Postmodernity and the Arc of Turkish Identity

Ferhat Kentel, Professor at Istanbul Sehir University / PHOTO from the Balkans Project

The Balkans Project recently featured a fascinating interview with Ferhat Kentel, a sociologist at Istanbul Sehir University. Working on the construction of Turkish national identity, Kentel is examining one of the most controversial and heuristic themes in Turkish politics -- in many ways, a theme that defines, and most certainly pervades, every aspect of political discourse, be it Turkey's efforts to come to terms with its minorities (Muslim and non-Muslim), its attempts to reconcile Islam and the Turkish naton-state, its ongoing EU accession process, its confrontration with ultra-nationalist elements like Ergenekon, its international relations, etc. I have provided excerpts in this post, though I most definitely recommend reading though the whole interview.

This new situation is not just about the disappearance of the old Turkish national identity. Someone can feel that he or she is Kurdish, another Turkish, another Moslem, and these all together. All are negotiating identities. Turkishness is a negotiation as well. It becomes a crisis situation for the integration and unity of this society. I am working on this polarization between the early national construction and the new emerging complex identities and trying to find if there is a possibility of a new language, another way of speaking about this society.

I’m not just focusing on identity, but also people’s relationship with everyday life. Everyday life is the humus that lies beneath these identities. These different identities emerge from everyday life.

What does it mean to be a Turk today? The most prominent aspect of this established modern identity is a defensive one. When it emerged at the end of the Ottoman Empire, Turkishness was new. It was promoted in the name of a modernizing subject, in the name of enlightenment. It was connected to the creation of a new modern nation-state, to Ataturk, to Kemalism, to secularism, to the flag. To be Turkish was to be something modern. But today, it is more and more defensive. It refers to an older time. For that reason, it is more and more aggressive against the new voices.

Kentel goes onto discuss the origins of Turkish national identity, and the haven Muslims in the Balkans found here in the face of Christian racism and European nationalism following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. As Kentel notes, these Turks are the most keen to identify themselves as Kemalists, and eager to embrace Turkey as a newfound home, largely left their old identities behind for something new and modern. In the epigram of his epilogue to Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945, Tony Judt quotes Ernest Renan:

Forgetting, I would even go so far to say historical error, is a crucial factor in the creation of a nation; thus the progress of historical studies is often a danger for national identity . . . The essence of a nation is that all individuals have many things in common, and also that they have forgotten many things.

Turks, like other European nations, have forgotten many things. At the same time, what awaited those immigrants was a refuge from the discrimination, suffering, and war they had known in the past; in Turkey, they found a new home. Kentel's analysis of ultranationalists is different: not having immigrated from the Balkans, they were often left outside of the Kemalist project. According to Kentel, ultranationalists generally look to the Caucasus and Asia for their roots, often pointing to Central Anatolia as the origin of Turkish identity. Yet, I have met plenty of people who share both perspectives, often the products of mixed marriages between Balkan and Anatolian Turks, merely all the more proving Kentel's argument of the negotiation, multiplicity, and inherent complexity underlying Turkish national identity.

Kentel also explores the lack of understanding between Turks and Turkish minority groups, who are all too routinely bifurcated from one another in the literature into the oversimplified categories of "majority" and "minority." One need only to look at Hrant Dink to see how reality is far more complicated. Dink, proud of his Armenian heritage, never rejected his "Turkishness," but rather understood it differenty; sadly, it was this "different" understanding that led to his murder by people who adopted a defensive understanding of what it meant to be Turkish, and in turn, conspired to kill Dink. Similar kinds of negotiation and multiplicity also hold true for Kurds, Alevis, Greeks, Circassians, Laz, Roma, all of these groups and the diverse individuals in them approaching what it means to be Turkish differently. Many of the identities overlap, and few break down into the nice, neat categories in which they are often placed. Yet, for those Turks who did leave so much of their history behind, the issue of settling these multiple identities and the insistence that they be recognized is difficult. Kentel explains:

These Balkan-origin Turks are also the most reticent on the Kurdish issue. It seems to be a psychological dimension: These Turks left behind their traditional sense of belonging, so they cannot accept another people claiming their original identity. “We gave up ours,” they say, “why can’t you give up yours?” I hear this even from the Uyghur-origin people who came to Turkey during the last decades. “We were oppressed by the Chinese state,” they say. “We came to Turkey and this state protected us. We cannot betray this state. How can you Kurds do what you are doing?” Of course, the Kurds were not migrants to this country. Nor were the Armenians. They are autochthonous peoples of the Anatolian territories.

Holding the traditional/pre-modern construction of Turkish national identity in opposition to the modern, Atatürkist understanding, Kentel highlights the conflicts and convergences between the two. Though Kentel does dwell too much on Ottomanism in his analysis, I think it too is probably worth examining in the mix, conflicting and converging with the other two in all sorts of ways relevant to political identity. And when religion is added into the mix, identity becomes all the more complicated, pushing and pulling with all of these other elements in what I have described elsewhere in this blog as a kaleidoscopic fashion, shifting and turning to suit the situation at hand or whatever the mood of the moment may be. Identity not being something intractable and constant, but rather adaptable and changing, Turks may well be all the richer for the multi-dimensional complexity of their specific identity(ies) despite the difficulties in its negotiation.

And, yet, though Turks have long negotiated these identities, and too often with a good bit of phobic defensiveness, the increased travel and business between countries (which Kentel assesses as weakening the defensive posture of Turkish nationalism -- see my post, "Article 301: An Imperialist Discourse," on the Sevres syndrome), the rise of political Islam, and European discourses about a postnational, multicultural Europe have all drastically pushed that negotiation into a new realm. I perhaps too optimistically evaluate the role of Europe, but the former two have certainly had a tremendous impact on just what observers of Turkish politics are seeing. Yet, as Kentel describes, this "opening" is not unqualified.

There are two contradictory tendencies, each one feeding and reinforcing the other. As we open up, the fear inside becomes more intense. Imagine all the people living under this ideology that says that we are alone, that we are superior, but that everyone fears us. What do you with the burden of this ideology? The opening of frontiers – in the world at large and in our minds – radicalizes the Turkish defensive identity. We are now living in the middle of this clash.

What I mean by a new Turkish identity is not just a global, liberal, or cosmopolitan identity. It is more complex. Part of this new identity is the overcoming of the ruptures of Kemalism. Kemalism required a rupture with the Ottoman era that defined it as an ancien regime. It involved a rupture around borders. It created a Turkishness on this territory with Arabs, Kurds, and others, but this required a rupture with the Arabs of Arabia, the Kurds of other countries and so on. Today it is not necessary for a nation-state to isolate itself this way. Our task is to reconstruct the bridges with all those populations and histories with which we have ruptured.

This new identity is looking for new words, new definitions.

As Barrington Moore described the transition to democracy as wrought with discord and violence, so perhaps is the journey to new, more open, more complex cultural identities. Much has been made of the rise of ultranatonalism in Turkey in recent years, the street protests and ethnic clashes that have erupted on the streets of Turkey's cities with an unwielding, defensive sort of hatred (see Ece Temelkuran n the Guardian, 2007); yet, is this perhaps a sign that things are getting better, that Turkey is moving forward in some sort of cultural transition of which we have yet to see the arc?

Provocatively, Kentel lays out a possible journey, eschewing cosmpolitianism, liberalism, and racist traditionalism for something far more intriguing -- and perhaps, liberating.

