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Political Islam in Turkey

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Political Islam in Turkey Running West, Heading East?

Gareth Jenkins

political islam in turkey Copyright © Gareth Jenkins, 2008. All rights reserved. First published in 2008 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™ 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS. Companies and representatives throughout the world. PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978-1-4039-6883-8 ISBN-10: 1-4039-6883-7 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Jenkins, Gareth. Political Islam in Turkey : running west, heading east? / by Gareth Jenkins. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-4039-6883-7 1. Islam and state—Turkey. 2. Islam and politics—Turkey. 3. Islam—Turkey— History. 4. Turkey—Politics and government. I. Title. BP173.6.J46 2008 320.5'5709561—dc22

2007048023

A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library. Design by Scribe Inc. First edition: June 2008 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.

“The Turkish elite are like a man running West on the deck of a ship heading East” Sakallı Celal (1886–1962)


Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction: Islam and Politics

1

1

From Shamanism to Caliphate

17

2

Reform and Religious Homogenization

47

3

The Creation of the Kemalist State

81

4

The Reemergence of Islam

111

5

From Periphery to Mainstream

141

6

Violent Islamist Organizations

183

Conclusion

213

Notes

219

Index

263


Acknowledgments

Many people gave generously of their time during the course of the research for this book. It is impossible to name them all and unfair to single out just a few. Nevertheless, I would like to express my gratitude to Terry Taylor for his encouragement and patience when the delay in the delivery of the manuscript must frequently have been the cause of considerable frustration. Begüm Saruhan’s diligence during the early stages of the research was invaluable; and her conscientiousness during a sustained period of severe ill-health often humbling. Yağmur Acar provided an absorbing account of her experience of an İmam Hatip school education, and her ability to communicate with pious Muslim women offered insights unavailable to a non-Muslim male. I shall always been indebted to Hale Sert and to Mücahit Sami Küçüktiğli for their efforts in arranging interviews with pious businessmen and members of Muslim organizations in Konya. In Tunceli, Ferit Demir was more helpful than he will ever realize. My only regret is that my visit was cut so short by the November 2003 bombings in Istanbul. I would like to express my appreciation to Dr. Meltem Türköz for lending me a copy of her unpublished doctoral thesis on the Surname Law of 1934. I am particularly indebted to Vangelis Arateos for his generosity with documentary resources and his contacts and for his—and his wife Delphine’s—unfailing friendship and support when I began to despair of ever delivering a completed manuscript. I would also like to thank the many Turks from both sides of the secularist/ Islamist divide who spent many hours meeting with me, often on condition of anonymity. Although constraints of space have prevented me from examining in depth many of the issues we discussed, I remain grateful to them both for sharing their expertise and for their unstinting kindness and hospitality. I am aware that all will disagree with at least some of my conclusions. I only hope that they understand that they were sincerely made. I owe a special debt of gratitude to my daughter Pınar, not only for sharing her unique insights into being on the consumer end of a Turkish elementary school religious education but also for her forbearance when the time spent in front of the computer or foraging in obscure sections of bookshops made me less attentive than I would have liked to have been. It is to her that this book is dedicated.


Introduction

Islam and Politics

R

eligions do not lend themselves easily to rational, cool-headed debate. They arouse such passion that, for even the most liberal modern iconoclast, they often remain a last taboo. Such discussions as do take place are frequently characterized by platitudes and prejudice; with “positive prejudice” tending to be more insidious and harder to identify than its more virulent negative counterpart. Yet neither is based on a deductive analysis of the religion itself. Nowhere is this truer than in Western attitudes towards Islam. In recent years, public debate about Islam in the West has both intensified and become more polarized. To its detractors, Islam is a rigid, oppressive, and outdated monolith which breeds violence and terrorism and is incompatible with the value system that is now viewed as an integral part of the Western notion of democracy. At the other extreme, apologists point to Islam’s diversity and argue that it is not only compatible with “democratic values”1 but is inherently peaceful and tolerant. To a large extent, both are products of cultural arrogance, as they assume that a value system which has arisen within the Western historical tradition is a universal benchmark for others to emulate. It is a misleading and ultimately insulting vanity; for it effectively denies the uniqueness of the Muslim faith. Islam is different; not only from Judaism and Christianity, the other two products of the Abrahamic tradition, but from any other major faith. This difference lies not so much in its claim to a unique truth—a trait it shares with virtually every other religion—but in Muslim perceptions of the nature of the Qur’an and the ineluctable obligations this imposes on all believers. Despite the diversity of Muslim communities, the opportunity for flexibility in many of its practices, and even the possibility of limited doctrinal pluralism in specific areas, at Islam’s heart lies a set of core beliefs which are, were, and always will be unchanged and unchanging. As a result, for a devout Muslim, the essential question is not whether or not Islam is compatible with Western values but whether or not Western values are compatible with Islam.

Doctrine and Politics in Early Islamic History Islam has been political since its inception. Unlike other mainstream religions, which developed within—and often later expanded to envelope—existing political

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structures, the divine revelation of the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammad resulted in the creation of a discrete political entity defined by belief. Muhammad himself served not just as the community’s spiritual and political leader, and sole source of its founding scripture and legislation, but also as its military commander in war. Muhammad is believed to have been born in the city of Mecca in Arabia in approximately 570 CE. At the time of Muhammad’s birth, Mecca was already a major commercial and religious center and a place of pilgrimage to a polytheistic shrine in what is now known as the Ka’bah. As he approached middle age, Muhammad began to spend an increasing amount of time in the mountains surrounding Mecca, absorbed in meditation and reflection. Muslim tradition holds that it was here, when he was around forty years old, that Muhammad received a visit from the Angel Gabriel with the first revelation of the divine message to humankind known as the Qur’an. The revelations were to continue for the next twenty years. Three years after the first visitation, Muhammad began to try to share the revelations with the population of Mecca. Muhammad preached that he was the last in line of prophets—including Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, and Jesus—sent by God, and that his mission was to reveal the true divine message of monotheism which had been distorted by the Jewish and Christian traditions. He taught that the Ka’bah was really a monotheistic shrine which had been appropriated by polytheistic cults. Muhammad’s teachings met with a hostile reception. In 622, in what has become known as the Hijra, he fled with a small group of followers to the nearby town of Medina. As their numbers grew, it was in Medina that the embryonic community of Muslims first began to take shape. The rights and responsibilities of the nonMuslim communities in the town were regulated by what has become known as the Constitution of Medina,2 which left them free to practice their own religions under Muhammad’s overall political authority. After ten years, the Muslim community in Medina had grown strong enough to return to and conquer Mecca. The polytheistic idols in the Ka’bah were destroyed. It now became the holiest shrine in Islam and the site of the annual Muslim pilgrimage known as the hajj. Muhammad died in 632, shortly after leading the first hajj. The Qur’an was revealed to Muhammad piecemeal. He later recited the passages to his followers, who committed them to memory or wrote them down on whatever materials they could find. Muslim tradition holds that, although it severed a direct link with God, Muhammad’s death occurred after the Qur’an had been revealed in its entirety; and efforts began to compile the fragmented revelations into a single, authoritative text. The process was given greater urgency by the extraordinarily rapid expansion of the Muslim polity under Muhammad’s successors, the caliphs,3 who, like him, combined spiritual and temporal authority. Within a generation of Muhammad’s death, fired by the desire to spread their new faith, Muslim armies had conquered a vast swathe of territory stretching from the Atlantic Ocean to Central Asia and incorporating numerous ethnic groups, customs, and beliefs. The scattered fragments of the revelation were simply no longer sufficient to provide a legal framework for the regulation of such a huge and diverse domain.

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The compilation of an authoritative text of the Qur’an was completed by around 650 and has become known as the ‘Uthmanic codex, after the caliph of the time, ‘Uthman (ruled 644–656). But the formation of a comprehensive body of Islamic law, what is termed the Shari’a,4 took a further three centuries of often heated debate among Muslim jurists. Such debates resulted in the emergence of different schools of thought, but only one major schism; namely, that between the Sunni, who today account for approximately 90 percent of all Muslims, and the Shia. This schism had its origins in a power struggle for the leadership of the early Muslim community. In 661, Ali, the fourth caliph and Muhammad’s cousin, was murdered and succeeded by Muawiya, who was not related to the Prophet. Shia Muslims5 maintain that the caliphate should have remained in Muhammad’s bloodline, passing first to Ali’s sons, Hasan and Huseyin, and then to their descendants. Sunnis have traditionally adopted a more pragmatic approach, accepting whichever caliph appeared best able to ensure the proper practice of Islam and maintain order. Later, what had originally been a question of dynastic succession assumed a theological dimension, most significantly in the Shia doctrine of imamology. In Sunni Islam, the word imam is generally used to describe either the political head of the Muslim community or a leader of congregational prayer. However, for the Shia, the term describes someone with the divinely inspired, infallible ability to reveal the true, esoteric meaning of the Qur’an embedded in the exoteric text. Most Shia recognize twelve such imams, which has led to them also being known as Twelvers.6 The schism between the Sunni and the Twelver Shia coincided with the consolidation of Sunni orthodoxy, which was formally concluded in the early tenth century with what Islamic scholars refer to as the closing of “the gates of interpretation.” The process spawned a number of different schools of Sunni jurisprudence, or fiqh, all named after their founders. Four such schools have survived to the present day, namely: Hanafi, Maliki, Shafi-i, and Hanbali. However, the different schools differ from each other primarily in nuance and detail rather than core beliefs. Unlike the bloody clashes that have often characterized relations between the Sunni and the Shia, the members of the four schools of law within the Sunni tradition have traditionally regarded each other with mutual respect. At the time the gates of interpretation were closed, Islam was continuing to expand geographically. But the original single Muslim polity had already long since fragmented into a mosaic of independent states and fiefdoms, whose relative size and influence fluctuated with the political and military fortunes of their rulers. Starting in the twelfth century, fuelled more by the missionary activity of Muslim mystics and traders than military conquest, Islam penetrated sub-Saharan Africa, Anatolia, India, and eventually China, Malaysia, and Indonesia.7 But, although it remains the ideal for many, Muslims have never again been united in a single polity.

The Qur’an, Hadith, and Shari’a The centrality of the Qur’an to Islam has no parallel in any other major faith. The holy books of most religions tend to be the records of the deeds and teachings of divine beings or divinely inspired humans. The author, who may or may not be

4


writing under divine influence or inspiration, is human. As a result, the holy books have been created within time, taken shape within a specific cultural and historical context, and been molded from human language. However, for Muslims the Qur’an is the perfect, unmediated word of God, transmitted untouched and uncorrupted through the human filter of the Prophet Muhammad. The Qur’an is not merely flawless but uncreated and preexistent to the divinely created mortal world. It stands outside time.8 Its archetype is, always has been, and always will be in heaven, complete, unchanging, and unchangeable, and written in the same flawless Arabic in which it was revealed to Muhammad.9 As a result, although it may contain details of historical events, the teachings of the Qur’an stand aloof from any historical or cultural context. They are true for all time, for all circumstances, and for all believers. The Qur’an is not a sustained narrative. It consists of 6,346 verses divided into 114 chapters, known as Sura, which are arranged not thematically or according to the sequence in which they were revealed but in order of length, starting with the longest. Only around eighty of the verses in the Qur’an deal explicitly with legal matters. However, many others state or imply principles which, for believers, must necessarily inform the behavior of both the individual and the community. The teachings of the Qur’an are supplemented by the records of the traditions or sayings of the Prophet Muhammad in what is known as the hadith.10 The hadith were originally oral traditions and were not gathered into written compilations until the ninth century. Six collections are regarded by Sunni Muslims as being authoritative, of which two—those of al-Bukhari (810–70) and Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj (817–75)—are revered above all others. The compilers went to great lengths to prove the pedigree of each hadith.11 Each saying of the Prophet is accompanied by a list of the people through whom the oral tradition has been passed, all the way back to the original eyewitness. However, unlike the Qur’an, the hadith are regarded as human recollections of something which occurred within a historical context. As a result, in theory at least, the hadith lack the timeless magisterial power of the Qur’an and are often regarded more as a source of guidance than as inflexible imperatives. The word Islam literally means “submission”; and total submission to the will of God is the foundation of Muslim belief. However, the compilation of a comprehensive legal code which encapsulated the will of God presented the early Muslim jurists with a considerable challenge. Unlike most modern legal systems, the essence of the Shari’a could not evolve out of a particular community and be shaped by the collective experience and values of its members. From the Muslim perspective, it had already been formulated outside human experience; which was the context in which it was applied, not its source. The Shari’a thus had to be uncovered and extrapolated rather than created. The jurists’ primary sources were the Qur’an and the hadith. On some issues these were direct and unequivocal. But on many others they were less precise or even apparently contradictory. While other issues were not mentioned at all. As a result, the jurists had to flesh out the explicit revelation of the divine will by analyzing and interpreting relevant passages in the Qur’an or hadith in a process known as ijtihad.

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Although individual Islamic jurists could engage in ijtihad in their own right, their conclusions remained provisional until confirmed by a ijma, or “consensus,” of qualified scholars. Once ijma had been secured, the item could become part of the Shari’a and was sealed within it, immune to further amendment. In theory, the era of ijtihad came to an end in the early tenth century, and subsequent jurists have been bound by the principle of taqlid, or “imitation”: the unquestioning acceptance of the conclusions of their predecessors, as confirmed by ijma and recorded in the authoritative legal manuals. However, in practice, there continued to be amendments and additions—albeit relatively minor ones—through the succeeding centuries. There are also differences between the four Sunni schools of jurisprudence.12 Unlike the Hanafi, Maliki, and Shafi-i schools, the Hanbali school tends to view any human extrapolation from the Qur’an or the Sunnah as inherently dangerous and a potential source of doctrinal accretions or distortions;13 and has produced a number of revivalist movements calling for a return to a literalist reading of the sacred texts.14 In recent years, modernist members of the Hanafi school in particular have discussed reopening the gates of interpretation in order to allow the Shari’a to be reshaped in response to the rapidly changing circumstances in which it is applied. But such calls have met with considerable resistance, not least because Islam has a tendency to see tradition as the historicization of divine will;15 and the longevity of what is regarded as an unchanging body of Muslim law and practice is, in itself, often perceived as a proof of its legitimacy. However, there is no irrefutable theological obstacle to reopening the gates of interpretation. There are, however, limits to the extent to which the Shari’a can be reshaped by the reinterpretation of the Qur’an and the hadith. Logically, interpretation can only be applied to those parts of the Qur’an which are apparently unclear or to issues which are not explicitly covered by it, but for which a seemingly relevant passage can be used a source for extrapolation. However, given that the Qur’an is regarded as the perfect expression of divine will which is true for all time and for all circumstances, if the text of the Qur’an is unequivocal and clearly states both a principle and how it is to be applied, then there would appear to be little room for maneuver. Theoretically, the hadith would seem to offer greater scope for flexibility; not least because, even if their underlying principles are regarded as existing outside history, the hadith themselves have been phrased and taken their final form within time.16 It would thus be possible to argue that these underlying principles can be recontextualized to enable them to be applied in a manner in keeping with subsequent changes in prevailing circumstances. However, there can be no change to the underlying principles contained in the hadith, just in how they are implemented.

The Political Implications of the Qur’an Although Muslims have traditionally attached great importance to social stability, there is nothing in the Qur’an or the hadith that could be interpreted as advocating a particular mechanism of government. In essence, Islam is not so much

6


democratic or autocratic as nomocratic, in as much as it necessitates compliance with a pre-existent, divinely ordained legal code. This divine law precedes and controls society; it does not grow out of it as a continually evolving product of changing circumstances and values. Islam’s nomocratic nature means that it inevitably impinges on the political domain and—without a radical revision of core beliefs—makes it extremely difficult for any Muslim society to be completely secular. The only question is the extent to which Islam necessarily affects politics; and here its influence is neither total nor uniform. Although religious principles are expected to inform both the individual believer’s behavior and the regulation of the Muslim community, Islamic law does not— and, given life’s multifarious complexity, arguably cannot—dictate specific rules to govern every aspect of human activity. As a result, even in communities in which it has been applied, the Shari’a has accounted for only a portion of the laws on the statute book. In many cases, there have even been parallel legal systems, each with their own courts and statute books: one dealing with issues related to the Shari’a and the other with matters falling outside its remit.17 However, there are often differences between popular perceptions of Shari’a law and its actual remit. In many Muslim societies, traditional customs and practices have, through their persistence over centuries, become coated with a veneer of religious legitimacy to the extent that they are regarded as being Islamic.18 Yet, even when such cultural accretions are stripped away, it is still possible to argue that in a modern society not all of the Shari’a needs to be included in the statute book. The Shari’a is divided into two parts: one covers the believer’s relationship with God and includes details of ritual practices; and the other governs the believer’s relationships with other mortals. The former is primarily a question of personal conscience and remains in the private domain. The monitoring of compliance and the issuing of reward or punishment, whether in this world or the next, are divine prerogatives. However, the political authorities in a Muslim community are nevertheless expected to ensure that believers can practice their faith without restraint or hindrance. Ensuring the application of the second category, namely that part of the Shari’a which governs the way in which the believer interacts with other mortals, is a human responsibility; and the Shari’a not only specifies the offences which are classed as religious crimes but also how transgressors are to be punished. Yet, even here, it would theoretically be possible to argue that the different tiers of authority within the Shari’a leave some room for maneuver. An acknowledgment of a degree of flexibility is already implicit in the Sunni acceptance of four different schools of Islamic jurisprudence However, this can only apply to those parts of the Shari’a which are the result of human interpretation and/or deductive reasoning and which are embedded in the historical process—such as those which are based on the hadith. For those parts of the Shari’a which are based on explicit, unequivocal statements in the Qur’an, there is no room for flexibility. A religious imperative from an omniscient, omnipotent God in a perfect book whose tenets are true for all time and in all circumstances does not leave the believer with any choice. In as much as it is humanly possible, it must be obeyed.

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Crime and Punishment There are only a handful of instances in which the verses of the Qur’an related to the regulation of human interaction both specify an offence and the punishment to be meted out to transgressors. All of them fall within the category known in the Shari’a as hadd, or “serious crime.” They include theft, for which the punishment is amputation (Surah 5:38), and sexual relations outside marriage, for which the punishment is one hundred lashes (Surah 24:2).19 Given the severity of the punishment, Shari’a courts have traditionally demanded high levels of proof, such as confessions or witnesses. The Qur’an also states that thieves who confess their guilt and mend their ways will be pardoned by God (Surah 5:39). While those who falsely accuse a woman of sexual relations outside marriage and cannot produce four witnesses to support their claim are themselves to be punished with eighty lashes (Surah 24:4). The Qur’an also explicitly forbids murder. However, instead of stipulating a specific penalty, it states that the punishment should be based on the principle of qisas or “retaliation,” in which the offender is subject to the same treatment as the victim; with a warning that vengeance should not be carried to excess (Surah 17:33). As a result, in the case of murder, the courts and political authorities serve only as facilitators of justice. The actual punishment is meted out by the victim’s family. In practice, Shari’a courts have, based on several hadith,20 often encouraged families to accept blood money rather than physical retribution. Islamic jurists have traditionally maintained that the Qur’an decrees the death penalty for apostasy. In fact, although the Qur’an several times describes apostasy as an abhorrent crime punishable by an eternity in Hell (for example, Surah 47:23– 28, 3:86–91, 16:106, 4:137), the only verse which explicitly advocates the killing of apostates in this life is addressed directly to Muhammad and instructs him, rather than believers in general, “to make war on them” (Surah 9:73). However, it does add that God will punish apostates in this world as well as the next, and that: “They shall have none on earth to protect or help them” (Surah 9:74).21

Treatment of Non-Muslims Attitudes towards non-Muslims are more complex and contentious. The Qur’an differentiates between Ahl al-Kitab, or “People of the Book,” and other non-Muslims. It explicitly refers to Jews and Christians as People of the Book (for example, Surah 3:64–71), although, as Islam expanded through Asia and encountered other religious traditions, some Muslim rulers extended the definition to include Zoroastrians and even Hindus and Buddhists.22 Several passages of the Qur’an instruct Muslims to treat the People of the Book with respect (for example, Surah 3:113–115, 3:199 and 29:46) and suggest that the righteous among them will be granted eternal life in paradise: for example, “Believers, Jews, Christians, and Sabaeans—whoever believes in God and the Last Day and does what is right—shall be rewarded by their Lord; they have nothing to fear or to regret” (Surah 2:62).23 However, the Peoples of the Book in Muslim-controlled territory are expected to pay a special alms levy known as the jizya (Surah 9:29) in return for protection by their Muslim rulers.

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Yet other passages in the Qur’an adopt a more adversarial approach, particularly towards the Jews who are described as cursed by God, “ever deceitful” (Surah 5:13) and “implacable in their enmity to the faithful” (Surah 5:82). Surah 5:51 warns Muslims: “Believers, take neither Jews nor Christians for your friends. They are friends with one another. Whoever of you seeks their friendship shall become one of their number. God does not guide the wrongdoers.”24 Non-Muslim scholars have tended to ascribe this apparent paradox to deteriorating relations between the early Muslim community and local Jewish tribes as cohabitation and cooperation gave way to hostility and even open warfare. However, from the Muslim perspective, although the Qur’an can foretell historical events, it cannot be shaped by them. Nor, given the perfection of the Qur’an, can it contradict itself. Whatever the explanation, the different passages continue to provide ammunition both to those who claim that Islam is tolerant of non-Muslims and to those who maintain that it is inherently antagonistic towards them; although, logically, their paradoxical nature would appear to make it impossible to argue for one extreme to the total exclusion of the other. The attitude of the Qur’an to faiths whose members are not included in the People of the Book would seem to be less ambivalent. One of the most problematic passages in the Qur’an is what is known as the Verse of the Sword (Surah 9:5), which states: “When the sacred months are over slay the idolaters wherever you find them. Arrest them, besiege them, and lie in ambush everywhere for them. If they repent and take to prayer and render the alms levy, allow them to go their way. God is forgiving and merciful.”25 The Qur’an does not define the term idolaters (the Arabic mushrik is also sometimes translated as “polytheist” or “pagan”), although they are generally assumed to be distinct from the People of the Book. In the absence of a clear definition of what constitutes idolatry, many Muslims have historically chosen simply to ignore the verse. Others have argued that it was revealed to address specific historical circumstances, namely the early Muslim community’s wars with pagan tribes in seventh century Arabia, and should not be applied to any other situation. Yet this is not explicitly stated in the Qur’an. As a result, militant extremists have frequently used the verse, combined with their own definition of what constitutes idolatry, as religious justification for holy war (jihad) against non-Muslims, including civilians.26

Jihad The Qur’an does not specify what is meant by jihad or the precise circumstances under which it is permissible or obligatory. Taken literally, the word means “struggle,” rather than “war.” Many moderate Muslims have argued that it should be interpreted as a general struggle against wrongdoing in the world; while Sufi mystics often consider it as an internal spiritual struggle against evil within the self. However, the examples of jihad in the Qur’an involve physical violence against those seen as the enemies of Islam. It is only in the hadith that the definition is explicitly broadened to include other forms of struggle.27

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Both the Qur’an and hadith state not only that jihad is a religious obligation28 but that, even if it is not necessarily synonymous with violence, there are circumstances when it at least includes violence.29 During the Prophet’s lifetime, jihad appears to have been used to describe both defensive warfare against hostile neighboring tribes and aggressive campaigns to propagate Islam and expand the political influence of the fledgling Muslim community. After Muhammad’s death, jihad became almost solely offensive. The early Muslims divided the world into two regions: the Dar al-Islam (Arabic for the “House of Submission,” meaning territory under Muslim rule) and the Dar al-Harb (Arabic for the “House of War,” meaning the lands of infidels or unbelievers). The Qur’an promises participants in jihad both booty in this world and an eternity in Paradise in the next. But, in theory at least, Muslims are forbidden from making war on each other or on non-Muslim communities of the People of the Book who have accepted Muslim protection and suzerainty. Although the Qur’an condones the killing of enemy combatants in battle, it instructs Muslims to spare those who submit and embrace Islam (for example, Surah 9:5). Surah 2:190 warns against excessive aggressiveness: “Fight for the sake of God those that fight against you, but do not attack them first. God does not love aggressors.” Other passages instruct Muslims to seek a peaceful solution before initiating hostilities. For example, Surah 8:61 states: “If they incline to peace, make peace with them, and put your trust in God.”30 However, other passages are more confrontational. For example, Surah 9:123 declares: “Believers, make war on the infidels who dwell around you. Deal firmly with them. Know that God is with the righteous.” The Qur’an also specifies severe punishment for those who fight against Islam: “Those that make war against God and His apostle and spread disorder in the land shall be slain or crucified or have their hands and feet cut off on alternate sides, or be banished from the land” (Surah 5:34). But Muslim law has nevertheless traditionally forbidden the slaying of innocents, citing Surah 6:151, which states: “You shall not kill—for that is forbidden by God—except for a just cause.”31 While several hadith explicitly prohibit the deliberate killing of women and children even in war.32

Slavery The Qur’an treats slavery as a reality of society.33 It focuses on the treatment of slaves rather than whether slavery as an institution should be encouraged or outlawed. Muslims, including Muhammad, are assumed to have owned slaves, including female slaves captured in war who could be used as concubines (Surah 33:50). However, they are instructed to treat slaves well (Surah 4:36). Muslim men are told to prefer marriage to a believing slave rather than to a non-believing free woman (Surah 2:221) and are forbidden from forcing female slaves into prostitution (Surah 24:34). Manumission is regarded as highly meritorious (for example, Surah 24:33 and 90:13). Muslims are also encouraged to free a slave in recompense for offences such as breaking an oath (Surah 5:89) or killing a believer (Surah 4:92).

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Gender Issues Western critics frequently accuse Islam of endorsing the suppression, and even abuse, of women by restricting their involvement in the public domain and subordinating them to their male relatives in the private sphere. Apologists argue, with considerable justification, that many of the customs, practices, and beliefs in Muslim societies are the product of patriarchal values which are unrelated to Islam and can be found in many non-Muslim societies. They also note that, by the standards of seventh-century Arabia, women played a prominent role in early Muslim history and that the Qur’an explicitly condemns brutal discriminatory practices such as the killing of unwanted female infants, which was not uncommon among some Arab tribes at the time. Yet it is difficult to argue with any degree of conviction that the Qur’an advocates gender equality. Although both men and women enjoy equal access to Paradise, their respective roles in society are unequivocally differentiated and asymmetrical. There are four verses in the Qur’an (Surah 3:195, 4:124, 16:97, and 40:40) in which God states that all believers, regardless of gender, will be rewarded or punished in the afterlife for their deeds. Yet, although some passages in the Qur’an are aimed at both sexes, a disproportionately large number are clearly addressed solely to men. While the descriptions in the Qur’an of Paradise, with their repeated promise of beautiful maidens waiting to fulfill believers’ every desire, would appear to be almost exclusively targeted at heterosexual males. The Qur’an regards menstruating women as “impure” or “polluted” (Surah 2:222). It also warns men to ensure that, after sexual intercourse with a woman, they wash themselves before performing their prayers. There are no similar instructions for women. In Surah 2:223, Muslim males are bluntly told: “Women are your fields. Go into them as you please.”34 The Qur’an states that men have authority over women in marriage (Surah 4:34). A man is allowed to have up to four wives at one time, in addition to as many concubines as he desires (Surah 4:3); neither of these rights is granted to women, who are expected to be monogamous and, with the exception of sexual relations with their husbands, chaste. The Qur’an also gives men the right to divorce their wives through repudiation (Surah 2:230), while remaining ambiguous on a women’s right to initiate divorce proceedings.35 However, it does provide a measure of protection for women by insisting that a man may only take more than one wife if he can treat them all equitably (Surah 4:3) and by ensuring material compensation for the wife if he decides to divorce her (Surah 2:241). Yet, even though men are enjoined to treat their wives with kindness (Surah 4:19), the Qur’an leaves no doubt that a wife’s duty is to be obedient to her husband and that he has the right to discipline her, physically if necessary, if she does not comply with his wishes (Surah 4:34).36 The same asymmetry can be found in the injunctions in the Qur’an on inheritance and testimony. The Qur’an states that males shall inherit twice as much as females (Surah 4:11) and that, if male witnesses to a commercial transaction are unavailable, the testimony of two women shall be regarded as equal to that of a single man (Surah 2:282).

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The Qur’an also includes directives on how women should dress, although their precise meaning remains a topic of often heated debate. Surah 33:59 instructs the Prophet Muhammad to tell his “wives and daughters and women of true believers to draw their outer garments close around them [when they go out and are among men].”37 Surah 24:31 states that Muslim women should “draw their outer garments over their bosoms and not display their finery” except to their husbands, small children, and certain categories of relative and servant.38 Most Muslim jurists have interpreted this dress code as including the covering of the women’s hair, although this is not explicitly stated in the Qur’an.39

Economics and Finance It is often assumed that, in addition to instructing Muslims to be just and honest in their business dealings (Surah 7:85), the Qur’an also forbids believers from paying or receiving interest. This is slightly misleading. What the Qur’an forbids is riba, which literally means “excess” or “addition.” The injunctions in the Qur’an against riba are blunt and unambiguous. Surah 2:276 declares that: “God has laid his curse on riba.” While Surah 2:278 and 2:279 warn those who are expecting to profit from riba transactions: “Believers, fear God and waive what is due to you from riba, if your faith is true; or God and His apostle shall declare war against you.”40 But the Qur’an does not define riba, and its precise meaning has long been a subject of heated, and often convoluted, debate among Islamic scholars. It is usually translated into English as “usury.” Yet even here there is an ambiguity, as the word usury can be used to describe both the lending of money at interest and, more commonly, the lending of money at an exorbitant, excessive, or illegal rate of interest. Most Islamic scholars have tended to interpret riba as meaning any form of interest earned or levied on a financial transaction. However, historically, not only have non-Muslim moneylenders charging interest frequently been tolerated in Muslim societies, but there is also a minority tradition which sees riba as referring merely to excessive rates of interest. Nevertheless, interest payments retained sufficient stigma to prevent the Muslim world from developing a Western-style capitalist banking system. It was only in the late twentieth century that the Muslim world was finally able to establish its own sophisticated financial system through the development of what were seen as religiously permissible financing techniques. These were mainly based on the concept of profit and loss sharing through silent partnerships (known by the Arabic term mudaraba) and deferred ownership (such as in leasing) rather than the loaning of money at interest.

Political Systems The Qur’an does not advocate a specific political system or form of government. Provided that it is not despotic, Muslim tradition has been less concerned with

12


whether a regime is autocratic, oligarchic, or democratic than whether it protects Islamic values and allows believers to fulfill their religious obligations.41 The Qur’an makes no explicit reference to a priestly class; and thus does not endow a clergy with a regulatory role in daily life. As a result, in mainstream Sunni Islam theology, the members of the clergy are regarded as equal members of the community who guide and assist their fellow believers in the fulfillment of their religious obligations, rather than serving as intermediaries between believers and God. In the ideal Muslim society, ultimate sovereignty belongs to God rather than the community, government, or state. It is the divine rather than the popular will which matters. Surah 6:116 of the Qur’an warns against seeking “a judge other than God.” When it comes to compliance with the dictates of the Qur’an, the opinion of the majority of the community is irrelevant. Indeed, Surah 6:116 warns Muhammad: “If you obeyed the majority of those on earth, they would lead you astray from God’s path.” However, the Qur’an stresses the need for consultation between ruler and ruled on matters not covered by religious edicts; a principle which appears to have been applied by Muhammad during his own lifetime. For example, Surah 3:110 states: “Consult with them upon the conduct of affairs.” While Surah 42:38 describes the righteous as “those who obey their Lord, attend to their prayers, and conduct their affairs after mutual consultation.” The tradition of Muslims being led by a caliph, who exercises spiritual and temporal authority over the community of believers, is based on the precedent set by Muhammad. There is no reference to the caliphate in the Qur’an. The epithet often associated with the Ottoman sultans, in which they were described as “God’s shadow on earth,” is anathema to many Sunni theologians because it conflicts with the widespread belief that, in spiritual terms, all Muslims are equal before God.

Personal Obligations Sunni Muslim tradition holds that all believers are expected to fulfill five basic duties, which are popularly known as the Five Pillars of Islam: • The Shahadah, or “testimony,” which must be recited by every Muslim at least once in a lifetime and which states: “I testify that there is no god but God and that Muhammad is the prophet of God.” • The Salah, or the prayers which must be performed at five specified times each day.42 Each salah is performed facing towards the Ka’bah in Mecca. Unless circumstances dictate otherwise, the salah is compulsory. • Zakat, or the giving of alms to the poor and needy. The zakat is obligatory for all Muslims of sufficient means and consists of giving a set proportion of one’s wealth to charity—typically calculated as 2.5 percent—on a systematic basis.43 • Sawm, or fasting from sunrise to sunset during the Islamic holy month of Ramadan (Surah 2:183–85). During the fast, Muslims are required to abstain from food, drink, and sexual intercourse.44

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• The hajj, or the pilgrimage to the Ka’bah in Mecca (Surah 2:196–200). All ablebodied Muslims with sufficient means must make the pilgrimage at least once during their lifetime.

Sufism Although Islam is arguably the most scriptural of the world’s great faiths, it also has a rich tradition of mysticism known in Arabic as tasawwuf, or Sufism. In its warmth and immediacy of experience, Sufism serves as a counterweight both to the eschatology and moralistic teachings of the Qur’an and the hadith and to the abstruse debates of Islamic jurisprudence. Sufism is thought to take its name from the Arabic for “dressed in wool,” in a reference to the woolen cloaks worn by its early adherents. Sufis believe that, in addition to the exoteric Qur’an and hadith, Muhammad also instructed some of his close associates in an esoteric tradition, which included initiation procedures and prescribed disciplines. This tradition has been transmitted through the silsilah, a human chain of holy men known as “sheikhs,”45 stretching back to the seventh century. Unlike the Qur’an, in which the believer’s relationship with God is characterized by obedience, reward, and retribution, Sufism is based on the principle of unconditional, disinterested love for God irrespective of hope of Paradise or fear of Hell. As Sufism began to spread, it caused alarm among many orthodox Islamic theologians, who feared that it was advocating the subordination of exoteric Islamic observances and morality to esoteric personal experience. At times, the friction led to violence and even the execution of prominent Sufis on charges of trying to abolish the “outer acts” of Islamic observance.46 Gradually, however, the Sufis and the orthodox theologians moved towards an accommodation. The turning point is generally acknowledged to be the writings of the Iranian-born theologian and mystic Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (1058–1111), whose most famous work, “The Revival of the Religious Sciences,” finally made Sufism an acceptable part of orthodox Islam.47 Yet, even today, many Islamic theologians remain deeply suspicious of such Sufi practices as the veneration of saints. While hard-line scripturalists, such as the Wahhabis, still regard Sufism as being essentially un-Islamic. Sufism’s acceptance into the Islamic mainstream was quickly followed by its institutionalization through the establishment of fraternal orders, which became known as tariqah, from the Arabic for “road” or “path.” The first tariqah began to take shape within a generation of al-Ghazali’s death. It was founded by Abd alQadir al-Jilani (c. 1077–1166), an Iranian-born mystic who defined Sufism as a jihad against one’s own egotism and worldliness in order to be able to submit to God’s will. Over the centuries, the number of tariqah has proliferated. However, each has continued to trace a pedigree of transmission and succession through a silsilah that extends all the way back to Muhammad. Sometimes a sheikh of a particular tariqah trains and nominates a single successor. At other times, he may choose two or three of his followers, each of whom he believes is sufficiently qualified to lead a community. They, in turn, name their own successors. The result has been something akin

14


to a family tree, in which all of the members share a common “ancestor” (namely, the Prophet Muhammad) but identify themselves with a particular “bloodline” and follow a set of rituals or disciplines which have been consolidated by a specific historical sheikh; after whom the bloodline is named. In terms of core religious belief, there is usually little to distinguish between the various tariqah.48 Nearly all are orthodox Sunni Muslims and abide by the observances of exoteric Islam contained in the Qur’an and the hadith. The differences between them lie more in the esoteric rites and practices through which they seek to express and experience divine love. For example, the members of the Mawlawiyah or Mevlevi tariqah, named after the thirteenth-century mystic Mevlana Jalal al’Din Rumi (c. 1207–73), whirl to a musical accompaniment during their ritual prayers; and have thus become known in the West as the Whirling Dervishes. Others are more introspective. For example, members of the Naqshbandi order hold regular discussion groups and have as their central dhikr, or “ritual,” the silent contemplation of God. Sufi missionaries played a key role in Islam’s rapid territorial expansion into Asia from the twelfth century onwards. The new converts were almost all illiterate, nonArabic speakers, which severely limited their access to the message of the Qur’an and the intricacies of Islamic law. But Sufi practices and the exhilaration of the doctrine of divine love were not only attractive in themselves but were also reminiscent of the ecstatic rituals familiar from the shamanism in their own indigenous religions. In addition, unlike orthodox Islamic theologians, the Sufi missionaries were often prepared to allow new converts an initial degree of flexibility in terms of full compliance with Shari’a law. As a result, many were effectively converted first to Sufism and only later to orthodox, exoteric Islam. As it spread through the Muslim world, Sufism had a huge impact on the local culture of Islamic communities, coloring the daily lives of believers at the same time as the Shari’a and the Qur’an regulated them. Unlike the work of the theologians, which tended to be written in Arabic, Sufism produced a prodigious volume of hagiographies and collections of the tenets of the various orders in the vernacular. While Sufi poetry formed the foundation for the development of national literatures in languages as diverse as Turkish, Farsi, and Punjabi.

Islam and Secularism The concept of secularism in the sense of the removal of religion and religious considerations from temporal affairs is a product of the Christian West. Initially at least, it grew out of a desire to eliminate not religious principles but the temporal influence and authority of religious institutions. Even today, secularism is still sometimes regarded as the separation of Church and state rather than religion and state. Islam has no indigenous tradition of secularism. This is probably partly the result of the different role of religious institutions in Muslim society. Traditionally, the most powerful religious institution in Sunni Muslim society has been the class of learned scholars known as the ulema.49 But the ulema are theologians rather than priests. Their primary function is as interpreters and formulators of

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religious doctrine rather than as practitioners of the rituals of worship. Indeed, in theory at least, any believer can perform liturgical functions such as leading communal prayer. Nevertheless, the ulema have often exercised considerable political influence—particularly in the Ottoman and Mughal Empires—and even occasionally challenged the authority of the temporal ruler on issues which have been perceived as impinging on the religious sphere. However, their influence has tended to be informal. They have never established highly structured, hierarchical mass organizations similar to the larger Christian churches.50 But the main reason for the lack of a secularist tradition in Islamic societies lies in the religion itself. Islam’s pluralism and diversity of practice exists around a remarkably homogenous set of core beliefs centered on the conviction that the Qur’an is the perfect, timeless word of God—a handbook for life, not just for the individual but also for the community of believers. Islamic theologians have traditionally taken a practical approach to the fulfillment of the requirements of the Qur’an, acknowledging, for example, that a Muslim cannot be expected to abide by some of its tenets (such as those related to the punishment of crime) while living in a predominantly non-Muslim society. However, such exemptions cannot apply in an independent, self-governing Muslim polity. The complexity of modern life and the relatively small number of explicit imperatives in the Qur’an related to the regulation of the community mean that its teachings may inform, but cannot always dictate, every aspect of public and political life. But, if, as Muslims believe, it is the perfect word of God, true for all times and all circumstances, and it contains explicit imperatives related to the regulation of communal life, then neither can these imperatives be ignored. Debates over the full meaning of specific verses of the Qur’an—and the role of the hadith in shaping Islamic law—have created a degree of flexibility in terms of the extent to which religion necessarily shapes the regulation of a Muslim polity. But the total exclusion of the explicit imperatives of the Qur’an would be a major challenge not only to theological orthodoxy but to divine will. As a result, although the role played by Islam in political and public life varies between Muslim states, only one has sought to remove it in its entirety and create a completely secular state; and that country is Turkey. How this has been done, and the repercussions it has had, are the subject of this book.


1

From Shamanism to Caliphate

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ations are artifacts, not natural phenomena. They are cultural and conceptual, not biological, entities. They are created over time: imagined into being and then nurtured until they become self-perpetuating. But they require initial defining characteristics, concrete differences around which nationalist myths can be spun. When the concept of nationalism was imported into the Ottoman Empire from Europe in the nineteenth century, there was no Turkish national consciousness. For the subjects of the Ottoman Empire, collective identity was based primarily on religion. Conceptually, and to a certain extent administratively, the Ottoman sultans ruled over a patchwork of communities defined by belief; and it was along these religious boundaries that the first fissures in the empire began to appear, as non-Muslim communities in its European provinces broke away to form what would eventually become independent states. Although the emphasis of official state ideology was later to shift, when the Turkish Republic was founded from the ruins of the Ottoman Empire in 1923, the primary—though not sole—criterion by which Turks were distinguished from nonTurks was not land, language, or race, but religion. Following the foundation of the Turkish Republic, the emphasis of Turkish nationalist ideology shifted increasingly towards language and race rather than religion. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881–1938), the country’s founding president, enshrined the principle of secularism in the country’s constitution, promoted the use of an “original” Turkish language unsullied by foreign loanwords, and commissioned the rewriting of Turkish history to create a pedigree for the new nation state.1 In common with many other nationalist ideologues of the time, Atatürk adopted the now discredited theory of racial determinism propounded by JosephArthur Gobineau (1816–82). He used the cephalic index2 to try to prove not only that there was a distinct Turkish race but that it had always existed, temporarily hidden beneath Ottoman or Islamic identities, where it awaited rediscovery and reawakening. The traditional view had long been that the Ottoman Empire was founded by the descendants of Turkish-speaking nomads from Central Asia who had begun to settle in Anatolia in the eleventh century, conquered the indigenous inhabitants, and coalesced into a sophisticated state. Atatürk’s new history, which became known as the Türk Tarih Tezi, or “Turkish History Thesis,” argued that these nomads were

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merely one part of an unbroken biological continuum which, over a period of more than two thousand years, had established not just the Ottoman Empire but 15 other great states3 before finally founding, as its crowning achievement, the Turkish Republic in 1923. In fact, the only undoubted continuum is linguistic rather than biological. Modern Turkish is a member of the Turkic branch of the Altaic family of languages, which is thought to have originated in the Altai mountains to the north of modern Afghanistan and China. Even today, modern Turkish is still clearly recognizable in its phonology, morphology, and syntax as being closely related to the earliest surviving examples of a Turkic language: the eighth-century CE stone inscriptions in the Orkhon Valley in what is now Mongolia.4 But only nine5 of the 17 great states claimed by the Turkish History Thesis can be said with any confidence to have spoken a Turkic language; and amongst even them there is no evidence of an unbroken biological continuum. In terms of the distribution of blood groups, hereditary diseases, and the admittedly still limited data from DNA profiling, the population of modern Turkey is virtually indistinguishable from the peoples of the Levant and the Balkans.6 Perhaps more significantly, medical research has yet to produce any evidence of extensive biological ties between the population of modern Turkey and that of Central Asia.7 It is possible that, as the volume of DNA data increases, some biological remnants of the Turkic-speaking nomads may yet emerge. But the absence to date of any evidence at all suggests that such traces will be, at most, relatively small. It appears that, although the nomads and their descendants imposed their language and certain aspects of their culture on the peoples they conquered,8 biologically they were absorbed by them. Yet, despite their relentless inculcation through Turkish school textbooks, nationalist theories of language and race appear at best to have supplemented rather than replaced religion as a criterion for collective identity. Outside the urban elite, most modern Turks still see Islam as being a prerequisite for any definition of what it means to be Turkish. Even today, members of Turkey’s non-Muslim communities are still routinely referred to as “Greek/Armenian/Jewish/Syriac Turkish citizens” rather than “Turks.” While in the popular imagination it is the Ottoman Empire, rather than a string of earlier ethnically Turkish states, which is regarded as providing a legitimizing historical pedigree and cementing the fusion of Turkishness and Islam. Official Turkish historiography maintains that the Turkish-speaking nomads whose descendants later founded the Ottoman Empire voluntarily embraced Islam while still in Central Asia. History textbooks imply that the nomads converted virtually en masse and that, by the time they began to penetrate Anatolia in the eleventh century, the nomads were already deeply devout Muslims.9 The truth is more complex. Conversion appears to have been gradual and occasionally even forced.10 Most of the nomads seem to have converted individually or in relatively small groups. Perhaps more importantly, full Islamization occurred gradually, over generations if not centuries. This process has not only left its mark on the interpretation and practice of Sunni Islam in modern Turkey but is arguably still not complete. Even today, it is possible to see heterodox beliefs—most strikingly among the country’s substantial Alevi minority—whose origins can be clearly traced back to the modern population’s pre-Islamic past.

