The Securitisation of News in Turkey: Journalists as Terrorists? [1st ed.] 9783030493806, 9783030493813

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THE PALGRAVE MACMILLAN SERIES IN INTERNATIONAL POLITICAL COMMUNICATION

The Securitisation of News in Turkey Journalists as Terrorists? Natalie Martin

The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication Section Editor Philip Seib Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism University of Southern California Los Angeles, CA, USA

From democratization to terrorism, economic development to conflict resolution, global political dynamics are affected by the increasing pervasiveness and influence of communication media. This series examines the participants and their tools, their strategies and their impact. More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14418

Natalie Martin

The Securitisation of News in Turkey Journalists as Terrorists?

Natalie Martin Department of Politics and IR University of Nottingham Nottingham, UK

The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication ISBN 978-3-030-49380-6 ISBN 978-3-030-49381-3  (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49381-3 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: © Harvey Loake This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Preface

This book is dedicated to all those still trying to speak truth unto power—and to those who have suffered just for doing their jobs. Solidarity. Nottingham, UK

Natalie Martin

Acknowledgements  For Andy, Lizzie, Tim and our dog, Hobnob, with love.

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Contents

1 Introduction 1 Turkey as a Jailer of Journalists 2 From Bad to Worse 4 A “…continued and profound crisis” of News Media Freedom 5 How and Why: AKP Power and Journalism as Political Opposition 6 References 8 2 The Securitisation of News: A Thin Veneer of Democracy 11 Theory 13 Securitisation 15 Authoritarianism 16 Methodology 19 Conclusion 20 References 21 3 News Media and the State Pre-AKP 25 Introduction 25 The News Media as an Arm of the State 27 Kemalism and the Securitisation of News 33 Conclusion 37 References 39

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CONTENTS

4 The AKP and the Kemalist News Media 41 Introduction 42 The AKP and the Kemalists 43 The Kemalist News Media as a Secondary Target: Ergenekon 46 The Kemalist News Media as a Primary Target 59 Conclusion 62 References 63 5 The AKP and the Kurdish News Media 65 Introduction 66 The AKP and the Kurds 68 The Kurdish News Media as a Secondary Target 70 The Kurdish News Media as a Primary Target 76 Conclusion 85 References 87 6 The AKP and the Gülenist News Media 89 Introduction 89 The AKP and the Gülen Movement 91 The Gülenist Media as a Secondary Target 102 The Gülenist Media as a Primary Target 107 Conclusion 108 References 110 7 The Securitisation of News—Illiberal Democracy 113 Introduction 113 The News Media in Turkey: Perpetrators and Victims 115 Why It Was Done: Consolidation of Power 117 How It Was Done: The Securitisation of News 118 Conclusion 123 References 124 8 Conclusion 125 Glossary 129 Index 131

About

the

Author

Natalie Martin  was a BBC news producer who went back to academia in 2007 to do a Ph.D. at Loughborough University on the Turkey-EU accession process 1999–2004. She is now an Assistant Professor in the Department of Politics and IR at the University of Nottingham. Dr. Martin is the author of “Security and the Turkey-EU Accession Process: Norms, Reforms and the Cyprus Issue” (Palgrave 2015) and has also published on related issues in the BJMES and JCMS. More recently she has concentrated on the role of news media freedom and journalism in Turkey and elsewhere. She tweets @drnataliemartin.

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List of Tables

Table 7.1 Table 7.2

The tripartite power struggle of Turkish politics 115 Timeline of secondary to primary securitisation of journalism in Turkey 119

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Abstract  Turkey has been notorious as a jailer of journalists since 2012. It topped the Committee to Protect Journalism’s league table that year and has not moved far since—currently standing in second place, behind China. This chapter looks behind the headline statistics to tease out how the issue of press freedom is entwined with the wider battle for power in Turkish politics—between Kemalism, Islamism and the Kurdish issue—which has been fought since the republic was established. Whilst acknowledging that press freedom has long been an issue, it ultimately argues the situation has declined rapidly since 2012 and the figures are an indicator of the authoritarian drift aimed at consolidating the power of the ruling AK Party of Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Journalism is now just another form of political opposition for the AKP—and therefore needs to be tamed. The securitisation of it is a means to do so whilst retaining a semblance of international legitimacy for the AKP which continues to insist it is not jailing journalists—but “terrorists”. Keywords  Kemalism · Islamism News media freedom · AKP

· Kurdish issue ·

© The Author(s) 2020 N. Martin, The Securitisation of News in Turkey, The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49381-3_1

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Turkey as a Jailer of Journalists Turkey’s notoriety as a jailer of journalists is relatively recent. Although it has never had a good reputation in terms of “liberal” democracy thanks to regular, and illiberal, coup d’états, it only began to attract the focused attention of international civil society groups concerned with news media freedom in 2011. Until that point the number of journalists in prison in Turkey was in single figures and consisted of the usual suspects: ­long-time adversaries associated with leftist or Kurdish causes. However, the number of journalists behind bars, just for doing their job, doubled from four to eight in 2010–2011 prompting the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) to write to the then Minister of Justice in the AKP government, Sadullah Ergin, to note its “alarm” (CPJ 2012). The newly detained had mostly been reporting on Kurdish issues but also included Ahmet Şık and Nedem Şener of the Kemalist establishment flagship broadsheet newspaper, Cumhuriyet. Alongside the CPJ’s “alarm” at this sudden increase was the “concern” of the Council of Europe whose Commissioner for Human Rights Thomas Hammarberg had found the state of media freedom in Turkey “particularly worrying” and urged the authorities to take urgent measures to uphold media rights and “…promote pluralism and a climate of tolerance towards criticism and dissent” (Council of Europe 2011). It is hugely ironic that the statistics which sparked the “alarm” and “concern” in 2011 would now be viewed with relief—as the situation for press freedom in Turkey has deteriorated markedly since then. The following year, the CPJ figure jumped even more dramatically, from eight to 47, and further still, to 81, in 2016. At the time of writing (January 2020), the figure has reduced back down to 47 but Turkey remains at the top of the global league tables for the number of journalists in prison, second only to China with 48 on CPJ figures. This volume looks behind the headline figures to pinpoint why and how this has happened. It argues that the issue should be seen in the context of Turkish politics going back to the foundation of the Republic in 1923 and is the latest iteration of the three-way power struggle between the Kurds, the Kemalists and Islamists which has been waging since then. The AKP is the current winner in this battle having seen off its Kemalist, Kurdish and rival Islamist opponents, and the repression of news media freedom is part of its ongoing quest to consolidate its power. Hence the

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reason there are so many journalists imprisoned in Turkey is due to the AKP’s determination to quash scrutiny and political opposition. This has been achieved by the securitisation of political opposition of all kinds as nominal cover for the repression of it and reflects the increasingly authoritarian trajectory of the Ankara government in recent years (Esen and Gümüşçü 2016; see also Özbudun 2014; Akkoyunlu and Öktem 2016; Tansel 2018). However, even illiberal governments want to appear liberal, and it is much more “acceptable” to lock up a terrorist than an activist for example, so if you can call the activist a terrorist, fewer questions will be asked as quickly (Jackson 2005). It is not argued that this was necessarily believed by observers, but it has consistently been the rhetorical response of the AKP government to perceived political opposition (Martin 2018). The imprisoning of journalists is particularly heinous to liberal democratic sensibilities so the securitisation discourse has been at the core of the AKP’s strategy in repressing the news media. This was in evidence during President Erdoğan’s a state visit to the UK in May 2018—which included an audience with Queen Elizabeth II. When questioned by the British media about the high numbers of their Turkish counterparts in prison, Erdoğan replied firstly that the figures were wrong and secondly that the journalists under investigation were terrorists: We are talking about… those who have been caught red-handed bearing weapons, those who have been killing people. Are we supposed to call them journalists just because they bear the credentials and identity cards? (The Guardian, May 15, 2018)

Journalism has been a target of illiberal governments in Turkey for many decades in order to stem the reporting of wider illiberality (Yesil 2014). It was the collateral damage of maintaining a strong state in the cause of Kemalist “democracy” and this continued after the AKP came to power. More recently however, journalism has been treated as a form of political opposition in its own right and securitised to justify this persecution which has manifested itself in the very high number of imprisoned journalists in Turkey and its current notoriety surrounding media freedom.

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From Bad to Worse There is little dispute, outside of the AKP inner sanctum, that Turkey’s press freedom record has gone from bad—during the Kemalist and early AKP years—to much worse since 2011. The news media cannot tell any “truth unto power” without fear of reprisals and this has deteriorated further since the attempted coup d’état of July 2016 which facilitated a clampdown on dissent of all kinds. In its early years in power the AKP followed the pattern initially established by the authoritarianism of the Ataturk era. Thereafter the media developed as an adjunct of the state linked by a network of patronage (Yesil 2016). This took place within the well-documented efforts of the Kemalist elite in Turkey to keep Ataturk’s legacy on track through regular military interventions creating an uneasy hybrid of authoritarianism in the name of “democracy” (Dodd 1990). Except during acute phases of the coups, the press was nominally free as long as it did not transgress the interests of the state too much. Moreover, the news media, as adjuncts to those in charge, were also, at times, complicit at this time in creating a hostile environment for any forces considered a security threat to the Kemalist state such as leftist and Kurdish groups, and, to a lesser extent, Islamism (Yesil 2016). Hence Turkey did not have a strong tradition of the fourth estate as a scrutinising force even before the AKP took power, so it is not argued here that it introduced illiberalism in press matters to Turkey. However, the situation has deteriorated under the AKP—and this decline reflects the fortunes of the party in the ongoing power struggle between the dominant factions in Turkish politics. The pattern and severity of news media repression have echoed the power struggles being fought by the AKP at any one time. The 2011 increase was the result of the Koma Civakên Kurdistan (Kurdistan Communities Union—KCK) and, to a lesser extent, Ergenekon investigations. To add weight to this argument, the number dipped to seven in 2014 because the Kurdish KCK and Kemalist Ergenekon detainees were released as the AKP refocused its attentions onto the Gülen movement following the split. It then increased again after July 2016 as attention on Gülen sharpened following the attempted coup d’état. Journalism has been implicated in the AKP’s various attempts to reduce the influence of the ever-changing threats to its power.

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So, the current dire state of news media freedom is arguably the worse it has ever been1 and should be seen through the lens of AKP self-interest. Journalists have been imprisoned when their output or the cause they are associated with is perceived by the AKP to be a longterm threat to its power base. From 2007 to 2013 this was Kurdish and Kemalist journalists. Since 2013, the Gülen movement has joined the fray following the acrimonious split with the AKP in December of that year. The AKP’s concern at the potential of Gülen and his followers to wreak revenge on its electoral fortunes initially distracted its attention from the Kurds and Kemalists although by 2015 they were back in its sights. Since 2016 alleged Gülenists have been the main target of the AKP which has escalated the securitising approach by associating them with the Fethullahçı Terör Örgütü (Fetullah Terrorist Organisation—FETÖ) with the help of state of emergency powers. Securitisation has been the convenient cover for an authoritarian response whilst maintaining a “democratic” veneer. It has enabled President Erdoğan to deny the statistics of repression necessary to keep him in power with a straight face.

A “…continued and profound crisis” of News Media Freedom The consequence of these circumstances is that Turkey is undergoing the most sustained period of press repression in its history and has become internationally notorious for the number of journalists languishing in jail. The pattern of repression of journalists mirrors the AKP’s own political battles and the number now in prison reflects the reality that the AKP has few remaining allies—and numerous enemies. Whilst journalists associated with mainstream Kemalism and the Kurdish issue remain under the cosh, the most substantial target of AKP ire since 2013 has been the Gülen movement, because it represents the biggest current threat to continuing AKP dominance. It is also noteworthy that whilst involved in illiberality verging on authoritarianism, the AKP seeks to maintain a semblance of liberality and goes to the trouble of securitising journalism to justify the repression of it.

1 I have couched this tentatively because anyone caught up in any of the coup d’états before 2002 may disagree.

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The extreme decline since 2016 as a result of the post-coup purge on Gülenists was what prompted the International Press Institute (IPI) to run a fact-finding mission to Turkey in September 2019, in conjunction with other news media organisations.2 The mission concluded that “… legitimate critical journalism has been conflated with terrorist propaganda, part of a campaign to silence opposition voices and close down free speech”. The IPI added there had been “…egregious violations of fundamental rights” including imprisonment without trial for years (IPI 2019). The purge of Gülenists generated such high figures for arrests— including journalists—because it had provided the opportunity for the AKP government to introduce state of emergency (SoE) powers which facilitated the crackdown. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan insisted were necessary “…to remove swiftly all the elements of the terrorist organisation involved in the coup attempt…” (The Guardian, July 22, 2016). In reality, they facilitated the securitisation of journalism and this can explain the marked and further deterioration of press freedom in Turkey. Since this time the AKP government has also increased its influence over ownership of the news media by enabling and encouraging its own supporters to buy media conglomerations (Yesil 2016). It has also taken control of the judiciary such that it is now “…cowed before a presidential system acting without restraint” and closed a large number of media outlets and securitised journalism by conflating “…critical journalism with support for terrorist groups” (IPI 2019, p. 5). All this has happened at the same time as stretching the definition of “terrorism” almost to breaking point by including “journalism” within it. This result of this toxic discursive cocktail has been the high numbers of Turkish journalists in prison and the deterrence of many others from doing their job. Only “loyal” outlets remain open and only loyal “journalists” have their work published. The opaqueness of the legal system has made scrutiny of the process very difficult.

How and Why: AKP Power and Journalism as Political Opposition Hence, it has been argued that the pattern of repression of news media has reflected whichever faction was deemed to be the most threat to the AKP at any given time. In addition, it is argued in this volume that 2 The

mission also included the CPJ and RSF.

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journalism per se has changed status over time and has become a direct object of AKP concern—rather than being the collateral damage of its attempt to stymie free reporting of other issues (Ergenekon, KCK, etc.). Around the time of the 2016 attempted coup, the repression of the news media transitioned from being the fallout in the AKP’s quest for power to being a target in its own right. After July 2016, and with the help of SoE powers, the AKP began to treat all forms of scrutiny or critique as political opposition including journalism. In this timeframe this was mainly applied to the Gülen movement, but other groups were included. The figures are high now because virtually all groups in Turkey are now seen as potential threats—and therefore so is the journalism and journalists associated with them. This volume therefore traces this story of changing allegiances over time—which has been played out in the forum of press freedom—and the changing status of “journalism” within that process. In order to do this it will establish the state of news media freedom before the AKP took power in 2002. It will then turn to how the issue of press freedom relates to the different factions within Turkish politics: Kemalism, the Kurdish issue and the Gülen movement highlighting the different ways each has been affected, the changing allegiances and how their experiences have converged to form the notoriety Turkey now enjoys. The argument is that there has been a long-term strategy of state patronage of the media leading to a weak journalistic tradition and securitisation of opposition actors, including media professionals. The AKP government after 2002, in cahoots with the Gülen movement at that time, utilised a similar securitisation modus operandi against the Kemalists—and Kurds—and this has intensified incrementally since 2007. This was firstly the Kemalist and Kurdish media and more recently has spiralled after the Gülen movement fell out of favour as well. There has been a snowball effect escalating the effect which has reflected the AKP’s ever more frenetic attempts to consolidate itself in power through erratic discursive strategies in the face of multiple political oppositions. Journalism has moved from being a secondary target during the KCK and Ergenekon times to a primary target since the attempted coup alongside every other dissenting voice. Hence immediately after 2007 it was collateral damage as the AKP sought to suppress reporting of the illiberal prosecutions of military officers and Kurdish activists. Even after the Gülen split, the main impetus the AKP government machine was to suppress Gülenism, rather than imprison Gülen-affiliated journalists in large

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numbers. However, since 2016 journalism has become a primary target alongside academia, the legal profession and wider civil society. The securitisation strategy needed to justify such repression and maintain the pretence of “democracy” has accordingly become increasingly erratic and contradictory as time has passed and this explains Turkey’s notoriety in news media freedom terms. Chapter 2 will examine the theoretical basis of the volume and define the key terms of “journalism”, “securitisation” and “authoritarianism”. Chapter 3 will explore the literature on news media freedom from Ataturk to Bulent Ecevit in the late 1990s and how the Kemalist establishment, including the news media, was complicit in the repression of opposition groups such as the Kurds. The volume then shifts to look at the AKP’s relationship with the news media in relation to the three dominant factions of Turkish politics: the Kemalists, the Kurds and the Gülen movement. In so doing it traces how the various affiliations change over time and the processes inherent within the relationship of the AKP with the groups—and the consolidation of its own power base. In conclusion the volume argues that journalism is now treated as political opposition by the AKP government because its very raison d’etre is to speak truth unto power and the AKP cannot countenance this. The repression of press freedom is a reflection of the AKP’s wider authoritarian drift as it has sought to deflect its political opponents one by one. For now, the AKP is the winner of the ongoing power struggle—and journalism—and its practitioners—is one of the many victims of it.

References Akkoyunlu, K., & Öktem, K. (2016). Existential insecurity and the making of a weak authoritarian regime in Turkey. Southeast European and Black Sea Studies, 16(4), 505–527. Committee to Protect Journalists. (2012). Turkey’s press freedom crisis appendix II: Government responses. https://cpj.org/x/5028. Accessed 12 July 2019. Council of Europe. (2011). Report on visit to Turkey by Thomas Hammarberg. No. CommDH (2011)25/ 12 July 2011. https://rm.coe.int/16806db752. Accessed 26 Aug 2019. Dodd, C. H. (1990). The crisis of Turkish democracy (2nd ed.). Huntingdon: Eothen Press. Esen, B., & Gümüşçü, S. (2016). Rising competitive authoritarianism in Turkey. Third World Quarterly, 37(9), 1581–1606.

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The Guardian. (2016, July 22). EU expresses ‘concern’ over Turkey state of emergency. The Guardian. (2018, May 15). Erdoğan ends UK state visit by calling jailed journalists ‘terrorists’; Turkish president ignores call from Theresa May not to lose sight of defending democracy. International Press Institute. (2019). Journalists in the dock: The judicial silencing of the fourth estate. https://freeturkeyjournalists.ipi.media/wpcontent/ uploads/2019/11/Turkey-Mission-Report-IPI-FINAL4PRINT.pdf Accessed 23 July 2019. Jackson, R. (2005). Writing the war on terrorism: Language, politics, and ­counter-terrorism. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Martin, N. (2018). The A. K. party and the Kurds since 2014: A discourse of terror. British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 45(4), 543–558. Özbudun, E. (2014). AKP at the crossroads: Erdoğan’s majoritarian drift. South European Society and Politics, 19(2), 155–167. Tansel, C. B. (2018). Authoritarian neoliberalism and democratic backsliding in Turkey: Beyond the narratives of progress. South European Society and Politics, 23(2), 197–217. Yesil, B. (2014). Press censorship in Turkey: Networks of state power, commercial pressures, and self-censorship. Communication, Culture & Critique, 7(2), 154–173. Yesil, B. (2016). Media in New Turkey: The origins of an authoritarian neoliberal state (1st ed.). Chicago: University of Illinois Press.

