Seyhan Bayraktar (*)
The existing literature on the denial of
the Armenian Genocide of 1915 tends to concentrate on either the
Turkish state’s policies or the civil society’s increasing
openness to alternative readings of the event. In my opinion, both
approaches reduce denialism to an ensemble of political practices and defense
mechanisms of Turkey by prioritizing the role of the state as agent of
genocide denial. Although the state is indeed a dominant actor of
denialism, to juxtapose state and society means to overlook the intrinsic power of the discourse and its pervasiveness across
different—at times even competing—social and political settings. Recent
literature conveys how shortsighted it is to attribute denial only to
the Turkish state. The fact that descendants of former perpetrators have
vivid memories of Armenians being killed by their ancestors has led
some to conclude that the “Turkish government is denying a genocide that
its own population [in contrast] remembers”. Such an equation between
social memory and genocide acknowledgment is problematic, however, as it is
the tendency in recent literature to evaluate the current memory boom
about the Armenian Genocide as an indicator of a true critical discourse.
Hence, the debate surrounding the denial of the Armenian Genocide tends
to underestimate the contested character of the concept of genocide in the Turkish political
discourse and to undermine the importance of the almost
century-long political struggle of the victims for genocide recognition.
My own research on the rhetoric surrounding the Armenian Genocide in Turkey during “critical discourse moments” between 1973 and 2005 has shown that the quantitative increment of the discourse does not necessarily indicate a paradigmatic shift toward self-critical discourse in which the needs of the victims have priority over national identity. On the contrary, the denial produced by the state and its agencies in the 1970s and 1980s has not ceased gaining sophistication. While the state has adopted new strategies to counter international genocide recognition–e.g. proposing a Turkish–Armenian history commission, announcing the restoration of Armenian cultural places, or developing and football diplomacy–discourse frames invented for political purposes–namely, the so-called “Armenian terrorism”-have proven particularly pervasive. Indeed, not only they have survived over time, but they have also reached an increasingly wide range of social and political actors. I will show that the denial of the Armenian Genocide has taken a sophisticated turn that determines the boundaries of Turkish–Armenian interactions by giving a brief overview of the different stages of denial and of the structures and key patterns in public and political memory that have dominated the debate on the genocide topic. Most importantly, I will link this discourse to the material context of Turkey’s foreign relations, particularly with the European Union (EU) in the early 2000s, when the pressure over Turkey to address its past reached an unprecedented peak.
Before doing this, however, I want to
clarify some fundamental principles of my approach. In studying genocide denial,
I adopt the post-structuralist position that discourses—in this case, memorial
patterns about the Armenian Genocide in Turkish society and politics—are
not epiphenomena of politics, but key elements in the production
and reproduction of power structures. Both access to discourse and control and selection of discursive patterns are both derivation and source of power relations. However, following Ole Wæver, I adopt a softer interpretation of the relationship between discourse and actors than the one defined in post-structuralist discourse analysis. While the latter
assumes that discourses are prior to actors in the sense that speaking subjects
do not exist outside discourse, the present study conceptualizes
discursive structures as they are produced, reproduced, or transformed through a practice between actors. Applied to the study of the denial of the
Armenian Genocide, this means that the existing discourse frames about the
Armenian Genocide (regardless of their origin) and Turkey’s politics of
the past together (a) determine the range of possibilities of how to
frame the destruction of the Armenians, and (b) at the same time, they are
themselves dependent on actors producing them. It is this kind of “linguistic
structuration” that allows discourses to evolve.
Prior to the turn of the millennium—though particularly in the 1970s and 1980s—remembrance of the 1915 genocide occurred almost exclusively as a reaction to external triggers in the form of political pressure. The memory politics of diaspora Armenians (whether militant attacks on Turkish state representatives or political mobilization for recognition of the genocide, particularly in the United States) and international debates about genocide recognition not only raised awareness about the genocide worldwide, but also made it impossible for Turkey to avoid the topic. Consequently, this phase of Turkish denial is marked by its reactive rather than proactive character. On one side, “Armenian terrorism” became then the only and systematic explanation for Armenian attacks on Turkish officials; on the other, clear attempts at distinguishing between Armenians in Turkey—“our Armenians”—and “revengeful” Armenians in the diaspora were noticeable. The need to explicitly differentiate between inside Armenians (“our Armenians”) and “diaspora Armenians” in the Turkish print media in the 1970s was accompanied by calls to stay cool and not repeat the violence of September 6 and 7, 1955, when state-orchestrated riots in Istanbul targeted the Greek and the non-Muslim population, respectively. In this early phase of the discourse, political exchanges between Turks and Armenians in Turkey’s public space were nonexistent. Because of its highly vulnerable position, the Armenian community of Turkey remained unseen and did not actively take part in the discourse about its own historical experience and destruction. Instead, the patriarch represented the community in the public arena and, in the instances when Turkish diplomats were killed by Armenians, offered his condolences in its name. This pattern of Turkish–Armenian relations in Turkey, where Armenians were invisible in the public arena, only began to crack around the year 2000.
