Turkey’s European Future: Behind the Scenes of America’s Influence on EU-Turkey Relations 9780814784457

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Turkey’s European Future

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Turkey’s European Future Behind the Scenes of America’s Influence on EU-Turkey Relations

Nathalie Tocci

a NEW YORK UNIVERSIT Y PRESS New York and London

NEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS New York and London www.nyupress.org © 2011 by New York University All rights reserved References to Internet websites (URLs) were accurate at the time of writing. Neither the author nor New York University Press is responsible for URLs that may have expired or changed since the manuscript was prepared. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Tocci, Nathalie. Turkey’s European future : behind the scenes of America’s influence on EU-Turkey relations / Nathalie Tocci. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978–0–8147–8409–9 (cl : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–8147–8416–7 (ebk.) 1. European Union—Turkey. 2. Turkey—Relations—European Union countries. 3. European Union countries—Relations—Turkey. 4. United States— Foreign relations—European Union countries. 5. European Union countries— Foreign relations—United States. 6. United States—Foreign relations—Turkey. 7. Turkey—Foreign relations—United States. I. Title. JZ1570.A57T96 2011 341.242’209561—dc22 2011015713 New York University Press books are printed on acid-free paper, and their binding materials are chosen for strength and durability. We strive to use environmentally responsible suppliers and materials to the greatest extent possible in publishing our books. Manufactured in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Kike

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Contents

List of Abbreviations

ix

Chronology: US-Turkey-EU Relations

xi

Acknowledgments

xv

Preface 1

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Squaring the Triangle: Understanding American Influence

1

2 The View from Washington: American Debates and Stakeholders

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3 Behind the Scenes of the EU: European Debates and Stakeholders

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4 Transatlantic Debates: The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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5 Influencing Europe through the Back Door: The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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6 Global Implications: American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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7 Conclusion: Unpacking the Triangle

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Notes

175

Bibliography

189

Index

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About the Author

214

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List of Abbreviations

AKP

Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (Turkish Justice and Development Party) ATAKA ‘Attack’ (Bulgarian nationalist party) BP British Petroleum BTC Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline CAP European Common Agricultural Policy CDU/CSU Christlich Demokratische Union/Christlich-Soziale Union (German Christian Democrat Party) CENTCOM Central Command of the US Department of Defense CFSP European Common Foreign and Security Policy CHP Cumhuriyetçi Halk Partisi (Turkish Republican People’s Party) CSDP European Common Security and Defence Policy DTP Demokratik Toplum Partisi (Pro-Kurdish Democratic Society Party) EC European Community EEC European Economic Community EP European Parliament EU European Union EUCOM European Command of the US Department of Defense EUFOR EU Force in Bosnia FDI Foreign Direct Investment FRY Former Republic of Yugoslavia FPÖ Freiheitliche Partei Österreichs (Austrian Freedom Party) IDPs Internally Displaced Persons IFOR NATO Implementation Force in Bosnia ISAF NATO International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan KFOR NATO Kosovo Force KRG Kurdish Regional Government |

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LAOS NGO NATO OSCE PASOK PKK SETA SFOR TESEV TGNA TIKA TOBB TUSKON TÜSİAD UK UN UNSC US USSR

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Laïkós Orthódoxos Synagermós (Greek Popular Orthodox Party) Nongovernmental organization North Atlantic Treaty Organization Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Pannelion Socialistikon Kinima (Greek socialist party) Partiya Karkeran Kurdistan (Kurdistan Workers Party) Siyaset Ekonomi ve Toplum Araştırmaları Vakfı (Turkish Foundation for Political, Economic and Social Research) NATO Stablization Force in Bosnia Türkiye Ekonomik ve Sosyal Etüdler Vakfı Turkish Grand National Assembly Türk İşbirliği ve Kalkınma İdaresi Başkanlığı (Turkish Development Agency) Türkiye Odalar ve Borsalar Birliği (Turkish Union of Chambers and Commodities) Türkiye İşadamları ve Sanayiciler Konfederasyonu (Turkish Confederation of Businessmen and Industrialists) Türk Sanayicileri ve İşadamları Derneği (Turkish Industrialists and Businessmen Association) United Kingdom United Nations UN Security Council United States United Soviet Socialist Republics

| List of Abbreviations

Chronology US-Turkey-EU Relations

1945 1946 1947 1948 1949 1950

1952 1954 1957 1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964

1965 1970

Turkey attends the San Francisco Conference and becomes a Charter member of the United Nations. Republican People’s Party (CHP) wins the general elections in Turkey. Turkey is included, alongside Greece, in the Truman Doctrine. Turkey begins receiving Marshall Plan aid and becomes a member of the OECD. Turkey becomes a member of the Council of Europe. Turkey holds its first multiparty general elections, bringing the Democrat Party (DP) to power. Turkey participates in the Korean War. Turkey becomes a member of NATO. DP wins the general elections. Turkey and the US sign the Military Facilities Agreement. DP wins the general elections. Turkey applies for Association to the EEC. First military coup in Turkey. The coalition government of the CHP and the Justice Party formed after the elections. Cuban Missile Crisis and the removal of Jupiter missiles from Turkey. Signature of the ‘Ankara Agreement’: the Association Agreement between Turkey and the EEC. Through the ‘Johnson letter,’ the US warns Turkey that it would not intervene if the Soviet Union attacked Turkey in defense of the Republic of Cyprus. The Justice Party wins the general elections. Signature of the Additional Protocol to the EEC-Turkey Association Agreement. |

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1971 1973

Second military coup in Turkey. The Additional Protocol enters into force. The coalition government of the CHP and the National Salvation Party is formed after elections. 1974 Following a Greek coup in Cyprus, Turkey militarily intervenes in the island. 1975 US arms embargo on Turkey. 1980 12 September military coup in Turkey. Turkey and the US sign the Defense and Economic Cooperation Agreement. 1982 Formal relations between Turkey and the EC are suspended following the coup. 1983 The Motherland Party wins the general elections. 1986 Relations between Turkey and EC are reinstated. The EC signs the Single European Act. 1987 Turkey applies for full EC membership. 1989 The European Commission rejects Turkey’s application for membership. 1990–91 Turkey participates in the Gulf War. The Treaty of Maastricht enters into force establishing the European Union. 1995 Council Decision foreseeing Turkey’s entry in the EU customs union. NATO Operation Deliberative Force in Bosnia followed by the Dayton Accords. 1996 Turkey enters the EU customs union. Welfare Party leader Necmettin Erbakan heads the first pro-Islamic government in Turkey. Imia/Kardak crisis between Greece and Turkey. Turkey and Israel sign the Military Training and Cooperation Agreement. 1997 The ‘soft’ military coup in Turkey ousting the Erbakan government. The European Council in Luxembourg fails to include Turkey as a candidate for EU membership. 1998 The first Commission ‘Progress Report’ for Turkey is published. Turkey mobilizes 100,000 troops on the border with Syria. Thereafter Turkey and Syria sign the Adana Agreement.

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| Chronology

1999

2000 2001

2002

2003 2004

2005

2006

2007

NATO military operation against Serbia. Capture of PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan. ‘Earthquake diplomacy’ between Greece and Turkey. At the OSCE summit, President Clinton witnesses the signing of the BTC agreement. The European Council in Helsinki recognizes Turkey as a candidate for EU membership. Turkey establishes a Secretariat General for European Union Affairs. 11 September attacks in the US. Turkey receives its first Accession Partnership document setting out the priorities to meet the Copenhagen criteria. Turkey responds with its ‘National Program’ for the adoption of the aquis communautaire and passes the first major constitutional reform package. AKP wins the general elections. The Copenhagen European Council postpones the decision to open accession negotiations with Turkey to 2004. TGNA rejects the motion to allow US troops to use Turkish territory for a second front attack on Iraq. The Annan Plans fails as the Greek Cypriot community rejects, while the Turkish Cypriot community accepts, the Plan in separate referendums. Cyprus and nine other candidate countries enter the EU. Based on a recommendation by the Commission, the European Council affirms that Turkey ‘sufficiently’ fulfils the Copenhagen political criteria and can begin accession negotiations in 2005. Turkey opens accession negotiations with the EU. Turkey signs the ‘Additional Protocol’ which extends the Ankara agreement to ten new members, including Cyprus. Turkey begins the ‘screening process’ of all chapters and opens and provisionally closes the negotiation chapter on Science and Research. On the grounds of Turkey’s non-implementation of the Additional Protocol to the Ankara Agreement to Cyprus, the European Council freezes eight chapters in Turkey’s accession negotiations. The Committee on Foreign Affairs of the US Congress passes a resolution recognizing the Armenian genocide. AKP wins the general elections.

Chronology

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2008 2009

2010

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Turkey mediates four rounds of indirect talks between Israel and Syria. Protocols are signed by Turkey and Armenia on the normalization of relations. Turkey establishes Strategic Cooperation Councils with Iraq and Syria. The EU Treaty of Lisbon enters into force. The Committee on Foreign Affairs of the US Congress passes a second resolution recognizing the Armenian genocide. Turkey-Israeli relations reach an all-time low following an Israeli attack on a Turkish vessel of Turkish and international activists carrying humanitarian aid to Gaza in which eight Turkish citizens are killed.

| Chronology

Acknowledgments

This book is the result of two research projects, which built upon one another. The research began with a two-year project carried out by the Istituto Affari Internazionali (IAI) in Rome and the Turkish Economic Policy Research Foundation (TEPAV) in 2006–8, with the generous support of the Union of Chambers and Commodity Exchanges of Turkey (TOBB), the Open Society Institute Assistance Foundation–Turkey (OSIAF–Turkey), the Compagnia San Paolo, and the German Marshall Fund of the United States (GMF–US). The project—‘Talking Turkey’—resulted in two edited volumes (N. Tocci, ed., Conditionality, Impact and Prejudice in EU-Turkey Relations, Quaderno IAI, 2007, http://www.iai.it/sections/pubblicazioni/ iai_quaderni/Indici/quaderno_E_09.htm; and N. Tocci, ed. Talking Turkey in Europe: Towards a Differentiated Communication Strategy, Quaderno IAI, 2008, http://www.iai.it/sections/pubblicazioni/iai_quaderni/Indici/ quaderno_E_13.htm). ‘Talking Turkey’ aimed at uncovering European public debates on Turkey, focusing in particular on debates in Austria, Denmark, France, Germany, Greece, Italy, Poland, Slovenia, and the United Kingdom. Chapter 3 in particular highlights some of the principal findings of this research. In its final phase, Talking Turkey also began scratching the surface of the US influence on European public debates on Turkey. This line of research then became the principal focus of a second project, carried out during my ten-month fellowship at the Transatlantic Academy in Washington, DC. During my fellowship at the Academy, supported by the German Marshall Fund of the United States, the Ebelin and Gerd Bucerius ZEIT-Stiftung, the Robert Bosch Foundation, and the Bradley Foundation, I was able to explore further the many strands of American influence on EU-Turkey relations as well as complete the writing of this manuscript. Beyond the generous support of these funders, I would also like to thank all those who have kindly agreed to be interviewed for this project in the United States, Europe, including Turkey, as well as in Israel, Palestine, and |

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Syria. I would also like to thank all those colleagues who read and commented on successive drafts of this manuscript, including the anonymous reviewers arranged by NYU Press and the Brookings Institution, which kindly organized a seminar in which I presented and discussed the findings of this book. In particular, my thanks go to my colleagues at the Transatlantic Academy and in particular to Kemal Kirişci, Juliette Tolay, and Joshua Walker, as well as to Emiliano Alessandri, Henri Barkey, Thomas Diez, and Soli Özel, who took the time and effort to meticulously go through the manuscript, offering their precious advice. Needless to say, all responsibility for the outcome, including its shortcomings, is my own. I would also like to thank Alice Alunni for her dedicated research assistance, Nicole Koenig for her work on the index, and Aiden Amos and NYU Press for their support of this project. Finally, I would like to thank my husband, Enrique, who, as always, has tirelessly supported me throughout this process, bearing with all my ups and downs along the way.

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| Acknowledgments

Preface

It is striking how often Turkey is mentioned in transatlantic debates over a wide variety of strategic questions. While being a critical partner of both the United States and the European Union, Turkey is viewed very differently on both sides of the Atlantic. For the US, Turkey has been, at least since the inception of the Cold War, a strategic ally. Because of this and because of the centrality of Turkey in a myriad of American foreign policy interests and objectives, there has also been close-to-unanimous US support for Turkey’s European integration. Numerous indeed are the benefits that the US sees in Turkey’s European integration. In Europe, on the other hand, views of and approaches to Turkey are significantly more varied. Testimony to the commitment of both Turkey and the European Union to ever closer ties between the two is the fact that Turkey has been associated with the European integration project almost since its inception and, on the eve of the new century, has been admitted to the EU enlargement process. Aside from all the European and Turkish concerns and uncertainties, the EU enlargement process remains the only official framework for the conduct of relations between Turkey and the European Union. But this does not suggest that there is a hard EU consensus on the desirability of Turkey’s full membership. European debates about Turkey have been varied and have oscillated over time. They have very often acted as proxies of far broader concerns and issues, which drive to the very heart of the European integration process. From a European perspective, Turkey’s EU accession process is fundamentally contested. On the grounds of these premises, this book sets out to explore how the US, as the first and foremost partner of both the EU and Turkey, has influenced the long and tortured love affair between the two. In doing so, this book does not limit itself to examining how the US has willingly attempted to foster Turkey’s European integration. This is an important story to be told. But it does not capture all the intricacies underpinning the triangle linking the US, Turkey, and the EU together. In order to make sense of the complex |

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dynamics in this three-way relationship, this book also addresses the many indirect, undeliberate, and at times unconscious avenues through which the US has in practice influenced the evolution of EU-Turkey relations. It does so in order both to explore the multifaceted dynamics tying together these three transatlantic allies, as well as to offer policy suggestions to those in the US who remain firmly committed to Turkey’s path to Europe.

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1 Squaring the Triangle Understanding American Influence

Turkey is of paramount importance to the United States (US) and to the European Union (EU). In the US, Turkey was viewed as a critical ally throughout the Cold War and has been considered a ‘strategic’ and ‘model’ partner since then. In Europe, Turkey has been an integral part of the continent’s centuries-long history and has enjoyed structured relations with the European integration project almost since its inception. Turkey’s ties to the US and to the EU have not proceeded along parallel paths, but they have been intimately linked. The US is not only the first and foremost partner of both the EU and Turkey. It is also among the most ardent and committed supporters of Turkey’s European integration. Rarely does a transatlantic meeting go by without Turkey featuring in the discussion. Whether discussion revolves around a question regarding nuclear proliferation, the Middle East, Russia, the Black Sea, energy, or democracy promotion, Turkey is guaranteed to emerge in transatlantic debates. Setting aside crisis countries and regions, Turkey ranks among the most constantly salient items on the transatlantic political and strategic agenda. In support of Turkey’s European integration, Washington has set forth a variety of arguments and has attempted to influence EU decisions at critical moments during Turkey’s turbulent march to Europe. But this is only the beginning of the story to be told. American influence on Turkey’s relationship with Europe is multifaceted, operating at different levels, taking different forms, and surfacing with varying intensities. It has been direct and indirect, conscious and unconscious, and its outcomes have been both intended and unintended at different points in time. The role of the United States is a key element in the dynamics between Turkey and the EU. To date, it has not been thoroughly investigated. The purpose of this book is to tell this complex story, understanding whether, when, and why the United States has shaped the course of relations |

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between two of its principal partners: the EU and Turkey. Through this lens, this book unpacks the broader links between these three actors, shedding light on the triangle tying together the US, Turkey, and the EU. While covering the evolution of relations among the three over the course of the twentieth century and beyond, the main time frame investigated in this book is that since the late 1980s, when Turkey’s relationship with the EU deepened through Ankara’s application for European Community membership in 1987. In analysing this triangular relationship, this book speaks to three broad strands of literatures. First and foremost, this is a book about US foreign policy and transatlantic relations locating itself within this diverse literature (see, for example, Hamilton 2010; Levy, Pensky, and Torpey 2005; Peterson and Pollack 2003; Pollack and Shaffer 2001), insofar as it uncovers the dynamics between America and Europe regarding a principal agenda item in their relationship: Turkey. In this respect, Turkey is considered as an object rather than as a subject in the analysis. Second, and focusing on Europe, this is a book about EU enlargement (see, for example, Sjursen 2006; Grabbe 2005; Smith 2004; Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier 2005). Third and finally, this is a book about Turkey, Turkey’s relations with the EU and with the US, as well as Turkish foreign policy (see, for example, Aydın and Çağrı 2004; Hale 2007; Arikan 2006; Joseph 2006; Müftüler-Baç and Stivachtis 2008; Arvanitopoulos 2009; LaGro and Jorgensen 2007; Bozdağlioğlu 2003; Robins 2003a; Bal 2004; Martin and Keridis 2004). Turkey is thus also a subject and agent in this book, in that it reacts to American-induced developments in the EU, in the neighborhood, and in Turkey itself. By addressing the broad dynamics between the US, Turkey, and the EU, this book thus fills an important gap in our understanding of transatlantic politics, EU enlargement, and Turkey.

Setting the Context: Turkey’s Tortuous Path to Europe Before proceeding with the subject and questions at the heart of this book, let us step back and set the context of EU-Turkey relations. Turkey and the EU are bound by a curious love affair. Both have always aimed at deepening relations, yet the precise interpretation of what this would entail has been highly contested. It is this odd mix between a shared commitment to each other and widely varying interpretations within (and between) both sides as to what this would mean that underpins Turkey’s tortuous path to Europe. Turkey’s first contractual relationship with the then European Economic Community (EEC) dates back to 1963, with the signature of the Association Agreement. This agreement envisaged the establishment of a customs union 2

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between Turkey and the Community and opened the door to Turkey’s full membership if and when the political and economic conditions in Turkey were met. In 1987, following the gradual political stabilization and economic liberalization after the 1980 military coup in Turkey, Ankara submitted a formal request for full membership. But partly because of the Community’s internal task of completing the single market and partly because of the problematic state of Turkish democracy and the mounting violence in Turkey’s southeast at the time, in 1989 Ankara’s application was rejected by the European Commission and Turkey’s European future was put on hold. Although the application was rejected, the door for Turkey was left open, as the Commission in its 1989 Opinion confirmed Turkey’s eligibility for membership. The end of the Cold War brought about radical changes to Turkey’s environment. Turkey’s role as western bulwark against Soviet expansionism ended, ushering in the way to a new period of mounting instability in the Middle East and Eurasia (Larrabee and Lesser 2001). Turkey consequently underwent an intense period of soul-searching, assessing alternative geostrategic options such as pan-Turkism or regional leadership in the Middle East and Eurasia (Landau 1995). Ultimately, the domestic debate converged on a renewed emphasis on the EU project by the mid-1990s. Turkish political démarches intensified, lobbying for inclusion in the EU custom union. The Union accepted, and in 1996 the EU-Turkey customs union entered into force, marking the beginning of higher levels of economic integration and, in Ankara’s eyes, the prelude to membership. Nevertheless, the positive atmosphere created by the customs union agreement deteriorated rapidly in 1997. Despite strong pressure from Ankara to upgrade EU-Turkey relations into the accession process, the 1997 European Council in Luxemburg underlined that Turkey did not meet the standards for candidacy. It offered instead a ‘European strategy’ based on the exploitation of the integration prospects foreseen under existing contractual relations—the Association Agreement. Unlike 1989, this second rejection, together with the EU’s finger-pointing at Turkey’s domestic deficiencies, was perceived in Turkey as a clear case of discrimination, given that the political and economic situation in the Eastern European candidate countries at the time was certainly not enviable. In response, Turkey froze its political dialogue with the Union and threatened to withdraw its membership application and integrate with the unrecognized Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (Tocci 2004, 65–93). The goal of full membership was not abandoned, however, and the Turkish establishment began displaying a dichotomous approach to the Union, which would consolidate in the years Understanding American Influence

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ahead. While the government stepped up its campaign to obtain candidacy, the domestic political debate was rife with criticism of the Union, accusing Europe of double standards and of acting as if it were a ‘Christian club’.1 The tide turned with the December 1999 Helsinki European Council, when Turkey’s long-sought candidacy was recognized (Öniş 2003). Given the downturn in EU-Turkey relations in the 1997–99 period, the member states acutely felt the need to move EU-Turkey relations forward, and there was a growing sense within the Union of the need ‘not to lose Turkey’. The European Council in Helsinki recognized Turkey’s candidacy, but stopped short of opening accession negotiations, arguing that the country first had to fulfil the Copenhagen political criteria for membership.2 In turn, the Commission was given a mandate to monitor progress in Turkey’s domestic performance and to draft a first Accession Partnership for Turkey, recommending areas for Turkish reform. The EU also adapted its financial assistance to Turkey, redirecting aid to provide more explicit support for Turkey’s political, social, administrative, and economic reforms. The acceleration of Turkey’s reform momentum particularly after late 2001 spilled into EU-Turkey relations, especially when the Copenhagen European Council in December 2002 concluded that it would determine whether and when to open accession negotiations with Turkey in December 2004 (Tocci and Evin 2004). The approaching green light for the opening of negotiations set the target and the timeline in the reform program of the new Justice and Development Party (AKP) government elected in November 2002. Turkey’s progress in reforms under the first AKP government meant that the December 2004 European Council’s verdict was that Turkey ‘sufficiently’ fulfilled the political criteria and that accession talks could begin in October 2005. EU actors, however, appreciated the need to sustain Turkey’s reform process throughout the course of the negotiations. Hence, the European Council foresaw a continuing EU role in determining Turkey’s reform priorities through updated accession partnerships, monitoring compliance through the Commission’s progress reports, and threatening to suspend negotiations in the event of a backtracking of the reform process. In addition, the negotiating chapter on the ‘judiciary and fundamental rights’ impinged directly on ongoing political reforms. All seemed in place for the virtuous circle between Turkey’s domestic reform and EU integration to continue. Yet since the opening of accession negotiations in 2005, the 1999–2005 golden years in EU-Turkey relations have come to a (temporary) halt, as the relationship has slipped back into a vicious dynamic more closely resembling the 1997–99 period. Turkey’s accession negotiations have proceeded at 4

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a snail’s pace, with 13 (out of 35) chapters opened by mid-2011 and only one chapter (science and research) provisionally closed. In 2006, eight chapters were ‘frozen’ by the EU on the grounds of Turkey’s non-implementation of the Additional Protocol to its customs union agreement, which foresees the opening of Turkish ports and airports to Republic of Cyprus-flagged vessels and flights.3 The EU also declared that lest Turkey implement the Additional Protocol, no chapter would be provisionally closed. In 2007, France blocked the opening of an additional five chapters on the shaky grounds that they were too evidently related to full EU membership, to which French President Nicolas Sarkozy is openly opposed.4 In 2009, in view of Turkey’s persisting non-implementation of the Protocol, the Republic of Cyprus vetoed five more chapters, including the energy chapter which had already been blocked due to a dispute with Turkey over oil exploration rights.5 Insofar as Turkey links its extension of the customs union to southern Cyprus to progress in the Cyprus peace process or at the very least to the lifting of the EU’s isolation of northern Cyprus—an unkept promise by the EU since the 2004 failure of the UN-brokered ‘Annan Plan’6—the Cyprus quagmire is becoming increasingly entangled with EU-Turkey relations. Since the turn of the century, Turkey has thus been part of the EU accession process. For all candidates before Turkey, this process has always and only culminated in full membership. Yet in Turkey’s case, the accession path is fraught with roadblocks and hurdles, making the final destination uncertain at best.

American and European Approaches towards Turkey: An Uneven Fit With this context in mind, let us turn to the subject of this book: the triangular relationship between the United States, Turkey, and the European Union. Over the ebbs and flows of Turkey’s tortuous path to Europe, the US, as the foremost partner of both Turkey and the EU, has watched carefully the evolution of the relationship and has had a constant say in its development. However, its views, positions, and arguments have often been distinct from those heard in both the EU and Turkey. Approaches towards Turkey on both sides of the Atlantic have, at best, only partially overlapped. As far as the US and the EU are concerned, this is because of the fundamental difference between the natures of these two actors. The US is a nation-state, which while large and federal, is nonetheless a state. In turn, the American debate on Turkey is marked by a level of homoUnderstanding American Influence

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geneity, consistency, predictability, and resolve that is hard to find in Europe. As explored in chapter 2, there is no shortage of Turkey stakeholders in the US, rendering the debate on Turkey rich and multifaceted. But in comparison to the EU, the number of actors, debates, interests, and ideas concerning Turkey is confined. Unlike the US, the EU is a sui generis political entity in-the-making. As explained in chapter 3, European debates and policies on Turkey match the complexity of the EU itself, reflecting the Rubik’s Cube of interlocking member state positions and their evolution over time. In fact, there is no ‘EU’ debate on Turkey. The Union’s stance towards Turkey is the product of continuously negotiated intra-EU bargains and interlocking European debates oscillating over time. These negotiations and debates take place between member states and within EU institutions. Most critically, they are held within member states. Hence, not only do we need to consider debates between the French, Germans, British, or Italians in the Council of Ministers and with the European Commission. We also need to explore where foreign ministries, businesses, trade unions, and civil society actors stand within these countries, alongside how these positions are articulated in trans-European groupings such as the political families of the European Parliament or the Confederation of European Businesses. This entails a complex mosaic of subnational, national, and supranational stakeholders in the political, economic, security, and social realms, which push and pull in different directions, for reasons at times related to Turkey, at times not. The sheer number of actors involved dictates that the issues covered and the positions articulated when debating Turkey (or indeed any other issue) are far greater and more varied compared to the US. A second reason for the uneven fit in European and American views about Turkey relates to history and geography. American encounters with Turkey have a relatively short history, dating back to the late days of the Ottoman Empire when Americans pursued limited trade with the Empire and Protestant missionaries engaged in education and health projects in Turkey. By contrast, in the post–World War II period, Turkish-American relations have been grounded on a solid strategic basis, because of Turkey’s geography at the heart of where American foreign policy interests lie (Larrabee and Lesser 2001). As we shall see, the American approach to Turkey has changed over the years, as has the US’s appreciation of Turkey’s significance, its support for Turkey, and the interests and logic driving American policies towards Turkey. But Turkey, situated on the other side of the Atlantic and with a relatively small and loosely organized Turkish-American community, will always be viewed as a matter of foreign rather than of 6

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domestic policy in the US. Whether related to geopolitics, security, energy, or trade, Washington will always view Turkey through a foreign policy lens. The same cannot be said for Europe. Turkey is and always has been part of Europe’s complex history and geography (Deringil 2007). Regardless of what EU citizens and leaders think of Turkey’s place in Europe, it is precisely an appreciation of Turkey’s European history that lies at the crux of European perceptions (and misperceptions) about Turkey. Whether what prevails in European collective memories is the ‘Battle of Vienna syndrome’ or the centuries of shared history from the Greek and Roman civilizations to this day, Turkey is viewed as an integral element of Europe’s selfunderstanding. Hence, debating Turkey in Europe does not entail only a discussion of foreign policy interests, norms, and objectives. The European debate/s about Turkey is/are part and parcel of the debate about Europe itself (Rumelili 2004). Third, whereas the US deals with Turkey through the institutions, interests, and instruments of its foreign policymaking machinery, the same does not hold for the EU since Turkey entered the EU enlargement process. This partly explains why there was a far greater fit between American and European approaches towards Turkey up until December 1999, when Turkey was granted EU candidate status. With its entry into the accession process, Turkey no longer falls squarely onto the European foreign policy map, strictly defined by the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). While certainly driving at the heart of critical geopolitical and security questions for Europe, the subject matter of Turkey’s EU accession negotiations deals with technicalities in a wide range of domestic policy sectors such as competition, taxation, industry, and agriculture. Consequently, internal EU and member state questions have moved up the list of priorities when debating Turkey in Europe. When it comes to enlargement, it is not only (and not even principally) the broadly defined European foreign policy community that is mobilized for or against Turkey, but a far larger set of actors with different objectives, interests, and beliefs. Hence, differences in history, geography, political organization, and policy frameworks between the US and the EU all point to a structural mismatch in American and European approaches towards Turkey. This imperfect fit opens the scope for our enquiry. Given on the one hand the US’s close ties with the EU and Turkey and its active interest in EU-Turkey relations, and on the other, the imperfect overlap in American and European approaches to Turkey, the core question tackled in this book is: how has the US influenced Turkey’s path to the European Union? Understanding American Influence

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US Influence on EU-Turkey Relations: Who Does America Speak To? Exploring the links between the US, the EU, and Turkey and specifically American influence on EU-Turkey relations opens up three further corollary questions explored in the course of this book. A first corollary question is: who does the US speak to in the EU regarding Turkey? To answer this question, this book maps the stakeholders on both sides of the Atlantic, explaining their positions, arguments, and underlying interests and beliefs as far as Turkey is concerned. It does so by highlighting the contours of the discursive fit and misfit in European and American discourses on Turkey. These contours hint at what may be the potential as well as the limits of direct American influence on EU-Turkey relations. Suffice it to say here that American stakeholders are likely to figuratively ‘speak the same language’ as a subset of European counterparts who also are primarily concerned with strategic and foreign policy questions. The mental frames, agendas, ideas, and interests may be shared between American stakeholders and European foreign ministries, foreign affairs committees in parliaments, international affairs think tanks and large businesses engaged in trade with and investment in Turkey. This does not mean that American stakeholders share the same positions as these European interlocutors as far as Turkey’s EU membership prospects are concerned. However, by being concerned with similar themes, they are more likely to engage in meaningful transatlantic debate on Turkey, thus opening the scope for exchange and reciprocal influence. In view of this, a second corollary question is: how have American stakeholders influenced directly those European counterparts which view Turkey through a similar lens (i.e., debate Turkey by focusing on similar themes) though not necessarily sharing the same positions? In other words, when the American and European debates have overlapped, albeit imperfectly, how has the US influenced European views on and policies towards Turkey? When and why did American influence play a positive role in bolstering EUTurkey relations and when did US advocacy backfire? When it comes instead to other European stakeholders whose debates on Turkey are detached from the American ones, does this mean that the US has no influence at all? Is it simply the match and mismatch in transatlantic debates on Turkey that determines the contours of transatlantic interactions and influences regarding Turkey? Arguably not. Whereas the extent to which America influences European debates, positions, and policies on Turkey directly is important yet limited, indirect forms of influence are also critical. 8

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Direct and Indirect Forms of US Influence on EU-Turkey Relations As the preceding paragraph has anticipated, the questions tackled in this book would stop somewhere here were we to consider only how American stakeholders have engaged directly with their European counterparts regarding Turkey. There is indeed a rich story to be told about how American diplomacy on Turkey has influenced EU institutions, member states, and specific European stakeholders over the years. This book delves into this story, enquiring when and why US advocacy was successful and when instead it backfired. On what occasions was US advocacy effective? What arguments were raised? Was US advocacy pursued through instances of public diplomacy or through quiet dialogue with particular member states and institutions? How did changing political contexts at the international, regional, and national levels affect the European responses to American advocacy? However, limiting ourselves to exploring the direct forms of US engagement with EU counterparts would only capture part of the story and would fail to shed light on the broader dynamics in US-EU-Turkey relations. Influence may also be exerted through indirect channels and relationships: it can be exercised at a ‘social distance’ (Barnett and Duvall 2005). Insofar as indirect forms of influence often entail a multitude of actors and a longer time frame between cause and effect, they are harder to map as a traceable line linking A (the US) to B (EU-Turkey relations). Yet in view of the ‘uneven fit’ between the EU and the US regarding Turkey, it is critical to broaden the scope of our enquiry to include also indirect channels of influence. A third corollary question tackled in this book is therefore: what are the indirect ways in which the US—deliberately or undeliberately, consciously or unconsciously—influences European approaches to Turkey? Precisely because both American and European debates about Turkey cover a broad range of questions on which the US, nolens volens, impinges on, American influence on EU-Turkey relations must be conceived broadly. Moreover, exploring the direct and indirect forms of American influence on EU-Turkey relations sheds light on the wider dynamics linking the US, the EU, and Turkey together, as well as on the larger context in which this triangular relationship unfolds. Beyond the direct US-EU level, America can be viewed as influencing EU-Turkey relations on two indirect levels. One indirect form of influence is exercised in the context of the US-Turkey relationship. American-Turkish relations, while not sharing the historical depth of European-Turkish relations, have been extremely close, yet not without difficulties. The US for example has played a key role in shaping Turkey’s self-representations in Understanding American Influence

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Europe, from being a barrier against Soviet expansionism to a bridge to the Middle East and Eurasia (Lesser 2006). The US has also influenced Turkey’s domestic political evolution, Turkey’s foreign and defence policies, and, most critically, Turkish national security questions such as Cyprus, the Kurdish or the Armenian questions. All these issues have had considerable impact on Turkey’s relations with the European Union. Another form of indirect American influence is played out through American foreign policy in Turkey’s neighborhood, particularly in the Balkans, the Caspian, and the Middle East. This book thus also explores when and why American policy in Turkey’s neighborhood, both to the north and south, has influenced European approaches towards Turkey. Simply stated, whereas Europeans broadly conceive of Eastern Europe, the Balkans, and the Caucasus by and large as falling within the scope of ‘Europe’ (although not necessarily the EU), the same does not apply to the Middle East, which is considered almost unanimously as falling beyond the confines of Europe. While there is acute disagreement in Europe on the definition of the EU’s nature and identity, there is a broad-brush consensus that the Union cannot extend indefinitely. The discord in Europe is caused by where the EU’s borders should lie and what their nature should be (hard vs. soft, boundaries vs. borderlands, single vs. multiple), not whether there should be borders at all. Consequently, American policies towards and discursive representations of the ‘wider Europe’ influence European conceptions of the EU, of Turkey, and of Turkey’s place in Europe. Has American policy and discourse tended to present Turkey more as a European partner or as a Middle Eastern ally? How have these two conceptions overlapped and interacted and how has this influenced European approaches towards Turkey?

Influence and Power in US-EU-Turkey Relations: Material, Ideational, and Discursive So far this chapter has sketched who and on whom influence is exerted as well as on what level influence may be exerted in the US-EU-Turkey triangle. It has argued that European stakeholders on Turkey may be influenced directly by their American counterparts, but much of this influence plays out also through indirect channels, which relate to the realms of US-Turkey relations as well as US policy in Turkey’s neighborhood. A final dimension, to which the rest of this chapter is devoted, is how the US can exert its influence in the EU-Turkey relationship. Probing into how influence is exerted leads us to explore the complex and multifaceted concept of power: through which forms of power 10

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does the US influence the EU directly and how does it influence indirectly the EU’s relationship with Turkey? Drawing on different strands of international relations theory, this book focuses on three principal expressions of power: material, ideational, and discursive. The aim of the following section is not to present a theory or theoretical hypotheses to be validated or refuted over the course of this book. It is rather to articulate a set of theory-informed empirical questions to guide the analysis in the following chapters.

Material Power A first form of American influence on EU-Turkey relations is exerted through material forms of power on Turkey and on Turkey’s neighborhood. What does material power consist in? Here the focus is on the American state’s mobilization of material resources in order to obtain particular outcomes in the international realm. These resources include military expenditure, the size and strength of the army, the size of the country, its population, its natural resources (Waltz 1979; Mearsheimer 2001), its economic wealth, industrial capacity, and technological resources (Gilpin 1981, 13), as well as its domestic institutions (Schmidt 2005). Material power does not amount to material resources per se, but rather to the transformative potential of such resources to bring about particular outcomes (Hindess 1996, 25). In other words, material power is understood in relational and outcome-oriented terms: as Robert Dahl (1957, 202) put it: ‘A has power over B to the extent that he can get B to do something that B would not otherwise do’. Interpreted in this light, power, or as some would define it, ‘compulsory power’ (Diez, Stetter, and Albert 2006), is exerted by altering the payoff matrix of the recipient country on which power is exerted. This can be done through a variety of means, some of which are more coercive and intrusive than others, but all of which revolve around the notion of altering the cost-benefit calculus of the recipient. Hence, power may be exercised by opening the space for particular options or excluding other options on decision makers’ agenda (Bachrach and Baratz 1962). The means to do so include military force, economic sanctions, and coercive diplomacy. However, the means can also include financial aid, market access, technical assistance, or diplomatic recognition. Rather than simply being deployed, these punishments and rewards may also be threatened or promised conditionally in order to induce a particular behavior in the recipient country and thus yield a specific outcome (Cortright 1997; Dorussen 2001; Krasner 1993, 340). To the extent that the promise/threat is viewed as being valuable/costly as well as being credible, A is expected to induce the desired Understanding American Influence

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outcome in B’s behavior. We can in fact think of a continuum of expressions of material power, ranging from less intrusive methods such as the granting or promising of rewards, to the threat or infliction of punishments, ending with the most coercive means of the use of force (Holsti 1995, 125–26). Applied to the case of US-EU-Turkey relations, the concept of material power opens a set of questions to pursue over the course of this book. What was the effect of the deployment of American material power in Turkey’s neighborhood? How did the Gulf War, the Iraq War, and the US-led North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) interventions in Bosnia and Kosovo indirectly affect Turkey-EU relations? How have these instances of material power shaped European perceptions regarding where the borders of the European Union should lie? How have they affected Turkish foreign policy and what have been the ensuing repercussions in the EU? Did these expressions of American material power in the neighborhood empower more those who appreciated the need for Europe to act in its turbulent backyard or those who preferred to protect the European comfort zone from the ‘East’ through buffer state Turkey? Have expressions of American material power in the Middle East and in the Balkans bolstered the understanding of Turkey as a ‘privileged outsider’ or a ‘natural insider’ in Europe? Turning instead to expressions of material power exercised through economic incentives in the context of US-Turkey relations, how have European stakeholders reacted to US economic promises and rewards to Turkish governments? Did these economic incentives inform the narrative that Turkey would act as an American ‘Trojan horse’ in Europe set to hamper the European political project? If so, who espoused this narrative in Europe and how was the representation of American economic leverage used to validate it? Conversely, what was the European reaction to Turkey’s rejection of American demands (and accompanying economic rewards) on the occasion of its ‘no’ vote in March 2003 to the US request to use Turkish territory for a second front attack on Iraq? Did Turkey’s greater independence from the United States in the foreign policy realm trigger a re-conceptualization of Turkey’s role in Europe and, if so, how and by whom? If not, why not?

Ideational Power Power, of course, is and can be exerted also through non-material resources: power can be ideational. States can thus promote particular norms, policies, decisions, and actions by other actors through argumentation, socialization, and persuasion. Ideational power resources include 12

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national character and morale, the quality of diplomacy and government (Morgenthau 1954), prestige and moral leadership (Gilpin 1981, 34), as well as the power over opinion (Carr 1939). In particular, the power over opinion is intimately related to the legitimacy of the actor in question (Keohane 1984, 39). Whereas material power is concerned with the ‘capacity to act’, ideational power relates to the perceived ‘right to act’ and hinges on the legitimacy of the actor and the accompanying consent of those upon whom power is exerted (Hindess 1996). America’s ideational power is explored in depth in Joseph Nye’s work on ‘soft power’, which also places prime value on legitimacy (Nye 1990, 2004). The argument here is that if power means the ability to get the outcomes one wants, then soft power means the ability to get the outcomes one wants through attraction rather than coercion or payments (Nye 2004). Attraction entails the appeal of US political ideals and policies. Appeal entails legitimacy: ‘when our policies are seen as legitimate in the eyes of others, our soft power is enhanced’ (Nye 2004, x). Appeal and legitimacy in turn yield respect, emulation, and a sense of duty in others towards what are perceived as being shared values, identities, interests, and objectives. Hence the US achieves a particular policy outcome not by coercing Turkey or the EU, but by co-opting them through public, bilateral, and multilateral diplomacy (Nye 2004, 31). Put differently, ideational power is the power to socialize others into altering their substantive beliefs and ‘buying into’ particular norms, decisions, and policies (Ikenberry and Kupchan 1990). The line of causality starts with norm persuasion, which triggers normative change, which ends in policy and behavioral change. Following this line of thought, what has been the effect of American attempts at persuading Europeans of the benefits of closer ties with Turkey? What is the importance of American legitimacy in Europe in determining the effectiveness of American arguments? How have the ebbs and flows in US legitimacy in Europe over the Clinton, Bush, and Obama administrations influenced the effectiveness of American advocacy on EU-Turkey relations since the 1990s? Can we argue that when American legitimacy is high in Europe, Europeans are more prone to heeding American arguments, whereas at times of transatlantic rift Europeans become more cynical about and aloof to American cajoling? However, to the extent that ideational power is relational and depends on the ‘consent’ of the recipient country, a set of conditions must also hold within the latter. It is not simply the inherent legitimacy or appeal of American foreign policy that matters, but also the manner in which it is perceived by those upon whom it is exerted. The international, regional, and domesUnderstanding American Influence

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tic contexts of the recipients are critical. Hence, for example, when there is widespread disapproval of the status quo within a recipient country, there is a greater propensity to buy into external (i.e., US) norms, ideas, and policies. If a country is generally dissatisfied with its leadership and policies, it is more likely to be receptive to the ideational power exerted from abroad (Ikenberry and Kupchan 1990). More broadly, at times of crisis and transition, elites and publics may be more inclined to accept ideas and policies suggested from outside. Applying this argument to our case, we may thus explore, for example, whether during the global flux of the early post–Cold War years, the EU was more receptive to the soft influence of the United States regarding the management of its relations with Turkey as a result of a greater receptiveness to external ideas at that time. Likewise, in the 1990s the ideational power of the US regarding energy policy in the Caspian and Turkey’s role in it—an important element in Turkey’s ties to the EU—may have been higher than in the 2000s, when many post-Soviet states appear to have re-stabilized under Russia’s ‘sphere of influence’. At the same time, it is also essential for the ideas and norms promoted by the US to ‘resonate’ within the recipient country’s historical, institutional, political, and socioeconomic contexts. Hence, we may expect different member states with different relationships with the US and different ideas of Europe to respond differently to American approaches to the EU, Turkey, and Turkey’s neighborhood. For example, are member states which are traditionally more ‘Atlanticist’—such as the United Kingdom, Italy, Poland, or Romania—also more receptive to American arguments, than others which have adopted a more critical position towards the US—such as France or Greece? Are European stakeholders who espouse a more ‘Atlanticist’ vision of the European Union more prone to heeding American arguments than those promoting the concept of a ‘Europeanist’ Europe? On a different level, we may also explore whether the reduced resonance of American norms in the Middle East as a result of the war in Iraq in 2003 generated a decline in American ideational power, which created a vacuum that Turkey has attempted to fill, raising both interest and concern in Europe. Delving deeper into the analysis, it is also important to note that domestic actors within a recipient country may assess differently the value of particular norms and policies promoted from abroad. Domestic stakeholders have different aims, strategies, and tactics, which are driven by different historical, economic, and political interests and understandings (Dorussen 2001). Furthermore, the balance between domestic stakeholders with different worldviews may change over time. Indeed what may trigger attraction for 14

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some may generate repulsion in others (Nye 2004, 12–13). Repulsion may come about when values or positions are promoted from abroad through arrogance, unilateralism, or even aggression. Hence, we might hypothesize that when American officials engage with European counterparts in debate about Turkey cautiously, conditionally, and behind closed doors, the European reaction is more positive than when the US publicly preaches to Europeans regarding Turkey’s EU membership or blames the EU for not being farsighted enough when it comes to Turkey. But is this always the case? Does repulsion come about also from a rejection of the message per se and not only from a rejection of the messenger or the means he or she uses? We might hypothesize for example that, despite the widespread appeal of President Barack Obama across the political spectrum in Europe (Transatlantic Trends 2009), the American president’s appeal for a multicultural Europe in which Turkey would be a notable asset (Obama 2009) simply may not resonate nowadays in Europe. Despite the subtlety of the president’s tone and his widespread appeal across the Atlantic, a lack of response may be the result of the normative mismatch between President Obama’s multicultural ideals and the views of a conservative Europe, as evidenced by the overwhelming predominance of the European People’s Party at the 2009 European Parliament elections, for example. Another important dimension of ideational power is its relationship with material power. Whereas ideational power does not necessarily rest on material power, the two are often interconnected and complementary (Nye 2004; Ikenberry and Kupchan 1990, 284). The capacity to act may exist on a par with the legitimacy to act (Hindess 1996). In addition, it is often coercion that leads to policy change, which then translates into ideational change. Ideational change ensues because a recipient is induced to resolve the situation of cognitive dissonance (between its ‘old’ ideas and its ‘new’ policy conduct) in which it finds itself. Having been materially coerced into changing actual behavior, the recipient finds itself obliged to ‘buy into’ the new ideas which legitimize its new behavior. Here the line of causation is reversed, starting with external coercion (material power), which triggers policy change, which is followed by normative adaptation and assimilation (ideational power). Hence, in order to effectively exert ideational power, the US must have the material power to induce others to accept new rules and norms. An interesting area to explore in this respect is that of US ideational power on Turkey’s reform process, which in turn is intimately linked to Turkey’s European integration. American ideational power has manifested itself with respect to efforts at Turkish-Armenian reconciliation for example. To what Understanding American Influence

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extent has the threat of the US Congress’s approval of the resolution recognizing the 1915 Armenian genocide been hidden behind the veil of American diplomacy? Likewise, the US has actively encouraged a resolution of Turkey’s Kurdish question. Does material power loom behind US ideational power, exerted through US-Turkey military cooperation in the fight against the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) and the US’s military withdrawal from Iraq? We need not accept a hard-nosed understanding of the relationship between material and ideational power. The legitimacy and moral standing of an international player certainly do play a role in explaining its ability to exert ideational power: ‘rule based on might is enhanced by rule based on right’ (Ikenberry and Kupchan 1990, 286). Yet even if ideational power does not merely emanate from material power, the relationship between material and ideational power suggests that the latter may not be as ‘soft’ as often presented (Bially Mattern 2005). Ideational power in fact does not rest on persuasion between subjects who engage in dialogue on the basis of a shared common ground (Barnett and Duvall 2005, 42). Ideational power is more akin to the state’s strategic manipulation of information, wants, interests, and beliefs, through publicity, information technology, and public diplomacy. These techniques help states shape agendas, determine ‘truths’, and present fake choices. A recipient country’s compliance is often not the product of agreement but rather is secured in view of its fear, insecurity, and deference (Lukes 2005). An example of this is former US President George Bush’s slogan in the context of the ‘War on Terror’: ‘you are either with us or against us’, a choice which left its victims no way out (Bially Mattern 2005, 602). In the War on Terror, although the US did not materially threaten countries that refused to cooperate (e.g., over the war in Afghanistan or Iraq), it threatened exclusion from the designated peer group. For countries such as Jordan, dependence on the US is such that cooperation was ‘an offer they couldn’t refuse’. For countries such as France or Germany, the attempted exercise of ideational power failed to strike any chords. Turkey, partly by choice, partly by chance (Robins 2003b), fell into the second category of countries. Has this altered the view of Turkey in Europe, and if so, how?

Discursive Power The preceding paragraphs suggest that non-material expressions of power need not be only about the promotion of specific ideas, positions, or policies. Power can also be about the discursive articulation of mental frames, a priori assumptions, and ways of viewing the world. This takes 16

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us to a third expression of power—discursive power—and the relationship between power and knowledge (Gordon 1980). Power is not simply based on coercion (‘material power’) or socialization and persuasion (‘ideational power’). Power is also ‘productive’ (Bevir 1999). Power is exercised in the imposition of truths, in the marginalization of alternatives, and in the interpretation of content and of causality. It entails shaping identities and does so by defining the realm of the normal/abnormal, possible/impossible, right/wrong, healthy/sick, us/other (Foucault 1995, 327). In other words, this discursive understanding of power does not simply impose, constrain, and limit (material power). It not only promotes specific ideas, positions, and policies (ideational power). It also and above all produces identities and meanings (Digeser 1992, 987). There is thus a mutually constituting relationship between the production of knowledge and the exercise of power, whereby forms of knowledge set the contours and enable the articulation of power, while at the same time power defines dominant interpretations of truth and knowledge (Gordon 1980, 93). When power is conceptualized so broadly, it cannot be exercised by a single agent—the state—through its positions, policies, and rationalities. Unlike material and ideational power, which are predominantly centered around the state’s promotion of specific norms, policies, positions, and actions, discursive power is concerned with the construction of assumptions and ‘truths’, which cannot be determined by one actor alone. Power, conceptualized in this way, is believed to reside within as well as beyond the state, in the web of social interactions within and between different walks of life (Foucault 1995, 12). In our case, power resides in the interactions between a variety of ‘stakeholders’ such as governments, political parties, ministries, intellectuals, diasporas, businesses, media, churches, professional associations, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), all of which shape the mental frames, assumptions, and prisms through which we understand Turkey, Europe, and the relationship between them. Whereas a state can purposely exert material or ideational forms of power through a variety of techniques (ranging from war to diplomacy) with intended or unintended outcomes, discursive power involves a multitude of actors which collectively and interactively give rise to particular outcomes, consciously or otherwise. Applied to our case, whereas the US government can exert material or ideational power vis-à-vis the EU, Turkey, and the broader region to produce intended or unintended outcomes, a wider set of American stakeholders, collectively and interactively with European, Turkish, and other counterparts, define the contours of the possible in EU-Turkey relations. Understanding American Influence

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According to some readings, discursive power is believed not to reside in subjects at all, insofar as subjects are the very product of structures of power and knowledge. Power does not lie in their hands but rather in their social practices and interactions. Power is an unintended consequence of an intentional set of actions (Digeser 1992, 984). While recognizing that agents operate within and are shaped by structures of knowledge and power, we need not negate the role of agency altogether, and recognize instead that agents can also create and modify those very structures (Wendt 1987). Agents may be born within specific traditions, which act as a background to their beliefs and actions. Yet they can also modify, develop, or even reject and resist the traditions they come from (Bevir 1999; Foucault 1995, 325). Moral entrepreneurs can self-consciously ‘graft’ their discourse into extant bodies of norms, beliefs, and knowledge precisely in order to allow new ideas to enter the realm of the possible. Whereas stakeholders in Europe and America are shaped by the material and ideational structures in which they operate, they also collectively and interactively shape the discourses regarding Turkey and the European Union. Hence, whereas a discursive understanding of power explores how power produces identities, interests, and beliefs through social interactions, it also acknowledges the role of agents in giving rise to, shaping, or resisting those very structures. Following this interpretation of discursive power, how have American stakeholders, through their discourses and practices, contributed to shaping the frames of reference, assumptions, and commonly shared ‘truths’ about EU-Turkey relations favoring particular outcomes and disfavoring others? Which discursive representations have dominated and which have resonated most in Europe, including Turkey, and why? Over the course of the book we will explore three principal discursive representations of Turkey in Europe, as articulated by (but not only by) American officials, scholars, and opinion-shapers. These three discursive representations have co-existed with one another, yet their relative weight in the US has changed over time. The aim is to assess which of these discursive representations has resonated in the EU and Turkey, when, and why. The first is a geostrategic framing of Europe, Turkey, and Turkey in Europe. Here the EU is viewed as a strategic project in the context of the transatlantic alliance—hence the desirability of enlarging the Atlantic community via the enlargement of the European Union. In this light, the US has consistently supported the successive expansions of the EU, from the southern enlargement of the 1980s, to the northern enlargement of the 1990s, and the eastern enlargement of the 2000s. In this light, the US continues to sup18

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port EU enlargement to the Western Balkans and Turkey. If the right time were to come, it would probably support enlargement to Ukraine, Moldova, and the South Caucasus. Moreover, American stakeholders employ a specific geostrategic discourse when referring to Turkey’s EU accession, highlighting the strategic gains that this would bring to bear to the EU and thus to the Atlantic alliance. The concern is less that of forging a tightly knit European political community and more that of consolidating and expanding the Western alliance of nation-states. The second discursive frame of reference articulates the European identity as one based on the liberal values of openness, tolerance, rights, democracy, and multiculturalism, values that underpin the ‘West’ and bind America and Europe together. Hence, there arises the articulation of Europe (and America) as a community of liberal values intent on protecting and enshrining such values at home as well as promoting them abroad. The enlargement of the European Union in general and to Turkey in particular is framed in these terms. Enlargement is viewed as a means to promote liberal values by including new members into the European family of nation-states. In addition, enlargement to Turkey consolidates the European Union as a union of tolerance, openness, and multiculturalism, rather than a union of exclusive and exclusionary identities. Third and reversing this identity argument, the American discourse has diffused a discourse of civilizational geopolitics (Agnew 1998) in order to understand Europe, Turkey, and the world. This geo-civilizational frame of reference emerged in the wake of the end of the Cold War, as and when the dramatic shift in geopolitical and ideological contexts induced a search for new forms of identities and articulations of the ‘other’. As stated by leading American conservative Irving Kristol in 1990: ‘It is, after all, one’s enemies that help define one’s “national interest”’ (Kristol 1990). The new ‘other’ duly took form through the Huntingtonian interpretation of a ‘clash of civilizations’, which argued that: ‘The fundamental source of conflict in this new world will not be primarily ideological or primarily economic. The great divisions among humankind and the dominating source of conflict will be cultural’ (Huntington 1993, 22). Identities are thus defined according to ‘civilizations’, which, while characterized by features such as ethnicity, language, culture, and tradition, are above all identified according to religion: Western Christianity, Slavic-Orthodox, Confucianism, Hinduism, and Islam. These identities are then mapped upon different geographies, tracing the new geopolitical lines of conflict and cooperation. Huntington was not the only (nor the first) scholar within this American conservative tradition and followed others such as Bernard Lewis, who similarly argued in 1990 that: ‘This is no Understanding American Influence

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less than a clash of civilizations—the perhaps irrational but surely historic reaction of an ancient rival against our Judeo-Christian heritage, our secular present, and the world-wide expansion of both’ (Lewis 1990, 60). This Orientalist understanding of the world (Said 1978) is of course not limited to academia, but is found far more frequently in army barracks, government departments, the media, or Hollywood films (Irwin 2009). As argued by Guzzini (2005, 499): ‘Huntington’s “clash of civilizations” exemplifies the tight inter-relationship between knowledge and the social world. Whether or not the faultlines of conflict really have to be this way, if all people assume that they are and act accordingly, it becomes so’. The civilizational discourse has propagated the view, also held in Europe (including in Turkey), that the European Union is a ‘Christian club’ inclined to reject Turkey’s membership. Huntington argued that the ‘European Community rests on the shared foundation of European culture and Western Christianity’ (Huntington 1993, 27). Turkey, by contrast, is a ‘torn country’ (42), which ‘will not become a member of the European Community, and the real reason . . . is that [they] are Muslim and [we] are Christian and [we] don’t say that’ (42). Double standards are viewed as inevitable in Western/ Christian approaches towards other civilizations: ‘A world of clashing civilizations, however, is inevitably a world of double standards: people apply one standard to their kin-countries and a different standard to others’ (Huntington 1993, 36). Hence, the inevitability of the EU’s double standards towards Turkey, of which Turks regularly accuse European leaders. Despite its deterministic view of civilizations, their role and behavior, leading to the inevitable conclusion that Turkey will never enter the EU, this culturalist perspective has also authorized ‘ambitious schemes of political and social engineering based on short-term considerations while lacking any way of anticipating unexpected long-term consequences’ (Owen 2009). According to Ish-Shalom (2007) there is an inherent tension within conservative American thought in the post–Cold War period in which ‘pessimistic’ views of an inevitable ‘clash of civilizations’ have contrasted with optimistic forecasts of an ‘end of history’ (Fukuyama 1992). The neoconservative and neoliberal attempt to reconcile this tension is that of appropriating structural theories of the democratic peace, which legitimize democratization through one-size-fits-all institutional solutions and the cultivation of (pro-Western) elites. Forced and forceful democratization from the top down thus represents the tool to ‘tame’ cultures. According to this view, Turkey’s top-down modernization process proves that even in a Muslim country, democracy can be imposed. Turkey can thus be a ‘model’ for its Muslim peers. What is 20

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less clear in this discursive representation is whether Turkey can also be part of the European Union on an equal footing to its fellow members. Naturally it would be a mistake to view these discourses as flowing unilaterally from the US to the EU and Turkey. The interest in this line of enquiry is precisely the opposite: exploring how discourses in America, Turkey, and Europe have interlocked and interacted, explaining why some ‘forms of knowledge’ have resonated more than others. In other words, under this understanding of power, agency does not lie exclusively in the US, but also in the EU, in Turkey, as well as in the broader neighborhood. It is in the interactions between a multitude of agents across these geographical spaces that the full meaning and implications of these discursive representations can be grasped. Hence, as we shall see throughout this book, a geostrategic understanding of Europe has had wide resonance in Turkey, particularly amongst the country’s secular civilian and military establishments, media and academia. It has also been shared by some in the EU, particularly amongst foreign policy communities, euroskeptic constituencies, and strongly Atlanticist member states such as the United Kingdom and many of the Eastern European countries. Predictably, in both Turkey and the EU, the resonance of the liberal discourse is instead determined by political rather than geographic criteria. Rather than being concentrated in particular regions, this discourse has been shared and articulated by liberal circles across Europe (including Turkey), in the domains of politics, business, academia, civil society, and the media. The resonance in Europe of the civilizational discourse is more diffuse. Beyond the US, this discourse has been internalized by a strange set of bedfellows in Turkey and the EU. This set includes the nationalist and xenophobic right, which has accepted the ineluctability of a civilizational clash, as well as liberal, social-democratic, and conservative circles, which have promoted the dialogue or alliance of ‘civilizations’, in countries such as Italy, Germany, Spain, the UK, as well as Turkey itself. In view of these considerations, a set of questions arise to be explored over the course of this book. For example, what explains the decline of a geopolitical understanding of European integration within the EU in the aftermath of the Cold War, despite the persistence of such discourse in Turkey and the US? What role has the rise of the Justice and Development Party in Turkey played in explaining Turkey’s appropriation of the civilizational discourse? How has the resurgence of European Orientalism in light of the fear of terrorism and the securitization of immigration interlocked with a decline of the liberal discourse and increased resonance of the civilizational discourse, and how has this influenced Turkey’s EU accession process? Understanding American Influence

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Structure of the Book Taken together, American stakeholders, debates, and policies have influenced the course of EU-Turkey relations through a complex web of intended and unintended, traceable and untraceable, lines of causality. This book points to the principal strands within this complex web, highlighting some of the dominant forms of influence and explaining when and why they have unfolded. In doing so, it uncovers the principal dynamics underpinning relations between the US, Turkey, and the EU, casting new light on a critical yet under-researched element of transatlantic relations. The chapters are structured as follows. Chapter 2 unpacks the American debate about Turkey and EU-Turkey relations, and identifies the stakeholders in these debates and their respective positions, interests, and beliefs. Among these stakeholders we find diplomats, analysts, and businesses that have direct access to European counterparts, as well as politicians and lobbies that focus exclusively on the domestic political field. Chapter 3 undertakes a similar exercise in the European arena, identifying the multiplicity of debates, stakeholders, interests, and ideas in Europe regarding Turkey, highlighting areas of overlap and areas of mismatch with the United States. Having defined the contours of the debates and actors from both sides of the Atlantic, chapters 4, 5, and 6 tackle the core questions underpinning this book, which have been highlighted in the preceding sections and are represented graphically in figure 1.1. The chapters tackle these questions by exploring the differentiated impact of different forms of American power on EU approaches to Turkey and EU-Turkey relations. Chapter 4 focuses on the US-EU level, exploring how direct interactions between the United States and the European Union have influenced European approaches towards Turkey and EU-Turkey relations. In the direct EU-US relationship, the principal expressions of American power are ideational and discursive. There have not been meaningful attempts by the US to exercise its material power on the EU in order to spur Turkey’s European integration. Chapters 5 and 6 turn to indirect forms of American influence. Chapter 5 focuses on the US-Turkey level, exploring how the bilateral American-Turkish relationship has indirectly influenced European views of Turkey. The US has an impact on European approaches to Turkey and EU-Turkey relations through the exercise of its material, ideational, and discursive power on Turkey, which in turn have differentiated effects on the EU. 22

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Figure 1.1. Analytical Framework of the Book

Chapter 6 broadens the analysis, exploring how American expressions of power in the neighborhood have influenced European approaches to Turkey and EU-Turkey relations. In this case, American material, ideational, and discursive forms of power in the neighborhood provoke different effects on Turkish foreign policy, which in turn shape European approaches to Turkey and EU-Turkey relations. Chapter 7 concludes by assessing the differentiated American influence/s on EU-Turkey ties, exploring the broader implications for transatlantic relations and thus squaring the complex triangle that links the United States, Turkey, and Europe.