So we can make a three-fold distinction. The first is cosmopolitanism or the loss of specific Turkishness. The second is the concentration, redefinition, and reshaping of Turkishness in a more racist way. And the third is an open-ended alternative: we don’t know where we are going but there is another way. This third situation, the creation of new meanings, is the revolutionary tendency.

This new identity, if we summarize, is made also by linking to the past. It doesn’t involve returning to the past but, rather, struggling against the ruptures of history, against the categorizations of old/new, rational/irrational and so on, and against all the modernist constructions created by these categories.

Examining the construction of Turkish identity as affected by a series of historical ruptures, Kentel goes onto explore how Islam is bringing to light the ruptures of Kemalism.

Right now society is caught midway between Islam and modernity. Or, rather, there is no distinction between Islam and modernity as it was defined by modernist approaches. When you listen to some Islamic actors who focus on the authenticity of the Islamic message, they say that the majority of Muslims are lost now, that they have become almost like Protestants, that they only think about symbols of wealth, that they have lost the original message of the religion. But other, modernist voices inside the Islamic universe say that, no, the religion is not frozen in the 7th century, that Moslems as individuals must adapt to the new situation. This is a more liberal, maybe “Protestant” Islam, more individualized. They don’t forget that they are Moslem. They are still good believers. “I am essentially a businessman,” this kind of believer will say. “But five times a day I pray and then it is finished. My practice of Moslemhood doesn’t take more than one hour a day.” There is no difference with people who do gymnastics for one hour a day or do Indian meditation. This person’s identity is that of a businessman first.

So, they are not just Moslems, but they have a class position too. The Moslem businessmen’s union and the labor union of Moslem workers do not necessarily share the same communitarian Moslemhood. They are in conflict. The bourgeois Moslems say, “We are all Moslems, so accept your salary.” But the workers say, “No, we are not all Moslem brothers. You are rich and we are poor!”

There was a declaration recently launched by three Moslem women. “We are not free yet,” they said, referring to the liberalization of headscarves for a couple months before the constitutional court forbad them again. During this period, they said, “We will not be free until the Armenians, the Kurds, the Alevis are free too. We will not be free until the rights of shipyard workers are recognized.” They are very Moslem. They wear headscarves. They dream of living in an Islamic society in which Islam is recognized totally. But in their minds there are other possibilities for how to live with others. If someone doesn’t want to wear a headscarf, she is free to do so. This is something new. This is not the traditional Islam or the Islam of Kemalism. This third version has links with the new Turkish identity, which in turn has links to the past. They are important actors for this new Turkishness. Their Turkishness is not defensive. It is not racial. They are Turkish because they live in Turkey.

Turkey can be perceived as a model or a laboratory for the whole world.

Just what that model will be or laboratory yield remains to be seen, but it truly is incredible, not to mention intellectually humbling, to be the midst of it.

More Musing About Illiberal Turkey & "Neighborhood Pressure"

Professor Binnaz Toprak of Boğaziçi University recently released the results of a survey of "neighborhood pressure" in Anatolian cities. The survey was conducted in conjunction with the Open Society Institute, and its subjects are self-identified secular university students who the research finds to experience social pressure when moving into conservative neighborhoods. The report is entitled "Being Different in Anatolia." BIA-Net quotes from Professor Toprak's conclusion of the survey's findings:

“Our finds show that overcoming the oppressive conservatism of the ruling power does not play a transforming role in making people more respectful to the rights and freedoms of the people who live in these places. On the contrary, when the process by the Justice and Development Party (AKP) to put its own people in the bureaucratic positions combines with the religious-community structuring and the activities in the Anatolian cities, we think the environment that exists now causes more worries when looked from these perspectives.”

BIA-Net documents reaction to the research, which hardly eschews the political in its design, execution, or findings. "Neighborhood pressure" is a commonly cited concern of some secularists, many of whom cited the phenomenon last year as reason for their opposition to the AKP-MHP passed legislation enabling women to wear headscarves at university.

Criticism of Toprak's research includes claims that the research question is not new, and conceptually muddles "social pressure" and "intolerance" (see Emre Uslu and Önder Aytaç), forgoes meaningful explanation of the intolerance it identifies (see Şahin Alpay), and ignores intolerance, bigotry, and social pressure as dilemmas not only related to Islam, but also the values of fanatical secularism and hardcore nationalism (Alpay). The last of these criticisms are also present in this Hürriyet op/ed, which is authored by one of Toprak's former students. Appropriately, the op/ed concludes with qualified optimism:

Unfortunately, some conservative commentators, which have praised previous works by Professor Toprak, now criticize her severely and argue that the "neighborhood pressure" is imaginary. They should have done better. Because pressure is a very personal thing: only you decide whether you face it or not. By this dismissive attitude, those conservatives only mirror the lack of empathy that the secularists show when it comes to the official pressure on veiled women. That’s why we should take Dr. Toprak’s findings seriously. But we should also not exaggerate them. First of all, this is a targeted research, not a random survey. In other words, the interviewees went out to find out those specific groups that could be under neighborhood pressure. So, it does not give a full picture of the country.

In fact, there are many signs showing that Anatolia is actually less conservative today than it used to be. It is more business-oriented, its women are more integrated into society, and it is more open to the world. But perhaps it is this very dynamic which creates a tension. Maybe the clash between the secular establishment and the AKP boils down in society to the tension between the mosque community and beer hall crowd. Maybe, because of their political ascendancy, the conservatives are now more self-confident and triumphant. These are all speculations, since Dr. Toprak’s research does not tells us much about the conservative side of the picture. We would be misleading ourselves by ignoring the complexities there.

We would also be misleading ourselves by thinking that the conservatism in question comes all from religion. The survey tells us that among the "inappropriate" behaviors in Anatolia, there is not just consuming alcohol or "eating during Ramadan", but also speaking Kurdish. "Kurdish youth who are called on their cell phones in a bus by their relatives who don’t speak Turkish," the research says, "decide not to take the call". And allergy to Kurdish is not an Islamic reaction -- it is a nationalist one.The problem, then, is actually a lack of tolerance to anything that is different. And, alas, that is the problem of the whole of Turkey! Not just the religious conservatives but also the secularists are very, very, intolerant. That’s why neighborhood pressure exists everywhere, from conservative and parochial towns to secular and chic plazas. In the former, the headscarf is the demanded norm. In the latter, it is the expelled heresy.

So, you may ask, if it is such a nation of illiberals, is Turkey simply hopeless?

Not really. I think we are still making progress. In the past, one illiberal camp -- the secular Kemalists -- had dominated the whole society. Now we have two illiberal camps clashing with other. That is better, because it paves the road to pluralism. The optimistic scenario is that these two warring camps will wear themselves out, and, over time, come to a live-and-let-live consensus. And the pessimistic scenario? Well, it is that we will be trapped in this cultural civil war, for ever and ever.

The question as to whether the clash between two rather illiberal camps is capable of making Turkey a more pluralistic society is certainly one worth poring over, but politics and institutions have a long way to go until both Turkish state and society are comfortable with accommodating differences.

The Pleasures and Guilts of Wealth: New Money and What to Do With It

One of New York Times correspondent Sabrina Tavernise's recurring themes is that of Turkey's emerging religious middle classes, and her insight into this new elite is on full display in this article from today's NYT. From the article:

Money is at the heart of the changes that have transformed Turkey. In 1950, it was a largely agrarian society, with 80 percent of its population living in rural areas. Its economy was closed and foreign currency was illegal. But a forward-looking prime minister, Turgut Ozal, opened the economy. Now Turkey exports billions of dollars in goods to other European countries, and about 70 percent of its population lives in cities.

