Mark Zuckerberg, Hasan Yeniocak, and I -- a tale of curious convergences

About this time last year, I had become so fed up with the amoral arrogance of Marc Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg and their facile defenses of how Facebook monetizes user information that I decided to leave – all to no avail.  I spent several hours trying to cancel my account.  Mark and Sheryl and their orcs have built a closed loop system to frustrate such leavings: one uses one’s password to get into the cancellation process, then is asked for your password to confirm your intent to leave, but, then, the very same password accepted for entry is denied for exit.  You can get in but you can’t get out.  I read that others have cancelled successfully and even mastered the process of freezing use of their data and foiling Facebook's money machine.  It takes a digital-era Theseus to master that Labyrinth, and I am not such.  Perhaps my 11 yr old grandson could help.

I gave up; in January I posted here on NWRuminations “Please Unfriend Me.”  From January 10^th to this week I successfully resisted opening Facebook in spite of every day receiving e-mails calling out that so-and-so has a message for me; my disuse of the site drove their computer programs crazy. The people “having a message for me” became increasingly remote, which only demonstrated Facebook's insidious ability to trace and navigate networks of personal connections or interactions.  Also, to my distress, I regularly received and regretfully ignored messages from family and friends that news and photos were posted on their Facebook pages. 

 I knew it was meaningless; just a silly, Quixotic gesture of defiance in this age of digital rape of privacy.  And I tired of peeking over Ann’s shoulder to see pictures of grandchildren and their adventures.  So, yesterday I capitulated.

But it wasn’t family that broke my resolve; it was curiosity.  Let me back-cast to spring of 2015.

Ann and I spent three weeks in Turkey – a wonderful trip.  We were in the capable hands of Hasan Yeniocak, a charming, knowledgeable, capable guide who skillfully herded us along while sharing his views and love of Turkey.  This was at the time of Erdogan’s first try at amending the Constitution to concentrate power in the hands of the President.  Hasan, an Alewite, was concerned but not alarmed by Erdogan’s drive to marginalize Kurds, Alewites, and secular Kemalists.  In discussing their Constitution and ours, Hasan demonstrated a misunderstanding of the roles of our Supreme Court and Senate.  So, on our return, along with pictures from the trip, I sent Hasan a copy of our Constitution and commentary on separation of church and state.  I had to fill out an international mail customs form as I recall.

 Hasan Then 

I didn’t hear a word.  Was the package intercepted?  E-mail after e-mail went unanswered.  I began to worry that I might have gotten Hasan in trouble, especially when in 2016, Erdogan was given a freer hand to impose his fundamentalist views and pressure minorities.  Inquiries to his Connecticut employer brought assurance that Hasan was OK, still guiding, and all appearing well.  Still no rise from attempts to reach him.

I thought little about it until later that year, 2016, when access to my Instagram account, which I rarely used but went to stir up again, was suddenly blocked.  fletchw@comcast.net was invalid said Instagram.  Some other person had taken that as their user ID.  By tracing and invoking lost password service, I uncovered this new fletchw.  Lo and behold, a Turk, not Hasan, a young Turk who posted his data and messages in Arabic.  I complained to Instagram who simply shrugged and advised me to take out a new account.  (They are, after all, owned by Sheryl and little Mark, not notable defenders of privacy.)

    

No great loss; I let Instagram lie -- until last month.  More and more, Pratt artists had been showing our work on Instagram.  And since September, granddaughter Ella has left a trail of European cities on her Instagram site. 

Granddaughter Ella in Chioggia

So, time to fire it up again; a new account it was to be.  I had to be devious -- using a phony username, ID, etc. etc., but now I have seen snippet videos from her travels.  I will post some of my work on Pratt's site.

~~~~~~~~

Hasan Now

Now we come to yesterday: Facebook finally intrigued me with a link to -- of all missing persons -- Hasan Yenociak! HOW IN HELL DID THEY CONNECT US!  

But I couldn’t resist; I succumbed and there he is, five years older, proud father, a little fleshy from being well fed, but undeniably a happy Hasan.

So now what?  Am I to become a bot in thrall to Facebook?  An Instagram habitué? Or just a flaneur, watching what streams by and leaving as little sign of having been there as possible?  


Meanwhile, what do I do about that Turkish Intelligence Officer that is opening Hasan’s mail and trolling me? 

Oh come now – really?

Yeah, really: Erdogan's orcs are no joke. And that little billionaire bastard with the bad haircut is still out there, you know.  One cannot be too paranoid these days.  

A little paranoia is a healthy thing.