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2 The View from Washington American Debates and Stakeholders

In America, Turkey is viewed as a clear-cut foreign policy question. As such, the broad contours of American views of Turkey are set by US foreign policy norms, interests, and objectives. There are structural reasons why this is so, ranging from America’s geographical distance from Turkey to the strategic logic underpinning US-Turkey relations. However, an exclusive foreign policy lens does not mean that American views and debates about Turkey, US-Turkey relations, and EU-Turkey relations are monolithic. This is hardly the case. American approaches vary across stakeholders, and the relative weight of these approaches has changed over time. In order to understand how the US influences European approaches, positions, and policies towards Turkey, the starting point of our analysis is in America. The aim of this chapter is to map American debates on Turkey, tracing their roots and evolution, as well as their principal stakeholders, with their respective interests and beliefs regarding Turkey. The purpose is to set out where America stands on Turkey and EU-Turkey relations, in order to assess whether, how, and why it has influenced Turkey’s ties to Europe.

American Debates on Turkey and EU-Turkey Relations: Multiple Approaches Couched in Strategic Terms In the US, views of and approaches towards Turkey have changed considerably over the years. As will be discussed at length in chapter 5, there have been times of crisis and of cooperation in American-Turkish relations; there have been vocal criticisms as well as warm words of support coming from Washington. Yet the constant feature in American approaches to Turkey is an understanding of Turkey, US-Turkey relations, and EU-Turkey relations in broadly strategic terms. The bottom-line rationale for this approach is captured by a statement made by US Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gor24

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don in September 2009: ‘it is always striking when you deal with Turkey that you’re dealing with energy, NATO, EU, the Middle East, Iran, Cyprus, Greece, there’s hardly an issue that Turkey isn’t related to’ (Gordon 2009a). In other words, Turkey lies at the crux of multiple regions and issues of strategic significance to the United States. This strategic lens on Turkey has given rise to four broad and interrelated debates, whose relative weight as well as specific interpretations have varied over the years. In turn, these debates have conditioned American views of EU-Turkey relations.

Turkey as a Buffer The first interpretative key to understanding Turkey in America is that of viewing Turkey as a ‘bulwark’, ‘buffer’, or ‘barrier’. A foundational aspect of the ‘buffer state’ notion was its identity and ideational nature. At the inception of the Cold War, the US was not persuaded that Turkey could have acted as a credible barrier against Soviet expansionism, doubting that it would have been able to hold out for long had Moscow decisively moved against it (Barkey 1992). Hence the US’s initial reluctance to include Turkey in NATO, an inclusion that would have entailed a costly American commitment to protect Anatolia despite Turkey’s inability to contribute effectively to the North Atlantic Alliance. Notwithstanding, as elaborated in chapter 5, the debate in the US ultimately converged on the choice of including Turkey in the Western community, culminating in Turkey’s admission to NATO in 1952 (Athanassopoulou 1999; Kaplan 1994, 47; Kuniholm 1980, 363; Smith 2000, 69–74). Hence, unlike the case of Turkey’s Middle Eastern neighbors, America had made an identity choice for Turkey, a choice that initially was not motivated by Turkey’s military prowess. It was a choice that Turkey’s ruling establishment had insistently pressed for since the creation of the Republic and thereafter wholeheartedly embraced. It was a choice that enabled Turkey to manage both the material and the non-material and non-specific insecurities of the early Republican era (Bilgin 2009). Turkey would not simply be a Middle Eastern ally of the West. It would be part of the West. In an era in which political ideologies represented the principal signifiers of identity, Turkey’s identity was affirmed. Turkey became the south-eastern buffer state of the ‘free world’. Over the years, beyond acting as an identity marker, the ‘buffer state’ concept acquired strong military-strategic connotations as well. The Truman Doctrine, US-Turkish military agreements, and Turkey’s NATO memberAmerican Debates and Stakeholders

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ship all included an American commitment to protect Turkey against Soviet aggression. However, they also included Turkey’s obligation and growing capacity to act as a buffer against Soviet expansionism (Lesser 2007). The concept of Turkey as a military barrier can be traced back to the British-Russian antagonism along the ‘Northern Tier’ in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (Walker 2010).1 Yet its relevance in the Cold War increased as and when Turkey’s own military forces grew in size and strength through NATO membership. Over time, Turkey enabled America’s Soviet ‘containment’ by tying down dozens of Soviet divisions that could have been deployed against NATO on the Central Zone. Most importantly, Turkey also provided military bases and listening installations for monitoring and verifying Soviet compliance with arms-control agreements (Larrabee 2007a, 1). The ‘buffer state’ concept consolidated and began acquiring implicit cultural connotations by the 1980s, in view of the Iranian revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. With the 1978–79 Iranian revolution, the US lost a prime listening base in Iran. In turn, Turkey’s role as a buffer became all the more important. This took place precisely at a time in which Turkey was embroiled in internal political and economic instability; hence the US’s growing appreciation of Turkey’s significance as well as its heightened concerns about Turkey’s trajectory. It is in this context that US President Jimmy Carter at the January 1979 Guadeloupe summit appealed in favor of a large and unconditional economic stabilization package for Turkey through the International Monetary Fund.2 The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan further bolstered the case for Turkey’s role as a buffer, highlighting how Turkey was embedded in a ‘green crescent’ containment of the Soviet Union alongside Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and the Afghan mujahideen.3 It is with this international backdrop that the 1980 Turkish military junta developed the TurkishIslam Synthesis, which spilled into Turkish Prime Minister and President Turgut Özal’s ensuing civilian governments. As opposed to the first buffer state argument, which squarely and consciously placed Turkey within the West, however, this implicit cultural variant grouped Turkey with other proWestern ‘Muslim’ actors, which were clearly not viewed as part of the Western world. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the cultural variant of the buffer state argument gained prominence and was redirected against anti-Western Islamism. Turkey’s ‘moderate’ and ‘pro-Western’ variant of Islam was viewed as offering a strategic buffer against the spread of ‘radical’, ‘revisionist’, and ‘anti-Western’ Islam. In the early 1990s, this argument was principally applied to the Central Asian republics. During the presidency of George H. W. Bush 26

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and the early years of Bill Clinton’s administration, the US viewed with favor the idea that Turkey would replace (or at least supplement) Russian influence in Central Asia. Turkey would also act as a barrier against Iranian meddling (Barkey 2003) and Sunni jihadism in the region, which by then had slipped from American control. The concept of Turkey acting as a barrier against political Islam re-appeared on the agenda following the attacks of September 11, 2001. As we shall see below, in the twenty-first century this argument has been articulated predominantly in terms of Turkey acting as a ‘model’ for the Muslim world.

Turkey as a Bridge The second and by far most common American argument in the aftermath of the Cold War is the idea of Turkey acting as a bridge between ‘East’ and ‘West’. This argument was first conceived in light of the 1990–91 Gulf War and was couched predominantly in strategic-military terms. By acting as a ‘bridge’ to the East, Turkey would enable the projection of American power and interests in the Middle East and beyond. During the Gulf War, Turkey, under the leadership of Turgut Özal, backed the US-led military effort in order to reconfirm Turkey’s geopolitical significance to the West in a post–Cold War context. It defensively secured its southeastern border with Iraq by redeploying 100,000 troops to the Iraqi border, although it did not overtly contribute any offensive forces. It also enforced sanctions on Iraq by halting, inter alia, oil trade to and through Turkey. More importantly, it served as a base from which Allied attacks were launched into Iraq by granting access and over-flight rights to US aircraft operating from the Incirlik and Batman military bases. After the war, the sanctions regime, the no-fly zones in Northern Iraq, and the broader policy of ‘double containment’ of Iraq and Iran all hinged on Turkish cooperation. Turkish cooperation in Iraq in turn continued to inform the American strategic-military view of Turkey as a bridge to the turbulent East (Larrabee and Lesser 2001, 116; Barkey 2003). Yet as the 1990s progressed, the bridge metaphor was applied well beyond the strict military domain. Rather than simply acting as a staging ground for American and NATO ‘out-of-area’ military interventions in the Middle East, the Clinton administrations conceived of Turkey as a bridge and partner in a variety of geographical and policy domains. Geographically, Turkey was viewed as a bridge to a set of problematic regions of critical importance to the US: the Balkans, the Caucasus, Central Asia, and the Middle East (LarraAmerican Debates and Stakeholders

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bee 2007a). In policy terms, Turkey was seen as a bridge, meeting point, and hub in trade, energy, communications, democracy promotion, and interfaith dialogue. Most notoriously, President Clinton (1999) articulated this argument in his address to the Turkish Grand National Assembly in November 1999. In that address, Bill Clinton designated Turkey as a bridge within a globalizing world: ‘Since people have been able to draw maps, they have pointed out the immutable fact of Turkey’s geography—that Asia Minor is a bridge between continents. Less than a kilometer separates Europe from Asia at the nearest point along the Bosphorus. And, in reality, there is no separation at all, thanks to the bridges you have built—to the commerce that spans Turkey every day to the communications revolution that links all parts of the world instantaneously’. Clinton went on to explain why Turkey’s geographical centrality was critical: ‘Turkey’s ability to bridge East and West is all the more important when another fact of Turkey’s geography is considered. You are almost entirely surrounded by neighbors who are either actively hostile to democracy and peace, or struggling against great obstacles to embrace democracy and peace’  .  .  . ‘a strong Turkey playing its rightful role at the crossroads of the world, at the meeting place of three great faiths’.

Turkey as a Model In the twenty-first century another metaphor has captured American minds: drawing from the cultural variant of the buffer state argument explained above, the post-9/11 American debate heralded Turkey as a ‘model’ for the Muslim world.4 This debate was principally articulated by neoconservatives under the first George W. Bush administration, yet its strength and appeal rested on the fact that it solicited the attention and sympathy also of liberals committed to democratization. The argument took two related forms. The first was a general claim that ‘democracy’ and ‘Islam’ were compatible; that the lack of democracies in the Muslim world was therefore no foregone conclusion; and consequently, that American intervention to secure regime change, including through military means, was strategically and morally justified. Turkey represented the living proof which validated this logic. As pointed out by then Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz: ‘Modern Turkey demonstrates that a democratic system is indeed compatible with Islam’.5 The second aspect of the argument was that Turkey, as a Muslim country, could spearhead Western liberal values in the Muslim world. As stated by then National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice in 2002: Turkey represents ‘an excellent model: a 98% Muslim country that has a great importance as an 28

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alternative to radical Islam’ (quoted in Peterson 2002). Hence, as Larrabee (2004, 23) explained: ‘For many in the Bush administration, especially the neo-conservatives, Turkey has become the poster child for the administration’s effort to promote democracy in the Middle East through its Initiative for the Broader Middle East and North Africa’. In view of the deepening conviction in America of the role of religion in mobilizing global conflict, Turkey as a model thus served a double purpose. By simply being Muslim and democratic, Turkey passively provided the light at the end of the tunnel which justified morally American revisionism in the Greater Middle East. Intervention, including war, was necessary in order to create a better world. Muslim nations were not destined to live under authoritarianism and in the absence of liberty. Turkey, as a Muslim country, proved that another way was possible. The US would intervene to ensure this happened. Proactively, Turkey, as a Muslim country with key ties to the Muslim world, would instead be a spokesperson for the West, pulling its cultural weight to promote Western democratization policies in the region (Taşpınar 2006). As a result of the Turkish secular establishment’s skepticism and resentment against the ‘model’ argument (Taşpınar 2007), as well as the setbacks to the US democratization agenda in the aftermath of the rise of Islamist movements in the Middle East through elections in 2005–6, Washington toned down the rhetoric, referring to Turkey as an ‘example’ and a ‘source of inspiration’ for its neighbors instead (Gordon and Taşpınar 2006, 66–67; Migdalovitz 2008). While articulated with greater caution and sophistication, the ‘Turkey as a model’ mantra continues to permeate American debates on Turkey under the Obama administration as well. Hence, in March 2009 for example, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton argued that ‘Turkey is a democracy with a secular constitution, and is a model showing that Islam can indeed live together with secularism and democracy’.6 In 2011, in light of the revolts sweeping across the Arab world, the idea of Turkey as a model has aquired a renewed salience.

Turkey as an Independent Actor: Domestic Reform and Foreign Policy Implications As the American neoconservative wave subsided and Turkey became increasingly proactive in its neighborhood, a final strategic argument that has captured American attention since 2008–9 is that of Turkey as an independent actor in its neighborhood. However, both the causes of Turkey’s increasing ‘independence’ as well as its implications for the US have been viewed in almost diametrically opposite ways. American Debates and Stakeholders

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A conservative reading of Turkey, its evolution, and its foreign policy sees Turkey’s increasing independence as a source of threat. The premise underpinning this argument is the Huntingtonian notion of Turkey being a ‘torn country’ (Huntington 1993, 42), split between its secular establishment, which against all odds pursues Turkey’s affiliation to the (Christian) ‘West’, and its conservative and pious masses, who feel more comfortable in and are drawn to the (Muslim) ‘East’. With the tilting balance between these two halves in favor of the latter, Turkey, the argument goes, has pursued an increasingly independent course. The cause of this tilting balance is unambiguously viewed as the rise of political Islam in Turkey, embodied in the Justice and Development Party. The consequence is Turkey’s increasing warmth towards Muslim countries of the likes of Iran and Syria; its open political channels with Islamist movements such as Hamas and Hizbollah; and its pro-Islam double standards in denouncing genocide in Xinjiang while denying it in Darfur.7 The implication for the US (and Europe) is the danger of ‘losing’ Turkey (Menon and Winbush 2007; Kitfield 2010; Rubin 2010) and Turkey’s Western orientation (Çağaptay 2005) as the country inexorably slides to the East. This debate took a particularly strident tone in 2009–10 as the strategic Turkish-Israeli military alliance foundered and Turkish-Iranian relations warmed, leading some to provocatively question Turkey’s NATO membership tout court.8 Others have adopted a different reading of Turkey’s evolution and its foreign policy implications. Turkey is viewed as having embarked on an important path towards democratization. It is seen as having abandoned the gross human rights abuses of the 1990s—which were criticized in Washington— by adopting momentous constitutional and legislative reforms in 2001–5, a courageous though ill-defined ‘Democratic opening’ in 2009 to tackle, inter alia, the simmering Kurdish problem (Cook 2009), and a significant constitutional reform package approved by referendum in 2010. Openness at home has spilled over into policies abroad (Fuller 2008; Abramowitz and Barkey 2009); hence Turkey’s U-turn on Cyprus in 2002–4 by accepting the UN-sponsored Annan Plan. Consequently, the efforts to normalize ties to Armenia, while still embryonic, are nonetheless historic. The same is true of Turkey’s broader policy of improving relations with its neighbors, including Greece, Iraq, Iran, Russia, and Syria, and its attempted mediation in the Middle East and the Balkans. As put by an American diplomat in the region in 2009: ‘It is hard to take issue with Turkey’s approach because it is principled, diplomatic and it attempts at solving regional problems’.9

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Proponents of this line also highlight the danger that Turkey may succumb to divisive identity politics and authoritarian tendencies (Gordon and Taşpınar 2008; Abramowitz and Barkey 2009; Cook 2009). They are quick to point out the risks of diverging policies between the US and Turkey, particularly when it comes to Israel, Syria, Iraq, or Iran (Cook and Sherwood-Randall 2006). Yet, on a whole, the tone is concomitantly more upbeat and more resigned to the fact that a more democratic and independent Turkey may at times formulate its policies differently from the United States (Lesser 2006). In other words, as Turkey democratizes and gains in self-confidence, it will no longer simply act as Washington’s mouthpiece and may at times diverge from the US, as has been the case for other allies such as Germany or France. Yet precisely because of this, American-Turkish relations hold the promise of becoming stronger and entering a phase of maturity (Fuller 2004, 2008). As argued by Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gordon (2009b): ‘We consider it [Turkey] to be a European country with significant ties and interests in Europe but also one that has always had very active outreach to the Middle East and beyond. It is perfectly understandable and normal for Turkey to want close relations and to be highly engaged with its neighbors . . . we are neither surprised by nor disturbed by an activist Turkish agenda in the Middle East’.10 The image of Turkey as an actor in its own right was conjured most eloquently by President Barack Obama (2009): ‘I know there are those who like to debate Turkey’s future. They see your country at the crossroads of continents, and touched by the currents of history. They know that this has been a place where civilizations meet, and different peoples come together. They wonder whether you will be pulled in one direction or another. But I believe here is what they don’t understand: Turkey’s greatness lies in your ability to be at the center of things. This is not where East and West divide—this is where they come together’.

Enter the European Union Debates about Turkey in the US have ebbed and flowed. The dominant American lens on Turkey and its neighborhood is strategic, but within this broad frame a variety of arguments with multiple implications have been raised and elaborated over the years. Some debates have had exquisitely instrumental undertones, such as those regarding Turkey’s assets in terms of location and logistics. Others have had broader implications, driving at the very core of Turkey’s own identity.

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A related and critical question that has occupied much of the space in American debates on Turkey is its relationship with the European Union, and more precisely the prospects for Turkey’s EU membership. Since the late 1980s and early 1990s, the US has been an ardent, committed, and vocal supporter of closer EU-Turkey ties. More specifically, throughout the Clinton, Bush, and now Obama administrations, the US has frequently voiced its preference for Turkey’s EU accession. As put unambiguously by former US Assistant Secretary of State and Ambassador to Turkey Mark Grossman: ‘The United States supports Turkey’s EU membership; not ½ membership or ¾ membership, but full membership of the European Union’.11 Why does the US want to see Turkey in the EU? What are the American arguments in favor of Turkey’s accession? There are three broad reasons underpinning the close-to-unanimous American support for Turkey’s EU accession. First, Turkey’s membership in the EU reflects and supports the dominant American vision of the European Union. In the US, the European project is generally viewed through an Atlantic lens. European integration is conceived as part and parcel of the Atlantic alliance. In the Cold War years, it was the dominant political response to the Soviet menace to Europe: whereas NATO responded to the material threats emanating from the Soviet Union, the EU was an essential element in the Western response to non-material and nonspecific threats emanating from the Soviet bloc (McSweeney 1999, 7). This meant that European economic integration based on liberal market values was essential. It also meant that tight political integration was not. In fact, if the desire for tighter political European integration were to either imperil the enlargement of the European/Atlantic alliance or weaken transatlantic bonds by spearheading a more independent Europe, it was best avoided. In other words, Americans generally do not oppose deeper integration on the European continent, as long as it does not trump the Atlanticist rationale of the European project. Turkey fits easily into this framework. Turkey’s European integration would not only entail the consolidation of the Atlantic community given that Turkey is already a member of NATO. In view of Turkey’s strong relationship with the US, Turkey’s EU membership would also beef up the Atlanticist contingent within the EU itself. There have been dissenting minority views within the US on this question. Particularly during the first years of the George W. Bush administration, strident anti-Europeanism led some neoconservatives to question the desirability of ‘losing Turkey to Europe’ and instead to support Turkey as a Middle Eastern ally alongside Israel (Larrabee 2004). Particularly at the time of the 32

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March 2003 Turkish rejection of the bill authorizing the US to attack Iraq through Turkish territory, some neoconservatives underscored the undesirability of an excessively ‘Europeanized’ Turkey, mirroring member states like France, which would have enabled the EU to act as an independent counterweight to the US. But even to these skeptics, the assets brought about by Turkey’s EU accession and the prospect of Turkey acting as a transatlantic voice in Europe outweighed the costs. By the time of the second George W. Bush administration, the intra-American debate about the desirability of Turkey’s membership was over once again (Cook and Sherwood-Randall 2006, 13). True, the US might have ‘lost Turkey to the EU’, through a smaller share of the Turkish defense industry for example. But insofar as a European Turkey would involve a larger and more stable market overall, the outcome would be win-win both for the EU and the US. The absolute value for the US would increase through an overall larger Turkish ‘pie’, although the American share of it would decline (Abramowitz, Burt, Bandler et al. 2004; Barkey 2003). Because of all these reasons, as succinctly put by former Ambassador to Turkey Morton Abramowitz (2003, 17), promoting Turkey’s EU accession has been ‘a no-brainer’ for Americans. A second reason explaining US support for Turkey’s EU integration is the appreciation of the strategic assets that would accrue to the EU and more broadly to the transatlantic alliance through Turkey’s membership. With Turkey in its fold, the EU would greatly enhance its external projection, particularly in those regions and policy areas where it contributes critical advantages, whether these pertain to where Turkey is (e.g., in the realm of energy) or to what it is—a ‘moderate’, ‘Muslim’, ‘secular’ ally (e.g., in the Greater Middle East). As explained by Deputy Secretary of State Jim Steinberg in November 2009: ‘Turkey presents the EU with a tremendous opportunity to deal with multiple challenges, ranging from Iran, Afghanistan, Central Asia, Iraq, the Middle East and the Balkans’.12 The point was reiterated by Assistant Secretary of State Gordon in March 2010, when arguing that Turkey would represent a ‘boost to the EU as a foreign policy actor’.13 In turn, a strengthened EU role in the world, through Turkey, would enhance the transatlantic alliance and its effectiveness in dealing with global challenges: ‘integrating Turkey into the EU should be an important objective of the future of strategic cooperation between the United States, Europe and Turkey’ (Khalilzad 2000, 93). A third and related argument concerns the imperative of ‘anchoring’ Turkey to the West. During the Cold War, Turkey’s anchorage was assured by its domestic capitalist economic system and its membership in NATO. Turkey’s formal democracy was important, but secondary. Moments of democratic American Debates and Stakeholders

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suspension (i.e., the successive military coups) never led to a fundamental questioning of Turkey’s membership of the West. On the contrary, as discussed in chapter 5, the longest period of military rule in Turkey coincided with a stepping up of military cooperation with the US. In the post–Cold War era in which political ideologies no longer represent the principal (let alone the only) markers of identity, the US has felt acutely the need to embed Turkey within the transatlantic community in a broader and deeper fashion. In order to remain part of the West, Turkey’s political system had to transition towards greater democracy. Turkey’s democratic consolidation has been viewed as strategically imperative and not simply as politically desirable. NATO continues to be considered as a key vehicle to fulfill this strategic goal, but even in Washington many appreciate that in the current environment, that alone is insufficient. Hence, in the same way that the US boldly supported the eastern enlargement of the EU, it has also backed the accession of Turkey. Turkey’s EU membership has been viewed as the prerequisite for Turkey’s continued anchorage to the ‘West’. From the West, Turkey would then continue to act as a bridge to other regions (Lesser 2004). In other words: ‘It is an article of faith amongst most American experts that steady progress towards membership in the EU is the best guarantee that Turkey will remain anchored in the West and eschew Eurasian and Middle Eastern alternatives’ (Lesser 2008, 222–23). Delving into the detail of this argument, several aspects emerge. The most important is the question of Turkey’s reforms (Kayhan and Lindley 2006). By engaging Turkey, the EU would take its share of the burden in ensuring that Turkey’s development path proceeds in line with the West, acting in the recognition that Turkey is too important to be left to its own devices.14 The US, which particularly during the 1990s strove to encourage greater democracy in Turkey, is recognized as being unable to provide the adequate incentives for Turkish reform. As acknowledged by a former Assistant Secretary of State, ‘it would be far harder for the United States to spur Turkish reforms were the EU anchor to go astray’.15 By contrast, the prize of EU membership would inject the necessary momentum in Ankara’s reform efforts, which would allow the US itself to make a more effective pro-reform case to Turkey. Turkey’s accession process would thus ensure that Turkey, by proceeding along the path of democratization, would remain anchored, not only in the Western community of interests, but also in the Western community of values. As Mark Grossman explains it, Turkey’s EU membership is a prerequisite for ‘Turkey to become an even more successful twenty-first century democracy in terms of pluralism, the balance between secularism and religion, women 34

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rights, minorities, rule of law and a strong market economy’.16 Alongside this, the accession process would induce Ankara to proceed with important foreign policy initiatives, including a settlement in Cyprus and a normalization of relations with Armenia, and, more broadly, to play a constructive role in its troubled neighborhood. A more democratic and developed Turkey could also widen and deepen its relations with the United States, in particular by diversifying the security-heavy nature of the alliance through an expansion of economic, political, and social ties. Another aspect underpinning American support for Turkey’s EU accession process is the perceived imperative of encouraging EU-NATO cooperation. Beyond the scope of the EU-NATO Berlin Plus agreement,17 strategic dialogue between the EU and NATO has been blocked by Turkey on the grounds of its concerns about giving Cyprus access to NATO resources and information while Turkey is excluded from the EU’s Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) decision-making process. Whereas at the operational level—including in Afghanistan—Turkey often turns a blind eye to EU-NATO cooperation,18 at the strategic and policy levels such cooperation is hampered. From an American perspective, Turkey’s entry in the European Union and Turkey’s ensuing participation in the CSDP would resolve the blockages in EU-NATO cooperation. In this specific context, the US, and in particular the Pentagon, appreciates also the imperative of resolving the Cyprus conflict, given that the impasse on the island has both blocked EUNATO cooperation and hampered Turkey’s EU accession process. By contrast, were Turkey’s accession process to falter and stall, the outcome would be bleak. As Julianne Smith (2009, 14) explains: if Turkey’s accession process is derailed, ‘failure would likely accelerate the growth of nationalist and illiberal political forces in Turkey counter to U.S. interests and trigger even more obstructionist policies concerning NATO-EU cooperation and within NATO itself. Relations with the United States could also be damaged, and Turkey’s efforts to deepen ties with other international partners, including Russia and states in the Middle East and Asia, would likely accelerate’. Evident in these words is the conviction that unless it is anchored to the West through the EU, Turkey may be ‘lost’ and the transatlantic alliance would be unable to reap the strategic assets that a reformed Turkey could bring to bear. Embedded is the concern—articulated in the discussion about ‘losing Turkey’—that Turkey, particularly if snubbed by Europe, may dangerously turn elsewhere. The unspoken assumption is that Turkey does not naturally or inevitably fall within the West, and must be kept firmly anchored to it. American Debates and Stakeholders

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American Stakeholders on Turkey: Multiple Voices Within a Confined Set of Actors The previous discussion has revealed the contours and the details of American views and approaches to Turkey and to EU-Turkey relations. Articulating these arguments both within the US as well as among the US, the EU, and Turkey are a set of stakeholders within different American institutions and policy domains.

State Actors In official America, three actors have regularly articulated their views of Turkey: the Department of State, the Department of Defense, and Congress. The White House, inevitably, has paid attention to Turkey at irregular intervals, as and when a state visit loomed on the horizon (and at times not even then) or when a crisis to which Turkey is inextricably tied topped the presidential agenda. When the White House has focused on Turkey, its approach has predictably represented a fusion of the institutional approaches discussed below. Within the State Department, Turkey is under the purview of the Bureau of European and Eurasia Affairs. The very inclusion of Turkey in ‘Europe’ within the bureaucracy, a decision taken back in 1974, indicates a natural inclination to view positively Turkey’s EU accession. On the downside, the inclusion of Turkey in a Bureau including no fewer than 50 countries means that attention to Turkey as such is rather limited. An infamous example of this occurred in 2007, when Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice took five days to react to the Turkish military’s ‘e-memorandum’ warning against the election of Abdullah Gül as president. While viewed by many in Turkey and Europe as a sinister signal of implicit approval of military intervention, it was read by those in-the-know in Washington as an example highlighting the sorry consequences of not paying due attention to developments in Turkey.19 This is not to say that Turkey is viewed as unimportant in Foggy Bottom. On the contrary, Turkey features prominently in the State Department’s work insofar as it is tied to a myriad of issues and regions falling within its competences. More specifically, the Bureau’s mandate—covering questions such as NATO enlargement, coordination with the EU and regional organizations, support for democracy, human rights, civil society and economic development, non-proliferation and the fight against terrorism—suggests a propensity to favor two sets of arguments regarding Turkey. 36

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First, its institutional focus on the EU and related strategic questions (e.g., NATO, non-proliferation, the fight against terrorism) means that the State Department regularly highlights Turkey’s strategic assets in debates with European counterparts—be these articulated in ‘buffer’, ‘bridge’, ‘model’, or ‘independent actor’ terms. The State Department is more comfortable with ‘bridge’ than with ‘model’ metaphors, being sensitive to Turkey’s secular establishment’s prickliness to being classified according to its religion. It thus generally opts for the vaguer formulation of Turkey as a ‘source of inspiration’ to the Muslim world. Hence, as put by former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Mathew Bryza: ‘The point is that Turkey provides not a model, but an example of a secular democracy with a predominantly Muslim population, which makes Turkey unique as a country in Europe and the Middle East’.20 It has also treated with caution the idea of Turkey as an independent actor in its neighborhood, appreciating the value of Turkey’s foreign policy activism, but expressing concerns about Ankara’s distancing from the US on matters such as Israel and Iran.21 However on a whole, the State Department views Turkey as a critical ally and emphasizes the strategic assets that could materialize through Turkey’s EU accession. Second, the State Department is naturally inclined to focus on arguments regarding the importance of the EU anchor to embed and consolidate Turkey’s belonging to the West. In view of its mandate regarding the promotion of democracy, human rights, and the rule of law, Foggy Bottom has paid particular attention to the EU-inspired reforms in Turkey and has consistently sought ways to render EU incentives to Turkey more effective. Its focus on reform, however, has generally not trumped its priority to maintain close ties to Ankara. Of the two schools of thought—a first which argues that allies ought not to be publicly criticized and a second which favors more muscular US engagement on domestic reforms—the first has tended to win the day within the institution (Barkey 2003).22 In the 1990s, for example, when Turkey was embroiled in gross human rights abuses, domestic political violence, incursions in Iraq (and a near war with Syria), military meddling in domestic politics and economic instability, the State Department engaged in a critical dialogue with Turkey, but not at the expense of upholding the strategic partnership (Carpenter 1999). While consistent in its rhetoric against human rights abuses and in particular speaking out on the question of torture and freedom of expression through its annual human rights reports, the State Department strived to soften the blows against Turkey coming from Congress and civil society particularly in the 1990s. As discussed in detail in chapter 5, the State Department has also been particularly adamant in calling upon Congress to refrain from passing the Armenian genocide resolution. American Debates and Stakeholders

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The Department of Defense also pays regular attention to Turkey and its neighborhood. However, differences in mandate and in bureaucratic structures explain a different focus and interpretation regarding Turkey. The Pentagon also adopts a strategic outlook on Turkey. It prioritizes the notion of Turkey acting as a buffer and as a bridge, focusing in particular on the locational and logistical assets that Turkey offers in the conduct of military operations, be these in Iraq or in missions farther afield in the Balkans, Afghanistan, or Somalia.23 The US defense community has traditionally been a key supporter of Turkey in Washington’s politics, and the regular military exercises and US Air Force presence in Incirlik have produced generations of American officers with knowledge of and interest in Turkey (Lesser 2007). By contrast, the Pentagon has been less emphatic than the State Department (and less still than Congress) on Turkey’s democratic shortcomings as well as on the country’s EU ambitions. While favoring Turkey’s EU accession (in particular the European Command—EUCOM), the Pentagon has rarely pressed explicitly the case for Turkey in Europe. Its burgeoning relationship with the Turkish military—starting with the 1969 US-Turkey Defense and Economic Cooperation Agreement (DECA) and the ensuing bilateral military training and defense industrial cooperation—has also meant turning a blind eye to Turkey’s skewed civilian-military balance. Particularly since the 1979 Iranian revolution and the 1980 military coup in Turkey (Larrabee and Lesser 2001), the Pentagon has developed a strong relationship with the Turkish General Staff as well as the Turkish National Intelligence Organization (Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı), implicitly accepting the role of the Turkish military as a guardian of the secular Republic. However, military-military relations are not as solid as they used to be. The disappearance of a common enemy—the Soviet Union, the reduction of US military presence in Turkey from 15,000 in the late 1980s to 2,000 nowadays, divergences over Iraq and Turkey’s unease about US use of the Incirlik base during the 1990s, have all played a role. A critical moment of rupture came in March 2003. While the rejection of the motion to allow US troops through Turkey for the invasion of Iraq came from the Turkish parliament, the US administration in general and the Pentagon in particular ascribed much of the ‘blame’ to the Turkish military. The Department of Defense was confident that Turkey would have acquiesced to US demands, despite all the haggling over the ‘price tag’ that came with it. It was also keen to engage Turkey in the war effort (Taşpınar 2006, 198). The rejection of the bill came as an unpleasant surprise to the US administration, and the Pentagon did not hide its displeasure at the Turkish military, which displayed ambiguous attitudes 38

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towards the agreement. In particular on the eve of the vote, the Turkish Chief of the Land Forces Aytaç Yalman gave an anonymous interview to the Turkish daily Milliyet declaring that an approval of the bill would be against Turkish interests.24 In response, then Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz stated: ‘The Turkish military did not play the strong leadership role we would have expected’ (quoted in Taşpınar 2006, 198). Relations between Turkey and the Department of Defense plummeted further between 2003 and 2007. Institutional structures within the US military exacerbated tensions. More specifically, the Central Command— CENTCOM, active in Iraq, became wary of Turkey’s actions and demands in Northern Iraq (as opposed to EUCOM, which continued to view Turkey more favorably through the NATO lens). However, with the turn in Turkish-American cooperation in the fight against the PKK in 2006–7, relations between the two military establishments have distinctly improved. While the crack caused by the war in Iraq may not have entirely sealed, relations have overcome the moment of crisis. The American defense establishment continues to look favorably upon Turkey and its strategic significance. Turning to Congress, the focus shifts. The House of Representatives and the Senate also appreciate Turkey’s strategic significance, in particular in relation to US interests in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Israel, defense, and NATO.25 However, unlike the Pentagon and far more than the State Department, Congress has preoccupied itself with ‘human rights and ethnic questions’.26 In the 1980s and for much of the 1990s, Congress tended to view Turkey more as a problem than as an opportunity, with critics of Turkey being almost evenly split between Democrats and Republicans (with a slight majority in the former).27 In the eyes of Congress in those years, Turkey’s foreign policy conduct and its domestic deficiencies outweighed its strategic assets. Turkey was viewed more as the invader of Cyprus, the Armenian genocide denier, the gross human rights abuser, and the repressor of the Kurds, than as a strategic partner of the US. Through the influence of a broad coalition of Greek, Armenian, and human rights lobbies, Congress frequently blocked or delayed arms sales to Turkey in the second half of the 1990s (Barkey 2003). By the late 1990s this picture started changing. There were two factors underpinning this slight tilt towards a more benign view of Turkey in Congress. The first was Özal’s engagement with the American Jewish lobbies in the early 1990s and above all the strategic alliance between Turkey and Israel in the mid-1990s, which rallied favor amongst American Jewish lobbies that are highly influential on the Hill. The second was Congress’s increasing appreciation of Turkey’s role as an energy and a military bridge. This appreAmerican Debates and Stakeholders

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ciation came as a result of the relentless efforts by prominent members of the Clinton administration such as former Assistant Secretaries of State Richard Holbrooke and Mark Grossman in pressing this line, as well as the increasing interest in Turkey by American energy and defense industries with their respective influences on Congress. However, the real turn in Congress’s views on Turkey came in the twentyfirst century (Barkey 2003). In the new century, Congress has seen Turkey far more favorably and has been inclined to embrace more readily the ‘model’ and ‘independent actor’ arguments discussed above. The gap between the administration and Congress on Turkey remains, but has narrowed considerably, as Democrats in particular have grown increasingly sympathetic towards Turkey.28 To the limited extent that Congress is engaged in foreign policy questions, Turkey is heralded as a positive force in its neighborhood, a key partner in American foreign policy endeavors, and engaged in an important democratic transformation to solve its pending problems at home and abroad. In stark contrast to the views of the Pentagon and the White House in particular, even the March 2003 vote in Turkey was not viewed as unambiguously negative, but also as a sign of Turkey’s increasing democratization, where the views of the people could not go unheard (Congress 2003, 2748–53). Hence Congressman Norm Dicks (D-WA) argued at the time: ‘if 90 percent of the people in the United States were opposed to this war, we might not be there’. Likewise Congressman Jim Kolbe (R-AZ) reiterated: ‘we need to remember that they [Turkey] are a democracy and sometimes democracies can be messy, as we certainly know in our own body here’. Similarly, Congressman Robert Wexler (D-FL) posed a rhetorical question: ‘So what is the message? That the United States is their [Turkey’s] friend if they are a democracy only when they decide in agreement with what we believe? I think we have to understand, this is a new government with a new parliament; and Turkey has been a reliable ally for many, many years’. Turkey has also become an increasing area of interest in Congress, with the Turkey caucus counting 106 members out of the 435 members of the House in March 2010, roughly double the members in the Hellenic and Armenian caucuses. A set of developments led to this change. The first includes 9/11, the rise of ‘civilizational’ worldviews, and Congress’s ensuing sympathy towards the argument of Turkey acting as a secular democratic Muslim model. Second are developments in Turkey itself. Much of the Congressional criticism of Turkey was a result of the latter’s domestic and foreign policy conduct. As for when this started changing, criticism subdued. Turkey’s rapprochement with Greece since 1999 and its U-turn on Cyprus through its support for the Annan 40

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Plan in 2004 have taken much of the steam out of Congress’s Eastern Mediterranean-related denunciations of Turkey. Questions such as the reopening of the Halki seminary or the presence of Turkish troops in Cyprus are raised in Congressional debates, but rather than expressing stark condemnations, they are mentioned in relation to Turkey’s EU obligations.29 Turkey’s process of normalization with Armenia in 2008–2009 also dampened Congressional criticism. True, the Resolution recognizing the Armenian Genocide was submitted in January 2007 and has over 200 co-sponsors. Having passed in the House Committee on Foreign Affairs in 2007 and been reaffirmed in March 2010, it has been pending a full House vote. However, beyond the regular calls by former presidents, secretaries of state, and strategic experts, the single most important factor responsible for decreasing the likelihood of the resolution passing is the process of normalization in Turkish-Armenian relations. It is in fact interesting that when the Committee on Foreign Affairs reaffirmed the genocide resolution in March 2010, it did so by a far narrower margin (23–22 votes in favor) than that of 2007 (27–21 in favor). By 2010 however, winds of change started blowing again in Congress. The stalled Turkish-Armenian rapprochment in 2010–2011 and, above all, the sharp deterioration of Turkish-Israeli relations particularly since the Gaza flotilla incident in May 2010, have reignited Congress’s criticism of Turkey. In other words, far more than other US stakeholders, Congress’s approach towards Turkey is quintessentially political. On the one hand, Congress continues to voice its concerns more adamantly than other state institutions, particularly when the issues at stake involve the interests of powerful lobby groups. On the other hand, there is a heightened appreciation of Turkey’s strategic assets on the Hill and a greater understanding that arm-twisting at a time when Ankara is engaged in domestic and foreign policy reform may backfire.

Business, Think Tanks, and Lobbies As Lesser (2007) notes, Turkey often complains it does not have a ‘lobby’ in Washington. Indeed, the American-Turkish community, counting some 350–400,000 citizens, is relatively small, geographically dispersed, and above all associationally weak and uninfluential, when compared to the Greek, Armenian, or Jewish counterparts. There are some Turkish associations, such as the SETA think tank (close to the governing AKP) or the Turkic-American Alliance and the interfaith Rumi Forum (affiliated to the Fetullah Gülen Movement). There American Debates and Stakeholders

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are also a number of business associations such as the American-Turkish Council, its Turkish counterpart the Turkish-US Business Council, the Turkish businessman association–TÜSİAD, the Turkish Chambers of Commerce–TOBB, and the Turkish Confederation of Businessmen and Industrialists–TUSKON, all of which have offices in Washington. Particularly TÜSİAD has acted well beyond the scope of American-Turkish economic ties, mobilizing against the Armenian genocide bill and in favor of American support for EU-Turkey relations and of stronger US-Turkey relations.30 However, as argued by Lesser (2007, 81–82), the most significant unofficial ‘lobbies’ for Turkey in Washington are the American financial and strategic communities. Whereas Turkish-American trade remains highly circumscribed (at approximately $10 billion per year), some 600 American firms operate in Turkey, including Citigroup’s 20 percent stake in Akbank, GE Capital’s 20 percent stake in Garanti, and Ford’s opening of a plant in Turkey. Alongside this, the American defense industry retains a strong interest in the Turkish market (particularly given that Congressional blockages on arms transfers to Turkey have been reduced) and American investors are eying Turkey’s real estate market. The American strategic community—including analysts in American think tanks such as the Brookings Institution, the German Marshall Fund, the Center for Strategic and International Studies, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, the Hudson Institute, and the Middle East Institute—irrespective of political coloring, have also tended to highlight Turkey’s strategic importance to the United States, articulating publicly and disseminating the buffer, bridge, model, and independent actor arguments discussed above. However, since the second term in office of the Justice and Development Party in Turkey in 2007, whereas more liberal think tanks such as the Brookings Institution have continued to paint a picture of Turkey generally moving towards greater democracy, conservative counterparts such as the Washington Institute have warned about the perils of an increasingly ‘Islamist’ and independent Turkey dangerously sliding to the East. Finally, and as anticipated in the discussion on Congress, are the ‘ethnic’ lobbies, and in particular the Greek, Armenian, and Jewish lobbies (Yılmaz 2004). The Greek lobby had been very influential in the past in driving Congress’s critical stance towards Turkey’s Aegean and Cyprus policies. The most evident case in point is the role of the lobby in pressing for the 1975 US arms embargo on Turkey. Yet, while continuing to press for an end to Turkey’s mil-

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itary presence in Cyprus and against a recognition of the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, much of the wind has been taken out of the sails of the Greek lobby’s demands as Turkey has altered and softened its policies towards Greece and Cyprus.31 As far as the Armenian Americans are concerned, the process of normalization in Turkish-Armenian relations has not dampened calls for the recognition of the Armenian genocide and ensuing compensation.32 The lobby views the eventual establishment of a joint commission of historians to ascertain whether the events of 1915 constituted genocide as an insult to what they believe is a clear and unveiled fact, and believes that Armenia has been bullied into the deal. Hence the push for the House of Foreign Affairs Committee’s resolution recognizing the Armenian genocide in March 2010. This said, the effectiveness of the Armenian Diaspora’s lobbying efforts will depend critically on whether the process of Turkish-Armenian normalization is revived. A reverse story can be told of the Jewish lobbies. In the mid-1990s, the lobbies had championed the Turkish-Israeli military alliance and supported Turkey as Israel’s only Muslim friend. The Turkey caucus in Congress was created precisely in the context of the developing Turkish-Israeli relationship.33 Over the years, the lobbies manifested their support for Turkey by countering efforts at passing the Armenian genocide bill in Congress. However, with the warming of Turkey’s relations with Syria and Iran since 2004 and, above all, with the souring of Turkish-Israeli relations in 2009–11, American Jewish lobbies have turned their back on Turkey.34 In turn, the American Jewish Committee, the American Israeli Public Affairs Committee, and the Anti-Defamation League have either stopped opposing or have started actively supporting the Armenian genocide resolution, for example. Here again, however, as long as Turkey improves relations with its neighbors and democratizes at home, the influence of Jewish lobbies on AmericanTurkish relations is likely to diminish.

American Interests and Ideas Regarding Turkey The stakeholder motivations underpinning American debates, positions, and rationales on Turkey can be summed up in two words: interests and ideas. American strategic interests compounded by a shared Turkish-American strategic culture explain many of the debates and oscillations presented in this chapter.

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Strategic Interests By far the dominant rationale and justification of American debates on Turkey is grounded on American strategic interests. In this respect, a distinctly instrumental American approach to Turkey and EU-Turkey relations emerges between the lines of American debates on Turkey. The driving factor behind American positions is whether and how developments in Turkey and EU-Turkey relations affect American strategic interests and objectives. This instrumental approach imbues discussions by and between American state and non-state sympathizers and critics of Turkey. For example, even friends of Turkey who champion Turkey’s growing independence in the twenty-first century continue to articulate views of Turkey in relation to American interests. Whereas there is greater readiness to admit that supporting US interests may allow for diverging foreign policy approaches, the key question is whether Turkey will continue to ‘support Western objectives’ (Lesser 2006, 89; emphasis added). An instrumental logic is perhaps inevitable in a context in which Turkey lies in what America considers to be the geographical epicenter of its strategic concerns. As stated by US Ambassador to the UN Richard Holbrooke in 1997: ‘Turkey has increasingly become the centerpiece of American strategic interests in a very dangerous neighborhood’.35 From the Cold War onwards, Turkey has been pivotal in the accomplishment of US strategic objectives. These have been articulated primarily in military terms, starting with Turkey’s role in the containment of Soviet power to its role as a launching pad for military operations in Iraq during and after the 1990–1991 war. Turkey’s own military contributions have also been appreciated in Washington, from Turkey’s participation in the 1950 Korean War to its military contributions in the Balkans and Somalia. As put by Mark Parris (2003, 7), former US Ambassador to Turkey: ‘from a security perspective, the military dimension of the relationship proved as important as during the Cold War. Turkish participation in peacekeeping actions in Somalia, Bosnia, Kosovo and Macedonia demonstrated to the Pentagon and White House planners Ankara’s capabilities and readiness to shoulder responsibility as a “security producing nation”’. In the new century, Turkey’s location in the midst of American security interests has continued to loom large in the minds of American strategists. Turkey has continued to play a pivotal role in providing and re-supplying troops in Afghanistan since 2001 (Larrabee 2007a, 25), playing an active role in counter-terrorism operations, and providing safe passage to the US Air Force as well as logistical support to US personnel in Iraq after 2003. 44

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Particularly since the Clinton presidency, however, Turkey has featured more broadly in American strategic discussions, being viewed as pivotal in securing a wide array of American strategic interests and objectives in military, political, economic, and energy terms. As stated by Assistant Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke in 1995: ‘Turkey stands at the crossroads of almost every issue of importance to the US on the Eurasian continent’ (quoted in Chase, Hill, and Kennedy 1999, 9). The argument was echoed and elaborated by Zbigniew K. Brzezinski (1997, 41). In this context, in November 1999, President Clinton elevated US-Turkey relations to the (unclear category of) a ‘strategic partnership’. Under the second Bush administration and the ensuing Obama administration, efforts have been made to resurrect and revamp the ‘strategic partnership’ into a ‘model partnership’. In other words, Turkey has been instrumental in the accomplishment of perceived American interests and objectives, granting Washington diplomatic and military freedom of action, and sustaining American objectives in a variety of policy areas.

Strategic Culture American debates on Turkey can also be explained by a broad congruence in strategic cultures between the two countries (Lesser 2007). Traditionally, both countries have a heightened sense of security and a highly securitized foreign policy debate. Both are extremely sensitive to questions of national sovereignty, setting them apart from the greater European propensity to endorse supranational governance. Both are skeptical of international norms and reluctant to embrace international constraints, viewed as undue infringements on national sovereignty. As put by Lesser (2007, 28): ‘The perennially skeptical attitude of American lawmakers to international treaties and regulations, and the sensitivity to perceived foreign interest and influence within American borders, can be perfectly recognized in the Turkish debate’. Both place prime value on military power, voicing doubts over the effectiveness of economic leverage. Transatlantic Trends (2010, 66), for example, revealed that Americans and Turks continue to share more similar views than the EU average. On average between 2006 and 2010, 65 percent of Turks and 71 percent of Americans believe that economic power is more important than military power, as opposed to the much higher 83 percent figure in the European Union. Another area in which Turkey and America have traditionally seen eyeto-eye is on the related question of when and whether to use military force, with both countries concomitantly displaying a low threshold for national American Debates and Stakeholders

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insecurity and a readiness to deploy military power in defense of perceived national security interests, as evidenced by the American response to 9/11 and Turkey’s Cyprus intervention in 1974 or its repeated military incursions in Iraq since the 1990s (Lesser 2007, 28). This said, on the very question of the use of force, a diverging trend may be in the offing. As explored in depth in chapter 6, particularly since 2004 Turkey appears to have embarked upon an increasingly ‘Europeanized’ foreign policy, especially as far as its relations in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Caucasus, and the Middle East are concerned (Aydın and Açıkmeşe 2007; Özcan 2008). On the one hand, the EU accession process provided the security reassurances which enabled the Turkish military to contemplate shifts in foreign policy (Aydınlı, Özcan, and Akyaz 2006). On the other hand, the accession process induced Turkey to embark upon a path of political transformation, which increased the number of stakeholders in foreign policy-making and the government’s responsiveness to public opinion. In turn, Turkey today is far more ready to seek cooperative relations with all its neighbors, and increasingly privileges the development of economic and social relations with them—two features that characterize the EU’s own foreign policy rhetoric and approach. A similar trend is noticeable in public opinion. Whereas in 2004, 50 percent of Turks believed that war is at times necessary to achieve justice, this figure dropped to 42 percent in 2010, edging closer to the 30 percent EU average support for the statement in 2010, and moving away from the 77 percent American rate of approval in 2010 (Transatlantic Trends 2010, 67). It is in this context that some Americans dwell on the implications of Turkey’s increasing independence from the US, some eying this trend with concern, others heralding it as the spring of an age of maturity in American-Turkish relations.