FROM SHAMANISM TO CALIPHATE

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Shamanism and Sufism Although it is possible that the Turkic languages developed within a discrete polity, no evidence of such an entity has survived. When Turkic-speakers first appear in history,11 they are already fragmented into a mosaic of mostly nomadic tribes, scattered across the vast grasslands of the Central Asian steppes and speaking different dialects. Sometimes a number of tribes would join together in loose confederations under the suzerainty of a powerful warlord. Yet, although these alliances were frequently underpinned by real or imagined ties of kinship, there is no indication either of a “national consciousness” or that language served as a unifying political force. Indeed, the nomads appear to have raided and fought against fellow Turkicspeakers as much as they formed alliances with them. Nomads have little use for writing. With the exception of a small number of inscriptions, such as those found in Orkhon, the Turkic-speaking tribes of Central Asia left no written records of their own; and their lifestyle has meant that archaeological evidence has been mostly restricted to burial mounds. The clearest indication of how they liked to see themselves, if not necessarily how they were, probably comes from the series of twelve stories known collectively in English as the Book of Dede Korkut. The stories are set in the heroic age of a confederation of Turkic-speaking nomadic tribes known as the Oghuz Turks. The Oghuz are believed to have been originally based in the steppes of Central Asia and Mongolia, from where they began migrating westwards in the late tenth century; at around the same time as they underwent at least a superficial conversion to Islam. The Oghuz moved first through Iran, where one group founded what was to become known as the Seljuk Empire, before beginning to raid into eastern Anatolia, which was then still part of the Byzantine Empire, in the early eleventh century. The modern text of the Book of Dede Korkut is based on two manuscripts12 and probably dates from the late fourteenth or early fifteenth century13—long after the descendants of the heroes of the tales had converted to Islam. It was compiled in a society which no longer saw itself as Oghuz,14 But the stories are undoubtedly taken from a much earlier, and almost certainly oral, tradition. Although most of the place names in the surviving manuscripts refer to locations in the Caucasus and eastern Anatolia—presumably in an attempt to make the narrative more vivid to a contemporary audience—the most likely background for the stories appears to be the eighth- to eleventh-century wars in Central Asia between the Oghuz and two other Turkic-speaking clans, the Pecheneks and Kipchaks. The stories in the Book of Dede Kokut are narrated in a vigorous, engaging style, spiced with a rough and sometimes ribald humor. Although it is likely that they were originally recited or sung to a musical accompaniment, unlike most epics, the surviving text is in prose rather than poetry. The tales have been given an Islamic veneer (for example, there are frequent references to God and the Prophet Muhammad, and the enemies of the Oghuz are described as “infidels”), but their substance and the society in which they are set are unequivocally pre-Islamic. Unlike the segregation of the sexes that became common in the Muslim world, the females in the stories mix freely in society, are often portrayed as excellent horsewomen, archers,

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and even wrestlers, and sometimes go into battle alongside the men. While the men are monogamous and consume wine, fermented mare’s milk, and horsemeat.15 Yet all direct references to the pre-Islamic religion of the Oghuz have been removed. It is unclear whether the character of Dede Korkut is based on a historical figure. What is unquestionable is that he represents a type of person familiar to, and highly respected in, Oghuz society,16 combining the roles of bard, wise man, and soothsayer with the religious responsibilities of a shaman. Like most of the people of Central Asia, the Oghuz originally appear to have been shamanists. Shamanism is more a form of belief than a religion in itself. It has no scripture and is based not on codes of practice and obedience to a divine being but on ecstatic communication with, and thus experience of, a transcendent spirit world. Although there are many localized differences in rites and practices—some of which include music and dancing—they all focus on the person of the shaman, who is able to communicate with the spirit world during an ecstatic trance.17 Not only is the shaman able to contact the spirits but, through the trance, makes their immanence temporarily visible to other participants in the ceremony. As the Turkic-speaking tribes began to move out of Central Asia and come into contact with the civilizations around their southern and western periphery, they began to convert to other religions, including Buddhism, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism, Nestorian Christianity, and even Judaism.18 From the ninth century onwards, they also began to convert in growing numbers to Islam. However, the first time that Turkic speakers played a significant role in Muslim history, it was not as marauding nomads but as slave soldiers in what is now Iraq. The Turkic speakers of Central Asia had acquired a reputation as ferocious warriors, particularly as horse-borne archers—a skill which the Arabs never mastered.19 During the early ninth century, the princes of the Abbasid dynasty20 began to establish special troops of Turkic soldiers, who had been bought as slaves in Central Asia, where the constant feuding between nomadic tribes provided a steady supply for the markets of cities such as Samarkand. These troops subsequently frequently played a key role in the dynastic struggles that eventually so weakened the Abbasid Caliphate that it split into a patchwork of rival emirates. Far greater numbers of Turkic-speaking nomads were converted to Islam while still in Central Asia, where one of the periodic massive movements of nomads westward21 had coincided with the eastward expansion of the suzerainty of the caliphate into Transoxania; the area east of the Oxus River which today forms Uzbekistan and parts of Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan. Many of these early contacts were hostile, with the still-shamanistic nomads raiding into Muslim territory and themselves being subject to military reprisals. Gradually, however, the nomads began to convert to Islam. Sometimes this was forcible. More often it was voluntary. Some conversions were the result of contacts with Muslim merchants trading along the old caravan routes linking the Islamic world with the Far East. But most appear to have been the product of missionary activity by Sufi mystics, who crossed the Oxus from what is now Iran and either traveled with the nomads or established small colonies nearby from which they disseminated their beliefs. The rapid expansion of Islam in the years after the Prophet Muhammad’s death had been mostly among people familiar with, though not necessarily members


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of, faiths based on holy scriptures, prophets, and divine revelations; such as Judaism, Christianity and Zoroastrianism. But for the shamanists of Central Asia, even the concepts of a holy book and divinely ordained codes of practice were alien. Sufism, with its emphasis on the experience and immediacy of the divine rather than a distant, judgmental God, was something to which they could relate. Perhaps equally importantly, provided that the new converts accepted the basic premises of Islam, the Sufi missionaries appear not to have insisted on complete or immediate compliance with all the restrictions and observances contained in the Qur’an; and were even prepared to tolerate the continuation of some shamanistic practices. As a result, the majority of the Turkic-speaking nomads effectively converted first to Sufism and then to Islam. Full Islamization was gradual and uneven, occurring more rapidly among those who abandoned the nomadic life and settled in cities and more slowly in the countryside. However, some shamanistic beliefs and practices, albeit now often cloaked in a claim to Islamic orthodoxy, can still be seen among some segments of the population of modern Turkey. When the Oghuz Turks began to migrate westward into what is now Iran during the late tenth and early eleventh centuries, initially as mercenary frontier guardsmen for local Muslim princes and then increasingly as a military power in their own right, it was as a loose confederation of tribes rather than as a single unit. The most powerful family among them, known as Seljuks after their chieftain Seljuk (died c. 1009), appear to have been converted to relatively orthodox Sunni Islam. But, although they acknowledged the Seljuks’ political leadership, the majority of the Oghuz seem to have been, at most, only superficially Islamicized. During the mid-eleventh century, the Seljuks steadily expanded the territory under their control until they had created a huge empire, stretching from Transoxiana to the Red Sea, with their capital in what is now Iran.22 As they grew in military might, the Seljuks adopted many of the trappings of the Muslim rulers whom they had displaced, including using Persian as the language of their court. After the capture in 1055 of Baghdad, which was still the seat of the Sunni caliph, the Seljuk leaders assumed the title of sultan23 and began describing themselves as guardians of the caliphate. Territorial expansion gave the Seljuks a border with the Byzantine Empire in eastern Anatolia. During the mid-eleventh century, bands of nomads under nominal Seljuk suzerainty began to raid into Byzantine territory. Although there is no conclusive contemporary evidence, it is possible that the Seljuk rulers, with their more highly developed sense of Islamic identity, saw the raids in religious terms; but there is nothing to suggest that the raiders themselves were motivated by anything more than the desire for plunder. Nevertheless, the raids were seen in the Byzantine capital Constantinople as being serious enough to merit the dispatch to eastern Anatolia of a sizeable army led by the Emperor Romanus IV Diogenes. In 1071, the Seljuks under the leadership of Sultan Alparslan crushed the Byzantine army at the battle of Manzikert, to the north of what is today known as Lake Van, and captured the Emperor Romanus. Manzikert is generally acknowledged to have been one of the great turning points in history. However, at the time, Alparslan appears to have been unaware of the momentousness of his victory. Nor is there any evidence that he had any plans

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to invade and occupy Anatolia as part of a strategy to expand the Dar al-Islam. In fact, he freed Romanus IV Diogenes in return for a sizeable ransom, the promise of an alliance, and a readjustment of the border. But the practical and psychological repercussions of Alparslan’s triumph were immense, particularly among the Byzantine subjects of eastern Anatolia. With no military force to oppose them, Turkic-speaking nomads—mostly, though not exclusively, Oghuz Turks—began to pour into Anatolia. Within 20 years, the Byzantine Empire had lost virtually all of its Asian provinces with the exception of a thin strip of land along the Bosphorus and the southern shore of the Sea of Marmara. Aided and abetted by the First Crusade, Byzantium later temporarily recaptured some of its provinces in the west, but those in central and eastern Anatolia have remained under Muslim control ever since. The Seljuk custom of dividing territory between a deceased leader’s sons meant that what had always been a loose confederation of tribes and local chieftains, rather than a tightly controlled homogenous state, soon fragmented into a mosaic of sultanates and emirates. Weakened and divided, by the end of the twelfth century, the Seljuks had lost power everywhere but in Anatolia, which was now dominated by what has come to be called the Sultanate of Rum.24 Although there is no doubt that some fighting took place, most of the Christian inhabitants of central and eastern Anatolia appear to have accepted Muslim rule with little resistance. This was probably partly because the Seljuk victory at Manzikert had demonstrated that the Byzantine Empire could no longer be relied upon to protect them, but mainly because the Byzantine emperors had long treated Anatolia as a resource to be exploited, imposing often cripplingly high taxes and providing nothing tangible in return. Popular alienation was frequently exacerbated by religious differences. A substantial proportion of the Christian population of central Anatolia, and the majority in the east, was Armenian, Georgian, or Monophysite,25 rather than Greek Orthodox. Writing in the late twelfth century, Michael the Syrian, the Syrian Orthodox patriarch of Antioch, made no secret of why his coreligionists preferred Turkish to Byzantine rule, commenting: “As the Turks have no idea of the sacred mysteries . . . they are not accustomed to make inquiry into professions of faith, nor to persecute anyone on these grounds, in contrast to what is done by the Greeks, a bad and heretical lot.”26 Yet even Greek Orthodox Christians seem to have accepted Turkish rule with relative equanimity. Although, as non-Muslims, they also had to pay the jizya levy, the overall tax burden does not appear to have been heavier than under the Byzantines. Nor is there any evidence either of state persecution of Christians by the Sultanate of Rum or of communal violence between Christians and Muslims in Seljuk territory. In fact, the main social tension, and one which continued deep into Ottoman times, appears to have been not between Christianity and Islam but between town and countryside. Most of the Turkic-speaking nomads—now usually described as “Turcomans” to distinguish them from the sedentary population—who spread throughout the Anatolian countryside in the wake of the Battle of Manzikert were, at most, heterodox or syncretic Muslims, and many were probably still not Muslim at all. However, the Muslims in the towns of the Sultanate of Rum, particularly in the capital


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of Konya, appear to have been more orthodox. Yet even here it was an ongoing process, with the towns merely becoming Islamicized at a quicker pace than the countryside. Particularly initially, the leaders of the Sultanate of Rum appear to have been little interested in the finer points of Islamic theology. Although they were officially Sunni, it seems that the early Seljuk rulers were at least extremely tolerant of, and even may have been sympathetic towards, Shia Islam. However, they gradually identified themselves increasingly strongly with Sunni Islam. Starting in the late twelfth century, they began to invite Hanafi Sunni scholars from Iran and Central Asia to settle in Anatolia. They also appointed Islamic judges, called qadis, to oversee the implementation of the Shari’a and endowed religious foundations known as waqfs. Yet Seljuk Anatolia did not become a great Islamic intellectual center. The Seljuks did not produce any great theologians, and most of the theological works which have survived from the period are copies from scholars who lived elsewhere. Similarly, in the thousands of biographies of religious figures from the period in Persian and Arabic literature, there are almost none from Anatolia; and there was still no real Turkish literature. Archaeological and documentary evidence suggests that, compared with Arab and Persian cities, there were very few religious schools or madrasas in Anatolia. Generally, Muslim life under the Seljuks appears still to have been dominated not by the class of Islamic theologians, lawyers, teachers, and judges known as the ulema but by the Sufis. In the early thirteenth century, the population of Anatolia was swelled by an influx of refugees fleeing the Mongol invasion of southwestern Asia. Most of the migrants were nomads, tradesmen, and artisans, but they also included intellectuals and mystics. One of these new arrivals was the man who was to become known as Mevlana Jalal al’Din Rumi (c. 1207–73).27 Born in Balkh in what is now Afghanistan, Rumi arrived in Konya in 1228. In around 1232, he became a disciple of the Sufi teacher Burhan al-Din Muhaqqiq. After Burhan al-Din left Konya in 1240, Rumi gradually began to build up a following of his own. The turning point in his life came in 1244, when he met a wandering dervish called Shams al-Din Tabrizi on the streets of Konya. Rumi saw Shams as a spiritual soul mate, the embodiment of the completion of his search for mystical union with what he described as the “Divine Beloved.” The two men became inseparable and Rumi began to neglect both his followers and his family. In 1246, Rumi’s followers forced Shams into exile in Syria. Although he was later allowed to return to Konya, the resentment remained unabated. In 1247 Shams was murdered and buried in a secret grave by Rumi’s family and followers. This experience of love, and the anguish of its loss, transformed Rumi into one of the world’s greatest mystical poets. His main work, which is usually known in English by the name Masnavi,28 consists of around 25,000 rhyming couplets, most of which were composed while Rumi was in a state of ecstasy induced by the music of the flute or the drum, the sounds of nature, or the whirling dance by which his followers are best known in the West today. The Masnavi was composed in Persian and is remarkable not just for its beauty but also for its philosophy of unquestioning love and infinite tolerance.

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Rumi made no attempt to create an institutionalized organization, famously inviting everyone, regardless of race or creed, to join together in ecstatic love of God. Contemporaries report that Rumi had Christians and Jews, as well as Muslims, amongst his disciples. However, after his death, his Muslim followers coalesced into a mystical order known in Turkish as the Mevlevi. The order was concentrated primarily in the towns. Its members participated fully in the community and were always careful to abide by the requirements of exoteric Islam, as detailed in the Qur’an and the Shari’a.29 In the countryside, Christians appear to have remained in the majority throughout the Seljuk period. In some areas, the Armenians predominated; in others, it was the Greek Orthodox. But, even though they were a numerical minority, Turcoman nomads were diffused throughout nearly all of Anatolia. From the late twelfth century onwards, Western chroniclers consistently refer to Anatolia as Turchia or “the land of the Turks.” Although they provided most of the soldiers for the Seljuk armies, very few of the Turcomans appear to have been orthodox Sunni Muslims. In the late thirteenth century, the anonymous inhabitant of Konya who wrote a history in Persian of the Seljuks, known as the Tarikh-i al-i Saljuk, disparagingly referred to the Turkic-speaking rural population as “Turks” while describing the urban population as “Muslims.” Most Turcoman tribes traveled with a religious leader known as a baba,30 who, though often ostensibly a Sufi mystic, was usually closer to a shaman. To the consternation of the orthodox Sufis of the towns, many baba who claimed to be Muslim were not only very lax in terms of religious observances but also preserved many shamanistic beliefs and practices under an Islamic veneer. This syncretism sometimes extended to incorporate local traditions, including both elements of Christianity and older Anatolian beliefs which had survived in some rural areas long after the population had been nominally converted to Christianity. Pure nomadism appears to have been relatively rare. Most of the Turcomans were sedentary for at least part of the year. Similarities in lifestyle and a tendency towards syncretism meant that Turcomans and rural Christians often felt a greater affinity with each other than with their coreligionists in the towns. Such rural solidarity was regarded as a potential security threat by the urban Muslim ruling class. The result was one of the first attempts in Anatolia to instrumentalize Islam for political purposes, as orthodox Sufi mystics traveled extensively among the Turcomans in an attempt to convert them to a more orthodox interpretation of Islam. In the mid-thirteenth century, these tensions fuelled an uprising in the countryside led by a Messianic figure called Baba Ishaq and known as the Babai Revolt. Nothing has survived to indicate what Baba Ishaq believed or preached, except that he claimed to be an apostle of God. By 1240 he had gathered enough supporters among the Turcomans of central and southeastern Anatolia to launch an armed rebellion. After initial successes, the rebel leaders, including Baba Ishaq, were cornered, captured, and hanged. However, many of Baba Ishaq’s followers escaped and it took another two years before the rebellion could finally be suppressed. No sooner had it crushed the Baba Ishaq revolt than the Seljuk regime found itself faced with a much more serious threat. In the winter of 1242–43, the Mongol army began to move into Anatolia. In June 1243, at a mountain pass called


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Köşedağ, close to the modern Turkish city of Erzincan, the Seljuk army was completely destroyed by the Mongols. Although the Sultan Kay Khrusraw II managed to escape, the Battle of Köşedağ effectively marked the end of Seljuk power in Anatolia and the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum became a Mongol dependency. The Mongols devastated large swathes of eastern Anatolia. But, in addition to those who had previously fled their invasion of southwestern Asia, they also brought with them a fresh influx of Turkic-speaking nomads. In fact, although the leadership was mainly composed of Mongols, most of the soldiers in the Mongol army appear to have been non-Muslim Turkic-speakers,31 who, after settling in Anatolia, eventually converted to Islam and were absorbed into the local population. During the fourteenth century, as the Mongol Empire began to disintegrate, Anatolia became divided into a mosaic of fractious emirates and autonomous principalities known as beyliks. It was only in the late fourteenth century that the descendants of Osman (c. 1258–1324), the eponymous founder of one of these principalities,32 brought under their control both the Muslim petty states of Anatolia and the European provinces of the Byzantium Empire, thus laying the foundations for what was to become the Ottoman Empire.

The Ghazi Thesis Modern Muslim Turks33 and Western romantics have frequently regarded the Seljuks and their successor Anatolian petty states and beyliks as ghazis,34 warriors for the faith who raided into non-Muslim territory in order to protect and expand the Dar al-Islam. Nor are they alone. As early the eleventh century, foreign Muslim authors refer to the Seljuks of Anatolia as ghazis. While several centuries later it became commonplace for Ottoman sources to add the term to earlier Anatolian Muslims as an almost automatic honorific. But this does not appear to have been how the vast majority of the Muslims of Anatolia saw themselves at the time. On the few occasions when the term was used, it seems to have been more for selfaggrandizement or an attempt at post factum legitimization, rather than a motivating force.35 Indeed, for regimes such as the Seljuks, concepts such as holy war and the ghazi appear to have been completely alien. There is no evidence that they inspired military action or conquest. The bulk of the Seljuk army was composed of Turcomans, who were, at best, still only superficially Islamicized. It was also Turcomans who were stationed in the border marches to guard the frontiers of the Seljuk state. But there is no evidence of any conflict for religious reasons in the marches. Apart from loyalty to their ruler, the main motivation of the Seljuk armies appears to have been loot, plunder, and glory in this world rather than reward in the next. Far from being instinctively antagonistic to non-Muslims, both the Seljuks and the Turkic states and principalities of Anatolia appear to have identified more closely with the non-Muslim population than with their fellow Muslims elsewhere.36 They married and formed alliances with Christians and even fought alongside them against other Muslims; just as Christian princes engaged the assistance of Muslims in pursuit of rivalries with their own coreligionists.37 Perhaps most tellingly, when

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they suffered reverses in conflicts with their Muslim neighbors or with domestic rivals, both the Seljuks and the members of the Turkic-speaking dynasties of Anatolia fled not to the Muslim lands to the south or east—even when the rulers there were Turkic speakers—but to the Byzantines or, less frequently, the Armenians of Cilicia. While Byzantine rebels tended to turn for assistance not to the neighboring Christian Slavs but to the Muslims of Anatolia. This sense of Anatolia of being distinct from the rest of the Muslim world can also been in the travelogues of foreign visitors. Muslims in particular wrote about Anatolia as an alien country, expressing horror at the number of women, even in the towns, who went about uncovered. They were also often outraged by the ease with which Christians in towns with minority Muslim populations were able to eat pork, drink wine, and hold religious processions. It was only much later, when the Ottomans became the dominant regional power, that the Muslims of Anatolia began to see themselves, and be seen by their coreligionists, as being at the center of the Islamic world, with a divine mandate to preserve and protect their faith. The Ottoman Empire lasted for over six centuries from the late thirteenth century38 to 1922. Perhaps inevitably, the temptation has been to see the history of the empire as an organic whole, a single continuum which underwent a process of expansion, stagnation, and wasting decline. This tendency has been exacerbated by the stubborn conservatism of the empire’s final centuries, which are also the years richest in historical sources, and the almost total absence of any documentary records and very limited archaeological evidence for the first 150 years of the Ottoman state’s existence. As a result, even during Ottoman times, accounts of the state’s early years tended to be refracted through the prism of the concepts, prejudices, and concerns of the writer’s own day. A similar propensity also permeates many recent accounts, particularly with regard to the role of Islam. Modern scholars have tended to project either their own prejudices or the template of later, better-documented periods back onto the more distant past; with the result that their histories often reveal more about the writers themselves than the early Ottomans. The first Western author to attempt to write a comprehensive account of the early years of the Ottoman state was the American Herbert A. Gibbons (1880– 1934), whose The Foundation of the Ottoman Empire was published in 1916. Gibbons had taught in Istanbul in the 1910s. In keeping with the casual racism of the time, Gibbons argued that, as what he termed “Asiatics” were on their own incapable of establishing an empire as powerful and long-lived as that of the Ottomans, it must have been effectively founded by Byzantine converts to Islam and largely based on Byzantine models of government and administration.39 In 1934, in a series of lectures at the Sorbonne in Paris, the Turkish historian Mehmet Fuad Köprülü (1890–1966) responded by arguing that, in keeping with the self-aggrandizing racism of the early Kemalist republic, the Ottomans were ethnic Turks, the descendants of migrants from Central Asia. He claimed that the reason for the phenomenal growth in the political power of what had once been a minor Anatolian principality was that the Ottoman ranks were swelled by large numbers of other ethnic Turkish nomads. He maintained that the nascent empire was shaped by ethnic Turkish traditions and institutional models, such as those inherited from the Seljuks.40


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In 1938, in The Rise of the Ottoman Empire, the Austrian scholar Paul Wittek (1894–1978) advanced what has become known as the “ghazi thesis”: namely, that a religious thirst to plunder non-Muslim territory was not only the primary force driving the early Ottomans but also provided them with the manpower to extend and consolidate their conquests by attracting other Muslim warriors to their ranks. In Wittek’s words, they were: “a community of Ghazis, of champions of the Mohammedan religion, a community of Moslem march-warriors, devoted to the struggle with the infidels in their neighborhood.”41 Until relatively recently, most Western scholars accepted Wittek’s ghazi thesis, while Turkish official historiography tended to follow Köprülü; presumably not least because the secular republic has traditionally been reluctant to subordinate ethnicity to religion. Turkish history textbooks claim that the “Turks of Anatolia” flocked to support the Ottomans because they understood that “only they could establish the national unity of which they had been so long deprived.”42 The fact such “national unity” had never existed is not mentioned.43 Each thesis caters to a scholarly weakness for intellectually neat, all-encompassing explanations for the often paradoxical complexities of human behavior. Each also offers a degree of psychological reassurance by attributing an element of “purity” to the motives of the early Ottomans: ideological in the case of Wittek’s romanticized, Orientalist ideal of the ghazi fired by religious zeal; racial in the case of official Turkish historiography. But both are, at best, misleading oversimplifications; and probably simply wrong. The Ottoman state was not only one of the longest-lived empires in history, but, in terms of territorial growth, contraction, and collapse, also one of the slowest moving. It took nearly four hundred years to expand from an insignificant Muslim Anatolian beylik to its greatest extent in the late seventeenth century, when it ruled an area stretching from modern Algeria to the Persian Gulf and from what is now Yemen to parts of modern Hungary; and another 250 years for its territory to be whittled down to its rump in Anatolia, which then became the Turkish republic. During the first—and arguably most critical—period of growth in 1300–1450, the Ottomans expanded initially in northwestern Anatolia in the region known in antiquity as Bithynia before conquering first the Byzantine provinces in Thrace and the Balkans and then some of the Muslim principalities in southwestern and northeastern Anatolia. Wittek’s claim that these conquests were driven by the spirit of ghaza is based on just two pieces of evidence: an Arabic stone inscription in Bursa, which is dated to 1337 and refers to the second Ottoman ruler, Orhan (1288–1360), as Sultān al-ghuzāt, ghāzī ibn al-ghāzī or “Sultan of the ghazis, Ghazi son of a ghazi”44; and the Turkish language Tevarih-i Müluk-i Al’i ‘Osman or “History of the Ottomans and their Campaigns against the Infidel,” which was written by the poet Tacüddin İbrahim bin Hıdr (c. 1334–1412), who is better known by his penname of Ahmedi.45 However, it is now generally acknowledged that Wittek misunderstood the text of the inscription in Bursa and that the Arabic ghazi was probably a translation of the Turkish word akıncı, meaning simply “raider.” Similarly, although Ahmedi did use the word ghazi in Turkish, it probably says more about him than it does about the motives of the first Ottomans. Ahmedi received an Islamic education.

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His “history” was intended as a moral guide for Ottoman rulers, initially for Beyazit I (reigned 1389–1402) and then for his son Prince Süleyman, rather than as an objective record of their ancestors’ past. In fact, there is no convincing evidence that the concept of the ghazi played an important role in the expansion of the early Ottoman state. If anything, the known facts appear to suggest exactly the opposite. None of the contemporary Byzantine sources mention the concept of ghazi in reference to the Ottomans. While the terms appear as almost perfunctory honorifics in descriptions by non-Ottoman Muslims of other fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Anatolian beyliks; effectively demolishing Wittek’s claim that they were particularly associated with the Ottomans.46 There is no reason to suppose that Muslims who joined forces with the Ottomans were motivated by anything more lofty than a desire for plunder. Nor is there any evidence to support Köprülü’s claim that the Ottomans’ swelling ranks were kept ethnically pure by an influx of recruits from the Turkish nomads who were pouring into Anatolia. On the contrary, there is considerable evidence that in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the Ottoman ranks contained a substantial number of Christians, including some high-ranking commanders, who fought against the Ottomans’ Muslim and non-Muslim foes alike. Some of the Christians appear to have been adventurers or renegade former Byzantine subjects who had allied themselves with a rising local power. Others were levied from the Christian populations of the expanding territory ruled by the Ottomans. Indeed, an Ottoman imperial order from as late as 1472 instructing local officials to raise an army for a forthcoming Ottoman campaign against fellow Muslims in eastern Anatolia requires them to levy troops from both the Muslim and non-Muslim populations and describes both as akıncı.47 Christians also appear to have played an important role in the peacetime administration of the nascent Ottoman state; thus contradicting both the dichotomy implicit in the concept of the ghazi and the traditional Islamic model of government, in which “the Peoples of the Book” are protected but subordinate, the ruled rather than the rulers. Christian peasants appear to have accepted Ottoman rule with equanimity. Even though as non-Muslims they were subject to the jizya, the overall tax burden does not appear to have been more onerous than under the Byzantines. Moreover, unlike the crumbling Byzantine Empire, the Ottomans were strong enough militarily to provide security. Until the late fifteenth century, there appears to have been no pressure and little incentive to convert to Islam. During the later periods of the Ottoman Empire, the population was roughly divided into an exclusively Muslim ruling caste of soldiers/administrators known as the askeri and a subordinate, largely non-Muslim, taxpaying class known as the reaya.48 However, in its early years, non-Muslims appear to have been able to participate in, and rise through the ranks of, the ruling class. Early fifteenth-century tax registers from the Ottoman territories in the Balkans indicate that a significant proportion of the fiefs known as timars were held by non-Muslims. Even in the late fifteenth century, in some areas entire non-Muslim communities were performing military duties for the state in return for tax exemptions; both of which would have been unthinkable a couple of centuries later.49 While former members of the


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Byzantine aristocracy—some now converted to Islam, others still Christian—even held prominent positions in the civilian administration. It is likely that this policy of inclusiveness towards non-Muslims was based on practical considerations, not least because continuing expansion required manpower for both conquest and administration. Advocates of both the ghazi and the Turkish nationalist theses maintain that this need for manpower was met by recruits from the Muslims of Anatolia.50 However, contemporary tax registers clearly show that a large proportion—a majority in many places—of the timar holders in this period were either Christians or first-generation converts to Islam. The large number of converts and Christians amongst the ranks of the early Ottomans has inevitably raised questions about the origins of Osman himself. In the late fifteenth century, when the Ottoman beylik had developed into a major power, Ottoman writers attempted to create an illustrious pedigree for their rulers by tracing their origins back to the Kayı branch of the Oghuz Turks, who were said to have migrated into Anatolia at some time after the Battle of Manzikert. However, there is no evidence to support or refute the claim; and the genealogies that were produced simply contradict each other. Even if true, there is no doubt that, given the later Ottoman sultans’ well-documented propensity for marrying converts or non-Muslims, within a few generations any “Central Asian blood” that once flowed in their veins had been diluted to a negligible level. It is quite possible that the early Ottoman Sultans regarded themselves as orthodox Sunni Muslims. Contemporary sources certainly suggest that by the time of Orhan (reigned c. 1324–60) the Ottoman state had assumed many of the trappings of a formal Islamic administration, endowing Islamic foundations and even establishing a religious school or madrasa to train scholar-scribes and judges. However, there is no evidence to suggest that the sultans themselves had any interest in the finer points of Islamic theology. As demonstrated by their attitudes towards nonMuslims, pragmatism appears to have taken precedence over orthodoxy; at least until orthodoxy itself became a force for political control and cohesion.

Heterodoxy and the Securitization of Belief The sultans’ subjects undoubtedly included Christians and Muslims who were fully committed to what would today be regarded as orthodox interpretations of their faiths. But for many, the dividing line between the two religions was often blurred— not just in terms of participation in the military or civilian administration but also socially and even theologically. The Bavarian soldier Johann Schiltberger, who was captured by and subsequently served with the Ottomans, describes how at the end of the fourteenth century pious foundations in Bursa, the first Ottoman capital, catered to Christians, Muslims, and Jews without any discrimination; in marked contrast to the situation from the sixteenth century onwards, when foundations served only their own communities.51 Sometimes even the theological line between Islam and Christianity appears to have vanished altogether. During the reign of Beyazit I, in a sermon delivered in a mosque in Bursa, the preacher declared that Jesus was as great a prophet as Muhammad. When an Arab member of the ulema

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attempted to correct him, his explanation was rejected by the congregation, who supported the preacher.52 Although there is no way of measuring the extent of this syncretism, there can be little doubt that it was even more widespread in the countryside, where the convictions of the predominantly illiterate population were shaped more by folk beliefs and oral traditions than by sacred texts. In 1416, a rebellion known as the Sheikh Bedreddin Revolt broke out in Ottoman territories in Europe and western Anatolia. It was led by Borkluce Mustafa, a follower of a mystic known as Sheikh Bedreddin (c. 1358–1416). Little is known of Bedreddin’s teachings or of the revolt except that he preached a form of communism, in which material goods were shared, and a mystical love of God which took precedence over allegiance to any established religion. As a result, the main source for the revolt, the Byzantine chronicler Doukas, was as hostile to him as were the Ottomans. Nevertheless, Bedreddin appears to have attracted a huge following and the revolt was only crushed with great difficulty and considerable brutality. The Sheikh Bedreddin Revolt instilled a suspicion of religious heterodoxy in the Ottoman ruling elite that was to last for centuries. The result was the increasing securitization of belief, in which adherence to the tenets of orthodox Sunni Islam became regarded as an indication of loyalty to the political authority of the central government.

The Conquest of Constantinople Even though the Byzantine Empire enjoyed an artistic revival in the fourteenth century, militarily and politically it never recovered from the defeat at Manzikert in 1071. By the mid-fifteenth century, the once vast empire had been reduced to a rump of territory around its capital of Constantinople; a tiny island in an increasingly Muslim, and predominantly Ottoman, sea. Behind its still magnificent walls, Constantinople was largely deserted; with gardens, orchards, and patches of wasteland separating what was now almost a collection of a villages, some of which even had their own secondary defenses. But when the Ottomans, under the twenty-one-year-old Sultan Mehmet II (reigned 1451–81), began to blockade the city in April 1453, they were laying siege as much to the past as to the present. When Constantinople finally fell on 29 May 1453, the Ottomans conquered not only a decaying, semi-derelict city but the semi-legendary metropolis of their imagination in all its glamour and grandeur. Later, once the city had been rebuilt and repopulated, the Ottomans undoubtedly benefited from its superb strategic location; from which they built an empire that, in size and power if not in longevity, eclipsed even that of the Byzantines. Yet initially, the greatest impact of the capture of Constantinople was psychological rather than political; both in Europe, where the city retained a mystical resonance through its close association with the early Church, and amongst the Ottomans, for whom the capture of what they regarded as the greatest city in their world sealed a growing perception of their own preeminence, setting them in the center not just of the political but of the historical stage.


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During the second half of the fifteenth century, the Ottomans began to see themselves in increasingly grandiose terms as agents of a predestined historical process, in which their growing political power and the conquest of Constantinople were divinely ordained; a belief which, even if the sultans remained unaware of the finer points of Islamic law, nevertheless strengthened their identification with Islam. Ottoman chroniclers invented a legend that Osman had once had a dream in which he was told that his descendants would rule a vast empire53 and cited hadith traditions in which the Muhammad reportedly predicted the capture of Constantinople. However, the legend of Osman’s dream does not appear until 150 years after his death. Moreover, not only is there is no reliable evidence to suggest that the hadiths were a major factor in the decision to lay siege to the city in 1453, but the details of the prophecies in the hadiths—several of which are apocalyptic in tone—are inconsistent with both conquest itself and its aftermath.54 Almost as soon as he entered the city, Mehmet II set about repopulating and reinventing Constantinople as an imperial Ottoman capital. He constructed a grand palace, known today as Topkapı, on the old Byzantine acropolis overlooking the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn, and converted the great Orthodox church of Saint Sophia into a mosque. He also built numerous mosque complexes to form the heart of new Muslim neighborhoods,55 which he then populated with Muslims relocated from elsewhere in Ottoman territories. Sometimes the migrations were voluntary, more often they were the result of sürgün, or “forced resettlement,” in which whole communities were transferred from Anatolia and the Balkans to meet the new capital’s need for manpower. In the spirit of the ruthless practicality that characterized the early Ottomans, they included communities of Christians and Jews, who joined the non-Muslims already in Constantinople. It is unclear how many of the pre-conquest Byzantine population of the city survived its capture by the Ottomans. Not surprisingly, official Turkish historiography has tended to minimize or deny the massacre or enslavement of noncombatants. While Western, particularly Greek, sources have often portrayed the capture of the city as a bloodbath. Unlike non-Muslim armies—for whom the fate of civilian populations was usually left to the whim of the victorious commander—since the early seventh century, Muslim armies had, in theory at least, followed strict rules when dealing with a captured city. If the city was taken by storm, the conquering soldiers were allowed three days of unrestricted looting, including the right to enslave the civilian population. If the city surrendered, then the lives and liberty of its inhabitants were sacrosanct, although they could be forced to pay an indemnity. There is no question that the last Byzantine Emperor, Constantine XI (1404– 53), refused to surrender and died in the final Ottoman assault. Similarly, parts of Constantinople were undoubtedly pillaged and their civilian populations either slain or enslaved. Yet some areas of the city—such as the neighborhood of Phanar, which is today the seat of the Greek Orthodox Ecumenical Patriarchate—appear to have escaped the destruction. Their richly adorned churches were not only left unplundered but continued to hold Orthodox services. The only explanation for this anomaly, which also puzzled later Ottoman writers, is that once the Ottomans breached the city’s outer walls, some of the virtually self-contained communities within the defensive perimeter immediately surrendered to Mehmet II’s forces and

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were spared their lives, freedom, and property.56 There are also numerous contemporary accounts of Byzantine civilians captured by the Ottomans being subsequently ransomed by other non-Muslim inhabitants of the city; who would have had neither the liberty nor the money to pay the ransoms if the entire city had been sacked.

The Millet System The beginning of what has become known as the millet system has traditionally been dated to soon after the conquest of Constantinople. Under this system, the subjects of the Ottoman sultan were identified through membership of their religious community, known as a millet.57 In the early nineteenth century, the Ottoman state recognized four such communities: the ruling Muslim millet and three subordinate non-Muslim millets—Orthodox Christians (mostly Greeks but also including Romanian, Bulgarian, Serbian, Albanian, Vlach, and Arab Christians), Armenians (including other Monophysite Christians) and Jews.58 Each millet enjoyed a measure of fiscal and juridical autonomy and was headed by its most prominent religious leader based in Constantinople, who was responsible to the central government for the fulfillment of the community’s responsibilities and duties throughout the Ottoman Empire. However, until the nineteenth century, the word normally used to describe the non-Muslim communities of the Ottoman Empire was not millet, which was usually reserved for Muslims, but cemaat, the Turkish word for “community” or “congregation.” Nor is there any evidence that Mehmet II endowed non-Muslim religious leaders in Constantinople with empire-wide secular powers and responsibilities. No official documents to this effect have survived and the story is probably a much later invention by the non-Muslim religious leaders in Constantinople in an attempt to provide historical legitimacy for what was by then the de facto situation. What evidence there is, suggests not only that the millet system evolved gradually over many years but that it developed differently, and at a different pace, in each community. Contemporary sources are agreed that Mehmet II initially appointed Lucas Notaras, the leading Byzantine civilian figure in the city, as governor of Constantinople; only to have him executed a few days later for reasons that remain unclear. In January 1454, Mehmet II appointed Georgios Scholarios (c.1405–73) as patriarch to head the Greek Orthodox Church in Constantinople. Scholarios, who has become better known as Patriarch Gennadios II, remained in his post for ten years. In 1464, he abdicated and retired to a monastery to write learned works on philosophical and theological issues. There is no suggestion in any of Scholarios’s writings, that, when he was appointed, Mehmet II endowed either him or the Greek Patriarchate with secular authority over the Orthodox Christians throughout the Ottoman domains.59 Unlike the Greek Orthodox Church, there was no Armenian Patriarchate in Constantinople before 1453. The two main Armenian ecclesiastical centers of the time were beyond the Ottoman borders in Ejmiadzin and Cilicia. Today, the Armenian Church maintains that its patriarchate in Constantinople was established by


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Mehmet II in 1461. Yet not only is there no evidence to support the claim but surviving Armenian ecclesiastical documents from the late fifteenth century make no reference to a patriarchate in Constantinople. Armenian religious leaders in Constantinople do appear to have been granted some rights in the first half of the sixteenth century, although the emergence of an institutionalized Armenian patriarchate in the city probably dates from the early seventeenth century. It was not until the eighteenth century, when the patriarchate in Constantinople was wellestablished, that the claim that Mehmet II granted it universal authority over all Armenians first began to appear in contemporary documents. The origins of the Jewish millet are even more complex. By the fifteenth century, Jews living under both Christian and Muslim rulers had already developed a tradition of forming tightly knit, partly self-regulating communities. Yet, unlike the clerical hierarchy in the Greek Orthodox and Armenian Churches, there was no precedent for the leading rabbi of one community exercising authority over all the other Jews in a state. There are no reliable figures for the number of Jews in Ottoman territory prior to the conquest of Constantinople. However, Ottoman tax registers clearly show that, within a few years of the capture of the city, almost all of the Jews under Ottoman rule in the Balkans and many of those in Anatolia had been relocated to the new capital. Jewish documents from the late fifteenth century make it clear that this resettlement was both forced and bitterly resented. However, the situation changed following the influx of a large number of Jews into the Ottoman Empire following their expulsion from Spain in 1492 and Portugal in 1497. Known as Sephardim, from the Hebrew Sefarad meaning “Spain,” they greatly outnumbered and rapidly absorbed the Jewish community in Constantinople; to the extent that their language, the Judaeo-Spanish Ladino, became the lingua franca of all the Jews in the city. Official Turkish historiography has tended to portray the Ottomans’ acceptance of the Sephardim as a humanitarian gesture. In reality, it appears to have been more of a utilitarian one. The Iberian Jews brought with them a range of skills and crafts that were in short supply in the Ottoman Empire at the time. Instead of concentrating all of the new arrivals in the capital, Mehmet II’s successor, Sultan Beyazit II (reigned 1481–1512), also settled them in the Ottoman provinces, particularly in cities such as what is now Salonica in modern Greece, where they soon accounted for a significant proportion of the population. The conquest of the Arab lands of Egypt and Syria in 1516–17 added new Jewish communities to the Ottoman Empire, many of which not only spoke a different language—mostly Arabic—but had already lived under Muslim rule for nearly nine hundred years. Not surprisingly, Jewish documentary resources from the sixteenth century adopt a warmer attitude towards the Ottoman authorities than those from the previous century. The absorption of the pre-Conquest Jewish population by the Sephardim had erased the bitter communal memories of the resettlement to Constantinople. While the reception given to the Sephardim by the Ottomans was in marked contrast both to their treatment in the Iberian Peninsula and to the experiences of their coreligionists in contemporary Christian Europe. But there is no indication that the affairs of the different Jewish communities now scattered throughout the

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Ottoman Empire were regulated by the leading rabbi in Constantinople. On the contrary, any self-regulation of the Jewish communities appears to have highly localized rather than overseen by a centralized system based in the capital. Similarly, through the sixteenth and into the nineteenth centuries, relations between the state and Jews living outside Constantinople were almost exclusively conducted between the leaders of individual communities and the local representatives of the Ottoman state. There are records of smaller Jewish communities seeking guidance from larger ones on issues of which they had limited experience. But the criteria for whom to consult appear to have been based on practical considerations, such as geographical proximity. There is nothing to suggest that the Jewish communities in the provinces regarded themselves as part of a centralized system in which their local leaders were subordinated to the chief rabbi in Constantinople. It appears that, initially at least, the interaction between the Ottoman state and Orthodox and Armenian Christians also mostly took place at a local level; although it was usually the clergy who served as representatives of the local community in exchanges with the central government. What was to become the millet system seems to have evolved over several centuries as a product of the concentration of first ecclesiastical and then communal power in the patriarchates in Constantinople. Much of the momentum for this process seems to have come not from the Ottoman state but from the Constantinople patriarchates themselves; which exploited their proximity to the central government to increase their power and prestige relative to the local communities and then used the ecclesiastical hierarchy to consolidate their preeminence.60 By the eighteenth century, first the Orthodox and then the Armenian patriarchate had succeeded in establishing themselves both as the leaders of their respective communities and as those communities’ representatives to the central government; and appear to have attempted to legitimize their de facto ascendancy by claiming that it had been formally granted by Mehmet II. The situation also suited the Ottoman state, as its initial pragmatism gradually gave way to a system of government more closely attuned to traditional Sunni teachings on the regulation of non-Muslim communities. The process of the consolidation of the authority of the chief rabbi in Constantinople, known in Turkish as hahambaşı, appears to have considerably slower. In fact, the long tradition of communal self-regulation and the absence of a centralized, clerical hierarchy meant that Jewish millet never became as administratively cohesive as the Orthodox or Armenian millets. Nevertheless, by the eighteenth century, the Ottoman sultans do appear to have regarded the hahambaşı as the titular head of the Jews under their rule and held him responsible, in theory if not in practice, for the actions of the Jewish communities scattered throughout the empire. However, even if there is no evidence for the introduction of the millet system in the immediate aftermath of the conquest of Constantinople, there is little doubt that during the late fifteenth century the line between Muslim rulers and non-Muslim ruled became firmer. The number of non-Muslims in administrative positions steadily decreased and Islam moved from being an advantage for social advancement to being a prerequisite. This shift was probably partly the result of practical considerations, particularly the increased availability of Muslim manpower. But the process was given added impetus by two separate developments in the early years


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of the sixteenth century: the Ottoman annexation in 1516–17 of the Muslim holy lands or Hijaz, which included the cities of Mecca and Medina; and what have become known as the kızılbaşı revolts.

Muslim Manpower: Conquest, Compulsion, and Conversion Although no reliable figures are available, it is likely that the addition of the predominantly Muslim Arabs of the Hijaz meant that, for the first time, Muslims accounted for a majority of the Ottoman sultan’s subjects. Contemporary chroniclers report that the conquests of 1516–17 were followed by a rapid increase in the number of Arab bureaucrats and religious scholars throughout the Ottoman Empire. It is unlikely to be a coincidence that, within a generation of the capture of Mecca and Medina, Ottoman documentary references to Christians in administrative positions decline dramatically. Perhaps more significantly, the vocabulary used in official documents such as tax registers also changes, becoming more standardized and Islamicized. Even in the Balkans, Arabic terms for taxes, weights, measures, and animals replace the previous hybrid terminology of words of Greek, Slavic, and Persian origin. While differential rates and concessions for the jizya tax by non-Muslims now virtually all give way to a standard fixed rate; and anomalies in Islamic practice, such as some Christian communities being entrusted with their own defense, disappear.61 In addition to territorial expansion, through the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the pool of Muslim manpower was also swelled by the conversion to Islam of a substantial proportion of the non-Muslim population. However, the Ottoman tax registers, which often use different terms to describe first-generation converts, make it clear that conversion was mostly on an individual, rather than a communal, basis. Nor, with the notable exception of the system known as the devşirme, is there any evidence of forced conversion. Indeed, given the higher tax burden on non-Muslims, it would have been fiscally counterproductive to encourage mass conversions. It appears reasonable to assume that almost all of the non-Muslims who converted to Islam did so either out of conviction or self-interest (for example, to reduce their individual tax burden and secure social advancement). In most cases, conversion preceded linguistic and cultural assimilation. Converts appear to have continued to speak their native languages. It was often only after one or two generations that, through marriage (for interfaith unions remained very rare), their descendants became indistinguishable from the Turkish-speaking Muslim population.62 The devşirme is an indication that, even relatively early in their history, the Ottomans saw religion as having a security dimension; while simultaneously demonstrating the first sultans’ somewhat tenuous grasp of Islamic law. Under the devşirme, non-Muslims in the Ottoman provinces were subject to a tax in the form of unmarried male children, who were taken to Constantinople, converted to Islam, and trained to serve in the imperial bureaucracy and the elite military corps known in English as the Janissaries, from the Turkish Yeniçeri meaning “new force.” There is no clear evidence as to when the system was initiated. It is generally

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believed to have started in the late fourteenth century and continued through the sixteenth century, although limited levies were occasionally applied into the late seventeenth century. The devşirme undoubtedly caused considerable hardship and emotional distress, but care was taken to reduce the economic impact on both local communities and the youths’ own families. There were also variations in the geographical scope and the periodicity of the levy. Although Greeks and Armenians from Anatolia were sometimes recruited, the devşirme appears to have been most frequently levied on Christian peasants in the Balkans, with its periodicity varying according to need. Despite the trauma of separation from their families (although the age varied, boys were usually taken before or soon after puberty), the devşirme did provide an opportunity for considerable social advancement, not only in the Janissaries but also in other parts of the Ottoman bureaucracy. Sinan (c. 1489–1588), the greatest Ottoman architect, was a product of the devşirme, as were several of the sultan’s chief ministers, known as viziers, and many regional governors. In theory, once taken by the devşirme, the boys lost all contact with their families. However, this was clearly not always the case, as Ottoman documents include petitions written by Janissaries to the central government on behalf of their families. There is also evidence to suggest that, once they had risen to a position of influence, some government officials recruited through the devşirme favored their home regions. This opportunity to distribute patronage has been adduced as the reason for one of the curiosities of the devşirme system; namely, the inclusion of the Muslims of Bosnia, who were the only Muslim community subject to the levy. However, whether the Bosnian Muslims acquiesced or, as some Ottoman chroniclers claimed, volunteered to be included in the devşirme remains unclear. The devşirme appears to have grown out of the practice, which was permitted by Islamic Shari’a law, of enslaving a non-Muslim population captured in war. In theory at least, those recruited through the devşirme, including the Janissaries, remained slaves of the sultan. However, the communities subjected to the devşirme by the Ottomans were not the spoils of war but Peoples of the Book who had already submitted to Muslim rule and paid the jizya tax. Under Islamic law, this meant that they were entitled to—and, through the jizya, had effectively bought—protection and could not be enslaved. The devşirme had no parallel in any other Muslim state and its legality was the subject of considerable debate by Ottoman Islamic scholars during the sixteenth century. But it was simply too useful to be abolished. It was only much later, when alternative sources of recruitment had been found, such as opening the Janissary corps to freeborn Muslims, that the practice was finally abandoned.

The Kızılbaşı Revolts Although they are often portrayed in purely religious terms as a clash between the orthodox Sunni Ottoman center and the heterodox proto-Shia periphery, the kızılbaşı revolts were probably at least as much a product of internal political consolidation and regional rivalry with the emergent Safavid dynasty in what is now Iran.


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The Safavids took their name from a religious order established by a Sufi sheikh called Safi od-Din (c. 1253–1334) from Ardabil, in what is now northwestern Iran. The order was originally Sunni, although Safi od-Din appears to have been very tolerant of Shiites.63 After his death, this tolerance grew into sympathy until, in around 1400, the Safavids began to refer to themselves as Shia. Prominent among the Safavid supporters were tribes of nomads who wore tall red bonnets with 12 folds to indicate their devotion to the 12 imams of Shia Islam, hence their Turkish name—kızılbaşı, or “redhead.” During the fifteenth century, the influence of the Safavid order spread not only through what is now Iran but also the Caucasus, Syria, Transoxania, and eastern Anatolia. In 1501, led by the teenage Shah Ismail (ruled 1501–24),64 the Safavids overthrew the rulers of northern Iran, known as the Akkoyunlu, and established the first explicitly Shia state, which eventually evolved into the modern Islamic Republic of Iran. The creation of the Safavid state coincided with Ottoman attempts to translate what was often little more than a nominal suzerainty over the nomads of eastern Anatolia into centralized political control. The resultant confrontation between an increasingly Sunni Ottoman state trying to consolidate its power in the east and the ambitious, expansionist Safavid Shiites meant that a straightforward struggle for territory assumed an ideological dimension. The Safavids proselytized among the Turcomans under Ottoman rule and encouraged those with kızılbaşı sympathies to rebel, particularly after the Ottoman Sultan Selim I defeated Shah Ismail at the Battle of Çaldıran near Lake Van in eastern Anatolia on 23 August 1514. In turn, the kızılbaşı nomads looked to the Safavids for help in resisting attempts to integrate them into the Ottoman state; a process which brought with it not only tighter regulation of their internal affairs and an end to their previous semi-autonomous status but also eligibility for taxation. The first signs of the coming unrest occurred in 1502, when Sultan Beyazit II cut short the three-year-old Ottoman war against Venice in order to return to Constantinople following reports that his kızılbaşı subjects were about to rebel. He subsequently deported some kızılbaşı communities to the relative obscurity of the Peloponnesus. But the deportations failed to prevent a major revolt in 1511, when a kızılbaşı called Karabıyıklıoğlu Hasan Halife (popularly known as Şahkulu or “Slave of the Shah”) fomented an uprising amongst the kızılbaşı in the province of Teke in southwest Anatolia. The rebellion was crushed and Şahkulu was killed. Over the next 20 years, more kızılbaşı revolts followed. But victory at the Battle of Çaldıran had both increased Ottoman prestige—and thus made local non-kızılbaşı chieftains more willing to ally themselves with what they saw as the winning side—and deterred the Safavids from attempting to provide military support to later rebellions. As a result, all of the kızılbaşı revolts were eventually suppressed,65 albeit at a cost which still haunts Turkish society today. Many modern Sunni Turks still regard the kızılbaşı not just as rebels but as a treacherous fifth column who allied themselves with the Ottomans’ Iranian enemies. While for the descendants of the kızılbaşı, who are today generally referred to as Alevis,66 communal memories of the massacres which often accompanied the Ottoman suppression of the revolts have been exacerbated by centuries of discrimination, alienation, and occasional state-tolerated violence.

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The kızılbaşı insurrections accelerated the securitization of religious belief and deepened the identification of the Ottoman state with Sunni Islam. Indeed, until the rise of nationalism in the nineteenth century, heterodox Islam, apostasy, and atheism appear to have been seen as greater security threats than adherence to a non-Islamic religion. At the height of the kızılbaşı rebellions, the scholar and historian Kemalpaşazade, who later served as the chief Sunni Muslim cleric in the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Süleyman I (reigned 1520–66), sought justification for the brutality of their suppression by characterizing the insurrections as a jihad.67 While prosecutions and executions for apostasy, heresy, and atheism continued through the seventeenth century.

The Kızılbaşı Belief System Modern Iran’s close identification with Shia Islam has tempted writers—not least in Iran itself—to project current beliefs back into the time of the early Safavids. However, there is considerable evidence to suggest that Iranian Shia doctrine continued to evolve after the Safavids took power and, particularly in the seventeenth century, move away from the syncretic Sufi mysticism of the kızılbaşı towards the legalistic Twelver Shiism of modern Iran.68 There are no detailed contemporary accounts of the beliefs of the kızılbaşı tribes who rebelled against their Ottoman overlords in the sixteenth century; either by the kızılbaşı themselves or by their Sunni opponents. The tribes were not only geographically isolated but, like the vast majority of the population of rural Anatolia, nearly all illiterate. They also—quite justifiably—feared condemnation and persecution as heretics. Indeed, their Alevi descendants remained highly secretive about their beliefs and rituals deep into the twentieth century. As a result, the primary sources for the beliefs of the kızılbaşı are their Alevi descendants, who probably account for 10 to 15 percent of modern Turkey’s population of around 75 million.69 Until the 1960s, the Alevis were mainly concentrated in remote rural areas, although there are now large Alevi communities in all major Turkish cities. Urbanization has enabled the Alevis to organize and lobby the central government. But it has also highlighted the differences in beliefs, rituals, and practices between different Alevi communities; to the extent that it is more accurate to talk of Alevism as a pluralistic tradition characterized by certain shared features rather than as a single doctrine.70 Similarly, although Alevis share with Shi’a Muslims a veneration of the Prophet’s nephew Ali, the various strands of Alevi belief contain so many syncretic elements that even modern Alevis disagree on whether or not their religion forms part of the Islamic tradition. Many Alevi elders utilize a document called the Buyruk, which they claim was written by the sixth Shia Imam Jafar Al-Sadiq (died 765) and which is regarded as containing the basic principles of Alevi belief. However, the Buyruk is, at best, a guide rather than a sacred text and was almost certainly compiled many centuries after Al-Sadiq’s death; and even the Buyruk only describes one strand of the Alevi tradition.


