Min indbakke er fyldt med hade-emails og personlige fornærmelser. Det har den været i årevis. I 2010 begyndte jeg at besvare disse emails og spurgte afsenderen, om vi skulle mødes til kaffe og en snak. Jeg har haft hundredvis af møder. De har lært mig noget vigtigt, som jeg vil dele med jer.
My inbox is full of hate mails and personal abuse and has been for years. In 2010, I started answering those mails and suggesting to the writer that we might meet for coffee and a chat. I have had hundreds of encounters. They have taught me something important that I want to share with you.
Jeg er født i Tyrkiet af kurdiske forældre, og vi flyttede til Danmark, da jeg var lille. I 2007 stillede jeg op til valg til folketinget som en af de første kvinder med anden etnisk baggrund. Jeg blev valgt ind, men ikke alle var glade for det, og jeg vænnede mig snart til at finde hade-emails i min indbakke. Disse emails kunne begynde med: ''Hvad laver en fejlfarve som dig i vores folketing?'' Jeg svarede aldrig. Jeg slettede dem bare. Jeg mente, at afsenderne og jeg intet havde tilfælles. De forstod mig ikke, og jeg forstod ikke dem. Men en dag sagde en af mine kolleger i folketinget, at jeg skulle gemme hadebeskederne. ''Når der sker dig noget, har politiet noget at gå efter.''
I was born in Turkey from Kurdish parents and we moved to Denmark when I was a young child. In 2007, I ran for a seat in the Danish parliament as one of the first women with a minority background. I was elected, but I soon found out that not everyone was happy about it as I had to quickly get used to finding hate messages in my inbox. Those emails would begin with something like this: "What's a raghead like you doing in our parliament?" I never answered. I'd just delete the emails. I just thought that the senders and I had nothing in common. They didn't understand me, and I didn't understand them. Then one day, one of my colleagues in the parliament said that I should save the hate mails. "When something happens to you, it will give the police a lead."
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Jeg bemærkede, at hun sagde ''Når noget sker'' og ikke ''hvis''.
I noticed that she said, "When something happens" and not "if."
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Nogle gange blev der også sendt hadebreve til mit hjem. Jo mere jeg blev involveret i den offentlige debat, jo flere hadebreve og trusler modtog jeg. Efter et stykke tid fik jeg hemmelig adresse, og måtte sørge for beskyttelse af min familie. I 2010 begyndte en nazist at chikanere mig. Det var en mand, der havde overfaldet muslimske kvinder på gaden. Med tiden blev det meget værre. Jeg var i Zoo med mine børn, og min telefon ringede hele tiden. Det var nazisten. Jeg fik indtryk af, at han var i nærheden. Vi tog hjem. Da vi kom hjem, spurgte min søn, ''Hvorfor hader han dig så meget, mor, når han ikke engang kender dig?''. ''Nogle mennesker er dumme'' sagde jeg. På det tidspunkt syntes jeg faktisk, at det var et ret klogt svar. Og jeg regner med, at det er det svar, de fleste af os ville give. De andre ... er dumme, hjernevaskede, uvidende. Vi er de gode, og de er de onde, punktum.
Sometimes hateful letters were also sent to my home address. The more I became involved in public debate, the more hate mail and threats I received. After a while, I got a secret address and I had to take extra precautions to protect my family. Then in 2010, a Nazi began to harass me. It was a man who had attacked Muslim women on the street. Over time, it became much worse. I was at the zoo with my children, and the phone was ringing constantly. It was the Nazi. I had the impression that he was close. We headed home. When we got back, my son asked, "Why does he hate you so much, Mom, when he doesn't even know you?" "Some people are just stupid," I said. And at the time, I actually thought that was a pretty clever answer. And I suspect that that is the answer most of us would give. The others -- they are stupid, brainwashed, ignorant. We are the good guys and they are the bad guys, period.
Flere uger senere besøgte jeg en ven, og jeg var meget oprevet over alt det had og racisme, jeg havde oplevet. Så foreslog han, at jeg skulle ringe til dem og besøge dem. ''De slår mig ihjel,'' - ''De ville aldrig angribe et medlem af det danske folketing,'' sagde han. ''Og hvis de dræbte dig, ville du blive martyr.''
Several weeks later I was at a friend's house, and I was very upset and angry about all the hate and racism I had met. It was he who suggested that I should call them up and visit them. "They will kill me," I said. "They would never attack a member of the Danish Parliament," he said. "And anyway, if they killed you, you would become a martyr."
(Latter)
(Laughter)
''Så det er en klar win-win situation for dig.''
"So it's pure win-win situation for you."
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Hans råd var så uventet, så da jeg kom hjem tændte jeg computeren og åbnede mappen, hvor jeg havde gemt alle hadebeskederne Der var i hundredevis. Emails der begyndte med ''terrorist,'' ''fejlfarve,'' ''rotte,'' ''luder.'' Jeg besluttede mig for at kontakte den, der havde sendt mig flest. Hans navn var Ingolf. Jeg ville kontakte ham en enkelt gang, så jeg kunne sige, at jeg havde forsøgt. Det chokerede mig, at han tog telefonen. Jeg udbrød: ''Hej, mit navn er Özlem. Du har sendt mig så mange hade-emails. Du kender ikke mig, jeg kender ikke dig. Måske kunne jeg komme forbi, og vi kunne drikke en kop kaffe sammen og snakke om det?''
His advice was so unexpected, when I got home, I turned on my computer and opened the folder where I had saved all the hate mail. There were literally hundreds of them. Emails that started with words like "terrorist," "raghead," "rat," "whore." I decided to contact the one who had sent me the most. His name was Ingolf. I decided to contact him just once so I could say at least I had tried. To my surprise and shock, he answered the phone. I blurted out, "Hello, my name is Özlem. You have sent me so many hate mails. You don't know me, I don't know you. I was wondering if I could come around and we can drink a coffee together and talk about it?"
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Der var stilhed på linjen. Så sagde han: ''Jeg må spørge min kone.''
There was silence on the line. And then he said, "I have to ask my wife."
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Hvad? Har racisten en kone?
What? The racist has a wife?
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Et par dage senere mødtes vi hjemme hos ham. Jeg vil aldrig glemme, da han åbnede døren og gav mig hånden. Jeg var så skuffet.
A couple of days later, we met at his house. I will never forget when he opened his front door and reached out to shake my hand. I felt so disappointed.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
for han så ikke ud, som jeg havde forestillet mig. Jeg havde forventet en forfærdelig person, et beskidt, uordentligt hus. Det var det ikke. Hans hus duftede af kaffe, som blev serveret af et kaffestel magen til mine forældres. Jeg blev i to en halv time. Vi havde rigtig mange ting tilfælles. Selv vore fordomme lignede hinanden.
because he looked nothing like I'd imagined. I had expected a horrible person -- dirty, messy house. It was not. His house smelled of coffee which was served from a coffee set identical to the one my parents used. I ended up staying for two and a half hours. And we had so many things in common. Even our prejudices were alike.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Ingolf fortalte mig, at når han venter på bussen, og bussen stopper 10 meter fra ham, var det fordi hans chauffør var en 'fejlfarve'. Jeg genkendte den følelse. Da jeg var ung og ventede på bussen, og den stoppede 10 meter fra mig, var jeg sikker på, at chaufføren var racist.
Ingolf told me that when he waits for the bus and the bus stops 10 meters away from him, it was because the driver was a "raghead." I recognized that feeling. When I was young and I waited for the bus and it stopped 10 meters away from me, I was sure that the driver was a racist.
Da jeg kom hjem, var jeg meget splittet omkring min oplevelse. På den ene side kunne jeg virkelig godt lide Ingolf. Han var nem og behagelig at snakke med. Men på den anden side brød jeg mig ikke om at have så meget tilfælles med en, der havde så åbenlyst racistiske synspunkter. Gradvist og smertefuldt, måtte jeg indse, at jeg havde dømt dem, der havde sendt mig hade-emails, ligesom de havde dømt mig.
When I got home, I was very ambivalent about my experience. On the one hand, I really liked Ingolf. He was easy and pleasant to talk to, but on the other hand, I couldn't stand the idea of having so much in common with someone who had such clearly racist views. Gradually, and painfully, I came to realize that I had been just as judgmental of those who had sent me hate mails as they had been of me.
Dette var begyndelsen på det, jeg kalder #dialogkaffe. Helt enkelt drikker jeg kaffe med mennesker, der har sagt de frygteligste ting til mig for at forsøge at forstå, hvorfor de hader folk som mig, når de ikke engang kender mig. Jeg har gjort det de seneste otte år. De fleste, jeg kontakter, siger ja til at møde mig. De fleste er mænd, men jeg har også mødt kvinder. Jeg har gjort det til en regel altid at møde dem i deres hjem for at fortælle fra starten, at jeg føler tillid. Jeg har altid mad med, for når vi spiser sammen, er det nemmere at finde det, vi har til fælles, og slutte fred.
This was the beginning of what I call #dialoguecoffee. Basically, I sit down for coffee with people who have said the most terrible things to me to try to understand why they hate people like me when they don't even know me. I have been doing this the last eight years. The vast majority of people I approach agree to meet me. Most of them are men, but I have also met women. I have made it a rule to always meet them in their house to convey from the outset that I trust them. I always bring food because when we eat together, it is easier to find what we have in common and make peace together.
