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TURKEY IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY

LA TURQUIE AU VINGTIÈME SIÈCLE

In memory of Prof. H.R. Roemer, who was devoted to the idea of Fundamenta up to the end of his life.

À la mémoire du Prof. H.R. Roemer, qui jusqu'à la fin de sa vie est resté fidèle à l'idée de Fundamenta.

PHILOLOGIAE ET HISTORIAE TURCICAE FUNDAMENTA TOMUS SECUNDUS (PHILOLOGIAE TURCICAE FUNDAMENTA TOMUS QUARTUS)

EDIDERUNT

LOUIS BAZIN

GYORGY HAZAI

Turkey in the Twentieth Century La Turquie au vingtième siècle Edited by / Édité par

Erik-Jan Zurcher

K S

KLAUS SCHWARZ VERLAG • BERLIN

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Bibliothek Die Deutsche Bibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet unter http://dnb.ddb.de abrufbar.

Publié sur la recommendation du Conseil Internationale de la Philosophie et des Sciences Humaines

© 2008 by International Union for Oriental and Asian Studies / Union Internationale des Études Orientales et Asiatiques (Paris-Budapest) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission. www.klaus-schwarz-verlag.com Published in commission by Klaus Schwarz Verlag Berlin GmbH Printed in Hungary by Akaprint Budapest ISBN 978-3-87997-345-3

CONTENTS Louis Bazin - György Hazai Preface Erik-Jan Zürcher Introduction

7 9

I. Political History Erik-Jan Zürcher From Empire to Republic - problems of transition, continuity and change Kemal H. Karpat Changes in political participation and in the composition of political elites William Hale Turkey: The role of the military in politics Ersin Kalaycioglu From parliamentary uni-partyism to fragmented multi-partyism: The Odyssey of political regimes in the Turkish Republic Walter F. Weiker Representative bodies in Turkey Sina Ak§in Ottoman political parties, 1908-1922 Metin Heper The mainstream Political Parties in Turkey, 1923-1999 Jacob M. Landau Radical parties of the Republic

15 31 65 89 117 131 147 183

II. Social history Justin McCarthy Muslim population movements and mortality Fikret Adamr Die historiographische Kontroverse über die "Armenische Frage" und den Völkermord an den osmanischen Armeniern im Ersten Weltkrieg Paschalis M. Kitromilides The Greek-Turkish population exchange Wolf Hütteroth Bevölkerungsexplosion und innerstaatliche Wanderungen Yildinm Ko? The development of the working class in Turkey in the 20th century .... Ahmet i?duygu Labour migration to Europe and its consequences for Turkey Feroz Ahmad The growth and emancipation of the bourgeoisie

199 213 255 271 293 321 335

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III. Economic history Aykut Kansu Economic policies between 1908 and 1950 Mehmet Emin Yildirim Turkish economy between 1950-2000: policy and performance

359 379

IV. History of Ideas Niyazi Kizilyurek Le kémalisme §erif Mardin Islam in 19th and 20th century Turkey

397 443

V. History of culture and education Johann Strauss Literacy and the development of the primary and secondary educational system; the role of the alphabet and language reforms 479 Martin Strohmeier Hochschulen, Wissenschaft, Bibliotheken, Archive, Museen 517 VI. International relations Nur Bilge Criss Turkey's relations with the West (1908-1945) Nur Bilge Criss Turkish foreign policy and the West (1946-1999): Change and continuity in Turkish foreign policy Hough Poulton The 'Outer Turks': Turkey as a kin-state Andrew Mango Turkey's regional relations Bibliography of works cited in this volume

549 567 587 609 625

Preface A permanent need and hope of scholarly research work is the elaboration of a synthesis, a summary of achievements. At the end of the 19th century one saw the emergence of this demand in Oriental studies. Its best example was no doubt the "Grundriss der iranischen Philologie" (Strassburg 1895-1904), which for a long time was a useful manual in this field and a desired model for other disciplines. At the same time, Turkish studies were at the very beginning of their existence. As far as the basic subject of philology, namely the language is concerned, the language situation of the Turkish World in terms of the literary languages was very undeveloped. Whereas the European national states for a long time past reached the level of creating their own central idiom, a literary language, which was common for all speakers of the region, the area of Turkic languages was very far of this stage. In the case of the Turkic languages of the Russian Empire, scholars tried to discover the numerous spoken idioms, often referred to as dialects as many of these peoples did not have their own written languages. To the West, in the center of the Ottoman Empire, in Turkey, the language had a rich literary tradition going back to the 13th century. But at the end of the 19th, beginning of the 20th century this language found itself in a very contradictory situation: a great part of the social elite urged a reform of the literary language which was very far removed from the colloquial idiom. World War I with its political consequences created a completely new language situation in the area of Turkic peoples. New literary languages emerged; the background of philological studies entirely changed. But an international scholarly cooperation, the basis for a 'Grundriss' project was very difficult, almost impossible. Under these circumstances it is understandable that the issue of the creation of an up-to-date summary could not be put on the agenda of Turkic studies. It was only in 1951 at the International Congress of Orientalists in Istanbul, that eminent scholars of the discipline put forward the idea of the edition of a manual which became known as Fundamenta Philologicae Turcicae. For the founders of this project the word philologia was used in a very broad sense, which essentially corresponded to the character of the famous handbook 'Grundriss' of Iranian studies mentioned above. The actual results of this initiative are well known in the scholarly world. The first volume (Turkic languages) was published in 1959, the second volume (Literatures of Turkic peoples) in 1964 and the third volume (History of Turkic peoples before the Islamic period) in 2000. The publication of this volume was only possible thanks to the generous devotion of Prof. H. R. ROEMER to the cause of Fundamenta. The birth of this volume also clearly showed the difficulties for the continuity for this project. The immense changes in all fields of humanities, especially in the world of turcology, have created completely new conditions for any international scholarly project aiming a new synthesis.

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How to continue? This was the main subject of talks with Prof. H. R. ROEMER when Prof. L. BAZIN and myself visited him in Freiburg im Breisgau in the 1990s. As a result of our exchange of ideas we agreed that the structure of the following volumes, foreseen previously for history, should be discussed in a small circle of historian-turcologists. This meeting of experts from France, Germany, Greece, Hungary and the Netherlands took place in 1995 in Freiburg in Breisgau. There useful discussion led to a very good result. The participants agreed that a new and flexible structure should be found and applied. Taking into consideration that many manuals like 'Grundriss' or 'Fundamenta' were published over the last decades, we discussed that wherever sources were available and allowed, we should continue where those left off. The editor of this volume, Prof. Erik-Jan ZURCHER, one of the participants in the meeting in Freiburg in Breisgau proposed the idea of summarizing the results and achievements of research concerning the history of Turkey in the 20th century. His proposal was accepted unanimously and has resulted in the completion of this present volume. Scholars with experience in the organisation of collective volumes can imagine the difficulties involved in such an undertaking, and easily understand the problems the editor of the volume as well as the editors of the series must have encountered when completing this book. These problems fortunately belong to the past and scholars, turcologists and historians can now enjoy the fruit of this labour. Louis

BAZIN

GYÔRGY HAZAI

Introduction More than a decade has passed since Professor Gyorgy Hazai approached me, explaining that he had taken it upon himself to revive the renowned series Philologiae Turcicae Fundamenta, the first two volumes of which, dealing with the languages and literatures of the Turkic peoples, had appeared back in 1959 and 1964 at Franz Steiner Verlag in Wiesbaden.* A third volume on the pre-islamic history of the Turkic peoples, prepared by Hans Robert Roemer was then almost finished (it appeared posthumously in 2000 at Klaus Schwarz Verlag in Berlin). Prof. Hazai invited me to a round table in Freiburg, where, after a day of intense discussion, it was decided that three more volumes should appear, covering the history of the Turkic peoples since their conversion to Islam: one on the early modern and modern history of Central Asia; one on the Ottoman Empire and one on modern Turkey. Consequently, I left the Freiburg meeting as editor of the volume on modern Turkey, which, on my request, was defined as Turkey in the Twentieth Century, thus including the years of Young Turk rule in the Ottoman Empire and the years of national resistance after World War I, without which the development of Turkey in the first half of the Twentieth century cannot be properly understood. It is true of course, that this choice is problematic as late Ottoman history also include Greek, Armenian, Jewish and Arab history. But I felt strongly that this would be a lesser evil than to start the history of modern Turkey with the parthenogenesis of the republic in 1923. In the following year first the design of the project was finalised. It was agreed that the volume should be structured thematically around the most important sub'Philologiae Turcicae fundamenta. Iussu et auctoritate Unionis Universae Studiosorum Rerum Orientalium auxilio et opera Unitarum Nationum Educationis Scientiae Culturae Ordinis una cum praestantibus turcologis ediderunt Jean Deny, Kaare Granbechi", Helmuth Scheel, Zeki Velidi Togan. Tomus Primus. Aquis Mattiacis apud Franciscum Steiner A.D. MCMLIX [Wiesbaden, Steiner Verlag, 1959]. - Philologiae Turcicae fundamenta. Iussu et auctoritate Unionis Universae Studiosorum Rerum Orientalium auxilio et opera Unitarum Nationum Educationis Scientiae Culturae Ordinis una cum praestantibus turcologis ediderunt Louis Bazin, Alessio Bombaci, Jean DenyS", Tayyib Gôkbilgin, Fahir iz, Helmuth Scheel. Tomum secundum curavit et auxit, indices adiecit Pertev Naili Boratav. Aquis Mattiacis apud Franciscum Steiner A.D. MCMLXIV [Wiesbaden, Steiner Verlag, 1964], "History of the Turkic Peoples in the Pre-Islamic Period / Histoire des Peuples Turcs à l'Époque PréIslamique. Edited by / Édité par Hans Robert Roemer. With the assistance of / Avec l'assistance de Wolfgang-Ekkehard Scharlipp (= Philologiae et Historiae Turcicae Fundamenta. Tomus Primus / Philologiae Turcicae Fundamenta. Tomus Tertius. Ediderunt Louis Bazin, Gyôrgy Hazai). Klaus Schwarz Verlag, Berlin, 2000. See further the following publication: Philologiae Turcicae fundamenta. Iussu et auctoritate Unionis Universae. Studiosorum Rerum Orientalium auxilio et opera Unitarum Nationum Educationis Scientiae Culturae Ordinis una cum praestantibus turcologis ediderunt Louis Bazin, Alessio Bombaci, Jean DenyS", Tayyib Gôkbilgin, Fahir Iz, Helmuth Scheel. Tomum tertium curavit et auxit Claude Cahen. Manuscriptum impressum est. Aquis Mattiacis apud Franciscum Steiner A.D. MCMLXX [Wiesbaden, Steiner Verlag, 1970], Das Heft enthált die Studie von László Rásonyi (Les Turcs non-islamisés en occident: Péchénègues, Ouzes et Qiptchaqs, et leur rapports avec les Hongrois, 1-26) und von C. E. Bosworth (The Turks in the Islamic lands up to the mid-ll' h century, 1-20). Later the Editorial Board had given up to publish the volume devoted to the Pre-Islamic period of the history of Turcic peoples in form of the single booklets.

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jects in modern Turkish history. Twenty-eight of these themes were selected and grouped along the main subdivisions of historical studies: political history, social history, economic history, history of culture and ideas and international relations. Twenty-eight authors, including some of the biggest names in the field of Turkish Studies declared themselves ready to participate. The authors were given terms of reference for their contributions that reflected the quite ambitious goals the editors of the Fundamenta series had set themselves. The volume was not to be yet another historical overview of Turkey's history. It was, and is, meant to be a work of reference for researchers and students. Hence it was decided not to arrange the chapters in a strict chronological order. The chapters should each address a particular issue, give a brief historical overview that could count as a "state of the art" in the field, address the major questions and academic debates on the issue and then guide the reader to the scholarly literature and the available source materials. A tall order indeed and one, which, as the reader will be able to judge for himself, has been interpreted by different authors in different ways. In line with the policy of the Fundamenta project from the beginning, it was decided that articles in English, French and German would be included. While the editors of course recognise that English is the modern Latin, the lingua franca of international scholarship (much more so than in the fifties when the series started), it is nevertheless true that in the field of Turkish studies, just like for instance in the study of the ancient Near East or in Slavonic studies, academic production in French and in German is still so important that serious students of Turkish history need to have access to both. Between 1997 and 2003 the contributions came one by one, first those by Prof. Wolf Hütteroth and Prof. Jacob Landau, within a year of the original request, the last ones five to six years later, mostly due to the all-too-familiar overload of commitments of the authors. Unfortunately, two of the authors who had accepted, had to drop out halfway through the project, as a result of which the important themes of ethnicity in Turkey and popular culture have not been covered. To the great regret of the editors, Prof. Walter Weiker passed away just after he had handed in the first draft of his chapter. I finished it myself, while trying to respect the author's intentions as much as I could. When the bulk of the contributions had come in, the editing could start. As will be obvious to the reader, the authors have each interpreted the terms of reference in ways that reflect not only their own personal preferences, but also the different traditions in each of the sub-fields. This is the inevitable side-effect of the multidisciplinary approach we had opted for. The chapters were edited academically by me, something that resulted in long lists of queries and suggestions submitted to the authors to be used in their final versions. The final versions of the contributions were then prepared for printing by Prof. Hazai and his research group at the Academy of Sciences in Budapest, Hungary. There, sets of first, second and in some cases third proofs were produced to be read and corrected in Leiden. This to-ing and fro-ing between Leiden and Budapest proved a time-consuming affair that was not helped by the fact that I left the International Institute of Social Studies in Amsterdam and accepted the chair of Turkish Studies in Leiden and almost simultaneously (and unwisely) buried myself in administrative work as a member of the na-

11

tional research council and vice-dean of the faculty of arts. A turbulent period in my personal life in 2004 certainly did nothing to accelerate the production of Fundamenta. All the while, our authors have been patient, sometimes politely enquiring when publication was to be expected and sometimes asking for permission to use their material for publication as an article elsewhere, permission that was always granted. Extending a project like this over a decade also makes one aware of the change of speed in the world of data processing. Our first contributions were still typescripts (which were later scanned) and our early correspondence was still in the form of letters. Later contributions came in the shape of floppy disks (which quite often suffered damage), later we entered the world of attachments and cd-roms. For the proofs, of course, we reverted to the world of Gutenberg. The result of all the work now lies before you as Volume 4 of the Philologiae et Historiae Turcicae Fundamenta (the "et Historiae" was added to the original title starting with volume 3 in 2000). As before it is being published under the aegis of the Union of Oriental and Asian Studies. I hope that it will serve its purpose as a work of reference, a tool, for the beginning as well as the advanced scholar. One often hears it said that with the almost unlimited information now available at the click of a mouse, the time of the traditional reference work, like the classical encyclopaedia, is past. Those of us who teach are all too familiar with the phenomenon of students composing papers on the basis of extracts from Wikipedia and being genuinely surprised when it is explained to them that there is still a need for the handbook and the work of reference because it is there that we find not just facts but facts filtered through the expertise of the finest scholars in the field. This is very much the case with this volume of Fundamenta. It is perhaps not an exaggeration to say that in a sense this collection is not only an overview of the scholarly achievements about the development of Turkey in the twentieth century, it is also a monument to a generation of scholars, the generation that dominated the field of Turkish studies between the early seventies and the nineties of last century. A word about our editorial policy to our users is to follow here. We have aimed for a general consistency in the way the chapters are presented, but only for consistency within the chapter where the rendering of personal names, place names and terms is concerned The academic traditions of the different scholars contributing to this volume, who range from philologists to economists are so différent that imposing a single system would be a bit unnatural. Where references are concerned, we have opted for a system with source references in the text sparing use of explanatory footnotes. The books and articles referred to in the chapters have been collected in one single bibliography at the back of the volume for easier reference (another exceedingly time consuming task). We hope that this bibliography will form a solid starting point for further studies.

12 I should like to end by thanking those who have aided in the editing and the production of the volume: Fahmi B. Sahla in Budapest and Saskia Gieling (who worked long hours as a volunteer) and Umut Azak (who did the same as an assistant) in Leiden. That the book took so long to be published is certainly no reflection on their efforts. I thank the series editors, Professors Louis Bazin and Gyorgy Hazai for their continued belief in the project, but most of all, I would like to thank our authors for their patience and loyalty, in the hope that they feel the appearance of volume 4 of the Fundamenta makes it worthwhile. ERIK-JAN ZÜRCHER

From Empire to Republic - problems of transition, continuity and change ERIK-JAN ZÜRCHER

Introduction: identity and heritage Issues of identity are subject of lively debate in contemporary Turkey, even at the start of the twenty-first century. 'Who are we?' is a question being raised constantly by Turkish intellectuals and politicians in newspaper articles and during televised debates. A book called "The Turkish identity' (Türk kimligi) published in 1993 by Bozkurt Güven?, was one of the bestsellers of the nineteen nineties. In 1996, members of the Turkish Studies Association counted more than twenty recent Turkish books on identity (FLNDLEY, 2000,29). Several developments have conspired over the past decades to make the identity of the inhabitants of the Republic of Turkey a burning issue. In the first place, the keenly felt desire on the part of the political and business elite to 'become a part of Europe', something which is seen as identical to becoming a full member of the European Union, has made it extremely sensitive to perceived or real attempts by European politicians to define European identity in cultural or religious terms - and so to exclude Muslim nations. In the second place, the growth of Islamic activist currents (be they political like the milli görü§ current, which had its roots in the Nakshbendi derwish order, or social and cultural like the different branches of the Nurcu movement) has challenged the concepts underlying the secularist and Turkish nationalist order established in the nineteen twenties. When the Welfare Party (Refah Partist) won the municipal elections of 1994 and the national elections of 1995, this order appeared to be tottering on the brink. Since then, of course, it has been forcibly reestablished by the army, with the active support of the big media groups, the state prosecution service and a number of civic Kemalist organizations. Thirdly, the ethnic tensions between the Kurdish community and the state erupted into open warfare between the Turkish army and the Kurdish nationalists of the PKK between 1984 and 1999. The Kurdish war in itself of course made the question 'Who is a Turk?' highly explosive, but apart from that, the conflict acted as a catalyst, dramatically increasing ethnic awareness among minority communities, such as the £erkes, Laz and Türkmen. The stridency of the radical Sunni Islamic movements and the Kurdish nationalist struggle both influenced Turkey's largest religious minority, that of the Alevites. In the nineties, they too started to emphasize their sub-national identity, be it religious or cultural (many Alevites claiming to be the 'real' or 'original' Turks). Finally, the collapse of the Soviet-Union and the struggles of Muslims in Bosnia, Chechnya, Nagorno-Karabagh and Kosovo served to remind many Turks of religious and ethnic loyalties transcending the borders of the republic. In the debates engendered by these contemporary developments in Turkey people have referred quite often to the Ottoman past and to the Ottoman legacy of the republic. Especially in the increasingly influential Islamist circles there was much talk

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about a 'New Ottomanism', a reappraisal of, and pride in, the Ottoman past and 'Ottoman values', but the interest was broader than just these circles. Historical drama series about the exploits of the early Sultans were produced for television and the 700 th anniversary of the founding of the Ottoman Empire in 1999 was widely celebrated with the support of the state (KARPAT, 2000, vii-xxii; 1-28). That this soul-searching goes on even after 75 years of republican rule is an indication that it is important to try to look again at the problem of the Ottoman heritage if we are to understand the historical development of modern Turkey - both its achievements and its unresolved problems - , but if we are to say anything useful about the continuity - or lack of it - between the Ottoman Empire and the Republic of Turkey in a scholarly sense, we have, I think, to make it clear from the outset that sensible comparisons are only possible between the late Ottoman Empire, primarily the so-called 'second constitutional period' (ikinci mesrutiyet), and the early, or 'Kemalist' republic, that is to say: between the empire after 1908 and the republic up to 1950. Comparisons between the empire and the republic are of necessity too general to be of much use. The image of the 'New Turkey' For foreign observers, the emergence of a Turkish nation-state out of the ashes of the Ottoman Empire in 1923 was a fascinating phenomenon. This is reflected in the large number of publications devoted to Turkey, which appeared in the first fifteen years after its establishment. Without exception these publications take as their central theme the essential novelty of the Turkish Republic, using the Ottoman past to contrast and highlight the achievements of the new state and regime. This is immediately apparent when one looks at the titles of the books: Eliot Grinnell MEARS, Modern Turkey: a poliitco-economic interpretation (1924), Berthe GEORGES-GAULIS, La nouvelle Turquie (1924); Richard HARTMANN, Im neuen Anatolien (1928); Kurt ZLEMKE, Die neue Türkei (1930); Karl KLINGHARDT, Die Schleier Fallen! Die Türkei in der Verwandlung (1933 - a radio play); Henry Elisha ALLEN, The Turkish Transformation (1935); Sir Harry LUKE, The old Turkey and the new (1936); Lilo LINKE, Allah dethroned (1937); August, RITTER VON KRAL, Das Land Kemal Atatürks. Der Werdegang der modernen Türkei (1937); Edmund SCHOPEN, Die Neue Türkei (1938); anonymous, The new Turkey (1938), a special supplement to The Times of London. When interest in Turkey was rekindled with its incorporation into the Western alliance in the fifties, a new wave of publications hit the shore, with their titles still reflecting the idea of 'novelty': Geoffrey LEWIS, Modern Turkey (1955); Eleanor BLSBEE, The new Turks (1956); trfan ORGA, Phoenix ascendant. The rise of modern Turkey (1958); Barbro KARABUDA, Goodbye to the fez (1959). One can speculate about the reasons for the popularity of the 'New Turkey' with European and American writers. One may be that it earned a hopeful message of renewal and vitality after the devastation of World War I. Another, that the story of a new and vigorous state contrasted sharply with what many saw as the muddling on and the broken promises of the European democracies. Yet another, that Turkey was only the second country in Asia (after Japan) to defeat a great European power and

From Empire to Republic

17

force it to recognize its equal status. The fact that the Kemalists so openly and emphatically rejected their Ottoman cultural heritage and proclaimed European civilization to be the only true civilization, also made the Turkish experiment a very flattering experience for Europeans. Whatever the reasons, the 'New Turkey' approach also reflects the outlook of the official historiography of the republic, which for political and ideological reasons emphasized the break with the Ottoman past and, in particular, with the immediately preceding Young Turk period. After the state-sponsored introduction of the Turkish History Thesis (Turk Tarih Tezi) from 1931 onwards, the Ottoman Empire was presented in Turkish history books as just one in a long line of states founded by Turks and the republic as an entirely new state, with the 'national struggle' (milli miicadele) as a pre-republican phase. This emphasis had both ideological and practical political reasons: ideological because the new regime wanted to make a forced changeover from Islamic and Middle eastern civilization to that of Europe, at the same time redefining 'Turkish identity' as something entirely separate from the Ottoman one; political, because the Kemalist leadership had captured a nationalist resistance movement initiated by the former Young Turk leadership and supported by its rank and file, and transformed it into a new party and a new state. The former Young Turk leaders and Atatiirk's comrades-in-arms from the days of the national resistance movement were purged politically in 1925-26, but the legitimacy of the new regime demanded that their memory should be erased as well. This historical tradition, which has its starting point in Atatiirk's own great overview of the years 1919-1926, the 1927 Nutuk, dominates Turkish textbooks to this day (ZÜRCHER, 1984,27-31). From the fifties onwards, a different approach, pioneered by people like Tank Zafer TUNAYA, Niyazi BERKES and later §erif MARDiN in Turkey and, of course, by Bernard LEWIS in his famous The emergence of modern Turkey (1961) gained ground, at least in scholarly circles. In this approach the republic was seen as the culmination of processes of modernization and secularization which had started in the Ottoman Empire a century earlier. The Young Turk era especially was seen as a 'laboratory for the republic'. Although undoubtedly less anachronistic and more fruitful than the official Kemalist historiography, the danger of this approach is that it tends to become teleological - in other words: it tends to see the secular and national republic as the only and inescapable final stage of history and in the process to reduce late Ottoman history to the status of prehistory of the republic. Another weakness of these major works of the fifties and sixties was that that they tended to adhere rather rigidly to the 'modernization paradigm', which for the Middle East was epitomized by Daniel LERNER's influential study of 1958, The passing of traditional society. Modernizing the Middle East. In this paradigm, the history of the late Ottoman Empire and the Turkish Republic is seen as a struggle between enlightened modernists and 'traditional' sections of society, whose position is gradually being eroded. The Kemalist republic and its policies are interpreted as the decisive victory of the modernists, while those sections of 'traditional' society resisting the reform policies of the Tanzimat, the Young Turks and the Kemalists are equated with (religious) reaction, or, to use the Young Turk/Kemalist label: irtica. In the nineteen nineties the

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struggle for control between Islamists and secularists in Turkey led many historians back to this interpretation of developments in twentieth century Turkey.1 The following is an attempt to establish the degree of continuity and change between the empire and the republic without falling into the most obvious ideological traps. In doing so I shall attempt to deal with geography, demography, economy, legal/political structures, leadership, state apparatus, ideology and policies, focussing in each case on the main topics for debate and on the most important literature. The new borders One look at the map suffices to make clear that in geographical terms the new republic was very different from the empire of even 1912. The Arab provinces which had formed part of the empire for four hundred years had been lost, as had the southern Balkan ('Rumelian') provinces which had been Ottoman since the fifteenth, sometimes even the fourteenth century and from which hailed the largest part of the Ottoman bureaucratic and military elite. Losing such important areas clearly was a traumatic affair. At the same time, it is important to understand the nature of the new borders. They were not natural borders in any sense, but determined essentially by the political and military realities of 1918. The 'national borders' were laid down in the National Pact (Misak-i Milli) adopted by the last Ottoman parliament in February 1920. In essence these were none other than the armistice lines of October 1918 (although confusingly two versions of the text seem to have been in existence from the very start, one calling for independence of the Ottoman-Muslim majority within the armistice lines and the other within and without the armistice lines). (ZÜRCHER, 2000, 170) In other words: the territory of the republic was essentially that which was still defended by Ottoman arms in 1918, a fact which was recognized in so many words by Mustafa Kemal Pasha, the leader of the national resistance movement. (ZÜRCHER, 2000, 169) It is important to note that in 1918-19 not even nationalist officers like Mustafa Kemal objected to the terms of the Armistice of Moudros as such - they objected to the infringement of the allies, primarily the British, of the terms, which had been laid down. (ZÜRCHER, 1998; UNAN, 60) These infringements in part consisted of the occupation of territory, which had still been in Ottoman hands at noon on October, 31st, when the armistice formally came into effect. The most important of these were the area around Mosul in the East and that around Iskenderun on the Mediterranean. Who held what in the inland areas of the Syrian desert was completely unclear. This would later create problems, during the peace negotiations in Lausanne in 1922-23. The Turkish delegation came to Lausanne with a brief to insist on a new Southern border which would run from a point south of Iskenderun on the Mediterranean coast, along the Euphrates and then on to the Iranian border, thus including the province of Mosul in the new Turkey. As we know, it was unsuccessful in its demands. The border with the French protectorate of Syria was determined in 1

Clear examples are Feroz AHMAD in his The making of modern Turkey, London: Routledge, 1993 and Sina AK§1N, who, in the new edition of his 1967 Ph.D. thesis on the insurrection in Istanbul in April 1909 (31 Mart olayi, Ankara: Sevin?, 1970) called it a 'fundamentalist' movement, although in fact in his original thesis he supported the opposite view (291).

From Empire to Republic

19

Lausanne as it had been in the Franco-Turkish agreement of 1920 and ran just south of the track of the Baghdad railway. Arbitration by the League of Nations awarded the province of Mosul to Iraq in 1926, but Turkey managed to regain the district of Iskenderun (or Hatay) in 1939. For the Arab provinces under British occupation on the day of the armistice, the National Pact demanded a plebiscite, but not automatic inclusion in the post-war Ottoman state. While disillusionment with the attitude of the Arabs during the World War probably played a role, the leadership in Ankara was also realistic enough to see that any reconquest of the Arab lands was beyond their means. There were attempts to cooperate with Arab nationalists in 1919-1921, but inclusion of the former Arab provinces (Damascus, Baghdad, Basra, Hejaz) was never seriously contemplated. On the Caucasian border, the National Pact demanded a plebiscite for the three provinces of Kars, Ardahan and Batumi. These had been lost to Russia in 1878, regained after the collapse of the Russian army in 1918 and lost again to the British and their Armenian and Georgian allies in 1919. The Turkish nationalist general Kazim Karabekir conquered Kars and Ardahan in a short war against the Republic of Armenia in 1920-21, thus making the plebiscite superfluous in these two provinces. This left only the fate of Batumi to be decided. The threat of a clash with the Red Army and the need for Soviet military and financial support led to a compromise with Russia, which left Batumi and its hinterland in the hands of Soviet-controlled Georgia. In the West, the National Pact foresaw a plebiscite in Western Thrace (Garbi Trakya) with its Muslim majority. When the Turkish delegation went to Lausanne, it also brought with it the claim that a number of Aegean islands adjoining the Anatolian mainland should be ceded by Greece. Like the demands for inclusion of Iskenderun and Mosul, these claims, too, were rejected. In the end, the Turks acquiesced, although the fact that the Lausanne treaty left sizeable Turkish and Muslim communities outside the new national borders caused acrimonious debates in the Turkish National Assembly (ZURCHER, 1999b). Thus, in essence the borders of 1918 which were recognized in the peace treaty of Lausanne in 1923 were no different in principle from those established in 1878 or in 1913 — they were what the Ottomans had managed to hold on to and not the result of any principled choice for a 'Turkish' homeland. In this sense the borders of Turkey were very different from the lines drawn in Eastern Europe after 1918, which at least pretended to do justice to the right to self determination of nations. The Republic of Turkey was created within Ottoman borders and as a result the society within those borders was still a multi-ethnic, multi-lingual one, with a large majority of Turks and significant minorities of Kurds, Arabs and many smaller groups. It was far less multiethnic that it had been, however. Demographic change The composition of the population of the new state was very different even from that of the same geographical area in late Ottoman times. This was the result of large-scale migration and warfare in the decade prior to the proclamation of the republic in 1923. The demographic effects of the ten years of warfare between 1912 and 1922 cannot be

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overstated. Mortality among the Anatolian population had been incredibly high. The Ottoman army had recruited most of its soldiers among the peasant population of Anatolia and a very large proportion of the 8 0 0 , 0 0 0 fatal casualties (half of them due to disease rather than to wounds) of the campaigns in the Caucasus, Gallipoli, Palestine, Mesopotamia, Galicia and Romania turn up in the population statistics of Anatolia. Furthermore, from the spring of 1915 onwards, eastern Anatolia had become a war theatre itself. This had led to great suffering among the Muslim population which in part had followed the retreating Ottoman armies. The movement of troops stimulated the spread of epidemics, notably typhus in winter and cholera in summer (ZURCHER 1996). The decade of war also marked the end of the old Christian communities in Anatolia, primarily those of the Greek Orthodox and the Armenians. The Armenian community was ravaged by the large-scale persecutions organized by the Young Turks in 1 9 1 5 - 1 6 . Massacres, death marches and neglect combined to kill some 6 0 0 to 7 0 0 , 0 0 0 Armenians, which probably constituted at least forty percent of the community as a whole. World War I had been followed by an independence war during which campaigns had been fought in the east and the west, in addition to guerrilla action in the south and the west and civil war between supporters of the Istanbul government and the nationalists in the interior. On the western front the retreating and fleeing Greek forces had committed large-scale atrocities against the Muslim population and some of the advancing Turkish troops had acted with comparable brutality against the Greek Orthodox. All in all, as a result of war, epidemics and starvation, some 2.5 million Anatolian Muslims had lost their lives, as well as up to 8 0 0 , 0 0 0 Armenians and may be 3 0 0 , 0 0 0 Greeks. All in all, the population of Anatolia declined by 20 percent through mortality - a percentage twenty times higher than that of France, which was the hardest hit West European country in World War I. The effects of war and disease were spread unevenly, however: in some eastern provinces fully half of the population had perished and another quarter were refugees. There were 12 provinces, most of them in the west, where more than 30 per cent of adult women were widows.2 Turkey after the war was an empty country. Travellers who visit the country in the twenties and thirties without exception remark on the desertedness of it countryside (HARTMANN, 86; LlNKE, 2 7 8 ; ZURCHER 2 0 0 2 ) .

Apart from mortality, the Anatolian population also showed the effects of largescale migration. All through the nineteenth en early twentieth centuries Muslims had fled, or been forced to flee, from territories, which were lost by the empire to Christian states: Russia, Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia and Greece. Eventually, these people had been resettled in Anatolia (often on former Armenian properties) and there they and their children now made up about a third of the post-war population. The loss of the predominantly Christian areas and the immigration of Muslims had meant that in

2

These data have been taken from Justin MCCARTHY, Muslims and minorities. The population of Ottoman Anatolia and the end of the empire, New York: NY University Press, 1983, and in particular from chapter 7, The end of Ottoman Anatolia. Although MCCARTHY has often been criticized for his interpretation of the Armenian massacres, I am not aware of a better analysis of population statistics than his.

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1913, for the first time in its entire history, the Ottoman Empire had a Turkish majority. During and after the world war almost all of the surviving Armenians left the country for Russia, France or the United States. In the aftermath of the Balkan War up to 200.000 Greeks (out of 450,000 living on the Aegean coast) had been forced to leave Western Anatolia. Three quarters of them returned in the wake of the Greek occupation in 1919.3 When the Greek army in Anatolia collapsed in 1922, almost the whole of the Greek community in the west, fled to Greece. This situation was then made official with the agreement on the exchange of populations (the mubadele), which was annexed to the Peace Treaty of Lausanne. Under this agreement the last remaining Greek Orthodox communities of Anatolia, mainly those of the Black Sea coast (the Pontic Greeks) and the Karamanlis (Turkish speaking Orthodox from Central Anatolia), were exchanged for the Muslim community in Greece. In total about a million Greeks left Anatolia in 1922-24, and about 400,000 Muslims from Greece came in. The migratory movements of World War I and after meant a net population loss of 10 percent, which should be added to the 20 per cent loss due to mortality. The changes in population meant that culturally also, Anatolia in 1923 was a completely different place from what it had been in 1913. The larger Christian communities were practically gone and the population of about 13 million was now 98 per cent Muslim, as against 80 per cent before the war. Linguistically, only two large groups were left: Turks and Kurds, with half a dozen smaller, but still important language groups. The country was also more rural than it had been. Only 18 per cent of the people now lived in towns of 10,000 inhabitants or over, as against 25 per cent before the war (MCCARTHY 1983, chapter 7). This reflected the fact that the Christian communities had been more heavily urbanized. They had also completely dominated the modern sector of the economy: the cotton mills of the £ukurova, the silk of Bursa, the exports of figs and raisins in the West, shipping, banking, the railways, hotels and restaurants: all had been almost exclusively in the hands of Christians before the war. In 1923 Turkey was not only a country almost without managers and engineers - it was a country almost without trained waiters, welders or electricians. It would take at least a generation to rebuild the skills that had disappeared. A new state? The republic created out of the ruins of Ottoman Anatolia in October 1923 was, of course, legally and formally a new state. It was only one of the many new states which were created out of the Ottoman Empire and which carried part of the Ottoman heritage with them. Comparisons with the experiences of other successor states in the Balkans and the Arab World (such as pioneered by Carl BROWN in his Imperial 3

The population movements are described in Engin BERBER, Sancili Yillar: Izmir 1918-1922. Miitareke ve Yunan iggali doneminde Izmir sancagi, Ankara: Ayraf, 1997, 57-70 and 317-330 (for the Sanjak of Izmir only) and by Erkan §EN?EKERCI, Turk devriminde Celal Bayar (1918-1960), 3538. The latter work is based in part on the memoirs of Bayar, who together with the military commanders Pertev (Demirhan) and Cafer Tayyar (Egilmez) was in charge of the deportations.

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Legacy. The Ottoman Imprint on the Balkans and the Middle East) are helpful in understanding the way the Ottoman heritage continued to play a role in the 'new' states. At the same time, it is evident that in some ways Turkey is a very different heir to the empire from, say, Syria or Albania. It was created by the dominant ethnic and cultural elements of the empire and it inherited not one of the limbs, but the head and heart of the empire, its cultural and administrative centre. It took over a disproportionate part of the military and civil bureaucracy and of the people with political experience. One could argue that this position made defining the identity of the new state more, not less, difficult than in any of the other successor states, which could distance themselves from the Ottoman past by redefining it as a foreign occupation and seek inspiration from a mythical 'national' golden age before the Ottoman conquest. In this respect, the Turkish experience can perhaps be usefully compared to that of Austria. Where pre-war inhabitants of the German speaking parts of the Habsburg Empire had thought of themselves as subjects of a catholic and dynastic empire and at the same time as Germans, the elite of the new republic of Austria almost had to invent a 'small Austrian identity' from scratch. So the Turks, too, who had thought of themselves as Muslim subjects of an Islamic empire, now had to start thinking of themselves as Turks. In the following paragraph we shall look at the legal, political and institutional aspects of this transition. The legal framework On the face of it, the question when the change from empire to republic took place seems easy enough to answer. After all, the Republic of Turkey (Turkiye Cumhuriyeti) was proclaimed on 29 October 1923. But the Ottoman sultanate had been abolished almost a year earlier, on 1 November 1922. The delegation which went to Lausanne that month represented 'the government of the Great National Assembly'. Very well, but what state was that the government of? One could argue that it was, in fact, the Ottoman Empire, because the imperial constitution of 1876, as modified in 1908-9, remained in force until the promulgation of the new republican constitution of April 1924. Nor had the dynasty altogether disappeared. After the deposition of the last sultan in November 1922, his cousin Abdiilmecit Efendi, had been proclaimed caliph. The concept of a purely religious caliphate was alien to both Islamic and Ottoman tradition, however, and there can be little doubt that in the eyes of the population Abdiilmecit was as much a monarch as Vahdettin had been. Many in the leadership, too, felt an emotional bond of loyalty to the dynasty which they and their forefathers had served (ATATURK, 684). This was, in fact, the main reason why the republican leadership decided to abolish the caliphate in March 1924. On the other hand, as early as January 1921, the national assembly in Ankara had proclaimed the 'Law on Fundamental Organisation' (Te§kilat-i Esasiye Kanunu). This law has generally been regarded by Turkish historians as the first republican constitution. It is seen as the ultimate source of political legitimacy, as is shown by the fact that both the future leaders of the Democratic Party in their famous dortlii takrir

From Empire to Republic

23

(Memorandum of the Four), which issued in multi-party politics in 1946 and the generals who staged a coup against the Democrats in May 1960 in their first official statement referred to it. Strictly speaking, this view is incorrect. The Ottoman constitution was not abrogated in 1921 and the Law on Fundamental Organisation was primarily an instrument to enable the nationalist de-facto government in Anatolia to function, while Istanbul was occupied. It was in force side by side with the Ottoman constitution ( A K I N , 197-217). At the same time, it cannot be denied that the law, with its emphasis on unrestricted popular sovereignty, vested in the nation and exercised solely by the national assembly on the nation's behalf is an expression of republicanism in the radical tradition of the French revolution and sits awkwardly with a system of constitutional monarchy ( T U N A Y A , 1957). In the period between the abolition of the sultanate and the proclamation of the republic, Mustafa Kemal Pasha in his public statements said that the nationalists had founded 'a new state', although at this time he still maintained that it resembled neither a monarchy nor a republic and was, in fact, sui generis. The term 'Tiirkiye', which had been used occasionally as a synonym for 'Ottoman Empire' by him and others, now became the sole term describing the country (UNAN, 70;92). The conclusion, therefore, has to be that in the legal sense the transition from empire to republic was a gradual one, which took place between February 1921 and April 1924. The leadership The political leadership, both of the resistance movement between 1918 and 1922 and of the republic from 1923 onwards, consisted of a well-defined group of people, who shared a number of characteristics. They were, almost without exception, people who had made their careers in the service of the state, predominantly military officers. They were also men of a certain age (between 38 and 45 years old in 1923), of Muslim descent (but not necessarily Turkish), born more often than not in the old Rumeli (Balkans) provinces or Istanbul. In fact 84 percent of the leaders of the republic between 1923 and 1945 hailed from there, with 62 percent coming from Europe. (ZURCHER, 2005) They do not seem to have hailed from a particular social group in terms of wealth: the fathers include pasha's and large landowners, but also small-time civil servants. They seem to have had an almost exclusively urban background, but their most distinctive characteristic was that they were products of the modern educational establishments of the Empire, created by the Tanzimat reformers of the nineteenth century. Apart from their social characteristics, they also shared a number of experiences. They had played a role in the politics of the second constitutional period (1908-18) and even before that, in the preparations for the constitutional revolution. Almost without exception they were former members of the Committee of Union and Progress (tttihad ve Terakki Cemiyeti. They were bound together by a common past which included a number of the greatest upheavals in modern Ottoman history: the constitutional revolution of 1908; the suppression of the counterrevolution of April 1909 by the Action Army (Hareket Ordusu); working as volunteers to organise the

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Beduin resistance in Tripolitania against the Italian invaders in 1911; the Balkan War disaster of 1913; the World War and the resistance movement after the war. For the typical leading Kemalist politician of the nineteen twenties these were all part of his personal curriculum vitae. I have attempted to show in my own work (ZÜRCHER, 1984) that the continuity extends beyond the fact that Young Turk and Kemalist leaders hailed from a common pool. My thesis was and is that it was in fact the leadership of the Committee of Union and Progress, which planned and prepared the national resistance struggle after 1918 and that Mustafa Kemal Pasha and his circle of adherents only gradually gained control of the movement. Since then, both extended research on the Unionist underground in Istanbul (CRISS, 1999, 9 ff) and on the earliest regional resistance organizations, which held 28 congresses between 1918 and 1920 (TANÖR, 1992, 52 ff), have yielded more information on the central role of the Unionist organizations and individuals. The great military victory of August-September 1922 made Mustafa Kemal (Gazi since 1921) the undisputed political leader. In the years after the proclamation of the republic, more particularly between the promulgation of the Law on the Maintenance of Order (Takrir-i Siikun Kanunu) in March 1925 and the political trials of JuneAugust 1926, the remaining members of the top echelon of the former Committee of Union and Progress as well as those commanders of the national resistance movement, who had played a leading role in the start of that movement (in some cases even before Mustafa Kemal Pasha arrived in Anatolia) were eliminated physically or politically (ZÜRCHER, 1991; TUN?AY, 1981). From then on, Mustafa Kemal Pasha ruled unchallenged. Gradually, younger men were brought into the political centre, but throughout the years of the Kemalist single party state and to a certain extent even beyond it, into the nineteen fifties, the key positions remained in the hands of people who had made their political and military careers during the Young Turk era. The state apparatus In the execution of its policies, the political leadership could count on the support of the large bureaucratic and military apparatus which had been built up under the empire from the eighteen forties onwards. This is not to say that the republic took over the servants of the empire unquestioningly. There had been purges in the recent past: many civil servants who had compromised themselves by corruption or spying on behalf of the Hamidian regime had been thrown out by the Young Turks after the constitutional revolution of 1908 (and sometimes chased out by the public). Many of the officers who had risen from the ranks under the old regime had been purged by Enver Pasha in 1913-14 and replaced with officers who had graduated from the modern military colleges. The Kemalists, too, resorted to purges. On 25 September 1923 law 347 was passed, which made possible the dismissal of army officers who had not joined the national resistance movement. Three years later, on 26 May 1926 a similar law was passed (Law 854) for civil servants, but the scope of the purges seems to have been fairly limited and as early as 24 May 1928 law 1289 created a review panel for officers and civil servants who felt they had been wrongfully dismissed (JAESCHKE, 73).

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In essence, therefore, the army of the republic was the army of the late empire. It was the army, and certainly also the gendarmerie, which allowed the republican regime to extend its control into every corner of the land and into every village, to a degree the empire had never achieved (ZURCHER 2002). In fact: one could argue that it was this establishment of effective control, more than any of the famous Kemalist reforms (clothing, alphabet or calendar), which heralded the arrival of the modern state in Anatolia. The bureaucracy by and large was the imperial bureaucracy. In the early years of the national struggle, the nationalists weeded out members of the provincial bureaucracy who were considered unreliable because of their links to the Istanbul government. The persons concerned were mostly provincial and district governors (valis and kaymakams), who had been political appointees. On the lower levels the provincial administration remained intact and this enabled the nationalists to conscript soldiers and raise taxes in the areas under their control. Another branch of the bureaucracy, the Ottoman telegraph service, proved itself loyal to the nationalists and rendered sterling service to the nationalists. At the peace conference of Lausanne in 1923, the Turks first resisted Allied demands for a general amnesty after the conclusion of peace, then they gave in but reserved the right to ban 150 undesirable Ottoman Muslims from the country. The number of 150 was completely arbitrary and the names were only filled in (with some difficulty) more than a year after the conclusion of peace (SOYSAL, 1985). There was a number of army officers and bureaucrats among those banned, but obviously it concerned only a very small number of people. In the field of finance, the republic inherited two separate bureaucratic structures from the empire. The one was the regular ministry of finance, which had been thoroughly modernized under the Young Turk finance minister Cavid Bey, and the other the administration of the Ottoman Public Debt, which since 1881 had taken control of the collection of taxes, duties and excises in areas such as the sale of tobacco and tobacco products, salt and fisheries on behalf of the European creditors of the Empire. Although the new Turkey shouldered part of the Ottoman debt at the peace of Lausanne in 1923, the autonomous operation of the Public Debt Administration was terminated and the existing monopolies were taken over by the Turkish state. In 1932 they were united under the Directorate of Monopolies. The monopolies provided vital income for the new state in the twenties and thirties. Of all the branches of the state bureaucracy, the one to undergo the greatest change under the republic was undoubtedly the religious institution. The passing of the law on the unification of education in 1924 and the introduction of a European-style family law in 1926 meant that the secular state now took direct control of these important fields and that the role of the religious establishment contracted accordingly. The abolition of the Caliphate and the simultaneous replacement of the office of the §eyhulisldm, the highest religious authority, by a directorate under the prime minister, certainly meant that the top of the religious establishment lost much of its room for manoeuvre. On the other hand, the reforms of 1916, when the §eyhulisldm had been removed from the cabinet and had lost his jurisdiction over the §eriat courts, the foundations (evkaf) and the religious colleges (medreses) had already severely circumscribed its function. The fact that Mustafa Kemal Pasha could push through his reforms almost without opposition from within the senior clergy is testimony to the

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degree to which the Ottoman religious establishment had already been bureaucratized and brought under state control in the late Ottoman Empire. Not only the important branches of the state were inherited by the republic, the means of reproducing these branches also remained virtually unchanged. The great schools of the empire, modeled on the French grandes écoles, which had bred the officers and civil servants of the Tanzimat, Hamidian and Young Turk eras, continued to do so under the republic. When the military academy was closed by the occupying powers in Istanbul, it was provisionally relocated to Ankara during the national struggle. In 1923 the school moved back to Istanbul, but in 1936 it was moved to Ankara once more, where it has since remained. Its function and way of working remained essentially unchanged. The same is true for the Civil Service Academy (.Miilkiye), which continued in Istanbul and was reconstituted as the Political Science Faculty in Ankara in 1935. It continued to provide the state with its governors, diplomats and administrators. In time both institutions also became centres of Kemalist indoctrination, where nationalism, republicanism and secularism were articles of faith for staff and students alike - a situation, which continues to this day. The Unionists had tried to reform the medreses, by including science in their curriculum, but the Kemalists thought they were beyond redemption and closed them down in 1924. From now on, the education of religious specialists was in the hand of the Faculty of Theology of the university in Istanbul and two dozen imam-hatip okullari (schools for prayer leaders and preachers), but the former was closed down in 1935 and the latter over the years 1930-31. The decline in the level of religious learning only became apparent when the older Ottoman-educated generation started to fade, however, something which can be roughly dated from the mid-nineteen forties. The party A new instrument at the disposal of the Republican regime was the People's Party {Halk Firkasi, Halk Partisi), which from 1925 onwards and with the exception of a three-month period in 1930 was the only legal political party in Turkey. Of course, the country had had quite wide experience with political parties since 1908 and between 1913 and 1918 it had already lived under a one-party regime, but there were major differences. In the second constitutional period power ultimately rested with the secret, extra-parliamentary committee, which dominated both the parliamentary party and the cabinet. In the republic, the party was created by Mustafa Kemal in the national assembly and it functioned to a large extent as an annex to the state. Between 1925 and 1929, the emergency legislation in force meant that the parliamentary party abdicated all of its powers to the cabinet, so, ironically, the parliamentary party exercised no power at all during the time when most of the radical reforms were adopted. In these years reform laws were usually adopted unanimously or with very large majorities, but the number of votes cast was often less than half of the total (TUNÇAY, 1981, 178). From 1930 onwards, the People's Party, especially through its educational arm, the People's Houses (Halk Evleri), became an instrument for indoctrination and mobilization, but it always remained under tight state control. This culminated in the formal unification of state and party in 1936. The CUP had

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also reached out to the public through its 'clubs' and through the branches of the Turkish Hearth (Turk Ocagi) movement, but these had never been under the kind of central state control that the People's Houses were under during the republic (CAVDAR, 1984). Ideology If it is true that there was a high degree of continuity in the political leadership and in the state apparatus, the picture is more complicated where the aims and underlying ideology of the regime is concerned (DUMONT, 1984). Before the outbreak of the Balkan War in 1912, the heated ideological debates among the Young Turks, all of whom were fundamentally concerned with ways to save the Ottoman state, had centered around two main questions. The first concerned the degree of westernization needed to achieve the strengthening of state and society and in particular the way in which the use of Western science and technology could be reconciled with continued adherence to Turkish culture and Islamic civilization. As MARDiN and HANtOGLU have shown, the vast majority of Ottoman intellectuals (who were at the same time in the service of the state) came to believe from the midnineteenth century onwards that westernization was the only way to achieve material progress and political strength. There was a great deal of popular resentment against the westernizing ways of the elite, but no strong anti-western intellectual current to give it direction (HANtOGLU, 1995, 7-18). The debates among the elite were about the degree of westernization needed and about the desirability of reconciling borrowing from Europe with the maintenance of an Islamic value system. Equally widespread was a belief in modern science and biological materialism. Relatively few Young Turks were committed positivists in the strict sense (Ahmet Riza being the bestknown example), but nearly all were influenced by positivism in a broad sense. Its combination of belief in progress through science and intellectual elitism appealed to the Young Turks, many of whom were influenced by Le Bon's deeply distrustful ideas on mass psychology (NYE).4 Without exception, however, Young Turk thinkers defended the idea that 'real' Islam (which they contrasted with the obscurantism of the clerics of their day) was receptive to, and quite compatible with, science. Even if they were not religious men themselves, they regarded religion as an important 'national cement' (ZURCHER, 2005a). The second question, which often occupied the same Young Turk authors, was that of the communal basis of any future Ottoman state, whether it should be based on a single nationality, on a voluntary union of nationalities or perhaps on religion. By the early twentieth century sincere belief in a 'union of (ethnic) elements' (ittihad-i anasir) was probably limited to some Greek, Arab and Albanian intellectuals and the 'Liberal' group led by Prens Sabahattin. The vast majority, certainly of the Unionists, already before the 1908 revolution subscribed to a kind of Ottoman Muslim nationalism in which the dominant position of the Turks was taken for granted. There was a growing awareness of Turkishness, but for most Young Turks this was one 4

Le Bon was extremely popular and influential, not only among the Young Turks, but also among contemporary intellectuals in the Balkans and the Arab world.

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facet of a complex identity in which being an Ottoman and a Muslim played equally important parts. From the start the organizers of the 1908 revolution opened up their ranks to non-Turkish Muslims, but not (or at least not automatically) to non-Muslims (KARABEKIR, 176). Contrary to what is often supposed, Pan-Turkism was popular only among a very small circle of intellectuals in which Russian emigrants played a dominant role. Islamist or Pan-Islamist sentiments were used politically by the Unionists, but played almost no part in their ideological make-up. The Young Turk thinkers, their intellectual debates and the journals which formed the mouthpieces of the different currents have been described in detail.5 However, with the outbreak of the Balkan War, theoretical questions paled into insignificance. There was a national emergency and the most important issue now seemed to be the mobilization of all national resources. What was national, was no longer in doubt by the end of 1912: the empire had been attacked by a coalition of Christian Balkan states, the sympathies of the Ottoman Christian communities were doubtful at best and the big powers of Europe did not lift a finger to help the empire in its distress. When the Young Turks organized the war effort through countless political, social, economic and cultural organizations which all carried the title milli ('national') it was no longer in doubt what was meant by this term. It meant by and for the Ottoman Muslims. This tendency continued throughout the years of World War I (which was also officially declared a jihad and which was partly fought out as a brutal ethnic/religious conflict in Anatolia) and beyond. The proclamations of the national resistance movement in Anatolia after 1918 make it abundantly clear that the movement fought for continued independence and unity of the Ottoman Muslims. The religious character of the movement was often remarked upon at the time. Religious ceremonies accompanied every major event and it was the only period in recent Turkish history when the country knew prohibition of alcohol ( Z Ü R C H E R , 1999). After the war had been won in 1922, this ideological orientation changed quite suddenly. With the passing of the national emergency the need for mass mobilization had also passed. The debates conducted before 1912 now resumed their importance and here the republican regime made some very deliberate choices. In the debate on the degree of westernization, Mustafa Kemal and his circle identified themselves with the position of the most extreme Westernists (garbcilar) of the Young Turk era, who held that European civilization was indivisible and should be adopted in toto (HANlOGLU, 1997). There was no attempt to harmonize European civilization (medeniyet) with Turkish culture (hars), although these terms, which had been coined 5

Among the most important studies are: §erif MARDIN, Jon Türklerin siyasi fikirleri 1898-1908, Ankara: ¡§ Bankasi, 1964; §ükrü HANIOGLU, The Young Turks in opposition, Oxford: OUP, 1995; Uriel HEYD, Foundations of Turkish nationalism. The life and teachings of Ziya Gökalp, London: Luzac, 1950; Taha PARLA, The social and political thought of Ziya Gökalp 1871-1924, Leiden: Brill, 1985; A. Holly SHISSLER, Turkish identity between two empires. Ahmet Agaoglu 1869-1919, Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Chicago, 2000; Francois Georgeon, Türk milliyetgiliginin kökenleri. Yusuf Akgura (1876-1935), Ankara, 1986; §ükrü HANIOGLU, Bir siyasal dü§ünür olarak doctor Abdullah Cevdet ve dönemi, Ankara: Üfdal, 1981; Fiisun ÜSTEL, Türk Ocaklari $, Masami ARAI, Turkish nationalism in the Young Turk era, Leiden: Brill, 1992; Esther DEBUS, Sebilürre$ad: eine vergleichende Untersuchung zur islamischen Opposition der vor- und nachkemalistischen Ära, Frankfurt: Peter LANG, 1991.

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by Ziya Gokalp to differentiate between the acquired Gesellschaft and the organic Gemeinschaft (HEYD, 63 ff) remained in use. In fact, the Kemalists envisaged a cultural revolution in which not only the 'high' Islamic civilization would be exchanged for that of Europe, but also the 'low' or popular culture would be transformed. Like the Young Turk ideological writers, Mustafa Kemal insisted that Islam was a 'rational' religion and adaptable to the contemporary world, but there was no attempt to turn a 'purged' Islam into a major constituent of the republican ideology. The Jadidist ideas of Akgura and Agaoglu were rejected as much as Gokalp's proposals for a Turkified Islam and Said Nursi's ideas on Islamic moral rearmament. Instead, secularism (laiklik, derived from the French laique) became one of the main planks of the Kemalist ideology. Scientism and biological materialism (as well as social Darwinism) were characteristic of Kemalist thinking even more than they had been of that of the Unionists (witness Mustafa Kemal's famous dictum "the only real spiritual guide in life is positive science" (miispet ilim) and the passage in his 1933 anniversary speech, where he says that "the torch, which the Turkish nation holds in its hand while marching on the road towards progress and civilisation, is positive science." On the issue of national identity, a radical choice was also made. Ottomanism obviously no longer was an option, but the Muslim nationalism of the years 1912-22 was now also abandoned, as it sat awkwardly with the ideal of wholesale adoption of European civilization. Instead an immense effort at nation-building within the borders of the new republic was made, based on the idea of a 'Turkish' nation. Although Turkish nationalism was territorial and based on a shared Turkish language, culture and ideal (with nationality being open to anyone willing to adopt these), a romantic idealization of the Turkish national character, with racist elements, became more and more important in the thirties (in line with developments in Europe). In practice, the adoption of Turkish nationalism led to the forced assimilation of the 30 percent or so of the population which did not have Turkish as its mother tongue. One aspect of ideology where there was marked continuity between the Unionists and the Kemalists, was in their firm rejection of the role of classes and class struggle. Both Unionist and Kemalist policies aimed at the creation of a national bourgeoisie and rejected any kind of change in property relationships. The CUP had reacted to the wave of strikes after the constitutional revolution of 1908 with repressive legislation and its National Economy Programme after 1913 had been geared towards the creation of a class of Muslim traders and industrialists under state protection (ToPRAK, 1982). Corporatism gained a measure of popularity among the political elite both between 1913 and 1918 and in the early years of the republic. The creation of societies of traders and artisans by the CUP after it had disbanded the old guilds was an expression of the importance attached to professional organizations. This interest continued into the republic, but proposals, such as those put forward by the nationalist ideologist Gokalp, to base the political system on corporatist structures, were rejected (GEORGEON, 109). Instead, the republic adopted a rather vaguely defined notion of 'populism' (halkgilik) or national solidarity, which was partly derived from the Russian Narodniki and partly from the romantic nationalist Halka dogru (Towards the People) movement, founded in Izmir in 1916 (TOPRAK, 1977; TEKELi and §AYLAN). In practice, the republican regime supported the capitalists and left both peasants and

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workers at the mercy of the ruling coalition of officers, bureaucrats and large landowners and the 'national' bourgeoisie which gradually grew up under its protection. Socialism, trade unions and strike action: all were banned under the Kemalist republic and land redistribution was first made into a government policy in 1945. The Kemalist mentality More important perhaps, but less tangible and well-defined, than the strictly ideological legacy of the late Ottoman Empire was the mentality, or a set of attitudes, the Kemalist republicans derived from their predecessors: a state-centered view; a strong educational streak; elitism and distrust of the masses; activism and a certain impatience; a belief in progress. They emphatically embraced change and, in stark contrast to traditional Ottoman values, which had always seen age and experience as prerequisites for authority, they put their trust in youth, which they saw as a very positive characteristic (TUNAYA, 1989,214). The Young Turks had been young in a literal sense (most of them being in their late twenties at the time of the constitutional revolution) and they had felt that, being young and well-educated, they understood the world much better than older generations. This feeling was also prevalent among the founders of the republic, by now middle aged Young Turks, as well, Mustafa Kemal Atatiirk emphasized his bond with the youth of Turkey (a theme taken up in countless school books of the republic until the present day) and made rousing appeals to the Turkish youth to act as guardians of the republic, most notably at the end of his six-day speech (Nutuk) before the party congress in 1927.

Changes in political participation and in the composition of the political elites KEMAL H. KARPAT

Introduction The political history of Republic Turkey, and the last hundred and fifty years of the Ottoman state, have been marked by an inter-elite struggle that has enlarged popular political participation, partly as a matter of principle but mostly as a consequence of the elites' search for popular support. First against the absolute power of the sultan and then to implement their version of modernity until 'real' democracy permitted the voter to demand his/her own version of modernism.1 It should be noted immediately that neither the Ottoman state nor the Republic, at least at the beginning, possessed elites of birth with inherited rights and positions, or elites of wealth, with a confirmed status and accepted legitimacy, even though wealth could be accumulated in private hands. Instead, the distinguishing mark of the late Ottoman and early Republican political structures was a centralized monopoly of power by a bureaucratic elite which controlled recruitment into the political system and the economic resources necessary to reward the political elites, that is: itself. In the empire this political elite with absolute control over state authority was the sultan-bureaucracy, backed by the religious elite, belonging to the established Islam which provided it with the necessary arguments to legitimize state authority and assure popular obedience. As society became more complex and differentiated in the nineteenth century, so did the size, structure and ideology of the political elites. The combination of an incipient capitalist system, and a modern system of education, together with the growth of a service oriented bureaucracy enabled the recruits from the lower classes to move up the social ladder and eventually become part of the ruling elites. This process, in turn, produced both the reforms of 1839 and 1856, and the policy known as Ottomanism. Ottomanism attempted to create an Ottoman nation on the basis of common citizenship, that is, to replace the old personal ties that related the subjects to the sultan with a set of impersonal rights and obligations that linked the individual to the state. Consequently, an emerging concept of contemporarity which regarded the change of the political and social system as its instrument replaced the classical Ottoman idea of social immutability. Expressed first in such a modest term as islahat (reforms), the idea of change or muasirla§mak (to become contemporary), evolved eventually into inkilap - devrim (revolution) or, in one word, medeniyet (civilization) modernization. The Ottoman intellectuals invented the word medeniyet, which they coined from the Arabic madina (city), implying an orderly way of life grounded in science and supervised an elite devoted to enlightenment and progress (BAYKARA 1992, 10-12: TANOR 1995). ' For theory on elites, see MANNHEIM (1940); MILLS (1956); MOSCA (1939); KELLER (1963); and REINGARD (1996). For the Middle East, see TACHAU (1975); FREY (1965); LANDAU (1984a); and AHMAD (1993).

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Ultimately, modernism became an ideology akin to a faith and was regarded as the fruit of a social and mental discernment that was unique to those in control of power. For a while modernism was regarded to be the equivalent of everything European and often the distinguishing mark of the elite was 'Avrupa gormii§ birisV (someone who knew Europe): But paradoxically enough, practically none of the key leaders of Turkey — except for Siileyman Demirel and Turgut Ozal who had a relatively short stay in the USA — studied or spent a lengthy period of time in Europe. In effect, the modernization of Turkey implemented by taking Europe as a model was actually a nativist phenomenon carried about by an elite which used 'European' ideas to legitimize its hold on power. But modernism permeated also the thinking of traditionalists (including most contemporary Islamists) and modernists alike, even though each group interpreted the term according to its own vision of the past and the future. Ideology rather than professional expertise thus became the hallmark of the elites. In 1908 the army emerged as the chief, selfproclaimed defender of 'democracy' (constitutionalism), modernism and of nationalism, and after 1924, of secularism, both of which became intrinsic legitimizing parts of modernist ideology. As a result, in the name of secularism and of Atatiirk, the presumed creator of secularism, the military and a small intellectual group assisted by an obliging press made itself the arbiter of Turkish politics. The military did not owe its political position to a desire for authority or to a search for economic reward but to a set of unique historical and social circumstances governing elite formation and political participation in Turkey. Since the era of the Young Turks (1908-1918) the army had claimed to be the only institution with historical continuity, joining past to present, and dedicated to maintaining national independence and modernism (in Kemalist terms). The army officers regard themselves as a unique elite untainted by the self-serving of the civilian political elites, and they expect the citizens to accept and internalize the army's self-image and its modernist role, probably without much dissent. Nevertheless, because the army's three interventions in politics between 1960 and 1980 actually broadened popular participation and increased the elites' mobility, the army officers also can be viewed as a self-appointed, regulatory, impartial, superpolitical elite. In that role they regularize the competition of the civilian political elites and correct the civilians' failure to manage conflict, often without regard for ideology. For instance, after 1980 the military closed the Nationalist Action Party and arrested its leader, the late Alparslan Tiirke§, who had regarded himself as a 'civilian defender' and as a 'neutral and impartial' friend of the state. Tiirke§, a former colonel and the chief actor behind the takeover in 1960 (which was defined as the work of the entire armed forces), enjoyed limited support in the army after he became involved in party politics. Indeed, despite the military's frequent forays into politics they never assumed direct control of the government or directed the day to day civilian affairs or established working relations with politicians, although they consulted with them. Respect for hierarchy's symbolic gestures, distance from the trivial, reserve and studied dignity, including laconic pronouncements, help maintain the military' image as a super elite dedicated to and defending the state and national interest. It should be emphasized that the military's 'elite of the elites' position is related primarily to the state and basic matters of

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state and not economics, literature and similar fields. The bulk of the population and many political actors in Turkey, although privately critical of the army's invisible but ever-present political role, accept its arbitration as necessary and unavoidable.2 Today Turkey is in a very important transitional period as the 'sacred' nature of the state is questioned and demand grows for a service-oriented bureaucracy capable of coping with the needs of market economy. New civilian elites, including a business elite, are emerging while the old ones fade away or transform themselves. In these circumstances the military's role as a supreme political elite may be reviewed and revised. Nobody seems to know how to accomplish those tasks, but revision and redefinition of the old concept of kemalism and secularism will be central to them. In the next pages, we shall analyze how elite formation and the evolution of political participation combined to create today's situation in Turkey. Historical and structural foundations The classical Ottoman political elite was a bureaucratic monolith consisting of the sultan and his kuls (servants), or patrimonial bureaucracy. It did not face competition for power from any other group and to maintain the status quo, it prevented the accumulation and preservation of wealth in the hands of any one person or group, including its own members. In the Persian state the cultural elites, landlords, and tribal chiefs, using Farisi as the common language, despite their diverse ethnic origin, gave the system a 'national' coloring, but the Ottoman bureaucracy remained bound solely by 'state' considerations rather than ethnic, social or tribal ones. Merit and loyalty to the system were its chief criteria for position and reward and skills and knowledge often defined ranking in the bureaucracy while formal education was important for judicial positions, as judges had to have proven knowledge of Islamic law. Although in the eighteenth century the households of high dignitaries and provincial chiefs were used as channels of recruitment, this diversion was temporary and did not produce the widespread socio-political effect attributed to it.3 The sultan and his bureaucracy were tied to each by mutual dependency, for the Ottoman sultan did not have a high genealogy comparable to those of the Cengizids of Kazan and Crimea. Until ca. 1396 the sultan was considered the chief commander of the frontier ghazi marches, whose initial inhabitants were fighters in wartime and farmers, traders, etc. in peacetime. The double civilian-military status of the early Ottoman (Turkish) society and the lack of rigidity in the military's 2

3

Necmettin Erbakan, the leader of the defunct Refah Party, did his best as Premier in 1997 to satisfy the military's demands and flattered them in every way possible although privately he criticized them bitterly. In one instance, a spokesman for the army complained that the government had ignored the army's demand for extra founds. Erbakan profusely apologized that "nobody can leave our beloved army in momentary distress" and allocated the necessary sum within a day so but had to resign soon afterward. GOGEK ( 1 9 9 6 ) . F o r a b e t t e r p e r s p e c t i v e , s e e RUSTOW ( 1 9 7 3 ) ; ITZKOWITZ ( 1 9 6 2 ) ; TIMBERGER ( 1 9 7 8 ) .

Relevant articles on the constitutional developments in Turkey appear in Tanzimat'tan Tiirkiye Ansiklopedisi (1985).

Cumhuriyet'e

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ranks produced a lasting sense of fusion between the army and the civilians, centered around the state. Although by the fifteenth century, centralist sultans, especially Mehmed II (1451-81), became the uncontested masters of the state and everything living or existing on it, the sense of shared values rooted in the state was maintained. Mehmed II incorporated the old chiefs of the marches into the central bureaucracy and turned their land possessions into the state domain, thus securing for himself and the state popular support. At the same time, the dynasty became the repository of state power, tradition and continuity with the reigning sultan as its representative, spokesman and enforcer of its authority. The religious establishment provided the koranic legitimacy to this arrangement. This formal vesting of power in the dynasty-state institutionalized authority (a key achievement) and established a rigid hierarchy headed by the sultan, the bureaucracy and the intelligentsia — that is the askeri (military ruling elite) and supported by the servants of the state or the reaya or food producers. The sultan acted as the supreme master of the state but with the understanding that in his own way, he, too, served the state-dynasty, assisted by the bureaucracy. In turn, the bureaucracy looked upon the sultan as the source of its position, legitimacy, and reward. Absolute obedience, devotion and loyalty to the sultan as the representative of the dynasty-state — and the faith — plus professional competence and achievement, determined the rankings of the bureaucracy. The enthronement and dethronement of the sultan, although decided by the military, religious leaders, even bazaar merchants was formalized and finalized by the §eyhiilisldm. The initial broad authority of the sheikhulislamate when it was founded as a unique Ottoman institution in the fifteenth century, to judge the government decisions' conformity to the religious laws eventually were greatly limited in favor of the state in the following centuries. Modernization and ultimately the Constitution of 1876 eventually converged to focus on 'people' or the 'nation', as the source and legitimizer of authority. Consequently, the role of the §eyhulislam as 'king maker' diminished further, especially after the army used the office frequently in 1876 and 1909 to oust the incumbents and it chose new sultans, according to its political preference, rather than follow the strict conditions imposed by centuries old Islamic practices that the §eyhiilisldm was expected to enforce. Thus modernization greatly expanded the power of the center by eliminating the restrictions on authority imposed by the religious law. The central bureaucracy until well into the nineteenth century consisted solely of Muslim men, including converts who had been recruited as soldiers but trained, some in the Enderun, a Palace School, for civilian jobs. This was essentially a statist system that appeared in military garb and so obscured its important civilian aspects. The state's identification with the faith helped fusion the Muslims but kept the nonMuslims apart. The place and role of the Ottoman religious elites is both controversial and in need of critical, objective evaluation. In the early Ottoman state Islam played a seminal role as a mobilizing cultural force at the popular level and simultaneously served the state as a source of legislation, ideology and legitimacy. The state used the faith for its own purposes while always striving to appear respectful of it and as promoting and defending it. As early as the fifteenth century, however, the

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Ottoman sultans became aware of the inherent conflict between the practical rules of government and the ideal embodied in the normative code of religion, or between diinya ve ahiret (this and next world), as a popular jargon expressed it. Although the sultan eventually named the mufti of Istanbul as the adjudicator of the conflict between faith and state, the experiment soon deteriorated (REPP 1986, 6-20). The state's motives and consequences in creating the §eyhiilislamate became the subject to more heated debate during the legal reforms of the nineteenth century. My own view about this complex subject is that the fifteenth-century Ottoman sultans were seeking not so much to conform government decisions to religious law as to try to avoid — the unavoidable — conflict between the state and the religion (reason and faith) by creating an autonomous sphere of activity for each. This was a form of secularization that theoretically placed the faith above state although in practice the reverse was true. The de facto autonomy of the state and faith seems to have worked well into the reign of Selim II (1512-1520) and Suleyman the Magnificent (1520-1566). Then, the acquisition and hereditariness of the Caliphate by the sultan, the struggle with the Shiite Safavids of Persia and the Ottoman conquest of Syria, Egypt and the Hicaz in the sixteenth century turned the Ottomans into the defenders of Sunnism and the established religion. These departments confined the popular Islam of the original Ottoman state to the lower classes. Ultimately, the state enlarged its authority and harnessed the faith to its service to quell the threat to the statist order from social unrest and popular uprisings (e.g. the Celdlis). Specifically, the state turned the mufti of Istanbul into a §eyhiilisldm and used the me§ihat (§eyhulisldm,s office) as an arm of the government to certify that the acts of the government conformed to the §eriat, or religious law and to also delegitimize unwanted actions. The Muslim religious elites eventually split into at least three groups. The first, representing the established elite around the §eyhiilisldm and the judiciary and their subgroups, received salaries from the central treasury and had an established position and officially sanctioned prestige. The second group consisted of upperand midlevel ulema, usually in the provincial centers, who served as teachers in the local schools and as administrators of the vakifa (religious foundations) and often possessed some personal wealth. Relatively independent in their thinking and action, this second group of religious elites would provide in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries vital support to the rising local and regional civilian elites who drew their power from private land ownership and local trade. The third religious group consisted of the leaders of the popular religious orders who were opposed to the central ulema and, despite differences of doctrine, often made common cause with the provincial ulema of the second group against the statist religious and bureaucratic elites of the first. In the sixteenth century a political literature emerged to define the first group's position and relation to the state. It is exemplified by Kinalizade Ali's (1510-1572) Turkish-language book Ahlak-i Ala'l, written in 1564 at Damascus, where the author was a kadi or judge.4 Kinalizade stated that because mutual interdependence 4

The book was written on behalf of Ali Paja, the beylerbey of Syria, hence its title, and relies heavily on Nasraddin Tusi's (b. 1200) and Celaleddin Dawwani's (d. 1502) treatises on the conduct of

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was the chief characteristic of human beings, rulers needed to regulate this predisposition by selecting the proper advisors.5 Kinalizade recognized the primacy of the state and of the political elites but defined his own group, the ulema, as indispensable to the survival of the state, for it alone possessed the religious knowledge necessary to set the government on the proper legitimate course. Suffice it to say that Kinalizade, unlike the Shia religious establishment of Persia, appears to have placed the ulema in the service of the state in a subordinate role, paradoxically, in order to assert the faith's supremacy. His work was used as a textbook in Ottoman medreses and government circles for centuries. Reprinted as late as 1830, and popularized in the newly established schools, it is now viewed as one of the Turkish 'classics', according to the newspaper Tercuman, which printed it in 1980.6 The durability and relative stability of the Ottoman state may be attributed to the unity of the dynasty-state and the fusion between the sultan and the bureaucracy and religious fusion of the Muslim ruled and ruler based on faith. That same fusion permitted the 'state' to control the chief economic resources, set the rules of social mobility, determine the recruitment for government service and set the rules of cooperation with the ulema. Neither religious challenges to the system, including the fundamentalism of the Kadizadeler in the seventeenth century and of the Wahhabis in later centuries, nor various social and economic revolts proved effective against the Ottomans' well-knit web of state and religion and their legitimacy of authority.7 However, late in the eighteenth century the forces of capitalism created a new type of elite, the ayans, who competed with the government for the control of economic resources in the countryside and the community. The ayans The available literature indicates that the modern ayans rose to preeminence in the eighteenth century as managers of state lands and tax collectors, and they became de facto masters of their regions after the Ottoman defeats by Russia and Austria between 1786 and 1812 reduced the authority of the central government to a few

government. The book's chief originality lies in the fact that it modified the two masters' ideas according to Ottoman realities. 5

6

For the ulema types see KEDDIE (1972); for the Ottomans see MADELEINE (1983).

The book has been printed many times, and numerous editions exist in various libraries in the West. A Turkish edition, Kinalizade Ali Efendi, Ahlak, Ahlak-i Ala'i was published by the newspaper Tercuman ca. 1980 as number 69 in its series 1001 Temel Eser (1001 Basic Works) intended to awaken interest in the Turks' Ottoman and Islamic past. (I thank Mr. Baki Tezcan for providing me with a copy of his M.A. thesis on Kinalizade.) 7 The Wahhabi movement survived in Kuwait thanks to British support and gained control of the Arabian peninsula only after the downfall of the Ottoman state. It is not the purpose of this paper to discuss the failure by the fundamentalist — revivalist movements of the nineteenth century to challenge the Ottoman government. These movements, such as the muridists of the Caucasus, the Nakjbendi of §eyh Halid or the Sanusya, were partly incorporated into Ottoman Islam but not without changing its content.

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cities. In addition, the lessening of central authority over the hinterlands and the ayan's entrepreneurship stimulated the further commercialization of agriculture, increased its dependence on foreign markets, and led to expansion of private land ownership at the expense of state ownership. As the social product of these modern economic forces, the ayans of the eighteenth century sought to safeguard their newly acquired wealth and position by limiting authority of the central government and its bureaucracy. By contrast, the reforms of Selim IE (1789-1807) were intended to create a powerful central authority backed by a modern army — fashioned according to the French model and commanded by French officers — in order to curb the ayans' threat to the old political system. In this Selim EI and later Mahmud II acted entirely according to the philosophy and interests of the dynastic state and did not follow the opinion of the religious authority or the civilians. Paradoxically Selim's reforms were preserved and the road to change was widened by the intervention of the very ayans he hoped to control; the state wanted 'reforms' to strengthen itself while the ayans wanted reforms to materially and morally revive the community which they claimed to represent. Both needed the 'state' for their own power interests. After Mustafa IV had been installed by the conservative 'revolutionaries' of the old order, various ayans and their military forces in Istanbul, ousted Mustafa and brought Mahmud II to the throne. In the process they secured the Sened-i ittifak, or Act of Alliance (1808), an agreement with the ayans concluded by the sultan and signed on his behalf by the Grand Vizier, guaranteeing them title to their properties and the right to transfer those properties to their heirs. The revolt of the ayans was the first civil movement from below that forced the political elites to consider the views of this subordinate elite. The movement did not originate to consider the views of this subordinate elite. The movement did not originate in a populist or egalitarian philosophy or from a popular uprising but resulted chiefly from the effort by the ayans, supported in part by the provincial ulema, to secure imperial recognition for their position and wealth. This victory by the first Ottoman civilian elite was symbolized by the rise of Alemdar Mustafa Pa§a, the ayan of Ruschuk, to the rank of Grand Vizier or Sadrazam. It was of short duration yet indicated if a civilian group formed in the countryside could organize and mobilize the community and muster sufficient power, it could win a share of the sultanbureaucracy's power while still retaining absolute allegiance to the dynasty-state. Thus began the decoupling of the state from its traditional human monitors; it should be noted that the ayans were mid-point between the askeri-reaya or the old social arrangement. Mahmud II resorted to the well-established method of annihilating physically the 'state's enemies'. Although he executed the chief ayans and confiscated their properties, he was unable to destroy the communal network that had supported the ayans against the central authority or to reverse the economic forces that had enabled them to accumulate their lands. There had been a fundamental change in the equation of power in Ottoman society. The government now had to co-opt the ayans or their followers into the system, acknowledge the need for change and somehow bring the countryside communities, which sympathized with the ayans, under state control. At the same time, it had to prove somehow that the state still

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preserved its Islamist essence despite all those changes. Behind the unfolding political conflict between the center and the provinces there was a basic structural development, namely, the penetration of modem capitalism, the growing impact of the market forces on the production of agricultural commodities and their pricing. The ayans and their supporting networks — that is, the future new middle classes — were going to acquire permanent and secure control of the mtri (state) lands whose cultivation (and collection of taxes) they had supervised on behalf of the state for centuries. In short, they wanted to become the owners of the land over which they had de facto control as cultivators and supervisors. The sultan and the bureaucracy on the other hand, desperately in need of agricultural revenue, did not control the land physically, but had in their hands political power and the sources of legitimacy (the law, courts and the sultan) and authority. The unfolding interest-based conflict between the center and the ayans (who used culture and faith to increase their control of the community) was thwarted and channeled towards compromise by the fact that each was vitally dependent on the other; the first for economic resources, the second for security, legalization and legitimacy. The state, that is the sultan and the bureaucracy who were engaged in a power struggle of their own would attempt to win the support of the community, initially by trying to bypass the ayans only to discover that the ayans (and the new middle classes after 1850s) were culturally, socially and economically an organic part of the community. They were in fact a new elite representing both the communal Islamist, but also modernist, economically and administratively liberal views which played decisive political roles in the least decades of the Ottoman state and in the democracy of modern Turkey. Prodded by his own ministers, Mahmud II's successor Abdiilmecid (1839-61) sought to recruit the countryside notables into a Newab Meclisi (Council of Notables), established about 1845 to provide 'advice' to the sultan.8 The Council, ignored by most historians, represents the first formal attempt by the central authority to reaccept the notables into the government. It was minuscule, but it was nevertheless the first timid step toward democracy. A series of advisory councils had been established at various administrative levels throughout the existence of the Ottoman state. For example, the Kadi meclisi (Judge' council) in the sixteenth century included some ayans along with other local notables. They, however, were not regarded as ayans because of their wealth and communal influence, as in the nineteenth century, but rather for their erudition and acceptability to the government. In any case, these old bodies had limited autonomy and hardly any sense of group or class consciousness. The Council of Notables was different. One of the key subjects it discussed was a new Land Code the government wanted to implement with the notables' blessing in order to safeguard the state's title to the miri lands — the very lands the ayans

8

The council was in part a controllary to the Tanzimat Edict of 1839, which both guaranteed the subjects' rights to life and property and extended promises of 'equality' to all the sultan's subject. S e e DAVIDSON ( 1 9 6 3 ) .

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coveted.9 For the first time in its history the Ottoman government felt the need to consult elites about possible government policies. Although the government's consultation with communal representatives was in agreement with the concepts of me§veret and §ura — consultation and council-deliberation: these Islamic 'explanations' came well after the fact in order to legitimize the change. Similarly Mithat used constitutionalism as a device to bring countryside groups into the government and limit the sultan's power. In most accounts, the constitutional movement, which culminated in the convening of the Parliament in 1877, has been attributed either to the government's ruse to preempt the 'reforms' proposed by the Constantinople Conference of December 1876, or, to the dedication of a handful of Ottoman intellectuals to the western ideals of political freedom and representation. Mithat Pa§a already had achieved remarkable success in the 1860s as governor of the Tuna (Danube) province, a pilot area for modernization, that enlisted the Christian and Muslim countryside notables in the administration of their province. He sought to duplicate his experiment at a national level then, as a way of nationalist aspirations among non-Muslims by involving them in the government; this was of the Ottomanist experiment to create an homogeneous Ottoman nation. In the Parliament of 1877 members of the House of Deputies were chosen by provincial administrative councils composed mainly of countryside notables, including the offspring of the ayans and ulema. Although the deputies did not have a true popular mandate, they acted as if were indeed the 'nation's' representatives, criticizing the bureaucracy for abuse of power and maladministration while pleading loyalty to the state and the dynasty.10 The Second Parliament of 1878 turned openly critical of the sultan, and, although disbanded shortly, it managed to establish the first foundation for popular representation. At the same time, it also spelled out the permanent dilemma of Turkish democracy, namely, how to compel the bureaucracy to serve the citizens' practical needs while retaining its old status and image as the owner and personification of the state. Mithat's other purpose in adopting the Constitution and assembling the Parliament was to limit the sultan's traditional absolutism and secure the supremacy of the reformist bureaucrats concentrated in the Foreign Ministry and the army in order to reform the 'state'. The power struggle between the reformist and traditionalist wings of the bureaucracy was decided in the favor of the reformists-constitutionalists through a military coup engineered, under Mithat Papa's guidance, by Hiiseyin Avni Pa§a — the chief of the army. Supported by other leading officers, including Siileyman Hiisnii, an influential teacher in the military schools and author of a Turkish history textbook, the coup ousted the incumbent Sultan Abdiilaziz in the spring of 1876 and brought to the throne first 9

The Land Code of 1858 regulated the status of the miri, or state lands, which included the highest percentage of the existing arable lands. It, inadvertently perhaps, opened the way for the passage of state lands to private individuals. The law accepted the fact that miilk land, or individual property, and vakif lands were subject to the rules of the jeriat and consequently immune to state control. The state in the past had often confiscated such properties it was not entitled to do so. See KARPAT (1968). 10 On this Parliament and related issues, see DEVEREUX (1963); ERGIL (1976).

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Murat V and three months later Abdulhamid II (1876-1909).11 Abdulhamid suspended the Constitution and dissolved the Parliament, instituting a thirty-year period of absolutism that ended by the so-called 'Young Turks' revolution' of 1908, which was basically a military takeover by civilian groups. The temporary victory of the modernist bureaucratic elite obscured another revolution among the religious elites and the degeneration of the sheykhulislamate. The change of three sultans in the span of three or four months had been formally sanctioned by the fetvas of §eyhulislam Hasan Hayrullah Efendi. Abdulhamid later nicknamed him §errullah (God's evil) and banished him to Medina and then to jail in Taif where he died in dire poverty. The new sultan feared the me§ihat as much as he feared the constitutionalists, and the Kadiasker (kazasker), or chief judge, who had favored the ousting of Abdiilaziz as had other high ranking ulema. Consequently Abdulhamid began to court the midlevel ulema and the countryside notables as well as the popular religious orders. The sultan intended this 'populist' religious revolution to consolidate his absolutism, but it inadvertently marginalized established Islam instead, while reranking the 'state' elites and subjecting the clerics to the state's professional scrutiny. (Musa Kazim, d.1920, the §eyhulislam of the Young Turks' regime, was a constitutionalist and outspoken critic of absolutism.) The state, dissatisfied with the 'corruption' and 'incompetence' of the local imams, hatips, muezzins, etc, that is of the lower — ranking clerics serving the community, charged in 1888, the Council of State (Tanzimat Office) to issue by laws regulating the appointment and duties of these local clergymen. The Judiciary Inspectorate Council in the capital and the administrative councils in the provinces would test the clergymen's knowledge of the fikh (theology), Koran, etc. and issue to the successful ones just a §ehadetname (written testimonial of competence) and not an icazatname (license to practice) as in the past. The government subjected also each of the three formally recognized elites, the askeri (military), mtilki (administrative) and kalemi (chancery) to a new hierarchical ranking, the first two consisting of nine steps. The nine steps (the first indicates the military, the second administrative rank) were as follows: {mti§ir - vezir) (ferik - bald) (mirliva - ula-i ewel - miralay - ula-i-sani), (kaymakam - saniye - mutevazi), (binba§i and alay emini - saniye sanisi), (kolagasi - saliste) (yiizba§i - rabid), (miilazim - hamise). The kalemiye had only seven ranks. It is essential to note also that the elite ranking of 1888, did not provide the equivalent of military titles for the ilmiye or ulema (the religious establishment). Eventually in 1891, such equivalents as sadr-i Rumili, sadr-i Anadolu, sadr-i Haremeyin, etc, were issued for the ilmiye but these were hardly used.12 Thus the military not only maintained formally but actually consolidated their elite position in line with the view of Ibn Khaldun and the historian Ahmed Cevdet Pa§a (d. 1895) that in times of crises affecting the fate of '1 The complex issue of the power struggle behind the coup is analyzed in detail in KARPAT (2001). 12 The bylaws concerning the examination of the lower ranking clergy and the relevant correspondence are in Bajbakanlik Ar§ivi (BA) Yildiz, Sadaret Resmi - Maruzat (SRM), No.41/41 of February 1888. The ranks of the Askeriye, Mulkiye, and Kalemiye and the Addressing formula for each rank are in the BA, Yildiz, SRM no. 55/46 and no. 55/57 of 5 and 12 July 1891.

Changes in political participation

41

the state, one needs soldiers more than the literati. All these developments had a class dimension, which eventually produced a rift between the civilian and military elites and alienated further the notables. Unlike the old Ottoman civilian and military dignitaries who owned and used state properties only during their service tenure, the Tanzimat reformers became actual owners of huge estates. In the 1870s heirs of Mustafa Re§it Pa§a (d.1858), the architect of the reforms, still owned large tracks of valuable land in the vicinity of Istanbul. The modernist state elite possessing modern education and knowledge and developing new justification and legitimacy for its monopoly of authority, became also the potential owner of all economic resources under statism which became a principle of state in 1938. In the process, it rendered superfluous, the ulema as the 'guides' and legitimizers of state actions, the notables, and large proprietors but also alienated the military who were the key defenders of the state, but had no direct access to the state's economic resources as did the civilian bureaucracy regulating these resources. The new term efendi (master - teacher), which had a nuance of sarcasm, referred mainly to the civilian bureaucracy educated in modern schools and upper ulema but not the military. Education, the new elites, and political representation Sultan Abdulhamid's long reign (1876-1909) is remembered as a 'dark' period of regression and disintegration. Actually, Abdulhamid's rule saw the rapid growth of education and literacy, the publication of books and newspapers, the establishment of civilian associations, urbanization, and the expansion of communications, and trade. We present below some of the main quantitative growth indicators for the period from 1850 to 1913 recently compiled by Mehmet A. ALKAN (1996, 45-51): These indicators reflect a major social-political event: the rise of a modern type of middle class with a new frame of mind and intellectual habits. Divided into an urban segment concentrated in cities and another segment located in the agrarian towns that controlled the production of agricultural commodities by the villages, this new middle class was predominantly Muslim in Anatolia but less so in Rumelia. The non-Muslims, who were mostly not identified with the state, were further divided into several major ethnic groups. By contrast, the Muslims were officially regarded as one single group, although they also were divided into several ethnic and linguistic subgroups. The major division of the population into Muslim and non-Muslim categories had turned into alienation and adversity when the 'equality' brought by the Edict of 1856 gave the non-Muslims economic advantages and so added à new class dimension to existing ethno-religious differences. After the Balkan states, inhabited by large numbers of Christians, gained independence through the Berlin Treaty of 1878, the Muslim majority in the remaining Ottoman territories reached some 80 percent, and the territory along with the faith furnished a new basis for allegiance to and identification with the state. Islamism, long in the making, now became the state's de facto ideology of unity. At the same time, the material and intellectual changes reflected by the above indicators gave modernism a liberal dimension that

42

Kemal H. Karpat

seemed to set it on a collection course with old statist order. The absolutist Sultan Abdiilhamid appeared to be employing the state and its resources in order to court the support of the community and its traditionalist leaders against the bureaucrats and intellectuals of the new order while his reform inadvertently consolidated the latter's elite position. The intelligentsia, educated in modern schools, turned modernization from a drive for change and renewal into an ideology of power, imbuing it with positivism and liberalism. Modern education, based on a rational, world-oriented approach, had been introduced under Mahmud II to train a bureaucracy capable of carrying out a series of new services in education, sanitation, trade and justice.13 In this role it supplied the government with an ever-increasing number of officials recruited from the lower classes, who brought with them — despite their avowed loyalty to the state and the sultan — some of the habits and aspirations of their lower-class folk. Altough in the end most of them became accultured to the existing statist philosophy, the modern educational system not only altered the mode of elite recruitment and stratification but also provided future rulers with populist arguments to justify their own claim to power. Hiirriyet (freedom) thus became their basis for claim to state power. The difference in outlook between the new bureaucracy, including the military and its imperial counterpart was most evident among the army officers. Courses at the Harbiye (War College) and later at the Staff school consisted mainly of the positive sciences, often studied from western textbooks. The military's courses on history used Turkish as their language of instruction and as their means of both indoctrination and instruction; especially Suleyman Papa's textbooks, which adopted the idea of ethnic history and traced the Turks' origin to ancient Central Asia. The textbooks used by civilian schools still started history with the advent of Islam in 622 A.D. The long-time inspector and textbook writer for Ottoman military schools, Colmar von der Goltz (d.1916), played an important part in the ideological formation of the army officers. Unlike other Europeans, he believed in a union between the Ottoman military elites, educated in the true western sciences, and the Anatolian peasants who had preserved the high virtues of the early Turks along with their Islamist spirit. Confident such a union of the intelligentsia with the peasantry could produce a true national revival, von der Goltz imparted to the officers in training both a missionary modernist spirit and a national-ethnic but also a populist orientation.14 The military's 'populism' contrasted sharply with the civil bureaucracy's 'opportunist' populism although both in the end ignored the real people. The modern educational system marginalized the medrese. Those were the upper-level religious schools that had produced the old ulema and served in more than one way as the supporting basis of the me§ihat — the §eyhulisldm,s office. Abdiilhamid played a key role in expanding the modern school system and did 13

The history of the modern Ottoman bureaucracy is treated in full by FINDLEY (1980); FINDLEY

14

S e e VON DER GOLTZ ( 1 8 9 7 ) . S e e a l s o KARPAT ( 1 9 5 9 ) , chapters 9 - 1 2 ; HEPER ( 1 9 9 1 ) ; HEPER and EVIN

(1989). For the philosophical outlook of the new elites, see HANIOGLU (1995). (1988).

Changes in political participation

43

little to revive the medreses, He introduced after 1892 intensive religious education but only in modern schools in order to reinforce the pupils' Islamic conscience or national identity in religious dress. Before 1877-78, the government had not expanded elementary education, partly for financial reasons and partly in order not to interfere with the relative autonomy of the traditional elementary 'religious' schools. These elementary religious schools were supported financially by the community, (the medreses that trained their teachers were financed mostly by the income of the vakijs). Thus, the 'classical' educational system in the Ottoman Empire, whatever its shortcomings, had been free of government control and offered the lower classes their only major avenue for upward mobility, earning it a degree of popular acceptance and respect. After 1880, the government not only converted the religious elementary schools into modern ones but also assumed their control. The development of government-controlled and government-financed elementary and especially mid- and upper-level schools during Abdulhamid's time cannot be treated here in depth ( A L K A N 1996, 140, 152).15 Suffice it to say that these schools helped increase literacy and broadened the social basis of the recruitment for the mid- and upper-level schools that produced both the secularist and religious elites. The key schools preparing the top modernist elites were the Harbiye (War College), Miilkiye (Administrative School), and the Medical and Law Schools. The professionalization in these schools added a new dimension to modernism by producing a new version of bureaucratic elites. Thus professional competence challenged the criteria of the Tanzimat elites, represented chiefly by the officials in the Terciime Odasi and Foreign Ministry, that knowledge of European languages and ways of life rather than professional skills was sufficient to appoint one as a member of the elite. Eventually, beginning with the establishment of the Middle East Technical University in Ankara in 1957-58, and then other schools using English or other foreign languages as means of instruction, the knowledge of a foreign language became a prerequisite of professionalism rather than the chief mark of elitism. Many members of the upper- and mid-level religious elites had embraced change and modernity as means of self-renewal and progress within the bounds of Islamic society. This was accepted also by Abdiilhamid but only if it was achieved under the supervision of the state — that is, the ruler, rather than in consultation with the representatives of the community. The Nak§bendiyya,s rise as a modern religious elite in the second half of the nineteenth century produced a new interpretation of the faith, change, community and modernity. They were, in more than one way, the cultural-religious spokesman of an agrarian middle class in the 15

Between 1870 and 1880 the total number of religious elementary schools was about 18.947. Abdiilhamid opened 9, 649 new elementary schools and converted 65.138 old type schools into modern ones between 1876 and 1893. There were a total of 28.353 'Muslim' elementary schools with a total enrolment of 835.139 pupils in 1893 in the provinces, plus 234 schools with 13.894 pupils in the capital as well as 20 private schools with 5.898 students. This number does not include the community supported schools of the Greeks (4.229), Bulgarians (689), Armenians (594) Jews (269) and others, or a total of 6.433, plus about 430 'foreign' (American, French) supported schools. VAHABOGLU (1992). For the socialization and indoctrination in the schools, see DOGAN (1994).

44

Kemal H. Karpat

countryside and of an Islamist modernist elite that rose alongside the modernist (westernist) elites. All were the product of profound social, economic and intellectual changes that gave a new meaning to the faith, and culture and created new identities regardless of the fact that one was the advocate of the 'new' and the other the defender of the 'old'. The Nak§bendiyya acquired such an important role in the Ottoman state that Sultan Abdiilhamid reportedly sought the advice of Ziyaiiddin Gumu§haneli (d. 1894), the representative of the Turkish Nak§bendiyya. By 1890 that order already had established at least 65 lodges in Istanbul and the Kadiri order 57 lodges, that is, close to half the total of 305 lodges in the capital ( A L K A N 1996, 102, 105).16 The forthcoming struggle between the statist elites and the religious elites revolved around, first, whether modernization could be reconciled with the basic Islamic identity and culture of the community, and second, who (the state or the community, through is representatives) would define the scope and content of modernization. The religious elites, who played a key role in the Young Turk era and Turkey, originated mostly in the Nak§bendi order or in its subdivisions, such as the Nurcu of Said Nursi and the Suleymanci of Silistreli Siileyman, just to cite the main ones, who took the leading role in the debate. Needless to say the debate on modernity was more political than philosophical. The looming conflict between the society's overall drive towards change and adaptation to new socio-cultural conditions and the sultans' growing absolutism created an exceptionally difficult dilemma for the religious elites. Sultan Abdiilaziz (1861-1876) appeared more than willing to regard istibdat (absolutism) as the authentic Ottoman form of government especially after reading Mahmut Nedim Papa's little-known pamphlet rationalizing the virtues of absolutism that helped him gain the Grand Vizierate in 1874-75. Consequently, Abdiilaziz sought to use his title as caliph to win the loyalty of the Muslims and legitimize his absolutism as well. Abdiilaziz inadvertently also split the religious establishment into liberal and absolutist wings. Sultan Abdiilhamid took the throne in 1876 and after the defeat in the Russian war of 1877-78 he tried to counter the danger of the Empire's disintegration by uniting all the Ottoman Muslims through a strong centralized government, using Islamism under caliphal aegis as the ideology of unity and politization of Islam. Since the war had helped unleash a series of pent-up popular demands for better government and material progress the sultan tried to quieten those demands, too, by introducing a wide range of reforms without a development-oriented philosophy. Rather, he sought to honor the values and traditions of the old order and uphold the primacy of Islam. Asserting that Islam was not against science and material progress, the sultan praised the achievements of the West and condemned dogmatism and bigotry and claimed that the Islamic societies were able to regalvanize themselves by adapting to the new order without undermining their Islamic culture and values. Abdiilhamid's desire to imbue the intelligentsia with both the Islamic spirit of the people and the creative, innovative spirit of the West was as much a part of his interest in education as were his aims of controlling the 16

On Nakfbendiyya see GABORIAU et al. (1992), p. 212.

Changes in political participation

45

community and enlarging the recruitment base of the bureaucracy in order to popularize it. The modernist and religious elites responded to the sultan's absolutism according to their respective ideological stands. Starting from a liberal political position, modernists regarded absolutism as the source of regress and stagnation. When they condemned the sultan for using the faith and the caliphate to legitimize his absolutism they also made freedom (hiirriyet) their Utopian unifying mythideology clearly expressed in an often cited verse "o freedom, the great charmer we have all fallen in love with you." The religious elites, on the other hand, looked upon the dynasty and the sultan-caliph as vehicles of historical and cultural continuity. Consequently some of them acquiesced in absolutism as a temporary means of assuring the survival of the state, while others opposed it and asked for restoration of the Constitution of 1876. Politically, the modernists seem to have accepted some kind of direct or indirect popular participation in government, while the religious elites apparently favored a sort of communal participation under their own guidance and leadership as the spokesman of a modern type of icma (opinion of the community). Although some state dignitaries were among those who rejected outright the notions of 'people' and 'nation' as devices invented by the modernists in order to capture power, the idea of political participation struck roots in the discourse on modernity and progress that both sides designed on their own ideological terms. It was moved to a new level in 1908 by the Young Turks ascendancy to power. The Young Turks The elite that took power with the Young Turks' 'revolution' of 1908 was not only modernist but also an aspiring nationalist, bureaucratic-intellectual elite. Despite some variation in background a considerable number of them hailed from the provincial towns and cities and had been trained in modern schools. Freedom and constitutionalism had been ideological vehicles to government power.17 Among the elite that arose in 1908 were many offspring of the old ayans now called e§raf or notables. Often the ayans had led the drive to extend modern and professional education into the countryside, mainly for the sake of their own children. These notables also had placed considerable pressure on the sultan to restore the Constitution of 1876 (as he finally did on 24 July 1908), but they did not want to oust the sultan or alter the cultural system of Islam. They only desired a modern, professional, predictable government service and some sort of representation as well as economic progress within a traditional Islamic culture. Although the 'revolution' of 1908 was the work of the military and made military 17

A recent work, which contains valuable data, describes the unrest in the Anatolian and Rumilian towns from 1906 to 1908 as somehow conducted by members of the secret Union and Progress Societies. A few agitators were indeed to the Unionists, but the bulk of the protesters consisted of local merchants, landlords, and craftsmen, who did not seek a change of regime, but protested the introduction of new taxes, especially on livestock KANSU (1997) and my review in Middle East Journal

( 1 9 9 8 ) . S e e a l s o ZÜRCHER ( 1 9 9 3 ) , ZÜRCHER ( 1 9 8 4 ) , AHMAD ( 1 9 6 9 ) .

