The Curious Case of Orhan Pamuk
Posted on Sunday, March 5, 2006
Harvard Political Review
Turkey learns a valuable lesson — but will its citizens get the message?
By RYDER KESSLER
In September 2005, the Turkish government charged internationally renowned author Orhan Pamuk with “insulting Turkishness” when he called for Turkey to face up to a legacy of genocide. The charges carried a possible jail sentence of up to three years. Four months later, Turkey suddenly dropped the charges. The apparent about face has been interpreted by some as an attempt to evade international scrutiny of its less-than-democratic policies. Others see it is a true step forward in Turkey’s quest to adapt to the standards set forth by the European Union, whose ranks Ankara hopes to join.
Both views are right, to a point. Turkey is learning that it must uphold internationally recognized standards of freedom of the press, but it faces two internal obstacles to lasting change: a deep-seated custom of sweeping discomforting issues under the rug and citizens averse to European-style criticism of their nation.
Article 301: Democratic Censorship
Since 1999, when it officially became a candidate country for the EU, Turkey has been struggling to adapt its policies to Europe’s demands. Two issues have proven to be especially difficult Turkey’s attempted Europeanization: its refusal to discuss the alleged Armenian genocide of 1914-1915 and the killing of Kurdish separatists since 1984.
These sensitive subjects have led to a multitude of arrests under the country’s Article 301, which forbids insults against any branch of government. The law has been liberally applied, one of its many victims being Pamuk, who was charged after he told Swiss newspaper Tages Anzeiger in February 2005 that “a million Armenians and 30,000 Kurds were killed in these lands, and nobody but me dares talk about it.” The comments were taken by the government as insulting to the nation and to the character of Turks; Turkey maintains that neither the deaths of ethnic Armenians in the early twentieth century, nor the deaths of Kurdish separatists, qualifies as genocide.
The fact that relatively innocuous comments about decades-old conflicts led to such a high-profile author’s indictment shows just how much Turkey fears the consequences of a dialogue on its alleged atrocities. First, separatists could be emboldened by a perceived show of weakness if Turkey changes its stance. Second, it could weaken its position in relations with Armenia, whose border with Turkey has been shut down since 1993. Moreover, the idea of “national dignity” has retained a high place in the collective mind of the primarily Muslim nation.
But the West does not share such values. The widespread application of a law meant to apply to a narrow range of speech has become, from the point of view of many international eyes, a tool of oppression. Though the government does not directly censor the work of journalists and others within their borders, government retribution has bred a pervasive brand of self-censorship within the framework of democratic laws.
The Cost of Accession: Freedom, Not Lira
The EU Commissioner for Enlargement, Olli Rehn, has made clear the costs of such a culture. In October, Turkey became a “negotiating country,” moving beyond the level of “candidate country.” In an article in the December 2005/January 2006 issue of Turkish Policy Quarterly, Rehn implored Turks to realize that “the negotiation process for Turkey means nothing more or less than Turkey adopting the values, rules and standards which are applied in today’s Europe.” On the issue of the Pamuk case—still impending at the time of the article’s publication—Rehn affirmed the liberal vision that “we must stand united in defending his fundamental democratic right to freely express himself.”
The backlash caused by Pamuk’s indictment was not always so kindly worded. Members of the European Parliament called the case “unfortunate” and “unacceptable” and the international press excoriated Turkey’s repressiveness. It was clear that the EU’s expectations were not being met. Soon, Turkish foreign minister Abdullah Gul acknowledged that the trial itself posed a threat to Turkey’s national image. That top-level officials spoke out on the danger of the prosecution testifies to the impact of international pressure.
So too did the events that followed: When the trial began December 5, the judge adjourned the proceedings pending the approval of the country’s ministry of justice. But before the trial could continue, the government reversed its position, dropping its charges completely on January 23.
The episode taught Turkey a valuable lesson: international eyes will stay focused on the nation for as long as it intends to join the European Community, at which point it will have all of Europe to report to.
Beyond Pamuk
But whether the lesson truly sunk in is another question entirely. Five other journalists charged under Article 301 for comments also relating to Turkey’s denial of genocide still face prison time. Their trials, which commenced February 8, have been delayed until April. Now that the international spotlight is off Turkey, there is a risk that the repression of journalists and others who speak out against the government will continue unnoticed.