Med tiden har jeg lært noget værdifuldt. De, der sender hade-emails, er arbejdere, ægtemænd, koner, forældre ligesom dig og mig. Jeg siger ikke, at deres opførsel er acceptabel, men jeg har lært at distancere mig fra deres hadefulde synspunkter uden at tage afstand fra personen, som udtrykker disse synspunkter. Jeg har opdaget, at dem, jeg besøger, er ligeså bange for folk, de ikke kender, som jeg var for dem, før jeg begyndte at invitere mig selv på kaffe.
Along the way, I have learned some valuable lessons. The people who sent hate mails are workers, husbands, wives, parents like you and me. I'm not saying that their behavior is acceptable, but I have learned to distance myself from the hateful views without distancing myself from the person who's expressing those views. And I have discovered that the people I visit are just as afraid of people they don't know as I was afraid of them before I started inviting myself for coffee.
Under disse møder kommer der et særligt tema op. Det dukker op, uanset om jeg taler med en humanist eller en racist, en mand, en kvinde, en muslim eller en ateist. Det virker, som om de alle mener, at andre mennesker er skyld i hadet og generaliseringen af grupper. De mener alle, at andre skal stoppe dæmoniseringen. De peger på politikere, medier, deres nabo eller buschaufføren, som stopper 10 meter væk. Men når jeg spørger: "Hvad med dig? Hvad kan du gøre?" er svaret som regel: "Hvad jeg kan gøre? Jeg har ingen indflydelse. Jeg har ingen magt." Jeg kender den følelse. En stor del af mit liv følte jeg heller ikke, at jeg havde magt eller indflydelse... ikke engang da jeg var medlem af folketinget. Men i dag ved jeg, at virkeligheden er anderledes. Vi har alle magt og indflydelse der, hvor vi er, så vi må aldrig, aldrig undervurdere vort eget potentiale.
During these meetings, a specific theme keeps coming up. It shows up regardless whether I'm talking to a humanist or a racist, a man, a woman, a Muslim or an atheist. They all seem to think that other people are to blame for the hate and for the generalization of groups. They all believe that other people have to stop demonizing. They point at politicians, the media, their neighbor or the bus driver who stops 10 meters away. But when I asked, "What about you? What can you do?", the reply is usually, "What can I do? I have no influence. I have no power." I know that feeling. For a large part of my life, I also thought that I didn't have any power or influence -- even when I was a member of the Danish parliament. But today I know the reality is different. We all have power and influence where we are, so we must never, never underestimate our own potential.
#dialogkaffe møderne har lært mig, at folk af alle politiske overbevisninger kan tages i at dæmonisere dem med anderledes synspunkter. Jeg ved, hvad jeg taler om. Da jeg var lille, hadede jeg anderledes befolkningsgrupper. Dengang var mit religiøse synspunkt meget ekstremt. Men mit venskab med tyrkere, danskere, jøde og racister har vaccineret mig imod mine egne fordomme. Jeg voksede op i en arbejderfamilie. Og jeg har mødt mange, som har insisteret på at tale med mig. De har ændret mine synspunkter. De har formet mig som demokrat, borger og brobygger. Hvis vi skal forhindre had og vold, må vi tale med så mange som muligt - så længe som muligt og undervejs være så åben som muligt. Det kan man kun opnå ved hjælp af debat og kritisk samtale og ved at insistere på en dialog, der ikke dæmoniserer folk.
The #dialoguecoffee meetings have taught me that people of all political convictions can be caught demonizing the others with different views. I know what I'm talking about. As a young child, I hated different population groups. And at the time, my religious views were very extreme. But my friendship with Turks, with Danes, with Jews and with racists has vaccinated me against my own prejudices. I grew up in a working-class family, and on my journey I have met many people who have insisted on speaking to me. They have changed my views. They have formed me as a democratic citizen and a bridge builder. If you want to prevent hate and violence, we have to talk to as many people as possible for as long as possible while being as open as possible. That can only be achieved through debate, critical conversation and insisting on dialogue that doesn't demonize people.
Nu vil jeg stille jer et spørgsmål. Jeg inviterer jer til at tænke over det, når I kommer hjem og de kommende dage, men I skal være ærlige over for jer selv. Det skulle være nemt nok, der er ingen, der lytter. Spørgsmålet er: Hvem dæmoniserer du? Synes du, at præsident Trumps tilhængere er sørgelige? Eller at de, der stemte på tyrkiske præsiden Erdoğan er sindssyge islamister? Eller at de, der stemte på Le Pen i Frankrig er dumme fascister? Eller måske synes du, at amerikanere, der stemte på Bernie Sanders er umodne hippier?
