Zainab Badawi and Turkish analyst Ziya Meral discuss the arrest of ex-commander in chief of the Turkish armed forces and what this means for democracy in Turkey.
Honouring Turkish Schindlers of 1915
In almost every memorial site dedicated to the victims of the Holocaust, one finds sections honoring non-Jews who saved Jews from extermination. They are referred to as 'righteous among the nations' or righteous gentiles. The movie Schiendler's List was one account of such a story. A new book, the Lion's Shadow, recounts the story of another righteous gentile, Abdol-Hossein Sardari, an Iranian Muslim diplomat who saved thousands of Jews from a certain death.
Honouring heroism of non-Jews universalises the memory of the Holocaust and ensures that we do not simply see horrific events of WWII as an episode of evil Germans killing Jews. It helps us locate it within its historical setting and draw lessons for the future; lessons of how a continent can get carried away and lead millions of people to their deaths and how even in the most coercive settings, we human beings can rise up to a higher moral level.
Sadly, I have never seen any such section honouring Turks who risked their lives to save their Armenian friends and neighbors in all of the Armenian memorial sites I have seen. There were, however, sections honouring non-Armenians who have helped the Armenian cause in raising the issue of 1915 massacres. Only a handful of Armenian historians mention them, often in passing. Yet, we do see their traces in almost all biographies written by surviving Armenians.
Whenever I raised this with various Armenian activists and academics, I got two main responses. The most common one was relativization; well, yes, there were very few Turks who helped Armenians, but most of them did so to make money or even adopt the young kids so as to use them as free labor. Thus, their acts or their presence in the complex web of history was placed back into the neat and clear category of the eternal perpetrator Turk.
The second most common one was refusal; as long as Turks refuse to acknowledge what happened in 1915 as genocide, no one should ask Armenians to honour or sing praises of Turks; to do so will be glorifying the Turks and victimizing the Armenians further. Sadly, the same refusal to break down the a-historical category of the 'evil' Turk we see in relativization is also at play in refusal, albeit in a morally coated discourse.
Both of these responses are fundamentally flawed. First of all, the greatest portion of Armenians who survived the massacres and deportations did so with the help of people around them, may they be Turks or Kurds . And yes, while surviving children and woman might have been remarried or as it is with every orphan or poor kid in rural life worked as part of being offered shelter, there were many who simply had no motivation other than the desire to protect innocent people.
Secondly, at the pure moral level, it is a complete moral failure not being able to thank or respect or honour those who chose to do right thing and took serious personal risks. To say that one will do the morally right thing if only when someone else do a morally right thing completely undermines and destroys the morality it demands to start with. An act is moral and worthy on its own, not because another act is required in return.
Thirdly, honouring such Turks does not take away or diminish the depth and scope of hundreds of thousands Armenians who perished during the turbulent collapse of an empire. Far from it; it enables their suffering to be part of a common human history that can be shared and mourned for and remembered by not only Armenians today, but also the entire world, including the Turks. This makes sure that history does not remain the collective memory of a particular group in conflict with another's, but an episode, which we can co-process and own.
Currently the Armenian activists seem more resolved to communicate their hurts and pasts to everyone in the world but the Turkish public. Yet, they don't realize that unless the Turkish public sees their pain and urges the Turkish government to act, no Turkish government can ever address 1915 and no amount of legislations passed at world parliaments will bring us a step closer to absolution and acknowledgement. Their misguided efforts find their mimesis in over zealous Turkish activists, who see demonizaton and judgment of an entire group of people in calls for facing the past and vehemently refuse to accept it.
It is high time to bring the conversation to Anatolia, not to Washington DC or Paris, and find ways to make the past an integral part of the story of this land. And in that process, honoring Turks who saved Armenians would be a major break through. It will depolarise an extremely intense conversation and help us to discover the deep common humanity we all share.
Please do visit the small blog where I gather such stories and do share if you know or read other ones; http://www.projectcommonhumanity.net
UK and Turkey: A New Alternative European Alliance?
A Postmodern Turkey?
