The Militant Kurds: a Dual Strategy for Freedom : A Dual Strategy for Freedom 9780313364693, 9780313364686

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THE MILITANT KURDS

Recent Titles in PSI Guides to Terrorists, Insurgents, and Armed Groups The ETIM: China’s Islamic Militants and the Global Terrorist Threat J. Todd Reed and Diana Raschke The Phinehas Priesthood: Violent Vanguard of the Christian Identity Movement Danny W. Davis

THE MILITANT KURDS A Dual Strategy for Freedom

Vera Eccarius-Kelly

PSI Guides to Terrorists, Insurgents, and Armed Groups James J. F. Forest, Series Editor

Copyright 2011 by Vera Eccarius-Kelly 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, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Eccarius-Kelly, Vera. The militant Kurds : a dual strategy for freedom / Vera Eccarius-Kelly. p. cm. — (PSI guides to terrorists, insurgents, and armed groups) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978–0–313–36468–6 (acid-free paper) — ISBN 978–0–313–36469–3 (ebook) 1. Partiya Karkerên Kurdistanê. 2. Kongreya Azadî û Demokrasiya Kurdistan. 3. Kurds—Turkey—History—Autonomy and independence movements. 4. Kurds— Turkey—Politics and government. 5. Turkey—Ethnic relations. I. Title. II. Series. DR435.K87E26 2011 956.10 00491597—dc22 2010040691 ISBN: 978–0–313–36468–6 EISBN: 978–0–313–36469–3 15 14 13 12 11

1 2 3 4 5

This book is also available on the World Wide Web as an eBook. Visit www.abc-clio.com for details. Praeger An Imprint of ABC-CLIO, LLC ABC-CLIO, LLC 130 Cremona Drive, P.O. Box 1911 Santa Barbara, California 93116-1911 This book is printed on acid-free paper Manufactured in the United States of America

In loving memory of my mother, who inspired and encouraged me. Helga Ingrid Eccarius

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Contents

Acknowledgments Terms and Abbreviations Pronunciation Guide Introduction: From Diyarbakir to Western Europe

ix xi xv 1

1.

Framing the Conflict

16

2.

Denigration of Turkishness

38

3.

The Kurdish Wedge

65

4.

Visions of Kurdistan

78

5.

The PKK and Armed Struggle

102

6.

Loss of Status

119

7.

Blood Memories

150

8.

The Transnational Kurdish Web

166

Conclusion: Solving the Puzzle

189

Appendix A: Kurdish Populations

203

Appendix B: Maps

205

Appendix C: Timeline

207

Appendix D: Profiles of PKK Leaders

211

viii

Contents

Notes

215

Bibliography

239

Index

245

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank many colleagues and friends for countless hours spent critiquing variations of my manuscript and for providing me with invaluable feedback throughout the research and writing process. Above all, I would like to acknowledge the significant support I received from my colleagues Dr. Karl Barbir, Dr. Barbara Reeves-Ellington, and John Vallely in the history department. In my own department of political science, Dr. Laurie Naranch encouraged me to examine the question of ethnicity and multiculturalism more closely, and Dr. John Blanchard from the philosophy department helped me conceptualize my project in a new way. Many others, including Dr. Ahmet Sözen, analyst Emre (Emrullah) Uslu, writer and activist Doğan Özgüden and members of Info-Türk, activist and director of the American Kurdish Information Network Kani Xulam, LTC Andrew Morgado, professor of military science at Siena College and members of the Mohawk Battalion, Dr. Samuel Watson, professor of history at USMA, and M.A. student Dilshad Abubakir provided me with helpful insights, challenging perspectives, and critical interpretations, which I have attempted to weave into this book. My friend and colleague from computer science Dr. Robert Yoder created the Kurdistan map for this book. I would like to express my appreciation to Steve Catalano, Senior Editor at Praeger Security International, and James J.F. Forest, former Director of Terrorism Studies at USMA and the series editor for the PSI Guides to Terrorists, Insurgents, and Armed Groups. Their guidance, rapid feedback, and constant support helped me tremendously. Most of all, I would like to acknowledge the significant editorial assistance I received from my husband Bill Kelly, who read and critiqued every word I wrote. Without his critical

x

Acknowledgments

eye and encouragement, I would not have been able to complete this book. I would also like to thank Gary Thompson, Library Director at Siena College, and all of the other librarians who assisted me with my research. There are many more friends, colleagues, and informants whose remarks and insights over the years had a profound impact on my own thinking about the larger Kurdish conflict. I would be remiss if I failed to recognize at least a few among them: Bahar Rumelili, Fuat Keyman, Reşat Bayer, Şuhnaz Yilmaz, Taner Akçam, Ayşe Kadıoğlu, Maria Stephan, Wendy Pojmann, Michael Papadopoulos (LTC, ret.), Bruce Behringer, Erol Akmercan, Ismail Acar, Cenk Yildirim, Ahsen Utku, Vera Beaudin Saeedpour, The Honorable James P. King (BG, ret.), members of The New York Dialogue Foundation, staffers at several international NGOs, and many others. Numerous Kurdish and Turkish informants provided me with invaluable remarks and perspectives along the way. Most are involved in activist circles in Europe, and some openly sympathize with Kurdish ethno-national positions and the PKK. While quite a few hold European citizenship, several asked not to be identified by name or organization. I thank them for their willingness to speak with me about their perceptions of the Kurdish conflict.

Terms and Abbreviations

AKIN AKP Al-Anfal almancilar Ansar al-Islam Ansar al-Sunnah ARGK Ausländer AWACS Baader-Meinhof BDP BfV BKA BND Brigate Rosse CHP CoE CPT CSU DDKO DengeMezopotamya

American-Kurdish Information Network (United States) Justice and Development Party (Turkey) Saddam Hussein’s genocidal campaign against Kurds The Germans (Turkish) Partisans of Islam; a puritanical Iraqi-Kurdish group Followers of Sunnah; a puritanical Iraqi-Kurdish group People’s Liberation Army of Kurdistan Foreigner (German) Airborne Warning and Control Systems Also Red Brigades, named after two founders (German) Peace and Democracy Party (Kurdish) Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution in Germany Federal Criminal Police in Germany Federal Intelligence Service in Germany Red Brigades (Italian) Republican People’s Party (Turkey) Council of Europe European Council’s Committee for the Prevention of Torture Christian Social Union (Germany) Revolutionary Cultural Society of the East (Kurdish) A Kurdish Web page and satellite radio station (Belgium)

xii

Terms and Abbreviations

DEP Dersim Dev Genç DTP EC ECHR ERNK ETA EU Europol EUTCC FARC FATA Firat GAP Gastarbeiter HADEP HEP Hizbullah HPG HSYK IEDs IHD Ilim IRA ISI ISRO/USAK Jandarma Jihadi JITEM KADEK KCK KDP Keffiyeh Kemalism KHRP KOM Kongra-Gel

Democratic Party (Kurdish) Seyid Riza’s failed rebellion in the region of Dersim, 1936–1938 Revolutionary Youth Federation (Turkey) Democratic Society Party (Kurdish) European Commission European Court of Human Rights National Liberation Front of Kurdistan Basque Home and Freedom Organization (Spain and France) European Union European Criminal Intelligence Agency EU-Turkey Civic Commission Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia Federally Administered Tribal Areas (Pakistan) Kurdish News Agency Southeast Anatolia Project in Turkey Guest worker (German) People’s Democracy Party (Kurdish) People’s Labor Party (Kurdish) Militant Sunni Islamist group in Turkey People’s Defense Forces (Kurdish) Supreme Board of Judges and Prosecutors (Turkey) Improvised explosive devices Human Rights Association (Turkey) Wisdom; wing of Sunni Islamist Turkish Hizbullah Irish Republican Army (Ireland) Inter-Services-Intelligence (Pakistan) International Strategic Research Organization Gendarmerie, a branch of Turkey’s Armed Forces Violent person pursuing jihad (striving in the way of Allah) Gendarmerie Intelligence and Counterterrorist Service (Turkey) Freedom and Democracy Congress of Kurdistan (Kurdish) Kurdistan Democratic Federation (Kurdish) Kurdistan Democratic Party (Northern Iraq) Checkered Palestinian headscarf State ideology named after Mustafa Kemal Atatürk Kurdish Human Rights Project (UK) Department for Anti-Smuggling and Organized Crime (Turkey’s Interior Ministry) People’s Congress of Kurdistan (Kurdish)

Terms and Abbreviations

KON-KURD KRG Kurmanji Laiklik MEP MHP MIT MRG Nakşibendi NATO NGO NSC OECD OMCT OSCE Özgür Gündem Özgür Politika Peshmerga PJAK PKK PNR PRI PUK Puşi RAF RIRA RTUK Salafists Sendero Luminoso SETA Sinn Fein TAK Tanzimat Terre Lluire TESEV THKO Tlatelolco TMYK UNHCR URNG

xiii

The Confederation of Kurdish Associations in Europe Kurdish Regional Government (Iraq) Dominant Kurdish language in Turkey Laicism or Secularism (Turkish) Member of European Parliament Nationalist Action or Movement Party (Turkey) Milli Istihbahrat Teşkilati; Turkey’s intelligence agency Minority Rights Group International Sufi religious order North American Treaty Organization Non-governmental organization National Security Council Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development World Organization Against Torture Organization for Security and Cooperation Free Agenda (Kurdish newspaper) Free Politics (Kurdish newspaper) Iraqi-Kurdish guerrilla fighters Party for a Free Life in Kurdistan (Northern Iraq and Iran) Kurdish Workers Party National Revolutionary Party (Mexico) Institutional Revolutionary Party (Mexico) Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (Northern Iraq) Traditional Kurdish scarf Rote Armee Fraktion (Germany) Real Irish Republican Army (Northern Ireland) Supreme Council of Radio and Television (Turkey) Puritanical Sunni militants Shining Path, a Maoist guerrilla organization (Peru) Foundation for Political, Economic and Social Research (Turkey) Political wing of the Irish Republican Party (IRA) Kurdistan Freedom Falcons Reorganization of the Ottoman Empire (1839–1878) Free Land, Catalonia (Spain) Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation People’s Liberation Army of Turkey 1968 massacre of Mexican student protestors Higher Counterterrorism Board (Turkey) United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity

xiv

Terms and Abbreviations

USAK Village Guards WPT YEK-KOM Yeni Özgür Politika YOK

International Strategic Research Organization (Turkey) Communal militias set up by the state to support the military in Turkey Workers Party of Turkey Federation of Kurdish Associations (Germany) New Free Politics (Kurdish newspaper) Higher Education Board (Turkey)

Pronunciation Guide

Turkish and Kurdish letters are pronounced similarly to English, with a few exceptions: Turkish Letters

English Pronunciation

C, c Ç, ç Ğ, ğ Ö, ö Ş, ş Ü, ü

‘j’ as in jam ‘ch’ as in channel silent but lengthens previous vowel, ağa like a—a ‘oe’ as in the German Umlaut in König ‘sh’ as in shoe ‘ue’ as in the German Umlaut in Überhang

Kurdish Letters

English Pronunciation

ê û x w

‘ay’ as in the French allé ‘oo’ as in baboon ‘ch’ as in the German Achtung ‘w’ as in window

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Introduction R

From Diyarbakir to Western Europe

AN INTRODUCTION TO MILITANT KURDS Growing up in the West-German city of Düsseldorf, I first encountered militant Kurdish protests in the early 1980s. As a teenager, I walked past a Kurdish information stand in the downtown train station and noticed a young man who I assumed was wearing a black and white checkered Palestinian keffiyeh (a traditional headdress made of cotton or wool that is wrapped around the head and neck as protection from sun, sand, and cold temperatures) scarf. Intrigued by what I interpreted as a symbol of solidarity between Kurds and Palestinians, I asked him about the significance of wearing a Palestinian scarf while handing out flyers that demanded improvements in Kurdish human rights. He smiled and explained to me that the scarf was not Palestinian at all, but rather a traditional Kurdish puşi (the Kurdish version of the regional protective headdress). Wearing this scarf symbolized his opposition to Turkey’s repressive policies directed at the Kurdish minority. Then he shared with me how his family suffered under Turkish military occupation in the province of Hakkari, a far southeastern region of Turkey that borders on Iraq and Iran. The young man showed me appalling photographic images of Kurds who he said had been tortured by members of the Turkish military or the Turkish National Police. I recall one particular photograph of a teenage boy whose discolored and grotesquely deformed face appeared to have swollen from a vicious beating. His cheekbones and jaw seemed broken

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and his eyes looked glazed over. From that moment on I began paying closer attention to developments related to Turkish-Kurdish relations and Kurdish-German interactions. Over a period of several years, I witnessed infuriated Kurdish men smash in store windows and toss Molotov cocktails at Turkish-owned properties in my hometown. I observed marches with thousands of Kurdish men and women, most in their teens to their late 30s, holding up anti-Turkish banners, chanting slogans, and pumping their fists in the air as they protested repressive conditions in Turkey. European and U.S. policy analysts frequently refer to the Kurdish regional conflict by calling it the “Kurdish question.” The term incorporates a wide range of issues but essentially demarcates the deeply entrenched struggle over the implementation of democracy, the recognition of plurality, and the definition of modernization in the Turkish context. A significant element of the Kurdish question relates to the role played by a militant, nationalist organization best known by its acronym PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), which stands for the Kurdish Workers Party. The PKK was formed in the early 1970s as a Marxist-Leninist revolutionary organization with the aim of dismantling Turkey’s political system. Abdullah Öcalan, the now-imprisoned leader of the PKK, established the organization along with a group of 16 leftist students. Most founding members of the inner circle of the PKK, including Öcalan, studied political science at Ankara University and became radicalized by their immediate political environments. As activist students they gained significant expertise in organizing and networking though their involvement in hard left political circles and their connections with youth movements. Ideologically, the founding members of the PKK were committed to principles that ranged from socialist to communist in orientation. A sense of profound disillusionment with leftist political parties in Turkey led to the idea to form the PKK as a militant guerrilla organization. Increasingly, ethnic Kurdish students felt deeply marginalized by the majority of the Turkish left since Kurdish cultural, language, and nationalist concerns had been minimized by Turkish parties. Yet, it is important to note that the founding members of the PKK included both Turkish students as well as nationalist Kurdish students. Several factors created the necessary conditions for a wave of Kurdish nationalist politics to emerge in the 1960s and 1970s. Kurdish intellectuals formed cultural clubs and political organizations in major Turkish cities such as Ankara and Istanbul. This development inspired ethnic demands among Kurdish students in the decades that followed. Leading Kurdish intellectuals focused on three main objectives: They advocated for the Kurdish language to be recognized as an official language in Turkey; they pushed for Kurds to receive proportional representation in Turkey’s parliament; and they wanted Kurds to gain the right to establish a Kurdish-controlled state bureaucracy to manage economic development plans in the southeastern provinces. The political emphasis on Kurdish culture and self-government was a response

Introduction: From Diyarbakir to Western Europe

3

to Turkish state efforts to forcibly assimilate Kurds. For example, the Turkish state made peasant families send their children to state-run boarding schools so that Kurdish children would speak Turkish and lose their familiarity with Kurdish culture and customs. As a reaction against repressive state policies, Kurdish intellectuals instigated massive student protests, which were followed by the formation of a range of leftist and nationalist Kurdish parties and revolutionary organizations. After years of public unrest, violence, and clashes between supporters of leftist and right-wing organizations, Turkey’s army carried out a military coup in 1971. Leaders of leftist organizations, parties, trade unions, and revolutionary youth groups were arrested, imprisoned, and killed. In addition, deplorable prison conditions in Turkey, particularly following the 1980 military coup, helped to incubate multiple generations of Kurdish guerrilla members and militants. Neither the PKK’s dogmatic insistence on Marxist-Leninist ideology nor its authoritarian leadership style of “democratic-centralism” stood out in comparison with other revolutionary movements at the time. Yet, it is important to separate the PKK from similar movements in other regions of the world. The PKK was a particularly virulent form of ethnic nationalism as a consequence of state repression. It is therefore useful to pay specific attention to the forms of state repression in an examination of the PKK. In addition, it is significant to note that Öcalan moved the PKK guerrilla operations out of major urban areas into the countryside to mobilize the Kurdish peasantry. This strategic move by the PKK explains why the guerrilla organization also has been called Maoist-inspired. In rural areas the PKK pursued the creation of an independent Kurdish state to gain the support of the predominantly Kurdish population in the southeastern provinces of Turkey. In 1984 the PKK initiated its brutal insurgency against the Turkish state and directed its assassination campaigns against both security forces and civilians it deemed collaborators with the state. In response to the growing security threat, Turkey implemented martial law which led to extensive human rights violations committed on both sides against the civilian population. During the mid 1990s the PKK relied on a force estimated to have peaked at 10,000 to 15,000 guerrillas (some sources suggest up to 50,000 guerrillas) and received extensive logistical and financial support from thousands of sympathizers in Turkey, Syria, Iraq, Iran, and Western Europe. The organization established parallel structures in Western Europe to increase pressure on the Turkish government from abroad. PKK cadres dominated Kurdish diaspora politics for more than a decade starting in the 1980s. After Öcalan’s capture in 1999, the guerrilla movement in Turkey began to disintegrate and lost approximately a third of its fighting force. Its primary base of support in Turkey existed among rural Kurdish peasants and Kurdish migrants who had settled in Turkish shanty towns after being displaced from their villages because of the insurgency. Despite its decline as a

4

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guerrilla force in Turkey, the PKK and its widespread web of sympathizers continue to conduct extensive fundraising efforts in Europe. The organization has been accused of financing its guerrilla and political operations through blackmail schemes, involvement in drug trafficking, and massive tax collection efforts that are linked to transnational criminal enterprises in the region. In an effort to re-organize itself, the PKK underwent a series of name changes over the past eight years. In 2002, the PKK proclaimed that it would now be called the Kurdistan Freedom and Democracy Congress (KADEK) to demonstrate its commitment to nonviolent political activities. In 2003, the PKK initiated another name change by calling itself Kongra-Gel (People’s Congress of Kurdistan or KGK) but that effort has been largely ineffective. In Europe the PKK relies on strong support from within the Kurdish diaspora, which became radicalized after the 1980 military coup in Turkey. Over time, the PKK’s European political structures transformed themselves into a serious political challenge to the Turkish state once cadres reduced their insistence on the use of violence. As militants transitioned to Kurdish political activists and framed their struggle as a pursuit for minority rights and human rights, they gained important support from numerous leftist political organizations, activist groups, and political parties in Europe. Today, the Kurdish minority pursues official recognition as an ethnic minority in Turkey, demands the implementation of socio-cultural and political group rights, and aims to establish an autonomous Kurdish region (or a federal arrangement modeled after northern Iraq). Even the PKK has expressed increasing support for the notion of a negotiated settlement with the Turkish state. As a consequence of noteworthy political successes by the Kurdish minority in neighboring northern Iraq, the PKK now considers alternative paths to the implementation of Kurdish self-government. Its European-based branches emphasize the political mobilization of diaspora Kurds in favor of Kurdish self-government. The primary focus of this book is to examine the transformation of the PKK from an organization that predominantly pursued a guerrilla strategy in Turkey to one that established parallel political structures in Europe.

PROTEST MARCHES IN EUROPE During protest events in Germany children of Kurdish descent, dressed in red, white, and green, the colors of the Kurdish national flag, followed their parents as if it were a typical family outing on a Sunday afternoon. Often, such marches culminated in celebratory gatherings at public parks or in rented soccer stadiums where speakers rallied the participants and popular musicians performed traditional Kurdish lute music. Many of the protest events had been organized by members of the PKK. They initially arrived in

Introduction: From Diyarbakir to Western Europe

5

West Germany following the 1980 Turkish military coup and, once in Europe, focused on politicizing the established guest worker communities. Starting in the 1960s, Turkish laborers had flocked to West-German factories to take semi-skilled jobs on assembly lines, in coal mining, and in road construction. Many also toiled as street sweepers and municipal garbage collectors. But when a recession followed the 1973 oil embargo, West Germany’s government focused on reducing the number of foreign workers in the country. Despite policies aimed at restricting further labor migration between 1973 and 1983, the actual percentage of foreign residents in West Germany increased to 7.5 percent as a consequence of family unification policies and generous asylum regulations. By the mid-1980s, occasional observers of Kurdish political activities wondered how militant PKK members had managed to gain entry into Western Europe, and why the PKK appeared to find fertile ground for recruitment within Kurdish migrant communities in the diaspora. These questions turned out to be more complex and multifaceted than most public officials and security experts anticipated at the time. Nearly 30 years after the radicalization of the Kurdish minority in Europe, the conflict between the Turkish state and the PKK remains unresolved. This book scrutinizes the PKK’s transnational linkages and its strategic choices in Europe and in Turkey, and aims to explicate the dynamics that drive the convoluted interactions between Kurdish militants, Turkish civil society, and the Turkish state. In addition, it is important to include the U.S. government’s role in Iraq and the European Union’s consideration of Turkey as a future member state. Turkey’s political leadership has long misjudged the growing complexities of the international dimensions of the Kurdish conflict. Neither economic development in isolation of political measures nor the forced incorporation or assimilation of the Kurdish minority into state structures will provide a viable alternative to resolve the dilemma. By offering a constructive critique of Turkish, European, and U.S. policies directed at the Kurdish conflict, a window opens up into the unsettled socio-political position of the Kurdish minority in Turkey. The Militant Kurds: A Dual Strategy for Freedom attempts to emphasize the centrality of international dynamics by expanding the narrow view that focuses on Turkish domestic terrorism concerns. A closer examination of the role of Kurdish migration and transnational activism provides insights into policy failures among European governments to appropriately assist Turkey in addressing and eventually resolving the Kurdish conflict. Each chapter focuses on different political angles and activities in Turkey, evaluates policies in neighboring countries such as Iraq and Iran, and offers insights into developments in Western Europe to examine alternatives to the dominant Turkish security paradigm. International collaboration will be necessary to resolve this conflict since complex relationships between activist Kurds and PKK structures raise suspicion and often lead to counterproductive policy decisions in Brussels and in Ankara.

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As militant Kurds pursue a political rather than a guerrilla strategy inside Europe, it is essential to integrate an analysis of the widening array of tactics employed by Kurdish activists abroad. Lastly, this book evaluates the effectiveness of growing international pressure to find a negotiated solution to the Kurdish conflict, which could weaken the PKK organically. This book advocates for a process of strengthening Turkish and Kurdish civil society organizations and maintains that pressure exerted by the European Union (EU) contributes to the implementation of reforms in Turkey. In sum, civil society activism and supranational pressure from the EU is expected to raise awareness about the benefits of political and cultural plurality. It supports a continued process of social integration, and encourages improvements in the implementation of human rights principles in Turkey. A marked progression toward enhanced socio-cultural and political rights for the Kurdish minority will erode support for the PKK. If such a process is initiated, some elements within the PKK can be expected to intensify their attacks on military outposts or even in urban environments to maintain relevancy. It is unrealistic to assume that the PKK will simply melt away after nearly 30 years of guerrilla activity. Constructive international models exist that indicate how to incentivize a process of societal reintegration of guerrilla members and how to pursue fact-finding missions with the aim of publicly disclosing crimes that were committed during periods of conflict. While an emphasis on scrutinizing Kurdish militants and the PKK seems obvious, Turkish society must also continue to change. Turkey has to curtail the military’s ability to influence and shape public policy choices, and thereby reduce the disempowering influence the military has had on the implementation and grounding of democratic principles. Civil society groups serve an important role in such a process of transformation. By refusing to become co-opted through paternalistic approaches to governing and by increasing pressure on elected officials to add more transparency to policy debates, civic groups assert an independent form of agency. Turkish society has been reluctant to challenge the status quo and often shies away from demanding a genuine democratic space. As citizens, all members of society need to re-shape and re-imagine their own roles in public life. By shifting away from the dominant emphasis on a collective identity, individuals are granted the opportunity to take part in a personalized version of civic engagement. Imagining oneself as an active participant in a nation where everyone matters and has the right to question and challenge is a path worth pursuing.

THE EMERGENCE OF DIASPORA POLITICS Cold War realities shaped Turkey’s societal sense of collective identity and influenced the country’s foreign policy choices, particularly during the 1970s and 1980s. The Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan (1979–1989)

Introduction: From Diyarbakir to Western Europe

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and Iran’s newly installed theocratic regime following the Islamic revolution in 1979 dominated both Turkish and Western European headlines. Fearful of Soviet expansionism and Iranian religious fervor, Europe embraced Turkey’s assertively secular and Western-oriented government. In turn, Turkey took the opportunity to solidify its role as a reliable and important NATO ally. From a center-right, socially conservative and security dominated political perspective in Western Europe, Turkey served as an effective buffer state against Soviet aggression while also controlling the border with fundamentalist Iran. Progressive European opposition parties and human rights networks, however, paid attention to the conduct of Turkey’s military, which had staged one coup d’état in 1971, and another in 1980. Leftist political parties, human rights organizations, solidarity networks, and trade unionists expressed increasingly vocal criticism of the Turkish military’s conduct, and managed to block a sizable OECD (Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development) aid and loan package to Turkey after the 1980 military coup.1 A growing number of Turkish students, political activists, and trade unionists as well as nationalist Kurds arrived in Europe in the 1980s to claim refugee status. At the time, West Germany offered the most liberal asylum policies in Europe, which were established originally to atone for the country’s crimes committed during the Third Reich. Not surprisingly, the majority of the political refugees from Turkey settled in West Germany to join relatives and friends among the established guest worker communities. Some arrived with connections to Kurdish nationalist and PKK circles, while others settled with clear orders to establish political action networks. Once the West-German government significantly restricted its asylum guidelines for political refugees from Turkey, many more Kurdish refugees entered the country carrying falsified documents from Syria and Iran. PKK networks rotated cadres from Turkey to Syria to Europe and back to Turkey. Others paid high fees to human smuggling rings, ranging from $3,000 to $20,000, for safe passage to a European country.2 Despite an obvious bifurcation between politicized Turkish and Kurdish refugees and the original Turkish labor migrants, West-German society failed to make a distinction between the various groups arriving from Turkey. In general, Germans simply categorized all migrants holding Turkish passports as Turkish Gastarbeiter (guest workers) because of the misguided notion that the vast majority came primarily to earn money before returning to their home country. The West-German public immediately used the term Ausländer (foreigners) to delineate all people perceived as temporary residents and, as such, excluded from full socio-political participation in society. In a parallel development in East Germany, the communist leadership had granted temporary work permits to laborers from Vietnam, Cuba, and Mozambique to express the regime’s solidarity with other socialist governments. Most temporary workers in East Germany were expected to return

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to their native countries following a three-year work rotation designed to help transfer industrial skills to developing countries. But many foreign workers stayed for extended periods of time in East Germany and eventually applied for asylum in Germany after the country was reunited in October 1990. In both West and East Germany, an immigrant’s lack of fluency or mastery of grammar in German revealed a person’s different ethnic and socio-economic background, as did specific behavior codes, physical appearances, employment histories, or even a neighborhood address. Traditional labor migrants from Turkey lived on the periphery of mainstream society and had few opportunities to interact with West Germans outside of work. Before the arrival of politicized refugees from Turkey, German society was unaware of the existence of the Kurdish minority, since few Kurds had ever publicly mentioned or asserted their separate ethnicity. But not long after the 1980 military coup in Turkey a growing number of Kurdish nationalists gained entry into West Germany under asylum provisions and changed this dynamic. By the mid-1980s, PKK representatives endorsed a massive protest campaign to empower Kurds to assert their ethnic background not only in Germany but throughout Western Europe or wherever Kurdish families had settled. Former PKK guerrilla members and political cadres soon established themselves as influential agitators by condemning rigid social stratifications in German society. They pointed out that the German government effectively discriminated against Kurds by demonstrating an unwillingness to recognize the Kurdish minority as an ethnic group separate from Turkish nationals. The PKK quickly and convincingly framed German policies as a mere extension of the ethno-cultural repression Kurds experienced in Turkey. Initially, PKK operatives focused their attention on Germany and the Netherlands, but soon expanded its cells into all European countries where migrants from Turkey resided. Within a decade, the PKK had developed into a militant organization posing a serious threat to public order in many inner city and immigrant neighborhoods throughout Europe. In the summer and fall of 1993, the PKK carried out violent assaults on Turkish citizens and damaged Turkish-owned properties in more than 30 German cities, including the Duisburg sections of Hochheide and Marxloh—a mere 30 minute train ride from Düsseldorf. The PKK held Germany complicit in the persecution of Kurds in Turkey, claiming that their crime wave was justified as a defensive act in the face of Kurdish repression in Turkey. The accusation was not unfounded. The German government had signed a number of arms deals with Ankara, and the Turkish military promptly used the newly acquired German equipment to eradicate Kurdish guerrilla units. Kurdish towns and villages suffered through a lengthy period of dreadful counter-insurgency strategies. By the fall of 1993, the PKK and its affiliated organizations were banned in Germany, yet PKK cadres only increased their level of activism and

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aggression against representatives of the Turkish state in Europe. Kurdish demonstrators battled anti-riot police in the streets and Turkish-owned businesses were firebombed. Abdullah Öcalan, the leader of the PKK, proclaimed in 1996 that the organization had declared war on Germany, and that every Kurd was a potential suicide bomber. Despite this heinous threat, the PKK carefully avoided harming German citizens. Instead, PKK cadres injured and killed Turkish officials in Germany, targeted Turkish-owned or managed businesses, and intimidated Turkish-state sponsored civic and religious organizations across Europe. Just a decade after the arrival of PKK cadres, German society was fully aware of the Kurdish minority in Turkey and its radicalized politics in Europe. The PKK depended on Kurdish agitators and supporters abroad for its extensive fundraising purposes, but made sure that its activities would not endanger foreign networks. Instead of implementing a suicide bombing campaign in Germany, the PKK rotated militants in and out of Europe to hide them from Turkish authorities. This aided the PKK as it built up linkages to leftist political organizations across European borders. By increasing international pressure on Turkey to force a military withdrawal from the predominantly Kurdish regions in the southeast of Turkey, the PKK established the basic parameters for its eventual employment of a dual strategy against the Turkish state. The PKK not only pursued hard guerrilla tactics against representatives of the Turkish state including landowners, the military, and the Jandarma (military police), but also targeted low-level bureaucrats who they classified as complicit. But throughout Europe, the PKK emphasized a much softer approach by focusing on political mobilization and fundraising efforts. In many ways the PKK waged a classic insurgency with its embrace of violence and its willingness to terrorize, yet above all the PKK was a politically agile organization that could not be eradicated by a straightforward counter-insurgency campaign. Three factors created constant problems for the Turkish state: the PKK’s ethno-nationalist appeal, its European political and financial support structures, and the organization’s willingness to reshape its objectives over time.

THE POLITICS OF LANGUAGE Critical readers may have noticed that I have carefully avoided using the words terrorist or terrorism so far. Instead, I have described the PKK as a militant or radical organization that employed a guerrilla strategy and used combatants and cadres to carry out specific assignments. Clearly, there have been and there will be times when an act committed by members of the PKK is so heinous that no other word but terrorism can apply to the horrors experienced by the victims. But the word terrorism has been entirely overused and politicized in recent years. This has compromised the word’s real

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The Militant Kurds

meaning and magnitude. In addition, the broadly-applied label of terrorism is often used to justify extraordinary rendition procedures permitting abusive interrogation techniques and torture. Similarly, I avoid describing horrendous violence planned and perpetrated by members of the military establishment as acts of terrorism. Framing such conduct as terrorism will not allow for an examination of the circumstances that brought forth or permitted the despicable acts to begin with. For example, U.S. Lieutenant William Calley, initially convicted of premeditated murder during the Vietnam War, has not been called a terrorist for his disturbing mass killings in the Vietnamese village of My Lai.3 Another example that illustrates the futility of the term terrorism is the categorization of indigenous Maya URNG (National Revolutionary Unity) combatants in Guatemala as terrorists. The label of terrorism fails to capture the conditions on the ground in Guatemala that created an odious system of violence and cruelty. It is essential to think analytically about these events—to consider not only what took place, but why and how the structures of violence developed and escalated. Examining the underlying causes for violence in Turkey demands a disciplined, rational approach that transcends rhetoric, politicization, and visceral reactions. While outrage is natural and even necessary, it is important that events not become obfuscated with raw emotional accusations of terrorism when rational evaluative skills are required to excavate and investigate all the aspects of what occurred. At times I use the infinitive to terrorize because it accurately describes the conduct of both representatives of states and of non-state actors. It is the civilian populations that frequently are caught between competing militant groups such as the PKK and the so-called village guards, sponsored, equipped, and managed by the Turkish state. While everyone involved in violent conflict experiences fear, it is predominantly the civilians who feel abject terror when they are coerced by threats and violence. Under such circumstances it may be most accurate to describe civilians as being terrorized, especially when eyewitness accounts relay such judgments. Another complication related to the use of language is the act of naming a person or a geographic space or location. Place names and family names are not neutral in many countries, but often contain specific historical and political meanings. This is particularly the case when place names are disputed following the dissolution of an empire or when a post-colonial process of appropriation took place. In regard to family names, for a long time Turkey did not permit the use of traditional Kurdish names, often indicated by the letters Q, W, and X. As late as 2008, a young boy by the first name of Welat, born and named in Germany by parents who had received refugee status there, was denied entry to Turkey because he had an unapproved, illegal first name.4 Another example to illustrate the politics of naming is Kurdish-American activist Kani Xulam, Director of the American-Kurdish Information Network

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(AKIN) in Washington, DC. When I asked him about the significance of his name, he explained that he had adopted a Kurdish name to protest against Turkey’s repression of the Kurdish language. His first name, Kani, translates to “Spring Well” in the Kurdish language and his last name, Xulam, means “Public Servant.” Xulam mentioned that he was inspired to change his name to assert a Kurdish self and thereby “discard his Turkish shell” after reading Gandhi’s autobiography. As a young man, Xulam decided that the name change would be an important step to take for a transition to an authentic self that would embrace a genuine Kurdish identity. When Xulam left Turkey after the 1980 military coup, Kurdish people were not recognized as an ethnic minority but instead labeled as Turks from the east. The denial of ethnicity was not a new practice in Turkish politics, but had been used since the formation of the modern Turkish Republic in 1923. Early on, the state began to de-emphasize linguistic, religious and ethnic distinctions to create a unified and homogenous nation-state, which initially manifested itself through the use of another hated term by nationalist Kurds, namely “Mountain Turks.” The Turkish Republic preferred to use this euphemism from the 1930s to the 1970s to purposefully obfuscate the number of linguistic minority members in the country. Turkish authorities used the category “Mountain Turks” to statistically disguise the presence of Muslim minorities in the last national census that incorporated a linguistic component—a census that was completed in 1965. Just like naming a person or a people, naming a geographic space can become an act of political defiance. Officially, there is no territory in Turkey called Northern Kurdistan, since this is the irredentist name for what the Turkish government calls Southeast Anatolia. This area is densely populated by ethnic Kurds, who sometimes call the region and its towns by different names. The Turkish government has renamed some spaces to erase historical memory, as in the case of Dersim, now called Tunceli. Atatürk likened the region to “an abscess that should be pierced” during a speech in 1935, which precipitated the name change to Tunceli.5 Turkish troops suppressed a series of Dersim Kurdish/Alevi revolts during 1936–1938 with the aim to civilize the population and to defeat the regional feudal structures. In light of such historical understanding and the harm caused by renaming Dersim, language must be applied in a precise manner. To avoid sending unintended political messages, I prefer to identify the predominantly Kurdish regions of Turkey as the southeastern provinces. Yet, it is important to remember that other minorities also live in the predominantly Kurdish regions or southeastern provinces. In addition to Sunni and Alevi Kurdish communities, Armenians, Assyrians, and Laz also populate these same provinces. Among the officially designated minorities in Turkey are Armenians, Jews, and Rumlar. All three groupings are classified as religious minorities according to recent reports published by Minority Rights Group International (MRG).6 But Muslim ethnic minority communities in Turkey

12

The Militant Kurds

are not officially designated as minorities, including the large Kurdish minority. According to MRG “estimated numbers [of Kurds] claimed by various sources range from 10 to 23 per cent [sic] of the population. . . . Kurds speak Kurdish, which is divided into Kurmanci, Zaza and other dialects. The majority are Sunni Muslims, while a significant number are Alevis.”7 Based on the limited data available, it is reasonable to estimate that Kurds number between 12 and 15 million people among a total Turkish population of 72 million, or between 16 and 20 percent of the population of Turkey.8 Ethnic Kurds tend to live predominantly in the southeastern provinces, although large Kurdish communities have settled in the urban areas of central Anatolia and in Istanbul. Another 1 million Kurds reside permanently abroad in Western Europe and many have accepted European citizenships in the past decade. Among the ethnic Kurdish communities in Europe, the percentage of Muslim minority representation is higher than in Turkey. Many more Alevi Kurds and Yezidi (or Yazidi) Kurds left Turkey than Sunni Kurds. Estimates suggest that nearly all Yezidi Kurds emigrated from Turkey to resettle in Europe, leaving just a few hundred remaining Yezidis dispersed throughout Turkey (although larger communities exist in northern Iraq). Interestingly, Europe’s best-known Kurdish-German politician is a Yezidi woman by the name of Feleknas Uca, whose parents left Turkey for Germany in the 1970s.

OBSTACLES TO EU MEMBERSHIP In November 2007, Turkish colleagues invited me to Istanbul’s Sabanci University to participate in a conference and to present findings on transnational Kurdish civil society activism. The two-day event focused on exploring Turkish, Islamic, and Kurdish interpretations of nationalism at a time when ultra-nationalists called for daily protest marches along Istanbul’s most famous avenue, Istiklal Caddesi (Independence Avenue). Confident that a solution to the Kurdish question could be negotiated despite the marked increase in violence along the Iraqi-Turkish border, I looked forward to the exchanges of ideas and insights between representatives of civil society organizations and academics. Making my way to the conference venue, I noticed that nearly every house displayed Turkish flags. This differed from my last visit to the city just a year earlier, when only a few apartments had prominently displayed flags. Turkish nationalism was on the rise because of both the recent electoral successes by the leading Muslim party, Justice and Development (AKP), and ambushes carried out by PKK guerrilla units. Along the way, I ran into a large group of protesters who held up posters decorated with a white crescent moon and star, symbols from the Turkish national flag, and displayed photographs of young men. Waving flags to

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proclaim their national allegiance, some protesters held signs that read ölmez bölünmez (eternally indivisible), in a call to solidarity against those who “attack Turkey’s national unity,” as I was told by participants.9 I learned that the posters displayed pictures of Turkish soldiers killed by the PKK, and then realized that some of the men chanted slogans demanding military action to avenge their deaths. Sensing potential trouble, I walked past the protesters and wondered if the opportunity for a negotiated arrangement had slipped away. I also speculated about possible motivations for the PKK’s increase in the use of violence. Did the PKK leadership believe that violence enhanced their inclusion in a negotiated settlement? Clearly, ultra-nationalist militant groups including the neo-fascist Grey Wolves and right-wing political parties such as the Turkish National Action Party (MHP) benefited from heightened tensions and the rise in violence. As nationalist leaders framed public support for the Justice and Development Party (AKP) and the PKK’s brazen attacks against the state as an existential threat to the nation, they effectively mobilized nationalist activists and voters. At the conference, distinguished scholar and Professor Emeritus Şerif Mardin opened with an insightful presentation. Mardin, best known for developing the concept of “Turkish Exceptionalism,” argued that the Ottomans advanced their own version of modernity in the nineteenth century, which informed the secularism that emerged after 1923 under Atatürk’s direction. In his seminal body of work, most notably in The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, he proposed that secularism emerged from within the reforming structures of Ottoman society along with the focus on rational thought and modernity. Mardin convincingly pointed to the intellectual influence of a group of young Ottoman intellectuals who carefully reflected on the influences of Islam and the ideas of enlightenment many decades before the demise of the Ottoman Empire.10 When the occasion arose at the conference, I asked Mardin if EU pressure would advance democratization efforts in Turkey, or perhaps speed up the implementation of human rights principles in the country. His response was a resounding no. Mardin seemed to reject the idea that Turkey’s understanding of democracy matched Europe’s norms, although the country clearly had situated itself in the Western camp all throughout the Cold War period. Mardin’s response probably reflected his decades-long effort to question assertions by both domestic and foreign scholars that the impetus for Turkish modernization along with secularization emerged only after the formation of the modern Turkish Republic in 1923. To him this was an anti-historical approach to explaining developments in Turkish society. It ignored a range of domestic influences that shaped processes of change, such as those Mardin identified during the rise of the Ottoman bureaucratic class and the Tanzimat reformist era (1839–1878). In his writings, Mardin has demonstrated a tendency to balance the weight of European ideas with authentic intellectual developments from

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The Militant Kurds

inside Turkey. He has argued repeatedly that socio-cultural domestic changes created a fertile ground for the synthesis of various ideological influences that have shaped modern Turkey. Mardin clearly rejected the notion that change can be imported, superimposed, and stitched together by outside forces, as had been suggested in Western capitals since colonial times. Most recently, the George W. Bush administration employed such a strategy in Iraq by transferring and essentially superimposing a governing structure complete with its inherent value system. Along with many other scholars in the Middle East, Mardin has sought to strengthen the influence of intellectual capital that favors socio-culturally and religiously-genuine reforms that organically emerged from within the region. I remain hopeful, however, that the EU process will offer benefits to the people of Turkey, and that it will eventually encourage a resolution of the Kurdish conflict. Receiving an invitation to Turkey to discuss Kurdish transnational civil society activism demonstrates a full commitment to identifying a common future. It is part of an inclusive process willing to accept new versions of authenticity and a blend of ideas acknowledging transnational influences on Turkey’s civil society interactions. As a reflection of this development, this book focuses on recent policy choices that have been supported as well as rejected by political parties, civil society organizations, ethnic communities, and individuals. The intent is to offer insights into policies that impact Turkish society and its Kurdish minority. It is not an effort to present an historical analysis or to report on human rights conditions in Turkey. I hope to provide insights to a general readership on the Kurdish question, the PKK, and what both Turkish society and the European Union can contribute to encourage the formation of a more just and democratic Turkey. To achieve this, I evaluate the patterns and agendas of multiple political participants, including the United States, the Turkish government and various Turkish organizations involved in policy-making and shaping, individual European governments, the PKK and its assorted militant subgroups, diverse Kurdish communities and their representatives, and civil society actors. I do not embrace the Turkish Republic’s assertive secular ideology when it denies a place to Islam, nor do I intend to enhance a process of alienation (Entfremdung) between peripheral social groups and the established centers of power. By having applied for full EU membership Turkey agreed to open itself up to international scrutiny and procedural review. It may take many more acts of courage for Turkish society to collaborate with the international community in search of a solution to the Kurdish conflict. Several opportunities to resolve the Kurdish question have been missed along the way. No politician since former President Turgut Özal has demonstrated the necessary political will or stature to pursue a direct path toward recognition of the Kurdish minority.11 His unexpected death of natural causes in 1993 ended the search for a solution.

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Another opportunity followed with the capture of PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan in 1999, but the Turkish establishment ignored it. In 2007, after the Justice and Development Party enjoyed its tremendous electoral success across the country, including in predominantly Kurdish regions, many observers of the conflict perceived another chance for a negotiated settlement. So far, the AKP has been a disappointment as its leadership has focused on influencing electoral outcomes rather than pursuing a lasting peace. The March 2009 municipal elections in Turkey indicated a significant loss in public support for the AKP, reflecting growing voter disillusionment in the face of economic and social challenges. This negative trend continued as Turkey’s Constitutional Court banned the Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP) on December 11, 2009 after finding it guilty of having links with PKK militants. The court’s decision was a major setback to civil society finding a viable solution to the conflict. During January 2010, perceptions in Germany were extremely negative toward developments in the Turkish state. The AKP’s Kurdish Initiative was declared “dead” and public opinion regarding the ban and arrest of DTP parliamentarians and mayors in major Kurdish cities can be summed up by quoting a German voter who stated, “It is outrageous that elected representatives of the nation are simply arrested . . . and these people want to join the EU? No, thank you.”12 Yet new opportunities are sure to emerge in Turkey because of the noticeable assertiveness among civil society organizations in Turkey, the continued emphasis on transnational collaboration between European civil society groups and those located in Turkey, and ongoing efforts to implement the rule of law across the entire country.

1 R

Framing the Conflict

MODERNIZATION AND WESTERNIZATION Turkey’s secular political elites, including the state’s military establishment and judicial bureaucracy, have long suggested that the demise of the Ottoman Empire was related to Islam’s incompatibility with science and rational thought. In 2002, Metin Camciğil, then President of the Atatürk Society of America, articulated this notion for the Turkish diaspora by suggesting that “it is the conquest of the people over theocratic oppression, and the victory of science over dogma that made the Western transformation possible.”1 In this often repeated perspective among Turkey’s elites, the Muslim faith was perceived to present a clear stumbling block to modernization because it hampered scientific progress in modern Turkey. The republic’s founder, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, had embraced Europe as the source of rational thought and modernization in a break with what he considered to be outmoded and backward faith-based traditions. Under his political leadership, rapid Westernization became the ultimate goal in the pursuit of enlightenment, even by decree during times when segments of the population seemed unprepared to discard their traditional values. Today’s guardians of Atatürk’s legacy continue to identify pious Muslims as a reactionary force; perceive them as fanatical, backward-thinking and deficient; and often describe them as suffering from “cobwebs in the head.”2 In the name of Atatürk, secular elites feel compelled to enforce a governing structure that controls, manages, and curtails religious influences in the state’s bureaucracy. The perception that religious fanatics and opponents of modernization must be kept at bay to protect the nation from regressing is

Framing the Conflict

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what drives a significant portion of Turkish public policy. The state’s bureaucracy maintains a social and class-based delineation to distinguish between those that are accepted as modern rational thinkers and others excluded for their reactionary orthodoxy or opposition to ethnic assimilation. In secular Kemalist circles, in other words among supporters of Kemal Atatürk’s ideology, politically engaged Kurdish communities automatically fall into a category of people to be excluded from the rational and scientific segment of society. Kurdish adherence to varying degrees of village-based identities and tribal structures, and their insistence on ethnic minority status with its linguistic, cultural, and religious divergence from what is perceived to represent the Turkish “mainstream” continue to present a challenge to the state’s idealized notions of Turkishness. While most Kurds are Sunni Muslims, about 15 percent adhere to Shiite beliefs and embrace heterodox manifestations of faith, for example the Alevi and Yezidi Kurdish communities. At the same time, millions of Kurds have been assimilated into Turkish society and subscribe to Turkish nationalist perspectives. As Graham Fuller suggested, “Kurds in Turkey can and regularly do rise to the highest positions within the state—on the condition that they ignore their Kurdish heritage and accept assimilation as Turks.”3 Secular Turks often misinterpret this reality as a sign that state-directed policies of assimilation have helped to overcome ethnic discrimination in Turkey. Many also assume that assimilation policies present an opportunity to modernize Turkey further. In this context it is not surprising that Turkey’s secular elites exhibit a profound interest in establishing close relations with Europe. After all, Europe is to many Turks the epitome of rational and scientific Western thought. With the end of World War II, Turkey confirmed its Western orientation by joining The Council of Europe (CoE) in 1949, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in 1952, and The Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) in 1973. For decades during the Cold War Turkey focused on strengthening its commitment to modernization by presenting itself as a reliable Western ally in a troubled region. Turkey’s Western-oriented elites dominated the bureaucracy, the military, and the judiciary, and influenced Kemalist, center-right, and nationalist parties. Believing that the country’s Western orientation served as an indispensable counterweight to the dangerous influences of communism and religious fundamentalism, state elites advanced the notion that Turkey would be better prepared to absorb reform efforts through a broadly defined concept of Westernization and economic transformation. With the proper ideological superstructure, they argued, challenges related to the integration of technological and social change would be less disruptive during periods of state-driven industrialization efforts. The modern Turkish Republic fully committed itself to the Western alliance by the 1950s and incorporated a strong anti-communist, specifically anti-Soviet objective. In contrast to Turkey’s ideological preferences, many Arab states rejected Western influences as driven by imperialist notions.

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The Militant Kurds

Arab leaders embraced varying degrees of Soviet tutelage and were inspired by Egypt’s Gamal Nasser, who interpreted Turkey’s participation in the Western alliance as a grave error because he saw “Western-oriented alliances as a new form of imperialist administration.”4 Turkey’s secular elites loathed such Arab interpretations, because of their anti-Western ideals and promotion of pan-Arab nationalism. In the views of Turkey’s elites, Arab leaders exemplified unsophisticated tribal orientation, fervent religiosity, and irrational thought. To distinguish Turkey from the perceived inferiority of Arab societies, the country devoted itself to fulfilling its assumed role as a reliable, Western-oriented ally. It acted as a bulwark against potential Soviet intervention in the region and guarded Europe’s southern flank. Today Turkey still occupies a significant strategic position within NATO, as the country supports regional security interests by enhancing stability in a turbulent area along its borders with Iraq, Iran, Syria, and in the Caucasus region. But the quality of its relationship with the Muslim world and the West has evolved significantly. In many ways Turkey is demonstrating a new level of confidence by pursuing ambitious and more high-profile roles in the Middle Eastern region and in relation to European allies. Turkish-Syrian political and economic cooperation has improved so extensively that borders are now open and trade is flourishing between the two countries. Arab states took notice when Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan criticized the Israeli military’s disregard for Palestinian civilian life in its attempt to weaken Hamas structures in Gaza during December 2008. In February 2009, Erdoğan even abruptly left the Davos World Economic Forum after an open disagreement over his limited time to respond to remarks made by Israeli President Shimon Peres. Religious Turks and supporters of the Prime Minister’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) celebrated Erdoğan’s symbolic act of solidarity with Palestinians, while his opponents criticized him for embarrassing Turkey on a global level. Some called Erdoğan a hypocrite for criticizing Israeli policies toward Palestinians while he authorized Turkish military and police forces to carry out raids against Kurdish political activists and Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) guerrillas in Turkey. Since the rise of the Justice and Development Party (AKP) in Turkey in 2002, a historically-based notion of multiculturalism, often also defined as neo-Ottomanism, has been resurrected by Turkish scholars.5 Described as the underlying reason for a more active, assertive, and outward looking foreign policy approach in the region, neo-Ottomanism has gained credibility both domestically and abroad. Several Turkish foreign policy initiatives have exemplified this new direction under the AKP. Prime Minister Erdoğan, for instance, offered to serve as an intermediary between Iran’s leadership and the Obama administration, which indicated that Turkey hoped to raise its global political profile. In addition, Turkey’s new political leadership played a significant role in facilitating exchanges between the Israeli government and the Syrian leadership. Yet, neo-Ottomanism has also attracted many

Framing the Conflict

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critics from both the right and the left spectrum. Secular and nationalist Kemalists perceive neo-Ottomanism as grandiose, Islamist-oriented, and backward-looking. Leftist Turks reject neo-Ottomanism because of its emphasis on communal and conservative socio-cultural values rather than on individual or group-based civic, ethnic, and cultural rights. To minority communities, including Kurdish nationalists and those on the left of the political spectrum, neo-Ottomanism is also problematic. It prioritizes and promotes shared values grounded in Islam as a connector between Turkish Muslims and Kurdish Muslims rather than recognizing ethnic and cultural diversity and difference. As envisioned by the AKP, the appeal of neo-Ottomanism would transcend ethnic and religious differences among communities in Turkey. The Kurdish secular left has decried neo-Ottomanism as neo-imperial, because to them neo-Ottomanism aims to sidestep the ethnic Kurdish question by offering an alternative overarching Muslim identity. Kurdish Alevis and Yezidis fear further religious repression as a consequence of identifying Sunni Islam as the sanctioned religious identity in Turkey. And supporters of the PKK in particular have found this ideology counter-productive to their nationalist agenda, since it would weaken ethnic Kurdish support for the guerrilla movement. In the PKK’s neo-Marxist rhetoric, the organization hopes to defeat the structurally antagonistic concept of denying ethnic Kurdishness. Without a doubt, the PKK has classified neo-Ottomanism as grounded in imperial aspirations intended to undermine the minority’s goals. The unresolved Kurdish question has had a deadly effect on Turkish society since the 1980s. Estimates suggest that between 35,000 and 40,000 people have been killed in the war between the PKK and the Turkish state, including vast numbers of civilians, and significant numbers of militants, members of the armed forces, and military police.6 In a country with a total population of about 72 million in 2008, the conflict has had a devastating impact on many families and communities. While not as bloody by far as the guerrilla insurgencies battling repressive military regimes in Central America in the 1970s and 1980s, the PKK’s insurgency has significantly shaped Turkish policies for nearly 30 years.7 The conflict has strained Turkey’s relationship with Europe and neighboring countries, created massive flows of internally displaced people, and drained valuable economic resources away from vital development opportunities. While the mid- to-late 1990s seemed to indicate that a negotiated settlement was within reach, Turkey’s secular establishment was unwilling to accept partial responsibility for the violence that had been perpetrated against Kurdish communities. The Turkish military’s claim to victory following PKK leader Öcalan’s capture in 1999 contributed to the guerrilla movement’s re-engagement in a classic version of a rural insurgency. The U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003 provided additional opportunities for the PKK to expand its operations from the Iraqi-Turkish border region deep into the mountains of northern Iraq.

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The Militant Kurds

Despite significant changes in the Turkish political landscape since the AKP’s electoral victory and Erdoğan’s election in 2002, the obstacles to identifying plausible parameters for a negotiated settlement remain daunting. The Turkish military demands an end to all hostilities and the capitulation of the guerrilla forces prior to agreeing to negotiations. Meanwhile, the PKK continues its dual strategy of guerrilla ambushes in Turkey, while expanding its political linkages, fundraising efforts, and recruitment operations in Europe. Within EU member states, the PKK has created a broadly supportive and legitimized network of legal experts, human rights activists, and environmental specialists, along with connections to scholars, media professionals, and technologically skilled members of the Kurdish diaspora. While Turkey’s government struggles to identify a legitimate path for the future—torn between the Kemalist interpretation of the PKK as an existential threat and the neo-Ottoman attempt to co-opt the Kurdish population—European public officials have become increasingly disillusioned with Turkey’s lack of progress toward a resolution.

MILITARY DEMOCRACY Following Erdoğan’s election, Turkey clearly demonstrated a strong desire to move beyond its status as an associate member of the EU by pursuing full-fledged membership status. Turkey’s elite favored becoming an equal partner in Europe, which would help to fulfill the country’s economic potential and link Turkey’s entrepreneurial class to European and global trade networks. Energized by an ideology that framed Europeanization as the ultimate aim in completing the lengthy process of modernization, consecutive Turkish governments had pushed for reform. Demonstrating a high level of determination and political will, Turkey positioned itself for a future within the network of European institutions. This process worked well during the Cold War and continued into the new millennium despite domestic socio-political problems along the way. Among the obstacles that continued to resurface was the country’s glacial pace toward democratization in the post-Cold War era. Restrictions to civil liberties, the influence of the military on civilian affairs, and the denial of socio-cultural rights for ethnic minorities appeared repeatedly in discussions that were held between European and Turkish officials. Turkey implemented a series of reforms in the late 1990s that resulted in the initiation of accession negotiations between the EU and the Turkish government in 2005. Since then, however, a pattern of reluctance to embrace substantive reforms manifested itself in the country. Turkey’s enthusiastic support for further change dissipated, and European governments raised serious doubts regarding Turkey’s institutional willingness to embrace further democratization efforts. Observers of Turkish politics identified national security concerns on both the regional and domestic levels as among the underlying causes for

Framing the Conflict

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the country’s tepid endorsement of further institutional reforms. One of the most profound developments that reshaped Turkey’s national security assessments was related to the George W. Bush administration’s decision to invade Iraq in March 2003. In the aftermath of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, the Turkish public expressed a deep sense of solidarity with and sympathy for the United States. But Turkey’s public overwhelmingly rejected the second Bush administration’s effort to justify an invasion of neighboring Iraq. The country feared negative economic consequences and a massive influx of refugees, especially since it had dealt with more than 450,000 Kurdish refugees following the 1991 Gulf War against Saddam Hussein. To the dismay of the United States government, the newly formed Turkish parliament in 2003 voted against permitting the 4th Infantry Division to stage a ground invasion of Iraq from Turkish soil. Relations between the U.S. government and Turkey cooled temporarily as the U.S. leadership relied on Iraqi-Kurdish logistical support provided by peshmerga forces and intelligence networks in northern Iraq. For an extended period of time (2003– 2007), a symbiotic relationship developed between Kurdish forces in northern Iraq and U.S. military personnel. Hoping to prevent Sunni Arab insurgents from gaining a foothold in the region, the U.S. military depended on Kurdish informants while Iraqi-Kurdish organizations used the presence of U.S. troops to expand and fortify their controls over regional institutions. Turkey’s own Kurdish minority, especially its intellectual leadership and members of militant organizations, carefully observed these developments from across the border. Hoping to identify potential opportunities for themselves, Turkish Kurds began to decode the increasingly strained relationship between Washington and Ankara. The Turkish military and the new government grew alarmed as PKK guerrilla structures took advantage of the unsettled political circumstances in northern Iraq. Militants expanded their existing networks of hidden encampments deeper into the Kandil Mountains of northern Iraq in order to operate outside of the immediate reach of the Turkish armed forces. With the exception of the winter months, when the Turkish air force could more easily spot the movements of guerrilla units, PKK members carried out ambushes against Turkish targets by sneaking across the border. Often they arrived undetected, carried out surprise assaults on police stations or army outposts, and then melted back into the rugged terrain. The Turkish military eventually responded by threatening a massive ground invasion in 2007 if the U.S. military continued to permit PKK units to cross the borders for assaults on Turkish military and police outposts. It was not surprising that these developments created a sense of unease among U.S. government officials, the U.S. military, and regional security experts. Turkey viewed its national security as compromised, and reduced the country’s emphasis on democratization efforts. It was clear that the Turkish military lamented the fact that U.S. and Turkish security interests

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The Militant Kurds

no longer easily overlapped in the region. The combination of the increase of Kurdish cross-border guerrilla attacks, the intensification of sectarian conflict in central Iraq, and Turkey’s concerns over how to deal with an agitated leadership in Iran deeply impacted Turkey’s assessment of regional security policies by 2004. As Iran increasingly felt threatened by the United States, the country’s most public leadership figure, President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, displayed an attitude of defiance. This translated into Tehran’s aggressive posturing in relation to pursuing nuclear capabilities while bolstering its influence in the Shiite provinces of Iraq. The U.S. military focused on curtailing the Iranian influence in Iraq, and mostly ignored developments in the more stable northern Iraqi provinces. Meanwhile, the Turkish military grew more suspicious of the proliferation of weapons along the borders with Iraq and Iran. The questions the military establishment raised related directly to future challenges over the nation’s sovereignty. Would Kurdish militants eventually carve out new territory? Was this an emerging existential threat to the integrity of the Turkish state? Several domestic developments also reduced Turkey’s ability to emphasize democratization measures required for EU membership. Inspired by developments across the border, militant ethnic Kurds intensified their struggle for an autonomous Kurdish region, and Islamic politicians sought a place for religion in public life. The emergence of a viable Islamic reformist party in Turkey under the leadership of Prime Minister Erdoğan contributed to the creation of a heightened sense of concern among both the secular judiciary and the military establishment in Turkey. The country’s military perceived itself as the guardian of the secular republic’s future, and justified temporary intervention in governmental affairs when the state was determined to be under threat. By 2004, the Turkish military identified a dual threat to the republic: growing ethnic separatism and creeping Islamization. Neither development seemed acceptable to the military elite, who now worried about regional as well as domestic security challenges to the country. The Turkish military feared territorial disintegration as Kurds pursued an independent homeland and, at the same time, military leaders agonized over the growing Islamization that they felt undermined Kemalist principles of modernization and Westernization. As the most influential force for modernization and reform in Turkey, the military’s refusal to explicitly endorse and support further democratization efforts made it impossible for civil society and the government to pursue a path of rapid transformation. The level of enthusiasm and pace of reform slowed significantly as the Turkish military disrupted the process of democratic consolidation. The deepening of domestic fault lines, the process of political polarization, and the growing problems related to the U.S. invasion of Iraq prevented unified national focus on preparing Turkey for full EU membership.

Framing the Conflict

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Turkey has been characterized as a military democracy by a number of public intellectuals and scholars including Cenğiz Çandar and Jeremy Salt. Both argue that the atypical responsibility of guardianship claimed by the armed forces in Turkey evidences a military democracy within the larger institutional and political framework of the country.8 In contrast to armed forces in consolidated or liberal democracies, the Turkish military acts as an independent power broker and operates beyond the constitutional controls of democratically elected governments. But the Turkish military’s pervading influence cannot be fully appreciated by arguing that the state apparatus is controlled by the military. Free elections take place at regular intervals and new governing coalitions have been formed for decades. The Turkish military endorses civilian rule and embraces the ideals of democracy, yet it also claims to legitimately serve in the interests of a unified nation when it curtails governments through channels such as the National Security Council (NSC). Turkey’s political culture has been shaped by periods of daring as well as traumatic history resulting in a mixed legacy. Its civil society institutions, including voluntary social organizations that are expected to operate independently of the state or the marketplace, are weak, and the country’s military has succeeded in placating socio-cultural discontent as a result of decades of drafting and inculcating young men. Large segments of society remain on the political fringes and are disenfranchised in terms of opportunities to shape their own country. It is a combination of these factors that contributed to the configuration of Turkey’s military democracy. Surprisingly, the conduct of Turkey’s military has not been criticized by European or U.S. officials as directly or to the extent that analysts might have expected in the post Cold-War era. In part, the lack of consistent scrutiny can be explained by Turkey’s integration into Western organizations such as NATO, and the Turkish military’s disciplined avoidance of overthrowing and then reorganizing the country’s entire political system. In contrast to many Latin American militaries, Turkey’s armed forces appear to be professionalized and show constraint in their conduct toward civil society. Paraphrasing a Turkish academic and friend, Turkey’s coups don’t last very long and they are not that nasty. Some people die, but overall, society is not as deeply affected by military intervention as in Latin America. The Turkish armed forces, even with U.S. support for interventions that weakened the influence of communism, have not demonstrated a pattern of self-aggrandizing and extensive praetorian political conduct. This clearly distinguishes the Turkish military’s role from that of the armed forces in many Latin American countries. For example, the militaries of Guatemala, El Salvador, Peru, and Argentina amassed political control during periods of internal conflict only to exacerbate the levels of violence throughout these societies. Another reason for the muted criticism of Turkey’s military democracy can be traced to the George W. Bush administration’s interest in suggesting that Turkey should be considered a model democracy in the Middle East.

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The Militant Kurds

Although increasingly discredited toward the final years of the administration, this view assumed similar histories, life experiences, and economic development trajectories for Muslim countries. In contrast to the Turkish experience, many Muslim countries endured extensive periods of colonial occupation and lacked the exposure to a visionary, if controversially authoritarian, modernizer like Turkey’s Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. In addition, Turkey’s peculiar interpretation of secularism, where public officials must not display their faith openly, is not acceptable in many Muslim societies. After the founding of the Turkish Republic, Atatürk replaced Islamic law with Western civil and criminal codes to move away from what he classified as backward Ottoman practices. Turkey embraced the concept of what in Turkish is called laiklik, a word most often translated with laicism or secularism. Traditionally, the underlying meaning of secularism includes the separation of the state’s sphere of influence from that of the religious realm. Yet in the Turkish context it expressed something quite different. The religious realm was not just separated from the state but clearly subordinated to and closely monitored by the state.9 This explains why Turkey could not provide a helpful framework for reshaping Pakistan, Afghanistan, or even Saudi Arabia into a version of the Turkish military democracy.10 In itself, the idea of supporting and legitimizing the formation of a military democracy as a stepping stone toward full democracy is not a desirable goal. After all, one of the current disputes between the EU and the Turkish government relates to the country’s apparent inability or unwillingness to move beyond the façade of democracy. The former Bush administration’s fallacious concept of identifying Turkey’s military democracy as a model for the region should have been rejected. After President Obama’s speech to the Turkish Grand National Assembly in Ankara in April 2009, the country’s secular elite was delighted that the Obama administration expressed support for democratic consolidation rather than embracing Turkey as a model country for the Muslim world.

TOXIC REPERCUSSIONS This book challenges the widely asserted position in Turkey that the PKK can be defeated with a revitalized and targeted counter-terrorism campaign. It is not intended to be an anthropological nor an historical introduction to the Kurdish people or the Kurdish regions in Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and Syria. It questions the assumptions that the larger Kurdish socio-cultural, ethnic, and political demands can be resolved through a state-led economic development project and increased investments in the southeastern provinces without consulting with civil society. While multiple reasons can be cited to explain why such an approach to weakening or undermining the PKK would

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not succeed, the most obvious reason is that the Turkish state already tried a counter-insurgency campaign during the 1980s and 1990s, which failed to defeat the PKK. Even from the Turkish military’s perspective, the results have been mixed at best. The PKK’s leader has been captured and is imprisoned; large numbers of guerrilla members perished; yet so did thousands of civilians and members of the armed forces. The costs of this prolonged counterinsurgency campaign have been extremely high for Turkish society as a whole. In a purely military sense, the PKK remains undefeated as it continues to strike against the state through occasional, but deadly ambushes. While the numbers of killed members of the armed forces are much lower than the losses experienced by the PKK, the military has bungled its efforts to assert full control in the predominantly Kurdish regions. As the superior fighting force in numbers, training, and weaponry, Turkey’s military raised expectations that it would eliminate the PKK as a threat. Its inability to gain dominance during a period of nearly three decades has amounted to an embarrassing strategic failure. Occasional deadly encounters such as those during October 2008, when PKK forces surprised and killed 17 Turkish soldiers in Hakkari province, leave the impression that the PKK is a force to reckon with. Just weeks after the surprise ambushes against the Turkish soldiers, the PKK appeared to have employed light anti-aircraft weapons to shoot down a Turkish supply helicopter. Although the Turkish military insisted that the helicopter crashed due to technical problems, the PKK claimed that it succeeded in disrupting the Turkish supply route. The fact that guerrilla units easily slipped across the border with northern Iraq has been an enormous tactical and public image challenge to Turkey’s armed forces. There is also no doubt that the underlying socio-cultural and political grievances in the Kurdish regions remain unresolved. These issues, in turn, sustain an environment the PKK can capitalize on for the foreseeable future. Furthermore, economic development has been delayed rather than implemented in the southeastern provinces, often due to violence, but also because of corruption and as a consequence of rigid bureaucratic structures. The Turkish state has not provided the necessary infrastructure or support networks to enhance economic development among small and medium sized towns or the vast agricultural regions. Turkey’s top-down, authoritarian modernization efforts in the predominantly Kurdish provinces have privileged the status quo since the 1980s, and permitted uncompromising and self-interested elites, including assimilated Kurdish entrepreneurs, to become ensconced at the center of the state’s apparatus. While the country’s early modernization process established a multiparty system with regular elections, a fully democratic, participatory model for citizenship has eluded Turkey. Without a thriving civil society, Turkey will be hard pressed to identify and pursue a non-violent resolution to ethnic and religious identity challenges from minority communities. This reality frames

26

The Militant Kurds

the Kurdish question as a complex and multi-layered problem for the Turkish Republic, and requires an approach beyond predictable political parameters. And a renewed emphasis on limited socio-economic factors and anti-terror efforts in the southeastern provinces is bound to disappoint—again. By excluding important social actors such as regionally based ethnic parties, human rights organizations, and communal groups, Ankara’s policies tend to repeat the same errors while the state ignores the underlying grievances. The failure of the state to grant some legitimacy to nationalist sentiments among Kurdish communities exacerbates the problems, and perpetuates deep resentment for the blatant disregard of cultural and religious manifestations that indicate multiple layers of identities. Influential and at times controversial Turkish scholars, including political scientist Hakan Yavuz, have argued that when modern Turkey veered off a path of cultural authenticity following the establishment of the Turkish Republic, the population experienced a sense of religious disorientation and alienation from the state.11 The uncompromising enforcement of laiklik (laicism) superimposed a culturally alien relationship between representatives of the state’s bureaucracy and the peripheral rural populations. This sense of estrangement and disorientation has now been transferred to urban shanty towns, where displaced populations from the periphery resettled in significant numbers. While some religious leaders proposed that an emphasis on a shared value system could provide a viable alternative, many would disagree with such an assessment. Sociologist Nilüfer Göle argued that the Turkish state rejected a concept of an alternative, hybrid, nonWestern approach to modernization, which added another layer to the sense of exclusion and marginalization among many Turks.12 This meant that entire segments of the Turkish population felt ignored or misrepresented by the political class and the state. Many perceived themselves as disconnected from national policies, and expressed a growing fear of vulnerability in their interactions with members of the bureaucratic structures and representatives of the legal system. Both Yavuz and Göle raised important questions about the authentic identity of Turkish society. Similarly, political theorist Charles Taylor proposed to reflect more carefully about “multiple modernities” rather than the illusion of a singular approach or path to modernity.13 This may be particularly important for the construction of a “post-Ottoman” understanding of identity, because of the many competing narratives that followed the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire. How would Turkish society be shaped by a search for a more genuine identity? What would Turkish society look like in a future that permitted multiple modernities? And what would change about the Turkish state’s relationship with the Kurdish minority population in the coming decade? This core struggle over identity and its appropriate cultural space explains, at least in part, the formation of radical political and even militant organizations in Turkey.

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The PKK, in the absence of viable political alternatives, manages to fill a socio-political void as long as Kurdish populations lack authentic agency and representation. Adding to this dynamic, the Turkish state’s disinterest in excavating the past has hindered a process of re-integration of peripheral communities into Turkish society. Many multi-ethnic countries, including Peru for instance, which fought a bitter insurgency orchestrated by the Maoist Shining Path, accepted the formation of a truth commission charged with investigating and publicizing detailed reports about the violence committed by military units and guerrilla organizations alike. In April 2009, Peru’s Supreme Court convicted former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori of human rights abuses related to military death squads and sentenced him to 25 years in prison. In Turkey the formation of a truth commission would lead to the public acknowledgement of widespread violence perpetrated by members of the Turkish military, its affiliated security and police units, village guard organizations, and the carnage caused by the PKK. Truthful disclosures and an openness to dialogue could serve as a stepping stone toward societal reconciliation—a goal pursued by Turkish intellectuals who recently apologized online for the Armenian genocide. Their gesture was widely recognized as a step in a new direction, although some critics challenged Turkish intellectuals to use the word genocide instead of hiding behind the code term “great disaster” in their public apology. It should be noted that using the word genocide in this context continues to be a punishable criminal offense in Turkey, and could lead to career-ending arrests for many scholars, academics, politicians, and public intellectuals. The powerful influences of civic groups during the process of excavating the past should not be underestimated in Turkish society. By demanding more transparency and challenging conventional explanations, citizens assert the right to shape an authentic democratic space in Turkey. Increasing numbers of public intellectuals, scholars, musicians, artists, and average citizens are deciding to question and challenge the status quo. This is a development most visible in urban environments like in Ankara and Istanbul; smaller towns and rural areas often shy away from asserting specific individual socio-political demands. Their traditional reluctance to question and demand change is captured by a number of common Turkish sayings including kendine democrat which translates literally as “a person is a democrat for him or herself only.” In many ways this proverb indicates the traditionally limited civic consciousness and restricted political engagement that has guided the public conduct of a significant portion of Turkish society since the 1980 military coup.14 In principle the saying implies that the individual is looking out for personal interests and personal rights but generally fails to care about the implementation of these same rights for other members of society. A Turkish colleague who shared the saying suggested that as a Turk “you are a democrat

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The Militant Kurds

as long as your own needs and interests are served.”15 But at the same time, he proposed another proverb that demonstrated society’s awareness of its own shortcomings. Demokrasi herkese lazım, which translates to a warning that “democracy is needed for everyone,” and serves as a reminder—or perhaps even an admonition—for Turks that “one day when a person needs the guarantee for a specific right, it may not be available because no one cared to ensure the same rights for everyone.”16 Such proverbs reflect an element of political culture in Turkey and thereby raise a central question, namely how Turkey and the international community can support and strengthen a sense of civic consciousness among members of the Turkish public. Turkey’s application to the EU and the process of Turkey’s inclusion into supranational political and judicial structures promote a sense of partnership and vigilance among civil society organizations. With financial support from the EU, civil society groups in Turkey can pursue specific educational campaigns, monitor progress, and report on plans that are successfully implemented. But they also identify obvious shortfalls within civil society activities. To name one example among hundreds of such projects may help to illustrate this particular idea: The London-based Minority Rights Group International has collaborated with the Diyarbakir Bar Association to improve human rights conditions for minority communities in Turkey. 17 Through their cooperation, outreach activities take place, data is collected, and individuals learn about new resources and opportunities to assert their own voices. Such efforts help to establish a network of citizens who are self-confident because they are educated about their rights as individuals. Active political participation is one element in a larger process that is expected to empower civil society in Turkey by strengthening and consolidating democratic structures, and by creating a more vibrant socio-cultural and political environment. An assertive civil society can withdraw support from militant groups, forcing them to transition toward political participation by making the use of violence socially unacceptable. Both the Irish Republican Army (IRA) in Northern Ireland and Basque separatists (ETA) in Spain faced growing public pressure to pursue political alternatives in the late 1990s. Dissident splinter groups within both radical organizations continued to look for ways to undermine peace agreements using violence, hoping to weaken popular support for de-escalation. But neither the IRA nor ETA succeeded in derailing negotiated arrangements through acts of provocation. Civil society in both Northern Ireland and the Basque region looked for alternative models to end the fighting by transitioning toward an armed peace. While it is often problematic to compare one country’s ethno-national movement with another, it is quite obvious that the PKK is neither unique in its goals and capabilities, nor better prepared than other militant ethno-nationalist organizations to deal with massive public pressure to abandon its militant approach.