Conclusions This chapter has uncovered the debates within the US regarding Turkey and EU-Turkey relations. The overall constant is the general strategic outlook in these debates, driven by the overwhelming American strategic interests in and around Turkey, alongside a largely shared culture regarding international affairs. However, within this overall approach two trends emerge. The first and dominant trend is geopolitical, giving rise to what Ian Lesser defines as the ‘real estate’ understanding of Turkey in the United States.36 This geopolitical understanding has led to both an over- and an under-appreciation of Turkey in the US. The American debate has lent itself to addressing the myriad of 46

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strategic questions that Turkey, in view of its location, is embroiled in. At the same time and because of this, Turkey has often fallen between the cracks in the US policymaking and bureaucratic machineries, thus entailing a conspicuous lack of detailed attention to what takes place in Turkey itself, particularly in institutions such as the White House, the State Department, and the Department of Defense.37 The American geopolitical lens on Turkey has led to an overemphasis of ‘where Turkey is’ and an under-emphasis on ‘what Turkey is’.38 There is then a second, less dominant, trend, which has permeated debates in Congress as well as in the civil society community engaged on Turkey. Here the focus is more on what Turkey is, how it acts, and what it represents. In other words, the implications in this second strand are far more intimately related to views on Turkey’s own identity. The purpose of this chapter has been setting the base line to understand whether and how the US has influenced European positions and policies towards Turkey. It is only by understanding what America thinks about Turkey that we can subsequently explore whether and how it influences European policies on the subject matter. The second step in the analysis, to which we now turn, is to explore the other end of the spectrum: European debates, stakeholders, interests, and ideas on Turkey.

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3 Behind the Scenes of the EU European Debates and Stakeholders

An insightful key to understanding Turkey’s long march to Europe as well as the scope of American influence on EU-Turkey relations is to explore European debates on Turkey. European debates are not simply ‘for’ or ‘against’ Turkey. It is true that a majority of public opinion across the EU opposes Turkey’s accession nowadays. But most importantly for our purposes, the causes of support and opposition to Turkey’s EU aspirations vary widely and shift over time. These underlying causes relate to a set of debates articulated by stakeholders within and across EU member states. The significance of European debates on Turkey as a key to understanding the pace and shape of Turkey’s accession process is captured by a cursory comparison between the accession timelines of Turkey and other candidate countries. Table 3.1 lists the most salient steps in the EU accession process, discussed in box 3.1, and the dates at which five candidate countries proceeded along them. Three former candidates have been selected, including Spain (in the context of the southern enlargement of the 1980s), Austria (in the context of the northern enlargement of the 1990s), and Poland (in the context of the eastern enlargement of the 2000s). In addition, the table includes Croatia, which is currently in the accession process alongside the other Western Balkan countries and Turkey. To date, an accession process has never lasted more than a decade. Spain’s accession process was protracted, particularly considering that at the time the European Community was far less developed in terms of its laws, rules, and procedures than it is today. Poland’s accession, alongside that of the other Central and Eastern member states, also lasted almost a decade. In the case of Poland and of Croatia, as in the case of Turkey, the accession is complicated also by the fact that the EU itself is far more developed than in previous decades. Yet a quick glance at the table reveals that Turkey stands in a league of its own. Having applied for EC membership in 1987, Turkey has been in the accession process for well over two decades. Unlike 48

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Ta b l e 3 . 1 . Stages in the EU Accession Process: Turkey in Comparative Perspective Spain Austria Poland Turkey

Croatia

Application submitted

1977

1989

1997

1987

2003

Commission Opinion

1978

1989

1997

1989

2004

Candidate Status

1978

1989

1997

1999

2004

Accession talks start

1978

1993

1998

2005

2005

Accession talks end

1985

1994

2003

Accession

1986

1995

2004

Croatia, which is expected to enter the EU possibly in 2013, Turkey’s EU membership is nowhere in sight. Turkey’s own particularities, including its size, level of development, and nature of its political system, partly explain why its accession process is ‘objectively’ complex. Yet alone, these ‘objective’ complications cannot explain the tortuous and protracted nature of Turkey’s accession process. To cite one example, the problems surrounding Turkey’s Kurdish question are considerable. In some respects—e.g., political violence—they are graver than the minority problems in other former candidates, such as the Roma in Eastern Europe or the Russian minorities in the Baltics. Yet in other respects—e.g., citizenship and constitutional status—the Kurdish issue is arguably more manageable than minority problems in other countries in the EU or the accession process, including Cyprus, Bosnia, and Northern Ireland. Hence, to these ‘objective’ difficulties, we must add ‘subjective’ considerations, without which we cannot make sense of Turkey’s long march to Europe. As argued in this chapter, these ‘subjective’ considerations relate to the multifaceted nature of the European debate/s on Turkey; debate/s which drive at the heart of the European integration project. European debates have in fact moulded public opinion in Europe and have influenced the pace and shape of EU-Turkey relations. They underpinned the Commission’s 1989 rejection of Turkey’s application for membership in 1987, which accepted Turkey’s eligibility but argued that the country’s economic and political system was too different from that in EC member states (Commission 1989). These debates permeated discussions when Turkey was included in the EU customs union in 1996, and when the December 1997 Luxembourg European Council refused to accord Turkey candidacy status. They were pivotal in granting Turkey candidacy at the December 1999 Helsinki European Council, when the imperative to rebuild broken ties with strategic ally Turkey loomed in the minds European Debates and Stakeholders

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B ox 3 . 1 . Steps in the Accession Process While being a fundamentally political process, EU enlargement proceeds in a set of technical steps. A European country first applies for EU membership. The European Commission is called upon to evaluate the application and publish its ‘opinion’ (avis), deeming whether the country is ‘eligible’ for membership and whether the Council ought to recognize it as a ‘candidate’. In the case of Morocco for example, an application was submitted in July 1987. The Commission rejected the application, viewing Morocco as ineligible on the grounds that it did not consider it to be a ‘European country’, a sine qua non requirement spelled out in the EU Treaty. In the case of Turkey instead, the Commission’s opinion in 1989 recognized Turkey’s eligibility, but considered candidacy to be premature on the grounds of Turkey’s domestic shortcomings. Turkey’s candidacy was granted a decade later. Once recognized as a candidate, the country is called upon to fulfil the 1993 Copenhagen political criteria, in order for the accession process to proceed. Based upon a recommendation by the Commission, the Council determines whether a candidate has fulfilled the criteria and can therefore begin accession negotiations following an agreed ‘Negotiations Framework’. Accession negotiations, a misnomer in many ways, do not entail negotiations as such. They begin with what is known as a ‘screening process’ in which the candidate and the Commission review the—over thirty—‘negotiation chapters’ of the acquis communautaire (i.e., the body of EU laws and regulations) and the candidate’s corresponding domestic laws and practices in order to ascertain the necessary reforms in the latter. Having ‘screened’ the chapters, the Council, on the basis of unanimity, decides whether to ‘open’ and then ‘provisionally close’ each negotiation chapter, on the grounds of agreed upon ‘benchmarks’. Throughout the process, the Commission publishes its yearly ‘Progress reports’, monitoring the candidate country’s preparations.

of decision makers; and again in opening accession negotiations in October 2005, when the Union concurred that Turkey ‘sufficiently’ fulfilled the Copenhagen political criteria. Since 2005, these debates have played a fundamental role in slowing down and complicating Turkey’s accession talks. Indeed it is notable that, although the political decision to grant Turkey candidacy was made in 1999, the public debates that have followed have continued to focus on whether Turkey should join the EU rather than on how Turkey’s accession could take place. 50

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In light of this and in order to understand the dynamics between the US, Turkey, and the EU, this chapter maps European debates on Turkey, outlines the stakeholders involved, and assesses their interests and beliefs as far as EU-Turkey relations are concerned. It addresses these questions in the context of several member states, including those that reject Turkey’s EU membership, those that support Turkey’s EU bid, as well as member states that are either lukewarm or divided on Turkey’s EU prospects. The purpose is to point to the fit and misfit between European and American debates on Turkey, in order to understand who the US speaks to in the EU regarding Turkey and to suggest avenues to explain American influence on EU-Turkey relations, explored in the next chapters of this book.

European Debates on Turkey and EU-Turkey Relations: A Dialogue of the Deaf? Much of the complexity surrounding European debates on EU-Turkey relations is explained by the fact that these debates are pitched at different levels and have often failed to communicate with one another. Depending on the particular issue considered to be most important by European stakeholders, debates have focused on different questions generating a range of opinions on Turkey and EU-Turkey relations. However, these views have not been articulated in response to each other, but rather have developed and have been presented in isolation. A useful key to understanding which aspects stakeholders choose to focus on is to assess the different levels at which these debates are pitched.

The Global Level: The Impact of Turkey’s Accession on the EU’s Role in the World A first level of debate is the global one, featuring debates about Turkey and the EU’s role in the world. This is the level of analysis privileged by the vast majority of stakeholders in the US as well. It is thus the natural domain of transatlantic dialogue on Turkey. At this level, European debates focus predominantly on the economic and foreign policy realms and are rather positive about Turkey’s future membership, highlighting the gains that it would bring to the EU’s role in the world. As former German Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer pleaded: ‘We [Europeans] must join to play the role in the future, and not be dominated by others . . . the only way out is an integrated Europe, and I hope Turkey, which is ready for Europe, can join the European European Debates and Stakeholders

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Union’.1 Similarly a Commission official argued: ‘In geostrategic terms, Turkey is increasingly viewed as a vital partner. Turkey is at the crossroads of three crucial regions, the Balkans, the Middle East and the Caucasus’ (Narbone 2007, 90). Drawing a more explicit link between Turkey’s strategic value and its EU ambitions, Swedish Foreign Minister Carl Bildt stated: ‘the strategic element of Turkey’s prospective membership has become more obvious. It is true that this is an elite debate, but the important steps in the EU project have been elite driven . . . the euro was also not an initiative driven by the demand of the people’.2 Such arguments could have easily come from American counterparts. In other words, when talking to Europeans privileging this level of analysis, Americans have often been ‘singing to the choir’.

The EU, Turkey, and the Global Economy Some debates about Turkey and the EU’s role in the world focus on Turkey’s growth, its rising productivity, its young and growing labour force, its rising trade levels, and growing foreign direct investment (FDI) inflows (Commission 2004b; Independent Commission on Turkey 2009; Rehn 2009; Yalcin Mousseau 2006). They emphasize how these assets would better equip the Union, with its sluggish growth levels and aging population, to face rising competition from emerging economic giants like India or China. As argued by the European Commission (2006, 2), ‘[e]conomically, enlargement has helped to increase prosperity and competitiveness, enabling the enlarged Union to respond better to the challenges of globalisation. This has brought direct benefits for Europe as a whole. Enlargement has increased the EU’s weight in the world and made it a stronger international player’. Making specific reference to Turkey, former German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder declared: ‘EU membership presents economic, political and cultural benefits for both sides: the EU and Turkey. Turkey already belongs to the top twenty economies worldwide. And the speed of its economic development is dramatic. In 20 to 25 years, Turkey will be the fourth or fifth largest economy in Europe, on a par with Italy and France’.3 More broadly, the concern for the EU’s relative decline in view of the global economic recession in 2008–9 and the deep crisis this triggered in the eurozone in 2010 has raised the importance of Turkey in the minds of those Europeans focusing on the global economy. Arguments regarding the economic benefits of Turkey’s European integration also tend to emphasize how these gains would risk serious dilution if the EU were to insert permanent derogations to the full liberalization of the four freedoms for future member Turkey, as suggested by the European Council when launching Turkey’s accession negotiations in October 2005. Hence, the 52

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criticisms arise of the prospect of derogations to the liberalization of agriculture markets and the free movement of persons and workers (Emerson 2004, 2–3). As argued by former Polish Ambassador to Turkey Andrzej Ananicz (2007, 39): ‘it is not too early to ask if we really want this kind of “incomplete” membership for Turkey. While it may reduce fears in Europe, it is difficult to forecast the impact of such an approach on Turkey’s future reform efforts in the sensitive areas of social and regional policy. It should also be calculated that our ageing Europe will need an influx of fresh blood, and Turkey could contribute much to this quest’.

The EU, Turkey, and Energy Security Energy security is another theme privileged by those debating Turkey from a global perspective (Barysch 2007; Roberts 2004). Turkey’s role as an energy and transport hub, facilitating the EU’s much sought after energy diversification, is underlined especially by Central and Eastern European member states who perceive acutely the dependence on single and unpredictable sources of energy supplies—i.e., Russia, as well as by European stakeholders with commercial interests in oil and gas transit routes through Turkey. Hence, as stated by Ananicz (2007, 33): ‘From a security perspective, Turkey’s value is hard to match in Europe. This is . . . also for its vicinity to oil and gas fields in the Middle East and Central Asia’. As echoed by Borut Grgic (2007, 43): ‘Most actors in “new Europe” see the added value of Turkey’s EU accession in its ability to stand as a reliable non-Russian energy transport hub to the Caspian basin, rich in gas and oil’. Debates regarding Turkey and European energy security have risen on the agenda both in response to Russia’s increasing use of its energy leverage in Eastern Europe and the signing in 2009 of the Nabucco gas pipeline agreement between Turkey, Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, and Austria. As argued by Commission President José Manuel Barroso in 2009: ‘Nabucco will provide energy security to Turkey, to South East Europe, and to Central Europe . . . This agreement could . . . open the door to a new era in the relationship between the European Union and Turkey’.4 The EU, Turkey, and European Foreign Policy Finally, debates in this category highlight the assets that Turkey’s inclusion could contribute to the fledging European foreign policy in terms of location, logistics, and ideational resources in neighboring regions such as Russia, the Balkans, the South Caucasus, Central Asia, and the Middle East (Emerson and Tocci 2004). As argued by Ananicz (2007, 39): ‘assuming the EU really wants to develop a CFSP and adopt the necessary institutional set-up to do so, . . . a European Debates and Stakeholders

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Turkey playing “in our team”, would be of inestimable value’. In line with this argument, British Shadow Defence Secretary Liam Fox claimed that Turkey’s EU membership is imperative for geopolitical and military reasons and because Turkey represents a ‘bridge to the Islamic world’.5 More specifically, Turkey could contribute to the development of the CSDP (Emerson and Tocci 2004) and it would allow the EU to project its interests and values in the Middle East and Eurasia (Open Society Foundation 2009). Of particular interest in this respect is the activism of Turkey’s foreign policy under the AKP, which is intent on increasing Turkey’s presence in the Caucasus and the Middle East and improving relations with countries such as Armenia, Russia, Syria, and Iran. In doing so, EU member Turkey can contribute to the EU’s foreign policy by increasing the Union’s influence in neighboring regions (Aydın Düzgit and Tocci 2009). However, Turkey’s activism in the Middle East and Eurasia also raises eyebrows within foreign policy circles in the European continent (Kramer 2009, 4), with the growing concern that Turkey may be losing its European vocation—an argument that mirrors American concerns about ‘losing Turkey’.

The European Level: The Impact of Turkey’s Accession on EU Institutions, Societies, and Economy A second level of debates on Turkey regards the EU as such and focuses on the expected impact of Turkey’s accession on the EU’s internal institutional, political, social, cultural, and economic makeup. Here the arguments emphasize the expected costs of Turkey’s accession far more than the benefits. American stakeholders have ‘spoken to’ these debates far less, although this is not to say that the US has had no indirect influence on them.

Turkey and EU Institutions To start with, some debates have focused on the impact of Turkey’s accession on EU institutions. Here, the most common position is that the EU would function less with a greater number of member states, particularly large ones like Turkey (Raunio and Wiberg 1998; Trechsel 2005, 409–10). Backing this line of thought is a confluence of three arguments. The first is the classic EU debate on widening versus deepening. Here, the argument goes, an enlarged EU would imperil deeper integration, particularly in the political sphere, given that a greater number of different states would magnify the difficulties in reaching internal consensus on the successive steps in the integration process (Guérot 2004). The second argument rejects the prospect that Turkey, as a result of its size, would be granted a primary role 54

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within the Council of Ministers and the European Parliament in terms of voting rights and representation, on a par with founding member states like France and Germany (Bayrou 2004, 1090). The third argument stretches this line of reasoning, claiming that in view of its cultural ‘difference’, its politically sovereignist culture, and its less developed economy, Turkey lacks the EU’s (loosely defined) esprit communautaire. Its membership would thus dilute the cultural, political, and economic cohesion of the Union (Goulard 2004b, 2005). Those who accept these arguments claim that even in the area of foreign policy, where Turkey’s membership is normally associated with key benefits for the Union’s external projection, the greater internal diversity brought about by Turkey’s accession would hinder the EU’s external capabilities in the current (unanimity-based) decision-making framework. The majority of European stakeholders, including those who favor Turkey’s accession, generally believe, however, that before accepting Turkey’s membership, the Union should equip itself with the necessary ‘absorption capacity’ to digest new member states (Arvanitopoulos and Tzifakis 2009). Backing these arguments is the widespread belief in the causality between the 2004 enlargement and the EU’s constitutional malaise between 2005 and 2009. There is also the conviction that the 2007 enlargement took place too hastily, with Romania and Bulgaria being insufficiently prepared to enter the Union.6 Others cast this reasoning into question. Enlargement, alone, has not noticeably complicated the EU’s institutional workings (Aleskerov, Avci, Iakouba, and Türem 2002; Ananicz 2007). Most critically, the EU’s current history teaches that institutional backpedalling typically has been the result of ‘old’ member states, as highlighted by the French, Dutch, and Irish ‘no’ vote to constitutional reform between 2005 and 2009. Furthermore, as far as institutions are concerned, it is easier to digest one big member than several small states. This is not only for problems regarding unanimity and representation, but also because the entry of another large member state would make relatively little difference to the balance between small and large members (Ojanen 2007, 101). Finally, the argument goes, the prospect of enlargement in the past has acted as an incentive for institutional reform (Faber 2006), an incentive that could play out in the case of Turkey’s accession as well. Yet the worries of many stakeholders go well beyond the concern that Turkey’s accession would complicate the EU’s decision-making processes. The fear, coupled with a strong sense of nostalgia for the past, is that Turkey’s accession and ongoing enlargements would ring the death bell of the Union’s federalist aspirations. More generally, it would seal the end of the political project as conceived by the Community’s founding fathers (Le Gloannec 2007). As many European fedEuropean Debates and Stakeholders

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eralists would argue, it is only those who abhor the prospect of a federal Europe (e.g., British conservatives) or those who have lost hope in it (e.g., German Christian Democrats or the Italian center-left), who may be prepared to accept Turkey in the European fold. Indeed, if deepening were to become directly correlated to widening, some anti-federalists who are now favorable to Turkey’s accession could well turn against Turkey’s EU aspirations (Whitman 2007). Their euroskepticism could easily trump their support for Turkey’s accession.

Turkey and the European Electorate Another argument pitched at EU level against Turkey’s accession regards European public opinion. Here, the debate takes different tones. A frequently heard point is that the European project ought to bridge the divide between the EU and the demands, desires, and expectations of the European publics (Le Gloannec 2007). The French, Dutch, and Irish referenda between 2005 and 2009 and the increasingly low turnouts at European Parliament elections are attributed to the rejection by European citizens of an increasingly elitist European project. By the same token, the EU’s so-called enlargement fatigue, first and foremost with respect to Turkey (but also felt with respect to the Western Balkan countries), is connected to the inability of European elites to engage the publics in the debate over the eastern enlargement (Devrim and Schulz 2009). The Union, it is argued, went through its biggest enlargement ever in 2004–2007 with the entry of 12 member states, which almost two decades ago constituted Europe’s much-feared ‘other’. The Western Balkans and Turkey are now channelled into the same accession process. There are a number of aspiring applicants besides them, insistently knocking at the Union’s door. Yet, all this has happened without the remotest engagement of the publics, a lack of engagement that has rendered ‘Brussels’ ever more alien to EU citizens (Timus 2006). It is with these arguments in mind that some criticize the Commission’s technical progress in enlargement and its alleged stifling of the European-wide debate on Turkey’s accession (Le Gloannec 2007). The Commission rebukes many of these points (Narbone 2007). Then Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn (2006) argued that the European political debate on Turkey runs the risk of undermining the credibility of EU policies towards Turkey. If the Union’s right hand lectures Turkey on the Copenhagen criteria, arguing that these are necessary and sufficient conditions for EU entry, while the left hand engages in highly politicized and often populist debate over the desirability of Turkey’s entry, the Union’s credibility in Turkey and beyond risks being seriously undermined. The need to engage with European publics is real and pressing. It is, incidentally, a need that has 56

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always accompanied the highly elitist EU project. Yet those very actors who keep reminding of the importance of taking European citizens seriously do little to insert greater clarity and cool-headedness in European debates on Turkey. Hence, raising the issue of contrary public opinion and calling for national referenda on Turkey’s accession appears to be more of a shield to hide the absence of strong leadership than a genuine concern to remedy the Union’s democratic deficit (Müftüler-Baç 2008).

Turkey and the EU’s Identity Turning to another EU-level debate, a common strand of argument links Turkey’s accession to debates about the European identity (Kastoryano 2006). Views on this highly contested question differ sharply. To those highlighting the essentialist features in the EU’s identity— including culture, religion, and history—Turkey’s membership represents the nemesis of the European Union (Rumelili 2004). EU President Herman Van Rompuy, prior to his appointment as EU president, put it bluntly: ‘An expansion of the EU to include Turkey cannot be considered as just another expansion as in the past. The universal values which are in force in Europe, and which are also fundamental values of Christianity, will lose vigour with the entry of a large and Islamic country such as Turkey’.7 Likewise, de Villiers, leader of the French right-wing Mouvement pour la France, argued that Turkey is not part of Europe ‘neither by its history, nor by its geography, nor by its culture . . . and there is nothing to be ashamed of our roots and no need to open up the “Christian Club” to the outsiders’ (quoted in Yılmaz 2009, 82). Turkey’s EU integration is parallel to the integration of Muslim migrant communities in Europe (Jung 2007). Turkey, it is said, cannot integrate into the EU, just as ‘non-European’ Muslim migrants have failed to integrate into their respective host European countries. As explained by Goulard (2004a), ‘by underestimating the concrete difficulties our societies have to properly integrate Muslims already living in our communities, [if we admit Turkey into the EU] we could end by increasing the risk of a “clash of civilizations” within Europe instead of avoiding it’. Hence, accepting Turkey into the European fold would entail abandoning aspirations to forge a cohesive EU identity, defined through history, culture, and religion (Yılmaz 2009). Following a different line, others doubt Turkey’s membership, not on the basis of religion or culture per se. Rather, they express concerns about Turkish secularism, its evolution under the AKP, and the extent to which TurEuropean Debates and Stakeholders

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EU

US

Geostrategy: Global economy, energy, foreign policy

OVERLAP

Domestic reforms

PARTIAL OVERLAP

Borders and identity, institutions and budget, public opinion

NO OVERLAP

Figure 3.1. European Debates on Turkey and the Scope for Transatlantic Influence

key’s secularism may be considered ‘European’. Above all, they worry about the resurgence of political Islam in Turkey, seen as contrary to the values of European Enlightenment (Bayrou 2004, 1089).8 As emphatically stated by former French Prime Minister Jean-Pierre Raffarin: ‘do we want the river of Islam to enter the riverbed of secularism?’9 More broadly, dealing with Turkey entails confronting the ‘dormant dilemmas’ embedded in the relationship between religion and politics in Europe (Hurd-Shakman 2006). Opponents of these arguments both highlight the importance of Europe’s cultural and religious traditions and refute the claim that a European identity is premised on monocultural interpretations. They emphasize instead the importance of fostering unity in diversity, encouraging the development of an EU identity based on multiple identities (Rumelili 2008). In this respect, Turkey’s accession is viewed as a litmus test and an opportunity to develop Europe as an entity based on rules, rights, and institutions as well as on political traditions, political experiences, and cultural memories (Athanassopoulou 2008). It is also viewed as an essential signal to encourage the integration of Turkish migrants in member states such as Germany, France, Denmark, Austria, and Holland.10 A related question that receives increased attention across the EU is the link between identity and borders. To those viewing a European identity through a culturalist lens, geographical borders represent an integral element separating and defining ‘us’ and the ‘other’. Hence, Turkey should be kept out of the EU 58

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on the basis of its different culture, religion, and history. Its otherness would be physically expressed through the delineation and consolidation of the EU’s borders well within the boundaries of the European continent. As (in)famously put by then President of the European Convention on the Future of Europe, Giscard d’Estaing, in 2002: Turkey should fall beyond the borders of Europe because it has a ‘different culture, a different approach, a different way of life . . . its capital is not in Europe, 95 percent of its population lives outside Europe, it is not a European country . . . in my opinion it would be the end of the EU’.11 Similarly, Member of the European Parliament Jean-Louis Bourlanges argued in 2005: ‘Turkey is not a part of Europe and it is foolish to persist in building a multi-civilizational EU with unlimited, ever-extending borders’.12 Member states in the hinterland of Europe are, unsurprisingly, more receptive to this interpretation of borders than members lying on the periphery of the Union. A linked yet more sophisticated border argument against Turkey’s accession downplays its cultural dimension, camouflaging it through a Europeanist political discourse. The definition of the EU’s borders, the argument goes, is a critical political step in the formation of a European identity. Without borders, the very existence of the Union’s political identity would be at stake. Hence, as put by French President Nicolas Sarkozy (2007): ‘I want a political Europe, a Europe with an identity, and therefore a Europe with borders . . . Turkey is not a European country, it does not have a place within the European Union. Europe without borders would represent the death of the great idea of a political Europe. A Europe without borders would risk condemning Europe to become a sub-region of the United Nations. I cannot accept this’. Following this argument, the delineation of borders is conceptualized as a political act, rather than as a preordained cultural inevitability (Le Gloannec 2007). In other words, for reasons of political expediency, the European polity would choose not to extend its borders to Iraq, Iran, and Syria by refuting Turkey’s accession. The EU’s borders would be determined on the basis of their functional utility in pursuing the Union’s interests, defining a European identity, and allowing the European polity to live in a comfort zone, protected by friendly buffer states such as Turkey. The political outlook permeating these views is strongly eurocentric. Europe’s world would be confined to itself and its neighbouring ‘other’, in contrast to the more global outlook espoused by arguments highlighting the EU’s role in the world discussed above. Yet, whether articulated in its clear-cut culturalist variant or through more nuanced political arguments, the EU border argument is emblematic and symptomatic of the overall confusion over what a European identity is all about. As interpreted by former Dutch Minister of Justice Ernst Hirsch Ballin, ‘the problem is not Turkey’s entry into the EU—crossing a supposed border between European Debates and Stakeholders

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Europe and Asia or between Christianity and Islam—but rather the lack of identification with shared ideals among the people inside the EU. This problem is within Europe’s borders: if you don’t know who you are, nor what you stand for, the rejection of the newcomer reflects your own state of mind. A rejection of Turkey’s application for membership will not cure the EU’s problems’.13

Turkey and the EU Budget A last set of arguments pitched at the EU level relates to the economic realm. As opposed to the rather pro-Turkey positions embedded in analyses focusing on the EU’s role in the global economy, more inward-looking economic arguments tend to be more skeptical of Turkey’s accession. A prime issue relates to the budgetary costs of Turkey’s EU membership, given Turkey’s size and level of economic development which stands below the EU average (Derviş, Gros, Öztrak, and Işık 2004). Yet, rather than the absolute cost to the EU budget, which in terms of individual member state contributions is unlikely to change radically, it is the relative distribution of EU funds that would alter as a result of Turkey’s accession (Ananicz 2007). Hence, structural funds would be redirected away from current recipients in Southern and Eastern Europe and the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) would be seriously affected by the entry of a large new member state with a significant agricultural sector (Szymanski 2006). Arguments focusing on budgetary issues are especially speculative and prone to populist fear-mongering. Not only is it fictional to speculate about the EU budget or the CAP in the mid- or long-term future, but the rate of change in Turkey’s economy is such that predicting Turkey’s impact on the EU’s budgetary, cohesion, or agricultural policies with any reasonable degree of precision is almost impossible (Derviş et al. 2004). Notwithstanding, arguments regarding the economic costs of Turkey’s accession for those focusing on the internal EU level of debate have gained currency since the global economic crisis in 2008–2009 and the repercussions in the European monetary area in 2010–11. Not unlike arguments regarding the European identity, fears and concerns about Turkey’s economic impact reflect more an intra-European malaise over the state of the Union than a cool-headed assessment of Turkey’s accession.

The National Level: The Impact of Turkey’s Accession on the Member States and Turkey A final level of debate privileged by many European stakeholders is the national one: the effect of Turkey’s accession on national economies, societies, and security. 60

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Turkey and Immigration In this respect, the most important source of member state concern is that of Turkish immigration, particularly within countries that already host large Turkish communities such as Germany, Austria, and the Netherlands. In these states, populist-fed economic fears of an invasion of Turkish migrants have replaced former worries about Eastern European immigration. As put by one observer: ‘judging by the public hysteria over the Polish plumber, the Turkish tradesman may be in for a very tough time’.14 While latent in view of the small size of Turkish communities, similar worries could tilt the relatively favorable attitudes towards Turkey in member states like Italy, Spain, or the UK (Alessandri and Canan 2008; Whitman 2008). In Germany and Austria, migration concerns are linked to wider fears about economic globalization and the erosion of the welfare state, despite the fact that the immigration of young Turkish migrants could help aging European states confront their monumental pension system problems (Günay 2007). Others cast their arguments in the more emotional language of societal integration or lack thereof (Göle 2006; Jung 2007). As put by Nicolas Sarkozy: ‘We have a problem of integration of Muslims that raises the issue of Islam in Europe. To say it is not a problem is to hide from reality. If you let one hundred million Turkish Muslims come in, what will come of it?’ (quoted in Yavuz 1997, 86). The case in Germany of former member of the Executive Board of the Deutsche Bundesbank Thilo Sarrazin’s book, Deutschland schafft sich ab (Germany Abolishes Itself), in 2010 is indicative of how acrimonious the tone of this debate has become in recent years. Unlike arguments pitched at the global level, arguments focusing on Turkey’s impact on the member states tend to look at Turkey’s size and demography as a threat rather than as an opportunity. It is these concerns that have induced the EU to insert the possibility of permanent derogations to the full liberalization of the four freedoms in future member Turkey, opening the prospect of a second-class Turkish membership of the EU. Turkey and National Security Another element of member state interest in EU-Turkey relations concerns the realm of security. For some countries such as Greece or Cyprus, the understanding of national security hinges on relations with Turkey. For Greece, national security is the primary reason why Turkey’s accession is accepted, yet only on the basis of Turkey’s fulfillment of what Greece would like to see framed as clear-cut conditionalities relating to Greek security interests (Ifantis 2007). These conditions would include issues directly related to Greek interests such as the Aegean, Cyprus and the rights of the Orthodox European Debates and Stakeholders

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community in Turkey, as well as issues indirectly connected to Greek interests such as the rebalancing of Turkey’s civil-military relations, which would allow, inter alia, Greece to cut its large defense budget. A similar argument applies to Cyprus, where the impact of Turkey’s membership is discussed exclusively within the framework of the Cyprus conflict. However, mirroring Greece’s approach in the first two decades of its membership, the Republic of Cyprus is more inclined to use all sticks at its disposal lest Turkey complies with Greek Cypriot demands. Hence this has resulted in the freezing of over a dozen chapters in Turkey’s accession negotiations since 2006 and the adamant opposition against the Direct Trade Regulation, proposed in 2004 by the European Commission as a means to lift the isolation over northern Cyprus. In the case of other member states such as the UK, the security impact of Turkey’s accession is framed in relation to other threats and interests. Turkey’s accession process and the impact of its membership are viewed positively because of the prospects for deepening Anglo-Turkish police and intelligence cooperation with regard to the fight against terrorism (Whitman 2007). The 2003 Al-Qaeda bombings in Istanbul created a close bilateral tie between Turkey and the UK, inducing London to emphasize the security benefits of Turkey’s accession to member state Britain.

EU-Turkey Relations and Turkey’s Reform Process A final national level of debate pertains to Turkey itself, and more precisely the reforms that Turkey has undergone as a result of the accession process. These questions rose to the forefront in 2001–2005, when Turkey passed a series of constitutional reforms and legal harmonization packages in order to democratize the country and meet the EU’s Copenhagen political criteria necessary to open accession negotiations. In those years, EU actors generally praised Turkey’s momentous efforts, while also criticizing pending shortcomings and suggesting further avenues for reform (Commission 2002, 2003, 2004a, 2005). The dominant line in member states supporting Turkey’s EU membership such as Greece, Italy, Spain, Sweden, and the UK was and continues to be: ‘the EU’s door is open for Turkey, but the corollary of openness is a rigorous application of the conditions’ (Vanhanen 2006). Their argument has traditionally been that when Turkey complies with EU conditions, a large constituency of Europeans will be persuaded about Turkey’s European vocation, while much of the wind would be taken out of the sails of those who are skeptical of Turkey’s EU bid. Indeed, as Turkey Europeanizes, its domestic political system, and also its economy and its foreign policy, would increasingly resemble those in the EU. 62

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Ta b l e 3 . 2 European Debates on Turkey Level of Debate Global European Thematic debates on EU-Turkey relations

National

Global economy

EU institutions

Immigration

Energy security

EU democracy and National security public opinion and defence

European foreign policy

European identity and borders

Turkish democracy and reform

EU budget

Since the beginning of Turkey’s accession process, the levels of trade between Turkey and the EU have steadily risen and European FDI in Turkey has gathered steam (Narbone and Tocci 2007). Also in the realm of foreign policy, Turkey increasingly mirrors the EU, as revealed by positions adopted by Turkey and the EU in multilateral forums such as the United Nations (UN) (Luif, Senyücel, and Ak 2009). However, particularly since 2005, many of these arguments have lost headway in the EU. This is the result of the slowdown in Turkey’s EU-related reforms, which has given Turcophiles in Europe less to boast about regarding Turkey’s accession process. On the opposite side of the coin, the EU’s increasingly cold feet regarding Turkey’s membership prospect has meant that debates about whether Turkey should join the Union have overshadowed debates about how Turkey should join, that is, about Turkey’s reforms in the context of the accession process. The ensuing sense of rejection amongst Turkish elites and citizens in turn has led to a significant decline in Turkish support for EU membership (Transatlantic Trends 2009, 24; 2010, 56) making EU-related reforms appear both more costly and less necessary. Table 3.2 summarizes the plethora of European debates on Turkey, categorizing them according to the level at which they are articulated.

European Stakeholders on Turkey: Who Talks About Turkey? Debates on EU-Turkey relations are varied and at times non-communicating also because there is a wide set of stakeholders within the EU who has participated in these debates. These stakeholders range from state and political actors to a wide range of groups in the private and civil society sectors. European Debates and Stakeholders

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EU Institutions and Member State Institutions A first type of stakeholder includes official institutions: EU institutions including the European Commission (and the Directorate General for Enlargement within it), the European External Action Service, the Council of Ministers, the European Council, and the European Parliament; and member state governments, foreign ministries, parliaments, and other relevant state actors. Whereas the Commission, with a mandate to negotiate enlargement, may be considered as a stakeholder in its own right with specific arguments regarding Turkey, the Council and Parliament reflect the views emerging from member state governments and bureaucracies. When it comes to the member states instead, foreign ministries tend to have greater influence on EU-Turkey relations in those countries in which Turkey is a low-level political issue, such as in Poland or the UK. The same applies to countries where there is a relatively strong bipartisan support for Turkey’s EU membership, such as the UK, Italy, or Spain, and therefore where Turkey is not a topic in domestic political debate. Bureaucracies both at member state level (e.g., ministries of foreign affairs) and at EU level (e.g., the Commission) tend to focus their arguments on two issues: foreign policy and Turkey’s reform process. In turn, their views regarding Turkey’s membership tend to be rather positive given Turkey’s potential contribution to EU foreign policy as well as its incomplete yet remarkable domestic transformation. The reasons bureaucracies focus on these issues are twofold. First, bureaucracies dealing with Turkey are normally located in foreign ministries and in foreign affairs committees in parliaments and therefore have a natural inclination to pitch their arguments at a global and foreign policy level. Second, bureaucracies are sensitive to pacta sunt servanda arguments, whereby Turkey ought to be judged and to proceed with the accession process on the exclusive basis of its reforms and thus its compliance with EU conditions. The European Commission in particular has been given a mandate by the Council premised on this very logic. Official institutions in general, and governments and foreign ministries in particular, are the most exposed European stakeholders to American views on Turkey. Especially when it comes to foreign ministries, this has meant a considerable degree of overlap (though not necessarily agreement) with American debates regarding the global economy, European foreign policy, and European energy security. 64

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Political Parties Second, we find political parties and the views they express in the context of national parliaments and the European Parliament. This is the domain where we see the largest degree of variance across member states in terms of favored debates and ensuing positions on Turkey’s accession process. It is these differences, rooted in the domestic politics and trajectories of each member state, which above all else explain the absence of a single European debate on Turkey. The area of similarity and overlap across member states lies in the extremes. Far right-wing parties tend to oppose resolutely Turkey’s membership on the grounds of identity defined through religion and culture. These parties are also backed by some segments within Catholic parties across the EU. Hence, the similar rhetoric permeating the Lega Nord in Italy, FPÖ in Austria, the Dansk Folkeparti in Denmark, the Mouvement pour la France, LAOS in Greece, and ATAKA in Bulgaria, as well as some elements within Law & Justice in Poland, the CDU/CSU in Germany, or the Union of Christian Democrats in Italy (Alessandri and Canan 2008; Günay 2008; Jung 2008; Le Gloannec 2008; Fotiou and Ifantis 2008). A particularly strident articulation of this line came from Mario Borghezio, head of the Italian Northern League delegation to the European Parliament: ‘[b]e aware of the Turks and other Muslims, all across Padania [Italy’s northern plains] the cross of St. George waves in every corner . . . never, let alone if it is the Turks to demand it, we will give up our sacred symbols’.15 Parties on the liberal and left ends of the spectrum instead tend to mildly oppose Turkey’s accession while being open to changing their positions. They reject Turkey’s membership because of Turkey’s incomplete and faltering reform process. More specifically and echoing some of the concerns voiced by the US Congress, they criticize Turkey’s human rights record, its treatment of the Kurds, its reluctance to recognize the Armenian genocide, as well as its highly deregulated labour markets. However, they would be ready to accept Turkey’s membership if Turkey were to fully reform and are enthusiastic of Turkey’s contribution to a multicultural and inclusive Europe. Their opposition to Turkey’s accession is based on their assessment of Turkey’s political, social, and economic situation, and not on a culturalist reading of what Turkey’s identity is. Following this line of thinking we find Rifondazione Comunista in Italy, Socialistisk Folkeparti in Denmark, as well as the Greens in Austria. Hence, for example, although the Austrian Greens supported the opening of accession negotiations with Turkey, two Green Members of the European Parliament—Johannes Voggenhuber and Eva LichtenEuropean Debates and Stakeholders

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berger—voted against it for reasons related to Turkey’s human rights record and in particular women rights (Günay 2008). When it comes to the mass center-left and center-right parties in the EU, there is no single debate and position that dominates. In some member states we find strong bipartisan support in favor of Turkey’s accession for reasons ranging from foreign policy (Italy and the UK) to national security (Greece). In other member states there is weak bipartisan support for Turkey’s accession (Denmark, Poland) or divisions cutting within and between party lines (Germany). In these countries, mainstream parties are persuaded about the foreign policy gains to be reaped by Turkey’s membership while being concerned about the identity implications for the EU. This often leads to vague and contradictory party positions, including the German Christian Democrats’ concomitant support for continuing accession negotiations and for an ill-defined ‘privileged partnership’ between Turkey and the EU. Finally, in a third group of member states there is a strong bipartisan rejection of Turkey’s EU bid for reasons related to EU institutions, immigration, identity, and borders (Austria and France).

Business Third, we find business, which across all member states represents the single most ardent, committed, and undivided supporter of Turkey’s EU cause for reasons linked to the competitiveness of an enlarged EU in the global economy. Claims that Turkey is ‘already in Europe’ in view of its participation in the EU customs union, as claimed by then president of the Italian Confindustria Luca Cordero di Montezemolo, may give rise to doubts regarding the degree to which European businesses are truly committed to Turkey’s membership.16 However, most business stakeholders across member states as well as pan-European groupings such as the Confederation of European Businesses confirm the importance attributed to Turkey’s reform process, which they view as being intrinsically tied to the anchor of membership, a line that is frequently echoed within the US. While EU business stakeholders consider Turkey to be already ‘in Europe’, their desire and expectation is that Turkey will become a full member state of the EU. In this line, for example, Dansk Industri published a report in 2004—Tyrkiet på vej! (Turkey on the way)— which presented its members and the public with the opportunities associated with Turkey’s EU accession. Likewise, French businesses contributed to the financing of the Saison de la Turquie in 2008 and have financed and participated in the Institut du Bosphore, aimed at restoring confidence in French-Turkish relations. Interestingly, business actors have tended to be supportive of Turkey’s accession prospects even in the most Turkey-skeptic member states such as 66

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France and Austria. As declared by an Austrian businessman: ‘what they [the government] do ruins our business. We try hard to be commissioned, but our Turkish partners frown at us, because Austrian politicians only put obstacles in our way’.17 This said, European businesses are relatively silent stakeholders in the EU-Turkey debate, having influence on government positions, but not exposing themselves in public debate. With few exceptions, the strong and committed support of business stakeholders has not translated into a vocal EU-wide economic lobby in support of Turkey’s cause (Jung 2008).

Trade Unions, Professional Associations, and Think Tanks Fourth, we find trade unions, professional associations, and civil society. Here, the story to be told is fairly consistent across member states, and most notably in Germany, Italy, and France. While not being outspoken on the matter, trade unions tend to take an interest in Turkey and are open to the prospect of Turkey’s accession. At the very least they do not oppose Turkey’s membership for reasons related to religion, culture, and identity, given their general embrace of the notion of a multicultural Europe. However, trade unions are concerned with the state of labour rights in Turkey and the deregulation of the Turkish labour market, which, they fear, could either spill into the EU or may generate unfair competitive pressures in member state labour markets. This is particularly true of some sectors, such as the agricultural one in member states like Italy or France, as articulated by organizations such as the Fédération Nationale des Syndicats d’Exploitants Agricoles in France. Trade unions thus tend to be rather skeptical of the progress made by Turkey regarding the protection of workers’ rights. As put by Giorgio Cipriani, trade unionist at the Italian car company FIAT: ‘I’m in favour of Turkey joining the EU’ . . . [but] membership can be granted only if social besides economic standards are met’ (Alessandri and Canan 2008, 24). Civil society organizations and in particular research centers and think tanks, both within member states and at EU level, also take an active interest in Turkey. To name a few at EU level: the Centre for European Policy Studies; the EU Institute for Security Studies and the European Policy Centre; while at member state level the Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (Germany), the Institut Français des Relations Internationales (France), the Centre for European Reform (UK), the Istituto Affari Internazionali (Italy), and the Real Istituto Elcano (Spain), among many others. Virtually all of the major national and EU-wide think tanks have either worked on or expressed opinions on Turkey. Given that these organizations have an explicitly international outlook, their European Debates and Stakeholders

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views on Turkey tend to be positive and almost exclusively focused on Turkey’s reform process and contribution to European foreign policy. Alongside state actors, research centers are considerably exposed to American debates on Turkey. Even more so than in the case of state actors, there is a broad overlap and convergence of views across the Atlantic. Yet when it comes to public debates in Europe, think tanks have a fairly marginal voice. European think tanks are neither rooted in public constituencies, nor are they as organically linked to the political and state establishments, unlike in the United States.

The Media Fifth, we find the media. On the whole, the media tend to paint a rather negative image of Turkey, driven above all by its commercial logic whereby stereotypes, sensationalism, and alarmism ‘sell’. This is certainly true of the tabloid press in countries like Poland and the UK, television in Germany, and in particular channels such as ARD and ZDF (Hafez and Richter 2007), but also, to a lesser degree, of the national dailies across member states, with the exceptions of Germany and the UK and dailies such as the Financial Times or the Süddeutsche Zietung. Cross-cutting tendencies in the media include ‘culturalizing’ political issues and reporting about Turkey’s accession to the EU in the context of Islam and migration, as well as focusing on tragic incidents or crises, and linking these back to the depiction of Turkey as the ‘other’ (Svendsen 2006). Hence, the peaks in media attention on Turkey have occurred during moments of crisis and/or culture/religion-related drama, such as the 1998 ‘Öcalan affair’, the assassination of the Italian priest Andrea Santoro in 2006, or the headscarf controversy in 2007, rather than during key moments of EU-Turkey decision making and reforms.

Churches Sixth, we find the churches. As far as the Catholic Church is concerned, the message of the Vatican has turned from negative to cautious, as Pope Benedict XVI in his 2006 visit to Turkey toned down his previously clearcut rejection of Turkey’s EU membership.18 Nonetheless, several Catholic personalities have been strident in their rejection of Turkey’s accession for reasons related to Europe’s ‘Christian identity’. In 2007, Tadeusz Płoski, field bishop of the Polish Army, hinted at the implications of Turkey’s EU accession referring back the Battle of Vienna: ‘At those times, in 1683, when Poles saved Europe from the Islamic invasion, Turks had been planning to turn Europe into a European Caliphate’ (quoted in Balcer 2008, 55). 68

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Other representatives of the Catholic Church instead have insisted on the need for Turkey to ensure the protection of Christian minority rights and heritage, echoing some of the calls coming from the US Congress. In 2004, the Polish Church issued a memorandum calling upon the government to accept the launch of accession negotiations with Turkey, while insisting on greater protection of Christians’ rights in Turkey (Balcer 2008, 54). Even more forthcoming, Hyppolite Simon, Archbishop of Clermont-Ferrand and deputy president of the Conference of the Bishops of France, argued: ‘to exclude Turkey would amount to giving up hope for Turkish Christians to ever live in a democracy’ (quoted in Le Gloannec 2008, 128). Likewise, Protestant churches in Germany and France have discussed Turkey both in the context of religious freedoms in Turkey as well as in terms of secularism and its meaning in Europe (Lippert 2008; Le Gloannec 2008). They tend not to oppose Turkey’s accession process but place a premium on Turkey’s compliance with religion-related conditions, including Christian minority rights, the right to convert to another religion, the headscarf question, the challenge of religious fundamentalism, and the need for interfaith dialogue. This fairly consistent message of churches across member states must be mapped against the different degrees of influence that the churches yield within them. On one end of the spectrum, we find Italy and Poland, where the views of the Vatican hold considerable sway on public opinion. On the other end, we find the UK, Denmark, and Greece, where the Church either is conditionally favorable to Turkey’s accession (Greece) or has little sway over public opinion (UK and Denmark). In the middle we find Austria, France, and Germany, where both Catholic and Protestant churches have spoken out on Turkey but wield influence only over specific sectors of society rather than on public opinion writ large.

Diasporas A final group of stakeholders in EU-Turkey relations includes Diaspora communities. Turkish migrant communities are by and large ‘silent stakeholders’. This is either because of their small numbers (Poland, Italy), because they are weakly organized (Austria, France, Denmark), because they are relatively well-integrated and thus ‘disappear’ in the public space (Italy), or because the political system reduces the ability of community groups to make an impact through electoral politics (UK). Only in Germany, in view of the sheer size of the Turkish community, the EU-Turkey cause is supported by well-known German citizens of Turkish origin in the realms of politics, business, culture, and entertainment. However, the integration of these perEuropean Debates and Stakeholders

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sonalities in their host country has meant that their commitment to Turkey’s EU accession has often not gone beyond rhetorical support and ad hoc initiatives. By contrast, in member states such as France, Denmark, Germany, and Austria, the real and perceived non-integration of Turkish migrant communities has entailed on the one hand that they have been ‘silent stakeholders’ in public debate and on the other that they have been used as a critical argument against Turkey’s EU bid by other vocal stakeholders. The relative passivity of Turkish Diasporas contrasts with the activism of the French of Armenian origin. While not being a monolithic community, the level of integration and organization of the French Armenians has allowed them to occupy much of the space left vacant by an unresponsive leadership regarding EU-Turkey relations (Le Gloannec 2008). Unsurprisingly, their attitudes towards Turkey’s EU membership are rather negative and centered on Turkey’s domestic shortcomings in particular with regard to its non-recognition of the Armenian genocide. As in the case of Armenian Americans, many French Armenians view Turkey’s process of normalization with Armenia as problematic insofar as they believe that it jeopardizes the status of Nagorno Karabakh, implies a recognition of the border with Turkey, and buries the prospects of genocide recognition.19 Table 3.3 summarizes the different stakeholders within member states regarding EU-Turkey relations, attributing to each set of stakeholders the debates they favor and the positions they adopt regarding EU-Turkey relations.

European Interests, Perceptions, and Prejudices Regarding Turkey Having mapped EU-Turkey debates and identified the key stakeholders engaged in these debates, let us turn to a third question: what are the underlying motivations underpinning these debates and positions? Interests, perceptions, and prejudices all explain European debates on Turkey.

Domestic Politics and Interests European debates on Turkey are conditioned by stakeholder interests within their domestic systems.

Domestic Interests and Identity Politics One factor influencing stakeholder interests is the extent and manner in which Turkey’s accession process is linked to national identity politics in member states. Wherever EU-Turkey discussions become part of the 70

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Ta b l e 3 . 3 European Stakeholders and Debates on Turkey Stakeholders Debates Positions State institutions

Foreign policy

Conditionally in favor

Political parties

Identity and borders

Turkey’s reforms Turkey’s reforms

Resolutely against to strongly in favor

Foreign policy National security EU institutions Immigration Business

The EU in the global economy

Strongly in favor

European energy security Unions, professional associations and civil society

Turkey’s reforms

Churches

The rights of Christian minorities Resolutely against to conditionally in favor EU identity and Christianity

Media

Identity and culture

The EU’s multicultural identity Foreign policy, energy and the global economy

Immigration Diaspora communities

Conditionally in favor to strongly in favor

Turkey’s reforms Armenian genocide

Conditionally in favor to resolutely against Resolutely against to conditionally in favor

Immigration EU identity debates on national identity, EU-Turkey relations tend to become a hot topic in domestic politics. In France, for example, the Turkey debate is inextricably tied to the domestic political ‘battle’ between secularists and Catholics within political parties, civil society, academia, and the media, whereby the former appreciate Turkey’s secularism while the latter oppose Turkey’s EU membership in view of Turkey’s ‘different’ religion (Le Gloannec 2007). In Germany, Austria, the Netherlands, and Denmark, debates on national identity are related to views on the role of Turkish and Muslim migrant comEuropean Debates and Stakeholders

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munities in the definition of national identities. In Germany—the member state with by far the largest Turkish Diaspora in Europe—the debate about Turkey’s accession reflects the different approaches to the German identity (European Stability Initiative 2006), ranging from former Chancellor Helmut Kohl’s emphasis on Christianity to former Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer’s focus on multiculturalism (Stelzenmüller 2007). The Austrian debate is also interesting (European Stability Initiative 2008), not least in view of the fact that it sparked, rather unexpectedly and overwhelmingly negatively, in 2004–5. Prior to 2004, Turkey was hardly debated at all in Austria, and certainly not in terms of identity, religion, and migration. Yet when the debate was ignited in the context of domestic political competition—i.e., the rise of the FPÖ and the need for the two people’s parties to react—prejudices imbued in xenophobic rhetoric spread like wildfire (Günay 2008). By contrast, and in view of the small Turkish communities in Finland, Italy, Poland, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, or the UK, debates about national identity in these countries have little to do with Turkey, explaining in part the lack of public debate about Turkey beyond expert levels. Yet, as the Austrian case suggests, if EU-Turkey relations were to become an issue in the contested definition of national identity in these countries, the level of attention to Turkey in public debate could rise, not necessarily to the benefit of Turkey’s accession process.

Domestic Interests and Contact with Turkey Another factor shaping stakeholder interests in EU-Turkey relations is the level and type of contact with Turkey. Again, depending on the degree and nature of contact and acquaintance with Turkey, views of EU-Turkey relations change radically. In countries such as the UK and Poland, Turkey is debated predominantly within private elite circles, in which expert discussion encourages a relatively detached and fine-tuned assessment of the pros and cons of Turkey’s accession. In other contexts, the contacts and interests of specific groups shape the nature of the debate on Turkey. The Armenian Diaspora in France or the defense establishment in the UK, for example, generate and feed ideas which shape national views on EU-Turkey relations. In the case of the former, this has meant an acute French sensitivity to Turkey’s recognition of the Armenian genocide; in the case of the latter, to a widespread British appreciation of the security assets that Turkey’s EU membership would entail. Geographical proximity also plays a role. Geography affects the degree and type of contact between EU actors and Turkey. Hence, Turkey plays a more prominent role in Greek and Cypriot debates than Finnish ones. 72

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Whereas in Greece and Cyprus, Turkey represents the single most pressing national security question, the same is hardly true for member states that are farther away. Despite incomparable differences in terms of absolute size and weight, to Finns for example, the importance of Estonia’s EU membership was far greater than that of Turkey (Ojanen 2007). Economic and social contact is also crucial. The rising trade levels between Turkey and Italy, the UK and Germany; the growing British, German, and Italian FDI in Turkey; the growing trend of German and British property investments in Turkey as well as tourism in Turkish coastal resorts, all contribute to spreading ideas about the positive impact of Turkey’s membership in these three countries. This contrasts with other member states such as Austria, whose business, tourism, and trade links with Turkey are still rather low. Finally historical ties play an important and often negative role (Deringil 2007), rendering Austria, Bulgaria, Greece, or Cyprus’s instinctive attitudes towards Turkey more skeptical than those of other member states. In Austria’s case, the ‘Battle of Vienna syndrome’ has resurrected the notion of the Turks as the unknown ‘other’. In Greece and Bulgaria instead (although not in Romania), negative stereotypes derive from the period of Ottoman rule over the Orthodox population. In Cyprus instead, the Greek Cypriot community focuses on more recent history, and in particular the 1974 Turkish invasion of the island and its aftermath.

Perceptions of Europe and Turkey Alongside and interacting with interests, European ideas about Europe and Turkey are also critical in conditioning relations between Turkey and the EU.

