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CRIMINALIZING DEBATE: FRANCE ABANDONS MODERNITY
by Hilal Elver And Richard Falk
Zaman, Turkey
Nov 2 2006
There is a sense of absurdity surrounding the vote in October at the
French Assembly to criminalize a denial of Armenian genocide that
supposedly took place during the final stage of Ottoman rule in 1915.
The absurdity does not arise from a description of these events,
but from the idea that a correct view of history can be legislated,
and dissenter punished as criminals. True only 106 of 577 deputies in
the Assembly voted in favor of the bill, 19 opposed, and 4 abstained,
while 448 did not vote at all. No one expects this bill to become
law. The French Senate has sent signals that it will never consider
the proposed law, and the President Chirac has expressed his personal
opposition. The idea behind the bill was to impose a fine of up to
45,000 Euros and send the denier to jail for as long as a year.
But why would the 448 deputies refuse to oppose formally such a
piece of legislation? We will never know their motives, but it seems
reasonable to suspect that they recognized the absurdity of such
a legislative move, but at the same time did not want to offend the
500,000 Armenians living in France whose leaders had strongly supported
the law. Also, it allows these French politicians an indirect means
of signaling their opposition to any future move to invite Turkey to
become a member of the European Union.
To punish deniers of the Armenian experience seems in one sense a
logical sequel to punishing Holocaust deniers, which can actually
happen in at least 12 European countries. Apparently, at this time the
historian, David Irving, is serving prison time in Austria for a speech
made 17 years before he was indicted that was held in a court to deny
the Holocaust. Two distinct issues are raised: Is it acceptable to make
it a crime to deny the Holocaust? Should Armenian grievances be treated
any less seriously than Jewish grievances when it comes to denial?
The rationale for punishing Holocaust deniers relates to some
legitimate European concerns. There are claims made that the denial
of the Holocaust risks giving rise to a new wave of anti-semitism.
The evidence that there exists any link between asserting denial
and practicing anti-semitism seems far too weak at this point to
justify criminalization even in European countries with their shameful
history of persecuting Jews. Vigilance is understandable given the
existence of scary neo-Nazi movements that have emerged in several
European countries. Instead of criminalizing denial, to discourage
anti-semitism it would be far more effective for the governments in
these countries to press hard for a just solution to the ordeal of
the Palestinian people.
On the historical argument in favor of 'denial' there is significantly
less clarity about the genocidal character of the Armenian claims as
compared to the factual reality of the Holocaust.
There is remains a widely shared refusal on the part of the majority of
Turks to categorize the events of 1915 as 'genocide.' This Turkish
outlook has enjoyed some support among prominent non-Turkish
historians, most notably Bernard Lewis. At the same time, the
overwhelming weight of international historical scholarship does
endorse the main thrust of Armenian claims. Additionally, Lewis'
assessment is somewhat undermined by his close relationship with
the Turkish government while revising his influential history of
modern Turkey. It is a matter of social reality that informed opinion
outside of Turkey does support the Armenian position about the events
in 1915, but that hardly makes the case for the punishment of those
who disagree.
The Turkish relationship to the denial of history has similarities to
this French approach, yet it is significantly different. Turkey, in a
sense anticipated the tactic of the French Assembly, by enacting its
notorious '301' law that punishes statements that insult Turkishness,
which covers a potentially wide range of viewpoints that could be
regarded as anti-Turkish by ultra-nationalist state prosecutors.
Recent high profile prosecutions of famous writers Orhan Pamuk and
Elif Shafak, while dismissed, have led to widespread international [and
national] criticism of such interferences with freedom of expression. A
hopeful development is that Turkey's highest officials have let it
be known that they did not approve of these 301 prosecutions, and
even made public their sympathy with the prominent targets of these
indictments, Although dangers persist, and some disturbing prosecutions
of journalists and public figures continue to occur, and have even
led to imprisonment, Turkish public opinion seems to be moving
gradually against such restrictions of freedom of expression. This
display of greater Turkish self-confidence is more accepting of
viewpoints that might formerly have been treated as hostile to
Turkish nationalism. Turkey is a relatively young country that is
still in the midst of making its own very distinctive transition to
modernity. Perhaps as much as any country Turkey is struggling to
gain the benefits of modernity without sacrificing the achievements,
memories, and glories of its past.
But what is becoming of France, formerly the greatest inspiration
throughout the world for equality of rights and universal democratic
culture associated with modernity. It was the French Revolution in
1789 that remains the decisive moment for an emancipatory alternative
to oppressive and autocratic government. In this French revolutionary
moment nothing was more central than the idea that human progress and
prosperity depended on freedom of thought and expression. The pride
of the French nation linked this openness to a variety of opinions on
the controversial issues of the day, and there was no anxiety that a
tension existed between a robust French nationalism and the affirmation
of unrestricted cultural freedom. So how should we interpret this
seeming French retreat from its own proudest contributions to modern
social and political life?
