October 7 Changed My Life

October 7, 2023, changed my life.

Despite the three years that have passed, I still struggle to articulate exactly what that day altered within me.

Before October 7, I was interested in history, politics, and Middle Eastern affairs, yet I mostly contented myself with observing events from afar. I followed the news, occasionally penned articles, and maintained professional relationships with figures in the Turkish media.

Then, everything changed.

The October 7 attacks were not merely a horrific event I watched on a screen. They marked a turning point in my approach to history, journalism, memory, and the concept of responsibility.

I remember asking myself a simple question as I watched events unfold:

What remains when everything is wiped away?

The news cycle moves rapidly. One story replaces another. People debate, react, move on with their lives, and ultimately forget. Yet, history does not simply vanish just because the news agenda shifts elsewhere.

This realization changed the course of my life.

I began spending more time in archives. I set out to compile documents, historical records, current reports, and sources that might otherwise be lost in that endless stream of information. I started working on research files and reports—not only to understand what was happening but also to leave behind a record of events.

I also began to view my own professional circle from a different perspective.

Over time, I distanced myself from certain relationships within the Turkish media. It was not an easy decision. After October 7th, I stood by the truth, even at the cost of my career; I lost a great deal and was subjected to insults and threats, yet I remained on the side of what is right. Some of these individuals had been part of my professional life for years. However, October 7th forced me to re-examine what journalism, the media, and writing meant to me.

I realized I could no longer remain close to people with whom I did not share the same understanding of responsibility, evidence, and principles. My decision to leave did not stem from a belief that everyone ought to think exactly as I do.

I left because, while differences of opinion are acceptable, I concluded that casting aside evidence and principles is not. Since that day, I have been trying to build something different.

I do not want to be merely an ordinary person commenting on the day’s headlines. I want to be a researcher and writer who leaves behind works that future generations can study.

Perhaps I am not yet the writer I aspire to be; time will tell.

But I know what I am trying to do.

I want to write for people who will never know me.

I want someone, a hundred or two hundred years from now, to open an archive, read a document, or examine a source, and realize that there were people who strove to record this era honestly.

October 7th changed my view of the world.

It changed the people I trusted.

It changed the subjects I worked on.

It changed the way I read the news.

And most importantly, it changed my conviction regarding what my responsibility as a writer should be. Three years on, I do not want October 7th to remain merely an ordinary date in the history books.

I want us to remember the people behind the numbers.

The families who lost a loved one.

The survivors who carry memories that will never leave them.

The hostages and their families, who have endured unimaginable uncertainty.
And everyone whose life was permanently split into “before October 7th” and “after October 7th.”

I, too, remember who I was before that day.

In many ways, that person no longer exists.

What remains is a writer who feels the duty to document, question, preserve, and remember.

Three years later, I am still here. I am still investigating. I am still writing. I am still tracing documents and evidence.

And I believe that one day, when today’s debates have long been forgotten, those records will matter.

May the memory of those slaughtered on October 7th be sacred. I hope the survivors find peace. And I hope history remembers what happened with honesty and dignity.