Ideas of Europe European debates on Turkey are heavily shaped by different perceptions of Europe within the EU. Different ideas of what the EU is or should be shape how stakeholders view Turkey’s accession. Simply put, differences in attitudes depend on whether the EU is perceived as a matter of domestic or of foreign policy. When the EU is viewed through the lens of domestic policy, the focus lies on the ‘inside’: on factors affecting the EU’s internal setup in terms of institutions, society, economics, identity, and culture. It is the view of the EU as an internal and ‘domestic’ European matter that raises the stakes of questions such as Turkey’s impact on EU institutions, the EU budget, social coheEuropean Debates and Stakeholders

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sion, and agriculture. For those viewing Turkey through a domestic lens, the country’s size is a major source of discomfort because of the political, institutional, economic, social, and cultural impact Turkey would have on the EU’s internal institutional and political balances. This sets Turkey apart from the countries of the eastern enlargement (with the partial exception of Poland) as well as those in the Western Balkans, whose small size eased/eases the potential worries of ‘large’ member states. In fact, concerns about Turkey’s size are felt most acutely by the largest member states, particularly the founding members—France and Germany—who want to maintain their hold over the future of the integration process. The perception of the EU as an internal political project by many in France and Germany also heightens the importance attributed to issues such as Turkey’s impact on migration flows and more broadly on the EU’s identity. Rising and changing migration patterns not only have implications for national identity. They also affect the formation of the EU’s identity, a question viewed as critical by those highlighting the EU as a political project. Unlike the case of Turkey, in Central and Eastern Europe, not only was migration a less politicized and polarizing matter, but also enlargement was supported by the widely held identity narrative of the ‘reunification of Europe’. For others, such as British conservatives, it is precisely the dilution of the European political project resulting from ongoing enlargements that consolidates support for Turkey’s accession. In this respect, Italy is an interesting outlier. Despite being a founding member state and historically and instinctively integrationist in nature, Rome is receptive to the international (more than the domestic) considerations related to Turkey’s accession, as we shall see in chapter 4, not least because they are voiced across the Atlantic. By contrast, those who view the EU primarily through the lens of international politics and economics tend to focus on different issues, with correspondingly different positions on Turkey. Many in the UK, Finland, Poland, or Slovenia perceive the EU as a matter of foreign policy. As such, they are far more inclined to highlight the impact that Turkey would have on the EU as an international actor in neighbouring regions such as the Middle East, the Caucasus, and Central Asia. As opposed to those who view the Union as a matter of domestic policy and express concern about extending the Union’s identity and borders to the Middle East, viewing this very fact through the lens of foreign policy encourages more positive views about Turkey’s EU membership. Seen from a foreign policy angle, Poles, Germans, and Slovenes praise Turkey as an asset in promoting Europe’s energy security; the British and Danes emphasize Turkey’s contribution to EU-NATO cooperation and 74

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strengthened transatlantic relations; security specialists highlight Turkey’s input in EU defense capabilities. To these stakeholders, the internal dimension of the EU is of secondary importance. Hence, for example, even if a Polish security specialist appreciates that Turkey’s membership may involve a redistribution of structural funds away from Poland, he/she may well favor Turkey’s accession in view of the positive implications it would have for the EU as a foreign policy actor and for the Union’s energy security.

Prejudices and Misperceptions about Turkey Equally important are perceptions, misperceptions, and prejudices about Turkey itself. Particularly after the attacks on September 11, 2001, and alongside a heightened securitization of migration in Europe (Bigo 2008; Guiraudon and Lahav 2006), Turkey is frequently viewed both by supporters and opponents of its EU membership as a Muslim or ‘Islamic’ country. The current geopolitical context encourages many in Europe and Turkey to highlight religion as a main defining feature of what Turkey is, what it can contribute to Europe, and what it detracts from it. Whether in favor of or opposed to Turkey’s EU membership, viewing Turkey through the lens of ‘Islam’ means assuming that Turkey is the ‘other’, an assumption that ultimately hinders Turkey’s European integration. Approaching Turkey through the lens of Islam usually works directly against EU-Turkey relations. Turkey’s European integration is resisted by those who associate it with the failure of integrating Muslim migrant communities in Europe (Goulard 2004a). The expected failure of migrant integration fans fears about Turkey’s EU accession and bolsters claims that Turkey, like Muslim communities in Europe, will never conform to EU standards in view of its ‘difference’.20 Less frequently, Turkey’s ‘otherness’ is used as an argument in favor of its EU accession. To those viewing the EU as a matter of domestic policy, the integration of Muslim Turkey could aid the integration of Muslim migrants into the EU, regardless of whether these communities have any connection to Turkey beyond the loose link of religion. To those viewing the EU as a domain of foreign policy, the integration of ‘Muslim Turkey’ can help the EU confront its security challenges vis-à-vis the ‘Islamic world’, ranging from terrorism to illegal migration. Turkey, the argument goes, can represent a ‘model’ for and ‘bridge’ to other ‘Islamic’ countries; an argument that is also heard frequently in America. These ‘positive’ arguments about Turkey, however, are based on precisely the same mental categories, the same forms of othering, as ‘negative’ arguments shunning Turkey in view of its culture and religion. In other words, the mental categories used are the same, irrespective European Debates and Stakeholders

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of whether the arguments are set in the framework of the clash of civilizations or the alliance/dialogue of civilizations. In both cases, two identity boxes are hermetically sealed, leaving Turkey in the uncomfortable position of having to act as an experiment of the unlikely mixing of water and oil.

Conclusions An underlying theme and contention in this chapter is that when it comes to Turkey’s EU membership, European debates largely act as proxies for either specific interests or broad views about Turkey, Europe, and the world. The fact that these debates rarely focus on the technicalities of Turkey’s EU membership and have broadened to encompass a wide variety of issues means two things as far as American influence on EU-Turkey relations is concerned. First, American attempts to directly influence EU positions on Turkey in a manner conducive to Turkey’s membership aspirations have been and could be only marginally successful. To the extent that American arguments on Turkey have spoken only to a subset of European stakeholders—notably within state institutions and sectors of civil society with an interest in foreign policy—this source of direct influence could only be limited. Whether its effects have been positive or negative, and precisely when and why this may have occurred, is the subject of chapter 4. This does not mean though that the US has had no influence—positive or negative—on those European stakeholders who view Turkey through the internal lens of the EU or their specific member state. At face value, US arguments are less likely to resonate amongst European trade unions focusing on the deregulation of the Turkish labor market, with southern European agriculture lobbies concerned about competition from Turkey’s agriculture sector, with right-wing parties focusing on identity, borders, and immigration, or with European federalists concerned about EU institutions, Turkey’s sovereignist culture, and the European political project. Given that the US does not hold strong views about internal EU and member state affairs, it is less likely to directly influence the views of European stakeholders prioritizing these issues. However, another implication of the all-encompassing nature of European debates on Turkey is that American influence on these debates is often indirect and unintended. Insofar as the EU-Turkey question in Europe deals with a very broad range of issues—some of which are only tangentially related to Turkey’s accession process—the US may influence EU-Turkey relations in a variety of indirect and unintended ways. These sources of indirect American influence will be explored in chapters 5 and 6. 76

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4 Transatlantic Debates The Role of Direct American Advocacy

Chapter 2 explored the American debates on Turkey and explained how, as Turkish-American relations reconfigured after the Cold War, Washington began pressing for Turkey’s deeper integration into the European Union. Chapter 3 turned to European debates on Turkey, highlighting how these reach beyond the technicalities of Turkey’s European integration and mirror opinions about Turkey, Europe, and the world. Some of these debates overlap with strategic American interests and visions; many others emerged and evolved independently. With this context in mind, this chapter begins exploring the dynamics between the US, Turkey, and the EU by assessing when and why American advocacy vis-à-vis its European counterparts has influenced the latter’s positions and policies towards Turkey. To do so, this chapter first traces the instances of US advocacy in Europe from the late 1980s, when Turkey began pursuing its membership of the European Community (EC), to the present. It then explores the European reactions to these overtures, including the reaction of diplomats, politicians, civil society representatives, and the media. These reactions have wavered, yet on a whole the trend is one of diminishing European reception to American arguments regarding Turkey. The EU-Turkey relationship has, inevitably, always had a life of its own. However, between the late 1980s and the late 1990s, American advocacy had a discernible positive impact on Europe and contributed significantly to jump-starting Turkey’s EU accession process. In the twenty-first century, no longer this appears to be the case. In order to understand the effects of direct American influence on the EU, the relevant forms of power are ideational and discursive. There have not been meaningful attempts by the US to exert material power on the EU as far as Turkey is concerned. In what follows, this chapter explores the effects of American ideational and discursive power on the EU and the impact they have had on the evolution of EU-Turkey relations. |

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Mapping American Advocacy on EU-Turkey Relations The idea of promoting Turkey’s European integration was first mentioned in the late 1980s and early 1990s in the narrow context of the 1990–91 Gulf War. Turkey’s participation in the war had been single-handedly decided by Turkish President Turgut Özal, despite overwhelming opposition from the public. In view of this, the US sought means to ‘compensate’ Turkey. By doing so, the US also hoped to facilitate America’s ability to operate in Iraq through Turkey’s cooperation. In 1987, Turkey had applied for EC membership, making its first tentative steps towards democratization following the 1980 military coup. Yet in 1989, the European Commission had rejected Turkey’s application on the grounds of Turkey’s domestic deficiencies. Hence, supporting Turkey’s European integration aspiration became an obvious way for the United States to satisfy its Turkish ally.1 As the 1990s progressed, however, supporting Turkey’s European integration became an American refrain and a more rounded US objective. The end of the Cold War and the 1990–91 Gulf War had raised concerns in Washington regarding the future of its relationship with Turkey. The Cold War no longer provided the driving rationale for the alliance, yet the Gulf War highlighted how much Washington still needed Turkey. Ankara’s cooperation had not only been critical for the speedy expulsion of Saddam Hussein’s Iraq from Kuwait. It remained so in the aftermath of the war, including in the implementation of the no-fly zones and the sanctions regime. In this context, senior US officials in the early years of the Clinton administration appreciated that, with the end of the ‘Bush-Özal love affair’, Turkish-American ties were in dire need of an impetus and a diversification from the exclusive military realm, which had dominated the relationship throughout the Cold War.2 As stated by a former senior State Department official: ‘we needed a new story between the US and Turkey. The alliance was no longer natural and inevitable’.3 In order to find such a story, the US drew and capitalized on specific aspects of Turkey’s own redefined foreign and domestic policies in the late 1980s and early 1990s—policies designed by Turkish Prime Minister and President Özal precisely to reconfirm Turkey’s credentials as a member of the Western community. Much to Ankara’s satisfaction, the strategy through which the US redefined, strengthened, and diversified its alliance with Turkey included, as a cardinal pillar, the promotion of Turkey’s European integration.4 Turkey, like Germany during the Cold War, was re-conceptualized as a country at the center of American interests. Yet, in order to play a constructive role as a 78

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bridge and hub, Turkey had to be anchored to the West. The EU was the best guarantee of such an anchor. Promoting Turkey’s European integration thus provided a critical raison d’être to US-Turkey relations in the midst of the global flux and uncertainty of the early post–Cold War years. At the outset, therefore, the US objective of fostering Turkey’s European integration was primarily focused on Turkey and US-Turkey relations. It had little to do with American ideas about the future of Europe. It was not primarily related to the US’s stated goal of making Europe stronger (and more ‘Atlanticist’). Neither did it vindicate the European suspicion that Washington was intent on diluting the European project by inserting a Turkish ‘Trojan horse’ into its fold. Making the neglect of ‘Europe’ in America’s EU-Turkey policy all the more conspicuous was the fact that in the US at the time, the future of the European project was not taken for granted. As the Cold War came to a close, several realist voices in the US had actually predicted a dissolution of the European integration experiment, now devoid of its external Soviet glue (Mearsheimer 1990). Not everyone agreed. In the think-tank community, the dominant understanding among Democrats was that Western Europe would reap its peace dividend from the end of the Cold War, and should use it to shoulder greater responsibilities in the wider Europe. Among Republicans, on the other hand, the idea of renewed destabilization in Europe was more widespread, yet the belief was that Europe would be able to stand on its own two feet and would no longer need constant US protection. In other words, in the US, Europe’s future was considered to be highly uncertain in the early years of the post–Cold War period. Notwithstanding, Americans converged on the desirability of Turkey’s EU integration, not for reasons related to Europe but rather to the imperative of seeking closer USTurkey relations in the context of American policy in the Middle East. The US began pursuing its goal not only by advocating Turkey’s European integration, but also by pressing Turkey to adopt the necessary domestic reforms. The American administration argued, inter alia, that domestic reforms would be the only means to reverse the Commission’s negative opinion of Turkey. Indeed, at the time, the nature of European integration was rapidly changing. The Community was gradually developing an explicitly political dimension through the 1986 Single European Act’s specification of human rights standards for member states, which culminated in the 1993 Copenhagen political criteria for membership. By the early 1990s, the idea dawned upon Turkish and US officials that an obvious next step to pursue Turkey’s European integration was to press for Turkey’s inclusion in the EU customs union. This was an eventuality The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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which was already foreseen within the framework of Turkey’s 1963 Association Agreement with the EC.5 In order to secure an agreement, US officials proceeded on two parallel tracks. On the one hand and alongside their Turkish counterparts, they lobbied for Turkey’s inclusion in the customs union in Brussels and several reluctant European capitals, by highlighting that in the aftermath of the 1989 rejection of Ankara’s application, the EU was compelled to move forward in its relationship with Turkey. On the other hand, American officials pressed Turkey to embark on democratic and human rights reforms. These were viewed as essential especially by the European Parliament (EP), which would have had to ratify the agreement. In the mid-1990s, US Assistant Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke and Ambassador Mark Grossman pressed Turkey to combat torture, release imprisoned journalists, and broaden the freedom of expression, in close coordination with the Commission delegation and the British embassy in Ankara. Turkey, by and large, snubbed the request to embark on comprehensive political reform, but did slightly amend some articles in its Constitution and Anti-Terror Law in 1995 (Kirişci and Winrow 1997, 179). The customs union agreement was signed in 1995 but the European Parliament delayed its ratification in view of the arrest of several Kurdish deputies the previous year (Krauss 2000). American diplomacy scrambled to unblock the deadlock, engaging in intense activity in Brussels, European capitals, and sending a delegation headed by Undersecretary of State for Economic Affairs Stuart Eisenstadt to Strasbourg on the eve of the EP’s vote to ratify the agreement.6 The strategy was ultimately successful, as evidenced by the entry into force of the agreement in 1996. Turkey’s entry in the customs union marked the beginning of higher levels of economic integration between Turkey and the EU, and, in Ankara and Washington’s eyes, the prelude to Turkey’s full EU membership. This success encouraged the Clinton administration to proceed, pressing for Turkey’s inclusion in the accession process through the recognition of its candidacy for full membership. The concept underpinning the strategy remained the same. If Turkey could be made to reform through the EU incentive, then EU-Turkey relations would unfold through a virtuous dynamic culminating in Turkey’s democratization, European integration, and a strengthened and more comprehensive strategic relationship with the US. At the heart of the strategy was the idea that the EU would not lower its standards for membership because of Turkey’s geostrategic significance. Turkey should not be admitted to the EU through a lowering of the benchmarks. Rather, fulfilling Turkey’s potential as a bridge hinged on the country’s reforms in line with EU criteria. 80

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The strategy suffered a setback when in December 1997 the Luxembourg European Council held back from recognizing Turkey’s candidacy, while opening accession negotiations with the first wave of candidate countries (including Cyprus) in the fifth enlargement process. Following the 1997 debacle and Turkey’s ensuing freeze of its political dialogue with the Union, the US consistently pressed to review the EU’s position. As argued by a former State Department official at the time, between December 1997 and December 1999, American diplomats would not miss an opportunity to lecture European counterparts on the imperative of reversing the Luxembourg decision (Barkey 2003, 215). Above all, Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbot, Assistant Secretary of State Mark Grossman, Ambassador to Turkey Mark Parris, and Ambassador to Greece Nicholas Burns were heavily engaged in constant advocacy in favor of Turkey’s EU candidacy between 1997 and 1999. President Clinton pressed several European leaders in the run-up to the December 1999 Helsinki European Council, adding weight to Turkey’s EU cause. Concomitantly, the US continued to press for Turkish domestic reform. President Clinton and his staff in particular relied on the public pressure that had been generated in the run-up to the 1999 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) summit to be held in Istanbul in November (i.e., one month before the December 1999 Helsinki European Council) to back the constitutional amendments which removed military judges from State Security Courts and insist on allowing a civil society conference on the fringes of the OSCE meeting (Kirişci 2001a, 142–43). The tide in Europe gradually turned also as a result of an alignment of the political stars in several European capitals, increasing the receptiveness of American advocacy on Turkey. In the run-up to the decision to grant Turkey candidacy in December 1999, the confluence of domestic developments in the UK, Germany, and Greece was pivotal. London had been a consistent supporter of Turkey’s EU bid for reasons largely shared across the Atlantic. Tony Blair’s Labour government thus lobbied heavily in favor of a reversal of the Luxembourg decision during the UK’s EU presidency in 1998. In Germany instead, Social Democrat Gerhard Schroeder’s election in 1998 reversed Chancellor Kohl’s adamant rejection of Turkey’s EU membership. Finally and equally decisively was the turnaround in the position of Greece. The Greek socialist party PASOK began supporting Turkey’s EU accession as a result partly of the Greek-Turkish rapprochement triggered by the ‘earthquake diplomacy’ in the summer of 1999 and partly because of Greece’s imperative of cutting its defense budget in order to facilitate its own entry into the eurozone. The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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In turn, in December 1999, the European Council in Helsinki recognized Turkey’s candidacy. The decision was largely due to domestic developments in Europe and the European imperative to mend fences in Turkey. Yet US advocacy did contribute to the momentum which culminated in the 1999 agreement (Sayarı 2011). Not only was American diplomacy between 1997 and 1999 among the factors that triggered the reversal of the Luxembourg decision. American crisis management in the midst of the Helsinki European Council also contributed to securing Turkey’s acceptance of the EU’s offer. In view of the European Council’s concomitant decision to allow Cyprus’s membership even without a settlement on the island, Turkish Prime Minister Bülent Ecevit had been strongly tempted to turn down the deal. Through carefully coordinated transatlantic diplomacy, EU High Representative Javier Solana travelled to Ankara to ease Turkish concerns, and President Clinton called the Turkish premier to encourage his acceptance of the deal. At the press conference following Ankara’s acceptance, Ecevit unreservedly stated that Clinton had persuaded him of the benefits of the agreement.7 In the immediate aftermath of the European Council meeting, the American president welcomed the EU decision ‘with pleasure’, noting that the US had ‘long supported Turkey’s bid to join the EU in belief that this would have lasting benefits not only for Turkey, but also for EU members and the United States’ (quoted in Sayarı 2006, 169). The 1996 customs union agreement and the 1999 EU candidacy decision were the crowning achievements of American advocacy on Turkey’s European integration. This is not to say that US officials stopped engaging in the question. Thereafter, the ensuing US administrations adamantly pressed for the opening of Turkey’s accession negotiations in 2002–2005 and for the continuation and acceleration of the negotiation process since then. In the aftermath of the attacks on September 11, 2001, and in the run-up to the war in Iraq in 2003, the first George W. Bush administration began forcefully lobbying for the opening of Turkey’s EU accession negotiations. Leading up to the December 2002 European Council in Copenhagen, President G. W. Bush, following a meeting with the leader of the AKP Tayyip Erdoğan, publicly reiterated his support for Turkey’s EU bid (Sayarı 2006, 169). Bush also made successive calls to French President Jacques Chirac and Danish Prime Minister and EU President Anders Fogh Rasmussen in order to encourage the EU to grant Turkey a date to begin accession negotiations. The Copenhagen European Council refrained from specifying a date for Turkey, limiting itself to postponing a decision on the issue in December 2004. Moreover, the general feeling in the EU was that American pressure had backfired.8 As 82

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put by Commissioner for Enlargement Günter Verheugen: ‘the veiled pressure and threats that came from within Turkey but also from the outside . . . caused a kind of overkill . . . it was just a fraction too much, a fraction that triggered a negative reaction in Europe’.9 Similarly, EP President Pat Cox declared: ‘sometimes our friends in Washington are heavier handed than the situation may require, and this might have been one of those situations’.10 In 2004, Washington upped the ante again regarding Turkey’s accession negotiations. Following a meeting with Prime Minister Erdoğan on June 29, Bush declared: ‘As Turkey meets the EU standards for membership, the EU should begin talks that will lead to full membership for the Republic of Turkey’.11 The European Council in December 2004 agreed to begin negotiations with Turkey in October 2005. Yet this was due largely to the momentous steps forward made in Turkish reform since mid-2001, through a series of constitutional reforms and accompanying legal harmonization packages to align Turkey with the EU’s Copenhagen political criteria. By contrast, the European reaction to American cajoling was overwhelmingly negative. In response to Bush’s public appeal in June 2004, French President Chirac angrily rebuked: ‘If President Bush really said that in the way that I read, then not only did he go too far, but he went into territory that isn’t his’.12 Finally, in October 2005, on the eve of the opening of Turkey’s accession negotiations, the US intervened again (Kayhan and Lindley 2006, 217). This time US diplomacy was successful, yet it was not aimed directly at Turkey’s accession talks. Despite Austria’s eleventh hour reticence to launch negotiations with Turkey, by then the decision had been taken by the EU. The last minute crisis revolved around a provision in Turkey’s Accession Negotiations Framework regarding Ankara’s alignment with the EU (including member state Cyprus) on the stance towards international organizations (i.e., NATO)—a conflict that remains pending to this day (Medina Abellan 2009).13 Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice intervened through successive telephone calls to EU, British, Turkish, and Cypriot leaders and contributed to unblocking (while not resolving) the deadlock.14 Since the opening of accession negotiations, the US has continued to follow Turkey’s accession process with concern in view of its snail’s pace and successive roadblocks. It has attempted to egg the process along both through public speeches and through quiet diplomacy. During transatlantic meetings on international affairs, Turkey would feature among the first subjects raised by American speakers, whether to highlight Turkey’s strategic significance or to pinpoint the imperative of proceeding with the accession process in good faith.15 Yet, unlike the 1990s, European interlocutors generally have The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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not accepted American arguments. Their reactions have been either polite silences, long-winded explanations of the complications inherent in the accession process, or impassioned demands of non-interference in a quintessentially European affair. At a French-American conference held shortly after President Barack Obama’s April 2009 speech in Ankara, in which he advocated Turkey’s EU membership, a French official brashly called upon his American counterparts to ‘please tell your President to shut up!’16

Exploring European Reactions to American Advocacy on Turkey As argued by Makovsky (1998, 60–61), ‘probably in no other internal EU issue has the U.S. been so actively involved and asserted a “right” of Turkish membership’. While America’s involvement in EU-Turkey relations has been fairly constant over the last two decades, its effects on Europe have not. US advocacy throughout the 1990s contributed to kick-starting Turkey’s accession process. Europeans may not have always appreciated American meddling in EU-Turkey affairs (Larrabee 2007a; Abramowitz 2000), yet many recognized the influence of the US on the issue.17 By contrast, the influence and effectiveness of American direct engagement decreased visibly in the twenty-first century, often generating transatlantic friction. Why? The US has influenced European approaches to Turkey directly through the use of ideational and discursive power. It is by exploring the impact of these two forms of power that we can understand the rise and fall of American influence on Europe. Figure 4.1 illustrates the structure of the argument developed over the rest of this chapter.

The Impact of American Ideational Power on the EU As discussed in chapter 1, ideational power—i.e., a state’s ability to promote particular policies through argumentation and persuasion—rests on legitimacy. Ideational power hinges on the ‘legitimacy’ of the actor—the US—and the ‘consent’ of those upon whom power is exerted—the EU—both of which enable the cooption, persuasion, and socialization by the former of the latter.

The Style of American Advocacy A first determinant of the legitimacy of American advocacy regarding EU-Turkey relations is the means, method, and style through which American actors advocate Turkey’s European integration. US legitimacy and EU 84

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Figure 4.1. Mapping the Impact of Direct American Power

consent are higher—increasing US ideational power—when American advocacy is pursued discreetly rather than through public diplomacy. Throughout the 1990s, US diplomats privately engaged with European counterparts, be it through close coordination between the embassies in Ankara regarding Turkish reforms as during the early and mid-1990s, through constant debate with European diplomats in Washington and Europe, or through high-level diplomacy at key EU decision-making moments regarding Turkey such as in 1996 and 1999. By contrast, in the run-up to the European Council meetings in December 2002 and December 2004, American officials repeatedly made forceful public appeals in favor of Turkey’s accession negotiations. In December 2002, Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz (2002) stated: ‘It would be to the benefit, not only of Turkey and Europe, but the entire world if the December 12th EU summit in Copenhagen can succeed in advancing two important goals: a settlement in Cyprus and an agreement on a date to begin negotiations on Turkish membership in the EU. The decision on EU membership is Europe’s to make, of course. But history suggests that a European Union that welcomes Turkey will be even stronger, safer, even more richly diverse than it is today.  The alternative, exclusionary choice, is surely unthinkable’ (emphasis added). Two days later, State Department Director of Policy Planning Richard Haas declared, even more bluntly: ‘Europe needs to integrate Turkey and needs to give them an accession date.  .  .  . It would not simply be an error, but to paraphrase Bismark, a blunder, if this opportunity were lost’ (emphasis added).18 Again, in 2004, Bush, going beyond a general plea for Turkey’s membership, adjudicated on behalf of the Union that ‘as Turkey meets the EU standards for memThe Role of Direct American Advocacy

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bership, the EU should begin talks that will lead to full membership’.19 It is because of the brashness of these US calls that Commissioner Verheugen referred to an ‘overkill’ in 2002 and French President Chirac claimed that the American president had ‘gone too far’ in a ‘territory that isn’t his’ in 2004. In view of these precedents, when asked how the US ought to promote Turkey’s accession process, one senior European Commission replied: ‘through quiet diplomacy’.20 When asked a similar question, former Finnish President Martti Ahtisaari, heading the European Council at the time of the 1999 decision to grant Turkey candidacy, replied: ‘don’t publicly interfere, but quietly support the process’.21 This is not to say that all American public pronouncements on Turkey and the EU backfire. European reactions tend to be more favorable when Americans, rather than over-criticizing the Union for its reticence towards Turkey, underemphasize the negative consequences of such reticence. A speech by Deputy Secretary of State Talbott (1998) highlights this approach. Talbott in 1998 unreservedly argued in favor of Turkey’s inclusion in the enlargement process: ‘as a very interested non-member and non-applicant, the U.S. has urged the EU to find ways to bring Turkey more fully into the process of enlargement’. Yet at a time when Ankara was receiving the cold shoulder from Brussels, Talbott also played down the negative implications of this: ‘We in Washington continue to hope that Turkish politicians and commentators will not make this issue the be-all-and-end-all of Turkey’s success and self-esteem. Turkey’s ties to Europe are irreversible and unbreakable; they are a fact of life, not a privilege that comes with membership in this or that institution’. By downplaying the downside of a European rejection of Turkey, American diplomacy de-dramatized the overall climate in which Turkey-EU relations unfold. By doing so, this speech rallied little favor in Turkey.22 However, and perhaps partly because of this, it won over considerable EU sympathy, being interpreted not as a ‘cheap’ tool to ingratiate Turkey, but rather as the expression of genuine concern for Turkey’s European future. Turkey-skeptics in Europe were not necessarily persuaded by Talbott’s plea in favor of Turkey’s European integration, but their reactions were open. In response to a similar line of reasoning articulated by the Deputy Secretary of State at a Transatlantic conference in March 1998, then floor leader for the German Christian Democrat Union Wolfgang Schäuble, a prominent opponent of Turkey’s EU membership, was not negative, but simply non-committal: ‘whether the only way to achieve that

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[anchoring Turkey to the West] is to make Turkey a full member of the EU, that still needs to be discussed’.23 By contrast, Europeans react negatively when Americans over-criticize the Union for its sluggishness towards Turkey. At a 2009 conference in Istanbul, for example, US Congressman Robert Wexler, addressing a predominantly Turkish audience, lashed out his j’accuse: ‘how many speeches does the Turkish public have to endure from the French and the Germans that no matter what Turkey will do it will never become a member of the EU. It is not so bewildering an outcome if the Turkish public takes a different course’.24 The same line was articulated by US Defense Secretary Robert Gates in June 2010: ‘I personally think that if there is anything to the notion that Turkey is, if you will, moving eastward, it is, in my view, in no small part because it was pushed, and pushed by some in Europe refusing to give Turkey the kind of organic link to the West that Turkey sought’.25 Comments of this sort open the way for an unedifying transatlantic tit-for-tat. In response to Gates, European Commission President José Manuel Barroso rebuked: ‘I was surprised by those remarks. . . . The distance Turkey started to show [from the West] started with the invasion of Iraq and the pressure put on Turkey by the previous U.S. administration’.26 Inherent in these remarks is both an agreement that Turkey is indeed drifting away from the West and a disagreement as to the transatlantic causes of such drift. Aware that Turkey’s EU integration had been a goal espoused by the US in the context of the Gulf War, many Europeans view curt public diplomacy of this kind as an instrumental means of bolstering US-Turkey ties and pursuing American goals in the Middle East.27 They also claim that if Turkey were to turn its back to the West because of the EU’s snubbing, then it is hard to argue that it was fully European in the first place.28 Hence, as argued by Sylvie Goulard (2004b, 86): ‘For America the benefits and clean conscience at little cost; to Europeans, to Europeans alone, the consequences’.29 In other words, Turkey’s EU membership would indirectly bolster US policy in the Middle East, insofar as Washington could be able to count on the support of its ally in Ankara. However, the EU would have to live with the consequences of allowing a not fully European member into its fold. More broadly, many Europeans have argued that US advocacy of this kind does not represent a genuine effort to promote Turkey’s EU integration. As stated by a German Christian Democratic Member of the European Parliament during a meeting in the US Congress in November 2009, American public insistence on Turkey’s EU membership only serves to poi-

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son Ankara’s troubled relations with Europe.30 Interesting in this respect is the fact that French President Nicolas Sarkozy had been uncharacteristically silent regarding his (unabated) opposition to Turkey’s EU membership in 2008–9. Immediately after US President Obama’s public appeal in favor of Turkey’s accession in April 2009, Sarkozy felt the need to respond.31 Hence, he declared: ‘I have always been opposed to this entry. I still am and think I can say that the immense majority of member states shares the position of France. Turkey is a very great country, an ally of Europe, an ally of the US. It will stay a privileged partner’.32 By 2005–6, American foreign policy circles had generally appreciated the message that forceful public advocacy often backfired and deepened transatlantic divisions.33 Under the Obama administration, on each and every occasion that US officials have publicly asserted the goal of Turkey’s EU membership, paving the way for the call was the recognition that the US ought to engage in ‘respectful dialogue’ with the EU, be ‘humble’ in the pursuit of its point of view, and acknowledge that this is a ‘difficult European decision’ to take.34 Reverting back to the strategy of the late 1990s of downplaying the drama in EU-Turkey relations, American stakeholders have also emphasized that Turkey is not set to enter the EU ‘today or tomorrow’ and that the process is more important than the destination.35 As explained by Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gordon (2009): ‘regardless of where you come out in terms of actual membership, we should agree that Turkey is a strategic challenge and binding it to the West is an important goal for Europeans and Americans alike’. This said, the Obama administration has also been less active than its predecessors in lobbying for Turkey’s EU membership behind closed doors, as noted by one Commission official.36 Partly as a result of their loss of faith in Turkey’s excruciatingly slow accession talks and largely as a result of bureaucratic politics and the rotation of American diplomats following the issue, US officials have tended to follow less diligently Turkey’s accession negotiations in recent years. The style of US diplomacy helps explain the acute European annoyance at US interventions in EU-Turkey affairs at specific points in time. It also contributes to our understanding of when and why US advocacy in Europe has backfired. However, it does not account for the gradual reduction of direct American influence on EU-Turkey relations over time. Whereas public and forceful US diplomacy has often elicited defensive European responses, the reverse cannot be said of confidential and cautious American approaches, as evidenced by the European reactions to the Obama administration’s carefully worded appeals. 88

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The Legitimacy of the United States in Europe and the State of Transatlantic Relations A second variable underpinning the legitimacy of American advocacy on EU-Turkey relations is the legitimacy of the US itself in Europe and the broader state of transatlantic relations. The state of transatlantic ties has affected the legitimacy of the US in Europe, impinging on America’s ideational power to persuade Europeans to proceed with closer ties to Turkey. When American legitimacy has been high in Europe, Europeans have been more prone to heeding American arguments. But at times of transatlantic rift, Europeans have shunned American cajoling, hence the overall greater receptiveness of EU member states to the Clinton administration’s calls to deepen EU-Turkey relations at a time of transatlantic high. In the second half of the 1990s, transatlantic relations were characterized by cooperation over the transition of Eastern Europe, joint participation in the 1999 Kosovo War, and EU support for the US-sponsored Middle East peace process. In this context, we can situate the relative success of the Clinton administration in promoting the EU-Turkey customs union agreement in 1995–6 and Turkey’s entry in the accession process in 1999. By contrast, at times of transatlantic low such as the early 2000s, US advocacy did not strike positive chords in Europe, inciting blunt negative reactions by European leaders. As recognized by Abramowitz et al. (2004, 19): ‘the decline in U.S. popularity and credibility among the European public makes the U.S. government a less effective advocate in Europe on any issue’; and, in turn, the lower the legitimacy of the US in Europe and the greater the European propensity to conspire about American hidden motives for Turkey’s EU accession. Most typically, Europeans have been prone to suspecting their American partners of devious intentions to strengthen their own relations with Turkey while concomitantly diluting the European political project. Particularly during the first administration of George W. Bush, Washington’s efforts to promote Turkey’s EU membership seemed to many Europeans to be a cynical ploy to ingratiate Ankara despite an awareness that Turkey fell outside the contours of the European community of identity and values (Öniş and Yılmaz 2005). Many Europeans viewed the outspoken efforts of the Bush administration to induce EU members to open accession negotiations with Turkey in the fall of 2002 as part of the US strategy to enlist Turkey as a useful Middle Eastern ally on issues such as the ‘Global War on Terror’ and the military offensives on Iraq and Afghanistan.37 Most critically, American advocacy was seen through the lens of the looming war in Iraq and Bush’s ambitions in 2002 to pursue a second front attack through Turkey at the time (Robins 2003b). The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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True, Washington’s goal of promoting EU-Turkey relations had originally been conceived through the narrow prism of the first Gulf War. What is also true is that, a decade later, the administration of George W. Bush pressed for Turkey’s EU accession negotiations in the context of the war in Iraq. Yet arguing that Washington backed Turkey’s EU ambitions only for instrumental reasons linked to the Middle East entirely neglected the fact that Washington’s promotion of Turkey’s membership had been a consistent strategy since the late 1980s (Taşpınar 2006). The growing transatlantic rift in the wake of the war in Iraq largely explains this selective European amnesia. The prospect of the war generated one of the deepest transatlantic cleavages since the end of World War II, which led European trust in the US to sink. With American legitimacy in Europe at an all-time low, the common lifeworld and overlapping realities across the Atlantic were momentarily erased. American pronouncements and policies, from Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s ‘old’ versus ‘new’ Europe remarks,38 to the concerted US efforts to pursue Turkey’s EU membership, were interpreted as a divide et impera strategy, aimed at weakening the EU in order to pursue, unbridled, American revisionism in the Greater Middle East. Hence, former French Foreign Minister Hubert Vedrine’s description of the United States as a ‘hyper power’ willing to trample Europe interests;39 or EU High Representative Javier Solana’s warning against the dangers of American ‘global unilateralism’.40 This is not to say that American legitimacy is uniform across Europe. The degree of Atlanticism within the member states varies, affecting the relative reputation of Americans calling for Turkey’s European integration. Hence, whereas French, Austrian, or Greek reactions to American arguments are often negative in view of the broader skepticism towards American foreign policy in these countries, the same cannot be said of the British, Italians, Czechs, Dutch, or Poles (Ojanen 2008). Vindicating this argument is the fact that President Bush’s support for Turkey’s EU accession generated no backlash in member states like Italy, the Czech Republic, Poland, or the UK. By contrast, President Obama’s call for Turkey’s EU accession was interpreted by several French observers as an unwelcome attempt by the American president to overplay his widespread appeal in Europe.41 Atlanticism, however, is not a fixed phenomenon within member states and can change over time. The case of Germany is particularly insightful in this respect. Since the end of the Cold War there has been a growing disillusionment of German Atlanticists of the likes of former President Richard von Weizsaecker with what they view as the American unilateralist turn in the new century. In particular, there appears to have been a distinct distancing 90

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of German Christian Democrats from American foreign policy. US advocacy on Turkey has been both a cause and a victim of this trend, being interpreted as yet another instance in which Washington has pushed Europe into rash and ill thought out decisions, the consequences of which the EU would have to deal with in years to come.42 Yet legitimacy does not explain why the influence of American advocacy has not increased since the 2008 election of Barack Obama, despite the popularity of the messenger.43 Across the EU, there has been a staggering ‘bounce’ in public approval ratings of the American presidency following the election of Barack Obama (Transatlantic Trends 2009). The 2008 approval for Bush hovered around the 10–20 percent mark across most member states, with outlier countries being the staunchly Atlanticist Romania and Poland (44 percent each). In sharp contrast, in 2009 President Obama enjoyed record high ratings of around 80–90 percent in most member states, never falling below the 55 percent mark (Poland). Beyond the personality of the American president, a growing perception within Europe of America’s declining global influence triggered, inter alia, by the 2008–2009 financial crisis, also may have increased European sympathies for the US (Meunier 2010). Why has this tremendous increase in the approval and legitimacy of the US in Europe and the ensuing improvement of transatlantic relations not translated into greater American effectiveness in inducing an acceleration of Turkey’s sluggish accession negotiations? Part of the reason may lie in the dampened European expectations of the Obama presidency after a few months in office, coupled with the relative disinterest in Europe of Obama: the first ‘Pacific’ American president (Stelzenmüller 2010). Part of the reason may also lie in the fact that ‘Obamamania’ can and does coexist with a deeper trend of anti-Americanism in Europe (Hatlapa, Markovits, and Arbor 2010). Yet equally important is the fact that the content of the arguments espoused by American stakeholders regarding Turkey’s European future has changed over the years, and so has their reception in the EU.

The Impact of American Discursive Power on the EU To the extent that Americans contribute to shaping the discursive frames and contents through which Europeans conceptualize their relationship with Turkey, the US has impinged on the evolution of EU-Turkey relations. As anticipated in chapter 1, American advocacy by state and non-state actors has been pursued within three broad discursive frames: a geostrategic, a liberal, and a civilizational conception of Europe (and Turkey). These three discurThe Role of Direct American Advocacy

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sive representations have co-existed and interacted with one another, yet their relative weight in the US has changed over time. So has their impact on the EU.

The Geostrategic Discourse The US was pivotal in diffusing a geostrategic understanding of European integration in general and of Turkey’s accession in particular. Throughout the Cold War, this discursive frame was mainstream in European circles too, and proved instrumental in triggering Turkey’s European integration through the 1963 Association Agreement, the 1995 customs union agreement, and the 1999 launch of Turkey’s accession process. Since then, however, the geostrategic discourse has lost sway in Europe, backfiring with some segments while failing to strike chords with many others. Turning to the origins of this discourse, interestingly, in the 1940s the US had not been persuaded about Turkey’s strategic assets and the geostrategic logic of incorporating Turkey into the ‘West’ (Athanassopoulou 1999; Barkey 1992). Views in the US changed with the 1947 Truman Doctrine and the Marshall Plan, which highlighted the importance of protecting Turkey against the Soviet threat. As stated by President Harry Truman in 1947: ‘at the present moment in world history nearly every nation must choose between alternative ways of life. . . . I believe that it must be the policy of the US to support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation by armed minorities and outside pressures . . . should we fail to aid Greece and Turkey in this fateful hour, the effect will be far reaching to the West as well as to the East’ (Truman 1947). By 1947–49, the US had thus come round to the view that Turkey needed protection as a peer member of the ‘free world’. Yet it was only after the inclusion of non-Atlantic geographies such as Italy and French Algeria in NATO in 1949 and, above all, Turkey’s participation in the 1950 Korean War, that Washington endorsed the idea of Turkey’s membership in NATO. But resistance in Europe, and in particular in the UK, Denmark, Holland, and Norway, continued to run high, on the grounds that NATO was a political community in which Turkey had no place (Kubieck 2009). The British government in particular foresaw Turkey’s membership in a security arrangement for the Middle East and the Eastern Mediterranean, instead of NATO (Athanassopoulou 1999). American actors persuaded skeptical Europeans through the confluence of geostrategic and identity arguments. On the one hand, as advocated by US Ambassador in Ankara at the time George McGhee, Turkey is deeply committed to the Western camp, as evidenced by its 1950 decision to legalize a multiparty political system.44 Turkey had transformed from an authoritarian state to ‘a democracy comparable in essential 92

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elements to Western democracies’ (McGhee 1954, 630), and it had done so partly in response to the expectations of the US in its bid to enter NATO and be a part of ‘Western civilization’ (Yılmaz 1997, 8). On the other hand and as elaborated in chapter 2, Americans argued that Turkey represented a geostrategic asset in the containment of the Soviet Union: a barrier against Soviet expansionism. Particularly the latter argument ultimately won the day (Kuniholm 1980, 363; Smith 2000, 95). As put by Kubieck (2009, 31): ‘Take away the Soviet aggression in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Middle East, and, at minimum, the urgency to incorporate Turkey into the Atlantic Alliance is removed’. In other words, Turkey’s NATO membership had less to do with the community concept of the North Atlantic Treaty and more to do with a military-strategic calculus, which, persuaded by Washington, the European Allies ultimately endorsed. This geostrategic logic rubbed off on Turkey’s European integration as well, and was pivotal in securing Turkey’s Association Agreement in 1963. Upon signing the agreement, European Commission President Walter Hallstein declared that the ‘deepest meaning’ of the agreement was an affirmation that ‘Turkey belongs to Europe’. In articulating this position, Hallstein premised that Europe is not ‘the abbreviated expression of a geographical evaluation or a historical determination’. To be European meant to opt politically and economically for a particular mode of life. Hence, when referring to the Westernization and modernization reforms of Turkey’s founding father, Hallstein highlighted how Atatürk had ‘recast every aspect of life in Turkey along European lines’. Moreover, Turkey belonged to the community of ‘free states’ and played a key role in the defense of ‘Western civilization’ in its struggle against the Soviet Union (Assemblée Parlementaire Européenne 1962, 90). The salience of this geostrategic understanding of Turkey’s ties to Europe was underscored even more starkly by Eugene Schaus, the Luxembourgian president of the Council of Ministers in June 1963: ‘Turkey has been one of the first European countries to express its trust in the Community and its role in the organization of the free world underlines the importance of its participation in our common endeavor’ (Assemblée Parlementaire Européenne 1962: 42, translation by the author, emphases added). The geostrategic discourse on Turkey as a loyal member of the West left its trail in the early years of the post–Cold War. It was mentioned repeatedly by Americans advocating Turkey’s membership in the EU customs union in 1995–96 and in the accession process in 1997–99. The argument that Europe ‘owed’ Turkey deeper integration because of its role as a staunch ally during the Cold War initially influenced European counterparts, and played a The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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role in securing the customs union agreement and the decision to begin the accession process.45 As the 1990s came to a close, ushering the way to the new century, the American geostrategic logic continued to hold sway among a minority in Europe, including governments and mainstream political parties within strongly Atlanticist member states, foreign policy communities across the EU, as well as in elements of the euroskeptic European right. Atlanticist member states have not been as prickly to American cajoling, welcoming the idea that EU member Turkey would strengthen the contingent of Atlanticist member states (Ojanen 2008). For diametrically opposite reasons, Europeanist foreign policy specialists across the EU have welcomed Turkey’s integration as a means of strengthening EU defense capabilities and rendering the Union, inter alia, more independent from the US (Ojanen 2008).46 By contrast, the euroskeptic right has espoused the geostrategic discourse in favor of Turkey’s accession on the grounds that the EU should be a loosely integrated alliance and market and not a political project. However, their arguments have hindered the prospects of Turkey’s path to Europe by deepening the reservations of Europeanists towards valid geostrategic arguments in favor of Turkey’s accession. It is because proTurkey geostrategic arguments have often been invoked by euroskeptics that committed Europeanists such as former French President and President of the Convention on the Future of Europe Giscard d’Estaing dubbed proponents of Turkey’s membership as ‘adversaries’ of the EU.47 Overall, however, the aftereffects of geostrategic Cold War loyalties did not last long. The end of the Cold War emptied much of the discursive logic which had formed the bedrock of Turkey’s ties to Europe. The post–Cold War context meant that geostrategic and identity-based arguments no longer coincided (Kramer 2009). Whereas the Cold War had created a mutually reinforcing overlap between Turkey’s membership in the Western alliance and in the Western community of ‘free states’, the end of the Cold War meant that geostrategic alliances and identity affiliations were no longer synonymous. As discussed in chapter 1, to the extent that the post–Cold War and post-9/11 contexts articulated ‘Islam’ as the new enemy of the West, Turkey, from being an integral element of the Western community, was catapulted into the opposing camp of the ‘other’. In turn, by the late 1990s, American geostrategic arguments in favor of Turkey’s EU membership continued to resonate only among a minority of European stakeholders, while backfiring or failing to strike sympathetic chords with many others (Lesser 2008). American geostrategic arguments on the EU and Turkey lost sway also because of the growing mismatch between European and US conceptions of 94

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European integration. Embedded in the geostrategic discourse is the American idea of the EU as an extension of the Western security architecture. Thus, Turkey’s membership in the EU was and continues to be viewed in Washington as the ‘natural outgrowth of long Turkish participation in the ‘Western club of nations’, primarily through NATO’ (Barkey 2003, 215). When the US began advocating Turkey’s European integration, the EU, as a political union, was still in its infancy. As such, American geostrategic arguments found a relatively receptive audience across the Atlantic. Yet as the Union began acquiring explicit political attributes, Europeans started resenting what they saw as a deliberately reductionist American conceptualization of Europe. With the 1986 Single European Act, the 1993 Maastricht Treaty, and its successive revisions in Amsterdam (1997), Nice (2000), and Lisbon (2009), European stakeholders have become increasingly conscious of the political nature of their Union in-the-making. Enlargement in general and the membership of Turkey in particular could not take place simply because of geostrategic benefits. To cash in these advantages, the Union had to develop adequate foreign policy instruments. It could not enlarge forever. The EU’s constitutional crisis between 2005 and 2009 and the concomitant ‘enlargement fatigue’ in the aftermath of the eastern enlargement have further strengthened the saliency of this argument.48 In turn, as the 2000s progressed, the geostrategic case for Turkey in Europe failed to tip the balance in favor of Turkey’s membership for many Europeans. The exchange between David Phillips from the Washington-based Atlantic Council and Christian Democrat Wolfgang Schäuble, then German Minister of the Interior on Foreign Affairs, is revealing in this respect. In response to Phillips’ (2004) call in favor of Turkey’s membership, Schäuble (2004) replied: ‘David Phillips is right to argue that “Turkey is a crucial ally for the West” . . . but wrong to claim that only full membership in the EU will preserve that relationship. The EU is a community of “values” and not merely a strategic functional union. Turkey is too different to allow the EU to act politically as one’. Because of this growing mismatch in transatlantic debate, those Europeans who champion a tightly knit Europe started snubbing American geostrategic arguments in favor of Turkey’s accession, claiming that Americans simply ‘do not understand Europe’. In what strikes as an implicit response to American readers, Goulard (2004b, 126–27) argues that the Union cannot expand in the same way as an international organization like NATO. Others, engaging in more conspiratorial views about American intentions, suggest that Washington supports EU enlargement in order to reduce the Union to a mere market, given its reluctance to see a politically united Europe that could counterbalThe Role of Direct American Advocacy

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ance the US (de Boisgrollier 2005).49 The point was implicitly made by former French President and President of the Convention on the Future of Europe Valery Giscard d’Estaing in 2002: ‘Turkey is a country close to Europe, an important country, but it is not a European country . . . Those who are pushing hardest for enlargement in the direction of Turkey are adversaries of the EU. Turkish membership would mean the end of the EU’ (emphasis added).50 Overall, in the twenty-first century the US’s geostrategic arguments no longer suffice as a legitimizing logic for Turkey’s accession. Whether pro- or anti-Turkey’s membership, Europeans agree that Turkey is a quintessentially political rather than geostrategic question for the EU. All agree that Turkey offers important strategic assets. Yet strategic arguments cannot win majority support for Turkey’s EU membership. Even for those committed to Turkey’s EU accession, Turkey’s compliance with EU criteria weighs far more than any strategic case underpinning Turkey’s EU future (Ojanen 2008). Those against Turkey’s accession claim that geostrategic considerations are trumped by internal policy questions, be these related to the functioning of EU institutions, to the challenges of immigration and integration, or, more broadly, to the definition of the EU’s identity.51 As discussed in chapter 1, as and when Turkey was shifted from the EU policy framework of association to that of accession in 1999, internal EU questions began weighing far more than foreign policy and geostrategic considerations in the minds of Europeans. As opposed to association, which fits into the broadly construed domain of European foreign policy, enlargement is an internal affair for Europeans. Consequently, following Turkey’s recognition as an EU candidate in 1999, Europeans became less receptive to geostrategic arguments regarding Turkey’s EU future and more prone to viewing Turkey through the lens of domestic interests, ideas, and technicalities of the acquis communautaire. More broadly, having become an internal question, in the 2000s Europeans have been less receptive to American advocacy tout court. Turkey is viewed as an internal European affair on which the US has little say. Furthermore, geostrategic arguments are also used against Turkey’s accession: they are used to legitimize ideas of a ‘privileged partnership’ with Turkey.52 The more Americans argue that EU member Turkey would represent a bridge for Europe’s external projection to turbulent regions, the more some Europeans reply that precisely because of this Turkey ought to be excluded and act as a strategic cordon sanitaire between the EU and the volatile East. The last thing Europeans want, the argument goes, is a bridge to the arc of instability surrounding Turkey. They would rather have Turkey as a friendly buffer between themselves and the turbulent neighborhood: ‘Expanding the Union’s 96

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borders to such neighbors as Iran, Iraq and Syria will drag the EU into areas and disputes it could otherwise more easily stay out of ’ (Hughes 2006). Hence, as recognized by Lesser (2007, 52): ‘With turmoil and conflict on Turkey’s borders, geo-strategic arguments about Turkey’s membership of the kind Washington has pressed for over a decade may actually prove counterproductive’. Others welcome the notion of Turkey as a bridge for the EU’s external projection, but claim that the function of a bridge would be best served outside rather than inside the Union: geostrategy does not entail full membership (Redmond 2007, 308). As explained by German Chancellor Angela Merkel: ‘a bridge . . . should never belong totally to one side. Turkey can fulfill its function as a bridge between Asia and Europe much better if it does not become a member of the EU’ (quoted by Yılmaz 2009, 83). In other words, while appreciating the strategic imperative of fostering closer ties to Turkey, many Europeans would argue that a privileged partnership—and not full membership—would allow the EU to cash in fully Turkey’s strategic assets.

