World Politics Watch
Feb 2 2007
Hrant Dink: Silenced in the Shadow of Turkey’s Penal Code 301
Handan T. Satiroglu | Bio | 02 Feb 2007
World Politics Watch Exclusive
Since shortly before the inception of the Turkish Republic, in 1923,
a journalist has been murdered on average every 1.5 years in Turkey,
columnist Oktay Eksi recently lamented in the Hurriyet newspaper. In
the last 15 years alone, according to a recent report of the New
York-based Committee to Protect Journalists, "18 Turkish journalists
have been killed for their work, making it the deadliest country in
the world for journalists." Like a blow from an axe, the murder of
Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink two weeks ago has cut yet
another deep gash into Turkey’s already embattled democratization and
intellectual freedom.
The assassination of Dink, editor-in-chief of the Istanbul-based
Armenian newspaper Agos, reflects a hard fact masked by Turkey’s
recent democratic reforms during its EU bid: Turkey is in the throes
of a profound identity conflict. On the one hand, its archaic,
oppressive political machinery lies decadent and gasping under the
weight of recent European-inspired reforms that have resulted in
democratic changes. Yet, conversely, the reforms have been met with a
fresh burst of nationalist backlash. The draconian Turkish Penal Code
Article 301, making it a crime to insult "Turkishness," has further
nourished Turkish extreme nationalism. Since the article was
introduced in 2005 — replacing an even more strident law — more
than 96 writers and intellectuals have been persecuted, including
high-profile cases such as novelist Elif Shafak, slain leftist
journalist Ahmet Taner, and the late Dink, who was prosecuted three
times under 301 for addressing Turkish-Armenian issues squarely.
In a case that resonated around the world, the article first exploded
into the international limelight when it was invoked against the
Nobel Laureate Orhan Pamuk for his comments made to a Swiss
newspaper. "Thirty thousand Kurds and a million Armenians were
murdered," he claimed in his infamous interview with Tages Anzeiger.
"Hardly anyone dares mention it, so I do. And that’s why I’m hated."
With mounting pressure from the EU, the judge later dismissed the
case over a legal technicality.
But the defeat of the case of the Nobel Laureate is of little
consolation for the countless individuals — artists, writers,
dissidents, lawyers and students — who presently face charges for
voicing views that can be construed as "an insult to the Turkish
state or identity." Take the example of publisher Abdullah Yilmaz. He
faces a possible jail sentence for issuing a Turkish edition of the
best-selling novel "The Witches of Smyrna," authored by Greek writer
Mara Meimaridi. The novel allegedly paints Turks in a negative light,
and reportedly "describes parts of the Turkish quarter of Izmir as
‘dirty’." More recently, publishers of the Turkish translation of
"Manufacturing Consent" by Noam Chomsky have been brought to trial on
the grounds that that the editors and translators of the book openly
denigrated Turkish identity, the Turkish Republic and parliament. The
organizer of the festival of arts in Istanbul, Halil Altindere, has
also been recently brought to court. His crime? Public humiliation of
the Turkish army in a photographic exhibit.
In and atmosphere of growing restrictions on intellectual freedom,
Hrant Dink was among those charged under Article 301. In July 2006,
he was given a six-month suspended sentence for "denigrating Turkish
identity" in one of his articles on the Ottoman-Armenian diaspora.
Shortly after the six month suspended sentence, a new case opened.
Like the novelist Orhan Pamuk, he was set to stand trial for
referring to the 1915 massacre of Armenians as "genocide" during a
July interview with Reuters. Dink was awaiting his trial on such
charges at the time of his assassination. He had always maintained
that his goal was to reconcile the bitter tensions between Turkish
and Armenian societies. Amidst a deluge of hate mail and threats that
mounted to what he called "psychological torture," he continued his
work as an editor at Agos with courage and grace. "The memory of my
computer is filled with angry, threatening lines sent by citizens
from this sector," he wrote wistfully in his last column. "I feel
frightened as a dove but I know that in this country people do not
touch and disturb the doves. The doves continue their lives in the
middle of the cities. Yes indeed a bit frightened but at the same
time free."
Tragically, he was wrong. He was one was one of dozens of writers who
was sacrificed and made out to be a criminal in the shadow of Article
301, where Turkey’s burgeoning populist ultra-nationalists perceived
him to be a traitor and an enemy of the country. For the 100,000 who,
after his death, marched solemnly in a show of solidarity, there was
a clear connection between the Orwellian, catch-all provision and his
cold-blooded assassination. "Article 301 is the killer," read the
black and white placards written in Armenian on one side, and Turkish
on the other side. Many believe the criminilization of differing
opinions has emboldened radicals and led them to falsely believe that
the state implicitly supports their actions. "To be charged under
Article 301 is to be branded an enemy of Turkey, to become a figure
of hate and a target for fanatics and extremists," writes Lucy
Popescu in the Guardian. "The law is completely contrary to
international standards protecting the right to freedom of expression
and endangers the lives of those charged under it." Suat Kiniklioglu,
director of the German Marshall Fund’s office in Ankara ventures a
similar opinion in an interview with EurasiaNet: "The atmosphere that
prompted [the assassin] to go after Hrant Dink with a gun was really
the result of the atmosphere created by the trials brought on by
article 301. In that respect, the government will need now to really
take article 301 seriously."
And thus, the question remains: Will Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s
government repeal the penal code anytime soon — if ever? Formerly at
the forefront of democratic reforms that propelled Turkey towards the
European Union, the government now is preoccupied with courting the
nationalist vote. With presidential elections looming in May,
followed closely by parliamentary polls in November, it seems highly
unlikely that Erdogan’s party AKP will abolish the law in question,
given its immense popularity with nationalist voters. As Stephen
Kinzer points out in the Boston Globe: "Nationalist rhetoric is again
surfacing in political speeches and militant newspapers. Much of it
contains ugly insinuations that Armenians, Kurds, and members of
other minority groups threaten Turkey’s national unity and its very
survival." AKP has increasing felt compelled to use rhetoric that
gravitates towards the ultra-nationalist end of the spectrum to drown
out the ultra-nationalist voice coming forth from various other
politicians on the far-right.
Prime Minister Tayyip Erdogan might be a nationalist and an avid
supporter of Article, but he is also an artful politician who seeks
to wed the EU. So, it is hardly surprising that he promptly condemned
the murder. "A bullet has been fired at democracy and freedom of
expression," he said in a televised news conference as the dire news
spread around the world. The assassination he said "was an attack on
our peace and stability," adding that the "treacherous hands" behind
the shooting would be swiftly brought to justice. However, paying lip
service to freedom of speech or protection of minorities is barely
enough to transform the current climate of rising nationalist
sentiments. The wave of anger and sorrow that gushed forth from both
Turks and Armenians in reaction to Dink’s murder give Erdogan and his
clan a chance to rethink Article 301, which plays the paramount role
in fomenting Turkey’s culture of ultra-nationalism.
Handan T. Satiroglu is a sociologist and writer who divides her time
between the U.S. and Europe.
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