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Without support structures from within Kurdish communities the PKK could not effectively operate in the Kandil Mountains of northern Iraq and would not be able to hide in the rugged terrain of Turkey’s southeastern provinces. Nor could they go underground in urban shanty towns. As an organization it has to rely on a web of interconnected networks that provide the leadership with logistical information, supply financial support for weapons and equipment purchases, and identify trusted followers to set up safe houses. The organization needs technical expertise to create effective propaganda campaigns and, more than anything, the PKK requires a constant supply of fresh recruits willing to fight and die for the larger cause. Without winning the hearts and minds of a segment of the population and gaining some degree of public admiration the PKK’s guerrilla units would have vanished over time with the exception of a few extremely violent splinter groups, as in the case of Northern Ireland. Intimidation and fear are not enough to maintain the extensive networks the PKK established in northern Iraq, Turkey, and Western Europe. The question that arises, of course, is why a militant organization such as the PKK continues to thrive in Turkey when the government has worked hard to defeat it for decades. To answer this question, it is necessary to examine the influence the PKK has had on shaping national and international debates over policies that impact the Kurdish minority. A somber assessment of the PKK should caution Turkey’s government that the organization is exceptionally difficult to contain because of its multiple structures inside Turkey and in several other countries. In addition, the PKK enjoys a significant level of acceptance among radicalized segments of the population, although this is disputed by the Turkish military and among Turkish policy analysts.18 Turkish officials frequently argue that the PKK achieved its dominance mainly through cruelty and intimidation in the southeastern provinces.19 While there is truth in that assertion, it is also accurate to say that the PKK has become a symbol for unrelenting Kurdish resistance against state repression. It may be reasonable to propose that the PKK is only a minority within the Kurdish population, perhaps some 20 percent, but a more revealing inquiry would be to identify what percentage of the intellectual Kurdish leadership, including Kurdish activists and political leaders, support the political objectives of the PKK. Most often it is the intellectual class that sets the political agenda for minority communities both in Turkey as in Europe. While intellectuals articulate abstract principles, the members of the rank and file interpret the messages in more concrete ways by relating ideas to their everyday struggles. In the minds of many Kurdish activists, PKK guerrilla members sacrificed themselves for the notion of establishing an independent Kurdish homeland. To entirely abandon this cause could be interpreted by the general Kurdish population as “giving up hope of ever achieving ethnic recognition for Kurds in Turkey.”20 If not the PKK itself, other organizations

30

The Militant Kurds

with ties to the PKK such as the Democratic Society Party (DTP), or a reconstituted version of it, are sure to emerge as a representative voice of Kurdish communities in Turkey. Without indirect recognition by Turkey that the PKK is an organization that is authorized, if not legitimized, by a segment of the Kurdish population, it will be nearly impossible to negotiate a resolution to the Kurdish question in the coming years. The Turkish government has few satisfying options available. It can continue or intensify a war of attrition, as Colombia has done against the FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia), leading to the weakening of democratic structures through the use of paramilitary forces and the conversion of guerrilla forces into transnational criminal syndicates. Or, the Turkish government can consent to a negotiated plan which includes an arrangement with the political wing of the PKK. The first option would be a devastating choice, creating broader socio-political problems in the future. The second option lacks a satisfactory outcome for many nationalist Turks and members of the military, namely the routing of the PKK. An accommodation with the PKK would inevitably provoke intense bitterness in Turkey resulting in division and discord, and would require enormous political skill and moral courage to overcome. However, a political plan also offers potential rewards through the formation of an authentic Turkish civil society that has a stake in shaping the future for all citizens—not just those in positions of dominance or sub-groups compelled to organize for the benefit of a local or limited communal cause.

A LITMUS TEST Policy disagreements involving the Kurdish minority and the PKK have often marred governmental relations between the Turkish Republic, member states of the EU, and the U.S. government. Typically, problems arise related to fundamental human rights concerns, but another area of contention are Turkish demands for PKK members to be detained in Europe for terrorism related offenses or involvement in organized crime. The Turkish government tends to follow up with extradition requests. In 2006, several high profile PKK members including Riza Altun, the former head of Europe’s PKK operations, and Nedim Seven, the PKK’s European treasurer, faced extradition from France to Turkey. A few months later, however, instead of being extradited to Turkey, both men were released by the judiciary. European officials explained that the courts lacked the proper evidence to hold them for involvement in organized crime activities. Altun promptly disappeared toward Iraq via Vienna, Austria, and may have been killed according to a report issued by Jane’s Intelligence Review.21 Seven was re-arrested in Rome months later for traveling with falsified documents but managed to disappear in Armenia. Dutch, Belgian, and

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French authorities had denied prior Turkish extradition requests for Seven, generating outrage among Turkish officials. On occasion, Kurdish radicals have been extradited to Turkey, but European security agencies rarely publicize such decisions—a policy intended to reduce the potential for violent protest responses among Kurdish diaspora groups throughout the EU. At times, Turkey’s domestic policy debates are shaped by disagreements with EU member states over specific cultural demands expressed by the Kurdish minority. A key issue relates to policies that restrict Kurdish language broadcasting, Kurdish language publications, and Kurdish language education. Banned in Turkey, many of the same media outlets have been sanctioned, tolerated, or at minimum ignored by security agencies in Europe. In fact, disagreements have emerged repeatedly over Turkish demands for Kurdish radio and TV stations to be shut down across Europe. Turkey insists that the PKK controls and uses numerous TV and radio stations, Internet sites, and newspapers to spread anti-Turkish propaganda. Turkish officials complain about hostile rhetoric, footage that glorifies PKK guerrilla operations, and incitement of Kurdish nationalism among the diaspora communities. Among the most controversial organizations listed by the Turkish government are Firat News Agency in the Netherlands, ROJ-Group and Denge Mezopotamya radio in Belgium, Roj TV and MMC TV in Denmark, Newroz TV in Norway, and Yeni Özgür Politika newspaper in Germany. Extensive efforts by Turkish officials to have Kurdish language TV and radio stations closed down contributed to a growing level of distrust between European officials and the Turkish government. In addition, disagreements over media rights have undermined Turkey’s aspirations to become a full EU member since 2005. Within the European context, freedom of speech issues related to the Kurdish minority are perceived as a test case for Turkey’s ability to fully democratize. The country’s willingness to recognize the Kurdish minority and implement specific socio-cultural demands is considered an important human rights concern. Unofficially, the protection of minority rights is a litmus test for Turkey’s preparedness to join the EU. The Turkish government’s attempts to control Kurdish language broadcasting convinced many Europeans that Turkey had neither achieved a proper level of press freedom nor managed to guarantee socio-cultural and political rights for minorities. Ankara’s decision in early 2009 to introduce the Kurdish language channel TRT6 in Turkey was followed very closely in human rights circles to assess whether this policy shift signaled that ethnic minority rights would be recognized in the near future. In turn, Turkey has interpreted Europe’s emphasis on the implementation of minority rights as naïve within the context of the country’s political reality. Turkey has argued that the country’s military is engaged in a war against PKK guerrillas, and that Turkish society is frequently victimized by vicious urban bombing campaigns. Turkish nationalists have taken

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The Militant Kurds

Europe’s criticism as a sign of disregard for the country’s intensive struggle to achieve clearly defined national security goals. Occasionally, Turkish officials suggest that Kurdish radicals find support in Europe because antiTurkish parties or organizations in Europe plan to permanently exclude Turkey from joining the EU. In particular Germany’s Chancellor Angela Merkel and French President Nicolas Sarkozy have expressed reservations about Turkish membership in the EU based on the notion of cultural differences. Both prefer that Turkey stay within the parameters of a privileged partnership arrangement. German political scientist Claus Leggewie characterized this privileged partnership alternative as “Plan B,” but challenged the idea by questioning whether this approach would eliminate the EU’s ability to enhance democratization efforts in Turkey, including the implementation of human rights principles.22 In part, the EU’s reluctance to embrace Turkey has created an ironic twist in Turkey’s political landscape. Traditionally pro-European secular parties and secular social forces such as the military have become suspicious of Europe’s intentions and expressed a growing level of hostility, while the religiously based Justice and Development Party (AKP) is seeking an arrangement with the EU. By articulating a pro-EU position, the AKP hopes to protect itself from virulent secular-nationalists who perceive members of the AKP as clandestine fundamentalists. In this new Turkish reality, a reluctant collection of EU members find that the ground has shifted. As a supranational structure, the EU no longer holds the same imposing sway over Turkey, and therefore cannot prescribe what it considers an appropriate level of democratization in Turkey. The costs of this ideological shift have yet to be determined both in Turkey and in Europe. Among the most harmful potential consequences of the EU’s reduced influence in Turkey may be growing support among Kurdish militants to return to violent forms of resistance. A prime suspect is a PKK splinter group called the Kurdistan Freedom Falcons (TAK), which has been implicated in urban bombing campaigns in recent years. In European and U.S. foreign policy circles the unresolved quest for Kurdish minority rights is often referred to as the Kurdish question. But the phrase also incorporates the minority’s desire for an autonomous Kurdish region (or a federal arrangement modeled after northern Iraq). In Turkey the conflict has been called the Southeast Anatolian problem since the word Kurd was not used publicly for decades. Such euphemisms in Turkey hide some of the complex and often violent history. Yet, while the minority’s resistance to state-initiated assimilation efforts played a significant part, the Kurdish experience cannot be portrayed by focusing on territorial and security concerns alone. Kurds tend to react negatively to state penetration in the region because both Kurds and state representatives often hold differing perspectives about how to improve socio-economic conditions. The underlying challenges of the Kurdish question extend beyond the manifestations of state

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repression and waves of resistance to it. It is important to recognize repeated patterns of contact, interaction, and interpenetration between representative state forces and members of the Kurdish minority through both secular and religious influences.23 Turkey’s modernization process prior to and following World War I has been shaped by multiple approaches to addressing and rectifying cultural and ethnic concerns. The Kurdish minority’s experience and involvement with both secular and religious forces offers significant insights into how dynamics shift during periods of political confluence as well as times of forceful divergence. A recent example illustrates this point well. Prime Minister Erdoğan succeeded in attracting a significant portion of the Kurdish minority vote to the Islamic ticket. The AKP’s leadership presented the party as a modest, socially conservative, reformist alternative to Turkish nationalists who had been hostile to acknowledging separate Kurdish interests. AKP’s overarching strategy was based on identifying shared religious values in order to appeal to marginalized Kurds. It would be a mistake, however, to perceive the Kurdish minority as a homogenous group that can be co-opted by either secular parties or religious networks (such as Nakşibendi Sufi orders). Neither in Turkey nor in Europe has the Kurdish minority been a cohesive socio-political, religious, and ethnic bloc. Some Kurdish communities in Turkey as well as members of the Kurdish diaspora prefer religious solidarity to political polarization. An estimated 30–40 percent of Turkey’s Kurds support linkages to religious political parties such as the AKP, but that number is significantly lower among Kurds in Europe. Another 25 percent of Kurds champion specific parties and groups with secular ideological commitments that range from Marxist to socialist to ethno-nationalist. The Kurdish minority in Turkey and in the diaspora is far from unified, which adds another layer to the dispute over identifying who, or which groups or organizations, rightfully can lay claim to representing the Kurdish minority in its pursuit of political and socio-cultural recognition in Turkey, and beyond. What remains to be seen is if the AKP’s electoral success among Kurdish voters in Turkey is a lasting confluence or a mere temporary shift away from other alternatives, including regionally-based ethnic parties. Perhaps fearing that fewer Kurdish voters would support the AKP in local elections in March 2009, the Erdoğan government introduced the closely controlled Kurdish-language TRT6 channel on January 1, 2009. The newly established channel broadcasts 12 hours of Kurdish-language family and cultural shows, with a few news items interspersed. Domestic reactions to the channel have been mixed. Supporters of ethnic-Kurdish parties have called TRT6 a ploy to prevent electoral losses for the AKP in future elections, while Turkish nationalists claimed that spending public money on a channel that only benefits a small group should be considered a discriminatory act by Turkish society. Others, mostly liberal intellectuals, perceived the

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The Militant Kurds

introduction of TRT6 as at least a small step toward tolerance of Kurdish ethnicity. Among Kurdish audiences some enthusiasm was noticeable, evidenced by the comments posted by anonymous activist bloggers that mentioned it was now possible to watch performances by famous Kurdish musicians whose music videos, tapes, and CDs used to be illegal in Turkey. One Kurdish blogger wrote that he listened to “Şivan Perwer, Ciwan Haco and Ayşe Şan songs on the TRT6. Just a few years ago people were being arrested for playing Kurdish music.”24 Ideologically, the appearance of government sponsored, though controlled, Kurdish-language broadcasting may represent a challenge to the PKK, which originally emerged as a radical left-wing organization in the late 1970s but swiftly integrated an ethno-nationalist agenda. In its recruitment efforts, the PKK has emphasized the Turkish government’s repression of cultural rights, including the banning of Kurdish language, music and literature. Over time, TRT6 could undermine that claim and reduce the organization’s ability to attract new fighters to the PKK’s guerrilla camps in the mountains. The AKP government’s motivations for supporting statecontrolled Kurdish language broadcasting seem to be manifold. Among the most important domestic reasons for the establishment of TRT6 is the hope that it will weaken the PKK’s claim to sole representation of regional Kurdish interests. In addition, the party intended to provide an incentive to Kurdish voters to continue to support the AKP in future elections—a hope that was not fulfilled in regional elections in March 2009. On a more regional level, the AKP pursues improved relations with northern Iraq to develop strategies that will eventually weaken the PKK’s claim to encampments in Iraq. The Turkish government hopes to incentivize the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG) to expel PKK guerrilla units from its territory. By granting increasing cultural rights to the Kurdish minority in Turkey, the AKP signals a willingness to engage in neighborly relations with Iraq, and to negotiate over regional security concerns. Finally, on a global level, the AKP presents itself to both the EU and the Obama administration as a government that is taking important steps toward embracing a fuller human rights agenda. The establishment of TRT6 symbolizes a politically astute repositioning for Turkey, preparing the country for policy changes expected to be implemented under the Obama administration. Vice President Biden has publicly supported Kurdish minority rights, and according to paranoid nationalist Turkish interpretations, appears to favor Kurdish independence in northern Iraq. Turkey enjoys the new U.S. administration’s support for Turkish membership in the EU, and hopes to avoid an open disagreement with the United States over human rights policies. Turkey’s relationship with Europe faces more diverse challenges. Since PKK leader Öcalan’s arrest in 1999, European security officials have preferred to monitor PKK members in the diaspora and their connections to

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broadcasting operations. Occasionally, they have closed down pro-PKK TV and radio stations. European anti-terror resources are more generously allocated toward efforts focused on tracking members of Islamist fundamentalist organizations rather than Kurdish radicals. Since the establishment of the KRG in northern Iraq after the U.S. invasion in 2003, the PKK has identified the Iraqi-Kurdish area as a model for autonomous Kurdish self-government. Europe enthusiastically endorses the idea of improved relations between Turkey and the KRG to reduce support for the PKK in northern Iraq, since the PKK is still considered a predominantly domestic Turkish problem.

KURDISTAN FREEDOM FALCONS It is essential for all parties involved in identifying solutions to the Kurdish question to recognize that the PKK is far from a monolithic organization devoid of internal dissention, as is often suggested by Turkish sources. Over the past six years splinter groups have emerged as a serious threat to the PKK’s central command structures, potentially undermining the organization’s intentions to pursue a seat at a future negotiation table. One splinter group in particular, the TAK (Kurdistan Freedom Falcons), stands out as an odious problem for the Turkish government, and perhaps also as a serious challenge for the PKK. Available information about TAK (sometimes also called Freedom Hawks) is very limited. Its members appear to have broken with the PKK, and engage in extremely violent urban bombings. TAK has carried out brutal attacks against both Turkish civilians and foreign tourists to spread fear and to undermine the economy. In August 2006, TAK committed a series of bombings that killed 3 people and injured some 120 others in the Mediterranean resort town of Marmaris, the southern cities of Antalya and Adana, as well as in popular tourist locations such as Izmir and Istanbul. The geographic center for TAK bombings appears to be much further west toward Istanbul and south toward resort towns along the Mediterranean coast, suggesting that its members may be operating within urban shanty town environments. PKK guerrilla cadres traditionally have operated in more rural areas, and tended to emphasize political and military targets such as army outposts and barracks, or focused on village guards as representatives of the state. In addition, segments of the European branch of the PKK are more interested in fundraising and public relations activities and less concerned with the organization’s guerrilla encampments or escalating the level of violence. While some groupings within the PKK seek out opportunities to establish connections to civil society organizations in the diaspora, less well known factions such as TAK appear to support a strategy of escalation. Such signals indicate that newly formed urban cells may threaten Turkish society with violent campaigns in the coming years.

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Ideological perspectives within the PKK vary, and to claim that the PKK represents a unified, singular position vis-à-vis the Turkish government and EU member states lacks validity. The PKK’s militant and political goals have shifted depending on their location and the socio-cultural contexts. As an organization, the PKK is ideologically flexible with a tendency toward authoritarianism; it easily crosses from guerrilla activities in Turkey to transnational political activism in Western Europe. Both Turkey and Europe must therefore apply a multi-pronged approach to counteract the PKK’s violent and autocratic tendencies, and determine if TAK is loosely linked to the PKK or operates entirely independently. It is well documented that, in the past, the PKK has carried out targeted assassinations of its own members when competing influences appeared to challenge existent leadership structures.25 So far, no clear signs have emerged that indicate a struggle between the PKK and TAK. This can be interpreted in two ways, either TAK is operating independently of PKK command structures, or the PKK uses TAK for specific missions to advance its own agenda. What is clear, however, is that TAK has damaged the PKK’s efforts to negotiate a ceasefire since 2006 by engaging in what appears to have been an unapproved series of bombing campaigns. Such events are reminiscent of Northern Ireland, when the extremely militant Real Irish Republican Army (RIRA) carried out the devastating 1998 Omagh car bombing that killed 29 people and injured several hundred civilians. RIRA tried to undermine the IRA’s participation in the Belfast/ Good Friday Agreement at that time. In another shockingly brutal attack in March 2009, RIRA militants executed two British soldiers and injured several civilians at the Massereene barracks located Northwest of Belfast. The apparent aim was to re-ignite open violence and derail the ongoing implementation of the peace process by undermining Sinn Fein’s leadership role. Based on the absolute disgust expressed by both nationalist and unionist political, civic, and religious leaders, the vast majority of the population of Northern Ireland rejected the renewed violence and perceived no social or political benefits from the murderous actions carried out by RIRA extremists. The glamour and glory once linked to joining the resistance against the British occupation has clearly faded following the initiation of the peace process in 1998. It is logical to conclude that TAK may operate in a similar way to the RIRA. TAK appears to act like a splinter group of the PKK by operating beyond its controls and by undermining attempts to pursue a negotiated settlement in Turkey. Firat News Agency, the PKK-affiliated broadcaster located in the Netherlands, criticized TAK’s bombing campaigns as counter-productive. While some observers claim that TAK attacks represent mere diversionary tactics, it is equally possible that TAK is emerging as a force that aims to push the PKK into an increasingly confrontational position vis-à-vis the military. Among its goals may be to undermine the formation of

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an independently operating ethnic Kurdish party that would emulate the path of Sinn Fein in Northern Ireland. Neither the Turkish military nor the PKK have managed to identify an acceptable approach to re-framing the deeply ingrained parameters of the conflict. The military perceives itself as the guardian against ethnic separatism, while the PKK claims to represent the interests of the entire Kurdish minority. Only an authentic Turkish civil society can pursue a new path to resolve the conflict. Such a path would have to include a negotiated arrangement with the PKK, and the official recognition of Kurdish minority rights. And, without a doubt, Turkey’s armed forces would have to accept a subservient role to the country’s civilian leadership.

2 R

Denigration of Turkishness

GAG ORDERS Just outside the main gate of the prestigious 2008 Frankfurt Book Fair a small group of Kurdish protesters held up signs and banners displaying the names of recently arrested and imprisoned journalists and writers in Turkey. Chanting slogans, the protesters hoped to focus German media attention on Turkey’s restrictions to cultural and political expressions and on the country’s limits to freedom of the press. Editors, journalists, publishers, and authors regularly ended up in Turkish jails for having “provoked hostilities among the people,” which is an offense under article 216 of the Turkish penal code. Even more frequently, journalists and writers faced prosecution for “the denigration of Turkishness” under article 301 of the Turkish penal code. For years, individual Turkish writers, editors, and their publishing houses have been assessed staggering fines for offenses committed in violation of restrictive press regulations. In addition, they often encountered legal complications once state or municipal authorities revoked publishing licenses and curtailed the dissemination of printed materials. As a result of the government’s legal strategies, Turkey succeeded in reducing the number of reports appearing in domestic media outlets that criticized security measures, the military, and protest events in the predominantly Kurdish southeastern provinces. But despite coordinated efforts to quell contentious coverage, Turkey has failed to escape pointed commentaries in the European press regarding its limitations on the freedom of speech and press. At the opening events of the annual Frankfurt Book Fair, Germany’s Foreign

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Minister Frank-Walter Steinmeier expressed apprehension about a lack of democratic spirit and openness in Turkey by stating that the country was “on a path to a pluralist and democratic society, but still required a change in mentality regarding the issue of freedom of speech.”1 Hoping for further critical commentary by German officials on the limited political and cultural rights granted to the Kurdish minority in Turkey, the group of protesters outside the book fair pursued publicity-generating activities. Politically motivated groups often describe activities attempting to attract public attention for their cause as “community consciousness raising” and “community mobilization efforts.” Through interviews with local papers and radio stations, the protesters pointed out to the German public that Turkish government officials curtailed the publication and distribution of Kurdish language materials, including recordings of music and poetry, and that the use of the Kurdish language on TV and radio was limited and censored by government officials. As the noisy protesters approached the main entry gate of the fair to call attention to a pattern of discriminatory treatment of Kurdish writers and artists in Turkey, the German police arrived to monitor the unfolding events. The organizing committee of the Frankfurt Book Fair had selected Turkey as their 2008 country of honor, featuring the nation’s literary and cultural traditions during week-long festivities. Turkey’s President Abdullah Gül and the country’s most famous writer, Nobel Prize winning novelist Orhan Pamuk, offered inaugural remarks at the event that highlighted the country’s literary accomplishments. Pamuk, an international literary celebrity, but in the past also a victim of prosecution in Turkey for “public denigration of Turkishness,” expressed direct criticism of Turkey’s restrictions on its writers. In particular, he mentioned a ban on YouTube and other Web sites that was enforced at the time. In contrast to Pamuk’s critical remarks, the chairman of the Turkish Organizing Committee of the fair Ümit Yaşar Gözüm proudly announced that authors from a range of ethnic communities in Turkey, including Greeks, Kurds, Armenians, and Jews, had been selected to participate in the events.2 Disagreeing with the official assertion of multicultural representation among Turkey’s featured authors, Kurdish and Turkish left-leaning diaspora organizations in Europe expressed profound disappointment that Turkey had been selected as the featured country by the book fair organizers. From the diaspora perspective, celebrating the literary traditions of a country that imprisoned its writers, journalists, and publishers along with members of civil society organizations for “separatist activities” or “insulting the Turkish Republic” appeared hypocritical and deceitful. Disapproving diaspora organizations decided to offer an alternative narrative to weaken and undermine the multicultural public image the Turkish government hoped to create. Using parallel public relations activities, the protesters attempted to raise the level of consciousness about the repression of Kurdish cultural rights

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among international visitors of the book fair. To the disappointment of the activists, long-established European newspapers and broadcasters failed to cover the events of the Kurdish publicity campaign. However, numerous Internet sites managed by Kurdish, Armenian, and Assyrian diaspora groups in Europe offered lengthy articles and opinion pieces related to the protests at the fair and the restrictions to the freedom of the press in Turkey. Their Web sites featured individual writers such as author Temel Demirer, known for his statement that Armenian-Turkish editor Hrant Dink was killed for having recognized the genocide, and journalist Nedim Şener who faced imprisonment for disseminating “terrorist propaganda” after he published the book The Dink Murder and Intelligence Lies. Over the past several years non-governmental organizations and policy institutes in the United States, Europe, and Turkey have charged the Turkish government with increasing restrictions to the freedom of the press. An assessment published by Paris-based Reporters sans Frontières (Reporters without Borders) stated: “2007 began very badly with the murder of Turkish-Armenian magazine editor Hrant Dink.”3 A politically motivated Turkish teenager was arrested for the killing, and in a police interview the young man justified his violent act by arguing that Dink had insulted Turks. Before Dink’s assassination, the Turkish government had prosecuted the editor twice under article 301 for using the word genocide to describe the late Ottoman massacres of Armenians. Identifying these massacres as organized killings of Armenians by using the term genocide is illegal in Turkey, yet Dink insisted on naming it genocide in interviews with international media. He argued that Turkish accounts should integrate the term genocide to reflect honestly the magnitude of the acts and the state’s role in them. Addressing the highly sensitive issue of the Armenian genocide and the extermination policies directed at the Greek minority, the Dersim Alevi Kurdish population, and the Assyrian minority during the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire often resulted in criminal prosecution in Turkey.4 In 2005, Pamuk ran afoul the same article of the penal code as Turkish-Armenian editor Dink, when Pamuk insisted in an interview with a Swiss newspaper that minority population groups had been targeted for killings during the late Ottoman period. Critics of the Turkish government accused policy makers, parliamentarians, and legal teams of sending a strong signal to nationalist audiences that any overt statement about the Armenian genocide would be dealt with swiftly and harshly. The government’s patterns of vigorous enforcement of articles 216 and 301 clearly targeted opinion leaders and intellectuals like Pamuk and Dink, identifying them as offenders of Turkish sensibilities. Dink’s lawyer, well-known Turkish-Armenian human rights activist Fethiye Çetin, accused the Turkish government of indirectly endorsing acts of violence against Dink and others similarly categorized as outspoken opponents of nationalist Turkish ideology. Çetin asserted in an interview with German TV Deutsche Welle that the Turkish government should be held responsible

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for the murder of the Armenian editor. She stated: “in such an atmosphere of aggressive nationalism and almost war hysteria, the minorities in Turkey feel that their right to live peacefully is under massive threat.”5 The persecution of Armenian writers and political activists was not unique to the Armenian minority. Kurdish authors, editors, and activists also faced nationalist backlash, including prison sentences for writing about themes classified under the rubric of “hostile and separatist activities.” Writing in the Kurdish language often led to legal problems in Turkey, as did the use of forbidden terms or politically charged code words such as referring to southeastern Anatolia as “Northern Kurdistan.” In 2007, the non-governmental organization (NGO) Reporters without Borders ranked Turkey’s press freedom index at 101 out of 169, while Turkey’s press freedom in 2006 had been listed slightly higher at number 98. To put this press freedom ranking into context, Canada was listed at 18, the United Kingdom at 24, and the United States at 48.6 Turkey’s ranking indicated that the country systematically constrained writers and journalists, but that it did not aim to entirely control the media. During the past decade, Turkey had not repressed the freedom of the press to a level that would justify classifying the country as a fully closed or undemocratic society. Likewise, Freedom House, an NGO that engages in advocacy and research on democratization efforts, political freedom, and human rights, categorized Turkey as a country that is partly free. Turkey’s Supreme Council of Radio and Television (RTUK), according to Freedom House, has sanctioned broadcasters for not complying with specific guidelines and governmental parameters. Such sanctions tend to encourage a climate of self-censorship on topics such as the Kurdish question, the military’s conduct in the southeastern provinces, and the role of political Islam. A 2007 Freedom House report evaluated Turkey’s level of press freedom, praising the government’s attempts to meet European Union (EU) membership requirements. According to the report, these efforts “have resulted in the passing of positive reforms, including a new Press Law in 2004, [but] the greater national debate over Turkey’s accession to the EU has fueled a nationalist movement that is driving a legalistic crackdown on free expression by journalists and writers.”7 The detailed report also highlighted discrepancies between legal reforms and the actual implementation of the reforms within the country. Freedom House stated that “constitutional provisions for freedom of the press and of expression exist but in practice are only partially upheld and have been increasingly undermined by the more restrictive measures of the new Turkish penal code, which came into force in June 2005.”8 Novelist Pamuk referenced this climate of increasingly rigorous enforcement of the penal code as a serious challenge to the freedom of expression during his opening speech at the 2008 Frankfurt Book Fair. He sharply rebuked the Turkish government for not having adequately remedied these democratic shortfalls.

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Similarly, Istanbul-based Bianet News, a network that monitors media freedom and independent journalism in Turkey, asserted that a growing number of journalists faced trials and prison sentences related to accusations of “inciting hostilities,” “spreading propaganda for a terrorist organization,” and “degrading the armed forces.”9 In an incident that illustrated this pattern of prosecuting journalists for pursuing unapproved or protected information, Istanbul’s 10th High Criminal Court fined a reporter and several managers of the Turkish daily Hürriyet €50,000 for having published an interview with Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) rebels some four years earlier. One consequence of such retroactive legal action has been that journalists tend to be more cautious about producing media reports that evaluate the military’s ground assaults and air raids against Kurdish rebels in Turkey and northern Iraq. Unless specifically authorized by the command structure of the armed forces, journalists often shy away from reporting about internal conflict zones and guerrilla activities. Fearful of negative personal and professional consequences, some writers regularly curtail their op-ed pieces and limit themselves to indirect criticism of governmental and military circles. Over the past several years, Turkey’s press freedom has become increasingly diluted through authoritarian legal codes and military gag orders, exposing individual writers and journalists to virulent versions of nationalist violence that often targets outspoken representatives of minorities in the country. Journalist Temel Demirer, for example, faced a trial after he was accused of violations related to article 301 of the Turkish penal code. According to his lawyer, Demirer feared for his life after the Minister of Justice publicly condemned him during the trial, which made Demirer a target of widespread ultra-nationalist hatred.10

LAW ENFORCEMENT DEBATES Kurdish protesters at the Frankfurt Book Fair pointed to gag orders and restrictions to freedom of the press by holding up signs and banners and by chanting slogans. But during the protest, several participants suddenly unfolded flags displaying the colors and symbols of the PKK, as well as images of imprisoned Kurdish guerrilla leader Abdullah Öcalan. In an instant, the protest took on an entirely new set of meanings for the general public. In Turkey, Öcalan is ranked among the most hated prisoners in the nation’s history and is often referred to as bebek katili or the baby killer. Under his orders, PKK cadres carried out assassinations of young, drafted soldiers as well as civilians and their family members who were identified as collaborators with the Turkish state. Despite his capture in 1999, Öcalan appeared to manage all major decisions from his prison cell through regular communication with his lawyers. Turkish government statements continued to assert that the PKK actively pursued the formation of a Kurdish

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homeland in the southeastern provinces of Turkey; yet changes took place in the following decade, including failed attempts by the PKK to initiate negotiations with the government.11 Turkish authorities accurately describe the PKK as an organization that uses guerrilla insurgency strategies and urban terror inside Turkey, but the organization also employs political agitation and propaganda abroad to advance its position. In addition, researchers have identified and exposed financial linkages between the PKK and transnational criminal syndicates such as drug cartels.12 In light of Turkey’s traumatic experiences with the PKK over several decades, the Turkish government has complained bitterly that neither the United States nor European governments sense any immediate or serious security threat from the PKK. Turkish officials lament the fact that repeated appeals to EU member states have failed to encourage stronger measures against the PKK’s money laundering schemes and transnational criminal activities. Turkish officials have been disappointed by what they perceive as lackluster cooperation, despite their warnings that harboring criminal networks will have negative consequences for Europe in the long-run. Some Turkish representatives insinuated that ulterior or even sinister motives played a role. For instance, Prime Minister Erdoğan made such accusations at a high profile security conference held in Germany in 2008, saying that some countries failed to support Turkey’s efforts to eradicate the PKK, lacked solidarity evidenced by their insensitivity, and “either intentionally or unintentionally” permitted the PKK to flourish.13 In Turkey, European officials often face suspicions that they sympathize with the PKK to undermine or weaken Turkey’s application for EU membership. Sometimes, officials from Turkey suggest that diaspora organizations have been permitted to disseminate propaganda hostile to Turkish interests for the same reason. Similarly, Turkish officials dislike the close cooperation between the U.S. military and the Kurdish Regional Government in Iraq (KRG), and some imply that this is evidence that the United States ignores the PKK’s presence in northern Iraq. Not surprisingly, European representatives and U.S. government officials reject such accusations as unsubstantiated conspiracy theories. Outside the Frankfurt Book Fair, German police monitored the PKK sympathizers and contained their protest activities to a designated area. Meanwhile, inside the exhibition halls, several Turkish ultra-nationalists carried out a counter-publicity stunt. They pushed over the informational table that displayed books and pamphlets about Kurdish populations, culture, music, and literature. While cameras rolled, indicating that the event may have been staged, ultra-nationalists started to rip down maps showing the territory of Kurdistan and engaged in a scuffle with the exhibitors before security arrived. Security officials were aware that the Turkish TV station Ulusal had called on Turkish nationalists in Germany to stop “Kurdish separatists” from displaying information at the fair, but personnel

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assigned to the exhibition halls appeared unprepared. It should have come as no surprise that a melee would erupt. One table, although sponsored by Iraqi-Kurdish diaspora groups and the KRG in northern Iraq, displayed maps that highlighted a region that included segments of Turkish territory, at least according to Turkish nationalists. Taking offense at the use of the name Kurdistan, the Turkish nationalists intended to remove anything that indicated support for Kurdish independence. Following the events, the Turkish ambassador to Germany requested that all controversial maps be removed from public view. Turkish nationalist radio and TV stations extensively discussed what they labeled as “defensive action that restored Turkish national pride,” but mainstream media in Germany mostly ignored the protest event. Since Turkish and Kurdish nationalists challenged, insulted, and attacked each other regularly at public events, a sense of fatigue had spread in the European public consciousness. Media coverage of Kurdish protests has been limited in Europe. While this pleases the Turkish government, Ankara continues to insist that European public officials fail to aggressively pursue PKK activists. Turkey accurately infers that European countries perceive little benefit from directly challenging militant Kurds in Europe by prosecuting them under anti-terror legislation. According to Turkish analysts, European law enforcement agencies decline to track PKK operatives among the sizeable Kurdish immigrant communities in Germany, the Netherlands, France, and Belgium. 14 The Turkish government expects the militant Kurdish organization to be classified as a terrorist organization involved in politically motivated violence, but European security agencies favor an approach that deals with the PKK as a transnational criminal network. When radical Kurds engage in violent crimes in Europe, such as firebomb attacks, they face arrest for weapons violations or extortion schemes, and state and local law enforcement agencies prosecute them to the full extent of the law. Turkey’s Interior Ministry’s Department for Anti-Smuggling and Organized Crime (KOM) has long provided evidence of the PKK’s involvement with extortion schemes and drug trafficking, in particular with the heroin trade. But it also suspects the PKK of gunrunning and human smuggling along the Turkish-Iraqi and Turkish-Iranian borders.15 Europol, the European Union’s criminal intelligence unit, collaborates with Turkish anti-crime units to identify and weaken ties between PKK operatives, Turkish smuggling rings, and transnational criminal syndicates based in Iraq, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. It is well known that most of the heroin that arrives in Europe originates from the larger southwest Asian region, predominantly from Afghanistan and Pakistan. The heroin is transported via Iran, Iraq, and Turkey into Europe through criminal organizations that have established distribution networks in every country along this route. The ongoing war in Afghanistan and its spillover effect to the Federally Administered Tribal Areas or FATA region of Pakistan has created ideal conditions for drug smuggling operations,

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making it nearly impossible to curtail the flow of heroin unless enforcement becomes more robust in the countries of origin and transit. This is possible only if a higher degree of societal stability can be achieved in all of the countries along the smuggling route. While a mere suggestion of a PKK connection can cause alarm in Turkey and raises demands for police protection among Turkish diaspora communities in Europe, it is not a familiar acronym in the United States. General references to the Kurdish population tend to conjure up predominantly neutral to positive reactions or connotations among the U.S. public. Many Americans know about the victimization of Kurds by Saddam Hussein and strong Kurdish support for U.S. troops in northern Iraq. During the initial five years of the current war in Iraq, Washington steered clear of entanglement with PKK related issues despite extensive Turkish protests filed at the highest levels. Relying on Iraqi-Kurdish logistical support structures to counter Sunni-Arab violence in other regions of Iraq, the U.S. military benefited from avoiding or delaying decisions that could have antagonized or alienated Kurdish groups. In addition, Iraqi-Kurds used the PKK’s presence in its territory as leverage against Turkey. Knowing that it was not in the security interest of the United States to weaken Kurdish regional assistance, Iraqi-Kurdish political elites avoided addressing PKK encampments in northern Iraq. It appeared increasingly obvious that U.S. forces were discreetly ignoring PKK activities along the Iraqi-Turkish border, which enabled Kurdish intelligence gathering. To the dismay of Ankara, the PKK used the fairly open access to the northern Iraqi-Kurdish territory to expand its guerrilla attacks on Turkish installations and troops inside Turkey. Turkish nationalists and members of the military perceived this lack of United States-Turkish cooperation as retribution for an earlier Turkish parliamentary refusal to permit U.S. forces to preposition themselves on Turkish territory for a northern ground assault on Saddam Hussein’s forces.16 By 2008, however, the Bush administration decided to take initial action against the PKK and all of its identified organizations in the region. The United States Department of State declared that the Kurdistan Freedom Falcons (TAK) was a PKK affiliated terrorist group, and affirmed that they were indeed fully committed to fighting terrorism in the region. Following this announcement, the PKK was labeled a criminal network under the Foreign Narcotics Kingpin Designation Act.17 This designation indicated that U.S. officials would actively deny the PKK access to U.S. financial markets by classifying it as a crime for U.S. companies (including the military and its contractors) or any individuals holding U.S. citizenship to engage in a business relationship with members of the PKK or its affiliated groups. From an international perspective, the existence of the PKK represented a predominantly Turkish problem that required a solution from among domestic stakeholders. Although it was obvious that full cooperation from regional actors would be necessary to resolve the conflict, an innovative

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approach to dealing with the larger Kurdish question needed to be developed from within the country. Consecutive Turkish governments had repressed Kurdish nationalist movements and pursued harsh assimilation policies to reduce Kurdish resistance to state control. Repeatedly failing to accomplish this aim, Turkish officials initiated several counter-insurgency campaigns, which further inflamed segments of the population. Unfortunately, the state’s emphasis on repression rather than seeking ways to implement alternative political approaches to resolving the crisis only enhanced conditions for PKK operatives. So far, the PKK’s dreadful campaigns have not targeted U.S. interests or personnel, although Europeans are quite familiar with the potential for intense levels of inter- and intra-community violence related to Turkish and Kurdish immigrants. Often fanned by radicals among the diaspora communities, acts of terror such as targeted assassinations and arsonrelated bombings of Turkish-owned businesses have had a direct impact on Turkish citizens, yet rarely affected German, Dutch, or Belgian civilians in Europe. Inside Turkey, however, European tourists have been killed in PKK related attacks, suffered injuries as bystanders in bombings, and been victimized by kidnapping schemes for ransom or publicity purposes. Thus far, the PKK has cautiously avoided any direct attacks on U.S. citizens or installations in the region, perhaps hoping that the resilient relationship between Iraqi-Kurds and the U.S. military will eventually translate into political opportunities or leverage for Kurds inside Turkey.

POLITICAL AND MILITARY OPTIONS What appears to be increasingly obvious is that the Turkish military establishment will be hard pressed to win a counter-insurgency war against a segment of its own population. Not only will it be nearly impossible to expel PKK guerrilla units from the rugged terrain without comprehensive assistance provided by other Kurdish power brokers including the KRG in Iraq, it also would require a fully coordinated effort between Iran and the United States. To marginalize the PKK and its affiliated organizations in the region, transnational coordination is essential, but that appears to be an unlikely scenario at the moment. For now Turkish bombing raids on PKK encampments in northern Iraq have limited the guerrillas’ mobility and the effectiveness of its cross-border tactics, yet not its ability to carry out occasional high-profile attacks. Especially during the spring, summer, and fall months, the harsh mountainous conditions in the region facilitate surprise ambushes that target Turkish troops and military outposts. One such major assault against the Turkish state took place on October 4, 2008, when a PKK unit ambushed a group of unsuspecting and unprepared Turkish soldiers near the town of Şemdinli in Hakkari province, which borders both Iraq and Iran. Fifteen Turkish soldiers died in the devastating

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attack, which intensified pressure on the Turkish government to take immediate retributive action against the guerrilla force. The Şemdinli attack was followed by another demoralizing PKK ambush on Turkish soldiers serving with the 21st Border Gendarmerie Tactical Brigade on October 21, 2008. Twelve additional soldiers died, while sixteen others suffered serious injuries. The Turkish armed forces were compelled to respond immediately by initiating an extensive bombing campaign on suspected PKK encampments in northern Iraq. The cruelty of the situation for civilians living in Hakkari province came to light when the following day a wedding party accidentally drove their vans over what appeared to have been PKK landmines, causing additional injuries and deaths. Despite the horrific levels of violence, the guerrillas’ popularity among ethno-nationalist segments of Kurdish communities appears to be stable. Since no competing Kurdish organizations have been empowered by the Turkish state to provide an alternative perspective, the PKK fills a political void. Scholars have long argued that a lack of agency among Kurdish communities enhances the position of the PKK in the region. Turkish political scientists Fuat Keyman and Ziya Öniş suggested that “the more the Kurdish demands were not articulated by the existing parties, and did not find parliamentary expression, the more the Kurdish radical ethnonationalism found a space for initiating its ethnically essentialist claims for recognition, as well as for attempting to legitimize its violence and terrorism.”18 A political competitor to the PKK potentially could weaken the organization, as long as it was perceived to be a legitimate representative of Kurdish interests in the eyes of the Kurdish population in Turkey. Half-heartedly, the Islamic Justice and Development Party (AKP) attempted to provide such an alternative. The problem that remained, however, was that this party failed to fully address and incorporate ethnocultural concerns as articulated by radicalized Kurdish and Muslim minority communities. The AKP thereby excluded a significant number of Sunni Kurds as well as minority Alevis. Without an empowered political competitor in Turkey, or the inclusion of Kurdish demands in the political platforms of many parties, the PKK continued to benefit from an entrenched communications network that included supportive informants, trading partners, recruiters, and spotters. Members of these networks alerted PKK fighters via satellite phones when Turkish military planes took off from air bases and when large troop movements indicated a development along the border. Despite actionable, real-time intelligence information provided by the U.S. military to the Turkish high command, the PKK’s transnational networks have been able to protect the organization from eradication, though its cadres have suffered significant casualties. 19 The Turkish military repeatedly requested drone technology, or at minimum unlimited access to information collected through unmanned predator drones, but these requests largely have been denied by U.S. officials.

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U.S. military commanders have been reluctant to become more deeply involved in a direct struggle against the PKK. With regularity, U.S. drones track PKK activities based on satellite images that identify movements among guerrilla encampments in northern Iraq. These images are passed on to Turkish counterparts by authorized U.S. personnel, especially when guerrilla units appear to be preparing an assault. The Şemdinli attack, for example, involved an estimated 150 PKK guerrilla members, but despite U.S. satellite imagery that alerted the Turkish command structure ahead of time, PKK units managed to sneak across the border to carry out its deadly ambush. It seemed that the information provided by U.S. forces was not evaluated by Turkish counterparts in a timely fashion, rendering it useless. Though struggling to defeat the PKK militarily, the Turkish state is still capable of undermining the organization on a socio-political level. To weaken the influence of the guerrilla structures, Turkey must pursue a path toward open media coverage, end its gag orders on military activities along the Turkish-Iraqi border, and engage in forthright dialogue with members of Kurdish civil society organizations. In the 1990s, several opportunities arose to integrate representatives of Kurdish political parties into a broader framework for dialogue. Recently, a compelling shift in rhetoric emerged in preparation of the March 2009 elections in Turkey. At the end of February 2009, Turkish NTV news reported that a policy analysis written by a group of so-called “wise men” would be released to the public. The group’s report addressed proposed policy changes with regard to the Kurdish question. The entire analysis, euphemistically entitled “Turkey Today and Tomorrow,” had been compiled by retired ambassadors, generals, and admirals. Collectively, they suggested several fundamental policy changes to avoid a further inflammation of the Kurdish conflict. The report argued: (a) that the cultural identity of Kurds must be acknowledged, (b) that ethnic parties have a right to exist, (c) that private Kurdish TV channels need to receive permission to operate, (d) that Kurdish language classes should be offered as an elective, and Kurdish language and literature courses be made available at selected public universities, and (e) that investments focused on development issues in northern Iraq should include incentives for companies that operate in the southeastern provinces of Turkey.20 If such policy proposals were to be implemented and fully enforced by the state’s bureaucratic structures, the PKK would experience serious challenges in terms of its ability to recruit guerrilla members in the future. Ideally, Ankara would also weaken the PKK with an amnesty offer for rank and file guerrilla members to entice them into a process of “decommissioning” and re-integration into society. In addition, the Turkish government would need to initiate a negotiated settlement with the remnant guerrilla leadership and identify a political organization that could be considered a legitimate representative by the Kurdish population. Yet, Turkey’s secular establishment has shied away from fundamentally changing its policy approaches to

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the Kurdish question. The underlying reason for this ideological inflexibility relates to the fact that the Turkish state has classified the PKK as a group of virulent fanatics who must be eradicated to resolve the conflict. Supporters of the Turkish nation-state blame the PKK for pushing the country into a devastating internal war and for indiscriminately killing state representatives and civilians who refused to collaborate with the guerrilla movement. It is entirely unclear if Turkey’s military leadership and opinion leaders within the bureaucracy are willing and able to reframe the conflict and endorse a revised policy approach. Because of the enormous loss of life since the mid-1980s and the permanent displacement of hundreds of thousands if not millions of villagers, the state’s position has hardened over time. Turkey’s international reputation suffered as counter-insurgency strategies produced wide swaths of scorched earth and created a climate that permitted the use of torture dungeons. In addition to wide-spread and horrific human suffering, Turkey’s democratic infrastructure deteriorated and the country’s financial investment in the internal war drained the economy with devastating results as billions of dollars were allocated for weapons systems instead of being used for desperately needed infrastructure development projects. Psychologically the population endured tremendous strain as any involvement with Kurdish socio-cultural activism, human rights concerns, or ethnic and minority parties became characterized as synonymous with membership in the PKK and sympathy for terrorism. Clearly, Turkey’s war against the PKK has been less than successful when measured by its human toll, the waste of resources, and the country’s tarnished human rights reputation. A resolution to the conflict requires a courageous reframing of the larger Kurdish question, similar to what took place in numerous other democracies that struggled with the realities of lasting and bloody internal wars. In some ways, Turkey’s situation can be compared with Britain’s struggle against Northern Ireland’s IRA and Sinn Fein, although it is important to recognize that Turkey lost many more people to the Kurdish question than ever perished in the conflict in Northern Ireland. In the 1990s some 3,500 persons died in Northern Ireland in connection with violence perpetrated by paramilitary forces and the IRA, but during the same period Turkey lost between 25,000 and 38,000 Kurdish guerrilla members, up to 5,000 Turkish soldiers, and between 5,000 and 10,000 civilians.21 Similar to the lasting disputes over actual casualties for guerrilla members during Central America’s civil wars in the 1970s and 1980s, the numbers of killed PKK members remains unconfirmed by independent sources or organizations. The uncertainty over exact casualty figures can be explained in part by the PKK’s interest in lowering such numbers, while the Turkish government tends to inflate its own estimates or counts of PKK casualties. For obvious reasons Turkey’s internal war against the PKK has weakened the social fabric of society. Most Turkish and Kurdish families know someone among their family members or their circle of friends who has died,

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suffered an injury, or been victimized in other ways by this war. The experience with loss of life, compromised security, the destruction of property, and, of course, the exposure to mistreatment and brutality by authorities or guerrilla members has scarred many members of the population. Turkey, of course, is not in a unique situation, although the specific socio-political details of each conflict differ. Still, it is important to consider policies that have led to progress in liberal democratic societies struggling to resolve internal violence, such as Northern Ireland. With support from a wide range of domestic constituents, including political leaders, and the endorsement of the international community, the British government shifted away from an ineffective and destructive pattern of counter-terrorism. Influential opinion leaders ranging from representatives of the Catholic and Protestant churches to politicians and peace activists embraced a negotiation process that is still underway today. Even a full decade after the initial peace agreement was signed problems persist. Protestant families who had been victimized by IRA violence, for example, expressed outrage and disgust over the recommendation proposing financial payments to all families who experienced losses due to conflict-related violence. The problem some Protestant families perceived was that Catholic families with known links to IRA members had been included among the recommended payees. Just as this example from Northern Ireland demonstrates, Turkish society should be skeptical of promises that the Kurdish question could be resolved quickly or without further communal tension. A range of political leaders and opinion makers need to endorse the complex healing process, one that may take decades to fully address grievances. A “quick fix” approach could lead to further disillusionment, undermining public confidence in a negotiated settlement. The Belfast/Good Friday Agreement of 1998 provides a basic framework for resolving a complicated conflict. It addresses constitutional questions and disputes regarding democratization, human rights, decommissioning, security, and issues related to final implementation.22 Despite the pain and emotional trauma experienced by U.K. society, the Northern Ireland peace agreement is one model among many for creating a political alternative. Standard counter-terrorism measures as currently favored by elements within the Turkish government and military leadership will only guarantee the continuation of violence. As long as Turkish officials classify segments of the Kurdish population as traitors and perceive civil society activists as fifth columnists, the PKK will remain a force to be reckoned with. While Turkish planes pound the mountain ranges of northern Iraq, the PKK appears to have initiated a search for new hide-outs in Turkish towns and cities. Should the PKK transition to more urban environments and deeply ensconce cadres in shantytowns, violent splinter groups most likely will gain influence. The potential transfer of PKK units from rural to urban locations is a worrisome development. Such a shift would strengthen the PKK’s

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transnational political, economic, and criminal ties, and create renewed opportunities for extremist leadership to emerge.

ISLAMIC POLITICS When the EU named Turkey as a candidate for membership in 1999, the vast majority of Turkish society expressed excitement and enthusiasm in anticipation of a brighter national future. On a purely psychological level, EU membership status would affirm the country’s arrival in Europe—an ideal pursued by the secular Turkish establishment since the birth of the nation following the First World War. In practical terms, EU membership represents the promise of vast economic opportunities, growing personal prosperity, and individual political freedoms. Between 2002 and 2004, Turkey initiated a number of significant democratization efforts to harmonize its legal framework with that of the EU. Among the most impressive reforms the country carried out were the subordination of domestic law to international law and the strengthening of civilian controls over the military. Turkey started to liberalize its freedom of speech and association regulations, abolished the death penalty, and eased rules on Kurdish language broadcasting rights. In 2005, the EU finally agreed to initiate the long-awaited talks on accession negotiations with Turkey. Despite the growing number of positive signals and the emphasis on reforms, Ankara then began to hesitate and made less progress toward strengthening democracy and human rights. As obstacles emerged, the nation appeared to lose its overt enthusiasm for restructuring the Turkish legal framework. Among the domestic problems that impeded progress were a growing political fragmentation and ideological polarization in the country. Then scandals surfaced that pointed to widespread corruption, and high-level military leaders offered indiscreet public commentary. Another major obstacle was the lackluster approach to resolving the conflict over the divided island of Cyprus. As before, thousands of Turkish troops remained stationed in the northern part of Cyprus supporting a government that failed to achieve legitimacy anywhere but in Ankara. In addition, the secular military structure profoundly disliked the AKP’s revival of the headscarf debate, which enhanced antagonistic relations. Secular elites feared a turn toward what they perceived as the destructive emphasis on political Islam in Turkey. AKP voters, and in particular AKP affiliated women’s groups, hoped to gain the party’s support for the right to wear head covering in public settings, including in government offices, public universities, and hospitals. But Kemalist elites interpreted this demand as a dangerous challenge to women’s rights and to secular modernization efforts. The dispute over the head scarf between the Kemalist establishment and the newly emerging AKP leadership developed into a symbolic struggle over who would control and thereby shape the center of political power in Turkey.

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Repeatedly, the EU recommended that Turkey repeal article 301 of its penal code to allow for more freedom of expression, but Ankara’s enthusiasm for further reform had all but stalled on this issue. By the summer of 2005, Turkish domestic politics became ensconced in an intensifying debate over the future direction of the country. The interests of the nationalist Kemalist establishment opposed ideas held by more liberal political and academic elites, which also differed from those advanced by leaders of minority communities and their affiliated interest groups. Kemalism, named after Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder of the modern Turkish state, had dominated the thinking of nationalist power brokers. This particular grouping of secular elites included leaders of mainstream political parties from a wide ideological spectrum, the military, high level bureaucrats, judges, university administrators, academics, and media and commercial interest groups. Some members among the Kemalist nationalist elites, such as influential bureaucrats and judges, demanded a closer adherence to a path of secular modernization. Others, including the military and its affiliated security apparatus, emphasized the defeat of radical groups like the PKK as a precondition for further reforms. In contrast to Kemalist circles, the discourse among liberal academics, moderate civil society organizations, and Kurdish political activists challenged Turkish nationalist interpretations about how to advance the country’s interests. Unable to develop a united ideological challenge to the nationalist and ultra-nationalist camps, various political opposition groupings pursued separate goals to achieve a different future. Supporters of the AKP government wanted to integrate faith-based values into the political process to represent changes in public attitudes toward the role of religion in society. In this contentious environment, the Turkish government felt pressure from the influential Kemalist elites. As a party, the AKP attempted to avoid further political polarization through revisions to established principles of secularism. Increasingly cautious, the Erdoğan government used the EU accession process as a protective shield to guard against a military intervention or coup d’état. The AKP government worried about a soft coup strategy by the military establishment once it became the most popular party with its resounding victory in the general elections of 2007. The soft coup was expected to involve the strategic mobilization of aggressive social groups that forced elected officials to resign. Support for EU membership protected the government on one hand from direct military intervention, but it also invigorated the secular elites’ profound lack of trust in the Islamic government. Many secularists perceived EU officials, European academics, and human rights activists as naïve in their understanding of how religious liberalization and ethnic tolerance would affect Turkey. In fact, the AKP government appeared vulnerable to accusations that it only temporarily adjusted its political agenda to look more moderate, and that it used a cunning strategy to avoid a constitutional ban from political participation. Members of the Kemalist elites interpreted the headscarf debate as part of a threatening

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Islamic agenda that actively undermined secular principles in the country. In this atmosphere of distrust and suspicions about hidden intentions, supporters of secularism scoured the political landscape for signs that the government was trying to amass power through electoral manipulation. The most hostile segment among the secular elites expected a slow Islamization process to take place that would not be recognized as such by the public. EU member states added another layer of anxiety as religious and cultural questions dominated discussions of EU membership in Turkey. In the eyes of many Europeans, an Islamic government’s interest in EU membership raised a cultural question: Would Islam and democracy be compatible? Rather than inspire and strengthen democratization efforts in Turkey after the country’s acceptance as a candidate country in 2005, several high-profile European representatives from Germany, France, and Austria further undermined public confidence in the idea of Turkish membership in the EU. By voicing doubts about Turkey’s “cultural preparedness” and the country’s “geography,” code terms for Turkey’s proximity to Iran, Iraq, and Syria, influential members of Europe’s political elites helped to slow down Turkey’s democratization process. The European public expressed growing apprehension over Turkish accession, such as concerns related to rising unemployment rates and the need for massive EU investments into Turkey. Public officials used targeted language to suggest that Muslim values could turn out to be incompatible with Christian values and that Turkey’s proximity to hostile Arab and Persian states would become problematic for Turkey’s path toward European integration. Raising speculations that radical Islam could gain a foothold in Europe, voters began to listen to right-wing nationalist and anti-immigrant parties. Encoded language became common in political speeches in Europe, accusing Turkey of “a democratic deficit,” “cultural incompatibility,” and “a lack of common identity and shared values” with Europeans. The Flemish-Belgian secessionist and anti-immigrant party Vlaams Blok (Flemish Bloc), since 2004 known as Vlaams Belang (Flemish Interest), expressed ferocious opposition to immigration policies, rejected multiculturalism, and has fought Turkey’s application to the EU politically. In 2010 Vlaams Belang continued to warn about “the growing threat of Islamization in Belgium” and enthusiastically endorsed bans on women’s Islamic coverings such as burkas and niqabs in Belgium.23 Several high profile politicians, including former Austrian Chancellor Wolfgang Schüssel (2000–2007), Germany’s Chancellor Angela Merkel, and French President Nicolas Sarkozy, garnered domestic electoral benefits with a strategy of questioning Turkey’s preparedness and ability to follow European human rights and cultural norms. Opinion leaders across Europe declared that a Muslim country could never become truly democratic. Such underhanded remarks heated up both European and Turkish debates over how to proceed with Turkey’s accession bid after the

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rise of a Muslim party. To Turkish representatives from the AKP, as well as academics and media representatives, the hostile discourses demonstrated that the EU accession process for Turkey lacked objectivity and rationality. Europeans intensively scrutinized every policy approach and decision made in Ankara for potential failures to guard human rights provisions at a time when Turkey’s secular forces looked to identify signs of creeping Islamization within the AKP. Turkish society fully recognized that the unresolved Kurdish question, the instability and violence caused by the Iraq war, the concerns regarding regional terrorism, and the specter of Islamization in the political sphere now dominated the national political agenda. A sense of unease replaced the earlier optimism of Turkish citizens about the future of their country. Turkish society faced a difficult path toward further EU harmonization and reforms. From the perspective of members of the Turkish secular elite in the bureaucracy, the judiciary, and the military, two developments seemed particularly troubling for the future of the republic: The revival of Kurdish ethno-nationalism, and Islam’s growing presence in policy making circles. Meanwhile, other segments of Turkish society including supporters of Islamic parties, leftist groups, politicized Kurds, and members of the Alevi minority raised questions about the legitimacy and authenticity of the state’s social, political, and cultural controls. While secularists warned about tumultuous internal dissent, their opponents perceived the increasing level of public debate over reshaping the direction of the country as a sign of the growing potential for democratization. Pursuing a counter-narrative, they embraced the newly found assertiveness among the citizenry as a positive development, typical for a country experiencing profound sociopolitical changes. In fact, Turkish society was engaged in negotiations over reshaping its social contract to determine the role Islam should play in public life.24 At the same time, society needed to identify what rights may be guaranteed to ethnic minorities (including which communities ought to be classified as minorities), and what level of influence the military establishment should have in the political arena, if any at all. Domestic Turkish debates over essential interpretations of ideological issues and the EU’s pressure to encourage the restructuring of the country’s legal codes resulted in a plodding and intermittent pace of reform in Turkey. Kurdish activists who looked for open and constructive debates to advance the minority’s interests began to voice frustration and resentment. They no longer wondered when, but rather if the Kurdish community would benefit from EU accession negotiations. Kurdish activists expressed a sense of disillusionment with Europe’s tepid support for Kurdish mobilization. The EU’s uninspired endorsements of socio-cultural rights for Kurdish communities in Turkey failed to convince activists that they could rely on European support. During the fall of 2007 for example, EU Enlargement Commissioner

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Olli Rehn expressed Brussels’ full support for Turkish military action against Kurdish guerrilla units after more than a dozen Turkish soldiers had been killed in ambushes by the PKK. In an interview conducted by EurActiv, Commissioner Rehn suggested that Europe fully recognized Turkey’s need to protect its citizens from violence.25 Kurdish political activists lamented the fact that Rehn failed to comment on the treatment of the Kurdish minority in Turkey. Meanwhile, secular elites had hoped to marginalize the AKP government by discrediting its policies. Secularists displayed increasing signs of distress as it became obvious that significant segments of Turkish society supported the Islamic government. Traditionally, supporters of secularism, and in particular members of the military, perceived themselves as strong advocates and even guardians of the state’s Kemalist ideology. Kemalism is a commitment to secular and nationalist versions of republicanism, delineated by the concept of “impersonal rule.” Mustafa Kemal had embraced and advocated for the ideals of rational and scientific thinking following the establishment of the Turkish Republic in 1923. He endorsed and implemented a secular legal structure that advanced Turkey’s Westernization by breaking with the past and replacing the Ottoman’s reliance on divine rule. Other fundamental principles of Kemalism focused on nationalism and a process of statedirected industrialization. Finally, Kemalism incorporated the concepts of reformism and populism, which stood for the formation of a nation defined by a common solidarity without class conflict. These tenets of Kemalist ideology and in particular the concepts of populism, etatism, and reformism authorized a pattern of change from above. Turkey’s approach to reform paralleled ideological concepts espoused by Mexico’s National Revolutionary Party (PNR), which was established in 1929. By 1946, revolutionism in Mexico was fully manifested within the reorganized Institutional Revolutionary Party or PRI. The principle of “reform from above” privileged and enforced socio-cultural change. In Mexico as in Turkey, the ideological aim was to modernize, control, manage, and reshape social forces that were perceived as threatening or counter-productive to the state’s efforts to advance society. Probable threats included rebellious indigenous population groups and religious forces. Both the PRI’s reformist ideology in Mexico and Turkey’s Kemalism inspired authoritarian and elitedriven political decision-making. Mustafa Kemal established an advanced national bureaucracy that propelled the country forward in an attempt to modernize it. Kemalism embraced the concept of a state-driven, centralized modernization and industrialization campaign as a prerequisite for an idealized version of the Turkish nation. In Atatürk’s view, the new nation had to embrace Westernization as its cultural ideal so that Turkey could thrive and become an equal in a civilized world community. Modernity was to be understood in terms of a Western-inspired model of social and political standards without accepting

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the earlier Western imperialism, which nearly prevented the formation of the modern Turkish state. In the early 1920s nationalist Turks unified under Mustafa Kemal’s leadership and defied French, British, Greek, and Italian attempts to split up Anatolia for their own interests. Because of these traumatic experiences with imperialist land grabbing policies by Europeans, the Turkish state hoped to strengthen its unity through minimizing religious, socio-economic, and ethnic divisions. Mustafa Kemal forged a path toward a unified national identity as an essential building block, which would serve as a defensive shield against hostile states such as the Soviet Union and Greece. At the same time, he aimed to protect Turkey from sliding back into a state structure similar to Ottoman rule, which he perceived as outmoded, overly personalized, and religiously dominated. By pursuing a modernization campaign strengthened by nationalism, Mustafa Kemal had assumed that he could guard against the dangers of internal ethnic divisions and political Islamization.

EXPRESSIONS OF ISLAM Over a period of five decades of development, the Turkish state played a dominant role in the public sector by pursuing an import-substitution industrialization approach, as did many developing countries in Latin America, Asia, and Africa. The Turkish government, however, rejected the ideology of state-directed socialism as promoted by the Soviet Union and instead endorsed key principles of capitalism including protections for private property and free enterprise. But Turkey’s private sector was in its infancy, and to thrive it required enormous investments from the state during the early decades of development. It was typical for emerging nations to embrace mixed economic models, especially when governments struggled with weak capital accumulation in the underdeveloped private sector. As was the case in Mexico, the concerted modernization effort led to an overly bureaucratic, state-directed, and state-owned sector, and rapidly accelerated labor migrations of rural and minority populations to urban centers. Mexico’s modernization process, for example, encouraged a growing migratory pattern among Mayan indigenous communities from rural areas to urban shantytowns. Likewise, in Turkey many deeply impoverished and rural families moved to urban areas. This pattern of migration intensified competition for housing, social services, and employment, and forced migrants to seek out political, religious, and ethnic networks for assistance because the state and its representative branches failed to provide sufficient support. The pressures on government agencies to provide adequate services to a constantly growing urban population were enormous. As gaps between the actual needs of the population and the availability of assistance became obvious, protests led to

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social unrest and fueled anti-government movements. By the mid-1960s, Turkey experienced a slowdown in growth as imports surpassed exports, causing current account deficits that only increased the socio-economic problems facing the country. On the political level, the intensive urbanization process caused significant polarization. Hopes that had enticed rural migrants to abandon their traditional farms in search of employment opportunities in cities evaporated, creating a deep sense of disillusionment and anger. Jacob Landau identified this trend in his seminal study of Turkish radical politics, arguing that “large scale immigration from the village to the city (frequently characterized by settling in shanty-towns or gecekondus) and admission of many students of peasant origin into institutions of higher learning” contributed to growing political participation and radicalization across the spectrum of political parties.26 In 1965, political activists organized demonstrations in the southeastern provinces of Turkey to focus on the pervasiveness of poverty, hunger, and ethnic discrimination. But just two years later, the Turkish government tried to quell the growing support for ethnic Kurdish mobilization by banning Kurdish music and literature. In 1969, an influential Kurdish organization, the DDKO or The Revolutionary Cultural Society of the East (also referred to as The Revolutionary Eastern Cultural Hearths), began to initiate political activities to raise awareness about racism and structural repression faced by Kurds. However, the military quickly intervened, arresting the leading members after the 1971 coup. A similar pattern of radicalization manifested among marginalized communities throughout Latin America. In Peru, for example, students from rural and indigenous backgrounds gained entry into universities for the first time in the 1960s. Exposed to new ideas, including development theories and socialism, Peruvian students became increasingly radicalized as their own communities continued to face extensive unemployment, overt racism, and abject poverty. Clearly, such patterns of political agitation and awareness raising were far from unique to Peru. Parallel to the ascent of the PKK in Turkey during the late 1970s, the infamous Peruvian Maoist Sendero Luminoso or Shining Path emerged. Its leadership determined that conditions were ripe for intervention, and the insurgent group would initiate a campaign to overthrow what the organization had classified as Lima’s bourgeois democracy. Followers of the enigmatic Presidente Gonzalo, a former philosophy professor turned ideologue and guerrilla leader, pursued an idealized Peruvian radical peasant democracy through armed struggle. The Shining Path, along with the military’s counter-insurgency approach, turned Peru into a society of fear from the 1980s into the early 1990s. Similarly, unfulfilled economic expectations and the exposure of university students from impoverished and rural backgrounds to revolutionary ideologies led to radicalization in Turkey. A secondary factor also contributed to the growing political distress in Turkey. Migrants often held

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traditional social values and expressed their religious faith more openly than established city dwellers, in conflict with the secular urbanite elite’s expectations. Over time, a significant portion of the Turkish lower and lower-middle classes perceived the state’s stalwart emphasis on the principles of secularism as heavy-handed and unnecessary. Many groups, including socially conservative ethnic Kurds, disliked the limits on religious self-expression in the public sphere, as well as the state’s management and control over official Islam. In the 1950s and 1960s, the government began to build mosques and took control of the establishment of the imam-hatip secondary schools that educated preachers and prayer leaders. In an effort to domesticate and co-opt Islam for its own nation-building and modernization efforts, the state offered a controlled educational alternative to socially conservative Muslims. Intended to train future generations of preachers and religious educators, imam-hatip schools attracted students from religious families that often resided in nearby shantytowns. Envisioning more career options for their sons, and interested in sending their daughters to religious schools, many families agreed to have their children learn in a safe and morally structured environment. A significant number of families who supported a religious education for their children came from rural origins; some were of Kurdish ethnic background, and many were members of urban squatter communities. As more students graduated from imam-hatip schools, they faced the reality of a lack of employment options and limited career paths. While some graduates found employment as religious Koran teachers, Muslim guidance counselors, and civil servants in the Ministry of Religious Affairs, those interested in a university education often found themselves excluded. As a consequence, many former imam-hatip students started their own businesses and pursued entrepreneurial ventures, joined political parties like the AKP, became involved in financial institutions, and shaped media operations like Vakit, Yeni Şafak, and Zaman. In addition to the economic concerns faced by imam-hatip graduates, some also experienced hostility from members of the secular state bureaucracy. Often, state representatives felt deeply suspicious about the political motivations of imam-hatip students. Perceived as a force that aimed to undermine secularism in Turkey, graduates from religious schools dealt with intense discriminatory patterns in society. In a 2004 ethnographic study of imam-hatip schools, which partially confirmed the fears of secularists, Soon-Yong Pak wrote that the “Imam-Hatip school is a closed-climate education environment with an unequivocal conviction about what kind of people the school is committed to producing. In such a closed-climate organization, the members are more prone to purposefully disregard views that disagree with their own.”27 Feeling marginalized by the secular structure of the state some imam-hatip students appeared to welcome the rise of militant organizations.

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Edip Yüksel, an ethnic Kurd and former leader in the youth wing of the zealous Islamist National Salvation Party, attended the same Istanbul imam-hatip school as Prime Minister Erdoğan. By and large, Islamists are politically driven and fervently pursue the establishment of a religious state often using coercive or violent means. In contrast to Islamists, an Islamic party endorses peaceful sociopolitical change which is inspired by a pious and value-oriented leadership. Although Yüksel was several years younger than Erdoğan, he quickly rose to a leadership position within the Islamist movement. After the 1980 military coup, Yüksel was arrested for Islamist activities, and spent four years in prison under horrible conditions including exposure to torture. The secular state punished him for his writings, which had promoted an Islamist social revolution in Turkey. A few years after his release from prison, Yüksel began to challenge fundamental interpretations of faith traditions among Turkey’s Islamists, surprising many of his former friends from the radical youth wing. In particular, Yüksel criticized Islamists for relying on hadith, the tradition of interpreting orally transmitted words and deeds of the Prophet Mohammed, instead of looking to the Koran exclusively to understand the Muslim faith. Yüksel’s perspective was a significant break with mainstream scholarly interpretations of Islam. Under suspicions from the secular establishment and deeply unpopular among his former Islamist supporters, Yüksel decided to leave Turkey for the United States, where he applied for and received political asylum. 28 As Yüksel’s experience and religious transformation demonstrated, both the secular Turkish state and the Islamic movement failed to fully control graduates of imam-hatip schools. The state could not contain religious pressures in the country by establishing authorized parameters for imam-hatip schools. Meanwhile, the more radical elements within the Islamist movements also faced criticism and underwent several internal reforms that inspired a shift toward pragmatism over time. Neither the majority of religious Turks nor religious Kurds embraced severe limits imposed on the careers of imam-hatip graduates. Many mobilized politically to challenge the state for more religious freedom. This increase in political engagement to undermine the state’s control mechanisms shaped communal resistance and opened up alternative paths to resolving challenges. For example, religious communities supported illegal squatter movements to address housing shortages among recent migrants to urban areas. Religious leaders could thereby highlight the secular state’s social shortcomings and policy inadequacies. The struggle over how to address the growing political assertiveness among graduates of imam-hatip schools has remained a sore point among secular elites. Many contentious socio-political issues today revolve around religious symbolism and self-expression, such as the right to wear a headscarf. Female university students often find themselves barred from attending classes at public universities as long as they wear headscarves, hijab, and

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obvious signs of Islamic dress. Some students attempt to circumvent this ban by wearing large floppy hats or wigs on university grounds. Most hope to avoid a confrontation with administration officials. The difficulty of the public debate is a result of both secular modernization efforts that marginalized religious communities and the state’s attempt to make Islam an instrument for its own political aims. A 2008 incident exposes the current fault lines clearly. The newly appointed rector of Boğaziçi University placed a printed document at the entry gate of the university and required women students who covered their hair to sign it to acknowledge potential legal consequences to their actions, and banned them from the classroom. This measure outraged religious students, who felt that it should be a person’s choice whether to wear a headscarf. According to the university rector, he simply implemented a decision that had been upheld by the constitutional court. In the judges’ interpretations of the law headscarves were classified as “a symbol against secularism.”29 The rector felt an obligation not only to follow but also implement the law, since he served the state as an administrator. After significant public protest related to this decision, he eventually permitted female students who had agreed to wear hats or rain hoods to cover up their headscarves into university classrooms. The new rector’s decision stood in sharp contrast to earlier administrators, who had supported a more liberal position toward students’ clothing choices. In fact, the new rector was the first ever to implement the headscarves ruling at Boğaziçi University, a stronghold among liberals who favored personal freedom. This change in policy at the university galvanized the political debate over personal freedoms in the country. Because of strict rulings by secular members of the judiciary, like the ban of the headscarves, some religious women who were qualified to attend university decided not to enroll at all or dropped out of public university. Others chose to forgo an education beyond the compulsory eight years of primary school, while some left Turkey to study abroad if they managed to receive scholarships. Prime Minister Erdoğan’s daughter decided to pursue her higher education in the United States where she was free to wear a headscarf at university. The rigid enforcement of the headscarf rulings continues to have longterm consequences for conservative Muslim women, of both Turkish and Kurdish ethnicity. Regardless of their qualifications and education, pious women who insist on wearing a headscarf are not permitted to pursue professions in legal services, medical services, or for the state. Lawyers, judges, medical doctors, and civil servants may not cover their hair for religious reasons. Many supporters of secularism within Turkey’s bureaucracy, such as the rector of the university, consider the revival of Islam nothing more than the re-emergence of a backward, reactionary, and anti-modern force that appeals to the uneducated and easily manipulated masses. 30 Ultranationalist Kemalists generally perceive the formation of Islamic parties as

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an attempt to negate the state’s campaigns to advance, civilize, and Westernize the nation. This outlook parallels the state’s attitude toward the ethnic Kurdish minority, perceived as equally backward for its strong support of conservative religious values and its tribal structures. These restrictive religious policies in Turkey convinced EU officials that the country was failing to endorse and implement a clear path toward democratization. The unyielding enforcement of secular rulings indicated a lack of freedom for devout Muslims in a Muslim country. Many Europeans believed that Muslim women in Turkey should be able to wear a headscarf in state offices or at public universities. However, this outlook contrasted sharply with perceptions related to headscarves worn by Muslim women in Europe. Several French, German, and Dutch public officials pursued legal challenges to curtail Muslim women’s practice of wearing headscarves in European public schools. In particular, the use of burkas, also called niqabs, which is the enveloping outer garment that exposes only a woman’s eyes, has become controversial in Europe. In his “state of the nation” speech in June 2009, French President Sarkozy called the burka a sign of female subservience. Proclaiming that “in our country we cannot accept that women be prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of all identity,” Sarkozy called for a commission to study the impact of the burka on women in France.31 From the perspective of a secular bureaucrat in Turkey, the rise of Islamic politics and its affiliated community activism embodied a frontal assault on the core principles Mustafa Kemal had endorsed. In an effort to strengthen secularist positions, which began to shift toward intolerant and anti-democratic attitudes, Kemalist elites intended to slow down the pace of EU reforms while so-called Islamists dominated the government. Some ultra-nationalist Turkish politicians even invoked fears of the rise of a profoundly repressive and fundamentalist regime in Ankara. Insinuating that Islamists aimed to establish a theocracy in Turkey, they warned that Turkey was moving toward a system modeled after the Taliban in Afghanistan. The reformist oriented AKP politicians in government adamantly rebuffed these claims as propaganda, yet had to continuously demonstrate their commitment to the state’s ideological core to ward off libelous attacks. It is overly simplistic to portray the current political discourses as a sign of a deepening struggle between polar opposites, for example secularist against Islamic groups. Turkey’s political spectrum is increasingly broad, and the struggle over accessing power has intensified as more groups try to occupy the political center vacated by traditional secular parties when they lost support in recent elections. In this larger context the Kurdish minority is rarely considered even though an estimated 45 percent of the Kurdish population supported the AKP government in 2008. This sub-group of Kurdish voters, especially labor migrants who live in urban environments, prefer a political agenda that emphasizes social justice and economic reform. Perhaps another 40 percent of Kurds in both rural and urban communities support a more

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secular version of Kurdish nationalism. They favor a process of redefining power relations with the state and the opening up of political space for ethnic minority parties.32 To more accurately frame current political discourses in Turkey, it is important to consider socio-economic shifts that have taken place over several decades. The rising tensions in Turkey are part of a political liberalization process in which limited space was granted to integrate peripheral groups in the late 1980s. Domestic reforms permitted marginal members of society, including Islamists, urban slum dwellers, rural villagers, and ethnic minorities to compete for representation at the center. While some of the membership of the current government originated from more rigid Islamist circles, its leadership transcended divisive categorizations through the establishment of neighborhood social structures that empowered those who had been denied a political voice. Instead of transforming the entire structure of society, pragmatic Islamic politicians in Turkey suggested that they embrace a more moderate ideal. They advocated for the infusion of Muslim values into the political process, not for fundamentalism, but because these values encouraged a more honest, socially committed, and righteous policy approach in contrast with earlier governments. Prime Minister Erdoğan aimed to produce a political ideology that rejected both the traditional right and left ideologies of the past. He portrayed the AKP as an alternative to the harshness of the secular Kemalist Westernization policies of the right, which had denied opportunities and agency to devout Turks. But he also positioned the AKP as a challenger to the culturally and religiously remote left, which framed its struggle in terms of class-consciousness rather than socially conservative and respectful cultural values. Erdoğan invoked a viable third option for disillusioned Turkish and Kurdish voters alike, who had lacked emotional affiliation with either the established right or left ideological circles.33 Religious parties struggled for a long time to become visible in Turkey. The country’s constitutional court closed down several Islamic parties for attempting to participate in the electoral processes in 1971, 1980, and again in 1998 and in 2001.34 When the AKP received 34 percent of the popular vote in the 2002 parliamentary election, it formed a single party majority government. The three parties that had dominated the earlier coalition government failed to even surpass the 10 percent national threshold for representation in parliament. The outcome of the election rocked the foundation of the secular establishment; voters had sent a clear signal to the entire country. Value-driven Islamic politics had become a central part of the electoral landscape in Turkey. Only one other party, the fiercely secular and nationalist Republican People’s Party (CHP), managed to cross the required 10 percent election barrier. The CHP received 19 percent of the vote and became the lone opposition party. Supporters of traditional Kemalism sensed a growing

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weakness among their own party structures and began to position themselves as defenders of modern Turkish ideals. In contrast, both Turkish and Kurdish AKP voters protested the secular establishment through their votes. They critiqued socio-economic inefficiencies, corruption, and secular elitism that excluded the needs of rural farming communities, small town business owners, the urban working class, and recent migrants. As engaged voters, they collectively expressed society’s frustration with divisive and marginal politics. In this political climate, the AKP effectively presented itself as an alternative centrist pro-Western, modern, and pro-business party. Its campaign emphasized socially conservative democratic values, and embraced the principles of an Islamic but not fundamentalist Islamist direction. Among the party’s most effective ideas were its support for Turkish membership in the EU and its clear preference for neoliberal capitalist policies. By 2005, Prime Minister Erdoğan had figured out that empowering provincial capitalists who espoused traditional social values would inspire confidence in voters who felt marginalized both economically and spiritually. The increase of public support emboldened the party to oppose a repressive adherence to secularism, as in the case of the university students who decided to wear headscarves as a personal expression of their faith. In 2007, the AKP gained further credibility among its conservative voters by framing headscarf rulings in Turkey as a culturally foreign ideal. The AKP government seemed to push back against the powerful secular elites of the old establishment for embracing Westernization without a culturally based critique. After all, the AKP argued, French public schools also denied young women permission to wear headscarves. Yet the French state articulated a different rationale for its decision. In contrast to Turkey’s subordination of the religious realm to the state’s sphere of interest, France’s Minister of National Education Xavier Darcos explained that “the headscarf is a sexist sign, and discrimination between the sexes has no place in the republican school.”35 When the Turkish Constitutional Court released its explanation for why wearing the headscarf would not be permitted at public universities in June 2008, many supporters of the AKP disagreed with the judges’ detailed comments. Stating that the headscarf had been turned into a political symbol, the constitutional court argued that the act of wearing such a symbol at public universities or in official state buildings would encourage ideological struggles and clashes between conservative Muslims and secular Muslims. Many conservative Turkish and Kurdish women considered the act of wearing a headscarf a personal decision that should not be regulated by the state. For a segment of the AKP voting public, the headscarf symbolized the country’s cultural heritage rather than backwardness, anti-modern ideals, or provincial worldviews. While the Turkish government failed to win the headscarf case in the courts, the electorate rewarded the AKP for its unambiguous stance. To many voters, the secular elite seemed hostile

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in its interactions with a large segment of Turkey’s population during the headscarf debate. It was not surprising that the AKP improved its electoral standing further after the 2007 parliamentary elections. Becoming the strongest party in the country, the AKP earned nearly 47 percent of popular support. This result signaled a potential change of direction in the country’s domestic and international policy choices. The election began a process of integration for previously disenfranchised and marginalized population groups into Turkey’s formerly closed political arena. The Kurdish minority began to express cautious optimism for a future that included improved minority rights following the 2007 election.