CHAPTER 2

The Securitisation of News: A Thin Veneer of Democracy

Abstract  The securitisation of news in Turkey, and its steep decline since 2012, is an indicator of the authoritarian drift now apparent in Turkish politics. Therefore, it is important to understand the nuances of the situation because this trend is significant for Turkey’s bilateral and institutional relationships. This chapter will establish definitions of “journalism”, “securitisation” and “authoritarianism” before ­ outlining that the AKP has now securitised all forms of political opposition in Turkey, including journalism, in order to justify imprisoning them in such large numbers. It also details the methodology of the volume in terms of qualitative data collection and thematic data analysis. Keywords  Securitisation Democracy · AKP

· Journalism · Authoritarian drift ·

It is accepted that Turkey is not a place where truth can be spoken unto power without fear of reprisal. As Fig. 5.1 showed, Turkey has been at, or near, the top of the CPJ global league tables for the number of journalists imprisoned since 2012, peaking in 2012/3 and again in 2016/17. Moreover, it has been consistently between 149th and 157th out of 180 nations worldwide in terms of news media freedom as assessed by Reporters without Borders (RSF), alongside the notoriously authoritarian central Asian nations. This raises the question therefore of © The Author(s) 2020 N. Martin, The Securitisation of News in Turkey, The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49381-3_2

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why this is significant. Beyond the underlying moral issue, what are the areas of geopolitical concern? The state of news media freedom in Turkey is significant beyond journalistic concerns because of the link to authoritarianism. This, in turn, has implications for the international institutions of which Turkey is a member or aspiring member. The EU has found ways of managing an obviously illiberal Turkey’s expectation regarding the membership process of an ostensibly liberal institution (Martin 2019). Meanwhile, historically NATO has bothered less about Turkey’s human rights record but has become concerned more recently about its somewhat mercurial approach to foreign policy, particularly in the Syrian arena, and relating to the decision to buy Russian S400 aircraft (BBC News 2019). The decline of news media freedom in Turkey is important to understand because it is an indicator of the declining state of democracy which impacts security policy further afield (Voltmer and Rawnsley 2009). However, the complexity of news media freedom in Turkey precludes easy comprehension: The contemporary authoritarianism of the AKP merely continued the modus operandi of previous administrations, albeit with more vigour. Kemalist authoritarianism manifested itself with coup d’états in 1960, 1971 and 1980 and was done in the name of democracy (Ciddi 2009). Moreover, the Kemalist elite established a clientelist relationship with the news media which did not encourage speaking truth unto power. The AKP maintained this broad approach—but with the roles reversed. Kemalists were now subject to Islamist power rather than the other way around. Kurds have been subject to the repression of both regimes. Hence the reason for the securitisation of news media was to be able to repress free reporting, whilst ostensibly maintaining a democratic veneer, in order to consolidate the power base of firstly the Kemalist elite and then the Islamist government after 2002. By characterising political opposition, and the reporting of it, be it Kurdish, Islamist or Kemalist, as either terrorist, criminal or both, governments in Turkey have justified the suppression of the wider opposition actors and journalism about it (Martin 2018). However, these processes have intensified since the AKP’s split with the Gülen movement in 2013, and especially the 2016 attempted coup, which galvanised the AKP’s determination to consolidate its power base and accelerated the authoritarian drift. Since this time the AKP has treated actors involved in the scrutiny or critique of government policy as

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political opposition. This included the Kurdish political party, the HDP (Halkların Demokratik Partisi—People’s Democratic Party), the Gülen movement and any kind of diligent journalism. In its efforts to control this ever-increasing range of political opposition the AKP has upped the securitisation with an increasingly erratic discursive strategy portraying all forms of opposition as being motivated by an ever more contradictory and illogical terrorist “threat”. The attempted coup d’état in July 2016 enabled the government to introduce state of emergency powers and journalism has subsequently become the primary focus of the securitisation modus operandi whereas previously they had been targeted in order to quell reporting of the primary repression of activism. Hence the securitisation of news is not a new phenomenon and is a pattern which has been repeated by several government iterations. However, it has deteriorated significantly since 2013 becoming even more erratic and widespread since 2016. This chapter will now outline the theoretical aspects of this a­rgument before addressing the methodological issues involved. It requires the application of theories of “journalism” and its place within “liberal democracy”. Turkey’s status as a case sui generis of authoritarianism in the name of democracy is also addressed and the role of securitisation to maintain the facade. Finally, the chapter will outline a theoretical framework encompassing all these aspects before addressing the methodological issues.

Theory Journalism The securitisation of the news media in Turkey is the securitisation of journalism. It is not concerned with the output of the news media per se which has erred towards “infotainment” in many areas of the world (Jebril et al. 2013) but rather the content which aims to speak truth unto power through critique or scrutiny of government policy. Shapiro has argued that “journalism” comprises “… the activities involved in an independent pursuit of accurate information about current or recent events and its original presentation for public edification” (Shapiro 2014, p. 561) and has the following characteristics: • Current or recent events as subject matter. • Breadth of audience.

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• Attempted ascertainment of factual accuracy. • Independence (connoting an arms-length interest in publication itself versus direct benefit from the consequences of what is published). • Original work (as opposed to mere linking or replication). It is the act of providing independent critique of current events to the public so they can make a judgement. In addition, a free news media is plural, with a range of viewpoints available. Thus “journalism”, in its purest form, is part of civil society with the specific role of scrutinising those in charge. Predictably, as Birks (2014, p. 5) points out, “The one point of agreement within the literature on civil society is that there is no agreement on a definition of civil society”. It is highly contested and difficult to pin down but is defined here as social, voluntary and political associations concerned with furthering the principles of human rights and social justice. It most closely adheres to what Kaldor (2003) has labelled the activist model of civil society which builds on the Bürgerliche Gesellschaft concept of Habermas (1969). It involves political participation of “civic-minded or public-spirited” citizens outside of the formal political system (Kaldor 2003, p. 10). As such, civil society, including journalism, sees its raison d’être as raising and/or addressing issues of inequality and injustice. It follows that if the state is being held to account, this becomes ­uncomfortable within an authoritarian society which does not value freedom of expression, association and the rule of law. Indeed, a free news media independent of influence is very much an indicator of (liberal) democracy. For this reason, a free press has come to be seen as a ­western norm. However, there is no consensus on what the western model actually is (Freedman 2009, p. 845) and, not all western “ ­ democracies” have a plural media free from influence as the case of Italy, an EU founder member state, demonstrates (Zielonka 20151). Moreover, “journalism” exists in less liberal democracies and non-democratic states—it is just a riskier existence. Hence seeing journalism as a part of civil society is a reiteration of its ideal as the fourth estate in functioning liberal democracies. In Turkey, such journalism has been squeezed because the space for political

1 In

readings.

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opposition has been barely tolerated since the republic was established. Furthermore, at various times, the news media in Turkey has been an instrument of the state. Nevertheless, it has continued and, it should also be acknowledged that “journalism” does not have to be particularly scrutinising to be seen as a threat in authoritarian spaces such as Turkey, particularly since 2016.

Securitisation Journalism in its pure form, rather than just the output of news media which has often been leveraged by the government of the day, has come to be seen in Turkey as a form of political opposition. As such, journalism has been discursively securitised by the government in order to justify the repression of its practitioners. This has always been the case to come extent (Yesil 2016) but has increased since 2016. As a theory of International Relations, securitisation has come to the fore as part of the post-positivist theoretical wave since the late 1980s. The Copenhagen School approach of Buzan et al. (1998) changed the orthodox, positivist, way of approaching “security” as purely “military” issues and placed it instead within a wider constructivist epistemology or “world of our making” (Onuf 2013). In so doing the definition of what constitutes a security threat widened beyond the purely military or strategic and, crucially, the notion of “security” is a socially constructed concept rather than one which exists a priori. Whilst securitisation theory contributed to this change in how s­ ecurity was conceptualised within IR, parallels can also be made with similar reconceptualisations within wider social theory and Sociology which also moved away from viewing concepts as absolutes and towards the social construction of reality (Balzacq et al. 2016). The evolution of securitisation since Buzan et al. has followed this development in that securitisation has developed variants which accord to the potency of the post-positivist turn. These variants, such as the Paris School and the Aberystwyth School of securitisation represent different “strengths” of the post-positivist approach compared to the “Copenhagen School” of Buzan et al. Hence, securitisation theory is driven by its epistemological presumptions about the nature of reality and its theoretical p ­ resumptions about the significance of power within that reality. The securitisation applied here presumes the wide definition of security and that it is a

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“performative” concept and that it can be used instrumentally. Rather than just asking “what makes something a security issue” (Balzacq et al. 2016, p. 495), it asks why and how it is being made a security issue. In this way it could also be a form of “rhetorical coercion” within the broad Buzan et al. definition of “security” (Krebs and Jackson 2007). In its essence, securitisation argues that security is not a given but is a label which can be designated by an actor with the power to do so. Such designation is a discursive or “speech” act such that “by labelling something a security issue that it becomes one” (Wæver 2000, p. 251). Hence, when something is deemed to present an “existential threat” to a “referent object” it justifies an exceptional response to it. Issues are not inherent security threats but become so “…by virtue of their presentation and acceptance as such…” (Vaughan-Williams and Peoples 2016, p. 5). Furthermore, there is scope for deliberate, instrumental, securitisation and acts of political violence or “terrorism” can be securitised, or desecuritised and resecuritised to suit the interests of the referent object (Martin 2018). In this case the Turkish government or state is the referent object and the existential threats are various political actors including journalists who have been discursively labelled as terrorists. “Discourse” is written, or spoken, communication which can be viewed as a “structured, relational totality”. It is the mutually agreed discursive space by which meaning becomes real and, within it, a discursive strategy can create a “normality” which benefits those in charge of the strategy. Hence, “discourse” is the discursive practice by which zeitgeists are created or boundaries of what is normal or acceptable in a time and/ or space, are set. It is a “multidimensional, multimodal and multifunctional phenomenon” created by the world around it which also influences the world around it (Hart and Cap 2014, p. 4). It follows that those with power within a state, particularly if they have control of the news media, are in a position to dominate the discourse and to designate who is a security “threat”. In weaker democracies the news media can be complicit in this process as a proxy of the state as well as journalism itself being an existential threat.

Authoritarianism When it was first elected, in 2002, the AKP was hailed within Turkey and internationally as a “progressive” influence compared to the “ ­ reactionary” secularists (Kemalists) (Gunther and Yavuz 2007, p. 290). This was

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reinforced by consistent constitutional reform between 2002 and 2004 as “…the EU employed conditionality - holding out the prospect of eventual membership - to encourage domestic political reform” (Kubicek 2013, p. 42). The years leading up to the European Union’s 2004 decision to open negotiations with Ankara saw the most sustained and significant period of liberalising constitutional reform ever in Turkey (Öniş and Yilmaz 2009). However, the pace of liberalising change slowed thereafter (Avci 2011) and reversed direction (Aydın-Düzgit and Kaliber 2016) as the AKP began to secure its power base firstly by successfully placing Abdullah Gül as president in 2007 and finally by transferring power from parliament to an executive presidency by 2017 (Esen and Gümüşçü 2018). This process of power consolidation required increasing illiberalism c­ ategorised in the literature in various ways. For Özbudun, Turkey is a ­“majoritarian conception of democracy, or even an electoral authoritarianism of a more markedly Islamic character” (Özbudun 2014, p. 157). Grigoriadis (2018) concurred with the majoritarian label whereas Öniş has called it a “hybrid” regime “albeit less than stable” (Öniş 2016, p. 141). Other studies have concluded it is now a competitive authoritarian regime (Esen and Gümüşçü 2018; See also Levitsky and Way 2010). It is argued here that this authoritarianism was necessary to consolidate AKP power firstly against the Kemalist establishment, then against political (HDP) and ideological (Gülen) opponents and subsequently against all forms of critique and scrutiny perceived as being a hindrance to this aim (media and civil society). The Ergenekon investigations were the means by which the military—and wider Kemalist establishment— was defanged (Aydinli 2011). Similarly, the KCK investigations were a means of preventing the Kurdish case from gaining devolved power by default (Toktamis 2018). The HDP became a threat after it passed the 10% parliamentary threshold in June 2015 general election thereby gaining enough seats to inhibit the smooth passage of AKP l­egislation to enact the executive presidency. The Gülen movement, which had been complicit in the Ergenekon and KCK operations, became a ­ potential threat following the public split in December 20132 as it had a long institutional memory of previous joint alleged nefarious endeavours. Finally, Cumhuriyet newspaper was targeted when it printed stories linking the AKP to jihadism in Syria. 2 “Erdoğan Turkish strongman under corruption cloud.” Agence France Presse, January 20, 2014.

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It is necessary now to clarify how the securitisation of ­ journalism has evolved within the overall securitisation of political opposition more generally as these are two separate processes. As outlined above, the securitisation of political opposition is part of the ongoing power struggle within Turkish politics between Kemalists, Kurds and Islamists. Within this, journalism was a secondary target up until the arrest of the Cumhuriyet journalist Can Dündar in 2015. Journalists were included in both the Ergenekon and KCK investigations, but they came later and were targeted to prevent reporting of the primary repression against military officers and Kurdish activists. Even after the split with Gülen in 2013, the primary targets were alleged Gülenists within state institutions rather than journalists per se. However, since 2015/16 it has been journalism itself which has been targeted alongside the activists. Hence from this point, journalism is treated as a form of political activism which needs to be rendered ineffective, by the state, and the means by which this was done was securitisation. The discursive strategy of securitisation enabled the Turkish government to ostensibly explain away its repressive policies and maintain the democratic facade. To lock journalists up for doing their job is authoritarian whereas imprisoning “terrorists” is acceptable in liberal democratic circles. Turkey as democracy narrative is deeply embedded in Turkish national discourse because of the long-standing Kemalist Europeanisation democratisation project zealously guarded by the military and the AKP’s underlying claim to a democratic identity through Turkey’s ongoing candidacy of the EU. Therefore, the securitisation is necessary to temper the authoritarianism which has increased since the introduction of e­ mergency powers following the attempted coup in July 2016. The discursive strategy has become increasingly erratic since then as the number of political opponents and the level of illiberality it needs to obscure has increased. This fits with what Yilmaz and Turner’s typology of authoritarianism as a “corruption of liberal democracy” (2019). They argue that the illiberality or authoritarianism in Turkey has been in reaction to events threatening the continuation of the AKP including scrutiny and/or critique from civil society. Toktamis (2019) has gone further to suggest that the Kurdish issue and associated instability since 2015 was provoked in order to justify the securitisation of the HDP and associated activism and journalism.

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Methodology This volume is based primarily on qualitative data collection although a small number of illustrative statistics are used to establish the research question. However, the data analysis is solely qualitative. This is in accordance with the theoretical framework of securitisation outlined above which follows a broad post-positivist interpretivist epistemology. The quantitative sources are used to establish the premise of the research: the notoriety of Turkey as a jailer of journalists and its low position in the global league table for media freedom particularly given its position as an EU candidate state. The research questions of why and how this is the case stem from these illustrative statistics. The author has chosen to use information compiled by the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), for the number of journalists imprisoned, and Reporters Without Borders (RSF) for the media freedom table. There are other figures available, for example Platform 24.3 These draw a very similar conclusion albeit with a different methodology and therefore the author felt it was important not to complicate unnecessarily as the state of media freedom in Turkey is not the issue at hand. The issue is why it is this way and how it has come to be so. The primary data used to answer these questions are the statements of elite actors as reported by international mainstream press and wire services, in English, drawn from the Nexis database of English language sources. Wire services are used specifically because they tend to maintain a permanent reporting presence in Turkey and therefore have more extensive coverage, particularly Agence France Presse. More generally, wire services are used because they provide longer “raw copy” with extensive quotes, rather than the edited versions which appear in newspaper versions, which are often based on the wire services. Whilst the volume uses AFP a lot, it also draws on other wire services as well as BBC Monitoring of Turkish language sources. The data is used for two purposes: Firstly, to verify events which have happened and secondly to gather elite actors’ statements. In addition, the author draws on other primary sources such as reports by institutions—the EU, UN—and civil society groups such as International Crisis Group, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, etc. Often the researchers for these groups are able to gather primary data as effectively as news media sources. The secondary literature is also widely referred to. 3 http://platform24.org/en/media-monitoring.

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Qualitative data analysis is not as clearly delineated as its quantitative counterpart. There is concept stretch and overlap between several qualitative methodologies. The edges of grounded theory, narrative analysis, thematic analysis and discourse analysis are blurred and are very much in the eye of the beholder. However, this study can be defined by what it is—inductive in terms of the findings emerging out of the data rather than having been hypothesised in advance—and what it is not. It is not critical discourse analysis which is closely aligned to the more extreme aspects of post-positivism. Instead it is a middle-of-the-road interpretivist approach to the analysis of detailed qualitative data in order to answer the research questions outlined. The most accurate description of the methodology is thematic analysis (Clarke and Braun 2017). As Bryman (2016, p. 584) highlights, this could also be categorised as qualitative content analysis, discourse analysis or narrative analysis as they all deal in themes. Suffice to say here that the analysis looks for themes and patterns in the data in order to answer the research questions in accordance with a constructivist Copenhagen School approach to the securitisation of journalism.

Conclusion This chapter has established a definition of journalism as i­nformation presented to the public which aspires to speak truth unto power as opposed to mere “infotainment”. As such, journalism is a form of civil society which can flourish most easily in liberal democracies where freedom of speech—and scrutiny—is accepted. Turkey does not have a strong tradition of journalism going back to the foundation of the republic but it does exist and, anyway, the bar for scrutiny has been getting lower during the AKP’s time in office such that very little scrutiny is now tolerated. However, Turkey does have a tradition of aspiration to European identity including “democracy”. This stems firstly from the Kemalist “civilisation” project instigated by Ataturk in the 1920s but also has elements of Turkey’s ongoing candidacy of the EU, which requires adherence to “liberal democracy” in some form to maintain credibility. To maintain the appearance of democracy in some form, Turkey has used the discursive strategy of securitisation as seen in Erdoğan’s retort to questions about the number of its journalists in jail whilst in London

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in May 2018.4 In labelling journalism as “terrorism”, it becomes “acceptable” to imprison journalists. In terms of securitisation t­heory, the state and/or the AKP is the referent object and journalism has become an existential threat which warrants extraordinary measures to deal with it, i.e. imprisonment of practitioners. Hence the volume presumes Turkey has become an a­uthoritarian state within which freedom of expression, and other aspects of liberal democracy, are not tolerated. The literature has been used to show how the authoritarian drift can be traced back to 2007 but first became apparent in press freedom terms in 2011/12. The authoritarian drift accelerated considerably after the split with Gülen in 2013 and declined even further following the 2016 attempted coup leading to an increasingly erratic and illogical securitisation discourse. The volume will now establish the state of news media freedom before the AKP took power before examining the process by which it has deteriorated since. The news media has been securitised both as part of the ongoing power struggle between the three dominant groups—but also in its own right more recently. These two aspects of the issue will be explored in the three cases of the Kemalist “guardian state”, the Kurdish issue and the Gülen movement.

References Avcı, G. (2011). The justice and development party and the EU: Political pragmatism in a changing environment. South European Society and Politics, 16(3), 409–421. Aydın-Düzgit, S., & Kaliber, A. (2016). Encounters with Europe in an era of domestic and international turmoil: Is Turkey a de-Europeanising candidate country? South European Society and Politics, 21(1), 1–14. Aydinli, E. (2011). Ergenekon, new pacts, and the decline of the Turkish “inner state”. Turkish Studies, 12(2), 227–239. Balzacq, T., Léonard, S., & Ruzicka, J. (2016). ‘Securitization’ revisited: Theory and cases. International Relations, 30(4), 494–531. BBC News. (2019, June 13). What Turkey’s S-400 missile deal with Russia means for Nato. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-48620087. 4 The Guardian, Erdoğan ends UK state visit by calling jailed journalists “terrorists”; Turkish president ignores call from Theresa May not to lose sight of defending democracy 15 May 2018. See Channel 4 News, Matt Frei May 16, 2018, https://www.channel4. com/news/Erdoğan-challenged-on-turkey-elections.

