Cases such as Gülistan Doku, a young Kurdish woman who disappeared in Dersim (Dêrsim); Rojin Kabais, who was killed after being subjected to sexual assault in Van (Wan); and Narin Güran, whose lifeless body was found in a riverbed after days of searching… Although such incidents are officially recorded as “missing” or “murder,” they are often not fully clarified in all their dimensions. This removes them from being simple criminal cases and reveals a broader picture shaped by a male-dominated system, entrenched feudal structures, networks of profiteering, and the social decay produced by capitalist relations. Beyond this, a wider social distortion and a pervasive state of collective silence become evident.
In the most recent case of Narin Güran, although the perpetrators were prosecuted, the failure to fully clarify the incident and the ongoing silence continue to be widely discussed.
Lawyer Ali Has, based in London, brought this state of “collective silence” that emerges from such killings to the stage through his play titled “Sus.” The play, which centers on themes of silence and confrontation, was staged at the Tower Theatre in London under the direction of Baris Celiloglu. The cast included Ates Togrul, Ata Berk Aksit, Deniz Ulku, Ezgi Bakiskan Baris, Emre Gundogdu, Ezgi Kocer, and Zehra Bilgin. The music of the play was composed by Vedat Yildirim from Kardes Turkuler and Cansun Kucukturk from the band Bajar.
The play, staged for four days at the Tower Theatre in London, brought to the audience a story that begins with “A village, a disappearance, and a great silence,” under the theme “The loudest form of injustice.” Throughout the performance, it sought to provoke confrontation by asking: “Whom does silence protect? Who is the real culprit? Those who remain silent, or those who are silenced?”
During the performance, a distinctive narrative was presented on stage through body language, puppetry, and rhythm, while artists Vedat Yıldırım and Cansun Küçüktürk strengthened the atmosphere with live music compositions.
Previously, with the play “I Do Not Die Easily,” which brought Ahmed Arif and Cemal Süreya into dialogue to examine assimilation, Ali Has now addresses not only individual crimes and disappearances but also collective silence and shared responsibility in “Sus.” The play progresses through the story of a missing child, focusing not only on the perpetrator’s act but also on the surrounding silence and society’s complicity. Although the elements of physical theatre, puppetry, and rhythmic music do not always fully align, the focus on collective guilt and social complicity invites the audience to move beyond passive spectatorship and to think and question.
In this sense, “Sus.” is not merely a dramatic work; it aims to create a broader social confrontation that goes beyond the individual perpetrator in these killings. By referring to “the loudest form of injustice,” it presents a paradox between silence and noise, searching for answers to the questions: “Whom does silence protect? Who is the real culprit? Those who remain silent, or those who are silenced?” Although the play does not narrate a specific event directly, it draws a powerful parallel with the issue of societal silence debated in similar ways across different geographies.
Moreover, the play points not only to individual guilt but also to the perpetrator produced by the system itself; the notion of crime and conscience shifts from the individual to the social structure. In this questioning of silence and conscience, it emphasizes how consciences, transformed into small prototypes of the state, become a system that dominates society.
Through the character Nazlı, portrayed by child actor Deniz Ülkü, the play conveys lines such as “Silence is worse than a scream,” “With which silence did I take whose child,” and “Silence merged into absence,” pointing to the systemic nature of the crimes. In this way, mechanisms of pressure that are often unseen or unacknowledged are made visible through the characters.
In the small village where the story unfolds, figures such as the village head, imam, contractor, member of parliament, prosecutor, and judge bring the systematic and social dimensions of crime onto the stage. The deep crisis created by violence against women and the weight of social pressure are conveyed intensely to the audience. The mother instilling fear in Nazlı with the words “The door of the state, the door of the husband,” and the line “If the mountain turns against the village, it will wither,” emphasize how fear is passed down from generation to generation.
After Nalin’s disappearance, as her body is found, the traditional Kurdish govend song “Delale Gunde Me Beso” transforms into a lament, reflecting the harsh reality of the geography and drawing the audience into deep sorrow.
The audience cannot reduce the perpetrator to a single individual; the incident is never fully clarified. Instead, the play presents not one but multiple suspects and perpetrators. By the end, as the number of suspects grows and the notion of a single perpetrator expands into many, the themes of social reckoning and hope come to the forefront.
The small village and its characters in “Sus.”, presented under the theme “the loudest form of injustice,” are not unfamiliar to those from Kurdistan. Yet the silence embedded in villages intertwined with the system and power structures remains deeply unsettling.
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