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Between Military Rule and Democracy: Regime Consolidation in Greece, Turkey, and Beyond
 2016058012, 9780472130429, 9780472122998

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Between Military Rule and Democracy Regime Consolidation in Greece, Turkey, and Beyond Yaprak Gürsoy University of Michigan Press • Ann Arbor

Page iv → Copyright В© 2017 by Yaprak GГјrsoy All rights reserved This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, including illustrations, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publisher. Published in the United States of America by the University of Michigan Press Manufactured in the United States of America A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: GГјrsoy, Yaprak. Title: Between military rule and democracy : regime consolidation in Greece, Turkey, and beyond / Yaprak GГјrsoy. Description: Ann Arbor : University of Michigan Press, [2017] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016058012| ISBN 9780472130429 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780472122998 (e-book) Subjects: LCSH: Civil-military relations—Cross-cultural studies. | Democracy—Cross-cultural studies. | Intervention (International law) Classification: LCC JF195.C5 .G87 2017 | DDC 321.09—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016058012

Page v → For Selman

Page viii →Page ix →

Preface and Acknowledgments This book has a particularly long story, divided into two phases separated by a six-year interlude. The first phase was completed when I defended my dissertation on the history of regime change and military interventions in Greece and Turkey for my PhD studies at the University of Virginia. After my defense in spring 2007, I started working in Turkey and had to set aside my dissertation to receive my associate professorship in the Turkish system. I worked on journal articles and a Turkish book on contemporary Turkish civil-military relations. I returned to my dissertation and started converting it into a book in 2013, after I applied for my associate professorship. In the six years between my graduation and returning to the project, a lot changed in the political scene in Greece and Turkey. I also became a much more mature researcher, with more questions in mind and (unfortunately for my sake) a more perfectionist character. As I started revising the dissertation, I maintained its core theory and around half of the case studies. I added three new chapters and rewrote almost the entire introduction and conclusion. Except for chapter 2, the final product does not resemble the original work much. My gratitude to mentors and friends spreads over a period of roughly fifteen years. I am bound to forget names of people whose contributions to my intellectual life in one way or another, minor or major, made critical improvements in the book. I apologize for the incompleteness of the acknowledgments below. At the University of Virginia, I am grateful to David Waldner, who sparked my original interest in regime change, supervised my dissertation, and offered mentorship in the most critical phases of the dissertation and the Page x →book. William Quandt continuously encouraged me to go back to the dissertation and to convert it into a book. He made me believe in myself whenever I doubted. Gerard Alexander was the perfect second reader when I was writing my dissertation, and he has been a friendly, understanding mentor since then, always ready to provide informative and attentive advice. My dissertation research in Greece was made possible by funding from the Greek State Scholarship’s Foundation (Idryma Kratikon Ypotrofion); my research in Turkey by the Gallatin Fellowship, granted by the Feris Foundation of America and the University of Virginia. My friends at the University of Virginia—Aycan Akdeniz, Tim Emmert, AsД±m GГјndГјz, MГјge KГ¶kten, Evangelia Koutsokera, Ryan Saylor, Tara Saylor, Sophie Richardson, SadД±k Гњlker, and Rachel Vanderhill—eased the most difficult parts of graduate school. Even though I lost touch with many of them, I still remember that they made Charlottesville my home. In Greece, I would not have been as content as I was without Asia Kozyra’s never-ending friendly support and belief in me. SГјreyya DipЕџar helped me visualize what was in my mind when he assisted me in drawing the figures in the theory chapter of the dissertation, which still make up the core of the book. As I was wavering over how to produce a book out of the dissertation after 2013, many people read and commented on my book proposal, clarifying my ideas and what I should be doing. Gregory Gause and Richard Youngs offered much appreciated advice on the proposal. BehlГјl Г–zkan, Ryan Saylor, and AyЕџe Zarakol read the proposal and shared important tips on book writing, editing, and publishing. Carol LaMotte edited my English (often the same pages several times) extraordinarily quickly and patiently. My friend Eleni Agrafa made arrangements and drove me around in Athens in February 2014 for most of my interviews. Without her, the second round of field research would not have been as much fun or as productive. I also thank the three anonymous reviewers who read the entire book for the University of Michigan Press and provided critical input. In the very final stages of the book, IЕџД±l Ећenol made the last touch by redesigning parts of the cover image and helping me to express the book’s contents with one simple illustration. I believe that, professionally and otherwise, everybody is a product of their social environment. I have been incredibly blessed with the most loving, supporting, and encouraging friends, colleagues, and family. The Department of International Relations at Istanbul Bilgi University is my professional “clan.” Each and every member of the green building has a very special place in my heart. We are a big and surprisingly functional

family. Inside and outside of the department Г–zge Onursal, IЕџД±k Г–zel, Hasret Dikici-Bilgin, and Senem AydД±n-DГјzgit perfectly carry out the duties of sisterhood: checkingPage xi → up on me, keeping me balanced, advising, and not shying away from necessary arguing. The family I was born to—Tahir, Aysel, and BaЕџak GГјrsoy—has been there for me no matter what. Without their backing, I would not have received the education or made the intellectual progression I have. They endorsed me to start graduate school and finish it. Everything I do is to make them proud. The family I chose was the best decision I ever made. Selman DipЕџar gave me a wonderful second mother and father; SГјreyya, a brother I never had; and our daughter, Azra, who makes me want to jump out of bed every morning. I dedicate this book to Selman because he deserves the greatest acknowledgment for all of the sacrifices he continues to make for my professional life.

Page xii →Page xiii →

Abbreviations I used English abbreviations for names of all political parties except PASOK and SYRIZA (for which English acronyms are never used) and for Thai and Arabic organizations. For most other Greek and Turkish organizations, I used their original abbreviations. The original Greek and Turkish names of parties and organizations are included in parentheses below. ASEAN: Association of Southeast Asian Nations ASO: Ankara Chamber of Industry (Ankara Sanayi OdasД±) CP: Communist Party of Greece (ОљОїОјОјОїП…ОЅО№ПѓП„О№ОєПЊ ОљПЊОјОјО± О•О»О»О¬ОґО±П‚) CPB: Crown Property Bureau (Thailand) CP-In: Communist Party of Greece–Interior (ОљОїОјОјОїП…ОЅО№ПѓП„О№ОєПЊ ОљПЊОјОјО± О•О»О»О¬ОґО±П‚ О•ПѓП‰П„ОµПЃО№ОєОїПЌ) CSF: Central Security Forces (Egypt) CU: Center Union (О€ОЅП‰ПѓО№П‚ ОљО-ОЅП„ПЃОїП…) CUP: Committee of Union and Progress (Д°ttihat ve Terakki Cemiyeti) DД°SK: Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey (TГјrkiye Devrimci Д°ЕџГ§i SendikalarД± Konfederasyonu) DLP: Democratic Left Party (Demokratik Sol Parti) DP: Democratic Party [Turkey] (Demokrat Parti) DSE: Democratic Army of Greece (О”О·ОјОїОєПЃО±П„О№ОєПЊП‚ ОЈП„ПЃО±П„ПЊП‚ О•О»О»О¬ОґО±П‚) EAM: National Liberation Front (О•ОёОЅО№ОєПЊ О‘ПЂОµО»ОµП…ОёОµПЃП‰П„О№ОєПЊ ОњО-П„П‰ПЂОї) EBDA: Egyptian Business Development Association EC: European Community ECB: European Central Bank ECHR: European Court of Human Rights Page xiv →EEC: European Economic Community ELAS: National Popular Liberation Army (О•О»О»О·ОЅО№ОєПЊП‚ О›О±ПЉОєПЊП‚ О‘ПЂОµО»ОµП…ОёОµПЃП‰П„О№ОєПЊП‚ ОЈП„ПЃО±П„ПЊП‚) EMASYA: Police and Public Security Assistance Protocol (Emniyet AsayiЕџ YardД±mlaЕџma ProtokolГј) EU: European Union EVEA: Athens Chamber of Commerce and Industry (О•ОјПЂОїПЃО№ОєПЊ ОєО±О№ О’О№ОїОјО·П‡О±ОЅО№ОєПЊ О•ПЂО№ОјОµО»О·П„О®ПЃО№Ої О‘ОёО·ОЅПЋОЅ)

FDI: foreign direct investment FJP: Freedom and Justice Party (Egypt) FRP: Free Republican Party (Serbest Cumhuriyet FД±rkasД±) FTP: For Thais Party GD: Golden Dawn (О§ПЃП…ПѓО® О‘П…ОіО®) GDP: gross domestic product GNP: gross national product GSEE: General Confederation of Greek Workers (О“ОµОЅО№ОєО® ОЈП…ОЅОїОјОїПѓПЂОїОЅОґОЇО± О•ПЃОіО±П„П‰ОЅ О•О»О»О¬ОґО±П‚) IG: Independent Greeks (О‘ОЅОµОѕО¬ПЃП„О·П„ОїО№ О€О»О»О·ОЅОµП‚) IMF: International Monetary Fund ISI: import substitution industrialization Д°SO: Istanbul Chamber of Industry (Д°stanbul Sanayi OdasД±) Д°TO: Istanbul Chamber of Commerce (Д°stanbul Ticaret OdasД±) JDP: Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve KalkД±nma Partisi) JP: Justice Party (Adalet Partisi) LGBT: lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender MB: Muslim Brotherhood (Egypt) MP: Motherland Party (Anavatan Partisi) MГњSД°AD: Independent Industrialists’ and Businessmen’s Association (MГјstakil Sanayici ve Д°ЕџadamlarД± DerneДџi) NACC: National Anti-Corruption Commission (Thailand) NAP: Nationalist Action Party (MilliyetГ§i Hareket Partisi) NATO: North Atlantic Treaty Organization NCPO: National Council of Peace and Order (Thailand) ND: New Democracy (ОќО-О± О”О·ОјОїОєПЃО±П„ОЇО±) NEC: National Election Commission (Thailand) NRC: National Reform Council (Thailand) NRU: National Radical Union (бјОёОЅО№ОєбЅґ бї¬О№О¶ОїПѓПЂО±ПѓП„О№ОєбЅґ бјќОЅП‰ПѓО№П‚) NSC: National Security Council (Milli GГјvenlik Kurulu)

NSP: National Salvation Party (Milli Selamet Partisi) NUC: National Union Committee (Milli Birlik Komitesi) OECD: Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development Page xv →OYAK: Turkish Armed Forces Assistance and Pension Fund (Ordu YardД±mlaЕџma Kurumu) PAD: People’s Alliance for Democracy (Thailand) PASOK: Panhellenic Socialist Movement (О О±ОЅОµО»О»О®ОЅО№Ої ОЈОїПѓО№О±О»О№ПѓП„О№ОєПЊ ОљОЇОЅО·ОјО±) PDP: People’s Democratic Party (HalklarД±n Demokratik Partisi) PDRC: People’s Democratic Reform Committee (Thailand) PKK: Kurdistan Workers’ Party (Partiya KarkerГЄn KurdistanГЄ) POR: Popular Orthodox Rally (О›О±ПЉОєПЊП‚ ОџПЃОёПЊОґОїОѕОїП‚ ОЈП…ОЅО±ОіОµПЃОјПЊП‚) PPP: People’s Power Party (Thailand) PRP: Progressive Republican Party (Terakkiperver Cumhuriyet FД±rkasД±) RPP: Republican People’s Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi) SCAF: Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (Egypt) SCC: Supreme Constitutional Court (Egypt) SEV: Hellenic Federation of Enterprises (ОЈПЌОЅОґОµПѓОјОїП‚ О•ПЂО№П‡ОµО№ПЃО®ПѓОµП‰ОЅ ОєО±О№ О’О№ОїОјО·П‡О±ОЅО№ПЋОЅ) SPO: State Planning Organization (Devlet Planlama TeЕџkilatД±) SSC: State Security Courts (Devlet GГјvenlik Mahkemeleri) SYRIZA: Coalition of the Radical Left (ОЈП…ОЅО±ПѓПЂО№ПѓОјПЊП‚ ОЎО№О¶ОїПѓПЂО±ПѓП„О№ОєО®П‚ О‘ПЃО№ПѓП„ОµПЃО¬П‚) TAF: Turkish Armed Forces TESK: Confederation of Turkish Tradesmen and Craftsmen (TГјrkiye Esnaf ve SanatkarlarД± Konfederasyonu) TД°SK: Confederation of Turkish Employer Associations (TГјrkiye Д°Еџveren SendikalarД± Konfederasyonu) TLP: Turkish Labor Party (TГјrkiye Д°ЕџГ§i Partisi) TLT: Thais Love Thais TOBB: Turkish Union of Chambers (TГјrkiye Odalar ve Borsalar BirliДџi) TPP: True Path Party (DoДџru Yol Partisi) TГњRK-Д°Ећ: Confederation of Trade Unions of Turkey (TГјrkiye Д°ЕџГ§i SendikalarД± Konfederasyonu) TГњSД°AD: Turkish Industry and Business Association (TГјrk Sanayicileri ve Д°ЕџadamlarД± DerneДџi)

TUSKON: Turkish Confederation of Businessmen and Industrialists (TГјrkiye Д°Еџ AdamlarД± ve Sanayiciler Konfederasyonu) UAF: Union of Armed Forces (SilahlД± Kuvvetler BirliДџi) UDD: United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (Thailand) UDL: United Democratic Left (О•ОЅО№О±ОЇО± О”О·ОјОїОєПЃО±П„О№ОєО® О‘ПЃО№ПѓП„ОµПЃО¬) VAT: value-added tax VP: Virtue Party (Fazilet Partisi) WP: Welfare Party (Refah Partisi)

Page xvi →Page xvii →

Note on Transliteration I maintained all diacritical marks in Turkish letters (Д°, Г§, Дџ, Д±, Г¶, Еџ, Гј) as they were in the original Turkish form. I did not use a specific form of transliteration for Thai and Arabic but preferred the most widely used English versions of names. For transliterating Greek letters, I used the table below, except when I cited Greek personal names with common English translations and the works of Greek authors written in English, in which cases I used the spelling in the publications. I used the English versions of well-known city names in Greece and Turkey. Greek О± ОІ Оі Оґ Оµ О¶ О· Оё О№ Оє О» Ој ОЅ Оѕ

Latin a v g d e z e th i k l m n x

Greek Ої ПЂ ПЃ Пѓ (П‚) П„ П…

Latin o p r s t y

П† f П‡ h П€ ps П‰ o О±П…, ОµП… av, ev or af, ef ОіОє ng ОїП… ou

Page xviii →Page 1 →

1. Introduction Cases, Concepts, Political Actors, and Interests On 27 April 1967, in his first public statement after taking over the Greek government, Colonel Papadopoulos claimed that the military had intervened to prevent the threat of anarchy. In a later interview, his colleague and one of the three leaders of the junta, Brigadier General Stylianos Pattakos, reiterated that the country had suffered from political instability and communist threat prior to the intervention.1 Similarly, in Turkey, when the armed forces took over the government on 12 September 1980, they announced that the military had done so because the state was not properly functioning, political parties were failing to take necessary measures, and the country was being driven to chaos.2 Even though the main reasons for these interventions were diverse, sections of the army in both instances perceived the country to be under threat, blamed the politicians, and claimed that they were saving the country from its own ills. Despite this similarity, however, the nature and subsequent developments of the interventions were strikingly different. One difference (among many) was the way the civilian elites responded to the interventions. In Greece, the junta was not supported by the majority of the elites. Theodore Couloumbis, a Greek professor who conducted more than 200 interviews with political leaders between 1971 and 1974, found that even the extreme rightists did not support the authoritarian regime. During his testimony before the US House of Representatives Committee on Foreign Affairs, he stressed that “the preponderance of the Greek politicians, whether of left, center, or conservative orientations, findВ .В .В . themselves in strong opposition to the military regime.”3 Yet, notwithstanding this lack of support, the junta captured the government successfully and the military was able to rule almost unhindered for seven years. Lasting only for three years, the rule of the military in Turkey was completelyPage 2 → different. The intervention obtained support from many quarters of Turkish society and gained immediate control of the country. Regarding his decision to participate in the 1983 military-led transition to democracy, SГјleyman Demirel, a prominent Turkish politician and an opponent of the coup, explained, “Who was going to be behind us if we had opposed the coup? .В .В .В In Turkey, the struggle for [democracy] is still not a goal shared by all.”4 Demirel’s words have relevance for understanding Turkish politics even today. Although the last overt coup was staged in 1980, the military controlled significant political decisions until recently. Alleged military conspiracies against the elected government led to highly controversial trials in 2008 and the imprisonment of senior ranking officers. However, the cases were believed to be based on fictitious evidence, and all suspects were released from prison within a few years. In retrials, the accused were acquitted from all charges, revealing the political nature of the first decisions. Indeed, the cases did not resolve many of the regime’s other problems and accentuated the deficiencies in the rule of law and human rights. As the conflict and polarization between the governing Justice and Development Party and the opposition forces continue, different meanings attributed to democracy hollow out the basis of the regime. While Turkey has persistently struggled with its democracy, Greece strengthened its democracy after the collapse of the colonels’ junta, and the armed forces were brought under civilian control. The majority of the population backed the fundamental principles of the regime, giving the impression that democracy was now unshakable. Yet, after the 2009 economic crisis, democracy destabilized again, as the radical left and the right posed new challenges. Under the government led by the Coalition of the Radical Left (SYRIZA), polarization among political parties and in society intensified. As in Turkey, different understandings of what democracy means began to clash, resulting not only in continuing economic turmoil but in political turmoil as well. As Turkey and Greece exemplify, when it comes to elite and public support, similarities and differences can be found across diverse cases of military interventions and democratic experiences. This book analyzes such parallels and investigates the origins of various types of authoritarian and democratic regimes in countries where the

military is a significant political actor. Examining the roots of regimes where the military is one of the dominant actors necessarily entails analyzing the variation in the behavior of the armed forces. Thus, this book secondly inquires why the armed forces variously intervene in politics via short-lived coups d’état, establish or support longer-term authoritarian regimes, or come under the democratic control of civilians. Page 3 →I argue that political regimes and military interventions are determined by the power of the elites relative to the opposition (levels of costs of suppression) and by the elites’ perception of the degree to which their interests are threatened (levels of costs of toleration). High-intensity conflict among the elites and/or between the upper and lower classes threatens the security and well-being of the elites, leading them to respond with repressive measures. The success of repression, however, depends on the strength of the suppressors vis-Г -vis their opponents. Consolidated authoritarian regimes occur when the majority of political, economic, and military elites perceive that the lower classes pose high levels of threat to the elites’ interests. These elites form alliances in support of the creation or sustenance of an authoritarian regime, resulting in the success of their repressive strategies. Unconsolidated democracies with short-lived military coups d’état come about when the military, political, and economic elites are threatened by each other. Successful coups in unconsolidated democracies take place when the military initiates the coup in coalition with a section of the elites. Unsuccessful coup attempts occur when the insurgents are not supported by the elites and the rest of the military. Unconsolidated authoritarian regimes differ from their consolidated counterparts by the level of support they garner. In these authoritarian regimes, a faction of the military and/or the political elite perceives threats to its interests from the electorate and establishes or sustains a repressive regime. However, (other) political elites have liberal preferences and therefore oppose the authoritarian regime. Similarly, a significant portion of the lower classes engage in contentious action. Consolidated democracy emerges when political, economic, and military elite groups do not perceive threats to their interests from the lower classes or from each other. Additionally, interventionist military cliques do not have sufficient power to repress the opposition and cannot gain support within the armed forces and among other elite groups. Table 1.1 briefly summarizes the main arguments that will be developed further in chapter 2. In the remainder of this chapter, I explain the selection of cases, define the regime outcomes I analyze, and identify the relevant political actors.

Greece and Turkey in Comparative Perspective The primary cases of this book are the Greek and Turkish authoritarian and democratic regimes since the interwar period until the end of 2015. The two countries are particularly rich in their experience with various regimes and military interventions. I analyze 4 episodes of authoritarianism, Page 4 →6 periods of democracy, and 10 shortlived coups with different degrees of success since the 1920s, by employing comparative historical research methodology.5 I base some of the findings for the periods between the 1960s and 2015 on field research, involving around 150 interviews with native businesspeople, military officers, and politicians. Where necessary for earlier historical periods, I researched the national archives and relied on the memoirs of influential actors.6 Combining this type of in-depth research with cross-case and within-case comparisons provides more theoretical insights than would a single case study focusing on one episode of military intervention or democratization. A longitudinal analysis of the interwar period until December 2015 makes it possible to recognize long-term structural changes and to underscore the evolution of both class (elite versus nonelite) and state-society relations. Fully grasping contemporary developments in any country is possible only by looking at the particular ways in which past conflicts among various groups in society were resolved (or preserved). Greece and Turkey contribute to our understanding of regime change in other countries where militaries play a significant role. The abundance of various regimes and military interventions makes the two countries, when combined, a natural laboratory of different outcomes. One of the critical observations from Greece and Turkey is that while some of the coups were initiated for the purposes of “fixing” the regime and staying in power for a shorter period of time, others took over to establish longer-term authoritarian regimes. An investigation into the reasons for these two different types of interventions reveals significantly divergent motives on the part of coup makersPage 5 → operating in diverse structural settings. In addition, not all coup attempts were successful. Failed coup attempts were quite common, having important implications for the regimes against which these

interventions were directed, as well as for the subsequent role of the military in political life. Table 1.1. Summary of the Theory Costs of Suppression Coalitions among the elites in support of repressive measures?  YES HIGH (from Consolidated the lower Unconsolidated authoritarianism authoritarianism classes) Successful Military Initially United MODERATE short-lived coup (from other in an Fragile coup in unconsolidated elite groups) unconsolidated democracy democracy LOW (no — Consolidated democracy major threat)

NO

Military Initially Split Failed coup in unconsolidated democracy

The literature on civil-military relations has mostly ignored why some militaries establish authoritarian regimes and others stay in power for only a few years. Earlier works written by doyens of the literature identified and labeled different coup patterns with various durations.7 As groundbreaking as their classifications were, they were mostly descriptive and not explanatory.8 Moreover, a methodical investigation of the relative successes of military interventions was not attempted. The more recent literature distinguished successful and unsuccessful military rule and its influence on the democratic regime that followed. Yet this body of work focused mostly on one significant component of democracy, how to control the military. Only with respect to this question did it deal with different kinds of military interventions before and during regime transition. Some volumes overlooked prior military rule altogether and focused solely on the creation of democratic civil-military institutions after the transition was completed.9 For the most part, the recent genre treated civil-military relations as a sui generis topic, outside the broader question of when we observe authoritarian or democratic outcomes.10 As I show in chapter 2, the literature on regime change is guilty of the same fallacy and does not take the military into account when explaining different regimes. By studying Greece and Turkey since the interwar period, I investigate military interventions from different angles—their causes, nature (short-lived or authoritarian), and relative successes—with important contributions to the literatures on civil-military relations and regime change. I bring together the false separation between the earlier and more recent works on civil-military relations and present a theoretical framework that explains both regime change and military interventions. As I demonstrate in chapter 7 by analyzing Thailand and Egypt, the arguments can be applied to countries with similarly strong militaries and to contemporary interventions in other countries. Greek and Turkish regime change and civil-military relations have been widely studied in the literature. Apart from single-country studies, Greece is usually examined among Southern European cases of democratization. The third wave of democratization started in Southern Europe, and there has therefore been much interest in understanding the democratic transitions in the 1970s and their consolidation in Portugal, Spain, and Greece in the 1980s.11 Limiting the scope of regime change to only two decades led, however,Page 6 → to a narrow focus on successful outcomes and the use of methods of agreement, which drew on similarities across cases. Studying Southern European democratization without failed incidents necessarily led to selection bias.12 The result was an overemphasis on elites (usually defined as political party leaders) and the pacts that they made among themselves during the critical phases of the collapse of the authoritarian regimes and the subsequent stages of consolidation.13 Not surprisingly, most comparative studies on Greek regime change fell into the genre of transition studies—those types of work that analyzed democratic outcomes through the process of elite negotiations,

sometimes employing game theory.14 Although this scholarship has enlightened our understanding of the Greek transition in the 1970s and democratic consolidation in the 1980s, it could not provide sufficient explanations for the failure of democracy until then. Likewise, this type of research proved to be limited for understanding the regime crisis following the economic crunch in 2009. This book fills this gap by including previous authoritarian episodes and unconsolidated democracies. It offers new observations based on methods of both agreement and difference, also helping to shed light on the recent deconsolidation of the regime.15 There are a few scholarly works that include Turkey in Southern Europe or compare it with Greece, but they share similar shortcomings in explaining beyond the episodes on which they focus and in offering an account of the previous regimes, past military interventions, and current developments in Turkey.16 Indeed, in contrast to Greece, comparative studies including Turkey are rarer, and most of the literature on Turkish regime change and civil-military relations consists of single-country analyses.17 A few exceptions include Turkey in the region of the Middle East or among Muslim nations.18 This grouping, however, leads to an amplification of Turkey’s uniqueness as a country that only experienced military interventions for short periods, a relatively durable democracy, and a Western ally with strong ties with the EU. Yet none of these attributes are unique to Turkey when compared with its neighbor Greece. Greece and Turkey lay in the political and geographical peripheries of their respective regions of Europe and the Middle East, making the scholarly distinction drawn between them more superficial than real. The two countries share analogous histories, such as their common Ottoman heritage. They have similar understandings of nationalism and controversial senses of belonging to the West, reinforced by the historical interactions between them.19 The international context in which the regime changes took place was also alike. Greece and Turkey were influenced by the same Page 7 →world wars that tore Europe apart. During the Cold War, both countries were allied with the West, and as NATO members, they received substantial military aid. Both countries applied to the European Economic Community (EEC) in 1959 and signed association agreements with the EEC in the early 1960s. Although Greece became a member of the EU in 1981 and Turkey could not, the role that the EU has played in Turkish democratization and the reform processes of the late 1990s and early 2000s is not too different from the Greek case in the previous years. Thus, Greece and Turkey are more comparable than the literature on both countries would lead one to believe. Moreover, studying the two together offers significant inferences on regime change and military interventions, going beyond Greece and Turkey and applicable to other cases.

Defining Regimes and Military Interventions This book looks into two regime types and whether or not they are consolidated. Given this consideration, there are four possible outcomes: consolidated democracy, unconsolidated democracy, consolidated authoritarianism, and unconsolidated authoritarianism. For a regime to qualify as a liberal democracy, it has to fulfill four procedural conditions.20 First, political preferences must be freely formulated through unrestrained associations, information gathering, and communications. These preferences must then be used for the purposes of free and nonviolent competitions to govern. Second, all political offices must be included in this competition. Third, all members of the political community must be allowed to express their political preferences. Finally, no unelected group (e.g., the military, monarchy, judiciary, or bureaucracy) can hold reserve or tutelary powers that can obstruct the policy-making capabilities of the elected officials. In consolidated democracies, all of the four procedural conditions are fulfilled. In addition, as the term consolidated implies, these democracies enjoy behavioral and attitudinal support. Adam Przeworksi refers to this attitudinal dimension when he writes that “democracy is consolidated whenВ .В .В . [its] institutions become the only game in town, when no one can imagine acting outside the democratic institutions.”21 Similarly, Gunther, Diamandouros, and Puhle consider a democracy to be consolidated “when all politically significant groups regard its key political institutions as the only legitimate framework for political contestation.”22 For the cases under study in this book, politically significant groups include the military, political parties, and a sizable portion of the population that may be mobilized. There will Page 8 →always be anti-democratic groups in consolidated democracies, but unless they have the necessary numbers, resources, and connections to upset the regime, they do not constitute a danger to the democratic system.23

The attitudinal dimension of a consolidated democracy is related to the procedural definition of democracy. If attitudinal support is not present, it is likely that procedural requirements will not be fulfilled. For instance, in Greece and Turkey, if a politically significant group reversed its pro-democratic preference because it lost (or feared losing) elections, it was likely to try to exclude the opposition from expressing its preferences and/or to (threaten to) use violence to enforce its own position. This type of democracy is unconsolidated. In unconsolidated democracies, political actors respect democratic rules as long as these rules advance their own interests. Because each political group feels the same way, mutual distrust and suspicion does not allow for all four procedural conditions of democracy to be fulfilled. Most notably, the first procedural condition suffers, and government and/or opposition forces frequently use violence as an instrument to advance their own positions. These types of regimes have been variously called “illiberal,”24 “delegative,”25 or “electoral”26 democracies. In this book, I preferably call regimes that fulfill the procedural requirements only partially and lack attitudinal support “unconsolidated democracies,” because it is not always possible to separate procedural and attitudinal requirements. More often than not, problems in the attitudinal area breed deficiencies in the procedural area. In the Greek case following the 2009 economic crisis, I use the term deconsolidation to refer to changing attitudes toward democracy among significant numbers of citizens after decades of consolidation, without yet any clear and long term consequences in the procedural area. Such deconsolidation has occurred in Greece under circumstances where the military had no political powers. In most cases analyzed in this book, however, unconsolidated democracies had dominant militaries and the armed forces were likely to hold political prerogatives or autonomy, which refer to reserve domains and/or tutelary powers.27 Military reserve domains “remove specific areas of government authority and substantive policy making from the purview of elected officials” and are enforced on civilians by the military. Tutelary powers grant the authority to “exercise broad oversight of the government and its policy decisions,” usually via military controls and/or via the military’s self-defined role as the guarantor of the constitution.28 In addition to political prerogatives, coups d’état or threats of military intervention may be frequent in unconsolidated democracies.29 Naturally, not all unconsolidated democracies have the possibility of coups; but in Greece and Turkey, one of the most critical attributes of an unconsolidatedPage 9 → democracy was the likelihood of a coup. Although I analyze contemporary regimes in Greece and Turkey, this book is mostly dedicated to theorizing about such short-lived military interventions within unconsolidated democracies. I define coups as “short-lived military interventions” when officers do not consider giving the power entirely to a civilian group during the coup30 and, after the interim, establish a new form of democracy and end their direct rule. If a group of military insurgents capture the government and initiate the changes that it envisioned before the intervention, especially repressing the opposition forces and preventing their return to governmental power in the short run, the coup is successful. In unsuccessfully attempted coups, insurgents fail to take over the government and usually face prosecution and serious penalties for organizing the mutiny. Coups that fall in between these two clear-cut cases of success and failure are fragile coups. For reasons that will be analyzed in detail in the following chapters, most coups are fragile. The putschists succeed in taking over the government but fail to achieve some of their initial aims, leading them to barely hold on to power and resulting in transition either by force, through a countercoup, or under precarious circumstances. One indicator of such fragility is the return to governmental power the elites that were previously considered threatening by the military. If these dangerous elites win substantial votes in the elections immediately following the transition and take part in the government that follows, this indicates that the coup was fragile and could not achieve one of its main goals. Authoritarian regimes are systems where political pluralism, diversity, and freedoms are severely restricted and where the rulers are not regularly held accountable by the citizens.31 Authoritarian regimes might hold elections, but these are not regular, free, or fair. For instance, only preapproved candidates are allowed to run in the elections. Authoritarian regimes are distinguished from their totalitarian counterparts by the fact that they allow freedoms of expression and association to at least one (loyal) societal group, lack a leading and imposing ideology, come to power without a bottom-up movement, and choose rarely, if ever, to mobilize their subjects for the causes of the regime.32 In personalist regimes, “access to political office and control over policy” depend on the decisions of a single ruler. In single-party authoritarian regimes, such aspects of access and control

are decided by one party. In military authoritarian regimes, the leader or the small group who exercises power comes from the military as an institution.33 Despite the differences between single-party, personalist, or military authoritarian regimes, all such coercive episodes in countries where the military Page 10 →is a significant actor are backed by the armed forces. In the cases of single-party and personalist regimes, the military does not rule directly, but repression is exercised mostly by the armed forces. The armed forces interfere with policy making, either by taking an active part in decisions or by constraining civilians in their choices. The civilian leaders of the regime are obliged to take the military’s preferences and capabilities into constant consideration. The role of the armed forces in authoritarian regimes resembles short-lived coups. In both instances, they are responsible for maintaining “order”—that is, repressing the opposition. Therefore, it is possible to refer to both coups and authoritarian regimes as military interventions. Thus, a putsch that topples the rulers of a country from power at a specific moment can turn into either a short-lived coup or an authoritarian regime. Of course, short-lived coups d’état are categorically distinct from authoritarian regimes, because they are not regimes as such. Short-lived military interventions do not set up rules and procedures for the purpose of establishing authoritarian regimes. On the contrary, short-lived coups attempt to create new democratic regimes—albeit usually unconsolidated ones. When they are withdrawing, elections are held, in which several parties of nonmilitary origin can also run. Even though the term consolidation usually refers to democracies, it is possible to define consolidated authoritarian regimes similarly.34 An authoritarian regime is consolidated when its institutions are perceived as “the only game in town,” when no one can imagine acting outside of its institutions, and when all politically significant groups regard its key political institutions as the only framework for policy making. We cannot expect an authoritarian regime to gather attitudinal support or legitimacy among its population, since such regimes repress political positions that are not voiced by loyal groups. However, in a consolidated authoritarian regime, we at least expect to see behavioral compliance and acceptance of the regime among the population—usually, but not always, out of fear.35 There are two indicators of a consolidated authoritarian regime. First, all significant political elites abide by its rules and institutions. If significant political elites have pro-democratic regime preferences and voice these preferences in a way that challenges the rules and institutions of the regime, the authoritarian regime is unconsolidated. Significant challenges to the regime can be initiated by an influential group of politicians, when, for instance, they establish a rival political party, attempt to mobilize the population or military groups against the power holders, and/or engage in active resistance in the country or abroad. A second indicator of a consolidated authoritarian regime is the absence of a politically significant rebellion against the ruling elite.36 Revolts or contentiousPage 11 → politics occur when “people who lack regular access to institutions” make “unaccepted claims” and “behave in ways that fundamentally challenge others and authorities.”37 A social movement is a continuous contentious action that poses a challenge to the rulers through repeated demonstrations.38 Revolts or contentious politics (rather than social movements) are enough to indicate that an authoritarian regime is unconsolidated, because they show that a significant portion of the population imagines acting outside of the regime and does not regard its institutions as the only political framework. In other words, overt opposition to the regime does not have to be repeated or continuous. The ideology of the revolt—whether it is leftist, nationalist, religious, or pro-democratic—is not crucial for consolidation either. Any significant contentious collective action against the power holders in an authoritarian regime would indicate that the policies and institutions of the rulers are not accepted, despite considerable repression exercised by the same power holders. There might be revolts in consolidated authoritarian regimes; however, they are rare and, when they occur, are repressed without giving rise to any substantial changes in politics. In unconsolidated authoritarian regimes, rebellions have significant effects: they encourage the rulers to change their policies in important ways, either by starting a liberalization program or by attempting to make the regime more coercive. Given all these definitions, table 1.2 shows different regimes that Greece and Turkey have experienced from the interwar period until the end of 2015.39 These outcomes are the primary cases of this book. Table 1.3 shows the

years and success/failure of the major short-lived military interventions that the countries have witnessed during periods of unconsolidated democracy. These are the subcases the book investigates. Together, these two tables represent all the regimes and coups in Greece and Turkey that are examined in this book.

The Main Actors of Regime Change in Greece and Turkey In this book, I identify three sets of actors—the military, businesspeople, and politicians—to explain regime change and military interventions. Referring to these groups as the “elites” or the “upper classes,” I analyze their interactions with each other and with nonelite groups. For the nonelite groups, I use the terms lower classes, masses, electorate, or voters interchangeably, to indicate the common people, including middle-class groups (e.g., artisans or professionals), who form the body politic and do not belong to the upper classes or elite groups. Within the elites, military officers, businesspeople, Page 13 →and politicians have different economic and political interests. Depending on the socioeconomic and political context, these basic preferences lead to splits or temporary alliances between them. The sections below describe each of these elite groups and their interests. I theorize their interactions in the next chapter. Page 12 → Table 1.2. Greek and Turkish Regimes from the Interwar Period until the End of 2015 Country and Regime Consolidation Some Indicators for Coding of Consolidation Period Type Greece, Democracy Unconsolidated Military coups in 1922 and 1925; attempted coups in 1933 and 1935 1922–36 Greece, Authoritarian One minor revolt in Crete, suppressed in a few hours; no other Consolidated 1936–41 (personalist) contentious collective action Greece, Unelected offices (e.g., the military and the monarchy) had political Democracy Unconsolidated 1950–67 prerogatives Minor rebellious activities throughout the duration of the regime Greece, Authoritarian Unconsolidated and uprising in 1973 at the Polytechnic, leading to an internal coup 1967–74 and a more coercive regime Greece, Procedural requirements fulfilled; general attitudinal support among Democracy Consolidated 1981–2010 the politically significant groups Declining attitudinal support for democracy, as anti-democratic Greece, Democracy Deconsolidated parties gather electoral support and as violence increases; but no 2010– other procedural problems yet Turkey, Eleven revolts and two opposition parties in parliament during Authoritarian Unconsolidated 1923–31 different years Turkey, Authoritarian A law in 1938 prevented the escalation of a revolt in the southeast; Consolidated 1931–46 (single-party) no other incidence of contentious politics Turkey, Democracy Unconsolidated Military interventions in 1960, 1971, and 1980 1950–80 Turkey, Military tutelage and reserve domains until the 2000s; 1997 coup; Democracy Unconsolidated 1983–2013 procedural conditions of democracy are not met

The Military What were the basic preferences of the Greek and Turkish military officers,40 individually and as a group, for the periods studied in this book? How did being part of a professional organization shape the basic preferences of the soldiers? Greek and Turkish militaries determined which regime they wanted based on their corporate interests and their expectations from each regime. This means that they did not have predetermined and unchangeable preferences for either authoritarianism41 or democracy.42 On the contrary, their regime preferences changed

according to the social and economic conditions of the times and the degree to which the political context fulfilled the four basic preferences discussed in this section. First, as with every actor, Greek and Turkish soldiers were concerned with their material and nonmaterial wellbeing. They wanted to earn enough income and enjoy prestige and status in society. They were also concerned with the military institution and its budget. They cared about the salary of other officers and about the number of promotions, retirement benefits, housing facilities, and quality and quantity of weapons and other equipment (even uniforms) that the military officers received.43 Table 1.3. Greek and Turkish Short-Lived Coups during Periods of Unconsolidated Democracy Country and Year of the Coup Failure/Success Greece, 1922 Fragile Greece, 1925–26 Fragile Greece, 1933 Failed Greece, 1935 Failed Turkey, 1960–61 Fragile Turkey, 1962 Failed Turkey, 1963 Failed Turkey, 1971 Fragile Turkey, 1980–83 Successful Turkey, 1997 Successful Page 14 →The second basic preference of the soldiers was related to their security. When the military was weakened due to lack of enough budgetary support, the survival of the individual officer, the military as an organization, and even the nation was under serious threat. Military officers, given their vocation, accept the existence of insecurity and the possibility of war and even exaggerate the threat to security. However, this does not lead the professional soldier to dismiss security as part of his basic interest. Quite to the contrary, it leads the officer to value military strength, in terms of budgetary allocation, and to prefer to deter the enemy rather than to engage in combat that the armed forces are likely to lose. In Huntington’s words, military men “oppose the extension of state commitments and the involvement of the state in war except when victory is certain.”44 In addition, the military expects insecurity to arise from the foreign enemies of the state. It does not, however, expect to become targets of internal enemies. Officers value their security as much as other men if they are randomly shot by snipers or fall victim to bombings by terrorists in what could be considered peaceful times (in other words, when there are no external wars). The remaining two basic interests of the Greek and Turkish militaries were related to their corporate professionalism.45 First, officers wanted the military organization to be unified and its internal hierarchy to be intact, which is essential for their organizational survival during times of war. Second, they valued the professional autonomy of their organization from political forces. In other words, they did not want the civilians to interfere with their decisions on military promotions and recruitment, the curricula that would be used for training purposes, and how they would carry out their military responsibilities. Civilian interventions in the affairs of militaries affected the individual officers who were forced to form ties with the right political factions to get promoted or secure their jobs. Loss of professional autonomy also lowered the competence of the armed forces as a group: it distorted the hierarchy of the military and diminished the effectiveness of the organization.46

Businesspeople The second group of elites that played a significant role in Greek and Turkish regimes and military interventions is the business community—those upper-class community members who control industrial production and/or

commerce.47 Although the literature on regime change emphasizes the role of landowners (as well as the business community), the main group of economic elites for both Greece and Turkey consists only of the business community. Both Page 15 →countries lack a dominant class of large landlords that dominate the countryside and agricultural production.48 In Turkey, the Ottoman state’s resistance to local lords created a peasant population with mainly small plantations, except for in the southeast and in limited areas in the coastal regions.49 In Greece, a weak large landowning class was eliminated with successive distributions of land at the beginning of the twentieth century.50 The political power of businesspeople everywhere, not just in Greece and Turkey, is usually limited because they have a collective action problem.51 They are inherently divided, with varying market positions, geographic locations, access to state credits and incentives, size, and activities. This results in their having different interests and preferences with respect to particular policies. Moreover, in late-developing countries, as Alexander Gerschenkron argues, the business community is dependent on the state for at least initial capital accumulation and trade protection.52 In Greece and Turkey, as in much of the semiperiphery, the state organized and controlled a number of businesspeople’s associations, chambers, and unions. This led some businesspeople to refrain from challenging state policies, for fear of government sanctions. Despite these limits to their powers, businesspeople still had resources to influence politics, usually from behind the scenes—privately, through civil society organizations, and through their ties with influential people (e.g., journalists, politicians, and military and civil bureaucrats). In highly threatening circumstances, rather than “reaching the consensus necessary to formulate alternatives,” businesspeople vetoed policies, governments, and even regimes.53 This type of veto had influence over regimes because all “governments, whether authoritarian or democratic, depend on business elites to supply goods for the domestic market, provide jobs, and pay taxes.”54 Like economic elites elsewhere, businesspeople in Greece and Turkey were concerned about their well-being and security for the periods under consideration. More specifically, in terms of well-being, the business elites were concerned about investment opportunities, maximizing profits, and production. In terms of security, they wanted to protect their private property and wealth and to avoid physical violence, torture, and repression. These basic preferences caused businesspeople to generally fear revolutionary change and lower-class activism, as factors that threatened their private property and increased the costs of production. In addition, societal upheaval, even when it was of minor proportions, increased the business elites’ chances of being a target of physical violence and terror. Their basic preferences also caused them to dislike dramatic changes in fiscal, monetary, and foreign exchange policies, because such changes could affect their investment and profit opportunities.55 Page 16 →The classical interpretation of regime change has identified businesspeople with unchangeable regime preferences. For instance, Barrington Moore argued that the bourgeoisie was pro-democratic, while Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens contended that the bourgeoisie was lukewarm toward democracy because of its skepticism toward the extension of the franchise to the lower classes.56 O’Donnell painted a picture that amplified the authoritarian preferences of businesspeople.57 However, in diverse contexts and circumstances, historical evidence shows that economic elites could change their regime preferences. Businesspeople are “contingent democrats”58 or “adaptive actors.”59 They support democratic regimes at some times and authoritarian ones at others. They do not have unchangeable regime preferences but make induced preferences about which regime provides the best political outcomes. As Payne argues, business elites demand political stability, gradual change of economic policy (so that they can adjust), and to be informed and consulted before economic change is initiated. These demands can be met by any regime, and businesspeople can adapt to any situation as long as it guarantees a good business climate, well-being, and security.60

Political Elites The final group that I examine is comprised of Greek and Turkish politicians, which includes heads of state, legislators, ministers, party leaders, and civil bureaucrats (or state elites).61 The category of heads of state includes royal families, (in)directly elected presidents, and military officers who took off their uniforms and

assumed the presidency. The category of legislators and party leaders contains those politicians who favor the status quo in the country and do not profess an ideology that is not approved by the state. For lack of a better term, I use the adjective mainstream to denote these politicians and to exclude those parties that envision radical changes in the socioeconomic and political structure of the country, such as the communists in both countries or the radical Islamists in Turkey. I also include civilian power holders in authoritarian regimes in the category of political elites. For instance, that category includes Metaxas during his personalist regime in Greece and the Republican People’s Party during the authoritarian regime in Turkey. Finally, the category of civil bureaucrats or state elites involves the higher state officials who have direct influence over politics, such as members of the judiciary (who can convict politicians) or technocrats with powers to determine economic policies. Similar to other politicians elsewhere, the basic interests of Greek and Turkish politicians with regard to their well-being were “to attain income, Page 17 →prestige, and power which come from being in office.” Consequently, “their only goal [was] to reap the rewards of holding office per se,” and “they treat[ed] policies purely as means to the attainment of their private end.”62 In democratic periods, legislators wanted to get reelected, and political party leaders wanted to maximize the power of their parties and their own power within the party. In cases with high likelihoods of military intervention, legislators and political party leaders wanted, in addition, to complete their terms in office. Heads of state wanted to maximize security in office. The presidents wanted to complete their terms in office and get reelected, if constitutionally possible. In Greece, the kings were in danger of being ousted from office, so they wanted themselves and the dynasty to remain as the monarchs. Similarly, civil bureaucrats preferred security in office and to advance the material advantages that came from being in office.63 All of the politicians also wanted physical security—minimum chances of being murdered, imprisoned, tortured, or experiencing violence. These basic preferences of the politicians led them to take into account the interests of the electorate. Political parties in democracies make an effort either to reach out to the majority of voters or to establish winning minority coalitions.64 Similarly, nonelected state elites try to guarantee their office holding by forming winning coalitions or by gaining supporters in society. For this reason, interest groups play significant parts in democracies: because the politicians cannot precisely discern what “people want,” they “must rely on intermediaries between [them] and the citizenry to find out,” and “these intermediaries exact a price—they get an influence over policy formation [that is] greater than their numerical proportion of the population.”65 In Greece and Turkey, the business elites were an interest group that could make an impact on the choices of political parties and politicians. The military was the second group whose opinions the politicians attended. During periods of unconsolidated democracy, politicians could guarantee holding office or could be overthrown from power by military force. Naturally, the business elites and the military were not the only interest groups in Greek and Turkish societies. The politicians tried to form winning minority coalitions by using other social groups as well—such as peasants, workers, ethnic or religious minorities, or regional factions. Even though we would expect mainstream politicians to support the military and the business community, they may not necessarily do so. For instance, especially in electoral systems with proportional representation, if the business elites and military are already represented by other political parties, some mainstream politicians may find it more advantageous to represent other groups. Therefore, mainstream politicians do not always go “hand in hand” with the militaryPage 18 → and business elites. This is why they need to be treated as a distinct group rather than subsumed under one of the other categories.66 The basic preferences of the politicians did not result in their favoring one regime over another. One can perhaps argue that except for the kings and civil bureaucrats, legislators and political party leaders unchangeably preferred democracy because this was the only way they could get reelected and hold office. However, this was not the case in at least two scenarios. First, some politicians predicted that they would lose elections or be expelled from power by violent means and therefore had no chance of remaining in office. Under these circumstances, a sympathetic authoritarian regime guaranteed the continuation of office or incumbency without elections. This led the politician to favor an authoritarian regime. Second, when politicians could not control lower-class activism or societal

upheavals, their physical security was threatened by direct attacks. As a result, they favored an authoritarian regime that guaranteed safety. Indeed, in most episodes of authoritarianism in Greece and Turkey, influential politicians collaborated, personally supported, or even established repressive regimes. Thus, like the military and business elites, politicians were “contingent democrats” as well.

Plan of the Book and Synopsis of the Regimes To explain regime outcomes, I employ the theoretical framework of costs of toleration and suppression. Chapter 2 outlines the main theory of this book and situates it in literature using the same concepts in analyzing regime change. The chapter argues that outcomes in Greece and Turkey were determined as a result of, first, threats that armed forces, politicians, and economic elites perceived from each other and from the lower classes; and second, of the power of these elites relative to the opposition, as a consequence of coalitions that they built to defend their interests. The chapters following the theoretical one are separated into two countries and different periods. Chapters 3 and 4 analyze the periods until the last overt coups: the 1967–74 junta in Greece and the 1980 intervention in Turkey. Chapters 5 and 6 look into the period after the last overt coups, until December 2015. In the empirical chapters, each regime or coup is analyzed in a separate section. In each section, the first paragraphs explain the coding of the regime (whether it is democracy/authoritarianism and consolidated/unconsolidated). The analyses of recent Greek and Turkish regimes diverge from this style of presentation to make it easier for the reader to follow the cases that are not directly deduced from the theory. Page 19 →Chapter 3 provides an analysis of the reasons behind four different regimes that Greece witnessed and the causes of two fragile and two failed coups during the years of 1922–36. For the periods when unconsolidated democracies in Greece arose, it argues that the lower classes were tranquil or already repressed but that there was considerable conflict among the political parties. The chapter also discusses two periods when elite groups’ interests were threatened by the lower classes, leading to two authoritarian episodes. While the 1936 Metaxas regime was supported by an elite coalition (it was consolidated), the colonels’ regime of 1967 could not garner support from the majority of the business elites and politicians and from some fractions of the armed forces (it was unconsolidated). Chapter 4 initially discusses the formation of the Turkish Republic out of the ruins of the Ottoman Empire and the dominance of the military and state elites in the subsequent years as a result of this process. Perceiving a threat from the lower classes still loyal to religious leaders, these secular elites established an authoritarian regime. This regime consolidated in the 1930s, when the opposition voices among the elite and military, as well as in the predominantly Kurdish regions of the southeast, were successfully repressed. The single-party authoritarian regime came to an end in 1946 due to elite conflict, and the opposition party won the elections in 1950. However, Turkish democracy was characterized by its unconsolidated nature, where elite conflict among political parties was seen as the primary cause of instability and increasing currents of leftist and religious movements. Turkey experienced two fragile coups in 1960 and 1971, which were supported by a portion of elite groups and divided militaries. The successful coup of 1980, however, garnered the support of the majority of the politicians, businesspeople, and military officers. Chapter 5 argues that democracy in Greece consolidated when the elites perceived no threats from each other and from the lower classes in the 1980s. The armed forces were brought under civilian control through the unification of elites around this goal. However, in these years, the lower classes were incorporated into the system by patronclient relations. The 2009 fiscal crisis disrupted the Greek economy and, eventually, its political party system and democracy. With the economic crunch, the two parties that established the patronage network had to retract the special privileges they had granted to their voters. The party system fragmented, and radical parties increased their share of the vote. The presence of a totalitarian far-right party in parliament and increasing use and legitimization of violence in society demonstrate that democracy has deconsolidated in Greece. Chapter 6 examines how the “post-modern military intervention” of Page 20 →1997 in Turkey was

supported by mainstream political and economic groups. Although what was believed to be radical Islam was repressed with the coup, the financial debacle in 2001 led to the formation of a single-party government under the moderate Islamists. The Justice and Development Party (JDP) renewed its mandate in the following elections, partially thanks to the economic stability that accompanied its rule. Although the military’s powers and dominance over politics diminished under the JDP government, elite conflict continues with increasing polarization, coupled with potential cycles of lower-class activism, leading to a shift toward authoritarianism since 2013. The victories of the JDP brought about new attitudinal and procedural challenges to democracy, showing that the long-term political consequences of the 2001 economic crisis in Turkey were as complicated as those of the 2009 crisis in Greece, although different in nature. Chapter 7 applies the theory advanced in chapter 2 to the Thai military interventions of 2006 and 2014 and to developments in Egypt following the 2011 uprising. The Thai coup in 2006 and the Egyptian military intervention against Mubarak in 2011 were against political elites perceived as threats by the armed forces. In both cases, the militaries envisioned creating unconsolidated democracies in the aftermath of the intervention. It was believed that once threatening elites were out of the way, a new and more favorable democracy could be established, with the aid of allies, who would also support the military’s increasing political powers. Yet, in both countries, following the transitions to democracy, lower-class activism started (in Thailand) or returned (in Egypt). As the victors of elections mobilized the population against the military’s interests and could not control street violence, the armed forces intervened once again, this time to establish authoritarian regimes that would repress society for a longer period of time. In both countries, the consolidation of these regimes will depend on their ability to maintain military unity and to hold together the elite coalition that initially supported them. Chapter 8 summarizes the key findings of the book, according to the three stages of a hypothetical military intervention—the periods before, during, and after. While going over the theory of the book from a presumptively more chronological perspective, the first sections of the conclusion also provide pivotal points in the Turkish and Greek political histories, as well as in the Thai and Egyptian military interventions. In the final section, I briefly discuss democracy’s future prospects in Greece and Turkey.

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2. A Theory of Regime Change and Military Interventions How can we explain democratic and authoritarian regimes, their consolidation and short-lived coups in Greece and Turkey from the interwar period until when the militaries lost their powers? In this chapter, I offer a framework, based on the costs of toleration and suppression, to explain regime change. I then adapt and develop this framework to theorize regimes, their consolidation, and military interventions. After outlining the theory, I detail the components and determinants of the costs of toleration and suppression. The last sections of this chapter are organized around three questions that illuminate the theory: What did the Greek and Turkish elites consider as threats? How did the costs of toleration translate into regime preferences? How did the costs of suppression translate into regime consolidation?

Drawing a Framework One of the most useful frameworks for the emergence of democratic or authoritarian regimes was offered by Robert Dahl in 1971. In Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition, Dahl argued that the chances for the emergence of democracy (or, in his words, polyarchy) depended on two costs: the costs of tolerating and the costs of suppressing an opposition. When it is costly for a government to tolerate opposition, it will deny its opponent the right to participate in policy making. But governments also take into account their power to suppress an opposition, because even when the costs of tolerating an opposition are high, the costs of suppressing it might be higher. The basic premise is that whereas lower costs of toleration give greater security to the government, greater costs of suppression provide greater security to the opposition. “Hence,” Dahl concludes, “conditions that provide a high degree of Page 22 →mutual security for government and oppositions would tend to generate and to preserve wider opportunities for oppositions to contest the conduct of the government.”1 As a result, when the costs of suppression are higher than the costs of toleration, the likelihood of the emergence of democracy increases. Conversely, when the costs of toleration are higher than the costs of suppression, the likelihood increases for the emergence of authoritarianism (or, in Dahl’s words, hegemony). Figure 2.1 illustrates Dahl’s argument.2 Fig. 2.1. Robert Dahl’s figure of costs of toleration and suppression Many later scholars adopted Dahl’s framework to examine the causes of regime change in various countries.3 Among them, one of the most noteworthy efforts has been made by Guillermo O’Donnell, who wrote, two years after Polyarchy, that regime change between oligarchic, populist, and bureaucratic authoritarian regimes in South America were the result of industrial modernization, which, at each stage, allowed different political coalitions to coalesce under various political regimes. Challenging modernization theorists’ optimistic outlook that economic development would strengthen democracy,4 O’Donnell showed that history does not move in a linear fashion: some cases of economic development might very well be the cause of authoritarianism rather than democracy. Figure 2.2 demonstrates O’Donnell’s Page 23 →adoption of Dahl’s diagram to explain regime change in South America over time.5 Increasing modernization led to social differentiation or political pluralization. However, this differentiation was not matched by social integration, which led to mass praetorianism or large-scale social movements. The activation of the popular classes increased the costs of excluding them from politics. At the same time, other social sectors perceived praetorianism in the urban centers as threatening. Thus, the costs of toleration increased more than the costs of suppression (at time 3 in fig. 2.2). The propertied classes were willing to eliminate what they perceived as a radical threat by excluding the popular classes from politics. As a result, they allied with the military and established bureaucratic-authoritarian systems.6 Fig. 2.2. Guillermo O’Donnell’s figure of costs of toleration and suppression Almost twenty years after O’Donnell’s analysis of the rise of bureaucratic-authoritarian regimes in South America, a different interpretation of Dahl’s argument was provided by one of the most influential works on regime change, written by Dietrich Rueschemeyer, Evelyne Huber Stephens, and John Stephens. In Capitalist

Development and Democracy, the authors argued that power balances among various classes, the state, and civil society determined regime types.7 They agreed with the findings of modernization theorists that Page 24 →capitalism led to democracy, but they disagreed on the causal mechanisms affecting such a change. The authors followed the historical sociology approach, most notably exemplified by such scholars as Moore8 and Luebbert,9 and argued that regime change was determined by alterations in the balance of power between classes and by the alliances they made. Capitalism was associated with democracy because it undermined the power of antidemocratic landowners and strengthened the pro-democratic working classes.10 Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens explained regime outcomes mostly in terms of variations in the costs of suppression. Even though the costs of toleration and perceptions of threat were crucial, they were more or less constant across time.11 Capitalist development did not diminish the threat that subordinate classes posed; it increased their strength by creating a working class with the capacity of self-organization. As long as dominant classes could keep the costs of suppression low (e.g., by allying with the military), likelihood of the emergence of a fully democratic system was low. If the working class increased its own strength via alliances with rural or middle classes, however, they were able to bring about the introduction of democracy. Contrary to Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens, Gerard Alexander, who examined democratic consolidation in Western Europe in his 2002 book The Sources of Democratic Consolidation, argued that “there was no important shift in left/right balances of power from the interwar periodВ .В .В . to the post-1945 period.” According to Alexander, “conservatives became reliable democrats because of sharp reductions inВ .В .В . the costs of toleration: they gradually came to associate democracy with low risks to their core interests and values.”12 Alexander’s case studies show that for the periods that he studies, the left has always been the weaker societal force. Even in cases where the right was weak, the rightist sectors managed, if they wanted, to gather supporters, change policies, and increase their power. Since the costs of suppression were always at relatively low levels, the perception of threat that the left posed to the right was the critical factor that changed over the decades.13 Settling the debate of whether costs of toleration or costs suppression were more important historically, Carles Boix demonstrated in his 2003 book that both factors needed to be taken into account. Surveying a diverse range of democratization cases since the mid-1800s and combining statistical evidence with a game-theoretic approach, Boix argued that decreases in inequality, increases in capital mobility, and difficulties of taxing wealth facilitated the creation of stable democracies, because the costs of toleration decreased. Political mobilization of the poor changed the balance of power and led to higher costs of suppression, which encouraged democratization if the levels of costs of toleration were already moderate. In a context where economicPage 25 → inequality prevailed, where wealth was mostly immobile (e.g., tied to land), and where there was uncertainty about the balance of power, the end result was political violence, either in the form of civil war or revolution.14 In their 2006 volume, Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson argued—in similar fashion to Boix and Rushemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens—that balances of power between the elites and citizens determine democratization. To put it in Dahl’s terms, Acemoglu and Robinson claimed that an increase in the costs of suppression (occurring as a result of the revolutionary demands of the poor) changes elite calculations and paves the way for democratization, unless society is highly unequal and democracy is too costly for the elites to tolerate. If the elites concede to democracy at first, levels of wealth redistribution decide whether or not the elite will continue with democracy or choose repression via staging coups. Thus, democratic consolidation is determined by the levels of costs of toleration and suppression.15 In the words of Acemoglu and Robinson, “once created, democracy will consolidate if it is not too redistributive and if coups are sufficiently costly. However, when inequality is very high, the costs of a coup may be sufficiently low that it is attractive.”16 Costs of toleration and suppression can be determined by factors in addition to inequality, such as composition of wealth in society (whether it is based on land or capital), the size of the middle class, or political institutions. From the perspective of analyzing Greek and Turkish regimes, there are two strengths of the books written by Boix and by Acemoglu and Robinson. First, these scholars show that different regime outcomes are possible by way of various levels that the two costs take. Boix saw the possibility of costs of toleration and suppression being

high at the same time and thereby explained not just democracies and authoritarian regimes but also left-wing dictatorships. Acemoglu and Robinson not only looked at persistent authoritarian regimes and democracies but explained why frequent transitions back and forth from democracy occur in some countries. Second, these books bring the main findings of modernization theory and historical sociology together with rational choice approaches, while utilizing the framework of the costs of toleration and suppression. Both works employ game theory yet situate the rational actors calculating which regime would produce the best outcomes for their interests into a context where class composition and broad socioeconomic changes, such as the development of capitalism, matter. Hence, they clearly demonstrate that “there is no dichotomy at all between structural and strategic approaches—they are one and the same.”17 As this array of scholarly works shows, use of the framework of costs of toleration and suppression for analyzing regime change has been common. Page 26 →The question remains, however, what, according to these authors, are the underlying mechanisms that lead to alterations in these costs? As explained above, most of the literature following this tradition, including Dahl’s,18 usually focuses on socioeconomic levels of development, distribution of resources among various classes due to industrialization, and consequent changes in the conflictual relations of the lower and upper classes or the citizens and elites (sometimes organized into leftist and rightist parties). Yet this type of explanation provides limited answers for one of the questions of this book—namely, why the armed forces intervene in politics. When socioeconomic development is regarded as the main underlying cause, a particular choice is made in terms of the main actors. They are mostly various classes (or political parties representing them), and the military is assigned only a secondary role. O’Donnell examined the unification of the Argentinean military in detail,19 for instance, but contended, in the final analysis, that “variations in organization at the military level” could only be “intervening variables [that] mediate[d] the effects of societal-level variables.”20 Similarly, according to Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens, dominant classes sometimes allied with the military and established authoritarian regimes to suppress lower classes, but the work of those authors underplayed the question of why the military would want to repress the rising lower classes.21 Boix assumed that the military was an instrument that intervened only “to sustain the property rights of capitalists.”22 Finally, Acemoglu and Robinson presumed that the “military represents the interests of the elites more than those of the citizens.”23 Despite their analyses of coups, especially in the Latin American context, those authors admitted that they could not incorporate into their model an autonomous and relatively powerful military.24 As Dahl himself acknowledges, his arguments were not sufficient to explain why militaries intervened in politics in some countries and obeyed civilians in others.25 Dahl’s followers have also been silent on this matter. As explained in the first chapter of the present study, the literature on civil-military relations has identified different patterns of military interventions in different levels of socioeconomic development; however, these classifications have remained descriptive and not explanatory. Moreover, there have only been limited attempts to explain different categories of military intervention, such as short-lived coups and longer-term authoritarian regimes, with Dahl’s costs.26 Adopting the framework of costs of toleration and suppression in combination with a closer look at the military as an independent actor reveals that the armed forces intervene in politics not always due to threats they perceive Page 27 →from the lower classes but also when they believe that the policies of the elites are contrary to the military’s institutional interests. At times, the interests of the military and threats that the military personnel perceive reflect socioeconomic trends and coincide with the regime preferences of the upper classes. At other times, perceptions of threat result from unconnected events, such as costly external wars, fear of losing autonomy, and civilians interfering in military affairs. If the aim of the intervention is not related to socioeconomic variables, the coup is short-lived and does not implant an entirely new political system. Shifting the focus to military interests also exposes an important dynamic in the consolidation of regimes. As had been highlighted by the democratic consolidation literature, relations among the elites, not only the upper or lower classes, lead to different regime outcomes. The main actors are not always classes pitted against one another, the rich versus the poor, the elites versus the masses, or leftists versus rightist parties. Both elite conflict between and

among republicans and monarchists before the mobilization of lower classes and conflict between and among political, business, and military elites after the mobilization of the masses result in unconsolidated democratic and unconsolidated authoritarian regimes. Conversely, unified elites, when faced with active lower classes, can repress more easily and consolidate authoritarianism. Thus, the military’s relations with the other elites are crucial elements in the consolidation of various regimes. Keeping in mind this independent role of the military, the following pages provide an alternative theory of regime change and military interventions, based on Dahl’s framework.

Assumptions about the Costs of Toleration and Suppression In simple terms, Robert Dahl’s costs of toleration refer to threat levels: how much threat do elites (military, political, and business) perceive against their interests from an opposing group? If the level of threat is high, the costs of toleration will be high. If the level of threat is low, the costs of toleration will be low. To explain changes in Greek and Turkish regime types, I make two assumptions about the costs of toleration. First, I assume that when elites are in conflict, the costs of toleration will be moderate. In other words, when there is elite conflict between and/or among the military, politicians, and economic elites, the perception of threat is moderate. Second, I assume that when elites are in conflict with nonelite groups, they perceive high levels of threat. In other words, when the conflict is between the elites and the lower classes, the costs of toleration are high. Fig. 2.3. Assumptions about the costs of toleration Page 28 →Conflict intensity may range from low to high and is different from, though related to, the level of threat. High-intensity conflict challenges “an elite’s autonomous identity (its вЂeliteness’).”27 Low-intensity conflict does not indicate to elites that they are likely to lose their status as an elite group. When conflict is of low intensity, it is nonthreatening, but when conflict is intense, threat assessments depend on the source of the danger. When large numbers of people who do not support the ruling elites or regard them as politically legitimate vote for radical parties that may change the socioeconomic and political system, they increase the costs of toleration. Simultaneously, if significant lower-class groups engage in contentious politics by organizing demonstrations, strikes, or terrorist attacks throughout the country for the purposes of changing the country’s political and socioeconomic structure, they are perceived as constituting a high level of threat. However, when a group of elites challenges the survival of another group of elites and does not (or cannot) socially mobilize the population, they are perceived as representing a moderate level of threat. Figure 2.3 summarizes the different levels of costs of toleration according to the sources of threat. The second factor that I use to explain regimes is the costs of suppression. Costs of suppression refer to the resources of elites vis-Г -vis the opposition Page 29 →(whether it is other elites or the electorate). There is an inverse relationship between the costs of suppression and resources. If the elites have more resources, the costs of suppression will be low. If the resources elites have are limited, the costs of suppression will be high. According to Dahl, costs of suppression are determined by two different types of resources: violent means of coercion (typically provided by military and police forces) and socioeconomic sanctions (e.g., control over economic activities, means of communication, education, political socialization, etc.).28 The more resources the elites have vis-Г -vis the opposition, the more powerful they are, and the easier it is for them to suppress the opposition. I assume that the relative distribution of resources between the opposition and elites is determined by three factors. First, various paths of socioeconomic and political development throughout the country’s history determine how much power conflicting groups will have relative to each other. Coalitions that form among the elites are the second determining factor. All things being equal, coalitions between the military, business elites, and politicians decrease the costs of suppression. Third, repressing the opposition is easier for a unified military than for a disunited one. Hence, when the military is unified, the costs of suppression are low. Depending on these three determinants, costs of suppression take on low, moderate, or high values. Figure 2.4 illustrates the levels of the costs of suppression, and figure 2.5 shows how we can bring together the costs of toleration and suppression with low, moderate, and high levels.

Mapping the Greek and Turkish Regimes and Coups Given the definitions and assumptions stated above, I make four main arguments to explain regime types in Greece and Turkey from the interwar period until the early 2000s. First, a combination of low costs of toleration and high costs of suppression produced consolidated democracies. Figure 2.6 depicts this combination. When there were no threats to the interests of the elites and when conflict in the polity was only over policy, the costs of toleration were low. If an elite group in this context attempted to suppress the opposition that did not favor its policies, it was not able to do so, because it lacked sufficient resources vis-Г -vis the opposition. Second, a combination of moderate costs of toleration and low, moderate, or high costs of suppression produced unconsolidated democracies with possible short-term military interventions. When elites threatened each other, costs of toleration were moderate. In this case, elites might have attemptedPage 31 → to initiate coups against each other. If the elite group that attempted the coup had more power than the opposition, garnered support from other elite groups, and kept the military unified, the coup was successful. If the insurgents who attempted the coup did not have enough power, lacked support among the majority of other elites, and could not command the entire military, their intervention failed. If the insurgents were powerful but were not supported by the other elites, they might have captured the government; however, their rule and command of the military was fragile. Figure 2.7 demonstrates these combinations. Page 30 → Fig. 2.4. Assumptions about the costs of suppression Fig. 2.5. Bringing together the costs of toleration and suppression Fig. 2.6. Consolidated democracy Third, a combination of high costs of toleration and low costs of suppression would produce consolidated authoritarian regimes, as depicted in figure 2.8. If an elite group perceived the majority of the electorate’s political preferences as intolerable and the lower classes as radical, the costs of toleration were high. If the elites formed a coalition and if the lower classes were relatively weaker than the elites, the costs of suppression were low. In such a context, the lower classes remained disorganized (or were forced to demobilize), no significant contentious collective action against the power holders emerged, and no significant elite group voiced its prodemocratic regime preferences. Fourth, a combination of high costs of toleration and moderate costs of Page 32 →suppression produced unconsolidated authoritarian regimes, as depicted in figure 2.9. If a segment of the elite believed that the lower classes were threatening the socioeconomic and political status quo, the costs of toleration were high. If the elites were not united and if there were dissidents within the military, the costs of suppression increased. Because the rulers continued to be more powerful than society, however, the costs of suppression were moderate. In these authoritarian regimes, significant groups had the opportunity to show their discontent, and they revolted against the power holders. At the same time, significant elite groups voiced their pro-democratic regime preferences. Fig. 2.7. Coups d’état in unconsolidated democracies Figure 2.10 depicts the regimes (cases) and coups (subcases) I analyze in this book.29 The following chapters examine each of these outcomes and contemporary crises that Greek and Turkish democracies face. The remainder of this chapter focuses on the arguments and assumptions advanced in this section.

Components of the Costs of Toleration The costs of toleration are defined simply as threats that elites perceive against their basic interests. In chapter 1, I identified the Greek and Turkish Page 33 →elites and their preferences. The question now becomes, what kinds of dangers did the militaries and business and political elites perceive under various socioeconomic and political conditions? Fig. 2.8. Consolidated authoritarianism

What Did the Militaries Consider as Threats?

If the autonomy, well-being, and/or security of the Greek and Turkish militaries were challenged, they felt threatened and intervened in politics.30 The militaries perceived threats from two groups: political elites and nonelites. In Greece and Turkey, the militaries felt themselves in danger if their autonomy was challenged, if their well-being was undermined by cuts in budgetary support, or if their security was in question as unnecessary or prolonged wars were fought. Some of these threats were introduced by the mainstream politicians. In addition, politicians’ performance failures sometimes indirectly caused the military to intervene. Especially if the armed forces were used as a police force to put down violence, officers preferred to autonomously intervene themselves, rather than to be blamed for the anarchy along with civilians or to take orders from politicians.31 The literature on civil-military relations and scholars writing on militaries Page 35 →elsewhere have identified two reasons why the lower classes sometimes threaten the military. According to the first argument, the military is a middle-class group. As a result, it is biased toward the interests of the middle classes in general. In cases where there is a strong agricultural upper class, an insignificant lower class, and a middle class trying to extend its influence, the military overthrows the traditional oligarchy and helps the middle classes grow. In cases where the upper classes are weak and allied with the powerful middle classes, the military turns against the lower classes and intervenes to stop their advance.32 Page 34 → Fig. 2.9. Unconsolidated authoritarianism Fig. 2.10. Greek and Turkish cases on the new figure This argument starts with the assumption that the military is a middle-class group. It is true that most militaries in the developing world are made up of middle-class recruits. While this was also the case for Greece and Turkey, it is difficult to discern how much class identity soldiers carry from their childhood into their adult lives. Because officers are recruited at a young age and go through substantial training afterward, soldiers in professional armed forces identify themselves as part of the military, not the middle class. As a result, the military has distinct corporate interests that cannot be subsumed under class interests. Moreover, in this argument, the reasons for the intervention are mistaken for the results of the intervention. Military interventions might have advanced the interests of the middle classes, but this does not suggest that the military intervened for this particular reason. To be valid, this argument must demonstrate that the military consciously wanted to help the middle classes; otherwise, it cannot explain military interventions.33 Another, more valid explanation for why militaries sometimes viewed the lower classes as a threat is that they threatened their corporate interests in four different respects. First, lower-class insistence on a change in the socioeconomic structure of the country was taken as a signal of a demand for economic redistribution. The implementation of welfare programs, land reform, or modernization programs sometimes meant that the funds of the state would be used elsewhere, endangering the military’s budgetary support. Second, if the majority of the electorate did not support the ruling elites, they signaled redistribution of political power. Especially during periods when the military held important reserve domains and tutelary powers, demands to expel the elites challenged the position and influence of the armed forces in the policy-making process. Third, lower classes sometimes used violent means, such as strikes and demonstrations, to demand change. At times, they even employed direct violence against military officers—especially if officers were viewed as part of the ruling oligarchy. This endangered the security of the officers. Finally, the militaries are usually supportive of the status quo:34 Page 36 →“The army by the very nature of things depends for its existence, honor, emoluments, and privileges upon the order in which it takes form; and in self-defense, if nothing more, it is conservative in relation to the order in which it thrives.”35 The majority of military members in Greece and Turkey during most of the periods under consideration here were mainstream in orientation and supportive of the status quo.36 There have been exceptions to this generalization, however, when the militaries were split and when some segments, mostly consisting of lower ranks, harbored leftist ideologies, such as in Turkey in the 1960s and 1970s.

What Did Business and Political Elites Consider as Threats? As is well-known, most business elites vote for rightist parties. This was the case in Greece and Turkey, as the analyses of the case studies in the following chapters will show. As part of the right-wing coalition, the economic elites identified leftist movements as a possible cause of threat. In particular, the combination of the radical left with lower-class activism, strikes, demonstrations, and/or violence signaled risks to the well-being and security of

the business elites. Lower-class activism not only jeopardized the continuation of production and investment but also endangered physical safety and the security of private property. Property-owning upper classes were sometimes also threatened by political elites, even those that represented the right-wing. Business elites demand stability, want to be consulted in economic matters, and dislike rapid change in economic policies unless they are pushing for those policy outcomes. Politicians not able to govern efficiently and legitimately were prone to create economic and political crises and thereby threaten economic interests. Politicians who did not act predictably and failed to inform or consult the business elites before making decisions did not allow those elites to adapt to change. For all these reasons, businesspeople sometimes felt threatened by politicians, even when these politicians represented the right and did not necessarily mobilize the lower classes.37 Political elites were sometimes threatened by the lower classes. If the lower classes were mobilized by radical parties and/or became impossible to control, politicians feared that they could be overthrown violently. Although some political elites in Greece and Turkey derived their power from economic dominance, some obtained their status purely by holding office. The possibility of not being reelected indicated the likelihood of losing the status of being an elite group. As a result, when coupled with contentious action Page 37 →among the lower classes, an electorate voting for a party that wanted to change the status quo raised the costs of toleration for the political elites. It was also not uncommon for political elites to be threatened by each other and for business groups to view other economic elites as a serious threat. Business elites naturally compete with each other for economic expansion, and there is always a degree of conflict among them. In democracies, it is expected that political parties will also compete. Greek and Turkish businesspeople and party members did not necessarily view such market and electoral competition as a threat if they thought that the rules of the game were respected and that they had a chance to survive in the future. However, if businesspeople believed that they were driven out of the competition because of forces outside of the market (e.g., rival businesspeople earning favors from politicians), they felt moderately threatened. Similarly, if politicians perceived that their chance to win elections in the future was ruined because another group of politicians had used subversive means, they became sufficiently intimidated. Subversive means employed by political parties included changing the electoral system so that it would repeatedly benefit one’s own political camp, restricting freedom of speech, organization and meetings of rival politicians, and using the military to hold office.