The Liberal Discourse Beyond geostrategy, American stakeholders also put forth identity-based arguments in favor of Turkey’s European integration; identity defined on the basis of liberal norms and values. Particularly in the 1990s, the US portrayed the EU as a community based on universal liberal values and not on geography, ethnicity, or religion. Its current and prospective members thus ought to be judged on the grounds of objective democratic standards and not of undefined cultural criteria. The liberal argument for Turkey in the EU was best articulated by former President Clinton (1999): Our vision of a Europe that is undivided, democratic and at peace for the first time in all of history will never be complete unless and until it embraces Turkey.  .  .  . There are still those who see Europe in narrower terms. Their Europe might stop at this mountain range or that body of water or, worse, where people stopped to worship God in a different way. But there is a growing and encouraging consensus that knows Europe is an idea as much as a place—the idea that people can find strength in diversity of opinions, cultures and faiths, as long as they are commonly committed to democracy and human rights; the idea that people can be united without being uniform, and that if the community we loosely refer to as the West is an idea, it has no fixed frontiers. It stretches as far as the frontiers of freedom can go. The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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Likewise, Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott (1998) argued: ‘Turkey is more likely to make the right choices about its future if we, who lead what has been traditionally, but simplistically, called the West, make clear that we believe that Turkey’s future lies with us—not because of where we are on the map—but because of where we are and where we hope to be in the 21st century’. An implication of this liberal argument is that the EU, as a key member of the West alongside the US, has the duty to assist those countries, on the periphery of Europe, which yearn to enter the liberal community of values. The EU has the responsibility to share the burden of spreading liberal norms and anchoring Turkey (and other EU aspirants) in the Western community by promoting liberal economic, democratic, human rights, and governance reforms (Barkey 2003; Taşpınar 2006). Hence, as put by Talbott (1998): ‘precisely in order to increase the chances that Turkey will make further progress  . . . it is important for the EU to say clearly and unequivocally that it is holding a place for Turkey when it is ready’. The success of the eastern enlargement strengthened this argument: ‘Americans are convinced that one of the EU’s most remarkable accomplishments has been its long-term strategy to spread democracy and prosperity to Europe’s east and south through expansion. This is especially true of Turkey: its desire to join the Union has been a profound incentive for positive change’.53 As in the case of the geostrategic discourse, the liberal case for Turkey in Europe struck some chords in the 1990s and early 2000s, as onlookers observed how the idea of ‘reunifying Europe’ had become a powerful force in the transition and transformation of Eastern Europe. But not only were Europeans only partially persuaded that the same liberal logic applied to Turkey, they also became less receptive to the argument as the twenty-first century progressed. More specifically, the liberal discourse in favor of Turkey’s membership suffered from three setbacks in Europe, related to Turkey, the EU, and the US, respectively. First, the argument that Turkey had to be anchored to the EU was plagued by contradictions. Implicit in the notion that Turkey required an anchor was the idea that, without it, Turkey may dangerously slide to the East, succumbing to authoritarian tendencies or to the forces of Islamism. In other words, Turkey is not inherently European but needs an external straightjacket to ensure it becomes and remains so. Rather than a positive case for Turkey in Europe, the liberal anchor argument thus advanced a far weaker negative case: ‘accept Turkey into the EU or else’.54 Added to this inherent weakness was the problem that, especially in the 1990s, it was objectively hard to make a positive liberal case for Turkey.55 As 98

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the European Commission did not fail to underline, in those years the country was embroiled in a bloody battle against the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK) and was characterized by gross human rights abuses, by a skewed military-civilian balance, and by brinkmanship with Greece and Cyprus (Commission 1998, 19–20; Commission 1999, 12–14). Ironically, as and when the liberal case for Turkey’s EU membership was being vindicated through the ‘golden years’ of Turkish reform in the early years of the twenty-first century, the predominant American argument in favor of Turkey switched from a liberal to a civilizational discourse, as discussed below. Second, whereas in the 1990s Europeans sympathized with the notion of a Union based on universal liberal values, in the new century they increasingly felt that the EU, as a political entity, could not enlarge to include all those countries that espoused a liberal agenda. The EU had to define its borders. Hence, as put by candidate Nicolas Sarkozy during the 2007 French presidential campaign: ‘A Europe without borders would be the death of the great idea of political Europe. A Europe without borders is to condemn her to become a subregion of the United Nations. I simply do not accept it’ (quoted in Yılmaz 2009, 83). Again, in 2009 the French president, in response to President Obama’s calls for Turkey’s EU membership, stated: ‘I told President Obama that it’s very important for Europe to have borders. For me Europe is a stabilizing element in the world that I cannot allow to be destroyed’.56 By 2009–2010, as the global economic crisis spilled into the eurozone crisis, the idea that the EU had to define its final borders interlocked with the growing European perception that the Union had to first devote its energies to its ailing internal integration before turning to the spread of liberal values in its neighborhood. Third, several Europeans resented what they saw as the double standards inherent in the American liberal discourse. In 2002, Denmark’s Prime Minister Anders Fogh Rasmussen accused US President George W. Bush of not understanding the European Union. To American insistence that Turkey be given a date to begin accession talks, Rasmussen replied: ‘If you are so keen in letting the Turks into the EU, why don’t you let Mexico into the United States?’57 Echoing the same line, in response to Bush’s plea in favor of Turkey in June 2004, French President Chirac replied: ‘It is not his [President Bush’s] purpose and his goal to give any advice to the EU, and in this area it was a bit as if I were to tell Americans how they should handle their relationship with Mexico’.58 In between the lines of Rasmussen and Chirac’s responses was a finger-pointing at American double standards: the US may advocate an open and liberal Europe, yet American attitudes towards the US’s southern neighbors, on questions of immigration and border control, do not live up to its own liberal rhetoric.59 The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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The Civilizational Discourse A final discursive frame used by American stakeholders to advocate Turkey’s EU accession revolves around a civilizational understanding of Turkey, Europe, and the world. As argued in chapter 1, civilizational discourses rose to the forefront during the closing stages of the Cold War. However, they gained mainstream currency in the aftermath of the attacks of September 11. On a whole, the civilizational case for Turkey’s EU membership has had a boomerang effect in Europe. While occasionally mentioned during the Clinton administration, civilizational arguments were typically articulated during the first administration of George W. Bush to support Turkey’s EU membership. The EU should accept Turkey precisely because it is Muslim: ‘America believes that as a European power, Turkey belongs in the European Union. Your membership would also be a crucial advance in relations between the Muslim world and the West, because you are part of both. Including Turkey in the EU would prove that Europe is not the exclusive club of a single religion, and it would expose the “clash of civilizations” as a passing myth of history’ (Bush 2004). This line of argument was espoused well beyond American official and neoconservative circles: ‘the symbolism of a Muslim country seeking membership in an exclusive Western organization with a predominantly Christian population acquired tremendous importance . . . Turkey’s EU membership has gained an unprecedented “civilizational” dimension since 9/11’ (Taşpınar 2006, 191). As repeatedly argued by a broad spectrum of American officials, politicians, academics, journalists, and civil society representatives in the early years of the twenty-first century, Turkey in the EU would counter the otherwise inexorable slide towards a ‘clash of civilizations’ (Sayarı 2011). As discussed in chapter 3, this argument found some reception in Europe, particularly among EU officials, member state foreign ministries, and the broader foreign policy communities within academia, the elite media, international business, and civil society. Two former European Commissioners put it eloquently. In 2004, External Relations Commissioner Chris Patten argued in favor of Turkey’s EU membership on the grounds that ‘we cannot help but be conscious of the symbolism, at this time, of reaching out a hand to a country whose population is overwhelmingly Muslim’;60 ‘we can’t say you can’t come in, no Muslims allowed, ours is a Christian club’.61 Patten was echoed by Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn (2006): ‘the accession of Turkey could pave the way for lasting peace between Europe and Islam’. The same point was made by then British Prime Minister Tony Blair when arguing that the opening of Turkey’s accession negotiations ‘show[ed] that those who believe that there is a clash 100

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of civilizations between Christians and Muslims are wrong’.62 More recently, German Christian Democrat Ruprecht Polenz, Chairman of the Bundestag’s Committee on Foreign Affairs, argued: ‘the message is that Europe does not want a clash of cultures because we are able to incorporate countries like Turkey’.63 Yet, on a whole, the American overemphasis on Turkey’s Muslim nature had a boomerang effect on a Union trapped in traditional Orientalism and poisoned by the hyper-securitization of immigration, particularly in member states such as Germany, France, the Netherlands, and Denmark. Arguing that Turkey ought to enter the EU because it is Muslim backfired equally with those on the conservative center-right and the xenophobic right who espoused a religion-driven view of Europe, as well those on the liberal center and the left who highlighted the EU’s secular nature (Casanova 2006; HurdShakman 2006). In the case of the right, emphasizing Turkey’s identity as ‘Muslim’ underscored the Union’s identity as ‘Christian’. Turkey belonged to the ‘other’ and had no place in the EU’s civilizational project. In turn, some, such as the Chairman of the German Christian Social Union Michael Glos (2001), went as far as arguing that the EU ought to revise the Copenhagen criteria, adding ‘cultural’ conditions for membership: ‘In accepting new candidates we must expect them not only to meet the criteria laid down in Copenhagen, but also to integrate easily into the European cultural context . . . precisely this capability is in doubt in the case of Turkey, a country which belongs to a different political and cultural sphere’. In a similar vein, German Chancellor Merkel (2006) argued: ‘in our interaction with other religions and cultures it will be important for us Europeans to be able to clearly define our cultural identity. This is what others expect from us. How can we defend our values if we cannot define them first?’ While not explicitly mentioning culture and religion, Goulard made a related point (2004b, 89): ‘George W. Bush has defined Turkey as “the place where two continents meet”. How to express any better the fact that Turkey, only marginally located on the European continent, in fact straddles two worlds?’ (emphasis added). For those on the left who stress the secular nature of the EU’s identity, pinpointing Turkey’s ‘Muslim’ nature is also problematic. As put by French journalist Dominique Moisi (2007): ‘When Europeans look at Islam today, they are reminded of their own zealotry and wars of religion in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries’. Hence, arguing in favor of Turkey because it is Muslim would hardly sway the minds of staunchly secular Europeans. In view of the intellectual and political backlash against an exclusive focus on religion, by the late 2000s a more subtle identity case was made across the Atlantic for Turkey’s EU membership, emphasizing the identity gains made The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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by espousing multiculturalism and multiple identities. The point was articulated most clearly by President Barack Obama (2009): ‘Turkey is an important part of Europe’ . . . so let me be clear: The US strongly supports Turkey’s bid to become a member of the EU . . . Turkey is bound to Europe by more than bridges over the Bosphorous. Centuries of shared history, culture and commerce bring you together. Europe gains by diversity of ethnicity, tradition and faith—it is not diminished by it. And Turkish membership would broaden and strengthen Europe’s foundation once more’. However, while articulated with greater nuance, American cultural arguments in favor of Turkey’s EU accession have continued to leave a distinct civilizational aftertaste in Europe.64 This has been particularly so in view of the rise of ring-wing politics across the EU. With few exceptions, such as Spain (2004 and 2008 elections), Portugal (2005 and 2009 elections), Greece (2009 elections), the UK (2001 and 2005 elections), and Cyprus (2008 elections), as the 2000s has progressed, the EU-27 has been swept by a wave of right-wing politics and has been increasingly preoccupied by domestic policy issues. This has not automatically engendered a reticence to proceed with Turkey’s accession process, as evidenced by the pro-Turkey positions of right-wing parties in Italy, the UK, Spain, and most East European member states. Yet in most other cases, as discussed in chapter 3, conservative and right-wing political parties tend to be more skeptical of Turkey’s EU membership for reasons that are fundamentally related to culture and religion. Most acutely, the election of Chancellor Merkel in Germany in 2005 and of President Sarkozy in France in 2007 reversed the French-German duo from being a motor in favor of Turkey’s accession to a formidable break against it. In this context, American calls for a multicultural, inclusive, and outward-looking Europe in which Turkey would represent an indispensible asset has fallen on deaf ears in a Union enmeshed in internal debates over religion, migration, terrorism, and economic recession. The 2008–2009 global recession and the ensuing crisis of the eurozone added fuel to the fire of these trends. As argued by Rumelili (2008), a persuasive identity case for Turkey in the EU is a sine qua non for Turkey’s membership. This hinges on presenting and accepting Turkey’s identity as overlapping with, borrowing from, and enriching the EU’s own identity. On a whole, underlining Turkey’s Muslim identity is not a persuasive ‘selling point’ in Europe. It backfires both with conservative Christians and with liberal/left secularists, who see an insurmountable gap between Turkey’s ‘Muslim’ character and their understanding of what the EU’s identity should be about. By contrast, an emphasis on multiple and hybrid identities, concomitantly Turkish and European, would in principle make for a far stronger case for Turkey in Europe. Yet a persisting American 102

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accent on culture/religion when talking about Turkey alongside the culturalist turn in European and global politics mean that unidimensional civilizational discourses continue to have the upper hand over nuanced identity arguments in favor of Turkey’s EU membership.

Conclusions This chapter has mapped the influence of American support for deeper ties between Turkey and the EU. It has shown how the US was critical in kickstarting Turkey’s accession process in the 1990s through quiet diplomacy, which articulated a mix of geostrategic and liberal arguments for Turkey’s European integration. At the time, these arguments resonated in Europe for several reasons, ranging from the transatlantic unity of the early post–Cold War years to the alignment of domestic politics in several European capitals. In the new millennium, however, Washington’s ideational and discursive power in Europe progressively lost sway. This is partly because of the means and methods of American advocacy. It is mainly because of the failure of American stakeholders to appreciate the decreasing effectiveness of geostrategic arguments in favor of Turkey’s accession and the boomerang effect of the civilizational case for Turkey’s EU membership. The negative impact of these arguments was then magnified by a transformed institutional and political context in Europe, which has shaped European debates on Turkey. Precisely, Turkey’s entry into the institutional framework of enlargement and the rise of right-wing politics in Europe have, for different reasons, dramatically reduced the scope for direct US influence on Turkey-EU relations. Looking ahead, whereas some factors shaping the effectiveness of American advocacy in Europe are likely to change, others are deeper and are set to stay. The style and content of American advocacy can and has changed over the years, as have trends in transatlantic relations and European domestic politics. By contrast, other more structural developments, such as the global civilizational discourse or the internal nature of the EU enlargement project, will probably remain in the foreseeable future. This suggests that a reduced effectiveness of direct American advocacy on EU-Turkey relations is likely to persist in the years ahead. However, this is not to point to an inexorable decline in the density of dynamics between the US, Turkey, and the EU. As the following chapters explore, unlike direct American advocacy, the indirect channels through which the US influences the relationship between Turkey and the EU have been and are likely to remain of key importance. The Role of Direct American Advocacy

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5 Influencing Europe Through the Back Door The Role of US-Turkey Relations

As discussed in chapter 4, the US, through its advocacy over the years, was pivotal in jump-starting Turkey’s accession process. Over the last decade, however, the effectiveness of American ideational and discursive power on Europe declined. Notwithstanding, the US has continued to play a significant role indirectly, by shaping the overall strategic and intellectual environments in which EU-Turkey relations unfold. This chapter explores how, deliberately or otherwise, the US has influenced Turkey’s path to Europe through its own relationship with Turkey. It begins by mapping the ebbs and flows in US-Turkey relations over the twentieth century and beyond. It then analyses the European reactions to US-Turkey relations, exploring how American material, ideational, and discursive expressions of power on Turkey are received in Europe and consequently how they influence European approaches towards Turkey.

Mapping the Evolution of US-Turkey Relations Unlike ties to Europe, shaped by a centuries-long history of war and commerce, intermarriage, art, and cuisine (Deringil 2007), Turkey’s relations with the US have a briefer and narrower history. Prior to World War II, Ottoman-American relations, formally established in 1830, were limited. Trade was confined to the US import of tobacco and textiles and the export of petroleum and surplus weapons from the civil war. In addition, since 1820, American Protestant missionaries had engaged in religious, educational, and health initiatives in Istanbul and Anatolia,1 including the establishment of Robert College (today’s Boğazici University) in 1863 (Freely 2009). While limited in scope, Ottoman-American relations were ridden by no small dose 104

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of distrust in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In the US, distrust was generated by the quixotic and threatening image of the Empire in American popular culture (Little 2008), by Ottoman alignment with Germany in World War I, as well as by the outspoken denunciation by US Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau (1913–16) of the Armenian genocide. American support for Greek and Armenian self-determination, the American inclination to defend the rights of Ottoman Christians, and the ‘Wilsonian’ inspiration of the Treaty of Sèvres further stirred suspicion between the two (Larrabee and Lesser 2001, 161). Combined, these factors contributed to a seven year delay in the US’s ratification of the Lausanne Treaty in 1930 (Vander Lippe 1993).2 As the end of World War II ushered the way to the Cold War, TurkishAmerican relations acquired a distinctly strategic-security character. As early as 1945, the Soviet Union began making its revisionist intents towards the Turkish Republic abundantly clear. It called for a revision of the 1936 Montreux Convention regulating access through the Turkish straits, made demands on the Turkish provinces of Kars and Ardahan, and announced it would not renew the 1925 Treaty of Neutrality and Non-Aggression with Turkey. From being a low-key and marginal question in American foreign policy, Turkey was thus catapulted to its epicenter. This, however, involved neither an immediate strengthening of Turkish-American relations nor an automatic US commitment to Turkey’s security (Athanassopoulou 1999). Despite Turkish resolve to enter NATO (Hale 2000, 109–11), Washington was initially deeply skeptical of the prospect (Kubieck 2009). True, in the 1930s Turkey had drawn closer to what would become the ‘West’, through its rapprochement with the UK, culminating in the Tripartite Alliance between France, Turkey, and the UK in 1939. However, in the early postwar period, the scales did not tip in favor of Turkey’s NATO membership. The entrenched Ottoman-American mistrust in the previous century, Turkey’s neutrality in World War II, the large but ill-equipped Turkish army, the vulnerability of the 370-mile Turkish-Soviet border, and Turkey’s non-Atlantic geography, meant that Washington, and the Pentagon in particular, felt that Turkey may have been a security liability to the West (Barkey 1992). The tide began to turn when Acting Secretary of State Dean Acheson and President Harry Truman became gradually persuaded of the imperative of protecting Turkey against the Soviet Union (Harris 1972, 19; Kaplan 1994, 47; Kubieck 2009; Kuniholm 1980, 363). The fact that Greece, benefiting from strong Greek lobbying on the Hill, was included in the Truman Doctrine (1947) and the Marshall Plan (1948–52), ironically strengthened the case for The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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Turkey’s inclusion in both initiatives too. Thereafter, Turkey’s transition to multiparty democracy in 1950 and its 5,000-troop contribution to the Korean War in 1950–53 ‘shamed’ Americans into committing to Turkey’s inclusion in NATO (Barkey 1992). The globalization of the US’s containment strategy and Turkey’s contribution to the Korean War in particular overturned US views on Turkey’s NATO membership. Thereafter, the US began viewing Turkey as a critical barrier against the Soviet Union. With its entry in NATO in 1952 and the signing of the 1954 US-Turkey Military Facilities Agreement, Ankara allowed the construction of NATO military installations and the basing of a large number of American troops in Turkey. Through the course of the Cold War, Turkey’s strategic significance as NATO’s southern flank grew. As a NATO member, Turkey allowed NATO’s control of the Turkish straits, acted as a buffer between the USSR and the Middle East, diverted Warsaw Pact forces from the Central Zone, denied the Soviet Union over-flight rights, and provided bases and listening installations to NATO. The US also stationed intermediate-range nuclear missiles and bombers in Turkey to serve as a bulwark against the Soviet Union. After the ‘loss’ of Iran as a Western ally in 1979 and the 1980 Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, Turkish-American relations were further strengthened through the 1980 Defense and Economic Cooperation Agreement. The agreement foresaw the establishment and maintenance of American bases in Turkey, the upgrading of Turkish military bases, and Turkish-American joint ventures in the defense industry (Güney 2005). Turkish-American relations did not develop smoothly over the course of the Cold War, however (Barkey 1992; Larrabee and Lesser 2001). On the contrary, key moments of tension and rupture characterized bilateral ties in the 1960s and 1970s. These included the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, in which Washington consented, without prior consultation with Ankara, to remove the Jupiter missiles from Turkey as the quid pro quo for the Soviet dismantling of missiles in Cuba; the 1964 ‘Johnson letter’, in which the US president threatened Ankara not to intervene were the Soviets to attack Turkey in response to a Turkish intervention in Cyprus; and most dramatically, the 1975–78 American arms embargo on Turkey following the 1974 Turkish invasion in Cyprus, retaliated by Ankara’s closure of most American bases in Turkey. The end of the Cold War projected Turkish-American relations onto a new panorama, which, as discussed in chapter 4, easily could have seen a drift in bilateral ties had it not been for the 1990–91 Gulf War. Turkey’s participation in the war and in the ensuing Western policy towards Iraq recon106

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firmed the image of Turkey as a front state of the West and a spearhead of American interests in the Middle East. More precisely, developments in Iraq generated a deep bind of mutual dependence between the US and Turkey (Barkey 2003). Washington was overtly dependent on Turkey’s cooperation with the sanctions regime against Iraq and the implementation of Operation Provide Comfort. Turkey also had little choice but to cooperate with Washington. Had it opted otherwise, Turkey would have sided in practice with Saddam Hussein’s Iraq and against the West, a choice viewed as unthinkable by the vast majority of Turks.3 Furthermore, Turkey’s compliance with the US gave Ankara a free hand to intervene militarily in Northern Iraq to eradicate the PKK presence there. The second half of the 1990s witnessed a high point in post–Cold War US-Turkey relations. Beyond cooperation in Iraq and Washington’s steady support for Turkey’s European integration, bilateral ties flourished in view of Turkish-American cooperation in the Balkans (see chapter 6), US intervention to avert a Greek-Turkish war in 1996 and in 1999 to deliver PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan to Turkey (Kirişci 2001a).4 The Clinton administration’s concerted efforts to promote the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline in the second half of the 1990s represented a further anchor in US-Turkish relations in those years (Baran 2004). Epitomizing the height of bilateral ties was the visit by President Bill Clinton to Turkey for the November 1999 OSCE summit (Kirişci 2001a). On that occasion, Clinton, the first US president to address the Turkish Grand National Assembly (TGNA), elevated bilateral relations to the vague yet glossy category of ‘strategic partnership’ (Aydın 2009). True to history, however, Turkish-American relations in the 1990s were all but smooth. Although Turkey had participated in the Gulf War and in the ensuing deliberations underpinning Operation Provide Comfort,5 as the 1990s progressed Ankara became increasingly uneasy with the US approach to Iraq. It resented the costs it incurred through the war: large-scale refugee influxes,6 an aggravation of the PKK insurgency, and financial losses from the war and the sanctions that ensued.7 It begrudged the infringements of sovereignty that came with the US/UK use of the Incirlik base to monitor the nofly zones in Iraq and the emerging reality of an autonomous area in Northern Iraq, which it considered responsible for the aggravation of the PKK insurgency.8 More broadly, the Turkish elites and public believed that Washington either supported or did little to deter the PKK in Northern Iraq, further fanning the flames of Turkish suspicion and Turkish-American distancing (Oran 1996). Testimony to the Turkish disenchantment with the US were the acrimonious TGNA debates which preceded the six-monthly renewal vote The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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on the US/UK use of the Incirlik base until 1997 (Barkey 2003, 217; Kirişci 2001a).9 Beyond Iraq, Turkish-American relations in the 1990s were often tense in view of Congress’s highly critical approach towards Turkey’s human rights record and policies on Cyprus, Greece, and Armenia. Congress’s criticisms came with the frequent threat of withholding and delaying arms transfers to Turkey (Barkey 2003). Notwithstanding these tensions, the relationship remained firm and in the aftermath of the attacks of September 11, 2001, Turkey immediately declared and demonstrated its support for the US (Barkey 2003). It cooperated in anti-terrorist activities and participated in the war in Afghanistan by deploying special forces, allowing over-flight rights, and providing logistical and intelligence support to the US. With the fall of the Taliban regime, Turkey immediately committed to NATO’s International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), taking over its command for the first time and raising its troop levels to 1,300 troops in 2002. Yet, as the US and Turkey entered the twenty-first century, Iraq continued to represent the primary bone of contention between the two. As the administration of George W. Bush mobilized for the second war against Iraq, Turkey, recalling still-fresh memories of the 1990s, had little appetite for a new invasion. Yet in Washington’s war plans, Turkey was crucial, allowing the US Fourth Infantry Division to pursue a second front attack against the regime in Baghdad. Over the winter of 2002–2003, Washington and Ankara haggled over the issue, whereby the former attempted to assuage the latter’s preoccupations with the costs of an offensive by offering $2 billion in aid and $24 billion in loan guarantees, and giving the right to 40,000 Turkish troops to intervene in Northern Iraq to create a buffer zone (Robins 2003b). The upand-coming yet still inexperienced Justice and Development Party government ultimately acquiesced to American demands, submitting these in a motion to parliament. The military, by contrast, officially kept silent in the background, yet implicitly signaled its disapproval of the deal. In turn, on March 1, 2003, partly by chance yet largely in response to overwhelming public opposition to the war, the lack of a clear UN mandate as well as the military’s unease, the TGNA refused to approve American use of the country’s territory to invade Iraq (Robins 2003b; Barkey 2003). Turkey did open its airspace to US combat aircraft and allowed its territory to be used for humanitarian operations and logistical support for US personnel in Iraq. In addition, a subsequent vote by the TGNA in October 2003 approved the deployment of 10,000 Turkish troops to Iraq. Yet by then, in the minds of American military strategists, Turkey no longer represented the unbreakable bridge for the pur108

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suit of US military aims. In fact, Washington, heeding the will and concerns of Iraqi Kurds, rebuffed Turkey’s troop offer in the fall of 2003. Relations plummeted further in the summer of 2003, when on July 4, US troops raided a Turkish army post in Sulemaniyeh, hooding 11 soldiers and interrogating them over an alleged plan to assassinate the mayor of the Northern Iraqi town (Aydın 2009). Turkish officials, politicians, and public interpreted what became known as the ‘hood incident’ as a humiliating American retaliation for the March 2003 vote. Retaliation was probably not the intention, yet undoubtedly the Pentagon, and in particular CENTCOM, viewed Turkey’s ‘no’ vote as partly responsible for the Iraqi insurgency (Taşpınar 2008) and considered Turkish preoccupations with the PKK as an unwanted distraction from the pursuit of their mandate in Iraq (Larrabee 2007a, 9).10 Bilateral ties hovered close to rock bottom over the following three years, leading many to bemoan the golden 1990s in spite of the many disagreements in those years. In 2007, relations were aggravated when House Resolution 106 recognizing the Armenian genocide was submitted to Congress and thereafter passed in the Committee of Foreign Affairs, triggering Turkey to recall temporarily its Ambassador. Iraq, however, remained the primary source of tension, driven by Turkish concerns about Northern Iraqi autonomy and the implications for its own Kurdish region (Barkey 2009).11 Turkey resented the insufficient US cooperation in the fight against Kurdish separatism, particularly after the resumption of PKK attacks in the summer of 2004 and their aggravation in 2005–7. The tide turned when Washington agreed to take Turkish concerns over the PKK more seriously. The seeds for an improvement in bilateral ties were sown in a July 2006 meeting, when Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice outlined a ‘Strategic Vision and Structured Dialogue to Advance the Turkish-American Strategic Relationship’. This was followed by the establishment of a mechanism for bilateral military coordination in September 2006, and a visit by Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan to the White House in November 2007, in which the US committed to fighting the PKK through a new working relationship between the two militaries and by providing real-time intelligence on the location of PKK bases in return for Turkish restraint in the conduct of ground operations (Aydın 2009, 138; Larrabee 2010, 18–19). The shift in US-Turkey-Iraq dynamics led to a decisive improvement in USTurkey ties. Marking an important break from the past two decades, Iraq has become a prime area of Turkish-American cooperation. In particular, the prosThe Role of US-Turkey Relations

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pect of a US withdrawal from Iraq has removed the central point of tension in US-Turkey relations, calming Turkish fears of a US-sponsored Kurdish state. In Afghanistan as well, Turkey took command of ISAF for the second time in 2005 and increased troop levels to over 1,700 by 2009.12 In addition, the Turkish development agency (TIKA) provided over 45 percent of its overall aid, amounting to $780 million, to Afghanistan.13 It is in this context that in April 2009, President Obama re-dubbed the US-Turkey relationship as a ‘model partnership’ (Obama 2009). In December 2009, Turkey and the US established a ‘Framework for Strategic Economic and Commercial Cooperation’. Yet again and in keeping with the past, not all has been smooth in Turkish-American relations. In 2009–11, US officials have criticized Turkey’s stance towards Israel and Iran. In particular, US state and non-state actors alike have watched with caution the deepening crisis in Turkish-Israeli relations and Turkey’s efforts to avoid sanctions on Iran. These events have made some Turkey watchers in the US question the ongoing validity of the Turkish-American alliance (Cook 2010). In addition, in 2010 relations soured over a resolution on the Armenian genocide, which passed in Congress’s Committee of Foreign Affairs and triggered Turkey to recall temporarily its ambassador. Drama aside, however, relations have undoubtedly picked up compared to the early years of the twenty-first century, echoing more of the optimism of the second half of the 1990s.

Exploring European Reactions to US-Turkey Relations Relations with the US have represented a cornerstone in Turkish foreign policy since the inception of the Cold War. As such, they have played a formative role in Turkey itself, shaping both Turkey’s domestic and foreign policies. How have US-Turkey relations affected European perceptions, positions, and policies towards Turkey? US-Turkey relations have featured material, ideational, and discursive forms of US power, which have had different repercussions on European approaches towards Turkey. Figure 5.1 outlines graphically the argument explored over the rest of this chapter.

The Impact of American Material Power on Turkey As discussed in chapter 2, a constant in US-Turkey relations is the instrumental American approach towards Turkey. Turkey matters to America because of its central role in the accomplishment of US foreign policy goals, from the containment of the Soviet Union to the projection of American 110

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Figure 5.1. Mapping the Impact of American Power on Turkey

interests in the Middle East and Eurasia. In order to accomplish these, notably military, goals, the US has placed a number of demands on Turkey over the years. These have included the use of military bases in Anatolia or the deployment of Turkish armed forces in various theaters of operation. In return, the US has offered Turkey security protection and provided financial assistance not least in order to mitigate the costs of war and instability (Abramowitz 2006). Until the late 1990s, Turkey was a major recipient of US economic and security assistance, receiving an average of approximately $500 million per year between 1990 and 1997 (Migdalovitz 2002, 21). As the Cold War came to an end, Turkey was actually the third largest recipient of US aid after Israel and Egypt (Kirişci 2001a, 131). Moreover, the US was critical in securing International Monetary Fund stand-by agreements for Turkey during the country’s successive crises at the turn of the century (Migdalovitz 2002, 20).14 Material power has thus featured prominently in US-Turkey relations, taking the form of American demands on Turkey, viewed as necessary for the accomplishment of US foreign policy goals, in return for rewards to induce and ensure Turkey’s compliance. Turkey, however, has also been an agent in its own right in the relationship. Hence, at different points in time, Turkey has reacted differently to American demands. Simply put, at times the Turkish reaction has been marked by acquiescence and acceptance, at other times, by resistance. Both reactions have solicited a set of European responses. Turkey’s acquiescence and the broader strategic closeness between Turkey and the US is viewed differently by ‘Europeanists’, who stress the imperative of a tightly integrated Europe to assert its independence on the world stage in cooperation with the US, and by ‘Atlanticists’, who place greater emphasis on Europe’s identity as an integral element of the broader Atlantic community. Simply put, the US-Turkey strategic relationship is seen either as The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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unproblematic or as an asset by those in the EU upholding the vision of an Atlantic Europe. It is viewed with caution by those promoting the idea of a ‘European Europe’ instead. Looking at general trends across member states, the Turkish-American strategic relationship thus evokes sympathy among strongly Atlanticist member states such as the UK, the Netherlands, Poland, Romania, or Hungary, while arousing skepticism in member states prioritizing a more Europeanist worldview, such as France, Austria, Belgium, or Greece. Other member states, however, including Germany and Italy, do not easily fall into either one category or the other. Yet on balance, Turkey’s closeness to the US and, above all, Turkey’s strategic dependence on Washington have had negative repercussions on European approaches to Turkey. With the exception of many Eastern European onlookers, Europeans tend to view US material power on Turkey as indicative of Turkey’s deficient democracy and inadequacy to meet EU criteria. Far from being able to democratically determine its future, Turkey is seen as a ‘puppet’ in Washington’s hands. Hence, for example, Turkey’s participation in the 1990–91 Gulf War and American financial aid to Turkey in order to mitigate the costs of war, while appreciated by many Europeans, were debated in relation to the widespread Turkish opposition to the war (Güney 2005, 345). Likewise, in the fall of 2002–3, the months-long Turkish-American wrangling over the price tag that would have come with Turkish compliance with US demands was covered extensively in the European media in often cynical and condescending tones.15 Turkey is often portrayed as an important Middle Eastern ally, such as Jordan or Egypt, whose dependence on the US guarantees its reliability in Western foreign policy endeavors. Yet precisely this image reinforces the view that Turkey is not, in fact, part of Europe. Particularly for those (typically Europeanist) Europeans who are persuaded of the American resistance to a politically (and not merely economically) integrated Europe, Turkey’s membership is likened to an ‘American Trojan Horse’ in the EU (Lesser 2008). To the extent that the US is suspected of being willing to stall the European project and able to pull the strings behind Ankara’s moves, some Europeans fear that EU member Turkey would constitute an internal break to the European integration process.16 The fact that Turkey’s relationship with the US deepened and improved in the second half of the 1990s, when EU-Turkey relations faltered (between 1997 and 1999), only served to reinforce the image of Turkey as a US proxy in the EU (Aydın 2009, 133). The ‘Trojan horse’ image, premised on the exercise of American material power on Turkey, has been used as a powerful argument against Turkey’s EU membership, particularly in the 1990s and early 2000s. 112

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As amply discussed above, however, Turkey and the US have not always seen eye to eye over the course of their strategic relationship, and on several occasions Turkey has outspokenly resisted US demands. On a variety of foreign policy questions and most notably on Iraq, Iran, and Israel, Ankara and Washington have often parted ways. Turkey’s position on some of these questions at times has more closely resembled that of several EU member states. As stated by Lesser (2008, 216), ‘especially on Iraq and Iran, Turkey has often been in the European vanguard, even “European-and-a-half ” in many respects’. This point was reiterated by a Polish News Bulletin in 2004: ‘The Turkish government was very sceptical on Iraq, and opinion polls show that a decisive majority of the Turks regard swift integration with the EU as more important than good relations with the US. From a purely technical point of view, Turkey’s accession, with its powerful armed forces and strategic location, would strengthen rather than weaken federal Europe’s global ambitions’.17 Furthermore, Turkey displays significant levels of anti-Americanism (Abramowitz 2000), which permeates diverse groups in society, including the religious, the leftists, the secularist nationalists, and the rightists, within the private and public sectors, within the civilian bureaucracy and the military. Many are the causes of Turkish anti-Americanism, ranging from the Wilsonian inspiration of the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres (Lesser 2007) and the strained relations with Congress throughout the twentieth century, to the debacles in Turkish-American ties such as the 1964 ‘Johnson letter’, the 1975 arms embargo, and frictions over Iraq. To what extent has this ‘distance’ between Turkey and the US been observed in Europe and how is it perceived? A litmus test to address this question is the European reaction to the crisis in Turkish-American relations during the 2003 US war in Iraq. Nowhere was Turkey’s distancing from Washington more evident and Turkey’s shunning of American material power more flamboyant than in the event of the TGNA’s rejection of US demands in March 2003. From a European vantage point, Turkey’s vote entailed a de facto siding with France and Germany, at the helm of the anti-war coalition yet skeptical of Turkey’s EU membership.18 By contrast, the TGNA’s vote hindered the war plans, not only of the US, but also of its Europeans allies—the UK, Portugal, and Spain—which supported Turkey’s EU accession. Turkey’s vote was closely followed by the European media, viewed with bewilderment by a public accustomed to Turkey’s deference to Washington. It was hailed by opponents of the war and, having taken place at the height of Turkey’s pro-EU reforms, it was heralded as a The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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new age in Turkish democracy (Kirişci 2004). Furthermore, the vote and the US’s ensuing refusal to allow Turkish troops to enter massively into Iraq prevented friction between Turkey and the EU and created a more conducive atmosphere for Turkey to progress on its path of reform (Öniş and Yilmaz 2005; Kayhan and Lindley 2006). For example, had Turkey participated in the war it would have probably reintroduced emergency rule in its southeastern provinces, which, under considerable EU encouragement, Ankara had just lifted. Interestingly, however, the March 2003 vote did not fundamentally alter European views of Turkey (Barkey 2008). Whereas few in Europe followed the issue closely enough to know the uncertainties underpinning the TGNA’s vote, many did observe that Turkey nonetheless supported the war effort by allowing US over-flight rights and logistical support through its territory, and by approving the deployment of its troops to Iraq in October 2003. While denying US demands, Turkey thus did not squarely fall into the anti-war camp, and its position resembled more that of Italy, which, contrary to the government’s will, declared non-belligerency while allowing US over-flight rights and use of its military bases.19 Particularly for those on the left, the March 2003 vote was welcome and may have partly dislodged ideas about Turkey being an American ‘Trojan horse’, but it was insufficient. More broadly, for those who put a premium on Turkey’s reform efforts, the debacle in Turkish-American relations was not seen as a sign of Turkish democracy but as a prelude to reinvigorated Turkish meddling in Iraq to counter Kurdish separatism (Göle 2006, 258–59). Others instead argued that Trojan horse arguments were never genuine, and always acted as a shield to hide European reluctance to embrace ‘Muslim’ Turkey.20 Discrediting the Trojan horse thesis did not alter European views about Turkey’s EU membership because the thesis was not genuine in the first place. This argument was articulated predominantly by neoconservative Americans. As put by Fouad Ajami (2003, 55–56): ‘The protesters in the streets burned American flags in the apparent hope that Europeans (real Europeans, that is) would finally take Turkey and the Turks into the fold  .  .  . no dosage of anti-Americanism, the Turks will soon realize, will take Turkey past the gatekeepers of Europe’. Moreover, the war in Iraq epitomized the height of anti-Americanism in Turkey. Whereas in 2000, 53 percent of Turkish respondents had a positive view of the US, this figure fell to 30 percent in 2002 and 15 percent in 2003 (Ojanen 2008, 237). In 2005, as many as 85 percent of respondents believed that American policies represented a threat to peace and security,21 while in 2006, a mere 7 percent approved of President Bush’s handling of interna114

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tional affairs (Transatlantic Trends 2006). Negative views of the US in Turkey skyrocketed as the war in Iraq reawakened dormant nationalism and insecurity in the country. Opposition to perceived American imperialism in the Middle East interlocked with Turkey’s own ‘Sèvres syndrome’22 ignited by the suspicion of US support for Northern Iraqi secession and the humiliation of being portrayed as pawns to be bought off by American money (Kirişci 2004). Anti-Americanism fuelled and was fed by Turkish popular culture, as evidenced by bestseller novels such as Metal Firtina (Metal Storm) in 2004 and films such as Kurtlar Vadisi Irak (Valley of the Wolves Iraq) in 2006. Turkish anti-Americanism, while quietly appreciated by some leftist and human rights groups in Europe, was frowned upon by Atlanticists in the EU and by those who interpreted Turkish sentiment as being driven by Muslim solidarity rather than by European values.23 Whereas support for the US under the presidency of George W. Bush was low throughout the EU, the fact that it was even lower in Turkey (Transatlantic Trends 2009) was interpreted as the product of Muslim rather than European outrage at American activities in the Middle East. As one observer asserted with confidence: ‘Turks opposed the war in Iraq for entirely different reasons than Europeans’.24

The Impact of American Ideational Power on Turkey Whereas American material power has featured prominently in USTurkey relations, it has had a relatively secondary role in promoting Turkish political reform. Particularly in the second half of the 1990s, when US aid to Turkey was still considerable, Washington did leverage its assistance to Turkey on internal reform questions. In 1994, for example, Congress passed legislation which both reduced the amount of aid to Turkey and made 10 percent of it conditional on an improvement of the Kurdish question (Kirişci and Winrow 1997, 175). Upon instigation from Congress, in 1995 the State Department delayed issuing export licences of Cobra helicopters on the grounds that these would be deployed against the Kurdish population (Kirişci 2001a, 138). These measures played some role in triggering minor amendments to the Turkish Constitution and the Anti-Terror Law in the mid-1990s, which, as discussed in chapter 4, contributed to securing the European Parliament’s ratification of the customs union agreement (Kirişci and Winrow 1997, 179). However, since 1999, US aid to Turkey has dwindled,25 and in turn the US has had few carrots to offer Turkey to induce it to embark on domestic and foreign policy reform. Furthermore, unlike the EU, the US does not possess alternative incentives to spur Turkish reform. As for The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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sticks, in the form of Congressional delays of arms transfers to Turkey, these were effective in mounting the pressure for political reform in Turkey. But their impact was limited principally by the fact that Turkey is a prized market for the US defense industry,26 reducing the credibility of Congressional threats in the long term. In view of this, the White House and State Department have attempted to induce Turkish reform principally through their exercise of ideational power. Successive American administrations have put different emphases on Turkish reform through private and public diplomacy (Sayarı 2011). In the 1980s and early 1990s, the heightened geostrategic need for Turkish cooperation by the administrations of Ronald Reagan and George H. W. Bush meant an easing of American critiques of Turkish human rights violations, despite their exacerbation in the aftermath of the 1980 military coup. Likewise, in the early twenty-first century, the administration of George W. Bush rarely criticized Turkey’s democratic shortcomings, seeking Ankara’s cooperation in the ‘War on Terror’ and Iraq (Taşpınar 2009). American officials kept notoriously silent during the aggravation of the polarization between the AKP and the secularist establishment in 2007–8, epitomized by the controversy over the presidential election of Abdullah Gül and the judicial closure against the AKP. When Turkish democracy was mentioned by US officials at the time, it was rather praised as a ‘model for the Muslim world’. By contrast, particularly in the second half of the 1990s, the Clinton administration was vocal on the need for Turkish reform. Through the State Department’s annual human rights reports and acclaimed public speeches, including that of Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott in 1998 at the Near East Institute in Washington and that of President Clinton in 1999 at the TGNA in Ankara, the US passionately advocated freedom of expression,27 extended political participation and civic life, the fight against torture and impunity, and the imperative of a non-military solution to the Kurdish problem. As put by Talbott (1998): ‘we believe that limiting avenues for legitimate political activity—whether by putting people in jail for what they write or say or by banning political parties or by shutting down NGOs—carries the risk of unintended consequences’. American officials also pressured Turkey behind closed doors. In 1997, for example, the State Department negotiated with then Turkish Prime Minister Mesut Yılmaz seven benchmarked criteria for reform, including the freedom of speech, releasing journalists and parliamentarians, ending torture, reopening NGOs, expanding political participation, lifting the state of emergency in the Kurdish-inhabited southeast, and resettling Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) (Barkey 2003). In 1999, in 116

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view of the strong civil society resistance against holding the OSCE summit in Istanbul, President Clinton backed the summit but demanded that Turkey allowed a parallel civil society conference to take place alongside the official summit (Kirişci 2001a, 142). Careful not to upset its strategic ally, the Clinton administration never made its relationship with Turkey overly conditional on the progress of Turkish reforms and kept quiet during instances of democratic suspension, such as the 1997 ‘soft’ coup that ousted the coalition government of the Islamist leader Necmettin Erbakan. Rather, Washington engaged Turkey through noncoercive diplomacy. It emphasized the State Department’s annual human rights reports in which Turkey featured prominently (second only to China) and was ‘effusive with praise’ when Turkey progressed along the path of reform (Barkey 2003, 220). The mix between US diplomatic pressure and praise in those years played an important role in triggering the first minor amendments in the Turkish Constitution which contributed to the 1999 Helsinki European Council decision. The Obama administration has also made references to the need for Turkey to energize its commitment to reform, but has not engaged on Turkish reform issues in the same way as President Clinton had. In addressing the TGNA in April 2009, the US president called for the reopening of the Halki seminary, the entrenchment of minority rights and the rule of law, an internal debate over the ‘terrible events’ of 191528 and the need to reopen the border with Armenia (Obama 2009). Likewise, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton advocated the expansion of the freedoms of expression and religion and the importance of a vibrant civil society.29 As its predecessors, however, the Obama administration has not stalled its relationship with Turkey because of Turkish domestic shortcomings, wording its reprimands to Ankara with prudence. In response to the closure of the pro-Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP) in 2009, for example, the State Department limited itself to stating that ‘the ruling of the Constitutional Court is a matter internal to Turkey. . . . However, we believe that Turkey’s democratic system should continue to advance political freedoms for all its citizens. Measures that limit if restrain these freedoms should be exercised with extreme caution’.30 In 2010, the Obama administration also remained on the sidelines of Turkey’s highly polarized referendum campaign on a significant package of constitutional reforms. How has American ideational power regarding Turkish reform influenced the EU? As discussed in chapter 4, the US’s insistence on Turkish reform in the 1990s represented a pillar in Washington’s strategy to encourage Turkey’s deeper European integration. Although American ideational power on The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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Turkey did not engender large-scale reform,31 the domestic reforms spurred in 1995 in the run-up to the customs union agreement and in 1999 in the run-up to the Helsinki European Council, were critical in moving forward Turkey’s European integration. Beyond specific reform successes, US, and particularly the State Department’s, focus on human rights in Turkey in the 1990s signaled to the EU that it was not alone in pressing Ankara to address Turkey’s democratic shortcomings. Yet American ideational power on Turkish reform also had its limits, which became increasingly evident as Turkey entered the EU accession process in 1999. The US has always prioritized its strategic ties to Turkey over insistence on democratic reform. This is not due to the lack of genuine American preoccupation with Turkey’s democracy and human rights record. It is rather because of the imperative of cultivating cooperation with Turkey on an array of strategic questions, alongside the realization that, unlike the EU, the US possesses only blunt sticks and carrots to engage Ankara on questions of Turkish reform. Washington’s awareness of its delicate balancing act between supporting reform in Turkey and securing its own strategic interests in fact provided a founding rationale behind the US support for Turkey’s EU membership (Abramowitz 2000). Through European integration, Turkey would democratize while maintaining and deepening its strategic cooperation with the US. Indeed, as and when Turkey entered the accession process, the EU demonstrated it was far better placed to engage Turkey on its domestic reforms than the US. On the one hand, the incentive of membership was more valuable than anything the US could offer Turkey through strategic alignment and economic assistance. On the other hand, deep into its experience of the eastern enlargement, the EU had developed a sophisticated set of instruments and techniques to encourage candidate Turkey to embark on reform, ranging from policies of conditionality and rule enforcement to socialization (Grabbe 2001, 2005; Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier 2005; Smith 2004). During the accession process (see box 3.1 in chapter 3), provided it is credible in the eyes of both the EU and above all Turkey, the EU can induce candidate Turkey’s reforms in the political, social, economic, administrative, and legislative domains in a manner that the US cannot. Through its Progress Reports, the Commission monitors Turkey’s preparations for membership; through its Accession Partnership documents and the opening and closing of the accession negotiations, the Commission and Council spell out the recommendations and benchmarks Turkey is expected to fulfill; and through the decisions of the Council of Ministers and the European Council, the EU 118

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dangles the ‘carrots’ embedded in the enlargement policy (i.e., the candidate’s promotion to the successive steps in the accession process), inducing a sustained process of reform in Turkey. Particularly in the 2000s, however, Washington has been far more relevant in engendering change on three questions lying at the heart of Turkish national security: the Kurds, Cyprus, and Armenia. All three questions represent critical stumbling blocks in Turkey’s European integration. Particularly the Kurdish and Armenian issues are close to the hearts of European public opinion.32 On all three questions the US enjoys a comparative advantage over the EU. Since the 1990s, the Kurdish problem has impaired Turkey’s path to Europe, featuring prominently in EU recommendations to Turkey. In 1995, the imprisonment of several Kurdish deputies (in 1994) delayed the EP’s ratification of the customs union agreement (Krauss 2000). Since 1998 the Kurdish question has been repeatedly mentioned in the European Commission’s Progress Reports on Turkey (Tocci 2007). In its successive reports, the Commission emphasized the imperative of guaranteeing nondiscrimination, and the freedoms of thought, expression, association, peaceful assembly, and religion. It recommended the abolition of the death penalty (including the revocation of Öcalan’s death sentence), the eradication of torture, and the respect for rights in trials and detention periods. It condemned the destruction of villages, and insisted on an end of emergency rule, the return of displaced persons, and the dissolution of the village guard system in the southeast.33 The Commission also advocated the right to use Kurdish names, to Kurdish broadcasting, and to Kurdish education in Turkey. It called for effective Kurdish political participation, encouraging local government and frowning upon the closure of pro-Kurdish parties and the 10 percent electoral threshold. Despite its assiduous emphasis on the Kurdish question, the EU has had limited ability to encourage an overall solution to the problem. Whereas its human rights recommendations have been specific and have spurred significant reform in Turkey, the EU has been rather vague regarding the overall solution to the Kurdish problem. The EU has not gone beyond calling for ‘a political and non-military solution to the problem of the southeast’ (Commission 1998, 20), which would include the recognition of Kurdish cultural identity, a strategy for socio-economic development and the entrenchment of full rights by the Kurds (Commission 2004a, 167). In the sphere of governance, the Commission only hinted that Turkey ‘may consider’ devolving responsibilities to sectoral ministries or to new regional structures (Commission 2005, 103). In terms of group rights, the Commission has never explicThe Role of US-Turkey Relations

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itly advocated the extension of minority rights for the Kurds but only called for ‘enhancing economic, social and cultural opportunities for all Turkish citizens, including those of Kurdish origin’ (Council of the EU 2008). The reason for the EU’s stepping back from the overall dynamics of the Kurdish question is twofold. Internally, whereas the EU has developed a sophisticated framework for the entrenchment of individual rights (through the Treaty of EU, the acquis communautaire, the Charter of Fundamental Rights, as well as the European Convention on Human Rights of the Council of Europe), it has been divided on group rights. This is not least because minority rights within member states vary widely and minority problems within the Union persist. In turn, within EU law, there is neither an attempt to define minority rights nor a concrete mechanism to ensure their protection (Hughes and Sasse 2003; de Witte 2002). Externally, the EU has been entirely absent from the regional dynamics of the Kurdish question, having studiously avoided both adopting policies towards the Kurdish question in Iraq, Iran, and Syria and their interactions with Turkey. In sharp contrast, the US is actively engaged in the regional dynamics of the Kurdish question, first and foremost in view of its role in Iraq since the early 1990s. With few notable exceptions—such as US assistance in capturing Öcalan in 1999—the US role in the 1990s and early 2000s ignited Turkish fear of Kurdish secessionism. The suspicion of American intentions at times generated acrimonious Turkish reactions to US (and EU) recommendations regarding the Kurdish question.34 Furthermore, the US has not been actively engaged in Turkey’s reform efforts regarding the Kurdish question, believing this matter would be tackled best in the context of Turkey’s EU-inspired political reforms. However, since the inception of Turkish-American cooperation in the fight against the PKK in 2006–7, Turkish insecurities have subsided, raising Turkish confidence in tackling its long-simmering Kurdish problem. Alongside this, the prospect and ensuing implementation of America’s withdrawal from Iraq has further heightened Turkish resolve to tackle its Kurdish question.35 It is in this context that Turkey’s 2009 ‘Kurdish Opening’ was launched and openly applauded by the US administration.36 Turning to the Eastern Mediterranean, the decades-old conflict in Cyprus and the Greek-Turkish disputes in the Aegean Sea have long represented an obstacle to Turkey’s European integration. During the first two decades of Greek membership of the EC/EU, Athens raised Cyprus and the Aegean as arguments to block EU-Turkey relations and mobilize anti-Turkey sentiment in Europe (Tocci 2004). Moreover, when the EU included Cyprus in its enlargement policy in the mid-1990s, the conflict crept into the dynam120

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ics of Turkey’s own accession process. Achieving a solution in Cyprus is not an explicit condition for Turkey’s EU membership. However, to the extent that, until 2004, Turkey was viewed as the primary obstacle to a Cyprus settlement, the opening of accession negotiations with Ankara between 1999 and 2005 was hampered. With the advent of the UN Annan Plan (and its acceptance by the Turkish Cypriots and rejection by the Greek Cypriots) and the entry of the Republic of Cyprus in the EU in 2004, EU-Turkey-GreeceCyprus dynamics have changed. On the one hand, Turkey is no longer seen as the chief culprit of the enduring Cyprus stalemate. Furthermore, Greece, at least since 1999, has U-turned its approach towards Turkey’s EU membership, becoming a key advocate of close ties between Ankara and Brussels. On the other hand, the accession of Cyprus has poisoned EU-Turkey relations by vetoing half a dozen chapters in Turkey’s accession negotiations. A further eight chapters have been frozen by the EU because of Turkey’s non-implementation of the Additional Protocol extending the EU-Turkey customs union agreement to Cyprus. In everything but name, a solution in Cyprus has become a condition for Turkey’s EU membership. While central to European affairs, with Greece and the Republic of Cyprus in the EU, Turkey in the accession process, and northern Cyprus de facto cut off from the Union, the EU has sidelined itself from being a credible third party on the island. The Union continues to represent an alluring framework to resolve the decades-old conflict (Emerson and Tocci 2002). Furthermore, the incentive of EU membership acted as a powerful incentive for Turkey and the Turkish Cypriots to mobilize in favor of the Annan Plan in 2004. Yet by accepting the prospect (and then the eventuality) of the membership of a divided Cyprus since 1999, the EU unwittingly generated disincentives for the Greek Cypriot side to compromise on the Annan Plan (Tocci 2004). Since the entry of Cyprus, the EU has been further handicapped in promoting a solution, having become part and parcel of the conflict itself. Unlike the EU, the US is engaged in the mediation of the Cyprus conflict and of Greek-Turkish disputes. ‘While Europe slept’, US Special Envoy Richard Holbrooke averted a Greek-Turkish war over the Aegean islets of Imia/Kardak in 1996. In Cyprus, the US has supported a bizonal and bicommunal federation negotiated under the aegis of the United Nations by supporting the efforts of the UN Secretariat and by addressing the question in the UN Security Council. American involvement in Cyprus was considerable between the mid-1990s and 2004. In 1996–97, Holbrooke pressed for a resumption of intercommunal talks in Troutbeck, New York and Glion, Switzerland. In 1998, he attempted to impress upon European governments The Role of US-Turkey Relations

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the imperative of according EU candidacy to Turkey in order to unblock the Cyprus impasse. Under the presidency of George W. Bush, whereas there was no high-ranking presidential envoy appointed to the 2002–4 mediation efforts, Special Cyprus Coordinator Thomas Weston was actively engaged, alongside British Special Envoy David Hannay and UN Special Representative Alvaro de Soto, in crafting the Annan Plan (Hannay 2004).37 As is well known, the Annan Plan failed, and particularly the Greek Cypriot south was rife with accusations of excessive ‘Anglo-American meddling’ (Trimikliniotis 2006). Because of this, the US has kept away from a proactive role in the resumed peace talks in 2008–2010. Yet to the extent that Washington did play an important role in the Annan Plan process, which represented a milestone in the search for a Cyprus solution, it indirectly assisted EU-Turkey relations. Finally, Turkish-Armenian problems also poison Turkey’s path to Europe. The EU has not made the opening of the Turkish-Armenian border and the normalization of bilateral relations a condition for Turkey’s EU membership. Notwithstanding, Armenia often features in EU criticisms of Turkey, implicitly hindering Turkey’s European integration. The EU calls for all accession candidates to resolve outstanding difficulties with their neighbors before acceding to the EU. The 2008 Accession Partnership document stated that Turkey should ‘unequivocally commit to good neighbourly relations; address any sources of friction with neighbours’ (Council of the EU 2008). Furthermore, the recognition of the Armenian genocide is a prime bone of contention between Turkey and several EU member states, including France, Italy, Greece, Belgium, and Sweden. The European Parliament has also recognized the Armenian genocide in resolutions in 1987, 2000, 2002, and 2005, complicating Turkey’s relations with EU institutions. Yet, as in the case of the Kurdish and Cyprus questions, the EU has limited means to encourage a rapprochement between Turkey and Armenia. As in Cyprus, the Union has enjoyed asymmetric relations with the parties, whereby Turkey is included in the accession process and Armenia is part of the far looser European Neighbourhood Policy and Eastern partnership. In turn, the Union cannot exert similar degrees of influence on both sides (Tocci, Gültekin-Punsmann, Simão, and Tavitian 2007). Furthermore, the EU as a whole is absent from the mediation forum for Nagorno Karabakh— the Minsk Group—in which European presence is secured only through France’s role as Co-Chair. In addition, the EU is singularly divided on its policy towards Russia, a critical variable in triggering a breakthrough on Nagorno Karabakh. 122

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The US is better placed to encourage a Turkish-Armenian rapprochement. In private and public diplomacy, Washington has constantly advocated a process of normalization between the two countries. At the civil society level, the US was instrumental in kick-starting a Turkish-Armenian dialogue through the Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation Commission (Phillips 2005). At the official level, President Obama was personally engaged in accelerating Turkish-Armenian reconciliation during his April 2009 visit to Turkey, adding to the momentum in favor of the Turkish-Armenian joint statement that month. Likewise, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was active in mediating the two protocols between Turkey and Armenia signed by the parties in October 2009.38 The US is also present in the Minsk Group, able to explore the linkages that may exist between Turkish-Armenian normalization and a solution in Karabakh. Finally, the US has had an implicit lever on Turkey regarding Armenia: the pending House vote on the recognition of the Armenian genocide. Whereas Presidents Clinton and G. W. Bush had spoken against recognition of the genocide, bending over backwards to prevent the resolution from passing on the Hill, presidential candidate Obama had openly spoken in favor of it. The implicit pressure this generated added to the momentum in favor of Turkish-Armenian reconciliation.39 Testimony to this is the Turkish (over)reaction to the resolution approved by the Congress Committee on Foreign Affairs reaffirming its recognition of the genocide in March 2010. As declared by Turkish Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu: ‘That is why we introduced the normalization of the relationship with Armenia. We thought that this would settle things [i.e., prevent Congress’ recognition of the genocide]’.40 Leveraging Congress’s recognition of the Armenian genocide is not an official US policy. Moreover, it is a rather blunt method to induce the complex, long, and tortuous process of Turkish-Armenian reconciliation. It is nonetheless undeniable that it has been a factor underpinning the normalization, which is conducive to Turkey’s EU integration. As praised by the Council of the EU (2009): ‘The Council thus welcomes the significant diplomatic efforts made to normalise relations with Armenia, resulting in the historic signature of protocols for the normalisation of relations in October 2009. It looks forward to the ratification and implementation of the protocols as soon as possible’. On all three matters—the Kurdish, Cyprus, and Armenian questions—neither is a solution imminent nor has the US exerted its full potential to realize definitive breakthroughs. At the time of writing, in 2011, the ‘Kurdish opening’, launched in 2009, is yet to see the light of day. The Turkey-Armenian protocols, signed in 2009, remain pending ratification. And the Cyprus peace proThe Role of US-Turkey Relations

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cess, re-launched in 2008, after the failure of the Annan Plan four years earlier, is yet to deliver a comprehensive agreement. The level of US engagement on all three counts is far from perfect. Regarding the Kurdish opening, Washington has not gone beyond general words of encouragement to the Turkish government. On the Cyprus peace process, the US administration has opted to take a back seat to the UN. On the Turkish-Armenian reconciliation, while heavily engaged in the process, the US has failed to explore and exert its influence regarding the linkages with the frozen Nagorno Karabakh peace process. These shortcomings notwithstanding, the US continues to offer far greater prospects than the EU to push these three dossiers towards resolution.