Religious Turks helped power that rise, yet for years they were shunned by elite society. That helps explain why many are engaged in such a frantic effort to prove themselves, said Safak Cak, a Turkish interior designer with many wealthy, religious clients. “It’s because of how we labeled them,” he said. “We looked at them as black people.”

Mr. Cak was referring to Turkey’s deep class divide. An urban upper class, often referred to as White Turks, wielded the political and economic power in the country for decades. They saw themselves as the transmitters of the secular ideals of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, Turkey’s founder. They have felt threatened by the rise of the rural, religious, merchant class, particularly of its political representative, Turkey’s prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan.

“The old class was not ready to share economic and political power,” said Can Paker, chairman of the Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation, a liberal research organization in Istanbul. “The new class is sharing their habits, like driving Mercedes, but they are also wearing head scarves. The old class can’t bear this.”

“ ‘They were the peasants,’ ” the thinking goes, Mr. Paker said. “ ‘Why are they among us?’ ”

Ms. Aydin, 40, who wears a head scarf, encountered that attitude not long ago in one of Istanbul’s fanciest districts. A woman called her a “dirty fundamentalist” when Ms. Aydin tried to put trash the woman had thrown out her car window back inside.

“If you’re driving a good car, they stare at you and point,” Ms. Aydin said. “You want to say, ‘I graduated from French school just like you,’ but after a while, you don’t feel like proving yourself.”

She does not have to.

Her father started by selling curtains. Now he owns one of the largest home-appliance businesses in Europe. Ms. Aydin grew up wealthy, with tastes no different from those of the older class. She lives in a sleek, modern house with a pool in a gated community. Her son attends a prestigious private school. A business school graduate, she manages about 100 people at a private hospital founded by her father. Her head scarf bars her from employment in a state hospital.

Her husband, Yasar Aydin, shrugged. “Rich people everywhere dislike newcomers,” he said. In another decade, those prejudices will be gone, he said.

The businessmen describe themselves as Muslims with a Protestant work ethic, and say hard work deepens faith.

“We can’t lie down on our oil like Arab countries,” said Osman Kadiroglu, whose family owns a large candy company in Turkey, with factories in Azerbaijan and Algeria. “There’s no way out except producing.”

Tavernise also briefly touches on how this newly emergent middle class is dealing with their new money status, and religious dictates that one should not consume more than one needs. Tavernise observes many wealthy and religious Turks justify the purchasing of extravagances by complementing such acquisitions with generous donations to religious charities (like Deniz Feneri). For full article, click here.

In my mind is Dutch painter Pieter Aertsen's juxtaposition of sinful meats and mussels alongside less lavish foods of piety, like bread and fish. For more on Islamic Calvinism and Turkey's religious classes, see the European Stability Initiative's 2005 report on the subject. For more on class politics in Turkey, see my June analysis of a 2005 law prohibiting newly arrived "black Turks" -- by no means the Islamic Calvinists referred to by Tavernise as buying fancy sinks and curtains -- from swimming in their underwear.

Intellectuals, Party Politics, and Hopes for the Future

Mümtaz'er Türköne examines intellectuals' relationship to politics, specifically the CHP. While holding intellectuals to task for adopting the same elitism as CHP members, Türköne acknowledges many to have supported AKP because of the party's pro-democracy and pro-EU agenda. Türköne is responding to a column by Oral Çalışlar in the leftist Radikal in which Çalışlar laments the emerging pro-establishment --meaning more nationalist/statist -- position of AKP, a development which has come to concern many progressive intellectual reformers as of late.

As CHP moves further to the right in its efforts to reach out to religious Turks, many of whom live outside the country's urban centers or are recent immigrants to the cities, AKP seems to be more accepting of CHP's pro-military/nationalist positions (and, before this, overly-concerned with its socially conservative base). Where does this leave pro-democracy intellectuals, who Türköne identifies with the left, and who have before supported AKP as a result of its liberal democratic credentials? At the moment, Turkey has no center-left party (see Erik Zürcher's recent critique of Turkish politics). While AKP can be aptly, though perhaps not adequately, explained as a center-right party (the party is economically and socially conservative), CHP is traditionally regarded as the establishment bastion of the Turkish left. However, CHP is more staunchly nationalist than it is pro-labor, more concerned with preserving Kemalist understandings of secularism --and, frequently, even ethnic solidarity -- than it is with promoting economic and social rights. Neither party is willing to aggressively address the issue of rights for ethnic and religious minorities, gender inequities, or draconian restrictions on the freedom of expression. Türköne intimates that intellectuals would be best represented by a third party, but in the end concludes that in the absence of a party, AKP is still the best hope. From Türköne:

Because of the elitist tradition on which it has relied, the CHP has failed to appeal to all of society and has not overcome its image as a bureaucratic party destined to always act as an opposition party. This was a problem of not only the CHP, but also intellectuals, who, like the CHP, are the products of the elitist tradition. However, intellectuals have a greater dilemma than the CHP. This is because intellectuals are accepted as intellectuals to the extent that they appeal to society. Unlike the CHP, they have to do things beyond this elitist tradition in order to advocate freedom, democracy and the rule of law. This accounts for why intellectuals cannot join the CHP, but at the same time, have problematic relations with conservative and traditional circles.

As the CHP reviews its elitist past, intellectuals are discussing their problems with the Justice and Development Party (AK Party). Having supported the AK Party against the militarist and bureaucratic political guardianship, intellectuals are now questioning this support.

In Turkey, being an intellectual makes you automatically leftist. As the term "left" or "leftist" are preferred concepts in Turkey, these intellectuals tend to define themselves as "democrats." Although this designation is used for a different reason, it means "liberal" as it does in the US Democratic Party. The designation of "democrat" is used out of habit or for convenience for these intellectuals, most of whom are former Marxists. Oral Çalışlar, a Radikal columnist, says the number of these intellectuals is "40 or 50 at most," but this is not a small number either. As an intellectual acts as a translator for the feelings and tendencies of the masses who cannot express them, this figure is rather high. To dispel any doubt, we may also provide some names. This is a long list including Ahmet Altan, who ruthlessly shoulders the entire burden alone, the Altan brothers, Eser Karakaş, Şahin Alpay and Cengiz Çandar.

. . . .

First, we need to question the frequently voiced theses that "The AK Party is not democratic" and "Everyone seeks democracy for only their own community." How can one suggest that a political party -- not only the AK Party, but also the CHP and the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) -- do not support democracy, which is their raison d'être? How can intellectuals, who are supposed to defend freedom against all sorts of power, yield to democracy, i.e., the rule of the people? Isn't there a problem with the description "a democratic intellectual who says the AK Party is not democratic"?

Our political system, which we call a representative democracy, is run through political parties. When you take political parties out of the system, there remains nothing that we can call democracy. Democracy is what makes parties exist. Parties are what make democracy exist. The description "a party that is not democratic," which Çalışlar is comfortable using, is not quite accurate. If he refers to "intra-party democracy," it is an altogether different topic. The political system that is up and running inside political parties is a product not of the Political Parties Law, but of the political culture of the nation.

For full article, click here.


An AKP stalwart, Türköne's conclusion is far from surprising, but interesting is his resignation at the structure of political parties. Türköne discounts the important role played by emerging Turkish civil society groups operating at the grassroots, and seems to suggest political parties to be the only driving force in democratic politics, in Turkey or otherwise. Attacking Çalışlar's position on political parties, Türköne argues that their predominance in Turkish politics has more to do with political culture than it does with the Political Parties Law. While this may indeed be the case, an issue addressed in my post two days ago about youth participation in politics, it does not mean that Turkish political leaders should not promote a more participatory polity.