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Most Alevis see both the Qur’an and orthodox Islam’s required rituals and observances (such as fasting during daylight hours in Ramadan and the pilgrimage to Mecca) as allegorical and thus not binding in a literal sense. The essence of their faith lies not in a text but in oral traditions of ritual and belief, with a strong emphasis on mysticism and personal morality. Many of these rituals and beliefs contain traces of the pre-Islamic religions of Anatolia, including Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism, and Christianity. Even the most obvious Islamic element in Alevi belief, namely the cult of Ali, often appears closer to the Christian veneration of Jesus than to modern Shia Islam. Ali is portrayed as being at least equal in status to the Prophet Muhammed and frequently appears to have been elevated to divine status; sometimes even as part of a Trinity with God and Muhammad. Perhaps most remarkably, both some Alevi beliefs and the role and functions of the Alevi equivalent of a priesthood are clearly inherited from the shamanism of Central Asia as portrayed in the Book of Dede Korkut. Unlike Sunni Muslims, Alevis do not worship in mosques. Alevi religious life centers on the cem, a meeting of the local community which is traditionally held weekly on a Thursday evening and attended by both men and women. The cem is usually held in a large hall in a specially designated building known as a cemevi. The cem is led by a male elder known as a dede, who, like his shaman predecessors, serves not only as a repository and transmitter of sacred knowledge but also as a bard, playing a lute-like instrument known as a saz and singing religious songs. The heart of the cem is a dancelike ritual known as the sema, in which selected Alevis of both sexes move slowly across the floor in time to the music of the saz.71 The Alevis have traditionally placed considerable emphasis on communal cohesion. The dedes also serve as arbiters in disputes and as advisors to the leaders of the community; although they have usually avoided assuming political or military leadership themselves. However, unlike most shamans, the right to be a dede passes from one generation to another by patrilineage; with the result that Alevi communities also include what is effectively a priestly caste.72 Even if orthodox Sunni Islam was growing stronger in the towns, at the time of the kızılbaşı revolts, the countryside appears still to have been characterized by a patchwork of localized belief systems evolving, merging, and diverging within a rough Islamic framework. It is likely that initially the doctrinal lines between rural kızılbaşı and non-kızılbaşı communities were not as clear as later generations would like to believe. These divisions were probably as much a product as a cause of the rebellions; and the two communities later grew further apart both doctrinally and socially as Sunni orthodoxy became increasingly identified with political loyalty to the Ottoman state.73 Nevertheless, even today, Sunni Muslim communities in rural Anatolia still contain traces of beliefs, practices, and traditions which—although they are invariably regarded by the local people as being Islamic—are clearly the legacy of pre-Islamic beliefs; including, though not confined to, cultic practices associated with shrines and holy places and vestiges of nature religions. It is unclear whether the kızılbaşı revolts had any impact on the Sufi tariqah, although the distrust with which they were often regarded by the ulema does not

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appear to have extended to doubts about their political loyalty on the part of the Ottoman regime. Indeed, the Bektashis, the order closest to the kızılbaşı in terms of practices and belief74—to the extent where they are today frequently, if erroneously, regarded as being virtually synonymous with the Alevis—continued to flourish. Named for the thirteenth-century mystic Haji Bektash,75 the order remained loyal to the Ottoman regime throughout the kızılbaşı revolts and even became closely associated with the Janissaries; probably not least because its strong Christian influences would have resonated with the Christian upbringing of the majority of the youths recruited under the devşirme. Given the ruthlessness with which the Ottoman regime persecuted the kızılbaşı during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the tolerance of the Bektashis appears curious. Unlike the kızılbaşı tribes, which were mostly located in remote rural areas, the Bektashi were well-established in towns and cities, including Constantinople. It is possible that the Ottoman sultans did not feel able to suppress the order for fear of antagonizing the notoriously restive Janissaries. It has also been suggested that the central government was trying to use the Bektashis to assimilate the kızılbaşı, thus distancing them from the Safavids by incorporating them into an order which was loyal to the Ottoman state.76 Whatever the reason, official tolerance of the Bektashis remains an anomaly at a time when the Ottoman regime was actively promoting orthodox Sunni Islam both as a force for social cohesion and as a touchstone of political loyalty.

Islamic Codification and Institutional Consolidation If the kızılbaşı revolts had given the Ottomans the incentive to create a more centralized, orthodox Sunni state, the annexation of the Arab heartlands had provided them with the Muslim manpower with which to do it. During the sixteenth century, invigorated by conquest and what seemed to be its military invincibility, the Ottoman state gradually consolidated its institutions and modes of government along more traditional Islamic lines. In keeping with classical Islamic theory, the population of the empire was divided into two tiers: the exclusively Muslim askeri ruling class and the largely non-Muslim reaya, or “subjects.” In the sixteenth century, non-Muslim members of the reaya accounted for approximately 40 percent of the empire’s total population.77 Although it was not always reflected in their material well-being, they were generally regarded as being inferior to their Muslim counterparts and were barred from posts and professions which would have given them authority over Muslims. In addition to having to pay the jizya, they were subject to laws which regulated the way they dressed and prevented them from riding horses or bearing arms. This religious caste system also informed the legal system. In theory, all Ottoman legislation was based on Islamic principles. However, the limited scope of the Shari’a meant that its precepts had to be supplemented by what became known as örf î law,78 which consisted of commands and decrees known as fermans issued by the sultan. Unlike the Shari’a, which was believed to be divinely inspired, the source of örf î law was clearly human. Nevertheless, both the published texts of the individual örf î laws and the collections of legislation promulgated by a sultan known


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as kanunnames were preceded by a declaration asserting their compliance with Islamic principles. Indeed, by the time of Süleyman I, Islam and the state tended to be regarded as an integrated whole; a concept encapsulated in the official Ottoman motto of din-ü devlet, or “religion and state.” Judges, known as qadis, were drawn from the ulema and were responsible for dispensing justice But the administrative officials who were responsible for maintaining law and order were recruited from outside the ulema. Known as ehl-i örf, or “men of the sword,” their responsibilities included military functions, bringing miscreants to court, and implementing punishments. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there were often tensions between the qadis and the ehl-i örf, particularly when the latter demanded stiffer punishments than those foreseen in the Shari’a. Sometimes the ehl-i örf prevailed; at other times it was the qadis. There were also occasions when örf î law addressed an issue already covered by the Shari’a. When there was a clash or contradiction between the two systems, the qadi tended to apply örf î law; with the result that the theoretical supremacy of the Shari’a was set aside and divine law effectively became subordinated to human law.79 All criminal and civil cases involving Muslims, regardless of whether they were related to Shari’a or örf î law, were tried in Shari’a courts. These courts were established throughout the empire and presided over by a single qadi. In addition to a thorough knowledge of Shari’a and örf î law, the qadi was also expected to consult the collections of fatwas, the rulings on religious and legal matters by the Sheikhulislam, the most prominent member of the ulema, who was appointed by the sultan. The fatwas were usually in the form of questions and answers on a specific issue. Although they did not have the force of law, they fulfilled a role similar to that of precedent in some modern legal systems and were rarely contradicted. The Ottoman legal system followed the Hanafi school of Islamic law. But in parts of the empire where other schools were predominant, such as the Arab provinces, exceptions were sometimes made to allow qadis from these schools to hear cases under the supervision of a Hanafi qadi. There was no system of appeal, although individual decisions of qadis were sometimes reviewed by the Imperial Council in Constantinople, known as the Divan, which acted as a form of supreme court and could, if necessary, order a retrial. In addition, the Divan served as a court of first and final jurisdiction for what were regarded as special cases. Individuals could also seek a hearing at the Divan by presenting petitions to officials accompanying the sultan during the ceremonies surrounding Friday midday prayers in Constantinople. Both Shari’a and örf î law were based on the principle of territoriality and were applied to everyone, regardless of faith or nationality, in the Ottoman domains. However, as some of the Shari’a only applied to Muslims, the qadis would sometimes display some flexibility when it came to non-Muslims. For example, the Shari’a only forbade Muslims from consuming alcohol and qadis were often prepared to overlook its consumption by non-Muslims provided that it did not disturb the public peace. The recognized non-Muslim communities were also allowed to establish their own courts to handle disputes between members of their own communities. Under the system of judiciary privileges known as Capitulations,80 cases involving foreigners from specific countries could be tried by consular courts.

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However, although the parties usually abided by them, under the Hanafi school of law, decisions handed down by the non-Muslim community courts were not legally binding. Non-Muslim Ottoman subjects who were dissatisfied with a ruling by their community court could—and sometimes did—apply to the Shari’a courts; and under Ottoman law the qadi then had to hear the case. But any case involving a Muslim and a non-Muslim had to be heard in a Shari’a court; where, in theory if not always in practice, evidence by a Muslim carried greater legal weight than evidence by a non-Muslim. As well as judging cases in the Shari’a courts, the qadis were also responsible for regulating local markets, imposing sales taxes, overseeing religious foundations, appointing mosque functionaries such as imams, establishing the monetary standards of the mint, drafting contracts for purchases and sales, and registering marriage and divorces. Religious functionaries, such as clerics attached to mosques and the teachers in both the elementary mekteb schools and the religious training colleges known as madrasas, were exclusively drawn from the ulema. There was as yet no secular education. In addition, as the most literate section of society, the ulema accounted for a large proportion of the scribes and other officials who worked in the state bureaucracy. The names of all of the members of the ulema were recorded in great ledgers. Unlike other members of the askeri class, who were officially regarded as being slaves of the sultan and whose personal estates were confiscated by the state on their death, the ulema retained their nominal freedom, thus allowing their heirs to inherit. The result was the closest the Ottoman Empire had to a hereditary aristocracy, with successive generations of the influential members of the ulema accumulating not only privilege and power but also often considerable personal wealth. In the state protocol the Sheikhulislam was usually ranked on a par with the Grand Vizier, the sultan’s chief minister. There were even occasions when the Sheikhulislam issued a fatwa which limited the scope of the sultan’s authority. By the eighteenth century, the ulema had become one of the most powerful elements in the Ottoman state apparatus; and the old rivalry with the ehl-i örf had been replaced by collusion and cooperation as both sought to preserve their status and privileges. However, there were now divisions within the ulema itself. By the late eighteenth century, the upper echelons of the ulema had become characterized by corruption, nepotism, and even the blatant purchase of lucrative posts; all of which served to fuel resentment amongst its often impoverished, lower-ranking members, who, particularly in Constantinople, became one of the most unruly segments of the population.

The Urban Landscape The increasing Islamization of public life from the sixteenth century onwards had an impact on the urban landscape; almost literally setting Muslim principles in wood and stone. Islamic strictures governing the private realm—including diet and the sanctity of the family—meant that Ottoman cities became divided into


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two main sections: the commercial and industrial zone where people of different faiths intermingled relatively freely, with only shops selling products such as pork and alcohol being segregated; and residential areas, which were divided into selfcontained Muslim and non-Muslim neighborhoods, each centered on a mosque, church, or synagogue. The Shari’a’s emphasis on female modesty also affected the architectural style of Muslim dwellings. Where means allowed, there was a division between a reception area, where the head of the household would receive visitors, and the family’s living quarters, usually referred to in English as the harem, from the Arabic word haram, meaning “forbidden.” The outside walls tended either to be windowless or have small, high windows to protect the women of the family from prying eyes. In larger houses, windows opened into an enclosed courtyard or garden. The emphasis on privacy meant that representatives of the central government rarely showed themselves in residential areas, which were effectively run by community leaders and clergy, who also served as intermediaries between the community and the authorities. But there were still traces of syncreticism. Almost every Ottoman city had a local saint, whose tomb was usually located on a hilltop beyond the city boundary and served as a focal point for un-Islamic practices such as requests for the saint’s direct or indirect intercession in the material world. Although the ulema dominated the “official” Islam of the courts and mosques, everyday religious life still appears to have been heavily influenced by the tariqah; and local religious identity tended to focus on the tariqah lodge or dergah rather than the mosque. Even in the cities, the tariqah appear to have remained repositories of heterodox, and arguably syncretic, beliefs and practices throughout the Ottoman period. Whenever Islamic heretical movements arose, they tended to emerge from the tariqah rather than from the ulema. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there were a number of prosecutions and executions of charismatic individuals with a tariqah background on charges of disseminating heretical or atheistic beliefs. However, arguably the most influential heretical movement emerged not from the Muslim population but from the Jewish community in the Aegean port of Smyrna, the modern Izmir. In 1648 Sabbatai Zevi (1626–76), a student of the Jewish mystical tradition known as the Kabbalah, proclaimed himself the Messiah. Driven out of Smyrna by the local rabbis, Zevi traveled first to Salonica and then to Palestine and Cairo. By the time he returned to Smyrna in the fall of 1665, Zevi had built up a considerable following, not only amongst the Jews in the Ottoman Empire but also beyond its borders in North Africa and Western Europe. In 1666 Zevi traveled to Constantinople, where Ottoman concerns about the security implications of any form of heterodoxy, Muslim or non-Muslim, resulted in his arrest and trial. Zevi was given the choice between execution and conversion to Islam. He chose the latter and eventually went into exile in what is now Albania, where he died in 1676. Many of Zevi’s followers, disillusioned by what they regarded as his cowardice, returned to orthodox Judaism. Others followed his lead and converted to Islam. Even though they were officially classed as Muslims, in practice they continued to form a distinct community. Some even continued to practice Judaism in secret, in

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the belief that Zevi’s apparent apostasy was a necessary stage in his Messiahship and that he would one day return to the world.81

Conservatism and Decline During its heyday, Ottomans frequently regarded their empire’s preeminence as a mark of divine favor. When apocalyptical predictions that the Muslim millennium (19 October 1591 to 7 October 1592) would herald the end of the world failed to materialize, many Ottomans took this as proof that the empire had come to closer to perfection than any other Muslim state. After such self-assurance, the early years of the seventeenth century came as a shock. Internally, the empire was beset with divisions as rival factions in Constantinople, backed by the Janissaries, toppled and appointed sultans in a succession of bloody coups. On the battlefield, the Ottoman Empire suffered a series of setbacks, temporarily losing Baghdad to the Safavids while raiding Ukrainian Cossacks sacked villages on the Bosphorus, just a few miles from Constantinople. In retrospect, Ottoman political and military power can be seen to have peaked in the sixteenth century. Yet the decline was neither precipitous nor consistent. Not only were there brief periods of relative renewal, but the empire continued expanding territorially until 1683, when the Ottomans famously failed to capture the city of Vienna.82 Nor, to the Ottomans at least, did their failing military and political power appear necessarily irreversible. Through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there was a vigorous debate in Ottoman society about what could be done to reverse the decline. Increasingly, the debate came to focus not so much on practical issues—although there was an awareness that these needed to be addressed—but on Islam. There were those who argued that the empire needed to modernize and incorporate the changes that were taking place in Europe. But the majority, led by the ulema, maintained that innovation and change were the problem, not the solution; and that the empire needed to regain divine favor by returning to what was increasingly seen as the golden age of Süleyman I. The response was a retreat into conservatism. Sultan Murat IV (reigned 1623– 40) initiated administrative reforms to try to improve efficiency and the increasingly parlous state of the empire’s finances. He also introduced a program of social austerity in an attempt to encourage stricter adherence to Islamic principles. In March 1631, he issued an edict calling for a more rigorous application of the sumptuary laws related to non-Muslims, declaring: “Insult and humiliate infidels in garment, clothing, and manner of dress according to Muslim law and imperial statute.”83 The conservatism of some elements in the ulema went even further. On 16 September 1633, in a sermon delivered in the Sultan Ahmet mosque in Constantinople, a leading conservative preacher named Kadızade Mehmet (c. 1574–1635) fiercely denounced all innovations, not only in religious practice and belief but also in daily life. His sermon set the tone for the rest of the seventeenth century. Kadızade Mehmet also gave his name to what became known as the Kadızadeli movement, which was largely composed of the rank and file of the ulema and combined personal puritanism with a stubborn resistance to any innovation, citing a


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hadith of the Prophet Muhammad which states: “Avoid novelties, for every novelty is an innovation, and every innovation is an error.”84 The result was an intellectual sclerosis which both isolated the Ottomans from the technical advances, economic vigor, and intellectual ferment of Central and Western Europe and severely hindered the dissemination of any form of knowledge within the empire itself. Although some of the non-Muslim minorities had been allowed to operate printing presses in their own languages, conservative reluctance to allow the mechanical reproduction of the word of God meant that it was not until 1727 that the first printing press in the Arabic script—which was also used for the writing of Turkish—was established in Constantinople. Even then, the press was only allowed on condition that it did not print the Qur’an, hadith collections or works on Islamic theology, exegesis, or law;85 and even this printing press did not operate regularly until 1783. Such conservatism served to stifle rather than revive Ottoman fortunes. During the eighteenth century, the gap between the Ottoman Empire and the emerging European powers began to widen. The sultan still ruled a vast territory. But on the battlefield the Ottoman advance westward into Europe had been irreversibly checked and reversed. To the north, Russia’s imperialist ambitions were steadily eroding Ottoman influence around the Black Sea. Inside the empire, the weakening of the power of the center was exacerbated by palace intrigues and sporadic riots in Constantinople, resulting in a loosening of central control over the provinces not only in the predominantly non-Muslim Balkans but also in Arabia. During the eighteenth century, a puritanical Muslim revivalist movement based on the teachings of Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab (c.1703–92) arose in central Arabia in a region known as Najd. In 1744, Wahhabism was adopted by the family of a local emir, Muhammad ibn Saud. By the end of the eighteenth century, the al Saud family had succeeded not only in imposing both Wahhabism and their own political authority over most of the Najd but in seizing control of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina. The rebellion was not finally suppressed until 1818, when the al Saud forces were defeated by the army of Sultan Mahmud II (reigned 1808–39). By the time Mahmud II was able to crush the revolt in Arabia, Ottoman power had already begun the final stage of its slow decline. In 1768, long-running tensions with Russia once again broke out into open warfare in what became known as the Third Ottoman-Russian War. The war was ended by the Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca of 1774, under which the Ottomans ceded territory to Russia, allowed its vessels to navigate freely through the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, and granted its merchants commercial privileges. The Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca also changed the relationship between the Ottoman state and Islam. Under the terms of the treaty, the Ottomans acceded to the creation of an independent Crimean khanate, which became the first majority Muslim territory to be detached from the empire.86 In return, the Crimean Muslims accepted the spiritual authority of the Sultan as caliph. The Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca thus also became the first document to recognize the sultan’s claim to a sphere of spiritual authority which was geographically distinct from that of his political authority.87

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The Ottoman sultans are often portrayed as basing their political authority on the caliphate. This is misleading. The Ottoman sultans had seen themselves as the leaders of the Muslim world ever since the conquest of Constantinople. But any claim to spiritual authority was the product, not the basis, of military and political power. Indeed, military and political pre-eminence were regarded as proof of the divine favor that qualified the Ottomans for leadership of the Muslim world. In as much as they used the title of caliph at all, it was as an honorific. But in the late eighteenth century, Ottoman propagandists began to turn to the spiritual authority endowed by the caliphate as a substitute for the empire’s declining political and military power. Following his conquest of the Hijaz in 1516–17, Sultan Selim I had assumed the title of servitor of the sanctuaries of Mecca and Medina. But there is no evidence that he took the title of caliph. However, in the late eighteenth century, Ottoman writers began to cite a hitherto unknown tradition that in 1517 the incumbent caliph, the Abbasid al-Mutawakkil, had officially transferred the title to Selim I at a ceremony in Ayasofya Mosque (the former Orthodox church of Saint Sophia) in Constantinople. This is almost certainly fiction. Not only are there doubts about the legitimacy of al-Mutawakkil’s claim to the caliphate, but, even if the story of the transfer is true, the caliphate is a divine prerogative and not a mortal’s to give. Nevertheless, in the 150 years following the Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca, as the empire wilted under the twin pressures of fissiparous nationalism and Western demands for internal reform, Islam and the caliphate were used first as a stabilizing force to try to unify the empire’s Muslim population and then as the basis for a multiethnic alternative to nationalism.

2

Reform and Religious Homogenization

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ilitary setbacks during the last years of the eighteenth century intensified the pressure on the Ottoman state to reform. Defeat in the fourth OttomanRussian war of 1787–92 was followed by the loss of de facto control over Egypt, which was occupied by Napoleon Bonaparte of France in 1798; the first time since the Crusades that Europeans had seized one of the Muslim heartlands in the Middle East. Further proof of Ottoman—and Muslim—weakness came in 1801. After Ottoman attempts to dislodge Bonaparte’s had army failed, it was the British who intervened to evict the French from Egypt.1 In what was to become one of the defining characteristics of the next 120 years, the Ottoman Empire was now no longer so much fighting the countries of Christian Europe as being fought over by them; a pawn rather than a player in a new superpower rivalry. It was this manifest military weakness that finally forced the Ottomans to change. Previous attempts at reform during the eighteenth century had been partial and piecemeal, such as trying to improve the efficiency of the tax collection system and the introduction of European armaments. But, however confident many Ottomans may have remained of their spiritual superiority to the Christian powers of Europe, by the turn of the nineteenth century, reform was no longer merely a matter for debate; it was a question of survival. Not surprisingly, the most earnest attempts at reform took place in the area seen as most vital to the empire’s continued existence; namely, the military. In 1793, Sultan Selim III (reigned 1789–1807) attempted to establish what became known as a Nizam-i Cedid, or “New Order”; a modern army, trained and equipped on European lines and recruited from native-born Muslims. Selim also founded new military, naval, and engineering schools, which included French advisors and instructors. The creation of a rival force inevitably caused resentment amongst the Janissaries. Selim’s plans for fiscal reforms to raise the revenue to finance his new army also threatened the vested interests of provincial tax farmers. In 1807, Selim’s “New Order” collapsed amid violent protests in Constantinople. He was forced to abdicate in favor of his cousin, who became Mustafa IV (reigned 1807–8). Mustafa was then himself deposed and replaced by his brother, who became Mahmud II (reigned 1808–39).

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During the first decade of his reign, Mahmud made three attempts to revive Selim’s plans for a modern army. Each time he had to back down in the face of a revolt by the Janissaries. However, in 1821 simmering Greek nationalist aspirations had erupted into a rebellion in the Peloponnesus, which was eventually to lead to the establishment of the Kingdom of Greece in July 1832. It was the first time that a nationalist uprising in the Ottoman Empire had led to the creation of an independent state.2 Three failed attempts to invade the Peloponnesus during the early years of the rebellion had once again demonstrated the need for the reform of the Ottoman military. But in 1826, when Mahmud announced new plans to create a modern army, the Janissaries mutinied. Despite their close association with the Bektashi tariqah, in previous confrontations with the central government the Janissaries had been able to rely on support from the ulema, who feared the repercussions of any reforms for their own entrenched privileges. However, relations had recently become strained and there had been clashes between the Janissaries and theological students on the streets of Constantinople. One of the reasons for the tension appears to have been a growing suspicion of the Bektashis and what were increasingly seen as their Christian sympathies; a distrust which had been fuelled by Muslim outrage at the Greek rebellion and reports of atrocities committed by the insurgents against local Muslims.3 When the Janissaries mutinied on 14 June 1826, they were on their own. Mahmud had pre-positioned troops loyal to him in the capital. When the Janissaries barricaded themselves in their barracks, Mahmud’s troops brought up cannons and massacred them by the thousand. Those who were not killed in the bombardment were executed or sent into exile and the Janissaries were formally abolished. Mahmud also outlawed the Bektashi order, executing its most prominent members, destroying several of its lodges in Constantinople, and transferring its remaining property to other tariqah—mainly to the Naqshbandi order. In his imperial decree disbanding the Janissaries, Mahmud declared that their abolition was necessary in order to “revive the religion and the Shari’a of the Prophet.” He named his new army Âsakir-i Mansure-ye Muhammediye, or “The Victorious Mohammedan Troops,” and an imam was attached to each unit to lead the prayers and instruct the soldiers in the principles of Islam.4 In 1834, Mahmud founded a military academy and established training units within the military corps with soldiers as instructors. He also founded schools of medicine and surgery, which were later combined. Judging that there were insufficient teaching materials in Turkish, Mahmud ordered that all instruction should be in French. Four years later, Mahmud announced plans to reform the Ottoman school system. Protests from the ulema, who had traditionally enjoyed a monopoly of the education of Muslims, prevented any change to elementary schools. But in 1838 the decision was taken to open state-run, non-religious middle schools known as rüşdiye to prepare adolescent male graduates of the ulema-run elementary system for the new institutions of higher learning. The first rüşdiye school was opened in 1840. It is unclear whether the rüşdiye schools originally operated on a sectarian basis, but they were soon admitting both Muslim and non-Muslims; making it the first time in Ottoman history that youths of different religions were educated side by side.

REFORM AND RELIGIOUS HOMOGENIZATION

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Perhaps more importantly, in 1833 Mahmud established a new Translation Bureau in what was to become the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Since the eighteenth century, diplomatic communications between the Ottoman authorities and the representatives of foreign powers had been conducted via translators known as dragomans, who were attached to the embassies in Constantinople. Almost all of the dragomans, and the official translators at the Ottoman imperial council, had been Greek Orthodox Ottoman citizens. But the Greek War of Independence had triggered a purge of Greeks in Ottoman service and resulted in a shortage of foreign language speakers, particularly of French, which was the main diplomatic language of the time. Mahmud’s new Translation Bureau instructed young bureaucrats in French, which was also taught in the rüşdiye schools. Knowledge of French rapidly became a prerequisite for advancement in either the military or the civilian bureaucracy; and thus inadvertently exposed the Ottoman elite to European ideas and intellectual trends by enabling them to read works which had not been translated into Turkish. Mahmud also attempted to strengthen the central government. During the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the Ottoman periphery had grown in strength relative to the center; with the result that local interests were sometimes able to defy the authority of the government in Constantinople. Mahmud restructured the bureaucracy, creating embryonic ministries of the Interior, Foreign Affairs, Justice, and Finance. The result was a dramatic growth in the size of the bureaucracy. During the course of the nineteenth century, the number of bureaucrats in the state apparatus grew sixtyfold; and the central administration in Constantinople, known in Europe as the Sublime Porte,5 became a political powerbase in its own right. The rüşdiye schools supplemented rather than replaced the religious seminaries or madrasas run by the ulema. However, the latter increasingly attracted pupils from the poorer sections of society. The result was the gradual development of a two-tier system in which the higher echelons of the military and the bureaucracy were filled with an elite of French-speaking graduates of the schools which taught secular subjects; while the lower echelons, including the ulema, comprised those who had received only a religious education. The removal of the ulema’s monopoly of the education of Muslims was accompanied by limitations on its financial and administrative independence. In 1826, Mahmud established a directorate of religious foundations, known as the Nezaret-i Evkaf, within the state bureaucracy. The Nezaret-i Evkaf assumed control of the assets and revenues of all the religious foundations which had previously been managed by the ulema. The only exceptions were the foundations established to support the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, which remained in the hands of the ulema. Previously, although the sultan had the right to appoint and dismiss the sheikhulislam, the ulema itself had been administratively autonomous. Mahmud now restructured the ulema into a bureaucratic hierarchy under the sheikhulislam, effectively incorporating it into the centralized state apparatus. But the most controversial of Mahmud’s reforms was his decision in 1829 to make Western clothing compulsory for all male citizens. Previously, Ottoman sumptuary laws had, in theory at least, made it possible to determine the religious

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beliefs, profession, and status of all males merely from their clothing. In practice, the laws had frequently been flouted by some members of the Ottoman elite.6 But they nevertheless provided a major psychological boost for poorer Muslims, for whom they provided visible proof of their superiority to non-Muslims. The introduction of European military uniforms of boots and close-fitting pants could be defended on practical grounds as they improved maneuverability. But there could be no such justification for Mahmud’s decision that civil servants and court functionaries should wear frock coats and black pants similar to those fashionable in Western Europe. Even though the distinctive cut of the Ottoman frock coats resulted in a recognizably different style, known as the “stambouline,” its inspiration was unmistakably the infidel West. Most contentiously, Mahmud banned the turban in favor of the fez, first in the army and then for all civil servants. Such was the resistance from the ulema that Mahmud was forced to grant a special dispensation which allowed them to retain their robes and turbans; although everybody else had to adopt the fez.7 Conservative opposition to the new dress code was exacerbated by its popularity with non-Muslims, who were no longer required to dress in a manner that demonstrated their subordinate status. The ulema’s insistence on retaining their robes and turbans made them a visible symbol of conservatism. There were instances of sheikhulislams who supported reforms in the ultimately erroneous belief that, by strengthening the Ottoman state, they would help preserve its Muslim character.8 But they were a minority. Most of the ulema remained resolutely opposed to change. Yet, in practice, there was little they could do. Increasingly, the ulema became not so much an active component of the Ottoman state as its conservative Islamic conscience; its higher echelons resisting change within the bureaucratic apparatus, while its rank and file were invariably at the forefront of similarly motivated protests and demonstrations on the streets.

The Tanzimat Mahmud died on 30 June 1839. He was succeeded by his 16-year-old son Abdülmecit (reigned 1839–61). On 3 November 1839, in front of a gathering of Ottoman dignitaries and foreign diplomats in the Square of the Rose Garden outside Abdülmecit’s palace, the Foreign Minister Reşit Pasha9 (1800–58) read out what became known as the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi, or “Noble Rescript of the Rose Garden,”10 in which the new sultan pledged to introduce a program of administrative reforms. The rescript has traditionally be seen as marking the beginning of what became known as the era of the Tanzimat-i Hayriye, or “Beneficial Reforms,” which lasted until the promulgation of the first Ottoman constitution in 1876.11 Yet, as was to remain the case throughout the decades that followed, there was at the time no popular pressure for reform; indeed, the mass of empire’s Muslims, including the ulema, appear to have remained resolutely opposed. That reform occurred at all was the result of a combination of pressure from the European powers and the efforts of a handful of reformist Ottoman bureaucrats. Although the respective contributions of each are open to debate, there is little doubt that neither could


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have produced reform on their own. However, their relationship was marked more by frustration and suspicion than harmonious cooperation; the bureaucrats rightly suspecting that European pressure was frequently based more on self-interest than principle, while the Europeans remained similarly unconvinced of the Ottomans’ professed commitment to reform, particularly when it came to the rights of non-Muslims.12 Although Reşit Pasha had been one of the foremost advocates of reform during Mahmud’s reign, the main motivation behind the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi appears to have been not so much reforming the Ottoman Empire as preserving its territorial integrity by securing European military and political support. At the time the rescript was announced, the empire was under threat from the growing military might of its nominal vassal, Muhammad Ali (1769–1849), the governor of Egypt.13 Under his son Ibrahim Pasha (1789–1848), Muhammad Ali’s army had effectively annexed Palestine and a large proportion of what is now Syria. Reşit Pasha’s strategy was successful. Encouraged by the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi’s promises of reform, Britain, Austria, Russia, and Prussia intervened to issue Muhammad Ali with an ultimatum14 which forced him to curb his territorial ambitions and downsize his army. The Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi was more of a statement of intent than a detailed blueprint of specific measures. It promised to: restructure the legal system; reform tax collection and abolish the system of tax farming; establish guarantees for the life, honor, and property of the sultan’s subjects regardless of religious belief;15 and introduce conscription, though no mention was made of whether this would also include non-Muslims. However, it was carefully couched in language that would reassure the ulema even as it encouraged the European powers. The rescript even began by directly attributing the Ottoman Empire’s decline over the previous 150 years to its failure to abide by the precepts of the Qur’an and the Shari’a. Nevertheless, the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi did introduce a fundamental change in the Ottoman concept of law. Previously, legislative functions had been vested in the person of the sultan, with the result that all laws had to be promulgated anew when each sultan ascended the throne. The Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi introduced the concept of a statute book which existed independent of the sultan, which he was responsible for enforcing and to which he was theoretically subservient. There was a parallel change in the de iure responsibilities of the Meclis-i Vâlâ-i Ahkâm-i Adliye, or “Supreme Council for Judicial Regulations,” which was responsible for drafting new laws. Prior to the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi, the council had theoretically been only a consultative body. It was now redefined as the legislature, which then forwarded laws to the sultan for his ratification; although in practice it had no means of ensuring that he approved them. The most important legacy of the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi was the precedent it set. Over the next 35 years, a small number of Ottoman bureaucrats, most of them graduates of the new educational institutions, attempted to bring the Ottoman legal system closer into line with the systems in contemporary Western Europe. For its proponents, reform was a means of regenerating the empire so that it could resist the predatory ambitions of the European powers. For its opponents, reform was usually regarded both as an instrument of foreign interference in the empire’s

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internal affairs and an affront to the divine will as expressed in the Qur’an and the Shari’a. The first substantive reform came in 1840 with the promulgation of a new Penal Code, in which the Shari’a was supplemented by borrowings from French law. However, in 1841 the introduction of a new Commercial Code, which was drawn almost exclusively from French law, had to be suspended following protests from the ulema; not least after Reşit Pasha, its main architect, responded to a question about its conformity with the Shari’a by declaring: “The Holy Law has nothing to do with the matter.”16 The new Commercial Code was redrafted and finally introduced in 1850. It was again largely based on French law, although this time the bureaucrats were careful to avoid antagonizing the ulema by adducing precedents from the application of the Shari’a. It was not until 1856 that an attempt was made to challenge the religious discrimination enshrined in Ottoman law. The Hatt-i Hümayun, or “Reform Edict,” which was officially promulgated on 18 February 1856, again coincided with an attempt by the Ottomans to placate the European powers. It was promulgated one week before the warring parties met in Paris to negotiate the peace agreement which formally ended the Crimean War (1853–56). The war had arisen out of an attempt by Russia to exert influence over the Ottoman state by establishing itself as the protector of the Orthodox Christians in the empire.17 One of the main objectives of the Hatt-i Hümayun was thus to remove any pretexts for future foreign interference; an effort that was acknowledged in the Treaty of Paris of 30 March 1856, which recognized “the high value” of the Hatt-i Hümayun and rejected the right of foreign powers to interfere in internal Ottoman affairs. The Hatt-i Hümayun had been drawn up by a team of Ottoman bureaucrats under two of Reşit Pasha’s former protégés: Grand Vizier Ali Pasha (1815–71) and Foreign Minister Fuad Pasha (1815–69). Unlike the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi, the text of the Hatt-i Hümayun explicitly committed the Ottoman Empire to: removing every “distinction or designation” based on “religion, language or race”; lifting restrictions on the employment of non-Muslims in the state bureaucracy; abolishing the different tax status of Muslims and non-Muslims; and making non-Muslims liable for military service, although it also foresaw the establishment of a system through which non-Muslims could buy exemption from actually serving.18 Most controversially, the Hatt-i Hümayun proposed transferring the jurisdiction of “commercial, correctional, and criminal cases” between Muslims and non-Muslims away from the Shari’a courts to new “mixed tribunals,” which were presided over by a panel of both Muslim and non-Muslim judges. The edict also allowed foreigners to purchase property in the Ottoman Empire—a measure which was widely assumed to be intended to facilitate purchases by non-Muslim Europeans. Although some of the Muslim Ottoman elite welcomed the Hatt-i Hümayun, many others were outraged. Even Reşit Pasha himself wrote a lengthy memorandum describing the Hatt-i Hümayun as the “edict of concessions” under pressure from foreign powers and warned that it would exacerbate tensions between Muslims and non-Muslims throughout the empire.19


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Not surprisingly, non-Muslim Ottoman subjects tended to be more supportive of the edict, not only because it brought them legal equality with Muslims but because the new secular tribunals would weaken the power of the clergy within the different millets. However, it did little to assuage either non-Muslim demands for greater rights or separatist nationalism. If anything, it probably fuelled both. More dangerously, the perception that the edict had been promulgated under pressure from the European powers increased Muslim resentment towards the empire’s non-Muslims, who were increasingly seen not so much as subject communities but as resident aliens—and agents of the Christian powers, who posed a threat not only to the territorial integrity of the empire but also to the Muslim way of life. Nevertheless, further reforms followed. Under pressure from British Ambassador, Viscount Stratford Canning (1786–1880), the death penalty for apostasy had already been repealed in 1844. Most of the remaining Shari’a punishments for criminal offences were abolished by the new Imperial Penal Code of 1858, which again was based principally on French law. In September 1859, resentment at the reforms triggered an abortive uprising in Constantinople. Known as the Kuleli Incident, after the military barracks of Kuleli on the Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus where the leading conspirators were subsequently interned and interrogated, it was led by a Sheikh Ahmed, a teacher at a madrasa in the Beyazit neighborhood of the city. The conspirators’ main grievance was the Hatt-i Hümayun’s introduction of legal equality between Muslims and non-Muslims, which they claimed violated Islamic law. They appear to have planned to depose Sultan Abdülmecit and replace him with his younger brother Abdülaziz (1830–76), although there is no evidence that the latter was even aware of the plot. The conspiracy was uncovered before it could be realized. Most of those arrested were members of the ulema, but they also included a number of army officers whose religious outrage had been sharpened by the fact that their pay was several months in arrears. It is unclear how great a threat the conspiracy posed. But it was taken seriously enough by the Ottoman authorities for them to pass a series of measures to try to prevent a recurrence, including limiting the number of theological students in Constantinople, reducing the influence of religious leaders by imposing a tax on mosques and tariqah lodges, and paying the garrison in the capital three months’ back pay.20 Outside Constantinople, the impact of the Hatt-i Hümayun appears to have been more gradual. This was due partly to the reluctance of many Muslim provincial officials to implement the reforms and partly to constraints of time and space. Communications were often difficult. It appears that for some years after the Hatti Hümayun many provincial officials and judges were simply unaware of all of the details of the reforms and carried on much as before. Neither Muslims nor non-Muslims were enthusiastic about applying the principle of equality to military service. Few Muslims were prepared to fight alongside nonbelievers, and even fewer to serve under non-Muslim officers. While few non-Muslims relished being separated from their land and family for up to five years’ service in the military. Although the Ottoman authorities did initiate plans to conscript non-Muslims into the military, in the end they abandoned the idea and

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introduced a military service exemption tax called the bedel-i askerî.21 In theory, Muslims could also buy their way out of military service by paying the tax, albeit at a prohibitively higher rate than non-Muslims. Even if implementation was slow, the introduction of the mixed courts of law foreseen in the Hatt-i Hümayun proved less problematic. In fact, mixed police courts had already been introduced in Constantinople in the 1840s. In 1861, the Commercial Code was amended to allow the establishment of mixed commercial courts throughout the empire. Three years later, new regulations governing provincial administration introduced a regional system of civil and criminal tribunals known as Nizâmiye courts, which were presided over by panels of judges including both Muslims and non-Muslims. The Nizâmiye courts could apply both the new commercial and penal codes and, if applicable, religious law. However, the other tribunals—including the Shari’a, consular, and non-Muslim cemaat courts—continued to function. The result was considerable judicial confusion, with a plethora of courts and overlapping jurisdictions. The introduction of the Nizâmiye court system highlighted the need for the codification of a single civil law that could be applied to Muslims and non-Muslims alike. Francophile reformists favored the introduction of the French Civil Code of 1804. By July 1867, a committee headed by Ali Pasha had translated 1,500 articles of the French Code into Turkish. However, the wholesale adoption of a foreign law was opposed by other members of the Ottoman elite, led by the statesman and scholar Ahmet Cevdet Pasha (1822–95), who argued: “The civil code forms the basis of laws and by-laws in every state. The Shari’a should be the basis for our laws and by-laws because our state is based on the Shari’a.”22 The Ottoman government was persuaded by Ahmet Cevdet’s argument and in 1868 appointed him to head a commission working in the Ministry of Justice which would oversee the compilation of what was called the Mecelle, from the Arabic word Majalla, meaning “book of law.”23 Ahmet Cevdet sought to retain the Shari’a as the basis of the Mecelle and then supplement it by formulating new articles which were informed by the provisions of the Shari’a. The ulema contended that, as this required the interpretation of the Shari’a, the codification should be conducted by the office of the sheikhulislam. In April 1870, after five volumes of the Mecelle had been completed, Sheikhulislam Hasan Fehmi Efendi succeeded in having Ahmet Cevdet dismissed and the commission transferred to his office. But the publication of the sixth volume of the Mecelle provoked such criticism that in August 1871 the commission was transferred back to the Ministry of Justice. Ahmet Cevdet was reinstated as head of the commission and immediately began work on redrafting the sixth volume. Religion was also a factor in Ottoman reluctance, despite intense pressure from Europe, to abolish slavery. The frequent references to slavery in the Qur’an meant that most Muslims at the time regarded the institution as implicitly divinely sanctioned. However, the Qur’an does explicitly exhort Muslims to treat slaves humanely.24 As a result, although there were some Ottomans who saw slavery as an abomination in its own right, the primary focus of Ottoman reform efforts was on slave-trading rather than slaveholding; which in itself gradually reduced the number of slaves. The slave market in Constantinople was closed as early as 1846.


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Nevertheless, in the late nineteenth century, there were still around 400 female slaves serving in nonsexual functions in the Ottoman imperial harem. While the imperial family is recorded as owning 194 serving and retired eunuchs as late as May 1903.25 Ironically, classical Islamic theology’s prohibition of interest eventually increased the empire’s dependence on the Christian European powers. By the early nineteenth century, underdevelopment, poor fiscal management, and the drain on the imperial treasury of wars and insurrections had placed an intolerable strain on the empire’s finances. Previously, the Ottoman state had responded to financial crises by debasing the coinage, confiscations, or increasing tax revenue. But, by the first half of the nineteenth century, these were no longer viable options. Although there had been occasional attempts to circumvent the Shari’a’s ban on interest,26 the majority of Islamic religious scholars remained rigorously opposed to all forms of what they regarded as usury. As a result, the Ottoman Empire became dependent on borrowing from the financiers and money-lenders concentrated in the Galata neighborhood of Istanbul; almost all of whom were non-Muslims. The Ottoman authorities tended to issue bonds and promissory notes based on future state revenues, which were then discounted by the “Galata bankers”; thus providing a theoretical shield against accusations that the state was engaging in usury. Initially, the Galata bankers drew on their own resources, but by the 1840s they were also tapping the financial markets in Europe, borrowing in their own name and passing the money on to the Turkish state.27 However, by the time that interest was formally legalized by the new Commercial Code of 1850, it had become clear that even the resources of the Galata bankers were no longer sufficient to meet the empire’s needs. An attempt to generate funds through payment orders known as kaime-i mütebere-i nakdiye, which were similar to paper money, collapsed after so many were issued to meet the increased expenditure during the Crimean War that the authorities lost track of the number in circulation. The Ottoman authorities had previously examined the possibility of acquiring funds from other Muslim countries by securitizing state revenues, but they had been forced to abandon the idea when it became clear that their coreligionists simply did not have sufficient resources. In 1854 the Ottoman state concluded what was to be the first of a long series of foreign loans when it borrowed £5,000,000, mostly from the financial markets in London and Paris. Another foreign loan in 1855 failed to cover the Ottoman state’s growing deficits. Nevertheless, it was now clear that the Ottoman Empire’s survival was dependent not only on military support from Christian powers of Europe but also on access to their financial resources. On 4 February 1863, the relationship—regarded as symbiotic by its advocates, parasitic by its opponents—was formalized through the establishment of the Imperial Ottoman Bank, using British and French capital.28 Even though it was foreign-owned with its head office in London, the bank was given the sole right to issue banknotes in the Ottoman Empire. It was also made responsible for providing the Treasury with advances and for the interest and principal payments on the state’s debts. In 1875 an imperial edict increased the bank’s powers, making it the empire’s treasurer with the ability to control the state

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budget. In practice, the Imperial Ottoman Bank continued to fulfill the functions of a central bank until the Republican era.

The First Ottoman Constitution In 1865 a group of six young Ottoman intellectuals, several of them former employees of the Translation Bureau, formed a secret society called the İttifak-ı Hamiyyet, or “Patriotic Alliance.” They appear to have taken as their model the nationalist secret societies, such as the Italian Carbonari, of early nineteenth-century Europe.29 But they were more a collection of like-minded individuals than a tightly knit group bound together by a coherent ideology or clearly defined policy manifesto. By 1867, the organization had grown to around 200 members and sympathizers. However, its leaders’ outspoken criticism of the authorities in the fledgling Ottoman press had resulted in most of them being forced into exile in Paris and in London, where they became referred to as the Yeni Osmanlılar, or “New Ottomans”; although they have traditionally been better known in English as the Young Ottomans. Differences and divisions had appeared almost as soon as the İttifak-ı Hamiyyet was founded. However, the Young Ottomans were united in their opposition to what they regarded as the empire’s supine submission to the demands of the Western powers, the opening of its economy to foreign penetration and the despotism of a coterie of reformist bureaucrats, particularly Ali Pasha and Fuad Pasha, who virtually monopolized the highest offices of the state between 1855 and 1871. The Young Ottomans advocated what was effectively a homogenous proto– nation state, similar to those which were beginning to emerge in Europe; but with Islam rather than ethnicity as the primary unifying factor. Most envisaged a nizamı serbestane, or “liberal regime,” based on a kanûn-u esasî, or constitution (literally, “fundamental law”), inspired by the Shari’a and with some form of representative assembly or parliament. However, there were disagreements over the contents of the constitution, the precise role of the sultan and the methods that should be used to establish the new regime. One of the most influential of the Young Ottomans was the poet, playwright, and journalist Namık Kemal (1840–88). Kemal foresaw the creation of a vatan or “fatherland,” which was defined by the geographical borders of the empire and the shared historical experience of those who lived within them. All of the empire’s population would be represented in a single elected assembly; and the vertical social hierarchy of Muslims and non-Muslims replaced by a horizontal system in which different religious communities retained their separate identities in parallel. However, Kemal maintained that Islam must still constitute the foundation of the state and the Shari’a the basis of its laws and constitution. In later years, as more non-Muslims gained their independence, Kemal increasingly emphasized Islam as a force for patriotic and social cohesion. Although he supported the retention of the sultan as both head of state and caliph, he cited verses from the Qur’an,30 hadiths, and the example of the consultative assemblies in the early Muslim community in an attempt to prove that Islam was inherently


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democratic rather than autocratic; distinguishing between a ruler who, in the Arabic phrase, was sahib al-mulk, meaning “charged with kingship,” and one who was malik al-mulk, meaning “owner of kingship”—a title which the Qur’an reserves for God.31 Kemal argued that ultimate sovereignty could belong only to God and that divine approval of political leadership was expressed through the popular will rather than the mere exercise of power. Kemal described the relationship between ruler and ruled in terms of a contract in which the community of Muslims delegated the administration of their polity to a leader, who in turn was obliged to rule justly according to Islamic principles. Other Young Ottomans took a more reverential attitude towards the sultan. For example, the poet and bureaucrat Ziya Pasha (1825–80) insisted that neither a constitution nor a representative assembly should infringe on the rights of the monarch. Although he was often cited by Kemal as the intellectual mentor of the Young Ottomans, the poet and journalist İbrahim Şinasi Efendi (1826–71) differed from most of the other members of the group in asserting that a state could be based on human rather than divinely revealed law. While Ali Suavi (1839–78), a journalist and former Muslim preacher whose often eccentric behavior and ideas eventually led to him being alienated from the other Young Ottomans, claimed that democracy could only flourish in a society characterized by strict sexual morality.32 He was prepared to countenance the use of violence to establish his ideal state and was killed in 1878 while trying to stage a coup d’état. Following the deaths of Fuad Pasha in 1869 and Ali Pasha in 1871, the Young Ottoman leaders began to return from exile to Constantinople. However, it soon became clear that, as well as opposing the ideas of the Young Ottomans, Fuad Pasha and Ali Pasha had also served as a bulwark against the autocratic tendencies of the sultan. With no one in the bureaucracy strong enough to resist him, Sultan Abdülaziz became increasingly assertive. The repercussions of Abdülaziz’s increasingly autocratic rule were exacerbated by flood, droughts and famine in Anatolia in 1873 and 1874 and by the 1873 crash on the international stock exchanges. In 1875 the Ottoman Empire defaulted on its international debt. The economic devastation in Anatolia meant that the burden of meeting the empire’s need for revenue fell primarily on its Balkan provinces. The increased pressure ignited long-running resentments among the Christian peasantry of Bosnia and Herzegovina, who rose in revolt. They were followed in early 1876 by the Christian peasants of Bulgaria. The civilian massacres that accompanied the suppression of the rebellions triggered a wave of outrage in Europe, where public opinion conveniently overlooked the large-scale slaughter of Muslims by the Christian rebels.33 As the turmoil in the Ottoman Empire’s western provinces continued, on 30 May 1876 the Ottoman capital was shaken by a coup d’état as a group of leading politicians deposed Sultan Abdülaziz and replaced him with his nephew, who became Sultan Murat V (1840–1904). A week later, on 5 June 1876, Sultan Abdülaziz committed suicide. Prior to the coup, Murat had appeared sympathetic to the ideas of the Young Ottomans and had frequently spoken of the need for a constitution. Following his accession both Kemal and Ziya Pasha were appointed palace secretaries. However,

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within a few months Murat suffered a nervous breakdown. On 1 September 1876 he was deposed and lived out the rest of his life in seclusion in the Çırağan Palace on the shore of the Bosphorus. He was replaced by his thirty-four-year-old younger brother, who became Sultan Abdülhamit II (reigned 1876–1909). As Russia began to threaten war unless the Ottomans granted autonomy to the rebellious Bulgarians, Britain proposed an international conference in Constantinople to try to defuse the crisis. When the conference met on 23 December 1876, the Ottoman delegation announced that questions regarding non-Muslims were now irrelevant as the empire had earlier that day promulgated a constitution which guaranteed all Ottoman citizens equal rights. It refused to listen to any further proposals, and the conference collapsed. As had been the case with both the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi and the Hatt-i Hümayun, the announcement of the constitution had clearly been timed to try to appease the European powers. However, the document itself had been drawn up by a committee headed by Mithat Pasha (1822–84), the most influential bureaucrat of the time, and including members of the ulema and non-clerical members of the Greek Orthodox and Armenian communities. Committee meetings had been dominated by discussions about whether the constitution’s proposed provisions were compatible with Islam; with proponents and opponents exchanging truncated, and often irrelevant, quotations from the Qur’an to prove their point.34 No copies of the original draft have survived, although contemporary reports make it clear that the constitution underwent significant amendments before being officially promulgated. The final text guaranteed the rights of non-Muslims to practice their religion, provided that “public order and morality are not interfered with.”35 But it reaffirmed Islam as the state’s official religion under the protection of the sultan, whose person was declared sacred. The constitution provided for an elected assembly but concentrated supreme legislative and administrative power in the hands of the sultan, who retained the right to rule by imperial decree and prorogue the assembly at will. The promulgation of the constitution was followed by elections to the new constituent assembly, comprising 130 members chosen by provincial and county councils. But, even before the new assembly met, Abdülhamit had already moved against the constitution’s most outspoken proponents. Mithat Pasha was sent into exile in February 1877.36 Namik Kemal and Ziya Pasha followed soon afterwards. The first Ottoman parliament was officially opened on 19 March 1877. It appears to have generated little popular enthusiasm.37 Indeed, given the limited communications and very low levels of literacy in the empire at the time, it is likely that a substantial proportion of the population was not even aware of its existence. Nor did the constitution appease Russia, which declared war in April 1877. The new assembly included Greek Orthodox, Armenian, and Jewish members as well as Muslims. But the concentration of so much power in the hands of the sultan meant that it served as little more than a forum for debate, albeit including often candid discussions of the performance of the government—not least its handling of the war with Russia. This proved too much for Abdülhamit. On 14 February 1878, after just two sessions and with the Russian army on the outskirts of Constantinople, he suspended both parliament and the constitution.


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On 3 March 1878, the Ottomans signed what became known as the Treaty of San Stefano, which stripped the empire of a large proportion of its European provinces and made substantial territorial concessions to Russia in eastern Anatolia. Alarmed by the growth in Russian power, Austria and Britain forced Russia to return to the negotiating table at an international congress in Berlin. The Treaty of Berlin, which was signed on 13 July 1878, reduced the territorial concessions of San Stefano but still left Russia with territorial acquisitions in eastern Anatolia, while granting Romania, Serbia, and Montenegro their independence and Bulgaria its autonomy. No attempt was made to force Abdülhamit to restore the constitution and for the next 30 years he ruled as an absolute monarch.