How Did the Costs of Toleration Translate into Regime Preferences? When deciding which regime they wanted, Greek and Turkish elites considered their basic preferences and their expectations from each regime. Following Gerard Alexander’s model, I assume that when elite groups wanted to assess whether authoritarianism or democracy would be better, they asked two questions: “Democracy with whom?” and “Authoritarianism under whom?” The reason for these divergent questions is that democracy and authoritarianism have different characteristics: the former gives power to the electorate and political parties, while the latter gives power to a comparatively small group of rulers. Therefore, elites wanted to know with whom they would share their power in democracy and which group would rule in authoritarianism. Elites responded to these questions based on the expected political outcomes of each regime. They chose the regime that was expected to produce the best set of political outcomes for their basic interests. Political outcomes included state policies (e.g., economic, social, foreign, and repressive) and the possibility of violence from fellow citizens.38 Page 38 →The likelihood of international sanctions was also an element that determined expectations of political outcomes. This factor, however, became relevant only after the 1970s in Greece and the 1990s in Turkey, when the EU offered credible economic and social incentives for these accession countries. Especially for some of the businessmen, who gained much from the continuation of close ties with the EU, international sanctions became an important part of cost-benefit analysis. However, before credible EU accession paths, there were no international sanctions against military interventions. During the Cold War years, the international community and Western allies preferred democracy if there were no threats to the allied country’s socioeconomic order. In other

words, it was usual for the assessment of the Western powers to match the beliefs of the elites and for the latter not to expect negative international outcomes for authoritarianism. If the answer to the question “Democracy with whom?” was a threatening electorate, elites were more likely to prefer an authoritarian regime. If the electorate was expected to oust the mainstream elites from power via elections, these elites predicted that their well-being would be threatened under democracy (even though they might still be secure). The existence of radical movements, demonstrations, strikes, and rallies that advocated political and socioeconomic change led elites to think that democracy with an active and challenging lower class would carry with it redistribution of properties and civil violence. In most situations, both of these threats materialized at the same time: a significant portion of the electorate voted for radical parties, and the same fraction or various different ones engaged in radical contentious politics. When faced with these threats together, elites preferred an authoritarian regime. Contrarily, if the answer to the question “Democracy with whom?” was only the threatening elites, actors were more likely to prefer an unconsolidated democracy in which they kept open the option of retaliation via the use of military coups. Even though elite conflict was sometimes very intense, the lower classes still posed a higher level of threat than elites and encouraged a stronger reaction. This is a matter of simple demographics: The electorate forms a larger group than elites and, therefore, is costlier to tolerate. Threatening mainstream elites in Greece and Turkey did enjoy support from the voters; otherwise, they would not have been threatening in the first place. The support they garnered, however, was different from that of political parties that mobilized the lower classes for the purposes of overthrowing the existing order, such as the communists.39 For instance, Turkey’s Democratic Party (which became the Justice Party after the 1960 coup) and Justice and Development Party (after 2002) and Greece’s Liberal Party and People’s Page 39 →Party (in the 1920s) and the Panhellenic Socialist Movement (after the 1980s) built cross-class coalitions and incorporated the lower classes into politics. But this incorporation did not result in the radicalization or social mobilization of the peasants and workers. Quite to the contrary, in exchange for the private and public goods these parties provided, the lower classes remained organizationally weak and politically passive.40 In certain episodes in Greece and Turkey, if people had been given the right to vote in free and fair elections, they would have been able to obtain their demands and change the status quo. However, democracy was not too costly to tolerate if it was believed that the majority of the lower classes would vote for nonthreatening elites after dangerous parties were ousted from power by a short-lived coup. This is why radical political parties that came to power but did not socially mobilize the lower classes to frequent demonstrations, terrorist activities, or strikes were responded to by short-lived coups rather than authoritarianism. It was expected that the tranquil public would turn toward mainstream representatives once the radical elites were repressed. In this sense, these nonmobilizing elites with radical ideologies, such as the political Islamist Welfare Party in Turkey in the 1990s, were “elitist.” If the answer to the question “Democracy with whom?” was unthreatening elites and a benign electorate, elites were more likely to prefer democracy, without any need for retaliation. In Alexander’s words, “actors commit to democracy when they forecast that expected payoffs from democracies are predictably generally higher than those from authoritarianism—in other words, when they believe that their well-being and safety are predictably better secured in democracy.”41 When previously threatening forces became unthreatening in Greece in the early 1980s, democracy turned out to be a better choice than military intervention. This is because democracy did not involve “the risks of repression and conflict that [intervention] inevitably imposes, however low these may be.”42 Notable scholarly works have identified consensual elite unification around the basic procedures and norms of democracy, sometimes sealed by formal or informal pacts, as a necessary element for democratic consolidation.43 These settlements and convergences with previously threatening elites and representatives of lower classes guarantee that the basic interests of upper classes and mainstream politicians will not be endangered anymore. In other words, such unification and pacts lower the costs of toleration. Michael Burton, Richard Gunther, and John

Higley explain, Acknowledgment of a common set of democratic norms of behavior reduces uncertainty. Insofar as these norms eschew violence, intimidation,Page 40 → and the like, their widespread acceptance reduces mutual fears and suspicions. And insofar as losing in a political conflict is not usually perceived as posing a direct threat to the physical or material well-being of either side, the intensity of the conflict is mitigated, and incumbents who lose an election are more willing to step down, confident that they will survive and perhaps return to power at some point in the future.44 Finally, democratic consolidation in Greece occurred when the military did not intervene. The majority of the officers did not consider intervening after the 1980s, because there were no substantial threats to their interests. Unless there are good reasons to intervene, militaries try to avoid doing so, because of four significant risks entailed in getting involved in internal political affairs and using repression: (1) abandoning the military’s main duty of protecting the nation against external threats; (2) leading the country into more political and economic crises than those that existed under civilian rule; (3) losing prestige, status, and legitimacy in society; and (4) failing to keep the internal hierarchy of the organization, splitting the officers into political camps or facing countercoups.45 For the military, the risks of intervention must not exceed its benefits. In other words, if there is no good reason (i.e., when there is no threat), the military will not risk intervening in politics. This is why, for democratic consolidation, it was essential for the Greek and Turkish militaries to feel unthreatened.

Determinants of the Costs of Suppression In this book, I assume that costs of suppression are determined by three factors: (1) the power of the military clique responsible for the intervention and/or of the ruling elite in authoritarianism vis-Г -vis the other forces in society, (2) coalitions that form among the elites, and (3) the unity of the military. Costs of suppression levels depend on the values each determinant takes. This section analyzes the three determinants in detail.

Socioeconomic and Political Developments: Power Balance in Society Writing about transitions from authoritarianism to democracy, Felipe AgГјero contends that the military in Southern Europe “continued to be powerful” and was “often the single most powerful institution” and that the Page 41 →influence of the military, “with its monopoly of armed force and political clout,” had been unmatched by other domestic organizations.46 In Greece and Turkey as well, the armed forces have been prominent. However, as Alfred Stepan argues for Latin American military regimes, “there is the possibility that the power of actors operating outside the state apparatus may grow while that of those working within the state declines.”47 In other words, even when the military is powerful, civil society may still increase its power while the military loses its strength. The reasons for the supremacy of the military and the possibility of its relative decline are mostly historical and unique to each country; therefore, I leave their detailed discussion in this book to the chapters that analyze the case studies. Here, I identify six general trends that will be useful for comparative purposes. First, in the wake of wars of independence and during the creation of new states, both Greek and Turkish societies and their strongmen (i.e., local notables) were weakened by massive dislocations, paving the way to relatively strong states.48 In Greece, after the conclusion of the Greek War of Independence, the local strongmen who led the war became the new political elite. Even though the Ottoman state had given local power to these notables before the war, the new Greek monarchic state challenged their power, and politics became the only means of extracting the economic surplus during the oligarchic democracy period. In this way, the oligarchs—the old primates, merchants, Phanariots, and military captains—turned into politicians, dealing also with nonlocal matters.49 In Turkey, an important legacy of the Ottoman state, the confiscation of the large estates of the local strongmen in the 1830s, helped major parts of what became Turkey to inherit an agrarian structure with small landholders. The Turkish War of Independence swept the Ottoman state elite completely aside and caused economic elites, who were religious and ethnic minorities, to flee the country. The only remaining group consisted of military and civilian bureaucrats, whose top leadership became the new political elite.50 After these political

elites consolidated their rule, they gave considerable autonomy to the military. Second, in subsequent years, external military threats helped create strong and autonomous militaries in Greece and Turkey.51 In Greece, the idea that all of the Greek-speaking people must be incorporated into the new state required a large army with sufficient resources to fight against the Ottoman Empire. In time, the military was able to use its resources against internal enemies as well. After the Second World War, the relative dominance of the armed forces was maintained in Greece and Turkey with the help of military aid, training, and advice from the British and, especially, the Americans. According to Charles Tilly, contrary to European cases, rulers in Third World Page 42 →societies did not need to bargain with elites to wage wars. Instead, they sought foreign aid, which adversely affected the power balance among societal groups, as “military organizations grew in size, strength, and efficacy while other organizations stood still or withered.”52 Similar to the Third World, the strategic locations of Greece and Turkey made these NATO countries quite valuable during the Cold War years. Even though the United States has never directly staged an intervention in these countries, military aid had important implications in keeping the armed forces strong.53 Third, besides the power of the military vis-Г -vis societal forces prior to the intervention, it was critical for the conspirators in the armed forces to have well thought-out plans that would allow them to use the resources of the military during the crucial moments of taking power, either for a short-lived interlude or for a long-term authoritarian regime. The mutineers gained important initial advantages if they were able to capture strategic locations quickly, maintain the secrecy of their conspiracy until the day of the intervention, manage to coordinate action among different units, and communicate with different regions and cities. Several military interventions in Greece and Turkey, such as the 1960 coup in Turkey and the 1967 takeover in Greece, were carried out by small numbers of middle-ranking officers, who, partly due to good planning, were still able to take over the government and utilize the resources of the military. Not all cliques were that skillful: the 1963 coup attempt in Turkey and the 1933 failed intervention in Greece could not succeed partly because of insufficient planning.54 Fourth, although the historical context that favors militaries and good planning on the day of the military intervention could work favorably for mutineers, the power of the militaries in Greece and Turkey diminished as society gained strength vis-Г -vis the armed forces. In terms of costs of toleration, the rising of the lower classes increases the perception of threat and might trigger a military intervention. But from the perspective of costs of suppression, “the obstacles for establishing and maintaining an exclusionary regime also increase pari passu with the activation of the popular sector. Its political strength limits regime autonomy and raises the costs of repression.”55 In Greece and Turkey, the lower classes gained autonomy from the mainstream political parties due to capitalist development and economic crises that accentuated the already existing inequalities. In Greece, the immigrants arriving from Turkey in the 1920s and German occupation during the Second World War also contributed to the growing strength of the lower classes. The relative increase in the powers of the lower classes in the 1930s was met with repression by the political elites in collaboration with the military, which was more powerful. The outcome of the Greek Civil War and the establishmentPage 43 → of the authoritarian regime in 1967 were testimonies that, despite losing their strength, the armed forces continued their dominance. The military lost its supremacy only when the elite coalition that used to support the military broke down and when, as a result, the lower classes found a chance to ally with the elites. When the lower classes endorsed the democratization project of the political right during the 1970s, a broad societal alliance against the military was formed.56 The 1970s in Turkey resembled the 1930s in Greece. Capitalism helped subordinate classes gain strength, but their power was no match for the military’s dominance. The active population remained disorganized and small in number. Contrary to the Greek experience in the same years, the option of allying with the upper classes was closed. The elites perceived the terrorist and violent activities of the lower classes as a serious threat and supported the military coup in 1980. This changed only in the early 2000s, when political and business elites, along with the majority of the electorate, coalesced around their support to push the military back to its barracks. Faced with a relatively unified and determined upper- and lower-class coalition, the military had to let go of its political prerogatives.

A fifth contributing factor in Greece that resulted in the decrease of the powers of the military was the way the 1967 authoritarian regime collapsed in 1974. The sudden and unplanned collapse of the junta due to an external war diminished the power of the military and decreased its bargaining position in attaining reserve domains and tutelary prerogatives after democratization. Contrarily, after military coups in Turkey, the armed forces themselves planned the transitions to democracy. This allowed them to have better bargaining positions and to receive or increase political prerogatives until the early 2000s.57 The final factor in changing the balance of power in society in Greece and Turkey was the EU accession process. The significance of the EU for Greece in the 1970s, when Prime Minister Karamanlis was pushing for the country’s eventual membership to what was then the EEC, is documented well in the literature.58 Similarly, the JDP’s use of the EU’s Copenhagen political criteria to bring the military under control in the early 2000s has been previously analyzed.59 But more needs to be said on this point. How exactly did the EU help democratize? The literature on Europeanization has shown that if the accession country does not already have a democratic government, political conditionality does not work.60 Evidence from Central and Eastern European countries has demonstrated that in inducing democratic change, the EU had no impact if the rulers in the accession country were authoritarian. Put differently, domesticPage 44 → actors must have preferred democracy in the first place to seriously seek membership to a club of democratic states. Authoritarian rulers of any given country would calculate that EU membership is too costly, because it requires the rulers to give up their power by liberalizing the regime.61 Thus, the EU’s positive influence kicks in only when there is domestic preference for more democratic solutions. Greece’s simultaneous EU membership and democratic consolidation in the early 1980s must be read from this perspective. The cause of democracy then was not necessarily the EU but the prodemocratic preferences of the elites who also sought EU membership. This does not mean that the EU has no role to play. Especially once a group of democratic actors emerges at home, the EU contributes to further democratization by “empowering” it.62 In other words, the EU alters the power balance in society by providing material incentives that can only be attained if democratic actors continue to rule the country and accept the accession criteria.63 This helps create a pro-democratic coalition (usually between voters, political elites, and the business community that benefits from open markets), increasing its powers against anti-democratic forces. In Turkey, this type of coalition building allowed the JDP to decrease the previous powers of the military (see more on elite coalitions below). The JDP used the EU in an instrumental manner, to empower itself against the military by receiving support from the other elites and voters, who believed that the JDP was a nonthreatening democratic party, given its pro-EU stance.64 Yet, as expected by the Europeanization literature, this positive influence of the EU disappeared when the JDP shifted to authoritarianism and began viewing EU political conditionality as too costly for its own survival. The effectiveness of the EU in “locking in” democracy is also questionable. Although the prevailing view in Greece in the 1980s was that democracy could not be reversed once the country entered the EU, recent evidence brings to doubt such optimistic expectations. The biggest carrot at the EU’s disposal is accession, and when that incentive is gone, member states can slide back to authoritarianism. The EU’s reluctance to impose sanctions to Hungary after the government of Viktor Orban stamped on democratic principles is a testimony that there is no regime guarantee after EU membership.65 As will be shown in chapter 5, the case of Greece itself demonstrates that being in the EU does not prevent anti-democratic forces from deconsolidating the regime. Indeed, since the economic crisis is associated with the EU and its policies of austerity, EU membership has arguably contributed to polarization in society and has increased the popularity of right-wing totalitarian forces. In sum, although the EU’s influence in changing the power balance in society in the pre-accession stage must be Page 45 →acknowledged, more meaning should not be attributed to the EU in directly causing or locking in democracy.

Elite Unity The second and third determinants of the costs of suppression (I study them together here) are the unity of the military and coalitions that form among the military, business elites, and mainstream politicians.66 Economic and

political elites always need a repressive apparatus to carry out an intervention. Without violent means, it is impossible to repress opposition. In Greece and Turkey, the militaries were involved, more than the police forces, in providing the violent means of coercion under threatening circumstances. Given that the militaries were the strongest state apparatuses, with the capability to carry out operations in even the remotest areas, other elites could not think of establishing an authoritarian regime or staging a coup without the help of the armed forces. From the point of view of the Greek and Turkish militaries, coalitions with civilian elites were not as necessary but were still desirable. Four possible and intertwined risks that engaging in repression posed to the military were identified above (under “How Did the Costs of Toleration Translate into Regime Preferences?”). These risks were low, though not zero, when there were “trustworthy” civilians who helped the Greek and Turkish militaries to govern and when an influential portion of the electorate supported the intervention. With the help of civilians, militaries were less likely to create political and economic crises and lose legitimacy, prestige, and status. For these reasons, militaries were unlikely to split up, lose their internal hierarchy, and face the possibility of a countercoup. Thus, before or after they intervened in politics, the armed forces sought alliances because elite support kept the risks of intervention at low levels. Before an intervention takes place, each officer tries to calculate the risks of participating and how many other officers are joining the conspiracy. Because risks will be calculated differently, some officers will always prefer to stay in the barracks, no matter how daunting the threat. We would expect some sort of split within militaries when an intervention is executed, especially if the coup is attempted outside of the chain of command (that is, the chief of the staff himself did not give the order of the putsch). However, such splits can be overcome, because officers also value the unity of the military.67 If the conspirators can persuade the hesitant faction that there are only few risks, the majority of the officers will support the intervention. Coalitions and inequality of power in favor of the military will help the conspirators Page 46 →convince the hesitators and will therefore facilitate the military to move in as a unified whole. What happened in Greece and Turkey when, with the costs of suppression at moderate levels, there was no elite unity in support of the intervention yet the military was still stronger than the rest of the society? In some of these cases, the conspirators still moved ahead, probably hoping that the rest of the military would follow suit once they had captured the government offices and the radio, television, telephone, and telegraph installations. Signals from civilians then became very important. If elites could immediately show that they did not support the intervention, the hesitators remained in their barracks and did not join with the conspirators.68 This happened, for example, in the 1962 and 1963 failed coups in Turkey and in 1933 in Greece. However, not all politicians heard about the putsches in advance or while they were taking place. Sometimes, opposing civilians were caught off guard, and before they could decide what to do, the conspirators who had planned the interventions successfully captured the government. Hesitators were then likely to jump on the bandwagon to keep the military unified. However, this unification turned out to be fragile, because civilians who were unable to signal their opposition initially would start to voice their opinions or refuse to collaborate after the military took power. In time, this opposition from the civilians showed that the actual costs of suppression were high. The military then split up, making the rule of the armed forces a difficult endeavor.69 The military officers who issued the 1971 memorandum in Turkey and staged the 1967 intervention in Greece found themselves in this situation.

How Did the Costs of Suppression Translate into Variations in Regime Consolidation? Authoritarian Regimes After the creation of authoritarianism, increases in the costs of suppression (in other words, splits among the elite) lead to unconsolidated regimes. One of the indicators of an unconsolidated authoritarian regime is the existence of pro-democratic political elites. In some cases, splits among the elites can directly bring about an unconsolidated authoritarian regime. If influential political elites do not support the authoritarian regime, they might also have pro-democratic regime preferences.70 Voicing pro-democratic preferences by establishing opposition political

parties or by organizing/supporting resistance movements results in unconsolidated authoritarian regimes by definition. Page 47 →The second indicator of unconsolidated authoritarianism is the existence of revolts. Almost all of the scholars working on social movements agree that state weakness and elite splits are among the conditions that create contentious politics. For instance, according to Theda Skocpol, elite splits and external threats that weaken the capacity of the state to defend itself are necessary conditions for social revolutions.71 Sidney Tarrow refers to these two factors as expanding political opportunities for contentious politics, that is, “consistent—but not necessarily formal or informal or permanent—dimensions of political environment that provide incentives for collective action by affecting people’s expectations of success and failure.”72 Elite split signals to potential rebels that there are increasing opportunities for successfully challenging the regime, decreasing chances of repression, and higher possibilities of making alliances with the elites.73 These types of calculations inspire mobilization, although “the time lag between the opening and popular mobilization varies from regime to regime.”74 Thus, not surprisingly, revolts against the power holders in Greek and Turkish unconsolidated authoritarian regimes usually coincided with elite splits. The emergence of hard-liner versus soft-liner cleavages within the regimes, coupled with the consequent mobilization of sections of society, deeply shook the foundations of these regimes.75 In the 1974 Greek case, these tremors eventually facilitated the transition to democracy, when the softliners decided to liberalize.76 In Turkey in the 1930s, the authoritarian leaders recovered from the shock, bought off or convinced the soft-liners, made new alliances, and repressed the rebellions; after formidable struggles, the regime consolidated. When there were no elite divisions to begin with, as in the Greek case of 1936, quick and heavy repression of the revolts ensued. In instances of sporadic rebellions, the regime did not introduce major changes (e.g., liberalization, a new constitution, or a more repressive internal coup), and the consolidated nature of the authoritarian regime continued.

Consolidated Democracies A consolidated democracy in Greece emerged when the costs of toleration were low, in other words, when elites were not threatened by each other or by the electorate. It was also critical for the military to feel that its interests were secure, for officers who feel threatened may attempt an intervention and prevent the consolidation of democracy.77 Costs of suppression were important as well. The military may hold on to power positions in a democracy even when there are no direct threats to its security. The definition of consolidated democracy includes a condition on military prerogatives: as long as armed forces have tutelary powers and/or impose reserve domains, it is impossible Page 48 →to talk about democratic consolidation. In countries with historically strong militaries, like in Greece and Turkey, it would be impossible for civilians who remain weaker than the armed forces to control the military or to abolish its prerogatives, because the military would not give up its powers willingly. Hence, the study of democratic consolidation must include the study of “relative empowerment of civilian reformers and the military.”78 In Greece, the reduction of the military’s powers coincided with and facilitated democratic consolidation in the 1980s. In Turkey, the prerogatives of the armed forces were reduced in the 2000s, although the democratic regime did not consolidate. The civilians in Greece and Turkey had more power than the military and effectively reduced military prerogatives when three conditions were met.79 All of these conditions are related to the determinants of costs of suppression, identified above. First, previous political developments—such as who controlled the transition from authoritarianism to democracy, the extent to which the transition was sudden or planned, or the existence of failed coups in the recent past—affected the power of the militaries in bargaining for exit guarantees. Prosecution of the authoritarian leaders or conspirators, for instance, provided important lessons for future putschists and increased the costs of repression.80 Another factor that signaled increasing costs was “manifest citizen support” for the political elites and electoral endorsement of their agendas.81 If the lower classes allied with the elites, the costs of suppression rose for the military, because it then had to repress all quarters of the society.

Second, the internal unity of the military and its capacity to develop consensus within its ranks strengthened the hand of the armed forces and allowed them to resist or even take effective action against threatening civilians. All things being equal, “the hierarchical military poses the threat of having the power to impose вЂreserve domains’ on theВ .В .В . elected government, and this, by definition, precludes democratic consolidation.”82 If the military was unified in support of keeping political prerogatives, it was difficult to challenge the armed forces. Finally, coalitions that formed among the civilians endowed the elites with more powers than the military held. Many scholars have advocated similar approaches of elite unity to explain democratic consolidation.83 The approach employed here seems to disagree with these authors: it is argued that high costs of suppression and, hence, elite disunity (rather than unity) results in democratic consolidation. However, this disagreement is superficial, because this is a different kind of elite unity. When scholars write about elite consensus, they focus more on the costs of toleration than on the costs Page 49 →of suppression. It is true that decreases in threat levels lead the elites to unify around democracy. But such decreases simultaneously steer elites toward dissolving their coalition with the military.84 Without coalition partners, the risks of intervention increased for the military in Greece in the 1980s and in Turkey in the 2000s. Unable to press for the creation of new political powers or the continuation of old prerogatives, this rise in the costs of suppression aided civilian control of the armed forces and, in the Greek case, democratic consolidation. As is demonstrated by the attempted coup conspiracies in Greece and alleged (but then falsified) plots in Turkey, possible putschists did not command the military hierarchy and lacked support from the majority of their fellow officers. Any future attempt would not be supported by influential civil elites either. Under these circumstances, interventionist military cliques could not take over the elected government.

Unconsolidated Democracies In Greece and Turkey, unconsolidated democracies with coups were observed when elites were threatened by each other and when the costs of toleration were at moderate levels. The levels of the costs of suppression alone did not determine whether or not we would see unconsolidated democracies. By definition, threatening to use violence against one’s opponents is an indicator of democratic unconsolidation. Even when a military coup does not succeed, its mere attempt shows that for a significant group in society (in this case, a military faction) democratic rules and procedures are not “the only game in town.” As a result, high costs of suppression sometimes exist in unconsolidated democracies.85 However, costs of suppression did affect outcomes from attempted coups. In Greece and Turkey, when the costs of suppression were low, the military succeeded in capturing the government, repressing and preventing the threatening elites from returning to governmental power in the short run, and initiating the changes it wished to achieve during and immediately after the coup. When the costs of suppression were high, the insurgents failed to capture the government and faced penalties. Even when the military clique was powerful, if the costs of suppression were moderate, there was no initial coalition to back up the military intervention. Since short-lived coups were initiated against mainstream elites, a faction of the political and/or economic elites resisted the coup in most of the cases. However, if the civilians failed to signal this resistance during the putsch, the conspirators succeeded in capturing the government, because the hesitators moved along with them Page 50 →to safeguard the military’s unity. In a few months’ time, however, it became apparent that there was no coalition, and the costs of suppression started to rise even further because the military split up into factions. Then the coup period started to resemble and sometimes even converted into unconsolidated authoritarianism. In 1960 and 1971 in Turkey and in 1922 and 1925 in Greece, some officers in the armed forces became soft-liners because they realized that there was no coalition. For them, “there [was] life after democracy, as [they]В .В .В . [could] usually return to barracks with their status and careers untarnished.”86 Some of the initial conspirators, however, became hard-liners because democracy now meant that they faced personal threats—such as loss of career, imprisonment, exile, or execution. Since there were no trustworthy elites to safeguard the interests of the conspirators, hard-liners became threatened by a return to democracy and started advocating authoritarianism. But the conspirators attained only partial success in eliminating the threats they perceived and in putting into action the changes they desired.

Table 2.1 summarizes the main arguments of this chapter: the various elements of the costs of toleration and suppression; the determinants of their high, moderate, and low levels; and how they affected regime outcomes. The table also provides the indicators of the regime outcomes and short-lived coups. In the following chapters and for analyzing regimes in which the military had political powers, these tables will guide the empirical analysis and the questions that must be asked. The blank cells will be filled out in the chapters featuring the case studies, depending on the evidence. Since the theory primarily investigates the cases where the military was an important actor, the table will not be used for explaining more contemporary events occurring after the military lost its power vis-Г -vis the civilians. Page 51 → Table 2.1. Guide to the Empirical Analysis: Costs of Toleration and Suppression Low Moderate High Costs of Toleration Elites No Yes Yes threatened? Perception of threat to the military’s interests Perception of threat to the political elites’ interests Perception of threat to the business elites’ interests Elites threatened No Yes Yes/No by each other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote No No/Yes Yes for radical parties that could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening No No Yes contentious action? Consolidated Unconsolidated Democracy Democracy with All Coups procedural Outcome Procedural conditions Authoritarianism conditions partially fulfilled + fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal Attitudinal support support Costs of Suppression Military clique / ruling elite had Yes Yes No more power than the opposition? Societal dislocation eliminated an elite group External wars led to increased resources for the military

Proper planning of the military intervention Power of the lower classes Alliance between the lower classes and oppositional political elites Transition from the last authoritarian regime / military intervention Military clique / ruling elite had Yes No No support from other elites? Support of the military Support/collaboration of the political elites Support of the business elites Unified military in support of an Yes No No intervention? Elites signaled their opposition at the beginning Other military officers on the bandwagon at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits within the military Consolidated Democracy — — All procedural conditions fulfilled + Attitudinal support Successful Coup Fragile Coup Page 52 Officers Officers captured the →Outcome in captured the government but failed Failed Coup democracy government to realize some or all Officers failed to capture the government and initiated of their goals; slide to the changes authoritarianism they envisioned Consolidated All significant elites abided by the rules Unconsolidated and Significant political Outcome in institutions of elites had pro— authoritarianism the regime + democratic preferences No + Rebellions against significant the power holders rebellions against the power holders (continues)

Page 53 →

3. Greece between 1922 and 1974 From the National Schism to the Collapse of the Junta From its independence until the 1970s, Greece was politically an unstable country, experiencing several coups, unconsolidated democratic periods, authoritarian episodes, and a civil war. In this chapter, I will investigate the odyssey of Greece toward the consolidated democracy established in the wake of the colonels’ junta. More specifically, utilizing the theory put forward in chapter 2, I will examine three regimes in Greece: the unconsolidated democracy and the coups of the interwar years, the consolidated Metaxas regime of 1936, and the unconsolidated colonels’ junta.

The Birth of the Greek State and the Unconsolidated Democracy of 19th-Century Greece Greeks began to fight for their independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1821. By 1830, they had become recognized as an independent state by the European powers.1 At that time, the Greek territories included areas roughly corresponding to today’s regions of central and western Greece and several Aegean islands. Greece gradually increased its territories—annexing the peripheries of Thessaly in 1881; Macedonia, Epirus, and Crete in 1913; and Thrace in 1920. King Otho and the Bavarian regency ruled Greece without an elected government for 10 years. However, a set of reforms between 1843 and 1875 established an unconsolidated democratic regime in Greece. Greece inherited from its past a disunited elite, which included four different groups with diverse interests and power bases.2 The first group, the Phanariots, was located in Istanbul and included the Orthodox Church officials, as well as the Greek Ottoman administrators who served as diplomats, governors of the Aegean islands, and princes of Moldavia and Wallachia. The second elite Page 54 →faction consisted of the local notables and primates who functioned as tax collectors and administrators within the Ottoman system of governance and thereby accumulated considerable local power and wealth.3 The third group was made up of military men who served both the primates and the Ottoman center but sometimes also engaged in robbery and raids. This faction formed the core of the disorganized military of Greece during the War of Independence. The final group consisted of the Greek merchants spread throughout the Mediterranean, Balkans, Europe, and southern Russia. It also included tradesmen from three islands in the Aegean (Hydra, Spetses, and Psara), who owned half of the ships of the Greek merchant fleet and played influential roles in the war, especially in the maritime battles.4 During the Greek War of Independence, these elites, called the tzakia, came into conflict with each other over who would lead the war. The conflict among the groups continued after independence was gained; additionally, the newly established Greek state challenged their powers.5 Despite formidable opposition from the tzakia, among the achievements of the first rulers of Greece was the creation of the regular army, which recruited from elite families and represented their interests until the military formed its own esprit de corps.6 The overlap of military and politicians’ interests led the military in Athens and the elites of the three political parties to stage a coup and pressure the king to agree to a constitutional monarchy in 1843. A bicameral assembly was created, but the powers to appoint and dismiss the government and to close the assembly were still given to the king.7 In 1862, after another revolt of the Athens garrison, King Otho was deposed and replaced by King George, from the Danish Glucksburg dynasty. In 1864, the new king ratified a constitution that granted universal male suffrage and popular sovereignty.8 At the end of the 19th century, military officers started to detach themselves from the political elites and to develop a separate identity as professional soldiers, increasingly concerned with the interests of the military institution. This development took place mainly because of the strengthening of the armed forces in response to competition from the Balkan neighbors and during the gradual transformation of Greece into a modern nationstate.9 Direct involvement of the monarchy and the crown prince in the armed forces led to the first autonomous coup of the Greek military in August 1909. The defeat of the Greek military by the Ottoman Empire in 1897 was a

grievance, and the crown was seen as responsible for it.10 The armed forces were expected to realize the “Great Idea,” which encompassed the vision of bringing together all the Greek-speaking peoples who lived under Ottoman rule in Asia Minor, Macedonia, Thrace, and the islands. This expansionist policy Page 55 →required a strong military that could defeat and conquer the Ottoman Empire. However, given the financial crisis the state was in, transferring funds and reforming the armed forces after the 1897 defeat seemed impossible.11 The politicians, including the king, resented the 1909 coup. But, faced with threats of full intervention that would close down the parliament altogether, they cooperated with the military. Despite sporadic protests by the politicians against the Military League, which staged the coup, the military managed to push through several important reforms, increasing the effectiveness of state institutions, reducing corruption, and eliminating unqualified and fraudulent personnel from the bureaucracy, the universities, and the army. Within Greece’s capabilities, the armed forces were also strengthened. The influence of the monarchy over the armed forces declined significantly, and the princes were dismissed from their command posts. Additionally, the purchase of new weapons, warships, and destroyers was sanctioned; foreign military loans and missions were allowed; budget allocations were increased; and conscription procedures were changed.12 The 1909 coup ushered in a new era in Greek politics. Nineteenth-century Greece was predominantly agricultural; of the economically active population, 74 percent in 1861 and 70 percent in 1920 were occupied in this sector, while only 13 percent was involved in manufacturing, mostly in small enterprises.13 Some new industrial enterprises had started to form before the First World War, engaged in the manufacturing of soaps, cement, artificial fertilizers, and wines and spirits. Whereas there were only 22 large factories in Athens and Piraeus in 1880, that number increased to 63 in 1900 and 92 in 1910. The increases in the number of industrialists also resulted in the formation of the Hellenic Federation of Enterprises (SEV) in 1907.14 In late 1908 and early 1909, several protests were organized by manufacturers and trade guilds criticizing the economic situation and imposition of new taxes.15 These protests prepared favorable conditions for the military intervention, signaling that the majority of the population would approve a coup. Indeed, one month after the coup, at least 60,000 people in Athens gathered to demonstrate their support for the Military League.16 The coup facilitated the demise of the old elite and the king, who had dominated the political scene since the War of Independence. In the August 1910 elections, the associations of merchants, the Piraeus Chamber of Commerce, and the Athens Political Association (which represented the entrepreneurs) supported independent candidates, who won 146 seats in parliament.17 The Cretan politician Eleftherios Venizelos, who was invited into Greek politics by the Military League, agreed to head these groups in parliamentPage 56 → and formed the Liberal Party.18 The 1909 coup marked the ascendancy of the urban groups, including businesspeople, merchants, and manufacturers, leading some scholars to even dub it a “bourgeoisie revolution.”19 The coup did not only signify the increasing power of business groups. From 1910 to 1915, the new politicians gathered around Venizelos carried out important reforms and managed, with the military, to more than double the territory of the Greek state, by incorporating Crete, Epirus, Macedonia, and Thrace. Almost half of the articles of the constitution were changed, including the introduction of mandatory elementary education, giving tenure to bureaucrats, and banning active military officers from holding parliamentary positions. New labor legislation was passed, related to issues of health, safety, and working hours.20 Thus, in the wake of the 1909 coup, Greek politics and society encountered important changes, bringing new dynamics to the interwar period.

The Unconsolidated Democracy and the Coups of the Interwar Period Notwithstanding frequent military interventions, wars, and intense political conflict, the interwar period in Greece was a democracy because it satisfied at least one of the procedural conditions and held 13 relatively free and nonviolent elections for the assembly. However, the regime was unconsolidated, because unelected institutions, such as the military and the monarchy, held reserve and tutelary powers. Political allegiances in Greece during this period were divided between two opposing camps, headed by the Liberal Party and the People’s Party. Both camps had supporters within the armed forces, which rendered the military cliques and political factions of the

same camp dependent on each other. The monarchy attempted to use its reserve powers, especially in issues of foreign policy, against the Liberal Party and its leader, Venizelos. Mutual distrust and suspicion encouraged political leaders to resort to extra-parliamentary means, such as inviting interventions by the military or the monarchy. Elite conflict and moderate levels of costs of toleration explain the unconsolidated nature of the democracy and the frequent coups in the interwar period (see table 3.1). The conflict among the political elites between 1910 and 1936 was between the republicans and the royalists (and sometimes within these opposing camps) and was first over the issue of the First World War and then over the issue of the monarchy. The first dispute arose when the king rejected the decision of Prime Minister Venizelos to enter the war on the side of Page 57 →the Entente powers. The conflict, which came to be known as the National Schism, resulted in the existence of two rival governments in Greece for almost two years. Venizelos’s government in Salonika joined the war, while King Constantine’s government, located in Athens, started to attack the supporters of Venizelos. With the direct involvement of the Entente powers, Venizelos defeated Constantine, and Greece entered the war in 1917.21 This led to the second conflict, which continued until the end of this period. The issue of the monarchy led the Venizelists to declare a republic, first in 1917, during the war, and then again in 1924, via a military coup. By the same token, the royalists reinstituted the monarchy whenever they had the opportunity—in 1920, after they defeated the Venizelists at the ballot box, and in 1935, after two consecutive electoral victories and a failed republican coup. Both of these issues reflected a more general conflict between the two camps. With the successes of Venizelos, the parties that dominated politics until 1909 felt that their elite status was under threat; thus, they allied with the king. When in power, the republicans feared that the royalists might challenge the republicans’ eliteness if they come to power. The danger that the two camps posed to one another was sometimes even life-threatening. After the 1922 coup, six royalist leaders, including Prime Minister Gounaris and the chief of the general staff, were executed.22 In the same vein, shortly after the royalists won the elections in 1933, there was an assassination attempt against Venizelos by the director of public security, who was appointed to his position by the new government.23 This type of threat perception, shared by the two opposing political camps, caused democracy to suffer. In addition to withholding attitudinal support for democracy, the politicians sometimes resorted to extraparliamentary tools to secure their situations. The businesspeople were also affected by the elite conflict (although not as directly and intensely as the political elites), and they allied with one or the other of the camps. Economic development during the Venizelist years contributed to the alliance that had already been forged between the Liberal Party and the businesspeople in 1910. Even though small-scale manufacturing (especially operations managed by the family unit) still dominated the Greek economy, annual industrial growth rates reached close to 7 percent between 1921 and 1929 and more than 5 percent between 1929 and 1938.24 From 1920 to 1930, the number of industrial establishments in Greece more than doubled.25 Despite these favorable outcomes, there were major exceptions to the Venizelist-business alliance, especially in the finance sector. The most notable bank that allied with the royalists was the National Bank, a private commercial bank that functioned as the central bank until the Venizelist government’s decision to replace it with the Bank of Greece in 1928.26 Page 58 → Table 3.1. Summary Analysis of the Coups in Greece between 1910 and 1935 Moderate Costs of Toleration between 1910 and 1935 Elites threatened? Perception of threat to the military’s interests

Yes The coherence and autonomy of the military was disturbed + Patron-client relations between officers and politicians + Lack of job security (+ Defeat in war in 1922)

Perception of threat to the Conflict between republicans (Venizelists) and royalists (anti-Venizelists): challenges to political reelection, holding office, and security elites’ interests Perception of threat to the Most businessmen supported the republicans against the royalists; a few supported the royalists business + Economic crisis in the 1920s and 1930s community’s interests Elites threatened by Yes—in particular the military and the politicians were divided into opposing camps each other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote No—majority of the electorate voted for one of the mainstream camps for radical parties that could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening No contentious action? Unconsolidated Democracy with Coups Outcome Procedural conditions were partially fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal support

В

Costs of Suppression between 1910 and 1935 Moderate in 1922 High in 1933 and 1935 and 1925

The military clique had more power Yes than the opposition?

No

Societal dislocation Land distribution after the arrival of the refugees eliminated an elite group Proper planning of Yes No the military intervention Power of the Low Low lower classes

Alliance between the lower classes and No—political parties did not mobilize the lower classes against the interventions opposition elites against the intervention The military clique had No No support from other elites? Support Republicans later /collaboration withdrew their Venizelist politicians did not endorse the coup or failed to signal their support of the support political elites Splits in the business Support of the community and in business 1925, Venizelist No community businessmen withdrew their support Page 59 →Unified No No military? Military Opposing camp on officers on the the bandwagon in No bandwagon at 1922, not in 1925 the beginning Soft-liner versus hardliner splits Yes—the opposing camp was against the intervention; splits among the coup makers within the military Fragile Coup Officers captured the government but failed to realize their main goals; Failed Coup Outcome royalists survived Officers failed to capture the government the interventions and after 1926 took part in the coalition government From 1910 to the mid-1930s, the peasants and the workers voted for the mainstream parties, which lowered the costs of toleration. The old territories of the south remained royalist strongholds, thanks to the prevailing patronclient relations in the region, which connected the peasants to the old political parties.27 The refugees, workers, and peasants of the newly acquired lands in Thessaly, Epirus, and Macedonia supported the republicans, mainly because of the aggressive program of land distribution followed by the Venizelist governments. Between 1911 and

the mid-1930s, 310,000 families were settled in more than 3,000 holdings—comprising around 40 percent of the arable land.28 In the 1920s, the urban workers were another group that supported the republican camp, which formulated legislation to the advantage of labor.29 Soon, however, it became clear that the Venizelists were bringing together two irreconcilable classes by representing both business and labor. Not surprisingly, most of the advantageous legislation was poorly implemented, and the factories that did not follow the rules and regulations were not penalized.30 In addition, the state tried to control trade unions with several new laws, the most infamous one being the repressive and anti-leftist Idionymon law of 1929.31 This led some of the workers to turn toward the royalists, who were able to lure them with patronage and campaign promises of small property.32 Although labor was mainly caught up in the elite conflict, this period also witnessed the birth of lower-class consciousness, which was exemplified by the establishment of the General Confederation of Greek Workers (GSEE) in 1918 and the Communist Party in 1920 and by the organization of a national strike by 150,000 workers in 1923.33 Indeed, regardless of the docilityPage 60 → of labor, the seeds of growing radicalism in the 1930s were sown during these two decades. The main culprits of the interwar years were certainly the military officers, who staged at least four different coups during this period. The first division of the military along royalist and republican lines occurred during the First World War, when King Constantine opposed the decision of Venizelos to join the war. The Venizelists in the military gained strength after Constantine’s abdication in 1917, Venizelos’s assumption of premiership in Athens, and the subsequent purges of the royalists.34 After the royalists won the 1920 elections, they reinstated 1,500 officers who had been purged, counting their missing three years in the service toward their promotion. The officers who were promoted during the Venizelist years were demoted to the ranks they had held before 1917.35 The purges and the readmissions that took place during the war created grievances among the officers, threatened their interests, forced many to take sides in the ongoing royalist-versus-republican conflict, and effectively generated factional splits within the military. The officers secured their positions or advanced their interests only by being connected to a hierarchy of military patrons, with Venizelos and King Constantine at the very top.36 Because of the splits within the armed forces and among political and business elites, all of the military interventions of the interwar years had relatively high costs of suppression levels. Thus, those years saw no successful coups that both took over the government and achieved the organizers’ main intentions. The first coup of this period—and probably the most successful one—occurred in September 1922, as a response to a specific perception of threat by the military after the disastrous war against Turkey. The coup was carried out by 12,000 military officers who had reorganized on the islands of Chios and Lesbos when retreating from Asia Minor. The armed forces initially did not reflect any royalist-versus-republican divisions. However, they deposed the royalist government and executed anti-Venizelist leaders whom they perceived as the source of the defeat.37 As a result, what started out as a conflict between the military and the politicians was converted into a conflict between republicans and royalists. The putschists also encountered the resistance of some of the civilian republican leaders on the issue of the abolition of the monarchy.38 Some republican politicians, including Venizelos, favored the creation of a constituent assembly and allowing the electorate to decide the issue via a referendum. Venizelos’s criticism had the effect of splitting the leadership of the coup into two factions. The hard-liners prepared for a coup to abolish the monarchy in June 1923, which they aborted under the pressure of the moderates. They finallyPage 61 → agreed to hold elections in December 1923 and to return to democracy without attaining their main aspirations. The declaration of the republic was carried out by the elected parliament in 1924, after the rule of the military was over.39 The second coup of this period was led by Lieutenant General Theodoros Pangalos in 1925. This coup reflected the divisions within the republican camp. The initial reasons given to justify the 1925 intervention were the inadequacy of the Venizelist political parties to write the republican constitution, to deal with the refugee problem arising after the Lausanne Treaty, and to reinforce the army and the navy after the war.40 The initial intention of

Pangalos was not to change the regime but only to fix it with a coup. Pangalos did not close down the national assembly, and during the parliament session that took place five days after the coup, he declared that the government would “continue in its parliamentary path.”41 At first, the Venizelists in the parliament did not oppose the intervention, and Pangalos received support from the republican officers in the military.42 Pangalos was honored by conservative circles as a defender of private property and was seen as a bourgeoisie leader who could protect the national industries from foreign competition, provide state incentives for domestic investments, reestablish the trust of the capital, and free Greece from its financial crisis.43 However, a few months later, Pangalos alienated even the republican elites, when he started a conflict against Bulgaria, threatened to declare war against Turkey, and intimidated almost all the Balkan nations.44 The political and military elites reacted strongly to the aggressive foreign policies. The interim government did not measure up to the expectations of the business community either. Businesspeople had expected the government to fix the economy for the better; instead, “the drachma depreciated heavily,” and “the National Bank’s foreign exchange reserves fell from 3.2 million [pounds] to 606,000 [pounds] in seven months, while the sale of exchange caused a credit contraction of over 20 [percent].”45 The president of the SEV, Andreas Hatzikyriakos, criticized Pangalos’s policy of changing an already existing industrial law in order to benefit only specific types of businesses. Hatzikyriakos believed that this policy would support the creation of monopolies. The director of the National Bank of Greece was another fierce critic of Pangalos and his economic policies.46 Mounting opposition meant a personal threat for Pangalos, because he could now lose his position both in the military and the government. What started out as a coup thus became an authoritarian regime because of the fragility of the intervention. When Pangalos declared his dictatorship in January 1926, he claimed, “Because I do not see that it is possible to trust the Page 62 →parliament anymore, I have decided to change what has been my course thus far.”47 However, without support, the dictatorship he formed was doomed to fail. Before he could realize any of the things he wished to achieve, such as writing a new constitution, he was overthrown by the same military officers who had supported him during the initial stages of his coup. In the following November 1926 elections, the royalist and anti-Venizelist People’s Party won 20 percent of the votes and took part in the coalition government formed together with the Venizelist Liberals, indicating the fragility of the 1925 coup in repressing the opposition elites. After the demise of the Pangalos government, Greece did not witness a major military coup for seven years. The 1933 putsch was a coup attempted by Venizelist officers against the royalists, who had just won elections following almost a decade of republican dominance. The insurgents, however, were at a serious disadvantage. During the coalition government of 1926, the royalists managed to reinstate 341 royalist officers in the army.48 In this way, the Venizelist unity of the military, which had been achieved after the 1922 coup, came to an end during the late 1920s. The lack of unity among the officers was combined with insufficient planning for the coup (prepared just one day after the election results were announced) and lack of active support from republican leaders, including Venizelos. The fate of the coup was sealed, and the insurgents failed completely. The 1935 military intervention was attempted, again, by Venizelist officers, because most of them had been threatened by the policies of the royalists, including possible purges in the armed forces. This time, the coup was encouraged by Venizelos, who thought that his only hope against the royalists was a military intervention. However, Venizelos refrained from being connected to the coup during its staging. This decision was fatal; in an already divided military, additional republican officers who could have been mobilized probably stayed in their barracks because they did not know if an influential leader was behind the intervention. There was no cohesion among the republican insurgents either. Three loose groups within the military organized the 1935 movement, resulting in its utter failure due to inner conflicts and a major lack of communication.49 The failure of this coup announced the complete defeat of the republican forces and marked the beginning of a new era in Greek politics.

The 1936 Consolidated Authoritarian Regime The turbulent unconsolidated democracy of the interwar years drew to a close with the establishment of an

authoritarian regime under the control of Page 63 →Ioannis Metaxas, the former chief of the general staff, an exgeneral in the Greek Army, and the leader of a royalist minority party since 1923.50 Despite the fact that Metaxas’s party won less than 3 percent of the parliamentary seats in the January 1936 elections, King George II appointed Metaxas prime minister, and they declared an authoritarian regime together on 4 August 1936. The regime banned all political parties and activities, and no elections were held throughout its duration.51 The Metaxas regime was consolidated until 1941, when Metaxas died and when Germany invaded Greece (the two events occurred three months apart). Between 1936 and 1941, there was only one insignificant rebellion, in the Venizelist stronghold of Crete, organized with the help of Venizelos’s nephew and a Liberal Party politician, Aristomenis Mitsotakis. However, that rebellion dispersed itself within hours, because the rest of Greece failed to revolt and because no other politician stood in solidarity with the rebels.52 As shown in table 3.2, the causes of authoritarianism during this period lay in high costs of toleration. Concurrent with the rivalry between the Venizelists and the anti-Venizelists, the late 1920s and especially the early 1930s experienced another conflict that threatened to overthrow the socioeconomic order and the democratic regime. The Great Depression resulted in the spread and strengthening of the labor movement and the desertion of some sections of the lower classes to the Communist Party of Greece (CP).53 This change was especially visible among the refugees and northern tobacco producers and workers, who had lent support to the Venizelists in the past decades.54 Unemployment increased from 75,000 in 1928 to 237,000 in 1932, representing almost half of the active urban population.55 The royalists, who came to power in 1933, did little to alleviate the conditions of the workers, neglecting to bring social insurance or unemployment benefits into effect. The government was also against providing assistance in labor-employer disputes, believing that this intervention would be against the economic principles of a free market.56 The worsening conditions among the lower classes translated into higher vote shares for the CP. In the 1936 national elections, that party, which increased its membership from 1,500 in 1931 to 15,000 in 1936, received 5.76 percent of the votes. For the first time, the CP won 15 seats in the parliament, while the royalists held 143 and the republicans held 141. With these results, neither mainstream party could form a government unless it established a coalition. Negotiations between the two camps failed, because the Venizelists insisted on reinstating the republican officers who had been dismissed after the 1935 attempted coup. As a result, both camps started to negotiate with the CP.57 In an attempt to hold together the fragile bourgeoisie-worker-peasantPage 65 → electoral base, the Liberal Party leader, Sofoules, in his talks with the communists, promised that if they supported his premiership, the republicans would endorse the abolition of the repressive anti-leftist Idionymon law and pardon those who had been convicted of political crimes.58 Page 64 → Table 3.2. Summary Analysis of the Greek Regime of 1936–41 High Costs of Toleration between 1936 and 1941 The political, military, and business elites threatened? The political, military, and business elites threatened by each other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote for radical parties that

Yes

Yes—the republicans and the royalists were still in conflict

Yes—although the Communists were a minority, the party increased its votes and had a good chance to come to power in coalition with mainstream parties

could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening contentious action? Outcome

Yes—there were leftist demonstrations and strikes

Authoritarianism Low Costs of Suppression between 1936 and 1941

Metaxas had more power than Yes the opposition? Threat of external wars led to Monopoly over the means of violence; increasing resources due to the possibility of war in increased Europe resources for the military Power of the Increased due to economic development and the arrival of the refugees; however, still limited. lower classes The regime repressed the Communist Party Alliance between the lower classes Failure to form such an alliance as exemplified by the Cretan rebellion and opposition elites Metaxas had support from Yes other elites? Support of the Yes—the interests of the royalist military were protected military Support Support from the king; opposition from some politicians against Metaxas but not for /collaboration of democracy the political elites Support of the Yes—repression of the lower classes and increased state intervention benefited the business businesspeople community Unified military? Yes Elites signaling their opposition No at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits No within the military Consolidated Outcome in No significant elites with pro-democratic regime preferences + No significant rebellions authoritarianism against the power holders This deal was alarming for some of the elites, particularly because labor unrest was on the rise. During Venizelos’s four years in office, between 1928 and 1932, clashes between government forces and striking or

demonstrating workers led to 27 killings, 13,050 arrests, and 2,400 sentences of imprisonment or deportation. During the royalist government, between 1933 and 1935, there were 10 dead, 3,725 arrested, and 785 sentenced. In 1932, 80,000 workers struck on 199 different occasions. In 1933, these numbers increased to 100,000 workers and 473 strikes. Given that there were, at most, about 500,000 manual laborers in Greece in 1928, these numbers suggest that close to one-fifth of the laboring class was striking at the beginning of the 1930s.59 The numbers increased in the following years, reaching unprecedented proportions before the Metaxas dictatorship.60 On the first day of May alone, there were 13,000 workers on strike in Athens, 16,000 in Piraeus, 5,000 in Iraklion, 1,500 in Mytilene, and 3,000 in Patras.61 In July, the government declared that mandatory settlement measures would be implemented in labor disputes. In response, the GSEE announced that there would be another national strike at the beginning of August. One day before that strike was to start, Metaxas and the king established their dictatorship. The initial reasoning provided by Metaxas for the authoritarian regime was the escalation of the lower-class movement and the threat of communism. Metaxas wrote to the king that “communism commenced a series of unjustified strikes to create an atmosphere favorable for the launching of its present impeding seditious offensive.”62 The fear that it may be too late to prevent bloodshed if the current condition continued led to the creation of an authoritarian regime.63 Democracy was seen as incapable of coping with the leftist movement, and authoritarianism held out the promise of keeping the CP and the lower-class movements at arm’s length, out of politics, and under control. Indeed, throughout the regime’s duration, the communists were crushed heavily. The police imprisoned or sent to concentration camps 45,000 communist sympathizers—including the secretary general of the CP, the entire central committee, and most of the middle-ranking party members.64 The ability of the Metaxas regime to repress and mute opposition was a result partly of the support it garnered from other elites and partly of low costs of suppression. First and foremost, the king, in response to the Venizelistcommunist coalition government and fearful of a military coup outside of his influence, granted Metaxas the power to form the cabinet and Page 66 →later endorsed his decision to establish the dictatorship.65 This union between the “twin dictators” continued until the end of the regime. The king’s support was significant for the position of the military and other political elites. The military was unified, and it belonged firmly to the royalist camp after the irreversible purges of the Venizelists in 1935. Given that the king was supportive of the dictatorship and that Metaxas was a former general with known pro-monarchy attitudes, the majority of the royalist military officers did not have any reason to overthrow the regime. Indeed, Metaxas guaranteed that Venizelist officers would not be admitted back into the military.66 Moreover, the military continued to be the most dominant armed group in Greek society. The prospect of a major European war necessitated a large army with necessary equipment. Metaxas’s regime focused especially on this issue and tried to make Greece self-sufficient in armaments, by building a war industry. Greece also imported war materials, particularly from Germany. Defense expenditures rose significantly in order to finance not just armaments but also maintenance of equipment and salaries of the officers.67 Metaxas assumed the ministries of army, navy, and defense and kept close relations with Chief of the General Staff Alexandros Papagos, who was left autonomous in exchange for his loyalty.68 Metaxas could also count on the tranquility of the political elites, who gave a vote of confidence to the Metaxas cabinet in April 1936, even though they knew that he could establish an authoritarian regime. This initial support was perhaps due to the belief that this leadership would be a temporary solution and that Metaxas could effectively repress lower-class activism. Starting in the late 1920s, some republican and royalist politicians had already advocated more repressive measures and warned against the communist threat.69 There was increasing discussion, inspired by Mussolini and Hitler, of the virtues of authoritarianism over democracy.70 Metaxas also gained legitimacy thanks to collaborative politicians who took part in the Metaxas governments: out of 40 ministers who served in these cabinets, 19 percent were politicians, including a Liberal Party member, and 8 percent were public officials.71 Obviously, this did not mean that all political elites, as a monolithic entity, were supportive of Metaxas. On the contrary, both royalists and republicans attempted to overthrow the dictator.72 Their failure was partly due to their

internal conflicts (remaining from the interwar years) and to the coincidental deaths of all potential rival leaders, including the passing away of Venizelos in March 1936. Additionally, the most significant reason for the failure of the opposition elites was their constant futile appeals to the king. They could not offer anything new to George II, who preferred to work with a dependent and easier-to-control Metaxas rather than with unreliable politicians. The seeming miscalculation of the politicians was a consequence of Page 67 →their resistance to the idea of collaborating with nonelite groups. Allying with the king guaranteed a more restricted form of regime, in which they could take part and continue to suppress the lower class. Thus, the opposition to Metaxas was not necessarily an opposition to authoritarianism, and this kind of hostility led—ironically—to the consolidation, rather than the demise, of the regime. The last significant elite group that Metaxas could rely on was the business community. In the 1930s, businesspeople increasingly became disillusioned with the republican and royalist governments, which could not deal effectively with the economy and the labor unrest. The refusal of the last Venizelos government to leave the gold standard, combined with the policy of import restrictions, adversely affected merchants, bankers, and industrialists dependent on cheap credit. Overall, business bankruptcies increased during Venizelos’s last administration, and with the increases in labor unrest, the businesspeople-Venizelist alliance crumbled at the beginning of the 1930s.73 After the royalists came to power in 1933, the businesspeople realized that the alternative government did not hold out promising policies either. The government made distinctions between what it deemed viable and unviable enterprises—determined by how much the company depended on imports. This decision was not based on sound economic planning, however, since the government clung to the idea that Greece would one day return to a laissez-faire economy.74 Influential businesspeople criticized such policies and started to demand more state intervention, similar to the authoritarian regimes in Europe.75 To such dissatisfied economic elites, Metaxas promised a more planned economy that would establish autarchy, suppress the lower classes, and enforce arbitration between workers and businesspeople (in order to protect the latter) by the creation of a corporatist state. Industry, banks, and shipping benefited from the policies of the authoritarian regime. From 1936 to 1941, the profits of the industrialists increased 25 percent, and the number of new establishments increased.76 The support that Metaxas received from the business community is evidenced by the fact that some known businesspeople allied with Metaxas during his initial rise to power and took part in the authoritarian governments: among the 40 ministers, 10 percent were bankers (mostly from the National Bank), and 6 percent were businesspeople.77

Political and Economic Developments during and after the Second World War The authoritarian regime of 1936 probably would have continued for a longer period of time had it not been for the Second World War and the occupationPage 68 → by the Axis powers. While the king, part of the military organization, and the government of the country fled to Cairo as a result of the invasion, a government that took its authorization from the Axis powers was created in mainland Greece. However, most of the country was controlled by the newly established resistance organization of the National Liberation Front (EAM), which was dominated by the communists.78 The military arm of the front, the National Popular Liberation Army (ELAS), recruited and organized armed bands consisting mostly of peasants and workers and clashed with collaborationist militias and right-wing resistance groups. With the end of the occupation, the Communist Party attempted to continue holding on to power. The first conflict between ELAS and the government, which returned from Cairo, occurred when the former attacked Athens on 3 December 1944, following mass demonstrations and a general strike organized by the CP. The British troops located in Athens repulsed the communists, forcing them to sign a truce in February 1945 and leaving no choice to ELAS but to disband. After the Varkiza agreement, the rightists started to attack CP supporters, killing over 1,000 leftists, injuring close to 7,000, and arresting more than 80,000.79 Leftist gangs responded to the rightists, causing Greece to lapse into guerrilla warfare and the third phase of a long civil war that started in 1943, during the occupation years.80 Between 1946 and 1949, Greece was divided between the communists represented by the Democratic Army of Greece (DSE) and the right-wing. During the war, approximately 20,000 leftists were killed, and more than 50,000 were imprisoned. Among the rightists, around 10,000 military officers lost their lives,

31,500 were injured, and more than 5,000 went missing.81 With considerable British and (later) American financial aid, training, and strategic advice, the civil war was won by the right-wing, which established an unconsolidated democracy in 1950. Regular elections took place; however, the left was heavily repressed, and the communists were prohibited from participating in elections. After more than a decade of disruption of competitive politics due to the Metaxas regime and wars, the mainstream parties also experienced a major transformation. With the threat of a communist takeover more imminent and real, the balance shifted toward the right. As opposed to the interwar years, the monarchy became the pole that united previous royalists and some of the former Venizelists against communism. The rightist parties of this period and the National Radical Union (NRU)—after its foundation in 1955—won the majority of the seats in parliament until 1961.82 After the war, the Greek economy recovered quickly and achieved substantial growth. Indeed, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, it was second Page 69 →among the fastest-growing economies in the world. The state provided cheap credit after the war years and maintained labor wages at low levels (less than half of what the workers used to make in 1938). These policies led to a substantial increase in the number of new industrial establishments: from 1941 to 1953, a total of 40,000 new industrial companies were founded.83 However, businesspeople who had prior relations with politicians secured credit and even sometimes managed to receive “particularistic regulations and concessions often in the forms of selective exemptions from restrictive rules.”84 This meant that big industrial activities concentrated in the hands of a few businesspeople and that, similar to in the previous decades, small-scale manufacturing existed side-by-side with bigger enterprises. According to the results of a study conducted in 1961, 21 percent of the Greek industrialists were previously big merchants, and 29.5 percent had inherited their businesses from their fathers,85 which suggests that most of the industrialists at the beginning of the 1960s were a continuation of the old business community, now strengthened with more investment opportunities. The military was not immune to the changes that came with the Second World War. In fact, similar to the politicians, the members of the armed forces overwhelmingly shifted their stance to the right (with minimal representatives at the center). Leftist and republican supporters in the military, who had regained some of their influence in Cairo, were cleansed from the military, and the armed forces were restructured with the recruitment of proven rightists after the war.86 The military’s anchoring to the right-wing was done through British and American intervention, but it was due in no small part to the civil war that pitted the military against the communist insurgency. The unification of the military on the right coincided with increases in its strength. Between 1948 and 1952, almost half of state spending was on the military; this figure constituted 9.4 percent of the GNP.87 Additionally, during the civil war, the military received $353.6 million in assistance from the United States. Foreign aid not only paid for arms supplies but also provided for the expansion of the army, from around 98,000 soldiers at the end of 1946 to 150,000 officers in the army, more than 14,000 in the navy, and 7,500 in the air force by 1948.88 Moreover, the amount of aid the armed forces received was disproportional vis-Г -vis the assistance received by other societal groups. Between 1944 and 1962, the military alone received $1,600.5 million in aid, while the entire nonmilitary aid totaled $1,918.3 million plus loans amounting to $224.2 million.89 During the years that the right-wing parties controlled politics—between 1950 and 1961—the military’s interests were safeguarded. The armed forces Page 70 →enjoyed considerable autonomy, political prerogatives on national security issues, economic resources, and power (hence the unconsolidated nature of the democratic regime). As long as the right was in power, there were no threats from the lower classes and no challenges to the interests of the military. As a result, there was no reason for the armed forces to intervene in politics overtly. However, the new autonomy, power, and right-wing stance of the military also suggested that it could consider overtly intervening if the left or the lower classes challenged the prerogatives of the armed forces.

The 1967 Unconsolidated Authoritarian Regime

The unconsolidated democratic regime came to an end in 1967 with a military intervention that lasted until 1974. On 21 April, a military conspiracy shelved parts of the constitution, declared martial law, established courtsmartial to try political crimes, banned trade unions, and brought censorship to the media. Six days later, all political parties were suspended. While Colonel Papadopoulos, the effective leader of the regime, gathered military and political authority in his hands, the revolutionary council, made up of around 15 military officers, acted as the cabinet. The leadership of the regime handpicked local officials and selected voters who elected the consultative committee. In addition, military officers or people close to the colonels were placed in state enterprises, private and public associations, and the church. In 1973, the core group of leaders was overthrown by one of their colleagues, Brigadier General Dimitrios Ioannidis, who granted General Faidon Gizikis the presidency and reassigned governmental posts to new ministers.90 Between 1967 and 1974, the rulers of the regime either came from the military institution or were determined by the military insurgents. As Nikiforos Diamandouros asserts, “The fundamental weakness of the colonels’ regime was its failure to consolidate, to institutionalize and to legitimate itself.”91 In fact, despite the rulers’ attempts and calls to the politicians to collaborate with them, influential leaders of the right, center, and left preferred and worked for the reestablishment of democracy. The rulers also faced resistance from citizens, who, until 1973, engaged in lowkey protests. In November 1973, the students of the Athens Polytechnic occupied the university and rebelled against the rulers. The protests lasted three days, until the military repressed them. Unlike previous acts of resistance, the uprising was followed by a hard-liner countercoup (led by Ioannidis) and increases in repression. The resistance that occurred during the regime, particularly the Polytechnic revolt, indicates that a significant portion of the population Page 71 →imagined acting outside of the framework of the authoritarian regime and regarded its institutions as illegitimate. As table 3.3 summarizes, the events that led to the colonels’ takeover can be traced back to 1961, when a group of parties, from the moderate right to the left, merged to form the Center Union (CU), headed by Georgios Papandreou. The CU increased its power with every election and gained more than half of the votes in 1964, receiving the mandate to form the government. Ideologically, as its name suggests, the CU was a party of the center, although it did not refrain from attacking the right-wing, the military, and the king with its “unyielding struggle.” From the very beginning, the party also included left-wing factions, which increased their visibility, especially after Georgios Papandreou’s son, Andreas, became a party minister and advocated policies that were similar to the political aims of the United Democratic Left (UDL).92 The electoral base of the CU was not necessarily leftist but mainly came from those who were jaded by the repression of the right. During the 1950s and 1960s, employment, access to education, state loans, and even driver’s licenses depended on certificates of “national-mindedness”—that is, proof of anticommunism.93 The CU and its unyielding struggle against the state and the rightists held out the promise of liberalization for the portion of the electorate that was systematically excluded. The CU also received support from the laboring class, which resented the fact that increasing production levels were not reflected in their living conditions. The governments of the 1960s continued the economic policies of the previous decade, and Greece’s annual GDP growth rates between 1961 and 1966 averaged more than 7 percent.94 The economy was further industrialized, and the share of industry in the GNP surpassed that of agriculture for the first time in 1962. With foreign direct investment in key sectors, the focus on consumer goods started to gradually shift toward production of capital goods.95 However, discrepancies within the laboring class reflected the differences in the size of establishments and the imbalanced and limited nature of the Greek economy. Workers in large enterprises and in sectors that required skilled labor earned better incomes than workers in small enterprises.96 More generally, income distribution was highly unequal in Greece and was reinforced by regressive taxation. While 15.1 percent of the households earned 1.32 percent of the national income, 7.1 percent of the households earned 37.69 percent of the income.97 Coupled with the exclusion of a section of the population for being nonrightist, significant portions of the disadvantaged electorate started to support the CU. The dissatisfied groups began to show their resentment not only at the Page 73 →ballot box but also in the streets, by engaging in demonstrations and strikes. From 1960 to 1966, the number of days lost in strikes was multiplied

almost by eight.98 Students also organized: “In the 1960s [the university] became the terrain par excellence for exercising pressure on the state to democratize and distribute funds more fairly. A cycle of protest began that would last until the 1967 coup.”99 Significant demonstrations against the right-wing started in the early 1960s and increased in force even further with every government crisis. From Papandreou’s withdrawal from premiership in 1965 until the military intervention of April 1967, there were riots nearly every day in Athens, giving the impression that political parties were unable to control the move toward anarchy.100 Page 72 →Table 3.3. Summary Analysis of the Greek Regime in 1967–74 High Costs of Toleration in the 1960s and early 1970s Elites threatened? Yes Perception of threat to the political The king and the military restricted the authority of the political parties elites’ interests Perception of threat to the Political parties and majority of the electorate wanted to curtail the prerogatives of the military’s military interests Perception of threat to the No significant threats businessmen’s interests Elites threatened Yes—military versus political parties; the king versus political parties by each other? A significant portion of the electorate From the perception of the military conspirators, Yes, the electorate would vote for a party expected to vote that could curtail its prerogatives; but from the perception of political and economic elites, for radical parties the CU was not radical that could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening Yes—demonstrations against the king and the military and against unbalanced growth contentious action? Outcome Authoritarianism Moderate Costs of Suppression between 1967 and 1974 The colonels had more power than Yes the opposition? Threat of external wars led to increased American military aid and assistance due to the Cold War resources for the military

Proper planning of the military Yes—use of a NATO plan intervention Power of the lower High compared with the previous decades but low compared with the military classes Alliance between the lower classes Yes—some of the influential political elites formed resistance organizations and/or and opposition supported the student rebellion in 1973 elites Transition from the last regime The colonels had support from the other elites? Support /collaboration of the political elites Support of the business community Unified military? Elites signaled their opposition at the beginning Other military officers on the bandwagon at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits within the military

Military gained power and autonomy after the civil war No

No

No No No

Yes

Yes—the intervention was against the military hierarchy, and the king withdrew his support; in particular, the navy and the air force were against the regime; splits among the colonels Unconsolidated Outcome in Significant political elites had pro-democratic preferences + Rebellions against the power authoritarianism holders By the accounts of Andreas Papandreou, there were 400 demonstrations in the summer of 1965 in Athens, including the following major events. When Georgios Papandreou went to his offices in Athens on 19 July 1965, he was greeted by “an ocean of people—probably more than one million,” protesting against the king’s decision to dismiss him from office. Another demonstration took place two days later, with the participation of the youth organization of the CU and the Lambrakis Youth. There were clashes with the police, 150 people were injured, and one student was killed. During that student’s funeral, “thousands of Athenians joined the procession to pay homage to the young man.” On 27 July, the trade unions organized a general strike in six cities. On 9 August, more than 10,000 people gathered in front of the building where the CU parliamentary group met, in order to provide support. When a government was formed by the CU renegades on 20 August, “violent clashes” took place among demonstrators in Athens and the police.101 For some, the events of 1965 signified the start and then the loss of a revolutionary moment.102 From the perception of putschist military officers, the threat of mass mobilization went hand in hand with the dangers that the CU posed to the military’s corporate interests. When in government, the CU cut down military spending from 4.2 percent of the GNP in 1961 to 3.5 percent in 1965.103 Moreover, the party called for

the democratization of the armed forces, the abolishment of the right of the military to vote in the national elections, and the curtailment of its autonomy from civilian rule.104 The unity of the military was challenged by revelations of two conspiracies, both involving the CU. The rightist one, uncovered by the Pericles report, accused top-ranking military officers of rigging the elections in 1961 against the CU, and the leftist plot, called Aspida, was presumably led by Andreas Papandreou.105 The Aspida affair led to two separate government crises, resulting in the resignation of Georgios Papandreou in 1965 and the fall of the caretaker government in 1967.106 Page 74 →Interviews conducted with 100 military officers from various ranks in the army during the initial years of the authoritarian regime demonstrate that the coup makers’ intervention and the interviewed officers’ support of it were based on perceptions of a communist threat and crises caused by the politicians.107 It does not seem likely that there was a real communist threat at the time, especially given that the CU leadership was not communist and that one of the primary concerns of the lower classes that supported the CU was to lift the restrictions against the alleged leftists. However, when the theory advanced in chapter 2 is applied, the distinction between the communist threat and the danger from the CU as a mainstream party that would lead to increased democratization becomes less relevant. In both cases, the coup makers believed that their prerogatives would be lost by a party that had the backing of a significant portion of the electorate. Supporters of the party and other disgruntled groups were also mobilized, especially on the streets of Athens, and engaged in contentious politics. Thus, the costs of toleration were high for the colonels. The putschists faced moderate costs of suppression. They commanded a disunited military from the very beginning, although they successfully utilized the disproportionate resources of the armed forces and a NATO plan designed to be used only in case of a communist takeover.108 The regime was established outside of the military hierarchy, by around 20 middle-ranking officers. The insurgents sidestepped their generals, who had been waiting for the right moment to stage their own intervention.109 During the insurgency, the navy and air force did not join the sections of the army that staged the intervention, nor did the navy and air force later participate in governing the country.110 These unsupporting parts of the military attempted a military coup in December 1967 and another in May 1973. The 1967 countercoup was carried out under the leadership of King Constantine, who at first appeared together with the putschists in a publicized photo and gave the signal to his supporters that he was behind the colonels.111 He changed his stance in the upcoming months, and although he was forced to flee the country, his resistance deepened the split in the military, by making the authoritarian regime illegitimate in the eyes of some of the military officers. The 1973 countercoup was executed by most of the navy officers,112 and despite its failure, it also had the significant result of aggravating the conflicts among the rulers. The countercoup of the navy caused the soft-liners led by Papadopoulos to start a liberalization process, which involved the lifting of martial law and the entering of civilians in the administration. With the active support of politicians such as Kanellopoulos and Zigdis, the students of the Polytechnic saw an opportunityPage 75 → and revolted in November 1973.113 This revolt became the last straw for the hard-liners in the junta, who took over the government through an internal coup.114 The colonels were not only troubled by their military colleagues. They had intervened in the name of protecting the right-wing from a communist revolution, but none of the rightist elites seemed to agree with their assessment. The founder of the NRU, Karamanlis, was vocal in his criticisms, from self-imposed exile in Europe.115 Remaining in Greece, the last prime minister, Kanellopoulos, was also active in his opposition.116 In 1969, he started to undertake the leadership of a group of 170 former parliamentary deputies from various party backgrounds. This group was later joined by Karamanlis and King Constantine, demanded the holding of immediate free and fair elections, and started to publish a periodical.117 The opposition of the politicians was significant in hallowing out the 1973 liberalization scheme. Only the leader of a small right-wing party agreed to take part in the elections. The majority of the political elite declined to cooperate with the plan and warned the public against the nondemocratic intentions of the rulers.118 Moreover, center and left-wing politicians, sometimes in collaboration with academics and members of the judiciary, established their own resistance organizations—the most significant one certainly being Andreas Papandreous’s Panhellenic Liberation Movement, founded overseas.119

Since the CU was not attempting to change the socioeconomic structure of the country, the business community did not have any reason to prefer authoritarianism over democracy prior to 1967.120 Although GDP rates continued to grow until the oil crisis under the colonels, this was mainly due to the expansion of the construction and tourism sectors, and the manufacturing sector was worse off.121 My interviews with 21 businesspeople demonstrate that the business community was not threatened by the CU. I asked, “In the 1960s, how did you feel about democracy?” Only one businessman said that there was a leftist threat. In fact, almost half of the respondents talked about government instability, political parties, and corruption as the negative aspects of democracy during the 1960s. Seventeen respondents cited problems related to the unconsolidated nature of democracy: the involvement of the king, exclusion of the left from politics, lack of freedom, and so on. These factors would cause the economic elites to oppose the colonels. Not surprisingly, only 5 businesspeople among 25 interviewees felt positive when the colonels intervened in 1967, and only 1 respondent continued to endorse authoritarianism in 1974.122 By refusing to cooperate with the regime in governing the country or by shying away from highly supportive statements in the press, the economic elites took Page 76 →from the colonels one of the main means of consolidation. Although only a few courageous businesspeople were directly involved with resistance against the colonels,123 their decision to keep their distance strengthened the hands of the right-wing political elite. For the authoritarian regime to collapse, the balance of power had to shift in favor of the pro-democratic forces that had been snowballing since 1967. This opportunity came with the Cyprus crisis in the summer of 1974, which brought Greece to the brink of war with Turkey. Cyprus became the spark that accentuated the colonels’ lack of support, and the debacle against the Turkish armed forces increased the strength of the opposing military officers and civilians relative to the colonels.124 On 22 July 1974, the Third Army Corps, located in Salonika, gave an ultimatum to the colonels, calling for the creation of the Council of National Salvation, which would include politicians and military officers. Fearing a domestic revolt and a humiliating defeat against Turkey, the colonels acquiesced. In the post-1974 era, the undignified collapse of the authoritarian regime and the consequent weaknesses of the military became important elements in facilitating the consolidation of democracy. In this chapter, I analyzed three different regimes in Greece: the unconsolidated democracy period of the interwar years, the consolidated authoritarian regime of Metaxas, and the unconsolidated authoritarian regime of 1967. Elite split had been the primary characteristic of Greek politics from independence until the collapse of the colonels’ junta. The conflict between the elites was coupled with lower-class activism starting in the 1930s. The majority of the political and economic elites united around Metaxas and the king and repressed the left before it increased its power further. Axis occupation provided a temporary opportunity for the left to regain its strength, only to be defeated by the civil war. The right-wing and the military reached their zenith of power in the 1950s but gradually lost their grandeur in the 1960s, leading a group of colonels to intervene to prevent the political demise of the armed forces. However, a significant portion of the elite already had pro-democratic preferences in that decade, so the authoritarian regime could not garner support. As I will analyze in chapter 5, this helped democracy to consolidate in Greece in the 1980s.

Page 77 →

4. Turkey between 1923 and 1983 From the Republic to Military Tutelage The Turkish Republic was founded after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in the wake of the First World War. On 24 July 1923, the Lausanne Convention ended the war for the Ankara government and marked the international recognition of the new state. The regime of the republic became authoritarian and consolidated in the 1930s, until the strengthening of the business elites in the mid-1940s. Turkey made a transition to democracy in 1950 and did not revert to full authoritarianism again. Despite many years of free and fair elections, however, the regime failed to consolidate. Most significantly, the military exerted its influence in politics through tutelary powers and reserve domains, particularly on security matters. The armed forces also suspended democracy for short periods of time by staging coups in 1960 and 1980. Two other times in Turkish history, in 1971 and 1997, the military intervened in democratic practices and toppled freely elected civilian governments. In this chapter, I first trace the causes of the authoritarian regime and its consolidation between 1923 and 1946. Then I examine the reasons behind the unconsolidated democracy of 1950 and the military interventions until the last overt coup of 1980. I explain and discuss the 1997 intervention and more contemporary developments in chapter 6.

The First Phase of Single-Party Rule: The Unconsolidated Authoritarian Regime between 1923 and 1931 In September 1923, just a few months after Lausanne, the elite group responsible for the founding of the Turkish Republic established the Republican People’s Party (RPP), which single-handedly dominated Turkish politics for the subsequent two decades. The regime that the RPP established was authoritarian,Page 78 → primarily because elections for parliament were indirect and designed to ensure victories for the RPP.1 Yet, as Linz argued, the regime was not totalitarian and allowed for limited pluralism.2 The national assembly did not truly restrict the authoritarian regime, but its existence prevented the emergence of a dictator with unlimited powers and, at least, caused the rulers to try to explain and justify their policies. The leaders of the regime came from a single party: while, until his death in 1938, Mustafa Kemal AtatГјrk was the president of the Turkish state and the RPP, the vice president of the party, Д°smet Д°nГ¶nГј, acted as the prime minister (except for a brief interlude in 1924).3 Until 1931, the regime was unconsolidated. First, a significant minority of the political elite did not perceive authoritarianism as the only legitimate framework. These politicians split from the RPP and formed the Progressive Republican Party and the Free Republican Party in 1924 and 1930 respectively. The lives of both parties were brief, but their existence indicates that an elite group had pro-democratic preferences. Second, during this period, the power holders faced at least nine rebellions and several riots against some of their secular policies.4 These insurgences had important nationwide effects, leading the authoritarian government to augment coercion. In 1925, the government enacted the law on maintenance of order and established the eastern and Ankara independence tribunals to prosecute the insurgents. These legal measures gave the administration virtually unconstrained authority everywhere, allowing the disturbances to be put down and the press to be silenced. As table 4.1 shows, the RPP elites were relatively stronger than other social groups. Due to a process that started in the early 19th century, Turkey inherited from the Ottoman Empire a social structure characterized by the unequivocal dominance of the military and the political elite.5 Although the Ottoman leaders left the country following defeat in the First World War, the army and the grassroots of the Committee of Union and Progress (CUP), which had dominated the Ottoman parliament, were regrouped by Kemal AtatГјrk.6 In the new parliament that opened in Ankara on 23 April 1920, “the first group” represented mostly AtatГјrk’s allies. By the time new elections were held for the parliament in 1923, this group succeeded in expelling the Allied forces and in eradicating the power of the already weakened Ottoman elites, including the sultan, religious ulema leaders, and the “second group” in the Ankara parliament.7

Once the Ottoman elites lost their influence, no other social group was left to curtail the dominance of the new Turkish elite, now organized under the RPP. An aristocratic landowning class did not exist in the majority of Turkish territories, due to the administrative structure of the Ottoman Empire and the 19th-century attempts of Mahmut II to regain central authority Page 79 →over local notables, called ayans, who functioned primarily as tax intermediaries.8 Consequently, there was not a noteworthy group of landless peasants. In 1930, only 5.5 percent of the households did not own land,9 which contravened the emergence of a peasant movement against the socioeconomic structure. There were two exceptional regions where local notables had influence and where larger estates existed. In the predominantly Kurdish east, the power of the tribal sheikhs derived partially from their traditional and religious authority; as a result, they had higher levels of control over the peasants. In the Aegean and Mediterranean regions (including Adana), the penetration of the world economy and the subsequent commercialization of agriculture led to the creation of larger estates. Yet these exceptions did not change the common pattern. Studies conducted in the 1930s reported 418 estates with more than 500 hectares, occupying 6 percent of all cultivated land and 0.7 percent of all the estates at that time.10 In the early years of the republic, there was no substantial industrial production and, thus, no significant laboring class.11 Naturally, there was no industrial or commercial elite that could balance the power of the RPP either. The Ottoman business class primarily consisted of the Christian population of the empire, who mediated between Anatolian small farmers and the European markets.12 During and after the First World War, however, the Christian population of Anatolia almost completely disappeared, through death, forced migration, and the exchange of populations between Greece and Turkey. While 18 percent of the population of Turkish territories was non-Muslim before the war, only 2.6 percent was in 1927. According to Г‡aДџlar Keyder’s estimates, that meant the dissipation of “90 percent of the pre-war” economic elites.13 As summarized in table 4.1, even though there were no counterelites and the majority of the peasants were not organized, the electorate was still expected to oust the RPP elites from power if and when free and fair elections were held. The RPP and its secularist reforms did not have any backing from the conservative peasants. Since the Ottoman system relied on religion, the new elite sought “assertive secularism,” which tried to eliminate the public visibility of Islam altogether.14 In September 1925, religious schools, which consisted of an important part of the life of the villagers, were closed down. Three months later, the state outlawed the wearing of the traditional robe and fez, requiring everyone to wear the Western hat and cap. The next year, the Turkish Republic adopted the European calendar, outlawed the use of unofficial titles in front of names, prohibited religious marriage, and banned polygamy. The implications of these reforms need no explanation: all the practices of peasants were changed almost overnight. Thus, as Ећerif Mardin argues, the rural population was simply “denied the haven of its religious culture.”15 The disdain of most of the population all over the country was evident from the sporadic insurgencies that the RPP faced. The better-organized rebellions of this period came from the eastern regions, where the combination of ethnic differences with religious reactions allowed tribal leaders to lead more sustained forms of contentious action against the RPP. Contempt for the new elites was also apparent from the support mustered by short-term opposition parties. Page 80 → Table 4.1. Summary Analysis of the Turkish Regime in 1923–46 High Costs of Toleration between 1923 and1946 Elites Yes threatened? Perception of threat to the Their elite status and reforms were threatened by an unsupportive electorate and opposing RPP political parties elites’ interests

Perception of threat to the Opposition could eliminate the privileges of the military; rebellions required the repression of the military’s military interests Elites threatened Yes—the creation of the Progressive and Free Parties by each other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote for Yes—under free elections, they would vote for religious groups against the secular order radical parties that could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening Yes—sustained movements only in the east, but sporadic protests around the country until 1931 contentious action? Outcome Authoritarianism Costs of Suppression Moderate between 1923 and 1930 The RPP elite had more power than the opposition? Societal dislocation eliminated an elite group Power of the lower classes

Yes

Low between 1931 and 1946

Yes

During the reform period in the Ottoman Empire, most of the landed elites were eliminated; due to the First World War, the Christian economic elites were lost The power of the peasants was restricted

Limited but Alliance between manifest the lower classes support for the No opposition party formed and opposition Progressive and elites Free Parties Collapse of the Ottoman Transition from Empire left the Elimination of the opposition parties by the end of 1930 and repression of the the last regime RPP elites and rebellions increased the power of the RPP elites and the military the military more powerful

The RPP elite had support from other elites?

No

Support of the military

No—the hierarchy of the military supportive, but Yes there were military officers among the Progressives

Yes

No—two opposition Support parties, /collaboration of Progressive and Yes—the RPP remained unified the political elites Free Parties, were established against the RPP Page 81 →Unified No Yes military? During the opposition of Soft-liner versus the hard-liner splits Progressives, No splits among officers within the some influential military generals split off from the rest of the military Unconsolidated Significant political elites Consolidated had proOutcome in All significant elites abided by the rules and institutions of the regime + No democratic authoritarianism significant rebellions against the power holders + Preemptive action against preferences + possible revolts Rebellions against the power holders The relative strength of the RPP vis-Г -vis other social groups did not mean that the dominant elite group was unified in its core interests and policy choices. Once the common foreign and domestic enemies that brought these elites together were eliminated between 1920 and 1923, important differences among them surfaced. The top leadership of the RPP—especially AtatГјrk and his close associates—were gradually increasing their power and influence in political matters. For a group of military and civilian heroes of the independence war, this meant their subordination to their colleagues.16 The opposition split from the RPP, and 29 deputies (44 percent of them from military origins) established the Progressive Republican Party (PRP) in November 1924.17 The Progressives promoted gradual reform and supported democratic principles, such as neutral presidency, separation of powers, and direct elections. In the by-elections for the parliament, the PRP supported independents, and an opposition candidate won in one of the cities.18 The PRP’s existence also encouraged protests against the regime and contributed to the emergence of an

unconsolidated authoritarian regime. The first rebellion of this period, Nasturi, surfaced in Hakkari and coincided with the preparations of the new opposition party.19 One of the most serious rebellionsPage 82 → of this period, the Sheikh Said insurgency, was planned at around the same time, when the opposition within the RPP became public.20 The uprising took place three months after the creation of the PRP and convinced the RPP that the “experiment” with democracy must come to an end. The government repressed the insurgencies, closed down the PRP, and executed six of the party leaders.21 After the suspension of the Progressives in 1925, there was no official opposition party against the RPP until 1930. Due to worsening economic conditions resulting from the weather and the Great Depression, opposition against the government headed by Prime Minister Д°nГ¶nГј grew.22 With President AtatГјrk’s encouragement, 15 deputies joined the Free Republican Party (FRP), which was founded by a close friend of the president, Fethi Okyar. The party program differed from the RPP mostly in economic policies,23 but it also advocated direct elections, called for “freer exchange of ideas,”24 and demonstrated liberal political tendencies. The creation of the FRP resulted in protests against the RPP, especially in regions where the effects of the economic crisis were severe, such as the Aegean coast.25 The FRP won in several provinces in the October local elections, despite repression exercised by the RPP. Seeing the heavy-handed response of the government, however, the FRP dissolved itself.26 Insurgencies continued for a while, and a group of extremists in the western province of Menemen violently proclaimed the return of Islamic law in December 1930. The government responded by declaring martial law, imprisoning 41 people and executing 35.27 In repressing the opposition, the RPP collaborated with the military. In the early years of the republic, the military and political elites were fused into a single group, since officers could also hold parliamentary positions. The first step toward the official separation of the military institution from politics took place after the PRP was formed in collaboration with several military heroes of the Turkish War of Independence. In an effort to keep the opposition from spreading further in the military, AtatГјrk enforced the already existing rule that deputies who also held army positions must resign from one of their posts.28 Although their opposition marked a split in the military hierarchy, the Progressives could not persuade the general staff to switch sides.29 Ultimately, the coalition between the RPP and the military survived the elite splits. Throughout this period, the armed forces helped the civilians in suppressing the opposition, and the latter granted autonomy and tutelary powers to the former. The approval of the general staff was sought before political reforms were carried out, and the military hierarchy had a say on significant policies. The general staff made almost all of the decisions regarding military matters on its own and was kept out of parliamentary oversight Page 83 →by being directly tied to the president. The autonomy granted to the military by the RPP guaranteed the protection of the corporate interests of the armed forces and their support for the authoritarian regime, especially after the PRP was dissolved.30

The Second Phase of Single-Party Rule: The Consolidated Authoritarian Regime between 1931 and 1946 The second phase of RPP rule did not change much from the earlier period in terms of its authoritarian nature. The basic tenets of the elections remained the same: primary electors chose secondary electors, who, in turn, elected the parliamentary deputies that were nominated by the RPP. One difference with the elections was that, starting from 1931, the RPP deliberately failed to nominate deputies for 30 parliamentary posts, which were left open for independents. In 1939, the independents were abolished; in their place, an independent group was created within the party. However, the existence of the independents and the independent group only allowed for limited pluralism, as in a typical authoritarian regime. They did not have any substantial roles, and similar to the previous period, the RPP dominated the policy-making process.31 The vice president of the RPP, İsmet İnönü, continued to hold the position of prime minister until 1937. After Atatürk’s death in 1938, İnönü became the chairman of the party and the president of the Turkish Republic, assuming the title “chief of the nation.” Both presidents of the regime were former military generals, and they had a close working relationship with their longtime colleague General Fevzi Çakmak, who served as the chief of staff until 1944. Thus, the organic relation between the military and the power holders

continued, making the armed forces the backbone of the authoritarian regime until the Second World War. When compared with the period prior to 1931, the most important difference was the consolidated nature of the authoritarian regime. While there were no significant elites with pro-democratic preferences until 1946, the rebellions that had occurred frequently in the past ceased abruptly in the 1930s. According to the official publication of the General Staff War History Department, two incidents occurred in the 1930s. The first, the Sason rebellions, actually started during the Sheikh Said rebellion in 1925. From 1930 onward, the region displayed “disobedience,” especially against the government’s policy of preventing future rebellions by forcing the people in the region to migrate to western Turkey.32 The second incident of this period, the military operation in Dersim, was Page 84 →preceded by a law in December 1935 that “granted the government emergency powers to administer the area” and changed the name of the region to Tunceli.33 The reason for this new law was also to prevent a possible future rebellion. When compared with the Sheikh Said rebellion in 1924, it becomes clear that the passing of the Tunceli Law signified the unification of the elite and lower levels of costs of suppression. All but one of the articles of the Tunceli Law were accepted without discussion in the parliament.34 In contrast, the laws that were enacted after the initiation of the Sheikh Said rebellion produced heated debates among the deputies, because the Progressive Republican Party opposed taking any nationwide measures.35 Thus, while preemptive measures in the 1930s were passed in the parliament rather easily, laws enacted after the rebellion in the 1920s pointed out the elite split in the assembly. The first resistance in the region started when the military attempted to enforce the law in 1937. The confrontation took the form of guerrilla fighting between military forces and bandits.36 If it were not for the coercive capabilities of the military and the elite who agreed to take preemptive measures, prolonged cycles of rebellions against the state would possibly occur, similar to the insurgencies of the 1920s in the same region. However, in contrast to the rebellions of the previous episode, the events were repressed with the almost total crushing of the Kurdish inhabitants of the area and without any national-level measures. In terms of their broader repercussions and numbers, the 1930s in Turkey witnessed fewer contentious politics and more subservience. Yet acquiescence did not necessarily mean support. The predominantly rural population of the country continued to view the leaders of the regime with scorn, which explains the continuation of authoritarianism in the 1930s and early 1940s. The rulers attempted to gain the allegiance of the lower classes by creating a new and concise ideology, which would subsequently be called Kemalism. The RPP accepted the emblem of six arrows as its ideology, with each arrow representing republicanism, nationalism, populism, etatism, secularism, and revolutionism. Naturally, these principles were interpreted in a way that justified the regime. For instance, revolutionism stressed the continuation of Kemalist reformism and its modernization program, but not social mobilization. Similarly, the definition of populism rejected the idea that there were different classes in Turkey and declared that the single party represented the whole nation.37 This classless conception of society was in tune with the interests of elites, including the nascent businesspeople. Etatism was also an important element that glued the economic and political elites together. The main tenets of this policy were keeping a stable foreign exchange rate (with a commitment to the gold standard) and maintainingPage 85 → a balanced budget. The state envisioned realizing these goals by interventionist policies and enacted the law on the protection of Turkish currency, which allowed the state to control international capital movements, centralize the allocation of foreign currency, and restrict imports, by issuing licenses.38 These policies, aimed at macroeconomic stability, were well received by the industrial businesspeople, who came into existence during this period gradually, with the help of state encouragement. However, the business community was concerned with the limits of the intervention of the state.39 The main cause of anxiety was the existence of two groups within the RPP who interpreted etatism in diverse ways. The first group of politicians, led by Д°nГ¶nГј, advocated more state intervention and believed that “strategically important fields of economic activity” must be carried out by the state. Conversely, the second group, formed around the general director of the state-sponsored Business Bank, Celal Bayar, represented relatively liberal views and believed that the state must intervene only in areas that the private sector cannot enter.40 Despite the existence of the interventionist faction within the RPP, etatism was not used against the business community until

the 1940s. On at least two occasions, AtatГјrk sided with Bayar, appointing him as the prime minister in 1937 and making sure that etatism would benefit private capital.41 State initiatives in the economy were confined to building infrastructure and producing the necessary raw and intermediary materials for private enterprises. The state sold its products below market prices and therefore guaranteed profitable earnings to private initiatives that could turn them into consumer goods at regular prices. Through its banks, the state lent affordable credit to businesspeople who were willing to invest in new sectors and reduce Turkey’s dependence on foreign imports.42 The policy to encourage the use of raw materials in the industrial sector benefited the commercialized farmers of Adana and the Aegean as well. Some agricultural products (e.g., cotton, grapes, and tobacco) were purchased by the state; others were used by the private industries. As Bayar argued in 1936, the industrialization drive cushioned the effects of the Great Depression and the fall of agricultural prices in the external market.43 As a consequence, while state enterprises increased in numbers, private initiatives also grew. The average industrial growth during the 1930–39 period was 10.3 percent.44 By 1941, the number of privately owned factories that used mechanical energy and a substantial labor force had risen to 1,052.45 Subsequently, the number of workers employed in manufacturing increased to 427,000 by the end of the decade.46 Ironically, the end of the authoritarian regime in Turkey originated primarily with the economic elites. During and after the Second World War, the Page 86 →government enacted laws that estranged the business class from the politicians. The Capital Tax Law of 1942, which obligated non-Muslim businesspeople to pay heavy taxes and to serve in labor camps unless they failed to discharge their debts, resulted in the alienation of commercial and industrial elites in general.47 The landowners, too, came to realize that the policies of the RPP could be threatening. A new agricultural tax was introduced in 1944, and a new law for the confiscation and redistribution of land was passed in parliament in 1945. Although the land reform law mostly affected lands larger than 500 hectares, it allowed for the appropriation of smaller lands in certain regions, intimidating not only the large landowners but also middle-class peasants.48 Parliamentary opposition to the RPP followed immediately after the land law. Four deputies split from the RPP and formed the Democratic Party (DP) in January 1946. One of the leaders of the party was Celal Bayar, and another was Adnan Menderes—a deputy whose family owned large estates in the Aegean region.49 Given the party’s leadership and the origins of its foundation, it is not surprising that it quickly received financial and political backing from other economic elites, such as the newly founded Istanbul Merchant Association.50 At first, the RPP reacted to the creation of the DP by attempting to use repression. There were allegations that the RPP meddled with the outcome of the July 1946 parliamentary elections, in which the DP won 66 out of 465 seats.51 Subsequently, the RPP government declared other opposition parties, unions, newspapers, and journals illegal.52 Two developments altered the repressive policies of the RPP. First, in its 1947 and 1949 conventions, the DP leadership threatened to mobilize the masses, in order to force the hands of the RPP to accept an elite transfer of power.53 Second, lower-ranking officers in the military began to side with the DP, due, primarily, to problems in promotional opportunities. Although Turkey did not enter the Second World War, it had also shown the weaknesses of the Turkish Armed Forces in terms of weapon supplies and equipment. Moreover, the RPP reversed the highly autonomous position of the general staff, by bringing it under the control of the Ministry of National Defense in 1949. Conspiracies and plots began in the military, with the intent of staging a coup unless the RPP held free and fair elections in 1950.54 The most important event that signified the liberalization of the regime was a declaration by President Д°nГ¶nГј in July 1947, demonstrating his neutrality between the two parties. With the initiative of President Д°nГ¶nГј, the DP signed a document showing, in its essence, that the party agreed not to step outside the law.55 The decision of Д°nГ¶nГј, as the leader of the authoritarian regime, was undoubtedlyPage 87 → critical in leading to a peaceful transition. Д°nГ¶nü’s compromise is usually attributed to Turkey’s desire to ally with the West following Soviet threats on Turkish soil. However, the July 1947 speech came after Turkey became a member of the United Nations and a few months after President Truman delivered his famous speech in the US Congress promising military and economic aid to Greece and Turkey. Thus, the calculation to open up the regime reflected

domestic changes more than international ones.56 By 1950, the government had two options: it could either suppress the Democratic Party or make a transition to democracy. The first option was risky, because the RPP no longer had the full support of the military and the economic elites. A repressive stance could have led to a revolution from above (by the Democratic Party and the military) and could have endangered the future well-being and security of the members of the RPP. The option of democracy was less risky. Despite threats that it would mobilize the masses, the DP did not incite rebellions and gave assurances that it would protect the Kemalist reforms. Given that the leaders of the party were former RPP deputies, these promises looked credible.57 In a democratic regime, the RPP had a chance to survive, elect members to the parliament, and even win the elections in the subsequent years. Consequently, the leadership of the RPP chose the option of democracy over repression, stepped down, and allowed a transition to democracy in the aftermath of the May 1950 elections.

The First Decade of Unconsolidated Democracy and the 1960 Coup The democracy that was established after the 1950 elections was unconsolidated, even though at least three parties competed in the three elections that took place until 1960. Yet the ruling Democratic Party clearly did not view democracy as the “only game in town.” Especially toward the end of the decade, the government exercised considerable pressure on other political parties and threatened their survival. In the 1957 elections, there were allegations that the DP rigged the results in some electoral districts and created unfavorable conditions for the opposition throughout the day of the elections.58 As the DP tilted toward repression, the opposition parties, particularly the RPP, began to call for a military intervention. The armed forces did not exercise tutelary powers or have any reserve domains; however, the lower-ranking officers, who had grievances against the rule of the DP, organized military cliques for the purposes of a coup d’état. The threat of a military intervention materialized on 27 May 1960, when a group of mutineers took over the government (see table 4.2 for a summary of the reasons behind the coup). Page 88 → Table 4.2. Summary Analysis of the 1960 Coup in Turkey Moderate Costs of Toleration between 1950 and 1960 Elites Yes threatened? Perception of threat to the For the lower-ranking officers: loss of income, prestige, and autonomy and promotional military’s obstacles interests Perception of threat to the political DP versus RPP: challenges to reelection, holding office, and security elites’ interests Perception of threat to the business Economic crisis and uncertainty for the businessmen that were not close to the DP community’s interests Elites threatened by Yes each other?

A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote No—the Democrats received votes as a mainstream party for radical parties that could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening No contentious action? Unconsolidated Democracy with Coups Outcome Procedural conditions partially fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal support and mutual distrust Costs of Suppression in the 1960s  The military clique had more power than the opposition? Threat of external wars led to increased resources for the military Proper planning of the military intervention Power of the lower classes

Moderate in 1960

Yes

High in 1962 and 1963

No

Yes—American military aid due to the Cold War

Yes

No

Low

Low

No—the DP elites Alliance could not between the find the lower classes opportunity No and DP to mobilize against the their intervention supporters against the coup Transition from the last Not The alliance between the political elites and military chiefs had already repressed military applicable some of the radical officers intervention

The military clique had No No support from other elites? Alienation Support of the RPP, /collaboration especially at No of the the political elites beginning Policies of the National Support of the Union business Committee No community threatened the businessmen Page 89 →Unified No No military? Elites signaled their No Yes opposition at the beginning Military officers on the Yes No bandwagon at the beginning Yes—in the National Union Committee, Soft-liner Union of versus hardArmed Yes—the generals were against the coup and cooperated with the political elites to liner splits Forces, and repress the attempt within the between the military lower- and higherranking officers Fragile Coup Officers captured the government but failed to Failed Coup Outcome realize their The clique failed to capture the government main goal; the DP elites reorganized under the Justice Party

and took part in the 1961 coalition government The DP’s vote base was the peasants, who constituted around 70 percent of the population. With regard to labor, the party was repressive and continued the “populist” framework of RPP rule.59 For the conservative peasants, the party sporadically used religious propaganda but mostly relied on favorable agricultural policies.60 The DP increased the number of tractors used in cultivation, provided cheap credit to farmers, and maintained agricultural prices at high levels. These policies benefited not only the small- and medium-sized landholders but also the large landlords of the coastal regions, especially the cotton producers of Adana. Landlords, who accumulated wealth with almost a single harvest, managed to invest their riches in industry and, in this way, became the new influential businesspeople of Turkey. In rural areas, the DP built a cross-class coalition through growth in agriculture, which also stimulated other areas of the economy. Between 1950 and 1953, per capita income increased 28 percent, and exports increased 50 percent.61 Yet the economic miracle that rested on agriculture came to an end rather quickly, with worsening weather conditions and drops in international demand. The coupling of high rates of government investment with low levels of production in inefficient sectors resulted in increasing budget deficits and high rates of inflation.62 The appeal the party held for the business community disintegrated with the crisis and also due to economic uncertainty and ambiguity, especially in the foreign trade regime. In providing import licensesPage 90 → and foreign exchange, the party favored businesspeople who were close to the Democrats. The distribution of credit to private enterprises by the Industrial Development Bank was also subject to manipulation. The government contracted out some of its infrastructural projects and its import needs to private companies, helping a number of establishments to grow.63 The biased treatment by the government created splits within the business community. While those businesspeople who expanded their fortunes supported the Democratic Party until the very end, many who suffered from economic uncertainty and crisis opposed the Democrats.64 Elite conflict in the 1950s was particularly intense among the politicians. In 1953, during the zenith of its popularity, the Democratic Party accused the RPP of “unjustifiable acquisition” during the authoritarian regime and confiscated the properties of the party. A year later, the government prohibited nongovernment parties from using the radio. Because the DP also censored the press, the most important propaganda tools of the political parties were taken away, and the parties were effectively barred from reaching the voters. In 1956, parties were banned from holding outdoor meetings and were required to get state permission for indoor meetings. Several meetings of the RPP were prevented, and the general secretary of the party was sentenced to six months in prison for not obeying the new law. The DP also prohibited opposition parties from running together on the 1957 ballot, which facilitated the Democrats’ winning the elections again without receiving the majority of the votes. The final straw came in April 1960, when the government decided to create a parliamentary committee to investigate the activities of the RPP.65 As repression got worse, the RPP leader Д°nГ¶nГј responded to the DP in his speeches by implicitly referring to the possibility of a military intervention.66 In fact, one of the reasons why the DP increased its repressive measures against the RPP was the suspicion that Д°nГ¶nГј was preparing a military coup. Dangers to personal security were at such high levels that in 1958, Prime Minister Menderes and Д°nГ¶nГј were publicly threatening to imprison and execute one another.67 In the later 1950s, Turkish politics was in a vicious circle: while every repression by the government bred threats of a coup, references to extra-democratic means increased government coercion. The military was part of this elite conflict. Throughout its rule, the DP did not touch the unfavorable military laws enacted during the previous decade and did nothing to eliminate the problems of the officers. A few months after the DP formed the government, all of the high commanders and 150 colonels were forced to retire. The main reason for these dismissals was to cleanse the military of RPP supporters. Contrary to what was expected, Page 91

→younger officers were not promoted, because the middle and higher ranks were still inflated.68 Aside from these promotional bottlenecks, military officers complained during that decade about reductions in their pay and social status. The DP government believed that it could keep the armed forces under control only with laudatory generals on their side. However, for the lower-ranking officers, even a minister’s hand gesture to call the chief of the general staff was perceived as an offense. Prime Minister Menderes did not realize the repercussions of offending the standing army when he declared that he could run the military with reserve officers.69 Secret military organizations against the DP began to form as early as 1954. With the recruitment of General Cemal GГјrsel, the plotters managed to unite under one organization and carry out their plans. Sixty mutineers, from the rank of colonel down, swiftly captured the government offices and communication networks in Istanbul and Ankara. The failure of the DP leaders to reach out to their allies in the military, in combination with efficient planning of the coup, resulted in the successful capturing of power.70 The mutineers then began to rule the country through the National Union Committee (NUC). Thanks to American military aid and training that had begun in the 1950s, the military enjoyed significantly more power than other political groups, especially the elites, who shied away from mobilizing the masses.71 Despite its initial success, the 1960 coup was operating on shaky ground. From the beginning, the armed forces were not unified, since the coup defied military hierarchy. One of the grievances of the insurgents was the abundance of officers in high positions, so, in August 1960, they dismissed 235 generals and admirals, retired 5,000 officers, and passed a law that reduced the years required for promotion. The officers who lost their jobs established the Association of Retired Officers of the Revolution and started to pressure the coup government and the military.72 In opposition to the NUC, another organization, called the Union of Armed Forces (UAF), formed within the military and frequently clashed with the NUC.73 While the insurgents failed to keep the military intact, they had difficulties in attracting potential civilian allies. Although the RPP leadership could have been a natural coalition partner, the NUC refused to be associated with the party and closed down all party precincts, including those that belonged to the RPP. In its economic policies as well, the interim government went further than expected. Although the creation of the State Planning Organization was a welcomed development, the NUC increased property taxes and required all citizens to declare their wealth. The issue of land reform was reintroduced, 240 eastern landlords were imprisoned, and 55 of them were forced to move to western Turkey.74 Page 92 →Since there was no elite coalition and since the military was split, radical officers in the NUC and UAF demanded to stay in power longer. Only when Cemal GГјrsel reached an agreement with Д°nГ¶nГј on holding elections in October 1961 and hence forged a temporary alliance, the 14 radical officers in the NUC were purged, and the ones in the UAF were tamed. The deal between the two statesmen guaranteed the fate of the remaining NUC officers, by promising seats in the newly established senate to them and the presidency to GГјrsel. When a return to democracy proved unthreatening, the hard-liners’ arguments for staying in power lost their credibility.75 However, the damage was already done. The initial failure to form an alliance with the rest of the elites caused the costs of suppression to increase, resulting in a fragile coup (as summarized in table 4.2). Most of the leaders of the DP were imprisoned, and Prime Minister Menderes and two other ministers were executed. But the rank and file of the Democratic Party formed the Justice Party (JP) in February 1961, under the leadership of a general who was forced to retire after the coup. The new party made propaganda against the 1961 constitution and influenced 48 percent of the people to vote no in the referendum. In the October elections, the JP gathered 34.8 percent of the votes and entered into a coalition with the RPP, which received 36.7 percent. A year later, the JP managed to secure an amnesty for those sentenced during the coup era.76 Thus, the coup could not eliminate the DP elites, who returned to government immediately after the military withdrew. This failure led hard-liner officers remaining in the UAF to attempt a coup on 22 February 1962. However, the lower-ranking officers were at a serious disadvantage this time. They were not well prepared and lacked the full resources of the military at their disposal. Perhaps more important, there was now a firm coalition between the

generals in the military and the political elites, who equally feared intervention from radical lower-ranking officers.77 Since the UAF also included generals, the political elites and officers learned about the preparations of a coup before the hard-liners started the insurgency. In fact, the radical colonels decided to intervene precisely because they were about to be dismissed from the army for preparing a coup. When word of the insurgency got out, Chief of the General Staff Cevdet Sunay, Prime Minister Д°nГ¶nГј, the commanders in chief, and other party leaders went to the headquarters of the air force (which was already prepared for a possible coup attempt). Then one of the party leaders, Ekrem Alican, was sent to the war college, the bastion of the insurgents, to reach an agreement with them. The leader of the mutineers, Colonel Aydemir, and his colleagues decided to surrender when they realized that both the military and the political elites were against them. After the Page 93 →incident, even though Д°nГ¶nГј assured in writing that criminal charges would not be brought against the insurgents, Aydemir and 71 military officers were dismissed from their military posts.78 The grievances of these officers increased even further with this dismissal. They continued to meet and, on 21 May 1963, attempted another coup. This time, given that they were retired, they had even less support within the military and fewer resources to carry out a coup. Their whole plan was based on overtaking the state radio, which they hoped would result in the rest of the military jumping on the bandwagon. But they failed even in this simple task. Days before the incident, Д°nГ¶nГј publicly warned his party of the coming coup, signaling his disdain. On the day of the mutiny, pro-government forces did not let the insurgents take over the radio station. Then the chief of the general staff declared that the military was on the side of the government, which was broadcasted from the radio repeatedly. After the broadcast, units that supported the insurgency backed down, no military group was interested in participating, and the pro-government forces surrounded the hard-liners at the war college. After the insurgency, 151 officers were arrested, seven suspects (including Aydemir) were sentenced to death, and all of the students of the war college were suspended.79 Given high levels of costs of suppression, it was impossible for the insurgents to succeed and seize the government. With these two failed coup attempts, the military was cleansed of the hard-liners for the time being.

The Second Decade of Unconsolidated Democracy and the Military Intervention of 1971 The 1961 constitution explicitly guaranteed freedom of expression, organization, and information gathering. In the 1960s, for the most part, these liberties were protected, and previously banned activities—such as the rights to form associations, bargain collectively, and strike—were allowed. However, the 1961 constitution also included a provision that handed tutelary powers and reserve domains to the military on domestic and foreign security matters, through the newly created National Security Council (NSC).80 Coup conspiracies within the military continued, with members of the intelligence and leftist press joining the choir. The possibility of another coup caused considerable anxiety among the higher-ranking officers and mainstream political elites. By 1971, almost all significant groups had lost their faith in democracy. The commanders of the NSC pressured the elected government to resign and compelled the parliament to give the caretaker government a vote Page 94 →of confidence, without the use of any armed action (see table 4.3 for a summary of the reasons for the coup). Elite conflict over the economy was particularly intense in the 1960s. The 1961 constitution had designated the path toward economic development and envisioned state planning. Import substitution industrialization (ISI) was accepted as the common economic policy, and the State Planning Organization (SPO) had the duty of drawing up and carrying out the development plans. But, in a formula that was bound to create conflicts, the bureaucrats at the SPO were forced to negotiate with the politicians in the High Planning Council in order to execute economic policy.81 Not surprisingly, the first government of this era collapsed because of disputes between the SPO and the coalition partners.82 During the subsequent Justice Party governments (1965–71), the politicians regularly ignored planning, did not implement the suggestions of the SPO, refused written reports, and canceled regular meetings. In effect, the JP government relegated the SPO to a consultative body.83 Against this attitude of the JP, the bureaucratic elites increasingly supported leftist ideas, which emphasized the role of the state and, hence, the power of the bureaucracy. For instance, in February 1963, the SPO members who resigned from their posts formed the Socialist Culture Society, which supported the leftist journal YГ¶n.84

The stance of the JP was partly due to the reservations of the business community about the functions and limits of the SPO. The constitution clearly stated that the state had the authority to expropriate immovable property. The memory of the Capital Tax Law was still vivid in the minds of the businesspeople, and proposals for land reform continued to hang in the air. Businesspeople, through the Turkish Union of Chambers (TOBB), wanted reassurances that state control did not mean socialism or redistribution. Even though the five-year plans of the 1960s provided incentives for the business community, there was uncertainty due to bureaucratic corruption and frequently changing regulations. Confusion with regard to which administrative body was handling the incentives (the SPO or the ministries) was also common.85 Business was not always unified in its complaints. The import regime of ISI was designed to benefit the industrialists. But TOBB, which was dominated by commercial groups, was responsible for the distribution of import licenses. The continuing preeminence of the merchants resulted in frequent clashes between industrial and commercial groups in TOBB. This conflict was coupled with regional tensions. The vanguard industries were concentrated in Istanbul, Izmir, and Adana. Smaller manufacturers in inner Anatolia were threatened by the expansion of these bigger enterprises and their Page 96 →control over the local market.86 Because the smaller enterprises had greater representation in TOBB, the largest industrial and commercial businesses in Turkey founded the privately organized and financed Turkish Industry and Business Association (TГњSД°AD) in 1971.87 Page 95 → Table 4.3. Summary Analysis of the 1971 Coup in Turkey Moderate Costs of Toleration between 1960 and 1971 Elites Yes threatened? Perception of threat to the Mainstream higher-ranking officers threatened by the leftist military cliques military’s interests Perception of threat to the JP versus bureaucratic institutions over authority and economic program + JP versus other political parties elites’ interests Perception of threat to the Land reform and nationalizations requested by some bureaucracies + JP versus businessmen + business splits among businessmen community’s interests Elites threatened by Yes each other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote No—lower classes supported mainstream parties (especially the JP), and the Labor Party was for radical not threatening parties that could come to power?

Lower classes engaged in threatening contentious action?

No—some demonstrations and strikes, but not yet widespread and ideologically challenging the socioeconomic or political order

Outcome

Unconsolidated Democracy with Coups Procedural conditions partially fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal support Moderate Costs of Suppression during the 1971 Intervention

The military commanders had more power Yes than the opposition? Threat of external wars led Yes—support from the US due to the Cold War and increasing economic power of the to increased military resources for the military Alliance between the lower classes and political No—the parties agreed to collaborate with the commanders parties against the intervention Transition from Increased military prerogatives and the creation of the National Security Council, which issued the last military the memorandum in 1971 + Fear among the politicians that the 1960 coup could be repeated intervention The military commanders had support No from other elites? Support /collaboration of Political parties collaborated only on laws that they supported the political elites Support of the business Businessmen were split in their support community Unified No Military? Elites signaled their opposition Vocal opposition, but support in establishing the caretaker government at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits Splits between the lower and higher ranks + Splits among the higher-ranking officers within the military Fragile Coup Outcome Commanders changed the government but failed to realize the socioeconomic goals that were not supported by the political elites

The regional conflict also spilled over into the Justice Party. The leadership of TOBB had always been allied with the party, but a non-JP candidate, Necmettin Erbakan, became the leader of the chamber in 1969. In retaliation, the JP declared the elections invalid and held back import licenses. The arbitrary intervention of the party in TOBB affairs led to resentment among the business community. Erbakan became the leader of the religiously oriented National Order Party in February 1970, representing small Anatolian enterprises. The same year, 72 Justice Party members gave the leader of the JP, Prime Minister SГјleyman Demirel, a memorandum, and 41 deputies voted no to the government budget. Later, this group of deputies formed the Democratic Party, aimed at representing large commercial and agricultural interests. With this new party, the JP lost its majority in the national assembly, making it increasingly difficult to push through bills and govern effectively.88 ISI strategy overall led to industrial expansion. Between 1963 and 1967, the sector grew 10.6 percent. The number of workers in industry increased from one million workers in 1960 to approximately two million by the early 1970s.89 In January 1967, several trade unions split from the state-controlled and pro-JP Confederation of Trade Unions of Turkey (TГњRK-Д°Ећ) and founded a rival and more radical confederation, the Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey (DД°SK). DД°SK claimed 60,000 members and organized several demonstrations.90 Strike activity increased during the decade, but labor demands were confined to the recognition of workers’ rights.91 In February 1961, the Turkish Labor Party (TLP) was founded by 12 leaders of trade unions.92 Even though the TLP was the first grassroots party established by labor representatives, it abided by the constitution, adhered to democracy, and gradually turned into a party of leftist intellectuals rather than workers. Indeed, despite increasing labor activity, the workers in the 1960s failed to gain strength vis-Г -vis mainstream political currents. The TLP was unable to win more than 3 percent of the votes in the 1965 and 1969 elections, when most of the workers voted for the mainstream JP.93 Seeing that a revolution by the laboring class was impossible, intellectuals grouped around the journal YГ¶n and the weekly Devrim advocated that all Turkish “energetic forces” should unite around the military, which would stage a revolutionary coup. For this purpose, in 1969, a group including intellectuals, ex-officers from the 1960 coup, and a military clique united to form a secret organization aspiring to overthrow the regime by a military intervention.94Page 97 → The military generals, who had learned about the conspiracy, warned the government of the approaching danger and urged Prime Minister Demirel to take action by strengthening state authority and carrying out socioeconomic reforms. However, as implied by Demirel during the January 1971 NSC meeting, the government had been enfeebled by elite conflict and was unable to react.95 Subsequently, 28 military generals gathered and discussed how to prevent the restlessness among the lower-ranking officers from spreading any further. Five different strategies were voiced, ranging from issuing a warning to carrying out a military intervention.96 Although most of the generals wanted military intervention, the soft-liners (headed by Chief of the General Staff Memduh TaДџmaГ§) and the hard-liners (headed by Commander of the Air Force Muhsin Batur and Commander of the Army Faruk GГјrler) agreed on a compromise and sent a memorandum to President Sunay. The memorandum called for the creation of a nonpartisan caretaker government in order to enact the socioeconomic reforms that the constitution demanded, and the document threatened armed intervention if the government was not formed. The military commanders, by issuing the memorandum, intended to use repression and appeasement simultaneously to deal with the leftist conspiracy.97 The initial reaction of the political parties in parliament was collaborative. Except for the Democratic Party,98 all other parties maintained their silence. The JP government resigned, and a caretaker government was formed, under the leadership of a member of the RPP, Nihat Erim. The new government received a vote of confidence in parliament and achieved relative success in enacting laws that repressed the leftist movements and increased state authority. During this period, student organizations were closed down, and three leftist student leaders were executed. The meetings and activities of the trade unions were forbidden, and labor strikes were prohibited. Leftist newspapers and magazines, including Devrim, were banned. The government arrested 427 people, mostly leftist intellectuals, and closed down the TLP.99 In my interview with him, Demirel explained his party’s decision to support the interim government by referring to the military’s threat to close down the parliament altogether: “We preferred to keep the parliament open.В .В .В . We [gave] our vote of confidence not to the [Erim] government but to the continuation

of the regime and the parliament.”100 The experience of the 1960 coup was still fresh, making the threat of a full-blown intervention credible and pressuring the political parties into subservience. The commanders controlled the resources of the armed forces, which had been further strengthened during the past decade by American monetary aid and equipment, as well as by a new domestic arms industry.101 In the 1960s, the Page 98 →military had also become an important economic player through the creation of a social service institution called the Armed Forces Assistance and Pension Fund (OYAK). OYAK owned companies in the industrial sector, and its activities had a wide range, including automobile, petroleum, and food processing.102 The strength of the military led political parties to acquiescence at first, but as long as the parliament was open, they had the power to kill laws that they did not support. The JP adopted a dual strategy to deal with the intervention and voted yes only on policies that suited its purposes.103 The RPP split into two factions. While Д°nГ¶nГј and the traditionalists in the party supported and cooperated with the interim government, the leftists, led by BГјlent Ecevit, opposed the intervention and some of the bills.104 Ecevit thought that cooperation with the military would be suicidal for the party at the ballot box, similar to the aftermath of the 1960 coup.105 Conflict within the party intensified during the interim period and was finally resolved when Ecevit became the new chairman of the RPP in May 1972. Although opposition to the previous policies of the JP led some business groups to endorse the military intervention, others viewed the memorandum as a threat. The government contemplated enacting the land reform law and introducing new taxes, leading the president of TOBB to criticize the Erim government in September 1971.106 My interviews with 50 businesspeople who lived through the 1970s show that there was a split among the economic elites regarding the intervention. When asked how they felt when the military intervened with a memorandum in 1971, 30 percent of the respondents expressed positive feelings; however, the majority (58 percent) talked about the intervention in negative terms. While 24 businesspeople seemed to believe that there were good reasons for the intervention, 16 respondents argued that it disrupted democracy, and 10 thought that it was unnecessary. When I asked their opinions about the interim government, 8 businesspeople declared that they liked it, while 13 believed that it was ineffective. Similarly, while 5 interviewees expected, at the time, that the interim government’s economic program would fix the problems, 7 respondents were dissatisfied with the caretaker government’s policies. Halfhearted support by the political parties and mixed reactions from the business community resulted in the resignation of 11 technocrats from the Erim government in December 1971. The military generals convened to decide on a response. While 25 hard-liner officers from the air force wanted to intervene, the majority in the navy and army decided to maintain the status quo and proceed with the national elections scheduled for 1973.107 Due to the split among the generals, threats of full intervention became less credible, Page 99 →and the political elites realized that the military was not unified sufficiently to enforce its will on the parliament. The military’s intention to appease the left by socioeconomic reforms failed completely in April 1972, when Erim resigned as the prime minister and was replaced by a right-wing senator.108

The Continued Malfunction of Democracy in 1973–79 and the Military Coup of 1980 In October 1973, free and fair elections were held; however, democracy continued to malfunction for the subsequent seven years. The military sustained its political prerogatives, exercised mainly through the NSC, and it frequently suppressed the demonstrations and protests that spread around the country. Additionally, political violence between left- and right-wing organizations, including political parties, became a common occurrence during this period. The inability of the political parties and the state to deal with the disturbances resulted in the questioning of the viability of the regime and the willingness of elected officials to bring about stability. As table 4.4 shows, for some mainstream politicians, businesspeople, and military officers, the answer to the question “Democracy with whom?” was both the threatening elites and the threatening lower classes. In fact, the threat posed by the lower classes was perceived to be caused by the politicians. Since the electorate did

not vote for radical political parties in overwhelming numbers, free and fair elections, in and of themselves, were not seen as the main challenge. Several different leftist political parties came into existence, but none of them won any seats in parliament, and their collective vote share was around 1 percent.109 More than the left, the fragmentation of the right disturbed democracy. The religious National Salvation Party (NSP) was formed by Necmettin Erbakan after his party was closed down during the 1971 military intervention. Ideologically, the party advocated returning to an Islamic civilization and remedying the defects of capitalism by sectarian brotherhood.110 The Nationalist Action Party (NAP), founded by Alpaslan TГјrkeЕџ, a protagonist in the 1960 coup, campaigned against ethnic and religious minorities at home and advocated uniting all of the Turks abroad.111 In the two elections that were carried out before 1980, the most votes received by the NSP and NAP were respectively 12 and 6 percent. The voters of the NSP included religious small entrepreneurs, who were diversely affected by unequal industrialization in Turkey.112 In 1980, the 500 largest industrial companies were responsible for close to 50 percent of manufacturing sales. In addition, more than 70 percent of privately owned capital and sales were Page 101 →concentrated in Istanbul and Izmir. A second source of support to the new rightist parties, especially the NAP, was unemployed youth in the urban centers. Migration from rural areas to urban centers had grown at a substantial rate in the 1950s and 1960s. Increasingly in the 1970s, Turkish industry could not absorb excess labor, and unemployment reached almost 15 percent by 1980.113 Toward the end of the 1970s, contentious movements were fueled by economic hardships. Problems with ISI strategy surfaced. Combined with increases in the world oil prices, ISI resulted in a severe crisis in Turkey. Instead of growing, the economy actually shrank. Industrial production decreased, inflation rose, and limits on imports made even simple household items impossible to find in the market.114 Page 100 → Table 4.4. Summary Analysis of the 1980 Coup in Turkey Moderate to High Costs of Toleration between 1973 and 1980 Elites threatened? Perception of threat to the military’s interests Perception of threat to the political elites’ interests

Yes Violence directed at military officers + Increase in radical activities + Limited authority given to the military by the politicians to repress terrorism

Conflict between the JP and the RPP + Splits within bureaucratic institutions + Decreasing autonomy of the bureaucracy + Government instability + Violence directed at political elites

Perception of threat to the business Violence directed at the business community + Strikes + Economic crisis community’s interests Elites threatened by Yes each other? A significant portion of the electorate Yes—majority of the electorate voted for mainstream parties and no leftist radical party came expected to vote to power, but the radical right parties participated in coalition governments for radical parties that

could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening contentious action? Outcome

Yes—escalation of violence and terrorism, but no sustained social movement and the mainstream parties were seen responsible Unconsolidated Democracy Procedural conditions partially fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal support + Coup that resembled an authoritarian regime Low Costs of Suppression during the 1980 Intervention

Military commanders had more power Yes than the opposition? Resources of the Increasing economic power of the military military Power of the Low—their movements were split and in conflict with each other lower classes Alliance between the lower classes No—opposition political elites did not mobilize the population and did not collaborate with and political each other or the radical groups elites against the intervention Proper planning of the military Yes intervention Transition from the last military Continued military prerogatives intervention Military commanders had support Yes from other elites? Support /collaboration of the political elites Support of the business community Unified military? Elites signaled their opposition at the beginning

Some of the politicians provided support and collaborated with the interim government + Political parties endorsed the transition in 1983

Yes Yes No

Other military officers on the Yes—the order came from the military chain of command bandwagon at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits No within the military Successful Coup Outcome The military captured the government and initiated the changes it envisioned Left-wing organizations, such as DД°SK, and right-wing groups—sometimes associated with the NAP and NSP—prepared demonstrations, strikes, and protests to voice their grievances. The number of strikes, for instance, increased from 22 in 1973 to 227 in 1980, involving around 12,000 and 46,000 workers respectively.115 Political rallies had the potential to turn into violent conflicts, since polarization led members of groups to attack one another. Political supporters of the left and right were the most frequent victims, but innocent bystanders suffered from terrorism too. In the mid-1970s, thousands of people from both sides died or were wounded due to these types of assaults. The death toll was 231 in 1977, 832 in 1978, and 898 between December 1978 and September 1979. In the year before the September 1980 coup, 2,812 people lost their lives due to political violence. Members of ethnic and religious minorities were targets in some of the activities of the radical right, and they, too, established organizations. The Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), advocating Kurdish independence and adopting Marxist-Leninist ideology, was founded in 1978 and was reported to have killed 243 people within two years.116 Elites also fell prey to assassinations. Military and police officers were natural marks,117 but a number of politicians, such as former prime minister Nihat Erim, lost their lives in the ensuing anarchical environment. Testimony of interviewed businesspeople shows that the names of members of the Istanbul Chamber of Commerce and the Chamber of Industry appeared in “to-be-shot lists,” often propelling them to carry guns for self-protection.118 I asked interviewees, “In the 1960s and 1970s, what did you think were the problems Turkey faced?” Among 50 respondents, 74 percent mentioned violence, anarchy, chaos, and/or terrorism as a problem, and 40 percent directly referred to labor unrest, the rise of extremist groups, or secessionism. All of the respondents were bothered, in one way or another, by lower-class activism. However, they also mentioned problems unrelated to radical movements.Page 102 → While 72 percent cited grievances resulting from the behavior of the politicians (e.g., government instability, inefficiency, splits among politicians), 48 percent talked about economic problems as a major concern. These interview results are concurrent with the activities of businesspeople, especially in the last two years preceding the coup. Business associations—including TГњSД°AD, TOBB, the Confederation of Turkish Employer Associations (TД°SK), and the Ankara Chamber of Industry (ASO)—were vocal in their criticisms of the Ecevit government of 1978–79. Together, these associations criticized the RPP cabinet for its economic policies in general and demanded that the government devalue the exchange rate in particular. TГњSД°AD even went as far as taking out full-page newspaper ads for changing the course of politics and the economy. The subsequent fall of the government and the announcement of a liberalization program by the new Demirel cabinet in January 1980 were interpreted as the successes of this active business campaign.119 Like the business community, the military blamed the politicians for being unable to control the economic and social ills that plagued the country. In the aftermath of the 1973 and 1977 elections, none of the political parties held the majority of seats in parliament. The RPP and JP were the largest parties, but instead of cooperating with each other, they chose to ally with smaller parties. From the perspective of other mainstream elites, this strategy was detrimental for two reasons. First, the RPP and JP had to give concessions to the NSP and NAP, especially in the control of bureaucracies. With each different coalition, new posts were created, previous officials were dismissed, and new party sympathizers were appointed in the ministries, state economic enterprises, local governments, and other state organizations. Police forces also split into two rival associations, harming the

capability of the state to combat radicalism.120 While the bureaucrats lost their job security, the offices themselves were deprived of autonomy. Second, both the RPP and the JP cooperated with the religious NSP, which made outrageous demands affecting the lifestyles of Turkish citizens, such as recognizing Friday as a weekend or banning alcoholic beverages.121 While the military felt intimidated, some of the politicians criticized their own parties. For instance, in a 1977 protest against Demirel’s decision to cooperate with the radical parties, a Justice Party senator resigned, and 11 deputies left the party.122 In the 1970s, the RPP and the JP could not agree on enacting a law on state of emergency, making amendments in martial law and the penal code, and the opening of the state security courts. These laws were demanded by the martial law commanders and the military in order to increase the state’s Page 103 →authority to cope with anarchy and terrorism.123 Ecevit and Demirel criticized each other and blamed the military for not suppressing the violence.124 This frustrated the military officers, who felt that they were losing prestige because of the wrongdoings of the politicians. Other politicians, businesspeople, and generals used several means (ranging from arranging meetings to writing private and public letters) to bring the two parties together. For example, numerous times in 1980, Chief of the General Staff Kenan Evren urged Prime Minister Demirel to cooperate with the RPP to elect the president.125 Elite conflict and lower-class activism (seen as a consequence of the former) culminated in the military coup of 12 September. Because the intervention had the intention of repressing lower-class activities, it was the most “authoritarian” coup Turkey had ever seen. The military stayed in power for around three years, longer than any other period. All political parties were closed down, and the political system as a whole was completely changed by 1983. A more constraining constitution was written, and by restricting the political parties that could participate in the first postcoup elections, the military deliberately made a transition to an unconsolidated democracy. The military had political and economic power to carry out its intervention. The United States had put an arms embargo on Turkey after the war in Cyprus, which had brought Greece and Turkey (two NATO allies) to the brink of war.126 However, the Turkish Armed Forces established the Endowment for Strengthening of the Army in order to develop the weapons industry and facilitate the purchase of arms. In addition, OYAK increased its revenues and economic power by taking part in three new investments, in the transportation sector, the electronics industry, and commerce.127 The 12 September coup had been organized for almost a year, under the supervision of the commanders of the NSC.128 The top echelons of the military maintained their solidarity despite the postponement of the coup in the summer of 1980.129 There were no significant number of purges from the armed forces, no countercoup plans that could have drained the resources of the military, and no splits between soft-liner and hard-liner commanders. While this unity gave strategic advantage to the military, the opposition forces were split among themselves and too weak to face the armed forces. Part of the reason why the military was unified was that the civilians gave support to the intervention. Before the coup, influential politicians from the RPP, the JP, and minor mainstream parties were in contact with the general staff, reporting on the activities of their leaders, consulting generals in personal political decisions, and sometimes even urging them to intervene. Once the coup was carried out, all political leaders were arrested, but a numberPage 104 → of free politicians were willing (and were allowed by the generals) to cooperate with the interim government. The most important figure was certainly Turgut Г–zal, a bureaucrat close to Demirel, who had led the way for the January 1980 program of economic liberalization.130 Г–zal had a business background: at one time, he was a member of TГњSД°AD, chairman of the Metal Industry Industrialists Union, and an executive at the SabancД± Group of Companies.131 Two other ministers in the interim government, Ећahap KocatopГ§u and Fahir Д°lker, were businesspeople as well.132 In fact, the coup was well received by businesspeople, who collectively announced, through TГњSД°AD and

TД°SK, that they were pleased by the prospects of stability. Among 50 businesspeople I interviewed, a significant majority said that they felt positive when the coup occurred, primarily because it would end anarchy. The majority of the respondents also explained (either on their own or after specifically being asked) that they supported the economic reforms under the leadership of Г–zal. Only three interviewees complained that the economy had become worse after the military intervention. These results confirm that the business community was part of the political-military alliance that sustained the coup. The success of the coup reflects this coalition. All threatening political organizations were repressed, and violence came to an end. A year after the intervention, there were only 282 deaths due to political activities, which is a substantial achievement given that the death toll was 10 times higher during the year before the coup. By September 1983, the military had arrested 43,000 people suspected of being terrorists and had confiscated 734,000 weapons and three million rounds of ammunition.133 Transition to an unconsolidated democracy was carried out under tightfisted elections in 1983, with the sanctioning of the former politicians, who tried to participate in the elections but were not allowed to do so by the military. The military increased its tutelage over politics through several measures, including increasing its powers in the NSC and by the presidency of Chief of the General Staff Evren.134 Turkey obtained political and economic stability, which endured for at least a decade after the elections, under the heavy tutelage of the military. From its foundation in the 1920s to the mid-1980s, Turkey experienced an authoritarian regime and an unconsolidated democracy. What set Turkey apart from countries that had strong militaries with domestic prerogatives was the absence of a return to authoritarianism once democracy was established. This chapter demonstrated that this “uniqueness” of the Turkish case was a consequence of the absence of major lowerclass movements,Page 105 → especially communism. Certainly, in the 1970s Turkey experienced lower-class activism, but radical contentious action and social movements were on a low scale in comparison to the communist movement in Greece during the interwar period. In Turkey time and again the failure of democracy and stable politics was blamed on elite conflict and polarization among mainstream political parties. The struggle was primarily between the DP and the RPP in the 1950s and between the JP and RPP in the 1960s and 1970s. Elite conflict existed also among business elites, within the armed forces (until 1980), and between the bureaucracy and other elites. Before each military intervention, the majority of the electorate voted for the mainstream parties, which confined conflict predominantly to the elite level and therefore required short-lived interventions instead of long-run authoritarian regimes.

Page 106 →

5. Party-Voter Relations Consolidation and Deconsolidation of Democracy in Greece After the 1981 elections, Greek democracy consolidated. For three decades, all significant groups continued unabated in their preference for the regime, appearing to put an end to decades of uncertainty. But in 2009, a severe fiscal crisis, triggered by the world financial crisis of 2008, shook the Greek economy and eventually afflicted the political party system. When the Panhellenic Socialist Movement and New Democracy lost their dominance in parliament in the 2012 elections, a coalition government was established for the first time since the brief experience of 1989. Simultaneously and certainly in a more alarming fashion than the fragmentation of the party system, democracy also deconsolidated.1 Signs of this process are the presence of a totalitarian party as the third-largest group in parliament, increasing use and legitimization of violence by far-right and far-left groups, and public opinion occasionally shifting to nostalgic views of the past authoritarian regimes. The Coalition of the Radical Left (SYRIZA), which established the coalition government after the 2015 elections, is not a direct threat to democratic consolidation. However, its populist understanding of democracy further polarizes politics and, coupled with its false hope to citizens, might push politics into an even deeper crisis. In this chapter, I analyze the consolidation of democracy in the aftermath of the 1974 transition from the colonels’ junta. One characteristic of regime consolidation was incorporating the lower classes through promises of patronage and rent distribution. As I show in this chapter, this feature was partly responsible for the 2009 crisis and the deconsolidation of democracy. The deal between the two mainstream parties and the voters, involving material benefits in exchange for votes, came to an end, resulting in the frustration and disarray of many Greeks facing the economic consequences of the crisis. Significant numbers began voting for radical parties (both on the left and Page 107 →right of the ideological spectrum), lost their confidence in democratic institutions, and began looking for alternative options.

Consolidated Democracy from the Post-1974 Era until the 2000s After the 1974 transition from the junta, led by Konstantine Karamanlis, Greece fulfilled the procedural conditions of democracy. The right-wing New Democracy (ND), founded by Karamanlis, won the 1974 and 1977 elections, which were conducted freely and fairly. All political parties, including the communists, were allowed to participate and articulate their political preferences in these elections. The new constitution of 1975 guaranteed civil and human rights and prohibited unelected groups from exercising reserve and tutelary powers. The question of monarchy finally came to an end with the December 1974 referendum, which declared Greece a republic. Attitudinally, democracy became the “only game in town,” especially after the 1981 electoral victory of Andreas Papandreou and his center-left Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK). After four years in office, it was clear that PASOK adhered to the rules and institutions of democracy and did not intend to establish and/or change the socioeconomic structure of the country. Consolidation of democracy in Greece was a result of the declining perceptions of threat among the elites from each other and the lower classes (see table 5.1). The communists stopped being a threat, thanks to the moderation of the United Democratic Left and the leftist politicians who remained in Greece after the civil war. The moderates established the Communist Party of the Interior (CP-In) and disagreed with the CP over such issues as participation in democracy, the final desired

outcome (social democracy or the dictatorship of the proletariat), and the methods used to achieve the desired outcome (gradual change or revolution).2 During the transition, the CP-In and the UDL gave full support to reconstructing democracy in Greece. Although the CP continued its radicalism until the mid-1980s, it never won more than 11 percent of the votes. In 1985, the party changed its program and temporarily cooperated with the CP-In and other minor leftist parties in the Synaspismos coalition. In 1989, Synaspismos formed a governmental coalition with ND, which became a major turning point signifying that the communists had moderated their policies to the level of forming a coalition with the rightists.3 Perhaps PASOK adopted a more radical outlook in the 1970s than the communists. The initial basic pillars of PASOK’s ideology were (1) “national independence,” meaning allying with the Third World and rejecting NATO Page 108 →and the European Community (EC); (2) “social liberation,” denoting an openly Marxist position, advocating direct popular rule and socialization of industry; and (3) “democratic procedure,” indicating a disdain toward the democracy that was established in 1974 as a capitalist, imperialist, and right-wing framework that needed to be replaced by socialism.4 Starting from the electoral campaign of 1977, however, PASOK gradually moderated its ideologicalPage 109 → stance by adopting a more cautious approach to the West and by advocating “change” in which the “underprivileged” majority would be better represented than the small minority of “privileged” Greeks. During the 1981 campaign, PASOK was all the more cautious and appeared even pro-business.5 The declaration of government policy in 1981 did not contain any information on Marxism or a new socialist constitution.6 Table 5.1. Summary Analysis of Greek Democratic Consolidation after 1974 Low Costs of Toleration after 1974 Elites No threatened? Elites threatened No—moderation between New Democracy and PASOK, military’s interests were not attacked by the governments, and PASOK did not by each threaten most of the businessmen; compared with the authoritarian regime, democracy was more tolerable other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to No—PASOK was a mainstream party + radical communists could not gain electoral victories vote for radical parties that could come to power?

Lower classes engaged in No threatening contentious action? Outcome

Consolidated Democracy All procedural conditions fulfilled + Attitudinal support High Costs of Suppression after 1974

The military cliques had more power No than the opposition? Threat of external wars led to High military spending due to the threat of war with Turkey increased resources for the military Proper planning of the military intervention (in the No attempted coups of the post-1974 era) Power of the High lower classes Alliance between the Yes—demonstrations and electoral support for the democratic transition in 1974 lower classes and

opposition elites Transition from the last Swift and humiliating withdrawal of the military due to the Cyprus crisis + No exit guarantees regime The military cliques had support No from the other elites? Was the military unified in order to No gain prerogatives or to intervene? Consolidated Democracy Outcome All procedural conditions fulfilled + Attitudinal support In power, PASOK turned out to be a pragmatic mainstream party that could change its stance toward labor for economic and political stability and control the workers’ unions if the need arose.7 Approximately 50 enterprises belonging to the private sector were nationalized. However, these nationalizations targeted companies that were heavily in debt and that could not make profits. Owners of the companies were compensated and given the opportunity to buy their enterprises again after the businesses were reconstructed by the state.8 At first, the party attempted a neo-Keynesian policy to stimulate demand; when that failed, the party adopted austerity measures to increase supply, including devaluation and freezing of wages.9 During PASOK’s first years in office, there was a decline in the number of striking workers and lost working hours when compared with the peak year of 1980 (when ND was in power).10 From the mid-1980s onward, PASOK incorporated the lower classes into the regime through patronage, rather than mobilizing and radicalizing them against the socioeconomic and political order (see below for more discussion on this point). Threats of withdrawing Greece from NATO or the EC never materialized, and Greece’s liberal Western orientation was never questioned.11 Two socioeconomic and demographic trends determined the main preferences of the electorate and the moderation of the left in the 1970s and 1980s. The first development was the growing number of young voters, who had not experienced the civil war and had become eligible to vote during the seven years of authoritarian regime. The second important transformation (which had already started to play an important role in the 1960s) was the increase in numbers among the restless lower classes in the urban centers due to migration from the countryside. Both of these factors resulted in a significant shift in the electorate, leading the majority of the

voters to become center-leftist and anti-American while, at the same time, pro-democratic and nationalistic.12 Both of the main parties tried to get their votes: ND portrayed itself as a party close to social democrats, and PASOK moved to the ideological center.13 To guarantee democracy, significant numbers of Greeks voted in the 1970s for ND. However, once the regime had been secured and once PASOK had become a moderate centrist party, they voted for a change in government. Page 110 →The impressive growth of the Greek economy did not continue after the world oil crisis, and the ND governments could not remedy the situation. With the start of Greece’s accession to the EC from 1974 onward and with increasing levels of world market integration, the economy was opened up to increasing imports and competition, while certain state incentives had to be diminished. The capital-intensive industrial sectors that had gained momentum in the 1960s but were still in their early stages of development—such as chemicals, metallurgy, plastics, and electrical appliances—were adversely affected by increasing competition and witnessed a decline.14 Influential Greek industrialists criticized excessive intervention and state nationalizations by the ND governments.15 ND did not fare better, and when PASOK came to power, especially the younger members of the influential Hellenic Federation of Enterprises (SEV) did not hesitate “to do business with the socialist administration.”16 PASOK’s balancing role between businesspeople and labor contributed to this attitude. PASOK tried to cushion the effects of the EC by issuing a memorandum, which asked for the continuation of industrial import protection for five more years. Consequently, in 1984, Greece imposed import controls on certain industrial goods in order to give Greek industries more time to prepare for competition.17 Although PASOK proved to be harmless, my interviews with 44 businesspeople who witnessed PASOK’s rise to power show that the electoral victory of the socialists in the early 1980s caused concern among the economic elite. When asked how they felt when PASOK won the elections in 1981, 68 percent of the businesspeople responded with negative statements. Moreover, 61 percent replied affirmatively to the question “At the beginning of the 1980s, did you feel that PASOK was dangerous for your business?” Some businesspeople explained that they feared that their enterprises would be nationalized, and two respondents’ companies were among the ones that were. However, more modestly, most respondents argued that PASOK’s industrial and commercial policies worked to their disadvantage and caused their companies to lose money and business.18 Despite the adverse economic effects felt by some businesspeople, when I asked what type of regime respondents preferred in the 1980s, 93 percent (i.e., all except for three) said that they preferred democracy. When asked why, 15 respondents made explicit or implicit comparisons with authoritarianism, such as “Democracy is always better than authoritarianism,” “You can oust PASOK from power in democracy,” “Authoritarianism is as bad as PASOK,” or “It was authoritarianism that gave rise to PASOK.” The experience of the 1967 colonels’ regime seemed to have an effect on the businesspeople. Page 111 →Since this was a regime toward which most respondents had negative feelings, they did not prefer a similar political system again. The second reason for preferring democracy (12 respondents) was related to the positive aspects of PASOK, such as that the party was necessary for Greece, allowed people to express their feelings against the right, took positive steps toward further democratization, liberated the excluded people, and listened to the personal concerns of the businesspeople. The final reason (9 respondents) was the changes in PASOK’s policies. In time, PASOK simply stopped being a threat for these businesspeople. If we apply the framework advanced in chapter 2 to these business elites, their answer to the question “Authoritarianism under whom?” was repressive military cliques similar to the colonels’ regime, while the response to “Democracy with whom?” was a populist party that eventually became mainstream in ideological orientation, followed pragmatic economic policies, and incorporated labor. Aside from business interests, given its political history, democracy in Greece would not have consolidated without the military’s persuasion that this was the best regime. In the delicate months of 1974, the transition from the authoritarian regime occurred in the hands of right-wing politicians, who provided a sense of

security to the military officers.19 During the democratization processes, purges from the military were done slowly. In the end, out of 15,000 officers, only 500 were dismissed, and no more than 800 were relocated.20 Most of the officers who incurred punishment were from the highest ranks, and the lower ranks secured their positions. Moreover, budgetary support of the armed forces was increased in the face of a possible war with Turkey. The amount of the state budget that was spent on the military grew from 21.7 percent in 1973 (during the authoritarian regime) to 26 percent in 1976.21 The ND governments made sure that individual officers would also be better off, by increasing their housing, health, and retirement benefits. Since the authoritarian regime had already purged around 1,500 higher-ranking officers, promotions to upper ranks from lower echelons continued smoothly, eliminating another possible area of grievance for the officers.22 Finally, the military was given autonomy through the Supreme Council of National Defense, which allowed government decisions on defense and military promotions to be influenced by the military hierarchy. Although this autonomy was much more limited than was the case in the post–Civil War era, it was better than the full ascendancy of the civilians over the armed forces. Likewise, the military was allowed to keep its radio and television stations in operation, which was an important guarantee of autonomy.23 When PASOK came to power, the individual and corporate interests of the officers were again protected. The sustained symbolic aggressiveness in Page 112 →NATO and claims that the alliance had favored Turkey over Greece in disputes on Cyprus and the Aegean continued to provide an external duty and prestige to the armed forces, without really risking the survival of the military. The military officers enjoyed a twofold increase in their incomes during PASOK’s government in the 1980s. Almost one-fifth of the government budget was allocated to the armed forces, and other benefits, such as housing and health, were also increased.24 Even though there was no threat to the interests of the majority of the military officers in the post-1974 era and, therefore, no reason for an intervention, relatively minor conspiracies in the military continued until the mid-1980s. The biggest of these conspiracies occurred in February 1975, when supporters of Colonel Ioannidis (who was in prison) attempted to reinstate military rule. The mutiny was unsuccessful and was discovered before it was able to have a damaging effect. It later turned out that the government had uncovered four other mutinies before that time. The Karamanlis cabinet repressed these conspiracies by purging the putschist officers. However, conspiracies were discovered again in May 1982 and February 1983, during PASOK’s first term in office. These mutinies were directed at the PASOK government, which the putschists perceived as communist.25 Why was it not possible for the uprisings in the post-1974 period to succeed? First, the majority of the officers did not get involved in the conspiracies, and there was no military consensus supportive of an intervention,26 which made it more difficult for the conspirators to take over the government without being exposed by their own colleagues. Second, the way the authoritarian regime made a transition to democracy in 1974 increased the costs of suppression. If the 1974 transition had been controlled by the military, the armed forces would have tried to receive prerogatives for themselves. This would have created an unconsolidated democracy, in which at least covert military interventions would be easier and more frequent. This lack of institutional prerogatives also meant that in case of a future military intervention, the mutineers would probably be required to suppress not only a significant portion of the political and military elites but also the lower classes. The electorate had backed the democratization process, and the right-wing did not hesitate to ally with the voters against the military. This resolve on the part of ND leaders was demonstrated clearly in August 1974, when Karamanlis “threatened to gather a mass demonstration against the high command” in order to break the latter’s resistance to moving units near Athens to the north.27 In the post-1974 era, the military had limited powers left against the civilians, even when their interests were threatened. In the words of a retired deputy chief of the general staff, Page 113 →The armed forces lost their glory and their power. Even the conservative party did not trust them anymore for anything.В .В .В . And also the royal family, which was the core of the armed forces, disappeared. So, they did not have a natural leader. On the other hand, the military learned from

its mistakes.В .В .В . [The military could not react] because they did not have the power. They do not have this kind of power constitutionally.28

Relations between the Politicians and Voters and the Making of the Economic Crisis After the 1974 transition to democracy, governments in Greece alternated between the mainstream center-right and the center-left parties, except for the brief interlude of coalitions in 1989. Following PASOK’s control of the parliament during most of the 1980s, the 1990 legislative elections brought a victory to ND, only for it to be replaced by three consecutive terms of PASOK rule after the 1993 elections. In 2004 and 2007, ND polled most of the votes, again followed by a PASOK mandate in 2009. As table 5.2 shows, Greece had a relatively stable two-party system from 1981 to 2009. Together, PASOK and ND gained an average of 84 percent of the votes, usually giving either one of the parties a clear majority in parliament. Except for the June 1989 elections, other parties, most notably the CP and the Coalition of the Left (Synaspismos/SYRIZA), won less than 11 percent of the votes, staying below 7 percent on average after 1993. The two-party system and the dominance of ND and PASOK relied on patronage relations more than it rested on ideological affiliation of the voters.29 The elections that immediately followed the period of the colonels’ junta reproduced a more moderate version of the left-right cleavage that had prevailed in Greece since the interwar period. However, as the 1980s drew to a close, this political division lost its significance altogether. Concurrently, increasing numbers of voters began to switch their party of choice from one election to another, signifying that party identification had waned and that individual volatility had risen.30 As the ideological difference between ND and PASOK became less pronounced, the importance of favors that these parties promised to individuals and groups escalated. Patron-client relations have been pervasive in Greek politics since the 19th century but became less personalistic after the 1980s. The political parties directly arranged patronage to be distributed among groups of voters instead of being orchestrated by individual politicians.31 The private and public goods that parties dispersed Page 114 →to their loyal voters reached unprecedented proportions, in terms of both the financial burdens they created on the state and the damage these goods caused to the proper functioning of the overall Greek economy. One of the strategies that parties used to increase their vote share was to promise loyal party supporters posts in the public sector, with lucrative salaries and job guarantees. A natural consequence of this policy was the swelling of the bureaucracy. Employment in the public sector accounted for 22 percent of total employment in 2008. Between 1970 and 2009, it grew an average of 4 percent every year, compared with less than 1 percent growth for employment in the private sector. Since every new government gave a wage raise, the amount paid for state sector salaries and social services increased by around 6.5 percent between 2000 and 2009.32 Because posts came with permanent tenure and were handed out irrespective of whether or not the qualificationsPage 115 → of the employees fit the requirements of the job, Greek bureaucracy became notoriously inefficient. Table 5.2. Greek Election Results between 1981 and 2009 New Democracy (ND) Year Votes No. % Seats

Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK) Communist Party (CP)a Coalition of the Left (Synaspismos/SYRIZA)b Votes %

No. Seats

Votes %

No. Seats

Votes %

Otherc

No. Seats Votes % No. Seats

1981 35.87 115

48.07

172

10.93

13

—

—

5.13

0

1985 June 1989 Nov. 1989 1990 1993

40.84 126

45.82

161

9.89

12

—

—

3.45

1

44.28 145

39.13

125

—

—

13.13

28

3.46

2

46.19 148

40.68

128

—

—

10.97

21

2.16

3

46.89 150 39.3 111

38.61 46.88

123 170

— 4.54

— 9

10.28 2.9

19 0

4.22 6.38

8 10

1996 38.12 108 2000 42.73 125 2004 45.36 165

41.49 43.8 40.55

162 158 117

5.61 5.52 5.9

11 11 12

5.12 3.2 3.26

10 6 6

9.66 5.01 4.93

9 0 0

2007 41.84 152 38.1 102 8.15 22 5.04 14 6.87 10 2009 33.49 91 43.92 160 7.53 21 4.59 13 10.47 15  Source: Compiled from the website of the Hellenic Parliament (http://www.hellenicparliament.gr/Vouli-ton-Ellinon/To-Politevma/Ekloges/Eklogikaapotelesmata-New/#C) and Ilias Nicolacopoulos, “Elections and Voters, 1974–2004: Old Cleavages and New Issues,” West European Politics 28, no. 2 (2005): 270–71.  aIn the 1989 and 1990 elections, the CP ran together with the Coalition of the Left. The CP-Interior split into two factions, and by 2004, both factions had merged into the coalition.  bUntil 2003, the party’s full name was the Coalition of the Left and Progress (Synaspismos). With the 2004 elections, Synaspismos became the largest partner of the Coalition of the Radical Left, known by its Greek abbreviation, SYRIZA.  cIn the “Votes %” category, all valid votes given to other parties/organizations/individuals are calculated. In the “Number of Seats” category, all seats won by parties and independent candidates other than the four parties in the table are included. In the 1993 and 1996 elections, all other seats went to ND and PASOK offshoots respectively. In 2007 and 2009, all other seats were obtained by members of the Popular Orthodox Rally. The inefficiency of the bureaucracy was partially responsible for low levels of industrial investment. State bureaucrats could not properly implement the bloated number of vaguely formulated laws and regulations. Thus, any new company that wanted to open up a base in Greece had to pass through major hurdles and acquire the skill of filling out what seemed like meaningless and overinflated paperwork. The number of procedures required to open up a new business was 15 in 2007, the highest number in the EU, ranking Greece 120th among 128 countries in the world.33 Such difficulties in registration deterred new investors and especially foreign direct investment (FDI), which was the lowest in Greece, compared to the EU and the developed world. In 2008, the stock of FDI was 10.3 percent of GDP in Greece, while it was 35.1 percent in the EU as a whole.34 Bureaucratic rules that discouraged investment did not apply the same way to everyone, however: big companies that had political connections or that could provide bribes to people in key positions faced fewer hitches, turning into oligarchs.35 Indeed, the Greek state was beset by corruption, involving not only lower-level bureaucrats but also the highest levels of state administration. According to Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index, on a scale ranging from

0 (highly corrupt) to 10 (highly clean), Greece scored 4.7 points in 2008. This number dropped to 3.6 in 2012, ranking Greece 94th among 176 countries.36 Examples of high-profile scandals included a case that implicated government officials, including ministers, in accepting bribes from the German electronics company Siemens in exchange for public contracts.37 Another incident revealed defense officials accepting kickbacks, worth at least 16 million euros, on arms procurement deals.38 The scandals involving national security expenses particularly hit home in demonstrating how corruption was linked with the fiscal crisis. High defense expenditure since the transition to democracy in 1974 was one of the contributors to unrestrained state spending. The Greek military expenditure averaged 2.9 percent of GDP and ranked the highest among the EU countries between 2001 and 2008.39 According to one estimate, when adjusted for GDP and population size, Greece was the second-largest importer of weapons in the world between 2005 and 2009, after the United Arab Emirates.40 The high military spending occurred for several reasons, including Greek perceptions of threat from neighbors (most notably Turkey), and keeping the defense budget high in order to satisfy the military was an important factor since 1974. Page 116 →Military officers were also among privileged interest groups to whose demands the political parties frequently conceded in order to increase their popularity and win elections.41 The country’s pension system exemplified how some groups were favored over others. In 2008, public expenditure on pensions was 12.4 percent of GDP in Greece, compared with the OECD average of 7.1 percent.42 While overall spending was high, the difference between retirement ages varied from 45 to 65 years, and there were vast discrepancies in contribution rates, years of work for obtaining full pension, and the wages after retirement.43 Not surprisingly, the portion of the public sector represented by strong trade unions and “uniformed employees,” such as policemen and military personnel, received better provisions. But other surprising groups, such as hairdressers, bakers, and masseurs, were also advantaged. Apart from pensioners, other noteworthy minorities that took advantage of being better organized and raising a louder voice included shipowners, farmers, truck drivers, notaries, lawyers, pharmacists, porters, taxi owners, electricians, and dockers, among many others. Some of these groups were protected by state regulations, which prevented newcomers from entering the profession. Those who were already members were granted tax exemptions, subsidies, welfare benefits, or suspension of credit payments.44 In 2010, it was estimated that the liberalization of around 150 closed-shop professions would translate into a GDP increase of more than 13 percent in the medium term and a significant reduction in overall prices.45 The state could not obtain sufficient revenue while it was required to pay for a swollen public sector, meet the demands of interest groups and trade unions, and provide for high defense spending. Tax evasion was ubiquitous among higher-income groups that constantly reported lower earnings. In 2009, the Greek government lost 28 billion euros in taxes from the self-employed, an amount that could have paid for more than 30 percent of the budget deficit in that year.46 The inability of the state to collect taxes was a result of several factors related to the overall problems of the Greek bureaucracy: the inefficiency of the tax administration, leniency shown to tax evaders, a complicated and constantly changing legal framework, long periods of time to settle differences, and an unproductive judicial system. The feeling among the Greeks that the government was highly corrupt, not using tax revenues properly, and treating citizens unfairly contributed to the pervasiveness of tax evasion.47 Although Greek political parties and their mismanagement of the economy in order to gain more votes was part of the problem, entry to the Eurozone in 2001 played an important role in precipitating the crisis. When Greece became part of the Eurozone, its real currency was not as strong as the euro. This Page 117 →meant that Greece was overvaluing its currency, by at least 20 percent.48 An overvalued currency encouraged imports and discouraged exports, contributing to the trade

imbalance. Moreover, because of the common currency, nominal interest rates were substantially lowered, from 24.5 percent in 1993 to a maximum of 5.5 percent in the 2000s.49 Inflation rates above the Eurozone average further decreased the real interest rates.50 This encouraged central European economies to “invest” in Greece by buying government bonds. Liquidity in the financial markets and distorted confidence in the Eurozone boosted the ability of the Greek governments to borrow.51 The ability of the Greek governments to borrow also occurred because Greece appeared to have a well-functioning economy in the early years of the euro and, on average, 4.06 percent annual growth from 2001 to 2005. These growth rates were sustained, however, not by a competitive industrial sector but by revenues from tourism, shipping, real estate, and EU structural funds.52 Indeed, Greece had low competitiveness, ranking 67th among 134 countries in the world and doing only better than Romania and Bulgaria in the EU. Many factors, such as the bureaucratic inefficiency and closed professions identified above, contributed to low competitiveness. Labor productivity efficiency, in which Greece ranked 116th in the world, was also critical.53 Greek total unit labor costs also grew an average of 2.8 percent annually from 2001 to 2007, while the EU average increase was 1.1 percent during the same period. In Germany—the most competitive country in the EU—average annual change was в€’0.8 percent during the same period.54 Labor costs in particular and low competitiveness in EU and world markets in general added to Greece’s growing current account imbalance, which increased from в€’6.77 percent of GDP in 2001 to в€’14.42 percent in 2008. 55 High public debt was accompanied by high private debt, as consumers—trusting that their incomes would continue to rise with the favors of the political parties and encouraged by the profusion of imported goods and low interest rates—increasingly purchased luxury goods and property with cheap credit. The total amount of private debt from car loans alone in 2010 was more than 3.5 percent of GDP.56 The consumption boom decreased net savings, making the Greek economy more reliant on outside resources. Combined with the state’s inability to collect taxes, this factor intensified the Greek governments’ dependence on external borrowing. External sources accounted for around 70 percent of the public debt in 2004, increasing to around 80 percent by 2009.57 Abundance of lenders (and primarily European banks) allowed Greek governments to overspend for political gain, with a disregard for its eventual consequences. Accelerated and triggered by the world financial crisis of 2008, the Greek Page 118 →bubble exploded in October 2009, after the newly elected government of Prime Minister George Papandreou Jr. announced that the budget deficit, misrepresented by previous estimates as 3.7 percent of GDP, was above 12 percent. One of the EU requirements for entry to the Eurozone was having an annual deficit below 3 percent. The government debt was also corrected, from less than 100 percent to more than 115 percent of GDP, demonstrating that Greece again deviated from the EU benchmark that required less than 60 percent debt (see figs. 5.1 and 5.2). Following the new numbers, the 10-year Greek government bond yield spreads to the German bund, which had already increased due to the subprime mortgage crisis, rose from 65 basis points in August 2008 (before the collapse of Lehman Brothers) to 586 basis points in April 2010. The spread of the Greek bond continued to rise in the upcoming months, and the rating agencies simultaneously decreased Greece’s credit rating, bringing it down to junk status.58 Data compiled from World Bank, World DataBank, World Development Indicators, “Cash Surplus/Deficit (% of GDP),” available at http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/ Fig. 5.1. Budget deficit in Greece as a percentage of GDP The delayed response of the EU contributed to the assessments of the markets, which had started to change their expectations regarding Greece’s ability to repay its debt and stay in the Eurozone.59 In late March 2010, EuropeanPage 119 → leaders announced, for the first time, the possibility of an agreement to help out Greece. A month later, Prime Minister Papandreou called on the offer, and just a few days before the May due date of a loan of nine billion euros, the European Commission, International Monetary Fund (IMF), and European Central Bank (ECB)—the troika—decided to lend 110 billion euros to Greece in a bailout

plan.60 The plan came with a 5.5 percent interest rate, strict conditions, and austerity measures. In March 2012, a second bailout deal of 130 billion euros was settled. The package included a reduction above 50 percent in the value of Greek bonds held by the private sector, as well as a decrease of interest rates and an extension of maturities on existing bailout loans. For its part, the Greek government was required to continue with fiscal adjustments, mainly through cuts in pensions and wages, layoffs in the public sector, privatizations, and tax increases.Data compiled from World Bank, World DataBank, World Development Indicators, “Central Government Debt (% of GDP),” available at http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/ Fig. 5.2. Public debt in Greece as a percentage of GDP The severity of the crisis meant that Greece had to accept more drastic austerity measures than other crisis-ridden EU countries signing bailout deals.61 For example, by 2014, nominal wages for an average worker in Greece fell by 14 percent, while, in real terms, the minimum wage decreased around Page 120 →22 percent.62 By 2014, around 150,000 public workers were laid off.63 The value-added tax (VAT) and property and income taxes were all increased substantially. The governments reformed the pension system, reducing payments by a maximum of 25 percent in 2012.64 In the following years, pension reform continued, with some cuts reaching over 40 percent. The age of retirement was raised from 60 to 67.65 The consequences of these and similar austerity measures have been increasing unemployment rates and an average annual reduction of GDP by 6.2 percent (a total of around 25 percent). By 2014, 36 percent of the population was at risk of poverty and social exclusion (see table 5.3). According to a survey conducted between September 2011 and February 2012, 22 percent of respondents had “great difficulty in making ends meet,” and 85 percent faced a worse financial situation than in the previous year. As an important indicator of personal indebtedness, 40 percent of Greeks said that they had arrears in utility bills in the past year.66 Thus, numbers aside, the overall quality of life for an average Greek fell drastically.

Consequences of the Economic Crisis for Politics and Democracy The economic crisis was followed by monumental changes in Greek politics. Many Greeks felt that neither they nor their children would live in the conditions of the past years. The bargain between the political parties and the Page 121 →voters, which helped consolidate democracy but gave special interest groups such favors as beneficial pension and taxation schemes, had to come to an end. As the state was forced to retrench, the old parties lost their raison d’état.67 This situation was coupled with the endemic corruption of the elites, which resulted in increased perceptions of betrayal among the voters. The feeling that the mainstream politicians were selling out the interests of the citizens to foreign powers for the politicians’ own survival began to develop. This context of broken deals, graft, and treachery led many Greek voters to seek newer faces in politics. The previous two-party system collapsed, and voters turned to parties that were on the fringes of the political system prior to 2012.

в€’0.4

Table 5.3. Social and Economic Consequences of the Greek Crisis (2008–14) Real GDP Growth Rates as % Change on Previous Year 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 −4.4−5.4−8.9−6.6−3.90.8

Risk of Poverty or Social Exclusion as % of Total Population 2008 28.1 Unemployment Rate as % of the Labor Force / (Youth Unemployment) 2008

2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 27.6 27.7 31 34.6 35.7 36 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014

7.8 9.6 12.7 17.9 24.5 27.5 26.5 (21.9) (25.7) (33) (44.7) (55.3) (58.3) (52.4)  Source: Eurostat, “Unemployment by Sex and Age—Annual Average,” available at http://appsso.eurostat.ec.europa.eu/nui/show.do? dataset=une_rt_a&lang=en; Eurostat, “Real GDP Growth Rate—Volume,” available at http://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/tgm/table.do? tab=table&init=1&language=en&pcode=tec00115&plugin=1; Eurostat, “People at Risk of Poverty or Social Exclusion,” available at http://ec.europa.eu /eurostat/tgm/table.do?tab=table&init=1&plugin=1&pcode=tipslc10&language=en

Collapse of the Previous Two-Party System The signing of the bailout plans and the acceptance of the memoranda of understanding that determined the conditions under which the loans would be disposed had two immediate consequences for the political system. First, parliamentarians who opposed their parties’ decisions on the bailout split from their groups, which led directly to party fragmentation. After the May 2010 bailout vote, the Democratic Alliance and Democratic Left were founded by members of ND and SYRIZA respectively.68 The shifting of allegiances among lawmakers continued, and in February 2012, just a few days after the parliament voted in a new set of austerity measures that would pave the way for the second bailout, another breakaway organization from ND, the right-wing Independent Greeks (IG), was established.69 A second direct consequence of the memoranda was the escalation of demonstrations and riots, frequently turning into violent acts against government and private property. Already in December 2008, the killing of a 15-year-old boy by the Greek police had set off a wave of uprisings, which continued throughout 2009.70 With the deepening of the crisis, the number of protests increased further, reaching a total of 20,400 in four years. On average, there were 5,100 demonstrations per year and 14 per day from May 2010 to 2014.71 Some of these activities turned brutal—for instance, killing three bank employees in May 2010. Terrorism increased substantially, with 328 incidents reported between the beginning of 2008 and the end of 2014. The number of cases was 15 in 2007, steadily increasing to 53 in 2008, peaking to 115 in 2009, and reverting back to 48 in 2010.72 Most acts of terrorism targeted government offices, police stations, international banks, foreign embassies, private businesses, public utilities, political parties, and journalists. Not all occasions of protest were violent. A significant and mostly peacefulPage 122 → movement occurred in the summer of 2011. At its highest point, 30,000 people, influenced by the Spanish Indignados, occupied Syntagma Square (facing the parliament) and other plazas around the country. The Greek Outraged movement continued for several months, with the overall participation of more than two million people, before dying down in the face of police repression.73 The civil disobedience movement gained momentum at around the same time and mainly rejected paying for road tolls and public transportation tickets, at times accompanied by vandalism of toll booths. Such movements were supplemented by strikes organized mostly by the General Confederation of Greek Workers (GSEE), the Civil Servants Confederation, and the

Trade Union Front, affiliated with the Communist Party. From 2010 to November 2014, 32 general strikes were carried out, with disturbing consequences for the normal daily functioning of life.74 Besides general strikes, thousands of sectorial strikes and work stoppages also took place,75 involving mostly the interest groups that opposed austerity measures derailing their previous privileges. Farmers, pharmacists, judges, doctors, dockers, airline pilots, street vendors, public utility workers, taxi owners, and bus and truck drivers were among the many who attempted to put pressure on the government through strikes and protests. These uprisings delegitimized the political system further, although they were also caused by feelings of illegitimacy toward politicians. On the one hand, those people who took to the streets felt betrayed by the two main parties, which could not maintain the relationship they had created with the electorate and sustained since the 1980s. On the other hand, those people who stayed on the sidelines and did not participate in protests felt more insecure as acts of terrorism and vandalism increased. In economic terms, perhaps they shared the sentiments of the protestors, but in terms of personal safety or the destruction of daily life, they blamed activists as much as the politicians. The delegitimization of the parties had started before the crisis, as the 2008 riots demonstrated, but it entered an irreversible phase after 2010. Two years earlier, the younger generation had revolted due to the lack of economic prospects and several corruption scandals publicized that year. After the crisis and in the context of the protests, almost all Greeks began to view politics as culpable.76 Furthermore, in the eyes of many, political elites stole from the Greeks and collaborated with foreign powers in order to maintain the elites’ own interests, at the expense of the public. These foreign powers almost always meant “old demons,” such as the EU and the United States, synthesized into the troika, but they increasingly included new ones, such as the immigrants. Political parties that could disassociate with PASOK and ND and capitalize on scenarios that passed the buck increased their vote share. Page 123 →The elections after the debt crisis clearly demonstrated the collapse of the post-1974 party system (see table 5.4 for the results). In May 2012, ND lost 15 percent compared with its 2009 votes, and PASOK lost a sweeping 31 percent. Together, the vote share of ND and PASOK decreased from 77 percent in 2009 to 34 percent in September 2015. But the ND-led coalition government of 2012 could not survive for long, and early elections were conducted in January 2015 because of the parliament’s failure to elect a president. In these elections, SYRIZA surpassed the votes of ND and formed the government together with IG. In September 2015, snap elections were called due to a split within SYRIZA. With the 50 extra seats granted to the first runner-up, SYRIZA was the largest party in parliament, establishing a coalition with IG based on their mutual agreement of following a tough line against the country’s foreign creditors. In these elections, ND lost around 2 percent of its votes compared with the 2012 results but came out as the main opposition. The tallies confirmed PASOK’s demise, with the organization holding on to only 33 seats in 2012 and 17 in September 2015. Evidently, significant numbers of voters punished the party that was in charge of the government during the outbreak of the crisis and that signed the first memorandum with the troika.77 During the 2009 electoral campaign, PASOK had pledged to increase public spending in order to stimulate the economy, while ND had argued that the only way out of the impending crisis was austerity.78 In government, however, PASOK was forced to do the exact opposite of its campaign commitments and gave in to the realities that faced the country. Coming from a center-left party that had claimed to protect the “underprivileged” against the “privileged” and that had adopted an anti-Western discourse in the 1970s and 1980s, this acquiescence did more damage to PASOK’s image than could be salvaged by Papandreou’s sporadic condemnations of the troika.79 Papandreou contributed to the poor results in January 2015 by leaving PASOK and forming an alternative party, which received less than the 3 percent threshold.80 The 2012 and 2015 elections indicate that the previous two-party system of ND and PASOK has been replaced by a more fragmented system. There are still two

parties at the core, ND and SYRIZA. Although SYRIZA resembles PASOK in important respects, one party did not simply replace the other.81 Ideologically, the system after 2009 is accompanied by a different type of polarization, crosscutting the traditional left-right cleavage. The new division between those for and those against the memorandum/bailout, which implicitly or explicitly translates into the split between those for and those against the policies of the euro/EU, is the most salient issue. Although the pro-memorandum parties (ND, PASOK, and the Democratic Left) establishedPage 125 → a coalition government in 2012, the antimemorandum camp—represented by parties on the opposite ends of the left-right spectrum, such as SYRIZA, IG, and Golden Dawn—gained the majority in 2015.82 SYRIZA’s choice of IG (a right party) as a coalitional partner confirmed that the left-right cleavage has lost its significance. Page 124 → Table 5.4. Greek Election Results between 2012 and 2015 Coalition of Panhellenic New the Radical Socialist Communist Party Independent Greeks Democratic Left / The Democracy Golden Dawn (GD) Left Movement (CP) (IG) Rivera (ND) (SYRIZA) (PASOK) Year No. No. No. No. of No. of No. of No. of Votes % of Votes % of Votes % of Votes % Votes % Votes % Votes % Seats Seats Seats Seats Seats Seats Seats 18.85 108 16.79 52 13.18 41 8.48 26 10.62 33 6.97 21 6.11 19 May 2012 (в€’14.64) (+12.20) (в€’30.74) (+0.95) (new party) (+6.68) (new party) 29.66 129 26.89 71 12.28 33 4.59 12 7.51 20 6.92 18 6.25 17 June 2012 (в€’3.83) (+22.30) (в€’31.64) (в€’2.94) (new party) (+6.63) (+0.14) 76 36.34 149 4.68 13 5.47 15 4.75 13 6.28 17 6.05 17 January 27.81 2015 (в€’1.85) (+9.45) (в€’7.6) (+0.88) (в€’2.76) (в€’0.64) (new party) 75 35.46 145 6.28 17 5.55 15 3.69 10 6.99 18 4.09 11 September 28.10 2015 (+0.29) (в€’0.88) (+1.6) (в€’0.08) (+1.06) (+0.71) (в€’1.96)   Source: Calculated from the website of the Hellenic Parliament (http://www.hellenicparliament.gr/Vouli-ton-Ellinon/To-Politevma/Ekloges/Eklogikaapotelesmata-New/#C). The 2009 vote share for Golden Dawn is available on the website of the Ministry of Interior (http://ekloges-prev.singularlogic.eu/v2009 /pages/index.html).   Note: For “Votes %” columns, the difference with the previous election is given in parentheses.   aThe results in this column are for the Democratic Left in the 2012 elections and the River for the 2015 elections. The Democratic Left received (in an alliance with the Greens) 0.48 percent of the votes and no seats in the January 2015 elections. In September 2015, the party entered into a preelection alliance with PASOK and won one seat. The River was founded in 2014 and ran on a center-left pro-EU platform.

The Rise of SYRIZA and Its Challenges to Democracy

In the 2012 and 2015 elections, SYRIZA’s success was perhaps the most surprising, since it increased its votes more than 22 percent in 2012 and formed the government three years later. This unexpected result was mainly due to three strategies followed by the party leadership. First, SYRIZA and its leader Alexis Tsipras embraced the Greek Outraged and civil disobedience movements, which had emerged from grassroots protests without any direct linkages to any party. SYRIZA’s stance contrasted with the traditional leftist party of Greece, the CP, which did not welcome movements that were not organized by the communists. SYRIZA’s decision to support all protest movements, including ones organized by other parties, “gave the impression of a coalition eager to cooperate with and unite a broad range of social and political forces.”83 Second, the electoral campaigns of SYRIZA were against the conditions of the memoranda and the policies of the EU, but they were never explicitly against the institutions of the EU per se. While Tsipras called for the “unilateral cancellation of public debt and withdrawal from the Memorandum’s engagement,”84 he also proposed the creation of a European Marshall Plan, “a proper banking union, a public debt centrally managed by the ECB,” and “a special conference on the European debt in the entire periphery, .В .В .В with a moratorium on interest payment.”85 The ability of SYRIZA to reject the EU’s current policies by advocating a European solution appealed to the majority of Greek voters, who still favored staying in the EU. Finally, during the campaigns, SYRIZA used populism and categorized society into two antagonistic groups: “us,” the blameless Greek people, versus “them,” the governing parties, foreign powers, the troika, financial elites, and even neoliberalism.86 Since the 1980s, all major parties in the Greek system had been populist to a degree;87 however, compared to the leaders of other parties, Tsipras shifted the blame to a more diverse set of actors and used negative rhetoric more frequently, as evidenced by his parliamentary speeches.88 This type of intense opposition to the “establishment” attracted increasing numbers of frustrated voters. SYRIZA, perceived by many as an extreme left-wing party,89 is sometimes Page 126 →even equated with the far right in posing a danger to Greek democracy.90 But SYRIZA’s threat to Greek democracy is not straightforward. Starting out as a coalition of different groups, SYRIZA became a formal party only in 2013, with the merger of more than a dozen different factions. These groups had diverse ideological orientations, and as a result, there are different currents within SYRIZA today, including social democrats, orthodox Marxists, Maoists, Trotskyists, and Ecologists.91 Its internal diversity makes SYRIZA an “inclusive populist”92 party. In the “us”-versus-“them” dichotomy, the “us” becomes a heterogeneous and diverse set, containing not only (and exclusively) the workers and the youth but also groups such as the immigrants and LGBT people, who are not truly represented by any other party in parliament.93 On the one hand, this type of plurality leads to policies that are more consensus-oriented and compatible with democratic principles than initially feared. On the other hand, it leads to multiple voices coming from within the party, with zigzagging policy results. SYRIZA’s performance in government since January 2015 has indeed produced mixed results. One of the first acts of the party in power was to reverse some of the decisions of the previous government, rehiring around 4,000 workers in the public sector and reopening the state television channel.94 Beyond these symbolic acts, the government adapted radical rhetoric in general and mobilized the voters. In practice, though, it promulgated policies similar to previous cabinets. As the former assistance program was coming to an end in February, the government began negotiating with the European powers for a better deal involving less austerity and debt cuts, which were key promises to the voters. A temporary agreement was reached in winter, but renewed discussions in spring led nowhere, and tensions between the lenders and Greece grew. In late June, the European Central Bank cut off the country’s access to emergency liquidity, leading to bank closures and strict capital controls for several weeks. In the critical months of the summer of 2015, when there were serious prospects of leaving the euro, the government took the bailout deal offered by the troika on 25

June to public vote. Prime Minister Tsipras symbolically advocated a no vote in the first referendum taking place since 1974. Sixty-one percent of the voters rejected the offer of the foreign creditors, and Tsipras received what he requested. However, to the surprise and opposition of many (including fellow party members and the coalition partner IG), Tsipras agreed to a new deal with the troika just a few days later, which imposed even harsher terms than the previous arrangement.95 In return for 86 billion euros, the third bailout agreement included no debt cuts and further austerity, including higher taxes, more pension reform, more privatizations, increased Page 127 →spending cuts, and the continued presence of the EU and IMF in economic decisions.96 Following the new deal, 25 parliament members of SYRIZA split from the party, making the government lose its majority. However, Tsipras did not lose any electoral blood in the September snap elections and renewed his mandate by forming a coalition again with IG. Both the resort to the ballot box and, especially, the pronouncement of the referendum revealed SYRIZA’s conception of democracy and use of populism. The rhetoric of the government campaign in the referendum included such elements as defeating the European powers, rejecting their ultimatum, persevering against their “blackmail,” and “fixing their wagon.” The referendum itself was praised by Tsipras as “an expression of democracy in response to the вЂauthoritarianism’ of the creditors.” However, by asking an unclear and confusing question in the ballot, holding the vote in short notice (less than two weeks), and being vague about the consequences of the no vote, SYRIZA did more damage to democracy than good.97 As any referendum does, the government relied on the decision of the majority, disregarding the views of the minority. This further polarized the electorate and politics in Greece into two irreconcilable camps. Yet, after the vote, the government turned a blind eye to the decisions of the voters and agreed to a third bailout. When it comes to action, SYRIZA turned out to be more mainstream than its rhetoric. But the false promise of ending austerity, coupled with the way the party intermingles populism with its own interpretation of democracy, might gradually lead to increasing disappointment and frustration among the voters. Events after the September 2015 elections paint a gloomy picture and show how the hope generated by SYRIZA is turning into dismay. Strike activity was renewed in November 2015 and led to clashes with riot police.98 A former minister of the party declared that “several SYRIZA officials with links to urban guerrilla groups made threats to him while he was a member of the cabinet” and applied to the courts.99 In the same month, a bomb went off in front of the SEV headquarters in Athens.100 All of these events show the continued bitterness of significant groups in society and their use of violence as an instrument to assert their positions. If SYRIZA fails to deliver on its promises or loses elections in the future, this bitterness might allow political groups that are clearly anti-democratic to find more ground.

The Golden Dawn and the Deconsolidation of Democracy One such anti-democratic group waiting for the opportunity to strengthen its vote base is Golden Dawn (GD). Founded in the 1980s, GD held its first congress (ornamented with swastika flags) in 1990 and registered as a party Page 128 →in 1993.101 Between 2005 and 2007, it ceased its political activities, only to come back in the 2010 local elections with 5.2 percent of the votes and a municipal council seat for its leader, Nikolaos Mihaloliakos. Although the party had never surpassed 1 percent of the votes until 2010, it got around 7 percent in the 2012 and 2015 elections, securing the party’s position as the third largest in the country, following SYRIZA and ND. GD’s ideology can be best described as right-wing totalitarian, with elements found in fascism, such as statism and paramilitarism.102 The party envisages establishing a “nationalist state,” which would refashion society and the individual. In this vision, the state, society, and the ethnic community would mean the same thing, and organizations that could divide the community, such as political parties, would not be allowed.103 Similar to other totalitarian groups, GD frequently

uses an all-embracing rhetoric—making references to “solidarity,” “comrades,” or “collective life”—and has established its own welfare services, such as blood and food drives, for only Greeks.104 Not shying away from being associated with past authoritarian regimes, party leaders explicitly praise the Metaxas regime, speak in favor of the colonels’ junta of 1967–74, make anti-Semitic remarks, or use symbols reminiscent of the Nazis, such as the emblem of the party and the Roman salute.105 The party is also openly racist, calling for the expulsion of the immigrants from Greece, setting up “ovens,” proposing to surround Greek borders with land mines, and advertising to “rid [the] country of the stench.”106 GD differs from other far-right parties in Europe in its combination of relatively high vote share, neo-Nazi attributes, explicit racist ideas, and complete rejection of democracy and all of its institutions. Moreover, the party uses violence as a means to advance its ideology, which is not shared by other European far-right parties.107 Violence against immigrants has increased substantially since the economic crisis,108 and some of these acts have been attributed to members of GD. In September 2013, a GD sympathizer was arrested for the murder of an anti-fascist singer. Following this tragedy, six parliamentarians—including Mihaloliakos—and more than 30 other members of GD were arrested for being part of a criminal organization. During the investigation, it became evident that some police officers were involved in the belligerent activities of GD.109 Despite the fact that its leadership was on trial and the party could not carry out a proper campaign, GD’s popularity in the 2015 elections did not diminish. In November 2013, two members of the party were murdered by a leftist guerrilla organization. Coupled with this event, bringing charges against the party created the notion of martyrdom among extreme right-wing voters.110 Page 129 →As long as the factors that gave rise to GD are in place, the party or its offshoots will continue to receive significant amounts of support among Greek voters. The party has capitalized on anti-memorandum, anti-establishment, and anti-EU sentiments among the electorate in the post-2009 period. The fact that it was outside of the parliament during the signing of the memoranda gave it credibility as a party disassociated with the rotten practices of the political elite. GD’s main competitor, the Popular Orthodox Rally (POR), had received 3.8 and 5.6 percent of the votes in the 2007 and 2009 elections respectively. But the party had moderated its stance once in parliament, voted yes on the bailout deals, and cooperated with the mainstream parties in the interim technocratic government of 2011–12. As POR lost its reliability, GD filled the vacuum. With SYRIZA’s disappointing agreement with the troika over a third bailout, GD and the CP have become the only parties in parliament that strictly oppose negotiating with foreign powers and implementing the memoranda. GD has also become the only party that offers a direct “solution” to Greece’s immigration problem. The growing number of Asian and African immigrants in Greece, reaching to almost 9 percent of the population, made them an easy target when the economic crisis began to drain the resources of everyone. In 2015, immigration became an even thornier issue, with around half a million mostly Syrian refugees arriving on Greek shores.111 The inability of the Greek state to address the issue of immigration and asylum with concrete and just policies contributed to the problem. Although IG is also anti-immigrant, GD seemed like a party that could tackle this issue head-on.112 While its ideology proposed cleansing Greece from the immigrants, its practices gave the impression that it can provide security from their supposedly criminal activities. The GD members successfully organized in the local communities, patrolled streets and provided bodyguard services to the elderly, painting a benign image. By delivering security, health, and food, the party also became a trustworthy organization among many Greeks, who did not have much confidence in the state institutions and their ability to perform these services.113 Because the GD leaders claimed that they were financing these activities from the money given by the state to political parties in parliament, they were also able to assert their morality as the only party that would give back to the Greeks instead of stealing from them.114 For Greece’s democracy, not only the relative success of GD and (to a lesser extent) SYRIZA and IG is of concern. The combination of the rise of anti-system marginal parties and increasing levels of violence exercised by political groups leads to alarm. Both the far-right and the far-left have begun Page 130 →using

violence as a means to advance their interests, as the spike in the number of terrorist activities in the early 2010s shows. This contradicts one of the procedural conditions of democracy, the nonviolent competition to govern. Moreover, many Greeks now perceive nondemocratic ways of expression as valid means to advance interests. The results of a public opinion survey published in December 2010 showed that “14 [percent] of the respondents recognized violence as a legitimate means of expression and making claims, whilst 10 [percent] expressed toleration towards the perpetration of damage to buildings and shops.”115 Another survey conducted by Metron Analysis revealed that according to 20 percent, “political assassinations and terrorist attacks вЂhave a social and moral justification’.”116 These results, along with the electoral popularity of GD, demonstrate that a significant number of Greeks do not regard democracy as “the only game in town.”117 Indeed, a poll in April 2013 demonstrated that 30 percent agreed with the statement that things were better during the 1967–74 colonels’ regime than at the time of the survey. In terms of security, an incredible 59 percent said that things were better during the dictatorship, while a remarkable 46 percent declared that “they lived better” during the junta years.118 The changing atmosphere in Greek politics toward increasing acceptance of nondemocratic alternatives is undeniable. But this does not mean that democracy will necessarily collapse. An important element of the change, when compared with the past, is the role of the military. If it were the pre-1970s in Greece, sections within the military would have intervened to stop the advance of SYRIZA, repress the protestors, and perhaps even collaborate with GD. Members of the business community, who have been adversely affected by the crisis and view SYRIZA’s policies with concern, would have supported the military’s initiatives. Like the rise of the Center Union and the lower-class activism of the 1960s, the street protests, strikes, and SYRIZA’s increasing vote share would have probably resulted in the creation of an authoritarian regime, possibly (in contrast to the 1960s) in collaboration with some segments of the business community. Now, quite unlike half a century ago, the military does not have power or any dominance in politics. Mainstream politicians are committed to democracy and do not perceive immediate threats to their security if the opposition wins the elections. Escalation of violence has not reached the level of the 1970s in Turkey, where it led to anarchy and the downfall of the regime. Thus, although democracy has deconsolidated, it will probably survive the economic crisis and come to a new equilibrium once the worst effects of the crunch come to an end. Page 131 →This chapter analyzed the consolidation of democracy in the 1980s and the recent deconsolidation of the regime. In the 1980s, the experience of an unwanted authoritarian regime caused most of the right-wing political, economic, and military elites to prefer democracy. Even when PASOK, with its history of threatening rhetoric, came to power, the majority of the elites did not favor an authoritarian solution. Power alternated peacefully between ND and PASOK, and democracy became the “only game in town” until the economic crisis of the 2000s. But the fiscal crisis shook the Greek economy deeply and resulted in the fundamental erosion of hitherto established elite-electorate relations. It deconstructed the political system and consequently deconsolidated democracy. As SYRIZA came to power, it polarized Greek politics further along pro-memorandum and anti-memorandum lines and mobilized its followers with a populist understanding of democracy. The persistent presence of the totalitarian far-right current, increasing legitimization of violence against political opponents and immigrants, tolerance toward the use of brutal force as a tool to express dissatisfaction with politics, and perceptions that are nostalgic of the authoritarian past are disrupting Greek democracy after nearly three decades.

Page 132 →

6. More of the Same? Turkey under Coalition Governments and One-Party Dominance Turkish democracy did not consolidate in the aftermath of the 1980 military coup. On the contrary, the military increased its political powers and prerogatives. Another military intervention in 1997, precipitated by elite conflict during the years of coalition governments, showed the continuing preeminence of the military and precarious support for democracy in Turkish politics.1 In 2001, Turkey experienced the worst financial debacle in its history. Similar to events in Greece in the aftermath of such a crisis, the Turkish party system fundamentally changed, and almost all of the old parties of the 1980s and 1990s disappeared from the political scene. In the 2002 elections, a new formation, the Justice and Development Party (JDP), established a single-party government for the first time since the early 1980s. The party renewed its mandate in the following elections, partially thanks to the economic stability that accompanied its rule. Contrary to events in Greece, where fragmentation increased, the number of parties that entered the parliament in Turkey was reduced, and the era of unstable coalition governments that prevailed there in the 1990s came to an end with the economic crisis. The military also lost its power and dominance in the political system. Yet government stability and taming the military have not meant democratic consolidation. The victories of the JDP marked increasing polarization among the elite, a major protest against the government, and a shift toward authoritarianism.

The Rise of the Welfare Party and the Coup of 1997 The 1983 elections were won by the newly founded Motherland Party (MP) of Turgut Г–zal. The MP governments ruled the country until 1991, and until Page 133 →his election to the presidency in 1989, Г–zal served as the prime minister. A referendum in 1987 recognized the right of return to politics for politicians who had been banned from participating in elections. SГјleyman Demirel became the leader of the mainstream right-wing True Path Party (TPP), BГјlent Ecevit took the reins at the center-left Democratic Left Party (DLP), Necmettin Erbakan assumed the chairmanship of the religious Welfare Party (WP), and Alpaslan TГјrkeЕџ headed the party that eventually changed its name to Nationalist Action Party (NAP). The first free and fair elections were conducted after the lifting of the restriction remaining from the 1980 coup. But in a few years, the increasing influence of the anti-regime WP became a problem, leading to the 1997 coup (table 6.1 summarizes the causes of the intervention). The dominance of the military in politics was also a predicament. The decisions military commanders made in the National Security Council were not mere recommendations anymore; cabinets were forced to accept them by the lingering implicit threat of a coup. The NSC bureaucracy, made up mostly of military officers, followed up on how civilian institutions carried out the NSC resolutions. This period in Turkey also witnessed the rise of Kurdish separatist activities. The military actively fought against the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), which formed a guerrilla-type organization in the southeast regions. The armed forces had almost total autonomy from civilians regarding the conduct of this warfare. The MP governments adopted the neoliberal economic program of the coup years. The ISI strategy was abandoned for an export-oriented policy. The growth in the economy was 4.8 percent in 1980–89, 5.5 percent in 1990–93, and 7.7 percent in 1995–97.2 Yet economic growth was coupled with negative developments. While the current account imbalance averaged 5.2 percent of GNP between 1980 and 1997, the foreign debt averaged 40 percent of GNP between 1983 and 1997.3 In the crisis year of 1994, inflation rose to 150 percent, and income inequality worsened, with the Gini coefficient reaching as high as 0.50.4 Neoliberal policies,

moreover, did not mean a decline in the influence of the state. While the bureaucracy (oftentimes in competition with governments) had distributed incentives to businesses in the past, political parties engaged in rent-seeking behavior more in the post-1980 era. Companies that already had a high market share and close contacts with the current mainstream governing parties earned rewards in the form of export subsidies and lucrative deals in the privatization of public enterprises. Influential people were offered high interest rates for savings, provided both by the state institutions and the burgeoning banking sector. Scandals involving tax evasion or fictitious exports were the darkest face of this period in the economy.5 Page 134 → Table 6.1. Summary Analysis of the 1997 Coup in Turkey Moderate Costs of Toleration in the 1990s Elites threatened?

Yes

Perception of threat to the The coalition of the WP and TPP; the former’s religious policies military’s interests Perception of threat to the political Corruption scandals and risks of impeachment for the TPP; secular politicians threatened by the WP policies elites’ interests Perception of threat to the business Bad economic policies of the WP-TPP government and the formation of MÜSİAD as a rival of TÜSİAD community’s interests Elites threatened by Yes each other? A significant portion of the electorate Yes—the WP came to power as the bigger party of the two-party coalition expected to vote for radical parties that

could come to power? Lower classes engaged in threatening contentious action?

No

Outcome

Unconsolidated Democracy with Coups Procedural conditions partially fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal support Low Costs of Suppression during the 1997 Intervention

Military commanders had more power Yes than the opposition? Resources of the Continued economic power of the military military Alliance between the lower classes The WP organized a rally in May 1997 to bring together its supporters, but there were no other instances and there were explicit calls for and political tranquility elites against the intervention Transition from the last military Increased military prerogatives after the 1980 coup intervention Military commanders had support Yes from other elites? Support /collaboration of Yes—the TPP deputies resigned; opposition parties formed an alternative coalition government with the support of President Demirel; the the political judiciary closed down the WP elites

Support of the business community Unified military? Elites signaled their opposition at the beginning Other military officers on the bandwagon at the beginning

Yes—TÜSİAD, TOBB, and TİSK criticized the government and supported the postmodern coup Yes Initial hesitation from the WP, but other politicians supported the intervention

Yes—the intervention was carried out by the military chain of command

Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits No within the military Successful Coup Outcome The military forced an alternative government, radical Islam was eliminated, and the successor of the WP could not take part in the 1999 government Page 135 →The post-1980s also saw the ascendency of small and medium-sized companies that focused their activities on subcontracting production for both bigger domestic enterprises and foreign companies. These businesses were now increasingly organized in industrial districts and making their presence felt not only in provincial towns but also in urban centers such as Istanbul. Given their status and size, however, they were unable to get the profitable contracts from which bigger companies were benefiting. To strengthen, they formed their own voluntary organization, the Independent Industrialists’ and Businessmen’s Association (MГњSД°AD), in 1990. By 1998, MГњSД°AD had 3,000 members, and although most of the companies employed fewer than 25 people, there were several bigger conglomerates backing up the new association.6 In its economic recommendations and political affiliation, MГњSД°AD rivaled TГњSД°AD, the association representing secular big business since the 1970s. Economic reasons partially explain the rise of the WP in the 1990s. In particular, income inequality led underprivileged groups in the urban centers to shift their allegiance from mainstream political parties to the WP. The core base of the party since the 1970s—namely, the small and medium-sized entrepreneurs and MГњSД°AD members—also supported the WP. The party’s economic doctrine, called the “Just Order,” promised to deal with inflation, unemployment, and consumerism at the same time.7 The populist and religious rhetoric of the party appealed to religious groups, who believed that they were the downtrodden of the Kemalist/secularist order that went hand-in-hand with the neoliberal socioeconomic system of the 1980s and 1990s. Although the WP could not gain the 10 percent necessary to pass the threshold required to send representatives to the parliament in the 1980s, it increased its votes

with every new election in the following decade. In the 1991 elections, the WP (in a preelection coalition with two other parties) polled 17 percent. In the local elections of 1994, the party won in more than 20 cities, including Istanbul and Ankara, with a 19 percent nationwide vote share. Finally, in the 1995 general elections, the party got 21 percent and, with 158 seats, became the largest party in parliament. Due to voter fragmentation among mainstream parties, a radical party in Turkey had received the plurality of the votes for the first time. In the aftermath of the elections, it was possible to keep the WP out of government by forming a coalition among the mainstream political parties. However, six months after the elections, in what looked like the repetition of pre-1980 politics, the TPP decided to form a coalition with the WP, despite the TPP’s electoral campaign based on an anti-WP theme. Corruption investigations against the leader of the TPP, Tansu Г‡iller, Page 136 →played the crucial role in this decision. After the government was formed, charges against Г‡iller—such as the accusation that she was involved, during her premiership, in rigging bids in the privatization of two state companies—were dropped with votes from the coalition parties.8 In a similar parliamentary investigation regarding aid money that the WP collected for Bosnia but then allegedly pocketed, the accused were acquitted by TPP deputies.9 Indeed, in a clear give-and-take relationship between the partners, charges brought against each other by the WP and TPP were killed by the same parties’ members after the government was formed. Scandals surrounding the coalition government got worse in November 1996, when it was revealed that a high-ranking police officer, a mafia leader searched for by Interpol, and a TPP deputy were traveling together in a car that crashed in Susurluk.10 In the following months, MP leader Mesut YД±lmaz alleged that Г‡iller’s husband and the TPP minister of the interior, Mehmet AДџar, were involved in a deep state network existing within the police and intelligence forces, cooperating with the mafia, and responsible for illegal activities such as murders, drug trafficking, and gambling.11 SГјleyman Demirel, who had been elected to the presidency after Г–zal’s death in 1993, asked the government to investigate the allegations. Yet the parliamentary commission responsible for investigating the Susurluk affair failed to reach any substantial conclusions, thanks to the WP commissioners, who acted in favor of their coalition partners. The Susurluk investigation by the judiciary did not lead to satisfactory results in the aftermath of the accident either. This type of cooperation between the TPP and WP intimidated the other elites the most and, in their perception, necessitated the military intervention of February 1997. Although the WP’s vote share was not minimal, the threat was perceived as being not the electorate but the WP leaders and mainstream parties that cooperated with it for personal reasons. One of the primary reasons for this perception was the relative absence of street activities or demonstrations, rallies, and strikes by the WP voters. As argued by Turam, unlike other Middle Eastern countries, “exiting the system by overthrowing it has never been an attractive option for Turkish Islamic social forces.”12 This might have been due to the earlier participation of religious parties, under the leadership of Erbakan, in coalition governments in the 1970s. According to Yavuz, the earlier involvement “encouraged the socialization of democratic rules by Islamic groups. This learning process and inclusion prevented the radicalization or use of force by Islam-oriented parties in Turkey.”13 Compared to the situations during the 1970s in Turkey and the interwar period in Greece, lower-class activism during the WP’s ascendency to power was nonexistent. Moreover, the majority of the population continuedPage 137 → to support mainstream politics and secularism. The “One Minute of Darkness for Constant Light” demonstrations showed the readiness of the citizens to defend clean politics and the Kemalist principles. Initially, that movement, which began in Istanbul on 1 February 1997, only entailed people switching off their lights for one minute at 9:00 p.m. However, it quickly snowballed into 30 million participants, some of whom went beyond merely turning off their lights, taking their protests onto the streets and demonstrating against the government.14 In the first few months of the WP-TPP coalition, a wait-and-see attitude prevailed among the elites, reflecting the belief that Prime Minister Erbakan would not adopt the radical policies he had advocated to gain votes. Initial action against the government was limited to 10 TPP deputies voting against the formation of the coalition

in parliament and to President Demirel vetoing the first two laws that the government enacted. In response to Г‡iller’s portrayal of TГњSД°AD and state workers as “bloodsuckers,” TГњSД°AD members and several leaders of the labor associations, including DД°SK and TГњRK-Д°Ећ, made anti-government declarations.15 In the later months, however, the growing consensus among the elites was that verbal warnings would not be enough. Although the WP did not attempt any constitutional or anti-capitalist policies, several symbolic actions raised threat levels.16 Erbakan’s trips to Asia and Africa included visits to states that had been considered rogue by Turkish officials, such as Iran and Libya.17 Erbakan’s dinner for religious sheikhs in the prime minister’s residence, accusations that the party was organizing its own security forces in Kayseri, attempts to place WP sympathizers in public offices, proposals to build a mosque in the Taksim Square of Istanbul, and the Iranian ambassador’s public call for sharia during a meeting organized by the WP’s Sincan mayor were interpreted as anti-secular activities. The government did not fare any better in terms of economic policy. It tried to allow untaxed automobile imports and prepared a budget that consisted of unreal revenues. Both actions of the WP-TPP coalition were heavily criticized by labor and business groups.18 Attempts to build an alternative coalition government began in early February. A group of unions including the DД°SK and TГњRK-Д°Ећ, with the support of President Demirel, approached the leaders of the RPP and DLP in an attempt to bring those parties together in an alternative government.19 In late 1996, the general staff established the West Study Group, which investigated the activities of the government and assessed who would support the armed forces in case of an armed conflict between the military and the Islamists.20 In the regular NSC meeting on 28 February 1997, the military commanders put forth an eighteen-point recommendation list that named Page 138 →Islamic revivalism as the biggest threat that the country faced. The points, which the generals asked Prime Minister Erbakan to sign, criticized the coalition government and its actions against secularism. The first response of Erbakan to what was later dubbed the “postmodern coup” was hesitant: he stalled signing the NSC decisions at first and then postponed acting as the list of recommendations prescribed. In a onetime attempt to demonstrate his power, he organized a rally in May in Istanbul, with more than 100,000 participants. In retaliation, Chief of the General Staff Д°smail HakkД± KaradayД± ordered military commanders to stay put during the summer, thus signaling that he was prepared to stage an overt coup if necessary. Morever, the general staff organized a number of orientations that proclaimed religious politics as a great threat that should be immediately stopped.21 Members of the judicial branch, mainstream journalists, academics, and businesspeople participated in these briefings, showing their approval of the 28 February process.22 Leaders of the businesspeople’s associations (e.g., TГњSД°AD, TД°SK, and TOBB) had already shown their disdain for the WP-TPP government. TOBB and TД°SK also collaborated with TГњRK-Д°Ећ, DД°SK, and the Confederation of Turkish Tradesmen and Craftsmen (TESK) to establish the Civil Initiative group, which advocated secularism and called for the end of the government in its meetings around the country.23 This collaboration occurred in tandem with the military’s campaign against businesses that were thought to be engaging in illegal activities to aid political Islam. Around 100 enterprises, including prominent MГњSД°AD members and two big holding companies, were ostracized. In April and May 1998, several businesspeople were arrested, and the chairman of MГњSД°AD was charged with inciting hatred.24 On 20 May 1997, the state prosecutor opened a case against the WP and demanded the party’s closure. During the summer, 20 TPP deputies resigned from their parties, and two ministers quit their posts. The government came under a “psychological siege,” where civil society groups pressured it to the extent that the military appeared to be only one of the actors.25 In June, faced with mounting criticism from the military and civilians, combined with the increasing difficulties of holding the parliamentary majority together, Erbakan resigned from the premiership. Subsequently, President Demirel gave the responsibility of forming the new government to YД±lmaz, and in less than two weeks, the MP and DLP, with the backing of TPP renegades, established the new government.26 The coalition of secular parties carried out the most significant elements of the February 1997 NSC recommendations.27 The most controversial regulation, increasing compulsory primary education to eight years in order to prevent religious secondary education, was carried out Page 139 →immediately by the new government. The cabinet also

signed a protocol, publicly known as EMASYA, that allowed military units to step in against what they considered illegal activities, without consulting governors. The same protocol allowed the armed forces to blacklist and keep a record of individuals, without informing civilian authorities. With this notorious protocol, the government gave the military unprecedented authority. A new set of corruption scandals against Prime Minister YД±lmaz resulted in the disintegration of the coalition in January 1999, but the intervention had already lost its steam by that time, thanks to the cooperation and pressure of mainstream politicians, state officials (especially the judiciary), secular businesspeople, and trade unions. Moreover, the February 1997 intervention in Turkey was carried out by a unified military. Although 161 officers were dismissed during the process because they were suspected of being involved in fundamentalist activities, there were no visible splits among the upper or lower ranks of the armed forces. Faced with a unified opposition, the fate of the WP in the subsequent years was dark. In January 1998, the Constitutional Court banned the party and forbade Erbakan to return to active politics for five years. As an important indicator of the WP leadership’s refusal to mobilize its supporters against the secularist coalition, Erbakan explicitly asked party supporters not to demonstrate against the decision.28 The party cadres and leadership founded the Virtue Party (VP) in 1998, adopting policies oriented more toward the status quo. In the 1999 elections, the VP got around 15 percent of the votes and became the third-largest party in parliament. Demonstrating the success of the postmodern coup, however, none of the mainstream parties collaborated with the VP. The winner of the elections, BГјlent Ecevit’s DLP, formed a coalition with the NAP and MP. The coalition lasted until the 2002 general elections. In this way, both the VP and the TPP (the remaining two parties that had seats in parliament) were left out of the government by politicians who endorsed the 1997 intervention. Indeed, the coalition between the military, politicians, and secular business elites explains the success of the February 1997 process in eliminating the WP and keeping its successors away from power. The VP was closed down by the Constitutional Court in 2001, which caused the movement to split up into two factions. The younger and moderately Islamist factions of the movement established the JDP, which has dominated Turkish politics since 2002. The older and traditionalist members of the party, keeping more in line with WP policies, established the Felicity Party. That party received less than 3 percent of the votes in the 2002 elections, marking the disappearance of the more radical version of religious politics in Turkey. Page 140 →

Political Turning Points between 1999 and 2002 The 1990s in Turkish politics were characterized by party fragmentation and unstable coalition governments (see table 6.2 for electoral results after 1987, the first elections after the 1980 coup in which past political parties and leaders were allowed to participate freely). In November 1989, Turgut Г–zal was elected president by the parliament and left his position as prime minister and leader of the MP. Following his ascendancy, 10 different governments and six different prime ministers came to power in less than 10 years. However, the coalition of the DLP, NAP, and MP after the April 1999 elections oversaw four critical turning points in Turkish politics, which led to the beginning of an entirely new era in just three and a half years. The first event was the temporary defeat of the PKK following the arrest of its leader, Abdullah Г–calan, in February 1999. Since its inception in 1984, this conflict in southeast Turkey, fought mainly between the guerrilla forces of the PKK and the Turkish Armed Forces, had led to many issues, ranging from human rights to the outpouring of economic resources. Г–calan was seen by many Turks as the main protagonist of this conflict, which cost more than 40,000 lives and the additional suffering of three million internal migrants. In October 1998, Turkey forced Syria to oust Г–calan from his sanctuary in its territories. After seeking asylum in several

countries, Г–calan was captured in Nairobi, Kenya, as he was being transferred from the Greek embassy. This event had occurred just before the 1999 elections, during the minority DLP government. The incident increased the popularity of the DLP and the nationalist NAP and explains the otherwise unexpected surge in their vote share. The newly elected coalition government was given the mandate to manage Г–calan’s trial. In June 1999, the courts issued a death sentence, but in January 2000, the government made the decision to postpone the execution and wait for the verdict of the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). In October 2001, the parliament passed constitutional changes in accordance with the EU acquis that restricted the use of the death penalty.29 In this decision, several factors were critical, including Г–calan’s and the PKK’s calls for increased democracy and the government’s calculation that executing Г–calan would lead to more violence.30 In the years immediately following Г–calan’s capture, the activities of the PKK were subdued, and prospects for a peaceful and permanent solution in southeast Turkey increased. This had the additional consequence of the military’s relative withdrawal from the center stage in the Kurdish issue, making it possible to question the role of the military in politics in general.31 Now that the war Page 142 →had been won, the armed forces could play a secondary role, rather than a leading one, in resolving the dispute. Page 141 → Table 6.2. Turkish Election Results between 1987 and 1999 Motherland Democratic Left True Path Welfare party (WP) / Social Democratic Populist Party (SPP) / Nationalist Action Otherc a b Party (MP) Party (DLP) Party (TPP) Party (NAP) Virtue Party (VP) Republican People’s Party (RPP) Year Votes No. of No. of Votes No. of No. of No. of No. of Votes No. of Votes % Votes % Votes % Votes % % Seats Seats % Seats Seats Seats Seats % Seats 1987 36.31 292 8.53 19.14 59 7.16 24.74 99 — В 4.12 — 0d 0d 1991 24.01 115 10.75 7 27.03 178 16.88 62 20.75 88 — В 0.57 — 1995 19.65 132 14.64 76 19.18 135 21.38 158 10.71 49 8.18 6.27 — 0d 1999 13.22 86 22.19 136 12.01 85 15.41 111 8.71 17.98 129 10.48 3 0d   Source: Compiled from the website of the Turkish Statistical Institute (http://www.tuik.gov.tr/UstMenu.do?metod=temelist).   aAfter the Welfare Party was closed down by the Constitutional Court in 1998, its members established the Virtue Party, which was also shut down in 2001.   bAfter being banned by the 1980 coup, the RPP resumed its activities in 1992. The Social Democratic Populist Party joined the RPP in 1995 and dissolved itself.   cAll valid votes given to other parties and individuals are calculated. In the 1999 elections, the three seats were won by independents.   dBelow the 10% threshold. The second critical event during the term of the coalition government was the decision of the European Union, in its Helsinki summit in December 1999, to grant candidate status to Turkey. The capturing of Г–calan and the EU candidacy were not entirely unrelated. On the one hand, Г–calan’s arrest precipitated the judgment of the EU. A reversal in Greece’s foreign policy toward its neighbor and longtime adversary was discernible after Greece clearly aided the leader of the PKK, a terrorist sought by Interpol. Greece lifted its veto along with Germany and opened the door for Turkey’s possible future membership in the EU. In addition, the seeming solution to Turkey’s conflict with the PKK recalibrated assessments, in several European capitals, toward the country’s

democratization prospects and its capacity to fulfill political criteria necessary for membership. On the other hand, following its candidacy, the Turkish government began a series of reforms in order to adapt to the EU acquis. The seats of the military in a panel of three judges in the notorious State Security Courts (SSC) were eliminated, and as discussed above, the government renounced carrying out capital punishment. Both decisions were clearly related to the Kurdish issue: Г–calan’s execution was on the table, and the SSC, established after the 1980 coup, tried incidences of terrorism and threats to the security of the state. Apart from putting the Kurdish dispute on the right track, the EU candidacy also gave an impetus to carry out a wider set of reforms on human rights and civil-military relations. Together, the capturing of Г–calan and the possibility of integrating with the EU provided an environment of security in which efforts toward democratization could take hold. Not every development in the three-year span of the coalition government was positive. In August 1999, a devastating earthquake with a 7.4 magnitude on the Richter scale hit the economically most prosperous Western parts of the country, causing close to 20,000 deaths, 25,000 injuries, and damage to 330,000 buildings. The incapacity of the state in the first weeks following the earthquake, as well as the revelation that funds supposedly saved for humanitarian relief had been embezzled by officials, led to widespread resentment among the citizenry toward politicians and the government. Politicians and other state officials were accused of turning a blind eye to shabby construction, built in the previous decades in return for kickbacks. The minister of health became infamous for rejecting foreign aid in the aftermath of the earthquake. Extensive media coverage of the disaster and evidence of the positive work done by civil society organizations in distributing Page 143 →aid and rescuing victims demonstrated, all the more clearly, the inadequacy of national and local officials.32 Also in 1999, the government signed a standby agreement with the IMF in order to curtail the rampant inflation rate, which had reached 105 percent in 1994 and hovered around 85 percent in the subsequent four years.33 Part of the reason Turkey had high inflation rates was government spending, which accelerated especially with the 1987 elections and party fragmentation.34 In a story all too familiar from the Greek case, political parties tried to distribute favors and buy the loyalty of electoral groups, such as farmers, by increasing subsidies or expanding the government sector. Employment in the public sector from 1997 to 1999 averaged 14 percent of total employment. Although perhaps not a radical number compared with that in Greece a decade later, the cost of personnel expenses for the state budget was nevertheless quite massive, averaging 31 percent from 1990 to 1999.35 Again similar to Greece, after personnel costs, the most striking item in the budget was national defense expenditures, averaging 5 percent during the same years.36 In 1999, Turkey spent 5.4 percent of its GDP on defense, which was the highest percentage among all NATO countries, followed closely by Greece at 4.8 percent.37 In 1999, the earthquakes also contributed to fiscal problems. Concurrently, the budget deficit increased from 2.23 percent of GDP in 1990 to 8.75 percent in 1999.38 To deal with budgetary problems and control the inflation, the IMF plan envisioned a set of structural reforms and a fiscal target, along with a fixed exchange rate. The Central Bank’s ability to control monetary policy was constrained by fixing the bank’s net domestic assets and allowing monetary expansion only through net foreign assets, which ultimately depended on foreign exchange inflows.39 These measures had serious consequences, however, given Turkey’s economic setting. Turkey had completed the liberalization of its economy in August 1989, which meant the free flow of capital, full convertibility of the Turkish lira, floating interest rates, and the establishment of a short-term money market.40 Under these conditions, the fixed exchange rate led to the perception that there was no currency risk and to accelerated short-term borrowing by overconfident private and public banks. The government, for its part, sought debt financing through borrowing from domestic banks, which caused banks to shift their assets to bond financing.41 But the banks relied on foreign borrowing to finance government debt. This situation—“borrowing abroad, lending at home”42—amplified the fragility of Turkish banks to sudden changes in capital flows. The ratio of shortterm foreign debt to the Central Bank’s foreign reserves—an important indicator Page 144 →of vulnerability if above 60 percent—increased to 112 percent in June 2000.43 Given the inability of the Central Bank to provide liquidity in a time of crisis, the whole system had become vulnerable to foreign capital inflows.

The second consequence of the IMF program was the sudden decrease in interest rates. The interest rate on government debt securities decreased from an average of 107.6 percent in the second half of 1999 to 39.5 in the first half of 2000.44 Low rates fueled a consumption boom and higher levels of imports. The current account balance was 0.73 percent of GDP in 1998 (before the program began) but dropped to в€’3.72 percent in 2000.45 To meet the rising demand for consumer credit, which increased by 300 percent from December 1999 to October 2000, the banks depended more heavily on short-term foreign borrowing. But the current accounts imbalance weakened investor confidence. Moreover, the inflation rate was much higher (on average 63 percent) in the first six months of 2000 than what the IMF program had envisioned for the end of this year (25 percent). This necessitated taking extra measures, which the government did not seem to commence. The deviation from the IMF goals, including the continuation of a high budget deficit and failure to carry out privatizations due to disputes among coalition partners, led to doubts about the viability of the program.46 Risk assessment of the lenders was also pessimistic due to the failure of similar programs of pegged currency in several other developing economies, such as Mexico, Thailand, Russia, Brazil, and Argentina. The November 2000 crisis was triggered by the default in September of a Romanian bank owned by a private Turkish bank. The fact that BayД±ndД±rbank could not save its Romanian counterpart clearly demonstrated the vulnerability of the Turkish banking system. A month later, Etibank, which recently had been privatized, was appropriated by the newly founded Saving Deposit Insurance Fund. Since there was a belief that Etibank was discreetly affiliated with Demirbank, the latter bank began to face difficulties in borrowing from external and internal markets. Demirbank held approximately 10 percent of government securities. Thus, when the bank attempted to sell its assets, the crisis quickly spread to the rest of the financial sector. The creation of the Banking Regulation and Supervision Agency, its attempt to impose regulations, and the arrest of several bank owners had already led to suspicion among banks toward one other.47 The interbank overnight interest rates increased from an average of 26 percent in July 2000 (the lowest rate in the year) to 80 percent in November and 199 percent in December. The crisis was initially averted with the decision of the Central Bank to sell 22 percent of its foreign reserves in two weeks and with an additional IMF loan. But confidence in the Turkish economy had already dwindled in Page 145 →the financial markets. In the context of this fragile environment, on 19 February 2001, Prime Minister Ecevit declared that there was a serious political crisis between him and the president of the Republic.48 Following this announcement, capital flight became massive, interbank overnight interest rates skyrocketed to an average of 4,019 percent, and the Central Bank lost 19 percent of its foreign currency reserves in a week. The government was left with no option but to abandon the IMF program and the pegged exchange-rate system. In 10 days, the Turkish lira devalued by 40 percent, marking what had now become a currency crisis. The effects of the crisis on the economy were severe. In 2001, the economy contracted by 5.7 percent, and there was a 31 percent increase, compared with the previous year, in companies and cooperatives that ceased operations.49 By October 2002, a total of 24 banks were closed.50 Since many private businesses shut down and since existing ones had difficulties paying their debts or finding new credit, the unemployment rate increased from 6.5 percent in 2000 to 8.4 and 10.4 percent in the following two years.51 The government tried to tackle these problems by inviting Kemal DerviЕџ, a technocrat with more than 20 years of experience in the World Bank, to serve as the minister of state responsible for the economy. Under the leadership of DerviЕџ, a new economic program, entitled “Transition to Strong Economy,” was declared in the spring of 2001. A new deal, involving a loan of $10 million, was reached with the IMF in February 2002. Despite the efforts of the government, death bells were ringing for the coalition and the party system in Turkey. The government was viewed as responsible for triggering the crisis, through irresponsible declarations. Perceptions of corruption were also important. In the context following the Susurluk scandal, voters already doubted politicians’ sincerity. From 1997 to 2001, the Corruption Perceptions Index score for Turkey averaged 3.5, dropping to 3.2 in 2002.52 The inability to keep the banking sector under control—despite, for instance, a law that put a limit on foreign borrowing by private banks—led to feelings that bank owners’ debase operations were overlooked by politicians. Owners of holding companies or people with shady business pasts were given banking licenses through their

connections with the political elite. Despite reports of irregularities by auditors, again no measures were taken.53 Thus, the banking crisis alluded to deeper political problems. The period between 1999 and 2000 had witnessed events that made the country ripe for a major political change. In the aftermath of the Susurluk scandal and the 1997 military intervention, there was already a move toward different parties among the voters. The unexpected rise of the DLP and, most notably, the NAP (from no seats in parliament in 1994 to 129 in 1999) Page 146 →can be explained by the already increasing voter volatility. The earthquake and the economic crisis became the fatal blows. With the capturing of Г–calan and EU candidacy, the path was opened toward a new kind of politics, one that could democratize the country, integrate diverse ethnic and religious groups, manage the economy, and be honest.

A Bogus Turn toward Democratic Consolidation A new party that was founded in 2001 held out the promise of putting Turkey’s politics and economy on the right track. The Justice and Development Party was established by an innovative and younger generation of ex-members of the WP. Among the leading founders, a first among equals, was Recep Tayyip ErdoДџan, who had served as the WP mayor of Istanbul from 1994 and 1998 and was imprisoned for several months in 1999 for reciting a poem in a rally. The second founder, Abdullah GГјl, had served as a WP lawmaker in the 1990s, vice president of the party, and the minister of state and spokesperson of the WP-TPP coalition. Another member of the WP, BГјlent ArД±nГ§, had been elected to the parliament on a VP ticket in 1999 and worked as the chairman of the party group in the national assembly. When the VP was closed down by the Constitutional Court in 2001, this group of politicians, among others, decided to diverge from the path of former religious parties and establish a new organization with a conservative democratic orientation.54 Explicitly renouncing any continuity with the WP or the VP, the JDP successfully targeted center-right voters and rebuilt the MP constituency. In a context where old political parties had lost their credibility altogether, the JDP promised clean politics and economic growth based on neoliberal, open-market principles. The party embraced the republic and secularism while advocating freedom of expression and conscience, minority rights, rule of law, and pluralism.55 The JDP also took on a pro-EU stance and vowed to carry out the democratization reforms required for membership. The pro-EU attitudes of the majority of the voters and the belief among the JDP leadership that support from the EU would protect the party from repression by the military played an important part in this policy. Moreover, the JDP calculated that secular elites would feel less threatened by democratization reforms that would create a breathing space, and the party expected to prove its sincerity in internalizing democracy and European political values.56 With its program emphasizing “competence, integrity, and democracy,” the JDP portrayed an image that was “more center-right than Islamist” and Page 147 →won the elections in 2002 (see table 6.3).57 The only other party that was represented in the assembly was the RPP, the oldest party in Turkey that had no seats (and therefore no responsibility) during the 2001 economic crisis. Surely enough, the success of the JDP was due in part to the failure of the old parties. Crippled with corruption scandals and economic crisis, all of the parties of the 1980s and 1990s gained less than 10 percent of the vote and therefore remained outside of the parliament. In the eyes of the voters, they had no potential to turn the defeat of the PKK and the EU carrot into something beneficial while dealing with the political and economic problems facing the country.58 Socioeconomically, the JDP voters formed a diverse coalition of forces from urban and rural lower classes, as well as small artisans and merchants. The elite coalition that backed the party was also quite diverse, which explains the sudden rise of the party to power. Two previously irreconcilable business groups, both the

secular and the religious factions, supported the party. The secular factions, such as TГњSД°AD, found in the JDP an unexpected ally in support of neoliberal economic principles, privatization of inefficient state enterprises, and a pro-EU stance. The 1997 military intervention and its consequences for conservative business groups, such as MГњSД°AD, illuminate why they endorsed the JDP. The pious businesspeople, who had increased their power following the economic liberalization of the 1980s and 1990s, supported a unique blend of capitalism, modernity, and Islam, which matched the policies advocated by the JDP. Seeing that the anticapitalist version of religious politics was too costly for their economic and political interests, they backed the moderate JDP—with direct financing of its activities in some cases and by joining its ranks as parliamentarians in others.59 Some of the pious pro-JDP businesspeople were also supportive of the religious movement that was led by Fethullah GГјlen, a cleric and opinion leader residing in the United States. GГјlen first began to gather admirers to his modern approach to religious devotion in the late 1970s. In the following decades, the movement increased its preeminence through mainly educational activities in Turkey and abroad. The schools preparing students for university entrance exams in Turkey became the critical institutions where GГјlenists recruited new members and financed their operations in other sectors. With the liberalization of the economy in the 1980s, some GГјlen affiliates rose to elite ranks in business, most notably in the media.60 After the JDP came to power, movement members also began to fill senior ranks in the bureaucracy. In the high courts and among the prosecutors, the dominance of the secularist Kemalist elite was gradually broken. Although there was no direct link between the party and the community, the two Page 149 →forces collaborated in the early 2000s through mutual goals. While the former provided access to the state for the previously marginalized movement, the latter buttressed the party through its media and business network. Businesspeople associated with the movement founded the Turkish Confederation of Businesspeople and Industrialists (TUSKON) in 2005 and frequently participated in the foreign visits of the government officials, expanding their export activities.61 Page 148 → Table 6.3. Turkish Election Results between 2002 and 2015 Justice and Development Republican People’s Nationalist Action Party (NAP) Independentsa / People’s Democratic Party Otherb Party Party (RPP) (JDP) Year No. Votes of Votes % No. of Seats Votes % No. of Seats Votes % No. of Seats Votes % No. of Seats % Seats 2002 34.28 363 19.39 178 8.36 1.00 9 36.97 — 0c 2007 46.58 341 20.88 112 14.27 71 5.24 26 13.03 — 2011 49.83 327 25.98 135 13.01 53 6.57 35 4.61 — June 2015 40.87 258 24.95 132 16.29 80 13.12 80 4.78 — November 49.50 317 25.32 134 11.90 40 10.76 59 2.52 — 2015

  Source: Results for the 2002–11 elections were compiled from the website of the Turkish Statistical Institute (http://www.tuik.gov.tr/UstMenu.do? metod=temelist). Results for both of the 2015 elections were compiled from the website of the Turkish Supreme Election Board (http://www.ysk.gov.tr).   aIn 2007 and 2011, the Peace and Democracy Party, representing primarily the Kurdish constituency, participated in the elections by independent candidates in order to beat the 10 percent threshold. This party backed 22 independents in 2007 and the entire list of independents in 2011. In 2014, the Peace and Democracy Party merged with the People’s Democratic Party, which was founded in 2012 and the latter ran in the 2015 elections as a party, both times surpassing the 10 percent threshold. Independents did not receive any seats in these elections, and their total percentage results are included in the “Other” category for the June and November 2015 elections.   bConsists of the Motherland, True Path, Democratic Left, and Felicity Parties and others. In 2007, the TPP changed its name to the Democratic Party, and two years later, the MP joined the new organization.   cBelow the 10% threshold. The majority of the business community—whether conservative, secular, and/or liberal—had truly suffered from the economic crisis and, just like the majority of the electorate, was looking for a political force that could generate growth and stability. Indeed, in its first term in office, the JDP did not disappoint on the economic front, following the previous government’s plan with the IMF. From 2002 to 2007, the economy grew an average of around 7 percent yearly, per capita income nearly tripled, the poverty rate declined by 34 percent, inflation decreased to single digits, the budget deficit and public debt averaged around 5 and 46 percent of GDP respectively (both below EU criteria), the volume of exports tripled, and FDI increased from $617 million to $22,047 million.62 On the political front, the first five years of JDP rule were laden with reforms. From April 2002 to 2004, the government passed several “EU harmonization packages,” which introduced reforms to the laws on press, associations, political parties, meetings and demonstrations, criminal and civil procedures, counterterrorism, juvenile courts, and the penal code. With these changes, positive steps were taken in human rights and the rule of law. For instance, the death penalty was abolished, gender equality was improved, broadcasting and education in Kurdish became possible, the state of emergency in the eastern provinces (in effect since 1978 due to PKK activities) came to an end, progress was made in protecting citizens from torture and imprisonment due to political crimes, freedoms of conscience and speech were expanded, and acquisition of property for non-Muslim community foundations was eased.63 The most significant group of the reforms was in the area of civil-military relations. With successive changes in the constitution and the relevant laws, the JDP government curbed the autonomy of the military in internal security, defense expenditures, and judiciary.64 Why did the military agree to these reforms that restricted its powers? Similar to the Greek democratization in civil-military relations, the amendments in Turkey were stomached due to calculations in the costs of toleration and suppression. Tolerating the costs of reforms was possible primarily because the JDP appeared as a nonthreatening party in its first years in power. Compared with the WP experience, for instance, the JDP was avowedly Page 150 →democratic, non-Islamist, and explicitly pro-secular. It did not carry out any policies that appeared to change the socioeconomic or political order. Given that the JDP’s voter base came mostly from the center-right, previous elite groups—whether economic, military, or political—believed that they could sustain their status as elites. With the EU harmonization packages, the government appeared to provide a liberal environment where old political parties and even minority representatives could participate in politics freely and fairly. For the majority of military officers, the reform process appeared to be controllable, as the reforms did not eradicate the autonomy of the military in all areas. Moreover, democratization of the former Islamists meant that the previous threat of religious politics could now decrease in importance and thus eliminate one of the factors that had led to past interventions. The costs for the military to suppress the JDP and put an end to its reform agenda were also too high. First, the JDP had come to power with the highest share of the

votes since 1987 and, with its economic policies and reform agenda, earned the continued endorsement of the electorate. In the March 2004 local elections, the party had increased its vote share to 42 percent across the country, signifying the approval of the party’s policies. Second, the same reasons that increased the popularity of the party also generated consent among the economic elite. Thus, any type of intervention from the military would face the resistance of all quarters of society, increasing the costs of suppression. Finally, the military was split in its strategy to deal with the JDP. As in the Greek experience of democratization, not all military officers perceived low levels of threat. Hard-liner officers did not shy away from making public statements against the legal amendments and the JDP. Yet they were not supported by Chief of the General Staff Hilmi Özkök and the silent majority of generals, who preferred to stay in the barracks. Without a hierarchically unified military, the hard-liners did not have the power to resist the reforms until at least 2007.65 In sum, during the first five years of JDP rule, Turkey seemed to be making a turn toward democratic consolidation. Both the governing party and the opposition elites—including, most notably, the military—appeared to have accepted democracy as the only legitimate regime. It looked like years of distrust among the elite was finally unraveling and being replaced by a democratic consensus. This impression of consensual unity started the political amendments in the legal sphere, which also signified a substantial move toward fulfilling the procedural conditions of democracy. But optimistic calculations of Turkish democratization came to an abrupt end in 2007, when things began going sour.

Page 151 →Post-2007 Turkish Politics: A New Regime in the Making The crisis in Turkish politics started with questions arising from the selection of the president in 2007 by the parliament. Given its control over the majority of seats in the national assembly, the JDP nominated Abdullah GГјl to replace the incumbent Ahmet Necdet Sezer, whose term in office was coming to an end. Amid fierce opposition from the RPP and street protests attended by hundreds of thousands of secularists, the general staff of the military made a declaration on its website on 21 April 2007, implicitly threatening to intervene. The prospect of JDP leaders with Islamic backgrounds controlling both the presidency and government was evidently still a threat for some Kemalists and hard-liner officers. However, empowered by secular street rallies that protested now against both the JDP and the military, the government refused to submit to the demands of the declaration and decided to hold early elections. Campaigning on a platform that stressed further democratization, the party increased its vote share to 47 percent and, shortly after renewing its mandate, selected GГјl for the presidency. To avoid a future impasse, the new parliament changed the articles of the constitution relating to the election of the president. Ratified by 69 percent in a referendum, the presidents after GГјl would now be decided by the voters, not by the parliament. The failure of the general staff’s website declaration demonstrated once again that the costs of suppression for the military had risen to levels that made a postmodern coup similar to the February 1997 intervention impossible. A year later, however, the JDP faced another challenge from secularist foes. In March 2008, the Constitutional Court began to consider the case for closing down the JDP because the party became allegedly a center of activities against secularism. In July, the court decided against shutting down the party and chose only to reduce the amount of financial assistance the party received from the national treasury. Although the JDP weathered the storm, the implications of the court case, as well as the website declaration of the military, were clear: there were still elite groups that could contemplate staging coups against the democratically elected party. Such attitudes of the opposition resulted in the JDP leaders feeling that their existence as a political party was in danger.66

The JDP Eliminating Rivals Following the events in 2007 and 2008, the JDP abandoned its liberal democratic agenda and instead turned toward annihilating groups outside of its Page 152

→direct influence. In 2011, the party won 50 percent of the votes, but despite its dominance in the system, it continued to perceive opposition as a serious threat that must be forcefully repressed.67 The first group that came under attack was the military. GГјlen supporters in the judiciary and the police started investigations against retired and active military officers for planning coups against the JDP government. By March 2012, 15 different cases had been brought against more than 300 officers, academics, and journalists. These cases were then unified under one suit, publicly known as Ergenekon, after the alleged name of the terrorist organization in which the suspects were accused of being members. In December 2010, a lawsuit was filed against around 200 officers for planning a coup plot called Balyoz. By July 2012, more than 400 active military officers were being charged in both cases. Among those who were arrested were former commanders, a deputy chief of staff, and the chief of staff between 2008 and 2010, Д°lker BaЕџbuДџ. Although the courts of first instance convicted most of the accused in both trials, the Balyoz decision was reversed by the Constitutional Court in July 2014. The case was seen again, and in April 2015, all suspects were acquitted. In March 2014, the Constitutional Court also released all Ergenekon suspects from prison. At the time of this writing, the appeals process for the Ergenekon case was still under way. There is a good chance that the verdict of the court of first instance might be overturned in this case as well. Indeed, the court cases have been highly controversial. Critics pointed out that evidence against the accused was not clear, that due process was not followed during the investigation stage and the trial period, and that, in many cases, suspects were held under poor conditions detrimental to their health. The manner in which the officers and their civilian counterparts were tried gave rise to concerns that the real purpose was to eliminate the opposition to the JDP rather than to punish actual coup plotters. Evidence indicates that rather than leading to democratic consolidation, the trials led to further polarization among elites and voters.68 Notwithstanding the damage that this polarization inflicted on Turkish democratization, these unprecedented trials further eradicated whatever powers the military and other Kemalist political elites continued to hold. Not only were possible hard-liners in the armed forces purged, but the government found the opportunity to carry out reforms now without the explicit EU rationale. For instance, in 2009, the EMASYA protocol was abolished. In 2010 and 2011, the cabinet determined senior-level personnel promotions, leading to the loss of an important prerogative that the military had enjoyed in the past. Finally, in the 2010 referendum that introduced severalPage 153 → constitutional changes, the jurisdiction of military courts was curtailed, restricting their authority only to trying armed forces personnel against military discipline. In the same referendum, the procedures determining membership to the High Council of Judges and Public Prosecutors, which decides on the careers of members of the judiciary, were changed to make the council more pluralistic. This paved the way for the government to control promotions in the judiciary and for the Kemalists to lose their control over other judges and prosecutors, eliminating the power of another group of elites vis-Г -vis the JDP.69 The third group that gradually came under attack was the Kurdish movement. This was surprising, since the JDP increased its vote share in the 2011 elections partially due to the endorsement of Kurdish voters.70 The party appealed to this minority by promising it more political rights and by initiating, in 2009, what was dubbed the “Kurdish opening.” In most cities of eastern Turkey, the JDP received the plurality of the votes, and following the elections, the government began what it called “the peace process,” which included direct negotiations with imprisoned Г–calan.71 In March 2013, on Г–calan’s initiative, the PKK called a cease-fire, which gave hopes that a deal finally was going to be reached between the two sides. But disagreement on exactly what the “peace process” meant soon rose between the Kurdish nationalist movement and the government. Relations got further complicated with the Syrian war and as the Kurds of Syria gained autonomy near the Turkish border. There have been repeated accusations that the Turkish government was collaborating with Islamist groups in Syria to weaken the Kurds in the region.72

The fourth group the JDP fell out with was the secular and liberal business elites, who have begun questioning the party’s path following the slackening of the EU pledge. After the Gezi protests in the summer of 2013 (see below), the liberals accused Prime Minister ErdoДџan of becoming authoritarian.73 In return, ErdoДџan blamed the protests on the “interest lobby,” that is, businesspeople who were presumably profiting from crises. In January 2014, ErdoДџan, signifying the rupture between the JDP and the secular business groups, proclaimed the chair of TГњSД°AD a traitor.74 Similarly, in a TГњSД°AD meeting in September, he declared that some businesspeople economically benefited from the postmodern coup in 1997. In the same speech, he criticized a businesswoman for her remarks on polarization in Turkey.75 Finally, the JDP’s relations with its other elite partner, the GГјlen movement, have also shattered. The two forces were united initially in their mutual disdain of the military and secularist judiciary. However, as time went on, it was revealed that ErdoДџan and GГјlen were on opposite pages on severalPage 154 → issues.76 In the winter of 2013, the JDP attempted to close down preparatory schools in order to deplete the core base of the GГјlenists in these facilities. In response, possible GГјlen prosecutors began a corruption investigation on 17 December 2013. The probe resulted in the arrest of a construction tycoon, an Iranian-Azeri businessman, the sons of three government ministers, and the general manager of a state bank. Later, alleged tape recordings of ErdoДџan were leaked, implicating him and his family with corruption. These smearing campaigns were perceived as the efforts of the GГјlen movement to destroy the government, which had taken pride in its clean politics. Following the graft probe, the government fired and reassigned to remote districts thousands of policemen and hundreds of prosecutors who were behind the investigation. The JDP designed new laws and regulations that would bring the judiciary and police further under its control, to the detriment of democratic checks and balances.77 Since 2013, ErdoДџan has begun to refer to the GГјlenists as the “parallel structure,” in speeches that frequently divide society into populist categorizations of “us” versus “them.” While JDP voters are categorized as the “national will,” the remaining 50 percent are demonized as the Kemalist or GГјlenist establishment or supporters of terrorism (i.e., pro-Kurdish people) who would like to prevent the advancement of Turkey in collaboration with foreign powers.