3 R

The Kurdish Wedge

ETHNIC POLITICS Religious Turks rejoiced in the aftermath of the decisive 2007 parliamentary election, while members of the Kemalist secularist elites hoped to be able to slow down or even undermine the legitimacy and influence of the AKP. At the same time, Kurdish nationalists searched for opportunities to gain a voice at the national political level. Ethnic Kurdish parties had experienced a similar pattern of exclusion and marginalization to Islamic parties, having been banned regularly for so-called separatist or seditious activities in Turkey. Accused of representing subversive ideologies and sustaining PKK terrorism, the leadership of the People’s Labor Party (HEP), the Democratic Party (DEP), and the People’s Democracy Party (HADEP), coped with constant harassment by state security agencies before facing formal legal prosecution. The secular judiciary focused on taking action that weakened and silenced Kurdish organizations and its affiliated identity-based parties. Through the banning of specific parties, which often followed the imposition of lengthy prison sentences and significant monetary damages for individuals in leadership positions, the state pursued a strategy of destabilizing ethnic Kurdish parties. Among the most famous and internationally recognized Kurdish politicians targeted by the state was Leyla Zana, a former DEP member and the first Kurdish woman elected to Turkey’s parliament. From 1994 to 2004 Zana was imprisoned for Kurdish political activism and “denigration of Turkishness,” and in 2008 state prosecutors convicted her again for another 10-year prison term for supporting PKK terrorism. Zana had given several speeches between

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2007 and 2008 that the courts deemed supportive of violent Kurdish resistance to state authority. Despite targeted legal tactics to silence her and other Kurdish politicians, lawyers, and community activists, the process of reconstituting Kurdish parties continued. Ethnic parties attracted and appealed to a significant portion of voters in Kurdish communities despite the state’s continued effort to intimidate the leadership as well as the voting public. In 1999, the ethnic Kurdish party HADEP surfaced as the strongest regional party in the southeastern provinces of Turkey, even though it faced an imminent threat of closure by the government due to allegations that it served as a front organization for the PKK. HADEP received 28 percent of the regional vote and dominated in Diyarbakir, a centrally important city for ethnic Kurdish identity politics in Turkey. In Diyarbakir, HADEP managed to attract 62 percent of the total vote, indicating the party’s stronghold on this politically significant city. Although the national secular government at the time attempted to weaken HADEP’s public appeal by framing it as a supporter of violent and separatist agendas, regional Kurdish voters steadfastly endorsed HADEP. However, on the national level, HADEP failed to achieve the required 10 percent threshold in the election, the prerequisite for entering Turkey’s national parliament. By 2003, the Turkish constitutional court closed down HADEP despite significant criticism by the European Parliament, international human rights groups, and civil society organizations such as Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the Kurdish Human Rights Project (KHRP) located in London. By consistently shutting down ethnic Kurdish parties and prosecuting Kurdish political leaders, the state essentially undermined its own effectiveness and enhanced the PKK’s ability to address and shape the population’s political needs. In 2007 another Kurdish party, the Democratic Society Party (DTP), faced closure procedures as its chairman Ahmet Türk and other leadership members stood accused of involvement with seditious forces. The state’s chief prosecutor in the closure case against the DTP, Abdurrahman Yalçinkaya, argued that the party operated as a political extension of the PKK. Yalçinkaya, ideologically characterized as a “Kemalist warhorse,” suggested that the Kurdish DTP had been formed on an order from PKK leader Öcalan, indicating that the DTP membership embraced the use of violence.1 The state’s indictment named 221 members of the DTP, which also affected eight sitting members of Turkey’s parliament, who were to be banned for five years from membership in a political party.2 DTP leader Ahmet Türk, as well as other party members, expressed concern that a judiciary decision to ban the DTP would lead to further radicalization among regional Kurdish politics. Kurdish politicians argued that should the DTP be banned, moderate Kurdish voices would become irrelevant and eventually be silenced in Turkey. In December 2009, the constitutional court decided to ban the DTP and arrested dozens of Kurdish politicians and community activists.

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As early as 2007, ethnic Kurdish political candidates from the DTP had been accused by state prosecutors of working under the direction of PKK leader Öcalan. Facing immediate political bans for allegedly supporting terrorism, Kurdish candidates for parliament implemented an innovative maneuver to circumvent the potential sanctions. By running as unaffiliated or independent legislators instead of joining a national party such as the DTP, they hoped to prevent closure proceedings against the party and avoid having its legislators arrested. A secondary motivating factor for this tactic was that as independent candidates they competed for seats in the national assembly without facing the requirement of having to pass the 10 percent threshold of the national vote. As a result, Kurdish legislators only would have to gain 10 percent on the provincial level to join parliament. This had proven to be a manageable hurdle for Kurdish candidates in earlier elections. The outcome of the 2007 election confirmed the effectiveness of this tactic as some 20 independent parliamentarians, unofficially affiliated with the DTP, entered parliament alongside the successful AKP. Initially, Kurdish DTP representatives hoped to solicit support from among members of the AKP for their own regional platform. Immediately after their election, the Kurdish legislators focused on introducing agenda items that appealed to ethnic voters in the region. They identified standard Kurdish concerns such as the ability to use their language openly and to access broadcasting rights. The claim of serving as independent legislators while demonstrating an obvious alliance with the DTP quickly exposed them to accusations of supporting ethnic separatism and affiliation with the PKK. By the end of 2007, the state’s chief prosecutor pursued his goal of eliminating all threats to the integrity of the Kemalist state. He argued that the DTP undermined Turkish national unity and the country’s territorial integrity. Commenting in frustration on this all too familiar political choreography, Turkish Daily News contributor Oral Çalişlar stated: I think we are not making any progress. We keep repeating the same old. For instance the closure case filed against the pro-Kurdish Democratic Society Party, or DTP. If you ask me how many similar cases have been filed so far, I cannot give you a correct answer. All the parties formed by the Kurdish movement were shut down in the 1990s. Closure cases against political parties seem ordinary, routine developments.3

Kurds who rejected the use of armed struggle or revolution interpreted the closure case against the DTP as another gloomy reminder that conditions in the country had not significantly improved for Kurds. Politically engaged members of the minority learned quickly that they would continue to run into major road blocks despite the electoral successes of the once marginal AKP. If Kurds had hoped to establish an ethnic Kurdish party that was able to separate itself from the PKK and eventually compete with it by providing

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an alternative vision, they were disappointed. As a matter of routine, Kurdish representatives continued to face accusations of collaborating with the PKK or even as acting as a mouthpiece for terrorists. For international observers and analysts of Turkish politics, the longstanding practice of marginalizing Kurdish representatives only contributed to postponing a fuller political liberalization in Turkey. It became obvious that banning the DTP or any of its future variations could not resolve the underlying problems related to deficiencies in Turkey’s democracy. The continual exclusion of Kurdish concerns from the national debate magnified the so-called democratic gap in Turkey. While EU officials recognized that organic linkages between the DTP and the PKK presented a problem, Turkey’s unwillingness to engage in an honest and open dialogue with legitimately elected Kurdish representatives indicated a stubborn resistance to seeking a solution. In addition, EU representatives criticized Turkish leaders for ignoring civil society organizations and refusing to grant agency to any ethnically based group that pursued a peaceful resolution to the Kurdish question. Despite the electoral successes of independent Kurdish parliamentarians, mainstream political parties in Turkey simply continued to ignore, dismiss, or reinterpret the positions of ethnic Kurdish voters instead of incorporating Kurdish communal needs and concerns. Under pressure by the constitutional court itself, the leadership of the AKP appeared to copy exclusionary patterns toward ethnic Kurdish parties from past Kemalist administrations. Despite its own long-standing resistance to political marginalization in Turkey, the AKP considered the idea of embracing an ethnically based party too problematic. Instead, the AKP envisioned an alternative appeal that would unite all voters, including ethnic Kurds. Under the umbrella of moderate Islamic values, the AKP hoped to avoid any entanglement with ethnic demands. Despite recognizing the importance of addressing Kurdish demands since the AKP’s 2002 arrival on the national political scene, the party proved to be reluctant to develop an independent policy approach to the Kurdish issue. For fear of provoking a nationalist backlash in the country that could challenge the AKP’s legitimacy, its leadership failed to demonstrate the necessary political will to take the lead in addressing grievances expressed by ethnic and religious minorities in Turkey. Uneasy about constant media criticism and apprehensive of facing a unified bloc of opposition in the form of a military-bureaucratic alliance, the AKP leadership shied away from taking bold steps, even though Kurdish voters represented an important constituency. In Diyarbakir, the AKP had won 41 percent of the vote during the 2007 election, which was a serious challenge to the ethnic Kurdish party.4 Shortly before the 2007 election, the AKP employed a conciliatory tone toward Kurdish demands and granted wide-ranging fund allocations in Kurdish regions, but after the election the party fell short of developing a comprehensive proposal to

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address Kurdish voters’ expectations. Unfulfilled promises and disillusionment with the AKP among ethno-nationalist and socialist segments of the Kurdish constituency contributed to a sense of fatigue among Kurdish voters. They were all too familiar with vague proposals advanced by governing coalitions supposedly in support of potential solutions to the Kurdish conflict. Despite its strong electoral showing among Kurdish voters, the AKP rejected the idea of working with Kurdish civil society activists that were committed to ethnically based political engagement. The arrival of Islamic parties on the national scene, once perceived as opening up political space for the Kurdish minority, turned out to be a disappointment. The AKP government seemed just as reluctant as prior administrations to recognize specific demands articulated by Kurdish communities. An exchange between AKP Prime Minister Erdoğan and former Diyarbakir Bar Association President Sezğin Tanrikulu illustrated the lack of political will and imagination within the AKP to address specific needs of the Kurdish population. Tanrikulu, an ethnic Kurd who in 1997 was selected as the Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights Award winner for his legal work in defense of Kurdish human rights, suggested that the Kurdish southeastern provinces required more than just economic measures to overcome regional problems. He proposed that political measures be considered for the region, which should include cultural protections such as Kurdish language education. The prime minister, clearly displeased by the public challenge, responded by saying: “education in a mother tongue does not exist anywhere in the world.”5 While the prime minister’s response was factually incorrect—as instruction in minority languages has been an option in many European countries including Switzerland, Germany, Sweden, and Spain to name just a few—Erdoğan’s response revealed that the AKP had no intentions of breaking with past socio-cultural and political measures in the Kurdish region.6 Erdoğan’s dismissal of the issue of instruction in Kurdish in Diyarbakir also demonstrated a highly problematic attempt at keeping hostile secular forces, in particular the military, at bay. Brazen attacks by the PKK against Turkish police stations and other facilities in the southeast had caught the AKP government by surprise. Rather than develop an alternative voice to shape a new approach to the Kurdish question the AKP ended up supporting the increasingly aggressive agenda of the military leadership and its advocates in the ultra-nationalist circles. As the party incorporated the language of Turkish nationalism in the hopes of quieting critics, the increase of inflammatory rhetoric led the AKP leadership to back away completely from addressing the Kurdish conflict. To Kurdish nationalists, socialists, and Alevis, Erdoğan started to sound indistinguishable from the ultra-secularist camps as he tried to protect the AKP from suggestions that its leadership sympathized with PKK separatists and terrorists. The AKP

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government began to frame the military’s fight against terrorism in terms of heroism, labeled fallen soldiers as national martyrs, and asserted that the country was defending itself against an existential threat to Turkish national unity.7 To many politicized and leftist Kurds, the AKP had become fully co-opted by the military’s authoritarian rhetoric and hostile policies toward minorities. In fact, by 2007 it seemed that the government had abdicated its responsibility for creating political space for Kurds. The AKP embraced the military’s assertion that it was necessary to take firm control by suppressing resistance in the predominantly Kurdish provinces. This step was a strategic error for a party that had benefited from Kurdish electoral support since promising a new policy approach to addressing the needs of Kurdish communities. The party’s sudden willingness to consider a partial military approach to the Kurdish question indicated that the AKP no longer represented the interests of a significant segment of this constituency. For a limited period of time, the AKP managed to benefit from its collusion with the Turkish military. It protected itself from misleading and insidious innuendo that accused the party of surreptitiously supporting creeping Islamization. But the AKP missed an opportunity to weaken the PKK through the development of an alternative political approach, and failed to reduce popular support for armed struggle in the southeastern provinces.

MISSED OPPORTUNITIES The Turkish government chose to ignore lessons learned by other democracies that granted cultural and political rights to minorities after lengthy and painful periods of violence. Both the UK and Spain dealt with terrorism and separatist movements for decades. An examination of effective and failed policies in these two countries provides a useful insight into de-escalating demands for cultural rights. Spain succeeded in undermining popular support for Terre Lluire (Free Land), a separatist organization in Catalonia, as well as the Catalan Red Liberation Army by reducing centralized state controls and employing policing strategies rather than relying on the military. While Spain continues to strive to further weaken the Basque Homeland and Freedom organization, better known by its acronym ETA, the levels of violence have diminished in recent years, improving the prospect for an eventual peace agreement.8 ETA’s Marxist-Leninist ideological sympathies, its nationalist aims, and its use of both guerrilla and political structures in Spain and in France, allow for a limited but constructive comparison with the PKK’s cross-border operations in Turkey and Iraq. Consecutive Spanish governments have vetted, dismissed, and implemented myriad socio-cultural and political ideas to weaken ETA. This contrasts with Turkey’s decades-long emphasis on

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ineffective, or at best only partially effective, military measures to eviscerate the PKK and its support structures. In addition, Turkey’s legalistic wrangling to suppress Kurdish nationalism and to diminish Kurdish representation on the political level has only contributed to an intensification of fighting rather than providing support for the diffusion of tension and violence. In a limited sense, Turkish approaches to destroying the PKK can be compared with Colombian military measures to defeat the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). Expert remarks such as those made by Virginia M. Bouvier in a 2008 United States Institute of Peace Briefing on the state of the Colombian approach to weakening the FARC sounded eerily familiar to assessments disseminated about the Kurdish question in Turkey. Bouvier commented: Even if military victory were to be forthcoming (the FARC have stymied fulfillment of this prediction for decades), it would need to be accompanied by some political arrangement that addresses the prevalent social crisis— characterized by poverty, lack of education and job opportunities, and economic inequality—that fostered the rise and consolidation of the FARC. . . . even if the entire FARC leadership were eliminated, the conflict is likely to continue, and the need to pursue broader political solutions would remain.9

Initially, the AKP seemed inspired to seek a new path for the Kurdish region, but its decision to emphasize the headscarf debate instead of addressing the Kurdish question undermined much of the good will the party had accrued in the southeastern provinces. Hoping to transcend ethnic issues by appealing to values shared by pious voters, the AKP misjudged the intensity and determination of the nationalist and socialist oriented activists among Kurdish communities. Many Kurdish voters expected the AKP to develop an alternative model to the standard counter-insurgency efforts in the Kurdish areas. But as the interaction between the Prime Minister and the former ethnic Kurdish President of Diyarbakir’s Bar Association illustrated, the AKP was forced to justify itself when civil society organizations posed questions that challenged the AKP to fulfill its electoral promises. The party’s decision to emphasize broad religious values over more specific and targeted policy proposals did not succeed in circumnavigating ethnic, social, and religious differences in the country. The AKP appealed to devout Kurdish voters but ignored the more complex issues of ethnicity and nationalism, which made its policies look deceptively similar to oldfashioned assimilation tactics. The notion that Sunni Islam would emerge as an overarching bond that linked all Turkish voters to a shared set of values was misleading. For Alevi Kurds, and the majority of ideologically committed leftist and ethno-nationalist Kurds, the emphasis on a shared set of values revealed profound narrow-mindedness among members of AKP.

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The party’s direction signaled their disregard and deep lack of sensitivity for concerns considered important by religious minorities as well as secularlyoriented Kurds. The Alevi minority in Turkey, for instance, is estimated to be a quarter of the Turkish population, at least 15–18 million people. As believers in an egalitarian and liberal mysticism that originated in Anatolia, Alevis have been violently targeted as heretics by Sunni Muslims in the past. Alevis tend to be divided by ethnicity and language, as there are ethnic Kurdish, Turkish, and Arab Alevis who speak Kurdish, Turkish, Zazaki, and Arabic. Alevi communities overlap with Kurdish circles and have become involved in identity politics and the pursuit of cultural and religious recognition within Turkish political structures. Some Alevis support Kurdish nationalist endeavors and participate in guerrilla activities. Ultra-nationalist Turks tend to use this fact as sufficient evidence and justification for classifying the entire religious minority as suspicious. Kerem Öktem, a research fellow with the European Studies Center at Oxford, indicates that the Sunni-dominated AKP made gestures to welcome Alevis into its circles but that the AKP may not be as forthright as they seemed. He suggested that the party “has ignored both long-standing requests and grievances from the [Alevi] community as well as its organized civil society.” According to Öktem, “the AKP’s new Alevi policy is not based on an affirmative recognition of difference and a readiness to acknowledge past mistakes, but appears to follow the clientelist model of incorporation and assimilation that the party has so far successfully employed for the incorporation of Kurdish voters.”10 It seems that the AKP has failed to reach out effectively to Alevi Kurdish voters, and instead concentrated on appealing to merely Sunni Kurdish voters. The AKP’s appeal to devout members of religious and ethnic minorities cannot resolve issues related to Kurdish identity by assuming that Kurds, including Alevis, will simply opt for Islamic parties. Instead, Alevis could decide to support nationalist Kurdish parties, secular parties, or even embrace the objectives pursued by the radical PKK. The AKP also will find it financially unfeasible to continue to allocate significant amounts of funding to the Kurdish region in support of pet projects that appeal to a narrow group of voters. For example, the Erdoğan government distributed free coal to some 65,000 impoverished families in the region as part of a scheme to gain electoral support during the winter months of 2008–2009.11 Known to local voters as “the party of services,” the AKP provided significant resources to specific areas to alleviate devastating unemployment problems and to improve the poor state of the infrastructure. In a major announcement in May 2008, the AKP promised to bring an additional $15 billion to the region by completing the Southeast Anatolian Project (GAP), a massive hydroelectric and irrigation plan that was supposed to create four million jobs in the southeastern region.

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However, the global economic slowdown revealed these pledges as exaggerated electoral promises rather than realistic economic investment plans. Both Alevi and Kurdish communities have begun to look for signals from their civil society leadership for judging the credibility of the AKP. In the long run, signs of intolerance toward Alevis will hurt the popularity of the AKP and undermine its attempt to transcend religious and ethnic divisions in the country. Kurdish and Alevi civil society organizations are sure to pursue full democratic rights for their minority groups. They will demand a productive dialogue with larger Turkish society, and they tend to expect the eventual de-militarization of the southeastern provinces. Despite the ongoing struggles and the limited progress in the Kurdish region there is little doubt that the electoral successes of the AKP have created opportunities for Kurds in the country—even if the slow pace of reform has fallen far short of many Kurdish voters’ expectations.

POLITICAL GAMES Examining AKP policies toward the southeastern provinces alongside those implemented by earlier administrations, it is clear that the position of the Kurdish minority was much less tenable during earlier decades. The state’s rigid emphasis on Kemalist ideology manifested itself through several consecutive military coup d’états. In particular, following the military intervention in 1971 and immediately after the coup in 1980, the state eliminated political, religious, and ethnic opponents for their interpretations of nationhood. Many of the most outspoken and radicalized adversaries of the Turkish state, among them writers, editors, political activists, and students, left the country to escape prison sentences and torture dungeons. Finding it impossible to return to Turkey over the past couple of decades, some dissidents continued to express their disdain for Turkey’s inability to overcome the military’s influence on public life from abroad. Doğan Özgüden, for instance, the chief editor of the Brussels based non-profit organization Info-Türk, harshly criticized Turkey’s constitution as a lasting reminder of the military’s destructive and authoritarian role in Turkish society. He suggested that The constitution enforced in Turkey is a militarist constitution, which was imposed after the coup d’état in 1980. It is therefore clearly based on a Kemalist ultra-nationalist ideology. Furthermore it denies the people many fundamental rights whether they are from ethnic or religious minorities.12

Özgüden’s involvement with the Workers Party of Turkey (WPT) and his work as publisher of the Istanbul-based socialist review Ant, along with running the Ant Publishing House throughout the 1960s, made him a target of the nationalist segment of society—including the military. Ant Publishing House released more than 50 critical books, and the socialist review’s

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lengthy articles expressed constant and biting criticism of the authorities. Özgüden and his fellow contributors, most notably Ant’s co-founder and co-editor Inci Tuğsavul-Özgüden, criticized the difficult economic and social conditions for urban workers, peasants, the Kurdish minority, and the children of politically silenced and socially repressed classes. In response to the relentless challenges by the writers, the Turkish establishment repeatedly sued the two editors to intimidate and silence them. 13 When an Ant editorial announced that it was time for a shift in the Marxist movement, namely from analytical thinking to a new emphasis on practical intervention in the political environment, state authorities began to persecute staff members in earnest.14 Özgüden’s connection to the WPT created an additional layer of suspicion about his level of radicalism, especially after the party criticized the discrimination and persecution of minorities in Turkey. With its powerful links to a very active trade union movement, the party had a wide range of supporters and became the first party to integrate demands for the improvements of the miserable condition of Kurdish people into a larger platform. Politically aware Kurds found the WPT appealing. What attracted them to most left-wing parties was the hope that organized and engaged groups could broaden the political consciousness in the country—a common ideal among nationalist Kurds and leftist Turks. Following the 1971 military takeover, however, Özgüden and TuğsavulÖzgüden left for Europe to avoid arrest and long prison sentences. The military junta accused both editors of having committed “crimes of opinion” and “incitement of peasants.” This forced them into permanent exile for fear of physical harm, torture, or even death. In 1982 the Özgüdens were stripped of their Turkish citizenship along with some 200 other opponents of the military regime who resided abroad. As late as 2003 the Turkish government accused Doğan Özgüden of “insulting the Turkish army.” He has been tried in absentia followed by warrants for his arrest that have been issued to all Turkish border crossings. According to Özgüden, “a strong sense of cooperation and solidarity has existed between the exiled Turkish and Kurdish left since the 1971 and 1980 military coups. We are always determined to defend the fundamental rights of the Kurdish people and of all other minorities.”15 In their role as co-editors of Info-Türk, Özgüden and his wife have demonstrated a decades-long commitment to the democratization of the political, social, and cultural life for all members of Turkish society. In 2006, the Özgüdens along with three other journalists received the Ayse Zarakolu Price for Freedom of Thought awarded by the Istanbul Section of the Human Rights Association of Turkey (IHD) for their courageous commitment to freedom of the press and their work related to Info-Türk in Belgium. But for those who adhere to the exclusive ideals espoused by the Turkish ultra-nationalists, an organization such as Info-Türk continues to be a threat to the nation’s stability, its territorial integrity, and its reputation as a powerful secular state. “Sadly,”

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Özgüden stated, “some members of the Turkish left have decided to join the side of the ultra-nationalists and militarist forces.”16 While Turkish left-wing organizations in Europe such as Info-Türk are perceived as an annoyance, but not as an immediate threat to Turkey, separatist rhetoric by Kurdish ethno-nationalist groups provoke an instant, hostile response from Turkish secular nationalists. Since the 1980s, the military has emphasized the suppression of so-called ethnic separatism among members of the Kurdish minority population. Speaking or publishing in the Kurdish language became classified as support for separatist activities following the 1980 military coup. Elected public officials stood accused of aiding Kurdish terrorism or of membership in the PKK for speaking Kurdish. This practice of silencing Kurds and their supporters has been continued under the AKP government, despite constant challenges by elected Kurdish public officials affiliated with the DTP. The experience of Abdullah Demirbaş, a former mayor of the district Sur in Diyarbakir, illustrated this pattern convincingly. In 2006 the municipality of Sur carried out a linguistic survey, which identified that only 24 percent of the population spoke Turkish, 72 percent spoke Kurdish, and the remaining 4 percent used Armenian, Syriac (also known as Assyrian), and Arabic dialects to conduct their daily business. To properly serve the multiethnic and multilingual populations, the municipality and the mayor voted to introduce official services in several languages other than Turkish, including in Kurdish and English. Demirbaş modeled the multilingual effort in Diyarbakir after the city of Istanbul which was led by an AKP mayor. The city council of Istanbul decided to offer English language services to better respond to the growing needs expressed by foreign residents and tourists. In response to this open challenge by a Kurdish official, the Turkish Interior Ministry filed a complaint of separatism against the municipality and its elected leadership. The Turkish Council of State followed up by disbanding the municipal council of Sur. In addition, state prosecutors recommended prison sentences for Sur mayor Demirbaş and Diyarbakir metropolitan mayor Osman Baydemir. Despite the example of the city of Istanbul where municipal regulations were communicated to tourists in English, the Turkish Council of State was not swayed. Its legal team accused the mayors of Diyarbakir of violating the constitution by overstepping their power by authorizing state services in languages other than Turkish. For this act of defiance the two mayors faced legal consequences under the broadly defined accusation that they had engaged in propaganda activities that aided separatist terror organizations.17 The powers of the Turkish Council of State are grounded in the country’s constitution. As such it is the highest level of the Turkish administrative court structure. Its mandate is to redress issues related to unilateral or unlawful acts authorized by high-level civil servants and public officials, and to deal with abuses of fiscal responsibility in the public arena.

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Metropolitan mayor Baydemir had been involved in a series of lengthy disputes with the AKP government, and specifically with Prime Minister Erdoğan, over regional development and financial management decisions. Baydemir claimed that the government disadvantaged the city of Diyarbakir by downgrading necessary infrastructural improvement projects as superfluous. He also faced a prison sentence for having granted permission to use a publicly financed ambulance to transport the body of an accused PKK member as part of a funeral procession. A further trial had been scheduled as a consequence of Baydemir’s use of the term “guerrilla” instead of “terrorist” in his descriptions of the organizational structure of the PKK. In many ways, the increasingly bitter interactions and the constant legal challenges between Baydemir and Erdoğan indicated a deteriorating situation for all factions among the Kurdish population in Diyarbakir. Baydemir attempted to demonstrate that the AKP government was controlling and authoritarian, that it overreached its authority, and that it discriminated against secular Kurds by providing advantages to religious Turks and Kurds. The legal and verbal battles between the two men appeared to be as much about their future legitimacy as leaders as it was about the electoral survival of both the AKP and the DTP in the Kurdish provinces. The Kurdish question and in particular discussions related to Kurdish cultural rights have become a wedge issue in Turkish domestic politics. As a divisive and traditionally controversial topic, even the most judicious comments about civil or human rights for ethnic Kurds can be used to weaken and undermine political opponents. Organizations in Turkey that aim to address minority rights are vulnerable to verbal assaults by the media or surrogates of state actors who consider themselves members of a network responsible for the protection of national unity. Most parties in Turkey across the spectrum have used nationalist rhetoric to attract and mobilize voters, and to reassure their constituencies. While the right-wing tends to appropriate the most patriotic and uncompromising language, left-leaning parties and Islamic parties also have benefited politically from nationalist notions. The left-wing often refers to the dangers of imperialist aspirations among Western powers, and the Islamic parties proclaim the benefits of returning to an authentic Turkish greatness. In a 2008 speech to a Kurdish audience, Erdoğan reinforced his assertive nationalist voice by touting the virtues of “one nation, one flag, one country,” adding that anyone who failed to share this ideal should feel free to leave.18 Ridiculing his authoritarian tendencies, leftist activists and Kurds expanded Erdoğan’s statement to “one nation, one flag, one country, and one leader.”19 The political habit of engaging in populist or even rabidly nationalist rhetoric to temporarily advance a party’s position has been hard to break in Turkey and continues to damage serious efforts to democratize the country. For many outside observers of political developments in Turkey, the implementation of greater Kurdish political, cultural, and civil rights

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remains the litmus test for the country’s path toward fuller democratization. Without significant changes in the most marginalized areas of the country, Turkey’s embrace of liberal democratic values will seem superficial, and Turkey’s hopes for inclusion in the EU may be dashed. But perhaps that is the emerging, if not openly articulated, preference among an element of the military establishment. Its leadership enjoys little benefit from subordination to civilian powers, which it perceives as quietly endorsing a form of creeping Islamism. Recommitting the nation to a counter-insurgency campaign to eliminate the Kurdish guerrilla threat allows the military to assert its long-standing position of societal influence, and to delay if not reject the EU’s demands for further reforms. As long as AKP’s policies betray political dysfunction or insecurity, and express the need for further legitimization beyond the electoral process in Turkey, the AKP cannot provide an effective counterbalance to the increasingly aggressive cadres of ultranationalists. While the leadership of the AKP looks to the EU framework to advance and implement democratization, it struggles to enforce and institutionalize substantive change in the country. The AKP will continue to lack the ability to restrain and control the military and the state’s secular bureaucracy as long as its leadership seems erratic and unwilling to be more pragmatic. Prime Minister Erdoğan’s unfortunate talent to upset audiences both domestically and abroad has undermined the party’s ability to advance its agenda. In February 2008 for instance, when the prime minister visited Cologne, Germany, he called the assimilation of Turks into German society “a crime against humanity.” Erdoğan’s nationalistic remarks unsettled the German public, its government, and Kurdish immigrants to Europe. But most of all, he upset Kurdish activists in Turkey, whom he had encouraged to assimilate into Turkish society just weeks earlier. Kurds wondered if this meant that the Turkish government admitted that it had engaged in a crime against humanity by forcing Kurds to assimilate into Turkish society. However, one controversial public relations effort may have appealed to Erdoğan’s loyal voting bloc, namely when the AKP made overtures to Hamas. Erdoğan had raised vocal criticism of Israel’s aggressive counterinsurgency policies toward Gaza during 2008 and 2009. While this allowed the AKP to enhance its appeal to religious voters, Erdoğan’s apparent support for Hamas confirmed the party’s unreliability and hidden agendas to members of the secular establishment. The military leadership and top officials of the judicial bureaucracy expressed outrage at the AKP’s sympathetic remarks about Hamas. In addition to such controversies, AKP’s less than stellar performance on the socio-political and economic levels did not bode well for a fresh and innovative approach to the Kurdish question in the coming years.

4 R

Visions of Kurdistan

AGAINST FORGETTING1 The Kurdish question continues to emerge at the core of nearly all unresolved conflicts in Turkey. Rigid boundaries once established by the state to intimidate, curtail, and restrain the formation of an independent civil society have inspired a variety of oppositional responses. Without effectively addressing Kurdish grievances Turkey will not advance its bid for full membership in the European Union. The country will be hard pressed to reform its authoritarian ideological underpinnings, and may fall short of achieving its full economic potential—particularly in the more impoverished southeastern provinces. But most of all, Turkey will continue to be consumed by its ongoing dedication to securing the nation. The country’s ability to address the Kurdish question has been hampered by excessive politicization that classified the PKK as an existential threat to the nation. In a combined effort, the military, judiciary, political parties, influential academics, and representatives of the media succeeded in fully securitizing public discourses related to Kurdish minority issues. This has led to extremely hostile reactions to even the most rational and thoughtful criticism of the state’s ideology. All challenges to power holders are easily framed as profoundly hostile to the Turkish national identity whenever deemed convenient or expedient. To unravel this knot, Turkish society will have to revisit its past. Understanding the destructive nature of the country’s exclusionary approach toward ethnic and religious identity is a first step in this direction. To create a more democratic and inclusive future, Turkish society must reinterpret

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what makes up the country’s national identity. As Kendal Nezan, President of the Kurdish Institute in Paris suggested over 25 years ago, “The present situation of the Kurdish people can only be understood in its historical context, notably in light of the events of the last hundred years.”2 A brief glimpse into the past will help to examine the conditions that contributed to the emergence of the PKK and explore the goals that shaped Kurdish identity questions since the early 1980s. It is important to examine the reasons that continue to compel some to join the Kurdish guerrilla movement and others to support its affiliated political structures in Turkey and abroad. A thoughtful reconciliation of the past with the present may open up opportunities to identify new and alternative ways of evaluating the situation. Prior to World War I, most Kurdish tribal communities subsisted and some even prospered in the border regions between the Ottoman Empire (dissolved in 1922), Qajar Iran (a dynasty deposed in 1925), and the encroaching Russian Empire (prior to the Russian Revolution in 1917).3 Kurdish tribal chiefs carved out quasi-autonomous fiefdoms that benefited from rising tensions between the competing interests of empires. Focusing on strengthening their own regional authority, Kurdish tribal leaders sought out alliances with empires, which in turn advanced everyone’s regional interests. Without the collaboration of tribes it was harder for the Qajars and the Ottomans to manage the outer margins of their territories. Kurdish leaders interacted regularly with emissaries of empires who enforced control in a variety of ways, including paying for the aid of Kurdish leadership. Traditionally, Kurds relied on income that they earned through the use of mountain pastures, agricultural activity, and taxes collected from subservient peasant populations. In addition, caravan and trade routes contributed a vital and reliable source of revenue. Kurdish tribal chiefs welcomed the lucrative collaboration with empires. As Kurds acted on behalf of the empires along the fringes, tribal leaders also offered security services for traders or robbed caravans if they happened to cross into hostile tribal regions. By working with empires and carrying out military raids in the interest of those empires, Kurdish leaders ensured the economic viability and regional security of Kurds. Over time, such arrangements between empires and local power brokers incorporated tribal structures into the administrative configurations of empires. Tribal militias increasingly took on the role of what today would be considered a paramilitary force or even mercenary troops, carrying out or enforcing the state’s preferred policies in remote regions. As a result, tribal economic and political controls over geographic buffer zones increased, and their leaders asserted growing influence through traditional patron-client relationships. Eventually a symbiotic relationship developed between tribal structures and empires that lasted until the collapse of Ottoman rule.4 When the Allied forces defeated the Ottoman Empire in 1918, British troops occupied Mesopotamia, including the region from Sulamaniyah all

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the way north to Mosul (today this area is controlled by the Kurdish Regional Government). There, British forces encountered extensive Kurdish tribal structures along with experienced militias. Inclined to grant autonomy to a number of Kurdish leaders to avoid further battles, the Allies proposed to carve up the decaying Ottoman Empire. The devastated Ottoman elites felt that they had run out of options and signed the Treaty of Sèvres in 1920. Based on Woodrow Wilson’s declaration of the principles of civilization, Kurds, among other minorities, were granted the opportunity to claim statehood—at least in an abstract sense. President Wilson’s “Fourteen Points” speech delivered in joint session of Congress on January 8, 1918 proposed “the Turkish portion of the present Ottoman Empire should be assured a secure sovereignty, but the other nationalities which are now under Turkish rule should be assured an undoubted security of life and an absolutely unmolested opportunity of autonomous development.”5 This portion of Wilson’s speech, and in particular articles 62–64 of the Treaty of Sèvres, defined specific geographic boundaries as territory to be controlled by Kurds and appeared to grant Kurdish society the right to establish an autonomous homeland if sufficient support was expressed. But the Treaty of Sèvres was never implemented, as Turkish nationalists like to point out whenever the topic arises. Instead, the Lausanne Peace Conference replaced Sèvres in 1923. Mustafa Kemal’s nationalist forces successfully defeated the invading Western armies during the Turkish War of Independence (1919–1922) and rejected the prior agreement as invalid in the face of Turkey’s victory. The Turkish military’s triumph in combination with the Allied forces’ reluctance to further engage with Mustafa Kemal’s nationalist forces nullified the earlier treaty in favor of the Lausanne Conference. This outcome contributed to the formation of several nationstates: Turkey, Iraq, and later Syria. The Kurdish tribal regions and its populations, as well as other minority communities were simply subsumed into the newly formed regional nation-states. Ever since the implementation of the Lausanne treaty, Kurdish intellectuals and activists have expressed varying degrees of anger, resentment, and hostility regarding the Turkish state’s refusal to officially recognize Kurds as a separate people. The Republic of Turkey was established in 1923 and in under a year the use of the Kurdish language was officially forbidden—a first indicator of forced assimilation policies to come. In practical terms, the language issue created tremendous problems for rural Kurds as only a small percentage, estimated to have been less than 5 percent, spoke or understood Turkish. This linguistic disadvantage made communication between the central state and the peripheral Kurdish communities extremely difficult. Access to education without prior knowledge of Turkish was practically impossible, which contributed to a growing sense of exclusion among the Kurdish populations. The relationship between the state and the minority group further deteriorated as Turkish soldiers brazenly

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demanded food and general supplies, and appropriated livestock from local communities without proper compensation.6 Although Mustafa Kemal initially pursued a successful policy of cooptation within the Kurdish tribal areas of Turkey, any collaborative inroads between central forces and the periphery soon became impasses as a consequence of numerous regional uprisings. Immediately after 1919, the majority of Kurdish leaders supported Turkish national resistance against the invading Greeks and Armenians for several reasons. A number of Kurdish chiefs feared reprisals from Armenian nationalists because some Kurdish tribes had participated in the Armenian massacres during 1894–1896 and the Armenian genocide during 1915–1918. Sunni Kurds, who made up irregular regiments known as the Hamidiye Light Cavalry Regiments and later referred to as the Tribal Regiments, had particularly targeted Christian communities.7 Kurdish villagers hoped to retain formerly Armenian-held lands and properties if they collaborated with Mustafa Kemal’s nationalist forces; and tribal chiefs claimed that Armenian and Assyrian areas actually had been Kurdish lands all along.8 Finally, the majority of Kurds supported the protection of Muslim lands against an incursion of Christian forces. In exchange for their loyal service, Mustafa Kemal granted several Kurdish leaders special rights and privileges including appointments to the Grand National Assembly. But this mutually beneficial arrangement did not last as Kurdish tribal forces encountered the tide of Turkish nationalism. It is important to recognize that initial Kurdish support for the Turkish Republic had not been unified. Regional uprisings, including the 1925 Sheikh Said revolt, encouraged the Turkish government to emphasize state control over Kurdish areas. In essence, the new government perceived the prior modus operandi in the Kurdish regions as an unnecessary expense and ultimately antithetical to the Kemalist national objectives. This shift toward a new political direction created an entirely different set of conditions on the ground. Kurdish groups who had perpetrated violence against neighboring communities a decade earlier suddenly became victims of repression themselves after the establishment of the Turkish state. Mustafa Kemal introduced draconian measures to restrict and then entirely eliminate Kurdish regional controls. To achieve its goals the Turkish state implemented the Maintenance of Order Law, which aimed to break tribal resistance to centralized modernization efforts. This martial law repressed potentially subversive activities in the Kurdish regions, ranging from unapproved gatherings to the formation of religious brotherhoods like the Nakşibendi and Kadiri Sufi orders. In addition, the publication of Kurdish literature and informational or political pamphlets was no longer permitted.9 A state tribunal carried out death sentences in the aftermath of the 1925 Sheikh Said revolt, closed dervish lodges as “centers for political plotting,” and signaled the emergence of a fiercely authoritarian rule by dismantling even legal opposition to state controls.10 Increasing numbers of Kurdish

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villages objected to the repressive rule that failed to provide the benefits once experienced under the patronage system. The state now forced Kurds to pay taxes and to provide young men for national conscription, but in contrast to the established tribal tradition of reciprocity, the Kurds were no longer granted any direct or tangible advantages in exchange. Traditional Kurdish services were obsolete. The central state stopped relying on tribal military units to carry out regional raids, ended the practice of using political patronage and subsidies to encourage tribal loyalty, and closed religious schools, which subsequently deprived the traditional religious authorities of their expected income and leverage.11 The Turkish government effectively disrupted, weakened, and ultimately undermined tribal culture. This included the repression of religious networks to prevent the rise of a pan-tribal or pan-Islamic oppositional force. Historian David McDowall suggested that Mustafa Kemal had actually considered a special arrangement for Kurds in early January 1923. But by February of that same year Mustafa Kemal had started to expunge all references to the Kurdish language and the Kurdish people from official documents.12 Soon after the establishment of the central state, Turkish became the only permitted language in the court system and all official communications between representatives of the state and its citizens had to take place in Turkish. Kemal embraced the prevailing views among nineteenth century European liberals that for a modern nation-state to thrive, minority groups had to be assimilated into the nationalist framework. If minorities failed to comply, it was justified and necessary to use brute force to subdue them. Drafted Kurdish soldiers complained bitterly about the increasingly abusive treatment they suffered at the hands of Turkish officers, from being assigned the least desirable duties to corporal punishment. By 1934, the Turkish state introduced new punitive laws to suppress the defiant Kurdish populations in the region of Dersim, first with deportation and disarmament, and then massacres. When Alevi cleric Seyit Riza resisted, and appealed for British intervention, no such support materialized and the Turkish military used artillery and aerial bombings to crush the resistance.13 Seyit Riza, his sons, and his leading lieutenants were publicly hung, marking the end of a series of uprisings against the Kemalist state in Dersim. Following the defeat of the rebels, the Turkish state encouraged the relocation of Kosovar Albanians and Assyrians into the region to reshape the ethnic composition of the population. Kendal Nezan, President of the Kurdish Institute in Paris, summarized Kurdish life after 1938 by explaining: there were no more major armed uprisings in Kurdistan. The massacres, the mass deportations, the militarization and the systematic surveillance of the Kurdish territories had all but an undeniably intimidating effect on the population. Revolt ceased to be a credible avenue toward liberation.14

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Victimized, disoriented, and vulnerable, deported Kurdish families barely managed to eke out a living between 1938 and the end of World War II, and just focused on staying out of harm’s way.

HISTORICAL SKELETONS Turkish historians tended to frame the experiences of the late Ottoman Empire as traumatic since large swaths of its European territories were lost during the First Balkan War (1912–1913). These territorial losses, followed by European attempts to dismember the remaining empire, left lasting and still unaddressed national scars. Turkey’s history is marked by periods of profound national shame and extraordinary glory as a consequence of its transformation from an empire to a modern state. But unlike Germany and, to a more limited extent, Japan, Turkey has not initiated a national process to incorporate a more balanced assessment of its own historic role and experiences. As Turkish historians accurately assert, it is remarkable that the modern Turkish state survived. But the confusing and often contradictory historical accounts of territorial dismemberment, defeat, and victorious re-emergence seem to have perpetuated a longstanding sense of ambivalence related to alternative interpretations of the national Turkish identity. A convoluted history has emerged that emphasizes Mustafa Kemal’s military successes, yet reduces interest in Enver Pasha’s horrific leadership that caused the loss of the country’s Third Army in December 1914 at Sarikamiş. Modern Turkey has not yet honestly assessed the role of Talaat Pasha, who as the Minister of the Interior oversaw the deportation of Armenians ending in at least 600,000 and perhaps up to 1.5 million Armenian deaths. Turkey also needs to reflect on the treatment of its Muslim minority communities. Turkey’s governing and managing elites—a term that includes the country’s secular parties, and its judiciary, military, and bureaucratic leadership— support a strong educational focus on the Ottoman Empire’s tremendous vulnerabilities at a time when conspiratorial forces aimed to divide the empire. A tendency to emphasize this period of victimization along with the country’s experience of liberation has reduced the intellectual capital the Turkish state spends on examining sub-contexts or sub-histories during this time frame. Over decades, the portrayal of Turkey’s struggle for survival has created problematic parameters for many researchers. Interactions and exchanges between and within minority communities are relegated to a position of lesser importance within the larger historical context. The dominant message has been to glorify the period of national liberation, while its critics tend to be characterized as marginal, hostile, and inconsequential within Turkey.15 Alternative interpretations of Turkish history are devalued; particularly those that challenge the state’s officially authorized historiography, which

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are perceived as causing harm to the ideal of national unity. In such a sociocultural context the simple act of expressing different and unapproved views appears to challenge the official sense of order. A public discussion of the role of ethnicity in Turkey would automatically involve a judicious reassessment of the state’s ideology and raise the concern that Kemalism failed to incorporate and appropriately represent all members of Turkish society. Socio-political issues surrounding ethnicity have become significant points of contention. By acknowledging a public debate over ethnicity, the state eventually would have to embrace a review of past policies. But a review would involve an examination of periods of repression during and after the formation of the Turkish state and expose its subsequent treatment of Muslim and Christian minority groups. It is important to recognize that few countries voluntarily incorporate minority perspectives into their official histories, but over time liberal democracies initiate such often-painful processes. A recent high profile example was Australia’s decision to acknowledge the nation’s horrendous treatment of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders. In 2008 Prime Minister Kevin Rudd stated: “the nation is demanding of its political leadership to take us forward. Decency, human decency, universal human decency, demands that the nation now step forward to right an historical wrong.”16 In Turkey comparable acknowledgements have been missing with regard to numerous minority communities, although the government reluctantly recognizes that efforts to collect information for public dissemination are underway. Recently, scholars at private universities have begun to offer workshops related to the recording and publishing of previously ignored oral histories from the southeast. Among them is Leyla Neyzi from Sabancı University, who has pursued an innovative approach to collecting oral accounts of personal and family histories. Her intention has been to identify divergent and alternative memories as the country is undergoing a process of fundamental change. Neyzi has described the results of examining different family stories as “historical skeletons that are spilling out of the closet.”17 As many politically engaged Kurds have learned, the act of telling a counter-narrative can quickly become classified as support for terrorism. The state’s administrative bureaucracy often perceives alternative accounts of historical events as dangerous challenges to its prerogative of controlling the nation’s past. To question the validity of the official understanding of history often turns out to be a treacherous occupation for scholars, novelists, and political activists alike. Some face angry mobs of protesters while others fear violent outbursts against them for articulating a different view. Yet increasing numbers of scholars and activists pursue an excavation of Turkish history, hoping to learn more about their own families’ narratives by placing them into a more complex historical context. The socio-cultural impact of Kemalism on diverse communities has prompted greater awareness that a variety of ideological perspectives have

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coexisted. This is also the case for Kurdish communities. Despite clear disagreements among Kurds about how to improve their status as an ethnic community in Turkey, one perspective unites nearly all Kurds. Both in Turkey and in the diaspora, Kurds tend to interpret Kemalism as oppositional to Kurdish accounts of history and interests. This perspective is quite different from the understanding articulated by mainstream Turkish society, including by representatives in the media and in political circles. In contrast to Turkish accounts, a majority of Kurds reject the notion that Atatürk liberated Eastern Anatolia from a backward culture, and that Kurdish communities were freed from tribal or religious constraints. Instead, Kurdish oral history relays a radically different version of events that focuses on Kemalist measures of repression and control. Kurds regularly question the strongly held beliefs among Turks that Atatürk’s victory over the invading Western forces restored a sense of national dignity and self-respect to the nation. Instead, some Kurdish communities narrate accounts of Kurdish suffering intertwined with Armenian pain during periods of extreme violence. Both communities share memories of the destruction of villages, followed by murder, rape, expulsion, and forced resettlements. Only a select group of Turkish researchers, including historian Taner Akçam, Chair of Armenian Genocide Studies at Clark University, have examined the subtext of violence that scarred the relationships between Turkish, Armenian, Kurdish, and Alevi communities. Akçam eloquently framed the underlying questions related to multiple versions of history by challenging state-authorized explanations of events. He proposed that a process of democratization would encourage reflection and even openness to divergent accounts of history since: there has always been another narrative of the past, an oral tradition at odds with the official state historiography. This is especially true in eastern Anatolia where the events occurred, and among the Kurdish and Alawite minorities. The two narratives have coexisted, side by side, for as long as Turkish society—fatalistic and reticent—avoided challenging the state version of history. But with the rise of the democratic movement in Turkey, fuelled by the country’s bid to enter the European Union, the contradiction between state and society has been forced into the open, and one by one the taboos are being confronted and torn down.18

Kurdish and Alevi counter-narratives are openly articulated in Europe, where it is less controversial to describe families as having been targeted for expulsion and expropriation during the final years of the Ottoman Empire and throughout the 1920s and 1930s. Often, Kurds reference the Koçgiri rebellion, supported by Kurdish Alevis from 1919 to 1921, to contextualize their families’ traumatic experiences with the repressive Kemalist regime. That revolt failed and was brutally subdued by state forces. After

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another rebellion in 1925, Sheikh Said’s execution in Diyarbakir marked the end of a large scale uprising by Zazaki-speaking Kurds. Some 15,000– 20,000 Kurds may have been killed in the aftermath of this particular rebellion.19 Kurdish oral history of the early republican period culminates in massacres that took place in the province of Dersim between 1937 and 1938.20 Turkish troops subjugated villagers with artillery shelling and air bombardments, herded people into buildings and set them on fire, and may have used poison gas against civilians. Eyewitness accounts describe how soldiers carried out massacres before systematically depopulating towns and villages.21 While the number of victims is disputed, Kurdish diaspora activists and scholars insist that some 65,000–70,000 people were murdered in the final years of the Dersim massacres alone.22

HARD QUESTIONS Kurdish public intellectual and writer Haydar Işik, born in Dersim in 1937 and since 1974 a resident in Germany, is one of the leading and most outspoken diaspora scholars of these massacres. In a prominent German political magazine, Der Spiegel, Işik stated: “had I not come to Germany in the 70s, the Turks would have murdered or incarcerated me because of my work. I saw friends die.”23 The Turkish government confiscated his family’s properties and revoked his citizenship after the 1980 military coup, and Işik accepted German citizenship in 1984. Living in Munich, he continued to release statements and position papers which now appear on Kurdish Web pages, and actively participated in political events organized by diaspora groups. Over the past decade Işik published several novels highly critical of Turkey. Turkish officials considered the books too controversial because they directly addressed the events and consequences of the Dersim massacres he lived through in the 1930s. Işik’s novels have been printed in Turkish and translated into English, German, and Kurdish, but are difficult to find in Turkey since the government banned the books just weeks after publication. Among them are Der Ağha aus Dersim (The Lord of Dersim) and Die Vernichtung von Dersim (The Destruction of Dersim), which have been available since the mid-1990s in Germany. In 2007 the Turkish government issued an arrest warrant against the now elderly Kurdish writer for membership in the PKK. Turkish Interpol followed up by issuing further warrants in 2008 accusing Işik of supporting and funding terrorism. The information supplied by Turkish Interpol focused on Işik‘s participation in the Kurdish Parliament in Exile (KPE), located in Brussels, Belgium. Ankara classified Işik’s participation in the KPE as hard evidence of a direct linkage between the writer and the PKK’s propaganda and fundraising machines in Europe.

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Holding the Turkish state responsible for having carried out an orchestrated campaign of killings in Dersim and challenging the state’s approved version of events continues to be problematic for writers and activists like Işik. Some 70 years after the massacres took place, few first-hand accounts from the region of Dersim have been made public in Turkey, and only a limited amount of information has been published internationally. This is not surprising, since the region of Dersim remained under complete Turkish military occupation until 1950 to ensure the pacification of Kurdish tribes. In that sense the state succeeded in its goal of eliminating the tribal opposition because no more resistance could be fomented for decades. The military’s presence in Dersim prolonged state repression and reduced international access to eyewitness information and official records. But in recent years, Armenian, Assyrian, and Alevi Kurdish diaspora organizations have increased their collaboration to pursue a more aggressive approach to the collection of oral history accounts.24 Today only a small number of people are living who can share memories based on their personal experiences as children in Dersim. Some accounts have been collected in Turkey because of Leyla Neyzi’s efforts to preserve life narratives through the recording of family stories, as in the example of an account shared by a young woman named Gülümser Kalik.25 She speaks of her grandmother’s experiences in Dersim and describes how societal intolerance and bias continues to impact her own life many decades after the massacres. It is not surprising to learn that the repercussions of genocides and repression weaken the social fabric of families and entire societies, similar to the compelling histories shared by Native Americans and African-Americans in the United States, and descendants of Holocaust survivors. Efforts to collect and share oral history accounts have created a limited awareness of the experiences of “other” communities in Turkey, particularly among highly educated members of society. But in Europe and the United States most accounts that address the suffering of Kurdish communities, especially those linked to the experience of genocide, are raised in relation to Saddam Hussein’s poison gas attacks against Kurdish villages during the 1980s. A case in point is the 2008 CNN special report produced by Christian Amanpour “Scream Bloody Murder,” which included a short segment on Saddam Hussein’s Al-Anfal (The Spoils of War) attacks against Kurdish communities and an obligatory brief mention of the Armenian genocide.26 In contrast to the more recognizable references to Al-Anfal, or Saddam Hussein’s cousin “Chemical Ali” who was sentenced to death for having carried out a number of massacres of Kurds and Shiites in Iraq, the name Dersim (Silver Door) means practically nothing to audiences outside of Turkey. This lack of familiarity with Kurdish experiences in Turkey stands in stark contrast to the general awareness among European Christian

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communities that Armenians had been massacred during the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire. Part of the underlying reason for this difference in public knowledge may be that the media paid less attention when Muslim communities became targets for elimination, and when tribal peoples or indigenous communities were massacred. In that context, both the German colonial slaughter of Herero tribes (1904–1907) and El Salvador’s La Matanza (The Slaughter, 1932) of indigenous peasants are pertinent historical examples of horrific events that have practically been pushed out of memory. Both cases gained attention in recent decades because scholars examined the history of genocides and ethnocides, the latter a term used to emphasize the cultural destruction of a people. Another reason for the lack of familiarity with events in Dersim most certainly relates to the politics of re-naming specific locations. During the mid1930s the Turkish government assigned a new name to Dersim, re-naming it Tunceli as a way to assert control and weaken memory. In a 1911 account by Captain Molyneux-Seel, he described Dersim as a place “marked by woods of very fine walnut and mulberry trees, which afford the most perfect shade that a tired traveler could desire. Almost everywhere in Dersim, water is abundant.”27 Molyneux-Seel depicted other areas of Kurdistan as rugged mountain territory, bare and parched, while Dersim stood out like “an oasis—green, fresh, and full of grateful shade.”28 But by the mid-1930s the region started to look very different. Villages were destroyed and depopulated, woods had been cut down, and the area became known by its new Turkish name—Tunceli, or Bronze Hand. Kurdish oral history suggests that the name of the region had been changed in an effort to erase tribal memory and to sanitize the conduct of the state. The overall approach of the Turkish state had been to emphasize the modernization of a “backward and tribal people.” Turkish officials pursued a regional strategy that focused on abolishing feudal structures, tribal law, and reactionary religious elements. By enforcing a nationalist ideology, the state emphasized the assimilation of Kurds into Turkish society. Turkey’s elites actively embarked on a policy that expunged all cultural identifiers perceived as undermining Kemalist ideals of nationhood including language, dress, music, religious practices, and communal traditions. For Alevi Kurds the name Dersim continues to symbolize the most profoundly disturbing historical experiences with displacement and extermination policies. Kurdish diaspora organizations in Europe are just beginning to sponsor information campaigns and research about the suffering of Alevi Kurds. This contrasts with long-standing Armenian efforts to raise international awareness about the genocide that targeted their communities during the final decades of the Ottoman Empire. In that context, it is not surprising that the Turkish government regularly and officially protests activities by diaspora organizations that publicize information about extermination policies in Dersim. When a host of socialist Kurdish, Armenian,

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Assyrian, and Turkish activists convened an international conference at the European Parliament in Brussels in the fall of 2008, the Turkish government bristled. The event became highly politicized as participants discussed the experiences of ethnic and religious minorities in Turkey after the final years of the Ottoman Empire. The Turkish government immediately objected to the event being held at a venue that also serves official EU functions. Following the conference proceedings, multiple activist organizations supported the release of a joint statement. In the statement, the organizations accused the Ottoman Empire and modern Turkey of having “artificially reshaped the land’s multy-ethnic [sic] identity by reducing the dominated people into slavery, by denying their identity, and then by promoting the doctrine of the Turkish ‘race’ as the ‘essential being.’ ”29 The joint declaration created a stir once it was released to various Web sites because sympathetic bloggers picked up on language that encouraged them to compare Turkey’s ideology to “fascist-like thinking,” which “has led the authorities [to] perpetrate abominable mass murders.” The declaration proceeded to list massacres the Turkish state stood accused of having carried out against both Muslim and Christian minority groups throughout the twentieth century. This list culminated in the final accusation that Turkey engaged in a “war against the Kurds since 1984.” Numerous diaspora organizations signed the declaration, thereby rearticulating a familiar counter-position within ethnic minority communities that opposed the authorized Kemalist version of historical events. Diaspora groups suggested: that since its creation, the Kemalist republic targets and represses all political opponents to the regime, whatever their ethnic origin, including Turkish democrats. Lastly, the ultranationalist and genocide denial policies of Ankara utilize the Turkish immigrants in the European countries and with the complicity of certain local European political leaders incite them to hatred towards the Armenian, Assyrian and Kurdish communities. . . .30

In response to these accusations, Turkish journalists and editors of both mainstream and nationalist newspapers discussed the events in op-ed pieces. The vast majority dismissed the conference content and its participants as socialist-inspired and anti-Turkish in ideological orientation. Some journalists commented that it would be best to frame the conference as having been sponsored by members of the international community who conspired to damage Turkey’s reputation in Europe. It must be recognized that Kurdish activists and intellectuals use a variety of mechanisms to challenge Turkey’s official versions of history. Not everyone raises the memory of particular massacres to advance a political agenda. Often intellectuals and writers such as Haydar Işik, Ismet Elci, and Nobel Prize in Literature candidate Yaşar Kemal broadly criticize the ideological

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rationale for implementing repressive and assimilationist policies. Instead of pointing to specific historical events, they focus on social contexts and policies that have been implemented by the state to weaken and eventually destroy regional Kurdish bonds based on cultural and religious identities. To forge a unitary national state, the Turkish Republic chose to deny individuals and groups the right to express alternate or distinct identities. Both Kemal Atatürk and Ismet Inönü, who served several terms as prime minister and later became the second president of the Turkish Republic (1938–1950), expressed increasingly unsympathetic views toward rebellious minorities. Inönü summarized Turkey’s perspective toward ethnic issues in the following manner: “Only the Turkish nation is entitled to claim ethnic and national rights in this country. No other element has any right.”31 It is not surprising that Inönü’s understanding of this prerogative to define the composition of the Turkish nation has run into criticism over time. In Multicultural Odysseys political philosopher Will Kymlicka proposed that group rights are necessary to advance the cause of justice in a liberal society.32 Defining group rights as particular rights that are claimed by a minority to reduce economic and political vulnerabilities in larger society, Kymlycka included minority language education, guarantees for political representation, support for ethnic media, and compensation for historical injustice into his analysis. Despite growing demands for group rights by minority communities, the topic continues to be highly controversial in Turkish public policy debates.33

TOWARD RECONCILIATION Nearly a full century after the Armenian genocide and 70 years after the Dersim massacres, Kurds are beginning to speak of these troubling events again. Following the 2008 online apology issued by Turkish intellectuals for the “Great Disaster,” a code term for the Armenian genocide, Ahmed Türk, the ethnic Kurdish leader of the now banned Democratic Society Party (DTP), issued his own version of an acknowledgement. His statement discussed Kurdish tribal involvement in the killings of Armenians and Assyrians. Türk’s grandfather, Hüseyin Kanco of Mardin, led one of the infamous Hamidiye regiments according to Assyrian diaspora organizations. In light of this information, Armenian and Assyrian groups initially welcomed Türk’s remarks as an indication that a growing segment of Turkish society, including Kurds, may be willing to re-examine the state’s most controversial historical chapters. However, some Armenian and Assyrian organizations lamented the fact that Türk’s acknowledgment continued to lack an element of what they called “differentiation” between their own communities’ suffering in comparison with the violence experienced by the Kurdish populations. Türk’s remarks, Assyrians and Armenians

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suggested, were an attempt to equalize the suffering of the Kurds with the suffering of Christian communities during the same historical period, which they considered unacceptable. These sorts of disputes are not unusual in countries where horrific acts have been committed against minority communities or civilian populations. In Germany a difficult debate arose following the 2002 publication of a controversial book entitled Der Brand (The Fire) by German historian Jörg Friedrich.34 At the center of the heated public debate was the author’s interpretation of the 1945 Allied decision to pursue massive incendiary bombing campaigns against German cities and its civilian populations. In short, Friedrich framed the strategy as barbaric and unnecessary to defeat the Nazi regime, suggesting that it was a war crime, or even a crime against humanity. Formerly classified as a left-leaning, anti-war author, the debate suddenly branded Friedrich as a nationalist “revisionist historian.” The predominant question that emerged in scholarly as well as public dialogues was how German historians should address civilian suffering in the larger context of Germany’s crimes against humanity. Would it be appropriate to speak of the suffering of German civilians in light of the horrific acts committed by the Third Reich? Was the intention of this book to equalize the suffering of German civilians with the suffering of those victimized by the Nazi regime? Both the German and the Turkish examples illustrate that it is painfully controversial to raise sub-contexts or alternative interpretations of history when the basic parameters have not been socially, culturally, and ideologically negotiated. From an outsider’s perspective, it seems reasonable that Ahmed Türk’s public acknowledgement of Kurdish participation in the massacres of Armenians and Assyrians could be perceived as an initial step toward reconciliation, or as part of a constructive discourse. Yet, the actual wording of Türk’s acknowledgement presents an obvious dilemma. He neither fully acknowledged responsibility nor apologized for Kurdish complicity in the genocide in his role as a political leader of an ethnic Kurdish party. It is reasonable to suggest that victims of genocide and their descendants have the right to accept or reject the wording of such an acknowledgement or apology. The difficulty lies with selecting language that is inclusive of communities that consisted of both perpetrators and victims of violence. DTP leader Türk pointed out that Kurds were victimized through manipulative means and the larger political and economic circumstances at the time. From his perspective, Kurds should be seen as people influenced by a more powerful state that played one vulnerable minority community against another. As this example clearly demonstrates, the process of excavating histories remains a painful and lengthy exercise. For Turkey’s minority communities, it is a daunting task to sort out the many complex layers of interactions between the groups. Some Armenians and Assyrians assume that Ahmed Türk speaks for all Kurds, or that Kurds are not willing to fully disclose their own families’

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brutal historical conduct toward Christian communities. It seems reasonable to assume that Türk may have heard awful stories about Kurdish participation in the genocide from his grandfather, his father, or through Kurdish oral history. Recent journalistic accounts indicate a deeper awareness among at least some Kurdish intellectuals that Kurds committed horrific crimes prior to the establishment of the modern Turkish Republic. Foreign correspondent Stephen Kinzer, for example, quoted a Kurdish intellectual who stated that Our grandfathers were the ones who did the killing. They told us everything. My grandfather said that soldiers gave him a coin for every head of an Armenian that he brought to the command post. He told me that there were bodies along the roadside everywhere you went. Kurds were promised that if they could get rid of the Armenians, they could have this land for themselves. In the end it didn’t work out that way, but at that time our grandfathers were happy to help with the killing. Don’t ever believe that this never happened, or that it was just a minor thing, or that both sides suffered equally. It did happen. Turks and Kurds did it, and the Armenians were the victims.35

Discrepancies between private acknowledgements of guilt and politicized remarks that are uttered by partisan organizations have created the impression that the Kurdish political leadership refuses to be honest and transparent about the genocide. Türk’s tendency to weigh the Armenian/Assyrian genocide against the suffering of the Kurds reflects the party’s ideological positioning. As a party leader he aimed to satisfy expectations of political allies. Such motivations are cruel, but are part of the uncompromising reality of Turkish politics today. In general, the “Kurdish interpretation” of the genocide, unlike Türk’s political maneuvering, “does not attempt to deflect blame from the Kurds for the violence of 1915.”36 Historians have extensively documented Kurdish participation in Armenian massacres, and there is no doubt about the extreme levels of violence perpetrated by some Kurds. Still, it is important to remember that not all of Kurdish society participated in the massacres. In fact, Christian and Muslim communities got along quite peacefully in many areas of the Ottoman Empire until economic conditions changed, initiating agrarian competition for survival that created ethnic and religious hostilities.37

SEEDS OF DISSENT Diaspora Kurds regularly contend that the rise of the PKK paralleled the increasing sense of humiliation Kurdish communities experienced in Turkey. Without significant job prospects or landholdings, and little knowledge of technological advancements, growing segments of the Kurdish population felt relegated to a position of servitude by the late 1970s. Historian David

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McDowall argued that the inner circle of the PKK was “filled with anger at the exploitation of both the rural and urban proletariat at the hand of aghas [landlords with vast holdings], merchants and the ruling establishment.”38 Enraged by the desperate conditions of the Kurdish population, the PKK’s leadership championed leftist revolutionary ideals. Sensing that circumstances were ripe for militant resistance to the state, the PKK rolled out its Marxist-Leninist political and military strategy between 1978 and 1984. Initially the PKK’s leadership supported a traditional ideology of national liberation. The group’s revolutionary plans relied on notions that had inspired radical youth movements during the 1960s and 1970s. But within a short period of time, the PKK realized that if it hoped to succeed the organization would have to broaden its appeal to attract more supporters in the countryside. The PKK superimposed a Kurdish ethno-nationalist ideology onto its leftist revolutionary framework. Demands for the recognition of Kurdish ethnic identity and the Kurdish language were integrated into pronouncements by the PKK. McDowall proposed that the PKK’s brand of nationalism seemed particularly virulent “because its founders sought to recreate an identity they felt they had lost.”39 The PKK’s revised strategy appealed more directly to rural Kurdish populations and eventually allowed guerrilla members to identify villages that were willing to provide the PKK with supplies and logistical information. Nearly 30 years after the PKK’s decision to pursue an ethno-national war of liberation against the Turkish government, diaspora Kurds continue to speak about their experiences in Turkey by referencing feelings of humiliation and hopelessness. Many consider these sentiments primary factors for Kurdish resistance. In 2008 a Kurdish teenager interviewed in Germany stated that his cousins in Turkey faced limited personal and career choices. “My relatives can leave the Kurdish areas and pretend to be Turkish, or they can try to go abroad for work.” He paused, then threw his hands up in the air and added, “Or they can join the PKK.”40 Such disheartened views are regularly shared among politicized diaspora Kurds, evidencing the common perspective among teenagers and young adults in the diaspora. Often, the remarks are accompanied by accounts of experiences of discrimination and intimidation. Ayce Aktürk, for instance, a member of Australia’s Kurdish diaspora community, expressed similar perceptions when she explained: “the Kurdish people were deliberately kept poor and backward. The government limited services to Kurdish villages so that people could not become strong in demanding their rights. There were no jobs or proper roads, electricity, schools or hospitals.”41 In descriptions of her own experiences in the southeastern provinces of Turkey, Aktürk related that Turkish people labeled her and her family members as “uneducated,” “worthless,” and “sub-human.” Feeling marginalized and excluded by the dominant sectors of society, she expressed anger and resentment toward the Turkish state and the Turkish population.