22  N. MARTIN Birks, J. (2014). News and civil society: The contested space of civil society in UK media. London: Ashgate. Bryman, A. (2016). Social research methods/Alan Bryman (5th ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Buzan, B., Wæver, O., & Wilde, J. d. (Eds.). (1998). Security: A new framework for analysis. Boulder, CO; London: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Ciddi, S. (Ed.). (2009). Kemalism in Turkish politics: The republican people’s party, secularism and nationalism. London; New York: Routledge. Clarke, V., & Braun, V. (2017). Thematic analysis. The Journal of Positive Psychology, 12(3), 297–298. Esen, B., & Gümüşçü, S. (2018). The perils of ‘Turkish presidentialism’. Review of Middle East Studies, 52(1), 43–53. Freedman, E. (2009). When a democratic revolution isn’t democratic or revolutionary: Press restraints and press freedoms after Kyrgyzstan’s tulip revolution. Journalism, 10(6), 843–861. Grigoriadis, I. (2018). Democratic transition and the rise of populist majoritarianism (1st ed.). London: Palgrave Pivot. Gunter, M. M., & Hakan Yavuz, M. (2007). Turkish paradox: Progressive Islamists versus reactionary secularists. Critique: Critical Middle Eastern Studies, 16(3), 289–301. Habermas, J. (1969). Strukturwandel der öffentlichkeit : Untersuchungen zu einer kategorie der bürgerlichen gesellschaft. Neuwied: Luchterhand. Hart, C., & Cap, P. (Eds.). (2014). Contemporary critical discourse studies. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Jebril, N., Albæk, E., & de Vreese, C. H. (2013). Infotainment, cynicism and democracy: The effects of privatization vs. personalization in the news. European Journal of Communication, 28(2), 105–121. Kaldor, M. (2003). The idea of global civil society. International Affairs, 79(3), 583–593. Krebs, R. R., & Jackson, P. T. (2007). Twisting tongues and twisting arms: The power of political rhetoric. European Journal of International Relations, 13(1), 35–66. Kubicek, P. (2013). Democratization and relations with the EU in the AK party period: Is Turkey really making progress? Insight Turkey, 15(4), 41–49. Levitsky, S., & Way, L. (2010). Competitive authoritarianism: Hybrid regimes after the cold war. New York: Cambridge University Press. Martin, N. (2018). The A.K. party and the Kurds since 2014: A discourse of terror. British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 45(4), 543–558. Martin, N. (2019). From containment to realpolitik and back again: A realist constructivist analysis of Turkey–EU relations and the migration issue. Journal of Common Market Studies, 57(6), 1349–1365.

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Öniş, Z. (2016). Turkey’s two elections: The AKP comes back. Journal of Democracy, 27(2), 141–154. Öniş, Z., & Yilmaz, Ş. (2009). Between Europeanization and Euro-Asianism: Foreign policy activism in Turkey during the AKP era. Turkish Studies, 10(1), 7–24. Onuf, N. G. (2013). Making sense, making worlds: Constructivism in social theory and international relations. New York: Routledge. Özbudun, E. (2014). AKP at the crossroads: Erdoğan’s majoritarian drift. South European Society and Politics, 19(2), 155–167. Shapiro, I. (2014). Why democracies need a functional definition of journalism now more than ever. Journalism Studies, 15(5), 555–565. Toktamis, K. (2018). A peace that wasn’t: Friends, foes, and  contentious ­re-entrenchment of Kurdish politics in Turkey. Turkish Studies, 19(5), 697–722. Toktamis, K. (2019). Now there is, now there is not: The disappearing silent revolution of AKP as re-entrenchment. British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 46(5), 735–751. Vaughan-Williams, N., & Peoples, C. (2016). Critical security studies: An introduction (2nd ed.). London: Routledge. Voltmer, K., & Rawnsley, G. (2009). The media. In C. W. Haerpfer et al. (Eds.), Democratization. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wæver, O. (2000). The EU as a security actor: Reflections from a pessimistic constructivist on post-sovereign security orders. In M. Kelstrup & M. C. Williams (Eds.), International relations theory and the politics of European integration (pp. 250–294). London: Routledge. Yesil, B. (2016). Media in new Turkey: The origins of an authoritarian neoliberal state (1st ed.). Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Yılmaz, Z., & Turner, B. S. (2019). Turkey’s deepening authoritarianism and the fall of electoral democracy. British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 46(5), 691–698. Zielonka, J. (2015). Media and politic in new democracies: Europe in a comparative perspective (1st ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

CHAPTER 3

News Media and the State Pre-AKP

Abstract  This chapter establishes the nature of the news media and its journalism during the decades of Kemalism in Turkey. The illiberality of these governments and the clientelism which developed between the state and the news media owners has meant the journalistic tradition in Turkey is not strong, but it does exist. Moreover, it argues that securitisation of the new media with the aim of discrediting its journalism is not new and is especially relevant with regard to the Kurdish issue since the 1980s. Kurdish journalists have long had to choose between their personal security and doing their jobs as writing about the Kurdish issue was often conflated with support for the PKK. It argues that this approach was written into the constitution following the 1980 coup enabling the state to crackdown on anything deemed to be a threat to the “state”. Keywords  Kemalism

· Coup d’états · News media · Kurdish issue Introduction

Freedom of expression, including “journalism” in Turkey, has been compromised since the beginning of the republic and there is a l­imited tradition of “liberal democracy” (Zakaria 2007). The news media evolved firstly as an arm of the Kemalist state in the 1920s and then as © The Author(s) 2020 N. Martin, The Securitisation of News in Turkey, The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49381-3_3

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an institution dependent on the patronage of governments that f­ollowed. It has also had to ride the wave of Turkey’s political history and its civil– military relations. The 1961 constitution was intended to liberalise affairs, but the good intentions were short-lived against the temptation to make the press beholden to government patronage. The 1982 constitution made no pretence at liberalisation and instead blocked the loopholes introduced by its predecessor to make securitisation of the press much easier. Hence, the repression of journalism is a long-standing issue and the news media has often been complicit in it. In the early 1980s there was no leeway given to those writing about far-left activity or the Kurdish issue. To report anything not in line with state policy was tantamount to opposition and met with constitutionally legitimised oppression. The establishment, Kemalist, media defended the legacy of Ataturk and framed opposition to it as a security issue. This can be seen in reporting of the Kurdish issue from the mid-1980s onwards and the “threat” posed by Islamist politicians. Whilst one was securitised as a risk to the nation state of Turkey, the other was framed as jeopardising the secular orthodoxy of Kemalism. This political and societal structure therefore, created the c­ onditions for the increase in oppression which would follow. It established the patronage culture of the news media in Turkey and the status of a dominant state ideology against which everything else should be judged. It also embedded an authoritarian reaction to political opposition which has continued into the AKP era. Even though the state ideology has changed, there is still an intolerance to scrutiny and criticism of all kinds. The current situation in Turkey is much worse than what went before but the securitisation modus operandi is old news. This chapter will first outline the development of the press and other news media since the late Ottoman times and how it has related to the continued dominance of Kemalism and the military. It will also examine the impact of the neoliberal reforms of Turgut Özal, since the 1980s and how this fed into the ultimate resurgence of an Islamist presence in Turkish society, including the news media. It will conclude by noting that the news media has been both a victim of and complicit in oppression carried out by the Kemalist state.

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The News Media as an Arm of the State Ataturk Years The first newspapers emerged in the nineteenth century and were published by Europeans seeking to exert influence over the fading Ottoman Empire (Kaya and Çakmur 2010). The Ottoman administration then established rival publications, under its own patronage, to counterbalance this effect. Subsequently, journalism was taken up by the Young Turks in their quest to undermine the authoritarianism of the Sultan, Abdel Hamid II. They had some success in the early years of the twentieth century, but progress stopped with the outbreak of World War One (WW1) (Heper and Demirel 1996). Following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire at the end of WW1, the “press” emerged as purveyors of propaganda for the nascent Turkish state. Newspapers were utilised to inform readers what the state was doing for them rather than questioning the policies of it. Indeed, Mustafa Kemal, Ataturk, “prioritised” the print media having recognised the propaganda benefits of doing so (Kurban and Elmas 2011, p. 18). This continued the Ottoman and Young Turk tradition of the press, led by an elite intelligentsia, informing the “people” of the Kemalist idea of what they should know, i.e. the need to emulate secular European traditions and “civilisation”.1 Furthermore, one of Ataturk’s westernising reforms was to change from Arabic to Latin script in writing Turkish. This required significant investment in new equipment which skewed the press landscape leaving publishers reliant on state subsidy to fund new equipment. The state provided financial support to publishers who were forced to change their infrastructure to adjust to the new lettering system. The publishers’ financial dependence to the government created an opening for the monitoring and control of ideas. (Kurban and Elmas 2011, p. 19)

Hence journalists were the information arm of the Turkish state and were “…instrumentalised…. in the name of promoting modernisation in Turkey” (Yilmaz 2016, p. 149). There was no tradition of 1 Ataturk believed Turkey would progress faster if it emulated European traditions and prioritised European culture. This is known as Kemalism which is a highly disputed term. For a discussion of it see Ciddi (2009).

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“speaking truth unto power” on behalf of the people. Instead, “… during this time, the press was used as a political tool, strictly limited to pushing propaganda that aligned with Atatürk’s agenda for Turkish state modernisation” (Lavigne 2019, p. 6). Crucially, the state-controlled press was also involved in criticising dissenting voices. This was ­especially true in the early 1920s when the Kemalist Turkish state was still establishing itself. The situation relaxed a little in the 1930s: under a Press Law of 1931, opposition views were “more or less tolerated by the single party rule…” (Kaya and Çakmur 2010, p. 523). Democracy Years As Dodd suggested, (1990, p. 8) “Ataturk was not ill-disposed towards democracy…” and his successors duly enabled elections after the Second World War. Indeed, “democracy” was so successful in Turkey that the Kemalist party, the Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi, (CHP—Republican People’s Party) was voted out just four years later by the Democrat Party (DP) which had pledged to liberalise the system including recognising the importance of press freedom (Lavigne 2019). However, this progress was short-lived and within a few years the DP government had reversed these reforms—having failed, perhaps, to appreciate the benefits of the scrutinising role played by a “liberal” press when applied to itself (Yilmaz 2016). The Prime Minister, Adnan Menderes, re-tightened legal controls on the press and encouraged a patronage relationship based on the awarding of government contracts (see Hallin and Mancini 2004). Inevitably, this conflict of interest made the media less inclined to scrutinise (Kaya & Çakmur 2010) and patronage2 became engrained into Turkish politics and society: It is associated with the instrumentalisation of public and private media, whereby appointments in public media are made on the basis of political loyalty, whereas private media owners use their media assets and political connections as negotiation tools to obtain government contracts and subsidies. (Yesil 2014, p. 158) 2 This volume follows the definition of Stokes (2011, p. 2) that clientelism implies a hierarchical relationship and the “proffering of material goods in return for electoral support”. Patronage is a subsection of this in which it is “public services” specifically which are offered in return for electoral support and this is most applicable to the case of j­ournalism in Turkey. For a discussion of patronage generally see Mainwaring (1999). For a study of patronage in Turkey more generally see Sayari (2014).

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This reflected the wider political reality that although “democracy” had been introduced, Kemalist authoritarianism remained influential within the state institutions. One-party rule was abolished, and free and fair elections in 1950 allowed for the legislature and executive to change hands. Yet the remaining branches of government, the judiciary, the army and the bureaucracy, defied the democratic shift and continued to reproduce a one-party state ideology under the virtual leadership of the Republican People’s Party. (Öktem 2011, p. 40)

The DP was not only operating within an environment heavily influenced by the ongoing charisma and “westernising” influence of Mustafa Kemal, but it also needed to emulate the authoritarian approach of the Kemalist years to maintain its own position in power. Moreover, this was achieved through patronage politics which cemented the bonds through mutual self-interest (Heper and Keyman 1998). The freedom of the press was a casualty of this reality: as the Menderes government was losing control in the spring of 1960s, it used the army to suppress student ­demonstrations which led to a silent protest by army cadets. Censorship laws meant the press could not report these events—and, ironically, instead covered similar demonstrations in Korea (Zürcher 2004). Military Interventions 1960, 1971 and 1980 The Kemalist military took control from the DP government in the early hours of 27 May 1960 ostensibly to restore order in Istanbul and Ankara following riots. However, the military’s intention was to restore Kemalist doctrine to the government. Adnan Menderes and two government ministers were hanged, and hundreds of others were imprisoned. The new constitution both strengthened (Kemalist) government and the rights of the individual (Dodd 1990, p. 11), including news media freedom. However, this was offset by continued patronage between media owners and the government (Kaya & Çakmur 2010, p. 525). Nevertheless, it remains paradoxical that the 1961 Constitution, which followed the 1960 coup, “…institutionalised the tutelage of the military and the judiciary over elected governments on the one hand, and widened the scope of freedom of expression and association on the other” (Kurban and Elmas 2011, p. 21).

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A general election was held in 1961 in which the CHP won most votes—but only marginally—against the Adelet Partisi (AP—Justice Party, the successor to the DP). The two parties were then obliged, by the military, to form a short-lived coalition government. In the 1965 e­ lection the AP won a majority under the direction of Suleyman Demirel who encouraged a deepening of the government’s relationship with the press and “…patronage politics resurfaced in earnest” (Heper and Keyman 1998, p. 2643). In addition, the Demirel government struggled to contain a political polarisation and violence between far-right nationalists and their far-left opposite numbers. The situation deteriorated such that by March 1971 the Demirel government “…was powerless to act to curb the violence on the campuses and in the streets and it could not hope to get any serious legislation….passed in the assembly…” and the military stepped in again to restore “democracy” (Zürcher 2004, p. 258). Consequently, despite the beginnings of a commercialised ­ popular press in Turkey—as opposed to state-controlled—the influence of the state on the press remained because of its continuing reliance on government patronage. Following the 1971 intervention, an amendment to the liberalising 1961 constitution was passed to end the autonomy of the state broadcaster, TRT.4 This was set up after the 1960 coup to counteract the plethora of pro-DP radio stations which had been established in the late 1950s (Kaya and Çakmur 2010). Ever since, Turkish radio and television have been operating under the direct control of the state as the transmission band of the majority party. Whilst the military handed back control relatively quickly—there were general elections in October 1973 won by the CHP—the security ­situation did not improve. Political polarisation and extremist left–right political violence continued amidst rumours that the nationalist “grey wolves” movement had fascist sympathisers within the police and judiciary (Dodd 1990, p. 263). Coupled with a troubled economic situation this led to the military intervention of September 1980. The loss of law and order was blamed by many people on the liberality of the 1961 constitution. The revised constitution of 1982 therefore set out to clamp down on these privileges and prioritised the stability of the state. Freedom of expression of individuals and the media was the price to be paid for such “security”. 3 Metin Heper & E. Fuat Keyman. (1998). Double‐faced state: political patronage and the consolidation of democracy in Turkey. Middle Eastern Studies, 34(4), 259–277. 4 Türkiye Radyo ve Televizyon Kurumu—Turkish Radio and Television Corporation.

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The legacy of “Kemalism”—the attempt to build a homogeneous, modern society based on secular, Westernising principles and a monoethnic Turkish identity—is manifested in the law either through vague warnings or, conversely, through absolute prohibitions. The preamble of the constitution, for example, threatens that, “No protection shall be given to thoughts or opinions that run counter to Turkish national interests, the fundamental principle of the existence of the indivisibility of the Turkish state and territory, the historical and moral values of Turkishness, or the nationalism, principles, reforms, and modernism of Atatürk, and that as required by the principle of secularism there shall be absolutely no interference of sacred religious feeling in the affairs of state and politics. (Human Rights Watch 1999 Summary)

Thus, journalism had been a casualty firstly of the rowing back of liberalising reforms after the 1960 coup and then of the clampdowns following the 1971 and 1980 events. The emphasis on the integrity of the state clashed inevitably with journalists’ attempts to speak truth unto power. Furthermore, the news media was used, by the state, to create a sense of loyalty to it. The strong message following the chaos of the late 1970s was that it was the duty of citizens not to scrutinise or critique and “…even the most benign form of dissent was prohibited and suppressed. The aim was to create a citizenry which was uncritical, ­non-interfering and ready to sacrifice their individuality in the name of the nation” (Kurban and Elmas 2011, p. 22). The next section will look at the marketisation of the news media as the neoliberalism of Turgut Özal, designed to prevent a repeat of the economic and political chaos of the 1970s, opened up the media market—but did not halt the patronage. Several political and economic factors came together in the 1980s to the detriment of press freedom in Turkey. In common with many other places, in the early 1980s, Turkey’s economic situation was poor amidst global recession, rising oil prices and a moribund, state-centred economy. Its negotiations with the International Monetary Fund obliged it to agree to implement a more market-based, neoliberal economic system in return for debt rescheduling (Celâsun and Rodrik 1989). The coup d’état in September 1980 had been the culmination of continuing economic problems and further political polarisation exacerbated by the neoliberalising of the economy. The generals took control of the government and severely limited freedom of speech, including that of the news media. Hence the practice of journalism became very difficult as any scrutiny was securitised as an attack on the “state”. Moreover, this

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Kemalist emphasis on the state and Turkishness meant the Kurdish issue became highly politicised: pro-Kurdish sentiment was banned along with the Turkish language, further hindering activism—and journalism— about the issue. Left-wing newspapers and journalists were targeted with many prosecuted and convicted following the September intervention. Having announced it would “…exercise control over all publications and communications that take place verbally and in print and audio visually, censor and confiscate newspapers and periodicals, books and other publications and close printing houses”, the generals also forbade the printing of anything that was critical of the military (Yesil 2016, p. 33). Moreover, the 1982 constitution was much less liberal than the 1961 version as this had been blamed for the anarchy of the intervening years. They now had the opportunity to “…reestablish the authority of the state and to restore law and order…” An often repeated and largely shared observation was that the primary objective of the new Constitution was to protect the state from the actions of its citizens, rather than protecting the individual liberties from the encroachments of the state. (Özbudun book 2011, p. 22)

It recognised rights—but then qualified them with reference to the sanctity of the “state”. So, it prioritised the state as paramount over individual freedoms and it prioritised the military, as opposed to civilian politicians, as the institution to rectify the situation (Özbudun, p. 19). It established the right of free speech (Article 25) but added a caveat: “The exercise of these freedoms may be restricted for the purposes of protecting national security, public order and public safety” (Yesil 2016, p. 34). Journalists were working within an authoritarian s­tructure justified on the grounds of national security which restricted their freedom of expression. Additionally, the 1982 constitution restructured the unionisation of the press—reducing its influence considerably. Özal’s Reforms The second seismic change in the Turkish media landscape was in the structure of ownership driven by the wider neoliberalism trend and technological advances in news production. The result was the continuing reliance of the Turkish press on state contracts at the same time as the neoliberalisation and tabloidisation of it. Up until this point,

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broadcasting had been broadly state-controlled whilst the print media was a mixture of state outlets and family-run firms. During the 1980s the private aspect of media plurality shifted from specialist family-run media businesses to news outlets becoming part of a business portfolio of bigger conglomerates whose owners regarded the newspaper business as just another business akin to “a factory or a bank” (Yesil 2016, p. 35). Moreover, if owners had government contracts they were unlikely to jeopardise their business interests through “speaking truth unto power”. Journalism may have been good for their soul but it threatened the bottom line. Kaya and Çakmur (2010) take this a step further and suggest that Turgut Özal instrumentally encouraged big business, as opposed to small business, to take a stake in the Turkish media scene as a means of standardising their output and neutering its political effect. It also created a commercial rivalry between media owners. “The private entrepreneurship encouraged by ANAP’s liberal economic policies was also visible in the media industry, where companies entered into a bitter rivalry to dominate the market” (Kurban and Elmas 2011, p. 23). For although the number of publications and outlets increased, the plurality of ownership did not follow. The marketisation of the media also changed the character: as publishers chased ratings, they tabloidised the ­content moving away from journalists and towards entertainment, lifestyle and political comment—rather than “journalism”. The combination of this conglomeration of media companies and diversification of output sustained the vested interest nature of the politics–media relationship in Turkey during the 1980s and into the 1990s. At the same time, journalists were working within the constraints of the 1982 constitution.