Absolutism and Islamic Instrumentalization Abdülhamit’s suspension of parliament marked the end of efforts to rejuvenate the Ottoman Empire through legislative reform. Between 1869 and 1876, Ahmet Cevdet’s commission had published a total of 16 volumes of the Mecelle, comprising 1,851 articles. But Sultan Abdülhamit’s accession had strengthened the conservative opposition and put a halt to the publication of any new volumes. The commission became moribund and was finally dissolved in 1888. Despite the number of articles enacted, during the seven years of its active life the Mecelle had only succeeded in codifying the transactions section of the Shari’a, leaving its provisions on marriage, inheritance, and the family untouched. Abdülhamit’s autocratic and often brutally repressive conservatism has led many Turkish secularists to regard his reign as a period of obscurantist stagnation. This is misleading. Whether they regarded it as an impediment to be circumvented or as a stabilizing foundation for the state, Ottoman reformists had tended to treat Islam as if it was politically inert. In contrast, Abdülhamit aggressively instrumentalized Islam in an attempt to create a political powerbase based on his spiritual authority as caliph; not only using faith to hold together an empire won by the sword but, in a form of spiritual imperialism, claiming authority over all the Muslims in the world in what came to be known as pan-Islamism.38 Inside the empire, Young Ottoman notions of the community of believers delegating administration of the polity to a temporal ruler were jettisoned in favor of a more direct relationship between God and the caliph, in which it was God who was effectively delegating power to the caliph as His “shadow on Earth.” As a result, the perceived link between God and the temporal world also became more personalized, and Islam was used not only to unite Muslims but to bind them both to the Ottoman state and to the sultan himself There is little doubt that Abdülhamit’s pan-Islamism carried a greater resonance for the Muslim masses inside the Ottoman Empire than the ideas of the Young Ottomans, which remained the preserve of the empire’s tiny literate elite. Indeed, Abdülhamit appears deliberately to have set out to create a popular powerbase rather than to court the support of the intelligentsia. In place of the Young Ottomans’ complex intellectual arguments couched in terminology and philosophical constructs borrowed from Western Europe, Abdülhamit preferred the simple

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certainties of Muslim supremacism and a theocratic absolutism based on his own position as God’s representative on Earth. His official propaganda made extensive use of the imagery, motifs, and rituals of piety and divine sanction; cultivating a mystique that was enhanced by his virtual seclusion inside the new imperial palace of Yıldız on the shores of the Bosphorus, from which he rarely emerged except to attend Friday prayers. Unlike his predecessors, Abdülhamit also banned portraits and public depictions of himself in favor of his tuğra or monogram. Domestically, Abdülhamit’s Islamist policies undoubtedly made demographic sense. Even though it had reduced the territorial concessions of San Stefano, the Treaty of Berlin had resulted in the loss of around one third of the Ottoman Empire’s territory and 20 percent of its population, the majority of them Slavic Christians.39 Almost 75 percent of the sultan’s subjects were now Muslim, which was almost certainly the highest proportion since the birth of the Ottoman dynasty. In addition, rather than being concentrated in specific geographical areas, most of the empire’s remaining non-Muslims—mainly Greek Orthodox and Armenian Christians, together with some urban Jewish communities—were scattered in clusters among a predominantly Muslim population in the empire’s heartland of Anatolia; thus reducing the risk of a non-Muslim region being able to break away from central control but increasing the danger of inter-communal tensions and violence. Abdülhamit realized that the key to creating a domestic Islamist powerbase lay in forging closer links not so much with the ulema but with the tariqah; particularly those whose exoteric teachings were closest to orthodox Sunni theology, such as the Naqshbandi order. The tariqah have made a relatively small impression on documentary and archival sources. Yet there seems little doubt that in the late nineteenth century they played an important—and, compared with the ulema, probably pre-eminent—role in the religious lives of the Ottoman masses, particularly outside the main urban areas. During Abdülhamit’s reign the tariqah appear to have flourished both relative to the ulema and in absolute terms, attracting more members and increasing the number of their lodges. Abdülhamit also used the tariqah as conduits for the dissemination of official propaganda. In 1876 he appointed Sheikh Abul Huda al-Sayyadi of the Rifāīyah40 order as the nominal head of all the tariqah sheikhs. Sheikh Abul Huda published a total of 212 books and booklets, almost all of which were devoted to defending Abdülhamit’s absolute authority as the legitimate caliph of all Muslims.41 Sheikh Hamza Zafir al-Madānī, a sheikh in the Shādhilīyah42 order, concentrated on propaganda and proselytizing in North Africa, much of which was now under French and British control. His main work, An-Nur As-Satī, or “The Brilliant Light,” was published in Constantinople in 1884 and provided the ideological foundation for much of the pan-Islamic movement.43 In addition, Abdülhamit used tariqah sheikhs to try to strengthen ties between the Ottoman center and restive Muslim communities in the provinces. He also invested heavily in laying telegraph lines and developed the empire’s rail network, including laying a line from Damascus to Medina; both to make it easier for pilgrims to perform the hajj and to attempt to tighten the traditionally loose central control over the Hijaz.


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In Constantinople there was a shift in the balance of bureaucratic power from the Porte back to the imperial palace. The palace secretariat played a vital role in Abdülhamit’s strategy of combining tighter administrative control with the regulation—and integration into official ideology—of intellectual and spiritual discourses; including communal worship, religious instruction, and even the publication of sacred texts. Abdülhamit’s ministers drew up regulations for publishers of the Qur’an and distributed guidelines for the teaching of religion in schools and for the sermons delivered in mosques. Abdülhamit also established an extensive network of secret police agents and informers. Although his reign witnessed a significant increase in the publication of both books and periodicals,44 censorship was so strict that both political debate and coverage of current affairs was virtually impossible. The result was to push dissent not only underground but often also to the geographical margins of the empire, where central control was less rigorous than in the capital. Abdülhamit was the first Ottoman ruler to understand the full potential of the education system as a means of inculcating obedience to the political center. An ambitious reform program had been put forward in 1869 which foresaw the creation of a three-tier system for elementary school graduates, comprising: the rüşdiye schools, secondary idâdî schools, and sultânî colleges. During Abdülhamit’s reign the number of rüşdiye schools in the Ottoman Empire rose from 423 to 619. While the number of idâdî schools grew from around six in 1876 to 57 in 1894 and 106 in 1906, of which 93 were in the provinces.45 Only two sultânî schools were opened, both of them in Constantinople. There was also an increase in the number of professional and vocational schools, although it was not until 1900 that the first Ottoman university, the Dar’ul-fununi Osmani, or the “Ottoman House of Sciences,” was opened in Constantinople. In 1870 a new system of elementary schools known as ibtidâî had been inaugurated to run in parallel to the elementary schools operated by the ulema. During Abdülhamit’s reign the number of ibtidâî schools in the empire increased from around 200 to approximately 4,000.46 However, as with virtually all other Ottoman educational institutions, the difference between the ibtidâî and the schools run by the ulema was not between secular and non-secular education but in the proportion of the curriculum devoted to religious subjects. In practice, the ulema also provided many of the teachers who worked in the ibtidâî schools, which now became strategic assets in what the Ottoman state saw as the ideological struggle being waged within the empire’s borders. Many of the new ibtidâî schools were deliberately located in areas where there were large concentrations of non-Muslims or where foreign missionary schools were particularly active. Schools were even used as part of a concerted campaign—rare in the Ottoman Empire—to force the Yezidis47 in southeast Anatolia and what is now northern Iraq to convert to Islam.48 Documents in the Ottoman archives leave no doubt that religious instruction was in itself seen as a means of inculcating political loyalty.49 During the final years of the nineteenth century, additional hours of religious instruction were introduced throughout the education system, including in tertiary institutions such as the Imperial Civil Service School and the schools of medicine and engineering. Particular attention was paid to military schools. The Ottoman archives contain several

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reassurances that soldiers were having “the approved religious texts read to them at regular intervals.” While the Ministry for Military Schools warned that: “The survival of the Sublime State depends on the preservation of the Islamic faith.”50 The securitization of education also extended to schools run by non-Muslims. Since 1858 all non-Muslim schools had been required to apply for a license from the authorities and conform with the regulations published by the Ottoman Ministry of Education. In 1869 their curricula became subject to inspection. These inspections were tightened in 1880, and in 1887 a special inspectorate was established to monitor non-Muslim and foreign schools. Such efforts were symptoms not only of Abdülhamit’s centralizing tendencies but also of a broader growing distrust of non-Muslims, who were increasingly identified with foreign powers and who, regardless of the absence of any formal agreement, tended to look to the countries of Europe for protection. Muslim pride had been further eroded by the growing economic influence of the foreign powers. The Ottoman Public Debt Administration (OPDA) was established in 1881. Although it remained under Ottoman political control, the OPDA was managed by Europeans and diverted a proportion of Ottoman state revenues to the empire’s European creditors. It also secured fresh loans and served as an intermediary for European companies looking for investment opportunities in the empire, particularly in infrastructure and public utilities. By the early twentieth century, virtually all the railroads, ports, and public utilities in the Ottoman Empire had been financed by foreign capital. Foreign economic enterprises tended to employ a disproportionately high number of non-Muslims, who also accounted for a disproportionately large proportion of the Ottoman mercantile class. Although there were exceptions, Muslims who were able to pursue a professional career tended to opt for the bureaucracy, the ulema, or the military rather than commerce. Many non-Muslims were also often able to use their connections with European countries to obtain what amounted to extraterritorial status. For example, the Ottoman authorities issued a diploma known as a berat to dragomans and their families, which granted them the legal status of subjects of their employer’s nation. This provided them not only with material benefits such as the tax exemptions afforded by the Capitulations but, more importantly, the protection of a European power. The berat system was also a source of revenue for the Ottoman state, which charged a substantial fee for each one issued. As a result, both non-Muslims and the Ottoman authorities had an interest in the abuse of the system. Between the late eighteenth century and the middle of the nineteenth century, the number of Christian and Jewish Ottoman subjects with a berat grew from a few thousand to several hundred thousand. Even though they still formed only a minority of the total non-Muslim Ottoman population, they were nevertheless a very visible—and often very wealthy—minority. There were also times when the behavior of less privileged members of the nonMuslim minorities can have done little to moderate growing Muslim resentment. In 1866, Namık Kemal wrote an article complaining about Greeks in Constantinople cafés singing songs that took as their main theme the extermination of Turks.51 During the Greco-Turkish War of 1897,52 Orthodox inhabitants of Constantinople


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openly left the city to fight on the Greek side and just as openly returned once the war was over, without suffering any retribution. However, away from the capital, communal tensions increasingly resulted in violence; particularly in areas where there were strong separatist sentiments. On several occasions during the mid-nineteenth century, friction between Christians and the Druze53 in Lebanon escalated into civil war, sometimes drawing in both local Muslims and the European powers. But the most vicious clashes occurred in the Balkans, where rebellions by non-Muslims against Ottoman rule were frequently accompanied by civilian massacres by both sides. However, during the 1890s, international attention became focused on reports of widespread massacres of Christians in eastern Anatolia. Although there were large Greek Orthodox populations in the eastern Black Sea region, the majority of Christians in eastern and southeastern Anatolia were Armenian. Most lived on the land in a patchwork of villages and hamlets—some exclusively Armenian, others mixed—scattered throughout a predominantly Muslim population.54 The majority of the Muslims in eastern and southeastern Anatolia were Kurds, although there were also a large number of Turkish-speakers, including communities of Muslim refugees who had been resettled in the area after fleeing persecution; particularly at the hands of Christians in the Caucasus. Eastern and southeastern Anatolia had always been plagued by banditry. The ban throughout most of Ottoman history on non-Muslims bearing arms made the Christian Armenians particularly vulnerable. In addition to having to pay the jizya tax, most Armenians traditionally paid what amounted to protection money to local Kurdish chieftains. During the late nineteenth century, especially after the promulgation of the Hatt-i Hümayun, many Armenians ceased buying protection from local Kurds and began demanding that the Ottoman government provide them with both security and equality. More significantly, Armenian nationalists, particularly among the growing Armenian Diaspora in Europe, began publishing lurid tales of the sufferings of rural Armenians in eastern Anatolia and lobbying European governments to intercede with the sultan on their behalf; some of the stories were true, some exaggerated, and some simply invented. In 1887, some Russian Armenian students in Geneva established a left-wing organization which was committed to creating an independent Armenian state and was called the Social Democrat Hunchakian Party, although it became better known as simply the Hunchak Party.55 In 1891, another group of Armenian exiles based in Russia and eastern Europe formed an organization called the Armenian Revolutionary Federation—Dashnaktsutyun or Dashnaks—in Tbilisi. In the same year, Abdülhamit raised what became known as the hamidiye regiments in eastern Anatolia, comprising Kurdish irregulars who were ostensibly responsible for maintaining law and order. A rise in reports of massacres and raids by Kurds was accompanied by agitation by Hunchak militants amongst the local population and insurrections in Marsovan (the modern Merzifon), Tokat, and—most seriously—Sassun (the modern Sason) in August 1894. It is impossible to gauge accurately the level of sympathy for the Hunchaks, but there is no doubt that, at most, only a tiny proportion of the local Armenian population actively participated in the insurrections. Nevertheless, the

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suppression of the insurrections was followed in 1894–96 by widespread massacres of the local Armenian population, mainly by the hamidiye regiments. No reliable figures are available, but the final death toll is believed to have been at least 30,000 and may have been considerably higher. On 26 August 1896, twenty-four Dashnaks stormed the headquarters of the Ottoman Bank in Constantinople, taking around 140 people inside hostage and demanding administrative reforms in eastern Anatolia, including the appointment of a European High Commissioner to oversee the Ottoman provinces. A two-hour firefight between the Dashnaks inside the bank and Ottoman security forces was followed by negotiations, which concluded with the surviving Dashnaks being given safe passage out of the country on the morning of the following day.56 Almost as soon as the bank was seized, mobs of Muslims launched a pogrom against Armenians in Constantinople. It was 36 hours before the Ottoman authorities even attempted to restore order; by which time over 5,000 Armenians had been killed. The extent to which the Ottoman authorities were complicit in, or even instigated, the massacres in Anatolia and Constantinople remains the subject of intense debate. There are numerous eyewitness accounts of local Ottoman officials either inciting or ignoring the massacres, but the Ottoman archives also include correspondence from government officials in eastern Anatolia who advocated the execution of some of the Kurds responsible for the killings.57 The massacres were undoubtedly partly the product of the sense of being under ideological siege that characterizes Abdülhamit’s reign and which had been aggravated by an upsurge in Christian missionary activity in the empire during the late nineteenth century, particularly by American Protestants in Anatolia.58 In theory, the missionaries were only allowed to proselytize amongst non-Muslims, although they often formed close links with Alevi communities in areas such as Dersim (the modern province of Tunceli). However, many Ottoman Muslims feared that missionary activity in eastern Anatolia could result in large-scale conversions from Islam to Christianity. These fears were given an added edge by the realization that several ostensibly Muslim communities were actually “crypto-Christians.” Most were concentrated in rural areas of the eastern Black Sea region and had publicly converted en masse many years earlier to avoid persecution, only to continue to worship as Christians in secret. Emboldened by the promise of freedom from religious discrimination in the Hatt-i Hümayun, they had once again begun to practice their beliefs openly; to the bewilderment of some Ottoman officials and the fury of others. The governor of Ankara described one such community as being “like a wound oozing puss into the healthy flesh of the Muslim population.”59 Foreign missionary activity caused almost as much alarm among the leaders of the Orthodox and Armenian religious communities as it did in the Ottoman government. Many poorer non-Muslims had long resented what they saw as their exploitation both by wealthier members of their communities and by the ecclesiastical authorities. Simony was rife, particularly in the Greek Orthodox Church, and priests often attempted to recoup the expense of purchasing their offices through the church tithes levied on the impoverished Christian peasantry.60 The fear of mass defections to Protestantism also appears to have been a factor in the rapid increase in Armenian and Greek Orthodox schools, many of them


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largely staffed by priests.61 Although they still only catered for a small proportion of the total non-Muslim population, these schools nevertheless played an important role in the spread of a nationalist, rather than just a religious, consciousness; not least through the teaching of the Greek and Armenian languages to supplement the Turkish that many non-Muslims had long used in everyday life. However, the education system was to play an even more critical role in the development of Muslim nationalism. Ironically, given that they had been established to try to strengthen the empire, it was the new state-run vocational schools that were to spawn the Muslim movement which first marginalized the sultanate and ultimately abolished the Ottoman state itself.

The Young Turks What has come to be known in English as the movement of the Young Turks had its origins in the İttihad-i Osmani Cemiyeti (Ottoman Unity Society or İOC), which was formed in 1889 by a handful of students at the Ottoman military medical school. Many of the details of the early history of the İOC remain unclear. However, its primary aim appears to have been the restoration of the parliament and constitution of 1876. The İOC soon attracted dissidents from other colleges and from within the Ottoman bureaucracy. It also established links with Ottoman dissidents in exile in Paris, particularly a small émigré organization called İttihat ve Terakki Cemiyeti (Committee for Union and Progress or İTC). The İTC’s most influential member was Ahmet Rıza (1859–1930), a Francophone graduate of the Translation Bureau and former Ottoman bureaucrat who had fled to Paris in 1889. At some point during the 1890s, the İOC and the İTC appear to have merged under the latter’s name, although in Paris they frequently referred to themselves as Jeunes Turcs, or “Young Turks.” By 1896, the İTC leaders inside the Ottoman Empire seem to have believed that they were strong enough to stage a coup. But the plot was easily thwarted by Abdülhamit’s ubiquitous secret police and all the conspirators arrested and sent into exile. The failed coup attempt resulted not only in the main focus of opposition to Abdülhamit moving to Europe but also in a shift of power within the İTC, enabling Ahmet Rıza to become increasingly influential. Nevertheless, for most of its existence, the İTC was not so much a cohesive organization united around a clearly articulated set of political goals as an umbrella for dissidents opposed to Abdülhamit’s absolutism. Ideologically, the İTC was in a state of constant flux. Different trends of thought ran in parallel, rising and falling in prominence in line with the fluctuating influence of the different factions and individuals who espoused them; and yet even these trends of thought were in a constant state of evolution. The situation was further complicated by a reluctance on the part of several leading Young Turks to be completely candid about their ideological beliefs for fear of alienating the wider support they needed in order to seize and retain power. Many of the early leaders of the İTC were materialists and had been heavily influenced by the writings of the French positivist Auguste Comte (1798–1857). Comte argued that religion and metaphysics were merely preliminary stages in

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human development and were ultimately superseded by progress through science; hence Ahmet Rıza’s decision to include the word progress in the İTC’s name. Privately, Ahmet Rıza was often scathing about Islam.62 But in public he was considerably more circumspect, avoiding detailed expositions of materialism and using terms and phraseology redolent of Islamic piety. For example, the title of the journal he published in Paris was Meşveret, a learned word of Arabic origin usually associated with Islamic theology and meaning “consultation.” Nor did İTC publications have any hesitation in instrumentalizing Islam for propaganda purposes. For example, the İTC anthem condemned Abdülhamit as an “atheist” and in 1896 the İTC published a series of fatwas against absolutism issued by different sheikhulislams. In the short-term, many in the İTC were also prepared to cooperate with the tariqah. Abdülhamit’s cultivation of the most orthodox orders had further alienated the more heterodox tariqah; some of which, most notably the Bektashi, were in contact with the İTC. There is even evidence to suggest that members of some of the Mevlevi lodges in Constantinople were involved in the failed coup attempt in 1896. But some of the Young Turks were prepared to be more candid. In 1896 Abdullah Cevdet (1869–1932), one of the founders of the İOC, wrote: “Science is the religion of the elites, while religion is the science of the masses.”63 He argued that positivist materialism should be “stitched onto an Islamic jacket”64 in order to make it palatable to the bulk of the population. Later in his career Abdullah Cevdet publicly advocated conversion to Bahaism because he saw it as a stepping stone between Islam and materialism.65 Some of the Young Turks referred to concepts such as identity and patriotism in terms which were devoid of any obvious ethnic and religious connotations, such as Ottomanist and Ottomanism. But the concept of Ottomanism always made better sound than sense; and, in practice, the term often seems more like shorthand for a proto-nationalist identity based on Islam. Certainly, most of the members of the İTC appear to have regarded those for whom Islam was the primary determinant of their collective identity as the foundation on which they would build their idealized society; even if they believed that religion would eventually wither away in the face of scientific progress. Nevertheless, when the İTC decided to hold a Congress of Ottoman Opposition in Paris in 1902, it invited delegates from Christian opposition organizations; mostly Armenian groups, although some Greek Orthodox dissidents also attended. But there was no attempt to integrate these organizations into the İTC.66 Even if they were not all personally devout, the membership of the İTC continued to be drawn almost exclusively from Muslim communities. However, by the late 1890s, concepts of the defining characteristics of the foundation of the Young Turks’ idealized society had gradually begun to shift; not outwards to embrace non-Muslims but inwards towards the fragmentation of the Muslim community along ethnic lines. Many of the Young Turks were attracted by the supposed scientific basis of the trend in late nineteenth century nationalism away from cultural attributes such as language and religion and towards biology and race; particularly when they were combined with now-discredited theories


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such as social Darwinism, in which different “races” are not only regarded as different and discrete but are stratified into a hierarchy. As early as 1896, an article in Meşveret noted that, although the Ottoman Empire comprised a number of different nationalities, it was natural that the Turks would dominate and rule.67 Within a few years, advocates of Turkish nationalism had become more outspoken. Tunalı Hilmi (1871–1928) not only asserted the superiority of the Turks but suggested that members of other ethnic groups owed them a debt of gratitude, declaring: “It was the destiny of the Turk that he would conquer and govern this country. Yet the burdens of administration and the military commitments eroded the Turkishness of the Turk. It could even be said that in the past the Turk destroyed himself while reviving those people whom he discovered on the point of death in [the empire’s] provinces.”68 Not surprisingly, such attitudes antagonized the non-Turks in the İTC. Increasingly, Albanian, Kurdish, and Arab Muslims started to develop a sense of a distinct national identity. Abdullah Cevdet, who was an ethnic Kurd, published articles in the journal Kurdistan. İbrahim Temo (1865–1939), who was an ethnic Albanian, worked closely with committees which had been formed to lobby for Albanian autonomy. Although they were usually publicly circumspect about their feelings towards Turks, in private they could be more outspoken. In a letter to İshak Sükûti (1868–1902), an ethnic Kurd and fellow founder of the İOC, İbrahim Temo wrote simply: “I hate Turks.”69 The 1902 Paris Congress marked a turning point in the balance of power within the İTC between Turks and non-Turks. In the years that followed there were still differences of opinion with the İTC, and continuing contacts with non-Muslim dissident groups over possible cooperation to oust Abdülhamit, but the organization gradually became dominated by Turkish nationalists. There was even a shift even in the rhetoric of some of the former Ottomanists. For example, Ahmet Rıza began to use the terms Turkish and Turkishness to replace Ottomanist and Ottomanism. In 1904, Yusuf Akçura (c.1876–1935), who had been born into a Muslim Turkish-speaking family in the Russian Caucasus, published a book called Üç Tarz-ı Siyaset (Three Kinds of Policy), in which he argued that ethnicity was the only viable foundation for a modern state.70 Although it was to be several years before the idea gained widespread acceptance in the Young Turk movement, Akçura advocated a form of expansionist racial nationalism in which ethnic Turks living beyond the Ottoman Empire’s borders, primarily in the Caucasus and Central Asia, would be incorporated into a single pan-Turkic state. The Young Turks’ opposition to Abdülhamit’s absolutism has often led to them being labeled as liberals. This is misleading. In reality, they were oligarchs rather than democrats. Their ideal state would have had a strong central government and be run by a small, educated elite. Few Young Turks favored allowing the masses any role in policy-making or administration.71 As a result, there was little attempt at grassroots mobilization.72 But the image of an oligarchic elite rescuing and regenerating the empire did resonate with a new generation in the one institution which possessed the raw power to instigate radical change: namely, the Ottoman military.

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Despite his often aggressive promotion of Islam, Abdülhamit had not hesitated to turn to non-Muslims to improve the military capabilities of the Ottoman army. In 1883 Abdülhamit appointed the German General Colmar Freiherr von der Goltz (1843–1916) to oversee military training. Over the next 12 years, von der Goltz’s attempts to modernize the Ottoman army along German lines considerably improved military standards. Many young officers were also strongly influenced by von der Goltz’s 1883 treatise on modern military systems and the conduct of war entitled Das Volk in Waffen (The Nation in Arms), which had been translated into Turkish by the Ottoman War Office in 1884 and recommended to all military cadets. In Das Volk in Waffen, von der Goltz argued that the “internal power” of “national egotism” was a prerequisite for success in modern warfare. He advocated the establishment of a strong central government and called on the military to play an active role in reshaping society. It is difficult to gauge the extent of dissident activity amongst military cadets and young serving officers during the 1890s. But, by the early years of the twentieth century, there appear to have been a number of clandestine organizations in the military committed to transforming the ailing empire into a vigorous, modern state. Most have left few traces in the historical record, and what little is known about them is the result more of their members’ subsequent careers than their importance at the time.73 It was through one of these organizations that a group of military officers came to assume control first of the İTC network and ultimately of the Ottoman state. The Osmanlı Hürriyet Cemiyeti (Ottoman Freedom Society or OHC) was established in Salonica in September 1906. Its founders included a postal clerk from Edirne called Mehmet Talat (1874–1921), who later became known in the West as Talat Pasha. Talat’s forceful personality and talent for organization soon enabled him to become the dominant figure in the OHC as it expanded rapidly amongst local bureaucrats and—most critically—officers of the Ottoman Third and Second Armies, which were based in Macedonia and Thrace respectively. Its new members included two staff officers from the Third Army who, together with Talat, were to form the triumvirate which ruled the Ottoman Empire during its final years, namely: İsmail Enver (1881–1922) and Ahmet Cemal (1872–1922), who later became better known as Enver Pasha and Cemal Pasha respectively. In March 1907, Talat established contact with the İTC leadership in Paris. In September 1907, the two organizations merged under the İTC name, although in practice it soon became apparent that the merger was more of a takeover by the OHC leadership. Over the months that followed, the balance of power within the İTC swung increasingly away from the émigré intellectuals towards Talat and his co-conspirators in the Ottoman military in and around the city of Salonica.74 Although some of the émigré intellectuals continued to pay lip-service to the concept of the equality of all religions, on the ground in Macedonia İTC activists vigorously courted Islamic sentiments. They promised that, once in power, they would prevent Western European penetration, curb the activities of local Christian bandits, and restore law and order by reversing the reforms of the Tanzimat and imposing Shari’a law in its entirety.75


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Apparently buoyed by its growing strength, on 13 May 1908 the İTC issued Abdülhamit with a public ultimatum, warning of bloodshed if the 1876 constitution was not restored. Macedonia had long been the scene of separatist unrest. In early June 1908 the Russian Tsar Nicholas II (reigned 1894–1917) and the British King Edward VII (reigned 1901–10) met in the Estonian capital of Reval (modern Tallinn) amid speculation that they would attempt to pressure Abdülhamit to make Macedonia a de facto foreign protectorate under Austrian and Russian control. The precise causes of what happened next are unclear, but it seems that a combination of the meeting in Reval, which the Young Turks feared would lead to foreign intervention in Macedonia, and the realization that the local Young Turk network had been penetrated by Abdülhamit’s secret police spurred İTC members serving in the Third Army into action; although what followed appears to have been a chain reaction rather than a pre-planned and centrally coordinated campaign. On 3 July 1908, an ethnic Albanian named Major Ahmet Niyazi76 took to the hills with 200 followers. He left behind a manifesto demanding the restoration of the 1876 constitution. As the insurrection began to spread through Macedonia, troops sent by Abdülhamit from Anatolia refused to fight the insurgents. On 23 July 1908, Abdülhamit decided to cut his losses and restored the constitution. The announcement of the constitution triggered widespread public rejoicing. There are numerous contemporary accounts of Muslims and non-Muslims fraternizing and celebrating together in the streets.77 But there is no evidence that they shared the same expectations, except a vague sense that life would now improve. Nor were the celebrations a reflection of popular support for the İTC. Indeed, the censorship under Abdülhamit’s regime had been so rigorous that most of those celebrating had probably never heard of either the insurrection in Macedonia or the İTC. As a result, Abdülhamit was able to present the restoration as his own act of spontaneous beneficence. The restoration of the constitution took the İTC by surprise. At the time the announcement was made, the İTC had no detailed political program, no popular base, no structured organization except its clandestine network, and no clearly defined leadership. But the success of the insurrection nevertheless cemented the shift in the balance of power within the İTC. Although almost all of the émigré intellectuals eventually returned from abroad, most quickly faded into obscurity.78 When the İTC established a seven-man committee in Constantinople to try to shape government policy from behind the scenes, it was dominated by the military members of the İTC in Macedonia, including Talat, Enver, and Cemal. However, particularly initially, the committee’s control over the state apparatus was far from complete, and officials from the Porte and the Imperial Palace continued to exercise varying degrees of informal influence. On 16 August 1908, the government issued a detailed program promising to implement the constitution’s commitment to full equality of all the empire’s citizens, including abolishing the ban on the conscription of non-Muslims, the tax levied on them in lieu of military service, and the millet system. But no substantive legislative reforms were introduced. Nevertheless, the restoration of the constitution undoubtedly created a sense of a newfound freedom. By the end of August 1908, the authorities had granted

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more than 200 permits for new journals and newspapers. They also relaxed the sumptuary laws which had been introduced by Abdülhamit in 1901 and which had specified the length and thickness of the veil that women were supposed to wear in public. Upper-class Muslim women began to appear on the streets of Constantinople unveiled and dressed in the latest European fashions. But the public euphoria soon abated amid differing, and often conflicting, expectations about what the new era would bring. In the run-up to elections in late fall 1908, the İTC published a manifesto reasserting the equality of all Ottoman citizens without regard to race or religion. Publicly at least, members of the İTC once again began to talk of a supra-religious Ottoman identity. In reality, it was a concept whose appeal rarely extended beyond a handful of members of the tiny Ottoman intelligentsia. Most Muslims still regarded members of other faiths with disdain or suspicion; often with considerable justification when it came to the commitment of non-Muslims to a unitary state. While even those non-Muslims without separatist aspirations frequently appeared to be more concerned with adding privileges to their distinct status than with genuine equality. Many non-Muslims were also concerned that the İTC would introduce economic reforms which would challenge their dominance of the private sector. A large number of non-Muslims had taken foreign citizenship in order to benefit from the advantages offered by the Capitulations and secure the protection of one of the European powers. During the election of October and November 1908, they found themselves disenfranchised because they did not possess the necessary identity documents. The Greek Orthodox Patriarch Joachim III threatened to boycott the election unless the problem was resolved. Eventually, the Orthodox community was offered representation proportional to its population. The elections were a triumph for the İTC. The main Muslim opposition party, the Osmanlı Ahrar Fırkası (Party of Ottoman Liberals or OAF) won just one of the 288 seats in the new parliament. But the assembly did include twenty-six Greek Orthodox deputies, fourteen Armenians, and four Jews; thus providing non-Muslims with an official platform on which to express their views, even if these were often attestations to what separated them from, rather than united them with, Muslims. Most of the Greek Orthodox deputies were outspoken Panhellenists, for whom “Greekness” in the form of the Greek language and baptism into the Greek Orthodox Church remained the overriding criterion for identity; regardless of whether it ultimately culminated in the union of all Greeks within a single political entity.79 They were often scathingly dismissive of any notions of Ottomanism. A Greek Orthodox deputy called Giorgos Boussios is reported to have commented: “I am as Ottoman as the Ottoman Bank.”80 In practice, rather than unifying and strengthening the empire, the Young Turk Revolution of 1908 triggered another hemorrhage of its territory and the further religious homogenization of its population. Within eight months of the restoration of the constitution, the empire had lost more territory than in the previous twentyfive years of Abdülhamit’s absolutism. In early October 1908, Austria-Hungary annexed Bosnia-Herzegovina, the nominally autonomous principality of Bulgaria declared its de iure independence from the Ottoman Empire, and Crete announced


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its union with the Kingdom of Greece; although in each region the sultan was recognized as retaining spiritual authority over the Muslim population. Many devout Muslims still believed that attempts to introduce Westernizing reforms were the cause of the empire’s decline, not the antidote to it. By early spring 1909, although the government had not attempted to challenge the role of Islam in public life, changes such as the relaxation of the sumptuary law of 1901 were perceived as an indication of the direction in which the state was heading. Even though only a tiny minority of Muslim women were appearing unveiled in public, they were—particularly in Constantinople—a highly visible minority. The Young Turks had always regarded parliament more as the highest tier of the bureaucracy than a sovereign body. Even though it dominated parliament, the İTC had not dissolved its seven-man committee. In cooperation with a handful of officials and bureaucrats, it was this committee which continued to exercise ultimate political power. In February 1909, the Grand Vizier Kamil Pasha (1833–1913),81 who was sympathetic to the OAF, was forced from office and replaced by Hüseyin Hilmi (1855–1922), who was closer to the İTC. Following Kamil Pasha’s dismissal, opposition to the İTC’s stranglehold on power moved increasingly to the press and to the streets. There had already been a number of violent demonstrations in October 1908, when madrasa students, lower-ranking members of the ulema, and conservative elements from some of the tariqah had taken to the streets of Constantinople to demand the closure of bars and theaters, the prohibition of photography, and restrictions on the freedom of women. In February 1909, supporters of the Naqshbandi sheikh Dervish Wahdeti, who had already been conducting a vigorous propaganda campaign against the İTC in Volkan (Volcano) newspaper, established the İttihad-i Muhammedi Cemiyeti (Society for Muslim Unity or İMC).82 The İMC’s declared goals included: the protection and promotion of the Shari’a; the spreading of the nur, or “Divine Light,” throughout the empire; the liberation of Muslims all over the world from the tyranny of non-Muslim oppression; and the more widespread application of the Islamic principle of government through consultation83—which, from the İMC’s perspective, meant consultation with the ulema and the pious masses. Volkan actively courted disgruntled members of the military. It described the ulema and the military as the two “exalted classes” of the state, hemmeslek, or “coprofessions,” which were united in protecting and defending Islam and the Shari’a. It called on the military to overthrow the İTC and then withdraw from the political arena to allow the ulema to oversee the running of the Ottoman state.84 Such appeals found a ready audience among many non-İTC members of the military. In the Constantinople-based First Army in particular, there were tensions between the officers who had risen through the ranks, known as alaylı, and mektepli officers who had been trained in the new military schools. Abdülhamit had favored the alaylı and, not surprisingly given their prominence in the plots against him, distrusted the mektepli. He had also ensured that the First Army was paid regularly. But since the restoration of the constitution, many alaylı officers had been demoted or dismissed and the system of promotion from the ranks abolished. Not only did the mektepli officers now exercise political power, but they often tried

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to impose German discipline and training methods, including abolishing breaks at prayer times. On the morning of 13 April 1909,85 disgruntled soldiers,86 İMC activists, lowerranking members of the ulema, and madrasa students took to the streets.87 Chanting pro-Shari’a slogans, they marched to the parliament building in Sultanahmet Square, where they presented the authorities with a list of demands, including the reintroduction of the Shari’a in its entirety and the dismissal of İTC ministers and parliamentary deputies.88 A few hours later, the Grand Vizier Hüseyin Hilmi went to the imperial palace at Yıldız to tender his resignation, which was immediately accepted by Abdülhamit. Many İTC deputies fled the capital, but a depleted parliament convened and acceded to the insurrectionists’ demands. As the insurrectionists celebrated, more than twenty known İTC supporters were hunted down and lynched. The insurrection left an indelible imprint on later generations of Turkish secularists, who have tended to present it as a simple confrontation between the forces of progress and Islamic fundamentalism. However, although religion undoubtedly provided a unifying rallying cry for the soldiers, religious activists, and students who provided the insurrection with its muscle, it also appears to have served as cover for elements opposed to the İTC who were anything but Islamic fundamentalists. For example, the Greek Orthodox newspaper Neologos declared that the day of the insurrection should be “marked with no less splendor than 24 July 1908,” commenting that the mutineers had been inspired by “love of the country and no other sentiment.”89 Although the insurrectionists had seized control of the capital, the provinces remained relatively calm. The main exception was the province of Adana, where civil disturbances degenerated into a pogrom of the local Armenian community that lasted from 14 April to 16 April 1909. The original causes of the violence remain unclear. Official Turkish historiography puts the blame on what it terms a failed Armenian uprising in Adana.90 Armenian sources claim that any violence committed by Armenians was in self-defense in response to attacks by Muslims. Whatever triggered the violence, the numerous eyewitness accounts, photographs, material evidence, and razing of the Armenian quarter of the city of Adana leave no doubt that Armenians accounted for the overwhelming majority of the victims. At least 20,000 Armenians91 are believed to have died in the city of Adana itself and in the surrounding countryside.92 When order had been restored, the local provincial commander, Colonel Cemâl Bey, established a military court to try those responsible for the violence. One Armenian and forty-seven Muslims were hanged. Outside Constantinople, military units remained loyal to the new constitutional regime. Early on the morning of 24 April 1909, what became known as the Hareket Ordusu, or “Action Army,” began to enter Constantinople under the command of General Mahmut Şevket Pasha (1856–1913). It met with little resistance and by late afternoon the insurrectionists had surrendered. Martial law was declared and two courts-martial were established. In the trials that followed, nearly eighty insurrectionists, including around fifty alaylı officers and Dervish Wahdeti, were hanged. The İTC quickly turned the uprising to its political advantage. On 27 April 1909, parliament passed a motion deposing Abdülhamit and sent him into exile


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in Salonica.93 Under intense pressure from Talat, the Sheikhulislam issued a fatwa approving the decision.94 Abdülhamit was replaced by his younger brother, Mehmet Reşat (1844–1918), who became Sultan Mehmet V.95 In the aftermath of the April 1909 insurrection, several members of the İTC joined the Council of Ministers. They included Talat, who was appointed Minister of the Interior. However, in practice, the empire continued to be ruled by the İTC Committee and its allies in parliament. Most of the opposition to the İTC now took place outside the assembly; both publicly, through the formation of new political parties and in the opposition press, and behind the scenes, where a disparate collection of individuals and factions, including serving members of the military, competed for influence. The suppression of the insurrection had established the military as an institution as a political power in its own right. Although young officers were very active in the İTC, other members of the military—particularly in the high command— remained wary of the organization. When he led the Hareket Ordusu into Constantinople, Mahmut Şevket Pasha made it clear that the army had intervened to save the constitution not the İTC. In May 1909, he was named Inspector General of the First, Second, and Third Armies and administrator of martial law, thus making him effectively the most powerful individual in the empire. But he appears to have regarded the military as exercising a guardianship role and made no attempt to assume direct control of the government. In July 1909, parliament finally passed a law making all Ottoman citizens eligible for military service, regardless of religion.96 The leaders of the non-Muslim communities initially tried to ensure that non-Muslims would serve in ethnically and religiously homogenous units officered by their coreligionists. Not surprisingly, given the prevalence of separatist tendencies in the non-Muslim communities, the suggestion was rejected. Privately, İTC leaders were often quite candid about their real attitudes towards non-Muslims. In August 1910, a British intelligence report quoted Talat as telling a closed meeting of the local İTC in Salonica: “You are aware that by the terms of the Constitution equality of Mussulman [Muslim] and Ghiaur [Infidel] was affirmed but you one and all know and feel that this is an unrealizable ideal. The Sheriat [Shari’a], our whole past history and the sentiments of hundreds of thousands of Mussulmans and even the sentiments of the Ghiaurs themselves, who stubbornly resist every attempt to Ottomanize them, present an impenetrable barrier to the establishment of real equality.”97 Talat did not elaborate on what he meant by Ottomanizing, although there is little doubt that the İTC was more interested in using the concept to strengthen central control and counteract centrifugal non-Muslim nationalism than to establish a truly supra-ethnic and supra-religious national identity. Many in the İTC leadership appear to have seen Ottomanism as being virtually a synonym for Turkishness; with Islam and Turkish cultural and ethnic supremacism being regarded as forming parts of a whole, although there were differences of opinion over the relative importance of each. After the insurrection of April 1909, the İTC became increasingly authoritarian. In July 1909, parliament introduced restrictions on freedom of expression by passing

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a Press Law. In August 1909, it passed a new Law of Associations, which outlawed political organizations that bore the names of national groups. The law was used to force the closure of a number of Albanian, Armenian, Bulgarian, Greek, and Kurdish clubs and societies. But, significantly, the Türk Derneği, or “Turkish Association,” which had been founded in December 1908, was allowed to remain open on the disingenuous grounds that the word Türk referred only to a language or culture and had no political connotations; even though the association’s founders included Yusuf Akçura, whose writings had a clear political agenda. But the İTC also ensured that its policies received a gloss of Islamic legitimacy by giving the sheikhulislam a seat in the new Council of Ministers. Nevertheless, the İTC’s growing identification of Turkishness with Muslim Ottomanism alienated the non-Turkish Muslim elites. In 1910, there was a nationalist rebellion by Muslims in Albania. In 1911, in a move reminiscent of the Young Turks’ own origins, a Young Arab Society was established in Paris. Modern Arab nationalists have tended to attribute the rise of Arab nationalism under the Young Turks to a reaction against attempts to “Turkify” the empire’s Arab provinces. In fact, Arab nationalism appears to have arisen as a reaction to the combination of attempted cultural homogenization and political centralization, which were now underpinned by the spread of the telegraph and railroad networks. Until the nineteenth century, in many of the outlying provinces of the empire the Ottoman state had effectively delegated political authority to local tribal chiefs, trading a large measure of de facto autonomy for continued loyalty to the sultan. But the establishment of a parliament brought the periphery into the center in a physical sense through the permanent concentration of representatives of the provinces in a single body in Constantinople. Under Article 18 of the constitution, Turkish was the official language of the Ottoman state and eligibility for public office was dependent on knowledge of Turkish. Article 57 declared that all debates in parliament would be conducted in Turkish. This created problems for the deputies from more isolated provinces, whose knowledge of Turkish was often rudimentary at best.98 The İTC continued Abdülhamit’s policy of expanding access to education. In theory at least, Turkish was compulsory in all elementary schools. The İTC also sought to ensure that Turkish was the medium of instruction in secondary schools, although local languages were often taught as an additional separate subject. Such measures had a greater impact on the small, if growing, educated elite than on the bulk of the population, who remained illiterate. But the same could not be said of a law introduced in 1909. Previously, courts in the predominantly Arabic-speaking provinces had been allowed to hear cases in Arabic. From 1909 onwards, Turkish became compulsory in law courts throughout the empire; thus putting non-Turkish speakers at a considerable disadvantage. Although such cultural homogenization served as an instrument of central political control, it was also undoubtedly increasingly ideologically motivated. In February 1911, Hüseyin Cahid, the editor of the pro-İTC newspaper Tanin, explained that there were more than just practical reasons for teaching Turkish in schools, declaring: “Turkish should also be taught because it is the language of knowledge and civilization.”99


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Such attitudes further antagonized members of the emerging Arab intelligentsia. For Muslim Arabs, the Arabic language always had religious connotations. It was, after all, not only the language of the people chosen to receive the divine revelation but the language of the eternal Qur’an itself. Even if their influence still did not extend beyond a handful of like-minded intellectuals, a number of pan-Turkist organizations had begun to be formed in Constantinople; often with the participation, or least active sympathy, of leading members of the İTC. In addition to the Türk Derneği, in 1910 a literary society called Genç Kalemler, or “Young Pens,” began publishing a journal of the same name which explored linguistic links between Ottoman Turkish and the Turkic languages of Central Asia. In 1911 another Turkist society called Türk Yurdu, or “Turkish Homeland,”100 was established and rapidly became a forum for political discussions involving Turkish nationalists and pan-Turkists.101 It was eventually absorbed into the Türk Ocağı, or “Turkish Hearth,” which was founded in March 1912. From its inception, the Türk Ocağı was closed to non-Turks and propagated an often aggressive Turkish and pan-Turkist agenda.102 However, by late 1911, political opposition to the İTC was focused more on its authoritarianism than its ideological agenda. In the run-up to the general elections of April 1912, the İTC launched a campaign of violence and intimidation against the main opposition Hürriyet ve İtilaf Fırkası (Party of Freedom and Entente or HİF). The campaign succeeded in its immediate goal of securing another huge İTC parliamentary majority, as the HİF won just 15 of the 275 seats in the assembly. But it also galvanized opposition to the İTC in the military high command. On 22 July 1912, a new Council of Ministers, mostly comprising anti-İTC elder statesmen and representatives of the military, took power. The new Council of Ministers lifted martial law, dissolved parliament, and began to persecute leading members of the İTC, forcing many underground or into internal exile. Within months of the new government taking office, the empire was at war. On 2 October 1912, an alliance of Serbia, Montenegro, Greece, and Bulgaria demanded what amounted to the transfer of Macedonia to foreign control.103 When the Ottoman government refused, they launched what has become known as the First Balkan War (1912–13). After a series of crushing defeats, the Ottoman government opened peace negotiations. On 23 January 1913, when it became clear that the government was preparing to accede to the Balkan states’ demands, a group of İTC officers led by Enver staged a coup. In what has become known in Turkish as the Bab-ı Âli Baskını, or the “Raid on the Sublime Porte,” they stormed into a meeting of the Council of Ministers that was being held in Dolmabahçe Palace in Constantinople, shot dead the War Minister Nâzim Pasha, and took the rest of the ministers hostage. As the Balkan states resumed hostilities, a new İTC-dominated Council of Ministers went on the offensive. But it soon had to sue for peace. Under the Treaty of London of 10 June 1913, the Ottoman Empire lost virtually all of its remaining territory in continental Europe except a small area of eastern Thrace.104 Nevertheless, domestically, the İTC was able to tighten its grip on power, cracking down on all opposition, arresting and sometimes even executing its opponents. Real political power was now once again concentrated almost exclusively not in parliament or the Council of Ministers but in the İTC Committee, which was dominated

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by Talat, Enver, and Cemal. However, rather than forming a cohesive triumvirate who cooperated and coordinated their activities, the three appear to have been merely the most influential of the approximately 50 people in the İTC’s inner circle.105 The İTC Committee seems to have taken major decisions collectively. Talat, who was also the Minister of the Interior,106 appears to have been the most powerful of the three; not least because his organizational and networking skills enabled him to broker alliances between the different factions at meetings of the committee. Yet both Enver and Cemal had their own spheres of influence. Enver, as Minister of War, exercised considerable influence in the army, while Cemal became governor of Constantinople and Minister of the Navy. As a result of the Balkan Wars, the Ottoman Empire lost approximately 37 percent of its total territory and 21 percent of its population, most of them Christians. Hundreds of thousands of Muslims arrived in Anatolia, fleeing or expelled from the lost provinces. For many in the İTC, the perception of the empire’s non-Muslim minorities as a potential fifth column had been reinforced by the enthusiastic, and often very public, manner in which they had celebrated Ottoman defeats during the early stages of the First Balkan War. The İTC now began to apply a policy of Milli İktisat, or “National Economy,” in an attempt to create a class of Muslim entrepreneurs to replace the non-Muslims who still dominated the economy. In 1913, the İTC also formed what later came to be known as the Teşkilât-ı Mahsusa, or “Special Organization,” which was used to terrorize Greek and Armenian businesses, particularly along the Aegean coast. By the outbreak of World War I in August 1914, over 100,000 members of the Greek Orthodox community had been forced to leave western Anatolia.107 The businesses they abandoned were given to Muslims. The Milli İktisat policy was just one of a string of initiatives introduced or supported by the İTC in which the epithet milli, or “national,” was attached to the name of newly founded societies, clubs, companies, cooperatives, and periodicals as the organization’s ideologues began to advocate an increasingly explicit fusion of Islam and Turkish nationalism. The most influential was the poet and pamphleteer Ziya Gökalp (1876–1924),108 whose major work Türkleşmek, İslamlaşmak, Muasırlaşmak (Turkification, Islamicization, Modernization), was serialized in Turk Yurdu in spring 1913. Gökalp claimed that it was possible to reconcile the trilemma discussed in Yusuf Akçura’s Üç Tarz-ı Siyaset by synthesizing Islam, Turkish ethnicity, and the Ottoman heritage within a secular state. Gökalp was dismissive of concepts such as pan-Islamism, arguing that the nation was the natural social and political unit. However, he rejected the notion that Islam was incompatible with modernization. He distinguished between hars, or “culture,” and medeniyet, or “civilization.” Culture was “the sum total of the religious, moral, and aesthetic values as well as the language peculiar to the nation.”109 While civilization was an internationally applicable system “common to various nations” and the “product of the positive sciences, their methods, and techniques.”110 Gökalp argued that: “Nations tend towards homogeneity among themselves from the point of view of civilization, but towards differentiation from the point of view of culture.”111 The challenge for the Turkish nation—and Gökalp consistently used the word Turkish rather than Ottoman—was to adopt Western civilization while preserving its


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distinct culture, of which Islam formed a part. Gökalp rejected concepts of nation based on race, maintaining it was necessary to “consider everyone a Turk who calls himself a Turk”112 and that a nation was composed of “men and women who have gone through the same education, who have received the same acquisitions in language, religion, morality, and aesthetics.”113 He quoted what he described as an old Turkish saying that: “The one whose language is my language, and whose faith is my faith, is of me.”114 Yet Gökalp differentiated between personal faith and religious institutions; defending the former as an integral part of national culture, while arguing that the latter should be integrated into a unified state and subordinated to the supreme political authority in everything but purely theological issues. Nevertheless, the İTC had no qualms about instrumentalizing Islam following the empire’s entry into World War I on the side of the Central Powers of Germany and Austria-Hungary.115 On 11 November 1914, Sultan Mehmet V proclaimed a jihad against the Allies. It was supported by a fatwa issued by the sheikhulislam, which called on the Muslim subjects of Russia, France, and Britain to rebel against their rulers, threatening them with the wrath of God if they either failed to do so or fought against the Caliphate and its German and Austrian allies.116 But the call to jihad did little to generate any popular enthusiasm for the war, which most Ottoman subjects appear to have viewed with weary resignation.117 Yet once the fighting started, the majority of the rank and file of the Ottoman army appear to have seen the conflict as having a religious dimension and believed that, at least in part, they were fighting to defend their faith. Contrary to the claims of modern official Turkish historiography, there is no doubt that Islam played a much greater role in motivating the troops and maintaining morale than any notion of Turkish nationalism.118 Throughout the war, Ottoman troops charged into battle shouting the Islamic war cry of “Allah! Allah! Allah!”119 Imams served throughout the Ottoman army and encouraged the troops by reciting passages from the Qur’an, sometimes even in the heat of battle; and, although they were regarded with distaste and suspicion by many in the İTC leadership, several tariqah established military units comprised exclusively of volunteers from their own orders. However, even as it continued to use Islam as a motivating force, the İTC gradually reduced the influence of the ulema and the Shari’a. In April 1913, the government promulgated a decree allowing judgments passed in the Shari’a courts to be referred to the secular court of appeal known as the Mahkeme-i Temyiz. In 1915, control of the Shari’a courts themselves was transferred from the sheikhulislam to the Ministry of Justice and the religious judges, or qadis, became subject to the same standards and regulations as their counterparts in the secular courts. In the same year, the madrasas were placed under the supervision of the Ministry of Education. Most madrasas, mosques, hospitals, and even libraries were financed by Islamic foundations. A new Department of Foundations was established in the Ministry of Finance to manage the foundations’ assets and pay any surplus revenue into the Ottoman Imperial Revenue for general use. In April 1916, the sheikhulislam was removed from the Council of Ministers and became a purely religious dignitary whose

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authority was confined to theological debate. Two years later, even this authority was incorporated into the government bureaucracy through the creation of a new department called the Dar ül-Hikmet ül-İslamiye, or “Abode of Islamic Wisdom.” A new law on inheritance based on the German code had been enacted in 1913. In 1917, the code of family law was amended to make marriage a secular contract and entitle a woman to divorce her husband if she could prove that he had committed adultery. However, polygamy remained legal, as did the right of men to divorce their wives by repudiation.120 While all theatres, restaurants, and lecture halls were obliged to have curtained off areas for women and there were also special sections on the trams in Constantinople. Nevertheless, the İTC did encourage women to take a more active role in public life. The first all-girls high school was opened in 1911. In 1914, women were allowed to attend some of the courses at Istanbul University. Vocational schools were established to provide women with training as secretaries and nurses. In the major cities, educated women founded associations to lobby for the protection of women’s rights. Women such as the feminist novelist Halide Edip (1884–1964) became active members of the Türk Ocağı, addressing meetings121 and writing for the İTC newspaper Tanin. While a labor shortage resulted in the creation of the Kadınları Çalıştırma Cemiyeti İslâmiyesi (Society for the Employment of Muslim Women).122 Even though their fears were never fulfilled, the sultan’s call for a global jihad alarmed the Allies; particularly the British, who entered into negotiations with Hussein bin Ali (1852–1931), the sharif and emir of Mecca, in the hope of fomenting a rebellion in the Hijaz.123 After two years of negotiations, Hussein launched the Arab Revolt in June 1916 with an attack on the Ottoman garrison in Mecca.124 When Hussein issued a public declaration explaining the reasons for his rebellion, he focused primarily on what he described as the anti-Islamic policies of the İTC, such as its secularizing reforms and its curtailment of the rights and responsibilities of the sultan. In reality, Hussein appears to have been primarily motivated by personal ambition.125 Nevertheless, his revolt was a propaganda gift to the Allies. In a speech he gave in Damascus in January 1917, Cemal complained: “Unfortunately, the course of the holy jihad has been blocked by a mean individual who, in the very heart of the Holy Land of Islam, has allied himself to those Christian Powers whose object is to despoil the world of Islam.”126 But only a handful of Arab nationalists, mostly exiles already at odds with the İTC, expressed their support for Hussein. Despite later accounts by romantics such as T. E. Lawrence (1888–1935), the British military intelligence officer who became popularly known in the West as Lawrence of Arabia, there was no mass nationalist uprising.127 Hussein’s forces never numbered more than a few thousand men. Nor did any Arab units in the Ottoman army defect to Hussein. Fears of the revolt spreading undoubtedly tied down Ottoman troops, and many Ottoman commanders became distrustful of the Arabs serving under them. But it was the British army under General Edmund Allenby (1861–1936) which was ultimately responsible for the Ottomans’ military defeat in 1918.