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While Aktürk articulated her perspectives and insights from abroad, her observations also seemed typical of discouraged Kurds in Turkey. Many considered their futures to look bleak because they lacked access to start-up capital or adequate educational opportunities. Recent interviews researcher Will Day conducted with Kurds in Diyarbakir confirmed these sentiments. He identified lasting feelings of societal exclusion and anger among young Kurds, who described facing enormous hurdles in their personal socio-economic pursuits.42 For instance, Mehmet, a hard-working, entrepreneurial Kurdish teenager stated that his regional accent and ID card marked him as originating from the predominantly Kurdish areas. Mehmet felt that his birthplace identified him as a potential terror suspect when police units carried out security checks.43 In addition, Mehmet complained to Day that only poor-quality teachers looked for employment in the Kurdish provinces. Mehmet suspected that this situation left the population unprepared to take university entrance exams and only insufficiently trained them for job opportunities.44 Young Kurds like Mehmet, distressed about their lives, often shared personal experiences with other Kurds in the diaspora. They related information about bureaucratic discrimination and police intimidation and participated in networks to identify employment opportunities abroad. As a result of these cross-border connections, a large number of Kurdish families in Turkey benefited economically from transnational exchanges and connections through relatives or friends in Europe, Australia, and the United States. The flow of communication between Kurds in Turkey and their relatives and friends abroad also allowed activist members of the Kurdish diaspora to exert some political influence over policy debates. This is particularly the case when debates involved the treatment of the Kurdish minority in Turkey or surrounded discussions related to the creation of a Kurdish homeland. Exchanges of ideas between members of the Kurdish diaspora and Kurdish activists in Turkey have shaped how the Kurdish population understood what constituted a human rights violation or a pattern of bureaucratic discrimination. For example, Kurds in Turkey have long articulated their grievances about restrictions involving the use of the Kurdish language. After diaspora organizations proposed and modeled specific legal avenues to address these grievances, Kurdish activist groups in Turkey intensified their efforts to reverse language-based discrimination against Kurds. The Kurdish Human Rights Project (KHRP) in London has been a leader in this effort among Kurdish diaspora organizations. The KHRP focused on sharpening the tools available to Kurdish groups and cooperated extensively with human rights groups in Turkey, including an umbrella organization known as IHD or the Human Rights Association of Turkey. The cooperative relationship between KHRP, IHD and other human rights networks has irritated Turkish officials who believe that radical groups such as the PKK shape the underlying political orientation of some human rights

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organizations. But such assertions are exaggerated for political purposes in Turkey. What is evident, however, is that an increase in cooperation between Kurdish organizations in Turkey and in the diaspora from the 1990s into the new millennium intensified anger among Turkish nationalists. In a series of high-profile cases filed with the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), KHRP successfully pursued judgments against Turkey. As a human rights organization that used legal avenues to protect the Kurdish minority from patterns of violence and discrimination, KHRP educated lawyers and raised awareness among the minority population. In turn, Turkish nationalists accused Kurdish human rights groups in the diaspora of pursuing a hostile agenda in support of the establishment of an independent Kurdish state. But this assertion also lacked validity, especially because active assistance for the creation of a Kurdish state appeared to be waning among members of the diaspora. In conversations with diaspora Kurds in Germany, few expressed strong support for the establishment of an independent Kurdish state, and instead articulated a passionate commitment to the idea of a cultural Kurdish space. Diaspora Kurds strongly supported improved socio-cultural rights for Kurds in Turkey, but rarely appeared to envision themselves as leaving Europe to become actual citizens in a Kurdish homeland. A young Kurdish-German woman by the name of Aryana stated that she herself had never even been to Turkey’s Kurdish provinces, but that she felt a strong affiliation with “the place of her heritage.”45 She suggested that “in my heart I’m Kurdish,” even though she had lived most of her life in Germany. Aryana expressed a view commonly held among second and third generation ethnic Kurds in Germany. Some pointed out that it seemed insufficient for the Turkish government to recognize Kurdish socio-cultural rights instead of granting full minority status. Diaspora Kurds tended to expect the Turkish state not only to implement but also fully guarantee equal cultural and political rights for Kurds in Turkey. But when diaspora communities articulated such positions or expectations, Turkish nationalists often expressed outrage. At times they insinuated that PKK terrorists planted seeds of dissent abroad to undermine the territorial integrity of the Turkish state.

WEAVING THE PAST INTO THE PRESENT Turkish nationalists like Inönü, Turkey’s second president, considered nationalist rhetoric necessary to prevent both domestic and international forces from destroying or weakening the modern Turkish state. Over time Turkish nationalists viewed their republic as vulnerable and even under grave threat. They believed that conspiratorial forces existed in Russia and in Greece, and that non-compliant religious and ethnic minorities

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threatened the nation from within. The official framing of historical events surrounding the formation of modern Turkey enhanced these threat perceptions and determined social parameters for acceptable political and cultural behaviors. Attempts to assert a competing identity, or even any support for a secondary religious, tribal, or ethnic claim based on a panIslamic or linguistic communal sense, were classified as hostile to the integrity of the nation. In fact, all articulations of identity other than authorized versions of Turkishness seemed to be a direct affront to the existence and future survival of the nation as a whole. Over time Turkish nationalists succeeded in limiting alternative declarations of identity inside the country, but diaspora groups have presented a constant challenge from abroad. Kurdish diaspora organizations often characterize supporters of Atatürk’s policies as blind admirers of a repressive regime, or as people who lack the courage to question the validity of assimilationist policies. To illustrate their positions, Kurds point out that in Turkey officials had asserted from the 1920s until the early 1990s that Kurds were simply “Mountain Turks” rather than a people belonging to a separate ethnic group with a separate culture and language. Even Kurds living in the diaspora have had to vigorously protest attempts by the Turkish state to curtail their ability to give children traditional Kurdish names. Until 2003 Turkish consular officers regularly provided European bureaucrats with lists of officially recognized Turkish names. This was done so that Turkish-passport carrying ethnic-Kurdish families could not register their newborn children with unapproved names while they lived abroad.46 Kurdish activists filed and won many lawsuits in Germany, Belgium, and with the European Court of Human Rights, seeking to obtain the legal right to name their children without Turkish governmental interference. Another example often mentioned by nationalist Kurds relates to the ever-present portraits and sculptures that depict Atatürk in public buildings and parks. Kurds argue that these portraits suggest an unwillingness to examine the restrictive nature of state policies. The portraits and sculptures are evidence, some Kurds propose, of the existence of a cult-like fascination with Atatürk. They believe that this pattern of public display of admiration and loyalty should be understood as enhancing an uncritical embrace of the state’s ideological foundations. Such sentiments are openly expressed by members of the exiled Turkish left in Europe and among representatives in the Kurdish diaspora. Since many dissidents escaped Turkish repression after the military coups in 1971 and 1980, these views are not entirely surprising. Interestingly, it is quite common to see portraits of Atatürk on the walls of Turkish-owned businesses in Europe. Yet, these portraits are less often displayed in the main reception areas where interactions with customers take place. Frequently, Atatürk portraits are located in back rooms that are used mostly by the owners and their employees to reduce the risk of alienating a diverse customer base.47 Instead, reception areas tend to be

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decorated with photos of famous places such as Topkapi Palace, the Hagia Sophia, or the Blue Mosque. But it is not only members of the diaspora who attempt to deal with an increase in nationalist sentiments. The chances of offending nationalist Turkish sensitivities increased in recent years as activist groups have begun to articulate hostile positions to increase their political relevance. Turkish filmmaker and journalist Can Dündar, a prominent member of Turkey’s secular elite, learned this lesson recently. When he presented his new Atatürk documentary “Mustafa” in October 2008, he revealed nothing unusual or new about Atatürk’s personal life. Still, he seemed to have provoked a maelstrom of criticism. Dündar depicted Atatürk as an authoritarian in his film, but also as a man with a talent for strategic and military planning. Yet his portrayal of Atatürk as a lonely person with a tendency to be isolated and moody and as a heavy smoker and drinker created a significant level of outrage among loyal admirers. To Kemalists the film critiqued Atatürk’s personal life by exposing him as imperfect, which contrasted with his exalted and heroic status in society. Virulent secularists perceived the film as just more evidence of a growing conspiracy. Vaguely defined enemies that represented either Islamic interests or hostile international forces were seen as having influenced the production. The filmmaker was perceived as aiming to delegitimize Atatürk and his legacy, and some ultra-nationalists even posited that the film engaged in a sly process of “de-Atatürk-ification” of the general public, suggesting that school children should not watch it.48 In contrast to the paranoid perspectives expressed by some nationalists, a different aspect of the documentary fascinated many viewers. The filmmaker offered modest insights into Atatürk’s reflections on granting Kurds a form of regional autonomy before he decided to pursue a strategy of suppression. For Kurds this is an issue of profound historical implication. Allied forces temporarily supported Kurdish tribes in their pursuit of a Kurdish homeland. But their support for Kurdish independence evaporated following Turkey’s war of independence in what Kurds often call “the betrayal of Sèvres.” To this day any reference to the initial promise of the treaty of Sèvres is a unifying rallying cry among Kurds. In addition, it plays into Marxist inspired views held by perhaps half of all diaspora Kurds in Europe, who believe that nation-states continue to pursue neo-imperialist ambitions to victimize Kurds.49 In a stark contrast to Kurdish perceptions, Sèvres stands for something entirely different to Turks, namely the fear of an international conspiracy that purposefully undermined the territorial integrity of the Turkish Republic. Conspiratorial interpretations and neurotic and fixated perceptions that persist among ultra-nationalists in Turkey are often called “Sèvres syndrome” or “Sèvres paranoia” by policy analysts.50 This sense of obsession with Sèvres is driven by the idea that European powers “left deep scars on the collective memory of Turks.”51 U.S. support for Kurdish empowerment in northern

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Iraq plays into this same sense of victimization, as some Turks believe that the United States pursues a conspiratorial foreign agenda aimed at undermining modern Turkey. So does any criticism of the treatment of Kurds by human rights groups, the act of calling Kurds an ethnic minority in Turkey, or suggesting that Kurds ought to be granted group rights. For both Kurds and Turks living in Western Europe the intensity of public exchanges over Dündar’s film in Turkey signaled political opportunities. Diaspora members hoped that this film would contribute to more honest and open discussions of historical events. But a series of interviews with Turkish-German citizens by the political magazine Der Spiegel demonstrated just how sensitive relations could be between Turkish and Kurdish diaspora communities. When the magazine featured a remark made by a Turkish-German law student that over-simplified the concept of Turkish multiculturalism, his comment provoked an angry reaction from politically engaged Kurds. In the interview, the 28-year old student discussed how he perceived Turkish culture, and conjured up an image of a slightly jumbled flowerbed. He then proceeded to describe a multicultural Turkish flowerbed that was full of roses and lavender, but also weeds. The reaction within the Kurdish community was disbelief about the lack of sensitivity expressed by this idea of a messy flowerbed that included weeds. One Kurdish university student commented: “it is absurd to hear that Turkish culture is compared to a flowerbed full of roses along with weeds. Weeds should be eradicated so they don’t spread and overtake the flower garden. Who are the weeds? Is this in reference to the Kurds?”52 It is unclear if the Turkish law student’s remark simply reflected a high level of naiveté, or whether it was intended to be demeaning and hostile, but Kurds did not waste any time criticizing the student’s lack of insight and understanding. While European civil society organizations often advocate for increased communication between diaspora Turks and Kurds, there seems to be little evidence that discussion or contact between the two groups automatically encourages cultural sensitivity. It is also unclear if dialogue among diaspora communities will have an impact on domestic Turkish policy approaches to the Kurdish conflict. Kurdish-American activist Kani Xulam, head of the Washington, DC American-Kurdish Information Network (AKIN) believes that the most effective way to have an impact on Turkish policy choices is to reach “the people of goodwill in America and abroad.”53 As an activist, he relies exclusively on the English language “to agitate” and aims to portray Turkey “as a pariah state, like, for example, [Apartheid] South Africa.” Xulam suggests that raising awareness in the United States is the best way to influence or even shape domestic Turkish policy debates. In that sense, he mirrors long-standing campaigns by Kurdish political activists in Europe who emphasize reaching out to allies in human rights organizations or policy circles to exert indirect pressure on consecutive Turkish governments. The Kurdish Human Rights Project in London, for

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instance, focuses on fact-finding missions and the dissemination of information to human rights groups. Xulam does not focus on activities that would encourage an “awakening” among Turks in Turkey or familiarize Turkish society with Kurdish socio-political realities. Instead, he hopes to educate U.S. audiences about Kurdish experiences with repression, torture, and extermination policies that “were carried out under Atatürk’s rule and have continued ever since.”54 Xulam often provokes angry responses by comparing aspects of the Kemalist ideology to Hitler’s concept of racial superiority during the 1930s and 1940s. In fact, there is an historical linkage between the two nationalist states: Turkish Ph.D. students studied under eugenics researchers and Nazi collaborators such as Eugen Fischer at Berlin University’s Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Anthropology, Human Genetics and Eugenics. These students significantly contributed to the integration of German racial theories into the Turkish nationalist ideology.55 Xulam and diaspora activists like him continue to support the establishment of an independent Kurdish state. He witnessed and experienced torture, intimidation, and repression first hand and within his own family. Turkish authorities cruelly tortured one of Xulam’s brothers and one of his sisters, which in part appears to drive his strong emphasis on the establishment of an independent Kurdistan—or a pan-Kurdish state. For Xulam the act of advocating for a Kurdish state is the only way to guarantee that Kurds will live free of bureaucratic harassment and mistreatment; that they will be able to speak, write, and broadcast in Kurdish languages; and that they will enjoy the necessary freedom to organize their own political parties. Mentioning his unease and inability to describe his sister’s torture by Turkish authorities, he explains that “the Kurdish culture like the other cultures in the region is very conservative, and I never got the courage to ask her what exactly they did to her. All I know is that she was not exempt from traumatic physical abuse.”56 His and his family’s account is not unique and hardly different from experiences shared by other members of the Kurdish diaspora. In the mid-1990s Xulam was accused by the Turkish state of acting on behalf of the political arm of the PKK and of promoting ideological positions that were espoused by the PKK. Most likely, the Turkish government pursued this strategy to disrupt Xulam’s effective congressional lobbying campaigns in Washington, DC that educated the public about human rights violations against Kurds in Turkey. Through his efforts, several arms shipments from the United States to Turkey were disrupted or cancelled. In addition, Xulam along with a small group of supporters held a 40-day hunger strike on the steps of Capitol Hill in 1997, which increased media attention on the imprisonment of Kurdish parliamentarian Leyla Zana. Although he withdrew from the fast after day 32 on the advice of his doctor, supporters carried out the hunger strike for another 8 days. While the protest activities reached officials in President Clinton’s cabinet, including then UN Ambassador Bill Richardson, Kurdish parliamentarian Leyla Zana ended up spending 10 years in

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prison. She had broken the law by speaking Kurdish in Turkey’s parliament and by expressing strong support for ethnic Kurdish political and cultural rights. In the intervening years, Xulam struggled to attain his asylum papers in the United States, finally receiving official notification on December 3, 2008 that he was granted the right to stay permanently in the country because of a “well-founded fear of persecution in Turkey.” Despite attempts to link him to the PKK guerrilla movement, the Turkish government failed to provide the necessary evidence that would have convinced the legal community in the United States that Xulam supported terrorism.57 Xulam’s outspoken criticism of Turkish policies and his activism on behalf of Kurdish interests on Capitol Hill was a lasting thorn in the side of Turkish officials. After receiving his asylum papers in 2008, he seemed relieved, saying that he has been “savoring this moment ever since.” Despite such small and often personal triumphs celebrated by diaspora Kurds, the act of criticizing Turkish policies, the military, and Atatürk, or voicing alternative interpretations of history remains a dangerous effort in Turkey. A controversial incident online demonstrates this quite well. Atatürk’s perhaps best known saying, “how fortunate is he who can call himself a Turk,” has provoked lengthy and heated debates among members of Turkish and Kurdish diaspora communities. When this particular phrase was linked to a video on YouTube of Atatürk, the number of Web visitors increased significantly. Interested viewers found Atatürk’s face decorated with pink lipstick and purple eye shadow. Ultra-nationalists and loyal Kemalists took the bait and expressed outrage about the cyber attack on the national hero. To their horror, Kemalists found other videos that made Atatürk sing and dance. The Turkish government, calling the videos a “national insult,” closed down access to the entire Web site. The intervention was retroactively authorized by the Turkish courts to ensure that Turkish citizens could not view the offending images and videos. The presiding judges explained their ruling by suggesting that the Web site content was profoundly offensive to the Turkish public. Responding to the government’s paternalistic cyber intervention, the Turkish daily paper Vatan modified Atatürk’s famous saying into a derisive version that roughly translated to “how fortunate is he who can say that YouTube is forbidden.” Cyber attacks appear to be on the rise pitting Turkish nationalists, leftleaning Turks, Islamists, and ethno-national Kurds against each other. Yet the Turkish government’s efforts to control and manage Internet postings including videos like the ones uploaded to YouTube demonstrate that Ankara has failed to develop an effective policy response. As Nobel Prize winning novelist Orhan Pamuk asserted in his address at the 2008 Frankfurt Book Fair, curtailing access to information on the Internet is antidemocratic. The Turkish government’s reaction confirms that protest activities increasingly emphasize the use of Web sites and blogs by sharing

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information, news, videos, and opinions. The idea, of course, is to reach as many interested parties as possible before the government censors a site. In this game of creating and locating a cyber address beyond the controls of officials, hackers feel encouraged to seek out ways to ridicule the monitoring efforts by officials. Turkey’s overly broad and authoritarian response to the YouTube video controversy further highlighted the government’s failure to properly address the underlying ideological and socio-cultural concerns in the country. Civically engaged members of society envision their country as one that addresses historical wrongs and integrates a broader notion of minority rights. Such a state would have to demonstrate its commitment to democracy by accepting and embracing unauthorized voices into the national accounts of history and reduce the state’s control over the media. For many Turkish and Kurdish political activists, the term Kurdistan is not only a call for Kurdish political, social, and cultural rights but also a demand for concrete measures in support of authentic democratization for all members of Turkish society.

5 R

The PKK and Armed Struggle

TRIBAL STRUCTURES In many ways, the relationship between the Ottomans and the Kurds before and during World War I can be compared with the nearly impenetrable arrangements along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border regions today, known as the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA). The central government in Islamabad, Pakistan, lacks full control over the tribal areas, and relies on allied tribal structures to maintain its own interests along the border with Afghanistan. Tribal leaders stay in contact with representatives of the Pakistani state, most often with segments of the state’s Inter-ServicesIntelligence (ISI) apparatus, rather than with the frequently changing political leadership. Tribal militias substitute for the state’s reduced power on the outer perimeter of Pakistan by monitoring, curtailing, or enhancing the movement of people and the transfer of weapons or other supplies across these territories. At the same time, militia members take a percentage of each transaction to strengthen their own positions of influence, and build relationships across the border into Afghanistan. This arrangement pays for supplies and weapons that tribal fighters require, and simultaneously maintains the meager economic viability of their home villages and towns.1 The U.S. government considers the intractable areas of FATA extremely dangerous to its own regional and global security interests, and describes these border territories most often as lawless. Fundamentalist warlords, who apply their own version of tribal law, control FATA. The most direct concern for U.S. troops is the presence of jihadi fighters, including al-Qaeda affiliates, who have found supportive networks in this region of Pakistan. But in

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February 2010, a collaborative approach between ISI and tribal structures yielded huge results, as U.S. government officials announced the capture of Mullah Abdul Ghani Baradar, the most significant Taliban leader taken into custody since the start of the war in 2002. Pakistani and U.S. intelligence forces have worked together in the region, but it was the recent initiative of the ISI to cooperate with tribal forces that led to Baradar’s capture in Karachi. Turkish military leaders categorize Kurdish areas that straddle the border regions between Iraq, Iran, Syria, and Turkey in a similar manner. Crossborder Kurdish areas present serious challenges to Turkey because of the ensconced nature of ethnic networks, the presence of guerrilla forces, and the activities of transnational criminal organizations. In contrast to FATA, the threat of facing Islamist fundamentalist militias is less of a concern in the predominantly Kurdish areas, although several tiny but extremely violent Islamist groups have presented dangers in the recent past. Two Kurdish nationalist Sunni jihadist organizations carried out multiple attacks in northern Iraq between 2003 and 2007. Only a few hundred followers supported Ansar al-Islam (Partisans of Islam) and Ansar al-Sunnah (Followers of Sunnah) in Iraq, but these Salafi (puritanical Sunni Kurdish) groups targeted civilians in public spaces to create massive casualties. Both groups may have had fewer than 500 active fighters combined, but managed to carry out assassinations of supposed collaborators with U.S. forces, including politicians, judges, security officials, and humanitarian workers. Relying on unconventional weapons such as improvised explosive devices (IEDs) or homemade bombs to slaughter contracted truckers, cooks, and cleaning personnel, these Salafists also killed hundreds of members of the secular Iraqi-Kurdish Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) and the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP). The Salafist militants also focused on several high profile assassinations of Shiite and Christian religious leaders in Iraq. In a combined military effort, Iraqi-Kurdish peshmerga KDP and PUK fighters and U.S. troops focused on eradicating the Kurdish jihadi groups. During several air bombardments of Ansar al-Islam encampments dozens of fighters escaped to neighboring countries, predominantly to Iran, but also to Western Europe where they are suspected of having established support networks. In 2006, the Iraqi-Kurdish regional government captured and executed 12 members of Ansar al-Islam. The most sought-after member of the organization and its top leader, Mullah Krekar, escaped to Norway where he applied for asylum papers. Krekar lost his appeal for Norwegian refugee status, not only because of the extended period of time he spent outside of Norway, but also because evidence indicated that he directed terrorist activities in northern Iraq. While Norway agreed that Krekar should be held accountable for his leadership role in Ansar al-Islam, the Norwegian government refused to extradite him to northern Iraq. Norwegian judges argued that it is reasonable to assume that Krekar would be tortured if he was extradited to Iraqi territory, and that it was nearly certain that he would

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face the death penalty. Since both the use of torture and the death penalty is illegal under European law, Norwegian police continue to monitor Mullah Krekar’s daily activities rather than respond to the Iraqi government’s request for extradition. In the meantime, Iraqi-Kurdish organizations are keen on arresting Krekar. In particular, the KDP would like to capture him because the group suffered hundreds of losses linked to Ansar attacks. Consequently, the KDP continues to collaborate with regional and European security officials by channeling information to intelligence sources about Krekar. Interestingly, Krekar has granted several Western media interviews to deny his leadership role in Ansar, and some of his remarks are on YouTube. In one particularly disturbing comment, Krekar indicated that he considered the use of suicide bombers as a legitimate tool of self-defense.2 Kurdish Web pages have proposed that Krekar may be in contact with militants from Somalia and Morocco to establish new jihadi networks in the Horn of Africa and North Africa. While such connections seem possible, it is also highly likely that loyal supporters of the KDP continue to pursue all avenues to eliminate Krekar. If European and U.S. intelligence circles lack evidence to arrest him, and if Norway refuses to extradite or expel him from the country, Krekar is certain to become a target for assassination should he ever return to Iraqi-Kurdish or even ethnic Kurdish dominated territory. Despite the difficulty of curtailing extremely violent Salafists in northern Iraq and fears that they may have established connections across regional borders, it is the guerrilla fighters of the PKK that present a constant reminder of acute danger to the Turkish state. Turkey’s military worries more about the PKK than it does about the influence of Salafist groups. To subdue cross-national Kurdish attempts to weaken the integrity of the Turkish state, the Turkish military maintains a high readiness level along the border region and appears prepared to intervene on a large scale if necessary. Over the past several years, and with the support of the U.S. government, northern Iraq’s Kurdish Regional Government (KRG) has undergone a metamorphosis, reshaping itself from a collection of organizations resisting Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship into a quasi-modern state structure. The KRG does not operate entirely independently of the central government in Baghdad, but it pursues all avenues to reduce Baghdad’s influences. However, as a regional government the KRG functions in a less unified manner than it appears to the casual observer. Both traditionally dominant Iraqi-Kurdish parties, the KDP and the PUK, keep parallel structures in place as an insurance policy against a sudden turn of events. Despite the dual system, the KRG has managed to forge a regional identity that has helped to overcome significant disputes between the Kurdish factions in Iraq. Turkey’s Kemalists loathe such developments, as they fear that the KRG might inspire a more assertive Kurdish response within Turkey’s own borders.

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Iraqi-Kurdish socio-political networks have taken on significantly more modern characteristics since the removal of Saddam Hussein. On the surface, they no longer appear to be traditional tribal structures. Clearly, contemporary Kurdish militias no longer rob caravans that pass through their territory, yet Kurdish networks operate similarly to transnational and often criminal organizations when they manage cross-border trade. It is not farfetched to suggest that parallels exist between traditional Kurdish tribal structures and modern Kurdish networks. Leaders of such networks benefit from tax payments collected along border crossings and employ standard patronage systems to assure loyalty. Every trucker, ranging from those transporting oil to metal scraps to sustainment loads, faces checks for contraband. Alongside the truckers, weapons smugglers and drug traffickers pay so-called “transfer taxes” or “customs fees” to local representatives as they pass through territory under their control. Networked men get jobs; their loyalty helps to sustain families. The transportation business booms, as newly created border crossings attract the criminal element. In modern state-centric terminology, such border transfer fees are called bribes, illegal payoffs, or kickbacks. Seen as part of a corruptive system that undermines the state’s prerogative to collect taxes and to secure its borders, this neo-tribal reality creates separate and often parallel and competing governing structures without full transparency. In the eyes of U.S. and European observers, these militias represent antidemocratic centers of power because the central state does not fully control them. In failing states such as Afghanistan or Somalia, and in weak states like Pakistan and Iraq, the bureaucracy cannot reliably provide services to all segments of the population. Instead, population sub-groups and specific constituencies rely on established ethnic or religious networks. To a lesser degree this is also the case in the southeastern provinces of Turkey. When central states lack full legitimacy because they have not ensured the population’s loyalty by providing reliable social services or economic incentives and educational opportunities, then transnational criminal activity emerges as a serious security challenge. The absence of peace in a region contributes to the creation of opportunities for networks to benefit from the ensuing chaos. Hostile relations or lack of trust can create ideal circumstances for tribal organizations that offer welcome protection by providing reliable sources of revenue and personal safety. Such circumstances characterize the border region between Turkey and northern Iraq, where little confidence exists that either the KRG or the Turkish military will take steps to resolve the PKK’s insurgency any time soon. The Iraqi-Kurds and the Turkish military benefit indirectly from the existence of regional insecurities. The Turkish military justifies both its dominant influence on Turkish society and its significant budget demands by citing the ongoing PKK insurgency, while the KRG makes a gamble that involves utilizing the PKK as a bargaining chip in negotiations with the Turkish government. As long as the Kurdish question continues

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to be defined as a problem with terrorism, and Turkish society accepts the subordination of other socio-political concerns to the established security parameters, little substantial change will be implemented. In the meantime, the PKK manages to flourish in this geographic space that neither the KRG nor the Turkish government fully controls. The PKK’s linkages to Kurdish networks on both sides of the border provide the organization with substantial economic and logistical benefits.

REPRESSION AND FAILED POLICIES Essentially, the PKK emerged, thrived, and later survived as a guerrilla organization because the Turkish state’s leading nationalist ideologues and the military establishment pursued counterproductive, negligent, and ineffective policies in the southeastern provinces. In the early years of the Turkish Republic, the state failed to destroy Kurdish tribal structures despite considerable levels of violence followed by long-term military efforts to suppress the population. After World War II, Turkey’s leaders neglected to emphasize economic, social, and educational development projects in the southeastern provinces, and pursued modernization and political liberalization in the Western, coastal, and central areas of the country. This combination of compartmentalized policies—first extreme repression in the Kurdish regions, then economic neglect followed by partial political liberalization—provided Kurdish activists with ample opportunities to organize around legitimate grievances. While Turkish nationalists endorsed a multi-party system after World War II, they never intended to grant a voice to minority communities such as the Kurds. But by liberalizing the political atmosphere ever so slightly without acknowledging the repression and violence experienced by Kurds, Turkish nationalists demonstrated that they had come to believe in their own web of ideological deceit. Convinced that the military had eradicated tribal structures and that Kurdish people were backward Turks, they assumed that the problem of dissent had been solved. In 1950, President Inönü decided to put an end to the single-party structure and allowed the newly formed Democratic Party led by Adnan Menderes to compete for votes. The Democratic Party emerged as the winner of this first multi-party election and a wave of optimism swept the country. The period between 1950 and 1960, often called the Decade of Democrats in Turkey, introduced fewer central controls and opened the nation to both socio-political and economic transformation.3 But by the mid-1950s the state’s modernization campaign had slowed significantly, and the resulting inflation reduced real incomes, which created widespread discontent. In response to the negative public mood in the country, the civilian government became increasingly autocratic. It rigged the 1957 election, suppressed meetings of opposition parties, and aggressively dispersed student

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protesters. In 1960 the military intervened to prevent further political polarization and removed Menderes in a coup. He and his cabinet were accused of having violated the constitution, and Menderes was executed a few months later. That same year, Kurdish communities in Iraq rebelled under the leadership of Mustafa Barzani. Concerned about the impact of the Iraqi-Kurdish revolt on Kurds in Turkey, the Turkish military increased its presence in Kurdish regions to threaten the population with severe repercussions and punishment should they emulate their brethren in Iraq. Despite the military’s direct interference in the country’s political sphere, the post-coup constitution of 1961 created more opportunities to express independent thought. For the first time since the founding of the republic, trade unions gained the right to assemble and strike, and freedom of the press was expanded. Kurdish and Turkish socialist journals and newspapers appeared in print, universities formed socialist debating societies, and organizations such as Dev-Genç (The Federation of Revolutionary Youth) emerged as influential urban agitators. Turkey’s socio-political climate progressed along the same trajectory as other rapidly developing countries during the 1960s. In Mexico for example, the government faced an increasingly agitated student population, inspired and radicalized by Marxist ideas. Through marches and protest events, the students hoped for increasing political influence and social justice in the country. Among the demands articulated by the Mexican students were the right of assembly, changes to the penal code, and the release of political prisoners. Radical students forcefully challenged Mexico’s tactical police and questioned their legitimacy because of a well-known pattern of repressive conduct. In anticipation of the Olympic games in Mexico City, student protesters believed that they could attract international media attention, but failed to anticipate the possibility of a ferocious military response. The Mexican government ordered sniper units to end the political agitation. Troops subdued the student protests in the infamous 1968 Tlatelolco massacre in which hundreds of university students were killed, executed in police custody, or simply disappeared. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, many semi-democratic and liberal democratic countries authorized patterns of repression to undermine and weaken student protest movements. Sometimes, as was the case in both West Germany and Italy, repressive police action provoked antagonistic responses from among radicalized groups. In Turkey, the military pursued a second coup d’état to enforce order and establish control. Some left-wing student organizations such as The People’s Liberation Army of Turkey (THKO) decided to avoid open confrontation with authorities, and went underground to arm their members. THKO supporters pledged to rid Turkey of all imperialist foreign influence. Convinced that it would be impossible to achieve its goals through peaceful means or by operating within legal channels, members of THKO engaged in surprise attacks. THKO orchestrated kidnappings of

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several NATO employees, carried out bank robberies to subsidize their operations, and managed to hijack a mid-sized Turkish airliner. The majority of the organization’s members, however, were either killed in shoot-outs with the military police, or captured and summarily executed by the state in 1972. In the increasingly agitated political environment of the 1970s, leftist intellectuals in Turkey framed their demands for change in anti-imperial and anti-capitalist terminology. By focusing on socialist principles such as class struggle, internal colonization, capitalist bourgeoisie, and dependency theory, they hoped to appeal to a broader audience in Turkey, including members of disadvantaged minorities such as the Kurds. The vociferous and mostly urban Kurdish elites cooperated with emergent leftist movements that were willing to question the legitimacy of the power structure in the country. The Workers Party of Turkey (WPT), a legal socialist party, played a dominant role in challenging Ankara by demanding higher wages and condemning the unequal distribution of wealth throughout the provinces. Encouraged by its Kurdish party members, the WPT effectively reached out to ethnically Kurdish voters through its public confirmation of a separate Kurdish ethnicity.4

CLIMATE OF FEAR The WPT was the first Turkish party to move beyond the constraints of what had been termed the “Eastern Problem,” a euphemism for the ethnic Kurdish issue at the time. By focusing on consciousness-raising efforts, the Turkish left began to pursue an effective mobilization strategy as it reached out to marginalized population groups in urban shanty towns. It emphasized direct criticism of authoritarian state controls, but also addressed the lack of social justice in society. The language and ideals of socialism appealed to a growing number of students from the lower-middle and working classes, many of who had only recently gained access to university level education. The ability to debate socio-economic issues and to share ideological interpretations with other students from similar backgrounds contributed to a process of political engagement, but also fomented radicalization. Because of growing agitation by representatives of right-wing, nationalist, and left-wing organizations, reactionary groups clashed with radicals in the streets with planned regularity. In particular, one organization, the Revolutionary Cultural Society of the East (DDKO), which shared its membership with the WPT, played a crucial role in criticizing discriminatory economic patterns and exclusionary social structures in the Kurdish provinces, Ankara, and Istanbul. The DDKO was the first official Kurdish organization to openly focus on the Kurdish question and challenge the state’s ideology. It offered workshops to engage and empower marginalized workers and peasants, and emphasized the right of

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recognition for ethnic minorities. Increasingly radical DDKO representatives organized and led “regular teach-ins to raise Kurdish consciousness.” 5 A young man by the name of Abdullah Öcalan, later to emerge as the authoritarian leader of the ethno-nationalist and Marxist PKK, participated in some of these consciousness-raising workshops. Activist Kurds had started to feel relegated to positions of lesser importance, and formed independent leftist groups to operate separately from the Turkish left. This development reflected a growing rift between Kurdish nationalists and the Turkish left, as increasingly radicalized Kurds accused leftist organizations of lacking a real commitment to the Kurdish struggle. In fact, the left had always preferred to emphasize general workers’ rights as part of a class struggle rather than focus on ethnic concerns. Despite growing opportunities for leftist groups to agitate politically, the state decided to set clear limits when ethnic concerns emerged as a central theme. Authorities interfered as soon as Kurdish language publications appeared in print. Magazines and books were confiscated and writers and activists prosecuted for separatist activities. Following the coup in 1971, the military quickly introduced martial law and banned gatherings linked to trade unions. The DDKO was closed and its leadership, along with the members of the Workers Party of Turkey, faced arrest and charges of supporting communism and separatism. Many participants in leftist circles escaped to Europe by the mid-1970s, and some took advantage of already established connections to radical anti-imperialist groups abroad such as Fatah, which trained Turkish and Kurdish fighters in Lebanon. A sub-section of leftist agitators and radicals who headed for Europe and the Middle East joined anti-imperialist groups and embraced the unlimited use of violence. Just like earlier factions, they believed that the only way to impose socio-political change in Turkey was to engage in acts of terror. Among them were Turks and Kurds who had trained and collaborated with the Palestinian Black September movement, the Italian Brigate Rosse, and the German Baader-Meinhof gang (later called the Rote Armee Fraktion or RAF). Collaboration between extremist Turkish and Kurdish circles and Palestinian, Italian, and German radicals has existed for decades. Today, the PKK attracts large numbers of Syrian-Kurdish fighters; some estimates suggest that up to one-third of the PKK’s guerrilla force may consist of ethnic Kurds originating from Syria. In October 1998, Turkish authorities notified the German foreign office that a German woman by the name of Andrea Wolf had been killed in a battle between Turkish troops and guerrillas along the Turkish-Iraqi border region. Years earlier Wolf had evaded a warrant for her arrest in Germany, issued after prosecutors established links between her and third-generation members of the RAF in the 1990s. Intelligence circles had been aware that Wolf fought alongside Kurdish guerrillas, and the Turkish report of her death came as no surprise. Among PKK guerrillas, .

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Andrea Wolf (better known by her Kurdish nom de guerre Sehît Ronahî) was revered as a hero and martyr for the cause. PKK members continue to insist that Turkish troops captured her alive, and that she and fellow guerrilla members were summarily executed by the military in the Southeastern provinces. In 1980, the Turkish military carried out a third coup d’état to establish order and eliminate the influence of radical groups. But neither the military’s return to politics nor its repressive measures surprised the leadership of the PKK, which had left for Damascus, Syria. However, thousands of radicalized Turkish and Kurdish trade unionists and students, some of them communists, socialists, Marxist-Leninists and Maoists, and many of them PKK sympathizers, were swept up in waves of arrests, and ended up in the brutal dungeons of Turkish prisons. The most infamous penal complex was the Diyarbakir Military Prison, where, according to eyewitness reports, terrible screams of tortured prisoners could be heard day and night as they “were sodomized by batons, dunked into vats filled with excrement, left in rat-infested cells, terrorized by a[ttack] dog[s], given water mixed with detergent to drink, and forced to lie in the snow in their underwear.”6 These prisons served as recruitment centers for the PKK and other militant groups by creating networks of hardened supporters. Those among Kurdish nationalists, Marxists, and Maoists who survived their hideous prison terms often joined underground organizations like the PKK after their release. The waves of arrest in the early 1980s convinced growing numbers of nationalist Kurds to flee across the border into Syria, where the PKK had now established its central command structures. From their Syrian encampments, PKK cadres made their way to militant training bases in the Syrian controlled Bekaa Valley of Lebanon. While the Turkish military believed that it had weakened Kurdish resistance, the PKK launched a ferocious insurgency in 1984 after training a core group of its guerrilla fighters. The PKK’s leadership under Öcalan’s command seemed confident that the organization could sustain a guerrilla struggle for the establishment of an independent Kurdish homeland. A year later, the PKK created two additional branches within the organization, namely the National Liberation Front of Kurdistan (ERNK) and the People’s Liberation Army of Kurdistan (ARGK). The ERNK recruited new fighters, spread propaganda, and gathered intelligence; while the ARGK began sending small cadres on attack missions into Turkey. Wealthy Kurdish landholders, the class of patriarchal ağas, and representatives of the Turkish state, among them judges, parliamentarians, members of the armed forces, bureaucrats, and teachers became immediate targets for the PKK. This first explosive wave of violence across the predominantly Kurdish provinces took Ankara, especially the military establishment, by surprise. The PKK carefully selected unpopular and repressive landlords for assassination. Hoping to demonstrate the organization’s prowess, the PKK aimed to send a clear message that the Turkish state could not protect its

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representatives in remote areas of the countryside. Among the initial victims of the PKK were tribal chiefs who enforced tyrannical and patriarchal structures in order to amass personal power and wealth. Over time, the Kurdish population expressed not only fear of the PKK but also admiration for its brazen willingness to confront the established power structures. Historian McDowall described the Kurdish population’s early response, stating: . . . the PKK created a climate of fear. It struck ruthlessly in the heartlands of conservatism in Kurdistan. . . . It created great ambivalence among ordinary Kurds. Most feared it, some loathed it for it threatened their secure position within the system or within their traditional world view, and others secretly (or not so secretly) admired its daring.7

THE RISE OF THE PKK After the PKK’s establishment as a militant underground organization in 1978, it underwent multiple transformations to sustain itself during four distinct operational phases. In each new phase the PKK introduced revised tactics and thereby reflected the organization’s ability to reinvent itself even when faced with near military defeat. The first phase of the guerrilla war lasted from 1978 to 1985. During the early years the PKK demonstrated that it was inspired by traditional leftist revolutionary ideals, and it was prepared to engage in brutal tactics to increase its regional profile and relevancy. The PKK’s command structure, led by Öcalan, endorsed extreme levels of carnage and showed a willingness to sacrifice its own rank and file to prove the PKK’s ability to act forcefully. To address the Kurdish population more directly, the PKK reshaped its revolutionary ideology in the mid-1980s, integrating an ethno-national appeal that helped with the recruitment of fighters and the expansion of its logistical support network. Throughout the 1980s the PKK followed a hardcore guerrilla strategy to maintain control over the organization’s ideological vision and its membership. In that respect, the PKK shared organizational similarities with the Peruvian Maoist organization Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path). The PKK was similar to Shining Path in that both groups relied on the ideological inspiration of an omnipotent leader who enforced a rigid system of hierarchy and control. Both organizations appealed to ethnically marginalized populations and relied on profoundly impoverished recruits to carry out their missions. While Shining Path focused on destroying the Peruvian state before it planned to establish a new society, the PKK’s stated goals pursued a different aim. It tried to enact a vision of Kurdish liberation and the establishment of an ethnic Kurdish national homeland. The PKK encouraged regionally based Kurdish riots against Turkish authorities, pursued propaganda activities, and promoted acts of disruptive

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economic sabotage. The organization also committed ambushes and kidnappings for ransom. To counter the PKK’s violence and its growing influence in rural areas, the Turkish military started to recruit and arm villagers whose tribal leaders and landlords were opposed to the PKK. Reminiscent of Ottoman policies that used Hamidiye tribal militias against Armenians, the Turkish military’s reliance on the recruitment of Village Guards (or village self-defense units) intensified the levels of violence. Turkey’s high command essentially paralleled Latin American antiinsurgency strategies that created scorched earth campaigns in countries like Guatemala. There the military had forced some Mayan communities to take up arms against other rebellious Mayan populations, who were allied with the guerrilla umbrella organization Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity (URNG). The recruitment, arming, and financing of segments of the local population culminated in heinous massacres and a decrease in support for the military-dominated state. Just like in Guatemala, Turkey’s counter-insurgency approach led to an intensification of violence across the countryside. Eventually this second phase of extreme bloodshed resulted in a period of urban terror campaigns carried out by the PKK. In the early 1990s the PKK began a European campaign that emphasized collective protest action, extortion schemes, and bombings of commercial Turkish interests abroad. From 1994 until the capture of Öcalan in 1999, the PKK pursued a more conciliatory European effort, combined with extensive political pressure campaigns. This double strategy was the PKK’s third operational phase. The Kurdish diaspora’s political activism became an effective long-term strategy that launched the transnational Kurdish agenda. Instead of openly pursuing an independent homeland, Kurdish activists started to push for the recognition of minority status for Kurds in Turkey. European government officials, while considering Turkey for membership in the EU, demonstrated limited support for the recognition of Kurds as a separate ethnic group in Turkey. EU parliamentary committees began to investigate human rights violations in the southeastern provinces of Turkey, and sent fact-finding missions to speak with representatives of Kurdish civil society. The PKK initiated a fourth operational phase in 2000 as a response to internal organizational confusion and a growing number of defections after Öcalan’s capture in 1999. PKK hardliners labeled this period the Imrali phase because of Öcalan’s imprisonment on the Turkish island of Imrali, from where he communicated to PKK command structures and cadres through his legal team. With Öcalan in prison, the PKK renamed itself The Freedom and Democracy Congress of Kurdistan (KADEK) and then The People’s Congress of Kurdistan (Kongra-Gel) attempting to reinvent itself. The PKK called for an end to all militant activities and demanded the initiation of international peace negotiations. But the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 entirely undermined the PKK’s political

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opportunities. In an atmosphere of rising apprehension vis-à-vis radical groups from the Muslim world, the PKK became classified as too suspicious to emerge as an influential player in European political circles. Since 2003, PKK elements in Europe have pursued a political strategy that uses protest and civil disobedience campaigns, along with political lobbying. The goal of European PKK branches clearly shifted toward pressuring European governments to demand minority status for Kurds before Turkey’s full inclusion in the EU. But that strategy has failed to produce tangible results for the Kurdish minority in Turkey. Radical splinter groups of the PKK appear to become increasingly restless and may pursue another military phase in the coming years. The PKK’s willingness to use extreme violence has not faded from either Turkish or Kurdish memories, and fears are rising that urban terror may emerge again as another chapter in this decades-long struggle.

THE PKK AND U.S.-TURKISH RELATIONS Traditionally, Turkish nationalists focused much of their criticism on Europe, since the majority of radical Kurds resided there. However, during the initial years of U.S. intervention in Iraq (2003–2006), Turkish nationalists started to complain bitterly about a lack of U.S. attention to the PKK. U.S. military operations in northern Iraq failed to curtail the PKK as Ankara had expected. Once the Bush administration authorized the Iraq war without an emphasis on destroying PKK encampments, anti-American sentiments grew noticeably in Turkey. By 2006, U.S.-Turkish relations had reached a low point. The release of the Turkish blockbuster movie “Valley of the Wolves Iraq” (Kurtlar Vadisi Iraka), created an international stir followed by European, Israeli, and U.S. protests. The film’s opening scene depicted U.S. troops capturing 11 members of Turkey’s Special Forces units in the northern Iraqi Kurdish city of Sulamaniyah. This scene, loosely based on an actual event, portrayed an unusually hostile incident between two NATO allies. The incident recreated in the movie occurred in 2003, when members of the 173rd Airborne Brigade in conjunction with local Kurdish forces had carried out a raid on an unidentified and apparently clandestine Turkish safe house. During this raid, Special Forces units from Turkey were arrested, detained, and hooded. Turkish Special Forces had attempted to carry out a covert mission in the area. Breaking with protocol, Turkish commanders failed to notify U.S. forces in advance of their operation, making it reasonable to assume that they were attempting to collect intelligence on militant Kurdish groups in the region. From a U.S. military perspective, Turkish commanders appeared to have been:

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less than up front with us and used the incident to make a political statement. There was an agreement with the Turks to have “observers” in the Kurdistan region during this period. Part of this agreement was to have all observer locations coordinated with the land owning coalition unit. Our division had several of these observer locations identified—both sides were cognizant of their location. The one in Sulamaniyah was not one of these locations.8

When Turkish officials arrived at the previously unidentified safe house, the non-descript building was transformed. Now a “large Turkish flag flew outside, uniformed Turkish military stood guard and Atatürk busts and portraits were everywhere.”9 In Turkey events surrounding this raid became highly politicized and served to encourage anti-American sentiments. The PKK’s ability to expand its sanctuary in northern Iraq created a great deal of anger, and once Turkey’s military establishment understood that the U.S. would not solve this problem for them, nationalist Turks focused on stirring up public opinion. Ultra-nationalists framed the “hooding,” perhaps more accurately described as the “bagging incident” of the Turkish Special Forces, as an act that was deeply offensive and humiliating to the Turkish nation.10 It was not surprising that many Turks welcomed the release of “Valley of the Wolves,” as the film portrayed U.S. military personnel negatively. In contrast, U.S. officials considered the blockbuster film controversial if not offensive, since U.S. troops were depicted using Iraqi civilians as human shields and torturing Arabs, which was reminiscent of crimes committed at Abu Ghraib. In the movie, U.S. troops appeared driven by hatred and greed, and the film depicted “Americans as barbaric murderers who rape and kill Iraqis, with an American Jewish doctor dismembering them to supply organs for Jewish markets.”11 To complicate the situation further, Emine Erdoğan, the wife of Turkey’s prime minister, attended the film’s gala opening and described the movie to Turkish media as emotionally powerful. Her remarks only added to the public controversy surrounding the film. While popular in Turkey as well as in the Arab world, the film caused consternation among European, Israeli, and U.S. audiences. Yet, in an international atmosphere of uncertainty with regard to U.S. long-term intentions in Iraq, and the emergence of detailed accounts of torture carried out at Abu Ghraib, Bagram, and Guantanamo, the film’s popularity in the Muslim world was hardly surprising. Since the beginning of the Iraq war, Turkish nationalists had searched for clear signs that indicated U.S. support for eliminating the PKK. But U.S. leaders dashed such hopes by establishing a closer relationship with Kurdish organizations in Iraq. This further contributed to the formation of reactionary anti-Americanism in Turkey. Turkish nationalists dissected every word uttered by U.S. officials to identify perceived hidden messages or agendas. When Ambassador Daniel Fried, then Assistant Secretary for European and

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Eurasian Affairs, agreed to an interview in 2006 with the newspaper Zaman, it was obvious that Turkish policy analysts would scrutinize his remarks. The country’s intellectual class had sought opportunities to improve Turkish collaboration with the United States to enhance Turkey’s national security interests. One of the initial interview questions focused on Fried’s assessment of Turkey’s strategic significance in the post-Cold War era. The career diplomat reflected on the profound economic and political changes that had taken place in Turkey, and emphasized a continuing democratization process in the country. But, to the disappointment of Turkey’s established powerbrokers and intellectual elites, Fried did not mention the resurgence of the PKK as a central security theme in the beginning of his interview. Turkey’s military and secular leadership in the bureaucracy and judiciary interpreted this omission as further evidence of their deep-seated concern that the United States was pursuing a new direction in the region. Some believed that Turkey’s strategic position had been downgraded from that of a top-tier ally that had guarded Europe against aggression from the Soviet Union during the Cold War. Now it seemed, at least to some members of the elite, that Turkey was an ally of secondary value. During the interview with Zaman, Fried remarked that Turkey’s contributions had shifted from an emphasis on a military and strategic role to one of political and cultural significance. He suggested that a transformation had taken place, and that: . . . [Turkey’s] importance in the Cold War was critical, but narrow. It was military and security. Now, its importance is civilizational and political. And the areas we work with Turkey are not only strategic, but they are also in energy, and it is an outward-looking relationship, not a relationship confined to dealing with the problem of the Soviet Union. So, the strength Turkey brought to the relationship in the Cold War is no longer as relevant, because it’s not a military problem.12

Fried’s response focused on transcending the rigid boundaries that once confined U.S.-Turkish military-strategic relations, but the reaction among secular Turks was far from enthusiastic about this shift. They feared an official endorsement of the Islamic AKP government and its policies by the U.S. at a time when the PKK had gained an opportunity to re-organize itself in northern Iraq. Secular elites, particularly the military, disliked the Bush administration’s view on the Kurdish question as a secondary concern. Even more confusing to them was the administration’s emphasis on “civilizational” and cultural issues, which increasingly linked Turkey to a more limited and regionally confined agenda driven by unfamiliar and obscure U.S. interests. Turkey’s military worried about the country’s strategic and military interests, particularly in relation to sectarian violence in Iraq and the potential for Kurdish independence or autonomy arrangements in northern Iraq. In addition,

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the Turkish military establishment expressed apprehension over the re-emergence of a combative and empowered PKK. Both the military establishment and the judiciary in Turkey rejected what Fried had labeled as “civilizational” goals. Although no obvious references to Samuel Huntington’s influential work in The Clash of Civilizations were made in the Zaman interview, Fried’s remarks focused on Turkey’s proximity to Iran, Iraq, and Syria, and the nation’s potential capacity to exert a moderating influence on the region.13 In contrast, Turkey’s military expressed a strong preference for allying the country with the U.S. and NATO forces, and did not see itself as a participant in a regional clash between civilizations. In its most acute form, a civilizational clash as proposed by Huntington was the hostile and violent bifurcation of Muslim societies and Western states. Turkey’s military establishment rejected the notion that a civilizational clash was an appropriate context for the modern Turkish Republic. Instead, the military elite identified itself with Kemalist principles of secularism, which subordinated Islam to state mechanisms of control and management. According to Kemalist ideology, this arrangement had been expected to facilitate Turkey’s collaboration with Western democracies. U.S. expectations that Turkey would now become a tool that shaped political agendas in neighboring countries angered Turkish nationalists. Yet the Bush administration’s perception that Turkey’s ability to tame Islam could be helpful in the pursuit of specific U.S. foreign policy interests also created intensive pressure for Turkey to redefine its own interests. Ankara’s strategic, security, and economic concerns no longer easily overlapped with U.S. preferences for the region, exposing cracks if not a break in the relationship between the two NATO allies.

WIDENING GAPS Until the 1990s Turkey had leveraged its geography to advance national security interests within NATO. But the country’s location became a sore point in Turkey’s EU negotiations ever since members of European Parliament openly questioned whether Turkey could actually be considered part of Europe in light of its geography and cultural heritage. References to geographic location and civilization became code terms for the perceived threat of a process of Islamization in Europe. Former French President Valéry Giscard d’Estaing evoked this hypothetical menace by arguing that granting Turkey the right to accession would have a devastating result for the EU since “Turkey has a different culture, a different approach, a different way of life. . . . Its capital is not in Europe.”14 Edmund Stoiber, the former minister-president of the more conservative German state Bavaria and leader of the Christian Social Union (CSU), suggested: “Europe as an entity has geographic limits which do not extend to the Turkey-Iraq

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border.” 15 Turkey’s proximity to Iran and Arab neighbors produced multilayered complications during EU accession negotiations, and also began to shape U.S. perceptions of Turkey’s role in the region. The Bush administration considered Turkey a regional Muslim ally that could legitimize U.S. policies in the larger Middle East, and particularly in Iraq. Members of Turkey’s elites felt a lingering sense of discomfort with the notion of living under an U.S. imposed strategy toward neighboring countries. Turkey, at least from the military’s perspective, wanted to secure the nation and its borders. In addition, the powerful business class hoped to strengthen and advance the country’s economic relationships in the region. Both the military and the secular business class preferred to de-emphasize cultural or religious issues as secondary concerns in contrast to interests pursued by members of the governing AKP. Turkey’s secular leadership had never imagined finding itself in the position of a so-called moderate Muslim buffer state that would be asked to divert the spread of radical Islamist ideology. A gap emerged between preferences advanced by Ankara and in Washington, DC. The Bush administration’s concept of a “Turkish model” created profound national insecurities in Turkey at a time when the AKP gained traction among socially conservative Turkish voters. But it was the combination of several factors that provoked a sense of anxiety among the traditional power brokers in Turkey. Among these factors were U.S. support for a moderate Islamic model based on Turkey’s governing structure, the Bush administration’s willingness to embrace the AKP, and the divergence of Turkish national security concerns from dominant U.S. interests. It became less clear-cut what role Islam was going to play in terms of domestic and international policy choices as a consequence of frequently changing preferences among policy makers in the United States and Turkey. Ankara asserted a more independent foreign policy approach at the time of the Iraq invasion. The Bush administration considered this, at least in part, a problematic development. Turkey’s parliament, the Grand National Assembly, had voted on March 1, 2003 to deny U.S. troops the opportunity to stage an invasion of Iraq from Turkish territory. This vote created the initial rift between the two countries, which was exacerbated by further policy disagreements. As the U.S. government aimed to isolate the Syrian regime for permitting its border with Iraq to remain porous, Ankara improved trade relations with Damascus. And when the Turkish government pursued improved economic and diplomatic ties with Tehran, the White House appeared to ponder stronger measures against Iran. Turkey’s increasingly independent foreign policy and its assertiveness toward northern Iraq contributed to a rise in nationalist sentiments among the population. By 2005, PKK guerrilla forces renewed their ambush tactics, which only intensified already thorny relations between Turkey and the country’s Kurdish minority. The once robust economic development plans advocated by the Turkish government in order to speed up development efforts in the southeastern

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provinces evaporated after the Kurds established more and more territorial controls in neighboring northern Iraq. A host of long-standing grievances re-emerged in Turkish domestic politics. Troubled by obvious signs of Iraqi-Kurdish political empowerment and the potential for Kurdish independence, Turkey’s military expressed a deeply-felt sense of distrust toward the new leadership of the AKP. Entire segments of Turkey’s powerful bureaucratic establishment including state prosecutors, high-level administrators, right-wing newspaper editors, nationalist politicians, security personnel, and military commanders were wary of the Kurdish minority. Ideologues and extremists used the growing levels of suspicion to spread hateful propaganda messages. Increasingly aggressive language and posturing damaged interactions between representatives of Turkish and Kurdish nationalist organizations and their respective civil society groups. Supporters of Kemalism expressed grave concern when Kurdish groups and their Western allies articulated support for the recognition of minority group rights. Turkey’s secular elites, including military commanders, high-level judges, bureaucrats, and members of the established business classes felt under siege. Threatened by the so-called creeping Islamization, they simultaneously needed to defeat Kurdish forces that seemed to receive protection from Europe and the United States.

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Loss of Status

TURKEY’S ARMED FORCES In a moment of grim candor in 2007, General Ilker Başbuğ appeared to confirm media allegations that the PKK had regrouped and gained strength. Speaking at the opening ceremonies of the Land Forces Cadet School, the general warned that despite extensive efforts to eradicate Kurdish guerrillas in the southeastern provinces, the military had failed to “prevent new adherents from joining this organization.”1 The PKK, he said, remained capable of motivating young Kurds to carry out acts of terror throughout the nation. In addition, Başbuğ asserted that the militant Kurdish organization and its splinter groups continued to recruit volunteers in significant numbers despite tremendous human losses and staggering economic costs to the region. In his speech to the cadets, the general asked rhetorically what conditions made it possible for the PKK to continuously attract ideologically committed guerrilla fighters. Unexpectedly, Başbuğ had raised one of the fundamental questions related to Turkey’s longstanding battle with the PKK. At the height of the guerrilla’s resistance during the 1980s, the PKK commanded some 50,000 fighters, but since the capture of PKK leader Öcalan the Turkish armed forces estimated that those numbers had shrunk to about 5,000 to 6,000 active guerrillas. Despite a reduction in the number of fighters, the PKK continued to cause damage, in part because its hidden encampments remained ensconced in the Kandil Mountains of northern Iraq. For years, opponents of the military’s counter-insurgency approach to the Kurdish question had raised objections and suggested that it was a

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sign of the military’s failure that the PKK continued to attract new recruits. Many advocated for a political solution that would undermine the PKK’s ability to appeal to a segment of the radicalized Kurdish youth.2 But General Başbuğ, who in August 2008 assumed the position of Chief of the General Staff, claimed that the military was not the sole party responsible for the failure to eliminate the PKK and its civilian support structures. In his carefully prepared and vetted comments to the 2007 class of graduating cadets, the general alluded to religious and ideological dissent, which the armed forces perceived as a dangerous development throughout the country. Raising the specter of a slow Islamization process in Turkey, Başbuğ indirectly warned about a generation of young men who had been educated in imam-hatip schools and now entered public service. The general emphasized that it was not merely the military’s obligation to eradicate religious fundamentalism, terrorism, and the PKK, but that all of society played a role in the process of securing the future of the nation. He proclaimed: . . . [this] duty befalls all state institutes and institutions. If new members keep joining the organization [PKK] as security forces put others out of action, the fight against terror will take much longer than planned. One of the biggest mistakes that were [sic] made each time there was a decrease in terror was to assume that the terror organization was finished.3

The general also recognized that the armed forces carried some responsibility for allowing the PKK to regroup since there had been opportunities to defeat the guerrillas at times of weakness and vulnerability. But his criticism placed a significant amount of blame on state institutions and the larger bureaucracy for the PKK’s survival. The fiercely secular general considered the increasing influence of religious communities and the rise of the AKP as a threat to Turkey. Başbuğ appeared to propose that when AKP appointees worked at state institutions they could not be trusted to protect the nation from creeping Islamization or terror organizations such as the PKK. Insinuating that the AKP government failed to share the military’s commitment to Kemalism, he announced his intentions to remedy this problem by returning the Turkish nation to its fundamental republican values. The high command of the Turkish military shared Başbuğ’s view of the AKP as a dangerous force. According to Today’s Zaman, a newspaper that is close to the AKP, the Turkish armed forces have begun to identify, categorize, and track soldiers based on their religious reading and prayer habits. The daily paper reported that “several soldiers and cadets were mentioned in the document just for praying or carrying religious symbols. One of them is Onur Düşgül, a cadet at the Maltepe Military High School,” who stands accused of posing “a danger to the constitutional order of the Republic of Turkey.”4 In the article, journalist Sedat Güneç critically rejected the military’s use of widely disseminated lists of soldiers’ names because such labels condemned

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young men to life-long experiences with institutional discrimination and intimidation. Başbuğ, like other members of the high command, considered the categorization of soldiers according to their ability to influence peers a justified measure. When cadets undermined the socialization process of military institutions by openly displaying religious symbols, the officer corps believed it was necessary to act quickly to remove subversive elements. As the former top commander of the Turkish land forces and with extensive tactical experience in the southeastern provinces, Başbuğ advocated for a renewed effort to cleanse the armed forces. He wanted to put an end to the so-called infiltration of Islamists in the ranks of the military, and simultaneously pursue a smarter counter-insurgency campaign to eviscerate the remaining PKK fighters. In addition, the military establishment hoped to prevent a potential convergence of interests among segments of the AKP government, religious groups, and civically-engaged Kurdish leaders. Since 2004, Kurdish guerrilla units had intensified their attacks on military installations and police outposts to demonstrate their organizational strength. The PKK ended a unilateral cease-fire in June 2004, and abandoned their call for a renewed cease-fire in 2006 once it became clear that the Turkish government would not engage in any initial talks or limited negotiations. With the EU accession process under way in Turkey, Kurdish militants hoped to achieve a position of strength so that the PKK’s leadership could attain a seat at a future negotiation table. But neither European officials nor the Turkish government and military establishment expressed any enthusiasm for such a process, since it would validate the PKK as a legitimate political organization. Public officials in Europe and in Turkey flatly rejected the idea of legitimizing and authorizing the PKK so that it could assume the role of the representative voice of the Kurdish population. After all, the organization was considered at best a criminal enterprise and at worst a terrorist group. The PKK’s gamble to coerce the Turkish government into a negotiated arrangement failed until the summer of 2009, when the AKP government finally agreed to limited contacts with members of Kurdish intellectual and political circles and Kurdish civil society organizations. The PKK’s inability to engage the government in a negotiation left the organization’s leadership with a single option to remain relevant in Turkey: continuing their ongoing guerrilla strategy to pressure the Turkish government. The PKK increased the frequency of its attacks, targeting police and military installations several times a week to demonstrate that the PKK remained a force in the region. Simultaneously, the PKK floated the threat that it intended to expand its operations into Turkish towns and cities beyond the border regions where it had centered its operations since the Iraq war. In 2007, PKK-affiliated online media outlets in the Netherlands and Germany warned of consequences to the Turkish military’s decision to aggressively

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pursue guerrilla fighters into northern Iraq. “Wir werden die Städte der Türkei unbewohnbar machen (we will make Turkish cities uninhabitable),” threatened PKK commander Bahoz Erdal on Firat News, creating a profound sense of dread among the civilian population, Turkish military conscripts, and members of the police force. The Turkish officer corps, however, interpreted the PKK’s threats as a mere confirmation that the classification of the PKK as a violent, incorrigible group of militants was accurate. Despite the hostile language that announced the PKK’s urban terror campaign in Turkey, Erdal simultaneously emphasized that a political solution could be reached through dialogue. Since 2004, this dual-track approach of carrying out ambushes and threatening increased levels of violence along with an offer to engage in negotiations has become a standard practice for the PKK. In May 2009, during a period of reduced violence amounting to an undeclared cease-fire between the PKK and the Turkish armed forces, Turkish President Abdullah Gül made it clear to a group of journalists that “there will be no negotiations with terrorist organizations,” and that direct contact with the PKK would not be considered at the state level.5 Yet he called on members of the media, and on civil society participants such as NGOs, academics, intellectuals, and politicians including parliamentarians of the Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP), to contribute to resolving the Kurdish question by raising the country’s democratic standards. 6 Following the president’s remarks, members of the DTP sensed that an opportunity had materialized to engage in a more open, direct, and public discussion of the conflict. At a political conference in Diyarbakir in June 2009, DTP parliamentarians suggested that the use of violence had become an illegitimate tool in the country. The DTP modeled itself after Sinn Fein, the former political wing of the Irish Republican Army, which in time matured into a legitimate political party. While the British government initially refused to recognize Sinn Fein as a bona fide representative because of its close links to the IRA, it eventually recognized the significant role Sinn Fein could play in moving the peace process forward. After securing guarantees of support from international negotiators, the British government began negotiations. Outspoken DTP co-chair and parliamentarian Aysel Tuğluk appeared to propose an analogous Turkish path at the June 2009 Diyarbakir conference, although she did not directly allude to the Northern Ireland peace process. She suggested that three alternatives existed that could be pursued in support of an eventual resolution of the Kurdish struggle. The most obvious but least likely option according to Tuğluk would be the establishment of direct contacts between the government and imprisoned PKK leader Öcalan.7 A second option would be for the government to fully engage with the DTP as a legitimate party, but that required implicit contacts with the PKK.8 Finally, Tuğluk suggested the AKP government could continue to pursue its current path of relying on international mediators to engage in dialogue, but warned that such a process

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would most likely fail if neither the DTP nor the PKK would become a partner in a peace process.9 So far, the military has rejected all options raised at the June 2009 conference. Demonstrating little interest in an initiative that pursues a dialogue or a peace agreement, especially one endorsed by Kurdish civil society and the DTP, the military emphasizes the importance of defeating the PKK. Under General Başbuğ’s leadership, the Turkish armed forces affirmed unwavering opposition to the dangers of anti-secular and separatist influences in the country. In many respects, Başbuğ exemplified the “standard” or “typical” voice of the Turkish officer corps. He asserted a political position that not only represented the viewpoint of the armed forces but also demonstrated his continued influence within the Turkish Defense Ministry. Journalist Lale Kemal examined General Başbuğ’s control over the defense apparatus in a 2009 column in Today’s Zaman. In her opinion-piece she suggested that the AKP government had selected “low-profile” Vecdi Gönül for the Ministry of Defense to avoid a confrontation with the leadership of the armed forces. According to her assessment, “Gönül has not made any efforts to help the government reduce the political power of the country’s Turkish Armed Forces (TSK). He is still the only civilian at the Ministry of Defense, which is stuffed full of uniformed men; meanwhile, the TSK is not subordinated to him, but to Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.”10 General Başbuğ’s approach to public relations differed from that of his predecessor, General Büyükanıt, by contributing to the military’s efforts to tone down the levels of nationalist rhetoric. Başbuğ’s interaction with the media was measured, while Büyükanıt had endorsed a stubborn emphasis on secular and security-related rhetoric that represented the norm among the military elite. Büyükanıt served as Chief of the General Staff from 2006 to 2008. He often used blunt, controversial language in articulating harsh policies intending to solve problems in the southeastern provinces. Büyükanıt, for instance, condemned village leaders and imams for collaborating with the PKK because their “silent tolerance” appeared to him as a likely explanation for the military’s inability to eradicate PKK support structures in the countryside. Anyone who did not openly defy the PKK appeared to support it, according to Büyükanıt. In a pointed, menacing affront in 2007, Büyükanıt warned the AKP government to refrain from implementing fundamentalist Islamic laws. But among his more hyperbolic accusations were that “certain EU member states and NATO allies supported PKK terrorists and undermined Turkey’s interests.” 11 He asserted that “Europe pursued a secret agenda,” that European governments were responsible for hosting PKK terrorists, and that they tolerated the drug trade as long as the profits supported PKK interests. The general also implied that some countries, including Belgium and Denmark, permitted the broadcasting of terrorist media reports in order to damage Turkey’s reputation.12 Büyükanıt’s worldview was one of

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Realpolitik, like the vast majority of Turkey’s high command. In Büyükanıt’s assessment of the Kurdish conflict, Turkey’s territory and the nation’s population had to be protected from interests pursued by European powers that benefited Kurdish separatists. In that context, other political, moral, or legal concerns were relegated to a position of lesser importance. The military clearly perceived its campaign against the PKK as a zero-sum game: only one party could maintain its power and influence, the other had to lose. The Turkish high command’s commitment to Realpolitik clearly excluded an option for a negotiated settlement with the PKK. To energize domestic ultra-nationalist audiences in the face of criticism by EU members, Büyükanıt demanded that European countries be held accountable for permitting PKK-affiliated associations and media outlets to thrive financially and ideologically in Europe. In a dramatic statement intended for domestic supporters, the general called a number of European governments “responsible for every drop of blood spilled by the PKK.”13 Not mincing his words, Büyükanıt also denounced the United States for “keeping silent in the face of terrorist activities directed at other countries,” referencing the U.S. military’s reluctance to confront Turkish concerns related to PKK encampments in northern Iraq.14 He suggested that the United States failed to adequately address the PKK issue because the U.S. military hoped to weaken Turkey’s position in the region and aimed to harm Turkey’s larger national security interests. To European and U.S. diplomatic circles, the general’s language was perceived as not only offensive, extreme, and reactionary, but also as counterproductive to advancing civilian and military cross-border relations. Most of the time, at least with respect to perceptions shared among regional observers, the Turkish General Staff’s hostile rhetoric failed to enhance Turkey’s national and international interests. Yet clearly, Büyükanıt articulated an agenda that the Turkish high command endorsed, not a rogue position or minority view shared only among a group of hard-liners. In 1999, 10 years earlier, the Commander of the Aegean Army, General Doğu Aktulga, had proposed that the Turkish Armed Forces were the backbone of the Turkish state and its “most vital organ,” suggesting that the Turkish state would not function effectively without the guidance of the military.15 According to Gareth Jenkins, a security analyst of Turkish politics, Turkey’s armed forces tended to use a variety of formal and informal means to communicate their preferences to civilian audiences. Jenkins described some approaches used by the military as including: private meetings between leading generals and government ministers and officials, and public pronouncements, either in set speeches or in comments to the media at official functions. Although such comments often appeared spontaneous, they were never personal statements of opinion and had invariably been approved in advance by the chief of staff.16

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In addition to such orchestrated public relations efforts, the military employed other strategies to enhance its influence on society, including timely leaks to friendly media outlets and political parties. Other means to shape public opinion involve cooperative relationships with entrepreneurs who support the status quo. Princeton University’s Niehaus Center fellow Gökçe Göktepe, for example, has criticized the financially and politically rewarding arrangements between members of the secular business elite and the military.17

THE CONSTITUTION AND NATIONAL SECURITY The increasingly assertive tone of the military between 2006 and 2008 reflected a growing concern for domestic security, a view often shared by members of the secular business and judiciary elite. During Büyükanıt’s leadership, the AKP consolidated its power base and the PKK recommitted itself to a broader guerrilla strategy along the border regions. Under these circumstances, it was not surprising that the military identified signs of growing domestic instability as dangerous for the future of the nation. The Turkish General Staff justified its domestic involvement by pointing to mounting national security risks, which it felt needed to be monitored more closely. Yet there also was an inherent weakness in the military’s claim to guardianship over the Kemalist state. Its complete control over how security risks were to be identified, framed, and addressed undermined the armed forces’ capacity to embrace democratization efforts and additional reforms. The Turkish armed forces essentially created and shaped their own national security missions, such as the prevention of territorial disintegration. Often the military benefited from the tacit approval by members of the established secular business elite, which preferred the political and economic status quo. A history of authoritarian political culture and the occasional constitutional breakdown enhanced the military’s ability to assert the right to determine the elected civilian leadership’s level of legitimacy. The high command based its own parameters for the government’s legitimacy on both the 1961 and the 1982 constitutions, which stipulated that the military had the duty to protect the nation from both internal and external threats. Relying on essentially unlawful constitutions, the officer corps legitimized its temporary interventions during past coups. A combination of the secular business elite’s complacency and the weakness of Turkey’s civil society allowed the military to supersede a process of oversight and transparency. While a segment of the nationalist Turkish population shared the view that the military’s unchecked guardianship was necessary, the liberal, leftleaning elite uttered a collective sigh of relief when General Başbuğ replaced General Büyükanıt as the Chief of the General Staff in August 2008. Many

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had tired of General Büyükanıt’s reckless use of threatening language. But others proposed that the military was justified in shielding the country’s secular, Westernizing tradition from growing domestic threats, even if it involved another direct military intervention as in decades past. Nationalist circles, for instance, advanced the argument that article 35 of the Turkish Armed Forces Internal Services Law No. 211 authorized the military to defend the Turkish Republic’s constitution through the use of a coup. Jenkins suggested that “there has been considerable debate about whether article 35 gives the military the right to remove an elected government which is perceived as violating the constitution.”18 The fact that nationalists used this rationale to portray a military intervention as a legal act illustrated that Turkey’s democracy was still unconsolidated in society. Since the Turkish Armed Forces Internal Services Law was invoked following the 1980 military coup, such arguments seemed particularly troubling. Soner Çağaptay, Director of the Turkish Research Program of the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, framed this fundamentally troubling question about the lawfulness of article 35 as an open legal debate among international constitutional scholars. He asserted that: The Turkish military is legally assigned the task of preserving Turkey’s secular constitution. As written into the Turkish laws in 1961, article 35 of the Internal Service Law of the military says that the Turkish Armed Forces is responsible for “guarding and defending the Turkish republic as defined by the constitution.” The military has thrice acted on this legal obligation. In 1960 and 1980, it carried out coups, preventing what it considered constitutional abuse by a majoritarian government in 1960, and ending near civil war in 1980 between communist and nationalist militias and terror groups. In 1971, short of a coup, the military intervened in politics and demanded the resignation of a government unable to check rising domestic violence.19

The debate over article 35 re-emerged in the context of challenges to the AKP’s legitimacy as a governing party. Intervention against the AKP may be justified, it was suggested, if the government failed to uphold the constitution according to interpretations put forward by the armed forces. A Turkish journalist quoted by commentator Burak Bekdil in Turkish Daily News, for example, perceived the AKP government as manipulating vulnerable and uninformed voters. He wondered: “Why would it be the greatest of all sins if the military resorted to undemocratic (but non-violent) practice to defend the constitution . . . ?”20 The easy endorsement of authoritarian measures seemed remarkable since it demonstrated that some members of Turkey’s secular, educated elite embraced a profoundly paternalistic political culture. Yet, at the same time the opinion indicated opposition to a fullfledged military coup in favor of a “gentle” version of a post-modern coup. Did the journalist hope to demonstrate a modern world-view by suggesting that the military refrain from engaging in brutish human rights offenses?