Kemalism and the Securitisation of News The notion of the “guardian” state has developed from the patrician approach of Ataturk and the Kemalists which presumed the state knew what was best for the population—and that that was the Kemalist vision of a secular, Europeanised, society. It has also been noted that the “guardian” state notion contains an element of “incomplete democratic tradition” and the involvement of the elite to restore democracy but not necessarily in a liberal way (Öktem 2011, p. 15). This was a justification for an authoritarian approach to maintaining order but in the name of long-term democratic transition.

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The authoritarianism deemed necessary for this cause was directed at anything not “Turkish” (i.e. Kurdish) or “secular”, i.e. Islamist (­including some Kurds). Likewise, journalism in the sense of speaking truth unto power was not encouraged because it potentially threatened the Kemalist power base. As Corke et al. (2013) have stated: During nearly five decades of military “guardianship” (punctuated by coups in 1960, 1971, and 1980), the Turkish military and their bureaucratic allies enforced a set of red lines restraining discussion of ethnic identity, religion, and history outside the narrow bounds of secular nationalism. (Corke et al. 2013, p. 3)

The Kemalist elite took their role as guardians of Ataturk’s legacy very seriously and this ideology was shared across the elite political class, some of whom were journalists, who acquiesced not to speak too much truth unto power and “knew where the red lines were” often without being told (Yesil 2016, p. 67). Kurdish Issue The Kurdish “issue” in Turkey erupted into violence in 1984 at least partly in reaction to the oppression of military rule following the 1980 intervention. The “guardian state” notion of the Kemalist elite within the military and other state institutions had been galvanised to justify the oppression of any form of pushback against the authority of the state. Power was concentrated in the presidency and the National Security Council to enable them to act quickly to maintain the status quo. More than 120,000 people were arrested in the year after the 1980 coup and two years later, 80,000 remained in prison with around 20 sentenced to death (Dodd 1990, p. 53). The Kurdish areas of Turkey were part of this heavy-handed approach as the military sought to crush Kurdish separatism regarded as a threat to the integrity of the Turkish “guardian” state. Kurdish “activists”, including lawyers and journalists, were imprisoned and torture was commonplace whilst “ordinary” Kurds were also subject to “ ­ widespread oppressive measures” including the outlawing of the Kurdish l­anguage (Gunes 2012, p. 187). Kurdish activism continued however and the cycle of political violence between the state and the PKK came to dominate Turkish politics in the 1990s and beyond. In the first ten years

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of the conflict more than 30,000 people died, three thousand villages were destroyed and three million Kurds were forced to leave their homes (Öktem 2011, pp. 84–88). The news media was ensnared in this context in two primary ways: the mainstream Turkish media was complicit in the securitisation of the Kurdish cause, and journalism about the Kurdish issue, or by Kurdish journalists, was also securitised as “activism” and even “terrorism” and therefore subject to oppressive measures. Within this context, “…the (Turkish) military positioned itself as central to the project of maintaining Turkey’s territorial integrity and national unity and legitimised the national security paradigm with the collaboration of law enforcement, the intelligence community, elected officials and the media” (Yesil 2016, p. 51). The mainstream news media was party to the framing of the Kurdish issue as solely a “terrorist” issue and not questioning the state version of events. This reflected the “banal nationalism” of the state discourse which was trying to homogenise Turkey’s ethnic make-up to make the Turkish “state” stronger (Yumul and Özkirimli 2000). The military would restrict access to eastern Turkey and influence editors to follow their version of events. Such influence was not usually overt but was self-censorship in the knowledge of consequences of doing otherwise. At an individual level this was the threat of prosecution and at a company level it was the loss of lucrative contracts in the wider conglomerate. Journalism by, or about, the Kurdish issue was criminalised and securitised in equal measure using various articles of the 1982 ­constitution and anti-terrorism legislation. Article 28, for example, outlaws “…­anyone who writes any news or articles threatening the internal or external security of the State…” whilst the 1991 anti-terrorism legislation had a very broad definition of what constituted terrorism and “Its provisions are so broad and vague that even an interview with a PKK leader or a quote from him in a news report can be the basis of harsh charges against Kurdish journalists” (Yesil 2016, p. 57). Islamist Issue The mainstream media was also implicated in perpetuating a Kemalist discourse about Islam as a threat to a secular state. Following the restoration of democracy after the 1980 coup, Prime Minister Turgut Özal reintroduced an element of religion into political life in a move known as the “Turkish-Islamic synthesis”. It was hoped this would act

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as a moderating force against extreme right and left political ideology. However, the military’s forbearance of Özal’s moderate religion did not extend as far as the involvement of Necmettin Erbakan’s Refah Partisi (RP—Welfare Party) in a coalition government in the 1990s. This was a step too far and caused “considerable alarm among the Kemalist establishment” ultimately resulting in the postmodern coup of 1997 (Corke et al. 2013, p. 3). Similarly, to the Kurdish issue, the “threat” posed by Erbakan was presented in the mainstream media as a threat to the Turkish state. Erbakan was proposing a series of measures to relax the strict secularism of Kemalism including allowing women to wear the headscarf in universities and the civil service. In defending the Kemalist orthodoxy, “mainstream outlets not only refrained from criticising the military’s involvement in politics, but they actively supported it” (Yesil 2016, p. 63). This led to the military’s “ultimatum” to Erbakan on 28 February 1997 that he p ­ ublicly pledge to safeguard secular principles and backtrack on the offending policies. He did so but was politically weakened by it and was out of office within six months. His party was prosecuted for anti-secular activities and closed in January 1998. This so-called “postmodern” coup by the military—because no actual intervention was necessary—was very effective at curtailing the influence of Islam in political life. However, this was not the only form of Islamism perturbing the Kemalist elite, including the media, in the late 1990s. They were also concerned about the infiltration of key positions in the police, judiciary and civil service by followers of Fethullah Gülen, a charismatic Imam who had built an influential network of schools and universities alongside a loose-knit but linked series of businesses affiliated to him and his liberal Islamist philosophy based on the teaching of Said Nursi. A tape emerged in the news media in which Gülen encouraged followers not to challenge the (secular) state electorally but instead to “move in the arteries of the system without anyone noticing your existence until you reach all the centers of power” (Sharon-Krespin 2009, p. 61). Whilst ostensibly, Necmettin Erbakan and Fethullah Gülen were working towards similar aims—both wanted to restore a place for Islamic faith within Turkish society and politics, they had very different modus operandi. Erbakan had tried to win power the conventional way, at the ballot box. However, Fethullah Gülen’s objective was to establish a network of high-quality schools and universities from which ultra-loyal

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and highly qualified graduates would infiltrate the state apparatus.5 In the mid-late 1990s, the Kemalist military was becoming concerned that it was included in this infiltration plan. This ­well-connected n ­ etwork had the economic power of the sympathetic business community behind it—including several Gülen-affiliated media outlets—which had prospered in the neoliberalism of the 1980s. In 1999, Gülen left Turkey because of the threat of prosecution and set up his headquarters in Pennsylvania in the USA (Reynolds 2018). The crackdown on the Gülen movement did not involve his news media outlets at that stage. Securitisation in the late 1990s in terms of journalism was primarily aimed at the mainstream Refah Partisi ­narrative (and the Kurds). However, when he resettled in Pennsylvania, Gülen left behind a network of followers which included media owners and journalists in Turkey who would start to become influential after the election of the AKP in 2002. The Gülen movement had laid the foundations of, what Watmough and Öztürk have labelled, a “transnational parapolitical network” (2018) and the media outlets played a s­ignificant part. Just as the mainstream media played a role in securitising the Kurdish issue, the Gülenist media was about to become part of the new mainstream, under the AKP government, and would play a similar role.

Conclusion The news media evolved in Turkey as a tool of the Kemalist state and continued along this path. The domination of Kemalism on the state institutions and the development of a strong patronage r­elationship between the media and government reinforced the tendency for “journalism” to be a de facto arm of the state—rather than a s­crutiniser of it. This chapter has examined how Kemalism established itself as a dominant philosophy during Ataturk’s life and continued to be highly influential after his death and after the introduction of elections reinforced by the mutually dependent relationship of those involved. The relatively liberal constitution of 1961 should have reinforced the freedom of the press but was overtaken by the deteriorating security (and economic) situation in Turkey. This justified a de-liberalising approach to press freedom which was also constrained by the ongoing patronage. The 1982 Constitution then cemented a repressive approach 5 See

Chapter 6.

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back into law and prioritised the interests of the state over those of the individual—or a hypothetical press working on behalf of the “people”. The justification for this policy was always securitised and journalism continued to be a casualty of this into the 1990s. Other changes instigated by the Özal government following the 1980 coup d’état also affected the news media in the 1980s and 1990s. The Turkish-Islamic synthesis policy and the neoliberalisation of the Turkish economy enabled Islamists to establish a power base in mainstream politics (Erbakan) and as a soft power political actor (Gülen). The latter was able to use this opportunity to also build a network of a­ ffiliates in the news media. However, at this time the dominant state ­philosophy remained Kemalism and throughout the 1990s the mainstream media was complicit in framing the Kurdish issue and the Islamist issue as threats to the integrity of the Turkish state. Hence, whilst the press was not “free”, the repression was primarily by implication and influence except in the case of securitised threats to the state. During the 1980 coup this was leftist extremists (less so than far right) and thereafter the primary targets were Kurdish. Hence there was no established tradition of speaking truth unto power—and this was not encouraged—but the authoritarian repression was reserved for those presenting a securitised “threat” of varying credibility. The role of the press as a speaker of truth unto power has been compromised by its long-standing commitment to Kemalism and the financial relationships between press owners and the government. This began in the 1950s and was consolidated in the neoliberalism of the 1980s. In addition, the security situation in Turkey at various times has been instrumentalised to justify hardline repression of journalists reporting on it—and the state’s reaction to it. So, before the AKP came to power, the Turkish news media was compromised in two ways. Firstly, it was a part of a state-centric culture bolstered by the financial interests of many media owners and their dependence on state contracts. This meant the mainstream media was often complicit in the framing of opposition to the government as security issues. Secondly, journalists who deigned to speak truth unto power were themselves securitised by the government, and by implication the mainstream media. This was the case in the 1990s with reference to left–right violence, the Kurdish issue and the success of the Refah Partisi. Journalism was seen as a form of political opposition which was then curbed through securitisation albeit at a low level compared to what was to follow.

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References Celâsun, M., & Rodrik, D. (1989). External borrowing, real wage flexibility, and equilibrium exchange rates: A general equilibrium analysis. In J. D. Sachs & S. M. Collins (Eds.), Developing country debt and economic performance, volume 3: Country studies—Indonesia, Korea, Philippines, Turkey (1st ed., pp. 701–715). Chicago: National Bureau of Economic Research, University of Chicago Press. Ciddi, S. (2009). Kemalism in Turkish politics, The Republican People’s Party, secularism and nationalism. London: Routledge. Corke, S., Finkel, A., Kramer, D. J., Robbins, C. A., & Schenkkan, N. (2013). Democracy in crisis: Corruption, media, and power in Turkey (Special Report). Freedom House. https://freedomhouse.org/sites/default/files/Turkey%20 Report%20-%202-3-14.pdf. Dodd, C. H. (1990). The crisis of Turkish democracy (enlarged 2nd ed.). Huntingdon: Eothen Press. Gunes, C. (2012). The Kurdish national movement in Turkey: From protest to resistance. London, New York: Routledge. Hallin, D. C., & Mancini, P. (Eds.). (2004). Comparing media systems: Three models of media and politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heper, M., & Demirel, T. (1996). The press and the consolidation of democracy in Turkey. Middle Eastern Studies, 32(2), 109–123. Heper, M., & Keyman, E. F. (1998). Double-faced state: Political patronage and the consolidation of democracy in Turkey. Middle Eastern Studies, 34(4), 259–277. Human Rights Watch. (1999). Violations of free expression in Turkey. New York: HRW. https://www.hrw.org/reports/1999/turkey/index.htm. Kaya, R., & Çakmur, B. (2010). Politics and the mass media in Turkey. Turkish Studies, 11(4), 521–537. Kurban, D., & Elmas, E. (2011). Communicating democracy—Democratizing communication: Media in Turkey: Legislation, policies, actors (Media Studies Series No. 1). Istanbul: TESEV. https://opus4.kobv.de/opus4-hsog/frontdoor/deliver/index/docId/1753/file/Communicating+democracy.pdf. Lavigne, R. (2019). The end of opposition: The AKP’s ten-year war on press freedom in Turkey. Journal of Islamic and Near Eastern Law, 17(1), 1–29. Mainwaring, S. P. (1999). Rethinking party systems in the third wave of democratization: The case of Brazil. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Öktem, K. (2011). Turkey since 1989: Angry nation. London: Zed. Özbudun, E. (2011). The constitutional system of Turkey (1st ed.). New York: Palgrave Macmillan US. Reynolds, M. (2018). “Woe to him, for how he schemed”: Fethullah Gülen, the U.S. and the damaging of Turkish democracy. In M. H. Yavuz & B. Balci

40  N. MARTIN (Eds.), Turkey’s July 15th coup: What happened and why (1st ed., pp. 98–129). Utah: University of Utah Press. Sayari, S. (2014). Interdisciplinary approaches to political clientelism and patronage in Turkey. Turkish Studies, 15(4), 655–670. Sharon-Krespin, R. (2009). Fethullah Gülen’s grand ambition Turkey’s Islamist danger. Middle East Quarterly, Winter, 55–66. https://www.meforum. org/2045/fethullah-gulens-grand-ambition. Stokes, S. (2011). Political clientelism. In R. E. Goodin (Ed.), The Oxford handbook of political science. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://doi. org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199604456.013.0031. Watmough, S. P., & Öztürk, A. E. (2018). From ‘diaspora by design’ to transnational political exile: The Gülen movement in transition. Politics Religion and Ideology, 19(1), 33–52. Yesil, B. (2014). Press censorship in Turkey: Networks of state power, commercial pressures, and self-censorship. Communication, Culture & Critique, 7(2), 154–173. Yesil, B. (2016). Media in new Turkey: The origins of an authoritarian neoliberal state (1st ed.). Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Yılmaz, G. (2016). Europeanisation or de-Europeanisation? Media freedom in Turkey (1999–2015). South European Society and Politics, 21(1), 147–161. Yumul, A., & Özkirimli, U. (2000). Reproducing the nation: `banal nationalism’ in the Turkish press. Media, Culture and Society, 22(6), 787–804. Zakaria, F. (2007). The future of freedom: Illiberal democracy at home and abroad (1st ed.). New York: W. W. Norton. Zürcher, E. J. (2004). Turkey: A modern history (3rd ed.). London: I.B. Tauris.

CHAPTER 4

The AKP and the Kemalist News Media

Abstract  The chapter examines the contemporary situation r­egarding news media freedom in Turkey and how it relates to the AKP’s relationship with the Kemalist establishment. It argues that, once the AKP acquired power in 2002, and won a second term in 2007, it set about trying to “defang” the military through the Ergenekon (ETÖ) investigations (with the help of allies, the Gülen movement). The military were the primary target, although several senior journalists were included and many more were persecuted, if not prosecuted, for reporting the main Ergenekon trials. However, whilst most ­ journalists caught up in Ergenekon were there as an afterthought, this had changed by 2015, when Cumhuriyet was under the AKP spotlight. At this time, the intention was to stymie journalism about AKP policy (such as its alleged links to jihadism in Syria) which could damage the AKP’s electoral prospects and continuing consolidation of power. Journalism therefore had moved from being a secondary target to a primary one alongside increasing authoritarianism. Keywords  Ergenekon Authoritarianism

· ETÖ · Gülen · Syria · AKP ·

© The Author(s) 2020 N. Martin, The Securitisation of News in Turkey, The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49381-3_4

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Introduction This chapter will look at the place of the news media within the relationship of the AKP government and the Kemalist elite and how this has contributed to the securitisation of news overall and the high numbers of journalists in prison in Turkey. It will argue that the journalists jailed under the Ergenekon investigations were relatively few— compared to the investigation overall—and should be seen as ­secondary targets. In other words, they were not the primary objective of the operation which was more intent on reducing the ability of the military to stymie AKP policies going forward. This was the result of previous military interventions and in particular the 1997 “postmodern coup” which had finished the career of Necmettin Erbakan. Whilst the AKP and the military had reached an understanding during the party’s first term in office there were considerable underlying tensions which came to a head in 2007 with the presidential elections and attempts to close the AKP down in early 2008. The AKP was able to resist the Kemalist pressure but Ergenekon was the way to ensure it never happened again. The inclusion of journalists within its clutches was primarily about quelling the reporting of the wider illiberality—rather than an assault on journalism per se. However, by 2015/16 this situation had changed because of the increasingly frenetic need of the AKP to hold onto power particularly after the split with Gülen. By this time the imprisonment of journalists was about quashing the speaking of truth unto power. Cumhuriyet was not the only Kemalist outlet in focus but it was the primary one given its iconic status within Turkey. It was firstly criminalised following the publication of claims linking the AKP to Syrian jihadists and later the paper as a whole—and its employees—were securitised as part of a generic terrorist threat linked to Gülen and “FETÖ”. Hence whilst Ergenekon was carefully targeted and part of a plan to neuter Kemalist military influence—which later widened to include journalism—the 2015/16 campaign against Cumhuriyet, which included an assassination attempt on Can Dündar, was about stopping the dissemination of any material which might adversely affect the AKP’s electoral performance. Securitisation was necessary in order to explain why so many journalists were being targeted against the usual conventions of liberal international norms.

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This chapter will outline how Kemalist related journalism moved from being a secondary to a primary target as the AKP itself drifted towards authoritarianism in its efforts to establish an executive presidency. Crucially, the chapter will also explore the role of the Gülen movement in this process as an AKP colluder on Ergenekon but fellow victim of persecution a decade later. It is ironic that the Gülen movement has been subject to very similar securitisation tactics (FETÖ) as they perpetrated against the Kemalist elite (ETÖ).

The AKP and the Kemalists 2002–2007 The AKP’s relationship with the Kemalist elite, and especially the military, was tetchy during its first term in office. The military was concerned about its own power base and, what they believed to be, the creeping Islamism of the AKP and liberalisation of attitudes towards Kurdish rights. Not only did the AKP have enough parliamentary seats to form a single-party government—rather than a weaker coalition—but it was liberalising attitudes to the Kurds in line with the requirements of the EU accession process. Another factor in the military’s disquiet was the AKP’s lukewarm attitude to the Iraq War which the military, as stalwarts of NATO, felt keenly (Martin 2015a, pp. 93–94). This combination of factors led to an uneasy truce in the underlying power struggle between the AKP and the military in the years after the new party came to power in November 2002. The so-called headscarf issue was a major concern to the military. Under the Kemalist doctrine, women were not able to wear a hijab in public institutions including universities and the civil service. This had ruled out many observant women from these educational or career paths. In January 2003, the AKP proposed to change the law but was pressurised by the military and withdrew the plans.1 The military also boycotted an event where the headscarf was being worn by wives of AKP MPs2 and, conversely, many AKP MPs refused to attend a presidential 1 Agence France Presse, 16 January 2003, Turkish MPs drop plan to pardon veiled university students. 2 Agence France Presse, 23 April 2003, Turkey’s secular elite clash with government on Islamic-style headscarves.