46

Kemal H. Karpat

men masters of the new regime, their take over was backed by the countryside elites. Over time, the revolution of 1908 shifted its emphasis from its original 'democratic' and 'populist' goals, if it ever had such aims, to a variety of ideologically determined and futuristic political ideals. The source of these ideals and the true philosophical character of the Young Turks' 'revolution' can be best understood by studying the textbooks used by and the socialization that took place in the mid- and upper-level schools which produced the Committee of Union and Progress, the Young Turks' formal organization. Above all, these schools had promoted the ideas of vatan (fatherland), millet (nation), freedom and sacrifice. Forming the culture of the new elites, those same ideas upheld more the supremacy of the state rather than the society's or the individual's need for material and intellectual progress. Nonetheless, the CUP formally made the 'people' both the source and legitimacy for its power but disregarded the same people's will, traditions, and aspirations as incompatible with its own concept of 'progress'. Because the new elite's main goal was the survival of the state, it preserved the Ottomanism and Islamism of the Hamidian era and eventually imbued their spirit into the essence of Turkish nationalism. At the same time, because of the formal acceptance of the will of the people, that is, the consent of the ruled, as a condition for holding power, the CUP and later the republican government held periodic elections which reaffirmed the binding power of the popular mandate, however illusory that may be. After the constitution was restored on 24 July 1908, the CUP held its first protracted indirect elections beginning in the fall. By then the Provisional Electoral Law of 1876 (used to elect the first Ottoman Parliament) had been revised to eliminate the quotas for Muslims and non-Muslims.18 The law was retained, with some amendments, until 1950, when the government was forced to take the first step towards a true representative democracy, introducing direct selections. The original law defined sanjacks — later vilayets, as electoral districts — with one representative for 50.000 people (KAYALI 1995, 265-286; 1997). Voters consisted only of taxpaying males above the age of 25, and a second tier of handpicked candidates, one for every 500 voters, cast the final vote. The CUP's initial view that deputy candidates should originate in the provinces they represented was abandoned in 1916, as it handicapped the central government's effort to nominate its supporters, usually bureaucrats and intellectuals. Actually, that change of view as well as a new provision exempting the second-tier voters from tax qualifications resulted from the transparent efforts of the central leadership of the CUP to break the power of the notables, many of whom were propertied and demanded that their own districts be fully represented by notables of the region.19 18

The most extensive recent treatment of the elections of 1908 is in KANSU (1997), pp. 187-92, 193241. 19 My view is that the new middle classes in the countryside had a traditionalist and Islamist outlook but, economically speaking, were pragmatic, practical and appreciative of the role of science and technology. However, they failed to produce their own intellectual stratum capable of competing with the statists. The intellectuals who originated in the new middle classes could acquire recognition and status only if they joined the dominant statist intelligentsia, within which they remained a

Changes in political participation

47

In 1908 the CUP, realizing that it was unknown in the countryside, used the election campaign to portray itself as a patriotic organization and inform the public that its 'national' program and goals superseded local and regional considerations. From the start, the CUP was opposed by monarchists, traditionalists, non-Muslims, and many countryside notables. However, Prince Sabahaddin's Association for Decentralization and Private Initiative which became an opposition party in September 1908, failed to attract all these anti-CUP groups because of internal strife and especially its inability to explain that decentralization did not threaten national unity. Still, the indirect elections of 1 9 0 8 - 9 , although protracted over two months and suffering from other shortcomings, produced the first 'popular' representation in the form of 2 8 1 deputies (KANSU 1 9 9 7 , 2 3 8 - 2 3 9 ) . 2 0 The election results showed an electorate divided into three groups. The 'modernists', who were committed unionists, held 54 seats or roughly 20 percent; the 'independents' held 147 seats that included moderate modernists of all shades, liberal and conservative constitutionalists, advocates of economic development, moderate defenders of decentralization and even socialists. The conservative traditionalists, monarchists and representatives of the non-Muslims (mainly Greek) and Muslim(Albanian and Arab) minorities held 74 seats. Ethnic Turks formed a majority of 153 deputies, of whom only 43 were committed unionists, most of the Jews and Armenians supported the CUP (KANSU 1 9 9 7 , 2 4 4 - 3 0 1 ) . The two extremes in the House of Deputies, that is, the unionists and the monarchists, held altogether some 128 seats, while the 'independents', and the middle-of-the-road group formed a solid majority of 153 deputies. Actually, many Arabs and non-Muslims in the monarchist group shared the 'independent' group's views, but supported the monarchists' stand in reaction to the CUP's centralization policies. Indeed, 220 to 230 deputies seem to have represented a variety of middleof-the-road stands. The unionist group included the nationalists, but also a mixture of statist, liberal monarchists, and Islamists. The monarchist wing, encompassing die-hard traditional Islamists, imperial monarchists, and predominantly Muslim anti-modernists contained altogether probably not more than 3 0 - 4 0 people. By the end of 1908 the old elites, meaning the imperial bureaucracy headed by the sultan and the old religious establishment had become a powerless minority out of power. The government was in the hands of another minority of about 6 0 - 7 0 modernist-statist-nationalists who had espoused a modernism with strong positivist and anti-colonial features. Eventually the nationalism of this controlling elite nurtured by statist traditional culture acquired an ethnic Turkish dimension. Their modernism notwithstanding a variety of Islamic values and a traditional outlook shaped their actual behavior and made them acceptable to and compatible with the culture of society they ruled. Even Atatiirk, despite his secularism, nationalism and modernism, in reality shared extensively the basic popular culture and values of the

20

conservative minority. The lack of an alternate state model was the ultimate cause that compelled the conservative and liberal intellectuals to rally around the old Ottoman — later republican — state, which had preserved much of its old absolutist essence despite the change of regimes. For additional information on elections, the impact of regionalism and the role of the Arabs in CUP's p o l i t i c s , s e e KAYALI ( 1 9 9 7 ) , p p . 6 4 - 8 2 .

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Kemal H. Karpat

society he sought to modernize. He was at once an Ottoman Pa§a and a secular Muslim who sought to create a Turkish nation out of the Ottoman mold and bring it into the modern era. The midlevel religious elites suffered most from the CUP's policies. Most of this once powerful countryside elite lost prestige and economic power, and melted into or made a common cause with the lay opponents of the CUP, while a small group moved to the extreme as represented by the newspaper Volkan. At the same time there rose at the center a small, highly educated minority that produced a modernist, traditionalist and universalist version of Islamic-communal nationalism, or iimmetgi milliyetgilik as a represented by the review Sebilii 'l-re§at, and opposed the ethnic nationalism of Turk Yurdu and the positivism of Ictihat. The CUP, in turn, launched its own brand of modernist-nationalist Turkist Islam, as defended by Ziya Gokalp's islam Mecmuasi. The majority of countryside notables, midlevel religious leaders and the intellectual groups espousing their views, sided with any of the Islamists but could unite easily and use the local community to effectively oppose the CUP when necessary. Actually, the basic ideology of this larger group was an amalgam of economic liberalism, modernism, semi-religious ethnic nationalism, and anti-positivism set within the framework of a moderate cultural Islamism. Throughout the Young Turks era politicians constantly changed parties. Sometimes they switched on principle, but most often because the lack of common political goals made them susceptible to partisanship, ethnic politics, and the bribery and abuse of power by the CUP. The government went as far as to dissolve the House of Deputies after the opposition party, Hurriyet ve ¡'tilaf (Freedom and Entente), won the 1911 by election in Istanbul. The Unionists then rigged the elections of 1 9 1 2 , and increased their representation from 2 3 . 5 4 to 3 5 . 5 percent. The election results in 1914 were similar to those in 1908 as the CUP, pressed by the war conditions, sought to accommodate the local and ethnic interests as well as the 'independents', including the traditionalists and the ottomanist liberal constitutionalist modernists. Thus the 1914 elections allowed the CUP to 'perpetuate the myths of a representative assembly and of a popular sovereignty embodied in it" ( K A Y A L I 1 9 9 7 , 1 7 4 - 7 6 ) . Nonetheless, inadvertently the bureaucratic elites maintained the very idea with which they had wrested power from the sultan: that the people were the source of government authority. The need to accommodate a great variety of constituencies forced the CUP to widen the channels of mobility and give broader representation to the elites of the minorities whose support it needed. For instance, after the loss of the Balkan in 1 9 1 2 - 1 9 1 3 , the CUP gave the Arabs greater representation in government ( R O D E D 1 9 8 5 , 6 3 - 9 0 ) . At the same time, the CUP further distanced the state from the dynasty and the sultanate to make it theoretically the patrimony of the 'people', with whom the statist-nationalist elites identified. The CUP relegated the sultan to insignificance and made itself the personification of the state and the 'people' or nation. The political eclipse of the sultanate deprived the religious elites, of a direct link to the state, and they responded by claiming that the lack of truly ruling Muslim monarch made them the rightful spokesman of the community and the

Changes in political participation

49

nation. Despite sharing many values, the religious and statist elites now debated whether the 'nation' was a politicized and enlarged community or a secular political body, identified with one ethnic group, and how it should be represented. Having gradually concentrated control of state power and economic resources in its own hands, after 1914 the CUP sought to create an urban national Turkish bourgeoisie. This bourgeoisie, according to Yusuf Akfura, could then serve as the nationalist, modernist base of support for the national Turkish state and would balance the power of the countryside groups. Actually after the CUP took active measures to become a real political party in 1913, it sought to establish a network of local branches by courting the support of the very notables it feared. Aided by the enormous patriotic fervor created by World War /, the CUP further consolidated its hold on the population especially in provincial towns and cities. It developed a strongly committed core of civilians, military men, intellectuals and nationalist notables and eventually used the anti-imperialistic nationalism that the allied occupation of Anatolia and Istanbul engendered among ethnic Turks to become a true political force.21 The opposition was strong in the capital and a few Arab areas with special problems of their own. The elite theorists The era of the Young Turks produced Ziya Gokalp's and Yusuf A k k r a ' s distinctive theories on elites, which had a profound impact on future generations of Turks. The short piece by Gokalp (d. 1924) Halk ve Guzideler (People and elites) adapted Gustave Le Bon's ideas to Turkish circumstances. Gokalp claimed that a nation's men of ideas formed a special group distinguished by both their education and their commitment to serve the nation. True elites, according Gokalp, were born only in democracies that permitted people from all political and social walks of life and from every corner of the country to acquire education and rise to leadership on the basis of their abilities — and their dedication to the nation.22 Populism and elitism were thus combined. The elites had the twofold capacity to popularize ideas and articulate collectively shared sentiments, such as ethnic identity, patriotism, and the yearning for civilization. "Thus the elites are those people who raise to the conscious level ideas lying in the subconscious and dedicate themselves to their nation as representatives of an idea,"23 In Gokalp's view the elites were obliged to take the 21

The intellectual and psychological transformation that occurred in the Ottoman state during the war years 1914-18 are of the utmost importance in understanding the CUP's ability to turn itself into a very effective apparatus of mass mobilization and ideological indoctrination. The CUP's acquired populist and national Turkish features that survived the Ottoman defeat and disintegration. It actually was strengthened by the allied and Greek occupation of western and southern Anatolia and Istanbul. The issue deserves an in-depth treatment. S e e ZÜRCHER (1984) and SADIG (1997).

22

GÖKALP ( 1 9 8 5 ) ,

Esaslari

pp.

It appeared as Halka Dogru in GOKALP'S definitive work Türkgiiliigün although the discussion of elites appeared in some of his earlier writings. See

174-81.

(1923,45-50),

PARLA ( 1 9 8 5 ) , p p . 7 0 - 7 4 . 23

GÖKALP (1985), p. 177. According to Beysanoglu, Gökalp first expressed the idea of elites in a talk at Istanbul University given on 2 7 February 1 9 1 8 . The editor used Kazim N . D U R U ' S Ziya Gökalp

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Kemal H. Karpat

sciences, technology or civilization of the century to the lower classes and, in return, to absorb the people's pure Turkish culture since they lacked the spirit of the folk culture that expressed the Turks' unique national, artistic, and spiritual characteristics. Gokalp was a dedicated modernist who regarded Western civilization as the model for the blueprint Turks' national culture which would replace the 'cosmopolitan' culture of the old Ottoman state elites and the universalism of the Islamists. Although condemning the Ottoman havas (the old elites), he did not regard democracy as the 'supremacy' of the avam, or the lower classes but as the patrimony of the elites, who spoke for the 'people' for the 'good of the people', spite of people as a diehard elitist Avni Dogan put it in 1960s. Gôkalp's theory of the elites was complemented by his deep belief in the transforming and galvanizing role of the kahraman or 'superman'. His candidates for this role were first Talât Paça, the leader of CUP, then Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk). In sum, Gokalp provided an ideological justification for an existing reality, that is, control of the state by a new modernist, nationalist elite supposedly without class motives. But Gokalp was not a dedicated positivist, despite his resort to the philosophy especially in matters of political action. He held Islam in respect as a source of ethics and culture, so the Republican regime often ignored him. Yusuf Akçura (1876-1935), a Kazan-born, French-educated intellectual, was both a friend and a condescending rival of Gokalp. Akçura, unlike Gokalp, viewed the Ottoman situation with the eyes of an outsider rather an intimate participant. In fact, despite his current preeminent position in the pantheon of Turkish nationalism, Akçura lacked a basic understanding of Ottoman society; he knew it only trough his colleagues in the military school and the émigré circles from Russia he read in France. Akçura advocated the creation of a strong national economy based on a national bourgeoisie. In that economy Muslim-Turkish industrialists and commercial groups would supersede the old non-Muslim commercial bourgeoisie and develop the peasantry. He believed that European capital would be necessary to develop such a native (Turkish-Muslim) bourgeoisie, to replace the old, the Ottoman society of bureaucrats, peasants and greedy notables that had sapped the national vitality.24 Akçura was only partially correct to say that Ottoman society lacked a Turkish middle class. Although the Muslims did not posses an industrial and commercial bourgeoisie, they had a sizeable agrarian middle class making up about 10 to 15 percent of the population of the rural towns and cities. Akçura also ignored the fundamental fact that since the 1860s Ottoman society had undergone a slow but steady economic, social, demographic, ethno-national, and political transformation which was not verify visible in Istanbul but had changed the structure of the old Ottoman society and its ways of thinking especially in the countryside.25

24

(1975) and private notes by Enver B. SAPOLYO, who has written a book on Gokalp, to compile this piece on the elites. Yusuf AKÇURA'S economic writings were assembled in one book Siyaset ve Iktisat (1924), which included the piece on the national bourgeoisie. It was translated into French by GEORGEON (1980), pp. 1 2 8 - 3 1 . S e e a l s o TOPRAK ( 1 9 8 2 ) .

25

Akçura viewed the Ottoman countryside notables as an ignorant, greedy group deprived of 'national' ideas although he was full of admiration for the Tatar notables of Kazan whom he considered the

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51

Proceeding according to its own patterns of change, value transmission and identity preservation, that transformation had produced a new society which the Young Turks and intellectuals viewed with European glasses, oblivious to its unique islamo-modernistic features. Alongside the elite theories of Gôkalp and Akçura there developed between 1908 and 1918 a stream of other ideas defending democracy, Islam and modernism. Because this other literature nurtured the emerging political popular culture as well as popular participation in the War of Liberation and the First National Assembly of 1920-22, important questions arose concerning the Turkish state. The state that eventually became a republic emerged after the disintegration of the Ottoman state in 1918. But was there a continuity between the Ottoman and Turkish states? And who were the true founders and rightful guardians (or masters) of the new state? Republican representation, the War of Liberation and the One Party The House of Deputies edited in 1919 and the Grand National Assembly of 1920 probably were the most democratically elected and ideologically representative of all the Ottoman and Republican parliaments until 1950. Conducted according to the order of the sultan's government in Istanbul, the elections took place in an atmosphere of reaction, despair and pessimism. Defeat in the war in 1918 had been followed by the territorial disintegration of the state, the allied occupation of Istanbul, the French march on southeast Anatolia, the Greek invasion of western Anatolia and the Sèvres Treaty that would have reduced Turkey to a small area in the arid mountains of north central Anatolia. A response to these events had materialized in a series of local associations for self-defense — Miidafaa-i Hukuk Cemiyetleri (MHC) — mostly former CUP branches and led to a variety of local and regional conventions aimed at saving the fatherland. The Convention at Erzurum (23 July to 7 August 1919) was initiated by the Vilâyât-i Çarkiye Miidafaa-i Hukuk-u Milliye of Istanbul, and especially its Trabzon counterpart, many of whose members had supported Prince Sabahaddin and later the îtilâf party. Faik Ahmet Barutçu, who played a significant role in this enterprise was active in the democratic politics after 1946. This historic convention, presided over by Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk), put forth the Misak-i Milli (.National Pact) which became in some amended form the Constitutive Act of the Republic. Mustafa Kemal, along with close military associates, also planned the next convention in Sivas on 11 September 1919, in order to centralize the Defense Associations that afterwards played a key role in the movement of national resistance, that culminated in the foundation of the Republic Turkey. That resistance movement had been started by local notables, ulema, teachers, and demobilized military officers, many of whom were members, if not heads, of the local Union and Progress branches.26 Consequently the new middle classes in the 26

product of the industrial revolution. The relevant literature on popular participation in the War of Liberation is T A N Ô R (1992). The title of the book with its implication that these local conventions sought local autonomy is misleading,

52

Kemal H. Karpat

countryside were instrumental in providing broad popular and economic support to the movement that accepted Mustafa Kemal as its leader. The elections of 1919-1920, held in the year following the Sivas convention, were controlled by the nationalists in Thrace, Anatolia and even occupied Istanbul, and the Parliament they produced guided the War of Liberation. Convening in Istanbul, the elected deputies defied the British plan to divide Anatolia and voted to accept the Misak-i Milli, which delimited the frontiers of Turkey.27 The sultan, under British order, closed the House of Deputies, but most of the deputies escaped to Ankara and, together with newly elected deputies, formed the First Grand National Assembly. This first truly democratic and representative popular assembly not only opposed foreign occupation but also embraced democracy, populism and development. All of the latter were encompassed in the world halkgilik, defined as a system representing every opinion and interest, and the government program was aptly named Halkgilik Programi {Program of Populism) (ARIBURNU 1957, 19-26). This was the first truly democratic manifestation. In addition to halkgilik, another theme of the assembly was nationalism. It was understood to be first, the anti-imperialist struggle against the forces occupying the national territory and second, the cultural system and identity derived from the common historical experience, values and culture of the people living on the territory of Turkey. The final theme was economic development for the benefit of the citizen rather than be state. The First Grand National Assembly adopted the Law on Fundamental Organization which is usually referred to as the Constitution of 1921, even though the old Ottoman constitution was still standing. It declared in its initial article that 'the nation is the supreme beholder of sovereignty' (literally, sovereignty belongs unconditionally to the nation). The constitution further provided assembly members would be elected every two years by each province (the electoral district) and the assembly would meet at the beginning of November without any special invitation. Despite growing conflicts among modernist-nationalists, traditionalist nationalists, liberal Islamists and monarchists, the same assembly also decided to abolish the sultanate in 1922.28 The victorious end of the war against the Greeks and the promise of international recognition — which materialized in the Lausanne Peace Treaty —

27

except for those meetings held outside the Turkish national borders. I have accumulated a considerable number of memoirs of the participants in these conventions which give a rather good idea about their true character. The short text of the Decision Concerning the Organization of the Grand National Assembly of Turkey of 23 April 1920 reads as follows: "It is decided of members [deputies] elected under the aegis of national government and the members of the Istanbul Assembly of Deputies who joined them" The basic acts and decisions of the First National Assembly are found in a little known, but e x c e l l e n t , p u b l i c a t i o n : ARIBURNU ( 1 9 5 7 ) , p p . 3 1 0 - 1 2 .

28

KARPAT (1996), pp. 50-56. The Assembly's decision no. 307 of 30 October 1922 declared that the Ottoman Empire had perished, that the government of the Grand National Assembly has emerged, that the "New government of Turkey replaced the Ottoman Empire", that the nation was the master of its sovereignty, and that the sultanate in Istanbul was no longer in existence. Decision no. 308 of 2 November 1929 reaffirmed the abolition of the sultanate in a more polemical and accusing manner (ARIBURNU 1 9 5 7 , 3 1 1 ) .

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allowed the modernist-positivists or the 'first group' in the assembly to dominate the government and ultimately to push out the second group, consisting of the democrats, democratic-minded traditionalists and Islamists. Headed by Mustafa Kemal, the first group induced the assembly, whose two-year term had been prolonged, to dissolve itself on 1 April 1923. One week later Mustafa Kemal announced that the defense associations would become a political party, the Halik Firkasi, or People's Party (RPP after; Republican was added later). A new constitution adopted in 1924 stated that one deputy would represent 20.000 people instead of the previous 50.000. Those hand-picked deputies appeared ready to support their leaders' cultural revolution rather than pursue the socio-economic program for development and democracy formulated by the first assembly. Over time the government neutralized the social democrats, traditionalists, Islamic and modernist democrats and conservative Islamists, all of whom had been the main supporters of the national resistance movement and the chief actors in the short-lived populist participatory democracy of 1920-23. From the proclamation of the Republic and election of Mustafa Kemal as President in October 1923 to the issuance in 1925 of the Takrir-i Siikun Kanunu (Law on Stability), establishing the ground for one-party rule, efforts to preserve democracy continued. For instance, the Progressive Party was founded in 1924-25 by several of Mustafa Kemal's associates who had played major roles in the War of Liberation, including Rauf Orbay and Kazim Karabekir, but it was closed down. Meanwhile, in the countryside, mid-level cadres of the RPP acquired wealth and control of the lucrative state monopolies and the traditionalists, conservatives, landed and merchant groups were ignored, even though they had controlled the electorate during the time of the Young Turks and taken an active part in the War of Liberation. The leaders of the RPP were an elite that now turned into a real ruling class, a trend evident among modernists since the 1850s. In 1930 the Liberal Party of Fethi Okyar proved that the old, community-oriented country elites still enjoyed overwhelming popular support, but the bureaucratic wing of the RPP represented by ismet Inonii persuaded Mustafa Kemal that the opposition was motivated by obscurantist, reactionary Islamist motives and had the Liberal Party closed.29 Subsequently, following the decisions of the party convention of 1931, the RPP embarked on a policy of radical modernization based on rigid control of the economy, or economic statists, as well as on ethnic nationalism and secularism impregnated with a strong dose of positivism. Together with other ideological accessories these six principles known collectively as kemalism, were superimposed upon a populist traditionalist base.30 29

S e e KARPAT ( 1 9 5 9 ) , c h a p t e r 2 , W E K E R ( 1 9 7 6 ) a n d OKYAR ( 1 9 9 7 ) .

30

Many factors played a role in developing the populist, egalitarian aspects of Turkish society at the grassroots level: The lack of both an aristocracy and a landed gentry dominating the government and all wealth; the equalizing role of the bureaucracy, which did not permit any challenge to its authority; the enormous influence among the lower classes of the sufi orders, whose mastery became pervasive after the Republics 'secularism' further undermined the power of the religious establishments; as well as the acceptance of social mobility as a fact of life. Because elitism simultaneously prevailed at the top, the picture resembled its Ottoman counterpart.

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Kemal H. Karpat

The period of rigid bureaucratic rule did provide the Turkish populace with some training in civic activities and socialization, in the depersonalization of authority and the rule of law, despite the personality cults of Atatiirk and, for a while, inonii. Although costly and cumbersome, the industrialization program also created a class of workers who made a qualitative contribution to the Turkish political system. Similarly, although the educational system failed to generalize literacy in the countryside it improved qualitatively the middle- and upper-level education and produced a fairly sizeable class of professionals and intellectuals not dependent on the government for income. As a result, for the first time a new professional elite capable of challenging the statist political elites came into existence and waited for its turn to bid for power. The rise of a truly sizeable professional elite began in the mid 1950s. The return to democracy A democratic parliamentary system, featuring a direct system of elections and general suffrage, was established in 1945/6 by pressure from internal and international forces. The growth and differentiation of the professional and business elites had spawned subgroups, often opposed in philosophy and attitude to their parent group, that did not disparage the communal culture and old-group loyalties. Even among the industrial workers personal and family considerations took precedence over class alignments, so only a small group of workers joined the ideologically-oriented radical organizations, the TIP (Labor Party of Turkey), and later in 1961 DISK or Confederation of Revolutionary Workers Trade Unions which had a fairly active membership. The rest of the society appeared to be kept together by a sense of belonging to a community, with national, democratic, 'secular' and modern dimensions as well as a certain egalitarian, pluralist and populist spirit, a belief in human dignity and pride in 'national' history, all embodied in the term 'democracy'. Throughout this study we have made it clear that popular political representation in Turkey did not derive from lofty ideals and philosophical considerations but from the harsh struggle of the elites for government power and international circumstances. Once again, the restoration of democracy in Turkey in 1945/6 was conditioned by Turkey's alliance with the West against the USSR and its joining NATO in 1952, which compelled the RPP leaders to conform to the 'standards of the Western democracy'. The rebellion against the one-party regime started within the very ranks of the RPP. The agrarian groups, which had been co-opted into the party, rallied against the bureaucrats and intellectuals representing the statist groups controlling the central bodies. The chief cause of the split was the Land Law of 1945, introduced by the radical statist-nationalists some of whom had sympathized with Germany. Under the pretext of 'social justice' that is, distributing land to 'landless peasants', they sought to nationalize the land properties above 50 doniims or 5 hectares and thus destroy the cash-crop producing small and medium landholdings, the backbone of Turkish agrarian middle class. Even if land distribution had been fully

Changes in political participation

55

carried out some 60 percent of peasants would till have remained landless or insufficiently landed. Turkey's agricultural problems were technical and financial rather than social (KARPAT 1967; KARPAT 1957, 89-119). The four leading dissidents — former Premier Celál Bayar, the landowner Adnan Menderes, highranking bureaucrat Refik Koraltan, and historian Fuad Kóprülü — emerged as the advocates of democratic freedoms and formed the Democratic Party (DP) in February 1946. Although the new party won the elections held the same year, the government rigged the results everywhere but in Istanbul where the opposition retained the control of the ballot boxes and managed to send its party leaders to the Parliament. The most significant period in the history of democracy and political participation in Turkey was the struggle of the DP from 1946 to 1950 to assure the safety of the opposition parties and the sanctity of the ballot. The result was the 12 July 1947 Declaration of inónü, which guaranteed the existence of the opposition political parties and led to the resignation of Premier Recep Peker, a former military man and the leader of the statist-nationalist bureaucracy closely identified with the party. Later, the appointment of §emseddin Günaltay and Hasan Saka as Premiers, culminated in a new Election Law, secure elections supervised by the judiciary, and the liberalization of religious education. With the ratio of popular participation at 89.3 percent, the elections of 14 May 1950 brought the Democratic Party to power in a socio-political revolution still underway. The DP garnered 4.242.381 votes against 3.165.096 for the RPP and about 500.000 votes for the Millet Party and the independents. The DP won the elections because it made freedom appear to be the panacea for all problems, and the RPP lost the elections primarily because it was regarded as the instrument of the ruling statist elites and the one-party system; its sizeable vote in the conservative East (Anatolia) was due to the support of the tribal leaders, notables, who had been co-opted in to the system showing that leadership rather than ideology decided the election. The party has never shed the statist image and has never won a real majority in any election since, as the population seems to maintain grudge against it. Today, the party has been reestablished by a maverick but has little weight; in the elections of 1999 it failed to get 10 percent of the popular vote and was not represented in the Parliament. The government of Adnan Menderes won the election of 1954 with a 56.6 percent majority and the election of 1957 with a plurality of 47.3 percent, but was ousted from power by the military on 27 May 1960. The reasons for its ouster included 'violating the constitution' and endangering the existence of secularism and democracy. The main charge, never publicly stated, was its having 'insulted' the army by causing inflation, which undermined the military's standard of living and status and enhanced the prestige and influence of the moneyed interests. The old statist elites, that is, the military and RPP regained control of the government, but the new liberal constitution of 1961 and proportional representation broadened the spectrum of the elites and opened the road for ideological representation in the parliament. And since then the same proportional representation became the chief cause of political fragmentation and continuous coalition governments too weak to engage in meaningful governance.

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Kemal H. Karpat

The elections held in 1961, despite pressures and inducements, were won not by the RPP but by the Justice Party (39.8 percent) and the New Turkey Party (13.7 percent) both successors to the DP; the RPP mustered only 36.7 percent of the popular vote. The elections of 1965 gave the Justice Party a clear majority of 52.9 percent, and the basic pattern did not change until 1977. Meanwhile, a new statistsocialist group had gathered around the review Yon (direction) and tried to place the State Economic Planning Organization, their chosen vehicle for power, above Parliament. The new state-socialist elites were defeated by a wide coalition of economic, religious and liberal intellectual elites. Their attempt failed, but highlighted the importance of economic development and social justice; henceforth the Economic Planning Organization acted as economic advisor to the government. The military intervention of 1980 and the new political elites The military takeover and the ensuing constitution of 1982, and changes in the electoral system were caused by the political and ideological 'logjam' formed in 1961-1980. As a result, there was a realignment of the new elites formed between 1960 and 1980, including rightists, leftist, religious groups, and the new leadership cadres produced by migration and the disintegration of the tribal order, especially among Kurds. The RPP's relative success in 1977 was due to significant change in its leadership and ideology. Beginning in 1965, the party shifted to the 'left of center' in order to attract the immigrants in the city and downgraded secularism as well as positivism. Ultimately, the party abandoned the six arrows — the principles of Kemalism — as its emblem but reinstated them after it reemerged in the early 1990s (KARPAT 1970). A seemingly personal struggle for power within the RPP ended in 1971 with the victory of Biilent Ecevit, Ismet inônii's hand-picked protégé and proxy, over his mentor. This crucial development eventually ended the informal, but ever-present alliance between the RPP and the army, depriving the latter of an organized political-social foundation. The RPP's effort to endear itself to the populace failed, largely because the party's 'petty bourgeois' image displayed to the public conflicted with its 'socialist' image designed to prevent the flight of its militant, ideologically oriented members to the Turkish Labor Party (TÎP). In fact, a variety of Marxist, Leninist, and Maoist political parties and radical leftist associations proliferated after 1961, many with considerable support from abroad. At the same time, a huge number of new ideological books and reviews not only helped enlarge the intellectual horizon of Turkey with new modes of thought and social analysis but also facilitated the rise and legitimacy of the leftist elites. The political secularist right, in turn, congregated around the Nationalist Action Party whose 3 percent vote throughout the period 1970-1973 had been just about equal to that of the Marxist TIP. After 1972, when the Nationalist Action Party abandoned its secularist stand in favor of an Islamist formula, its share of the vote increased. Ultimately, the Islamists succeeded forming the Great Union Party (BPP) which backed the Welfare Party. Meanwhile, the rise of the doctrinaire left undermined the RPP's muddled

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57

opening to the left and led to its closure by the military and its reemergence as the Democratic Left Party. The leftists defended an orthodox statist-socialist (Marxist) system under their command, while criticizing the old Kemalist-nationalist statist system, and specifically its policy towards the Kurds, as a variety of Kurdish groups advanced their nationalist claims under Marxist-leftist slogans. The split of Turkey into leftist and rightist camps, followed by bloody fights bordering on anarchism and chaos from 1975 to 1980, was really a rather unique social and ideological revolution that laid the foundations of the Ozal era and marked the opening of a new phase in Turkey's elite development. The establishment of the New Turkey Party (NTP) by Ekrem Alican in 1961, already had indicated that the center and the right were no longer content with parties that pursued the policies of the defunct Democratic Party. A number of 'liberal' business leaders, dissatisfied with the old agrarian-oriented economic policies of the DP, supported Alican, an economist for his industry-oriented approach. More important, but hardly noticed, was the fact that the NTP initially attracted a variety of religious groups, especially in the party's stronghold in the eastern part of the country. They were moderate, modernist Islamists in search of a middle-of-the-road, liberal, national party. However, as the left moved to its statist socialism after 1962, these groups returned to the Justice Party — he successor to the DP — and formed a consolidated front against the statists. However, the Islamist elites, encouraged by the liberal constitution of 1961, sought for new avenue to express their socio-cultural concerns. The secularist reforms carried out from 1923 to 1945 had abolished the organizations of established Islam and neutralized most of its leaders either through exile abroad or imposed silence. As a result, the mid-and lower-level religious elites became amalgamated into the population, sometimes by joining the formally dissolved, but informally active, popular brotherhoods. Although the leaders of these brotherhoods, initially, had appeared ready to support any opposition against the statist center, by 1980, they seemed to favor a modernism and democracy that recognized the historical realities of Turkey as indispensable parts of modernity.31 The diehard Islamists, on the other hand, mired in dogmatism and precedent appeared unwilling to separate cultural Islam from political.32 This type of political Islam came to be represented by a small group of educated professionals headed by Necmettin Erbakan, an engineer. This was a modern religious-civilian elite identified mostly with the old established Islam or trained in religious schools. They established successively the Millt Nizam (National Order) 1968-1971, Milli Selamet (National Salvation) (1972-1980) and finally the Refah (Welfare) Party (1982-1997), but all were closed by the military.33 Despite its support from some religious leaders, the Refah Party (RP) certainly was neither the sole voice of Islam or of fundamentalism, nor a front for all religious groups in Turkey. Neither did the party satisfy the extremist Islamists or practically minded moderate members who 31

32 33

After 1980 the military attempted to revive the six-principle of Kemalism by commissioning books on the subject and incorporating them in textbooks. For a discussion of these issues, see KALAYCIOGLU (1994). A brief history of these parties appears in HEPER (1997). See also fh. 22.

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looked upon Islam primarily as a culture. It basically represented a shrewd political move aiming to exploit the widespread yearning of the populace for some sort of formal-official acceptance of the society's Islamic identity and culture and its Ottoman past, but without any desire to restore the sultanate and caliphate or the empire. But what the Refah Party and many religious elites failed to understand and accept was that the popular yearning for recognition and respect for Islam needed to operate somehow in a secular, modernistic political frame. They never made clear that the party used the electoral process merely to gain a legitimate power and install an Islamist regime. The state elites, especially the military, on the other hand, condemned this popular longing for respect for their religious beliefs as just another form of religious reaction. Those statists and the Erbakan Islamists, whose battle revolve around rituals, rites and symbolic dress, rather than essence, ignore the reality of Islam in Turkey as well the fact that the modernists and conservatives (the true name for most Islamists) are actually much closer to each other than they appear. Secularization, be it viewed as de facto separation of governance from actual faith, or as religion becoming a private sphere of beliefs, is an accepted reality, while the manipulation of the faith by small religious and statist elites for maintaining their position and social roles continues. Since 1947 the proliferation of Islam and Islamic organizations, schools, publications and religious orders has made Turkey one of the most 'Islamic' countries in the world. The Directorate of Religious Affairs, bound to the Prime Minister's Office, has played a major role in this islamization and nationalization of Turkey, yet maintained some control over and directed religious activities, often in competition with other religious groups.34 Reciprocally, most of the religious groups have accepted the republican regime, democracy, cultural pluralism and various aspects of modernism. Recently, the Directorate has been accused by a group of politicized Alevis (Shiites) of being the instrument of Sunnism. One can easily categorize Islamic elites according to their acceptance of modernity. Nevertheless, the old statist and secularist elites, including the top echelons of the military, some academicians and the press (collectively referred once to as zinde kuwetler — live or strong powers) have viewed the growth of Islamic activities as a deviation from secularism (GOLE 1997, 46-58). Erbakan's three religious parties, in turn, have insinuated that the statist elites are at worst atheists and at best deviationists from the rightful path of nationalist Islam and from 'true' modernization and democracy. Until about 1991 Erbakan's party did not attract much following because it misunderstood and misinterpreted not only the nature of 'Islamic' yearning but also the extent to which change in Turkey has made fundamentalism unacceptable. Indeed, Erbakan believed that the support of the core Islamists and veiled criticism of the state-supported secularism would suffice to attract the masses. This Islamic elitism which Erbakan masked in populist, sentimental pietist and nationalist rhetoric did not produce much result until 1991. The early goal of the Refah leadership was the formal Islamization of the ruling political order, that is, the assumption of power in order to modernize 34

For this issue, see HEPER et al. (1993); (1996); TAPPER (1981); ^AKIR (1990).

GOLE

(1991);

BULA?

(1993a);

SARIBAY

(1994); S.

AYATA

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59

and 'revive' society according to their own, undefined, fuzzy, Utopian Islam, so well expressed in Erbakan's promise to bring about the devr-i saadet (the happy epoch), an astute reference both to the 'blissful' non materialistic early days of Islam and the promise of material betterment. At this stage, Erbakan courted the Nak§bendi groups, notably the core iskender Pa§a mosque group but not the moderate Kemalist modernists of Fethullah Giilen. The sad truth is that Erbakan is an opportunist avid for power, who does not have a firm social or philosophical stand. Many party members are privately critical of Erbakan but remain silent, afraid of undermining party solidarity and unity. The success of the two centerright parties, the Motherland and True Path parties in 1982-94 was assured by the moderate cultural Islamists who mistrusted Erbakan's Islamist rhetoric and especially his party's lack of an economic, popular and democratic platform. Turgut Ozal was able to enlist the technologically oriented, the moderate Islamist and nationalist elites, as well as some business leaders in establishing the Motherland Party in 1983. He was probably the first Turkish leader to establish a political party by relying on the cooperation of the new elites and then popularizing their views in the party program. Openly stating that he was a Nak§bendi, as was his mother, Ozal accepted the Islamic identity and culture of the country along with economic liberalism and unfettered democracy. In effect, he promised a new type of modernism based on broader economic and political participation, conformity to market forces, opening society fully to western technology, respect for Islamic identity and culture and incorporation of all the major social and ethno-religious groups into the political process.35 As such, he greatly undermined Erbakan's appeal. Spectacular economic social and cultural development were seen since 1983, perhaps as a result of Ozal's concepts of a truly representative pluralist democracy and economic development. That development also has led to further growth of the economic elite of industrialists, bankers and commercial interests represented in the powerful TUSIAD (Association of Turkish Industrialists and Businessmen), established in 1971. TUSlAD's political activities have become increasingly bolder, as it publicly has advocated integrating Turkey into the western economy, creating an unadulterated market economy and taking political and social measures to achieve broader participation, for instance, lowering from 10 to 5 percent the proportion of the vote necessary for a party form a parliamentary caucus.36 The so-called economic miracle of Turkey and the Motherland Party's redefinition of modernism to encompass freedom, economic development, and a respect for tradition that includes moderate Islam eventually were accepted by the military as beneficial to all. Ozal's successful modernism also marginalized Erbakan's Refah Party and finally forced it to take advantage of the elitism of the other parties by adopting a truly populist economic stand. Meanwhile, Ozal's failure to formalize his own views and his open defiance of status, traditions and a 35

See HEPER and LANDAU (1991). A succinct tabulation of Turkish political parties and the proceedings of votes appears in TACHAU (1994), pp. 560-563 and AHMAD (1993), pp. 54-76, passim.

36

TUSIAD, Tiirkiye 'de Demokratikle§me Perspektifleri (Perspectives on Democratization in Turkey) Special Report prepared by the Committee on Parliamentary Issues (Istanbul, 22 January 1997).

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Kemal H. Karpat

few other errors of etiquette after becoming president, and finally his death in 1993, left his Motherland Party disoriented and rudderless like the country itself. The RP leaders at the center took their clue from the RP mayors who captured and retained the mayoralties of Turkey's largest cities and scores of towns. Through efficient, honest and democratic administration, the mayors secured the support of communal leaders, small-town merchants as well as many secularminded citizens. Consequently, the RP broadened its platform by promising them economic development, tax support, credit on easy terms and respect for the country's Islamic identity and culture and democracy.37 The party then raised its percentage of the popular vote from 16.7 in 1991, to nearly 22 percent in 1995, becoming Turkey's largest party. It formed a government in coalition with the True Path,3* but it was forced to resign in mid-1997. After it was dissolved by court order in 1998 for having violated the Republic's secularist principles, it re-merged as the Fazilet (Virtue) Party. The military played a key role through the National Security Council both in forcing Erbakan's resignation, and in implementing their secularist policies through the new coalition government headed by Mesut Yilmaz, leader of the Motherland Party, a mere shadow of Ozal's original. The fundamental transformation of elite alignment and political participation that took place in the RP may expand to the entire country. As indicated, the founders and leaders of the RP and its predecessors are nationalists and modernists, but have been unable so far define the relationship between Islam und modernism. Unable to formulate the issues confronting Turkey in concepts acceptable both to 'secularists' and 'Islamists', they have resorted to Islamic myths and slogans and promises without substance, designated to gather votes. The younger generation in the RP could not challenge the old leaders, out of deference to their age, seniority and davaya hizmet (service to the cause) but became utterly dissatisfied with the leaders' extremism. The military may have solved the problem for them by pushing the old leaders aside. The newly-formed Fazilet Party appears to be controlled by Erbakan's handpicked proxy, first, ismail Alptekin, and then the more appealing Recai Kutan. Erbakan himself formally prohibited from political activity for five years tried to govern the party from behind even though many younger members resented it. Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the best representative of this group, the mayor of Istanbul was condemned to 10 months in jail for an 'anti-secularist' speech. Born to an 37

38

The appeal to Islamic loyalties has been used subtly by all modernist parties. Dogru Yol (True Path) is a modern Turkified version of the Arabic Sirat-i Mustakim, a basic slogan of the fundamentalists and the name of a famous early Islamist review of the 1910s. Erbakan's decision to make peace and to form a coalition government with Ms. Tansu (filler, the head of the True Path Party, was an astute move to use her 'modernist' appeal, filler's meteoric rise to power, and through it, her wealth was due among other things to her youth, and especially to her doctoral studies in the United States which she adroitly advertised as having prepared her for 'modernity', change and better days to come. Her impressive for the chairmanship of the True Path Party won her immediate popular acceptance. The two men were party veterans and enjoyed strong support from their provincial constituencies but could not overcome (filler's modernist national appeal. All this meant that new objective criteria for national leadership had superseded the old personal local and regional ties. Unfortunately filler, for reasons which cannot be discussed here, plus a variety of other instruments, in order to maintain her leadership position at all costs.

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immigrant family from the Black Sea region and married to a woman from Bitlis in eastern Turkey, Erdogan seems to represent best the new populist, democratic and Islamist elites; his radical rhetoric notwithstanding. Erbakan regarded him as a dangerous rival. It is debatable, however whether the military would let the new modernist-Islamist elites take command of the party or produce the statement and program that could reconcile the regime's secularism and modernism with society's Islamic culture and Ottoman past. In truth, this Islamist elite's manner of living, thinking, and acting is not much different from that of their secularist counterparts. For example, contrary to his campaign promises, the mayor of Istanbul has not prohibited the wearing of mini-skirts, night-clubs, consumption of alcohol and a variety of other secularist 'European' ways. The mayor began to serve his jail sentence in March 1999, amidst an enormous outpouring of popular support and emotion that made him a hero and prepared his ascendancy to power. Conclusion The function of the elites in Turkey was defined by the establishment, expansion and modernization of the Ottoman state. Because the Ottoman dynasty and the bureaucracy began as a military elite free of tribal, ethnic, and social ties, they made association with the state the criterion for defining status. In time, the mystical religious elites, who mobilized popular support for the emerging state and formulated the Ghazi ideology, were replaced by the members of established Islam. Each one of the three elites (the popular brotherhoods, established Islam and the statists) devised its own method of recruitment and an autonomous sphere for itself. In time, the statist group monopolized power and became the guardian and master of the state and faith under the formula of din ii devlet, the fusion of faith and state. The slow penetration of capitalism beginning in the eighteenth century intensified the commercialization of agriculture. Coupled with the weakening of central authority, that commercialization permitted civilian elites with support from the popular religious leaders to rise to influence over their communities. Known as ayan, then as e§raf, and agahan, they were the precursors of a new Muslim middle class. The bureaucracy's desire to centralize authority and introduce reforms in order to strengthen the state, from both the faith and the dynasty. Ultimately it forced the sultan to seek popular support by emphasizing his religious role as caliph of the prophet. For its part, the modernist bureaucracy, now relying on the military, made modernism its ideology and resorted to elections and parliamentary representation so as to make the 'nation' the source of its power and legitimacy. The introduction and rapid expansion of the modern system under the rule of Abdulhamid broadened the basis of elite recruitment by allowing the countryside notables access to government positions and professions. It thus undermined the modernist bureaucratic group's monopoly over knowledge and also the power and prestige of the §eyhulislamate — the pillar of the religious establishment. The Constitution and the Parliament of 1876-78 were efforts by the modernist wing of

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Kemal H. Karpat

the bureaucracy to create a 'third' power, the 'people', and use it to curb the sultan's absolutism. But, inadvertently, the process accorded the civilian countryside elites — landlords, merchants and ulema families — recognition as quasi-representatives of the 'nation'. The Young Turks' Revolution of 1908 signaled the victory of the bureaucratic wing that was modernist, liberal and positivist, having been trained in the upper professional schools. It opened avenues to power, including the military route for countryside leaders with a business or property and some popular support. Both the bureaucracy and countryside elites favored elections to legitimize their power, but in reality the statists' control of the government allowed them to manipulate the elections. The Young Turks' rule from 1908 to 1918, not only popularized the idea that the nation's will was the source of governmental authority but also permitted a variety of ethnic, religious, social, professional and intellectual elites to gain public acceptance as the 'true' spokesman for the nation. Although the War of Liberation was won through the cooperation of practically all the elites, the army and other nationalist statists claimed the victory for themselves and ignored the others. Nevertheless, the First National Assembly was convened in 1920, and the republic was established in 1923, by free vote, not military intervention. Ultimately the RPP emerged as the party of the statist elites as well as the sole spokesman for the 'nation' and the enforcer of modernity. Mustafa Kemal (Atatiirk) attributed all decisions to the will of the nation in a formal, yet symbolic, personal dissociation from power. He also made the military's non-involvement in politics an informal state principle which, though often violated, managed to retain its symbolic meaning. However, Atatiirk's effort to rise above political parties and make himself, the impartial arbiter of party competition failed as the RPP established by Atatiirk himself, insisted on retaining his leadership and the Liberal Party of Fethi Okyar, founded at Atatiirk's suggestion, was closed. The expanded educational system, relative growth of the professional elites and industrialization all increased the numbers of elites but did not enable them to challenge the supremacy of the statists. Only the multiparty system introduced in 1945/46, supplemented by a direct and safe voting system, put an end to RPP rule in 1950. The statist elites, represented by the RPP utilized secularism, defense of the Atatiirk reforms and finally the army to regain their control of the government in 1960 and 1971. In contrast, the third intervention by the statist elites in 1980 was caused by the disintegration of the coalition linking the army, the RPP, the universities and the press.39 The rise of the religious elites and the extraordinary revitalization of Islam have provided a constant rationale for military intervention. The process, however, results from the enduring misperceptions by both the statist and Islamist elites of 39

In an article — interpreted wrongly by many as a defense of the military — this author supported the view that the intervention of 1980 was bound to be the army's last direct takeover of power, since the military was deprived of a social bases. In the period 1980-1985 the military made a concerted effort to revive 'Kemalist' ideology and create an elite charged to disseminate it. The Atatiirk Council, which controlled the Historical Society, the Language Society, etc. used dozens of Atatiirk Institutes for this purpose but without much visible success. See KARPAT (1981).

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the process itself and of each others motives and goals. In the view of the statists, especially the army, all the Islamist leaders are reactionaries bent on using democratic channels to gain power and establish a theocracy. On other hand, some old religious leaders view the statists and the army as forcibly restricting the 'nation's' Islamic aspirations and often describe them as those who 'violated the nation's conscience', 'trampled on its soul', etc. In fact, the great majority of Islamists of all shades and the overwhelming majority of the population accept modernity, in general, and the Kemalist republic in particular. They look upon religion only as a source of spiritual nourishment and just want to practice their faith without fear of stigma or punishment. There is an obvious and urgent need in Turkey to redefine 'secularism', 'Islamism' and 'reactionism'. Until then political participation and elite status will be defined by the ideological classifications of 'Islamist' and 'Kemalist'. The elites lack the capacity for self-analysis and are fundamentally conservative, so they fail to understand the very progress they have achieved despite themselves. Their mutual suspicions create in the public mind a constant fear that the existence of their state could be destroyed by a misstep from either side. As a result the public has been extremely critical of the army's intervention in politics and matters of faith yet trusts the military more that any other institution because the army is committed to preserving the state its independence. A poll conducted in 1997 indicated that 87 percent of the respondents trusted the army, while only 29, 32 and 39 percent, respectively, had confidence in Parliament, the government, and the judiciary.40 Some 88 percent of the respondents were critical of the political system despite universal suffrage (reduction in the voting age to eighteen), free elections and considerable freedoms. The criticism was directed specifically against the aged political leaders for their autocratic attitudes, single-handed control of the parties and their unwillingness to allow the new, younger business, academic, journalistic and professional elites to play a meaningful part in the political process. In sum, Turkey's elites lack a truly democratic culture; they preach democracy in order to perpetuate elitism and their own personal autocracy.

40

"The people have spoken: global views of democracy" published by USIA Research and Media Reaction, January 1998, p. 13.

Turkey: The role of the military in politics WILLIAM H A L E

The role of the military in Turkish politics is both important and intellectually challenging. On the one hand, Turkey has been under civilian government for all but some four and a half years of the 74 years since the proclamation of the republic in 1923.1 On the other hand, since the end of World War II, when multiparty democracy was introduced, there have been three outright military interventions. Moreover, throughout the republican period, as in the Ottoman era, the military has enjoyed both a high degree of autonomy in the conduct of its professional functions of ensuring the defence and security of the state, as well as the ability to direct or influence government policy in other fields, through either overt or covert action. In other words, Turkey has found it very hard to adopt the classical liberal-democratic model of civilian-military relations, in which the military commanders are entitled to advise the government on questions affecting national defence and security, but do not independently decide policy in these or other theatres, and are both separated from and subject to the civil power in constitutional theory and practice. At the same time, what is remarkable about the Turkish case is the fact that, since 1960, while the armed forced have carried out two outright coups d'etat (in 1960 and 1980) and one quasi-coup (in 1971) they have, on all three occasions, voluntarily withdrawn within a reasonably short period of time, to be replaced by elected civilian governments. Part of the explanation for the Turkish Armed Forces political activism may not be very different from that which would be given to explain similar phenomena in many other countries — that is to say that civilian political institutions have been relatively weak, and civilian government sometimes dangerously unstable and ineffective. On the other side, the armed forces are inherently relatively well disciplined, and possess an internal chain of command and overwhelming physical power which enables them to take over government at moments of crisis. As Thomas Hobbes' famous phrase puts it when nothing else is turned up, clubs are trumps (quoted in HUNTINGTON 1968, 196). On the other hand, factors peculiar to Turkey's own political culture and history need to be examined, in an attempt to explain why the Turkish army has continued to play an important and independent political role, even when the country has been under democratic government. Such considerations also highlight the fact that the armed forces still preserve a striking degree of public support and prestige, in spite of numerous political mistakes and failures. To examine these experiences more fully, this chapter undertakes a summary historical survey of the Turkish Armed Forces' political role, concentrating on the twentieth century. A final analytical section attempts to draw

1

This calculation excludes the period of 31 months (12 March 1971 - 14 October 1973) during which Turkey was under formally civilian governments, which in fact were largely directed by the military chiefs. See, e.g. HALE (1994), chapter 8. The present chapter is based largely on this earlier work.

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these threads together and tries to offer some explanations for special features of the Turkish case. The Ottoman army and state power: zenith, decline and reform At the height of their power, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Ottomans had ruled over a vast empire, comprising myriad ethnic and religious groups. Their territories were essentially defined by what their armies could conquer and defend. In many respects, the Ottoman army was the Ottoman state, and vice versa. The military and civilian arms of the state were not clearly differentiated, since the same officials often carried out both military and official functions, or could be switched from one to the other in the course of their careers. By the late eighteenth century, however, these once powerful forces had lost the capacity to either protect the empire from its external enemies or maintain state authority internally. As Bernard Lewis suggests, "the Ottoman armies, once the terror of Europe, ceased to frighten anyone but their own sovereigns and their own civil population" (LEWIS 1961, 23-24). The need for military reform and reconstruction was inescapable. The crucial turning point in the drive for military modernisation occurred in 1826 when Sultan Mahmut II dissolved the janissaries corps, which had been the backbone of the old army and the main obstacle to reform. During the following period of the Tanzimat reforms, lasting up to the 1870s, a new army was steadily built up, and a system of conscription was introduced. Then, as now, it was organised on a territorial basis, with the First Army based in Istanbul, the Second Army in Edirne, and so on. To train a new corps of officers on western lines, a School of Military Sciences (Mekteb-i Ulum-i Harbiye, or Harbiye for short) was opened in 1837, and within this, a Staff College, which graduated its first students in 1849 (OZKAN 1985; CHOKER 1985). In the minds of the Sultans and their ministers, a major aim of these reforms was to strengthen their own power: the Tanzimat was to stop short at their own thrones. However, before long, many of their military and civil servants began to think of constitutional change, as an unplanned by-product of their exposure to western thought and methods. In effect, they believed that the Ottoman state could only be saved by the institution of a more responsible form of government. This demand came to a head during the complex internal and external political crisis which rocked the empire during 1874-76. On 30 May 1876 troops commanded by Husnii Suleyman Pa§a, head of the Harbiye college, surrounded the Dolmabah?e Palace, forcing Sultan Abdiilaziz to abdicate. These events led to the proclamation of the empire's first constitution, based on that of Belgium, on 23 December 1876 (DEVEREUX 1963, 32-46, 80-82; DAVISON 1963, 326-57). The fact that the army (or, at least, important sections of it) had played a major role in bringing this about, cemented the idea in the minds of the new generation of officers that they had a right to intervene in politics to secure responsible government and the continuation of modernising reforms - a principle which has lasted to this day. Unfortunately, this first experiment in representative government was shortlived. The indirectly elected Chamber of Deputies duly convened on 19 March 1877, but the threatened war with Russia erupted one month later. Sultan

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67

Abdiilhamid II seized the opportunity to prorogue the chamber indefinitely, using the substantial prerogatives which he retained under the constitution, and ruled as an absolute monarch for the next 30 years. Politically, he may be seen as an outright reactionary. Nonetheless, his continued commitment to strengthening the executive power of the state meant that the modernisation continued in the armed forces. As a result, the progressivist element within the officer corps continued to watch events, prepared to intervene if internal or external circumstances appeared to justify (or, as they saw it necessitate) another intervention. In the Third Army, based in Salonika, an important group of officers joined the Committee of Union and Progress {CUP)2 which sought 'to save the Empire' by re-instating the constitution. In June 1908, suspecting that the Sultan's agents were poised to uncover their organisation, the 'unionist' officers in the Balkans and their men rose in revolt. Since he feared the spread of the rebellion, Abdulhamit rapidly capitulated on 23 July, by promising to reconvene the Parliament.3 The 'Young Turk era' was born, essentially from the womb of the army. The Young Turks in power: 1908-1918 The 1908 revolution was initially welcomed by all communities in the empire as the dawn of a new order. However, as political actors, the young officers who had brought it about were weakened by their own inexperience and internal divisions, as well as the fact that within the army there were still powerful conservative forces who aimed to resist the Young Turks' rise to power. At the popular level, the leaders of the revolt Captain Enver, Major Ahmet Cemal and Adjutant Major Ahmet Niyazi — were promoted as the 'Heroes of Freedom'. 4 However, in the early post-revolutionary years they did not take up leading positions in politics. Instead, they allowed a succession of senior statesmen from the old regime to head the government as Grand Viziers. In April 1909, the uncertain revolution was challenged by the men of the First Army, based in Istanbul. They were led by junior officers who had been promoted from the ranks, and were known as the alaylis ('regimental officers') to distinguish them from those officers who had been through the modern military colleges, and were referred to as the mekteplis ('schooled officers'). The alaylis joined many of the ordinary soldiers, as well as many conservative Muslim civilians, in opposing the 1908 revolution and the forces which had produced it. Ideological preferences and professional interests thus came together in what was known as the 31 March Incident the date on which

2

3

Its conventional title in English, although the Turkish title, ittihad ve Terakki Cemiyeti, means "Society of Union and Progress" rather than "Committee."

literally

F o r f u l l e r a c c o u n t s , s e e A H M A D ( 1 9 6 9 ) , p p . 1 - 1 3 , A K ? I N ( 1 9 8 7 ) , p p . 6 9 - 8 2 , a n d BUXTON ( 1 9 0 9 ) , 5 5 73.

4

See, for instance, the postcard reproduced in BUXTON (1909), p. 68. Of three, Niyazi returned to his military duties after the revolution: he participated in the suppression of the rebellion of '31 March' (see below) but never won high political office, and was assassinated in Albania in 1912. The third member of the ruling Young Turk triumvirate of 1914-18 was Mehmet Talat, a former postal official who was the leading civilian member of the CUP and one of the original conspirators.

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the mutiny broke out, in the version of the solar calendar then used in the empire (13 April 1909 in the Gregorian calendar). Although the mutineers of 31 March included a large number of ordinary soldiers, NCOs and junior officers in Istanbul, and probably enjoyed the covert support of Abdiilhamit, the balance of power in the army was strongly against them, since the mekteplis, and others who were loyal to the 1908 revolution, occupied most of the crucial command posts outside the capital. In Salonika, the Third Army, commanded by Mahmut §evket's forces, which included Albanian, Greek, Serbian and Macedonian volunteers5 as well as regular Turkish soldiers, were drawn up in the western suburb of San Stefano (now Ye§ilkoy) on 22 April, and took over the city after only half-hearted resistance two days later. On 27 April, Abdiilhamit was deposed by a vote of parliament, to be succeeded by his brother Re§at, who took the throne as Mehmet V.6 In retrospect, the important point about the 31 March Incident was that the revolt was rapidly and sternly suppressed: in fact, it turned out to be the last example of a peacetime mutiny by the rank and file soldiers. From now on, all political interventions were commanded by the officer corps, or part of it. However, this did not guarantee a united or loyal army. Although they had united in support of the 1908 revolution, the Young Turks were fatally divided by political loyalties — notably between the 'liberals', who looked to the constitution to secure a democratic political order in which all the diverse groups and religious denominations which made up the empire could be represented and reconciled, and the 'unionists', who put their main emphasis on maintaining the integrity of the fatherland, even if this meant suppressing civil liberties. Rather than being obliged to retire from the political stage, the army was placed firmly back on it after 31 March, as martial law was retained in Istanbul until March 1911. Although the unionists had been in the ascendant since 1909, their power was shaken by the invasion by Italy of what is now Libya in September 1911. As a sign of this, the liberal candidate won a striking victory in a by-election in Istanbul in December of that year. The unionists then used the government's control of the press and public meetings to mount flagrantly rigged general elections in April 1912. In response, a group of officers in Istanbul who favoured the liberals, and were supported by sections of the army in the Balkans, formed a group known as the Saviour Officers (Halaskar Zabit&n) demanding new elections. As Minister of War, Mahmut §evket prepared a change to the military penal code which would have banned any political activity by serving officers, but he was forced to resign by the unionists on 10 July 1912. However, in the face of threatened action by the Saviour Officers, the government itself resigned five days later.7

5

6

Of these, the largest contingent was that of the Albanians, led by Niyazi (information from Erik-Jan Ziircher). For more detailed accounts of the 31 March Incident and its aftermath, see AK$1N (1970), MCCULLAGH ( 1 9 1 0 ) a n d FAHRI ( 1 9 7 1 ) .

7

This and the following account of events between 1909 and 1914 are based on AK$1N (1987), pp. 141-250.

Turkey: The role of the military in politics

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External events then combined with internal upheavals to bring the unionists back to power. Following the empire's disastrous defeats in the first Balkan War of 1912-13, the then government, under the liberal Kamil Pa§a, was thought to be ceding the frontier city of Edirne to the Bulgarians: (for the Turks, Edirne had great symbolic importance, since it had once been the capital of the Ottoman empire, and was the leading Muslim city in eastern Thrace). In reaction, Enver, who was by this time Chief of Staff of the Strategic Reserve in Istanbul, led the infamous raid on the 'Sublime Porte' of 23 January 1913 in which the War Minister, Nazim Pa§a and two guards were killed. Kamil Pa§a resigned, and Mahmut §evket, who stepped into the breach as Grand Vizier, formally ceded Edirne to Bulgaria under the Treaty of London of April 1913. On 11 June, he was murdered by four opposition gunmen while driving from the War Ministry. The unionists seized the opportunity to reimpose martial law in Istanbul, and virtually all the leaders of the liberal opposition were executed or imprisoned. The new Grand Vizier, Sait Halim Pa§a, was a virtual puppet of the unionists, and their dominance was sealed in July when Enver led the recapture of Edirne from the Bulgarians during the brief Second Balkan War of June-August 1913. In January 1914 he secured his own appointment as Minister of War, and lightning promotion from Lieutenant-Colonel to Brigadier, with the title of Pasha. Meanwhile his two colleagues in the original rising of 1908, Ahmet Cemal and Mehmet Talat, became Minister of the Navy and Minister of Interior respectively. Although Sait Halim stayed on as Grand Vizier until 1917, the Young Turk triumvirate, of which Enver was easily the most powerful member, became the real rulers of Turkey until the end of the Great War. Given that the war was to prove the final disaster for the Ottoman Empire, it could have been expected that the political position of the army would have collapsed with it (as happened, for instance, in the case of the German and Japanese armies at the end of World War II). That this was not the case was partly due to the fact that the army preserved its status as a sort of 'state within the state'. In spite of its defeats on the battlefield, the army as an institution survived disaster for the government. Moreover, the survival of the army was not the only effect of the turbulent experiences of 190818. For later Turkish officers, the most salient lesson was that prolonged and political involvement had severely weakened the army as a fighting force — most notably in the Balkan wars. Hence, while the army did not abandon its political role, the preservation of unity and discipline within its ranks became a primary objective. The Kemalist state and its army: 1918-1945 The dramatic events of 1918-24, in which the Turkish state escaped virtual extinction by the entente powers, and the nationalist movement led by Kemal Ataturk established the foundations of a modernist, secular republic, need no repetition here, and are related in other contributions to this volume. What is important for the theme of this chapter is that Ataturk did not initially enjoy unchallenged dominance, and faced challenges from some of his generals who felt they had played just as important roles in the nationalist movement as he had. Their

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position was strengthened by the fact that they were initially able to serve as members of parliament while still holding active army commands. To counter this, legal and constitutional changes were enacted to separate the army from the legislative and executive branches of government. A law was passed on 13 December 1923 which provided that, in future elections, serving officers elected to parliament would be obliged to resign their commissions before taking their seats. Later on, what is now Article 148 of the Military Penal code made it a punishable offence for any soldier to join a political party, or engage in any public political activities or declarations.8 It appears that Atatürk's motives in enacting these changes — especially the first — were not just based on principle, but to prevent his actual or potential rivals from using their positions in the army to promote their own political ambitions. At the end of October 1924, two of the most prominent of them, Generals Kazim Karabekir and Ali Fuat Cebesoy, were obliged to resign their commissions, following a claim by Atatürk (for which it is hard to find substantial evidence) that they had been preparing a plot against him.9 When the republic's first opposition party, the Progressive Republican Party, was established in the following month, Käzim Karabekir became its chairman, with Ali Fuat as Secretary-General. Two other recently retired generals, Cafer Tayyar Egilmez and Refet Bele, were prominent members. The party was closed down by cabinet decision in June 1925, after the suppression of the §eyh Sait rebellion. Atatürk's domination was further reinforced in the summer of 1926, following an apparently genuine attempt on his life in izmir. Käzim, Ali Fuat, Refet and Cafer Tayyar were arrested and placed on trial. In fact, since there was no evidence against them, they were all acquitted. Nevertheless, they all seem to have taken the point that outright opposition to Atatürk would be fatal (ZÜRCHER 1991, 45-7, 54, 65, 91; ZÜRCHER 1984, 142-54). It is frequently asserted that it was Atatürk's principle to exclude the army from politics. The events of 1924-26, and Atatürk's subsequent policies, suggest that this was only half the truth. Rather, as George S. Harris remarks, his "main concern with the army was not to keep it out of politics, but to make sure it remained completely loyal to him and the Republic" (1965, 56). Until January 1944, this was largely secured by the position of Fevzi £akmak as Chief of the General Staff. Although excessively conservative in the strictly military sense, £akmak was a loyal supporter of Atatürk. Meanwhile the army was used by the government as a means of asserting its power (for instance, as a means of spreading basic education and enhancing national consciousness among the millions or rural conscripts). In a tradition which continues to this day, the military education system imbued fledgling officers with the virtues of modernism and Kemalist secularism. The army's loyalty to the government thus survived Atatürk's death in 1938, and the

8 9

For the text of the law of 13 December 1923, see TUN^AY (1981), p. 113. Atatiirk's version of these events appears in his marathon six-day speech, delivered to the congress of the Republican People's Party in October 1927: for an English translation, see A speech delivered by Ghazi Mustapha Kemal (1929), pp. 687-689, 690-694. Ali Fuat Cebesoy's version appears in his memoirs, Siyasi hatiralar (1960), Vol. 2, pp. 94-97.

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strains of World War II, during which ismet inonii, his successor as President, left his political legacy virtually unaltered. Democracy and intervention: 1945-1960 After World War II, President ismet inonii took the momentous step of voluntarily ending the Republican People's Party's monopoly of power, and allowing Adnan Menderes's Democrat Party (DP) to come to office in free and fair elections in 1950. Although most of the top military commanders probably sympathised with the Republican People's Party (CHP), inonii's great prestige as an old soldier and Atatiirk's right hand man, as well as his commitment to the institution of a multiparty system, held them back from any decisive opposition to this process. Nor was the army united behind the CHP, since several senior officers sympathised with the DP and two of them, Fahri Belen and Seyfi Kurtbek, took office in Menderes' first cabinet.10 However, by the mid-1950s, discontent against the Menderes regime had begun to well up among junior officers. The feeling that the Democrats had downgraded the army, both socially and politically, and resentment at their sharply reduced standard of living in the face of rising inflation, angered many officers. Those of more radical political persuasions also began to wonder whether inonii's installation of a multi-party regime had not been premature, and whether Turkey needed a renewed dose of authoritarian rule to protect the Kemalist legacy and complete its agenda. As a result, numerous conspiratorial groups began to arise during the mid 1950s. However, on 26 December 1958 a recent recruit to their number, Major Samet KU§9U, was arrested by the security police and revealed the names of nine officers alleged to be engaged in the conspiracy. Other arrests followed, and for the time being the revolutionary groups seemed to have been broken up ( i P E K 0 and Co§AR 1965, 30-51, 61-5, 74-100; AYDEMIR 1968, 25-46). Nonetheless, the dissident movement was reconstructed by Major Sadi Ko?a§, who in February 1959 persuaded General Cemal Giirsel, the recently appointed Commander of Land Forces, to lead a possible intervention. The occasion to do so did not arise until April 1960 when the Menderes government passed a motion to establish a Committee to Investigate the Activities of the Republican People's Party and a Section of the Press. This suggested that Menderes was aiming to close down the opposition. It triggered off violent demonstrations in Istanbul and Ankara, causing the government to declare martial law in the two cities on 29 April. The declaration forced the military chiefs to decide whether they were prepared to bail Menderes out. Although the Chief of the General Staff General Rii§tii Erdelhun, still sided with Menderes, a sufficient number of generals - including, most notably, the martial law commander in Istanbul and Commander of the First Army, General Fahri Ozdilek — decided they were not prepared to rescue the government.

10

Immediately after the 1950 elections a group of generals visited Inonii and offered to intervene and to annul the results, but were firmly told to desist. AHMAD (1977), pp. 150- 51, and BIRAND et al. ( 1 9 9 1 ) , pp. 1 7 - 2 6 .

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Accordingly, in the early morning of 27 May, the conspirators struck. Led by Generals Cemal Madanoglu, Irfan Ba§tug, and Sitki Ulay, they rapidly sized control of key points in Ankara and arrested Menderes and his chief colleagues. Later in the same morning, Cemal Giirsel, who had inopportunely resigned as Commander of Land Forces on 3 May, was brought back to Ankara from his home in izmir to head the new regime.11 The Army in power: May 1960 - November 1961 Although the post-coup regime was headed by one of Turkey's most senior generals, most of its preparation and execution had been carried out by middleranking and junior officers, many of whom had been planning such a move for several years. Immediately after he returned to Ankara on 27 May, Cemal Giirsel seems to have assumed that he could send them back to their units, and rule the country in collaboration with the four officers of general's rank who had participated in or supported the coup (that is, Generals Madanoglu, Ozdilek, Bajtug and Ulay). The middle-ranking officers rapidly disabused him of this notion, but it was not until 11 June that an unwieldy and divided junta of no less than 38 officers was appointed under Giirsel's chairmanship, to take over legislative powers from the dissolved Assembly. It was known, rather inappropriately, as the National Unity Committee (NUC). Meanwhile, a cabinet, headed by Giirsel as Prime Minister and composed mainly of civilian technocrats, took over formal executive powers on 28 May. In practice, however, the NUC acted as both executive and legislature (BlRAND et al. 1991, 116-39; i P E K 0 and Co§AR 298-301; ERKANLI 1973, 18-21; TURGUT 1995, 149). From the start, the fate of the former Menderes government was one of the thorniest issues which the government faced. The former premier, together with his cabinet and all the Democrat Party's MPs, had been taken into custody on 27 May, supposedly for their own safety. Meanwhile, on the morning of the coup, Giirsel had called in a group of academic specialists, and asked them to prepare a new constitution. Accordingly, a constitutional commission was established under Professor Siddik Sami Onar. Apparently, the professors then told the generals that if they were to justify the coup, they must be able to show that the former government had infringed the previous constitution, or committed other serious crimes. From this arose the decision to set up a special court, which opened proceedings against the former government on the Marmara island of Yassiada on October 1960. In the meantime, the academics were seriously divided about the shape of the new constitution, and it was not until 17 October that they produced

11

For fuller a c c o u n t s , s e e HALE ( 1 9 9 4 ) , pp. 1 0 2 - 1 0 and IPEKGT and CO?AR ( 1 9 6 5 ) , pp.

100-229.

Further, and sometimes conflicting details appear in the memoirs of those involved, notably TURGUT ( 1 9 9 5 ) , pp. 9 2 - 1 4 2 , ULAY ( 1 9 6 8 ) , pp. 6 1 - 1 0 8 , and ERKANLI ( 1 9 7 3 ) , pp. i n t e r v i e w s in BIRAND et al. ( 1 9 9 1 ) , pp. 1 5 7 - 2 0 9 .

1 2 - 1 6 . S e e a l s o the

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their draft (WEIKER 1963, 25-31, 64-70; TOKER 1967, 19, 55, 66; T U R G U T 1995, 185-90).12 Unfortunately for the junta, the long delay in laying the foundations for a return to civilian rule opened up a serious division within its own ranks. This could be broadly characterised as a contest between the 'conservatives' and 'radicals', although the appropriateness of these terms may be disputed. Colonel Alparslan Türke? is normally identified as the leader of the radical group: as special advisor to Giirsel, he also occupied a senior position in the regime. However, his leadership was not accepted by all the radicals, who were divided by both personal rivalries and political sympathies. At the same time, they seem to have been united in opposing an early return to civilian politics, which they assumed would result in the resumption of power by Inönü and the CHP. As an alternative, they were prepared to consider some sort of long-term military regime. Following his dismissal as Gürsel's adviser on 22 September, Türke? and four of his then supporters also discussed launching a counter-coup with a view to ejecting their rivals from the NUC. The contest was brought to a head by Gürsel's proposal to establish a Constituent Assembly (Kurucu Meclis) which would consider the text of the new constitution, and take over legislative powers from the NUC. The radicals strongly opposed this, since they saw it as a clear first step to winding up the military regime. Eventually, as the sole means of overcoming the blockage, Gürsel and his colleagues removed Türke? and 13 of his supporters on 13 November I960, sending them into exile as 'advisers' to various Turkish embassies abroad (TOKER 1967, 101-52; WEIKER 1963, 52-4, 131-4; ERKANLI 1973, 135-41, 144-58; ÌPEKGÌ and C o § A R 1965, 452-503; T U R G U T 1995, 260-80; ILICAK 1975, 87, 193, 248; S E Y H A N 1966, 113-7). The purge of the '14' cleared the way for the establishment of the Constituent Assembly (from which DP supporters were carefully excluded) and the completion of the new constitution on 27 May 1961. The constitution included tighter definition of civil liberties, a bicameral legislature, and the institution of a Constitutional Court — all measures which, it was hoped, would reduce the powers of future governments and thus prevent the near-monopolisation of power which the DP had enjoyed. However, when it was submitted to a national referendum on 9 July, the constitution was carried by a majority of only 62 to 38 per cent. This was taken as a dear indication that a substantial proportion of the electorate still supported the DP. Worse was to come on 15 September, when the Yassiada court sentenced 15 members of the former regime to death. The death sentences on three of the accused Adnan Menderes, his former Foreign Minister Fatih Rü?tü Zorlu and Hasan Polatkan, formerly Finance Minister were confirmed by a narrow majority of the NUC and carried out on 17 September. The executions widened the deep divisions which the 27 May coup had opened up in Turkish society, and did lasting damage to the soldiers' image as impartial arbitrators. Meanwhile, a powerful pressure group, called the Armed Forces Union (AFU) had

12

Turkey claims that the initiative for the trials came from some members of the NUC who openly favoured the Republican People's Party, and not just the academic experts.

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been formed among serving officers as a sort of counter-junta to the NUC, to resist an early return to civilian government.13 When general elections were held on 15 October 1961, the CHP failed to win an overall majority, leaving the Justice Party (AP) which had been established in February 1961 as a thinly-disguised successor to the DP, with 158 of the 450 seats in the lower house. On 21 October, 28 senior officers met in Istanbul to sign a 'protocol' demanding the annulment of the election results and the establishment of a new junta. However, this failed to win the support of Cevdet Sunay, the Chief of the General Staff, and his four force commanders. Instead, on 24 October and under strong military pressure, the party leaders were forced to accept what became known as the Qankaya protocol, establishing a coalition of the CHP and AP, under inonii's premiership. With Giirsel as President, the new government was sworn in on 29 October, and the NUC was dissolved. Civilian government had finally been re-installed, but only after constant upsets and crises (TOKER 1967, 188-233; WEIKER 1963, 64-115; ILICAK 1975, 194-7; SEYHAN 1966, 134-58; AYDEMiR 1968, 90-108; §evket Sureyya AYDEMIR 1969, 535-48). Civilian government and renewed intervention, 1961-1973 The events of October 1961 had brought about a return to civilian government, but initially it was anything but stable or effective, inonii's government was weakened by almost constant tensions between the CHP and the Justice Party, and fall apart in June 1962. The veteran premier then patched together two successive coalitions with minor parties and independents, but was finally forced to leave office in February 1965. Following the installation of an interim caretaker government, it was not until October 1965 that general elections resolved the parliamentary instability by delivering an overall majority for the Justice Party. Siileyman Demirel, who had taken over the leadership of the party in November 1964, gave it a new strength and direction, and seemed determined to turn away from the bitter quarrels which the 27 May coup had produced.

13

Much mystery surrounds the AFU - in particular, as to who organised and controlled it, and what its aims were. It is often suggested that is was used as an instrument by the top army commanders to control their potentially rebellious subordinates, rather than the other way round (see, e.g, AHMAD 1977, 168-9). Certainly, the top commanders attempted to take over the AFU in the spring of 1961. On 25 August the commanders ordered the members of the AFU to swear an oath of loyalty to the regime. However, the available evidence suggests that this campaign was quite unsuccessful. According to the account given by leading members of the organisation, notably Faruk Giiventurk and Talat Aydemir, the organisation had been set up quite separately by them during December 1960 - April 1961, and was opposed by the top commanders (AYDEMIR 1968, 90-1; interview with Giiventurk in ILICAK [1975], p. 195). During the summer of 1961, the 'General Council' of the AFU held regular meetings in Istanbul and Ankara, and their recommendations were conveyed to Cevdet Sunay, the Chief of the General Staff, by Talat Aydemir. Most notably, Aydemir and other members of the AFU were, by his account, prime movers of the 21 October Protocol (see below) which specifically demanded the reconstruction of the junta and the annulment of the election results -a direct challenge to the central part of the NUC's strategy at that time (AYDEMIR 1968, 104-8). For further d e t a i l s , s e e HALE ( 1 9 9 4 ) , p p . 1 3 9 - 4 6 .

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Unfortunately, it took some time for this new spirit to take root in the armed forces. Among the officers who had been attached to the AFU, and had been involved in conspirational activities since the 1950s, there was a widespread reluctance to accept the outcome of October 1961, and seemingly constant plotting for another takeover. The main change from the situation of 1960, however, was that Cevdet Sunay, as Chief of the General Staff, was firmly against another coup, and managed to preserve enough authority within the army to prevent such attempts from succeeding. These conflicts came out into the open on 22 February 1962 when a group of officers led by Colonel Talat Aydemir launched an illprepared putsch. Their attempt came closer to success than was generally admitted later, since they controlled most of the troops in Ankara, and at one time held President Giirsel, Prime Minister inonii and Sunay himself as virtual prisoners in the presidential mansion. However, they failed to exploit their advantage, as Sunay, Giirsel and inonii were allowed to escape, and rallied loyal troops as well as the Air Force from outside the capital. On a promise from inonii that no legal action would be taken against them, the rebels surrendered on the morning of 23 February, and the attempted coup collapsed (SEYHAN 1966, 75-98; AYDEMiR 1968, 122-42; ILICAK 1975, 290-92). Unfortunately, Aydemir failed to draw the obvious lesson from this experience, and attempted to launch another putsch on the night of 20-21 May 1963. After a bizarre and confused struggle, in which the Ankara radio station changed hands three times, Aydemir was again forced to surrender, and was placed on trial, along with all those who had joined the rebellion. Following lengthy proceedings, Aydemir and his supporters were convicted of attempting to overthrow the constitution and the republic: he and his main collaborator, Major Fethi Giircan, were executed in June-July 1964 (AYDEMIR 1968, 246-62, 337-59; TURGUT 1995, 349-65; WEIKER 1963).14 The failure of Aydemir's two attempted coups, and Demirel's election victory in 1965, opened up a period of relative stability in Turkish politics, which lasted until 1971. The new premier worked out a modus vivendi, if not an actual alliance, with the armed forces chief. In this accommodation, the National Security Council, which had been established under the 1961 constitution to advise the government on security questions, and which included the Chief of the General Staff and the four force commanders together with the president, prime minister and other ministers, played an important role — mainly because it allowed the generals to act as a powerful pressure group within the machinery of government, without having to engage in coups or threats of coups. When Cemal Giirsel was forced to retire from the presidency through illness in March 1966, Cevdet Sunay was duly elected to succeed him, thus confirming another place in the power structure for the military (Giirsel died in September 1966). Demirel increased his parliamentary majority in the next elections, held in October 1969, but soon afterwards his political edifice began to fall apart. In January 1970 a group of defectors from the AP, led by Necmettin Erbakan, formed 14

The 14 radicals who had been expelled from the NUC in November 1960 returned to Turkey in early 1963. Turkey and two of his supporters, Diindar Seyhan and Muzaffer Ozdag, were placed on trial along with Aydemir, but were acquitted.

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the National Order Party (Milli Nizam Partisi) which made an open bid for conservative Muslim support, against Demirel. One month later, another group of dissidents, headed by Ferruh Bozbeyli and Sadettin Bilgi?, voted against the government's budget, and later formed a separate Democratic Party (Demokratik Parti). Further competition was provided by Alparslan Turkey, who entered civilian politics in 1965 when he took over the leadership of the near-defunct Republican Peasant's Nation Party, and reestablished it in 1969 as the Nationalist Action Party (MHP). Henceforward, Turkey's party became the standard bearer of ultra-nationalism in Turkey. Meanwhile, the government's grip on power was further weakened by the emergence of urban guerrilla groups of both the extreme left and extreme right. These hostile gangs provoked a spate of violent clashes, robberies and kidnappings which severely undermined law and order as well as the Demirel government's authority (AHMAD 1977, 232-48; LANDAU 1974, 122-232; HARRIS 1980,28-33).

The exact circumstances which then led to the second military intervention of 12 March 1971 and the overthrow of the Demirel government, are confused and hotly disputed by those involved. It appears that the top commanders of the armed forces were effectively divided into two groups: as in 1960 they could be broadly classified as 'conservative' and 'radical'. For the first group, the aim of any intervention would simply be to restore law and order by instituting martial law and making restrictive changes to the constitution, whereas the radicals favoured the implementation of a more far-reaching agenda of social reforms of a quasisocialist flavour. Apparently, the conservatives were led by the Chief of the General Staff, General Memduh Tagma9 and the Commander of Land Forces, General Faruk Giirler. General Muhsin Batur, the Commander of the Air Force, was the rather uncertain leader of the radicals (uncertain in the sense that it was not clear how much support the radicals had in the armed forces, or what Batur's aims and motives were at this time). After tense negotiations, and rumours of a putsch by their subordinates if they failed to act, Tagma? and his three force commanders issued a 'memorandum' to President Sunay and the Parliament on 12 March 1971. This called for the establishment of a "strong and credible government which will neutralise the current anarchical situation and will implement the reformist laws envisaged by the Constitution", failing which the armed forced would take over direct administration of the state (AHMAD 1977, 288-9).15 Following the issue of the memorandum, Demirel rapidly backed down, and resigned with his cabinet. This was extremely lucky for the generals since, as Batur admits, they had made no plans for an outright takeover (BATUR 1985, 301). However, they still had to find a new premier who could establish a 'strong and credible government'. On 19 March their search ended with the appointment as prime minister of Nihat Erim, a veteran member of the CHP who now became an independent. Erim's government was supported in parliament by the AP and, more reluctantly, by the CHP. However, it was racked by conflicts between proponents of the reformist and conservative viewpoints. In practice, it was the latter who 15

Muhsin Batur's version of these events appears in his memoirs (1985, 173-299); an alternative version is g i v e n b y GURKAN (1986), pp. 4 1 - 3 7 4 . See also ILICAK (n.d.), pp. 11-169.

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carried the day. On 17 April, martial law was proclaimed in all the main cities, and arrests of thousands of people suspected of questionable activities took place — including many who had not engaged in violence. Cases of torture were frequently reported, and it was clear that the martial law commanders had taken over a large part of state authority from the government ( A H M A D 1 9 7 7 , 2 9 0 - 9 ; KogA§ 1 9 7 8 , 1 7 2 - 3 8 5 ; A L T U G 1 9 7 3 , 1 7 - 1 6 2 ) . Faced with these conflicts, as well as his own loss of authority, Erim resigned on 3 December. According to his memoirs, Batur then carried out a quick telephone poll of his generals at the main airbase at Eski§ehir, who supported an outright military takeover. However, Sunay and Tagma? refused to endorse this. Erim was thus forced to return to office with a reconstructed cabinet, but this only lasted until 17 April 1972. The baton was then passed to Ferit Melen, a member of the Reliance Party which had been established in 1967 as a right-wing offshoot of the CHP. Melen's government, which included four ministers from the CHP and eight from the Justice Party, was severely weakened in May 1972 when Biilent Ecevit unexpectedly captured the leadership of the CHP from the veteran inonii. Ecevit withdrew the CHP ministers from the Melen government in the following November. Melen soldiered on with the support of the Justice and Reliance parties, but his government then faced its greatest crisis when Cevdet Sunay's term as president expired in March 1 9 7 3 ( A H M A D 1 9 7 7 , 3 0 3 - 0 7 , 3 1 2 - 6 ; KogA§ 1 9 7 8 , 1 7 2 - 3 8 5 ; A L T U G 1 9 7 3 , 1 7 - 1 6 2 ; BATUR 1 9 8 5 , 3 4 3 - 5 6 ) . 1 6 Under the 1961 constitution, the president was restricted to one seven-year term, and was to be elected by a two-thirds majority in the first two ballots or, failing that, an absolute majority of all members of both houses of parliament in a third or subsequent ballots. After 1961, it was also assumed to be part of an unwritten pact between the armed forces and the political parties that the president should be a recently retired military commander (preferably, the outgoing Chief of the General Staff) and this formula had been applied when Sunay had succeeded Giirsel in 1966. Hence, in March 1973 a number of the top commanders — though not all of them — assumed that Faruk Gurler, who had taken over from Memduh Tagma? as Chief of the General Staff in August 1972, would duly be elected president by parliament. However, neither Demirel nor Ecevit saw why they should be dictated to the army in this matter, and strongly resisted Giirler's candidacy. Moreover, the army commanders were not united behind the idea of having Gurler elected. Eventually, Demirel and Ecevit agreed on the compromise choice of retired admiral Fahri Korutiirk, as presidential candidate. Koruturk was duly elected president on 6 April 1 9 7 3 , and the crisis was overcome ( N Y E 1 9 7 7 , 2 1 1 - 2 8 ; BATUR 1 9 8 5 , 3 7 5 - 4 3 9 ) . This outcome not only settled the immediate issue of who was to be come president. It also presaged the end of the ' 12 March regime', since it was clear that the armed forces were not prepared to launch another intervention to override the choice of the civilian political leaders. Accordingly, the Melen government resigned on 7 April, to be succeeded by what was intended to be a temporary caretaker administration under a former Governor of the Central Bank, Nairn Talu. This was to prepare the way for general elections on the constitutionally required date of 14 October 1973. 16

After this rather sad end to his long and historic career, inonii died in December 1973.

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Political collapse and the third military regime: 1973-1983 As a result of the confused contests of 1971-73, the conservative view among the generals became established as their norm - that is, that the army could intervene to protect the republic if it was seen as being in grave danger, but should not use its power to try to enforce some sort of radical or 'reformist' regime. Unfortunately, however, their intervention had failed to solve the main problems which had given rise to it. In the 1973 elections, no party won an overall majority. This result was repeated in the next elections, held in June 1977. Consequently, between 1974 and 1980, Turkey had no less than seven weak coalition governments — all but one headed by either Demirel or Ecevit — and long periods with no proper government enjoying a parliamentary majority. During the late 1970s, the country spiralled downwards into an intense political and economic crisis from which a succession of weak coalitions seemed unable to rescue it. By 1980, the failure of successive governments to bring public spending under control or implement effective exchange rate or export promotion policies had produced triple-digit inflation, a mounting balance of payments deficit and external debt, and the first absolute decline in national income for many years. Essential commodities simply disappeared from the shops, and citizens shivered in their homes for lack of heating oil. More serious still was a return to political violence between the extremists of left and right, which dwarfed anything seen in the late 1960s. Clashes between Sunnis and Alevis, and a variety of Kurdish separatist organisations on the one side and government forces on the other, added to the chaos and the general collapse of confidence in the regime. During the nine month between December 1978 and September 1979, the death toll attributed to political strife rose to 898, and to 2.812 during the following twelve month. In December 1978, martial law was proclaimed in which 109 people were killed and almost 200 were seriously injured, but this seemed to do little to stem the tide of violence.17 Given this background, what is surprising about the coup of 12 September 1980 is not that it happened, but that it took so long in coming. Admittedly, until 1978 the situation did not seem serious enough to justify another intervention, and the generals seem to have been sufficiently chastened by their experiences of 1971-73 to be reluctant to act unless they could convince themselves that this was unavoidable. General Kenan Evren, who became Chief of the General Staff in March 1978, was a cautious man who was anxious to avoid premature action and was aware that President Korutiirk would be unlikely to back a military takeover. Eventually, on 27 December 1979, the armed forces commanders restricted themselves to sending a warning letter to Korutiirk, which was broadcast to the nation on 2 January 1980. This called on the leaders of the parties to collaborate in restoring order, and was accompanied by a memorandum demanding new legislation and administrative measures to strengthen the hand of the martial law commanders. Unfortunately, Korutiirk, whose term of office was due to expire in 17

For more detailed accounts of these developments, see DODD (1983), pp. 17-48 and KARPAT (1981), pp. 7 - 9 , 1 6 - 4 3 .

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April 1980, failed to impress prime minister Demirel with the gravity of the situation, and he and Ecevit failed to agree to form a wall-to-wall coalition (EVREN 1990, vol. 1, 274-284, 296, 328-40, 476-7, 481-3; B l R A N D 1987, 39-42, 56-9, 84-8, 9-109, 150-60). Meanwhile, Evren and his colleagues were working out the operational details of a full military takeover, codenamed the 'Flag Plan'. When the seemingly inevitable military takeover eventually occurred on the morning of 12 September, there was almost universal relief that the long nightmare of social and political disintegration would now be ended ( B l R A N D 1987, 160-70, 184-6; E V R E N 1990, Vol. 1, 456-60, 522-3, 536-40). In some important respects, the aims of the coup of 1980 were not very different from those of 1960 and 1971, in the sense that the army's primary objective was to restore law and order, and to return to civilian rule after constitutional and other structural changes which, it was hoped, would prevent a return to crisis. The most significant difference was that Evren and his force commanders acted as a coordinated group, and there was never any serious fear of a counter-coup by their subordinates. Nor were the military rulers committed to the kind of wide-ranging economic or social reforms which had previously led to serious divisions, especially in 1971-73. Legislative powers were transferred to a National Security Council (NSC) consisting of Evren and the commanders of the land forces, air force, navy and gendarmerie, with General Haydar Saltik as Secretary-General.18 Demirel and Ecevit were taken into custody after the coup, but were then released, and the junta took care not to turn them into martyrs, as had happened in the case of Menderes. The existing political parties were not legally dissolved until October 1981. From the army's viewpoint, the government operated far more smoothly and effectively than its predecessors of 1960 or 1971. The regime's two most urgent tasks were to end the political violence and to put the economy back on the rails. On the first score, they achieved a more rapid and complete success than most observers had probably expected. Martial law commanders were given enhanced powers so that, according to official figures, the number of political killings in the year following 12 September fell to 282, or one tenth of that recorded during the previous twelve months. By the end of 1982, the scourage of political terrorism had been virtually ended. On the debit side of the balance sheet, however, normal civil liberties were severely restricted, and thousands of people who had not been responsible for acts of violence were arrested or arbitrarily dismissed from public employment {National Security Council 1982, 238 ff.; Human Rights in Turkey's Transition to Democracy, 1983, passim). In determining economic policy, the generals relied on civilian experts, notably Turgut Ozal, a former official of the World Bank who had served as chief economic adviser to the previous Demirel government, and now took over as deputy premier. To restore external balances, the currency was devalued rapidly,

18

A s previously noted, the Council had been established under the 1961 constitution, and included civilian members. A s such, it was known in Turkish as the Millî Guvenlik Kurulu. In 1980, the civilians were simply removed from the Council, and it was re-named as the Millî Guvenlik Konseyi: unfortunately, the difference does not come out in English translation. The original title and composition was returned to after 1983.

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and other measures taken to increase exports. Government spending was brought under control, and interest rates freed, so as to reduce inflationary pressures. The government suffered a serious setback in June-July 1982, when a fringe banking crisis led to Ozal's resignation, but it effectively continued his policies until the end of the military regime in November 1983. As a first step towards the restitution of civilian rule, a new constitution was prepared by a fifteen-man committee of specialists, before being submitted to a hand-picked Consultative Assembly and then the NSC. It was then submitted to a national referendum on 7 November 1982, and passed by a 92% majority. The 1982 constitution somewhat increased the powers of the president, and abolished the upper house, but essentially continued the tradition of a parliamentary rather than presidential republic. At the same time, the powers of the National Security Council were increased, as the government was now required "to give priority consideration" to its recommendations, in matters which the NSC "deems necessary for the preservation and existence of the state". Through the NSC, the armed forces thus retained substantial political powers within the future civilian regime, if they chose to exercise them.19 The most controversial provisions of the constitution were contained in Provisional Articles which were added to the main text by the junta. Under Provisional Article 1, Evren was deemed to have been elected as president for seven years, from the date that the constitution was accepted in the referendum, and no candidates were allowed to run against him. Similarly, under Provisional Article 4, all the leaders and senior office holders of the pre-1980 political parties were banned from running for election to any public office for the following ten years. In fact, it was in their treatment of the previous political parties and their leaders that the generals scored the least success, since Demirel, Ecevit, Erbakan and Tiirke§, to name the most prominent personalities, simply refused to bow out of politics. After the junta re-legalised political parties in April 1983, Demirel quickly established a proxy party, called the Great Turkey Party, led by Esener. A moderate party of the centre left, the Populist Party under Necdet Calp, also received official encouragement. Evren then tried to persuade Esener to merge his party with the Nationalist Democracy Party (MDP) under the leadership of retired General Turgut Sunalp: when Esener refused (presumably, at Demirel's bidding) the junta closed his party down by decree, and temporarily interned Demirel and the other party leaders. This did not prevent Demirel from establishing another proxy party, known as the True Path Party (DYP). Meanwhile, middle-ranking politicians from the former CHP established a successor, in the shape of the Social Democracy Party (SODEP): this was led by Erdal inonii — a respected professor of physics, but a man with no direct political experience. To add to the plethora of new parties, Turgut Ozal returned to the political stage in May 1983 by establishing the Motherland Party (ANAP) in what turned out to be a successful bid to capture the electoral terrain formerly held by the Justice Party (EVREN 1990, vol. 4, 134-7, 164-5, 175-6, 210-16; TURGUT 1986, 68-75, 205-86, 324-6, 479-80; CEMAL 1986a, 212; CEMAL 1986b, 160, 271, 283, 379, 412; McFADDEN 1985, 74-5). 19

1982 Constitution,

Article 118.

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By this stage, it was dear that the junta's plan to keep the old leaders out of politics was in serious trouble, and that they could only try to preserve it by crude legal measures. The date of the forthcoming general elections was announced as 6 November 1983. By vetoing founding members of both parties, so that neither was legally constituted in time to register for the polls, the junta prevented both the SODEP and the DYP from entering the race. Since the president seems to have decided that Ozal's party had little chance of winning, he fortunately failed to administer the same medicine to ANAP. During the election campaign, Evren tried to dissociate himself from any of the parties, but in a rash eve-of-poll broadcast on 4 November he issued thinly-veiled advice to the voters to support the MDP, and not to trust Ozal.20 In the event, the electorate signally failed to heed his suggestions. ANAP won a comfortable majority in the new parliament, with 45% of the vote, leaving Calp's Populist Party with 30.5% and Turgut Sunalp's MDP a poor third with 23%. The military regime was thus wound up on 6 December and Ozal installed as the new prime minister one week later. Undoubtedly, the junta had some solid achievements to its credit. It had restored law and order and the economy, and duly handed back power to an elected civilian government, as it had originally promised. At the same time, it had signally failed to reshape civilian politics according to its own agenda. Disengagement and crisis: 1983-1997 On his accession to the premiership in December 1983, Ozal's political position, and his relationship with the military, seemed to be somewhat ambiguous. On the one hand, his rise to power had clearly not been encouraged by Evren or the other generals. On the other hand, it had been aided by them indirectly, since the exclusion of the DYP from the 1983 elections had created a vacuum on the centreright which ANAP had rapidly been able to fill. This strengthened the cynicism of some observers like Biilent Ecevit, who had remarked at the time the 1982 constitution was issued that the government would merely be 'an army regime in mufti' or, at best, that there would be a division of power, with Ozal responsible for economic affairs, while the generals remained the decision-makers in security, defence and foreign policy.21 In the event, however, most of these suspicions became allayed during the 1980s. The military's disengagement from politics was a good deal smoother and more complete than it had been on earlier occasions (notably, after 1961) and Ozal was able to establish himself fairly quickly as a strong and popular premier. In line with the constitution, local elections were held in March 1984, in which ANAP came out a clear winner, with 41% of the vote, to be followed by SODEP with 23% and the DYP with 13.5%. This result was vitally important for Ozal, since it showed that his party could win even in a fair contest with the DYP, and thus removed the slur that he had only won in 1983 thanks to undemocratic restrictions imposed by the military. The abject failure of both the Populist Party and Turgut 20 21

The text of his broadcast appears in E V R E N (1990), vol. 4, pp. 393-399. For Ecevit's remarks, see C E M A L (1986b), p. 143. On the second point, see

HEPER

(1994), p. 26.

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Sunalp's MDP, which scored only 9% and 7% respectively, underlined the inability of parties originally supported by the military to garner more than a small share of the popular vote, and indicated that neither party would pass the minimum threshold of 10% which they would need to qualify for any seats in the next general elections. As a result, the Populists took the obvious way out, by merging with SODEP as the Social Democrat Populist Party (SHP) under Erdal inönü's leadership in 1984-85. The MDP simply disintegrated, and formally dissolved itself in 1986. By the mid-1980s, Provisional Article 4 of the 1982 Constitution had clearly become quite ineffective, since it had failed to prevent Demirel from forming his own proxy party, which could legally compete in elections. Before long, other pre1980 leaders followed his precedent. In 1985 Bülent Ecevit established a Democratic Left Party (DSP) with his wife Rah§an as nominal leader, which resolutely refused to merge with the SHP. Meanwhile, Necmettin Erbakan and Alparslan Turkey also set up their own proxy parties, known as the Welfare Party (Refah Partisi) and Nationalist Endeavour Party (Milliyetgi £ali§ma Partisi) respectively (Türkeis party later reverted to its earlier name of Nationalist Action Party, or MHP). However, it was realised that withdrawal of the bans would obviously mean the removal of an important part of the blueprint which the generals had tried to impose in 1982-83. It was not until June 1986 that Evren signalled clearly that he would be prepared to bow to the inevitable by accepting this change. Özal's position on this thorny issue was ambivalent, since he would obviously stand to lose if Demirel were allowed to return openly to the political stage: on the other hand, he could not be seen to be hiding behind the ban if he wished to retain his democratic credentials. Hence, after a vote in parliament, the issue was put to the test in a national referendum in September 1987, when the proposal was carried by the wafer-thin majority of 50.2% to 49.8%. Fortified with the knowledge that the pre-1980 leaders did not have overwhelming support, Özal called a snap general election for two months later. Thanks to changes in the electoral system designed to increase the share of the leading party, he increased his strength to 292 of the 450 assembly seats.22 The next potential test of the military's position in the post-1983 political system occurred in October 1989, when Kenan Evren's term as president expired. Fortunately, the story of 1973, when there had been an open contest between military and civilian forces, failed to repeat itself, since neither Evren nor the military chiefs pushed forward the idea that the president must necessarily be a retired military commander. As a result, Özal had himself smoothly elected as president. Similarly, although the NSC occasionally issued warnings to the government over Özal's concessions to conservative Islamic opinion, it did not appear to overstep the mark by making open declarations of policy on anything other than defence and security matters, as it was constitutionally entitled to do. A further sign of the times occurred after the general elections of October 1991, in which the Motherland Party, which had failed to sustain the economic successes which had helped carry it to victory in 1987, lost its majority. As a result, Demirel 22

F o r details, s e e FINKEL a n d H A L E ( 1 9 9 0 , 1 0 9 - 1 3 ) .

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formed a coalition government with Erdal Inonii's SHP: the two leaders who had both been officially excluded in 1983 had thus returned to power. This process was repeated in April 1993, when Ozal died of a heart attack, and Demirel was elected to succeed him in the presidential mansion. The man who had twice been unseated by the military had now come back to occupy the highest office of state. Nonetheless, by the middle of the 1990s, it was clear that the accommodation between the military and civil powers which had been established under Ozal was under severe strain, and that Turkey was still some way from applying the democratic norm that the generals should be the servants rather than the masters of the civilian politicians: in effect, Turkey was still at something of a half-way point between the two poles. The two primary reasons for this were the emergence of the struggle against the Kurdish insurgents of the PKK as one of Turkey's major internal problems, and the weakness of government after the beginning of 1995, combined with the accession to power of Necmettin Erbakan's Welfare Party in 1996. On the first score, the PKK's campaign had begun in 1984, but it was not until the 1990s that it began to assume really serious proportions. By 1995-96 it was estimated that there had been around 20.000 casualties in the south-east since the campaign had begun, and that anything between 300.000 and one million internal refugees had been forced to leave their homes, either through terrorism by the PKK, or because their villages had been evacuated and destroyed by the army. Around one third to one half of the Turkish army was reported to have been deployed in the south-east (MCDOWALL 1996, 438; POPE and POPE 1997, 259). In

1987 martial law, which had been in force since before the 1980 coup, was finally withdrawn from the south-eastern provinces. However, it was replaced by a state of emergency regime (olaganiistu hal in Turkish) which gave the security forces special powers in the region, and was regularly renewed by parliament at sixmonth intervals. In effect, the civil power ceded a large part of its authority to the military over a large area of the country. More problematic is the question as to whether military hardliners prevented a peaceful solution of the Kurdish problem. Although the NSC naturally urged the renewal of the State of Emergency each time the issue came up, it seems likely that the failure of the politicians to act was probably due more to their own concern not to be seen to be giving way to terrorism, and public revulsion at the PKK's ruthless campaign, rather than objections by the military chiefs.23 An interesting sign of the opposite possibility emerged in the early part of 1997, as it appeared that the military was at last reestablishing state control over most of the southeast. At a meeting of the AmericanTurkish Council in Washington in February 1997, General £evik Bir, the Deputy Chief of the General Staff, was reported to have said that the army had done its job of defeating terrorism in the southeast, and that it was now the turn of other bodies — government, civil society and the private sector — to rebuild the region. Similar

23

Witness, for instance, the closure of the pro-Kurdish Democracy Party (DEP) by the (filler government in 1994, or the failure to react to the PKK's brief cease-fire in 1993: see MCDOWALL ( 1 9 9 6 ) , pp. 4 3 6 - 7 , and ROBINS ( 1 9 9 3 ) , pp. 6 6 8 - 7 0 .