The Impact of American Discursive Power on Turkey A final channel through which the US influences Turkey, and consequently EU views of Turkey, is discursive power. As discussed in chapter 1, discursive power does not reside in an agent, but rather in the social interactions between a multitude of agents. In the case of the US and Turkey, chapter 2 explained how American stakeholders have disseminated a set of images of Turkey: Turkey as a barrier, a bridge, a model, and an independent actor. At times these views originated in Turkey and were endorsed by the US, while at other times the opposite was true. In both cases, these images were then articulated by Turkish actors in their dealings with European counterparts. The US has contributed to shaping Turkey’s self-representations in Europe and beyond. How have these images, produced in the social interactions between the US and Turkey and reproduced in Turkey’s engagement with the EU, been perceived by Europeans? As discussed above, at the inception of the Cold War, the US had been all but persuaded about Turkey’s potential as a barrier against Soviet expansionism. The view of Turkey as a barrier had rather been conceptualized in Turkey, as Turkish leaders were intent in seeking a legitimizing logic to their country’s NATO membership. By contrast, the image of Turkey as a bridge to and model for the East originated in Washington, as the end of the Cold War gave way to a new era of American global supremacy. The metaphor was readily adopted by Turks, eager to reconfirm their country’s geostrategic value to the West. Turkey, in turn, incessantly raised the bridge and model metaphors in its dealings with Europe. As discussed in chapter 4, however, by the turn of the century, Europeans had become less receptive to the geostrategic logic underpinning Turkey’s case for membership. Some, prioritizing the international level of debate, were persuaded by the argument, but 124

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the vast majority of those in political parties, the media. and civil society remained utterly unimpressed.41 The argument was even less convincing when raised by Turks rather than Americans. In between the lines of this geostrategic discourse was often the demand that Turkey be treated ‘differently’ from other EU candidates (Kardaş 2010). In other words, because of its strategic significance, the EU ought to be more lenient towards Turkey’s fulfilment of the Copenhagen criteria. A full exposé of this argument can be read in a book by a Turkish former Ambassador and politician in the Republican People’s Party (CHP) Onur Öymen (2000). As discussed in chapters 3 and 4, however, most European stakeholders are either genuinely committed to the criteria or aware that these represent the most politically correct reason to fend off Turkey. Geostrategic considerations were always unlikely to trump European concern for the Copenhagen criteria. Also, the view of Turkey’s ‘difference’ boomeranged back on Turkey, being appropriated by European opponents of Turkey’s EU cause. Precisely because of Turkey’s difference, they said, the conditions for Turkey’s membership ought to be stricter than for other candidate countries. Better still, Turkey’s difference justified its ‘privileged partnership’ with, rather than membership of, the EU.42 In view of these distortionary effects, when asked how the US could encourage Turkey’s accession process, a high-ranking EU official replied: ‘don’t allow Turkey to distract itself with its geostrategic importance at the expense of its reforms’.43 The US has also been at the helm of the discourse regarding Turkey’s straddling the boundaries of opposing civilizations (Huntington 1993, 42). Many Turks readily bought into their country’s ascribed role as ‘torn’ in the fight against the ‘clash of civilizations’. On the secularist side of the Turkish establishment, Bilgin (2004, 271) has argued that Turkey’s policymakers have ‘resorted to the discourse of civilizational geopolitics in an attempt to locate themselves in Europe as opposed to the Mediterranean’, drawing boundaries between ‘Turks’ and other ‘Islamic and/or ‘non-European’ peoples. In other words, they have emphasized their Europeanness by highlighting their membership of the West (e.g., through NATO, the Council of Europe, and the OSCE) and juxtaposing the West to the ‘Islamic’ East. Others on the liberal or Islamist side, by contrast, have invoked the ‘specter of Huntington’ in order to heighten Turkey’s significance in the post-9/11 world (Rumelili 2008, 104). Indeed, in February 2002, then Foreign Minister Ismail Cem convened a meeting in Istanbul of the ‘Dialogue of Civilizations’ between the Organization of the Islamic Conference and the EU. The ensuing AKP government eagerly accepted the invitation by José Antonio Zapatero to co-sponsor with Spain under the aegis of the UN an ‘Alliance of CiviThe Role of US-Turkey Relations

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lizations’ in September 2004, subscribed to by no fewer than 88 states and 17 international organizations (Cajal 2009). The AKP government and a myriad of Turkish academics, journalists, and civil society representatives used assiduously the argument of Turkey’s role in the Alliance of Civilizations to bolster its case for EU membership (Balci and Miş 2008). Hence, as argued by Prime Minister Erdoğan: ‘if the EU is not a Christian club, this has to be proven. What do you gain by adding 99% Muslim Turkey to the EU?  . . . You gain a bridge between the EU and the Islamic world . . . and this will start the Alliance of Civilizations’.44 In other words, Turkey’s EU membership would ‘help bridge the cultural divide between east and west’ (Erdoğan 2006, 30). The idea of Turkey as a country straddling East and West also fit within the broader foreign policy philosophy of the AKP, as articulated by Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu (2008, 78): Turkey is ‘both Asian and European. . . . It should be seen neither as a bridge country which only connects two points, nor as a frontier country’. As argued in chapter 4, some Europeans appreciated Turkey’s value as a ‘civilizational bridge’ reconciling Islam with Europe (Commission 2009, 17). Spain in particular, in the aftermath of the March 2004 Madrid bombings, championed the Alliance of Civilizations and pinpointed Turkey as the ideal partner in this endeavor, not least because of the symbolism of the AKP as the face of ‘moderate Islam’.45 However, the vast majority in Europe, including the Christian and nationalist right as well as the secular and liberal left, used this discourse to discredit Turkey’s EU aspirations (Hurd-Shakman 2006). Why would Turkey have been chosen as the partner of an EU member state in the Alliance of Civilizations if not as an implicit affirmation of its difference from the EU? As convincingly argued by Balci (2009), the Alliance of Civilizations and Turkey’s case for EU membership based on it is premised on the understanding that a real or potential clash between civilizations exists, feeding the fears of those who want to avoid, at any cost, importing the clash within the EU through Turkey’s accession.

Conclusions This chapter has shown how the US influences Turkey’s European future through its own relationship with Turkey. For diametrically opposite reasons, American material power on Turkey has had negative implications on EUTurkey relations. On the one hand, the strong US-Turkey strategic relationship and the conspicuous level of Turkish dependence on the US have fed the perception that Turkey would act as an American ‘Trojan horse’ in the 126

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EU. On the other hand, the bitter disagreements between Turkey and the US and the considerable degree of Turkish anti-Americanism have been interpreted by many Europeans as a signal of Turkish solidarity with the Muslim world rather than with Europe. Likewise, American discursive power on Turkey has also backfired in the EU. As Turkey appropriated and reproduced the images of a strategic and civilizational bridge between East and West, the majority of Europeans either shunned these arguments as unconvincing excuses to defy EU conditions or bought into them using them against Turkey’s EU membership. By contrast, American ideational power on Turkey, and more precisely its efforts to kick-start Turkey’s political reform process in the 1990s and, more importantly, to address the Kurdish, Cyprus, and Armenian questions in the 2000s, have had positive spinoff effects on Europe. To the extent that these three questions represent unspoken yet evident conditions for Turkey’s EU accession, Washington’s efforts to seek solutions to them are vital to Turkey’s EU course. Particularly in view of the EU’s own limitations on these matters, concerted engagement by the US has been crucial to Turkey’s deeper European integration.

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6 Global Implications American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

Another facet of indirect American influence on EU-Turkey relations pertains to US policy in Turkey’s neighborhood, its implications for Turkish foreign policy and how these shape European approaches to Turkey. In view of the broad scope of this text, this chapter concentrates on a confined set of US foreign policy initiatives in Turkey’s northern and southern neighborhoods since the early 1990s. In the Middle East, it addresses the implications of the first and second wars in Iraq and US democracy promotion policies. In Eastern Europe, it analyses the repercussions of the NATO interventions in Bosnia and Kosovo and the US’s energy diplomacy. Both independently and through their impact on Turkish foreign policy, US actions in these areas have indirectly shaped European views of Turkey. Taking the cue from chapters 4 and 5, this chapter begins by mapping American foreign policies in the above-mentioned areas, tracing the implications these have had for the evolution of Turkish foreign policy. As will be argued below, the US is only one of many drivers of Turkish foreign policy, whose principal determinants are, predictably, domestic. Turkey, in other words, is very much an agent in its own right in its neighborhood. Yet to the extent that American policy in Turkey’s neighborhood contributes to shaping Turkish policy and presence in the region, the US influences the broader context in which European debates about Turkey are conducted. The second part of the chapter addresses the European reactions to US policies in Turkey’s neighborhood, exploring the effects on Europe of American material, ideational, and discursive expressions of power in and around the region. 128

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Mapping the Evolution of US and Turkish Policies in the Neighborhood The 1990s began with two parallel shocks in Turkey’s neighborhood: to the north, disintegration and violence in the former Soviet space and Yugoslavia; to the south, the first Gulf War and the ensuing launch of the ArabIsraeli peace process. In both theaters, the US played a pivotal role, which had monumental implications for Turkish foreign policy. American policies in the Balkans, in the energy realm, in the Middle East, and in the field of democracy promotion have shaped considerably Turkey’s relations with its neighbors.

The United States, Turkey, and the Western Balkans As war raged in the Balkans in the early 1990s, the US first intervened to broker the Bosnian-Croat federation in March 1994.1 It then intervened militarily through NATO’s Operation Deliberative Force, targeting BosnianSerb forces and infrastructure following the massacres of Srebrenica and Markale in 1995. Thereafter, the Clinton administration stepped in to mediate the Dayton accords in December 1995, which gave birth to the union between the Bosnian-Croat federation and the Republika Srupska. After the war, the US remained active in the region through its financial assistance and its command of NATO’s Implementation Force (IFOR) (1995–96) and Stabilization Force (SFOR) (1996–2004), until the latter gave way to the European mission EUFOR in December 2004.2 Washington also took the lead in Kosovo, first by brokering the short-lived 1998 ceasefire and the 1999 Rambouillet accords,3 and then by mobilizing NATO against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY) in March–June 1999, despite the absence of a UN mandate. In the aftermath of the air strikes on the FRY, while playing second fiddle to the EU and its member states, the US has remained engaged in Kosovo through economic assistance and its presence in NATO’s Kosovo Force (KFOR). During these years, Washington actively sought and encouraged Turkey’s role in the Balkans, particularly in the military realm (Bağci and Kardaş 2004). Despite minor differences—regarding attitudes towards Bosnian Serbs—American and Turkish interests largely converged (Uzgel 2001). Moreover, for the US, Muslim Turkey’s participation in NATO initiatives in the Balkans was critical to reassure the Muslim Bosnian and Kosovar populations of Western intentions (Kirişci 2001b, 137). American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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At the political level, in the first half of the 1990s, the State Department and the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs coordinated efforts to broker a constitutional agreement in Bosnia. In 1993, Ankara facilitated the reconciliation between Bosnian Muslims and Croats, which culminated in the Washington Agreement in 1994. In 1996, President Süleyman Demirel met Bosnian leader Alija Izetbegovic and Croatian President Franjo Tudjman in order to ease the agony of the Bosnian-Croat federation within the nascent Dayton constitutional edifice. Thereafter Turkey strongly backed the Dayton accords. Within the Peace Implementation Council, tasked with overseeing the implementation of the Dayton agreement, Turkey became a permanent member of the Steering Board, representing the Organization of the Islamic Conference. More recently and particularly after the failure of the constitutional reform effort in Bosnia in 2006, Turkey has once again stepped into the Bosnian quagmire, attempting to mediate ties among Bosniacs, Croats, and Serbs within the faltering Dayton setup. In 2009–10, Turkish Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu held a series of parallel trilateral meetings with Bosnian and Serb, and Bosnian and Croat leaders. One of the most visible successes of these meetings was the Serbian parliament’s apology in March 2010 for the Srebrenica crimes in 1995. Turkey has also consistently supported NATO’s expansion to the Balkans. Turkey has also played an active role in the military domain in the Balkans.4 Eager to reconfirm its value to the West in the post–Cold War era (Oğuzlu and Güngör 2006), the Turkish army, while refraining from participating in the 1995 Operation Deliberate Force in Bosnia, contributed to the ensuing NATO missions IFOR and SFOR. Turkish troops were based in Sarajevo and Zenica, where Turkish reconstruction efforts were also substantial. Turkey engaged in training Bosnian officers in the context of the US-led train-and-equip program (Uzgel 2001). In the 1990s, Turkish forces also contributed a brigade when Albania plunged into internal turmoil and participated in NATO exercises on the Albanian-Serbian border, aimed at deterring Serbian forces from attacking IDPs from Kosovo (Kirişci 2001b, 137). In Kosovo itself, while maintaining a more low-profile status compared to that in Bosnia, the Turkish army participated in Operation Allied Force against Serbia and became a contributor to KFOR thereafter. Turkey’s Balkan policies have thus been largely in line with and supportive of the aims and policies of the US and NATO (Lesser 2000, 189–90).

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The United States, Turkey, and Energy Policy Another policy area in the former communist space which has occupied American decisionmakers considerably and in which Turkey has featured prominently is energy. As the 1990s progressed, the US became increasingly committed to the concept of Turkey as an energy hub, designating it as the most stable and politically preferable route for the export of Caspian energy to the West (Pamir 2009). Washington’s backing of Turkey had a strong geopolitical rationale: enabling the West to bypass Russia and Iran by relying on NATO ally Turkey, reducing Western dependence on Middle Eastern sources by focusing on the Caspian, and concomitantly loosening Moscow’s grip on its ‘near abroad’ by engaging the Caucasus and Central Asian republics. The US pinpointed Turkey as the crux of the East-West energy corridor also in order to compensate Ankara for the losses incurred by the interrupted Kirkuk-Ceyhan oil pipeline after the 1990–91 Gulf War and to heed to Turkish arguments regarding the environmental urgency of reducing oil transit through the congested Turkish Straits (Baran 2004). In this context, the Clinton administration, against all odds, used all its power of persuasion to see the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan (BTC) oil pipeline come to fruition. Until the late 1990s, there was significant resistance to the realization of the project (Kober 2000). A set of mutually reinforcing factors made the project unlikely: the downward trend in oil prices, uncertain oil supplies, the exorbitantly high costs of the project,5 and the preference of most oil companies either to use existing Russian networks or to build new ones through Iran. Notwithstanding, by 1995 the American administration began decisively backing the initiative (Baran 2004). The Clinton administration, particularly through Special Advisor to the President for Caspian Basin Energy Diplomacy Richard Morningstar, actively engaged the Azeri regime through private and public diplomacy, by offering defense cooperation, providing commercial incentives to boost investment in Azerbaijan, and pressing Congress to repeal Section 907 of the Freedom Support Act blocking assistance to Azerbaijan (Joseph 1999).6 The Clinton administration also lured Baku by engaging in the mediation of the Nagorno Karabakh conflict, stepping in as Co-Chair in the OSCE Minsk Group in 1997 alongside France and Russia. American efforts began reaping their first fruits when US Secretary of Energy Bill Richardson oversaw an agreement among Azerbaijan, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Turkey, and Uzbekistan in October 1998. Finally, at the November 1999 OSCE summit in Istanbul, President Bill Clinton witnessed

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the signing ceremony of the BTC deal, declaring it his most important foreign policy success in 1999 (Baran 2004, 107). The completion of BTC in 2006 and parallel pipelines7 constructed along the ‘East-West corridor’ affirmed in practice Turkey’s role as an energy bridge in the new century. It also provided the stimulus for successive projects in which Turkey has featured prominently, foremost of which is the Nabucco gas pipeline, intended to bring 30 bcm from the Caspian to Europe per year. However, both from an American and from a Turkish perspective, there are important differences between BTC in the 1990s and Nabucco in the 2000s. For the US, BTC represented a strategic priority in its energy policy aimed at enhancing the independence of Central Asia and the Caucasus from Russia. Nabucco instead is viewed as one of several strategic projects aimed at the diversification of energy routes to Europe. As a project lying at the heart of Europe’s own energy security, Washington believes that the EU, rather than the US, should take the lead.8 Likewise for Turkey, whereas BTC had been an unrivaled strategic priority in the 1990s, in the 2000s Ankara has adopted a multifaceted energy policy, driven not only by its foreign policy vision but above all by its domestic consumption demand. Ankara adhered to the Nabucco project in July 2009. Yet it has also pursued a strengthened energy policy towards Russia. Turkey and Russia signed the Blue Stream pipeline project in 1997 and have discussed the prospects of a Blue Stream II project to ship Russian gas to the Middle East. A few weeks after Turkey’s signing of the Nabucco agreement in 2009, Ankara also signed on to Russia’s South Stream Project, intended to transport Russian gas to Bulgaria and the rest of the EU, bypassing Ukraine. In addition, Turkey has also hinted at the possibility of eventually filling the Nabucco pipeline with Iranian gas, alongside Azeri and Turkmen sources, a prospect that is heavily resisted by Washington. Hence, in contrast to the 1990s, in the 2000s Turkey, while still pivotal to Washington’s energy strategies, has become a more independent actor in the energy realm.

The United States, Turkey, and the Middle East Turning south, the 1990s began with the August 1990 Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, which triggered a UN-mandated and US-led military intervention to expel Iraqi forces from Kuwait. Turkey’s participation in the Gulf War and cooperation with the ensuing US policy towards the region provided Ankara with the opportunity to reconfirm its strategic value to the West in the post– Cold War era (Barkey 2003). Yet while reconfirming its strategic value to the 132

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West, the Gulf war also gave way to Turkey’s assertiveness in the Middle East (Makovsky 1999). In view of the aggravation of the PKK insurgency in Turkey after the emergence of a de facto autonomous Northern Iraq, the first Gulf War opened the way to regular Turkish military incursions to destroy PKK bases in Iraq (Lundgren 2007; Malka 2009). Some, such as the one in March 1995, lasted weeks and included no fewer than 40,000 Turkish troops. The US refrained from criticizing Turkey’s anti-PKK incursions as a tacit quid pro quo for Turkey’s reluctant acceptance of Northern Iraq’s de facto autonomy (and its six monthly renewal votes on the US/UK use of the Incirlik base to monitor the no-fly zones in Iraq). This dynamic, unleashed by the Gulf War and its aftermath, was noteworthy in view of Turkey’s traditional detachment from Middle Eastern affairs. As put by Larrabee and Lesser (2001, 137), ‘[t]he frequency of Turkish cross-border operations [in Iraq] since 1994 tends to obscure the fact that this kind of intervention would have been almost unthinkable in the pre-Gulf war tradition of Turkish foreign policy toward the region’. The Gulf War and its implications not only induced Turkey to intervene militarily in Iraq; it also aggravated relations with two other neighbors: Syria and Iran. Secularist Turkey’s relations with Iran had been strained since the 1979 Islamic revolution. Yet Iran’s implicit tolerance of the PKK after the Gulf War exacerbated tensions with Turkey in the 1990s (Aras 2001). This went as far as Turkish war threats in the mid-1990s and air raids against PKK camps in Iran in 1994 and 1999 (Larrabee and Lesser 2001, 148). The post–Gulf War evolution of the Kurdish question also aggravated Turkish-Syrian relations, already strained over Syria’s historical grievances regarding the Turkish province of Hatay9 and the long-standing dispute over the Euphrates River10 (Altunışık and Tür 2006). Between the late 1980s and 1998, Turkey consistently argued that Syria was the PKK’s major backer, notoriously harboring PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan. Ankara also accused Damascus of using the PKK in order to leverage the ‘water controversy’ over the Euphrates (Güner 2008). Turkey and Syria repeatedly sought consensus over the PKK-water nexus but to no avail (Sezgin 2002).11 The situation deteriorated in the mid-1990s, with a Turkish memorandum calling for an immediate halt of Syrian support for the PKK and Syrian accusations of Turkish involvement in an assassination attempt against President Hafez alAssad in 1996. Verbal accusations escalated in 1998, including war threats by Turkish Prime Minister Mesut Yılmaz, President Süleyman Demirel, and Commander of the Armed Forces Hüseyin Kıvrıkoğlu. The climax came in October 1998, when Turkey mobilized 10,000 troops on the border with American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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Syria, forcing Damascus to change its strategy on the PKK. This led to the expulsion of Öcalan from Syria, the closing down of PKK camps in Syria, and the end of Syrian logistical support to the PKK.12 Following the near war, Turkey and Syria signed the Adana Agreement on October 20, 1998, establishing direct telephone links, appointing special representatives to each other’s country, and establishing bilateral security mechanisms. The deterioration of Turkish-Syrian relations in the 1990s triggered Turkey’s alliance with Syria’s foe Israel (Bengio 2010; Bengio and Özcan 2001; Yavuz 1997). From a Turkish perspective, an alliance with Israel both rallied favor in Washington and mounted pressure on Damascus, which could not afford a hostile border on two fronts. Hence, between 1993 and 1996, Turkey and Israel signed a framework agreement comprising tourism, economic cooperation, and educational exchanges, an agreement on environmental cooperation and a free trade agreement. Most significantly, in February 1996 the two signed a Military Training and Cooperation Agreement, which outlined a range of joint training and intelligence-sharing activities. This was followed by further agreements on military technology transfers, joint military research, regular strategic dialogue, and military exercises. Whereas Turkish antagonism towards Syria provided the Turkish rationale for the alliance with Israel, the launch of the US-led Arab-Israeli peace process through the 1991 Madrid conference and the 1993 Declaration of Principles made the alliance politically feasible in Turkey (Kirişci 2001b, 101). The Turkish public traditionally had been sensitive to the Palestinian question, rendering a military alignment with Israel a hard sell domestically (Bali Aykan 1993). The peace process and the climate of hope it brought to the Middle East facilitated the Turkish-Israeli alliance. In the context of the peace process, Turkey in fact participated in the Arms Control and Regional Security Working Group of the Madrid multilateral process and in 1993 guided a workshop on military exchanges. In 1997, Turkey joined the Temporary International Presence in Hebron.13 Other peace-related efforts in the 1990s included Turkey’s economic assistance to the nascent Palestinian Authority and the Occupied Territories (Kirişci 2001b, 101), as well as President Özal’s (somewhat far-fetched) project for a ‘peace pipeline’ to transport Turkish water to Syria, Israel, and Jordan, which dated from the mid-1980s and was resurrected in the optimism of the Oslo years. The importance of the Arab-Israeli peace process as the bedrock on which the Turkish-Israeli relationship flourished has become increasingly evident since its collapse in the twenty-first century.14 Turkish-Israeli relations have suffered since the eruption of the second intifada in 2000. Particularly since 134

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2009 relations have been hampered by Turkish accusations of Israel’s conduct in the Israeli-Arab conflict15 and Israeli rhetorical retaliation (Öktem 2009).16 The crisis worsened in May 2010, escalating for the first time into a bilateral problem, when the Israel Defense Forces killed eight Turkish citizens and one Turkish-American on board a Turkish vessel, part of an international flotilla, carrying humanitarian goods to Gaza in defiance of Israel’s closure of the Strip. The Turkish-Israeli relationship seems to have undergone a structural turn in the new century.17 This does not mean that Turkish-Israeli relations will necessarily be bad, let alone that the manifold ties between Turkey and Israel at the political/diplomatic, economic, and movement of people levels will be broken (International Crisis Group 2010, 16). With the magic of the Oslo years over and Turkey’s relationship with Syria and the rest of the Arab world no longer marked by the tensions of the past, it does mean that the Turkish-Israeli relationship is unlikely to have the military-strategic flavor of the 1990s. In the twenty-first century, however, the development that shaped most dramatically Turkey’s role in the Middle East was the US-led war in Iraq in 2003 and its failure to achieve the goals it had set out for itself (Barkey 2010). Simply put, whereas the first Gulf War reconfirmed Turkey’s strategic value to the West but also opened the way for Turkish assertiveness in the Middle East, the second created a vacuum of influence in the region and ushered a new era of Turkish cooperation with its southern neighbors, at times in line with US policies, at times not. As discussed in chapter 5, the 1990–91 war had created far more problems than originally anticipated by Ankara. In turn, Turkish appetite for war in the twenty-first century was close to zero. Hence, in the run-up to the 2003 US invasion of Iraq, Turkey not only opposed the war, but also felt compelled to engage its neighbors in order to prevent it and deter neoconservative ambitions to redraw the Middle East in a manner that, in Turkish eyes, would bring confessional violence, separatism, and extremism. Hence, there occurred the birth of the Conference of Iraq’s Neighbors in January 200318 and Turkey’s efforts to foster regional integration between itself, Iraq, Iran, and Syria thereafter.19 More specifically, the 2003 US-led war transformed the Kurdish issue and concerns over Iraq’s territorial integrity into a cause for unity between Iraq’s neighbors. The war definitively overturned Syria’s and Iran’s20 position on the PKK, transforming the Kurdish question into an area of convergent interests between Turkey, Iran, and Syria. In the 2000s, Turkey and Iran have cooperated in the security realm (Larrabee 2007b, 113). Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan visited Iran in 2004 to sign an agreement branding the PKK as a American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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terrorist organization, and the two countries stepped up efforts to protect their common border against the PKK and its affiliates through intelligencesharing and joint operations. Improving Turkish-Iranian ties explains Turkey’s position regarding the Iranian nuclear question. Turkey does not feel as threatened as its partners in the West by Iran’s nuclear program (Transatlantic Trends 2010, 43). But Turkey is concerned about a nuclear arms race, let alone nuclear attacks, in its neighborhood. Hence, Turkey’s calls for a nuclear-free region and its objections to sanctioning Iran, which would hinder burgeoning relations with its neighbor without bringing a nuclearfree Middle East any closer.21 In the case of Syria, whereas bilateral ties had steadily improved since the 1998 Adana agreement and Turkish President Sezer’s attendance of Syrian President Hafez al-Assad’s funeral in 2000, joint concerns over Iraq’s territorial integrity alongside Turkey’s defiance of US efforts to isolate Syria in 2003–522 fostered further bilateral relations. These culminated in the establishment of a Strategic Cooperation Council in October 2009.23 Albeit later, the US-Iraqi-Turkish cooperation in the fight against the PKK since 2007 alongside the US’s military withdrawal from Iraq in a context of ongoing instability also ushered the way to a burgeoning relationship between Turkey and Iraq, and in particular the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG) (Barkey 2010). With the elimination of the PKK as a serious military threat and Turkey’s growing acknowledgment that its Kurdish problem could not be solved by military force alone, the continued stability offered by the KRG has become a major opportunity for Turkey. Since 2007–8, Turkey has come to accept Iraqi Kurdish autonomy, has opened official ties with the KRG, and has deepened its social, political, and economic influence in Iraq.24 Bilateral trade reached $5 billion in 2008, with Turkey predicting a rise to $25 billion over the next 3–4 years, and as much as 80 percent of FDI in the region comes from Turkey (Malka 2009, 39; see also Kirişci 2009). The creation of a High-Level Strategic Cooperation Council in 2009 between Turkey and Iraq is a further indicator of just how far these two former enemies have come in recent years. The 2003 war in Iraq not only opened the way for Turkey’s improved relations with its Middle Eastern neighbors. It also generated a collapse of American reputation and a dramatic reduction of US time and attention devoted to peacemaking, creating a vacuum of mediation in the region. Turkey stepped in, attempting to fill such a vacuum. The most important case involves Turkey’s mediation between Israel and Syria.25 The Turkish initiative dates back to January 2004 in the context of Syrian President Bashar 136

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al-Assad’s visit to Turkey. At the time, Israel rejected the offer of an official re-start of negotiations leading to the launch of a track-two process instead. By September 2004, the initiative developed into a more structured process, which lasted until July 2006. The 2006 Lebanon war (and Israel’s ensuing awareness of Hizballah’s capabilities and its own relative vulnerability) raised Israel’s perceived need to move forward on the Syrian track, triggering Prime Minister Ehud Olmert’s call for his Turkish counterpart’s mediation in September 2006 at track-one level. The process was delayed by Israel’s bombing of Syria’s military installation near Dayr al Zur in September 2007 (incidentally flying through Turkish airspace) and official preparations took place between March 2007 and May 2008. Between May 2008 and December 2008, four rounds of official indirect talks via Turkish shuttle diplomacy took place. According to both sides, greater progress was achieved than originally expected. The parties had entered the process for different reasons. For President Assad, a prime aim was that of breaking Syria’s international isolation and showing the West that it was a serious partner for peace. For Prime Minister Olmert the aim was to negotiate with Syria in order to weaken the Iranian-Syria-Hizballah link. Neither side expected a breakthrough. Yet more was achieved than ever before.26 The climax came at a dinner between the Turkish Prime Minister and his Israeli counterpart on December 23, 2008, in which the launch of direct talks appeared to be in the offing. Five days later, Israel launched Operation Cast Lead on Gaza and the process broke down. In another case, Turkey has mediated between Israel and Hamas. In view of Turkey’s open political channels to Hamas (and in particular its political bureau in Damascus), Ankara has offered to mediate on two occasions. The first was in the aftermath of Hamas’ capture of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in June 2006. Then advisor to the Turkish Prime Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu travelled to Damascus several times to broker a deal, attempting to persuade Hamas to release Shalit in return for the release of a disputed group of Palestinian prisoners held by Israel. Following the failure to yield a breakthrough, the potential of Turkey’s efforts was recognized by UN Human Rights Rapporteur in the Occupied Territories Richard Falk, who argued that ‘[i]t is tragic that this effort failed, and was at the time criticized. In retrospect, both the wellbeing of the Gazan civilian population and the security of Israel would have greatly benefited by taking advantage of the Turkish initiative’.27 The second instance of Turkish mediation was during Operation Cast Lead in December 2008–January 2009. Given the absence of official contact with Hamas, neither the US nor the EU could exert any influence on Hamas in order to secure a ceasefire on its side.28 Egypt played a crucial role, yet the American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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well-known difficulties between Hamas and the Mubarak regime in Egypt also opened a space for Turkey. Davutoğlu readily used it by holding two meetings with Hamas leader Khaled Meshal and shuttling between Damascus and Cairo in order to persuade Hamas to agree to a ceasefire in return for an Israeli ceasefire and the lifting of Israel’s closure of Gaza. The effort failed as Israel refused to lift its closure of Gaza without a release of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit. Hence, whereas the 1990–91 Gulf War triggered a renewed emphasis on Turkish-American strategic cooperation, it also ushered the way to Turkish assertiveness in the Middle East. In contrast, the 2003 war in Iraq unleashed a different set of dynamics between Turkey and its southern neighbors. Turkey has improved significantly its relations with Syria, Iran, and Iraq, and this improvement has been accompanied by a liberalization of trade and movement of people. In June 2010, Turkey signed an agreement with Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan to establish a trade and visa-free zone. With the withdrawal of US troops from Iraq in August 2010, the integrity of the country can only be guaranteed through close cooperation between Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and Syria. While reporting few concrete results, Turkey has also stepped in as a mediator in the Middle East, a role unthinkable in any other period of its modern history. In other words, the 2003 war opened the way for Turkey’s increased cooperation with and attempted reconciliation among its Middle Eastern neighbors, though Turkish policies particularly with respect to Syria, Israel, Palestine, and Iran have at times diverged from those of the United States.

The United States, Turkey, and Democracy Promotion Democracy promotion is a final area in which American foreign policy in Turkey’s neighborhood has had significant implications for Turkey. Under the Reagan administration in the early 1980s, the US first formulated a ‘democracy promotion policy’. Since then, each and every US administration has included democracy promotion as an element of foreign policy. The relevance of this foreign policy objective has waxed and waned over the years. It rose to the forefront in the 1990s and again in the early 2000s. Riding the wave of liberal optimism in the early post–Cold War period, the Clinton administration developed and engaged in democracy promotion policies. In Eastern Europe, it backed the EU’s efforts in the context of enlargement, while in Asia it supported transitions to democracy in countries such as South Korea and Taiwan (McFaul 2002). Particularly in Eurasia, the US heralded Turkey as a model of democracy for the Muslim world. In 138

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the 1990s, Turkey indeed found itself at the crossroads of two major zones of instability: ‘The first stretching from the Arctic Circle down through Eastern Europe, the Balkans and the Middle East and the second along the southern shore of the Mediterranean’ (Mortimer 1992, 13). Against this geopolitical backdrop, there were many who saw Turkey’s secularism, emerging liberal market economy, and fledgling democracy as constituting a model for the democratic transformation of Central Asia. The Economist in 1991 referred to Turkey as the ‘Star of Islam’.29 During the second half of the 1990s, the Clinton administration applied the argument especially with regard to Azerbaijan and the Turkic-speaking Central Asian republics (Hale 2000, 287–94). Turkey, it was claimed, could act as a model for these countries in order to encourage their transition to democracy and free market economies. By doing so, NATO ally Turkey would also lure these energy-rich Caspian states away from Moscow’s sphere of influence. While initially shunning Clinton’s ‘nation-building’ policies, following the attacks on September 11, 2001, President George W. Bush rehashed the democracy promotion agenda during his ‘freedom agenda’ speech at the National Endowment for Democracy in November 2003 (Bush 2003). Far from being framed through the liberal discourse of the 1990s, democracy promotion became part and parcel of security policies in the post-9/11 world. At the declaratory level, the Bush administration forcefully committed itself to the promotion of democracy in the Muslim world as an antidote to violence and extremism. Through the spread of democracy, the US would eradicate the ‘root causes’ of terrorism. More specifically, in view of the 2003 war in Iraq (and the absence of alleged weapons of mass destruction in the country), democracy promotion became a legitimizing vehicle for US policies in Iraq and what became labeled the ‘Broader Middle East’, stretching from Pakistan to Morocco (Bush 2003). Within this policy construction, Turkey occupied a special place, as a shining model of a Muslim, secular, and (imperfectly) democratic Republic. As stated by Bush (2004) in Istanbul: ‘Turkey as a strong, secular democracy, a majority Muslim society, and a close ally of free nations . . . stands as a model to others’. Likewise Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz (2002) argued: ‘Turkey is crucial in bridging the dangerous gap between the West and the Muslim world. In the United States we understand that Turkey is a model for those in the Muslim world who have aspirations for democratic progress and prosperity’. Particularly in his first term, President Bush in fact engaged Turkey in a set of initiatives, including the Broader Middle East and North Africa Initiative, NATO’s Istanbul Cooperative Initiative, and the G8 Partnership for Progress and Common American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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Future with the Region of the Broader Middle East and North Africa, in which Turkey supported the Democracy Assistance Dialogue (Akçapar et al. 2004). Not all actors in Turkey were comfortable with their country’s designated role as a model. Whereas the AKP government largely played along with Washington’s rhetoric, the secularist segments in Turkey viewed it as the US’s siding with the AKP, as a deliberate undermining of Turkey’s secular character, and as a demeaning association with the ‘backward’ Muslim world. In other words, the US’s designation of Turkey as a model for the East ‘has been music to the ears of the AKP but an insult to the Kemalist secularists’ (Taşpınar 2007, 119). Furthermore, as and when the Bush administration became associated, not with democracy promotion, but with illegitimate war, CIA-operated rendition flights, and gross human rights abuses in Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib, Turkey increasingly felt uncomfortable with its inclusion in the US’s foreign policy design. Notwithstanding, the discourse regarding Turkey as a model or, more modestly, as a source of inspiration, did trickle down in Turkey and its surrounding regions (Altunışık 2005). As discussed by Kirişci (2010), this has led to democracy promotion-like activities by Turkish officials and civil society actors. Turkey’s improving relations with its southern neighbors has already spilled into the field of governance, whereby countries such as Iraq and Syria have explored the possible application of Turkey’s regulations in the banking and educational sectors in their countries (Kirişci 2010). Turkey’s liberal visa regime (towards the former Soviet space since the early 1990s and the Middle East in the 2000s) has attracted tens of thousands of foreign students to Turkey (Kirişci, Tocci, and Walker 2010). The Turkish media is voraciously watched throughout the Middle East (Al Sharif and Saha 2009). The Turkish development agency TIKA, channeling assistance to no fewer than 98 countries, includes projects on issues such as ‘good governance’, ‘transparency’, and ‘rule of law’ (Kirişci 2010). At the political level, aided by the fact that Turkey’s own experiment with democracy is a ‘work in progress’ (Kirişci 2010), high-ranking personalities have given passionate and well-received speeches on democracy in the Muslim world, including the speech by former Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül at the Organization of Islamic Conference in May 2003. The implications of Turkey’s implicit role in the field of democracy promotion have been recognized in the region. A 2009 survey by the Turkish NGO TESEV revealed that 61 percent of respondents in Arab countries considered Turkey to be a model for the Arab world (Akgün at al. 2009, 21–22). In view of the Arab uprisings in 2011, the idea of the Turkish model has aquired renewed salience and has been discussed in Turkey (Ülgen 2011), the EU (Grant 2011, Tocci and Cassarino 2011), and the Middle East alike. 140

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Exploring European Reactions to American and Turkish Foreign Policies in the Neighborhood Whether in geographical areas such as the Balkans and the Middle East or sectoral domains such as energy and democracy, the US has both shaped developments in Turkey’s neighborhood and been an important determinant of Turkish foreign policy. The US represents an important force influencing the overall regional structure in which Turkey operates. Naturally, it would be a mistake to view the US as the sole, or even the primary, determinant of Turkish foreign policy. The latter is principally shaped by developments within Turkey itself, some of which are influenced by the US, some not. Turkey, in other words, is also an agent in its own right. As put by Prime Minister Erdoğan’s advisor Ibrahim Kalın in December 2009, in the post– Cold War era, Turkey’s foreign policy has been driven by both ‘necessity and choice’;30 it is shaped by the structural shifts in the neighborhood and by Turkey’s agency in the region. More specifically, during and in the immediate aftermath of the Cold War, Turkish foreign policy had been the exclusive domain of the military and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. As Turkey has entered the twenty-first century, not only these institutions have transformed but others have acquired a growing role in foreign policymaking. These include state bodies such as the ministries of energy, environment, interior, and transportation, the undersecretariat for foreign trade and the development agency TIKA, as well as civil society groups such as businesses associations, which constantly lobby the government on foreign policy questions. Turkish foreign policy towards countries such as Russia, Iran, Iraq, and Syria can only be understood by taking into account the interests of this broader set of domestic actors in the foreign policy realm (Kirişci 2009). In addition, Turkish democratization has made the government more accountable to public opinion, explaining in part the harsh criticism of Turkish leaders towards countries such as Israel or the opposition to the 2003 war in Iraq (Kirişci, Tocci, and Walker 2010). Lastly, the AKP government has developed its own, distinctive, foreign policy ‘ideology’, characterized by the concepts of ‘zero problems’ with neighbors and ‘strategic depth’, elaborated by Minister of Foreign Affairs Ahmet Davutoğlu. ‘Strategic depth’ seeks to reposition Turkey from the periphery of international relations to the center, as an actor sitting at the intersection of multiple regions such as the Balkans, the Middle East, Central Asia, the Caucasus, and the Eastern Mediterranean (Aras 2009; Davutoğlu 2008; Walker 2007). It does so by courting different alliances, by taking on a larger role American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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in former Ottoman territories, and by prioritizing dialogue and cooperation over coercion and confrontation. The doctrine of strategic depth has provided a normative chapeau to the plethora of state and non-state interests which have pushed Turkey into deeper ties with its neighbors. It conceptualizes a foreign policy trend which has been in the making since the end of the Cold War under the leadership of former Turkish Prime Minister and President Turgut Özal in the late 1980s (Altunışık 2009). The upshot of this transformation in Turkish foreign policy is an increased eagerness both to engage the neighborhood and to pursue an independent foreign policy and diverge from the US when the latter’s policies are perceived as countering Turkish interests. Turkey’s policies in the energy realm and in the Middle East are testimony to this fact. Unlike during the Cold War and in its immediate aftermath, when Turkish generals and diplomats could be counted on to support unconditionally the West, Turkey today responds to a diverse set of impulses which push for a greater and more independent engagement with all its surrounding regions. How do Europeans respond to these developments in Turkey’s neighborhood and in Turkish foreign policy, which have been partly inspired by the US? What are the implications for European perceptions of Turkey and its place in Europe? In what follows we assess the European reactions to American material power in the Western Balkans and the Middle East; ideational power in the energy domain; and discursive power in democracy promotion. In all cases, American power has fundamentally shaped Turkey’s neighborhood, inducing a transformation of Turkey’s role in its region. These changes have affected European views of Turkey and its place in the EU. Figure 6.1 depicts graphically the argument explored below.

American Material Power, Turkish Foreign Policy, and European Reactions The US has exercised material power in Turkey’s neighborhood through its military interventions in the Balkans and in the Gulf. Interestingly, these generated almost diametrically opposite reactions in Europe regarding the prospects of Turkey’s EU membership. In the Western Balkans, the EU worked in unison with the US. In Bosnia, the Union’s passivity and inability to act cohesively in order to put an end to bloodshed on its doorstep became a prime mobilizing force underpinning the CSDP. In view of its failure in the 1990s, the Balkans became the quintessential litmus test for the effectiveness of EU foreign policy (Interna142

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Figure 6.1. Mapping the Impact of American Power on Turkey’s Neighborhood

tional Commission on the Balkans 2005). In the words of then Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn: ‘Too often in the 1990s, Brussels fiddled while the Balkans burned. We must not risk this happening again’.31 The EU’s self-critique in Bosnia in the 1990s entailed a parallel appreciation of Washington’s lead. In Kosovo, despite the lack of UN legitimization, with the exception of a few member states (e.g., Greece), most deemed the war in which they participated as a morally sanctioned humanitarian intervention to restore stability and open the way to EU-led transition and reconciliation efforts in the region. The US-led military interventions in the Balkans were viewed in most European quarters as welcome and necessary steps to restore stability, paving the way to peacebuilding in this war-torn neigborhood of Europe. Seen from this perspective, Turkey’s efforts in the Balkans have been appreciated as an important contribution to the stabilization of the European continent. They have lent credibility to the arguments of European stakeholders within foreign ministries and governments, large businesses, and think tanks which highlight the assets that Turkey’s security and defense capabilities would bring to bear on the fledging CSDP.32 Particularly in the debates on European defense in the second half of the 1990s, the idea dawned on European policymakers that Turkey, with its second largest military force within NATO, could contribute to a realization of the EU’s defense ambitions, targeted first to the Western Balkans.33 While not necessarily leading to a consolidation of support for Turkey’s full membership in the EU, Turkey’s role in the Balkans did enhance the imperative of seeking ways of cooperating with and integrating Turkey in the context of the CFSP and CSDP (Emerson and Tocci 2004). US policy in the Balkans, which eventually gave way to EU policies in the region, also provided a new lease on life to European enlargement. Given that Turkey had been excluded from the fifth enlargement to Central and Eastern American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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Europe, it found its place of belonging in the ongoing accession process that included both the ‘laggards’ from the east (Romania and Bulgaria) and the newcomers from the Western Balkans (Macedonia and Croatia, eventually to be followed by Albania, Bosnia, Kosovo, Montenegro, and Serbia). Many in Ankara resent being grouped together with (and at times overtaken by) the Balkans. Yet often forgotten is the fact that the end of war in the Balkans and the ensuing deepening of EU relations with the region gave new impetus to the enlargement process in the new century. Concretely, it provided a renewed mandate to the European Commission’s Directorate for Enlargement, whose vested interest is that of promoting enlargement, including to Turkey, in accordance with membership standards and conditionalities. In sharp contrast, the wars in the Gulf and most poignantly the 2003 war in Iraq and the US’s failure to achieve its declared goals were largely perceived in Europe as the trigger for destabilization on Europe’s borders. Those member state executives that approved of and participated in the 2003 war (e.g., Tony Blair’s UK and José Maria Aznar’s Spain) initially accepted and reproduced the narrative that war was the only recipe to eliminate a threat (i.e. weapons of mass destruction) and kick-start democracy in Iraq and the broader region. Yet most member state governments either accepted the war as a sign of deference to the US (e.g., several East European member states) or adamantly rejected it as an unwarranted destabilization of the Middle East with dangerous spillover effects on Europe: the accentuated tension between European states and their Muslim communities (e.g., France and Germany). The latter view was also shared by the vast majority of the European public and civil society, which mobilized massively through street demonstrations in the winter of 2002–2003 against the war. Moreover, whether for or against the war, the ensuing realities—the tens of thousands of civilian casualties, the re-sectarianization of Iraq, the years-long insurgency, the kidnappings of Western civilians—were perceived as destabilizing Europe’s southeastern frontiers. Instability on what would become the EU’s southeastern border through Turkey’s accession had two principal implications for European views of Turkey’s EU membership. The destabilization of Iraq influenced the debate on the EU’s borders to Turkey’s net disadvantage. The European debate on borders was sparked by the eastern enlargement, the queuing up of a host of aspirant countries farther east, and the ensuing debate over the European Neighbourhood Policy (Wallace 2003). In the final stages of the eastern enlargement, former Commission President Romano Prodi (2002) called for the definition of the EU’s external borders so as to avoid ‘water(ing) down the European political project’. He was echoed by German Chancellor Angela 144

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Merkel (2006) who declared that ‘an entity that does not have borders cannot act coherently and with adequate structures. We must be aware of this and must therefore set out these borders’. Likewise, the European Parliament (2006) called upon EU institutions to debate the values on which the EU is founded, including a definition of its borders. Above all, as discussed in chapters 3 and 4, French President Nicolas Sarkozy has repeatedly argued in favor of the definition of Europe’s ‘final’ frontiers. In this context, instability in Iraq swayed many to believe that the EU’s borders should lie along the Meriç/Maritsa river between Greece and Turkey rather than at the Habur crossing between Turkey and Iraq: Turkey is best excluded from the EU. Some disagreed. The Independent Commission on Turkey (2009, 26) argued that ‘there is nothing fundamentally un-European about the prospect of having the EU’s eastern edge in eastern Turkey, where the frontier of the Roman Empire lay, and neither is it destabilizing’. Others, particularly in elite foreign policy circles, claimed that precisely because of instability in the Middle East, Turkey’s membership is all the more important. As in the case of the Balkans, instability in the Middle East and its spillover effects in Europe mean that EU passivity and insularity is no longer an option. Given that the EU has to engage in the Middle East in order to put an end to chaos and bloodshed on its doorstep, it would be far better equipped to do so by including Turkey into its fold.34 To many others, instead, instability in Iraq validated the claim that the EU should avoid at all costs extending its frontiers to the turbulent East. As discussed in chapter 4, the war in Iraq persuaded many in Europe that Turkey, with its mighty army, should act as a friendly cordon sanitaire for the Union: ‘the Iraqi imbroglio will force the Europeans to question the wisdom of extending the continent’s border to the Middle East. As such it will reinforce those who argue that Turkey remain a buffer state of sorts between the Middle East and Europe while enjoying a privileged relationship with Europe’ (Barkey and Le Gloannec 2005, 138). Hence, as argued by Barkey (2008, 199): ‘it is therefore ironic that after arguing for decades that Turkey is a European country, the US through its Iraq invasion has in one bold stroke managed to push Turkey back into the Middle East in the eyes of many Europeans’. The war consolidated the image of Turkey as a useful buffer in the Middle East rather than a fellow member of Europe, ‘a troubling frame for Turks keenly focused on reinforcing their country’s role in Europe in a post-Cold war world’ (Lesser 2007, 21). Turkey’s own reactions to the war in Iraq also affected European perceptions of Ankara’s membership aspirations (Barkey 2008). In the immediate aftermath of the war, Turkey’s military incursions into Northern Iraq fed American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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the perception in Europe of a militaristic and human rights-violating Turkey, unfit to enter the EU. It bolstered the skepticism of those within leftwing political parties, trade unions, and civil society organizations sensitive to Turkey’s human rights record. The disapproval of Turkish intervention in Iraq was also made abundantly clear by the European Commission. Anticipating Turkey’s concerns about Iraq’s territorial integrity, then Commissioner for Enlargement Verheugen repeatedly warned in 2003 that Turkish intervention in Northern Iraq could compromise Turkey’s reform efforts and thus delay the launch of Turkey’s accession negotiations.35 In reaction to the building Turkish momentum in favor of a large-scale ground operation in Northern Iraq, the European Parliament (2007) ‘appeal[ed] to Turkey to refrain from engaging in any disproportionate military operations violating Iraq´s territory’. Yet as discussed above, the 2003 war in Iraq also opened the way to Turkey’s increasing cooperation with its southern neighbors and induced Ankara to tackle its domestic Kurdish question. In other words, the war in Iraq meant that ‘Turkey could no longer put the Kurdish genie back into its bottle’ (Barkey 2008, 206). Turkey’s improving relationship with the KRG in Northern Iraq has been openly appreciated by the European Commission (2009, 30). More broadly, Turkey’s cooperation with its southern neighbors reflects both the EU’s own vision embodied in the European Neighbourhood Policy (Aydın Düzgit and Tocci 2009) and the norms of a ‘Europeanized’ Turkish foreign policy (Aydın and Açıkmeşe 2007; Özcan 2008).36 The same can be said of Turkey’s newfound propensity to engage in mediation. EU actors, particularly those in official and civil society circles with an eye for foreign policy, have appreciated Turkey’s efforts in mediation.37 In the midst of Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, for example, French President Nicolas Sarkozy, a notable opponent of Turkey’s EU bid, expressly invited Turkey’s involvement.38 Following the end of the Israeli offensive in January 2009, Turkey’s efforts were openly praised by France and the EU.39 Even on the Iranian nuclear dossier—on which Turkey, the EU (and the US) have not always seen eye to eye—UK Prime Minister David Cameron deemed Turkey the European country ‘with the greatest chance of persuading Iran’ (International Crisis Group 2010, 14). At EU level, Turkey’s mediation efforts have been appreciated by the Council of Ministers (2009) and by the European Commission (2009). More broadly, at an informal meeting in September 2010, EU Foreign Ministers, recognizing Turkey’s increasing clout in the neighborhood, proposed to their Turkish counterpart to establish an EU-Turkey ‘strategic dialogue’ on foreign policy matters, a proposal that has aquired broad support since then (Grabbe and Ülgen 2011). 146

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However, European appreciation of Turkey’s foreign policy activism in the Middle East has not entailed a clear-cut increase in support for Turkey’s EU membership. For many, such as French President Sarkozy, Turkey’s efforts to promote peace in the Middle East are praiseworthy but do not constitute a reason to back Turkey’s EU membership. Muslim countries may be inclined to listen to Ankara more than Brussels in view of the cultural, historical, and religious bonds tying Turkey to the Middle East. Yet this proves that Turkey can be a useful ally rather than a member of the EU.40 Others have watched with caution Turkey’s propensity to act in a manner that diverges from the EU consensus.41 Particularly on the center-right of the political spectrum, many Europeans have been critical of Turkey’s policies in the Middle East, echoing voices across the Atlantic discussed in chapter 2. The ‘Who lost Turkey?’ debate in the US has in fact caught on in several European quarters particularly by 2009–2010. German Christian Democrat Wolfgang Schäuble dubbed Turkey’s overtures to the Middle East as ‘suspicious’.42 Several observers in France, Germany, the Netherlands, and the UK have been openly skeptical of Turkey’s criticisms of Israel, its warmth towards Iran,43 and its rejection of UN Security Council sanctions on Iran in June 2010 on the grounds of a Turkish-Brazilian mediated deal with Tehran.44 Echoing voices across the Atlantic, others, such as Italian Minister of Foreign Affairs Franco Frattini, argued that the EU’s cold shoulder to Ankara has encouraged Turkey to turn to the East.45 Within academia, EU institutions, and the center-left within several member states, while assessments of Turkish foreign policy are decidedly more supportive, some have questioned the implications for Turkey’s readiness to comply with EU positions in foreign policy matters. Heinz Kramer posed a rhetorical question (2010, 31): ‘how much supranationalism is compatible with the idea of Turkey as represented by the concept of “strategic depth”?’ The contrast between Turkey’s visa policy and the EU’s Schengen system is a case in point. In late 2009 and early 2010, Turkey signed five visa-free agreements with Libya, Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco, and Syria. This has been noted with concern by EU and member state officials, politicians, and journalists, whose approach to the movement of people in the post-9/11 world has become increasingly restrictive and securitized (Guiraudon and Lahav 2006).46 Whether openly articulated or silently suspected, the belief is that Europe may be ‘losing’ Turkey and Turkey’s EU vocation (Barysch 2010; Kramer 2009, 4), as Turkey becomes increasingly ‘Islamic’ and abandons the Kemalist tenet of ‘Westernization’.47 In an ironic twist, however, the growing conAmerican Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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cern of ‘losing’ Turkey in 2009–2010 has spurred some European leaders to recast their attention to Turkey’s ailing accession process,48 although not necessarily committing to it fully.49 The concern of ‘losing Turkey’ has not been openly discussed in official EU meetings, but it has been sufficiently ‘in the air’ to implicitly affect European attitudes towards Ankara and the accession process.50 Indeed, by the summer of 2010, Turkey’s overtures towards the Middle East had triggered a renewed sense of urgency in debates on Turkey within the EU Foreign Affairs Council.51 The 1990–91 and 2003 wars generated a vacuum in the Middle East. On the one hand, this led to a hyper-destabilization of the region, which interlocked with internal European debates over the EU’s final frontiers to Turkey’s disadvantage. On the other hand, Turkey felt compelled to fill the vacuum, first in military terms, as the war fanned the flames of an anti-American brand of Turkey’s ‘Sèvres syndrome’, then in more constructive economic, social, and political terms. Paradoxically in many respects, both Turkey’s military policies as well as its more open economic, social, and diplomatic approaches towards its southern neighbors have failed to date to strengthen decisively pro-Turkey voices in the EU.