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reception to mark 80 years of the Turkish Republic because headscarves were not allowed.3 President Necdet Sezer, a Kemalist, also vetoed legislation which would have liberalised rules surrounding the state-run vocational religious, Imam-Hatip, schools in 2004. The legislation would have eased the path of religious graduates into state institutions but was blocked by Sezer on the grounds it would have had “… an adverse impact on the conscience of the society”.4 There were also attempts to criminalise adultery5 and restrict the sale of alcohol6 which concerned the Kemalist elite. With regard to Kurdish language reforms, the military was c­ oncerned they would encourage Kurdish groups and be “…harmful to the country’s security”.7 This was a reflection of how deeply the PKK insurgency in the east of the country had become engrained into the Kemalist psyche as a “threat” to the state (Barrinha 2011). However, these were reforms required by the EU Copenhagen criteria, and the military was in favour of EU accession, so it found itself stymied by these conflicting priorities. The wider influence of the Kemalist elite, including the military, was waning and the military were also aware that their usual method of reigning in elected politicians who deviated from the Kemalist path—coup d’états—was off-limits as Turkey’s EU accession process would have been suspended if there was any inkling of a military interference in the AKP government. Additionally, the AKP was seen in the EU member state capitals as exemplifying democratic liberalism compared to their Kemalist predecessors (Martin 2015b) and an example of “good Islam” compared to the “bad” Islam of Al Qaeda and others after 9/11 (Mamdani 2002). The lauded status of the AKP by EU member states and Brussels’ officials further put the military at a domestic disadvantage. For all these reasons, the Chief of the General Staff, General Hilmi Özkök (who had been appointed in August 2002), took a more cautious approach to 3 Agence France Presse, 29 October 2003, Islamic headscarf row overshadows Turkey’s 80th birthday. 4 Agence France Presse, 29 May 2004, Turkish president vetoes controversial bill on religious schools. 5 Agence France Presse, 31 August 2004, Turkish parliament to discuss outlawing adultery. 6 Agence France Presse, 12 December 2005, Turkish lawyers challenge alcohol restrictions. 7 Agence France Presse, 26 June 2003, Turkish leaders vow to push ahead with reforms.

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the AKP government than might have been expected as the military’s “…options were limited if the (AKP) refused to take (Özkök’s) advice” (Jenkins 2011, p. 2). Similarly, the AKP, at that time, was prepared to back down rather than provoke a confrontation (as with the adultery and alcohol proposals already outlined). 2007—The “E-Coup” and the Closure Case However, the restraint of the AKP’s first term in office had begun to wear thin by 2007. The calming influence of the EU accession process had receded as the AKP realised its chances of being accepted in Brussels were diminishing as the EU’s political constellation changed. The departure of allies, Gerhard Schröder and Jacques Chirac, and the arrival of the more sceptical Nicholas Sarkozy and Angela Merkel meant the political risks Ankara was taking to meet the Copenhagen criteria were no longer domestically worthwhile. Additionally, the restrained General Hilmi Özkök had been replaced as the military chief in August 2006 by General Yaşar Büyükanıt who took a more “hawkish” line than his predecessor.8 As the presidential term of the Kemalist Necdet Sezer ended in April 2007, the AKP government wanted to place a loyalist in the top job as “neutral” head of state. The first choice was Erdoğan himself but when it became clear this was out of the question, his associate, Abdullah Gül, was nominated. A first round of voting in parliament was inconclusive—but the military was concerned. General Büyükanıt sanctioned a statement to be posted online which made it clear the military would intervene if the presidential election in parliament went to a second round: The problem that recently came to the forefront of the presidential election process has focused on the issue of questioning secularism. The Turkish armed forces are observing this situation with concern… It should not be forgotten that the Turkish armed forces are a party to this debate and staunch defenders of secularism. The Turkish armed forces… will openly and clearly display their position and attitude when necessary. No one should doubt this.9 8 Associated Press, 1 August 2006, Turkey appoints general considered hard-liner as new head of military. 9 Agence France Press, 27 April 2007, Harsh army warning over secularism hits Turkish presidential vote.

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Erdoğan called the military’s bluff and brought forward a due general election from November to July. The vote was “…in a sense a­sking the society to judge its performance and the military’s intervention discourse” (Aydinli 2011, p. 230). The AKP won with 47% of the vote10 and Gül was elected president by the parliament in August 2007. The government saw the result as vindication of its policies, justified by “democracy”, and a weakening of the Kemalist elite. However, the Kemalists retained some residual influence within the state institutions. In March 2008 the chief state prosecutor, Abdurrahman Yalcinkaya, made a rearguard action of indicting the AKP for “anti-secular” activities because of its support for the wearing of headscarves on university campuses. The intention was to close the AKP and ban its politicians from public life on the grounds that it was “a home for activities that violate secularism”.11 However, in the sign that the Kemalist elite had been weakened the year before, the judges stepped back from the brink and gave the AKP a get-out clause. Only six of 11 judges voted to close the party— one short of the seven required—opting instead to cut the AKP’s state funding saying: “I hope the party in question will evaluate this outcome very well and get the message it should get”.12 In the event, Erdoğan dismissed the closure case as anti-democratic and “against the will of the nation”. He also warned of “consequences of this irresponsible recourse” for “those responsible for such shame and injustice”.13 Jenkins (2009) has suggested the Ergenekon investigations were then used instrumentally in reaction to the closure case—to silence those still intent on imposing secularism on Turkey once and for all.

The Kemalist News Media as a Secondary Target: Ergenekon What Is Ergenekon? To far-right nationalists in Turkey, “Ergenekon” is part of the myth of Turkic peoples in Central Asia overcoming adversity with the help of a grey she-wolf who led them to safety from “Ergenekon Valley”. 10 Associated

Press International, 23 July 2007, Turkey’s ruling party wins election. France Presse, 14 March 2008, Turkish prosecutors seek to ban ruling party. 12 Agence France Press, 30 July 2007, Turkey’s ruling party escapes ban, gets sanctions. 13 Agence France Presse, 15 March 2008, Turkey’s ruling party hits back at bid to ban it. 11 Agence

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This notion of national pride and true grit was then used by Ataturk in the early years of the republic “to create a nation state in which national consciousness rather than religion served as the primary determinant of identity…” (Jenkins 2009, p. 44). In addition to this ultranationalist discourse, Ergenekon re-emerged in the 1990s following the Susurluk incident in 1997 when it became the term used to describe a “derin devlet” (deep state) network of extreme secularists with connections to serious organised crime networks (Kaptan 2016). In the early 2000s Ergenekon was sporadically referred to either as a secularist network— by the Kemalist press—or as a Kemalist network intent on combatting Islamism—by the Gülen-owned press (Balci 2010, p. 80). The use of the term re-emerged briefly in 2006 following a shooting in a court in Ankara in which a senior judge died and four others were injured. The gunman, Alpaslan Aslan shouted “We are the emissaries, the soldiers of Allah” as he fired.14 This produced claims that “Ergenekon” was responsible for the attack as a false flag operation to discredit the AKP government. It initiated two Ergenekon narratives in the Turkish press portraying it both as an ultra-Kemalist deep state network with criminal connections and as a more formal secularist network, trying to maintain the Kemalist orthodoxy against the AKP government (Balci 2010, p. 83). It has also been claimed that the secrecy of Ergenekon is a legacy of the Committee of Union of Progress movement in the latter days of the Ottoman Empire (Kaya 2009) whilst another Ergenekon myth is that it is the result of Kemalist domination of so-called covert “Gladio” networks established by the CIA during the early years of the Cold War in all NATO member states as sleeper resistance cells in case of a Soviet invasion (Jenkins 2009; Jacoby 2010). Hence, the term Ergenekon has had various uses revolving around ­far-right nationalist, Kemalist, deep state discourse in Turkish politics. What is meant by “Ergenekon” here specifically, is the ongoing police investigation into an alleged plot by a network with that label to overthrow the AKP government. Whilst the investigation was launched in 2007 the first signs of it can be seen soon after the court shootings the year before. Ten men, including soldiers, were arrested in Ankara in June 2006 and charged with “colluding to attempt to prevent the government

14 Agence France Presse, 16 May 2006, Suspected Islamist gunman kills Turkish judge in court shooting.

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from carrying out its duties and illegally possessing explosives”.15 The investigation was not called Ergenekon at this stage but followed a similar pattern. In June 2007 police found “guns, explosives, hand grenades and incriminating documents” at a flat in Istanbul linked to the military and more arrests followed.16 Further arrests and prosecutions were made over the next two years with the apparent aim of stopping the Ergenekon network, consisting of Kemalist sympathisers, from “unseating the AKP government by provoking a military coup” (Yesil 2016, p. 95). The arrests usually came after stories appeared in the news magazine Taraf, based on leaked documents implicating the military and others in the conspiracy. Taraf was established in late 2007 and was allied to the Gülen movement. Another Gülenist outlet, Zaman, was also involved in publishing a “steady stream of stories and op-eds championing the (Ergenekon) trials as steps towards democratisation and stigmatising anyone who questioned the evidence as ­ pro-military and undemocratic” (Yesil 2016, p. 98). Up to June 2008 around 50 people had been detained. A significant wave of arrests occurred in the early hours of 1 July 2008—the same day as the Supreme Court was considering the closure case against the AKP. Twenty-one people were detained including senior generals, Hurşit Tolon and Şener Eruygur, Cumhuriyet journalist, Mustafa Balbay17 and the head of the Ankara Chamber of Trade.18 The first Ergenekon indictment, lodged in July 2008, had 2455 pages and included allegations of creating an “armed terrorist organisation” and provoking an uprising.19 The trial of 86 people started in October 2008 and they were charged with trying to undermine the government by creating the chaos and insecurity necessary to justify a military intervention. It was alleged Ergenekon was responsible for several “terrorist” incidents previously blamed on Islamists including the Ankara courtroom shooting and attacks with hand grenades on the offices of Cumhuriyet

15 Agence France Presse, 13 July 2006, Turkish army officers, policemen accused of anti-government plot. 16 Agence France Presse, 16 June 2007, Three arrested in Turkey over ammunition cache. 17 Cumhuriyet is a staunchly Kemalist broadsheet newspaper. 18 Agence France Presse, 1 July 2008, Ex-generals, journalists detained in Turkish probe: Report. 19 Agence France Presse, 14 July 2008, Turkish prosecutor charges 86 over alleged coup plot.

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(whose journalists were in the dock) in early 2007. A second trial—with a 1900-page indictment and 56 defendants—began in July 2009 and a third cohort of 52 began in August 2009. The charge sheets included belonging to a terrorist organisation and possession of weapons and firearms as well as the conspiracy to murder. The arrests of high-profile journalists alleged to be a part of the Ergenekon network were in two main waves. Several were detained between 2007 and 2008 in the early days of the investigation. These were primarily senior employees of publications which would be seen as Kemalist. A second batch were affected in 2011. These were employees of OdaTV, an online platform, who were charged with being members of Ergenekon and the reporters, Ahmet Şık and Nedem Şener who had both written critically about the investigation and the AKP government in general. Şık—who had previously been an outspoken critic of military authoritarianism—was arrested in 2011 just as he was about to publish a book about Gülenist activities whilst Şener had been investigating the murder of the journalist Hrant Dink in 2007.20 All the above were charged with terrorism-related offences. Journalists were arrested on direct terrorism-related offences in relatively small numbers, compared to the military, but many more were prosecuted for offences relating to the reporting of the Ergenekon trials, which began in 2009. This cohort were not jailed and so do not appear in the CPJ figures. Exact figures are very hard to establish given the nature of the charges and the political situation in which they sit but around 4000 journalists were investigated for breaches of the confidentiality of investigations or attempts to influence a fair trial (Articles 285 and 288 of the Turkish Criminal Code), following their reporting on the Ergenekon case” (European Commission 2010, note 17). The scale of these related charges had a significant deterrent effect on rigorous reporting of either the trials or wider government policy and led to widespread ­self-censorship (Yesil 2016). When the Ergenekon investigations had begun, in 2006/7, the allegations seemed feasible, based on previous behaviour by the military, and were accepted prima facie. However, as the investigations widened to include mainstream (Kemalist) journalists and academics they

20 Agence France Presse, 19 January 2007, Prominent Turkish-Armenian journalist shot dead in Istanbul.

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gradually lost credibility. As early as 2008 critical voices were being heard. Referring to the AKP closure case, the investigative journalist Belma Akçura said: “I get the feeling the government is using Ergenekon as a card in its own fight for life – ‘take me down, and I’ll take you down too’”.21 There were also concerns about the contradictory nature of some of the evidence: According to the public prosecutors handling the case, Ergenekon is a vast organisation which has penetrated virtually every aspect of Turkish life and is committed to destabilising and eventually overthrowing the government of the Islamic conservative Justice and Development Party (AKP). They maintain that, in addition to carrying out terrorist attacks in its own right, Ergenekon is involved in extortion and narcotics ­trafficking and effectively controls not only the Turkish underworld but virtually every militant group that has committed an act of violence in Turkey over the last 20 years – from the Kurdish separatist Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) through the Marxist Revolutionary People’s Liberation Party – Front (DHKP-C) to numerous violent Islamist groups and organizations. (Jenkins 2009, p. 9)

Concern deepened further in early 2010 as the Ergenekon investigation extended into the Balyoz22 allegations of a (separate) plot by the military to run a series of false flag attacks on mosques, and i­ntensify disputes with Greece in the Aegean, in order to create civil unrest and discredit the AKP government enough to reinstate martial law.23 The allegations were first aired in January 2010 in, predictably, Taraf news magazine which had anonymously received a suitcase of ­incriminating evidence of the plot allegedly drawn up in the early months of the AKP government. More than 40 suspects, mainly military, were arrested in February on charges of “attempting to remove the g ­overnment through force and violence”. They included the senior g ­ enerals, Özden Örnek, İbrahim Fırtına and Cetin Doğan. By July 2010, 196 people had been charged with Balyoz offences and the trial began in

21 Eurasianet News Agency, 2 July 2008, Turkey: Arrests, court case reveal that Turkey is dangerously polarized. 22 Balyoz is also known by the English translation of “Sledgehammer”. 23 Other Ergenekon associated plots include Kafes (Cage) Sarıkız (Blonde Girl), Ayışığı (Moonlight), Yakamoz (Sea Sparkle) and Eldiven (Glove).

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December 2010.24 Arrests continued and the trial lasted two years with around 300 military officers convicted and given sentences of between ten and twenty years.25 Whilst the Ergenekon, and associated, investigations were accepted at face value in the beginning, they were starting to lose credibility by 2010/11. Ergenekon had been undermined when it extended beyond the military into journalism, academia and business. Those accused appeared “…to have been guilty of nothing more than opposition to the AKP” (Jenkins 2009, p. 10). Balyoz hastened the questioning of the allegations against the military as well. In May 2010 the Harvard economist, Professor Dani Rodrik, and his wife Pinar Doğan26 alleged some of the evidence in the Balyoz investigation (and by implication Ergenekon) was faked. According to Doğan and Rodrik the “evidence” ranged from the flimsy to the fabricated and: Given the scope of the deception, we have come reluctantly to the conclusion that the government is at a minimum complicit in the massive perversion of justice that is taking place in the name of democratisation. These fabricated cases target the government’s opponents, benefit the Islamist groups, and would have been difficult to mount without the cooperation and participation of the Justice and Development Party (AKP) and its supporters.27

Nevertheless, the investigations, arrests and trials continued and the Ergenekon trials finished in August 2013. Of 275 defendants, around 10% were acquitted, many received lengthy sentences of up to 20 years and several received life sentences, including General Ilker Başbuğ, a former Chief of the General Staff.28 The Cumhuriyet journalist, Mustafa

24 Agence

France Presse, 16 December 2010, Landmark coup trial opens in Turkey. France Presse, 21 September 2012, Three ex-generals jailed for 20 years in Turkey coup trial. 26 Pinar Doğan is the daughter of a Balyoz defendant General Cetin Doğan. 27 Pinar Doğan and Dani Rodrik, New Republic, 24 May 2010, Turkey’s Other Dirty War. http://drodrik.scholar.harvard.edu/files/dani-rodrik/files/turkeys-other-dirty-war.pdf. See also Dani Rodrik’s blog “What is going on in Turkey?” 23 May 2010. https://rodrik.typepad. com/dani_rodriks_weblog/2010/05/what-is-going-on-in-turkey.html. 28 Agence France Presse, 5 August 2013, Turkey court sentences ex-army chief to life in mass coup trial. 25 Agence

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Balbay, was sentenced to 34 years. As Jenkins (2013) has said, the convictions were not a surprise, but the length of the sentences were, especially given the dubious nature of some of the evidence. Role of Gülen in Ergenekon Investigations Whilst the Doğan/Rodrik allegations did not spark significant interest, suggestions of irregularities in Ergenekon and Balyoz, involving the Gülen movement, resurfaced in books by a former police officer, Hanefi Avcı, in 2010 and the journalist Ahmet Şık in 2011.29 Both alleged the corrupt complicity of Gülenist police officers and prosecutors in the preparation of fabricated “evidence”. Ironically, both Şık and Avcı were then accused of being a part of Ergenekon despite Şık having been an ardent critic of the military and Avcı having been allied with the Gülen movement before becoming disillusioned with it.30 However, serious credulity about the investigations only emerged after the AKP and the Gülen movement fell into bitter public dispute in December 2013.31 The AKP then began to blame the Gülen movement for Ergenekon’s procedural irregularities: many Ergenekon defendants were released from prison soon after32 and the Balyoz defendants were acquitted in March 2015 after a retrial.33 The underlying dynamics of the Gülen/AKP relationship are the subject of Chapter 6, however this section will examine the role played by the Gülen movement in the Ergenekon and other trials and the implications thereof for press freedom. According to Ahmet Şık, an Ergenekon network existed in some form pre-AKP and as Jenkins (2009) has outlined, it seems likely it was

29 Hanefi Avcı’s book is called Haliç’te Yaşayan Simonlar: Dün Devlet Bugün Cemaat (Yesterday a state: Today a community) and Ahmet Şık’s is İmamın Ordusu (The Imam’s Army). 30 Avcı, who had previously been a Gülen sympathiser, was subsequently charged with connections to a far-left terrorist group and with being part of the Ergenekon network (Jenkins 2014). 31 Financial Times, 18 December 2013, Turkey transfers 32 police chiefs in high profile corruption case. 32 Agence France Presse, 10 March 2014, Three more released in Turkish coup plot trial. 33 Agence France Presse, 31 March 2015, Turkish court acquits all 236 suspects in coup plot retrial. See also Jenkins (2014).

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involved in the Turkish state’s conflict with the PKK from the 1980s (see Chapter 5). However, the crucial distinction to make is that the Ergenekon investigations, and subsequent trials, were not aimed at the perpetrators of these undoubted human rights abuses. Instead they were aimed at opponents of the AKP government in general and the Gülen movement in particular, including journalists. It is clear as day that this chain of investigations aims to consolidate and perpetuate the power of political Islam in the presence of AKP, for which it is like protective armour and, consequently, to remove all barriers in the way of the deployment of the Fethullah Gülen organisation in every level of bureaucracy and economy, which has already been achieved to a great extent in both the police and judicial bodies. (Şık 2012, p. 14)

Moreover, the investigations were flawed and connived as a means of dealing with the military as the primary opponent of political Islam in Turkey. The reason why the Gülen movement went to the trouble of fabricating evidence to defang the military and the Kemalist establishment is rooted in the strong influence of the Kemalist elite and its commitment to secularism which had kept any form of religion out of politics and dominated the governance of the country. The strength of the influence was matched by the response. Whilst the Gülen movement was seeking to re-stake a claim for religion in public life in Turkey, it is important to realise that the AKP and the movement came from different theological traditions, albeit within a loose Sufi Islamic framework. Their alliance after 2002 was pragmatic (Tee 2018, p. 155) and mutually beneficial. This was motivated by frustration following the 1997 “postmodern coup” which had seen Erbakan’s Refah Partisi (Welfare Party) driven from government and Fethullah Gülen and his entourage forced to leave the country and re-establish their base in Pennsylvania. There followed the uneasy standoff between the military and the AKP government in its first term but the determination to quash the Kemalists was galvanised after the 2007 coup by memorandum, which opposed Abdullah Gül’s presidency, and the subsequent attempt to close down the AKP in early 2008. Thereafter the AKP and Gülen took every chance to quell the Kemalist influence once and for all. At this point, what may have been a legitimate investigation into a rogue quasi-military network, became a major attempt to remove a raft

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of Kemalist top brass by putting them behind bars on evidence at least partly fabricated. Moreover, the determination to stop the Kemalists more widely can be seen in the burgeoning nature of Ergenekon in particular which expanded to include lawyers, judges, academics—and journalists—who had been critical (or just not supportive) of the AKP government. The first Ergenekon indictment contained no “…proof that the Ergenekon organisation as described in the indictments exists or has ever existed” (Jenkins 2009, p. 11). Indeed, the only characteristic that the accused all appeared to share was an opposition to the JDP34; and particularly to the movement inspired by the exiled Islamist preacher Fethullah Gülen, which has been the JDP’s more important political ally. (Jenkins 2011, p. 1)

However, whilst Gülen and the AKP had a mutually beneficial “arrangement”, Jenkins makes the nuanced point that Ergenekon, and the other investigations, were actually attempts to stymie actors standing in the path of the Gülen movement’s desire to consolidate its own power base—rather than the AKP government’s per se. Certainly, the Ergenekon investigations were driven by Gülen-affiliated elements within the police and judiciary, including the chief prosecutor, Zekeriya Oz. In 2009, Jenkins gave the prosecutors credit for sincerely believing in the network but merely failing to provide proof of it. He suggested they may have been tempted to embellish what was available: The indictments themselves appear to be the products of “projective” rather than deductive reasoning, working backwards from the premise that the organisation exists to weave unrelated individuals, statements and acts into a single massive conspiracy. (Jenkins 2009, p. 11)

Over the years however, Jenkins’ position hardened. Writing with the benefit of hindsight after the AKP–Gülen split in 2013, Jenkins said “Erdoğan stood back and watched as the Gülen Movement expanded its influence in the police and the judiciary, using politically motivated cases to neutralise their common enemies” (Jenkins 2013, p. 2). Hence, for much of the time it had suited Erdoğan to enable the Gülen movement to establish its power base within the state institutions to neutralise the 34 The

Justice and Development Party—the English translation of the AKP.