The strong vision of a homogenized nation-state began to weaken its hold. Appetite for military involvement in politics declined sharply. The cultural and economic elite of the three leading cities increasingly lost their hegemony. Religious beliefs and personal quests for meaning became trendy, but in potluck fashion, depending on the desired worldview and needs of the individual. Questions on previously clear-cut identity definitions, such as Turkishness, became points of debate. Cracks in carefully constructed national myths and histories began to appear. Melancholy and a romantic view of the good old days of the “founding fathers” descended like fog. Political activism turned to limited and shallow articulations of sensitivity expressed via changing Facebook profile pictures and leaving “bold” comments on newspaper websites.
Turkish architecture, too, started changing. Housing blocks broke with well-established traditional construction, and design and style were increasingly put first. Advertisers began selling “lifestyles” in “exclusive” compounds. Construction firms are now competing to build eco-friendly buildings. “Holistic” food products, yoga lessons and mild forms of East Asian philosophies are popular.
The days of valuing house decorations or cultural products to the level they are not Turkish are over. Contemporary designs that blend Anatolian colors and styles, as well as TV soap operas that place a rural way of life into contemporary İstanbul settings are meeting the deepening need for “authenticity” for alienated and rootless urban Turks. Thus, Turkish rock, rap and high-brow artists are using previously shunned Turkish beats and learning to cherish the rich heritage of the country. Rather than all-inclusive hotels dominated by hungry tourists, an increasing number of boutique hotels in hidden corners of the country provide ample satisfaction of the authentic experience and the pleasure of finding something not consumed by the mass market.
The careful reader, especially from North America and Europe, will smile upon hearing all this, as this description of Turkey may sound just like “home.” All of these are indeed signs of postmodernity. Postmodernity is a sociopolitical and cultural reality, not to be confused with postmodernism as a philosophical school of thought with a strong anti-realist tone. Derrida or Foucault or even consumption of an Andy Warhol print art are of no value in decoding footprints of postmodernity in today’s Turkey.
In line with the nature of postmodernity, unlike modernism and modernity, which were brought to Turkey through a small European educated or influenced elite and enforced top to bottom, postmodernity is an incoherent grassroots affair. This is alien to the current gatekeepers of Turkish intelligentsia and their comrade publishers, all of whom share the ever so melancholic memories of the days when the words “left” and “right” mattered, and where citing Marx was a sign of intellectual sophistication.
While one does see clinical cases of time capsules frozen in the 1970s in Turkey’s intellectual landscape, an increasing number are becoming today’s liberals with modified paradigms though strongly shaped by memories of the past. Slowly, we are seeing emerging cosmopolitan intellectuals, who can be committed Muslims or staunch atheists or Kurds or Armenians, who are talking of a plural Turkey that cherishes diversity and where equal citizenship based on individual rights is the main vision, not some macro-political narrative.
Political parties that did not realize these deep changes all died out one by one as the AK Party won one victory over another. In fact, even the strongest citadel of modernity, the Turkish Armed Forces (TSK), has had to come to terms with the new Turkey, albeit slowly and painfully. No surprise then, a leading general who delivered a key speech at the height of the AK Party versus the military match declared “postmodernists,” who did not see a strict nation-state vision as a precursor for being a nation, as a new national threat.
The AK Party saw and seized the changes by providing everything that postmodernity demanded: economic growth to sustain and increase consumerism, pragmatism with a moral language but beyond zero-sum idealism, affirmations of cultural authenticity along side allowing multiple identities, accountability and quality service from state structures, and most importantly a sense that we are a “cool” country.
Just as Turkey managed to formulate a unique blend of modernist ideas and appropriated them to suit itself, such as laïcité, Turkey is now adjusting into its own forms of postmodernity. Some of these developments are vital for Turkey to survive in the 21st century. Yet, experiences of Europe and North America show that postmodernity also has a deep dark side.
The world according to Bashar al-Assad
Interview on Turkish state visit to UK in 2011
A short clip of the BBC News interview with Ziya Meral on Turkish state visit to UK and Turkish-British relations.