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The armed forces, at least in his paternalistic outlook, would defend the Turkish Republic according to the parameters defined by the constitution. In this view, the military could achieve sophistication by forcing illegitimate governments to resign instead of sending tanks into the streets or engaging in torture, as they had done in the past. Turkey’s constitution clearly requires further review, particularly through extensive parliamentary debates and a transparent process of public engagement. Further constitutional amendments would have to be considered to prevent inherently undemocratic measures from appearing justifiable to influential members of society and interest groups when expedient. Turkey’s parliament and Turkey’s constitutional court, however, face an additional fundamental problem. While the origins of Turkey’s 1982 constitution are controversial, Articles 1, 2, and 3 of the constitution present a challenge because Article 4 makes them irrevocable. The unchangeable provisions relate to the republican, secular, and unitary character of the state. Even complete support by Ankara’s Grand National Assembly for certain amendments would become problematic, since Article 4 states that no amendments may even be proposed in relation to the initial three articles of Turkey’s constitution. The underlying issue is whether an authoritarian constitution with its immutable characteristics ought to be guarded by the military in the face of growing democratic opposition. For the armed forces, the response has been a resounding and unconditional commitment to the irrevocable nature of the articles. Essentially, the military’s position and approach to influencing public policy has not changed significantly in the past decade. But in contrast to his predecessor, General Başbuğ at least offered a more diplomatic communication style, which less openly pressured the civilian government to acquiesce to the military’s preferred policy options. Prime Minister Erdoğan would have favored someone other than Başbuğ as Chief of the General Staff, but politically he was too weak to challenge the military’s established nomination process. Erdoğan clearly preferred a military commander with fewer connections to hard-line nationalist circles. But the AKP prime minister could not afford to pick an alternative candidate and break with the longstanding tradition that permitted the outgoing leader of the armed forces to select his own successor. As a rule, each successor had to have been the commander of the land forces with extensive counter-insurgency experience in the southeastern provinces. For decades, the chiefs of the general staff prided themselves for having gained fierce reputations during campaigns against PKK guerrilla units. The formalized rotation and appointment process served to ensure the military’s perpetual compulsion to focus on eliminating the PKK rather than envisioning an alternative option. Under Başbuğ’s command, the general staff quickly reintroduced the practice of taking care of national security concerns behind closed doors rather than utilizing overt public pressure and official pronouncements to

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shape policy. The style change significantly reshaped the AKP’s standard defensive maneuvers intended to circumvent the military’s pressure. Instead of appealing to the EU to protect the democratically elected civilian government from undue military pressure, the AKP now believed it had to engage with the military leadership behind closed doors. Concerned about a concealed effort to undermine the AKP’s position in the country, the Erdoğan government assumed a national security policy toward the PKK similar to the one endorsed by the military leadership. In contrast to international perceptions, the appointment of the new Chief of the General Staff only confirmed the military leadership’s continued influence on the government. Despite a change in the rhetorical style to using more subtle and indirect pressure, General Başbuğ achieved the same strategic preferences as the high command under General Büyükanıt’s leadership. The armed forces moved away from the standard tools of full military intervention. Instead, the high command embraced the idea of a soft coup or post-modern coup as its measure of last resort, especially in case the AKP veered off an approved path.21 The less direct interventionist technique contradicted an array of increasingly optimistic assessments of Turkey’s ability to reform its institutions. A significant number of reports on the Turkish military had been conducted before both Büyükanıt’s and Başbuğ’s appointments to the highest military command structure. These studies excluded the military’s more recent attempts to implement corrective measures against the Turkish government. For example, the Council on Foreign Relations issued a report in 2006 suggesting that “while Turkey’s transition to democracy is not complete, changes to the Turkish constitution have given Turks greater personal and political freedoms. In this increasingly open environment, public opinion matters more in Turkey’s domestic and foreign policies than ever before.”22 Turkish society clearly had made significant strides toward opening up political space, but the military’s return to influencing public policy invited a growing level of political polarization among opinion leaders in the country. The military leadership seemed compelled to interject its own commentary in a misguided attempt to protect the nation from what they perceived as an inept political class engaged in demagogy and manipulation. The 2007 European Commission report on Turkey’s progress toward accession criticized the armed forces for exerting influence on civilian leaders by stepping up public comment and posting policy positions on its official Web sites, among other problems.23 The 2008 European Commission report reiterated the same level of dissatisfaction with the country’s inadequate progress in this area. The report pointed out that the armed forces have continued to exercise significant political influence via formal and informal mechanisms. Senior members of the armed forces have expressed their opinion on domestic and foreign policy issues going beyond

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their remit, including on Cyprus, the South East, secularism, political parties and other non-military developments. No change has been made to the Turkish Armed Forces Internal Service Law and the Law on the National Security Council. These define the role and duties of the Turkish military and grant the military wide room for manoeuvre by providing a broad definition of national security.24

As in prior years, the 2008 EU report confirmed the military’s deep sense of anxiety and its tendency to interpret political developments as markers of potential chaos. It seemed that little had changed throughout decades of socio-political development in the country. The military continued to argue in favor of its prerogative to identify risks to the Kemalist structures of the state.

MYOPIC LEADERSHIP Turkish society faced an increasingly controlling and repressive political class in 1960 when the military intervened to redirect the country’s civilian leadership. In both 1971 and 1980, the military carried out coups as polarization between right-wing and left-wing groups and extremists seemed to tear the country apart. Since then, the perceived dual challenges of Kurdish separatism and creeping Islamization have preoccupied the military leadership. Following each intervention to “redirect” and “correct” supposedly illadvised and corrupt politicians, the military expanded its direct influence over strategic decision-making processes related to national security concerns. After both the 1960 and 1980 military coups, the armed forces exerted increasing influence over the country’s civilian leadership, permitting it to shape the government’s general policy direction through the creation of the powerful military-dominated National Security Council (NSC). The post-coup constitution of 1961 established the larger purpose and specific role of the NSC and the 1982 military constitution further strengthened it. Only after Turkey and the EU initiated accession negotiations in 2004–2005 did the civilian government manage to convince the military to curtail its voice and influence on the NSC. Between 1982 and 2003 the council consisted of 10 members, five civilian and five military, and the president would reliably vote with the military members to confirm binding decisions on the NSC. Over time the military increased its authority further as it perceived elected government officials to be motivated by populism in the face of serious domestic and international security concerns. The military establishment asserted itself during the PKK’s insurgency in the 1980s, during the 1991 Gulf War, and again because of the 2003 Iraq War. Başbuğ, in his role as Chief of the General Staff, followed a long-standing tradition of weekly meetings with the prime minister and the president to consult on policy concerns. In addition, he evaluated the nation’s security

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risks during NSC meetings every few weeks. The practice of regularly scheduled discussions with government officials elevated the influence of the military’s main branch commanders (those responsible for the land forces, air force, navy, and the gendarmerie and military police) from an advisory role to one that exerted executive authority. To manage the NSC’s agenda, the council’s secretariat became dominated by mid-level military officers who chose key discussion points, which were approved before all meetings. But by 2003 consistent EU pressure led the military and the government to agree to implement institutional reforms that reduced the military’s influence on the NSC and its bureaucratic structure. These reforms increased the number of civilians on the NSC, and limited the role of the military in the secretariat. In addition, the council no longer enjoyed executive powers or monitoring authority over the implementation of policy decisions by the NSC, and its full access to civil institutions was curtailed. In the context of Turkey’s recent history, these reforms appeared to be profound if not revolutionary. This was especially the case considering that in 1992 the Turkish Chief of the General Staff, then General Doğan Güres, had proclaimed proudly that Turkey was a military state.25 Recent interviews with retired members of the high command, including Güres, indicated that such views were no longer tolerable. Today’s counter-insurgency efforts, according to the retired military elite, required more than coercive power, namely the inclusion of socio-economic, diplomatic, and political efforts.26 The fact that the armed forces embraced the 2003 NSC reforms limiting their control over shaping national security policy indicated that as an institution the military favored EU membership for Turkey.27 In many ways, the military considered Turkish membership in the EU essential because it logically followed the decades-long modernization campaign.28 But while signs of willing behavioral change among the military’s officer corps may have been noticeable years ago, domestic and international circumstances changed. Obvious indicators that Turkey’s military embraced further reforms to advance democratization were no longer easily identified. Meanwhile, economic concerns contributed to the EU’s loss of enthusiasm for prodding and pushing Turkey toward reform, and the Turkish military seemed less eager to embrace change. In the face of growing public support for religious parties, along with the resurgence of the PKK, the military preferred to rely on a familiar zero-sum game. Before Başbuğ’s appointment, both active and retired military commanders endorsed the practice of manipulating and intimidating members of the media in the hope of shaping public opinion. Relying on their prestige and confirming their paternalistic guardianship role, military leaders aimed to inoculate civil society against so-called retrogressive, unenlightened, backward, and divisive ideas. The officer corps released public statements and commentaries on policy issues to the media, which exerted

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intense and undue pressure on the government to follow the preferences of the military. While it is readily apparent that the Chief of the General Staff in 2009 no longer enjoys the same executive powers once authorized through the military’s privileged position on the NSC, General Başbuğ continues to meet and consult with the civilian leadership on a regular basis. Such consultations are also standard within liberal democracies, but in Turkey, military consultations tend to reinforce policy themes that the general staff endorse. Selected policies are then shared with ideologically supportive members of the media and bureaucratic forces, when expedient. Morris Janowitz argued in his 1960 study of the U.S. military, The Professional Soldier, that in an authoritarian society—monarchical or authoritarian—to be above politics means that the officer is committed to the status quo. Under democratic theory, the “above politics” formula requires that, in domestic politics, generals and admirals do not attach themselves to political parties or overtly display partisanship. Furthermore, military men are civil servants, so that elected leaders are assured of the military’s partisan neutrality.29

According to Turkish military experts, the country’s high command continues to view itself as charged with holding together a heterogeneous nation by reinforcing a strict adherence to Kemalist ideological tenets. To use Janowitz’s assessment, Turkey’s military demonstrates a commitment to the status quo. To ensure that this task is accomplished continuously, each newly appointed group of high-level officers must always be socialized in a prescribed manner. This pattern has helped the general staff to create a singular, self-replicating class of generals, towering over an institution with a single mindset. Although the military elite is sometimes said to be split between hard-liners and moderates, these factions disagree less about the substance of the military’s core policies than about communication styles. Despite slight divergences of opinion among some of its generals, the Turkish military basically makes decisions as a unitary, rational actor and speaks with one voice.30

In light of such insights, the most important issue for democratization in Turkey is not whether the military’s interpretation of the nation’s threat level is legitimate, exaggerated, or entirely overblown. Instead, the fundamental concern for the country should be if, when, and how the military establishment will be capable of transitioning to a trust-based relationship with civilian forces. The formation of a “self-replicating class of generals” is an obstacle to overcoming rigid adherence to clearly defined core values, especially when this class insists on a system of cyclical and recurring inculcation of the officer corps. The officer corps will fail to reform its behavioral attitudes when the shared outlook conveys a level of cynicism toward the

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political class and members of civil society. These concerns raise valid critiques and are not based on ideological or cultural biases as occasionally proposed by members of Turkey’s intellectual class when confronted with accusations of democratic shortcomings by European public officials. At various times, the officer corps demonstrated its doubts about the trustworthiness of trade unions, non-governmental organizations, or neighborhood groups, and expressed suspicions toward development organizations and faith-based communities. As an institution, the military continues to feel a profound level of discomfort with the growing influence of civil society organizations in Turkey. So far, the high command has provided a consistent if not always convincing response to challengers who suggest that as an institution it is incapable of further reform. The general staff attempts to reassure the nation that no inherent institutional impediments exist to obstruct a reform process, since the armed forces have managed to reinterpret the Kemalist doctrine before.31 The only caveat is that the military itself determines when political circumstances allow for the actual implementation of further reforms. Elected government officials are excluded from the process of establishing the framework conditions to permit such reforms. Despite the obstinacy and inflexibility of the high command and its recent history of coups, Turkey’s military has achieved a higher standard of professionalism in comparison with other transitional democracies. In fact, Turkey’s two conventional coups (1960 and 1980), the so-called coup by memorandum (1971), and its post-modern intervention in 1997 demonstrated a pattern distinct from militaries in developing countries, according to Nil Şatana from Bilkent University. She suggested that Turkey’s coups: were a result of the military’s perception of internal threats as threats against the very existence of the nation. Contrary to power-seeking militaries of Latin America, the ultimate goal of the Turkish military was not to stay in power but to bring order and Kemalist democracy to the country that ‘incompetent’ civilian governments could not achieve.32

Şatana accurately implied that many Latin American militaries demonstrated predatory behavior, as in the case of Brazil in 1964, which led to 20 years of military dictatorship. Other Latin American examples include Peru’s 1968 military coup and Argentina’s military ascendance in 1976, which launched the Dirty War. Latin American militaries have had a pattern of remaining in power for extended periods, which stands in contrast to the conduct of the more professionalized Turkish military. Turkey’s high command removed itself from governing after taking corrective action against civilian political leaders and civic organizations they had classified as insufficiently enlightened or overly radical. Yet a profoundly troubling idea continues to emerge in Turkey: That it is a sign of professionalization when the military is reluctant to quickly and extensively involve itself in

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the political affairs of governing. A reluctant intervention certainly does not indicate a higher potential for democratization in Turkey in comparison with Latin America’s enthusiastic and lasting military interventions. The Turkish military’s conduct should not be classified as entirely predatory, but as an institution that is exceedingly preoccupied with the duty to defend the nation-state against Islamist and separatist influences. This compulsion identifies the Turkish military as an institution that is paternalistic in outlook and unwilling to place complete trust in an emerging civil society. A fully professionalized military educates its officer class to serve the interests of society and the state. It strives to reduce the level of politicization in the institution and to integrate higher-order capabilities to encourage innovation, adaptability, and application of abstract principles among the leadership. But Turkey’s military should be characterized as only quasiprofessionalized at this stage. Its emphasis on ideological indoctrination and training to maintain social controls results in a lesser degree of depoliticization and a diminished understanding of subordination to civilian controls. Turkey’s armed forces continue to identify and frame potential risk factors according to self-defined and unchanging parameters. The military’s impulse to manage a constantly fluctuating array of threats in a prescribed manner has obstructed its capacity to reform itself fully. For a country that hopes to make significant progress toward EU accession, clearer steps must be taken to demonstrate the Turkish military’s ability to carry out significant structural reforms. This is especially the case in the areas of civilian oversight and the need for improved budgetary transparency. In a fully consolidated democracy, which is the implied national objective of Turkey’s longstanding modernization campaigns, the military has to withdraw from independently identifying and addressing domestic security risks. The civilian government of a consolidated democracy is charged with decisionmaking related to such threats, rather than the military. Undeniably, a profound fear exists among members of the Turkish military establishment (as well as the secular bureaucracy and the judicial apparatus) that lifting the military’s stabilizing controls in the country would lead to socio-political chaos and the potential dismemberment of the state. So far, every time the military intervened in the nation’s governing affairs, it argued that its concern for the nation’s future is what motivated its conduct. Restrictions on media outlets and freedom of expression have been justified through paternalistic explanations, including that the military is looking out for the interests of the entire nation. In Şatana’s carefully constructed study on the quality of the democratic consolidation process in Turkey and the role of the military in society, she proposed, “most Turkish people believe democracy to be the best form of government. Thus, the attitudinal dimension of consolidation is fulfilled. The constitutional dimension is under way because of the EU membership efforts. Still in progress are the behavioral

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changes for a deepening of democracy.”33 It is this aspect of an increasingly lethargic and apparent deceleration of behavioral changes among Turkish power brokers that has caused concern in consecutive EU progress reports.34 Clearly, European and U.S. officials harbor some nagging doubts about Turkey’s willingness and ability to enforce substantive military reforms. A considerable obstacle appears to be the rather stubborn and oppositional mentality of the officer corps, which may turn out to be a serious barrier to keeping EU-Turkey accession negotiations on track in the coming years. Europe is disinclined to take seriously the Turkish military’s assertion that as a highly respected institution in Turkish society it is trustworthy and accountable to the interests of the nation. To the dismay of European observers, the military continues to assert that it does not need elected public officials or civil society to provide a higher level of oversight.

MILITARY SOCIALIZATION As an institution, the military has enjoyed a high level of respect, support, and popularity in Turkey, despite its history of repeated meddling in civilian affairs.35 Under Atatürk’s forceful guidance the armed forces literally rescued the nation from foreign occupation and prevented its partition during the war of independence (1919–1923), and as a modernizing institution, it operated free of the corrupting influences that engulfed the political class. Equally important is the fact that the armed forces traditionally offered a career path based on a system of merit rather than on class privilege or social connections.36 Men from modest backgrounds joined the ranks of the Turkish military to gain access to an education. They enjoyed the benefits of a reliable income and attained the social respect linked to a professional military career. Such opportunities for personal achievement continue to appeal to young Turkish men today as military “recruits from among the lower middle classes [ . . . ] see the institution as a means of upward mobility.”37 In addition to the appeal of the professional military track, the Turkish armed forces have relied on male conscription to strengthen the bond between the secular state’s institutions and the larger population. The military’s ability to interact with nearly every male for generations has made it possible to imbue Kemalist values throughout all layers of society. “Every Turk is born a soldier” is the phrase the military establishment puts forward to shape the image of the self-reliant Turkish nation-state. The strength of Turkey’s armed forces is legendary, and the courage and endurance of the Turkish infantry has been respected for centuries. In fact, Turkey’s military apparatus is one of the largest within the structures of NATO, which significantly adds to the organization’s readiness and effectiveness levels.

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Turkey contributes a combined force of about one million troops, including its reserve units. Traditionally, Turkey’s armed forces have been ranked in the top 12 militaries in the world since the end of the Cold War.38 To maintain its societal influence Turkey’s military has relied on conscription, guaranteeing its ability to homogenize the population culturally and politically. The inculcation of male conscripts with values such as clearly defined parameters for patriotism and national unity reinforced a robust and unified nation-state concept. During military-education and training segments, young Turkish recruits from all walks of life become exposed to nationalist themes through the use of documentaries, video clips, and reading assignments that affirm prescribed national values. While Turkish schools regularly use patriotic materials to reinforce national unity, military-education efforts intensify this pattern. The military’s educational model aims to produce the social behaviors considered to be essential for membership in the Turkish state: paternal secularism, obedience, and respect for authority. In essence, the Turkish military has been engaged in a massive effort to “domesticate” every male Turk for a system that rejects open religiosity and the display of ethnic affiliations. To produce and disseminate the prescribed national culture, the military superimposed values in a process of political socialization they expected to overcome ethnic and religious differences. Over time, the military’s educational and “civilizing” mechanisms succeeded in diminishing, or at least marginalizing, regional and tribal bonds, as well as the influence of minority languages and dialects, and the display of minority religious affiliations.39 A visit to Istanbul’s historic military museum (Askeri Müze) offers a glimpse into the military’s commitment to educating the public about its formative role in Turkish society. For anyone interested in the Kurdish conflict, the museum’s most revealing exhibit is a space dedicated to military heroes and the victims of terrorism. Among the compelling displays are photographs that show the twisted bodies of peasant women and children who were casualties of horrific acts of violence perpetrated by members of the PKK. Visitors also encounter a display of bloodied uniforms next to the images of fallen soldiers, and can view several book-length volumes that list the names of Turkish soldiers who perished in combat with the PKK. It is hard to deny the powerful messages conveyed in the exhibit. The displays effectively evoke emotions of anger, revulsion, and sadness, and convincingly portray the Kemalist state as engaged in an act of self-defense against a vicious attacker. In many ways, the armed forces’ modernization efforts produced impressive results in Turkey. Yet, as an institution, the military never succeeded in surmounting existent ethnic and religious divisions in society. At times, the military overreached because of its rigid adherence to Kemalism, and contributed to discord and fractures in the country. The goal of constructing

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a unified and state-centric Turkish national culture failed to discourage and eliminate Kurdish nationalist sentiments. Instead, it invigorated militant Kurdish resistance to state penetration in the southeastern provinces. Within the military, and especially the officer corps, promotion to high rank and critical leadership positions requires socialization as loyal Kemalists. A hardening of Kurdish nationalist sentiments and the intensive focus of the military to produce loyal Turks led to ferocious battles between state forces and the PKK from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s, and renewed guerrilla violence since 2004. In addition, recent protest gatherings organized by members of Muslim minority communities such as the Alevis reveal that the military’s aim to reduce and suppress religious identities has not succeeded. In June 2009, leaders of Turkey’s Alevi communities released a list of demands that contextualized the ongoing tensions between the Sunni Muslim majority in the country and its Alevi minority. Among the demands raised by Alevis is the legalization of cem prayer houses so that the minority’s distinct places of worship will achieve equal legal standing and the same protections as mosques, churches, and synagogues in Turkey.40 Moreover, Alevi leaders demand that the government refrain from building mosques in Alevi communities in order to reduce social tensions and religious pressure, and that state-sponsored religious education courses no longer be compulsory for Alevi children. Alevis also expect that the Madimak Hotel in Sivas, the site of a horrific firebombing attack on Alevi intellectuals and artists by a mob of Sunni radicals, be turned into a permanent exhibit and museum to memorialize the disturbing events.41 Other minorities in Turkey—such as the Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Laz, and Roma, who often serve more reluctantly in the armed forces,—continue to demand full recognition and enhanced communal rights to achieve socio-political equality in the country. Despite the military’s strong commitment to garnering political, cultural, and social benefits from the practice of male inculcation through conscription, this longstanding tradition faces some challenges. As part of an effort by the officer corps to further professionalize the Turkish armed forces the use of conscription and the assignment of conscripts to commando units are under review. Defense News reported that Turkey’s high command decided to end the practice of assigning conscripts to commando units that confront PKK guerrillas in the southeastern provinces by the end of 2009.42 But it appears that the military is reluctant to abandon the long-standing practice of general male conscription. The armed forces continue to claim that there is a high need for draftees to properly secure the nation’s borders, and that no adequate alternative options for military service exist, since Turkey does not recognize the legitimacy of conscientious objection. The high command argues that male citizens should undergo military training as part of their national duty to the state. Turkey’s minister of defense

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Vecdi Gönül announced in March 2009 that a total of 14,306,525 males are required to sign up for military service, but that about 1 million men either had postponed their service for educational or personal reasons, or were listed as draft dodgers.43 Economic considerations also play a role; it is usually more costly to sustain a professional army than a conscripted force. The Turkish military also views its ability to socialize male conscripts as vital during times of economic difficulty or instability. The draft system allows the military to assess and respond to specific public concerns according to its parameters. Avoiding conscription is a criminal act in Turkey, and draft evasion is punishable with arrest, imprisonment, or the denial of a passport for Turkish citizens who live abroad. The military’s influence on socializing males and shaping Turkish society to embrace a culture of paternalism, nationalism, obedience, and respect for authority elucidates how the armed forces have avoided significant exposure to public criticism. Turkey’s armed forces consistently emphasized a fundamental code intended to reinforce an overarching mission; namely the effort to guard the nation from anti-modern influences perceived to include religious and ethnic activism, and nostalgic notions about Ottomanism.44 This code has kept the Turkish officer corps from lengthy involvement in the affairs of government following a series of coup d’états. The conduct of Turkey’s high command contrasts with many Latin American militaries, which relied on techniques of extreme repression to assert continuous political domination. Singularly focused on amassing political power and economic control, El Salvador’s officer corps, for example, felt entitled to amass wealth by controlling the highest public office between the 1930s and the 1970s. El Salvador’s military caused the country to spiral out of control, which led to a horrific internal war. In Turkey, the military tended to retreat to the barracks quite quickly after an intervention, and officially supported the return of a civilian government. In contrast to El Salvador, Turkey has been spared the consequences of a full-fledged internal war, with the exception of the southeastern provinces that experienced horrendous levels of violence throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Turkey’s armed forces managed to escape popular criticism because the military did not represent the face of government for long periods. Instead, Turkey’s population focused on the inadequacies of civilian actors and institutions, which often appeared ill equipped and weak in moments of need. In the 1960s and the 1970s civilian governments failed to manage disloyal and hostile opposition groups and reacted slowly to rising unemployment. Traditionally, civilian leaders have been held responsible for economic mismanagement and political instability while the military presented itself as a force that could be relied on to stabilize the Turkish nation during a crisis. The military, therefore, reinforced patterns of paternalism and dependency among Turkish citizens instead of political empowerment and democratization. The military’s carefully cultivated national ethos,

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reinforced by male conscription, only enhanced their image as the one reliable institution capable of rescuing the nation when civilian power holders failed. According to Steven Cook, Senior Fellow at The Council on Foreign Relations, the Turkish military has remained “above reproach” because the “presence of institutions resembling a democratic polity effectively shields them from any public dissatisfaction.”45 Some retired officers, including former Commander of the Navy, Admiral Salim Dervişoğlu, expressed regret that Turkish society lacked what the armed forces considered an appropriate level of democracy.46 In many ways, members of the high command engaged in a circular argument. As long as the armed forces perceived Turkey’s democracy to be insufficient, civil society and the political class could not be trusted. But since politicians and civil leaders required supervision by the military, the country’s democratic maturing process failed to take place. This web has created a high level of dependency within all bureaucratic structures of Turkish society. However, during 2007 and 2008, even the popular and highly respected military was exposed to a series of negative assessments in the media. A growing number of reports had been published criticizing the conduct of officers in the Turkish armed forces, even though there were severe restrictions in place regarding reports on military affairs. Newspapers such as the liberal Taraf and Radikal exposed the military’s failures to analyze intelligence warnings and properly assess satellite images that could have prevented the deaths of soldiers from PKK assaults. Stories emerged accusing the commanding officer of the Turkish air force, General Aydoğan Babaoğlu, of continuing a round of golf on a newly constructed, military-only golf course near the resort town of Antalya, while 17 soldiers—most of them conscripts—died in a battle with the PKK at the Aktütün outpost just four miles from the Iraqi border.47 Trying to protect itself from negative media reports, the military pursued legal measures that banned detailed reporting on tactical decisions and the publication of satellite images. But accounts of military incompetence in combination with accusations of elitism and callousness fueled a frenzied interest among the public.48 The entire incident turned into a public-relations disaster for the military because of the general’s apparent callous disinterest in the fate of conscripts. Despite efforts to restrict the dissemination of information about Aktütün and the golf-playing general, the criticism continued. Newspapers displayed photos of the general in neatly pressed and expensive designer clothes on the golf course, enjoying himself after being informed about the casualty figures.49 Many journals and magazines, as well as bloggers, published scathing critiques of the military’s strategic failures in online editions both in Turkey and abroad. The high command desperately wanted to overcome the damage that the devastating coverage had caused to the military’s credibility, but it struggled to re-establish a more respectful relationship with the media. Members of the officer class felt the media had

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exacerbated the problem, and they blamed hostile liberal sources, especially Radikal and Taraf. Since these incidents in 2008, the military has continued to find it impossible to curtail growing public criticism. When the newspaper Taraf published a series of reports in June 2009 that suggested the high command had developed detailed plans to carry out a soft coup against the government and the religious Gülen movement, General Başbuğ’s tone became more threatening. A military court established an immediate publication and broadcasting ban to constrain the newspaper.50 Several of its staff writers were arrested and faced trials and imprisonment for having suggested that the military intended to undermine and defame the Turkish government. In response, the newspaper questioned the legality of the military court’s ruling, and a fierce legal battle between the newspaper and the military began. The relationship between the media, the AKP government, and the armed forces deteriorated further when the AKP government filed a criminal complaint with the state’s chief prosecutor against the general staff for undermining the civilian government. General Başbuğ’s reaction was stern as he suggested that forces attempting to undermine the reputation of the military were at work by spreading rumors about coups. “As the commander of the Turkish Armed Forces, I say this clearly: Take your hands off the army. Put an end to the asymmetrical psychological operations carried out via the media.”51 While the Turkish public paid close attention to reports that accused the military of having plotted against the government, accounts that detailed the poor treatment of conscripts seemed of less interest. But a growing number of families whose sons underwent traumatic experiences in the military were beginning to assert their demands for change. For more than a decade English, German, French, and Dutch language publications circulated reports that pointed to a lack of respect for human life among so-called special commando units in the military. Eyewitnesses described the torture of conscientious objectors in military prisons, criticized the practice of assigning poorly trained conscripts to fight experienced PKK units, and accused the military of unresponsiveness to requests for improved security at outposts along the Iraqi border.52 Reportedly, the outpost at Aktütün had been attacked some 38 times in the past 20 years, leaving many suspicious about the military’s apparent inability to secure the location, the implication being that there were insidious reasons for exposing conscripts to such dangers.53

THE TROUBLE WITH CONSCRIPTION On any given day, news stories and personal accounts about dreadful experiences in the Turkish military circulated in the European press. Most powerful, however, was the release of a collection of personal testimonies by Turkish soldiers in 1998. Journalist and feminist peace activist Nadire

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Mater interviewed more than 40 former conscripts who willingly described their experiences and ordeals while serving in the southeastern provinces. The English translation of the book appeared in 2005 under the title Voices from the Front: Turkish Soldiers on the War with the Kurdish Guerrillas.54 For the first time, broad sectors of Turkish society were introduced to personal accounts that detailed the brutality of the war in the southeastern provinces. Among the soldiers’ stories shared by Mater are those of an ethnic Greek, an Armenian, and a Roma soldier in the Turkish army, as well as several ethnic Kurdish soldiers’ perspectives. Many Turkish families learned for the first time about the lasting emotional trauma from what soldiers called “fighting the terrorists” and “being martyred” in the defense of the nation when they read the collection of testimonies.55 For years, one of the more controversial topics in the Turkish public’s consciousness had been the conscription of young men to fight the PKK. Article 72 of the Constitution of the Turkish Republic required that every male citizen “has the right and the duty to serve in the military or in public service as regulated by law,” making it a compulsory requirement for nearly all males to serve in the armed forces for a period of between 6 and 15 months.56 The length of service was determined by the conscript’s educational level, granting shorter time periods to university educated men, usually between 6 and 12 months, rather than the full 15-month-long conscription period. According to a report issued by NATO on military personnel in Turkey, “those who have less than a 4-year university education have to serve 15 months as long-term conscripts. Conscripts to 15 months service undergo a 3-month basic and branch training and then are distributed to the troops.”57 The practice of randomly assigning draftees to the troops in the field created significant discomfort among segments of the civilian population. This was particularly the case when fresh conscripts received assignments to serve in the southeastern region to fight experienced PKK guerrillas. The short periods of training for drafted soldiers contributed to a serious lack of combat preparedness, and an inability to use and maintain advanced weapons and communications systems in the field. Also, for less educated, economically underprivileged, and marginalized men, randomly assigning troops to combat zones gave rise to many grievances. They tended to serve for longer periods of time and faced higher rates of injury and death. Dozens of Turkish soldiers killed in high profile battles with the PKK between 2007 and 2008 belonged to this very category of inexperienced conscripts. But grievances related to assigning poorly trained draftees to dangerous outposts had been raised already many years earlier. Nadire Mater interviewed a former soldier who pointed to inequitable practices stating, “I never saw the son of a rich person there. They just send the sons of the poor to this region. There were many soldiers who were protesting this when I was there. They used to ask where the rich kids were, and I thought they were right in asking this question!”58

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In part, this explains the profound rage expressed by family members who lost young men in battles with the PKK. Most often families blamed the PKK for their loss because it was socially unacceptable to criticize the military. At the same time, the deaths of conscripts enhanced anti-PKK and Turkish nationalist sentiments, which tended to be strongly expressed during funeral processions. Led by high profile government officials and representatives of the military, including the chief of the general staff, funerals served to unite the majority of the country’s population behind a campaign “to eradicate the killers of innocent young soldiers.”59 Another significant complication with conscription related to the issue of ethnicity, since some Kurdish conscripts had been assigned to fight against their ethnic brethren drafted by the PKK.60 At times, this dynamic contributed to insecurity among Turkish units because they felt unsure of their peers’ loyalty whenever they suspected Kurdish roots and Kurdish nationalist or separatist sentiments. In response to the general sense of insecurity, some Kurdish families sent one son to serve in the Turkish army while another joined the ranks of the PKK. This arrangement provided rural families in a hostile environment with an assurance that neither side would classify family members as collaborators with the enemy automatically, as long as the identity of the other son was not revealed. Traditionally, the Turkish military has avoided assigning conscripts to their regions of origin, but as many Kurdish families left or forcibly were displaced during the fierce fighting between the PKK and the military in the 1980s and 1990s, a growing number of young Kurdish men went to live in other parts of the country. This made it increasingly possible for ethnic Kurds to be assigned to military duty in the volatile southeastern provinces. Amnesty International reported extensively during the 1990s about human rights violations experienced by Kurdish conscripts, some of whom applied for asylum abroad, while others faced torture and death. For instance, a young man named Zeki Imen from the predominantly Kurdish Bitlis province was assigned to military service in the region of Diyarbakir, but was denied the use of a weapon after it became clear that he opposed fighting against Kurds. His family received official notification that he had been killed in action, and when the body arrived for the funeral, it showed multiple gunshot wounds. The military provided contradictory and sometimes implausible explanations for his death, ranging from suicide to involvement in an armed clash. The family wondered how these explanations by the military could be considered accurate since Imen had been denied the use of a weapon.61 Even though the military was aware that public criticism increased when large numbers of conscripts were assigned to the southeastern provinces, it prioritized the struggle against insurgents over negative publicity. Only recently did the Turkish high command agree that some of the criticisms raised by families of draftees, members of the media, and Turkish research institutions had been justified. For example, the use of conscripts against PKK guerrillas had been less effective than officially acknowledged in the

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past. Since draftees were more lightly armed and less experienced than professional troops, it was not surprising that security analysts in Turkey criticized this practice. In 2007, Turkish terrorism expert and president of the International Strategic Research Organization (ISRO/USAK) Sedat Laçiner stated that “90 percent of those sent to fight against the PKK are privates and enlisted specialists. In other words they are conscripts. Almost none of them have been trained in the fight against terrorism.”62 For years, military and counter-insurgency experts had called on the Turkish armed forces to professionalize its counter-insurgency operations by expanding the training and recruitment of specialized forces. In particular, Turkey needed further emphasis on elite forces such as airborne and commando units. By the beginning of 2008, the Turkish military finally supported the formation of six professional commando units that would be charged with confronting the PKK. Veteran commandos, the military announced, would consist of 10,000 troops and were expected to fully engage with PKK units by the end of 2009.63 The Turkish military believed that this step would present a serious strategic challenge to PKK guerrilla encampments in the mountains of Iraq. But critics wondered if this approach would drive some of the guerrilla forces into urban hiding places to create a new type of challenge as the PKK looked for a way to assert its relevancy. So far, the formation of the Turkish commando units has not resulted in increased pressure on the PKK. Domestically, the Turkish military suppressed information that exposed unflattering results in its effort to eliminate the PKK, but on the international level, it could not control the dissemination of observations, critiques, and ideas. Turkish citizens who permanently reside outside of Turkey have shared extensively their personal experiences with the Turkish military establishment. Germany alone estimates that 2.5 million of its residents identify themselves as either ethnically Turkish or Kurdish, and they tend to pay close attention to political developments in Turkey. Some migrated to Germany seeking employment, while others arrived as refugees in the 1970s and 1980s. But many young ethnic Turks and Kurds in Germany are German-born and display cultural patterns that are identified as typically German among citizens in Turkey. They speak German more fluently than Turkish, for example. This pattern explains the frequent use of the Turkish term almancilar (the Germans), a negative term for German citizens or residents of Turkish/Kurdish ancestry. So-called almancilar live and work abroad in Western Europe, often carry Turkish passports, and they regularly serve in the Turkish army, because it remains a requirement for Turkish citizenship. Some foreign-born ethnic Turks (and Kurds) look to reconnect with their cultural heritage in Turkey or hope to demonstrate national loyalty, while others consider living in Turkey for a period of time. Many also want to be able to inherit property from relatives, which is only possible with

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valid Turkish citizenship status. The vast majority of foreign-born ethnic Turks and Kurds try to avoid legal problems related to accusations of draft dodging, and many serve for a short period in the military. But in contrast to Turkish citizens who were born in Turkey or have resided all their lives in Turkey, émigré or diaspora Turks belong to a special class of privileged conscripts. Most diaspora conscripts return to Germany (or Austria, Belgium, the Netherlands) after completing a shortened military service, and they tend to provide dramatic accounts of their experiences to family, friends, and community members. Since it is in the interest of the Turkish government that their stories reflect positively on Turkey’s modernity and Western orientation, diaspora conscripts experience a less rigorous training environment than domestic conscripts and recruits. In fact, Turkey offers a special arrangement for diaspora Turkish draftees by providing a gentler experience with conscription, although the service is not entirely benign. Diaspora draftees serve three weeks rather than the standard 6 to 15 months to fulfill the requirement of military service and they always avoid an assignment of active duty, especially along the southeastern border regions. However, this privilege is linked to a “special fee” of about €5,000 to cover expenses incurred by the military. In exchange for the fee, diaspora Turks and Kurds continue to be able to access Turkish citizenship, while the Turkish government, and in particular the military, enjoy a tremendous financial benefit. In addition, the armed forces manage to, at least partially, inculcate members of the diaspora community, which counteracts potential anti-Kemalist sentiments that recruits could have developed abroad. This arrangement is a patently corrupt practice and clearly needs to end. As a matter of common practice, diaspora Turks consult with each other about what to expect during their shortened military service by speaking with experienced siblings and friends, and by joining online discussion forums. In a typical online conversation, one person commented on the Turkish military’s assignment for Turks who live abroad. He described the assignment as “3 weeks to a place called Burdur. This is the so-called ‘Bedelli Askerlik’ [shortened military service linked to a payment]. There are people from all around the world there and some of them don’t even speak Turkish. You shoot only once with a rifle (usually 3–4 bullets). . . . Of course, it’s still the army, but they treat you well and they don’t want that anybody gets hurt.”64 Although there is general awareness of such arrangements for diaspora Turkish conscripts in larger Turkish society, few public discussions focus on the shorter service as a double standard that benefits those who can pay the fee. While Turkish citizens may consider the arrangement unjust, the military establishment advances such policy choices without parliamentary discussions or consulting the public. Nevertheless, elite privilege and the social injustice for those who are less educated and economically disadvantaged shape private discussions on conscription in Turkey.

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AKP voters, for instance, make up a significant portion of those men who must serve the full 15-month conscription period. Discussions online among young Turks in Europe, as well as essays posted by leftist intellectuals advancing critical positions on radical Web sites and in papers, indicate that military service for diaspora Turks is a topic of interest. The language of some European postings conveys a sense of deep indignation as the short term military service fee is likened to a “ransom,” “head-money,” or a “bounty.”65 One diaspora Turk, perhaps an ethnic Kurd, posted on a German site that the military labels Kurds as “sözde vatandaslar,” which translates to “alleged Turkish citizens.” The person who posted the comment suggested that Kurds are humiliated by the requirement to have to serve in the Turkish military, yet he also stated that if Kurds hoped to travel to Turkey to visit with relatives that they had no choice but to comply.66 A particularly well-known personal account of an almanci, a GermanTurk serving in the Turkish army, is Ibrahim Kepenek’s book Rühr Dich, Kanake.67 The provocative title of the book translates to Move It, Darkie; Kanake is a derogatory German term for brown-skinned foreigners or immigrants in Germany. The author describes his experience as an inept soldier who undergoes basic training at 37, where he meets other diaspora Turks and Kurds who appear to be equally unfit for military service. As one of the more widely read and quirky accounts of a short stint in the Turkish military, Kepenek helped disseminate information about the idiosyncrasies and disturbing patterns of abuse and ideological inculcation in the Turkish military. Kepenek’s account ridicules the tedious military routines and exposes torturous practices such as assigning new recruits pairs of boots that are too small in order to hurt and humiliate them during marching exercises. Throughout his three-week stint, Kepenek interacts with representatives of the ultra-nationalist or fascist Grey Wolves, and he learns that the Turkish military obscures information about the treatment of Armenians in endless viewings of nationalistic films. He also observes recruits, who are apparently members of drug cartels, dealing drugs in the barracks to professional soldiers. For a larger European readership, Kepenek effectively confirms that the Turkish military requires further reforms before the country can be taken seriously as a potential member state in the EU. Discussions led by organizations that aid war resisters, conscientious objectors, and members of the gay/transgender communities also provide important insights into fears expressed by Turkish and Kurdish diaspora members. The Turkish armed forces consider military service compulsory and do not grant a civil service option to conscientious objectors. In online discussion forums members of the diaspora community express anxiety that if they fail to report for military service between the ages of 18 and 45, they will be arrested at Turkish border crossings for draft dodging. Such an arrest can be followed up with forced military service for a full 15 months,

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or if the men are too old for regular conscription, their passports might not be renewed. This would render a person indefinitely stateless (unless one gains access to citizenship elsewhere), unable to travel internationally, unable to visit relatives in Turkey, and ineligible to inherit property in Turkey.

DEEP STATE While negative stories about the treatment of conscripts are an irritant to the general staff, the most damaging development for the military’s reputation has been the constant worldwide reporting on Turkey’s so-called “deep state.”68 This term originally described a secret counter-guerrilla organization established in the 1950s to undermine the influence of communism in Turkey. Today it is broadly perceived as a dangerous anti-democratic force that is attempting to strengthen the influence of secular ultranationalist groups in Turkey. In particular, the country has been riveted by a trial known as “Ergenekon” in which those accused of participating in a secret, conspiratorial network are prosecuted by the state.69 In this trial and several others related to alleged plots, over 200 individuals ranging from retired military leaders to opinion makers in the media and in academia have been arrested and interrogated. In March 2010, high-level retired members of the military were detained after they were accused of plotting against the government in “Operation Sledgehammer.” Three influential members of the armed forces, including former deputy chief of the general staff Ergin Saygun, former air force commander General Ibrahim Firtina, and former naval commander Admiral Özden Örnek, stand accused of belonging to a military-criminal organization that planned to overthrow the AKP government. The intended coup was going to involve bombing campaigns targeting civilians, and responsibility for the bombings was to be blamed on Islamists or separatists, which would then justify a military intervention.70 Other information hinted at plans to create a major international incident with Greece to gain public support for a military coup. What has emerged in a series of indictments and thousands of pages of documentation since 2008 is information suggesting that military officers kept weapons caches hidden in secret locations and that ultra-nationalists have been involved in urban terror bombings during the past decades.71 It also appears that members of this group assassinated ideological opponents or public figures to create a sense of insecurity among the public. Leftist groups and especially advocates of the AKP government believe that participants in deep-state operations include personnel from the military, the intelligence services, and also from organized crime circles. According to Today’s Zaman, a newspaper that is close to the AKP, “revelations emanating from the investigation thus far have shown that many of the attacks

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attributed to separatist [PKK] or Islamist groups or seen as hate crimes against minorities were actually ‘inside jobs.’ ”72 But a number of secular critics contend that the evidence provided by the government against supposed members of the deep state is weak or even fabricated. They suggest that a “witch-hunt” is underway to intimidate and silence the secular Kemalist elite.73 In fact, the government’s specific terrorism charges that were raised in the Ergenekon and “Operation Sledgehammer” trials have given the government authority to create special courts to which the interior ministry appoints judges and state prosecutors. As of August 2010 none of the trials had concluded or resulted in a conviction. Ultra-nationalists claim that the trials are politically motivated. They defend the military and draw a parallel between the Russian government’s intimidation tactics against opponents and the Erdoğan government’s approach to silencing its critics. Russia, they assert, effectively eliminated former oligarch Mikhail Khodorkovsky once he criticized Putin’s managed democracy. In Turkey, the AKP has pursued aggressive and questionable legal recourse to silence media critics. Khodorkovsky had accused the Russian state of granting too much influence to the security services, but then he ended up in jail on fraud and tax evasion charges. The Erdoğan government appears to use similar tactics by trying to bankrupt Turkey’s largest media corporation, Doğan Holding, for its critical reporting on the AKP. The Turkish Finance Ministry imposed a fine of $2.5 billion on the media conglomerate, ostensibly for unpaid taxes, but the fine came after the publication of information related to scandals within the AKP government, followed by accusations that the AKP hoped to introduce Islam into public life. In response to international criticism to the excessive and apparently retributive fine, Erdoğan stated “I believe it is not right to mistake the routine works of the state agencies with freedom of press.”74 But the EU and The Organization of Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) openly condemned the fine as “a threat to media freedom.”75 While conspiracy theories abound in Turkey, linkages between secular Turkish public officials, military circles, and criminal gangs have been confirmed since the Susurluk scandal in 1996. At that time, the Deputy Chief of Istanbul’s police, the leader of the ultra-nationalist (also described as neofascist) Grey Wolves, and a member of the Turkish mafia died in a car crash together. The lone survivor of the crash was a parliamentarian and leader of the self-defense village guards, known to have close ties to the military.76 Among the items found in the wrecked car were police identity cards, diplomatic credentials, large sums of cash, and automatic weapons with silencers.77 Analysts have proposed that most of the participants in the Susurluk scandal escaped a proper trial because military circles managed to protect their connections. But the reappearance in the Ergenekon trial of several criminals involved in the Susurluk scandal shows that the truth has yet to be disclosed. Many Turks believe that the “darkest chapter in what remains

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the largely untold story of Turkey’s war against the PKK” will emerge in the coming years.78 Security expert Gareth Jenkins argued that the once-absurd notion that the Turkish “government could be recruiting Mafia hit men, running death squads and releasing convicted terrorists to conduct extrajudicial executions,” now seemed to be an irrefutable reality. 79 Placing such observations into context, it is not at all surprising that the military’s high command and the AKP government continue to threaten each other with litigation in this lengthy chess match. So far, it looks like the military has lost some credibility and now engages in a struggle to defend its dominant influence on Turkish society. Benjamin Ward, associate Europe and Central Asia director of Human Rights Watch, stated “this case gives Turkey a chance to make clear that it will hold security forces accountable for abuse. But that can only happen if the investigation follows the evidence wherever—and to whomever—it leads.”80 Such investigation would have to include a full accounting of a series of deadly bomb blasts that took place in 2005 in the Kurdish town of Şemdinli in the province of Hakkari. Initially PKK elements had been blamed for the murderous explosions, but then a suspected bomber was caught by a group of bystanders who saw the man rushing out of a bookstore before it exploded. The man feared for his life after his capture by locals and shouted that he was a police officer. Shortly thereafter, General Büyükanıt, then the commander of the land forces, remarked that he knew the alleged bomber and that he was “a good boy.” The owner of the bookstore, Seferi Yilmaz, survived the attack and turned out to have been a former PKK guerrilla member who served a 15-year prison sentence.81 Local police found a car near the bookstore with weapons and a list of names of alleged PKK members to be targeted in the future. A trial took place, but meddling from the military forces marred it. The aggressive local prosecutor, Ferhat Sarikaya, accused General Büyükanıt of involvement with a paramilitary organization in the region, but Sarikaya was silenced through accusations of incompetence, followed by his removal from the case, and his eventual disbarment.82 Initially two military officers had been found guilty in the bombing and were sentenced to 39 years in jail. But in May 2006, Turkey’s highest appeals court rejected the verdict on procedural grounds and assigned the case to a military court indicating the end of serious prosecution. In light of such events, it is uncertain to what extent the Turkish public can expect a full accounting of criminal activities being investigated in highly politicized proceedings such as the Ergenekon trial. As a modern state intending to consolidate its democracy, Turkey must disentangle its security, intelligence, and military forces from the deepstate apparatus. For example, the involvement of JITEM, Turkey’s sinister Gendarmerie Intelligence and Counterterrorist Service, in arms deals, drug smuggling operations, and killings must be fully disclosed to the public. In 2009, Diyabakır’s 6th High Criminal Court initiated a trial against Colonel

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Cemal Temizöz, former Gendarmerie Regiment Commander of the city of Kayseri, and Kamil Atağ, the former mayor of the city of Cizre, for ordering 22 murders between 1993 and 1996.83 Elements within the security forces also appear to have provided Turkish Hizbullah (in particular the extremely violent Ilim wing of this Sunni Islamist organization) with intelligence on specialized weapons training and targeted assassinations. 84 Certain branches in the Turkish security forces used Ilim as a tool in the fight against PKK militants until the group became a threat to state interests. It will be essential to excavate the activities of JITEM, identify and punish its leaders, and disseminate information about the organization’s activities publicly. Yet, political scientist Michael Gunter cautioned, “the deep state is not a specific organization with a specific leader,” but rather a broader “mentality” believing that Turkey should be an ultra-nationalist and secular nation-state.85 The painful and lengthy process of disclosing the ugliest chapters of Turkey’s counter-insurgency activities clearly requires additional oversight. But the most vital changes that must be implemented immediately are the subordination of the military to the country’s civilian leadership, and a further professionalization of the officer corps. In Turkey, constitutional civilian authorities must assign missions to the military instead of accepting the practice of the military apparatus determining its own missions. Turkey’s military confuses its institutional values, which emphasize secularism, with the overarching national objective. It thereby ignores civilian selfdetermination within what the EU would consider acceptable parameters of democracy. Without a doubt, the cultural transformation of the Turkish armed forces and especially its officer corps will be a complicated and controversial matter. But a more professionally socialized military “is essential to the discipline and subservience that society requires of a capable military force. It is a deliberate set of indoctrination tactics that result in changing how individuals view themselves and their role in society.”86 Experts on military culture caution that socialization can become contaminated when leaders “infuse their own attitudes, values and beliefs into the socialization process as proxies for those that are organizationally sanctioned.” 87 In essence, the Turkish high command has permitted such a contamination to take place, and now promotes ideological messages as officially sanctioned organizational beliefs. For Turkey, further professionalization of the officer corps involves changes to institutional structures, the re-orientation of missions, and advancements in the quality of strategic planning and execution of military operations.88 Military academies must emphasize higher-order capabilities among the officer class to encourage increased innovation and adaptability in the field. Instead of a nationalistic esprit-de-corps that is overly focused on regenerating the adherence to Kemalist principles, the Turkish military

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leadership needs to redefine its professional codes of conduct. Professionalization influences the attitudes of individual military officers and their approaches to decision-making. It would simultaneously bring about a marked reduction in the country’s reliance on the practice of conscription, and break with the military’s tradition of politically inculcating draftees. These changes would reduce the number of losses linked to unprofessional conduct or poor execution of assignments among troops on the ground, and, in particular, in areas where the PKK is active. It is not surprising that Turkey’s military also has experienced a range of problems related to its strategy toward a constantly evolving PKK. To defeat the PKK guerrilla units, a more highly educated Turkish officer corps would need to reduce the bloated size of the armed forces, emphasize troop specialization, and encourage additional technological advancements. With budgets controlled by elected officials, a trimmed down military would focus on improved strategic thinking and planning, and enhance the levels of international military cooperation. Clearly, Turkey has benefited from participation in joint exercises in NATO, but additional standardization of structures would be helpful in the integration of the armed forces into increasingly regionally focused frameworks. Turkey’s military would see significant gains from improved officer education programs and socialization efforts. Such reform measures would also reduce the levels of distrust and antagonism that continue to impede U.S.-Turkish military cooperation. EU public officials and military experts within NATO strongly encourage and even expect these reforms.

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The enemy of the father will never be the friend of the son.1 —Kurdish Proverb

THE IRAQ WAR FALLOUT For Turkey’s high command, the impending U.S. invasion of Iraq in early 2003 provided a perfect opportunity to finish off the remnant structures of the PKK. U.S. pressure had intensified on Turkey’s government to authorize and support an incursion against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq from Turkish territory. Turkey’s armed forces recognized that a ground assault against Iraq would create ideal conditions to defeat the PKK. The prospect of finally vanquishing the guerrilla organization encouraged Turkey’s military to eagerly plan and prepare for a joint U.S.-Turkish cross-border assault. Turkey’s high command envisioned several interconnected advantages for its participation in a ground invasion of northern Iraq. Its armed forces could obliterate PKK encampments, disrupt the organization’s transnational criminal operations, and prevent the formation of a Kurdish state in the region. Turkey’s military also hoped to secure the country’s 238 mile border with the northern Iraqi provinces of Erbil and Dahuk to manage and control the potential spillover from Iraqi Kurdish regional unrest. In November 2002, while the officer corps planned to eliminate the PKK militants, Turkey’s general elections had empowered Prime Minister Erdoğan and the AKP. During the months and weeks leading up to the invasion of Iraq, Turkey’s military experienced a series of profound disappointments on both

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the domestic and the international levels. The Grand National Assembly, Turkey’s parliament, now dominated by the AKP, voted against U.S. requests to access Turkey’s Incirlik Airbase and fly missions during the invasion of Iraq. For Turkey’s military, the parliamentary rejection of the U.S. request to open a second front became a catalyst for several negative events that unfolded between 2003 and 2009: Turkish-U.S.-NATO military relations deteriorated; Kurdish autonomy in northern Iraq became a reality; and Turkey’s foreign policy forged closer relationships with Arab and Muslim neighbors. Turkey’s general staff expressed growing skepticism and mistrust of the country’s AKP leadership. An obsession with both internal and external enemies began to shape the operational thinking of the armed forces. Under these circumstances, the high command showed little enthusiasm for reducing its ability to influence and control domestic policy choices. It also clearly rejected substantial reforms to the practice of drafting and socializing future generations of Turkish soldiers. Further complicating the situation was the growing sense among Turkey’s military leaders that influential European countries disregarded Turkey’s national interests. The high command chafed at Europe’s indifference to Turkey’s border concerns, and its refusal to acknowledge a potential chemical attack orchestrated by Saddam Hussein against Turkey. But the military found it particularly galling that Europe failed to endorse the regional agenda of destroying the PKK. NATO became divided over the U.S. effort to pursue an invasion of Iraq. Turkey’s military encountered a range of problems it never anticipated, especially at a time when Turkey’s civilian leadership pursued the initiation of negotiations over Turkey’s accession to the EU. The military’s preferred plan of attack faced mounting opposition because the Turkish public rejected an invasion of Iraq, Turkey’s parliament refused to endorse U.S. access to Incirlik base, and several European NATO countries tried to score political points by opposing the Iraq invasion. In fact, NATO developed an Atlantic camp that supported the U.S. position, and a French/German camp that rejected the Iraq invasion. The NATO group favoring the invasion consisted of “the UK, Spain, Italy and Portugal [who] joined the USA in its campaign against Iraq [along] with the EU candidate countries in central Europe, such as Poland and the Czech Republic very clearly on that side as well. In response, the French, German, Belgian and Luxembourg governments formed a bloc that was against the use of force in Iraq.”2 Belgium, France, and Germany attempted to use their influence to undermine the U.S. effort that pursued the legitimization of the invasion through NATO. Central European EU candidate countries faced serious criticism for supporting the U.S. invasion. It seemed that Turkey had become a pawn in this power struggle. The country found itself in an awkward position when the French/German bloc vetoed NATO’s authorization to send Airborne Warning and Control Systems planes (AWACS), Patriot missile interceptor batteries, and specialized

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counter-germ warfare and anti-poison gas units to Turkey as part of pre-war preparations.3 While the political manoeuvres were directed at the United States and not at Turkey, the Turkish high command felt compelled to address France and Germany’s disregard of Turkey’s national security interests. To increase pressure on the French/German bloc, Turkey invoked Article 4 of NATO. Article 4 required all parties of the treaty to consult jointly whether Turkey’s territorial integrity, political independence, and security may become threatened in an attack orchestrated by Saddam Hussein. To the deep disappointment of Turkey’s military, the opposing countries continued to reject a vote that would set in motion NATO’s collective defense agreement. Turkey’s high command bristled at the perceived slight from allied countries, but according to political scientists Meltem Müftüler Baç, also avoided “openly backing the US [because that] would have been extremely risky, as Turkey waited for a start date for accession negotiations and France and Germany carry great weight in that decision.”4 Yet from the French/German perspective, their votes simply signaled a refusal to authorize war preparations before U.N. weapons inspectors had an opportunity to report back to the Security Council in New York. The political leadership in France, Belgium, and Germany clearly benefited from their oppositional stance as the option to go to war against Iraq was overwhelmingly rejected by German, French, and Belgian voters. While the political wrangling continued at the UN, Turkey’s high command faced a new reality as plans for a joint invasion into northern Iraq had become entirely irrelevant. Without being able to join a northern front principally led by U.S. forces, the Turkish military had to re-think its strategy to eliminate the PKK. Many of the PKK’s encampments were located 30 or 40 miles inside Iraq and could not be destroyed without the use of ground troops. Within months of the U.S.-led “Operation Iraqi Freedom” marked by an incursion into the southern Basra province from the troop massing-point along the Kuwaiti-Iraqi border, a political vacuum developed in northern Iraq. In the northern Iraqi provinces, irregular Kurdish peshmerga forces supported the invasion of Iraq by driving Hussein’s Arab troops further south. While Iraqi Kurdish peshmerga forces focused on softening resistance to the U.S. invasion, advantageous conditions emerged for the PKK. With the peshmerga forces moving southward, the PKK expanded its control over the mountainous territory along the Turkish-Iraqi border region and practically cordoned it off from other segments of northern Iraq. Neither the U.S. military nor Iraqi Kurds perceived the PKK as an immediate problem. The United States focused on fighting Sunni insurgents in Al-Anbar and Diyala provinces, while Iraqi Kurdish leaders and their peshmerga forces emphasized strengthening regional political power structures. As a result, the PKK fortified its mountain encampment structures and increased its number of active combatants. Individual PKK camps

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tended to supply between 250 and 500 members, but the number of combatants varied significantly depending on the levels of snow fall and the intensity of Turkish air raids.5 By the summer of 2004, PKK guerrilla cadres regularly crossed into Turkey to strike against military installations and outposts, and targeted police stations in townships near border regions. The PKK actively pursued the elimination of government personnel and leaders of local village guards. Diplomatic relations between Kurdish parties in northern Iraq, the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), the Kurdistan Patriotic Union (PUK), and the Turkish government worsened significantly in the early years of the Iraq war. According to Safeen Dizayee, External Relations Director of the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) in Iraq, the region of Iraqi Kurdistan had matured into a legal entity, which contributed to strained relations between northern Iraq and Turkey. He commented that “since 2003, the contacts with Ankara began to see a downhill trend. . . . The fact is that today’s Kurdistan enjoys legal and constitutional status in Iraq.” 6 For Turkey’s high command the nightmare scenario of an assertive Iraqi Kurdistan and a strengthened PKK had become a reality by 2004. Turkey’s military, and by extension the ultra-nationalist segments of Turkish society, felt that the establishment of an independent Kurdish state in northern Iraq was a direct threat to Turkey’s territorial integrity. Kemalists had long feared that Kurdish independence in Iraq would inspire separatist Kurds in Turkey, which in turn would contribute to strengthening the PKK’s popularity. While Kurds in Iraq had not established an independent Kurdish state, they gained a high level of autonomy in post-Saddam Iraq through the formation of the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG). The KRG was not only part of a federal arrangement envisioned for a post-war Iraq, it also received support from the U.S. government. The formerly fractious Kurdish parties, the KDP and the PUK, agreed to collaborate under the umbrella of the KRG to gain political benefits in the region. The new level of cooperation among the Kurdish parties increased Kurdish dominance in northern Iraq and simultaneously marginalized other minority communities. Ethnic groups that attempted to compete for political influence with Kurds, including resettled Shia Arabs, Turkmen, and Assyrian Christians, continued to lose ground. Recognizing an opportunity to undermine the consolidation of power among Iraqi Kurds, Turkey quickly engaged in the political arena by offering increasing levels of aid to Turkmen opposition groups in northern Iraq.7 Despite the Turkish government’s attempt to remain politically involved, Turkish military planners clearly understood that the parameters on the ground had shifted as soon as U.S. forces sought out Iraqi Kurdish peshmerga intelligence networks to help identify and isolate Sunni Arab insurgents. Kurdish leaders in northern Iraq took advantage of their increasing opportunities by working alongside U.S. forces and supporting U.S. interests, which largely overlapped with their own strategic goals. The Turkish high command

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viewed this cooperation between Iraqi Kurdish forces, Iraqi Kurdish government officials, and U.S. military personnel as a direct threat to Turkey. From 2004 to 2007 Iraqi Kurds shared very little intelligence information with Turkey about PKK encampments, guerrilla movements, or impending cross-border operations. The Iraqi KRG started to play a dangerous game by utilizing the PKK’s presence as a potential bargaining chip against Turkey. From the KRG’s perspective, any form of cooperation with the Turkish military against the PKK would have to result in tangible benefits for the Kurdish population of northern Iraq. As long as the Turkish government appeared uninterested in a negotiated arrangement with the KRG, there was no reason to provide intelligence about the PKK; the U.S. military presence would provide protection to Iraqi Kurds and the KRG, and at some point Turkey would have to start bargaining with Iraqi Kurds to resolve the conflict. But the KRG also feared that a Kurdish civil war could break out in the region should Turkish forces try to root out the PKK in an incursion or with the direct assistance of their ethnic Kurdish brethren. A civil war would undermine the U.S.-supported security arrangement in northern Iraq, and thereby weaken the influence of the KRG in relation to other minority groups. Such a result would destroy the political and economic progress the Kurdish population had experienced between 2003 and 2007. In a risk-benefit analysis from the perspective of the KRG, it appeared to be more advantageous to feed the Turkish military occasional information about the PKK to appease Turkish nationalists at times of grave danger. Simultaneously, the KRG would not fully cooperate with Turkey unless it could leverage clear political or economic benefits. Tensions increased when the PKK mounted attacks across the border against Turkish military installations and outposts. The guerrilla activity further inflamed the already volatile relationship between Turkey and the KRG in 2007 and 2008. To reduce the potential for a Turkish land invasion, both the central Iraqi government and the KRG began to condemn PKK violence.8 Yet as long as the KRG received protection from the U.S. military, the regional Kurdish government could suppress detailed information on the PKK. In a careful balancing act, the KRG gambled by waiting for an ideal time to use intelligence regarding the PKK encampments as a bargaining chip. Northern Iraqi Kurds hoped to gain Turkey’s support for a compromise related to the city of Kirkuk, which was disputed territory. Kurdish, Turkmen, and Arab groups wrangled over the ethnic composition of the area surrounding Kirkuk, in large part because the region offered enormous oil and natural gas reserves, estimated to represent up to 20 percent of Iraq’s total reserves. According to reports issued by the International Crisis Group in 2008 and 2009, Kurdish fighters took advantage of the weakness of other minority groups in the region when U.S. forces invaded Basra province in

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the south. Smaller Arab units moved southward to avoid stalwart peshmerga fighters. As soon as possible after the U.S. invasion “Kurdish forces rush[ed] across the Green Line, the de facto boundary separating the Kurdistan region from the rest of Iraq between 1991 and 2003, to assert their claim to areas they deem[ed] part of their historic patrimony.”9 In 2007, the U.S. military estimated that about 35 percent of the population in and near Kirkuk could be of Kurdish ethnicity, about 30 percent were thought to be Arab, and some 21 percent were believed to be Turkmen, while smaller Assyrian and Christian groups made up the remaining population groups.10 Kurds in Iraq continued to emphasize that the areas surrounding Kirkuk had been predominantly ethnic Kurdish prior to forced population resettlements or Arabization policies carried out under Saddam Hussein. Several ethnic groups and smaller minorities suggested that they should not be marginalized politically or punished economically in a new and democratic Iraq for their presence in and near Kirkuk. While Iraqi Kurds focused on opportunities to strengthen the structures of the KRG and looked for effective political and economic collateral, Turkey’s high command became increasingly agitated with the PKK’s ability to hide across the border. In an extremely tense moment during the spring of 2007, following the killing and abduction of Turkish soldiers by the PKK, some 80,000 Turkish ground troops amassed along the border region and threatened a full-scale invasion of northern Iraq. This time Iraqi Kurdish peshmerga forces openly challenged the Turkish incursion and appeared ready to confront Turkish troops. In fact, Iraqi Kurds counted on U.S. forces to intervene on their behalf should Ankara order a ground invasion. Meanwhile, Washington worried about a destabilization of the embittered central government in Baghdad as a consequence of a Turkish invasion, and wanted to avoid a dangerous disruption of its own military supply lines while fighting Arab insurgents.11 Turkey’s aggressive posturing led to a flurry of vigorous diplomatic efforts by international intermediaries including the United States and various European governments. The result seemed to indicate a growing willingness to avoid a major confrontation. The PKK released abducted Turkish soldiers, and the Turkish government agreed to limit its military operations to targeted airstrikes on PKK encampments. A full scale invasion had been averted to the relief of every party involved in the conflict.

COUNTER-INSURGENCY REVISITED All throughout the 1990s, Turkey’s military had pursued incursions into Iraq to eliminate the PKK’s hideouts in the mountains but never benefited from international support for its operations in northern Iraq. Turkish troops occasionally relied on the collaboration of Iraqi Kurdish peshmerga fighters, which occasionally competed with the PKK over territorial zones of control and influence or directly fought each other.12 At the time, Iraqi

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Kurdish parties and tribal organizations rarely worked toward common objectives. Instead, they undermined each other by sharing intelligence information with their enemies. During Saddam Hussein’s reign of terror, both Massoud Barzani of the KDP and Jalal Talabani of the PUK sought protection from Hussein’s military campaigns and sporadically cooperated with Turkey and Iran. For decades Turkey had attempted to benefit from internal Kurdish disputes and Iraqi-Kurdish struggles with the PKK. Varying Kurdish groups provided Turkish forces with logistical assistance when it was opportune and expedient for them. Multiple large-scale Turkish military operations weakened the organizational strength of the PKK during the mid- and late 1990s. Turkish troops reached PKK-dominated areas in northern Iraq, inflicted heavy casualties among guerrilla members, and partially destroyed the PKK’s infrastructure by bombing its encampments. Turkish ground forces dismantled PKK field hospitals and emptied weapons caches and supply depots. While Turkey’s high command perceived that it was making progress toward defeating the PKK in the 1990s, the consequences of the U.S. invasion of Iraq proved to be a major setback for Turkey’s military. Despite recurring Turkish air raids that pounded the mountain ranges in northern Iraq from 2006 to 2009, the problem of PKK guerrilla incursions into Turkey continued to fester. In August and September 2008, car bombings in Mersin and Izmir caused serious injuries to more than a dozen Turkish police officers, soldiers, and civilians. In October 2008, the PKK staged a brazen cross-border attack that killed 17 Turkish troops, followed by several attempted car bombings in Diyarbakir and a failed suicide bombing in Istanbul. In a predictable domestic Turkish response, intensely nationalistic demonstrations in major cities such as Ankara and Istanbul inflamed the public discourse on how to respond to the PKK. The growing pressure on the AKP government to endorse the military’s plans for a new counter-insurgency campaign created a political atmosphere that excluded alternatives to a military option. The introduction of a parallel track that could endorse a dialogue with civil society organizations or promote an unconventional approach to marginalizing the PKK seemed out of the question. Because of the unrelenting PKK guerrilla activities and the nationalist calls for revenge, Turkey’s parliament approved an extension to an earlier mandate to launch military operations against the PKK into northern Iraq. The country’s Higher Counterterrorism Board (TMYK) initiated discussions considering measures reminiscent of emergency rule in the southeastern region of Turkey.13 Once again, both the United States and Europe engaged in wide-ranging diplomatic efforts to avert a further escalation of hostilities. U.S. ambassador to Turkey, Ross Wilson, confirmed the U.S. government’s commitment to cooperation between regional forces by sharing intelligence to weaken the

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PKK.14 Despite such assurances, Turkish legislators from nationalist parties whipped up emotions by accusing Kurdish leaders in northern Iraq of protecting and even purposefully harboring PKK guerrilla units.15 Meanwhile, Turkey’s constitutional case to ban Turkey’s ethnic Kurdish party, the DTP, for allegedly supporting PKK terrorism gained renewed popularity. During the same time period, from 2007 to 2008, Turkey’s military experienced heavy casualties in ambushes by the PKK along the Turkish-Iraqi border. For a short period, it seemed that Turkey’s high command would consider a reduction in the use of inexperienced conscripts in the southeastern provinces. Public criticism, especially media pressure, compelled the high command to take deliberate initial steps toward the professionalization of the country’s armed forces. Yet by May 2009, the generals notified the AKP government that it would be too costly to transition Turkey’s armed forces to a higher level of professional standards. Estimating that the price tag would be close to $45 billion for Turkey’s armed forces, the high command led by General Başbuğ determined that the current military budget would not permit such an endeavor.16 In addition to budgetary concerns, the military cited other serious impediments to structural reforms. Turkey’s generals warned about a potential expansion of regional terror and criminal networks at a time when the U.S. government planned to initiate its withdrawal of troops from Iraq.17 U.S. troop reductions, Turkey’s military argued, would contribute to further instability and insecurity in a region that was already vulnerable. This troubling assessment left Turkey’s high command with just one possible response to the demands for a transition to an all-volunteer military, namely to reject it. The general staff asserted that it was an inopportune time to focus on the professionalization of its structures when more essential national security concerns were at stake. Turkey’s high command considered the restructuring of its military a risky proposition as long as internal Iraqi territorial, administrative, ethnic, and economic disputes remained acute and unresolved. Political unrest could spill over into Turkey proper, which would negatively impact Turkey’s interactions with neighboring countries and further complicate Turkish-U.S. relations. Turkey’s generals anticipated a power struggle between Iraqi Kurdish elites in the north and Arab leaders in Baghdad, but also assumed that disputes would intensify between Kurds and other minority populations. In Turkey, right-wing supporters of the military aggressively demanded a constitutional ban of the Kurdish DTP. From their perspective, an imminent withdrawal of U.S. troops from Iraq would open up renewed opportunities to obliterate the PKK. In contrast to this view many civil society activists and security experts considered such a ban a grave mistake because it would only bolster the PKK. Radicalized, ethnonationalist Kurds could potentially perceive the PKK as the only remaining organization capable of pursuing full Kurdish political and cultural rights.