Prior to the turn of the millennium—though particularly in the 1970s and 1980s—remembrance of the 1915 genocide occurred almost exclusively as a reaction to external triggers in the form of political pressure. The memory politics of diaspora Armenians (whether militant attacks on Turkish state representatives or political mobilization for recognition of the genocide, particularly in the United States) and international debates about genocide recognition not only raised awareness about the genocide worldwide, but also made it impossible for Turkey to avoid the topic. Consequently, this phase of Turkish denial is marked by its reactive rather than proactive character. On one side, “Armenian terrorism” became then the only and systematic explanation for Armenian attacks on Turkish officials; on the other, clear attempts at distinguishing between Armenians in Turkey—“our Armenians”—and “revengeful” Armenians in the diaspora were noticeable. The need to explicitly differentiate between inside Armenians (“our Armenians”) and “diaspora Armenians” in the Turkish print media in the 1970s was accompanied by calls to stay cool and not repeat the violence of September 6 and 7, 1955, when state-orchestrated riots in Istanbul targeted the Greek and the non-Muslim population, respectively. In this early phase of the discourse, political exchanges between Turks and Armenians in Turkey’s public space were nonexistent. Because of its highly vulnerable position, the Armenian community of Turkey remained unseen and did not actively take part in the discourse about its own historical experience and destruction. Instead, the patriarch represented the community in the public arena and, in the instances when Turkish diplomats were killed by Armenians, offered his condolences in its name. This pattern of Turkish–Armenian relations in Turkey, where Armenians were invisible in the public arena, only began to crack around the year 2000.
The following example is highly
illustrative, for it shows not only the uncritical use of the frame in
the context of Turkish–Armenian relations, but also its apparent
acceptability far beyond Turkish state and nationalist circles: as
Turkish public intellectuals organized the “Apology Campaign” in 2008,
nationalists organized a counter-campaign demanding an apology from Armenians.
Such a reaction—though reversing the perpetrator–victim relationship
and confusing historical cause–effect processes—was relatively
unsurprising to anyone following the highly tense issue of genocide in
Turkey. But, surprisingly, one of the main organizers of the “Apology Campaign,” the
well-known intellectual Baskın Oran, also argued in favor of a
public apology by Armenians for the crimes of the Armenian Secret Army
of the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA). Oran reasoned that such an apology
would have an immense effect on the growing critical awareness in
Turkey about the genocide and would contribute to Turkish-Armenian
reconciliation. Thus, he equated the need for Turkey to come to terms
with the Armenian Genocide, a foundational event in the creation of
modern Turkey, with Armenians’ coming to terms with the violence of a
terrorist organization. The equation of different instances of violence
involves the risk of them justifying one another. In the case of the
Armenian Genocide, such an equation is but another indicator of how even
the most progressive Turkish actors use the state invented denial frame
of “Armenian terrorism” without taking into account Turkey’s lack of a critical historical regard of the past and the lasting effects of the
genocidal process on Armenians.
The years 2000–2002 were a period of
transition during which the “Armenian issue” gradually became part of
everyday political debate in Turkey. The main difference between this
stage of denial and the previous one was that the destruction of the
Armenians - as well as that of other groups in the Ottoman Empire, such
as the Assyrians - was increasingly dealt with independently of specific and concrete external
triggers. In this phase, Turkey also began to revise its politics of the
past, for its conventional approach to the problem, centered on
security and terrorism, had not halted international recognition of the
genocide. France’s genocide resolution in 2001 led Turkey to rethink its
politics vis-a-vis the Republic of Armenia. After having practiced a
politics of putting pressure on Armenia by isolating it, Ankara started a
cautious rapprochement by encouraging low-profile contacts on the level
of civil society and easing visa regulations for citizens of the
Republic of Armenia. In so doing, Turkey aimed at bypassing the
political efforts of the Armenian diaspora. However, neither the
politics of isolation nor the politics of rapprochement produced the
results that Turkey sought: they did not prevent further genocide
acknowledgments or halt the Republic of Armenia from advocating for other international declarations.