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As late as September 1918, Reginald Wingate (1861–1953), the British High Commissioner in Egypt, wrote: “Moslems in general have hitherto regarded the Hijaz revolt and our share in it with suspicion or dislike.”128 The war also intensified Ottoman Muslim hostility towards the empire’s Christian minorities, particularly the Armenians; not least because countries such as Britain, which had vigorously lobbied the Ottomans for non-Muslim rights and vociferously protested civilian massacres of Christians by Muslims while remaining silent when Muslim civilians were massacred by Christians, were now not only at war with the empire but unable even to try to protect its non-Muslim communities. In May 1913, with the Ottoman Empire still reeling from defeat in the Balkan War, the Dashnaks had demanded the establishment of a foreign gendarmerie to protect the Armenians of eastern Anatolia. On 8 February 1914, the İTC signed the Armenian Reform Agreement, which foresaw the appointment of Europeans to head two inspectorates to monitor the situation of the Armenians in Anatolia; although World War I prevented the scheme ever being realized. Following the outbreak of hostilities, some Ottoman Armenians deserted to the Russian army as it advanced into eastern Anatolia, while others took to the hills in eastern Anatolia to conduct guerilla operations. However, even when the two are added together, the total number of those involved did not exceed more than a few thousand at a time when the total Ottoman Armenian population numbered at least 1.25 million. The later claims in official Turkish historiography that there was a mass Armenian uprising accompanied by wholesale massacres of Muslim civilians129 not only lacks any evidence but is repeatedly contradicted by contemporary eyewitness accounts, including those of German officers serving with the Ottoman army in the region at the time.130 Nevertheless, in early 1915 a cabal of leading members of the İTC led by Talaat took the decision to remove the Armenians from virtually all of Anatolia. The reasons for what was officially known as a techir, or “relocation,” were probably twofold: a genuine fear that, even if it had not yet occurred, there might yet be a mass uprising which would result in the empire losing eastern Anatolia as it had lost the Balkans; and simple racial and religious hatred. In early January 1915, an Ottoman army commanded by Enver suffered a catastrophic defeat at the town of Sarıkamış in the southwest Caucasus,131 leaving eastern Anatolia vulnerable to a possible Russian advance. On 25 February 1914, the İTC gave the order for any Armenians serving in fighting units in the Ottoman army to be disarmed and transferred to labor battalions.132 On 24 April 1915, the authorities in Constantinople arrested around 250 of the leading Armenians in the city, nearly all of whom were subsequently executed. Starting in May 1915, the government ordered the deportation of virtually the entire Armenian population, with the exception of a few communities along the Aegean coast and the remainder of the community in Constantinople. The deportations followed a set pattern. Once the order had been given for the Armenians to leave their homes, the able-bodied men were separated and led away. On many occasions they were executed immediately, often within sight or earshot of their relatives.133 Others were taken to serve in labor battalions in the Ottoman army.

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The remainder of the community was then marched across Anatolia into the Syrian desert. Almost no provision was made to supply or protect the deportees. Most died during the journey from hunger, exhaustion, or disease. Others were killed by Kurdish and Arab tribesmen who, often in connivance with the convoys’ military escorts, robbed and killed the deportees as they passed through their territory. There were also numerous massacres by units of the Teşkilât-ı Mahsusa, many of which had been formed from convicts newly released from prison. Recently discovered notebooks belonging to Talat include a list in his own handwriting of the numbers of deported Armenians by province during the period 1915–16, which add up to a total of 924,158.134 There were no plans for the permanent resettlement of such a huge number. The Ottoman authorities clearly did not expect more than a fraction even to survive the journey to Syria, where they only erected tents to accommodate a few thousand of the deportees. The precise death toll from the deportations and massacres will never be known, although it was probably at least 600,000 and may have been considerably higher. Even if the leaders of the İTC were specifically targeting Armenians, most of those involved in the deportations and massacres undoubtedly saw them as a religious rather than as a national group. On 12 July 1915, Talat wrote to the governor of Diyarbakır in southeast Turkey about reports he had received of 700 Armenian and other Christian deportees from Diyarbakir having their throats cut outside the nearby town of Mardin.135 Talat warned that, unless something was done, the local Muslims would kill all of the Christians in the region. He noted that the application to other Christians of the tedâbir-i inzibâtiye ve siyâsiyenin, or “disciplinary and political measures,” adopted for the Armenians would have a negative impact on public opinion and ordered that “particularly atrocities which threaten the lives of all Christians should cease forthwith.”136 Later in the war, Armenian guerilla bands and Armenian units serving in the Russian army conducted a series of revenge massacres of Muslim civilians in eastern Anatolia and the Caucasus. The number killed is disputed, although it was probably at least 10,000 and perhaps as many as 20,000. As with the earlier massacres of Christians, the Armenian perpetrators do not appear to have distinguished between ethnic Turks and Kurds but simply killed Muslims. The revenge killings continued after the final defeat of the Ottoman Empire in 1918 and the flight into exile of Talat, Enver, and Cemal. In March 1921, Talat was assassinated by Armenian militant in Berlin. In July 1922, Cemal met the same fate in Tblisi.137 Enver was killed in the Caucasus in August 1922 in a skirmish with Bolshevik forces during a failed attempt to create a pan-Turkist empire.138 However, by this time, a new leader had appeared from the ranks of the former members of the İTC who would not only create the Turkish Republic from the remnants of the Ottoman Empire but introduce the most ambitious social reengineering project ever attempted in a predominantly Muslim country.

3

The Creation of the Kemalist State

S

ince his death, the personality cult surrounding Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881– 1938),1 the general who founded the modern Turkish Republic in 1923, has developed many of the trappings of a fully fledged religion, often with striking parallels to Islam. Atatürk’s doctrines and principles have been consolidated into the official state ideology of Kemalism, which is enshrined in the Turkish constitution2 and has spawned a canon of hagiographic literature. Courses on his teachings and the history of his reforms are compulsory at every level of the educational system. The cult has its equivalent of religious feast days in public holidays, on which Atatürk is ceremonially remembered, and its place of pilgrimage in his mausoleum complex, known as Anitkabir, in the center of Ankara. Kemalism has a canon of sacred texts, most prominently the Nutuk, Atatürk’s six-day speech of October 1927 in which he detailed his role in the Turkish War of Independence. While, in a manner reminiscent of the hadith, his deeds and comments on a vast range of subjects are cited for validation and inspiration. Saying or writing anything derogatory about Atatürk is regarded by Kemalists as tantamount to blasphemy and the perpetrator is liable to prosecution under laws criminalizing insulting Atatürk’s memory.3 His cult even has the equivalent of the Prophet Muhammad’s Hijra in Atatürk’s landing at the Black Sea port of Samsun prior to withdrawing into the Anatolian heartland to launch the War of Liberation.4 Yet Kemalism differs from Islam in its relentless iconography. Atatürk’s face appears on every Turkish coin and banknote. His portrait hangs on the walls of every classroom and government office as well as a large proportion of business premises; and statues and busts adorn village and town squares. The cult is even more pronounced in the Turkish military, which sees itself as the guardian of Atatürk’s legacy. Military cadets are encouraged to regard Atatürk as having an almost physical presence in their lives. Photographs of likenesses of Mustafa Kemal’s face in the clouds or of his profile in the shadows cast by the clouds on a hill are hung on walls in training academies.5 In such circumstances, it is often difficult to separate the man from the myth. Yet the personality cult arguably does him a disservice. By implicitly according Atatürk

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preternatural status, it ultimately devalues what was, by mere mortal standards, an extraordinary attempt to transform Turkey into his vision of a modern country.

Mustafa Kemal: From Salonica to Ankara Atatürk was born into a Turkish-speaking Muslim family in Salonica, probably in early 1881, although the precise date and month are uncertain.6 At the time, Muslims did not use surnames and his parents named him simply Mustafa. He acquired the second name of Kemal while he was at preparatory school, probably to distinguish him from another child with the same name.7 He would later claim that he was descended from a tribe of Turkic nomads who had migrated from Anatolia to the Balkans after the Ottoman conquest. However, contemporary reports suggest that he was of mixed ancestry.8 What is undoubted is that the conflict between modernity and tradition was a factor in Mustafa Kemal’s life even when he was a small child. Mustafa Kemal’s parents had six children, of whom only he and a sister called Makbule (1887–1956) survived into adulthood. His father Ali Rıza (c.1839–88) was a junior civil servant and timber merchant, whose own father, brother, and nephew were all teachers in Qur’an schools. Yet Ali Rıza himself appears to have been less than devout, and heavy drinking contributed to his early death at the age of 47. Ali Rıza is reported to have wanted Mustafa Kemal to attend one of the newly opened secular schools prior to a career as a merchant. His mother Zübeyde (c.1860–1923), who remained a deeply pious Muslim throughout her life, wanted him to receive a religious education. In the end, Mustafa Kemal did both, briefly attending a Qur’an school before transferring to a secular primary school. In 1893 he passed the entrance examination for the military preparatory school in Salonica. By his own account, Mustafa Kemal’s desire to be a soldier was at least partly motivated by jealousy at seeing military cadets walking the streets of Salonica in the smart, German-style uniforms rather than the baggy oriental trousers and sash usually worn by Muslim students.9 However, many of Mustafa Kemal’s other reminiscences of his childhood—such as leading a revolt of his fellow students at the Qur’an school against sitting cross-legged on the floor in the traditional Muslim manner rather than at desks like non-Muslim children10—need to be treated with a degree of skepticism. Nevertheless, there seems little doubt that, even as a child, Mustafa Kemal was unusually headstrong, solitary, self-confident, and possessed of a searing ambition. After six years in Salonica, in 1899 Mustafa Kemal enrolled in the War College in Constantinople,11 passing out eighth and receiving a commission as a second lieutenant in 1902. He went on to Staff College, graduating as a captain in the infantry in January 1905. It appears to have been while he was a cadet that Mustafa Kemal became both a committed Turkish nationalist12 and involved in the dissemination of seditious literature calling for the restoration of the 1876 consitution. During his first posting, to the Fifth Army in Damascus, he became the leading figure in a clandestine organization known as Vatan ve Hürriyet, or “Fatherland and Freedom,” which was subsequently merged into the İttihat ve Terakki Cemiyeti

THE CREATION OF THE KEMALIST STATE

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(Committee for Union and Progress or İTC). However, he appears to have played a relatively minor role in the revolution of 1908 and the suppression of the Islamist uprising in 1909. Throughout the İTC’s decade in power he remained outside the organization’s decision-making core, while continuing to serve with increasing distinction as an officer in the Ottoman army. Kemalist historiography tends to attribute Mustafa Kemal’s eventual pre-eminence to his emergence as a national hero during the defeat of the Allied landing at Gallipoli in 1915–16.13 This is misleading. There is no question that Mustafa Kemal was a talented solider: an astute tactician, whose energy, determination, and unfailing self-confidence made him an inspiring leader. But he was not infallible and, for his superiors, he often proved a truculent subordinate.14 As commander of one of the six Ottoman divisions at Gallipoli, Mustafa Kemal undoubtedly made a significant contribution to the eventual Ottoman victory.15 But he was far from alone. In fact, rather than being feted as a national savior, he remained simply unknown to the public at large.16 But Mustafa Kemal’s record at Gallipoli did boost his reputation within the Ottoman military establishment. Over the next two and a half years, he further enhanced his reputation as a talented, if frequently headstrong, commander and rose to the rank of major-general. After the Ottoman surrender in October 1918, he returned to Constantinople in the apparent—though ultimately frustrated—hope of receiving a post in the new Ottoman government which was being formed under Allied military supervision.17 The end of hostilities had left the Ottoman government in possession of territory approximately coterminous with the borders of the modern Turkish republic.18 Under the Treaty of Sèvres, which was signed on 10 August 1920,19 the Allies sought to reduce this still further, ceding large areas of western Anatolia to Greece while creating an independent Armenian state in the east. In anticipation, 20,000 Greek troops had already landed at Smyrna (the modern İzmir) on 15 May 1919, and occupied the surrounding area. Before they fled the country, Talat and Enver had attempted to create the infrastructure for a guerilla campaign against the expected occupation of Anatolia. The Teşkilât-ı Mahsusa had been ordered to stockpile arms and ammunition and begin establishing a network of local guerilla units. Talat and Enver also created another organization called Karakol Cemiyeti, or “Guard Association,” which soon replaced the Teşkilât-ı Mahsusa as the main clandestine network. In addition, starting in November 1918, the İTC began to establish a series of local “societies for the defense of rights” in order to serve as focal points for resistance to any military occupation.20 In November 1918, the Karakol Cemiyeti had begun to smuggle Ottoman officers out of Constantinople to Anatolia in preparation for an armed resistance to occupation. However, initially, Mustafa Kemal appears to have resisted suggestions that he leave the capital. It was only when he had failed to secure a position in the government that he left Constantinople by ship to take up a position as military inspector of the Ottoman forces in northeast Anatolia.21 The Ottoman authorities had been alarmed by reports of intercommunal fighting in the region. Mustafa Kemal’s mission was to disarm those responsible before the Allies could use the disturbances as an excuse to pressure the government in Constantinople. Mustafa

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Kemal landed at the Black Sea port of Samsun on 19 May 1919.22 Precisely when he made the decision is unclear, but within a few weeks he had joined the resistance in eastern Anatolia. At the time of Mustafa Kemal’s arrival, the resistance was an uncoordinated collection of disparate elements, ranging from relatively well-disciplined former units of the Ottoman army to untrained civilians, tribal militias, and brigands. Although his contribution has been exaggerated by later hagiographers, there is no doubt that Mustafa Kemal played an important role in molding the resistance into an effective fighting force while simultaneously establishing himself as one of its leading figures. By December 1920, the resistance had crushed Armenian hopes of a large independent state in eastern Anatolia.23 In September 1922, after a prolonged and bitter struggle, İzmir was recaptured and the Greek army driven out of Anatolia. On both fronts, the fighting was marred by civilian massacres as members of each side gave vent to long-standing communal tensions. But, contrary to official Turkish historiography, the major ideological force inspiring the resistance—and the one that was explicitly exploited by Mustafa Kemal—was not nationalism but religion. Mustafa Kemal had already witnessed the motivating power of Islam during the Gallipoli campaign, describing how, for the soldiers under his command, “their private beliefs make it easier to carry out orders which send them to their death. They see only two supernatural outcomes: victory for the faith or martyrdom.”24 Mustafa Kemal’s own religious beliefs remain the subject of debate. Modern Kemalist historiography claims that he was a devout Muslim who wished merely to strip the contemporary practice of Islam of obscurantist accretions and prevent what should be a matter of private conscience from becoming entangled in the machinery of state. But, significantly, all of the quotations cited in support of this view are taken from public speeches in what remained a deeply religious society.25 Private reminiscences suggest that, in common with many others in the İTC, Mustafa Kemal had strong positivist sympathies and was either a deist or, more probably, a freethinker.26 What is undoubted is that he was not a devout, practicing Muslim. There is no evidence that, when he was out of the public eye, he ever prayed, visited a mosque, or fasted during the Islamic holy month of Ramadan. He was also a notoriously heavy drinker, particularly of the aniseed-flavored spirit rakı; to the extent that the primary cause of his premature death in 1938 was cirrhosis of the liver. However, Mustafa Kemal had no hesitation in instrumentalizing Islam in pursuit of his short-term goals. Local religious dignitaries, including Muslim clergy and leaders of the tariqah, played a critical role in organizing and recruiting volunteers,27 as well as providing logistical support. Some even sponsored entire units.28 On 23 July 1919, when the resistance inaugurated what subsequently came to be known as the First National Congress in the eastern Anatolian city of Erzurum, religious dignitaries accounted for around one fifth of the delegates.29 The assembly was opened with a traditional Muslim sacrifice of a sheep and Islamic prayers in Arabic. Mustafa Kemal was elected chairman of the Heyet-i Temsiliye, or “Representative Committee,” which would serve as a permanent exceutive. The congress concluded on 7 August 1919 with a declaration proclaiming the indivisibility


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of the territory under Ottoman control at the time of the surrender in October 1918 and calling on all Muslims to resist what it described as Greek and Armenian separatism. A second congress was held in the town of Sivas from 4 September through 11 September 1919. The congress called for fresh elections to the Ottoman parliament in Constantinople, reaffirmed its commitment to the Erzurum declaration, and approved a motion merging the various societies for the defense of national rights into a nationwide Anadolu Rumeli Müdafaa-i Hukuk-u Milli Cemiyeti, or “Association for the Defense of the National Rights of Anatolia and Thrace,” of which all Muslims in Anatolia were to be regarded as members. There was no mention of “Turkey” or the “Turkish nation.” The word milli, which is usually translated into English as “national,” comes from the same root as millet and was used to denote a community identified by religion rather than race, ethnicity, or any notion of nationality. In 1926, Mustafa Kemal declared that he had known from before he landed at Samsun in May 1919 that: “In these circumstances, one solution alone was possible, namely to create a new Turkish state.”30 It is possible that he was telling the truth. As a former member of the İTC, he had been steeped in Young Turk literature and its discussions of race and nation. But there is no indication that the rank and file of the resistance had even a tenuous grasp of the concept of nationalism. The vast majority appear to have believed they were fighting for Islam and that, once the Armenians and Greeks had been repulsed and the foreign troops had left, the government in Constantinople would reassume complete control over the entire state under the sultan as sovereign and caliph. There is no evidence that either Mustafa Kemal or any of his like-minded associates made any attempt to disabuse them. Publicly at least, Mustafa Kemal also repeatedly pledged his allegiance to the sultan. On 19 October 1919, he sent Sultan Mehmet Vahdettin a telegram, reassuring him that: “Actuated by our religious duty, however, we are in every way subject and entirely devoted to our glorious Caliph and our dearly beloved Sovereign.”31 The opportunity soon arose for the resistance to put such sentiments into practice by establishing a substantive formal presence in Constantinople. In the late fall of 1919, fresh elections were held for the Ottoman parliament. The resistance’s strength in the Anatolian countryside meant that it was able to control the vote, and its supporters won a clear majority in Muslim areas. Mustafa Kemal himself even stood and won in Erzurum, although he never took up his seat and remained in the resistance’s new headquarters in Ankara. On 17 February 1920, the new parliament adopted what it termed a Misak-ı Milli, or “National Pact,” in which it declared that “the territories inhabited by an Ottoman Muslim majority, united in religion, race and aim, formed an indivisible whole.” But it also challenged the Allies by calling for plebiscites in the empire’s former Arab provinces, which Britain and France were in the process of annexing as quasi-colonial mandates. On the night of 15–16 March 1920, British soldiers began to occupy Constantinople. On 11 April 1920, under pressure from the Allies, Sultan Mehmet Vahdettin officially dissolved parliament and the sheikhulislam Dürrîzade Abdullah Beyefendi (1867–1923) issued a fatwa declaring that the members of the resistance in Anatolia were infidels and that it was the duty of all true believers to try to kill them.

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The resistance responded five days later with a fatwa issued by Mehmet Rifat (1860–1941), the müftü, or “mufti,”32 of Ankara and signed by around 250 of his colleagues from across Anatolia. It described Mehmet Vahdettin as a prisoner of infidels and declared that it was the duty of all Muslims to try to free him, claiming that the sheikhulislam’s fatwa was invalid because it had been issued under pressure from the Allies in Constantinople. But there is little doubt that the sultan had needed little persuasion and already regarded the resistance as a political rival and a long-term threat to his authority.33 Yet the sultan’s standing as caliph meant that, in order to retain popular support, Mustafa Kemal had to preserve the fiction that he was fighting for the protection of the sultanate and caliphate; while taking every opportunity to assert the resistance’s Islamic credentials. After the parliament in Constantinople was dissolved, Mustafa Kemal invited any members of parliament (MPs) who could leave the capital to come to Ankara to form a new assembly. A total of 92 MPs succeeded in doing so. On 23 April 1920, together with over 200 representatives of local branches of the societies for the defense of national rights, they formally convened the Büyük Millet Meclisi, or “Grand National Assembly.” Mustafa Kemal had chosen 23 April because it was a Friday, the Muslim holy day. Before the assembly was officially opened, religious officials said prayers for the safety of the sultan and caliph. A hair reputedly from the Prophet Muhammad’s beard and what was claimed to be his standard were borne in procession, while those in attendance shouted “Allahu ekber,” meaning “God is greatest.”34 The assembly elected a İcra Vekilleri Heyeti, or “Committee of Executive Deputies,” to serve as the cabinet of what the resistance now claimed was now the legitimate government of the entire empire. The committee was headed by the president of the assembly, who thus combined the roles of speaker of parliament and chief executive of the government. Despite some opposition, Mustafa Kemal succeeded in having himself elected to the post. He concluded his brief acceptance speech with a prayer that “our master the sultan . . . should reign for ever, free from foreign bonds.”35 The first law promulgated by the Grand National Assembly was a Law of High Treason, which was passed on 29 April 1920 and which prescribed the death penalty for anyone who challenged the parliament’s legitimacy.36 For the next two and a half years, the Ottoman Empire effectively had two governments: the waning imperial regime in Constantinople; and the increasingly powerful administration based in Ankara. On 27 April 1920, Fevzi Pasha (1876–1950), a former military commander who had recently defected from the government in Constantinople, arrived in Ankara. Fevzi Pasha disingenuously assured the assembly that, before leaving Constantinople, he had met with Mehmet Vahdettin and that the sultan had asked him to establish contacts with the resistance in Anatolia. Mustafa Kemal and his inner circle of close associates knew that this was a lie. But the majority of the members of the resistance appear to have remained unaware of the deception. The fiction survived even the sultan’s confirmation on 24 May 1920 of death sentences passed in absentia by the Istanbul Court Martial against Mustafa Kemal and his senior


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colleagues for treason, rebellion, and incitement to revolt against the government of the Sultan and Caliph. On 20 January 1921, the assembly in Ankara promulgated what was effectively a rival constitution in the Teşkilât-ı Esasiye Kanunu, or “Law of Fundamental Organization.” For the first time, the country was referred to as Türkiye Devleti, or “the State of Turkey.”37 It was to be ruled by the government of the Turkish Grand National Assembly, which would have full legislative and executive powers. Article 7 of the Teşkilât-ı Esasiye Kanunu affirmed the assembly’s commitment to upholding the Shari’a, which it declared would inform the preparation of all laws and regulations. But there was no direct reference to the sultan or the caliphate. The rivalry between Constantinople and Ankara was not restricted to the propaganda battlefield. On 18 April 1920, the Ottoman government in Constantinople issued a decree establishing what were officially known as Kuva-yı İnzıbatiye, or “Disciplinary Forces,” to oppose the forces of the resistance in Ankara. By May 1920, around 4,000 members of the Disciplinary Forces had been deployed close to the modern town of Izmit, approximately 60 miles (100 kilometers) east of Constantinople. The sheikhulislam’s fatwa also inspired groups of irregulars. The most formidable was a band of Circassians, the descendants of Muslims refugees from the northern Caucasus who had been settled in northwest Anatolia. They were led by a former Gendarmerie lieutenant named Ahmet Anzavur (c. 1885–1921). Both Anzavur and the government in Constantinople sought to portray the struggle in explicitly religious terms. Anzavur called his irregulars Kuva-yı Muhammediye, or “Muhammad’s Forces,” while the Disciplinary Forces were frequently referred to as the Hilâfet Ordusu, or “Army of the Caliphate.” But the sultan’s forces were few in number and poorly organized. In comparison, the resistance could draw on a cadre of experienced, German-trained, former high-ranking Ottoman officers. It also had its own band of Circassian irregulars led by Ethem (1886–1948), who became known as Çerkes Ethem, or “Circassian Ethem.” By late May 1920, Anzavur had been defeated and the resistance turned its attention to the Disciplinary Forces. On 14 June 1920, the Disciplinary Forces were attacked and defeated just outside Izmit. The resistance forces pursued the survivors westwards towards Constantinople, forcing the British to intervene to drive them from the outskirts of the capital. On 26 June 1920, the Disciplinary Forces were formally disbanded. The administration in Ankara demonstrated its ruthlessness by hanging seven captured former Ottoman officers who had fought for the Disciplinary Forces. Several local dignitaries who were alleged to have provided them with logistical support met the same fate.38 In order to deter other Muslims from taking up arms against the resistance and to discipline deserters from its own forces,39 on 11 September 1920 the Grand National Assembly created the İstiklal Mahkemeleri, or “Independence Tribunals,” in eight different regions of Anatolia.40 The tribunals were consciously modeled on the revolutionary tribunals established in France in 1793 following the French Revolution. Little attention was paid to due process and there was no right of appeal against verdicts. Death sentences were common and usually carried out by public hanging within a few hours of being passed.41

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Mustafa Kemal also sought to prevent the emergence of rival power bases within the resistance leadership. There is no evidence of public sympathy for—or even knowledge of—communism in Anatolia as a whole. However, several leading members of the resistance were outspoken admirers of the Bolshevik regime that had recently seized power in Moscow. They included Çerkes Ethem, whose memoirs make no secret of his support for “the lofty, attractive principles of the freedom and liberty of nations as espoused by Lenin.”42 In spring 1920 a handful of Bolshevik sympathizers in the resistance formed what they called the Yeşil Ordu Cemiyeti, or “Green Army Association.”43 Despite its name, the Green Army Association was more of a political than a military organization. It advocated what can probably best be described as “Islamo-Bolshevism,” combining elements of anti-imperialism and socialism with a commitment to Islamic principles and the caliphate. It was initially tolerated by Mustafa Kemal; not least because he hoped that the Bolsheviks would supply the resistance with weapons and equipment. However, his attitude changed when Çerkes Ethem joined the association and it established its own group in the Grand National Assembly. On 18 October 1920, Mustafa Kemal responded by founding his own Türkiye Komünist Fırkası (Turkish Communist Party or TKF) under the leadership of some of his own closest supporters. The TKF promptly took over the memberships and even the printing presses of other leftist groups.44 Mustafa Kemal was thus able to maintain a façade of sympathy for the Bolsheviks while controlling and emasculating the left-wing movement within the resistance. Once the TKF had served its purpose, it was quietly disbanded in early 1921. The move against communist sympathizers within the resistance coincided with—and partly inspired—an attempt to integrate the semi-autonomous bands of irregulars into the centrally controlled army of regular units. One of the main targets was Çerkes Ethem, whose troops included a 700-strong unit known as the Bolshevik Battalion.45 When Ethem resisted, regular units were sent to disarm the irregulars under his command and integrate them into the main body of the resistance’s forces under a central command. Ethem defected to the Greeks in January 1921 and eventually fled into exile.46 There were also occasional uprisings against the Ankara regime, particularly among the Kurdish tribes of eastern Anatolia. Most were local in origin and limited in ambition—such as attempts by tribal chieftains to create autonomous, personal fiefdoms. There had been some attempts by educated Kurds in Constantinople to form embryonic nationalist organizations; the majority of which were closed down by the Ottoman authorities in 1919.47 But there is no evidence of widespread support for—or even awareness of the concept of—Kurdish nationalism on the ground in eastern Anatolia; much less of any Kurdish nationalist organizational networks. For the Kurds, identity continued to be defined through tribe, family, and religion rather than any concept of nation.48 Moreover, most of the Kurds were devout Sunni Muslims and, even if they felt little allegiance to the Ottoman state, were loyal to the sultan in his capacity as caliph. The only functioning supra-tribal network in eastern Anatolia was that of the tariqah, particularly the Naqshbandi order. But even here there were often rivalries between different sheikhs, leaving the British High Commissioner in Constantinople


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ruefully to inform his superiors in London in March 1920 that: “no such thing as ‘Kurdish opinion’ in the sense of coherent public opinion can be said to exist . . . few [Kurds] looking higher than tribal aghast or religious sheikhs amongst whom there is little common ground . . . [the] few educated Kurds outside Kurdistan holding separatist ideas are very apt to exaggerate their own influence and importance.”49 From the moment he joined the resistance movement, Mustafa Kemal had assiduously courted Kurdish tribal chieftains and religious dignitaries, particularly tariqah leaders, to whom he repeatedly stressed his loyalty to the caliphate. At Sivas in September 1919 he declared that: “Turks and Kurds will continue to live together as brothers around the institution of the caliphate.”50 But loyalty to the caliphate meant little to the Alevi Kurds. Although some Alevi tribes supported the resistance, its professed commitment to the caliphate meant that many more remained suspicious and even openly hostile. The Alevis tended to be concentrated in relatively inaccessible rural areas, where central government control had always been weak. This was particularly the case in the mountainous province of Dersim, the modern Tunceli. In November 1920, the Dersim Alevis of the Koçgiri tribe staged an armed uprising, demanding the withdrawal of all resistance forces from the region and the creation of an autonomous province under a Kurdish governor. Mustafa Kemal initiated a dialogue with the tribal leaders. But by late March 1921 the two sides were still no closer to an agreement. When the tribal leaders rejected a call by the Ankara government to disarm, the resistance forces launched a military offensive and crushed the uprising with such severity that there were even demands in the assembly in Ankara for the commanders responsible to be put on trial.51 Although areas of Anatolia remained restive, the Koçgiri uprising was the last serious internal challenge to the Ankara government. By the time the Greek army was driven out of İzmir in September 1922, the resistance movement was the dominant military force throughout Anatolia. It was clear to the Allies that the Treaty of Sèvres was unenforceable and that any negotiations about a new peace treaty would have to include representatives of the regime in Ankara. Initially, the Allies invited representatives of the governments in both Constantinople and Ankara to talks in the Swiss city of Lausanne. The Grand Vizier Tevfik Pasha (1845–1936) sent a telegram to the government in Ankara suggesting that they send a joint delegation. In response, in the early hours of 2 November 1922, the Grand National Assembly passed a motion abolishing the sultanate. It declared that the administration in Constantinople had ceased to be the government of the Ottoman Empire and that both political authority and the right to appoint the caliph had now passed to the assembly in Ankara. On 16 November 1922, Sultan Mehmet Vahdettin asked the British to arrange safe passage out of Constantinople for himself and his family. They left the city the following day on the British warship HMS Malaya.52 When the news of the sultan’s departure reached Ankara, the government obtained a fatwa from Mehmet Vehbi (1861–1949), the minister of Islamic Shari’a law, declaring that the post of caliph was now vacant. On 19 November 1922, the Grand National Assembly appointed the Crown Prince Abdülmecit (1868–1944) to succeed Vahdettin as caliph. But there were to be no more sultans.

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Mustafa Kemal did not attend the negotiations in Lausanne in person but sent a delegation headed by İsmet Pasha (1884–1973), the former commander of the resistance forces on the western front. The talks opened on 21 November 1922. After nearly eight months of negotiations, an agreement was finally reached on 17 July 1923. What became known as the Treaty of Lausanne was signed one week later on 24 July 1923. It left the government in Ankara with sovereignty over virtually all of the territory under Ottoman control at the end of World War I and renounced all claims for war reparations.53 The last British troops left Constantinople on 2 October 1923. Four weeks later, on 29 October 1923, the Turkish Republic was formally established as the successor state to the Ottoman Empire, with İsmet as its first prime minister. In a demonstration of the break with the past, the government of the new republic did not move to the old Ottoman capital of Constantinople, which soon became officially known as Istanbul,54 but remained in Ankara. In theory, legislative and executive powers were vested in the unicameral Grand National Assembly, which was responsible for exercising sovereignty on behalf of the nation. In practice, real political power lay with Mustafa Kemal, the republic’s first president and head of state. Over the next fifteen years, he was to attempt not just to reform the rump of the former Ottoman Empire but to reinvent it by remolding a Muslim community into his vision of a secular nation state.

Creating a Nation In order to create a Turkish nation-state, it was necessary first to create a nation. Outside a small number of members of the educated elite, there was still no national consciousness. Constructing one would inevitably be considerably easier in a population which already perceived itself as forming a unified whole based on other criteria; and would then merely need to be taught to re-identify itself as a nation. Ziya Gökalp’s maxim of “the one whose language is my language, and whose faith is my faith, is of me” clearly did not apply to the population within the borders of the new Turkish Republic. There was no single shared mother tongue. Nor were the linguistic perimeters coterminous with the religious ones. Particularly in rural areas, there were communities of Orthodox Christians who spoke only Turkish and Muslims who spoke only Greek. Although many of the Ottoman Jewish community were polyglots, the mother tongue of the majority was Ladino; and a substantial number of wealthy Jews spoke French. While a significant proportion of Muslims spoke minority languages other than Turkish, such as Kurdish or Laz.55 Even amongst Turkish speakers there were regional dialects and differences in the language spoken by different social classes; with the more educated members of society peppering their speech—and even more their writings—with vocabulary and grammatical constructions from Arabic and Persian. There were also communities of both Turkish- and Kurdish-speaking Alevis. However, for the vast majority of the population, the primary determinant of self-identity and the identity of “the other” was still religion. Mustafa Kemal thus set out to create a Turkish national consciousness on the foundations provided by a religious identity.


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Even before the Turkish Republic was officially established, the new regime attempted to increase religious homogeneity by purging Anatolia of its largest surviving non-Muslim community. At Lausanne on 30 January 1923, the representatives of the governments of Greece and the Grand National Assembly in Ankara signed what was euphemistically known as the Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations. In reality, it was an act of mutual ethnic cleansing. Significantly, the sole criterion used for determining inclusion in the groups to be expelled was religion. Under Article One of the convention, the new Turkish Republic was to expel “Turkish nationals of the Greek Orthodox religion established in Turkish territory,” and Greece was to expel “Greek nationals of the Moslem religion established in Greek territory.”56 The main impetus for the exchange came from the Ankara government. Initially, it had sought the expulsion of the entire Greek Orthodox community in the territory under its control, including the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate and the lay population of Constantinople. But the presence of the Patriarch and the rest of the Orthodox community in Constantinople had immense symbolic significance for the Greek government. Constantinople had been the seat of the spiritual head of the Orthodox Church since the middle of the fifth century. Eventually, an agreement was reached whereby the “Greek inhabitants of Constantinople” were exempted from the population exchange and, in return, the “Moslem inhabitants of Western Thrace” were allowed to remain in Greece.57 The exchange was originally due to start on 1 May 1923, but problems with transportation and settlement meant that it did not begin until fall 1923 and was not completed until late 1924. The majority of the surviving Greek Orthodox community in western Anatolia had already fled after the defeat of the invading Greek army. For them, the convention represented not so much an expulsion as a ban on their return. However, there were still substantial Greek Orthodox communities in Cappadocia in central Anatolia and along the eastern coast of the Black Sea. In addition to the approximately 900,000 Greek Orthodox Christians who had already fled Anatolia, a further 150,000 to 200,000 were now expelled from Cappadocia and the Black Sea, while around 350,000 Muslims were forcibly relocated to Anatolia from mainland Greece and the Aegean islands.58 Most of the Orthodox Christians in Cappadocia spoke Turkish as their mother tongue and were known as “Karamanli,” after the local region of Karaman.59 While the relative geographical isolation of the Orthodox Christians of the Black Sea coast—who are usually referred to as “Pontic Greeks” from Pontus, the Greek name for the Black Sea—had resulted in the development of not only a distinctive culture but also a dialect of Greek which was largely unintelligible to contemporary inhabitants of Greece. Similarly, many of the Muslims arriving in Anatolia—particularly the communities from Ioannina in western Greece and the island of Crete—spoke only Greek. The population exchange had a markedly different impact on the two countries. For Greece, the problems were those of addition as its population of a little over four million suddenly grew by 25 percent. For Turkey, the problems were those of loss. In 1913, non-Muslims had accounted for around 20 percent of the total population of the area of the new republic. By 1924, after the deportations and

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massacres of the Armenians and the flight or expulsion of the majority of the Greek Orthodox population, the proportion had fallen to around 2.5 percent. More critically, Anatolia had also lost the majority of its business and professional middle classes, both of which had been dominated by non-Muslims.60 In contrast, most of the Muslims who fled or were expelled to Anatolia during the same period were subsistence farmers. The result was that the urban population of the territory that now formed the Turkish Republic shrank from approximately 25 percent of the total before the outbreak of World War I to around 18 percent in 1924. There also seems little doubt that, although the purging of non-Muslim elements made it easier to create a nation, it also set back the economic development of the Turkish state by at least a generation. Replacing the non-Muslim middle classes was more than a question of acquiring skills and accumulating capital. Particularly from the late nineteenth century onwards, the non-Muslim middle classes had tended to identify themselves in apposition to the state; and the relative ease with which they established contacts in Europe had given them greater access both to foreign markets and to technology and European methods of doing business. Whereas Muslims had a greater propensity not only to identify with the state but also to work with it or for it. Instead of creating a Muslim private sector, the distribution to Muslims of assets which had formerly belonged to non-Muslim businesses tightened the relationship between the Muslim business community and the state; not least because a good relationship with representatives of the state was a prerequisite for receiving the assets in the first place. The Muslim business community’s limited foreign contacts also increased its dependence on, and vulnerability to, the state. Not only did it have less access to foreign markets but, unlike the non-Muslims in the late Ottoman Empire—many of whom had taken foreign citizenship to benefit from the Capitulations and the protection of foreign embassies—the new Muslim business community had no one to intercede for it in its dealings with the state.61 In order to transform a community of Muslims into a nation state, Mustafa Kemal needed first to assert the state’s control over religious life. On 1 March 1924, at the opening of a new session of parliament, Mustafa Kemal called for the unification of the educational system and what he described as elevating religion above the political arena. On the following day, a detailed list of the proposed reforms was read out at a meeting of the Cumhuriyet Halk Fırkası (Republican People’s Party or CHF),62 which had been founded by Mustafa Kemal the previous fall. On 3 March 1924, the assembly passed a law abolishing the caliphate and expelling all members of the Ottoman royal family from Turkish territory. It also abolished the office of the sheikhulislam and created two new institutions, both of which were made subordinate to the Prime Ministry: the Diyanet İşleri Reisliği (Presidency of Religious Affairs or Diyanet for short), which was made responsible for overseeing religious functionaries and properties; and the Evkaf Umum Müdürlüğü, or “Directorate of Pious Foundations,” which was to manage and control the assets of all the pious foundations in Turkey. On 3 March 1924, parliament also passed an education bill bringing all the schools in the country under the Ministry of Education, including the madrasas and other religious schools which had traditionally been run by the ulema. On


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16 March 1924, Vasıf Bey (1895–1935), the Minister of Education, reported that 479 madrasas, which had been providing a religious education for 16,000 students, had been closed.63 In their place, twenty-nine İmam Hatip Mektepleri, or “Prayer Leader and Preacher Schools,” were established to train Muslim clergy64 and a İlahiyat Fakültesi, or “Faculty of Divinity,” was founded at the state-run university in Istanbul, which was now known as the İstanbul Darülfünunu. On 8 April 1924, parliament passed a law abolishing the Shari’a courts65 and unifying the entire judicial system under the Justice Ministry with secular laws and secular judges. As a result, the ulema was now stripped of its judicial functions in addition to its role in education. The new regime was nevertheless careful to pay at least lip service to its commitment to Islam. One of the first laws passed by the parliament had been a proclamation of 2 January 1924 naming Friday, the Moslem holy day, as an official holiday. On 20 April 1924, the assembly approved the Turkish Republic’s first constitution, which was based on the Teşkilât-ı Esasiye Kanunu of January 1920. However, the latter’s commitment to upholding the Shari’a had been replaced by a statement that: “The religion of the Turkish state is the religion of Islam.”66 The constitution also named Ankara as the capital of the republic and Turkish as its official language.67 There is no doubt that for many Sunni Muslims—both inside and outside the republic—the abolition of the caliphate had a symbolic value that far outweighed any sense of personal allegiance to the caliph himself. The mere fact that someone was claiming leadership of all the world’s Muslims meant that he served as an emotional focal point and a living symbol of the ideal of a unified community of believers, however fragmented that community might be in practice. The abolition of the caliphate triggered a sense of loss and disorientation—almost of bereavement—even amongst those who had disputed the Ottoman sultan’s right to be caliph; and left a vacuum which has never been filled.68 The removal of the judicial and educational functions of the ulema had left the tariqah as the only Muslim organizations with any influence in Turkish society; and it was the tariqah, particularly the Naqshbandi order, which now spearheaded the resistance to Mustafa Kemal’s reforms. The first armed uprising occurred in February 1925, when Sheikh Said (1865– 1925), a prominent Kurdish member of the Naqshbandi order, led a revolt in southeast Turkey in which support for the caliphate was mixed with elements of nascent Kurdish nationalism, tribalism, a reaction of the political periphery against an assertive central authority, and a simple desire for loot and plunder.69 Sheikh Said planned to launch his rebellion in early 1925. In late 1924, he began touring southeast Anatolia to try to rally support for an uprising to restore the caliphate and establish a separate Kurdish polity which would be governed in accordance with Islamic principles. Sheik Said issued a fatwa describing the forthcoming rebellion as a jihad which was “an obligation for all Muslims without distinction of confession or tariqah.”70 But the revolt was to prove particularist rather than universal in its appeal. Sheikh Said came from a Zaza-speaking Sunni tribe. Predictably, his calls for a jihad failed to resonate with the local Alevi tribes, who had little reason to go to war for the spiritual leader of the Sunni Muslims.71 More surprisingly, Sheikh Said

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also made little headway with Kurmanji-speaking tribes, even though most of them were Sunni Kurds. He was more successful in utilizing the Naqshbandi network. Although some sheikhs remained aloof, others joined the rebellion and played a vital in role coordinating the fighting as the uprising spread across southeast Anatolia through February and early March 1925. Sheikh Said had divided the rebellion into five main fronts under his overall command as amir almujahidin, or “commander of the warriors of the faith.” Three of the fronts were commanded by other Naqshbandi sheikhs and the other two by Abdurrahmin, Sheikh Said’s brother, and Hakkı Bey, a tribal chieftain. Despite persistent rumors of an impending uprising in reaction to the abolition of the caliphate,72 the rebellion caught the Turkish government unprepared. By March 1925, the rebels had seized control of a broad swathe of eastern Anatolia. But with only limited local participation and without any foreign support, the rebellion had little chance of success.73 On 21 February 1925, the government in Ankara declared martial law in eastern Anatolia. On 4 March 1925, parliament passed the Takrir-i Sükün Kanunu, or “Law for the Restoration of Order,” which was to remain in force for two years and which granted the government extraordinary powers to crush “all reaction and rebellion, and the instigation or encouragement thereof, or the publication of anything likely to disturb the order, security, tranquility and social harmony of the country.”74 On the same day, the Independence Tribunals, which had been gradually phased out in the aftermath of victory over the Greeks, were reintroduced: one tribunal was to be based in Ankara and another mobile court was to tour the southeast, although in practice it was mostly based in Diyabakır. The government also deployed over 35,000 additional troops into the area.75 By the end of March 1925, the rebels had been militarily defeated. In mid-April, Sheikh Said and his entourage were captured by government troops, almost certainly after being betrayed by a rival Kurdish chieftain. On 28 June 1925, Sheikh Said was found guilty of insurrection by the Independence Court in Diyabakır. In the early hours of 29 June 1925, Sheikh Said and forty-six of his followers were publicly hanged on the outskirts of the city. Despite Sheikh Said’s execution, for the next two years southeast Anatolia remained restive as bands of rebels who had escaped capture conducted a lowscale guerilla war. The Independence Tribunals continued to operate until 7 March 1927, when they were formally dissolved.76 But it was only in 1928, with the proclamation of a general amnesty, that the last remnants of Sheikh Said’s supporters laid down their arms. Despite the speed and relative ease with which it was suppressed, the Sheikh Said rebellion shook the government in Ankara and prompted Mustafa Kemal to launch a crackdown on all possible centers of oppositions to his regime. During late fall 1924, a group of liberal MPs had become increasingly concerned by the government’s authoritarian, centralizing policies. On 17 November 1924 they formed the Terakkiperver Cumhuriyet Fırkası (Progressive Republican Party or TCF), which advocated a slower pace of change, political decentralization, and economic liberalization. By early 1925, the government had become alarmed by what appeared to be a steady growth in support for the TCF. In April 1925, it


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took advantage of the Takrir-i Sükün Kanunu to harass TCF members and order police raids of the party’s headquarters in Ankara. On 3 June 1925, the government banned the TCF altogether. It claimed that the party had been in contact with supporters of the caliph in Europe and been disseminating anti-government religious propaganda, which had fuelled support for the Sheikh Said rebellion.77 It was a fiction, albeit a convenient and effective one. Turkey was to remain a one-party state for almost all of the next 25 years. Mustafa Kemal next turned to the outward trappings of traditional Islamic belief, starting with headgear. Despite the conservative opposition when it was first introduced, many devout Muslims now regarded the fez as an Islamic headdress; not least because its lack of a peak or brim made it easy for Muslims to press their foreheads to the ground while prostrating themselves during prayer. Although a handful of members of the westernized urban elite had begun wearing Europeanstyle hats, for the majority of the population they were inextricably associated with the infidel West; and something no self-respecting Muslim could wear without implicitly insulting his own religion. For Mustafa Kemal, however, the fez was both a symbol of obscurantism and superstition and a source of national humiliation. It had also been the cause of intense personal embarrassment when, as a young Ottoman officer, street urchins had mocked the fez he wore as part of his military uniform during a port call in Sicily on the way to a posting in Libya.78 In summer 1925, Mustafa Kemal decided to outlaw the fez and replace it with European-style hats. Two years later, when he delivered the Nutuk, he declared: “It was necessary to abolish the fez, which sat on our heads as a sign of ignorance, of fanaticism, of hatred to progress and civilization, and to adopt in its place the hat, the customary headdress of the whole civilized world, thus showing, among other things, that no difference existed in the manner of thought between the Turkish nation and the whole family of civilized mankind.”79 In late August 1925, Mustafa Kemal took the hat to the people. He embarked on a tour of the western Black Sea—one of the most conservative areas of the country—ostentatiously sporting a panama hat. In speeches along his route, he announced that henceforth Turks would wear hats. When he returned to Ankara on 1 September 1925, the delegation of leading members of the government who lined up to welcome him back to the capital were all dutifully wearing hats. On 2 September 1925, the government issued a decree making the wearing of Westernstyle suits and hats compulsory for all male civil servants except members of the military and the judiciary. On 25 November 1925, parliament went one step further by passing the Şapka İktisasi Hakkında Kanun, or “Law Concerning the Wearing of the Hat,” which effectively made it obligatory for all male Turkish citizens who were not civil servants to wear hats too, stating: “The general headdress of the Turkish people is also the hat and the government forbids any practice which is incompatible with this.”80 The promulgation of the new law triggered riots in the Anatolian cities of Kayseri, Erzurum, Rize, Maraş, and Giresun. Naqshbandi sheikhs were once again at the forefront of the unrest. In Kayseri, Sheikh Mekkeli Ahmet Hamdi told demonstrators that the government was planning to prohibit the veil and possession of