Political culture is not static, and in Turkey, seems to be on the verge of recovery. Türköne's argument that intellectuals are best served by AKP may indeed be the case when it comes to the ballot box, but it is their engagement with the party outside of the dictatorial normal politics of inner-party decision making in which lie the best prospects for Turkish democracy. The development of a vibrant and diverse civil society is precisely what is needed in Turkey because the political party system is so impoverished, and one of the reasons for this poverty is the exact same party-centric view Türköne perpetuates. As Turkish citizens from a variety of religious and ethnic backgrounds, social classes, and political groups come to participate more in politics, Turkish political parties will in turn become more diverse, and consequently, more sophisticated in their understanding and approach to politics -- regardless of whether these citizens cover their heads, speak Kurdish, or practice heterodox forms of Islam. Increased participation in and organization of Turkish civil society should translate to increased demands for better representation, and demands for better representation are the only hope that a more democratic party politics might one day come to pass.

The Politics of Underwear

PHOTO from Milliyet: These İstanbul beachgoers are protesting new laws aimed to crack down on the bathing habits of poorer İstanbulular. Holding signs declaring that not all are able to afford nice swimsuits, they argue İstanbul's poor should not be discriminated against. After all, we all just want to swim, right?


I had not heard of this debate until today, but apparently there was much ado in the summer of 2005 concerning the swimming habits of the poorer sectors of İstanbul's population. Appalled by men swimming in their underwear and women wearing full chadors on the beach, the city's elite soon organized enough pressure to pass a municipal reform making it illegal to swim in one's underwear and requiring that women not cover their legs while taking a dip. Another matter of sartorial politics, the underwear controversy is an interesting illustration of the class conflicts between "white Turks" and "black Turks." So, despite the fact that this happened in 2005, it is an interesting complement to the recent news on the türban.

The so-called "white Turks" represent the established, most often secular elite of Turkey's old guard and have proudly adopted a cosmopolitan, European-type lifestyle. As Karl Vick's reportage in the Washington Post includes, they eat fish, not the traditional kebap. (Although, I am sure they eat plenty of kebap.) The opening pages of Orhan Pamuk's İstanbul give a wonderful description of what it means to be a "white Turk." Pamuk writes of his childhood contemplation of the sitting rooms devoted to Western culture in which he used to play as a child—their museum-like qualities and the pianos that went unplayed.

In contrast, the "black Turks" represent the rural poor who began to move into the cities as early as the 1950s and whose presence began to be viewed as a serious threat to the European-type Turkish identity as their immigration accelerated in the 1980s. They are seen as less refined by their "white Turk" counterparts and still hold tightly to the customs of the countryside they brought with them. From the article:

The flap appeared to begin with a screed that a columnist unleashed in the July 27 issue of the newspaper Radikal. Mine G. Kirikkanat, a very white Turk, began by writing about how proud she was of Istanbul's shiny international airport, which "lights up Turkey's 'non-Arab' face."

But the drive into the city, she wrote, was something else. In the parks along the shore road toward town, "men in their underwear rest ruminating, women wearing black chadors or headscarves all are fanning the barbecue. ... This view is repeated every 10 meters square, our dark people cooking meat by the sea that they turn their [behinds] toward."

"Carnivore Islamistan," the columnist dubbed the scene, capturing in a brutal phrase the major fault line of class and politics in modern Turkey.

If the kebab is the staple food of Anatolia, the white Turks native to Istanbul prefer sea bass, bluefish and other delicate catches of the two seas that bracket the city and the Bosporus Strait in between. And this, too, has caused consternation.

But while the men were branded as offensive for being undressed, their wives were deemed unsuitable for wearing the long cloaks favored by religious Muslim women. Modern Turkey, though 99 percent Muslim, was founded in 1923 as a secular republic, and was led by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the dashing military hero who conceived the nation-state from the ashes of the Ottoman Empire. Ataturk embraced the French definition of secularism — not so much neutral toward all faiths as antagonistic toward public expressions of the dominant religion.

In Turkey, female government employees are forbidden to wear the head scarves that, despite the official line, a majority of Turkish women wear, some out of tradition, others for religious reasons. Ataturk favored tuxedos, cigarettes and pinups of models in bikinis.

"We are Ataturk's women!" shouted Mine Okcugil, 38, clasping the hand of the woman in the chaise lounge next to her at Caddebostan. Her own bikini was in danger of falling off her front. She works at the Agriculture Ministry.

"We are all modern women of the republic," said Semra Aydemir, 52, a retired teacher, also in a tiny two-piece. "We are against terrorism. We are against violence. We are against ugliness."

So it is that men and women roaming the beach in T-shirts reading "Security" keep an eye peeled not only for men wearing too little but for women wearing too much. Female beach-goers no longer are allowed to wade with their legs covered by flowing fabric.

The immigrant population represented by the "black Turks" is still struggling in its coming to terms with urban life and integration of the two groups has been quite difficult, thus giving birth to the bizarre (and racist) terminology. The difficulty is owed to poverty (European tastes are expensive), a lack of social mobility, and a resentment on the part of the "white Turks" that stifles opportunities for the kinds of social interactions between classes that would facilitate integration. This resentment is quite well-portrayed in the article and is also seen in the türban debate (see Feb. 19 post). Some of this lack of integration is also no doubt owed to the fact that these "black Turks" do not necessarily want to adopt the lifestyle of their "white Turk" counterparts.

However, this division is very much a simplification, and as is often the case in Turkish politics, it is the complication of simplifications in which meaning can be found. Take the case of Abdullah Gül who in many ways is more cultured and sophisticated than the "white Turks" who oppose him. Gül is a pious Muslim who devoutly observes Ramazan and namaz, gives money to Islamic schools and charities, and has a spouse who opts to wear the türban (although his detractors say Ms. Gül has been coerced). At the same time, he was educated in Europe, wears sharp suits, and is well-known for his business knack. Like many AKP politicians and their supporters, he represents what has been called the new Islamic middle class. This new class represents a fissue in the social order as it does not easily fit within the "white"/"black" divide. Insomuch as this fissue threatens the social order, it disturbs the "white Turks." The fissure has also generated a politics of fear that pervades Turkish politics, most significantly in regard to secularism.

Whether it is swimming in underwear or donning a türban at university, the "white Turks'" fear of losing control of the social realities with which they are accustomed and comfortable is very much the driving factor behind these odd restricitions. Already uncomfortable with difference, the "white Turks" are being pressed to find new approaches to settling the fact that not all sectors of Turkish society can or do share their tastes, values, and customs. As evidenced by the recent türban decision, the approach so far has largely been the old, reliable authoritarian one: refusal to acknowledge and/or negotiate difference. The sniveling is only likely to increase.

And, just as an aside, I have been to European beaches. . . and, yes, along with others, swam in my underwear. No one seemed to care. Why is it an issue in Turkey?