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messages were repeated at later military briefings, though it was very uncertain whether the civilian politicians would pick up the baton.24 The more open and crucial conflict between the military chiefs and civilian government only emerged after the formation of the coalition between the Welfare Party and the DYP (now led by Tansu (filler) in June 1996, known as the 'RefahyoV government. Apparently, the military ranked Islamic radicalism as an even more serious threat to the Kemalist state than the PKK.2S Initially, the Erbakan-led government appeared to be making significant concessions to the military, as well to other pro-western sections of opinion, especially in matters of foreign policy. Although his visits to Iran and Libya aroused serious misgivings in secularist circles, he gave way to the secular establishment on some crucial policy points. In spite of his previous declarations, his government did not attempt to abandon or even re-negotiate Turkey's customs union agreement with the EU and defence agreement with Israel, and duly renewed the mandate for 'Operation Provide Comfort' the Western military presence, based in Turkey, which was designed to protect the Kurds in Northern Iraq (see ROBINS 1 9 9 7 , 8 3 - 7 , 9 0 - 3 ) . All these, and especially the last two, were points on which the military was likely to have put substantial pressure on his government. The conflict between the government and the military came out into the open on 2 February 1997, when the Welfare Party mayor of Sincan, an outer suburb of Ankara organised 'Jerusalem Night' celebrations, at which the Iranian ambassador, Muhammad Reza Bagheri, proclaimed that "the young (...) will render Allah's punishment onto those who have signed accords with the US and Israel", and calls for jihad were issued from the platform. In response, on 4 February, the army rolled its tanks down the main street of Sincan during the morning rush hour. The claim by the General Staff that this was "just a normal training activity" was very hard to believe, since it was fairly clear that the military demonstration was intended as a warning to the government, and Erbakan in particular. At a meeting of the NSC on 28 February, the military chiefs raised the heat by issuing a long list of 'recommendations' to the Prime Minister, calling among other things for legal measures to ban fundamentalist propaganda and strict adherence to the secularist provisions of the constitution. On a much contested point, the NSC also demanded the implementation of long-proposed legislation for the increase of the compulsory period of primary education from five to eight years, and a limitation of the number of clerical Schools for Imams and Preachers provided by the state.26

24 25

26

Briefing (Ankara, weekly) 10 March 1997, p. 9, 5 May 1997, p. 6. According to a statement by General Kenan Deniz, Chief of the General Staff Domestic Security Department: Briefing, 5 May 1997, p. 5. In principle, the Welfare Party did not oppose extending the period of compulsory education, but insisted on the continuation of the then-existing system, providing for separate clerical junior high schools (ortaokullar). The alternative proposal, supported by the Motherland Party and the centreleft parties, called for the extension of the existing non-clerical State primary schools to cover the first eight years of education, and the gradual dissolution of all junior high schools. A law incorporating the latter strategy was enacted under the following Yilmaz government in August 1997.

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Officially, Erbakan accepted these recommendations, but did very little to implement them. Nonetheless, the military continued to insist on them at subsequent NSC meetings.27 It was against this background that the Refahyol government collapsed in June 1997. On 18 June Erbakan resigned, expecting to reconstruct the government by incorporating the tiny ultra-rightist Great Unity Party and to hand over the premiership to Tansu (filler. However, President Demirel then passed on the office to the ANAP leader, Mesut Yilmaz. This provoked large-scale defections from the DYP to the Democratic Turkey Party (DTP) led by Hiisamettin Cindoruk. Yilmaz announced his cabinet — a coalition of ANAP, the DSP and DTP, with outside support from the revived CHP under Deniz Baykal - on 30 June. As yet, it is very difficult to establish the exact role of the military in producing this result. Admittedly, the repeated warnings by the NSC may well have played a role in weakening the loyalty of DYP backbenchers to Refahyol, and (filler in particular. However, this was only part of the story, since although there were some rather vague and veiled threats of a coup, it was clear throughout the crisis that the army was very reluctant to take this step, or even issue a 'memorandum' on the 1971 model. As General Bir put it: "it's not our job to run the country, neither is it our intention". Whatever their hostility to Refahyol, all the opposition leaders had been strongly against such a move, and had carefully refrained from openly backing the NSC's 'recommendations'.28 Hence, the outcome must have provoked heartfelt sighs of relief from both the generals and the secularist political leaders. Essentially, the Refahyol government collapsed because Erbakan and (filler had badly miscalculated in assuming that their reconstructed coalition could win majority support in parliament, not because of intervention by the military. In fact, the NSC would probably have not acted openly, and in the way it did, if it had not known that it almost certainly had the support of a majority of public opinion. This was evidenced by the widespread popular protests against the government during February 1997 — caused partly by hostility to the government's Islamist agenda, and partly by the serious corruption allegations levelled against (filler and her colleagues. Both employers' organisations and trades unions, besides most of the press and TV, had shown a rare degree of unanimity in denouncing the Refahyol coalition.29 In effect, besides being an organ of the state, the army had also acted as a political pressure group in the more normal sense, by representing the views of an emerging civil society. Conclusions and reflections In commenting on the installation of the Yilmaz coalition on 30 June 1997, the Milliyet columnist Ali Sirmen probably reflected a large part of the republic mood when he suggested that "it is the job of the politicians, rather than the army, to see that the army stays out of politics", and that if the government flagrantly failed to 27 28 29

Briefing, 10 February 1997, pp. 1-4, 3 March 1997, p. 1, 10 March 1997, p. 4. Ibid., 14 April 1997, p. 8; 10 March 1997, p. 5. Ibid., 17 February 1997, pp. 1-4; 24 February 1997, pp. 6-7; 26 May 1997, p. 6.

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do its duty, it could not expect the soldiers to stand by with closed eyes.30 His remarks bore witness to the remarkable degree of support which the army still enjoyed in Turkish political culture — in spite of its numerous mistakes and botched interventions — as well as the proposal that the armed forces' role in any political system is likely to vary inversely with the strength and effectiveness of its civilian political institutions. At the same time, experience suggested that although the Turkish public was ready to accept military intervention when there seemed to be no other way of saving the state from a political impasse, they were unlikely to conform to the army's preferences in normal times. The point had been made quite clearly after 1960-61, when the Justice Party rapidly emerged as the successor to the deposed Democrats, and again during the mid-1980s, when the generals' attempt to mould the party system according to their own plans dismally failed. As Biilend Ulusu, the ex-Admiral who served as Prime Minister under the junta after 12 September 1980 reportedly told Evren in 1983, "when things go wrong, the nation calls in the army, but after that it says, 'your job is over - go home'" (quoted in C E M A L 1986b, 482). A crucial question is why the Turkish army restricted itself to a "guardian" rather than 'ruler' role,31 and voluntarily handed back power to the civilians on no less than three occasions, unlike their counterparts in many other countries. In this context, Christopher C L A P H A M and George P H I L I P , writing from a general perspective, suggest that the frequency and scope of military regimes will be limited by three variables — that is, the unity of the military command structure, the differentiation of the military from civilian society (in other words, its ability to hold itself aloof from conflicts in society at large) and the strength and autonomy of civilian political institutions ( C L A P H A M and P H I L I P 1985, 5-8). All these conditions seem to fit the Turkish case remarkably closely. On the last score, it appears that civilian structures were not strong or effective enough to entirely prevent or evade the need for periodic military interventions, but that they were more viable than their counterparts in many other societies. They were also able to reach accommodations with the military after civilian government was restored — as, for instance, Demirel did after 1965, or Ozal after 1983. On the first score, the emphasis on preserving the chain of command was a striking feature of the military rulers' political pronouncements, especially in 1980-83, even though it had come under severe stress on earlier occasions. The size and complexity of the Turkish armed forces, compared with those of most third world states, also made it far more 30 31

Ali StRMEN, "Diinyada Bugiin," Milliyet, 30 June 1997. The typology used here is that proposed by ERIC NORDLINGER. This distinguishes between 'guardian' military regimes, which take over direct political power, but do not intend to exercise it indefinitely, and 'ruler' regimes, which aim for long-term political power. 'Guardian' regimes are moderately conservative, in that they seek to preserve the social, economic and broad political status quo, and to return power to civilian politicians after 'sorting out the mess' left by previous civilian governments. 'Ruler' regimes, on the other hand, have far more ambitious aims, attempting to effect lasting changes in the distribution of political power, and fundamental social and economic re-structuring of their societies (NORDLINGER 1977, 22-7). Examples of 'ruler' regimes are those of Pinochet in Chile (cited by NORDLINGER) or Gemal Abdul Nasser in Egypt, or the Ba'thist regimes in Syria. The present writer has explored these comparative themes more fully in HALE (1994), chapter 12. The conditions which determine which type is adopted are discussed by CLAPHAM and PHILIP (1985).

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difficult for their subordinates to launch independent interventions.32 Lastly, several observers have noted the high degree to which the Turkish officers regard themselves as a group separated from — if not superior to — the rest of society. This is a notable feature of the system of military education, in which cadets are lifted from their families, often at a relatively tender age, and firmly acculturated into a tradition of discipline, hierarchy, and mission (BlRAND 1991, 11-51, 97109). A final factor, which is only occasionally referred to by the military themselves, is the effect of Turkey's foreign alignments and alliances on the army's political actions and perceptions. The classic Marxist or neo-Marxist thesis argues that in third world states, armies are controlled by the capitalist powers, who use them as an instrument of domination over the peripheral states. This proposal does not seem realistic in the Turkish case, since it appears that all three interventions - in 1960, 1971 and 1980 — stemmed almost entirely from the army's independent actions, and its perceptions of the domestic political situation. There is no sign that the United States government knew of the 1960 coup in advance, or that it did anything to encourage it - rather the reverse. It may have had an advance inkling of the military action of 1971, and certainly did in 1980, but appears that Turkey's membership of NATO, and the need to preserve it, actually had the reverse effect of limiting the military role, and encouraging an early return to civilian government. This was particularly so by the 1980s, when international pressure for the upholding of democratic liberal values was far stronger than it had been in the 1960s.33 Equally, Turkey's western allies must have been highly relieved by the outcome of the crisis of 1997 — not just because an Islamist-oriented government had lost power, but also because this had been achieved through democratic and constitutional means. These observations confirm the general conclusion that Turkey's political development has primarily been determined by its domestic situation and experiences, and that external influence has almost certainly been a brake, rather than an encouragement, to military intervention in politics.

32 33

For a fuller explanation of this point, see HALE (1994), p. 322. F o r d e t a i l s , s e e W E K E R ( 1 9 6 3 ) , p p . 1 3 , 1 6 0 ; EVREN ( 1 9 9 0 ) , v o l . 2 , p p . 9 2 - 3 ; SPAIN ( 1 9 8 4 ) , p p . 2 1 , 24, 233-6.

From parliamentary uni-partyism to fragmented multi-partyism: The Odyssey of political regimes in the Turkish Republic ERSÏN KALAYCIOÔLU

Introduction The empires of the world failed to mix well with the world wars. Being one of the most vulnerable among them, the Ottomans crumbled and fell under the challenges of World War I and the ensuing War of Independence waged by the Turkish nationalists between 1919-1922. Six centuries after its initial establishment the Ottoman Empire was declared null and void by a resolution of the Grand National Assembly (GNA) at Ankara, (the capital of the Turkish Republic to be), in 1922. During the same year the nationalists won the War of Independence and successfully negotiated a peace treaty with their adversaries in Lausanne, Switzerland the following year. They were thus able to repeal the humiliating conditions of the Treaty of Sèvres, which the Ottomans had to accept at the end of World War I. On October 29th, 1923 the nationalists, consolidating their power at home, and having gained recognition abroad took the last expected step and declared a republican system of government. Hence, the Turkish Republic was established. At inception the republican régime had certain birth marks. It was born out of a lengthy process of war of national independence, which also incorporated the dislocation of an empire, severance of all ties with the traditional sources of power and legitimacy, and a break with the previously established links of cultural solidarity with the Arab Middle East, the Balkan populations, and with dreams concerning the Transcaucasus and Central Asian Turkic peoples. The republican system was possible only to the extent that all claims of legitimacy and solidarity of the ancien regime (the Empire) could be disclaimed. Although the republican population of the Turkish state happened to be mostly Sunni Muslims speaking Turkish, all ties with other Sunni Muslims to the South and East had been rendered irrelevant during the military campaigns of World War I. The Arabs had experienced their own national awakening during that war, and the Ottoman army encountered a bitter defeat at the hands of a British and the Arab nationalist coalition of forces. The memories of World War I left no room for a yearning to recreate the Ottoman Empire on the pillars of Islamic solidarity in the minds and hearts of the Turks, who had served in the ranks of the Ottoman army in the Middle East. The religious solidarity of the Turks and the Arabs lost its appeal when the Ottoman Sultan and Caliph called for holy war (jihad) against the British during World War I. The Sunni Arabs not only failed to heed the call, but also conspired with the British and fought a devastating military campaign against the Caliph's army (YAPP 1987, 300). The Caliphate had lost all of its vital essence as of then. It was the nationalisms of the Muslim populations of the Ottoman Empire that delivered the final blow to that state and its institutions. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the

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Sunni population of Anatolia its religious esteem and political clout lingered on for a while. Failing to comprehend what had actually transpired in the Middle East during World War /, the title of 'Caliph' was still employed by the Ottoman Sultan Vahdettin in issuing various religious decrees (fetva) to declare the nationalist resistance to the invasion forces as illegitimate (SELEK 1965, 66-72). The Sultan had fully accepted the terms of the Treaty of Sevres, and believed that attempting to reverse those terms was a vain concern that would only lead to a futile loss of lives (TURAN 1969, 57). Thus, he colluded with the invasion forces and worked to undermine the nationalist forces during the War of Independence. However, the Caliph Vahdettin had to flee when the nationalist victory became certain. At the end of the War of Independence the Caliphate had emerged as the most powerful symbol of reactionary opposition to the nationalists and their republican aspirations. In the meantime, the nationalists had consolidated their power to dislodge their domestic adversaries, including the most formidable of them, the Caliphate. When the Turkish Grand National Assembly (TGNA) abolished the Caliphate in 1924, the latter had already been reduced to a state of relative political weakness in Turkey, and a position of irrelevance in the Muslim world. What the Turkish nationalists in the TGNA decided to do in 1924 was to carry out a burial ceremony for an institution that had already lost all of its vitality. The Republic had little reason to utilize religious symbolism for its political legitimacy. In fact, the Caliphate wielded Sunni Islamic sentiments to quash the nationalist struggle against the invasion forces. The religious establishment of the Ottoman Empire headed by the Caliph and the Sultan emerged as a formidable opponent of the nationalist resistance to the terms of Treaty of Sevres, and to the nationalist struggle. Consequently, the nationalists had to struggle with the monarchist and traditionalist Sunni Muslims, as well as the Greeks, Armenians, and their French and British supporters. Hence, the traditional institutions of the religious establishment were perceived by the nationalist elite as potential launching pads of rebellious activism against the nationalists and eventually the young Republic. The uprisings of some Kurdish tribes in the south-east one year after the Caliphate was abolished employed the same religious rhetoric against the new republican regime that had been used in the previous uprisings during the War of Independence. That development provided further evidence of what the nationalist elite feared most: that religious activism motivated by the tradition — bound relics of the Ottoman religious clergy would continue to be the most severe threat that the system would encounter (LEWIS 1961, 256-266). The Republican system found itself pitted against the Sunni Islamic tradition from the very beginning of its establishment. Therefore, the international appeal of Islam was combated by the nationalist creed of the new ruling elite. When faced with the political activism of the Sunni zealots, the nationalists grew adamant about limiting the influence of religion in Turkish society, and allowing none in the Turkish polity. In the meantime, the core of the new basis of legitimate political rule became the 'national will'. The Republican system experienced or even

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experimented with different political regimes, in establishing a style of rule that married the will of the nation with to effective rule of the country. Parliament as the State During the War of Independence the nationalist elite, under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatiirk, faced not only the difficult problem of legitimizing their actions, but also the arduous task of establishing the structure of a new political system. The Rousseauist interpretation of the national will as the basis of political action helped them out in both regards (SELEK 1965, 301). Atatiirk argued that under very special circumstances a National Assembly that represented the unity of the nation and reflected the national will was not only expedient, but it was also sanctioned by Islamic principles (SELEK 1965, 301). Therefore, the political legitimacy of the government emanated from its claim to represent the 'will' of the collectivity that comprised the 'nation'. Parliament was then the only structure that could make a plausible claim to represent the nation; all political legitimacy emanated from the national assembly, which did not share it with any other institution, person, or system. It was a small step from there to declaring the national assembly as the sole basis or fount of all governmental structure. In the words of Atatiirk the National Assembly was no legislative body that solely deliberated political issues, controlled an irresponsible head of state, and made laws, but it would be involved in determining the very future and existence of the nation (OZBUDUN 1992, 5). The executive and judicial branches of government could only claim to have legitimacy to the extent that the parliament was willing to authorize them to act in lieu of the 'nation' (OZBUDUN 1992, 6-8). Hence, the executive and judiciary branches existed by virtue of being designated as the 'committees' of the Grand National Assembly charged with the tasks of policy execution and adjudication (SOYSAL 1968, 119). Consequently, the 1921 Constitution provided a model of government that depended upon the 'unison of powers' throughout the War of Independence. The 1921 Constitution and the very special regime that it engendered lasted until the end of the War of Independence. In the aftermath of the Treaty of Lausanne, which extended international legitimacy to the Ankara Government, and with the establishment of the Republic on October 29, 1923 the nationalist leaders felt secure enough to consider 'normalizing' the political regime by drawing up a new constitution. However, the legacy or the 'spirit' of 1921 cast its shadow on the 1924 Constitution as well. Separation of powers and the Single Party rule According to the 1924 Constitution, the supremacy of the GNA was not tantamount to its full correspondence with the 'State'. The GNA was still designated as the only organ of the state that legitimately exercised the sovereign right to rule the nation; however, the other branches of government were also established through the constitution as having their proper and legitimate domains or estates of

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authority (SOYSAL 1968, 129). Hence, the political regime of the early Republican period was designed as a form of government that assumed separation of powers across its legislative, executive, and judicial branches; and in theory, the legislative branch enjoyed supremacy over the others. In a sense, what the 1924 Constitution insinuated was a form of 'Westminster model' of democratic government.1 However, without a multiplicity of legally established and freely operating political parties, it is impossible to refer to the political regime of 1924-1946 as a democracy. Nevertheless, the inspiration for the establishment of the new regime seems to have come from the 'Westminster model'. It also makes sense to argue that the national elite in the mid-1920s aspired to a 'Westminster model of democracy'. However, the first attempt to develop a party system seems to have rendered the idea of a democratic system unattractive. The Republican People's Party (RPP) had been organized during summer 1923, that is, even before the establishment of the republican regime by October 1923. It was formed with the participation of those who had comprised the parliamentary group (known as the First Group), which vehemently supported Mustafa Kemal Atatürk's leadership and ideas throughout the War of Independence in the TGNA (SELEK op. cit., 265). A multi-party system was also established with the founding of the Progressive Republican Party (PRP) as early as November 1924 (SOYSAL 1968, 135-136; ZÜRCHER 1991, 57). The RPP had started to de-

velop a centrist, nationalist, economically liberal, and non-religious (non-Islamic) program. Its secularizing tendencies had become evident in such acts of the TGNA as promulgating the Civil Code and the Unity of Education Act (BERKES 1964, 467-73; SOYSAL 1968, 126-127; ÖZBUDUN 1984, 25-26). The Swiss Civil Code was especially imported from its Swiss counterpart with the major intention of getting rid of the remnants of the Sharia (Islamic) law on Turkish soil (DAVISON 1998, 163-73, 197-203). The RPP stood for the primacy of the 'State', and ruled in cooperation with a highly centralized public bureaucracy, which was tightly controlled by the central/ national political elite and well insulated against the influences of the peripheral/ local forces (MARDIN 1975, 22-23). However, the overall inclination of the RPP was nationalist only to the extent that the welfare of the population living in the Turkish national homeland as defined in the National Pact of 1919, (which was more or less legally accepted by the other states in the Treaty of Lausanne of 1923), was promoted in the policies of the state. The RPP's national ambitions had to take the realities of the 1920s into consideration. Turkey was a new member to the state system of the world, and she had all of a sudden become neighbors with the most powerful states of the time, such as Britain through her mandate in Iraq, France via her mandate in Syria, Italy in the Dodecanese Islands in the Aegean Sea, and the Soviet Union in the east. Although the RPP eventually became etatist in managing the Turkish economy, its initial policy preferences were based on accepting the free market, and the liberal capitalist practices of the 1920s. How' I employ the term 'Westminster model of democracy' along the lines suggested by Arend Lijphart (1984), pp. 1-20.

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ever, the republican elite had the same fear and suspicion of the forces of the 'periphery' that they had inherited during their political socialization experiences in the Ottoman culture. Local politics and the peripheral social groupings, institutions and forces were considered as a potential threat to the well-being of the new collectivity. They were also considered as the basis for exploitation of the masses by the enemies of the new regime, including the powerful new neighbors of Turkey (MARDiN op. cit., 23-25). When the Kurdish tribes of some provinces of Southeastern Anatolia rose up in the name of Islam, the republican elite perceived that as a demonstration of the main opposition party's shortcomings as well (KiRi§£i - WlNROW 1997, 105; ÖZ 1992, 94-95). The PRP was promoting the ideas of decentralization, upholding traditions, and more emphasis on political liberties (ZÜRCHER 1991, 95-109). Although, the PRP's program and written declarations do not seem to veer any further, their overall impression seemed to have insinuated a conservatism blinking on monarchism and resuscitation of the status of Islam.2 It was also getting some popular support in the country, especially from those whose interests or worldviews were undermined by the policies of the RPP government. It was under those circumstances that the PRP was banned, as the government started a military campaign against the Kurdish tribes in the Southeast. The republican elite considered the meager resources of the war-weary country as being too scant to build democracy, while simultaneously constructing a modern and well-integrated modern nation-state. The republican elite shifted their emphasis to modernization through a modernizing cultural revolution and the integration of the newly established national territory (TUN£AY 1981, 27-126). Democratization had to be put off for a while. Nevertheless, another attempt to experiment with multi-partyism occurred in 1930. However, that trial also turned out to be in vain (TUN^AY 1981, 245-282). Hence, the Turkish Republic experienced a pragmatic form of onepartyism for two decades after 1925. The one-party system of 1925-1945 took root at a time when democracy was going through a serious crisis. Continental Europe witnessed the collapse of one democracy after another. Italy and Germany joined the club of totalitarian regimes soon after Tsarist Russia turned to Marxism-Leninism. Squeezed between the totalitarian Soviet Union, which helped the nationalist elite during the War of Independence, and England and France, which viewed Turkey pretty much along the lines that they had viewed the Ottoman Empire, the republican regime had to trek a very careful line of status quoism in its international relations (GÖNLÜBOL et al. 1974, 63-156, - ALANTAR 1994, 49-78). Atatürk and the republican elite tried to consolidate the Turkish territory by efficiently suppressing any anti-system uprising with a potential of secessionist pressures, and quickly settling Turkish border disputes, such as those issues of Mosul, Iraq with the British, ethnic minorities with Greece, and the Aegean islands with Mussolini's Italy (GÖNLÜBOL op. cit., 63-156). By the early 1930s the young Republic had neutralized potentially grave threats emanating from territorial disputes and irredentism. However, playing 2

There is some debate about the nature of this party. For a more extensive treatment of the topic see ZÜRCHER (1991), pp. 52-117.

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'hardball' with the powerhouses of the interwar period required tight control at home. Consequently, a pragmatic uniparty system emerged in Turkey. A compact elite group congregated around the President of the country. The President and the leader of the RPP, Kemal Atatiirk formed the core of the 'center of the polity' that ruled Turkey until his death in 1938. He was succeeded by his long-time associate and the former prime minister ismet inonii from 1938 to 1950. Supported by the educated few, and drawing upon the charisma of being the hero of the Liberation War, Mustafa Kemal Atatiirk and the political elite of the Republic were able to carry out a series of far-reaching cultural reforms. They spanned a vast expanse from family life and personal legal status as regulated by the civil code to the secularization of political culture, political rights for women, and a drastic change of the alphabet from the Arabic to the Latin script. Once the religious institutions of the Ottoman establishment were eliminated, the cultural revolution met little resistance, and was welcomed as a sign of progress by the urban upper and middle classes. The peasant majority was left pretty much untouched by the changes until the 1950s (TURAN 1969, 71-120). The political culture of the country showed a simple divide between a culturally coherent center, (occupied by the secularly educated, European oriented, nationalist, laicist, and revolutionary veterans of the War of Independence), and the incoherent, disorganized, parochial, religious, and conservative/traditional masses and the local notables of the periphery. The center of the 1920s through the 1940s was comprised of a political elite who shared a common vision, a common political socialization pattern, and a common goal. They were those who occupied the top executive positions, such as the cabinet posts, deputyship of the TGNA, positions in the top ranks of the judiciary, and the rest of the offices of the public bureaucracy, (comprising both the civil and the military bureaucracy). There was hardly any doubt about who ruled, and who should rule (MARDiN 1975, 25-27; TUN?AY 1981, 304-322). The republican elite also implemented a policy of local control that had been used by their Ottoman predecessors for long periods of time. The local notables were mostly co-opted by the center into some local and national political institutions, such as the RPP or the TGNA, whenever they were willing to cooperate. Influence at local and national levels seemed to have worked in both directions. The RPP and its parallel associations — such as the People's Houses — were wielded to distribute the propaganda, and promote the policies of the center. Likewise, they were also utilized by the local notables to communicate their wishes, demands, and pleas to the center. The local notables seemed to continue to perform the pivotal roles that they had enjoyed in the Ottoman period. They went on representing the center in the periphery, and the periphery in the center. It seems that they also reaped economic benefits by playing the role of the local strongman. They were able to hold on to their local estates and businesses, and even improve their political and economic clout at the same time. In the eyes of the rural masses, they came to represent one-party rule along with the agents of the central bureaucracy, especially the gendarmarie (rural security forces) (MARDIN 1975, 26; Oz 1992, 148-155; TURAN 1969, 99-108).

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Elite coherence improved at the center as the 'cultural revolution' progressed, as those who could not keep up with the changing times dropped out and new members were recruited. The deputies of the TGNA, top level bureaucrats, Cabinet ministers showed signs of an overwhelming sense of compromise and cooperation over the political issues of the day and policies. A relatively large group of intellectuals also paid allegiance to the 'cultural revolution' of the 1920s and 1930s, extending the reach of the center even wider. Hence, the center became larger for awhile. Nevertheless, the RPP was influenced by international developments, and by changes in the international mood. The Italian and German fascisms were perceived as nationalist success stories by the younger RPP elite. Some of them, who were partly educated in Italy or Germany, or had a chance to observe the developments in those countries, started to toy with similar ideas at home. Under Recep Peker's general secretariat the RPP veered closer to an ultra-nationalist, and anticommunist position in the ideological spectrum for a while (Oz 1992, 221-229; TUN£AY 1981, 318-322). However, close ties with the Soviet Union, and an even greater need to chart a careful course with the French and British mandates to her south, meant that the Republic could not make major changes in foreign policy. Furthermore, the need to keep good relations with all those powers bordering Turkey as World War II approached played an even greater role in the minds of the policy makers. Besides, Turkey was also getting ready to accept Hatay (the sanjak of Alexendretta), which had been an autonomous region of the French mandate of Syria until 1939, when that region decided to unite with Turkey. Therefore, new and closer relations were to be established with the French government. The two countries, with the participation of Britain soon signed a treaty, which recalled the alliance between the two countries in 1939. Such developments prevented the younger RPP elite from establishing an outright fascist regime in Turkey in the late 1930s (GONLUBOL et al. 1974, 117-144). The international developments of the end of World War II exerted a severe pressure on the uniparty system. The Soviet Union no longer needed an ally to her southwest. There was Eastern Europe that the Soviets could count on and look after. The neutral Turkish Republic was no longer a strategic asset for the no longer isolated Soviet Union which had become a 'super power'. The famous Treaty of Nonaggression of 1921, signed by Lenin and Atatiirk was in effect for 25 years. In 1945 the Soviets signalled that they were not considering a renewal unless Turkey was willing to make great concessions, such as allowing the deployment of Red Army troops around the straits connecting the Black Sea to the Aegean. Turkey refused to consider such humiliating propositions, and started to look for allies in Western Europe to counter the Soviet threat. It was the Truman Doctrine of 1947 that alleviated the Soviet pressure on Turkey. Eventually, Turkey applied for membership in NATO and became a member in 1952 (GONLUBOL et al. 1974, 205-242).

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The road to democracy Coincidentally, the harsh economic conditions of World War II had undermined the Turkish economy. Domestic production fell as the international trade of the country was severely disrupted. The war was a period of scarcity and high inflation. The basic commodities could only be found in the black market, which sprouted in the 1940s and eventually grew into big business. The overall impact of such dire economic developments was the maldistribution of national income. Those who could invest in the black market made big profits, while the peasant majority of the population suffered in the face of rising prices and the scarcity of basic commodities. The RPP government decided to seek retribution by interrogating the newly acquired riches of the middle class. Coincidentally, most of those who had the resources to win big under the conditions of the war economy were members of the Levantine and non-Muslim minorities. They had been involved in trade for ages, and they had the capital and the know-how to play in the black market as well. Those Muslim Turks who had established associations with those minority interests, and the newly emerging Turkish entrepreneurs seemed to have gained by leaps and bounds as well. It looked as if the newly accumulated wealth of the older and newer business and commercial interests would be seriously threatened by the one-party regime. The newly rich started to organize and push for a rupture in the political system so as to give way to the development of plural multi-party politics. They searched for a political ally that could shield them off from the overpowering RPP. Under the international and national influences, the RPP elite considered a third attempt at establishing a multi-party system. What these changes signalled was that Turkey had to join the 'Club of Democracies' (KARA-iNCioGLU 1992, 69-86). There was hardly any resistance to the idea of establishing democracy in the RPP leadership. There was also not much effort and care for the democratization of the system. It seemed as if what the RPP leadership did was to go down the road of the previous two experiences. They felt that the 1924 Constitution provided enough fundamentals for a democratic regime to take root. Indeed, it contained the basic ingredients of a 'Westminster model of democracy'. Thus only minor steps were taken to establish a democratic regime in 1945-1946. The most important of those was a new electoral law, which enabled the voters to directly elect candidates to parliamentary seats for the first time in Republican history. The votes were to be converted to parliamentary seats according to a plurality formula. A compromise between the leaders of the two major parties over the contours of the democratic regime was reached. The terms of the compromise stipulated that all parties should stay away from exploiting the religious and ethnic feelings of the population to gain votes. None of those changes was really reached through any serious compromise and consideration of the parties involved (KARA-iNCiOGLU 1992, 74-80). Hence, they failed to be morally, politically, and legally binding. The major opposition party of the 1945-1950 period, the Democratic Party (DP) systematically criticized the unfairness of the plurality system of elections with large districts, and the lack of fairness of the RPP governments (KARPAT 1959,

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160-195). Both the RPP and the DP were easily tempted to exploit the religious sentiments of the conservative peasant masses for votes. The 1946 multi-party elections also played their dysfunctional role in the transition to democracy in Turkey. Those elections failed to be fair (KARPAT 1959, 159-160). There was room for misconduct in the rules of the game, and the accusations of the DP that the elections were rigged were favorably received by the electorate. Furthermore, the RPP had calculated that they would win the elections. They wanted to enjoy a large enough majority in the TGNA to comfortably rule the country. In a sense, the RPP elite were more at home with a hegemonic party system than establishing a full fledged multi-party system (KARA-lNCiOGLU 1992, 74-76). Therefore, they had adopted an electoral system that would deliver the most seats to the front runner in the national elections, which would be no other than the RPP. However, the outcome of the 1946 elections revealed a highly unfair result in the distribution of the parliamentary seats in comparison to the votes obtained by each party. The 1946 elections cast doubt on acceptance of the opposition as legitimate in the eyes of the government. The relations between the government and the opposition became strenuous and stressful as the new elections approached in the spring of 1950. The tone and style of such stressful relations between the RPP and the DP continued even after their political roles changed in the 1950s, and they contributed to the eventual breakdown of democracy by means of a military coup in 1960. The 'Westminster model' at work: predominant partyism of the 1950s The first serious experiment with democracy started out with the 'Westminster model of democracy' in Turkey (SOYSAL 1968, 139-141). The basic feature of the regime was an electoral system that ensured the procurement of a secure majority of the seats in the TGNA by a political party, and hence party government. In theory, the sole fount of political legitimacy continued to be the TGNA. The majority party group and its leadership in the TGNA controlled the Cabinet and through it the executive branch of the government as well. The prime minister emerged as the most important political actor, since he controlled both the legislative and the executive branches of the government. The president of the country was again elected by the TGNA. However, the President failed to enjoy any power to the extent that the former Presidents Atatiirk and inonii had exercised (KARPAT 1959, 209-10). Obviously the personality of the individual occupying the presidential position mattered. Celal Bayar, who succeeded Ismet Inonii, also possessed valuable credentials as a founder of the republican regime and the founder of the DP. His personal credentials weighed in the politics of the country heavily. However, it was the Prime Minister Adnan Menderes, who actually led the Cabinet and led both the executive and legislative branches of the government. The new political party in charge, the DP was a party that not only split from among the ranks of the RPP, but it was led by an elite group who had developed their political personalities within the ranks of the UPP and RPP. The DP propagated a liberal economic program that emphasized market forces over the

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etatist organization of the economy under the RPP rule since the 1930s. Otherwise, the DP trekked a highly tradition-bound line by emphasizing freedom of conscience, more say for Islam in the affairs of the society and the state, and increased use of Arabic in prayer and prayer calls (ezan). The DP also hinted that it stood for populism and patronage (SUNAR 1990, 745-757). The majoritarian style of rule of the 'Westminster model' assumes countervailing pressures by the opposition, pressure groups, and voters who are sensitive to rule of law, human rights and liberties, the infringement of which involve severe risks for the re-election of the governing party (LlJPHART 1984, 9-10). Otherwise, the majoritarian style of rule not only facilitates governability after each election, but leads to a 'dictatorship of the parliamentary majority'. Without any sensitivity concerning the rule of law, freedom of expression, and tolerance for opposition, the government fails to abide by a fair game of politics in a competitive environment. In Turkey, the lack of such sensitivities, an elaborate pressure group system, and the lack of middle class predominance in the political culture; when married with the electoral outcomes resulted in a socio-political milieu in which the civil basis of democracy was almost non-existent in the 1950s. Furthermore, the culture of Uni-partyism was predominant in the DP as well. Consequently, what Turkey had were two 'single parties' that competed in the elections with the style of single parties. The one that won in the elections of the 1950s happened to be the DP, and it ruled as if it were the new 'single party' of the country between the elections. The outcome of the above-mentioned setting was not a system of competition, but a 'no-holds-barred-war' (FREY 1975, 65-78). The stakes of the democratic game became very high, and it resembled a zero-sum game in which the winner had all the benefits and the loser lost every benefit the system could offer. The competition became a matter of life and death. The cost of losing in the elections became so high that the winning side, the DP, never wanted to let go, even when the popular support for it started to slip away in the late 1950s. In the meantime, the DP elite became so sure of their predominance in the system that they believed that they could not lose any election, since they catered to the interests of the peasantry and farmers, as well as the newly emerging middle class (SUNAR 1990, 751-753). Consequently, the DP controlled the legislature and the Cabinet in the name of the periphery. However, the DP leadership knew deep down that the public bureaucracy allied with the RPP. Therefore, they had to oust the former agents of the RPP and replace their 'men and women' and make the bureaucracy 'serve' the people. They had campaigned on terminating the rule of the bureaucracy, which had been mobilized by the RPP to carry out the cultural revolution (MARDiN 1975, 29-31). The peasantry was concerned over the weight of regulations or red tape, which the DP promised to get rid of. Consequently, the DP rule was laced with its fights against the public bureaucracy in the interest of the periphery. It obviously led to RPP reactions and accusations of partisanship in the DP's treatment of the public bureaucracy. The DP did manage to undermine the previous coalition of the center, but the cost was the start of a de-institutionalization process and the

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undermining of professionalism in the political institutions of the country (TACHAU 1984, 6 5 - 6 7 ) .

As a perfect patronage mechanism, the DP was able to make an imprint of the periphery on the center (SUNAR 1990, 753-754). However, it was not able to undermine the grip of the center on the political decision-making of the country. What it managed to do was to contribute to the re-emphasis of the great divide in the political culture of the country between those who espoused the values of the 'cultural revolution' of the 1920s and 1930s, and those who stood for the traditional, pre-1920s values and institutions of the land. Where this divide became most visible was in the area of culture and/or religion. The voters were roughly divided between those whose 'Image of Good Society' coincided with a secular, modern, and European oriented society and life style, and those whose 'Image of Good Society' consisted of a religious (Sunni Islam), traditional, conservative, Asian/Middle East oriented society and life style. The former were also joined by the Alevi minority, who felt deeply threatened by a social and political order dominated by the Sunni activists, who had been instrumental in discriminating and mistreating the Alevis. Although the Alevis themselves are quite traditional, they preferred to side with the secular modernizers, who seemed to be quite tolerant of them, as opposed to the Sunni hardliners, who in turn considered the Alevis as heretics and thus worthy of mistreatment and discrimination. Therefore, the cultural divide defined the political fault lines which determined the emergence of voting blocs along the secular — Sunni (orthodox Islam) and Alevi — Sunni cleavages. The RPP emerged as the party of the cultural modernizers (secularists) and folk Islam, and the DP symbolized the conservative Islamic orthodoxy (the Sunni activists) in Anatolia (¿ALAYCIOGLU 1990a, 104113). A second social cleavage that seemed to have developed was of an economic nature. The secularist modernizers were closely associated with the state and state economic enterprises, whereas their opponents were either established in the agricultural sector of the economy or were well entrenched in the budding private, industrial and services sectors of the economy. Therefore, the etatist and social welfare position of the RPP countered the laissez faire style liberal market orientation of the DP as well. In a sense, an etatist versus capitalist divide seemed to create another economic cleavage in the country, which seemed to have neatly divided the voters between RPP and DP supporters (SUNAR op. cit., 751). The overall picture of the voting blocs in Turkey failed to look very neat though. On the one hand was the RPP, which propagated state ownership of industry, economic austerity, and even stagnation, and thus, in economic terms was quite conservative. On the other hand was the DP, which stood for unregulated liberal market economy, free trade, and private ownership of industry, and thus, in economic terms, was growth oriented and progressive. However, the cultural positions of the two parties were diametrically reversed. The RPP stood for secular modernity and socio-cultural change, whereas the DP stood for religious conservatism and socio-cultural tradition.

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The first years of the DP government coincided with rapid economic growth. The increasing national pie resulted in increases in the purchasing power of the peasant majority, as well as the burgeoning industrial entrepreneurs. The good weather conditions of 1950-1953 resulted in a plenitude of agricultural produce. The economy boomed in the early 1950s (TURAN 1969, 125). The 1954 national elections resulted in another landslide of the DP. However, the economic fortunes of the country did not fare so well in 1954, and it went from bad to worse in 1955 as the world economy veered closer to a recession. The weather conditions also changed for the worse, and the harvest failed to provide the yield of earlier times. The rapid economic growth of the earlier years were followed by a period of stagnation. The free trade practices also led to the withering away of the foreign currency reserves, as the trade balance grew in the red (KEPENEK-YENTURK 1994, 110). The economic marvel was converted into an economic disaster. The DP had to move toward an austerity program. It called for early elections in 1957, and still won the election. However, this time only a plurality had voted for the DP. Furthermore, the RPP started to argue that there was blatant rigging in the polls. The parity of the Turkish lira to the US dollar slid from 2.80 to 5.25-5.5 in 1956 (KEPENEK-YENTURK 1994, 111-112). Galloping inflation followed that devaluation, which hit hard the salaried personnel both in the private and the public sectors of the economy. The disillusionment with the DP increased to new heights in 1959-60 as the government started to clamp down on the opposition and showed little tolerance for criticism. The tension across the social cleavages mounted, and clashes between the two sides of the cultural fault lines increased. They reached a climax in the spring of 1960, when the university students participated in the protest movement. The DP government's decision to suppress the student protest further increased the stresses and the strains in the system, which broke down with a military coup on May 27, 1960. The military moved not only to establish law and order, but also to put the democratic regime back onto its tracks. Therefore, it did not take very long for the military to move out of civilian politics. In 1961 a new constitution was drawn up and presented for popular approval. It was adopted with the support of a two-thirds majority of the valid vote at a referendum in 1961. In the meantime, the DP was closed down by a civilian court order for having violated the Associations Act, the leaders of the DP were tried by a martial court. The former prime minister Adnan Menderes, and two of his Cabinet associates, the former foreign minister Fatin R. Zorlu and the former minister of finance Hasan Polatkan were given death sentences for treason, and they were executed soon after. The rest of the DP elite was sentenced to various years of imprisonment. The post-1961 period started without the DP. However, the RPP continued to occupy its pivotal position in the Turkish party system. It went on to set the standard for political-ideological standings of the parties in the left-right spectrum in Turkish politics. Its ideological position became more distinct in the 1960s as the new multi-party era took root.

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Moderate pluralism and coalition politics in the 1961-1980 period The 1961 Constitution was drawn up by a group of experts who tried to devise solutions to the legal and political problems of the 1950s through the new constitution. They diagnosed that the ailments of the political regime of the 1950s emanated from the lack of checks and balances in the political system that failed to prevent hegemony or even tyranny of the parliamentary majority. Consequently, they tried to install various checks and balances in the system that would keep the parliamentary majorities from imposing their wishes and whims with little restraint and respect of the rule of law. An upper house, the Senate, was established in the previously unicameral TGNA, with the hope that an assembly of the elderly would act to counter or even restrain the potentially outlandish actions of the lower chamber. An independent Constitutional Court was established outside the legislature as a novel legal structure that would pass judgment on the constitutionality of the legislation of the TGNA and thus provide legal oversight over the actions of the legislative majorities. The Appellate Courts' jurisdiction and independence were further bolstered. Furthermore, various economic and social rights were given constitutional guarantees. The right to establish trade unions and voluntary associations was designed to provide a liberal context for such activities to flourish, and flourish they did. Finally, some activities, such as the audiovisual media and the universities were left under state control; however, they were designed as autonomous institutions, which enjoyed professional and financial independence. They were to be regulated by their own institutional control mechanisms and their own laws and regulations, which were protected against the encroachments of the legislative majorities (SOYSAL 1969, 153-189). The DP governments were believed to have abused their powers. Therefore, it was intended by the authors of the 1961 Constitution that the legislative majorities would be given clear guidelines or hints about what would be permissible to become political football and what would not. The experiment of the 1950s had given the impression to the authors of the constitution that without a clear set of checks and balances introduced as constitutional stipulation, the legislative majorities would be much tempted to interpret the 'national will' as the 'will of the majority'. Under the spell of such a perception, it was assumed that they would carry out what they consider to be the dictates of their 'Image of Good Society'. The experiences of the 1950s indicated that such an interpretation was a recipe for conflict, tension, eventually civil strife and breakdown of democracy. Therefore, the legislative majority was to be further restrained by various institutional checks and balances, such as the constitutional and legal oversight by the Constitutional Court and the other high courts of the country, and autonomous institutions, which pretty much ruled themselves in accordance with their laws and regulations. Finally, a liberal environment of political activity organized by voluntary associations was to nurture an effective pressure group environment, which would provide a most important check on the legislative majorities with its lobbying activities (KALAYCIOGLU 1990a, 90-111).

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The military leaders of the coup inserted their guardian role into the system by converting the junta into 'natural senators' (tabii senator) for life and thus hoped to function as a further 'check' on the legislative majorities in the Senate. In effect, they were eventually forgotten in the Senate as 'normalization' of civilian politics occurred in the 1960s. However, their very presence in the Senate rendered the system somewhat suspect in the eyes of those who had been supporting the DP in the 1950s. They tried to oppose the new constitution in the referendum, and they almost succeeded. However, their genuine success arrived with the national elections. The electoral system of the 1950s was also considered to be a factor contributing to the tyranny of the legislative majorities. The multi-member electoral districts in which lists of candidates were elected by a plurality of votes provided a lopsided representation to the party that had the most votes in each district. The electoral system produced a highly unfair distribution of the seats in the TGNA. Consequently, the designers of the Constitution also decided to abandon the plurality formula, and adopted a proportional representation formula, known as the d'Hondt (largest average) rule to convert the votes into seats in the multi-member districts. Indeed, a very fair distribution of the seats in the TGNA in relation to the votes obtained by each party which participated in the national elections occurred in the 1960s and the 1970s (KALAYCIOGLU 1997, 190). The outcome of the new constitutional design of the 1960s was the emergence of the first encounter with coalition governments in Turkey. In the 1961 elections no party was able to win the majority of the seats in the TGNA. Although, the DP was banned, the RPP failed to obtain more than a slight plurality of the votes in the 1961 elections. A new party established by a retired general Ragip Gumii§pala, the Justice Party (JP) was able to obtain the second largest share of the votes. It was still uncertain in the minds of the majority of the voters which party genuinely represented the legacy of the DP in 1961. The former DP vote was split across a number of political parties and the RPP had shown some gains over its dismal electoral performances of the 1950s. A coalition government turned out to be the only feasible option to rule the country until the next election. Actually, four coalition governments ruled Turkey between 1961 and 1965. Three of those coalition governments were headed by the leader of the RPP, Ismet inonii, and one was an interim coalition government that took the country to the next elections and was formed by a 'neutral' Suat Hayri Urgiiplii. The new electoral laws were able to deliver fairness, but hardly governability. The worst worries of the RPP elite of the 1940s seemed to be surfacing. The national elections of 1965 yielded one of the most representative results in the Republican history, and produced a party government (KALAYCIOGLU 1997, 190). The former DP voters had made up their minds and voted for the JP. The JP was able to win the majority of votes and the seats in the lower chamber of the TGNA. The RPP emerged as the main opposition party again. The same results were repeated in the 1969 elections. The old cast of the democratic game of the 1950s seemed to be resurfacing again in the 1960s. However, there were important differences between the political regime of the 1950s and the 1960s. The first and

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foremost difference was in the electoral laws. The plurality formula of the 1950s discouraged the political forces and factions associated with the main political parties from splitting and establishing new political parties to compete with the DP and RPP. However, the proportional representation {PR) formula used in the elections of the 1960s enabled such political forces and factions to establish their own political parties and compete with the JP and the RPP. They were able to receive enough votes to clinch some seats in the TGNA. The Turkish Workers Party (TWP) made a stellar appearance in the 1965 elections and declined under the stresses and strains of the right wing reactions in the 1969 elections. Some minor changes in the election laws that partly curbed the PR also contributed to the downfall of the TWP. However, the Nationalist Action Party (NAP), the National Order Party (NOP) and its successor the National Salvation Party (NSP) emerged and eventually established themselves as durable and formidable forces in Turkish politics. Various splits from the ranks of the JP and the RPP further undermined their predominant role in the party system. Secondly, the 1960s provided much wider channels and new opportunities for all political forces to organize into various interest groups and exert their influences on the system. This interest group activity increased the demand load on the political system, on the one hand, and provided an opportunity to increase the magnitude and variety of political participation in the system, on the other. The student activism that had started with the anti-DP demonstrations of Spring 1960 continued throughout the 1960s. The student revolts of 1968 in France and Germany provided another spark to light up the student fervor in the Universities of Ankara and Istanbul in that year. It eventually culminated in a much wider protest movement as the government turned a deaf ear to the student demands, some of which pointed at serious deficiencies in the educational system. The student protests gained momentum as the government tried to suppress them. Their initial narrow focus on education widened to include all political issues, and the student revolts grew into a major protest movement. They also found new allies by 1970. The trade unions started to show interest in the methods used by the students. A major strike turned into a labor uprising in Istanbul, Kocaeli and other industrial towns, which precipitated a harsher reaction from the government. The military was again appealed to by the government to cope with the new challenge. The use of the troops to contain and quash the labor unrest precipitated another process which eventually led to another but softer military intervention on March 12, 1971 that lasted for two years. Thirdly, the ruling elite had few qualms about the rules of the game in the 1950s. The complaints of the opposition with the electoral system was the only issue with the rules of the game that stuck out as a 'regime issue'. However, in the 1960s a central debate emerged over the very regime of the political system itself. The JP was able to obtain the majority of the votes and the seats in the TGNA. However, the JP elite systematically argued that the 1961 Constitution was a document undemocratically imposed upon the people, and rendered the very task of government unmanagable. The PM and the leader of the JP Siileyman Demirel was among those who argued that there were too many 'restraints' (meaning

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checks and balances, such as the Constitutional Court and other independent courts) on the duly elected government, which rendered the 1961 Constitution a 'luxury' for Turkey. The RPP associated itself with the 1961 Constitution and defended it. Hence, a serious issue on the very legitimacy of the political regime developed in the 1960s and loomed until the complete demise of the 1961 Constitution in 1980. The 1961-1980 period is, in one sense, a period of tense political legitimacy crisis in Turkey. The political system could never grow out of it. Neither the RPP nor the JP gave in. Consequently, they failed to come to terms with each other on the basic features of the political regime and the rules of the democratic game. The exclusion of the former DP and the JP elite from the constitution writing process in 1960-1961 seemed to have resulted in a state of bitterness that they could never outgrow. Hence, conflict often degenerating into no-holds-barred war dominated the RPP — JP interactions in the 1961-1980 period as well. Fourth, the 1960s ushered in a new era of ideological outlook in Turkish politics. The political class and the pundits of politics started to define and perceive political issues and interactions from a perspective of ideological positioning of the actors involved in political interactions. The political terminology of the 'left' versus the 'right' emerged to dominate the political discourse. Under the influence of the changing times, the RPP declared itself to be of a 'left-of-center' party on the left-right continuum in 1964. The JP defined itself as a right-of-center party by default. All other parties positioned themselves by reference to the RPP accordingly. The RPP once again set the tone and substance of political discourse and interaction in the country. The overall focus of Turkish politics moved to socio-economic issues» social class interactions, social stratification, and economic welfare issues, (i. e., real estate ownership, land reform, income distribution etc.) (DODD 1979, 113-122). Fifth, the 1961-1980 period provided the necessary conditions for the establishment of an independent judiciary for the first time in the Republican history. The executive oversight of and interference with hiring, promoting, and firing of the personnel in the judiciary branch of government was terminated by the stipulations of the 1961 Constitution (SOYSAL 1968, 167-174). That development also constituted a deviation from the single party style of rule of the 1950s, during which the judiciary continued to function under the political tutelage of the Ministry of Justice. The 1961-1980 era may thus be referred to as one of experimentation with limited government within the framework of a modified version of the 'Westminster model'. The political regime still rested on the idea of the supremacy of the legislature as the institution which embodied the 'national will'. However, with the establishment of the practice of 'independent' institutions, checks were structurally designed with the goal of restricting the 'absolute rule of parliamentary majorities'. With a constitutional court and independent judiciary, balances were also introduced to further curb the power of parliamentary majorities. The military intervention of 1971 fastened the process of dissolution of the predominant party system. The 1970s witnessed a gradual realignment of the voters in

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Turkey. The RPP started to gain more electoral support, and by the 1977 national elections obtained an unprecedented 42% of the national vote. A new realignment of the vote seemed to be occurring as the voters moved to support the left-ofcenter RPP (TACHAU 1984, 71). The JP was further threatened from its further right, when the NSP and NAP managed to get about 15% of the national vote among themselves in the 1973 national elections (KALAYCI06LU 1997, 190). The JP started to change its ideological position and moved further right to cope with the challenge of the fringe right. Consequently, the JP not only sought coalition partnership with the NSP and NAP, but also stepped up its criticisms of the RPP and strained its relations with the latter to widen the ideological gap between them. The JP's strategy of survival, therefore, rested on the strategy of championing the nationalist/chauvinist and Islamic (Sunni) issues and values, which the NAP and NSP were becoming quite successful in promoting, on the one hand, and stressing dissimilarities with the RPP's ideological position, by accusing it of being soft on 'communism', on the other. The JP hoped that its voters would find it so similar to the NSP and the NAP so as not to consider them as alternatives to the JP, on the right, and to consider the RPP as so different an attractive substitute for the JP that it was not on the left. The RPP also followed a similar strategy of stressing dissimilarities with the JP, on the one hand, and addressing and promoting values and issues championed by the TWP and other fringe left, on the other. The overall outcome of the fragmentation of the party system, and the campaign strategies and ideological inclinations of the RPP and JP increased the polarization of the Turkish polity. When combined with rapid social mobilization and the ensuing increase in the magnitude and variety of political participation, polarization further contributed to warlike conditions between the political forces of the country (KALAYCIOGLU 1990a, 104-111). By the summer of 1980 some 25 people had been assassinated in terrorist activities carried out by the fringe left and rightwing groups. As expected, the military was once more invited to cope with the problem of establishing 'law and order' by the civilian governments. The initial attempt at cooperating over combatting terror with the civilian authorities failed to be efficient. On September 12, 1980 the military once more intervened in civilian, democratic politics to establish law and order (TACHAU 1984, 40-43). The military interregnum of 1980-1983 and the 1982 Constitution The third military intervention was the longest and the most influential of them all. It lasted over three years. The military government of the period made farreaching changes in the Turkish political regime. Among them, the banning of all political parties and party elite from politics was the most important. However, a new constitution was drawn up under the vigilant eyes of the military elite, which deeply changed almost all of the political institutions, processes, and practices of the pre-1980 era. The military government of the 1980s diagnosed the coalition governments and the fragmented party system of the 1970s as the greatest evils that inhibited the political system in governing itself (TACHAU 1984, 40-43). The military

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government also seemed to equate limited government with ineffective, inefficient, or even 'weak government'. Hence, the new political regime was constructed with the premise of realizing 'strong government'. The 1982 Constitution was authored so as to scrap as many of the 'limits' on the government as possible. The independent judiciary, the Senate, and the independent institutions had to go. The executive branch of government was bolstered with powers that enabled it to move effectively and efficiently, without being balanced and checked by either of the other two branches of the government. The office of the President was also given new powers, which extended the jurisdiction of the President to a degree not foreseen in the design of the 'Westminster model' (KALAYCIOGLU 1985, 18-21). The powers of the National Security Council (NSC) were also preserved to enable it to function as a facility through which executive fiat could be exercised over the TGNA. The electoral laws were also designed to ensure the governability of the system. The authors of the electoral law had intended to give the impression of representativeness of the electoral law by preserving the previous commitment to PR by adopting the 'd'Hondt formula' in converting votes to parliamentary seats. However, since their overall goal was to avoid the presumed dire outcomes of the 'dysfunctional' aspects of coalition politics, they also tried to curb tendencies toward fragmentation of the vote across a large number of political parties, as had been the case in the 1961-1980 period. Hence, a relatively high national threshold of 10% was imposed upon the political parties taking part in the national elections. Therefore, only those political parties that obtain 10% or more of the valid vote can gain seats in the TGNA, through the application of the 'd'Hondt formula' for the conversion of their votes to parliamentary seats. Since the 'd'Hondt formula' also favors the front runner, the military government of 1983 hoped that one of the political parties would win the election. The 10% national threshold was considered as being too high for the fringe left and rightwing parties to go over at the time. Consequently, it was hoped that through election engineering coalition governments would be avoided, on the one hand, and one of those moderate left or right-of-center political parties would form the government by itself after each election, on the other (EVREN 1991, 274-89).

The overall consequence of the above-mentioned features of the 1982 Constitution was the de jure establishment of executive supremacy over the legislature and the judiciary. The doctrine of legislative supremacy as the outcome of the exercise of the national will, which is embodied in the TGNA is hard to defend under the circumstances (KALAYCIOGLU 1990b, 188-206). The powers of the TGNA are trimmed to endow it with little capability to control the all powerful executive (IBID, 204-206). The independence of the judiciary is also in grave doubt, since the Ministry of Justice officials and the Minister are endowed with powers with the help of which they can dictate who gets to be hired, promoted, and fired as judges and prosecutors. The previous constitutional oversight capabilities of the Constitutional Court are also curbed to limit its supervisory effectiveness over the due process of law. The interest group activities were also put under strict executive and administrative jurisdiction of the Ministry of Interior

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Affairs. Interest-group activities also failed to emerge as a viable buffer against the excesses of the executive branch of government. The independent status of the Turkish Radio and Television, as well as of the universities were also completely eliminated. Consequently, the experiment with limited government was aborted as of 1980. Instead, a structurally modified version of the 'Westminster model' was left intact, in which a new principle of executive supremacy over the legislative and judicial branches of government had been adopted. It seems as if the authors of the 1982 Constitution hoped to establish a semiPresidential regime, a la France, but failed to carry out their project. Instead, a weird looking parliamentary model emerged. It looks like a 'Westminster model' of parliamentarism; however, it lacks an upper chamber, negates the very ideas of legislative supremacy, and contains a Presidential office endowed with the powers to declare war, to veto top level bureacratic appointments, and to cast the decisive vote in the NSC, which the President chairs etc. Consequently, it looks like a hybrid of parliamentary and presidential regimes, which is mired with the complexities of both, and thus functions through an executive branch of government, which acts without legislative and judicial control. Hence, in practice it often led to arbitrary and excessive use of power and even physical force. Corruption charges and accusations of human rights abuses piled up to new heights as the governments, with little self-restraint and a political system with almost no checks and balances, started to function according to the rules of the new political game in the 1980s. Executive supremacy, polarized pluralism, and the demise of the 'Westminster model': the political regime in the post-1983 period The model of parliamentarism incorporated in the 1982 Constitution failed to perform to the expectations of its authors. The overarching aim of it was to deliver political stability through party governments. Indeed, the 1983 and the 1987 elections produced party governments. However, the 1983 election was somewhat like that of the 1946 election, that is, it was neither fair nor free. The military government exercised veto power over which parties and candidates were to enter the 1983 election, and only three political parties were permitted to take part in the elections. The right-of-center Nationalist Democracy Party (NDP) and the left-ofcenter Populist Party (PP) were encouraged to organize and participate in the elections by the military rulers of the country. The Motherland Party (MP) was the only other political organization, which was tolerated by the military government. It was established by the former minister of the state in charge of the economy in the military government, Turgut Ozal. The former two parties symbolized the continuity of the military regime, whereas the MP signalled a partial return to civilian politics. The plurality of the voters supported the MP at the polls. In the meantime, the political elites of the 1970s were banned from political activity for a period of up to ten years. However, a constitutional referendum reinstated their political rights as of 1986. Therefore, the national election of 1987 was the first free election of the 1980s. The MP leadership used its power in the TGNA to

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gerrymander the electoral districts and erect district level thresholds, over and beyond the national threshold of 10%, to be able to hold on to power. Their tactics worked, and they were able to win the most votes and seats in the TGNA in 1987. However, the results of the 1987 election indicated that it was one of the least fair elections the country ever had (KALAYCIOGLU 1997, 190). The Turkish political system veered toward another legitimacy crisis as the opposition parties started to step up their criticisms of the electoral laws in the late 1980s. The MP Government enjoyed a huge legislative support by controlling 64.9% of the seats in the TGNA, with 36.3% of the national vote (KALAYCIOÔLU 1997, 190). However, they failed to govern the country effectively. The 1989 local elections gave the first signals of change. The social democrats swept 55 out of 67 major cities. In the meantime, Turgut Ôzal grabbed the opportunity and resigned his prime ministerial position to be elected as the new president of the country. The MP suddenly found itself embroiled in a leadership struggle for the next two years. Eventually, Mesut Yilmaz emerged as the new leader of the MP, became the new PM in summer 1991 and went for early elections in the Fall. The True Path Party (TPP), which was founded by the former PM, Suleyman Demirel, won the most votes, the MP came a close second, and the Social Democrat Populist Party (SDPP) a close third in the 1991 national elections. Turkey reverted back to coalition politics. In 1993 President Turgut Ôzal passed away. The then PM Suleyman Demirel succeeded him as the next president. Consequently, a leadership contest started within the ranks of the TPP to fill his vacant seat as the leader of the party. Although a newcomer to Turkish politics, Tansu Çiller won the support of the party delegates in the convention to be named the next leader of the TPP and, by default, the next PM of the country. However, the TPP failed to solve its leadership problem easily. The old guard was eventually purged from the party and established their own political organization, namely the Democratic Turkey Party (DTP). In the meantime, the leader of the SDPP inôniï resigned, and another leadership question emerged in that party. SDPP eventually merged with the reestablished RPP. However, the leadership problem persisted until Deniz Baykal ascended to the leadership of the RPP in the same year. After the dust settled, two political parties continued to persist on the left, and two on the right-of-center locations to vie for those votes in the center of the leftright spectrum. The former leader of the RPP Bulent Ecevit had established his own political party in the 1980s. He stayed cool to any rapprochement by the new RPP for the re-establishment of the old RPP of the pre-1980 period. Similarly, the MP and TPP stayed cool to any form of integration into a single party. In the 1991 and 1995 national elections, highly volatile and fragmented voter blocs reasserted themselves after a ten year interregnum following the military intervention. Hence, the raison d'être of the political engineering project of the 1982 Constitution received a very severe blow, as it became clear that Turkey could only be ruled by coalition governments. Furthermore, what the authors of the 1982 Constitution had hoped to establish through constitutional and electoral engineering was to keep the system insulated from the destabilizing influences of the far left and right by

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keeping them out of both the parliament and coalition cabinets. Instead, the far right not only managed to go over the national threshold, but also became a major partner in the coalition government of 1996-1997. The leader of the Welfare Party (WP), — which was established by the same cadres in the 1980s as the NSP was banned from politics, — Necmettin Erbakan even became the Prime Minister. It seems as if neither the fragmentation nor the volatility of the vote could be avoided under the domestic and international developments of the 1990s. The 1982 Constitution has been disowned by all the political parties which took no part in designing it and therefore, feel morally uncommitted to it. Its very spirit which considers the political actors of the 1970s suspect for the dire developments of that decade has never been considered as less than repulsive and odious by the political class. The 1961 Constitution was considered as being legitimate by the RPP. However, none of the current political parties considers the 1982 Constitution as legitimate. Therefore, a creeping or simmering legitimacy crisis lingers on as the 'images of good society' as envisioned by each political party significantly differ from that of the 1982 Constitution. Furthermore, the 1982 Constitution failed dismally in contributing to the overall stability of the regime, party system, and to party government. Whatever goal the authors of the 1982 Constitution had targeted seemed to have been completely missed by the 1990s. The 1982 Constitution itself has started to be perceived as a problem by the very actors who need to abide by it in carrying out their democratic activities. Since 1995, serious efforts have been launched to amend it drastically by the parliamentary party groups. Some of those efforts met with success by the summer of 1995. However, only some minor modifications have been carried out to liberalize the political regime and permit a more fertile context for political activities to unfold. The TGNA is still going through those motions that are necessary to establish coherence between the laws of the land and the constitutional amendments of 1995. However, an independent judiciary is still a distant goal in 1997. There are still restrictions on the freedoms of expression, press, and association. Hence, limited government and rule of law remain long-term goals of the system. Consequently, by default, the political regime of Turkey has created an interesting composition of structure and function. The political structure of the regime looks considerably modern, with a parliament, an effective executive, and an elaborately defined judiciary, and a large and considerably centralized public bureaucracy, elected local officials, political parties, and voluntary associations. However, they all work according to a set of norms that does not always coincide with the laws or the constitution. Primordial affinities, religious orders, and regional bondages {hem§ehrilik/hem§erilik) play a major role in a patronage-ridden environment that bypasses or takes over the formal settings of the political institutions (KALAYCIOGLU 1992, 111-120). Paternal or maternal symbols are often wielded by the leaders and their followers during their political interactions. As ideology began to lose its grip on the minds of the voters and the party elite, cultural bondages, identity, and religiosity started to dominate the polity more openly than ever before. The patrimonial Ottoman political culture gave way with the intrusion

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of modern structures. However, the values, attitudes and norms of the cultural heritage of the patrimonial past still have their binding imprint on the behavior of the voters and the political elite alike. A curious neo-patrimonial mix of structure and culture has resulted in the amalgam of Sunni Islam, religious orders and tarikats, ties to global economic interests, lineage networks, and regional bondages to create a form of political activity that resembles the political regime of the dissolving Ottoman Empire a hundred years ago, in a democratizing format (KALAYCIOGLU 1992, 111-113). A call for presidential or semi-presidential regime seems to be growing louder and louder, as the confused and bewildered political pundits and leaders try to simultaneously cope with change and stability. An elected chief executive, who would rule the country by fiat, is desired by a relatively large number of political and economic interests. Some interests in Turkey seem to be seeking an 'elected monarch', or more fittingly a prototype of an 'elected' Abdiilhamit II for the country, whose political style of rule will be another form of reincarnated patrimonialism (KALAYCIOGLU 1992, 111). What these developments indicate is a political regime that consists of de jure executive supremacy, which functions relatively unchecked by either the legislative or the judicial branches of government. In an environment where civic initiatives, associability and voluntary associations are still frail, a strong and unhindered executive leads to excesses of governmental demeanor. Consequently, political corruption and decay have emerged as major political issues of the 1990s. Both the 1995 and 1999 national election campaigns incorporated serious allegations of political corruption, incriminating major political figures in many political parties. The spiralling number of court cases involving the political elite, top level bureaucrats, and some self-made billionaires is another indication of the severity of political decay in the country. Short of re-imposition of effective checks and balances, increased transparency, and broadened freedom of expression, it seems as if the regime of executive supremacy is likely to contribute to more cases of abuse of power and political corruption. Conjectures and conclusions The political regime of the Turkish system was originally installed upon an inspiration that emanated from the 'Westminster model of democracy' in the 1920s. It immediately took a turn toward a one-party rule that lasted until the end of World War II. Under the international and domestic developments of the time, the original 'Westminster model' was re-instituted. However, it failed to produce a stable multi-party system. Eventually, the political regime incorporated the essentials of a predominant party system, which, under the influences of the cultural heritage of the system, started to degenerate into a new form of single party rule in the late 1950s, when an officers' coup interrupted the first experiment with democracy in the country. The establishment of a modified version of the 'Westminster model' introduced institutional checks and balances to forestall hegemony of parliamentary majorities for the first time in the Republican Turkish history. The party system evolved into polarized pluralism by the 1970s, which led to coalition governments, on the one hand, and to legitimacy and participation

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crises, which bred political instability, on the other. Under stress, the democratic regime broke down in 1980. Finally, a new political regime was designed in the early 1980s, which tried to cope with the dysfunctional influences of polarized pluralism. The current regime, (which may legitimately be called 'executive supremacy'), stresses governability through independent executive action with minimal checks and balances imposed upon it by the TGNA, the judiciary and the interest groups. The political clout of the office of the prime minister is awesome; however, the presidency is also bolstered with new powers and media attention as well. Hence, a timid move toward a presidential form of government seems to have already taken place in Turkey. The overall outcome of the upheavals of the last four decades seemed to have undermined the institutionalization process of all branches of government, and thus provided a large room for personalities to cast their images on the political scene with the help of the media. The personalization of political power seems to have resuscitated the cultural basis of a form of government that rests more on the capabilities of individual leaders, and thus creates a constant yearning for 'visionary' leaders, and precipitates arbitrary rule. Political interactions seem to occur as much without the institutional binds of the regime as within them. At times informal committees, advisers and zealots seem to get greater notice and impact on decision-making than the legally instituted structures and those who legitimately occupy positions within them. Likewise, primordial ties have also been emphasized as sources of influence and bases of patronage to a greater extent than before. Clientelistic ties took over whatever realm political institutions vacated. Sunni Islam found a new meaning and life in the arena of politics that had not been possible since Abdulhamit II was ousted from the Ottoman throne in 1909. Indeed, a form of political structure occupies the focal position in the political regime in which a strong leader in company of his co-opted advisers and sycophants 'rule' by fiat. Hence, I have called this cultural style of government neo-Hamidianism, for its striking resemblance to the style of rule of Abdulhamit II (KALAYCIOGLU 1 9 9 2 , 1 1 1 ) . Indeed, it is very likely that such a model will serve as the basis of a semi-presidential form of government, if an elected president can be added on to the current constitutional framework as a novel appendage. In the meantime, the overall evolution of the political regime of the Turkish system had started with a centralist, secularist, and nationalist core. Over the years the coalition of social forces which constituted that central core started to dissolve with the democratization of the system. Democracy ushered in the representatives of the periphery into the center and delivered a fatal blow to the original coalition of the members of the TGNA, party elite, top echelons of the civil servants, the military elite, the legal elite, intellectuals, university professors etc., who constituted that center. The TGNA was the first institution to be conquered by the forces of the periphery. The cabinet and highest level posts of the public bureaucracy were the other major institutions to fall into the hands of the representatives of the periphery. Eventually, all other institutions followed suit. Currently, the core that upholds the centralist, secularist, and nationalist ideas and ideals shrank in size to coincide with a few ministries of the cabinet, such as those of the foreign affairs and defense, some political parties, some judges, some

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intellectuals etc. Hence, what ensued is a much more complicated picture. Every political institution and social category of the former center is now divided up between those who uphold the values of the previous center and those who promote the values of the periphery. What looked like a neat division between a compact and coherent coalition of various elites versus the heterogeneous amalgam of values and lifestyles of the periphery has now evolved into a cultural cleavage that widely separates people who experience different lifestyles throughout the country. The rapid social mobilization and democratization seems to have contributed to a confrontation of disparate and parochial life styles, values, and beliefs. Those who used to live separate lives in different locations in Anatolia and Eastern Thrace have now found themselves sharing the same streets and resources of the metropolitan areas. They also seem to regularly interact in the same political and administrative contexts provided by the institutions and agencies of the state and local government. When lifestyles and values differ, conflicts often emerge as people start to confront each other to elicit respect for their different styles of life. The bureaucratic norms often come to clash with such demands emanating from the socio-cultural differences of the employees. Consequently, the previous cultural division of the center and periphery has become much more pervasive, perceptible, and constantly present in every nook and cranny of the Turkish polity and society of the 1990s. The collapse of the Cold War further engendered a deepening of the abovementioned cultural cleavage. The volatile regions surrounding Turkey contributed to a heightened awareness of the self as a member of a community, which is a remnant of an Ottoman Empire connected to the Muslim iimmet (community), and the Turkic culture, which extends from the Balkans to East Asia. Coincidentally, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, those communities which had anything to do with Islam, the Ottoman heritage, and Turkishness came under a severe threat. As images of Azeris suffering at the hands of the Armenians, Bosnians at the hands of Serbs and Croats, Checens at the hands of the Russian army etc. were beamed to the TV screens in Turkey, the people started to get the impression that 'those like us' are under threat of ethnic cleansing. Their cries for help in comprehensible Turkish touched a sensitive chord. Furthermore, all of those developments occurred at a time when some Kurds have been pushing for political recognition through violence, causing loss of lives throughout the country. As those Kurds pressed for the recognition of their political identity, the rest of the Turkish population was also pushed to probe into their ethnic roots. A sense of ethnic curiosity and awareness was aroused in the 1990s. The loss of life in the terror campaigns of the Kurdish separatists further contributed to a more ethnic or even racial understanding of 'being Kurdish' and 'Turkish' to an extent that had never before existed in Turkish society. Hence, the ultra-nationalist, religious, chauvinist, and xenophobic groups and parties started to get more recognition and support in Turkish politics. The political significance of cultural and primordial ties was further enhanced to contribute to the emergence of deep fault lines that divide up the society and polity along secularist versus religious, Alawi versus Sunni, and Kurdish versus Turkish nationalist continua.

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The political issues of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s were cultural and economic in nature. The cultural revolution of the time and the aftermath of the Great depression had engendered an overwhelming impact on the content of the issues of the day. By the 1950s political issues were more about political values (i.e., political liberties), sensibilities (i.e., partisan behavior of governments), and personalities. The 1961-1980 period witnessed an overall change in the substance of the political issues which veered away from their previous content toward socio-economic issues, concerning distribution of land and other resources, income distribution, and relations of social classes etc. However, under the influence of international and domestic changes the political issues once more gained a cultural content. The current focus on cultural issues intensifies the tension between the governing coalitions and their opposition, both within and without the TGNA. The mounting participatory load on the political system fuels protest behavior. However, in contrast to earlier times, the overall tolerance for political protest seems to be increasing. The 1982 Constitution has also failed to coincide with the 'images of good society' that the political parties reflect in their programs and propaganda. Although similar conditions had existed in the past, the current situation seems to be more critical. In the past at least some of the political parties acted as if they considered the 'rules of the game' as acceptable and appropriate. Currently, no political party fully accepts the 'rules of the game' as stated in the constitution, election laws, political parties act, and other political rules and regulations, such as the standing order. Therefore, the current crisis of legitimacy seems to be more far reaching than any of the previous forms of political legitimacy. However, it seems to breed much less conflict, since no party defends the current rules of the game that the others find illegitimate. Instead, the lack of moral commitment of the political actors to the rules of the game breeds an overall laxness in behaving according to the laws and rules that define the regime. The disregard for the rules of the game by the political actors breeds a climate of disregard for laws and regulations by the people as well. Furthermore, the load of demands on the judiciary increases as conflict mounts in a social setting where people are compelled to share the same resources and geography with others whose lifestyles irreconcilably differ from their own. The law enforcement procedures have also lost their effectiveness under the circumstances. Hence, a relatively large grey area of alegality, if not illegality has sprouted. Consequently, rule of law has become a relatively distant goal, which in turn contributes to the slant of arbitrariness of political rule. Being highly effervescent since World War II, Turkish political upheavals, regime breakdowns, and political crises have delivered severe blows to the institutions of the political regime. What seems to be lacking in the political regime is the institutionalization of the basic structures, procedures, and rules of conduct. The lack of shared understanding of what constitutes 'good society' in Turkey among the major political actors forestalls institutionalization of the TGNA, and an independent judiciary, as well as professionalization of the actors that play roles in the TGNA, political parties, and the public bureaucracy. It looks as if political

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stability is unlikely to be avoided unless the structures and procedures of the regime gain respect and some stability in the eyes of professional political actors. The current fragmentation and volatility of the vote, which contribute to the emergence of a polarized pluralist party system seem to engender a proclivity among some right-wing parties for the establishment of a presidential regime. If that project succeeds and another regime change occurs, Turkey will become an example of a country that has tried every version of the 'Westminster model' and its corollaries. However, the chances of developing a capability to successfully cope with the problem of political instability, and thus rendering the system governable under a presidential regime — as the Latin American, African, East European, and Asian examples of presidentialism cited in the literature indicate — looks bleak. A whole new set of laws, rules, regulations, and procedures will be required to implement the presidential regime. Such a period of uncertainty will further contribute to the continuation of the bickering over the rules, procedures, and norms of that new regime. Therefore, such an overhaul of the system would further undermine respect and trust in the institutions of democracy. If a new set of 'rules of the game' needs to be adopted, then a very large consensus over them needs to be worked out across all of the major political forces of the country over what constitutes a workable set of basic rules of conduct in politics. A moral commitment by all the major political actors to the rules of the game that they contribute to draw up would serve as an impediment to incessant bickering over the legitimacy of such rules. Then, respect and trust for institutions may ensue such a development, which would provide for institutionalization of the political structures, procedures, and norms of such a regime. Under those circumstances the professionalization of the actors who seek to play certain political roles will have an enhanced chance of being effected. Professional norms and rules will then have an improved chance of being implemented in all the branches of government, which in turn will uplift the chances of providing for a context in which arbitrary rule will be discouraged and rule of law will be further promoted. If such a broad consensus over the rules of the political game cannot be manufactured by the major political forces in Turkey, then a lack of commitment to the current rules and procedures can contribute to further de-institutionalization of the structures of the political regime. Electoral laws promoting proportional representation, a polarized pluralist party system, coalition governments between moderate left and right- wing parties, married with partial decentralization that accompanies some devolution of power from the center, market economy, which somewhat restricts the magnitude and role of the state in the economy, and increasing tolerance for expressions of thought, activities of voluntary associations, and other liberties seem to be the basic proclivities of the current political regime. A re-emphasis of the legislature as the sole fount of political legitimacy, and an independent judiciary would also help to establish a democratic regime. If a consensus on such properties of the regime occur, then no major overhaul is necessary to avoid bickering over the rules, which in turn can contribute to surmounting the lingering legitimacy crisis. Such a compromise may indeed be happening by default. Left and right-of-center parties have been demonstrating an ability to coalesce since 1991. If they can develop a perspective that adopts such a coalition behavior as the

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modus operandi of the political regime, then a first major step can be taken in the direction of consolidating the current political regime in Turkey. Short of that, continuous political instability and a possible breakdown of democracy (not necessarily by means of a military coup) is to be expected. The political regime of the Turkish Republic was initially established on the assumption that all political legitimacy emanated from the 'will of the nation'. In fact, the entire state apparatus had consisted of the legislature during the War of National Liberation. At the outset, de jure legislative supremacy constituted the gist of the regime. However, with one-party rule under the charismatic leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatiirk, it evolved toward de facto executive supremacy. When democratization and rapid social mobilization started to unfold as two distinct processes, deeply influencing the political and economic processes of the country, a new challenge emerged. The Turkish political regime found itself grappling with political stability and a political legitimacy crisis. The outlook and the actors of the stability and legitimacy crisis changed over time. Turkey changed the very structure of its political regime under the influence of democratization and social mobilization. Democratization had started with a 'Westminster model' of democracy in the 1940s. Following a coup in the 1960s various checks and balances had to be introduced to limit the executive branch of the government, as well as the excesses of the majorities controlling the TGNA. The de jure supremacy of the legislature continued to be the fundamental aspect of the political regime of the 196180 period. Although democratization gained further ground by the 1970s, the problems of legitimacy and stability still lingered on with increasing intensity. Another breakdown of the democratic regime occurred by 1980. A more dramatic step followed when the 1982 Constitution paved the way for the establishment of the political regime on de jure executive supremacy. The framers of the Constitution hoped to grapple with what they considered to be the most important problem of the political regime, namely political stability. They believed that an arbitrary executive is a strong executive, and a strong executive branch of the government would be ideally suited to cope with the forces of political destabilization. This odyssey of the Turkish political regime from de jure legislative supremacy under parliamentary one-party rule to de jure legislative supremacy under a twoparty system based on the principles of the 'Westminster model', and a final turn to de jure executive supremacy in a multi-party system has not yet ended. It is hard to imagine that the current political regime of Turkey can survive without a drastic reform, either towards a parliamentary regime or some form of semi-presidentialism. The latter would be very difficult to sustain in an extremely pluralist party system, where seven voting blocs contribute to the election of five or more parties to the TGNA. If a semi-presidential regime is introduced, then there will be some kind of governmental paralysis under the influence of the multiple party system. The democratic system will degenerate into some form of one-party or one-man rule, or simply break down by means of a military coup. Hence, semipresidentialism will neither solve the legitimacy, nor the stability problems. Only new legitimacy and stability problems will emerge as the President and the PM start to engage in Byzantine intrigues or fights against each other, and/or fight with the volatile legislative coalitions. Coalition politics in a parliamentary regime that emphasizes de jure legislative supremacy and functions with 5-7 political parties seems to be the only course to be taken to solve the legitimacy problem of the gov-

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ernments. Political stability will depend on the ability and acumen of the Turkish political class in establishing governable coalitions. With so many blocs of voters, Turkey has no choice but to be ruled by coalition governments. It would be naive to think that these historically and culturally engendered voting blocs could disappear. The choice that confronts the country is to make these coalitions latent, (and submerge them into factions within two or three, vast party organizations), or conspicuous, (and observe them play the parliamentary game of coalition government building as political parties). Under the current circumstances, the nature and structure of the political regime will go on to be debated among the pundits and practitioners of Turkish politics. The preferences that were listed in the previous paragraph involve different 'images of democratic society'. The Turkish political elite is still undecided about the method and priorities of determining the structure and nature of a 'democratic' political regime. They want increased representativeness and stability of the governments and the political system. However, the Turkish political elites still believe that legitimacy of governments emanates from their representativeness; yet without sacrificing representativeness, it is difficult to establish stable governments. If the two are compromised, then the legitimacy of the government comes under attack. When the legitimacy of the government erodes, the public bureaucracy and the masses fail to obey the directives of the government and the political stability of the system comes under threat. On the other hand, when the representativeness of the TGNA improves, it becomes increasingly difficult to establish coalition governments. Without governmental stability no governmental directives can be issued and the public bureaucracy either fails to perform, or starts to rule without heeding its political masters. Under those circumstances, the legitimacy of the political activities of the government comes under attack. This vicious circle of representativeness, lack of governmental stability, and legitimacy crisis cannot be broken unless certain preferences and rankings of priorities are made by the Turkish political elites. What is suggested here is a fundamental re-drawing of the rules of the political game that constitute the regime of the Turkish political system. A dramatic overhaul of the current constitution, or drawing up a new 'basic document' that will project an 'image of good society' based on polyarchy is urgently needed. Otherwise, the Turkish political regime will go on being mired in paradoxes, vicious circles, and/or contradictory requirements, and fall prey to the very ailments, such as political instability, legitimacy crisis, breakdowns of democracy etc., it hopes to avoid.

Representative bodies in Turkey WALTER F. WEIKER*

Introduction Representative bodies have existed in Turkey since the Tanzimat period. The first national one was the Ottoman Parliament of 1876-78, which was prorogued by Sultan Abdiilhamid after only a short period, but one of the first actions by the Young Turks was to reconvene it in 1908. In 1923 the Turkish Republic was proclaimed by what had been, since 1920, the Grand National Assembly (Biiyiik Millet Meclisi). In the periods of strict authoritarian rule (1913-18 and 1925-45) institutions with an at least formally representative character were always carefully kept in place. In the two instances (1960 and 1980) in which the elected legislature was suspended by the Turkish military, the highest priority was given to reestablishing it under what were considered by the leaders of the armed forces to be more suitable organizational arrangements. What this demonstrates is that the idea of a social contract as the underlying principle of the legal state and of a division of powers has strong roots in Turkey and that the notion that representativity is the ultimate legitimation of rule is well established. Since the Tanzimat era Turkey has also had numerous elections, at both the national and local levels. In fact, with the exception of the 'developed' states of Western Europe, the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, Turkey ranks very high among the countries of the world in terms of their regularity, and with only a few exceptions, in their fairness. And while some questions will be raised in this article about the degree to which the elected bodies can be considered 'representative' (by which is meant that their composition has been an accurate reflection of the opinions of the population), the record is generally one of which Turkey can be proud. There are several possible ways in which the degree of representativity could have been considered distorted. Under the Young Turks the franchise was severely limited. In the Atatiirk years the President picked all candidates, even within the single-party framework. In the early multi-party period the electoral system distorted the results of the popular vote by giving the party which won in each province all of that province's parliamentary seats. In the post-1980 period the combination of very high (ten percent) thresholds both on a provincial and on a national level has produced a situation in which up to forty percent of the population is not represented in parliament by the representatives of its choice. Finally, in recent years some of the parties have been more like factions, i.e. the vehicles for particular leaders rather than competing on primarily programmatic bases. This is by no means meant be negative about Turkey, however, and possible shortcomings in representativity are not unique to Turkey. The possible parallels * Sadly Walter F. Weiker passed away soon after he had completed the draft of this chapter of Fundamenta. It was therefore edited and updated by the Editor of the present volume.

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elsewhere include arrangements such as the electoral college system in the United States, and the nationally-based single-member constituency winner-take all system in Great Britain which has frequently resulted in very large disparities between the number of votes a party obtained and its strength in Parliament. Questions can also be raised about the importance of low election turn-outs which are seen in many countries. Even further, one could ask whether elections are the best measure of representativity. Often they give the public the choice only among very general programs of the political parties, so that voters have little opportunity to indicate their preferences on specific issues or to have input into the policy-making process on more than a few and infrequent occasions. Despite this, however, elections are still probably the best measure available, given the fact that even when there are additional methods of making one's wishes known directly to government officials it is only a small and stratified segment of the population that will take advantage of them. Therefore, while many questions can be raised, an analysis of Turkish election results and the composition of Turkish legislatures can indeed give us important information about the relationships between the public and the policymaking institutions which are the heart of any political system. The Ottoman period The idea of having representative institutions first came to Ottoman political life during the Tanzimat period. In its efforts to preserve the empire the Sultan's government adopted various political and social structures in order to legitimize itself, especially in the eyes of the European powers and with the Empire's nonMuslim minorities, whose support was thought to be necessary and which were threatening to break away from the empire. The best-known of these was the Ottoman Parliament of 1876-78, but it was not the empire's first representative body. It was preceded in 1868 in Istanbul by a General City Assembly (Cemiyet-i Umumiye) which was composed of delegates from various districts of the city, to deal with general municipal questions. Each of 14 districts, governed by a council of 8-12 members, chose several of their own number whenever a meeting of the General Council was called. The district councils had been chosen through indirect and limited popular elections. Regulations also were passed for similar councils in other cities, with franchise limited by property and income, but it is not clear how many ever functioned (SHAW a n d SHAW 1977, 93).

The Ottoman constitution, with its provisions for representative organs, had actually been preceded by the 'constitution' of the Armenian nation (millet) within the Ottoman Empire. This charter, which was originally drawn up by Armenian intellectuals between 1857 and 1860, but only approved by the Ottoman government in 1863, was not national in an Ottoman sense, but it was supposed to be applicable wherever Armenians lived in the Ottoman lands. It is a very interesting document, because it seems to be the earliest example of an official regulation that reflects liberal European ideas on popular representation. Within the

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Armenian community, it considerably strengthened the position of the lay bourgeoisie vis-à-vis that of the clergy (KRIKORIAN 1977, 1-17).

The members of the Ottoman Parliaments of 1876-78 were chosen through indirect elections. The electoral law was broadened in that it gave the franchise to all citizens but except for some popular participation in Istanbul, there appears to have been extremely little interest among the population. This is, of course, not surprising. The electors who chose the actual deputies were for the most part members of local administrative councils. Robert DEVEREUX has concluded that the elections for the most part were quite fair in that there was no pressure from the government, and as a result "The most remarkable aspect of Midhat's Parliament is, in fact, that despite the method of their election the deputies proved themselves to be quite representative" (DEVEREUX 1963, 127). The main aspect in which the Parliament was not representative of the total population was that in order to impress the European powers, non-Muslims were considerably over-represented: the European provinces, mostly Christian, had one representative for each 82,822 males (44 seats), the Jews one for 18,750 (4 seats), the Muslims one for 133,367 (71 seats) (WEIKER 1992, 126). There was also a Chamber of Notables (Meclis-i Ayan) appointed directly by the Sultan. Unfortunately, of course, the Ottoman Parliament was very limited in its functions, and was prorogued in 1878 by Sultan Abdiilhamid, meeting again only at the opening of the Young Turk period in 1908. But the concept of elected and representative policy-making had been established and legitimized. One interesting episode in the history of the second constitutional period, was when the two chambers of the Ottoman Parliament sat together in San Stefano (modern-day Yeçilkôy) as a National Assembly (Millet meclisi) when the anticonstitutional rebels had Istanbul in their grip in April 1909 (AKÇÎN 1970, 176185). This can be regarded as a precedent for the meeting of another, and much better known, national assembly in exile, when the capital was in the hands of the enemy, that in Ankara in April 1920. During the Young Turk period there were several elections (in 1908, 1912 and 1914), now with political parties. For various reasons, though, they were not fully competitive, since the field was almost completely controlled by the Committee of Union and Progress (Ittihad ve Terakki Cemiyeti), which had a double identity: on the one hand it was a closed and secretive society, on the other its parliamentary representatives constituted a political party. Several other parties did emerge, but they were for the most part too small or feeble, and/or they were organized too late to effectively contest the elections (SHAW and SHAW 1977, 276-8; TUNAYA 1952).

In terms of representativity it is of note that the 288 CUP deputies (out of 289 in the Parliament as a whole) represented the millets (confessional communities) in proportion to their actual population: the Turks gained a bare majority of 147 seats, the Arabs 60, the Albanians 27, the Greeks 26, the Armenians 14, the Slavs 10, the Jews 4 (SHAW and SHAW 1977, 278). The 1912 election was equally controlled by the CUP, which had the advantage of nationwide organization and the ability to control application of the press and assembly laws (ibid., 291). The election was "so well prepared and conducted that, out of a total of 275, only six opposition

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members managed to slip through into the chamber. The election is known in Turkish history as the 'big stick election' (LEWIS 1961, 218). Because of domestic political conflicts as well as preoccupation with the World War, the next election was not held until 1919. By that time the nationalists, most of whom were former cadres of the CUP, controlled enough of Anatolia to be able to win a majority of the seats, and when the parliament met in Istanbul in January 1920, its most notable action was to adopt National Pact which put forth the nationalists' demands for regaining full independence. The Republic Momentum had already shifted out of Istanbul, however, and to a body known as the Representative Committee of the Society for the Defense of Rights of Anatolia and Rumelia which Mustafa Kemal had established. This organization held its first congress in Sivas in September 1919. This was a very small get-together (38 people at most), whose representative character was entirely self-proclaimed and in fact very dubious indeed. When Parliament was closed in March 1920, the Representative Committee invited delegates to a National Assembly both from the provinces and from Istanbul. Each province which was able was to send three delegates "who had the confidence of the nation" (ZÜRCHER 1993, 156). In 1919 the Committee held congresses in Erzurum in July and in Sivas in September. Membership was also offered to all those members of the Istanbul parliament who were able to escape from the capital, which was under allied occupation, and 92 of those deputies joined the 232 who had been elected by local branches of the society at the opening meeting of the First Grand National Assembly (Büyük Millet Meclisi) on April 23, 1920 (ZÜRCHER 1993, 158). The Second Assembly, elected in August 1923, proclaimed the Turkish Republic that October, and elections have been held faithfully ever since. In the single-party period they took place in 1927, 1931, 1935, 1939 and 1943. Later they were somewhat more irregular because of short postponements following the military interventions of 1960 and 1980, and because several governments took advantage of the provision of the Constitution for moving them ahead of their normal schedule. Until 1931 there was universal male franchise for persons over age 18. In that year the voting age was raised to 22, and the franchise was extended to women (who had gained voting rights in municipal elections in 1930). In 1995 the voting age was again reduced to 18. An important matter in discussing representative institutions is their autonomy from the executive branch of government. In the Atatürk years the Assembly was strictly controlled by the President. During his lifetime there were only three challenges to his rule and to that of his political organization. Two of these challenges involved elections. In 1922 a group of prominent deputies formed the Second Group of the Defense of Rights Society to protest his domination of that structure as well as some of his policies. Atatürk was able to make sure that none were successful in the 1923 election (SHAW and SHAW 1977, 362, 380; ZÜRCHER

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1993, 166). In 1924, for similar reasons and to challenge the rapidly growing domination of Atatürk's Republican People's Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi), other former leaders of the Defence of Rights Society organized the Progressive Republican Party (Terrakiperver Cumhuriyet Firkasi). It was dissolved in 1925 after allegations that its activity had the effect of stirring up anti-secularist opposition (ZÜRCHER 1991). The third challenge was different. In 1930 the Free Republican Party (Serbest Cumhuriyet Firkasi), an opposition called into being by Atatürk himself, ran in local elections. The prospect of checking the RPP stirred the country, and there seems little doubt that had it not been for a great deal of electoral fraud by the RPP the opposition would have scored decisive victories in many more places than the thirty districts in which it prevailed. There are no reliable data on voter turn-out, but there is no doubt that there was a great deal of excitement (WEIKER 1973). Among other things the events of the Free Party's short history raised fears that anti-Republic and anti-secularist sentiment was still only slightly below the surface, and shortly after the elections the fledgling opposition agreed to dissolve itself. During the following years there were many hints from Atatürk that the return to single-party politics was to be only temporary, however, and the period until his death in 1 9 3 8 has been described as one of 'political tutelage' (WEIKER 1973). Among the President's responses was that in the Assembly election of 1931 the RPP refrained from nominating candidates in thirty constituencies so that persons who would be identified as 'independent deputies' could run. Only eighteen were elected, voters apparently being reluctant to openly defy the ruling party, and although those who did enter the Assembly often acted as vigorous critics, there was never any illusion that they caused the Assembly to be to any degree autonomous. There is little doubt that the memory of the Free Party episode remained one factor in the minds of many Turks who looked forward to a new liberalization of politics, which came in 1946 (WEIKER 1973; KARPAT 1959). In that year, the opening of the multi-party period, the RPP transparently called an election before the fledgling opposition Democratic Party had time to organize. There were also reports of 'massive vote-rigging' (ZÜRCHER 1993, 222). As a result the DP won only 62 of 465 seats. By 1950, after vigorous debates, these possibilities had been reduced by putting the election machinery under judicial control and by the replacement of the 'open voting, secret counting' procedure by its opposite. Those changes were only in small part responsible for the 1950 election results, however, in which the DP routed the RPP by winning 53.3% of the popular vote, and because of the majority system of the election law in which the winning party in each province received all of that province's deputies, the DP received 396 out of the 487 Assembly seats. In only two of the subsequent elections of the multi-party era, 1954 and 1957, were there reports of significant fraud. Like the situations of 1931 and 1946, they were again held in circumstances where one party had overwhelming power. In both years, but especially in the latter, the Democrats feared defeat and became

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desperate, though it was likely that in both years they would have continued in power, albeit in 1957 by a smaller margin. It is notable that when the armed forces took over the government in 1960 they wanted to make some major changes in the political structure, but they also took pains to follow the tradition of using representative institutions, so that in 1961 they convened a Constituent Assembly "composed of representatives of many economic, professional, and other private organizations as well as the political parties" (WEIKER 1963, 23), and this body played a very large role in drafting the new Constitution and electoral law. Important constitutional changes affecting the role of the Assembly were made by the armed forces following both their 1960 and 1980 interventions. The most important change under the new Constitution of 1961 was the addition of checks and balances by the creation of a Senate, by giving the Constitutional Court powers of judicial review, and by the introduction of proportional representation (see below). The Senate was abolished in the 1982 constitution of the Third Republic following the military intervention of 1980. For the constitution of the Third Republic of 1982, the two most important changes affecting the role of the Assembly were strengthening the powers of the Presidency, and attempting to reduce the fragmentation of political parties in the Assembly. To effect the latter, among the key provisions of the new electoral law was the introduction of the concept of a threshold, requiring that a party receive a minimum of 10% of the vote both in the electoral district (which mostly coincides with a province) and nationwide to qualify for seating any deputies at all in the Assembly. This threshold is among the highest, if not the highest in the world (details in ERGUDER and HOFFERBERT 1988, 83). In the 1983 election this worked by fiat, in that only three parties were 'licensed' by the military government to participate. By 1991 the number of parties in the Assembly had risen to five, however, the same number in 1995, and in 1995 issues of representativity could be considered to have been raised when several other parties which received a substantial number of votes failed to qualify for any Assembly seats at all. On the basis of this electoral history we can now turn to some important issues of representativity. Voting participation Voting participation in Turkey has often been among the highest in democracies around the world. In addition to national elections for the Assembly (and for the Senate between 1961 and 1980), there have been numerous local elections, and three national referenda, (in 1960 and 1982 on the new Constitutions, one in 1987 on allowing pre-1980 politicians to become active again and one in 1988 on amending the constitution to change the dates of local elections). Available figures are presented in Table 1.

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TABLE 1 : Voting participation in the multi-party period. A. Participation in National Assembly elections 89.3% 86.6% 76.6% 81.4% 71.3% 64.3% 66.8% 72.4% 92.3% 93.3% 87.1% 85.2% 78.9%

1950 1954 1957 1961 1965 1969 1973 1977 1983 1987 1991 1995 2002 B. Participation in Senate elections 1961: 1964: 1966 1968 1973 1975 1977 1979

81.4% 60.2% 56.2% 66.3% 65.3% 58.4% 73.8% 70.5% C. Participation in local elections

General provincial councils mayors of large cities All mayors Municipal councils

1963

1968

1973

1977 1984

1989

77.6 85.4

65.7

61.7

60.4 91.1 72.5

81.5

69.3 68.4

59.4 57.6

56.0 54.9

53.1 85.6 51.3 85.6

78.0 78.0

Sources: Statistical Yearbooks. D. Participation in referenda 1960: 1982:

81.2% voting compulsory

The general pattern, displayed in Figure 1, shows four fairly distinct periods: (1) 1950 and 1954 when turn-out was very high; (2) 1957-65, when it declined

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slightly; (3) a greater decline in all types of elections in 1966-75; (4) renewed high participation since 1977. In 2002 there was quite a sudden decline to pre-1980 levels. Perhaps the most striking thing is that despite the variations, participation has most often been quite high, when compared to other democratic countries and that in each period it has been consistent for all types of elections. There are several possible explanations for these patterns. Period 1 was when competitive elections were a novelty, and when there was great voter determination to choose more conservative social policies and to punish the RPP for some of its actions when it ruled as a single party. In Period 2 some of the effect of both these factors had probably worn off. Period 3 was one in which competition among several viable parties was at its height (partly as a result of the new proportional representation system), which may have caused some confusion for voters, when the frequency of elections may have been too great (something which is reported as affecting voter participation in some other countries), and when, despite the fact that there were some major economic problems, solutions offered by the various political parties and frequently shifting coalitions were far from effective. The 1971 armed forces 'coup by memorandum' in which they gave the government an ultimatum to improve its performance had only temporary effect. Renewed high participation in Period 4 has probably been due to several factors. One is certainly the compulsory voting requirement of the 1982 constitution. More important has been that the years since 1977 have been ones of steadily heightening conflicts among the political parties, years of increasingly important social and economic controversies, of increasing competition among several parties within each of the two general center-right and center-left blocs, and of the presence of seemingly viable radical parties on the right (which proved themselves in the 1995 and 1999 elections). It is probably true to say that the relatively steep decline in voter participation in the 2002 elections (back to pre-1980 levels, in fact) was due in the first place to a widely reported revulsion from the political establishment and party politics as such. It is likely that there are also some more general factors. One is Frank TACHAU's finding in the less-developed eastern regions of considerably greater fluctuation in voting patterns and lower levels of support for established parties "suggests that the influence of individual notable personalities still outweighs that of institutionalized parties in these regions". (TACHAU et al. 1973, 563). This idea was later elaborated by Tachau and Ergun Ozbudun in the terms that rural voters were often more 'voted' than 'voting' (OZBUDUN and TACHAU 1975; OZBUDUN 1976, esp. chaps. 5, 7). Factors accounting for the decline in overall national participation in subsequent years could thus include increased urbanization, and that the influence of agas and local notables in rural areas has declined over the years so that it was no longer possible for those local elites to stimulate large turnouts. Another hypothesis is that in many provinces there was really relatively little competition, with many areas dominated by a party controlled by local leaders so that it was often more the vehicle of those leaders than it was a programmatic party tied closely to a national organization or program (On the 1961, 1965 and 1969

Representative bodies in Turkey

elections see OZBUDUN additional research.

