FACING HISTORY: DENIAL AND THE TURKISH NATIONAL SECURITY CONCEPT
By Taner Akcam

The Armenian Weekly
nd-the-turkish-national-security-concept/
April 16, 2009

In September 2005, Turkish intellectuals who questioned the Turkish
state’s denial policy on the deportation and killings of Armenians
during World War I gathered for a conference in Istanbul. Outside,
in the streets, demonstrators also gathered in protest against the
conference. One of the placards read: "Not Genocide, but Defense
of the Fatherland." Two parallel convictions are at work here, one
referring to the past, the other to the present. Both the events of
1915 and the denial policy nine decades later are framed in terms of
Turkish national security and self-defense.

In 2009, in a raid against the ultra-nationalist shadowy terror
organization Ergenekon, which is composed of mostly army and
police officers and bureaucrats, Turkish police confiscated some
documents. Among those documents was a file listing the names
of five people along with their photos; they were targeted for
assassination. My name was among that group. Turkish Nobel Prize
winner Orhan Pamuk and the Armenian journalist Hrant Dink, who was
assassinated in January 2007, were two other names. The title of
the document was "Traitors to National Security." All of the people
listed were known for having spoken out on the Armenian Genocide
and for asking the Turkish government to face this historic reality
honestly. One can therefore draw the conclusion that to be outspoken
about the genocide is to be considered a threat, by certain groups,
to Turkish national security.

This is not just the view of the political elite or an
ultra-nationalist terror organization. It also underpins legal
decision-making. In a judgment in 2007 against two Turkish-Armenian
journalists-Arat Dink, the son of Hrant Dink, and Sarkis Seropyan, who
received suspended sentences of a one-year imprisonment for using the
term genocide-the Turkish court stated: "Talk about genocide, both in
Turkey and in other countries, unfavorably affects national security
and the national interest. The claim of genocide…has become part
of and the means of special plans aiming to change the geographic
political boundaries of Turkey… and a campaign to demolish its
physical and legal structure." The ruling further stated that the
Republic of Turkey is under "a hostile diplomatic siege consisting
of genocide resolutions… The acceptance of this claim may lead
in future centuries to a questioning of the sovereignty rights of
the Republic of Turkey over the lands on which it is claimed these
events occurred." Due to these national security concerns, the court
declared that the claim of genocide in 1915 is not protected speech,
and that "the use of these freedoms can be limited in accordance with
aims such as the protection of national security, of public order,
of public security."[1]

The situation is not that different here in the United States: Even
though April 24 was declared a "National Day of Remembrance" for the
Armenian Genocide by a joint declaration of Congress on Sept. 9, 1975,
and the president of the United States is authorized and requested
to issue a proclamation, since then no U.S. president, except Ronald
Reagan in 1981, has used the term genocide. The main reason for this
attitude is "national security concerns of the United States in the
Middle East."

The same argument is used against proposals for recognizing the
Armenian Genocide on the floor of Congress, which has been brought up
almost every year in the form of resolutions. Both U.S. presidents and
opponents of the genocide resolutions have very similar arguments to
the Turkish court’s decision above. Indeed, it would appear that, as
the court stated, using the term genocide "unfavorably affects national
security and the national interest" of Turkey and the United States.

We have two sets of arguments here that are brought up in opposition
of one another: national security versus morality, or in other
phraseology, "realists" versus "moral fundamentalists." The realists
emphasize the national security concerns of their country. In Turkey
today, any attempt to openly discuss historic wrongs is denounced
as a covert move in a master plan to partition the country-a move,
therefore, against the "national security of Turkey." Here in the
United States, the realists consider the acknowledgment of the Armenian
Genocide by Congress or the use of the term by the president to be
"against U.S. strategic interests."

One often hears: "Turkey is a close friend of ours and we should not
upset them," or "we should not jeopardize our strategic interests
in the Middle East because of a moral issue, which occurred in the
distant past." On the other side we have the fundamentalist moralists
who emphasize the supremacy of morality against "real interests."

Pitting national interests against morality as mutually exclusive is
wrong. Any security policy in the Middle East that excludes morality
cannot ultimately work. Eventually it comes to undermine national
security.

Indeed, if one knows Turkey and the Middle East, one would easily
recognize that history and historical injustices are not just dead
issues from the past; the past is the present in the Middle East. There
is a strong interconnection between security, democracy, and facing
history in the Middle East. Even a passing glance at the region makes
it clear that historical injustices and the persistent denial of
these injustices by one or another state or ethnic/religious group
is a major stumbling block-not only for the democratization of the
region, but also for the establishment of stable relations between
different ethnic and religious groups. My central argument is that
the failure to confront history honestly is one of the major reasons
for insecurity and instability in the region.

Why is the discussion of historical injustices perceived as a threat
to Turkish national security? Let us try to examine the roots of this
mentality, and try to show the reasons why it must be changed. The
mindset that an open discussion of history engenders a security problem
originates from the breakup of the Ottoman Empire into nation-states
beginning in the 19th century. From late Ottoman times to the present,
there has been continuous tension between the state’s concern for
secure borders and society’s need to come to terms with human rights
abuses. In this history, human right abuses and the security and
territorial integrity of a crumbling empire can be likened to the
two faces of a coin-the two separate faces of the same coin caused
the rise of two opposing historical narratives.

Until recently, the dominant narrative has been the story of the
partition of the Ottoman Empire among the Great Powers, which ended
with its total collapse and disintegration. If one were to review
the books in Turkey that recount this narrative, one would be hard
pressed to find a reference to the massacres and genocide during
the late 19th and early 20th century. Instead, Christian communities
are painted as the seditious agents of the imperialist Great Powers,
continually conspiring against the state.

The other narrative has been developed by those ethnic and religious
minorities who were subjected to a different level of human rights
abuses during that period. The history of the 19th century is
mostly formulated in terms of human rights and the intervention of
the Great Powers on behalf of the minority groups. It is plain to
see the contrast in both positions. In one perspective the Great
Powers are portrayed as "evil" and must be criticized for having
intervened too much. In the other perspective, the Great Powers have
been characterized as "positive" or "benign," and are criticized for
not having intervened enough.

Hence, Turkish controversies about facing national history, in
particular the Armenian Genocide, can be understood, in part, as the
deployment of two apparently contradictory narratives against one
another. Whenever proponents of acknowledgment bring up the history of
human rights abuses, they are confronted with an opposing narrative,
that of the decline and breakup of the Ottoman Empire and the seditious
agents who quickened the process.

Indeed, there have been certain moments in that history where national
security and human rights became inseparably intertwined. One such
moment came immediately after WWI, between 1918 and 1923. When that
war ended with an Ottoman defeat, the political decision-makers of the
time grappled with two distinct, yet related issues when working out
the terms of a peace settlement-the answers to which determined their
various relationships and alliances: The first was the territorial
integrity of the Ottoman state. The second was the wartime atrocities
committed by the ruling Union and Progress Party against its Ottoman
Armenian citizens.

The questions about the first issue were: Should the Ottoman state
retain its independence? Should new states be permitted to arise on
the territory of the Ottoman state? If so, how should the borders of
these new states be defined? The questions regarding the second issue
were: What can be done about the wartime crimes against the Armenians
and the perpetrators of these atrocities? How should the perpetrators
be punished? These questions related two different sets of issues
that hadn’t been tackled separately and were rather intertwined with
each other.

The questions related to the territorial integrity of the Ottoman
Empire led to the formation of two different viewpoints. The Turkish
nationalist movement, under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal, favored
continued sovereignty within reduced borders as defined by the 1918
Moudros Ceasefire Treaty. The Allied Powers and ethnic/religious
groups such as the Greeks, Armenians, and to a lesser degree the Kurds,
on the other hand argued for the establishment of new states on both
occupied and unoccupied territory of the Ottoman Empire.

The successive treaties of Sevres (1920) and Lausanne (1923) reflected
these divergent points of view.

As a result of this fight over territory in the period of the republic,
a general understanding of history in modern Turkey emerged: We, the
Turks, who see ourselves as the legitimate successors of the Ottoman
Empire, defended our sole remaining territory against the Armenians,
Greeks, and to a lesser extent the Kurds, who were trying to carve up
Anatolia into nation-states,with the support of the British, French,
and Italians. The 1920 Treaty of Sevres resolved the question of
territory in favor of the non-Turkish nationalities. For the Turks,
therefore, Sevres remains a black mark in our history. For the other
ethnic/religious groups, however, the significance of Sevres is
quite different.

Although it did not fully reflect their demands for territory,
the treaty represented an unprecedented historical opportunity to
resolve the territorial issue in their favor. Conversely, the 1923
Treaty of Lausanne, which guaranteed Turkish dominance in Anatolia,
stands as a milestone and validation of our continued national
existence. Meanwhile, the other nationalities regard it as a great
historical injustice.

Nevertheless, both treaties were not merely symbols of territorial
conflict; they also symbolized how the injustices committed
against the Armenians and other Christians during the war would be
addressed. The central question concerned how the perpetrators of human
rights abuses during the war would be punished. Although everyone,
including the Turkish nationalists, agreed that these crimes should
not be left unpunished, there was uncertainty about the scope of the
penalty. One group advocated for the trial and punishment of only some
first-hand criminals as well as some of the top Union and Progress
leaders. Another group advocated for the trials of individual suspects,
casting the net as wide as possible, and for the punitive dismemberment
of the Ottoman state into new states created on its territory.

The position of the Entente Powers was that "the Turks," [2] so to
speak, organized the massacres of other peoples, in particular the
Armenians, during World War I, and that it was therefore necessary
to punish "the Turks" collectively in order to rescue the subject
peoples (Arabs as well as Greeks, Armenians, etc.) from Turkish
domination. Punishing "the Turks" was to be accomplished in two phases:
First, the members of the Ottoman government and other officials
were to be tried for the crimes against religious and ethnic
communities. Second,"the Turks" would henceforth inhabit a state
that would be rendered as small and as weak as possible. A telegram
sent to the Paris Peace Conference on April 3, 1919 by the assistant
high commissioner of Istanbul, Webb, clearly illustrates this policy;
it read:

In order to punish all of those persons who are guilty of the Armenian
horrors, it is necessary to punish the Turks as a group. Therefore,
I propose that the punishment be given on a national level through the
partitioning up of the last Turkish Empire, and on a personal level
by trying those high officials who are on the list in my possession,
and in a manner that would serve as an example for their successors.

In short, casting the net as widely as possible, the Allied Powers
advocated for the trials of individual suspects and for the punitive
dismemberment of the Ottoman state into new states created on its
territory. So, the main ostensible reason for partitioning Anatolia
among the various national groups was motivated by the Great Powers’
desire to punish "the Turks" for the barbarous acts they had committed.

What was the attitude of the "Turkish" position relative to the
punishments of the criminals? Recall that postwar Turkey was
governed from two political centers: Istanbul, the seat of the
Ottoman government, and Ankara, the headquarters of the Turkish
Nationalist movement led by Mustafa Kemal. Both the Istanbul and
Ankara governments acknowledged the massacres of the Armenians and
agreed with the Allies that the perpetrators should be tried and that
the trials were considered "just and necessary." However, Ankara and
Istanbul vehemently opposed the punitive partition of Anatolia.

This was one of the central issues when both governments met in October
1919 to call an election of an Ottoman parliament in accordance
with the constitution. They signed five protocols to regulate the
process of the upcoming elections. The first and third protocols were
directly related to the topic at hand. The first protocol declared:
"1. Ittihadism (Party of Union and Progress) [which organized the
genocide against the Armenians] or any hint of its reawakening is
politically very damaging . . . 4. It is judicially and politically
necessary to punish those who committed crimes in connection with the
deportation." In the third protocol, both parties agreed that the
fugitive members of "Ittihat," who were wanted in connection with
wartime atrocities, were not to participate in the elections. The
protocol described the atrocities as "the evil deeds" of the Union
and Progress Party. The perpetrators were defined as persons "who have
been sullied by the nefarious acts of the deportation and massacre,"
and so their participation in the election was qualified as "contrary
to the true interests of the nation."

The founder of modern Turkey, Mustafa Kemal, when addressing the
parliament on April 24, 1920, called the atrocities a "shameful
act." Now, keep in mind that Mustafa Kemal was not a human rights
activist or an altruist, but a politician. The underlying reason in
supporting the punishment of the perpetrators was his expectation from
the ongoing Paris Peace conference; the commanders of the British and
French occupying forces in Istanbul had grabbed every opportunity to
remind "the Turks" that if they expected a positive outcome from the
Paris peace talks, action had to be taken against the perpetrators of
the war crimes. So, the Mustafa Kemal-led government in Ankara and the
administration in Istanbul believed that the war crime trials were the
price for obtaining national sovereignty. In a memo written by Mustafa
Kemal in September 1919 to the Istanbul government, this point was
underlined in a very clear way: "The punishment of perpetrators,"
he wrote, "should not stay only on paper…but should be carried
out, since this would successfully impress the foreign elements." In
exchange for this concession, the Turkish leadership expected a more
favorable peace settlement without the loss of territory.

This strategy failed. In April 1920, the provisions of Sevres became
known, according to which it was proposed to punish "the Turks" for the
war crimes by partitioning the Ottoman territory. In the same month,
the Istanbul Court Martial, which had been established in November 1918
and which was in the process of trying the perpetrators of the Armenian
atrocities, now under pressure from the Allied Powers, began trying
almost the entire Turkish national leadership,Mustafa Kemal foremost
among them, who were opposed to the partitioning of Anatolia. Mustafa
Kemal and around 100 nationalists were sentenced to death in absentia.

When the Turkish nationalists realized that their support for the
punishment of war criminals was not going to prevent the partitioning
of Anatolia, and was in fact going to lead to their own prosecution
and punishment, their attitude changed. As Mustafa Kemal wrote to
Istanbul on Aug. 20, 1920: "[t]he Ottoman government . . . continues
to hang the children of the homeland on accusations of [having
perpetrated] deportation and massacres, which now became totally
senseless." [4] What Mustafa Kemal meant was that the policy whereby
the Ottoman government punished Turks for what they had done to the
Christian minorities would make sense only if Turkey received some
positive results in terms of a better treaty to secure the Ottoman
territories. However, Sevres had been signed, Ottoman sovereignty had
not been acknowledged, and the Ottoman territories were distributed
among different nations. Therefore, Mustafa Kemal concluded that these
"senseless" death sentences should be halted.

We can conclude that had the Western forces agreed to territorial
integrity in exchange for trials for "crimes against humanity,"
we might be talking about a very different history.

Today, we can say that the court martial in Istanbul is a symbol
of these two interwoven but distinct strands of Turkish history:
"territory and borders," or expressed another way, "national security"
on the one side, and "human rights," or "facing history and addressing
historic wrongdoings," on the other. The fact is that the attempt
to dismember and partition the state as a form of punishment for
the atrocities committed during the war years, and the proposed
punishment of its nationalist leaders for seeking the territorial
integrity of their state, created the mindset in Turkey today that
views any reference to the historic wrongdoings in the past as an
issue of national security.

A product of this mindset is therefore a belief that democratization,
freedom of thought and speech, open and frank debate about history,
and the acknowledgment of one’s past historical misdeeds is a threat
to national security. Those who invite society to engage in an open
examination of the past are therefore labeled as "traitors," made
targets of smear campaigns, and dragged into courts for "insulting
Turkishness." It is this kind of mindset that was behind the murder
of Hrant Dink in 2007.

Reviewing Turkish history from this perspective reveals four important
new perspectives. First, Mustafa Kemal’s condemnation of the Armenian
massacres is diametrically opposed to the current official Turkish
policy of denial. His position during the difficult war years could be
a positive starting point for a resolution. To become truly democratic,
Turkey must confront this "dark chapter" of its history, this "shameful
act," as Mustafa Kemal called it.

Secondly, until now, the Turkish-Armenian problem has been perceived
within the old paradigm that produced these conflicts, namely, the
collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the clash of different ethnic
or national groups over land and boundaries. We have to change
this understanding. What we need is a new paradigm, and we need to
rethink the Armenian-Turkish conflict. We have to reposition the
Armenian-Turkish conflict within the new paradigm of transitional
justice, that is, as a part of the democratization effort within
existing nation-states. The conflict should not be regarded as a
territorial dispute, but rather as a human rights issue and as a
problem of historic injustices that must be rectified in order to
establish a just and democratic society.

Thirdly, the concept of Turkish national security must be revised
and changed. The main flaw of this concept is its perception
that the promotion of basic democratic rights such as equality
under the law, social reform, and freedom of speech are a threat
to national security. In the past, the emergence of the so-called
"Armenian Question" was the result of Armenian demands for equality
and social reform, which arguably would have led to a better Ottoman
society. Their demands and the Armenians themselves were considered
a security threat, leading to them being targeted for massacres and
deportations. Today, the demand for an honest account of history is
being handled in the same way: as a security problem.

The irony is that criminalizing historical inquiries for national
security reasons is not only a huge obstacle on the path to democracy,
but is also counterproductive and leads directly to real security
problems for the country. This "self-fulfilling prophecy" can be
shown not only in the case of the Armenian Genocide of the past but
in the Kurdish problem today. Just as the Armenians and their social
and political demands for a more just society were considered a threat
in the past, a democratic future for Kurds today is also considered a
threat to Turkish national security. So, instead of solving the Kurdish
problem by seeking solutions that would lead to a more democratic
society, the old-and, I would argue, now useless-security concept has
been resurrected and has declared that Kurdish demands are essentially
a security problem for the nation.

As long as Turkey continues to regard moral principles (one of which
is facing historical injustice with honesty) and national security
as two opposing poles that are mutually exclusive, and refuses to
come to terms with the past for national security reasons-indeed,
as long as Turkey’s national security is defined in opposition to an
honest historical reckoning-further problems will be created.

Fourth, the United States should change its policy towards the
recognition of the Armenian Genocide and the security concept towards
Turkey. The best way to summarize why is with the French concept
of "Bon pour l’Orient!" translated as "It is good enough for the
East." During the 19th century, this concept legitimized French
colonialism and provided justification for the humiliation of the
eastern countries they colonized and the acts committed there. The
U.S. has to rid itself of this classic colonial patronization. If
it’s good for the U.S., then the same should be demanded of Turkey.

The idea of criminalizing discussion about American slavery or the
treatment of Native Americans because of "security issues"; or of
maintaining federal government websites where these historical events
are uniformly referred to as "so-called" or "alleged" and filled with
openly racist, hateful propaganda; or of forcing American children to
watch films denying that the slavery of Africans or subjugation of
Native Americans ever took place would be viewed as a sick joke in
the U.S., but American foreign policy makers have had no problems
supporting Turkey, a country that has been doing virtually the
same consistently for decades, even going so far as to establish a
coordination committee among the different ministries to coordinate
the fight against "so-called Armenian genocide lies."

The U.S. government should recognize that any argument here, in the
U.S., that brings up America’s national interest as the reason to
reject the official acknowledgment of the genocide, will result in
supporting those in Turkey who still hunt down intellectuals because
they are opposed to this inhumane, racist mindset.

There is a security aspect of the problem, as well: A non-democratic,
authoritarian Turkey creates a security problem when it makes denial
of historical injustices an integral part of its security policy. It
is exactly this attitude that not only delays democratization in
the region, but also destabilizes relationships in the volatile
Middle East.

A main problem in the region is the insecurity felt by different
groups towards each other as a result of past events. When you make the
denial of these pain-filled acts a part of your security policy, this
brings with it insecurity towards the other. This is what I call the
security dilemma: What one does to enhance one’s own security causes
a reaction that, in the end, can make one even less secure. Often
statesmen do not recognize that this may be a probable outcome; they
do not empathize this with their neighbors and are unaware that their
own actions can appear threatening. The existing sense of mistrust
engendered by denial is an obstacle to the creation of security in
the region. For this reason, any security concept, any policies of
realpolitik in and for the region that ignores morality and forgets
to address historical wrongdoings are doomed to fail.

So, instead of helping those who deny past injustices, U.S. policy
should integrate an honest confrontation with history into a policy
of national interest in the Middle East.

Lastly, there are some pragmatic reasons why existing U.S. policy
regarding Turkey should change. First, there’s an ongoing theatrical
drama (or perhaps comedy would be a better term) that all the
parties engage in every year and that has started to grow old. It’s
time to end this dishonorable playacting. As we know, each time the
administration or Congress has the issue of the Armenian Genocide on
their table, they don’t vote for/against what they think about the
events of 1915. They end up denying for one day what they believe
the other 364 days of the year. All of the parties involved know
very well what the administration and Congress think about 1915,
but Turkey asks them to tell a lie only for one day. I have never
understood why the Turkish government extracts so much joy out of
making the United States lie for one day. I also find it completely
dishonorable. Not only does this lie fail to lead to a resolution,
it needlessly locks up the debate. All of the parties involved,
arguably using all of their energy and effort, wait for this one day
and get completely locked into a single word that may or may not be
used by Congress or the president. Placing so much expectation and
energy on a specific day and around a single word that may be uttered
by the U.S. government creates incredible tension. It builds up into
an impenetrable gridlock that impedes any solution. The United States
should stop being a gridlock that prevents resolution. The time has
come for the United States to stop allowing itself to play that role.

If the United States declares what it believes to be the truth and
stands behind it, not only will it gain some self-respect on the
subject, but it will liberate both Turks and Armenians and itself in
the process.

After stating what it believes to be the truth, the U.S. could step
away from being a part of the problem and could step into the role
of mediator. That would bring about the realization to the opposing
sides that the solution lies within them, not in expending all of
their energy trying to get a U.S. president to state something or to
keep quiet. The border between the two countries should immediately be
reopened, diplomatic relations re-established, and a series of meetings
planned where all subjects, not just history alone, are discussed and
debated. Turkey needs to stop treating the discussion of history as
a category of crime. This can only be possible when the U.S. puts an
end to this gridlock and is honest with its statements about history.

The problem has another important aspect to it. At a time when Turkey
is making an effort to engage in foreign policy mediation between
Arabs and Israel and is attempting to be seen as an international
team player, it might be an eye-opener for Turkey to understand that
bullying and threatening others is not the behavior of an international
actor. Turkey cannot continue with the same repressive domestic
policies towards its own history and minorities-under the guise of
national security; it cannot continue to threaten other countries in
expressing their thoughts on 1915, while at the same time pretending
to be a democratic country. An open official acknowledgment by the
U.S. government might force Turkey to understand that blackmailing
and threatening other states and suppressing and persecuting its
own intellectuals do not offer solutions for historical problems nor
for security.

I believe that we will enter a new era where morality and realpolitik
will not be considered mutually exclusive-if President Barack Obama
should put an end to this lingering problem and liberate everybody
in the process by an official acknowledgment of genocide.

ENDNOTES * This article is based on the inaugural lecture of the
author at Clark University