For more background information on British-Turkish relations, see
"Promising future of British-Turkish Relations"
by Ziya Meral.
The true test of democracy in the Middle East
As the sociopolitical changes in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) continue to dazzle and excite, analysts are trying to decode what the word “democracy” means for the new actors in the region and how the democratization process may or may not unfold.
Unlike popular perceptions, the measure of things to come is not whether fair and free elections are held, but whether or not religious freedom will be upheld.
A Western ambassador once told me with great excitement that Saudi Arabia was undertaking slow but major reforms to improve its legal system. There were improvements in all human rights concerns. When I asked him about religious freedom issues, he said that would never change. He spoke of how he had urged a leading prince to allow a church to open in the country. The prince replied, “Just as there are no mosques in the Vatican, there can never be a church in Saudi Arabia, the holy land of Islam.”
The states in the region see regulation of religion as an important aspect of forming national narratives and maintaining power. Thus, even Muslims who do not fit into the officially endorsed versions of Islam are denied their rights to live freely according to their own beliefs. Non-Muslims from traditional ethnic communities are often allowed to dwell in their ghettos, granted they do not demand equal rights or opportunities.
Even that limited understanding of tolerance disappears when Muslims leave Islam for another religion. While the United Arab Emirates publishes yearly a proud official list of people converting to Islam and the al-Azhar University in Egypt ensures that new converts to Islam change their ID cards and civil registration within 24 hours, the reverse is not possible. Those who leave Islam face life-threatening conditions, both from their governments and their own communities.
When I conducted field research across the region for the writing of the report “No Place to Call Home: Experiences of Apostates from Islam and Failures of the International Community,” I saw with my own eyes the brutal reality of how even the most liberal Muslim voices can react to news of a Muslim leaving Islam. Ironically, the same voices would urge me to continue promoting religious freedom so that they can be free to live as they want to without ever realizing that either all human beings have a right to freedom of religion, belief, conscience and thought, or none of us do.
Will things change as the democracy fever spreads across the region? Sadly, I do not think so. The democratic transition pretty much meant the end of Christianity in Iraq. Christian communities were forced out of their historical dwellings by Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds alike. Since they had no militias and were seen as American proxies, they were easy prey for terrorist groups. The Iraq experience proved that fair and free elections and elected governments do not mean that every human being will be treated equally, protected and given a voice over the future of their country.
While discourses on democracy and human rights float lavishly in MENA today, the brutal handling of Coptic protests in Cairo by the Egyptian army and numerous attacks on Coptic Christians and Sufi Muslims in Egypt since January point to serious discrepancies. Even among “liberal” and democracy-promoting, conservative circles and media, the victims were declared the inciters, and rather than addressing the problems, the blame was once again laid on “foreign powers.”
The fact is Christianity is slowly but clearly disappearing across MENA. With the exception of Lebanon, even sizable Christian communities -- such as the 10-million strong Copts of Egypt -- live as excluded, second-class citizens. Most Muslims, Europeans and Americans seem shocked to hear that Christianity is actually a Middle Eastern religion and belongs to these lands.
The same fate awaits other communities, too. With the exception of Turkey, the chances of meeting a Jew anywhere in the Middle East and North Africa are as slim as meeting a famous rock star. Followers of Bahaism, which originated in Iran, suffer serious abuse and are denied almost every socioeconomic right across the region. Yet, no emerging Arab democrats -- even the most liberal ones -- talk about the fate of the millions of marginalized people among them. For now, democracy in MENA seems to be in its most naked and simple form: the rule of the majority for the majority’s interests.
So, if you want to take measure of how close MENA is getting to the ideals of democracy and human rights, look at where religious freedom in its countries is heading. Simply put, the extent to which a country grants religious freedom is the extent to which all other rights will be protected and democracy will mature and be sincere.
Demystifying social media and the "Arab Spring"
Published by the Commentator, 23 October 2011
Now that the dust is settling and the shape of things to come (or not to come) is becoming clear, we can all leave aside our amplified excitement over the role played by social media in revolutions we have witnessed in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) this year.