Turkish Exceptionalism and the Democratizing Periphery

The recent spat between CHP and Joost Lagendijk is embarassing indeed, but what lies behind it is even more troubling. As I have written before, what I find most interesting about Turkey are its many ironies, but chief among these is perhaps the most bitterly painful: in Turkey, it is the once westward-looking, "white Turks" who are most opposed to democratization, the very people who often seem, well, most like "us." In many ways, this paradox might be seen as having tremendous creative potential for how we view democratization, for the modernization theories of Huntington and Rostow are most surely proven false in the Turkish case. Although Turkey's bourgeois Kemalist elite has grown strong and even expanded, the true impetus for democratization is not the further strengthening and expansion of this group, but rather its being challenged. Ihsan Dagı's recent column in Today's Zaman tells the narrative most poignantly (excerpt):

In the EU integration process it is impossible to preserve the old order. The West and the continuing Westernization that comes with the EU accession process, therefore, pose an existential threat to the Jacobin bureaucratic-civilian elite, which adheres to a notion of a homogenized nation and the practices of authoritarian state.
But it was the Kemalists who used to be fans of the West and Westernization. At least we know it as such. Yet what the Kemalists understood by Westernization was merely a cultural adoption of the Western life style for a certain purpose. That is, this new lifestyle differentiated them from the masses, who were traditional and Eastern/Islamic looking. They were the vanguard, chosen to enlighten a nation that was in darkness. Theirs was a kind of "white man's burden." Cultural Westernization was an act of exclusion of the traditional by which a boundary was erected between the state elite and the masses, who were poor, culturally backward and religious. Out of this symbolic oppression, the elite's right to rule was constructed, justified and reproduced over the years.

The West and the process of Westernization, however, gained new dimensions in time, especially after 1999, when Turkey declared itself a candidate country for the EU. They were no longer a means to dictate the rule of the Kemalist-secularists and control the masses.

The result thus was a struggle between the democratic periphery who wanted to end its bondage and the authoritarian center, which was determined to defend its privileges. As the former "utilized" the EU proces s, the latter resisted it on the grounds that the EU process was a plot to divide Turkey in the name of minority rights and undo secularism in the name of democracy.

This meant, for the Kemalist-secularist elite, abandoning Westernization, a process they had initiated. It was wise for them to do so, given the fact that the process of Westernization after 1999 continued on a different path. It involved more political and economic transformation than cultural change. That is to say that Westernization in the EU context meant transfer of power from the state elite to the people. Thus, the public at large and the peripheral forces in the Turkish economy and politics moved in to take the process of Westernization to its logical end: the formation of a liberal democracy. The objectives of Westernization, for the first time in history, have begun to be pursued by social and economic forces from below.

The idea of top-down democratization has simply proved false in Turkey, a country which has long since taken off economically, but whose Kemalist elite seem no closer than they did in the 1950s to adopting fully democratic norms. Indeed, contra the traditional model of democratization, which still seems to be in vogue among neoconservatives intent to remake the world without opening too many books, Turkey has proven that elites can stifle democracy and that democratic values do not necessarily correlate with capitalist expansion of wealth. In Turkey's case, the major stumbling block is an entrenched Westernized elite that has proven itself in the past two years to be anything but democratic. The force for democratization instead is coming from a diverse coalition of factions intent to gain rights from the state and participate in a public sphere that is still very much incipient.

However, it is also an overstatement to say that this force is coming from below. While this is true insomuch as the coalition is outside of the traditional Kemalist elite who have clung to centralized power, but the leading forces in the coalition are themselves an elite that has much benefitted from economic liberalization. Many represent the new wealth that emerged from Turgut Özal's policies in the 1980s while others are committed liberal reformers and members of various groups that have traditionally been excluded from the Kemalist power center. Dagı's reference to forces at "the periphery" is perhaps most accurate in this regard, and it is this group of actors who are the most avid to pursue EU membership and procure the democratic reforms that come hand-in-hand with so doing. The old modernization theory espoused by Huntington and Rostow is necessarily complicated by this periphery and I suspect Turkey is not particularly astonishing in its offering of an alternative narrative.

For more information on the Euro-phile coalition, see my Jan. 19 post.

Uncivil Society?: The Türban and the Failings of Political Discourse

PHOTO: This Internet-posted photograph illustrates the uncivil discourse that characterizes the headscarf debate. Such photos have been floating around the Internet in recent week on students' blogs and on the Facebook social networking site.

AKP announced on Sunday that it will wait for CHP to take recently passed amendments that effectively legalized women to wear the türban on university campuses before moving for a vote on Article 17 of the Higher Education (YÖK) law.

Meanwhile, I would like to draw attention to an excellent article that appeared in yesterday's New York Times relating to growing animosity toward women who wear the türban. The article portrays the sense of otherness that some secularists feel toward covered women, addressing how this sentiment has grown over the past years as a burgeoning religious class has begun to move up the economic ladder. Also provocative, the article examines claims that this discrimination parallels the United States' treatment of African Americans in the 1960s. This comparison has been drawn for some time by critics of the headscarf ban, and its dissection by Sabrina Tavernise is intriguing. Tavernise quotes Atilla Yayla as saying that strict secularists often "hate religious people" -- the latter often become targets of discrimination as a result. Quoting Yayla, "They don't encounter them as human beings. They want them to evaporate, to disappear as fast as possible." The story accounts the discomfort many covered women feel when walking in neighborhoods more liberal or Western, and such experience surely evidences the polarization that occurs when people come to think of the türban as a singular symbol of some grand ideology. It is this mode of thought that CHP has used as of late to conjure a politics of division -- a politics perhaps expedient for CHP, but which has the potential to send Turkey spiralling dangerously out of control. At a most basic level, such identity politics abuses women.

From talking to people about the türban, it is clear that the vituperative nature of attacks such as Baykal's and the uneasiness about lifting the türban ban rests squarely on how some have chosen to interpret the türban as a symbol. The ban might be read as unfair from a number of different vantage points, but key to these symbolic interpretations is the seizure of another's agency. To interpret the türban in one particular way is to label another's action according to one's own ideological narrative. When this happens what for many women is a matter of personal choice instead becomes subject to what is all too often a dangerously intolerant, unbending, and frequently hegemonic understanding of secularism. Using this understanding to read the action of the türban-wearer, the defender of secularism imagines the covered woman as something "other." The türban-wearer is no longer to be treated as an individual whose reasons for dress might be complex and multi-faceted, but rather an actor in a political drama. Instead of the türban-wearer being able to choose her own lines, the defenders of secularism in this drama exert control over the story. What unfolds is very much an intrusion into the lives of others. Coercive in their reduction of reality, the stories surrounding the türban do not account for the multi-dimensional realities involved women's choices. The stories instead seek to categorize decisions about apparel in a taxonomy very much instrumental to reinforcing a particular view of things, and are thereby used as tools to hegomonically control the lives of the women.

A wonderful example of such story-telling can be seen in the recent rhetorical gamesmanship of Baykal. Differentiating the türban from the headscarf worn by whom Baykal often refers to as our "mothers and sisters in the Anatolian heartland," the türban is an object of foreign cultures—of a creeping Islam that is determined to undermine the values of the secular Republic. What is perhaps most telling is the amount of description and allusion Baykal has spent in strengthening this narrative. Further, like all good narratives, it has united opposition behind the headscarf as self-avowed 'defenders of the Republic' rush to assume their roles in the political drama. In the game of practical politics, it has strengthened Baykal's standing in the CHP and assured him continued support despite the fact that he is far from popular within the party. For an illustration of this narrative's re-telling in action, see this video on YouTube that has been making the rounds recently. I have so far received it in my inbox six times in just the past two weeks.

These stories are also dangerous in that they foster a more uncivil society. Instead of individuals coming together as individuals each with their own unique agency and multiple potentials, and most important, in recognition of their plurality, multiplicity and plurality are replaced by the singularity and reductive function of ideology. Intolerance and the reduction of difference, rather than its celebration for creative potential, come to define political relations between citizens and here enters Tavernise's investigation.