American Ideational Power, Turkish Foreign Policy, and European Reactions Turning to American ideational power in Turkey’s neighborhood, let us consider the European reactions to US diplomacy in the energy realm. In the case of energy, Washington was critical in launching and substantiating the debate regarding Turkey as an energy hub through its committed support for BTC in the 1990s. While initially lukewarm to the idea, the European appreciation of Turkey as an energy bridge increased over the 2000s, rendering energy an important albeit not decisive factor in favor of Turkey’s EU membership. When the Clinton administration began unreservedly backing the BTC project in the 1990s through public and private diplomacy and its concerted charm offensive on Baku, many European stakeholders were thoroughly unconvinced. Left-leaning and liberal political parties, journalists, and civil society representatives viewed the US strategy as playing into the ‘Great Game’ dynamics of Eurasia, whereas most member state governments, intent in developing closer ties to Boris Yeltsin’s regime, did not perceive the urgency of developing pipeline routes to bypass Russia. Energy companies were also skeptical. Until its volte face in 1999, British Petroleum (BP), the 148

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principal stakeholder in the Azerbaijan International Oil Consortium, was outspokenly resistant to BTC. In the 2000s the European energy debate has visibly altered. Energy companies were ultimately persuaded about the benefits of BTC. In view of the May 1999 discovery of the Azeri Shah Deniz field and the ensuing OSCE Istanbul summit in November 1999, BP U-turned its position by leading the formation of the BTC consortium. Alongside BP as its major shareholder, the BTC consortium has featured other European companies such as Agip and TotalFinaElf. Moreover, the European political debate on energy (and gas in particular) has transformed, placing new emphasis on Turkey as an energy bridge. The entry of the central and eastern European members and their resentment towards Moscow, the assertiveness of Vladimir Putin’s resurging Russia, and the Russian-Ukrainian gas crisis between 2005 and 2010 all upped the European stakes in energy diversification.52 The member states that suffered the most from the Russia-Ukraine crisis such as Austria, Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Slovenia felt acutely the need for energy diversification. At EU level, energy was prioritized in fact, particularly under the Slovenian presidency in the first half of 2008. In turn, Turkey backers in the EU have raised energy as a key factor in favor of Turkey’s EU accession (Roberts 2004). In a joint article in 2007, Massimo D’Alema and Carl Bildt, then foreign ministers of Italy and Sweden respectively, described Turkey as a ‘key actor in the realm of energy security’.53 As discussed in chapter 3, energy is a prime motivating force underpinning support for Turkey’s accession in countries such as Poland, Romania, Slovenia, Hungary, and the Czech Republic. At EU level, the European Commission is not only the strongest backer of Nabucco,54 but has also raised energy as an argument in favor of Turkey’s EU membership. In its 2004 Progress Report on Turkey, the Commission (2004, 117) stated that ‘Turkey will play a pivotal role in diversifying resources and routes for oil and gas transit from neighbouring countries to the EU’. Commission President José Manuel Barroso argued that energy is ‘one of the cases where we can show to the European Union public opinion how important Turkey is for the EU . . . Turkey should not be seen as a burden, but as an asset’.55 The European Parliament (2007) also explicitly encouraged ‘Turkey to [ . . . ] further strengthen energy cooperation between the EU and Turkey, with a view to reinforcing the energy supply security’ and underlined ‘the importance of Turkey as a transit hub for the diversification of gas supplies to the EU’. Likewise, the Council of Ministers publicly appreciated Turkey’s signing of the Nabucco IntergovernAmerican Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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mental Agreement in July 2009 and prioritized the timely completion of the Southern/East-West corridor (Council 2009, 11). This said, for those countries which neither perceive as high a need to diversify energy supplies from Russia (e.g., Germany or Italy) nor frame their debates on Turkey in terms of energy (e.g., Austria and Bulgaria), Turkey’s energy assets neither underpin support nor reverse opposition to its EU membership (Kardaş 2011). On the contrary, despite the Commission’s recommendation to open accession negotiations on the energy chapter with Turkey, Cyprus has been able to block the opening on the grounds of its dispute with Turkey over oil exploration rights. In addition, arguments regarding Turkey’s significance for the accomplishment of European energy security are at times viewed as Turkish (and American) attempts to bypass EU criteria by leveraging Turkey’s strategic assets (see chapter 5). Finally, not least in view of Europe’s dithering and inability to forge a common energy policy, Turkey itself in the 2000s has been pursuing a diversified energy strategy by developing energy ties with Russia. This raises eyebrows particularly in Eastern Europe, but on a whole it has not generated a backlash across the EU.56 In fact, Turkey’s energy policies mirror those of other EU member states and are dictated by questions that neither Turkey nor the US and the EU can ignore. As far as Russia and the South Stream project are concerned, Turkey is not an outlier among European states, and its policies resemble those of member state Italy. As for Iran and Turkey’s readiness to fill the Nabucco pipeline with Iranian gas, Turkey and indeed all other EU and US supporters of the project are left with the very real question of how to fill the planned pipeline, particularly in view of Russia’s resurgence in Eurasia and the growing inclination of Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan to orient themselves towards Moscow.

American Discursive Power, Turkish Foreign Policy, and European Reactions Particularly in the post-9/11 global context, American policymakers, analysts, journalists, and intellectuals have described Turkey as a ‘model’ for the Muslim world insofar as it represents an example of a Muslim country with a functioning (albeit imperfect) democratic system. The articulation of Turkey as a model and the US (and Turkish) policies this has given rise to are formulated and pursued within a broader discursive framework which dawned with the end of the Cold War and consolidated after the attacks of 9/11: the designation of Islam(ism) as a threat to Western values, interests, and ways of life, and the associated notion of an ineluctable ‘clash of civilizations’. 150

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As with all forms of discursive power, it would be grossly simplistic to view the articulation and diffusion of this mental frame of understanding the world as originating exclusively in the US. As discussed throughout this book, civilizational notions are prominent not only in America, but also in the EU and Turkey. They are also alive and well in the broader neighborhood, first and foremost in the Middle East. Yet in view of its status in the international system, its leadership of the ‘West’, and its conceptualization of the ‘War on Terror’, the US occupies a special place at the heart of the civilizational discourse. Through media disseminating negative stereotypes of Muslims, Orientalist academia providing scientific legitimization for policy,57 and political action transforming theory into self-fulfilling prophecies, the US is at the helm of conscious and unconscious efforts to transform the ‘clash of civilizations’ into a successful political myth with monumental ramifications on international relations (Challand and Bottici 2010). The search for a new enemy in the US following the collapse of the Iron Curtain arguably represented the most decisive factor underpinning the American conception and dissemination of a ‘clash of civilizations’ (Halliday 2003, 109; Esposito 1999). As argued by Challand and Bottici (2010), prior to the late 1980s, Islam was rarely viewed as a threat in the US, but was rather perceived as having compatible values with the Christian West, as opposed to communism’s aesthetic materialism and hostility to all religious values. With the end of the Cold War, Islam was catapulted into the category of the ‘other’ and started being discussed in America and the rest of the West in a manner not dissimilar to the Cold War debates about communism and the best ways to ‘contain’ it. Striking in this respect is how American academia and political analysis have described and explained Muslim presence in Europe. Whereas there is no shortage of Europeans articulating such views, Vaisse (2010) notes the tendency in American books to disseminate the view of Europe threatened from within by Muslim immigration, not unlike the way it had been threatened from within by communist parties and movements during the Cold War. This civilizational discourse has given rise to a wide variety of actions, including coercive efforts at regime change, hyper-securitized homeland security policies, and human rights abuses in Guantanamo Bay. It has also given rise to ‘softer’ initiatives, including revamped democracy promotion policies in the Muslim world, aimed at eradicating the root causes of terrorism. It is in this latter set of policies that the notion of ‘Turkey as a model’ fits. Yet underpinning both hard and soft policies is the same premise: the notion of the ‘West’ confronting ‘Islam’ in order to ‘win’ in the inevitable ‘clash of American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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civilizations’. Both the West and Islam are conceptualized as being engaged in a perennial struggle: unidimensional agents defined exclusively according to religion (Sen 2006). Turkey belongs to the camp of the ‘other’—hence the readiness with which American critics of Turkish foreign policy under the AKP have pointed to the Islamization of the country. Bernard Lewis, for example, claimed that Turkey might soon ‘resemble the Islamic Republic of Iran’.58 Thomas Friedman opined that ‘Turkey’s Islamist government is seemingly focused not on joining the European Union but the Arab League’.59 For those that were and remain positive about Turkey, the premise instead is that Turkey, despite its ‘otherness’, continues to represent an ally with the added value of being a democracy. As such, it can usefully assist the Christian West to pursue its soft democratization policies within the paradigm of the clash of civilizations. Proving the power of discursive power, Turkey, despite being transferred from the Western ‘self ’ to the Muslim ‘other’, bought into the bargain. As discussed in chapter 5, the AKP has readily referred to Turkey as a model for the Muslim world and enthusiastically jumped on the bandwagon of the ‘Alliance of Civilizations’ becoming one of its principal sponsors. In the words of Prime Minister Erdoğan (2004): ‘The Turkish experience does have a substance which can serve as a source of inspiration for other Muslim societies’. Likewise, many in the Middle East also accept the civilizational discourse. In an interview in September 2009, Syrian President Bashar al Assad declared: ‘we were always trying to define ourselves and understand who we are by looking at the West. . . . Many people in Turkey and Syria may have an interest in the Western lifestyle. But despite all this, I see myself as a person of this land. This is a cultural viewpoint, and the political view should be compatible with this’.60 More broadly, several Syrian journalists and analysts accept rhetorically the notion of Turkey as a political and economic model, both inspiring Syrian economic development and providing ideas to reconcile secularism with the undeniably growing role of religion in politics.61 Europe, of course, does not simply react to but also participates in the articulation and diffusion of a civilizational prism of viewing the world. It is a discourse that sits easily with traditional European Orientalism exacerbated by the securitization of (Muslim) immigration in the twenty-first century. The ensuing appropriation of this discourse in Europe arguably has had the most potent and negative impact of Turkey’s prospects for EU accession. Interestingly, when Turkey applied for association to the EC at the height of the Cold War in the late 1950s, religion and Islam had not been raised once as an argument in favor of or against Turkey’s Association Agreement. In none 152

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of the EC’s public or confidential documents or speeches at the time was one word ever mentioned of Turkey’s cultural or confessional background (Challand 2009). In view of the cultural-political distinction posited between the Christian self and the Muslim other in the twenty-first century, Europe’s self-perception as ‘Judeo-Christian’ gave rise to a set of European debates about Turkey’s ‘Muslim’ character (Jung and Raudvere 2008). As discussed in chapter 3, this understanding of the European identity informed a variety of viewpoints, including the opposing twin ideas that Turkey should be accepted because it is Muslim and that it should be rejected because it is Muslim. The latter view is far more common and permeates European debates about borders, institutions, and reforms in relation to Turkey. Hence, Turkey should be rejected because its borders lie within the Muslim Middle East, because its cultural-religious distinctiveness would disrupt the EU’s institutional cohesion, because its Muslim (read backward) character means that it is incapable of fulfilling EU criteria. Muslim Turkey could and should thus be an inspirational model for the Muslim East. By definition, however, it is incapable of meeting the EU’s ‘standards of civilization’ (Jung 2007). Hence, Turkey’s reform efforts are praised, but also readily criticized as being insufficient. When reform efforts falter or backtrack, an ‘I told you so’ leitmotif permeates European attitudes. Turkey, in other words, is viewed as ‘bon pour l’Orient’, but not for the EU. Or, as put by French President Nicolas Sarkozy: ‘Turkey is a great civilization; but it’s not a European one’.62

Conclusions When addressing the effects of American power in Turkey’s neighborhood, the picture changes considerably from north to south. To Turkey’s north, American and Turkish policies in the context of NATO were largely interpreted as a welcome effort to stabilize and pacify Europe. Likewise, US diplomacy in support of Turkey as an energy bridge bolstered the notion of Turkey as a key asset in Europe’s energy security. While unable to sway Turkey-skeptics in Europe, policies in both the security and energy fields in the former communist space provided strong arguments in favor of Turkey’s EU membership to Turkey-backers in Europe. These arguments were viewed as especially important by European foreign policy communities, businesses, and member state executives in Central and Eastern Europe. To Turkey’s south, US and Turkish policies in the Middle East have generally hampered Turkey’s path to the EU. The destabilization of Iraq interlocked American Foreign Policy in Turkey’s Neighborhood

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with European debates on the EU’s borders to Turkey’s net disadvantage. Turkey’s increasingly active role in the Middle East, including its steadily improving ties with its southern neighbors and its mediation efforts among Israel, Syria, and Hamas, have generally failed to transform opponents into supporters of Turkey’s EU bid in Europe. They have also fed the notion of Turkey as a useful Middle Eastern ally rather than as a fellow member of the EU: Turkey as a ‘privileged outsider’ rather than as a ‘natural insider’ in Europe. Even more starkly, the conceptualization of Turkey as a model for the Muslim world and the broader discursive framework of the clash of civilizations in which it is embedded have represented the single most important impediment to Turkey’s EU membership. European reactions to developments in Turkey’s northern and southern neighborhoods differ not only because of ‘objective’ differences in American and Turkish policies in these two sets of regions. Perhaps even more importantly, European perceptions regarding Europe and Turkey, discussed in chapter 3, also condition European reactions. Exemplifying the effect of these perceptions is the fact that in the early post–Cold War period, Turkey’s openness to the former Soviet space in terms of trade and movement of people had not set off alarm bells in Europe. On the contrary, it had been appreciated as part of the broader Western effort to induce the political, social, and economic transformation of the former communist bloc. In sharp contrast, Turkey’s openness to the Middle East in the twenty-first century has sent shock waves throughout Europe and the West, being interpreted by many as the distressing proof of Muslim Turkey’s ineluctable slide to the East. The revival of a culturalist narrative worldwide coupled with the securitization of debates over identity in Europe go far in explaining the almost diametrically opposite effects of developments in Turkey’s northern and southern neighborhoods on the country’s EU future.

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7 Conclusion Unpacking the Triangle

This book is the result of an inquiry inspired by a paradox. On the one hand, actors on both sides of the Atlantic recognize that the US does and can only have a limited influence on Turkey’s relations with the European Union. On the other hand, Turkey is an integral part of the transatlantic relationship, and has been conspicuously present in transatlantic debates on a broad range of questions for many years. Rarely does a transatlantic meeting on strategic issues go by without Turkey and its neighborhood featuring somehow in the discussion. But if Turkey is so prominent in the transatlantic relationship, how could the US have only a marginal influence on the evolution of EU-Turkey relations? This book posits that if we broaden our understanding of how America influences Turkey’s path to Europe, we can begin to understand how and why the impact of the US is far more significant than first meets the eye. This is not to say that an almighty Washington can or has been the puppet master, pulling the strings behind the scenes in the protracted act between Turkey and Europe. Far from it. It is rather to say that the influence of the US is broad and pervasive, but that it is not always positive, nor always intentional, nor always immediately observable. As detailed in chapter 1, by widening our understanding of American influence to include different levels at which the US can have an impact—directly on the EU and indirectly through Turkey and through the neighborhood, and different forms of power—material, ideational, and discursive, this book explains the multiple channels through which the US shapes Turkey’s European integration. Through the lens of American influence on EU-Turkey relations, this book unpacks the multiple threads tying the US, Turkey, and the EU together. By way of conclusion, this chapter brings together and elaborates the principal findings of the book. Drawing from chapters 2 and 3, it begins by highlighting the areas of fit and misfit in transatlantic debates on Turkey and |

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in the corresponding stakeholders who invoke and articulate these debates. It then teases out the principal arguments advanced in chapters 4–6 in order to answer the core question at the heart of this study: how has the United States influenced Turkey’s relations with the European Union? Predictably, the answer is not neat and clear-cut. American impact on EU-Turkey relations is multifaceted, varying across time, audience, and issue area. Nonetheless, a general pattern emerges. This pattern serves as the basis on which this book concludes by putting forth several general policy suggestions. If the US is indeed committed to promoting Turkey’s integration into the EU, how could it pursue its goal more effectively?

Fit and Misfit in Transatlantic Debates on Turkey As discussed at the outset of this book, while Turkey is of significant importance to both America and Europe, transatlantic views of and approaches to Turkey overlap only in part. Differences in history, geography, political organization, and policy frameworks explain why the ‘fit’ across the Atlantic as far as Turkey is concerned is imperfect. A threefold categorization helps us understand the areas of fit and misfit in transatlantic debates on Turkey and thus in the actors at the helm of these debates (see figure 7.1). By doing so we can address the first corollary question posed in chapter 1: who does the US speak to in the EU regarding Turkey? By highlighting the topics of shared transatlantic concern (albeit not necessarily of transatlantic agreement), we can discern which stakeholders ‘speak to each other’ and which do not in US-EU debates on Turkey. First, there is complete overlap in debates which focus on the geostrategic dimensions of Turkey’s relationship with the EU. Here, Europeans and Americans share the same concerns and priorities, although this does not always and automatically entail perfect transatlantic agreement on these issues. Chapter 3 highlighted three such European debates: those focusing on the impact of Turkey’s accession on the EU’s role in the global economy, on Europe’s energy security, and on European foreign policy. The European stakeholders typically engaged in such debates include EU institutions, member state executives, ministries of foreign affairs and some political parties, foreign affairs think tanks, and large businesses. Whether the focus is on the global economy, on energy, or on foreign policy, all these debates relate to international strategic questions. Chapter 2 explained how geostrategy is also the dominant lens through which Americans look at Turkey. Whether Turkey is conceived as a buffer, a bridge, a model, or an independent actor, it is 156

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EU

US

Turkey as a civilizational bridge Turkey as a model

NO OVERLAP

Kurds, Armenia, Cyprus

Geostrategy: Global economy, energy, foreign policy

PARTIAL OVERLAP

OVERLAP

Domestic reforms

PARTIAL OVERLAP

Borders and identity, institutions and budget, public opinion

NO OVERLAP

Figure 7.1. Fit and Misfit in Transatlantic Debates on Turkey

viewed through a quintessentially strategic optic by state and non-state actors alike, ranging from the Department of State, the Department of Defense, and Congress, to think tanks, journalists, and lobby groups. Hence, when Americans and Europeans talk about Turkey, they tend to do so on strategic turf. Geostrategy is the shared discursive framework in which transatlantic debates on Turkey take place. On this strategic turf, Europeans and Americans often agree when debating Turkey. As discussed in chapter 3, Turkey’s most ardent supporters in Europe articulate their case precisely by highlighting the strategic benefits of Turkey’s EU membership, aiding the Union to face emerging powers in the global economy, ensure its energy independence, and confront the challenges emanating from its turbulent neighborhood. However, it would be grossly mistaken to argue that the overlap in the strategic debate on Turkey entails perfect harmony and agreement across the Atlantic as far as Turkey’s EU membership is concerned. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 explained when and why this is not the case. As discussed in chapter 4, European advocates of a ‘priviUnpacking the Triangle

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leged partnership’ with Turkey argue that precisely because of its strategic significance, Turkey should be kept out of but closely associated with the EU. Chapter 5 explained how Turkey’s strategic relationship with the US is not always a cause of Turco-enthusiasm in Europe, and how Turkey’s self-representation as a strategic asset is often viewed as a dubious attempt by Ankara to circumvent EU criteria. As noted in chapter 6, many would argue that Turkey’s geostrategic advantages in the realms of energy and foreign policy are indeed important, but that they are insufficient to justify Turkey’s membership in the EU. Second, we find the area of partial overlap in transatlantic debates on Turkey. Here Americans and Europeans partially share the same concerns and priorities, while, again, not necessarily always agreeing among themselves. The area of partial overlap comprises essentially issues of Turkish reform. Here we include both debates regarding Turkish domestic constitutional, legislative, and administrative reform, as well as policy reform on Turkish national security questions. Given that EU-Turkey relations and US-Turkey relations are conducted through very different policy frameworks— the accession process and foreign policy respectively—debates on Turkish reform do not perfectly overlap. From a US perspective, the main issues of concern regard the broad contours of Turkey’s democracy and, above all, the evolution of national security questions such as Cyprus, Armenia, and the Kurds. The latter set of questions has significant repercussions on peace and stability in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Caucasus, and the Middle East respectively. In particular, the Department of State, Congress, think tanks, and lobby groups pay special attention to the evolution of these issues. As argued in chapter 4, American stakeholders have highlighted the EU’s primacy and responsibility regarding the general state of Turkish democracy and economy. The US simply does not have the necessary incentives to offer Turkey in order to affect the fine details of Turkish domestic reform. By contrast, on Turkey’s national security questions, chapter 5 discussed how the US does have significant leverage and has used it to actively step in to influence Turkish policy. In the EU, the logic of the accession process suggests that attention to Turkish reform is both more detailed and more comprehensive. The European Union, and the European Commission in particular, is not only concerned with the general shape and direction of Turkish democracy. The stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, human rights, the rule of law, and minority rights, as well as good neighborly relations, is the political bedrock of the accession process: the Copenhagen political criteria. The 158

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Commission thus constantly monitors Turkey’s performance and specifies in detail what these criteria entail for Turkey. Beyond the Copenhagen criteria, however, the EU is also concerned with a broader set of Turkish reform questions. Given the nature of the accession process and the 35 chapters of the accession negotiations, EU institutions follow closely Turkey’s constitutional, legislative, and administrative reforms as well as their implementation in a vast array of issues, such as competition, environment, taxation, education, and regional policy. Testimony to the breadth and depth of EU attention to Turkish reform is the fact that the approximate length of the Commission’s annual progress reports on Turkey is 80–100 pages. Furthermore, as discussed in chapter 3, political parties, think tanks, and NGOs across the EU watch carefully Turkey’s reforms on human rights and democracy, and in particular on the freedom of expression, women’s rights, the rights of Kurdish citizens, as well as on civil-military relations. Particularly for left and liberal parties, Turkey’s compliance with EU reform priorities represents the single most important determinant of their support or opposition to Turkey’s EU membership. In addition, churches have particular regard for the rights of non-Muslim minorities in Turkey. Diasporas, and in particular the Armenian Diaspora in France, is concerned above all with Turkey’s recognition of the Armenian genocide and Turkish-Armenian reconciliation. Trade unions and professional associations follow the protection of Turkish social and economic rights. And Greece and the Republic of Cyprus focus predominantly on Turkey’s policy towards the conflicts in Cyprus and the Aegean. Interestingly, whereas the fit in transatlantic debates on these issues is only partial, there is greater scope for agreement across the Atlantic than on strategic questions. On some questions, positions do not fully converge. When it comes to the Cyprus conflict for example, views in Nicosia and in Washington regarding Turkish policy do not coincide. Yet there is not a perfect harmony of views on this subject within the EU itself. Most European stakeholders across member state institutions, political parties, civil society, and the media believe the responsibility for the status quo lies as much in southern Cyprus as it does in the north and in Turkey. The same can be said of the Armenian question. The Armenian Diaspora in Europe (as well as the US) does not concur with the US administration’s policy on TurkishArmenian reconciliation, but the Diaspora’s position is not shared by many other actors in Europe. Furthermore, Europeans and Americans do not necessarily agree on the implications of Turkey’s reform progress for Turkey’s EU accession. Americans almost unanimously argue that steps forward in reform make Turkey a credible candidate for EU membership and that only Unpacking the Triangle

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the accession process can guarantee that further progress is made. By contrast, Turco-skeptics in Europe place greater emphasis on Turkey’s pending domestic shortcomings, highlighting these as reasons to hold back on Turkey’s European integration. On a whole, however, particularly since the 1990s, the US and the EU have tended to see eye-to-eye on Turkish reform. Their emphasis may differ and so may the implications drawn for EU-Turkey relations. Yet there is broad consensus on the desirable way ahead for Turkey’s reform process and on the importance of the accession process in spurring it along. Finally, there is no overlap in some transatlantic debates on Turkey. As discussed in chapter 3, many member state executives, political parties, and civil society actors, media actors, churches, and migrant communities debate Turkey in strictly internal European terms. They focus on issues such as Turkey’s impact on EU institutions, borders, identity, budget, public opinion, and migration. Given the strictly internal nature of these debates, it is unsurprising that Americans are largely silent on them. In fact, it would be rather awkward if the US were to actively speak out on these intra-European issues. But this does not mean that these European debates are entirely disconnected from those across the Atlantic. Whether in the context of its direct interaction with the EU or of its indirect influence through Turkey and through the neighborhood, for example, the US has discussed Turkey in geocivilizational terms. At times it has lamented Turkey’s slide to the East, while at other times it has presented Turkey as a model for the Muslim world and as a recipe for the EU to counter the looming global clash of civilizations. As discussed in chapters 4–6, these views are articulated in similar terms by some European stakeholders, particularly within EU institutions, foreign ministries, and think tanks. They too argue that Turkey’s EU membership would represent a powerful antidote against the clash of civilizations. Far more frequently, however, European stakeholders use a culturalist frame of reference to debate internal EU matters related to Turkey’s accession, typically doing so to rest their case against Turkey’s membership. Some refer to culture and religion openly, arguing that by admitting Turkey into the EU, the Union would import a civilizational clash, transforming the already arduous task of European integration into mission impossible (Goulard 2004b). Most refer only indirectly to the civilizational discourses. As discussed in chapter 3, underpinning many European discussions about Turkey are perceptions and misperceptions about Turkey. When scratching beneath the surface, a civilizational frame of mind delineates the contours of a disparate set of European debates about Turkey. This frame is evidently pres160

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ent when Europeans talk about immigration, borders, and identity (Goulard 2004a). Here Turkey’s Eastern/Muslim otherness is pitched against the EU’s Western/Christian self, fundamentally altering the nature of the latter if Turkey were to be admitted to the EU. Yet a civilizational understanding is also, albeit less obviously, present in European debates about institutions, budget, public opinion, and Turkish reform. Were it not for Turkey’s perceived difference, interpreted at least partly through the prism of culture and religion (coupled with Turkey’s size), Europeans would not be as troubled as they are by the idea of a prominent Turkish voice within EU institutions, about the redistribution of EU funds towards Turkey, about the widespread opposition of European public opinion against Turkey’s accession, and about the details of religious freedoms in Turkey. If the perception of culture, religion, and ‘civilization’ were not at stake, these European debates would still exist, but they would not be marked by the level of angst that characterizes them nowadays (Hurd-Shakman 2006). In other words, many European stakeholders within institutions, parties, media, churches, and civil society, who have articulated their positions on Turkey by focusing on a variety of intraEU issues, may not directly ‘speak to’ their American counterparts, insofar as their priorities and concerns are not geopolitical and geostrategic in nature. Yet to the extent that Americans discuss Turkey’s place in Europe in geocivilizational terms, they have indirectly influenced these intra-European debates.

American Influence on EU-Turkey Relations Turing now to the core question of this book—US influence on EU-Turkey relations—let us tie together the principal strands of analysis and argument herein. The multifaceted nature of European stakeholders and debates on Turkey inevitably means that American influence is not clear-cut. It is neither always present/absent nor always positive/negative. Rather, it rather varies across time and space. Notwithstanding, the broad story that emerges from chapters 4, 5, and 6 goes as follows. Chapter 4 tackles the second corollary question posed in chapter 1: how has the US directly influenced its European counterparts regarding Turkey’s European integration? With the end of the Cold War, the US was pivotal in kick-starting Turkey’s accession process. The idea was first conceived in Washington in the narrow context of the 1990–91 Gulf War as a means to reward Turkey for its participation in the war despite widespread public opposition in the country. In fact, only three years earlier Turgut Özal had Unpacking the Triangle

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applied for EC membership, but had been turned down by the European Commission. In such a context, supporting Turkey’s European vocation became an obvious and cost-free means for the US to satisfy its erstwhile ally. As the 1990s progressed, however, Washington’s position evolved from tactic to strategy. Supporting Turkey’s European integration and the Turkish reforms that came with it became the best guarantee of Turkey’s membership in the Western community in the post–Cold War era, and thus the best means to ensure Turkish cooperation with American foreign policy endeavors in Turkey’s troubled neighborhood. In the 1990s, American advocacy was remarkably successful. According to a number of Turkish, EU, and American interlocutors, the US played a significant role in securing Turkey’s customs union agreement with the Union in 1996. While failing to ensure recognition of Turkey’s candidacy in 1997, the US also contributed to the momentum which culminated in that outcome in 1999.1 The success of American advocacy in the 1990s was due to both style and substance, exemplifying how the area of complete and partial overlap in transatlantic debates—geostrategic and reform related—produced powerful synergies propelling Turkey’s European integration forward in those years. As far as style is concerned, American ideational power prioritized quiet, behind-closed-doors diplomacy and focused equally on the EU and on Turkey. On the rare occasions of its public diplomacy in favor of Turkey’s European integration, it was careful not to overstate the negative consequences that would ensue from a European rejection. The effectiveness of US diplomacy was enhanced by the positive state of transatlantic relations and the considerable degree of legitimacy of the US in Europe at the time, which, as noted by Keohane (1984, 39), is instrumental in the exercise of ideational power. Emerging victorious from the Cold War, working shoulder-to-shoulder on the transition of Eastern Europe, and intervening to put an end to bloodshed in the Balkans, the Clinton administration enjoyed considerable gravitas in Europe. As for substance, the principal discourses through which American stakeholders rested their case for Turkey’s European integration were both geostrategic and liberal. With respect to the EU, in the 1990s the geostrategic case for Turkey in Europe had significant resonance. In the early years of the post–Cold War, a geostrategic understanding of European integration and, consequently, the geostrategic imperative of rewarding Turkey for its commitment to the West, was still prominent in Europe. Despite the resonance of the liberal discourse in Europe and America, as a result of Turkey’s domestic shortcomings, the liberal case for Turkey’s European integration failed to 162

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strike as many chords on the continent. Nonetheless, particularly in the second half of the 1990s, when the EU was energized by the success of the eastern enlargement, some of the liberal enthusiasm underpinning that process spilled into EU-Turkey relations as well. In other words, the argument that through European integration, Turkey would be transformed into a liberal European democracy gained standing in Europe. Based on this argument, the US targeted its diplomacy to Turkey too. In order to secure the customs union and EU candidacy agreements, American diplomacy was multifaceted, also explaining the effectiveness of US ideational (or ‘soft’) power (Nye 2004, 31). Washington did not only target EU audiences. It also constantly impressed upon Turkey the imperative of proceeding on political reforms, aimed, inter alia, at expanding the freedoms of expression and combating torture. It did so by relying on the logic and incentives of European integration. As put by a former State Department official at the time, the US argument to Turkey was: ‘don’t do it [reform] for us, do it for the EU!’2 As the parties entered the new millennium, however, Washington’s direct advocacy lost sway. Again both style and substance explain why. As for style, particularly under the first administration of George W. Bush, the US engaged in loud, at times brash, public diplomacy, openly calling for Turkey’s EU membership and blaming the EU for its reluctance to proceed with Turkey’s EU accession process. This generated a strong sense in Europe that Washington was not as interested in promoting Turkey’s democratization and European integration as it was in securing Turkey’s cooperation with the US war effort in Iraq. In European minds, promoting Turkey’s European integration had reverted back to being a tactical US goal. The deep transatlantic rift over Iraq made matters worse, contributing to the collective European amnesia regarding what had been, over the course of the previous decade, a consistent US strategic objective. It is true that the American war drumbeat set the tone of US public diplomacy on EU-Turkey relations. It is equally true, however, that the transatlantic divide over Iraq and the plummeting European confidence in the US (Nye 2004, 12–13) distorted the European response to American advocacy in the early years of the twenty-first century. Beyond style, a change in the content of American arguments also played a role in explaining the reduced effectiveness of US advocacy. During the 2000s, American advocacy switched from invoking a strategic-liberal to a strategic-civilizational case for Turkey in Europe. As noted above, in the 1990s Washington argued in favor of Turkey’s European integration on geostrategic and liberal grounds. In the 2000s, whereas strategic arguments Unpacking the Triangle

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remained prominent, they became coupled and intertwined with civilizational arguments: Turkey’s EU membership was portrayed as a strategic priority in a world marked by civilizational divides. Yet on the one hand, the strategic case for Turkey’s EU membership had a reduced appeal in Europe and has been used by opponents of Turkey’s EU accession to justify a privileged partnership instead. On the other hand, the civilizational case for Turkey’s membership, while shared by some in the EU and Turkey, implicitly invoked the spectre of importing the clash of civilizations within the EU itself. Institutional and political developments in Europe further contributed to the reduced resonance of the strategic case and the boomerang effect of the civilizational case for Turkey’s EU membership. Institutionally, the shift from the framework of association to that of accession meant that Turkey became a ‘domestic affair’ for Europeans. Furthermore, by the 2000s, Europeans, having completed monetary integration and being deeply involved in constitutional debates over the future of Europe, had a much higher awareness of the political attributes of their Union in-the-making. The EU, in other words, was not only a geostrategic reality, it was a political project. To the extent that Europe began forging its political identity, it became less receptive to the ‘productive power’ of the geostrategic discourse (Bevir 1999; Digeser 1992), which articulated the EU’s identity in geostrategic terms. Hence, whereas geostrategic considerations remained important, they were complemented and overshadowed by concerns related to internal EU affairs: ranging from political debates over institutions, democracy, identity, and borders, to economic and technical debates over Turkey’s economy and its ability to adopt the acquis communautaire. Suddenly, Turkey was no longer the subject of debate exclusively among foreign policy circles in Europe. It became a hot topic among European political parties, NGOs, trade unions, business associations, churches, and the media as well. Politically instead, the rise of right-wing politics in the EU and the broader fears in Europe triggered by globalization, the erosion of the welfare state, immigration, and economic recession dovetailed with the civilizational turn in world politics, which accelerated dramatically in the aftermath of the attacks of 9/11. Hence, the ‘productive’ effects of the US’s civilizational framing of Turkey’s European integration were magnified by an explosive merger between the debate on Turkey and the broader culturalist debate over the European identity, immigration, and borders. This merger has been so strong that, when President Barack Obama in April 2009 articulated a nuanced identity case for Turkey’s EU membership, emphasizing the mul164

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tiple layers of European identity that Turkey would enrich, his message went largely unheard in the EU. It was even interpreted by some Europeans as a more sophisticated variant of the same culturalist tune.3 While the importance of direct American advocacy on EU-Turkey relations has declined over the last decade, the significance of indirect forms of American influence on Turkey’s European integration is alive and well. In the twenty-first century, the intensity of the dynamics tying together the US, Turkey, and the EU has, if anything, increased. Addressing the third corollary question of this book—the indirect sources of US influence on EU-Turkey relations—chapters 5 and 6 explain how and why this is so. As examined in chapter 5, a critical source of indirect US influence on EU-Turkey relations has played out through the US relationship with Turkey. As far as material power is concerned, for diametrically opposite reasons, the strategic relationship between Turkey and the US has had negative repercussions in Europe. On the one hand, the conspicuous level of Turkish strategic dependence on Washington generated concerns, particularly within left and liberal circles as well as in member states pressing for a less ‘Atlanticist’ Europe, that Turkey might act as an American ‘Trojan horse’ in the EU. Ankara, in other words, might represent a second London within the EU, diluting the push for a more tightly integrated and independent Union. Paradoxically, however, as and when Ankara started saying ‘no’ to Washington, as epitomized by the 2003 rejection by the Turkish parliament of the motion allowing the US to transit through Turkish territory for a second front attack on Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, the overall European reaction was not markedly positive. More recently, the same can be said of Turkey’s departure from American positions on issues such as Iran’s nuclear program and the IsraeliPalestinian conflict. Rather than viewing Ankara’s positions as the signal of a more independent ‘European’ Turkey, many Europeans, particularly among conservative and center-right circles, have interpreted Turkey’s foreign policy reorientations as the distressing proof of its creeping Islamization and distancing from the West.4 American discursive power on Turkey has also had a largely negative impact on European views of Turkey and its EU membership ambitions. As noted above, in the twenty-first century, the American geostrategic and geocivilizational case for Turkey in the EU did find some sympathetic ears in Europe, particularly in member states such as Germany, the UK, Spain, and Italy. However, on a whole this discourse has tended to entrench Europe’s reluctance to proceed with Turkey’s EU accession. The negative impact of these discourses was magnified when Turks themselves invoked these arguUnpacking the Triangle

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ments to their European counterparts. Turkey’s appropriation of these discourses and the rearticulation of their identity in culturalist terms was interpreted cynically in many European quarters, as Ankara’s unveiled attempt to circumvent EU criteria, using its strategic and ‘civilizational’ assets to earn a discount on its EU membership. Furthermore, an affirmation of Turkey’s distinctiveness in strategic and cultural terms threw oil on the fire of Turkeyskeptics in Europe, who argued that Turkey’s ‘difference’ was precisely the reason why it should be kept out of the Union. By contrast, on the issues of partial overlap discussed above—related to Turkey’s domestic reform—American ideational power had a significant positive impact on Turkey’s European integration. Admittedly, American influence on the details of Turkey’s democratic consolidation has been circumscribed. American influence in this regard was important particularly in the second half of the 1990s. In those years and highlighting the inter-relationship between material and ideational power (Nye 2004; Ikenberry and Kupchan 1990, 284–86; Hindess 1996; Bially Mattern 2005), the US effectively used a mix between the two to spur Turkey’s domestic reform process. Through the use of Congressional delays of defense contracts and the State Department’s constant diplomacy on Turkey’s democratic performance, Washington added to the internal Turkish momentum for domestic change. Yet, as anticipated above, on Turkey’s democratization in general, the EU has been a far more influential catalyst for change since the late 1990s. However, when it comes to Turkey’s national security questions—Cyprus, Armenia, and the Kurds—the US enjoys an evident comparative advantage, again given by the potent mix between its material and ideational power resources. All three questions are either explicitly or implicitly linked to Turkey’s European integration. On all three, however, the EU’s influence is limited, because its involvement is either too much and too partial—Cyprus—or too little—the Turkish-Armenian reconciliation and the Kurdish question. By contrast, the US, at different points in time, has been actively engaged on all three counts. In Cyprus, this was particularly true during the Annan Plan process, which while failing to culminate in a settlement of the protracted conflict, served to lift the entire blame for the stalemate from the Turkish Cypriot/Turkish sides. In the Caucasus, the US is a Co-Chair of the Minsk Group for the settlement of the Nagorno Karabakh conflict, and the Damocles sword of Congress’s recognition of the 1915 Armenian genocide, has, nolens volens, interlocked with the process of Turkish-Armenian reconciliation and induced an active American diplomatic role in it since 2008. As for the Kurds, in the 1990s and up until 2006–7, the US role in Iraq fanned 166

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the flames of Turkey’s Sèvres syndrome, complicating the internal resolution of Turkey’s Kurdish question. Since then, however, the US has added important incentives for a positive transformation of Turkey’s Kurdish problem. The security cooperation between Turkey, the US, and Iraq in the fight against the PKK has both calmed Turkish insecurities and ushered the way for a more constructive relationship between Turkey and Iraq, and Northern Iraq in particular. This relationship has now expanded well beyond the military domain and includes critical economic, social, and political components. Moreover, in a context of the US withdrawal from a persistently fragile Iraq, the imperative of cooperating with Northern Iraq, while dealing with its domestic Kurdish problem, is openly acknowledged in Turkey. Ankara’s announcement of a ‘Kurdish opening’ in 2009 has yet to deliver tangible results. But it is indicative of the government’s heightened awareness to tackle the Kurdish question head-on. Chapter 6 turns to another source of indirect American influence on EUTurkey relations: US policy in Turkey’s neighborhood and the implications this has for Turkey’s own foreign policy in the region. Broadly speaking, we can categorize the impact of this indirect form of influence in geographic terms. American and Turkish policies in Turkey’s northern neighborhood—the Balkans and the Caspian regions—on a whole have had positive repercussions in the EU. Turkey’s policies in the Western Balkans, and, in particular its participation in US-led NATO endeavors in Bosnia and Kosovo, were largely interpreted as an important contribution to the stabilization and pacification of Europe. Likewise in the energy realm, as Americans presented Turkey as a hub for the transport of Caspian supplies to Europe, they heralded the country as a decisive component in the quest for European energy security. The accomplishment of the BTC oil pipeline and parallel gas pipelines, and Turkey’s prominent role in the ongoing debates over the Nabucco and South Stream gas pipeline projects, have placed Turkey at the heart of Europe’s energy map. To the north, therefore, American material and ideational power and the repercussions it has had on Turkish foreign policy in the security and energy realms have situated Turkey ‘in Europe’. In doing so, the US has provided ammunition to those Europeans advocating Turkey’s EU membership on strategic grounds. As already noted, strategic arguments have not swayed the minds of those Europeans focusing on the non-strategic and non-foreign policy related dimensions of Turkey’s EU accession. Yet strategic arguments nonetheless do have an important place in the overall panorama of European debates on Turkey’s EU membership. Unpacking the Triangle

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To Turkey’s south instead, American material and discursive powers and their repercussions on Turkish foreign policy have indirectly militated against Turkey’s EU accession. In terms of material power, the US-led war in Iraq and the destabilization of the region this gave rise to, interlocked with European debates over the borders of the EU; a debate which has been on the rise since the 2004 eastern enlargement and the birth of the European Neighourhood Policy. The fact that Europeans, and in particular the French, began calling for a definition of the EU’s final borders as and when Iraq went ablaze strengthened the case of those who believed that Turkey should best be kept as a friendly buffer state between the EU and the turbulent Middle East. In terms of discursive power, the resurgence of US democracy promotion policies in the context of the ‘War on Terror’, and the articulation of Turkey as a model for the Muslim world, acted as a powerful antidote against Turkey’s European integration. By explicitly or implicitly espousing a civilizational view of the world, presenting Turkey as a model for the Muslim world put emphasis on Turkey’s Muslim identity, setting it apart from Christian Europe. Most would agree that Turkey could be an excellent model for the Muslim world. Yet Turkey-skeptics in Europe would be quick to add that precisely because of this Turkey cannot be admitted as a member of the EU. The wars in Iraq and most notably the 2003 US-led invasion of the country generated a vacuum in the Middle East both in security and in diplomatic terms. Turkey’s foreign policy, particularly under the Justice and Development Party governments, stepped into this vacuum. This has been evident in Iraq. Yet it has also spilled into Turkey’s deepening relations with other southern neighbors—Syria and Iran—as well as Turkey’s attempts at mediation involving Israel, Syria, and Hamas. Many of Turkey’s foreign policy endeavors in the Middle East have been watched with interest in Europe, as well as in the US. Turkey’s cooperative ties with its neighbors and its efforts at mediating the many conflicts of the Middle East have been praised by many and invoked by Turkey’s supporters as arguments in favor of Turkey’s EU membership. Yet others have raised eyebrows at Turkish foreign policy initiatives, particularly when these have not matched EU (and US) positions; hence the European concern over Turkey’s visa liberalization policies, over Turkey’s relations with Hamas and Iran, or over its harsh criticism of Israel. Some, on the liberal and left ends of the political spectrum, have been generally sympathetic to the transformation of Turkey’s foreign policy in the Middle East. Yet they have questioned to what extent this entails a dilution of Turkey’s European vocation.5 Others, on the conservative and right ends of the spectrum, have tended to be more openly skeptical of Turkey’s Middle Eastern policies, interpreting these as 168

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Ta b l e 7. 1 American Influence on EU-Turkey Relations: A Summary of the Arguments Material Power Ideational Power Discursive Power Direct influence

None

+ Quiet diplomacy in the 1990s

+ Geostrategic in 1990s

– Public diplomacy in 2000s

– Geostrategic in 2000s

+ De-dramatize 0 Liberal in 1990s EU-Turkey relations – Over-criticize EU + US legitimacy high

– Civilizational in 2000s

– US legitimacy low Indirect influence through Turkey

– Turkish acceptance

+ Domestic reforms in the 1990s

– Turkey as a strategic bridge

– Turkish resistance

+ Kurdish, Cyprus and Armenian issues in the 2000s

– Turkey as a civilizational bride

+/0 Energy

– Turkey as a model

+/0 Western Indirect Balkans influence through the – Middle East neighborhood

Legend – negative US impact on EU-Turkey relations + positive US impact on EU-Turkey relations 0 no net impact on EU-Turkey relations

indicative of Muslim Turkey’s slide to the East. Whether sympathetic or skeptical of Turkish foreign policy in the Middle East, on a whole Ankara’s initiatives have strengthened the case of those calling for Turkey as a ‘privileged outsider’ rather than ‘natural insider’ in Europe. Table 7.1 captures the principal arguments presented in this book and summarized in the preceding paragraphs. It highlights the impact on EU-Turkey relations of American direct and indirect influence, exercised through forms of material, ideational, and discursive power. In doing so, it points out which US actions and arguments have had a positive, which a negative, and which a nil effect on the prospects of Turkey’s European integration. Unpacking the Triangle

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Promoting Turkey’s Integration: Implications for US Policy The US has many good reasons to back Turkey’s European integration, explaining the nearly unanimous support for this goal within the fractious American political and civil society scene. NATO member Turkey’s EU membership tallies with the American vision of European integration: a large (and enlarging) political-economic construct embedded within the Western security alliance. Within this vision of Europe, Turkey’s EU membership would enable the Union to face the strategic challenges and opportunities in its neighborhood and beyond, adding weight and assets to the broader Western alliance. The synergies would be reciprocal, given that through its EU membership Turkey would be ‘anchored’ to the West, ensuring its progressive democratization and development in line with the values, aims, and interests of the West. In other words, Turkey’s EU accession would set in motion a virtuous dynamic: EU membership would give rise to a more democratic, prosperous, and stable Turkey, which in turn would enhance the strategic assets of the EU, NATO, and the Western alliance as a whole. Viewed from an American angle, the logic and consistency of this argument is watertight, suggesting that, as long as it remains a remote possibility, the US will continue to support Turkey’s EU membership. As highlighted in this book, however, the US has not always been effective in the pursuit of this goal. Naturally, America is only one factor shaping Turkey’s EU accession, and it is not necessarily a decisive, let alone a sufficient, one. Nonetheless, at previous moments in time, the US did indeed play an important role in spurring along Turkey’s European integration. A final question is whether and how the US could pursue more effectively its strategic goal of furthering Turkey’s integration into the EU. Based on this analysis, four suggestions could be made. First, as far as the US’s direct advocacy vis-à-vis the EU is concerned, American officials should continue to pursue Turkey’s EU membership. Europeans instinctively point out that the US cannot persuade the Union to embrace Turkey into its fold. This is true. But it is equally true that if the US were to abandon the goal of Turkey’s European integration, Turkey’s EU vocation would not be well served. As this book has argued, the US played a pivotal role in triggering closer ties between Turkey and the European project. Arguably this role, while different today than in the early 1990s, continues to be important. This is particularly so at a time of European introspection, first triggered by the constitutional crisis in the EU in the immediate aftermath of the eastern enlargement and then exacerbated by the financial and eurozone crisis in 2009–2010. 170

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This said, American advocacy would be best advised to revert to the quiet diplomacy that characterized the 1990s, avoiding instead loud public appeals in favor of Turkey’s EU membership typical of the last decade. This suggestion is not new, and has become a common refrain in Washington as well as EU foreign policy circles since 2004–2005 (Abramowitz et al. 2004; Evin et al. 2010; Larrabee 2010). In addition to this, the findings of this book would suggest that American quiet diplomacy is effective when it takes a constant active interest in the evolution of Turkey’s accession negotiations and its reform process. EU officials have in fact noted with some degree of concern the growing disinterest of their American counterparts in Turkey’s EU accession process.6 Public appeals need not be excluded, but when they do take place they should avoid finger-pointing at the Union for its reluctance to embrace Turkey and target EU rather than Turkish audiences. As discussed in chapter 4, the reverse—i.e., US public accusations of the EU when addressing Turkish audiences—are viewed by many Europeans as a tactical and cost-free means by American interlocutors to ingratiate their Turkish allies. Second and more important, as in the 1990s the US would pursue the goal of Turkey’s EU accession by working shoulder-to-shoulder with EU and Turkish actors to spur Turkey’s reform momentum. As argued at length above, there are important complementarities between the EU and the US in this regard. Whereas the EU is best placed to monitor and recommend change in Turkey’s constitutional, legislative, and administrative reforms in a wide array of political, economic, and social domains, the US has a comparative advantage in influencing Turkey’s national security questions. To the extent that three of Turkey’s national security dilemmas—Cyprus, Armenia, and the Kurds—entail both domestic and foreign policy angles, the US as a global superpower, with a model partnership with Turkey, and pervasive presence and influence in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Middle East, and the Caucasus can and has played an important role in the resolution of these conflicts. In this respect a special word of mention goes to the Cyprus conflict, which appears to have slipped down the US list of priorities since the 2004 failure of the Annan Plan. Third, as for the content of American advocacy vis-à-vis the EU, Turkey, and the broader region, US stakeholders could review their arguments by adding nuance and factoring in the repercussions of such arguments in Europe. Europeans are inclined to shy away from a ‘strategic’ view of the world, of Europe, and of the enlargement process. This is especially so at times in which Europeans are enmeshed in institutional, political, and economic domestic and EU-level problems. They can and should be reminded Unpacking the Triangle

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of the strategic implications of Turkey’s EU membership by their American counterparts. Strategic arguments may not be decisive, but they nonetheless represent an important component of EU-Turkey relations. But Americans must also recognize that overemphasizing geostrategy can be a double-edged sword. Turkey’s opponents in Europe argue that many if not most of Turkey’s strategic assets could be reaped by developing a strategic cooperation with non-EU member Turkey. Outside the EU, Turkey would maximize its foreign policy autonomy, and partner with the EU and the US to pursue common international endeavors. Likewise, this book has also argued that possibly the most negative impact the US has had on the evolution of an EU-Turkey relationship has occurred by casting the relationship into a civilizational mold, in all its shapes and forms. This has included American praises of Turkey as a ‘model’ for the Muslim world and a ‘bridge’ between civilizations. It has also included American critiques of Turkey and of the EU, whereby Turkey’s perceived ‘loss’ to the East is attributed not least to the EU’s cold shoulder to Turkey. To his credit, President Obama has already articulated a far more nuanced identity case for Turkey in Europe, one which does not rest on black-and-white civilizational categories, but which highlights instead the multiple layers of the European identity of which Turkey is part. Today, this discourse may have few supporters in Europe. But it is only by developing and broadening this type of argument that American state and non-state actors alike can contribute to a more constructive identity debate on Turkey and the EU. Finally and related to this, this book has argued that the US has developed a more varied range of debates regarding Turkey’s foreign policy and Turkey’s place in the world, when compared to the EU. True, some Americans have wrung their hands over the ‘loss’ of Turkey to the East. Yet the US has also developed an alternative discourse regarding Turkey and its foreign policy. A strand of debate in Washington focuses on Turkey as an independent actor in its region, viewing it as the welcome product of its democratization, even if this means parting ways, on some occasions, with the US. Whereas the US has been at the helm of civilizational discourses impeding Turkey’s EU membership, American perceptions of Turkey neither bear the baggage of centuries of Ottoman-Christian confrontation (Lesser 2007, 18) nor are they poisoned by the entrenched vices of European Orientalism, exacerbated further in the twenty-first century by the securitization of culture, identity, and migration. In view of this, American stakeholders may contribute to reshaping European views of Turkey as an actor in its neighborhood which is concomitantly more European, more democratic, more conservative, and 172

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more Islam-friendly. In its direct debates with European counterparts as well as through its relationship with Turkey and the broader neighborhood, the US can help reconcile the notion of Turkey’s Europeanness with its transregional nature, thus driving at the heart of and contributing to the EU’s debate over its own identity. In conclusion, this book has argued that behind the scenes, the US has been and continues to be an important external determinant of Turkey’s tortuous path to Europe. While American direct advocacy regarding EU-Turkey relations added to the momentum in favor of Turkey’s accession process in the 1990s, today it is the indirect sources of US influence that are more significant. The US’s contributions to Turkey’s domestic and foreign policy reforms as well as to the broader discursive frames through which Turkey is debated in Europe have played an often unacknowledged and underestimated role in Turkey’s European integration. This role has not been always positive nor always negative. But it has been significant. Therein lies the answer to the apparent paradox presented at the outset. The US is and always will be an external voice, with an important but limited direct influence on Turkey’s European future. However, in view of the breadth and depth of the material, ideational, and discursive bonds tying the US, Turkey, and the EU together, America’s influence, broadly construed, on EU-Turkey relations is far more pervasive. As such, it is only through a greater awareness of the impact of these indirect sources of influence that the US can play a more constructive role in Turkey’s European integration. Rather than simply pleading for Turkey’s EU membership, it is through greater engagement on Turkey’s reform efforts and nuance in its discourses regarding Turkey, Turkish foreign policy, and Turkey’s place in Europe that the United States can act as a driver in the ever closer ties between Turkey and the European Union.

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Notes

C ha p t e r 1 1. In July 1999, for example, Prime Minister Bülent Ecevit accused EU member states of conspiring to ‘turn the EU into a Christian club’, Daily Telegraph 12 July 1999. Quoted in Rumelili (2008). 2. The Copenhagen political criteria were established by the European Council in Copenhagen in 1993. They define the political conditions that render an EU candidate country eligible to open accession negotiations with the EU. These conditions include the stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights, and respect for and protection of minorities. 3. These eight chapters, in principle linked to the implementation of the Additional Protocol to the customs union agreement, include the free movement of goods, the right of establishment and freedom to provide services, financial services, agriculture and rural affairs, fisheries, transport policy, customs union, and external relations. 4. These five chapters, ostensibly linked ‘too closely’ to the goal of full membership, include agriculture and rural affairs, economic and monetary policy, regional policy and coordination of structural funds, financial and budgetary provisions, and institutions. One of these chapters—agriculture and rural affairs—overlaps with the eight chapters ‘frozen’ by the EU as a whole. 5. The chapters blocked in December 2009, again on the grounds of Turkey’s persisting non-implementation of the Additional Protocol, include the judiciary and fundamental rights, justice, freedom and security, education and culture, common foreign and security policy, and energy. 6. The Annan Plan, first disclosed in 2002 and then revised five times until April 2004, provided for the establishment of a United Cyprus Republic being the EU member, comprising a federal level and two constituent states—Greek Cypriot in the south, Turkish Cypriot in the north. Federal institutions—including a presidential council and a twochamber parliament—were to be marked by political equality in effect. The Plan included territorial proposals which provided for a significant reduction of the Turkish Cypriot zone from 37 percent to approximately 28.5 percent of the island, which would have allowed the majority of Greek Cypriot displaced persons to return to their properties under Greek Cypriot rule. The remaining displaced persons who wished to return to their properties in the north would have the right to reinstatement under specified criteria or would be granted compensation instead. The Plan also provided for a persistence of Greek, Turkish, and British security guarantees, a substantial scaling back of Greek and Turkish forces, and a UN peacekeeping force to monitor implementation of the agreement. The Plan was submitted to

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separate referendums in northern and southern Cyprus on 24 April 2004. While 65 percent of the Turkish Cypriot accepted the Plan, 76 percent of the Greek Cypriots rejected it. One week later, Cyprus was admitted to EU membership still divided.