1976,

tables

4.4, 4.5, 4.6).

125

All of these possibilities warrant

The relationship of votes and assembly seats In addition to electoral laws which try to control the entry of political parties into the legislature, as discussed above, another important issue of representativity is the balance between the votes a party receives and the number of its seats in the Assembly. There is no doubt that a winner- take-all system or its variants almost everywhere results in significantly greater distortion than under proportional representation, and this has been clearly illustrated in Turkey. In the early years of the multi-party period the winner-take-all provision of the electoral law was combined with the use of provinces as constituencies so that the winning party in each province received all of that province's assembly seats. This resulted in major differences between a party's popular votes and their seats in the Assembly, as shown in Table 2. In 1964 the electoral law was changed to include some proportional representation features (On the system's complexities see ERGUDER and HOFFERBERT 1 9 8 8 , 8 3 ; TURAN 1 9 9 4 , 4 9 ) , which together with the emergence of several new parties resulted in a considerable improvement. The post-1980 electoral system with its provincial and national thresholds was already very favorable to the biggest parties, but in 1986 and 1987 the rules were again changed ruling Motherland Party (ANAP) made further changes designed to favor them. TABLE 2: Percentages of votes and seats. A. Assembly 1950

1954

1957

1961

1965

DP RPP RPNP

53.5 % of votes

83.5 % of seats

40.0%

14.4%

3.3%

0.2%

DP RPP

56.6%

91.8%

35.3%

5.6%

DP RPP RNP FP

47.9%

69.5%

41.0%

29.2%

7.7%

0.4%

3.8%

0.4%

JP RPP RPNP NTP

34.8%

35.1%

36.7%

38.4%

14.0%

12.0%

13.7%

14.5%

JP RPP Var Left

52.9%

53.3%

28.8%

29.8%

15.4%

13.8% (minor personalistic) 3.1% (mainly Workers Party)

3.0%

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Walter F. Weiker

1969

JP RPP NAP Var. Left

46.5% 27.4% 3.2% 17.6% 5.5%

56.3% 31.8% 2.2% 8.9% 2.2%

1973

JP RPP NSP NAP Var.

29.7% 33.3% 11.8% 3.4% 21.8%

33.1% 41.4% 10.7% 0.7% 14.4%

1977

JP RPP NSP NAP Var.

36.9% 41.4% 8.6% 6.4% 6.2%

42.0% 47.3% 5.3% 3.6% 1.4%

1983

MP PP JVDP

45.6% 30.8% 23.6%

52.8% 29.3% 17.8%

1987

MP SPP TPP DLP

36.3% 24.8% 23.9% 11.0%

65.2% 21.7% 13.0% 1.6%

1991

MP SPP TPP DLP WP

23.9% 20.7% 27.3% $$ 16.6%

25.6% 19.6% 39.6%

1995

MP RPP 7PP DLP WP

19.6% 10.7% 19.2% 10.7% 21.4%

24.5% 9.1% 24.0% 13.6% 28.7%

1999

MP TPP DLP VP NAP

13.2% 12.0% 22.2% 15.4% 18.0%

15.7% 15.7% 25.2% 20.5% 23.9%

2002

JDP RPP

34.4% 19.4%

66.0% 34.0%

13.3% (with M4P)

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B. Senate. (Abolished in the Constitution of 1982). 1961, when full Senate (150 members) was elected: JP RPP NTP RPNP

34% of votes 35% 13% 13%

47% of seats 24% 18% 11%

1964 (1/3 of Senate (50 seats) up for election: JP RPP

49.00% of votes, 41.00%

62.00% of seats. 38.00%

1966 (52 seats up for election): JP RPP NTP TIP NP RPNP

55.00% of votes, 29.00% 2.2% 3.8% 5.1% 1.9%

67.00% of seats 25.00% 1.9% 1.9% 1.9% 1.9%

1968 (55 seats up for election) JP RPP RRP NP (adapted

46.00% of votes, 25.00% 7.9% 5.6% f r o m TURAN [ 1 9 9 4 ] ,

p.

72.00% of seats 25.00% 1.9% 1.9%

5 5 , ERGUDER and HOFFERBERT [ 1 9 8 8 ] ,

p.

91,

and

Statistic

Yearbooks). Note: Percentages may not always add to 100% because of votes and seats for independents.

Representativeness and the party system One measure of representativity is whether the votes cast actually have a result in the sense that the voters are represented in parliament. The percentage of votes lost under the rules of the system, or subsequently redistributed among other parties, whose ideas may be wholly opposed to those of the voters whose votes are being redistributed, had a negative effect on the degree of representativity and may ultimately affect the legitimacy of the system. The elections between 1950 and 1980 show that Turkey had an excellent record in this respect. The share of the vote held collectively by the parties represented in parliament was never lower than 90 percent and almost always above 95 percent, so relatively few votes were lost. This situation continued in the eighties under the new election regime, but things started to change by the early nineties. The percentage of the vote held by the parties in the assembly went down continuously: 88.5 percent in 1191, 81.6 in 1995, 80.8 in 1999 and a dramatic 53.8 in 2002. In other words: after the

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November 2002 elections, almost half of the Turkish electorate was unrepresented in parliament by the parties of its choice. The reason is without doubt the fragmentation of the political party system, both on the left and on the right. The post-1980 was designed for a system with a few large parties (that is why the 1983 election produced an assembly in which the parties shared 100% of the vote). Once fragmentation set in, the thresholds built into the system began to have a detrimental effect. Another aspect of representativity is coming to executive power, i.e. forming governments. In regard to this, two phenomena can be identified which can lead to situations in which voter preferences may not be accurately reflected. On a number of occasions there have simultaneously existed several parties with substantially similar ideologies and programs, suggesting that they were frequently organizations which represented to some degree particular groups (as distinct from social classes) and/or that they were the vehicles of followers of particular local or regional leaders and local notables. As a result, there have been at times somewhat strange, often opportunistic coalitions, though on the representation criterion not all these have necessarily been negative. There are several examples. In 1974 there was a 'marriage of convenience' between the Republican People's Party led by Biilent Ecevit, and the religionbased National Salvation Party led by Necmettin Erbakan. It was largely the product of the inability of the center-right parties to work together, those parties being to a considerable extent vehicles for particular leaders and factions rather than focusing primarily on programs and ideologies. It lasted only a short time and was not productive. The coalition of the Islamist Welfare Party with the True Path Party in 1996-1997 and that of Ecevit's Democratic Left Party with the ultranationalists of the NAP in 1999-2002 are other examples of this phenomenon. A second instance in which essentially personality clashes have hindered parties with largely similar programs from wielding the strength of that block of public opinion is the fragmentation of social democratic parties in the 1990s. In 1983 the left was represented by the Populist Party, which had been originally "designed by the National Security Council as a loyal opposition" (MANGO, Social Democratic Party, 171). It later merged with the most successful of the social, democratic parties, the Social Democrat Party of Erdal inonii, but others soon sprang up. They included the Democratic Left Party, led by former RPP prime minister Biilent Ecevit, and the revived RPP under Deniz Baykal. It was perhaps fortunate for the leftist parties that simultaneously the center-right parties were unable to come together despite their being the majority, so that in 1991 the True Path Party formed a coalition with the SDPP. This time the combination was more fruitful, and the coalition which lasted until the 1995 election did succeed in bringing representation of important sectors voter opinion together and moderating both sides. A third example is the saga which took place in 1996. Since 1983 there have been two center-right parties, the Motherland Party (ANAP) and the True Path Party (Dogru Yol Partisi), which have essentially similar programs but which are fierce competitors on largely personal bases. In 1995 Turkey was faced with the election result in which the party which received the largest vote, albeit by a very

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small margin (see Table 2) was the Islamist Welfare Party (Refah Partisi) led by veteran politician Necmettin Erbakan. President Siileyman Demirel, in conformance with standard practice in a parliamentary system, invited Erbakan to be the first to attempt to form a government. After he failed to persuade any of the 'secular' parties to enter into a coalition with him, in March the two right-wing parties were more successful. But the MP-TPP combination lasted only until June before the two party leaders, Mesut Yilmaz and Tansu (filler respectively, proved totally unable to work together. It was widely reported that the main cause of the failure was the bitter personal enmity between the two leaders. The MP-TPP coalition was succeeded in July by one between the Welfare and True Path Parties, a less likely partnership on the basis of common programs. But it might also be argued, ironically, that in terms of 'representativity' this combination of the wishes of religiously-oriented voters and those 40% who had voted for a conservative social and economic program by casting their ballots for either the MP or the TPP is not inappropriate. Looked at in another way, one can say that the governments of Menderes formed in 1950 and 1954 were supported by a majority of the popular vote, while his last (1957) was supported only by a plurality, tnonii's coalition cabinets of the early sixties as well as Demirel's 1965 cabinet again were supported by a majority of the vote, while his 1969 cabinet and the Ecevit-Erbakan coalition of 1973 were not. The Nationalist Front coalitions of the late seventies (just) had a majority of the popular vote, but Turgut Ozal after 1983 never had more than a plurality. In recent years, the only cabinet to have been supported by a majority was the Ecevit cabinet, which ruled the country from 1999 to 2002 (although its support had been eroded dramatically in the end). Of the eighteen cabinets since 1950 only eight were based on a majority of the popular vote, though all obviously had the support of a majority in the Assembly in their time. The degree to which the electorate is represented in the National Assembly has varied a great deal over time. In the period of the second republican constitution, between 1961 and 1980. Conclusion Turkey's record of using elections as means of maintaining connections between voters and government, of achieving, in most periods, high levels of participation, and of making arrangements for the results which on the whole reflect the wishes of voters accurately, is good. The belief that elections are important has existed for well over a century, and became rooted in Turkish political culture earlier than in almost any country other than the 'developed' states of the west, and it is notable that it has been important to the military regimes which interfered in Turkish politics by ousting civilian governments, as well as to political parties which on several occasions might have been tempted to stay in power by other means, only to be eventually rebuffed by the voters. This record is certainly one factor in maintaining the legitimacy of Turkish governments, and it is a lesson which is to be recommended to other countries.

Ottoman political parties, 1908-1922 SiNA AK§IN The Committee of Union and Progress (Osmanli ittihat ve Terakki Cemiyeti): The party of the period 1908-1918 was the Party of Union and Progress, or the Committee of Union and Progress (CUP), as it is widely referred to. It was the organization which engineered the Constitutional Revolution of 1908. It obliged the Ottoman Sultan Abdiilhamit II (1876-1909) to resuscitate the short-lived Constitution which had been proclaimed in 1876. That attempt to establish a democratic monarchy had failed amidst the turmoil of the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877-1878. The main explanation for that failure was the fact that it had been proclaimed to a certain extent to ward off European intervention in the Balkan crisis of the day. Otherwise, Abdiilhamit II, like all the Ottoman sultans before and after him, had no interest whatsoever in democracy. On the other hand, the people who championed the Constitution and persuaded the Sultan to proclaim it, were a handful of journalists and politicians. The idea that a constitutional regime might be a cure for the Empire's problems had first been put forward by Mustafa Fazil Pa§a in 1867. The Young Ottoman Society, founded that same year in Paris, had a total of eight members, including himself. The most prominent members were Namik Kemal, Ali Suavi and Ziya Bey (later Pa§a). Most of them were journalistbureaucrats and during the next few years they published a number of journals in Western Europe which tried to popularize democratic ideas. The fact that among the Moslem population literacy was probably less than 5% was only one of the reasons why the diffusion of such ideas was a difficult task. Schools of higher education modeled on European examples had been operating in the Empire for a number of years, but the number of graduates was small. The bureaucracy and officer corps were still largely composed of persons who had not attended these schools. In 1876, Mithat Pa§a was a prominent politician who was in favor of a constitutional regime. He believed that a constitutional government would be able to check the profligacy of the Sultans which had resulted in the bankruptcy of the Empire's finances in 1875. A constitutional regime also had the theoretical advantage that it would (or might) prevent the intervention of the Powers on behalf of the non-Moslem peoples of the Empire, because these people would be represented in the Ottoman Parliament, where they would be able to legislate to their own advantage (TEVFiK 1973; MARDiN 1962; AK§iN 1988, 141-144). The Constitution had been proclaimed to coincide with the opening ceremony of the Conference that had been convened in Istanbul to discuss the reforms to be administered in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Bulgaria. These two provinces had been recently shaken by revolts. However, the Powers refused to be influenced by the proclamation, which they regarded as a mere device of the Ottoman government. Indeed, the Conference went ahead and drafted reforms. When the Ottoman government, headed by Mithat Pa§a, refused to accept them, the representatives of the Powers, together with their ambassadors in Istanbul, departed from the city. As

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soon as they disappeared from the scene, Abdulhamit not only dismissed Mithat, he also banished him from the country. But the Constitution had been proclaimed and Abdulhamit and his governments had no choice but to go ahead with parliamentary elections. However, defeat in the 1877-1878 War with Russia gave Abdulhamit the chance to prorogue Parliament. It is said that Russia's declaration of war was motivated to a certain extent by its hatred of constitutional regimes, especially in an 'inferior' country like the Ottoman Empire (BURNABY 1985, 335). After that, and especially after the electoral victory of Gladstone's Turcophobic Liberal Party in 1880 (there remained thus no hope of British sympathy or support), Abdulhamit slowly but surely began to install a police state which eventually reached pathological proportions. However, he very cleverly (and opportunistically) did not ever abolish the Constitution. It remained 'in the books' as a dead letter, waiting to be resuscitated the moment Abdulhamit faced a constitutional movement he could not crush. The fact that for years there was almost no reaction to Abdulhamit's police state shows how thin support for democracy was. Indeed, the beginning of organized opposition, the founding of the secret CUP in 1889 (during the first years called The Association of Ottoman Unity (îttihad-i Osmanî Cemiyetï) seems to have been motivated more by the desire to celebrate the hundreth anniversary of the French Revolution, than by a desire to actively oppose the Hamidian regime. It was founded by some students of the Military School of Medicine in Istanbul. It spread among the students of higher learning in the capital, but until 1895 its activity was limited to the reading of Namik Kemal's poetry and similar 'subversive' literature. At one point in this period, the organization, under the influence of Ahmet Riza's 1 positivism, which stood for Order and Progress, changed its name to Union and Progress. The year 1895 was of critical importance, because, the Armenian revolutionary movement, hitherto active in Eastern Anatolia, then chose to stage an uprising in Istanbul itself. The result was a bloody confrontation between Moslems and Armenians which lasted three days, the Hamidian police not interfering. It was then that the CUP became active and published two manifestos which supported Armenian grievances, but criticized their solitary action and emphasized cooperation between different religious or ethnic groups. That same year many CUP members fled to Western Europe or Egypt and the CUP drafted its first regulations. The Young Turks, as they were called in Europe, began to publish anti-Hamidian journals which were smuggled into the Empire. In 1896 and 1897, the Hamidian police aborted two attempts of the CUP to stage a coup d'état (KURAN 1 9 4 5 ; KURAN 1 9 4 8 ; TUNAYA 1 9 5 2 , 1 0 4 ) . The regulation of 1895 is very informative. One can discern there a number of characteristics that were to become the hallmark of the CUP. It declares its intention to restore the constitution and accuses the government of violating 1

Ahmet Riza had gone to Paris in 1889, where he decided to stay. He soon developed a zeal for positivism. Establishing contact with the CUP, he became its leader in Paris. When the crisis of 1895 erupted, he began to publish, in French and Turkish, the journal Me$veret. In 1908 he was elected deputy and president of the Chamber of Deputies. In later years, differences of opinion arose between Riza and the CUP, ending in complete estrangement.

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human rights, impeding Ottoman progress and exposing the country to foreign aggression. The promise to mete out the 'necessary treatment' to those who oppose the constitution seems like an indication of the CUP''s violent methods. The qualification of those who oppose the CUP as traitors to the fatherland, on the other hand, is an indication of the CUP regarding itself as the 'sacred organization' (cemiyet-i mukaddese). Thus, in the political arena, the CUP was never able to develop a pluralistic attitude that would tolerate opposition to it. Anther important point is the regulation's egalitarian attitude concerning women. In two different articles it is ordained that women, like men, can become members, having the same rights and responsibilities. Given the status of women in the Empire, which was even further diminished by Abdulhamit's regime, this attitude is truly revolutionary. Nor were these articles purely platonic. We know of at least three women who became CUP members in the years before 1908. Another article anticipates the power model of the CUP between 1908 and 1913: when the Constitution would be restored, the CUP would 'aid and protect' the government, instead of actively forming it. This is what I have called the 'supervisory power' model (denetleme iktidari) (TUNAYA 1952, 117-122; AK§iN 1987, 27-29). The CUP movement abroad experienced many ups and downs. Of some importance are the two Young Turk congresses held in Paris in 1902 and 1907. The first, organized by Prince Sabahattin, led to the division of the movement. On one side were the followers of Sabahattin who called for an armed uprising and foreign intervention, and on the other, Ahmet Riza and his followers who at that time were against these propositions. The CUP, thanks to the combined efforts of Riza, Dr. Nazim and Bahaettin §akir, was able to pull itself together and develop its organization. In 1907 Ahmet Riza organized the second congress which resulted in a call for revolutionary action. In September 1906, probably following the lead of Russia and Iran which had proclaimed constitutional regimes, a number of officers, bureaucrats and notables in Salonica founded the Ottoman Liberty Association (Osmanli Hiirriyet Cemiyeti). This organization quickly began to spread in Rumelia, especially among army officers who were graduates of the War College. A year later this organization merged with the CUP organization in Paris under the latter's name. The CUP had gained such strength in Rumelia that on July 23, 1908, it was able to 'proclaim liberty' in most of the major cities and towns of the region. This fait accompli forced Abdiilhamit to do likewise and order parliamentary elections. The second constitutional period had begun. It was a momentous date which I think put the Turkish people irreversibly on the tracks of modern times (KURAN 1948, 191226; TUNAYA 1952, 113-114).

Thus the CUP came to power, but until 1913 none of the prime ministers were CUP members, and ministers who were CUP members were in the minority. However, in conformity with the aforementioned 'supervisory power' model, it was able to direct — except for a short interval — the governments to do or not to do certain things. It was a partial coming to power. Generally, CUP members carried five characteristics. 1) They were young. (That is why they had trouble assuming full power.) 2) They belonged to the civilian or military bureaucracy. 3)

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They had a western-style education. 4) Ethnically, they were Turkish or, in the long run, they tended to consider themselves Turkish (which comes to the same thing). 5) They had a bourgeois ideology, which means that they aimed at the construction of a modern, bourgeois, capitalist society, based on the West European model. This meant the creation of a Turkish bourgeois class, which before 1908 was nearly non-existent (AK§iN 1987, 78-80). The CUP was a revolutionary organization. The creation of a capitalist class, of capitalism was a revolutionary aim, which presupposed the destruction or at least the curtailment of the power of the feudal class, of feudalism. The main institution of feudalism was the Palace. On 13 April 1909 (the event of March 31st, 1325, by the Rumi calendar), there was a bloody counter-revolution in Istanbul which in one stroke swept away all the influence of the CUP in the capital. Abdiilhamit did not engineer the plot, but the political vacuum it created inevitably brought the former tyrant to the forefront. The 'Army of Operation' (Hareket Ordusu) which marched against Istanbul and put down the rebellion, reinstated the CUP with a vengeance. It deposed Abdiilhamit, who was replaced by Mehmet V (Re§at), an amiable old gentleman, ready to do almost everything that the CUP demanded. The weak personality of Re§at strengthened the hand of the CUP. The CUP was now able to partly build the legal infrastructure of a modern society. For instance, they put an end to white slavery. Before the counter-revolution, they had eliminated most, if not all of the ranker (non-educated) officers in the army and were proceeding to do the same thing in the civilian bureaucracy. Thus, the CUP represented the westernstyle educated stratum in Turkish society. Re§at lived until nearly the end of World War /, when he was replaced by Mehmet VI (Vahdettin) who was a sultan of the Abdiilhamit type (AK§iN 1970). An indication of the revolutionary character of the CUP is the secrecy which shrouded its proceedings. The general congresses of the CUP which were held in Salonica in the years 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911 were all closed to the public. It is also remarkable that the Central Committee elected by the General Congress of 1908 was kept a secret. But because the public might feel frustrated at such secrecy by the party 'in power', the CUP designated two handsome 'Heroes of Liberty'. One was Enver, who was to be an important leader. The other was Niyazi, who could hardly be considered an influential personality in the CUP. Another revolutionary characteristic of the CUP was its use of terrorism. In 1908 they assassinated an agent of Abdiilhamit. In each of the years 1909, 1910, 1911 they assassinated a journalist of the opposition. The CUP perhaps felt that since it was to carry out a revolution in a backward society, relying for this purpose on the very slender political base of the educated, it needed these devices to be able to push through its policies. Another important factor conditioning the behavior of the CUP was the fact that during the years 1908-1912 it could not control the Chamber of Deputies in spite of an overwhelming nominal majority. Before the advent of Liberty, the CUP organization in Rumelia had been built up by revolutionary persons. Such a process had not been at work in the rest of the Empire, with the result that in those regions (Anatolia, the Arab provinces) the CUP organization was in many cases

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formed by non-revolutionary, opportunistic elements. Likewise, in the same regions, the CUP did not have the time or the means to properly screen its candidates during the 1908 elections. The result was that, in spite of the CUP's overwhelming majority, most of the deputies lacked many of the five characteristics of CUP members enumerated above. From the point of view of the CUP, therefore, they were unreliable. For this reason, in the early years the CUP was careful not to involve the deputies in the CUP organization. This organization, which was called The Ottoman Society of Union and Progress (Osmanli ittihat ve Terakki Cemiyeti) had 'clubs' in the cities and towns of the Empire. These clubs functioned mainly as cultural centers, as centers of enlightenment and education. Being a member of the CUP was a somewhat exclusive thing, given the general backwardness of education, and it meant being a member of this organization. The Party of Union and Progress (ittihat ve Terakki Firkasi) was nothing else but the group or caucus formed by CUP deputies in Parliament, there was no ' UP Party', but only the UP Society. In the 1908 regulations, there was no stipulation about the participation of CUP deputies as such in the yearly General Congress of the UP Society. The 1909 regulations stipulated a participation of only three deputies, representing the 'Party' in the Chamber, in the General Congress. The 1911 regulations stipulated a one-tenth representation for CUP deputies and senators. Only in 1913 was the CUP sure enough of its deputies and senators to allow all of them to participate in the General Congress. At the same time, the CUP dropped the name 'Association' and officially became a 'Party' (firka) (AK§iN 1987, 149163). Since it aimed at creating Turkish capitalism, the CUP was active in the economic sphere. The creation of legal frameworks and incentives for economic and civil organizations was one aspect. Another was the aspect of active encouragement or participation. They enacted legislation to encourage industrial investments. A number of CUP members considered it a political duty to set up corporations or banks. The years of World War I witnessed a great development of the Turkish capitalist class. The deportation of Greeks from Eastern Thrace and Western Anatolia, and the transfer of Armenians from Eastern and Central Anatolia created a void of economic skills which, as far as possible, had to be filled by Moslems. Because of the necessities of war, railway cars were very scarce and so those who were allocated cars made large profits. The CUP saw to it that Moslem traders were preferred (TOPRAK 1982). Another thing that distinguished the CUP from 'normal' parties was the fact that military officers could become members. Thus the organization had a military wing and a civilian wing. Most prominent in the military wing was Enver (Pa§a), who, during the War became the leader of the military wing (he was also Minister of War). In competition with Enver we have Cemal (Pa§a) and Mustafa Kemal. The civilian wing of the CUP included persons like Talat (Pa§a), Cavit, Mithat §ukrii and Kara Kemal. Talat was to emerge as the leader of the civilian wing. The power relationship between the two wings is an interesting question. After the suppression of the counter-revolution of 1909, the commander of the Army of Operation, Mahmut §evket Pa§a, acquired great influence and soon became

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Minister of War. Though never a member of the CUP, he became a sort of 'Big Brother' for the youngsters that formed the CUP. Being a military officer, there is no doubt that the influence of Mahmut Çevket strengthened the position of the military wing vis-à-vis the civilian wing. During the war years, it was natural that the military wing should increase its influence. Yet despite Mamut Çevket and war conditions, the civilian wing of the CUP never lost its influence. This was due to the fact that the CUP officers were highly conscious that economic development, which was in the civilian domain, was of vital importance for the Empire. Thus, the year that Enver became War Minister, the share of this Ministry in the general budget was only 17.6%, compared with 24.8% when Mahmut Çevket was minister (ESATLI 1975, 176-198).

Another reason for the fact that the civilian wing did not lose its influence was that the CUP, throughout its history, practiced the principle of collective leadership (until 1913, the CUP did not have the position of president. The highest position was that of Secretary-General). Even during the War, it appears that the Central Committee (Merkez-i Umumî) of the CUP continued to play a central role in the party. The weight exercised by the civilian wing is attested by the fact that the two Grand Viziers of the CUP, Sait Halim and Talât, were both civilians. On the other hand, Enver and Talât rose in prominence, but because of the functioning of the principle of collective leadership, their position can be considered that of first among equals. As far as can be ascertained, the CUP practiced internal democracy, not only at the level of the Central Committee, but at all levels. The CUP was a party aiming at the realization of a bourgeois-democratic revolution in the Empire. In this framework, it had two main adversaries. One was the Palace: as far as is known, no one in the Ottoman dynasty had any sympathy for a constitutional regime. Abdulhamit restored the constitution because he was forced to do so. I think that most probably he would have seized the opportunity to return to absolutism if it had been presented to him. The CUP was lucky in the person of Reçat. Vahdettin's, whose attitude towards the democratic-nationalist movement led by Mustafa Kemal showed he was following in Abdulhamit's footsteps. The Ci/P's other main adversary was the Entente (Russia, England and France) and, in a more general sense, European imperialism. These forces watched with apprehension lest the CUP's claim to modernize and resuscitate the Empire should be realized. They saw the Empire as 'the sick man of Europe', a half-independent country whose territories would surely — sooner or later — be divided between the Powers. The modernization of the Empire would mean an end to economic exploitation by Europe and the dreams of partition. What is worse, the success of the CUP would be a very 'bad' example for the colonies. If the Turks could succeed, why shouldn't they? Of course the CUP made many mistakes, but the generally virulent hostility of the French and British press, and the fact that Italy, in its ultimatum just before invading Tripoli, specifically targeted the CUP (1911) cannot be explained by those mistakes. It is interesting that when the CUP government proclaimed the abolition of the capitulations in September 1914, the representatives of the Powers in Istanbul forgot the 'Great War' which had begun

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between them. They got together and protested with identical notes. If one remembers that one month previously Germany had signed a secret treaty of military alliance with the same government, the situation becomes even more remarkable (BAYUR 1983; iNAL 1982, 1776-1781, 1083-1086).

In conclusion, the CUP is the political party which restored the constitution in 1908 and set the Ottoman Empire (including Turkey) on the path of modernity. On the other hand, it practiced terrorism, was intolerant of political opposition, tried methods of assimilation on non-Turkish Moslems (but eventually — too late — changed this policy). The transfer of the Armenian population, for which the CUP was responsible, is a great tragedy. Given the Armenian revolt in time of war, the transfer of at least part of the Armenians to Iraq and Syria was probably inevitable. But it should have been less extensive and much better policed. However, Armenian figures for the number of dead are grossly exaggerated and charges of genocide remain unproven. The British, who for nearly five years occupied Istanbul and who were very keen to prove such charges, would have done so if such documents had ever existed (GURUN 1983c; DADRIAN 1995a; AK§iN 1986). The formal end of the CUP came with the defeat of the Empire. Two days after the signature of the Mudros Armistice, the CUP General Congress met for the last time (November 1, 1918). It decided to dissolve the CUP and to create a new party, the Party of Renovation (Teceddtit Firkasi). The Party was to abandon the Ci/P's revolutionary mission. Also, those implicated in abuses committed during the War were to be excluded. An indication of the 'new look' of the Party was the fact that its Central Committee was composed entirely of deputies and included an Armenian, a Greek, and a Jew. The leader of the Party was Cavit, the CUP's favorite finance minister and known for his pro-Entente leanings. A little earlier, in October 1918, Fethi (Okyar), then a CUP deputy, joined with a number of other CUP deputies to form the Ottoman Liberal People's Party (Hurriyetperver Avam Firkasi). This Party, as well as the Party of Renovation were closed down on May 6, 1919, because they were considered offshoots of the CUP (TUNAYA 1952, 412-414, 406-407). The Liberal Union (.Ahrar Firkasi): Generally speaking, one can say that in the period 1908-1918, the parties outside the CUP were created in reaction to the CUP. The Liberal Union is a case in point. It was founded on September 14, 1908 by the followers of Prince Sabahattin. Sabahattin was a nephew (sister's son) of Abdulhamit. His father had in 1899 fled to Europe with his two sons. Until then, Ahmet Riza had been the political and intellectual leader of the Young Turks in Europe. Sabahattin now became his rival. Parallel to Riza's interest in Auguste Comte and positivism, he developed an interest in the ideas of Edmond Demolins, which he thought would be a cure to the Empire's ills. Demolins, in his book on the superiority of the Anglo-Saxons, explained this superiority in terms of an education which fostered private initiative and, as an important by-product, decentralisation. With the advent of Liberty, Sabahattin's Paris organization merged with the CUP. However, very soon after, the founding of the Liberal Union indicated that Sabahattin had again parted ways. He never officially assumed the Union's leadership, but the position of president was tellingly left

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vacant. During the 1908 elections, the Union was the party in opposition to the CUP, but it made a very poor showing. This was due to the very widespread and effective organization of the CUP and the latter's convincing propaganda that if Moslems should divide their votes, the result would be electoral success for the non-Moslem communities which voted en bloc. With the counter-revolution of 1909, in which the Liberal Union seemed to be implicated, the Union faded into the background, until it finally merged with Freedom and Accord (FA). The Union's program was more liberal and therefore more to the left than that of the CUP. The Union emphasized human rights, called for the jury system in courts, for the election of senators (instead of appointment by the Sultan), for direct elections (instead of the voters electing electors who would in turn get together to elect the deputies) (TUNAYA 1952, 239-254). The Ottoman Democratic Party (Osmanli Demokrat Firkasi or Firka-i ibad): This Party was founded by ibrahim Temo and Abdullah Cevdet, two of the CUP's original founders, on February 6, 1909. From Temo's memoirs one gathers that the aim of the Party's founders was to create, for the sake of democracy, a 'loyal opposition' to the CUP, which would offer constructive criticism from a more leftist position. This leftism seems apparent from the presence of an industrial worker among the founders and articles in its regulations concerning capitalist exploitation. Despite its well-intentioned approach, the Party met with little sympathy from the CUP, which tried to suppress it. At the end of 1910, Temo left the country in disappointment to settle in Romania. Eventually the Party joined FA (TUNAYA 1952, 254-261). The Moderate Liberal Party (Mutedil Hiirriyetperveran Firkasi or Mutedil Liberaller): This party was founded on November 14, 1909 by Arab and Albanian deputies. Its president was ismail Kemal, Albanian deputy of Berat. It defended a frankly feudal position. According to its regulations, backward areas should be gradually introduced to civilization. Provincial assemblies in those areas should be empowered to enact special legislation for this purpose. The Party had little chance to create a grass-roots organization because of the repressive attitude of the CUP and martial law in Istanbul, which was an almost continuous feature of the Ottoman scene beginning from 1909. The Moderate Liberal Party also merged with the FA (TUNAYA 1952, 277-285). People's Party (Ahali Firkasi): Like the Moderate Liberal Party, the People's Party was founded by deputies. The distinctive characteristic of most of its founders was that they belonged to the ulema class. Another point is that most of them were from Anatolia. The leader of the Party, however, was Gumiilcineli ismail Bey. Prominent persons like Zeynelabidin (Konya), Mustafa Sabri (Tokat) and Vasfi (Karesi) were later to play important roles among the anti-Kemalists in the armistice period. In a sense, this was a precursor of the three Islamist political parties in recent Turkish politics led by Necmettin Erbakan. Similar to these parties, the People's Party combined the expected conservative positions with rather unexpectedly modern ones. In its program, the provision about easing the conditions for state employment of uneducated persons, the emphasis on the proper teaching of Arabic in schools, the provision that parliamentary candidates

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should have at least five years residence in their constituencies and that the residence of public employees should not be considered as having fulfilled this condition (a device which was to be resurrected in the beginning of December 1922 against Mustafa Kemal in the Grand National Assembly) are examples of its conservatism. Provisions about worker's rights, chambers of commerce and agriculture, a modern curriculum for medreses, societies for the protection of animals may be considered modern positions. Giimulcineli Ismail Held rather extreme anti-Zionist and anti-semitic views and was among the first to voice them in public debate. This position, which is typical of extreme right-wing Turkish politicians nowadays, was a French influence. In France, since the last quarter of the 19th century, clericalist, monarchist politics has accused modernist, secular politics of being under the influence of Zionists, Jews and Freemasons. The People's Party ended by joining the FA (TUNAYA 1952, 294-302; AK§iN 1987, 178-181). The Ottoman Socialist Party (Osmanli Sosyalist Firkasi): This Party was established in September 1910. In many respects it was a 'one-man show' of Hiiseyni Hilmi, leader of the Party and owner of the review ì§tirak (Participation). Similar to the small parties examined above, it was unable to muster a numerically significant following or to establish a party network. This was due (as with the other parties) in large measure to the pressure and intimidation emanating from the CUP. Socialist clubs, trade unions (most of which were apparently without any connection with the Party) were discouraged or closed down. Even if such pressure had not existed, one can suppose that, taking into consideration the underdevelopment of industry, the consequent weakness of the labor class, and the backwardness of the educational system, the Socialist Party would not have had much of a chance to develop. Before his death in 1914, the materialist philosopher Baha Tevfik seems to have been the ideologue behind Hilmi. Another personality connected with the Party was Dr. Refik Nevzat, who in 1911 established a kind of one-man branch in Paris. After 1911 the Party began to fade. The labor movement was less active and there were fewer strikes. Hilmi was among the politicians who were exiled from the capital after the assassination of Mahmut §evket (1913). He returned to Istanbul, which was at the time under Entente occupation, at the end of World War I. The labor movement was again active and the Socialist Party enjoyed a short revival, organizing various strikes. It appears that Hilmi enjoyed a certain protection or tolerance from British authorities, not least because some of the strikes he organized took place in French concerns. Hilmi was assassinated on November 15, 1922 (TUNCAY 1978, 31-100). Freedom and Accord Party {Entente Libérale) (Hurriyet ve itilaf Firkasi): This Party, unlike the others, became the opposition party par excellence. It was able to muster a considerable following and to establish a widespread network throughout the country. From another angle, it was a grand coalition of nearly all opposition groups. The People's Party, the Moderate Liberal Party, the Liberal Union, as well as many Bulgarian, Armenian, Greek elements, and a number of independent deputies all joined to form this coalition which was thus composed of quite irreconcilable elements. What brought them together was the desire to end the do-

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mination of the CUP. The date of its foundation (November 21, 1911) may be considered somewhat unfortunate — this was 50 days after the beginning of the Italian invasion of Tripoli. It should be remembered that Italy, in its ultimatum, contrary to international convention, directed some of its accusations against the CUP. Whereas the CUP felt that by coming to power in 1908 it had saved 'the sick man of Europe', the Tripolitanian War, being a continuation of the partition process of the Ottoman Empire, seemed to openly contradict this supposition. The FA was founded in such circumstances. The leader of the new party was Damat Ferit Pa§a, a senator and brother-in-law of prince Vahdettin. Vahdettin, as was to become apparent after he came to the throne in 1918, was actively interested in politics. The fact that his (future) favorite grand vizier was now leading the Party, may be an indication of the active role of Vahdettin and his brother-in-law in engineering the FA coalition. There were, in fact, rumors at the time that Vahdettin was honorary president of the Party. The Vice-President of the Party was Colonel Sadik Bey, in 1911 the leader of the conservative opposition within the CUP (Hizb-i Cedid - New Faction) (TUNAYA 1984, 100-103; AK§iN 1987, 182-184). The program of the FA, unlike that of the Liberal Union, was a rightist one compared to the CUP. Referring to the demands of the Liberal Union for direct elections and the election of senators, it chose to defer these to some future date. On the other hand, it called for an increase in the competences of the Senate, which would thus be able to call the cabinet to account, play a more important role in legislation, and reduce appropriations in the state budget. Also, the Sultan would be empowered to ask the government for explanations for executive acts and would be able to veto legislative acts. It is clear that strengthening the hand of the Senate, which was composed of the Sultan's appointees, and that of the Sultan was a rightist, conservative position. On December 11, 1911, by-elections were held in Istanbul for one seat in the Chamber. The FA won the election by a margin of one vote. This event bought euphoria to the opposition and dismay to the CUP. The latter decided to put up no longer with the Chamber of 1908. After a rather painful process it was able to dissolve the Chamber. Elections were held in 1912 and unfortunately they have taken their place in Turkish electoral history as the 'Big Stick Elections' (Sopali Segimler). The CUP was this time able to carefully select its candidates and only six non-CUP deputies were elected. This was a great disillusionment for the FA, which thereupon began to think of revolution. A junta of five officers, called the Group of Savior Officers, began to issue proclamations. The opposition also staged uprisings in Albania. Meantime, probably when it had become apparent that coming to power was not going to be very easy, Damat Ferit retired from the leadership of the Party and was replaced by Marshall (Deli/Crazy) Fuat Pa§a (March 1912). That summer, the CUP, probably content that at last it controlled the Chamber and with the idea of not taking upon itself the odium of the inevitable abandonment of Tripoli to the Italians, allowed 'its' grand vizier Sait Pa§a to resign. His place was taken by a bipartisan government of senior pa§as led by Gazi

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Ahmet Muhtar Pa§a. However, the CUP''s position began to weaken rapidly. The CUP's Chamber was dissolved. As the CUP weakened, FA's influence grew. In October 1922, the beginning of the Balkan War turned out to be an unmitigated disaster for the Ottoman Empire, resulting in the loss of almost all Rumelia to the victorious Balkan armies. Now the government was headed by Kamil Pa§a, and when it became clear that it was going to abandon Edirne to Bulgaria, the CUP moved in. On January 23, 1913, it organized a coup (Babiali baskini) which brought Mahmud §evket to the Sublime Porte. FA's political triumph was thus short-lived. When the M. §evket government in turn was forced to abandon Edirne (Treaty of London, May 30, 1913), elements of the opposition assassinated Mahmut §evket (June 1911). This was apparently to be one stage of a projected coup which, however, never materialized. The CUP struck back in anger. Those responsible were hanged, and the notables (about 200) of the opposition were exiled to Sinop, where they remained until the end of World War I. Very soon after the end of the War, the FA began to revive. At this point, on January 10, 1919, Damat Ferit 'laid hands' on the FA by forming a Central Committee. This was composed of some of the old leaders like Mustafa Sabri, Vasfi, Riza Tevfik and Zeynelabidin, as well as a number of retired pa§as close to the Palace, who were brought in by Ferit. One of the latter, Marshall Nuri Pa§a, erstwhile Head Chamberlain of Abdulhamit, became president. With the CUP out of the way, FA thought that it should be in power. However, the government at the time, headed by Tevfik Pa§a, though and-CUP and close to the Palace (Tevfik Pa§a's son was the Sultan's son-in-law), could hardly be described as connected to the FA. The British were also dissatisfied because they considered Tevfik's antiCUP position not radical enough. On March 4, 1919, Damat Ferit formed an FA government. The new government began to prosecute CUP members more actively (in April, the former Kaymakam of Bogazliyan, Kemal Bey, was hanged for his action during the transfer of Armenians during the War), and to re-examine some of the 'wrongs' committed against the Palace after 1908. This was the FA's first and last taste of power and it lasted only two and a half months. It is questionable whether this was really a 'taste of power' because, in the last analysis, Ferit was much more a man of the Palace than a FA politician. Ferit resigned as a result of the national shock experienced when the Greeks began to occupy izmir and the Aegean region on May 15, 1919. He formed another government which, though it included many of his FA colleagues from his former ministry, also added a good number of non-F/4 persons or persons with pro-nationalist leanings, most as ministers without portfolio. It was at this time that Mustafa Kemal landed at Samsun (19 May) and began his career as the leader of the democratic-nationalist movement. Because the Turks knew from Balkan experience the difficulty of surviving under the rule of Balkan nationalism, the Greek occupation was perceived as a major disaster. (The Greek occupation quickly confirmed these fears). Under the circumstances, the popular reaction against the CUP arising from the defeat in the War, began to fade, because a nationalist reflex was now the order of the day. Such a

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development was bound to have negative effects on the strength of the FA, since its raison d'être had been opposition to the CUP. Some time after the FA's revival, Sadik Bey, who was among the one-time leaders of the Party, appeared on the scene. He had spent the war years in Egypt, supported by the British. Now, he assumed the leadership of the Party. At a meeting in the Palace, called to debate the Greek occupation, he asked for British protection of the Empire. Sadik's radicalism further complicated the FA's troubles. In June 1919 he disowned the Ferit government and threatened to expel from the Party FA ministers who did not resign. Suspecting that he was doing all this to secure a ministerial appointment for himself and not able to stomach his dictatorial behavior, many resigned from the Party. On May, 1920, his opponents set up the Moderate (Mutedil) FA. The leader was Mustafa Sabri. The Moderates extended full support to the 5th Damat Ferit government (formed on July 31, 1920) which included three FA ministers. The split, however, created dissatisfaction on both sides and unsuccessful attempts were made to establish a reconciliation. The final failure of the civil war launched by the Palace in the fall of 1920 and the consequent fall of Ferit's government (October 17, 1920) meant the end of the FA. From then on, Vahdettin abandoned all hawkish policies and with his 'dovish' Grand Vizier Tevfik Paça, tried to pursue a policy of appeasement vis-à-vis Ankara. Under these circumstances, the FA leadership, unable to play any role, waited till the conclusive victory of the democratic-nationalist movement in 1922, when it fled from the country under British protection or else was exiled by the new government (BiRiNCi 1990; TUNAYA 1952, 315-344, 447-456). League for the Defence of Rights of Anatolia and Rumeli (LDRAR - Anadolu ve Rumeli Miidafaa-i Huk.uk Cemiyeti): This was Mustafa Kemal's party. It was founded at the Congress of Sivas (4-11 September 1919). Very soon after the Mudros Armistice (October 30, 1918) many cities, provinces or regions, fearing the territorial ambitions of the Entente, while at the same time heartened by President Wilson's Fourteen Points, which were based on the principle of selfdetermination, proceeded to set up 'Defence of Rights' associations or leagues. At the Amasya Meeting which took place on June 20-22, 1919, Kemal and the 'Amasya Military Organization' (my appellation) over which he presided, called for the convening of a National Congress in Sivas. Before that, Kemal and his colleagues attended the Congress of Erzurum, where two local Defence of Rights Associations, that of the Eastern provinces and that of Trabzon, were united. The Congress was scheduled to convene on July 10, 1919. However, since at that date many delegates had not yet arrived, the opening of the Congress was postponed to a date nearly two weeks later, to July 23rd. These dates were not at all accidental. July 10, 1324 was the date of the proclamation of the Second constitutional period, according to the Rumî calendar. On the other hand, July 23, 1908 was the same date by the Christian calendar. To understand this insistence on that date, we must be aware that Vahdettin was at that time proceeding towards the restoration of absolutism, that parliament had been dissolved on December 21, 1918 and the mandatory elections had not taken place since then, and that the anniversary of the constitution had not been celebrated in 1919. Thus the emphasis on the date was a

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democratic manifestation against the absolutist counter-revolution of Vahdettin. It follows naturally that the Congress should have demanded general elections and the convening of parliament. It is this comparison with Vahdettin's regime that renders the movement represented by Mustafa Kemal and his followers democratic. The Congress of Erzurum was to last two weeks, probably because of the heartrending decision that it took (or had to take), namely, the renouncing of Arab lands. In other words, the renouncing of the Empire. For these persons, who had been brought up with imperial ideals, it was doubtlessly a very difficult (though realistic) decision (AK§iN 1976, 466-487). The decisions taken at Erzurum were to be repeated at Sivas. Here, however, the Congress created the LDRAR, an organization that encompassed the whole country as it existed on the day of Armistice. This Congress elected Kemal as its leader, following the example of the Erzurum Congress. It was the LDRAR, led by Kemal, that victoriously brought to an end the War of Independence and conducted the arduous peace negotiations at Lausanne. The same organization, transformed in 1923 into the Republican People's Party, and under the same leadership, was to build the edifice for a new, modern society. One must at this point dwell on the relationship between the CUP and LDRAR. There are many differences between the two organizations, but also many similarities. Both stood for a bourgeois, democratic revolution, and fought against feudal absolutism. Both were part of an international movement of democratization. The constitutions in Russia, Iran, China and the Ottoman Empire (1905-1908) made up a series in the first decade of the 20th century. So did the republics in Russia, Germany, Austria, Hungary and Turkey in the second decade (1917-1923). This last series was composed of countries defeated in the war. But the treatment accorded to Turkey in the Treaty of Sevres could not be compared with that accorded to the others. It was a treaty which, completely emasculating the Ottoman government and basing decisions about territory on the principle of 'historic right', seemed to be laying the foundation for the complete subjugation and/or eradication in the long (or middle) run of the Turkish element in Anatolia. Such a challenge necessitated a radical transformation of Turkish society. That is what the Kemalist revolution was about: a project for Turkish survival in Europe. The endurance of the major Kemalist structures to the present day indicates that, consciously or unconsciously, the Turkish people perceived the challenge and understood the remedy. Both the CUP and the LDRAR stood for democracy and Turkish nationalism. However, the LDRAR, like its leader, was much more radical than the CUP. Circumstances, as was noted just above, made it so, but the role of the leader should not be forgotten. The CUP never harbored republican or secular ideas. On the other hand, republicanism and secularism were the essence of the Kemalist movement. Kemal, for obvious reasons, did not voice these principles during the War of Independence. However, the inscription of the principle of national sovereignty, topped by the qualification 'without limits or conditions', as the first article of the Constitution of 1921, was a telling indication in this direction. It was

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Kemal's radicalism which had cost him, temporarily, as it turned out, the leadership in the short-lived Chamber of Deputies that convened in Istanbul in January 1920. But the determination of the Entente to demolish the Ottoman Empire brought Kemal back to effective leadership. That radicalism of the Entente necessitated and called forth the radicalism of Kemal. Another important difference between the CUP and the LDRAR was that from the beginning to the end, the CUP practiced collective leadership. The LDRAR, on the other hand, nearly always (during the War of Independence Karabekir wielded a certain influence) had, in the words of §evket Süreyya Aydemir, 'the single man', namely Kemal. Kemal's spectacular victory over the Greeks made this a permanent feature of, first, the LDRAR and then the RPP. The LDRAR, in spite of its name, was a political party which actively took part (and dominated) in the elections of 1919 and 1920. Nevertheless, a rather large splinter of more than 70 deputies formed an opposition in the Grand National Assembly (GNA) of Turkey (in Ankara), called 'the Second Group'. They were mostly conservative persons who saw in which direction Kemal's radicalism might go and tried to oppose it. Perhaps because party discipline was not strict enough, in some instances the opposition was able to influence and sway the majority ( D E M I R E L 1994). In the conditions of civil war and foreign invasion of the time, it would be difficult to expect much pluralism. Thus the LDRAR, though composed mostly of former CUP members or sympathizers (Kemal himself being a former member), made a point not to be identified with the discredited CUP. Both the Erzurum and Sivas congresses declared they had nothing to do with the CUP. Indeed, I don't think there was much tolerance for those who continued to profess CUP loyalties. The same is true for FA members or sympathizers, who in many cases worked for the Sultan and/or collaborated with the enemies of the GNA government. It is interesting to note that Istanbul, which was throughout this period under Entente occupation, was a haven both for the CUP and for FA. Indeed, the LDRAR continually had great trouble in trying to establish its authority among the democratic-nationalist elements in the capital, which tended to be under CUP influence. The CUP no longer existed as such, but thanks to its principle of collective leadership, remnants of the party were able to give it a kind of quasiexistence ( A K § I N 1976; AK§iN 1992; Z Ü R C H E R 1984). There were also a number of socialist-Marxist organizations in Anatolia which had a rather ephemeral existence between the founding of the GNA and the first military victories of 1921. This was at a time when the GNA government was at its weakest and the only significant external support was the Soviet Union. These organizations were: the Green Army (Ye§il Ordu), the Communist Party of Turkey (Türkiye Komünist Firkasi) (established by the government), the Communist Party (illegal), the People's Socialist Party (Halk t§tirakiyun Firkasi) (TUN^AY 1978, 101-292).

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Other Political Parties or Organizations In the period under discussion, there were quite a number of political parties or associations which I have not mentioned in this article. The reasons for this are the following: First, there is the question of space. Trying to examine all such organizations would unduly prolong this article. Secondly, most of these organizations are of secondary importance. Thirdly, there are the political organizations of the non-Turkish peoples of the Empire: Greeks, Arabs, Armenians, Bulgarians (Macedonians), Albanians, Kurds, Jews, Serbs, Circassians etc. Trying to cover them would again bring in the problem of space. It is also true that this writer would need to know many of these languages and have access to the pertinent sources in order to do justice to such a study because, if we exclude TUNAYA's study, there are generally not enough secondary sources in Turkish (or, as far as I know, in English or French) on the subject (TUNAYA 1984; TUNAYA 1986). There is also the question of how far we can consider the political parties created in Anatolia and especially in Ankara after the founding of the GNA on April 23, 1920 as Ottoman. Juridically, there seems to be no problem. Until November 1, 1922, when the Sultanate was abolished, it can be said that even the GNA, which did not repudiate the Ottoman constitution, was a part of the Ottoman state. Ankara openly declared in its constitution that its aim was to save the Sultanate and Caliphate. Thus, M. Gologlu calls the inauguration of the GNA, the Third Constitution (Ugiincu Me§rutiyet). However, examined politically, the question becomes much more complex and it becomes difficult to maintain the Ottomanism of the GNA. Nevertheless, I have included the LDRAR in this study, first, because it existed before the beginning of the GNA. Secondly, the period after the inauguration of the GNA can be considered a kind of period of transition from monarchy to republic (GOLOGLU 1970). Conclusion In conclusion, we can see that in the period 1908-1922, there were basically two political actors: the feudal-absolutist Palace, and the democratic-nationalist movement, first represented by the CUP, later by the LDRAR.

The mainstream political parties in Turkey, 1923-1999 METIN HEPER

I take mainstream political parties as those parties that did not directly or indirectly challenge the political regime in Turkey and played a significant role in Turkish politics. I define the political regime in Turkey as the secular state in the single-party period (1923-1945) and the secular and democratic state in the multi-party period (1945 to the present). In my opinion, the following parties fit this definition of mainstream political parties: the Republican People's Party, Populist Party, Social Democracy Party, Social Democratic Populist Party, Democratic Left Party, new Republican People's Party, Democratic Party, Justice Party, True Path Party, and the Motherland Party. Below, I briefly examine each of these political parties.1 The Republican People's Party (1923-1980) The establishment of the Republican People's Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi — CHP) was first announced in April 1923 and the party was officially formed on 11 September 1923 by Mustafa Kemal (Atatiirk),2 the founder of the Republic. Until 10 November 1924, the party was referred to as the People's Party {Halk Firkasi). The People's Party had come into existence by the transformation into a party of the Defence of Rights 'Group', an offshoot of the Association for the Defence of Rights of Anatolia and Rumelia (Anadolu ve Rumeli Miidafaa-i Hukuk Cemiyeti — ARMHC). The Group in question was referred to as the First Group.3 The First Group presented itself as the representative of the ARMHC. The ARMHC had acted as the political arm of the nationalists who, under the leadership of Atatiirk, waged the Turkish War of Independence (1919-1922).

' The genealogy of the mainstream Turkish parties, 1923-1999 and the percentages of votes the mainstream political parties in Turkey received in the general elections, 1923-1999 are given in the Appendix One and Appendix Two above. 2 (Mustafa Kemal) Atatiirk (1881-1938): General, founder of the Turkish Republic and its President from 1923 to 1938. Graduated from Army Staff College in 1905. During the First World War successfully defended the Dardanelles (the strait between the Aegean Sea and the Sea of Marmara in Western Turkey) against a large allied fleet. On 19 May 1919, started the Turkish War of Independence against the allied forces that had invaded parts of the country following the war. On 23 April 1923, convened the Turkish Grand National Assembly in Ankara and became chairman of the Assembly and head of government. Upon the proclamation of the Turkish Republic on 29 October 1923, became the President of the Republic. Then devoted himself to reforms that would westernize the country. In 1934, the Turkish Grand National Assembly conferred upon Mustafa Kemal the name of 'Atatiirk, father of Turks'. In his later years, concentrated more on issues of history and language. Passed away on 10 November 1938 but his ideas have significantly influenced later generations of Turks. 3 The other offshoot of the ARMHC was the so-called Second Group, the rather disorganized members of which unsuccessfully opposed first Ataturk's gathering all power in his hands and the proclamation of the Republic (FINEFROCK 1979).

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Initially, Atatiirk became the CHP's chairperson, ismet (inonii)4 the acting chairperson, and Recep (Peker) the secretary-general. In its early decades, the CHP cadres evinced a continuation with those of the Party of Union and Progress. Intellectuals and bureaucrats as well as retired officers and some large landowners dominated the membership. The last two groups began to disappear from the ranks of the party after the transition to multi-party politics in the mid-1940s (FREY 1965, 111-134). During the single-party years, the popular base of the party was an amorphous mass that voted for the CHP basically for lack of an alternative. Some were attracted to the party because Atatiirk was considered to have saved the country from the 'infidel'. Some others had respect for inonii — a respect that was not necessarily complemented with affection (HEPER 1998, 63). When given a chance, they supported the Republican Progressive Party (1924), the Free Republican Party (1930), or the Democratic Party (1950 and later) rather than tnonii's CHP. Initially, the CHP defined its basic mission as that of maintaining the national unity and the territorial integrity of Turkey. The party aimed at modernizing Turkey and promoting in Turkey the rule of law and the notion of 'sovereignty by the people and for the people'. The party elaborated its mission in the Nine Principles enunciated by Atatiirk on 8 April 1923: (1) the Turkish Grand National Assembly is the sole representative of the nation; (2) the abrogation of the Sultanate (1922) was a necessity, however there is a need for the Caliphate; (3) providing security in the country has high priority; (4) measures need to be adopted so that the courts would render their decisions in a just manner; (5) the tithe will be eliminated; agriculture and trade will be promoted; the state will extend credits to farmers, traders, and industrialists; modern machinery will be provided to farmers; those industries for which Turkey had raw materials will be supported; efforts will be made to develop railway transportation, education, health, social welfare, forestry, animal husbandry, and mining; (6) and (7) the duration of the compulsory military service will be shortened, officers' living standards will be improved, a more secure future will be provided to reserve officers; aid will be given to the families of the soldiers who died as martyrs, (8) reforms will be made in the public bureaucracy and a higher standard of living will be secured for the civil servants; and (9) incentives will be provided not only to the state economic ventures but also to the private sector investments 5 (TUNAYA 1952, 580).

4

5

(ismet) tnonii (1884-1973): General and Turkey's second president (1938-1950). Completed the Army Staff College in 1906. Worked with Mustafa Kemal on the Syrian front during the First World War. In 1918, was appointed undersecretary of the War Ministry. Became Minister of War in the First Ankara government. Won the crucial First and Second inonii Battles during the Turkish War of Independence. On 29 October 1923, the day the Republic was proclaimed, became the Republic's first Prime Minister. Except the period between 19 November 1924 and 3 March 1925, served as Prime Minister. On 11 November 1938, became President and served as such until 1950. Between 20 November 1961 and 13 February 1965, again served as Prime Minister. Played a critical role in institutionalizing the republican reforms, the transition to the multi-party regime in 1945, in the return to civilian governments following the 27 May 1960 and 12 March 1971 military interventions, and in consolidating democracy in Turkey. For an analysis of the sources of the Nine Principles, see FINEFROCK (1976).

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From the proclamation of the Republic in 1923 until the end of the Second World War, with the exceptions of the brief Progressive Republican Party (Terakkiperver Cumhuriyet Firkasi) (1924-1925) and the Republican Free Party (Cumhuriyetgi Serbest Firka) (1930) periods, the CHP ruled the country under a single-party regime. Particularly with the start of the Sheik Said rebellion in 1925 and its continuation intermittently until 1938, the CHP increasingly adopted an ironhanded rule (ZÜRCHER 1993, 187-189). Also, the party had a steep hierarchical organization, with centrally appointed inspectors for each of the 14 regions specifically designated for this purpose and with similarly hand-picked chairpersons of the provincial organizations of the party as well as mayors (UYAR 1998, 259-261). Moreover, in June 1936, the party was merged with the state: the Minister of the Interior became the Secretary-General of the party, the provincial governors the chairpersons of the party's provincial organizations. Moreover, the party was placed under the general supervision of government's inspectors, who were civil servants (ÖZ 1992, 116119). Under the tutelary authoritarian regime so established (WEIKER 1973), the CHP set out to Westernize Turkey by a number of reforms, extending from law to education and to forms of dress. The party-state merger began to decompose when the Secretary-General of the party was left out of the government in 1939. That same year, inönü formed an Independent Group (Miistakil Grup) within the CHP, which was to play the role of a loyal opposition and critic of the government. This experiment came to an end with the onset of the Second World War (KARPAT 1991, 58-59). In the Second Congress of the party, convened on 15 October 1927,6 the party adopted republicanism, populism, nationalism, and secularism as the fundamental principles that the party was to pursue. At the next party congress convened on 10 May 1931, etatism and reformism/revolutionism were added to the four fundamental principles adopted earlier. The etatist policies had in fact begun to be pursued in the wake of the 1929 world economic crisis. Only in the 1937-1938 period, when Celäl Bayar7 became Prime Minister, the etatist policy was softened and greater incentives were given to the private sector (ZÜRCHER 1993,204-209). The six principles together were referred to as the Six Arrows (Alti Ok), which were incorporated into the 1924 Constitution on 13 February 1937. The Six Arrows 6

7

The 1927 Congress was considered as the 'second congress', because the CHP retrospectively adopted the Sivas Congress of 1919 as its first congress so as to appropriate the Defence of Rights movement. Personal correspondence with Erik-Jan Zürcher. Celäl Bayar (1883-1985): Third President of the Turkish Republic. Served in the last Ottoman Parliament and then became a member of the Turkish Grand National Assembly convened in 23 April 1920 in Ankara. In 1921, appointed minister of economy, in 1924 minister of reconstruction and resettlement, in 1932 again minister of economy and stayed in that post until 1937. Placed emphasis on the development of the private sector through state subsidies. In 1945, with Adnan Menderes, Refik Koraltan and Fuat Köprülü, found the Democratic Party (DP) and became its chairman. Following the 14 May 1950 general elections that the DP won, became President and served in that capacity until 27 may 1960 when the army toppled the DP from power. Was criticized for his partisan attitude during his presidency. Following the military intervention, was tried and given death sentence that was commuted to life imprisonment Freed in 1964. In his last years gave his moral support first to the Democratic Party (Demokratik Parti — not to be confused with the Demokrat Parti) and then to the Justice Party (Adalet Partisi — AP).

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together constituted the basis of Kemalism. Keraalism, through its principle of secularism, was an effort to substitute 'reason' for Islamic tenets. Atatiirk and his associates were of the opinion that Islam had not been open to change and that as such it had stood in the way of progress (HEPER 1983). By resorting to an intense socialization process that included regular flag saluting and national anthem singing at schools, the state attempted to create a Turkish citizen loyal to the republican principles in place of a religious community that took its cues from Islam (HEPER 1981, 355-356). The state also exercised social control over the people through the intermediation (in a corporatist sense) of the large landowners over the peasants (AYATA-GUNE? 1994, 51-52). The CHP subscribed intact to this Jacobenist world view, at least until the leadership of the party was taken over by Biilent Ecevit from ismet inonu in 1972. Following Atatiirk's death on 10 November 1938, inonii became President and the chairperson of the CHP. In order to fill the presumed authority vacuum created by the loss of Atatiirk, tnonii assumed the title of National Chief (Milli §ef) and governed the country in an authoritarian manner during the War years (HEPER 1998, 181-182; AKANDERE 1998, 29-59). Yet, inonu had begun to appreciate the virtues of a more open regime even when Atatiirk was alive. During the single-party years when he was Prime Minister he preferred an opposition party to a faction within the CHP. In his opinion, a government could more consistently execute its policies if it was not surprised one morning by an unexpected opposition coming from within its own ranks (GiRiTLioGLU 1965, 81). More generally, he thought a policy intelligently debated among political parties would a better one than a policy formulated by one party. Inonu had other reasons too for opening up the regime. According to him if a single-party regime did not initiate a transition to a more open regime by its own volition, in time it would be swept away and everything it had achieved would go down the drain (TOKER 1990,59). inonu was also not sure how others would rule the country under a single-party regime. He came to the conclusion that the people should learn to govern themselves while he was still alive (TOKER 1990, 59).8 Thus, in a speech he made at Istanbul University on March 2, 1939, after becoming President, he for the first time indicated that he was intent to open up the regime.9 Indeed, once the War was over tnonii was going to gradually liberalize the regime and pave the way to a multi-party regime. In his 19 May 1945 speech, tnonii reiterated that Turkey was going to have a more open political regime. Finally, in his 1 November 1945 opening speech of Parliament, inonii expressed the need for

8

9

The literature normally claims that tnonii opted for a multi-party regime because there was pressure from the rising middle classes and that the whole thing was designed to please the Western democracies in the wake of their victory in the War. Those who mention the socioeconomic factor overlook the fact that as early as 1930 when Atatiirk was displeased by the enthusiastic political support for the Free Republican Party it was inonii who had tried to calm down Atatiirk, persuade him that together they could overcome the difficulties they might face and that there was no need to take an unsympathetic attitude toward the party. Those who talk of the pragmatic attitude on the part of inonii following the Second World War, overlook the fact that inonii first disclosed his intention to open up the regime in 1939, and not in 1945. The full text is in KO?AK (1986), vol. 2, pp. 23-26.

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credible opposition parties, thus making possible the formation of opposition parties — among them the Democratic Party (Demokrat Parti — DP). On the other hand, to safeguard the Republican reforms he felt the need to closely monitor the activities of opposition parties from the very beginning. When the DP's leader Celal Bayar visited him as the leader of that party, inonii wanted to make sure that the DP would not challenge the very premises of the Republic. Thus he wished to know if the Democrats were going to make concessions on secularism, oppose the Village Institutes, pursue a policy of enmity towards Ataturk, allow newly formed political parties to have links to foreign states, and/or weaken the government and damage the reputation of Parliament. When Bayar responded to each of these questions in the negative, inonii became satisfied and told Bayar that his party was acceptable to him (TOKER 1990, 83). The meeting between inonii and Bayar could have been an auspicious beginning for the development of harmonious relations among political parties and, therefore, for the flourishing of a viable democracy in Turkey. Unfortunately, it was considered by the hawks in the DP as collusion between the two men (KARATEPE 1997, 117). The upshot was a hardening of attitude on the part of Bayar towards inonii in order to appease his followers in and outside of the DP. On July 2, 1946, the Republic had its first elections. Some officious administrators rigged these elections in favor of the CHP. The Democracts registered their protest, asked for legal guarantees for the opposition, and demanded a more open regime, inonii looked with sympathy to the Democrats' requests. The CHP liberalized a number of laws, including the Law of Associations, by making the formation of political parties easier. The Independence Tribunals Act was abrogated. Even more significantly, in his 12 July 1947 Declaration (12 Temmuz Beyannamesi), inonii guaranteed the political rights of the opposition as long as it remained within the rule of law and offered constructive criticism (GOLOGLU 1982,231). On the eve of the 1950 general elections, the CHP adopted a sympathetic attitude towards the private and foreign capital and towards religion. All the same, the party lost the 14 May 1950 general elections, by obtaining only 39.9 per cent of the votes in an election conducted under majority system. During the Second World War years, inonii had placed primary emphasis on keeping Turkey on a war footing and, consequently, had hardly paid attention to the economic woes of the people. During the war years, there were shortages of goods; thus prices were skyrocketed. The reforms of the earlier decades that were carried out under the authoritarian rule of Ataturk and inonii and the Democrats' populist promises to the people were also instrumental in the Democrats' victory (LEWIS 1968, 312-319). The CHP remained in opposition throughout the 1950s; in addition to the 1950 general elections, the party lost the 1954 and 1957 general elections, too. These two elections too were conducted under majority system. In 1954, the CHP obtained 34.2 per cent of the votes, and in 1957 40.8 per cent of the votes. In the 1950s, the CHP initially became the champion of etatism and secularism. When from the mid-1950s the economy turned for the worse and the Republicans stepped up their criticism of the DP because of the latter's concessions on secularism in order to garner votes, the Democrats increasingly resorted to authoritarianism. At

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this juncture, the Republicans became proponents of the procedural rules of democracy — in particular, the basic rights and freedoms, equality before law, independence of the judiciary and the press, and university autonomy. The party also called for the establishment of an upper chamber and a constitutional court as well as the adoption of proportional representation (HEPER 1998, 196-200). During this decade, too, except for its opposition to the Petroleum and Foreign Capital Laws, the CHP gave short shrift to the economic issues, inonii opposed these two laws in the name of Turkey's economic sovereignty. At the Lausanne Peace Conference (1923), inonii had spent great energy and effort to put an end to the capitulations. The Ottomans in their grandeur had granted privileges of trading freely in Ottoman ports, coming under the jurisdiction of their own laws and consuls rather than of Muslim judges, and the like to certain European states. In later centuries capitulations became a great financial burden for the Ottoman state (DAVISON 1981). Otherwise, Inonii placed primary emphasis on the consolidation of 'rational democracy' in Turkey — a democracy essentially based on intelligent debate among the well informed. Consequently, in the 1950s, inonii continued to be the number one defender of secularism since, in his opinion, secularism was the most important prerequisite for informed debate. The CHP''s Sixteenth Congress, which convened on 14 January 1959, announced the party's First Targets Declaration (ilk Hedefler Beyannamesi). The Declaration included the principle of rule of law based on human rights, the autonomy of the judiciary, proportional representation, university autonomy, freedom of press, a constitutional court, collective bargaining, trade unions for civil servants, and planned economy (KlLI 1976, 161-163). Towards the end of the decade, the DP increased its pressure on the CHP and even came to the brink of closing the party (EROGUL 1970, 173-176). On 27 May 1960, the military intervened, and toppled the Democrats from power. A new constitution (1961) was enacted. On 6 October 1961, general elections were held.10 The CHP garnered 36.7 per cent of the vote and secured 173 seats in the 450-strong Parliament. The CHP led three of the four coalition governments formed between 1961 and 1965. On 20 November 1961, the CHP formed a coalition government with the Justice Party (AP - Adalet Partisi), on 25 June 1962 with the New Turkey Party (Yeni Tiirkiye Partisi), the Republican Peasant Nation Party (Cumhuriyetgi Koylii Millet Partisi), and the independents, and on 25 December 1963 with the independents. The last was a minority government. On 13 February 1964, this government's budget was rejected and the coalition came to an end. In all of these three coalitions inonii was Prime Minister, inonii made strenuous efforts to reduce the tension between the so-called intellectual-bureaucratic-military elite that had traditionally taken unto themselves the guardianship role of Kemalism on the one hand and their political opponents in the center-right parties such as the 10

From 1961 to the present, general elections in Turkey were conducted under different versions proportional representation. In the 1965 general elections the version that was employed, the national remainder system, promotes the principle of representation by achieving a close fit between the percentage of votes and the percentage of seats. In the other elections since and including the 1961 elections, variations of the 'd'Hondt version' of proportional representation was used; 'd'Hondt system' promotes political stability by favoring the parties with more votes.

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Justice Party and the New Turkey Party that seemed to somewhat challenge such dimensions of Kemalism as secularism and etatism on the other. On the eve of the 10 October 1965 general elections, the CHP — traditionally the party of the state — announced itself in 'the left of the center'. This policy shift had been initiated within the party by Biilent Ecevit and was supported by inonii. For the centrists within the party, such as Turhan Feyzioglu and Kemal Satir, the policy aimed at weakening the appeal of the far left that had flourished in the liberal milieu brought about by the 1961 Constitution. The Constitution had been basically a handiwork of the CHP since that party had a dominant presence in the Constituent Assembly {Kurucu Meclis) (GEN£KAYA 1998, 24). The Assembly in question had been convened following the 1960 military intervention and given the task of preparing the 1961 Constitution. For Ecevit and his associates the adoption of the left-of-center policy meant a move towards a social democratic platform. For inonii, the left-of-center meant etatism, reformism, populism, social justice, and, in particular, rationalism. The outcome of the 1965 general elections was again disappointing for the CHP; the party received only 28.7 percent of the votes. The Justice Party obtained the majority of the votes and formed the government by itself. Biilent Ecevit's 11 group within the party pointed to the need for a more radical transformation of the party in a leftist direction. Another group led by Turhan Feyzioglu opposed this scheme. In the power struggle that ensued, the Ecevit group came out on top, Feyzioglu and his associates resigned from the party and formed the Reliance Party (Guven Partisi), and Ecevit became the Secretary-General of the CHP. Ecevit's slogan was "land to the one who sows it, water to the one who uses it", inonii, however, prevented the CHP from further sliding to the left. The 12 October 1969 general elections too turned out to be a disappointment for the CHP] the party could obtain only 27.3 percent of the votes. This result once again inflamed factional struggle within the party; however, the Ecevit group held its ground and defeated the Kemal Satir group. The latter, not unlike the Feyzioglu group, had opposed the leftist inclinations of Ecevit and his associates. The Satir group had attributed the CHP's continuing failure at the polls to the party's new leftof-center policy whereas Ecevit and his associates again thought the party needed a more radical transformation in the leftist direction (AHMAD 1977,248-251).

" Biilent Ecevit (b. 1926): poet, journalist, and politician. In 1957 became a member of Parliament and took part in the 1960 Constituent Assembly. Served a minister of labor in three coalition governments between 1961 and 1964. Between October 1966 and March 1971, was secretary-general of the CHP. On May 2, 1972, at the Fifth Extraordinary Congress of the Party he took over the leadership of the party from Ismet inonii. On February 6, 1974, became prime minister of the CHP-National Salvation Party coalition. On June 5, 1975, formed a minority government of the CHP. On January 5, 1978, headed a coalition government comprising the CHP, Democratic Party (Demokratik Parti), Republican Reliance Party (Cumhuriyetgi Guven Partisi), and independents. Following the 1980 military intervention, banned from politics. In 1987, his and other political leaders' political rights restored. In 1985, Mrs. Rahjan Ecevit formed the Democratic Left Party (DLP); in September 1987, B. Ecevit became the chairman of that party. In January 1997, became deputy Prime Minister in the DSP-ANAP-Democratic Turkey Party coalition. On 17 January 1999, formed a minority government of the DSP, and on 28 May 1999, the DSP-Nationalist Action Party-ANAP coalition government.

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On 12 March 1971, the military intervened. On inonii's initiative, the CHP participated in the 'above party' governments formed at the military's behest, inonii figured that co-operation with generals could facilitate the return to democracy. Ecevit disagreed; Ecevit thought that the intervention was made against the CHP's left-of-center policy, if not against himself personally (HEPER 1998, 235). In protest, he resigned his post as secretary-general. At the 5 May 1972 Extraordinary Congress that was convened to settle the inonii-Ecevit conflict, Ecevit was again elected secretary-general and inonii's candidate Sato lost. Thereupon, inonii resigned his post as chairperson of the party, after having served in that capacity for 33 years. Satir and his associates also left the party and formed the Republican Party {Cumhuriyetgi Parti). Under Ecevit, the CHP supported participatory democracy and a planned mixed economy that aimed at improving the living standards of the salaried and the havenots. The party now advocated land reform, the development of co-operatives, and the setting up of rural settlements that were to be provided with roads, water, educational and health facilities as well as other infrastructure. The party also had the goal of modernizing the state economic enterprises and developing a 'people's sector', by means of which the capital was to be redistributed to the masses (AHMAD 1977, 327-162). The CHP competed for the 14 October 1973 general elections with its charismatic leader Ecevit. In these elections the CHP garnered the plurality of the votes (33.3 per cent), but the number of seats it gained remained short of a majority. Ecevit formed a coalition government with the religiously oriented National Salvation Party (Milli Sel&met Partisi, MSP) led by Necmettin Erbakan (January 1974). The two parties had similar views on social welfare issues, but on many other matters, including the critical problem of secularism, they had diametrically opposite ideas (HEPER 1979-1980). At the time Ecevit said that the approach adopted towards religion until then was a 'historical mistake' (tarihi yanilgi) (HANOGLU 1995, 1275). Without compromising secularism, Ecevit was for a tolerant attitude towards religion (AHMAD 1993, 162). However, before long serious conflict surfaced between the coalition partners. In the wake of Turkey's invasion of Northern Cyprus in July 1974, Ecevit pressed for an early election, hoping to convert the fame he gained from the invasion into votes. Not unexpectedly, neither the MSP nor other political parties welcomed an early election, and Ecevit's government resigned (September 1974). At the 14 December 1974 party congress the party's new orientation was designated as 'democratic left'. In the 5 June 1977 general elections, the CHP obtained its largest percentage of votes in the multi-party period (41.2 %), yet again it could not gain the majority of seats in Parliament. In June 1977, Ecevit formed a minority government, but it could not obtain a vote of confidence. The last coalition government the CHP participated in the 1970s was the one Ecevit formed on 17 January 1978. Ecevit formed his coalition with the Democratic Party (Demokratik Parti), the Republican Reliance Party (Cumhuriyetgi Giiven Partisi) (formed by the merger of the Reliance Party and the Republican Party — two splinter parties from the CHP), and 11 independents (who had resigned from the Justice Party). This coalition government failed very

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badly in its economic policies and resigned when the CHP could not gain any seats in the 14 October 1979 Senate by-elections (AHMAD 1993, 173-174). Following the 12 September 1980 military intervention, all political party activity was banned. Ecevit resigned from the chairpersonship of the party. On 16 October 1980, along with other political parties, the CHP was closed by the military. The Successor Parties to the CHP The Populist Party (Halkgi Parti — HP) (1983-1985) and the Social Democracy Party (Sosyal Demokrasi Partisi — SODEP) (1983-1985) The junta that carried out the 12 September 1980 military intervention allowed the formation of political parties in spring 1983. On 20 May 1983, the first post-1980 successor party to the CHP was founded. This was the Populist Party (HP) set up by Necdet Calp.12 As he had earlier been the private secretary of Prime Minister tsmet inonii, Calp had the blessings of the junta. Calp formed the HP with those CHP politicians who had been centrist or center-rightist. Consequently, workers' rights and trade unions were not given adequate attention in the program of the party. The bulk of the program venerated Atatiirk and supported the expansion of the state sector. As FlNKEL and HALE (1990, 104) put it, he HP offered only a 'pastel-pink social democracy'. Despite the fact that the HP had been viewed favorably by the junta, nevertheless the National Security Council vetoed 89 founding members of the party. However, the HP managed to have the required number of founding members approved before the 6 November 1983 general elections. In these elections, the party obtained 30.4 per cent of the votes and became the main opposition party. The HP did not display an effective opposition. The leader of the Party Calp was, in fact, accused of being too lenient on the ruling Motherland Party government (YlLDIZ 1995, 1268). At the time the HP was founded, the party had the support of the junta. Thus there were yearnings for establishing a 'genuine' social democracy party. After much effort, ismet inonii's son Erdal inonii13 was persuaded to lead a political party with such credentials. On 29 May 1983, E. inonii and his associates established the Social Democracy Party (SODEP). In the 25 March 1984 local elections, the bulk of the HP's votes went to the SODEP. In these elections, the SODEP obtained 23.4 percent of the votes and the HP's votes dropped to 8.8 per cent. The SODEP leaders argued that even though they were not in Parliament they themselves rather than the HP represented the social democrats in Turkey (YlLDIZ 1995, 1268). At the same time, the SODEP aimed at reconciling the interests of all social groups in the country. The party relegated the issue of class relations to that of trade union rights. The program of the party stated that concerning the rights and freedoms of the trade unions the

12

13

Necdet Calp (1922-1999): served as private secretary of Prime Minister inonii and undersecretary of Prime Minister Biilend Ulusu of the 1980-1983 interregnum. Erdal inonii (b. 1926): Professor of physics. 'inonii-Wigner Group Contraction' has become wellknown in mathematical physics. Became deputy prime minister when SHP and True Path Party formed a coalition government following the 20 October 1991 general elections.

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party wished to introduce the standards one comes across in 'pluralist-democratic countries' (IBID, 1271). Social Democratic Populist Party (Sosyal Demokrat Halkgi Parti — SHP) (1985-1994) On 29 June 1985, Aydin Guven Giirkan14 took over the HP's leadership from Calp. Gurkan had a class bias. He wanted a merger of the HP and the SODEP (YlLDIZ 1995, 1271). On 26 September 1985, such an agreement was reached between the two parties. On 2 October 1985, the HP's name was changed to the Social Democratic Populist Party (Sosyal Demokrat Halkgi Parti — SHP). This was followed by the decision of the SODEP to dissolve itself (3 November 1985). The SODEP members joined the SHP. E. tnonu became the chairperson of the SHP. The SHP started its political life with a serious internal rift. Those with the HP background and those with SODEP background constituted two distinct factions within the party. For a while, the party's energies were spent in the struggle between these two factions (DAGISTANLI 1998, 136). Still, in the 29 November 1987 early general elections the SHP obtained 24.7 percent of the votes and returned 99 members to Parliament. At the 26 March 1989 local elections, the party obtained the plurality of the votes (28.7 per cent). That same year, on two different occasions a total of eight members of the party with Kurdish ethnic background were discharged from the party on the grounds that they had acted as advocates of the 'separatist Kurdish cause'. The SHP basically aimed at re-capturing the CHP votes. The party's approach to workers' welfare resembled that of the SODEP. The SHP was to remove all the legal limitations that in the areas of trade unions, collective bargaining and strike prevent workers from attaining rights one comes across in the pluralist-democratic countries (YlLDIZ 1995, 1271). The party took democratization as its basic mission (KAHRAMAN 1993, 152). On the other hand, under E. inonii, the party acted with caution concerning the civilian-military relations. In the last analysis, the party sought to strike a balance between social democracy and Atatiirkism (TOSUN 1999, 280). The party was instrumental in making improvements in the Penal Procedural Act and the Labor Act. The party adopted welfare state as its economic dictum, though little was accomplished in this regard when the party shared government with the DYP. Despite the fact that it was the first party to have an extensive study done on the Kurdish issue (DAGISTANLI 1998, 175-180), during the coalition with the DYP, the SHP remained silent on the problem. The party endorsed the 5 April 1994 austerity measures intact, which were prepared by its coalition partner DYP (SAYBA§ILI 1995, 47-60). The SHP's name became involved in some corruption cases. In the March 1994 local elections, the SHP obtained 14.0 per cent of the votes. In November 1994, the SHP leadership decided to close the party and merge it with the new Republican People's Party, taken up below in this Chapter. 14

Aydin Cemal Gurkan (b. 1941): Professor of economics. From November 1985 to until May 1986 leader of the Social Democratic Populist Party.

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The Democratic Left Party (Demokratik Sol Parti — DSP) (1985 to the Present) Following the merger of the HP and the SODEP in the SHP, some members of the HP had resigned from the SHP. On 22 November 1985, they formed the Democratic Left Party (DSP) at the behest of Bulent Ecevit but under the leadership of Rahpan Ecevit, the wife of B. Ecevit (below 'Ecevit'). A resort was made to such a formula because the ban on the political activities of the pre-1980 politicians was still in effect. Ecevit wanted a political party that did not have within its ranks various factions as had existed in the CHP, and also a party that Ecevit, with the help of his wife, could single-handedly run (DAGISTANLI 1998, 379). It was for this reason that Ecevit rejected the HP's Giirkan's overtures for the merger of the HP and the DSP as well as similar attempts by other social democratic parties later. Only when the new Republican People's Party (nCHP) was founded did Ecevit point out that his party and the nCHP could merge, provided that his scheme for the administration of the new party was accepted. Deniz Baykal,15 the leader of the nCHP, did not accept Ecevit's conditions, and the matter was shelved. The question of the merger of the two parties again came to the political agenda when the new Republican People's Party could not make much headway; in early 1995, however, Deniz Baykal preferred to enter a coalition government with the DYP. Close to 80 per cent of the founders of the DSP were made up of workers, villagers, shopkeepers, and retired civil servants. Yet, those who later occupied the highest posts in the party hardly came from these social groups. And there has been a constant turnover among those at the top because of their 'failure' to obey Ecevits' wishes (DAGISTANLI 1998, 379). Similarly, the party's rhetoric was that the party was going to be formed not top down but bottom up, that it was going to adopt a system of 'expanded democracy', and that in the party there was going to be 'continuous participation'. In actual fact, the party's central organization, run almost single-handedly by Rah§an Ecevit, kept the party's local organizations under strict control (DAGISTANLI 1998, 359). In November 1985, a group of parliamentarians who had opposed the HPSODEP merger joined the DSP and the party was able to form a Parliamentary Group.16 The first elections that the DSP participated in were the 1986 by-elections. In these elections the party's votes could not pass the nationwide threshold. As noted, in the 6 September 1987 referendum the ban on the political activities of the pre-1980 parliamentarians was lifted. On 13 September 1987, the DSP's Board of Founders elected Bulent Ecevit the chairperson of the party. At the 29 November 1987 early elections, the DSP's votes again could not clear the nationwide barrier. Disappointed, Ecevit announced that he and his wife were

15

16

Deniz Baykal (b. 1938): Associate professor of political science. Former minister of finance (1974), minister of energy and natural resources (1978), foreign minister, and deputy prime minister (19941995). In Turkey, at least 20 members are needed for a party to have a Parliamentary Group. Those parties with Parliamentary Groups have the right to express their views in Parliament as a party and they have members in the Assembly's Advisory Council that prepares the Assembly's agenda.

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leaving active politics. Yet, they continued to concern themselves with the affairs of the DSP. Ecevit returned to the DSP (as chairperson) in January 1989. The party's first significant electoral success came in the 20 October 1991 general elections, obtaining 10.8 per cent of the votes and returning seven members to Parliament, including Ecevit. The DSP's votes further increased in the 24 December 1995 general elections, to 14.7 per cent. This time the party returned to Parliament 76 members. The DSP has been a moderate left party. The party has always come up with concrete policies developed as alternatives to those of the parties in governments. The DSP's approach to politics was declared to be 'nationalist left'. It was for this reason, it was explained, that the party's name made reference to 'democratic left' and not to 'social democracy'. The party indeed adopted a nationalist left stance on the Cyprus and other foreign affairs issues. On the Kurdish issue, Ecevit's position has been that the problem did not derive from ethnic differences but from the underdevelopment of Southeastern Turkey; thus, according to Ecevit, there has been in Turkey 'the problem of the southeast' (Guneydogu sorunu) and not 'a Kurdish problem'. Ecevit has opposed such schemes as the state providing education in Kurdish (HANOGLU 1995, 1275). In the 1991 and the 1995 general elections, the DSP could not obtain more than three per cent of the votes in those provinces where there was a large Kurdish population. Concerning the economy, the DSP, too, has had a favorable attitude to neoliberalism with the proviso that alongside the public and private sectors the party also wanted the development of a 'peoples' sector'. Villagers were to organize within the framework of co-operatives and have 'producers' investment funds', workers were to have 'workers' investment funds, and villagers and workers were to set up economic ventures, including managerial institutions (HANOGLU 1995, 1275). As noted, the DSP adopted a moderate ('more democratic') attitude towards secularism; the party moved away from the tendency of Turkey's social democrats to identify everybody who has respect for traditions and who practices his/her religion as someone who will turn the clock back. The party's secularism was combined with respect for religious sensitivities of the people. Ecevit has also had sympathies towards those religious orders, particularly that of Fethullah Giilen, that have maintained the Sufi traditions and thus have been the proponents of individual freedoms (HANOGLU 1995, 1275).

In June 1997, the DSP, ANAP and Hiisamettin Cindoruk's Democratic Turkey Party (the center-right splinter party from the DYP founded on 7 January 1997) formed a coalition government, the so-called Anasol-D, led by Mesut Yilmaz of ANAP. Baykal's nCHP promised to support the government from outside. Initially, the Anasol-D aimed at early elections. Later, the government decided to introduce long-ranging policies. An economic reform package was adopted. Among other things, a reformist tax bill was enacted. The inflation was pulled below the 60 per cent mark. Eight-year compulsory secular education was introduced in place of the earlier five-year one. A successful struggle was waged against the underworld, with many mafia leaders being brought to trial. The government-backed military managed

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to contain the terrorist activities of the PKK (the Kurdistan Worker's Party) and in fact began to roll it back. However, in December 1998, this coalition fell in the wake of a vote of confidence that was not granted to the government.17 Ecevit formed a minority government (17 January 1999). The new government came up with an early election bill that was passed by Parliament. The country was now set for another round of elections. On 16 February 1999, unexpectedly, Ecevit announced the capture of Abdullah Ocalan, the leader of the PKK. Although the saga that ended with the capture of the terrorist leader had started when the previous government, the Anasol-D, was in power,18 and despite the fact that Ecevit was careful not to exploit the incident for partisan purposes, the DSP became the favorite to win the elections. Indeed, at the 18 April 1999 general elections the party garnered the plurality of the votes (22.1%). Ecevit formed a coalition government with Devlet Bah?eli's Nationalist Action Party and Yilmaz's ANAP (May 28, 1999). The DSP's success at the 18 April 1999 elections cannot solely be attributed to the capture of Ocalan. One can even argue that that incident played a relatively minor role in the success of the party at the elections. The DSP in all likelihood came out on top because, (1) Ecevit acted as the guardian of the long term interests of the community (for instance, his non-compromising attitude in regard to the Kurdish problem) while remaining compassionate towards the people; (2) as elaborated above, he had a balanced approach to the issue of secularism; (3) except the then little known Devlet Bah^eli of the Nationalist Action Party, he was seen as virtually the sole political leader without a suspicion of corruption; (4) last but not least, along with Bahfeli, he avoided picking personal fights and engaging in political bickering with other political leaders. In Turkey at the turn of the century, Ecevit's political style was in question and his particular approach to the matters of the state, in particular that of secularism, bolstered the DSP's political fortunes. (New) Republican People's Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi — nCHP) On 9 September 1992, the CHP, which along with other parties had been closed following the 12 September 1980 military intervention, convened its first Congress after a hiatus of 13 years. Deniz Baykal was elected Chairperson. Some members of the SHP and DSP joined the new CHP under the leadership of Deniz Baykal. Then the SHP merged with the nCHP. Baykal decided to continue the coalition with the DYP — the SHP's coalition partner before the SHP joined the nCHP — for the sake of 'not leaving Turkey without a government'. Not unlike the SHP, the nCHP, too, has had a favorable attitude towards market forces or neo-liberalism. The TURK-i§, the major moderate Confederation of Workes Unions adopted a rhetoric that resembled those of the SHP and CHP, but did not openly support these parties (KO£ 1998, 151). Like the SHP, the nCHP, too, moved away from being an advocate of 17

18

On why the government did not receive a vote of confidence, see the section on the Motherland Party in this Chapter below. Turkey had given an ultimatum to Syria and asked that country to give up Ocalan or suffer the consequences, and Ocalan had started his long escape first to Russia, then to Italy, and finally to Kenya where he was captured.

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'social democracy' and began to emphasize democratization as well as secularization. Yet, while in government it could not achieve any significant progress on these issues. At the 24 December 1995 general elections the nCHP barely cleared the nationwide election threshold with a vote of 10.7% and came in fifth. In the post-1995 general election period, the nCHP has not joined any government. Baykal dominated the party. There were complaints that Baykal did not act in an egalitarian manner towards various groups in the party. The party maintained its increased pro-private sector stance. It placed particular emphasis on strict secularism — religion having no other role than that of constituting a belief system. The CHP supported the DSP-ANAP-DTP coalition discussed above from the outside. However, Baykal wished to constantly remain in the limelight. His 'support' in fact turned out to be frequent blackmail. He wanted to give the impression that all significant decisions carried his stamp and that he alone safeguarded secularism in Turkey. He then started to ask for early elections and joined the Opposition to accuse Yilmaz of corruption. On the eve of the 18 April 1999 elections Baykal realized that public opinion had turned against him because of his querulous political behavior and because he had been undermining a pro-secularist coalition. He thus based his election campaign almost solely on the defense of strict secularism in Turkey. The result was that at the elections the nCHP could obtain only 8.7 per cent of the votes, a drop of another 3.4 from its percentage in the 1995 general elections. Thus the party could not clear the national threshold of 10 per cent to return members to Parliament. Baykal resigned from the chairmanship of the party and was replaced by Altan Oymen. The Democratic Party (1945-1960) In spring 1945, during the budget debates in Parliament, some CHP parliamentarians, including Celal Bayar and Adnan Menderes,19 criticized the CHP government's past performance. Celal Bayar, Adnan Menderes, Refik Koraltan, Fuad Kopriilu, and Emin Sazak gave 'no' votes to the budget law. Then, during the debates in Parliament on Land Reform Law, Bayar, Menderes, Koraltan and Kopriilii submitted their so-called Proposal of the Four (Dortlii Takrir). They argued that Parliament should have effective powers of control over government, a multi-party system should be established, and the basic rights and freedoms cited in the (1924) Constitution should be granted to citizens ( K A R P A T 1959, 143-144). The proposal was rejected. Menderes, Koraltan, and Kopriilii continued to criticize the government and, as a consequence, they were dismissed from the party. Bayar himself resigned first from the CHP and then from Parliament.

" A d n a n Menderes (1899-1961): Politician. One of the co-founders of the DP. The DP's Prime Minister in the 1950s decade. Was tried by the High Court of Justice created by the 27 May 1960 military interveners and given death penalty that was carried out.

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On 7 January 1946, the signatories of the Proposal of the Four formed the Democratic Party (DP). Bayar became the chairperson of the party. As noted above, President Inonii's opening speech of Parliament in which Inonii had expressed the need for a credible opposition party on 1 November 1945, had encouraged Bayar and his associates. Turkey's drawing closer to the Anglo-American axis as a consequence of the Soviet Union's expansionist policies in the aftermath of the Second World War, the emergence of a new class of entrepreneurs who opposed the etatist policies of the ruling CHP, and some Westernized elite's demands for a more pluralistic political regime were instrumental in the establishment of the DP (EROGUL 1 9 7 0 , 5 5 - 5 6 ; SARIBAY 1 9 9 1 , 1 2 0 - 1 2 1 ) . Consequently, the DP's program emphasized political and economic 'liberalism'. The DP promised democratization of the regime, effective granting of basic rights and liberties to individuals, and greater incentives for the private sector. The DP also was inclined to favor an economic development policy based on agriculture (£AVDAR 1 9 9 6 , 2 4 - 2 5 ) . Because the 21 July 1946 general elections were partly rigged, the DP could return to Parliament only 66 out of a total of 465 parliamentarians. Consequently, at its 7 January 1947 First Grand Congress the party adopted the Freedom Charter (Hurriyet Misaki) which called for the abrogation of "the undemocratic laws which... [were] in violation of the 1924 Constitution", the supervision of elections by judges rather than by civil servants, and the separation of the presidency from the chairpersonship of a party (KARPAT 1959, 182). The DP leadership also complained of the 'suppression of their party political activities' by the CHP government. The CHP government in turn accused the Democrats of pursuing subversive policies (EROGUL 1 9 7 0 , 2 8 ) .

Moreover, as noted above, some members of the DP led by Hikmet Bayur argued that the DP leadership had made a sham deal with the government and urged them to take a stronger stand against the government. President inonii, following lengthy consultations with Bayar and then Prime Minister Recep Peker, made his critical 12 July 1947 Declaration, mentioned above. He invited the government to adopt a milder attitude towards the opposition and asked the opposition to assume a more constructive stance towards the government. This conciliatory statement by inonii helped to heal the hostile relations between the CHP and DP. The harmonization of the relations between the CHP and DP exacerbated the conflict between Hikmet Bayur and his associates on the one hand, and the DP leadership on the other. Hikmet Bayur and his associates left the DP and, on 20 July 1948, formed the Nation Party (Millet Partisi). Hikmet Bayur became Chairperson and Marshal Fevzi (^akmak20 the Honorary Chairman of the party (TUNAYA 1952, 712). Ever since inonii had dismissed him from his position as chief of staff in 1944, Marshal £akmak had become an implacable enemy of inonii (ZURCHER 1993, 224). As Marshal £akmak had conservative leanings bordering on religiosity, the party wanted to use him as a trump card against the CHP (AHMAD 1993, 102; EROGUL 1970, 41). 20

Fevzi £akmak (1876-1950): General and politician. The Republic's first chief of general staff. Served in that capacity from October 1922 until 1944. Was first a member of the DP (1946-1948), then became the honorary chairman of the Nation Party.

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The DP boycotted both the 17 October 1948 and the 16 October 1949 byelections, arguing that there were no guarantees that the elections would be honest. At its second Grand Congress the DP adopted the National Hostility Oath {Milli Husumet Andi) that warned everyone to refrain from violating citizens' natural rights if they did not want to be subjected to 'national hostility' later (EROfiUL 1970, 4748). Later, Bayar pointed out that the resolution was just a warning, and not a veiled means of intimidation. On 16 February 1950, Parliament enacted a law that introduced secret balloting and open counting of votes,21 the supervision of elections by the judiciary, and a High Board of Elections made up of members from the Council of State (the Turkish version of France's Conseil d'Etat) and the High Court of Appeals. The latter Board was responsible for overseeing elections. The DP won Turkey's first free elections of 14 May 1950 by obtaining 53.3 per cent of the votes. Celal Bayar became President and Menderes to be Prime Minister. They served in that capacity for the next ten years. On 9 June 1950, the General Executive Board of the party elected Adnan Menderes the chairperson of the party. Adnan Menderes occupied that post until the party was closed in 1960. The DP leaders had earlier served in the CHP. They subscribed to the basic tenets of the Republic. On the other hand, Celal Bayar was pro-private sector. Adnan Menderes represented the agricultural interests. Professor Fuat Kopriilu, another founder of the party, was essentially a liberal. All three were against an emphasis on the state at the expense of the nation, though Celal Bayar and Adnan Menderes were not averse to resorting to authoritarian measures if they perceived their political fortunes in peril (AHMAD 1977, 79-102). Because of its emphasis on individual rights and liberties, in the late 1940s and the early 1950s, the liberal intelligentsia, including Western oriented young officers, supported the DP. While in power, the CHP had been too aloof from the masses and acted in an unresponsive manner to their wishes and aspirations even after a revolution of expectations had started to take place (GUNE§ 1996, 83-88). Once in power, the DP came up with generous subsidies to commercial groups and offered favorable prices, to the products of farmers. Consequently, these groups too supported the DP (£AVDAR 1996, 18; EROGUL 1970, 58-62). The Democrats began their first term in office (1950-1954) by bringing to the High Command officers who were presumed to have sympathies for the DP (AHMAD 1977, 79, 153). At this time, the DP governments took important steps to liberalize the economy. In 1951, a law to encourage foreign investments was enacted. In accordance with this law, investments in industry, energy, mining, transportation and tourism were supported. Taking advantage of the Central Bank's gold and foreign exchange reserves accumulated during the Second World War, the opportunity to export some agricultural products such as cotton at high prices in particular during the Korean War, and the launching of the Marshall Plan and, therefore, of the possibility of obtaining foreign loans, the DP started a major program of highway construction and provided credits for the mechanization of

21

Earlier, counting was secret and balloting open!

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agriculture. Both policies significantly increased agricultural production. Consequently, the DP came to be favored even more so by the masses (HALE 1981, 86-11).

Turning now to their social policies during their first term in office, the Democrats lifted the ban on the chanting of the call to prayer (ezari) in Arabic (16 June 1950). Also while earlier, in order to take courses on religion at school, children had to have their parents' written permission, now unless their parents did not want their child to take courses on religion the pupil was obliged to take such courses. These social policies were in line with the DPs emphasis on the 'national will' (milli irade). The DP perceived itself as the champion of the masses against the modernizing bureaucratic state (HEPER 1985,99). On the other hand, as mentioned, having come from the ranks of the CHP, the Democrats subscribed to the Republican reforms. On 21 July 1951, a law was enacted to protect the said reforms. In 1953, the Nation Party (Millet Partisi) was closed on the grounds that the party had acted against secularism. (The party reemerged the next year as the Republican Nation Party (Cumhuriyetgi Millet Partisi.) In foreign policy, the DP governments pursued policies that brought Turkey closer to the West. One such policy decision was that of sending troops to the Korean War (1952). Turkey joined the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, and in 1953 and 1955 Turkey became a member of the Balkan Pact and Baghdad Pact, respectively. During their first term in office, the DP began to treat the opposition in a harsh manner. They confiscated CHP property, arguing that it had been illegally acquired (EROGUL 1970, 86-87). The Democrats also closed the People's Houses, which had been opened by the Republicans in order to provide a general education to the masses, on the grounds that 'their assets were illegally acquired (HEPER 1998, 110). In the 2 May 1954 general elections, the DP increased its share of the vote from 53.3 to 56.6 per cent. In the second term of the DP governments (1954-1957), the economy began to face bottlenecks. The terms of trade with the outside world were no longer favorable, the gold and foreign exchange reserves had decreased considerably, and difficulties were faced in paying back the foreign loans (EROGUL 1970, 120-222; AHMAD 1977, 52-53). The opposition stepped up its criticism of the government, in particular on matters of basic rights and freedoms, 'concessions to religion', and 'a too liberal attitude towards foreign economic interests' (HEPER 1998, 196-208). In turn, the DP government resorted to greater authoritarianism and began to take measures against the press in particular. When newspapers criticized the government they were deprived of the right to substantiate their claims and were summarily punished for having shown contempt for the government (AHMAD 1977, 63-67). The province of Kir§ehir was made a sub-province because in the 1954 elections the voters in that province had overwhelmingly supported the Nation Party (EROGUL 1970, 114-115). The university autonomy was substantially curtailed (EROGUL 1970, 137). The adoption of such an authoritarian stance by the DP government led to dissatisfaction among some liberal members of the party, who seceded from the party and, on 20 December 1955, formed the Freedom Party (.Hurriyet Partisi) (DODD 1969,44-45).

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In the 2 7 October 1957 general elections, the DP garnered 47.7 per cent of the votes, a drop of 9.9 per cent from their 1954 vote. In the last term of the DP governments (1957-1960), initially the economy picked up thanks to the austerity measures adopted in accordance with the agreement with a consortium of creditor countries. Those measures included the drastic devaluation of the Turkish lira, too (4 August 1958) (HALE 1981, 106-107). Another favorable development for the DP at the time was the miraculous survival of Prime Minister Menderes from a plane crash near Gatwick Airport in London. Democrats used this incident to re-obtain political support for Menderes in particular and for the party in general (EROGUL 1970, 164165). The consortium, however, did not allow the government to make new investments, and the economy again began to face serious bottlenecks. Consequently, the government once again came under heavy criticism. The government reciprocated by taking further measures against the press and the opposition. The government discriminated against the opposition press in the distribution of print and official advertisements. Several journalists criticizing the government as well as the Secretary-General of the CHP were given various prison terms

for

flimsy

reasons

(AHMAD

1977,

52-56;

EROGUL

1970,

138-140).

Restrictions were brought to the propaganda trips of the CHP leader inonu, many of which inonu openly and successfully defied. In October 1958, Prime Minister Menderes called for the establishment of a Fatherland Front (Vatan Cephesi) against 'the front of malice and hostility' (kin ve husumet cephesi) created by the opposition (HEPER 1994, 147). The State radio began reporting the names of those individuals who were said to have joined the Front. The opposition claimed that many of the names were fictional or belonged to persons who were long dead (£AVDAR 20692070).