The Shift toward Authoritarianism Although Turkey still conducts elections, freedom of speech is curtailed, and government critics are increasingly silenced. In 2013, Turkey had the highest number of imprisoned journalists in the world, and according to the Press Freedom Index of Reporters without Borders, Turkey ranked 154th among 179 states.78 Although Freedom House classifies Turkey in the “partly free” category, its 2013 score for civil liberties—which consisted of freedom of expression and belief, associational and organizational rights, and rule of law—was downgraded from 3 to 4 (7 being the worst possible mark).79 By 2015, violence exercised by the government and opposition forces, as well as acts of terror, had become a daily affair. The elections conducted in November 2015 took place in a highly violent environment, restricting the opportunities for the opposition parties to run their campaigns. This turn to authoritarianism is partially due to the unexpected protests of 2013. The Turkish lower classes, compared especially with their Greek counterparts, had historically been more tranquil, seldom (if ever) taking matters to streets and carrying out sustained cycles of contention. The last period that had witnessed lowerclass mobilization in Turkey was the 1970s, but the number of protestors was comparatively low even then. The first instancePage 155 → of social mobilization against the JDP took place in spring 2007, during the Republican protests (mentioned above) to prevent the ascendency of a JDP candidate to the presidency. Although it was estimated that over one million people took part in some of the rallies taking place in five different cities, the protests were seen as “elitist” in their secularist demands. Because the protestors denounced both the JDP and the possibility of a future coup, they strengthened the hands of the JDP, which bypassed

the calls of the demonstrators by winning the 2007 elections. Yet, in the summer of 2013, lower-class inactivity came to an abrupt end for a few weeks, making it hard to sidestep the demands of the opposition by resorting to elections.80 The protests started in Istanbul on 31 May 2013, when thousands of people came together against the government’s plan to reconstruct the city center and build a shopping mall where the Gezi Park was located. Protestors set up camps in the park, refusing to leave despite police repression. Within a few days, almost every city saw movements in solidarity with the Gezi protestors.81 According to official numbers, a total of two and a half million people participated in demonstrations in around 80 cities, making these events a landmark since the 1980 coup. The protests were also unique in bringing together a diverse group of actors, including youth, students, women, LGBT people, workers, and ethnic groups affiliated or unaffiliated with civil society organizations or political parties. Demanding more democracy and resisting the JDP’s policies, the protestors represented a wide spectrum of liberals, environmentalists, Islamists, and secularists, collaborating and exchanging ideas in a hitherto unforeseen environment of pluralism and peacefulness.82 The Gezi protests came to an end two weeks later with police repression, killing at least 8 people and wounding 8,000.83 Although the demonstration did not turn into a social movement, its brief existence in a society that had not experienced such an event for decades changed the calculations of the JDP elite. What could be interpreted as behavior in an unconsolidated democracy before the summer of 2013 became authoritarian after the government faced the Gezi protestors. Since 2007, the party leadership had already perceived the opposition elite groups as a significant threat to its security and well-being. The 2007 protests were also critical in showing how the Kemalist elite could mobilize its supporters and how the military and judiciary could close down the party. To protect itself, the party had begun using undemocratic instruments. Yet the combination of elite attack and mass protests demanding a change in the political system (toward democracy) in 2013 is what provoked the increasing abandonment of democracy for authoritarianism. Certainly, the main opponent of the JDP continued to be elites. On the road to his successful presidential election campaign in the summer of 2014, ErdoДџan denounced the main opposition in the parliament, the Republican Page 156 →People’s Party, as the linchpin of Kemalism. According to ErdoДџan, the RPP established a restrictive, authoritarian, and secular regime in Turkey during the 1920s and 1930s and, if given the opportunity, would do the same today. The second enemy was the GГјlen movement, which used its influence within the state to function as a criminal organization to bring down the government. Costs of tolerating the GГјlenists was particularly high for the government, since the corruption investigation clearly showed that they could bring cases against, convict, and imprison government ministers. There is frequent speculation that ErdoДџan and his associates should be tried for high treason.84 The prospects of such a trial would be higher if the JDP loses elections and cannot form the government, which explains why the leaders of the party clench onto power. For the JDP elite, anyone who does not support the party becomes a threat to their security and well-being. Opposition elites with Kemalist, GГјlenist, and liberal orientations pose the greatest challenge, because they have the resources to counteract the government and, once it is toppled, to prosecute its leaders. Yet the lower classes, which seemed to be on the sidelines, showed their teeth in the Gezi protests and increased the costs of toleration to alarming levels. Thus, faced with threats all around, the tendency of JDP elites is to restrict the opposition by means of repression. As in the past, the military could act as a coalitional partner in cracking down on dissent, but for the JDP leaders, the police are, naturally, a more reliable tool. The police began acting as the armed wing of the JDP, especially after the forces were cleansed of GГјlen sympathizers following the graft inquiry. With the help of pro-government judges and prosecutors, the police lower the costs of suppression considerably for the JDP. The aggression of the government, however, leads to more polarization and a stronger belief among the opposition that the only way to reverse the trend is to oust the JDP from power. With whatever economic, media, and judicial powers they have, the Kemalist, GГјlenist, and Kurdish political forces—acting separately more often than not—pound on the corrupt and nondemocratic policies of the party.

The events following the June 2015 elections demonstrated the importance of electoral victories for the party. In the first elections conducted after ErdoДџan’s presidency, the JDP lost its majority in parliament under the leadership of Prime Minister Ahmet DavutoДџlu. This was largely due to the reorganization of the Kurdish politicians under the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), with an ideology appealing to non-Kurdish voters. The PDP passed the 10 percent threshold and received 80 seats, by advocating leftist libertarianism, more democracy, and social justice for all minority groups, LGBT people, and women. Since the political parties in parliament could not agree Page 157 →to form a coalition, snap elections were called. In the interim period, tension between the PKK and the Turkish state grew. In around two months’ time, close to 40 people in the Turkish security forces were killed, and the Turkish state carried out domestic and cross-border operations killing around 400 PKK militants and arresting more than 1,000 suspects. The renewal of conflict was interpreted by critics as an act on the part of the JDP government to increase its votes and form a single-party government by driving the PDP out of parliament in the next elections.85 Thus, the November 2015 elections were carried out in a violent environment. Although the conflict was mostly confined to eastern parts of Turkey, the capital city was not immune to bloodshed. On 10 October 2015, in one of the most brutal acts of terrorism in recent Turkish history, more than 100 people who had gathered in Ankara to join PDP members, civil society organizations, and trade unions in their calls for peace were killed by two suicide bombers. Asking for votes to bring stability to Turkey, the JDP managed to secure a parliamentary majority in the elections (see the results in table 6.3). In the aftermath of the elections, the PDP leaders declared that they did not campaign after the Ankara bombings and that they “tried to saveВ .В .В . people from massacres” in an “abnormal period.”86 Since 2013, Turkey has been experiencing an “abnormal period”—a period that does not resemble any of its past episodes. From the late 1980s onward, Turkey was governed by coalition governments, involved in corruption scandals and economic mismanagement. In 1995, the religious Welfare Party gained the plurality of votes and formed the government in coalition with a mainstream party. Against this threat, the military, in collaboration with the secular business groups and other mainstream politicians, successfully pushed the government out of power and eliminated the WP and the radical version of religious politics. This coalition of elite forces resembled the 1980 coup, and the indirect manner in which the coup was carried out (without overt force) was also witnessed in 1971. But the economic crisis of 2001 ushered in a new period in Turkey. Similar to Greece, the party system changed, however, in the opposite direction: it resulted not in fragmentation but in the creation of a one-party dominant system. Although the rule of the JDP has brought economic stability to Turkey so far, polarization and elite conflict continue, with sporadic acts of contentious politics. The inability of Turkish democracy to consolidate is “more of the same,” but the move toward an authoritarian regime without the backing of the military is relatively new.

Page 158 →

7. Applying the Theory to Contemporary Cases of Military Rule Thailand and Egypt Although military interventions seem like something from the distant past, 15 successful cases of putsches were reported between 2000 and 2014 worldwide. When 20 attempted interventions, 20 plots thwarted by government officials, and 13 allegations are added to this number, it is clear that, in many nations, especially in Africa and Asia, military interventions are not obsolete.1 In this chapter, I demonstrate that the theory detailed in chapter 2 and attained from the analysis of Greece and Turkey from the interwar period until the military lost its political power can also be used to illuminate these contemporary cases. Focusing on the military interventions in Thailand and Egypt, I show how the book’s theoretical framework of costs of toleration and suppression can be employed to explain regime outcomes occurring in seemingly unrelated geopolitical settings and eras.2 The coups in Thailand in 2006 and in Egypt in 2011 were carried out by the military to oust political elites. The main aim of these coups was to establish unconsolidated democracies with unthreatening elites, who would acquiesce in the military’s tutelary powers and reserve domains. In this goal, they resembled the interwar coups in Greece and the 1960, 1971, and 1997 interventions in Turkey. Yet, in both Egypt and Thailand, once elections returned, previous elites (Thailand) or newly empowered ones (Egypt) ascended, coupled with antimilitary protests organized in alliance with the elites or independent of them. As the countries slid into chaos, the militaries intervened again, this time both to remove the elites from power and to repress dissident lower-class movements. Although a full-blown authoritarian regime, similar to the 1936 and 1967 regimes in Greece, was established in Egypt, the outcome of the Thai coup is still uncertain. As of December 2015, the intervention resembled an authoritarian regime more than a short-lived coup. The Thai military leaders are promisingPage 159 → elections, but the draft constitution suggests the continuation of repression. The best-case scenario for Thailand is that the intervention would be similar to the 1980 hybrid putsch in Turkey, that is, a relatively short-lived coup, but much longer in duration and more authoritarian in outcome, even when civilians take over after a transition.

Thailand and the Intervention of 2006 The short-lived coup of 2006 was perhaps not a major surprise to observers, given the historical role the military has played in Thai politics. After Thailand became a constitutional monarchy in 1932, politics were challenged by several military interventions, intra-elite conflict, and uprisings, which were sometimes repressed with bloodshed. Until the early 1990s, Thailand witnessed both short-lived and authoritarian military interventions, as well as failed coup attempts, reaching a total of 17.3 The coup in 1991 and the military’s loss of prestige in the aftermath of the Black May repression of the 1992 uprising opened up a new era, projecting an optimistic outlook that the military had lost some of its political powers and would not intervene again.4 The 1997 constitution was the most democratic the country has ever seen, although the regime was unconsolidated, most notably because it gave the monarchy and King Bhumibol Adulyadej tutelary powers.5 Hopes that democracy might be stabilized in Thailand were dashed, however, in the early 2000s, with the election of Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra and his Thais Love Thais (TLT) party. When in power between 2001 and 2006, Thaksin intimidated old elite groups that were organized around the monarchy and consisted of political, economic, and military factions. First, the TLT government meddled with military promotions in order to guarantee the compliance of the armed forces. Thaksin, who had attended the military preparatory academy as a young student and served as a police officer, promoted his friends to the top ranks, hoping that this strategy would bring loyalty. One of the most critical reasons for the 2006 coup was the politicization of the promotions, which led to divisions among officers (for a summary of the reasons for the 2006 coup, see table 7.1).6 However, that was not the only challenge that the TLT government posed to military interests. Thaksin continued a trend, started in 1992, of reducing the military’s political influence. The most critical aspect of this loss of relative power was the 2 percent decrease in military spending in the overall

government budget.7 Moreover, the government used the military in its harsh responses to the renewed Malay Muslim insurgency in the Page 161 →southernmost provinces of Thailand, without giving the decision-making authority to the armed forces. Several officers were killed in the turbulent region, perpetuating the belief that the military was suffering from the mistakes of the government.8 Page 160 → Table 7.1. Summary Analysis of the 2006 Coup in Thailand Moderate Costs of Toleration in 2006 Elites Yes threatened? Perception of threat to the The TLT meddled with military promotions and reduced the political powers of the military military’s interests Perception of threat to the Populist policies of Thaksin challenged the political powers of the unelected royalists and political election prospects of the DP + The TLT tried to control the judiciary and high bureaucrats elites’ interests Perception of threat to the business Thaksin benefited his own business endeavors at the expense of rival big business and the CPB community’s interests Elites threatened by Yes each other? A significant portion of the electorate Yes—the TLT won majority of the votes expected to vote for threatening elites? Lower classes engaged in No—pro-monarchy, anti-TLT protests organized by PAD strengthened the hands of the threatening military and the royalists contentious action? Unconsolidated Democracy with Coups Outcome Procedural conditions were partially fulfilled + Lack of attitudinal support Moderate Costs of Suppression during the 2006 Intervention The military clique had more Yes power than the opposition? External threats lead to increased Disputes with Cambodia, Burma, and Malaysia + Military aid from the US as a “major resources for the non-NATO ally” military

Proper planning of the military intervention Power of the lower classes Alliance between the lower classes and opposition elites against the intervention The military clique had support from other elites? Support /collaboration of the political elites Support of the business community Unified military? Elites signaling their opposition at the beginning Military officers on the bandwagon at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits within the military Outcome

Yes Low

Yes—gradual mobilization of Thaksin supporters

No

Elites were split: the king and the royalists supported and legitimized the intervention and antiTLT political elite took part in the interim government, but the TLT elite opposed the intervention Anti-TLT business groups acquiesce No No

Yes

Yes—pro-Thaksin officers existed in the military Fragile Coup Officers captured the government but failed to permanently oust pro-Thaksin forces; the PPP won the 2007 elections

The second group that saw the TLT government as a danger to their well-being was the political elites, who believed that Thaksin’s populist policies and reliance on electoral majority challenged their powers in the Thai system. Among this group, the monarchy and the royalist groups associated with King Bhumibol were the most critical actors. The king rarely acted explicitly against one side, but the active involvement of Prem Tinsulanonda—the president of the Privy Council, a former general, and an ex-prime minister—indicated that the monarchy and groups associated with it were against the government. A few months before the coup, Prem gave several speeches to military cadets, criticized the prime minister, and reminded the cadets, in a manner that urged them to intervene, “that the soldiers belong to His Majesty the King, not to a government.”9 While Thaksin’s reliance on his political constituency challenged the unelected authority of the royalists, the sacred role of the king became a symbol around which all opposition groups could coalesce. Thaksin was repeatedly accused of disrespecting the monarchy, a crime according to Thai laws, and the king was called to interfere against the TLT.10

Similar to the military, other unelected institutions, particularly the judiciary and bureaucracy, witnessed the government’s attempts to reduce their role. The 1997 constitution had granted institutions such as the Constitutional Court, the National Election Commission (NEC), and the National Anti-Corruption Commission (NACC) important powers to check and balance against elected governments. The TLT attempted to restrict the powers of these institutions and co-opt their members.11 The NEC’s decision to carry out the controversial April 2006 elections was seen as a move that benefited the TLT. The Constitutional Court tried Thaksin for the NACC charge that he covered up his assets while in office in 1997, but it failed to convict him by one vote.12 Despite the incapacitation of these institutions and internal splits, it was eventually the Constitutional Court that canceled the elections of April 2006 and precipitated the coup. The king’s call to end the turbulence in the aftermath of the poll, which was boycotted by opposition parties, was the critical factor that led the Constitutional Court to react, proving that, despite the TLT’s attempts, the judiciary had been “a reliable ally of the royalist side.”13 The decision of the main opposition Democrat Party not to participate in the 2006 elections reflected the fact that it was impossible to defeat the Page 162 →TLT at the polls. Although the Democrat Party received majority votes in the south, the electoral mandate of the TLT came from the more populous north and northeast. The opposition politicians believed that the uneducated poor peasants of this region were being deceived by corrupt politicians, who distributed money to voters or misused national funds in exchange for electoral support.14 Thaksin had promised easy credit for rural communities and a three-year debt moratorium to the farmers, which the opposition argued increased indebtedness. Another of Thaksin’s populist schemes, cheap health care for everyone, had arguably decreased the quality of health care.15 Before the 2005 elections, Thaksin had added more populist promises to his list, such as allotting livestock, land titles, ponds, more credit and funds to farmers, and affordable education and housing. In what looked like an impossible task, the TLT campaign also talked about eliminating poverty altogether.16 Faced with such “deceit,” the only means possible for “sensible” Democrats and other opposition forces to defeat the TLT was through anti-democratic instruments that would disqualify the party from the race. The final group that was anxious about the TLT’s dominance consisted of businesspeople whose fortunes were adversely affected. Thaksin himself was a renowned businessman, and his telecommunications ventures made him one of the richest men in Thailand. Although he was pro-business, his manner of helping friends and superseding rivals turned some of the economic elites against his government.17 The Crown Property Bureau (CPB), which administers the properties and investments of the monarchy and is among the largest business establishments of Thailand,18 was in economic competition with Thaksin. The latter’s way of doing business challenged the CPB’s special status in society.19 For many years, Thaksin was known for using his political position to advance his economic fortunes, and vice versa.20 But the incident that caused the uproar and shed the clear light of illegitimacy on such practices was the Shinawatra family’s January 2006 sale of the biggest telecommunication company of Thailand, the Shin Corporation, to a Singaporean company, without paying the capital tax. After this incident, anti-Thaksin opposition grew and focused on the corruption charges. The most notable businessman opposing the government was certainly Sondhi Limthongkul, a media mogul who fell out with the prime minister.21 After his TV shows criticizing Thaksin were canceled,22 Sondhi became one of the leaders of the People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD), an anti-Thaksin opposition group consisting of sections of the urban middle classes, civil servants, labor unions, civil society groups, and intellectuals, among others.23 From February 2006 onward, PAD organized mass rallies and set up camps in Bangkok to sustain their movement against Thaksin. The anti-Thaksin Page 163 →movement drew hundreds of thousands of people wearing yellow shirts, to symbolize the birthday color of the king, and demanding that the monarch intervene against the TLT.24 Although Thaksin gathered the majority of the votes, he did not mobilize his constituency against the opposition and PAD until spring 2006. The TLT remained organizationally weak, and its main purpose was to galvanize people into voting for the party. Faced with elite opposition, Thaksin began considering converting his “electoral populism” into mass mobilization (and even threatened to do so), but the coup took place before his plans fully materialized.25 The signs of this tactical shift were evident on 3 March 2006, when Thaksin

organized a rally, attended by around 200,000 people, to kick off his electoral campaign. Similar rallies were held prior to the elections in other towns. What could be considered the first pro-Thaksin bottom-up mobilization took place at the same time, when northern and northeastern farmers traveled to Bangkok on their trucks to be joined by taxi drivers in their support of Thaksin. Tens of thousands of people peacefully set up camp at Chatuchak Park for a few weeks.26 This “Caravan of the Poor” group dispersed, however, with the holding of the April elections, indicating that its true purpose was to gather electoral support.27 The April elections caused a political crisis, which eventually resulted in the September 2006 coup. But, interestingly, no major pro-Thaksin protest or rally took place after the elections. Thus, without any significant mobilization on the streets, the conflict between 2001 and 2006 remained predominantly intra-elite. Although the lower classes brought the TLT to power, the perception of the opposition elites was that the poor were misled by Thaksin and his associates into voting for the party and that the naive peasants would vote for the “correct” parties once the TLT was closed and after Thaksin was deposed. But things did not go according to plan. Given elite conflict prior to the coup, elite splits continued during the intervention. The groups that encouraged the military to intervene gave their support afterward. The king sanctioned the rule of the generals; Prem had influence over key decisions; and another Privy Council member, General Surayud, became the prime minister. Business leaders, bureaucrats, and members of the judiciary agreed with the junta and took part in its legislative assembly.28 The backing of the royal house led many military officers to join the bandwagon on the day of the coup, and the consent of elites made taking over the government a success.29 However, the main opposition, led by Thaksin, had no intention of backing down when it was at the zenith of its power and had allies in the military and police forces. Shortly after the coup, Thaksin supporters mobilized, and Thaksin himself realized that simple obedience to the wishes of the junta did Page 164 →not guarantee his survival. When he briefly returned from exile in February 2008, he was convicted of corruption and received a three-year sentence, prompting him to leave Thailand “permanently,” though he continued to influence politics from abroad.30 The ability of Thaksin to empower his faction vis-Г -vis the military by socially mobilizing his supporters in the aftermath of the coup explains the failure of the military to suppress the threat although other elite groups supported the intervention. As the theory advanced in this book would predict, the 2006 intervention was a fragile coup. In accordance with its intentions, the junta held elections 15 months after it took power, in December 2007. As in every typical shortlived coup, a new constitution was written, increasing the military budget and the tutelary powers of the armed forces and the judiciary.31 The TLT and its top leaders were banned, but the coup could not entirely wipe them out. Thaksin’s constituency took matters to the streets, the TLT soon reorganized under a new banner, the Shinawatra family continued its political ambitions, and the heirs of the TLT persisted in winning the elections.32 In retrospect, the only thing the 2006 coup achieved was to polarize and destabilize Thai politics even further and to open the door to the 2014 intervention.

Thailand and the Intervention of 2014 The conditions that precipitated the military intervention in 2014 (see table 7.2) were quite different than the ones in 2006. The main subject of the conflict remained the same: polarization between pro-Thaksin and anti-Thaksin groups divided politics. However, intra-elite conflict was now accompanied by lower-class mobilization on the streets. Frequent protests and demonstrations from both sides of the conflict disrupted daily life, often turning violent. Shortly after the 2006 coup, supporters of Thaksin established the United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD) and wore red shirts, to symbolize their opposition to anti-Thaksin groups. The UDD represented mostly poor peasants from the northern and northeastern provinces but also included students and leftists in Bangkok and other provinces.33 With every change of government and at any critical political moment, either the red shirts or the yellow shirts (or both groups at the same time) were actively mobilized, clashing with security forces and with each other.

PAD, which had dissolved itself after the coup, renewed its activities in 2008, when it became clear that the TLT elite had not been weakened. The TLT reorganized itself as the People’s Power Party (PPP) and won nearly 40 percent of the votes in the December 2007 elections. To drive the PPP-led Page 166 →coalition government out of power, PAD began protests in March 2008 and increased its activities further in May, with the participation of around 30,000 people. In the summer of 2008, PAD activities intensified, eventually leading to the occupation of the Government House, several airports, and parliament. Violent clashes with the police and with government supporters occurred, killing and wounding several protestors. In the meantime, the Constitutional Court ruled that the PPP’s Samak Sundaravej was not eligible to serve as prime minister because he received money to attend a TV show. Replacing Samak with Thaksin’s brother-in-law, Somchai Wongsawat, did not put the issue at rest. The protests of the yellow shirts continued until December 2008, when the Constitutional Court closed down the PPP due to electoral fraud committed by a party executive.34 Page 165 → Table 7.2. Summary Analysis of the 2014 Military Intervention in Thailand High Costs of Toleration in 2014 The political, military, and business elites threatened? The political, military, and business elites threatened by each other? A significant portion of the electorate expected to vote for threatening elites? Lower classes engaged in threatening contentious action? Outcome

Yes

Yes—the PPP/FTP versus the royalists, the DP, and the judiciary

Yes—the PPP and the FTP won the elections

Yes—demonstrations by red shirts (UDD); street violence between red and yellow shirts (PDRC); clashes with military and police forces Authoritarianism Moderate Costs of Suppression after 2014

Military has more power than Yes the opposition? Threat of external wars led to increased Increased conflict with neighbors after the 2006 coup resourcesfor the military Power of the Mobilization before the intervention, but no major resources in the hands of the lower classes lower classes when compared with the military

Alliance between the lower classes Thaksin and his family/colleagues continue to lead their lower-class supporters; so far, no and opposition social mobilization elites Transition from the last military High political prerogatives following the 2006 coup intervention Military had support from No other elites? Support Cautious attitudes of the king and the royalists + Possible split in the royal family + Criticism /collaboration of from the DP + No support from pro-Thaksin elites the political elites Unified military? No Elites signaling their opposition No (but the delay in the king’s approval suggests lukewarm support) at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits Yes—lower-ranking officers resent the higher ranks within the military Unconsolidated Outcome in Significant political elites have pro-democratic preferences + Possible rebellions against the authoritarianism power holders may occur in the future The turn of street mobilization then passed on to the UDD. After the dissolution of the PPP, a new coalition government was formed, under the premiership of Democrat Party leader Abhisit Vejjajiva. Thaksin supporters believed that the coalition was formed with the initiative of the military and the Privy Council. The red shirts started a cycle of protest for the resignation of Abhisit and for the termination of what they considered an illegitimate government.35 From abroad, Thaksin encouraged his supporters and explicitly asked them to start a revolution.36 The first significant event occurred in April 2009, when the protestors stormed the ASEAN Summit in Pattaya, resulting in the postponement of the conference and the evacuation of foreign leaders. Thousands of protestors also seized several locations in Bangkok, including the Government House and the residence of Privy Council president Prem. After a few weeks, military troops disbanded the protestors, killing at least 2 and injuring more than 100. Around one year later, in March 2010, protests against the Abhisit government escalated again. This time, the red shirts attacked the parliament, causing government representatives to flee, and also seized the financial and shopping district of Bangkok. After more than two months, the military cracked down on the protests. In the resulting clashes, at least 90 people died, and around 2,000 were injured.37 One of the key demands of the UDD was to renew the elections, which finally took place in July 2011. As Thaksin supporters expected, the elections were won by the heir of the PPP, the For Thais Party (FTP), led by Thaksin’s sister Yingluck Shinawatra. The FTP continued the populist practices of her brother and promised to buy rice from peasants at higher than market prices and to increase the minimum wage, which drew criticism from business circles.38 In power, the Yingluck government attempted to grant amnesty to everyone who had been convicted of political crimes since 2004. This was interpreted by the opposition as a move to bring back Thaksin.39 The half-appointed,Page 167 → half-elected senate rejected the bill in November 2013. Two months prior to the bill’s rebuff, the Yingluck government had wanted to change the 2007 constitution and make the senate a completely elected body, as was the case before the 2006 coup. This amendment was also thwarted by the Constitutional Court.40 Suspecting the intentions of the cabinet and arguing that the government was nondemocratic, PAD, now

reorganized with other groups under the People’s Democratic Reform Committee (PDRC), renewed its protests from autumn 2013 onward. Under the leadership of a former Democrat Party politician, Suthep Thaugsuban, the yellow shirts demonstrated in Bangkok for several months, took over government buildings, and demanded the creation of an unelected People’s Council to initiate reform and dismantle what they believed to be the “Thaksin regime.”41 Under pressure from opposition groups and sustained demonstrations, Yingluck dissolved parliament and declared new elections for February 2014. However, in a repetition of events prior to the 2006 coup, the opposition boycotted the elections, and there were reports that the yellow shirts pressured people not to vote. The parliament could not convene, and in March, the Constitutional Court invalidated the elections. Meanwhile, protests and violence continued, claiming 25 lives in Bangkok in the six months prior to the 2014 intervention.42 In early May, the Constitutional Court removed Yingluck from office, and on 20 May, the Thai military declared martial law. Two days later, the Thai armed forces under the leadership of General Prayuth took full control of the government. The 2014 intervention had the double purpose of repressing the pro-Thaksin political elite and ending social mobilization. This time, considering the aftermath of the fragile 2006 coup, “Prayuth was determined thatВ .В .В . the Shinawatras would not be able to return to power afterwards, and that Thailand’s long spell of contentious politics and street protestsВ .В .В . would be permanently ended.” To carry out this task, the junta has attempted to “depoliticize” Thai society,43 which cannot be achieved by a short-lived coup. Indeed, every indicator as of December 2015 pointed to the creation of an authoritarian regime. The military leaders declared their intention to hold elections, but no clear timeline was given. The date of the elections was repeatedly postponed, and the earliest date suggested was July 2017.44 Postponing elections until that date would make the duration of military rule more than three years, a period much longer than a typical short-lived coup. Although most analysts do not yet call the intervention an authoritarian regime, the difference between the previous two coups and the 2014 putsch was noted by a few observers.45 While the 1991 and 2006 coups were milder in their repression, the 2014 intervention was notably more suppressive. Page 168 →Aside from hundreds of arrests from all sides, any political gathering of more than five people was banned. Similarly, whereas military rulers in the past cases speedily assigned cabinets and assemblies led by reputable individuals and civilians,46 the 2014 junta delayed the formation of a legislature and executive for several months. When the National Council of Peace and Order (NCPO), as the junta calls itself, finally set up a cabinet and legislature, it consisted mostly of military officers. Prayuth himself became the prime minister, and the interim constitution, which was announced in July 2014, gave the NCPO “supreme authority.”47 Thailand is currently ruled by an authoritarian regime, even though the military rulers claim that their rule is an “interlude.” What comes next would define the interlude, and it is clear so far that the transition from direct military rule will not bring democracy. In March 2015, the Constitution Drafting Committee drew up a new charter under the guidance of the NCPO. The new constitution allowed unelected officials to take over the administration of the country when there was a crisis. It envisioned the creation of a Senate consisting of a majority of appointed members and the establishment of “non-elected reform councils and other bodies appointed by the NCPO.”48 The National Moral Assembly, National Reform Assembly, and National Reform Strategy Committee were among such institutions that would draft legislature to be approved by the parliament.49 The constitution made references to the politicians with “good morals” as the only ones who would govern the country,50 and the veto institutions were given the power to determine who could run for office and were to base their decisions on those vaguely formulated ethical standards. Although the National Reform Council (NRC) rejected the charter and thereby shelved it permanently, the draft constitution shows that the true intentions of the junta are authoritarian.51 Despite the repressive measures of the NCPO, the regime is not consolidated—at least not at the time of this writing, in December 2015. The king and the Privy Council that had backed the 2006 coup are more cautious this time around. King Bhumibol approved the junta four days after taking power, but the royal family has not appeared together with the generals. The health condition of the current king complicates matters even more, with rumors circulating that the crown prince who might replace Bhumibol is close to Thaksin. The Democrat Party and PDRC elites took their seats in the National Legislative Assembly and NRC, but realizing that the regime is

becoming more authoritarian than they expected, some of them turned against the junta’s heavy-handed approach. This split between the NCPO and the anti-Thaksin elite became clear when the Democrat Party leadership rejected the junta’s draft constitution.52 Page 169 →Perhaps unexpectedly, as the anti-Thaksin elite is becoming more vocal against Prayuth’s rule, pro-Thaksin groups are becoming more tranquil. Thaksin called on his supporters “not to resort to violence” and “to be patient.”53 This attitude limited the number of protests to only a few at the beginning of the NCPO rule and helped maintain relative concord. However, there is evidence of elite splits not only between the NCPO and what was supposed to be its natural allies (the anti-Thaksin groups) but also among different cliques in the military.54 Middle- and lower-ranking officers are suspected of being Thaksin supporters partly because of the rise to power of royalist factions shortly before the 2006 coup.55 As Chamber notes, “This dynamic will make it impossible for the military to return real power to an elected government in the foreseeable future.”56 Under such conditions of unconsolidated rule, Thailand is also ripe for protests organized by either yellow or red shirts, which might possibly overthrow the regime altogether. At the time of this writing, it was still unclear if the new constitution would be completed soon or if it would have more democratic provisions. The unconsolidated nature of the regime would make a settlement on the new charter more difficult, prolonging the “interlude.” Even if the junta finally decides to hold elections seemingly ending the intervention, it is clear that these elections would not be democratic. Unless overthrown by force, the NCPO will remain in power for more than three years and will eventually try to establish what many Thai activists, including the PDRC, advocated as “Thai-style democracy.”57 Arguing that Western liberal democracy is not suitable for Thailand, the junta would not place the real authority in the hands of elected officials but would give the final say to technocratic and oligarchic groups. Restrictive elections are likely to accompany such powers of the bureaucracy, the military, and the royalists, making the new regime hardly democratic.

Egypt between 2011 and 2013 Although events in Egypt that started with the 2011 uprising seem different than what has happened in Thailand, the creation of an authoritarian regime by a putsch makes these recent cases of military intervention similar. Unlike Thailand, which had an unconsolidated democracy before the military intervened, Egypt had been ruled by an authoritarian regime since the 1950s. On 25 January 2011, millions of Egyptians started an uprising against this seemingly durable regime. Eighteen days after the start of the protests, Hosni Mubarak resigned from his office, and his reign of 30 years came to an end. Page 170 →The decision of the Egyptian military not to support Mubarak precipitated his resignation and started a process that many observers at the time mistakenly thought would lead to the creation of a democratic regime. Events that followed, however, culminated in the military intervention of 3 July 2013, headed by Commander in Chief Abdel Fattah el-Sisi against democratically elected President Mohamed Morsi. Sisi’s intervention marked a return to authoritarianism in Egypt after a brief opportunity of possible democratization. How can the theory of this book be utilized to interpret the events between 2011 and 2013? First, it must be clarified that the 2011 decision of the military to stand down in the face of the uprising was an intervention against Mubarak. The 2011 coup toppled an authoritarian regime, not a democratic one, and was started by protestors, not by the military itself. Thus, it does not readily fall under the category of a military intervention.58 However, if the definition of a coup also includes the overthrowing of rulers who are in power, Mubarak’s forced resignation must be interpreted as an intervention. For a year and a half after Mubarak’s resignation, the military-as-institution ruled Egypt, giving credence to the interpretation of 2011 as a coup. The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), consisting of 24 top-ranking military generals and headed by Minister of Defense Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi, took over the government and ruled until the presidential elections of May and June 2012. Moreover, the 2013 intervention against Morsi cannot be divorced from the events that took place in the winter of 2011 (this is why table 7.3 summarizes the 2011 and 2013 interventions together). The decision of the military not to open fire against the protestors paved the way for the first free parliamentary and presidential elections after six decades of authoritarian rule, elections then reversed

by the military and its political allies. Thus, any analyses of the 2013 intervention must first begin with the coup of 2011.

The 2011 Coup The critical days between the beginning of the uprising on 25 January and 11 February, when Mubarak announced his decision to resign, were triggered by the unconsolidated nature of the outgoing authoritarian regime. Although Mubarak’s hold on power looked unshakable, conflicts between the president and the military simmered below the surface, along with lower-class activism. Protesting economic inequality, unemployment, and rampant poverty under the neoliberal policies of the regime, workers had already begun demonstrations and strikes in the late 1990s. Despite the regime’s heavy Page 171 →restrictions against such activities, it was estimated that around 4,000 different collective actions were taken by more than 3 million workers between 1999 and 2011.59 Alongside this activism of the workers, an increasingly vibrant civil society had surfaced. In 2004, a variety of groups against the regime formed the movement known as Kefaya and carried out protests. In 2008, another organization, called the 6 April Youth Movement, came together online and supported striking workers. The National Association for Change, under the leadership of Mohamed al-Baradei and in cooperation with the Muslim Brotherhood, started a petition drive and collected thousands of signatures demanding free elections. On 25 June 2010, a group named after Khaled Said, who was brutally murdered by the regime’s police while in custody, organized a demonstration attended by 4,000 people.60 This latter group called the opponents of the regime to gather on 25 January. Thousands poured in, later united with already-active workers and youth movement groups, reaching millions in Cairo’s Tahrir Square and elsewhere, pressuring Mubarak to resign. When the regime’s police and notorious Central Security Forces (CSF) failed to repress the protestors, Mubarak deployed the armed forces as the backbone of the regime, on 28 February. Three days later, the military declared that it would not fire on the protestors and urged them to go home. But, encouraged by the military’s restraint and unsatisfied with Mubarak’s concessions, the protestors continued their revolt. On 10 February, SCAF, a standing body that met irregularly, convened without the president.61 The next day, Mubarak resigned, possibly because of the overt demand to do so by the military.62 Even if there was no explicit pressure by the military, the decision of the armed forces not to fire on the protestors marked the end of Mubarak’s reign. Three factors were critical in determining the decision of the armed forces not to side with Mubarak (see table 7.3).63 First, the military hierarchy was already in conflict with the president and his policies. This rift was instigated by the question of who would succeed Mubarak. The president had raised his son, Gamal, to replace him, although all presidents of the regime since the 1952 Free Officers intervention had come from the ranks of the military. Gamal had no prior connections with the military and did not even serve as a conscript. While this background of the future president raised concerns over the fate of the military in the regime, Gamal relied heavily on his business cronies to legitimize his place in the ruling coalition. Starting with the presidency of Anwar Sadat, the regime had opened its borders to global markets. However, the process of privatization and concentration of capital in the hands of a few accelerated after 2004, when Mubarak’s new cabinet adopted neoliberalism more fervently. Those businesspeople with networks of connections with the ruling family filled their coffers and became the new political leaders of the country.64 At the same time, Mubarak began to rely more on the police, the CSF, and intelligence services to repress and control the population. The Ministry of Interior’s number of security personnel became triple that of the military’s, and its budget increased while the military’s relatively shrank.65 All of these developments led the military to feel concerned about its loss of power within the regime. Page 172 → Table 7.3. Summary Analysis of the Military Interventions of 2011 and 2013 in Egypt Costs of Toleration between 2011 and 2013 В Moderate in 2011 High in 2013

Elites threatened? Perception of threat to the political elites’ interests Perception of threat to the military’s interests

Yes

Yes

Mubarak and power holders Secular and liberal elites threatened by the MB-SCAF coalition + were threatened by the The MB threatened by popular unrest against it + The judiciary uprising threatened by the MB Mubarak and his cronies threatened military’s economic and political Protests against the military + The MB’s failure to reconcile power + Unless controlled, with the opposition and to stabilize politics the uprising could also threaten military’s interests

Perception of Protests threaten threat to the Mubarak’s cronies + The MB tried to create its own supportive business community + business Pro-Mubarak versus anti- Economic problems community’s Mubarak business interests interests Yes—military versus Elites Mubarak and his allies; Yes—seculars/liberals versus the MB/Islamists versus the threatened by splits in the business military each other? community A significant portion of the Unclear—since free electorate elections had not been held Yes—the MB won the elections expected to vote for decades for threatening elites? Lower classes No (from the perception of engaged in the Yes—demonstrations against the military and clashes on the threatening military)—demonstrations streets contentious are not against the military action? Coup against Mubarak Outcome leading to an Authoritarianism unconsolidated democracy Moderate Costs of Suppression since 2011 Military had more power than the opposition? Threat of external wars led to increased resources for the military Power of the lower classes

Yes

As a key ally in the Middle East, the US provides military aid and assistance + Wars with Israel until 1978 increase the military’s dominance + Potential conflict in the region justifies continued resources High—the lower classes are mobilized and hard to repress, despite the heavy-handed policies of the military

Page 173 →Alliance between the lower classes and opposition elites

No—there were no significant pro-Mubarak demonstrations after 2011, and the MB could not mobilize its supporters after 2013

Transition from The military had been the backbone of the outgoing authoritarian regime (despite having lost the last regime some of its power in the last decades) Military had support from Yes at the beginning of the interventions; No in later stages other elites? Liberal and secular elites at first supported the military Support but later turned against it; Liberal and secular elites (e.g., the National Salvation Front) /collaboration of the Muslim Brotherhood supported the military at the beginning but withdrew later; no the political and the military uneasily significant opposition from the other elites for now elites collaborated in 2011 but split in later stages Support of the Yes—those businesspeople who could disassociate from the Mubarak regime has business collaborated with the military community Unified Yes (for now) military? Elites signaled their opposition No at the beginning Other military officers on the Yes bandwagon at the beginning Soft-liner versus hard-liner splits No visible splits, but possible dissent in the lower ranks against the upper ranks and conflict within the between the military-as-government and the military-as-institution military Fragile coup SCAF started the transition Authoritarianism to an unconsolidated So far looks consolidated, but given elite opposition and potential Outcome democracy but could not military splits, it can become unconsolidated and lead to anticontrol elite conflict and military protests lower-class activism, slide to authoritarianism The military was also worried about its economic endeavors. Through the National Service Projects Organization, the Ministry of Military Production,Page 174 → and the Arab Organization for Industrial Development, the armed forces have been engaged in the industrial production of critical goods (e.g., armaments, food, bottled water, home appliances, automobiles, cement, and gasoline), as well as activities in the commercial, construction, farming, and tourism sectors. As the owner of significant amounts of public land, the armed forces have controlled economic activity and overseen profitable projects of land reclamation, carried out by both the private and state sectors. With the liberalization of the economy, the business activities of the military have expanded, in exchange for the demilitarization of day-to-day politics following the Israeli defeat in 1967 and in return for the need to maintain lower defense budgets.66 The earnings of the military from its businesses are not taxed and are closed to public

scrutiny, allowing the armed forces to pocket large sums. While there are no clear estimates of the military’s profits, it is evident that the institution is the biggest economic actor, in charge of possibly 40 percent of GDP. Although the neoliberalism of the Mubarak era did not touch the economic interests of the military, the probability that the military might lose some of its privileges under Gamal and his network of big business created enough anxiety for the generals to reconsider their relationship with Mubarak when the protests began.67 Finally, the military was a relatively legitimate institution in the eyes of the protestors when the uprisings took off. Since the security institutions under the Ministry of Interior were responsible for brutal acts of suppression, the image of the military was untarnished.68 When military personnel were deployed, the protestors fraternized with the soldiers, shouting the slogan “The army and the people are one hand.”69 Given that the Egyptian military is a conscript army, the military hierarchy possibly worried about giving orders to shoot protestors with whom regular soldiers shared common backgrounds and similar grievances. Such an order could have possibly split the military, endangering both the legitimacy of the armed forces and its unity.70 Since the uprising was clearly not against the military and since the generals already had misgivings about Mubarak and his policies, standing down during the protests was the optimal decision.71 All indicators show that the intention of SCAF was to stage a short-lived coup that would protect the military’s corporate interests, its long-running political autonomy, and its economic activities, as would the results of a typical coup following elite conflict. Given that the threat was Mubarak and not the protestors, SCAF envisioned creating an unconsolidated democracy, in which it would continue its tutelary powers, maintain its reserve domains, and protect its interests from the previously threatening Mubarak family. It is quite telling that this solution was dubbed the “Turkish model,” and it was Page 175 →reported that Tantawi had ordered the translation of the 1982 Turkish constitution.72 The appeal of the Turkish model was that the military would continue to enjoy its political prerogatives while the mobilized Egyptians would blow off their steam with free and fair elections and the minimum existence of other procedural conditions of a democracy.73 Thus, an unconsolidated democracy would give the protestors “what they wanted” and thereby cement the legitimacy of the military and protect the privileges of the armed forces. In this framework, as before, the military would not dirty its hands by engaging in the day-to-day governance of the country.74 The seemingly erratic behavior of the military from February 2011 until it overthrew Morsi in July 2013 demonstrates the intention of SCAF to establish an unconsolidated democracy. On the one hand, the generals increased their own powers and tried to repress the protestors at every turn;75 on the other hand, they continued with the agenda to carry out elections and acquiesce to their results even when their favored candidates did not win. As the 2012 presidential election results signified, things did not go according to SCAF’s plans. Indeed, the short-lived coup of 2011 turned out to be fragile, rather than successful. At first, Mubarak was the common enemy, and all forces of the opposition could agree on his ouster. But the members of this loose coalition naturally had very different agendas, and the differences between the elites became clear almost immediately. In the early days of February 2011, the anti-Mubarak coalition included protestors from various backgrounds, consisting of liberals and seculars from civil society organizations and the working class. Aside from the military, they were backed by other groups within the regime’s elite who had turned against Mubarak. Under his regime, the judiciary had gained relative independence, and the Supreme Constitutional Court (SCC) had shown tendencies to uphold political rights formally granted by the constitution.76 The reformist group within the judiciary took over the Judges’ Club in the mid-2000s and allied with the Kefaya movement and the Muslim Brotherhood before being repressed by the regime.77 Similar to the judiciary, there were various groups within big business with different interests. Although some businesspeople were enthusiastic supporters of Mubarak, others were at a disadvantage compared with the regime’s favorites. Even those known as Gamal’s cronies were abandoned by the regime during its last days, when the public prosecutor fulfilled the demands of the protestors and started cases against some businesspeople turned politicians. Most businesspeople associated with the Mubarak regime left Egypt in fear, while others maintained their silence when SCAF took over, preferring stability over the unpredictability of the protests.78 Page 176 →With the start of the protests, the religious adversaries of the regime, mainly the Muslim Brotherhood

and the Salafists, saw an opportunity to increase their political influence. The biggest coalition partner of SCAF at the beginning was the Muslim Brotherhood (MB). Founded in 1928 and aspiring to establish an Islamic society and a state functioning according to the principles of sharia, the MB had had an ambivalent relationship with the outgoing regime since the 1950s. It was sometimes allowed to carry out its social and cultural activities—to counterbalance more radical Islamist organizations—and sometimes heavily repressed.79 During Mubarak’s reign, the MB was able to extend its social activities; at a time when the regime’s neoliberal policies were leading to welfare retrenchment and increased inequality, it was able to fill the vacuum with services to the poor. Despite the repression of the regime, the MB was the largest and best-organized group when Mubarak resigned. SCAF had no real options to which to turn other than the MB. While the regime’s National Democratic Party collapsed when its leaders resigned,80 the liberal opposition was too divided to organize into a credible political party. Perhaps SCAF could have waited for the liberals to organize, but given their democratic agenda, they could have easily threatened the political and economic interests of the military. The MB and SCAF had similar interests in containing the liberal demands of the demonstrators.81 Given its ideological refrainment from revolts and its conservativism, the MB had not led the uprising and joined it only in the later stages.82 After Mubarak’s regime fell, SCAF and the MB made a bargain, as evidenced by SCAF’s decisions to hold parliamentary elections first and write the constitution later.83 The elections would have given a mandate to the MB and allowed it to control the transition. The MB, in return, supported SCAF’s constitutional amendments and declarations before the elections, even though the military appeared highly inconsistent.84 The secular opposition was left out of the bargain, and they had never trusted the intentions of the MB. As expected, the parliamentary elections of December 2011 and January 2012 marked the victory of the Islamists. A coalition including the newly founded party of the MB, the Freedom and Justice Party (FJP), won 45 percent of the seats in the lower house. While the Salafist Islamist bloc achieved 25 percent, the secular opposition parties received only 14 percent.85 Following the elections and especially on the matter of selecting the 100 members of the constituent assembly, relations between the MB/FJP and the secular parties soured. The Administrative Court sided with the seculars and banned the first assembly, due to the overrepresentationPage 177 → of Islamists. However, a final deal was reached under the pressure of the military.86 The members of the constituent assembly were selected in June 2012, but this hardly ended the controversy between the Islamists and the seculars, who were in conflict over the role of religion in the constitution.87 The elite coalition of military, business, MB, judiciary, and liberal leaders was too fragile to merge around a common set of goals. If resistance to Mubarak unified them at the beginning, the rules that would guide the new democratic regime split them up. When it came to the task of writing a new constitution for the unconsolidated democracy, the coup failed due to struggles between various political groups. This conflict eventually triggered the set of events that culminated in the 2013 intervention.

The Military Intervention of 2013 The election of Morsi to the presidency increased the struggle between the Islamist and secular elites. When it became apparent that the MB/FJP would dominate the executive, the secular groups took precautions before the election results were known. On 14 June 2012, the SCC declared one-third of the parliament unconstitutional, dissolving the lower house and putting into jeopardy the status of the constituent assembly. A few days later, SCAF took over legislative functions and granted itself the power to determine a new constituent assembly if the current one failed. When Morsi won the elections, however, he tried to reverse these moves of the judiciary and the military. In August, he attempted to reconvene the parliament and declared himself the only authority who could make constitutional declarations. Then, on 22 November, Morsi issued a constitutional declaration stating that the judiciary would not be able to oversee the decisions of the constituent assembly and the presidency. Widely interpreted as an attempt to gather all powers in his hands, these moves became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Any possibility of reconciliation between the MB/FJP and the seculars was permanently shelved. The constituent assembly, dominated by Islamists, rushed a constitution in December 2012, securing the political prerogatives and autonomy of the military. But, amid the cries of seculars that some of the constitutional

articles would Islamize Egypt, the MB/FJP’s attempt to maintain its coalition with the military failed to appease SCAF.88 The MB/FJP leadership feared that the old regime might return and believed that the opposition would never recognize the electoral strength of the MB/FJP and allow it to rule Egypt. Therefore, the MB/FJP’s best choice was to collaborate with the military—an unreliable institution that had repressedPage 178 → it in the past—and use repression against its opponents, as demonstrated by its restriction of free press.89 For their part, the seculars perceived the MB/FJP as a threat to their well-being, because of its tendency to ignore the forces behind the 2011 uprising, even in the critical matter of the constitution.90 Later moves of the MB/FJP, such as drafting legislation to reform the judiciary and appointing 10 MB members as new governors to the provinces, alarmed the seculars, in that the MB was infiltrating state ranks by placing its own supporters.91 Although the MB claimed to have accepted democratic principles, past experience signaled to the opposition that the MB could not be trusted. Contemporary shifts only added fuel to the fire. For instance, in the aftermath of the 2011 uprisings, the MB had claimed that it would keep the nominated candidates to a limited number of parliamentary seats and would not run in the presidential elections, yet it changed its opinion on both counts, leading to further questions of its sincerity.92 Another reason that Morsi’s year in power did not help reconcile these perceptions was the MB/FJP’s ineptness in governing, especially in the economic realm. Given that the 2011 uprisings were triggered by economic demands, it was crucial to provide better living conditions to the poor. But there were no signs of recovery under Morsi. The business community felt threatened by the economic downturn and the government’s policies.93 When in power, the MB/FJP founded its own business association, the Egyptian Business Development Association (EBDA), imitating the Turkish businesspeople’s association, MГњSД°AD. Similar to the close relationship enjoyed between the JDP and MГњSД°AD, EBDA members had special standing and joined President Morsi on his foreign trips. Although some Mubarak-era economic elites also became EBDA members to reap the benefits, Morsi’s continued hostile rhetoric accusing capitalists of corruption and threatening to put them on trial severed the ties between big business and the government. In January 2013, one of the biggest companies in Egypt attempted to move its operations overseas. To prevent this unfavorable outcome, regulations were changed, the company was charged new taxes, and its owners were banned from traveling. Although, in the end, a deal was struck, allowing the company to move, this experience was a bitter reminder that capitalists were subject to the whims of the president.94 To bolster their positions, several influential businesspeople funded opposition parties and used their media networks to challenge Morsi. When these strategies failed, they allied with the military. In the aftermath of the 2011 uprisings, SCAF had arrested businesspeople who were Gamal’s close confidants and political figureheads. However, no sweeping cleansing of big business had been carried out, and SCAF was willing to work with businesspeoplePage 179 → who did not have political aspirations. In early 2012, SCAF had made changes in the legal framework, allowing those who were charged with malfeasance to settle out of court.95 This opened the path for many businesspeople to return to Egypt or clear their names from any past or future crimes, in exchange for paying fines.96 Given SCAF’s record while in power, the wise strategic choice was for big business to ally with the military against Morsi. Thus, just like the loose coalition that brought down Mubarak, another alliance of actors who did not have much in common except for their opposition to the MB/FJP coalesced around the common goal of overthrowing Morsi. Beginning with the November 2012 constitutional declaration of Morsi and escalating further between April and July 2013, these groups mobilized against the president and carried out protests for the purpose of toppling him. To sustain his power, Morsi mobilized his supporters and established the Anti-Coup Alliance with other Islamist parties and movements. Some actions of the Morsi followers—such as seizure of the SCC offices, assaults on journalists, or violent clashes attacking protestors in front of the president’s offices—increased fears.97 Shortly before the military intervention in 2013, a group called Tamarod was organized, bringing together the opposition against Morsi. Tamarod was supported by secular leaders and civil society organizations associated with the 2011 uprising, factions in the judiciary, several businesspeople, the security apparatus of the Ministry of

Interior, and the military.98 Tamarod claimed to have collected more than 20 million signatures to oust President Morsi on the anniversary of his inauguration. The group organized a mass demonstration, joined by millions in major cities, on 30 June 2013. They were confronted by Morsi supporters, and in the resulting battle, around 20 people died, triggering the military intervention on 3 July.99 This type of “mobilization and countermobilizationВ .В .В . rang the alarm bells of chaos and economic collapse. Indeed, it sounded the klaxon of civil war.”100 Just like some fragile coups that have turned into authoritarian regimes when the coalition that backed them fractured and threatened the core interests of the military, the fragile coup of 2011 in Egypt also turned into an authoritarian regime. SCAF’s calculation when it decided to cooperate with the MB was that the latter would control the streets and swiftly produce a constitution that would establish an unconsolidated democratic regime with the interests of the military intact. However, the failure of the MB/FJP to reconcile with the opposition intensified the street protests and increased the controversy over the constitution. Indeed, the uprising that led to Mubarak’s downfall turned into demonstrations against SCAF once the military’s decisions to cooperate with the MB, maintain its political prerogatives,Page 180 → and continue to use repression became clear. A wave of protests shook Cairo from March 2011 to December 2011. In early April 2011, millions gathered in Tahrir, condemning “SCAF for not following through on revolutionary demands.”101 In November, the MB also participated in the protests to prevent SCAF from dominating politics even further and to pressure it to hold elections.102 Although protests briefly ended with the legislative elections, thousands again flowed onto the streets between 19 and 24 June 2012, protesting SCAF’s constitutional declaration of a few days earlier. After Morsi’s election, protestors diverted their attention to the president, but the MB’s decision to mobilize its supporters to defend against the protestors proved to the military that only an authoritarian regime would repress the mobilized lower classes and the threatening elites at the same time (see table 7.3 for a combination of these two sources of threats). Compared with some leaders of fragile coups attempting to establish authoritarian regimes (like the Greek coup in 1925 or the Turkish coup in 1960), the Egyptian military’s success in establishing its authoritarian regime is noteworthy. Without major hurdles, the military proclaimed a new constitution in January 2014 and managed to elect Sisi to the presidency in June 2014. The MB was crushed, with possibly thousands of its supporters dead and hundreds of its leaders and members facing execution. The unity of the military is the critical reason behind this triumph over the opposition. Although elite opposition triggers military splits in many fragile coups, the Egyptian armed forces seems to have dodged that bullet. This is not to say that there are no splits in the armed forces. On the contrary, the August 2012 reshuffling of the military high command by Morsi was interpreted by many as prearranged with the military and as the president’s attempt to appeal to the younger generation of generals by retiring the aging top brass.103 Because there is no retirement age in the military,104 the higher ranks are swollen, and the lower ranks face promotional bottlenecks. For the senior military officers, there are well-paid managerial positions available in many of the military’s economic activities or in private enterprises, but these posts depend on personal relationships and networks, leading to bitter feelings among those that do not have access.105 Moreover, with Sisi’s presidency, the military-as-government has been separated from the military-as-institution. This indicates that if the latter feels challenges to its interests, it might not hesitate to overthrow the former, just as it overthrew Mubarak.106 Thus, below the surface, the unity of the military might be a ticking bomb, with the possibility of lower ranks turning against their superiors or of the military-as-institution toppling the president.107 That this possibility has been avoided so far explainsPage 181 → the success of Sisi’s takeover, but it should not lead to confident assessments of the ultimate consolidation of the regime. As with military unity, the same type of caution must be exercised when counting on the support of the groups that united around the military to repress the MB. When Sisi declared the military’s intervention, he was joined by al-Baradei, representing the liberal secular group of the National Salvation Front; the leaders of the Salafist al-Nour Party; the leader of the highest religious authority, al-Ahzar; and the Coptic patriarch.108 Yet the liberals soon left the coalition, as signified by al-Baradei’s resignation from the vice presidency, when it became clear that the military was establishing an authoritarian regime. The Salafists thought that they would survive as the last religious organization standing and avoid repression, but the 2014 constitution banned political

parties based on religion, and the early results of the 2015 parliamentary elections suggest that they lost any kind of influence over government.109 By December 2014, President Sisi seemed to rely mostly on big business and the Gulf States to fund and carry out his “mega projects.” But new taxes and higher fuel prices imposed by the regime, as well as the increasing economic role of the military, indicate that business might be at a disadvantage in this relationship.110 Given that economic considerations were the priority for most Egyptians in 2011,111 the two coalitional allies must deliver economic results and secure the lives and living standards of diverse groups of actors in Egyptian society. Otherwise, politics in this Arab nation may again witness lower classes taking matters onto the streets and demanding the return of the revolution that was hijacked from them in February 2011. In this chapter, by looking at four different interventions in Thailand and Egypt, I have argued that although the ideological reasons behind past interventions in Greece and Turkey and contemporary coups in other countries seem to differ, the fundamental reasons are the same. In all cases, the militaries have perceived threats to their interests from rival elites and/or previously underrepresented lower classes. In the recent cases of Thailand and Egypt, rival elites were initially overthrown by short-lived coups, but when street protests against the military and its allies escalated, authoritarian regimes were established. In all instances, a group of political and economic elites sided with the militaries, perceiving similar threats to their well-being and security. In none of the cases were these coalitions set in stone, but holding the coalition together proved easier in some cases than in others. For Thailand and Egypt, the future of their current authoritarian regimes looks Page 182 →bleak. In both countries, lower-class contentious action is likely to return, especially if elite splits become more visible and if the opposition encourages its supporters to mobilize. The response of the militaries to these renewed challenges would depend on the unity of the armed forces and the new coalitions they would forge or the old ones they would try to sustain. The long and challenging experience of Greece and Turkey with democracy demonstrates that establishing any type of democratic regime, let alone a consolidated one with the military losing its political role altogether, would involve long struggles among elites and between upper and lower classes.

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8. Conclusion The Key Premises Primarily focusing on Greek and Turkish history and secondarily overviewing the last military interventions in Egypt and Thailand, this book sought to find the origins of various types of authoritarian and democratic regimes in countries where the military is a significant political actor. Analyzing power balances in society and the regime preferences of the armed forces, politicians, and economic elites, the book suggested a theoretical framework for understanding when elites repress or tolerate their opposition. In this concluding chapter, before I outline future prospects for Greece and Turkey, I summarize the key premises of the theoretical framework from the perspective of a chronological order of possible events that may occur before, during, and after a hypothetical military intervention. The goal of this type of presentation is to highlight the main findings of this book from a different, reader-friendly angle. Of course, the stages identified in this chapter do not need to follow each other on a linear path in every case. Once a military takeover occurs, it can continue for decades without collapsing; or when the military returns to its barracks, the resultant regime might be authoritarian and not democratic; or what looks like a democratic transition might come to an abrupt halt with another military intervention. Indeed, the cases analyzed in this book and the current state of affairs in Greece, Turkey, Egypt, and Thailand remind us once again of the pitfalls of the transition paradigm, which assumes a linear path toward democracy once an authoritarian regime collapses.1 Keeping in mind these possibilities, the stages identified in the following pages must be perceived not as steps that line up together to make up a larger process but as three separate and distinct episodes that influence but do not necessarily follow each other. Page 184 →

The Three Interconnected Stages of a Theoretical Military Intervention The case analysis of this book started in Greece, with the unconsolidated democracy that was established in the 19th century and that precariously continued following the 1909 coup. In Turkey, the authoritarian regime that was established following the First World War persisted in ruling the country, despite brief liberal openings in the 1920s and in 1930. In Egypt, an authoritarian regime was in existence since the Free Officers coup in 1952. In Thailand, the regime was an unconsolidated democracy, although there were mistaken hopes, until the 2006 coup, that it might eventually consolidate. Thus, in all contexts, the starting point of this book’s narrative was a nondemocratic regime and a military intervention. Although different in duration and aims, all countries shared similarities that led their armed forces to take over the government. What were the motives behind these and other military interventions occurring in these four countries? Why were some interventions more successful than others in their repressive strategies? Why has Greece ultimately consolidated its democracy, following the transition in 1974, while Turkey has struggled since the 1983 transition? Why has the 2011 uprising in Egypt never turned out to be a democratic opening, while the 2006 coup in Thailand was replaced by another intervention only eight years later? Finally, based on the answers to these questions, what would be the generalizable premises about the causes, nature, and outcomes of military interventions?

The Causes of a Military Intervention One of the critical findings of this book is that the aims of military interventions differ based on the source of the conflict in the period preceding the coup. All interventions reflect perceptions of threat to security and well-being, felt by different sections of the elites. If the threat is perceived to be from only elite groups, even if those elites have successfully mobilized constituencies and have won the elections, the response would be an intervention that

would intend to remain in power for a short period of time. The goal would be to repair the unconsolidated democracy by getting rid of the challenging elite group and by closing down its political parties or other affiliated institutions. The putschists would envision writing a new constitution or amending the laws and returning to the barracks within a couple of years. The Greek interventions during the interwar period, Turkish putsches Page 185 →in 1960 and 1971, the Thai coup of 2006, and the Egyptian coup of 2011 fit this model of a short-lived coup. If the threat is perceived to be from nonelite groups, the response would be the establishment of an authoritarian regime. Military officers might declare their intention to make a transition in a short period of time, but once in power, the rulers would repress the mobilized lower classes by the creation of an authoritarian regime. They would write a new constitution and create institutions that would cancel political freedoms. The military-asinstitution might return to the barracks, like in Turkey in the 1920s or in the Egyptian authoritarian regime, but the military-as-government would continue to make the most important decisions and would have the final say.2 In other words, the rulers might take their uniforms off and “civilianize” the regime, but its backbone would remain with the armed forces. Even if these regimes might hold elections, they would be anything but free or fair. The authoritarian leaders would determine which groups, parties, or individuals were safe enough to run in the elections, and they would ban those perceived to be dangerous. Under domestic and international pressure, the rulers may call these elections democratic, but they actually would be highly restrictive, and the results would reflect the choices of the authoritarian leaders. Based on these points, from a theoretical perspective, the critical matter is to distinguish the source of threat as either other elite groups or the lower classes. This difference might not be obvious or clear-cut in all cases, especially when it is considered that all threatening elites have lower-class support to a certain extent. However, if nonelite groups are, for the most part, politically mobilized to vote in the elections, their existence would seemingly be tied to the threatening elite groups and their parties. Party leaders might hold rallies attended by thousands of people, and they might give speeches to crowds, but the main purpose of these meetings would be to support the leaders in their electoral ambitions. Under these circumstances, the military and its allies would believe that shutting down the party and restricting the political activities of its leaders would cripple the threat, like in Turkey in 1997 or in Thailand in 2006. Yet, if the lower classes engage in social mobilization, by also taking matters to the streets (usually without the presence of the party leaders themselves) and engaging in demonstrations, strikes, or even violence (like in Greece in the 1930s and 1960s, in Thailand in 2014, and in Egypt in 2013), the source of threat would not just be the elites. It might have been the elites who mobilized their constituencies in the first place, but this mobilization was done for the purpose of changing the social, political, or economic status quo. Thus, the main purpose of the mobilization would Page 186 →be not just winning the elections but weakening the opposition and its power base in the system by means of methods beyond the ballot box. An important distinction in social mobilization also exists between contained peripheral regions and core areas, such as the capital city and other metropolitan areas. Certainly, ethnic insurgencies in peripheral regions, such as in the Kurdish populated areas of Turkey or in the Malay provinces of southern Thailand, also challenge the political and social status quo by frequent riots, terrorism, or other forms of violence, but they do not trigger military interventions in the capital on their own. In these peripheral regions, the military might apply martial law or declare a state of emergency and thereby bring the regions under repressive rule. Increasing military powers in these regions would be problematic for democracy: by giving more political autonomy to the armed forces, wars against insurgent forces would further increase the military’s already existing powers. If such insurgent activity is combined with other threats, it would be less costly for the putschists to intervene in politics. However, despite these consequences of ethnic and regional conflict for civil-military relations, evidence shows that when they are contained to peripheral provinces, they do not provide the main rationale for a short-lived coup or an authoritarian regime. In other regions of the country, life would continue “as usual,” and the central elites would not perceive their security and well-being to be in danger. Although all military interventions in domestic politics are primarily against threats at home, international circumstances have important roles to play in altering the calculations of actors. All of the countries that were analyzed in this book (including Thailand and Egypt) have been Western allies. As such, their militaries received

substantial aid and supplies over the decades. This type of international support to the military in nondemocratic countries maintains domestically powerful armed forces that can use their relative dominance over society by staging coups and establishing/sustaining authoritarian regimes. Put differently, military aid is one of the reasons why the costs of suppression are never too high for interventionist cliques allied with the United States in particular and with the West in general. Moreover, despite verbal criticisms, most military interventions in allied countries are not economically or politically penalized by the West. The US reaction to the 2014 Thai intervention was quite severe compared with other cases analyzed in this book, leading to the suspension of “some military aid.” Yet, even in this case, “in truth, most other military links have remained intact.”3 Thus, for military and civilian actors, prospects of “punishment” do not decrease the benefits associated with repression. The aid that goes to the armed forces Page 187 →facilitates indirectly the conditions that lead to interventions, while timid verbal reactions do nothing to prevent them.

The Nature of a Military Intervention The second premise of this book is that once a military intervention occurs, elite support and military unity would determine its relative success in repressing the opposition. The power of the military group vis-Г -vis the opposition forces would reflect historical, political, and socioeconomic factors. These would be somewhat unique to each country and depend on such factors as how and under what conditions the state was formed, whether there were aristocratic or other economic elites who could challenge the power of the military, how economic development was achieved (e.g., was it state-led or based on the initiatives of an independent business class), and (as mentioned above) whether the country had international allies who would provide arms and support that could shift the balance of power in favor of the military. Aside from these contingent factors, however, two influences that would increase the capacity of interventionists are, first, having the majority of political and economic elite groups on board and, second, maintaining military unity. These two factors reinforce each other. When the elites are united, it is easier for the military to maintain its coherence as well. Likewise, if the military appears united, elites who might have opposed the intervention are more likely to acquiesce. Naturally, common perceptions of threat prior to the intervention would make coherence possible, at least in the initial stages. But during the period of military rule, elites might discover their different interests and oppose each other over political, economic, social, or international policies. Thus, every military rule is vulnerable to fractures among its ranks and supporters. If the main intention of the culprits was to stage a short-lived coup, initial military unity and elite backing would help take over the government, but extending the alliance to rival groups would be difficult. Since short-lived coups are triggered by intra-elite conflict in the first place, there would always be relatively strong elite factions that would oppose the intervention. For this reason, most coups are fragile, and once they take over the government, they cannot completely succeed in cleansing the opposition from politics. This was the fate of most Greek and Turkish coups. If a group of military leaders realize during their rule that they would be relatively unsuccessful, they might even consider establishing an authoritarian regime to circumvent the unavoidable, as was the case in Greece in 1925, in Turkey after 1960, and Page 188 →in Egypt after 2011. However, if the rulers are eventually forced to make a transition back to democracy, they face circumstances similar to those that led to the intervention or, due to the agitation of the opposition, even worse ones. That is why coups trigger more coups, until the unconsolidated democracy makes way to a completely different regime. Coups that manage to suppress the opposition at least in the short term and that are therefore more successful result from military unity and acquiescence of even the opposition elites. Those elites would back down either because they calculate that submitting would guarantee a quicker return to democracy or—if they were politically on their last legs during the precoup period—because the coup extended their life. Opposition elites hope that if they “behave well” during the coup, they can again participate in the new democracy, albeit with more moderate policies. Such calculations explain the success of the 1980 and 1997 coups in Turkey. In both coups, the opposition elites complied with the military, did not mobilize their supporters, and later participated in the transitional path formulated by the military.

If the main aim of the intervention was to establish an authoritarian regime, military unity and elite support would help consolidate the new system. Achieving and sustaining elite coherence might be easier when compared with a coup, especially if the lower classes were mobilized on their own prior to intervention, without the encouragement or the backing of the elites. Under such circumstances, the elites would together crush the lower classes, like in Greece after 1936. Yet elites might split over policy differences and signal to the protestors that they have better opportunities if they demonstrate against the regime. The existence of such resistance to the regime would result in unconsolidated authoritarianism. Continued struggles between protestors and the rulers might lead to violence, like in Greece between 1967 and 1974. Such unconsolidated regimes might finally consolidate (like in Turkey after 1930), especially if contingent historical, socioeconomic, and international factors permit it; or they might be overthrown, with the cooperation of opposition elites and lower-class protestors. The current Thai and Egyptian authoritarian regimes face both of these possibilities: either they will maintain concordance with other elites and suppress probable protests, or they will face broad opposition, leading to bloodshed, a period of instability, and a possible transition to democracy.

The Aftermath of the Military’s Withdrawal The final period of an intervention would start with the withdrawal of the armed forces from politics by giving power back to civilians and preparing the Page 189 →way for the creation of a democratic regime. Some militaries might decide to democratize if the outgoing intervention’s purpose was to eliminate the threatening elites and continue with a more controlled democratic regime. Some militaries, however, withdraw out of necessity, not out of choice. Such necessity might arise (as argued above) due to pro-democratic elites’ pressure on and circumvention of the military, lower-class protests, splits occurring within the ranks of the armed forces and considerably weakening their repressive capabilities, and international circumstances that threaten the survival of the military or even the nation as a whole. Usually, a combination of such factors would force the putschists to withdraw, irrespective of their intentions. The manner in which the military withdraws is important for the future of the democratic regime. By definition, a consolidated democracy requires the military to give up all of its tutelary powers and reserve domains. Civilian control of the armed forces is an integral part of democratization in countries with dominant armed forces and histories of interventions. Civilian control would be easier to achieve in the short run if the military is withdrawing out of necessity and from a weakened position, as happened in Greece after 1974. The Turkish 1983, Egyptian 2011, and Thai 2007 cases show that when transitions are dominated by the military, politics would continue to be under tutelage, and the country would be prone to more interventions, like the ones that followed the controlled transitions in all three countries. Such a situation might be difficult to reverse, but when the majority of political and economic elites agree and are supported by voters and sections of the military, the armed forces might still lose their political powers. The Turkish case in the early 2000s demonstrates this possibility despite the success of past coups and the entrenchment of military powers within the legal framework. The armed forces losing their political power does not, however, automatically guarantee a consolidated democracy, as the Turkish experience of the recent decade clearly shows. After all, other conditions of a consolidated democracy might falter even when the military is subordinated. Military officers are not the only actors that can jeopardize democracy, and others, including politicians, business groups, and sections of the lower classes, either alone or together, might use instruments incompatible with the liberal principles of democracy to advance their positions. When such means are used, the procedural tenets of a democratic regime—such as free and nonviolent competitions to govern and freedoms of speech, association, communication, and information—may crumble. Moreover, it is possible to imagine future (although difficult) attempts of military intervention even when the armed forces do not have any legal prerogatives left, if conflict continues between various other groups. Page 190 →Thus, the sine qua non of a consolidated democracy is the coalescence of political, economic, and military elites around democracy and its main principles, with the majority of the electorate backing them. This type of union in support of democracy occurs when elite groups do not feel threatened by each other and from the electorate. Perceptions of threat die down simultaneously with the increase of trust among actors that they would not use nondemocratic instruments to defeat one another.

The cases of Greece and Turkey highlight four trends that might facilitate such unions among actors. First, overall economic prosperity, in which both elite groups and lower classes feel better off, eliminates one of the most important points of contention among actors. When the majority’s relative well-being is protected under democracy, demands to change the regime and perceptions of threat as a result of such demands diminish. Democracy in Greece was consolidated in such circumstances of prosperity, when the political elites forged ties with voters through the distribution of material gains. When economic prospects dwindled, so did the link between the elites and voters, resulting in lower-class activism and a period of deconsolidated democracy. Second, the experience of past authoritarian regimes or coups might change actors’ beliefs about nondemocratic solutions. After an undesirable experience, elites “learn” the side effects of repression for their own interests and sometimes come to believe that suppression might not produce the desired effect of eliminating their rival.4 As a result, when faced with a relatively minor threat, they might prefer to continue with democracy, rather than opt for violent instruments, like the choice of Greek elites to continue with democracy despite a PASOK victory in the 1980s. Third, another aspect of historical experience, the positions of various groups in the conflictual situations of the past, determines their views toward one another in the future. If previous battles were resolved with violence, this leaves a bitter memory and is used as evidence that the other side cannot be trusted. Turkish democracy was hindered by such past memories leading to doubts about current intentions. Contrarily, democratic preferences made by the opposition during past experiences increase their credentials for their rivals in the future, making those rivals feel more secure. For instance, the mainstream right-wing political leaders’ democratic preferences in the 1960s and 1970s in Greece made the center-left feel safer once in government, eliminating the necessity to build undemocratic fences. Finally, an international “carrot,” like EU membership, can become an important signal when elites want to prove their intentions to the other side. In the early 2000s, the Turkish JDP government’s frequent references to EU membership as a goal were an instrument that signaled to the liberal elites in Page 191 →the business community and the military that the party was not threatening. Such ideological positions, as well as past experiences, provide “information shortcuts” to actors when they face uncertain situations.5 Although there seems to be a correlation between EU membership and democracy, the Turkish and Greek cases show that political conditionality does not automatically generate consolidation. Actors do not comply with the Copenhagen political criteria just because they expect high economic or other political gains from membership that outweigh their security or well-being concerns at home. Rather, domestic actors seek the EU anchor because they already prefer democracy or because they believe that it will empower them at home. The insistence of Prime Minister Karamanlis to guarantee EU membership for Greece can be interpreted from this perspective. If Karamanlis had not been a leader trying to establish democracy in the first place, he would not have sought EU membership. Similarly, the pro-EU policies of the JDP leadership in the early 2000s cannot be stripped from the motivation to legitimize the party’s rule. This is why analyzing domestic actors’ regime preferences must theoretically come first and before considering their policies toward the EU. To reiterate, once domestic actors make the choice of a democratic regime, they use the EU and its conditionality in an instrumental manner, to strengthen their own positions vis-Г -vis other actors and to signal to the opposition that they have pro-democratic preferences. Since preferring democracy is a necessary condition for EU membership, the EU’s positive influence is only secondary to the domestic actors’ induced interests and to their attitudes deriving from those interests. Today’s EU, with Greece as a deconsolidated democracy and other members, such as Hungary, shifting toward authoritarianism, clearly shows the deficiency in supposing a direct causal relationship between the EU and democratic consolidation.