While I do remain an avid user of tools such Twitter as well as keeping my own blog, the attention that social media has got in the mainstream media since January 2011 is not backed by reality in the field and at times, far from being helpful, it brought along additional problems.
Firstly, the limited nature of communication through social media meant that complex events and developments were reduced down to misleading sound bites.
Take the phrase "Arab Spring" for example. At its face value, it seems to capture what has been happening in MENA and still leaves 129 characters to play with in the 140 character economy. Yet nothing can be more misleading and problematic than that phrase.
The changes in the region are not simply about Arabs, but include Turks, Iranians and a host of other ethnic groups and countries.
In addition, the language of 'spring' assumes a linear process from worse to better. But we know that socio-political changes are not linear, and after spring might come winter.
However, the most troubling part of the phrase is it's ethnocentrism, that communicates a patronizing message that the Arabs are finally waking up and demanding freedoms like us; as if they have been sleeping all these years.
Secondly, the place of internet based social media is a lot smaller in MENA than it’s made out to be.
Various sources, such as the World Bank or Internet World Stats, provide us with credible data on the use of internet in a given country. Internet penetration rates remain at an average of thirty percent across the region.
In the UAE it is thought to be more than sixty-five percent but in Syria it is thought to be around nineteen percent and in Yemen, as little as nine percent.
In Egypt, internet use was around twenty percent by the time of impeachment of Mubarak, showing a leap after January with some 7 million new users.
An internet business advisor in Cairo told me that in January, Twitter had only an estimated 300 thousand users in the country. He also pointed out that the most widely spread tweets were in English, thus limiting the access to a small number of Egyptians.
The humble foot print of social media is also visible in the fact that the internet savvy and relatively affluent youth were only one of the cohorts making up millions of Egyptians from every walk of life who stood up for their country.
They were more visible than the trash collecting Zebeleen or the victims of state violence or indeed members of religious movements and the hungry, unemployed, urban poor, because with their handle on media, language skills and appeal, they were able to attract a disproportionate amount of media coverage.
Thirdly, the use of internet in the region is still minuscule compared to the two main communication tools people use to gather information and mobilize: satellite TV and mobile phones.
In Libya, while internet penetration is around seven percent, back in 2008, it became the first African country to reach 100 percent mobile phone penetration. Even those who tweeted from Tahrir square and those who were trying to organize marches and protests in Syria, Iran, Bahrain and Libya were using mobile phones to do so.
Since literacy rates remain low and language barriers limit on-line information sources, and since almost every house in MENA has satellite dishes which, unlike internet satellite signals, are practically impossible to block completely nationwide, people were watching channels like Al Jazeera for their news.
Television remains the number one source of information and media for this region.
Fourthly, social media also caused serious damage too.
False reports spread like wildfire. It became impossible to confirm stories and facts behind poor quality clips on YouTube.
This also gave a great platform for state security services to manipulate social media, spread rumours that snipers were firing on people and that demonstrations were not happening.
Unconfirmed information or sinister misinformation made reporting developments much more challenging. Governments were also able to map out who was behind what and who was related to whom with a few clicks.
And lastly, social media mania, cherished by the marketing gurus of certain websites and hailed as the future of social change by Western commentators, blinded us to the main factor that makes revolutions happen: human beings who risk everything.
It is the human being that utilizes various communicative tools, written, spoken or visual, to reach out to others.
It is human physical presence that protests, demands change and ousts governments.
A click on a mouse or keypad, no matter what it means for the advertisement providers and for eager owners of frequently visited websites, does not mean a thing in itself.
For these reasons, while we can't deny that social media did contribute a pinch of salt to the grand dish brought together by a host of factors, ultimately all praise is due to the brave people of MENA, the vast majority of who have no idea of who Mark Zuckerberg is.
Interview on Turkish-Kurdish Conflict
BBC's Kirsty Lang interviews Ziya Meral on Turkish incursions into Northern Iraq and on going Turkish-Kurdish tensions.