While I agree that discrimination against covered women is a serious problem that merits discussion, I want also to say that it seems to me that such intolerance is practiced by only a small minority. Further, discrimination is usually quite veiled —perhaps the occasional smirk and, most often, a sense that women who cover themselves are uppity. This is not unlike the attitude that some Americans feel toward religious people who opt to move outside of the social spheres where they have felt most comfortable. What is the most disheartening about the headscarf issue as it presently stands in Turkey is that it is precisely this integration of spheres and publics of which Turkey is in most need if its democratization project is to develop real roots in Turkish society. In İzmit, too often groups tend to form that seem to have this or that particular identity and rarely co-mingle. Usually, when I see a covered woman she is accompanied by other covered women. Likewise, women who are dressed in much more modern clothes are usually walking arm-in-arm with other women like them. While it is not at all uncommon to see covered women walking arm-in-arm, it is something of which I nonetheless find myself taking note. In İstanbul, it is not an uncommon occurence at all.

Comparing Turkey and the United States in relation to what I mean by this seeming lack of integration between publics, the matter somewhat parallels the integration and sense of mystery built around 'otherness' that is still descriptive of race relations in the United States. Although younger generations of Americans seem to be moving past such characterizations, it is not at all uncommon to hear people refer to friends as their "black friends." To recall a famous episode of "Seinfeld" in which one of the characters actively seeks out a "black friend," the comedy sketch is telling in that it highlights the sense that race is for many people something still very mysterious and one-dimensional in American culture. The idea that I would reductively define my friend's identity by her race is abhorrent to many Americans, but to perhaps just as many people there is little offensive about it.

In Turkey, it is common for Kemalists to talk about having "covered women" as friends--and, by this, they usually mean women who wear the tight-fitting, allegedly "political" türban--but, just as it is for race relations in the United States, such descriptions are telling of the pervadingly reductive and one-dimensional thought on the issue. Increased integration in Turkish society between members of the country's established urban, modern, and secular established and its rising, devout, and newly urbanized middle-class is critical to the long-term democratic stability of the country. Contrary to so many fears that reside here, the real pillar of building democracy is pluralism—not secularism. If Turkish society is to more fully embrace pluralism, it is key that people begin to recognize identity as multi-dimensional and human relations as fluid. Sure, my friend is a "covered woman," but she also aspires to be an attorney, is a lover of Miles Davis, and studies Tae Kwan Doe. As I mentioned in my first blog post, no matter where I go, the one thing that never ceases to amaze and comfort me is how amazingly complex, surprising, and difficult people are to define. I find Turkey to be not the least bit exceptional in this regard. Sadly, the political discourse and social risk-taking that should accompany this diversity lags far behind, and this is perhaps the greatest disappointment of Turkish politicians in recent years.

In a country as amazingly and beautifully diverse as is Turkey when it comes to ethnicity, culture, and religious identity, it is a very sad thing indeed that political rhetoric remains so primitive and divisive. Rather than embrace complexity and what a favorite professor of mine once referred to as a toleration for the ambiguity that surrounds human relations, politicians have instead relied on narratives in which difference is reduced to barren roles more characteristic of dime store novels than reality. However, not only is such one-dimensionality sad—it is also dangerous.

Three days ago I received an invitation via Facebook—yes, I have a Facebook account—to join a group comprised of students opposed to the türban. I have received such invitations before, but what was shocking about this particular invitation was its disturbingly intolerant portrayal of covered women. The creators of this Facebook group had posted photos of themselves wearing what was supposed to be a türban while they posed in various and sometimes vulgar positions. One of the photos featured a rather chubby, typical-looking college student without a shirt and wearing a bra. While no doubt a joke to these students, the intention was to ridicule türban-wearing women. Crueler than other taunts I have observed, the group is representative of exactly the sorts of targeted jeers that risk driving covered women and the newly-landed religious middle class out of schools and neighborhoods in which they quite understandably might feel uncomfortable.

Ironically, it is this sort of reinforced segmentation of society that really does risk the rise of an Islamic state, and proponents of 'modernism' and 'secularism' should take heed of this warning. Turkey's best defense of avoiding Islamic tyranny is its population's coming to terms with pluralism, acceptance of the multiplicity inherent to human identity and relationships, and toleration and respect all individuals. If Turkish society can acheive all of this, a political discourse might emerge in Turkey deserving of its cultural richness and refusal to be easily categorized.

A Beginning

I arrived in İzmit on January 14, 2008, and instantly found myself caught up in the city’s daily bustle. My first time in Turkey, I could not fully anticipate the commotion that characterizes this city’s streets on a daily basis. Although the city can be somewhat quiet in the early morning, by noon its streets are packed with a great diversity of people—all with something to do and some place to go. Since I cannot speak Turkish, this sight seems all the more mysterious, exotic, and—although careful not to be trapped in some sort of Orientalist trap—almost romantic. Everything from the yells of the simitçi selling hot simit outside of my apartment (“sıcak, sıcak!”) to the aromas of food I have never before tasted tells me I am in a different land and that I am in for a range of experiences very different from those to which I have before been accustomed. Although the aim of this blog is not personal, it seems appropriate at its beginning to share my foreigner’s sense of being overwhelmed by this country—the difference I feel between it and me.

This said, I must say that just three days here has brought an end to much of this mystery or sense of Turks being somewhat ‘other’ than myself. I have found that this happens whenever you meet people who at first seem outwardly different than you, but during my time here I expect it to be proven even more profoundly true. This is unquestionably one of the tremendous comforts of the normalcy that comes with getting to know people and, of course, one of the great dangers of wrapping what are essentially other people up in what is often one's own de-humanizing fiction of another. Further, I believe one of the ways in which living in this country will prove most valuable to my career is simply the fact that its people are not so easily ordered. While one person might appear very ‘Western’ on the surface—familiar clothes, hair fashions, etc.—their beliefs might be much more outside what might be considered a more liberal or 'Western' understanding of things when compared to those of another person who perhaps dresses in fashions more foreign. It is cliché in Middle East studies to say that little is as it appears (if Turkey can even be considered "the Middle East"), but there does seem to exist a great deal of veracity to this claim. What is perhaps much more interesting and meaningful, though, is the fact that no ‘Turk’ seems easily categorized.

From the beginning, I want to make it clear that I aim to steer away from generalizations about what is ‘typically Turkish’ and what is not, what is "Western" and what is not. While these dichotomies and their constructions no doubt carry real meaning in contemporary discussions of Turkey, my own discoveries made in just the past few days have informed me that such distinctions are obfuscatory, if not misleading, and should be held suspect. Just as the United States and Americans are baffling in terms of the sheer multiplicity of ideas and identities that characterize their culture, so, I know must be Turkey and Turks. Of course, much more familiar with the United States and aware of the difficulty in drawing definitive conclusions about any country or its people from my own attempts to understand the place in which I was born and raised, I am equally aware of the conscientiousness and care required in any such task undertaken in reference to another country.

More so, I expect Turkey to be all the more baffling—perhaps just because the country is itself in so many ways at a crossroads between what Edward Said has called our conceptions of ‘Occident’ and ‘Orient.’ A set of puzzles most certainly exists, but I do not see my work as an attempt to solve them—only to arrive at a better understanding as to their existence and their role in shaping the lifeworlds of Turkish people, in particular, Turkish citizens. T.S. Eliot once wrote that “we shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” I am not anywhere near so optimistic or foolhardy as to think that by the end of this project I might know the place where I now begin. My ambition is only that I will move a little closer.