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the Qur’an. Together with four other demonstrators, he was arrested, tried, and executed. In Erzurum, the gendarmerie opened fire on a crowd of 3,000 demonstrators led by a Sheikh Osman Hoca. An official report put the death toll at three,81 although the true figure was probably considerably higher. Martial law was declared in the city, and a specially convened Martial Law Court tried and executed more than a dozen of the demonstrators, including Sheikh Osman Hoca.82 The Ankara Independence Tribunal sentenced another eight protestors to death for their part in protests in Rize. Two more, including the Naqshbandi Sheikh Muharrem, were executed for leading the demonstration in Giresun. At least seven, and perhaps as many as tweny, of those who took part in the protest in Maraş were also hanged. In total, a minimum of thirty-six demonstrators are believed to have been executed and several hundred more received prison sentences.83 On 3 February 1926, the Ankara Independence Tribunal also sentenced a prominent former madrasa teacher called Atıf Hoca (1876–1926) to death for inciting the demonstrations. In spring 1924, Atıf Hoca had published a thirty-two-page booklet entitled Frenk Mukallitliği ve Şapka, or “Imitation of the West and the Hat,” which had criticized Muslims who adopted Western modes of dress. Even though the booklet had been cleared for publication by the Ministry of Education and Atıf Hoca had neither played any part in the protests nor been in contact of any of the protestors, he was hanged on 4 February 1926. In fall 1925, Mustafa Kemal turned his attention to the one remaining social network with a demonstrated ability to incite and organize resistance to his reforms. On 28 June 1925, when the Independence Tribunal in Diyarbakir delivered its verdict on Sheikh Said and his followers, it also ordered the closure of all the tariqah lodges in southeastern Anatolia. In September 1925, the government ordered that all tariqah lodges throughout the country be closed.84 This was reinforced on 30 November 1925 by a law which confirmed the closure of the lodges and effectively outlawed the orders themselves, including banning the use of all titles, roles, activities, and clothing associated with the tariqah. In addition, the new law also forbade access to all the tombs and shrines associated with Muslim saints,85 thus removing the web of physical focal points which had provided the masses with a purchase for their beliefs. However, no measures were taken to restrict worship at mosques, which—in theory if not always in practice—were now under the strict control of the state and the imams appointed by the Diyanet. In the Nutuk, Mustafa Kemal declared that the outlawing of the tariqah was necessary “in order to prove that our nation as a whole was no primitive nation, filled with superstitions and prejudices.”86 In practice, the ban circumscribed rather than eradicated the activities of the tariqah by forcing them underground. But its impact was uneven. The worst affected were tariqah such as the Mevlevi, whose rituals were performed in public. Others, such as the Naqshbandi order with its tradition of a silent dhikr, found it easier to adopt to a clandestine existence by discreetly meeting in small groups in private houses. Similarly, the ban on praying at tombs and shrines proved easier to enforce in urban areas than in the countryside. On 26 December 1925, parliament passed a law to introduce the Gregorian calendar as the sole measurement of time from 1 January 1927.87 From the reformists’


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perspective, the new law literally brought Turkey into the modern age, while also rendering the Islamic lunar calendar officially obsolete. Another law passed on the same day as the change to the calendar introduced the 24-hour clock for the first time.88 In early 1926, Mustafa Kemal also sought to bring the manner in which Turkish society was regulated into line with European countries. On 17 February 1926, the Turkish parliament approved a new civil code which was translated almost verbatim from the civil code in the Swiss canton of Neuchâtel.89 The changes it introduced included: granting Turkish citizens the right to choose their own religion, thus abolishing the previous prohibition on apostasy from Islam; officially recognizing only civil marriage ceremonies conducted by representatives of the civil authorities, while still allowing religious weddings as an additional but legally invalid option; outlawing polygamy; making divorce dependent on a decision of the courts; lifting the ban on Muslim women marrying non-Muslims; and granting men and women equal inheritance rights. The new Civil Code was followed by a battery of further legal reforms to try to bring Turkey into line with contemporary Europe. On 1 March 1926, parliament approved a new Penal Code, which was translated from the Italian Penal Code of 1889. A Code of Obligations was introduced on 22 April 1926, again based on the one in Swiss canton of Neuchâtel. On 9 May 1926, parliament approved a new Commercial Code, which was largely based on German law. But it was not only conservative Muslims who were disturbed by the pace of reform and Mustafa Kemal’s increasingly autocratic exercise of political power. In mid-June 1926, the authorities in Izmir received intelligence of a plot to assassinate Mustafa Kemal during a planned visit to the city on 17 June 1926. The conspirators were allegedly led by Ziya Hurşit (1892–1926), a member of the 1920 Grand National Assembly in Ankara whose outspoken criticism of Mustafa Kemal had resulted in him being excluded from the new parliament that was elected in 1923. The only other political figures known to have been involved were Şükrü (1875–1926), an MP and former member of the now-dissolved TCF, and Abdülkadir (1881–1926), a former governor of Ankara. The conspirators had also recruited five others, mostly professional criminals, to assist with the assassination itself and facilitate the plotters’ subsequent escape. When Mustafa Kemal learned of the conspiracy, he immediately sent the Ankara Independence Tribunal to Izmir to investigate. There is no evidence to suggest that Mustafa Kemal had any prior warning of the conspiracy, much less—as has sometimes been suggested—that he instigated it to create a pretext for a clampdown on political opposition; indeed, he appears to have been genuinely shocked and surprised by it. But there is also no doubt that he exploited the plot to liquidate potential political rivals. Mustafa Kemal first targeted the former members of the liberal TCF. The Independence Tribunal indicted a total of forty-nine people, twenty-seven of whom were former members of the TCF. The hearings that opened in Izmir on 26 June 1926 turned into a show trial. No convincing evidence was produced to implicate any but the eight known conspirators. Nevertheless, on 12 July 1926, the tribunal announced fifteen death sentences, two of them in absentia.90 Later the same

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night, the condemned men were publicly hanged at prominent locations around Izmir, their corpses remaining on public display until 10:00 the following morning.91 A further eight of the accused received prison sentences. The remainder were acquitted. In August 1926, Mustafa Kemal turned his attention to the former members of İTC. On 26 August 1926, the Ankara Independence Tribunal condemned four men to death and sentenced another five to ten-year prison sentences on trumped up charges of plotting to bring down the government and complicity in the decision to enter World War I. The four condemned men were hanged within hours of their sentences being announced.92 On 7 March 1927, their mission completed, the Independence Tribunals were dissolved. On 14 October 1927, the CHF held its inaugural party congress in Ankara.93 On 15 October 1927, Mustafa Kemal began his Great Speech, the Nutuk, which was delivered for six hours a day over a period of six days. In a clear contradiction of the historical record, he presented the Anatolian resistance as a nationalist movement, whose ultimate aim was the creation of a nation state. Mustafa Kemal also took the opportunity to attack and belittle those of his former colleagues in the resistance movement whom he had subsequently purged, while elevating his personal contribution and imbuing his actions and statements with an almost preternatural prescience. The Nutuk still remains the primary source for the official Turkish version of the history of the resistance movement. The 1927 congress also laid the foundations for the way in which the Turkish state would now be governed. Although Turkey was not yet officially a one-party state, Mustafa Kemal’s political authority was unchallenged and unchallengeable and would remain so until his death in November 1938. He had already begun to nurture a personality cult. Islam has traditionally tended towards aniconism and associated the depiction of humans or other living creatures with idolatry.94 As a result, there were virtually no statues or pictorial representations of humans or animals in the public domain. However, starting on 3 October 1926 with the unveiling of a statue in Sarayburnu in Constantinople, Mustafa Kemal initiated a campaign by which statues and busts of himself were erected in prominent positions throughout the new republic; which thus both served as a challenge to conservative Muslim opinion and provided a network of iconic focal points for his personality cult. Mustafa Kemal then turned to creating roots for his conception of a nation state in the form of a national culture. On 31 January 1928, he established the Türk Maarif Cemiyeti, which was later renamed the Türk Kultur Kurumu, or “Turkish Cultural Society.” In theory, the society’s duty was to uncover, restore, and protect a pure Turkish culture which had become submerged beneath the detritus of history. In practice, rediscovery often meant invention. On 10 April 1928, the phrase in the Turkish Constitution declaring that Islam was the religion of the Turkish Republic was erased, although there was as yet no explicit commitment to secularism. Further constitutional amendments removed all religious references from the oaths taken by newly elected members of parliament and the president of the republic. On 20 May 1928, Turkey adopted the numerals used in Europe95 in place of the Eastern Arabic ones that had been used to date. On 1 November 1928, parliament


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approved a law to abolish the Arabic script in which Turkish had traditionally been written. From 1 January 1929, Turkish would be written in a modified Latin alphabet. There is no doubt that the Arabic script was an unsuitable vehicle for the Turkish language. Not only did it not have any vowels, but it included some characters for which there was no equivalent in Turkish and one character which was used to represent four different sounds. But the fact that the Arabic script was used in the Qur’an meant that its abandonment as the vehicle for written Turkish also implicitly secularized the language; particularly for the illiterate masses for whom all writing, whether in Turkish or the Arabic of the Qur’an, had previously looked the same. At the time that the new script was introduced, only around 15 percent of the total population of Turkey was literate. Most had learned to read and write in primary schools, where they were taught Arabic and the Arabic script—knowledge of which could then be used to read Turkish. For the majority of the population, literacy and learning were so closely associated with Islam as to be inseparable from it. The introduction of the new script severed the last connection between sacred and secular learning. Not only were schoolchildren now taught the Latinbased alphabet, but it was also used to instruct them solely in secular subjects. As a result, nearly 100 years after Mahmud II had first broken the ulema’s monopoly of education, the Arabic script and religious instruction were now excluded from mainstream education. The Faculty of Divinity at the Darülfünun and the İmam Hatip schools remained open, but, perhaps not surprisingly given the state’s manifest lack of enthusiasm for the study of Islam, demand rapidly waned. The number of students enrolled at the Faculty of Divinity fell from 224 in 1924 to 20 in 1933, when the Darülfünun was formally abolished. It was replaced by the newly established University of Istanbul, which included an İslam İncelemeleri Enstitüsü, or “Institute for Islamic Studies.” However, the latter lasted only three years and was closed in 1936.96 There was a similar decline in demand for the İmam Hatip schools. In the academic year 1923–24, the twenty-nine İmam Hatip schools had a total of 2,258 students. By 1928–29, the number of students had fallen to one hundred, divided between just two schools: one in Istanbul and the other in the western Anatolian town of Kütahya. In 1930, even these two schools were shut down.97 As the supply of Islamic clerics began to dry up, those who were already serving in the clergy came under increasing pressure from the state to adapt the modes of worship to the new Turkish national culture. On 3 February 1928, amid a general campaign to promote the use of Turkish, Muslim clergy were instructed to deliver their Friday sermons in Turkish rather than Arabic. Four years later, in January 1932, they were told that public readings from the Qur’an during prayer services in mosques should now be in Turkish translation rather than the original Arabic. On 21 November 1932, the Diyanet ordered that the adhan, the traditional Muslim call to prayer, should be recited in Turkish; and a gramophone record made by the muezzin at Istanbul’s Sultan Ahmet Mosque was distributed to mosques throughout the country to help local muezzin learn the new version. Significantly, the new adhan replaced the Arabic Allah, which was also the word for God in everyday

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Turkish, with Tanrı, a word of Central Asian origin that had originally been used to describe a pre-Islamic Sky God. The new adhan formed part of an extraordinarily ambitious attempt at linguistic reengineering in order to create a “pure” Turkish language. Mustafa Kemal saw language as one of the foundations of Turkish national culture but believed that Turkish had been infiltrated and adulterated by words of foreign origin. On 12 July 1932, he established the Türk Dili Tetkik Cemiyeti, or “Turkish Linguistic Research Association,” which was later renamed the Türk Dil Kurumu, or “Turkish Language Association.” Its primary duty was a form of linguistic decolonization, purging the language of foreign accretions and resuscitating a purely Turkish vocabulary. In practice, the relative paucity of identifiably “Turkish” vocabulary resulted in considerable sleight of hand, with numerous words of demonstrably foreign origin being passed off as authentically Turkish, while a similarly large number of “rediscovered” Turkish words were blatant neologisms.98 Mustafa Kemal also sought to create a past for the new Turkish nation in what became known as the Türk Tarih Tezi, or “Turkish History Thesis.” In April 1931, Mustafa Kemal founded the Türk Tarihi Tetkik Cemiyeti, or “Turkish Historical Research Association,” which was later renamed the Türk Tarih Kurumu, or “Turkish History Association,” and which continues to serve as the custodian of official Turkish historical reality even today. The basic framework of the Turkish History Thesis began to emerge in the late 1920s and was fleshed out into an official doctrine at the First Turkish History Congress, which was held in Ankara from 2 July to 11 July 1932. It is most comprehensively elucidated in the series of four high-school textbooks—one for each year of high school education—which were published in 1931–32. The Turkish History Thesis is more of an attempt at nation-building in the present and collective self-aggrandizement and psychological reassurance than an objective appraisal of past events. Many of the elements of the conceptual framework within which it was forged—such as the cephalic index and Gobineau’s racial determinism—were common in other countries at the time and have subsequently been irretrievably discredited. However, a large proportion was sui generis; most notably the portrayal of a biologically discrete Turkish race as the locomotive of human history, inventing language and writing, and seeding the blossoming of civilizations from eastern Asia through the Indian subcontinent to Western Europe. Over the years, many of the thesis’s more outlandish claims have been quietly abandoned or wrapped in obfuscation.99 Yet, even today, the principles of the Turkish History Thesis still form the basis of both the state curriculum and official discourses; particularly the emphasis on cultural, linguistic, and racial unity as the foundation of national political unity. At the time that it was first formulated, the Turkish History Thesis not only claimed an unbroken racial pedigree stretching back thousands of years but also asserted that Turks had historically separated religion and state. It maintained that mixing the two had been the most fatal of “the Ottoman sultans’ countless mistakes,” as it had prevented “every kind of national development.”100 The new history textbooks rigorously downplayed any association between collective identity and Islam by consistently emphasizing the original pre-Islamic origins of the “Turks.” The inference was that Islam was a later accretion; something in which Turkish


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culture had become clothed but with which it had never been integrated, much less absorbed or subsumed. Schoolchildren were imbued with a sense of being the torchbearers of modernity, the first generation of a nation reborn in youthful vigor. In contrast, the traditional practices of Islam, if not explicitly its core beliefs, were depicted as “old”; the obscurantist trappings of the implicitly “un-Turkish” Ottoman era. For the younger generation, the alphabet reform propelled the Ottomans even further into the past, locking them behind an opaque linguistic barrier that made even the written records of just a few years earlier look like the antiquated products of a bygone era. The sense of newness was reinforced by the Turkish language reforms. In terms of personnel, the establishment of the republic did not result in large-scale changes in the governing bureaucracy. Most state employees were simply inherited from the previous regime. But now not only did officials have to dress differently, but they had to sound different as well. Vocabulary often became regarded as not just an indication of a speaker’s age—with schoolchildren and their parents often using different words to convey the same meaning—but also a marker of commitment to Mustafa Kemal’s vision of modernity; with the more conservative stubbornly continuing to use words of Arabic or Persian origin. Mustafa Kemal introduced further reforms which challenged not so much Islam itself as a traditional value system that had come to be associated with religion. Contrary to what is sometimes assumed, Mustafa Kemal never forbade women from wearing the chador or the hijab,101 although he actively discouraged them from wearing either and encouraged them to participate in public life. The first locally trained female doctors had graduated from the Faculty of Medicine in Istanbul in 1928. In 1929, Feriha Tevfik (1910–91) became the first-ever Miss Turkey, albeit decorously clad in an elbow-length blouse and a long skirt. Muslim women began to appear on stage in theaters and in the fledgling Turkish film industry; both of which had previously been the almost exclusive preserve of non-Muslim women. On 3 April 1930, women were granted political rights in municipal elections. On 5 December 1934, these rights were extended to general elections. When the country went to the polls in February 1934, eighteen women were elected to parliament; a figure that was not matched again until 1999. Just as he had attempted to change the way the citizens of the new republic dressed, Mustafa Kemal also sought to drape society in the accoutrements of Western culture. New theaters and opera houses were opened. A conservatoire was established in Istanbul to train musicians in Western classical music and the staff were forbidden from teaching traditional Turkish and Anatolian music. On 21 June 1934, parliament passed the Soyadı Kanun, or “Surname Law,” which required all Turkish citizens to take hereditary surnames.102 Previously, although many non-Muslims had used surnames, Muslims had tended to supplement their given names with either another name bestowed during childhood or the names of their fathers. The law came into force from 1 January 1935. Turkish citizens were given two years to choose a surname. There were strict limits on what they could, or could not, call themselves. The law forbade any names “which referred to rank and civil official status, tribes, foreign races or nationalities as well as names which are not suited to common morals and names which are disgusting and ridiculous.”103

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In practice, because only “authentic” Turkish surnames were allowed, the law also served as a tool of nationalist homogenization, as all of the ethnic minorities in Turkey were required to take “Turkish” names. On 24 November 1934, parliament passed a law endowing Mustafa Kemal with the surname Atatürk, meaning “Father Turk” or “Ancestor Turk,” and forbidding in perpetuity anyone else using the name. Other reforms represented a more direct challenge to Muslim sensitivities. On 31 December 1932, Mustafa Kemal inaugurated celebrations of the New Year by attending a gala at the Ankara Palas Hotel.104 On 27 May 1935, parliament passed a law not only making 1 January a public holiday but—most extraordinarily— changing the weekly holiday from Friday to Sunday. Although emulation—which in practice often meant imitation—of Western Europe was the overarching goal of Mustafa Kemal’s reforms, he did not have a comprehensive preconceived program but introduced changes as and when he deemed appropriate. Gradually, his goals and ideas began to coalesce into a comprehensive ideology. But it was not until 1936, with the publication of a book by Tekin Alp (1883–1961)105 entitled Kemalizm (Kemalism), that the ideology started to be called by the name by which it is known today. However, its six basic tenets were first articulated in the CHF106 program of 1931, which adopted the symbol of six arrows as its party emblem. The arrows represented republicanism, secularism, nationalism, populism, statism,107 and revolutionism. In mid-1930, Mustafa Kemal ordered the creation of an opposition party in an attempt to provide an outlet for popular resentment at the repressive political atmosphere and continuing economic hardship. The Serbest Cumhuriyet Fırkası (Free Republican Party or SCF) was officially founded on 12 August 1930, but forced to close three months later on 17 November 1930 amid fears that it might serve as a fulcrum of opposition to the government. As a result, by 1931 Turkey was once again a de facto one-party state. The situation was formalized on 18 June 1936, when Prime Minister İsmet İnönü issued a communique merging some of the functions and responsibilities of what was now the Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (Republican People’s Party or CHP) with those of the state apparatus. For example, the position of CHP secretary general was merged with that of interior minister, and provincial governors automatically became provincial heads of the CHP. On 5 February 1937, the six principles of the CHP’s program were incorporated into the Turkish Constitution, thus officially designating the republic as a secular state. However, outside the ruling elite, there is little evidence of popular enthusiasm for secularism. Although the mass of the population remained quiescent, there were occasional outbreaks of violence. Once again, the tariqah, particularly the Naqshbandi order, were heavily involved. The most serious incident—and one that has achieved iconic status in Kemalist historiography—occurred in the town of Menemen, just outside Izmir. On 7 December 1930, a member of the Naqshbandi order called Dervish Mehmet (also known as Giritli Mehmet, or “Mehmet the Cretan”) left his home in the town of Manisa and began to canvass support for an armed uprising. In mid-December 1930, Dervish Mehmet announced that he was the Mahdi or Islamic Messiah. On 23 December 1930, accompanied by six followers, Dervish Mehmet entered the


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town of Menemen, where he proclaimed an Islamic revolution and the restoration of the Shari’a. Their ranks swelled by around one hundred local sympathizers, Dervish Mehmet and his followers began to make their way to the town square. They were opposed by Reserve Lieutenant Mustafa Fehmi Kubilay (1906–30), a young teacher performing his military service. The mob lynched and decapitated Kubilay, parading his severed head on a pole as they marched through the streets. When news of the lynching reached local military headquarters, a detachment of soldiers was dispatched to crush the uprising. Dervish Mehmet and two of his supporters were killed and most of the rest of the mob either wounded or arrested. Martial law was declared and a Martial Law Court established to try those involved in the uprising. A total of twenty-nine members of the mob were subsequently hanged and another forty-three received prison sentences of between one and twenty-four years. What has become known as the Menemen Uprising, or the Menemen Incident, never posed a serious threat to the regime. But it nevertheless came as severe shock to the Kemalist establishment. Kubilay swiftly became Kemalist secularism’s first martyr; and the barbarity of his death served as a propaganda gift, enabling the regime to claim that it was indicative of the nature and intentions of religious opposition to Mustafa Kemal’s modernizing reforms. A monument to Kubilay was erected in Menemen in 1932. Commemorative ceremonies are still held in the town every year on the anniversary of his death, accompanied by public statements in which leading military and civilian officials reaffirm their willingness to follow in his footsteps. However, the greatest challenges to the authority of the central government continued to come from the predominantly Kurdish east of the country. In the thirteen years following the suppression of the Sheikh Said Revolt in 1925, there were fourteen major uprisings in eastern Turkey. However, unlike the Sheikh Sait uprising, religion appears to have played a relatively minor role in the unrest; except in as much as the abolition of the caliphate and its replacement by an explicitly Turkish nationalist regime had weakened the bonds of allegiance between the non-Turkish Muslim periphery and the political/religious center of the state. Both Kemalist and Kurdish nationalist historiographies have tended to portray the uprisings as being Kurdish nationalist in character. However, although the state’s policies of aggressive “Turkification” undoubtedly fuelled resentment amongst the country’s Kurdish minority, it is unclear how many of the uprisings were truly nationalist in terms of their goals and aspirations. Most appear to have been primarily local in character, as local tribes reacted against the attempts of the Kemalist state to impose cultural and political control over regions where central government authority had traditionally been very weak. Nevertheless, the government in Ankara seems to have been acutely aware of the potential danger from Kurdish nationalism, ruthlessly suppressing the uprisings and forcibly relocating entire communities. The most serious uprising occurred in the primarily Alevi province of what is now Tunceli in 1937–38. The details of the uprising remain obscure. No firsthand Alevi accounts have survived, probably not least because the vast majority of the participants were illiterate. While most of the relevant material in the Turkish state

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archives remains closed to independent researchers.108 Nevertheless, the little evidence that is available suggests that, although most of the rebels were Alevis, the uprising was primarily neither religious nor nationalist in character but a reaction against political assimilation by the central government. On 25 December 1935, parliament passed a law imposing military rule in the province from 2 January 1936. This was followed by a road- and bridge-building program to facilitate the penetration of what had long been one of the most inaccessible regions of Anatolia. The uprising broke out in late March 1937 and was not finally suppressed until September 1938. Seyit Rıza (1862–1937), the leader of the insurgents, and six of his colleagues were captured and hanged. But the total number of civilians and insurgents killed during military operations in the province almost certainly exceeded 5,000 and may have been as high as 10,000. In theory, this policy of assimilation also extended to the state’s non-Muslim citizens. But in practice, however much it sought to downplay any correlation between Turkishness and Islam, the Kemalist state nevertheless continued to use religion to delineate the human boundaries of the nation. If Islam was not a characteristic of the idealized Turkish nation, it appears to have been viewed as a de facto prerequisite of the human material out of which the nation was formed. Although leading members of the Kemalist elite sometimes made references to including non-Muslims within the Turkish nation, the ultimate aim appears to have been to suppress and exclude alternative identities rather than incorporate or integrate them. Article 39 of the Treaty of Lausanne had guaranteed “equality before the law” for “all the inhabitants of Turkey, without distinction of religion.” While Article 40 had promised that “Turkish nationals belonging to non-Moslem minorities shall enjoy the same treatment and security in law and in fact as other Turkish nationals.” These rights had been reaffirmed in the new republic’s constitution. Article 69 pledged that all Turkish citizens would enjoy equality before the law and Article 88 stated that: “In terms of citizenship every member of the population of Turkey, regardless of race or religion, shall be referred to as Turkish.”109 Yet, in practice, non-Muslim Turkish citizens were regarded, both popularly and by the state, more as resident aliens than fully fledged members of the Turkish nation. There is little doubt that the aftermath of the Ottoman defeat in World War I reinforced popular Muslim perceptions of non-Muslims as being foreigners in spirit if not in law. There are numerous contemporary accounts of members of the non-Muslim minorities cheering the Greek army when it landed at Izmir and the Allied forces when they occupied Constantinople. It is impossible to know how widespread such sentiments were, but the impression left by such incidents— whether witnessed or reported—on Muslims was indelible. Non-Muslims now had to prove their commitment to the new state by actively embracing Turkish culture; and often even this was not enough. In the years following the proclamation of the Turkish Republic in 1923, most non-Muslim state employees were dismissed; usually at the initiative of local officials, although sometimes as the result of a directive from the government in Ankara.110 In March 1926, parliament passed the Memurin Kanunu, or “Law on Government Employees,”111 which stipulated that government employees had to be “Turks”; and thus implicitly debarred non-Muslims from employment by the state.


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Although the law was amended in 1965 to read “citizen of the Turkish Republic,” the de facto exclusion of non-Muslims from the civil service has continued, with a handful of exceptions, down to the present day. Until 1929, non-Muslims living in Istanbul and Izmir, which meant the majority of the Greek Orthodox and Armenian populations, were forbidden from traveling outside their cities of residence. The restrictions were gradually eased between 1929 and 1931, before being virtually abolished in 1932; not least as the result of a rapprochement between Turkey and Greece. However, there were still de facto constraints on freedom of settlement. The situation was formalized by the 1934 İskan Kanunu, or “Settlement Law,” which regulated immigration and the internal relocation of communities within Turkey’s borders.112 The law restricted the rights of settlement of those who were not regarded as members of the “Turkish race” or “attached to Turkish culture”113 and was used to limit the concentration in strategically sensitive areas of both non-Muslims and Kurdish communities which had been relocated from eastern Anatolia. The government also used informal means to apply pressure to non-Muslim communities, such as refusing to suppress—and sometimes actively encouraging— campaigns of harassment and intimidation by members of the Muslim populace. For example, Armenian survivors of the massacres and deportations of 1915–16 who had managed to return to their homes in southeastern Anatolia in the wake of the Ottoman defeat in World War I were subjected to a campaign of harassment by elements in the Muslim population, with the connivance and occasional participation of members of the local security forces. The campaign intensified through the 1920s and was exacerbated by evidence of collaboration between exiled Armenian nationalist groups and restive Kurdish tribes, particularly in the run-up to a major uprising in the eastern province of Ağrı in 1930. Even though there is little evidence of close ties between the Armenian civilian population in the region and the Armenian nationalists in exile, from the state’s perspective, merely being Armenian was itself already a security threat. While for the local people, the motivation appears to have been primarily a combination of racial and religious prejudice and the desire for material gain. Many had already benefited from the expulsions and massacres of 1915–16, most notably through the acquisition of Armenian-owned property. As the campaign of harassment increased through late 1929 and into 1930, an estimated 10,000 to 12,000 Armenians fled into Syria.114 Within a few years, almost no Armenians were left in eastern and southeastern Anatolia. In 1939, Turkey annexed the Hatay, the former sanjak of Alexandretta in the French mandate of Syria in 1939. Within ten days of the annexation, 22,000 Armenians, comprising 90 percent of the Armenian population of the Hatay, had fled to Syria.115 The government also used popular pressure during what became known as the Vatandaş, Türkçe Konuş, or “Citizen, Speak Turkish,” campaign that started in the late 1920s. Article 39 of the Treaty of Lausanne had guaranteed that: “No restrictions shall be imposed on the free use by any Turkish national of any language.” Nevertheless, in a speech to a national gathering of the Turkish Hearths organization in April 1927, Prime Minister İsmet (who had now adopted the surname İnönü) insisted that everyone in the country must speak Turkish and reiterated the

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government’s determination to transform everyone in the country into Turks “no matter what the cost.”116 The resultant campaign was mainly driven by the Turkish Hearths, although it received considerable support from the state. In theory, the campaign was aimed at all of the country’s citizens, including non-Turkish Muslim minorities such as the Circassians and the Kurds. But in western Anatolia it became focused primarily on non-Muslims, particularly the Jews. In addition to their native languages, members of both the Armenian and Greek Orthodox communities were usually also fluent in Turkish. However, a large proportion of the Jewish community in Turkey, which at the time numbered around 80,000, knew little or no Turkish and used either Ladino or French in their daily lives. Posters were pasted on walls in non-Muslim neighborhoods exhorting everyone to speak Turkish. Storefront signs in other languages were torn down. Those who spoke other languages on the streets were subject to verbal threats and, on numerous occasions, physical assault. Even if its intensity fluctuated, it was not until the late 1930s that the campaign finally began to abate. Inevitably, such pressure heightened feelings of insecurity among the smaller non-Muslim communities outside Istanbul. This was particularly the case for the 13,000 Jews in Thrace, of whom around 8,000 lived in the town of Edirne. Previously, the Jews had suffered less public hostility than Christian minorities; not least because, unlike the Greek Orthodox and the Armenians, they had not been associated with forces which were regarded as posing a threat to Muslim security. However, attitudes changed through the late 1920s and into the early 1930s. In many cases, Jewish businesses had expanded to fill the space left by the departed Christians, which fuelled resentment among some elements in the Muslim population. By the early 1930s, a number of virulently anti-Semitic newspapers and journals had begun to appear, often explicitly drawing inspiration from the Nazis in Germany. Initially, the Turkish government did nothing to suppress them. The main reason appears to have been that, from the government’s perspective, the presence of so many non-Muslims close to the country’s borders with Greece and Bulgaria constituted a security risk. In May 1934, one of these publications, called İnkılap (Revolution), instigated an economic boycott of the Jewish community in the town of Çanakkale on the Dardanelles. In early June 1934, Jews in Çanakkale began to receive death threats. On 21 June 1934, some local Jews were attacked and badly beaten. When the authorities failed to react, around fifteen hundred Jews—almost the entire community— fled to take refuge with the much larger Jewish community in Istanbul. On 30 June 1934, the economic boycott spread to other towns in Thrace. In what appeared to be a coordinated operation, mobs rampaged through Jewish neighborhoods, looting Jewish-owned premises and attacking their owners in the Thracian towns of Kırklareli and Edirne. By mid-July 1934, an estimated 13,000 of the 15,000 Jews in Thrace had fled to Istanbul. The remainder soon followed. The disturbances do not appear to have been explicitly instigated by the central government, but there is little question that local officials and members of what was then still the CHF were involved in their organization. Nor was any serious attempt made to punish those responsible117 or provide security guarantees for the


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Jews’ safe return. Significantly, once Thrace had been purged of Jews, the government in Ankara suppressed the anti-Semitic publications. Mustafa Kemal’s definition of Turkishness moved between the inclusiveness of the voluntary embrace of Turkish culture—exemplified by his famous dictum “Ne mutlu Türküm diye,” or “Happy is the one who says I am a Turk”—and the exclusiveness of lineage and race. Yet, in his public speeches and private conversations, Mustafa Kemal concentrated more on extolling Turks and Turkishness than denigrating members of other communities. This led many non-Muslims to attribute the discrimination they suffered at the hands of the state not to Mustafa Kemal but to İsmet İnönü and his associates, who had no hesitation in fuelling and exploiting popular prejudices against non-Muslims. The inclusion by the short-lived SCF of a handful of non-Muslims in its list of candidates for the municipal elections of September and October 1930 triggered a smear campaign by the CHF, which claimed that the SCF planned to invite members of the Greek Orthodox and Armenian communities to reclaim their property. In Istanbul, local dignitaries warned against voting for the SCF on the grounds that it was the party of the Greeks, Armenians, and Jews. While the CHF’s flags and slogans described the SCF as the party of “the enemy.”118 In September 1930, Justice Minister Mahmut Esat proclaimed: “Turks are the only lords of this country, its only owners. Those who are not of pure Turkish stock have only one right in this country, that of being servants, of being slaves. Let friend and foe, and even the mountains, be aware of this reality.”119 In June 1932, parliament passed the Türkiye’deki Türk Vatandaşlarına Tahsis Edilen Sanat ve Hizmetler Hakkında Kanunu, or “Law Designating Trades and Services to Turkish Citizens in Turkey.”120 The law limited the practice of numerous trades and professions in Turkey to Turkish citizens. However, its real target was the large number of non-Muslims who were not Turkish citizens but who were working in Istanbul. These included a substantial community of White Russians and thousands of Greek Orthodox, most of them born and raised in the city, who held Greek passports. All now became unemployed and unemployable. An estimated 15,000 Greek Orthodox natives of Istanbul left the city as a result.121 Most non-Muslims already had surnames and were thus not legally required to acquire them under the Surname Law of June 1934. Nevertheless, a significant proportion changed their surnames in order to avoid the social stigma of their nonMuslim status. In most cases, they either truncated their surnames to make them sound more Turkish or replaced them with direct Turkish translations.122 Article 40 of the Treaty of Lausanne guaranteed all non-Muslim minorities the “equal right to establish, manage and control at their own expense, any charitable, religious and social institutions, any schools and other establishments for instruction and education.” However, in June 1935, parliament passed a Vakıflar Kanunu, or “Law on Associations,” which prohibited the establishment of any organization or association representing an ethnic or religious minority.123 In August 1936, all nonMuslim minority foundations were required to submit a declaration to the authorities listing the movable and immovable properties that they owned.124 Although neither regulation prevented the foundations from operating, each increased the sense among the non-Muslim communities of being under siege from the state.

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In contrast, and despite conflicts between individual communities and the state (such as in Dersim in 1929–30), most Alevis appear to have welcomed the Kemalist regime. Provided that they identified themselves as Turks rather than Kurds, the state now treated Alevis as equals for the first time in their history. Not surprisingly, the Alevis appear to have been among the enthusiastic supporters of the increasing secularization of the state; even if the proscription of the tariqah in 1925 also meant that the Bektashi order, which included many Alevis, was now also officially banned. Particularly in the early years of the republic, there were also Turkish nationalists who sought to portray the Alevis as the repository of “Turkish national ideals,” as opposed to the “Arab internationalism” of Islam.125 In September 1926, an article in Türk Yurdu described the Bektashi order and Alevi gatherings at village level as preserving “the Turkish language, race, and blood.”126 In 1930, the Education Ministry published a collection of poems by 180 Bektashi poets edited by Sadettin Nüzhet Ergun (1901–46), a former Bektashi sheikh. Starting on 26 January 1931, the daily newspaper Yeni Gün ran a forty-part series about the Bektashi order written by one Ziya Bey, who was himself a former Bektashi. Ziya Bey maintained that the participation of both men and women in Bektashi rituals had its origins in Turkish national rites, which under the Ottomans had been forced underground by the patriarchalism of Sunni Muslim tradition. He concluded the series by arguing that the order had become redundant, as the government had now implemented the Bektashi’s primary objectives—including the abolition of the caliphate, the lifting of restraints on female participation in public life, and an end to the fanaticism of religious leaders.127 The identification of Alevism with “authentic Turkishness” never became part of mainstream Kemalist doctrine. Nevertheless, Ziya Bey’s assertion that the Bektashi order was now obsolete was characteristic of Kemalism’s monopolistic ambitions. In keeping with the general tenor of Young Turk thought, Kemalism saw the creation of a westernized elite as the locomotive for modernization. But the elite was to lead the masses, not develop in complete isolation from them. In a society in which the majority of the population was illiterate, Kemalism needed to supplement the press and educational system with additional vehicles for the dissemination of its core values. In 1931 the Turkish Hearths were absorbed into the CHF. They were replaced by the Halk Evleri, or “People’s Houses,” which served as centers for the dissemination of Kemalist values and the inculcation of Western culture. In addition to providing meeting places for the local populace, the People’s Houses hosted drama and music clubs, staged plays, provided access to sports facilities, libraries, and often even a small museum, and offered free courses in a range of subjects from learning to read and write to fine arts, language, and literature. The first fourteen People’s Houses were opened in February 1932. Another twenty were opened in June 1932. By the time they were finally closed down in 1951, there were 487 scattered throughout the country. There is little doubt that, by the time Mustafa Kemal died in 1938, the state’s campaign to “civilize” the population of the new republic had already radically changed both the appearance of towns and cities and the public social mores of


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their inhabitants. The patchwork of separate neighborhoods defined by religious belief, with houses clustered around mosques or churches, was giving way to new towns built around squares and municipal parks, with tea gardens and statues of Mustafa Kemal. Foreign visitors who traveled through Anatolia in the late 1930s remarked how a large proportion of the urban population had already adopted Western styles of dress, how rare it was to see anybody under the age of thirty performing Islamic prayers, how optimistic and forward-looking the younger generation appeared—and how dismissively disdainful they were of the “backward” peasantry who still lived on the land outside the urban oases of modernity.128 Yet, in terms of the distribution of its population, Turkey remained an overwhelmingly rural country. Although it would be a mistake to regard the entire rural population as completely untouched by the Kemalist values that were being so assiduously inculcated into the urban elite, they do not appear to have penetrated very deeply into the countryside; certainly not deeply enough to shake centuriesold beliefs and traditions. Nor had Kemalism destroyed the tariqah, which, though now operating in secret, continued to provide pious Muslims with the social networks needed to organize and coordinate their activities. It was rural religiosity and the survival of the tariqah that were to lead to the reemergence of Islam as a political force when, in the aftermath of World War II, Turkey began to move towards multiparty democracy.


4

The Reemergence of Islam

U

nder İsmet İnönü, who served as president from 1938 to 1950, the Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (Republican People’s Party or CHP) single-party regime initially attempted to broaden and intensify the inculcation of the basic principles of Mustafa Kemal’s interpretation of secular nationalism. A 1940 study by the General Directorate for Statistics found that 80 percent of the population of 17.8 million was illiterate. Nearly 40 percent of children of school age in towns were unable to read or write, a figure which rose to 78 percent in rural areas. Over 80 percent of the population was engaged in farming, but more than 31,000 of the approximately 40,000 villages in the country had no school of any kind. While only 46 percent of village schools had trained teachers. In April 1940, parliament passed a law to establish what were known as Köy Enstitütleri, or “Village Institutes.” A total of twenty-one of these Village Institutes were established throughout Turkey, each one serving three or four of the country’s provinces.1 They provided boys—and, to a lesser extent, girls—who had received the basic five years of elementary schooling in their villages with an additional fiveyear program, which combined academic subjects with practical training in skills that would be useful in the village. Graduates were sent to villages to serve as educators and reformers, disseminating both modern methods and techniques and the values of the new secular republic. In effect, the graduates of the institutes served as missionaries for the Kemalist regime as it sought to break the hold that Islam still had on rural life. In March 1939, the Justice Ministry issued a communiqué providing for the punishment of anyone who attempted to give lessons using the Arabic script. Two years later, in November 1941, lessons in the “History of the Turkish Revolution” and the “Turkish Republican Regime” became compulsory in all high schools. The authorities continued to persecute the tariqah, frequently raiding clandestine meetings and imprisoning those found guilty of participating in tariqah rituals. However, there were also signs that the government was now prepared to make some concessions to Islamic sentiments, provided that they did not entail the ceding of state control. For example, the official ceremony to mark the nationalization of the Istanbul tramway and subway in March 1939 included the Islamic tradition of the public sacrifice of sheep. In September 1939, the government initiated the

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translation of a thirteen-volume Encyclopedia of Islam. In January 1942, the government approved the publication of a new Turkish translation of the Qur’an. Similarly, Mustafa Kemal’s cultural policies were broadened and partially indigenized. In 1940 the government lifted the ban on the teaching of indigenous music at the Istanbul Conservatoire, which in May 1941 gave its first concert of traditional Turkish music.

The Treatment of Non-Muslims during World War II Although Turkey was theoretically a secular state, the government’s treatment of non-Muslims during World War II demonstrated that, in practice, Islam remained a prerequisite for acceptance as a full member of the Turkish nation. Throughout most of the war, Turkey pursued a policy of active neutrality,2 supplying Germany with the raw materials needed for its war effort while accepting military aid from the Allies. There is little doubt that, although many in the upper echelons of the CHP sympathized with the Allies, there were others for whom Nazi Germany’s emphasis on race as the basis of national identity held considerable appeal.3 The war years witnessed an increase in ultranationalist journals and magazines, many of which not only supported the Nazis but advocated the creation of a racially exclusive pan-Turkic empire. Following the Nazi rise to power in Germany in 1933, approximately 200 German academics took refuge in Turkey, where they were employed in the country’s universities. Many were Jewish. However, other Jews whose potential contribution to the Turkish state was less immediately obvious were less fortunate. In common with many other countries, during the early years of World War II, Turkey refused to accept Jewish citizens of other states who were attempting to flee persecution by the Nazis.4 There are examples of individual Turkish diplomats who took considerable risks to save the lives of several hundred Turkish Jews in Nazi-occupied Europe.5 However, recent research suggests that the Turkish government in Ankara knowingly abandoned thousands more, the majority of whom subsequently died in the concentration camps. At the outbreak of World War II, there were approximately 20,000 Jews from Turkey living in Europe, around half of them in France. Some had migrated during the final years of the Ottoman Empire, others during the early years of the republic. On 23 May 1927, the Turkish parliament passed Law No. 1041 on Turkish Citizenship, which gave the Council of Ministers the right to denaturalize any Turkish citizens who had not participated in the resistance of 1919–22 and had not subsequently returned to Turkey. During the 1920s and 1930s, Law No. 1041 was used primarily to strip non-Muslim exiles of their citizenship.6 When the Nazis began their preparations for the extermination of European Jewry, they compiled lists of the Jewish citizens of neutral countries who were located in territory under German control. In fall 1942 the lists were sent to the governments of the neutral countries and they were given a deadline of 31 December 1942 to repatriate their nationals or allow them to be “subjected to the general

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measures concerning Jews.” Turkish Jews who had already been deprived of their citizenship under Law No. 1041 were, together with other stateless Jews, among the first to be transported to the concentration camps. Germany was anxious not to alienate Turkey. When the Turkish authorities did not respond by the original deadline, the Nazis extended it to 31 December 1943; and later, in the case of the Turkish Jews in France, to 31 January 1944. The Turkish embassy in Paris did not respond until February 1943, when it declared that it recognized 631 out of a list of 3,000 Turkish Jews as its citizens. But it asked for transit visas to Turkey for just 114. It was only in spring 1944, when Germany was clearly heading for defeat, that Turkey bowed to international pressure and arranged for several hundred more Jews to be transported from France to Turkey. In fact, the Nazi lists appear to have triggered an acceleration in the pace with which non-Muslims were stripped of their Turkish citizenship. A total of 716 Turkish citizens were denaturalized in 1941 and a further 703 in 1942; in each case, the vast majority were non-Muslims. In 1943 the figure rose to 1,421, of whom 92 percent were Jews, almost all of them living in France. Only eight were Muslims. Another 605 Turkish citizens were denaturalized in 1944, of whom 83 percent were Jews, again almost all living in France.7 The increase in the denaturalization of Turkish non-Muslims outside the country coincided with an increase in official discrimination against those who were still living in Turkey. Although Turkey did not participate in the fighting, World War II brought shortages and economic hardship. In their search for scapegoats, many accused the country’s non-Muslim minorities of profiteering; although there is no evidence that they were any more or any less responsible than Muslims. There was a rapid rise in articles in the Turkish press attacking non-Muslims, often including crude caricatures taken directly from Nazi anti-Semitic propaganda. In May 1941, following a secret decision by the government, soldiers began rounding up all non-Muslim males born between 1894 and 1913 and conscripting them into military labor battalions. They were dressed in distinct uniforms and dispatched to camps in Anatolia, where they were used for hard labor such as stone breaking and road building. Conditions were poor and there were outbreaks of typhus. Other discriminatory measures followed. On 4 May 1942, all of the twentysix Jews working in the state-run news agency Anadolu Ajans (Anatolian Agency) were summarily dismissed. On 27 July 1942, for reasons which are still not clear, the government abruptly discharged the non-Muslim conscripts and allowed them to return to their homes.8 On 11 November 1942, the Turkish parliament passed a law providing for a one-off Varlık Vergisi, or “Asset Tax.” The law was drawn up by Prime Minister Şükrü Saraçoğlu (1887–1953). Its ostensible purpose was to combat profiteering and generate additional revenue for the overstretched central government budget. However, at a closed meeting of the CHP on 9 November 1942, Saraçoğlu was more candid. He described the Varlık Vergisi as an opportunity for Turks to gain their “economic independence.” He declared: “We shall get rid of the foreigners who control our market and deliver the Turkish market into the hands of Turks.”9 In theory, the tax was levied on all of the wealthier residents of Turkey. At the time, non-Muslims accounted for 1.5 percent of the total population of the country.

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But of the 62,575 individuals made liable for the tax, 87 percent were non-Muslims. Muslim Turks accounted for 7 percent and other categories, such as resident foreign nationals, the remaining 6 percent. Non-Muslims had to pay a rate ten times higher than that levied on Muslims. Non-Muslims also had to pay their entire assessments within one month, whereas Muslims were allowed to defer payment. There was no right of appeal. The result was to impoverish a substantial proportion of the non-Muslim population, who were forced to sell their assets to Muslims at a fraction of their real worth. Those who still could not meet their assessments were sent to labor camps to work off their debts to the state. Over 1,200 debtors were transported by train to a labor camp at Aşkale on the Anatolian steppes. Conditions were so bad that twenty-one died of hunger, illness, and cold. In September 1943, under pressure from Britain and the United States, the Turkish parliament voted to give the Finance Ministry the power to waive unpaid debts. In December 1943, the inmates of the camp at Aşkale were released. On 15 March 1944, parliament passed a law writing off any outstanding debts. But no attempt was made to compensate those who had already been ruined.

The Beginning of the Multiparty Era It is unclear whether the CHP ever had the support of the majority of the population. But there is no doubt that, by 1945, whatever popularity it had once enjoyed was waning. The already limited spending power of the bureaucratic urban class had been eroded by the inflation and high taxation of the war years. In the countryside, the once-remote state had become increasingly invasive, both through improved tax collection and through its educational initiatives; including the Village Institutes, which were often regarded as unnecessary intrusions into the measured pace of traditional rural life.10 While Atatürk’s secularizing reforms had severed the main emotional bond between rural Muslims and the state; namely, the sultan’s dual role as caliph and head of state.11 On 19 May 1945, in an attempt to defuse growing domestic discontent, İsmet İnonü issued a statement promising greater democratization.12 The authorities did not react when, on 7 July 1945, a leading Istanbul industrialist called Nuri Demirağ (1886–1957) applied to found an opposition political party. The Milli Kalkınma Partisi (National Development Party or MKP) was officially registered on 5 September 1945. On 1 November 1945, İnonü announced that opposition parties would be allowed to stand in the next general election. Other political parties followed. The most prominent was the Demokrat Partisi (Democrat Party or DP), which was founded on 7 January 1946 by a group of former members of the CHP. The DP was led by Celal Bayar (1883–1987), a former CHP prime minister, and Adnan Menderes (1899–1961), the son of a wealthy landowner from the province of Aydın on the Aegean coast. Initially, İnonü welcomed the establishment of the DP and even cooperated with Bayar during the founding of the party. However, he became alarmed by the rapidity with which it began to gather popular support. He called an early general election on 21 July 1946, before


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the DP was able to complete its nationwide organization. The CHP won a comfortable majority, taking 397 seats in the 465-member assembly. But even though it had only been able to field candidates in a little over half the 465 constituencies, the DP won sixty-one seats. Independents took the other seven seats.13 The NDP was unable to generate much popular support and failed to win any seats. The election results served as a warning to the CHP that it would need to be more responsive to public opinion if it was to retain its success at the next election, particularly as it was coming under attack from the DP for being “anti-Islamic.” At the CHP National Congress in November 1947, conservatives in the party called for a relaxation of restrictions on religious education, arguing that Islam would serve as a force for social cohesion and as a bulwark against the spread of communism. In February 1948 the CHP deputies in parliament agreed to allow optional religious education in schools, provided that it remained under strict state control. However, it was not until February 1949 that religious lessons were introduced into the syllabus for the last two years of elementary school. In 1948 parliament also agreed to find the necessary foreign currency to allow a small number of Turkish citizens to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. On 15 January 1949, the government introduced İmam Hatip Kursları, or “Imam Hatip Courses,” consisting of 10-month training courses for Islamic prayer leaders and preachers run by the Directorate General of Elementary Schools. On the following day, 16 January 1949, the new CHP chairman, Şemsettin Günaltay (1883–1961), a former professor of Islamic theology, was appointed prime minister. On 4 June 1949, parliament passed a law providing for the establishment of a Faculty of Theology at Ankara University, the first time such a faculty had been allowed since the 1936 closure of the Institute for Islamic Studies at the University of Istanbul. The CHP’s educational reforms were accompanied by a relaxation of the restrictions on religious instruction outside the state system. Members of the tariqah who had been providing clandestine Qur’an courses were now able to emerge into the open and expand their activities. The most prominent was a cemaat, or “community,” known as the Süleymancılar after their founder Süleyman Hilmi Tunahan (1888–1959), a religious scholar and member of the Naqshbandi order. Although it is doubtful whether the measures did much to boost the CHP’s standing in the country, they did at least allow the party to respond to the DP’s jibes. During a parliamentary debate on 10 June 1949, Prime Minister Günaltay angrily defended his party’s religious credentials, declaring: “I am head of the government which inaugurated the teaching of religion in elementary schools. I am the head of the government which inaugurated in this country İmam Hatip courses which teach Muslims how to pray and how to wash the dead. I am head of the government which opened a Faculty of Theology.”14 On 29 March 1950, the CHP restructured and expanded the Diyanet,15 appointing 941 new personnel. On the following day, it announced that it would restore access to the tombs of nineteen prominent Muslims, the first time they had been open to the public since November 1925. But there were limits to how the CHP was prepared to go. In June 1949, the government amended Article 163 of the Turkish Penal Code to introduce prison

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sentences of two to seven years for forming an organization or indulging in propaganda activities that sought the establishment of a government based on religious principles.16 The failure of Atatürk’s secularizing reforms to eradicate such sentiments was demonstrated by the reappearance during the 1940s of magazines and journals which advocated the establishment of a state based on Shari’a law. In 1943 the Naqshbandi poet Necip Fazıl Kısakürek (1904–83) began publishing the weekly Büyük Doğu, or the “Great East,” which called for the abolition of secularism, repeatedly praised the Ottoman sultans, and unfavorably compared what it portrayed as the moral decay of the West with the cultural superiority of the East.17 But the most influential was a periodical called Sebilürreşad, which was edited by Eşref Edib (1882–1971) and had first appeared in 1908. It was banned in the wake of the 1925 Sheikh Said rebellion, but reappeared in 1948 and remained one of the most vociferous critics of the secular regime until it finally closed down in 1963. Other explicitly Islamist political parties also began to emerge. Of the twentyfour political parties which were established in the period between 1945 and 1950, eight had an Islamist agenda. Both Nuri Demirağ’s MKP and the Sosyal Adalet Partisi (Social Justice Party or SAP), which had been formed in 1946, sought a global federation of all Muslims. However, most focused more on the protection of Islamic traditions and “national” values within Turkey. They included the Çiftci ve Köylü Partisi (Farmer’s and Peasant’s Party or ÇKP), the Arıtma Koruma Partisi (Purification Protection Party or AKP), the İslam Korunma Partisi (Party for the Protection of Islam or İKP), the Türk Muhafazakar Partisi (Turkish Conservative Party or TMP) and the Toprak, Emlak ve Serbest Teşebbüs Partisi (Land, Real Estate, and Free Enterprise Party or TESTP).18 However, when a general election was held on 14 May 1950, the only party with an explicitly Islamist agenda to win a seat in parliament was the Millet Partisi (Nation Party or MP), which had been established in 1948 by a group of conservatives who had broken away from the DP. They had appointed retired Field Marshal Fevzi Çakmak, who had served as the chief of staff from 1924–44, as the party’s honorary president. Çakmak had a reputation for personal piety and was known to be close to the Naqshbandi tariqah, although he had refrained from challenging the secularizing reforms during his term as chief of staff. The party’s election manifesto called for religious education in elementary and secondary schools, an end to state control of religious institutions, and a greater emphasis on Islamic values and traditions in social life.19 But Çakmak was already ailing and died in April 1950. Despite fielding candidates in twenty-two of the country’s sixty-three provinces, the MP won only 3.1 percent of the total vote in the following month’s elections and took just one seat in parliament, which had been expanded to 487 members. The CHP received 39.6 percent of the vote and sixty-nine seats. Independents took 0.6 percent and two seats. The clear winner of the elections was the DP, with 52.7 percent of the vote and 415 seats. The new parliament elected Celal Bayar as president in place of İnönü, who now became leader of the opposition as chairman of the CHP, and Adnan Menderes was appointed prime minister.