I'm going to ask you a question. I invite you to think about it when you get home and in the coming days, but you have to be honest with yourself. It should be easy, no one else will know it. The question is this ... who do you demonize? Do you think supporters of American President Trump are deplorables? Or that those who voted for Turkish President Erdoğan are crazy Islamists? Or that those who voted for Le Pen in France are stupid fascists? Or perhaps you think that Americans who voted for Bernie Sanders are immature hippies.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Alle de ord har været brugt til at bagvaske de grupper. Synes du måske, at jeg er en idealist?
All those words have been used to vilify those groups. Maybe at this point, do you think I am an idealist?
Jeg vil give dig en udfordring. Inden et år udfordrer jeg dig til at invitere en, du dæmoniserer, en, du er uenig med politisk og/eller kulturelt og ikke synes, du har noget tilfælles med. Jeg udfordrer dig til at invitere sådan en til #dialogkaffe. Kan du huske Ingolf? Helt enkelt beder jeg dig om at finde en Ingolf i dit liv, kontakte ham eller hende og foreslå, at I mødes til #dialogkaffe.
I want to give you a challenge. Before the end of this year, I challenge you to invite someone who you demonize -- someone who you disagree with politically and/or culturally and don't think you have anything in common with. I challenge you to invite someone like this to #dialoguecoffee. Remember Ingolf? Basically, I'm asking you to find an Ingolf in your life, contact him or her and suggest that you can meet for #dialoguecofee.
Når du begynder en #dialogkaffe, skal du huske: For det første, giv ikke op, hvis personen ikke vil. Nogen gange har det taget mig næsten et år at arrangere et #dialogkaffe-møde. For det andet, anerkend den anden persons mod. Det er ikke kun dig, som er modig. Den, der inviterer dig hjem, er lige så modig. For det tredje, døm ikke undervejs i samtalen. Sørg for, at det meste af samtalen fokuserer på, hvad I har til fælles. Og som jeg sagde, medbring mad. Og til sidst, husk at slutte samtalen positivt, for I skal ses igen. En bro kan ikke bygges på en dag.
When you start at #dialoguecoffee, you have to remember this: first, don't give up if the person refuses at first. Sometimes it's taken me nearly one year to arrange a #dialoguecoffee meeting. Two: acknowledge the other person's courage. It isn't just you who's brave. The one who's inviting you into their home is just as brave. Three: don't judge during the conversation. Make sure that most of the conversation focuses on what you have in common. As I said, bring food. And finally, remember to finish the conversation in a positive way because you are going to meet again. A bridge can't be built in one day.
Vi lever i en verden, hvor mange har definitive og ekstreme meninger om andre uden at vide særlig meget om dem. Vi ser nemmere fordommene hos de andre end hos vore egne. Og vi bandlyser dem. Vi sletter hade-emails. Vi er kun sammen med dem, som tænker ligesom os og taler om andre med foragt. Vi fjerner venner på Facebook, og når vi møder folk, der diskriminerer eller nedgør folk eller grupper, insisterer vi ikke på at tale med dem for at udfordre deres meninger. Det er sådan sunde demokratiske samfund nedbrydes, når vi ikke vægter det personlige ansvar for demokratiet. Vi tager demokratiet for givet. Det er det ikke. Samtaler er det sværeste i et demokrati og det allervigtigste.
We are living in a world where many people hold definitive and often extreme opinions about the others without knowing much about them. We notice of course the prejudices on the other side than in our own bases. And we ban them from our lives. We delete the hate mails. We hang out only with people who think like us and talk about the others in a category of disdain. We unfriend people on Facebook, and when we meet people who are discriminating or dehumanizing people or groups, we don't insist on speaking with them to challenge their opinions. That's how healthy democratic societies break down -- when we don't check the personal responsibility for the democracy. We take the democracy for granted. It is not. Conversation is the most difficult thing in a democracy and also the most important.
Så her er min udfordring. Find din Ingolf.
So here's my challenge. Find your Ingolf.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Begynd at tale sammen. Der er blevet gravet skyttegrave, ja, men vi ejer alle evnen til at bygge broer over skyttegravene.
Start a conversation. Trenches have been dug between people, yes, but we all have the ability to build the bridges that cross the trenches.
Lad mig slutte med at citere min ven, Sergeot Uzan, som mistede sin søn, Dan Uzan, under et terrorangreb på den jødiske synagoge i København i 2015. Sergeot afviste ethvert forslag om hævn og sagde: "Ondskab kan kun overvindes ved hjælp af venlighed. Venlighed kræver mod." Kære venner, lad os være modige.
And let me end by quoting my friend, Sergeot Uzan, who lost his son, Dan Uzan, in a terror attack on a Jewish synagogue in Copenhagen, 2015. Sergio rejected any suggestion of revenge and instead said this ... "Evil can only be defeated by kindness between people. Kindness demands courage." Dear friends, let's be courageous.
Tak.
Thank you.
(Klapsalver)
(Applause)