To introduce this project, let me first state that my intention is in no way to present myself as an authority on Turkish politics. I am a student—nothing more. As a result, any analysis I present in this forum will indubitably be influenced by unrefined assumptions and judgments still very much in the process of being formed and, of course, inevitably grounded in my own experience—those events and historical processes that as Gramsci informs have deposited themselves in me without leaving any inventory as to their contribution. My prior experience consists only of a sustained interest in Turkish politics that has lasted for approximately two-and-one-half years and has led me to intermittently follow the subject in the English-language Turkish press and engage in a fair bit of reading that can by no means be characterized as comprehensive. So, from the start, I ask readers to be aware of and patient with the very novice and incipient nature of this project.

Rather than try to author some grand introduction to politics of Turkey and the plethora of issues present therein, I will avoid this near impossible task and instead present such information as later commentary might demand. This said, I do think it necessary to introduce the basic political context in which my project exists so that I might convey how excited I am to finally be here and writing.

This year promises many groundbreaking political developments for the country as Turkey’s ruling political party, the Islamic-oriented, yet reform minded, Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkinma Partisi—AKP) prepares to introduce a new constitution that might well overhaul important elements in the country’s 1982 constitution. After winning a bold mandate—a near 47 percent of the vote—in last July’s elections, AKP is in a powerful position from which the party might transform Turkey (for better or worse depends on with whom you talk). The current constitution was drafted following Turkey’s infamous 1980 coup and is in many ways a relic to the political circumstances that accompanied the military’s seizure of political control following the establishment’s unease with the leftist tone oppositional politics were taking at the time. Hence, a new constitution promises systemic change. Prior to being appointed the chairman of the academic commission to which AKP tasked the drafting of the new constitution, Ergun Özbudun highlighted the dramatic change a constitution would promise the country.

"A constitution, which should be an ideologically neutral instrument as far as possible, should not impose the same social and economic choices on all contesting parties. If it does, the essential meaning of multi-party politics and inter-party competition will be lost."

Although the draft of a new constitution was released in September, its introduction to parliament has been stalled as the country has turned its attention to the suppression of PKK terrorist activities in the southeast. However, AKP has already been heavily criticized for the draft indubitably due to its polemical inclusion of articles pertaining to freedom of dress at university (effectively permitting women to wear the headscarf, or türban, on university campuses), freedom of expression, and most significant, its revision of articles that would revise the strict definition of secularism imposed by the current constitution—the most controversial imposition that the drafters of the new constitution hope to eliminate.

The background in which constitutional debate is set to occur is defined by July's groundbreaking elections. With a history of military-led coups and interventions, these elections are a watershed in Turkish politics. The elections affirmed AKP’s political popularity throughout the country and consolidated democracy in lieu of a military coup. They also represented a victory for the country's rising Islamic middle class, a social fact with which Turkey's paternalistic establishment and its attendant political class is having trouble coming to terms. Infused by powerful national sentiment rooted in the story of Turkey's founding by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the Immortal Leader, the power this political class once held over national politics is waning. The old political class' rabid protection of the secular components of Kemalism can become quiet virulent, the myriad contortions of which are anathema to democratic liberalism: free speech is restricted, electoral majorities undermined, and when deemed necessary, detention and torture used against "enemies of the state."

In party politics, Turkey's established political class is best represented by the Republican People’s Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi—CHP) —a party that is itself not easy to characterize, but that has long held true to a staunchly secular vision of the Turkish state and that has as of late been very much in-line with the opinions of the Turkish Armed Forces (TSK). CHP is also Turkey's oldest party, the party of Atatürk, and, in theory, the country's center-left party. Despite the influence of liberal politics in the 1960s and membership in the Soviet International, CHP is a devotedly nationalist party intent to preserve the status quo. Interestingly enough, another large component of AKP is the ultra-nationalist National Movement Party (Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi—MHP). MHP has a long standing in Turkish politics and was once associated with far-right paramilitary groups and it is only in the past ten years that it has moderated its position, sought in roads with religious Sunni Muslim voters, and played a prime role in parliament.

With no other viable opposition to challenge the status quo, AKP has become the reform party and as such has filled what had long been a progressive void in Turkish politics. AKP portrays itself as a moderate, pro-Western party that seeks to protect the rights of all citizens and its pro-EU position belies the anti-European, pro-Arab diplomacy of past Islamist parties. AKP politicians have repeatedly denied that there agenda is one of political Islam and have rejected the Islamist label entirely. However, critics are simply not convinced. AKP detractors often point to the party's support for policies that benefit its conservative Muslim base, in particular its advocacy for lifting the headscarf ban at universities. However, AKP answers that conservative Muslims have not been allowed to realize their Turkish citizenship to the same degree as their more 'secular' counterparts due to social barriers and that it is merely seeking equality for all citizens. To this extent, the party contends that the headscarf ban has prevented conservative Muslim women from receiving education. In retort, the secularists claim that AKP is merely couching an Islamic agenda in liberal democratic rhetoric. They opine that the party's pro-Europe position is a farce and the AKP has everyone fooled, especially Europe toward which secularists are becoming more and more hostile. For them, AKP's ties to the radical Welfare Party (Refah Partisi—RP) are enough to condemn the party.

Shortly after Turkey’s last coup in 1997 (the 'post-modern' coup), Turkey’s Constitutional Court closed RP and banned from politics its prime minister, Necmettin Erbakan, along with other RP politicians (including Erdoğan who was then the mayor of İstanbul). RP was widely feared when it came to power in 1994's municipal elections and then entered parliament with a plurality of the vote in the next parliamentary elections. The party's ideology was an amalgam of political Islam and anti-imperialism and never did it espouse liberal democratic ideals. It was authoritarian to its core, anti-EU, and paid little heed to the concept of personal liberty. Although the party moderated its radicalism once in parliament, it did so because it had to in order to maintain the coalition it had formed with the center-right. Despite this moderation, Erbakan was subject to a deluge of criticism when he made state visits to Iran and Libya, seeking to influence foreign policy, traditionally the domain of the president. Further, he urged children to attend religious schools, proposed the construction of mosques in secular centers, and most importantly, failed to control RP municipal authorities who began to pass very restrictive laws, shutting down cinemas, lingerie stores, and restaurants that refused to close their door during Ramazan. Following the dissolution of RP, many of its members re-organized and established the Virtue Party (Fazilet Partisi—FP) in 1998. FP was in many ways a continuation of RP and although posting a strong showing following elections in 1999, faced problems soon after resulting from internal divisions among more Islamist sectors in the party and those who began to identify themselves as reformers. Erdoğan and Gül are members of the reform group and it is this group which formed AKP in 2001 just after the Constitutional Court’s closure of FP. Although some of the more radical actors within RP and FP entered AKP, Erdoğan dismissed with many of them upon coming to power.

Following the collapse of a divided parliament in early 2002, AKP swept to power in elections held in November that year. The party won a surprising 34 percent of the vote—enough to capture an absolute majority in Parliament. AKP's victory seems to have had more to do with reform than Islam. This is indicated by the losses of truly Islamist parties in 2002 and the years that followed. In contrast to AKP, the Felicity Party (Saadet Partisi—SP) was formed by the faction of more Islamist FP members and did quite poorly in the 2002 elections. The general conclusion to be drawn is that AKP was not successful because it was Islamist, but because of the large coalition it brought together thanks to its promises of stability, an end to corruption, and significant economic reform. Again, the success of AKP in delivering its promises depends with whom you talk, but beyond question is the country’s economic success following the increased political stability that followed the election and largely thanks to a series of economic reforms AKP made to correct a disastrous economy. Since AKP’s election, Turkey’s inflation has been brought under control and the country has repeatedly posted a GDP growth rate between five to seven percent. Additionally, foreign direct investment has drastically increased, a stronger and healthier middle class has started to emerge, and unemployment has decreased. Significantly, cash is also flowing in the east of Turkey as entrepreneurs move to invest in cities like Diyarbakır, Elazığ, and Erzincan and the governments found development projects aimed to improve standards of living that lag far behind the west.