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The Democrat Party in Power, 1950–1960 In the years preceding the May 1950 election, the DP had built up an efficient nationwide organization, recruiting local dignitaries and rural landlords who brought with them not only large numbers of votes but also the system of patronage and loyalty that dominated rural relations. As a result, the DP became a network of clientelistic hierarchies, in which favor and largesse were distributed to individuals and communities in return for electoral support. Unlike the CHP, which tended to be associated with the Kemalist state elite, the DP also successfully projected an image of being a party of the people, willing and able to respond not just to the material but also to the spiritual needs of the masses. It was committed to supporting private enterprise and giving priority to the agricultural sector. Few doubted that it was more well-disposed towards Islam than the CHP. Yet, in the run-up to the May 1950 election, the DP consistently rejected CHP accusations that it was an Islamist party. There was virtually no mention of Islam in the party’s election manifesto and the party leaders repeated publicly reaffirmed their dedication to secularism. However, when Menderes presented the new government’s program to parliament, he declared that the DP would respect freedom of conscience, which was understood as shorthand for Islamic piety. He also pledged that the government would preserve those Kemalist reforms which had been internalized by the people; which clearly implied that others could be amended or abolished.20 The first DP government was formally established on 2 June 1950. Three days later, Menderes announced that its first act would be to abolish Ataturk’s 1932 ban on the recitation of the adhan in Arabic. Despite intense criticism both in parliament and the Kemalist press, when the motion was presented to parliament it was passed unanimously; with even the CHP deputies not daring to oppose something which they knew had the support of the majority of the population. If the effect of the CHP’s concessions to Islam in the late 1940s had been gradual and limited, the impact of the lifting of the ban on the Arabic adhan was immediate and pervasive; ensuring that the DP’s commitment to the protection of religious values physically resonated with anyone within earshot of a mosque. In July 1950 the DP government lifted the ban on religious programming on the state-run radio, allowing studios in Istanbul and Ankara to begin broadcasting short readings from the Qur’an in Arabic. In November 1950 the Council of Ministers formally included the teaching of Sunni Islam in the elementary school curriculum. In theory, the lessons were still voluntary and parents could submit a written request asking for their children to be excused. In practice, very few did. In January 1951 the DP announced that it would replace the İmam Hatip courses initiated by the CHP with fully fledged İmam Hatip schools. In October 1951 seven İmam Hatip schools were opened in different provincial centers across Turkey. Each was divided into two sections: a four-year middle school with an emphasis on culture and a three-year high school which concentrated primarily on vocational skills. However, an İmam Hatip school graduate was considered to have received

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the equivalent of only an elementary school diploma. It was only in 1971 that their status was upgraded to the equivalent of an ordinary middle school. By 1958, when the first 193 students graduated, the number of İmam Hatip schools had risen to nineteen and the number of students to 3,476. A large proportion of the students were the children of first-generation migrants from the countryside. Nearly one million peasants are estimated to have migrated from the countryside to the cities of western Turkey in the period between 1950 and 1955, bringing with them the traditions and attitudes of the countryside. Most came from Central Anatolia and the Black Sea region. Many settled on the outskirts of Istanbul, Ankara, and Izmir, forming the first of the squatter neighborhoods known as gecekondu, meaning “put down by night,” which soon came to surround all of Turkey’s major cities. The DP also scaled back the inculcation of Kemalist doctrines. The Village Institutes had proved more successful at imbuing their students with Kemalist values than the students had been at inculcating the same values into the rural masses. When they returned to the countryside, the graduates of the Village Institutes were often regarded not as models to be emulated but as unwelcome outsiders attempting to impose alien ideas.21 Perhaps not surprisingly given the extent of rural poverty at the time, many of the graduates developed left-wing sympathies and became objects of suspicion not only to the villagers but also to the state. During the late 1940s, accusations that the Village Institutes were serving as breeding grounds for communism severely restricted their growth. When it came to power, the DP steadily curtailed the institutes’ activities before closing them down completely in 1953. As soon as it took power, the DP began to increase the funding of the Diyanet. Between 1950 and 1951, the Diyanet budget increased from 2.9 million Turkish Lira to 7.8 million Turkish Lira, and its share in the overall state budget tripled from 0.2 percent to 0.6 percent. The DP also embarked on a mosque-building campaign. In the period 1950– 1960, a total of 15,000 new mosques were built in Turkey—the equivalent of more than four new mosques each day. Many were built by the Diyanet, although others were financed by donations and charitable organizations set up for the purpose. In addition, the Diyanet financed the restoration and reopening of 616 historical mosques and Islamic shrines.22 The mosque-building campaign increased the demand for religious personnel to far in excess of the number that could be trained in the still relatively small number of İmam Hatip schools. The shortfall was covered by graduates of Qur’an courses run by the tariqah, particularly the Süleymancılar. The first Qur’an course run by the Süleymancılar to be officially recognized by the state was opened in the Üsküdar neighborhood of Istanbul in 1952. Others soon followed throughout the country. But relations with the state were often ambivalent. It was not unusual for the teachers of the courses to be investigated and interrogated on suspicion of violating Article 163 of the Penal Code. Nevertheless, the number of Qur’an courses run by the Süleymancılar continued to grow, reaching seventy at the end of 1956 and approximately 1,000 by 1959.23 The 1950s also witnessed a proliferation of Islamist publications and a rapid rise in the number of religious organizations and foundations. In the period between


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1946 and 1950, the number of private organizations in Turkey rose from 814 to 2,023, while the number that had been established for a religious purpose grew from eleven (1.3 percent of the total) to 154 (7.1 percent). However, by 1955 there were 5,799 private organizations in the country, of which 1,088 (15.8 percent) had a religious purpose. By 1960, the figures stood at 12,034 and 5,104 respectively.24 In addition to allowing the tariqah to operate more freely, the DP actively courted Islamists with a substantial popular following. The most prominent was an ethnic Kurd called Said Nursi (1876–1960). As a young man, Nursi had been deeply influenced by the tariqah without ever formally attaching himself to a specific order. He had been a member of the İttihad-i Muhammedi Cemiyeti (Society for Muslim Unity or İMC), although he was acquitted by the subsequent courtsmartial of active involvement in the insurrection of 13 April 1909. After World War I, Nursi had supported the resistance organization before breaking with Mustafa Kemal over his secularizing agenda, bitterly condemning the “Europe-worshipping imitators of Frankish customs who are detaching themselves from Islam.”25 In 1925, Nursi was arrested on suspicion of involvement in the Sheikh Said Revolt and sent into internal exile in western Anatolia.26 For the next 25 years he continued to be harassed and sometimes prosecuted by the authorities, occasionally serving short terms in prison. He was a prolific writer, producing numerous pamphlets, letters, and brochures, many of which were collected in what became known as the Risale-i Nur, or “Epistles of Light”; in what appears to be an echo of the İMC’s goal of spreading the nur, or “divine light,” throughout the Ottoman Empire. The main themes of the Risale-i Nur are the defense of Islam against positivism and an attempt to prove that the Qur’an is compatible with modern science. Nursi argued that any apparent contradictions were the product of a superficial or erroneous understanding of the text of the Qur’an. He maintained that, through careful study, the Qu’ran could be mined for multiple layers of meaning and, if necessary, much of it effectively reinterpreted in accordance with changes in the prevailing historical context. To outsiders, Nursi’s reasoning often appears oblique to the point of obfuscation. However, to his followers, the difficulty of his writings is evidence of their complexity and profundity as they draw the reader deeper into the text. Nursi’s initial goal was the internal transformation of the individual as the first step in a three-stage process, which was to be followed by the implementation of faith in everyday life before culminating in the restoration of the Shari’a.27 Although the CHP banned the Risale-i Nur, persecution appears to have enhanced rather than diminished Nursi’s reputation; and his relative isolation in internal exile merely intensified his mystique. He gradually built up a network of followers who would distribute handwritten copies of the Risale-i Nur and meet to discuss them in secret study groups. Unlike the traditional tariqah, which were highly institutionalized around an esoteric oral tradition, what became known as the Nurcu movement remained both relatively loosely structured and resolutely text-oriented. Nursi’s followers included a small number of women, whom Nursi appears to have regarded as potentially intellectually equal, but socially subordinate, to men.28

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At the time of the 1950 election, Nursi was being held in preventive detention in the western Anatolian city of Denizli. When it came to power, the DP announced an amnesty and Nursi was released. He quickly became an outspoken supporter of the DP and even met with Menderes. When fresh elections were called for 2 May 1954, Nursi explicitly instructed his followers to vote for the DP “in the interests of the Qur’an.”29 Yet the DP’s willingness to court Islamist sentiments stopped well short of a radical revision of Atatürk’s secularizing reforms. There was no attempt to revive the office of the sheikhulislam. Islamic clergy continued to be employed as civil servants and all pious foundations remained under state control. Nor did the DP seek to repeal any of the legal codes introduced by Atatürk and replace them with the Shari’a. Although there is little doubt that Atatürk would have been appalled by the party’s policies, the DP was always sensitive to suggestions that it was failing to protect his legacy. When a religious order known as the Ticani began to desecrate statues and busts of Atatürk, the DP rigorously pursued the offenders. Several members of the order were sentenced to lengthy prison terms and its leader, Kemal Pilavoğlu (1906–77), was condemned to fifteen years in prison, followed by a lifetime of confinement on the island of Bozcaada. In response to the attacks by the Ticani, on 27 July 1951 the DP passed Law No. 5816 on Crimes against Atatürk, which provided for a prison sentence of up to three years for denigrating Atatürk’s memory and up to five years for defacing a statue, bust, or portrait of him.30 The DP also presided over the final stages of the construction of Atatürk’s mausoleum complex, Anıtkabir, in the center of Ankara. Anıtkabir took nine years to complete. Atatürk’s remains were transferred from their temporary resting place at Ankara’s Museum of Ethnography to Anıtkabir on 10 November 1953, the fifteenth anniversary of his death. The DP also reacted promptly to accusations that the MP was preparing to adopt a more radical, anti-secularist agenda. At the party’s Fifth National Congress on 27–29 June, 1953, MP Chairman Yusuf Hikmet Bayur (1891–1980) and some forty of his supporters resigned, accusing their party colleagues of being opposed to the Kemalist Revolution.31 A judicial investigation was initiated and on 8 July 1953 the party was forbidden to engage in political activity. On 9 July 1953, more than 2,000 of its branches were closed and the party’s assets seized. The MP itself was formally closed on 27 January 1954. Some of the DP’s opponents claimed that the move was motivated by a desire to monopolize the religious vote. However, the MP does not appear to have represented a genuine electoral threat. On 23 July 1953, the DP introduced the Vicdan ve Toplanma Hürriyetinin Korunması Kanunu, or the “Law on the Protection of Freedom of Conscience and Assembly,” which provided for prison sentences of one to five years for anyone found guilty of exploiting religion for political purposes through propaganda or indoctrination. The law was not repealed until 12 April 1991. In the general election of 2 May 1954, boosted by several years of strong economic growth and rising living standards, the DP increased its vote to 58.4 percent and won 503 seats in parliament, which had been expanded to 541 members. The CHP received 35.1 percent, giving it 31 seats. The Cumhuriyetçi Millet Partısı (Republican National Party or CMP), which had been established by the liberal


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wing of the banned MP, took 5.3 percent and five seats. Independents received 0.6 percent and two seats. For the next three years, religion slipped down the domestic political agenda. Its confidence boosted by its landslide election victory, the DP appears no longer to have felt obliged to demonstrate its Islamic credentials. For similar reasons, there appeared little for the handful of CHP deputies to gain by questioning the DP’s commitment to secularism. However, when the opportunity arose, the DP had no hesitation in trying to exploit popular anti-Muslim prejudices to boost its domestic standing. During the early 1950s, the Greek Cypriot movement for the enosis, or “unification,” of the British colony of Cyprus with mainland Greece steadily gained in strength. Enosis was opposed not only by Turkish Cypriots but by nationalists inside Turkey, many of whom still refused to accept the annexation of the island by the British during World War I. In October 1954, Menderes encouraged the establishment of an organization called the Kıbrıs Türk’tur Cemiyeti (Cyprus is Turkish Association or KTC) to mobilize domestic Turkish public opinion against enosis.32 Although it was theoretically an independent civil organization, in practice the leadership of the KTC worked closely with both the DP and nationalist elements in the state security apparatus. On 29 August 1955, representatives of Britain, Greece, and Turkey met in London to discuss the future status of Cyprus. In early September 1955, with the negotiations still continuing, the DP attempted to reinforce Turkey’s position by demonstrating the strength of Turkish public opinion. Working with elements in the Turkish security apparatus, the government decided to provoke an anti-Greek riot in Istanbul. On 4 September 1955, members of the KTC staged a demonstration in Taksim Square in the center of Istanbul, at which they burned Greek language newspapers. On the night of 6 September 1955 agents working for Turkish intelligence detonated a small explosive device in the compound of the Turkish Consulate in Salonica, next to the house in which Atatürk is believed to have been born. There were no casualties and the damage was limited to a few shattered windows. Nevertheless, on the morning of 6 September 1955, the state-controlled news agency Anadolu Ajans announced that the Greeks had bombed Atatürk’s house in Salonica. At 13.00 the news was broadcast on Turkish state radio. That afternoon, the pro-DP boulevard newspaper İstanbul Ekspres published two special editions, each with banner headlines and lurid details of what it claimed was the extensive damage to Atatürk’s birthplace. The paper quoted KTC General Secretary Kamil Önal as warning: “We see nothing wrong in declaring publicly that shall make those who lay their hands on what is sacred to us pay dearly for their actions.”33 By late afternoon a large crowd had gathered in Taksim Square close to Beyoğlu, the Istanbul neighborhood where the majority of Turkey’s non-Muslims lived. The first attacks on non-Muslim property started in the early evening. What started as a riot quickly turned into a pogrom, which spread throughout the city and lasted deep into the night.34 Stores and houses were ransacked. Any non-Muslims who could be found were attacked. It was five hours before the security forces made a concerted attempt to curb the carnage.35 Some non-Muslims managed to flee.

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Others were hidden and protected by their Muslim neighbors. At least eleven non-Muslims were killed and several hundred more injured. An unknown number of women were raped, with one hospital alone treating sixty cases.36 A subsequent Turkish judicial enquiry found that 5,622 properties were wholly or partly destroyed, including 4,214 stores, 1,004 residential dwellings, 73 churches, and 26 schools.37 Significantly, even though the ostensible cause of the pogrom was nationalist in nature, the main criterion used by the mob in selecting its targets was religion. Although the Greek Orthodox community suffered the most, foreign diplomatic sources estimated that around one third of all the properties attacked belonged to Armenians or Jews.38 There is little doubt that the extent of the pogrom far exceeded the expectations of those responsible for the bombing in Salonica. Martial law was declared in Istanbul and the KTC was immediately closed down.39 In January 1956, 228 people were found guilty of charges such as theft, looting, and destruction of property during the pogrom. None received a lengthy custodial sentence. A court case against seventeen members of the KTC continued for another year. By the time they were all acquitted for lack of evidence on 24 January 1957, none of those originally arrested on charges related to the pogrom remained in custody. In addition to the physical damage, the events of 6–7 September 1955 had a devastating psychological impact on the non-Muslim minorities in Turkey. To many, it was the final proof that non-Muslims were at best unwelcome and at worst in danger of their lives. Emigration began to gather pace. Those who remained in Turkey developed a siege mentality that has persisted to the present day. But by the time the leaders of the KTC were acquitted, for most Muslims, the focus of Turkish domestic politics had already moved on. In September 1957, the DP announced that elections would be held on 27 October 1957, six months ahead of schedule. After the boom of the DP’s first term, since 1954 the pace of economic growth had begun to slow and prices to rise. The DP tried to stifle criticism by tightening its control over the press, while boosting its flagging popularity by actively appealing to religious sentiments. The leaflets distributed by the DP during the 1957 election campaign carried photographs of mosques. Some imams actively campaigned for the DP. While party officials accused the CHP of being full of communists and unbelievers. In his campaign speeches, Menderes quoted passages from the Qur’an and praised his government’s mosque program and the lifting on the ban of the Arabic adhan, while accusing the CHP of neglecting Islam during its term in office. CHP Chairman İnönü responded by attacking the DP for attempting to exploit Islam for political gain. Others in his party were more pragmatic and attempted to outflank the DP. During the election campaign, party secretary Kasım Gülek (1905–96) claimed that the party had transformed the country through its support of Islam; and former Prime Minister Şemsettin Günaltay noted, a little more realistically, that in the late 1940s it had been the CHP which had been the first to relax the rigid secularism of the 1930s. When the elections were held on 27 October 1957, the DP won only 48.6 percent of the vote—down nearly 10 percentage points on 1954 but still enough to


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give it 424 of the 610 seats in parliament. The CHP increased its vote to 41.4 percent and took 178 seats. The CMP won four seats with 6.5 percent. The Hürriyet Partisi (Freedom Party or HP), which had been established in December 1955 by some former members of the DP who had left the party in protest at its growing authoritarianism,40 also took four seats in parliament, albeit with just 3.5 percent. The decline in the DP’s popularity alarmed the party’s leadership, which became even more intolerant of criticism and increasingly anxious to boost its religious credentials. On 17 February 1959, a plane carrying Menderes to Britain crashed close to London’s Gatwick Airport. Fourteen of the twenty-one people on board were killed, although Menderes himself walked away unharmed. The accident was immediately exploited by the DP as proof of divine providence. Throughout Turkey, local branches of the party organized readings from the Qur’an and sacrificed sheep to express their gratitude to God for saving Menderes’s life. At a DP congress in the city of Adana, one of the delegates solemnly declared that the crash proved that Menderes had been sent to lead Turkey by God and the Prophet Muhammad.41 Throughout the remainder of the 1959, the DP actively cultivated the image of Menderes as the divinely anointed leader of the country. The party also intensified its contacts with Islamist activists, particularly Said Nursi. Though now in declining health, Nursi paid a series of visits to Ankara in late 1959 and early 1960. He met with several leading members of the DP, including Menderes, and urged them to adopt a more explicitly Islamist agenda.42 In 1959 the DP established a Yüksek İslam Enstitüsü, or “Higher Institute of Islam,” at Istanbul University. But the DP appears to have been more concerned with courting the religious vote than introducing Islamist policies. Nor was Menderes prepared to rely solely on divine assistance in order to remain in power. Through 1959 and into early 1960, the DP became even more authoritarian, tightening press censorship and attempting to curb the activities of the CHP. On 18 April 1960, the DP deputies in parliament announced the establishment of a commission to investigate the CHP and report on its findings within three months. In the meantime, all political activity outside parliament would be banned and newspapers were forbidden even to report on debates inside the assembly. The DP’s increasing authoritarianism galvanized the Turkish military. Through the 1950s, many in the Turkish military had been alarmed by what they regarded as the DP’s erosion of Atatürk’s secularist legacy. Although Atatürk had removed the military as an institution from the political arena, many in the officer corps still regarded themselves as the guardians of the nation. Nor were they alone. Atatürk had attempted to inculcate a close identification between the Turkish nation and its army through the educational system. The Turkish History Thesis claimed that soldiering had been the defining national characteristic—almost the natural state—of the Turkish nation throughout history. Perhaps more importantly, the introduction of compulsory universal military service in 1927 provided the military with an educational and “civilizing” role. Given the still very limited access to formal education, there is little doubt that, through the 1940s and 1950s, military service played a greater role than the school system in shaping the characters and attitudes of the mass of the male population of

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Turkey. Military service became a rite of passage for young males and the military itself became referred to as “a school.” As a result, even though it was not always regarded with affection, the military enjoyed considerable public respect; and it was this respect that provided the military with a social platform from which it could exercise political leverage. The DP had also allowed the salaries and working conditions of the officer corps to deteriorate, while frequently interfering in military postings and promotions. Since Turkey had joined the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) on 18 February 1952, Turkish officers had begun to travel abroad to attend training courses. Many were appalled by the contrast between the attitudes of governments in their host countries and what they regarded as the unprincipled behavior of the DP in Turkey; and humiliated by the financial difficulties they faced in surviving on their meagre allowances.43 On 25 May 1960, Menderes announced that the commission investigating the CHP had completed its work ahead of schedule and was ready to release its findings. Few expected the commission to clear the CHP of any wrongdoing. Early in the morning of 27 May 1960, the military seized control of all government buildings in Ankara and Istanbul and arrested all of the leading members of the DP, including Menderes and President Bayar. The military announced that it had seized power in order to enable free and fair elections to be held as soon as possible. General Cemal Gürsel (1895–1966), a recently retired former commander of the Land Forces, was appointed prime minister and chairman of a Milli Birlik Komitesi (National Unity Committee or MBK), which was to oversee the administration of the country pending the return to civilian rule. On 14 October 1960, 592 people associated with the DP regime went on trial on the island of Yassıada in the Sea of Marmara on charges ranging from corruption to murder and violating the constitution. After a trial lasting eleven months, thirty-one of the accused received life sentences and 418 were given prison terms ranging from six months to twenty years. Fifteen were condemned to death, of whom twelve had their sentences commuted; including President Bayar, who was spared on account of his age. However, the death sentences on three of the most prominent members of the DP were upheld. Former foreign minister Fatin Rüştü Zorlu (born 1910) and former finance minister Hasan Polatkan (born 1915) were hanged on 16 September 1961. Menderes was hanged on 17 September 1961.

The Second Republic The coup was largely welcomed by supporters of the CHP, particularly in the cities, where there were even celebrations on the streets. The reaction was more muted in the villages and small towns of Anatolia, where the coup was greeted with stoical acceptance rather than outright opposition. Many appear to have seen it not so much as an intervention by the army as the return to power of the Kemalist elite which had ruled the country during the single-party era. On 14 June 1960, the military junta promulgated what became known as Temporary Law No. 1, which both defined the legal status of the MBK and committed it


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to formulating a new constitution prior to the restoration of civilian rule. It accused the DP of “establishing a single-party dictatorship”44 and justified the military intervention by citing Article 34 of the Turkish Armed Forces Internal Service Law No. 2771 of 1935, which stated: “The duty of the Turkish Armed Forces is to protect and preserve the Turkish homeland and the Turkish Republic as defined in the constitution.”45 On 29 September 1960, the junta formally dissolved the DP. But the return to civilian rule was delayed by divisions within the MBK and disagreements over the content of the new constitution. On 13 November 1960, Gürsel purged the MBK of fourteen radical officers who were suspected of favoring a sustained period of military rule and the authoritarian inculcation of Kemalist values to “save the nation from schism, backwardness, laziness and darkness.”46 The new constituion was not put to a referendum until 9 July 1961, when it was approved by 61.7 percent to 38.3 percent. 47 The 1961 constitution introduced a bicameral parliament with a National Assembly and a second chamber known as the Senate, both of which had to approve any legislation. Elections for the National Assembly were still to be held every four years, but a simple majority system was replaced by party-list proportional representation on a province-wide basis using the d’Hondt system. Under the 1924 constitution, the president had been chosen by parliament for a renewable four-year term. This was now replaced by a single, non-renewable, seven-year term. The new constitution also introduced an independent constitutional court and guarantees of autonomy for universities, the judiciary, and the press, together with extensive civil liberties for individual Turkish citizens. Article 19 of the constitution guaranteed freedom of conscience and religious belief and the right to: “worship and conduct religious rites and ceremonies provided that they are not incompatible with public order, public morality or the laws promulgated to this effect.”48 The same article provided for freedom of religious education according to the wishes of those concerned or their legal guardians. But Article 19 also reinforced Article 163 of the Turkish Penal Code by explicitly prohibiting the exploitation of religion for political ends, stating: “Those who violate this prohibition, or incite others to do so, will be punished according to the law: associations will be permanently closed down by the authorized courts, political parties by the Constitutional Court.”49 Even before the new constitution had been approved by referendum, the junta promulgated a new Turkish Armed Forces Internal Service to replace Law No. 2771 of 1935. Law No. 211 of 4 January 1961 was essentially the same as its predecessor. Most importantly, Article 34 of Law No. 2771, which had been used to justify the 1960 coup, was incorporated verbatim as Article 35 of Law No. 211.50 One of the junta’s first acts after seizing power was to try to curb the growing strength of the Nurcu movement. Said Nursi had died on 23 March 1960 and had been buried in the southeastern town of Urfa. In early July 1960, Nursi’s remains were disinterred and reburied at a secret location in order to prevent his grave from becoming a place of pilgrimage. The junta made no attempt to reverse the changes introduced by the DP and re-impose the strict interpretation of secularism that had been applied during the

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single-party era. However, the 1961 constitution did provide the military with an institutional platform which it could use to try to ensure that the policies of future governments remained within acceptable parameters. Article 111 of the constitution provided for the creation of a Milli Güvenlik Kurulu (National Security Council or MGK) to coordinate and assist with political decisions related to national security.51 The MGK was composed of five civilians and five members of the military.52 Meetings were to be held at least once a month and be chaired by the president. The Council of Ministers was obliged to consider any recommendations forwarded to it by the MGK, although there was no requirement to implement them. However, in practice, the MGK institutionalized the Turkey military’s self-appointed role as the guardian not only of national security but also of Atatürk’s ideological legacy. In February 1961, former supporters of the DP established two new parties: the Adalet Partisi (Justice Party or AP) and the Yeni Türkiye Partisi (New Turkey Party or YTP). However, the AP rapidly came to be regarded by both its supporters and its opponents as the main heir to the DP. In the election of 15 October 1961, the CHP took 36.7 percent of the vote and 173 seats in the 450-member National Assembly. Despite having had only eight months to establish a nationwide organization, the AP finished a close second, with 34.8 percent of the vote and 158 seats. The YTP won 13.7 percent and 65 seats. The conservative Cumhuriyetçi Köylü Millet Partisi (Republican Peasants’ National Party or CKMP)53 took 14.0 percent of the vote and 54 seats. The result demonstrated both the resilience of the former DP vote and the continuing conservatism of the Turkish electorate. The parties established by former DP supporters won 48.5 percent of the total vote. Even though religion played little part in the election campaign, 62.5 percent of the electorate voted for parties which were regarded as having conservative, pro-religious agendas. The election was a disappointment to the military. Some officers briefly considered staging a second coup. They only refrained from doing so when the high command succeeded in brokering an agreement between İnönü and Ragıp Gümüşpala (1897–1964), the chairman of the AP,54 to form a coalition government under İnönü as prime minister.55 The CHP-AP coalition soon foundered, primarily over calls by the AP for an amnesty for those members of the DP still being held in prison. On 24 June 1962, İnönü formed a tripartite coalition government with the YTP and CKMP, which lasted until 2 December 1963. On 25 December 1963, İnönü formed a minority goverment, which remained in office until 13 February 1965. It was replaced by a caretaker administration headed by Suat Hayri Ürgüplü (1903–81), an independent deputy and former diplomat, which took the country through to fresh elections on 10 October 1965. Although interparty rivalry was often acrimonious, religion rarely featured as an issue of debate between the political parties. The CHP-led governments continued to build new mosques at around 1,500 per year—the same rate as the DP—and opened another seven İmam Hatip schools, taking the total to twenty-six. The 1962–63 tripartite coalition included a commitment to raising the level of education in the İmam Hatip schools in its program; although it stressed that the aim


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was to produce “enlightened men of religion,”56 which was Kemalist shorthand for those committed to Atatürk’s secularizing reforms. The CHP-led governments also increased the share of the Diyanet in the total government budget from 0.76 percent in 1961 to the admittedly still small 0.90 percent in 1964. On 11 June 1965, Ürgüplü’s caretaker government attempted to strengthen the state’s control over the practice of Islam by promulgating Law No. 633 on the Establishment and Duties of the Directorate for Religious Affairs, which was the first comprehensive statutory description of the Diyanet’s role and responsibilities. Previously, anyone wishing to be employed as a Muslim cleric merely had to pass the Diyanet entrance examination. As a result, a large proportion of the clergy were graduates not of the state-run İmam Hatip schools but of the Qur’an courses run by the tariqah; over which the state had little control and which some feared were being used to inculcate a radical, anti-secular version of Islam. At the time Law No. 633 was passed, the Süleymancılar alone were running approximately 3,000 Qur’an courses in Turkey. Law No. 633 maintained the Diyanet’s monopoly over the employment of Muslim clergy in the country and required all full-time clergy to be graduates of an İmam Hatip school, Theology Faculty, or Higher Institute of Islam. The 1961 Constitution had reaffirmed the secular nature of the Turkish state (Article 2) and the equality of all Turkish citizens regardless of belief (Article 11), but Article 1 of Law No. 633 stated: “The Directorate for Religious Affairs has been established subordinate to the Prime Ministry to manage all affairs related to the beliefs, worship and moral principles of the religion of Islam, to enlighten society on the subject of religion and to administer places of worship.”57 There was no provision for members of any other faith except Islam, which was generally understood to be Sunni Islam. This was welcomed by the members of Turkey’s dwindling non-Muslim communities as it meant that what took place inside their places of worship remained free of state interference. But the same could not be said for the considerably more numerous Alevis, whose taxes helped finance the Diyanet but who were still regarded by the majority of Sunni Muslims as heretics. The Diyanet provided the Alevis with neither funding nor services. The state continued to refuse to recognize a cem evi as a place of worship and frequently tried to close them down.

Populist Conservatism: The AP in Power In the run-up to the elections of 10 October 1965, religion reemerged as one of the main instruments of interparty competition. Following the death of Gümüşpala in June 1964, the AP was now led by Süleyman Demirel (born 1924). Unlike the other party leaders of the Republican period, who tended to be drawn from either the military-bureaucratic or landowning elite, Demirel was the son of poor peasants from the western Anatolian province of Isparta. After training as a civil engineer, he served as director general of the State Hydraulic Works from 1955 to 1960, overseeing the building of a series of dams and power plants. After the 1960 coup, Demirel entered the private sector and built up a successful construction business.

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Demirel’s humble origins made him the first party political leader with whom the rural masses could personally identify, and his subsequent successful career was something to which many aspired. AP propaganda reinforced Demirel’s identification with the values of the conservative masses by noting that his father had made the pilgrimage to Mecca, that the Qur’an had been read daily at home when he was a child, and that he had been born in the village of İslamköy, which in Turkish means “Village of Islam.” Demirel also spoke the language of the masses. Although intellectuals often sneered at Demirel’s blunt, homily filled oratorical style, there is little doubt that it resonated with his audiences as he traveled the country addressing political rallies in town and village squares. The October 1965 elections were the first in which the left–right divide became a significant issue in Turkish politics. In order to try to shake off its image as a party of the military-bureaucratic elite, the CHP campaigned on an explicitly center-left manifesto. In addition, an avowedly socialist party, the Türkiye İşçi Partisi (Turkish Labor Party or TİP), fielded candidates in a Turkish election for the first time. Over the years that followed, a party’s attitude towards Islam became closely associated with its position on the political spectrum; with right-wing parties stressing their Islamic credentials and frequently accusing their left-wing rivals of atheistic communistic sympathies, and left-wing parties either downplaying the issue of religion or being outspokenly secularist. The 1965 elections were a resounding triumph for the AP, which won 52.9 percent of the total vote and took 240 of the 450 seats in parliament. In comparison, the CHP won just 28.7 percent and 134 seats. The MP, which had been re-established in June 1962 by dissidents who had broken away from the CKMP, took 6.3 percent and thirty-one seats. The CKMP itself won 2.2. percent and eleven seats. While the YTP took 3.7 percent and nineteen seats and the TİP 3.0 percent and fourteen seats. There was also one independent member of parliament. Although Demirel had secured the backing of the majority of the Turkish electorate, his position within the AP was less secure. Many in the party initially regarded him as a stop-gap leader who would step down when the remainder of the still-imprisoned members of the DP were eventually released. In order both to preserve party unity and consolidate its support in the country as a whole, Demirel repeatedly emphasized the AP’s credentials as the defender of traditional Islamic values and simultaneously played up the alleged threat from communism. He openly associated with leaders of the Nurcu movement and, in cooperation with elements in the security forces, harassed and persecuted left-wing sympathizers.58 The AP also actively supported organizations such as the Komünizmle Mücadele Derneği (Association for the Struggle against Communism or KMD) which grew from twenty-seven branches in 1965 to 141 by 1968 and frequently became involved in street clashes with leftist organizations.59 The AP government oversaw a massive increase in the number of İmam Hatip schools. In the period between 1966 and 1968, the AP opened three more Higher Institutes of Islam and forty-three new İmam Hatip schools; compared with a total of twenty-six that had been opened in the previous fifteen years. The number of students at the İmam Hatip schools rose from 13,500 in the 1965–66 academic year to 41,300 in 1968–69. Although Law No. 633 had increased the need for İmam


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Hatip graduates, by the end of the 1968–69 year the İmam Hatip schools were producing far in excess of the annual intake of the Diyanet. It was clear that they were no longer simply vocational schools but were being chosen by parents who wanted their children to receive a religious education. The rising demand for religious education was partly fuelled by another wave of internal migration. Approximately 1,950,000 peasants are estimated to have moved from the countryside to the city in the period between 1965 and 1970. This demographic shift also helped stimulate a proliferation of affordable religious literature and the development of a distinct Islamic popular culture. The state-owned Türkiye Radyo Televizyon (Turkish Radio and Television or TRT) only began test television transmissions on 31 January 1968. Coverage was limited and television sets so expensive that it was many years before they became common in Turkish homes. However, in the late 1960s there were more than 2,200 cinemas in Turkey. In 1965 the director Muharrem Gürses (1915–99) made a film called Hazreti Yusuf ’un Hayatı, or “The Life of the Prophet Yahya,” based on references in the Qur’an to the figure known in Christianity as John the Baptist. It was so successful that it inspired a string of other films on religious themes. Most were based on the lives of mystics, saints, prophets, and pilgrims. In 1970, Yücel Çakmaklı (born 1937) made the first attempt to address the role of Islamic values, traditions, and lifestyles in contemporary Turkish life with Birleşen Yollar, or “The Merging Ways.” The film sought to show not only how happiness and inner peace lay in internalizing Islamic values but how adherence to Sunni Islam had become an integral part of what it meant to be Turkish. Birleşen Yollar had a huge impact and inaugurated a new movement called milli sinema, or “national cinema,” in which nationalistic and religious themes became inextricably entwined. Urbanization also brought Alevis into the cities. In the countryside, the Alevis had lived in scattered, and mostly relatively isolated, communities. Local religious leaders were often in contact with each other, but the Alevis never had a single centralized organizational structure. Similarly, although certain beliefs were shared by virtually all Alevis—such as the veneration of Ali—there were numerous localized variations in terms of beliefs, rites, and traditions. It was only in the late 1960s, as increasing numbers migrated to the cities, that Alevis first began to try to establish organizations that represented the community as a whole. In fall 1966, some Alevi politicians attempted to form an Alevi political party. The Birlik Partisi (Unity Party or BP) was officially founded on 17 October 1966. It described itself as a progressive, reformist, Kemalist party which was committed to freedom of religion and conscience. It chose as its symbol a lion surrounded by twelve stars, which represented Ali and the twelve imams. In 1969 it changed its name to the Türkiye Birlik Partisi (Turkey Unity Party or TBP). But the TBP’s appeal to Alevi identity failed. In the general elections of 12 September 1969 most Alevis voted for the secularist, center-left CHP. The 1969 elections were again won by the AP with 46.6 percent of the vote, giving it 256 of the 450 seats in parliament. The CHP took 27.4 percent and 143 seats. The remaining fifty-one seats were divided between thirteen independents and six minor parties. The latter included the TBP, which won 2.8 percent, giving it eight seats in parliament.

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The late 1960s witnessed an upsurge in political violence initiated by radical left-wing groups, which were particularly active among Turkey’s growing student population. The violence was soon matched and even surpassed by the response from right-wing organizations such as the KMD and the Milli Türk Talebe Birliği (National Turkish Student Union or MTTB). Although it later became more explicitly religious in character, during the late 1960s the MTTB was as much nationalistic as it was Islamic. On Friday 14 February 1969, after leftist students had staged a series of violent protests against a visit to Istanbul by the U.S. Sixth Fleet, the KMD and the MTTB organized a rally in center of Istanbul at which there were calls for a jihad against communism. On 16 February 1969, on what became known as “Bloody Sunday,” hundreds of leftists and rightists clashed on the streets of Istanbul. Four were killed and over 200 injured.60 However, the KMB and MTTB were soon overshadowed by the youth movement of the former CKMP, which had been renamed the Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (Nationalist Action Party or MHP) in 1969. In 1965, the CKMP had been taken over by Alparslan Türkeş (1917–97), a former army colonel who had been one of the leading conspirators in the 1960 coup. In 1965, Türkeş had published a booklet called Dokuz Işık (The Nine Lights), which laid out the principles of the party program under nine different headings. The Nine Lights was aggressively nationalistic, pan-Turkist, and anti-communist. But it made little mention of religion, merely noting in a section on “morality” that Islam was the religion of the Turks. In his public pronouncements, Türkeş repeatedly defended Kemalist secularism. However, by 1969, Türkeş had begun to emphasize Islam as one of the Turks’ national characteristics, later coining the slogan: “Turkish nationalists are as Muslim as the Hira Mountain and as Turkish as the Celestial Mountains.”61 However, unlike the fusion of Islam and Turkishness in the film Birleşen Yollar, the MHP’s concept of what was later to become known as the Türk-İslam Sentezi, or “Turkish-Islamic Synthesis,”62 was belligerent and divisory; not least because it excluded the Alevis and implied that all non-Sunnis were either actual or potential traitors to the national cause. In 1966, Türkeş formed a network of youth organizations called Ülkü Ocakları, or “Idealists’ Hearths”; although they and other pro-MHP activists were to become popularly known as Bozkurtlar, or “Grey Wolves,” after what Türkeş claimed had been the national symbol of the Turkic peoples in Central Asia.63 In 1968, Türkeş established the first of what were to become more than 100 commando camps scattered across Anatolia, which provided young nationalists with ideological and paramilitary training. In the 1969 elections, the MHP won just 3.0 percent of the vote, leaving Türkeş as its sole representative in parliament. However, as political violence began to escalate, the Grey Wolves rapidly became the most powerful radical rightist movement on the streets. The AP government’s inability to curb the violence increased the pressure on Demirel at a time when he was facing growing dissent from within his own party. On 18 December 1970, twenty-seven of the dissidents broke away to form a new party called the Demokratik Partisi (Democratic Party or DP). Although Demirel still held a narrow parliamentary majority, his government had been severely weakened. On


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12 March 1971, the commanders of the armed forces issued an ultimatum threatening a coup unless Demirel was able to form a strong government that could put an end to “the anarchy, fratricidal strife and social and economic unrest” and implement reforms “in an Ataturkist spirit.”64 The AP government immediately resigned. Demirel was replaced as prime minister by Nihat Erim (1912–80), a member of the right-wing of the CHP, who formed a government of technocrats. Under pressure from the military, the government initiated a crackdown. On 26 April 1971, martial law was declared in eleven of the country’s sixty-seven provinces, including all the large metropolitan areas. Over the months that followed, several thousand left-wing sympathizers were arrested. On 21 July 1971, the TİP was closed down and most of its leadership imprisoned. No similar measures were taken against the MHP or its associated organizations. However, on 20 May 1971, the Constitutional Court did close down the Islamist Milli Nizam Partisi (National Order Party or MNP), which had been founded just sixteen months earlier, on the grounds that it had “acted in violation of the secular character of the state and the principles safeguarding the Atatürk revolution.”65

The Rise of Necmettin Erbakan The MNP had been founded on 26 January 1970 by Necmettin Erbakan (born 1926). A mechanical engineer by training, Erbakan had worked in the private sector while also pursuing an academic career at Istanbul Technical University. Starting in 1966, he held a series of posts at the Türkiye Odalar ve Borsalar Birliği (Turkish Union of Chambers and Exchanges or TOBB), where he first came to national prominence as a spokesman for conservative small businesses. After failing to persuade the AP to name him as a party candidate in the 1969 elections, he won a seat as an independent from the central Anatolian city of Konya. While he was still a student, Erbakan had become a regular participant in discussion groups led by the Naqshbandi Sheikh Mehmet Zahit Kotku (1897–1980), the head of the order’s İskenderpaşa lodge, which took its name from the İskenderpaşa mosque in Istanbul where Kotku served as an imam.66 Erbakan sought Kotku’s blessing before founding the MNP and appears to have consulted frequently with him after the party was established.67 Most of the leading members of the MNP had connections with the Naqshbandi order, although the party also included a large number of Nurcus. The MNP’s party program stressed what it described as the “moral and material” development of the country, including the promotion of free enterprise and investments in heavy industry. It called for an end to all forms of birth control and condemned what it described as “the oppression of religion and disrespect shown to the pious.”68 In his public statements, Erbakan made no secret of his nostalgia for the Ottoman Empire, although he usually stopped short of explicitly calling for the restoration of the Shari’a. Speaking in Kocaeli on 13 November 1970, he declared: “The immorality in the country will disappear when the MNP comes to the power and establishes an honorable, moral Muslim Turkish state just like it used to be in the past.”69

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Many of Erbakan’s public pronouncements were candidly anti-Semitic and often pandered to his listeners’ feelings of impotence by invoking the specter of ZionistMasonic conspiracies. In a speech in Diyarbakır on 30 June 1970, Erbakan described the suppression of the Islamist uprising in April 1909 as: “The Freemasons got a bunch of officers to form the Action Army, depose Sultan Abdülhamit, destroy the Islamic Empire and transfer control of the world from the Muslims to the Jews.”70 He was particularly outspoken in his opposition to Turkey forming closer relations with the European Economic Community (EEC), warning that it could result in Turkey becoming a part of Israel.71 The imposition of martial law had led to a reduction in the level of political violence, but it failed to produce the strong government for which the military had hoped; not least because any government still needed the approval of the existing AP-dominated parliament in order to enact any legislation. Erim’s first administration lasted just under nine months, his second a little over four months. It was followed by two minority coalitions under compromise candidates as prime minister. The first was led by Ferit Melen (1906–88), a former member of the right wing of the CHP, and lasted from May 1972 to April 1973. The second was headed by Naim Talu (1919–98), a former governor of the Turkish Central Bank, which took the country to fresh elections on 14 October 1973, After the closure of the MNP, Erbakan oversaw the establishment of the Milli Selamet Partisi (National Salvation Party or MSP), which was officially founded on 11 October 1972. During the 1973 election campaign, the MSP actively cultivated a nostalgia for the Ottoman Empire, even using old Ottoman vocabulary rather than Kemalist neologisms in speeches and campaign literature. The party claimed that the strength of the Ottoman Empire had been based on its moral and intellectual superiority and that its decline was a direct consequence of its attempts to imitate the West. The MSP argued that the country needed to return to Islam and Islamic civilization if it was to recapture its rightful status as a great power. The MSP did not publish a detailed economic program. However, in their speeches, the party’s leaders repeatedly emphasized the need for rapid industrialization, claiming that a commitment to Islamic values would enable Turkey to attain high industrial growth without suffering the materialism they maintained was inherent in Western capitalism. The elections of 14 October 1973 were won by the CHP, which took 33.3 percent of the vote and 185 of the 450 seats in parliament, ahead of the AP with 29.8 percent and 149 seats and the newly formed DP with 11.9 percent and forty-five seats. The MSP finished fourth with 11.8 percent but managed to secure forty-eight seats. The Cumhuriyetçi Güven Partisi (Republican Reliance Party or CGP), which was primarily composed of former dissidents from the CHP, won 5.3 percent and thirteen seats. The MHP took 3.4 percent and three seats. The TBP received only 1.1 percent, giving it a single seat. The remaining six seats were won by independents. Most of the MSP’s votes appear to have come from the religious wing of the AP, particularly the peasantry and small-town traders and artisans. It recorded its best results in those areas of central and eastern Anatolia which were either the least developed or the most rapidly developing.


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The CHP was now led by Bülent Ecevit (1925–2006), a poet and Sanskrit scholar who had successfully challenged the eighty-seven-year-old İnönü for the CHP leadership at an Extraordinary Party Congress on 4 May 1972. Ecevit’s sympathies lay more with the Non-Aligned Movement than either the West or the Soviet Bloc. Even though the MSP was manifestly opposed to Kemalism, Ecevit appears to have calculated that their shared antagonism to both Western capitalism and communism could form the basis for a working relationship. In late 1974 he initiated negotiations for the formation of a coalition government. The CHP-MSP coalition was formally established on 26 January 1974. In addition to Erbakan becoming deputy prime minister, the MSP received six ministries in the twenty-five-member Council of Ministers: Agriculture, Justice, Commerce, Industry and Technology, and the Interior—while another member of the party was made Minister of State with special responsibility for the Diyanet. Tensions between the coalition partners appeared almost immediately as the MSP set about trying to fill the ministries under its control with party supporters. The partnership also strained the MSP’s internal unity. In March 1974, Ecevit proposed a general amnesty which would lead to the release of many of the leftists imprisoned after the 1971 military intervention. The MSP deputies included followers of Said Nursi. The Nurcu movement remained very loosely structured, with no single leader or organizational hierarchy. However, when Ecevit’s motion for a general amnesty came before parliament, the Nurcu members of the MSP voted against it; and, when it was nevertheless passed, resigned from the party. In terms of foreign relations, the CHP-MSP coalition’s term in office was dominated by the Turkish invasion of Cyprus on 20 July 1974, in response to a coup by hard-line elements in the Greek Cypriot National Guard who were seeking to unite the island with Greece. The invasion was a short-term military success but a long-term diplomatic disaster, leading to the de facto division of the island on ethnic grounds and the permanent presence of 35,000 Turkish troops in the Turkish Cypriot north in defiance of almost the entire international community.72 Nevertheless, the invasion of Cyprus gave a massive boost to Ecevit’s domestic popularity. In September 1974, he attempted to capitalize by dissolving the increasingly fractious coalition with the MSP and calling early elections. Not surprisingly, the other parties in parliament refused to cooperate. On 17 November 1974, Ecevit was replaced as prime minister by Sadi Irmak (1904–90), an academic and former member of the Turkish Senate, at the head of a caretaker technocrat government. After protracted negotiations, on 31 March 1975, Irmak was succeeded by Demirel at the head of what was termed a Milliyetçi Cephesi, or “Nationalist Front,” coalition, comprising the AP, the MSP, the CGP, and the MHP. In order to accommodate so many partners, Demirel increased the number of members of the Council of Ministers to thirty. Erbakan, Türkeş, and CGP Chairman Turhan Feyzioğlu (1922–88) were all appointed deputy prime ministers. The CGP received another four ministerial positions, the MHP one, and the MSP seven, adding the Ministry of Public Works to the same six ministries it had held in the coalition with the CHP. The remaining ministerial positions were given to members of the AP.