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In an October 2008 op-ed letter published in Today’s Zaman, security analyst Emre Uslu from The Jamestown Foundation and Önder Aytaç, professor at Gazi University and affiliated with the Security Studies Institute in Ankara, addressed General Başbuğ directly. The two analysts challenged the Turkish military to adjust its strategies based on lessons learned from past failures.18 They provided several poignant examples to demonstrate the rigidity of the military’s strategy against the PKK, which, in turn, continued to cost the lives of draftees. One example focused on the PKK’s predominant use of tactics imported from other parts of Iraq. The PKK used “remotely controlled improvised explosive devices (IEDs), but the military strategy was to wait [from 2004 to 2006] . . . [the military] did not install signal jammers in its vehicles to prevent the IED attacks.”19 The military explained to grieving relatives of fallen soldiers that the failure to use jammers was due to economic reasons. Uslu and Aytaç rejected this and other explanations, called on the general staff to increase the military’s effectiveness by adequately responding to the PKK’s use of IEDs. They pointed out that the military’s rigidity, short-sightedness, and inability to adapt to PKK weapons innovations caused senseless losses. A political shift in scholarly writings and editorial pieces demonstrated that Turkey’s intellectual elite was beginning to assert a range of diverse and critical perspectives. Despite the continued endorsement of a full military engagement by nationalist Turks as the only option to defeat the PKK, the Turkish government had several alternatives available. One option emphasized by security experts was a revised and proactive counterinsurgency approach by elite forces in northern Iraq and southeastern Turkey. A second alternative encouraged predominantly by intellectuals endorsed diplomatic efforts to improve regional economic cooperation and trade with the KRG. Such economic development proposals were expected to bolster trade relations and would provide incentives to pragmatic Kurds in Iraq to cooperate with Turkey. Economic gains would then result in altering the status quo in northern Iraq and eliminate opportunities for the PKK. A third option frequently mentioned in intellectual and activist circles advocated the simultaneous implementation of civilian and military measures, including granting political space to Kurdish civil society organizations and regional parties. For years, Turkey’s high command demonstrated an astonishing level of rigidity with respect to the use of troops and its broad strategic thinking. But in the organizational structure and training of the Special Forces General Başbuğ appeared to embrace rapid reform. In 2007, a time when Başbuğ still served as the Commander of Turkish Land Forces, he sent clear signals that counter-insurgency forces used against the PKK would be restructured and professionalized. Başbuğ announced his intentions to train and deploy mobile brigades against the PKK during his visit to the Isparta commando school in Eğirdir.20 Since then Turkey’s high command has

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concentrated on improving and expanding specialized training that is available for counter-insurgency forces. It also increased the number of brigades prepared to directly engage with PKK militants. According to defense analysts Ümit Enğinsoy and Burak Bekdil, Turkish special operations forces have been “grouped into two categories.”21 The elite Special Forces Command now consisted of members from all four military branches and incorporated mountain and air-borne troops, aviation, and support units. Small groups of elite forces, often no more than 25 to 35 men, entered the territory of the KRG on several occasions and clashed with PKK guerrilla units. The second grouping, clearly much less specialized, would become part of an army commando force of up to 10,000 men by the end of 2009.22 According to Turkish intelligence analysts, changes to the training and command structure of the elite Special Forces have been long overdue. Sedat Laçiner, director of the Ankara-based International Strategic Research Organization (USAK), proposed that the emphasis on bombing the PKK’s rudimentary infrastructure in the Kandil Mountains of Iraq has not led to the desired outcome of weakening the organization. Instead, he argued that the PKK sustained and strengthened itself through massive drug trade operations, which, he emphasized, needed to be stopped in order to cut off effective financing for the PKK. Laçiner maintained that disrupting resource channels was an essential element to confronting the PKK because unimpeded funding opportunities advanced both the interests of the guerrilla organization and its criminal networks.23 Turkey’s high command considered the use of elite troops against the PKK as a crucial factor in its larger campaign to destroy the organization. Clearly, the Special Forces would be capable of halting food and material supplies to the PKK, yet international cooperation had to be guaranteed to financially weaken the PKK. The most essential question was whether the Special Forces would contribute to shutting down international financial networks that were used for criminal purposes. It was feared that a lack of international banking cooperation and unreliable human intelligence in the predominantly Kurdish provinces would cause significant problems in achieving this goal. After all, the PKK enjoyed a clear advantage with respect to local connections and established networks among Kurdish communities in Turkey and across the border in northern Iraq, Iran, and Syria. Not everyone agreed with the high command’s emphasis on the use of Special Forces. Mahir Kaynak—a former member of Turkey’s intelligence agency Milli Istihbahrat Teşkilati (MIT) and considered an extremely controversial columnist because of his insistence that the September 11, 2001 terror attacks were essentially caused by the United States—called for a broader and more comprehensive strategy to counter-terrorism efforts in Turkey. He wrote critically about Turkey’s anti-PKK approach as overly focused on reactive military responses to particular PKK attacks which demonstrated an outdated or even obsolete pattern of thinking about

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counter-insurgency.24 In his columns Kaynak suggested that Turkey had wasted some €75 billion on a conventional and ultimately ineffective strategy that failed to achieve its main goals. Along with many other analysts, Kaynak pushed for the advancement of socio-political measures that would favor innovative actions over the military’s reliance on massive force. Countless analysts and scholars criticized Turkey’s lack of social and economic approaches which indirectly enhanced the reputation of the PKK as an unyielding force for Kurdish self-determination. In an atmosphere charged by calls for revenge, the PKK managed to anticipate how the Turkish military would respond to an ambush or a series of bombing attacks. The military’s reaction was slow and predictable because many units failed to carry out extensive reconnaissance in the area. Turkey’s armed forces tended to limit their tactics, failing to use standard NATO and U.S. counter-insurgency practices like taking advantage of moments of surprise by striking the enemy at an unexpected time or in a startling manner, by implementing alterations in tempo to control an initiative, and endorsing flexibility among the officers to respond to unanticipated conditions. 25 Once the PKK attacked an outpost or a military transport, the armed forces reactively initiated a campaign to avenge the attack. Turkey’s military was unable to predict and prepare for tactical changes implemented by the PKK, and therefore embraced time worn traditions and patterns. Even though it was obvious that PKK cadres started to copy tactics used by Sunni insurgents against U.S. forces, Turkey’s general staff failed to integrate that knowledge and never adopted the necessary tactical adjustments. In part, the Turkish military’s inability to respond effectively to the PKK was related to the reliance on conscripts and largely underprepared troops, which some media outlets paradoxically labeled Special Forces. Improving officer education and broad mission preparedness were a necessity. At the same time, the military would have to show a serious commitment to cooperate with regional civil society organizations. The armed forces also needed to prioritize infrastructure projects, focus on the construction of hospitals and schools, and create the conditions for local markets to flourish. Not surprisingly, analysts Uslu and Aytaç argued that the most effective measure against all forms of terrorism in the future would be an increase in general participatory democracy in Turkey.26

THE KURDISH INITIATIVE Public scrutiny and substantive criticism from security experts in 2008 resulted in discussions among members of the high command about alternative measures to weaken the PKK. Later that year, General Başbuğ sanctioned a counter-terrorism strategy that indicated a preliminary interest in improved

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civil-military relations in Turkey.27 It appeared that the general staff might be willing to diversify its approach to counter-insurgency strategies. In particular, the military reflected on socio-economic measures to address two problems simultaneously, namely the PKK’s ability to finance its operations and its recruitment of foreign fighters. In 2009 the AKP government agreed to engage in an exploratory dialogue with civil society to consider resolutions to the Kurdish question with the tacit approval of the military. By July 2009 this effort to engage in a cautious dialogue about how to resolve the Kurdish question had been labeled the “Kurdish Initiative,” the “Kurdish Opening,” or the “National Unity Initiative.” Led by Interior Minister Beşir Atalay, the growing willingness to discuss political measures became part of a process to integrate different stakeholders into the conversation. Atalay met with members of opposition parties, representatives from civil society organizations, influential business groups, and various constituents linked to intellectual and academic circles. Prime Minister Erdoğan engaged in a guarded exchange of ideas with Kurdish DTP parliamentarians. Even imprisoned PKK leader Öcalan prepared a lengthy polemic statement that he expected to serve as a road map in a negotiated resolution to the conflict. Civil society representatives expressed cautious optimism about the initiative, even though clashes between the PKK and the military continued to impede the progression of the dialogue. The military’s reluctant path toward carefully endorsing the Kurdish Initiative can be understood in a number of ways. Three factors have to be identified as most significantly swaying the Turkish military’s conduct over the past six years: (1) The consequences of the U.S. occupation of Iraq, (2) Turkish civil society’s criticisms of the military’s and the government’s obstructionism toward finding a solution to the Kurdish conflict, and (3) The AKP’s need for further political legitimization domestically and abroad. In combination, these factors created growing pressure on Turkey’s government, the armed forces, and civil society to pursue an alternative to the established parameters which had sustained the ongoing conflict. Turkish society arrived at a point that required a re-envisioning of the future. Both the military and the government recognized the need to implement incremental steps toward reaching a new level of minimum engagement. However, the progress that could be expected from the Kurdish Initiative depended predominantly on the judgment and conduct of the military, the interest of the PKK leadership in this effort, and the reactions of various groups that ranged ideologically from reactionary ultranationalists to hard-left circles. The government could advance discussions with Kurdish civil society representatives only as long as the military and the judiciary agreed to establish a clear framework for negotiations. Almost immediately, obstacles arose that undermined attempts to advance the dialogue. While the PKK claimed to have endorsed another extension of its unilateral cease-fire during the late summer of 2009, clashes

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between Turkish troops and PKK units continued to result in deaths of soldiers, members of the police, PKK combatants, and civilians. The PKK proposed that if the military agreed to end its combat operations in northern Iraq, it would halt its attacks on Turkish troops and public officials. Not surprisingly, Turkey’s high command dismissed such promises as mere propaganda. Troops had died regularly in guerrilla ambushes and faced constant dangers linked to either pressure-activated or remote-controlled IEDs. As is standard anti-terrorism policy in Turkey, the military rejected any direct engagement with the leadership of the PKK. The high command considered the PKK’s invitation to negotiate as a disingenuous attempt to appear conciliatory. To counteract the political maneuvering by the PKK, the general staff requested another parliamentary extension of its mandate to engage in counter-insurgency activities against the PKK in northern Iraq. On October 6, 2009, Turkey’s parliament extended this mandate for an additional year, confirming the military’s right to pursue Kurdish militants across the border into northern Iraq. Even if the mandate had not been extended by parliament, it is highly likely that Turkish Special Forces would have continued their practice of hot pursuit operations into northern Iraq.28 Representatives of Kurdish civil society, Kurdish intellectuals, and leftist political activists expressed frustration about the glacial pace of progress, and the ease with which demands for increased democratic rights had been framed as ethno-nationalist, divisive, or separatist in spirit. Yaşar Kemal, an influential novelist of Kurdish ethnicity, stated that the main concern in Turkey was the lack of democracy, specifically the insufficient political courage needed to implement social and cultural rights. In an interview with the daily paper Radikal, Kemal suggested that despite positive intentions, 20 million Kurds continued to be deprived of their democratic rights.29 Altan Tan, a well-known conservative Kurdish intellectual and writer, whose father Bedii Tan was tortured to death in the notorious Diyarbakir military prison in 1982, expressed dissatisfaction with the government’s reluctance to fully guarantee cultural and linguistic rights to the Kurdish minority. He blamed both the AKP government and the military for making only nominal progress in 2009, which he felt obstructed Turkey’s ability to attain a more fully functioning democratic system.30 In a previous 2008 interview published in Today’s Zaman, Tan articulated a conservative Kurdish view of societal expectations for the future.31 He proposed that a first step would have to guarantee Kurdish cultural and linguistic rights, which then would need to be followed up with clear efforts to enhance democratization measures. He recommended that a distinction be made in Turkish society between the political and cultural needs expressed by representatives of Kurdish communities, and other issues that related to terrorism such as convincing PKK fighters to abandon their mountain encampments. Only then, Tan advised, could a productive discussion begin to address a potential amnesty for rank and file militants.32

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Across the border in northern Iraq, Kurdish officials welcomed the Kurdish Initiative in Turkey as an important step toward resolving the larger regional conflict. The prime minister of the KRG, Nechirvan Barzani, expressed strong support for continued discussions between Turkey’s prime minister and representatives of Turkish ethnic parties such as the DTP.33 Barzani, just like every other official of the KRG, preferred thriving trade relations with Turkey over dealing directly with the thorny issue of PKK militants in the Kandil Mountains. In northern Iraq the economic strategy produced tangible results and created additional opportunities for a resolution to the larger Iraqi-Turkish-Kurdish conflict. In fact, it had been predominantly private Turkish firms that led the effort to build cement plants, obtain contracts for oil and gas exploration firms, and establish construction businesses in the KRG. 34 Long before the Turkish government pursued improved trade linkages with northern Iraq it was private Turkish entrepreneurs who initiated lucrative opportunities in the KRG. They engaged in cooperative arrangements with Iraqi Kurds and thereby set the stage for improved diplomatic relations between the Turkish government and officials of the KRG. For several years, the KRG aggressively pursued such improved trade relations with Turkey. In March 2008, the first official Turkish delegation arrived in Iraq’s Dohuk province to advance high-level governmental contacts and to assist with bilateral trade efforts. According to Columbia University’s Center for Human Rights scholar David L. Phillips, trade volume [between Turkey and the KRG] will increase to $10 billion this year [2009] and $20 billion in 2010. About 80 percent of goods sold in Iraqi Kurdistan are made in Turkey. There are hundreds of Turkish companies in Iraqi Kurdistan, including construction firms that stand to benefit when the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) launches $100 billion in new infrastructure projects.35

Few Iraqi Kurds doubt that the PKK’s days as an influential guerrilla organization are numbered, yet only as long as the current economic trajectory continues to benefit the region. Already in 2008, Phillips identified attempts by the KRG to curtail the influence of the PKK in the region. He observed that the KRG had established checkpoints around PKK bases to monitor the flow of goods and to stop journalists from entering so that the PKK could no longer use them for specific propaganda purposes.36 For the first time since former Turkish President Turgut Özal pursued a path toward recognition of the Kurdish minority in the early 1990s, an opportunity emerged to resolve some of the underlying causes of the Kurdish conflict. Turkish society experienced a measured conversion which allowed for new thinking to emerge from within the AKP government, and particularly among civically-engaged Kurdish leaders and representatives of various

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intellectual circles. But by the end of 2009, this effort to pursue a Kurdish Initiative proved to be overly tentative and uninspired. When the constitutional court announced that the Kurdish DTP would be banned as a party for seditious activities, the Kurdish Initiative quickly stalled, ending an effort to bring guerrilla members down from the mountains. The co-chairs of the DTP, Ahmed Türk and Aysel Tuğluk, were expelled from parliament and forbidden from participating in politics for five years, along with many other elected DTP representatives. Leyla Zana, the most prominent female Kurdish representative who had spent more than a decade in prison for supporting separatism faced the same fate. Other members of the DTP withdrew from parliament to express their solidarity with the banned Kurdish legislators. Violent protests erupted in all major urban areas in the days following the ban of the DTP. In the southeastern and mostly Kurdish municipalities, protesters battled security forces, which resulted in numerous injuries and deaths. The European Commission cautioned Turkey that this development would deprive Kurdish voters of their legitimately elected representatives—an unacceptable condition for a country that pursued improved democratic standards. Yet, members of the European Commission also criticized the DTP’s leadership for not having separated itself directly and clearly from the PKK.37 The EU President released a separate statement that criticized the ban on the DTP and demanded that Turkey “make the necessary constitutional amendments to bring its legislation on political parties in line with the recommendations by the Venice Commission of the Council of Europe and relevant provisions of the European Convention on Human Rights.”38 While another opportunity to resolve the Kurdish question appeared to have been missed, Prime Minister Erdoğan announced his next move to dismantle the secular stronghold in the country. In March 2010, his government proposed to further amend the 1982 constitution to advance the state of democracy in Turkey in preparation of EU membership. His government forwarded a package of 29 constitutional amendments, some of which addressed long-standing EU demands for democratization such as gender equality, improved protections for children, the right of civil servants to join trade unions (but not to strike), and making active military personnel liable to prosecution in civilian courts. But most of all the amendments drew Turkish society into a critical debate over reshaping the country’s judiciary. For instance, the AKP proposed revisions to the way in which judges are selected. By changing the membership of the Supreme Board of Judges and Prosecutors (HSYK), which has the authority to appoint judges and prosecutors, the AKP hoped to gain more control over the selection process. The government also proposed to increase the number of judges on the constitutional court from 11 to 17, and argued in favor of curtailing laws that permitted bans on political parties. Once the

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amendment package was approved, Turkey’s president could nominate judges to the constitutional court and influence HSYK, which had been fiercely opposed to the ruling AKP.39 The package of constitutional amendments was highly controversial and increased tensions between staunch supporters of secularism and those in favor of reforms. Secular critics claimed that the measures would lead to an Islamization of Turkey’s court system and that they undermined the separation between the executive and judiciary branches because the AKP would exert direct influence over the judiciary. In contrast, supporters of the amendments proposed that the changes would curb the illegal powers of the general staff and their biased allies in the judiciary. Finally, the AKP contended that the proposed amendments followed the judicial blueprints of several EU member states. In July 2010, the constitutional court reviewed the entire package of amendments, annulled several key segments that addressed the court itself and the HSYK, but left the remaining 27 amendments intact. For constitutional amendments to pass in Turkey, 367 of 550 members of parliament must support them. The AKP had only 337 deputies and failed to gain support from other parties for this package. To make matters more complicated, several nationalist AKP parliamentarians refused to support an amendment that proposed changing the practice of banning political parties. Kurdish political parties interpreted this vote as a hostile act against ethnic parties. Yet as long as 330 parliamentarians supported the remaining amendments, President Gül from the AKP could call for a national referendum, scheduled for September 2010.With the referendum the AKP prepared the country’s voters for a major confrontation with the secular establishment. Despite much uncertainty over democratization efforts in Turkey, one outcome was very clear: The Kurdish question would not be resolved soon, and the Kurdish Initiative had been postponed for the foreseeable future.

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The Transnational Kurdish Web

CULTURE AND RESISTANCE Politically engaged Kurds in Turkey considered the Erdoğan government’s uninspired Kurdish Initiative as a missed opportunity to address sociopolitical problems in the country. The Kurdish population expected to see tangible results but felt deeply disappointed by the lack of courage among AKP officials. During the summer of 2009 it seemed that the AKP had reached a political plateau. By all accounts the government had lost its ability and the political will to press for the advancement of the Kurdish minority in Turkey. At first, the establishment of the Kurdish-language state-owned channel TRT6 in January 2009 appeared to be a positive step for Kurds, but the lack of progress on expanding Kurdish language instruction and the minimal improvements related to political representation proved to be disappointing setbacks during the fall of 2009. The constitutional court’s ban of the Kurdish DTP in December 2009 fully demonstrated what many Kurds had feared—Kurdish minority issues would no longer be represented in parliament, leading to a further erosion of trust in the government’s Kurdish Initiative. Meanwhile, European diaspora Kurds regarded the incremental approach of the Kurdish Initiative as a strategic failure by the Erdoğan government, particularly after the closing down of the Kurdish DTP. YEK-KOM, a German umbrella group for Kurdish clubs and ideologically close to the PKK, called the closure of the Kurdish DTP an attempt to silence Kurds in Turkey.1 Kerim Yildiz, Director of the London-based Kurdish Human Rights Project (KHRP), pointed out the central flaws of

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the AKP’s Kurdish Initiative at the Sixth International Conference on EU, Turkey, and the Kurds, an annual conference organized by the EU Turkey Civic Commission (EUTCC) and held at the European Parliament in Brussels. He evaluated “the launch of the AKP’s Democratic Opening, aimed at developing proposals for the resolution of the conflict and political reform [. . . as] a welcome move towards peace. However the AKP initiative does not appear to include opportunities for wider consultation or a call for the substantive constitutional reform that is necessary to recognizing the underlying issues of the conflict.”2 Ironically, the Turkish government indirectly confirmed this very criticism because both the former co-chair of the Kurdish DTP Ahmet Türk and metropolitan mayor of the city of Diyarbakir Osman Baydemir were denied exit visas to speak at the same conference in February 2010.3 The government’s official justification for denying both men their visas was that Türk and Baydemir were to face trial in the near future. Euro-Kurds have grown increasingly frustrated with the AKP for failing to fulfill its promise to advance the position of the Kurdish minority in Turkey, and this has inspired a strong pattern of opposition, which is manifested through cultural expressions. By posting protest music videos on YouTube, advertising Kurdish cultural festivals and Newroz (New Year) celebrations, organizing photo exhibits, and promoting discussion blogs, young diaspora Kurds convey their dissatisfaction with the slow pace of change in Turkey. Established diaspora artists such as Kurdish musician Şivan Perwer long identified music as an essential element of cultural resistance against the forced assimilation of Kurds. In a 2006 interview with the German newspaper Frankfurter Rundschau, Perwer explained his motivations for performing Kurdish music to protest against repression, and for the establishment of a Kurdish cultural foundation in support of exiled Kurdish artists or young European-Kurdish artists. “My music is a scream. And you need this scream to understand Kurds; you can’t do it quietly. Kurds are abused and that is what I sing about.”4 Since 2006 influential Kurdish diaspora members in Europe have emphasized the importance of countering stereotypes of Kurds as tribal, primitive, or backward. Musicians, bloggers, and activists aggressively challenge the negative images by taking full advantage of multi-media opportunities to create and promote Kurdish cultural identity. Paralleling the Kurdish cultural resistance in Europe, Ahmet Türk, the former leader of the Kurdish DTP, argued that Kurdish language instruction should be offered in public schools instead of being relegated to costly private institutes that remained out of financial reach for most. About 15 percent of Turkey’s population speaks Kurdish, and many impoverished Kurdish speakers are illiterate in both their own language and Turkish. Yet speaking Kurdish in public continues to be a criminal offense in Turkey. For example, elected Kurdish officials from the southeastern Hakkari province who addressed their constituents in the Kurdish language prior to the

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March 2009 local elections faced criminal prosecution. The use of the Kurdish language is seen as a sign of support for “separatist activities” among nationalist Turkish legislators and jurists. For that reason, Kurdish language instruction has been curtailed at most universities as well. YÖK, Turkey’s Higher Education Board, granted initial permission to only two universities in the southeast, Mardin and Diyarbakir, to establish Kurdish Language and Literature departments. However, actual course work was allowed only for students at the post-graduate and doctoral levels, not for undergraduate students. YÖK rejected a request from a third university at Dicle to begin Kurdish language courses because the program’s proposal was perceived as an attempt to support terrorist efforts, according to Today’s Zaman.5 Undergraduate students, just like students enrolled in secondary schools, have been denied access to publicly funded Kurdish language programs across the entire country. While the AKP government implemented initial reforms that related to minority language programs to meet EU standards, the actual results have been far from satisfactory, as the European Commission’s Turkey 2009 Progress Report stated unequivocally.6 Despite broad disappointments on the political level, the Kurdish Initiative did manage to produce the opportunity for stronger economic relations with neighboring Iraqi Kurdish communities. It is the growth of trade between the southeastern provinces of Turkey and the KRG in northern Iraq that will provide one of the few realistic chances for tangible improvement in the lives of Kurds. Given the chance, many Kurdish families living in the southeastern provinces would pursue economic opportunities through trade with the KRG rather than return to the status quo in Turkey as it existed before the Iraq war. The KRG in northern Iraq gained credibility among Turkey’s Kurdish population because of its capacity to produce economic and political benefits for its own Kurdish population. However, should the KRG identify an advantage from competing for popular Kurdish support in the larger region, this could present a serious problem for the PKK. If the KRG engages with the Kurdish minority in Turkey, there would be a major power shift in the PKK. A more broadly engaged KRG would introduce an open challenge to the Kurdish status quo, and the PKK would no longer dominate the Kurdish population’s political imagination. In a competitive political and economic environment the PKK would need to pursue an alternative means to achieve Kurdish self-determination. As a guerrilla force, the PKK could become exposed to growing criticism over the use of violence. The PKK’s standard practice of identifying the Turkish state as the enemy would become increasingly ineffective in an environment of competing Kurdish political forces. In anticipation of changes in the regional power structure, the PKK has emphasized the importance of its parallel European strategy. Since the mid-2000s, the PKK expanded its recruitment efforts among young diaspora Kurds and broadened its networking strategies to shore up popular

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support for the organization. The PKK aggressively increased its campaigns to attract young European born Kurds to the larger issue of Kurdish identity formation and the minority’s demands for political, cultural, and linguistic rights. For the PKK to achieve a position of strength in a potential peace arrangement with the Turkish state, it was necessary to enlist a new generation of supporters beyond the southeastern provinces. One way to enhance its organizational influence in Europe was to more deeply penetrate youthful Kurdish circles to expand the network of communities involved in advocacy. While the PKK successfully recruited supporters in Kurdish diaspora communities throughout the 1980s and 1990s, it failed to integrate less ideologically committed and politicized European born Kurds. But once the interests of musicians, filmmakers, and artists of Kurdish descent in Europe overlapped with PKK objectives, the militant group began to make some inroads. It demonstrated once again an adept ability to transform the political direction of the organization. The PKK’s European branches embraced and took advantage of innovative forms of social mobilization. In stark contrast to its earlier, rigid campaigns, European PKK structures now pursued multi-media opportunities to empower young Euro-Kurds with an interest in pursuing de-centralized ethno-national publicity efforts. One of the more prominent examples that highlighted the European PKK’s ability to connect with younger Euro-Kurds emerged from the underground music movement, particularly the ethnic immigrant rap scene. The PKK no longer fully controlled and managed the dissemination of ethno-national messages in Europe, but contained them within broadly defined parameters of Kurdish identity. The PKK offered underground musicians an opportunity to perform to larger audiences, while the artists often benefited from enhancing their reputations though the affiliation with the PKK. In particular rappers enjoyed an image boost from being considered “connected” with the PKK, as it enhanced their ability to appear tough and authentic. In a 2006 interview with the Kurdish nationalist newspaper Yeni Özgür Politika (New Free Politics) Kurdish-German rapper Azad declared “people should know: we are here and we are Kurdish.”7 Over the past several years, the rapper had become an attraction for teenage Kurdish fans, and in 2009 he rose to the status of a featured artist at the 17th International Kurdish Festival held in Gelsenkirchen, Germany. The annual festival drew some 35,000 Kurdish supporters and nationalists from across Western Europe, although PKK estimates suggested an attendance of 80,000 Kurds, which was a clear exaggeration. All cultural and political events surrounding the festival had been widely publicized by European Kurdish organizations including by YEK-KOM, the umbrella organization that manages the tightly structured Kurdish political and cultural clubs across Germany. In timehonored fashion, well-known Kurdish musicians entertained rambunctious crowds at the festival while the organizing committee interspersed the performances with flashy video images and rousing nationalist speeches.8

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When Azad appeared on stage along with a number of other Kurdish musicians at the International Kurdish Festival, he felt compelled to demonstrate his political commitment to his fans. As is common during such festivals, Kurdish flags and images of PKK leader Öcalan are openly displayed on large banners and video screens along with photos of “martyrs for Kurdistan”—PKK guerrilla members who died in battle against Turkish state forces. In addition, the crowd in attendance listened to a satellite message from PKK acting commander Murat Karayılan, who demanded that the Turkish military stop its bombing campaign against PKK encampments in northern Iraq. YEK-KOM president Ahmet Çelik insisted at the event that the ban against the PKK must be lifted in Europe to support the Kurdish Peace Initiative in Turkey. The festival’s slogan for 2009, Peace for Kurdistan—Freedom for Öcalan, focused on demands for negotiations with the PKK in Turkey and, to no one’s surprise, on the continued campaign to release imprisoned leader Öcalan from the prison island of Imrali.9 As a matter of routine, German police assigned a few officers to the festival in case problems with crowd control developed. Despite unambiguous police regulations that prohibited the display of PKK images or the organization’s propaganda, the annual Kurdish festival took place without interference by German security personnel. While it continues to be illegal to display PKK flags, banners, and symbols that glorify the PKK including images of Öcalan, German police forces avoid direct confrontations at large Kurdish events. Police rarely engage with crowds over symbolic acts of resistance. Instead, officials prefer to disrupt general fundraising efforts by the PKK and attempt to weaken transnational financial networks and recruitment activities that benefit the PKK. As in earlier festivals, the 2009 event offered an unusual lineup of protest musicians. Azad’s emergence as a featured artist popular among young European-born Kurds was an innovative development within the Kurdish diaspora movement. Azad belonged to a handful of Euro-rappers who aggressively promoted their Kurdish ethnicity by marketing themselves to youthful fans, ranging from approximately 14 to 25 years old. Over a period of five years, Azad’s commercial endeavors started to overlap noticeably with political agendas espoused by radical Kurds in the European diaspora. The rapper’s video imagery and lyrics also adopted a sharper tone to separate himself from other rappers with a migration background in Germany. Azad embraced a rap style called “battle rap” or “gangsta rap” to integrate his increasingly violent and profane language that promoted drug dealing, promiscuity, and gang lifestyles in tough urban environments. His lyrics referenced confrontations between gangs and police as an element of typical life in Frankfurt, and described the violence of marginalized minority life: “you grow up on hash and concrete,” “pigs patrol the street like military,” and “I’m planning murder and rape.” Azad’s commercial media interviews emphasized his personal experiences with migration

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and social alienation in Germany. But in his collaboration with Kurdish media outlets, Azad reflected more intensively on ethnic identity issues and experiences with exclusion, which increasingly informed his belligerent lyrics threatening to “burn you like Napalm.” But through texts like “this is my land, these are my roots, my Kurdistan, this is my origin,” the rapper moved beyond standard rap lyrics. He effectively connected his heritage and political perspectives to marketing Kurdish resistance and identity as part of his sub-genre of ethno-nationalist rap music.10 It was hardly surprising that mainstream society paid little attention to Kurdish rap music or its socio-political and ideological references. But German public officials also overlooked the genre, making it easy for Azad to expand his nationalist profile. He operated below the radar of agencies that monitored radical Kurdish activism. But when the rapper agreed to be interviewed by the left-wing nationalist newspaper Yeni Özgür Politika in 2006, the unusual collaboration stood out to observers of Kurdish activism. This surprising connection between the rap musician and the inveterate ethno-nationalist paper was remarkable in several respects. Yeni Özgür Politika appealed to a deeply ideological audience including members of established leftist circles and supporters of the PKK. The paper’s readership starkly contrasted with Azad’s typical fan base of European-born Kurdish teenagers and young adults. Prior to the interview with the newspaper, the rapper’s youthful followers had not been identified as nationalist in outlook. It seemed that Azad began to change these dynamics by encouraging young European-born Kurds to display a stronger commitment to homeland related political activism. Azad’s typical youth-oriented media interviews addressed the rapper’s personal experiences instead of sending nationalist messages to his fans. The rapper often remarked “Kurdish kids lacked role models” in their lives and that “young Kurds feel ashamed of saying that they are Kurdish.”11 At first glance, Azad’s collaboration with Yeni Özgür Politika seemed to represent a particularly odd attempt at a professional crossover for a niche rapper. But in conversations with reporters Azad provided an explanation for his new outlook. He proposed that it had become a growing problem for him that young Kurds failed to understand the meaning of their ethnic origin. In several interviews Azad insisted that questions about Kurdish ethnic identity could not be answered easily because of the limited selfawareness among teenage Kurds in Europe. At a young age Azad also had struggled with his own identity, and he explained that he felt bothered by the reality that no official maps indicated that Kurdistan even existed.12 As a consequence, Azad sharpened his tone and integrated the language of ethnic Kurdish pride into his rap lyrics and online videos. Azad quickly discovered that the evolution of his music along with the political messaging appealed to many Kurdish teenagers. The rapper realized that he could fill a deep emotional void among Euro-Kurdish youth.

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A sizable minority within the Kurdish teenage community identified with negative hip-hop stereotypes and they responded to the messages about rejecting social controls and authority, the police, and the dominance of “white” society. Kurdish-Germans and Kurdish-Europeans often felt angered that they were labeled as foreigners in their countries of birth, despite holding German or European citizenships. Many had internalized the derogatory label of Kanake, one of the xenophobic terms used to demarcate darker skinned persons in Germany (Turkish-German author Ibrahim Kepenek entitled his book on military service in Turkey Rühr Dich, Kanake [Move it, Darkie] to play on the same idea.)13 Since 2005, Azad succeeded in creating a commercial image that was a clear attempt at shaping a new generation of Kurdish ethnic identity in Europe. Educating teenagers about the multiple layers of meaning to their Kurdishness, Azad advanced awareness and discourses about the treatment of the Kurdish minority in Europe and the larger Middle East. His rap songs affirmed culturally disoriented teenagers and connected their marginal lives to a strong sense of heritage. While many hip-hop and rap artists with a migration background from Spain, Italy, Eastern Europe, and mostly from Turkey, blended their messages with diverse cultural and musical traditions and languages, Azad succeeded to a higher degree than most. The rapper presented himself as a role model to vulnerable Kurdish teenagers who felt ostracized by their low social status in European societies. He promoted himself as someone who fully understood the emotional journey they experienced, and he intimated that he could provide young Kurds with an ethnic compass. Azad’s pointed lyrics and driving, forceful music emphasized the increasing importance of ethnic authenticity. By linking his personal experiences to the needs he perceived to exist among his fan base, Azad suggested that the frequently posed questions of “What is a Kurd? Where is Kurdistan?” required his attention. The majority of his fans knew little about their own heritage, often relying exclusively on stories their relatives had shared. In that context the rapper elevated himself to the status of role model for politically immature or disconnected Kurds by marketing his music as a way to identify with genuine Euro-Kurdishness. Immigrant rap groups, including Azad’s former band The Asiatic Warriors, appealed to teenagers who felt excluded in Germany and other European countries. They most often gained notoriety as underground protest musicians rather than through traditional contracts within the music industry. Rappers recorded their own songs and posted them online. Their lyrics addressed experiences with destitution, police brutality, drug use, and systematic discrimination. In particular, ethnic Turkish-German and Kurdish-German rappers created a hybrid rap style in Europe that is described as “oriental hip hop.” Artists often integrated so-called Arabesque music into their performances, which was a blended musical style utilizing a

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range of Middle Eastern string instruments to enhance vocal melodies. Over the past decade several European-based rap artists and their bands including Cartel, Kool Şavas (Cool War), Bero Bass, Xatar (Danger), and Azad (Freedom), appropriated elements of the Arabesque musical style along with coded terminology and creolized language fragments—a mix of Turkish-German or Kurdish-German—into their own recordings.14 The innovative mix of languages and musical styles provided niche rappers with the ability to communicate on several levels with their target audiences. Creating a sense of community and solidarity among those who belonged to the inner circle of fans, the rappers provided teenagers with a means to express the intensity of their rejection of mainstream, white, and rigid German society.15 At times, the rap lyrics also incorporated references to customs in the homeland that young transnational listeners often rebelled against, including authoritarian, conventional, or religious parameters enforced by parents. When rappers perceived socio-cultural expectations or norms as constraining and superimposed on their lives, they lashed out against them or ridiculed them in ways similar to AfricanAmerican or Latino rappers in the United States. Ironically, many rappers rejected Turkish/Kurdish traditions from their ethnic homeland, yet embraced repressive and group-based elements of a male honor code. They appropriated aspects of the honor code that fit within their understanding of the rules of gang life by accepting “no snitching” rules and protections for “blood brothers,” but rejected codes of conduct related to respect for women and elders.

GROOMING THE NEXT GENERATION Through a unique blend of musical traditions, performance styles, and languages, Azad and other rappers asserted ethnically centered messages that helped shape nationalist-oriented youth cultures and their subidentities. In effect, “oriental hip hop” communities in Germany are an influential element within the nationalist contexts of Turkish and Kurdish immigrant neighborhoods. While few indicators seemed to suggest that Azad supported the goals of the PKK in 2006, that assessment changed when Yeni Özgür Politika established a connection with the rapper. As an influential person among marginalized Kurdish youth in Germany, Azad repeatedly exposed his fan base to political ideas that were advanced by the European branches of the PKK. The ominous question that arose for security analysts was whether they had uncovered an innovative grooming tool that was helping to recruit future guerrilla members among second and third generation Euro-Kurds. Among the many methods used by Kurdish militants to reach out to members of the diaspora was Yeni Özgür Politika, which supported the

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PKK’s fundraising and recruiting activities in Germany. Initially, Yeni Özgür Politika had been distributed under the name of Özgür Gündem (Free Agenda) and later under Özgür Politika (Free Politics). Younger generations of Kurds did not pay as much attention to articles published by timehonored Kurdish nationalist sites. But when Azad agreed to an interview with Yeni Özgür Politika, and especially after the interview was translated and disseminated online, Kurdish rap fans took notice.16 The outreach effort resulted in a closer relationship between established PKK circles and younger generations of Kurdish teenagers, who were eager to learn about their cultural heritage and identity. In 2005, the German Interior Ministry shut down the paper for involvement in money transfers from Europe to PKK networks inside Turkey. Under its new name, Yeni Özgür Politika, the paper re-emerged just months after its original closure in the German state of Hessen. The paper was estimated to have a circulation of only about 15,000 in Germany, but security analysts considered it to be a vital networking tool to advance the PKK’s political goals. The total readership was likely to be much larger than the estimated figures based on the hard copy circulation since the paper relied extensively on its online version, which is updated regularly.17 European branches of the PKK have long emphasized public relations activities that reach out to Kurdish youth through multi-media efforts, including the publication of various Web sites. For nearly two decades, the PKK sustained numerous layers of public relations venues in support of its political goals in Europe, including its TV and radio stations, internetbased magazines and videos, and daily papers. Still, Kurdish teenagers in Europe preferred to use internet-based social networking sites and their own communication strategies rather than relying on established media outlets, with the exception of TV stations. YouTube became an important mechanism for Euro-Kurds to share political messages without having a connection to established circles of militants. Azad’s interview with Yeni Özgür Politika served both the rapper’s interests and the Kurdish political movement in Europe. The rapper succeeded in temporarily establishing a relationship between several generations of Kurds with vastly dissimilar life histories and experiences. Azad thereby gained an opportunity to enhance his own claim to ethnic and political authenticity. Instead of being perceived as purely interested in marketing his Kurdishness for financial gain, Azad now had articulated a clear political position. The rapper also benefited from marketing his personal connection to radical circles. He suddenly enjoyed a reputation for authentic “street cred,” since a genuinely nationalist Kurdish publication with connections to the militant movement had demonstrated an interest in his opinions and perspectives.18 Azad now supported Kurdish empowerment by sharing and shaping political ideas among his fans. Simultaneously, the rapper provided established Kurdish activists with a better understanding of what

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attracted young Euro-Kurds to the Kurdish struggle in the homeland. To appeal to second and third generation Kurds, the PKK needed to emphasize aspects of ethnic identity and social inclusion. For years, Azad had worked diligently to enhance his reputation as an outspoken artist by strongly endorsing the recognition of Kurds as an ethnic minority in Europe. In 2005, Azad’s public claims to Kurdishness had portrayed him as an outlier among the so-called “Turkish rap” scene in Germany—“Turkish rap” was a common misnomer at the time. Thomas Solomon, an anthropologist at the Norwegian University of Bergen, had long suggested that a number of prominent Turkish rappers in Germany were actually Kurdish “who choose to be ‘Turkish’ in their public personas and rap in Turkish and/or German.”19 According to Solomon, many rappers in Germany had hidden their Kurdish ethnicity to avoid negative consequences, especially when they traveled back and forth between Germany and Turkey, and when they sold CDs in Turkey. Just like Kurdish political activists, Kurdish artists and musicians were harassed by Turkish authorities if they claimed Kurdish ethnicity or performed songs in Kurdish languages. Some had faced arrest, detention, jail time and even torture for disseminating their music videos and CDs in Turkey. But Azad challenged this pattern, calling it intimidation, and started to question the legitimacy of states that failed to recognize Kurds as a separate ethnic group. He integrated Kurmanji (the dominant Kurdish language in Turkey) into his music to more authentically represent his political views in his lyrics. Azad also collaborated with folkloric Kurdish musicians who had been banned from performing in countries with Kurdish populations. Once Azad took the lead and succeeded in raising his profile and marketability, other Turkish-German rappers like Xatar and Bero Bass publicly transformed themselves into Kurdish-German rappers. An entire KurdishGerman rap sub-culture was inspired by ideas Azad and his band members advanced. Azad’s band consisted of three additional members, an ethnic Tunisian, an Italian, and a Turk, and they called themselves “Warheit,” a clever play on the German word Wahrheit, or truth. By eliminating one letter, the band invented the term “wardom” or “state of war,” but also implied that their cause was justified and truthful. It is important to recognize that Azad initially copied much of his look, swagger, and style from AfricanAmerican rappers. Over time, he adjusted his irreverent lyrics to address more directly the ethnic Kurdish context in Europe and disseminated his particularistic socio-political messages online. Although the number of rappers who claimed Kurdish ethnicity continued to grow, Azad’s enterprise spearheaded the youth identity movement because of his commercial successes. His songs articulated an uncompromising need for Kurdish-German youth to define themselves as opposed to their categorization as a disrespected and repressed minority. In particular, Azad’s music videos used Kurdish nationalist imagery, including photos of

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impoverished, rural Kurds in traditional dress, depicting some as wearing the tell-tale, black and white checkered puşi scarves that so often marked a “commitment to the cause” among Euro-Kurdish teenagers. The act of wearing this scarf demonstrated opposition to repressive policies directed at the Kurdish minority. In addition, Azad’s videos regularly displayed maps of Kurdistan decorated with the colors of the Kurdish flag (three horizontal bars of red, white, and green with a bright yellow sun in the center), and at times incorporated grainy footage of Kurdish guerrilla fighters, most likely members of the PKK. Other rappers with ethnic Kurdish backgrounds started to emulate Azad’s commercial projects. They copied the musician’s video walls and flashy messages of resistance and hoped to benefit from his commercial success. The Kurdish-German rapper Xatar (Danger), for instance, successfully appealed to his own fan base by introducing the combative slogan “I’m Kurdish, our tradition is fighting (Ich bin Kurde, bei uns ist Kämpfen Tradition).” The refrain affirmed his fans’ ethnicity, but also established an emotional linkage between the Kurdish experience of repression and defiance in the homeland. Xatar’s lyrics could be heard regularly as a rallying cry during street scuffles between Kurdish and Turkish youth groups. However, in interviews on YouTube, Xatar insisted that he is not encouraging the use of violence among his fans. He says “I’m a proud Kurd, and it will be like this until my death, but that doesn’t mean that I hate other ethnic groups (Ich bin ein stolzer Kurde und das wird auch so bleiben bis zu meinem Tod, aber das heißt doch nicht, daß ich etwas gegen andere Völker hab’).”20 Both Azad and Xatar marketed themselves as ethnically conscious musicians, often disseminating an anti-authoritarian, anti-government, and anti-police position as part of their ethnic Kurdish legitimization. But they also rejected the interpretation that their music endorsed or even normalized the use of violence among their fans. But some Euro-Kurdish rap fans and their ethnic Turkish opponents clearly felt inspired by the rappers’ lyrics and considered it justified to engage in violent conduct toward their ethnic adversaries. Azad’s and Xatar’s political articulations motivated new generations of hip hop artists to market themselves as the voices of Kurdish consciousness. Young musicians like Bernama Kurd, DezzDeniz, Roj Yunis, and Serhado among many others, have followed in the footsteps of the more established ethnic rappers. Public officials in Europe failed to recognize the appeal of the increasingly ethno-nationalist statements that members of this minority music scene disseminated. When street fights between Turkish-German gangs and adherents of Kurdish-German clubs increased over the past several years in the cities of Frankfurt, Berlin, and Duisburg, security experts started to link rap lyrics to the rise of youth violence in Turkish and Kurdish neighborhoods. Passionate lyrics in support of the PKK, or aggressive statements in favor of right-wing Turkish organizations appeared frequently

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online. Police forces in Berlin, for example, had considered rap music a mere reflection of a harmless and youthful immigrant sub-culture, but quickly paid attention to changing patterns in youth violence in 2007. 21 Claudia Dantschke, a researcher at the Center for Democratic Culture, suggested that an antagonistic and militant subculture had emerged among some teenagers with a migration background. Young men, but also increasingly young women, whose parents had arrived from Turkey participated in aggressive public identity demonstrations to demarcate their ethnic Turkish or Kurdish origin.22 With increasing frequency, teenagers posted videos of themselves on YouTube that supported either the PKK or ultra-nationalist Turkish groups in Germany. They used images from battle scenes in Turkey and Iraq to contextualize their own rap music and political leanings. Clashes between adherents of so-called Bozkurt (Grey Wolves) Mafia Turkish rap groups and Kurdish ethno-nationalist rappers and their fans broke out with planned regularity. Bozkurt-Mafia members, a name Turkish-German teenagers appropriated for themselves to add a sense of heightened menace to their activities, portrayed an extreme sense of superiority in their lyrics over other minorities originating from Turkey. Bozkurt teenagers appear to be loosely connected to Turkey’s ultra-nationalist MHP or National Movement Party (also translates to National Action Party), whose cadre members are the Grey Wolves. According to Dantschke, some Turkish-German teenagers have embraced extremely nationalistic tendencies to assert an elevated position for themselves in society. 23 Often Bozkurt teenagers become involved in producing their own menacing music to threaten and intimidate Kurdish teenagers. They are attracted to the idea of the mythical Grey Wolf that led Turkish tribes to freedom some 1000 years ago. Xatar responded in one video to Bozkurt teenagers by rapping “against the warrior heart of my people, no wolf can help (gegen das Kämpferherz meines Volks hilft auch kein Wolf).” Just as Kurdish-German youth are vulnerable to PKK recruiters, self-proclaimed Bozkurt teenagers may have become easy prey for European-based recruiters with links to ultra-nationalist Turkish circles. According to security reports, German police monitor both the Grey Wolves and the PKK because they espouse militant views and demonstrate a willingness to engage in violence.24 Members of the Grey Wolves and of the PKK have targeted each other in Europe and inspire similar patterns of violence within circles of Turkish-German and Kurdish-German adolescents. In regular intervals Bozkurt rappers and Kurdish rappers upload extremely disturbing messages to YouTube, which often seem to incite street mêlées.25 Over the past several years, security analysts have started to consider the potential for radicalization among teenagers with a migration background from Turkey. The question that arises is to what extent teenagers with a Turkish or Kurdish ethnic background have been targeted for political radicalization by militant organizations such as

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the PKK and the Grey Wolves. Several German states scrutinize teenage groups and youth organizations for their potential to mobilize and radicalize, and monitor youth participation in transnational criminal organizations, militant nationalist groups, and guerrilla movements.26 Security analysts have not been able to conclusively demonstrate that the youthful immigrant rap scene actively supports PKK recruitment efforts in Germany. But there is little doubt that a collaborative relationship exists between various Kurdish nationalist organizations and Kurdish protest musicians. Azad’s interviews and performances at Kurdish events assisted the PKK in reaching impressionable Euro-Kurdish teenagers. Azad’s videos and political positions endorsed messages similar to those represented by the political branches of the PKK in Europe. The rapper also willingly participated in collaborative efforts with PKK circles and used his influence to attract teenagers to the Kurdish struggle. Even if Azad collaborated with the PKK for purely commercial interests, he most certainly realizes that his position as a role model exposed some Kurdish youth to PKK recruitment techniques. Without a doubt, Azad is aware of the fact that teenagers of Kurdish ethnicity have disappeared from their parents’ apartments in Europe to join the PKK in Turkey and northern Iraq or the Party for a Free Life in Kurdistan (PJAK), its allied organization in Iran. Few among the vanishing teenagers ever made their way back home to Europe, although some exceptions have been covered in the popular press. For instance, accounts about a woman called Zerya circulated in the British press in 2007. Zerya had joined the PKK at 12 in an attempt to escape a difficult family situation in Germany. She actively participated in the guerrilla movement as a fighter for 16 years but then attempted to leave the guerrilla encampments to reconnect with her family in Germany.27 German media also extensively covered the story of a young man named Sertan. His account reflected the realities of more recent experiences, since he left Germany in 2006 to become a fighter for PJAK. YouTube featured a fascinating German-language interview with Sertan discussing his interests in joining PJAK and his socio-political outlook on the Kurdish conflict. The video showed the young recruit guarding territory along the Iraqi-Iranian border, and depicted images from an ideological training class that raised political awareness among fighters.28 But in 2008, Sertan decided to leave Iraq to return to his former life in Germany. Disillusioned with his experiences as a guerrilla fighter, he abandoned the life he had led in the primitive encampment. According to press reports, Sertan has lived in hiding since his return to Europe because militant Kurdish groups consider him a traitor who should be executed for abandoning the revolutionary cause.29 For years, European police forces attempted to put an end to the recruitment of disaffected Kurdish youth into guerrilla movements. Since the 1990s German police estimated that about 1,800 to 2,000 Kurdish children and teenagers have died in battles between the Turkish army and PKK

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guerrilla units, with the vast majority of these teenagers coming from Germany.30 Sporadically, boys, and sometimes also girls, between the ages of 14 and 18, disappeared from their parents’ houses only to re-emerge as guerrilla fighters in the mountains of northern Iraq and Iran. Some reportedly had been prepared as fighters in European training camps before being smuggled across international borders into Turkish and Iraqi mountain encampments.31 Available figures for Euro-Kurdish youth who left their homes to join the PKK are notoriously unreliable since many immigrant families fail to alert authorities of the disappearances of their children. Often, parents and relatives fear bureaucratic consequences related to their immigration status, or they want to avoid possible reprisals by militant Kurdish networks for having collaborated with European authorities.32 The central question that security experts need to answer is whether Azad, Xatar, and other Kurdish rappers are actively or even indirectly supporting the PKK’s recruitment efforts in Europe. While their concerts attract small crowds, the fans are increasingly politically engaged and visibly identify themselves in the audience. They display Kurdish flags as ethnic markers and chant Kurdish political slogans to demonstrate their allegiance to the Kurdish struggle for freedom. Azad also claims to have a growing fan base in Tel Aviv and in London where many Iraqi, Iranian, and Syrian Kurds reside in exile. As artists, Azad and other Kurdish rappers enhance their popularity by performing with legendary Kurdish musicians. For example, Azad collaborated with Şivan Perwer, the famous Kurdish bard and lute player, or dengbêj, a term describing a Kurdish musician with a memory for folkloristic stories and regional myths. Perwer has been called the “Voice of Kurdistan” by his political supporters, but he was banned from performing traditional Kurdish music throughout Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and Syria until recently.33 In his songs, Perwer recounts culturally significant moments in Kurdish history, and uses emotional appeals to protest against the repression of Kurds. With the destruction of tribal culture in Kurdish areas the tradition of the dengbêj was nearly lost over the past several decades.34 Among Kurdish nationalists, Perwer’s musical story telling is considered an extremely important tool for the preservation of Kurdish culture and history, and a form of resistance and protest against oppression. Perwer has lived in exile in Germany for 40 years and regularly voices his support for the right of cultural self-defense in Kurdish areas. For decades, Perwer’s songs and texts had been classified as separatist propaganda in Turkey, and Turkish police detained anyone in possession of his tapes. In 1986, the Turkish government revoked Perwer’s Turkish citizenship, and unjustly classified him a supporter of the PKK. When he requested the right to enter Turkey in 2004 to perform his music, the Turkish government rejected his application and suggested that he could visit the country just like

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any other foreign citizen, with a valid passport from a foreign country. In an interesting turn of events in 2009 as part of the AKP’s Kurdish Initiative, Turkey’s state-run TV station TRT6 invited Perwer to Turkey to perform for the opening ceremonies of Kurdish language TV. Perwer declined to participate in the state-sponsored events. But Turkey’s AKP government then approved the showing of a documentary about Perwer’s life and his music for TRT6 during special programming in January 2009.35 As recently as in August 2009, Perwer and several Kurdish musicians in his company were mistaken for armed terrorists in Toronto, Canada.36 Based on a false or misleading tip to Canadian police, his vehicle was stopped along a stretch of highway, and Perwer and the other musicians were arrested at gunpoint. Canadian officials later expressed regret for the mistake, but Kurdish activists wondered if someone with a political agenda tipped off the police in order to embarrass and humiliate the musicians. But political controversy and efforts to resist the Turkish government are among the activities that can enhance the reputation of musicians who intentionally promote and commodify their oppositional attitudes. Perwer’s arrest in Canada made the collaboration between the rapper Azad and Perwer more widely known among diaspora Kurds. Azad’s marketability as a rapper increases whenever he engages in public conflict with authority figures. He profits from the increased notoriety. At the same time, Kurdish nationalists amplify all media coverage that relates to the mistreatment or arrest of personalities like Azad or Perwer, particularly if the artists can be seen as being victimized by oppressive government forces. Kurdish nationalist writers, bloggers, and activists take advantage of every opportunity to remind wider audiences of the ongoing Kurdish conflict, and incidents involving rebellious personalities serve to promote the Kurdish cause. While the use of low-level violence is still perceived by some diaspora Kurds as a legitimate tool to pursue ideological aims in Europe, access to multi-media technology, music, and art has displaced some of the physical protest action. However, with proper motivation by an inspiring leader with a command of highly charged, technologically supported cultural image-making, a significant mobilization potential exists for militant organizations such as the PKK. Azad clearly gained from having a reputation for being edgy, politically aware, and committed to the Kurdish cause. Most artists, musicians, and participants at the 19th Kurdish festival expressed their support for Kurdish cultural and political rights, yet they also endorsed a peaceful resolution to the Kurdish conflict.37 Violence, however, still remains widely accepted, celebrated, and emulated among supporters of the PKK and followers of Kurdish (and Bozkurt) rap music. Kurdish audiences understand that nationalist leaders, PKK spokespersons, and rap idols will claim to oppose violence, but at the same time indirectly encourage the perpetuation of the conflict. Kurdish rap videos, for example, show images of war, masked

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guerrilla fighters, prison scenes, burning buildings, and exploding cars—all of which help to sell songs. But depending on the target audiences and media outlets, Kurdish leaders or musicians advance ideas at Kurdish festivals that differ from other public statements that more generally address Kurdish concerns. For instance, at the 2009 Kurdish festival, organizing YEK-KOM members took offense that Azad displayed the official northern Iraqi KRG flag on stage instead of the PKK’s flag. Representatives of YEK-KOM abruptly moved on stage and changed the rapper’s backdrop without his or his band’s permission. Azad may have wanted to show his independence from the PKK by displaying the KRG’s colors, or perhaps felt a need to demonstrate that the PKK did not control his performance, but YEK-KOM staffers forced the rapper to comply with the overarching message of support for the PKK that was endorsed at the event.38 In many ways, this symbolic event summarized two facts about the PKK. The militant organization protects its penetrating influence among politicized Kurds in Europe and it competes with the KRG’s reputation for offering a successful model to achieve improved conditions for Kurds in Turkey.

EUROPEANIZATION STRATEGIES Several European countries play significant roles in the PKK’s interwoven linkages with Kurdish elites, Kurdish cultural networks, and Kurdish civil society circles in the diaspora. Without a doubt, Germany is at the epicenter of this transnational web because the majority of politically engaged ethnic Kurds reside there. But, it is equally important to scrutinize the Netherlands and Belgium, which at different times hosted the political headquarters for Kurdish transnational activism, and provided operating space for PKK shell organizations. Kurdish networks in France, the UK, Austria, and Denmark also warrant scrutiny because they regularly emerge in European security reports for active connections to suspected PKK circles. Europol, an agency that coordinates the European Union’s criminal intelligence units, classified the PKK as an ethno-nationalist and separatist organization, which it carefully monitors throughout the region.39 Europol identified several interconnected areas of concern related to Kurdish activism: (1) transnational criminal operations involving drugs, smuggling, and fundraising activities; (2) recruitment and training of guerrilla members; and (3) political radicalization among diaspora communities related to inter- and intra-community conflict, but also linked to ultra-nationalism. Individual European governments submit both narrative and statistical data that are used in regular Europol reports. In 2007, for example, the German government submitted information to Europol indicating that PKK affiliated radicals engaged in a total of 15 separate criminal attacks

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on Turkish commercial interests within one year. The vast majority of the attacks involved acts of arson against Turkish-owned travel agencies and banks, but also targeted mosques. The rise in criminal activity appeared to be motivated by the intensification of the Kurdish question in Turkey, in particular related to Turkish military raids against PKK encampments in northern Iraq. Reportedly, police forces in Belgium, France, the Netherlands, Slovakia, and Germany arrested PKK militants within EU borders. To the dismay of Turkey, the Court of First Instance of the European Union (PKK v. Council; Case T-229/02) annulled in May 2008 its earlier decision to authorize listing the PKK and Kongra-Gel (The People’s Congress of Kurdistan) on the official EU terror list.40 The panel of judges classified the available evidence as too weak to justify a continued listing of the PKK as a terror organization. Despite Turkish warnings that the court’s decision would provide the PKK with renewed opportunities to organize itself abroad, the outcome of the case had little actual impact. The PKK and its affiliated organizations continued to be investigated as criminal enterprises in individual member states of the EU. The PKK in Europe gained no additional operational space as a consequence of the court’s decision. While Zübeyir Aydar, chairman of the Belgium-based Kongra-Gel, expressed euphoria following the court’s decision, the German government intensified its efforts to pursue multiple criminal cases against PKK militants in 2008. German police raided and closed down the locally registered Roj TV affiliate VIKO Fernseh Produktion GmbH (part of the now illegal Mesopotamia Broadcasting Corporation) in the city of Wuppertal.41 The TV affiliate had been operating and disseminating nationalist Kurdish propaganda in North Rhine-Westphalia, a region with the largest number of Kurdish communities in Europe. Although supporters of Roj TV can continue to access its programming through satellite and Internet sites in Germany, the closure of VIKO was a significant loss to the PKK’s marketing and outreach efforts. German PKK branches publicly identified the German government as collaborating with the Turkish state by suppressing Kurdish political rights. It became clear that the PKK would feel compelled to respond to what they had identified as a serious challenge to the PKK’s influence in the country.42 In July 2008, a group of 13 German hikers near Mt. Ararat in Turkey suddenly faced armed militants. Three of the hikers were abducted by the People’s Defense Forces (HPG), the PKK’s military wing, but the militants released them unharmed two weeks later. According to German newspaper reports, the PKK initially demanded that in exchange for the release of the hikers “Berlin stop its hostile politics towards the Kurds and the PKK in Germany.” 43 When information about the hikers’ abduction in Turkey reached German intelligence circles (Bundesnachrichtendienst or BND) and the Federal Criminal Police (Bundeskriminalamt or BKA), security experts immediately established a joint communications center with

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Turkish intelligence services in an effort to free the abducted men. But the BKA also used longstanding contacts with PKK operatives in the city of Cologne (in the state of North Rhine-Westphalia) to initiate negotiations. Following the release of the hikers, Chancellor Merkel suggested in German media interviews that a ransom payment had been under consideration during the negotiations, but that it had not been paid. However, it is suspected that some type of payment had been made to speed up the release of the hikers.44 What is certain, however, is that a combination of several factors led to the eventual release of the kidnapped men. The direct channels of communication between German security agencies and European PKK circles provided basic negotiation parameters that afforded protection for the hikers. In the meantime, the Turkish military effectively pursued a strategy of encircling the militants near the Iranian border. Based on information shared by one of the hikers after his release, the guerrilla unit constantly changed in size once the Turkish military began to encircle them. Some guerrilla members melted away from the group during the night, while new members arrived surreptitiously in the small hamlets where the group rested. In the darkest hours of night, PKK members marched the hikers from location to location, hoping to avoid detection by Turkish forces. When the group started to race toward the Iranian border, Turkish troops moved to cut off the escape route. Realizing that they were faced with the possibility of being captured, the guerrillas felt compelled to release the hikers and then moved on. The incident confirmed that a heightened level of collaboration existed between the PKK and PJAK, the Iranian-based Kurdish guerrilla group that also uses northern Iraq as a safe haven. While the abduction and release of the hikers appeared to look like a failure for the PKK, that was not necessarily the case. The European PKK achieved a number of propaganda goals with the abduction. The German public and Kurdish diaspora communities instinctively understood that the militant organization had demonstrated its continued ability to act forcefully, and that it retained a high level of relevancy in the Kurdish conflict. The abduction of the hikers should not be understood as a hardened stage of PKK militancy in Europe. Instead, it signaled to the German public a warning to avoid Turkish vacation and hiking locations; the intention was to cause financial harm to popular tourist destinations. But while the PKK engaged in guerrilla activities and ambushes in Turkey, its leadership in Europe knew that it could not afford to compromise important fundraising and propaganda options abroad. Under most circumstances the PKK avoided extensive entanglement with security agencies in Europe. Since the late 1990s, PKK strategists have collaborated with Kurdish diaspora activists by establishing relationships with human rights organizations and lobbying groups to initiate transnational political networking efforts. The Kurdish diaspora, although strongly influenced by the PKK, moved

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away from the confrontational tactics preferred by the PKK. As a consequence, noticeable changes took place in the way in which European based Kurdish publications covered and disseminated political events related to Kurdish nationalism and the guerrilla war against the Turkish state. PKK-affiliated publications such as Serxwebun, Özgür Gündem and Özgür Politika, Kurdistan Rundbrief, and Rohani stopped the formerly common practice of printing long and detailed descriptions of “final heroic acts by martyred guerrilla fighters.” In 2000, Riza Erdoğan, the PKK’s European spokesperson at the time, explained in an interview with a German socialist publication called Junge Welt that “since the PKK decided to abandon its guerrilla strategy, it also had to overcome classical interpretations of conflict and struggle.”45 A transition period began that focused on politicizing the Kurdish question in Europe by encouraging the formation of Kurdish special interest groups and intensifying political lobbying efforts. Collaboration between members of the Kurdish interest lobby and the Kurdish diaspora showed promise through its influence on Turkish accession negotiations within the European Parliament.46 Kurdish exile groups and their sympathizers in various EU member states catapulted the Kurdish national issue to prominence in EU-Turkish relations as a consequence of political pressure campaigns.47 In essence, several political opportunities contributed to the formation of a Kurdish transnational political movement in the past decade. The PKK lost some of its credibility among diaspora Kurds after the capture of PKK leader Öcalan in 1999 when many in the diaspora began to express a preference to pursue political negotiations over a guerrilla campaign.48 And equally important, Turkey seemed to be vulnerable to pressure from the EU because of the country’s enormous interest in joining the EU, which elevated the Kurdish human rights agenda to a heightened stage. In light of these developments, a ferocious propaganda battle ensued between the Turkish state and the PKK. Representative spokespersons aimed to reach and influence Europe’s Kurdish diaspora and hoped to shift European public opinion. The most obvious area of contention between Turkish and Kurdish interests in Europe related to the control of media messages. For over a decade, the Turkish state tried to curtail, control, and crush the dissemination of ideologically framed interpretations of Kurdish nationhood in the European media. Ankara successfully pursued the closures of Med-TV in the UK in 1999 and Medya-TV in France in 2004.49 But Turkey’s government failed to convince Danish authorities to close down Roj TV, broadcasting from a station in Denmark, in 2005. In a major dispute between the Danish government and Ankara in 2005, Denmark rejected Turkey’s attempt to limit the freedom of expression of Kurdish opposition groups in Europe. When more than 50 elected Kurdish mayors linked to the Kurdish DTP faced prosecution in Turkey for having sent a signed letter to the Danish

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government in support of Roj TV, the Danish government flatly refused Turkish requests to withdraw the broadcasting license from Roj TV. Officials in Denmark decided that Roj TV did not represent a terrorist threat. According to Amnesty International, the Danish government considered it unacceptable that Turkish state authorities accused the leadership of the Kurdish DTP of “knowingly and willingly supporting the PKK” by requesting that a TV station retain its license.50 Media outlets such as Roj TV, Medya-TV, and Med-TV are famously controversial and operate as long as they retain a license in Europe. This is also the case for Kurdish Web portals that circumvent government controls or are listed on security reports as linked to the PKK, including Firat News Agency in the Netherlands and the now defunct Kurdistan Rundbrief and the renamed Yeni Özgür Politika in Germany. Based on statements posted on Kurdish Web sites, the closure of the German branch of Roj TV emerged as the most likely reason for the abduction of the German hikers in Turkey in 2008. Shortly after the PKK units released the three hikers, German Green Party member and former EU parliamentarian Cem Özdemir called on Turkey to revise its policy approach toward the Kurdish minority. 51 In an interview with Deutschlandradio Kultur, the outspoken German politician of Turkish ethnicity challenged the Turkish state to fully acknowledge the existence of the Kurdish minority. He proceeded to encourage Turkish society to pursue a political solution to the Kurdish conflict, and then described the Turkish military’s approach to the southeastern provinces as highly ineffective and even counterproductive.52 In official EU interactions, Özdemir presented challenging perspectives on a wide range of issues, including German-Turkish relations, EU migration policies, and human rights concerns. Between 2002 and 2008 he served on the Turkey-EU Joint Parliamentary Committee and the EU Foreign Affairs Committee. Turkish nationalists dismiss Özdemir as a voice affiliated with leftist political circles embracing radical Kurdish ideological positions. But Özdemir consistently expressed views in line with Germany’s Green Party, which espouses very critical views of Turkey’s reluctance to reform policies affecting the Kurdish minority’s socio-political reality. In the eyes of many Turkish immigrants, especially those who gained access to German citizenship in recent years, Özdemir personified the ever-increasing socio-cultural and political web that connects German and Turkish societies. His parents emigrated from Turkey and settled in Germany to pursue a brighter future for themselves and their son. Özdemir was the first person of ethnic Turkish descent to be elected to the German Bundestag (lower house of parliament) in 1994—a mere two years after he gained German citizenship. In 2009, some 24 politicians of Turkish or Kurdish descent represented constituencies in Germany’s lower house and state assemblies. Özdemir, the most widely recognized politician of Turkish ethnicity, served several terms as an influential member of European

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Parliament (MEP). In November 2008, Özdemir received sufficient party support to become co-chair of the German Green Party. As the very first ethnic minority to lead a German party, his fast rise to prominence elicited immediate comparisons to the election of Barack Obama in the United States. Özdemir, however, rejected the comparison as entirely exaggerated. But his influence at the EU level strengthened support for Kurdish cultural, linguistic, and political rights in Turkey. Over a period of six years in the EU Parliament, Özdemir’s record demonstrated his consistent interest in helping to resolve the Kurdish question and in advancing Turkey’s accession negotiations with the EU.53 At the EU level, another former representative from Germany provoked anger among Turkish nationalist circles. Kurdish-German MEP Feleknas Uca consistently objected to the poor treatment of Kurds in Turkey after her election to the European Parliament in 1999. Uca, a member of the Party of European Socialists (or the Confederal Group of the European Left) in the European Parliament, was the most obvious transnational link between elected Kurdish parliamentarians in Turkey and delegates in the European Union. Uca was often accused by Turkish officials of allegiance to the PKK because she frequently traveled to Diyarbakir and other southeastern Kurdish towns to observe and document changes to the political conditions in Kurdish regions.54 She consistently demanded a more judicious EU reporting system for human rights violations.55 Uca also held regular meetings with members of the Kurdish DTP. The obvious question that arose for observers of transnational Kurdish activism is whether her pressure made a substantial difference. To what extent her interactions and exchanges shaped Kurdish transnational mobilization and political activism is unclear, since many moderate Kurdish activists in Turkey purposefully stayed away from her. Fueling nationalist Turkish suspicions that she represented the PKK in the EU Parliament, Uca had released regular comments about the treatment of Kurds in Turkey on Web sites linked to YEK-KOM. She accused the Turkish state of “increasing levels of human rights violations affecting Kurdish politicians, civil society organizations, and mayors of various cities.”56 Her official German Web page featured photos of herself with well-known Kurdish opinion leaders in Europe and in Turkey, including a photo of her with the rapper Azad.57 In 2009, her party lost public support and she could not return as a delegate to the EU Parliament. While street protests and awareness-raising campaigns in EU member states publicized and reinforced Kurdish concerns, it was political lobbying that remained a favorite tactic for the transnational Kurdish movement. A convincing example related to a spring 2007 campaign that encouraged German-speaking Kurds to forward a Confederation of Kurdish Associations in Europe (KON-KURD) petition to delegate Uca. This petition demanded that the European Council’s Committee for the Prevention of

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Torture (CPT) send an independent medical team to Imrali in Turkey, where PKK leader Öcalan is imprisoned.58 Uca, as well as other left EU delegates, directly solicited support from Kurdish organizations for a narrow Kurdish issue (the treatment of PKK leader Öcalan) and couched it as a larger human rights concern. Ample public records demonstrated at the time that this was a common pattern of communication between Kurdish diaspora groups and Uca’s office at the European Parliament. The renewed interest by members of the European Parliament regarding the question of Turkish accession has intensified Kurdish political activism through legal channels. The EUTCC, the EU Turkey Civic Commission, which was established in 2004 by a number of non-profit groups for example, succeeded in formalizing and legitimizing interactions between MEPs, Kurdish civil society organizations in Europe and in Turkey, and international academics. KON-KURD, the Confederation of Kurdish Associations in Europe, suggested on its Web page that it shared the goals of the EUTCC.59 Turkish researchers regularly proposed that the PKK made significant inroads into mainstream European political circles and that the organization had to be stopped by anti-terror agencies.60 Despite the political activism and the heightened sense of Kurdish nationalism, its politicized offspring in Europe failed to establish Kurdish ideological unity on a broader scale. Kurds in Europe have not articulated a common political agenda and Kurdish civil society actors appear unable or unwilling to agree on publicly identifiable positions or representative voices. The absence of clear and unifying leadership among Kurdish organizations in Europe appears to have weakened the ability of Kurds to gain support among mainstream political circles. But several pragmatic reasons explain why unity within the Kurdish diaspora and among Kurdish elites may not be realistic. Essentially, the Kurdish diaspora operates as an unauthorized challenger community that gains little from seeking authorization by governments or public officials in Europe. Kurdish nationalist mobilization is most effective in opposition to state control rather than in collaboration with authorities. Şivan Perwer’s performance with rapper Bero Bass in front of a banner depicting imprisoned PKK leader Öcalan during the March 2010 Newroz (New Year) celebrations in the city of Düsseldorf, Germany, is a case in point. A youthful Kurdish fan explained that the New Year celebrations are “all about revolution and resistance against repression,” while he listened to the musical performance of a song called “Blick Richtung Sonne (Look Toward the Sun).”61 In a YouTube version of this song, Perwer tells his Kurdish fans to “never give up, be very strong and tough, defend and love your country, your people.” Many Kurdish civil society organizations continue to exchange information with the PKK or its affiliated organizations in Europe. This reality forces Kurds to operate in a political space filled with disagreement and friction, and

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results in them often standing accused of collaboration with militant groups. The lack of a unified Kurdish position makes the relationship between artists, musicians, intellectuals, and militants in the Kurdish diaspora and Kurdish groups in Turkey appear confused and disjointed to the outside world. Without a doubt, there is ongoing discord among Kurdish groups, but this dysfunction also serves a purpose. Internal dissension and the lack of a clearly articulated and shared nationalist vision can actually provide a form of protection for Kurdish political activists. European security agencies find it harder to assign accountability and more difficult to take action against often transient decision-makers.