Of course, it would be a mistake to exaggerate this act of the
French Assembly, which is really more a gesture than a rupture. At
the same time, it does reflect the regressive side of French political
identity. In the background of such anti-democratic impulses, we think,
are the current threats to French public order that conservative
opinion blames on immigrant minorities. There are disturbing signs
that racist attitudes are gaining the upper hand in French society. In
such a setting, the Armenian issue becomes a vehicle for anti-Islamic
and anti-Turkish sentiments. Of course, there is also an obvious
opportunistic dimension that relates to French electoral politics, but
challenging Turkish refusal to acknowledge crimes against the Armenians
is also useful as a way of indirectly raising doubts about whether
Turkey will ever deserve to be a member of the European Union. It
is against this background that the peculiarity of non-voting by the
majority of the French Assembly needs to be primarily understood. In
effect, the punishment of deniers of Armenian genocide is too crude
an assault on freedom of thought to be an acceptable tactic even by
those who oppose Turkish EU membership, yet to vote against this bill
might seem to exempt Turkey from censure for its refusal to admit
that the 1915 massacres were, in fact, genocide, and would anger the
well-organized Armenian pressure groups that have so enthusiastically
backed this initiative.
Two main conclusions arise from these controversies: the futility
of legislating historical reality; and the importance of coming
to terms with historic injustices that give rise to pain, anger,
and ethnic tensions. How should Turkey now address the grievances
of the Armenians relating to the events of 1915? Is it important
to construct a new Turkish approach to this tormented past by
launching an independent inquiry that is freed from nationalistic
bias? It may be that the efforts of Pamuk and Shafak are hesitant
moves in this direction, aimed at helping the people of Turkey to
think more objectively about this contested part of their past for
the sake of Turkish national interests, so that the country can move
on. Under the best of circumstances it will be certainly impossible
to reach an accommodation with the most embittered among the Armenian
diaspora or to persuade extreme Turkish nationalists to reexamine the
Armenian grievances in an objective spirit. A serious Turkish effort
to explore the issue, aimed at achieving closure in good faith, is
likely to improve the overall international atmosphere with respect
to Turkey. It would also be a convincing demonstration that Turkey
is prepared to accept internal debate and controversy. Such moves
would be further evidence of the deepening of Turkish democracy. A
process of inquiry and reflection on such an inflamed subject will
not be easy, as extremists on both sides will do all in their power
to avoid a reasonable historical reckoning. But it will also not be
easy to go on pretending that there is no unfinished business arising
from this bloody Armenian encounter. Why not seize upon this French
abandonment of modernity to risk this Turkish affirmation of the
moral and political energies of change?
by Hilal Elver And Richard Falk
Zaman, Turkey
Nov 2 2006
There is a sense of absurdity surrounding the vote in October at the
French Assembly to criminalize a denial of Armenian genocide that
supposedly took place during the final stage of Ottoman rule in 1915.
The absurdity does not arise from a description of these events,
but from the idea that a correct view of history can be legislated,
and dissenter punished as criminals. True only 106 of 577 deputies in
the Assembly voted in favor of the bill, 19 opposed, and 4 abstained,
while 448 did not vote at all. No one expects this bill to become
law. The French Senate has sent signals that it will never consider
the proposed law, and the President Chirac has expressed his personal
opposition. The idea behind the bill was to impose a fine of up to
45,000 Euros and send the denier to jail for as long as a year.
But why would the 448 deputies refuse to oppose formally such a
piece of legislation? We will never know their motives, but it seems
reasonable to suspect that they recognized the absurdity of such
a legislative move, but at the same time did not want to offend the
500,000 Armenians living in France whose leaders had strongly supported
the law. Also, it allows these French politicians an indirect means
of signaling their opposition to any future move to invite Turkey to
become a member of the European Union.
To punish deniers of the Armenian experience seems in one sense a
logical sequel to punishing Holocaust deniers, which can actually
happen in at least 12 European countries. Apparently, at this time the
historian, David Irving, is serving prison time in Austria for a speech
made 17 years before he was indicted that was held in a court to deny
the Holocaust. Two distinct issues are raised: Is it acceptable to make
it a crime to deny the Holocaust? Should Armenian grievances be treated
any less seriously than Jewish grievances when it comes to denial?
The rationale for punishing Holocaust deniers relates to some
legitimate European concerns. There are claims made that the denial
of the Holocaust risks giving rise to a new wave of anti-semitism.
The evidence that there exists any link between asserting denial
and practicing anti-semitism seems far too weak at this point to
justify criminalization even in European countries with their shameful
history of persecuting Jews. Vigilance is understandable given the
existence of scary neo-Nazi movements that have emerged in several
European countries. Instead of criminalizing denial, to discourage
anti-semitism it would be far more effective for the governments in
these countries to press hard for a just solution to the ordeal of
the Palestinian people.
On the historical argument in favor of 'denial' there is significantly
less clarity about the genocidal character of the Armenian claims as
compared to the factual reality of the Holocaust.
