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THE CURIOUS CASE OF ORHAN PAMUK
Harvard Political Review, MA
Aug. 7, 2006
By RYDER KESSLER
Turkey learns a valuable lesson - but will its citizens get the
message?
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.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Harvard Political Review, MA
Aug. 7, 2006
By RYDER KESSLER
Turkey learns a valuable lesson - but will its citizens get the
message?
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.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress