TURKEY IS WASHINGTON’S PUREST TEST OF REALISM V. IDEALISM.
by Christopher Beam

New Republic, DC
April 25 2007

Name Calling

In recent years, President Bush has had no trouble using the word
"genocide"–first in reference to Saddam, then to the killings in
Darfur. The word connotes a moral imperative to intervene, perhaps
because of its reductio ad Hitlerum quality–how can you stand idly
by during a genocide? But, when discussing the million-plus Armenians
killed in Turkey between 1915 and 1923, President Bush, like President
Clinton before him, has avoided the word entirely.

That’s because, unlike other questions of who killed whom that the
United States has answered over last decades (Iraq, twice in the
Balkans, Rwanda, Sudan), there is a strategic reason to stay mum
about the Armenians: Turkey, a NATO ally of 50 years and a partner
in the war on terrorism, would get mad. According to Ankara, only
300,000 died, and only because its government suppressed uprisings
provoked by the crumbling Ottoman Empire. (Samantha Power dedicated
the first chapter of her Pulitzer Prize-winning book on genocide
to debunking this myth.) The Turks recognize the dispute and want
"further study," but in the meantime, they really don’t want to be
known as perpetrators of genocide.

For years, U.S. presidents have obliged–a tradition Bush continued
yesterday on the weirdly-named "National Day of Remembrance of Man’s
Inhumanity to Man," when, in a tribute to Armenians, he conspicuously
omitted the word "genocide." But that may soon change. The House
had been planning to mark April 24 by passing a resolution calling
the murder of Armenians during and after World War I genocide. The
measure, co-authored by California Republican George Radanovich and
co-sponsored by 190 House members, is just the latest of many genocide
bills supported by Armenian-American groups. But, unlike the others,
this one has a good chance of passing. It has bipartisan support,
and its language is purely symbolic: no restitutions, no requests for
apology. Just a statement urging the president to call the killings
genocide.

This has frightened Ankara, where it is a crime to "insult Turkishness"
(apparently there’s no greater insult than applying that label to
killings perpetrated almost a century ago by the country’s founder,
Mustafa Kemal Atatürk). In the past week, Turks have been frantically
lobbying members of Congress, urging them to oppose the resolution. The
Embassy of Turkey took out a full-page ad in Monday’s New York Times
urging Congress "to examine history, not legislate it." And they are
threatening to hamper U.S. efforts in Iraq.

We know they did something wrong, but they won’t let us say it. The
reasons for and against using the term "genocide" are perfectly clear:
morally, we should; strategically, we shouldn’t. This choice–between
retaining a key ally and recognizing a distant crime–has become
Washington’s purest test of realism versus idealism.

he last time such a bill made it to the floor, in 2000, Dennis Hastert
halted the vote at the request of Bill Clinton. It’s likely President
Bush will make a similar call to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi if she
pushes for a vote. But, given that Pelosi was willing to fork the
administration’s eye by traveling to Syria, there’s no reason to think
she’d obey on Armenia, particularly given her history of advocacy on
the issue. (Although, after Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and
Defense Secretary Robert Gates warned in a joint letter last month that
the bill could "harm American troops in the field," the House agreed
to delay the vote till sometime after yesterday’s commemoration.)

If defense hawks have their way, that vote will never happen.
Congress shouldn’t risk our valuable alliance with Turkey, they
argue, in exchange for a few Armenian-American votes. Besides, the
bill’s opponents don’t deny the importance of genocide. They simply
consider preserving U.S.-Turkey relations more important than making
a political statement about events that, while contemptible, have
little bearing on our foreign policy.

They’re right to be concerned: Last year, France passed a law
making it a crime to deny the Armenian genocide (in other words,
it’s illegal there to not "insult Turkishness"), much like Germany
and Switzerland’s laws against Holocaust denial. Turkey responded by
severing military ties with France. If the United States decides to
affirm the genocide, the Turks have said they may dissolve American
defense contracts and cut off cargo routes used to reach U.S. forces
in Iraq. And, perhaps more importantly, the bill could alienate the
only pro-Western secular democracy (albeit one that jails dissident
authors) in the Muslim world.

Yet neither the idealists nor the realists have been entirely
forthcoming. For one thing, many of the House members supporting the
resolution have large Armenian-American constituencies, particularly
in California and Michigan. Plus, the Democratic Congress has so far
relished exposing the administration’s hypocrisy; forcing Bush to
confront his selective concern for genocide is a tempting symbolic
zinger. On the other side, Turkey’s strident denial of historical
wrongdoing doesn’t make life easy for realists. The Turks say it’s
wrong to sanction a historical perspective, but if legislating
history is the problem, Ankara has been the biggest offender of all.
Europeans cite this stubbornness as an obstacle to Turkey’s admission
into the European Union. It’s only because other governments have
continued to waffle on the genocide question that Turkey has been able
to continue denying what is, to everyone but the Turkish government,
settled history.

Congress handles the bill should depend on two assessments: First,
the realists need to consider whether Turkey’s threats are credible.
Turkish foreign minister Abdullah Gul has indicated that the resolution
would complicate Turkey’s close cooperation in stabilizing Iraq and
stemming nuclear proliferation. It’s true, Turkey initially offered
to send 10,000 troops to Iraq and has since granted the United States
billions of dollars in defense contracts. But the kindness goes both
ways. Turkey is the third largest recipient of U.S. military aid,
behind Israel and Egypt. In 2003, it received a onetime $1 billion
aid package. President Bush requested $25 million in 2006. Despite
recent tensions over the Kurds, Ankara doesn’t want to jeopardize
this mutually munificent relationship any more than Washington does.

Second, the idealists should decide what they gain by applying the
"genocide" label to an episode already widely recognized as tragic.
One possible reason–no laughing here–is moral authority. Since the
invasion of Iraq, the United States has lost much of the respect
it commanded in international opinion. An administration that has
marshaled the word "genocide" so readily to justify its own actions
should, at the very least, be consistent in applying it. Asking that
Turkey face its past, especially when such a request hinders U.S.
interests, would set a principled example for other governments.

Turkey’s threats are salient only because of the prevailing silence
about its genocide. Earlier this month, the United Nations delayed
an exhibit at U.N. headquarters on the Rwandan genocide after
Turkey objected to one sentence citing Armenian deaths. If enough
countries forced Turkey to acknowledge these crimes, it wouldn’t
have the option of waxing indignant like it did with France and the
United Nations. Coming from a staunch ally with mutual interests to
preserve, an affirmation of the Armenian genocide would sound that
much more powerful. The United States occupies this unique position:
It’s up to Congress to use it.

Christopher Beam is an editorial assistant at Slate.

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