The escalation of the conflict between the government and opposition ended up in the formation by the government of an Investigative Committee within Parliament (18 April 1960). The Committee was empowered to investigate such alleged activities of the CHP as "inciting the people to act against the laws, supporting resistance to and aggression against the government, arming the people, and politicizing the army" (EROGUL 1970, 175-176). The Committee was granted extraordinary powers, including the right to deny permission for political party meetings. The Committee's decisions were to be final. At the time it was predicted that the Democrats had in mind the closing of the CHP. On 28-29 April 1960, the university students in Istanbul and Ankara began demonstrating against the government. This was followed by a silent protest march of the War College students in Ankara (21 May 1960). The government imposed martial law in such urban centers as Istanbul and Ankara. On 27 May 1960, the military intervened. A special tribunal set up for this purpose tried the DP parliamentarians. The capital punishments were given to twelve DP parliamentarians. Out of these, those for Adnan Menderes, Foreign Minister Fatin Ru§tii Zorlu, and Minister of Finance Hasan Polatkan were ratified by the National Unity Committee of the junta and were carried out. Other capital punishments were converted to life terms. Very few of the parliamentarians were acquitted. The DP was closed on 29 Septem-

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ber 1960. The imprisoned Democrats later benefited from a political amnesty granted in 1964. The Successor Parties to the DP: the Justice Party (Adalet Partisi — AP) (1961-1980) The Justice Party (AP) was founded on 11 February 1961. It was the major party to fill the vacuum left on the right of the political spectrum as a consequence of the 1960 military intervention. The party's first chairperson was General Ragip Gumii§pala who was recently retired as part of the large purge in the military by the junta. Giimu§pala was brought to that post to placate the military. This must have been considered as a necessary move by DP leaders for the AP had taken over the mantle of the DP. The AP opposed the ratification of the 1961 Constitution by referendum. During the 1961 general elections, the AP criticized the military even though mildly. Following the 1961 general elections, the AP frequently brought to the political agenda the issue of a political amnesty for the former Democrats. The AP was a liberal-conservative mass party. It had a tolerant attitude towards the religious aspirations of the people. Not unlike the DP, the AP, too, acted responsively to the rural interests. The party supported free trade and enterprise (LEVI 1 9 9 1 , 1 4 1 - 1 4 2 ) .

In the 15 October 1961 general elections, the AP obtained 34.8 per cent of the votes and came second behind the CHP. In November 1961, the AP entered into a coalition government with the CHP. The coalition lasted until May 1962. Upon Giimu§pala's death in November 1964, Siileyman Demirel22 became the Chairperson of the party and stayed in that post until the party was closed in 1980. In February 1965, the AP joined independent Senator Suat Hayri Urguplii's coalition government, and Demirel became Deputy Prime Minister. In the 10 October 1965 general elections, the AP obtained 52.9 per cent of the votes and formed a government all by itself. Demirel became Prime Minister. In the 12 October 1969 general elections, too, the party was successful, having obtained 46.5 per cent of the votes and again the majority of seats in Parliament. These were 22

Siileyman Demirel (b. 1924): Civil engineer, civil servant, and politician. Elected the chairperson of the AP in November 1964. In February 1965-October 1965, served as minister of state and deputy prime minister in Suat Hayri Urguplii's government. Following the 10 November 1965 general elections, became Prime Minister. On 12 March 1971, resigned from prime ministry when the military intervened. In the 1970s, headed two coalition governments (first with the National Salvation Party, Nationalist Action Party and the Republican Reliance Party in March 1975-June 1977, the second with the National Salvation Party and Nationalist Action Party in July 1977December 1977) and a minority government (November 1979-September 1980). In the aftermath of the 12 September 1980 military intervention, along with other political leaders, banned from active politics for ten years. From behind the scenes, masterminded the formation of the Grand Turkey Party and the True Path Party (DYP). Following the lifting of the ban on the pre-1980 political leaders on 24 September 1987, became the chairperson of the DYP. In November 1991-May 1993, headed the DYP-Social Democratic Populist Party (SHP) coalition. On 16 May 1993, became President of the Republic.

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the years the AP was strong in the urban areas and also in those rural areas where market-economy had developed. The party had close relations with the business world, the local notables in the smaller cities and towns, and big landowners. Shopkeepers and small artisans also supported the AP (FREY 1965, 3 8 1 ; DODD 1990, 9). In brief, in the second part of the 1960s, the AP had wide support, having emphasized economic growth, the 'national will' against the intellectualbureaucratic-military hegemony, and traditional values. The AP had adopted a largely populist policy that was effectively carried out through a large network of patron-client relations. Under the favorable conditions of rapid economic growth in agriculture and the success of the AP's economic policies in other areas, small entrepreneurs were supported and real increases in salaries and wages were achieved (ÇAVDAR 2092). Demirel referred to the AP's vision as 'Great Turkey' (Biiyiik Tiirkiye). The/IP's Great Turkey Project included plans for building a series of dams in the country. At the time, Demirel was referred to as 'the king of dams' (barajlar krali). The AP was basically a secular political party. However, it acted as a countervailing power vis-à-vis the bureaucratic state the pre-Ecevit CHP had set up in Turkey (LEVI 1991, 144-146). On the other hand, not unlike the other political parties in Turkey, the AP too tended to act in a less than responsive manner towards the civil societal organizations, including the representatives of the interest groups (HEPER 1991, 16). While earlier the AP governments were more tolerant towards opposition of the various groups to their policies, they became less so from the mid1970s onwards. At the end of the 1960s, conflicts developed within the AP and, consequently, some groups left the party. The first to part company were some influential religious personages and a hard-line right-wing group; these two groups formed the National Order Party (Milli Nizam Partisi) and the Nationalist Action Party (Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi), respectively. Demirel and his associates also came under criticism by some conservative deputies led by the venerable Sadettin Bilgiç, for 'procrastinating' concerning the issue of political amnesty for the former Democrats. Parallel to these cleavages was the increased rift between industrial-urban and business-rural interests. As a consequence, Ferruh Bozbeyli (respected Parliament Speaker in the late 1960s) and his associates who represented the business-rural interests, left the party and formed the Democratic Party (Demokratik Parti) (ÔNDER 2102-2103). During the late 1960s and the early 1970s, Turkey witnessed an intense left-right conflict that quickly escalated to armed clashes between the two groups and even showed signs of an emerging political anarchy. Involved in these clashes were some militant leftist and rightist activists as well as students and workers (ZÙRCHER 1993, 266-277). On 12 March 1971, the military carried out a 'coup by memorandum'. The Demirel government was forced to resign. The AP gave ministers to all of the four 'above party' governments formed during the interregnum (1971-1973) and supported some of the policies of those governments. At the same time, the party conducted a continuous struggle to undermine the military's influence (AHMAD

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1977, 300). In spring 1973, with the CHP's co-operation, the party was successful in thwarting the hard-liner former Chief of General Staff Faruk Giirler's bid for presidency. The CHP and the AP together managed to have mild-mannered and liberal (retired) Admiral Fahri Korutiirk (a former Commandant of Navy) elected to that post. Due to the continuing divisions within the right, from the late 1960s onwards the party had begun to lose votes to the CHP in the urban areas. The AP managed to garner only 28.9 per cent of the votes in the 14 October 1973 general elections, and it came second behind the CHP. However, in 1975, Demirel managed to divide Bozbeyli's Democratic Party and have half of its membership switch to the AP. In March 1975, with Necmettin Erbakan's Nationalist Salvation Party, Alparslan Turkey's Nationalist Action Party, and Turhan Feyzioglu's Republican Reliance Party, Demirel formed a coalition government. This government was presented as the 'nationalist front government'; it had to act against the threats from the left (AHMAD 1993,165). Under this government, political violence again escalated. Also, during the second part of the 1970s, the economy faced serious bottlenecks. The AP had traditionally pursued an economic policy of growth based on import-substitution industrialization that enjoyed state support and protection, and was orientated towards the internal markets. In the late 1970s, this policy could no longer be successful. With galloping inflation and worsening terms of trade, the economic situation steadily deteriorated. In the 5 June 1977 general elections, the party managed to obtain 36.9 per cent of the votes, but nevertheless again became the second party behind the CHP. In August 1977, Demirel formed his second nationalist front government with the National Salvation Party and the Nationalist Action Party, this time around leaving out the centrist Republican Reliance Party. It was at this time that Demirel categorically stated that nobody could force him to say that 'the rightists were committing crimes in Turkey' (£AVDAR 1995, 245). The second nationalist front government lasted until the end of 1977, when at the call of Biilent Ecevit, the leader of the CHP, some of the AP deputies joined the CHP. When the CHP did very badly at the October 1979 by-elections and the Ecevit government resigned, Demirel formed a minority government supported from outside by the National Salvation Party and Nationalist Action Party. At the time, the AP had begun to increasingly represent big industry and business while both were being articulated to the global economy. Demirel's minority government took the critical 24 January 1980 austerity measures (£AVDAR 1995, 258-259), which were instrumental in introducing free competition to the economy and starting the long-term transformation of the economy from an inward-looking import-substitution one to an outward-looking export-promotion one. However, the government could not bring under control the political violence that had once again escalated. Related to the political violence was the all-time high ideological polarization, political fragmentation, and constant bickering between political parties. All this was coupled with a political immobilism as was evident in the inability of Parliament to elect a new president for five months when Korutiirk's term came to an end. The military once again intervened (12 September 1980),

168

Metin Heper

having earlier sent a warning message, and asked the party leaders to take concerted action concerning in particular the problem of law and order. On 16 October 1980, along with the other parties, the AP was closed by the military. The True Path Party (Dogru Yol Partisi — DYP) (1983 to the present) Following the re-transition to multi-party politics in 1982, one of the political parties that emerged on the center-right was the Great Turkey Party {Buyiik Turkiye Partisi — BTP), which was established as a successor party to the AP. The National Security Council of the 1980-1983 junta closed the BTP on the grounds that the party was no different from the AP. The junta thought that the consolidation of democracy in Turkey could be achieved only if the new multi-party period started with a clean slate. They wished Turkey to have parties more responsible than the ones that, in their opinion, had brought democracy in Turkey to the brink of total collapse (HEPER 1985, 134-135). The BTP's closure was followed by the formation of the True Path Party (DYP) (23 June 1983), which had the same expressed purpose of filling the vacuum created by the closure of the AP. Ahmet Nusret Tuna became the DYP's first chairperson. The DYP could not compete in the 6 November 1983 general elections because some of its founding members in the three successive lists submitted to the National Security Council of the junta were vetoed by the Council for the same reason that the BTP was closed. Consequently, the party could not have the required 30-founding members before the 24 August 1983 deadline. As Chairperson Tuna, too, was among those vetoed, Yildinm Avci became the DYP's next chairperson. The next hurdle the DYP had to overcome was the suit filed by the Prosecutor of the Republic to the Constitutional Court with the allegation that the party had been engaged in activities in violation of the Political Parties Act and, therefore, the party should be closed. The Court acquitted the DYP. It was not, therefore, surprising that from the very beginning the party's vision revolved around the twin themes of democracy and democratization (ACAR 1991, 194). The party held its first Grand Congress on 14 May 1985 — at the thirty-fifth anniversary of the coming to power of the DP. Hiisamettin Cindoruk replaced Tuna as the new chairperson of the party. Cindoruk's strongly worded accusations that the 1983 general elections lacked legitimacy because the 'national will' could not be freely expressed, did not find sympathetic resonance with the electorate who still remembered the bitter political strife and bickering of the pre-1980 period. Cindoruk's particular stance on this issue derived from his belief that if left to thenown devices, people would always support the AP-DYP line. AP-DYP leaders perceived the AP and the DYP as the spokespersons of the 'national will' (ACAR 1991, 195). Thanks to the fact that a number of Nationalist Democracy Party parliamentarians switched to the DYP, the DYP succeeded in forming a Parliamentary Group. In the 28 September 1986 by-elections, the party obtained 23.5 per cent of the votes and returned four MPs to Parliament. At the 6 September 1987 referendum the ban on the political activities of the pre-1980 politicians was lifted (by 50.3 per cent 'yes'

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votes versus 49.7 per cent 'no' votes). As a consequence, on 24 November 1987, Siileyman Demirel took over the chairpersonship of the party from Cindoruk — the last 'caretaker' chairperson. All along Demirel had kept alive his contacts with his supporters all over the country. Under Demirel, the DYP placed emphasis on the social state and the welfare of the person on the street (CIZRE-SAKALLIOGLU 1996, 146). For the DYP, these goals constituted an important dimension of democracy and democratization. Consequently, the civilianization project devised during the Cindoruk period and pursued intact in the Demirel era aimed at abrogating the 'undemocratic provisions' in the 1982 Constitution. The DYP under Cindoruk and Demirel aimed at the lifting of the Provisional Article 4 of the 1982 Constitution that banned the political activities of the pre-1980 politicians. They also wanted to do away with the Article 15 of that Constitution which removed the decisions of the National Security Council of the interregnum from the jurisdiction of the courts. In order to realize these objectives the DYP attempted to forge a loose alliance with the left-liberal civil society-orientated circles. The goals the DYP pursued were in the last analysis based on the notion of 'free democracy' (hiir demokrasi), that is, 'unquestionable superiority and unhindered exercise of the national will' (ACAR 1991, 195), which, as noted above, was also the DP's pet project. In the realization of this goal, the DYP faced a number of difficulties. First, as noted above, with the pre-1980 turmoil still fresh in their memory, the people did not look with favor to the DYP1 s 'anti-militarism'. Secondly, the anti-militarism in question did not sit well with the AP-DYP orientation towards a strong state that would have effectively dealt with 'the threats from the left'. Thirdly, strong anti-militarism clashed with the AP-DYP's traditionally careful line towards the military. Furthermore, due to the ongoing-armed struggle with the PKK in southeastern Turkey, the DYP had to adopt a prudent line in its relations with the military (SAKALLiOGLU 1 9 9 5 , 1 2 6 1 - 1 2 6 2 ) . In the 29 November 1987general elections, the DYP garnered 19.1 per cent of the votes and won 59 seats in Parliament. At the time, farmers, traders, shopkeepers, and small and middle-level industrialists supported the party. Traditionally, Demirel had the image of a 'people's man' (halk adami), who at times chose to speak in a rural, central Anatolian accent. Demirel always felt at home when he addressed large, basically rural masses. Demirel had a basic commitment to distributive governmental policies (ACAR 1991, 190-191). However, as the 20 October 1991 general elections approached, the DYP increasingly distanced itself from the countryside. In the 1991 general elections, the party obtained the plurality of the votes (27.0 percent). Its seats in Parliament increased to 178. The DYP formed a coalition government with the Social Democratic Populist Party (SHP), with Demirel becoming Prime Minister. In these elections, the party came first in such large urban centers as Ankara, Adana, and Bursa. The DYP's succesful performance in these elections was considered to have been the consequence of the party's adoption of export-orientated economic policies. The party had begun to place increasing emphasis on market forces while retaining its

170

Metin Heper

traditional populist mixed-economy approach (CÎZRE-SakallioGlu 1995, 1260). In line with this emerging re-orientation in its economic policies, the party took on board new faces, including Ersin Faralyali, an industrialist, and Tansu Çiller.23 At this time, the basic dilemma the DYP faced was the conflict between the market economy and rolling back the frontiers of the state on the one hand and the social state on the other (CÎZRE-SAKALLIOÔLU 1996, 146). The DYP aimed at pursuing both of these policies at the same time. Demirel's hope that the economic growth that would take place as a consequence of market economy would create resources to finance the socially oriented policies in question, did not materialize because of, among other things, high rates of inflation (CÎZRE-SAKALLIOÔLU 1995, 1261). Consequently, the DYP-SHP coalition came under increasing charges of having completely failed in the fulfillment of its promises. On 17 April 1993, President Turgut Ôzal died and, on 16 May 1993 Prime Minister Suleyman Demirel was elected President of the Republic by Parliament. At the 13 June 1993 party congress Tansu Çiller, who had been the Minister of State responsible for economic affairs, was elected the chairperson of the DYP. Çiller became Prime Minister the next day. Under Çiller, the DYP attempted to place emphasis on market economy at the virtual expense of the social state. This policy could not gain much steam because of Çiller's frequent backtracking to populist measures under pressure from interest groups and because of the significance attached to social welfare by the SHP as well as by President Demirel (CiZRE-SAKALLIOGLU 1995, 1263). In the early months of 1994, fresh attempts were made to privatize the state economic enterprises, render public borrowing less necessary, have a more balanced budget, and to roll back the frontiers of the state. On 27 January 1994, in the face of the financial crisis the country faced, the Turkish lira was devalued. This was followed by the 4 April 1994 austerity package. These measures, too, could not bring down the inflation, and provide for economic stability (Yapi Kredi Kiiltur Sanat Yayincilik 1998, 1062). On the political platform, under Çiller the DYP tended towards a pitched patriotic discourse in respect to the armed conflict in the Southeast, probably basically because of Çiller's dismal failure in economic matters. Çiller largely transferred her powers to the military vis-à-vis the armed struggle in question; she became less interested in maintaining civilian control over the military (CiZRE-SAKALLioôLU 1995, 1263). At the same time, Çiller increasingly resorted to such themes as 'national unity', 'territorial integrity', 'flag', and 'ezan' (Muslims' call to prayer) (CÎZRE-SAKALLIOÔLU 1996, 154). While earlier the DYP's nationalism had made references to such themes as social cohesiveness, territorial integrity, altruism, and a higher patriotic consciousness among the citizens, now Çiller's nationalism began to border on ethnic nationalism. 23

Tansu (filler (b. 1944): Professor of Economics and politician. Joined the DYP in November 1990. Served as the minister of state in the DYP-SHP coalition in November 1991-May 1993. Elected DYP chairperson on 13 June 1993. Served as Prime Minister from June 1993 until December 1995 general elections first in the DYP-SHP coalition government and in the two DYP-nCHP coalition governments, and as Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Minister in ANAP-DYP (March 1996-July 1996) coalition government and Deputy Prime Minister in DYP-RP (July 1996-June 1997) coalition governments.

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In November 1994, the SHP dissolved itself and its members joined the new Republican People's Party (nCHP) that was led by Deniz Baykal. The DYP-SHP coalition government was replaced by the DYP-nCHP coalition, (filler and Baykal promised to grant autonomy to the state economic enterprises (instead of privatizing them) and continue with the democratization efforts. On neither front could they make much progress. Furthermore, the two leaders did not get along well. Consequently, on 10 September 1995, the DYP-CHP coalition came to an end. On 30 October 1995, filler and Baykal formed a new coalition government and (filler again became Prime Minister. At the 24 December 1995 general elections, the DYP obtained 19.2 per cent of the votes and came third just behind the Motherland Party (ANAP). The ANAP had obtained 19.8 per cent of the votes. The DYP and ANAP formed a coalition government; the ANAP's leader Mesut Yilmaz became Prime Minister and Tansu (filler the Deputy Prime Minister. According to the agreement they had reached between themselves, two years later Yilmaz and (filler were going to reverse their positions. Soon several allegations were leveled against (filler for a number of her presumed financial wrongdoings while Prime Minister. Prime Minister Yilmaz, too, shed doubts on his coalition partner's integrity. He disclosed that the five hundred billion Turkish liras that (filler had spent while Prime Minister out of the secret funds at the Prime Ministers' disposal, had not ended up in places where those funds are usually channeled to: the Ministry of Defence, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the National Intelligence Agency, and the like. These developments led to the withdrawal of the DYP from the coalition government. On 27 June 1996, (filler agreed to a coalition government between her party and the religiously oriented Welfare Party (Refah Partisi, RP).24 Earlier, (filler had accused the RP of trying to take Turkey back to the 'Dark Ages'. By voting against the allegations against (filler in Parliament the RP saved (filler from being tried at the High Court of Justice, (filler was heavily criticized in many quarters for having allowed a religiously oriented party to govern a Western oriented country in order to save her skin. After having formed a coalition government with the RP, in addition to her recent tendency to exploit ethnic nationalism for political purposes, (filler also began to overtly use religious themes for political purposes. In the past, the DYP had avoided open appeals or exclusive messages to Islamist groups, although the party had been responsive to the religious aspirations of the people.25 The DYP-RP coalition could not last for long. For some time now, the military had been rather concerned about the increased role Islam played in the society and polity. At the National Security Council (Milli Guvenlik Kurulu — MGK) meeting of 28 April 1997, they came up with a list of recommendations to the government aimed at containing the religious revival, or more specifically 'retrogression' (irtica), in Turkey. According to the 1982 Constitution, the government had 'to give priority' to such recommendations made by the MGK. Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan of the RP, however, dug in his heels and political tension increased. In the end Erbakan 24

25

Refah Partisi has been translated into English as "Welfare Party". Yet, Refah in this context means prosperity, and not welfare. On the DYP and religion, see Acar (1991), pp. 197.

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Metin Heper

had to resign (18 June 1997). It meant the end of the DYP-RP coalition, filler and Erbakan had agreed on a game of musical chairs between themselves concerning the prime ministry. President, Demirel, however, disappointed both and, instead, appointed Yilmaz as Prime Minister (HEPER - AVCI 1999; CEVIZOGLU 1998). (filler became quite incessed about being denied the Prime Ministry unceremoniously. She had hard words for the President and the military. Overnight, she turned into a champion of democracy. She wanted the President, the military, the leaders of civil societal groups, and the makers of public opinion to leave her alone (so that she could do whatever she fancied), while in her own party she insisted on a one-person show. In the process, she picked up bitter fights with almost everybody: in addition to the President and the military with other political leaders, leading members of her own party, students, workers, civil servants, neighboring countries, and the like. Consequently, on the eve of the 18 April 1999 general elections, the DYP was in disarray, (filler conducted a one-person political campaign, harshly criticized everybody, and promised the people everything under the sun. At the elections, the DYP obtained 10.7 percent of the vote and barely cleared the national threshold. This was a drop of 6.1 per cent in DYP votes as compared with its vote in 1995. The Motherland Party (Anavatan Partisi — ANAP) (1983 to the present) Turgut Ozal26 founded the Motherland Party (ANAP) on 20 May 1983. Earlier, as Prime Minister Demirel's chief aide, Ozal had played a critical role in the preparation of the 14 January 1980 austerity measures and, during the 1980-1983 interregnum, for a while he had acted as Deputy Prime Minister responsible for economic affairs. Ozal formed the ANAP primarily with those technocrats who had earlier served with him in the civil service and in the private sector and with those politicians who in the pre-1980 period had been members of the defunct religiously oriented National Salvation Party, the militant right Nationalist Action Party, the center-right AP, and the center-left CHP. Ozal's dream was to reconcile the four pre-1980 political tendencies under the roof of the ANAP (ERGUDER 1 9 9 1 , 153). The party's discourse, however, basically addressed the former electorate of the defunct AP that, as noted, had been a culturally conservative center-right party (KOKER 1 9 9 5 , 1 2 5 3 ) . On the other hand, the ANAP aimed at a radical transformation of the economy (SARA^OGLU 1994). Also, as compared with the earlier center-right political parties,

26

Turgut Özal (1927-1993): Engineer and politician. Headed the State Planning Organization from 1967 to 1971. Between 1972 and 1973, worked at the World Bank. In the 1973-1975 period, was with the Sabanci Holding Company, one of the two largest companies in Turkey. In March 1975, was appointed Undersecretary of the Prime Ministry and the Acting Director of the State Planning Organization. In late 1979, as Prime Minister Süleyman Demirel's chief aide, prepared the 24 January 1980 austerity program. During the 1980-1983 military regime, for a while served as Deputy Prime Minister responsible for economic affairs. In 1983, formed the ANAP. From 1983 to 1989, served as Prime minister. On 31 October 1989, was elected president of the Republic. On 17 April 1993, died of a heart attack while still President

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the ANAP had an urban face. Particularly at the 1991 general elections, the party registered a great success in big cities. Earlier, in the 1983 and 1987 general and the 1984 local elections, the party had obtained votes in all regions of Turkey and in both urban and rural areas. At the time the party was founded, the ANAP presented itself as the representative of the workers, civil servants, farmers, shopkeepers and the like, who, Ozal argued, constituted the backbone (ortadirek) of society. The ANAP was supported by the export-oriented big business, too (ERGUDER 1991, 156). On the eve of the 6 October 1983 general elections, Ozal gave the impression of a moderate politician who favored consensus politics. Ozal refrained from being engaged in ideological clashes and, in particular, in polemics about the pre-1980 period. The ANAP had a pragmatic approach to economics as well as politics (HEPER 1994, 314). He enthusiastically talked about his economic projects, and told people in simple language and in realistic terms what needed to be done (ERGUDER 1991, 156). Ozal underlined his disapproval of the traditional bureaucratic cadres in Turkey, whom he found inefficient and ineffective (HEPER 1989a). Ozal defended economic liberalism with relatively little emphasis on its human face (KURU? 1994, 138-139). With such characteristics as these the ANAP appeared to differ significantly from the political parties that preceded it. For instance, as compared to what the DYP had done, at least until the 1987 general elections when it lost considerable votes, it did not essentially backtrack from its emphasis on the market economy. Again, in contrast to Demirel's DYP, the ANAP pursued a conciliatory policy towards the military. The ANAP's consensus politics differentiated the party not only from the DYP but also from other political parties. While the ANAP placed primary emphasis on the economy, the other parties placed primary emphasis on politics. The ANAP perceived political harmony as indispensable for a great leap forward in the economy. The ANAP could be different from other political parties because there were many technocrats within the party and also because many members of the party were newcomers to the Turkish political scene. The ANAP was a champion of pragmatism in politics. This was because the party tried to garner votes by providing goods and services, and not on the strength of its stand on such grand issues as political participation, equality, and justice (ERGUDER 1991, 156). It is true that Ozal often made references to freedom of thought, conscience, and economic initiative. Here Ozal's particular objective was to clear the obstacles before entrepreneurial activities and contribute to consensus politics, and therefore to political stability, so that a market economy could flourish in Turkey and the economy could compete successfully with other economies (SARACOGLU 1994). This was why Ozal attempted to break virtually all taboos in Turkey. Among other things, at a resort place, Ozal as Prime Minister inspected troops while he himself was clad in a T-shirt and shorts. He also tried to ameliorate Turkey's relations with its hostile neighbors Syria and Iraq. During the referendum on whether the bans on the political activities of the pre-1980 politicians should be lifted, Ozal campaigned against the lifting of the bans. He figured that if the pre-1980 politicians returned to active politics it would create a disadvantageous political situation on two counts. On

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Metin Heper

the one hand, he would face stiff political competition from the newcomers and, on the other hand, the pre-1980 politicians would still have their old political enmity against each other and this would work against his own efforts to maintain consensus politics. As already noted, Ozal did not pay much attention to such issues as political participation and justice; however, he was a defender of the idea that the state existed to serve the people and not vice versa (EviN 1994, 40). Ozal also played a critical role in the smooth civilianization of the regime in the post-1983 period (EviN 1994, 34-39). Furthermore, under the ANAP governments the notorious Articles 145 and 146, which had not allowed the encouragement of class struggle and Article 163, which forbade the use of religion for political purposes, were struck out of the Penal Law. Also Turkey put its signature under a number of charters drawn up to safeguard human rights. The ANAP competed in the 6 November 1983 general elections as the most antistate and pro-civil society political party. The other two political parties that also competed in those elections were the Nationalist Democracy Party and the Populist Party. The ANAP obtained 45.1 per cent of the votes and the majority of the seats in Parliament. The party's success at these elections was due to its skill in the use of mass communications, its emphasis on 'getting things done' (i§ bitiricilik), its having been able to set up the largest and most effective network of local party organization as well as to its moderation, its emphasis on concrete economic projects, and to its image of being the supporter of the lower middle classes (ERGUDER 1991, 155-160). By the 1987 general elections, concerning the economy, the ANAP had emerged as the true defender of an outward-looking export promotion policy in place of an inward-looking import substitution policy. The aim here was to make the private sector the motor of the economy and enable it to compete at international markets. In order to decrease the internal demand and direct production towards exports, salaries and wages were kept low and the state subventions on basic commodities were lifted. At the same time, the restrictions on imports were removed. These policies slowed down industrialization, because there was a decrease in investments. In order to increase the state's revenues the ANAP governments adopted a value added tax, sold the revenue-sharing certificates of such state ventures as the Bogazigi Bridge Corporation in Istanbul to the public, levied new taxes on luxury consumption, and the like (SARACOGLU 199). The ANAP also initiated a decentralization policy; from 1984 onwards, the municipalities were granted substantial authority and revenues (HEPER 1989b). The privatization was another ambitious policy of the ANAP governments (ILKIN 1994). When on 4 May 1986 the Nationalist Democracy Party dissolved itself, some of its parliamentarians formed the Free Democratic Party (Hiir Demokrat Parti). This party did very badly at the 28 September 1986 by-elections and the party merged with the ANAP. Soon afterwards the issue of the lifting of the ban on the political activities of the pre-1980 politicians came to the agenda. The ANAP submitted the matter to a referendum. As noted, Ozal opposed the lifting of the bans; the referendum, however, ended in favor of the pre-1980 politicians, though by a razorthin majority. In the 29 November 1987 general elections, the ANAP's votes went

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down (from 45.1 to 36.3 per cent); the party, however, maintained its majority in Parliament. The ANAP's economic policies were initially successful. In the early part of the 1980s, exports went up; yet the momentum could not always be maintained. The fight against inflation was never successful. Moreover, wages went down while the rich became richer and the poor poorer. Privatization efforts, too, were not successful. Although some of the revenues and powers initially given to the municipalities (1984) were taken back later (1987), decentralization turned out to be one of the relatively successful ANAP projects. The ANAP governments' relative failures in other areas were attributable to the traditional economic structure the ANAP governments had inherited, the outdated economic legislation, and some timing mistakes made by the ANAP governments. Also, the fact that, when it was paralleled by increased corruption, the ANAP's slogan of 'getting things done' was soon popularly perceived as 'quickly getting rich at all costs' {kd§eyi donmek), had adverse consequences for the ANAP's fortunes at the polls (KOKER 1995, 12561257; HEPER 1990b). In the 26 March 1989 local elections, the ANAP lost many mayoralties, particularly in urban centers. This was a major setback for the party. It led to soul-searching within the ANAP. On 31 October 1989, Ozal was elected president. Ozal appointed Yildmm Akbulut as Prime Minister. At the extraordinary congress of the ANAP on 17 November 1989, Akbulut was elected the chairperson of the party. Akbulut had neither Ozal's qualifications nor his drive and will power. While Akbulut was Prime Minister, Ozal virtually single-handedly ran foreign affairs and the economy. Because of Ozal's constant interference in the affairs of their ministries two foreign ministers (Mesut Yilmaz and Ali Bozer) resigned. When, in 1991, Ozal's wife Semra Ozal became a candidate for the chairpersonship of the ANAP's Istanbul party organization, the conservatives in the party objected to Ms. Ozal's candidature. This was the beginning of what turned out to be a long-term clash between the liberals and the conservatives in the party. On the eve of the 1991 general elections, the party felt the need to compete at those elections with a new face. At the 15 June 1991 party congress, Mesut Yilmaz27 was elected the ANAP's new chairperson. At the time, Yilmaz subscribed to the view that liberalism not balanced by conservatism would lead to anarchy, and conservatism not checked by nationalism would end up in a state based on religion. Yilmaz served as Prime Minister from 5 July 1991 until 20 November 1991. In the 20 October 1991 general elections campaign, Yilmaz emphasized his relative youth and, therefore, his (presumed) dynamism and his not having been worn out in politics. The ANAP, however, was not successful at the elections; the party obtained 24.0 per cent of the votes and came second after the DYP. Yilmaz pointed out that the people had given them the duty of opposition. Consequently Yilmaz did not take 27

Mesut Yilmaz (b. 1947): Businessman and politician. Between 1983 and 1991, served as Minister of State, Culture, Tourism, and of Foreign Affairs in different ANAP governments formed by Turgut Ozal. Was elected the chairperson of the ANAP on 15 June 1991. Served as Prime Minister from July 1991 until November 1991 (ANAP government), from March 1996 until June 1996 (ANAP-DYP coalition), and from June 1997 until November 1998 (ANAP-DSP-Democratic Turkey Party coalition).

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Metin Heper

part in the coalition negotiations among the party leaders. The DYP formed a coalition government with the Social Democratic Populist Party and the ANAP took its place in the opposition. While in opposition, Yilmaz decided to act in a responsible and constructive manner. He equated responsible behavior with reticence in criticizing the government. This brought him into conflict with President Ozal who wished to see the ANAP displaying a more activist stance. Ozal even attempted to dictate policy lines to the ANAP. When Yilmaz did not move a finger, Ozal engineered the convening of the extraordinary congress of the ANAP in order to have Yilmaz removed from the chairpersonship of the party. At the congress the Ozalists lost; some of the latter including Akbulut resigned from the party. At the time there was talk of Ozal leaving the presidency and forming a new party. It did not materialize. In April 1993, Ozal died. Some Ozalists, among them Akbulut, returned to the party. As noted, in the 24 December 1995 general elections, the ANAP obtained 19.8 per cent of the votes and came second behind the Refah Party. The developments from that point onwards have already been noted in my discussion of the DYP above. In March 1996, Yilmaz formed a coalition government with filler's DYP, and became Prime Minister. As noted above, from the very beginning this was a conflictridden coalition. Both Yilmaz and filler, but particularly (filler, seized every opportunity to bolster their positions as the potential leaders of the non-religious center-right rather than running the country by cooperating with each other. As already mentioned, when (filler faced a number of accusations of financial wrongdoing Yilmaz did not defend filler; on the contrary, he, too, joined the bandwagon. The result was the collapse of the coalition government (June 1996), which paved the way to the DYP-Refah Party coalition with Erbakan as Prime Minister (July 1996). As noted above, Erbakan resigned from the prime ministry on June 18, 1997 in the wake of the ultimatum-like recommendations of the National Security Council to the government in February 18, 1997 concerning the perceived resurgence of Islam and under the pressure of the tension-ridden months that followed. As already mentioned, Yilmaz formed a coalition government (30 June 1997), the so-called Anasol-D, with Ecevit's DSP and Hiisamettin Cindoruk's Democratic Turkey Party (Demokratik Turkiye Partisi — DTP). (The DPT, founded on 7 January 1997, was s splinter party from the DYP. Baykal's nCHP promised to support the government without joining the coalition.) As noted in the section on the DSP above, initially the government tended towards early elections. Later, the government changed course and, as elaborated in the section on the DSP in this chapter, initiated successful policies in several areas. However, the relatively successful performance of the Anasol-D received a setback with the charges of corruption brought against Yilmaz in the early part of November 1998. Earlier Yilmaz and (filler had mutually supported each other to prevent Parliament from indicting both of them and thus paving the way to their being tried by the Constitutional Court acting as the Sublime Court (Yiice Divan) on charges of corruption. This time Yilmaz was accused of taking sides in the privatization of

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Tiirkbank.28 The religiously oriented Virtue Party and the DYP tabled an interpellation against the government. The nCHP withdrew its support from the government. The Anasol-D could not receive a vote of confidence (25 November 1998) and the government fell. In the 18 April 1999 general elections, the ANAP did rather poorly, coming fourth, garnering only 13.2 per cent of the vote — a drop of 6.5 percentage points from the 1995 elections. The ANAP joined the DSP and the Nationalistic Action Party in the coalition government that was formed on May 28, 1999. As already noted, Yilmaz did not take a ministerial portfolio in this government as he had earlier announced his intention of clearing himself from charges of corruption by standing trial at the Sublime Court. Concluding remarks The political party structure in Turkey moved first from single-party to two-party and then from two-party to multi-party system. These transformations were the consequence of the political dynamics in the polity rather than the restructuring of civil society and the need to represent new social groups or classes. From 1923 to 1950, as the single-party the Republican People's Party pursued the mission of first modernizing Turkey and, then from the mid-1940s until the departure of Inonu in the early 1970s, of consolidating rational democracy in Turkey. The single-party system was considered functional for modernization from above. The two-party system was expected to promote the exchange of ideas and finding the best policy. In the 1950s, the Democratic Party adopted the mission of establishing the hegemony of the 'national will'. Consequently, a conflict developed between the intellectual-bureaucratic elite with the mission of defending the long-term interests of community as they themselves defined it on the one hand and the new crop of politicians perceiving themselves as champions of the interests of the people on the other. This elite conflict heightened political tension. The upshot was a military intervention (1960-1961). Among other things, the 1961 military intervention aimed at preventing one-party dominance in government. The majoritarian election system was replaced by proportional representation. This change in the election system opened the way to conflictual, and therefore instable and non-prudent multi-party politics and, worse still, to coalition governments. The frequent military interventions with their destabilizing effects on the party system exacerbated the situation. Particularly in the 1960-1980 period, hard ideologies replaced more supple missions. The ideologies in question were formulated with little regard for the views 28

Yilmaz defended himself by arguing that concerning his support of (filler against corruption charges, uppermost in his mind was to clear himself of the 'unfounded charges' as soon as possible and prevent the religiously oriented Virtue Party to join a coalition government. Following the 18 April 1999 general elections, he indeed asked Parliament to take the necessary decision for him to be tried by the Sublime Court. At present writing (June 1999), Parliament had not yet taken up Yilmaz's request. On the issue of the privatization of Turkbank, he claimed that he wanted to take measures so that the mafia capital would not control Turkbank.

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Metin Heper

and aspirations of social groups. With some exceptions, on the whole there was an absence of concrete policies and programs to grapple with the basic problems the country faced. Turkish politics vacillated between the politics of ideology and patronage, and politics eclipsed policy. This state of affairs also contributed to the worsened inefficacy of even the mainstream parties in post-1960 Turkey. One consequence was the relegation of the importance of party organizations to a secondary place and the promotion of the dominance of party leaders in the polity and in their own parties. The party leaders dominated their parties. This dominance was implicitly justified on the grounds that each party leader was there to save the country from its worst enemies. This situation gave rise to difficult-to-resolve tension among party leaders. The conflicts among the party leaders were difficult to resolve because in virtually every case what clashed were the different missions or ideologies as well as personalities rather than concrete policies and programs. Difficult-to-resolve differences among the party leaders as well as the polarized multi-party system contributed to fragmentation and tension in political life and once more to military intervention. On the one hand, the military intervention temporarily put an end to a chaotic situation that existed at the time. On the other hand, the military intervention led to a high turnover of politicians at the uppermost reaches of the polity and thus prevented these politicians from gaining experience and acquiring statespersonship qualities such as a certain degree of moderation and prudence. That, in the long run, invited another military intervention. There are signs that this bleak picture of party politics in Turkey may change in the near future. For one thing, in the post-1980 period the military has increasingly become more reluctant to take power directly into their hands and create havoc in the whole party system. Instead, the military is placing pressure on the political elite to pay adequate attention to the vital problems the country is facing and to come up with sound policies. A viable political party life is dependent upon the ability of the parties to fulfill the functions expected of them. Secondly, for some time now, there have been emerging experienced and therefore mature and prudent politicians who are better able to reconcile democracy with the Republican tradition in Turkey. Two of the most prominent examples here are Siileyman Demirel and Bulent Ecevit. A successful reconciliation here would reduce tensions in the polity, bring about political stability, and thus longevity in political party life. Also, the dominance of the polity by mature and prudent politicians that occupy themselves with concrete and sound policies, obviates the need for the military to concern itself with such civilian concerns. Thirdly, the educated people in general, and civil societal organizations that have recently become politically more efficacious in particular, are pressing for a better functioning party system. One may expect that in the foreseeable future the civil society will take over from the military the responsibility of seeing to it that the political party system functions not only in an accountable but also in a prudent manner. Last but not least, Turkey's never ending European vocation is obliging that country to strengthen its democracy by consolidating a political culture of representativeness and accountability as well as responsible political behavior. A development along those lines would further force political parties in Turkey to embrace the primary function of a political party — the

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aggregation of interests — in place of their self-designated function of dictating policy from above and otherwise preoccupying themselves with their inefficient intra-party conflicts. Such a transformation in the political party life in Turkey would further legitimate the parties in that country in the eyes of both the people and rather crucially of the military. The parties in Turkey would really become indispensable elements of democracy and play their proper role in the polity.

Appendix 1 A genealogy of the mainstream Turkish political parties, 1923-2001 Left of center Right of center Appendix 2 Election results of the mainstream parties since 1950

180 Appendix 1 A genealogy of the mainstream Turkish political parties, 1923-2001 Left of center Right of center 1923

[Cumhuriyct] Halk Firkasi/Partisi

1924

Tcrakkipcrvcr Cumhuriyct Firkasi Serbest Cumhuriyct Partisi

Demokrat Parti

Hiirriyet Partisi

V Ycni Tiirkiyc Partisi

—^

Adalet Partisi

Giivcn Partisi

Demokratik Parti

(MSP) Halkçi Parti

1983 1984 1985

Demokratik Sol Parti

Sosvai Demokrat Parti —I Z. I Sosyaldcmokrat Halkçi Parti

(MHP)

— ^ Anavatan Partisi — Dogru Yol Partisi

. Cumhuriyct Halk Partisi restarted

1995 1996

Merger o f C H P and SHP under name of CHP Demokratik Tiirkiyc Partisi

Adalct vc Kalkinma Partisi

Demokrat Parti

^

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181

Appendix 2 Election results of the mainstream parties since 1950 The Left of Center DSP

The Right of Center

CHP 1950

HP/SHP 39.80

DP/AP/DYP/DP

YTP

AnaP

1954

35.10

58.40

1957

40.60

47.30

1961

36.70

34.70

1965

28.70

52.90

1969

27.70

46.50

1973

33.29

29.80

1977

41.38

36.88

1983

30.46

45.14

1987

24.74

8.53

19.14

36.31

1991

20.75

10.75

27.03

24.01

1995

10.71

14.46

19.18

19.65

1999

8.71

22.19

12.01

13.22

2002

10.69

1.22

9.55

5.13

2007

20.85

AKP

53.40

5.14

13.90

34.28 46.66

Radical parties of the Republic JACOB M . LANDAU

Introduction Radical political groups are generally formed, in the twentieth century, by those opposed ideologically to the political and social regimes in their respective countries and/or those who consider themselves underprivileged economically. In the Republic of Turkey, both factors were present, although not necessarily coexistent or equally influential. In addition, the rise and development of radical groups frequently has been inspired by foreign ideas and models which increasingly spread in the Republic. From its foundation in 1923 until the end of the Second World War, Kemalism was the state doctrine and the People's Party the only one allowed to function (except for two very brief experiments with moderate parties, officially permitted). Hence, radical groups had to operate underground or on the border of legality. The start of the multi-party era in 1945 signalled the institutionalization of competitive elections and the legitimization of opposition (even though government actors sometimes branded it as treacherous). Then and even more so since the political liberalization in 1961, several radical parties opted for legal participation in the political arena, while others continued their clandestine activity. The increasing radical involvement in Turkish domestic policies also reflected growing mass participation as Well as marked ideological polarization among the elites and fragmentation in political organization. Broadly speaking, radical parties in the Republic can be differentiated best by their preferred ideologies — leftist, rightist, or religious (TOKER 1971). Of these, the first and last are definitely non-Kemalist and, very probably, anti-Kemalist. In the Republican era, this came to mean Marxist, ultra-nationalist, or Islamist (LANDAU 1974). We shall discuss them in this order. Leftist radicalism On the ideological level, the extreme left was directly inspired by new political and social concepts emanating from the Soviet Union or from West-European Marxist interpretations. The radical response to these ideas was bolstered in the Republic of Turkey by a widely-spread sentiment that Kemalism (despite its merits, acknowledged by some leftists, as an anti-imperialist struggle in its early days) and the state leadership practicing it had failed to solve Turkey's serious economic problems. Indeed, in many circles an impression prevailed that Turkey was still lagging behind the developed countries (some argued that the economic and technological gap was growing rather than otherwise). Almost without exception, Marxist organizations formed in response to such ideas and claims have been more in the nature of small (frequently, tiny) groups or skeleton-parties rather than full fledged political ones. As in several other Middle Eastern states,

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members of religious minorities were frequently prominent and numerous, proportionately, in these groups. Many groups did not bother to register at all; those which did were often prosecuted by the justice authorities and the police. Hence, they rarely attempted to participate in parliamentary elections (The Turkey's Workers' Party, to be discussed below, excepted). Most of their activity focused on propaganda, verbal and written, amongst students and workers in Turkey's industrialized and better-educated Western regions, as well as in the main cities and towns (the guerrilla movements, which developed later, were based in the countryside). Leaflets, pamphlets and irregularly-published newspapers were distributed clandestinely, until the group was apprehended by the police or disbanded of its own volition (CERRAHOÖLU 1975). Many, probably most of these small Marxist groups left no impact. Bearing such names as Sosyal Adalet Partisi (Social Justice Party), Türk Sosyal Demokrat Partisi (Turkish Social Democrat Party), Tiirkiye Sosyalist Partisi (Socialist Party of Turkey), Türk Sosyalist i§gi Partisi (Turkish Socialist Workers' Party), Türkiye Sosyalist Emekli ve Köylü Partisi (Socialist Party of the Workers and Peasants of Turkey) or Müstakil Türk Sosyalist Partisi (Independent Turkish Socialist Party), Vatan Partisi (Fatherland Party), all were set up in Istanbul between 1945 and 1948. Several were offshoots of the illegal Communist Party. They are better remembered for their Marxist programs than their activities. These groups, as well as those established in the 1950s, although differing in emphases, used Marxist terminology, but most postponed demands for world revolution in favor of rapid socioeconomic and political reforms in Turkey, Their successors in the 1960s and subsequently were more extreme in their views. Since 1968, approximately, students and former students became increasingly radicalized leftwards, exhibiting growing impatience with the existing political, social, economic, and cultural situation in Turkey. Some were influenced by students' movements in the United States and Europe, and the Vietnam War. They participated in meetings and demonstrations, clashed with the police, sometimes acted violently, and formed small political groupings, which they labeled 'parties' and which later split ideologically and often disintegrated. These and related circles seemed more revolutionary than reformist, largely due to a greater flow of Marxist literature and press, following the liberalization of censorship. Such publications were apparently widely read, thanks to the spread of literacy, but still reached only limited, educated circles. However, the groups behind this press campaign could not register legally; nor could they preach — a fortiori practice — revolutionarism without breaking the law and risking a shutdown and prosecution. It seems that the main public role of these groups was to spread some knowledge and awareness of Marxism amongst intellectual elites, parts of which were attracted towards a sort of salon-socialism. Intellectuals in Istanbul and Ankara debated socialism and communism and published several books and journals sympathizing with Marxism. Many of these periodicals formed the nuclei around which radical groups were set up. The common approach of most books so inclined was to persuade their readers that socialism alone (generally, in its Marxist version) was the way to solve

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Turkey's basic social and economic problems. One of the earliest such books was ÖZGEN's (1962), in which he postulated the following formulae for applying socialism in Turkey: reform in land-holding, and the nationalization of foreign trade, banking, the insurance business, big industry and natural resources. Other books (such as ÖZEK 1968; Fi§EK 1969) vehemently attacked prevalent laws against striking. Several other works were published, blaming capitalism for much of the backwardness of the Turkish state and society, which they claimed was still feudal, and appealing for socialist reforms, some of them revolutionary in character (BARLAS 1962, CiHAN 1965), calling on youth to organize and rebel, and indicating to the working class ways to seize power. These were paralleled by translations into Turkish of Marxist and neo-Marxist works and by a number of novels, stories by Mahmut Makal, Ya$ar Kemal, Fakir Baykurt, and others, poems and songs. A key literary figure for the far left was Nazim Hikmet, an avowed Communist, whose poems were widely quoted by his admirers (SÜLKER 1967). Many of these and other publications raised hopes for economic reforms and social equality — using Marxist slogans and applying them to the situation in Turkey (LANDAU 1974, 21-29). The debate concerning leftist radicalism, its nature and ways, was sharpened in such periodicals as Yön (Direction) and Ant {Pledge) in the 1960s and early 1970s, followed by others more openly committed to communism, such as Türk Solu ('Turkish Left), Devrim (Revolution), Ileri {Forward), Aydinlik {Enlightenment) or later (in 1992) t§gi Partisi {Workers' Party). While all reflected, to a degree, the socialist-minded involvement of Turkish intellectuals, Yön, Ant, and Aydinlik seem the most characteristic. Yön was published as a weekly in Ankara (20 December 1961 to 30 June 1967) and soon turned into an important forum for public debate, mostly of a 'progressive' (ilerici) type, which was a code word for 'socialist'. The general trend, largely led by the editor Dogan Avcioglu, stood for total independence politically (i.e., against ties to the West), parliamentary democracy (weighted in favor of the workers), state control of the economy (via nationalization and planning), directing production towards social advantages, social justice and equity (against the urban and rural bourgeoisie). These and other views formed a sort of eclectic socialism, whose common denominators were disenchantment with Turkey's current political, social and economic order and hope for a better future thanks to socialist reforms. In general, these were moderately expressed (SÜLKER 1955; LANDAU 1974, 50-64; ÖZDEMIR 1986; AREN 1989; LlPOVSKY 1992, 85-97; AYDINOGLU 1993, 7 7 - 1 0 6 ) .

Ant, published in Istanbul (3 January 1967 to May 1971), was more outspoken and extreme. At first a weekly, then a monthly, it counted amongst its contributors some well-known journalists and writers (like Fethi Naci, £etin Altan, Aziz Nesin and Abidin Dino). Using Marxist slogans, it called for a united front of workers and peasants — supported by socially aware intellectuals, youths and low-income people. In a bold style, Ant appealed for greater activism and for antiestablishment revolutionism, all in favor of the economically deprived. The editor,

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Dogan Ozgiiden, openly advocated 'education for revolution', even defending farleftist youths who had been robbing banks (LANDAU 1974, 64-73). Aydinlik, launched in November 1968, was more openly committed to a Marxist-style world revolution than Yon and Ant. Its editor, Mihri Belli, an erstwhile Communist, and his colleagues, who called themselves 'proletarian revolutionaries', preached a national democratic revolution. This implied both an 'anti-imperialist' and an 'anti-feudal' revolution of workers and farmers for the social and economic development of Turkey, as a preparatory stage for a worldwide socialist upheaval. In the Turkish context, it was argued, the nationaldemocratic revolution ought to be directed against the 'comprador bourgeoisie'. Such views, however, did not seem sufficiently radical for some members of the Aydinlik Group. These, led by Dogu Perin9ek, set up another newspaper, Proleter Devrimci Aydinlik, which laid special emphasis on the land question (BELLI 1970; LlPOVSKY 1992, 109-21).

Political orientations among the radical left in Turkey were split chiefly on legal/illegal and non-violent/violent lines. While most groups mentioned above preferred the loyal and non-violent option, others opted for the illegal and violent one. An example is Turk Halk Kurtulu§ Cephesi (Turkish People's Liberation Front), formed around the monthly Kurtulu? (Liberation) in 1970, calling for a revolution and terrorist activities. Its leader was Mahir £ayan, killed by the security forces in 1972. The characteristic debate within the Marxist left in Turkey was then between a relatively moderate socialism (called by some of its proponents 'Turkish socialism', i.e., adapted to the conditions in Turkey) and more extreme communism. This division found expression in the leading circles of the legally registered Tiirkiye i§gi Partisi (Turkey's Workers' Party), too. Set up in 1961 and led for most of its existence by Mehmet Ali Aybar, a lawyer and journalist, the party's leadership consisted of both leftist intellectuals (journalists and writers) and workers. Although larger than other leftist radical parties, it did not reach, even in its heyday (1965-1967), more than approximately 12,000 registered members. The party received 3% of the popular vote in the 1965 general elections, seating fifteen in the 450-member National Assembly (the lower house of the Grand National Assembly). However, the party's support dwindled to 2.7% in the 1969 elections, when it obtained merely two seats. The basic reasons for this decline in voting support (as well as in membership) lay no less in ideological conflict than in personal rivalries between Aybar and Behice Boran, a sociologist and more committed Marxist than Aybar, and their respective supporters. The 1968 Soviet invasion into Czechoslovakia, which was condemned by Aybar and praised by Boran, was only a symptom of the differences of approach to goals and means — with the former recommending a gradual advance in popular support by educating the masses, and the latter opting for more drastic, revolutionary methods to take over the government of Turkey. This seems to illustrate the choice between the so-called Turkish socialism and communism. In November 1969, Aybar had to leave the party, which was then led by Boran until it was banned in June 1971

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(KARPAT 1967; LANDAU 1974, 122-170; i§MEN 1976; AYBAR 1988; LLPOVSKY

1992, 9-82). The party's ideology was an aggregate of the various groups in the party. It was expressed in several voices, but the party's election platforms and manifestoes reflected an uneasy consensus. While its first program in 1961 followed the views of the party's twelve founders, all trade unionists, later ones rendered the opinions agreed to by Aybar and more extreme leaders. Generally starting from the premise that Turkey was still underdeveloped economically, socially and politically, the party prescribed remedies for this situation, based on the country's human potential. It preferred reforms to revolution, especially in the economy, labor, education, health, housing, and defense. Calling for a more equitable distribution of wealth, it placed itself in the forefront of the poor working masses. Emphasis was laid on improving the lot of youth, chiefly at the universities. More than once, the party stressed its positive stand for the nationalization of petroleum and other minerals, a reform in land-holding and land-tenure, legislation to assist the unemployed, insurance and age-old pensions, and the like (LANDAU 1974, 137170; LlPOVSKY 1992, 9-66). Turkiye Komiinist Partisi (The Communist Party of Turkey) has been at the radical far-end of Marxism in Turkey throughout its lengthy career; it is the only party to survive from the 1920s into the 1990s. Its activities in Turkey began shortly after the end of the First World War; its first general convention, presided by Mustafa Suphi, was held in September 1920. Until 1992, when it became legal, it operated in clandestine cells as a tiny organization of several hundred members which failed in getting grassroots support. Besides repeated quarrels among its leaders and resulting breakaways, it had difficulties in competing with nationalism in the newly-established Republic, on the one hand, and with Islam, deeply rooted in a strongly conservative population, on the other hand. The Turkish authorities banned it and the police investigated it, compelling it to work abroad part of the time. The bulk of its members were intellectuals and students. This was, not surprisingly, evident in its leadership: the succeeding secretaries-general were: §efik Husnii Degmer, a physician; Zeki Ba§timar, alias Yakup Demir, a journalist; ismet Bilen, an intellectual; Nihat Sargin, a physician. The party ideology had some effect on other leftist groups in Turkey. Toeing the Moscow line rigidly, it was rather similar to Communist parties in the Third World — pretending to be the only Leninist party in Turkey and thus the only one equipped to cure all the country's ills effectively and care properly for the less favored members of society. While there existed hair-splitting differences in the interpretations offered by the party's leadership to its own ideology, it was generally very close to the then-accepted

Marxist doctrine (DARENDELiOGLU

1962; TEVETOGLU

1967;

HARRIS 1967; SAYILGAN 1968; LANDAU 1 9 7 4 , 9 5 - 1 1 2 ; LANDAU 1 9 9 4 , 5 5 6 - 5 5 7 ) .

The 1960s and 1970s witnessed the rise of an increasing number of smaller Marxist groups, divided by ideological concepts — Moscow Communism versus Maoism, with numerous variations — their legality or clandestinity, and their attitudes towards a peaceful struggle or an armed one, the latter leading to terrorist activism. Frequently, the latter were an extension of less extreme groupings. One

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example is the Federation of Idea Clubs (Fikir Kulupleri Federasyonu), which spawned the Devrimci Genglik (Revolutionary Youth) organization in the 1970s, often abbreviated to Dev Geng (Dev Geng Dosyasi 1973; KIVILCIMLI 1989). Another is the case of the P.K.K. (The Kurdish Workers' Organization) which, following up the immobilization of the left in Turkey during the 1980s, became increasingly orientated to the left, chiefly since 1984. A Kurdish Halkin Emek Partisi (People's Workers' Party), founded in June 1990, was banned in July 1993. Succeeded by Halk Demokratik Partisi (People's Democratic Party), this Kurdish nationalist grouping ran in the 1995 parliamentary elections, getting 4.1796 of the total vote. It was later banned. The two main characteristics of the radical left in the Republic are: a. its fissiparous nature (YETKIN 1970), due to the huge importance which its leaders and members have attached to the minutest ideological differences, b. The tiny size of each separate radical leftist group, resulting from the above breakaways and from its frequently high-language Marxist propaganda, whose style and jargon could not be easily grasped by the masses. Hence its continuing marginality in Turkish politics where, since the mid-1990s, the only sizable left-of-center groupings, the Demokrat Sol Partisi (Democratic Left Party), led by Biilent Ecevit, and Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (Republican People's Party), led by Deniz Baykal, are more accurately perceived as social-democrat, rather than radical leftist ones. Rightist radicalism A chauvinistic right, a fortiori a fascist one, as found in several other states, was non-existent in the first forty years of the Republic of Turkey. Right-of-center economic interests found some expression within the single party, the People's Party, at first; then, in the multi-party era, in various liberal or conservative parties. Strong nationalist sentiment, which may usually serve as the core for nascent political radicalism, was fostered by the state's own official ideology, Kemalism, via education and the media. Thus, the extreme political right (LANDAU 1973, 277-289) was pre-empted in Turkey by the state itself in locating meaningful goals. Moreover, like the radical left, it was officially prevented from organizing itself in political bodies until well into the 1960s. Earlier, however, some extreme nationalists who considered Kemalism as too minimalist in its external political objectives, found ways to initiate a discourse on Pan-Turkism and its merits. Pan-Turkism is the name applied to an ideology aimed at uniting all peoples of Turkic descent, from the Eastern Mediterranean to Turkestan and from the Volga to Southern Anatolia, into a great powerful entity. In the late Ottoman Empire, chiefly in the years preceding the First World War and during that war, PanTurkism had assumed a politically irredentist character. It was supported then by some prominent members of the ruling Committee of Union and Progress, as one of the possible ways to save the Empire (LANDAU 1995, Ch. 2). After the Ottoman defeat and the establishment of the Republic, Mustafa Kemal rejected all foreign

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adventurism, focusing on Turkey and its inhabitants. Pan-Turk chauvinists — some of them immigrants to Turkey from countries with a Turkic population — fostered and preached, however, their own brand of nationalism, taking an opposite stand. According to their perceptions, a powerful Turkey meant a large one, territorially and populationwise. Accordingly, their conception moved from cultural to political, assuming a marked irredentist content, referring to the Di§ Tiirkler 'external Turks'. The fact that most of these Turkic groups, natural candidates for joining Turkey in a new huge entity, were ruled by the Soviet Union, Greece and Bulgaria — perceived as Turkey's perennial enemies — could only fuel Pan-Turk propaganda. While in the 1920s Pan-Turkism had been latent, it was revived in the 1930s with generally short-lived newspapers and some pamphlets, written by Hiiseyin Nihal Atsiz, a teacher, his brother Necdet Sancar, and others. Probably influenced by Nazi doctrines, their publications combined the advocacy of irredentism in foreign policies with race-related recommendations in domestic ones (against ethnic minorities — Jews, Greeks and Armenians). While not permitted to set up parties, the Pan-Turkists still managed to stage large demonstrations in Istanbul and Ankara, in early May 1944, protesting Soviet persecution of the Di§ Tiirkler. Later, during the Cold War, they were given more leeway. Since the early 1960s, they succeeded in forming groups of so-called Milliyetgiler 'Patriots' throughout Turkey. These and others served as a recruiting base for the first party of the radical right in 1965 (LANDAU 1995, Chs. 3-5). The 1960s were a period of growing socio-economic unrest in Turkey and increasing criticism of the political system. Although the first military intervention in 1960 had ended by the officers returning the state to civilian rule, a lesson had been learned to the effect that the regime could be changed by non-parliamentary methods. The fact that the officers had hardly improved Turkey's social and economic conditions in any meaningful way encouraged various circles, left and right, to seek other solutions. Among the latter, one of the officers who had led the military intervention of 1960 was to be the prime mover in setting up a militant rightist party, which he continued to lead until his death in April 1997. This was Colonel Alparslan Turkey (ERSEN 1976), one of those who had earlier participated, in May 1944, in the above-mentioned Pan-Turk demonstrations. Born in 1917 in Nicosia, he emigrated to Turkey in 1932, later choosing the military for his career. Active in the 1960 military intervention, he was expelled from the revolutionary committee by his fellow officers, along with a few colleagues close to him; these were sent to diplomatic posts abroad. Returning to Turkey in 1963, Turkey, and several of his fellow officers resigned their commissions and entered politics. In July-August 1965 they succeeded in taking over a medium-sized conservative party, whose name they altered in 1969 to Milliyetgi Hareket Partisi (Nationalist Action Party). This has been Turkey's most representative, largest party of the radical right (LANDAU 1982, 587-606); other ultra-nationalist bodies usually consisted of small, ephemeral groups with no real claim to party status (LANDAU 1994). The Nationalist Action Party, on the other hand, climbed steadily in public support: its

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vote for the National Assembly rose from 2.2% in 1965 to 3.0% in 1969, to 3.4% in 1973, and to 6.4% in 1977. Although its parliamentary group was relatively small, it entered the coalition government from early 1975 to June 1977 and then again for a few months between July and December 1977. On both occasions Tiirkej became Deputy Prime Minister. Following the third military intervention in September 1980, all parties were closed down on 16 October 1980. Various leftist groups and the Nationalist Action Party were brought to court. The latter was charged with plotting to take over the government by force; its leaders were indicted with illegal possession of firearms and the use of threats against their opponents. Eventually, all parties reconstituted themselves, during the 1980s, under new names, following the return to civilian life. The party under discussion chose to be called Milliyetgi £ali§ma Partisi (Nationalist Work Party), but in 1993 reverted to its earlier name, the Nationalist Action Party. In order to pass the 10% electoral barrier, this party coalesced for the 1991 parliamentary elections with the Refah Partisi {Prosperity Party, for which see below). Together they obtained 16.9% of the popular vote and 62 seats (out of a total of 450), of which 19 went to the Nationalist Work Party. In 1995 this party failed, however, to reach 10% of the vote when it went alone, in the parliamentary elections, getting only 8.18%; it thus failed to get seats in parliament. It did much better, however, in the local byelections of 3 November 1996, getting 16.8% of the total vote. In recent years it has become salonfähig and is gaining ground both among mainstream politicians and in public opinion, thanks to the polarization brought about by the war with the Kurds. The party has followed its own characteristic way, both organizationally and ideologically. As to the former, Tiirke§ himself, the party's chairman, tightly controlled all moves until his death in April 1997 (since then, his son Tugrul Türke?, has been competing with some of his father's trusted lieutenants, chiefly Devlet Bah9eli, for the party's chairmanship). The top leadership was composed, as in some other political organizations, of lawyers and journalists, but in this case of a sizable number of retired military officers as well. It set up, during the 1970s, 567 branches throughout most of Turkey's 572 administrative districts and some cells amongst Turkish workers in Germany. As early as 1968, it had started to organise its own youth groups, the Bozkurtlar ('Grey Wolves'), evoking a symbol borrowed from the life of Turkish nomads in Central Asia centuries ago. Numbering between a few hundreds and several thousands, these uniformed youngsters marched and demonstrated in the streets of the main cities, fought with leftist youths and were trained in summer camps in sports and in party ideology. Naturally, the party's opponents pointed out the similarities between the Grey Wolves and the Hitlerjugend. Later, one hears more about the Ülkücüler ('idealists') affiliated to the party and apparently intended to provide leadership cadres ( B O R A - C a n 1991). Further, nationalist workers unions were founded to compete with the two existent ones, of which one was uninvolved in politics, the other far leftist in its attitudes. These and other moves were obviously aimed at increasing grassroots support, with a goal of transforming the party into a mass-

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party, competing with Turkey's two large centrist ones (in the late 1960s and the 1970s the Republican People's Party and the Justice Party). The ideology of the Nationalist Action Party (and later, of the Nationalist Work Party) was also meant to increase popular support. Much of it was propagated in the party's organs: the monthly Milli Hareket (National Action), published in Istanbul; the weekly (then monthly) Devlet (State), published in Ankara, later in Konya; and several news bulletins and occasional pamphlets. These included Türkeis Dokuz I?ik (Nine Lights), the party's guiding principles, a booklet published several times and offering the core of party ideology. The arguments were grouped around nationalism, the main bulwark against leftism and the real guarantee of turning Turkey into a great power — strong politically, economically, technologically and demographically. The emphasis on nationalism was, of course, imperative for a party which was attempting to present a centrist position (common to other rightist parties elsewhere, too); after all, it was offering a common denominator to the masses. However, the party had to define its perceptions of nationalism so that they would differ from those of other parties. Hence the dedicated orientation towards early Turkish history and culture, with their romantic Central Asian origins and the emphasis on Pan-Turk unity. All this was skillfully combined with pleas for speedy, effective modernization. While imposing centralized personal leadership, the party asserted its strong commitment to parliamentary multi-party democracy, emphatically rejecting accusations that it aimed at seizing the government by violent, revolutionary means. These principles, determined in the 1960s and early 1970s by the Nationalist Action Party, were also canvassed with hardly any change by its successor, the Nationalist Work Party, in the 1980s and 1990s. Türke§ re-emphasized, during the 1990s, certain elements of the party's Pan-Turkic ideology, arguing that the breakdown of the Soviet Union has proved him correct in his forecasts and that in the new circumstances a union of all Turkic peoples seems realistically achievable. Thus, Turkey, reunited with its sister communities abroad, would become yet again a great powerful state, returning to its ancient grandeur. The Grand Union Party (Biiyiik Birlik Partisi) is a group which has recently split off from the Nationalist Work Party. It has been led by Muhsin Yazicioglu, a leader of the Nationalist Action Party's youth groups in the 1970s. The new party speaks in more chauvinistically radical terms, indicating some inclination towards the Islamists, too. It seems to have adopted the ideology of the so-called 'Turkish Islamic Synthesis', which holds that this synthesis, responsible for Turkey's past glory, is essential for increasing future national success. In the 1995 parliamentary elections, it teamed up with the Motherland Party, obtaining 7 seats for its own members (out of 550). Radical Islamism Islamism — or radical Islam, directly involved in politics — is not a new phenomenon in Turkey or elsewhere. Rather, it may be seen as an integral part of the revival of Islam and of its attempts to impose itself as a central force in society

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and state, variously in different countries. Turkey has been a special case, since Islam, very powerful in the Ottoman Empire, had been largely disestablished from its public power by Mustafa Kemal (whose task was continued, in this respect, by ismet inonu). However, Islam continued to be an active social and cultural force, openly or clandestinely, and revived to some extent during the multi-party and Democrat governments of the 1950s, to reenter the public arena during the 1960s. Numerous books, pamphlets and several newspapers were published, extolling the merits of religion and of its virtues. Under the guise of numerous philanthropic associations (YUCEKOK 1971) and others, some of them active in the grey zone between legality and illegality — such as the Nakshibendi order and other Islamic fraternities — a movement for restoring Islam was increasingly active, laying the basis for mass mobilization in a political organization during the 1970s and later. The Milli Nizam Partisi (Party for National Order) was founded on 26 January 1970 and immediately hailed by the religiously-minded press in Turkey. Although constitutionally barred from proclaiming itself formally as Islamist, there was no doubt about its character. On 20 May 1971, the Constitutional Court ordered its dissolution due to its seeking "to restore a theocratic order in Turkey" (LANDAU 1974, 188-192). Its successor, Mllii Selamet Partisi (National Salvation Party) was established on 11 October 1972 essentially by those who had led the Party for National Order, although prudently disclaiming any connection between the two. The new party, although welcomed by Hilal and other Islamist periodicals in Turkey, kept a low profile, even in its daily, Milli Gazete (National Newspaper), founded in January 1973. It did set about, however, to establish party branches throughout Turkey and to recruit members and sympathizers — emphasizing the party's commitment to moral virtues and traditional values. The terms employed were traditionally Islamic, such as nizam (order) or ahlak (morals), having obvious religious connotations. These motifs, along with the party's favoring technological modernization, were brought up in the campaign for the parliamentary elections of October 1973, in which it placed a relatively large number of religiously-minded candidates on its slates. The party was markedly successful for a first attempt: 11.8% of the total vote for the National Assembly and 48 (out of 450) seats; 12.3% of the total vote to the Senate and 3 out of 52 contested seats. Thus, in the former body, the party was third in size, after the mass parties. Its main electoral support came from Turkey's less developed and least developed areas, indicating its appeal there (LANDAU 1976; SARIBAY 1991). In the June 1977 elections, however, the party lost half of its seats, obtaining merely 24 in the National Assembly. The military regime closed down the party, along with all others, on 16 October 1980. Later, the party was reconstituted as Refah Partisi (Prosperity Party, or Welfare Party). Coalescing in the 1991 elections with the Nationalist Work Party (2.6.3.3), the Prosperity Party succeeded in obtaining 43 seats (out of 450) in the Grand National Assembly. Certain of itself, it went alone in the 1995 elections, coming out first with 21.4% of the vote, and 158 seats. This result, double percentagewise that of 1973, was largely due to the party's focusing on helping socially, economically and spiritually the poor and under-privileged. The party's

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popular appeal was corroborated by the results of the local by-elections of 3 November 1996, when it did even better and obtained 30.4% of the vote. Following various ephemeral attempts to form a government coalition without it, the party was called upon to form a government coalition headed by it. Formed on 28 June 1996, this comprised 19 Ministers of the party (including the Premiership) and 18 of its ally, the Dogru Yol Partisi (True Path Party) — an outstanding success for the Prosperity Party and its leaders. The party's most prominent personality, in all three versions, was its chairman, Necmettin Erbakan (ONUR n.d.). Born in 1926, he is a mechanical engineer, widely interested in technological progress. An efficient organizer, he is perceived by his admirers as an inspiring speaker; his few writings consist mainly of his speeches. Maneuvering skillfully between the two mass parties in the 1970s, the moderately left-of-center Republican People's Party and the liberal right-of center Justice Party, Erbakan succeeded then in joining government coalitions first with the former and afterwards with the latter. Assuming that the Cabinet Ministers which Erbakan appointed then and, again, in 1996, are characteristic of the party's leadership, most are lawyers and technocrats, all religiously-minded — a modern, dynamic group (£AKIR 1990; £ a k i r 1994), supported by the lower echelons of Islamic functionaries, journalists and intellectuals. Although various groups within the party contended with one another, they generally supported Erbakan and the main lines of party ideology. The party's ideology has changed but little during its quarter century's existence. Basically, it was 'God's model', based on the Koran, and directed at obtaining the support of those negatively affected by the current economic model. It was first presented systematically, then repeated, in Erbakan's booklet, Milli gdru§ (National Point of View), which proposed a theocratic program under a nationalist cover (KAYANI 1996) to create a Great New Turkey based on Faith. Suggestively, the program did not oppose a secular system, but wished it to fit the party's objectives or, as he phrased it, 'secularism on a consensual basis'. One finds ample indications in the speeches of Erbakan and his colleagues, the electoral programs and the party's press as well. This included the daily Milli Gazete, most closely identified with the party, published in Istanbul, and several periodicals, issued less regularly in Ankara and Izmir, thus covering Turkey's major cities and their hinterland. The important daily Tiirkiye, too, supports the party, as does a television channel. While the main lines of the ideology were clear, it had to be presented cautiously, so that it would avoid providing grounds for indicting and banning the party (as had occurred to the Party for National Order in 1971). While repeatedly declaring its loyalty to the Republic of Turkey, the party insisted on the importance of moral virtues and pride in ancient traditions. Nobody could quarrel with these, but for the initiated (who felt that henceforth the advance of Islam in Turkey was guaranteed), the arguments spelled a return to Islam — up to, and including, a theocratic state and society. The same applied to the demands for freedom of conscience, which implied the lifting of state controls on religious practices, or the more liberal advocacy of increasing religious instruction as well the opposition to birth control, drinking alcohol,

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betting, and usury, all frowned upon by Islam. When the party joined the government, in the 1970s, it fought against gambling and pornography (as it understood them), again both condemned by Islam (LANDAU 1976, 12-15). In its foreign policies, the party consistently favored a rapprochement with Islamic states, in the economic area ('an Islamic common market'), at the expense of its overall relations with the United States, the European Union and Israel. The 20 billion dollar agreement with Iran for multiannual supply of energy fuels to Turkey (August 1996) and the agreement to supply it with natural gas (November 1996) are examples. To sum up, the 'just order' (adil diizen) advocated by the party, internally and externally, was essentially Islamic and, in 1997, Erbakan was reported to have proclaimed that "the party is the army of jihad (Holy War)" (Cumhuriyet, 22 May 1997, 4). Even if some of the Prosperity Party's messages are ambiguous (SAYARI 1996, 35-43), there is little doubt that it posed as serious a challenge to the state and society in Turkey as the radical left and the radical right. Appendix The incomplete list gives the names of 57 different organisations with their founding dates; the family tree points out their inter relationships. The links in the family tree imply that a certain organisation had its origins in another, but not necessarily that all members in the older organisation joined the new one. The opposite is true: in almost every case, a faction within the older organisation refused to join the new one. 1 53 2 54 3 4 5 6 7 8 55 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Acil. BSP DABK

Acilciler [THE HASTY ONES] (1975) Birle§ik Sosyalist Parti [UNITED SOCIALIST PARTY] (1993) Dogu Anadolu Bolge Komitesi [REGIONAL COMMITTEE FOR EASTERN ANATOLIA] (1995) DE Devrimci Emek [REVOLUTIONARY LABOUR] (1995) DevYol Devrimci Yol [REVOLUTIONARY WAY] (1975) DevSol Devrimci Sol [REVOLUTIONARY LEFT] (1978) Devrimci Halkin Birligi [REVOLUTIONARY PEOPLE'S DHH UNION] (1978) DHKP/C Devrimci Halk Kurtulu? Partisi / Cephesi [REVOLUTIONARY POPULAR LIBERATION PARTY/FRONT] (1996) DHY Devrimci Halkin Yolu [THE REVOLUTIONARY PEOPLE'S WAY] (1978) DÌ Devrimci i§?i [REVOLUTIONARY WORKER] (1978) EP Emek Partisi [LABOUR PARTY] Ekim Ekim [OCTOBER) (1987) HB Halkin Birligi [PEOPLE'S UNION] (1976) UDO Halkin Devrimci Onciileri [REVOLUTIONARY VANGUARD OF THE PEOPLE] (1979) HK Halkin Kurtulu§u [POPULAR LIBERATION] (1980 = TDKP) HY Halkin Yolu [THE WAY OP THE PEOPLE] (1975) I§ik I§ik [LIGHT] (1977) ÌP I§?i Partisi [WORKERS PARTY] (1992)

Radical parties of the Republic

16 17 57 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 56 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Kurt. MDD

195

Kurtulu§ [LIBERATION] (1975) Milli Demokratik Devrim [NATIONAL DEMOCRATIC: REVOLUTION] (1966) MLB [TKP] ML-Bol§evik [Marxist-Leninist-Bolshevik] MLKP Marksist Leninist Komiinist Parti [MARXIST-LENINIST COMMUINIST PARTY] (1995) MLSPB Marksist-Leninist Silàhli Propaganda Birligi [MARXISTLENINIST ARMED PROPAGANDA UNIT] (1975) ÒDP Òzguruk ve Dayam§ma Partisi [PARTY OF INDEPENDENCE AND SOLIDARITY] (1996) PDA Proleter Devrimci Aydinlik [PROLETARIAN REVOLUTIONARY ENLIGHTENMENT] (1968) SB Sosyalist Birlik [SOCIALIST UNITY] (1986) SBP Sosyalist Birlik Partisi [SOCIALIST UNION PARTY] (1991) SDP Sosyalist Devrim Partisi [PARTY OF THE SOCIALIST REVOLUTION] (1975) si Sosyalist iktidar Partisi [SOCIALIST RULE PARTY] (1977) SÌ-2 Sosyalist i§?i [SOCIALIST WORKER] sip Sosyalist Iktidar Partisi [SOCIALIST RULE PARTY] (1994) SP Sosyalist Parti [SOCIALIST PARTY] (1988) Spa Spartakiis [SPARTACUS] (1981) STP Sosyalist Tiirkiye Partisi [SOCIALIST TURKEY PARTY] (1994) SVP Sosyalist Vatan Partisi [SOCIALIST FATHERLAND PARTY] (1975) TBKP Tiirkiye Birle§ik Komiinist Partisi [UNITED COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY] (1990) TDKP Tiirkiye Devrimci Komiinist Partisi (REVOLUTIONARY COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY] (1980) TDKP/L Tiirkiye Devrimci Komiinist Partisi / Leninist [LENINIST REVOLUTIONARY COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY] (1980) THKO Tiirkiye Halk Kurtulu? Ordusu [POPULAR LIBERATION ARMY OF TURKEY] (1969) THKP/C Tiirkiye Halk Kurtutu? Partisi/Cephesi [POPULAR LIBERATION PARTY OF TURKEY] (1970) TEP Tiirkiye Emek?i Partisi [WORKERS PARTY OF TURKEY] (1975) TiiKP Tiirki ye ihtilalci i § f i Koylii Partisi [REVOLUTIONARY WORKERS AND PEASANTS PARTY OF TURKEY] (1971) TiKB Tiirkiye ihtilalci Komunistler Birligi [UNION OF REVOLUTIONARY COMMUNISTS OF TURKEY] (1977) TiKP Tiirkiye Koylii Partisi [WORKERS AND PEASANTS PARTY OF TURKEY] (1978) TiKKO Tiirkiye t§?i Koylii Kurtulu? Ordusu [WORKERS AND PEASANTS LIBERATION ARMY OF TURKEY] (1972)

196 41 42 43 44

45

46 47 48 49 50 51 52

Jacob M. Landau TÌP TÌP-2 TKEP

Türkiye Ì § ? i Partisi [LABOUR PARTY OF TURKEY] (1961) Reconstituted TÌP (1975) Türkiye Komünist Emek Partisi [COMMUNIST LABOUR PARTY OF TURKEY] (1975) TKKKÖ Türkiye ve Kuzey Kürdistan Kurtulu§ Örgütü [LIBERATION ORGANIZATION FOR TURKEY AND NORTHERN KURDISTAN] (1983) TKP Türkiye Komünist Partisi [COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY] (1920) TKP-2 Türkiye Komünist Partisi [COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY] (1990) TKP-B Türkiye Komünist Partisi - Birlik [COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY - UNITY] TKP/MLTürkiye Komünist Partisi/Marksist-Lenininst [COMMUNIST PARTY OF TURKEY /MARXIST-LENINIST ] (1972) TSE£P Türkiye Sosyalist Emek^ £ift?i Partisi [SOCIALIST WORKERS AND PEASANTS PARTY OF TURKEY] (1946) TSIP Türkiye Sosyalist ì§qi Partisi [SOCIALIST WORKERS PARTY OF TURKEY] (1974) TSP Türkiye Sosyalist Partisi [SOCIALIST PARTY OF TURKEY] (1946) VP Vatan Partisi [FATHERLAND PARTY] (1954) VP-2 Reconstituted VP (1975)

The family tree of the Ti

20

the Turkish radical parties

47

33,55

Muslim population movements and mortality JUSTIN MCCARTHY

The wars fought almost continuously by the Ottomans and Turks from 1912 to 1923 — the Balkan Wars, World War I, and the Turkish War of Independence — were among the most horrible ever fought. In the Middle East, only the Mongol invasions can compare in mortality. In European history, only the 30 Years War saw similar rates of death. While this volume is primarily concerned with Turks, it is important to recognize that for this period no history confined solely to Turks can be written. This is not simply due to the intertwining of the fates of the various peoples of the Ottoman Empire in the age of World War I. It is also statistically impossible to separate the various Muslim linguistic or ethnic groups. Moreover, most contemporary Ottoman reports from war zones did not differentiate the ethnic groups of the Muslims, but spoke only of 'the Muslims'. Finally, in most cases the peoples of the Ottoman Empire fought, suffered, and identified themselves by religious groups. It must also be recognized that all ethnic and religious groups in the Ottoman Empire suffered during the awful years from 1912 to 1922. While Muslim suffering is primarily considered here, all groups suffered. The two factors that led to disaster for the Ottoman Muslims in the period of World War I were nationalism and Russian imperial expansion. At the beginning of the period of wars, Muslims predominated in what remained of the Ottoman Empire (Table 1). The previous loss of majority Christian regions such as Bulgaria and Serbia had left the Empire with a greater proportion of Muslims, and refugees from the lost regions had swelled the Muslim population in what remained. In 1911, each large region of the Empire had a Muslim majority. Of all the Ottoman provinces, only Selanik, Yanya and Manastir did not have Muslim majorities, and Muslims were a large plurality in Selanik and Manastir. Table 1. Percentage of population by religion (millet), ca. 1912 Muslim

Greek* Armenianf Jewish

Bulgarian Other

Ottoman Balkans

51

25

1

1

Istanbul Region

63

23

7

4

3

Western Anatolia

80

14

4

1

1

Northern Anatolia

87

10

3

Central Anatolia

87

6

7

Southern Anatolia

86

2

11

1

19

3

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Justin McCarthy

Eastern Anatolia

76

All Anatolia

83

7

19

5

9

1

less than 1 % not included * Greek Orthodox and Greek Catholic t Gregorian, Armenian Catholic, and Protestant Ottoman Europe and Anatolia had always been a polyglot mixture of cultures. The Ottoman Empire was not a collection of geographically separate peoples, each living in their own country. It was an intertwining of peoples. Encouraged by the millet system and Ottoman tolerance of religious diversity, the Empire was a mosaic of ethnic and religious groups. Some regions of Northern and Western Anatolia were almost exclusively Turkish Muslim. For example, Kastamonu Vilayeti and Bolu, Afyon, and Kiitahya independent sancaks were all more than 95% Muslim in population. More often, however, ethnic and religious groups were mixed in the Ottoman provinces. In Western Anatolia, 70% of the population of izmit Sancagi was Muslim, 12% was Greek and 18% Armenian. Van Vilayeti, in the Southeast, was 61% Muslim, 26% Armenian, and 12% other Christian groups. In Ottoman Europe, religious and ethnic groups were even more thoroughly mixed. Christian and Muslim villages were in close proximity, and many villages of non-Turkish Muslims such as Georgians or Circassians. If the walk ended in a large town. Muslims, Greeks, and Bulgarians would be joined by Armenians, Jews, and others. Such a mosaic of religions and ethnic cultures was a handicap to the nationalism that arose among the Ottoman minorities in the nineteenth century. Unlike the compact linguistic groups of Western and Southern Europe, the Ottoman Christian minorities were scattered. Exponents of nationalism among the Greeks, Serbs, Bulgarians, and Armenians faced a daunting task. The lands they claimed as their own were often populated by others. If the lands were to become part of new ethnically-unified nation states, the others would have to be 'converted' to a new ethnic identity or driven out. The process of making unified nations out of ethnic diversity was played out in the Balkans and Anatolia. It was easiest and most successful in the Balkans, where Greece, Bulgaria, and Serbia could each expand their borders, adding new areas to countries where their ethnic groups were already large majorities. Once Muslims were ejected, members of the conqueror's ethnic group could migrate into the new territory, creating a larger ethnic state. It was most difficult and least successful in Anatolia, where large Muslim majorities were not easily conquered. The other factor in the Ottoman tragedy was Russian imperialism. In 1914, Russian had already been expanding South at the expense of Muslim peoples for centuries. When the Russians conquered the Southern and Western Caucasus regions in the nineteenth century they put into effect what is today called 'ethnic cleansing'. While the expulsion of the Circassians in the 1860s is best known, the Russians also had forced Laz, Abhazians, Turks, and other Muslim peoples from

Muslim population movements and mortality

201

their native lands in what today are Southern Russia, Southern Ukraine, Georgia, and Armenia. Mortality among these refugees was high. In 1878, Russia had seized the Kars-Ardahan district of Northwest Anatolia, causing another refugee migration. Russians openly proclaimed, and no one in Anatolia doubted, that Russian expansion to the South would continue. Throughout the wars of 1912-1922, the methods of those who would create or expand nations at Muslim expense were very similar. How much this was planned by governments is not known. However, the reason for the expulsion of Muslims must have been obvious a land with a Muslim majority or large minority was by nature insecure for its new Christian rulers. A succession of Muslim revolts against Russian rulers from the early nineteenth century to 1996 prove the point. A secure conquest demanded expulsion or death of the Muslims. The procedures of forced migration followed closely those perfected by the Russians in their expulsions of Muslim peoples from the Caucasus Region and later applied in the 1877-78 expulsion of Muslims from Bulgaria and from lands taken by Serbia and Montenegro. It is difficult to study the events of 1912-1922 and not think that the expulsion of Muslims was a concerted application of a proven course of action. In each wartime expulsion of Muslims, the same methods were followed: • Regions with a Muslim majority were occupied by outside forces, often aided by an internal 'fifth column'. • Symbols of Ottoman administrative authority and Muslim religion were destroyed. Ottoman officials and Muslim religious leaders were killed or, if lucky, exiled. • Ottoman gendarmes were disarmed, often killed. Local members of the occupiers' millet were armed. • Muslims were driven from their villages through a process of what today would be called 'terror', that is, they were made to rightly feel that they would die if they remained. Irregular forces from both within and without the Empire were prominent in these attacks. Villages were destroyed, their inhabitants killed brutally, and word got out. The people of the remaining villages fled. • Those lands and buildings which could be occupied by the occupier's group were taken. Unoccupied Muslim properties, including mosques and other religious buildings, were destroyed. Muslim quarters in towns were often burned down. In this way, even if Muslim refugees did manage to return they would have no way to live. There were some distinctions in the way these methods were applied in the West and the East, but they were applied ruthlessly in all the wars. The result was the largely homogenous ethnic structures of the lands carved from the Ottoman Empire. The methods were successful until Turkish resistance in the War of Independence saved Anatolia and Eastern Thrace as the last refuge of the Ottoman Muslims. Ironically, the Christian minorities of Anatolia, in whose name

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Justin McCarthy

nationalist wars had been fought, also became forced migrants, leaving Muslims as the inhabitants of the Turkish Republic. The Balkan Wars, 1912-13 Ottoman forces were quickly defeated in the First Balkan War. Montenegro, Serbia, Greece, and Bulgaria attacked on a wide front. Geography was a major factor in the defeat. In Europe, the Ottoman frontiers were so long and threats came from so many directions that it was impossible for the Ottomans to concentrate their forces. In Asia, distances were great and transportation systems were relatively poor. It was thus impossible to bring up forces from the Russian frontier or even to mobilize forces from the Arab Provinces before defeat. Lack of military preparedness contributed greatly to the Ottoman debacle. The Young Turks had committed resources to building the army and navy, but it would take time to remedy Abdulhamid II's parsimony with the military. Lack of military preparedness was particularly noticeable in the navy, which was completely unable to threaten Greek supremacy in the Aegean or to resupply troops by sea. The rapidity of the Ottoman defeat contributed greatly to high mortality among the Balkan Muslims. Forced to flee their villages and towns, the Muslims often were cut off from paths of escape. Refugees from Macedonia, for example, might encounter Serbian, Bulgarian, then Greek armies in their attempt to reach the sea, their only avenue of escape. They were harried on the roads by armies and especially by komitaji guerilla bands. Many incidents of mass murder were recorded by European observers. The main cause of death, however, was starvation and exposure. Their flight had been so precipitous that refugees had been unable to take necessary food and clothing. What they had was often taken from them by their enemies. The regions of highest Muslim mortality was Albania, even though European pressure ultimately kept the Serbs and Montenegrins from retaining most of their conquests there. In Albania, Serbian and Montenegrin troops invaded and destroyed everything in their path. The extent of the destruction indicates a deliberate plan. Not only were inhabitants murdered, but the roofs were taken from houses and holes were driven through the walls. All seed and stores were taken, as were all the sheep. British and Italian observers estimated that the Serbians alone had carried off 700.000 sheep. Those who returned to their villages after the war found nothing, not even shelter from the Albanian winter. The worst destruction visited by the Bulgarians came in Thrace. Because of the vast numbers of refugees who had come into the Thracian cities, exact figures of mortality are inexact, but contemporaries estimated Bulgarians had killed 2.000 Muslims in Serres, 7.000 in the Cavalla region, and 3.000 in Dedeaga?. Judging by the overall death rate, mortality in rural regions of Thrace must have been at least as great.

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203

Table 2. Muslims remaining in conquered regions of the Balkans Region Taken By

Percentage Remaining

Greece

17

Bulgaria

45

Serbia

46

All Regions

38

Source: MCCARTHY (1990) By wars' end, hundreds of thousand of Muslim refugees had already escaped to Anatolia. Others waited in coastal cities on the Aegean. The Greek government organized mass forced migrations of these remaining refugees. The refugees were not allowed to return to their homes. Only refugees from Eastern Thrace were able to return, when the Ottoman retook that region during the Second Balkan War. The Ottoman Government resettled 414,000 refugees in Anatolia and the portion of Thrace (the Edirne Region) that remained in the Empire. The table indicates the population change as a result of the Balkan Wars. Because no censuses were taken in the conquered regions until after World War /, the figures in the table include some migrants who left after the Balkan War period. This is only a significant factor for Greece. Slightly more than 300,000' of the Turkish emigrants from areas conquered by Greece left during the population exchange that followed the Turkish War of Independence. When this is taken into account, half the Muslims of the conquered areas died or emigrated during and immediately after the Balkan Wars. Excepting Albania, 27% of the Muslims of the Ottoman Balkans died during the Balkan Wars.2 35% were refugees who would never return. Diplomatic sources indicate that mortality in Albania was probably higher than 27%, but lack of postwar censuses makes estimation of Albanian mortality impossible. The numbers do not include most of the mortality of Ottoman regular soldiers.3 These suffered greatly. For example, it is known that more than one-half of the Ottoman soldiers (40-50,000) captured in Edirne by the Bulgarians died while prisoners of war. Each of the regions taken by the Balkan Allies now had a large Christian majority.

' 398,849 migrants came to Turkey between 1921 and 1926. Most were part of the Population Exchange. This number includes migrants from areas not included in the table. Detailed figures on place of origin are not available. 2 What are called 'death' here are statistically 'population loss', not 'mortality'. To find true mortality rates, the number of dead must be counted, which was never done. One must therefore subtract the post-war population from the pre-war population from the pre-war population from the pre-war population to arrive at population loss, a surrogate for mortality. 3 Only the mortality of soldiers from conquered territories in Europe is included.

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Eastern Anatolia Muslim mortality in Eastern Anatolia was the result of international war between the Russian and Ottoman empires and intercommunal war between the Armenians and Muslims of the East. Both were the final result of Russian imperialism in the Caucasus and Eastern Anatolia, begun more than 100 years before. During the previous century, the Muslims of the East had learned that Russian victory resulted in the expulsion and deaths of Muslims and that Armenians had allied themselves with the Russians. The Russians had encouraged Armenian immigration into their newly won territories and had supported Armenian nationalist aspirations when it suited Russian intentions. By 1914, the inhabitants of the East on both sides of the border expected that Armenians would be partisans of the Russians, Muslims partisans of the Ottomans. No quarter had been given to civilians during the previous Russian conquests. None was expected in the future. This created a situation in which each side expected to be killed by the other if they did not kill first, a selffulfilling expectation. The Ottomans lost the first battles on the Northern border in December, 1914 and January, 1915. Heavy Ottoman casualties meant that the border was only lightly defended. The Russians advanced South in Spring of 1915. Beaten back, they returned in force in January of 1916, eventually occupying a front that stretched from Mu§ to Trabzon and beyond. Even before major battles began, the Russians were aided by Armenian guerrilla bands operating behind Ottoman lines. In addition to classic guerrilla actions in assistance of an advancing army (cutting telegraph lines, attacking the army's communications and transport lines, striking gendarmerie posts and government offices, etc.), Armenian revolutionary groups attempted to take cities such as Kara Hisar-i §arki and Urfa. They succeeded in taking and holding the city of Van (April, 1915) until the Russian Army arrived to relieve them. The guerrillas attacked Muslim villages and the Muslims of towns and cities. In Van, for example, all the Muslims either fled or were killed. In Zeve, outside of Van, Kurdish villagers from surrounding villages were gathered and killed en masse. Muslims, particularly Kurdish tribes, responded by attacking Armenian villages and killing their inhabitants. It is probable that neither the village Armenians nor the Muslims were anxious for intercommunal war, but the raids and counter-raids made everyone a combatant. Forced migration was a tool of both sides in the war in the East. In the region occupied by the Russians and Armenians, perhaps one-half of the Muslims became refugees. The Ottoman Ministry of Refugees counted 868,962 Muslim refugees from Russian and Armenian attacks, and of course many refugees were not counted. The Ottomans organized the well known deportation of Anatolian Armenians after the initial guerrilla attacks in the East, but many more Armenians fled advancing Ottoman armies than were deported. The Muslims of Southeastern Anatolia suffered worst in the first two years of the war. The Russians, who had some interest in civil order in areas they had conquered, only had the manpower to effectively control Northeastern Anatolia. Armenian bands and Kurdish tribes had virtually free rein in the Southeast. The

Muslim population movements and mortality

205

result was a death rate among the highest ever known in war. In Van Province, 62% of the Muslims died in the war. In Bitlis Province, 42% of the Muslims died. The worst Muslim suffering in the Northeast came after the Russian Revolution. When the Russian armies disbanded they were replaced by units loyal to the new Armenian Republic. These were rather easily defeated by the Ottoman army. As they retreated the Armenians destroyed all the towns and villages in their paths, killing all the inhabitants who could not escape. Cities such as Erzincan and Bayburt were largely destroyed. Other cities, such as Erzurum, though ruined, were saved from complete destruction by the swift arrival of Ottoman troops. 31% of the Muslim population of Erzurum Province died. Conflict between Muslims and Armenians continued after the Ottoman Empire had sued for peace. The new Armenian Republic attempted to retake areas held by the Ottomans at the end of the war, but ultimately could not master land beyond the borders of today's Armenian Republic. Turkish Nationalist troops under Kazim Karabekir defeated the Armenians. The worst suffering during this last phase of the Eastern War came in the territory the Russians called 'Transcaucasia' — the Kars-Ardahan Region (the area of Anatolia that had been ceded to Russian in 1878), Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan. Approximately 15% of the Muslims of Transcaucasia died. Migration during and after the wars makes it impossible to judge which regions had the highest mortality, but combat areas such as Kars, where Turkish Nationalists battled soldiers of the Armenian Republic, and the Armenian-Azerbaijan border, where the Republics of Armenia and Azerbaijan fought, probably suffered a much higher death rate than interior regions of Armenia and Azerbaijan. While outright murder was a significant cause of death in the East, mortality among all groups must have primarily come from starvation and disease. In Eastern Anatolia, where arable land was scare and climate was intemperate, life was always precarious. The normal system of animal husbandry and agriculture provided subsistence, but not much more. When that system was broken by war, crops were not put in the ground and starvation resulted. With famine came typhus, typhoid, and cholera. Suffering was exacerbated by the back and forth war fought in the East-Russian invasion, Ottoman repulse of the Russians, renewed Russian Invasion, Russian retreat, Ottoman-Armenian War, and Turkish Nationalist-Armenian War. Refugees attempted to return home, only to be driven out once again, with new casualties. There was little assistance for the vast numbers of Muslim refugees; the Ottomans had little to give. While a great relief effort for starving Armenians was funded by Americans, very few knew or cared about starving Turks and Kurds. Cilicia Cilicia (the Ottoman vilayet of Adana, Northern Haleb Vilayeti, and adjoining regions) was not invaded during World War I. The Muslim population suffered during the Armenian uprisings at the beginning of the war, but the worst mortality came after World War I had ended. The victorious Allies awarded Cilicia to the

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Justin McCarthy

French. However, French forces were primarily occupied in Syria and were too few to take effective control of Cilicia. Instead, they sent the Armenian Legion, Armenians who had enlisted with the Allies to fight the Ottomans, along with some French officers and French colonial troops. Attacks on Muslims began as soon as the Armenian Legion arrived and expanded as the French conveyed Armenian refugees from Syria to Cilicia. Memories of war in the East had made peaceful post-war reconciliation impossible. At first, the Turks of Cilicia fell back from the invasion. Armed units took to the hills, were supplied and aided by Ottoman soldiers, and came together under the Turkish Nationalist banner. Soon both Armenian and Turkish bands were fighting intercommunal war, with no quarter given to their enemies. The French realized their mistake too late. They attempted to disband the Armenian Legion, only to have many of its members desert and continue the fight. Only when the Turks had developed a force large enough to defeat the French and Armenians at Mara§ (March, 1920) did the war begin to end. As in the Northeast, the worst Muslim mortality came as the French and Armenian forces withdrew from Mara§ and other interior towns to port cities and Syria. Most of the Turkish villages on their route of retreat were destroyed. Turks on the route were killed, as were many Armenians who fell behind the retreating columns. However, French and British observers reported that Armenians who fell to regular armed forces of the Turkish Nationalists were protected. Nevertheless, mortality was high. Only the swift organization of the Turkish Nationalist forces kept the Muslim death rate from approaching that of the East. 7% of the Muslims of Adana Vilayeti and 9% of the Muslims of Northern Haleb Vilayeti died. Western Anatolia The effects of the Turkish War of Independence on Western Anatolia can be viewed as a continuation of the Balkan Wars. The system of forced migration to attain nationalistic ends that caused high mortality in the Balkan Wars was put into effect once again when the Greek Army landed in izmir on May 15, 1919. The Greeks came as agents of the Versailles Peace Conference, ostensibly to secure peace in the region. However, the Greek intent was the same as it had been in the Balkan Wars to expand the Greek national state by forcibly evicting the Turks who lived in the desired territory. The methods were also the same as those seen in the Balkan Wars. Attacks on Turks in izmir and surrounding villages began on the first day of the occupation. As was unquestionably intended, the attacks caused Turks to flee. The methods of expulsion detailed above were followed closely in Western Anatolia. In cities such as Aydm, Menemen, Nazilli, and Kasaba Turkish gendarmes were first disarmed. The weapons taken from the gendarmes and weapons supplied by the Greek Army were then distributed to local Greeks. Ottoman officials were killed. Turkish houses were pillaged and destroyed, with attendant mortality. In some districts, columns of Turks were led from cities and butchered.

Muslim population movements and mortality

207

Many, perhaps most, of the Turkish civilian casualties in the first stage of the war came from attacks by partisan bands. These were armed by the Greek government and given free hand. In the guerilla bands, Greeks who resided in Anatolia were joined by former Anatolian Greeks who had fled to Greek islands after the Balkan Wars and by Armenians. They preyed on Muslim villagers within the region occupied by the Greeks. Once they had organized, Turkish bands also attacked Greeks, until much of rural Western Anatolia was in near anarchy. The actions of the Greek regulars and partisans had the expected result. Turks fled from the occupied zone to safe areas or to Turkish partisans in the hills. British accounts of massacres in Aydxn City, for example, reported that after Greek actions only a few families remained of the 30,000 Turks who had formerly lived in the city. Large sections of the countryside were emptied. The Ottoman Refugee Commission estimated that by the spring of 1921 between 200,000 and 300,000 Turks were refugees in Anatolia. Italian and British diplomatic and military reports indicate that the Ottoman figures were if anything underestimates. The Italian High Commission stated that the Ottoman figures were if anything underestimates. The Italian High Commission stated that there were 475,000 refugees already in September of 1920. The British accounted for 65,000 refugees in Istanbul alone in 1922. When the masses of refugees from the latter days of the war (see below) are included, it is possible that more than a million Turks had become refugees during the Independence War. Refugee numbers and mortality both swelled considerably when the Greek Army expanded beyond the borders originally assigned to the Greeks by the Versailles Conference. Most of Western Anatolia came under Greek control. The British, who had taken control of the izmit Peninsula and surrounding region, turned it over to the Greek Army. The process of slaughter, destruction, and expulsion that had characterized the earlier occupation then was repeated. Horrified British officers reported to London and protested, to no avail. An Inter-Allied Commission reported, "in the part of the kazas of Yalova and Guemlek [Gemlik] occupied by the Greek army, there is a systematic plan of destruction of Turkish villages". Again, London did nothing but suppress the report, just as it had suppressed an earlier Allied Comission report from izmir that documented the same occurrences there. As in Eastern Anatolia, awful destruction and mortality accompanied the Greek retreat from Anatolia. Previously, only those Turkish properties that were of no use to the conquerors had been destroyed; now all that could be burned was burned. Unable to keep the land themselves, Greek troops and irregulars cut down trees, killed livestock, and destroyed buildings. Although most Turks had already fled or died, those who remained and were found by the Greeks were killed. American reporters and diplomatic representatives catalogued some of the destruction. For example: Manissa, 90% destroyed; Kasaba, 90% destroyed; Ala§ehir, 70% destroyed; Salihli, 65% destroyed. At the end of the Independence War, the population of the Western Anatolian provinces invaded by the Greeks had decreased by 1.25 million. The actual number of deaths was greater. (To find the post-war population one must project the

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Justin McCarthy

population back from figures of the 1927 Turkish Census. By 1927 many Turks from other parts of Anatolia had migrated to Western Anatolia, making it appear that fewer had died.) In the areas of greatest mortality, such as Aydin Vilayeti, more than one-fourth of the Muslims had died. Other regions Space considerations make it impossible to consider other Ottoman regions at length. In any case, the effects of the wars on the Muslim populations of the Arab Provinces are more difficult to analyze than the effects on the populations of Anatolia and the Balkans. Analysis of the consequences of war depends on knowledge of population numbers before and after conflict. In Iraq, the population was poorly recorded by the French Mandate Government after the war, in some areas not recorded at all, even though the Ottomans had counted the population earlier. Thus it is difficult to accurately judge the demographic effects of war on Northern Syria and impossible for Iraq. Only for Palestine are reliable pre- and post-war figures available. Because it was a war zone, Palestine suffered from mortality of war and both internal and international migration. In addition, a locust plague damaged crops and caused some starvation in spring of 1915. At wars' end, the Muslim population of Palestine had decreased by 6%. Conclusion Mortality was not the only evil visited on the Ottoman Muslims. In Anatolia, returning refugees found their homes, farm animals, and trees gone. The destruction was too systematic to have been the random result of war. The Turkish Delegation to the Lausanne Conference presented a census of loss in Western Anatolia to the Conference: 141,874 buildings destroyed, 134,040 horses lost, 228,230 buffalo, 1,770,316 sheep, etc. Nearly all the olive trees, other fruit trees, and grape arbours had been cut down. Even allowing for possible exaggeration, the toll of buildings and animals lost in Western Anatolia is incredible. No counts were taken in Eastern Anatolia, but it is known that devastation was widespread. The Muslim Quarter of Van was destroyed; all but three of the Muslim houses were gone. Americans who toured the East after the wars reported that all the Muslim houses of Bitlis City had been demolished and that three-fourth of the Muslim villages of Van Vilayeti and half the Muslim villages of Bayezit Sancagi had been destroyed by Armenians. Other areas undoubtedly suffered similar destruction.

209

Muslim population movements and mortality

Muslim population loss in war zones, 1912-1922 Balkan Wars

632.000

Eastern Anatolia*

1.096.000

Transcaucasia"*

410.000

Cilicia*

93.000

Western Anatolia*

1.246.000

Northern Syria

unknown

Iraq

unknown

Palestine* Total

39.000 3.516.000

* includes military and civilians Note: Population loss from Central and Northwestern Anatolia not included. The table lists the Muslim population lost in war zones from 1912 to 1922. Many of the Muslim dead are not included. These include those who lived in provinces such as Sivas who were not in international war zones, but who suffered during the period of guerrilla war in 1914-15. Mortality among Ottoman soldiers who came from Central Anatolian provinces is not included, nor is mortality from wartime disease and starvation in those provinces. As mentioned above, migration clouds the mortality picture. Konya Vilâyeti, for example, lost 27% of its population during the period, but many of these probably were migrants to Western Anatolia after the wars and before the Turkish census of 1927, upon which post-war population numbers are based. This means that the mortality in war zones was actually higher than listed in the table. The entirety of Ottoman Anatolia lost nearly 3 million Muslims during the war period. If estimates of mortality in Iraq and Syria are included, Muslim mortality due to war must have been well over 4 million. Selected bibliography On the military history of the Balkan Wars, see especially the seven-volume Balkan harbi tarihi by the Turkish Genel Kurmay Baçkanligi (1938-1965); IMMANUEL (1914); RANKIN (1914). CIRILLI (1913) described the suffering of the siege of Edirne. Although the author of the volumes was not identified, the Ottoman Government published five volumes on the sufferings of the Balkan Muslims in the war. (Les Atrocités des Coalises Balkaniques, no. 1-3, Constantinople, 1913; Les Atrocités des Bulgares en Thrace, no. 4, Constantinople, 1913; and Les Atrocités des Grecs en Macedoine, no. 5, Constantinople, 1914). The supposedly impartial Carnegie Commission's Report of the International Commission to inquire into the causes and conduct of the Balkan Wars (Washington, 1914)

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actually heavily favored the Bulgarians, although it contains a limited material on Muslims. The topic of Justin MCCARTHY (1995) is the fate of the Muslims in the Balkan Wars and other wars of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The period from the Balkan Wars through the Independence War is also covered in BAYUR (1953, 1955, 1957, 1967), volume 3, parts 1-4. The best description of the military events of the Eastern Anatolian front in World War I is in ALLEN and MURATOFF (1953), one of the best military histories ever written. On the war in general, see LARCHER (1926), which suffers from a lack of consideration of most Ottoman materials, reflecting the period in which it was written. The most detailed history of the war is the Genel Kurmay Baçkanligi's Birinci Cihan Harbinde Tiirk Harbi (1963-1967). YALMAN (1930) considers some of the effects of the war on the populace, particularly in Istanbul. There are a great number of volumes in Turkish that consider the Independence War, often describing the war in individual provinces and cities. On the war as a whole, see especially the official volume, Genel Kurmay Baçkanligi (1962-1968). BELEN (1973) provides much information on troop movements and battles, as well as politics. TANSEL (1973-1974) is the basic history. Mustafa Kemal [Atatiirk]'s Nutuk (many reprints, first printed in Ankara in 1927 in two volumes) contains an extensive description of the events of the Independence War. On Mustafa Kemal's reports, see MANGO (1999). Kâzim KARABEKIR's îstiklâl harbimiz (1969), and a more complete edition (1988) naturally is best on the Eastern front. KAZEMZADEH (1951) and (1981) provides an overview of some of the areas described in this article, although it is flawed by lack of reference to Ottoman sources. MCCARTHY (1994) relates the descriptions of Muslim suffering in the East by two of the only Westerners to actually investigate it at the time. Three French sources describe the events in Cilicia in the Independence War, offering a considerable amount of information on the Turkish-Armenian conflict there: Ministère de la Défense, Etat Major de l'Armée du Terre, Service Historique (1978-79); GAUTHEROT (1920); and de GONTAUTBlRON (1923). The histories of the Greek war in Anatolia in Western languages say little of the effect of the war on the Muslims. See Prince Andrew of Greece (1930); BUJAC (1930); PALLIS (1937); SMITH (1973). Although this bibliography does not consider other archival sources, one such source must be listed, because it is the most telling description of the effects of the Western War on the people. It is ismet Paça (înônu)'s, Memorandum respecting Turkish claims against Greece, (Lausanne, 20 January 1923, Public Record Office, F.O. 371-9061, no. E969). The most humane descriptions of the Western War are Halide EDIB (1928) and HOLMES (1923). Other books by individuals can be considered official Ottoman statements, because their authors were or had been government officials with access to state documents; for example: Kara SCHEMSI (1919) and RECHAD (1920). Both the Istanbul and Ankara Governments published official volumes of atrocities. These include: Rapports officiels reçus des autorités militaires otto-

Muslim population movements and mortality

211

manes sur l'occupation de Smyrne par les troupes helléniques (Constantinople, 1 9 1 9 ) ; L'Etat Major Ottoman, Atrocités arméniennes, commises contre les Mussulmans du Caucase durant le mois de Juillet 1919 (Istanbul, no date); Les Grecs â Smyrne, Nouveau témoignages sur leurs atrocités. Un document officiai probant, Paris, 1920 Rapports officiels reçus des autorités militaires ottomanes sur l'occupation de Smyrne par les troupes helléniques (Constantinople, 1 9 1 9 ) ; Ministère de l'Interieur, Direction Generale des Immigrés, Atrocités grecques en Turquie. Second Livre (Constantinople, 1 9 2 1 ) ; Second Section of the General Staff of the Western Front, Greek Atrocities in Asia Minor (Constantinople, 1 9 2 2 ) ; Congrès National, Documents relatifs aux Atrocités commises par les Arméniens sur la population musulmane (Constantinople, 1 9 1 9 ) ; Permanent Bureau of the Turkish Congress at Lausanne, Greek Atrocities in the Vilayet of Smyrna (Lausanne, 1 9 1 9 ) . In recent times, mortality among the Muslims of the East has been detailed in a number of books published by the Turkish Government which reproduce archival sources. These include four volumes of the Askerî Tarih Belgeleri Dergisi (nos. 8 1 , 8 3 , 8 6 , and 8 7 , Ankara, 1 9 8 2 , 1 9 8 3 , 1 9 8 6 , 1 9 8 7 ) , General Directorate of the State Archives, Armenians in Ottoman documents (1915-1920) (Ankara, 1 9 9 5 ) , and others. Unlike the other theaters in the World War and the Independence War, the Western Anatolian theater was described in some detail by representatives of the Allied Powers. The best known of these is the Smyrna Commission Report, never published by the Allied governments, but printed by the American Department of State (Papers relating to the foreign relations of the United States: the Paris Peace Conference, 1919, volume xii, Washington, 1947). The other famous commission account, Reports on atrocities in the districts of Yalova and Guemlek and in the Ismid Peninsula was published (Great Britain, CMD. 1478, Turkey No. 1, 1 9 2 1 ) , but was so abridged and altered for political reasons that researchers should consult the original reports. (Report of the Commission of Inquiry for the Ismidt Peninsula to His Excellency the British High Commissioner, Constantinople, transmitted in F.O. 2 8 6 - 7 5 9 , no. 6 2 0 4 , Rumbold to Curzon, Constantinople, 2 0 May 1921, and a number of individual narratives in other sections of F.O. 286). The official report of Maurice Gehri, the Delegate of the International Committee of the Red Cross (Revue International de la Croix-Rouge, vol. Ill, no. 31, 15 July 1921, Geneva) is another independent verification of the Muslim situation. TOYNBEE ( 1 9 2 3 ) was a cause célèbre in its time, but in fact only considers a portion of the atrocities of the time. On population in general see MCCARTHY ( 1 9 9 0 ) and ( 1 9 8 3 ) ; KLTROMILIDES a n d ALEXANDRIS ( 1 9 8 4 - 8 5 ) .

Many of the sources listed above describe the situation of Muslim refugees. ( 1 9 9 3 ) specifically considers the Muslim refugees, as does MCCARTHY ( 1 9 9 5 ) . The official publication of the League of Nations, Report of the work of the High Commission for Refugees presented by Dr. Fridtj of Nansen to the Fourth Assembly, (Geneva, 1923) has a small amount of information on Muslim migrants, particularly on the Population Exchange. Two sources on Greek MCCARTHY

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refugees have a limited amount of information on Muslims: LADAS (1932) and ANTONIADES (1922).

Die historiographische Kontroverse über die "Armenische Frage" und den Völkermord an den osmanischen Armeniern im Ersten Weltkrieg* FÏKRET ADANIR

Einleitende Bemerkungen Seit dem 'Historiker-Streit' in Deutschland der 1980er Jahre und nicht zuletzt seit den vielfältigen Diskussionen und Spekulationen um den postmodernistischen Begriff post-histoire hat sich die Kenntnis durchgesetzt, daß das Verhältnis der Geschichtswissenschaft zu ihrem Gegenstand einer "Gratwanderung zwischen Sinnstiftung und Entmythologisierung" gleichkommt (HABERMAS 1987, 63).1 Auch der folgende Beitrag steht im Spannungsfeld eines Gegensatzes, dessen Pole mit Willen zur Analyse und Rekonstruktion historischer Prozesse einerseits und sinnstiftende Handlung aus kollektiver Betroffenheit andererseits markiert sind. Beachtlich ist dabei, wie die Forschung sich in den letzten Jahrzehnten in Richtung Sinnstiftung hin bewegt hat. Heute steht zunehmend ritualisiertes Erinnern an eine 'Stunde Null' im Vordergrund, von wo aus Gegenwart und Zukunft zu konstruieren sind, eine Art "Festschreibung geschichtlicher Vorgegebenheiten als Deutungsangebote vergangener und über sie vermittelt auch gegenwärtiger Konstellationen", wie sie in der neuen kulturanthropologisch orientierten (und Geschichte emphatisch als Erinnerungskultur verstehenden) Geschichtswissenschaft betrieben wird (HÖLSCHER 1995, 158; STRATH 2000; ANDREIS et al. 2000). Die Thematisierung der Vergesellschaftung des Gedächtnisses und die damit verbundenen Hinweise darauf, daß das vergesellschaftete Gedächtnis rückwirkend die Erlebnisgeschichte überformen kann, hat vielerorts die Tendenz gestärkt, die Erklärung geschichtlicher Sachverhalte als ein wesentlicher Zweck der historischen Reflexion über das Vergangene zu diskreditieren, weil 'démystification' nichts anderes als 'remystification' bedeuten könne (STRÂTH 2000, 19). Wohin die erinnernde Fixierung auf eine Katastrophenerfahrung im kollektiven Leben führen kann, die in ihrer Einmaligkeit über jede historische Relativierung erhaben erscheint, hat man im ausgehenden 20. Jahrhundert auf dem Balkan beobachten können. Die großserbische Nationalidee, die "vom Blick auf die Vergangenheit her konturiert" ist, nährt sich offensichtlich vom Rekurs auf das Erlebnis der Niederlage auf dem Amselfed (Kosovo), die "im serbischen Geschichtsbewußt* Die wesentlich überarbeitete Fassung des Beitrags: "Die Armenische Frage und der Völkermord an den Armeniern im Osmanischen Reich: Betroffenheit im Reflex nationalistischer Geschichtsschreibung", vorgetragen auf einem internationalen Symposium in der Evangelischen Akademie Arnoldshain im Mai 1994 und erstmals veröffentlicht, zusammen mit anderen Beiträgen zu jenem Sympos i u m , in ADANIR ( 1 9 9 6 ) . 1

Über die postmodernistische Infragestellung der Geschichte siehe vor allem den Aufsatz von ANKERSMIT ( 1 9 8 9 ) und die E n t g e g n u n g v o n 172.

ZAGORIN ( 1 9 9 0 ) . V g l . a u c h NIETHAMMER, 1 9 8 9 , 1 6 3 -

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sein den historischen Rubikon" symbolisiert (HÖPKEN 1993, 58 ff.).2 So gingen serbische Tschetniks im letzten Krieg gegen die muslimischen Slawen in BosnienHercegovina im Bewußtsein derer vor, die die Niederlage des Jahres 1389 zu rächen hatten. Die hier sich höchst geschichtswirksam erweisende 'KosovoLegende' mit dem Kult des heiligen Serbenfürsten Lasar als ihrem Kern ist aber eine Art 'invented tradition'; die Lobgesänge zu Ehren Lasars, der auf dem Schlachtfeld von Kosovo gefallen war, enthalten "ein abstrahiertes und schematisiertes (durch poetische Bilder und Topoi geformtes) Bild des Heiligen, das jedoch nicht rudimentäre, sondern bewußt umgeformte historische Information darstellt" 3 (KÄMPFER 1972, 85). Verfremdungsmechanismen ähnlicher Art liegen übrigens auch der Mythisierung Kraljevic Markos zugrunde, auf den sich die heutigen Tschetniks berufen. Die Tatsache, daß der historische Kraljevic Marko als osmanischer Vasall im Kampf gegen seine christlichen 'Brüder' den Tod fand, ist in der Überlieferung aus dem Blick geraten; jedenfalls wird er in südslawischen Volksliedern als der archetypische Held des Kampfes gegen die Türken gefeiert.4 Die erwähnten Legenden und Mythisierungen mögen zwar in kulturanthropologischer Sicht höchst interessant sein. Ihre erwiesene 'Geschichtsmächtigkeit' in der Gegenwart, ja bewußte Instrumentalisierung, sind aber politisch und moralisch eine heikle Angelegenheit (vgl. I G G E R S 2000). Deshalb sollte Geschichtswissenschaft, obgleich sie von diskursanalytisch orientierter Forschung viel zu lernen hat, Semiotik, Kulturanthropologie und verwandten Disziplinen dann nicht mehr folgen, wenn diese die Möglichkeit des Realen außerhalb des Textzusammenhangs grundsätzlich verneinen, und zwar wohlwissend, daß die Bedeutung des Textes selbst ohne die Kenntnis seines gesellschaftlich-politischen Kontextes kaum zu erschließen ist ( S T O N E 1992).5 Die Leugnung des Prozeßcharakters der Geschichte im Namen postmoderner Metaphorik impliziert schließlich den Verzicht auf einen "gedeuteten Gesamtzusammenhang der vergangenen Ereignisse", was letztlich zur "Balkanisierung historischer Erkenntnis führt ( H Ö L S C H E R 1995, 159; M E S T R O V I C 1994, passim). Was meint die 'Armenische Frage'? Diese Studie zu historiographischen Kontroversen über die Armenische Frage und den Völkermord an den osmanischen Armeniern im Ersten Weltkrieg sollte vor 2

Zur Rolle der Kosovo-Legende in der serbischen Geschichte siehe ferner die Beiträge in: SAMARD2IC, 1 9 8 9 , u n d VUCINICH u n d EMMERT, 1 9 9 1 . V g l . a u ß e r d e m SUNDHAUSSEN, 1 9 9 4 , u n d O l g a

ZIROJEVIC, Kosovo u istorijskom pamcenju (mit, legende, cinjenice), in: Republika

1 (Beograd,

1 5 . 0 3 . 1 9 9 5 ) , S. 9 - 2 4 . 3 4 5

Zur Problematik der 'erfundenen Tradition' siehe die Beiträge in: HOBSBAWM und RANGER (1983). Für entsprechende Literaturhinweise siehe ADANIR (1982), 53 ff. STONE zitiert APPLEBY, 1989. Vgl. ferner SPIEGEL, 1990, sowie die Debatten darüber in: Past and Present, Nos. 131 ff. Die Einsicht, daß auch die Geschichte des türkisch-armenischen Verhältnisses dem Kausalnexus von Ursache und Wirkung untergeordnet bleibt und ohne Berücksichtigung des historischen Kontextes nicht zu verstehen ist, bildete den Ausgangspunkt eines Workshops am 7.-10. März 2002 in Ann Arbor, Michigan, über 'Contextualizing the Armenian Experience in the Ottoman Empire'.

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dem skizzierten Hintergrund gesehen werden. Der Gegenstand dieser Kontroversen läßt sich wie folgt zusammenfassen: Das Vielvölkerreich der Osmanen befand sich im 19. Jahrhundert in einer tiefgreifenden Transformation seiner wirtschaftlichen, gesellschaftlichen und politischen Strukturen. Hinsichtlich der Gestaltung nationalpolitischer Verhältnisse können wir den Wandel zweckmäßigerweise als eine Entwicklung von dem Personalprinzip des Rechts zum Territorialprinzip hin identifizieren. Gemeint ist damit der Gegensatz zwischen einer vormodernen, religionsgemeinschaftlich-kulturell geprägten Identität einerseits, die teilweise bis zur Auflösung des Reiches gewahrt blieb, und einer neuen, staatsbürgerlich-territorial bestimmten Identität andererseits. Die letztere setzte sich im Zuge der nationalstaatlichen Entwicklung durch, und zwar nicht nur infolge der Emanzipationsbestrebungen der Reichsvölker, sondern auch infolge der Säkularisierungspolitik der imperialen Staatseliten. Denn der Osmanismus, die Ideologie der osmanischen Modernisierung, war ein 'staatsnationales' Konzept im gegenwärtigen Sinn des Wortes (ADANIR 1989a; ADANIR 2002a). Im Spannungsfeld dieser gegensätzlichen Tendenzen in bezug auf die Frage der Säkularisierung und Territorialisierung kam es wiederholt zu gewaltsamen Auseinandersetzungen, sowohl in Form staatlicher Disziplinierungs- und Unterdrückungsmaßnahmen gegen die politische Peripherie der Gesellschaft als auch in Form von Widerstand, Terrorhandlungen, ja offenem Aufstand von Randgruppen gegen das Zentrum (KENT 1984; ADANIR 1997).6 Es gab auch Interventionen europäischer Großmächte, die bereits bei der Entstehung der ersten Nationalstaaten auf dem Balkan eine erstrangige Rolle gespielt hatten und zu denen die Eliten weiterer Völker um Unterstützung für ihre nationale Emanzipation hinaufblickten. Sogar der 'kranke Mann am Bosporus' selbst schuldete diesen Mächten in gewissem Sinn Dank dafür, daß deren Uneinigkeit hinsichtlich der Regelung der osmanischen Nachfolge mittelbar dem Fortbestand des Imperiums zugute kam. Die Armenische Frage bildete also — ähnlich der bulgarischen, der makedonischen, der albanischen oder der arabischen — einen diplomatiegeschichtlichen Komplex der umfassenderen 'Orientalischen Frage', die die Neuordnung des Nahen Ostens im Zuge der schleichenden Auflösung des Osmanischen Reiches meint.7 Die Armenische Frage hat jedoch insofern besondere Brisanz, als in einem Großteil des historischen Armenien heute kaum Armenier zu finden sind, während die Albaner noch überwiegend in Albanien, die Bulgaren in Bulgarien, die Makedonier in Makedonien oder die Araber in den verschiedenen arabischen Staaten leben. Das sog. Türkisch-Armenien wurde, um einen modernen Euphemismus zu benutzen, 'ethnisch gesäubert': Im Frühjahr 1915, als die osmanische KaukasusFront zusammengebrochen war und an den Meerengen die Landung der EntenteTruppen kurz bevorstand, faßte die Regierung der jungtürkischen Partei Einheit und Fortschritt den fatalen Beschluß, die armenische Bevölkerung Anatoliens in südlichere Provinzen des Reiches zu deportieren. Angesichts der Tatsache, daß 6

Die Begriffe 'Zentrum' und 'Peripherie' sind hier im politischen Sinne verwendet. Siehe MARDIN ( 1 9 7 3 ) ; HEPER ( 1 9 8 0 ) .

7

Zur Entstehung der Armenischen Frage im Rahmen der 'Orientalischen Frage' nach 1878 siehe ANDERSON ( 1 9 6 6 ) , 2 2 0 - 2 6 0 .

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diese Maßnahme in einer Kriegszeit angeordnet wurde und zudem in Regionen, die infrastrukturell unterentwickelt und von antagonistischen, z.T. unter elendsten Verhältnissen lebenden Volksgruppen bewohnt waren, ist anzunehmen, daß die Verantwortlichen den Tod eines Großteils der Deportierten, wenn nicht gar geplant, so doch in Kauf genommen hatten. Auf jeden Fall handelte es sich hierbei um ein schweres Kriegsverbrechen, wofür unser gegenwärtiger Diskurs die Bezeichnung 'Völkermord' bereithält (ADANIR 2001a). Die Geschichtsschreibung ist bemüht, über dieses Ereignis unter Berücksichtigung seines historischen Kontextes zu urteilen. Bezogen unmittelbar auf die Zeit der Deportationen findet sich beispielsweise bei Ronald Grigor S U N Y , einem U S amerikanischen Akademiker armenischer Abstammung, folgende Einschätzung: "It was at this juncture, as the Russians penetrated into Turkish Armenia, as the Russian foreign minister Sazanov told the State Duma that his government planned 'the complete liberation of Armenia from the Turkish yoke', that the Young Turk triumvirate in Istanbul planned the deportation and extermination of the Armenians. The Turkish actions against the Armenians were taken in desperation and panic. Not only were the Russians advancing in the East and the British and French navies threatening the capital, but the Armenians in Van had risen in revolt" (SUNY 1983, 18). Diese Interpretation des Geschehenen, die die Annahme eines schon lange gehegten Vernichtungsplans in Abrede stellt und vom Autor in letzter Zeit auch wiederholt bekräftigt worden ist (SUNY 1998; SUNY 2001; SUNY 2002),8 ist aber für viele unakzeptabel. Sie erscheint den ungeheuren Dimensionen der menschlichen Tragödie nicht gerecht. Geradezu abwegig klingt es auch, daß der Autor den jungtürkischen Entschluß zu 'Deportation' und 'Extermination' der Armenier im Frühjahr 1915 auf gleicher Ebene mit russischen Expansionsplänen, mit englisch-französischer Landung an den Dardanellen und mit einem armenischen Aufstand in Van betrachtet. Versucht er denn womöglich, das Ungeheuerliche zu relativieren und die Verantwortlichen des Völkermords zu entschuldigen? Davon kann freilich keine Rede sein. SUNY bezieht die Verhaftung einer Gruppe armenischer Intellektueller und Politiker in Istanbul am 24. April 1915 nicht direkt auf den Aufstand von Van, der einige Tage vorher ausgebrochen war. Er betrachtet die Entwicklung in einer viel breiteren Perspektive. So liefert er zunächst eine Analyse der Herausbildung einer armenischen Intelligentsia und anschließend der Formierung einer selbstbewußten und kohärenten armenischen Nationalität innerhalb der Vielvölkerreiche der Romanovs und der Osmanen im Laufe des 19. Jahrhunderts. Dann stellt er fest, daß die osmanischen Armenier hinsichtlich der nationalen Entwicklung ihren türkischen Oberherren wesentlich voraus waren (SUNY 1983, 8). Rußland erschien ihnen dabei als ihr künftiger Befreier, während sie gegenüber den Türken bitter hatred if not racial contempt empfanden. Die Türken waren eben kein europäisches, sondern ein "asiatisches, ein minderwertiges und unkultiviertes Volk" (SUNY 1983, 11).

8

Eine ähnliche Position vertritt BLOXHAM (2002), besonders 103-05.

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Ferner weist SUNY auf die bemerkenswerte Tatsache hin, daß der türkische Nationalismus, der als Reaktion auf die Nationalismen der christlichen Reichsvölker erst spät entstanden sei, ähnlich wie der armenische Nationalismus sehr stark von Persönlichkeiten beeinflußt wurde, die in Rußland lebten oder dort ausgebildet worden waren. So betont er die Rolle rußlandtürkischer, aus der Krim, dem Wolgagebiet oder Aserbaidschan stammender Intellektueller in der Geschichte des türkischen Nationalismus (SUNY 1983, 13).9 Im Unterschied zu liberal gesinnten osmanischen Reformern sei es diesen Nationalisten um die Einheitlichkeit der politischen Loyalität und des staatlichen Territoriums gegangen; jedwede Regionalisierung war ihnen als potentieller Separatismus suspekt. Unter diesen Bedingungen war Konflikt nach Auffassung SUNYs gleichsam vorprogrammiert: "Once Turkish nationalism became an effective political movement, a clash between it and the newly politicized Armenians was increasingly likely, even inevitable" (SUNY 1983, 14). Kurzum: der Sozialwissenschaftler SUNY sieht die Deportation und Massaker der Armenier im Ersten Weltkrieg als Denouement eines prozessualen Handlungszusammenhangs. Die Abgekoppelung von ihrer Vorgeschichte würde die Katastrophe der Jahre 1915-16 auf die sprichwörtliche 'Stunde Null', mithin auf Mythos reduzieren. Doch mit seiner Absicht, die Ereignisse zu historisieren, stößt er bei vielen, vor allem armenischen Autoren auf Ablehnung (DADRIAN 1998). Der 'Völkermord' an den Armeniern und der 'Holocaust' Was die Historiker in der Türkei betrifft, lehnen sie es fast geschlossen ab, das Wort 'Völkermord' im Zusammenhang mit den Vorgängen der Jahre 1915-16 zu verwenden. Dies hängt auch damit zusammen, daß sie 'Völkermord' zu einem politischen Kampfbegriff entwertet sehen (BERKTAY 2002; TUN£AY 2003). Die Convention on the prevention and the punishment ofthe crime of genocide aus dem Jahre 1948 definiert Genozid rechtsverbindlich als eine verbrecherische Handlung, die es zum Ziel hat, eine nationale, ethnische, rassische oder religiöse Gruppe 'als solche' zu vernichten.10 Das heißt, es muß klar nachweisbar sein, daß der Handelnde schon vor der Tat die Absicht gehabt hat, die Opfergruppe, nur weil es eben diese Gruppe war, auszurotten. Wer hat aber diesen Nachweis im Falle der armenisch-türkischen Beziehungen während des Ersten Weltkrieges zu erbringen? Offenkundig die historische Forschung: Schon die Tatsache, daß das Europäische Parlament seine Genozid-Resolution von 1987 damit begründet hat, der Völkermord von 1915 sei 'historisch erwiesen', unterstreicht die Bedeutung, welche der historischen Forschung in diesem Rahmen beigemessen wird.11 Die Türkei gehört zu den Ländern, die die Genozid-Konvention von 1948 ratifiziert haben, und türkische Historiker wollen den Begriff 'Völkermord' im Sinne dieses UNO-Dokumentes emphatisch als eine juristische Kategorie verstanden wissen. Ihrer Mei9 10

Zu diesem Komplex siehe ferner GEORGEON (1980); LAZZEWNI (1982/1983); KIRIMLI (1996). Der Text dieser UNO-Konvention in: TOMUSCHAT (1992), 209-212. Vgl. auch KUPER (1986), 44, und SCHMUHL (2005).

11

Siehe "Im Wortlaut: Armenien-Resolution", in: Frankfurter Rundschau vom 30. Juni 1987.

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nung nach waren die Vertreibungen und Massaker des Jahres 1915 Folgen von Maßnahmen, die in einer Notsituation im Krieg ergriffen wurden — das Vorhandensein des Vorsatzes als eine maßgebliche Komponente des Sachverhalts Genozid wird vehement bestritten (AK§iN 1986).12 Neben dieser formalrechtlichen Erklärung für die 'Unbeweglichkeit' der türkischen Position gilt es einige historische Umstände zu berücksichtigen. So verdient die Frage nach der Kontinuität von der Herrschaft des jungtürkischen Komitees für Einheit und Fortschritt der Kriegsjahre zum kemalistischen Einparteiensystem in der frühen Republik Türkei größere Beachtung (ZÜRCHER 1984).13 In diesen Zusammenhang gehört auch, daß ein osmanisches Militärtribunal, das in den Jahren 1919-21 die Verbrechen des jungtürkischen Regimes während des Krieges untersuchte, zugleich — vornehmlich aus politischen Gründen — auch Anklage gegen die Führer des nationalen Widerstandes in Ankara erhob (HÖSS 1991; ÖADRIAN 1991a; ÖADRIAN 1991b; AK?AM 1995; AK^AM 1996; KOCAHAOÖLU 1998). Nach dem Sieg der Nationalisten, die ihrerseits der Regierung des Sultans in Istanbul Verrat vorwarfen, konnte in Ankara kaum jemand mehr an der Klärung von Verbrechen während des Krieges interessiert sein. Die Geschichtsschreibung in der neuen Republik blieb bis in die zweite Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts hinein primär mit der türkischen Staats- und Nationsbildung im Sinne des Kemalismus beschäftigt. Besonders in den 1930er Jahren hatten die Historiker die Aufgabe, die 'Grundlinien der türkischen Geschichte' herauszuarbeiten (Türk tarihinin ana hatlari, 1930). Es ging um die Ausbildung eines Geschichtsbewußtseins um die ruhmvolle Vergangenheit der "großen türkischen Nation, die jahrhundertelang ungerecht verleumdet und deren großer Beitrag zur Gründung der frühesten Zivilisationen geleugnet" worden sei (£OKER 1983, 5). Die 1931 gegründete Gesellschaft zum Studium der türkischen Geschichte, die 1932 den ersten türkischen Historikerkongreß organisierte, sah ihren Auftrag hauptsächlich in der Abgrenzung von der jüngsten osmanischen Vergangenheit. Dementsprechend wurde entweder auf die vorislamische Periode der türkischen Geschichte oder nur auf die jüngste, säkularisierte Republikzeit fokussiert. Es blieb kaum Raum für eine wissenschaftliche Beschäftigung mit der gemeinsamen türkisch-armenischen Geschichte (vgl. ADANIR 1988; BERKTAY 1991; BEHAR 1992, 2002). Dies erregt Widerspruch besonders bei Autoren armenischer Abstammung in Europa und den USA, die die türkische Leugnung des Genozidtatbestandes geradezu als Provokation auffassen. So klagt Richard G. Hovannisian, Historiker in der Türkei appellierten erfolgreich an das westliche Gefühl von 'fair play', darauf insistierend, daß auch die 'andere Seite' einer völlig verdrehten Geschichte zu berücksichtigen sei. Und es sei frustrierend zu beobachten, daß man sich im Westen hier und da zu fragen beginne, ob denn vielleicht nicht auch in den Behauptungen

12

Übrigens äußerte sich im Jahre 1990 die Mehrheit der US-Senatoren ausdrücklich unter Verweis auf den streng juristischen Charakter des Begriffs Genozid gegen die Anerkennung des 24. Aprils als den nationalen Tag des Armenischen Genozids. Siehe GUROIAN (1992), besonders 333 ff. 13 In einer umfangreichen Studie, deren Ergebnisse bisher nur in unveröffentlichten Tagungsbeiträgen vorliegen, will auch Fatma Müge GÖCEK diesen Kontinuitätszusammenhang gebührend herausstellen. Siehe G ö g E K (2002) and GÖCEK (2003).

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der Türken ein Körnchen Wahrheit liege (HOVANNISIAN 1986a, 113; SMITH 1992, 5 ff.). Armenische Historiker selbst haben jedoch die Geschichte der armenischen Katastrophe keineswegs von Anfang an als Genozid bezeichnet. Am Ende des Ersten Weltkrieges, als die Gründung eines großen armenischen Staates mit Hilfe der siegreichen Entente als eine beschlossene Sache erschien, ging es vielmehr darum, eine historisch-moralische Legitimation für die territorialen Ansprüche dieses Staates zu liefern, wobei man gern auch den armenischen militärischen Beitrag zum Sieg der Westmächte herausstellte.14 Nachdem der Erfolg der türkischen Nationalbewegung 1921-22 das Konzept einer großarmenischen (ebenso wie einer panhellenischen) Staatsgründung in Anatolien untergraben hatte, machten sich jedoch Gefühle der Erbitterung und Enttäuschung breit, und zwar nicht nur über die siegreichen Kemalisten, sondern auch über die Wortbrüchigkeit der Westmächte, die die Armenier wieder einmal fallengelassen hatten (SAVADJIAN 1922; OECONOMOS 1923; BOGIGIAN 1925; TURABIAN 1929). Daneben hat es seit Ende des Ersten Weltkrieges eine Vielzahl memoirenartiger Publikationen gegeben, die die Ereignisse aus der Sicht der unmittelbar Betroffenen schildern und somit eine Literaturgattung bilden, die nicht nur zur Verinnerlichung der Katastrophe und somit zur Herausbildung und Reproduktion einer kollektiven Identität in der Diaspora beiträgt, sondern auch als Basis für eine mentalitätsgeschichtliche Erforschung der regionalen Milieus, in welchen sich Täter wie Opfer bewegten, dienen könnte (CAPTANIAN 1919; BARONIGIAN 1921; LEHMANN-HAUPT 1921; EBY 1922; CARAMAN 1939; BEDOUKIAN 1978; HAGOPIAN-TAFT 1981; SHIPLEY 1983; DAVIDSON 1985; HIGHGAS 1985; MINASSIAN 1986; NAKASHIAN-KETCHIAN 1988; MARTIN 1989; JAFARIAN 1989; JAFFERIAN 1993; RLGGS 1997;

APRAHAMIAN 1998).15 Erst in den späten 1940er Jahren, als man begann, den Völkermord an den europäischen Juden während des Zweiten Weltkrieges als solchen wahrzunehmen, tauchte der Gedanke auf, den Völkermordbegriff auch auf die Massaker an Armeniern im Ersten Weltkrieg anzuwenden. Es war kaum Zufall, daß die Armenian National Council of America im Jahre 1948, als die UNO die Konvention zur Verhinderung des Verbrechens von Genozid verabschiedete, eine Schrift herausbrachte, die den Ursprung des Genozids in den Massakern an Armeniern im Osmanischen Reich lokalisierte (GUTTMANN 1948).16 In der Atmosphäre des Kalten Krieges in den 1950er Jahren fand zwar dieser Vorstoß — wohl aus Gründen der außenpolitischen Opportunität — zunächst kaum Widerhall. Die Lage sollte sich jedoch beginnend mit den 1960er Jahren wesentlich ändern. Armenische Historiker und politische Publizisten bemühten sich nun immer stärker, die bis dahin als 'Greuel', 'Deportation' oder 'Massaker' angesprochenen 14

Charakteristisch sind für diese Phase Titel wie D'ANY (1919); COCHIN et al. (1920); TEKÖAN (1919); POIDEBARD ( 1 9 2 0 ) ; KORGANOFF ( 1 9 2 7 ) .

15

Für eine Erörterung der Bedeutung dieser Literaturgattung siehe SHIRINIAN (1998); PEROOMIAN (1988-1989); PEROOMIAN (1993). Zum relevanten Komplex der 'oral history' in diesem Kontext vgl. MILLER und MILLER (1993). 'Dorfmonographien' verdienen als eine besondere Kategorie der

16

Auch in einer neueren Darstellung zum 'Jahrhundert des Genozids' wird dem armenischen Fall eine stereotypische Bedeutung zugeschrieben. Siehe WEITZ (2003), 1-7.

Erinnerungsliteratur ebenfalls Erwähnung: KALFAIAN (1982); DZERON (1984).

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Ereignisse als den 'ersten Genozid des Jahrhunderts' ins Gedächtnis einer mittlerweile sensibel reagierenden Weltöffentlichkeit einzuprägen (M£c£RIAN 1965; NERSISIJAN 1966; NAZER 1968). Die 1970er Jahre sahen dann eine noch größere Flut von historisch-publizistischen wie -wissenschaftlichen Veröffentlichungen zum Thema Genozid.17 Auffallend in diesen Produktionen künstlerischer, dichterischer oder historiographischer Art ist der Versuch, einen direkten Zusammenhang oder zumindest eine Parallelität zwischen der Tragödie des armenischen Volkes im Ersten und der Vernichtung des europäischen Judentums im Zweiten Weltkrieg herzustellen. Der Titel des Buches von Jean-Marie C A R Z O U über die Ereignisse von 1915, das 1975 in Paris erschien, deutete schon die neue Richtung an: "Ein beispielhafter Genozid" ( C A R Z O U 1975). Bald folgten Arbeiten, in denen der Genozid an den Armeniern (1915) und die Vernichtung der Juden im Zweiten Weltkrieg unmittelbar miteinander verglichen wurden, ja einige Autoren sind sogar der Meinung, die Armenische Tragödie hätte das Muster für das Verhängnis des europäischen Judentums unter dem Dritten Reich geliefert ( F E I N 1978; D A D R I A N 1988; M E L S O N 1989). Richard G. H O V A N N I S I A N , der Doyen armeno-amerikanischer Historiker, betitelte ein bibliographisches Werk über die armenischen Deportationen und Massaker schon 1978 als der "Armenische Holocaust" ( H O V A N N I S I A N 1978). Als besonders engagierter Verfechter der These eines als Holocaust verstandenen Genozids an den Armeniern gilt Vahakn N. D A D R I A N . In seinen zahlreichen Schriften hat er sich mit verschiedenen Aspekten dieses Themas eingehend befaßt. Beachtung verdienen seine Studien über die konvergierenden Aspekte der armenischen und jüdischen Fälle des Genozids ( D A D R I A N 1975; 1976). Gelegentlich vertritt D A D R I A N sogar die Meinung, daß das Konzept von 'Holocaust' zutreffender auf das Schicksal der Armenier anzuwenden sei als auf das der Juden (DADRIAN 1990). In seiner Untersuchung zur Rolle türkischer Ärzte beim Völkermord des Jahres 1915 schlußfolgert er, daß das Schicksal der Armenier als Präzedenzfall für das Schicksal der Juden gedient habe ( D A D R I A N 1986). (In seinen neueren Publikationen betont D A D R I A N übrigens zunehmend eine Mitschuld Deutschlands für den Genozid an den Armeniern im Ersten Weltkrieg.) ( D A D R I A N 1995, 1996). Der Autor leitet seine Genozid-These einerseits von der Annahme ab, daß der osmanische Staat eine islamische Theokratie gewesen sei und die Muslime grundsätzlich unfähig wären, mit Nichtmuslimen als gleichberechtigte Bürger im Rahmen eines gemeinsamen Staatsgebildes zu existieren. Die Geschichte der ethnischen Konflikte und Massaker auf dem Balkan unter osmanischer Herrschaft bestätige die Richtigkeit dieser These. Was den Armeniern 1915 widerfuhr, wäre demnach schon zur Regierungszeit Abdulhamids II. voraussehbar gewesen.18 17

Erwähnung verdienen vor allem BOYAJIAN (1972) und das Gemeinschaftswerk von CHALIAND und TERNON ( 1 9 8 0 ) .

18

In einer neueren Studie über die Krise des Osmanischen Reiches im 19. Jahrhundert wird mit Hilfe von sozialpsychologischen Methoden konstatiert, "that poütical, societal, and military disintegration provoked a collective state of mind and individual psychological orientations that engendered violent behaviour". Die Leugnung des armenischen Völkermords habe mit der Unfähigkeit zu tun, die psychologischen Folgen von Krieg im Jahrhundert vor der endgültigen Zusammenbruch des Osmanischen Reiches zu begreifen (REID, 2000,457).

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Gewalt als ein wesentlicher Bestandteil der türkisch-islamischen Kultur bringe übrigens auch eine Kultur der Leugnung mit sich, wie es die Haltung der republikanischen Türkei seit 1923 zur Genüge bezeugt habe (DADRIAN 1995, 3-20, 113-176; DADRIAN 1999, 5-28). Andererseits möchte aber DADRIAN — schon aus Gründen der Analogie zur Vorsätzlichkeit nationalsozialistischer Judenverfolgung — auf die entscheidende Rolle der jungtürkischen Clique um Talät, Enver und Cemal als Hauptakteure des Genozids nicht verzichten (DADRIAN 1993; DADRIAN 1999, 9 3 - 1 0 3 ) . 1 9

Manche Bemühungen, die tragischen Ereignisse der Jahre 1915-16 in enger Anknüpfung an dem jüdischen Holocaust in die öffentliche Erinnerung zu rufen, dienen nicht zuletzt politischen Zielen. Teile der armenischen Diaspora sind entschlossen, den türkischen Staat zu zwingen, die Nachkommen der Überlebenden zumindest moralisch und materiell zu entschädigen.20 Als Mittel zur Erzeugung von politischem Druck in diesem Zusammenhang sind publizistische Erfolge, wie der Bestseller von Jacques DEROGY über die Ermordung jungtürkischer Politiker, außerordentlich willkommen (DEROGY 1990). Noch wertvoller ist eine dichterische Verarbeitung einzelner Episoden aus der Geschichte des Völkermords, wofür Franz WERFELs Roman Die vierzig Tage des Musa Dagh als ein besonders gelungenes Beispiel gilt (WERFEL 1933).21 Schon in den 1930er Jahren gab es auch Versuche, das symbolträchtige Thema dieses Buches — die fiktive Dauer des Widerstands (40 Tage) einer armenischen Gruppe in einem Berg am Golf von Alexandrette gegen die belagernden Türken im September 1915 evoziert biblische Parallelitäten - filmisch zu verwerten (MlNASIAN 1985-1986).22 Später, nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg, wurden künstlerisch hervorragende Filme produziert, die den türkischen Genozid an den Armeniern breiten Bevölkerungsschichten in Europa und Amerika praktisch ins Unterbewußtsein einprägten.23 Jungen armenischen Schriftstellern, die unter schwierigen Bedingungen der Diaspora ihre Identitätsprobleme zu bewältigen suchen, gelingt es zuweilen meisterhaft, das von ihren Eltern und Großeltern Gehörte zu sinnstiftenden künstlerischen Darstellungen zu verarbeiten, die, wie Peter BALAKIANs Black Dog ofFate, zu neuen Bestsellern werden, die die zeitweilig nachlassende Aufmerksamkeit für das Schicksal der osmanischen Armenier wieder beleben können (BALAKIAN 2000).24 Die Deutung der Massaker an den Armeniern als ein dem jüdischen Holocaust vergleichbarer Genozid bedeutet sicherlich eine Wende in der neueren Geschichtsschreibung und Publizistik zum Thema. Es liegt auf der Hand, daß man ohne den 19

20

21

Für kritische Würdigungen des Werkes von DADRIAN siehe u.a. SUNY (2002), 8 4 - 8 6 , und KAISER (2001c). Es wird aber zuweilen auch von der Anerkennung des Armenischen Genozids "as a vehicle for the return of historic Armenian lands to their rightful owners" geredet. Siehe PAYASLIAN (2001); ferner TAVITIAN (2001); GHOUGASSIAN (2001); Simon PAYASLIAN (2001b). Über die Bedeutung dieses Werkes, "the most memorable novel about the genocide..., now long a classic", siehe HAMALIAN ( 1 9 8 6 ) , 1 6 1 . Über Werfels Motivation für diesen Roman siehe OHANDJANIAN ( 1 9 8 9 ) , 2 2 2 - 2 3 2 .

22 23 24

Zum Symbolcharakter der Verfremdungen in Werfeis Roman bald auch SCHMUHL (2005). Ein Überblick in LA^INER und KANTARCI (2002). Zur Problematik der Identität in der Diaspora siehe DABAG ( 1 9 9 6 ) .

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Willen zum Vergleich und ohne Zuhilfenahme verschiedener Methoden der Komparatie, wie sie in den angewandten Sozialwissenschaften entwickelt worden sind, kaum auf diese Deutung gekommen wäre.25 Wenn man die prinzipielle Vergleichbarkeit des am eigenen Volk Geschehenen akzeptiert, so folgt als nächster Schritt die Ermittlung der Ebenen eines solchen Vergleichs. Die anthropologische Kategorie 'Gewalt' erweist sich dabei als den geeigneten Boden. Gewaltanwendung bildet die Basis jedweden Mordens und ist auch unter totaler Abstraktion von ihrer geographisch-historischen Umwelt der Anschauung universell zugänglich. Auf diesem Feld läßt sich am leichtesten Analogien zwischen unterschiedlichen Fällen von Genozid herstellen (DADRIAN 1971, 1974). Ist aber eine Analogie einmal konstatiert, entfaltet sie gleichsam eine Eigendynamik; so scheint man im konkreten Fall des Vergleichs des armenischen Völkermords mit dem jüdischen Holocaust einem gewissen Zugzwang ausgesetzt, unter möglichst vielen Aspekten der armenischen Volksgeschichte Parallelitäten zur jüdischen Erfahrung nachweisen zu müssen. Interkommunale Konflikte, wie sie in verschiedenen Regionen Südosteuropas und des Nahen Ostens noch heute vorkommen, dienen nunmehr als Beleg dafür, daß das Schicksal der christlichen Armenier unter islamischer Herrschaft dem Los der Juden unter antisemitischer Verfolgung im christlichen Europa analog gewesen sei. Ihr inferiorer rarya-Status mit vielen Ungleichheiten im sozialen, wirtschaftlichen und rechtlichen Bereich habe die Armenier zum Opfer eines kollektiven Mords gleichsam prädestiniert. Das osmanische millet-System, das in der Forschung gewöhnlich als ein Faktor genannt wird, der die ethnisch-kulturelle Identität der Völker zu bewahren half, erscheint hier in negativem Licht: Dadurch sei "the ethnic and cultural distinctiveness of the Armenians" als eine untergeordnete Gruppe noch verstärkt worden (KUPER 1986, 56). In bezug auf die Reformperiode Tanzimat im 19. Jahrhundert, als das Prinzip der Gleichheit ohne Rücksicht auf ethnische oder religiöse Zugehörigkeit eingeführt wurde, beklagt man wiederum die Entstehung eines alle Besonderheiten nivellierenden, quasi homogenen Gesellschaftssystems. Bei der Reform sei es darum gegangen, "to build a society founded upon uniformity, where all social differences must be effaced before the all-encompassing ideal society which is regulated and measured in every detail. There was already no place for Armenians in this Ottoman world" (REID 1984, 27). Die Täter selbst, d.h. hier vor allem die Mitglieder des jungtürkischen Komitees Einheit und Fortschritt, werden folgerichtig mit den Nationalsozialisten verglichen. So sollen auch sie auf einer geheimen Versammlung — gleichsam ihrer 'WannseeKonferenz' — die 'Endlösung' beschlossen haben (KAZARIAN 1965; DADRIAN 1993). Die Rolle der SS soll hier von einer 'Sonderorganisation' (Te§kilät-i Mahsusa) übernommen worden sein (DADRIAN 1993). In einer gewissen Hygienemaßnahme osmanischer Ärzte während des Krieges, die im Gebiet von Trabzon zum Sterben von Kindern führte, sieht man dann "a kind ofprototype for the World War II Nazi gas Chamber" (DADRIAN 1986, 182). Was den letztlich alles

25

"The concept holocaust deserves ... to be reinterpreted and redefined in a comparative context" (DADRIAN 1 9 8 8 , 1 6 5 ) .

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entscheidenden Befehl zur geplanten Völkermord betrifft, so glauben manche Autoren, in den von Aram Andonian 1920 publizierten, vermeintlich offiziellen Dokumenten der osmanischen Regierung den gesuchten Beleg gefunden zu haben ( A N A D O N I A N 1920; D A D R I A N 1986). So soll der damalige Innenminister Talät am 16. September 1915 an die Behörden von Aleppo folgendes befohlen haben: "Es wurde ihnen zunächst mitgeteilt, daß die Regierung, durch ein Gesetz beschlossen hatte, alle in der Türkei lebenden Armenier vollständig zu vernichten ... Es muß ihrer Existenz ein Ende gemacht werden, wie verbrecherisch auch immer die Maßnahmen sein mögen, und es darf keine Rücksicht genommen werden auf Alter oder Geschlecht, noch auf die Stimme des Gewissens" ( H O F M A N N 1979, 9; L A N G 1986, 410). Hatte der osmanische Minister tatsächlich so etwas befohlen? Hätte er überhaupt eine solch unvorsichtige Sprache nötig gehabt, um die Vernichtungsmaschinerie in Gang zu setzen? Dennoch beruhte die Holocaustthese noch in den 1980er Jahren weitgehend auf die Publikation von Aram Andonian aus dem Jahre 1920. Die türkische Forschung glaubt dagegen inzwischen bewiesen zu haben, daß die oben zitierte Weisung wie die meisten von Aram Andonian publizierten Dokumente Fälschungen sind.26 Überhaupt erscheint das Anliegen, der Politik der Jungtürken eine ähnliche Qualität wie der Judenpolitik der NSDAP beizumessen, fragwürdig. Ein engagierter Anhänger der Völkermordthese gab Ende der 1980er Jahre denn auch zu bedenken, daß dies der armenischen Sache eher schaden würde. Die fortschreitende Auflösung des Staates und der Charakter des sozialen Wandels im osmanischen Vielvölkerreich machten die Frage des armenischen Genozids zu einer wesentlich vielschichtigeren Angelegenheit.27 Die Armenische Frage und die türkische Geschichtsschreibung Die geschilderte publizistische Anstrengung war vor allem hinsichtlich einer Beeinflussung der öffentlichen Meinung erfolgreich. Die armenischen Historiker und Publizisten haben es erreicht, daß der i/5-amerikanische Senat, die UNO und die EU seit den 1980er Jahren Schritte in die Richtung einer Institutionalisierung der Erinnerung an die Opfer des armenischen Völkermordes unternommen haben: Im Herbst 1984 befürworteten Abgeordnete des t/S-Kongresses, den 24. April zum Gedenktag an das "unmenschliche Verhalten des Menschen gegenüber seinem Mit26

27

Siehe OREL und YUCA (1986); ATAÖV (1984a). Dennoch werden Dokumente aus der Sammlung Andonians, die im Prozeß anläßlich der Ermordung Talät Paschas im Jahre 1921 in Berlin von der Verteidigung als Beleg zur Entlastung des Angeklagten verwendet wurden, von einigen Historikern weiterhin als authentisch akzeptiert. Siehe die von Tessa HOFMANN besorgten Ausgabe des stenographischen Berichts über die Gerichtsverhandlungen in Berlin 1921 (1985, 129-136). So zitiert Ronald Grigor SUNY, dem die Kontroverse über die Echtheit der von Andonian publizierten Dokumente bekannt ist, lange Passagen aus jener Quelle. Siehe SUNY (1993), 111-113. "Many concerned with proving that a genocide occurred, have made their case weaker by attempting to compare the slaughter of Armenians to the Nazi Holocaust ... The disintegration of the Ottoman state and the nature of social change in the Ottoman Empire, made the genocide issue a much more complex matter" (REID 1989, 175).

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menschen" auszurufen; der IWO-Unterausschuß für den Schutz von Minderheiten erwähnte in der neuen Fassung des Paragraphen 24 vom 29. August 1985 "das Massaker durch die Osmanen 1915/16"; am 18. Juni 1987 verabschiedete das EGParlament eine Resolution, die den Völkermord an den Armeniern als Völkermord im Sinne der LW-Konvention von 1948 bezeichnet (GUST 1993, 30 ff.). Man hat sogar begonnen, gegen Historiker gerichtlich vorzugehen, die in ihren Interpretationen (nach Meinung armenischer Organisationen) die 'türkische These' unterstützen; so hat ein Pariser Gericht 1995 den international anerkannten angloamerikanischen Wissenschaftler jüdischer Abstammung Bernard Lewis verurteilt.28 Die Nationalversammlung in Paris bewilligte dann im Mai 1998 einen Gesetzesentwurf zur Anerkennung des armenischen Genozids, der im November 2000 auch vom Senat adoptiert wurde und im Januar 2001 in Kraft trat.29 Zwar war der deutsche Bundestag nicht bereit, dem französischen Beispiel folgend den armenischen Genozid ebenfalls anzuerkennen, doch wurde dieses Ereignis in den Medien vielfach als der Inbegriff aller Genozide des 20. Jahrhunderts (Rwanda, Cambodia, Nazi-Deutschland u.a.) thematisiert.30 Wie hat die türkische Seite auf diese Entwicklung reagiert? Türkische Publizisten schrieben die Wirksamkeit der armenischen 'Offensive' hauptsächlich der politischen Isolierung der Türkei infolge des Zypern-Konflikts sowie der Entspannung zwischen den Supermächten des Kalten Krieges zu. Sie witterten eine Verschwörung 'altbekannter Kräfte', die schon immer die Vernichtung der Türkei gewollt und betrieben hätten.31 Die türkische Geschichtsschreibung selbst hat traditionell ein Bild von harmonischen Beziehungen zwischen den Armeniern und Türken gezeichnet, ein Bild, das erst im letzten Viertel des 19. Jahrhunderts getrübt worden sei. Die armenische Bevölkerung habe schon in vorchristlichen Jahrhunderten und unter verschiedenen Herrschern (Perser, Römer) Verfolgung und Vertreibung erfahren. In nachchristlicher Zeit habe sich in dieser Hinsicht wenig geändert, da die Armenier nunmehr als Schismatiker in Byzanz Unterdrückungen seitens Kirche und Staat ausgesetzt waren. Jedenfalls hätten die im 11. Jahrhundert einwandernden Türken ein überall verstreutes armenisches Volk vorgefunden, das unter fremder Herrschaft lebte. Diese Bevölkerung sei der türkischen Eroberung insgesamt wohlwollend gegenübergestanden und habe vielerorts gemeinsame Sache mit den Neuankömmlingen gegen die Byzantiner gemacht. Die türkische Dynastie der Seldschuken ihrerseits habe der armenischen Kirche und Gemeinschaft eine faire Behandlung zuteil werden lassen ( T U R A N 1984, 67-68; T U R A N 1953; Y L N A N £ 1983, 67-74; M E T I N 1992, 25-31).

28

29 30 31

Für die Äußerungen von Bernard LEWIS, die den Anlaß für seine Verurteilung gegeben haben, siehe J. P . LANGELLIER und J. P . PERONCEL-HUGOZ, 'Un entretien avec Bernard Lewis', Le Monde, 16. November 1993. Vgl. auch TERNON, 1998. Für einen Überblick über diese Entwicklungen siehe PAYASLIAN (2001); LÜTEM (2001/2002). Siehe beispielsweise Kölner Stadt-Anzeiger vom 15 September 2000. Nicht zufällig war es ein türkisch-zypriotischer Schriftsteller, Salahi SONYEL, der in den 1970er Jahren mit Publikationen im angedeuteten Sinne hervortrat: Die Titel seiner Arbeiten lauteten beispielsweise Greco-Armenian conspiracy against Turkey revived (1975a), oder SONYEL (1976).

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Die Auffassung, daß die Türken nicht etwa durch die Zerstörung eines armenischen Staates in den Besitz Kleinasiens gekommen sind, daß sie diese neue Heimat keinem armenischen Fürstentum, sondern dem oströmischen Reich entrissen haben, spielt in der türkischen Wahrnehmung des Problems eine bedeutende Rolle ( U R A S 1976, 78-88). 32 Daß überhaupt ein unabhängiges 'kleinarmenisches' Fürstentum in Kilikien nach 1080 entstehen konnte, wird ausdrücklich der nachhaltigen Schwächung der byzantinischen Herrschaft durch die Türken zugeschrieben. Kleinarmenien stützte sich in der Folge auf die Kreuzfahrerstaaten, stellte sich also auf die Seite der Gegner von Byzanz und wurde schließlich nicht von den kleinasiatischen Türken, sondern im Jahre 1375 von den Mamluken von Ägypten liquidiert, während die Osmanen, die nach 1300 als die zweite, historisch bedeutende türkische Dynastie in Kleinasien auftraten, sich in Kilikien erst im 15. Jahrhunderts anstelle von Mamluken hatten etablieren können ( U R A S 1976, 78-88). Die Osmanen kommen damit als Zerstörer armenischer Staatlichkeit ebensowenig in Betracht wie ihre Vorgänger, die Seldschuken. Im Gegenteil, der Aufstieg der Osmanen wird gleichsam als Glücksfall für die Armenier dargestellt. Viele Autoren betonen, daß mit der Einrichtung eines armenischen Patriarchats von Konstantinopel im Jahre 1461 die Grundlagen für eine weitgehend autonome Entwicklung der armenischen Kirche und Kultur im Osmanischen Reich geschaffen worden seien. 33 Sicherlich gab es Krisenperioden, in denen auch die armenische Bevölkerung Opfer vielfältiger Bedrückungen wurde. Man denkt dabei etwa an die Celäli-Aufstände des frühen 17. Jahrhunderts, als ganze Landschaften entvölkert wurden ( A K D A G 1963; iNALCIK 1965; ANDREASYAN 1962-63, 1976). Auch die chronischen Konflikte zwischen seßhafter bäuerlicher Bevölkerung und viehzüchtenden nomadisierenden Stämmen werden in ihrer Bedeutung in diesem Zusammenhang durchaus erkannt, wobei das grundsätzliche Interesse des osmanischen Staates, die seßhafte Bevölkerung gegenüber den Stämmen (Kurden und Turkmenen) zu beschützen, betont wird (ORHONLU 1963; HALA£OGLU 1988). Doch die Armenier im Osmanischen Reich werden von der türkischen Geschichtsschreibung primär als eine urbane Bevölkerungsgruppe wahrgenommen, und auch hier stehen eher die kommerziellen Eliten im Mittelpunkt. So erfährt man, daß die armenischen Fernhändler von der Expansion des Reiches im 15.-17. Jahrhundert, beispielsweise von der Schließung des Schwarzen Meeres für die italienischen Handelsrepubliken, in besonderem Maße profitiert hätten (iNALCIK 1923, 129; iNALCIK 1979). Auch die gesellschaftlich-politischen Wandlungsprozesse seit dem 17. Jahrhundert, die gewöhnlich unter dem Titel 'Machtverfall' behandelt werden, hätten den nichtmuslimischen Bevölkerungsgruppen, darunter den Armeniern, eher zum Vorteil gereicht; denn der Übergang zur Steuerpacht (iltizam) bzw. der 'Steuerpacht auf Lebenszeit' (malikäne) im osmanischen Finanzwesen setzte das Engagement des Finanzkapitals voraus, das in

32

Auch popularisierende Darstellungen sind bemüht, einen Überblick über die mittelalterliche Geschichte voranzuschicken, worin eine Betonung des eigenen 'guten Gewissens' gegenüber den Armeniern selten fehlt. Siehe z.B. KARABIYK (1984), 26-33.

33

S i e h e s t e l l v e r t r e t e n d GÖYÜN? ( 1 9 8 3 ) , 4 9 - 5 0 . V g l . d a z u BARDAKJIAN ( 1 9 8 2 ) , 8 9 - 1 0 0 .

226

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beträchtlichem Maße von armenischen sarraf (Geldwechsler) kontrolliert wurde (GEN? 1975, 234; G I Z A K ? A 1996, 166). Türkische Autoren betonen übereinstimmend, daß die Reformperiode Tanzimat (1839-1876) von den osmanischen Armeniern begrüßt worden sei (Mehmed 34 H U R § I D [Pa§a] 1997, 236-37; £ A R K 1953; S O N Y E L 1987a, 15-26). Diese konnten ihre ohnehin beherrschende Position im Wirtschaftsleben von nun an weiter ausbauen. So gab es in Istanbul unter den rund 5,800 Geldwechslern im Jahre 1877 kein einziger Muslim.35 Die damals blühende Seidenindustrie von Bursa wurde hauptsächlich von Armeniern kontrolliert ( P Z A K ^ A 1980; Q U A T A E R T 1987). In Trabzon am Schwarzen Meer stellten die Armenier neben den Griechen die überwältigende Mehrheit der Geschäftsleute, und als die Banque Ottomane Imperiale Filialen in dieser Region zu eröffnen begann, waren die Angestellten fast nur ortsansässige Armenier und Griechen ( T U R G A Y 1982, 1993). In der kilikischen Ebene (viläyet Adana), in der gegen Ende des 19. Jahrhunderts eine vielversprechende Textilindustrie entstand, wurde nicht nur die Industrialisierung, sondern auch die landwirtschaftliche Erschließung unter Einsatz moderner Agrartechnik hauptsächlich von armenischen Geschäftleuten geleistet ( K L R A Y 1974; K A R A B O R A N 1977-78; K U R M U § 1987; K A R A 1975, 1986; K E Y D E R 1987, 56 ff, 67).36 Ausgehend von einem solchen Verständnis der türkisch-armenischen Beziehungen in der Geschichte wurde die türkische Reaktion auf den Genozid-Vorwurf seit der Militärintervention von 1980 gebündelter, zielgerichteter und in propagandistischer Hinsicht auch effektiver. Neben zahlreichen pamphletartigen Publikationen37 erschienen Werke, die den formalen akademischen Standards genügen.38 Ihren spektakulärsten Erfolg hat die türkische Seite jedoch mit einer Publikation erreicht, die der Frage der Echtheit der von Andonian 1920 veröffentlichten Dokumenten galt ( O R E L und Y U C A 1983). Unbefangene Beobachter mußten nun den Eindruck gewinnen, daß jene Dokumente Fälschungen waren. Beflügelt durch diesen Erfolg war man in der Türkei fortan mehr denn je geneigt, dem in der türkischen Forschung ohnehin verbreiteten 'Quellenfetischismus' zu erlegen. Man zog sich auf den Standpunkt zurück, daß die Geschichte des türkisch-armenischen Verhältnisses ohne Heranziehung osmanischer Archivalien nicht geschrieben werden könne. Alle bisherigen Behauptungen bezüglich eines armenischen Genozids seien bloß "attempts to distort historical events and conceal facts undertaken on the part of those who view the realization of their interests and expectations as lying in continuing inter-communal disagreement and dispute and in keeping alive the feelings of rancor, hate, and revenge" ( Ö K T E 1989). Um solchen Verleumdungen entgegenzutreten, hat The Historical Research Foundation of Istanbul 1989 mit der Publikation einer 15-bändigen Dokumentation zur Armenischen Frage begonnen. Die luxuriöse, tri-linguale (Osmanisch/Neutürkisch/Englisch) Edition ist eine 34 35 36 37 38

Vgl. auch Fikret ADANIR (1998), 49-68. The Levant Herald, 3 March 1877, S. 167, zitiert in STURDZA (1983), 454; ISSAWI (1982), 262. Vgl. auch KAISER (2001a). Siehe vor allem ATAÖV (1984b); ATAÖV (1985a); ATAÖV (1985b). So u.a. GÖYÜNC (1983); GÜRÜN (1983b); KügüK (1984); BEYDILLI (1988); KARACA (1993).

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beachtliche Leistung und ohne Zweifel verdienstvoll. Aber Historiker überall wissen sehr wohl, daß Akten 'geduldig' sind und daß man mit ihnen schon oft Schindluder betrieben hat. In der genannten türkischen Veröffentlichung nun verdienen vor allem die einführenden Beiträge aus der Feder 'semi-offizieller' Historiker Beachtung, denn sie dokumentieren die Einstellung der national denkenden Öffentlichkeit in der Türkei gegenüber der armenischen Frage: Das Erstaunlichste dabei ist die Auffassung, daß das Osmanische Reich sich im Jahre 1915 im Krieg mit dem armenischen Volk befunden habe: "Among the nations Turkey fought during the First World War were Armenians. And these were Armenians living in Turkey, Armenians who were Turkish Citizens... Certainly it cannot be denied that Turkey was at war with the Armenians of Turkey." (KÜR§AD 1989, 2 6 )

Die Zwangsumsiedlung der Armenier sei eine Notwendigkeit gewesen; auch die westlichen Staaten hätten in Kriegszeiten ähnliche Maßnahmen ergriffen. Im Zuge der Umsiedlung seien viele Menschen aus verschiedenen Gründen umgekommen. Aber auch wenn sie nicht umgesiedelt worden wären, hätten den Armenien genauso hohe Verluste entstanden, denn die Sterberate bei den Muslimen in der Region sei keineswegs geringer gewesen. Es wird dann mit zahlreichen statistischen Angaben 'bewiesen', daß im Ersten Weltkrieg im Osten Anatoliens prozentual noch mehr Muslime starben als Armenier (KÜR§AD 1989,27 ff.). Es ist diese geradezu zynische Betrachtungsweise, welche die meisten türkischen Beiträge zur Geschichte des armenisch-türkischen Verhältnisses kennzeichnet, die hinsichtlich einer künftigen Umorientierung weiterhin pessimistisch stimmt. Es hat selbstverständlich auch andere Meinungen gegeben, besonders innerhalb der linksliberalen und außerakademischen Intelligenz. So hat Dogan AvciOGLU schon 1974 betont, daß in den Augen der jungtürkischen Führer eine radikale Lösung der griechischen und armenischen Frage die Grundvoraussetzung für die Existenz einer unabhängigen Türkei war.39 Autoren wie £aglar KEYDER und Re§at KASABA haben die vermeintliche Kompradorenrolle nicht-muslimischer Zwischenhändler im späten Osmanischen Reich, ein von der nationalistischen Geschichtsschreibung regelmäßig erhobener Vorwurf gegen die christlichen Minderheiten, deutlich verneint (KASABA et al. 1986; KASABA 1988a, 1988b).40 Bemerkenswert ist auch der Erfolg des Buches von Taner AK£AM über die türkische nationale Identität und die Armenische Frage, dessen erste Auflage 1992 innerhalb weniger Monate vergriffen war. Darin wird dem politischen Establishment der kemalistischen Türkei vorgehalten, den Völkermord an den Armeniern geleugnet zu haben (AK?AM 1994). Mit weiteren Publikationen hat AK?AM zur Belebung der

39

40

"Kisaca, Rum ve Ermeni sorununun en radikal bifimde fözümlenmesi, ittihat9ilann gözünde, bagimsizlik ifinde Türkiye'nin varhginin temel kojuludur" (AVCIOGLU, 1974, 1138). Für eine scharfe Kritik der Werke dieser Autoren siehe allerdings KAISER, 1998a. Die Angegriffenen haben sich jedoch, und das ist bemerkenswert, mit wesentlichen Punkten der Kritik für einverstanden erklärt. Siehe KASABA und KEYDER (1998).

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Diskussion über die Armenische Frage in der türkischen Öffentlichkeit wesentlich beigetragen ( A K £ A M 1 9 9 9 ; A K ? A M 2 0 0 0 ; A K £ A M 2 0 0 1 ) . Dennoch ist die überwältigende Mehrheit der türkischen Staatsbürger — ob politisch rechts oder links stehend — immer noch nicht bereit einzusehen, daß es einen Völkermord an den Armeniern gegeben hat. Dies ist nur zum Teil mit der nationalistischen Indoktrination des türkischen Geschichtsbewußtseins erklärbar. Ebenso wichtig ist es, einige Besonderheiten der historischen Entwicklung im armenisch-türkischen Raum zu beachten. Nationalstaatlicher Kontext Die türkisch-armenischen Beziehungen sollten, wie bereits betont, im Kontext der nationalstaatlichen Entwicklung seit dem 19. Jahrhundert betrachtet werden, und dazu gibt es auf armenischer wie auf türkischer Seite einen entwickelten Forschungsstand. Die Annahme einer armenischen Nationalbewegung als Faktor in den konfliktträchtigen Wechselbeziehungen zwischen Armeniern und Türken in den Jahrzehnten nach 1878 bedeutet übrigens ebensowenig die These einer armenischen nationalen 'Provokation' zu befürworten wie den Völkermord an den Armeniern leugnen zu wollen.41 Sie impliziert lediglich, die Methoden der Komparatie vom Feld anthropologischer Feststellungen auf das Feld historischer Prozesse zu übertragen. Verglichen wird bekanntlich nicht bloß, um Übereinstimmung zu finden, sondern auch, um Unterschiede festzuhalten. Und eine historisch fundierte Erklärung, warum es zum Völkermord an den Armeniern im Ersten Weltkrieg kam, ist vermutlich nur vermittels einer differenzierenden Betrachtung möglich.42 Als Ausgangspunkt einer solchen Betrachtung kann wieder die osmanische Reformperiode Tanzimat dienen. Jene Zeit sah nicht nur eine gewisse Säkularisierung politischer Strukturen innerhalb der armenischen wn7/ei-Gemeinschaft; zugleich stieg auch das Gewicht des armenischen Elements in Handel und Gewerbe, wie bereits erwähnt, spürbar an. Sogar im kulturellen Leben des Vielvölkerreiches spielten die Armenier nunmehr eine dominierende Rolle. Beispielsweise betrug die Zahl der armenischsprachigen Zeitungen Istanbuls im Jahre 1876 immerhin neun, während insgesamt nur 13 Zeitungen und Periodika (einschließlich offizieller Publikationen) auf Türkisch erschienen ( Y A L M A N 1 9 1 4 , 4 1 ) . Die ca. 9 0 Verlagshäuser der Hauptstadt befanden sich überwiegend in armenischem Besitz. Ein beachtlicher Teil der in den letzten Dekaden des Jahrhunderts produzierten Bücher erschien auf Armenisch, wobei sogar die auf Türkisch verfaßten Bücher nicht selten aus der Feder türkischsprechender Armenier stammten.43 Ebenfalls ist bekannt, daß das 41

Nach Ansicht seiner Kritiker gehört Bernard LEWIS ZU den ersten Autoren, die die türkische 'Provokationsthese' unterstützt haben. Ihm wird auch übel genommen, daß er von einem "struggle between two nations for the possession of a single homeland" ausgeht, obwohl er zugleich - und dies wesentlich früher als andere es getan haben - auch vom "holocaust of 1915" gesprochen hat (1961, 350). Für eine Kritik an Bernard LEWIS siehe MELSON (1986), 67 ff.; und vor allem MELSON (1992), 152-159.

42

Für einen gelungenen, komparatistisch-historisierenden Beitrag in diesem Sinne siehe KIESER und

43

Siehe STRAUSS (1992), hier die Anmerkungen 8 und 10, S. 7. Vgl. auch PETROSJAN (1985).

SCHALLER ( 2 0 0 2 ) , 1 1 - 8 0 .

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moderne Theater und die Oper in das Osmanische Reich hauptsächlich von türkischsprechenden armenischen Künstlern eingeführt worden sind, wie auch die Autoren der ersten türkischen Romane Armenier oder Griechen waren.44 Diese sozioökonomische wie kulturelle Dominanz reflektierte sich auch darin, daß immer mehr Armenier sichtbar gehobene Positionen im öffentlichen Dienst des Reiches einnahmen. Armenier waren an den provinzialen Gremien — z.B. Verwaltungsräten —, die ab 1840 gebildet wurden, selbstverständlich beteiligt.45 Später, im Laufe des Krimkrieges, erhielten sie wie die anderen Nichtmuslime Zugang zum Heeresdienst, und zwar bis zum Rang eines Obersten, und das ReformDekret von 1856 gewährte allen osmanischen Bürgern gleichberechtigten Zugang zu hohen Staatsämtern unter der Voraussetzung der persönlichen Eignung und bildungsmäßigen Qualifikation (FLNDLEY 1989, 32 ff.; SHAW 1992, 33-49). Die Gründung des Lyzeums von Galatasaray im Jahre 1868, in dem Französisch die Unterrichtssprache war, sollte als eine Bildungsstätte bürokratischer Kader der Zukunft dienen (DE SALVE 1874; DAVISON 1963, 248 ff.). Gleichermaßen waren nichtmuslimische Kinder ab 1877 zu allen militärischen Bildungsanstalten zugelassen, wie auch die im selben Jahr gegründete zivile Verwaltungsschule {Mülkiye) allen Studierenden ohne Unterschied der Religion offenstand (GÜLSOY 2000, 107-12; DEVEREUX 1963,216, Amn. 81). Obwohl die Armenier, wie die übrigen Nichtmuslime auch, sich eher weigerten, ihre Jugend zum Militärdienst einziehen zu lassen, war ihnen die Teilnahme am politischen Leben oder eine Tätigkeit als Beamter in osmanischen Diensten durchaus willkommen.46 So waren sie im ersten osmanischen Parlament (1876-78) angemessen vertreten (ORTAYLI 1978). Innerhalb der Bürokratie war es das Außenministerium, das die Jugend besonders anzog. Rund 30 Prozent des Personals dieses Ministeriums in der Periode von 1850-1908 waren Armenier, Griechen oder Juden (FlNDLEY 1982, 343 ff.; KRIKORIAN 1978). Während der Osmanismus mit seiner Betonung der Gleichheit aller Bürger ohne Unterschied der religiösen und ethnischen Zugehörigkeit gerade bei den Armeniern auf diese Weise Anklang fand, wuchs bei den Muslimen das Gefühl, ins Hintertreffen zu geraten.47 Vor allem die Kurden im Osten Anatoliens glaubten, seit Beginn der Reformen nur noch Benachteiligungen, ja sogar eine immer schärfer werdende Verfolgung von seiten der Zentralregierung erfahren zu haben, während der Staat sich dem armenischen Element gegenüber ausgesprochen wohlwollend zu verhalten schien, wobei die Gewährung einer 'Nationalverfassung' an die Armenier (1863) als eine

44

45 46

Über die Roller armenischer Künstler bei der Entwicklung des modernen Theaters in Istanbul seit den 1840er Jahren siehe AND, 1964, 66-71, 112-13; ferner ULU, 1993, 132-38, und VARTAN PA§A, 1991. Über den Beitrag von Armeniern zur osmanischen Architekturgeschichte siehe TUGLACI (1990). Siehe ERYILMAZ (1992), 192-223. Über die Diskussionen betreffend den Militärdienst siehe GÜLSOY (2000), 112-124. Vgl. auch ADANIR ( 1 9 8 9 ) , 1 5 3 - 1 6 4 , u n d ZÜRCHER ( 1 9 9 8 ) , 4 3 7 - 4 4 9 .

47

"The advantaging of the minorities over the Muslims led to a significant social polarization within Ottoman society during the nineteenth century" (GögEK 1996, 114). Einige Autoren sehen darin die Wurzel des rassistischen Hasses, den die Türken zu Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts gegenüber den wirtschaftlich erfolgreicheren Armeniern empfunden hätten. Vgl. ASTOURIAN (1998).

Fikret Adanir

230

besondere Gunst der Zentralregierung empfunden wurde

(HOFMANN

und

KOUTCHARIAN 1985, 100 ff.). 48

Die Reformen der Tanzimat-Äia führten freilich auch zu Spaltungen innerhalb der armenischen Gemeinschaft. So stellten sich die amiras (Kaufleute, höhere Beamten, Bankiers), d.h. die traditionelle Elite der armenischen millet, häufig gegen die Reformen, da sie dadurch eine Verschlechterung ihrer Position zugunsten der unteren städtischen Schichten (Handwerker u.a.) oder den Gemeindeführern in der Provinz befürchteten.49 Die Reformen unterhöhlten aber auch die Autorität der kirchlichen Hierarchie. Doch die Hauptgefahr drohte in diesem Bereich eher von Seiten ausländischer Missionare, deren Tätigkeit im Osmanischen Reich im Verlauf des 19. Jahrhunderts stark zunahm. Es kam schon 1830 zu einer Kirchenspaltung, als die Hohe Pforte die Gründung einer armenisch-katholischen m/Z/ef-Gemeinschaft anerkannte 50 (BEYDiLLi 1995). Nach der Gründung der armenisch-protestantischen Gemeinschaft im Jahre 1850 verschärfte sich die Konkurrenz zwischen verschiedenen Denominationen und Religionen um Einfluß auf die Christen Anatoliens zusehends. Sie wird in der Historiographie denn auch als ein wesentlicher Grund — neben dem Imperialismus der Großmächte — für die Entstehung der armenischen Frage angesehen (GÜRÜN 1983a; iLTER 1988).51 Besonders die Orientkrise 1875-78 markiert einen Wendepunkt in dieser Entwicklung. Anläßlich der 'bulgarischen Greuel' im Jahre 1876 kam es in England zu einer anti-türkischen Kampagne, in welcher der liberale Politiker und mehrmalige Premierminister William E. Gladstone die führende Rolle spielte. In seinem berühmten Pamphlet Bulgarian horrors and the Question of the East (1876), konzipiert auch als eine Attacke im Verlauf eines Wahlkampfes gegen die turkophile Politik seines Rivalen Benjamin Disraeli, kreierte bzw. reaktivierte Gladstone das stereotype Bild von dem Türken als den ewigen Feind der Menschheit und Zivilisation: "They were, upon the whole, from the black day when they first entered Europe, the one great anti-human specimen of humanity. Wherever they went, a broad line of blood marked the track behind them; and, as far as their dominion reached, civilization disappeared from view" (GLADSTONE 1 8 7 6 , 13). 5 2

48

Für den Text des Ermeni Milleti Nizamnamesi von 1863, eine Art Règlement organique der armenischen mi//ef-Gemeinschaft, siehe URAS (1976), 159-172. Über die Reformierung der armenischen mi7/ei-Organisation

v g l . a u c h DAVISON ( 1 9 6 3 ) , 1 2 0 - 1 2 6 ; ERYILMAZ ( 1 9 9 0 ) ,

119-124,

s o w i e ARTINIAN ( 1 9 7 0 ) . 49

Über die politische Polarisierung innerhalb der armenischen Gemeinschaft in dieser Periode siehe ÇARK ( 1 9 5 3 ) , 2 5 9 - 6 7 ; URAS ( 1 9 7 6 ) , 1 5 0 - 1 5 2 . Z u r S t e l l u n g d e r A m i r a s v g l . ARTINIAN ( 1 9 8 1 ) u n d BARSOUMIAN ( 1 9 8 2 ) , 1 7 1 - 1 8 4 .

50

51 52

Die erste armenisch-katholische Gemeinde in Konstantinopel war allerdings schon 1701 gegründet worden. Siehe SETIAN (1992), 8 ff. Siehe auch TCHOLAKIAN (1998). Vgl. auch DAVISON (1977). GLADSTONE ( 1 8 7 6 ) 13.

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Die Folge war "one of the deepest, most varied, and most prolonged outbursts of public feeling ever to manifest itself in a people not usually given to extravagant public display of private feeling. It went much beyond a mere anti-Ottoman or Muslim outburst, and no simple explanation is sufficient to account for or characterize it" (MlLLMAN 1 9 7 9 , 176). 5 3 Der Erfolg dieser politisch motivierten Aufregung war weitgehend den Berichten ehemaliger Missionare zu verdanken, die von Robert College am Bosporus aus das Foreign Office und die britischen Medien mit maßlos übertriebenen und nie gebührend verifizierten Berichten über die türkischen atrocities in Bulgarien belieferten (MlLLMAN 1 9 7 9 , 1 4 6 - 1 7 9 ; MlLLMAN 1980). 5 4

Mehr als Bulgarien waren aber die armenisch besiedelten Gebiete des Osmanischen Reiches das Aktionsfeld amerikanischer Missionstätigkeit im 19. Jahrhundert. In den Evangelistenkreisen Neuenglands hegte man schon früh die Hoffnung, mit Hilfe der orientalischen Christen, die sich trotz muslimischer Unterdrückung 'auf wunderbare Weise' behauptet hatten, "the downfall of the Mahometan religion" herbeiführen zu können, wie es in einer Denkschrift aus dem Jahre 1 8 1 4 heißt (KURTVIT 1 9 8 4 , 14). In der Folgezeit gelang es dem American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, Kleinasien mit einem dichten Netz von Missionsstationen, Krankenhäusern und vor allem Schulen zu überziehen (DANIEL 1970; GRABILL 1971; STONE 1984; KOCABA§OGLU 1989; AKGÜN 1996; MAKSIDI 1997; KIESER 2 0 0 0 ) .

Wie zuweilen auch von armenischer Seite konzediert, haben sich die Missionare einseitig zugunsten der Armenier engagiert. Begünstigt durch das Regime der Kapitulationen, das den Ausländern im Osmanischen Reich Exterritorialität gewährte, gelang es ihnen, wesentlich zur Hebung des kulturellen Niveaus der osmanischen Armenier beizutragen. Sie säten aber dabei auch Zwietracht.55 Nicht nur die Armenisch-Apostolische Kirche sah ihre Einheit durch die Missionare gefährdet (SALT 1 9 8 5 - 8 6 ) . Auch die osmanischen Regierungen, besonders die Abdulhamids II, empfanden deren Tätigkeit gleichsam als einen ideologischen

53

S i e h e a u c h SETON-WATSON ( 1 9 3 5 / 1 9 7 2 ) , 5 1 - 1 0 1 ; SHANNON ( 1 9 6 3 / 1 9 7 5 ) ; SHANNON ( 1 9 9 9 ) , 1 9 0 ff.; SAAB ( 1 9 9 1 ) ; JENKINS ( 1 9 9 5 ) , 4 0 1 - 0 3 .

54

55

Über die Stellung der amerikanischen Missionare in der Geschichte der bulgarischen Nationalbewegung siehe ferner CLARKE (1971). Die amerikanischen Missionare "decried the religious persecution of Armenian Protestants at the hand of the Armenian Apostolic patriarch", ohne ihren eigenen Beitrag zu dem bald entstehenden Schisma in der armenischen Kirche zu bedenken. Sie waren "blind to the destructive influence of missionary work ... The evangelists ... intruded upon another land and its peoples self-righteously, with little thought that such a disruptive impulse might ricochet upon them and those whom they sought to enlighten". Siehe die Besprechung des Werkes von MARTIN (1991), durch MORANIAN ( 1 9 9 2 ) , 100.

232

Fikret Adanir

Krieg, der die Basis der osmanischen Legitimität bei Christen wie Muslimen unterminierte (DERÎNGÎL 1998, 112-34; KARPAT 2001).56 Als das Osmanenreich eine schwere Niederlage im Krieg von 1877/78 gegen Rußland erlitt, begann in der Geschichte der türkisch-armenischen Beziehungen eine neue Phase. Hatte sich die armenische »n//ei-Führung noch am 7. Dezember 1877 bereit gezeigt, einen substantiellen Beitrag zur Verteidigung des gemeinsamen Vaterlandes zu leisten, so beschloß man am 18. Dezember, den Zaren darum zu bitten, die armenischen Gebiete im Osten Anatoliens entweder dauerhaft zu besetzen oder für die Einführung einer autonomen Verwaltung in jener Region zu sorgen. Der armenische Patriarch Nerses Vardjabedian von Konstantinopel erreichte es schließlich, daß die nationalen Belange seiner Gemeinschaft im Vorfrieden von San Stefano berücksichtigt wurden.57 Art. 16 jenes Dokumentes verpflichtete die osmanische Regierung, durch sofortige Einführung von Reformen die Sicherheit der Armenier in den östlichen Vilayets gegenüber den Kurden und Tscherkessen zu garantieren.58 Auch die sich abzeichnende Revision des Vertrags von San Stefano durch einen europäischen Kongreß im Sommer 1878 ließ die armenischen Hoffnungen auf die Erlangung von Autonomie nicht dämpfen. Beharrlich versuchte man, die Vertretungen der Großmächte (vor allem Großbritanniens) über den territorialen Umfang des anvisierten autonomen Gebietes ebenso wie die demographischen Verhältnisse darin zu informieren. Die speziell vorbereiteten Bevölkerungsstatistiken wiesen im weiten Raum zwischen dem Kaukasus und Kilikien beachtliche Prozentzahlen und teilweise sogar Mehrheiten von Armeniern auf. Auch ein eiligst ausgearbeiteter Verfassungsentwurf (règlement organique) wurde den Delegationen des Berliner Kongresses mit der Bitte um Unterstützung vorgelegt.59 Durch diese Bemühungen konnten die Armenier immerhin erreichen, daß ihre Interessen auch im Friedensvertrag von Berlin 1878 berücksichtigt wurden. Art. 61 verpflichtete die Hohe Pforte, "Verbesserungen und Reformen ins Leben zu rufen, welche die örtlichen Bedürfnisse in den von den Armeniern bewohnten Provinzen erfordern, und für die Sicherheit derselben gegen die Tscherkessen und Kurden einzustehen". Besonders wichtig war diejenige Bestimmung, wonach die Mächte

56

57

58 59

H. L. KIESER betont, daß die Missionare in Kleinasien den 'Mohammedanismus' (neben dem 'Papismus') als Hauptfeind des historischen Fortschrittes betrachteten, was 'einen konstruktiven Blick auf die osmanische Mehrheit' von vornherein erschwert habe. Siehe Der verpasste Friede, S. 164. Offensichtlich war die folgende Sichtweise auf die muslimische Bevölkerung des Landes nicht untypisch: "Ignorant of the word and Will of God, the Turks fail to distinguish between right and wrong and have no proper conception of sin. As a natural consequence, lack of moral principle is the greatest defect of the Turkish character". Revd GREENE (1916), 16, zit. in SALT (1993), 18. Die Umstellung in der Politik der armenischen mi//et-Führung und deren diplomatische Initiativen nach der osmanischen Niederlage Ende 1877 werden geschildert in URAS (1976), 200-17; SONYEL (1987a), 45-48; GÜRÜN (1983a), 96-100. Text des Präliminarfriedens von San Stefano vom 3. März 1878 in Noradounghian (1902), 509-21. Zum Text dieses Verfassungsentwurfs mit einer statistischen Anlage zur Demographie der 'armenischen Vilayets' siehe URAS (1976), 227-235. Eine englische Übersetzung in GÜRÜN (1983a), 100-105.

Die historiographische Kontroverse über die Armenische Frage

233

befugt sein sollten, die Ausführung solcher Reformen zu überwachen.60 Dies bedeutete die Internationalisierung der armenischen Frage. Trotz solchen Erfolgs war jedoch die armenische Meinung im Osmanischen Reich mit dem in Berlin Erreichten keineswegs zufrieden. Im Vergleich zu Unabhängigkeit oder Autonomie, welche einige Balkanvölker dank großmächtlicher Gunst nunmehr erlangt hatten, schien die europäische Diplomatie für die Armenier nur Versprechungen bereit zu halten.61 Die Lektion, welche die Armenier daraus zogen, war, daß man ohne einen bewaffneten Kampf nichts Substantielles würde erreichen können (SONYEL 1987a, 55). Seit dem Berliner Kongreß von 1878 hat es also eine armenische Nationalbewegung gegeben, die nach dem Vorbild der vorangegangenen erfolgreichen Bewegungen der Griechen und Bulgaren die Errichtung eines eigenen Staates auf einem historisch definierten und legitimierten Territorium anstrebte. Für das muslimische Empfinden dagegen war in jener Zeit eine kollektive Erfahrung bestimmend: die massenhafte Vertreibung aus der Halbinsel Krim, dem Kaukasus und aus den verlorenen Gebieten südlich der Donau (DUMONT 1 9 8 0 ; BOGLCEVLC

1950;

§IM§iR

1968-89;

PLNSON

1972,

1973-74;

KOCACIK

1980;

Das Flüchtlingsproblem stellte die osmanische Regierung vor kaum lösbaren Ansiedlungs- und Integrationsproblemen, deren wahre Dimensionen und Auswirkungen auf das türkisch-armenische Verhältnis in Kleinasien kaum überschätzt werden können (EREN 1 9 7 2 ; SMLATIC 1 9 7 8 ; TURGAY 1 9 9 1 ; M C C A R T H Y 1 9 9 5 ) .

HABigoÖLU

1 9 9 3 ; KARPAT 1 9 9 0 , 2 0 0 1 ; TEKELI 1 9 9 0 ; DERINGIL

1991;

iPEK

1994).62 Die Vertriebenen waren überwiegend keine Türken, sondern Angehörige islamisierter autochthoner Bevölkerungen, so z.B. die muslimischen Tscherkessen, Tschetschenen, Abchasen, Georgier, die muslimischen Griechen aus Kreta, die muslimischen Bosniaken, Albaner oder die slawisch sprechenden bulgarischen Muslime (Pomaken). In ihren Augen wie in den Augen türkischer Muslime Anatoliens war die bisherige Politik der osmanischen Reformbürokratie samt der dazugehörenden Idee des Osmanismus gründlich diskreditiert. Die Regierung Abdulhamids II. (1876-1909) trug der veränderten Stimmungslage dadurch Rechnung, daß sie eine Versöhnungspolitik gegenüber jenen Gruppen einleitete, die durch die bisherigen Reformen entfremdet worden waren. Die integrative Kraft dieser neuen Politik lag in der ideologischen Betonung islamischer Grundwerte. Gegenüber der christlich-abendländischen Kultur rückte man die großen Leistungen der islamischen Zivilisation in den Vordergrund. Angesichts der imperialistischen Expansion Europas in den muslimischen Gebieten Afrikas und Asiens gelang es zudem, das seit langem verblaßte Amt des Kalifats zu reaktivieren und dem Kalifen als Beschützer aller Muslime ein neues Image zu verpassen (BERKES 1964, 253-70; ÖZCAN 1997, 23-62; DERINGIL 1998, 68-92; KARPAT 2001, 155-82; LANDAU 1990). So konnte der Sultan die Loyalität von jenen muslimischen Gruppen sichern, die während der Reformperiode in zahlreichen

60

61

62

Siehe Der Friede von Berlin und die Protokolle des Berliner Congresses. Authentischer Text, Leipzig 1878, S. XXIII. Siehe die Note, mit welcher die armenische Delegation gegen die Mißachtung der legitimen Forderungen der Armenier durch den Berliner Kongreß protestierte, in URAS (1976), 251. Für eine Diskussion dieser Problematik siehe A D A N I R und KAISER (2000), 273-292.

234

Fikret Adamr

Aufständen die staatliche Autorität herausgefordert hatten; vor allem die Kurden im Osten Anatoliens sollten fortan eine Schlüsselrolle in der Hamid'schen Nationalitätenpolitik spielen ( Ü U G U I D 1973; K O D A M A N 1979, 1983; B R U I N E S S E N 1989, 2 4 8 ff.; RUSSO 1995).

Angesichts dieser Entwicklung innerhalb der Mehrheitsgesellschaft wirkten die Autonomie- und Unabhängigkeitsbestrebungen der Armenier nach 1878 wie Provokation aus und verschärften die latenten Konflikte. Dabei setzte die armenische Führung zunächst auf die Einlösung des Reformversprechens gemäß dem Art. 61 des Berliner Vertrags. Die Umgestaltung der ostanatolischen Vilayets in ein autonomes Armenien unter einem Armenier als Generalgouverneur — genau dies verlangte der Patriarch Nerses — war jedoch für den Sultan undenkbar, wie dies auch von der britischen Diplomatie verständnisvoll konzediert wurde: "It is not likely that the Porte would listen to any suggestion for the creation of an Armenian autonomous province, nor is it, I am convinced, to the real interest of the Armenians that they should put forward such a pretension. They appear to forget when they point to Eastern Roumelia as a precedent to justify their demand, that in that province the Christians were in a very considerable majority when compared with the Mussulman population. The contrary is the case in almost every part of Asiatic Turkey. Any attempt of the Armenians to obtain autonomy, which, of course, in the sense they place upon the term, means exclusive Christian rule and administration, would be resisted to the utmost by the Mahommedans, who are well acquainted with the fate which has befallen their co-religionists in Bulgaria and Eastern Roumelia. The consequence would, most probably, be a bloody struggle, if not a general massacre of the Armenians".63 Als es offensichtlich wurde, daß die Mächte vorerst nicht bereit waren, zugunsten der Armenier militärisch zu intervenieren, traten in den 1880er Jahren armenische revolutionäre Organisationen in Aktion, deren Ziel es war, eben diese Intervention zu erzwingen.64 Infolgedessen erlebte Anatolien in der letzten Dekade des 19. Jahrhunderts ethnisch-religiöse Auseinandersetzungen, die von Massaker und Vertreibung geprägt waren. Mochten hierbei zunächst auch die sozialen Mißstände wie Steuerdruck, Korruption, oder Enteignung eine maßgebende Rolle gespielt haben,65 stellen die Ereignisse von Sassoun im Herbst 1894 eindeutig einen qualitativen Umschlag in

63

Layard to Salisbury, Constantinople, February 17, 1880, F.O. 424/106, No. 81, abgedruckt in §1M?1R

64

"It was on this fact that the revolutionary leadership gambled ... Far from being an adventure, the Armenian revolution, coordinated with European attack, had every possibility for successfully culminating in the overthrow of Hamid and the establishing of Armenian independence" (ATAMIAN, 1955, 143). Zur Entstehung armenischer revolutionärer Organisationen - die Armenakan in Van (1885), die Huntschak in Genf (1889), Dashnaktzoutioun: die Föderation Armenischer Revolutionäre

(1982), 673.

i n T i f l i s ( 1 8 9 0 ) s i e h e ebd.,

S . 9 2 - 1 2 9 ; NALBANDIAN ( 1 9 6 3 ) ;

DASNABEDIAN ( 1 9 8 8 ) .

Vgl.

auch

MINASSIAN ( 1 9 8 3 ) , 2 8 f f . 65

So wird die aufständische Bewegung in ZEYTUN 1878-80 auf soziale Ursachen zurückgeführt; doch seien die Ereignisse bald politisch instrumentalisiert worden. Siehe ¡LTER (1988), 67-127.

Die historiographische Kontroverse über die Armenische Frage

235

eine zunehmend nationalpolitisch bestimmte Bürgerkriegssituation dar, in welcher der von armenischen Freischärlern (fedais) gegen die muslimischen Kurden eingeleitete Kampf nach dem Muster Angriff-Gegenangriff (aggression-retaliation pattern) verlief ( A T A M I A N 1955, 131).66 Die neuerlichen 'Greueltaten der Türken' riefen große Empörung vor allem in liberal-protestantischen Kreisen in Europa und Amerika hervor, die in mancher Hinsicht den Echo der 'Bulgarian Horrors' von 1876 evozierte ( G R E E N E 1895; H U D R Y - M E N O S 1896; von S Y D A C O F F 1896; TURKEY 1897). Die Unterdrückung des Aufstands hatte, nach Berichten aus diesen Kreisen, mindestens 10.000 Armeniern das leben gekostet.67 Demgegenüber stellte eine vom Sultan eingesetzte Kommission bestehend aus den Konsuln Großbritanniens, Frankreichs und Rußlands allerdings nur 265 Tote fest ( S A L T 1993, 2).68 Die Ereignisse zogen die Intervention der Großmächte unter der Führung Großbritanniens nach sich. Man forderte die osmanische Regierung auf, eine Art Gebietsautonomie für die Armenier im Osten einzuführen, die von einer "reorganisation along 'ethnographical lines"' ausging, "which effectively meant carving up the provinces into administrative districts separated by religion" ( S A L T 1993, 154). Obwohl der Sultan die Notwendigkeit von Reformen anerkannte, lehnte er die Ernennung von christlichen Gouverneuren für die östlichen Provinzen entschieden ab. Er war höchstens bereit, christliche Vize-Gouverneure für jene Distrikte zu akzeptieren, in denen die Christen die Mehrheit bildeten. Distrikte mit christlicher Mehrheit gab es aber in ganz Kleinasien nur wenige. Dies wurde bald auch den europäischen Diplomaten klar, weshalb sie als Grundlage für die Gebietsautonomie immer kleinere administrative Einheiten befürworteten.69 Während das Reformprogramm gleichsam im Sande verlief, läßt sich mit Loise Nalbandian konstatieren, daß man sich armenischerseits im Zuge der gewaltsamen Auseinandersetzungen mit kurdischen Stämmen und osmanischen Behörden in den 1890er Jahren daran zu gewöhnen begann, Blutvergießen als eine normale Form patriotischer Opfergabe zu betrachten.70 66

67

In bezug auf die Autorschaft dieses Konflikts stell ATAMIAN fest: "It is true that the Hunchaks, under the leadership of Murad and Damadian, engineered the movement in Sassoun in 1894" (ATAMIAN 1955,139). Siehe auch WALKER (1979), WALKER (1980), 152, und KIESER (2000), 165-167. "It seems safe to say that forty villages were totally destroyed, and it is probable that sixteen thousand at least were killed. The lowest estimate is ten thousand, and many put it much higher" (GREENE 1 8 9 5 , 2 4 ) .

68

69

Für den Bericht der Consular Delegates attached to the Commission appointed to inquire into the Events at Sasun siehe Currie to Salisbury, Therapia, August 15, 1895, F. O. 424/183, No. 192, abgedruckt in: §IM?1R (1990), 73-112. DADRIAN weist darauf hin, daß die westlichen Konsulardelegierten in ihren separaten, z.T. geheimen Berichten die Zahl der Opfer wieder nach oben korrigierten. Siehe DADRIAN (1995a), 117-18. "[A]ccording to the existing ethnographical distribution, it is doubtful whether any sandjak or caza contains a majority of Armenians." Curie to the Earl of Kimberley, Constantinople, January 19, 1895, No. 48, FO 424/181, No. 88, abgedruckt in: §1M$1R (1989), 508. Zum Reformprogramm für die östlichen Provinzen siehe [Accounts and Papers], Turkey. No. 2 (1897). Vgl. auch SALT (1993), 9 5 - 1 1 0 ; SALT ( 1 9 9 0 ) ; KARACA ( 1 9 9 3 ) .

70

"Bloodshed became a more commonly acknowledged form of patriotic sacrifice". NALBANDIAN (1963), 159. Artikulationsformen und Tragweite armenisch-nationaler Bestrebungen in den 1890er Jahren werden diskutiert in ADANIR (2003).

