Turkey by numbers #2: The military's trigger-happy résumé

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ISTANBUL:   Turkey is in the midst of a coup process. That is if you take, as a general consensus, the analyses of certain sections of the Turkish press over the last two months. If the meaning of a coup d'etat is held to be an intervention in the democratic process by outside forces -- i.e. unelected and usually military -- and by forcible means, then the coup began on April 27, 2007, the day of the failed presidential election in Turkey. Whilst the tanks are yet to trundle through the streets, which hopefully may never be realized, the echo of tank tracks are already reverberating in the collective Turkish subconscious, be it against such action, or a far-too-loud for. Of course, a military intervention conjures up images of death, imprisonment, torture and a complete withdrawal of democratic freedoms. But who needs the bullets to fly, when the Turkish Armed Forces (TSK) have a once-a-decade trigger-happy résumé to do the talking.

Following on from my previous article -- Turkey by numbers #1: Publish and be damned, highlighting the unprecedented series of events leading up to the current coup process -- here follows, to wit, the fast-track history lesson of previous Turkish military coups d'etat: May 27, 1960; March 12, 1971; Sept. 12, 1980; and last, but by no means least, Feb. 28, 1997 ... which totals four.

Coup #1: The arrival of the Constitutional Court

In keeping with how the Turkish press like to refer to their coups, the May 27 process resulted in the execution of the then-prime minister, Adnan Menderes, for high treason among other charges. In the wake of Menderes and his Democrat Party administration's perceived abuse of power, came a new constitution, and the formation of the Constitutional Court in 1962. Prior to this, Parliament's superiority had been upheld as the guiding light for the absolute interpretation of the constitution.

Coup #2: The first 'coup by memorandum'

Coup number two, a.k.a. the March 12 process, was a process indeed introducing the concept of a "soft coup" with the military high command submitting their displeasure via a written memorandum (typed, one would guess) which saw the instant resignation of the sitting prime minister, Süleyman Demirel. Not that the first "coup by memorandum" -- to give it its earnest and widely-accepted title -- solved the main problem: civil unrest on the streets by leftist groups at odds with the policies of Demirel's Justice Party (AP) government. The replacement "national unity" government, installed by the military, kickstarted a long and bloody decade of street clashes between the far-left and far-right, arguing the finer points of their respective ideologies through the barrel of a gun. The 70s in Turkey literally bled into the 80s, culminating with an average of 10 assassinations per day and the death toll peaking at 5,000 as 1980 swung round. (Le Monde diplomatique, "La Turquie à marche forcée," February 1981)

Coup #3: The hammer-blow

That all ground to a halt, however, with the arrival of coup number three on Sept. 12, 1980. Not so much a process as a hammer-blow to the nation, the effects of which still reach deep into the psyche of any Turk over 40 years of age, as well as the very democratic rights and freedoms of this country today. But more on that soon. Back on that particular date, with the sudden (and, some say, suspicious) cessation of violence on the streets, it wasn't an outbreak of peace and love in the offing. With the dissolution of Parliament, the 1961 Constitution abolished, all political parties banned and General Kenan Evren and the TSK now the supreme authority, the real devil is in the following details*.

The clampdown:

650,000 people arrested

230,000 people were put on trial

98,404 of those on trial for membership of various organizations

517 people sentenced to death, of which

50 were executed

1,683,000 people blacklisted by the military as subversives

30,000 sacked for being labeled subversive

388,000 passports were confiscated

14,000 citizenships were withdrawn

30,000 fled abroad as political refugees

300 died in suspicious circumstances

171 known cases of torture, supported by documentary evidence

The murder of thought and opinion:

927 books were banned

23,677 organizations closed down

3,854 teachers, 120 academics and 47 judges sacked

400 journalists were put on trial,
of which 31 journalists were imprisoned,
receiving between them a total sentence of 3,315 years and 6 months