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secular influence of the military and other Kemalists by nefarious means. The Gülen movement was able to use its network of followers within the government institutions—enabled by the AKP—to launch the prosecutions on flimsy and fabricated evidence—with the help of its affiliated media outlets, such as Taraf. The modus operandi in “…all of the cases (is) characterised by the same features which recur like motifs and have become almost as distinctive as fingerprints”. • An anonymous tip-off to a media outlet of where “evidence” can be found. • A police raid and discovery of the “evidence” • “Prodigiously long indictments redolent with paranoia and cognitive dissonance” • Allegations of “terrorism” and/or plotting a coup d’état • Lack of substantial evidence to back up the allegations (Jenkins 2013, p. 2). In the case of Ergenekon and the associated investigations therefore, securitisation was a discursive strategy to justify the illiberal response needed to neutralise the Kemalist elite. In order to validate the imprisonment of military officers and others, it was necessary to present them as plotters of political violence in the name of extreme Kemalism. This was expedited by Gülen affiliates within the police, judiciary and the media and, over time, the Ergenekon net widened to include opponents beyond just the military and high ranking Kemalists. By 2010/11, it meant anyone who scrutinised or criticised the government and particularly the Gülen movement. There are two points to be made about this securitising approach. Firstly, the term “Ergenekon Terrorist Organisation” (ETÖ) entered the discourse in early 2008 and figured heavily in the first indictment as suspects were charged variously with “creating an armed terrorist organisation” and being a member of it in order to instigate terrorist attacks which would destabilise the government.35 The indictment included assassinations and attacks dating back to the 1990s as well as more recent incidents such as alleged false flag incidents such as the murder of the Supreme Court judge in 2006 and the journalist Hrant Dink in 2007.

35 Agence

France Presse, 14 July 2008. Turkish prosecutor charges 86 over alleged coup plot.

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Moreover, the indictment also associated the Ergenekon group with the PKK and the far leftist DHKP-C. Given the Kemalist military’s antipathy to Kurdish and leftist causes, this seems prima facie unlikely but is given some (limited) credibility by the false flag aspect and the military’s previous track record of military intervention and alleged deep state activity. It was redolent enough of what was known about Turkish army tactics to have basic credibility which was not questioned until later. The European Union lauded Ergenekon as a means of rectifying problematic civil–military relations in Turkey. It was critical of the investigations but only insofar as they did not adhere to the rule of law. The EU did not question the indictment itself even though the charges were “…so full of contradictions, rumors, speculation, misinformation, illogicalities, absurdities and untruths that they are not even internally consistent or coherent” (Jenkins 2009, p. 11). Gülenist media also played a key role in promoting Ergenekon as a credible investigation. It was reported in Gülen-affiliated papers as “either the potential triumph of Turkish democracy (if suspects receive a guilty verdict) or as a potentially destabilising catastrophe (if suspects are found not guilty)” (Hendrick 2011, p. 44). The inconsistencies and contradictions obvious within the Ergenekon indictments were not questioned. In addition, as outlined above, another Gülenist publication, Taraf, which was viewed as a liberal magazine rather than an Islamist one (Balci 2010)—adding to its credibility—acted as a conduit for many of the “leaks” for both Ergenekon and Balyoz beginning in 2008. “Taraf continued to publish one story after another that disclosed alleged military plans…” and also published the scoop which launched the Balyoz investigation in 2010 (Yesil 2016, p. 97). This indicates that the Gülen movement was complicit in instrumentalising the securitisation of “Ergenekon” to neutralise the generic military opposition and individuals, such as Ahmet Şık and Hanefi Avcı, who presented a threat to the movement’s influence. The securitisation justified the authoritarianism of repression: the Gülen movement used followers on the inside of the police and judiciary to carry out the investigations and massage the evidence. It also used its media outlets to launch the allegations and sustain the democratic narrative in their wake.

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The Deterrent Effect The effect on news media freedom of Ergenekon was significant and it contributed towards an increase in the number of journalists in prison in Turkey highlighted by the Committee to Protect Journalists in 2012. Around 20 journalists were convicted in the Ergenekon trial which finished in August 2013 and several of them received sentences of more than 20 years. Mustafa Balbay of Cumhuriyet received a 34-year sentence whilst Tuncay Özkan of BizTV was given a life sentence without chance of parole. Numerous others were given sentences of more than ten years.36 The length of these sentences—most of which were in addition to the several years already spent on remand—is an obvious deterrent to the pursuit of “journalism” in Turkey. An additional deterrent however were the 4091 journalists not arrested for being part of the Ergenekon network but instead investigated under Articles 285 and 288 of the Turkish Criminal Code for charges related to the reporting of the Ergenekon trials (European Commission 2010, note 17). Anything other than complete adherence to the state version of events would make the journalist liable to wider investigation and prosecution and “…needless to say, these court cases would deter journalists from investigating political corruption or possible illegal formations within state institutions” (Yesil 2016, p. 99). The consequence of this was that scrutiny of the state’s—and the Gülenist—role in Ergenekon was limited and those who tried, such as Ahmet Şık and Nedem Şener, were then accused of being part of it. Another deterrent effect was the result of the political economy of the Turkish media. Most major outlets were part of wider business conglomerates dependent on government contracts. As outlined in Chapter 3 this was a deterrent to the pure pursuit of speaking truth unto power. During the Kemalist time, loyalty tended to be with Kemalism but this started to change under the neoliberalism of Turgut Özal and the proliferation of Gülen-affiliated outlets in the 1990s. Gülen was able to further consolidate its media empire after the election of the AKP in 2002 and this intensified further following the 2007 general election— and the beginning of Ergenekon.

36 For a detailed list ergenekon-trial-rises-20.

see

https://rsf.org/en/news/number-journalists-convicted-

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After this point a large part of Ergenekon was played out in the Turkish media narratives promoted by the different allegiances. The Gülenist outlets were all about democracy and the need to reform Turkey’s civil–military relations whilst the more mainstream outlets highlighted discrepancies in the rule of law. The largest media group not affiliated to the AKP or Gülen (which at this time were acting in unison) was the Doğan Media Group of Aydin Doğan. His business empire became embroiled in an “all-out media war” with the AKP/ Gülen alliance and lost (Hendrick 2011, p. 41). Doğan had clashed with the AKP government in 2008 over the awarding of government contracts to an AKP affiliated conglomerate led by Ahmet Çalik, who also had acquired the media group including the newspapers Sabah in 2007.37 The Doğan group retaliated by publishing allegations of dubious, and embarrassing, allegations of corrupt AKP connections with the Islamist charity—Deniz Feneri Derneği—The Lighthouse Association— in Germany (Kaya and Çakmur 2010, p. 532). The following year the Doğan Group was given a tax bill of 3.75 billion Turkish lira (1.75 billion euros) which ultimately obliged it to sell part of its media portfolio to a group loyal to the AKP in 2011 (Corke et al. 2013, p. 7). Doğan employees were also threatened with arrest under Ergenekon and the company was banned from tendering for government contracts for a year (Jenkins 2009). Hence the deterrent effect of AKP policy on media not affiliated to it was achieved through abuse of the rule of law at various levels. ­High-profile journalists were imprisoned for lengthy sentences; routine journalism was deterred by the threat of prosecution for deviating from the “party line” and big businesses involvement in journalism was shifting towards conglomerates loyal to the AKP. Any attempt to tell truth unto the power of the AKP was bad for business—and personal security. The Ergenekon investigation has created a climate of fear among journalists, especially those working in mainstream media and who are critical of the government (personal communication, 2012). The scope of the so-called “Ergenekon crimes” has been so liberally expanded that anyone who criticises the AKP is now fearful of being labeled an Ergenekon conspirator. (Yesil 2014, p. 162)

37 Erdoğan’s

son-in-law, Berat Albayrak, was a business associate of Ahmet Çalik.

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The Kemalist News Media as a Primary Target Cumhuriyet The Gülen–AKP relationship changed drastically in December 2013 as a power struggle between Erdoğan and Gülen came to a head (see Chapter 6). Persecution of the press switched to focus on those run by the Gülen movement. However, it was not that long before the AKP returned to target “journalism” if it threatened its own long-term ambitions. Hence, Cumhuriyet38 newspaper, which had been established in 1924 and was a stalwart of the secular, Kemalist establishment continued to be a focus of AKP attention even after the split with Gülen when Ergenekon was yesterday’s news. In a series of stories in the run-up to the first 2015 general election, Cumhuriyet published video footage which alleged the Turkish secret service, MİT (Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı—National Intelligence Agency), had supplied arms to Islamic State in Syria in 2014—and had also smuggled jihadists from Syria into Turkey.39 This was a highly politically sensitive given the upcoming general election and a deteriorating relationship with the PKK following the siege of Kobane (see Chapter 5). Erdoğan quickly threatened to make the person responsible “pay” for publishing the story and investigations were opened into “obtaining information on state security”, “political and military espionage” and “propaganda for a terrorist organisation”.40 The journalist Can Dündar and Erdem Gül, Cumhuriyet’s Ankara bureau chief, were later charged with espionage and divulging state secrets and remanded in custody pending trial. They were cleared of espionage but convicted of revealing state secrets and sentenced to a five years and ten months term in prison in May 2016 and freed pending an appeal. Dündar, who had survived an assassination attempt outside the court41 left Turkey for Germany in June 2016.

38 Cumhuriyet 39 Agence

means “republic” in Turkish. France Presse, 5 June 2015, Turkey daily accuses authorities of smuggling jihad-

ists to Syria. 40 Agence France Presse, 1 June 2015, Turkey’s Erdoğan threatens daily over Syria arms video. 41 Agence France Presse, 6 May 2016, Turkey journalist Dündar escapes shooting, attacker held.

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However, Cumhuriyet was back in the spotlight in October 2016 when seventeen members of the editorial staff were arrested and 12 were remanded in custody (including Can Dündar in absentia). This time the charges were “knowingly and willingly” abetting the Gülen movement by receiving information (about the previous stories) from them.42 This reflected the changing nature of the AKP–Gülen relationship since December 2013 and the state of emergency powers the AKP had instigated following the attempted coup d’état in July 2016. At their trial in April 2017, the Cumhuriyet journalists, including the Editor-inChief, Murat Sabuncu; well-known columnist Kadri Gürsel, the cartoonist Musa Kart, Ahmet Şık (and Can Dündar) were also accused of supporting terrorist groups such as the PKK and DHKP-C as well as “FETÖ” (the Gülen movement which had by this time been characterised as a ­terrorist organisation called FETÖ). All but four of the defendants, including Kadri Gürsel, were released on bail in September 2017. In April 2018, 13 Cumhuriyet employees—including Ahmet Şık—were given jail sentences for terrorism-related offences and were freed pending appeal.43 However, the editorial freedom of Cumhuriyet was compromised in September 2018 when AKP loyalists were appointed to the editorial board. They sacked the stalwarts and appointed Alev Coşkun, someone who had given evidence against the defendants during their trial, as Editor.44 Journalism as a Political Threat The strategy of the AKP government in Turkey regarding the mainstream, Kemalist, news media was to deter and/or securitise. In other words, the AKP government sought to prevent effective journalism—and stymie scrutiny—and if that did not work, to cure the problem by locking up the practitioners under the cover of a “terrorism” charge of some sort. The deterrent effect of the Ergenekon investigations outlined above is relatively self-explanatory. More than 4000 journalists were investigated under Ergenekon for not writing according to the (AK)

42 Agence France Presse, 21 September 2016, Turkey opposition journalists on trial again over ‘Gülen links’. 43 Agence France Presse, 25 April 2018, Turkey hands jail sentences to journalists. 44 Deutsche Presse-Agentur, 8 September 2018, Chief editor of influential Turkish daily sacked by management board.

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party line. With the actual defendants facing lengthy stretches in prison, it is not hard to see why this may deter all but the most dedicated of individuals from speaking truth unto power. Moreover, the undermining of the Doğan media empire using tax laws was also a warning to other outlets who may have been tempted to do the same. Such deterrence was preventative as the AKP—and Gülen at that time—sought to deter journalism about itself wherever possible but it was also prepared to act against journalists if the need was great enough and this can be seen both during the Ergenekon investigation and also in 2015/6. From an early stage, the Ergenekon investigations were couched in the language of “terrorism”. The first indictment used the phrase “Ergenekon Terrorist Organisation” (ETÖ) because, it was alleged, the military had planned to use false flag terrorist incidents in the name of Islamism to discredit the government (Efe and Yeşiltaş 2012). The discursive framing of journalism within the Ergenekon investigations as “terrorism” was done with the collusion of the Gülen movement. It should be seen as part of the ongoing power struggle between the Kemalist establishment and Islamist elements in Turkish society which accelerated after the 2007 general election. However, after the split with the Gülen movement in 2013, the continuing persecution of Cumhuriyet should be seen within a different context. Cumhuriyet was a proud bedrock of the Kemalist establishment and a purveyor of pure “journalism”. Can Dündar, for example, had a track record of investigation into “Ergenekon” following Susurluk in 1996. By 2015 Cumhuriyet and its journalism were becoming conflated with a generic terrorist threat which, ironically, included the Gülen movement which was no longer an ally of the AKP. It has become one of several actors perceived by the AKP to be a threat to their power consolidation in the executive presidency which have been securitised en masse to justify the authoritarianism of the policy towards them. The nature of this securitisation has become increasingly erratic as the generic terrorist “threat” was framed as comprising an alliance of the PKK, FETÖ, Islamic State and the DHKP-C. Such an illogical mix of competing ideologies served only one cause—to delegitimise the AKP’s opponents and further the power of the AKP itself. Hence, in the post-AKP–Gülen world, Cumhuriyet had reverted to being a threat as a journalism outlet as opposed to a Kemalist ­journalist outlet. The MIT story threatened to undermine the AKP’s credibility in 2015, a year in which there were two general elections and a series of bomb attacks attributed to Islamic State. Hence, Can Dündar was

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initially criminalised and put on trial. Cumhuriyet, itself, (as opposed to Can Dündar as an individual) was targeted the year after and entered the “generic” securitising terrorist threat which included both the PKK and FETÖ.45 Ahmet Şık, who had written the expose of the Gülen movement which led to him being charged under Ergenekon, was also arrested—and charged with making “terror propaganda” on behalf of the far leftist DHKP-C—and, hugely ironically, FETÖ.46 This erratic securitising strategy however was less important than the power the charge gave the government to imprison Şık and curtail his journalism.

Conclusion The Kemalist elite, and journalists associated with it, first came into the sights of the AKP to facilitate the defanging of the military which had overplayed its hand against the AKP in 2007/8. With a second general election term and increased majority in hand, the ruling party was able to fight back against the establishment in a way which had not been open to Necmettin Erbakan a decade before. This put an end to five years of phoney war between the two parties as the AKP found its feet in government. Ergenekon was possible—and allegedly the creation of—the Gülen movement which used its loyal followers within the police and judiciary to bring it to fruition. It was a very effective strategy and weakened the military and the wider Kemalist elite significantly. However the journalists caught up within it were not the primary targets and were mostly targeted to quash effective reporting of the wider illiberality. This had changed by 2015 when the AKP targeted Cumhuriyet to stop the reporting of allegations about the supplying of jihadists in Syria which were very damaging to its reputation. Thereafter it continued to target the flagship newspaper, and other Kemalist outlets, in order to deter similar reporting in the future. This was a direct attack on the reporting of truth unto power and was securitised in order to justify the illiberality involved. Hence the contemporary Illiberality which has resulted in so many journalists in prison, and made Turkey notorious in international civil society, should be seen as a separate

45 Agence

France Presse, 11 November 2016, Turkey arrests head of opposition newspaper. France Presse, 30 December 2016, Turkey charges journalist with ‘terror propaganda’: Report. 46 Agence

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process to the Ergenekon investigations. Ergenekon was part of the ongoing power struggle between the Kemalists and the Islamist which has dominated Turkish political life since the inception of the Republic in 1923. The targeting of Cumhuriyet and others is part of the AKP’s efforts to maintain itself in power having defeated the Kemalists and split with its former Gülen allies. The securitisation involved in each is similar but it has intensified more recently and become focused on all forms of critique or scrutiny which could threaten the political supremacy of the AKP.

References Aydinli, E. (2011). Ergenekon, new pacts, and the decline of the Turkish “inner state”. Turkish Studies, 12(2), 227–239. Balci, A. (2010). A trajectory of competing narratives: The Turkish media debate Ergenekon. Mediterranean Quarterly, 21(1), 76–100. Barrinha, A. (2011). The political importance of labelling: Terrorism and Turkey’s discourse on the PKK. Critical Studies on Terrorism, 4(2), 163–180. Corke, S., Finkel, A., Kramer, D. J., Robbins, C. A., & Schenkkan, N. (2013). Democracy in crisis: Corruption, media, and power in Turkey (Special Report). Freedom House. https://freedomhouse.org/sites/default/files/Turkey%20 Report%20-%202-3-14.pdf. Efe, İ., & Yeşiltaş, M. (2012). Representations of the Ergenekon case in Turkey, 2007–11: Today’s Zaman and Hürriyet daily news. Middle East Critique, 21(2), 187–201. European Commission. (2010). Turkey 2010 progress report. No. SEC(2010) 1327. Brussels: EU. Hendrick, J. D. (2011). Media wars and the Gülen factor in the new Turkey. Washington, DC: Middle East Research and Information Project. No. 260. https://merip.org/?q=mer%2Fmer260%2Fmedia-wars-gulen-factor-new-turkey. Jacoby, T. (2010). Political violence, the ‘war on terror’ and the Turkish military. Critical Studies on Terrorism, 3(1), 99–118. Jenkins, G. (2009). Between fact and fantasy: Turkey’s Ergenekon investigation. Silk Road Studies Program. John Hopkins University SAIS, Washington, DC: Central Asia Caucasus Institute. Jenkins, G., (2011). Ergenekon, Sledgehammer and the politics of Turkish justice. Middle East Review of International Affairs, 15(2). Accessed 18 July 2019. Jenkins, G. (2013). The Ergenekon verdicts: Chronicle of an injustice foretold. Turkey Analyst, 6(4). Accessed 18 July 2019. Jenkins, G. (2014). Falling facades: The Gülen movement and Turkey’s escalating power struggle. Turkey Analyst, 7(1). Accessed 18 July 2019.