Regimes in the Postmilitary Context: Future Prospects for Greece and Turkey Although I did not theorize regimes where the military is not a dominant actor, of course there are many countries in which authoritarianism originates from the civilian sphere and not from the military. The regimes in Greece following the 2009 economic crisis and in Turkey since the 2007 elections confirm that the regime question may continue in countries where the military comes under civilian control and loses its political predominance. But

when civilians prefer nondemocratic solutions to bypass the opposition, they need a repressive arm to carry out their goals. If allying with Page 192 →the military is not an option, this repression can be exercised by police forces or paramilitary groups that civilians establish to further their interests. Recently, the police in both Greece and Turkey have shown tendencies to use disproportionate force against protestors, leading to cycles of violence among government and opposition forces, outside of the parameters of a consolidated democracy. Yet, establishing authoritarian regimes in both countries would require building an alliance (again after many years) with the military or ramping up the suppressive capabilities of the police forces. This scenario seems less likely in Greece than it is in Turkey. Today, Greece and Turkey resemble each other in the sense that recent governing elites in both countries attributed new meanings to elections. Both the SYRIZA and JDP governments have framed elections in ways that increased their own legitimacy and further shunned the opposition. SYRIZA went to polls two times in three months after it got elected in January 2015, once for a referendum on the bailout deal and once for snap elections. It is clear that elections are seen as a tool to bypass the opposition, whether that opposition is fellow party members, other political elites, or foreign creditors. In Turkey, the JDP leadership utilizes election results in similar ways. Although the majoritarian understanding of the JDP is not a violent instrument in and of itself, its consequences are still severe in repressing the opposition. Once the winners of the elections declare themselves as the only legitimate force because they have the backing of the majority in society, they leave no room for reconciliation with the opposition and for the latter to voice its policies and demands. The prospects for democracy look brighter in Greece than in Turkey. Greece is ethnically more homogeneous than Turkey and, at the time of this writing, in December 2015, is not facing ethnic conflict like Turkey. Historically speaking, Turkey’s diversity in terms of ethnic and religious identity can provide a structural reason for its more problematic democratization process. Although this difference is worth mentioning for its potential as a long-term explanation, it cannot explain the various different democratic experiences and coups in Turkey. Simply put, social diversity is a constant element, but regime outcomes (democracy vs. authoritarianism) have varied throughout history. Greece’s relatively more homogenous ethnic composition means that there is no secessionist insurgency. But this has not made the country immune to military interventions in the past and does not guarantee domestic peace at turbulent times. Moreover, Greece is now under pressure with the influx of refugees. Although the refugees themselves are not yet part of a conflict, their arrival leads to anxiety among farright voters and escalates racial attacks against the refugees. Whether the far-right current will be containedPage 193 → and whether democracy will again consolidate depend partly on the refugee crisis and how it will be solved. The second condition for the return of democratic consolidation to Greece is overcoming the economic impasse and settling on a new economic model that will be acceptable to the majority and that will guarantee limited but stable prosperity. The mounting opposition against the EU and the IMF necessitates a solution that is also acceptable to Greece’s international partners. Contrary to the past experience of Greece, the involvement of the EU in the Greek economy is increasing polarization in society and exacerbating the conflict over the economy. In contrast to its pro-democratic role in the past, the EU is becoming a factor that leads to deconsolidation. AntiEU actors in domestic politics fervently criticize European involvement in Greek affairs. Tabbing nationalist sentiments, these parties increase their own popularity at the expense of finding a solution to the economic and political crisis. Even if democracy has become deconsolidated in the last decade, the chances for a return to a consolidated regime in Greece are high once the worst effects of the economic crisis have been weathered. Until that day comes, however, some basic liberties might be questioned, governments and coalitions might not be stabilized, and the economic and political future of the country might be in doubt. The personal safety as well as the property of many Greek citizens and immigrants might be jeopardized. After nearly 30 years of a consolidated democracy, Greece might once again experience the adverse effects of an unconsolidated regime. The situation in Turkey is more uncertain. At the time of this writing, in December 2015, Turkey appears to be in a transition from unconsolidated democracy to authoritarianism. As in every transition period, there is ambiguity,

and it is not clear what type of regime will follow. With the renewal of conflict in the Kurdish regions, the military found new opportunities to extend its influence. According to some observers, ErdoДџan controls the top brass in the armed forces but not the junior officers, which suggests that a military intervention can take place by the latter group in the near future.6 Keeping in mind this prospect, there are three possible futures for Turkey. The first scenario is that the current set of affairs will continue. There will be free elections, but government and opposition violence will not make them fair. The government will continue to restrict the freedoms of speech, association, and information gathering. This would not be full authoritarianism, but it would be more restrictive than the periods of unconsolidated democracy experienced in Turkey since 1950. Levitsky and Way call this type of regime “competitive authoritarianism,” where there is no “level playing field between incumbents and opposition.” Neither Greece nor Turkey has experienced this Page 194 →type of regime in their histories. On the one hand, the three authoritarian regimes I have analyzed in this book match Levitsky and Way’s description of “full authoritarian regimes,” in which “no viable channels exist for opposition to contest legally for executive power.” On the other hand, in all unconsolidated democracy episodes, the incumbent and the opposition had an even playing field, and different parties took turns in governing. This lack of “competitive authoritarianism” in the case of Turkey occurred partly because the military eventually intervened either to fully repress both the government and the opposition (as in the 1980 coup) or to suppress the government that was attempting to silence the opposition (as in the 1960 coup).7 Unless the military hierarchy or factions within it intervene again in Turkish politics, this type of competitive authoritarianism seems likely to endure in the near future. The second possibility is the opposition forces’ mobilization against the JDP. As evidenced by the Gezi Park protests, a diverse group of liberals, Kemalists, leftists, and Kurds can come together in a more sustained protest cycle. If this scenario materializes, in the given power configurations, it would lead the JDP and President ErdoДџan to perceive this activism as a threat that must be suppressed by the creation of a full-fledged authoritarian regime. Free elections would be canceled, and the major political parties that have a potential to overthrow the JDP from power and/or to mobilize the voters would be closed down. The history of Greece and Turkey suggests that an authoritarian regime that would be established in response to lower-class mobilization, with such polarization among elites, would be unconsolidated, leading at best to turmoil and at worst to civil war. Under such conditions, the military may not stay in its barracks for long, and cliques within the armed forces or the general staff might consider intervening for or against the government. The final, more optimistic option is for the JDP to lose the elections in the long run and for the government to change hands peacefully, instilling trust into various factions in society. This scenario does not seem likely without the trigger of a crisis or an unforeseen event changing the balance of power between the JDP and the opposition. But if the JDP loses its majority in parliament, the promise of the 2002–7 period might be fulfilled, and democracy might finally consolidate. As Greece and Turkey leave military rule behind yet fail to stay in consolidated democracies, they continue to inform our theoretical comprehension of the origins of regimes. Whatever the future holds for these countries, they will carry on being illuminating cases, attracting the attention of academics interested in understanding democracy, authoritarianism, and their consolidation.

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Afterword The Failed Military Intervention in Turkey on 15 July 2016 I finished writing the main body of this book in December 2015 and made a couple of relatively minor changes in April 2016. I decided not to incorporate new developments after December 2015, knowing that I otherwise would not be able to call the book done. A failed military intervention took place in Turkey on 15 July 2016, when the book was “out of my hands.” Integrating this last event into the book’s chapters was an impossible task, both because the book was finished and because the developments were still too fresh to properly analyze. I am grateful that I was still given the opportunity to add this afterword in early August 2016, roughly three weeks after the intervention. There are still many unknowns regarding who was the leader of the coup in the military, which officers and civilians got involved with the conspiracy, and what the plotters’ exact plans were when they moved on the night of 15 July. The statements of the captured military officers do not add up, and there is much confusion about the exact flow of events in different locations in Ankara, Istanbul, and Marmaris (where President Erdoğan was when the plot unfolded). There are, however, certain facts that were realities to anyone who lived through the events, either at home, in front of the television, or on the streets, actively involved in putting down the coup. Here, I adopt the theory of this book (see chapter 2) and apply the three phases I used to summarize the book’s premises in the conclusion to the 15 July military intervention, based on these objective facts. More information that might be revealed in the subsequent years might refute or buttress the interpretations below.

The Causes of the Military Intervention The exact causes of the intervention are, by and large, still unknown. It is certain that the plotters’ main targets were the politicians. President ErdoДџan Page 196 →was on holiday in Marmaris, and his hotel was bombed shortly after he left. The intervention started roughly at 10:00 p.m., with jets flying low over Ankara, conspirators taking over the Istanbul AtatГјrk Airport, and military tanks seizing the sides of the city’s two bridges connecting Asia to Europe. While ErdoДџan’s airplane could not land either in Ankara or Istanbul until around 3:00 a.m., Prime Minister Binali YД±ldД±rД±m and parliamentarians, who declared their opposition on television as the intervention was taking place, came under attack. The parliament was bombed with government and opposition party members in it, and YД±ldД±rД±m’s car came under fire on his road from Istanbul to Ankara. From the first moments of the putsch onward, the government has repeatedly accused the GГјlenists in the military as the main plotters. In a few days, public opinion converged on this view, and there are now no alternative explanations. The government was preparing to expel hundreds of officers from the military in late July because of their GГјlenist affiliations. It is argued that these officers took action before their purge. If this interpretation is correct, then the action on 15 July was a short-lived coup attempt in its initial stages. One elite group (GГјlenists) tried to eradicate another threatening political group (especially the JDP leadership). As explained in chapter 6 of this book, the two groups have been in conflict for some time, and the imminent purge from the military might have been the triggering cause. A GГјlenist attempt to overthrow the JDP did not come as a surprise, but the infiltration of GГјlen supporters to the military to such an extent and with a potential to carry out a coup was not known to many, including myself. Although I mentioned in this book’s conclusion the possibility of a junior officers’ coup, I did not think that it would be GГјlenist officers. Irrespective of our prior awareness of the power of GГјlenists in the military, it was well known that the Turkish military has never been ideationally monolithic and that there might have been coup plotters, because democracy was not consolidated and because elite conflict continued. The coup perhaps started out with the intention of being a short-lived one, but a few hours after the intervention

started, President ErdoДџan appeared on television and gave interviews to several channels through FaceTime. He urged everyone to go out in the streets to protect democracy and to take over the airports. In a historic turn of events, thousands of people answered ErdoДџan’s call and flooded the streets. They took back AtatГјrk Airport and the bridge. Around 200 civilians died as they heroically defended the civilian regime that night. This type of resistance and social mobilization against a military intervention was unprecedented in Turkish history. For the first time, a military intervention faced common citizens, shooting at Page 197 →them in an attempt to take over the government. According to the theory of this book, one consequence of this social mobilization was that if the military intervention had been successful, it would have resulted in an authoritarian regime. Even if the initial intention was to stage a short-lived coup, once common citizens were mobilized, the putsch would have to turn into an authoritarian regime to repress both the people on the streets and the threatening political elites.

The Nature of the Military Intervention The 15 July attempt ultimately failed, for reasons easy to deduce from the theory of this book.1 The intervention was carried out outside of the military hierarchy. Chief of the General Staff Hulusi Akar and the commanders of the armed forces later declared that they were against the intervention. Although they could not signal their opposition to the rest of the armed forces in the early hours (because they were detained by the conspirators), Commander of the First Army Гњmit DГјndar called President ErdoДџan on the phone and pledged to protect the president’s aircraft if he decided to land in Istanbul. General DГјndar also stated on television that this was an incident carried out by a small clique within the military, that the Turkish Armed Forces were against the coup, and that he was cooperating with the governor of Istanbul to put down the putsch. As theorized in chapter 2, his signal and the silence of the commanders on the night of the coup might have prevented more officers from jumping on the bandwagon with the conspirators. More than 8,500 military personnel were involved with the plot, but that number constituted merely 1.5 percent of the entire armed forces.2 The conspirators also had no backing from the political elites. Aside from the government leaders, including ErdoДџan and YД±ldД±rД±m, who condemned the coup on television, the leaders of all of the opposition parties in parliament also declared that they did not support the putsch. It was later revealed that the plotters called the leader of the NAP, Devlet BahГ§eli, and the head of the RPP, Kemal KД±lД±Г§daroДџlu, to inquire about their endorsement. Both leaders rejected the offer to participate in the coup.3 It is not surprising that the political parties took this option. As I analyzed in chapter 6, from the 2007 failed website declaration of the general staff onward, Turkish elites had turned against military interventions. This anti-coup stance of the elites was also apparent during the Ergenekon and Balyoz trials. All of the opposition parties criticized the trials at the time, but they reiterated their opposition to coups.4 Thus, it was well known that neither the lower classes nor the Page 198 →elites would support a military intervention in 2016. It is interesting that the conspirators moved anyways. Only time will reveal if this was due to misinformation or out of desperation. At the time of this writing, the latter scenario is more likely: the officers, knowing that they were going to be implicated for being GГјlenists, had nothing to lose and decided to take the risk. Yet it became clear very quickly that with no support from the political elites and with a split military, the costs of suppression were too high for the conspirators. The putsch was also either badly planned or poorly executed. With good preparation, the coup might have taken over the government, especially if it could have prevented the prime minister and the president from appearing on television. But the theory of this book predicts that such a coup would have been fragile, because there was no elite unity behind it. As a result, the fragile coup would have led to more conflict between and within the military and the civilians. Some officers might have considered converting the coup into an authoritarian regime, resulting in further confusion, divisions, repression, and possibly countercoups. The authoritarian regime would have been unconsolidated in at least the short run. As I have argued in the conclusion of this book, an unconsolidated authoritarian regime in Turkey today, with several different political fault lines, would have led at best to turmoil and at worst to civil war.

The Aftermath of the Military Intervention Thinking of the possible scenarios of what might have happened if the conspirators had captured the government,

it is clear that Turkey dodged a major bullet and gained a new opportunity. Unsuccessful military interventions can theoretically start a process of democratization, as happened in Greece after 1974. While the military can be reorganized and while interventionist officers can be purged, civilians who had opposed the coup together might start trusting each other and their sincerity in democracy. In Turkey, early marks of this positive atmosphere between political leaders are already occurring. President ErdoДџan came together with the RPP and NAP leaders, and there is a show of public solidarity among the JDP and the opposition parties. Yet the Kurdish minority and its political representatives (the PDP) were not invited to the meetings and seem to be outside of the delicate solidarity of the political parties so far. Indeed, there are pessimistic signs that the failed attempt heightened threat perceptions for the government and the president. In an already insecure environment, the government feels even more uncertain and tries to Page 199 →shore up its position by nondemocratic actions. Shortly after the intervention, the National Security Council and the cabinet declared a state of emergency in the entire country, allowing the government to make laws with decrees, without the consent of the parliament. Any groups perceived to be affiliated with GГјlenists—ranging from universities to primary schools, from civil society organizations to hospitals—were closed down. A major cleansing of the state also started, with thousands of personnel in the ministries, judiciary, and police forces suspended. In early August, the number of arrested people was more than 13,500,5 including a number of highprofile journalists and other civilians who could not have been engaged in carrying out the actual military intervention. The government also began to reorganize the military. All military high schools were closed, and all war academies came under the new National Defense University. There are rumors that properties of the military schools could be turned into hotels or new housing. The commanders of the armed forces were made responsible to the Ministry of National Defense, and there are plans to subordinate the general staff to the presidency after an amendment in the constitution. The armed forces dismissed 1,389 military personnel,6 and some of those who were implicated in the Ergenekon and Balyoz trials were reinstated to their posts. It is remarkable is that all of these changes were made within a few weeks although these haste decisions will have major unforeseen repercussions in the subsequent years. The model of civil-military relations that is being followed is not likely to bring about the democratic control of the armed forces. With this formula, the top brass of the military may come under civilian control, but it is too early to tell if this control would spread toward the lower ranks or would continue if the civilians (i.e., the current government) change. The theory presented in chapter 2 of this book suggests that many officers might perceive the reforms as major threats to the corporate interests of the armed forces. After many rounds of purges since 2008, there may also be officers with personal grudges. The military is being reorganized with the intention of increasingthe costs of suppression. However, the failed intervention on 15 July showed that the costs of suppression were already high. The costs of toleration need decreasing, but the changes so far might have increased threat perceptions among some officers. Thus, to say that there will not be another coup attempt is more difficult now than it was a year ago. Foreseeing this possibility, for almost a month now, President ErdoДџan has asked people to continue guarding the streets by going out on “democracy watches” every night. As I argued above, these watches are extraordinary in Turkish history, and even when they come to an end, the social mobilizationPage 200 → of the lower classes in this manner suggests that Turkey has moved beyond elite conflict. The future prospects for Turkey that I listed at the end of this book’s conclusion are still valid. The country can remain a competitive authoritarian regime, turn into a full-blown authoritarian regime, or (after several years) consolidate its democracy. Any one of these options can be precipitated or further complicated with another coup or a countermobilization, which might lead to increased violence on the streets and even civil war. In the unstable context in which I write this afterword, it seems that uncertainty will continue for some time before any one of these options clearly materializes.

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Appendix Interviews with Greek and Turkish Elites The main part of field research for this book comes from the research I carried out for my dissertation, which I submitted to the University of Virginia’s Woodrow Wilson Department of Politics in 2007. I conducted interviews in Greece (Athens and Salonika) between September 2003 and October 2004 and in Turkey (Ankara, Izmir, and MuДџla) between October 2004 and October 2005. The purpose of these interviews was to understand the threat perceptions of the elites between the 1960s and 1980s and their relative support of military interventions that took place at the time. After my dissertation, I delved into contemporary Turkish politics, and between May and July 2011, I collected the views of 26 elites for another project I participated in as a researcher. This project was funded by the Scientific and Technological Research Council of Turkey (TГњBД°TAK) under the Support Program for Scientific and Technological Research Projects (1001) (project no. 110K462). Either I or a personal assistant interviewed businesspeople, workers’ representatives, journalists, and rectors of universities, asking them questions about their views on the Turkish armed forces and the reforms in civil-military relations that were under way at the time. A year later, when I decided to convert my dissertation into a book and extend the time frame to the current state of affairs in both countries, I went back to Greece to personally catch up with recent developments. In February 2014, I interviewed 18 people in Athens, mostly businesspeople and politicians. The purpose of these interviews was to understand the current situation in greater depth than just following the news or reading the secondary literature would allow. Given the small scale of my latter rounds of interviews in Greece and Turkey and the divergent motives I had when I was conducting the research (especially when compared with the first set of interviews), I chose not to Page 202 →present them in any systematic way. However, some of the evidence I present in chapters 5 and 6 is based on these people’s stories, which verified or allowed me to change my interpretations as I was accumulating information. The same caveat goes for all of the interviews I have conducted since 2003. Around 150 individuals I spoke to helped me understand and internalize the events that have taken place in Greece and Turkey since the 1960s. The importance of the contributions of the interviews to this book are both difficult to trace and hard to describe in words. Many narratives “missing” from the book helped shape my account of events and build my theory. I cite a very few of these narratives as quotes and supporting evidence, to “animate” the story I am trying to convey or to highlight a point that occurred to me only when I was speaking to that individual. The bulk of the data is from interviews with people involved in Greek and Turkish business from the 1960s through the 1980s, the only group presented in numerical format in three chapters herein. In this appendix, I describe the way in which I conducted my interviews with businesspeople, politicians, and military officers between 2003 and 2005. I briefly point out the profiles of the 2011 and 2014 interviewees and list the questions that I asked. I conclude the appendix with the profiles of the Greek and Turkish businesspeople presented numerically in the book.

Field Research in 2003–5 Interviews were conducted with members of the business communities of the two countries, generals who served in the Greek armed forces between 1967 and 1974 or in the Turkish armed forces between 1960 and 1983, and politicians who served as ministers, prime ministers, and/or presidents. In Greece, interviews were carried out with 60 businesspeople, nine retired military officers (including Stylianos Pattakos), and two civilian ministers who served between 1967 and 1974. In Turkey, interviewees include 50 businesspeople, two political party

leaders (one of whom retired as president of the Turkish Republic and the other as prime minister), one cabinet member of the 1971 interim government, and five retired military officers (including Kenan Evren). I conducted relatively structured interviews with the respondents. I had a fixed set of questions (listed below); but given the nature of the topic, I was occasionally forced to change the questions along the way. Most of the interviews resembled a conversation. However, I paid special attention not to ask closed-ended questions (except those that were among the original questions)Page 203 → and not to direct the respondent to a certain answer. When I made the request for an interview and at the beginning of each interview, I explained the purpose of the research to the respondents. All of the businesspeople were granted anonymity, and the politicians and military officers were asked if they preferred to be anonymous. Responses of the Greek businesspeople were not taperecorded, so as to make them feel more secure. The rest of the interviewees were asked their permission for taperecording. Except for one Turkish businessman, all of the respondents agreed to be recorded. One military officer in Greece and one businessman in Turkey were not available for an interview and asked if they could fill out a questionnaire. They wrote their responses to the questions. The respondents were urged to answer the questions by remembering their feelings in the past and during the period that the question specifically addressed. It was explained to them that if they answered the questions with their current feelings, the purposes of the study would be compromised. Most of the interviews were conducted at the offices of the respondents. In a few cases where there was no office, the interviewees invited me to their homes or met with me in a quiet cafГ© or at the offices of an organization to which they belonged. The interviews in Greece were conducted in English. If the respondent did not speak sufficient English, a student was available for translation. All of the interviews in Turkey were carried out in Turkish. The businesspeople who would be contacted for an interview in Greece were selected from the 2003–4 boards of directors of the Hellenic Federation of Enterprises (SEV), Federation of Industries of Northern Greece (SVVE), Salonika Chamber of Commerce and Industry (EVETH), and Athens Chamber of Commerce and Industry (EVEA). Each organization was asked for a list of its board of directors from the 1960s and 1970s; however, none could make this information available. Rather, they provided lists of the current board of directors and their contact details. From these details, companies that were in operation during the 1960s and 1970s (or earlier) were chosen, and their owners, presidents, and/or managers were called. The goal was to reach the oldest owner of the company; however, in some cases, those people were not available, and a request was instead made to a son or daughter operating the company. Unfortunately, none of the shipowners’ unions provided lists of their directors. Therefore, shipowners were underrepresented in the original set. The shipowners that I could reach either had another occupation (that allowed me to contact them using the related organization) or were referred to me by previously interviewed businesspeople or political science scholars. Almost all of the requests for an interview were made on the phone. In only a few cases, a fax was sent prior to the phone call. Page 204 →Interviews were conducted with businesspeople who accepted. Among the 60 respondents who agreed to be interviewed, 10 turned out to be people who could not be categorized as businesspeople for the periods under investigation (their fathers did not fall into this category either). They were self-employed professionals (like lawyers), small shop owners (grocers, hairdressers, etc.) or in other lower-class occupations (e.g., bus drivers). This problem occurred because most of these people changed occupations after the 1980s and/or currently held seats in the chambers. Therefore, even though interviews were conducted with them, they were excluded from the final results. In Greece, I requested an interview from the retired military officers and politicians that were recommended to me by political scientists or earlier respondents. The criteria I used to select among the referred people were as follows: the interviewee must have served in the military between 1967 and 1974, retired from a top-ranking position, and/or played an influential role during the military intervention. The requests for the interviews were made on the phone, and interviews were conducted with those who accepted. In Turkey, I contacted the current and past members of boards of directors and assembly members of the Istanbul Chamber of Commerce (Д°TO), Istanbul Chamber of Industry (Д°SO), Turkish Union of Chambers (TOBB), and Turkish Industry and Business Association (TГњSД°AD). All of these organizations kindly provided lists of and

current contact details for their board of directors (in the chambers, also assembly members) from 1960 onward. All of the available respondents were chosen from the 1960–80 period (however, some of them were still active members of these institutions). The contact details of the politicians and military officers were provided by political parties’ central offices, political scientists, businesspeople, or other associates. In Turkey, all of the requests for an interview were first made by sending a fax and then followed up by phone calls. Interviews were conducted with the people who accepted.

Field Research in 2011 and 2014 The interview data that was collected in Istanbul in 2011 came from four different groups of actors. The first group was businesspeople who were presidents, vice presidents, members of boards of directors, or on the disciplinary committee of peak associations. The names of the individuals who had positions in the administration of these associations were gathered from the Internet, and those individuals were faxed and later called for an interview. Those who accepted to be interviewed formed the final set. TГњSД°AD, Page 205 →MГњSД°AD, Д°SO, and Д°TO were represented by two businesspeople each, and the TOBB by one businessman. The second group consisted of high-profile columnists and/or chief editors of well-known newspapers, such as Cumhuriyet, HaberTГјrk (two people), HГјrriyet, Milliyet (two people), Posta, Radikal, Yeni Ећafak, and Zaman. The editors in chief of all major newspapers were contacted. The interviewees were the contacted editors who agreed to meet, and columnists who were recommended by the editors. The third group consisted of university rectors or vice rectors. Almost all of the rectors from major universities were contacted by e-mail, fax, or phone. Most contemporary rectors rejected being interviewed. As a result, vice rectors or former rectors were also approached. In the end, only five former or contemporary rectors or vice rectors from Д°stanbul, BoДџaziГ§i, SabancД±, KoГ§, Bilgi, and IЕџД±k Universities participated in the research. The final individuals included in the research were two members of the board of directors of the Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey (DД°SK). The members of the board of directors were found on the Internet, and DД°SK was called to provide contact information for those who would be willing to talk. All of the interviewees were granted full anonymity, and 17 respondents agreed to be tape-recorded. All interviews were conducted in Turkish. The field research in Greece in February 2014 included nine high-profile politicians who represented political parties during the economic crisis. I spoke with ministers or parliamentarians from ND, PASOK, SYRIZA, the CP, and the Democratic Left. Among those I interviewed were Nikos Voutsis, former minister of interior and now Speaker of the Parliament; former minister of foreign affairs Dora Bakoyanni; former minister of economy Louka Katseli; former government spokesman Theodoros Roussopoulos; one of the founding members of PASOK, Konstantinos Skandalidis; and one of the most prominent members of the CP, Liana Kanelli. A former government advisor on the economy (from 2004 to 2008) and a parliament official who did not want to be named also participated in the research. Aside from politicians, the interviewees included six businesspeople who were in various leading positions in the SEV and EVEA. The remaining three interviewees were a renowned journalist, an academic who also served as the chairman of the National Bank of Greece and in state institutions, and the president of the Greek General Confederation of Labor, Yiannis Panagopoulos. Compared with the first three groups of interviews, those conducted in Greece in 2014 were the least structured (in terms of both the methods I used to get in touch with the respondents and the conversations we had once I met with them). For businesspeople who were on the board of directors of the SEV, I used the by-now-familiar tactic of producing a list of names of the Page 206 →board of directors via the Internet and calling the companies of the businesspeople for interviews. But I arranged to speak with most respondents through mutual friends or acquaintances. Most politicians were willing to speak on record, although some wanted to remain anonymous. Except for one respondent, all agreed to be tape-recorded. Most interviews were conducted in English. If the respondent was not fluent in English, a translator was available to help me communicate in Greek.

2004–5 Interview Questions for Turkish Businesspeople Year of Birth: Education:

Father’s Education: When did you have your first experience in business, in which company and what position? What is your relationship to the founder of the company you are currently working for? What is your current position in the company? How many people are employed in the company? How many people were employed between 1960 and 1980? What kind of business is your company engaged in? What was/is your father’s occupation? If your father owns/owned his business, how many people does /did he employ and when did he establish his business? How would you best identify your political views in the 1960s and 1970s? If you were eligible to vote, which party(ies) did you vote for in the national elections of the 1960s and 1970s? In the 1960s and 1970s, what did you think of the Republican People’s Party (led by Д°nГ¶nГј and Ecevit)? In the 1960s and 1970s, what did you think of the Justice Party (led by GГјmГјЕџpala and Demirel)? In the 1960s, what did you think of the Labor Party of Turkey? How did you define its ideology at the time? In the 1960s, did you feel that the TLP was dangerous to you, your business, or the country? In the 1970s, what did you think of the National Action Party (led by TГјrkeЕџ) and the National Salvation Party (led by Erbakan)? In the 1960s, did you feel that any of these parties were dangerous to you, your business, or the country? Page 207 →In the 1970s, did you think that Turkey’s regime might change? In the 1960s and 1970s, what did you think were the problems Turkey faced? When in 1971 the military intervened with a memorandum, how did you feel? Why? In your opinion, what were the positive and negative aspects of the 1971 memorandum? When in 1980 the military intervened in politics, how did you feel? Why? What did you think the positive and negative aspects of such an intervention were? How did you feel when the military made a transition to democracy in 1983? Which party did you vote for in the 1983 elections?

2004–5 Interview Questions for Retired Turkish Military Officers Name, Surname (Optional): Year of Birth: Father’s Education: Father’s Occupation: When did you first join the military? When did you retire from the military; what was your position when you retired? What was your rank in the military between 1960 and 1983? Can you describe from your point of view the reasons that led to the initiation of the 1971 coup? In the 1960s, how did you feel about the political parties (specifically the Republican People’s Party, the Justice Party, and the Labor Party of Turkey)? (If not already mentioned) In the 1960s, how did you feel about democracy? How did you feel when the 1971 coup was initiated? Why did you feel this way? Do you think that the rest of the military shared your feelings at the time? In your opinion, why did the military in 1971 decide not to close down the parliament and to rule on its own? What do you think the political parties of the time felt about the 1971 coup? Why? Page 208 →What do you think the society (especially the economic elites) felt about 1971? Why do you think the military agreed to hold new elections in 1973? Can you describe in your opinion the reasons that led to the initiation of the 1980 coup? In the 1970s, how did you feel about the political parties (specifically the Republican People’s Party, the Justice Party, the National Action Party, and the National Salvation Party)?

How did you feel when the 1980 coup was initiated? Why did you feel this way? Do you think that the rest of the military shared your feelings? (In case of need, ask directly) Do you think the military was unified in its support for the coup? In your opinion why do you think the military in 1980 closed down the parliament, ruled on its own, and changed the constitution? What do you think the political parties felt about the 1980 coup? Why? What do you think the society (especially the economic elites) felt about the 1980 coup? Why do you think the Turkish military did not establish an authoritarian regime in 1980?

2004–5 Interview Questions for Retired Leaders of Turkish Political Parties Name, Surname (Optional): In your opinion, what were the reasons for the 1971 military memorandum? If you opposed the 1971 memorandum at the time, can you explain to me why? Why did some of the smaller parties in the parliament support the 1971 memorandum? How do you think the Turkish people reacted to the 1971 memorandum? How did the military in general react to the 1971 memorandum? Do you think that the 1971 memorandum had a leftist or rightist ideology? Do you think that the 1971 memorandum was successful? Page 209 →Why do you think that the military in 1971 wrote a memorandum and allowed the parliament to function, rather than initiating an overt coup? According to your view, what were the reasons for the 1980 military intervention? If you opposed the 1980 coup, can you explain to me why? How do you think the Turkish people reacted to the 1980 military intervention? How did the military in general react to the 1980 intervention? Why do you think the 1980 military coup lasted only three years and made a transition to democracy in 1983?

2003–4 Interview Questions for Greek Businesspeople Year of Birth: Education: Father’s Education: When did you have your first experience in business? What is your relationship to the founder of the firm you are working for? What is your current position in the firm? How many people are employed in your firm? How many people were employed between 1960 and 1980? What kind of business is your firm engaged in? What was/is your father’s occupation? If your father owns/owned his business, how many people does /did he employ and when did he establish his business? In your professional capacity, how would you best identify your political views in the 1960s? (If he/she was too young, ask the question for his/her father.) If you were eligible to vote, which party(ies) did you vote for in elections of 1961, 1963, and 1964? If you were not eligible to vote, which party(ies) did your father vote for? In the 1960s, what did you think of the Center Union (led by Georgios Papandreou)? What did you think the ideology of the party was? (If he/she was too young, ask the question for his/her father.) In the 1960s, how did you feel about democracy? (If he/she was too young, ask the question for his/her father.) How did you feel when the colonels intervened in 1967? Why? (If Page 210 →he/she was too young, ask the question for his/her father.) During the authoritarian regime, there were credits made available for industrial and commercial investment. Did you make use of these credits? If not, why not? (If he/she was too young, ask the question

for his/her father.) How did you feel about the initiation of democracy in 1974? Why? (If he/she was too young, ask the question for his/her father.) If you were eligible to vote, which party(ies) did you vote for in the 1974 and 1977 elections? (If he/she answered the previous questions for his/her father, ask also which party(ies) did the father vote for.) Which party(ies) did you vote for in the elections of the 1980s? (If he/she answered the previous questions for his/her father, ask also which party(ies) did the father vote for.) In the 1980s, how did you define the ideology of PASOK (led by Andreas Papandreou)? (If he/she answered the previous questions for his/her father, ask the father’s opinion too.) How did you feel when PASOK won the elections in 1981? (If he/she answered the previous questions for his/her father, ask the father’s opinion too.) At the beginning of the 1980s, did you feel that PASOK was dangerous for your business? What type of regime did you prefer in the 1980s? Why?

2003–4 Interview Questions for Retired Greek Military Officers and Politicians Name, Surname (Optional): Year of Birth: Father’s Education: What was your father’s occupation? For officers: When did you first join the military? What was your rank in the military between 1967–1974? When did you retire from the military and what was your position when you retired? For politicians: Can you describe your political career a little? How did you define the ideology of Center Union (led by Georgios Papandreou) in the 1960s? What did you think of democracy in the 1960s? Can you describe from your point of view the events that led to the initiation of the regime in 1967? Page 211 →How did you feel when the 1967 regime was initiated? Why? Why do you think the 1967 regime fell in 1974? Do you think that the 1967 regime was supported by the society (especially the economic elites)? Why, why not? Do you think that the 1967 regime was supported by the rest of the military? Why, why not? How did you define the ideology of PASOK (led by Andreas Papandreou) in the 1980s? Do you think that there was a possibility for the military to intervene in politics after 1974? Why or why not?

2011 Interview Questions for Turkish Businesspeople, Academics, and Journalists Name, Surname: Education Level: Occupation: Age: City of Birth: How would you describe your ideological approach or your political views? I would like to ask you a couple of questions about your preferences in the elections: Which party did you vote for in the 2007 general elections? How did you vote in the 2010 referendum? Which party are you thinking of voting for in the 2011 elections? What do you think about the frequently discussed issues of tГјrban and headscarf in Turkey? What are your thoughts on the Kurdish issue? (Does such a question exist? If yes, what are the reasons for it? How can it be solved?) The Turkish nation is described as soldier-nation or army-nation. What is your point of view on this matter? How would you describe the role of the Turkish Armed Forces (TAF) in Turkey?

The TAF occasionally says that protecting and looking after the Republic and the principles of AtatГјrk are their duty. What do you think of this? How did you feel about the 28 February 1997 NSC decisions at the time? Page 212 →What do you think about the military’s involvement in political matters? If not in the answer: What do you think about coups d’état? There have been changes in civil-military relations since 2001. How do you evaluate these? If not in the answer: What do you think the reasons for these changes were? If not in the answer: What are the results of this process? What do you think of the latest court cases of Ergenekon and Balyoz? In your opinion is there is a tutelary system in Turkey? If not in the answer: Are there tutelages other than the military’s? What do you think of mandatory conscription? If not in the answer: What do you think of paid military service (bedelli askerlik)? What are your views on conscientious objection? How do you find Turkey’s military spending and budget when compared with other countries’? What are your expectations from the TAF?

2014 Interview Questions for Greek Politicians (Names of the political parties and some questions were adjusted according to the profile of the respondent.) Name, Surname: Year of Birth: Current Occupation: Past Occupations: Education: How would you best describe your own ideology? Can you tell me a little bit about your political career? According to you, what caused the current economic crisis in Greece? Several political parties increased their share of vote in the 2012 elections. How do you explain the rise of SYRIZA? Golden Dawn? Page 213 →What is the difference between your party’s ideology when compared with other parties, such as XXX (name the closest party in the left-right spectrum)? Why do you think old political parties, such as ND and PASOK, lost votes in the elections? In several other countries in Europe, the economic crisis was equally severe. But in countries like Spain and Portugal, we did not witness the change in party system and the rise of new parties. How can we explain the difference in Greece? What do you think about Greek democracy today? (Is the system functioning properly? Will it be able to cope with the crisis? Will it survive the crisis? Is democracy consolidated in Greece today?)

2014 Interview Questions for Greek Businesspeople Name, Surname: Year of Birth: Current Occupation: Past Occupations: Education: How would you best describe your political ideology? If you do not mind me asking, which party did you vote for in the 2012 general elections? Which parties did you vote for in the past (before the economic crisis)? According to you, what caused the current economic crisis in Greece? How was your business affected by the crisis?

What do you think about Greek democracy today? (Is it functioning properly? Will it be able to cope with the crisis? Will it survive the crisis?) What do you think of SYRIZA? What do you think of the Golden Dawn? (Respondents who were neither politicians nor businesspeople were asked a combination of the questions listed above.) Page 214 →

Profiles of the Greek Businesspeople Interviewed in 2003–4 Number of Respondents Year of Birth 1910–20 1921–30 1931–40 1941–50 1951–60 1961–70 1971–80 TOTAL Education High school Higher education (between high school and university) University Graduate school TOTAL

Percentage

3 6 13 10 12 5 1 50

6% 12% 26% 20% 24% 10% 2% 100%

11

22%

1

2%

18

36%

20

40%

50

100%

Father’s Education Primary school 1 High school 20 Higher education (between high 3 school and university) University 18 Graduate 1 school None 2 No response 5

2% 40%

6%

36% 2% 4% 10%

TOTAL

50

100%

Relationship to the Founder of the Company Himself/herself 12 24% Son/daughter 22 44% Third generation or 14 28% more Employee 2 4% TOTAL 50 Position in the Company Retired 16

100% 32%

President 30 60% /director Vice president 2 4% Page 215 2 4% →Other TOTAL 50 100% Number of Employees in the Company Today >5,000 3 6% 1,000–4,999 4 8% 500–999 4 8% 100–499 18 36% 10–99 11 22% Less than 10 2 4% Retired 8 16% TOTAL 50 100% Number of Employees in the Company in 1960s and 1970s >5,000 1 2% 1,000–4,999 9 18% 500–999 2 4% 100–499 8 16% 10–99 16 32% Less than 10 No response TOTAL Occupation Industrialist Merchant (commerce) Shipowner Construction Consultant Touristic shipowner

5 9 50

10% 18% 100%

31

62%

19

38%

5 2 2

10% 4% 4%

2

4%

Other (banker, forestry, 3 publisher) TOTAL 64 Father’s Occupation

6% (more than 50 because some businesspeople held more than one occupation)

Industrialist Merchant (commerce)

23

46%

16

32%

Shipowner Other No response

4 9 3

8% 18% 6%

TOTAL

55

(more than 50 because some businesspeople held more than one occupation)

Page 216 →

Profiles of the Turkish Businesspeople Interviewed in 2004–5 Number of Respondents Percentage Year of Birth 1910–20 1921–30 1931–40 1941–50 TOTAL Education Middle school High school University Graduate school TOTAL Father’s Education None Primary school Middle school High school University Graduate school No response TOTAL First Experience in Business Before 1940 1940–50 1951–60 1961–70 1971–80 TOTAL

4 21 11 14 50

8% 42% 22% 28% 100%

1 4 38 7 50

2% 8% 76% 14% 100%

2 6 6

4% 12% 12%

23 6 1 6 50

46% 12% 2% 12% 100%

1 16 16 13 4 50

2% 32% 32% 26% 8% 100%

Relationship to the Founder of the Company Himself/herself Son/daughter Brother/sister Grandchild

34 11 1 1

68% 22% 2% 2%

Employee TOTAL Position in the Company

3 50

6% 100%

Retired President

16 30

32% 60%

Member of the board of directors 3 Employee 1 TOTAL 50 Page 217 →Number of Employees in the Company Today >40,000 1 10,000–39,999 2 5,000–9,999 5 1,000–4,999 7 500–999 2 100–499 15 10–99 9 Less than 10 1 No company today 8 TOTAL 50 Number of Employees in the Company in the 1960s and 1970s 10,000–39,999 2 5,000–9,999 0 1,000–4,999 11 500–999 9 100–499 10 10–99 14 Less than 10 4

6% 2% 100%

TOTAL Occupation Holding / group of companies Industrialist Merchant (Commerce) Other TOTAL Father’s Occupation Holding / group of companies Industrialist Merchant (commerce) Bureaucrat / state officer

50

100%

16 27 3 6 50

32% 54% 6% 12% 100%

2 9 13 10

4% 18% 26% 20%

2% 4% 10% 14% 4% 30% 18% 2% 16% 100% 4% 0% 22% 18% 20% 28% 8%

Self-employed professional

4

8%

Farmer Other No response TOTAL

3 8 1 50

6% 16% 2% 100%

Page 218 →Page 219 →

Notes Chapter 1 1. Personal interview by the author, Athens, 3 September 2004. 2. Kenan Evren, Kenan Evren’in AnД±larД±, vol. 1 (Istanbul: Milliyet YayД±nlarД±, 1990), 546. 3. Theodore A. Couloumbis, A Professor’s Notes: The Greek Junta Phenomenon (New York: Pella Publishing, 2004), 27, 30. 4. Personal interview by the author, Ankara, 22 September 2005. Demirel’s party was banned and could not run in the 1983 elections. 5. On comparative historical analysis, see James Mahoney and Dietrich Rueschemeyer, eds., Comparative Historical Analysis in the Social Sciences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 6. More information on the field research can be found in the appendix. 7. One of the earliest categorizations of military interventions was done by Samuel Huntington, who attributed different kinds of military interventions to the level of socioeconomic development in a given country. According to him, in oligarchic societies, radical soldiers establish “breakthrough coups”; in middle-class societies, soldiers and their “moderator coups” are arbitrators between different social groups; and in mass societies, guardian soldiers stage “veto coups.” Similar assumptions were made by Samuel Finer, who argued that levels of intervention, ranging from “influence” to “supplantment,” depended on the levels of political culture. Both scholars, influenced by modernization theory, made valuable hypotheses; however, they did not systematically analyze their classifications by beefing them up with in-depth case studies. Moreover, they did not study military interventions from an objective point of view, and they showed tendencies to hail the ones that occurred in underdeveloped countries. Huntington, for instance, explicitly argued that “reform coups” were signs of progress and modernization. See Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968); Samuel P. Huntington, “Patterns of Violence in World Politics, ” in Changing Patterns of Military Politics, ed. Samuel Huntington (New York: Free Press, 1962), 17–50; S. E. Finer, The Man on Horseback: The Role of the Military in Politics (Boulder: Westview, 1988). Another modernization theorist who welcomed military interventions in developing nations is Lucian W. Pye; see his “Armies in the Process of Political Page 220 →Modernization,” in The Role of the Military in Underdeveloped Countries, ed. John J. Johnson (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962), 69–89. 8. Slightly different than categorizing military coups based on their duration, Eric Nordlinger and Alfred Stepan classified the roles of the militaries based on the extent of their power and their political and economic objectives. Although many scholars have readily applied their concepts to various countries, the reasons for the differences between “moderator,” “guardian,” or “ruler” militaries were not comparatively studied. See Eric Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics: Military Coups and Governments (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1977); Alfred Stepan, The Military in Politics: Changing Patterns in Brazil (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971). 9. This should not mean that earlier scholars did not deal with the question of civilian control of the armed forces. Indeed, Huntington and Janowitz pioneered this literature in the late 1950s and early 1960s. See Samuel Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1957); Morris Janowitz, The Professional Soldier: A Social and Political Portrait (New York: Free Press, 1960). 10. For examples of works that focus on the civilian control of the armed forces in new democracies, see Alfred Stepan, Rethinking Military Politics: Brazil and the Southern Cone (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988); Wendy Hunter, Eroding Military Influence in Brazil: Politicians against Soldiers (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997); David Pion-Berlin, ed., Civil-Military Relations in Latin America: New Analytical Perspectives (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001); Thomas C. Bruneau and Scott D. Tollefson, eds., Who Guards the Guardians and How? Democratic Civil-Military

Relations (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006); Zoltan Barany, The Soldier and the Changing State: Building Democratic Armies in Africa, Asia, Europe, and the Americas (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012). 11. Samuel Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991); JosГ© M. Magone, The Politics of Southern Europe: Integration into the European Union (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2003), 8–10. 12. On selection bias, see Gary King, Robert O. Keohane, and Sidney Verba, Designing Social Inquiry: Scientific Inference in Qualitative Research (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 129–32. 13. For examples, see the following volumes: Guillermo O’Donnell, Philippe C. Schmitter, and Laurance Whitehead, eds., Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Southern Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986); Geoffrey Pridham, ed., Securing Democracy: Political Parties and Regime Consolidation in Southern Europe (London: Routledge, 1990); John Higley and Richard Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation in Latin America and Southern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992); Richard Gunther, P. Nikiforos Diamandouros, and Hans-JГјrgen Puhle, eds., The Politics of Democratic Consolidation: Southern Europe in Comparative Perspective (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995); Leonardo Morlino, Democracy between Consolidation and Crisis: Parties, Groups, and Citizens in Southern Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 14. For examples of transition studies, see Guillermo O’Donnell and Philippe C. Schmitter, Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Tentative Conclusions from Uncertain Democracies (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986); Terry Lynn Karl, “DilemmasPage 221 → of Democratization in Latin America, ” Comparative Politics 23 (1990): 1–21; Giuseppe Di Palma, To Craft Democracies: An Essay on Democratic Transition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990); Adam Przeworski, Democracy and the Market: Political and Economic Reforms in Eastern Europe and Latin America (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991). For critiques of this literature’s focus on elite pacts and ignoring lower-class movements, see Sidney Tarrow, “Mass Mobilization and Regime Change: Pacts, Reform, and Popular Power in Italy (1918–1922) and Spain (1975–1978),” in Gunther, Diamandouros, and Puhle, Politics of Democratic Consolidation, 204–30; Ruth Berins Collier, Paths toward Democracy: The Working Class and Elites in Western Europe and South America (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); Valerie Bunce, “Rethinking Democratization: Lessons from the Postcommunist Experience,” World Politics 55 (2003): 170–89; Rebecca L. Schiff, The Military and Domestic Politics: A Concordance Theory of Civil-Military Relations (London: Routledge, 2009). 15. On the methods of agreement and difference, see Arend Lijphart, “Comparative Politics and the Comparative Method,” American Political Science Review 65 (1971): 687–90. 16. For examples, see O’Donnell, Schmitter, and Whitehead, Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Southern Europe; Geoffrey Pridham, ed., Encouraging Democracy: The International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (London: Leicester University Press, 1991); Gerassimos Karabelias, O Rolos ton Enoplon Dynameon sten Politike Zoe tes Tourkias kai tes Elladas: Syngritike Analyse ton Metapolemikon Stratiotikon Epemvaseon 1945–1980 (Athens: Ellenika Grammata, 2001); Hakan YД±lmaz, “External-Internal Linkages in Democratization: Developing an Open Model of Democratic Change,” Democratization 9 (2002): 67–84; Gerassimos Karabelias, “A Brief Overview of the Evolution of Civil-Military Relations in Albania, Greece, and Turkey during the Post-WWII Period,” Journal of Political and Military Sociology 31 (2003): 57–70; Г–zkan Duman and Dimitris Tsarouhas, “вЂCivilianization’ in Greece versus вЂDemilitarization’ in Turkey: A Comparative Study of Civil-Military Relations and the Impact of the European Union,” Armed Forces and Society 32 (2006): 405–23; Lauren M. McLaren, Constructing Democracy in Southern Europe: A Comparative Analysis of Italy, Spain, and Turkey (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2008); Ioannis Tzortzis, “Parallel Lives? The Greek and Turkish Dictatorship’s Self-Transformation Stories,” Turkish Studies 17 (2016): 317–35. 17. Some authors of single-country studies situate their approach in the broader literature on regime change and indirectly compare Turkey with other cases. See, for examples, Ergun Г–zbudun, Contemporary Turkish Politics: Challenges to Democratic Consolidation (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2000); Д°lter Turan, Turkey’s Difficult Journey to Democracy: Two Steps Forward and One Step Back (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).

18. For some examples, see Ellis Goldberg, Joel S. Migdal, and Resat Kasaba, eds., Rules and Rights in the Middle East: Democracy, Law, and Society (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1993); Nathan J. Brown and Emad El-Din Shahin, eds., The Struggle of Democracy in the Middle East (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2010); Katerina Dalacoura, Islamist Terrorism and Democracy in the Middle East (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Zoya Hasan, ed., Democracy in Muslim Societies: The Asian Experience (New Delhi: Sage, 2007); Paul Kubicek, Political Islam and Democracy in the Muslim World (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2015). 19. For examples of works that focus on the similarities between the two countries on Page 222 →these issues, see Faruk Birtek and Thalia Dragonas, eds., Citizenship and the Nation-State in Greece and Turkey (London: Routledge, 2005); Anna Frangoudaki and Г‡aДџlar Keyder, eds., Ways to Modernity in Greece and Turkey: Encounters with Europe, 1850–1950 (London: I. B. Tauris, 2007); Umut Г–zkД±rД±mlД± and Spyros A. Sofos, Tormented by History: Nationalism in Greece and Turkey (New York: Colombia University Press, 2008); Ioannis N. Grigoriadis, Instilling Religion in Greek and Turkish Nationalism: A “Sacred Synthesis” (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013); Hercules Millas, Nations and Identities: The Case of Greeks and Turks (Istanbul: Istanbul Bilgi University Press, 2016); BГјlent GГ¶kay and Lily Hamourtziadou, “вЂWhiter than White’: Race and Otherness in Turkish and Greek National Identities,” Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern Studies 18 (2016): 177–89. 20. Juan J. Linz, “Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes,” in Handbook of Political Science, vol. 3, Macropolitical Theory, ed. Fred I. Greenstein and Nelson W. Polsby (Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1975), 182–83; Phillipe C. Schmitter and Terry Lynn Karl, “What Democracy IsВ .В .В . and Is Not, ” Journal of Democracy 2 (1991): 76–82. This definition is very similar to Robert Dahl’s institutional requirements for a polyarchy: see his Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1971), 3. 21. Przeworski, Democracy and the Market, 26. 22. Richard Gunther, P. Nikiforos Diamandouros, and Hans-JГјrgen Puhle, introduction to Politics of Democratic Consolidation, 7. See also Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), 5–7. 23. Samuel Valenzuela, “Democratic Consolidation in Post-Transitional Settings: Notion, Process, and Facilitating Conditions,” in Issues in Democratic Consolidation: The New South American Democracies in Comparative Perspective, ed. Scott Mainwaring, Guillermo O’Donnell, and Samuel Valenzuela (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992), 99 note 28. 24. Fareed Zakaria, “The Rise of Illiberal Democracy,” Foreign Affairs 76 (1997): 22–43; David Waldner, “Policy History: Regimes,” in International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences, ed. Neil J. Smelser and Paul B. Baltes (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science, 2001), 11549. 25. Guillermo O’Donnell, “Delegative Democracy,” Journal of Democracy 5 (1994): 55–69. 26. Larry Diamond, Developing Democracy: Toward Consolidation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), 8–13. 27. Political prerogatives are different from professional prerogatives that pertain to the autonomy of the military as an institution from civilian influence. Professional prerogatives or autonomy are not necessarily harmful to democratic consolidation. See David Pion-Berlin, “Military Autonomy and Emerging Democracies in South America,” Comparative Politics 25 (1992): 83–102. 28. Valenzuela, “Democratic Consolidation in Post-Transitional Settings,” 62–65. 29. Acemoglu and Robinson use this criterion to differentiate between consolidated, unconsolidated, and semiconsolidated democracies. Fully consolidated democracies do not have threats of coups, unconsolidated democracies “fall prey to coups,” and semiconsolidated countries “live under the shadow of a coup.” Coup prospects affect regime durability and, hence, the consolidation of the regime, which is defined in terms of the endurance of democratic institutions through time. See Daron Acemoglu and James A. Page 223 →Robinson, Economic Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 222. 30. Even though sometimes military officers invite civilians to help them govern, soldiers are still the ultimate power holders. 31. For a useful definition, see Linz, “Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes,” 264.

32. Ibid., 271–74. For the distinction between authoritarian and fascist regimes during the interwar period, see Michael Mann, Fascists (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 43–48. Greece and Turkey did not have fascist/totalitarian regimes. 33. Barbara Geddes, “What Do We Know About Democratization after Twenty Years?,” Annual Review of Political Science 2 (1999): 121–22. 34. Although the term consolidated authoritarian regime is not used systematically in the literature, Freedom House’s democracy scores include the category of consolidated authoritarian regimes, which denotes the lowest possible democracy score a country can get. See http://www.freedomhouse.org/ 35. Przeworski, Democracy and the Market, 54. 36. Gunther, Diamandouros, and Puhle use a similar criterion (“the absence of an antisystem party or movement”) as an indicator in democracies; see their introduction to Politics of Democratic Consolidation, 13 (emphasis added). Admittedly, using overt action as an indicator of unconsolidated authoritarianism is risky. Passive or low-profile forms of resistance (e.g., anonymous attacks or threats to public figures) or the use of hidden transcripts (the disguised discourses voiced among peers in private conversations) may also be important indicators. However, since there is not enough documentation, measuring this form of protest is difficult for the authoritarian regimes. As a result, only observable public forms of resistance are taken into account in this study, in order to avoid mistaking no evidence with actual compliance with the regime. On passive resistance, see James Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990). 37. Sidney Tarrow, Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 3. 38. Charles Tilly, “Social Movements as Historically Specific Clusters of Political Performances,” Berkeley Journal of Sociology 38 (1994): 7, quoted in Marco G. Giugni, “Introduction: Social Movements and Change; Incorporation, Transformation, and Democratization,” in From Contention to Democracy, ed. Marco G. Giugni, Doug McAdam, and Charles Tilly (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998), xiii. 39. The table has some years missing between the regimes because I focus mainly on the causes of regime types and their consolidation rather than on transition periods. As I explain in chapter 6, Turkey is in such transition from an unconsolidated democracy to authoritarianism now (and hence the period of unconsolidated democracy ends in 2013). Also note that as the above discussion on definitions of consolidation suggests, the durations of the regimes were not necessarily determined by their consolidation. For instance, the Metaxas authoritarian regime was consolidated but lasted only a few years, and Turkey had an unconsolidated democratic regime that survived more than several decades. 40. For stylistic reasons, I use the terms military, soldiers, and armed forces interchangeably to denote the army, navy, and air force together. When the army is referred to alone (without the navy and air force), I use the term army. 41. For the argument that militaries unchangeably prefer authoritarianism, see Edward Shils, “The Military in the Political Development of the New States,” in Johnson, Page 224 →Role of the Military, 7–69; Morris Janowitz, “Armed Forces and Society: A World Perspective,” in Armed Forces and Society: Sociological Essays, ed. Jacques van Doorn (The Hague, Netherlands: Mouton, 1968), 15–39. For a summary of these arguments, see Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 53–61. Empirical evidence, however, does not support the hypothesis that officers enjoy being in power. In fact, according to a study in 1999, the average length of rule for military regimes was 8.8 years, significantly lower than the average for personal or single-party regimes. See Geddes, “What Do We Know about Democratization?,” 133. 42. Two possible explanations exist in the literature to support the argument that militaries are inherently pro-democratic. The first argues that the political value of civic obedience keeps the military from establishing authoritarian regimes, and the second contends that militaries prefer to establish democratic regimes after an intervention because dictators are more likely to challenge the corporate interests of the armed forces. The first claim cannot explain the interventionist attitudes of the militaries, and the second argument assumes that the dictators are not military officers, which they frequently were in the countries examined in this book. For the first type of argument, see Huntington, Soldier and the State, 71–74; Finer, Man on Horseback, 22–26. For the second type, see Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 200–203. 43. Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 66–71.

44. Huntington, Soldier and the State, 64–70 (quote from 65). 45. Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 47–49. 46. Ibid., 71. For the difference between professional and political autonomy, see note 27 above. 47. Instead of calling this group of people “the bourgeoisie,” I refer to them with the term business, because the business elites were not a hegemonic class that could overthrow a regime or initiate a military intervention completely on their own in Greece and Turkey, as the classic Marxist sense of the term bourgeoisie implies. 48. The literature has persistently showed that a dominant landowning class is an impediment to democracy. The socioeconomic structure of Greece and Turkey, with no big landowning class, partially explains the relatively early transition to democracy (albeit unconsolidated) in both countries. For the same argument on Greece, see Stathis N. Kalyvas, Modern Greece: What Everyone Needs to Know (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 50–52. 49. ErtuДџrul Tokdemir, TГјrkiye’de TarД±msal YapД± (1923–1933) (Istanbul: Teknik Гњniversite, 1988), 43–44. 50. Nicos P. Mouzelis, Politics in the Semi-Periphery: Early Parliamentarism and Late Industrialisation in the Balkans and Latin America (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1986), 39–40. 51. For more information on the collective action problem, see Mancur Olson, The Logic of Collective Action: Public Goods and the Theory of Groups (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1965). 52. Alexander Gerschenkron, Economic Backwardness in Historical Perspective (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962). See also Eva Bellin, “Contingent Democrats: Industrialists, Labor, and Democratization in Late-Developing Countries,” World Politics 52 (2000): 182. 53. Leigh A. Payne, Brazilian Industrialists and Democratic Change (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 8. Page 225 → 54. Ibid., 6. 55. Ibid., 10–11; Dietrich Rueschemeyer, Evelyne Huber Stephens, and John Stephens, Capitalist Development and Democracy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 6. 56. Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993); Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development and Democracy. See also Acemoglu and Robinson, Economic Origins, 32–33. 57. Guillermo O’Donnell, Modernization and Bureaucratic Authoritarianism (Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, 1973). 58. Bellin, “Contingent Democrats,” 178–79. 59. Payne, Brazilian Industrialists and Democratic Change, 1–15. 60. Ibid., 11. 61. For a similar conceptualization, see Barbara Geddes, Politicians Dilemma: Building State Capacity in Latin America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 12. The unifying characteristic of these groups is that they engage in one similar activity: governing the country and producing policies. Within this category, it is possible for people to shift from one group to another. For instance, legislators become political party leaders and presidents; civil bureaucrats become legislators, party leaders, and even presidents; and so on. 62. Anthony Downs, An Economic Theory of Democracy (New York: HarperCollins, 1957), 28. 63. Geddes, Politician’s Dilemma, 12–13. 64. Downs, Economic Theory of Democracy, 51–74. 65. Ibid., 95. 66. Studying politicians as a distinct group is also important because they sometimes represented the demands of the business elites when the latter did not seem to take any action. As explained above, economic elites usually met with politicians in private. This makes it difficult to trace their exact behaviors. However, when a group of politicians is known to represent business, the preferences of the latter groups could be gathered from the actions of the former. In other words, it is easier to collect empirical information on the politicians—especially as one goes further back in history. This is why it is valuable to investigate their actions even when they are not autonomous from the business elites.

Chapter 2 1. Robert Dahl, Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1971), 14–16, 48–49 (quote from 16). 2. Ibid., 16. 3. Only a few works will be examined in detail here. Transition studies, described in the previous chapter and cited there in note 14, have also borrowed from Dahl in important respects, since they focus on the costbenefit analysis of the actors and their strategic calculations when negotiating for regime outcomes. Also Samuel Finer’s concepts of “disposition” and “opportunity” to intervene are similar to the costs of toleration and costs of suppression, respectively. S. E. Finer, The Man on Horseback: The Role of the Military in Politics (Boulder: Westview, 1988), 20–76. 4. For the classic text of the theory, see Seymour Martin Lipset, “Some Social RequisitesPage 226 → of Democracy: Economic Development and Political Legitimacy,” American Political Science Review 53 (1959): 69–105. For a revised version, see Larry Diamond, “Economic Development and Democracy Reconsidered,” American Behavioral Scientist 35 (1992): 450–99. 5. Guillermo O’Donnell, Modernization and Bureaucratic Authoritarianism (Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, 1973), 89–90. 6. Ibid., 70–79. 7. Dietrich Rueschemeyer, Evelyne Huber Stephens, and John Stephens, Capitalist Development and Democracy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). 8. Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World (Boston: Beacon, 1966). 9. Gregory M. Luebbert, Liberalism, Fascism, or Social Democracy: Social Classes and the Political Origins of Regimes in Interwar Europe (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991). 10. However, this “relative class power model of democratization has to be modified” by recognizing the necessity of partial state autonomy from the dominant classes. See Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development and Democracy, 63–66. 11. The authors mentioned that the perception of threat might diminish if a strong party integrated the workers into the political system and/or if a conservative party existed to protect the interests of the dominant classes. However, they also argued that these factors determined the balance of class power and the costs of suppression. While populist parties effectively diminished the power of the workers as an independent class (as did the Institutional Revolutionary Party in Mexico or Peronism in Argentina), conservative parties increased the power of the dominant classes. See ibid., 282–83, 287–88. 12. Gerard Alexander, The Sources of Democratic Consolidation (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2002), 248. 13. Ibid., 70–78. 14. Carles Boix, Democracy and Redistribution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 15. Although Acemoglu and Robinson refer to the “costs of repression” throughout their book, they do not refer to the “costs of toleration.” Indeed, that this aspect is played down almost gives the impression that it does not matter. However, it is clear that the consequences of inequality in society and the prospects of wealth redistribution are similar to the determinants of costs of toleration (i.e., higher perceptions of threat to elite interests), thus making the latter a function of the former. 16. Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson, Economic Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 45. 17. Ibid., 86. 18. See especially Dahl, Polyarchy, 62–104. 19. O’Donnell, Bureaucratic Authoritarianism, 154–65. 20. Ibid., 155–56 note 83. 21. Charles Tilly, “Democracy Is a Lake,” in The Social Construction of Democracy, 1870–1990, ed. George Reid Andrews and Herrick Chapman (New York: New York University Press, 1995), 382. 22. Boix, Democracy and Redistribution, 16. 23. Acemoglu and Robinson, Economic Origins, 224. Page 227 → 24. Ibid., 355–56.

25. Dahl, Polyarchy, 50. In his book On Democracy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), Dahl argues that “control of military and police by elected officials” is one of the essential conditions of democracy, but he does not answer “why civilian control has developed in some countries and not in others” (149). 26. For instance, a volume edited by Christopher Clapham and George Philip, The Political Dilemmas of Military Regimes (London: Croom Helm, 1985), brings together Samuel Huntington’s classifications of “breakthrough,” “moderator,” and “veto” coups with levels of threat (without any explicit reference 93"doc-endnote">27. Richard Lachmann, “Agents of Revolution: Elite Conflicts and Mass Mobilization from the Medici to Yeltsin,” in Theorizing Revolutions, ed. John Foran (London: Routledge, 1997), 74. 28. Dahl, Polyarchy, 48–49. 29. The Turkish coup of 1980 is a hybrid case. There were subordinate class movements during the years that preceded the coup, but the political parties and the parliament were blamed for the escalation of violence. In other words, the source of the threat was both the elites and the lower classes. The end result of the coup was a hybrid as well. Even though the military did not establish an authoritarian regime, the coup was significantly more authoritarian and lasted longer than other short-lived military interventions in Greece and Turkey. During the interim, all political activity was repressed, and every political party was banned. During the transition to democracy in 1983, the military restricted freedoms to a degree unmatched by the previous coup periods. For more details on this coup, see the case study in chapter 4. Note that figure 2.10 depicts not all of the military coups in Greece and Turkey but only the ones studied in detail in this book. 30. The militaries viewed their corporate interests as closely tied with the political and economic situation of the nation and regarded their own existence as the articulation of the national interest. This is why militaries have usually intervened during times of national crises and why they have justified their interventions in terms of national interest. 31. Eric Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics: Military Coups and Governments (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1977), 85–95. On corporate interests leading to coups, see also William R. Thompson, The Grievances of Military Coup-Makers (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1973). 32. For examples of this argument, see Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968), 198–263; Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 82–85; JosГ© Nun, “The Middle-Class Coup Revisited,” in Armies and Politics in Latin America, ed. Abraham F. Lowenthal and J. Samuel Fitch (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1986), 59–95. 33. Abraham Lowenthal, “Armies and Politics in Latin America: Introduction to the First Edition,” in Lowenthal and Fitch, Armies and Politics in Latin America, 14–15. 34. There are obviously major exceptions to this orientation of the armed forces. The case of the Russian army during the First World War is a good reminder that the military can be revolutionary and leftist. However, these cases are outside of the scope of this book. Moreover, as Bengt Abrahamson notes in Military Professionalization and Political Power (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1972), “Once the revolutionary struggle is over and the period of consolidation sets in, armies tend to acquire the role of supporters of status Page 228 →quo” (107). Thus the military will be conservative once again. See also Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies, 198–208. 35. Alfred Vagts, A History of Militarism (New York: Hollis and Carter, 1959), 30, quoted in Abrahamsson, Military Professionalization and Political Power, 106. 36. The Turkish military is not conservative rightist in the European sense. For instance, until the 1980s, it favored a planned economy (a center-leftist ideology close to the Republican People’s Party) but not political Islam (a conservative rightist outlook). However, the revolutionary phase of the Turkish military and its anti-oligarchic stance is considered to start with the 1908 Center of Union and Progress coup in the Ottoman Empire. Since the mid-1920s (during the period this book covers), the Turkish military safeguards the political order in which it grew and supports the mainstream Kemalist ideology of the state. See Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies, 258. 37. Leigh A. Payne, Brazilian Industrialists and Democratic Change (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994); Eva Bellin, “Contingent Democrats: Industrialists, Labor, and Democratization in LateDeveloping Countries,” World Politics 52 (2000): 175–205. 38. G. Alexander, Sources of Democratic Consolidation, 33–40.

39. The distinction between mainstream and mass-mobilizing radical parties resembles Martin Shefter’s distinction between internally mobilized and externally mobilized parties, respectively. See his Political Parties and the State: The American Historical Experience (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994). 40. For Turkey during the Democratic Party period, see David Waldner, State Building and Late Development (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999), 60–66; Sabri SayarД± “Political Patronage in Turkey,” in Patrons and Clients in Mediterranean Societies, ed. Ernest Gellner and James Waterbury (London: Duckworth, 1977), 103–13. For Greece, see Nicos P. Mouzelis, Politics in the Semi-Periphery: Early Parliamentarism and Late Industrialisation in the Balkans and Latin America (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1986), 43–48. Mouzelis writes that, contrary to populism, incorporation via clientelism “safeguards the status quo against any serious threat from below” (77). 41. G. Alexander, Sources of Democratic Consolidation, 66–67. 42. Ibid., 68. 43. For example, Richard Gunther and John Higley, preface to Elites and Democratic Consolidation: Latin America and Southern Europe, ed. John Higley and Richard Gunther (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), xi. 44. Michael Burton, Richard Gunther, and John Higley, “Introduction: Elite Transformations and Democratic Regimes,” in Higley and Gunther, Elites and Democratic Consolidation, 30–31. 45. For the sources from which this list was compiled, see Henry Bienen, introduction to The Military Intervenes: Case Studies in Political Development, ed. Henry Bienen (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1968), xvi–xvii; Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 140–47; Constantine P. Danopoulos, “Military Dictatorships in Retreat,” in The Decline of Military Regimes: The Civilian Influence, ed. Constantine P. Danopoulos (Boulder: Westview, 1988), 11, 17–18. These risks may also lead militaries to voluntarily disengage from politics after an intervention. 46. Felipe AgГјero, Soldiers, Civilians, and Democracy: Post-Franco Spain in Comparative Perspective (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995), 5. 47. Alfred Stepan, “State Power and the Strength of Civil Society in the Southern Page 229 →Cone of Latin America,” in Bringing the State Back In, ed. Peter Evans, Dietrich Rueschemeyer, and Theda Skocpol (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 318. Stepan argues that there are also two other possibilities: the powers of the civil society and state might stagnate at the same time (as in Uruguay between 1978 and 1981), or the powers of both might grow (as in Brazil in 1970–81). 48. Joel S. Migdal, Strong Societies and Weak States: State-Society Relations and State Capabilities in the Third World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), 269–71. 49. The notable families that controlled politics were called the tzakia. See Constantine Tsoucalas, “On the Problem of Political Clientelism in Greece in the Nineteenth Century,” part 1, trans. Kali Laverdos and Phyllis R. Craig, Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 5 (1978): 5–17. 50. Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Effects of the Population Exchange on the Greek and Turkish Political Regimes in the 1930s,” East European Quarterly 42 (2008): 96–102. 51. According to Migdal (Strong Societies, 273–74), external military threat is a sufficient condition for strong states. 52. Charles Tilly, Coercion, Capital, and European States, AD 990–1992 (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1992), 220. See also Lisa Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa,” Comparative Politics 20 (1987): 1–18. 53. For other consequences of American military assistance, see Bienen, introduction to Military Intervenes, xvii–xx; Alain RouquiГ©, Latin Amerika’da Askeri Devlet, trans. Ећirin Tekeli (Istanbul: Alan YayД±ncД±lД±k, 1986), 128–63. 54. On coup planning and execution, see Edward Luttwak, Coup d’État: A Practical Handbook (Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1969). 55. Karen Remmer, Military Rule in Latin America (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989), 29. 56. According to Rueschemeyer, Huber Stephens, and Stephens (Capitalist Development and Democracy, 59), working classes are too weak to initiate democratization on their own and therefore need to form alliances with the middle or business classes. 57. For examples of how the nature of the outgoing regime and the way it collapsed influenced the power of

the military in the subsequent years and during the phase of democratic consolidation, see Alfred Stepan, “Paths toward Redemocratization: Theoretical and Comparative Considerations,” in Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Comparative Perspectives, ed. Guillermo O’Donnell, Philippe C. Schmitter, and Laurence Whitehead (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), 64–84; Samuel Valenzuela, “Democratic Consolidation in Post-Transitional Settings,” and Scott Mainwaring, “Transitions to Democracy and Democratic Consolidation: Theoretical and Comparative Issues,” in Issues in Democratic Consolidation: The New South American Democracies in Comparative Perspective, ed. Scott Mainwaring, Guillermo O’Donnell, and Samuel Valenzuela (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992), 57–104, 294–341; Felipe AgГјero, “Democratic Consolidation and the Military in Southern Europe and South America,” in The Politics of Democratic Consolidation: Southern Europe in Comparative Perspective, ed. Richard Gunther, P. Nikiforos Diamandouros, and Hans-JГјrgen Puhle (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995), 124–65. 58. Susannah Verney, “To Be or Not to Be within the European Community: The Party Debate and Democratic Consolidation in Greece,” in Securing Democracy: Political Parties and Regime Consolidation in Southern Europe, ed. Geoffrey Pridham (London: Routledge, 1990), 203–23; Takis S. Pappas, Populism and Crisis Politics in Greece (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 13–20. Page 230 → 59. Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Impact of EU-Driven Reforms on the Political Autonomy of the Turkish Military,” South European Society and Politics 16 (2011): 293–308; Д°lter Turan and Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Role of the EU in Changing the Role of the Military in Turkish Politics,” European Review of International Studies 1 (2014): 132–40. 60. Tanja A. BГ¶rzel and Thomas Risse, “From Europeanization to Diffusion: Introduction,” West European Politics 35 (2012): 12–13. 61. Frank Schimmelfenning and Ulrich Sedelmeier, “Governance by Conditionality: EU Rule Transfer to the Candidate Countries of Central and Eastern Europe,” Journal of European Public Policy 11 (2004): 661–79. 62. Milada Anna Vachudova, Europe Undivided: Democracy, Leverage, and Integration (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). 63. Schimmelfenning and Sedelmeier, “Governance by Conditionality,” 670; BГ¶rzel and Risse, “From Europeanization to Diffusion,” 11. 64. This type of instrumentalization of the EU, leading to “differential empowerment,” is neither unique to Turkey nor confined only to civil-military relations. For similar trends in the Western Balkans and the rule of law reforms, see Gergana Noutcheva and Senem AydД±n-DГјzgit, “Lost in Europeanization: The Western Balkans and Turkey,” West European Politics 35 (2012): 59–78. 65. Ulrich Sedelmeier, “Anchoring Democracy from Above? The European Union and Democratic Backsliding in Hungary and Romania after Accession,” Journal of Common Market Studies 52 (2014): 105–21; Agnes Batory, “Populists in Government? Hungary’s вЂSystem of National Cooperation,’” Democratization 23 (2016): 283–303. 66. Coalitions do not necessarily bring together groups that share the same ideology or the exact same interests. For a definition of coalitions, see Deborah Yashar, Demanding Democracy: Reform and Reaction in Costa Rica and Guatemala, 1870s–1950s (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997), 15. 67. Barbara Geddes, “What Do We Know about Democratization after Twenty Years?” Annual Review of Political Science 2 (1999): 126–27. 68. Ibid., 128; Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics, 103. Singh argues that signaling from the putschists themselves, in the form of appearing to be successful in the initial hours of the coup, also leads neutral officers to jump on the bandwagon. See Naunihal Singh, Seizing Power: The Strategic Logic of Military Coups (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2014). 69. For the effects of military unity on the success of military interventions, see William R. Thompson, “Organizational Cohesion and Military Coup Outcomes,” Comparative Political Studies 34 (1976): 255–76; Steven Barracca, “Military Coups in the Post–Cold War Era: Pakistan, Ecuador, and Venezuela,” Third World Quarterly 28 (2007): 137–54. 70. Even though it seems that elites who do not support authoritarianism must support democracy, this was not always the case. The Metaxas regime in Greece is a case in point. Some of the political elites opposed Metaxas’s rule and appealed to the king to oust him from power and replace him. Thus, some

politicians opposed a particular authoritarian regime without preferring democracy. But this kind of opposition did not translate into an unconsolidated authoritarian regime. Quite to the contrary, their generally pro-authoritarian attitudes translated into a consolidated regime. 71. Theda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions: A Comparative Analysis of France, Russia, and China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979). See also Charles Page 231 →Tilly, From Mobilization to Revolution (Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1978); Doug McAdam, Political Process and the Development of Black Insurgency, 1930–1970 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982). 72. Sidney Tarrow, Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 77. See also Jack A. Goldstone, “Social Movements or Revolutions? On the Evolution and Outcomes of Collective Action,” in From Contention to Democracy, ed. Marco G. Giugni, Doug McAdam, and Charles Tilly (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998), 140–42. 73. Lachmann, “Agents of Revolution,” 93. 74. Adam Przeworski, Democracy and the Market: Political and Economic Reforms in Eastern Europe and Latin America (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 59. 75. In other cases, such as Argentina between 1976 and 1983, these factors led to partial success in “designing a new institional order” and to failures in establishing “a stable form of rule” and in consolidating power. See Gerardo L. Munck, Authoritarianism and Democratization: Soldiers and Workers in Argentina, 1976–1983 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998). 76. Guillermo O’Donnell and Philippe C. Schmitter, Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), 26, 48–56; Przeworski, Democracy and the Market, 58–64. 77. This is why securing the corporate interests of the military helps “coup-proof” a regime. In particular, allocating a bigger budget to the armed forces decreases incentives to intervene and increases coup failure, by leading to disputes among officers. See Jonathan Powell, “Determinants of the Attempting and Outcome of Coups d’État,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 56 (2012): 1017–40. 78. Felipe AgГјero, Soldiers, Civilians, and Democracy, 11. High costs of suppression are a necessary condition for democratic consolidation, because democratic consolidation is absent whenever costs of suppression are low. Yet democratic consolidation is not always present when costs of suppression are high: in unconsolidated democracies and unconsolidated authoritarian regimes, too, the costs of suppression may be high. High costs of suppression (for the military) are not, however, sufficient for democratic consolidation, as the situation of Turkey in the 2000s demonstrates. 79. See especially AgГјero, Soldiers, Civilians, and Democracy, 28–33. 80. David Pion-Berlin, “Military Autonomy and Emerging Democracies in South America,” Comparative Politics 25 (1992): 98. 81. Wendy Hunter, “Politicians against Soldiers: Contesting the Military in Postauthorization Brazil, ” Comparative Politics 27 (1995): 425–43. See also Wendy Hunter, Eroding Military Influence in Brazil: Politicians against Soldiers (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997), on the critical role that popular support for politicians can have toward eradicating the prerogatives of the military. 82. Juan J. Linz, Alfred Stepan, and Richard Gunther, “Democratic Transition and Consolidation in Southern Europe, with Reflections on Latin America and Eastern Europe,” in Gunther, Diamandouros, and Puhle, Politics of Democratic Consolidation, 86. 83. See, for instance, Higley and Gunther, Elites and Democratic Consolidation. 84. For a similar argument on how the reduction of threat weakens the hands of the military, see Hunter, “Politicians against Soldiers,” 430–31. 85. A failed coup attempt may lead to democratic consolidation if the military is cleansed of anti-democrats in the coup’s aftermath and/or if the officers change their Page 232 →preferences. In other words, failed coups can exist in “consolidating” cases. Greek coup attempts in the early 1980s (similar to the attempt in Spain in 1981) are examples. Historically speaking, however, most failed coups did not have the same effect and did not lead to democratic consolidation. 86. Geddes, “What Do We Know about Democratization?,” 131.