236

Fikret Adanir

Die jungtürkische Opposition seit den 1890er Jahren richtete sich in erster Linie gegen die Autokratie Sultan Abdulhamids. Eine darüber hinausgehende Gemeinsamkeit politischer Zielsetzung ließ sich jedoch vorerst nicht herstellen. Während eine Mehrheit, darunter auch Armenier, für die Dezentralisation des Reiches mit entsprechender regionaler Autonomie eintrat und um dieses Zieles willen sogar bereit war, die europäischen Großmächte zur militärischen Intervention aufzufordern, pochte die Minderheit, die als 'zentralistisch' galt, auf die Respektierung der osmanischen Souveränität.71 Diese später sog. Unionisten bzw. Ittihadisten hielten die Einheit der Reichsvölker im Sinne des Osmanismus für das höchste Ziel (HANiOGLU 2001, 173-81). Ihnen sollte es Ende 1907 gelingen, die übrigen Gruppierungen auf ein gemeinsames Programm festzulegen. Der Kern dieses Programms war die Wiedereinführung der Verfassung und des parlamentarischen Systems (HANiOGLU 191-209). So kam es zu der spektakulären 'Völkerverbrüderung' in den Tagen der jungtürkischen Revolution im Sommer 1908. Indes war die nationale Frage keineswegs gelöst. Die gegensätzlichen Interessen traten in den Parlamentswahlen im Spätherbst 1908 offen zutage; nicht zuletzt die zahlreichen Unregelmäßigkeiten bei diesen Wahlen unterhöhlten das Vertrauen zum jungtürkischen Komitee für 'Einheit und Fortschritt' (KANSU 1997, 163-241). Die feindliche Haltung der Nachbarstaaten und einiger Großmächte — wie etwa die Annexion Bosniens und der Herzegowina durch Österreich-Ungarn — war ein weiterer Faktor, der zur Diskreditierung des neuen Regimes beitrug. Die islamistische wie die liberale Opposition trat in der 'gegenrevolutionären' Bewegung vom '31 März' 1909 eindrucksvoll in Erscheinung, die Unionisten wurden überall verjagt (NADi 1325/1909; DANi§MEND 1986; AK§iN 1970). Da es bald auch zu Massakern an den Armeniern in Adana (Kilikien) kam, schien die jungtürkisch-armenische Verständigung endgültig verspielt zu sein.72 Dennoch setzten nach der Rückeroberung der Macht im Mai 1909 das jungtürkische Komitee und die Armenische Revolutionäre Föderation (Dashnaktsutiun) ihre Zusammenarbeit fort. Bald begann sich allerdings bei den Armeniern ein Gefühl von Enttäuschung bemerkbar zu machen; sie hatten von einer jungtürkischen Regierung schon immer die Rückgabe ihrer Gemeindeländereien erwartet, die sich inzwischen im Besitz kurdischer Bauern oder kaukasischer Flüchtlinge befanden. Die jungtürkische Regierung jedoch, die von immer neuen außen- wie innenpolitischen Verwicklungen abgelenkt wurde, konnte sich einen kurdischen Aufstand im Osten schwerlich leisten (AHMAD 1983).73 Die Dashnaktsutiun bezog daraufhin allmählich eine oppositionelle Stellung gegenüber den Jungtürken, wenn auch die Unionisten sich noch im Jahre 1912 entschlossen zeigten, den armenischen Besitz zu restituieren (KANSU 2000, 331-32).

71

Über die politischen Ideen der Jungtürken siehe u.a. AHMAD (1969); AHMAD (1980); AHMAD (1982); MARDIN ( 1 9 8 3 ) ; HANIOGLU ( 1 9 9 5 ) , 2 0 0 - 2 1 2 ; ders. ( 2 0 0 1 ) , 2 8 9 - 3 1 1 ; KAYALI ( 1 9 9 7 ) .

72

73

Zu den Adana-Massakern von 1909 vgl. ATAMIAN (1955), 159-75; WALKER (1980), 186-88; AHMAD (1982), 420; ASAF (1982); SONYEL (1987b); KÄVORKIAN (1999). Eine ausführliche Diskussion der Agrarverhältnisse im Zusammenhang mit der nationalen Frage enthält ASTOURIAN, 2002.

Die historiographische Kontroverse über die Armenische Frage

237

Ein gewichtiger Grund für das Scheitern der Jungtürken ist jedoch darin zu sehen, daß ein muslimisches Bürgertum, das als Träger des neuen konstitutionellen Systems hätte dienen können, noch nicht entstanden war. So stützten sich die Unionisten vorwiegend auf die grundbesitzende Schicht und auf die Militärs. Von den muslimischen Massen, deren Interessen sie zu artikulieren glaubten, waren sie dabei kulturell entfremdet (MARDiN 1983). Selber Anhänger positivistischer Lehren und diverser sozialdarwinistischer Vorstellungen, neigten die Jungtürken dazu, die Rückständigkeit des Reiches auf die islamische Religion zurückzuführen.74 So war es nicht zufällig, daß die oppositionelle Bewegung sich zunehmend auf islamistische Kreise stützte, während die Jungtürken sich immer mehr unter den Schutz des Militärs begaben. Es bildete sich ein autoritäres Regime heraus, das mit streng zentralistischen Maßnahmen u.a. die muslimischen Albaner gegen sich aufbrachte. Die albanischen Aufstände seit Frühjahr 1910 trugen denn auch zur raschen Entmachtung des jungtürkischen Komitees erheblich bei. Nutznießer — besonders nach Beginn des italienisch-türkischen Krieges 1911 — waren die christlichen Balkanstaaten, die im Herbst 1912 das Osmanische Reich angriffen, um dessen europäischen Besitz unter sich aufzuteilen. Die Niederlage im Balkankrieg wurde von zeitgenössischen Beobachtern primär dem Mangel an nationaler Motivation der Muslime und dem 'Verrat' nichtmuslimischer Soldaten in der osmanischen Armee zugeschrieben (ADANIR 2002). Die politische Orientierungslosigkeit infolge des militärischen Debakels ausnutzend, ergriff das 'Komitee für Einheit und Fortschritt' Ende Januar 1913 erneut die Macht, um das Land bis 1918 allein zu regieren. Man war nunmehr entschlossen, eine Umgestaltung von Wirtschaft, Gesellschaft und Politik in nationalem Sinne einzuleiten.75 Nicht zuletzt unter dem Eindruck einer neuen Flüchtlingswelle aus den von den Balkanbund-Armeen besetzten Gebieten war es mancherorts ohnehin zu christenfeindlichen Überschreitungen gekommen. Auch unter den Flüchtlingen, die im Winter 1913/14 in größter Not in Westanatolien lebten, war Bandenbildung zu beobachten, wobei vor allem griechische Dörfer in der Umgebung izmirs (Smyrna) überfallen wurden. Infolgedessen setzte schon vor dem Ausbruch des Ersten Weltkrieges ein Exodus kleinasiatischer Griechen zu den vorgelagerten Inseln ein — eine Entwicklung, an welcher das regionale jungtürkische Komitee nicht unbeteiligt war (VlNCENZ 1914-15; BAYAR 1967, 1577-82; AVCIOÖLU 1974, 1115-18; BERBER 1997, 57-61).76 Offensichtlich war die jungtürkische Führung schon zu dieser Zeit innerlich bereit, auch ungewöhnlich harte Maßnahmen einschließlich 'ethnischer Säuberung' zu ergreifen, sollten die 'nationalen Interessen' es als notwendig erscheinen lassen (AK^AM 2001, 64).

74

Zu positivistischen und sozialdarwinistischen Vorstellungen der Jungtürken siehe vor

allem

HANIOGLU ( 1 9 8 6 ) , 9 - 7 2 ; HANIOGLU ( 1 9 8 4 ) ; HANIOGLU ( 1 9 9 5 ) , 2 0 3 - 2 1 2 . 75

76

Bereits zu Beginn der 1880er Jahre propagierte Ahmed Midhat Efendi (Ekonomi Politik, Istanbul 1296/1880-81) eine fast etatistisch klingende Wirtschaftspolitik, welche auf lange Sicht die Ausschaltung der nicht-muslimischen Zwischenhändler implizierte. Siehe SAYAR (1986), 398-417, und GEORGEON (1991), 461-79. Vgl. auch GERLACH (2002), 363 ff. Zur Vertreibung von Muslimen während der Balkankriege siehe HALA^OGLU (1995), 29-63; M C C A R T H Y ( 1 9 9 5 ) , 1 3 5 - 1 7 7 ; BOECKH ( 1 9 9 6 ) , 2 5 7 - 2 7 3 .

Fikret Adarur

238

Erneute Internationalisierung der armenischen Frage Eine derartige Radikalisierung deutete sich auch im Zuge der Verhandlungen über die Gewährung von Autonomie für die 'armenischen Provinzen' im Jahre 1913 und 1914 an. Der Hauptstreitpunkt war, daß die Armenier, fast überall gegenüber der muslimischen Bevölkerung in der Minderheit, darauf bestanden, daß nur die seßhafte Bevölkerung in den künftigen autonomen Provinzen Bürgerrechte erhalten sollte, was einer unvertretbaren Brüskierung der nomadisierenden Kurden gleichkäme. Die armenische Führung wollte ferner erreichen, daß die muslimischen Flüchtlinge — hier in der Hauptsache Tscherkessen und Georgier — vom Territorium der künftigen autonomen Provinz ausgeschlossen wurden ( U R A S 1976, 400-403; H O V A N N I S I A N 1967, 30-34). Schon im Dezember 1913 warnte Cemal Pascha die Armenier davor, daß sie ihre nationalen Interessen im Vertrauen auf Unterstützung von Seiten Europas rücksichtslos durchsetzten, denn "in consequence, the Moslem population ... will rise in arms, and three hundred to four hundred thousand Armenians will be massacred", wie in den Memoiren Garegin Pasdermadjians (Armen Garo), eines der politischen Führer der osmanischen Armenier, zu lesen ist ( V R A T Z I A N 1990, 184). Ende Juni 1914 kamen Pasdermadjian und der Jungtürkenführer Talät zum letzten Mal zusammen. In bezug auf die politischen Rechte der nomadisierenden Bevölkerungsgruppen im künftigen autonomen Gebiet sagte der Führer der Armenier — nach seinen eigenen Angaben — Talät folgendes ins Gesicht: "Our national consciousness is so far advanced that we will prefer to demolish this great edifice called the Ottoman Empire, rather than permit you to see Armenia without Armenians. I know we shall remain under these ruins and suffer heavy losses. But in the last analysis, we shall emerge better off than you will ... We are the Armenian revolutionaries of yesteryear and we tell you what we have always said: We will not permit you to drive our working people out of our ancient land, for the benefit of nomadic Kurds" (VRATZIAN,

191).

Diese Verschärfung der jungtürkisch-armenischen Beziehungen vollzog sich in einer Zeit, in welcher das Osmanische Reich militärisch sehr geschwächt und außenpolitisch gänzlich isoliert war.77 Das Triumvirat von Enver, Talät und Cemal wünschte sich einen Anschluß an die Mächtegruppierung Rußland, Großbritannien und Frankreich, da man Gefahren eher von dieser Seite befürchtete. In der Tat verfolgten die Ententemächte kaum verdeckte Expansionsinteressen und waren nicht bereit, sich auf Wahrung der territorialen Integrität des Osmanischen Reiches festzulegen. Der Versuch Talät Paschas im Mai 1914, eine Annäherung an das Zarenreich herbeizuführen, blieb ebenso ohne Ergebnis wie eine ähnliche Initiative Cemal Paschas in Frankreich im Juni 1914 ( T R U M P E N E R 1968, 17-61; K U R A T

77

Das jungtürkische Komitee "betrachtete den Versuch der Armenier, in einem Moment der Schwäche des Reiches mit Hilfe anderer Staaten Reformen zu erzwingen, statt diese als innenpolitische Frage zu behandeln, als 'Verrat' und 'Undankbarkeit'" (AK^AM 1996, 47).

Die historiographische Kontroverse über die Armenische Frage

239

1970, 216-24; WEBER 1970, 54; FISCHER 1978, 513-15).78 In beiden Fällen erwiesen sich die Teilungsabsichten in bezug auf das Osmanenreich als ausschlaggebender Faktor. Rußland erwog damals ernstlich, die Meerengen auf dem Wege eines Präventivschlags gegen den noch neutralen Nachbarn im Süden zu besetzen.79 Was die Haltung Frankreichs betrifft, war man in Paris 'vom Siege so sehr überzeugt", daß man dem Bündnispartner Rußland zu verstehen gab, "es wäre vielleicht vorteilhafter, die Türkei in das Lager unserer Gegner hineinzuziehen, um auf diese Weise mit ihr ein Ende zu machen" (STIEVE 1926, 38). Ahnliche Vorstellungen herrschten im Foreign Office; die britischen Diplomaten empfahlen Sir Edward Grey noch Mitte September 1914, gegenüber der osmanischen Pforte hart zu bleiben, und zwar mit der folgenden Begründung: "Either Turkey will fight against us, or the reckoning when peace comes will be so heavy that it would have been better that she should have fought and been beaten" (HELLER 1986, 182-84). Unter diesen Bedingungen gewann der militärische Flügel der Jungtürken, der einem Zusammengehen mit den Mittelmächten schon immer geneigt war, die Oberhand.80 Die Bündnisfrage einmal geklärt, schritt die jungtürkische Führung entschlossen zur Verwirklichung ihres nationalen Programms: Es ging um die Erringung der vollen staatlichen Souveränität. Dazu sollte das verhaßte Regime der Kapitulationen ebenso annulliert werden, wie die den 'armenischen Provinzen' gewährten Autonomierechte zurückzunehmen waren (AvciOöLU 1974, 1133-36).81 Auch die Zeit für den Übergang zur "Nationalökonomie" erachteten die Jungtürken nunmehr für gekommen (TOPRAK 1 9 8 2 , 5 7 ; 1 9 9 5 ; 2 0 0 3 ) . 8 2 Was den territorialen Aspekt der jungtürkischen 'Kriegszielpolitik' angeht, so sind Meinungen in der Literatur, die den Jungtürken Revanchegelüste nebst großtürkischem Expansionismus unterstellen, zu relativieren.83 Bestimmend waren in dieser Hinsicht vielmehr Vorstellungen und Bedürfnisse des deutschen Bündnispartners. So war es das wilhelminische Deutschland, das die osmanische Regierung zur Instrumentalisierung des Islam durch die Erklärung eines 'heiligen Krieges' drängte: Die im November 1914 in feierlicher Form verlesene Fetwa des Scheich-ül-Islam rief die Muslime in der Welt im Namen des Sultan-Kalifen zum 78

75

80

Über Djemal Paschas Initiativen gegenüber Frankreich siehe CEMAL PA?A, Hatiralar (ittihat-Terakki ve Birinci Dünya Harbi), ed. Behfet Cemal, istanbul 1959, S. 85-89. Eine ausführliche Darstellung der osmanischen Suche nach einem Bündnispartner im Jahre 1914 auch in BAYUR (1952), 504-669. Siehe das Protokoll der Sonderkonferenz vom 21. Februar 1914 unter dem Vorsitz des Außenministers Sazonov in: HOETZSCH (1931). Für eine Analyse dieser Quelle siehe FISCHER (1978), 504-511. Begleitumstände des Kriegseintritts des Osmanischen Reiches werden in der Forschung kontrovers d i s k u t i e r t . V g l . u . a . KURAT ( 1 9 6 7 ) ; TRUMPENER ( 1 9 6 8 ) , 6 - 2 0 ; WALLACH ( 1 9 7 6 ) , 1 2 6 - 1 6 2 ; AHMAD (1989).

81

S i e h e a u c h KUNKE ( 1 9 1 8 ) ; THAYER ( 1 9 2 3 ) ; MAZARD ( 1 9 2 3 ) ; SHAHLÄ ( 1 9 9 8 ) ; AHMAD ( 2 0 0 0 ) .

82

Eine Analyse der einschlägigen Periodika in BATIN (2000). Taner Ak?am gibt als Kriegsziele der Jungtürken an, "erstens, die Rückeroberung verlorengegangener Gebiete vornehmlich auf dem Balkan und 'Rache' an den dortigen Christen, zweitens expansionistische Zielsetzungen in Richtung Kaukasus und Mittelasien und drittens die armenische Frage" (1996, 44). Gerade die erste Zielvorstellung erscheint jedoch angesichts der griechischen Neutralität und der Tatsache, daß Bulgarien sich sogar zum osmanischen Bündnispartner entwickeln sollte, abwegig.

83

Fikret Adanir

240

Kampf gegen die Regierungen jener Länder auf, die sich als Feinde des Islams erwiesen hätten, vor allem England, Frankreich und Rußland.84 Nach der Kriegserklärung an Rußland begann aber Enver Pascha, dem nun die Führung osmanischer Armeen oblag, auch Hoffnungen hinsichtlich der Realisierung panturkistischer Ziele zu hegen. In einem Rundschreiben des Komitees für Einheit und Fortschritt an seine Zweigstellen wurde das Zarenreich als 'unversöhnlicher ewiger Feind' charakterisiert und das Kriegsziel des Komitees mit folgenden Worten umschrieben: "Vergessen wir nicht, daß unsere Teilnahme am Weltkriege nicht allein darauf hinausgeht, uns gegen das uns drohende Verderben zu schützen, sondern daß wir damit ein noch viel näheres Ziel verfolgen: die Verwirklichung unseres nationalen Ideals. Das nationale Ideal unseres Volkes und unseres Landes treibt uns einerseits, den moskowitischen Feind zu vernichten, um dadurch eine natürliche Reichsgrenze zu erhalten, die in sich alle unsere Volksgenossen einschließt und vereint. Andererseits treibt uns unser religiöses Empfinden, die mohammedanische Welt von der Herrschaft der Ungläubigen zu befreien und den Anhängern Mohammeds die Unabhängigkeit zu geben" (Tekin A L P 1 9 1 5 , 5 3 ) . 8 5 Der Ausbruch des Ersten Weltkrieges trieb die Krise im Osten Kleinasiens auf die Spitze. Sowohl Rußland als auch das Osmanische Reich warb um die Gunst der Armenier. Daß die Russen hieraus als Sieger hervorgehen würden, war von vornherein klar, denn sie schienen das Autonomie-Projekt für das Türkisch-Armenien uneingeschränkt zu unterstützen, während die Jungtürken diese Autonomie an ihren wesentlichen Punkten in Frage stellten. Bereits in der Phase der osmanischen Neutralität August-November 1914 wurde daher Tiflis, das wirtschaftlich-kulturelle Zentrum der Armenier Rußlands, "the site of pronounced anti-Turkish agitation" (HOVANNISIAN 1 9 6 7 , 4 2 ) . Der Katholikos von Etchmiadzin Kevork V. ersuchte den Vizekönig Voroncov-Daskov, die einmalige Gelegenheit auszunutzen, um die Armenier des Osmanischen Reiches zu befreien. Auf die Bitte VoroncovDaskovs hin stellten die Armenier einen Freiwilligenkorps, dessen Mitglieder mehrheitlich osmanische Staatsbürger waren, ja, eine der vier Abteilungen wurde von Garegin Pasdermadjian (Armen Garo), einem Abgeordneten des osmanischen Parlaments, geführt. Die Aufgaben dieser Verbände waren "to guide the Russian armies over the rugged terrain of the Plateau, and to fulfill the perilous assignments of the avant-garde ... [I]n October, the Armenian volunteers were already supplied

84

Text der Proklamation des 'Heiligen Krieges' in: LARCHER (1926), 45-47. Siehe femer BLHL (1975),

35-39. Für eine Sammlung von Materialien zum Zweck des Heiligen Krieges im Ersten Weltkrieg siehe HAGEN (1990). Siehe auch MÜLLER (1991). 85

Mit 'natürlicher Grenze' war wohl, wie KURAT vermutet, die Bergkette des Kaukasus gemeint. Vgl. KURAT ( 1 9 7 0 / 1 9 9 0 ) , 4 9 8 .

D i e historiographische Kontroverse über die Armenische Frage

and prepared to violate the boundaries of the Ottoman Empire" 1967, 44).86

241

(HOVANNISIAN

Wie kam der Beschluß zur Deportation zustande? Auch die jungtürkische Führung hatte allerdings gemäß dem deutschen Konzept der "Revolutionierung der islamischen Gebiete unserer Feinde" (Max Freiherr von Oppenheim) schon im Sommer 1914 die seit 1911 bestehende Sonderorganisation (Te§kilät-i Mahsusa) beauftragt, ein Revolutionskomitee für Kaukasien (Kafkasya ihtiläl Cemiyeti) zu gründen, mit dem Ziel, Aufstände hinter der Front vorzubereiten, um die Okkupation Transkaukasiens durch die osmanische Armee im Falle eines Krieges mit Rußland zu erleichtern.87 Offensichtlich wurden zu diesem Zweck neben kurdischen Stammeskämpfern und tscherkessischen und sonstigen Flüchtlingen auch einfache Kriminelle aus den Gefängnissen rekrutiert ( C E M I L 1977, 103; Ahmet R E F I K [ A L T I N A Y ] 1919, 22 ff.).88 Alle grenzüberschreitenden Operationen blieben jedoch erfolglos, während die Regierung seit der allgemeinen Mobilmachung im August zunehmend Probleme mit Armeniern im Innern hatte. So kam es Ende August 1914 zu einer Rebellion in Zeytun. Die Einwohner dieses Bergkantons im Taurus lehnten es ab, in der Armee zu dienen. Die Pforte schickte Truppen gegen die Aufständischen, und im September 1914 warnte das Kriegsministerium die einzelnen Kommandanturen in Anatolien, ein waches Auge auf die Armenier zu behalten ( S O N Y E L 1987a, 288 ff.).89 Beim Kriegsbeginn im November wurde deutlich, daß die armenischen Rekruten in den osmanischen Grenzbataillonen mit Armeniern über die Grenze kooperierten; auch die Fahnenflucht war jetzt eine verbreitete Erscheinung. (Die Armenier gingen einfach zur russischen Seite über, während die muslimischen Soldaten aufgrund der schlechten Verpflegung der Truppe flüchteten) ( A Y D E M I R 1972, 114-19). Unter diesen Bedingungen äußerte sich die Führung der IE. osmanischen Armee gegen eine Offensive im Osten (BAYUR 1952, Bd. HI, 353).90 Enver Pascha sah sich jedoch — auch aus Bündnissolidarität — gezwungen, die Offensive zu ergreifen, denn die Deutschen, die ihr Ziel, den Krieg durch einen Blitzsieg im Westen zu beenden, nach verlustreichen Schlachten in Flandern verfehlt hatten, 86

87

Der Autor weist darauf hin, daß Hovhannes wie Simon Vratzian, zwei Ministerpräsidenten der künftigen Republik Armenien, beide davor gewarnt hätten, "that the Ittihadist rulers of Turkey would utilize the existence of volunteers units ... to justify violent measures against the Turkish Armenians" (Ebd.). Über den Faktor Rußland in den Erwartungshaltung Berechnungen der politischen Führer der Armenier siehe auch BLOXHAM (2002). Siehe die Satzung des Komitees in: Cemil, 1977, 28-31. Zur Geschichte der Te§kilät-i Mahsusa, die im Ersten Weltkrieg neben dem Kaukasus vor allem in Ägypten und Indien zum Einsatz kam, vgl. Tunaya

(1989),

275-292;

femer

STODDARD ( 1 9 6 3 ) ;

Ku$guBA?i

(1997);

KELE?YILMAZ

BALCIOGLU ( 2 0 0 1 ) . Z u r ' R e v o l u t i o n i e r u n g ' der i s l a m i s c h e n V ö l k e r s i e h e FISCHER ( 1 9 7 7 ) ,

(1999); 109-131,

u n d BIHL ( 1 9 7 5 ) , B d . 1 , 4 0 - 4 7 . 88

Interessant ist das Engagement des kurdischstämmigen Islamisten Said NURS (1873-1960), eines der Führer der anti-jungtürkischen 'Gesellschaft für islamische Einheit' von 1909, der während des Weltkrieges in den Reihen der Te$kilät-i Mahsusa gekämpft hatte. Siehe MARDIN (1982), 65-79.

89

Über ähnliche Vorsichtsmaßnahmen in Erzurum siehe AKQAM (1999), 239. Über die äußerst ungünstige Versorgungslage der III. Armee siehe GUSE (1940), 8-22.

90

242

Fikret Adamr

blickten

hoffnungsvoll auf die Eröffnung einer Entlastungsfront im Kaukasus 1957, 112; Z Ü R C H E R 1996, 242-4). Er beauftragte sogar seinen Onkel Halil, mit einer Elitedivision über Iran nach Aserbaidschan vorzustoßen. Nach der 'Revolutionierung' der dortigen Muslime sollte Halil nach Norden in Richtung Daghestan vordringen, um die rückwärtigen Verbindungen des Gegners zu stören 91 ( A Y D E M I R 1972, 124-6). Die Offensive der ID. Armee selbst, die unter der Verantwortung Envers am 19.- 22. Dezember 1914 mitten im Winter stattfand, endete mit einer Katastrophe: Fast drei Viertel der eingesetzten Truppen starben an Kälte ( L A R C H E R 1926, 382-89; B A Y U R 1952, Bd. III, 366 ff.; A L L E N und M U R A T O F F 1953; 240-92). Die Russen konnten am 23. Dezember die Gegenoffensive eröffnen, mehrere osmanischen Distrikte gerieten bald unter deren Besatzung. Nach der Niederlage von Sankami§ häuften sich osmanische Mißerfolge: Im Januar 1915 endeten die Operationen in Iran mit einem Fiasko ( G E H R K E 1963, 4348). Im Februar mußte man die Expedition an den Suez-Kanal unverrichteter Dinge abbrechen ( L A R C H E R 1926, 250-56; V O N K R E S S E N S T E I N 1921).92 Im April schlug der osmanische Versuch, die bei Basra gelandeten und nach Norden, in Richtung Bagdad marschierenden Briten zurückzuwerfen, fehl.93 Zudem hatten die Flotten der Entente im Februar 1915 begonnen, die Verteidigungsanlagen der Dardanellen zu beschießen, während die jungtürkische Führung eine Landung der Entente am Golf von Alexandrette erwartete.94 Nachrichten über die Kontakte zwischen lokaler armenischer Bevölkerung in Kilikien und den Marine-Diensten der Entente (auf Zypern) oder zwischen den armenischen Aufständischen von Zeytun und dem Hauptquartier der russischen Kaukasusarmee trugen zur Vertiefung des Mißtrauens gegen die armenische Bevölkerung bei ( B L O X H A M 2002, 114-15; K A I S E R 2001c). Man glaubte, einer weitläufigen armenischen Verschwörung gegenüberzustehen. Der Kriegsminister erteilte Ende Februar die Weisung, die in den osmanischen Streitkräften dienenden Armenier zu entwaffnen, um sie in speziellen 'Arbeitsbataillonen' (amele taburu) zusammenzufassen.95 Vor allem die aufständische Bewegung im Gebiet von Musa Dagh (Dörtyol) und in Zeytun stellte eine Gefahr für die Etappenstraße (Bagdadbahn) der Armee in Syrien, weshalb besonders von deutscher Seite ein energisches Vorgehen gegen die Aufständischen gefordert wurde. Ein Militärgericht verfügte schließlich die Umsiedlung von über 200 Familien von Zeytun nach Konya - die erste Deportation des Jahres 1915 ( V O N R E I C H E N B E R G 2000, 11-15). (ERTÜRK

91

Aydemir, der an diesen Kämpfen persönlich teilnahm, wertet hier die 1967 veröffentlichten Memoiren Halil Paschas aus. Über die grandiosen Kriegspläne Envers aus dieser Zeit siehe auch BAYUR ( 1 9 5 2 ) , B d . 3, 2 5 5 - 3 6 6 .

92

93

Der Autor (Kress von Kressenstein) war als Chef des Generalstabes der IV. Armee in Syrien wesentlich an der Planung der Expedition an den Suez-Kanal beteiligt. Süleyman Askeri Bey, ein angesehener ehemaliger Chef der osmanischen Sonderorganisation (Te§kilät-i Mahsusä), der den Gegenangriff bei Basra kommandiert hatte, beging nach dem Mißerf o l g S e l b s t m o r d . LARCHER ( 1 9 2 6 ) , 3 2 7 . V g l . a u c h LÜHRS ( 1 9 3 6 ) , 2 2 - 3 9 .

94

Deutscher- wie osmanischerseits war man davon überzeugt, daß die Bombardierung der Dardanellen nur eine Manöver war, um von den bevorstehenden Landungen am Golf von Alexandrette abzulen-

95

Diese Weisung vom 27. Februar 1915 ist abgedruckt in: Askeri Tarih Belgeleri Dergisi 34/85 (1985),

ken. S i e h e TRUMPENER ( 1 9 6 8 ) , 8 1 - 8 7 . S. 2 1 - 2 4 . Ü b e r die Arbeitsbattalione s i e h e KEVORKIAN ( 1 9 9 5 ) u n d ZÜRCHER ( 2 0 0 2 ) .

Die historiographische Kontroverse über die Armenische Frage

243

In solch kritischer Zeit trafen Mitte April 1915 Nachrichten von einem armenischen Aufstand in Van ein (LARCHER 1926, 394; GUSE 1940, 61-62).

Ursachen und Verlauf dieses Aufstandes werden in der Literatur äußerst kontrovers diskutiert, zumal er zeitlich wie inhaltlich in einem unmittelbaren Zusammenhang mit dem Befehl zur Deportation der armenischen Bevölkerung steht bzw. zu stehen scheint.96 Festzuhalten ist, daß die Armenier die osmanische Garnison zur Räumung der Stadt zwingen konnten, um anschließend die Festung und die öffentlichen Gebäude zu zerstören (HOVANNISIAN 1967, 56, Amn. 80).97 Daher die außerordentliche Beunruhigung in der osmanischen Hauptstadt, in welcher geradezu 'Untergangspanik' herrschte (AK£AM 1996, 49-51). Die politische Führung der Armenier im Osmanischen Reich (der Patriarch, die armenische Nationalversammlung, die armenischen Abgeordneten im Osmanischen Parlament) war dabei über die sich zuspitzende Lage bestens orientiert.98 Erst kürzlich hatte Enver Pascha den Patriarchen schriftlich gebeten, seinen Einfluß auf die armenischen Nationalführer dahingehend geltend zu machen, daß man von einer allzu offenen Parteinahme für die Feinde des Reiches absah. Wie ein enger Mitarbeiter des Patriarchen festhielt, gab auch der bekannte armenische Politiker Krikor Zohrab dem Patriarchen den Rat, von jeglichen Demarchen in der nationalen Frage vorübergehend abzusehen, bis die Lage sich ein wenig beruhigt habe (KEVORKIAN 1995, 283). Die Angelegenheit wurde schließlich in der armenischen Nationalversammlung erörtert. Unter Mißachtung des Votums des Patriarchen entschied sich die Mehrheit dafür, den Ratschlag Envers zu ignorieren. Man wolle es nämlich vermeiden, die Ententemächte, deren Einzug in Konstantinopel bald zu erwarten sei, ungünstig zu stimmen.99 Am 24. April 1915, am Vorabend der Landung der Entente-Truppen an den Dardanellen, entschloß sich das jungtürkische Komitee zu durchgreifenden Maßnahmen gegen die politischen Organisationen der Armenier; etwa 235 Führer (Intellektuelle und Politiker) wurden verhaftet und nach Zentralanatolien (Aya§,

96

Der Aufstand in der ostanatolischen Stadt Van im April 1915 hatte, vor allem aus der Sicht der nationaltürkischen Geschichtsschreibung, entscheidende Bedeutung für den jungtürkischen Beschluß zur Deportation der gesamten armenischen Bevölkerung des Ostens. Siehe u.a. BAYUR (1952), Bd. 3, 3. BAYUR stützt sich auf die Erinnerungen von Ali îhsan SÂBIS (1990), Bd. 2 , 429-51; URAS (1976), 596-625; KURAT (1970/1990), 283-96; GÜRÜN (1983a), 196-204; SONYEL (1987a), 297. Aus armenischer bzw. armenophiler Sicht handelte es sich bei den Ereignissen von Van im Frühjahr 1915 nicht um einen Aufstand, sondern legitime Selbstverteidigung. Siehe MUKHITARIAN und GOSSOIAN (1916); ders. (1948/1949); WALKER (1980), 205-09; MINASSIAN (2000); Foss (2000). Für eine kritische Erörterung siehe BLOXHAM (2002), 111-119. 97 Dabei kam es auch zu Massakern an den Muslimen. Siehe BLOXHAM ( 2 0 0 2 ) , 1 1 9 . 98 Für einen vorzüglichen Überblick über die armenisch-jungtürkischen Beziehugen in dieser Phase siehe MINASSIAN ( 1 9 9 5 ) . 99 "Contre la volonté du patriarche, la Chambre [arménienne] refusa de prendre en compte cette lettre [d'Enver] afin de ne pas indisposer les Etats alliés, dont l'entrée à Constantinople était une question de jours ... Cette lettre d'Enver restera historique" (Ebd. 286).

244

Fikret Adamr

Rankin u.a.) verbannt.100 Daneben wies das Innenministerium die Umlenkung der Deportation von Zeytunis von dem ursprünglichen Zielort Konya nach Deir Zor in Syrien an (SÜSLÜ 1990, 106 ff.; Osmanh belgelerinde Ermeniler, 1994,23 ff.).101 Diese folgenschweren Beschlüsse markieren eine psychologische Wende zur Haltung eines Vabanquespielers hin. Angst davor, nach wiederholtem Verlust von Heimat (im Kaukasus oder auf dem Balkan) auch aus Anatolien vertrieben zu werden, war offensichtlich das zugrundeliegende Motiv.102 Viele betrachteten die Lösung der Armenischen Frage als eine lebenswichtige Angelegenheit der Nation. So glaubte Dr. Re§id, der Gouverneur von Diyarbakir, keine andere Wahl gehabt zu haben, als die armenische Volksgruppe in seiner Provinz irgendwie loszuwerden, da sonst die Armenier den Türken zuvorgekommen wären (MEHMETEFENDioGLU 1993, 61).103 Die Entwicklung in Van und Umgebung im Frühjahr 1915 war in dieser Hinsicht in der Tat deprimierend. Am 18. Mai wurde die Stadt von armenisch-russischen Streitkräften eingenommen. Aram Manukian, der Führer des armenischen Aufstands, fungierte nun als Gouverneur der ganzen Provinz. Wie H O V A N N I S I A N bemerkt: "Armenian political consciousness again was stimulated, for the promised reward, an autonomous Armenia under Russian protection, was within sight. Already native administration, militia, and police were established" (1967, 56). Im Juni wurde eine neue russische Offensive erwartet, und die armenische Legion "was entrusted with the task of expelling the Turks from the entire southern shore of the lake [Van] in preparation for a concerted Russian drive into the Bitlis vilayet" (ibid.). Am 12. Juni kam es zu einem Armenier-Aufstand weit hinter der Frontlinie in §ebinkarahisar (westlich von Gümü§hane); die Rebellen gaben erst am 3. Juli auf, als sie in der belagerten Festung dem Hungertod nahe waren (GUSE 1940, 63). Ob seine Entscheidung wirklich im Zusammenhang mit diesen Entwicklungen stand, sei dahingestellt, jedenfalls erteilte der Innenminister Talät Pascha am 23. Mai 1915 die Weisung, die Armenier Killkiens (Adana und Mara§) nach Syrien zu deportieren (Osmanli belgelerinde Ermeniler, 1994, 32-4). Ende Mai 1915 wurden das "Vorläufige Gesetz über die Schritte der Militärbehörden gegen staatsfeindliche Aktivitäten in Kriegszeiten" (Vakt-i Seferde icraat-i Hükümete Kar§i Gelenler Igin Cihet-i Askeriyece Ittihaz Olunacak Tedabir Hakkinda Kanun-i Muvakkat) und das Gesetz zur Regelung des "verlassenen Besitzes" deportierter 100

Die Gesamtzahl aller verhafteten Armenier in der osmanischen Hauptstadt betrug im Sommer 1915 offiziell 2345 Personen (bei einer armenischer Wohnbevölkerung in der Stadt von 80-100.000). Siehe URAS (1976), 612. Viele der Verhafteten kehrten nie zurück. Siehe SARYAN (1975); KAZARIAN

101

(1969), und KAZARIAN (1971). Unterschiedliche Angaben zum exakten Zeitpunkt des jungtürkischen Beschlusses ebenso wie zur Zahl der Verhafteten werden kritisch erörtert von KAISER (2001C). Die Regierung traf gleichzeitig Vorbereitungen, um die Hauptstadt kurzfristig zu evakuieren, da es nach militärischer Fachmeinung unmöglich war, die Besetzung der Dardanellen durch die Ententetruppen und die Durchfahrt der feindlichen Flotten nach Konstantinopel zu verhindern. Vgl. MÜHLMANN, 1940, 43. Zur möglichen Evakuierung der Hauptstadt siehe auch BEYATLI (1968), 3032.

102

"In this sense the genocide was a product of the reactive Muslim nationalism that motivated the

103

Für eine Biographie Dr. Refids siehe KIESER (2002).

Young Türks" (ZÜRCHER 2000,160).

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245

Personen (Ahar Mahallere Naklonulan E§hasin Emval, Düyün ve Matlubat-i Metrükesi Hakkinda Kanun-i Muvakkat) verabschiedet, beide eigentlich retroaktive Maßnahmen, die den bereits eingeleiteten Schritten einen Hauch der Legalität verleihen sollten ( B A Y U R 1952, 40, 45-6).104 Bis Ende 1915 wurden praktisch alle armenischen Gemeinden, ausgenommen Izmir, Istanbul und Aleppo, deportiert. "Die Behandlung der Deportierten unterwegs war unterschiedlich. In einigen Fällen versorgte man sie mit Lebensmitteln, häufiger aber überließ man sie dem Hungertod", wie Taner AK£AM zutreffend feststellt (1996, 71). Wiederholt kam es zu Massakern, an denen sich neben kurdischen Stämmen sogar Soldaten beteiligten, die zum Schutz der Deportierten abkommandiert worden waren. Die Zivilbevölkerung verhielt sich "von Gebiet zu Gebiet unterschiedlich. An einigen Orten schützte die Bevölkerung die Armenier, nahm sie auf oder versteckte sie, woanders hingegen mußten die Deportationskolonnen durch die Gendarmen vor den Angriffen der Bevölkerung geschützt werden" (Ebd., 72). Kinder und junge Frauen entgingen der Deportation manchmal dadurch, daß sie zum Islam konvertierten (HOVANNISIAN 1992; SARAFIAN 2001). Neben den politischen Gegnern des Komitees Einheit und Fortschritt, die in der (verbotenen) Partei 'Entente liberale' organisiert waren, äußerten sich auch bekannte Unionisten kritisch gegenüber der Armenier-Politik des Regimes. So protestierte Ahmed Riza im osmanischen Senat schon Ende Mai 1915 gegen das Gesetz zur Regelung des verlassenen Besitzes der Deportierten und erreichte es, daß diese Frage im Dezember desselben Jahres noch einmal Gegenstand parlamentarischer Diskussion wurde (BAYUR 1952, 46-9). Er ergriff offen Partei für den armenischen Senator Azaryan Efendi, als dieser die Politik der Regierung scharf angriff (Ahmet IZZET [Pa§a] 1992, Bd. 1, 201 ff.). Die couragierteste Kritik kam jedoch interessanterweise aus den Reihen turkistischer Intellektueller. Halide Edib hielt einen öffentlichen Vortrag im Türkistenverein Türk Ocagi, in welchem sie die armenischen Opfer der Deportationen beklagte; sie scheint jedenfalls als Führerin einer 'armenophilen' Gruppe fungiert zu haben, die aus Yusuf Ak?ura, Hamdullah Subhi, Dr. Adnan und Mehmed Emin bestand und offensichtlich dem jungtürkischen Komitee opponierte (ATAY 1981, 63-4; BEYATLI 1968, 34-5).105 Die osmanische Regierung sah sich schon im Krieg veranlaßt einzugestehen, daß Armenier mancherorts geplündert und sogar massakriert wurden. In seinen (allerdings nach Kriegsende im Exil) verfaßten Memoiren gibt Talät Pascha selbst zu, daß gewissenslose Figuren versucht hätten, die Situation zu ihren persönlichen Zwecken auszunutzen. So hätten sie auch viele Mordtaten begangen. Talät hebt dann hervor, daß seine Regierung durch verschiedene Kommissionen Vorwürfe habe regelmäßig untersuchen lassen, wobei auch Todesurteile gefällt worden seien {Talät Pa§a'nm hatiralari, 1958, 70). Erst recht gingen die Regierungen der Entente Liberale, die Opponenten des jungtürkischen Komitees, nach dem Ende

104 105

Der retroaktive Charakter dieser Gesetze wird betont von KAISER (2000). Über die Organisation und Funktion des Türkistenvereins Türk Ocagi siehe GEORGEON (1982); ders. ( 1 9 8 4 / 1 9 8 5 ) ; AKYÜZ ( 1 9 8 6 ) .

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des Krieges daran, die Frage nach der Verantwortung für die Deportationen zu klären.106 Wie bereits angedeutet, blieb jedoch diese 'Vergangenheitsbewältigung' mit dem Aufstieg Mustafa Kemals und dem Erfolg der von ihm angeführten Widerstandsbewegung auf halbem Wege stecken. Türkische bzw. turkophile Autoren fragen ohnehin, ob es dem Sondergericht tatsächlich um die Klärung der Kriegsverbrechen gegangen sei oder eher um die Befriedigung der politischen Bedürfnisse der nunmehr regierenden Gegner der Jungtürken. Dürften denn Historiker dem Urteil derart bestellter Tribunale überhaupt vertrauen?107 Dokumentation der Deportationen Die Glaubwürdigkeit der jeweils ausgewerteten historischen Quellen bildet eine Schlüsselfrage auch in der Forschung zur armenisch-türkischen Beziehungen. Bewußt oder unbewußt, urteilen jedoch viele Forscher in dieser Hinsicht eher selektiv. Armenische bzw. armenophile Autoren klagen einerseits, daß die türkische Regierung den Zugang zu den osmanischen Archiven erschwere bzw. einschlägige Bestände zurückhalte ( S A R A F I A N 1993, 1999a). Sie betrachten zeitgenössische westliche Darstellungen, die überwiegend aus der Feder protestantischer Missionare oder Personen im Dienste der Entente stammen, "als die primären Quellen des Genozids" ( S A R A F I A N 1993-1996; S A R A F I A N 1994; S A R A F I A N 1998; S A R A F I A N 1999a; M O R A N I A N 1992).108 Türkische oder turkophile Autoren tendieren dazu, Quellen westlicher Provenienz, insofern sie die armenische These unterstützen, als tendenziös, befangen oder gar als gefälscht abzuwerten ( S O N Y E L 2000). Vor diesem Hintergrund überrascht es nun kaum, daß eine der am häufigsten zitierten Editionen historischer Quellen, die zur Bekräftigung der Genozid-These herangezogen werden, nämlich die auf die Initiative von James Bryce (1838-1922) zurückgehende Aktensammlung, in türkischer Sicht als ein Machwerk zum Zweck der Kriegspropaganda erscheint; "based on Armenian sources and documents gathered together by Armenian supporters from second and third hand sources" ( Ö K E 1988, 106 ff.; M C C A R T H Y 2000, 15-28). Die Tatsache, daß James Bryce sowohl William Gladstone als auch dem American Board of Commissioners for

106

Siehe die unter Anm. 27 angegebene Literatur. 107 «[Tjjjg c o u r t s were convened by the unelected quisling government of Ferit Pasa who created the courts to curry favor with the Allies. The courts returned verdicts of guilty for all sorts of improbable offences, of which killing Armenians was only one. The courts chose anything, true or false, that would cast aspersion on Ferit's enemies. The accused could not represent themselves. Can the verdicts of such 'courts' be trusted?" Justin MCCARTHY'S Presentation auf dem Seminar on TurkishArmenian Relations, veranstaltet von Democratic Principles Association, Istanbul, 15 März 2001 (http://www.mfa.gov.tr/grupa/ad/adf/pres.by.prof. mccarthy.htm). 108

Hilmar Kaiser, der ebenfalls für eine stärkere Beachtung der Perspektive der Überlebenden bei der Rekonstruktion der Deportationsgeschichte ebenso wie bei neuen Konzeptionalisierungen plädiert, gehört zugleich zu den wenigen Forschem, die auch die osmanischen Archivalien adäquat berücksichtigen. Als eine sehr überzeugende Studie in dieser Hinsicht siehe seinen Beitrag, KAISER (2002a). Für weitere Dokumentation der Deportationen auf der Grundlage von Erinnerungen siehe KAISER (2001b); ferner KEVORKIAN (1998); KEVORKIAN und ANDONIAN (1998); ANDONIAN (1998).

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Foreign Missions nahestand, spielt in dieser Hinsicht sicherlich keine geringe Rolle, hatte doch Bryce die Armenier bereits 1877 mit folgenden Worten zum Aufstand gegen den osmanischen Staat angespornt: "Why ... do the Armenians not rise in rebellion against these outrages, as their forefathers did against the Seleucids or the Parthians? Partly because they are unarmed, partly because the population is thin, with Tatars, Kurds, and Ottomans scattered among them, but mainly because ages of slavery have broken the spirit of the nation, because there is no one to lead them, no means of combined action, no such prospect of sympathy or support from European powers" (BRYCE 1877, 2 4 4 , zit. in: SONYEL 1987a, 5 0 ) . 1 0 9 In den folgenden Jahrzehnten entwickelte sich James Bryce zum führenden Armenophilen im Westen. Dank seiner gehobenen Stellung im politischen Leben Englands — er war wiederholt Mitglied des Parlaments, Minister, und von 1907 bis 1913 Botschafter seines Landes in den USA — war er auch in der Lage, die Sache der osmanischen Armenier vielfältig zu fördern.110 Seit Kriegseintritt des Osmanischen Reiches auf Seiten der Zentralmächte im November 1914 war er daher in verschiedene Beratungen zwischen dem Foreign Office in London, Henry Morgenthau, dem US-Botschafter in Konstantinopel, und James L. Barton, dem Foreign Secretary des American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions in Boston einbezogen. Er hatte an einem damals gerade publizierten Werk über Armenien mitgewirkt (BRYCE, COPANEAN und GREGORY 1914). Als die jungtürkische Regierung im Frühjahr 1915 die Deportation der Armenier verfügte und die amerikanischen Missionare die anschließenden traurigen Ereignisse vielerorts aus nächster Nähe verfolgen konnten, versuchten sowohl James Bryce als auch James L. Barton zunächst, ihre Regierungen zu einer militärischen Intervention in Kleinasien zu überreden ( G R A B H I L L 1971,74-5). Daneben wurde in Boston unter dem Vorsitz James L. Bartons im September 1915 ein Armenian Relief Committee gebildet, um Spenden zur Finanzierung der außerordentlich intensivierten karitativen Aktivitäten in Kleinasien zu sammeln.111 In diesem Rahmen tauchte zwischen James L. Barton und James Bryce die Idee auf, durch eine schriftliche Dokumentation von Augenzeugenberichten mit noch größerer Effizienz für das Armenische Hilfswerk ebenso wie für die Sache der Armenier zu werben. Bartons Organisation übernahm die Aufgabe der Materialsammlung und auswahl, während James Bryce und der damals junge Berufshistoriker Arnold J. Toynbee als Herausgeber fungierten ( G R A B H I L L 1971, 75). Diese Dokumentation erregte großes Aufsehen in der öffentlichen Meinung Nordamerikas (TOYNBEE 1916).112 Weitere, auch pamphletartige Publikationen - so etwa wieder aus der Feder von James BRYCE und Arnold J. TOYNBEE - verfestigten das negative Image

109

Bryce war auch an der politischen Agitation in England zugunsten der Bulgaren im Jahre 1876 neben Gladstone an vorderster Linie beteiligt. Siehe SHANNON (1963/1975), 192. 110 Zu Leben und Werk von James BRYCE siehe FISHER (1927). 111 Das Armenian Relief Committee wurde im November 1915 in American Committee for Armenian and Syrian Relief (ACASR) umgetauft. Siehe BARTON (1930), 3-19. ' 12 Die unzensierte Neuausgabe besorgt und eingeleitet von SARAFIAN (2000).

248

Fikret Adanir

d e s ' u n s ä g l i c h e n T ü r k e n ' ( t h e unspeakable

Türk,

T h o m a s CARLYLE) z u s ä t z l i c h

(TOYNBEE u n d BRYCE 1 9 1 7 ; READ 1 9 4 1 ; KLOIAN 1 9 8 5 ) .

Die osmanische Regierung erachtete es nun ihrerseits für notwendig, geeignete Schritte zu unternehmen, um dem Eindruck, man sei dabei, das gesamte armenische Volk zu vernichten, entgegenzutreten. Das Ergebnis war eine Publikation des Innenministeriums im Jahre 1916, die Archivalien (darunter auch Fotographien) betreffend die armenische Revolutionsgeschichte bis zum Ersten Weltkrieg enthielt (CENGÍZ 1 9 8 3 ) . 1 1 3 Sie sollte belegen, daß die osmanische Regierung sich einer rebellischen, mit den Feinden des Reiches kollaborierenden Bewegung gegenübersah und gezwungen war, diese illoyalen Elemente, die im Krieg die rückwärtigen Verbindungen der Front gefährdeten, aus der Kampfzone zu entfernen. Vor allem sollte erreicht werden, daß die Weltöffentlichkeit nicht einer einseitig pro-armenischen Propaganda ausgesetzt blieb, sondern auch die osmanische Interpretation präsentiert bekam.114 Die osmanische Version der Geschichte wurde jedoch bald auch von der verbündeten, deutschen Seite her in Frage gestellt, und es kam zu ernsten Spannungen zwischen den Bündnispartnern. Die rücksichtslose Behandlung einer christlichen Minderheit durch den türkischen Verbündeten war für das christliche Deutschland nicht leicht zu ertragen. Vor allem aus Missionskreisen waren kritische Stimmen zu hören (KAMPEN 1 9 6 8 , 116; FEIGEL 1 9 8 9 , 2 1 0 - 2 9 ; SCHALLER 2 0 0 2 , 5 2 4 ) . Die deutsche Einstellung in dieser Frage wurde auch von der Entwicklung in der neutralen Schweiz beeinflußt. Dort gründeten Armenierfreunde, die bereits nach den Massakern von 1 8 9 4 - 1 8 9 6 Hilfsprogramme eingeleitet hatten, das Schweizerische Hilfswerk 1915 für Armenien. Diese Organisation hatte die Unterstützung weiter Kreise und konnte eine effektive Aufklärungs- und Propagandaarbeit leisten, so daß umfangreiche Sammlungen es bald erlaubten, Gelder nach dem Nahen Osten zu transferieren (MEYER 1 9 7 4 ; KIESER 2 0 0 0 ; KIESER 1 9 9 7 , 2 1 3 - 3 6 ) . Kirchliche Kreise in Deutschland versuchten daher nicht nur, die öffentliche Meinung und die deutsche Regierung auf die Lage der Armenier aufmerksam zu machen, sondern auch praktische Hilfe zu leisten. Der Deutsche Hilfsbund für christliches Liebeswerk im Orient widmete sich verstärkt dieser Sache. Dr. Johannes LEPSIUS, der schon 1896 eine Aufsatzsammlung unter dem Titel Armenien und Europa veröffentlicht hatte, tat sich in diesem Rahmen besonders hervor.115

113

Aspirations et agissements révolutionnaires des Armeniens (avant et après la proclamation de la Constitution ottomane), Constantinople, 1917. Außerdem gab es eine stark abgekürzte Ausg.: Ermeni komitelerinin âmâl ve harekât-i ihtilâliyyesi (Tesavir ve Vesaik), Albüm No. 1, 64 S, gedruckt in Türkisch, Deutsch, Englisch und Französisch. Für Zitate daraus siehe B A Y A R (1967), Bd. 5, Anhang. ' 14 Hilmar Kaiser weist darauf hin, daß die osmanische Regierung auf den Druck der deutschen Diplomatie hin zu dieser Publikationstätigkeit gezwungen wurde. Er impliziert sogar, daß die Deutschen zumindest bei der Publikation der Propagandabroschüre Väritä sur le mouvement rävolutionnaire armänien et les mesures gouvernementales, Constantinople 1916, eine gewisse Argumentationshilfe geleistet hätten. Siehe Kaiser, 2001d, und ders, (2002b). Fatma Müge GÔÇEK (2002b) betont jedoch daß die osmanische Argumention im Jahre 1916 fast wortwörtlich in einem älteren Text aus dem Jahre 1897 (Hüseyin Nazim [Pa§a] 1994) zu finden ist. 115 Zu Leben und Werk von LEPSIUS siehe auch GOLTZ ( 1 9 8 3 ) ; ders. und KORCHMAZJAN ( 1 9 8 5 ) .

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Demgegenüber blieb die Haltung der Reichsregierung letztlich von Bündnistreue bestimmt; man zog es vor, "zur armenischen Frage in der Öffentlichkeit am besten zu schweigen" ( F E I G E L 1989, 248). Die Niederlage im Weltkrieg machte jedoch die Entwicklungsperspektiven auf der Grundlage der deutsch-türkischen Zusammenarbeit im Orient zunichte. Vor allem linke Publizisten begannen nun, die Öffentlichkeit über die Sünden der Kriegsjahre aufzuklären, wobei eine kritische Würdigung des deutschen Türkei-Engagements, auch im Hinblick auf 'die Armeniergreuel', schwerlich ausbleiben konnte ( M Ü H S A M 1918; S C H W A R Z H A U P T 1919).116 (In der westlichen Öffentlichkeit wurde Deutschland damals bereits der Mitschuld an der Vertreibung der Armenier bezichtigt.117) Es paßte sich nun gut an, daß ein deutscher Schriftsteller, Armin T. Wegner, einen leidenschaftlichen Appell an den Präsidenten Wilson richtete, in dem er als 'Augenzeuge' das Schicksal der deportierten Armenier im Osmanischen Reich beklagte.118 Auch die Veröffentlichung im Jahre 1919 von Aktenstücken zur deutschen Haltung in der armenischen Frage ist in diesem Zusammenhang zu werten. Johannes Lepsius, evangelischer Theologe und international anerkannter armenophiler Publizist, der schon während des Krieges gegen die Politik der Pforte protestiert hatte, fungierte als Herausgeber ( L E P S I U S 1919a; L E P S I U S 1919b).119 L E P S I U S ' Versicherung, daß das von ihm herausgegebene Material authentisch reproduziert worden sei, traf zwar nicht ganz zu, wie die neuere Forschung herausgefunden hat.120 Doch seine Bemühungen wurden zumindest von der Presse neutraler Staaten gewürdigt, wenn auch der Hauptzweck der Aktenpublikation, "die Friedenskonferenz

116

117

Zur Behandlung türkischer Themen in der deutschen linken Presse siehe TUN^AY (1987; 1988a; 1988b). Vgl. auch ADANIR (1991), 195-211. Siehe insbesondere Morgenthau (1918), 374-75. Auch gegen dieses Werk (Neudruck hg. und eingel. v. Ära SARAFIAN, Ann ARBOR, MI, 2000) ist schon Parteilichkeit vorgeworfen worden. Siehe LOWRY (1990). Die These von einer deutschen Mittäterschaft an den armenischen Massakern ist bisher am stärksten v e r t r e t e n w o r d e n v o n DADRIAN ( 1 9 9 6 ) ; WALKER ( 1 9 8 0 ) , 2 3 1 - 2 3 6 ; OHANDJANIAN ( 1 9 8 9 ) ,

208-221; DINKEL (1991). Der türkische Historiker tlber ORTAYLI vertritt ebenfalls die Meinung, daß die Deportationen von 1915 auf deutsche Suggestionen zurückgingen: ORTAYLI (1983), 122 ff. Insgesamt wirft die neuere Forschung — bei aller Anerkennung eines beachtlichen Widerstands von Seiten deutscher ziviler Stellen gegen die Deportation von Armeniern - den deutschen militärischen Vertretern im Osmanischen Reich sowie der deutschen Obersten Heeresleitung eine gewisse 'Mittäterschaft' vor. Siehe die quellenmäßig gut fundierten Studien KAISER (1995); DADRIAN (1995); KAISER ( 1 9 9 6 ) ; KAISER ( 1 9 9 7 [ 1 9 9 9 ] ) ; f e m e r EBD, 3 7 - 5 3 ; d e r s . ( 1 9 9 8 ) ; d e r s . ( 1 9 9 9 ) . 118

'Ein Vermächtnis in der Wüste. Offener Brief an den Präsidenten der Vereinigten Staaten von Nordamerika, Woodrow Wilson, über die Austreibung des armenischen Volkes in die mesopotamische Wüste (1919)', in: WEGNER (1982), 66-72, und der Anhang 'The Impassioned

Appeal of German Writer Armin T. Wegner, an Eyewitness to the Genocide', in: DADRIAN (1996). Ü b e r WEGNER u n d A r m e n i e r s i e h e TAMCKE ( 1 9 9 6 ) ; TAMCKE ( 2 0 0 2 ) .

" ' W ä h r e n d des Krieges stand Lepsius in Kontakt mit den US-amerikanischen Missionaren in Kleinasien. Vgl. BARTON (1930), 43 ff. 120 "Aber Johannes LEPSIUS war nicht nur ein großer Freund der Armenier, er war auch ein großer deutscher Patriot. Bei der Herausgabe der Dokumente scheint ihn neben der Liebe zu den Armeniern in großem Maße auch die zu Deutschland geleitet zu haben in der Hoffnung, Unheil von Deutschland abzuwenden, indem er sein Vaterland im bestmöglichen Bild darstellte — ein Unterfangen, das ihn oft zu einem waghalsigen Spagat zwischen der Liebe zu Deutschland und der zu den Armeniern veranlaßte." (GUST 1998). Siehe auch SCHALLER (2002), 529 ff.

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in Paris in einem für Deutschland günstigen Sinn" zu beinflussen, nicht zu realisieren war (GUST 2002, 476). Quantifizierung der Opfer Ebenso bemerkenswert wie umstritten ist die Fixierung armenischer- wie türkischerseits auf die Zahl der Opfer des armenischen Völkermordes bzw. der Deportationen. Sie gewinnt ihren Sinn allenfalls vor dem geschilderten nationalgeschichtlichen Hintergrund, die jeweils angenommenen Zahlen dienen also primär zur Legitimation bzw. Infragestellung nationalstaatlicher Aspirationen. Türkischerseits hat Ahmed EMlN YALMAN recht früh betont, daß Schätzungen der armenischen Vorkriegsbevölkerung durch 'unparteiische Autoritäten' zwischen 1.300.000 and 1.500.000 Seelen variierten (Ahmet EMiN [YALMAN] 1930, 212 ff.). Später hat Nejat GÖYÜN? unter Hinweis darauf, daß in Kleinasien 1893 lediglich 676.013 Armenier (nach offizieller osmanischer Statistik) gelebt und diese Zahl sich bis 1914 erst auf 1.161.169 erhöht habe, den Schluß gezogen, daß man den Türken unmöglich den Mord an anderthalb Millionen Armeniern zur Last legen könne (GÖYÜN? 1983, 41). Ähnlich wie die ethnographischen Statistiken des 19. Jahrhunderts (z.B. in der makedonischen Frage) politisch instrumentalisiert wurden, entstand bald eine stellenweise pseudo-wissenschaftliche Polemik, die bis heute anhält.121 So unterstreicht ein armenischer Autor, daß die osmanischen offiziellen Jahrbücher (Salname) aus den 1860er Jahren von 3.150.000 Armeniern in Westarmenien berichteten. Demgegenüber sei es auffällig, daß diese Quellen aus dem letzten Viertel des Jahrhunderts versuchten, die Zahl der Armenier zu minimieren; sie sprächen jetzt nur noch von 700.000 Armeniern und bezeichneten außerdem Westarmenien als 'Kurdistan' (SARKISJAN 1972, 299). Kemal H. KARPATs Bemühungen, auf der Basis einschlägiger Archivalien ein relativ verläßliches Bild von den demographischen Verhältnissen im 19. Jahrhundert zu entwerfen, sind daher kaum gewürdigt worden (KARPAT 1983; KARPAT 1987; KARPAT 1985; SHAW 1978). Noch weniger

ist man jedoch bereit anzuerkennen, was Justin MCCARTHY auf diesem Gebiet geleistet hat: Er zeigt nämlich Möglichkeiten wie Grenzen des osmanischen Zensussystems auf, ohne die Verläßlichkeit osmanischer Zensusdaten grundsätzlich in Frage zu stellen, und weiß sich übrigens dabei auch mit Vital Cuinet, einem der besten Kenner der demographischen Verhältnisse Kleinasiens im 19. Jahrhundert, in Ü b e r e i n s t i m m u n g (MCCARTHY 1982; MCCARTHY 1983; MCCARTHY

1984;

MCCARTHY 1987; MCCARTHY 2001; KARAYAN 2000). 122 Im Gegensatz zu KARPAT, MCCARTHY und SHAW, die hauptsächlich mit offiziellen osmanischen

Quellen arbeiten wollen, betont man armenischerseits die Verläßlichkeit der vom armenischen Patriarchat von Konstantinopel erhobenen Daten (KEVORKIAN und PABOUDJIAN 1992,57-60).

Die geschilderte Sachlage reflektiert sich auch in dem relativ breiten Spektrum angenommener Opferzahlen sogar bei Autoren, die entschieden für die Genozid121

Zu Makedonien siehe WILKINSON (1951). Die Misere wird aus armenischer Sicht dargestellt von MARASHLIAN ( 1 9 9 1 ) .

122

In bezug auf die (eingeschränkte) Verläßlichkeit osmanischer Zensusdaten vgl. auch ZAMIR (1981).

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these eintreten. So ging Richard Hovannisian 1967 davon aus, daß "an estimated eight hundred thousand to over a million Armenians perished within a few months, and several hundred thousand more succumbed in the following years to the ravages of disease, famine, and refugee life" ( H O V A N N I S I A N 1967, 49). In einem von Hovannisian im Jahre 1986 herausgegeben Sammelband argumentiert Robert M E L S O N , daß zwischen 500.000 und 1.000.000 Menschen gestorben sein müssen, während ein anderer Beitrag in demselben Werk von anderthalb Millionen Getöteten spricht ( D E K M E J I A N 1986, 87; M E L S O N 1986, 66). Armenische 'offizielle' Daten vom Kriegsende bieten freilich ein anderes Bild: Die Vielschichtigkeit der Streitfrage wird bereits ersichtlich in einem Memorandum aus der Feder Boghos Nubar Paschas, des Präsidenten der Armenischen Nationalen Delegation in Paris, vom Juni 1917. Verlangt wird darin die Errichtung eines Nationalstaates bestehend aus den armenischen Territorien des Osmanischen Reiches, und zwar vom Kaukasus bis zum Mittelmeer, d.h. aus einem Gebiet, das neben den sechs östlichen Vilayets von Erzurum, Bitlis, Van, Diyarbakir, Mamuret-ül Aziz und Sivas auch ganz Kilikien einschließlich der Hafenstädte Mersin und iskenderun (Alexandrette) umfassen sollte. Zur Begründung dieses Anspruchs führte Boghos Nubar auch Argumente ins Feld, die für den Zeitgeist typisch waren: Vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg lebten 2.1 Millionen Armenier im Osmanischen Reich. Sie kontrollierten 60 Prozent des Einfuhrhandels, 40 Prozent der Exporte und über 80 Prozent des Binnenhandels. Man müsse diese 'ökonomische und moralische' Bedeutung des armenischen Elements berücksichtigen. Im übrigen habe die große Mehrheit der Armenier — Boghos Nubar sprach von anderthalb Millionen — trotz vieler Opfer die Katastrophe der Deportation überlebt.123 Ende 1918 allerdings machte Boghos Nubar in einer offiziellen Mitteilung an die französische Regierung wesentlich modifizierte Angaben: Die Zahl der armenischen Flüchtlinge im Kaukasus belief sich nach seinen Informationen auf 250.000; 40.000 wurden in Persien gezählt; etwa 80.000 befanden sich in Syrien und Palästina und ca. 20.000 in der Region Mosul-Bagdad — insgesamt warteten also rund 390.000 Armenier auf ihre Rückkehr nach Kleinasien. Er nahm aber an, daß sicherlich noch viel mehr Menschen die Deportationen überlebt hätten, wenn auch deren Aufenthaltsorte noch unbekannt seien. Was die Größenordnung der gesammten deportierten Bevölkerung betrifft, so gab Boghos Nubar als Bevollmächtigter der Armenier bei der Friedenskonferenz die Zahl von 6-700.000 an und implizierte damit, daß, abzüglich der oben genannten Zahl rückkehrbereiter Flüchtlinge, 210-310.000 Opfer zu beklagen waren.124 Mag sein, daß Boghos Nubar die Zahl der Opfer bewußt herunterspielte, um die demographische Basis 123

"Malgré le grand nombre des victimes des massacres et déportations, la majeure partie des Arméniens a pu s'échapper ou survivre à l'oeuvre d'extermination ... [0]n serait près de la vérité en estimant à 1.500.000 le nombre des survivants." Siehe "Aide-mémoire à propos de la question arménienne et de la libération de l'Arménie", A.M.A.E, GUERRE 1914-1918, Turquie, tome 889, ff. 20, in: BEYLERIAN (1983), 358-61.

124

Boghos Nubar Pacha, Président de la Délégation Arménienne, à M. Gout, Ministre Plénipotentiaire, Ministère des Affaires Etrangères de France, Paris, le 11 Décembre 1918, Archives des Affaires Etrangères de France, Série Levant, 1918-1929, Sous Série Armânie, Vol. 2, folio 47, in: ÇIMÇIR (1985), 55.

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des projizierten armenischen Staates möglichst stark erscheinen zu lassen. Außerordentlich wichtig erscheint aber im Kontext dieser Analyse sein Verweis auf das 'ökonomische und moralische' Gewicht des armenischen Elements, das er gegen die bloß numerische Überlegenheit der Muslime aufgerechnet sehen wollte. Muslimischer Widerstand gegen die Friedensregelung Die Legitimation panhellenistischer Aspirationen in bezug auf die historischen Landschaften Ionien im Westen und Pontos im Norden Kleinasiens, in denen die griechisch-orthodoxen Bevölkerungen jeweils Minderheiten darstellten, evoziert gewisse Züge des großarmenischen Projekts ( S M I T H 1973; Y E R A S I M O S 1988-89; 125 Y E R A S I M O S 1991; G O L O G L U 1973; Ö Z E L 1991). Wie Boghos Nubar und andere armenische Führer (etwa Karekin Pasdermadjian) setzten auch griechische Politiker auf die qualitative Überlegenheit ihrer Volksgruppe gegenüber einer als minderwertig erscheinenden muslimischen Mehrheit. In einem Brief König Konstantins vom Sommer 1921, des Oberbefehlshabers der hellenischen Armee unweit von Ankara, fand dieser Gedanke einen treffenden Ausdruck: "It is extraordinary how little civilized the Türks are ... It is high time they disappeared once more and went back into the interior of Asia whence they came" (Constantine of Greece, 1925, 191). Eine solche Denkweise erklärt weitgehend, warum es in Kleinasien kurz nach Kriegsende zu einer Widerstandsbewegung muslimischer Bevölkerung gegen die Friedensregelung kommen konnte. Denn diese versprach für die Muslime wenig Gutes. Die Siegermächte zeigten sich entschlossen, es nicht dabei zu belassen, daß nur die hauptverantwortlichen Kriegsverbrecher vor Gericht gestellt wurden, sondern vielmehr zu erwirken, daß die gesammte Nation geahndet wurde. Ihrer Meinung nach war die angemessene Form solch kollektiver Bestrafung nur die Zerschlagung der territorialen Einheit des Landes (AK£AM 2002). Der Widerstand gegen die drohende Aufteilung Anatoliens wiederum, der heute als der 'türkische Befreiungskampf' aufgefaßt wird, mußte unweigerlich zu einer Rehabilitation vieler Mitglieder der ehemaligen jungtürkischen Partei 'Einheit und Fortschritt' führen. Die entstehende Koalition 'nationaler Kräfte' brachte also Gruppen zusammen, die durch eine Teilung des Landes am meisten zu verlieren hatten: Offiziere, Notabein, Großgrundbesitzer, die Geistlichkeit sowie die Vertriebenen aus dem Balkan und dem Kaukasus. Nicht wenige aus diesen Kreisen hatten sich zudem in den Kriegsjahren den Besitz der Deportierten - Armenier wie Griechen angeeignet ( A V C I O G L U 1974, 1139-41). Eine derart heterogene Bewegung konnte sich schwerlich auf der Ebene von irgendwelchem Ethno-Nationalismus zusammenfinden. Schon die Beschlüsse des Kongresses von Sivas vom Anfang September 1919 schufen Klarheit in dieser Hinsicht: Die unterschiedlichen ethnischen Elemente der muslimischen Bevölkerung seien durch Gefühle des gegenseitigen Respekts und der Solidarität unzertrennlich miteinander verbunden. Was die nichtmuslimischen Staatsbürger betrifft, so hätten 125

Für einen ideologiekritischen Vergleich siehe Tsakiridou (2001).

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sie die gleichen Rechte und Pflichten wie die Muslime, ihr historisch gewachsener Sonderstatus sei aber abgeschafft (Í0DEMIR 1969; GOLOÖLU 1968-71, Bd. 2). Mustafa Kemal Pascha selbst betonte in einer Rede vor der gerade zusammengetretenen Nationalversammlung in Ankara im Jahre 1920, daß die politische Einheit des Landes, die herzustellen man entschlossen sei, eine alle ethnischen Elemente umfassende islamische Einheit sein werde (Atatürk'ün söylev ve demeçleri, 1961, 73 ff.). Die türkische Nationalbewegung hatte also in dieser Phase des Widerstands gegen den 'Diktatsfrieden' von Sèvres noch eine eindeutig islamistische Ideologie ( D U M O N T 1980-81). Zu einem säkularen Nationsbildungskonzept hat der Kemalismus in der Türkei erst nach dem Frieden von Lausanne (1923) geschwenkt. Vor allem die Abschaffung des Kalifats im Jahre 1924 bedeutete die Aufkündigung des universalistischen Islam als die Basis des Konsensus zwischen verschiedenen ethnischen Gruppen. Damit hängt nicht zuletzt die bereits 1925 radikalisierte und seither kaum gelöste kurdische Frage zusammen ( B R U I N E S S E N 1989, 379-434; O L S O N 1989; V A L I 1998). Perspektive der Verständigung heute Unter den geschilderten Bedingungen kam der Konstruktion eines spezifisch türkischen Geschichtsbildes, die in den 1930er Jahren von türkischen Historikern im Auftrag des Staates geleistet wurde, besondere Bedeutung zu; es ist für die Geschichtskultur des Landes im großen Ganzen bis heute bestimmend geblieben, und zwar mit höchst problematischen Folgen: Der Jugend wird ein Bild von der Vergangenheit eingeprägt, das sie als Nachkommen einer Generation zeigt, die die Katastrophen des Ersten Weltkrieges nur mit Mühe hat überleben können. Die Republik Türkei wird dabei emphatisch als Ergebnis eines anti-imperialistischen Kampfes dargestellt, im Verlauf dessen nichts geringeres als das Lebensrecht der Nation auf dem Spiel gestanden sei.126 Jede Konzession im Zusammenhang mit der Frage des Genozids an den Armeniern, aber auch jedes Eingestehen einer Schuld im Zusammenhang mit der Zwangsumsiedlung der Griechen Kleinasiens, berührt daher die Fundamente des türkischen Selbstverständnisses. 127 Fragt man nach einer Perspektive der Verständigung in den armenischtürkischen Beziehungen, so ist daher zu konstatieren, daß sich diese Beziehungen auch nach dem Ende des Ost-West-Konflikts eher kühl bleiben. Als Hauptproblem auf dem Wege einer Entspannung erweist sich — wie zu erwarten — die unterschiedliche Wahrnehmung der gemeinsamen Geschichte: Die Türkei verlangt als Vorleistung, daß Armenien auf den Genozid-Vorwurf verzichtet. Die Armenier, deren Identität — vor allem in der Diaspora — weitgehend durch Erinnerung an Verfolgung und Genozid geprägt ist, können wohl in dieser Frage nicht nachgeben. Unter der Präsidentschaft Levon Ter Petrosians zeigte sich die Republik Armenien zwar zunächst bereit, die Frage des Genozids von der Frage der diplomatischen 126 127

Siehe (COPEAUX 1997) und die unter Anm. 30 genannte Literatur. Für eine treffende Skizzierung der Schwierigkeiten in der Türkei, mit dem Begriff 'Genozid' umzugehen, siehe MAZOWER (2001). Die Geschichtsschreibung in der Türkei zum griechischtürkischen Bevölkerungsaustausch wird skizziert in ADANIR (2000).

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Beziehungen zu trennen. Die diesbezüglichen Versuche blieben jedoch infolge des Karabagh-Konflikts ohne Ergebnis. Ob der gegenwärtige Präsident Robert Kocharian bereit ist, auf die Anerkennung des Genozids als Vorbedingung einer Verbesserung der Beziehungen zu verzichten, bleibt fraglich.128 Doch gibt es auch Zeichen der Hoffnung. Einige Treffen armenischer und türkischer Historiker in jüngster Zeit haben gezeigt, daß obwohl die politische Zielvorstellung der Durchsetzung der Genozidakzeptanz bzw. deren Verhinderung bestehen bleibt, der essentialistische Grundton früherer Debatten im Abnehmen begriffen ist. So erteilten armenische und türkische Wissenschaftler, die in einem Workshop in Chicago im März 2 0 0 0 Aspekte der armenischen Frage diskutierten, einmütig eine Absage an die frühere Praxis von "taking a phenomenon out of the context of time, place, and circumstances and treating it as if its characteristics hold universally", and "looking at history as if nations have always existed and always commanded the primary loyalty of members of national groups". Man war sich darin einig, daß moderne Vorstellungen nicht unkritisch zurückprojiziert werden dürfen, daß nicht der Eindruck entsteht, Menschen hätten "always thought of themselves as Armenians and Turks, that these words have always meant the same things to people, and that people have had the same hostilities, loyalties, and motives across time" (LIMA 2 0 0 0 ) . Das Workshop von Ann Arbor im März 2 0 0 2 wurde nicht zuletzt aus dieser Einsicht heraus ausdrücklich unter die Überschrift 'Contextualizing the Armenian Experience in the Ottoman Empire' gestellt. Entspannung oder ein etwas gelassenerer Umgang mit der gemeinsamen Geschichte setzt sicherlich eine Absage an die sozialdarwinistischen Vorstellungen aus der Gründerzeit der Republik ebenso voraus wie die Überwindung einer immer noch verbreiteten Opfermentalität in der Türkei. Beispielsweise gilt es anzuerkennen, daß selbst Archivalien osmanisch-türkischer Provenienz durchaus genügen, einen eindeutigen politischen Willen zur ethnischen Homogenisierung zum Zwecke der Nationsbildung im späten Osmanischen Reich wie in der kemalistischen Republik zu belegen (KogAK 2003, 102, 256).129 Armenischerseits müßte die Obsession mit dem Erbringen des Nachweises eines in jeder Hinsicht holocaust-ähnlichen Schicksals der Armenier einer historisierenden Betrachtung weichen. Nur auf diesem Wege und in kleineren Schritten (zu denken wäre an Schulbuchrevisionen) könnte man zu einem historisch beleuchteten Erinnern zurückfinden.

128

Für vortreffliche Analysen türkisch-armenischer Beziehungen in den 1990er Jahren siehe LIBARIDIAN (2000), und LIBARIDIAN (2002). Für ähnliche Beiträge türkischerseits siehe AK^AM (2000); AK?AM (2001). 129 Weitere Literatur in ADANIR (2001b).

The Greek-Turkish population exchange PASCHALIS M . KITROMILIDES

The Convention of 30 January, 1923 On the 30th of January 1923, after prolonged negotiations that had begun on December 1, 1922, Greek and Turkish diplomatic plenipotentiaries signed a convention at Lausanne providing for the "compulsory exchange of Turkish nationals of the Greek Orthodox religion established in Turkish territory, and of Greek nationals of the Moslem religion established in Greek territory" (Article 1). Forced population movements had been a quite common phenomenon in human history, usually as a result of war, invasion and enemy raids upon settled territories. In the history of Asia Minor, in particular, massive population movements, either under duress in war-time or as a result of colonization, relocation or socio-economic change had been a standard feature for millennia. What was novel about the Lausanne Convention was the provision for compulsory exchange, without any form of prior consultation of the populations involved. This was unusual in that it wrote into an international document and thus enshrined in international law a practice which the law of war and peace, since its inception in the seventeenth century, had striven to bring under control and, if possible, eliminate: to prevent the dislocation of civilian populations and to protect, to the extent possible, non-combattants from the consequences of war. By adopting a document which stood in such glaring contrast to the course of international law, the signatories of the Lausanne Convention interpreted at the level of diplomacy a profound determination to remove the most serious cause of conflict between the two nations. That is probably why the Convention on the exchange of populations was agreed upon relatively early on, while the overall settlement of Greek-Turkish disputes at Lausanne turned out to be a protracted process, that was not concluded until July 24, 1923. The Lausanne Convention on the exchange of populations between Greece and Turkey introduced the novelty of the compulsory nature of the exchange, but as an approach to the settlement of disputes in Southeastern Europe, the convention had certain precedents during the previous decade. In 1913, after the Second Balkan War, Turkey and Bulgaria attempted a partial exchange of populations along their border in Thrace, while in 1919 Greece and Bulgaria had signed at Neuilly a convention on reciprocal emigration, which provided for the voluntary exchange of their respective minorities. In 1914 a limited and voluntary exchange of rural populations between Greece and Turkey was proposed by the Turkish Government through its minister in Athens and accepted by Venizelos, the Prime Minister of Greece. The eruption of the First World War, however, prevented the implementation of the exchange (PENTZOPOULOS 1962; PSOMIADES 1968). Thus the Lausanne Convention of 30 January 1923 represents the first instance of a

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compulsory exchange of population sanctioned by international law in modern history. On account of the delay in the ratification of the overall settlement, the January 30 Convention, which provided for the exchange to begin on May 1, 1923, could not come into effect until the following autumn. The first act of the drama was played out in the week of October 15-21 when the 8,000 Moslem inhabitants of the island of Lesbos were moved to Ayvalik in Asia Minor in exchange for 8000 Greeks from Samsun on the Black Sea coast of Turkey (CHARTER 1925). The exchange continued under international supervision over the next several months until well into 1925, when the last Orthodox communities from Eastern Cappadocia, deep in the interior of Asia Minor, were deported from their villages. This of course was the last, and relatively most orderly, act of the drama of forced migration brought about by a decade of war, which started with the First Balkan War in October 1912, continued with the First World War, the Greek landing and campaign in Asia Minor in 1919-1922, and the Turkish counter-offensive and final victory in 1921-1922. The wars created an enormous dislocation of people and caused a staggering refugee problem that was estimated by independent contemporary observers to have involved up to three million people (CHARTER 1925). The Lausanne Convention provided that all people, Christians and Moslems, who had become refugees since October 18, 1912, when the First Balkan War was declared, and were originally inhabitants of regions whose populations were subject to the exchange, were considered as exchangeables (Article 3). Only two groups were excluded from the exchange: the Greek inhabitants of Constantinople who were permanently established (etablis) in the prefecture of the City of Constantinople (including the Asiatic shore of the Bosporus and the Princes, Islands in the Sea of Marmara) prior to October 30, 1918 and the Moslem inhabitants of Western Thrace (Article 2). To these two populations, which were excluded from the exchange, the subsequently signed Treaty of Lausanne added the population of the two Greek-inhabited and Greek-speaking islands Imbros (Imbroz) and Tenedos (Bozcaada), which were returned to Turkish sovereignty under a special regime of self-administration (Article 14 of the Treaty of Lausanne). The net result of the exchange was to produce, essentially for the first time in history, an almost entirely Moslem and to a considerable degree, though not entirely, ethnically homogeneous Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace as the Turkish national homeland. To appreciate the degree of the social and ethnological change brought about by the application of the Lausanne Convention of January 30, 1923 it is necessary to briefly survey the ethnological background in Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace prior to 1923. The ethnological background in Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace The ethnically Turkish territories of Eastern Thrace and Asia Minor which make up the republican nation-state of modern Turkey are a twentieth-century

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phenomenon, the product of the application of the Lausanne Convention of January 30, 1923. This fact alone makes the exchange of populations of the 1920s a major milestone in the history of Turkish society. Before the 1920s the ethnological, demographic and social picture was very different. The population of Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace was made up of a complex mixture of races, ethnic groups and religious communities. This demographic picture mirrored quite accurately the imperial history of these regions, which for two millennia had formed the heartlands of great multi-ethnic empires. Eastern Thrace, outside the great imperial city of Constantinople, had up to 1922 a Christian majority in its population. Coastal regions along the Dardanelles, the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea up to about the city of Burgas (Pyrgos) in modern Bulgaria were primarily inhabited by Greek-speaking Christian Orthodox communities. The territory of the interior of Eastern Thrace was inhabited by compact rural Orthodox communities, mostly Greek-speaking but also Bulgarianspeaking toward the North and the Northwest. Greek and Bulgarian speakers made up two-thirds of the population of the region. Moslem Turks and smaller communities of Jews and Armenians were concentrated in the larger cities, especially Adrianople (Edirne). Literary evidence of the late nineteenth century shows a remarkable pattern of interaction between Christians and Moslems in the Thracian countryside, which was not disturbed until the Balkan Wars, when the region was temporarily occupied by Bulgaria. The demographic and ethnological picture was even more complex in the vast geographical space of Asia Minor, where remarkable variation existed not only along and across ethnic demarcation lines but also within the religiously defined ethnic communities themselves. Greek settlement in Asia Minor prior to 1922 was composed of three geographically based ethnographic entities, clearly distinguishable from each other on the basis of sociological, cultural and linguistic characteristics. The first ethnographic unit was made up of the compact Greek settlements in Western and North Western Asia Minor, along the coast of the Sea of Marmara and the Aegean, extending inland along the riverine valleys of the region. The Centre for Asia Minor Studies has managed to identify 401 Christian Orthodox settlements in this area prior to 1922. The Greek population of Western Asia Minor was for the most part the product of migrations from the Aegean islands and continental Greece since the eighteenth century. The advent of an independent Greek Kingdom after 1830 and the emergence of international borders in the Aegean for the first time since 1718 did not create serious obstacles to migration which continued throughout the nineteenth century with people moving back and forth between the Ottoman Empire and Greece. The unity of Aegean society in this period was reflected in the use of common Modern Greek as the lingua franca of the regions around the Aegean basin and as the exclusive linguistic medium of the Orthodox populations in Western Asia Minor. Local variations in the Greek language of Western Asia Minor (North, Central and South) were akin to the idioms spoken in the Greek islands of the Eastern Aegean, especially Lesbos, Samos and Rhodes.

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A second ethnographic unit of the Greek Orthodox population of Asia Minor was composed of the communities of the interior, which formed Christian islands in the midst of the Moslem population masses in the regions enclosed by the great rivers to the east of the valleys of the Hermus and the Meander, to the south of the Kizilirmak and the Sakarya, to the west of the region of the sources of the Tigris and the Euphrates. The 168 Orthodox communities of Central and Southern Asia Minor, in contrast to those in the West, constituted a meagre numerical presence, which represented a lingering survival of the Medieval Byzantine Christian population of the region. Continuity with the Byzantine past was reflected especially in the peculiar, highly idiomatic dialects of Greek spoken in thirty two out of eighty one Orthodox villages in Cappadocia, in the township of Silli outside Konya and in the townships of Makri and Livisi on the Lycian coast (DAWKINS 1916). The rest of the Christian Orthodox population of Central and Southern Anatolia spoke Turkish, except for Arabic- and Syriac-speaking Orthodox and Monophysite Christians in the Southeast. The Turkish-speaking Christian Orthodox population of the interior of Anatolia, known as the Karamanli, formed a uniquely interesting and important cultural group. Their ethnological origin has been repeatedly contested in scholarly literature: they are claimed by Greek historiography as Greeks who were linguistically Turkified under the pressure of the conquest, to which Turkish historiography replies that the Karamanli were in fact Turks who had espoused the Christian faith (B ARK AN 1953, 9). As it is usually the case the truth could probably be closer to some intermediate position, which could suggest that this diverse and wide-spread population probably descended from both types of ethnic background. In any case the continuing transition from local idioms of Greek to Turkish in Cappadocia, noted by Dawkins in the early twentieth century (DAWKINS 1916), probably supplies evidence of the dynamics of a much more protracted process going deeply into the past. In the century or so before their uprooting in 1924-1925 the Karamanli groups of Asia Minor were experiencing the effects of remarkable economic and cultural change, which instead of levelling, cemented their distinctive identity and enhanced their historical awareness of their local Byzantine heritage (KITROMILIDES 1998). The growth of a secular Karamanli literature (books in Turkish printed in Greek characters) in the course of the nineteenth century provided in several instances the initial conduit for contact of Turkish culture with Western ideas and sensibilities (TlETZE 1991). Finally a third area of Greek settlement in Asia Minor that formed a distinct ethnographic unit was that of the Pontic coastal and highland regions. In this area along the Black sea coast and deep into its hinterland, extending to the Southeast toward the sources of the Tigris and the Euphrates, an exceptional Greek Orthodox society had survived as the direct descendant of the Medieval Pontic Empire of the Grand Komneni of Trebizond, the last Byzantine state to fall to the Turks in 1461. Defined by its highly peculiar form of speech, which under different political circumstances might have naturally evolved into a separate NeoGreek language parallel to common Modern Greek, this was a rural, tightly knit and inward-looking society, which had preserved intact many extraordinary

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features of an ancient culture (BRYER 1980). Pontic Greeks formed the denser and geographically the most extensive component of the Greek Orthodox presence in Asia Minor, dispersed in almost 1500 communes (27 in Paphlagonia, 1454 in Pontos proper, 4 in the region of the sources of the Tigris and the Euphrates), townships and cities such as Trebizond, Samsun, Sinope, Amasya, Gumii§hane etc. These Orthodox communities dispersed throughout Asia Minor from the Aegean coast to the depths of Kurdistan and the borders of Armenia and beyond, primarily Greek-speaking and Turkish-speaking but also on occasion Armenian, Bulgarian, Arabic, Syriac, and even Kurdish-speaking, were held together as a cohesive society by their Church, the Patriarchate of Constantinople and to the South East the Patriarchate of Antioch, based in Damascus. The Church, through an expanding network of local dioceses, provided for the spiritual and educational and even the welfare needs of the faithful and thus kept them within the fold, despite extensive religious syncretism at the grass-roots (HASLUCK 1929).The Orthodox communities lived side by side with the Moslem Turkish majority, other Christian communities, especially Franco-Levantines in the coastal cities, Armenians in the major cities and in the rural areas of the East, and smaller Christian communities belonging to ancient Near Eastern Churches like the SyroChaldeans, Nestorians and Jacobites in the deeper interior and the Southeast of Anatolia. Jews of course were to be found everywhere in urban settlements and Moslem groups distinguished by their language such as Lazes, Kurds and Arabs completed the ethnological mosaic of Asia Minor at the dawn of the twentieth century. The Moslem population of Anatolia was made up of Sunnis, who formed the majority, and a sizeable Alevi community. This religious division of the Moslem population cut across linguistic groups and was spread throughout the peninsula, without a distinct regional basis. These different groups, religions, languages and communities, colourful human collectivities of infinite variety and rich cultural expression had been accommodated by the institutions of the imperial state and had managed to survive imperial repression and their own conflicts, working out forms of coexistence in daily life, constantly redefining but also preserving the essentials of identity. Such was the ethnological and cultural background that had met the test of centuries and was to be obliterated within three or four decades by nationalism, war and modern power politics. The logic of this new configuration of historical forces was encompassed in a skeletal form in the Convention on the population exchange. Forms of exodus In the tradition of Western political thought that goes back to the Bible, the idea of exodus evokes the prospect of redemption by means of return to the homeland, a land of promise and freedom. This biblical evocation of redemption was distorted by the same logic of power politics that could germinate the concept of the compulsory exchange of populations and was turned into the experience of forcible expulsion and exile. As such it was acted out as a classical Greek tragedy,

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only with modern Christian and Moslem protagonists on the plains of Eastern Thrace, Western Macedonia and Epirus, on the Pontic littoral and highlands, in the troglodyte culture of Cappadocia, in Crete and the Eastern Aegean Islands. The respective Moslem and Greek Orthodox minorities of these areas were the recipients of the directives of the International Mixed Commission set up by the Lausanne Convention to enforce and supervise the exchange (Articles 11-14). It will be noted that from the above geographical list of places affected by the exchange the regions of Northwestern and Western Asia Minor are omitted. The reason is that when the Convention was signed and the Exchange Commission formed, in these regions of compact and flourishing Greek settlement, including its metropolis 'giaur' Izmir, the cosmopolitan Smyrna of old, most of the Greek presence had been wiped out by ten years of war, persecution, deportation, flight into voluntary exile and massacres. The fire and destruction of Smyrna in September 1922 represented the bloody dénouement of the tragedy. An extensive collection of eye-witness accounts has been collected by the Centre for Asia Minor Studies (1980; see also HOUSEPIAN 1988). The hundreds of thousands of those who had fled the region since 1912, culminating with the exodus of those who managed to escape to foreign vessels in the port of Smyrna in September 1922, came under the category of exchangeables (Article 3 of the Lausanne Convention). Exodus took different forms elsewhere. In a way the form of exodus was linked to the different patterns of Greek settlement. The Orthodox, mostly Turkishspeaking, of Central and Southern Asia Minor totalling to over 200,000 and the approximately 450,000 Moslems, mostly Greek-speaking, of Western Macedonia, Epirus, Crete, Chios and Lesbos were exchanged under the supervision of the International Mixed Commission from October 1923 to 1925, carrying with them their movable property, occasionally their herds and domestic animals, their community records, holy relics and icons (Centre for Asia Minor Studies 1982 and 1992). Some villages were collectively resettled, starting life in their new environment as a community. This practice was followed more consistently in Greece than in Turkey, where communities for the most part were scattered all over the country to fill the enormous demographic vacuum. In the Pontic regions the exodus took a still different form. The coastal regions and port cities were evacuated more or less under conditions similar to those of Central and Southern Asia Minor. In the highlands, however, where a tradition of resistance to authority had lingered on since Medieval times, groups of Pontic fighters took up arms and attempted to protect their communities from being uprooted from their ancestral hearths. This became the famous Pontic rebellion in the Eastern highlands, a movement of desperate protest that ended up not in capitulation to the International exchange commission but in exodus of the communities led by the fighters toward the Caucasus, where they hoped they could await their return. Thus only about 200,000 of the compact Pontic Greek population were exchanged and reached Greece. They were resettled mostly in areas vacated by exchangeable Moslems in Western Macedonia and in suburban areas.

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Finally in Eastern Thrace, the presence of Greek forces which had not suffered defeat like their counter-parts in Asia Minor, made possible the peaceful evacuation of the Greek population in October 1922. Shielded by the Greek army before its withdrawal to the river Evros (Maritza), the Thracian Greeks, mounted on their oxen-drawn carts or on foot, kept crossing the river for weeks, uprooting themselves into exile. This epic of silent grief was described by Ernest Hemingway in his reports in the Toronto Star in the autumn of 1922 (HEMINGWAY 1968). The impression made upon him by this «silent, ghastly procession» haunted him for a long time and it often reemerges in his writing of the interwar period (HEMINGWAY 1939). Thus when the Lausanne Convention was signed Eastern Thrace had already been evacuated from its Greek inhabitants, whose number exceeded a quarter million. Grim numbers The numerical magnitudes involved in the massive population movements described above have formed the object of endless controversies. The statistics put forward in order to bolster territorial claims during the negotiations of treaties in the period 1912-1919 are notoriously unreliable. It is pointless in my opinion to engage in polemics aiming to deny the truthfulness of particular sets of quantitative data. Given statistical methods at the time and the context of their application we can be certain that we will never arrive at precise quantitative information on population data. We have to live with approximations and the task of historical analysis ought to be to appraise the reliability of individual sources of statistical evidence and to judge whether the quality of such evidence warrants taking the numbers seriously. According to these criteria the only reliable sources would appear to be the 1928 official census of the refugee population of Greece, the statistical information recorded by the Refugee Settlement Commission as reported by its chairman C. B. Eddy and whatever numbers on the refugee population of Turkey were collected by the State Statistical Institute in 1930 (LADAS 1932; EDDY 1931; PETROPULOS 1976). The evidence of these sources, however, does not provide an adequate basis for a precise estimation of the number of Greeks living in Asia Minor in 1912. This is the critical number because it would have provided the precise demographic picture before the decade of conflict and upheaval set in, bringing massive displacements and death upon this group of people. Given the state of the sources it is probable that this number will never be known with certainty. Two other important numbers, on the contrary, can be known with considerable certainty on the basis of available evidence. One is the number of the Greek population of Eastern Thrace. Considering that a significant part of the Bulgarian population of the area had already been exchanged in 1913 and that the Greek population had been enabled to leave the area under the protection of the Greek army in 1922, the number of 256,635 recorded in the Greek census of 1928 can be safely accepted as a very close approximation of the Greek population of the area at the time of the

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exchange. A similarly safe number is that of the exchangeable Moslem population of Greece as recorded by C. B. Eddy as up to 354.647. Information collected by the State Statistical Institute of Turkey slightly raises this number to 384.000, which made up 61% of the total refugee population of the country in the period 1923-1933 (KAZGAN 1970-1971). The numbers for Asia Minor will never be known with equal certainty. The Greek census of 1928 recorded a number of 626.954 for Asia Minor (including 35.000 Armenians) and recorded a separate number of 182.169 for Pontos. This totals up to 809.123 persons, which leaves a glaring gap when compared to the number 1.547.952 persons of Orthodox faith living in Asia Minor (including Pontos) in 1912 according to a census taken by the Patriarchate of Constantinople, which has recently come to light (KITROMILIDES ALEXANDRES 1985). Allowing for natural mortality and reemigration from Greece between 1922 and 1928 (estimated at 75.000 and 66.000 respectively) and taking into account an estimated number of about 80.000 Pontic Greeks who went to Southern Russia and the Caucasus, we are faced with a macabre discrepancy between the numbers of the 1928 census and those of the ecclesiastical census of 1912. This was the human cost of the tragedy, which the Lausanne Convention was designed to prevent from being extracted again. Relocations 'Relocation' and 'resettlement' sound quite mild and neutral terms when they are used to describe the massive upheaval brought into the lives of individual families and communities by the process of uprooting and deportation involved in the exchange of populations. The population groups that survived the actual movement in space that led them into permanent exile sought to create a new homeland amidst novel, strange and often inimical environments. In Greece, in particular, the influx of the refugee population in the wake of a humiliating military disaster, brought enormous strain upon state and society and provoked, on many occasions, open hostility on the part of local populations. The refugees were initially housed in public buildings, schools, theatres, military barracks and camps. New spaces were opened up for resettlement around Athens, Thessaloniki and other major cities, whereas refugees from rural areas in Asia Minor were settled in rural areas mostly in Northern Greece. In these projects Greece received considerable help from the League of Nations and under the guidance of an international Refugee Settlement Commission, after the initial shock and desperation, managed effectively to absorb and integrate the refugee population. Whole new areas to the East of Athens on the southern slopes of Mount Hymettus were opened up for the settlement of refugees. The same process went on in the areas to the West of Pireus and around Thessaloniki. Gradually whole new cities made their appearance out of the original makeshift refugee settlements, recalling the names of the original cities of provenance in Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace in the new geographical nomenclature employing the epithet New before the names of settlements — New Smyrna being the most prominent, but also New Ionia, New Philadelphia, New Chalcedon in the Athens area, New Krini (Qe§me) in

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Thessaloniki, New Halikarnassus in Crete to give only a few examples. Refugees from rural areas were given agricultural plots mostly from nationalized church lands and monastic estates, which were used to supplement the insufficient properties left behind by the much fewer Greek Moslems who took the road to exile in the opposite direction. A guiding principle generally followed in resettling the refugee population in Greece involved the preservation of communal groups as much as possible. Thus whole villages or urban population groups were resettled collectively in new localities, usually renamed after the original place of provenance. In their new localities the communities attempted to recreate their traditions by rebuilding their churches, which were rededicated to their original patron saints. Very often, especially refugee groups from the interior of Asia Minor deposited in these new churches icons and holy relics that they had carried with them. The resettlement of integral communities made possible the preservation of either Turkish or regional dialects like Pontic as the language of refugee groups for at least one generation. Thus Turkish-speaking Karamanli groups were settled in Northern Greece in the region of Serres and also in scattered villages in Thessaly. Pontic speakers were established in Western Macedonia, where, on Mount Vermion, they eventually also recreated their Medieval imperial shrine, Sumela Monastery. Also Pontic groups were settled in the Eastern suburbs of Athens and in Thessaloniki (e.g. Stavroupolis and Kalamaria). Thus a whole culture, with its distinctive music, dances and other forms of symbolic expression, was transplanted from Asia Minor to Greece and, in a curious way, at a time when the two nations appeared to be cutting the ethnic bridges between them, an important component of Asia Minor society and culture was being incorporated at all levels of collective experience into the formation of twentieth-century Greece. Resettlement followed different patterns and principles in Turkey. There the vastness of available geographical space after the deportation of the Orthodox population and the relatively smaller number of incoming Moslem refugees (by all accounts fewer than 400,000), made resettlement a lesser strain on the society at large, although equally painful at the level of individual feelings. Uprooting and exile, even 'exile to the homeland' as a refugee woman put it, still remains a tragic experience. The refugee population of Turkey was mostly resettled on the basis of their agricultural skills. As it turned out, the Moslem population of Greece were almost entirely rural, with the exception of small groups from Thessaloniki, Ioannina, Iraklio and the lesser cities in Macedonia and Crete. Thus planning the resettlement of the refugee population in Turkey was based on a categorization according to specialization in forms of agricultural production as follows: out of an estimated total of up to 395,000 according to one account, 95,000 were classed as tobacco producers, 200,000 were classed as peasant vine-growers and 100,000 were classed as olive-oil producers. These groups were dispersed as individual families, not as communities, in areas of Turkey where there was availability of cultivated land appropriate for their agricultural skills. Thus thirty thousand tobacco growers from Eastern Macedonia {Drama and Kavalla) were settled in the Samsun region. Twenty thousand tobacco growers, fifteen thousand peasants and

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vine-growers and five thousand olive-oil producers from the region of Serres were relocated in the Adana region; 2 2 , 5 0 0 persons of all three categories from Western Macedonia (Kozani and Grevena) were established in Malatya; forty-three thousand people of all three categories from the areas of Katerini and Langada in the regions of Amasya, Tokat and Sivas; sixty-four thousand people of all three groups from Eastern Macedonia and the region of Thessaloniki were relocated in the Manisa, Izmir and Denizli areas; ninety thousand refugees of all three groups from Kassandra and Nevrokopi in Macedonia were settled in Tekirdag in the Redesto region in Eastern Thrace and in Nigde in Cappadocia; fifty-five thousand refugees of all three groups from Preveza and Ioannina in the regions of Antalya and Silifke and the remaining fifty thousand, again made up of all three agricultural groups with provenance from the islands, especially Crete and Mytilini, were established in the regions of Ayvalik, Edremit and Mersin. Of all these groups of Moslem refugees the one that preserved its Greek language and passed it on to the following generation were the 'Turco-Cretans', who settled in Ayvalik. Members of this group and their descendants preserved the memory of their Cretan roots and occasionally attempted to reestablish ties with their places of origin in Crete. 'Ethnic cleansing' or nation building? Scholarly debate on the Lausanne Convention and the exchange of minorities has up to now focused primarily around two main issues. First at the initial period after the ratification of the Convention and the Treaty of Lausanne there was considerable debate especially from the point of view of international law on the nature of the convention, pointing to the inhuman aspects of the policy of compulsory exchange (KLOSSEOGLOU 1926; SEFERIADES 1 9 2 8 ; THEOTOKAS 1947). As a method of achieving the settlement of international disputes, the exchange of populations has been severely and justly criticized on account of the human costs and suffering involved (MACARTNEY 1 9 3 4 ; MLTRANY 1 9 3 6 ) and on account of its moral repulsiveness from the point of view of a philosophy of human rights (CLAUDE 1955). A second issue of historiographical controversy in connection with the exchange of populations concerned the precise quantitative magnitudes of the groups involved, especially population groups affected by the conflicts in Asia Minor, Greeks, Armenians and Turks. It is obvious that it would be desirable to arrive at precise numerical information in order to appraise the scale of the tragedy and the concomitant demographic change, but, as it has been explained above, it is very difficult to arrive at definitive conclusions on the basis of available evidence. Hence the contradictory positions on these issues, especially in connection with the estimation of the number of victims of the catastrophic years 1 9 1 4 - 1 9 2 2 . The scale of the refugee problem that resulted from the exchange has formed the object of a remarkable literature focusing on Greece (MlTRANY 1 9 3 6 ; ANDREADES 1 9 2 8 ; MARAVELAKIS-VAKALOPOULOS 1955). This literature, initially the work of historians and demographers, has been enriched by important

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contributions by political scientists and anthropologists (MAVROGORDATOS 1983; HlRSCHON 1989). Thus the historiography of refugee resettlement in Greece is a growing field of research, whose importance has been enhanced from the point of view of comparative social research on account of the urgent need to study the serious refugee problems in the contemporary world. Greece's experience in absorbing the Asia Minor refugee population despite the pain and the agonies of the 1920s, appears in retrospect as a success story and therefore it is judged to be of relevance in approaching other cases of refugee experience (PETROPULOS 1976). The social and cultural background of Asia Minor refugees and their integration into Greek society has formed the object of a gigantic privately organized research project which commenced in 1930 on the initiative of Melpo Merlier and has produced the important research resources of the Centre for Asia Minor Studies (oral history archive, music collection, refugee memoirs collection, printed materials, photographic archive etc.). The Moslem population of Greece that migrated to Turkey in the context of the exchange has not formed the object of similar research and filling this gap in the social history of Turkey would be highly desirable (MlTRANY 1936). Evidence about this population of Greek Moslems and their reaction to the exchange which forced them to become Turks overnight, is scattered in Greek primary sources and deserves to be collected and studied (NlKOLAIDIS 1993, 156-158).

