IS TURKEY RENAMING ISTANBUL CONSTANTINOPLE?
Sept 9 2009
Turkey
Last month, Turkish President Abdullah Gul broke a long-standing
national taboo: He called the remote village of Guroymak by its
Kurdish name, Norshin.
The president’s opponents say renaming Istanbul Constantinople on
highway signs will inevitably follow. Or worse. For many Turks,
saying Norshin leads to saying Kurdistan, and saying Kurdistan leads
to recognizing an independent Kurdish state stretching across Iran,
Iraq, and southeastern Turkey.
After a 1980 military coup, Turkey "Turkified": It banned the
Kurdish language, imposed new Turkish place names, and famously
declared that Kurds were actually "mountain Turks." Its government
has since abandoned this extreme form of forced assimilation. But
allowing or using Kurdish names is still a politically charged act,
seen by many Turks as a concession to the Kurdistan Workers’ Party
(better known as the PKK), which has fought a brutal 25-year battle
for Kurdish independence.
The Turkish government wants to end the PKK’s terrorist campaign
without splitting off a Kurdish state — and sees extending cultural
rights and linguistic freedoms as the way to do it. But what will it
take to reconcile the Turks and the Kurds?
The verbal recognition of Kurds and Kurdish culture at the highest
political level is a first step, as Gul’s use of the name Norshin
demonstrates. Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan recently brought
a number of parliamentarians to tears by saying that something is
terribly wrong when the mothers of Turkish soldiers and the mothers of
PKK fighters are saying the same prayers over their sons’ bodies. That
such a comparison can even be made is itself a sign of progress.
And there are concrete changes, too. Already, the government has
opened a Kurdish radio station and promoted Kurdish literature classes
at universities. In late July, Erdogan announced his government
was beginning a "Kurdish Initiative." He has not yet provided any
details. But most Turkish journalists expect the government to allow
public servants and politicians to speak Kurdish, end restrictions
on Kurdish media, give some form of amnesty to all but the highest
ranking PKK members, and possibly even revise the Constitution to allow
Kurds to be full Turkish citizens without giving up their Kurdish
identity. (Those Kurds who are proud to call themselves Turks have
always been accepted and often risen high in the ranks of politics
and pop culture)
These initiatives have met — and will meet — tremendous
push-back. Previous leaders have considered similar changes, such as
calling citizens "Turkiyeli" (from Turkey) rather than "Turkish,"
to emphasize citizenship over ethnic identity. But obstacles to
implementing such initiatives have been insurmountable. Already, the
two leading opposition parties have denounced Erdogan’s plan. Plus,
Turkey has a Constitutional Court with the power to strike down laws
that alter the country’s "unamendable" constitutional articles —
one of which declares that the national language is Turkish.
This time around, though, the government has the army, a long-time
rival, on its side. Realizing at last that the fight will never be
won through purely military means, Turkey’s leading general now
supports greater cultural freedom for Kurds and wants to make it
easier for PKK members to surrender. The National Security Council,
traditionally a vehicle for the military to "advise" the government
on political issues, also gave its blessing to the initiative.
Still, security and foreign-policy concerns complicate the
issue. Numerous Turks are convinced that the U.S. government — a
friend to politicians and generals, a foe to most everyone else —
is behind the Kurdish initiative. They presume that the United States
is desperate to ensure stability in northern Iraq as it prepares
to withdraw from the country. Thus, they claim, the United States,
after supporting the PKK for years, is now forcing Turkey to give in
to PKK demands in order to foster peace with the Kurdistan Regional
Government (KRG).
The conspiracy theory is only two parts crazy. The PKK is based in
the Kandil Mountains, in Kurdish Iraq. The United States, hesitant to
upset Iraq’s lone functioning region, has proven unwilling to take
decisive action against it. But such U.S. strategic intransigence
stokes anti-American sentiment in Turkey. Further, the KRG’s refusal
to prevent the PKK from launching attacks in Turkey has poisoned
relations between Ankara and Erbil.
But in the past year, for Turkish policymakers the KRG has increasingly
looked less like a threat than a potential ally. Turkish firms
have been doing billions of dollars worth of business with Iraqi
Kurds for some time now, in every field from construction to
telecommunications. Moreover, if chaos follows the U.S. withdrawal
from Iraq, a peaceful Kurdistan would help protect Turkey from the
spread of violence. On top of this, Turkey’s new foreign minister is
the architect of a regional policy awkwardly but succinctly rendered
in English as "zero problems with neighbors." In practice, this has
meant trying to mend fences with traditional rivals such as Greece,
Syria, Russia, and even Armenia.
Recent developments have also left the KRG eager to improve
relations with Turkey. The Kurds are increasingly concerned about
being left friendless in the region, as Arab-Kurdish tensions mount,
a confrontation over Kirkuk seems possible, and U.S. forces continue
to withdraw. As the chief of staff of the president of Iraqi Kurdistan
told the International Crisis Group, "If the Shiites choose Iran, and
the Sunnis choose the Arab world, then the Kurds will have to ally
themselves with Turkey." Economics figure in as well: The oil-rich
Iraqi Kurds export their oil though a pipeline that leads to the
Turkish port of Ceyhan.
But what does all this intricate politicking mean for Ankara and
the PKK?
The insurgent Kurdish group’s imprisoned leader, Abdullah Ocalan,
continues to maintain a unilateral cease-fire and is no longer
demanding independence. But he has also made proposals that no Turkish
government would accept. For example, he has said Turks and Kurds
must recognize Turkey and Kurdistan as a "joint homeland," whatever
that means. He may also harbor dreams of transforming the PKK into
a legitimate political party, like Ireland’s Sinn Fein.
Even the most liberal Turkish politicians balk at any legitimization
of the PKK. But why would the group give up its guns if that meant
agreeing to disband? The United States could be one reason. As the
Pentagon considers sending troops to northern Iraq to stem an armed
Kurdish-Arab conflict, it could also pressure the KRG to crack down
on the PKK’s camps. In this scenario, PKK would have no safehaven in
Iraq or Turkey. Then, it might accept amnesty without any politicians
in Ankara having to appear to negotiate or concede too much.
Turkey is closer now than ever before to solving the problem that
has kept it estranged from the United States, the European Union,
and millions of its own citizens. Turkish politicians have started
speaking the right language. With luck, action will follow.