64  N. MARTIN Kaptan, S. (2016). The Turkish deep state: State consolidation, civil-military relations and democracy. New Perspectives on Turkey, 54(54), 148–151. Kaya, S. (2009). The rise and decline of the Turkish “deep state”: The Ergenekon case. Insight Turkey, 11(4), 99–113. Kaya, R., & Çakmur, B. (2010). Politics and the mass media in Turkey. Turkish Studies, 11(4), 521–537. Mamdani, M. (2002). Good Muslim, bad Muslim: A political perspective on culture and terrorism. American Anthropologist, 104(3), 766–775. Martin, N. (2015a). How the EU came to open accession negotiations with Turkey: The role of the “well-placed brits”. Journal of European Integration History, 21(2), 231–249. Martin, N. (2015b). Security and the Turkey-EU accession process: Norms, reforms and the Cyprus issue. Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan. Rodrik, D. (2010, May 23). What is going on in Turkey? Accessed July 14 2019. https://rodrik.typepad.com/dani_rodriks_weblog/2010/05/what-is-goingon-in-turkey.html. Şık, A. (2012). Ergenekon as an illusion of democratization. Perspectives. Accessed 12 July 2019. Tee, C. (2018). The Gülen movement and the AK Party: The rise and fall of a Turkish Islamist alliance. In M. H. Yavuz & B. Balci (Eds.), Turkey’s July 15th coup: What happened and why (1st ed., pp. 150–172). Utah: University of Utah. Yesil, B. (2016). Media in new Turkey: The origins of an authoritarian neoliberal state (1st ed.). Chicago: University of Illinois Press.

CHAPTER 5

The AKP and the Kurdish News Media

Abstract  This chapter will examine how the dire state of news media freedom in contemporary Turkey intersects with the Kurdish issue. It starts with the initial optimism of AKP’s relationship with the Kurds, which was hailed as a new beginning based on religious kindred and a mutual distrust of the Kemalist establishment. However, this changed once the Kurdish mainstream political parties began to be a threat to ongoing AKP power. The subsequent KCK investigations were aimed at quelling the nascent grassroots Kurdish movement before it gained momentum. Journalism was included with the KCK operation but it was not the government’s primary target and instead was included more as a deterrent to the reporting of wider KCK illiberality. However, more recent persecution of Kurdish journalists has securitised journalism as “terrorism” in order to delegitimise its message and that of the Kurdish movement as a whole, particularly the HDP. Accordingly, any reporting of the Kurdish issue has been deemed to be in favour of political violence—rather than merely about it. Keywords  PKK

· KCK · HDP · Gülen · AKP

© The Author(s) 2020 N. Martin, The Securitisation of News in Turkey, The Palgrave Macmillan Series in International Political Communication, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49381-3_5

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Introduction This chapter will examine how the relationship between the AKP government and the Kurdish population in Turkey is connected to the issue of news media freedom in the country. It will build on the analysis already presented that the repression of press freedom about the Kurdish “issue” had already been established by the Kemalist establishment which had been dominant since the republic was formed in 1923. Successive Kemalist governments saw the Kurdish issue as a threat to the integrity of a “Turkish” nation state and this situation worsened following the creation of the PKK in the 1980s. After that point journalism about the Kurdish insurgency was seen as journalism in favour of it and was sanctioned accordingly. Specifically, however, this chapter will address how the AKP’s relationship with the Kurdish issue, and the reporting of it, has fed into the current situation regarding press freedom in Turkey. It will argue that whilst there was initial optimism that the AKP would rebuild the Turkish state’s relationship with the Kurdish population, it reverted to type during its first term in power as the Kemalist establishment i.e.: the military, retained some influence and the AKP was not yet strong enough to resist. By the time the AKP had won a second term and begun to “defang” the military through the Ergenekon investigations, it had come to see the Kurdish issue as an ongoing threat to its own electoral success going forwards. To complicate matters however, strategy diverged between the AKP and the Gülen movement who were, at that point, allies. A peace process of sorts ran from 2006 to 2011 but for the most part was done clandestinely. This was occurring in parallel to the development of the KCK—and the government’s adverse reaction to it—and the non-clandestine “acilim” peace attempt. Journalism’s relationship at this time was complex: journalism about the Kurdish issue was securitised as terrorism, reporting of the illiberal KCK trials was discouraged through persecution but at the same time, the Gulenist media was involved in the government’s operation against the KCK and also in scuppering the nascent Oslo peace talks by printing “leaked” information about their existence in 2011. The arrest of Kurdish journalists was a significant part of the jump in numbers which began to raise the alarm in international civil society in 2011. However, the Kurdish issue has also fed into the figures since that point although initially it was overshadowed by the Gulen movement following the AKP public split with Cemaat in December 2013.

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The number of Kurdish journalists in prison under KCK dropped dramatically as the wider Gülen movement became seen as a bigger threat to the AKP and therefore a higher priority. However, the Kurdish “issue” came back to the fore in the 2015 general election when the HDP passed the 10% threshold to enter parliament. The AKP would still have been in power but would not have been able to pass the legislation it needed to establish an executive presidency—with Erdoğan at the helm—as easily. The second securitisation of Kurdish journalism then came as part of the AKP’s strategy to delegitimise the Kurdish movement advance of the general election rerun in November 2015. Support for the HDP fell because it had been associated with the political violence of the PKK. This securitisation process then became enmeshed with the securitisation of all the AKP’s numerous political opponents by this time. This chapter will outline these events and consider that in the KCK, and the later HDP, related securitisations of Kurdish journalism, and journalism about the Kurdish issue, the process was relatively easy. The PKK was a well-established terrorist “threat” and provided an easily applied discursive strategy. Associating the HDP with the PKK reduced the electoral appeal of the HDP and provided the excuse to imprison the party leaders thereafter. Furthermore, the number of journalists imprisoned as a result resurged from 2016 and in 2019 was 12 by CPJ figures.1 The securitisation of journalism in the Kurdish case was done to stymie the accrual of political power first in the KCK grassroots organisation and then the mainstream HDP political party. Within this, the securitisation of journalism in particular, followed a similar pattern to that of Kemalist and Gülenist journalism. As time has passed journalism itself has become the focus of AKP attention, rather than journalism being collateral damage in the securitisation of the wider cause. In addition, the discursive strategy used against it became increasingly erratic and illogical over time such that by October 2015, the Kurdish movement was being accused of bombing its own supporters in cahoots with the Gülen movement and Islamic State (amongst others).

1 The

majority at that time were Gülenist affiliates.

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The AKP and the Kurds When the AKP took power in November 2002 it built upon reforms already established by the ailing government of Bülent Ecevit in response to the EU’s decision in 1999 to consider Turkey’s candidate status if it met the Copenhagen criteria. Although minimal, the reforms to liberalise some aspects of the 1982 constitution were highly symbolic and included the relaxation of emergency rule in the southeast, the lifting of the ban on Kurdish language and the banning of the death penalty. It was these reforms which had so disquieted the Kemalist military as outlined in the previous chapter. Another cause for optimism of a new start in Kurdish relations with the AKP’s ascendance to power was its religious affinity with some sectors of the Kurdish population and a shared antipathy to Kemalism which had previously tried to suppress both Kurds and Islamists. Between 2002 and 2004, the AKP continued to liberalise policy vis a vis the Kurdish issue as it moved towards the opening of EU accession negotiations.2 The harmonisation packages passed by the Turkish parliament at this time helped to mollify the Kurdish situation (Pusane 2014; see also Sarihan 2013). This period also coincided with a change of PKK strategy away from political violence towards “…political recognition as a legitimate and official representative body for Kurds in the international arena by accelerating its front activities in Europe, backed with mass demonstrations in Turkey” (Ünal 2016, p. 101). The PKK strategy changed from “…one of state-building to one of society-building”. This was a bottom-up approach by stealth rather than the blunter instrument of using political violence to achieve a top-down state (Casier et al. 2013). This development in PKK strategy was also able to capitalise on the liberalizing momentum created by the EU accession process. However, the recognition of the PKK by the EU, and others, as a “terrorist” organisation in 2002, had undermined the political will to see this through and the PKK ceasefire ended in 2004. Nevertheless, peace talks were ongoing with the PKK leadership in the midst of continuing violence albeit secretly. This was not a new phenomenon as “backchannel” communications between PKK officials and the Turkish state had taken place in the 1990s as well. There is some 2 The decision was due to be taken at the European Council summit in Brussels in December 2004.

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dispute about exactly when they started although it seems fair to conclude that communications were established in 2006/2007 but actual peace talks were mainly 2009–2011 between high level representatives of the Turkish government and the PKK in Oslo facilitated by British intelligence officers which lasted until their existence was leaked to the press in 2011. “The leaked secret meeting records illustrate that the dialogue aimed not for a cease-fire or de-escalation of violence, but an extended series of negotiations leading to a comprehensive political settlement” (Kadioglu 2019, p. 921). The time of the backchannel communications coincided with fierce fighting between the PKK and the Turkish government and the loss of more than 2000 lives. This made overt conciliation with the PKK leadership highly politically sensitive and so the AKP government was not able to maintain the appeasing discourse it had initiated regarding the Kurdish cause when it had first come to power. This came to the fore in the run-up to the 2007 general election as the political costs began to outweigh the benefits, especially with the prospect of EU accession receding. The AKP reverted to following the securitising pattern of its Kemalist predecessors. It has been argued that “the AKP never really attempted to risk its uncertain position within the Kemalist establishment and put political capital into departing from the default Turkish nationalist position” (Casier et al. 2013, p. 2). Whilst the AKP had done much to invest in the Kurdish east of the country, it lacked the political strength, at that time, to take an independent view of the Kurdish issue and continued the Kemalist mindset which prioritised a military solution. Whilst it continued to liberalise the use of Kurdish language in public settings and the headscarf issue, it backed continuing military operations against PKK bases in northern Iraq but also kept the backchannels of communication open. The role of the EU was pivotal: the Turkish government was dealing with an increasingly lukewarm reaction from the new constellation of leaders within the EU—Nicholas Sarkozy and Angela Merkel—and had redoubled efforts to defeat the Kemalist establishment at home following the 2007 general election. The AKP government did not have the capacity to confront the Kemalist elite on the Kurdish issue as well, especially considering its prospect of progression into the EU was diminishing. Government raids on PKK bases in northern Iraq eroded trust in the AKP’s intentions towards the Kurds and “…allowed the Kurdish political party to regain political ascendency in the Southeast in the nationwide local elections of 2009” (Casier et al. 2013, p. 3).

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The Kurdish News Media as a Secondary Target The KCK Investigations As argued above, the initial high hopes that the election of the AKP could break the Kemalist-Kurdish stalemate dissipated when the AKP maintained the Kemalist path of hard power against Kurdish targets notwithstanding an increase in investment and liberalisation of repressive language laws. Meanwhile, the PKK’s KCK project—of establishing a bottom-up civil society level political movement to further the Turkish cause—was a significant shift in the long-term strategy. The KCK was established in 2007 as “…an umbrella organisation to act as a quasi-state authority in economic, social, political/ideological, and self-defense realms in preparation for establishing situational/de facto autonomy in the region” (Ünal 2016, p. 103). The rationale was to raise awareness of Kurdish identity as a means of galvanising political cooperation for the overall good of the cause. The KCK encouraged Kurdish people to concentrate on local organisation rather than expending energy fighting a battle for independence against the Turkish state which could probably not be won. The KCK organisational structure was based on the PKK leader, Abdullah Öcalan3’s ideas of “democratic confederalism which he developed whilst in prison on Imrali prison island in the Marmara Sea near Istanbul (Ahmet and Jongerden 2013, p. 67).4 It was led by a senior PKK member, Murat Karayilan,5 and crossed existing state boundaries including Kurdish people in Syria, Iran and beyond as well as those in Turkey. Saeed (2017) has classified it as a “social movement” as opposed to a “political” one within which the PKK existed alongside other groups. The KCK was a movement which built upon the established links of Kurdish civil society and political organisation and established unofficial (in Turkish state terms) self-governance bodies for settling legal issues and promoting Kurdish education. Fundamentally the development of the KCK was the assumption of autonomy without official sanction of the Ankara government. It established a network that crossed existing state borders and worked with a 3 Ocalan

is also known as “Apo” (uncle in Kurdish). was imprisoned in 1999. 5 Who was also involved in the Oslo peace talks (Kadioglu 2019, p. 923). 4 Öcalan

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clear Kurdish identity in plain sight of governments. In July 2007 the KCK offered the AKP government a “policy of coexistence…” which could lead to the end of PKK activity. However, the reception was lukewarm not least because the PKK influence within the KCK was apparent. Karayilan was based for a large part of 2007 and 2008 in the Qandil Mountains, a PKK stronghold—and consequently, the AKP made no distinction between the KCK and the PKK. Tensions began to rise in late 2009: the Ankara government prevented Öcalan from releasing his latest writings—the so-called “road-map”—and the Turkish security service warned of a backlash in September 2009. In December that year the first arrests were made in what would come to be called the “KCK investigations” which rounded up political activists under counter-terrorism legislation. Within two years the KCK investigations would have netted several thousand people. Acilim: The Kurdish Opening However, before going into more detail about the KCK investigations, it is necessary to consider another development that happened just before and, prima facie, could seem to contradict the KCK investigations. The “Kurdish opening”—or acilim in Turkish—was a peace initiative led by the Turkish government in 2009 (at the same time as the Oslo talks in secret) which was ultimately aimed at ending the political violence in the region by liberalising relations with the Kurdish population. When considering “acilim” it is necessary to consider the AKP’s response to its poor showing in the 2009 local elections. The Kurdish political party at that time was called the DTP (Democratik Toplum Partisi—Democratic Society Party), and it won more than 60% of the vote in the Kurdish stronghold city of Diyarbakir. This was an improvement in its performance compared to the 2007 general election when more than half of Kurdish voters had supported the AKP. Soon after, the AKP launched the Kurdish acilim opening initiative and secondly arrested DTP officials and banned the party. The KCK “investigations” were launched soon after to dismantle the KCK network of Kurdish civil and civic society. Hence in this two-pronged strategy, the AKP was trying to win over the Kurdish population at the same time as securitising its active members to justify their arrest. As Pusane (2014) states, the details of acilim were never clear but nominally it set out to engender goodwill with the Kurdish population by

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restoring the Kurdish names of cities in the region—Amed for Diyarbakir for example—liberalising the language laws even further and granting an amnesty for PKK activists. The rationale was to lessen tension and gradually reintegrate PKK fighters into society. Hence, acilim was directed at the PKK, and an end to political violence, rather than the more subtle and broader reach of the KCK. Ultimately though the AKP was operating on highly sensitised political ground and acilim was hindered from the beginning by the circumstances surrounding the overly triumphant return of the first group of PKK fighters from Iraq to Turkey via the Habur border gate made possible under the arrangements. The PKK was still widely seen in Turkey as an enemy which targeted soldiers—often young conscripts—and the sight of returning fighters being greeted by cheering crowds was a public relations disaster for the AKP6 which made it “lose its enthusiasm” for the initiative (Pusane 2014, p. 86)—although the Oslo talks continued in secret. After this point the “Kurdish opening” became the “democratic opening” and lost momentum. Instead the DTP was prosecuted for “identifying with a terrorist organisation” (the PKK) and was eventually banned in December 2009.7 Hence “acilim” “fizzled out…without addressing the real issues of cultural identity and political control” in the Kurdish issue (Casier et al. 2013, p. 3) and the narrative of AKP-Kurdish relations focused instead on the KCK investigations. It has been argued the failure of acilim made the situation worse as it had aggrieved both the Kurdish and the Turkish nationalist opinion. The banning of the DTP and the KCK “investigations” securitised the Kurdish cause. Crucially, from the point of view of news media freedom, whilst the process began by targeting political activists, journalists were soon brought under the KCK umbrella and targeted for their reporting of the trials and the Kurdish issue more widely. Arrests The KCK arrests, from late 2009, interrupted the AKP’s strategy of “…progressive efforts to remove grievances and employ peaceful rhetoric…” and destroyed any residual trust between the two sides 6 Agence France Presse, 21 October 2009, Kurd rebels receive hero’s welcome, Turkish govt under fire. 7 Agence France Presse, 11 December 2009,  Turkey’s top court bans Kurdish party: Official.

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(Ünal 2016, p. 106). The arrests of DTP politicians, activists and civil society members began in December 2009 and continued until 2013 on the grounds that the KCK was the PKK—a designated terrorist organisation. Coming so soon after acilim, this was a puzzle for observers: There were two conflicting processes in 2009 – recognising the Kurdish problem on one hand, and the so-called KCK operation arrests on the other; imprisoning individuals such as former member of parliament Hatip Dicle while saying they wanted to solve the [Kurdish] issue. The government handled it clumsily. (ICG 2014)8

Moreover, there were concerns about “…procedural wrongdoings in the investigation, arrest, detention and trial procedures, and also during the initial collection of evidence” in the KCK investigation (European Commission 2011, Sec. 2.2). The exact number of KCK arrests is hard to establish because of this abuse of due process. It is not clear who was arrested or what they were arrested for. However, arrests began shortly after the banning of the DTP on terrorism grounds: they were initially aimed at members of the party and the indictments referred to the KCK as the “urban wing” of the PKK.9 Another Kurdish party, the BDP (Barış ve Demokrasi Partisi— Peace and Democracy Party) was established to replace the DTP after it was banned and in February 2010, 14 members were arrested.10 The first KCK trial began in October 2010 of mainly local politicians, including the mayor of Diyarbakir, on charges including “leadership and membership of a terrorist organisation”, “undermining the state’s unity”, “spreading terrorist propaganda” and “aiding and abetting a terrorist organisation” carrying sentences from five years to life imprisonment.11 This pattern continued through 2010 and gathered pace again in 2011. By this time, the KCK investigations net had widened from just

8 Comment by Emma S ­ inclair-Webb, senior Turkey researcher, Human Rights Watch, Istanbul. Reported in ICG 2014. 9 United Press International, 25 December 2009, Kurdish Politicians detained in Turkey. 10 BBC Monitoring, 13 February 2010, Turkey: More than 80 Kurdish activists detained ahead of anniversary (Text of report by Turkish privately owned NTV television’s NTV Online). 11 Agence France Presse, 18 October 2010, Around 150 Kurds in court in Turkey trial over rebel links.

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party activists to include academics, lawyers—and journalists as well. As mentioned already, the exact number of those affected is hard to pinpoint—the government figure for the number of people arrested was 700, compared to the BDP estimate of 350012—although it is reasonable to assume the number is in the thousands, rather than the hundreds. According to the US State Department Turkey report of 2011, by the end of 2011, 4000 people had been arrested and/or investigated. Around 40 journalists were arrested on 20 December 2011 on charges of being the “press and propaganda arm” of the KCK in a move condemned by both the OSCE and the Committee to Protect Journalists.13 They were accused of being members of the PKK and disseminating terrorist propaganda and charged under counter-terrorism legislation and the Turkish penal code. The 2012 CPJ report claims the allegations against most journalists prosecuted under the KCK investigations relate to reporting of the KCK trials, and the wider Kurdish situation, rather than active participation in KCK or PKK activities. Throughout the Kurdish prosecutions, CPJ found that the government conflated reporting favorable to the PKK or other outlawed Kurdish groups with actual assistance to such organisations. Basic newsgathering activities— receiving tips, assigning stories, conducting interviews, relaying information to colleagues—were depicted by prosecutors as engaging in a terrorist enterprise. (Committee to Protect Journalists 2012)

In other words, the journalists arrested under KCK were arrested for doing journalism about the wider KCK investigation and as such were securitised, by the AKP government, for doing their job. In addition, as Yesil highlights, the arbitrary prosecution of local journalists deterred some of the mainstream press from covering the Kurdish situation. Several who did so were persecuted and/or prosecuted as a result (Yesil 2014). This pattern mirrors that of journalists within the Ergenekon investigation and trial which was taking place at approximately the same time. 12 Agence France Presse, 20 December 2011, Turkey arrests AFP photographer over suspected rebel links. 13 Agence France Presse, 23 December 2011, Media watchdog condemns Turkey arrest of reporters.