The study of the refugee experience in Greece was initially premised on the idea that the exchange was an unmitigated disaster, the greatest catastrophe in the history of the Greek nation. The consideration of the actual consequences of the exchange in the long run, nevertheless, has tended to mitigate this wholly negative picture and historians have gradually come to recognise the contribution of the resettlement of the Greek refugees from Turkey not only to the ethnological homogeneity and thus to the security and territorial integrity of Greece but also to the significant enrichment of Greek life, society and culture (AlGIDIS 1934; VALAORAS 1925; PENTZOPOULOS 1962; KlTROMILIDES 1992). By contrast with Greece, in Turkey interest in the exchange of populations and the refugee experience has generated minimal historiographical and literary interest. Only in the last decade of the twentieth century has the 'great exchange' formed the object of monographic treatment (ARI 1995), while in the new critical social history one can detect the beginnings of a reassessment of the overall significance of the expulsion of the Christian population for the development of Turkish society (KEYDER 1987). This may be connected with an overall reappraisal of twentieth century Turkish history, intended to revise the statesponsored historiographical views that streamlined historical research and historical thought for a very long time. The appraisal of the long-term significance of the exchange of populations brings up some broader issues that might be considered in conclusion. The conventional view in both Turkey and Greece holds that the exchange of populations by contributing to the ethnic homogeneity of the two countries constituted a final, but critical, stage in the production of viable national societies in Greece and Turkey. In other words the exchange is considered as the final act that completed nation-building in the two countries. This view has been probably

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stronger in Turkey than in Greece. It was certainly integral to the philosophy of Kemalist nationalism and provided the major motivation behind Turkey's adamant position on this issue at Lausanne (DAVISON 1953). In Greece, in turn, the achievement of one of the most homogenous societies in Europe following the departure of the majority of Moslems from the country and the influx of Greeks from Asia Minor, has provided consolation for the great historical and emotional loss associated with the exchange (SVOLOPOULOS 1981). From the perspective of the last decade of the twentieth century, however, the events of the exchange seventy years ago may appear in a different, less glowing light. The exchange may be seen as a form of 'ethnic cleansing', masquerading behind the respectability of international law and sanctioned by the blessing of the League of Nations and the great powers of civilised Europe who were present and parties to the Lausanne negotiations. Of course the issue here is not a question of names and semantics. The exchange of populations was both a stage in nationbuilding and a policy of ethnic cleansing, which involved an enormous human cost. It is neither morally edifying nor intellectually honest to downplay this aspect of the problem. Nevertheless, if this dimension of the exchange strictly-speaking belongs to the past, another dimension was to form part of the future of the affected societies. By reducing ethnic pluralism through such radical means, the exchange prevented the modern national societies that emerged from it from learning the skills and internalizing the values necessary for the practice of toleration, mutual respect of social groups and recognition of otherness. This can explain in turn the seemingly incomprehensible insecurity often encountered in Greece over 'nationally sensitive' questions. More seriously it can explain to a considerable degree the great tragedy through which Turkey has been going in the closing decade of the twentieth century in connection with the residue of ethnic pluralism left behind in its society by the application of religion as the primary criterion of the exchange. This had forced away in the 1920s the loyal Turkishspeaking Orthodox of the hinterland of Asia Minor but left unaffected the Kurdish-speaking Moslems, whose future later on in the twentieth century was to be determined not by religion but by the indomitable force of ethnic nationalism. Postscript - 2006 In the decade or so since the original writing of this chapter there have been important scholarly developments in the broader field of the study of the GreekTurkish population exchange of the 1920s. In this postscript, written in December 2006, I should like to record the most important such developments that have come to my attention, as an update of the text I wrote in response to the original assignment of the editors of PhHTF. In my judgement in the period under review this field of scholarship has been marked by two significant developments that promise to bring about a noteworthy transformation of the subject. Of these two developments one is institutional, the other conceptual. The important institutional development that has taken place has to do with the establishment in Istanbul of the Lausanne Exchanged Population Foundation

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(Lozan Miibadilleri Vakfi), which held its inaugural congress in November 2003, marking the eightieth anniversary of the 1923 Population Exchange Convention. The proceedings of this conference entitled Yeniden kurulan ya§amlar edited by Miifide PEKiN, were published in Istanbul in 2005. The significance of this development for the study of the refuggee population of Turkey cannot be really overemphasized. In a way eighty years too late the LMV comes to fulfill a research mission in contemporary Turkey that had been undertaken in Greece, on a private initiative, already in the 1920s with the Merlier project and the eventual establishment of the Centre for Asia Minor Studies. Indeed the initiators of the LMV project came to Athens and studied in detail the organization, archives and other resources and research methodology of the Centre for Asia Minor Studies as a model for their own operation. The Istanbul project, however, came in a sense too late in time to replicate the CAMS methodology, which had worked entirely with the refugee population itself in the three or four decades immediately following the exchange. By the time the Istanbul operation was set in motion, most of the refugee population of Greek Moslems who had been moved to Turkey by the exchange, had died out or those still alive were impossible to locate for luck of evidence concerning their precise relocation in a much vaster country. So the LMV project has had to work with second or third generation descendants of the refugee population trying to recover the picture of the exchange indirectly through family memory and tradition. The concrete empiricism, precision and detail of the oral history archive of the CAMS, however, concerning the refugee population of Greece and their Anatolian background cannot be approximated. The Istanbul project, nevertheless, even with its approach of indirect oral history can go a considerable way in covering at least one serious lacuna in available knowledge of the Turkish aspect of the exchange, that is the pattern of relocation of Moslem refugees in Turkey. Thus the hitherto available picture with its primarily quantitative features of the resettlement of Moslem refugees in the Turkish Republic, already recorded by Stephen Ladas in 1932, can now become more nouanced and detailed. What can be gained, especially, might be called the recovery of lost communities. Thus on the basis of the new evidence collected by LMV researches it may become possible to retrace the resettlement and dispersal within Turkey (in Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace) of Moslem communities evacuated from Greece. It could, hopefully, become possible for instance to retrace the Turkish trajectories of the Greek-speaking Moslems of Western Macedonia, the Valaades, thus constructing the research basis for a second case study in refugee resettlement besides the better known case of the Turco-Cretans who were resettled in the Izmir region and in the city of Ayvalik and on Cunda Island (Moschonisi) just off the Aeolian coast, where the Cretan Greek dialect of this group lingered on until the closing decade of the twentieth century. Similar information concerning the Orthodox refugees from Asia Minor on the level of community relocation is readily available in the records of the CAMS - under the rubric Simerini Egkatastasi = Today's Settlement - and in a remarkable literature of monographs, photographic albums and personal accounts recording the resettlement in Greece. With the coordinated work initiated now in

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Turkey under the aegis of LMV it may be hoped that more systematic comparisons on refugee resettlement in Greece and Turkey may in the future become possible, thus providing a more sound basis for the assessment of the impact of the exchange on the two countries and on the two societies. On the Turkish side even personal accounts of the uprooting and refugee experience remained sparse and came rather late in time. This literature could provide another point of comparison, covering the entire range of the refugee experience: uprooting from the original homeland, transfer to the new motherland, relocation and reception in the new national environment, the elaboratrion/suppression of refugee identity, the handling of memory. Such have been the successive stages of the creation of refugee identity in both countries, with time lags characteristic of and dependent upon differences in the respective ideological attitudes toward the historical fact of the exchange itself. All this has been reflected most characteristically in literary works recreating personal and family experiences, such as the work of the Ayvalikbased author of Turco-Cretan origin Ahmet YORULMAZ, Sava§in gocuklari (Istanbul 1997). Contextualized within the evidence of the oral history projects on the exchanged populations such literary sources can provide evocative testimonies of the social psychology nurtured by the experience of the exchange. The second important development in scholarship on the exchange of populations has been conceptual. It arises from an enrichment of the range of approaches bearing on the subject and from a more pronounced normative perspective that emerges from a systematic connection of the subject with the study of minorities and human rights — a connection long overdue. This perspective also makes it possible to raise questions of responsibility and to rethink the whole range of issues connected with the idea of obligatory exchange first introduced by the Lausanne Convention, regardless of the wishes of the populations involved. All this is important and welcome and it brings a salutary humanist outlook to bear upon the understanding of a problem that has been for the most part conceptualized in terms of the dictates of reason of state. Another distinctive feature of recent work on the exchange has been a preference marking the work of historians and social scientists of the younger generation to treat the subject as 'narrative' and to look at it critically in terms of the 'discources' of official ideology. This can be quite useful as a critical perspective unveiling the ideological manipulations of the refugee experience. The practitioners of this type of analysis, however, should be warned that focusing on "narratives" and forms of discourse runs the risk to obscure the historical ontology that exists hors texte and thus it can involve other kinds of distorions, which eventually ignore the social content and human cost and suffering that make up the refugee experience in real terms. One further important and most welcome feature of recent literature on the exchange of populations has been the systematic attempt to bring the Turkish and Greek experiences together rather than treat each case in isolation. This feature of earlier literature, that has marked its greatest part that had focused exclusively on the Greek case, has now been overcome. A sincere three-way dialogue between Greek and Turkish scholars and foreign observers of the Greek-Turkish scene and

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a noteworthy willingness to develop the linguistic and other skills necessary to work with source material in both languages is setting a new trend in scholarschip which has produced in the very recent past some remarkable works. The model of this encounter between traditions of scholarship has been set by the volume edited by Renée HLRSCHON, already a well established authority in refugee studies: Crossing the Aegean. An appraisal of the 1923 compulsory population exchange between Greece and Turkey (Oxford 2003). A second collection along the same lines has been put together by C. TSITSELIKIS, H eXXrjvoTOvpKiKrj avxaXkayr] 7tlrjdv(j/uojv. IJmxéç /xiâç eOviKtjç avyxpovarjç [The Greco-Turkish population exchange. Aspects of a national conflict] (Athens 2006). An evocative addition to this literature has been produced by Bruce CLARK, Twice a stranger. How mass expulsion forged Modern Greece and Turkey (London 2006), whereas Onur YILDIRIM, Diplomacy and Displacement. Reconsidering the Turco-Greek Exchange of Population 1923-1934 (New-York and London 2006) is a good example of the work produced by the younger generation of scholars entering the field, with both its strengths and weaknesses. All of these works include bibliographies of writings not only in English but also in Greek and Turkish and therefore constitute very useful research guides for an initial orientation in this field of scholarship. Two other monographs examine in depth important aspects of the population exchange and its consequences. Elisabeth KONTOGIORGI, Population exchange in Greek Macedonia. The rural settlement of Refugees 19221930 (Oxford 2006) and N. MARANTZIDIS, Yasasin Millet, Zr/rco TO éOvoç (Iraklio 2001). By contrast to Greece, where the subject has been a major historiographical concern, in Turkey interest in the population exchange until comparatively recently has been minimal. Some recent works have contributed significantly in redressing this picture, including Mehmet Ali GÔKAÇTI, Niifiis miibadelesi: kayip bir ku§agin hikâyesi (Istanbul 2002) and M. PEKiN, ed., Yeniden kurulan ya§amlar. 1923 Turk-Yunan zorunlu niifus miibadelesi (Istanbul 2005). This necessarily brief and compressed survey of a complex subject with a remarkable history of its own should conclude with a word on research aids that provide fuller compendia of sources and studies to be consulted by interested scholars. One such extremely useful compendium is provided by P. HADJIMOISSIS, BipXioypacpia 1919-1978. Mucpaaiawcrj eKorpaxsia-riTza-itpooqvyia [Bibliography 1919-1978. Asia Minor campaign-defeat-refugee experience] (Athens: ERMIS 1981). Correspondingly on the Turkish side Mùfide PEKIN and Ç. TURAN, eds., Miibadele bibliografyasi (Istanbul 2002). Indispensable research aids are the compendia of Karamanli bibliography compiled by S. SALAVILLE and E. DALLEGGIO, Karamanlidika. Bibliographie analytique d'ouvrages en langue turque imprimés en caractères grecs. I. 1584-1850 (Athens 1958), II. 1851-1865 (Athens 1966) and III. 1866-1900 (Athens 1974) and continued by E. BALTA, Karamanlidika. Additions (1584-1900), (Athens 1987), Karamanlidika. XX siècle: Bibliographie analytique (Athens 1987) and Karamanlidika. Nouvelles additions et compléments (Athens 1997).

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The same scholar has produced important and extensive work on the Ottoman historical background in Greek society and on the Orthodox community in Asia Minor and their cultural heritage, including two albums of photographic documentation on two important Cappadocian communities that were exchanged in 1924: IJpoKom/Urgiip (Athens 2004) and hvaaog (Athens 2004). All of the above works have been published by the Centre for Asia Minor Studies and their appearance over the years suggests the pluralism of approaches and the range of primary source material that have been brought to bear upon the study of the refugee community produced by the exchange of populations.

Bevölkerungsexplosion und innerstaatliche Wanderungen WOLF HÜTTEROTH

Die Bevölkerungsentwicklung im 20. Jahrhundert Die Bevölkerungsentwicklung des Gebietes, das der heutige Türkische Staat einnimmt, hat im 20. Jahrhundert dramatische Entwicklungen genommen. Während in den vorausgehenden Osmanischen Jahrhunderten die Bevölkerung erstens weitaus geringer war als gemeinhin angenommen und zweitens auch erheblich langsamer wuchs, kam es seit der zweiten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts zu einem beschleunigten Anstieg. Nur die ersten beiden Jahrzehnte des 20. Jahrhunderts brachten mit langen Kriegen und erheblichen Bevölkerungsreduzierungen durch Verlust der griechishcen und armenischen Minoritäten einen erheblichen Rückschlag, freilich mit dem Gewinn wachsender ethnischer Geschlossenheit. Für das Gesamtgebiet des heutigen Türkischen Staates gibt es Zahlen, die auf Zählungen und nicht nur auf Schätzungen beruhen, nur für das 16. Jahrhundert und dann wieder für das 20. Jahrhundert. Die erste moderne Volkszählung fand 1927 statt, sie war allerdings noch mit vielen Mängeln behaftet. Nach einheitlicher Fragestellung durchgeführte Bevölkerungszählungen gibt es dann seit 1935, und zwar alle fünf Jahre. Ihre Ergebnisse sind meist einige Jahre später in weit aufgeschlüsselter Form — bis zur einzelnen Gemeinde — zugänglich. Unter den zahlreichen Publikationen des Statistischen Zentalamtes (DIE = Devlet Lstatistik Enstitüsü) ist diese Publikation eine der wichtigsten. Allerdings beruht sie auf einer de facto-Zählung der gerade ortsanwesenden Bevölkerung. Garnisonen größerer militärischer Einheiten beispielsweise können also das Ergebnis lokal etwas verschieben. Diese Gesamtzählungen ermöglichen einen überblick über die Bevölkerungsentwicklung, die im Vergleich zu den wenig begründeten Schätzungen der vorausgehenden Jahrhunderte eine gewisse Dramatik offenbart. Die Kurve (vgl. Abb. 1) zeigt im Lauf des 20. Jahrhunderts einen Anstieg auf das fünffache bis sechsfache der Zahlen der Zeit des Ersten Weltkrieges. Einen solchen Anstieg hat es noch nie gegeben; es kommen mehrere Gründe zusammen, um ihn zu erklären.

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Mill. Einw.

Abb. 1: Der Anstieg der Bevölkerungszahl innerhalb des 20. Jahrhunderts, einschließlich osmanischer Angaben Anfang des Jahrhunderts

Während der langen vorausgehenden Osmanischen Periode war die Geschwindigkeit und das Ausmaß der demographischen Veränderungen relativ gering. Der steilere Anstieg der Bevölkerungswerte im 16. Jahrhundert ((tm). BARKAN 1957) beruht wohl auf der vorausgehenden Nichterfassung größerer (v.a. nomadischer) Bevölkerungsteile in peripheren Gebieten. Sicher stieg die Bevölkerungszahl vom 15. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert an, aber es gab zahlreiche Gründe, die diesen Anstieg in Grenzen hielten und insgesamt auf einen biologischen Zuwachs von ganz wenigen Prozent pro Jahr beschränkten. Da war zunächst das Fehlen jeder modernen Medizin, was die Kindersterblichkeit heraufsetzte und den Altersaufbau drückte. Dazu kamen zahlreiche Kriege und innere Auseinandersetzungen, die die Bevölkerungszahl dezimierten. Bemerkenswerterweise war davon die nichtislamische Bevölkerung deutlich weniger betroffen, da sie ja keinen Kriegsdienst zu leisten hatte. Es ist zu vermuten — genauere Untersuchungen stehen noch aus -, daß der Anteil nicht-islamischer Bevölkerung sogar im 19. Jahrhundert höher war als im 16. Jahrhundert. Dieses insgesamt sehr langsame Bevölkerungswachstum der vormodernen Zeit hat die Osmanische Türkei mit allen Ländern vergleichbarer Zivilisationsstufe gemein. Einen letzten großen Rückschlag erlebte die Türkei im Ersten Weltkrieg und in den Jahren direkt danach. Abgesehen vom Verlust der griechischen und armenischen Minorität hat auch die türkische Bevölkerung Kriegsverluste gehabt, die weit über den vergleichbaren Werten anderer kriegführender Nationen lagen. Die Kalkulationen von J. McKARTHY (1963) ergeben kriegsbedingte Bevölkerungsverluste von ca. 18% der islamischen türkischen Bevölkerung in der Zeit von

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1911-1922, wovon der Großteil nicht reguläre Soldaten, sondern Zivilisten waren. Mangelhafte Versorgung der Zivilbevölkerung war neben irregulären militärischen Aktivitäten der Hauptgrund dieses Desasters. Im Vergleich dazu hatten England und Deutschland sogar einen leichten Bevölkerungsanstieg in der gleichen Zeit. Das Einbeziehen eines traditionellen Staates in eine damals moderne Kriegsführung mußte zu Verlusten führen, die weit über denen westlicher Nationen lagen. Der zivilisatorische Rückstand dokumentiert sich unter anderem hierin. Zu Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts zeichneten sich allerdings als Folge der vorausgehenden Tanzimat-Jahrzehnte Unterschiede ab, die in den folgenden Jahrzehnten noch gravierender wurden. Das entscheidende war bereits damals das West-OstGefälle, oder der zivilisatorische Abstand zwischen der Metropole im Westen und den rückständigen Provinzen im Osten. Als in Istanbul — damals Konstantinopel/Kostantiniye — bereits Dampfschiffe verkehrten, Druckpressen liefen, Zeitungen erschienen, Eisenbahnzüge ankamen und moderne Schulen gegründet wurden, zu der Zeit lebte die Landbevölkerung im Osten noch weitgehend in mittelalterlichen Lebensumständen und Vorstellungen. Zwar war die Macht der größeren Regionalfürsten schon gebrochen (v. MOLTKE 1893), aber der Einfluß und die Macht des lokalen Aga — des Dorfhäuptlings oder Notablen — war unverändert groß. Es gibt über die Zeit zu Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts bereits eine ganze Reihe detaillierter Berichte, sowohl von Europäern wie von modern erzogenen Türken, so daß wir uns ein ziemlich gutes Bild des Landes und seiner Bevölkerung machen können. Allerdings zeichnet sich außer dem genannten West-Ost-Gefälle noch eine zweite Besonderheit ab, die auch bis heute nicht ganz beseitigt ist: Bei den Frauen war der Anteil der modern Gebildeten vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg noch ganz unbedeutend. Modernität war nicht nur eine Angelegenheit der Hauptstadt, sondern darin wiederum nur des männlichen Bevölkerungsteils. Selbst bei den türkischen Männern dürfte der Anteil derjenigen, die Lesen und Schreiben konnten, im gesamten Landesdurchschnitt kaum über 5% gelegen haben. Lediglich bei den christlichen Minoritäten gab es wohl infolge des Missionseinflusses jener Zeit einen etwas höheren Prozentsatz, den wir allerdings nicht kennen. Der neu entstehende republikanische Staat unter Atatürk griff in die demographischen Verhältnisse überhaupt nicht ein. Zunächst einmal war es ein Gebot der Klugheit, besonders in einem islamischen Land, dieses ziemlich heiße Eisen nicht anzufassen. Der Staat wollte und konnte sich nicht in die reinen Familienentscheidungen einmischen. Außerdem mußte der Staat geradezu ein Intersse daran haben, die geschrumpfte Bevölkerung der Türkei wieder möglichst rasch steigen zu lassen. Es fehlte allerdings noch an allen Eingriffsmöglichkeiten: Der Stand und vor allem die Verbreitung der modernen Medizin erlaubt noch kaum einen flächenhaften Eingriff des Staates. Im größten Teil des Landes war die Geburtenrate nicht wesentlich von der der vorausgehenden Jahrhunderte verschieden. Damit lag die jährliche Zuwachsrate der Bevölkerung wohl noch unter 2%. In den folgenden Jahrzehnten, vor allem nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg, setzten freilich Entwicklungen ein, die dieses Bild grundsätzlich veränderten. Am Anfang dürfte das zunächst kaum gewürdigte Faktum bestanden haben, daß Frieden

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herrschte. Niemand konnte natürlich zunächst wissen, daß dieser Frieden bis zum Ende des Jahrhunderts anhalten würde. Aber die Abwesenheit von Krieg, die zwar langen (zunächst drei, später zwei Jahre), aber geregelten Dienstzeiten für alle Rekruten und der nationalistische 'Schmelztiegel'-Effekt des Militärs machten sich bemerkbar. Die Tatsache, daß während des Zweiten Weltkrieges die Armee größtenteils unter Waffen gehalten wurde, führte zwar zu einer temporären Reduzierung der Wachstumskurve (vgl. Fig. 1), aber der generelle Bevölkerungsanstieg wurde dadurch nur kurzzeitig beschränkt. Der nächst wichtige Einfluß ging von der wachsenden Verbreitung und Nutzung moderner Medizin aus. Sicher fehlten — vor allem auf dem Land — noch lange Zeit eine ausreichende Zahl von gut ausgebildeten Ärzten. Auch heute wird noch über entsprechende Engpässe geklagt, vor allem in peripheren Gebieten, während in den Städten die Arzt-Dichte derjenigen europäischer Staaten entspricht. Aber die Verteilung einfacher Medikamente gegen die früher verheerenden Seuchen ist keine Angelegenheit, die viel medizinischen Sachverstand erfordert. Das konnten auch mittlere Beamte oder Lehrer machen. Zudem sind Medikamente im Vergleich zu anderen Entwicklungsmaßnahmen eine relativ billige Methode, die Bevölkerungzahl positiv zu beeinflussen. Ein weiterer Gesichtspunkt geht partiell auf Maßnahmen der Zeit vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg zurück: Es ist die modernere Verkehrserschließung und damit der Versorgungsausgleich zwischen agrarischen Überschußregionen und temporären Mangelgebieten. Früher, zur Zeit des Karawananverkehrs, war in Notzeiten ein Getreidetransport über mehr als sechs bis acht Kamel-Tagesreisen eine zu kostspielige Angelegenheit, die den Preis schon verdoppelte. Selbst wenn in manchen Gebieten erhebliche Mißernten auftragen, konnte aus entfernteren Regionen kein Notgetreide in den nötigen Mengen herbeigeschafft werden. Mit der Eisenbahn änderte sich das in den ersten Jahrzehnten des 20. Jahrhunderts (HECKER 1914, MÜHLMANN 1924), und dieser Versorgungsausgleich war (neben militärischen Bedürfnissen) einer der Gründe für den forcierten Ausbau der Bahn. Wenn in den Jahrzehnten des 20. Jahrhunderts keine gravierenden Hungersnöte mehr auftraten, dann ist das zum wesentlichen Teil auf den jetzt möglichen Versorgungsausgleich zurückzuführen. Nach wie vor treten natürlich, klimabedingt, in verschiedenen Teilen des Landes Mißernten auf (Christiansen-WENIGER 1970), und die relativen Trockengebiete, in denen immer wieder Dürren vorkommen (TÜMERTEKIN 1956), sind bekannt und haben auch in guten Jahren deutlich niedrigere Ernten pro Flächeneinheit zur Folge. Aber die schweren regionalen Hungersnöte sind gebannt. Es kann kein Zweifel daran bestehen, daß die friedliche aber forcierte Entwicklung des 20. Jahrhunderts den Lebensstil und den Lebensstandard der Türkei erheblich näher und schneller an den Durchschnitt Europas herangebracht hat als das bei anderen islamischen Staaten möglich war. Die treibende Kraft des Staatsgründers Atatürk ist hierbei nicht zu übersehen. Der Unterschied wird insbesondere deutlich, wenn man die Grenzen des Staates nach Südosten überschreitet: Es ist nicht nur die Größe und Bevölkerungszahl, die die Türkei über ihre südlichen Nachbarn hinaushebt, sondern durchaus auch die Vielfalt moderner wirtschaftlicher Aktivitäten. Darüber hinaus hat das Land trotz dreier Militärputsche und zahlreicher Unvollkommenheiten immerhin seit 1950 ein vorwiegend demo-

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kratisches System, das den westeuropäischen Vorbildern deutlich näher ist als seinen östlichen Nachbarn. Dabei hat der türkische Staat — das wird viel zu wenig bedacht — diese Entwicklung erreicht, ohne wie Iran oder manche arabischen Länder auf reichlich fließende Erdöl-Einnahmen zurückgreifen zu können. Demographischer Vergleich mit anderen Staaten Das relativ positive Bild — im Vergleich zu östlichen Nachbarländern — sieht allerdings etwas anders aus, wenn man die Türkei in eine Reihe mit den europäischen Staaten stellt. Wenn man von der zeitbedingten Sondersituation der postkommunistischen Staaten Osteropas einmal absieht, dann steht die Türkei in vieler Hinsicht am Ende Europas. Als Maßstab sei das Bruttosozialprodukt pro Kopf und der Anteil der Personen mit mindestens Volksschulausbildung für einige europäische Länder herausgegriffen. Sozialprodukt einiger europäischer Länder (Bruttoinlandsprodukt) pro Einwohner in konstanten Preisen von 1990, in US-$ (nach: Statist. Jahrbuch der BRD, Internat. Übersichten, 1996) (1989) Schweiz 33.240 Finnland 27.150 Schweden 26.690 Deutschland 22.890 (1989: BRD, 1994: Ges.) Frankreich 20.690

(1994) 32.320 24.420 25.390 21.530 21.330

(1989) 18.910 Italien Großbritann. 16.940 12.220 Spanien Griechenland 8.220 Portugal 6.820 Türkei 2.500

(1994) 19.710 17.300 13.050 8.200 6.990 2.720

Diese Reihenfolge hat sich in den vorausgehenden Jahrzehnten und folgenden Jahren (soweit bis 1994 zu übersehen) wenig verschoben; der Abstand der Türkei (auch von Portugal und Griechenland) zu den übrigen europäischen Staaten ist kaum wesentlich geringer geworden. Angesichts besonders stark steigender Bevölkerungszahlen gerade in diesen Ländern ist mit einer baldigen Angleichung an das europäische Mittel kaum zu rechnen. Als zweites ist die Grundschulbildung ein Indikator der Modernisierung. Man muß dazu sagen, daß in der Türkei die Zahl der Familien immerhin schon beträchtlich ist, in denen moderne Schulbildung inzwischen in der vierten Generation selbstverständlich ist. Dennoch ist noch längst keine nahezu volle Schulbildung erreicht, wie sie in westeuropäischen Staaten üblich ist. Die Qualität der Schulausbildung bleibt dabei allerdings als nicht meßbar ohnehin außer Betracht. Analphabeten 1995, Anteil an der Gesamt-Bevölkerung über sechs Jahre (nach Statist. Jahrbuch BRD 1996 — Ausland): männlich weiblich gesamt Spanien 2,6 % 6,6 % 4,6 % Griechenland 2,3 % 7,0 % 4,8 % Malta 14,8 % 13,9 % 14,3 %

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Portugal Türkei

11,2 %

18,5 %

15,0 %

8,3 %

27,6 %

17,7 %

Diese Daten über Schulbildung sind im Gegensatz zu denen über das Bruttosozialprodukt relativ leicht regional aufzuschlüsseln, und das ist auch notwendig. Wir besitzen zwar keine Karte über die neueren Zahlen der Grundschulbildung in den einzelnen kleineren Verwaltungseinheiten (Kreisen), aber wir verfügen über Daten nach den detaillierten Untersuchungen von U. PLANCK ( 1 9 7 2 ) für die frühen sechziger Jahre. Die Werte haben sich natürlich seither erheblich positiv verschoben, aber das Prinzip regionaler Verteilung ist geblieben. Danach zeigt sich — wie bei zahlreichen Modernisierungen — ein markantes West-Ost-Gefälle in der Bildung: Der Nordwesten des Landes mit Istanbul zeigte schon in den siebziger Jahren durchaus europäische Werte. Durch die massive Einwanderung nach Istanbul, vor allem aus Ostanatolien, ist das Niveau wieder etwas gesunken. Nach Osten und Südosten hin nimmt der Grad der Schulbildung — von den größeren Städten abgesehen — deutlich ab. Die geringsten Werte werden da erreicht, wo zur modernen Einschulung noch das Sprachproblem hinzutritt, das heißt in den Gebieten kurdischer Muttersprache im Südosten. Eine zweite Besonderheit hat die Türkei auch heute noch mit allen islamischen Ländern gemeinsam, es ist der erheblich höhere Anteil der Illiteraten bei den Frauen. Die moderne Statistik ( 1 9 9 6 ) zeigt, daß im Mittel im Vergleich zu Männern die Analphabetenrate der Frauen mehr als dreimal so hoch ist. Diese Zahlen korrespondieren mit einer Vielzahl anderer Zahlenwerte, die letztlich auf den Bildungsstand zurückgehen. Auch hierbei verringern sich die Unterschiede mit Annäherung an die großen westlichen Städte, und im zurückgebliebenen Südosten sind sie relativ am größten. Die islamischen Einwanderer nach Anatolien (Muhacir/Gögmen) Die Bevölkerung des heutigen Türkischen Staates ist herkunftsmäßig stärker gemischt und aus sehr verschiedenen Ursprüngen zusammengesetzt als viele jetzige Bürger es wahrhaben wollen. Dafür waren insbesondere die Einwanderungswellen des 19. Jahrhunderts verantwortlich, die in Millionenzahl die Muhacir, die islamischen Einwanderer aus verlorenen osmanischen oder islamischen Ländern, in die Türkei brachten (vgl. hierzu die Artikel von MCCARTHY, AKCAM und KLTROMLLIDIS in diesem Band). Diese Einwanderungswellen setzten zu Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts ein und dauerten als Massenbewegung bis in die fünfziger Jahre des 2 0 . Jahrhunderts, als rund 1 5 0 . 0 0 0 Muslime aus Bulgarien kamen bzw. bis zur Vertreibung von Bulgarientürken 1989 (s.u.). Man sollte im einzelnen mehrere Einwanderungsgruppen und Einwanderungszeiten unterscheiden. Hier wird der jüngsten und umfassendsten Zahlenzusammenstellung von P. ANDREWS ( 1 9 8 9 ) gefolgt: Die ersten größeren Muhacir/Gögmen-Gruppen kamen wohl nach der russischen Eroberung der Krim bzw. des Krim-Chanates. Man schätzt, daß in den Jahren 1790 bis 1800 fast eine halbe Million Krimtataren (KLÄY 1975) ausgewie-

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sen und in das Osmanische Reich — damals noch mit den Balkanländern — abgeschoben wurden. Wieviele davon im Osmanischen Reich ankamen resp. wieder angesiedelt werden konnten, ist freilich ebenso unklar wie der Anteil derer, die in das Gebiet der heutigen Türkei kamen. Mit erheblichen absoluten Bevölkerungsverlusten ist (nach den hundert Jahre späteren Beispielen von Umsiedlungen) zu rechnen. Die nächstfolgende große Welle war die der Nogay-Tataren, ebenfalls aus der heutigen Südukraine. Für die Jahre 1860/62 liegt eine ziemlich genau erscheinende Zahl vor, danach verließen 141.667 Menschen ihre Heimat. Etwa dreißig Jahre später, 1891/93, kamen aus den gleichen Gebieten noch einmal rund 20.000 weitere Nogayer dazu (GÖZAYDIN 1948). Die Dörfer der letzteren kann man zum Teil noch heute in Anatolien unterscheiden. Eine der noch heute bedeutsamsten Gruppen kam in den Jahren 1863/64, es handelt sich um die unter dem Sammelnamen £erkes/Tscherkessen zusammengefaßten Flüchtlinge aus dem Nordwesten Kaukasiens. Die realen Zahlen differieren erheblich, die Schätzungen liegen zwischen 500.000 und einer Million (AYDEMiR 1973-75). Die Unsicherheit über die Immigrationszahlen in das Osmanische Reich kommt vor allem dadurch zustande, daß man diejenigen, die auf kleinen privaten Booten über das Schwarze Meer kamen und an verstreuten Küstenplätzen landeten, nicht erfassen konnte. Die Aufnahme in den Türkischen Häfen scheint allerdings wenig organisiert gewesen zu sein und die Bevölkerungsverluste durch Seuchen waren demgemäß beträchtlich. Von diesen Tscherkessen wurde ein größerer Teil — man schätzt rund ein Drittel (DE PLANHOL 1968) — in Nordbulgarien angesiedelt, um die Osmanische Herrschaft in diesem Raum gegenüber dem russischen Einflußbereich zu stärken. Als dann 1878 Bulgarien, zumindest im Norden, selbständig wurde, mußte diese Gruppe ein zweites Mal umsiedeln und verstärkte die Zahlen derer, die in das verbleibende Osmanische Reich drängten. Die Ansiedlung der Tscherkessen erfolgte durch die Osmanischen Behörden bereits nach planmäßiger Aufteilung auf die Provinzen und Kreise des westlichen und mittleren Anatolien. In den Syrischen Ländern, vor allem im heutigen Jordanien und Syrien, gibt es ebenfalls eine Reihe von Kaukasierdörfern. Die Osmanische Regierung verfolgte mit dieser Ansiedlung zwei Ziele: Zunächst sollten bisher kaum genutzte bzw. nur als Weideland extensiv genutzte Gebiete in Wert gesetzt werden, und dann sollten mit der Ansiedlung des als besonders tapfer und loyal geltenden Volkselements rebellische Kurden- und Araber-Stämme gezügelt werden. Beides ist zwar teilweise gelungen, allerdings zu einem erheblichen Preis: Die angesiedelten Tscherkessen entpuppten sich bald als mindestens ebenso gefährliche Briganten wie diejenigen, gegen die sie einen Schutz bilden sollten. Dieser schlechte Ruf haftet den Tscherkessen zu Recht oder Unrecht heute noch an. Diese Kaukasier wurden vielfach in Gegenden verpflanzt, deren Klima sie nicht vertrugen und gegen die dort herrschende Malaria war man damals noch machtlos. So schätzt man, daß von den in die £ukorova östlich Adana versetzten Tscherkessen an die 90% in den folgenden Jahren an Malaria gestorben sind. Nur wenige Tscherkessendörfer haben bis in die Gegenwart überlebt. In anderen versumpften Ebenen dürfte es ähnlich gewesen sein.

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Kurz nach den ersten Massenumsiedlungen von Tscherkessen kamen 1865 aus dem Kaukasus rund 40.000 Tschetschenen und Inguschen, die im Osmanischen Reich jedoch keine so ethnisch geschlossene Gruppe bildeten wie die Tscherkessen, denen sie sogar vielfach landläufig zugerechnet wurden. Damit war der Hauptanteil islamischer, militanter Kaukasier jener Zeit zumindest aus dem westlichen Kaukasien ausgesiedelt, wenngleich kleinere Gruppen immer noch dann und wann hinzu kamen. Die weiteren Flüchtlingswellen kamen im wesentlichen vom Balkan und standen meist mit kriegerischen Auseinandersetzungen mit den selbständig werdenden Staaten in Verbindung. Niemand hat bisher einen überblick über die annähernde Zahl der Muslime, die vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg aus Serbien, Bosnien und später Makedonien in das Osmanische Reich ausgewandert sind. Die Zahlen dürften aber wohl einige Hunderttausend betragen. Ihre Berücksichtigung gehört jedoch zum Verständnis der Voraussetzungen des gegenwärtigen Staates. Eine der ersten Flüchtlingswellen aus Westen war auch die der islamischen Kreter um 1900. Man schätzt die Zahl auf rund 20.000. Die damals noch Osmanische Regierung siedelte sie vor allem in Westanatolien bzw. im türkischen Küstengebiet an, was angesichts der Gleichheit des Klimas sicher ein richtiger Entschluß war. Besser faßbar werden für uns erst die Flüchtlinge aus Bulgarien vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg bzw. im Zusammenhang mit den Balkankriegen. Man rechnet, daß bereits 1913 um 48.500 Bulgarien-Moslems umsiedelten. Es ist im übrigen fraglich oder strittig, inwieweit es sich dabei um 'Türken' handelte, genauso wie bei anderen Balkanflüchtlingen. Kriterium der Zugehörigkeit war damals für die muslimische wie für die christlich-orthodoxe Seite im wesentlichen die Religion, nicht die Sprache. Die Flüchtlinge waren also eigentlich nur 'Moslems', die das Türkische Reich als islamische Heimat verstanden. Die Masse der Bulgarien-Türken oder Bulgarien-Moslems kam allerdings erst nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg, verteilt auf mehrere Flüchtlingswellen. Man schätzt die Gesamtzahl der Übersiedler aus Bulgarien, vor und auch noch nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg, auf 488.000 Personen. Eingeschlossen ist hier die Massenvertreibung von rund 150.000 Moslems in den Jahren 1950/51. So gut wie alle erreichten die Türkische Republik. Ihre Absiedlung erfolgte allerdings aufgrund der Erfahrungen, die man mit der Assimilation der früheren Muhacir gemacht hatte, nicht mehr in eigenen Dörfern, sondern kleingruppenweise verteilt auf einheimische Dörfer und vor allem in Städten. Kurz vor dem Ende der kommunistischen Herrschaft in Bulgarien kam es noch einmal zu einer gewaltsamen MassenAustreibung im Jahr 1989. Man schätzt, daß damals ca. 300.000 Flüchtlinge über die Grenze kamen, von denen später allerdings rund 100.000 wieder zurückgegangen sind. Zahlenmäßig eine der größten Umsiedlungen war der Bevölkerungsaustausch zwischen Griechen und Türken 1923 und einige Jahre danach, bis 1928. Es ist dies eine der wenigen Bevölkerungsverschiebungen, die durch echte zweiseitige Verträge und in einigermaßen geregelter Form abliefen. Vorausgegangen waren allerdings die bekannten kriegerischen Auseinandersetzungen um Westanatolien, deren Bevölkerungsverluste auf beiden Seiten nicht zu den Umsiedlungszahlen

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rechnen. Die zahlenmäßigen Angaben liegen für die eigentlichen Umsiedler bei rund 400.000 Türken (Muslimen), die aus dem neuen Griechenland kamen, gegen rund 1.4 Millionen Griechen (Orthodoxe), die aus Westanatolien und zum Teil von der östlichen Türkischen Schwarzmeer-Küste (ehemaliges Trapezunt) kamen. Was an privaten Umsiedlern oder Flüchtlingen in der vorausgehenden Zeit des Ersten Weltkrieges (und davor in den Balkankriegen) noch dazu kommt, entzieht sich unserer Kenntnis, wenngleich man diese islamischen Umsiedler eigentlich dazu rechnen müßte. Die bekannten Zahlen von 1.4 Millionen zu 0.4 Millionen scheinen sonst als nackte Zahlen einen ziemlich ungleichen Tausch zu dokumentieren. Trotz aller 'ethnischer' Begründungen war das wesentliche Unterscheidungsmerkmal die Religion. Türkisch-sprachige Zentral-Anatolier (Karamanli), die Christen waren, wurden ebenso umgesiedelt wie griechisch-sprachige Muslime aus Makedonien. Hatten die einen sich von makedonischem Tabakanbau auf westanatolischen Olivenanbau umzustellen, so war es bei den anderen umgekehrt. Der 'Ethnos'-Begriff war durch die jahrhundertealte osmanische Tradition des 'Millet'-Systems vorerst noch religiös festgelegt. Insgesamt dürften im Laufe des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts mehrere Millionen von Flüchtlingen in das Gebiet der heutigen Türkei gekommen sein, die Mehrzahl davon nach Nordwest-Anatolien und später vor allem in die Städte. Man geht wohl nicht ganz fehl in der Annahme, daß rund ein Drittel bis ein Viertel der Bevölkerung der heutigen Türkei von Muhacir/Gögmen abstammt (DE PLANHOL 1993). Bei den meisten dieser Gruppen vollzieht sich die Assimilation relativ schnell und problemlos, wenngleich die alte Sprache im häuslichen Kreis noch lange fortlebt und das Heiratsverhalten die alten Herkunfts-Zusammengehörigkeiten noch konserviert. Bei den Türken, vor allem Westanatoliens, zeigt sich zudem ein ganz auffallend hoher Anteil von Menschen mit biologischen Kennzeichen nordwestlicher Herkunft, ganz im Gegensatz zu den Südost-Anatoliern und auch im Gegensatz zu allen Ideologien, die die Türken auch biologisch zu Zentralasiaten machen wollen. Sicher geht ein Teil davon auf jahrhundertelangen Sklavenimport vom Balkan und aus Südrußland zurück, aber ebenso bedeutend dürften die A/w/iadr-Umsiedlungen der letzten zweihundert Jahre gewesen sein. Voraussetzungen der beginnenden Binnenwanderung Neben dem rasanten Bevölkerungsanstieg in diesem Jahrhundert ist die deutliche Verlagerung des Bevölkerungsschwerpunktes nach Westen und die gegenüber den vorausgehenden Jahrhunderten ganz andere Bevölkerungsverteilung das entscheidende Kennzeichen. Diese Andersartigkeit, die die Türkei von den Ländern Nord-, Mittel- und Westeuropas unterscheidet, besteht vor allem in einer seit langem tradierten Konzentration der Siedlung auf die Berglagen, während die an sich fruchtbaren Ebenen mindestens seit byzantinischer Zeit verfielen. Wir müssen dazu kurz auf die Gründe für die vorausgehende Bevölkerungsverteilung und unsere Kenntnis darüber eingehen.

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Bereits in der späteren byzantinischen Zeit hatte eine innere Entwicklung eingesetzt, die mangels flächendeckender Sicherheit zu einer Konzentration der Bevölkerung auf die Städte und eine begrenzte Zahl geschützer und schützbarer Dörfer führte. Wir kennen keinerlei genauere Zahlen, aber der vielfach beschriebene Verfall des Landes unter den arabischen Invasionen und später durch die byzantinisch-türkischen Kriege muß sich in einer weitgehenden Entleerung Anatoliens dokumentiert haben. Es ist dabei allerdings wichtig und bemerkenswert, daß Ostanatolien infolge seiner relativ frühen administrativen Zugehörigkeit zum Kalifatsreich weitaus weniger von Verwüstungen und Entvölkerung betroffen gewesen sein muß als das Land westlich des Euphrat. Es lag lange Zeit fast in einem 'toten Winkel' der Weltgeschichte und konnte deshalb alte Bevölkerungsgruppen und altertümliche Sozialformen weit länger bewahren als der Westen. Die Unsicherheit für die verbleibende Landbevölkerung der anatolischen Halbinsel und selbst für die Bevölkerung der übrig gebliebenen Städte muß in jenen Jahrhunderten beträchtlich gewesen sein. Daran hat wohl auch die Blüte des Seldschuken-Reiches von Konya — abgesehen von dessen städtischen Zentren — wenig geändert. Wichtig scheint die Tatsache geworden zu sein, daß die neu hereinströmende und sich niederlassende türkische Bevölkerung zumindest in Anatolien selbst keine Religionskriege mehr zu führen hatte. Sie konnte sich damit flächenhaft niederlassen, wenn auch dem vorherrschenden Bedürfnis zufolge im wesentlichen auf dem Land und weniger in den verbliebenen Städten. Die Bevölkerungsdichte muß jedoch insgesamt noch recht gering gewesen sein. Dennoch war allerdings selbst in der Osmanischen Periode, vor allem im 17. bis 19. Jahrhundert, der Grad der Sicherheit auf dem Land relativ gering. Die Gründe dafür liegen in der inneren Organisation des Staates und in dem Prinzip, der Expansion oder Verteidigung nach außen den Vorzug gegenüber der inneren Konsolidierung zu geben. Dazu trat das Bestreben, selbstbewußt eine Organisationsform aufrecht zu erhalten, die seit Jahrhunderten überholt war. Für das Binnenland, und vor allem für das Kernland Anatolien, bedeutete das im wesentlichen das Aufbringen von recht hohen, selten fixierten Steuern. Staatliche Gegenleistungen in Form garantierter Sicherheit, auch Rechtssicherheit, kamen daneben entschieden zu kurz. Die Konsequenz einer solchen Situation mußte für die Landbevölkerung ganz eindeutige Bedingungen ergeben: Wenn die Niederlassung der Großfamilie oder Sippe (Süläle) einigermaßen überdauern und wenig geplündert werden wollte, dann mußte sie zunächst einmal ihre Siedlung dort anlegen, wo möglichst selten eigene Truppen vorbeikamen. Die großen Ebenen waren zu allen Zeiten ein Durchzugsgebiet größerer Truppeneinheiten; sinnvollerweise führten ja auch die Fernverkehrswege möglichst von einer Ova zur anderen, um die schwierigen Gebirgsstrecken zu minimieren. Wo immer also Truppen — vor allem Kavallerie — leicht zu bewegen waren oder oft durchzogen, war die Lage von ländlichen Siedlungen prekär und wurde möglichst gemieden. Dazu kam, daß all jene Bereiche gemieden werden mußten, wo zweimal jährlich auf der saisonbedingten Wanderung Nomadenstämme durchzogen. Jeder nomadische Stamm vereinigt auf der Wanderung eine größere Zahl von waffenfähigen Männern als sie ein Dorf aufbieten kann. Zudem ist wegen den vielfältigen

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Gefahren der Wanderung die Bewaffnung und die Kampfneigung bei Nomaden meist besser bzw. ausgeprägter. Ehe die Schafe der Nomaden alljährlich die Saatfelder abgrasen, legt man lieber kein Dorf in der Nähe der Wanderrouten an. Da die jährlichen nomadischen Fernwanderungen ebenfalls die Becken und Täler bevorzugten, solange es ging und man da genügend Weide fand, gab es entlang von deren Routen kaum bäuerliche Ansiedlungen. Schließlich muß noch das verbreitete Vorkommen der Malaria in den versumpften Becken, vor allem auch in den Küstenebenen, potentielle Siedler abgeschreckt haben. Die Ebenen waren siedlungsarm und 'verfügbar', und deshalb entstanden hier — vor allem in Küstennähe — im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert die £iftliks, die gutsähnlichen Großbesitze der vermögenden städtischen Oberschicht. All das mußte zur Folge haben, daß die einfache agrarische Bevölkerung ihre Siedlungen so anlegte, daß sie möglichst versteckt, entlegen und verteidigungsfähig waren. Der Gesichtspunkt der agrarischen Rentabilität spielte wahrscheinlich bis zur Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts noch keine wesentliche Rolle. Wenn es um das nackte überleben geht, nimmt man schon eine schwierige Versorgung in Kauf. In Europa kennt man derartige Lokalisierung nach Schutzbedürfnissen nicht, jedenfalls nicht im außermediterranen Europa. In jedem Falle zeigte die Siedlungsverteilung der Dörfer noch im 19. Jahrhundert ein Bild, das von moderner Rationalität und von zeitgemäßen ökonomischen Gesichtspunkten weit entfernt war. Die sicherheitsbedingte Konzentration auf unzugängliche Schutzlagen mußte zur Folge haben, daß selbst kleine Ackerflecken im Bergland, stark geneigte Flächen oder solche mit marginalen Böden noch beackerungswürdig erschienen, während die guten, tiefgründigen, schweren Böden der Ebenen überwiegend als Weideland dienten. Mit dem landesüblichen Hakenpflug, dem Drusch auf dem Feld und dem dominierenden Tragtierverkehr war diese Konzentration auf das Bergland auch durchaus möglich. Jede historische Karte noch aus der Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts (z.B. KIEPERT 1859) zeigt diese Verteilung. V. HÖHFELD hat den Kenntnisstand über diese Periode für den ganzen Orient in der TAVO-Karte AIX/1 dargestellt. Die Siedlungsexpansion im 19./20. Jahrhundert Die großen Flachlandschaften Zentralanatoliens, Süd- und Südostanatoliens, aber auch zahlreiche einzelne Binnenbecken, lassen bei einer Feststellung des Alters der Orte die ganz junge Landnahme und Siedlungsverdichtung, teilweise erst ihre Erschließung überhaupt, erkennen. In relativ größerem Maßstab hat N. TUNCDILEK (1959) das weitere Eskisehir-Gebiet dargestellt und damit die auffallend späte agrarische Erschließung der Ebenen verdeutlicht. Die moderne Zeit begann auf dem Land etwa in der Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts, als mehrere Dinge zusammentrafen. Zunächst einmal gewann die modern ausgebildete und relativ disziplinierte türkische Armee — u.a. mit ihrer Artillerie — ein definitives übergewicht gegenüber lokalen Autoritäten, auch gegenüber Nomaden. Von weiten Teilen der Landbevölkerung wurde sie jetzt akzeptiert.

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Weiterhin begannen in der zweiten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts die großen Einwanderungswellen der oben angeführten Muhacir. Für die einheimische Bevölkerung hatte das weitreichende Konsequenzen: Jeder Einheimische, der sah, wie 'Fremde' sich mit staatlicher Billigung oder gar Förderung auf seinen Weiden niederlassen durften, mußte zwangsläufig zu der Überlegung kommen, daß er selbst und seine Leute diesem Prozeß zuvorkommen müßten. Gewaltsame Auseinandersetzungen mit den Flüchtlingen kamen wohl zeitweise vor, scheinen aber auf die Dauer keine Rolle gespielt zu haben. Die relative Verfügbarkeit von Flächen, die nur als Weideland genutzt waren und somit juristisch als 'hasine' = Staatsland galten, auch wenn sie nicht kartographisch erfaßt waren, erleichterte den staatlichen Eingriff. Die Folge war, daß überall da, wo Muhacir angesiedelt wurden, sehr bald in der näheren und weiteren Umgebung ein Prozeß der Ansiedlung von Einheimischen auf ihren bisher nur periodischen Weideplätzen (Yaylas) in den Becken einsetzte. Dabei handelte es sich — wohl über einige Zwischenstufen — um eine definitive Ansiedlung mit agrarischem Anbau von großen Bevölkerungsteilen. Auch große Teile der bis Anfang des 20. Jahrhunderts noch nomadischen Yüriiken Westanatoliens siedelten sich in festen Dörfern an und nahmen ehemalige Weideflächen in Ackerkultur. Die Karte von V. HÖHFELD (1989) läßt das für Nordwest-Anatolien recht gut erkennen. Damit setzte ein säkularer Prozeß ein: Die allmähliche Verlagerung des Siedlungsschwergewichtes von den Bergen in die Ebenen. Dieser Prozeß, so langsam und unscheinbar er im konkreten Einzelfall auch zu sein scheint, ist gar nicht wichtig genug zu nehmen. Er bewirkte nach Jahrhunderten der Stagnation immerhin eine allmähliche Anpassung des Türkischen Siedlungsbildes an das, was im größten Teil Europas seit langem üblich war. Dieser Prozeß der 'Auffüllung' des Landes und des Umbrechens der Weiden lief parallel zu anderen Entwicklungen jener Zeit, ohne deren Gleichzeitigkeit er nicht möglich gewesen wäre. Zunächst war da natürlich die bereits genannte Pazifierung. Dazu kam, daß mit dem neuen, relativ modernen Agrargesetz 1856 jetzt erstmalig ein nahezu volles Eigentum an Ackerland (Tapulu arazi) möglich wurde, was bisher — abgesehen von wenigen Fällen besonderer Verleihungen — nur für Hausgrundstücke möglich war. Jetzt konnte der Bauer sein Land also in festen, erblichen Besitz nehmen. Nur die Bedingung ständiger Bebauung war daran geknüpft. Zwar fehlten noch (bis Mitte des 20. Jahrhunderts) jegliche Katasterkarten, alle Besitzeintragungen waren an eidesstattliche Erklärungen und an Zeugenaussagen gebunden, und die schriftliche Umschreibung des agrarischen Besitzes war noch ziemlich altertümlich. Aber immerhin gab es überhaupt eine schriftliche Fixierung bäuerlicher Besitzansprüche. Dieser Fortschritt als Antrieb agrarischer Expansion ist nicht zu unterschätzen. Leider wissen wir noch längst nicht, in welcher Abfolge oder mit welchen Verzögerungen sich dieser Prozeß vollzog. Ein weiterer wichtiger Einflußfaktor war der gegen Ende des Jahrhunderts stärker werdende Eisenbahnbau (vgl. HECKER 1914), zum Teil auch der Chausseebau. Mit dem Vorrücken der Bahngleise in das inneranatolische Hochland (1892 Ankara, 1896 Konya, 1905 Kilikische Pässe) wurde eine ausgedehnte, getreide-

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fähige Region dem Anbau erschlossen. Das gelang nicht nur wegen der relativ günstigen und sehr weit differenzierten Tarife, sondern auch weil jetzt der riesige Markt von Konstantinopel erreichbar war, und weil die Hauptstadt damit nicht mehr auf die Schiffstranporte von Getreide von der Donau, aus Bulgarien und Rumänien angewiesen war. Der Getreideanbau auf großen Flächen lohnte sich jetzt ebenso wie die Anlage neuer Orte in Getreidebau-Regionen, sofern ein Bahnanschluß schon in erreichbarer Nähe war. Die einzelnen Stadien dieser Expansion des Getreidebaus (und der Siedlungsexpansion als Folge davon) herauszuarbeiten, ist für den größten Teil des Landes allerdings noch eine Zukunftsaufgabe. Außer der Gegend von Eskisehir (TUNCDILEK 1959), von Konya - Ankara (HÜTTEROTH 1968), der (Jukurova (SOYSAL 1976) und der weiteren Umgebung von Antalya (DE PLANHOL 1958) kennen wir kaum einzelne Regionen genauer. Die Vermutung liegt nahe, daß es sich bei der Erschließung der ebeneren Flächen für den Getreidebau um einen von Westen nach Osten fortschreitenden Prozeß handelt, der wie so viele andere Modernisierungsprozesse der Hauptentwicklungsrichtung des Landes folgt. Die agrarisch marginalen Räume um den großen Salzsee in der Mitte Anatoliens sind dabei erst nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg in stärkerem Maße für den Getreidebau erschlossen worden, bedingt und wohl auch ausgelöst durch die beginnende Mechanisierung der Landwirtschaft. Ein nicht zu unterschätzender Einfluß dürfte außerdem von den staatlichen Getreidesilos ausgehen, deren Metall-Türme mit den Buchstaben TMO (Toprak Mahsulleri Ofisi) man allenthalben im Lande sieht. Diese Organisation erfaßt zwar im Durchschnitt nur einige Prozent der landesweiten Ernten, kann aber durch Garantiepreise immerhin den Weizenpreis einigermaßen kontrollieren und damit zur Stabilität der Lebensbedingungen auf dem Land beitragen. Der größte Teil der flächenhaften Getreidebau-Expansion erfolgte allerdings zu einem Zeitpunkt, als die verfügbaren technischen Mittel und der Bildungsstand der Landbevölkerung im größten Teil Anatoliens noch kaum eine eigentliche Modernisierung erwarten ließen. Die flächenhafte Ausdehnung erfolgte mit dem Ochsengespann und mit dem Hakenpflug, nur selten schon mit dem Traktor. Vermessung gab es noch nicht, und niemand machte sich Sorgen um den Abtransport des auf dem Feld gedroschenen Getreides. Das Dreschgut wurde zwar seit den fünfziger Jahren zunehmend mit dem Traktor in die Städte gefahren, aber man nahm die alten Feldwege und überfahrtsrechte der Ochsenkarren-Zeit in Anspruch. Die Dörfer waren nach wie vor zu eng für moderne Maschinen, das Saatgut war trotz der Saatzucht-Bemühungen der Staatsgüter noch weitgehend das alte. Kunstdünger kam erst sehr allmählich in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren auf, wenngleich sein Gebrauch heute weit verbreitet ist. Die Hektar-Erträge lagen landesweit nur wenig über einer Tonne pro Hektar, und das ist etwa ein Sechstel dessen, was in Mitteleuropa üblich ist. Zudem mußte, nach den Regeln des Trockenfeldbaus, jede nicht bewässerte Parzelle jedes zweite Jahr brach belassen werden, um Wasser zu speichern. Diese ersten, relativ simplen Modernisierungen haben dazu geführt, daß über Jahrzehnte der zunehmende Bevölkerungsdruck auf dem Lande noch aufgefangen werden konnte. Die Zeit um den Zweiten Weltkrieg und die ersten Jahrzehnte danach sahen einen bedeutenden Bevölkerungsanstieg auf dem Land, verbunden mit

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einer erheblichen rein quantitativen Ausweitung der Ackerflächen. Diese Phase der vorwiegend flächenmäßigen Expansion hat die Türkei mit den meisten Entwicklungsländern gemeinsam. In vielen Regionen wurden die Grenzen dieser ungeregelten Expansion bald klar, und die Warnungen vor zunehmender Bodenerosion und Verlusten von Acker- und auch Weideland durch Übernutzung nahmen zu. Die beginnende Massenabwanderung vom Land in die Städte Die beginnende Motorisierung des Getreidebaus hat sicher die Einkünfte pro Flächeneinheit gegenüber der früheren Schafzucht erheblich vermehrt. Andererseits hat die seitherige Modernisierung dazu geführt, daß die männliche ländliche Bevölkerung nur wenige Wochen im Jahr, zur Saat- und Erntezeit des Getreides, auf den Traktoren beansprucht war. Im größten Teil des Trockenfeldbau-Gebietes gab es einfach keine anderen Betätigungsmöglichkeiten. Für jede Art von zusätzlicher Bewässerung, so notwendig sie wäre — und in vielen Teilen Anatoliens auch zunehmend praktiziert wird —, fehlte in Inneranatolien einfach das Wasser. Die Folge mußte unweigerlich eine Abwanderung von Arbeitskräften sein, nicht nur in Inneranatolien. Reine Getreidebau-Regionen ohne Bewässerungsmöglichkeit, d.h. ohne die Chance einer Diversifierung des Anbaus, haben relativ bald ihr Arbeitskräftemaximum erreicht. Diese allmähliche Abwanderung eines wachsenden Anteils ländlicher Bevölkerung aus rein agrarischen Gebieten ist ein landesweiter Prozeß, der inzwischen fast alle Regionen der Türkei betroffen hat. In den Gebirgsgebieten gibt es kaum ein Dorf, in dem nicht viele Häuser leer stehen oder zusammenfallen. Die ehemaligen Besitzer — jetzt meist städtische Arbeiter oder Kleinunternehmer — kommen oft noch in den Sommerferien für einige Wochen in ihr altes Dorf zu Besuch, aber die eigentliche alte Dorfgemeinschaft ist aufgelöst. Der Verfasser kennt eine ganze Reihe von Dörfern, wo trotz Elektrifizierung in den achtziger Jahren heute kein Mensch mehr lebt. Die agrarischen Nutzflächen sind für heutige Bedürfnisse zu klein, zu unergiebig und nicht mit dem Traktor zu bearbeiten. Da ein beträchtlicher Teil der Türkei Gebirgsland ist, sind von der fortschreitenden Entvölkerung Zehntausende von Dörfern und Weilern betroffen. Der Prozeß, der mit dieser Abwanderungsbewegung in Gang kam, war somit eigentlich ein 'Aufholen' dessen, was in den Ländern Nord- und Mitteleuropas kaum nötig war und auch auf dem Balkan und im mediterranen Europa schon im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert geschehen ist. Der Unterschied ist nur, daß diese Entwicklung in der Türkei stürmischer und in kürzerer Zeit ablief, eben als 'Aufholprozeß'. Das bedeutet, daß in der Verteilung der Bevölkerung und damit aller Größenklassen von Siedlungen nun nicht mehr historische Gesetze der Sicherheit, sondern die modernen Regeln der (tm)konomie gelten. Das mußte eine beträchtliche Änderung im Verteilungsbild und in den Größenklassen der ländlichen und städtischen Siedlungen zur Folge haben.

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Abb. 2: Wanderungsbewegungen nach Provinzen 1985-90 (in Anlehnung an RITTER und TOEPFER 1992). Es sind nur Wanderbewegungen nach Istanbul, Ankara und Izmir dargestellt sowie nur Wanderungen mit über 5.000 Wanderungsfällen

Karten, die man über diese Entwicklung konstruiert hat (HÖHFELD 1977), lassen erkennen, was dabei für Folgen auftraten. Eine der wichtigsten Konsequenzen war die Unsicherheit in der Lokalisierung der neuen Zentren. Das gilt weniger für die größeren Orte, die ja meist Hauptorte von Provinzen waren und bleiben, als vielmehr für die kleineren Orte, die Kreis-(/ftzza oder später ilge) Hauptstädte wurden oder werden sollten. Ein beträchtlicher Teil davon war überhaupt erst von der späten Osmanischen Regierung oder von der beginnenden Republik neu gegründet, das Verwaltungsnetz war ja zunächst noch viel zu weitmaschig. Eine weitere Besonderheit ist die relative Unsicherheit in der Auswahl dieser neuen Zentren: Sehr viele von ihnen mußten im Lauf der Jahrzehnte des späten 19. und beginnenden 20. Jahrhunderts wieder verlegt werden, um eine bessere Lage im jetzt verschobenen Zentrum ihres Gebietes oder an neugebauten Verkehrswegen zu finden. Zunächst machte solche Verlegung auch wenig Schwierigkeiten, denn den zu verlegenden Institutionen entsprachen erst wenig Gebäude. Im Lauf des 20. Jahrhunderts wurden freilich diese Orte immer größer, ihre Institutionen immer fester, die Zahl der Institutionen und ihrer Gebäude nahm zu, das regionale Wegenetz stellte sich durch Verlagerungen darauf ein und wurde modernisiert. Auch die zahlreichen neu gegründeten Orte wurden fest und dauerhaft. Bei dieser Verstädterung auf dem Verwaltungswege standen sich allerdings zwei Forderungen gegensätzlicher Art gegenüber. Da war einmal der im 20. Jahrhundert selbstverständliche staatliche Auftrag, im gesamten Territorium annähernd gleiche Lebensbedingungen zu schaffen. Es mußten also die gleichen staatlichen Institutionen in allen Provinzen und Kreisen geschaffen werden, oder zumindest für ähnlich große Gruppen von Provinzen oder Kreisen gemeinsam (BAZIN 1969).

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Es gibt damit staatliche Verwaltungsbeamte im ganzen Land in einer Streuung, die annähernd der Fläche des Landes entspricht. Die zweite Forderung wird von der konkreten Bevölkerungsverteilung gestellt: Wo eine größere Zahl von Menschen ist, verlangt sie auch entsprechend dichte Institutionen. Wie in den meisten Ländern der Erde ist und war die Bevölkerung, der Raumausstattung des Landes entsprechend, nicht gleichmäßig verteilt. Aufgrund der gebirgigen Natur des Landes war das schon immer so, obwohl diese Verteilung für ein nahöstliches Land, etwa im Vergleich zu Persien oder Syrien, noch immer bemerkenswert ausgeglichen war und ist. Aber im Laufe des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts hat sich eindeutig gezeigt, daß der Westen des Landes, die Küsten des Westens und vor allem der Großraum um Istanbul ganz eindeutig bevorzugt waren. Hier im Westen liegt der (verhältnismäßig) größere Anteil beackerungsfähiger Flachlandschaften, hier erlaubt das Klima auch weiter landeinwärts einen vielfältigeren Anbau, hier sind die Wege zu den Häfen und damit zu europäischen Absatzmärkten kürzer, hier konzentriert sich der Ausbau des Landes seit Osmanischer Zeit, und hier liegen auch die Mehrzahl der jungen Bergbauunternehmen. Die wenigen Funde von Bodenschätzen im Osten, etwa das wenige (tm)l im Diyarbakir-Becken oder das Eisenerz am oberen Euphrat bei Divrigi, sind kein ausreichendes Gegengewicht. Die Wahl von Ankara zur neuen Hauptstadt der Türkei war sicher ein notwendiger Gewaltakt des Staatsgründers. Aber der Attraktivität von Istanbul hat das keinen Abbruch getan, das exponentielle Wachstum dieser Metropole (ohne öffentliche zentralstaatliche Funktionen!) hält bis in die Gegenwart an. Die Verlagerung des administrativen Zentrums in das Landesinnere hat die seit langer Zeit bestehende Tendenz Richtung Nordwesten allenfalls zeitweise bremsen, nicht aufhalten können. Regionale Differenzierung von Bevölkerungsanstieg und Abwanderung Man kann die mit der Bevölkerungsexplosion einhergehende Bevölkerungsverschiebung zu den neuen Schwerpunktgebieten in wenigen Thesen formulieren, die etwa für das letzte Drittel des 20. Jahrhunderts Gültigkeit haben: 1. Zunächst gilt für das gesamte Land, daß die Ovas, die Beckenlandschaften, erheblich gegenüber den umgebenden Gebirgsräumen an Bevölkerung zunehmen. Hier liegen die wichtigsten lokalen Zentren und Verkehrswege, Versumpfung und Malaria sind längst erfolgreich bekämpft, der Ausbau von ländlichen und vorstädtischen Siedlungen schreitet rasch voran und die Möglichkeiten agrarischer Intensivierung durch Bewässerung sind meist gut. Hierher strömt die Bevölkerung zusammen, vor allem aus den umgebenden Gebirgen, die mangels ausbaufähiger agrarischer oder anderer Ressourcen stagnieren oder sogar sich bevölkerungsmäßig entleeren. Diese 'säkulare Tendenz' gilt für Beckenebenen aller Größenordnungen und sie gilt im Binnenland wie an den Küsten. 2. Zu der genannten Regel gibt es allerdings eine Weiterentwicklung in den letzten Jahrzehnten: Sofern die Erschließung der Beckenebenen bereits einige Jahrzehnte zurückliegt, wie in manchen Becken im Westen und Nordwesten des

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Landes, im Ägäis- und Marmara-Gebiet, dann zeigt sich eine gewisse Sättigung und die Ova nimmt nicht mehr — oder nicht mehr überdurchschnittlich — zu. Das sind die Räume, wo die Bevölkerung des (ehemals) ländlichen Raumes nicht aus Not, sondern zwecks weiterer Verbesserung ihrer Verdienstmöglichkeiten in die Städte oder in ihre Nähe zieht. Die Verstädterung des ländlichen Raumes beginnt sich in den Ovas zuerst zu zeigen, und da wiederum zuerst im Westen des Landes. 3. Ein inzwischen abgeklungener Prozeß der Bevölkerungsbewegung zielte in diejenigen Bergland- und Gebirgsräume, wo bis zur Mitte dieses Jahrhunderts noch agrarische Reserven zu existieren schienen. Das war zunächst sicher der Fall in den tieferen Lagen des pontischen Gebirges, wo die Ausweitung der Haselnußkultur die Erschließung der Hänge erlaubte und damit zunächst noch einen größeren Teil des Bevölkerungsüberschusses absorbierte. Im Gebiet der Teekultur im östlichen Schwarzmeergebiet waren die Bedingungen ähnlich. Darüber hinaus allerdings konnte agrarische Expansion mit traditionellen Mitteln vor allem da stattfinden, wo bis zum Anfang unseres Jahrhunderts die Bergländer von Nomaden beherrscht waren, weil nomadische Lebensweise auch früher eine erheblich dünnere Gesamt-Bevölkerung zur Folge hatte. Das betraf große Teile des Taurus im Süden und Südosten Anatoliens. Diese späte Landnahme führte zwar zu zeitweiser demographischer Entlastung, hat allerdings bei den heutigen Anforderungen keine wirtschaftliche Chance. Weite Gebiete dieser jüngeren Gebirgssiedlung sind inzwischen aufgegeben oder werden wieder aufgegeben.

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heute jetzt: 1960-75; 1975-95

Abb. 3: Zu- oder Abnahme der ländlichen Bevölkerung 1975-90 nach Landkreisen/il?e (nach Genel Nüfus Sayimi 1990)

4. In Gebieten, wo immaterielle Gründe einer Abwanderung in die Städte des Westens entgegenstanden oder noch entgegenzustehen scheinen, nimmt die ländliche Bevölkerung bis an die Schwelle der Gegenwart zu. Das gilt insbesondere für die vorwiegend kurdisch besiedelten Teile Südostanatoliens. Die Sprachbarriere ist einerseits Hinderungsgrund selbst, andererseits hat sie lange Zeit zu einem erheblichen Rückstand im Schulbesuch und in der Schulbildung geführt, was natürlich die Berufschancen wiederum verringerte. In den achtziger und neunziger Jahren unseres Jahrhunderts scheint sich dieses ethnisch bedingte Zögern allmählich aufzulösen. Mit dem relativ geringen Stand moderner Bildung hängt der außerordentlich hohe Fertilitätsgrad der südostanatolischen Bevölkerung zusammen. Nach wie vor liegt hier die durchschnittliche Kinderzahl pro Frau etwa doppelt so hoch wie in der Westtürkei. 5. Die weiten Steppentafeln Zentralanatoliens oder des südostanatolischen Hügellandes, auch Thrakiens, sind zu unterschiedlichen Zeiten für den mechanisierten Anbau erschlossen worden. Generell hat sich dabei eine Tendenz des zeitlichen Fortschreitens von West nach Ost gezeigt. Die gegenwärtige Großaktion auszubauender Bewässerungsmöglichkeiten im Euphrat- und Tigris-Gebiet läßt zwar den Anteil derartiger Trockenfeldbau-Gebiete im Osten schrumpfen, dennoch bleiben sie quantitativ natürlich dominierend. In diesen Steppenlandschaften ist, wenn sie einmal für den mechanisierten Getreidebau erschlossen sind und sich keine Bewässerungsmöglichkeiten eröffnen, ein weiteres ländliches Bevölkerungswachstum kaum möglich. Hier liegen die Gebiete flächenhafter Abwanderung, die in Thrakien schon vor Jahrzehnten stattfand, in Zentralanatolien in den siebziger Jahren einsetzte und Südostanatolien in der Gegenwart erreicht. Hier im Südosten interferiert allerdings diese allgemeine zivilisatorische Entwicklung mit dem oben genannten Sprachproblem.

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6. Die Hauptgebiete des Anstiegs der Bevölkerung sind in der Gegenwart die Städte. Dieses Wachstum der Städte hat in den neunziger Jahren dazu geführt, daß in der Türkei die städtische Bevölkerung sehr deutlich die ländliche Bevölkerung überholt hat (vgl. Diagramm Fig. 1). Besonders stark ist das Wachstum der Metropolen, allen voran Istanbul. Aber auch Ankara und Izmir zeigen ein rasantes Wachstum, und mehrere Provinzstädte nähern sich der Millionengrenze oder haben sie schon erreicht. Von den kleineren Städten zeigen viele Provinzhauptstädte und die größeren Kreisstädte ein überdurchschnittliches Wachstum in den letzten Jahrzehnten, und zwar besonders dann, wenn man das Wachstum der um die Stadt herum liegenden Landkreise, also den randstädtischen Bereich, mit berücksichtigt. Die Bevölkerungsagglomerationen sind also vielfach noch größer als die derzeitigen administrativen Einheiten. Die Vorzüge der Stadt — naher Markt, Elektrifizierung, differenziertere Schulen, günstige Krankenversorgung, unterschiedlichste Arbeitsmöglichkeiten — gelten natürlich auch für die nähere Umgebung, und außerdem sind da die Baulandpreise günstiger. Die relativ hohen Wachstumsraten der stadtnahen Landkreise zeigen also nicht ländliche Verdichtung, sondern städtische Expansion an. Die Verstädterung gegen Ende des 20. Jahrhunderts Die rasch zunehmende Verstädterung der letzten drei Jahrzehnte hat auch einige soziologische Konsequenzen, die nicht unterschätzt werden sollten. Zunächst einmal zeigt sich ein deutliches Absinken der Geburtenrate bei der städtischen Bevölkerung. Zwar zeigt sich dieses Absinken richtig erst in der zweiten Generation, also bei den in der Stadt aufgewachsenen Kindern, aber es ist nicht zu übersehen. Noch in den sechziger Jahren lag der gesamttürkische Bevölkerungsüberschuß (Prozentsatz der Lebendgeburten minus Prozentsatz der Todesfälle) nach türkischer Statistik 1960-70 bei 2.5% pro Jahr, 1970-80 schon bei 2.31%, 1980-90 bei 2.36% und 1990-94 bei 1.98% pro Jahr, und somit fast schon im europäischen Durchschnitt (die letzte Zahl ist eine Prognose im Statist. Länderbericht Türkei 1994, 19, 29). Abgesehen von der Kriegszeit mit der niedrigen Quote von (194045) 1.1% war die höchste Quote bereits 1950-55 mit 3.1% erreicht. Seither sinkt die Zuwachsrate ständig, parallel zur wachsenden Verstädterung. Weiterhin hat das übersiedeln in die Stadt eine erheblich höhere Vielfalt in der Wahl möglicher Erwerbsquellen zur Folge. Gab es auf dem Land im wesentlichen nur Beschäftigungsmöglichkeiten in der Landwirtschaft, so gibt es jetzt eine große Zahl von Tätigkeiten für ungelernte Arbeitswillige. Sie sind zwar schlecht bezahlt, aber der Lebensstandard ist sicher noch besser als er auf dem Land möglich wäre. Eine nicht zu unterschätzende Rolle spielen bei der Übersiedlung in die Stadt die jungen Frauen. Entscheidend dürfte dabei sein, daß die neue städtische Ansiedlung fast nur in der Einzelfamilie üblich und möglich ist und die jungen Frauen damit der ständigen Beobachtung durch ihre Schwiegermütter entzogen sind. Auch wenn vielfach die Männer ihre Frauen erst nach einigem Fußfassen in der Stadt nachholen, dürfte der weibliche Einfluß auf den Übersiedlungsentschluß beträcht-

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lieh sein. Die traditionelle Großfamilie löst sich also immer mehr auf, ihre einst absichernde Funktion ist unter den heutigen Umständen nicht mehr notwendig. Diese heute rasch fortschreitende Emanzipation der Frauen findet unter anderem ihren Ausdruck darin, daß der Anteil der Frauen, die selber außerhäusliche Berufe ausüben, im Landesdurchschnitt mittlerweile europäisches Durchschnittsniveau erreicht hat (RITTER und TOEPFER 1992). Die Tatsache hebt die Türkei deutlich heraus gegenüber der Mehrzahl der anderen islamischen Länder. Die in den achtziger und neunziger Jahren aufkommende Mode des weiblichen Kopftuch-Tragens ändert an diesen Entwicklungen so gut wie nichts, in der Mehrzahl der Fälle ist das eine reine Äußerlichkeit. Die rasch zunehmende Verstädterung und damit West-Wanderung hat noch weitere Konsequenzen. Zunächst einmal zeigte sich in den zurückliegenden Jahrzehnten, daß ein großer Teil der Migranten nicht direkt in die größten Städte des Landes umsiedelte, sondern daß diese Wanderung in Etappen erfolgte. Bis in die achtziger Jahre hinein scheint im statistischen Mittel die Mehrzahl der Wanderungen zunächst einmal in die vertrauten näheren Städte geführt zu haben, bis dann, nach mehreren Jahren und nach gründlicher Information und Ausnutzung von Beziehungen, das übersiedeln in eine Metropole erfolgte. Dieser Typ der etappenweisen Übersiedlung scheint jedoch seit den achtziger Jahren abzuklingen. Die neueren Daten (RITTER und TOEPFER 1992) sprechen dafür, daß inzwischen die Mehrzahl der ländlichen Migranten direkt in die größeren Städte strebt. Zugleich hat sich das quantitative Verhältnis Stadt-Land so verschoben, daß inzwischen bereits die Emigration vom Dorf in die Städte zurücktritt hinter der Übersiedlung von kleineren in größere Städte. Die 'Verstädterung' allgemein scheint also von einer Art 'Vergroßstädterung' abgelöst zu werden. Die Konsequenzen dieser Entwicklung sind vielschichtig und noch gar nicht längerfristig abzusehen. Aber ziemlich sicher zeichnet sich ab, was PLANCK 1974 bereits die 'Verdörflichung orientalischer Städte' nannte: Der Bevölkerungsanteil mit zunächst noch ländlichen Lebenszielen, Gesellschafts- und Wohnvorstellungen nimmt in der rapiden Verstädterung vor allem in den Metroplen ständig zu. Verständlicherweise kommt die Stadtverwaltung in der Bereitstellung von Wohnraum und mit der nötigen Infrastruktur nicht nach. Die Neuankömmlinge wissen das durch vorher aktivierte Beziehungen und stellen sich darauf ein. Praktisch heißt das, daß man auf fremdem, meist staatlichem Gelände, in Eigenarbeit ein kleines Häuschen baut, und zwar ein Gecekondu (über Nacht gebaut), das die Stadt erst mal, wenn es nicht direkt aktuelle öffentliche Maßnahmen stört, stehen läßt. Nach Jahren kommt die Stadtverwaltung nach und installiert für ganze Straßen einen Wasseranschluß und baut Volksschulen, sorgt oft auch für die Elektrifizierung. Zur Sanierung der Bausubstanz reichen aber die öffentlichen Mittel bei weitem nicht, und so werden dann, meist vor anstehenden Wahlen, diese GeceKondu-Viertel legalisiert. Die Folge ist dann, daß diejenigen Hausbesitzer, die über etwas mehr Geld verfügen, anfangen, mehrstöckige Appartement-Häuser auf ihre Parzellen zu setzen und zu vermieten. Ehemalige Gecekondu- Viertel können also im Lauf der Zeit zu mehr oder weniger normalen Stadtvierteln werden, ihr länger bleibendes Kennzeichen ist nur der irreguläre Grundriß und die mangelhafte sanitäre Ausstattung.

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Dieses wilde Wachstum neuer, mehr oder weniger primitiver Stadtviertel erfordert einen gewissen Zusammenhalt der dorthin ziehenden Bevölkerung. Das kommt der ohnehin vorhandenen Bevölkerungsstruktur etwas entgegen. Verwandte und Freunde, Leute aus der gleichen Herkunftsregion, ziehen zusammen und wohnen beieinander. Soziologisch wird damit sozusagen das Dorf in die Stadt verpflanzt, obwohl dieser Vergleich nur begrenzt paßt. Es steht ja immerhin die Vielfalt legaler und halblegaler Erwerbsmöglichkeiten zur Verfügung, und der historische Kern der Metropole, wenn er von vielen auch selten aufgesucht wird, ist immerhin nahe und bekannt. Zudem ist das Leben ganz anders als auf dem Land: Die Abwesenheit der Männer tagsüber schafft eine etwas andere soziale Situation für die Frauen. Diese neuen Gecekondu-Viertel sind also wohl kein ganz schlechter Übergangsbehelf zur modernen städtischen Gesellschaft. Über den Anteil der Gecekondu-Bevölkerung schwanken die Angaben in den erreichbaren Statistiken, und sie schwanken auch in der Klassifikation der türkischen Verwaltung. Der Grund ist, daß jede (parteigebundene) Administration sich gezwungen glaubt, vor Wahlen einen möglichst großen Teil der Gecekondu-Siedlungen zu legalisieren. Diese tauchen damit zumindest in der Statistik nicht mehr auf. Dennoch haben — bedingt durch die starke Zuwanderung — Istanbul und Ankara einen Gecekondu-Ainteil, der fast bei der Hälfte der Wohnungen liegt. In anderen größeren Städten dürfte der Anteil ähnlich hoch sein. Bei kleineren Städten scheint der Anteil geringer, weil die Unterscheidungskriterien zwischen altstädtischen Häusern und Gece-Kondu-Häusem nicht so klar sind. Die einzige Region der Türkei, in der bis in die achtziger Jahre die Bevölkerung weitgehend in ihrer Region blieb und kaum in den Westen übersiedelte, war der Südosten des Landes. Der Zusammenhang mit der kurdischen Muttersprache ist offensichtlich. Allerdings bestand dieser Zusammenhang nicht direkt, wegen der Muttersprache allein wurde kaum jemand diskriminiert. Es gibt und gab schon immer eine große Zahl von Kurden in allen, auch in höheren Berufen. Der Grund lag vielmehr darin, daß die abweichende Muttersprache und die ganze damit verbundene altertümliche Einstellung bei der Masse der einfachen Menschen ein zivilisatorisches Handicap darstellten. Der schlichte Südostanatolier hatte zwar beim Militär einigermaßen türkisch gelernt, aber seine Frau nicht und die kleineren Kinder erst recht nicht, genausowenig wie seine Verwandtschaft. Für die Mehrzahl der Menschen bedeutete Übersiedlung nach Westen also zunächst Arbeit in einer fremden Welt und oft sozialen Abstieg. Diese Verhaltensweise der Masse der südostanatolischen Bevölkerung scheint sich allerdings in den achtziger und neunziger Jahren geändert zu haben. Man schätzt, daß inzwischen etwa die Hälfte aller Kurdisch-Sprecher im Westen Anatoliens leben, vor allem im Großraum Istanbul. Auch in der Innenstadt von Istanbul hört man inzwischen immer mehr (und unbefangener) Kurdisch neben Türkisch. Damit geht dem Südosten des Landes ein intellektuelles Potential verloren und gleichzeitig steigen — zumindest vorerst — die innertürkischen Konfliktstoffe der Gegenwart. Unter den im Osten zurückbleibenden konservativeren Bevölkerungsteilen wächst der prozentuale Anteil derjenigen, die für nationalistisch-kurdische Propaganda empfänglich sind.

The development of the working class in Turkey in the 20th century YILDIRIM K o g

Emergence of the working class There was wage-labor in the Ottoman Empire even during the 15th-16th centuries. In the construction of the Siileymaniye Mosque complex in the 1550-1557 period, 1.5 million work-days were worked by free wage-earners, in addition to 1.1 million work-days worked by 'acemi oglanlari' (newly recruited soldiers) and 140 thousand work-days by slaves Barkan 1972, 104, 105, 161). A strike of the construction workers in 1587 for wage increases is known (REFlK 1935, 73). One can even consider the uprisings of the janissaries for wage increases from 1444 onwards as a form of economic struggle of wage earners (KO£ 1992, 20-35). But all these were sporadic phenomena, and we cannot speak of a working class movement and struggle until the late 19th and the 20th centuries. The wageearners in the Ottoman Empire were mainly concentrated in construction, mining, agriculture and in various sectors of government industrial and administrative activity. Until the 19th century, had in a relatively privileged status, compared with the peasantry, resembling, to a certain extent, the contemporary labor aristocracy. Most of the Ottoman guild system disintegrated under the competition of European products. Some of the workplaces managed to survive European competition and adapted to the new conditions. In the 19th century, the majority of the artisans became either unemployed, or returned to the land, which was plentiful. Thus, the 20th century did not inherit the seeds of trade unions from the guild system in the form of journeymen's fraternities. In the absence of a well-developed indigenous industry, the majority of the apprentices, journeymen and some of the masters of the guilds did not turn into an industrial working class. At the beginning of the 20th century, there were neither large masses of direct producers deprived of land proprietorship, their means of production ('expropriated'), nor a powerful industrial capital ready and willing to exploit this free laborpower. Industrialization was mainly concentrated in Salonica and istanbul (QUATAERT 1995). There was scarcity of labor, wage-labor and skilled wagelabor; there was plenty of land almost free; and capital preferred to reap high rates of profit through trade, usury and government securities. The first known strikes of modern wage-earners in the 19th century were of Eregli Coal Mine workers in 1863 (ISSAWI 1980, 50-51) and telegraph workers of istanbul in February 1872 (SENCER 1969, 133). Although there is reference to strikes in the Police Regulation of 1845, the first explicit prohibition of strikes was in the Regulation for Railways in 1867 (Kog 1996b, 14-15). The first known organization of workers with an economic-political aim was the Ottoman Workers' Association (Amele-i Osmani Cemiyeti or Osmanh Amele

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Cemiyeti) of 1894-1895, of which we know very little. This illegal organization was soon discovered by the security forces and liquidated. Early 20th century At the beginning of the 20th century, the working class in the Ottoman Empire was very weak in many respects, quantitatively and qualitatively. The number of wage and salary earners was small; there was plenty of available land in relation to a small population and, thus, many of the wage- and salaryearners were not totally expropriated from their means of production, and the wars of national liberation waged against the Ottoman Empire during a period of its disintegration divided it, so that, in general, the workers of each ethnic group preferred to align themselves with their own bourgeoisie. Until 1908, the reactions of the workers were mainly individualistic and unorganized, not leading to a working class movement. Machine-breaking was also a very exceptional practice,1 since there was no modern industry replacing the artisanal activity and since there was plenty of land easily accessible. 1908 was a turning point in the political and social history of Turkey. It was a bourgeois democratic revolution without the active participation of the large masses of people. The uprising of the Unity and Progress Party (ittihat ve Terakki Firkasi) acted as a detonator and unleashed a wave of strikes, when any risk of reprisals from the government there was no question (KARAKI§LA 1995). There was no working class to wage a struggle for democracy against the autocracy of Abdiilhamit II. Although there were in the leading echelons of this Party many salary-earners, they acted not as part of the struggle of the working class, but as individuals in a party with a bourgeois democratic program. However, as in all cases when a crack within the ruling classes arises, the labor movement emerged. Quite differently from its counterparts in the industrialized countries, even this movement was not totally spontaneous. The socialists preceded the working class. The 1905 Russian Revolution had its impact and repercussions also in the Ottoman Empire, and the 1908 Revolution was followed by the socialists trying to organize and mobilize a nascent labor movement. New trade unions were created. Sometimes strikes preceded organization; sometimes organization preceded strikes. There was no clear-cut division of labor between trade unions and socialist parties. Trade-union activity was mainly concentrated in Salonica, istanbul and Zonguldak. Jews, Armenians and Greeks were especially active in trade union and socialist activity. The Workers' Federation of Salonica, comprising mainly Jewish workers, was a successful initiative (DUMONT 1994). However, this first spring of the labor movement was short-lived. The new Government, aware of the potential of the labor movement, prohibited in the public utilities the organization of trade unions and stipulated a stage of compulsory mediation before strikes. There was no regulation of industrial relations in the

' For a view on the contrary, see GUZEL (1990).

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other sectors of the economy. However, the sanctions of this Act, which was in force until 1936, were relatively mild. According to the censuses of industry carried out in the major cities of the Ottoman Empire (excluding agriculture, mining, railways, public utilities, construction and other services) in 1913 and 1915 in 264 enterprises employing at least 10 employees, there were 17 thousand employees in 1913 and 14 thousand in 1915. Only 15 percent of the employees were Moslems; 60 percent were Greeks, 15 percent Armenians and 10 percent Jews (SIS 1973, 143, 145). Vedat E L D E M estimates that the total numbers of employees not covered by these censuses of industry were 27.6 thousand in 1913 and 24.7 thousand in 1915, adding up to 44.0 thousand and 38.8 thousand in 1913 and 1915, respectively 2 (ELDEM 1970, 124-125). The workers employed in mining, construction and services were either semi-expropriated peasants or were scattered into very small workplaces. From 1913 onwards, all trade union activity was suspended. The Unity and Progress Party liquidated all independent trade union activity and tried to take under its own control any organization of the working people. Since there was no strong spontaneous movement of the working class, there was no important trade union activity and labor movement in the 1913-1919 period. During the First World War, the public servants lost about 60-80 percent of their purchasing power. Due to the severe labor shortage, the workers could preserve their gains; their loss of purchasing power during the War was about 2030 percent (ELDEM 1994, 54, 148).

The First World War cost the Ottoman Empire about 1.5 - 2.5 million lives. In addition to these, 764 thousand had been wounded ( E L D E M 1994, 132).3 This loss and the loss of the Greek and Armenian populations during WW I and following the Lausanne Treaty of 1923 had a very adverse impact on the development of the working-class movement in two ways. The expropriation process was reversed; many workers could and did acquire land and other property from those who died or left. The lack of skilled manpower and the deficiency of wage-labor prevented the fall of real wages, the wage- and salary-earners were in a relatively better position compared with the peasantry. The 1919-1923 period is outstanding for its lively trade union activity. There was, in this period, again a weakening of the established regime due to internal strife. The Ottoman Empire had collapsed. There was no powerful state apparatus to contain the discontent of the workers. The occupying powers had internal 2

3

(1970), pp. 124-125. The total population of the Ottoman Empire in 1914 was estimated as 18.5 million (15,044,846 Moslems; 1,792,206 Greeks; 1,294,831 Armenians; 187,073 Jews; 14,908 Bulgarians and 186,152 of other ethnic origins (AKBAYAR 1985, 1242). Yusuf Hikmet BAYUR estimates the human cost of WWI for the Ottoman Empire as follows: Killed in combat: 50,000; wounded in combat and died later: 35,000; dead due to diseases: 240,000; seriously wounded: 400,000; sick, deserters, lost: 1,565,000. 800,000 Armenians and 200,000 Greeks lost their lives during forced migration or while serving under forced labour (BAYUR, 1983, vol. 3, p. 787). Ahmet Bedevi KURAN'S estimates concerning the human loss in the 1908-1918 period are 550,000 dead, 891,364 disabled, 103,731 lost, 2,167,841 wounded, 129,644 captives ELDEM

(KURAN 1 9 5 9 , 7 7 2 ) .

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conflicts which the labor movement could benefit from. The War of Independence had started, further weakening the Ottoman Sultan. The forces of national liberation had support from the workers in Istanbul. The remnants of the Unity and Progress Party and the supporters of the war of national liberation were active in various demonstrations and strikes. The 1917 Russian Revolution had also an impact in Turkey. Socialists, communists and anarchists competed for the sympathy of an emerging, spontaneous, working class movement. But this spontaneous movement was very weak indeed and lacked a tradition of organization and struggle. Thus, it was prone to outside control. Socialists, communists, anarchists, the forces of national liberation and the remnants of the Unity and Progress Party on one side, governments on another side and employers on yet another side tried to organize and control the workers, who were generally the first generation of wage-earners and were not totally expropriated from their means of production. Although there were attempts to form organizations comprising workers of different ethnic origins, these were not successful. Cooperation of Anatolian Armenians with the Russians and the French during the First World War and occupation of western Anatolia by Greece in 1919 and the active cooperation of indigenous Greeks of Anatolia with the occupying forces led to a situation in which national consciousness predominated over nascent class consciousness. In 1919, the International Labor Organization (ILO) was established. Its establishment was based on the Versailles Treaty, but the same section existed also in the Sèvres Treaty. Since the occupation powers were the founders of the ILO, there was an air of freedom for the labor movement in istanbul. In Anatolia a war of life or death was being waged. There were only a limited number of workplaces in the areas under the control of the Ankara Government. The number of workers employed was accordingly very small. In Anatolia, all means were channeled into national liberation. National sentiments dominated over class interests. There were socialists and communists in Anatolia, with sympathy for the Russian Revolution. However, they could not find a 'working class for itself' to unite and direct towards socialism. In istanbul, some workers participated actively in the war of national liberation as individuals. Associations established by the Unity and Progress Party, directly or indirectly, were involved in the support for the war of national liberation; but these associations were not independent, genuine or bona fide organizations of the working class. During the 1911-1922 period, there was a division within the ranks of the working class, between blue- and white-collar workers. White-collar workers employed in the private sector benefited from the scarcity of educated labor-power and kept away from trade-union activity or struggle. White-collar workers employed in the public sector (public servants or civil servants) suffered low salaries, but held credited posts. However, they did not consider themselves part of the working class and pursued a bourgeois democratic program at the most. In the 1919-1922 period, the workers in the occupied capital of the Ottoman Empire enjoyed de facto extensive trade-union rights and freedoms. Many trade

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unions were formed. Some of them were under the direction and control of the socialists and communists; some were under employers' control. The Socialist Party of Turkey (Turkiye Sosyalist Firkasi) under the leadership of Hiiseyin Hilmi acted both as a trade union and a socialist party. The International Union of Workers (Beynelmilel t§giler tttihadi) was a multi-ethnic organization affiliated with the Profintern and in theory tried to pursue a line resembling the Industrial Workers of the World in the United States of America. The istanbul section of the Communist Party of Turkey, established in Baku on 9 September 1920, worked under the name of the Workers' and Peasants' Socialist Party of Turkey (Turkiye i§gi ve Qftgi Sosyalist Firkasi) and organized some trade-union activity. May Day was celebrated with enthusiasm. All this activity was the reflection and result of a working-class movement under the influence of various organizations external to it. The balance of forces and the division within the ranks of the ruling classes facilitated and even promoted actions of workers.4 Socialists and communists, in the wake of the international revolutionary tide and with the hope of contributing to the world revolution under the leadership of the Comintern endeavored to achieve the impossible. The Ankara Government, in 1921, enacted two laws to improve the working conditions of coal-miners in the Eregli Coal Basin. Poorly implemented, these laws were the messages of the Ankara Government to workers, although their scope was limited to workers employed by foreign mining companies. Early republican period (1923-1945) The War of National Liberation against the occupation powers and the Ottoman Empire ended with victory and the Republic of Turkey was established in 1923. A new and more formidable task of creating a modern nation and state on the principles of contemporary civilization awaited Mustafa Kemal and his friends. The Republic of Turkey started with a relatively small population, with depleted human and material resources due to wars in the 1911-1922 period. There was plenty of land, but skilled labor or labor of any kind was scarce. The migration caused by ethnic rivalries and the exchange of populations between Turkey and Greece under the Lausanne Treaty deprived the Republic of Turkey of both skilled labor-power and much of the accumulated experience in trade-union organization and struggle of the 1908-1922 period. 1923-1925 was a period of transition for the new regime. The fundamentalist and Kurdish nationalist uprising of §eyh Sait, with the support of the British, provided the necessary pretext to take the measures envisaged. The Republican People's Party strengthened its power and embarked on a policy of cutting ties 4

The Socialist Party of Turkey supported the strike of the tramway workers in 1920, allegedly by funds received from the British occupation forces, which was trying to weaken the French Tramway Company (TUNÇAY 1978, 79, 80, 82). The nationalist forces and its supporters in istanbul supported workers' organisations and actions, which they believed would be an ally. The cooperation with the Soviet Union led to tolerance for the activities of the socialist and communist groups, so long as they were not powerful enough to pose a threat.

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with the Ottoman past. Having the occupation forces out of Turkey, the Kemalist leadership concentrated its efforts on breaking with the Ottoman past. Kemalist reforms followed one another. The Kemalist governments were very dexterous in dealing with the working class. The Government faced a number of dilemmas. The Republic had inherited a religious community (emmett), a mosaic of ethnicities. This religious community had to be transformed into a modern nation. Political independence had been won; but preserving it required industrialization. Both processes vital for the Republic required a skilled workforce, devoted to new ideals of modernization. Anything that would obstruct this process had to be annihilated. The leaders of the War of National Liberation had to create their own working class, in addition to creating their own industrial bourgeoisie. They had inherited from the Unity and Progress Party the practice of forming and directing workers' associations under their own control. In Europe, when the bourgeoisie launched the struggle against the aristocracy in the late 18th century and the 19th century, there was a relatively developed working class. Trained in these struggles, the working class continued its fight for democracy in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In Turkey, the Kemalists' struggle for modernization was against the remnants of the past, and it was only through liberating the large peasant masses from the influence of the religious organizations that modernization could be achieved. Moreover, there was no working class sufficiently developed to assume and carry on the struggle for democracy. Thus, the Kemalist revolution was not and could not be democratic. But an indispensable element of modernization in Turkey was secularism, the basic weapon against the remnants of the Ottoman Empire and the basis of democracy and trade union rights and freedoms of the post WW II period. The working class in Turkey started to take part actively in the struggle for democracy only in the 1960s. On the other hand, there was the Comintern, a world communist party, with a Turkish section. With the transition from the expectation of a world revolution to the basic objective of preserving the Soviet Union ('Socialism in one country'), all the efforts of the Comintern and its sections were directed towards this goal and indexed to the foreign policy of the Soviet Union. Thus, any workers' association or trade union under communist leadership was considered by the Kemalists to be detrimental to the existence of the Republic of Turkey. The leaders of the Republic, while concluding a Treaty of Friendship with the Soviet Union, did not refrain from arresting the leadership of the Advancement of Labor Society {Amele Teali Cemiyeti) in 1925, for the leaflet distributed on the occasion of the May Day and of the Communist Party of Turkey. The Government launched a campaign to establish and modernize the new state. The Code of Obligations of 1926 replaced the Moslem Civil Code (Mecelle) of the Ottoman Empire, thus creating a capitalist system of labor-power sale and purchase. The dismantling of the superstructure of the Ottoman Empire through numerous legislative and administrative changes and reforms created the necessary preconditions for democracy and basic trade-union and workers rights

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and freedoms. General suffrage was also granted as a component of the modernization process, rather than as a result of the struggles of the working class. However, it could not be an effective weapon of the working people until the end of WWII. During the first 2.5 decades of the Republic, the Government pursued a very keen policy of dividing the working class by forming a labor aristocracy. Even the skilled blue-collar workers in the public sector were employed in the status of civil servant and were granted basic rights and a good salary. In 1931, for instance, civil servants constituted only 1.2 percent of the workforce, but received 7.1 percent of the national income (BORATAV 1989, 300; OMURGONSEN 1990). They had job security, social security, paid annual leave, etc (Ko