But the repetition of events like the Pamuk scandal is unlikely. European Parliament monitors will be present at all further proceedings against the five journalists and the charges against them may even be dropped by then. What makes the future of censorship in Turkey unclear is that the Turkish government must report not only to the EU Enlargement Commission, but to its people, many of whom are fiercely nationalist and anti-European.
In an essay in the New Yorker in December 2005, Pamuk spoke of the seeming paradox in his country amongst a growing middle class whose economic position leads them to Western styles of life but who are loathe to be accused of abandoning tradition: “What am I to make of a country that insists that the Turks, unlike their Western neighbors, are a compassionate people, incapable of genocide, while nationalist political groups are pelting me with death threats?”
Beyond the death threats and calls from fellow journalists for Pamuk to be forever “silenced,” there were the demonstrators outside his trial — not protesting its undemocratic nature, but calling the defendant a “traitor.” When the other Article 301 trials began on February 7, nationalist lawyers nearly took over the courthouse, calling for a new judge and fighting with riot police. Outside, demonstrators reveled in a chorus of nationalist chants.
Ankara has learned that it must allow for free discourse if it intends to join Europe. Though the nation may fear for its image, a preoccupation with quelling “insults” would prove more damaging than letting those insults be aired in the open. As it makes strides toward EU admittance, the Turkish government will scale back the abuse of Article 301, if not drop it from the books altogether.
But even if journalists do not suffer the retribution of their government for unpopular comments, the imminent hatred from fellow citizens will continue to foster a culture of fear, meaning that self-censorship will persist. If Turkey wants its impending EU accession to be worthwhile, Ankara must teach the lesson about free speech that it has learned to its people.
Posted on Sunday, March 5, 2006 at 03:16PM by HPR Post a Comment
Copyright Harvard Political Review, 2006. All rights reserved.
Note: Above are excerpts from the article. The full article appears here. Clarifications and comments by me are contained in {}. Deletions are marked by [...]. The bold emphasis is mine.
Harvard Political Review
Turkey learns a valuable lesson — but will its citizens get the message?
By RYDER KESSLER
In September 2005, the Turkish government charged internationally renowned author Orhan Pamuk with “insulting Turkishness” when he called for Turkey to face up to a legacy of genocide. The charges carried a possible jail sentence of up to three years. Four months later, Turkey suddenly dropped the charges. The apparent about face has been interpreted by some as an attempt to evade international scrutiny of its less-than-democratic policies. Others see it is a true step forward in Turkey’s quest to adapt to the standards set forth by the European Union, whose ranks Ankara hopes to join.
Both views are right, to a point. Turkey is learning that it must uphold internationally recognized standards of freedom of the press, but it faces two internal obstacles to lasting change: a deep-seated custom of sweeping discomforting issues under the rug and citizens averse to European-style criticism of their nation.
Article 301: Democratic Censorship
Since 1999, when it officially became a candidate country for the EU, Turkey has been struggling to adapt its policies to Europe’s demands. Two issues have proven to be especially difficult Turkey’s attempted Europeanization: its refusal to discuss the alleged Armenian genocide of 1914-1915 and the killing of Kurdish separatists since 1984.
These sensitive subjects have led to a multitude of arrests under the country’s Article 301, which forbids insults against any branch of government. The law has been liberally applied, one of its many victims being Pamuk, who was charged after he told Swiss newspaper Tages Anzeiger in February 2005 that “a million Armenians and 30,000 Kurds were killed in these lands, and nobody but me dares talk about it.” The comments were taken by the government as insulting to the nation and to the character of Turks; Turkey maintains that neither the deaths of ethnic Armenians in the early twentieth century, nor the deaths of Kurdish separatists, qualifies as genocide.
The fact that relatively innocuous comments about decades-old conflicts led to such a high-profile author’s indictment shows just how much Turkey fears the consequences of a dialogue on its alleged atrocities. First, separatists could be emboldened by a perceived show of weakness if Turkey changes its stance. Second, it could weaken its position in relations with Armenia, whose border with Turkey has been shut down since 1993. Moreover, the idea of “national dignity” has retained a high place in the collective mind of the primarily Muslim nation.
But the West does not share such values. The widespread application of a law meant to apply to a narrow range of speech has become, from the point of view of many international eyes, a tool of oppression. Though the government does not directly censor the work of journalists and others within their borders, government retribution has bred a pervasive brand of self-censorship within the framework of democratic laws.
The Cost of Accession: Freedom, Not Lira
The EU Commissioner for Enlargement, Olli Rehn, has made clear the costs of such a culture. In October, Turkey became a “negotiating country,” moving beyond the level of “candidate country.” In an article in the December 2005/January 2006 issue of Turkish Policy Quarterly, Rehn implored Turks to realize that “the negotiation process for Turkey means nothing more or less than Turkey adopting the values, rules and standards which are applied in today’s Europe.” On the issue of the Pamuk case—still impending at the time of the article’s publication—Rehn affirmed the liberal vision that “we must stand united in defending his fundamental democratic right to freely express himself.”
The backlash caused by Pamuk’s indictment was not always so kindly worded. Members of the European Parliament called the case “unfortunate” and “unacceptable” and the international press excoriated Turkey’s repressiveness. It was clear that the EU’s expectations were not being met. Soon, Turkish foreign minister Abdullah Gul acknowledged that the trial itself posed a threat to Turkey’s national image. That top-level officials spoke out on the danger of the prosecution testifies to the impact of international pressure.
So too did the events that followed: When the trial began December 5, the judge adjourned the proceedings pending the approval of the country’s ministry of justice. But before the trial could continue, the government reversed its position, dropping its charges completely on January 23.
The episode taught Turkey a valuable lesson: international eyes will stay focused on the nation for as long as it intends to join the European Community, at which point it will have all of Europe to report to.
Beyond Pamuk
But whether the lesson truly sunk in is another question entirely. Five other journalists charged under Article 301 for comments also relating to Turkey’s denial of genocide still face prison time. Their trials, which commenced February 8, have been delayed until April. Now that the international spotlight is off Turkey, there is a risk that the repression of journalists and others who speak out against the government will continue unnoticed.
But the repetition of events like the Pamuk scandal is unlikely. European Parliament monitors will be present at all further proceedings against the five journalists and the charges against them may even be dropped by then. What makes the future of censorship in Turkey unclear is that the Turkish government must report not only to the EU Enlargement Commission, but to its people, many of whom are fiercely nationalist and anti-European.
In an essay in the New Yorker in December 2005, Pamuk spoke of the seeming paradox in his country amongst a growing middle class whose economic position leads them to Western styles of life but who are loathe to be accused of abandoning tradition: “What am I to make of a country that insists that the Turks, unlike their Western neighbors, are a compassionate people, incapable of genocide, while nationalist political groups are pelting me with death threats?”
Beyond the death threats and calls from fellow journalists for Pamuk to be forever “silenced,” there were the demonstrators outside his trial — not protesting its undemocratic nature, but calling the defendant a “traitor.” When the other Article 301 trials began on February 7, nationalist lawyers nearly took over the courthouse, calling for a new judge and fighting with riot police. Outside, demonstrators reveled in a chorus of nationalist chants.
Ankara has learned that it must allow for free discourse if it intends to join Europe. Though the nation may fear for its image, a preoccupation with quelling “insults” would prove more damaging than letting those insults be aired in the open. As it makes strides toward EU admittance, the Turkish government will scale back the abuse of Article 301, if not drop it from the books altogether.
But even if journalists do not suffer the retribution of their government for unpopular comments, the imminent hatred from fellow citizens will continue to foster a culture of fear, meaning that self-censorship will persist. If Turkey wants its impending EU accession to be worthwhile, Ankara must teach the lesson about free speech that it has learned to its people.
Posted on Sunday, March 5, 2006 at 03:16PM by HPR Post a Comment
Copyright Harvard Political Review, 2006. All rights reserved.
Note: Above are excerpts from the article. The full article appears here. Clarifications and comments by me are contained in {}. Deletions are marked by [...]. The bold emphasis is mine.
posted by Vahe Balabanian at 7:48 PM
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