Conclusion R

Solving the Puzzle

QUO VADIS? Disoriented and displaced by decades of repression, Kurdish people in Turkey’s southeastern provinces have been dehumanized, stigmatized, and marginalized. Portrayed as terrorists and domestic enemies of the nation, they have been accused of resisting state-sponsored progress and modernization. Yet when Kurdish communities did not resist the state’s assimilation and bureaucratization campaigns, the Kurdish people, their culture and their identity were in danger of vanishing—subsumed by the Turkish state bent on enforcing national homogeneity. Repeatedly, Kurdish leaders learned that their communities were not central to the state’s interests, and that their only option available to be heard was to politically or violently force the government into concessions. When the AKP maintained its parliamentary majority in 2007, Kurdish communities expressed cautious hope that the interests of the dominant party and those of minority Kurds would converge. After all, neither religious voters nor ethnic Kurdish voters had been granted permission to enter national politics before. Following this notable election, Prime Minister Erdoğan hinted that overlapping interests among socially conservative voters, liberal elites, and those held by the Kurdish minority would introduce a new political direction in Turkey. It seemed that the voices of Kurdish intellectuals and cultural leaders would matter for the first time in a decade. In 2008 the Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation, better known by its acronym TESEV (Türkiye Ekonomik ve Sosyal Etüdler Vakfi), published a noteworthy report analyzing the predicaments of the Kurdish

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question in Turkey. The report, entitled “A Roadmap for a Solution to the Kurdish Question: Policy Proposals from the Region for the Government,” was intended to steer the country’s political leadership toward a holistic solution to the entrenched conflict.1 TESEV’s report examined numerous policy options and initiatives and put forth a series of proposals that had been raised and discussed by Kurdish civil society actors in a Diyarbakir workshop. The 30 participants consisted of university faculty, representatives of women’s organizations, legal experts, intellectuals, local government officials and business leaders. They discussed diverse interests that ranged from regional economic concerns to legal reforms and cultural projects. As a result of this workshop, the foundation focused on several recommendations that would assist the AKP government in reaching out to the Kurdish minority. Yet despite the efforts of TESEV researchers to consult with Kurdish civil society actors, Turkey’s political leadership promptly dismissed and ignored TESEV’s grassroots consultations. The AKP government seemed determined to launch a decidedly more top-down Kurdish Initiative during the summer of 2009. Divergent political perspectives between Kurdish representatives and the AKP emerged very quickly. The policy suggestions that had been advanced by Kurdish community leaders focused on social justice, culturally based schooling for children, political representation, and targeted economic reforms. Kurdish leaders also discussed how to address broader concerns that related to the internal displacement of communities, violence perpetrated by government sponsored village guards, and the devastating impact of the PKK’s continued use of landmines. A consensus emerged among participating Kurdish civil society actors that a wide range of constituencies needed to be consulted in order to successfully negotiate an agreement between Kurdish communities and representatives of the state.2 Such a process, according to Kurdish perspectives, would have to integrate groups the state considered to be militant and confrontational—a controversial approach from the AKP’s point of view. The AKP was not receptive to anything resembling negotiations with the PKK. Regional Kurdish civil society representatives, however, advised against ignoring or marginalizing perspectives expressed by sympathizers of the PKK. They proposed that it would be necessary for the government to listen to all voices that played a role in shaping regional Kurdish socio-cultural, economic, and political demands.3 Representatives of the PKK, they argued, would need to endorse a solution to the Kurdish question for an initiative to be successfully implemented. Such a step, according to workshop participants, would “require a general amnesty, ending the isolation of Abdullah Öcalan on Imrali Island, and ensuring secure places for PKK members in society.”4 But within the inner circle of the AKP leadership meeting such demands was perceived as pernicious to a Kurdish Initiative, as it would seem to condone and even dignify a violent, terrorist history. The

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government, therefore, quickly dismissed the workshop recommendations as unacceptable to Turkish society. As a result, the AKP government deemed all consultations with radical Kurds as counter-productive to a state-initiated resolution of the Kurdish question. As the government’s top-down approach took shape in the fall of 2009, the Kurdish DTP vehemently opposed it, declaring the so-called initiative to be not an opportunity, but a mere mechanism to gain votes for the AKP. To shift the momentum back to its own interests in the predominantly Kurdish areas, the PKK engaged in a clever public relations effort in October 2009. PKK leaders sent two small groups of unarmed PKK supporters across the border from northern Iraq into Turkey at a check-point called Habur Gate. Pro-Kurdish media outlets in Turkey and Europe described the groups as “Kurdish peace envoys, messengers of peace, or peace groups” to emphasize the symbolic value of their unarmed border crossing. The larger of the two groups consisted of 34 members who arrived mainly from the northern Iraqi Makhmour (or Mahmur) Refugee Camp. This particular camp was a long-standing sore point in negotiations between Iraq and Turkey, and negatively impacted Turkish-Kurdish relations because of suspected PKK networks linking Kurds in Turkey to Kurds in Makhmour.5 For over a decade, the Turkish military classified Makhmour as problematic to its campaign of weakening the PKK’s regional recruitment strategies. Originally established by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), this refugee camp had been located across the border from Turkey in the Iraqi area of Atrush in Dahuk province. As a consequence of the war between the Turkish military and the PKK, some 15,000 to 18,000 Kurdish refugees from Turkey amassed in this area during the particularly violent years of 1993 and 1994.6 Throughout the 1990s, the Turkish military aggressively pursued PKK units across the border into Iraq, bombing the area around Atrush with regularity. For security reasons UNHCR then decided to move at least 15,000 Kurdish refugees from Dahuk province farther south to Makhmour in 1998, which is located some 60 km south of Erbil. But prior to relocating the camp, several hundred Turkish-Kurdish refugees were thought to have approached the PKK for protection from internal IraqiKurdish violence.7 These connections created opportunities for the PKK to expand its contacts within the encampment. By the late 1990s the PKK succeeded in establishing extensive networks within the refugee camp. As is typical for such camps near disputed border regions or in ungoverned spaces, militants set up structures that offered additional protection to refugees, used camps for recruitment efforts, and provided disillusioned teenagers with training to carry out missions as guerrilla fighters.8 Despite these complicated and increasingly entrenched circumstances, UNHCR officials pursued the goal of dissolving the Makhmour camp starting in 2007. Turkey would have to accept and manage the resettlement

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effort of thousands of Kurds, many of whom escaped repression in Turkey in the early 1990s. Turkey’s official assessment of the potential repercussions of reintegrating Kurdish refugees into Turkish society was in sharp contrast to UNHCR’s position regarding Makhmour. A member of Turkey’s foreign ministry expressed alarm and national security concerns to the daily newspaper Today’s Zaman when he stated that “the Makhmour camp is associated with a place which was turned into a safe haven for terrorists,” and “Turkey’s priority regarding Makhmour is terrorism.”9 This discrepancy between UNHCR’s assessment of the camp as a humanitarian effort and a Turkish view, even if expressed anonymously, that Makhmour had become a breeding ground for terrorists was a significant gap to bridge. Knowing Turkish nationalists’ grave suspicions of refugees coming from Makhmour, the PKK’s leadership decided to test Turkey with the peace envoy tactic. Kurdish refugee families were mixed with a handful of fighters who crossed the border. PKK affiliated media outlets in Europe, including Firat News Agency, emphasized that the event was a trust building measure endorsed by Öcalan. But in language differing greatly from the ideological messages disseminated by some Kurdish publications, Radio Free Europe described the crossing of unarmed PKK guerrilla members into Turkey as an act of “surrender.”10 From the vantage points of the centrist nationalist Turkish opposition party, the Republican People’s Party (CHP), but also the ultra-nationalist and right-wing Nationalist Movement Party (MHP), the AKP government would be endorsing “a de facto amnesty arrangement for PKK terrorists” if it failed to immediately arrest and imprison the group members that crossed into Turkey.11 The AKP found itself in the difficult position of defining itself by its next action. Before the Habur Gate events, a growing segment of Turkish society had expressed support for exploring alternatives to counter-insurgency measures to effectively deal with the PKK. According to an extensive opinion poll project carried out by the Foundation for Political, Economic and Social Research (SETA) in coordination with PollMark, 43 percent of all survey respondents supported the government’s Kurdish Initiative and 62 percent rejected the negative attitudes of opposition parties to the government’s plans.12 In addition, 71 percent of the poll’s respondents considered the methods used by the state against the PKK as having failed, and 65 percent believed that even if a military campaign against the PKK succeeded, this outcome alone would not resolve the Kurdish issue at large because of lingering socio-cultural, economic, and political dimensions to the Kurdish conflict. Public perceptions indicated that the AKP government’s Kurdish Initiative seemed to offer a good-faith opportunity for reconciliation between the Turkish state and the Kurdish minority. Yet it did not include a clear plan of action about how to address the PKK. When the eight PKK fighters, unarmed but in combat fatigues, participated in the border crossing, the

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AKP faced an unpredictable political situation. As soon as the “Kurdish peace envoys” arrived in Turkey, group members were welcomed in rambunctious celebrations that brought together thousands of Turkish Kurds. Local branches of the Kurdish DTP had arranged for Kurdish activists to gather along the border crossing so that they could cheer the arrival of the groups and witness the unfolding events. Once the Kurdish groups had crossed into Turkey, they boarded pre-arranged buses to take them to Diyarbakir for further celebrations, parades, and political speeches. In contrast to the experiences of members of a 1999 PKK “peace group,” whose members remained in Turkish prisons for terrorist activities a decade after they had crossed into Turkey, the 2009 “peace envoy” participants were only temporarily detained for questioning. After having been processed by border guards, they were all released, but the majority of them faced arrest and prosecution during the following spring of 2010. Despite these lingering legal battles, it appeared that the PKK’s tactics worked. Instead of being ignored or dismissed by the Turkish government, the PKK managed to slightly advance its narrow agenda of gaining more influence in the southeastern provinces. The guerrilla organization clearly assumed that an increase in popularity would assist in a general amnesty arrangement for Kurdish fighters who desired to return to Turkey. The arrival of the “peace groups” was a highly effective publicity stunt by the PKK, since it displayed the organization’s powerful hold over the region. Secondarily, the PKK demonstrated its willingness to negotiate with the government under certain parameters. The political dynamics surrounding the Harbur Gate border crossing require a closer analysis to examine the underlying reasons for a rapid collapse of the government’s Kurdish Initiative shortly thereafter. Within hours of the border crossing, international media outlets covered the celebratory events held in Diyarbakir and other cities, and awaited a response from the Turkish government to the nonviolent provocation. Questions arose regarding the PKK’s inclusion in a negotiation process to end the insurgency, and images from the region seemed to indicate that the PKK controlled extensive networks able to mobilize thousands of Kurds to emphasize this point. From the perspective of PKK sympathizers, the “peace groups” had sent a clear message to Turkish society; namely that the PKK was ready to engage in high level talks with the government. Initially, the AKP government welcomed the idea of Kurds leaving their mountain bases in northern Iraq to return to Turkey, despite differing views within the state’s bureaucracy and military establishment. Prime Minister Erdoğan praised the arrival of militants as a “positive development” and Interior Minister Atalay suggested that more Kurds would come down from the mountains as a consequence of the government’s plan to reach out to Kurds.13 But once it became clear that the arrival of the Kurdish “peace groups” was a highly orchestrated publicity stunt with the purpose to rally

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support for the Kurdish DTP, the government faced vitriolic criticism from nationalist Turkish parties and organizations. Kurdish nationalists took full advantage of this opportunity to demonstrate regional strength and unity. An emotional and hopeful Kurdish public joined to affirm and celebrate its ethnic identity in opposition to the state’s long-standing practices of dehumanizing Kurdish communities and relegating their interests to national obscurity. Kurdish parades and public speeches quickly focused on messages that intended to embarrass the government and reinforced the dominant influence of the PKK. Turkish anger increased further after media images were disseminated that depicted large scale Kurdish festivities to welcome PKK members as regional heroes. Analyst van Wilgenburg compared Turkish responses to celebrations that welcomed “Kurdish peace envoys” to the outrage expressed by victims of the Lockerbie bomber al-Megrahi after he received a grandiose welcome in Libya.14 To some extent, it was the negative public reaction to the regional Kurdish celebrations and disgust with the Kurdish DTP’s claim to have encouraged the “peace groups” to enter Turkey that brought the AKP’s Kurdish Initiative to a sudden halt. The AKP could neither claim that the government had convinced PKK members to surrender, not did it appear to have gained voters in the predominantly Kurdish regions. It became clear that the AKP naively believed it was possible to benefit politically from granting the former combatants entry into Turkey. In fact, it was predominantly the Kurdish DTP and the PKK that benefitted from the publicity campaign during the fall of 2009. The highly orchestrated events surrounding the Harbur Gate crossing indicated that the PKK pursued a clearly defined agenda to reshape the AKP government’s outreach to the Kurdish minority. Several factors dominated the strategic decision-making process of the PKK: the need to be recognized as a legitimate representative; a desire to demonstrate political relevance; and an increasing sense that time could run out because the PKK’s field commanders and its imprisoned leader were getting older. The tactical steps taken by the PKK during the campaign of “peace envoys” prepared the guerrilla organization to take a carefully calculated position for a negotiated arrangement with the Turkish government. Since the PKK perceived itself as having sacrificed thousands of its guerrilla fighters for a worthy cause in an insurgency that had lasted for over a quarter-century, its leadership would not accept a marginal position in any negotiation process. The PKK clearly grasped the AKP government’s intentions linked to pursuing a top down approach to resolving the Kurdish conflict. While the AKP emphasized a reduction of the regional influence of the PKK by excluding and emasculating its leadership as illegitimate and irrelevant, the PKK sought to undermine this tactic and instead assert itself. From the perspective of the PKK, the government’s top-down Kurdish Initiative presented a direct challenge to its influence and legitimacy in the

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region and needed to be stopped. The arrival of the “peace groups” allowed the PKK to reshape its image, demonstrating to Kurdish constituents a serious desire to engage in a negotiated arrangement with the government. The vast majority of Kurds in Turkey understood this message clearly, ignoring the fact that the AKP had expressed no interest in negotiating with the PKK. Turkish officials regularly emphasized a process of disarmament and surrender, not a negotiation process with the PKK. Yet, entirely undeterred by the government’s expectations, the PKK pursued increasingly narrow goals: official recognition as a representative of the Kurdish population, an amnesty arrangement for its guerrilla members, and their reintegration into society. Having created expectations among Kurds that peace was possible and even within reach, the PKK hoped to compel the government to accept the notion that it would not be feasible to attain a peaceful arrangement with the Kurdish minority without consulting the PKK. In anticipation of the arrival of the “peace groups,” the Kurdish DTP and other PKK-affiliated organizations had prepared for two potential responses by the government: one option was that group members would be arrested and imprisoned upon arrival; alternatively, the government could grant permission to former combatants to enter Turkey. The PKK, in coordination with the DTP, planned to use either decision to advance its regional legitimacy and relevance. If “peace group” members faced arrest at the border, the PKK would claim that the olive branch had been rejected and that the government’s Kurdish Initiative could not be trusted. An arrest would have been followed up with massive demonstrations in solidarity with the PKK, an outcome the AKP government loathed more than anything. The alternative option, the one the government selected, was to permit the members of the “peace groups” to enter Turkey in a show of good will. However, the AKP was unprepared for the thousands of Kurds who showed up to celebrate the arrival of the guerrilla members. The PKK gained an opportunity to demonstrate its mobilization capacity and influence in the region through the use of welcoming parades and mass demonstrations. This outcome embarrassed the government because it helped to legitimize the PKK in the eyes of many Kurds in the southeastern provinces. Finally, the PKK’s less frequently publicized reason for sending “peace envoys” related to the ageing of its leadership. To make progress toward negotiating a peace deal that included the PKK, the organization had to push aggressively for an arrangement with the state. After decades of fighting the insurgency, entire generations of PKK guerrilla members had died in battle; in concrete terms this meant that most rank and file units did not survive more than about five years in the field. A guerrilla fighter who joined the PKK a decade ago would most likely have lost most if not all of his or her comrades. Over time PKK recruiters found that it had became harder to sustain satisfactory conscription levels for the PKK from inside Turkey. This encouraged the PKK to more actively pursue European-born Kurds,

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Iraqi and Iranian Kurds, and especially Syrian Kurds as foot soldiers. Both Iran and Syria continued to provide fertile political environments for the PKK’s recruitment efforts as the repression of Kurdish communities intensified in recent years. But it would be difficult to sustain the insurgency for another decade or more. The pressure to demonstrate results and the desire to be invited to the negotiation table increased over the years because the PKK’s leadership now consisted of men in their fifties and sixties. All of the leaders felt a sense of urgency, including Öcalan, Murat Karayilan, the PKK’s chairman and acting commander in northern Iraq, and Cemil Bayik, a member of the PKK’s executive council and the field commander in charge of coordinating with the Iranian PJAK. The struggle had lasted much longer than anticipated and guerrilla members experienced increasing levels of poverty and deprivation in the field. The few surviving founders of the PKK started to reflect on their historical legacies. Clearly, time was beginning to run out if they hoped to achieve an autonomous arrangement within Turkey that guaranteed the recognition of extensive political rights for the Kurdish minority. Öcalan in particular was motivated by a deep-seated need to be internationally acknowledged for his leadership along the lines of a Yasir Arafat or Nelson Mandela. Since his imprisonment in 1999, Öcalan never signaled that he would empower or authorize a group of younger leaders within the PKK. He mostly appeared paranoid of being replaced at the top of the organization. While the PKK managed to disrupt the government’s version of the Kurdish Initiative, it did not succeed in establishing new circles of legitimacy beyond already motivated constituencies. The speed with which the government’s Kurdish Initiative unraveled during the winter of 2009, however, was astounding to many observers. Following the constitutional court’s ban of the Kurdish DTP in December 2009, state prosecutors initiated a series of criminal proceedings against “peace group” members. By spring 2010, a total of 17 “peace group” participants faced criminal charges for involvement with or membership in the PKK and for spreading terrorist propaganda. According to information released by the Diyarbakir branch of the Human Rights Association (Insan Haklari Derneği or IHD) individual members could expect prison sentences of between 18 months and 7.5 years.15 In comparison to the sentences handed out in 1999, which ended in life terms for several PKK members, state prosecutors requested significantly lower prison terms for members of the 2009 “peace groups.”16 Despite these changes, the political atmosphere in the southeastern provinces was not encouraging. Kurdish activists and civil society leaders faced increasing levels of judicial harassment and politicized scrutiny. In the eyes of the Kurdish public, the AKP government confirmed that it never had made a true commitment to solving the Kurdish conflict. Instead, it seemed that the AKP had engaged in lip service; initially the AKP appeared willing

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to offer essential concessions to the Kurdish minority, but ultimately refused to listen, compromise, and negotiate. In a series of political missteps, the AKP engaged in counterproductive and reactionary policies that disclosed how dismissive the government had been to a grassroots initiated and organic peace process in the southeastern provinces. International non-profit and human rights organization confirmed this sense among Kurdish civil society actors. For example, the International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH) and the World Organization Against Torture (OMCT) protested the arrest of Muharrem Erbey, at the time the acting vice president of Turkey’s Human Rights Association and president of its Diyarbakir branch.17 By the end of December 2009, Erbey had been incarcerated for supporting the PKK. His Diyarbakir offices were raided by police who searched for evidence that would link his human rights work to criminal activities. Swept up in the prosecutorial zeal to close down all suspicious Kurdish civil society organizations and political offices, the state expanded its crack-down beyond the PKK. Kurdish DTP offices became targets as well as the homes of local human rights representatives, their legal teams, and supportive journalists. By January 2010, more than 1,500 Kurdish political actors including influential elected city council members and mayors had been arrested. The intensity of the state’s effort to curtail political activities in Kurdish communities became apparent as grassroots organizations faced systematic exclusion from a consultative process with the state. Growing levels of protest and violent street battles between police forces and politicized Kurds indicated disappointment and anger among Kurdish communities. Analyst Gareth Jenkins observed that the active social dialogue in Turkey regarding the Kurdish Initiative became a mere monologue as the AKP attempted to identify limited concessions without involving Kurdish representatives.18 For all practical purposes, the government’s version of a Kurdish Initiative went dormant by 2010.

HYDRA-HEADED KURDISH ORGANIZATIONS The AKP’s lack of interest in accepting a wide spectrum of Kurdish voices led to a growing sense among Kurdish civil society actors that the government never intended to recognize broad-based Kurdish sociocultural and political demands. In the months after Interior Minister Beşir Atalay announced the Kurdish Initiative, no clarity ever emerged as to which Kurdish representatives the state would address to advance a negotiated solution to the Kurdish conflict. Kurdish civil society actors categorized the AKP leadership as having over-promised and under-delivered in the region. This criticism seemed particularly relevant in comparison with Turkey’s marked improvements in its regional foreign relations. Turkey’s

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foreign minister Ahmet Davutoğlu had achieved significant progress through a foreign policy dynamic that was broadly labeled “zero-problems with neighbors.” A consistent focus on resolving disputes ended longstanding conflicts with the Syrian and Iraqi governments. But at home in Turkey the Kurdish question continued to fester. In the immediate aftermath of the constitutional court’s ban on the Kurdish DTP, the levels of violence that erupted on the streets of many cities were reminiscent of clashes between security forces and protesters a decade earlier. Kurdish DTP co-chairs Ahmet Türk and Aysel Tuğluk, along with dozens of other Kurdish-elected official, were excluded from participating in political parties for a period of five years. Already in October 2009, Marlies Casier, Andy Hilton, and Joost Jongerden published a rather grim assessment of the Turkish government’s pursuit of a Kurdish Initiative in the Middle East Report Online (MERO).19 The researchers cautioned that: The immediate prospects do not look good. The apparent closure of the opening bolsters radical Kurdish nationalists in their view that it is near impossible to resolve the conflict peacefully. The rapid collapse of the political space for compromise deepens the PKK’s and Kurdish suspicions of the Turkish state. Hopes rose high with the entry and the subsequent release of the “peace groups.” But given the halt called by the prime minister, and the snail’s pace of progress on the core issues the PKK began fighting for in the first place, disillusionment is setting in once more. The scattered PKK attacks on Turkish soldiers in the summer and fall, meanwhile, proved to Turkish nationalists that the opening is best shut, permanently.20

Many analysts feared that the ban on Kurdish DTP representatives would lead to increased guerrilla activity and encourage a further radicalization among younger generations of Kurds.21 PKK commander Karayilan, as expected, insinuated that one of the consequences would be a rise in violence perpetrated by Kurds who live in Istanbul and along the Aegean. In an interview with Reuters following the arrests of Kurdish political leaders in Turkey, Karayilan acerbically stated that “the base for a political solution is being destroyed.” 22 A deep sense of resentment toward the Turkish government linked to unfulfilled expectations had taken hold of the Kurdish population. Many now feel bitter about having to face waves of violence instead of working toward a political solution. Emre Uslu, a Turkish analyst, predicted that the coming year would be a particularly difficult one for the Turkish state as well as for the PKK.23 He argued that the PKK appeared positioned to use TAK as a proxy force to carry out targeted bombings and assassinations, and that PKK commander Cemil Bayik had threatened to remove the AKP as a political force from the southeastern provinces.24 If the analyst’s assessments were to prove accurate for 2011, the PKK believed that its chances for participating in future negotiations would improve because the AKP was expected to lose

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all legitimacy among Kurdish voters in the region. Secondarily, the PKK would then appear as the less radical option in contrast to other Kurdish groups such as TAK. Both scenarios are possible, as the PKK remains focused on bolstering its relevance and legitimacy in the region. But a campaign of violence and terror, even if executed by TAK units rather than the PKK, would not accomplish lasting results. If TAK members did the dirty work for the PKK, including the indiscriminate bombings of civilians and the targeting of foreign tourists, it would be just a matter of time before government forces and anti-terror units would identify such links. The outcome of such tactics would be a loss of credibility not only domestically but also in the international community, where political representatives of various Kurdish interest groups are still expected to evolve into a more accountable political force. To this day, it remains unclear to what extent TAK units operated as a splinter group of the PKK, who ordered past bombings that were carried out by TAK, and if TAK would fully cooperate with the PKK in the future. It is quite likely that the PKK will be taking a page from its own European playbook to push for a new version of a Kurdish Opening in the coming years. Initial signs indicate that the PKK has embraced a political strategy that attempts to close the gap between its European tactics and its approach in Turkey. The dual strategy of separating the military campaign from political efforts served the PKK well in the European context. Undoubtedly, PKK units located in northern Iraq can be expected to continue to engage in guerrilla activities when opportunities arise. To be relevant, the PKK must remind the Turkish state that an insurgency is underway. PKK leaders will continue to claim the right to self-defense against the Turkish military, insist on pushing Turkish society into acknowledging the Kurdish minority’s claims, and demand an end to air raids on its encampments as a condition for peace. But the PKK does not want to lose credibility by randomly targeting civilians, which would undermine its currently robust position in the southeastern provinces. Despite having lost faith in the effectiveness of European support networks in the past several years, the Kurdish political movement is becoming increasingly dependent on its cooperation with legitimate international networks and organizations. Kurdish civil society representatives understand the advantages of collaborating with European parliamentarians, who continuously demonstrate a commitment to demanding ethno-cultural rights of the Kurdish minority and push for further democratization in Turkey. Kurdish civil society actors use extensive reports published by international nonprofit organizations, and benefit from public relations activities of leftist activist groups in Europe. Mesut Yeğen, a well-known scholar at Middle East Technical University, argued that “as long as Turkey remains a candidate for EU membership, outside demands to remove restrictions on Kurdish cultural expressions will continue to increase. . . . Turkey’s progress toward EU

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membership seems to be fortifying the present status of Kurds in Turkey as a second territorial-linguistic community and thus also has worked to dispel the meta-image of Kurds as prospective-Turks.”25 International expectations that Kurds have to be fully recognized as a minority in Turkey have significantly influenced resistance patterns in the southeastern provinces. Increasing awareness of international attention encourages the explicit use of a dual strategy by the PKK to achieve Kurdish self-government within the structure of the Turkish state. While the demands articulated by the PKK and its affiliated organizations have not changed significantly, the delivery of the message now emphasizes a broader political strategy of coordination and collaboration. A generational shift within the Kurdish movement is underway, which offers opportunities to pragmatists to engage in negotiations. Kurdish lawyers, human rights activists, journalists, politicians, and educators prefer to move away from relying on the mobilization of demonstrators in the streets of predominantly Kurdish towns. While hardliners still believe that it is important for the PKK to rely on youthful Kurds to engage in so-called direct action, pragmatists fail to see how street violence advances the demands of the larger Kurdish community. Yet as long as the PKK perceives the need to exert influence in the region and Kurdish political groups make little substantial progress, Kurdish youth will receive encouragement to employ black bloc tactics to resist authorities. These tactics were successfully employed by the PKK in Europe to gain notoriety and media attention throughout the 1980s and into the mid1990s. A similar pattern is emerging in Kurdish dominated areas, although in a more decentralized pattern than in Europe. Teenage Kurds organize themselves around a protest event, announce it on Web sites or communicate through text messages, wear masks and scarves to avoid identification by military police units, and engage in flash mob violence by burning cars and garbage cans, and throwing rocks and Molotov cocktails to express their rage. Cultural manifestations of ethnic Kurdishness among young Kurds range from political blogging and poetry to traditional Kurdish music and rap band battles to give voice to the rage they feel about systemic discrimination and racism, the denial or denigration of their ethnicity, the lack of opportunities, and the repressive power structures in place. Parallel to youth violence, pragmatists pursue a political angle through the newest incarnation of an ethnic Kurdish party, which is expected to operate slightly more independently of the PKK. But the question remains if it will be possible to increase pressure on the Turkish state to negotiate an end to the insurgency. There is little doubt that the coming years will be decisive for the Kurdish political movement. Already in 2008, in anticipation of the forthcoming ban on the DTP, Kurdish parliamentarians formed an ethnic Kurdish successor party. This replacement party, known as the Peace and Democracy Party or BDP, is now co-led by Selahattin Demirtaş and Gülten Kışanak. The formation of the BDP offers an

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opportunity to implement revised political tactics for the Kurdish movement. Demirtaş gained significant prior experience through his legal work for the board of the Diyarbakir branch of the Human Rights Association (IHD) and as a parliamentarian for the Kurdish DTP since 2007. In a typical arrangement for ethnic Kurdish parties, the co-leader of the BDP is a woman, who also gained expertise as a former DTP parliamentarian. Kışanak replaced Aysel Tuğluk, the female co-leader of the banned Kurdish DTP.26 The role of women as political co-leaders in ethnic Kurdish parties theoretically parallels the PKK’s mandate to empower women in the region. However, no high level female guerrilla commanders have emerged within the PKK, despite an estimated 40 percent female rank and file and the rise of women to low level leadership in northern Iraq.27 But within the political arena, the DTP and the BDP have emphasized women’s rights, women’s education, and emancipation as part of their platforms. Both parties consistently empowered women to take on principal positions as parliamentarians and to accept lead roles by addressing political networks abroad. This practice is bound to produce influential and respected women leaders, who will articulate alternatives to resolving the Kurdish question with increasing frequency and efficacy. The Kurdish BDP is expected to implement several changes in 2010 and 2011. Substantive efforts have been made by BDP representatives to build stronger alliances with “various platforms and initiatives such as the Turkish Peace Assembly, [the] United Movement for Democracy, [the] Women’s Initiative for Peace. . . . democratic individuals and forces such as women’s organizations, youth organizations, leftists, socialists and feminists are our fundamental allied forces,” explained female parliamentarian Sebahat Tunçel in an interview with kurd.net in March 2010.28 As a party, the BDP is clearly focused on evolving into a national power rather than accepting constraints that relegate it to the status of a regional party. This effort will require international cooperation because the BDP is expected to challenge the undemocratic 10 percent hurdle to participate in national elections. European members of parliament have repeatedly agreed that this 10 percent rule discriminates against all small parties, but in particular negatively impacts ethnic Kurdish parties. Also, the BDP has brought official charges against the Turkish government to the European Court of Human Right (ECHR) for indefinitely detaining Kurdish political and civil society leaders without disclosing the exact charges. To Turkey’s governing party, the AKP, this reincarnated ethnic Kurdish party will become a growing annoyance as the EU has lost its patience with Turkey’s obstinacy. Without significant progress toward democratization in Turkey, including minority rights and electoral reform, the country’s journey to full membership will become an exceptionally long and winding path. Every player involved in the Kurdish question understands that the PKK’s insurgency will not be defeated without the implementation of familiar

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measures, regardless of the number of guerrilla fighters or PKK encampments Turkey’s armed forces manage to destroy. The most essential steps Turkey’s government must take relate to the full recognition of ethnic and linguistic rights for Kurds, and the decentralization of bureaucratic state structures that have disempowered local authorities so far. While an ingenious tactic a few years ago, it has become unacceptable for Turkey’s political leadership to hide behind the military when it is convenient, and then to blame the high command for “securitizing” the Kurdish question. Turkey’s military leadership is no longer participating in this game either. Instead, Turkey’s elected government must develop a comprehensive strategy to resolve the Kurdish question through the integration of political, social, cultural, and economic measures that thereby remove the high command from the center of this conflict. This is the only acceptable step to take if Turkey hopes to ever become a full EU member. The thorniest aspect of future negotiations with Kurdish representatives will involve the PKK’s demands that the state grant a general amnesty for its fighters, their eventual reintegration into Turkish society, and improved conditions for imprisoned leader Abdullah Öcalan. The BDP’s role will be to represent the interests of Kurdish communities and to advance the political and cultural recognition of the minority, while the PKK prioritizes its more limited needs to gain recognition as the organization that forced Turkey to grant political and cultural space for Kurdish communities. Despite widely felt disillusionment and cynicism among both Turkish and Kurdish civil society actors who worked tirelessly to create improved conditions for peace on the ground, some progress has been made. A Kurdish proverb expresses the current stalemate best: “one flower does not make spring.” Diyarbakir spring has not yet arrived, but the next time a political initiative is announced with the intention to resolve the Kurdish conflict, lip service will be dismissed immediately and the parameters for negotiation will have to emphasize an authentic integration of grassroots voices.

Appendix A R

Kurdish Populations

Total estimate: 26–30 million Iran Iraq Syria Turkey Europe Caucasus

Lebanon Israel

6–7 million, about 10 percent of the population 5.5–6 million, about 20 percent of the population 1–1.5 million, about 7 percent of the population 12–14 million, about 18 percent of the population (although some estimates go up to 23 percent) 1.5 million (an estimated 500,000 to 800,000 reside in Germany) 300,000 (Armenia = 1.8 percent of population, Azerbaijan = 2.5 percent of population, and Georgia = less than 1 percent of population) up to 100,000 up to 100,000

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Appendix B R

Maps

Map of Turkey. (Credit: ABC-CLIO)

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Appendix B

Map of Kurdistan. (Credit: Robert Yoder)

Appendix C R

Timeline

1923

Turkey declares itself a republic and Mustafa Kemal Atatürk is selected to become the first Turkish president.

1920s–1930s

Multiple Kurdish revolts take place in Turkey’s Kurdish regions including the Sheik Said rebellion, uprisings in the province of Dersim, and the Ağri (Ararat) rebellions.

1950

Turkey permits its first open elections. The opposition Democrat Party wins.

1960

Turkey’s military carries out a coup and the Democrat Party is removed from power.

1971

The military forces the resignation of elected Prime Minister Suleyman Demirel.

1974

Turkey’s armed forces invade northern Cyprus.

1978

November: Abdullah Öcalan forms the PKK as a Marxist-Leninist group with the aim to pursue an independent Kurdish homeland.

1980

Turkey’s military carries out a coup and imposes martial law. The PKK establishes its bases in neighboring Syria.

1983

The PKK establishes contacts with the Iraqi KDP (Kurdistan Democratic Party) and sets up bases in northern Iraq.

1984

August: PKK guerrillas initiate the insurgency in the southeastern provinces of Turkey.

1990

Turkey permits a U.S.-led coalition to pursue air strikes against Iraq from Turkish bases.

1991

March: Iraqi Kurds rebel against Saddam Hussein.

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1992

Turkey authorizes a major military offensive against PKK encampments located in northern Iraq.

1994

Major clashes take place between Kurdish factions in northern Iraq. More than 1,000 people are killed and some 30,000 Kurds leave their homes and become refugees. The KDP (Kurdistan Democratic Party) dominates the northern region along the Turkish border and the PUK (Patriotic Union of Kurdistan) controls the southern region.

1995

Turkey initiates a second major military offensive against PKK guerrillas in northern Iraq by sending 35,000 troops to hunt for guerrilla encampments.

1998

September: The United States brokers an agreement for a power sharing arrangement in northern Iraq between the KDP and the PUK. October: Abdullah Öcalan is expelled from Syria. He applies for asylum in a number of European countries, is denied, but receives permission from the Greek government to hide in a house maintained by the Greek government in Nairobi, Kenya.

1999

February: Öcalan is captured in Kenya. July: Öcalan’s death penalty is commuted to life imprisonment.

2002

November: The AKP (Justice and Development Party) wins Turkey’s parliamentary elections in a landslide.

2003

March–May: The PKK announces a unilateral cease-fire, but in May guerrillas kill more than 30 Turkish soldiers in the southeastern provinces and full hostilities resume. March: Turkey’s parliament denies the U.S. military access to airbases in preparation for a land invasion of Iraq.

2004

June: Another cease-fire arrangement between the Turkish military and the PKK collapses. The fighting between Turkish troops and the PKK intensifies and the death toll rises. December: The EU agrees to initiate accession discussions with Turkey for 2005.

2005

April–August: Major clashes between Turkish troops and PKK guerrillas occur in the southeastern provinces of Bingöl, Hakkari, Siirt, and Tunceli.

2006

January–September: Fighting occurs throughout the Southeastern provinces and along the Turkey-Iraq border. Turkish troops die in ambushes and IED attacks. Major clashes occur between troops and PKK guerrillas in the provinces of Batman, Bingöl, Bitlis, Diyarbakir, Hakkari, Şirnak, Siirt, and Van. August-September: TAK (Kurdistan Freedom Falcons) units carry out a series of deadly bomb attacks in Istanbul and in resort towns

Appendix C

209

along the Mediterranean coast killing and injuring Turkish civilians and foreign tourists. September: The PKK declares another unilateral cease-fire. 2007

January: Armenian journalist and community activist Hrant Dink is assassinated in Istanbul. Spring: Speculation increases that Turkey will authorize a largescale incursion into northern Iraq to eliminate PKK threats. May–December: Major clashes occur between Turkish troops and PKK guerrillas in the provinces of Bingöl, Bitlis, Diyarbakir, Erzincan, Hakkari, Mardin, Şirnak, Siirt, and Tunceli. The use of landmines, IEDs, ambushes, and suicide bombers intensifies the fighting. December: Turkey launches airstrikes into northern Iraq to weaken the PKK.

2008

February–October: Turkey initiates another military offensive against the PKK in northern Iraq by sending in 10,000 Turkish troops. Turkey intensifies the aerial bombing raids against PKK mountain encampments. The PKK’s continued use of landmines, IEDs, and ambushes along the border regions and throughout the provinces of Bingöl, Erzincan, Hakkari, Şirnak, and Tunceli cause significant loss of life. October: The trial against members of the ultra-nationalist Ergenekon group begins.

2009

February: Kurdish protesters mark the 10th Anniversary of Öcalan’s capture and clash with military police in the southeastern provinces. April: The PKK announces another unilateral cease-fire. Summer: Turkish Prime Minister Erdoğan meets with Kurdish DTP (Democratic Society Party) co-leader Ahmet Türk to discuss a resolution to the Kurdish conflict. Expectations rise that the Kurdish Initiative will lead to peace in the region. October: PKK “peace envoys” and Kurdish refugees cross the border at Harbur Gate into Turkey. December: Turkey’s constitutional court bans the Kurdish DTP. The Kurdish Initiative unravels amid public unrest in the predominantly Kurdish provinces.

2010

January: More than 1,500 Kurdish political actors including influential elected city council members and mayors are arrested. April: The PKK ends its cease-fire from 2009 and resumes attacks. May: The Turkish armed forces go back to heavy aerial bombardments of PKK encampments in northern Iraq. An estimated 40,000 lives have been lost in the conflict since 1984.

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Appendix D R

Profiles of PKK Leaders ¨ CALAN ABDULLAH O Öcalan, born in 1948, grew up in the Turkish village of Ömerli, Urfa Province, which is located just north of the Syrian border. As the son of a marginalized and impoverished peasant family, Öcalan managed to gain entry to Ankara University to study political science. In 1978, he and fellow students founded a Marxist-Leninist guerrilla organization called the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK). As the leader of the PKK, Öcalan launched an armed struggle for an independent Kurdish state in the southeastern provinces of Turkey in 1984. Before the 1980 military coup in Turkey, he left for neighboring Syria to establish his guerrilla structures across the border. The PKK became known as a ferocious guerrilla group in the 1990s, but also suffered tremendous losses. In the mid-1990, Öcalan pursued a change in the PKK’s objectives by embracing demands for Kurdish autonomy within Turkey rather than insisting on Kurdish independence from Turkey. Until 1998 Öcalan had been based in Syria, but when the Turkish government threatened Syria over its support for the PKK, Öcalan was forced to leave. He was captured in Kenya in 1999 and transferred to a prison on Imrali Island in the Turkish Sea of Marmara. Öcalan is said to continue to influence the PKK’s ideological direction through communiqués and orders distributed by his legal team.

MURAT KARAYILAN Karayilan, the PKK’s acting field commander, is in his mid-fifties and was born in Turkey. He chairs the council of the Kurdistan Democratic

212

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Confederation (KCK), and rotates from encampment to encampment in the Kandil mountains of northern Iraq to avoid capture by Turkish forces. Karayilan claims to control up to 8,000 guerrilla fighters, half of which are ensconced in the wooded valleys and hilltop encampments of Iraq, while the other half are distributed throughout various provinces in Turkey. He offers regular media interviews in northern Iraq and communicates with sympathizers in the European diaspora through satellite connections on a regular basis.

CEMIL BAYIK Bayik, born in 1951 in the southeastern province of Elaziğ, studied in the Department of Language and Literature at Ankara University. There, he met Öcalan and belonged to the inner circle of PKK founders. Bayik is said to be very loyal to Öcalan and may have executed hundreds of PKK members for supposedly undermining or weakening the hierarchical structure of the PKK. He serves as the PKK’s link to Iranian Kurds who are affiliated with PJAK or the Party for a Free Life in Kurdistan. He hides in encampments and underground bunkers on the Iranian side of the Kandil Mountain range. As one of about a dozen executive leaders on the council of the Kurdistan Democratic Confederation (KCK), an umbrella organization that connects the command structures of the PKK and PJAK, he continues to influence both military and ideological decision-making. In the 1990s, Bayik led the PKK’s military wing, the People’s Liberation Army of Kurdistan (ARGK), but experienced numerous defeats.

DR. BAHOZ ERDAL (ALSO KNOWN AS FEHMAN HUSEYIN OR HUSSEIN) Erdal is a Syrian Kurd and high level commander within PKK structures. He also has led a PKK military wing, the People’s Defense Forces (HPG), and belongs to the triumvirate along with Karayilan and Bayik that took control of PKK structures after Öcalan’s imprisonment. Some Turkish security analysts suspect that Erdal may be the leader of the Kurdistan Freedom Falcons (TAK), which carried out a series of vicious urban bombings between 2006 and 2008.

RIZA ALTUN AND DURAN KALKAN Altun operated as the PKK’s transnational money manager from his base in France, but was probably killed in northern Iraq during the summer of 2007. Kalkan, a former guerrilla commander and a member of the Kurdistan Democratic Confederation (KCK), is said to have replaced Altun. Kalkan

Appendix D

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managed the PKK’s finances in Germany in the late 1980s and early 1990s before returning to northern Iraq to evade arrest warrants. He currently lives in PKK encampments and may have accepted the role of a commander once again.

ABDUL RAHMAN HAJI AHMADI Ahmadi is the leader of PJAK (The Party for a Free Life in Kurdistan), which is the PKK’s Iranian Kurdish affiliate. Ahmadi, an Iranian Kurd born in 1941 and trained as an agricultural engineer, is today a German citizen. For several months during the year, he lives in an apartment in Cologne, but also spends extended periods of time in PJAK training camps in the Kandil Mountains. Ahmadi was arrested in June 2010 by German police, but quickly released without having to face charges. Tehran requested his extradition, but the German government declined to hand over a German citizen to the Iranian regime.

¨ BEYIR AYDAR, REMZI KARTAL, ADEM UZUN, ZU AND FARUK DORU Aydar, born in 1961 in the predominantly Kurdish province of Siirt, studied law at Istanbul University before becoming a parliamentarian for the Kurdish DEP, a pre-curser to the Kurdish DTP. Following the constitutional court’s ban on the DEP in Turkey in 1994, Aydar applied for political asylum in Europe and then settled in Belgium. The Turkish government has accused him and others of managing the European branch of the PKK or KongraGel (Kurdistan Democratic Federation), which is the political wing of the PKK. In June 2010, Belgian authorities arrested Aydar along with a number of other Kurdistan National Congress (KNK) members including former DEP and DTP members Remzi Kartal, Adem Uzun, and Faruk Doru for involvement with financial transactions to PKK accounts. Turkish authorities were expected to request their extradition but it was unclear if the Belgian government would honor it. Numerous well-known academics and political figures in Europe protested the arrests as counter-productive to finding a political resolution to the Kurdish conflict. They called the coordinated arrests a “witch hunt” that was orchestrated in Ankara. A Belgian judge released Aydar and his co-defendants three weeks after their initial arrest for lack of evidence.

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Notes

INTRODUCTION 1. Ihsan Daği, “Democratic Transition in Turkey, 1980–83: The Impact of European Diplomacy,” Middle Eastern Studies 32, no. 2 (April 1996). 2. Emek Uçarer, “Kurdish Refugees,” in Immigration and Asylum, ed. Matthew J. Gibney and Randall Hansen, vol. 2, 373 (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC CLIO, 2005). 3. For an examination of the psychology of war in the case of My Lai, see Jonathan Glover, Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001), 58–63. 4. Dr. Karl Barbir in the History Department at Siena College pointed out that naming the child Welat served another purpose. In Turkey the name refers to an audacious or impudent child or boy, which added to the significance of the name choice. 5. Hamit Bozarslan, “Alevism and the Myths of Research,” in Turkey’s Alevi Enigma, ed. Paul J. White and Joost Jongerden (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 2003), 10. 6. To access the 2007 Minority Rights Group International report entitled A Quest for Equality: Minorities in Turkey, see http://www.avrupa.info.tr/Files/MRGTurkey Report%5B1%5D.pdf. 7. Ibid., 11. 8. Estimates suggest that up to 30 million Kurds are dispersed throughout the region. Some 50 percent of the Kurdish population lives in Turkey, another 25 percent in Iraq, some 15 percent in Iran, and 5 percent in Syria. The remaining 5 percent of Kurds live in the Caucasus region (Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan) and in Western Europe (predominantly in Germany). 9. This section is based on exchanges with Turkish protesters in Istanbul in November 2007, who informed me of the meaning of their protest signs. The full phrase, I was told, should read “Şehitler ölmez, vatan bölünmez!” and can be translated as “Our martyrs never die—you can never divide our motherland!”

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10. For further details, see Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, originally published by Princeton University Press in1962, and reprinted by Syracuse University Press in 2000. , 11. Michael M. Gunter, The Kurds and the Future of Turkey (New York: St. Martin s, 1997), 61–65; Michael M. Gunter, “An Interview with the PKK’s Öcalan,” The Journal of Conflict Studies vol. 18, no. 2 (Fall 1998); Henri Barkey and Graham Fuller, Turkey’s Kurdish Question (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998), 17. 12. I spent several weeks in Düsseldorf, Duisburg, and Darmstadt during January 2010 and took the opportunity to engage in numerous conversations and political exchanges with civically engaged voters about the state of the Kurdish Initiative in Turkey.

CHAPTER 1 1. These remarks were offered by Metin Camciğil during the 25th Energy Conference “Addressing Vulnerabilities: Science & Technology in Secure Energy Systems” in October 2002 in Washington DC. 2. Disparaging labels are frequently used by nationalist and secular Turks to describe religious members of society. For example, see Dilek Zaptciolğu’s observations related to this issue in his article The Crux of Modernization posted on Qantara.de February 27, 2007 at http://www.qantara.de/webcom/show_article.php/_c-301/_nr-84/_p-1/i.html. 3. In the early 1990s Graham E. Fuller argued that Kurdish cultural rights are profoundly repressed in Turkey. He also suggested that it is possible to assimilate under specific conditions into mainstream society. See his article “The Fate of the Kurds,” Foreign Affairs 72, no. 2 (Spring 1993). 4. For a fascinating examination and a reframing of Turkish-Arab relations, see Basheer M. Nafi, “The Arabs and Modern Turkey: A Century of Changing Perceptions,” Insight Turkey 11, no. 1 (2009): 67. 5. Sedat Laçiner, a leading analyst for the Ankara based think-tank International Strategic Research Organization (USAK), explored connections between neoOttomanism and Özalism in an article available online at http://biibf.comu.edu.tr/ sedatlacinermak.pdf. Ömer Taspinar with the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace is among the most prominent U.S.-based policy analysts to advance the concept of neo-Ottomanism. See Ömer Taspinar, “Turkey’s Middle East Policies,” Carnegie Paper 10 (September 2008). 6. Andrew McGregor, “Turkey’s Dark War: Counterterrorism Strategies for the 21st Century,” Terrorism Monitor 5, no. 14 (July 19, 2007). 7. Some 200,000 people died in a total population of 13 million in Guatemala and 75,000 people died in a total population of approximately 5 million in El Salvador as a consequence of the internal wars. 8. See, e.g., Jeremy Salt, “Turkey’s Military Democracy,” Current History (February 1999):72–78 and Cenğiz Çandar, “Redefining Turkey’s Political Center,” Journal of Democracy 10, no. 4 (1999): 129–141. 9. For insightful observations on this point and its practical application in Turkish society, consider Jenny B. White, Islamist Mobilization in Turkey: a Study in Vernacular Politics (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2002), 35. 10. For a discussion on the limitations of using Turkish interpretations of political Islam as a model for other countries, see M. Hakan Yavuz, “Is There a Turkish Islam? The Emergence of Convergence and Consensus,” Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs 25, no. 2 (October 2004): 1–22.

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11. For example, consider M. Hakan Yavuz, Islamic Political Identity in Turkey (London: Oxford University Press, 2003). 12. See Nilüfer Göle, The Forbidden Modern (Michigan University Press, 1997). 13. For a more detailed discussion, consider Charles Taylor, Modern Social Imaginaries (Duke University Press, 2004). 14. I would like to express my appreciation to Dr. Ahmet Sözen, Director of the Cyprus Policy Center and Professor at Eastern Mediterranean University, for his thoughtful insights, his astute remarks, and his willingness to share these proverbs in the context of a conversation related to democratization efforts in Turkey. He enriched my perspective on identifying opportunities for a constructive approach to resolving the Kurdish conflict. 15. This comment also emerged out of my conversation with Dr. Ahmet Sözen, followed by several e-mail exchanges to clarify interpretations of Turkish proverbs in relation to civic consciousness in Turkey. 16. Such sayings are not unique to Turkey, of course. One may want to reflect on German pastor and theologian Martin Niemöller’s famous poem “First they came . . .” that described Germany’s intellectuals as unwilling to challenge the Nazi regime once it began to purge specific sub-groups of people. Here is my translation of one version of Niemöller’s poem: First they came for the Communists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist; And then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist; And then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew; And then they came for me And by that time there was no one left to speak up. 17. See a recent EU report entitled European Instrument for Democracy and Human Right: Turkey Program for information on targeted funding for such civil society groups at http://ec.europa.eu/europeaid/where/worldwide/eidhr/documents/turkey_eidhr_pro jects_en.pdf. 18. I would like to thank Emre Uslu for his willingness to engage in several long conversations with me. His helpful remarks and analytical insights contributed to this project. In 2008–2009 Uslu worked as a security analyst for the Jamestown Foundation, a thinktank located in Washington, D.C. He is now teaching at Yeditepe University in Istanbul. 19. For a journalistic account that contextualizes the cruelty employed by PKK guerrilla members toward persons classified as traitors or collaborators, see Scott Peterson, “Turkish Kurds: some back the state,” The Christian Science Monitor, July 6, 2007. 20. An unidentified Kurdish protester and presumable PKK sympathizer volunteered this remark during a conversation with me in Düsseldorf, Germany, in January 2001. 21. For further information, see Jane’s Intelligence Review “Report on PKK Financing” posted on March 13, 2008 at http://www.silkroadstudies.org/new/docs/publications/2007/0803JIR-PKK.pdf. 22. See the on-line journal Eurozine for the article by Claus Leggewie, entitled “Privilegierte Partnerschaft, Weniger Demokratie.” The article can be retrieved in English at http://www.eurozine.com/articles/2008-07-08-leggewie-de.html.

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23. Şerif Mardin is among the most widely respected Turkish scholars to insist on a more historical analysis of the interpenetration of religious and secular forces in Turkey. See, e.g., Şerif Mardin, “Center-Periphery Relations: A Key to Turkish Politics?” Daedalus 102, no. 1 (Winter 1973): 169–190, and “Turkish Islamic Exceptionalism Yesterday and Today: Continuity, Rupture and Reconstruction in Operational Codes,” Turkish Studies 6, no. 2 (2005): 145–165. 24. Bloggers posted this comment on Roj Bash Kurdistan. 25. For a comprehensive look at the organizational structure, leadership style, and operations of the PKK, read Aliza Marcus, Blood and Belief: The PKK and the Kurdish Fight for Independence (New York University Press, 2007).

CHAPTER 2 1. “Hoffnung und scharfe Kritik; Steinmeier, Gül und Pamuk eröffnen Buchmesse,” Deutsche Presse Agentur, October 14, 2008. 2. “Turkey Guest of Honor at Frankfurt Book Fair,” Turkish Daily News, August 16, 2008. 3. “Turkey—Annual Report 2008,” Reporters sans Frontières, 2008. The full report is available at http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=25503. 4. Dominik J. Schaller and Jürgen Zimmerer, “Late Ottoman genocides: the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire and Young Turkish population and extermination policies,” Journal of Genocide Research 10, no. 1 (March 2008): 7–14. 5. Henriette Wrege, “Aufruf zur Gewalt als Meinungsfreiheit,” Deutsche Welle, November 22, 2007. 6. The complete country rankings from Reporters sans Frontières can be retrieved at the following webpage: http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=24025. 7. The 2007 Freedom House report can be found at the following website: http:// www.freedomhouse.org/template.cfm?page=251&year=2007. 8. Ibid. 9. Bianet News receives funding from the European Union and is available in English at http://www.bianet.org/english/news# 10. Erol Önderoğlu, “Writer Defends Himself Against Minister’s Accusations in a Freedom of Expression Case,” Bianet, December 11, 2008. 11. Recent Turkish media interviews conducted with PKK guerrilla members in the Kandil Mountains of Iraq created some doubt as to the validity of the government’s assertion that the PKK still pursues the creation of an independent Kurdish state in Turkey. A Hürriyet reporter, convicted in 2008 of acting as a spokesperson for the PKK and consequently fined €50,000 for having interviewed PKK members, reported for example that some guerrilla members did not support an independent Kurdistan. This information challenged longstanding assertions by the military and created a flurry of legal activities against the publisher and the reporter. 12. Michael P. Roth and Murat Sever, “The Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) as Criminal Syndicate: Funding Terrorism through Organized Crime,” Studies in Conflict and Terrorism 30 (October 2007): 901–920. 13. These remarks reflect comments made by Turkish Prime Minister Erdoğan on January 9, 2008 at the 44th Munich Conference on Security Policy, Hotel Bayerischer Hof in Munich, Germany. His full speech can be accessed on line at: http://www .securityconference.de. 14. Soner Cağaptay and Fikret Cem S., “Europe’s Terror Problem: PKK Fronts Inside the EU,” The Washington Institute for Near East Policy, Policy Watch 1057 (December 2, 2005).

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15. In a 2008 publication, LTC Perry Clark of the Army War College argued that the PKK is tied to lucrative transnational criminal organizations. Clark recommended the elimination of the PKK in the region to protect long-term U.S. interests. This position clearly does not represent official U.S. policy. For further information, see Perry Clark, Reassessing U.S. National Security Strategy: The Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), Army War College, Carlisle Barracks, PA (March 2008): 1–27. 16. According to an analysis provided by Senem Aydin and Fuat Keyman, Turkey found itself subjected to military and political demands by the Bush administration right before the Iraq war was initiated. Turkey rejected U.S. requests for troop deployments from southern Turkey on March 1, 2003, because it feared the destabilization of its impoverished and Kurdish populated southern regions, a weakening of economic ties to the Middle East, and an interruption in the country’s access to oil reserves. However, the authors also argued that U.S.-Turkish relations improved quite quickly after the initial experience with the rejection of troop deployments. Senem Aydin and Fuat Keyman, “European Integration and the Transformation of Turkish Democracy,” CEPS-EU Turkey Working Paper 2, August 2004. 17. “Turkish Drug Smuggler Faces US Sanctions,” Turkish Daily News, June 2, 2008. 18. Fuat Keyman and Ziya Öniş, Turkish Politics in a Changing World (Istanbul: Bilgi University Press, 2007), 307. 19. Ann Scott Tyson and Robin Right, “US Helps Turkey Hit Rebel Kurds in Iraq,” The Washington Post, December 18, 2007. 20. A shortened summary about this report is available and can be found in English at http://www.bianet.org/english/kategori/english/112816/retired-diplomats-and -generals-urge-solution-to-kurdish-issue. 21. I surveyed numerous sources and found significant variations in the reported number of deaths related to the insurgency and PKK guerrilla forces. It appears that the database information available from the University of Uppsala’s Department on Peace and Conflict Research is reasonably accurate. In contrast, information provided by Turkish sources, also listed by the University of Uppsala, asserts that an estimated “38,000 guerrilla members and a total of 4,418 Turkish soldiers died in the conflict until 2001, and some 5,400 civilians were killed. The numbers of dead PKK rebels provided by the Turkish government seem inflated, and are clearly under dispute in the country.” 22. The United States Institute of Peace offers a vast digital collection of documents related to negotiated agreements and could provide various blueprints for alternative approaches to the Kurdish question in Turkey. See http://www.usip.org/library/pa.html. 23. Vlaams Blok and Vlaams Belang split off from Volksunie (now called NV-A or New Flemish Alliance). In contrast to the right-wing character of Vlaams Belang, NV-A and its splinter parties emphasize a pro-European agenda that opposes revolutionary ideals. The leadership of NV-A pushes for increased Flemish autonomy but rejects the right-wing agenda and rhetoric of Vlaams Belang. 24. Turkey’s search for a new social contract was first articulated by Hakan Yavuz in his article entitled “Search for a New Social Contract in Turkey: Fetullah Gülen, the Virtue Party and the Kurds,” SAIS Review 19, no. 1 (Winter 1999): 114–143. 25. EurActiv.com is managed by a Belgian Foundation that focuses on the dissemination of information related to policies endorsed by the European Union. The full interview with Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn is available on-line at http:// www.euractiv.com/en/enlargement/olli-rehn-turkey-membership-vital-eu/article -167807. 26. Jacob M. Landau, Radical Politics in Modern Turkey (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1974), 288.

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27. Soon-Yong Pak’s ethnographic study provides outstanding insights into thoughts and feelings expressed by teachers, students, and parents of imam-hatip schools in Ankara. The article was published in Anthropology and Education Quarterly 35, no. 3 (2004): 325–344. The quote is taken from pages 337–338. I also spoke with several former, graduated iman-hatip students, who rejected Pak’s observations as too limited. They overwhelmingly rejected the idea that iman-hatip schools contributed to Islamist thinking. 28. For further insights into Yüksel’s perspective, see Edip Yüksel, “Cannibal Democracies, Theocratic Secularism: The Turkish Version,” Cardozo Journal of International and Comparative Law 7 (1999), 423. Also of interest are his remarks on liberal Islam at www.19org an organization he founded in the United States. 29. “Headscarf ban tension reduced at Boğaziçi University,” Turkish Daily News, September 26, 2008. Şule Kulu, “Tensions eased at Boğaziçi, solution expected soon,” Today’s Zaman, September 25, 2008. “Lifting the Headscarf Ban, Promoting Turkishness,” Turkish Daily News, January 15, 2008. In February 2008, Turkey’s parliament passed amendments that lifted the headscarf ban on university campuses. This vote was followed by a request of the chief prosecutor of the court of appeals that the constitutional court pursue a ban against the AKP for “anti-secular activities.” The constitutional court ruled that the lifting of the headscarf ban in universities was unconstitutional. 30. Yildiz Atasoy, Turkey, Islamists, and Democracy, (London: I.B. Tauris, 2005), 9–10. 31. This quote is taken from a report filed by Charles Bremner, “Burka makes women prisoners, says President Sarkozy,” New York Times, June 23, 2009. 32. In part, these comments reflect issues raised by Hakan Yavuz at the Middle East Studies Association, Washington, DC, on Nov. 25, 2008. He suggested that three types of Kurdish sub-groupings need to be considered in any analysis of Kurdish social and political activism. They are: (a) Kurdish secularists (among them PKK supporters), (b) assimilated Kurds, and (c) Islamic Kurds (split between followers of the Gülen movement and those in support of Kurdish Hizbullah). 33. Ibid., 6-10. 34. In 1998 the constitutional court banned the Welfare Party led by Necmettin Erbakan, and in 2001 the court prohibited the existence of the Virtue Party. As recently as July 2008, secularists attempted to close down the governing Justice and Development Party (AKP) because of Islamist activities (in part related to the lifting of the headscarf ban at universities). 35. Katrin Bennhold, “Spurning Secularism, Many French Muslims Find Haven in Catholic Schools,” The New York Times, September 30, 2008.

CHAPTER 3 1. Erhan Üstündağ, “Closing Party does not solve Kurdish issue,” Bianet, March 13, 2008. The term “Kemalist warhorse” was taken from a German website that discussed the ideological orientation of the chief prosecutor at http://www.qantara.de/webcom/ show_article.php/_c-476/_nr-986/i.html. 2. For specific details regarding the initial closure case against the DTP, see Gareth Jenkins, “DTP Presents Final Defense in Closure Case,” Eurasia Daily Monitor 5: 177, September 5, 2008.

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3. Oral Çalişlar, “The closure case against the DTP,” Turkish Daily News, September 17, 2008. 4. Yigal Schleifer, “Turkey: Kurdish Party Prepares for Return to Parliament,” Eurasia Insight (July 27, 2007). 5. Mustafa Akyol, “Turks, Kurds, and the Tower of Babel,” Turkish Daily News, April 12, 2008. 6. For an outstanding compilation of case-studies related to immigrant minority languages across Europe, see Guus Extra and Kutlay Yağmur, Urban Multilingualism in Europe (Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Ltd., Cromwell Press, 2004). 7. “Erdoğan defends military in fight against terror,” Turkish Daily News, October 17, 2008. 8. Gorka Espiau Idoiaga, “The Basque Conflict: New Ideas and Prospects for Peace,” United States Institute of Peace, Special Report 161 (April 2006). 9. The full June 2008 USIP Briefing on FARC is available at http://usip.forumone.com/ files/resources/1_8.PDF. 10. Kerem Öktem, “Being Muslim at the Margins: Alevis and the AKP,” Middle East Report Online 246 (Spring 2008). Available at http://www.merip.org/mer/mer246/ oktem.html. 11. Sabrina Tavernise, “Turkish Premier Reaches Out in an Important Kurdish City,” The New York Times, February 22, 2009. 12. Doğan Özgüden participated in an interview with Eurinfo, a weekly TV program produced by the European Parliament. The segment that featured his comments is called Minorities in Turkey and was posted on the Eurinfo website in March 12, 2008. 13. Jacob M. Landau, Radical Politics in Modern Turkey (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1974), 69–70. 14. Ibid., 66–67. 15. These remarks are based on e-mail exchanges and communications between the author and Doğan Özgüden during the month of October 2008. 16. Ibid. 17. The paragraph is based on reports published by the London-based organization Minority Rights Group International (MRG) and its Turkey Project Coordinator Nurcan Kaya. Also see a July 4, 2007 article entitled “Minority Rights Group deplores actions against local authorities providing services in languages other than Turkish,” available at http://www.minorityrights.org/?lid=1790. 18. Daniel Steinvorth, “Erdoğan striking nationalist tones,” Spiegel Online, December 9, 2008. The article is available at http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/ 0,1518,595430,00.html. 19. This joke was widely circulated in Turkey and shared with the author by ethnic Kurdish informants in Germany.

CHAPTER 4 1. The title is taken from Carolyn Forché’s edited collection of poetry of witness featuring writers who endured unspeakable repression and horrors of war in the twentieth century. She included Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet in her volume. He suffered persecution and imprisonment for his communist ideals and died in Russian exile in1963, but he has remained Turkey’s best-loved poet. The Turkish government recently restored his citizenship.

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2. Kandal Nezan, “The Kurds under the Ottoman Empire,” in A People without a Country, ed. Chaliand (London: Zed Press, 1980), 19. 3. This section relies heavily on the following historians and social scientists: Martin van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaikh and State: the Social and Political Structure of Kurdistan (London: Zed Books, 1992). Gerard Chaliand (ed), A People Without a Country: The Kurds and Kurdistan (London: Zed Books, 1980). Robert Olson, The Emergence of Kurdish Nationalism and the Sheikh Said Rebellion, 1880–1925 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1989). David McDowall, The Modern History of the Kurds (London: I.B. Tauris, 1996). 4. See McDowall, 12–13. 5. Woodrow Wilson, “A program for peace,” Joint Session of Congress, January 8, 1918. 6. Kandal Nezan, “Kurdistan in Turkey,” in A People without a Country, ed. Chaliand, 81–86. 7. For specific details on the motivations among Kurdish tribal elites, see Martin van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaikh and State: The Social and Political Structures of Kurdistan (London: Zed Books, 1992), 267–268. 8. Martin van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaikh and State, 279. 9. Erik Jan Zürcher, Turkey: A Modern History (London: I.B.Tauris, 2004), 171–172. 10. As quoted in Andrew Mango, Atatürk: The Biography of the Founder of Modern Turkey (Woodstock, New York: The Overlook Press, 1999), 425. 11. Ibid., 422. 12. David McDowall, The Modern History of the Kurds, 190–191. 13. Ibid., 207–209. 14. Kandal Nezan, “Kurdistan in Turkey,” in A People without a Country, 72. 15. I would like to thank Taner Akçam for his willingness to share his insights and analysis with me. 16. For the entire speech by Rudd to parliament, see http://www.aph.gov.au/house/ rudd_speech.pdf. 17. Sabrina Tavernise, “Where Traditional and Modern Meet and Sashay Along,” The New York Times, December 5, 2006. See also, Leyla Neyzi’s web page at Sabanci University for further information about her work at http://myweb.sabanciuniv.edu/ neyzi/ 18. This quote is taken from the preface of Taner Akçam, A Shameful Act: The Armenian Genocide and the Question of Turkish Responsibility (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2006), 12. Akçam has been targeted by a vicious media campaign that portrays him as a Turkish terrorist and traitor. Turkish ultra-nationalists and neofascists want to stop the dissemination of his leftist views, his research and publications on the Armenian genocide. 19. For more detailed information, see Robert Olsen, “The Kurdish Rebellions of Sheikh Said (1925), Mt. Ararat (1930), and Dersim (1937-1938): The Impact on the Development of the Turkish Air Force and on Turkish and Kurdish Nationalism,” Die Welt des Islams 40:1 (2000), 67–94. 20. Ibid. 21. Nader Entessar, Kurdish Ethnonationalism (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1992), 86–87. 22. See Martin van Bruinessen, “Genocide in Kurdistan? The suppression of the Dersim rebellion in Turkey (1937-38) and the chemical war against the Iraqi Kurds (1988),” in Genocide: Conceptual and Historical Dimensions, ed. George J. Andreopoulos (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994), 141–170.

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23. “Ein geschundenes Volk,” Spiegel Spezial 6, 2008, 38–40. 24. For one account of events that took place in Dersim, see the Kurdistanreport 141, published in Germany in February 2009, http://www.nadir.org/nadir/periodika/kurdistan _report/2009/141/index.htm. 25. Leyla Neyzi, “Exploring Memory through Oral History in Turkey,” in Balkan Identities: Nation and Memory, ed. Maria Todorova (New York: New York University Press, 2004), 60–76. 26. See the following CNN site for information about Amanpour’s report on twentieth century genocides at http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/europe/11/20/ sbm.overview/index.html. 27. Molyneux-Seel’s entire account, “A Journey in Dersim,” can be found in The Geographical Journal 44:1 (July, 1914), 49–68. The quote is taken from page 49. I would like to thank Vera Saeedpour for directing me to this account. 28. Ibid., 50. 29. The full declaration can be found at http://www.info-turk.be/363.htm#Joint. 30. Ibid. This declaration was signed by the Association of the Democrat Armenians of Belgium, the Associations of the Assyrians of Belgium, the Kurdish Institute of Brussels, the European Armenian Federation, and the Info-Türk Foundation. 31. As quoted in Kandal Nezan, “Kurdistan in Turkey,” in A People Without a Country, ed. Chaliand, 65. 32. For details, see Will Kymlicka, Multicultural Odysseys (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 61–66. 33. Metin Heper raised this issue in a panel discussion in Boston at the Middle East Studies Association conference in November 2010. He suggested that elite and secular power structures including the military rejected group rights as unsuitable for the country. 34. Jörg Friedrich, Der Brand: Deutschland im Bombenkrieg 1940–1945 (Munich: Propyläen Verlag, 2002). 35. Stephen Kinzer, Crescent and Star (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2001), 89–90. 36. Janet Klein, “Conflict and Collaboration: Rethinking Kurdish-Armenian Relations in the Hamidian Period, 1876–1909,” in Identity and identity Formation in the Ottoman World, eds. Baki Tezkan and Karl K. Barbir (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), 154. 37. Ibid., 158–159. 38. David McDowall, The Modern History of the Kurds (London: I.B. Tauris, 1996), 418. 39. Ibid., 419. 40. This conversation took place in August 2008 in the Altstadt of Düsseldorf, Germany. The young Kurdish man asked not to be identified by name or school district. 41. Ayce Aktürk, Hakki Haylir, and Ahmed Tiğran, “A Foot in Australia, Three Souls in Kurdistan,” in Fire, Snow, and Honey: Voices from Kurdistan, ed. Gina Lennox, 477–492 (New South Wales: Halstead Press, 2001). 42. Will Day, “The Politics of Poverty in Turkey’s Southeast,” Middle East Report 247 (Summer 2008): 24–26. 43. Ibid., 24. 44. Ibid. 45. Vera Eccarius-Kelly, “The Kurdish Conundrum in Europe,” in Migration and Activism in Europe since 1945, ed. Wendy Pojmann (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2008), 66.

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46. For information, see activist organizations that have worked with Kurdish families to reverse such policies at http://www.nadir.org/nadir/initiativ/kurdi-almani-kassel/ kultur/buecher/kurdnamen.htm. 47. I asked two Turkish business owners about their thoughts and concerns related to displaying portraits of Atatürk in Germany. A restaurant manager and the owner of a tailoring shop preferred to keep their political perspectives more private and felt that it would be potentially problematic to have portraits displayed in the entry area of their businesses. Both respondents personally know me and my family. 48. For a thoughtful review of the impact of the film on Turkish society, see Nicholas Birch, “Mustafa the movie divides Turkey with a portrait of the ‘real’ Atatürk” The Independent, 7 November, 2008. 49. This assertion is based on my impressions after speaking with members of the Kurdish Diaspora for the past decade. 50. Taner Akçam, From Empire to Republic (London: Zed Books, 2004), 22. 51. Hakan Yavuz, “Five Stages of the Construction of Kurdish Nationalism in Turkey,” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 3, no. 3 (Autumn 2001), 6. 52. This is a statement from a Kurdish informant in response to a section entitled “Deutsch-Türkische Welten,” published by Spiegel Spezial. The report included an interview with five German-educated ethnic Turks (holding German citizenship), who shared their perceptions on living in Turkey and in Germany. One participant in the interview stated that Turkish culture is like a flower bed with some roses, a little lavender, and a few weeds . . . all jumbled together. (My translation from German) Spiegel Spezial 6, “Wie ein Blumenbeet,” May 2008, 84–87. 53. I met with Kani Xulam in Washington, DC, in November 2008 and January 2010. Xulam has been in e-mail contact with me to discuss his observations and approaches to political activism. 54. For more detailed insights into Xulam’s views of Kemalist policies, see “An Open Letter to Mustafa Kemal Ataürk” from February 24, 2005. It is available at http:// www.kurdistan.org/Current-Updates/ataturk022405.html. 55. Nazan Maksudyan, “The Turkish Review of Anthropology and the Racist Face of Turkish Nationalism,” Cultural Dynamics 17, no. 3 (2005): 15. “In a 1939 article, written by Melih Kınay on the ‘peasant children’ of the Gedikli Secondary School for Noncommissioned Officers (Ankara), it is stated that long heads (dolichocphalie) and thin faces are found in the mountainous regions of Erzurum, Sivas, and Kırsehir. Additionally, according to research on skin color, dark-skinned children are found in Yozgat, Kırsehir, Erzincan, Kars, Karaköse, and Urfa. Kınay, at the end, argues that dark-skinned children, especially of mountainous regions, do not fit into the typical category of Turkish race that is identified with a brachycephalic head and a small face. This is a typical example, in which Kurds are defined latently as inferior peoples (Kınay, 1939: 79).” 56. This information was shared by Kani Xulam in an e-mail exchange on January 19, 2009. 57. For further insights, see Kevin McKiernan, The Kurds: A People in Search of Their Homeland (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2006), 164–168.

CHAPTER 5 1. The section on tribal dynamics is dedicated to my former student CPT Jason Wieczorek, serving somewhere in south-eastern Afghanistan in 2009. His e-mails to me inspired the comparison.

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2. Insight News Television produced an eight minute documentary that included an interview with Krekar in Norway. For details, see http://www.insightnewstv.com/d80/ 3. William M. Hale, The Political and Economic Development of Modern Turkey (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1981), 86–88. 4. Steven C. Roach, Cultural Autonomy, Minority Rights, and Globalization (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Press, 2005), 104. 5. Hakan Yavuz, “Five Stages of the Construction of Kurdish Nationalism in Turkey,” 10. 6. Aliza Marcus, Blood and Belief: The PKK and the Kurdish Fight for Independence (New York: New York University Press, 2007), 67. Several Kurdish informants who asked to remain unidentified provided perspectives and information used for this section. 7. David McDowall, The Modern History of the Kurds, 421. 8. I would like to express my deep appreciation for the many important insights LTC Andrew Morgado, Professor of Military Science at Siena College, shared with me over the past two years. 9. Ibid. 10. According to LTC Morgado the term “hooding” was used by the media but “bagging” is a more accurate description. At the time it was standard practice for U.S. personnel to obscure the vision of detainees for security purposes such as protecting routes to detainee facilities and preventing detainees from identifying friendly security measures, etc. Since empty sandbags were always readily available, U.S. forces would frequently use them to cover the heads of detainees. This practice of using bags or hoods has since been discontinued because of the negative perceptions it caused in operations across the country. The U.S. military now utilizes strips of cloth or pulls a pile cap over the eyes of detainees. 11. See footnote 1 in MEMRI, Middle East Media Research Institute, Special Dispatch 1145, “Turkish Media: Washington No Longer Trusts AKP Government,” April 24, 2006. Available at http://www.memri.org/bin/articles.cgi?Area=sd&ID=SP114506&Page =archives. 12. Press Release: U.S. Department of State, “Interview in Advance of Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül’s Visit to the U.S.,” July 3, 2006. 13. Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996). 14. Hakan Yilmaz, “Turkish identity on the road to the EU: basic elements of French and German oppositional discourses,” Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern Studies 9:3 (2007), 297. 15. Ibid. As quoted by Yilmaz.

CHAPTER 6 1. Fikret Bila, “Introducing Gen. Ilker Başbuğ,” Turkish Daily News, August 6, 2008. 2. The journalist and former war correspondent Cengiz Çandar served as special advisor to President Turgut Özal from 1991–1993. He has been an influential liberal critic of the military’s approach in the southeastern provinces. 3. Fikret Bila, “Introducing Gen. Ilker Başbuğ.” 4. Sedat Güneç, “TSK categorizes soldiers for a lifetime, document shows,” Today’s Zaman, August 14, 2009.

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5. Tolga Korkut, “President Gül Warns of Delays in Solving the Kurdish Question,” Bianet, May 28, 2009. 6. Ibid. 7. Tolga Korkut, “MP Tuğluk: State Dialogue with Öcalan Could Lead to Quick Solution,” Bianet, June 8, 2009. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid. 10. Lale Kemal, “Gönül as Turkish Defense Minister,” Today’s Zaman, May 5, 2009. 11. “Büyükanıt complains of foreign support for terror, warns of boomerang effect,” Today’s Zaman, July 4, 2007. 12. Christiane Schlötzer, “Türkischer Generalstabchef mit politischen Ambitionen,” Süddeutsche Zeitung, May 1, 2007. 13. Gareth Jenkins, “Büyükanıt warns against Islamism and Kurdish separatism, attacks EU over policies on ESDP and PKK,” Eurasia Daily Monitor 5, no. 65 (April 7, 2008). 14. “Büyükanıt complains,” Today’s Zaman, July 4, 2007. 15. This reference is taken from Metin Heper’s paper “The Military-Civilian Relations in Post 1997 Turkey.” Dr. Heper presented his research at the IPSA Armed Forces and Society Research Committee Conference (Globalization of Civil-Military Relations: Democratization, Reform, and Security), which was held in Bucharest, Romania, June 29–30, 2002. Interesting is the fact that the term “civil-military relation” is reversed in the title, thereby emphasizing the significant influence of the Turkish military on public policy. 16. Gareth Jenkins, “Continuity and change: prospects for civil-military relations in Turkey,” International Affairs 83:2 (2007): 344. 17. See for example a paper presented by Gökçe Göktepe, “Estimating the Value of Political Connections: Military in Turkish Economy” APSA 2008 Annual Meeting, Boston, MA, August 28, 2008. 18. Jenkins, “Continuity and change,” 343. 19. Soner Çağaptay, “Secularism and Foreign Policy in Turkey,” Policy Focus 67 (April 2007): 9. The entire document is available at http://www.washingtoninstitute.org/ pubPDFs/PolicyFocus67.pdf. 20. Burak Bekdil, “Turkey’s Coming Coup?,” Turkish Daily News, November 29, 2006. 21. The military pressured the Erbakan government to resign in February 1997 instead of pursuing a traditional coup d’état that would have dissolved parliament. This is why the 1997 coup has been described as post-modern instead of a conventional interference by the military elite. Cengiz Çandar, “Post-modern darbe,” Sabah, June 27, 1997. 22. Steven A. Cook and Elizabeth Sherwood-Randall, “Generating Momentum for a New Era in U.S.-Turkey Relations,” Council on Foreign Relations, no. 15 (June 2006): 18. 23. Ibid. 24. “Turkey 2008 Progress Report,” European Commission (November 5, 2008): 9. 25. Gencer Özcan, “The Military and the Making of Foreign Policy in Turkey,” in Turkey in World Politics. An Emerging Multiregional Power (London: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2001), 16–20. 26. Andrew McGregor, “Turkey’s Generals Speak Out on Counter-Insurgency Strategies,” Terrorism Focus 4, no. 38 (November 20, 2007). 27. Nil S. Şatana, “Transformation of the Turkish Military and the Path to Democracy,” Armed Forces and Society 34, no. 3 (April 2008): 367.

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28. Ersel Aydinli, Nibat Ali Özcan, and Doğan Akyaz, “The Turkish Military’s March toward Europe.” Foreign Affairs 85, no. 1 (January/February 2006): 77–90. 29. Morris Janowitz, The Professional Soldier (Glencoe, Illinois: The Free Press, 1960), 233. 30. Ersel Aydinli, Nibat Ali Özcan, and Doğan Akyaz, “The Turkish Military’s March,” 79–88. 31. Ersel Aydinli, “The military can steer Turkey toward Europe,” International Herald Tribune, January 13, 2006. 32. Nil S. Şatana, “Transformation of the Turkish Military and the Path to Democracy,” 365. 33. Ibid., 382. 34. “Turkey 2005 Progress Report,” European Commission (November 9, 2005): 41–42. “Turkey 2006 Progress Report,” European Commission (November 8, 2006): 7–8. “Turkey 2007 Progress Report,” European Commission (November 6, 2007): 8–9. 35. Paul B. Henze, “Turkey: Toward the Twenty-First Century,” in Turkey’s New Geopolitics (Santa Monica: CA, Westview Press and Rand, 1993), 3. 36. Soner Cağaptay, “How Will the Turkish Military React?” The Washington Institute for Near East Policy (July 16, 2007). 37. Shireen T. Hunter and Huma Malik (eds.), Modernization, Democracy and Islam (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies and Greenwood Press, 2005), 281. 38. For an accessible ranking based on yearly military expenditure, weapon inventories, oil reserves, and available manpower, see Turkey’s ranking at http:// www.globalfirepower.com/ 39. Ibid., 119. 40. Tolga Korkut, “Alevi Organizations Agree on Five Demands,” Bianet, June 7, 2009. 41. For a more complete account of the events that unfolded at the Madimak Hotel, see Gareth Jenkins, Political Islam in Turkey (New York: Palgrave Macmillan), 156. A total of 37 persons (35 Alevis and 2 hotel employees) perished in the July 2, 1993 attack in the city of Sivas. Among the Alevis who died in the fire was beloved musician Nesimi Çimen. A YouTube posting of the German language ARD TV program Weltspiegel: Der Kampf der Aleviten includes an interview with Çimen’s wife and son about the Madimak Hotel attack and the consequence for Turkey’s Alevi communities. The seven minute news report is available at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkypDNbyhgU. 42. Ümit Enginsoy and Burak Bekdil, “Turkey Reworks Commando Forces for Counterinsurgency,” Defense News, May 19, 2008. 43. Emine Özcan, “Renewed Discussions About Military Service,” Bianet, March 25, 2009. 44. Gareth Jenkins, for example, argued that members of the AKP consider the Ottoman legacy as very positive, namely one of peace, tolerance, and social harmony. See, Jenkins, Political Islam in Turkey, 215. 45. Steven Cook, Ruling But Not Governing (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007), 106. 46. This observation is taken from Metin Heper’s paper entitled “The MilitaryCivilian Relations in Post 1997 Turkey,” presented at the IPSA Armed Forces and Society Research Committee Conference in Bucharest, Romania, June 29–30, 2002. 47. Emrullah Uslu, “Destruction of Turkish Outpost by PKK Leads to Counterterrorism Reforms,” Terrorism Focus 5, is. 37 (October 30, 2008).

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48. Gareth Jenkins, “PKK Attack in Diyarbakir Deepens Public Doubts About Turkey’s Counterterrorism Strategy,” Eurasia Daily Monitor 5, is. 194 (October 9, 2008). 49. Gareth Jenkins, “PKK Attack in Diyarbakir.” 50. Taraf’s allegations have been covered extensively in the press. See for example a commentary by Doğu Ergil entitled “Is the spirit of Ergenekon alive and kicking?” which appeared in Today’s Zaman on June 21, 2009. http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/ yazarDetay.do?haberno=178633. 51. Emine Özcan, “Chief of General Staff Warns: Hands off the Army,” Bianet, June 26, 2009. 52. Sarah Rainsford, “Deep State Plot Grips Turkey,” BBC News, February 4, 2008. Bawer Cakir, “Conscientious Objector Tarhan’s Tormentors are Acquitted,” Bianet News, October 17, 2008. 53. Gareth Jenkins, “Turkey Searches For A Plan B After PKK Attack,” Eurasia Daily Monitor 5, is. 191, (October 6, 2008). 54. Ayse Gül Altinay, the well-respected Turkish feminist and political anthropologist, translated the collection into English. Nadire Mater, Voices from the Front (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). 55. Ibid., see pages 17, 25, 27, and 39 for example. 56. Lale Sanibrahimoğlu, “Fighting terrorism with professionals under spotlight,” Today’s Zaman, June 29, 2007. 57. Ümit Gencer and H. Canan Sümer, “Recruiting and Retention of Military Personnel: Turkey,” NATO Research and Technology Organization, Final Report of the Research Task Group HFM-107, October 2007, 2F-1–2F-3. 58. Nadire Mater, Voices, 39. 59. This observation is based on the author’s personal experiences and observations. 60. Although most of the information that is available is anecdotal, the Quaker Council for European Affairs collects data about the experiences of ethnic Kurdish conscripts in the southeastern provinces. Some conscientious objectors who refused to fight against their own ethnic communities have applied for asylum in Europe and many received direct assistance from the Quakers. 61. See Amnesty International’s public statement EUR 44/55/99 for additional information. 62. These remarks are taken from a report issues on October 10, 2007, and published on the Israeli Defense Ministry’s web site at http://www.sibat.mod.gov.il/SibatMain/ HEB/Export/Export700/turkeynews17.htm. 63. Gareth Jenkins, “Turkey Takes First Step Toward Professional Army,” Eurasia Daily Monitor 5, no. 85 (May 5, 2008). Ümit Enginsoy and Burak Bekdil, “Turkey Reworks Commando Forces For Counterinsurgency,” Defense News (May 19, 2008). 64. This paragraph is part of an online conversation that took place between diaspora Turks. The quoted responder identified himself as Bix. Since 2007, Diaspora Turks are assigned to Antalya for their shortened military service rather than to Burdur. 65. See such discussions on line under “Kopfgelderpressung. Wie Ankaras Armee im Ausland lebende Türken nötigt und dabei von deutschen Behörden unterstützt wird.” This article was also printed in Junge Welt, and in Turkish-language blogs such as http://www.askerlige-hayir.blogspot.com/ 66. The person who posted the information uses the name Safak1. See the entire posting in German under http://www.turkdunya.de/de/forum/rf30_t1854_bedelli-askerlik.html. 67. Ibrahim Kepenek, Rühr Dich, Kanake (Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch Verlag, 2007).