There is remains a widely shared refusal on the part of the majority of
Turks to categorize the events of 1915 as 'genocide.' This Turkish
outlook has enjoyed some support among prominent non-Turkish
historians, most notably Bernard Lewis. At the same time, the
overwhelming weight of international historical scholarship does
endorse the main thrust of Armenian claims. Additionally, Lewis'
assessment is somewhat undermined by his close relationship with
the Turkish government while revising his influential history of
modern Turkey. It is a matter of social reality that informed opinion
outside of Turkey does support the Armenian position about the events
in 1915, but that hardly makes the case for the punishment of those
who disagree.
The Turkish relationship to the denial of history has similarities to
this French approach, yet it is significantly different. Turkey, in a
sense anticipated the tactic of the French Assembly, by enacting its
notorious '301' law that punishes statements that insult Turkishness,
which covers a potentially wide range of viewpoints that could be
regarded as anti-Turkish by ultra-nationalist state prosecutors.
Recent high profile prosecutions of famous writers Orhan Pamuk and
Elif Shafak, while dismissed, have led to widespread international [and
national] criticism of such interferences with freedom of expression. A
hopeful development is that Turkey's highest officials have let it
be known that they did not approve of these 301 prosecutions, and
even made public their sympathy with the prominent targets of these
indictments, Although dangers persist, and some disturbing prosecutions
of journalists and public figures continue to occur, and have even
led to imprisonment, Turkish public opinion seems to be moving
gradually against such restrictions of freedom of expression. This
display of greater Turkish self-confidence is more accepting of
viewpoints that might formerly have been treated as hostile to
Turkish nationalism. Turkey is a relatively young country that is
still in the midst of making its own very distinctive transition to
modernity. Perhaps as much as any country Turkey is struggling to
gain the benefits of modernity without sacrificing the achievements,
memories, and glories of its past.
But what is becoming of France, formerly the greatest inspiration
throughout the world for equality of rights and universal democratic
culture associated with modernity. It was the French Revolution in
1789 that remains the decisive moment for an emancipatory alternative
to oppressive and autocratic government. In this French revolutionary
moment nothing was more central than the idea that human progress and
prosperity depended on freedom of thought and expression. The pride
of the French nation linked this openness to a variety of opinions on
the controversial issues of the day, and there was no anxiety that a
tension existed between a robust French nationalism and the affirmation
of unrestricted cultural freedom. So how should we interpret this
seeming French retreat from its own proudest contributions to modern
social and political life?
Of course, it would be a mistake to exaggerate this act of the
French Assembly, which is really more a gesture than a rupture. At
the same time, it does reflect the regressive side of French political
identity. In the background of such anti-democratic impulses, we think,
are the current threats to French public order that conservative
opinion blames on immigrant minorities. There are disturbing signs
that racist attitudes are gaining the upper hand in French society. In
such a setting, the Armenian issue becomes a vehicle for anti-Islamic
and anti-Turkish sentiments. Of course, there is also an obvious
opportunistic dimension that relates to French electoral politics, but
challenging Turkish refusal to acknowledge crimes against the Armenians
is also useful as a way of indirectly raising doubts about whether
Turkey will ever deserve to be a member of the European Union. It
is against this background that the peculiarity of non-voting by the
majority of the French Assembly needs to be primarily understood. In
effect, the punishment of deniers of Armenian genocide is too crude
an assault on freedom of thought to be an acceptable tactic even by
those who oppose Turkish EU membership, yet to vote against this bill
might seem to exempt Turkey from censure for its refusal to admit
that the 1915 massacres were, in fact, genocide, and would anger the
well-organized Armenian pressure groups that have so enthusiastically
backed this initiative.
Two main conclusions arise from these controversies: the futility
of legislating historical reality; and the importance of coming
to terms with historic injustices that give rise to pain, anger,
and ethnic tensions. How should Turkey now address the grievances
of the Armenians relating to the events of 1915? Is it important
to construct a new Turkish approach to this tormented past by
launching an independent inquiry that is freed from nationalistic
bias? It may be that the efforts of Pamuk and Shafak are hesitant
moves in this direction, aimed at helping the people of Turkey to
think more objectively about this contested part of their past for
the sake of Turkish national interests, so that the country can move
on. Under the best of circumstances it will be certainly impossible
to reach an accommodation with the most embittered among the Armenian
diaspora or to persuade extreme Turkish nationalists to reexamine the
Armenian grievances in an objective spirit. A serious Turkish effort
to explore the issue, aimed at achieving closure in good faith, is
likely to improve the overall international atmosphere with respect
to Turkey. It would also be a convincing demonstration that Turkey
is prepared to accept internal debate and controversy. Such moves
would be further evidence of the deepening of Turkish democracy. A
process of inquiry and reflection on such an inflamed subject will
not be easy, as extremists on both sides will do all in their power
to avoid a reasonable historical reckoning. But it will also not be
easy to go on pretending that there is no unfinished business arising
from this bloody Armenian encounter. Why not seize upon this French
abandonment of modernity to risk this Turkish affirmation of the
moral and political energies of change?