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Boston Globe
Sept 25 2005
Editorial
A test for Turkey
September 25, 2005
THE AUTHOR Orhan Pamuk writes beautifully of his native Turkey's
struggle to understand -- and to be understood by -- the West. In his
2004 novel ''Snow," an exiled poet and journalist named Ka returns to
the small Turkish town of his birth to investigate the suicides of
girls being forced to remove their religious headscarves in public
school. He meets a shadowy and charismatic Islamist extremist who
challenges his reporting. ''The Turkish press is interested in its
country's troubles only if the Western press takes an interest
first," he complains. ''Otherwise it's offensive to discuss poverty
and suicide; they talk about these things as if they happen in a land
beyond the civilized world."
Now Pamuk faces trial and possible imprisonment for his words. He has
been charged by the government with the crime of ''public denigrating
of Turkish identity." Pamuk dared to tell a Swiss newspaper that
there are some topics in Turkey that are off-limits for public
discourse, such as Turkey's history of extreme violence against
Armenians and Kurds. ''Almost no one talks about it," he said.
''Therefore, I do."
The prosecution of Pamuk is offensive to human rights and free
expression and should be dropped. But the great irony is that it is
precisely the shifting and anguished ''Turkish identity" that is at
the core of Pamuk's work. Is Turkey to be a secular nation or a
Muslim one? Is its nature more European or Asian? Will its government
become more democratic or more autocratic? These are the questions
that Pamuk's characters -- and thousands of real-life Turks --
grapple with as they cast a wary eye on modernity and the West.
Turkey's penal code has been amended in recent years, but the law
still forbids public disagreement with the government on topics it
considers of ''fundamental national interest." Yet the actions
against Pamuk are also not in Turkey's national interest, especially
since it is anticipating talks to join the European Union later this
year. The EU has already expressed its disappointment; earlier this
month the commissioner in charge of expanding EU membership said
trying Pamuk would be a violation of the European Convention on Human
Rights, which Turkey has signed. Other international groups have
taken up Pamuk's cause, finding it suspicious that the charges
coincide with the EU talks.
If the government of Prime Minister Recep Erdogan has made Pamuk a
convenient scapegoat to reassure hard-liners that Turkey's hoped-for
ascension to the EU will not cost the nation its identity, it has
chosen the wrong target. Pamuk is world-famous because his voice is
not harshly polemical but as complex and nuanced as the future his
country must face. He belongs, as does Turkey, in the civilized
world.
Sept 25 2005
Editorial
A test for Turkey
September 25, 2005
THE AUTHOR Orhan Pamuk writes beautifully of his native Turkey's
struggle to understand -- and to be understood by -- the West. In his
2004 novel ''Snow," an exiled poet and journalist named Ka returns to
the small Turkish town of his birth to investigate the suicides of
girls being forced to remove their religious headscarves in public
school. He meets a shadowy and charismatic Islamist extremist who
challenges his reporting. ''The Turkish press is interested in its
country's troubles only if the Western press takes an interest
first," he complains. ''Otherwise it's offensive to discuss poverty
and suicide; they talk about these things as if they happen in a land
beyond the civilized world."
Now Pamuk faces trial and possible imprisonment for his words. He has
been charged by the government with the crime of ''public denigrating
of Turkish identity." Pamuk dared to tell a Swiss newspaper that
there are some topics in Turkey that are off-limits for public
discourse, such as Turkey's history of extreme violence against
Armenians and Kurds. ''Almost no one talks about it," he said.
''Therefore, I do."
The prosecution of Pamuk is offensive to human rights and free
expression and should be dropped. But the great irony is that it is
precisely the shifting and anguished ''Turkish identity" that is at
the core of Pamuk's work. Is Turkey to be a secular nation or a
Muslim one? Is its nature more European or Asian? Will its government
become more democratic or more autocratic? These are the questions
that Pamuk's characters -- and thousands of real-life Turks --
grapple with as they cast a wary eye on modernity and the West.
Turkey's penal code has been amended in recent years, but the law
still forbids public disagreement with the government on topics it
considers of ''fundamental national interest." Yet the actions
against Pamuk are also not in Turkey's national interest, especially
since it is anticipating talks to join the European Union later this
year. The EU has already expressed its disappointment; earlier this
month the commissioner in charge of expanding EU membership said
trying Pamuk would be a violation of the European Convention on Human
Rights, which Turkey has signed. Other international groups have
taken up Pamuk's cause, finding it suspicious that the charges
coincide with the EU talks.
If the government of Prime Minister Recep Erdogan has made Pamuk a
convenient scapegoat to reassure hard-liners that Turkey's hoped-for
ascension to the EU will not cost the nation its identity, it has
chosen the wrong target. Pamuk is world-famous because his voice is
not harshly polemical but as complex and nuanced as the future his
country must face. He belongs, as does Turkey, in the civilized
world.