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68. Jürgen Gottschlich, “Komplott in der Türkei: 1,5 Millionen Dollar für Mord an Orhan Pamuk,” Der Spiegel (January 24, 2008). Also, see a report by Anita McNaught written for Al Jazeera on February 25, 2010, and available at http://english.aljazeera.net/ focus/2010/02/201022515833106406.html. 69. Ergenekon refers to the name of a mythic Turkic valley in the Altai mountain range. 70. For further insights, see an article by Sebnem Arsu, “Former Top Generals Detained in Turkish Coup Inquiry,” The New York Times, February 22, 2010. 71. See for example a report by Martin van Bruinessen, “Turkey’s Death Squads,” Middle East Report 199 (April–June 1996). 72. For the entire article, read the newspaper’s English edition at http:// www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=132507. 73. “Turkish court orders further arrests,” Jane’s Intelligence Review 21, no. 2 (February 2009). 74. “Turkish leader denies press crackdown,” Today’s Zaman, September 17, 2009. 75. “Unprecedented fine imposed on Doğan Media Group threatens media pluralism in Turkey, says OSCE media freedom representative,” OSCE Press Release, September 16, 2009. Also see, Stephen Castle and Sebnem Arsu, “Europeans Criticize Turkey over Threats to Media Freedom,” New York Times, October 15, 2009. 76. For a more detailed insight into Turkey’s deep state and both the Susurluk and Şemdinli scandals, see Michael M. Gunter, The Kurds Ascending—The Evolving Solution to the Kurdish Problem in Iraq and Turkey (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 107–130. 77. Gareth Jenkins, “Susurluk and the Legacy of Turkey’s Dirty War,” Terrorism Monitor 6, is. 9 (May 1, 2008). 78. Ibid. 79. Ibid. 80. “Turkey: Conspiracy Trial Should Probe Military’s Role,” Human Rights Watch (October 17, 2008). 81. See for example, Yigal Schleifer, “In Turkey’s Kurdish southeast, pock-marked hope,” The Christian Science Monitor, November 8, 2007. 82. Cihan Tuğal, “NATO’s Islamists,” New Left Review 44 (March/April 2007): 29. 83. Erol Önderoğlu, “Secret Defendant in JITEM Case Withdraws Statement,” Bianet, 22 September 2009. 84. For details, see Jenkins, Political Islam in Turkey, 191 (his footnotes are of interest, also). 85. Michael M. Gunter, The Kurds Ascending—The Evolving Solution to the Kurdish Problem in Iraq and Turkey (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 129. 86. LTC Jim Parco, Dave Levy, and Pandy Blass, “Intolerable Tolerance,” Armed Forces Journal (July 2008): 40. 87. Ibid., 41. 88. I would like to thank Samuel Watson, Associate Professor of History at USMA, West Point, and LTC Morgado, Professor of Military Science at Siena College, for their expert advice and insightful analysis regarding the concept of military professionalization.

CHAPTER 7 1. Taken from Edward Noel, “The Character of the Kurds as Illustrated by their Proverbs and Popular Sayings,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental Studies 1, no. 4

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(1920): 79. Major Noel was a British intelligence officer sympathetic to the Kurdish demands for statehood. 2. Meltem Müftüler Baç, “Turkey’s Accession to the European Union: Institutional and Security Challenges,” Perceptions 9 (Autumn 2004), 39. 3. For a fuller description of the underlying motivations in the dispute prior to Operation Iraqi Freedom, see the following PBS News Hour link http://www.pbs.org/ newshour/updates/euro_02-10-03.html. 4. Meltem Müftüler Baç, “Turkey’s Accession to the European Union,” 40. 5. The Turkish Prime Minister was quoted as having stated that up to 6,000 PKK combatants were in the mountains, which indicated a weakness in Turkey’s counterterrorism policies as that number was higher than earlier. Emre Uslu and Önder Aytaç, “Why can’t we beat the PKK?” Today’s Zaman, September 17, 2008. 6. “Safeen Dizayee: Turks and Iraqi Kurds offer different approaches to solving PKK problem,” The New Anatolian, September 19, 2007. 7. For further insights, see Rod Nordland, “Now It’s a Census that Could Rip Iraq Apart,” The New York Times, July 25, 2009. Also, see Timothy Williams, “Turkmens in Contested Oil-Rich Province Vow to Boycott Iraq’s National Census,” The New York Times, July 23, 2009. 8. Statement released by the Kurdistan Regional Government, “KRG strongly condemns PKK attack on Diyarbakir, Turkey,” October 9, 2008. Available at http:// www.krg.org/articles/detail.asp?smap=02010100&lngnr=12&anr=25915&rnr=223. 9. International Crisis Group, “Iraq and the Kurds: Trouble Along the Trigger Line,” Middle East Report 88 (July 8, 2009). http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm ?id=6207&l=1. 10. These numbers are under dispute, but are available at the following web page http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/iraq/2007-05-14-kirkuk_N.htm. 11. As quoted in LTC Perry Clark, U.S. Army, “Reassessing U.S. National Security Strategy: The Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK)” Rethinking Insurgency (Carlisle Barracks, PA: U.S. Army War College, Strategic Studies Institute, June 2007): 50. 12. For a more detailed analysis of the levels of competition between the Iraqi Kurdish PUK and the KDP, see for example Islam al-Khafaji, “Almost Unnoticed: Interventions and Rivalries in Iraqi Kurdistan,” MERIP Press Information Note 44, January 24, 2001. See http://www.iraqwatch.org/perspectives/merip-pin44-012401.htm. Also, see Michael Gunter, The Kurdish Predicament in Iraq: A Political Analysis (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 1999). 13. “Counterterrorism board mulls strategy after deadly attack,” Today’s Zaman, October 10, 2008. 14. “Turkey, US confirm intelligence sharing against PKK on track,” Today’s Zaman, October 10, 2008. 15. “Armed forces to conduct military operations in northern Iraq,” Bianet News, October 10, 2008. 16. Ercan Yavuz, “Turkish General Staff cold to establishment of professional army,” Today’s Zaman, March 10, 2009. 17. Ibid. 18. Emre Uslu and Önder Aytaç, “An Open Letter to General Ilker Başbuğ,” Today’s Zaman, October 8, 2008. 19. Ibid. 20. Lale Sariibrahimoğlu, “Turkey’s military procurement priorities receive criticism as terror heightens,” Today’s Zaman, October 22, 2007.

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21. Ümit Enginsoy and Burak Bekdil, “Turkey Reworks Commando Forces for Counterinsurgency,” Defense News (May 19, 2008). 22. Based on conversations with active U.S. military officers, only Turkey’s elite Special Forces will be trained sufficiently to deserve the label ‘special counter-insurgency forces.’ The second category, the army brigades that are also called Special Forces, will not have been trained in extensive counter-insurgency tactics that warrant the same description. 23. For Sedat Laçiner’s main arguments, see the following International Strategic Research Organisation website for example http://www.usak.org.tr/EN/makale.asp ?id=702. 24. Kaynak was interviewed by SETimes on the subject of revising strategic approaches to the PKK (the publication focuses on security interests in southeast Europe). It is important to point out that Kaynak is a highly controversial figure. He argued in 2005 that al-Qaeda is a U.S.-sponsored organization and that the terror attacks of September 11, 2001were inspired by U.S. intelligence operations. His remarks about a more effective approach to confronting the PKK can be found in an article entitled “Turkey’s anti-terrorism strategy under revision,” SETimes, which is available online at http://www.setimes.com/cocoon/setimes/xhtml/en_GB/features/setimes/features/2008/ 10/17/feature-01. 25. “Tactics in Counterinsurgency,” Department of the Army, FM 3-24.2, April 2009. 26. Emre Uslu and Önder Aytaç, “Counterterrorism policies as a vicious circle,” Today’s Zaman, October 29, 2008. 27. Giray Sadik, “Turkey Reorganizes Security Structure to Combat Terrorism,” Terrorism Focus 5, vol. 38 (November 5, 2008). 28. See Funda Keskin’s examination of the issue of counter-insurgency operations into northern Iraq in the Research Journal of International Studies 8, November 2008. According to Keskin in “Turkey’s Trans-Border Operations in Northern Iraq: Before and After the Invasion” (pages 59–75), Turkish forces have utilized hot pursuit and self-defense justifications to enter Iraqi territory since 1983. 29. To read the entire interview in English, consider Tim Drayton’s translation which is available at http://www.timdrayton.com/a37.html. 30. Altan Tan was interviewed for the German political blog qantara.de. The entire article about the Kurdish Initiative was posted on October 10, 2009 at http:// de.qantara.de/webcom/show_article.php/_c-468/_nr-1248/i.html. 31. Yonca Poyraz Doğan, “Altan Tan: Kurds’ love affair with AK Party ending,” Today’s Zaman, November 17, 2008. 32. Ibid. 33. “Barzani extends support to Turkish government’s Kurdish initiative” Hürriyet Daily News, August 18, 2009. 34. Michael M. Gunter, The Kurds Ascending (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 41–42. 35. David L. Phillips, “Turkey and Iraqi Kurdistan are Strategic Partners,” New Atlanticist (June 27, 2009). The entire article can be found at http://www.acus.org/new _atlanticist/turkey-and-iraqi-kurdistan-are-strategic-partners. 36. David L. Phillips wrote about his observations for the Wall Street Journal on February 7, 2008, the article is available at http://www.krg.org/articles/print.asp ?anr=22656&lngnr=12&rnr=73. 37. EU criticizes Turkey’s court ban of Kurdish party, posted on EurActiv.com and available at http://www.euractiv.com/en/enlargement/eu-criticises-turkey-court-ban -kurdish-party/article-188334.

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38. The EU Presidency statement on the closure of the DTP is available at http:// www.delvie.ec.europa.eu/en/eu_osce/eu_statements/2009/December/PC%20no.786 %20-%20EU%20statement%20on%20closing%20of%20DSP%20in%20Turkey.pdf. 39. “Reform or die,” The Economist, March 25, 2010, also available on line at http:// www.economist.com/world/europe/displayStory.cfm?story_id=15772870.

CHAPTER 8 1. YEK-KOM members expressed this sentiment to the author in January, 2010. 2. The full EUTCC (EU Turkey Civic Commission) conference proceedings are available from KHRP.org. 3. The EUTCC protested Turkey’s decision to deny visas by posting the following public notification http://www.eutcc.org/articles/7/document384.ehtml. 4. See the interview with Arne Löffel, “Meine Musik ist ein Schrei—Şivan Perwer über die Gefahren politischen Gesangs,” Frankfurter Rundschau, September 6, 2006. 5. For example, see the following articles regarding the topic of Kurdish language instruction: http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/news-187628-pro-establishment -academics-hinder-kurdish-departments.html; http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/ news-182219-education-in-kurdish-language-seems-unlikely-in-turkey.html. 6. Commission of the European Communities, Turkey 2009 Progress Report, October 14, 2009, 27–32. The full report is available at http://ec.europa.eu/enlargement/pdf/ key_documents/2009/tr_rapport_2009_en.pdf. 7. The original interview language is German and I translated the quotes. Azad stated “Die Menschen sollen wissen: wir sind hier und wir sind Kurden.” Yeni Özgür Politika publishes in Kurdish and Turkish, but also posts articles in German, and its editorial team works out of an office in Neu Isenburg, near Frankfurt am Main, Germany. 8. Two people died during Azad’s performance at the 2009 festival. It appears that they were crushed by a rowdy crowd of rap fans. One of the victims was identified as Sükrü Cicek Destan (50), a PKK member and former inmate of the notorious military prison of Diyarbakir, the other victim was a woman, who was not mentioned by name on PKK websites. 9. YEK-KOM is located in Düsseldorf, Germany, and event posters and advertisements were publicly available in August and September 2009. The motto of the 17th annual festival was “Frieden für Kurdistan—Freiheit für Öcalan.” 10. My translation of the rap lyrics from German to English. 11. To listen to the entire interview in German, see http://www.youtube.com/watch ?v=uNdy8pdkshE. 12. Ibid. 13. See an earlier discussion in chapter 6 of this book, Ibrahim Kepenek, Rühr Dich, Kanake (Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch Verlag, 2007). 14. A fascinating collaborative nationalist Kurdish music video project between Bero Bass, Şivan Perwer, and Xatar in Kurmanji and German can be found on YouTube under the song title “Blick Richtung Sonne,” or “Look Toward the Sun.” See http:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iY5OHSO1lE. Also, of interest may be the imagery used in this collaborative video by Azad and Şivan Perwer at http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=ft9jUGBYLv0&feature=related. I would like to thank Dilshad Abubakir for his help with translations from Kurdish into English.

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15. For an excellent analysis of oriental/Turkish-German rap, see Timothy S. Brown’s chapter “‘Keeping it Real’ in a Different ‘Hood’: (African-) Americanization and Hip Hop in Germany,” in The Vinyl Ain’t Final (Ann Arbor, MI: Pluto Press, 2006). 16. These observations are based on the author’s conversations with KurdishGerman teenagers in 2008 and 2009. 17. For the online version, see http://www.yeniozgurpolitika.com. 18. Azad, like all Euro-rappers, emulates ideas introduced by African-American rappers. In that context the expression “street cred” (credibility) refers to possessing an enhanced claim to knowledge of particular issues that impact European born Kurds. 19. The quote is taken from “Whose Diaspora? Hybrid Identities in ‘Turkish Rap’ in Germany,” presented by Solomon at the 14th Nordic Migration Researchers’ Conference, Bergen, in November 14–16, 2007. For years Solomon has researched nationalist expressions in Turkish-German rap music. His list of publications can be accessed at http://www.hf.uib.no/grieg/02ansatte/SolomonThomas.htm. 20. The first question of the YouTube interview addresses Xatar’s response to street violence between ethnic Kurdish and Turkish youth in Germany. http:// video.filestube.com/video,f8ac8d26b0c3ae0203e9.html. 21. The Berlin newspaper Der Tagesspiegel published an article on October 30, 2007, that indicated a high level of surprise among security analysts as well as police forces about the sudden political mobilization among adolescent Turkish and KurdishGermans in Berlin. See http://www.tagesspiegel.de/berlin/Polizei-Justiz;art126,2409703. 22. For the institute, see http://www.zentrum-demokratische-kultur.de/Startseite/ Kontakt/K247.htm. 23. A detailed Spiegel report from 2007 entitled “Die Strasse gehört uns” by Ferda Ataman focuses on Turkish-German and Kurdish-German teenagers involved in posting such YouTube music videos and can be found at http://www.spiegel.de/politik/ deutschland/0,1518,523367,00.html. 24. See for example a special report issued in 2004 by the German state of Nordrhein-Westfalen on the Grey Wolves at http://www.im.nrw.de/sch/doks/vs/ tuerkischer_nationalismus.pdf. 25. See a 2007 Spiegel report at http://www.spiegel.de/politik/deutschland/ 0,1518,523367,00.html. 26. For further details, consider a 2007 security report released by the German Interior Ministry, available at http://www.verfassungsschutz.de/download/SHOW/ vsbericht_2007.pdf and also the 2008 Hamburg Landesamt für Verfassungsschutz report entitled “Sicherheitsgefährdende und extremistische Bestrebungen von Ausländern ohne Islamisten,” page 89. The PKK and Kongra-Gel continue to reach out to Kurdish youth through cultural and athletic events in an effort to recruit future cadres. The Hamburg report is available at http://www.hamburg.de/contentblob/1535314/data/ verfassungsschutzbericht-2008-auslaenderextremismus-fhh.pdf. 27. The newspaper account about Zerya’s experiences is available in English at http:// www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/iraq/article2844010.ece. 28. The video is called “Die Rattenfänger der PKK” (The rat catchers of the PKK or the pied pipers of the PKK, in reference to the German legend of a child abductor made famous by the Brothers Grimm). It can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch ?v=GY2MCGcHExY. 29. For a newspaper account that describes Sertan’s journey from the small town of Langenfeld to northern Iraq, see http://www.rp-online.de/duesseldorf/langenfeld/ nachrichten/langenfeld/Sertans-Weg-nach-Kurdistan_aid_485321.html.

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30. The exact number of adolescent or child guerrilla fighters is not known. The Turkish state shares information with German consular officers when German identity papers are found on the body of a guerrilla member. German police collect data on Kurdish adolescents reported as missing by their relatives in Germany. In a recent documentary produced by a German TV station, WDR, a team of investigative journalists filmed interviews with a young Kurdish-German fighter in a production called Sertans Weg—Von Langenfeld nach Kurdistan (Sertan’s Journey—From Langenfeld to Kurdistan), which was aired on September 30, 2007. For another interview with a youthful Kurdish-German guerrilla member in the mountains of Iran, see Yassin Musharbash, “Deutscher PKK Soldat: Vom Disko-Gänger zum Kurden-Krieger,” Spiegel, September 30, 2007. 31. Dutch authorities for example raided a rural southern Dutch camp ground in 2004 where suspected PKK fighters had been trained in paramilitary techniques. Dutch authorities suggested that new fighters have been smuggled into PKK encampments via Armenia. During the raid, police found some boys that were as young as 15. For additional details, see http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-325868/Dutch-police-raid -suspected-guerilla-training-camp.html. 32. Journalist Kayhan Özgenç reported on such a story about disappearing KurdishGerman teenage girls in the popular magazine Focus 47, 1998. His article is available in German at http://www.focus.de/politik/deutschland/pkk-verfuehrte-maedchen_aid _175164.html. 33. Renowned Kurdish song-writer and political refugee Şivan Perwer and the rapper Azad collaborated in a song called “Stadtfalke” (“City Hawk”). Perwer sings the refrain in northern Kurdish or Kurmanji. In Dilshad Abubakir’s translation: “Oh, my goodness, it is enough, enough already! Rise up dear [Kurdish] boys, beloved [Kurdish] girls. (Hey Hawar, êdî bes e bes e rabe, xortê hêja, keça delal).” Supporters of the struggle for Kurdish independence consider Perwer’s lute music an important element of Kurdish resistance to state oppression. He is classified as a Kurdish dengbêj, a combination of a bard and troubadour, who tells folkloristic stories and legends through his music. Such story-telling through song is considered extremely important among Kurdish activists who support preserving Kurdish culture and history. 34. For a more detailed study in German, see Dieter Christensen, “Tanzlieder der Hakkari-Kurden,” Jahrbuch für musikalische Volks-und Völker-Kunde, Berlin, 1963, 11–47. 35. See a posting on ekurd.net at http://www.ekurd.net/mismas/articles/misc2009/1/ turkeykurdistan2073.htm. 36. The dramatic footage of his arrest has been posted on YouTube. For a more detailed account about the arrest, followed by an official apology by the Canadian authorities, see a report filed by the Toronto Sun at http://cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/ Canada/2009/08/18/10495861-sun.html# 37. YouTube offers numerous videos about the festival and specific performances, although the quality of the recordings is generally very poor. 38. See van Wilgenburg’s report of festival events at http://www.kurdishaspect.com/ doc091509WW.html. His blog can be found at http://vvanwilgenburg.blogspot.com/ He also writes for the Kurdish newspaper Rudaw (rudaw.net) in Erbil. Van Wilgenburg published an interview with top PKK commander Murat Karayilan in a Jamestown Foundation publication called Spotlight on Terror on September 28, 2009. 39. The TE-SAT 2008 EU Terrorism Situation and Trend Report can be accessed in full on line. In particular see section 6. Ethno-Nationalist and Separatist Terrorism, 28–33, at http://www.europol.europa.eu/publications/EU_Terrorism_Situation_and _Trend_Report_TE-SAT/TESAT2008.pdf.

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40. For specific information, see the Official Journal of the European Union; the court decision can be accessed at http://eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ/LexUriServ.do?uri=OJ :C:2008:142:0023:0023:EN:PDF. 41. For further insights, see the 2008 Hamburg Landesamt für Verfassungsschutz report entitled “Sicherheitsgefährdende und extremistische Bestrebungen von Ausländern ohne Islamisten,” pg. 86. The full report is available at http://www.hamburg.de/ contentblob/1535314/data/verfassungsschutzbericht-2008-auslaenderextremismus -fhh.pdf. 42. For more details, see this author’s analysis at “Interpreting the PKK’s Signals in Europe,” Perspectives on Terrorism 2, 11, 2008. Available at http://www.terrorismanalysts .com/pt/index.php?option=com_rokzine&view=article&id=64&Itemid=54. 43. For an interview with one of the abducted hikers, see Stern Magazin in German at http://www.stern.de/politik/deutschland/:Ex-PKK-Geisel-Hainzlmeier-Den-Ararat/ 631858.html. 44. For a German media reports of the events, see http://www.rp-online.de/politik/ ausland/Floss-Loesegeld-an-die-Entfuehrer_aid_592549.html and also consider http://www.welt.de/politik/article2232573/Deutsche_Bergsteiger_in_der_Tuerkei_wieder _frei.html. 45. “Wir wünschen uns einen gesellschaftlichen Kompromiß,” Junge Welt, January 7, 2000. 46. Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty online, “Turkey: EU Conference Highlights Continued Repression of Kurds,” 20 September 2005 stated that Hatip Dicle, a former Kurdish member of Turkish parliament, supported Turkish membership of the EU to aid Kurdish interests. This article also demonstrates that exchanges of ideas take place between MEPs and Kurdish interest groups. http://www.rferl.org/featuresarticle/2005/ 09/97618727- 009f-4ac3-8449-d062f5d982e7.html. Also of interest are efforts by the London-based Kurdish Human Rights Project (KHRP) in terms of its activities to pressure Turkey into improving Kurdish ethnic recognition http://www.khrp.org/newsline/ newsline31/newsline31.pdf. 47. Heinz Kramer, A Changing Turkey: The Challenge to Europe and the United States (Washington: Brookings Institution, 2000), 246. 48. Martin van Bruinessen comments on ideological changes within the PKK’s structures in the foreword to Wadie Jwaideh, Kurdish National Movement: Its Origins and Development (Syracuse: Syracuse University, 2006), xii. 49. See Amir Hassanpour’s article “Satellite footprints as national borders: Med-TV and the extraterritoriality of state sovereignty,” Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs 18:1, 1998, 53–72. 50. For further information on this case, see Amnesty International’s Annual Report 2007 at http://thereport.amnesty.org/eng/Regions/Europe-and-Central-Asia/ Turkey. 51. For remarks expressed by Özdemir, see Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung at http:// www.faz.net/s/Rub594835B672714A1DB1A121534F010EE1/Doc~EE6F27157962442 -F0ADA29B883BF714BB~ATpl~Ecommon~Scontent.html. 52. The entire radio interview with Cem Özdemir is available in German at http:// www.oezdemir.de/themen/tuerkei_eu/1832141.html. 53. Cem Özdemir interview at http://www.uni-kassel.de/fb5/frieden/regionen/Tuerkei/ eu.html. 54. For information about Uca’s visit to Turkey between July 18 and 23 2007, see http://linkszeitung.de/content/view/129394/101/

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55. For Uca’s address in its entirety, see http://www.europarl.europa.eu/sides/ getDoc.do?pubRef=-//EP//TEXT+CRE+20030604+ITEM-004+DOC+XML+V0// EN&language=EN&query=INTERV&detail=3-156. 56. The communication from YEK-KOM (Federation of Kurdish Organizations) is available at http://www.nadir.org/nadir/initiativ/isku/erklaerungen/2006/08/05.htm. 57. Uca’s web page can be found at http://www.feleknasuca.de/ 58. For the full text of the petition (in German), access the following site: http:// www.kon-kurd.org/deutsch/index.php?f=news&act=show&id=14. 59. The web page of KON-KURD offers further information about diaspora Kurdish activism http://www.kon-kurd.org/english/indexen.php?f=news&act=show&id=9. 60. Söner Çağaptay and Cem S. Fikret, “Europe’s Terror Problem: PKK Fronts Inside Europe,” The Middle East Quarterly 14, no. 1 (Winter 2007) available at http:// www.washingtoninstitute.org/templateC05.php?CID=2413. 61. The person asked not to be identified by name.

CONCLUSION 1. TESEV’s full report “A Roadmap for a Solution to the Kurdish Question” is available in English at http://www.tesev.org.tr/UD_OBJS/Report%20on%20Kurdish%20 Question.pdf. 2. The Kurdish DTP had advanced a similar agenda in parliament prior to their constitutional ban. DTP parliamentarians called for constitutional protections related to Kurdish language and cultural rights and for the democratization of the southeastern administrative structures. The DTP also demanded that the state dismantle the village guard system and implement improved prison conditions for Öcalan. 3. Ibid., 15–16. 4. Ibid., 15. 5. “Trilateral road map with Iraq, US ready for steps against PKK,” Today’s Zaman, December 22, 2009. 6. For example, see David Romano, “Whose House is this Anyway? IDP and Refugee Return in Post-Saddam Iraq,” Journal of Refugee Studies 18, no. 4, 2005, 1–24. 7. The relationships between the Iraqi Kurdish KDP and PUK, and the PKK deteriorated following the 1991 Gulf War. The United States and British enforced no-fly zone that protected Iraqi Kurds from Saddam Hussein created opportunities for the PKK to establish safe zones in the Kurdish region. Between 1994 and 1997, the PKK’s influence in northern Iraq increased during the civil war between the KDP and PUK. For detailed information on this period, see Robert Baer, See No Evil: The True Story of a Ground Soldier in the CIA’s War on Terrorism (New York: Crown Publishers, 2002). For a Kurdish perspective on this conflict, I would like to thank Dilshad Abubakir, a former IraqiKurdish Fulbright student in Albany, NY. 8. See for example, Sarah Kenyon Lischer, Dangerous Sanctuaries: Refugee Camps, Civil War and the Dilemmas of Humanitarian Aid (Ithica, NY: Cornell University Press, 2005). 9. The quote is taken from Emine Kart, “UN refugee agency wishes to see an empty Makhmour camp,” Today’s Zaman, April 6, 2010. 10. “Some Kurdish Guerrilla to Surrender to Turkey,” Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, October 18, 2009 at http://www.rferl.org/content/Kurdish_Guerrilla_Group _To_Surrender_To_Turkey/1854809.html.

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11. Firat News Agency can be accessed in English at http://en.firatnews.com/ index.php?rupel=home. It is important to know that the content of Firat’s reports changes depending on the language that is used (English, Turkish, and Kurdish at the moment). Also, consider “Kurd rebels receive hero’s welcome, Turkish government under fire,” Agence France Press, October 21, 2009. 12. The full study is available in Turkish at www.setav.org, published under the title “Turkey’s Perception of the Kurdish Issue.” Also, see Ihsan Daği’s commentary related to the SETA study in English at http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/columnists -185625-public-opinion-on-the-kurdish-question.html. 13. Numerous media reports were published by Al Jazeera, Today’s Zaman, Radikal, and Firat News on this issue. For an insightful report in English, see the following AlJazeera report at http://english.aljazeera.net/news/europe/2009/10/2009102017482 535790.html. 14. Wladimir van Wilgenburg, “Turkish government reconsider Kurdish Initiative,” Today’s Zaman, November 2, 2009. See http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/ news-191681-turkish-government-reconsiders-kurdish-initiative-by-wladimir-van -wilgenburg.html. 15. Kurd.net released the following names of peace group participants now standing trial as Elif Uludağ, Gülbahar Çiçek, Lütfü Taş, Mustafa Ayhan, Vilayet Yakut, Şerif Gençdal, Hamyet Dinçer, Hüseyin İpek, Abdullah Yaman, Fatma İzer, Ayşe Kara, Bülent Aka, Nizar Buldan, İsmail Ayas, Zehra Tunç, Sisin Yaman and Nurettin Turgut. 16. In July 2010, 14 members of the “peace groups” who didn’t face trial decided to return to the refugee camp in northern Iraq. Kurdish media reported that the group members decided that the Turkish state was not interested in establishing peace with Kurdish communities. 17. For further details, see the following posting from Fédération Internationale des Ligues des Droits de l’Homme (FIDH) at http://www.fidh.org/The-Human -Rights-Association-IHD-remains-in-the. Also, a letter written by Erbey from Diyarba kir High Security prison was posted on the KHRP (Kurdish Human Rights Project) website and is available at http://www.ihd.org.tr/english/index.php?option=com _content&view=article&id=687:letter-of-muharrem-erbey&catid=13:headquarters &Itemid=29. 18. Gareth Jenkins, “After DTP Closure: From Dialogue to Monologue?” Turkey Analyst 2, no. 23, December 21, 2009. This publication is supported by the Central , Asia-Caucasus Institute at Johns Hopkins University s School of Advanced International Studies and the Silk Road Studies Program at the Stockholm-based Institute for Security and Development Policy. The referenced article is available at http://www .silkroadstudies.org/new/inside/turkey/2009/091221A.html. 19. Marlies Casier, Andy Hilton, and Joost Jongerden, “‘Road Maps’ and ‘Roadblocks’ in Turkey’s Southeast,” Middle East Report Online, October 30, 2009. Available at http:// www.merip.org/mero/mero103009.html. 20. Ibid. 21. For further information about the rise of violence, see Alexander Christie-Miller, “The PKK and the Closure of Turkey’s Opening,” Middle East Report Online, August 4, 2010. 22. PKK commander Karayilan regularly offers interviews to journalists. For example, see a Reuters interview by Ayla Jean Yackley with him at http://www.reuters.com/article/ idUSLDE62K053 Also, an increasing number of YouTube videos feature images from northern Iraqi PKK training camps. Two very short segments in the following video

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stand out; a male PKK fighter with excellent English language skills and a female fighter whose preferred language is German. See http://youtube.com/watch?v=yYEy9r1F3aM. 23. See Emre Uslu’s “The PKK’s 2010 Strategy,” Today’s Zaman, February 8, 2010. Available at http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/columnists-200890-the-pkks-2010strategy.html. 24. Ibid. 25. For a very insightful and analytical discussion of assimilation policies, see Mesut Yeğen’s article “‘Prospective-Turks’ or ‘Pseudo-Citizens’: Kurds in Turkey,” The Middle East Journal 63, no. 4 (Autumn 2009): 597–615. The quote is taken from page 612. 26. Tuğluk is now banned from participating in politics for a period of five years, just as the former leader of the DTP, Ahmet Türk. 27. A lower-level woman commander by the nom de guerre Sozdar Avesta has spoken publicly on occasion. Her given name is said to be Nuriye Keşbir; see the attached article for further information http://www.ekurd.net/mismas/a-rticles/misc2007/12/ filmskurdistan50.htm. 28. The full interview with BDP parliamentarian Tunçel can be found at http:// ekurd.net/mismas/articles/misc2010/3/turkey2571.htm.

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Index

17th International Kurdish Festival, Gelsenkircen, Germany, 170–171 Afghanistan, war in, and drug smuggling operations, 44 Ahamadinejad, Mahmoud, 22 Akçam, Taner, 85 Aktürk, Ayce, 93–94 Alevi Kurds: and AKP (Justice and Development Party), 72–73; counter-narratives in Europe, 85; recent research on suffering of, 89; as Shiite Muslims, 17; as targets of Sunni Muslims, 72; vs. Turkish military efforts, 136 Altun, Riza, 30 Amanpour, Christian, 87 American–Kurdish Information Network (AKIN), 10–11 Amnesty International, 66 Ansa al-Islam (Partisans of Islam), 103 Ansar al-Sunnah (Followers of Sunnah), 103 Ant, 74 Ant Publishing House, 73 Arabesque music, 173 , Armenians: and Ahmet Türk s apology, 90; efforts to raise international

awareness, 89; genocide of, 40, 81; genocide studies, 85; massacres of, 1894–1896, 27, 81; as officially designated Turkish minority, 11; in southeastern provinces, 11; Turkish prohibitions vs. overt statements about genocide of, 40 Askeri Müze, 135 , Assyrians: and Ahmet Türk s apology, 90; extermination policies vs., 40; relocation by Turkish State, 81–82; in southeastern provinces, 11 Atalay, Beşir, 197. See also Kurdish Opening Atatürk, Mustafa Kemal: attitude towards minorities, 90; embrace of Europe, 17; legacy, 17; as modernizer, 24; and nationalist sensitivities, 97; renaming Southeast Anatolia, 13; on YouTube, 100 Atatürk Society of America, 16 Ausländers, 7 , Australia s acknowledgment of mistreatment of Aboriginals, 84 Austria, and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 181–82 Aydar, Zübeyir, 182

246

Index

Ayse Arakolu Prize for Freedom of Thought, 74 Aytaç, Önder, 158 Azad (Freedom), 169–70, 171–72, 173–76, 178 Baç, Meltem Müftüler, 152 Baradar, Abdul Ghani, 102–3 Barzani, Massoud, 155–56, 163 Barzani, Mustafa, 106–7 Basque Homeland and Freedom (ETA), 70 Bass, Pero, 186 Başugˇ , Aydogˇ an, vs. criticism of military, 138–39 Başugˇ , Ilker: and apparent PKK increased strength, 120; counter strategy to improve civil/military relations, 159–60; and military challenges due to Iraq War, 158, 159; and military efforts to lower rhetoric, 123; replacement of Büyükanit as Chief, 125–27; and strategic preferences, 127 Baydemir, Osman, 75, 76, 167 Bayik, Cemal, 196, 198 Bekdil, Burak, 126, 159 Belfast/Good Friday Agreement (1998) as conflict resolution framework, 51 Belgium, and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 181–82 Bernama Kurd, 176 Bero Bass, 173 Bianet News, 42 Biden, Joe, 34 Bogˇ aziçi University, 60 Bouvier, Virginia M., 71 Bozkurt (Grey Wolves), 13, 144, 146, 177. See also Grey Wolves (Bozkurt) Bozkurt–Mafia, 177 burkas (nikabs), 60 Bush, George W, administration of: invasion of Iraq, 21; and superimposition of government structure, 14; vs. TAK, PKK, 45; and , Turkey s military democracy, 23, 24 Büyükanit, Chief of General staff 2006–2008, 124 Çagˇ aptay, Soner, 126 Çalislar, Oral, 67

Camcigˇ il, Metin, 16 Çandar, Cengiz, 23 Cartel, 173 Casier, Marlies, 198 Çelik, Ahmet, 171 Center for Democratic Culture, 177 Cetin, Fethiye, 40–41 Clark University, 85 Clash of Civilizations (Huntington), 116 Colombia, 71 Confederation of Kurdish Associations in Europe (KON-KURD), 186, 187 Cook, Steven, 138 Council of Europe (CoE), 17 Cyprus, 51 Dantschke, Clada, 177 Darcos, Xavier, 63 Davutogˇ lu, Ahmet, 197 Day, Will, 92–94 DDKO (Revolutionary Cultural Society of the East), 57 Deep-state operations: Ergenekon, 145–46; Operation Sledgehammer, 145–46; plots against the government, 145–46; trials against alleged participants, 146 DemirbaS, Abdullah, 75 Demirer, Temel, 40, 42 Demirtaş Selahattin, 200–201 Democratic Party (DEP), 65 Democratic Society Party (DTP), 30, 66 Demokrasi Herkese lazim, 28 Denge Mezopotamya, 31 Denmark, 181–82, 185 Der Agˇ ha aus Dersim (The Lord of Dersim) (Işik), 86 Der Brand (The Fire) (Friedrich), 91 Dersim-Alevi Kurds, extermination policies vs.: at end of Ottoman Empire, 40 Dersim massacres, 86 Dersim/Tunceli, 11; knowledge of, outside of Turkey, 88; military occupation by Turkey, 87; oral histories, 87; reasons for lack of familiarity with, 88 Deutschlandradio Kultu, 185 Dev-Ğenç (Federation of Revolutionary Youth), 107

Index Devişogˇ lu, Sallim, 138 DezzDeniz, 176 Die Vernichtung von Dersim (The Destruction of Dersim) (Işik), 86 Dink, Hrant, 40 The Dink Murder and Intelligence Lies (Sener), 40 Diyarbakir, 66, 68, 75 Diyarbakir Conference, 2009, 122–23 Diyarbakir military prison, 110, 162 Dizayee, Safeen, 153 Dogˇ an Holding, 146 Doğu Atulga, 124 Dündar, Can, 97 Düşgül, Onur, 120 East Germany, temporary workers in, 7–8 Elci, Ismet, 89 Elections, municipal 2009, 15 Elections, national, 2007, 15 Engˇ insoy, Ümit, 159 Entfremdung (alienation), 14 Erbey, Muharrem, 196–97 Erdogˇ an, Emine, 114 Erdogˇ an, Recep Tayyip: and AKP, 62, 63; and assimilation of Turks in Germany, 76; criticism of Israel, 18; election of, 20; foreign policy initiatives, 18; and hints of new direction, 189; and issues of European Union membership, 43; and Kurdish DTP parliamentarians, 161; and Kurdish vote, 33; lack of political will, 69; and military nomination process, 127; and “one nation, one flag, one country”, 76; overtures towards Hamas, 77; proposed constitutional reform, 164–65; response to Harbur Gate events, 193; TSK subordination to, 123; vs. Osman Baydemir, 76 Erdogˇ an, Recep Tayyip government: and European Union accession process, 52; promises to Kurds and global economic slowdown, 72–73 Ergenekon, 145–46 Euro-Kurds: frustration with AKP, 167 Europe: attitude towards Turkish military democracy, 23; embrace of Turkey, 7; fears of Iranian religious

247

fervor, 7; fears of Islamization, 53–54; fears of Soviet expansionism, 7; Kurdish identity assertion in, 8; relations with Turkey, 34–35 European Convention on Human Rights, 164 , European Council s Committee for the Prevention of Torture (CPT), 186–87 European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), 95, 201 European Union (EU): criticism of DTP ban, 164; and freedom of expression limits in Turkey, 41; impact of membership process on Turkey, 14; influence in Turkey, 32; and Kurdish question, 14, 20, 68, 78, 198–99; possible benefits to Turkey, 14; reservations about Turkish membership, 12, 53, 130; significance of membership for Turkey, 51; and , Turkey s democratization issues, 51, 132; and Turkish application for membership, 185–86; and Turkish domestic policy debates, 28, 31; Turkish military and membership in, 76, 130; and Turkish reforms, 6 European Union Report (2008) and continued Turkish military prerogatives, 129 European Union Turkey Civic Commission (EUTCC), 167, 186–87 Europol, 44, 181–82 Fatah, 109 Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) region of Pakistan and drug smuggling operations, 44 Firat News Agency, 31, 36, 185, 192 Firtina, Ibrahim, 145 Foreign Narcotics Kingpin Designation Act, 45 Foundation for Political, Economic and Social Research (SETA), 192 Fourteen Points (Wilson), 80 France, 70, 181–82 Frankfurt Book Fair (2008), 38–39, 42, 43–44 Frankfurter Rundschau, 167 Freedom and Democracy Congress of Kurdistan (KADEK), 112

248

Index

Freedom House, 41 Fried, Daniel, 113–14 Friedrich, Jörg, 91 Fuller, Graham, 17 Gendarmerie Intelligence and Counterterrorist Service (JITEM), 147–48 The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought (Mardin), 13 Genocide as outlawed word, 40 German Badder-Meinhof gang, 109 German–Turkish ties, 185–86 Germany: arms deals with Turkey, 8; and Der Brand (The Fire), 91; immigrant life in, 8; perceptions of Turkish state developments, 15; and PKK, 9, 181; Turkish and Kurdish immigrants in, 142–43 , Giscard d Estaing, Valéry, 116 Göle, Nilüfer, 26 Gönül, Vecdi, 97, 123, 136 Gözüm, Ümit YaSar, 39 Greek minority, extermination policies against, 40 Grey Wolves (Bozkurt), 13, 144, 146, 177, 177–78. See also Bozkurt (Grey Wolves) Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unit (URNG), 112 Guest worker communities, 5 Gül, Abdullah, 39, 122 Güneç, Sedat, 120 Gunter, Michael, 148 Güres, Dogˇ an, 130 Hadith, 59 Hamidiye Light Cavalr Regiments (Tribal Regiments), 81 Harbur Gate events, 191–92, 195 Headscarf debate: AKP revival of, 51; at Bogˇ azici university, 60; as contemporary symbol of self-expression, 59; effect on female students, 60; European attitudes, 61; in European countries, 60; Kemalists and, 51, 52–53; and secular elite, 63–64; significance for European Union membership, 51; as symbol of cultural heritage, 63; as symbol of self-expression, 63

Heroin trade, 44 Higher Counterterrorism Board (TMYK), 156 Hilton, Andy, 198 Human Rights Association of Turkey (IHD), 94–95, 196 Human Rights Watch, 66, 146–47 Hürriyet, 42 Imam-hatip schools, 58, 59 Info-Türk, 73, 74–75 Inönü, Ismet, 90, 95, 107 International Crisis Group, 154–55 International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH), 196–97 International Strategic Research Organization (USAK), 159 Internet-based social networking websites, 174 International Strategic Research Organization (ISRO/USAK), 142 Iran: influence in Iraqi Shiite areas, 22; PKK sympathizers, 3; theocratic regime, 7; U.S. threats against, 22 Iranian-based Kurdish guerrilla group, PJAK, 183 Iraq: formation of, 80; PKK sympathizers, 3; U.S. government role in, 5; U.S. invasion of, 19 Iraqi-Kurdish Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK), 103 Iraqi-Kurdish political empowerment, 118 Iraqi Kurdistan: as legal entity, 153; as , threat to Turkey s integrity, 153; U.S. forces use of Kurdish peshmerga, 153 Iraqi Kurds: and benefits from regional insecurities, 105–6; cooperation with Iran, Turkey, 155–56; improved relations with Turkey, 163; in Kirkuk, Iraq, 155; and Kurdish Initiative in Turkey, 163; in northern Iraq, 4; and U.S. military needs, 45 Iraqi Makhmour Refugee Camp, 191–92 Işik, Haydar, 89; 86 Islam, interpretation of nationalism, 12 Islamic Justice and Development Party (AKP), 47 Islamic parties, state efforts to marginalize, 65

Index Islamic politics: and constitutional court, 62; current aims, 62 Islamist National Salvation Party, 59 Islamists: splits among, 59 Islamists vs. Islamic party, 59 Italian Brigat Rosse, 109 Jandarma, 9 Jenkins, Gareth, 125, 197 Jews as officially designated Turkish minority, 11 Jihadi networks and Mullah Krekar, 104 Jongerden, Joost, 198 Justice and Development Party (AKP): as alternative centrist party, 63; assumptions about Kurds, 72; and change of direction for Turkey, 63–64; efforts to silence media critics, 146; electoral aims, 15; and European Union, 32, 34; failure to develop alternative model, 71; George W. Bush administration and, 117; and Hamas, 77; and headscarf debate, 63; improved relations with northern Iraq, 34; insensitivity to religious minorities, secular Kurds, 72; as Islamic but not fundamentalist Islamist, 63; and Kurdish Initiative, 15; and Kurds, 33, 68–70, 75; and membership in European Union, 76; and military threat of “soft coup,” 128; and neo-Ottomanism, 19; policies towards southeastern provinces, 73; power consolidation, 2006–2008, 125; and recognition of Kurdish minority, 15; return to repressive policies, 197; solidarity with Palestine, 18; and Turkish military, 69–70, 77, 123; and Turkish nationalism, 12; as uncommitted to Kemalism, 120; vs. PKK, 34; vs. Turkish secular elites, 55 Kadiri Sufi order, 81 Kalik, Gülümser Kalik, 87 Kanco, Hüseyn, 90 Karayilan, Murat, 171, 196, 198 Kaynak, Mahir, 159–60 Kemal, Lale, 123 Kemal, Mustafa, 55; and Kurdish tribal areas, 81; in Turkish

249

histories, 83; and Turkish War of Independence, 80 Kemal, Yaşar, 89–90, 162 , Kemalism: and Mexico s Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), 55; and , military coup d états, 73; and modernization in Turkey, 55; vs. Ottoman rule, 55; socio-cultural impact, 84–85; and Turkish constitution, 73; and Westernization, 55–56 Kemalists: vs. Kurdish groups and their western allies, 117; and the Kurdish Regional Government in Iraq, 105; vs. liberal, political elites, 52; membership, 52; vs. neo-Ottomanism, 18–19 Kemalist state: actions vs. Kurdish interests, 67 Keman, Fuat, 47 Kendine democrat, 27–28 Kepenek, Ibrahim, 144 Kinzer, Stephen, 92 Kirkuk, Iraq, 154 Kişanak, Gülten, 201 Koçgiri rebellion, 85 , Kongra-Gel (People s Congress of Kurdistan or KGK), 4, 182 KON-KURD, 187 Kool Savas (Cool War), 173 Kosovar Albanians, 81–82 Krekar, Mullah, 103–104 KRG: credibility in northern Iraq among Kurds, 168; vs. PKK insurgencies, 168; and Turkish entrepreneurs, 163 Kurdish activism in Europe, 181; closing down of VIKO Fernseh Producktion GmbH, 182; and Court of First Instance of the European Union, 182; guerrilla recruitment and training, 181; kidnapping of German tourists, 182–83; political radicalization, 181; transnational criminal operations, 181 Kurdish activists, southeastern provinces, 196–97 Kurdish areas, cross-border, 103 Kurdish communities and AKP, 72–73 Kurdish cultural rights as wedge issue in Turkish domestic politics, 76

250

Index

Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP): seditious activities, 164, 166; violence, 122, 198; banning of, 15, 164,166; cf. Sinn Fein, 122–123; and criminal proceedings against peace group members, 196; and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 3, 15; and raising democratic standards, 122; Kurdish diaspora, 92–98; conflicts with Turkey, 180; cultural, multi-media means of protest, 167–68; movement from PKK tactics, 183–84; organizations from Turkey, 89; radicalization, post-1980, 4; recruitment among, 178–79; Turkish conscription from, 143–45 Kurdish DTP and PKK and arrival of peace groups, 196 Kurdish-German rap music, 173–76 Kurdish Human Rights Project (KHRP), 66, 94–95, 98–99, 166–67 Kurdish identity: and Kurdish initiative, 166; reactions to/connotations of in U.S. public, 45 Kurdish Initiative, of government, dormant by 2010, 197; Harbur Gate events as publicity stunt, 194; lack of clear plan of action re PKK, 192–93; obstacles, 161–64; participants, 159–62; PKK disruption of , government s, 196; and PKK successful demonstration crossing from Iraq to Turkey, 193; postponed for foreseeable future, 165; public perceptions of, 192; successes, 168 Kurdish intellectuals, 3 Kurdish jihadi groups, 103 Kurdish language: curtailment of instruction in, 69, 167–68; officially forbidden, 80; restrictions on use of, 39; Turkish hostility to, 75 Kurdish language TRT6 channel, 33–34, 166 Kurdish marginalization, 68 Kurdish militants: and autonomous Kurdish region, 22; incubation of, 3; as threat to Turkish integrity, 22 Kurdish minority issues and Parliament, 166 Kurdish mobilization/radicalization, cf. Latin America, 57–58; and

difficulties collaborating with authorities, 187 Kurdish names, and politics of naming, 10–11 Kurdish nationalist sentiments, vs. Turkish military, 136 Kurdish nationalist Sunni jihadist organizations, 103 Kurdish Opening, 159–60 Kurdish Parliament in Exile (KPE), 86 Kurdish Peace Initiative in Turkey, 171 Kurdish political, cultural, civil rights, as litmus test for democracy, 76–77 Kurdish political groups and youth violence, 200 Kurdish political parties, role of women, 201 Kurdish politicians: and accusations of supporting ethnic separatism, 67; and accusations of PKK alliances, 67–68; as independent candidates, 67; and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 67 Kurdish question: as base of unresolved Turkish conflicts, 76; and Turkish society, 19; in United States, European foreign policy circles, 32; in U.S. policy analysis, 2 Kurdish rap music: and Kurdish ethnic pride, 175–76; and PKK recruitment efforts, 179; and political controversy, 180 Kurdish Regional Government (KRG), 34, 43, 105, 153 Kurdish rights, 76 Kurdish Transnational Movement, 184; dissention and protection, 186; failure to establish ideological unity on broad scale, 186; lack of unified position, 186; lack of unifying leadership, 187; legal political activism, 187; and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 186; political lobbying by, 187; and question of Turkish accession, 187; as unauthorized challenger community, 187 Kurdish tribal communities pre-World War I, 79 Kurdish Workers Party, 42. See PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan) Kurdistan, 43–44, 101

Index Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), 103, 104, 153 Kurdistan Freedom and Democracy Congress (KADEK), 4 Kurdistan Freedom Falcons (TAK), 32, 35, 36–37 Kurdistan Rundbrief, 185 Kurds: and AKP parliamentary majority, 2007, 189; anti-Turkish ambushes, 54–55; assimilated into Turkish society, 2–3, 17, 26; and Assyrian, Armenian suffering, 90–91; attitude towards establishment of independent state/autonomous region, 32, 95; and British post-1918, 80; vs. Christian forces, 81; civil society organizations, 6; and collaboration with neighboring empires, 79; disagreements with PKK, 30; ethnic issues, 11, 172; ethno-nationalist groups, 74–75; in Europe, 4–5, 7, 8, 33, 85; geographic distribution, 12; and Germany, 8, 142; , Hussein s poison gas attacks on, 87; and increasing Turkish mistrust, 118; initial support for Turkish Republic, 81; and Kemalism, 17, 85; lack of European enthusiasm for, 54; massacres, 81–82; militant strategy, 6; as Mountain Turks, 11; multiple nature of, 72; nationalism issues, 12, 74; nature of as group, 33; and Northern Kurdistan vs. Southeast Anatolia, 11; opportunities for recognition of, 14–15; as paramilitary forces/buffers, 79; participation in Armenian, Assyrian massacres, 91–92; as percentage of Turkish population, 12; rejection of Atatürk as liberator of Eastern Anatolia, 85; relationship with Ottoman Empire, 102; religious issues, 12, 17, 72; repression after 1925, 81–82; repression of cultural rights of, 39–40; resistance vs. disappearance in southeastern provinces, 189; with secular ideological commitments, 33; societal expectations, 162; and southeastern provinces, 12; state efforts to marginalize, 65; 17; as Turkish ethnic minority, 4; and Turkish perception of creeping Islamization,

251

118; and Turkish resistance to Greeks, Armenians, 81; vs. Turkish state interests, 189; worsening relations with Turkey during Iraq war, 153; and WPT, 74; as Yezidi (Yazidi) communities, 12, 17; Zazaki-speaking, 86 Laçine, Sedat, 142, 159 Laiklik, 24, 26 Lausanne Peace Conference and subsumation of Kurds, 80 Laz in southeast provinces, 11 Leggewie, Claus, 32 Madimak Hotel in Sivas, 136 Mardin, Serif, 13; on European Union pressure on Turkey, 13; and importance of internally organic reforms, 14; vs. imposing change from outside, 14; on internal Turkish intellectual developments, 13–14 Mater, Nadire, 139–40 McDowall, David, 92–93, 110 Media attention to atrocities vs. Muslims, 88 Med-TV, 185 Medya-TV, 185 Menderes, Adnan, 106–7 Merkel, Angela, 32, 53, 182–83 Middle East Report Online (MERO), 198 Milli Istihbahrat Teşkilati (MIT), 159 Minority Rights Group International (MRG): classification of religious minorities, 11–12; and Diyarbakir Bar Association, 28 MMC TV, 31 Molyneux-Seel, Captain, 88 Mountain Turks, 11 Multicultural Odysseys (Kymlicka), 90 Muslim countries and colonial occupation, 24 Muslim faith and modernization in Turkey, 17; Turkish elite perception of, as hampering progress, and neo-Ottomanism, 19 Muslims: as Mountain Turks, 11; not religious minorities, 11–12; reaction to “Valley of the Wolves”, 114 “Mustafa” (Dündar), 97–98

252

Index

Nakşibendi Sufi order, 33, 81 Nasser, Gamal, 18 National Action Party (MHP), 177 Nationalism, Turkish, Islamic, Kurdish interpretations of, 12 National Liberation Front of Kurdistan (ERNK), 110 National Movement party (MHP), 177 National Security Council (NSC), 23; and military domination, 129 National Unity Initiative. See Kurdish Opening: division over Iraq invasion plans, 151 Neo-Ottomanism: critics of, 18–19; Kemalists vs., 18–19; and the Kurdish secular left, 19; and the left, 19; as multiculturalism, 18; and Muslim identity, 19 Netherlands: and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan): 8, 181–82; Newroz TV, 31 Neyzi, Leyla, 84, 87 Nezan, Kendal, 81–82 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 17, 18 Northern Kurdistan, 11, 41 Norway and Mullah Krekar, 103–4 Obama, Barak: and AKP signals, 34; support for democratic consolidation, 24 Öcalan, Abdullah: capture of, 3, 14–15, 112; and charges of torture, 187; consequences of capture, 19; declaration of war on Germany, 9; demands for improved living conditions for, 202; early activities, 109; image at Frankfurt Book Fair (2008), 42; images at festivals, 171; involvement in negotiated resolution, , 161; leader of PKK s command structure, 111; and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 2; sense of urgency, growing paranoia, 196; vs. Yalcinkaya, 66 OECD (Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development) aid package blocked, 7 Öktem, Kerem, 72 Önis, Zya, 47

Operation Sledgehammer, 145–46 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), 17 Oriental hip hop, 172–73 Örnek, Özden, 145 Ottoman Empire: Christians and Muslims in, 92; demise and assumptions about Islam, 15; extermination policies at end of, 40; First Balkan War territorial losses, 83; and Kurds, 102 Ottoman rule: vs. Kemalism, 55 Ottoman society: bureaucratic class, 13; secularism, 13; version of modernity, 13 Özal, Turgut, 163; and recognition of Kurdish minority, 14 Özdemir, Cem, 185 Özgüden, 74–75 Özgüden, Dogˇ an, 73–74 Özgür Gündem (Free Agenda), 174 Özgür Politika (Free Politics), 174 Pakistan-Afghanistan border regions, 102 Palestinian Black September movement, 109 Pamuk, Orhan, 39, 40, 41, 100 Parliamentary election of 2007, 65 Pasha, Enver, 83 Pasha, Talaat, 83 Peace and Democracy Party (BDP), 200–201 Penal code article 301: EU recommendation for repeal, 52 , People s Congress of Kurdistan (Kongra-Gel), 112 , People s Defense Forces (HPG), 182–83 , People s Democracy Party (HADEP), 66 , People s Labor Party (HEP), 65 , People s Liberation Army of Kurdistan (ARGK), 110 , People s Liberation Army of Turkey (THKO), 107–108 Peres, Shimon, 18 Perwer, Sivan, 167, 179–80, 186, 187 Phillips, David L., 163 PKK ambush at Semdinli in Hakari province, 46–47 PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 2; 3rd operational phase, 112; activity in Iraqi

Index Makhmour Refugee Camp, 191–92; aging of, 195–96; AKP contact limited, 2009, 122; areas of operation, 35; authoritarian leadership, 3; cf Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), 111; collaboration with human rights organizations, 183; collaboration with Iranian-based PJAK, 183; continued strength, 2007, 120; and Court of First Instance of European Union, 182; demand for general amnesty and reintegration, 202; democraticcentralism, 3; Diyarbakir Prison as recruiting ground, 110; and drug trade operations, 159; dual track approach, 122; and economics as conqueror, 163; end of ceasefire, 2004, 121; ethnic nationalism, 3; ethno-national appeal, mid-1980s, 111; European– Turkish–Syrian networks, 7; European/U.S. attitudes towards, 43; expansion of sanctuary in northern Iraq, 114; failure of AKP to weaken, 70–71; fourth operational response, 112; as fragmented organization, 35–36; at Frankfurt Book Fair (2008), 42; goals and activities, 111–112; , government s options for dealing with, 30; 4; guerrilla activity, 3–4, 12, 111, 125; Imrali phase, 112; insurgencies, 3, 105–106 110–11; 35; and Işik, Haydar, 86; and Islamization process in 21st century, 120; and Kani Xulam, 99; vs. KRG, 168; 47; and larger Turkish context, 24–25; linkages with transnational criminal syndicates, 43; and mainstream political circles, 187; Marxist–Leninist ideology, 3; militant/ radical vs. terrorist, 9–10; as militant underground organization in 1978, 111; and military conflicts, 136; name changes, 4; nature of as group, 35; in northern Iraq, 19; options for dealing with, 46; possibilities in 2011, 198–99, 9; public pressure vs., 28; reasons for continued support, 79; reasons for strong survival, 29; relations with European Union states, 20; renamed Freedom and Democracy Congress of Kurdistan (KADEK), 112; renewal

253

of guerilla action, 2005, 117; rise of, 92–93; in rural areas, 3; and September 11, 2001, 112–13, 143; vs. TAK, 35; terrorist organization or transnational criminal network, 44; threats to expand operations, 122; transnational linkages, 5; use of multi-media opportunities, 169; and U.S. interests, personnel, 46; and U.S. military needs in Iraq, 45; violence by, 9, 46,47, 54–55 PKK in Europe: current activity in Europe, 173–74; activity in European countries, 4, 46, 112, 181–82, 186; European responses to extradition requests, 30–31; and Germany, 8–9, 91; Frankfurt Book Fair, 2008, 42; linkage to leftist European politics, 9; as militants, 112–113; post-2003 policy in, 112–113; post-2011 policy in, 112–113; radicalization, 9; and Turkish relations with Europe PKK and Kurds: disagreement with Kurdish minority, 30; responding to Kurdish demands, 190; and ethnic Kurds from Syria, 110; Iraqi Kurdish area as model for Kurdish self-government, 35; vs. Kurdish civil society organizations, 6; and Kurdish Democratic Society party, 15; and Kurdish legitimization in southeastern provinces, 195; and Kurdish lack of authentic agency/representation, 27, 47; Kurdish support for, 29; linkage with Kurdish elites, 181; recruitment of diaspora Kurds 168–169; and Turkish hostility to Kurdish parties, 66 PKK and Turkey: classification as threat to nation, 78, 104; Erdogan’s policy, 128; government’s options for dealing with; larger Turkish context, 24–25; Turkish military actions against; role of Turkish intellectual class vis-à-vis, 29; Turkey’s counterproductive policies against, 107; and Turkey’s territorial integrity; and Turkish military, 25, 112; Turkish raids on 18; and Turkish relations with Europe, 19–20; Turkish strategic failures, 159–160; Turkish war with PKK, 19

254

Index

Qajar Iran, 79 Radikal, 138–139, 162 Radio Free Europe, 192 Rap, Turkish–Kurdish and rise of youth violence in Germany, 176 Rehn, Olli, 54 Religious Turks: parliamentary election of 2007, 65 Reporters sans Frontieres (Reporters without Borders), 40–41 , Republican People s Party (CHP), 62, 192 Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), 71 Revolutionary Cultural Society of the East (DDKO), 108–109, 109 Revolutionary Eastern Cultural Hearths, 57 Richardson, Bill, 99 Riza, Seyit, 81–82 “A Roadmap for the Solution to the Kurdish Question: Policy Proposals from the Region for the Government” (TESEV): participants, 189–90; recommendations, 190; rejection by AKP government, 190 ROJ-Group, 31 Roj TV, 31, 184–185 Roj Yunis, 176 Ronahî, Sehît (Andrea Wolf), 110 Rote Armee Fraktion (RAF), 109 Rudd, Kevin, 84 Rumlar as officially designated Turkish minority, 11 Russian Empire prior to 1918, 79 , Saddam Hussein s reign of terror, 155–156 Safak, 58 Salafists, 103 Salt, Jeremy, 23 Sarkozy, Nicoas, 32, 53, 61 Satana, Nil, 132 Saygun, Ergin, 145 “Scream Bloody Murder” (Amanpour), 87 Secular elites’ fear of Islamization, 52–53; Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), 57 Sener, Nedim, 40 September 11, 2001, 112–13

Serhado, 176 Sertan, 178 Seven, Nedim, 30 Sèvres, betrayal of, 97 Sèvres syndrome, 97 Sheikh Said revolt, 81, 85 Shiite Muslims, 17 Sixth International Conference on EU, Turkey and the Kurds, 167 Solomon, Thomas, 175 Southeast Anatolia, 11 Southeast Anatolian problem, 32 Southeastern provinces: Armenians in, 11; Assyrians in, 11; brutality of war in, 139–40; Kurds in, 11; resistance patterns, 200 Soviet Union: invasion of Afghanistan, 6–7; Turkey as buffer state, 7 Spain, 70 State repression: and PKK, 3 Steinmeier, Frank-Walter, 39 Stoiber, Edmund, 116–17 Sufi orders, 81 Sunni Islam, 71 Sunni Muslims, 17 Sunni Muslims, 72, 81; and AKP, 72 Supreme Council of Radio and Television (RTUK), 41 Susurluk scandal, 146 Syria, 81; formation of, 80; PKK sympathizers, 3; and Turkey, 18 TAK, 198–99 Talabani, Jalal, 156 Tan, Altan, 162 Tan, Bdii, 162 Tanrikuu, SezGin: lack of political will, 69 Tanzimat reformist era, 13 Taraf, 138–39 Temizöz, Cemal, 148 Ten percent rule, 201 Terrorism/to terrorize distinction, 9–10 , Today s Zaman, 120, 145–46, 158, 162 Towards Turkish military democracy, 164–65 Treaty of Sèvres, 80 Tugˇ lu, Aysel, 164 Tugˇ luk, Ayse, 122–23 Tugˇ luk, Aysel, 198

Index Tugˇ savul-Özgüden, Inci, 74 Tunçel, Sebahat, 201 Tunceli/Dersim, 11 Türk, Ahmad, 164 Túrk, Ahmet, 198 Türk, Ahmet, 66, 90, 167 Turkey: in 1960s cf Mexico, 107; anti-American sentiments, Iraq War, 113; arms deals with Germany, 8; artificial reshaping of multiethnic identity, 89; and authorized versions of Turkishness, 96; breadth of contemporary political spectrum, 61–62; as buffer state vs. Iran, 7; buffer state vs. Soviet Union, 7; and bureaucratization, 56; and Bush administration attitudes, 115; and capitalism, 56; casualties of war with Kurds, 49–51; civil society organizations in, 6; and Cold War, 6, 17, 20; consequences of intransigency, 49–51; contemporary mid-eastern role, 18; counter-insurgency vs. Kurds, 8; coup of 1971 and martial law, 109; coup of 1980, 110; current challenges to status quo, 27; Decade of Democrats, 107; denial to U.S. troops for use of Turkey to stage Iraq invasion, 117; dilution doubts about state legitimacy, 54; education and poverty and radicalization, 58; vs. European imperialism, 56; vs. European support for Kurdish media, 31; and European/U.S. attitudes towards PKK, 43; extermination policies vs. Assyrian minority, 40; extermination policies vs. Dersim Alevi Kurdish population, 40; extermination policies vs. Greek minority, 40; failures to deal with Kurdish questions, 45–46; falsification of history, 83–84; and forced assimilation of Kurds, 76; and Gaza, 76; genocide of Armenians, 40; and Hamas, 76; and separatist activities, 41; hostility ideological inflexibility re PKK, 49; increasing excavation of history, 84; independent foreign policy vs. U.S., 117; ingrained conflict parameters in, 37 internal migration,

255

56; Iran concerns, 22; and Israel, 18, 76; Kemalists vs. Islamic parties, 60; leftist criticism of, 7; leftist movements of 1970s, 107–8; memberships in European organizations, 17; and military issues, 7, 23, 6, 130; modernization process, 33; modern rational thinkers vs. ethnic minorities, 17; multiculturalism (neoOttomanism), 18; Muslim faith vs. modernization, 17; national security concerns, 20–22; and NATO, 18, 115; necessity for historical reassessment, 84; and northern Iraq border, 105; and Palestine, 18; as party-free country, 41; persecution of writers, political activists, 41; possible use of truth commission, 27; post-coup constitution of 1961, 106–7; privileged partnership vs. full membership in European Union, 32; proposed constitutional reform, 164–65; protection of minority rights as litmus test, 31; reconsidering national identity, 79; relations with Europe, 34–35; relations with United States, 34, 21; response to September 11, 2001, 21; right-wing vs. left leaning parties and nationalism, 76; role of civil society, 28; secularism in, 24; secularism vs. militant religiousness, 58, 59; secular modernization vs. marginalized religious communities, 59–60; secular vs. socially conservative ethnic Kurds, 57–58; social and class-based divisions, 17; state control of official Islam, 58; and Syria, 18; in Turkish histories, 83; and unexamined Armenian slaughter, 83; unexamined treatment of Muslim minorities, 83; and urbanization, 57; use of word genocide in, 27; and U.S. invasion of Iraq, 21; –U.S.–NATO incident and anti-American sentiments, 113–114; vs. Europe, growing hostility, 32; war against PKK, 146–147; what it needs to do vs. PKK, 48–50 Turkey, Republic of: formation of, 80 Turkey and civil liberties: authoritarian response to YouTube, 101; press

256

Index

policies, 42; forbidden terms (politically charged code words), 41; government limits on religious expression, 58; hostility to criticism of state ideology, 78; interference with Turks living abroad and child naming, 96; problems of writing in Kurdish, 41; limitations on freedom of speech and press, 38–40, 74, 150–51 Turkey and Iraq War: deteriorating Turkish–U.S.–Nato relations, 151; election of ErdoGan and AK legal Grand National Assembly vs. U.S. requests to fly missions from Turkey, 150–151; increasing threats from PKK in Iraq, 157; no means to defeat PKK, 152–153; an PKK attacks, 154; proposals for military reform, 158; strains between military and AKP, 151; strengthening Turkish–Arab–Muslim relations, 151; Turkey as pawn, 151–152; and Turkish hopes for defeat of PKK, 150; Turkish military failure to adapt, 158; and Turkish political destabilization, 157; U.S. invasion as setback for Turkey, 156; worsening of Kurdish parties, Turkish relations, 153 Turkey and the European Union: agreements for, 14; consequence of restrictive religious policies on European Union attitudes, 61; domestic policy disputes and the European Union, 31; doubts about European Union membership, 54; European Union and limits on freedom of expression, 41; and European Union membership questions 22; influence of European Union, 32; media rights and aspirations to become full European Union member, 31, 76 , Turkey s Constitutional Court, 15 , Turkey s secular elites: domination by, 17; and partnership with Europe, 20; western orientation, 17 Turkey–U.S.: conflict over roles of Turkey, 115 Turkish cyber intervention, 100 Turkish accession: interest in, by European Parliament, 187

Turkish Armed Forces Internal Services Law: and defense of constitution, 126 Turkish army: military coup, 1971, 3 Turkish Constitution, 75 Turkish Constitutional Court: banning of Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP), 15 Turkish constitution of 1982: authoritarian nature of, 126–27; and challenge to AKP legitimacy, 126; defense of, by military, 126–27 Turkish Council of State, 75 Turkish counter-insurgency activities, 147–48 Turkish dissidents, 73 Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation (TESEV), 189 Turkish Exceptionalism: and Serif Mardin, 13 Turkish geography: as advantage in NATO, 116; as disadvantage in EU negotiations, 116 Turkish government Kurdish broadcasts: motivations, 34; vs. PKK, 33 Turkish Hizbullah, 148 Turkish Interpol, 86 Turkish military: and AKP, 77; anti-PKK strategies criticism and failures, , 159–60; Atatürk s guidance, 134; and benefits from regional insecurities, 105–6; and cadets undermining socialization by displaying religious symbols, 120–21; character of coups, 132; conscription practices, 139–41; conscripts in southeastern provinces, 140–42; and constitution of 1982, 126–27; continuing appeal as personal opportunity, 134; continuing the status quo, 131–32; as defender of secular state, 22; and diaspora conscripts, 143–45; and domestic, international security concerns, 129; draft system, , 136–37; vs. El Salvador s military, 137; engine of patriotism, nationalism, 135; and ethnic, religious social divisions, 135–36; evisceration of PKK, 121; and financial, political arrangements with secular business elite, 125; ideology as official organizational beliefs, 148; increasing assertiveness, 2006–2008,

Index 125; intransigence re peace initiatives, 122–23; and Kurdish Initiative, 161; compared to Latin American , militaries, 132–33; minority members demands, 136; National Security Council (NSC), 129; need for reforming professional conduct codes, 148–49; obstacles to reform, 133; and perceived Kurdish threat, 77; perception of as backbone of Turkey, 124–25; vs. PKK as zero-sum game, 124; and PKK conflicts, 136; pre-Iraq war counterinsurgency vs. Iraqi Kurds, 155–56; public image of, 137–38; and question of legality of coups, 126; inexperienced conscripts vs. PKK, 140–41; recent criticism, 139; reform of Special Forces command, 159; reforms for defeat of PKK, 149; reforms under European Union pressure, 130; role in Turkish democracy, 23; and socialization of males, 137; strength and courage of, , 134–35; use of soldier s names for praying, religious symbols, 120–21; v. democratic consolidation, 22 Turkish military commando units vs. PKK, 142; deep-state operations, 145–48 Turkish military coup, 1971, 3 Turkish military coup, 1980, 3 Turkish National Action Party (MHP), 13 Turkish nationalists: and German racial theories, 99; increasing anger, 95; relations with United States and PKK, 113 Turkish national security concerns: vs. U.S. interests, 117 Turkish Peace Assembly, 201 Turkish Penal Code, article 301, 42 Turkish political culture, 23 Turkish political liberal elites: vs. minority community leaders, 52 Turkish Republic: denial of distinct identities within, 90 Turkish Republic: vs. Arab states, 17–18; de-emphasis of linguistic/religious/ ethnic distinctions, 11; as disorienting, alienating, marginalizing, 26; establishment of, 55; formation of, 11;

257

raids vs. Kurdish activists in Turkey, 18; secular ideology and Islam, 14; western orientation, 17 Turkish response to PKK insurgency, 112; and intensification of rural violence, 112 Turkish secular elites: vs. AKP government, 55; discomfort with being Muslim buffer state, 117 Turkish security paradigm: alternatives to, 6 Turkish society: and belief in democracy, 133–34; inadequate social progress, 128; questions of identity, post-Ottoman Empire, 26 Turkish State: banishment and arrest of elected officials, 15 Turkish state: closure of Kurdish media, 184; and international dynamics of Kurdish conflict, 6; vs. Kurdish parties/ political leaders, 66; martial law, 3; war with PKK, 19 Turkish terrorism: and Turkish security forces, 147 Turkish War of Independence, 80 Turks: in Germany, 142; interpretation of nationalism, 12; nationalist displays, 12–13; as refugees in Europe, 7 Turks, secular: and misinterpretation of assimilation policies, 17 Turks, secular elites: and relations with Europe, 17 Turks, ultra-nationalist: suspicion of entire religious minority, 72 Uca, Feleknas, 12, 186–87 United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), 191 United Kingdom, 70; and PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan), 181–82 United Movement for Democracy, 201 United States: attitude towards Turkish military democracy, 23; invasion of Iraq, 19; minimization of relationship with Turkey, 115; and Pakistan–Afghanistan border region, 102–3; reaction to “Valley of the Wolves,” 114; relations with Turkey, 34; response to PKK, 47–48; support for Kurds in northern Iraq, 97–98; Turkey as regional Muslim ally, 117

258

Index

United States military and Kurdish forces in northern Iraq, 21 Uslu, Emre, 158, 198 Vakit, 58 “Valley of the Wolves Iraq” (Kurtlar Vadisi Iraka), 113–14 van Wilgnburg, 194 Venice Commission of the Council of Europe, 164 Vlaams Belang, 53 Vlaams Blok, 53 Voices from the Front: Turkish Soldiers on the War with the Kurdish Guerrillas (Mater), 140 Ward, Benjamin, 146–47 Warheit, 175 Web use: cyber attacks, 100; cyber intervention, 100; protest activities, 100–101; YouTube, 100 Western Europe: Kurdish fundraising, support in, 4; PKK sympathizers, 3 West Germany: asylum policies, 7; guest worker programs, 5; and Kurdish/ Turkish political refugees, 7; Kurds in, 5 Wilson, Ross, 156–57 Wolf, Andrea (Sehît Ronahî), 109–110

Women, role of in Kurdish political parties, 201 , Women s Initiative for Peace, 201 Workers Party of Turkey, 73–74 107–9 World Organization against Torture (OMCT), 196–97 Xatar (Danger), 173, 176, 177 Xulam, Kani, 10–11, 98–100 Yalçinkaya, Abdurrahman, 66 Yavuz, Hakan, 26 Yegˇ en, Mesut, 198–99 YEK-KOM, 171, 181, 186 Yeni Özgür Politica, 31 Yeni Özgür Politica (New Free Politics), 169, 173–74, 185 Yildiz, Kerim, 166–67 , YÖK (Turkey s Higher Education Board), 168 YouTube, 167, 174, 177 Yüksel, Edip, 59 Zaman, 58, 115 Zana, Leyla, 65–66, 99–100, 164 Zazaki-speaking Kurds, 86 Zerya, 178

About the Author

VERA ECCARIUS-KELLY is an associate professor of political science at Siena College in Loudonville, NY. Her areas of research and teaching focus on political activism in Muslim minority communities in Europe and revolutionary movements in Latin America. Over the past 10 years, she has interviewed Kurdish political activists and members of the banned Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) in Europe. In several scholarly articles and book chapters she has evaluated the ways in which the Kurdish diaspora has increased international pressure on Turkey to recognize socio-cultural and political rights for the Kurdish minority in Turkey. Her work has been published in The Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, The Fletcher Forum of World Affairs, Peace Review, and Migration Letters, and she has contributed several book chapters to edited volumes. She grew up in Düsseldorf, Germany.