Chapter 3 1. For an account of the war, see David Brewer, The Flame of Freedom: The Greek War of Independence, 1821–1833 (London: John Murray, 2001). 2. John Anthony Petropoulos, Politics and Statecraft in the Kingdom of Greece, 1833–1843 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968), 24–35. 3. Keith R. Legg, Politics in Modern Greece (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1969), 47–48; Douglas Dakin, “The Formation of the Greek State, 1821–1833,” in The Struggle for Greek Independence: Essays to Mark the 150th Anniversary of the Greek War of Independence, ed. Richard Clogg (London: Macmillan, 1973), 178 note 2, 158; William McGrew, Land and Revolution in Modern Greece, 1800–1881: The Transition in the Tenure and Exploitation of Land from Ottoman Rule to Independence (Kent: Kent State University Press, 1985), 36–39. 4. Richard Clogg, “The Greek Mercantile Bourgeoisie: вЂProgressive’ or вЂReactionary’?, ” in Balkan Society in the Age of Greek Independence, ed. Richard Clogg (London: Macmillan, 1981), 85–110. 5. Stathis N. Kalyvas, Modern Greece: What Everyone Needs to Know (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 37–40. 6. Thanos Veremis, The Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy (London: Hurst, 1997), 12–38. 7. Richard Clogg, Parties and Elections in Greece: The Search for Legitimacy (London: C. Hurst, 1987), 1. 8. Ibid., 3. For more information on the army’s involvement in the reforms in 1843 and 1862, see S. Victor Papacosma, The Military in Greek Politics: The 1909 Coup d’Etat (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 1977), 2–8. 9. Kostas Kostis, “The Formation of the State in Greece, 1830–1914,” in Disrupting and Reshaping: Early Stages of Nation Building in the Balkans, ed. Marco Dogo and Guido Franzinetti (Ravenna: Longo, 2002), 47–64. 10. For more information on the “Great Idea” and the wars of this period, see Theodore George Tatsios, The Megali Idea and the Greek-Turkish War of 1897: The Impact of the Cretan Problem on Greek Irredentism, 1866–97 (New York: Colombia University Press, 1984); John S. Koliopoulos, Brigands with a Cause: Brigandage and Irredentism in Modern Greece, 1821–1912 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1987). 11. Papacosma, Military in Greek Politics: The 1909 Coup d’État, 21–27; Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 43–45. 12. For a summary of the coup’s achievements, see Papacosma, Military in Greek Politics: The 1909 Coup d’Etat, 153–55. 13. A. F. Freris, The Greek Economy in the Twentieth Century (New York: St. Martin’s, 1986), 36–38. 14. Mark Mazower, Greece and the Inter-war Economic Crisis (Oxford: Clarendon, Page 233 →1991), 54. The federation has changed its name several times since its foundation. To avoid confusion, I use the current name throughout the present study. 15. Papacosma, Military in Greek Politics: The 1909 Coup d’État, 41–47. 16. Ibid., 80–83. 17. Ibid., 158–60; George Th. Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic: Social Coalitions and Party Strategies in Greece, 1922–1936 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 127 note 48. 18. Helen Gardikas-Katsiadakis, “Venizelos’ Advent in Greek Politics, 1909–12,” in Eleftherios Venizelos: The Trials of Statesmanship, ed. Paschalis M. Kitromilides (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006), 95–99. 19. See, for instance, Georgios Ventiris, E Ellas Tou 1910–1920: Istorikai Meletai (Athens: Ikaraos, 1970), chapter 1; Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 121–27. Even though the coup was against the old elite in the parliament and was supported by new businessmen, it neither was led by the urban groups nor reflected entirely bourgeoisie interests. For similar arguments, see Nicos P. Mouzelis, Modern Greece: Facets of Underdevelopment (London: Macmillan, 1979), 107–8; George Dertilis, Koinonikos Metashematismos kai Stratiotike Epemvase, 1880–1909 (Athens: Exantas, 1985), 109–20; Mark Mazower, “The Messiah and the Bourgeoisie: Venizelos and Politics in Greece, 1909–1912,”

Historical Journal 35 (1992): 885–904. 20. John Campbell and Philip Sherrard, Modern Greece (London: Ernest Benn, 1968), 112–15; Papacosma, Military in Greek Politics: The 1909 Coup d’État, 163–64; Gardikas-Katsiadakis, “Venizelos’ Advent,” 99–111. 21. Campbell and Sherrard, Modern Greece, 117–22; Michael Llewellyn Smith, Ionian Vision: Greece in Asia Minor, 1919–1922 (London: Hurst, 1998), 35–61. For Greece’s entry to the war and the conflicts that had been caused by this issue, see George B. Leon, Greece and the Great Powers, 1914–1917 (Thessaloniki: Institute for Balkan Studies, 1974). 22. Smith, Ionian Vision, 324–30. 23. Ioannis S. Koliopoulos, “The Last Years, 1933–6,” in Kitromilides, Eleftherios Venizelos, 235. 24. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 92; Ioannis D. Stefanidis, “Reconstructing Greece as a European State: Venizelos’ Last Premiership, 1928–32,” in Kitromilides, Eleftherios Venizelos, 204–5. Between 1929 and 1938, Greek industry was third among the fastest-growing industries in the world, after those of the Soviet Union and Japan. 25. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 94; Olga Christodoulaki describes industrial performance as “buoyant though not continuous in the 1920s.” There were two downturns, in 1923 and 1926. However, Greece recovered from these periods quickly and continued to grow until the Great Depression. See Olga Christodoulaki, “Industrial Growth in Greece between the Wars: A New Perspective,” European Review of Economic History 5 (2001): 61–89 (quote from 74). 26. Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 132–33; Stefanidis, “Reconstructing Greece,” 201–2. 27. Nicos P. Mouzelis, “Class and Clientelistic Politics: The Case of Greece,” Sociological Review 26 (1978): 471–97. 28. Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 159–60. See also Dimitri Pentzopoulos, The Balkan Exchange of Minorities and Its Impact on Greece (London: Hurst, 2002), 152–53. 29. Theodore K. Katsanevas, Trade Unions in Greece: An Analysis of Factors Determining Their Growth and Present Structure (Athens: National Centre for Social Research, 1984), 80. Page 234 → 30. George Leon, “The Greek Labor Movement and the Bourgeois State, 1910–1920, ” Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 4 (1978): 7–15; Christine Agriantoni, “Venizelos and Economic Policy,” in Kitromilides, Eleftherios Venizelos, 285–90. 31. Lito Apostolakou, “вЂGreek’ Workers or Communist вЂOthers’: The Contending Identities of Organized Labor in Greece, c. 1914–36,” Journal of Contemporary History 32 (1997): 410–11, 419. 32. Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 152–53. 33. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 51. 34. W. Edgar, “Oi Ekkathariseis tou 1917,” in Meletemata gyro apo ton Venizelo kai ten Epohe tou, ed. Odysseas Dimitrakopoulos and Thanos Veremis (Athens: Filippote, 1980), 519–50. 35. Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 65. 36. For more information on the military during this period, see Thanos Veremis, “The Officer Corps in Greece (1912–1936),” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 2 (1976): 113–35; Veremis, Oi Epemvaseis tou Stratou sten Ellenike Politike, 1916–1936 (Athens: Exantas, 1977). 37. Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 29. 38. See also Smith, Ionian Vision, 330–34, for letters exchanged between Colonel Plasteras, General Pangalos, and Venizelos that clearly demonstrate tensions between Venizelos and the army leaders on other issues, such as another possible assault on Turkey. 39. S. Victor Papacosma, “The Republicanism of Eleftherios Venizelos: Ideology or Tactics?,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 7 (1981): 169–91. 40. “To Istorikon Tou Kinematos,” Eleftheron Vema, 26 June 1925, 2. 41. “Synedria SID tes 30 Iouniou 1925,” in Praktika tes Boules: Synelefseos 11/5/1925–30/6 /1925 (Athens: Aetos A.E., 1950), 778, 781. 42. See the declarations of parliamentarians in ibid., 762–89. 43. Thanos Veremis, “The Greek State and Economy during the Pangalos Regime,” Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 7 (1980): 48–49; Veremis, Oikonomia kai Diktatoria: E Syngyria 1925–1926 (Athens: Morfotiko Idryma Ethnikes Trapezes, 1982), 80–81.

44. Harry J. Psomiades, “The Diplomacy of Theodoros Pangalos, 1925–26,” Balkan Studies 13 (1972): 1–16. 45. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 102. 46. Veremis, “State and Economy,” 46–47. 47. “Metastrofe tes Kyvernetikes Politikes Anevlethesan ai Ekloyai tes Gerousias o K. Pangalos Kataggellei os Hreokopesanta kai Epizemion ton Koinovouleftismon Ekdeloseis yper tes Diktatorias,” Eleftheron Vema, 4 January 1926, 1. 48. Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 93. 49. Ibid., 99–133. 50. For more information on the personality and career of Ioannis Metaxas, see Panagiotis J. Vatikiotis, “Metaxas—the Man,” in The Metaxas Dictatorship: Aspects of Greece, 1936–1940, ed. Robin Higham and Thanos Veremis (Athens: Hellenic Foundation for Defense and Foreign Policy [ELIAMEP], 1993), 179–92. For the propaganda of the regime, see Marina Petrakis, The Metaxas Myth: Dictatorship and Propaganda in Greece (London: Tauris Academic Studies, 2006). 51. For an argument that, despite many common features with fascism, Metaxas’s regime was not fascist, see Constantine Sarandis, “The Ideology and Character of the Page 235 →Metaxas Regime,” in Higham and Veremis, Metaxas Dictatorship, 147–77. Metaxas himself thought that his regime was similar to Salazar’s in Portugal, rather than to the regimes of Hitler or Mussolini (ibid., 177 note 120). 52. For more information on the Cretan rebellion, see Jon V. Kofas, Authoritarianism in Greece: The Metaxas Regime (Boulder: East European Monographs, 1983), 146–56. 53. For the developments within the CP that also led to its increased popularity, see Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 218–25; Haris Vlavianos, “The Greek Communist Party under Siege,” in Higham and Veremis, Metaxas Dictatorship, 193–96; John S. Koliopoulos and Thanos M. Veremis, Greece: The Modern Sequel; From 1831 to the Present (London: Hurst, 2002), 115–17. 54. For the tobacco producers and workers, see Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 118–28, 225–30. For the change in the refugees’ political stance, see Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Effects of the Population Exchange on the Greek and Turkish Political Regimes in the 1930s,” East European Quarterly 42 (2008): 110–18. 55. Kofas, Authoritarianism, 2. 56. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 264–65. 57. Harry Cliadakis, “The Political and Diplomatic Background to the Metaxas Dictatorship, 1935–1936,” Journal of Contemporary History 14 (1979): 129. 58. Campbell and Sherrard, Modern Greece, 159, Koliopoulos and Veremis, Greece: The Modern Sequel, 118. 59. Kofas, Authoritarianism, 2, 4. 60. A complete list of lower-class disturbances for this period was not available to me. The extent of the unrest can be gathered from examples provided in Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 163–64, 265–66, 286–89. 61. Kofas, Authoritarianism, 15. For labor unrest from May to August, see ibid., 15–31. 62. Quoted in ibid., 43. 63. See Metaxas’ statement in Cliadakis, “The Political and Diplomatic Background,” 134, and also cited in Kofas, Authoritarianism, 65. 64. Kofas, Authoritarianism, 130–45; Koliopoulos and Veremis, Greece: The Modern Sequel, 119–20. 65. Campbell and Sherrard, Modern Greece, 158–60. 66. D. H. Close, “The Police in the 4th of August Regime,” Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 13 (1986): 98. There were three conspiracies in the military, including the involvement of some officers in the Cretan revolt. However, these conspiracies were caught at their very initial stages, because the conspirators were betrayed by other officers or caught by the police. 67. Mogens Pelt, Tobacco, Arms, and Politics: Greece and Germany from World Crisis to World War, 1929–41 (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 1998), 67–82. 68. D. H. Close, “The Power Base of the Metaxas Dictatorship,” in Higham and Veremis, Metaxas Dictatorship, 29–30.

69. For some examples, see Kofas, Authoritarianism, 21, 28–29, 43; Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 299–300. 70. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 266, 282. 71. Close, “Power Base,” 18. 72. Kofas, Authoritarianism, 105–21. 73. Mavrogordatos, Stillborn Republic, 136; Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 163–64, 171, 256–57. Page 236 → 74. Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 256–61, 277–81. 75. For examples of such declarations, see ibid., 208, 259, 261, 266. 76. Kofas, Authoritarianism, 74–75. 77. For names of influential people that collaborated with the regime, see ibid., 29; Close, “Power Base, ” 18–20; Mazower, Inter-war Economic Crisis, 290. 78. Hagen Fleischer, “The National Liberation Front (EAM), 1941–1947: A Reassessment,” in Greece at the Crossroads: The Civil War and Its Legacy, ed. John O. Iatrides and Linda Wrigley (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995), 48–90. 79. David H. Close, The Origins of the Greek Civil War (London: Longman Group, 1995), 155–56. 80. Kalyvas, Modern Greece: What Everyone Needs to Know, 83–96. 81. Close, Origins, 220. 82. For the realignment of the parties, see John A. Petropoulos, “The Traditional Political Parties of Greece during the Axis Occupation,” in Greece in the 1940s: A Nation in Crisis, ed. John O. Iatrides (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1981), 27–36; Dimitrios K. Katsoudas, “The Conservative Movement and New Democracy: From Past to Present,” in Political Change in Greece: Before and After the Colonels, ed. Kevin Featherstone and Dimitrios K. Katsoudas (New York: St. Martin’s, 1987), 85–90; David Close, “The Changing Structure of the Right, 1945–1950,” in Iatrides and Wrigley, Greece at the Crossroads, 122–57. 83. Kostas Vergopoulos, “The Emergence of the New Bourgeoisie, 1944–1952,” in Iatrides, Greece in the 1940s, 298–318. 84. George Pagoulatos, Greece’s New Political Economy: State, Finance, and Growth from Postwar to EMU (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 41. 85. Alec A. Alexander, Greek Industrialists: An Economic and Social Analysis (Athens: Center of Planning and Economic Research, 1964), 45. 86. The military was royalist and was cleansed of republican elements under the Metaxas regime. However, with Greece’s entry into the Second World War in 1940, the military, which had only around 5,000 active officers, had to be expanded quickly. As a result, around 3,000 republicans were readmitted to the lower ranks. From that time onward, the republicans resented the fact that they were not given any authority, while the royalists disdained the newcomers and feared another change in posts. See Hagen Fleischer, “The вЂAnomalies’ in the Greek Middle East Forces, 1941–1944,” Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 5 (1973): 7; Andre Gerolymatos, “The Role of the Greek Officer Corps in the Resistance,” Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 11 (1984): 70–71. 87. Freris, Greek Economy, 135. 88. Close, Greek Civil War, 200, 214–16; Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 146–47, 150. 89. See Freris, Greek Economy, 148, table 4.7. 90. Athenian, Inside the Colonels’ Greece, trans. Richard Clogg (London: Chatto and Windus, 1972), 78–80; Theodore A. Couloumbis, “The Greek Junta Phenomenon,” Polity 6 (1974): 358–60; C. M. Woodhouse, The Rise and Fall of the Greek Colonels (London: Granada, 1985), 85–86. For a list of 12 leaders of the 1967 intervention and their positions in the government until August 1971, see George Zaharopoulos, “Politics and the Army in Post-War Greece,” in Greece under Military Rule, ed. Richard Clogg and George Yannopoulos (London: Secker and Warburg, 1972), 31. Page 237 → 91. P. Nikiforos Diamandouros, “Regime Change and the Prospects for Democracy in Greece, 1974–1983,” in Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Southern Europe, ed. Guillermo O’Donnell, Philippe C. Schmitter, and Laurence Whitehead (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), 145.

92. D. George Kousoulas, “The Origins of the Greek Military Coup, April 1967,” Orbis 13 (1969): 336–51. 93. In 1961, almost 20 percent of the population was registered as dangerous to national interest. Between 1951 and 1967, around 1,700 people were sent to exile for not adhering to the correct ideology. See Peter Murtagh, The Rape of Greece: The King, the Colonels, and the Resistance (London: Simon and Schuster, 1994), 44; Takis S. Pappas, Making Party Democracy in Greece (London: MacMillan; New York: St. Martin’s, 1999), 25 note 35. 94. The calculation is based on Freris, Greek Economy, 156, table 5.1. 95. Mouzelis, Modern Greece: Facets of Underdevelopment, 28; Freris, Greek Economy, 171–81; Persefoni V. Tsaliki, The Greek Economy: Sources of Growth in the Postwar Era (New York: Praeger, 1991), 4–13. 96. Nicos P. Mouzelis, “Capitalism and Dictatorship in Post-war Greece,” New Left Review 1, no. 96 (1976): 69. 97. Legg, Politics in Modern Greece, 106; D. Karageorgas, “The Distribution of Tax Burden by Income Groups in Greece,” Economic Journal 83 (1973): 447; Nicos P. Mouzelis, “On the Rise of Postwar Military Dictatorships: Argentina, Chile, Greece,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 28 (1986): 63. 98. Katsanevas, Trade Unions, 99. 99. Kostis Kornetis, Children of the Dictatorship: Student Resistance, Cultural Politics, and the “Long 1960s” in Greece (New York: Berghahn, 2013), 15. 100. Christos L. Doumas, “Crisis, Revolution, and Military Rule in Greece: A Tentative Analysis,” Southern Quarterly 6 (1968): 263–64. 101. Andreas Papandreou, Democracy at Gunpoint: The Greek Front (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1970), 177–79, 181–82 (quotes from 177 and 178). It is possible that Andreas Papandreou was exaggerating the numbers. However, the military rulers later referred to these demonstrations as proof of chaos and communist threat, so no matter what the exact numbers of the rallies and participants were, they were significant for both camps. 102. Kornetis, Children of the Dictatorship, 27–28. 103. Constantine P. Danopoulos, Warriors and Politicians in Modern Greece (Chapel Hill, NC: Documentary Publications, 1984), 45–46. 104. See quotations from Georgios and Andreas Papanderou in ibid., 49, 53–54. 105. Ibid., 37–38, 50–55. Andreas many times denied his involvement with the conspiracy. See, for instance, Papandreou, Democracy at Gunpoint, 145–52, 187–94. 106. Kousoulas, “Origins of the Greek Military Coup,” 344–46; C. M. Woodhouse, “The вЂRevolution’ in Its Historical Context,” in Clogg and Yannopoulos, Greece under Military Rule, 12–14; Woodhouse, Rise and Fall, 10–17; Clogg, Parties and Elections, 50–53. 107. George A. Kourvetaris, Studies on Modern Greek Society and Politics (Boulder: East European Monographs, 1999), 137–43. 108. For the NATO aid that maintained the balance of power in favor of the military against civilian forces, see Yaprak GГјrsoy, “Regime Change in the Aegean after the SecondPage 238 → World War: Reconsidering Foreign Influence,” Journal of Modern Greek Studies 27 (2009): 325–29. 109. C. L. Sulzberger, “Greece under the Colonels,” Foreign Affairs 48 (1970): 303–4; Sotiris Rizas, E Ellenike Politike meta ton Emfylio Polemo: Koinovouleftismos kai Diktatoria (Athens: Kastaniote, 2008), 420–21. 110. Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 161. 111. Personal interview by the author with a retired air force general, Athens, 21 June 2004; personal interview by the author with a retired chief of the general staff, Athens, 23 July 2004. 112. Personal interview by the author with Ioannis Paloumbis, retired vice admiral and former deputy chief of the joint defense staff, Athens, 5 July 2004. 113. For student resistance to the regime, see Kornetis, Children of the Dictatorship. 114. For splits in the junta, see Couloumbis, “Greek Junta Phenomenon,” 361–62. For a detailed account of the students’ revolt and its aftermath, see Woodhouse, Rise and Fall, 126–44. 115. For some of the declarations, see Maurice Genevoix, The Greece of Karamanlis, trans. Dorothy

Trollope (London: Doric, 1973), 191–202. 116. Athenian, Inside the Colonels’ Greece, 10–11; George Yannopoulos, “The State of the Opposition Forces since the Military Coup,” in Clogg and Yannopoulos, Greece under Military Rule, 168–69. 117. Couloumbis, “Greek Junta Phenomenon,” 364–66. 118. Constantine P. Danopoulos and Larry Gerston, “Democratic Currents in Authoritarian Seas: The Military in Greece and the Philippines,” Armed Forces and Society 16 (1990): 540. On the failure of the liberalization scheme due to the regime’s lack of support from the politicians and sections of the military, see also Ioannis Tzortzis, “Fake or Failed? A Greek Would-Be Reforma Pactada,” Southeast European and Black Sea Studies 12 (2012): 315–33. 119. Yannopoulos, “State of the Opposition Forces,” 177–88; Michalis Spourdalakis, The Rise of the Greek Socialist Party (London: Routledge, 1988), 51–59; Murtagh, Rape of Greece, 129–44. 120. Nicos P. Mouzelis, Politics in the Semi-Periphery: Early Parliamentarism and Late Industrialisation in the Balkans and Latin America (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1986), 140–41. See also Nancy Bermeo, “Classification and Consolidation: Some Lessons from the Greek Dictatorship,” Political Science Quarterly 110 (1995): 442. 121. George A. Jouganatos, The Development of the Greek Economy, 1950–1991: An Historical, Empirical, and Econometric Analysis (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1992), 55–70. 122. The number of respondents increased from 21 to 25 due to the fact that 4 new respondents who established their companies in the mid-1960s were added to the original group of respondents. For details on the interviews, see the appendix. 123. On the involvement of Hristoforos Stratos, see Bermeo, “Classification and Consolidation,” 450. One of my interviewees also explained his active involvement in resistance and his contacts with political leaders at the time (personal interview by the author with a shipowner, Athens, 6 September 2004). 124. Susannah Verney and Theodore Couloumbis, “State-International Systems Interaction and the Greek Transition to Democracy in the mid-1970s,” in Encouraging Democracy: The International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe, ed. Geoffrey Pridham (London: Leicester University Press, 1991), 111–14.

Page 239 →Chapter 4 1. On the electoral system, see Frederick W. Frey, The Turkish Political Elite (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1965), 423–37. 2. Juan J. Linz, “Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes,” in Handbook of Political Science, vol. 3, Macropolitical Theory, ed. Fred I. Greenstein and Nelson W. Polsby (Reading. MA: Addison-Wesley, 1975), 175–411. 3. For a complete list of party officials also holding the position of prime minister between 1920 and 1950, see the table in HakkД± Uyar, Tek Parti DГ¶nemi ve Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (Istanbul: Boyut, 1999), 79. 4. TГјrkiye Cumhuriyeti’nde Ayaklanmalar (1924–1938) (Ankara: Genelkurmay Harp Tarihi BaЕџkanlД±ДџД±, 1972). On riots against the headgear reform and their repression, see Mete TunГ§ay, TГјrkiye Cumhuriyeti’nde Tek-Parti YГ¶netimi’nin KurulmasД± (1923–1931) (Istanbul: Tarih VakfД± Yurt YayД±nlarД±, 1999), 155–64. 5. Erik Jan ZГјrcher, ModernleЕџen TГјrkiye’nin Tarihi, trans. Yasemin Saner GГ¶nen (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 1995), 59–136. 6. Dankwart A. Rustow, “The Army and the Founding of the Turkish Republic,” World Politics 11 (1959): 519–26. 7. On the second group, see Ahmet Demirel, Birinci Mecliste Muhalefet (Д°kinci Grup) (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 2009). 8. Metin Heper, The State Tradition in Turkey (Walkington: Eothen, 1985), 23, 30, 36–39; ZГјrcher, ModernleЕџen, 51–52. 9. Г‡aДџlar Keyder, DГјnya Ekonomisi Д°Г§inde TГјrkiye (1923–1929) (Istanbul: Tarih VakfД± Yurt YayД±nlarД±, 1993), 16.

10. ErtuДџrul Tokdemir, TГјrkiye’de TarД±msal YapД± (1923–1933) (Istanbul: Teknik Гњniversite, 1988), 43–44. 11. For evidence, see the 1927 survey in Kemal H. Karpat, “Structural Change, Historical Stages of Modernization, and the Role of Social Groups in Turkish Politics,” in Social Change and Politics in Turkey: A Structural-Historical Analysis, ed. Kemal H. Karpat (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1973), 54. 12. ZГјrcher, ModernleЕџen, 76. 13. Г‡aДџlar Keyder, State and Class in Turkey: A Study in Capitalist Development (London: Verso, 1987), 69, 79. For a more detailed analysis of the consequences of the population exchange on the Turkish authoritarian regime, see Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Effects of the Population Exchange on the Greek and Turkish Political Regimes in the 1930s,” East European Quarterly 42 (2008): 96–110. 14. Ahmet T. Kuru, Secularism and State Policies toward Religion: The United States, France, and Turkey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 15. Ећerif Mardin, “Center-Periphery Relations: A Key to Turkish Politics?,” Daedalus 102 (1973): 184. 16. Erik Jan ZГјrcher, Political Opposition in the Early Turkish Republic: The Progressive Republican Party, 1924–1925 (New York: E. J. Brill, 1991), 95–96. 17. Frey, Turkish Political Elite, 333. 18. ZГјrcher, Political Opposition, 65–67. 19. For more information on the Nasturi rebellion, see TГјrkiye Cumhuriyeti’nde Ayaklanmalar, 19–75; TunГ§ay, Tek-Parti, 116–19. 20. For the preparations, see TГјrkiye Cumhuriyet’inde Ayaklanmalar, 81–82; Ergun Page 240 →Aybars, YakД±n Tarihimizde Anadolu AyaklanmalarД± (Istanbul: TГјrk DГјnyasД± AraЕџtД±rmalarД± VakfД±, 1988), 33–36. 21. ZГјrcher, Political Opposition, 90–93. 22. Cem Emrence, 99 GГјnlГјk Muhalefet: Serbest Cumhuriyet FД±rkasД± (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 2014), 49–74. 23. For an analysis of the program, see Г‡etin Yetkin, Serbest Cumhuriyet FД±rkasД± OlayД± (Istanbul: Karacan, 1982), 91–99. 24. Walter Weiker, Political Tutelage and Democracy in Turkey: The Free Party and Its Aftermath (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1973), 71. 25. Yetkin, Serbest Cumhuriyet, 166–81. 26. Emrence, 99 GГјnlГјk, 163–90. 27. TunГ§ay, Tek-Parti, 303–5. 28. For an account of military officers who simultaneously held political positions, see ibid., 120–23. 29. Ahmet YeЕџil, TГјrkiye Cumhuriyeti’nde Д°lk TeЕџkilatlД± Muhalefet Hareketi: Terakkiperver Cumhuriyet FД±rkasД± (Ankara: Cedit NeЕџriyat, 2002), 167–69. 30. For civil-military relations during this period, see George S. Harris, “The Role of the Military in Turkish Politics,” part 1, Middle East Journal 19 (1965): 54–62; Гњmit Г–zdaДџ, Ordu-Siyaset Д°liЕџkisi (AtatГјrk ve Д°nГ¶nГј DГ¶nemleri) (Ankara: GГјndoДџan, 1991), 41–121. 31. For more information on the independents and the independent group, see Uyar, Tek Parti, 123–34, 157–65. 32. TГјrkiye Cumhuriyeti’nde Ayaklanmalar, 155–66. 33. Kemal KiriЕџГ§i and Gareth M. Winrow, The Kurdish Question and Turkey: An Example of a Transstate Ethnic Conflict (London: Frank Cass, 1997), 105; Soner Г‡aДџaptay, TГјrkiye’de Д°slam, Laiklik ve MilliyetГ§ilik: TГјrk Kimdir? (Istanbul: Istanbul Bilgi Гњniversitesi YayД±nlarД±, 2009), 169–77. 34. Only two deputies opposed the article that gave the commander/mayor of Tunceli the power to ratify death sentences without the approval of the National Assembly. For more information on the law, see UДџur Mumcu, KГјrt DosyasД± (Istanbul: um:ag VakfД±, 2002), 83–91. 35. Aybars, YakД±n Tarihimizde, 50–56. 36. TГјrkiye Cumhuriyeti’nde Ayaklanmalar, 375–79. 37. Г‡etin Yetkin, TГјrkiye’de Tek Parti YГ¶netimi 1930–1945 (Istanbul: AltД±n Kitaplar, 1983), 96–104; Feroz Ahmad, Д°ttihatГ§ilikten Kemalizme, trans. FatmagГјl Berktay (BaltalД±) (Istanbul: Kaynak, 1986), 193–94.

38. AyЕџe BuДџra, State and Business in Modern Turkey: A Comparative Study (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), 101–2. 39. Ibid., 103. 40. Ibid., 108–9. 41. Uyar, Tek Parti, 326–28, 333–35. 42. Korkut Boratav, TГјrkiye’de DevletГ§ilik (Ankara: SavaЕџ, 1982), 113–18, 181–214. 43. Д°lhan Tekeli and Selim Д°lkin, 1929 DГјnya BuhranД±nda TГјrkiye’nin Д°ktisadi Politika ArayД±ЕџlarД± (Ankara: ODTГњ, 1977), 222–23; Boratav, DevletГ§ilik, 176–77. Apart from this economic common interest, the political elite attained an “implicit trade-off” with the local notables. While the state did not attack their privileged positions, the local notables, in return, supported the RPP. See Ergun Г–zbudun, “Established Revolution versus Page 241 →Unfinished Revolution: Contrasting Patterns of Democratization in Mexico and Turkey,” in Authoritarian Politics in Modern Society: The Dynamics of Established One-Party Systems, ed. Samuel Huntington and Clement Moore (New York: Basic Books, 1970), 387–90. 44. Korkut Boratav, TГјrkiye Д°ktisat Tarihi (1908–2002) (Istanbul: Д°mge, 2003), 70. 45. Karpat, “Structural Change,” 56. 46. Berch Berberoglu, Turkey in Crisis: From State Capitalism to Neo-Colonialism (London: Zed, 1982), 60. 47. Faik Г–kte, VarlД±k Vergisi FaciasД± (Istanbul: NebioДџlu, 1951); Ayhan Aktar, VarlД±k Vergisi ve “TГјrkleЕџtirme” PolitikalarД± (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 2001). 48. Kemal H. Karpat, Turkey’s Politics: The Transition to a Multi-party System (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959), 117–25. 49. For an account of these events, see Taner Timur, TГјrkiye’de Г‡ok Partili Hayata GeГ§iЕџ (Ankara: Д°mge, 2003), 14–21. For the involvement of the landlords and the businessmen, see Karpat, Turkey’s Politics, 316–17 and note 28. 50. Timur, Г‡ok Partili Hayata GeГ§iЕџ, 130–34. 51. Ibid., 70–73. 52. Karpat, Turkey’s Politics, 176–77. 53. Cem EroДџul, Demokrat Parti: Tarihi ve Д°deolojisi (Ankara: Д°mge, 2003), 49–50, 77–80. 54. For memoirs providing more information on the secret organizations, see Fahri Belen, Ordu ve Politika: Ordu Д°htilalleri, Askeri DiktatГ¶rlГјkler, AnarЕџinin KaynaklarД±, BГ¶lГјcГј Hareketler (Istanbul: BakД±Еџ, 1971), 32–33; Sadi KoГ§aЕџ, AtatГјrk’ten 12 Mart’a AnД±lar (Istanbul: DoДџuЕџ, 1977), 1:147–59. For summaries, see Г–zdaДџ, Ordu-Siyaset, 141–44, 164–68; Abdi Д°pekГ§i and Г–mer Sami CoЕџar, Д°htilalin Д°Г§yГјzГј (Istanbul: TГјrkiye Д°Еџ BankasД± KГјltГјr YayД±nlarД±, 2010), 6–14. 55. Mustafa Albayrak, TГјrk Siyasi Tarihinde Demokrat Parti (1946–1960) (Ankara: Phoenix, 2004), 119–21. For an overview of the reasons behind the peaceful transfer of power to the DP, see ibid., 177–80. 56. Д°nГ¶nГј also denied any Western pressure to democratize. For more on this point, see Yaprak GГјrsoy, “Regime Change in the Aegean after the Second World War: Reconsidering Foreign Influence, ” Journal of Modern Greek Studies 27 (2009): 324–25. 57. Tanel Demirel, TГјrkiye’nin Uzun On YД±lД±: Demokrat Parti Д°ktidarД± ve 27 MayД±s Darbesi (Istanbul: Д°stanbul Bilgi Гњniversitesi, 2011), 49–57. 58. For a quick summary of the events, see Hasan Pulur, “1957 SeГ§imini HatД±rlarsanД±z,” Milliyet, 3 April 2009, http://www.milliyet.com.tr/——-secimini-hatirlarsaniz—-/hasan-pulur/yasam /magazinyazardetay/03.04.2009/1078862/default.htm 59. EroДџul, Demokrat Parti, 91. 60. Despite the use of religion, the DP was not Islamist: it closed down religious parties and enacted such laws as the protection of Ataturk’s image or the freedom of conscience, which aimed at reinforcing secularism and the Kemalist principles. See Гњmit Г–zdaДџ, Menderes DГ¶neminde Ordu-Siyaset Д°liЕџkileri ve 27 MayД±s Д°htilali (Istanbul: Boyut, 1997), 55–56; T. Demirel, TГјrkiye’nin Uzun On YД±lД±, 137–40. For the Law on the Freedom of Conscience and Gathering, see the official gazette dated 29 July 1953, available online at http://www.resmigazete.gov.tr/default.aspx#

61. Keyder, State and Class, 130–40. 62. Dwight J. Simpson, “Development as a Process: The Menderes Phase in Turkey,” Middle East Journal 19 (1965): 141–52. Page 242 → 63. BuДџra, State and Business, 120–30. 64. Some notable businessmen, such as Vehbi KoГ§, had never supported the DP and remained RPP supporters even in the early 1950s. 65. On the conflict between the DP and RPP during this era, see EroДџul, Demokrat Parti, 101–251; T. Demirel, Uzun On YД±lД±, 151–71, 176–212, 275–309, 315–28. 66. For instances of two of his speeches in 1960, see Гњmit Г–zdaДџ, Menderes DГ¶neminde, 149–53. 67. Ibid., 126. 68. Ibid., 23–32. 69. Ibid., 52–54. For the coup makers’ own account of the reasons behind the coup, see Kemal H. Karpat, “The Military and Politics in Turkey, 1960–1964: A Socio-Cultural Analysis of a Revolution, ” American Historical Review 75 (1970): 1663–72. 70. For memoirs detailing the planning of the coup, see DГјndar Seyhan, GГ¶lgedeki Adam (Istanbul: HГјr, 1966); SД±tkД± Ulay, “Harbiye Silah BaЕџД±na!” 27 Mayis 1960 (Istanbul: KitapГ§Д±lД±k, 1968); Orhan ErkanlД±, AnД±lar, Sorunlar, Sorumluluklar (Istanbul: Bahaa, 1972); KoГ§aЕџ, AtatГјrk’ten 12 Mart’a, vols. 1–2; Numan Esin, Devrim ve Demokrasi: Bir 27 MayД±sГ§Д±nД±n AnД±larД±, vol. 1 (Istanbul: DoДџan, 2005). For secondary resources, see Д°pekГ§i and CoЕџar, Д°htilalin Д°Г§yГјzГј, 19–177; George S. Harris, “The Role of the Military in Turkish Politics,” part 2, Middle East Journal 19 (1965): 171–76. 71. Daniel Lerner and Richard D. Robinson, “Swords and Ploughshares: The Turkish Army as a Modernizing Force,” World Politics 13 (1960): 19–44. 72. Walter Weiker, The Turkish Revolution, 1960–1961: Aspects of Military Politics (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1980), 127–31. 73. Nevin Yurdsever AteЕџ, TГјrkiye’de Askeri Darbe GiriЕџimleri (1960–1964) (Istanbul: ГњГ§dal, 1983), 121–23; DoДџan Akyaz, Askeri MГјdahalelerin Orduya Etkisi: HiyerarЕџi DД±ЕџД± Г–rgГјtlenmeden Emir Komuta Zincirine (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 2002), 148–65. 74. Weiker, Turkish Revolution, 147–52; Karpat, “Military and Politics,” 1674–75. 75. Г–zdaДџ, Menderes DГ¶neminde, 313–15, 349–50, 368–77. 76. For the political and economic developments in the aftermath of the coup, see Weiker, Turkish Revolution, 25–153. 77. Akyaz, Askeri MГјdahalelerin Orduya Etkisi, 165–76. 78. Yurdsever AteЕџ, Askeri Darbe, 124–43; Akyaz, Askeri MГјdahalelerin Orduya Etkisi, 180–214. 79. Yurdsever AteЕџ, Askeri Darbe, 143–61; Akyaz, Askeri MГјdahalelerin Orduya Etkisi, 214–34. 80. The 1962 constitution is available in English in SadД±k Balkan, Ahmet E. Uysal, and Kemal H. Karpat, “Constitution of the Turkish Republic: Translated for the Committee of National Unity,” Middle East Journal 16 (1962): 215–38. 81. Henri J. Barkey, The State and the Industrialization Crisis in Turkey (Boulder: Westview, 1990), 66. 82. Kemal H. Karpat, “Social Groups and the Political System after 1960,” in Social Change and Politics in Turkey, 258; Feroz Ahmad, Demokrasi SГјrecinde TГјrkiye (1945–1980), trans. Ahmet Fethi (Istanbul: Hil, 1992), 211–12. 83. Ahmad, Demokrasi, 267; Tanel Demirel, Adalet Partisi: Д°deoloji ve Politika (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 2004), 307–11. 84. Kemal H. Karpat, “The Turkish Left,” Journal of Contemporary History 1 (1966): 185. Page 243 → 85. BuДџra, State and Business, 131–38. 86. Barkey, State and the Industrialization Crisis, 70–74, 109–39. 87. YeЕџim Arat, “Politics and Big Business: Janus-Faced Link to the State,” in Strong State and Economic Interest Groups: The Post-1980 Turkish Experience, ed. Metin Heper (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1991), 136–37. 88. Barkey, State and the Industrialization Crisis, 150–62; Ahmad, Demokrasi, 243; Гњmit Cizre, APOrdu Д°liЕџkileri: Bir Д°kilemin Anatomisi (Istanbul: Д°letiЕџim, 2002), 69. 89. Walter F. Weiker, The Modernization of Turkey: From Ataturk to the Present Day (New York: Holmes

and Meier, 1981), 185; Berberoglu, Turkey in Crisis, 73, 113. 90. Jacob M. Landau, Radical Politics in Modern Turkey (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1974), 88–95. 91. BГјlent Ecevit, “Labor in Turkey as a New Social and Political Force,” in Karpat, Social Change and Politics in Turkey, 153–55; Karpat, “Social Groups,” 273–75. 92. Landau, Radical Politics, 123; Igor P. Lipovsky, The Socialist Movement in Turkey, 1960–1980 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1992), 11. 93. Artun Гњnsal, Umuttan YalnД±zlД±Дџa TГјrkiye Д°ЕџГ§i Partisi (1961–1971) (Istanbul: Tarih Vakfi Yurt YayД±nlarД±, 2002), 114–18, 347–52. 94. SГјlayman Takkeci, 12 Mart Belgeleri: MadanoДџlu CuntasД± (Д°ddianame) (Istanbul: BoДџaziГ§i, 1973), 21–43; Akyaz, Askeri MГјdahalelerin Orduya Etkisi, 264–75. 95. Muhsin Batur, AnД±lar ve GГ¶rГјЕџler: “Üç DГ¶nemin Perde Arkası” (Istanbul: Milliyet, 1985), 246–71. 96. Batur, AnД±lar, 280–97; Mehmet Ali Birand, Can DГјndar, and BГјlent Г‡aplД±, 12 Mart: Д°htilalin PenГ§esinde Demokrasi (Ankara: Д°mge, 1997), 200–204. 97. Ahmad, Demokrasi, 206–7. 98. Democratic Party deputies opposed the memorandum when it was read in the parliament. See Birand, DГјndar, and Г‡aplД±, 12 Mart, 211. 99. Ahmad, Demokrasi, 282–85. 100. Personal interview by the author, Ankara, 22 September 2005. 101. According to US officials, Turkey was the second-biggest beneficiary of American military assistance. See George S. Harris, Troubled Alliance: Turkish-American Problems in Historical Perspective, 1945–1971 (Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, 1972), 153–60. 102. Ahmad, Demokrasi, 272–74. 103. Cizre, AP-Ordu, 121–25. 104. Birand, DГјndar, and Г‡aplД±, 12 Mart, 220–21. 105. Personal interview by the author, Ankara, 30 June 2005. 106. Ahmad, Demokrasi, 288–89; BuДџra, State and Business, 139–40. 107. Batur, AnД±lar, 346–47. 108. Ahmad, Demokrasi, 294–99. For Erim’s explanation of his resignation, see Nihat Erim, “The Turkish Experience in the Light of Recent Developments,” Middle East Journal 26 (1972): 249–52. 109. For more information on these parties, see Lipovsky, Socialist Movement, 125–31. 110. Binnaz Toprak, “Dinci SaДџ,” in GeГ§iЕџ SГјrecinde TГјrkiye, ed. Irvin Cemil Schick and ErtuДџrul Ahmet Tonak (Istanbul: Belge, 1998), 250–51. 111. Mehmet Ali AДџaoДџullarД±, “AЕџД±rД± MilliyetГ§i SaДџ,” in Schick and Tonak, GeГ§iЕџ SГјrecinde, 219–23; Jacob M. Landau, Pan-Turkism: From Irredentism to Cooperation (London: Hurst, 1995), 154–56. Page 244 → 112. Г‡aДџlar Keyder, “TГјrkiye Demokrasisinin Ekonomi PolitiДџi,” in Schick and Tonak, GeГ§iЕџ SГјrecinde, 70–71. 113. Barkey, State and the Industrialization Crisis, 80–81, 186. 114. Jayanta Roy, “The Turkish Economy: Assessment of a Recovery under a Structural Adjustment Program” (EDI Working Papers, Economic Development Institute of the World Bank, Washington, DC, 1989), 3–11. See also ibid., 33, table of “selected economic indicators.” 115. M. Ећehmus GГјzel, TГјrkiye’de Д°ЕџГ§i Hareketi, 1908–1984 (Istanbul: Kaynak, 1996), 242. 116. William Hale, Turkish Politics and the Military (London: Routledge, 1994), 224–26. 117. Even in areas where martial law was declared, there were more than 1,000 incidents against the security forces, 110 members of those forces were killed, and 291 were wounded between February 1978 and July 1980. See CГјneyt ArcayГјrek, Demokrasi Dur: 12 EylГјl 1980 (Nisan 1980-EylГјl 1980) (Ankara: Bilgi YayД±nevi, 1986), 211. 118. Personal interviews by the author with two businessmen who were on the boards of the two chambers during the 1970s: Istanbul, 20 May 2005, and Bodrum, 17 July 2005.

119. Barkey, State and the Industrialization Crisis, 163–66; BuДџra, State and Business, 140–42; IЕџД±k Г–zel, State-Business Alliances and Economic Development: Turkey, Mexico, and North Africa (London: Routledge, 2014), 45. 120. Heper, State Tradition, 114–15; Ahmad, Demokrasi, 346–47. 121. Heper, State Tradition, 118–19. 122. Hale, Turkish Politics, 229–30; Cizre, AP-Ordu, 160–61. 123. ArcayГјrek, Demokrasi Dur, 190. For a list of specific laws that the military asked the parliament to enact, see Kenan Evren, Kenan Evren’in AnД±larД±, vol. 1 (Istanbul: Milliyet, 1990), 346–47. 124. During our interview in Ankara on 22 September 2005, Demirel reiterated this point. His statement is particularly interesting because it shows how much the civilians relied on the military to put down an internal threat. This kind of reliance (and statements that reflect it) at least unintentionally legitimize the military’s intervention in politics. 125. Mehmet Ali Birand, Hikmet Bila, and RД±dvan Akar, 12 EylГјl: TГјrkiye’nin MiladД± (Istanbul: DoДџan, 1999), 145. 126. This decision was later reversed; in fact, the Turkish military received considerable military and economic aid during the coup years. For international acquiescence and support to the coup, see Senem AydД±n-DГјzgit and Yaprak GГјrsoy, “Turkey: The Counterintuitive Transition of 1983,” in Transitions to Democracy: A Comparative Perspective, ed. Kathryn Stoner and Michael McFaul (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013), 290–315. 127. Suat Parlar, SilahlД± BГјrokrasi’nin Ekonomi PolitiДџi (Istanbul: Mephist, 2005), 107–30. 128. Evren, AnД±larД±, 283–84. 129. Ibid., 456–61, 519. In his memoirs and in our interview, Evren maintained that the silence of the generals despite the coup’s deferment for a few months was evidence of the unity of the military. 130. For more information on the military-politician alliance, see Yaprak GГјrsoy, “Civilian Support and Military Unity in the Outcome of Turkish and Greek Military Interventions,” Journal of Political and Military Sociology 37 (2009): 54–61. Page 245 → 131. Arat, “Politics and Big Business,” 141. 132. Can KД±raГ§, AnД±larД±mla Patronum Vehbi KoГ§ (Istanbul: Milliyet, 1995), 267–68. 133. Hale, Turkish Politics, 251–52. 134. For the political powers of the Turkish military after the coup and for comparisons with the 1974 transition in Greece, see GГјrsoy, “Civilian Support,” 61–67.

Chapter 5 1. Although the term deconsolidation has not been analyzed systematically, one of the most prominent names in the field of democratization studies, Larry Diamond, has already noted that the “political decay” in Greece can be characterized as deconsolidation. See Larry Diamond et al., “Reconsidering the Transition Paradigm,” Journal of Democracy 25 (2014): 94. 2. Richard Clogg, Parties and Elections in Greece: The Search for Legitimacy (London: Hurst, 1987), 176–78; Vassilis Kapetanyannis, “The Communists,” in Political Change in Greece: Before and After the Colonels, ed. Kevin Featherstone and Dimitrios K. Katsoudas (New York: St. Martin’s, 1987), 151–55. 3. Neovi M. Karakatsanis, The Politics of Elite Transformation: The Consolidation of Greek Democracy in Theoretical Perspective (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2001), 97–104. 4. For the initial ideology of the party, see Angelos Elephantis, “PASOK and the Elections of 1977: The Rise of the Populist Movement,” in Greece at the Polls: The National Elections of 1974 and 1977, ed. Howard Rae Penniman (Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, 1981), 110–16; Clogg, Parties and Elections, 122–39; Michalis Spourdalakis, The Rise of the Greek Socialist Party (London: Routledge, 1988), 65–70. 5. Spourdalakis, Rise, 135–39, 162–66, 181–93. 6. Kevin Featherstone, “Elections and Parties in Greece,” Government and Opposition 17 (1982): 183.

7. Kevin Featherstone, “The Greek Socialists in Power,” West European Politics 6 (1983): 245–47; Christos Lyrintzis, “The Power of Populism: The Greek Case,” European Journal of Political Research 15 (1987): 681–82. 8. Heinz-JГјrgen Axt, “On the Way to Self-Reliance? PASOK’s Government Policy in Greece,” Journal of Modern Greek Studies 11 (1984): 198–99; John Spraos, “Government and the Economy: The First Term of PASOK, 1982–1984,” in Greece on the Road to Democracy: From the Junta to PASOK, 1974–1986, ed. Speros Vryonis (New Rochelle, NY: Aristide D. Caratzas, 1991), 183–85. 9. Axt, “On the Way,” 197–98; Spourdalakis, Rise, 225–29; Loukas Tsoukalis, “The Austerity Program: Causes, Reactions, and Prospects,” in Vryonis, Road to Democracy, 193–205. 10. Calliope Golomazou-Papas, “The General Confederation of Workers of Greece: A Case of an Intermediary within an Authoritarian Licensed Corporatist Practice?,” in Vryonis, Road to Democracy, 262. 11. Dimitri C. Constas, “Greek Foreign Policy Objectives, 1974–1986,” in Vryonis, Road to Democracy, 46–53. 12. P. Nikiforos Diamandouros, “Transition to, and Consolidation of, Democratic Politics in Greece, 1974–1983: A Tentative Assessment,” West European Politics 7 (1984): 63; Panayote E. Dimitrias, “Changes in Public Attitudes,” in Featherstone Page 246 →and Katsoudas, Political Change, 64–84; Karakatsanis, Politics of Elite Transformation, 86–91. 13. For the social democratic outlook of ND, see Dimitrios K. Katsoudas, “New Democracy: In or Out of Social Democracy?,” in Vryonis, Road to Democracy, 1–14. 14. For adverse effects of the EC accession in the early 1980s, see A. F. Freris, The Greek Economy in the Twentieth Century (New York: St. Martin’s, 1986), 201–15. 15. Takis S. Pappas, Making Party Democracy in Greece (London: MacMillan; New York: St. Martin’s, 1999), 150. 16. Rossetos Fakiolas, “Interest Groups: An Overview,” in Featherstone and Katsoudas, Political Change, 183. 17. Featherstone, “Greek Socialists in Power,” 243–44; Freris, Greek Economy, 204. 18. One businessman argued, quite contrarily, that there was a boom in demand in the early 1980s and that his company did good business. 19. Diamandouros, “Transition,” 60; Clogg, Parties and Elections, 59. 20. Constantine P. Danopoulos, Warriors and Politicians in Modern Greece (Chapel Hill, NC: Documentary Publications, 1984), 133–35; Diamandouros, “Transition,” 57–58; C. M. Woodhouse, The Rise and Fall of the Greek Colonels (London: Granada, 1985), 167–68; Thanos Veremis, The Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy (London: Hurst, 1997), 173. 21. Constantine P. Danopoulos, “From Balconies to Tanks: Post-Junta Civil-Military Relations in Greece,” Journal of Political and Military Sociology 13 (1985): 86. 22. Danopoulos, Warriors and Politicians, 137. 23. Diamandouros, “Transition,” 60; Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 174–75. 24. Veremis, Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy, 176–79; Gerassimos Karabelias, “Twenty Years of Civil-Military Relations in Postdictatorship Greece, 1975–95: Steps Toward the Consolidation of Democracy,” Mediterranean Quarterly 10 (1999): 72–73. 25. Karakatsanis, Politics of Elite Transformation, 154–55. 26. Danopoulos, Warriors and Politicians, 135–36. 27. Woodhouse, Rise and Fall, 168. 28. Personal interview by the author, Athens, 21 June 2004. 29. For an overview of political patronage in Greece and its origins, see Takis S. Pappas, “Why Greece Failed,” Journal of Democracy 24 (2013): 31–45; Pappas, Populism and Crisis Politics in Greece (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). 30. Ilias Nicolacopoulos, “Elections and Voters, 1974–2004: Old Cleavages and New Issues,” West European Politics 28 (March 2005): 260–78. 31. Stathis N. Kalyvas, Modern Greece: What Everyone Needs to Know (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 131–33, 164–70.

32. The employment number for the public sector was calculated from International Labor Organization (ILO) data available at http://laborsta.ilo.org/. For the other numbers, see John Sfakianakis, “The Cost of Protecting Greece’s Public Sector,” New York Times, 10 October 2012, http://www.nytimes.com /2012/10/11/opinion/the-cost-of-protecting-greeces-public-sector.html 33. Klaus Schwab and Michael E. Porter, The Global Competitiveness Report, 2008–2009 (Geneva: World Economic Forum, 2008), 427. 34. United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, World Investment Report,Page 247 → 2009: Transnational Corporations, Agricultural Production, and Development (New York: United Nations, 2009), 255–56, http://unctad.org/en/docs/wir2009_en.pdf 35. Jason Manolopoulos, Greece’s “Odious” Debt: The Looting of the Hellenic Republic by the Euro, the Political Elite, and the Investment Community (London: Anthem, 2011), 11. 36. Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index, http://www.transparency.org/research/cpi/ 37. “Deputies Release Siemens Findings,” Ekathimerini, 20 January 2011, http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite1_1_20/01/2011_374352 38. “Ex–Greek Defense Official Admits to Taking Bribe for Radar System,” Ekathimerini, 27 February 2014, http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite1_1_27/02/2014_537773 39. The only exceptional year was 2003, when Bulgaria ranked first and Greece second. The data was compiled from the World Bank, World DataBank, World Development Indicators, http://databank.worldbank.org/data/ (indicator used is Military Expenditure, percent of GDP). 40. Manolopoulos, “Odious” Debt, 71–75. 41. For a general analysis of interest groups and rent seeking in Greece, see Michael Mitsopoulos and Theodore Pelagidis, Understanding the Crisis in Greece: From Boom to Bust (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 6–22. 42. “Public and Private Expenditure on Pensions,” OECD Factbook, 2014: Economic, Environmental, and Social Statistics, http://www.oecd-ilibrary.org/economics/oecd-factbook_18147364 43. Manos Matsaganis, “The Welfare State and the Crisis: The Case of Greece,” Journal of European Social Policy 21 (2011): 503–4. 44. Manolopoulos, “Odious” Debt, 89–94. 45. Theofanis Exadaktylos and Nikolaos Zahariadis, Policy Implementation and Political Trust: Greece in the Age of Austerity, GreeSE Paper 65 (December 2012), 23, http://www.lse.ac.uk/europeanInstitute /research/hellenicObservatory/CMS%20pdf/Publications/GreeSE/GreeSE-No65.pdf 46. Nikolaos Artavanis, Adair Morse, and Margarita Tsoutsoura, Tax Evasion across Industries: Soft Credit Evidence from Greece, Chicago Booth Paper 12-25 (June 2012), 4, https://www.chicagobooth.edu/blogs /informingreform/docs/taxevasion.pdf 47. Georgia Kaplanoglou and Vassilis T. Rapanos, “Tax and Trust: The Fiscal Crisis in Greece,” South European Society and Politics 18 (2013): 283–304. 48. Dante Roscini, Jonathan Schlefer, and Konstantinos Dimitriou, The Greek Crisis: Tragedy or Opportunity?, Harvard Business School Case Study (April 2011), https://hbr.org/product/the-greek-crisistragedy-or-opportunity/711088-PDF-ENG 49. European Central Bank, IRS: Long-Term Interest Rate Statistics, http://sdw.ecb.europa.eu /quickview.do?SERIES_KEY=229.IRS.M.GR.L.L40.CI.0000.EUR.N.Z 50. John Milios and Dimitris P. Sotiropoulos, “Crisis of Greece or Crisis of the Euro? A View from the European вЂPeriphery,’” Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern Studies 12 (2010): 229. 51. For some scholars, such as Christos Hadjiemmanuil (personal interview by the author, 11 February 2014), this was the real cause of the crisis. Simply put, the ability of the Greek government to borrow was a more important factor than its desire to spend. The availability of global credit explains why fiscally responsible countries, such as Spain and Ireland, were also affected by the crisis. Page 248 → 52. Manolopoulos, “Odious” Debt, 14–16. 53. Schwab and Porter, Global Competitiveness Report, 10, 174. 54. OECD Statistics on Productivity and ULC by Main Economic Activity, http://stats.oecd.org/Index.aspx? DataSetCode=PDBI_I4 55. OECD Statistics on Balance of Payments (MEI), “Current Account Balance as a % of GDP,” http://stats.oecd.org/Index.aspx?DataSetCode=MEI_BOP#

56. Manolopoulos, “Odious” Debt, 21–27. 57. Greece: Staff Report on Request for Stand-By Arrangement, IMF Country Report 10/110 (Washington, DC: International Monetary Fund, 2010), 127, http://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/scr/2010/cr10110.pdf 58. Matsaganis, “Welfare State,” 501–2; Georgios P. Kouretas and Prodromos Vlamis, “The Greek Crisis: Causes and Implications,” Panoeconomicus 57 (2010): 395–96. 59. Michael G. Arghyrou and John D. Tsoukalas, “The Greek Debt Crisis: Likely Causes, Mechanisms, and Outcomes,” World Economy 34 (2011): 173–91. 60. Kevin Featherstone, “The Greek Sovereign Debt Crisis and the EMU: A Failing State in a Skewed Regime,” Journal of Common Market Studies 49 (2011): 201–3. 61. According to Louka Katseli, former minister for labor and social security, the measures were significantly stricter for Greece than for the other EU countries that signed bailout deals, such as Spain and Portugal, because the crisis was worse in Greece (personal interview by the author, Athens, 13 February 2014). 62. The first figure is my calculation, from Eurostat, “Monthly Minimum Wages—Bi-annual Data, ” 2008–14, http://appsso.eurostat.ec.europa.eu/nui/show.do?dataset=earn_mw_cur&lang=en; the second figure is from Ronald Janssen, “The Real Wages in the Eurozone: Not a Double but a Continuing Dip,” Social Europe Journal, http://www.social-europe.eu/2013/05/real-wages-in-theeurozone-not-a-double-but-a-continuing-dip/ 63. Kalyvas, Modern Greece: What Everyone Needs to Know, 180. 64. Cristoph Hermann, “Structural Adjustment and Neoliberal Convergence: The Impact of the Crisis and Austerity Measures on European Social Models,” Intereconomics 48 (2013): 91–92. 65. “Greek Pensions: Why They Are a Flashpoint,” Economist, 18 June 2015, http://www.economist.com/blogs/freeexchange/2015/06/greek-pensions 66. Eurofound Yearbook, 2013: Living and Working in Europe (Luxemburg: Publications Office of the European Union, 2014), 58. 67. Alexandre Afonso, Sotirios Zartaloudis, and Yannis Papadopoulos, “How Party Linkages Shape Austerity Politics: Clientelism and Fiscal Adjustment in Greece and Portugal during the Eurozone Crisis, ” Journal of European Public Policy 22 (2015): 315–34. 68. George Th. Mavrogordatos and Harris Mylonas, “Greece,” European Journal of Political Research Political Data Yearbook 50 (2011): 986–87. 69. The Democratic Alliance dissolved and rejoined ND before the June 2012 elections. 70. Greece has witnessed contentious politics and leftist terrorism relatively more than other European democracies since the transition to 1974 as the symbolic legacy of the 1973 student resistance to the colonels’ junta and as an instrument to put pressure on governments. See Kalyvas, Modern Greece: What Everyone Needs to Know, 122–26. 71. Angelos Stangos, “The Cost of Protests” Ekathimerini, 9 May 2014, http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite3_1_09/05/2014_539590 Page 249 → 72. The statistics are from the Global Terrorism Database (http://www.start.umd.edu/gtd/). The Greek government and international databases keep track of mostly acts carried out by leftist groups. The numbers are probably higher when operations by rightist groups are also included. See Sappho Xenakis, “A New Dawn? Change and Continuity in Political Violence in Greece,” Terrorism and Political Violence 43 (2012): 438. 73. Nikos Sotirakopoulos and George Sotiropoulos, “вЂDirect Democracy Now!’ The Greek Indignados and the Present Cycle of Struggles,” Current Sociology 61 (2013): 443–56. 74. “General Strike against Cuts Bring Greece to a Halt,” BBC News, 6 November 2013, http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-24832847; “Greece Paralysed by First General Strike for Months,” BBC News, 27 November 2014, http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-30223547 75. For instance, the recorded number of strikes in 2011 was 445. See Anadiarthroseis sten Ellada: Oi Apergies to 2011 (Athens: Institouto Ergasias GSEE, 2012), 90. 76. Susannah Verney, “вЂBroken and Can’t Be Fixed’: The Impact of the Economic Crisis on the Greek Party System,” International Spectator 49 (2014): 18–35. 77. Kosmidis calculates a decrease of 4.5 percent of the PASOK government’s electoral support “just for passing the Memorandum in the Greek parliament” (Spyros Kosmidis, “Government

Constraints and Accountability: Economic Voting in Greece before and during IMF Intervention,” West European Politics 37 [2014]: 1147). 78. George Th. Mavrogordatos and Nikos Marantzidis, “Greece,” European Journal of Political Research Political Data Yearbook 49 (2010): 998. 79. For examples of such inconsistent behavior, see George Th. Mavrogordatos and Harris Mylonas, “Greece,” European Journal of Political Research Political Data Yearbook 51 (2012): 124–26. 80. The new party did not run in the September 2015 elections, which may explain the slight increase in PASOK’s votes then compared with the winter ballot. 81. For the similarities between SYRIZA and PASOK and between their leaders Alexis Tsipras and Andreas Papandreou, see Philip Chrysopoulos, “Is SYRIZA the New PASOK?,” Greek Reporter, 12 October 2014, http://greece.greekreporter.com/2014/10/12/is-syriza-the-new-pasok/; Stathis N. Kalyvas, “Parelthon, Paron kai Mellon,” 26 January 2015, http://www.kathimerini.gr/800958/opinion /epikairothta/politikh/parel8on-paron-kai-mellon 82. The Democratic Left pulled its support from the government coalition in June 2013. On change in the party system, see Sofia Vasilopoulou and Daphne Halikiopoulou, “In the Shadow of Grexit: The Greek Election of 17 June 2012,” South European Society and Politics 18 (2013): 523–42; Pappas, Populism and Crisis Politics, 98–124. 83. Myrto Tsakatika and Costas Eleftheriou, “The Radical Left’s Turn towards Civil Society in Greece: One Strategy, Two Paths,” South European Society and Politics 18 (2013): 14–15 (quote from 15). See also Giorgos Charalambous and Iasonas Lamprianou, “Societal Responses to the Post2008 Economic Crisis among South European and Irish Radical Left Parties: Continuity or Change and Why?” Government and Opposition 51 (April 2016): 261–93. 84. Raffaele Borreca, “Political Crisis in Greece and Italy: A Comparative Analysis of SYRIZA and 5 Stars Movement” (paper presented at the Political Studies Association 2014 Conference), 5, http://www.psa.ac.uk/conference/2014-conference/economic-and-political-crisis-greece-and-italy-contexteurope-comparative Page 250 → 85. Alexis Tsipras, “What SYRIZA Will Propose to Europe: Presentation at the Bruno Kreisky Forum,” Transform! European Journal for Alternative Thinking and Political Dialogue 13 (2013): 45, http://transform-network.net/uploads/media/2013_13-en-journal.pdf. These solutions were also expressed by Nikolaos Voutsis, former minister of the interior and the Speaker of the Parliament at the time of writing (personal interview by the author, Athens, 12 February 2014). 86. Yannis Stavrakakis and Giorgos Katsambekis, “Left-Wing Populism in the European Periphery: The Case of SYRIZA,” Journal of Political Ideologies 19 (2014): 130–31. 87. For a description of Greece as a “populist democracy” because both the government and the opposition parties have been populist, see Takis S. Pappas, “Populist Democracies: Post-Authoritarian Greece and Post-Communist Hungary,” Government and Opposition 49 (2014): 1–23; Pappas, Populism and Crisis Politics. 88. Sofia Vasilopoulou, Daphne Halikiopoulou, and Theofanis Exadaktylos, “Greece in Crisis: Austerity, Populism, and the Politics of Blame,” Journal of Common Market Studies 52 (2014): 388–402. 89. For an expert survey with results placing SYRIZA on the extreme left, see Kostas Gemenis and Roula Nezi, “The 2011 Political Parties Expert Survey in Greece,” University of Twente Report, January 2012, 5. 90. For ND’s portrayal of SYRIZA in these terms, see Salomi Boukala, “Waiting for Democracy: Political Crisis and the Discursive (Re)invention of the вЂNational Enemy’ in Times of вЂGrecovery, ’” Discourse and Society 25 (2014): 492–93. 91. For instance, Voutsis described his ideology as “democratic communist,” which is similar to the Euro-communism of the 1960s and 1970s. This view advocates gradual change away from the capitalist model, at a European scale, through the use of socialist and democratic methods instead of “authoritarian ways” (personal interview by the author, Athens, 12 February 2014). 92. Cas Mudde and CristГіbal Rovira Kaltwasser, “Exclusionary vs. Inclusionary Populism: Comparing Contemporary Europe and Latin America,” Government and Opposition 48 (2013): 147–74. 93. Stavrakakis and Katsambekis, “Left-Wing Populism,” 119–42.

94. “Defiant Greece Rehires Public Staff Despite Bailout Talks,” BBC News, 7 May 2015, http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-32630338 95. The controversy surrounding the referendum and its aftermath can be explained by Tsipras’s priority to defeat the opposition within his party. See George Tsebelis, “Lessons from the Greek Crisis, ” Journal of European Public Policy 23 (2016): 25–41. 96. For the terms of the agreement, see “A Look at the Agreement between Greece, Eurozone,” Ekathimerini, 13 July 2015, http://www.ekathimerini.com/199435/article/ekathimerini/business/a-look-atthe-agreement-between-greece-eurozone 97. Marc Champion, “Greek Referendum Offer Is More Con than Democracy,” Ekathimerini, 28 June 2015, http://www.ekathimerini.com/198470/article/ekathimerini/comment/greek-referendum-offer-ismore-con-than-democracy 98. Kerin Hope, “First General Strike since Syriza Win Brings Greece to Standstill,” Financial Times, 12 November 2015, http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/0/69feb35e-893d-11e5–90def44762bf9896.html#axzz3t0ejiHpk 99. “Ex-minister Submits Evidence following Claims of Death Threats from SYRIZA Members,” Ekathimerini, 9 November 2015, http://www.ekathimerini.com/203272/arPage 251 →ticle/ekathimerini /news/ex-minister-submits-evidence-following-claims-of-death-threats-from-syriza-members 100. “Bomb Explodes at Greek Industry Federation,” Ekathimerini, 24 November 2015, http://www.ekathimerini.com/203721/article/ekathimerini/news/bomb-explodes-at-greek-industryfederation 101. George Bistis, “Golden Dawn or Democratic Sunset: The Rise of the Far Right in Greece,” Mediterranean Quarterly 24 (2013): 43–45. 102. Sofia Vasilopoulou and Daphne Halikiopoulou, The Golden Dawn’s “Nationalist Solution”: Explaining the Far Right in Greece (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). 103. Antonis A. Ellinas, “The Rise of Golden Dawn: The New Face of the Far Right in Greece,” South European Society and Politics 18 (2013): 549–50. 104. Alexandra Koronaiou and Alexandros Sakellariou, “Reflections on вЂGolden Dawn,’ Community Organizing, and Nationalist Solidarity: Helping (Only) Greeks,” Community Development Journal 48 (2013): 332–38. 105. Bistis, “Golden Dawn,” 50–51; “Greece’s Golden Dawn Party Describes Hitler as вЂGreat Personality,’” Guardian, 16 April 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/apr/16 /greece-golden-dawn-hitler; Vasilopoulou and Halikiopoulou, Golden Dawn’s “Nationalist Solution,” 57–58. 106. Bistis, “Golden Dawn,” 46; Alexandra Filindra, “What to Make of the Golden Dawn? The Crisis of Welfare Capitalism, Immigration, and a New Spring for the Extreme Right,” Migration and Citizenship: Newsletter of the American Political Science Association Organized Section on Migration and Citizenship 1 (2013): 58; “MPs from Greek Neo-Nazi Party Golden Dawn Arrested over Racist Attack, ” Guardian, 2 June 2012, http://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/jun/02/greek-neo-nazi-golden-dawn 107. Ellinas, “Rise of Golden Dawn,” 550, 560; Vasilopoulou and Halikiopoulou, Golden Dawn’s “Nationalist Solution.” 108. For instance, Human Rights Watch reported 104 cases of attacks against immigrants in the first eight months of 2013. See World Report, 2014: Events of 2013 (New York: Human Rights Watch, 2014), 440. 109. “Golden Dawn Arrests: вЂThe Government Should Have Acted Long Ago,’” Telegraph, 5 October 2013, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/greece/10358350/Golden-Dawn-arrestsThe-government-should-have-acted-long-ago.html 110. Harry van Versendaal, “The Rise and Rise of Golden Dawn,” Ekathimerini, 3 June 2014, http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite3_1_03/06/2014_ 540256 111. “Refugee Sea Arrivals in Greece This Year Approach 400,000,” UNHCR, 2 October 2015, http://www.unhcr.org/560e63626.html 112. Ellinas, “Rise of Golden Dawn,” 557–58. 113. Antonis A. Ellinas and Iasonas Lamprianou, “Political Trust in Extremis,” Comparative Politics 46 (2014): 231–50. For the grassroots organization of the party in ethnically heterogeneous districts of

Athens, see Elias Dinas, Vassiliki Georgiadou, Iannis Konstantinidis, and Lamprini Rori, “From Dusk to Dawn: Local Party Organization and Party Success of Right-wing Extremism,” Party Politics 22 (2016): 80–92. 114. Koronaiou and Sakellariou, “Reflections on вЂGolden Dawn,’” 336–37. 115. Xenakis, “A New Dawn?,” 443. Page 252 → 116. Quoted in Cas Mudde, “Politikos Extremismos—Ennoies, Theries kai Demokratia, ” in Syriza: E Diapsevse tes Laikistikes Iposheses, ed. Petros Papasarantopoulos (Athens: Epikentro, 2015), 155. 117. GD is not the only anti-democratic political party in parliament. The CP is also clearly anti-democratic, envisioning the creation of the “dictatorship of the proletariat.” As Pappas argues in Populism and Crisis Politics (107–13), the stance of IG toward liberal democracy is more ambigious, but this party also has a potential to become anti-systemic. The total vote share of GD and CP was 12.5 percent in the September 2015 elections, which would increase to 16.2 percent if IG were to be added. These numbers indicate the magnitute of anti-democratic preference among the electorate. In this chapter, I did not focus on the CP as an anti-democratic party, because its existence has been a constant since the transition to democracy in the 1970s. Instead, I analyzed what has changed with the economic crisis and its impact on democracy. 118. Panou Sakou. “Otan e Apognose Fernei Syghyse,” Kyriakatike Eleftherotypia, 21 April 2013, http://www.enet.gr/?i=issue.el.home&date=21/04/2013&id=359174. See also Bistis, “Golden Dawn, ” 51–52.

Chapter 6 1. Public opinion surveys conducted in the 1990s, for instance, show that confidence in the institutions of order, such as the military, was positively related to support for democracy but negatively correlated with political liberty. This suggests that for most Turkish citizens during this decade, “democracy” meant “unconsolidated democracy” and no attitudinal support for a liberal regime. See Mark Tessler and Ebru AltД±noДџlu, “Political Culture in Turkey: Connections among Attitudes toward Democracy, the Military, and Islam,” Democratization 11 (2004): 21–50. 2. Korkut Boratav, TГјrkiye Д°ktisat Tarihi (1908–2002) (Istanbul: Д°mge, 2003), 189. 3. SayД±larla TГјrkiye Ekonomisi GeliЕџmeler (1980–2001) Tahminler (2002–2005) (Ankara: Devlet Planlama TeЕџkilatД±, 2002), 12, 19, http://www.kalkinma.gov.tr/Lists/Yaynlar/Attachments/353 /1980–01.pdf 4. Ibid., 3; Ziya Г–niЕџ, “The Political Economy of Islamic Resurgence in Turkey: The Rise of the Welfare Party,” Third World Quarterly 18 (1997): 751. 5. Г–niЕџ, “Political Economy,” 751–53. For the market reforms of the 1980s and its economic consequences in the 1990s, see IЕџД±k Г–zel, State-Business Alliances and Economic Development: Turkey, Mexico and North Africa (London: Routledge, 2014), 50–60. 6. Haldun GГјlalp, “Globalization and Political Islam: The Social Bases of Turkey’s Welfare Party, ” International Journal of Middle East Studies 33 (2001): 435–41. 7. Menderes Г‡Д±nar, “İslami Ekonomi ve Refah’ın Adil Ekonomik DГјzeni,” Birikim 59 (1994): 21–32. 8. Kemali SaybaЕџД±lД±, “Kendi-Merkezli DavranД±Еџ,” in Onbir AylД±k Saltanat: Siyaset, Ekonomi ve DД±Еџ Politikada Refahyol DГ¶nemi, ed. Gencer Г–zcan (Istanbul: Boyut, 1998): 68–72. 9. Mehmet Ali Birand and Reyhan YД±ldД±z, Son Darbe: 28 Ећubat (Istanbul: DoДџan, 2012), 86–87. 10. Marvine Howe, Turkey Today: A Nation Divided over Islam’s Revival (Boulder: Westview, 2000), 122. The police officer had been implicated in the assassination of Г–zdemirPage 253 → SabancД±, a leading businessman and the brother of one of the founders of TГњSД°AD, SakД±p SabancД±, on 9 January 1996. Birand and YД±ldД±z, Son Darbe, 131. 11. SaybaЕџД±lД±, “Kendi-Merkezli,” 72–78. 12. Berna Turam, Between Islam and the State: The Politics of Engagement (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007), 48.

