1001 Masks of Turkish Ittihadism in a Century (eBook)

INTRODUCTION

Jude E. Seleck

It was the 1970s when we embarked on a family trip along the Aegean Sea coast of Turkey, and during that time, we stayed for a few days on a small island off the coast of Ayvalık (Romanized Greek: Kydonies). The island, currently known as Cunda or Alibey (Romanized Greek: Moschonisia), featured traditional narrow cobbled alleys and stone buildings adorned with clay roof tiles and olive groves, exemplifying the typical traits of Greek islands. We stayed in an unsightly concrete hotel, potentially erected in the 1960s or 1970s, creating a stark contrast to the island’s architecture and landscape. As I aimlessly roamed the town, my attention was caught by the sight of a crumbling, whitewashed church. The door was tightly secured by a chain and a clutter of trash filled the interior. I was captivated by the church’s architecture, so I would frequently climb the hotel’s stairs to the roof and admire this exquisite building on the island. I couldn’t grasp why the church wasn’t renovated or why people who once visited it were no longer on the island. Despite my young age of 12 or 13, I had an intuition that something was off. It was only after many years that I discovered the tragic fate of the islanders. Thousands of Greeks, including the church bishop Ambrosios Pleiathidis, were ruthlessly slaughtered by the Turkish army in September 1922 during the Turkish War of Independence.

On October 9, 2001, I queued up to apply for a visa for a business visit at the Istanbul consular office of an East European country, which later became a member of the European Union. At the entrance of the building, a chubby and tall Turkish security guard was attempting to engage in conversation with the young women waiting in the slowly moving queue. He was using sassy language, but his behavior appeared foolish. Despite the little power vested in him, the man behaved as if he was an important person. One moment, he began cracking jokes at a high volume with the Turkish police officers guarding the embassy from the exterior of the building. Turkey is plagued with grandiosity, besides widespread inequality and poverty. His behavior is perfectly normal by the local standards, although completely unprofessional. Hence, the others in the queue wore broad smiles while watching this person as a sign of approval. From my perspective, as someone who had fully embraced Western discipline, the occurrence was so outlandish that I instinctively looked at him and then at the security personnel in disbelief. Even though I said nothing, the security guard must have noticed my actions that contrasted with the others, and he felt the need to furnish an explanation:

“I serviced in the [Turkish] military together with them. I was a specialist corporal in Southeastern [Anatolia].”1

Then continued:

“On the stock of my rifle, there were... [a number between 100 and 200, which the author can not remember] notches. Do you know what that meant?”

Finally, I felt the need to say something:

“Kill notches? The number of Kurdish guerrillas you have killed?”

He continued very calmly:

“Not just them. One day, we crossed the border towards the Iraqi side and set up an ambush. A passenger bus carrying the villagers was coming. We attacked with mortars. It caught fire instantly, and we blazed away at those who tried to get out with machine guns. Children, women...they were all dead.”

I was not expecting that much disclosure, thus I asked him in dismay:

“Were they Kurdish villagers?”

The guard responded with indifference:

“Kurd or Arab. It does not matter. [They are] all the same.”

I was speechless, dumbfounded, and at a loss for words. I examined the other people in the queue, but there was no sign of emotion. The inaction evidenced that his declaration was ordinary in this country. The sticky man, apparently not able to engage me in a pleasurable conversation, instantly encountered someone else he could have a more vibrant discussion with.

The guard’s revelation left me perplexed but also awakened me. Despite being skeptical of Turkey’s political views due to its abysmal human rights record, I realized my knowledge of Turkish history was limited. Hence, I delved deeper into Turkish history through independent research and realized that the history taught in Turkey is riddled with falsehoods. This book is a result of years of diligent research.

When studying the Ottoman Empire period, it’s important to recognize that the terms Ottoman and Turk were intentionally used interchangeably. This is certainly not due to any prejudice but for the sake of historical consistency. However, some historians, such as Donald Quataert oppose this and claim that the terms Turk or Turkish are different from Ottoman.2 He further asserts that modern-day Turkey is not responsible for the malicious acts of the Ottoman Empire.3 However, although the Ottoman Empire was a multinational state in theory, the administration, and military were under the control of Turks, including the Turkicized subjects. In the second half of the 19th century, there were occasional appointments of predominantly Muslim, non-Turkish, and fewer non-Muslim minorities to some governmental positions. Nevertheless, the Sunni Muslim Turkish majority maintained authority over the administration and the military.4 Although the Republic of Turkey, as a nation-state, is the successor of the Ottoman Empire, this does not apply to other ethnic/religious communities who lived under Ottoman rule. For instance, Arab countries, although predominantly Muslim, are not the successor states of the Ottoman Empire, which is also true for other ethnic groups. In Turkey, the Ottoman Empire is viewed as a significant part of its history and is taught as such in the education system. This is similar to how the Republic of Russia is considered the successor to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), with the Russians being the dominant ethnic group within the multi-ethnic USSR, and the USSR being seen as essentially a Russian Empire.5

Although not a historian, the author is a devoted student of history. The author recognizes that to conduct a thorough political analysis, one must possess a strong grasp of historical events and a comprehensive understanding of relevant cultures.

Toponym, Person Names, Turkish Language

The book was written with historical sensitivity, taking great care to use the toponyms as they were used during the time period of the events as much as possible.6 The current version of a toponym has been indicated in parentheses when it is first introduced. An example of this is Constantinople (Istanbul) during the Ottoman Empire. Only Istanbul was used during the Turkish Republic period, as it is today’s widely accepted form. However, the smaller settlements pose a challenge. The Turkicization of the toponyms policy, which began with the rise of the Committe of Union and Progress (CUP) (Ottoman Turkish: İttihad ve Terakki Cemiyeti) to power and continued until the 1980s under the Republic of Turkey, caused many smaller settlements and geographical features to be renamed in Turkish. This conversion affected tens of thousands of places that originally had names in indigenous languages such as Greek, Armenian, Arabic, Kurdish, Georgian, Syriac, and Laz, which were commonly used in Anatolia.7 Furthermore, as a result of the massacres, forced deportations, and the destruction of significant landmarks like places of worship, schools, and cemeteries, which began under the military dictatorship of the CUP and persisted during the Turkish Republic, the majority of the original residents were displaced, resulting in the loss of their cultural identity and the settlements becoming predominantly Turkish. Thus, all their ties with the past had been deliberately severed. Today, even among historians, there is no consensus on the original names of many settlements. Undoubtedly, there is also a cultural genocide or ethnocide dimension on top of the physical genocide of the events.

It is noteworthy to highlight how the book states the names of Turkish historical figures. The Surname Law in the Republic of Turkey was adopted on June 21, 1934, requiring citizens to adopt a last name. On November 6, 1934, all nicknames and titles were officially abolished. Until then, nicknames and titles such as Effendi (Turkish: Efendi), Bey, Aga (Turkish: Ağa), Khanum (Turkish: Hanım), and Pasha (Turkish: Paşa) were used instead of last names. In the book’s passages devoted to the Ottoman Empire, the names of Turks were written with their nicknames and titles, and the last names they later adopted were also noted in parentheses, e.g., Mustafa Kemal Pasha (Atatürk). In the second part of the book about the Turkish Republic, the newly adopted last names, instead of the outlawed nicknames or titles, were used, such as Mustafa Kemal Atatürk or simply Atatürk.

Just as the names of the people had to be written in two different formats depending on the...