Religion and diplomacy in the 21st century: the Turkish model
Published by Today's Zaman, 17 October 2011
When newspapers briefly mentioned that Turkish Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu joined in prayer at a mosque in Bosnia during a state visit, I was surprised that the story was not debated in the Turkish press.
This shows how far Turkey has come toward feeling at home in its own skin. There was a time when Muslim Turkish women wearing headscarves were not admitted to events at Turkish embassies. But more than domestic debates on religion and secularism, what we are seeing in Turkey now is a fast-emerging model for the practice of diplomacy in the 21st century.
A strong unwritten code, mostly the residue of 19th and early 20th century classical ideas of diplomatic service, still guides practices in foreign ministries around the world. One of the biggest taboos on the list is the topic of religion. The conventional wisdom not only forbids talking about religion with colleagues or peers in other countries, but also forces diplomats and politicians to hide their own religious beliefs. Religion is seen as a topic outside of the craft of diplomacy, save for the occasional handshake with an important but liberal religious figure. When Tony Blair’s personal faith became a public discussion in the UK, his spin doctor famously declared, “We don’t do God!”
Since the 1970s, however, this conventional diplomatic wisdom has been suffocating foreign policy practice and hindering countries from engaging with one of the most important factors in today’s world. Since international relations theorists and practitioners are some 20 years behind sociologists and political scientists in grasping the place of religion in the world today, the world’s high-flying diplomatic elite remain ignorant and detached from the topic. This was what Madeline Albright lamented in her book “The Mighty and the Almighty.” Ms. Albright pointed out that she had countless advisors on every possible issue, but none on religion. While 9/11 and the war on terror created an exploitative market of religion and terror experts, for most governments conversations on religion do not go beyond counterinsurgency policies.
Recently, the White House has initiated efforts to bring religion experts within the giant US foreign policy machinery together in various working groups, to understand how religion affects global affairs. The Norwegian and Dutch foreign ministries also increasingly sought to get their head around religion and are engaging with religious figures. Canada is considering creating an ambassador-at-large on religious freedom issues, just like the US. The British Foreign and Commonwealth Office has only one staff member in its human rights team whose portfolio includes religion as well as a few other “minor” concerns. That’s probably more than the French foreign ministry, as the domestic context in France and its obsession with “cults” results in an utter ignorance of religious issues.
In all of these cases, engagement with religion is only at the early stage of recognizing the truth of religion’s role in today’s world. But diplomats in the field continue to be deaf and mute, blinded and handicapped by the old conventional wisdom. There is a worrying belief among American diplomats that the US Constitution bans them from engaging with religion. On the other hand, for some other countries, such as Iran, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, officially sponsored missionary work and the manipulation of key religious figures are seen as important assets in their toolkit for advancing their national interests.
Silently, Turkey has taken the conversation to the next level; it neither shuns the topic nor promotes a particular brand of religion in pursuing its geopolitical ambitions. It plays diplomacy in extremely secular and pragmatic ways, yet, at the same time sees no problem in expressing religious belief, using religious language and appealing to religious values when it needs to.
The Turkish prime minister’s visit to a key Shiite shrine in Iraq to promote Sunni-Shiite relations might have been dismissed by Western diplomatic circles as a populist and non-diplomatic gesture. However, for those of us who have been raising the alarm about the increasing pressure at the Shiite and Sunni fault lines, this was in fact a diplomatic act for the future of the region. Unlike all other models of religious engagement in the 21st century, Turkey is managing to use its religious capital not only with fellow Muslims but also with non-Muslims and the wider world. While their European and American counterparts find it naive, many of us have welcomed Turkish and Spanish efforts to create an Alliance of Civilizations.
This silent paradigm shift is no coincidence. The Justice and Development Party’s (AKP) foreign policy makers are schooled not only in classical Western concepts but also in Islamic thought and deeply appreciate the complexities and power of religious beliefs. It seems the “Turkish model” is useful not only for helping Muslim-majority states think about balancing conservatism and democracy. It can also help Western diplomats think about how they can update their diplomatic framework.