13. M. Hakan Yavuz, Secularism and Muslim Democracy in Turkey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 51. 14. Ezel Akay, A Call to End Corruption: One Minute of Darkness for Constant Light, Tactical Notebook Series (Minneapolis: New Tactics Project of the Center for Victims of Torture, 2003), 7. 15. Kemali SaybaЕџД±lД±, “GiriЕџ,” in Г–zcan, Onbir AylД±k Saltanat, 31–32. 16. According to several observers, the WP was indeed a mainstream party. The party’s policies during the coalition government and its accommodationist behavior after the February intervention suggest that it was probably not as radical as it was claimed to be. That there is question over whether or not the party was radical might explain the military generals’ hesitance to stage an overt coup with a longer duration. On the accord between democracy and the WP, see Metin Heper, “Islam and Democracy in Turkey: Toward a Reconciliation?,” Middle East Journal 51 (1997): 32–45. 17. For the foreign policy of the coalition government, see Gencer Г–zcan, “Yalan DГјnyaya Sanal Politikalar,” in Г–zcan, Onbir AylД±k Saltanat, 179–200. 18. Kemali SaybaЕџД±lД±, “KuЕџatma,” and Д°zettin Г–nder, “Ekonomiye BakД±Еџ,” in Г–zcan, Onbir AylД±k Saltanat, 50–51, 128–30. 19. Kemali SaybaЕџД±lД±, “Siyasal Sistem BunalД±mД±,” in Г–zcan, Onbir AylД±k Saltanat, 90. 20. Metin Heper and Aylin GГјney, “The Military and the Consolidation of Democracy: The Recent Turkish Experience,” Armed Forces and Society 26 (2000): 643; Birand and YД±ldД±z, Son Darbe, 180–81. 21. Howe, Turkey Today, 141. 22. Heper and GГјney, “Military,” 645–46. 23. Г–zel, State-Business Alliances, 80. 24. Howe, Turkey Today, 187–88. 25. Personal interviews by the author with a journalist who closely followed the events in Ankara at the time and who represented one of the most circulated mainstream dailies, Istanbul, 25 May and 28 June 2011. 26. Howe, Turkey Today, 139–43. 27. Some of the recommendations were not implemented. For instance, the recommendation to crack down on Sufi religious orders was glossed over, and the recommendation to restrict licensing of short- and longbarrel firearms was ignored. 28. Soli Г–zel, “After the Tsunami,” Journal of Democracy 14 (2003): 88. There was no reaction from the WP voters, unlike, for instance, in Algeria, where the supporters of Islamic Salvation Front began an insurrection against the military intervention. See Turam, Between Islam and the State, 49. 29. For the influence of the EU on the abolishment of the death penalty, see Ian Manners, “Normative Power Europe: A Contradiction in Terms,” Journal of Common Market Studies 40 (2002): 235–58. 30. Michael M. Gunher, “The Continuing Kurdish Problem in Turkey after Г–calan’s Capture,” Third World Quarterly 21 (2000): 849–69. 31. The initial reforms in civil-military relations, described below, were due in no Page 254 →small part to the absence of armed conflict from 1999 until the 2004 renewal of PKK activities. See Д°smet AkГ§a and Evren Balta-Paker, “Beyond Military Tutelage? Turkish Military Politics and the AKP Government,” in Debating Security in Turkey: Challenges and Changes in the Twenty-First Century, ed. Ebru CananSokullu (Lanham: Lexington Books, 2013), 77–92. 32. Paul Kubicek, “The Earthquake, Europe, and Prospects for Political Change in Turkey,” Middle East Review of International Affairs 5 (2001): 37–40; Rita Jalali, “Civil Society and the State: Turkey after the Earthquake,” Disasters 26 (2002): 120–39. 33. OECD Statistics on Consumer Prices (MEI), “Annual Inflation, Percentage Change on the Same Period of the Previous Year,” http://stats.oecd.org/index.aspx?queryid=22519# 34. Ziya Г–niЕџ, “Domestic Politics versus Global Dynamics: Towards a Political Economy of the 2000 and 2001 Financial Crisis in Turkey,” Turkish Studies 4 (2003): 6. 35. In Greece, public employees’ wages made up around 27 percent of overall government spending in 2012; see John Sfakianakis, “The Cost of Protecting Greece’s Public Sector,” New York Times, 10 October 2012, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/11/opinion/the-cost-of-protecting-greeces-publicsector.html. The data on the Turkish state budget is from the website of the Ministry of Finance, General

Directorate of Budget and Finance Control, http://www.bumko.gov.tr/TR,160/konsolide-butcebuyuklukleri-program-butce-siniflandirm-.html 36. Social security expenses are relatively low in Turkey: they increased from 2 percent of the budget to 10 percent in 1999 but averaged around 5 percent during the decade (Ministry of Finance, General Directorate of Budget and Finance Control, http://www.bumko.gov.tr/TR,160/konsolide-butce-buyuklukleri-programbutce-siniflandirm-.html). 37. “Financial and Economic Data Relating to NATO Defence—Defence Expenditures of NATO Countries (1980–2000),” 5 December 2000, 5, http://www.nato.int/nato_static_fl2014/assets/pdf /pdf_2000_12/20100614_p00-107e.pdf 38. Ministry of Finance, General Directorate of Budget and Finance Control, http://www.bumko.gov.tr/TR, 4461/butce-gider-gelir-gerceklesmeleri-1924-2012.html 39. Ahmet ErtuДџrul and ErinГ§ Yeldan, “On the Structural Weaknesses of the Post-1999 Turkish Disinflation Program,” Turkish Studies 4 (2003): 55. 40. Ahmet ErtuДџrul and Faruk SelГ§uk, “A Brief Account of the Turkish Economy, 1980–2000, ” Russian and East European Finance and Trade 37 (2001): 18. 41. ErtuДџrul and Yeldan, “Structural Weaknesses,” 60–61. 42. ErtuДџrul and SelГ§uk, “Brief Account,” 24. 43. ErtuДџrul and Yeldan, “Structural Weaknesses,” 60. 44. Unless otherwise noted, the data in this and the following two paragraphs was gathered from Ercan Uygur, “Krizden Krize TГјrkiye: 2000 KasД±m ve 2011 Ећubat Krizleri,” TГјrkiye Ekonomi Kurumu TartД±Еџma Metni No: 2001/1 (Ankara: TГјrkiye Ekonomi Kurumu, 2001). 45. OECD Statistics on Balance of Payments (MEI), “Current Account Balance as a % of GDP,” http://stats.oecd.org/Index.aspx?DataSetCode=MEI_BOP# 46. Г–niЕџ, “Domestic Politics,” 10–12. 47. Hakan TunГ§, “The Lost Gamble: The 2000 and 2001 Turkish Financial Crises in Comparative Perspective,” Turkish Studies 4 (2003): 45. 48. Ibid., 47. Page 255 → 49. “GDP Growth (annual %),” http://data.worldbank.org/indicator /NY.GDP.MKTP.KD.ZG?page=2; “Kurulan ve Kapanan Ећirket ve Kooperatif SayД±sД±,” Turkish Statistical Institute, http://www.tuik.gov.tr/PreTablo.do?alt_id=1080 50. “24 Banka Tarihe KarД±ЕџtД±,” Radikal, 14 October 2002, http://www.radikal.com.tr /haber.php?haberno=53198 51. “Unemployment, Total (% of total labor force) (modeled ILO estimate),” http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SL.UEM.TOTL.ZS?page=2 52. Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index, http://www.transparency.org/research/cpi/. As explained in chapter 5, scores range from 0 (highly corrupt) to 10 (highly clean). 53. GГјlten Kazgan, TГјrkiye Ekonomisinde Krizler (1929–2001): “Ekonomi Politik” AГ§Д±sД±ndan Bir Д°rdeleme (Istanbul: Д°stanbul Bilgi Гњniversitesi, 2005), 249–50. 54. For the origins, ideology, and organization of the party, see Yavuz, Secularism and Muslim Democracy. 55. Ergun Г–zbudun, “From Political Islam to Conservative Democracy: The Case of the Justice and Development Party in Turkey,” South European Society and Politics 11 (2006): 544–50. 56. For the instrumental reasons behind the party’s pro-EU reform agenda, see Beken SaatГ§ioДџlu, “Unpacking the Compliance Puzzle: The Case of Turkey’s AKP under EU Conditionality,” KFG Working Paper 14, Freie Universitat, Berlin, 2010); Evangelia Axiarlis, Political Islam and the Secular State in Turkey: Democracy, Reform and the Justice and Development Party (London: I. B. Tauris, 2014), 137–41. 57. Ziya Г–niЕџ and E. Fuat Keyman, “A New Path Emerges,” Journal of Democracy 14 (2003): 99–100. 58. Г–zel, “After the Tsunami,” 91. 59. Ећebnem GГјmüşçü, “Class, Status, and Party: The Changing Face of Political Islam in Turkey and Egypt,” Comparative Political Studies 43 (2010): 835–61. 60. For the GГјlen movement’s rise to prominence, activities, and political, economic, and religious outlook, see Turam, Between Islam and the State; Joshua D. Hendrick, Market Islam in Turkey and the

World (New York: New York University Press, 2013); M. Hakan Yavuz, Toward an Islamic Enlightenment: The GГјlen Movement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 61. Ahmet T. Kuru, “Changing Perspectives on Islamism and Secularism in Turkey: The GГјlen Movement and the AK Party,” in Muslim World in Transition: Contributions of the GГјlen Movement, ed. Д°hsan Yilmaz (London: Leeds Metropolitan University Press), 140–51. For the activities of TUSKON, see Altay AtlД±, “Businessmen as Diplomats: The Role of Business Associations in Turkey’s Foreign Economic Policy,” Insight Turkey 13 (2011): 109–28. 62. The data was gathered from Erdal Tanas KaragГ¶l, AK Parti DГ¶nemi TГјrkiye Ekonomisi (Ankara: SETA, 2013). 63. For an official summary of the reforms, see Ministry of European Union Affairs, Siyasi Reformlar-I (Ankara: T.C. Avrupa BirliДџi BakanlД±ДџД±, n.d.), http://www.ab.gov.tr/files/rehber/04_rehber.pdf. For the text of the amendments, see Prime Ministry, General Secretariat for EU Affairs, Avrupa BirliДџi Uyum Yasa Paketleri (Ankara: T.C. BaЕџbakanlД±k Avrupa BirliДџi Genel SekreterliДџi, 2007), http://www.ab.gov.tr/files/pub/abuyp.pdf. For an overview, see Meltem MГјftГјler BaГ§, “Turkey’s Political Reforms and the Impact of the European Union,” South European Society and Politics 10 (2005): 21–29. Page 256 → 64. For more details on these amendments, see Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Impact of EU-Driven Reforms on the Political Autonomy of the Turkish Military,” South European Society and Politics 16 (2011): 293–308. 65. Yaprak GГјrsoy, “The Changing Role of the Military in Turkish Politics: Democratization through Coup Plots?,” Democratization 19 (2012): 744–46. 66. Menderes Г‡Д±nar and Г‡aДџkan SayД±n, “Reproducing the Paradigm of Democracy in Turkey: Parochial Democratization in the Decade of Justice and Development Party,” Turkish Studies 15 (2014): 365–85. 67. For the emergence of a one-party dominant system in Turkey, see Sabri SayarД±, “Towards a New Turkish Party System?,” Turkish Studies 8 (2007): 197–210; Ali Г‡arkoДџlu, “Turkey’s 2011 General Elections: Towards a Dominant Party System?” Insight Turkey 13 (2011): 43–62; Ећebnem GГјmüşçü, “The Emerging Predominant Party System in Turkey,” Government and Opposition 48 (2013): 223–44. 68. Yaprak GГјrsoy, “Turkish Public Opinion on the Coup Allegations: Implications for Democratization,” Political Science Quarterly 130 (2015): 103–32. 69. Ergun Г–zbudun, “AKP at the Crossroads: ErdoДџan’s Majoritarian Drift,” South European Society and Politics 19 (2014): 156. 70. Many factors explain the enduring success of the party at the ballot box; however, economic growth despite the world crisis was one of the reasons why the JDP could claim the support of half of the electorate. According to Г‡arkoДџlu, assessments of positive economic performance were significant among AKP voters in both 2007 and 2011 elections, but their influence in the latter elections declined, replaced by ideological and party commitment. See Ali Г‡arkoДџlu, “Economic Evaluations vs. Ideology: Diagnosing the Sources of Electoral Change in Turkey, 2002–2011,” Electoral Studies 31 (2012): 513–21. 71. YД±lmaz EnsaroДџlu, “Turkey’s Kurdish Question and the Peace Process,” Insight Turkey 15 (2013): 7–17. 72. Michael M. Gunter, “The Turkish-Kurdish Peace Process Stalled in Neutral,” Insight Turkey 16 (2014): 19–26. 73. Tim Arango, “Turkish Liberals Turn Their Backs on Erdogan,” New York Times, 19 June 2013, http://www.nytimes.com/2013/06/20/world/europe/turkish-liberals-turn-their-backs-on-erdogan.html?_r=0 74. “ErdoДџan’dan Г–nemli AГ§Д±klamalar,” HГјrriyet, 24 January 2014, http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/gundem/25644859.asp 75. “ErdoДџan TГњSД°AD YД°K ToplantД±sД±nda KonuЕџtu,” HГјrriyet, 18 September 2014, http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/gundem/27229994.asp 76. One of the most notable differences was in matters of foreign policy. GГјlen advocated continuing cordial relations with Israel and the United States, while ErdoДџan took a more hostile attitude toward Turkey’s past allies. For a summary of the differences between the GГјlen movement and the JDP, see

RuЕџen Г‡akД±r, “ErdoДџan-GГјlen Д°liЕџkisi DГјn BugГјn YarД±n-3: вЂYeni TГјr Д°ktidar SavaЕџları’nД±n Д°lk Г‡arpД±cД± Г–rneДџi,” Vatan, 19 February 2012. 77. Г–zbudun, “AKP at the Crossroads,” 158–60. 78. “Press Freedom Index, 2013,” Reporters without Borders, http://en.rsf.org/press-freedom-index2013,1054.html 79. “Turkey-Freedom in the World 2013,” Freedom House, http://www.freedomhouse.org/report /freedom-world/2013/turkey#.VFolfjSsUaA 80. Although Gezi protestors were characterized as middle class, their demands and Page 257 →social status (as wage-earning blue-collar and white-collar workers, as well as students who face unemployment in the future, demonstrating against the economic and political system) make the uprising a collective action organized by and representing the lower classes. See Efe Can GГјrcan and Efe Peker, “A Class Analytic Approach to the Gezi Park Events: Challenging the вЂMiddle Class’ Myth,” Capital and Class 39 (2015): 321–43. In the present study, I use the term lower class to denote all nonelite groups, including the middle classes (as explained in chapter 1). 81. For more information on the protests, see Umut Г–zkД±rД±mlД±, ed., The Making of a Protest Movement in Turkey: #Occupygezi (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). 82. Д°lay Romain Г–rs and Г–mer Turan, “The Manner of Contention: Pluralism at Gezi,” Philosophy and Social Criticism 41 (2015): 453–63. 83. Constanze Letsch, “A Year after the Protests, Gezi Park Nurtures the Seeds of a New Turkey,” Guardian, 29 May 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/may/29/gezi-park-year-after-protestsseeds-new-turkey 84. As the honorary chief public prosecutor of the court of cassation suggested, if a certain number of parliamentarians demand it, they could start the process leading to the trial of ErdoДџan in the Supreme Court. See “YГјce Divan iГ§in 55 Vekil Yeter,” Cumhuriyet, 6 March 2014, http://www.cumhuriyet.com.tr/haber/siyaset/48037/Yuce_divan_icin_55_vekil_yeter.html 85. David Kenner, “Turkey’s War Within,” Foreign Policy, 17 August 2015, https://foreignpolicy.com/2015/08/17/turkeys-war-within-kurds-election-erdogan-pkk/? utm_content=buffer75dbb&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer 86. “As It Happened: Nov 1 General Elections,” HГјrriyet Daily News, 1 November 2015, http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/as-it-happened-nov-1-general-elections.aspx? PageID=238&NID=90533&NewsCatID=338

Chapter 7 1. The data is drawn from “Coups d’État, 1946–2014,” Center for Systemic Peace, INSCR Data Page, http://www.systemicpeace.org/inscrdata.html. That source defines a coup more generally than this book does. I counted the clear cases that were headed by active or former officers. The numbers involving but not led by the military would be higher. 2. The recent interventions in Thailand and Egypt occurred in contexts where the military was already dominant. This supremacy of the military over society was due to various reasons, including decades of US aid and arms supplies to the armed forces. The choice of cases where the military is already dominant holds constant a significant element determining the costs of suppression. Therefore, the cases analyzed in this chapter do not examine this factor in detail but focus on what varies from one case to another, that is, threat perceptions, elite support, and military unity. 3. “Thailand Army Chief Confirms Military Coup and Suspends Constitution,” Guardian, 22 May 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/may/22/thailand-army-chief-announces-military-coup 4. Zoltan Barany, “Exits from Military Rule: Lessons for Burma,” Journal of Democracy 26 (2015): 90–92. Page 258 → 5. Article 7 of the 1997 constitution gave the king the power to intervene in politics, by “returning power to the king” if the constitution was undermined. See Michael K. Connors, “Article of Faith: The Failure of Royal Liberalism in Thailand,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 38 (2008): 148–51.

6. Michael J. Montesano, “Thailand in 2001: Learning to Live with Thaksin?” Asian Survey 42 (2002): 92–93; Alex M. Mutebi, “Thailand in 2002: Political Consolidation and Economic Uncertainties,” Asian Survey 43 (2003): 108–9; Ukrist Pathmanand, “A Different Coup d’État?,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 38 (2008): 127; Barany, “Exits from Military Rule, ” 92. 7. Paul Chambers, “Understanding Civil-Military Relations Today: The Case of Thailand with Implications for Emerging Democracies in Asia,” Asia-Pacific Social Science Review 10 (2010): 1–24. 8. On the initial response of the government and the military’s involvement in repressing the insurgency, see Robert B. Albritton, “Thailand in 2004: The вЂCrisis in the South,’” Asian Survey 45 (2005): 166–70; Albritton, “Thailand in 2005: The Struggle for Democratic Consolidation, ” Asian Survey 46 (2006): 143–45. On the central place of this issue among the reasons for the coup, see James Ockey, “Thailand in 2006: Retreat to Military Rule,” Asian Survey 47 (2007): 136–37. 9. Ukrist, “Different Coup d’État?,” 128–29. 10. Kevin Hewison, “A Book, the King, and the 2006 Coup,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 38 (2008): 190–211. 11. Alex M. Mutebi, “Thailand’s Independent Agencies under Thaksin: Relentless Gridlock and Uncertainty,” in Southeast Asian Affairs, 2006, ed. Daljit Singh and Larraine C. Salazar (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2006), 303–21. 12. Montesano, “Thailand in 2001,” 92; Mutebi, “Thailand in 2002,” 102–4; Ockey, “Thailand in 2006,” 134–36. 13. Kevin Hewison, “Thailand: The Lessons of Protest,” Journal of Critical Perspectives on Asia 50 (2014): 10. 14. On the similarity between Turkish and Thai traditional elites in thinking that the uneducated poor are gullible and in justifying their undemocratic practices with notions of “true democracy,” see AyЕџe Zarakol, “Revisiting the Second Image Reversed: Lessons from Turkey and Thailand,” International Studies Quarterly 57 (2013): 150–62. 15. For the TLT’s campaign promises in 2001, see Montesano, “Thailand in 2001,” 91, 94–95. On the problems agricultural and health policies led to, see Oliver Pye and Wolfram Schaffar, “The 2006 Anti-Thaksin Movement in Thailand: An Analysis,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 38 (2008): 47–51. 16. Pasuk Phongpaichit and Chris Baker, “Thaksin’s Populism,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 38 (2008): 67. 17. Ukrist, “Different Coup d’État?,” 133–36. 18. On the CPB, see Porphant Ouyyanont, “The Crown Property Bureau in Thailand and the Crisis of 1997,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 38 (2008): 166–89. 19. Hewison, “Book,” 205–6. 20. Duncan McCargo and Ukrist Pathmanand, The Thaksinization of Thailand (Copenhagen: Nordic Institute of Asian Studies, 2005), 23–69, 209–47. 21. Ukrist, “Different Coup d’État?,” 130–33. 22. Thaksin was also criticized for silencing the press and using his influence in the Page 259 →media to cover up stories against him. See, for instance, Mutebi, “Thailand in 2002,” 104–6. 23. Pye and Schaffar, “2006 Anti-Thaksin Movement,” 40–44. 24. Connors, “Article of Faith,” 151–61.

Page 266 →Page 267 →

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Page 290 →Reports and Papers Note: All URLs listed in the following sections were accessible as of 5 December 2015 with exceptions noted.

Abul-Magd, Zeinab. Egypt’s Adaptable Officers: Power, Business, and Discontent. ISPI Analysis 265. July 2014. http://www.ispionline.it/sites/default/files/pubblicazioni/analysis_265__2014.pdf Akay, Ezel. A Call to End Corruption: One Minute of Darkness for Constant Light. Tactical Notebook Series. Minneapolis: New Tactics Project of the Center for Victims of Torture, 2003. Anadiarthroseis sten Ellada: Oi Apergies to 2011. Athens: Institouto Ergasias GSEE, 2012. Artavanis, Nikolaos, Adair Morse, and Margarita Tsoutsoura. Tax Evasion across Industries: Soft Credit Evidence from Greece. Chicago Booth Paper 12-25. June 2012. https://www.chicagobooth.edu/blogs/informingreform/docs /taxevasion.pdf Borreca, Raffaele. “Political Crisis in Greece and Italy: A Comparative Analysis of SYRIZA and 5 Stars Movement.” Paper presented at the Political Studies Association 2014 Conference, Manchester, 14–16 April 2014. Brown, Nathan, and Michele Dunne. “Egypt’s Draft Constitution Rewards the Military and Judiciary.” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, December 2013. http://carnegieendowment.org/2013/12/04/egypt-sdraft-constitution-rewards-military-and-judiciary Chams El-Dine, ChГ©rine. Fragile Alliances in Egypt’s Post-Revolutionary Order: The Military and Its Partners. SWP Comments. Berlin: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik, 2014. “Constitution of the Kingdom of Thailand, Unofficial Translation.” Student Weekly. http://www.studentweekly.com/pdf/200415-constitution-en.pdf Cook, Steven A. “The Turkish Model for Egypt? Beware of False Analogies.” Council on Foreign Relations, 4 February 2011. http://blogs.cfr.org/cook/2011/02/04/the-turkish-model-for-egypt-beware-of-falseanalogies/ “A Coup Ordained? Thailand’s Prospects for Stability.” Asia Report 263. Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2014. “Descent into Chaos: Thailand’s 2010 Red Shirt Protests and the Government Crackdown.” Human Rights Watch, 3 May 2011. https://www.hrw.org/report/2011/05/03/descent-chaos/thailands-2010-red-shirtprotests-and-government-crackdown Eurofound Yearbook, 2013: Living and Working in Europe. Luxemburg: Publications Office of the European Union, 2014. Exadaktylos, Theofanis, and Nikolaos Zahariadis. Policy Implementation and Political Trust: Greece in the Age of Austerity. GreeSE Paper 65. December 2012. http://www.lse.ac.uk/europeanInstitute/research/hellenicObservatory /CMS%20pdf/Publications/GreeSE/GreeSE-No65.pdf Gemenis, Kostas, and Roula Nezi. “The 2011 Political Parties Expert Survey in Greece.” University of Twente Report, January 2012. Greece: Staff Report on Request for Stand-By Arrangement. IMF Country Report 10/110 (Washington, DC: International Monetary Fund, 2010). http://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/scr/2010/cr10110.pdf Janssen, Ronald. “The Real Wages in the Eurozone: Not a Double but a Continuing Page 291 →Dip.” Social Europe Journal. http://www.social-europe.eu/2013/05/real-wages-in-the-eurozone-not-a-double-but-acontinuing-dip/ Mansour, Sherif. “On the Divide: Press Freedom at Risk in Egypt.” Committee to Protect Journalists, 14 August 2013. https://cpj.org/reports/2013/08/on-divide-egypt-press-freedom-morsi.php

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Sfakianakis, John. “The Cost of Protecting Greece’s Public Sector.” New York Times, 10 October 2012. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/11/opinion/the-cost-of-protecting-greeces-public-sector.html Page 295 →Stangos, Angelos. “The Cost of Protests.” Ekathimerini, 9 May 2014. http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite3_1_09/05/2014_539590 “Thailand Army Chief Confirms Military Coup and Suspends Constitution.” Guardian, 22 May 2014. http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/may/22/thailand-army-chief-announces-military-coup “Thailand Issues Thaksin Arrest Warrant over Bangkok Violence.” Guardian, 14 April 2009. http://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/apr/14/thaksin-shinawatra-arrest-warrant “Thailand’s Controversial Draft Constitution Explained.” BBC News, 6 September 2015. http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-34149522 “Thailand—Time for the West to Get Tough on Prayuth Chan-ocha.” Guardian, 2 April 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/02/thailand-west-get-tough-prayuth-chan-ocha-junta-bangkok “Thaksin Flees Thailand Corruption Trial and Returns to Exile in Britain.” Guardian, 11 August 2008. http://www.theguardian.com/world/2008/aug/11/thailand “To Istorikon Tou Kinematos.” Eleftheron Vema, 26 June 1925. “TSK, Darbe GiriЕџimine KatД±lan Personel SayД±sД±nД± AГ§Д±kladД±.” NTV, 27 July 2016. Accessed 9 August 2016. http://www.ntv.com.tr/turkiye/tsk-darbe-girisimine-katilan-personel-sayisini-acikladi, ns92udU75k2vw-1OlEK4gQ “24 Banka Tarihe KarД±ЕџtД±.” Radikal, 14 October 2002. http://www.radikal.com.tr/haber.php? haberno=53198 Versendaal, Harry van. “The Rise and Rise of Golden Dawn.” Ekathimerini, 3 June 2014. http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite3_1_03/06/2014_540256 Warangkana Chomchuen. “Thai Court Rules against Constitution Amendment.” Wall Street Journal, 20 November 2013. http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052702303653004579209584204486364 “YГјce Divan iГ§in 55 Vekil Yeter.” Cumhuriyet, 6 March 2014. http://www.cumhuriyet.com.tr/haber /siyaset/48037/Yuce_divan_icin_55_vekil_yeter.html

Websites Used for Statistical and Official Data Detailed links and indicators I used are provided with citations in the notes. Center for Systemic Peace, Integrated Network for Societal Conflict Research (INSCR). http://www.systemicpeace.org/inscrdata.html European Central Bank. http://sdw.ecb.europa.eu/ European Commission, Eurostat. http://ec.europa.eu/eurostat Freedom House. https://freedomhouse.org/ Global Terrorism Database. http://www.start.umd.edu/gtd/ Greek Ministry of Interior, Election Results. http://ekloges.ypes.gr/

Hellenic [Greek] Parliament, Election Results. http://www.hellenicparliament.gr/Vouli-ton-Ellinon/To-Politevma /Ekloges/Eklogika-apotelesmata-New/#C International Labor Organization. http://laborsta.ilo.org/ North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). http://www.nato.int/ Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD). http://stats.oecd.org/ Page 296 →Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index. http://www.transparency.org/research/cpi/ Turkish Ministry for EU Affairs. http://www.ab.gov.tr/ Turkish Ministry of Finance, General Directorate of Budget and Finance Control. http://www.bumko.gov.tr/ Turkish Official Gazette. http://www.resmigazete.gov.tr/default.aspx# Turkish Statistical Institute. http://www.tuik.gov.tr/ Turkish Supreme Election Board. http://www.ysk.gov.tr/ World Bank. http://databank.worldbank.org/data/

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Index Note: Page numbers in italics indicate table references. 1923 regime (Turkey), 12, 77–83 1936 regime (Greece), 12, 16, 19, 47, 53, 56, 62–68, 76, 128, 158, 188, 223n39, 230n70. See also 4th of August regime; Metaxas regime 1967 regime (Greece), 1–2, 12, 18–19, 42–43, 46, 53, 70–76, 106, 110–13, 158, 248n70. See also colonels’ junta 2007 e-memorandum (Turkey), 151, 197 4th of August regime (Greece), 12, 16, 19, 47, 53, 56, 62–68, 76, 128, 158, 188, 223n39, 230n70. See also 1936 regime; Metaxas regime 6th of April Youth Movement, 171 Abhisit Vejjajiva, 166 Acemoglu, Daron, 25–26, 222n29, 226n15 Adana, 79, 85, 89, 94 Aegean, 79, 82, 85–86; islands, 53–54, 112 Ağar, Mehmet, 136 agricultural production, 15, 85, 89 Akar, Hulusi, 197 al-Ahzar, 181 al-Baradei, Mohamed, 171, 181 Alexander, Gerard, 24, 37, 39 Alican, Ekrem, 92 alliances, 3, 13, 24, 45, 47, 229n56 al-Nour Party, 181 anarchy, 1, 33, 73, 101, 102–4, 130 Ankara, 77–78, 91, 135, 157, 195–96 Ankara Chamber of Industry (ASO), 102 Anti-Coup Alliance (Egypt), 179 Arınç, Bülent, 146

arms: armaments, 13, 55, 66, 86, 103–4, 115, 174 (see also weapons); embargo, 103; supplies, 69, 103, 115, 187, 257n2 army, 1, 36, 74, 78, 82, 98, 174; definition of, 223n40; purges in the, 92; Russian, 227n34; standing, 91; strengthening of, 41, 54–55, 61, 66, 103 artisans, 11, 147 Asia Minor, 54, 60, 79, 94, 96 Aspida affair, 73 Association of Retired Officers of the Revolution, 91 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), 166 AtatГјrk airport, 196 AtatГјrk, Mustafa Kemal, 78, 81–83, 85 authoritarianism: bureaucratic, 22–23; consolidated, 3, 10–11, 27, 31–32, 46, 62–63, 76, 83, 223n34; single-party, 9–10, 12, 19, 77–87, 223n41 autonomy of the military, 33, 41, 58, 70, 72, 82–83, 88, 111, 133, 177, 186; definition of, 8, 222n27; professional, 14, 222n27; decreasing, 27, 73, 102, 149–50. See also under military: autonomy Axis powers, 68 ayans, 79 Aydemir, Talat, 92–93 Page 298 →bailout, 119, 121–23, 126–27, 129, 192, 248n61 balance of power, 24–25, 43, 76, 187, 194 Balkans, 54, 61 Balyoz, 152, 197, 199 Bangkok, 162, 163, 164, 166, 167 Bank of Greece, 57, 61, 205 Banking Regulation and Supervision Agency, 144 banking sector, 133, 143–45 BaЕџbuДџ, Д°lker, 152 basic preferences, 13–18, 37 Batur, Muhsin, 97 Bavarian regency, 53 Bayar, Celal, 85–86

Bayındırbank, 144 Black May, 159 Boix, Carles, 24–26 Bosnia, 136 bourgeoisie, 16, 56, 61, 63, 224n47, 233n19 Britain, 41, 68–69 budget: defense, 115, 174; deficit, 89, 116–18, 143–44, 149; military, 14, 33, 35, 111, 164 Bulgaria, 61, 117, 247n39 bureaucracy, 7, 55, 94, 100, 105, 114–16, 133, 147, 161, 169 bureaucratic authoritarianism, 22–23. See also authoritarianism Business Bank (of Turkey), 85 businesspeople, 19, 51, 58, 64, 72, 88, 95, 96, 100, 108, 160, 162, 187, 189, 224n47, 225n66; as actors, 15–18; and the economy, 61, 89–90, 94, 149; in Egypt, 171–75, 178–79, 181, 261n64; interviews with, 75–76, 98, 101–2, 104, 110–11, 201–17; and the JDP, 147, 149, 153; and the Metaxas regime, 67; and the 1967 regime, 75; and the 1971 coup, 98; and the 1980 coup, 102–5; and the 1997 coup, 137–39, 157; in the Ottoman Empire, 79; as part of a coalition, 29, 43–45, 57, 59–60; and PASOK, 110–11; perceptions of threat for, 36–37; power of, 56, 69, 77; and the Republican People’s Party, 84–86; in Thailand, 162–63, 166 Cairo, 68–69, 171, 180 Çakmak, Fevzi, 83 capital: controls, 126; mobility, 24; tax, 86, 94, 162 capital punishment, 50, 57, 60, 74, 82, 92, 97, 140, 142, 149, 180 capitalism, 24–25, 43, 99, 147 caretaker government, 73, 93, 95, 97–98 censorship, 70, 90 Center Union (CU), 71–75, 130 Central Security Forces (CSF), 171, 173 Chatuchak Park, 163 Chief of the General Staff: in Greece, 57, 63, 66, 112; in Turkey, 83, 91–93, 97, 103–4, 138, 150, 152, 197 Chios, 60 Çiller, Tansu, 135–37 civil disobedience, 83, 122, 125

Civil Initiative group, 138 Civil Servants Confederation, 122 civil society, 15, 23, 41, 138, 142, 157, 162, 171, 175, 179, 199 civil war, 25, 179, 194, 198–200; in Greece, 42–43, 53, 68–69, 72, 76, 107, 109, 111 civilian oversight of the military, 2, 82, 199. See also democratic control civil-military relations, 142, 149, 186, 199, 230n64, 253n31 closed-shop professions, 116 coalition government, 59, 62, 65, 89, 100, 106, 123–25, 132–57, 166, 253n16 Coalition of the Radical Left (SYRIZA), 2, 106, 113, 114, 121–31, 192, 205 Cold War, 7, 38, 42, 72, 88, 95 collective action, 11, 12, 31, 47, 171, 256n80; problem, 15 colonels’ junta (Greece), 1–2, 12, 18–19, 42–43, 46, 53, 70–76, 106, 110–13, 158, 248n70. See also 1967 regime commercial sector, 14, 103 Committee of Union and Progress (CUP), 78 communism, 65–69, 105–7, 250n91; communist threat, 1, 66, 74, 237n101; communists, 16, 38, 64, 65, 68, 107, 108, 125 Communist Party of Greece (CP), 63, 64, Page 299 →114, 124; Communist Party of Greece-Interior (CP-In), 107 comparative historical research, 4 Confederation of Trade Unions of Turkey (TГњRK–İŞ), 96, 137–38 Confederation of Turkish Employer Associations (TД°SK), 102, 104, 134, 138 Confederation of Turkish Tradesmen and Craftsmen (TESK), 138 conscription, 55, 171, 174 consolidated: definition of, 7–8, 10–11; authoritarian regime, 3, 10–11, 27, 31–32, 46, 62–63, 76, 83, 223n34; democracy, 4, 31, 47, 51–52, 53, 107, 108, 189–90, 192–93 conspiracy, 42, 45–46, 48–50, 70, 72, 97, 112, 195–98, 235n66 constituent assembly, 60, 176–77 constitution, 8, 17, 47, 184–85; interim, 168, 262n84 —in EGYPT, 175–81 —in GREECE, 54, 56, 61–62, 70, 107, 109, 113 —in THAILAND, 159–60, 164, 167–69

—in TURKEY, 92–94, 96–97, 103, 137, 140, 149, 151, 153, 199 Constitution Drafting Committee, 168 Constitutional Court: in Thailand, 166; in Turkey, 139, 141, 146, 151–52 constitutional monarchy, 54, 159 construction sector, 75, 142, 154, 174 consumer goods, 71, 85 contentious action, 3, 11, 12, 31, 36, 81, 105, 182 contentious politics, 11, 12, 28, 38, 47, 74, 84, 157, 167, 248n70 Coptic patriarchy, 181 corporate: interests of the military, 13, 35, 73, 83, 111, 174, 199, 224n42, 227n30, 231n77; professionalism, 14 corruption: in Egypt, 178; in Greece, 55, 75, 115–16, 121–22; in Thailand, 161, 162, 164; in Turkey, 94, 134, 135–36, 139, 145, 147, 154–57 costs of suppression, 3, 4, 60, 65, 74, 84, 92–93, 112, 150–51, 156, 186, 198–99, 231n78; definition of, 21, 28–29; determinants of the, 40–46; in the literature, 22–27; and regime consolidation, 46–50; and regime outcomes, 29–32 costs of toleration, 3, 4, 18, 21 42, 45, 47–50, 56, 59, 63, 74, 149, 156–58, 199; components of the, 32–37; definition of, 21, 27–29; in the literature, 22–27; and regime outcomes, 29–32; and regime preferences, 37–40 Council of National Salvation, 76 countercoup, 9, 40, 45, 70, 74, 103, 198 coup d’état, 2–4, 21, 25–27, 31, 32, 38–39, 43, 45, 47, 49–50, 187–188, 190, 192; definition of, 8–10; causes of, 184–87; failed, 4, 5, 19, 46, 48, 52, 59, 89, 93, 159, 231n85; fragile, 4, 9, 19, 52, 59, 89, 92, 95, 160, 164, 173, 179–80, 198; plotters, 91, 152, 195–97; postmodern, 134, 138–39, 151, 153; revolutionary, 96; successful, 3, 19, 52, 60, 100, 134 —EGYPT: of 1952 (Free Officers), 171, 184; of 2011, 20, 158, 169–71, 172–75, 179, 185, 189 —GREECE: of 1909, 54–57, 184; of 1922, 12, 13, 19, 50, 57, 58–59, 60, 62; of 1925, 12, 13, 50, 58–59, 61–62, 180, 187; of 1933, 12, 13, 42, 46, 57, 62; of 1935, 12, 13, 57, 58, 62–63, 65–66 —THAILAND: of 2006, 20, 158–60, 160, 163–64, 165, 167–69, 184–85 —TURKEY: of 1960, 12, 13, 19, 38, 42, 50, 77, 87, 88, 91, 95, 96–98, 158, 180, 185, 194; of 1962, 13, 46, 88, 92; of 1963, 13, 42, 46, 88, 93; of 1971, 12, 13, 19, 46, 50, 77, 93, 95, 99, 157–58, 185; of 1980, 2, 12, 13, 18–19, 43, 77, 99, 100, 101, 132–33, 134, 140–42, 155, 157, 159, 188, 194, 227n29; of 1997, 12, 13, 20, 77, 132–33, 134, 137–39, 145, 147, 151, 153, 158, 185, 188; attempt of 15 July 2016, 195–200 credit: for business, 67, 69, 85, 89–90, 144–45, 162; rating, 118 Crete, 12, 53, 56, 63 crisis: banking, 145; economic (in general), 2, 8, 20, 36, 40, 42, 44–45; fiscal, 19, 106, 115, 131; financial, 55,

61, 106, 117; oil, 75, 110; political, 36, 145, 163, 193 Page 300 →crisis (continued) —GREECE economic crisis, 58, 113, 120, 128–32, 191, 193, 205, 252n117 —TURKEY economic crisis, 82, 88, 100, 146–47, 149, 157 crown prince: in Greece, 54; in Thailand, 168 Crown Property Bureau (CPB), 160, 162 current account balance, 117, 133, 144 Cyprus, 76, 103, 108, 112 Dahl, Robert, 21–23, 25–27, 29, 222n10, 225n3, 227n25 DavutoДџlu, Ahmet, 156 death penalty, 50, 57, 60, 74, 82, 92, 97, 140, 142, 149, 180 debt: government (public), 117–19, 143–44, 149; moratorium, 125, 162 deconsolidation, 6, 12, 19, 44, 106, 127, 130–31, 190–93, 245n1; definition of, 8 decree, 199 deep state, 136 demilitarization, 174 Demirbank, 144 Demirel, SГјleyman, 2, 96–97, 102–4, 133–38, 244n124 democracy: attitudinal support for, 12, 57; behavioral support for, 7, 39; delegative, 8; in Egypt, 169–77; electoral, 8; illiberal, 8, 222n24; norms of, 39; procedures of, 8, 12, 39, 107, 130, 150; social, 107; transition to, 2, 47, 77, 87, 112–15, 188, 224n48, 227n29, 252n117; in Thailand, 160 —consolidated, 4, 31, 47, 51–52, 53, 107, 108, 189–90, 192–93 —unconsolidated, 4, 7, 11, 13, 17, 38, 51, 184, 188, 223n39; in Greece, 53, 56, 58, 62, 68, 76, 112; in Turkey, 77, 87, 93, 95, 100, 103–4, 134, 155, 193–94, 252n1 Democrat Party (Thailand), 161–62, 166–68 Democratic Alliance, 121, 248n69 Democratic Army of Greece (DSE), 68 democratic control (civilian oversight of the military), 2, 82, 199 Democratic Left, 121, 123, 124, 205, 249n82 Democratic Left Party (DLP), 133, 138–40, 141, 145

Democratic Party (DP), 38, 86–87, 90, 92, 96–97 democratization, 4–7, 24–25, 43–44, 73–74, 111–12, 142, 146, 149–52, 170, 189, 192, 198 demonstrations, 11, 28, 35–36, 38–39, 185; in Egypt, 170–71, 172–73, 179; in Greece, 64, 68, 72, 73, 108, 121, 237n101; in Thailand, 155, 164, 165, 167; in Turkey, 95, 96, 99, 101, 136–37, 149 Dersim, 83 DerviЕџ, Kemal, 145 devaluation, 109 Devrim (Turkish weekly), 96–97 dictatorship (personalist regimes), 9–10, 25, 61–62, 65–66, 78, 107, 130, 224n42 dominant classes, 15, 24, 26, 226nn10–11 DГјndar, Гњmit, 197 earthquake (Turkey, 1999), 142–43, 146 east (of Turkey), 12, 15, 19, 80, 81, 91, 133, 140, 149, 153 Ecevit, BГјlent, 98, 102–3, 133, 139, 145 economic elites, 3, 14–16, 18, 27, 36–37, 41, 49, 183, 187, 189, 225n66; in Egypt, 178, 181; in Greece, 67, 72, 75–76, 110; in Thailand, 162; in Turkey, 79, 80, 85–87, 98, 150 economic growth, 57, 68, 71, 85, 89, 96, 110, 114, 117, 120, 133, 146, 149 Egyptian Business Development Association (EBDA), 178 elections, 8–10, 18–20, 37–40, 184–86, 191–94; early (snap), 123, 127, 151, 157, 192; local, 82, 128, 135, 150 —in EGYPT, 170–71, 172, 175–78, 180–81, 262n84, 263n102 —in GREECE, 55–63, 68, 71, 73, 75, 106–7, 110, 113–16, 123–31, 248n69, 249n80, 252n117 —in THAILAND, 158–167, 169 —in TURKEY, 77–83, 86–90, 92, 96, 98–99, 102–5, 132–33, 135, 139–43, 147, 148, 150–57, 256n70 electoral: base, 65, 71; campaign, 108, 123, Page 301 →125, 135, 163; democracy, 8; support, 12, 108, 162–63, 249n77; system, 17, 37, 239n1; victories, 57, 107–8, 108, 110, 156 electorate (voters), 3, 11, 19, 17, 29, 31, 35, 37–39, 43–45, 47, 189–90 —in GREECE, 58, 60, 70–71, 72, 74, 109, 112–14, 121–23, 125–29, 131, 192, 252n117 —in THAILAND, 162 —in TURKEY, 79, 80, 90, 99, 100, 105–6, 109, 135–36, 145–47, 149–56, 194, 253n28, 256n70 elite: coalitions, 19–20, 43–44, 92, 147, 177; pacts, 6, 39, 220n14; power, 3; security, 33, 35–36, 87;

splits, 47, 76, 82, 84, 163, 169, 182; support for military intervention, 45, 187–88, 257n2; unity, 39, 45–48, 198. See also businesspeople; economic elite; political elites; secularist elite —well-being of, 3, 13, 15–16, 33, 36, 38–40, 184, 186, 190–91; in Egypt, 178, 181; in Thailand, 161; in Turkey, 87, 155–56 elite conflict, 27, 38, 187 —in EGYPT, 173–74 —in GREECE, 56–59 —in THAILAND, 159, 163–64 —in TURKEY, 19–20, 90, 94, 97, 103, 105, 132, 157, 196, 200 el-Selmi, Ali, 263n102 el-Sisi, Abdel Fattah, 170, 180–81 Endowment for Strengthening the Army, 103 Entente powers, 57 Epirus, 53, 56, 59 Erbakan, Necmettin, 96, 99, 133, 136–39 Erdoğan, Recep Tayyip, 146, 153–56, 193–99 Ergenekon, 152, 197, 199 Erim, Nihat, 97–99, 101 etatism, 84–85 Etibank, 144 Europe, 6–7, 41, 54, 64, 67, 75, 128, 146, 193, 196 European Union (EU), 6–7, 38, 122, 125, 127, 129, 140, 142, 146–47, 149–50, 152–53, 193; accession, 38, 43–44, 110; accession criteria, 43, 44, 191; acquis, 140, 142; anchor, 191; and democratization, 43–45, 190–91; and the Greek economic crisis, 115, 117–19; harmonization packages, 149–50; Helsinki summit, 142; political conditionality, 43–44, 191; structural funds, 117 euro, 116–17, 123, 126; eurozone, 116–18 European Central Bank (ECB), 119, 125–26 European Commission, 119 European Community (EC), 110 European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), 140 Europeanization, 43–44

Evren, Kenan, 103–4, 202 Ezz, Ahmad, 261n64 exchange of populations, 79, 235n54 exit guarantees, 48, 108 exports, 89, 117, 133, 149 farmers, 79, 85, 89, 116, 122, 143, 162–63 far-right, 19, 106, 128–31, 192–93 fascism, 128, 223nn31–32, 234n51 Felicity Party, 139 financial markets, 117, 145 Finer, Samuel, 219n7, 225n3 First World War, 7, 55–56, 60, 77–79, 80, 184, 227n34 five-year plans, 94 fixed exchange rate, 143 For Thais Party (FTP), 165, 166 foreign direct investment (FDI), 71, 115 foreign exchange rate, 84 foreign policy, 56, 142, 256n76 Free Republican Party (FRP), 78, 82 Freedom and Justice Party (FJP), 176–79 Freedom House, 154, 223n34 freedom of expression, 93, 146, 154 game theory, 6, 25 General Confederation of Greek Workers (GSEE), 59, 65, 122, general staff: of Greece, 57, 63, 66, 112; of Turkey, 82–83, 86, 91–93, 97, 103–4, 137–38, 150–51, 194, 197, 199 Page 302 →generals, 202; in Egypt, 170, 174–75, 180; in Greece, 74; in Thailand, 163, 168; in Turkey, 81, 83, 89, 91–92, 97–98, 103–4, 138, 150, 244n129, 253n16 Germany, 42, 63, 66, 115–18, 142 Gezi protests, 153–56, 194, 256n80

Gizikis, Faidon, 70 Golden Dawn (GD), 124, 125, 127–30, 252n117 Gounaris, Demetrios, 57 Great Depression, 63, 82, 85, 233n25 Great Idea, 54, 232n10 gross domestic product (GDP), 71, 75, 115–20, 143–44, 149, 174 gross national product (GNP), 69, 71, 73, 133 guerrilla warfare, 68, 84, 127, 128, 133, 140 Gül, Abdullah, 146, 151 Gülen, Fethullah, 147, 152–54, 156, 196, 198–99, 256n76 Gulf states, 181 Gürler, Faruk, 97 Gürsel, Cemal, 91–92 headgear reform, 239n4 health care, 162 hegemony, 22 Hellenic Federation of Enterprises (SEV), 55, 61, 110, 127, 203, 205 High Council of Judges and Public Prosecutors, 153 high courts, 147 historical sociology, 24–25 Hitler, Adolf, 66, 234n51 holding companies (in Turkey), 138, 145 Huber Stephens, Evelyne, 16, 23–26, 226n10, 229n56 human rights, 2, 107, 140, 142, 149 Human Rights Watch, 251n108 Huntington, Samuel, 14, 219n7, 220n9, 224n42, 227n26 ideology, 9, 11, 16, 84, 101, 107, 128–29, 156, 228n36, 230n66, 250n91 Idionymon law, 59, 65 İlker, Fahir, 104

imperialism, 108 import, 67, 85, 89–90, 94, 96, 101, 110, 117, 137, 144; licenses, 94, 96; substitution industrialization (ISI), 94, 96, 101, 133 income distribution, 71 independence tribunals, 78 independent: candidates, 55, 83, 114, 148; group, 83 Independent Greeks (IG), 121, 123, 124 Independent Industrialists’ and Businessmen’s Association (MÜSİAD), 135 Indignados, 122 industrial: growth rates, 57; production, 14, 79, 101, 174 inequality, 24–25, 42, 45, 133, 135, 170, 176, 226n15 inflation, 89, 101, 117, 133, 135, 143–44, 149 information shortcuts, 191 infrastructure, 85 İnönü, İsmet, 78, 82–83, 85–87, 90, 92–93, 98, 241n56 insurgency, 3, 9, 31, 49, 62, 69–70, 74, 78, 91–93, 192, 231, 258n8; ethnic, 186; Malay Muslim, 159; Menemen, 82; Sheikh Said, 81–84 intellectuals, 96–97, 162 interest groups, 17, 116, 121–22, 247n41 interest rates, 117–19, 133, 143–45 interim government, 61, 91, 97–98, 100, 104, 160, 202 international community, 38 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 119, 127, 143–45, 149, 193 Interpol, 136, 142 interviews with businesspeople, 75–76, 98, 101–2, 104, 110–11, 201–17 interwar period, 3–5, 11, 12, 21, 24, 29, 56, 105, 113, 136, 158, 184 investment, 15, 36, 61, 69, 89, 103, 115, 162 Ioannidis, Dimitrios, 70 Islam, 6, 20, 79, 134, 136, 138, 147; Islamic civilization, 99; Islamic law (Sharia), 82, 137, 176 Islamists, 16, 20, 39, 137, 139, 146, 150, 153, 155, 172, 176–77, 179

Israel, 172, 174, 256n76 Istanbul, 53, 91, 94, 101, 135, 137–38, 146, 155, 195–97; Chamber of Commerce Page 303 →(Д°TO), 101, 204; Chamber of Industry (Д°SO), 204; Merchant Association, 86 Izmir, 94, 101, 201 January 1980 economic program, 102–4, 133 journalists, 15, 121, 138, 152, 154, 179, 199, 201, 205 Judges’ Club, 175 judiciary, 7, 16; in Egypt, 172, 175, 177–79; in Greece, 75; in Thailand, 161–64, 165; in Turkey, 134, 136, 139, 149, 152–55, 199 junta (Thailand), 163–64, 167–69 Just Order, 135 Justice and Development Party (JDP), 2, 20, 38, 43–44, 132, 139, 146–57, 178, 190–98, 256n70 Justice Party (JP), 92–98, 100, 102–3, 105 Kanellopoulos, Panagiotis, 74–75 KaradayД±, Д°smail HakkД±, 138 Karamanlis, Konstantine, 43, 75, 107, 112, 191 Kefaya, 171, 175 Kemalism, 84, 87, 135, 137, 147, 151–56, 194, 228n36, 241n60 Keynesian, 109 Khaled Said, 171 KД±lД±Г§daroДџlu, Kemal, 197 Kings: Bhumibol Adulyadej, 159–60, 168; Constantine, 57, 60; Constantine II, 74–75; George, 54; George II, 63; Otho, 53–54 KoГ§, Vehbi, 242n64 KocatopГ§u, Ећahap, 104 Kurds, 140, 142, 148, 149, 156, 198; and activities, 101, 133, 194; and conflict with Turkey, 84, 153–54; and regions in Turkey, 19, 79, 186, 193 Kurdish opening, 153 Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), 101, 133, 140, 142, 147, 149, 153, 157, 253n31 Kuwait, 263n110 labor, 17, 24, 39, 201, 220–21n14, 226n11, 229n56; in Egypt, 170–71, 175; in Greece, 56, 59–60, 63, 65, 67–69, 71, 109–11, 117, 120, 122, 126, 235n54; in Thailand, 162; in Turkey, 85–86, 89, 95, 96–97,

101, 137, 155, 256n80 Lambrakis Youth, 73 land: distribution, 58, 59; landlords, 15, 89, 91, 241n49; landowners, 14, 24, 86; reform, 35, 86, 91, 94, 95, 98 Lausanne Treaty, 61, 77 law on maintenance of order, 78 layoffs, 119 leftist, 11, 19, 26–27, 36, 227n34; radical, 2, 36; in Greece, 64, 65, 68–69, 71, 73–75, 107, 109, 125, 128, 248n70, 249n72; in Thailand, 164; in Turkey, 93–99, 100, 156, 194, 228n36 legitimacy, 10, 40, 45, 66, 174–75, 192 lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT), 126, 155–56 Lesbos, 60 liberal, 3, 7, 189, 194; in Egypt, 172–73, 175–77, 181; in Greece, 109, 252n117; in Thailand, 169; in Turkey, 82, 85, 149–51, 153, 155–56, 184, 190, 252n1. See also liberalism Liberal Party (Greece), 38, 56–57, 63, 65–66 liberalism, 226n9, 258n5; liberalization, 11, 44, 47, 71, 74–75, 86, 102–4, 116, 143, 147, 174, 238n118; neoliberalism, 125, 173–74 licenses, 85; banking, 145; import, 94, 96; and national-mindedness, 71 local notables, 41, 54, 79, 240n43 lower classes, 3, 4, 11, 16, 24, 31–32, 35–39, 42–43, 48, 106–9, 112, 185, 188–90; and activism, 15, 18, 20, 36, 66, 76, 101, 103, 105, 130, 170, 190; in the literature, 26–27; and mobilization, 154, 164, 194; and movements, 65, 104, 158, 220n14 —in Egypt, 172, 180–82; in Greece, 19, 58, 59, 63, 67, 70, 74; in Thailand, 163, 165; in Turkey, 19, 80, 84, 95, 99, 136, 147, 154, 156, 197, 200, 227n29, 256n80 Macedonia, 53–56, 59 mafia, 136, Mahmut II, 78 Page 304 →manufacturing, 55, 57, 69, 75, 85, 99 Marmaris, 195–96 martial law, 70, 74, 82, 102, 167, 186, 244n117 masses, 11, 27, 86–87, 91 Mediterranean, 54, 79, 228n40 memoirs, 4, 241n54, 242n70, 244n129

memoranda of understanding, 46, 95, 96–98, 110, 121, 123, 125, 129, 131, 243n98, 249n77 Menderes, Adnan, 86, 90–92 merchants, 41, 54, 56, 67, 69, 94, 147 Metaxas regime, 12, 16, 19, 47, 53, 56, 62–68, 76, 128, 158, 188, 223n39, 230n70. See also 1936 regime; 4th of August regime Metaxas, Ioannis, 16, 19, 53, 63–68, 76, 128, 223n39, 230n70, 234n51, 236n86 middle classes, 11, 24–25, 35, 86, 162, 219n7, 256n80 Middle East, 6, 136, 172 migration, 79, 101, 109 Mihaloliakos, Nikolaos, 128 military: aid, 7, 41–42, 69, 72, 88, 91, 160, 172, 186; budget, 14, 33, 35, 111, 164; captains, 41; clique, 3, 40, 49, 51, 56, 58, 87, 88, 95, 96, 108, 111, 160; courts, 153, 261n75; interests, 13, 35, 73, 83, 111, 174, 199, 224n42, 227n30, 231n77 (see also corporate); promotions, 13–14, 60, 86, 88, 91, 111, 152, 159, 160, 180; purges, 60, 62, 66, 103, 111, 199; tutelage, 7–8, 35, 47, 56, 77–83, 87, 93, 104, 107, 158–59, 164, 174, 189; unity, 40, 45, 48, 62, 73, 180, 244n129; withdrawal, 108, 188–91, 228n45 —autonomy, 33, 41, 58, 70, 72, 82–83, 88, 111, 133, 177, 186; decreasing, 27, 73, 102, 149–50; definition of, 8, 222n27; professional, 14, 222n27 —hierarchy, 14, 40, 45, 48–49, 194; in Egypt, 171, 174; in Greece, 60, 72, 74, 111; in Turkey, 80, 82, 91, 150, 197 —prerogatives, 8, 12, 43, 47–49, 189, 222n27; in Egypt, 175, 177, 189; in Greece, 70, 72, 74, 112; in Thailand, 165; in Turkey, 95, 99, 100, 104, 132, 134, 152 military-as-government, 173, 180, 185, 264n2 military-as-institution, 9, 170, 173, 180, 185, 264n2 military intervention: causes, 184–87; nature, 187–88 Military League, 55 minimum wage, 119, 166 Ministry of Interior (Egypt), 173–74, 179 Ministry of National Defense (Turkey), 86, 199 minorities, 17, 41, 99, 101, 109, 116, 127, 150, 153, 156, 198 Mitsotakis, Aristomenis, 63 modernity, 147 modernization theory, 25, 219n7 monarchists (royalists), 27, 56–60, 62–68, 160, 161, 165, 169, 236n86

monarchy, 7, 12, 54–57, 60, 66, 68, 107, 159–62 Morsi, Mohamed, 170, 175, 177–80 Motherland Party (MP), 132–33, 136, 138–40, 141, 146, 148 Mubarak, Gamal, 171, 174 Mubarak, Hosni, 20, 169–80, 261n71 Muslim, 6, 20, 79, 134, 136, 138, 147 Muslim Brotherhood (MB), 171, 173, 175–76 Mussolini, Benito, 66, 234n51 National Anti-Corruption Commission (NACC) (Thailand), 161 national assembly (parliament), 12 —in EGYPT, 170, 176–78, 181 —in GREECE, 19, 55–57, 61–63, 68, 73, 106, 113, 121–29, 205, 249n77, 250n85, 252n117 —in THAILAND, 166–68 —in TURKEY: until 1983, 78, 81–84, 86–87, 90, 93, 96–99, 102; after 1983, 132, 135–40, 145–47, 149, 151, 155–57, 194, 196–97, 199, 240n34, 243n98, 244n123 National Association for Change, 171 National Bank (Greece), 57, 61, 67, 205 National Council of Peace and Order (NCPO), 168–69 Page 305 →National Democratic Party (Egypt), 176, 261n64 National Election Commission (NEC), 161 National Liberation Front (EAM), 68 National Order Party, 96 National Popular Liberation Army (ELAS), 68 National Radical Union (NRU), 68, 75 National Reform Council (NRC), 168 National Salvation Front (Egypt), 173, 181 National Salvation Party (NSP), 99, 101–2 National Schism, 53, 57 national security, 70, 115 National Security Council (NSC), 93, 95, 133, 199

National Union Committee (NUC), 88, 89, 91 nationalism, 6 Nationalist Action Party (NAP), 99, 101–2, 133, 139–40, 141, 145, 148, 197–98 nationalization, 95, 109–10 navy, 61, 66, 69, 72, 74, 98, 223n40 Nazif, Ahmad, 176, 261n64 New Democracy (ND), 106–13, 114, 121–23, 124, 128, 131 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 7, 42, 72, 74, 103, 104, 109, 112, 143, 160 Öcalan, Abdullah, 140, 142, 146, 153 O’Donnell, Guillermo. 16, 22–23, 26 officers: hard-liner, 47, 50, 59, 60, 70, 75, 92–93, 97–98, 103, 150–52; higher-ranking, 89, 91, 93, 95, 111, 165, 173; lower-ranking, 86–92, 97, 165, 169, 173; middle-ranking, 42, 74, 91; senior ranking, 2, 152, 180; soft-liner, 47, 50, 74, 97 oligarchy, 35 one-party dominant system, 9, 146–57 Orban, Viktor, 44 Organization for Economic Co–operation and Development (OECD), 116 Orthodox church, 53 Ottoman: heritage, 6; state, 15, 41 Ottoman Empire, 19, 41, 53–55, 77–79, 80, 228n36 Özal, Turgut, 104, 131–33, 136, 140, 190 Özkök, Hilmi, 150 Pangalos, Theodoros, 61–62, 234n38 Panhellenic Liberation Movement, 75 Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK), 39, 106–13, 114, 122–23, 124 Papadopoulos, Georgios, 1, 70, 74 Papandreou, Andreas, 71, 73, 75, 107, 237n101 Papandreou, Georgios, 71, 73 Papandreou, George, Jr., 118 parliament. See national assembly

party: identification, 113; political party, 6–7, 10, 17–19, 26, 37–39, 42, 46, 184, 194, 202, 204; radical (see radical party); system, 19, 106, 113, 121, 123, 132, 134, 145, 157 —in EGYPT, 176, 181 —in GREECE: until 1974, 2, 54, 58, 59, 61, 63, 70, 72, 73, 75; after 1974, 106–7, 113, 116–17, 120–22, 128–29, 205 —in TURKEY: until 1983, 1, 80, 87, 90, 95, 97–105; after 1983, 133, 135, 140, 143, 146, 149–151, 155–56, 194, 197–98 patronage, 19, 59, 106, 109, 113, 246n29 patron-client relations, 19, 58, 59, 113 Pattaya, 166 peasants. See rural class pension system, 116, 120 People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD), 160, 162–64, 166–67 People’s Democratic Party (PDP), 148, 156–57, 198 People’s Democratic Reform Committee (PDRC), 165–69 People’s Party (Greece), 56, 62 People’s Power Party (PPP), 160, 164–66 perception of threat, 3, 24, 27, 42, 184, 187, 190, 226n11, 226n15, 257n2; in Greece, 57, 60, 72, 73, 74, 136; in Turkey, 107, 115, 198–99 Pericles report, 73 periphery, 6, 53, 125, 186; semi-periphery, 15 Page 306 →personalist regimes (dictatorship), 9–10, 25, 61–62, 65–66, 78, 107, 130, 224n42 Phanariots, 41, 53 Piraeus, 55, 65 pluralism, 9, 78, 83, 146, 155 polarization, 2, 20, 44, 101, 105–6, 123, 127, 131–32, 152–53, 156–57, 164, 193–94 police, 29, 33, 45, 192, 227n25; in Egypt, 171, 173; in Greece, 65, 73, 116, 121–22, 127–28; in Thailand, 159, 163–66; in Turkey, 101–2, 136, 152, 154–56, 199 Police and Public Security Assistance Protocol (EMASYA), 139, 152 political elites, 1, 3–4, 10–11, 13, 15–20, 27, 29, 33, 39, 41–48, 183, 189–90, 192; and threats, 36–37 —in EGYPT, 173, 175

—in GREECE, 1, 54–60, 64, 66, 69–70, 72, 74–76, 107, 111, 113, 121–22, 129–30, 230n70 —in TURKEY: until 1983, 78, 82, 84–86, 88–89, 90, 92–94, 95, 99, 100, 101–4, 240n43; after 1983, 133, 134, 139, 142, 145–46, 152, 156–57, 195, 197–98 —in THAILAND, 158, 160, 161–62, 167–68 politicians. See political elites polls, 113, 130, 135, 161, 162, 192 polyarchy, 21–22 Polytechnic, 12, 70, 74 Popular Orthodox Rally (POR), 114, 129 population exchange, 79, 235n54 populism, 84, 125, 127, 163, 228n40; populist, 22, 89, 106, 111, 125–26, 131, 135, 154, 161–62, 166, 226n11 Portugal, 5, 234n51, 248n61 poverty, 120, 149, 162, 170 power holders, 10–11, 16, 31–32, 47, 52, 64, 72, 78, 81, 83, 165, 172, 223n30 praetorianism, 23 Prayuth Chan-o-cha, 167–69 preferences, 3, 7–8, 10, 13–18, 21, 27, 31–33, 37, 44–46, 76, 78, 83, 106–9, 183, 190–91 Prem Tinsulanonda, 161, 163, 166 prerogatives of the military. See under military: prerogatives presidency, 16–17, 70, 81, 92, 103, 133, 136, 155–56, 177, 199 president —in EGYPT, 170–71, 178–81 —in GREECE, 61, 123 —in THAILAND, 161, 166 —in TURKEY, 78, 82–83, 86–87, 97–98, 104, 134, 137–38, 140, 145, 151, 194–98 press, 75, 78, 90, 93, 149, 154, 178 prices, 85, 89, 101, 116, 166, 181 primates, 41, 54 private property, 15, 36, 61, 121

privatization, 119, 126, 133, 136, 144, 147, 171 Privy Council, 161, 163, 166, 168 professionals, 11 profit, 15, 67, 85, 109, 174 Progressive Republican Party (PRP), 81–83 Proletariat, 107, 252n117 promotions in the military, 13–14, 60, 86, 88, 91, 111, 152, 159, 160, 180 proportional representation, 17 prosecutors, 147, 153–54, 156 protests, 188–89, 192; in Egypt, 169, 171–76, 179–81; in Greece, 55, 70, 121–22, 125, 130; in Thailand, 158, 160, 164, 166–67, 169; in Turkey, 80, 81–82, 99, 101, 137, 151, 153–57, 194 public: contracts, 115; expenditure, 116; sector, 114, 116, 119, 126, 143 purges from the military, 60, 62, 66, 103, 111, 199 putsch, 10, 45–46, 49, 62, 158–59, 167, 169, 196–98 putschists, 9, 48–49, 60, 73–74, 112, 184, 186, 189, 230n68 radical party, 19, 28, 36, 38, 100, 102, 106, 108, 134, 135, 228n39. See also party rallies, 38, 101, 136, 151, 155, 162–63, 185, 237n101 rational choice theory, 25 rebellion, 10–11, 47, 52, 63, 64, 72, 78–84, 87, 165; Nasturi, 81, 239n19 red shirts, 164–66, 169 Page 307 →referendum, 60, 92, 107, 126–27, 133, 151–53, 192 reform, 7, 35, 48, 53, 55–56, 79–82, 84, 86–87, 91, 94, 95, 97–99, 104, 120 refugees, 58, 59, 61, 63, 64, 129, 192–93, 235n54 regime change, 4–7, 11, 14, 16, 18, 21–27, 221n17 rent distribution, 106, 133, 247n41 repression, 3, 10–11, 15, 25, 39–40, 42, 45, 47–48, 186, 190–92, 226n15; in Egypt, 176, 178–81; in Greece, 64, 70–71, 122; in Thailand, 159, 167; in Turkey, 80, 82, 86–87, 90, 97, 146, 155–56, 198 Republican People’s Party (RPP), 228n36; before 1983, 16, 77–92, 97–98, 100, 102–5, 240n43, 242n64; after 1983, 137, 141, 147, 148, 151, 156, 197–98 republicanism, 84; republicans, 27, 56–60, 63–66, 236n86; Republican protests, 155 reserve domains, 8, 12, 35, 43, 47–48, 77, 87, 93, 158, 174, 189

resistance movements, 46 revolt, 10–11, 12, 32, 47; in Greece, 54, 63, 70, 75–76, 122, 235n66, 238n114; in Egypt, 171, 176 revolution, 47, 56, 75, 87, 91, 107, 166; revolutionism, 15, 25, 70, 73, 84, 180 Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey (DİSK), 96 rightist, 24, 26–27, 36, 44; in Greece, 1, 68–71, 73, 75–76, 107–8, 111–12, 121, 128, 131, 190, 249n72; in Turkey, 99, 101, 133, 228n36 Robinson, James, 25–26, 222n29, 226n15 royalists (monarchists), 27, 56–60, 62–68, 160, 161, 165, 169, 236n86 Rueschemeyer, Dietrich, 16, 23–26, 226n10, 229n56 rule of law, 2, 146, 149, 154, 230n64 rural class (peasants), 15, 17, 24, 39; in Greece, 59, 65, 68; in Thailand, 162–64, 166; in Turkey, 79, 80, 81, 84, 86, 89, 157 Russia, 54, 144, 227n34 Sabancı group, 104 Sadat, Anwar, 171 safety, 18, 36, 39, 56, 122, 193 Salafists, 176, 181 Salonika, 57, 76 Samak Sundaravej, 166 Saudi Arabia, 181 Saving Deposit Insurance Fund, 144 Second World War, 7, 41–42, 67–69, 83, 85–86, 236n86 secularist: 79, 135, 139, 147, 151, 153, 155; elites, 19, 146, 173, 177; secularism, 79, 137–38, 146, 151, 241n60 senate, 92, 166–68 Sezer, Ahmet Necdet, 151 Sharia law, 82, 137, 176 Shin Corporation, 162 shipping, 67, 117 signals during military interventions, 46–47 Sincan, 137

single-party: authoritarian regimes, 9–10, 12, 19, 77–87, 223n41; government, 20, 132, 157 social: democracy, 107; exclusion, 120; movement, 11, 23, 47, 100, 105, 155; socialization, 29, 108, 136 social mobilization, 7, 9–10, 20, 28, 36, 38–39, 184–88, 228n39; in Egypt, 172, 175, 179–82; in Greece, 58, 74, 126, 131; in Thailand, 163–64, 165, 167; in Turkey, 84, 86–87, 155, 194–97 socialism, 94, 108 Socialist Culture Society, 94 society, 4, 13, 17, 20, 25, 32, 40–44, 46–49, 183, 186, 192 —in EGYPT, 171, 175–76, 179, 181 —in GREECE, 4, 19, 56, 66, 125, 127–28, 193 —in THAILAND, 162, 167 —in TURKEY, 2, 84, 138, 142, 150, 154–55, 157, 194, 199 socioeconomic development, 26, 219n7 Somchai Wongsawat, 166 Sondhi Limthongkul, 162 South America, 22–23 Southern Europe, 5–6, 40 Southern Thailand, 186 Soviet Union, 87 Page 308 →Spain, 5, 122, 231n85, 247n51, 248n61 state, 14–17, 19, 23, 29, 35, 37, 41–42, 44–45, 47, 183, 187 —in EGYPT, 174, 176–78 —in GREECE, 53–62, 64, 67, 69–73, 109–17, 121, 126, 128–29 —in TURKEY, 1, 77–79, 84–86, 90, 93–94, 96–99, 102–3, 133, 136–39, 142–43, 147, 149, 154, 156–57, 199 State Planning Organization (SPO), 91, 94 State Security Courts (SSC), 102, 142 Stephens, John, 16, 23–26, 226n10, 229n56 strikes, 28, 35–36, 38–39, 185; in Egypt, 170, 261n75; in Greece, 64, 65, 72–73, 122, 130, 249n75; in Turkey, 95, 97, 100, 101, 136 structure, 16, 28, 35, 41, 69, 75, 78–79, 85, 107, 154, 224n48 students, 70, 72, 73–74, 93, 97, 147, 155, 159, 164, 238n114, 248n70, 256n80

suffrage, 54 Sunay, Cevdet, 92, 97 Supreme Constitutional Court (SCC), 175, 177, 179 Supreme Council of National Defense (Greece), 111 Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), 170–71, 172–73, 174–80, 261n75, 262n84, 263n102 Surayud Chulanont, 163 Susurluk, 136, 145 Suthep Thaugsuban, 167 Synaspismos coalition, 107, 113, 114 Syntagma, 122 Syria, 129, 140, 153 Tağmaç, Memduh, 97 Tahrir Square, 171, 180 Taksim Square, 137 Tamarod, 179, 263n98 Tantawi, Mohamed Hussein, 170, 175 taxes, 15, 55, 86, 91, 98, 116–17, 120, 126, 178, 181; tax evasion, 116, 133 technocrats, 16, 98, 129, 148, 169 terrorism, 14–15, 28, 39, 43, 186; in Greece, 121–22, 130, 248n70; in Turkey, 100, 101–4, 142, 149, 152, 154, 157 Thais Love Thais (TLT), 159–64 Thaksin Shinawatra, 159–69, 258n22 The first group (1920 Turkish parliament), 78 Thessaly, 53, 59 Third Army Corps, 76 third wave of democratization, 5 Third World, 41–42, 107 Thrace, 53–56 totalitarianism, 9, 19, 44, 78, 106, 128, 131 tourism sector, 75, 117, 174

trade balance, 117 Trade Union Front, 122 trade unions, 59, 70, 73, 96–97, 116, 139, 157 transition studies, 6, 220n14, 225n3 transition to democracy, 2, 47, 77, 87, 112–15, 188, 224n48, 227n29, 252n117. See also democracy troika, 119, 122–23, 125–26, 129 True Path Party (TPP), 133–39, 141, 146, 148 Truman, Harry, 87 trust, 8, 56, 61, 88, 113, 117, 150, 176, 178, 190, 194, 198 Tsipras, Alexis, 125–27, 249n81, 250n85, 250n95 Tunceli law, 83–84, 240n34 TГјrkeЕџ, Alpaslan, 99, 133 Turkish Armed Forces (TAF), 76, 86, 103, 140, 197, 201–2 Turkish Armed Forces Assistance and Pension Fund (OYAK), 97–98, 103 Turkish Confederation of Businessmen and Industrialists (TUSKON), 149 Turkish Industry and Business Association (TГњSД°AD), 96, 134, 138 Turkish Labor Party (TLP), 96–97 Turkish lira, 143–45 Turkish Union of Chambers (TOBB), 94–96, 98, 102, 134, 138 tutelary powers of the military, 7–8, 35, 47, 56, 77–83, 87, 93, 104, 107, 158–59, 164, 174, 189 tzakia, 54, 229n49 Page 309 →ulema, 78 unconsolidated authoritarian regime, 3, 11, 27, 32, 46–47, 70, 76–77, 81, 198, 230n70, 231n78 unconsolidated democracy, 4, 7, 11, 13, 17, 38, 51, 184, 188, 223n39 —in EGYPT, 169–77 —in GREECE, 53, 56, 58, 62, 68, 76, 112 —in THAILAND, 161 —in TURKEY, 77, 87, 93, 95, 100, 103–4, 134, 155, 193–94, 252n1 unemployment, 63, 101, 120, 135, 145, 170, 256n80

Union of Armed Forces (UAF), 89, 91–92 United Arab Emirates, 115, 263n110 United Democratic Left (UDL), 71, 107 United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD), 164–66 United Nations, 87 United States, 41, 186; and Egypt; 172, 257n2; and Greece, 68–69, 72, 109; and Thailand, 160, 257n2; and Turkey, 87, 88, 91, 95, 97, 243n101 unity of the military, 40, 45, 48, 62, 73, 180, 244n129 unyielding struggle, 71 upper classes, 3, 11, 14, 26–27, 35–36, 39, 43, 182 value-added tax (VAT), 120 Varkiza agreement, 68 Venizelos, Eleftherios, 55–57, 60, 62–63, 65–67 veto, 15, 137, 142, 168, 219n7 violence, 8, 12, 15, 17, 19–20, 25, 33, 35–39, 49, 185–86, 188, 190, 192; in Greece, 64, 127–31; in Thailand, 165, 167, 169; in Turkey, 99–101, 103–6, 140, 154, 193, 200 Virtue Party (VP), 139, 141, 146 voters, 3, 11, 19, 17, 29, 31, 35, 37–39, 43–45, 47, 189–90; in Greece, 58, 60, 70–71, 72, 74, 109, 112–14, 121–23, 125–29, 131, 192, 252n117; in Thailand, 162; in Turkey, 79, 80, 90, 99, 100, 105–6, 109, 135–36, 145–47, 149–56, 194, 253n28, 256n70. See also electorate Voutsis, Nikolaos, 250n85, 250n91 wages, 42, 69, 109, 114, 116, 119, 166, 254n35 war college, 92–93 war industry, 66 War of Independence (Greece), 41, 54–55 War of Independence (Turkey), 41, 81–82 weapons, 13, 55, 66, 86, 103–4, 115, 174. See also armaments welfare, 35, 116, 128, 176 Welfare Party (WP), 39, 132–39, 141, 146, 149, 157, 253n16 West, 6–7, 24, 38, 79, 87, 109, 186 West Study Group, 137

withdrawal of the military, 108, 188–91, 228n45 workers, 17, 24, 39, 201, 226n11, 220n14, 229n56; in Egypt, 170–71, 175; in Greece, 56, 59–60, 63, 65, 67–69, 71, 109–11, 117, 120, 122, 126, 235n54; in Thailand, 162; in Turkey, 85–86, 89, 95, 96–97, 101, 137, 155, 256n80. See also labor World Bank, 118, 119, 145 yellow shirts, 163–67 Yıldırım, Binali, 196–97 Yılmaz, Mesut, 136, 138–39 Yingluck Shinawatra, 166–67 Yön (journal in Turkey), 94, 96 Zigdis, Ioannis, 74