300 journalists were attacked

3 were shot to death

all newspapers were shut down for a total of 300 days

303 cases were brought against 13 major newspapers

39 tons of books, newspapers and magazines were burnt

a further 40 tons were put in storage for future destruction

Meanwhile, in prison:

a total of 299 people died in prison

144 died under suspicious circumstances

14 died of hunger strike

16 were shot trying to escape

73 deaths were certified as due to natural causes

43 were certified as due to suicide

10 years on in 1990, 52,000 still languished in jail

* translated from Turkish newspaper Evrensel dated Sept. 22, 2006

When Harold met Orhan

Not that the world sat by in silence toward this shocking indictment. With the influx of political refugees, mostly to (then West) Germany in particular, what started as a trickle grew in momentum with European state governments expressing their concerns privately and publicly toward the military rulers. Only the US remained on side, even intervening to halt Turkey's expulsion from the Council of Europe. International human rights associations, however, were far more forthright in their condemnation and investigations. Amnesty International took note and estimated that a quarter of a million were arrested and tortured in the clampdown (Amnesty International, "Turkey: Human Rights Denied," November 1988).

As a fortuitous sideline to this tragic and bloody period of Turkish history, in March 1985, the International PEN association -- formed in 1921 " to promote friendship and intellectual cooperation among writers everywhere, to fight for freedom of expression and represent the conscience of world literature" -- sent two internationally acclaimed playwrights to Turkey, to investigate and report back on the situation. Their guide for their visit to the incarcerated wordsmiths in Istanbul was a little-known (outside of these borders) 34-year-old Turkish writer. The two playwrights were Harold Pinter and Arthur Miller; their prison-tour host, one Orhan Pamuk.

As he described the event later, he was politically uninvolved with the events of the day, his motivation being to spend time "in the company of two great writers." However, and nonetheless for it, the experience of meeting those merely incarcerated for their written and spoken words shifted his perspective: "Until then I had stood on the margins of the political world, never entering unless coerced, but now, as I listened to suffocating tales of repression, cruelty, and outright evil, I felt drawn to this world through guilt— drawn to it, too, by feelings of solidarity."

Pinter took the Nobel Prize for Literature back home as the ninth British writer ever to receive such an accolade in 2005; one year before Pamuk became the first ever Turk to win the prestigious award. As was the case for Pamuk in Turkey, Pinter too faced accusations in sections of the British press that his award was politically motivated in the wake of his poems and speeches raging against the 2003 US-UK led invasion of Iraq. But you can bet the noise was minimal and the celebration to the max, with bookstores across Britain not failing to milk the marketing opportunity to the hilt. One year on in October 2006, with Turkey's honored son garnering international recognition for Turkish literature, the reaction here was far more profoundly shocking.

At the time, I was teaching in a university, and with Orhan Pamuk's picture plastered all over the front pages, and not necessarily with celebratory headlines, I came across far too many 18 and 19 year olds happy to label him as a "traitor" and the award as a "conspiracy" such is the mindset in some quarters. That sentiment was echoed in the silence from the very top of the state, with President Ahmet Necdet Sezer singularly failing to congratulate Orhan Pamuk. And that echo reverberating further still on the streets, if the muted response of the business-as-usual bookstore displays in downtown Istanbul was anything to go by. Passing through Istanbul's main thoroughfare, Istiklal Caddesi, one day during the weeks following Pamuk's prize, I counted two (at most) bookstores, among many, taking advantage of the Nobel announcement to sell a few more books. Obviously the other stores didn't want to risk a cardboard cut-out of the controversial writer, who'd "insulted Turkishness" in one sentence, adorning their shop windows. The cost of a glazier was obviously more important than the price of freedom of speech, considering the existence of Ogün Samast, Yasin Hayal and their flag-waving friends in the security forces here. Certainly, Orhan Pamuk's lengthy absence abroad these days isn't going unnoticed.

The legacy of the 1980 coup

Before we leave the Turkish 80s we should note one last, and still lasting, legacy of Gen. Kenan Evren's military intervention of 1980. Before handing back the nation to "civilian rule" -- through a general election consisting of three military-approved political parties in November 1983 -- the previous constitution of 1961 was scrapped. During their tenure, the ruling military junta put together a 160-member advisory body to write a fresh constitution, which was ratified through public referendum on Nov. 7, 1982. Two days later, Kenan Evren became president, overseeing the nation for the next seven years. The Turkish Constitution of 1982, on the other hand, oversees the nation to this very day.

Coup #4: The 'postmodern coup'

The fourth coup effectively began on Feb. 28, 1997, also the date for a National Security Council (MGK) regularly scheduled meeting. With the close of the meeting, came the expected publication of the (then) military-run council report. Nothing unusual in that respect, except on this occasion the document was released with an 18-point appendix attached. In short, the 18 recommendations -- addressed to the coalition government of the day -- constituted an ultimatum, no less.

Thus, the second "coup by memorandum" had arrived. Later, it became widely dubbed the "postmodern coup" by the Turkish press and academia alike because -- unlike in '71 with then-PM Demirel's instant resignation -- the incumbent of '97, Necmettin Erbakan, took a while longer to dislodge. Erbakan, along with his now-defunct Welfare Party (RP), had raised the ire of the military with his "Islamic agenda." Sound familiar? Maybe, but Erbakan had no time for the West (at one time referring to them as ruled by "racist imperialism and Zionism") and during his tenure replaced state agency staff with his own supporters, allowing female state employees to wear headscarves -- which, unlike today, was not illegal -- as well as opening the first form of state-supported "Imam-Hatip" religious schools and wooing Libya and Iran as part of his foreign policy.

After promising to heed the demands of the military, Erbakan dithered for four months, and on June 11 the General Staff of the armed forces issued a clearer warning that "weapons would be used if necessary in the struggle against fundamentalism."

The following day, Erbakan resigned and the following year the Constitutional Court dissolved the Welfare Party, banning its leaders from politics for the next five years.

The April 27, 2007, process...

And there we have it: coups in 1960, 1971, 1980 and 1997. Which isn't quite the heavily summarized "once a decade" description I gave it earlier when there's obviously 17 years difference between the last two coups. But if you'll forgive the poetic license and consider that the 1980 junta held the reins of power for a near-four years, the 13-year remainder of democratic process isn't so far off. But it's a moot point anyway, as it isn't the numerical difference that determines the arrival of a coup ... though it's interesting to note just how long it is before the will of the army supersedes the will of the people who are obviously too ignorant to make their voice known via the ballot box. So, while we're revising the numbers here, it is suffice to say, based on present evidence and historical experience, there exists not four coup processes in the history of the Republic of Turkey, but five: the one we are in.

On the day of the first round of the presidential election on April 27 of this year, the TSK stepped in once more; this time designating their opinion on the matter at hand via their Web site, www.tsk.mil.tr (in Turkish, but highlights in English can be found on the BBC News Web site). The crux of their concern read:

"The problem that emerged in the presidential election process is focused on arguments over secularism. The Turkish Armed Forces are concerned about the recent situation. It should not be forgotten
that the Turkish Armed Forces are a party in those arguments, and absolute defender of secularism. Also, the Turkish Armed Forces are definitely opposed to those arguments and negative comments. It will display its attitude and action openly and clearly whenever it is necessary."

And the matter at hand, or, as the TSK put it, "the problem that emerged in the presidential process" is merely the tip of an iceberg manufactured by a coterie of retired and serving generals, former and sitting judges (read the Constitutional Court), tabloid news editors and leaders of opposition parties. Their shared endgame is to unseat the democratically elected Justice and Development Party (AKP) by any and all means necessary. And not via the ballot box either, but a Pandora's box which I aim to crowbar open, and coming soon.