C ha p t e r 2 1. Turkey itself played a prime role in articulating the Soviet threat to the US, beginning in the summer of 1945. Since then and throughout the Cold War, Turkish actors themselves presented their country as a barrier against Soviet expansionism. 2. I would like to thank Henri Barkey for raising this point. 3. Following the invasion of Afghanistan by the Soviet Union in December 1979, the US administration, first under President Carter and then under President Reagan, launched a massive (overt and covert) support and training campaign for the Afghan mujahideen (holy warriors) in their struggle against Soviet occupation. 4. The ‘model’ argument was used at times also under the Clinton administration. Anthony Blinken, President Clinton’s Special Assistant and Senior Director for European Affairs at the National Security Council, for example stated that: ‘Turkey sits at the crossroads—or, if you prefer, atop the fault lines—of the world. Because of its place  . . . its history  . . . its size  . . . and strength, and most important, because of what it is—a nation of mainly Islamic faith that is secular, democratic, and modernizing—Turkey must be a leader and can be a role model for a large swath of the world’. Address to the Washington Institute’s Third Annual Turgut Özal Memorial Lecture on Turkey and US-Turkish Relations, Washington, 8 December 1999. 5. Jim Hoagland, ‘Turkey is an exception: America supports some dangerous allies’, International Herald Tribune, 9 December 2002. 6. ‘Interview by Mehmet Al Birand with Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’, BBC Monitoring Europe, 8 March 2009. 7. In March 2006, Turkish Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan declared: ‘I do not believe that there has been assimilation or genocide in Darfur’. See ‘Prime Minister Erdoğan reiterates ‘no genocide’ in Darfur’, Today’s Zaman, 9 November 2009; In July 2009, Erdoğan likened the violence against the Uighur minority in Xingiang to genocide. See ‘China tells PM Erdoğan to withdraw Uighur genocide remark’, in Today’s Zaman, 15 July 2009. It should be noted in this respect that when referring to Darfur, the Turkish Prime Minister used the expression ‘yapamaz’ rather than ‘yapmaz’, meaning that Muslims ‘cannot/ should not’ rather than ‘will not’ commit genocide. 8. David Schenker, ‘A NATO without Turkey’, Wall Street Journal, 5 November 2009. 9. Interview with American diplomat, Damascus, October 2009. 10. In March 2010, Gordon reiterated the view that Turkey is not being ‘lost’ to the West. While reaching out in new ways to its neighbors and displaying multiple identities, Turkey continues to share fundamental interests and values with its transatlantic partners. Sakıp Sabanci Lecture by Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gordon, 17 March 2010, The Brookings Institution, Washington. 11. Remarks at the Opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy, ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 24 September 2009, Washington. 12. Remarks at the EU Institute for Security Studies EU-US Forum, 19 November 2009, Washington. 176

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13. Sakıp Sabanci Lecture by Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gordon, 17 March 2010, Brookings Institution, Washington. 14. Conversation with American academic, January 2010, Washington. 15. Conversation with the author, December 2009, Washington. 16. Remarks at the Opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 24 September 2009, Washington. 17. Berlin Plus refers to the agreement reached between the EU and NATO in December 2002 to allow the EU to draw on some of NATO’s military assets in its own Common Security and Defense Policy missions. Under the agreement, the EU accepted that Cyprus, as a non-member of NATO’s Partnership for Peace that does not have a security agreement with NATO on the exchange of classified documents, cannot participate in official NATO-EU meetings. 18. Conversation with Turkish analyst, April 2010, Washington. 19. Conversation with American analyst, 19 November 2009, Washington. 20. Federal News Service, ‘State Department Foreign Press Center Briefing. Secretary of State Rice’s Participation in the NATO Ministerial and Visits to Greece, Turkey and Bulgaria’, 24 April 2006, Foreign Press Center, Washington. 21. Conversation with senior State Department official, 29 October 2009, Washington. 22. The first school of thought has often been promoted by less influential bureaus with global mandates, such as the Bureau for Democracy, Labor and Human Rights. See Barkey (2003). 23. See for example the remarks made by Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, Office of the Assistant Secretary of State, US Department of Defense, News Transcript, 28 February 2008, www.defens.gov/Trancripts/Transcript.aspx?TranscriptID=4162 (accessed June 2010). 24. Email correspondence with American academic, 5 January 2010. 25. Conversation with Congress staffers, 13 November 2009. 26. Remarks by Alan Makovsky, Opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy, ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 24 September 2009, Washington. 27. Ibid. 28. Interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. More specifically, under the Obama administration, Democrat representatives, aware of the domestic and foreign policy travails of the President, have been keen not to aggravate the executive’s agenda. 29. Interview with Congress official, December 2009, Washington. 30. Conversation with TÜSİAD representative, 7 October 2009, Washington. 31. Conversation with Congress staffers, 13 November 2009, Washington. 32. Conversation with Armenian-American journalist, April 2010, Washington. 33. Interview with Congress official, December 2009, Washington. 34. Robert Fisk, ‘Someone remembers this atrocity at last—to Obama’s dismay’, The Independent, 6 March 2010. 35. Quoted in John Barham, ‘Washington set to soothe Turkey’s wounded pride’, Financial Times, 19 December 1997. 36. Remarks at the Opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy, ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 23 September 2009, Washington. 37. Conversation with American analyst, 19 November 2009, Washington.

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38. Remarks at the Opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy, ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 23 September 2009, Washington. See also Walker (2009).

C ha p t e r 3 1. Joschka Fischer, ‘Interview with Joschka Fischer’, Global Leaders, 16 April 2008, http://www.global-leaders.tv/en/archive/joschka_fischer.asp (accessed September 2009). 2. ‘Swedish FM: Turkey’s foreign policies facilitates EU bid’, Hurriyet Daily News, 28 January 2010. 3. Gerhard Schroeder, ‘Ohne die Tuerkei versinkt die EU im Mittelmass’, Welt-Online, 3 May 2010; http://www.welt.de/debatte/kommentare/article7436815/Ohne-die-Tuerkei-versinkt-dieEU-im-Mittelmass.html (unofficial translation) (accessed May 2010). 4. José-Manuel Barroso, ‘Remarks by Commission President José Manuel Barroso upon the signature of the Nabucco intergovernmental agreement’, Press Release, SPEECH/09/339, 13 July 2009, http://europa.eu/rapid/pressReleasesAction. do?reference=SPEECH/09/339 (accessed September 2009). 5. Liam Fox, ‘Turkey could be a beacon to the Islamic world: that’s why it must be admitted to the EU’, Daily Telegraph, 3 September 2006. 6. See ‘Post-Enlargement Stress’, The Economist, 20 November 2007. 7. L. Phillips, ‘Van Rompuy: “Turkey will never be part of Europe”,’ EUObserver.com, 18 November 2009. 8. Interview with French journalist, Paris, March 2010. 9. Agence France Presse, ‘Raffarin sees “river of Islam” threatening Turkey EU membership’, 23 September 2004, Expatica, http://www.expatica.com/fr/news/local_news/ raffarin-sees-river-of-islam-threatbrin-turkey-eu-membership-12162.html# (accessed September 2009). 10. Conversation with German journalist, June 2010, Berlin. 11. Valery Giscard d’Estaing quoted in ‘Giscard Remarks cause uproar in Ankara, Brussels’, Turkish Daily News, 11 November 2002. 12. Vaiju Naravane, ‘An Uncertain Wait’, The Hindu, 27 January 2005. 13. Ernest Hirsch Ballin, 24 September 2004, Antwerp. 14. D. Sriskandarajah, ‘How the flood of European migrants is receding’, Financial Times, 2 May 2007. 15. M. Piccamej, ‘La Turchia in Europa: un pericolo sottovalutato’, Movimento dei Giovani Padani, 2000; http://www.giovanipadani.leganord.org/articoli.asp?ID=2656 (accessed July 2009). 16. Luca Cordero di Montezemolo, ‘Italia Turchia: Montezemolo, per imprese Ankara già in UE’, AGI, 8 November 2007, http://www.aziende-oggi.it/archives/00041157.html (accessed July 2009). 17. C. Prantner, ‘Schönwetter-Tour für Österreich, Scharfe Kritik Wirtschaftstreibender an der Wiener Türkeipolitik’, Der Standard, 20 May 2008. 18. In a book written while he was still Cardinal Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI questioned Turkey’s EU membership on the grounds of Turkey’s Muslim culture and the EU’s Christian roots. See Pope Benedict XVI (2005). 178

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19. Correspondence with a French Armenian expert on Turkey-Armenian relations and the Caucasus, November 2009. 20. Spiegel Online International, ‘Ex-Chancellor Helmut Kohl Weighs In on Turkey’, German papers, 15 December 2004, http://www.spiegel.de/international/0,1518,332953,00. html (accessed September 2009).

C ha p t e r 4 1. Interview with former US Ambassador, March 2010, Washington. 2. Interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. 3. Interview with former State Department official, December 2009, Washington. 4. Interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. 5. Interview with former State Department official, December 2009, Washington. 6. Conversation with Turkish analyst and former diplomat, April 2010, Montreal. 7. In the midst of the Helsinki European Council crisis, EU High Representative Solana had called Assistant Secretary of State Grossman asking for Clinton to intervene personally by soliciting Ecevit to accept the deal. Interview with former State Department official, December 2009, Washington. 8. Judy Dempsey, ‘Tough Talk by Ankara and Washington Misfires’, Financial Times, 13 December 2002. 9. ‘Too much pressure hindered Turkey’s EU bid, Verheugen says’, Bloomberg, 16 December 2002. Emphasis added. 10. Stephen Castle, ‘Summit: Turkey turns its fury on prejudiced European leaders’, The Independent, 14 December 2002. 11. ‘Chirac chides Bush over Turkey in NATO meeting’, Strategy Page, 29 June 2004, http://www.strategypage.com/militaryforums/424-97.aspx (accessed January 2010). 12. Ibid. 13. Paragraph 7 of Turkey’s Accession Negotiations Framework reads: ‘In the period up to accession, Turkey will be required to progressively align its policies towards third countries and its positions within international organizations (including in relation to the membership by all EU Member States of those organizations and arrangements) with the policies and positions adopted by the Union and its Member States’. 14. ‘U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice intervenes in EU-Turkey consultations, communicates with Cyprus President Tassos Papadopoulos’, Embassy of Greece to the United States, 4 October 2005, http://www.greekembassy.org/embassy/content/en/Article. aspx?office=3&folder=223&article=15877 (accessed January 2010). 15. Personal observation by the author over the course of a one-year fellowship at the Transatlantic Academy, Washington, in 2009–2010. 16. Remarks by former Assistant Secretary of State David Kramer at a lunch hosted by the German Marshall Fund for the CDU/CSU Member of German Parliament Andreas Schockenhoff to discuss the prospects of EU enlargement, 2 February 2010, Washington. 17. Interview with Spanish diplomat and British diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 18. ‘Turkey renews pressure to win firm date for EU entry talks’, Financial Times, 4 December 2002. 19. ‘Chirac chides Bush over Turkey in NATO meeting’, Strategy Page, 29 June 2004, http://www.strategypage.com/militaryforums/424-97.aspx (accessed January 2010).

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20. Remarks at the opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy, ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 24 September 2009, Washington. 21. Remarks at the presentation of Turkey in Europe: Breaking the Vicious Circle, The Independent Commission on Turkey, 24 September 2009, Brookings Institution, Washington. 22. Conversation with former State Department official and analyst, June 2010, Washington. 23. ‘EU door must stay open to Turkey: US envoy’, Agence France Presse, Bucharest, 19 March 1998; P. Geitner, ‘EU to hold London conference with 12 Mediterranean associates with Germany’, Associated Press Worldstream, 20 March 1998. 24. Remarks made at the Istanbul Forum, 20 October 2009, Istanbul. 25. ‘U.S. concerned at Turkey shift: Gates’, Reuters, 9 June 2010. 26. Steven Erlanger and Stephen Castle, ‘Barroso defends Europe’s move toward austerity’, New York Times, 21 June 2010. 27. Interview with French scholar, March 2010, Paris; and German analyst, March 2010, Berlin. 28. Interview with French diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 29. Unofficial translation by the author. 30. Interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. 31. Conversation with French diplomat and British diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 32. ‘Obama urges Europe to accept Turkey as member’, 5 April 2009, sophiaecho.com (accessed May 2010). 33. Interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. 34. Remarks by Jim Steinberg, Deputy Secretary of State, at the launch of Transatlantic Trends 2009, German Marshall Fund, 7 September 2009, Washington, and at the EU-US Forum, EU Institute for Security Studies, 20 November 2009, Washington. 35. Interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. 36. Interview with Commission official, March 2010, Brussels. 37. Ian Black and Michael White, ‘EU dashes Anglo-US hopes for early talks on Turkish entry’, The Guardian, 13 December 2002. 38. ‘Outrage at “old Europe” remarks’, BBC News, 23 January 2003, http://news.bbc. co.uk/2/hi/europe/2687403.stm (accessed May 2010). 39. J. Lichfield, ‘“Friends” Act by Bush and Chirac Fails to Heal Rift’, The Independent, 27 May 2002. 40. ‘Peremptory tendencies: France fires a warning shot at the US’, The Guardian, 7 February 2002. 41. Interview with French scholar, March 2010, Paris. 42. Interview with German journalist, January 2010, Washington. 43. Conversation with German analyst, March 2010, Berlin. 44. Which was more than what Salazar’s Portugal could claim. 45. Conversation with American academic, January 2010, Washington. 46. As reported by Ojanen (2008), in September 2007, French Defense Minister Hervé Morin called for a special status for Turkey in the Common Security and Defence Policy as a means to strengthen the EU’s independent capabilities, for example.

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47. Arnaud Leparmentier and Laurent Zecchini, ‘Pour ou contre l’adhesion de la Turquie à l’Union européenne’, Le Monde, 9 November 2002 (emphasis added). 48. The “enlargement fatigue” can be attributed both to the disappointment of many Europeans (and in particular Germans) at the euro-skepticism of East European member states such as Poland or the Czech Republic, as well as the unpreparedness of states such as Romania and Bulgaria to enter the Union. Remarks by German CDU/CSU Member of Parliament Andreas Schockenhoff on EU enlargement, German Marshall Fund, 2 February 2010, Washington. 49. Conversation with German analyst, March 2010, Berlin. 50. Arnaud Leparmentier and Laurent Zecchini, ‘Pour ou contre l’adhesion de la Turquie à l’Union européenne’, Le Monde, 9 November 2002 (emphasis added). 51. Conversation with French diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 52. Conversation with Commission official, June 2010, Washington. 53. Marc Grossman, ‘America should be ready to fill the void on Turkey’, Financial Times, 16 September 2005. 54. Conversation with American academic, January 2010, Washington. 55. Conversation with American academic, January 2010, Washington; interview with Congress official, November 2009, Washington. 56. Elitsa Vucheva, ‘Sarkozy and Obama continue to disagree over Turkey’, EUObserver.com, 7 June 2009. 57. Ambrose Evans Pritchard, ‘Want us to take Turkey? You add Mexico’, Daily Telegraph, 14 December 2002. 58. ‘Chirac chides Bush over Turkey in NATO meeting’, Strategy Page, 29 June 2004, http://www.strategypage.com/militaryforums/424-97.aspx (accessed January 2010). 59. Conversation with French diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 60. ‘Patten tries to soothe West-Islam links—EU Commissioner’s Plea’, Financial Times, 25 May 2004. 61. ‘EU turns up heat on Turkey as decision looms’, International Herald Tribune, 18 September 2004. 62. Quoted in the Sunday Express, 19 December 2004, p. 19. 63. ‘Turkey’s entry into EU will present model against clash of cultures’, Today’s Zaman, 5 July 2010. 64. Conversation with French diplomat, March 2010, Washington.

C ha p t e r 5 1. By 1914, there were over 150 American missionaries operating churches, hospitals, and schools in the Empire, principally for the benefit of Ottoman Christians (Vander Lippe 1993, 33). 2. In 1930, after seven years of public controversy and rejection by the US Senate, the US ratified the Treaty of Amity and Commerce signed in 1923 in Lausanne, known as the ‘other’ Lausanne Treaty insofar as it was virtually identical to the Lausanne Treaty signed by Turkey and the European powers. 3. Conversation with American academic, January 2010, Washington.

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4. Following the near war between Turkey and Syria in October 1998, Öcalan was expelled from Syria. Öcalan traveled first to Russia and then on to Greece and Italy. In 1998, the Turkish government requested the extradition of Öcalan from Italy. Italy did not yield to Turkey’s request, but did eventually expel Öcalan, who was eventually captured in Kenya on 15 February 1999, while being transferred from the Greek embassy to Nairobi international airport traveling with a Republic of Cyprus passport. The operation was conducted by the Turkish intelligence agency Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı with the help of the CIA. 5. Viewed by Turkey as necessary in order to halt the flow of Kurdish refugees from Northern Iraq into Turkey. 6. Approximately 1.5 million refugees are said to have crossed the border from Northern Iraq into Turkey and Iran as a consequence of the war and Saddam Hussein’s policies towards the Kurds (Larrabee and Lesser 2001, 138). On the implications for Turkey of the Gulf War and the creation of a safe haven in Northern Iraq, see Kirişci (1996). 7. Approximately $2 billion per year (Larrabee and Lesser 2001, 135). In order to ease the costs of sanctions to Turkey, the US persuaded the UN Security Council to export 50 percent of the oil allowed under the Oil for Food program through Turkey and exclude Turkish trade with Iraq through the Kurdish areas from the sanctions regime (Barkey 2003). 8. Turkey believed that the emergence of an autonomous area in Northern Iraq spurred Kurdish nationalism and provided the PKK with the logistical and political space to operate from Northern Iraq as well as across Iraq, Iran, and Syria. 9. In 1997, with the transition from Operation Provide Comfort to the air-only Operation Northern Watch, the TGNA was no longer required to approve the US/UK use of Incirlik at six-monthly intervals. 10. By contrast, both the State Department and the Pentagon’s EUCOM were far more sympathetic to Turkish concerns (Larrabee 2007a, 9). 11. Including adamant Turkish resistance to the inclusion of the oil-rich city of Kirkuk in Northern Iraq (Barkey 2009). 12. Turkey has refused to commit more troops in response to President Barack Obama’s appeal in the fall of 2009, however. The American emphasis on combat troops has not been shared in Turkey, where the fact that not a single Afghan has died from a Turkish bullet is cited as a major reason for the success of Turkish troops in the country. 13. TIKA (2009) 2008 Annual Report, Ankara, p. 10. 14. In December 1999, Turkey received $4 billion in stand-by credits from the IMF, followed by $7.5 billion in loans in November 2000, $15.7 billion in May 2000, and $16.2 billion for 2002–2004. US support was critical in securing these successive agreements as well as in ensuring a tighter monitoring of Turkey’s economic performance (Migdalovitz 2002, 20). 15. See Caroline Daniel, ‘Bush and Erdogan set to hold talks over Iraq’, Financial Times, 10 December 2002. 16. Robert Badinter, ‘Turquie: paroles, paroles’, Le Monde, 22 October 2004. 17. ‘Turkey in EU Strong With It, Stronger Without It’, Polish News Bulletin, 30 September 2004, September Issue of Rzeczpospolita, p. 12. 18. ‘Le Parlement refuse le déploiement de soldats américains; Revers turc pour Bush’, Le Figaro, 3 March 2003. 19. 3,000 Italian troops were deployed in July 2003, when the war was ostensibly over. 20. Dominique Moisi, ‘Europe is not ready to swallow Turkey’, International Herald Tribune, 22 October 2004. 182

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21. BBC poll quoted in Karl Vick, ‘In many Turks’ Eyes U.S. Remains the Enemy’, Washington Post, 10 April 2005. 22. The Sèvres syndrome indicates the preoccupation in parts of Turkish political culture with the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres, which redesigned and drastically scaled down the size of the prospective Turkish state after the end of World War I and the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. The collective memory of Sèvres has deeply influenced the psychological development of the Turkish Republic, inducing it to highlight territorial integrity as the leading principle underpinning laws and policies as well as wider political and popular cultures. The memory of Sèvres has also led to the interpretation in Turkey of international recommendations and pressures as undue external interference aimed at disintegrating the Turkish state. 23. Interview with French journalist, March 2010, Paris. 24. Conversation with German analyst, March 2010, Berlin. 25. With the exception of 2002, when the US channeled $200 million to Turkey in order to ease the costs to Turkey of assuming ISAF’s command (Migdalovitz 2002, 21). 26. Between 1993 and 2000, the US signed $5.17 billion in arms trade with Turkey, making Turkey the first or second largest US arms purchaser in Europe (Migdalovitz 2002, 20). 27. Talbott (1998, 2) in his speech also explicitly criticized the imprisonment of then mayor of Istanbul Tayyip Erdoğan for reciting a poem in 1998. At the time, the US Consul had visited Erdoğan following his conviction. 28. Referring to the Armenian genocide. 29. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton and Turkish Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu, US Department of State, Office of the Spokesman, 5 June 2009. 30. Department of State, ‘Turkey High Court Closes the Democratic Society Party’, 11 December 2009. 31. Conversation with American academic, January 2009, Washington. 32. Conversation with former Dutch Member of the European Parliament, February 2010, Washington. 33. The village guards (korucular) are Kurdish civilians, armed and paid by the state to fight the PKK. There are approximately 60,000 village guards in the region. 34. Hurriyet Daily News for example lashed out against a report on the Kurdish question by an American think tank in the fall of 2009. See ‘RAND report wreaks of arrogance’, Hurriyet Daily News, 13 September 2009. 35. Remarks by Jim Steinberg, Deputy Secretary of State, at the launch of Transatlantic Trends 2009, German Marshall Fund, Washington, 7 September 2009, and at the EU-US Forum, EU Institute for Security Studies, Washington, 20 November 2009. 36. As stated by Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gordon: ‘The Democratization Project, which aims to protect the rights of Kurds and other minority groups, is a major step in Turkish history. We applaud this initiative and encourage Turkey to continue to move forward. The success of this effort would go a long way in securing Turkish democracy, promoting reconciliation in Turkish society, as well as advancing Turkey’s case for EU accession’. See Philip Gordon, ‘The United States and Turkey: A View from the Obama Administration’, Sakıp Sabanci Lecture by Assistant Secretary of State Phil Gordon, 17 March, 2010, Brookings Institution, Washington, http://www.state.gov/p/eur/ rls/rm/2010/138446.htm (accessed June 2010). 37. Conversation with British diplomat, March 2010, Washington.

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38. The two protocols signed by Turkey and Armenia in October 2009 provide for the development of bilateral relations (including the establishment of diplomatic relations and of a commission of historians) and for the opening of the border between the two countries. 39. Conversation with State Department official and Congress official, October 2009 and November 2009, Washington. 40. Hurriyet Daily News, 5 March 2010. 41. Conversation with French diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 42. Interview with French journalist, Paris, and Greek diplomat, Washington, March 2010. 43. Remarks by a Commission official at the opening Conference of the Transatlantic Academy, ‘Trends in the American Strategic Debate on Turkey’, 24 September 2009, Washington. 44. ‘Turkey furious as EU stalls talks’, The Guardian, 30 September 2005. 45. Remarks by Ömer Taşpınar at a roundtable discussion at the Brookings Institution, 21 June 2010.

C ha p t e r 6 1. The March 1994 Washington Agreement enshrined the ceasefire between Bosnian and Croat forces and established the Bosnian-Croat federation, divided into ten autonomous cantons to prevent the domination of one ethnic community. The federation aimed at establishing a balance between Bosniaks and Croats on the one hand and Bosnian Serbs on the other. 2. Since December 2004, the US has retained a small military presence and headquarters in Sarajevo. 3. The Rambouillet accords called for the NATO administration of Kosovo as an autonomous entity in the FRY. The accords were signed by the US, the UK, and Albania but rejected by Serbia and Russia. 4. In those years, Turkey also played a critical role in Somalia, where UN forces were led by a Turkish general. 5. The BTC’s cost was estimated at $4 billion in 1999, due to the length of the 1,040mile pipeline across mountainous territory (Joseph 1999). 6. The climax of the US’s charm offensive on Azerbaijan was the visit of President Haider Aliev to the White House in August 1997. 7. That is, the Baku-Tbilisi-Erzurum gas pipeline and the Turkey-Greece Interconnector completed in 2008 and 2007 respectively. 8. Conversation with energy expert, March 2010, Washington. 9. Syria was forced to cede Hatay, the former Sanjak of Alexandretta, to Turkey by the French in 1939. 10. Syria, as a downstream nation, has always claimed water rights of the Euphrates River that flows through Turkey. It has accused Turkey of violating Syria’s water rights with the development of dams of the Southeastern Anatolian Project. 11. In 1987, Prime Minister Turgut Özal offered Syria 500 cubic metres of water per second from the Euphrates in return for cooperation over the PKK. In 1992, Turkish Foreign Minister Hikmet Cetin and Interior Minister Ismet Sezgin traveled to Damascus to negotiate a security protocol in which Syria would prohibit PKK activities. In November 1993, the security protocol was renewed. All these efforts, however, had no durable practical consequences. 184

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12. Turkey in turn increased the water flow to Syria to 900 cubic meters (Aras and Polat 2008, 509). 13. Alongside Norway, Italy, Switzerland, Denmark, and Sweden. 14. Conversation with former Israeli diplomat and negotiator, June 2010, Berlin. 15. In 2002, then Turkish Prime Minister Bülent Ecevit described Israel’s attack on Jenin as ‘genocide’. Most notoriously at the Davos World Economic Forum in January 2009, Erdoğan vehemently criticized his co-panelist Israeli President Shimon Peres for Israel’s war crimes committed during Operation Cast Lead in Gaza in December 2008–January 2009. 16. In response to Turkey’s cancellation of an invitation to Israel to participate in the joint military exercise ‘Anatolian Eagle’ and an episode of a Turkish TV series (Ayrılık) showing Israeli forces deliberately targeting Palestinian children, Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman declared that not even an ‘enemy country’ would dare act this way. Relations foundered further in January 2010 when Deputy Foreign Minister Danny Ayalon deliberately and publicly humiliated the Turkish Ambassador in Tel Aviv. 17. Conversation with Turkish academic, October 2009, Istanbul. 18. Including Turkey, Egypt, Iran, Jordan, Syria, and Saudi Arabia. The Conference of Iraq’s Neighbors drew from an aborted initiative by former Turkish Foreign Minister Ismail Cem to establish a Neighborhood Forum in order to ease tensions arising from the situation in Iraq in 1998. See Altunışık (2009, 186). 19. Interview with Syrian analyst, October 2009, Damascus. 20. Following the war, Kurdish riots erupted in northeast Syria in April 2004 and Syrian Kurds have increasingly called for more rights. Iran instead became subject to attacks by the PKK’s sister organization PJAK (Free Life in Kurdistan). Iran, as opposed to Turkey (and Syria), is agnostic (if not supportive) of the sectarianization of Iraq (entailing greater autonomy for the Shi’ite south). However, like Turkey and Syria, it resists an independent Iraqi Kurdistan. 21. As argued by Foreign Minister Davutoğlu (2009), the fallout for Turkey of an Israeli nuclear attack on Iran or an Iranian nuclear attack on Israel would be equally disastrous. Hence, Turkey’s repeated calls for a nuclear-free region and its objections to sanctioning Iran, which would hinder burgeoning commercial relations with its neighbor without accomplishing the desiderata of a nuclear-free Middle East. 22. Syria appreciated Turkey’s opening particularly at a time when Damascus was facing increasing isolation from the US through the December 2003 Syria Accountability Act, followed by broader American and European (and in particular French) accusations of Syria’s involvement in the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Refik Hariri in February 2005. 23. The Strategic Cooperation Council covers culture, economics, energy, transport, tourism, education, science, customs, defense, water, and the environment. It is presided by the two heads of state and government and includes regular ministerial meetings. 24. This was followed by key developments in 2009, including a visit to Turkey by Iraqi President Jalal Talebani in which he publicly opposed the creation of a Kurdish state and a visit to Baghdad by President Abdullah Gül, the first visit by a Turkish president since the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, in which he also held direct talks with President of the KRG Massoud Barzani. 25. This account was informed by interviews with Syrian, Israeli, and Turkish negotiators in the process, Damascus, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Istanbul, October 2009.

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26. Syria for the first time made a written territorial offer (six reference points on the map) on the Golan Heights, expecting an Israeli response. In turn Israel asked a set of security questions (related to Syria’s stance vis-à-vis Hamas, Hizballah, and Iran following a deal) to which Syria responded in written form yet in a manner deemed too vague by Israel. During his visit to Turkey on 23 December 2008, Israeli Prime Minister Olmert was expected to deliver written responses to the Syrian offer, which he did not, primarily for domestic political reasons. The two prime ministers allegedly had a five-hour long telephone conversation with Syrian President Assad. 27. Richard Falk, ‘Understanding the Gaza catastrophe’, Today’s Zaman, 4 January 2009. 28. While choosing not to exert any influence on Israel to ensure a ceasefire on its side. 29. ‘Turkey: The Star of Islam’, The Economist, December 14 1991. 30. Speech by Ibrahim Kalın at the New America Foundation, 8 December 2009, Washington. 31. Olli Rehn, ‘Brussels Must Offer the Balkans a Credible Future’, Financial Times, 3 April 2006. 32. Interview with Spanish diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 33. Leyla Boulton, ‘Nato Seeks to Reassure Turkey on EU Force Defence Initiative, Lord Robertson Says, Ankara Will Remain Strategically Important and Would Not Be Sidelined’, Financial Times, 24 November 2000. 34. Interview with Spanish diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 35. ‘German minister, EU official warn against Turkish participation in Iraq war’, BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 24 March 2003; Andrew Osborn, ‘International roundup: EU lifts Turkeys hopes’, The Guardian, 27 March 2003. 36. In a speech in December 2009, Turkish Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu emphasized how Turkish foreign policy was fully in line with the EU’s own foreign policy objectives insofar as it aimed at promoting a peaceful and multicultural neighborhood, it was consistent, and employed soft power resources (Davutoğlu 2009). This position was largely shared by a group of ambassadors at the Ambassadors Conference at the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 8 September 2010, Berlin. 37. Interview with Spanish diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 38. ‘Turkish PM speaks to Sarkozy on the phone’, Time Turk English, 7 January 2009. 39. ‘Turkey key to convincing Hamas on Gaza cease-fire’, Turkey NY.com, 20 January 2009. 40. Conversation with French diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 41. Conversations with Greek diplomat and Spanish diplomat, Washington, March 2010. 42. Wolfgang Schäuble, homepage, http://www.wolfgang-schaeuble.de/ (accessed June 2010). 43. Interviews with French scholar and journalist, Paris, March 2010. Conversation with British diplomat, March 2010, Washington. It should also be noted that French skepticism of Turkey’s mediation efforts between Israel and Syria was also due to France’s own mediation ambitions in the region. Interview with French journalist, March 2010, Paris. 44. The agreement between Turkey, Brazil, and Iran was brokered in May 2010 as the United US and the European members of the UN Security Council were attempting to rally support for a resolution on new sanctions on Iran. The agreement foresaw

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Iran’s depositing of 1,200 kg of low enriched uranium in Turkey in one installment, in exchange for the equivalent amount of fuel by the Vienna group (US, Russia, France, and the International Atomic Energy Agency) delivered within a year to Iran. European and American objections to the deal included the fact that Iran had proceeded with uranium enrichment since the swap was first proposed in the fall of 2009, the absence of a clear date by which the fuel would leave Iran, and the lack of clear future steps in the confidence-building process. 45. ‘Turchia: Frattini, Ue ha commesso errori nei confronti di Ankara’, ASCA, 10 June 2010. 46. Interviews with French scholar and journalist, March 2010, Paris. 47. Interviews with French scholar and French journalist, March 2010, Paris. Interview with Spanish diplomat, March 2010, Washington. Conversation with British diplomat, March 2010, Washington. 48. As stated by an Italian diplomat: ‘we start being worried about Turkey’s increasing independence. Turkey’s accession process must be saved, because it is like a bicycle, if it doesn’t move forward it inevitably falls’ (author’s translation). Email correspondence, May 2010. 49. Interview with Commission official, March 2010, Brussels. 50. Conversation with senior Commission official, June 2010, Washington. 51. Conversation with senior German diplomat, June 2010, Berlin. 52. The Russian-Ukrainian energy disputes affected the delivery of 80 percent of Russian supplies to EU member states, which transit through Ukraine. EU member states that were affected by the crisis include Austria, Germany, Greece, Italy, France, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, Slovenia, Bulgaria, and Romania. See ‘Reuters Fact Box: 18 countries affected by Russia-Ukraine Gas Row’, http://www.reuters.com/article/ idUKTRE5062Q520090107?sp=true (accessed March 2010). 53. Carl Bildt and Massimo D’Alema, ‘It’s time for a fresh effort’, New York Times, 31 August 2007. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/31/opinion/31iht-edbildt.4.7335844.html (accessed June 2010). 54. In 2003, the European Commission awarded a matching grant to finance half the costs of the feasibility studies for Nabucco. 55. Elitsa Vucheva, ‘Turkey may rethink Nabucco if EU talks stall’, EU Observer, 19 January 2009, http://euobserver.com/9/27431 (accessed January 2010). 56. Interview with Commission official, March 2010, Brussels. 57. Through prominent scholars such as Samuel Huntington, Fouad Ajami, and Bernard Lewis, among many others. 58. Bret Stephens, ‘What is happening to Turkey’, Wall Street Journal, 11 May 2010. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703674704575235141350028342.html (accessed January 2011). 59. Thomas Friedman, ‘Letter from Istanbul’, New York Times, 15 June 2010. http:// www.nytimes.com/2010/06/16/opinion/16friedman.html (accessed January 2011). 60. ‘Interview with President Assad’, Today’s Zaman, 15 September 2009. 61. Interviews with Syrian journalists, analysts and officials, Damascus, October 2009. 62. ‘Interview with Sarkozy’, International Herald Tribune, 31 January 2007.

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C ha p t e r 7 1. Interviews with Commission, Spanish, Italian, and British officials and diplomats, former Turkish diplomats, and former US officials, Brussels, Rome, and Washington, November 2009–May 2010. 2. Conversation with American academic and former State Department official, January 2010, Washington. 3. Conversation with French diplomat and analyst, March 2010, Washington and Paris. 4. Conversation with German, British, Italian, Spanish, and French diplomats, March–June 2010, Berlin, Washington, Rome, and Paris. 5. Conversation with a former Dutch MEP, April 2010, Oxford. 6. Conversation with Commission official, June 2010, Brussels.

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Abramowitz, Morton, 30, 31, 33, 84, 89, 111, 113, 118, 171 Abu Ghraib, human rights abuses, 140 Acheson, Dean, 105 Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (AKP), xi, xiii, 4, 30, 42, 54, 57, 108, 116, 126, 140, 152, 168 Adana Agreement, xii, 134, 136 Afghanistan, 16, 26, 33, 35, 38, 39, 44, 89, 106, 108, 110 Agip (oil company), 149 Ahtisaari, Martti O. K., 86 AKP. See Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi al-Assad, Bashar, 136–137 al-Assad, Hafez, 133, 136 Albania, 130, 144 Alliance of Civilizations, 21, 126, 152 American Israeli Public Affairs Committee, 43 American Jewish Committee, 43 Ananicz, Andrzej, 53, 55, 60 Anatolia, 25, 104, 111 Ankara Agreement (1963), xi, xiii, 2, 3, 80, 92–93, 152 Annan Plan, xiii, 5, 30, 41, 121, 122, 124, 166, 171 Anti-Americanism: European, 91; Turkish, 113–115, 127 Anti-Defamation League, 43 Anti-Europeanism, US, 32–33 Anti-Terror Law, Turkey, 80, 115 Arab-Israeli peace process, 134–135 Arbeitsgemeinschaft der öffentlich-rechtlichen Rundfunkanstalten der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (ARD), 68

Armenia: Diaspora, 43, 70, 72, 159; genocide (1915), 16, 37, 43, 65, 72, 105, 109, 122, 123; and EU-Turkey relations, 70, 72, 122; normalization of relations with Turkey, xiv, 30, 35, 41, 43, 70, 122, 123; Turkish-Armenian Protocols, xiv, 123; Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation Commission, 15, 123, 124, 159, 166; and US-Turkey relations, xiii, 15–16, 37, 39, 41, 43, 105, 109, 110, 123, 166 Association Agreement, EEC-Turkey (1963). See Ankara Agreement ATAKA (Bulgarian right-wing nationalist party), 65 Atatürk, 93 Austria: Austrian Freedom Party (FPÖ), 65, 72; EU accession, 48–49; the Greens, 65; and Turkey´s EU accession, 65, 66, 71, 73, 81, 83; and Turkish immigration, 58, 61, 69, 71, 72 Azerbaijan, 131, 139, 149, 150; Azerbaijan International Oil Consortium, 149; Shah Deniz, 149 Aznar, José M., 144 Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline (BTC), xiii, 107, 131–132, 148–149, 167 Barroso, José M. D., 53, 87, 149 Batman, military base, 27 Belgium, 112, 122 Bildt, Carl, 51, 149 Blair, British Prime Minister Tony, 81, 100, 144 Blue Stream pipeline, 132 Boğazici University. See Robert College Borghezio, Mario, 65

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Bosnia, 12, 44, 49, 128–130, 142–144, 167 Bosnian-Croat federation, 129, 130 Bourlanges, Jean-Louis, 59 British Petroleum (BP), 148, 149 Brookings Institution, 42 Bryza, Mathew, 37 Bulgaria: ATAKA, 65; EU accession, 55, 144; and Turkey’s EU accession, 73 Burns, Nicholas, 81 Bush, George H. W., 26, 116 Bush, George W., 13, 16, 78, 83, 85, 90, 91, 99, 101, 114, 115, 122, 123, 139, 140, 163; Bush administration, 28, 29, 32, 33, 45, 82, 89, 100, 108 Cameron, David, 146 Carter, Jimmy, 26 Cem, Ismail, 125 Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), 42 Central Command of the US Department of Defense (CENTCOM), 38, 39, 109 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 140 Centre for European Policy Studies (CEPS), 67 Centre for European Reform (UK), 67 Charter of Fundamental Rights, EU, 120 Chirac, Jacques R., 82, 83, 86, 99 Christian minority rights, Turkey, 68–69 Cipriani, Giorgio, 67 ‘Clash of civilizations’ thesis, 19–20, 57, 75–76, 100, 125, 150–152, 154, 160, 164 Clinton, Hillary, 29, 117, 123 Clinton, Bill, xiii, 13, 27, 28, 45, 81, 82, 97, 100, 107, 116, 117, 123, 131, 138, 139, 162; Clinton administration, 40, 78, 80, 89, 100, 116, 129, 131, 148 Cold War era, 25–26, 32–33, 92–94, 105–106, 151–152; ‘containment’ of the Soviet Union, 26, 44, 93, 106, 111 Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP), 35, 54, 142, 143; EUFOR Althea (Bosnia), 129 Confederation of European Businesses, 6, 66 Confindustria, 66 208

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Council of Europe, xi, 120, 125 Council on Foreign Relations (US), 42 Cox, Pat, 83 Croatia, 48–49, 144 Cuban Missile Crisis (1962), xi, 106 Cumhuriyetçi Halk Partisi (CHP), xi, xii, 125 Customs Union Agreement (1995), 2–3, 80, 82, 89, 92, 94, 115, 118, 119, 121, 162 Cyprus: and Annan Plan (see Annan Plan); and EU-NATO cooperation, 35; and EU-Turkey relations, 3, 5, 61, 85, 120–121; Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, 3, 43, 62, 120; and US-Turkey relations, 121–122, 166 Cyprus, Republic of, xi, 5, 62, 121, 159; EU accession, 49, 81, 82, 120; and Turkey´s EU accession, 62, 72, 73, 81, 121 Czech Republic, 149 D’Alema, Massimo, 149 Davutoğlu, Ahmet, 123, 126, 130, 137, 138, 141 Dayr al Zur, 137 Dayton Accords, xii, 129, 130 Demirel, Süleyman, 130, 133 Democratic Society Party. See Demokratik Toplum Partisi Demokratik Toplum Partisi (DTP), 117 Denmark: Dansk Folksparti, 65; Dansk Industri, 66; Socialistisk Folkeparti, 65; and Turkey’s EU accession, 65, 74; and Turkish immigration, 101 de Soto, Alvaro, 122 de Villiers, Philippe, 56 Dicks, Norman D., 40 Discursive frames: civilizational discourse, 19–21, 40, 100–103, 150–153, 160–161; geostrategic discourse, 18–19, 92–97, 156–158; liberal discourse, 19, 97–99 Discursive power. See Power, discursive Domestic reforms, in Turkey: and transatlantic debates on Turkey, 158–159; and Turkey’s EU accession, 62–63, 79–80, 118–120, 125; and US-Turkey relations, 34–35, 37, 39, 79–80, 116–117, 118–120

Eastern Partnership, 122 Ecevit, Bülent, 82 Economist, 139 Egypt, 111, 112, 137, 138 Eisenstadt, Stuart, 80 Energy security: and EU-Turkey relations, 53, 74–75, 148–150, 156–158; and US-Turkey relations, 53, 131–132, 148–150, 156–158 Enlargement, EU, 48–49, 81; Eastern, 18, 34, 48, 54, 74, 95, 118, 163, 168, 170; ‘Enlargement fatigue’, 56, 95; Northern, 18, 48; Southern, 18, 48 Erdoğan, Recep T., 82, 83, 109, 135, 141, 152 EU Institute for Security Studies (EUISS), 67 Euphrates, 133 European borders and identity, 10, 12, 58–59, 74, 76, 99, 145, 160–161, 164, 168 European Command of the US Department of Defense (EUCOM), 39 European Convention on Human Rights, Council of Europe, 120 European Council: 1997 Luxembourg summit, 3, 50, 81; 1999 Helsinki summit, xiii, 4, 50, 81–82, 117–118; 2002 Copenhagen summit, xiii, 4, 50, 82 European debates on Turkey, and: the accession process, 50; domestic interests and contact with Turkey, 72–73; energy security, 53; the EU budget, 60; EU foreign policy, 53–54; the EU’s global role, 51–52; the EU’s identity, 57–60; EU institutions, 54–56; the European public opinion, 56–57; the global economy, 52–53; immigration, 61; national security, 61–62; Turkey’s reform process, 62–63 European Economic Community (EEC), xi, 2 European Neighbourhood Policy, 122, 144, 146 European People´s Party (EPP), 15 European Policy Centre, 67 European stakeholders on Turkey: business, 66–67; churches, 68–69; Diaspo-

ras, 69–70; EU institutions, 64; media, 68; political parties, 65–66; professional associations, 67; think tanks, 67–68; trade unions, 67 Euroskepticism, 21, 56, 94 Erbakan, Necmettin, xii,117 Falk, Richard, 137 Federalists, European, 55–56, 76 Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY), 129 Financial Times, 68 Finland, 72, 74 Fischer, German Foreign Minister Joschka, 51, 72 Fox, Liam, 54 France: Fédération Nationale des Syndicats d’Exploitants Agricoles, 67; French Armenians, 70, 72, 159; Mouvement pour la France, 65; and Turkey’s EU accession, 5, 58, 66, 70, 74, 84, 88, 102, 113, 122, 146–147; and Turkish immigration, 101, 122 Frattini, Franco, 147 Freedom of expression, Turkey, 37, 80, 116, 159 Gates, Robert, 87 Gaza, xiv, 41, 135, 137, 138, 146 Georgia, 131 German Marshall Fund, 42 Germany: Christian Democratic Parties (CDU/CSU), 65, 66, 91; and Turkey’s EU accession, 71, 74, 81, 90–91, 102, 113, 147; and Turkish immigration, 61, 65, 71, 74, 101 Giscard d‘Estaing, Valéry, 59, 94, 96 Glion, Switzerland, 121 Glos, Michael, 101 Gordon, Philip H., 24–25, 31 Greece: Greek Popular Orthodox Party (LAOS), 65; Greek-Turkish rapprochement, 30, 40, 81; Greek Socialist Party (PASOK), 81; and Turkey’s EU accession, 61, 62, 65, 73, 81, 102, 121, 122 Grgic, Borut, 53 Grossman, Mark, 32, 34, 40, 80, 81

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Guantanamo Bay detention camp, 140, 151 Gül, Abdullah, 36, 41, 109, 116, 140 Gulf War (1990–91), xii, 27, 44, 78, 87, 90, 106, 107, 112, 132–133, 135, 138, 161; Haas, Richard, 85 Habur, 145 Hallstein, Walter, 93 Hamas, 30, 137, 138, 154, 168 Hannay, David, 122 Hatay, province of, 133 Hirsch Ballin, Ernst M. H., 59 Hizbollah, 30, 137 Holbrooke, Richard, 40, 44, 45, 80, 121 Hudson Institute, 42 Huntington, Samuel P., 19, 20, 30, 125 Hungary, 53, 112, 149 Hussein, Saddam, 78, 107, 165 Ideational power. See Power, ideational Incirlik air base, Turkey, 38, 107, 108, 133 Institut du Bosphore, 66 Institut Français des Relations Internationales, 67 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 26, 111 Intifada, second, 134 Iran: Iranian gas, 131, 132, 150; Iranian revolution, 26, 38, 132; nuclear dossier, 136, 146, 165; Iraq war (2003), xiii; and EU-Turkey relations, 12, 90, 113–115, 145–146, 168; and US-Turkey relations, 12, 14, 33, 38–39, 40, 87, 90, 108–110, 113–115, 135–136, 165 Islam, Turkey: and the EU’s identity, 57–58, 61, 75, 100–103, 153; and Turkey as a bridge to the Islamic world, 126; and Turkey‘s EU accession, 100–103, 147, 152–153, 165; and Turkish immigration in Europe, 57–58, 68, 75, 101; and Turkey as a model, 28–29, 30, 40, 139; and the US ‘buffer state argument’, 26–27 Islamism, Turkey, 26, 98, 150 Istanbul, 62, 81, 104, 131, 117, 125, 139, 149 Istituto Affari Internazionali (Italy), 67 210

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Italy: Lega Nord, 65; Rifondazione Comunista, 65; and Turkey’s EU accession, 61, 62, 64, 65, 74, 90, 102, 122, 165; Union of Christian Democrats (UDC), 65 Izetbegovic, Alija, 130 Jordan, 16, 112, 134, 138, 147 Kalın, Ibrahim, 141 Kazakhstan, 131 Kemal, Mustafa. See Atatürk Kirkuk-Ceyhan oil pipeline, 131 Kıvrıkoğlu, Hüseyin, 133 Kohl, Helmut J. M., 72, 81 Kolbe, James T., 40 Kosovo, 12, 44, 89, 128–130, 143–144, 167 Kramer, Heinz, 147 Kurds: and EU-Turkey relations, 49, 120, 122; in Iraq, 107, 109–110, 114, 135–136; Kurdish Regional Government (KRG), 136, 146; Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), xiii, 16, 39, 99, 107, 109, 120, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 167; and US-Turkey relations, 16, 30, 39, 115, 116, 119–120, 123–124, 166–167, 171 Lebanon war (2006), 137, 138 Lichtenberger, Eva, 65–66 Lisbon Treaty. See Treaty of Lisbon Markale, massacres of, 129 Marshall Plan, xi, 105 Material power. See Power, material McGhee, George C., 92, 93 Mediation, in Turkey: between Israel and Hamas, 137–38, 168; between Israel and Syria, xiv, 137, 168 Meriç/Maritsa river, 145 Merkel, Angela D., 97, 101, 102, 145 Meshal, Khaled, 138 Middle East Institute, 42 Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı, 38 Milliyet, 39 Moisi, Dominique, 101 Montezemolo, Luca C. di, 66 Montreux Convention, 105

Morgenthau, Henry, 13, 105 Morningstar, Richard, 131 Nabucco gas pipeline, 53, 132, 149, 150, 167; Nabucco Intergovernmental Agreement, 150 Nagorno-Karabakh, 70, 122, 123, 124, 131, 166 NATO: membership, Turkey, 25, 30, 92–93, 95, 105–106; implementation Force in Bosnia (IFOR), 129, 130; International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan (ISAF), 108, 110; Istanbul Cooperative Initiative, 139; Kosovo Force (KFOR), 129, 130; Operation Deliberative Force, xii, 129, 130; Stabilization Force in Bosnia (SFOR), 129, 130 Near East Institute, 116 Netherlands, the, 61, 71, 112, 147 Obama, Barack H., 15, 31, 84, 88, 90, 91, 99, 102, 110, 123, 164, 172; Obama administration, 29, 45, 88, 117 Öcalan, Abdullah, xiii, 68, 107, 119, 120, 133, 134 Olmert, Ehud, 137 Operation Cast Lead (2008–2009), 137, 146 Organization of the Islamic Conference, 125, 130, 140 OSCE, 107, 116, 125; Istanbul Summit (1999), xiii, 81, 117, 131, 149; Minsk Group, 122, 123, 131, 166 Ottoman empire, 104–105 Öymen, Onur, 125 Özal, Turgut, 26, 27, 39, 78, 134, 142, 161 Pakistan, 26 Palestinian National Authority, 134 Parris, Mark, 44, 81 Patten, Christopher F., 100 Peace Implementation Council, 130 Phillips, David, 95, 123 Płoski, Tadeusz, 68 Poland: EU accession, 48–49; Law & Justice (party), 65; and Turkey’s EU accession, 64, 65, 72, 74–75, 90, 112, 149

Polenz, Ruprecht, 101 Policy suggestions, 170–173 Pope, Benedict XVI, 68 Portugal, 102, 113 Power: discursive, 16–22, 91–103, 124–126, 150–153, 169; ideational, 12–16, 84–91, 115–124, 148–150, 169; material, 11–12, 110–115, 142–148, 169; soft, 13, 163 ‘Privileged partnership’ between the EU and Turkey, 66, 96, 97, 125 Prodi, Romano, 145 Putin, Vladimir V., 149 Rambouillet accords (1999), 129 Rasmussen, Anders Fogh, 82, 99 Real Istituto Elcano, Spain, 67 Rehn, Olli I., 52, 56, 100, 143 Republika Srupska, 129 Rice, Condoleezza, 28, 36 , 83, 109, Richardson, Bill, 131 Robert College, 104 Romania, 14, 53, 54, 73, 91, 112, 144, 149 Rumi Forum, 41 Rumsfeld, Donald H., 90, Russia: and energy, 131–132, 148, 149, 150; and Turkey’s neighbourhood, 27, 30, 35, 53, 122, 141 Santoro, Andrea, 68 Sarajevo, 130 Sarkozy, Nicolas, 5, 59, 61, 88, 99, 102, 145, 146, 147, 153 Sarrazin, Thilo, 61 Saudi Arabia, 26 Schäuble, Wolfgang, 86, 95, 147 Schaus, Eugène, 93 Schengen system (EU), 147 Schröder, Gerhard F. K., 51, 81 Sezer, Ahmet N., 136 Simon, Hyppolite, 68 Shalit, Gilad, 137, 138 Siyaset Ekonomi ve Toplum Araştırmaları Vakfı (SETA), 41 Single European Act (1986), xii, 79, 95 Slovenia and Turkey´s EU accession, 72, 74, 149

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211

Solana de Madariaga, Javier, 82, 90 South Stream Project (Russia), 132, 150, 167 Spain: EU accession, 48–49; and Turkey’s EU accession, 61, 62, 64, 102, 113, 126, 165 Strategic culture, US and Turkey, 45–46 Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (Germany), 67 Srebrenica, massacres of, 129, 130 Süddeutsche Zeitung, 68 Sulemaniyeh, 109 Sweden, 62, 72, 122, 149 Talbott, Strobe, 81, 86, 98, 116 Torture, in Turkey, 37, 80, 116, 119, 163 TotalfinaElf (oil company), 149 Tudjman, Franjo, 130 Turkic-American Alliance, 41 Türk İşbirliği ve Kalkınma İdaresi Başkanlığı (TIKA), 110, 140, 141 Turkish Chambers of Commerce. See Türkiye Odalar ve Borsalar Birliği Turkish Confederation of Businessmen and Industrialists. See Türkiye İşadamları ve Sanayiciler Konfederasyonu Turkish Development Agency. See Türk İşbirliği ve Kalkınma İdaresi Başkanlığı Turkish foreign policy: and democracy promotion, 140; and energy security, 132; ‘strategic depth’ doctrine, 141–142, 147; Turkish-Israeli relations, 30–31, 39, 41, 43, 134–135; Turkish-Iranian relations, 30–31, 136; Turkish-Iraqi relations, 30–31, 136;Turkish-Syrian relations, 30–31, 133–136; Western Balkans, 129–130 Turkish Foundation for Political, Economic and Social Research. See Siyaset Ekonomi ve Toplum Araştırmaları Vakfı Turkish Grand National Assembly (TGNA), xiii, 28, 107, 108, 113–114, 116–117 Turkish Industrialists and Businessmen Association. See Türk Sanayicileri ve İşadamları Derneği Turkish Justice and Development Party. See Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi 212

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Turkish National Intelligence Organization. See Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı Turkish Republican People’s Party. See Cumhuriyetçi Halk Partisi Turkish straits, 105, 106, 131 Turkish-US Business Council, 42 Türkiye Ekonomik ve Sosyal Etüdler Vakfı (TESEV), 140 Türkiye İşadamları ve Sanayiciler Konfederasyonu (TUSKON), 42 Türkiye Odalar ve Borsalar Birliği (TOBB), 42 Türk Sanayicileri ve İşadamları Derneği (TÜSİAD), 42 Transatlantic debates on Turkey, fits and misfits, 5–7; Armenia, 159; civilizational discourse, 160–161; Cyprus, 159–160; domestic reforms, Turkey (see Domestic reforms, in Turkey); EU institutions, borders, identity, budget, public opinion, 160–161; geostrategy, 156–158; Kurds, 158–159 Treaty of Amsterdam (1997), 95 Treaty of Lausanne (1930), 105 Treaty of Lisbon (2009), xiv, 95 Treaty of Maastricht (1993), xii, 95 Treaty of Nice (2000), 95 Treaty of Sèvres (1920), 105, 113, 115, 148, 167 Tripartite Alliance (1939), 105 Troutbeck, New York, 121 Truman, Harry S., 92, 105 Truman Doctrine, xi, 25, 92 Ukraine, 19, 132, 149 United Kingdom: and Turkey´s EU accession, 61, 62, 64, 65, 72, 81, 90, 102, 113, 165 United Nations, xi, 125; and Annan Plan (see Annan Plan); mandate, 108, 129, 143; Security Council, 121, 147 US advocacy for Turkey´s EU accession, 77–103; and broader transatlantic relations, 89–91; and European reactions, 84–103; and legitimacy of the US in Europe, 89–91; style of American advocacy, 84–88

US debates on Turkey: as a bridge, 27–28; as a buffer, 25–27; Turkey’s EU accession, 31–35; as an independent actor, 29–31; as a model, 28–20 US foreign policy: and broader Middle East Initiative, 139; and democracy promotion, 138–140; and North Africa Initiative, 139 US influence on EU-Turkey relations: direct, 9, 77–103, 169; indirect, through Turkey, 9–10, 104–127, 169; indirect, through the neighbourhood, 10, 169, 128–154, 169; and power (see power). US stakeholders on Turkey: business, 41–42; Congress, 39–41; Department of Defense, 38–39; Department of State, 36–38; lobbies, 42–43; think tanks, 42 US strategic interests, Turkey, 44–45 US-Turkey Defense and Economic Cooperation Agreement (1980), 38, 106 US-Turkey relations: and democracy promotion, 138–140; and energy policy, 131–132; historical evolution of, 104–110; and the 2003 Iraq war (see Iraq war (2003)); and the Middle East, 132–138;

and power. (see power); and the Western Balkans, 129–130 Uzbekistan, 131 Van Rompuy, Herman A., 57 Vedrine, Hubert, 90 Verheugen, Günter, 83, 86, 146 Visa policy, Turkey, 140, 147, 168 Voggenhuber, Johannes, 65 Washington Agreement (1994), 130 Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 42 Weizsäcker, Richard, K. von, 90 Weston, Thomas, 122 Wexler, Robert, 40, 87 Wolfowitz, Paul D., 28, 39, 85, 139 Yalman, Aytaç, 39 Yeltsin, Boris N., 148 Yılmaz, Mesut, 116, 133 Zapatero, José L. R., 125 Zenica, 130 Zweites Deutsches Fernsehen (ZDF), 68

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About the Author

Nat ha l i e To c c i is deputy director of the Istituto Affari Internazionali in Rome, Italy, and author or editor of many books, including The EU, Civil Society and Conflict, Cyprus: A Conflict at the Crossroads (with T. Diez), and The EU and Conflict Resolution: Promoting Peace in the Backyard.

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