The party strengthened its electoral mandate in the 2004 municipal elections when it won 42 percent of the vote. Significant to this election was AKP's increased support in the cities along the coast of Turkey (which are less religiously conservative) and in the southeast. In the southeast, AKP made considerable inroads among the Kurdish community and cut into the support its representative party—the Social Democratic People’s Party (Sosyaldemokrat Halk Partisi—DTP). This latter vote is important insomuch as it represents co-opation of the Kurds’ prime political party. DTP is often accused of being comprised of Kurdish nationalists and of having links to the militant Kurdistan Workers’ Party (known in Kurdish as the Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan, or most commonly, the PKK). AKP’s promises of economic development in the southeast have undoubtedly weakened the hand of the DTP and more significantly, undermined support for the PKK. In the July elections, several Kurdish constituents made it known that they would only cast votes for DTP MPs who promised to support Gül's candidacy for the presidency.

Things came to a head this past April with the expiration of President Necdet Sezer’s term in office. Under the Turkish Constitution, the president is appointed by vote of the Parliament. With an AKP-controlled parliament, for the first time the president and prime minister would be coming from an allegedly Islamist party. Although Turkey’s constitution places the president 'above politics,' important powers are vested in the office, e.g. the right to veto legislation and appoint judges to the Constitutional Court. Following a first round of voting in parliament in which Gül was elected by a total of 357 MPs, the military issued a stern warning that shook the country and moved it into a period of great uncertainty. Amidst talk of another coup, CHP filed a petition with the Constitutional Court to annul Gül's election. CHP had boycotted the vote and argued that a quorum (367 MPs) was required to elect the president and that as a consequence Gül’s election was unconstitutional. This “367 criterion” had not before been applied, but the Court nullified the election on May 1 on these same grounds.

Following a second round of voting that failed to procure the needed 367 votes, AKP called for parliamentary elections. The elections were held on July 22 and the party increased its mandate and won enough MPs to guarantee Gül’s election under the Court’s criterion. The months in which these events pursued were quite intense and talk of possible military intervention did not recede until after Gül was elected on Aug. 28 in a third round of voting without disruption. For a detailed account of these events, see Walter Posch's occasional paper, “Crisis in Turkey: Just Another Bump on the Road to Europe?” Occasional Paper No 67 (European Union Institute for Strategic Studies, June 2007).

Soon after the election, AKP came through in its promises to deliver liberalization in the form of a new constitution and soon entered the Özbudun-led constitutional commission. The new constitution engenders a democratic project that aspires to expand civil liberties and political participation while curtailing the power of the military, and granting Kurds formal recognition of their ethnic identity, language, and culture. For reasons already mentioned, civil liberties and increased political participation represent represent serious challenges to the state structure. There is a great amount of fear that mass politics would degenerate into violence that would jeopardize the political stability of the country and its Kemalist underpinnings. In just three days, I have already been presented with the argument that Kemalism protects all Turks, including the Islamic hordes from middle and eastern Anatolia who might turn Turkey into another Iran if given ample opportunity. Unrestricted speech and majoritarian democracy would surely give way to chaos. "Turkey is not like Europe," I was told. Additionally, the military is expected to firmly resist weakening of its authority and the guardian role it has played since the inception of multi-party democracy. Concessions to Kurdish demands will augment resistance to democratization in that a more empowered Kurdish southeast is seen as a grave security threat by the military and many Turks alike. Constitutional reform is faced with a number of hurdles and I wait in eager anticipation to watch the process unfold.

In addition to the constitution, controversial elements in Turkey’s penal code in regard to freedom of speech are also likely to be revisited in the coming year. Turkey has long been criticized by human rights organizations for its prosecution of journalists, academics, politicians, activists, and ordinary individuals for speech acts that government officials find offensive. Most important in this debate is Article 301 in which it is codified a crime against the state to insult ‘Turkishness.’ Despite enduring pressure from the European Union, moves to revise the article have been slow. Indeed, just last week parliament’s consideration of a legislative proposal to amend the law was again delayed. Future stall tactics are likely since status quo forces strongly oppose revision. For them, Article 301 is a necessary tool to prevent defamation of the state by the opposition and even a national security issue. Recent 301 prosecutions include the conviction of renown Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink before his assassination last January and the more recent proceedings brought against Turkish novelist and Nobel Prize-winner Orhan Pamuk following comments each made regarding the Ottoman Empires’ involvement in the re-location and mass killings of Armenians in 1915. Pamuk’s case was dismissed, but only after attracting a great amount of negative press in Europe.

To close, I am sure many people will be asking me, “Why İzmit?” Many of the people I have met have already posed this question to me. The answer is that the province of Kocaeli of which İzmit is the capital is one of the places where Turkey’s emerging middle class is among the most active and visible. Suit-and-tie Islamists are not at all an uncommon sight nor are elegantly clad headscarved women donning all sorts of colorful and expensive-looking jewelry. Kocaeli is home to a very diverse population that cuts across class lines and geographic heritages. Essentially, people come here from all over Turkey—for jobs. Just outside of İstanbul (İzmit is one hour by bus), the province includes Turkey’s industrial corridor as it unfolds along the Sea of Marmara. It is home to numerous multinational companies including major operations of Ford, Honda, Hyundai, and Isuzu motor companies. Tüpraş, Turkey’s largest domestic enterprise and producer of 27 percent of the country’s refined petroleum, is also located here. Outside of the tourist hustle and large ex-patriate population of İstanbul, my guess is that İzmit might afford me a better understanding of Turkey and perhaps provide more opportunities to interact with people and hopefully learn a decent bit of Turkish.

This said, I had a chance to visit İstanbul for the first time today and was amazed by how distinctly 'Turkish' it still felt in spite of its cosmopolitan and international character. Indeed, the posted photo is of a view of the Bospurus and not from İzmit. (I have not yet had a chance to take photos of İzmit.) Although Kocaeli province is perhaps best known for the destruction wreaked here following the 1999 earthquake of which Gölcuk, just across the Marmara from where I live, was the epicenter, it seems to have recovered quite well. There are still some evident signs of the earthquake—I am fairly confident he building next to mine was leveled. However, from the frenetic daily bustle on the streets each day, one would find it hard to know without being told or arriving here with previous knowledge of the event.

In terms of politics, although historically a stronghold of CHP, Kocaeli's influx of immigrants and rising Islamic middle class have formed a strong base of AKP support that earned the party control of the province in 2004. Since the 1950s, Kocaeli had been the center of a bureacratic and industrial working class, the traditional base of CHP support. Before, the province had been governed by CHP notable Sefa Sirmen. Sirmen is largely responsible for developing the province throughout the 1990s and in spite of charges of corruption, he seems largely respected. He resigned before the 2004 elections to make a bid for the Parliament and was replaced by one of İzmit's municipal mayors, Hikmet Erenkaya. I am told Erenkaya was a rather disastrous replacement and he lost heavily in the 2004 elections to an AKP candidate. Like elsewhere in the country, AKP won significant majorities at all levels of government throughout the province.

I know this was a rather long first post and I hope it has not been too cumbersome to read. I look forward to sharing more as I pass the coming months here and, again, am excited about what this opportunity has to offer.