Then comes the phase in which the Armenian Genocide became part of everyday political communication with the 90th
anniversary of the genocide, as well as the most critical year in
Turkey’s EU accession process—when the EU would decide whether to start
accession talks with Turkey. After Turkey had become an official EU
candidate in 1999, an intense debate had started in some EU member
states, first and foremost France and Germany, over Turkey's eligibility. In this context, Turkey’s
problematic relationship with the genocide was crucial for critics
convinced that the country was not European enough. On the institutional
level, the European Parliament, which approves the membership of
candidate countries, reconfirmed its genocide resolution of 1987 at
critical junctures, such as in 2000, 2002, and 2005, thereby maintaining constant pressure on Turkey. Hence, between 1999 and 2005 acknowledgment of
the Armenian Genocide or at least a self-critical reflection on the past became an
informal criteria for Turkey’s EU entry. Against the backdrop of the debate on the Armenian Genocide throughout European countries, the Turkish
government made tactical concessions to counter the international
pressure. A few weeks before the ninetieth anniversary of the genocide,
Prime Minister Erdogan contacted Armenian President Kocharian,
suggesting a joint Armenian-Turkish history commission. The government
also announced the restoration of Armenian cultural and religious
monuments. The renovation of the Holy Cross Church in Lake Van, for
example, was announced as a step both to improve Armenian–Turkish
relations and to counter official genocide recognition throughout the world. With
these policy initiatives, Turkey achieved two things: it signaled
openness in terms of its contested history reading of 1915; and, at the same
time, it depoliticized the issue by delegating it to so-called
“experts.” This new strategy was applauded internationally. The
Independent Commission on Turkey, for example, a group of high-ranking
EU politicians, welcomed Turkey’s move while criticizing Armenia for not
responding positively to it. The signs of an opening were further
fueled by breaking news in 2005: three of Turkey’s most renowned
universities announced the organization of an “Armenian
conference” that would step outside the confines of the Turkish
nationalist narrative on the Armenian Genocide. But within a few days the
organizers—representing the established Turkish academia—met with major
opposition and political pressure. In a parliamentary speech, Justice Minister Cemil Ciçek accused them of “backstabbing the nation.” As a
consequence, the hosting university decided to postpone the conference.
The second attempt at realizing the
conference also encountered major obstacles when a court decided to halt
it. This time, however, the same Justice Minister who had criticized
the conference as a traitorous project provided the necessary clue to circumvent the court’s decision, namely, by changing the location
of the conference. Other leading members of the government, such as
Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül,
also spoke in favor of the conference. Behind the scenes the government
pushed for its realization before the EU summit in October 2005, where
the EU would decide whether to start formal accession talks with Turkey.
Thanks to this backing of the government, the conference finally took place
on 24–25 September 2005. The timing of the conference is already a solid
indicator that it served Turkey’s interests and its EU bid. In
their public statements, the organizers of the conference also stressed
exactly the same point: that the conference would ultimately serve
Turkey and “be one of the most significant steps taken in our country on
the path . . . toward democracy.” In a joint declaration, they stressed
that the “demonstration of how Turkey actually contains . . . a rich
multiplicity of thoughts would be . . . to the utmost benefit of
Turkey”. Hence, the organizers and supporters of the conference not only
strongly rejected the accusation that they were traitors and harming
Turkey, they also reversed it. In this sense, the counter discourse of
Turkish progressives itself relied on a strongly nationalist logic and
rhetoric. These vocal actors surrounding the conference did not express
the intrinsic need to come to terms with the past as such, beyond the
question of its possible benefits for Turkey. Such shortcomings of the
2005 controversy over the “Armenian conference” and the
denial of the Armenian Genocide, respectively, have been largely ignored
so far. Instead, the conference is predominantly referred as a
pathbreaking moment in Turkish–Armenian relations and, particularly, in the process of Turkey's coming to
terms with its history.
Meanwhile, since 2005 Turkish–Armenian
encounters have considerably intensified on a variety of levels. We have
witnessed an interim, tension-fraught rapprochement between the two
states (soccer diplomacy, Turkish–Armenian protocols, etc.), as well as
numerous encounters between Turks and Armenians from Turkey and from the
diaspora. On the occasion of the one hundredth anniversary of the
genocide in April 2015, a remarkable number of diaspora Armenians,
together with public intellectuals, human rights activists, and civil
societal organizations from Turkey, chose to commemorate the genocide at
different sites in Turkey. These joint memory efforts and the
unprecedented wave of public commemoration of the genocide within Turkey
carried particularly strong symbolic vibes, suggesting a new quality in
Turkish–Armenian civil societal relations. Paradoxically enough,
although such encounters are important, they do not necessarily signify a
meaningful confrontation with the past on the part of the successors of
the perpetrators. Turkey’s rhetoric around the time of the centennial
became, if anything, more extreme in its denialism. Yet the form,
content, and messages surrounding various commemorations revealed how
difficult it is to confront the sophistication of denial and pave the
way for reconciliation that addresses critical issues such as justice
and restitution.
Therefore, it remains to be seen to what
extent these encounters between Turks and Armenians from the Diaspora
are based on the same language and a common understanding of the
historical—and ultimately contemporary—dynamics of Turkish–Armenian
relations. Taking into consideration that the 2005 “Armenian
conference” has never been questioned in terms of its assumed
ground-breaking effects—least of all by the organizing academics and
their supporters—it seems that Turkish–Armenian encounters, dialogue,
and reconciliation are but a black box. Once opened, this box will
likely reveal that the feel-good, symbolic vibes of such encounters have
overshadowed the fact that genocide denial has adjusted well to memory,
commemoration, and to Armenian–Turkish civil societal co-resistance to
such denial.
"Repair" (repairfuture.net), December 16, 2016
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(*) Edited by "Armeniaca."
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