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The KCK trials continued into 2012 and 2013: 205 people were put in the dock in July 2012. The actual number of convictions, as opposed to arrests, is relatively small: around 40 people were convicted in January 2013—having spent several years in prison without trial anyway. The KCK investigations therefore successfully limited the ability of activists to act freely—and journalists to write about the situation. Eventually the KCK was overtaken as a priority by the ongoing Imrali peace process with Ocalan and the Turkish government which had began in early 2013 (Grigoriadis and Dilek 2018) and many KCK suspects were released in March 2014. The KCK issue was also overtaken as a priority for the AKP by its split with Gülen in December 2013.14 Another dynamic at play in this scenario is the possibility that the Gülen movement was a primary driver in the KCK investigations (Toktamis 2018). The modus operandi of the KCK investigations resembles Ergenekon and it is clear that disagreements on how to deal with the Kurdish “issue”, and the role of Hakan Fidan of MIT15 (an AKP loyalist) in keeping lines of communication open with Abdullah Öcalan, following the collapse of the Oslo talks, was a factor in the AKP-Gülen rift of 2013. The Role of Gülen in KCK It is necessary to consider specifically who was enacting this securitising discourse surrounding the KCK investigations and wider oppression of journalism. This was before the split between the AKP and Gülen, so it is a reasonable assumption that the Gülen movement—and its acolytes embedded into the police and judiciary—were involved in some way. Jenkins (2011) has identified that both the KCK investigations and Ergenekon are characterised by “extraordinarily long indictments characterised by simplistic irrationalities and inherent contradictions”. Jenkins also notes that the KCK and Gülen were involved in similar civil society and social work in eastern Turkey—albeit from different motivations— and so the KCK was a rival for the loyalty of some parts of the Kurdish population. “As a result, regardless of whether or not it is driving the KCK investigation, the Gülen movement has certainly benefited from

14 Agence France Presse, 27 March 2014, Turkey frees 45 pending trial over Kurdish rebel ties. See also Chapter 6. 15 Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı—National Intelligence Agency.

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the detention of thousands of secular Kurdish nationalists” (Jenkins 2011, p. 3). Moreover, Toktamiş suggests that the KCK investigations were being driven by the Gülen movement which opposed the AKP strategy of maintaining a dialogue with the PKK in the Oslo and Imrali talks. This would perhaps explain the apparent contradiction of sabotaging the Kurdish opening (acilim) peace initiative by launching the KCK investigations in 2009 to disrupt the Oslo talks and a similar pattern can be seen two years later at Imrali. Rather than appeasing the PKK, Gülen wanted to extend his network to eastern Turkey and win the battle through soft power. Whilst the investigations were being run by the state agencies controlled by Gülen, the writers on Gülenist news outlets were also consistent in framing the KCK investigations as “terrorist” and criticising the AKP for trying to maintain dialogue. Hence the Gülenist media had a role in the narrative which securitised other media in an effort to curtail the scrutinising role of the wider news media. Journalism was not the primary target in the securitisation of the KCK investigations, but a secondary or ancillary target to stop the wider injustices from being reported.

The Kurdish News Media as a Primary Target The Rise of the HDP The AKP continued to keep lines of communication open with the PKK elite even after the failure of the “Kurdish opening” (acilim) in 2009 and the KCK investigations, albeit with a lower profile. Communications were maintained with Abdullah Öcalan and his associates firstly with the “Oslo talks” and then the “Imrali talks” (Grigoriadis and Dilek 2018). The Oslo talks ran from 200916 until the spring of 2011 and were conducted primarily between Öcalan and his associates and the Turkish secret service, MIT (Casier et al. 2013). They “came to an abrupt halt” in September 2011 when politically sensitive covert recordings of the talks were made public in a move attributed to the Gülen movement (Toktamis 2018, p. 709).17 PKK violence returned in 2011/2012

16 Although 17 Toktamiş

contact had probably been established as early as 2006 (see Kadioglu 2019). attributes the leak to the Gülen movement, Cemaat.

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although talks between Öcalan and the Turkish government resumed in early 2013 with the so-called Imrali talks (Grigoriadis and Dilek 2018, p. 292). There was another ceasefire in March of that year although by this time there were indications that the Kurdish side was divided over how much to trust the AKP. The underlying mistrust was exacerbated by the situation in northern Syria18 and the Turkish government’s reaction to the assault by Islamic State (Daesh) forces on the Syrian-Kurdish town of Kobane (Thornton 2015; Basaran 2017). The Turkish government’s policy was to contain Syrian-Kurdish refugees, from Kobane and the surrounding area, within a “humanitarian buffer zone” near the border.19 However, Ankara refused to allow Turkish Kurds to cross the border to fight the Islamic State in Kobane. Moreover, demonstrations against this policy were condemned by Erdoğan as attempts by “dark forces” to “sabotage” the fragile ceasefire with the PKK.20 Soon after, Iraqi Kurdish Peshmerga guerrillas were permitted to cross the border from Turkey to fight in Kobane (Martin 2018). The events in northern Syria were a stress test on the fragile peace process in Turkey—and it failed. Turkey’s refusal to come to the aid of Kurdish defenders of Kobane… against a four-month onslaught by the Jihadi forces of IS…led to Kurdish disturbances in Turkey in which over forty people lost their lives. (Park 2017, p. 203)

Around this time, in 2014, Erdoğan also began to discursively equate the PKK with Islamic State as a generic terrorist threat. He said, “…it is wrong to consider them in different ways (…). We need to handle them all together on a common ground”.21 This was partly a clumsy

18 Agence France Presse, 7 December 2013, Clashes in Turkey after deaths of two Kurdish protesters; Agence France Presse, 7 June 2014, Kurdish protester killed in clashes with Turkey soldiers; Agence France Presse, 19 August 2014, Kurdish protester killed in Turkey clashes over PKK statue. 19 Agence France Presse, 22 September 2014, More than 130,000 Syrian Kurds flee to Turkey. 20 Agence France Presse, 9 October 2014, Erdoğan denounces Turkey protests as peace process ‘sabotage’. 21 Anatolia News Agency, 4 October 2014, Turkish President: PKK, ISIL same for Turkey.

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defence against claims the Turkish government had supplied arms to Islamic State fighters in Syria previously—as reported by Can Dündar of Cumhuriyet newspaper—but the consequence was to destabilise PKKAKP relations and boost support for the HDP, which had taken over from the BDP in 2014.22 The HDP (Halklarin Demokratik Partisi—People’s Democratic Party) is a left-leaning party formed in 2012/2013 with a wider, progressive, appeal which, in the first 2015 general election, benefitted from the sense of injustice following Kobane (Barkey 2017). In the June 2015 general election, the first of two that year, it exceeded the 10% threshold necessary to sit in the Turkish parliament and won an unprecedented 80 seats or 13% of the vote.23 This prevented the AKP from achieving a full majority in parliament24 and was an obstacle to its establishment of an executive presidency. The AKP had also seen its vote share drop, from 49.8% in 2011 to 41% in 2015 as a result of its conciliation with the Kurdish issue. Hence it was losing votes to a Kurdish political party, the HDP, and because of the Imrali peace process to the right-wing Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (MHP, Nationalist Action Party): In comparison to the 2011 general elections, in 2015 the MHP increased its votes across Turkey as a whole, with the largest jump in MHP votes coming from the nationalist electorate in the Black Sea, Aegean and central Anatolian regions, who were dissatisfied with the AKP’s solution process to the Kurdish issue. (Bardakçi 2016, p. 9)

Attempts to form a coalition after the June elections were unsuccessful and a second general election was called for 1 November 2015.25 By this time it was essential for the AKP to regain control over its relationship with the Kurds which has lost votes in two directions. In the second 2015 general election, in November, the AKP regained support

22 The BDP and HDP are connected and existed in parallel for some of this time. For an explanation see Grigoriadis and Dilek (2018). 23 Agence France Presse, 8 June 2015, Turkey ruling party weighs options after election blow. 24 This was significant as it stopped Erdoğan from being able to pass his constitutional changes towards an executive presidency unopposed. 25 Agence France Presse, 25 August 2015, Turkey to vote on Nov 1, PM to form caretaker government.

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from both the HDP and the MHP—and was able to form a single party government that was so crucial to the longer term presidential ambition.26 2015 Events The relationship between the “Kurds”, broadly defined, and the AKP government deteriorated sharply following the HDP’s success in the June 2015 general election and particularly after the Suruç bombing of July 2015.27 More than 30 people were killed, and around 100 more were injured, by a device, attributed to Islamic State by the Turkish government,28 which had been planted in a cultural centre hosting young activists preparing to go to Kobane to help with repairs. The PKK claimed Turkish state collusion with the perpetrators and retaliated29 which “signaled the end of the peace process that had been in the making for years” (Yesil 2016, p. 143). The AKP government then continued to discursively conflate the PKK with the Islamic State and used the “terrorist” status of the PKK to justify joint airstrikes by Turkish planes on Islamic State in Syria and the PKK in northern Iraq. The two organisations—IS and the PKK— were discursively treated as a monolithic “terrorist” threat with little nuance or acknowledgement of the logical contradiction of doing so. The Prime Minister Ahmed Davutoğlu said the airstrikes had been necessary to prevent Turkey from being turned into a “lawless country”.30 Thereafter the HDP, a mainstream political party, was used as a synonym for the PKK and therefore terrorism. The Foreign Minister Mevlüt Çavuşoğlu said the HDP was “affiliated with the PKK” and “could be an important mediator…but instead they are calling on Kurdish citizens to take up arms, to demonstrate, to disturb public order”.31 This is a clear 26 Agence France Presse, 1 November 2015, Joy and anguish greet AKP win in Turkey vote. 27 Agence France Presse, 20 July 2015, Suicide bomber kills 31 in Turkey attack blamed on IS. 28 Agence France Presse, 21 July 2015, Shocked Turkey steps up security after deadly border attack. 29 Agence France Presse, 22 July 2015, PKK claims killing Turkish police to avenge ‘IS bombing’. 30 Agence France Presse, 25 July 2015, Turkey strikes on Kurdish bases in Iraq puts truce in danger. 31 Agence France Presse, 27 July 2015, PKK ‘never respected’ peace process: Turkey.

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and deliberate conflation of political protest with political violence which was then used to justify criminal investigations into the HDP’s leaders. It is not denied that there is a grey area between the PKK and the HDP as there are clear familial connection at the highest level. Demirtaş’ brother, Nurettin is an active member of the PKK for example (Martin 2018). However, it is argued that seen in the context of late 2015, it was politically expedient for the AKP to be able to exaggerate the connection and to discursively construct the HDP as a terrorist actor involved in active political violence rather than political campaigning. On 30 July 2015, the government began a criminal investigation into co-leader Selahattin Demirtaş, for inciting violence referring to a call for protests against AKP policy at Kobane the previous year.32 Erdoğan also referred to the HDP as “…the party that is controlled by a terrorist organisation”33 and in September 2015 the state prosecutor opened an investigation into Demirtaş and his co-leader Fiğen Yüksekdağ on allegations of “insulting the nation” and “making propaganda for a terror group”34 (Martin 2018). The government attributed the bombing of a Kurdish rally in Ankara in October 2015 to a vague terrorist “threat” which included the PKK and Islamic State thereby suggesting the PKK had bombed its own sympathisers. The Prime Minister, Ahmet Davutoğlu said: As the investigation on the attack deepens, through the results on Twitter accounts and IP addresses, we see the high probability that both Daesh (ISIS) and the PKK are organisations that may have had an active role.35

This was in the run-up to the second general election in 2015 and contributed to the securitisation of the HDP as “terrorist”, and a decline in its performance in the November 2015 election, followed by the return of the Kurdish “issue” to political violence thereafter. To many observers it 32 Agence France Presse, 8 October 2014, At least 14 dead as protests rage in Turkey over Kobane. 33 Agence France Presse, 12 August 2015, Erdoğan vows no let-up in fight against Kurdish rebels. 34 Agence France Presse, 10 September 2015, Turkey blocks pro-Kurdish MPs from curfew city after deadly fighting. 35 CNN Wire, 15 October 2015, Ankara bombings: Prime Minister says online probes point to ISIS, PKK.

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seemed the AKP “…was intentionally stoking the anti-Kurdish sentiment to discredit the HDP and win back a parliamentary democracy” (Yesil 2016, p. 144; see also Martin 2018; Toktamis 2019). In January 2016 the Turkish government called for Demirtaş’ and Yüksekdağ’s parliamentary immunity as sitting members of parliament to be lifted because of these “terrorist” activities. Erdoğan said the co-leaders should “pay the price” as “…we cannot accept statements ­ calling for the country to be broken up. We will never agree to a state within a state”. I believe that the lifting of immunity of those against whom the cases have been initiated will help the atmosphere in our country in the fight against terror in a positive way.36

In November 2016 Demirtaş and Yüksekdağ were arrested and remanded in custody on charges of “managing a terror organisation” and “making propaganda for a terror group”. At the time of writing (January 2020), both remain in jail.37 The Difference Between a Gun and a Pen The KCK investigations had numerous effects on journalism: a relatively small number of practitioners were imprisoned as “terrorists” for doing their job, but many more were persecuted for reporting illiberal government policy and more still were deterred from attempting to do so. Moreover, the KCK investigations have parallels with Ergenekon and associated trials in modus operandi. Both involve the securitisation of political opposition in order to justify the prosecution of that opposition—and the scrutiny—journalism—of it. Whilst the modus operandi is similar, the securitisation process for the KCK investigations was more straightforward than that for Ergenekon. In securitising the KCK, the AKP had a ready-made parallel, the PKK, to compare them to. With Ergenekon the government, and its Gülenist allies, had to try much harder to manufacture the Ergenekon trials and 36 Agence France Presse, 2 January 2016, Erdoğan backs criminal probe against Kurdish party chiefs’. 37 Agence France Presse, 7 December 2017, Trial begins of pro-Kurdish leader in Turkey on ‘terror’ links.

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then portray the military as a terrorist organisation (ETÖ). The combination of these two factors is what prompted the CPJ to write to the Turkish government in 2012 asking for an explanation of the sudden jump in the numbers of journalists in jail in Turkey. Replies were made by the Justice Minister, Sadullah Ergin and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan via the Turkish Ambassador to the United States, Namik Tan. Neither answered the question but merely restated that it wasn’t journalists who had been imprisoned—but “terrorists”—ergo it was acceptable. Ergin stressed the AKP’s commitment to liberal democracy and the liberalising reforms which had been made in the first few years of the AKP government. He also said the issue with news media freedom was “exaggerated”: Detained or convicted journalists were subject to some measures or sanctions not because of their professional activities but due to their criminal acts. Of all the people imprisoned in our country, the great majority of those who are tried to be linked with journalist identity are the ones who are deprived of their liberty on the grounds of serious offences such as membership of an armed terrorist organisation, kidnapping, possession of unregistered firearm and hazardous substance, bombing and murder. I need to ask the following critical question in order to be able to express the difficulty of striking this balance: What is the extent of tolerance, in any country across the world, to the idea of journalism where a terrorist organisation can explicitly or implicitly publish its instructions to its actions, spread its organisational doctrine to massive crowds and praise violence with a hateful tone?

Similarly, Ambassador Tan stated: With regard to the above-mentioned cases, I would like to emphasise that, contrary to what has been suggested, a great majority of the persons referred to as “journalists in prison” have been charged with serious crimes—such as being a member of, or supporting an illegal or armed terrorist organisation—that concern the security and integrity of our country and that are not related to their work as journalists or members of media organisations. (CPJ 2012, p. 50)

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Hence this discourse implores international civil society to consider the difficulties Turkey has with terrorism and act accordingly—and refuses to countenance that journalists are prosecuted for anything other than “terrorism”. This circular argument is the justification for the illiberality and the suppression of “journalism” which further entrenches the authoritarianism which enabled the discursive strategy to work. Fast forward to 2015 and, as has been outlined, the HDP was securitised to defuse its electoral effectiveness and the subsequent illiberal imprisonment of its co-leaders. Journalists were caught in this net to stop the HDP gaining ground on the AKP and threatening the AKP’s path to establishing an executive presidency. Moreover, journalism was targeted to stem the reporting of extreme human rights abuses in eastern Turkey. Exact figures for the number of journalists arrested and/or prosecuted in 2015/2016 are difficult to access but, it is clear that, in the summer months of 2015—in the run-up to the second general election—there was an effort by the AKP government to stem the activities of “journalism” about Kurdish issues, broadly defined. Yesil (2016, p. 144) states that between July and September 2015, 49 media workers were detained on terrorism charges and most were from Kurdish associated organisations. The resumption of hostilities between the government and the AKP following the Suruç bombing provided the discursive justification for the arrests on “terrorism” grounds. These included around 30 journalists working for the Dicle News Agency and the newspaper Azidiye Welat in the east of the country who were detained at what was the height of the Turkish government bombardment of alleged terrorist sites in eastern Turkey, such as in Cizre and Nusaybin,38 in which civilians were involved (UN 2017). The arrest of journalists reporting the area at this time contributed to the sense of heightened terrorist activity and the framing of the HDP as a terrorist organisation. It also impacted on the ability of human rights abuses to be reported in Turkey and further afield. It is a sign of how determined the AKP was to target journalism that several non-Turkish national journalists—including the Dutch reporter Frederike Geerdink and two British journalists, Jake Hanrahan and Philip Pendlebury—were

38 Agence France Presse, 13 September 2015, Cizre residents bury dead after Turkey army curfew.

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also arrested and deported for reporting these issues.39 The RSF/IPI issued a statement in October 2015 highlighting the increased pressure on journalists and its consequences for “democracy”, including those associated with the Kurdish issue, since the June general election. This pressure has significantly impacted journalists’ ability to report on matters of public interest freely and independently, and that this pressure, if allowed to continue, is likely to have a significant, negative impact on the ability of voters in Turkey to share and receive necessary information, with a corresponding effect on Turkey’s democracy. (RSF 2015)

Thus, Turkey had become notorious in 2012 and 2013 when it topped the table for the CPJ’s number of journalists in jail—at 49 in 2012—and this was primarily attributable to the KCK arrests. The figure dropped significantly in 2014 and 2015 (to 7 and 14, respectively) when many of the KCK detainees were released following the Gülen split. However, Turkey was back at the top of the table in 2016 when it spiked again at 81 (Fig. 5.1). Whilst the majority of those detained in 2016 were Gülen-related (this was following the attempted coup d’état), 21% worked for Kurdish outlets and another 12% were Cumhuriyet journalists detained on charges of reporting Kurdish issues and so being in favour of the PKK (amongst others). Speaking after a car bomb attack in Kizilay Square in Ankara in which 34 people died, which was attributed to the PKK, Erdoğan called for the definition of terrorism to be extended in a clear securitising move: There’s no difference between a terrorist with a gun and bomb in his hand and those who exploit their positions, pens and titles and put them at terrorists’ disposal to achieve their aims…the fact that they are MPs, academics, writers, journalists, NGO executives does not change the fact that they are terrorists. Those who explode the bomb and pull the trigger can be terrorists but those who help that action achieve its goal are their supporters and abettors.

Erdoğan had also taken the opportunity of the Ankara car bomb attack to reiterate calls for the immunity of HDP politicians Demirtaş and Yüksekdağ to be lifted:

39 It should be noted that Hanrahan and Pendlebury’s local “fixer”, Mohammed Rasool, was not released until January 2016.

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