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The Nationalist Front coalition remained in power until the general elections of 5 June 1977. However, Ecevit’s still huge personal popularity resulted in a clear victory for the CHP, which won 41.4 percent and 213 of the 450 seats in parliament. The AP increased its vote to 36.9 percent, giving it 189 seats. But the CGP and the MSP both performed badly. The CGP’s vote fell to 1.9 percent, giving it just three seats. The MSP took 8.6 percent and twenty-four seats, half the number it had won in the previous elections. One of the reasons appears to have been the loss of many Nurcu votes, which now shifted back to the AP. While the less developed areas of Turkey, where the MSP had performed so well in 1973, witnessed a rapid increase in support for the MHP, which nearly doubled its overall vote to 6.4 percent, giving it sixteen seats in parliament. After Ecevit had tried and failed to put together a minority government, on 21 July 1977, Demirel established a coalition with the MSP and the MHP. As before, the leaders of the two minority partners were made deputy prime ministers. In addition, the MSP was given seven ministries: the Interior, Agriculture, Labor, Industry, Housing, Foreign Affairs, and one state ministry. The MHP received the ministries of Commerce, Health, Customs, and one state ministry. In return for their support, Demirel had also promised the leaders of the MSP and MHP complete authority over entire policy areas: Erbakan was made responsible for the economy and Türkeş for social affairs, including education. The arrangement soon proved unworkable, not least because the MHP was deeply involved in a resurgence of political violence and Erbakan failed to arrest a deterioration in the economy. By the end of 1977, annual inflation had risen to 23.8 percent while unemployment was unofficially estimated at nearly 30 percent of the available workforce. On 31 December 1977, a dozen liberal members of the AP sided with the opposition in a vote of confidence and Demirel was forced to resign. On 6 January 1978, Ecevit succeeded in forming a government by enlisting the support of minority parties and independents. But, with a majority of just four seats, the government was no more able than its predecessors to stem either the economic decline or the increasing political violence. On 16 October 1979, Ecevit tendered his resignation. He was once again replaced as prime minister by Demirel, albeit this time at the head of a technocratic government which formally took office on 24 October 1979. Yet this too proved ineffective. During 1979, inflation rose to 75.7 percent and the Turkish economy contracted by 0.5 percent. The pace of inflation and economic contraction both accelerated through the first eight months of 1980, as did the death toll from political violence. In 1977, a total of 319 people were killed in clashes between leftists and rightists. The figure rose to over 1,200 in 1978, 1,500 in 1979, and more than 2,000 in the first eight months of 1980. Early in the morning of 12 September 1980, the Turkish military staged a coup, seizing control of the administration of the country and banning all political activity.


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The MSP in Power In the four years between January 1974 and January 1978, the MSP was in power as a partner in a coalition government for a total of forty months out of forty-eight. Erbakan not only dominated all decision-making in the MSP but was also the party’s sole ideologue. In 1975 he published a booklet detailing the party’s goals. It was entitled Milli Görüş, or “National View,” a phrase which soon became used to describe Erbakan’s entire ideological agenda. The booklet included a mixture of general principles and specific proposals. For example, it defended the right of women to work and have the same access as men to education, while simultaneously insisting that their primary role was in the family, particularly as mothers.73 In foreign policy, Erbakan advocated close ties with the Muslim world, a withdrawal from NATO, and a severing of Turkey’s growing ties with the EEC.74 But the MSP made no concerted to implement either of the latter threats during its forty months in power. When, in 1978–79, the EEC asked Turkey to join the community together with Greece, the MSP was no longer in government and it was Ecevit, backed by protectionist elements in the Turkish business community, who rejected the invitation.75 As a result, Greece joined alone in 1981. Starting in the mid-1970s, Turkey did strengthen its ties with the Muslim world. However, this realignment was primarily in response to Turkey’s international isolation following its 1974 invasion of Cyprus and its economic vulnerability in the wake of the steep hike in oil prices during the same year; and thus coincided with, rather than being caused by, the MSP’s presence in government. In September 1969, Turkey had become one of the thirty founding members of the Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC). The OIC charter, which detailed the organization’s goals and responsibilities, was not formulated until March 1972. The preamble to the OIC charter committed all members to preserving “Islamic spiritual, ethical, social and economic values.” Article Eight of the charter described membership as being open to “every Muslim state,”76 a description which, logically, should have excluded an avowedly secular one. Initially, Turkey was a less than wholehearted participant, often sending relatively low-level delegations to OIC meetings. However, this changed from 1975 onwards. In May 1976, Istanbul hosted the OIC’s Seventh Islamic Conference of Foreign Ministers under the chairmanship of Turkish Foreign Minister İhsan Sabri Çağlayangil (1908–93) of the AP. In a speech to the conference, Prime Minister Demirel described how “throughout history, the Turkish people had sacrificed a great many lives for the glory of Islam.”77 During the course of the meeting, Turkey announced that it had formally ratified the OIC charter and that it would allow the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) to open a representative office in Ankara. In return, delegates at the conference approved Turkish proposals that the OIC should establish a Research Center for Islamic History, Art, and Culture (RCIHAC)78 in Istanbul and a Statistical, Economic, and Social Research and Training Centre for the Islamic Countries (SESRTCIC) in Ankara.79 During the late 1970s, Turkey also signed a series of economic agreements with Muslim countries in the hope of securing its oil supply. In January 1977 an

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oil pipeline was opened from Kirkuk in northern Iraq to Yumurtalık on Turkey’s eastern Mediterranean coast. At the OIC’s Ninth Islamic Conference of Foreign Ministers in Dakar in April 1978, Turkey voted for a resolution calling for “Israel’s complete and unconditional withdrawal from all occupied Arab territories.”80 But the strategic considerations which provided the motivation for closer ties with Muslim countries did not apply to domestic policy. Nor did the MSP pressure its coalition partners to introduce any substantive policy initiatives to reverse Atatürk’s reforms, much less attempt to reintroduce the Shari’a. Similarly, despite repeatedly inveighing against the charging of interest, Erbakan made no attempt to prevent his coalition partners raising interest rates whenever they felt it necessary. Although Erbakan made a point of appearing at groundbreaking ceremonies for new factories, there was no noticeable acceleration in the pace of industrialization in Turkey.81 However, Erbakan did ensure that he was seen to be making a stand on issues with greater symbolism than substance. For example, when a statue of a naked woman was erected in Istanbul on 10 March 1974 in belated celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the republic, Erbakan and the MSP led the protests. The statue was removed on 18 March 1974. On 1 February 1977, Erbakan refused to sign a government decree authorizing the opening of a state-owned bottling plant which would be used to bottle alcoholic drinks. But most of his threats were little more than rhetoric. On 2 May 1975, Erbakan declared that all communist students would be expelled from schools. On 29 May 1976, when the police prevented some students from the MTTB from marking the anniversary of the conquest of Istanbul by praying in Ayasofya (the former church of Saint Sophia, which Atatürk had converted into a museum in 1934), Erbakan declared that he would pray there himself the following year. In neither case did he carry out his threat. Yet, even if it did little to try to change the present, the MSP certainly used its time in power to invest in the future. Thousands of party supporters were given jobs in the ministries under the MSP’s control, which meant that the MSP retained a substantial presence in the bureaucracy even when the party itself was no longer in government. The MSP adopted a similar strategy in education. On 22 May 1972, the military-backed technocrat government had issued a communiqué closing the middle school sections of the İmam Hatip schools. When the MSP came to power in 1974, it not only reopened the İmam Hatip middle schools but launched a massive expansion program. At the beginning of the 1971–72 academic year there had been seventy-two İmam Hatip middle schools. This increased to 101 in 1974–75, 171 in 1975–76, 248 in 1976–77, and 334 in 1977–78—an increase of 464 percent in four years. The total number of students in both the middle school and high school sections of the İmam Hatip schools rose from 46,022 in 1971–72 to 134,517 in 1977–78. In 1976 the İmam Hatip schools were opened to girl students, even though Sunni Islam traditionally forbids women from serving as clergy. The MSP undoubtedly regarded the İmam Hatip schools as a means of raising the level of religiosity in society. It also sought to increase the influence of pious Muslims in the state apparatus by attempting to fill the bureaucracy with party


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supporters. But it had no desire to increase the control of the state over religion. During its time in power, the MSP made no attempted to initiate a state-sponsored mosque-building campaign. Nor did it press for an increase in funding for the Diyanet. In fact, the Diyanet’s share of the total government budget fell from 0.92 percent 1973 to 0.58 percent in 1979. However, the MSP did use its time in power to develop and expand its own network of foundations, cultural associations, and vocational and youth organizations throughout Anatolia; not least because its control of the Interior Ministry, which oversaw policing and internal security, gave the party a large measure of de facto legal immunity against prosecution for anti-secular activity. In 1976, the MSP established the Akıncılar Derneği (Raiders’ Association or AkDer), which was named after the lightly armed cavalry of the Ottoman army. AkDer has been described as being “legal in appearance, illegal in intent.”82 According to its founding charter, Ak-Der was merely a youth organization. But its magazine, Akıncı, was unequivocal about its long-term intentions, which were to destroy the “unwanted, humanistic system of the Western-Secular Republic” and replace it with “an Islamic state based on divinely ordained laws.”83 Ak-Der expanded rapidly until it had nearly 600 branches84 scattered throughout Turkey. In 1976–78, similar organizations were established for civil servants (Akıncı Memurlar Derneği or Ak-Mem), manual workers (Akıncı İşciler Derneği or Ak-İş), sportsmen (Akıncı Sporcular Derneği or Ak-Spor), and high-school students (Akıncı Liseliler Derneği or Ak-Lis). In addition, the MSP began organizing amongst the Turkish Diaspora in Europe, especially in what was then West Germany. In the early 1960s, West Germany had begun to import gastarbeiter, or “guest workers,” from Turkey in order to cover a domestic shortfall in the supply of manual labor.85 Although recruitment of new gastarbeiter came to a halt in 1973, the Turkish population in Germany continued to grow as workers were joined by their families. Most of the Turks who arrived in Germany came from undeveloped regions of rural Anatolia. A combination of culture shock and the xenophobic disdain with which they were often regarded by native Germans resulted in them retreating into socially self-contained communities and clinging even tighter to their traditional values. They were fertile recruiting ground for organizations which could offer both a sense of religious and ethnic solidarity in an alien environment and the promise of the advancement of Islamic mores and values in the Turkish homeland. In 1976, Erbakan founded Avrupa Milli Görüş Teşkilatı (European National View Organization or AMGT). Originally based in Berlin, the AMGT’s headquarters were later moved to Cologne. Over the years that followed, the AMGT86 expanded to over 2,000 branches and more than 250,000 active members and sympathizers. The AMGT became one of the main sources of revenue for the Milli Görüş movement inside Turkey. In addition to its own branches, the organization established numerous cultural associations, youth groups, and foundations and controlled a large proportion of the mosques in Germany.87 By the time it left power in 1978, the MSP was as much a social movement as a political party. During 1979 and into 1980 it demonstrated its growing ability to mobilize popular support by organizing a series of protest meetings, culminating in

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a mass rally in Konya on 6 September 1980. What was originally designed as a protest against the Knesset’s approval on 30 July 1980 of a law designating Jerusalem as the “eternal capital” of Israel quickly developed into a demonstration in support of the establishment of an Islamic state inside Turkey. Many of the demonstrators wore turbans and fezzes. Some sat down when the national anthem was played. Others chanted slogans such as “the atheist state will be destroyed” and “Islam is the Shari’a, the Qur’an the constitution” and carried placards, some of them in the old Arabic script, proclaiming “Shari’a or death” and “one caliphate, one state.” In his address to the rally, Erbakan declared: “We should take as our guide the industry, determination and love of jihad [that resulted] in the conquest of Istanbul. May you, the new army of Sultan Fatih Mehmet, be victorious and your holy struggle be blessed. Be prepared, we shall sharpen our swords.”88 The military junta later cited the Konya rally as one of the reasons for its seizure of power on 12 September 1980.89

The Headscarf Legislation such as the Hat Law of 1925 had targeted male rather than female clothing. Nevertheless, Atatürk had actively discouraged women from covering their heads in public and later generations of Kemalists had frequently attempted to persuade them to adopt what were regarded as more modern forms of clothing. In the 1950s and early 1960s, their efforts had focused on the all-enveloping black cloak known in Turkish as the çarşaf (literally “sheet”) and usually referred to in English as the chador.90 There were even attempts to persuade conservative women to abandon the chador in favor of the başörtüsü (literally “head-covering”), the traditional headscarf of the women of rural Anatolia, which was usually knotted under the chin.91 Increasing urbanization through the late 1960s and 1970s resulted not only in covered women becoming increasingly visible to the Kemalist urban elite but also in a change in the way in which they covered their heads. The rural başörtüsü had served a dual purpose: enabling the women to conform with their intepretation of Islamic modesty while protecting their heads against the elements. However, in the towns and cities, a growing number began to wear what Kemalists referred to as a türban, or “turban,” in which a piece of fabric is wrapped tightly around the head and neck and usually pinned in place. By the 1970s, for pious urban women, the türban had become not just a religious obligation but a fashion statement. Stores began to appear which specialized in what became known as tesettür (meaning “covered” or “veiled”) clothing, including overcoats as well as headscarves. However, most of the women who wore headscarves still came from lower income groups and from families dominated by conservative males who tended to be reluctant to allow their daughters to have anything more than an elementary education or their wives to work outside the home. It was extremely rare to find a headscarfed woman in the professions and institutions of the elite unless it was in a relatively menial capacity (for example, as cleaners or kitchen staff ). As a result,


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many Kemalists viewed the headscarf more as an indication of social status than of personal piety. However, during the late 1970s, not only did women wearing headscarves becoming increasingly visible on the streets of towns and cities but they were also appearing—albeit in still very small numbers—amongst the skilled workforce and in the universities as students. Alarmed by this intrusion into the domain of the ruling elite, many Kemalists started to see the headscarf as a political challenge to secularism. On 8 December 1978, the CHP government issued a circular banning women working in the public sector from covering their heads.92

Reinventing the Other: Non-Muslims and Alevis By the early 1970s, non-Muslims accounted for less 0.5 percent of the total Turkish population. But they continued to come under pressure from the Turkish state. In 1971 the Turkish authorities closed the Greek Orthodox seminary on the island of Heybeliada in the Sea of Marmara, leaving the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate without anywhere in Turkey where it could train priests. In May 1974, the Turkish Court of Cassation confiscated all of the assets, mostly donations and bequests of property, acquired by non-Muslim foundations since 1936. The court claimed that the 1936 declarations of assets were “the acts of the foundations” and that, as there was no provision in the declarations for new acquisitions, any property acquired after 1936 was thus illegal. This was both manifestly untrue and a blatant violation of the Treaty of Lausanne. But the properties were confiscated nevertheless. The Court of Cassation ruling added insult to injury by defining non-Muslim citizens of Turkey as “foreigners” and the foundations established by them as “foreign foundations.”93 However, there was no repeat of the pogrom of 1955.94 In fact, during the 1970s, the focus of religious violence in Turkey shifted away from non-Muslims towards the Alevis; mainly as the result of the tendency of Alevis to identify with leftist parties and organizations at the same time as Turkish nationalists increasingly adopted the concept of the Turkish-Islamic Synthesis. Initially, Alevis had tended to support leftist political parties because they regarded them as being more secular. However, as they became increasingly politicized, many Alevis began to see parallels between Alevism and socialism. Historical events such as the kızılbaşı revolts were redefined as leftist uprisings and some Alevis even began to regard Alevism itself as a form of proto-communism. As a result, Alevis were heavily overrepresented in all of the left groups and organizations active at the time, including those engaged in political violence.95 Not surprisingly, the overwhelmingly Sunni extremist rightist and ultranationalist organizations began to associate Alevism with communism and regard Alevis as ipso facto communists. During the late 1970s, violent rightists began to target Alevi communities and neighborhoods in towns across Anatolia, usually in revenge for real or imagined attacks by violent leftist organizations. Hundreds of Alevis, the majority of them “noncombatants,” were killed in pogroms in towns such as Tokat,

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Çankırı, Çorum, and Sivas. The worst massacre occurred in the Anatolian city of Kahramanmaraş in late December 1978. Over a period of six days, more than 106 people, almost all of them Alevis, were killed in attacks by Sunni mobs on Alevi neighborhoods. When the Turkish military seized power on 12 September 1980, it sought not only to restore order but to reunify Turkish society in order to prevent a repeat of the bloody factionalism of the preceding years. Not only did the Turkish-Islamic Synthesis exclude a substantial proportion of the Turkish population, but it was a clear contradiction of Atatürk’s vision of a secular Turkish nation state. Yet, extraordinarily, given that the Turkish military had always regarded itself as the guardian of Atatürk’s legacy, when it was looking for an ideological foundation on which to rebuild Turkish society, the junta that now ruled the country chose the Turkish-Islamic Synthesis.

5

From Periphery to Mainstream

T

he military intervention of 12 September 1980 was both the most ambitious and the longest lasting in modern Turkish history. Martial law was declared and parliament, the Senate, municipal assemblies, and mayoralties were all dissolved. For more than three years, the country was effectively ruled by a five-man junta under the leadership of Chief of Staff General Kenan Evren (born 1917). The recently retired navy commander Admiral Bülend Ulusu (born 1923) was appointed prime minister at the head of a twenty-seven-person Council of Ministers composed exclusively of technocrats without any party political affiliation. In October 1981, the junta convened a Consultative Assembly, comprising 160 handpicked representatives, to serve as the country’s legislature. However, in practice, the junta retained supreme executive power through to the return to civilian rule in December 1983. At the local level, martial law commanders worked with newly appointed mayors and, outside municipal areas, governors who had been approved or appointed by the military. The junta’s primary short-term goal was the suppression of political violence. In the longer term, it sought to reconstruct both the Turkish state and the political arena in order to prevent a return to the factional fighting and fractious unstable coalition governments that had plagued Turkey for more than a decade. Initially, the coup was both successful and popular, as the military restored order and swiftly put an end to the political violence. In the 12 months following the coup, the death toll fell to 282. By 1982, political violence had virtually ceased. But the stability came at a huge cost. Curfews were imposed and most public activities forbidden. A wide range of magazines, newspapers, and films were banned, hundreds of thousands of allegedly subversive books were burned, and the activities of virtually all professional associations and trade unions were suspended. Fourteen thousand Turks were stripped of their citizenship and another 650,000 people were detained. Most were soon released, but over 230,000 were charged.1 Although rightists were at least as responsible as leftists for the violence in the years preceding the coup, the latter were treated considerably more harshly than the former. Interrogations were often brutal; 171 prisoners are reported to have died as the result of torture.2 Another eighteen leftists and eight rightists were executed.

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On 16 October 1981, the junta officially dissolved all the political parties in Turkey and transferred their assets to the Treasury. In addition to a blanket ban on all political activity, several leading politicians were prosecuted by special martial law courts. Erbakan was detained on 15 October 1980. On 24 February 1981, he and thirty-three other leading members of the Milli Selamet Partisi (National Salvation Party or MSP) were formally charged under Article 163 of the Turkish Penal Code and for violating the principle of secularism enshrined in the constitution. Exactly two years later, on 24 February 1983, Erbakan was sentenced to four years in prison and his co-defendants to terms ranging from two to four years; although all the convictions were overturned on appeal on 13 February 1985. On 25 April 1983, the junta promulgated a Political Parties Law, which forbade new political parties from having any connection with the parties that had been active prior to the coup. The new law also specified that all political parties “must work in conformity with the principles of Atatürk and his revolution.”3 Although the ban on political activity was lifted in the run-up to the return to civilian rule, over 700 politicians were forbidden from taking part: 500 relatively minor figures until 1986, and the remaining 200—including Demirel, Ecevit, Erbakan, and Türkeş—until 1991. All of the new political parties also had to submit their lists of parliamentary candidates to the junta for approval. Although fifteen political parties had been founded by August 1983, the junta disqualified all but three from running in the 6 November 1983 elections; mostly on the grounds that they had ties to banned politicians such as Ecevit and Demirel. In addition to removing the leading players from the political arena, the junta sought to reshape the environment in which it hoped their successors would operate; aggressively inculcating a sense of homogenized national unity while promulgating a new authoritarian constitution. In order to inculcate a sense of national unity, the junta actively promoted the rightist ideology of the Turkish-Islamic Synthesis as a force for social cohesion. Even though he was—unusually for a member of the Turkish military—the son of an imam, there is no evidence to suggest that Evren had an Islamist agenda. He appears rather to have been attempting to instrumentalize Islam as an ideological bulwark against communism and, in eastern and southeast Anatolia, separatist Kurdish nationalism.4 But the junta also appears to have been confident that, by increasing state control over religion, it would be able to prevent the resultant rise in Islamic sentiments from threatening Atatürk’s legacy. It was to be a grave miscalculation. In 1983 the junta published a Milli Kültür Raporu, or “National Culture Report.”5 It was prepared in collaboration with the ultranationalist Intellectuals’ Hearth organization and argued that Turks were united by a shared national culture based on the three institutions of the family, mosque, and military. In the same year, the Turkish General Staff published a three-volume exposition of Kemalism entitled Atatürkçülük, or “Atatürkism,” which reinvented Atatürk as a pious Muslim whose reforms were designed not to reduce the influence of Islam in public life but to free it of obscurantist accretions and restore it to its original state as an enlightened, rational religion. In 1984 the book was republished by the Ministry of Education and distributed to schools as a sourcebook for courses on Kemalism.6

FROM PERIPHERY TO MAINSTREAM

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The new draft constitution, which was endorsed by the Consultative Assembly in October 1982, tightened state control over the propagation of both Islam and Kemalism. On 7 November 1982, the constitution was put to a public referendum. Voting was compulsory and the constitution was approved by 91.4 percent in a turnout of 91.3 percent. The 1982 constitution abolished the Senate, which had always been largely ineffective, and introduced a 400–seat unicameral parliament with a maximum term of five years. It also required political parties to win at least 10 percent of the national vote in order to be represented in parliament. Article 2 of the constitution repeated its predecessor’s description of Turkey as a “democratic, secular, and social state based on the rule of law” but added a new phrase explicitly expressing the state’s “commitment to the nationalism of Atatürk.”7 Article 10 of the constitution guaranteed equality before the law for “everyone regardless of language, race, gender, political opinion, philosophical belief, religion, or sect.”8 Although it was keen to promote Islam as an ideological bulwark against communism, in September 1981 a Ministry of Education report commissioned by the junta had warned that large numbers of children were still receiving religious instruction outside the state system in Qur’an courses run by the tariqah.9 In response, Article 24 of the constitution stated that: “Religious and moral instruction and education are conducted under the supervision and control of the state. Instruction in religious culture and morals is included amongst the compulsory lessons that are taught in institutions of elementary and middle-school education.”10 The junta also raised the status of the Diyanet, making it a constitutional institution for the first time. Article 136 of the constitution stated that the Diyanet would exercise its duties as part of the apparatus of state “in accordance with the principles of secularism, removed from all political views and opinions, in the interests of national solidarity and integration.”11 However, in practice, the Diyanet remained exclusively concerned with the administration and propagation of Sunni Islam. Compulsory religious education in schools consisted solely of the tenets, rites, and practices of Sunni Islam; albeit within the context of loyalty to the state and the synthesis of Islam and Turkish nationalism. All non-Sunnis, not least the sizeable Alevi minority, were thus deprived of the equality before the law envisioned in Article 10 of the constitution. At the time of writing, both the relevant articles of the constitution and the content of the compulsory religious classes remained essentially unchanged; and Ministry of Education textbooks continued to describe Sunni Islam as dinimiz, or “our religion.”12 In the aftermath of the coup, the junta restructured the institutions overseeing higher education and broadcasting, leading to the creation of two new bodies: the Yüksek Öğretim Kurulu (Council of Higher Education or YÖK), which was established in 1981 to oversee all institutions of higher education; and the Radyo ve Televizyon Yüksek Kurulu (Radio and Television High Council or RTYK), which was founded in 1983 and later renamed Radyo ve Televizyon Üst Kurulu (Radio and Television Supreme Council or RTÜK). The higher echelons of the two bodies included many members of the Intellectuals’ Hearth organization, which also

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supplied a large proportion of the new university rectors when the junta instituted a purge of academics suspected of left-wing sympathies. The new constitution tightened state control over Kemalism. Article 134 ended the autonomy of both the Turkish Language Association and the Turkish History Association, incorporating them into the Atatürk Kültür, Dil ve Tarih Yüksek Kurumu (Atatürk Culture, Language, and History Supreme Council or AKDTYK), which was attached to the Prime Ministry. The AKDTYK also included two new bodies: the Atatürk Araştırma Merkezi, or “Atatürk Research Center,” and the Atatürk Kültür Merkezi, or “Atatürk Culture Center.” On 11 August 1983, the junta promulgated a new law which described the duties and functions of the AKDTYK as: “scientific research into and the promotion, dissemination, and publication of Atatürkist thought, principles, and reforms, Turkish culture, Turkish history, and the Turkish language.”13 The constitution also enhanced the status of the MGK. Article 118 required the Council of Ministers to give the recommendations of the MGK “priority consideration” rather than merely consider them, as had been the case under the 1961 constitution.14 The MGK still did not have any executive power. Nor was there any change in its composition or the frequency with which it met. However, a new National Security Council Law (No. 2945), which was passed on 9 November 1983, expanded the MGK’s area of responsibility to include every aspect of national security. Although the Council of Ministers remained the ultimate authority when it came to the implementation of security policy, the identification of security threats and the formulation of the appropriate response effectively became the sole preserve of the MGK. Policy drafts and briefing documents were prepared by the staff of the MGK Secretariat General, who now included a large number of serving and retired military personnel under the MGK General Secretary, who was required to be a serving three-star general. Significantly, Law No. 2945 explicitly added an ideological dimension to the definition of national security. Article 4 stated that the responsibilities of the MGK included: “Determining the measures deemed necessary in order to protect the constitutional order, ensure national unity and integrity, orient the Turkish Nation towards national goals in the light of Atatürkist thought, principles, and reforms around national ideals and values.”15 Even though it was nominally answerable to the Prime Ministry, in practice the MGK Secretariat General was tasked and controlled by the Turkish General Staff. Over the years that followed, the monthly meetings of the MGK provided the military with an institutional platform at which it could try to ensure that the policies of the civilian government remained within what it regarded as acceptable parameters.16 Even if the Council of Ministers often failed to implement the recommendations of the MGK, neither did it ever introduce measures which directly contradicted them. The military appears to have been confident that such control mechanisms would enable it to contain any increase in Islamic sentiments. Evren began to make frequent references to Islam in his public statements. In November 1980 the junta even approved a government decree allowing the Naqshbandi Sheikh Mehmet Zahit Kotku, who had been one of the main driving forces behind the foundation of the MNP in 1970, to be buried in the courtyard of Süleymaniye, the


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sixteenth-century mosque built by Süleyman I in the center of Istanbul. It was the first time since the end of the Ottoman Empire that anyone had been allowed to be interred in its confines. The junta did not open any new İmam Hatip schools, but it did oversee a growth in religious instruction outside the school system. The number of Qur’an courses run by the Diyanet rose from 2,610 in 1980 to 3,047 in 1983, while the number of students increased from 59,806 to 100,263.17 The junta also approved a mosquebuilding program, some of which was paid for by the state and some by private contributions. In the three years from 1981 to 1984, the total number of mosques in Turkey rose to 54,667, an increase of 7,022. This compares with a growth of 4,901 in the previous ten years, which included the coalition governments in which the MSP was a partner.18 The junta also attempted to tighten the Turkish state’s control over the practice of Islam in the Turkish Diaspora, particularly in Germany, where groups such as the Süleymancılar and Erbakan’s AMGT were well-established among the gastarbeiter. During the three years of military rule, the number of Diyanet personnel working outside Turkey grew from twenty to 270. Such a huge increase inevitably placed an additional burden on the state’s already overstretched resources. Extraordinarily, Evren agreed that the salaries of the Diyanet personnel would be paid by the Rabitat al-Alam al-Islami, or “World Muslim League,” a radical organization based in Saudi Arabia and committed to the propagation of the Wahhabi interpretation of Shari’a law. However, the junta did not hesitate to defy domestic conservative opinion when it came to trying to curb Turkey’s high birthrate, which it regarded as one of the main causes of the political unrest of the 1970s. In 1982, the junta announced plans to legalize abortion in Turkey for the first time. In August 1982, Tayyar Altıkulaç (born 1938), the head of the Diyanet, sent a letter to the Ministry of Health protesting that Islam viewed abortion as murder. Nevertheless, in May 1983, abortion was legalized for up to the tenth week of pregnancy.19 The junta also confronted conservative Muslims over the headscarf issue. On 7 December 1981, the Prime Ministry issued a list of regulations which required all personnel and students in institutions of higher education to wear “clothing which is compatible with Atatürk’s revolution and principles” and explicitly stated that that all university students must “not cover their heads while inside the institution.”20 However, some universities simply chose to ignore the new rule and allowed girls in headscarves to continue attending classes. On 20 December 1982, the regulations were reissued by the Council of Ministers as a “Communiqué on Appearance and Clothing.” The communiqué came into effect on 10 January 1983. This time the ban was enforced. Police were posted at the entrances to university campuses and many headscarfed girls were forced to abandon their classes.21 By the time the headscarf ban began to be enforced, the junta was already preparing for the return to civilian rule. Although it had maintained a tight control over many areas of public life, the junta had entrusted economic policy to Turgut Özal (1927–93), a former engineer and bureaucrat. It was Özal who now stepped into the political vacuum created by the junta’s ban on the pre-coup political parties and politicians.

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The Özal Era Özal was born in the southeastern town of Malatya, the eldest of three sons. Both of his parents were devout Muslims. His father had trained as an imam before opting for a career as clerk in the state-owned Agricultural Bank, where he rose to become a branch manager. His mother Hafıze Özal (1906–88), of whom he was particularly fond, was an elementary school teacher who became very close to the İskenderpaşa lodge of the Naqshbandi tariqah. Turgut and his younger brother Korkut Özal (born 1929) first acquired reputations for public piety while they were students at Istanbul Technical University in the late 1940s, by which time both had already started attending local meetings of the Naqshbandi order. On graduation in 1950, Özal joined the civil service. During the 1960s, his close relations with the AP led to Demirel appointing him undersecretary of the Devlet Planlama Teşkilatı (State Planning Organization or DPT). Özal resigned after the military intervention of 1971 and moved to Washington, DC, where he spent two years at the World Bank before returning to Turkey to work in the private sector. During the 1970s, he and his brother Korkut joined the MSP. Korkut Özal successfully stood as a MSP candidate in the 1973 parliamentary elections and subsequently served as Agriculture Minister in the coalition governments of 1974 and 1975–77 and as Interior Minister in the coalition government of 1977–78. Turgut Özal’s attempts to launch a political career were less auspicious. In 1977 he stood unsuccessfully for parliament as an MSP candidate from Izmir. Nevertheless, when Demirel became prime minister in October 1979, he again appointed Özal as undersecretary of the DPT. Under the junta, Özal introduced realistic exchange rates, reduced the foreign trade deficit, and freed interest rates from state control. Annual inflation fell from 107 percent in 1980 to 27 percent in 1982. However, he took an often cavalier attitude towards rules and regulations. He refused to heed warnings about the unsustainably high interest rates being offered by a brokerage house called Banker Kastelli. Banker Kastelli collapsed in June 1982 and 220,000 investors lost their savings. On 14 July 1982, Özal resigned from the government. Over the next ten months, Özal began to assemble what was eventually to become the Anavatan Partisi (Motherland Party or ANAP). The party was formally established on 20 May 1983. ANAP is often portrayed as a broad coalition. However, most of the decision-making core of the party, led by Özal himself, came from the Islamist/nationalist right of the political spectrum. Evren appears to have hoped that the 1983 elections would be won by the Milliyetçi Demokrasi Partisi (Nationalist Democracy Party or MDP), which was led by Turgut Sunalp (1917–99), a retired general who had repeatedly expressed his support for the junta. The only other party allowed to participate in the elections was the Halkçı Parti (Populist Party or HP), which espoused a moderate social democratic agenda and was headed by Necdet Calp (1922–98), a recently retired bureaucrat. When the elections were held on 6 November 1983, ANAP won 45.1 percent of the vote, giving it 212 seats in parliament.22 The HP finished second with 30.5 percent and 117 seats, while the MDP took just 23.3 percent and seventy-one seats. Independents won 1.1 percent of the total vote but no seats.23 On 13 December


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1983, President Evren formally approved a new Council of Ministers with Özal as prime minister—a position he was to hold for the next six years. Özal’s admirers tend to look back at his term in office as a golden age, describing how his “economic liberalism, anti-bureaucraticism and pro-Islamic attitude made him very popular.”24 In fact, Özal never won a fully free and fair election.25 His election victory of November 1983 was mainly attributable to the junta’s ban on the pre-coup political leaders. Nevertheless, there is little doubt that, while he was in office, Özal did more to change modern Turkey than any leader since Atatürk, particularly through his liberalization of the economy. Yet even here, Özal’s legacy was, at best, mixed. Özal’s overall goal was to transform the sclerotic introspection of a state-centered regime based on import-substitution into a dynamic, globally competitive, export-driven market economy, which was open to foreign capital, ideas, and technology. In the period 1983–89, Özal eased restrictions on the flow of funds, made the Turkish Lira fully convertible, revived the moribund Istanbul Stock Exchange, launched a privatization program, and recruited young U.S.-trained Turkish technocrats to senior positions in the economic administration. On 14 April 1987, Turkey even applied to join the European Economic Community (EEC); not because Özal thought that it had a realistic chance of being accepted, but because he believed that the possibility of membership would accelerate economic liberalization. Some of the results of Özal’s policies were impressive. Turkey’s Gross National Product (GNP) grew by an average of 7.3 percent per annum in the period 1984– 87.26 Annual exports almost doubled over the same period to $10.2 billion. In 1987 exports were equivalent to 11.5 percent of annual GNP, compared with an average of 3.6 percent in the period 1971–80. But there was no increase in overall living standards. In fact, most Turks became poorer. Wages lagged behind inflation as consumer prices rose by an average of 41.7 percent per annum in the period 1984–87. By 1987, the average wages of unionized workers were 19.8 percent lower in real terms than in 1980.27 Nor did the apparent boom create jobs. By 1987, the official unemployment rate stood at 8.4 percent, up from 7.9 percent in 1980. During 1987, Özal came under increasing pressure to lift the ban on the precoup political leaders. Several had already established proxy parties, which they attempted to direct from behind the scenes through trusted associates. On 17 May 1987, Özal announced that the issue would be put to a referendum. Although ANAP campaigned vigorously for the ban to be maintained, on 6 September 1987 the Turkish people voted by 50.2 percent to 49.8 percent for it to be lifted. As soon as the result of the referendum was known, Özal called early elections for 29 November 1987—one year ahead of schedule. His intention was to try to secure another five-year term before the formerly banned politicians were able to assume full control of their proxy parties and mount an effective campaign. The opposition was also heavily fragmented. Özal increased the number of members of parliament (MPs) to 450 and amended the election laws to give the party with the largest share of the vote a disproportionately large share of the seats in parliament. Özal’s strategy proved successful. In the 29 November 1987 elections, ANAP won the largest share of the vote with 36.3 percent, giving it 292 seats or 64.9 percent

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of the total number of deputies in parliament. The former members of the CHP had split into two factions, each of which had formed its own party: the Sosyal Demokrasi Halk Partisi (Social Democracy People’s Party or SHP), which was led by Erdal İnönu (born 1926), the son of former CHP leader İsmet İnönu; and the Demokratik Sol Partisi (Democratic Left Party or DSP), which was headed by Bülent Ecevit. The SHP won 24.8 percent of the vote, giving it ninety-nine seats. The DSP won just 8.5 percent of the vote, well short of the 10 percent national threshold. The Doğru Yol Partisi (True Path Party or DYP), which was led by Demirel, took 19.1 percent and fifty-nine seats. The new parties established by the other two leading politicians of the pre-coup era failed to cross the 10 percent threshold. Necmettin Erbakan’s Refah Partisi (Welfare Party or RP) took 7.2 percent of the vote, while Alparslan Türkeş’s Milliyetçi Çalışma Partisi (Nationalist Labor Party or MÇP) won only 2.9 percent.28 The new ANAP government was officially established on 21 December 1987. But, faced with a cooling economy and—for the first time—an effective and increasingly well-organized opposition, Özal was unable to halt the slide in either the government’s or his own personal popularity. Annual GNP growth plummeted to 1.5 percent in 1988 and 0.9 percent in 1989, both less than the average annual net population growth rate of around 2.2 percent. Consumer inflation rose to 73.7 percent in 1988, before slipping back to a still high 63.3 percent in 1989. Public discontent at falling living standards was exacerbated by Özal’s relaxed attitude to the conventions of Turkish statecraft. Whenever possible, he tried to rule by decree rather than pushing a fully fledged law through parliament. There were times when ruling by decree undoubtedly accelerated the reform process, but it also led to uncertainty and frequently reduced the regulatory framework to flaccidity. There were even occasions when Özal signed a decree into force on one day only to sign another amending or abrogating it a few days later. Özal also often appeared unwilling to punish those who took advantage of the looser regulatory environment. Although there had always been corruption in the state bureaucracy, by the late 1980s it had become endemic and increasingly flagrant. Özal’s premiership also became notorious for the alacrity with which his close associates discovered a hitherto undemonstrated talent for money-making— an ability which abruptly deserted them as soon as he was no longer in office. On 26 March 1989, ANAP came third in local assembly elections with 21.8 percent of the vote, behind the SHP with 28.7 percent and the DYP with 25.1 percent. Evren’s seven-year term as president was due to end in November 1989. Under the 1982 constitution, the president was elected by parliament. Given its huge parliamentary majority, this meant that the president would effectively be appointed by ANAP. Özal took the opportunity to protect himself against the consequences of further public disapprobation by having himself elected as president on 31 October 1989. He was formally sworn in on 9 November 1989.


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Özal and Islam During his six years as prime minister, Özal continued and intensified the integration of the Turkish-Islamic synthesis into the official state discourse that had begun under the junta. There is no evidence that Özal favored either the introduction of the Shari’a or the abolition of secularism. It is true that he introduced some legislative measures to try to ease restrictions on Islamic practices and beliefs. However, in general, he appears to have been content to continue to regulate society through secular laws while simultaneously coloring society itself—including culture, identity, and the public space—with an increasingly Islamic hue; or, from the perspective of his more pious supporters, enabling society’s true colors to emerge from beneath its Kemalist veneer. Some aspects of Özal’s lifestyle flouted conservative convention, including his appearances on television holding hands with his bareheaded wife Semra (born 1934) and her own equally public penchant for whisky and cigars. But he nevertheless remained a genuinely pious Muslim, who was equally prepared to defy Kemalist convention by expressing his beliefs in public. In May 1988 he promulgated a decree allowing his recently deceased mother Hafize Özal to be buried in Süleymaniye mosque close to Mehmet Zahit Kotku, her Naqshbandi mentor. While prime minister, Özal was frequently photographed attending mosques in Ankara together with his ministers. It was during his term in office that the fast-breaking meals held at sunset during the month of Ramadan became a political rather merely than a private tradition and served as networking opportunities for politicians, bureaucrats, and businessmen. There was also a noticeable growth in proIslamic books, periodicals, and newspapers and an increase in the Islamic content of state-run television; both in explicitly religious programs and, more subtly, in documentaries, discussion programs, and even feature films.29 In July 1988, Özal not only became the first serving Turkish prime minister to perform the hajj to Mecca but ensured that the key moments of his pilgrimage were carried live on state-run television. In November 1989, shortly after becoming president, he chose to attend Friday noon prayers at Kocatepe Mosque, the largest and most public mosque in Ankara; well aware that, regardless of the fact he was technically attending as a private individual, both Kemalists and non-Kemalists would regard it as a symbolic gesture by someone who now occupied the office originally held by Atatürk. Özal continued the mosque-building program launched under military rule. During his six years in office, an average of 2,000 new mosques were built each year. By 1989, the Diyanet controlled 64,675 mosques, an increase of 18.3 percent on 1984 and well above the population growth rate of 11.9 percent over the same period. As had happened under the junta, mosques were also built in predominantly Alevi areas; although the government continued to refuse to grant permission for the opening of cem evis. Another eight İmam Hatip schools were opened in the period 1983 to 1989, taking the total to 383, while the number of students rose by 29 percent from 207,000

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to 267,000. During the same period, the total number of personnel employed in the Diyanet grew by 60.6 percent from 46,665 to 74,930. The number of Qur’an courses run by the Diyanet increased by 54.7 percent from 3,047 in 1983 to 4,715 in 1989 and the number of students by 47 percent from 100,263 to 147,379, of whom 95,332 were girls. Özal also intensified the junta’s attempts to tighten the state control over the practice of Islam amongst the Turkish gastarbeiter in Europe. In the period 1983 to 1989, the number of Diyanet personnel working outside Turkey rose from 270 to 628. On 5 July 1984, the Diyanet established its own organization in Germany. In an unmistakable reference to the Turkish-Islamic synthesis, it was called the Diyanet İşleri Türk-İslam Birliği (Turkish-Islamic Union for Religious Affairs or DİTİB). In addition to overseeing the activities of religious personnel sent from Turkey, DİTİB began holding Qur’an-reading and prayer-calling competitions and established a fatwa telephone hotline which Turkish citizens could call for religious rulings.30 Shortly after he became prime minister, Özal asked YÖK to ease the ban on girls wearing headscarves in universities. On 10 May 1984, YÖK published a ruling distinguishing for the first time between the başörtüsü and the türban and allowing some flexibility for those who “wore the turban in a modern manner.”31 Alarmed by what they saw as the encroachment of Islam into the public sphere, secularists began to apply pressure to YÖK to re-impose the total ban. In early January 1987, the tensions resulted in a public confrontation between Özal and Evren; with Özal declaring that the female students should be able to wear whatever they liked, while Evren called for a ban on them wearing anything forbidden by law—although there were no laws explicitly regulating female attire. On 8 January 1987, under pressure from Evren, YÖK published a new set of disciplinary regulations for university students which banned even the türban. Headscarfed students and their supporters staged a number of protests at universities across the country, including hunger strikes and boycotts of classes; but to no avail. However, the ban created practical problems in faculties of theology; not least because women had traditionally been obliged to cover their heads when reading from the Qur’an. On 24 May 1988, YÖK lifted the headscarf ban for theology students. On 1 November 1988 it went one step further and published a statement describing the türban as a modern item of clothing. Yet in practice, little changed. Most university administrators were staunch secularists and refused to implement any easing of the headscarf ban. On 16 November 1988, parliament passed a law that allowed university students to wear whatever they liked provided that their clothing did not infringe the principles of Kemalism enshrined in the constitution. But Evren refused to ratify it and sent the law back to parliament for reconsideration.32 On 4 December 1988, YÖK published a new set of regulations which allowed students to cover their necks and heads with a başörtüsü or türban “for reasons of religious belief.”33 On 10 December 1988, parliament passed a new law which confirmed the easing of restrictions contained in the latest YÖK regulations. This time Evren ratified the law and then applied to the Constitutional Court for it to be annulled. On 7 March 1989, the Constitutional Court annulled the law on the grounds that it violated the principle


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of secularism enshrined in the constitution. The başörtüsü and türban were once again forbidden. Yet the secularist establishment often appeared more concerned with the sartorial manifestation of religious belief in educational institutions than the content of their curricula. When he took office, Özal had appointed Vehbi Dinçerler (born 1940), who was also a follower of the Naqshbandi order, as Minister of Education. Dinçerler not only ensured that the teaching of history remained dominated by the Turkish-Islamic synthesis but, on 25 March 1985, sent out a letter to all schools instructing them not to teach evolution because it would give the students the impression that there was a conflict between religion and science. Dinçerler revised the educational program in the İmam-Hatip schools to include a more aggressive inculcation of the claim of the Turkish-Islamic synthesis that Turkishness was inseparable from Islam. The new program, which was published in 1985, stated that İmam-Hatip students should be taught that Turks had been the “leaders in the rise and dissemination of Islam throughout the world,” that Turkish national moral values and Islamic belief were not only compatible but fused in a natural whole, and that “amongst the fundamentals of the Turkish way of life is the need for the Islamic religion.”34 The Özal administration also became notorious for the scale on which it filled the bureaucracy with its supporters, a process known in Turkish as kadrolaşma. The practice had long been one of the main instruments by which Turkish politicians distributed patronage. However, under ANAP, kadrolaşma often assumed an ideological character, with ministers appointing people because of their beliefs rather than merely as a reward for loyalty. Secularist alarm at the increase in the number of conservatives in the bureaucracy was exacerbated by reports—some true, some false—of canteens in state institutions being closed during daylight hours during the month of Ramadan and of people being intimidated into observing the fast. In May 1985 there was an outcry in the secularist press when the ANAP mayor of the provincial town of Anıtkaya in central Anatolia attempted to ban the sale of tea and soft drinks in local cafes for the duration of Ramadan. ANAP also introduced Islamic banking into Turkey for the first time. On 16 December 1983, just a few weeks after he was sworn in as prime minister, Özal passed Decree No. 83/7506, which created the legal framework for the introduction of interest-free Islamic banking; although, in a sop to secularist sensitivities, the banks were to be known as Özel Finans Kurumlar (Special Finance Institutions or ÖFKs).35 Previously, pious Muslims had tended to avoid any contact with financial institutions which dealt in interest by converting their savings into gold or foreign currency and hiding them somewhere safe—often literally under their beds. Decree No. 83/7506 appears to have had two main goals: to bring these savings into the financial system; and to attract foreign investment from devout Muslims abroad, particularly in the Arab states. The first ÖFK, Al Baraka Türk, began operations in January 1985. It was followed in April 1985 by Faisal Finans. Both ÖFKs were Saudi-Turkish joint ventures.36 However, by the time the third ÖFK, the majority Kuwait-owned Kuveyt Türk Evkaf, began operating in March 1989, ÖFKs still accounted for less than 1 percent

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of the total assets of the banking sector. The main reason was that, in the high inflationary environment of the late 1980s, it was simply safer to convert savings into foreign currency or gold rather than gamble on the uncertain returns from the business ventures in which ÖFKs invested their funds. When he had himself appointed to the presidency, Özal had ensured that he was replaced as prime minister by Yıldırım Akbulut (born 1935), a stolid and deferential party loyalist. As a result, for the first eighteen months after he became president, Özal effectively continued to shape government policy through Akbulut. On 25 October 1990, the ANAP government passed Law No. 3670, which lifted all restrictions on clothing worn in institutions of higher education “provided that they do not contravene existing laws.”37 The opposition SHP applied to the Constitutional Court for the law to be annulled. On 9 April 1991, the Constitutional Court rejected the application on the grounds that its previous decision of 7 March 1989 had ruled that the headscarf was a violation of the constitution; and, because it forbade clothing which contravened existing laws, Law 3670 was not in itself in violation of the constitution. However, in the absence of the political will to enforce the ban, many universities chose simply to ignore the Constitutional Court’s decision and allow girls wearing the başörtüsü or türban once again to attend classes. Özal also sought to ease other restrictions on freedom of expression in order to create what he frequently referred to as a “talking Turkey.” On 1 March 1990, Magic Box, which was part-owned by Özal’s son Ahmet and soon changed its name to Star, became the first independent television channel in Turkey, circumventing the official state monopoly on broadcasting by having its programs beamed into the country by satellite. Other privately owned television and radio stations quickly followed.38 Article 163 of the Turkish Penal Code was finally repealed in April 1991, only to be replaced by a draconian Anti-Terrorism Law. The law was passed under intense pressure from the Turkish military and was primarily designed to combat the separatist Partiya Karkaren Kurdistan (Kurdistan Workers’ Party or PKK), whose first insurgency was then at its height.39 But the law’s definition of what constituted terrorism was so broad as to include any kind of activity that advocated changes to the secularist character of Turkish republic or even attempted “to undermine the authority of the state.”40 However, Özal’s elevation to the presidency had weakened his control over ANAP as a whole, especially over the hard-line Islamists and ultranationalists in the party who formed what they termed a Kutsal İttifak or “Holy Alliance” under the leadership of State Minister Mehmet Keçeciler (born 1944). Özal switched his support to the liberal wing of the party led by former Foreign Minister Mesut Yılmaz (born 1947), who successfully challenged Akbulut for the leadership of ANAP at an acrimonious party congress in June 1991. However, Yılmaz proved considerably less pliant than Akbulut. Within months of taking office, as his relationship with Özal deteriorated and with ANAP riven by internal divisions, Yılmaz called an early election. In the general election of 20 October 1991, the DYP won the largest share of the national vote with 27.0 percent, giving it 178 seats in parliament. The SHP finished second with 24.8 percent and eighty-eight seats, narrowly ahead of ANAP with


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24.0 percent and 115 seats. In order to cross the 10 percent threshold for representation in parliament, several leading members of the MÇP had run as candidates for the RP. As a result, the RP was able to win 16.9 percent, giving it sixty-two seats, of which nineteen were held by former members of MÇP. The only other party to cross the 10 percent threshold was the DSP with 10.8 percent and seven seats. On 20 November 1991, the DYP and the SHP formally established a coalition government under Demirel as prime minister. Demirel’s term in office lasted less than eighteen months and was characterized by a continuation of the tensions between the government and the presidential palace, particularly in foreign policy. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union in December 1991, Özal worked hard to strengthen relations with the newly independent, primarily Turkic-speaking, states of Central Asia. In his speeches to the Turkish public, Özal rekindled pan-Turkist dreams by repeatedly promising that the twenty-first century would witness a belt of Turkish influence stretching from the Adriatic to the Great Wall of China. On the morning of 17 April 1993, shortly after returning from a grueling eleven-day trip to Central Asia, Özal suffered a heart attack and died.41 Özal was succeeded by Demirel, who was formally elected president by parliament on 16 May 1993. Demirel was replaced as leader of the DYP by Tansu Çiller (born 1946), a glamorous, U.S.-educated professor of economics who had entered parliament for the first time in the October 1991 elections. On 25 June 1993, Çiller became Turkey’s first female prime minister—a position she was to hold until the next general elections in December 1995.

The Rise of the RP The DYP-SHP coalition proved no more capable than ANAP of providing economic stability or raising living standards. Nor did it attempt to tighten the regulatory environment or curb widespread corruption. If anything, the situation deteriorated. But it was under the DYP-SHP coalition that the social changes produced by Özal’s reform program first began to affect Turkish politics. Under the import-substitution regime, the Turkish private sector had been dominated by a handful of large, Istanbul-based companies which often enjoyed mutually beneficial relations with members of the bureaucratic and political elite in Ankara. In 1971, these large companies had formed their own business association known as the Türk Sanayicileri ve İşadamları Derneği (Turkish Industrialists’ and Businesspersons’ Association or TÜSİAD). However, during the 1980s, some of the traditional, family-owned, small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) of provincial Anatolia had begun to expand by targeting export markets, supported by a combination of government incentives and personal connections to conservative members of ANAP. Most were based in low-skill, labor-intensive sectors such as textiles, clothing, leather, and glass. The result was the emergence of what became known as “Anatolian Tigers”—a name that stuck even after many of them moved their company headquarters to Istanbul.

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Despite their increasing affluence, the owners of the Anatolian Tigers remained attached to conservative values. But in a volatile economic environment, where annual consumer inflation averaged nearly 74 percent in the period between 1990 and 1994, they usually preferred to finance their operations from their own resources rather than borrow money from the ÖFKs or take interest-bearing loans from traditional banks. Some established their own informal systems of Islamic financing by raising funds from thousands of small investors in Anatolia or the Turkish Diaspora in Europe. In theory, these small investors became shareholders in the companies concerned. However, they were rarely formally registered as such, trusting that the pious reputation of the companies’ owners would serve as sufficient guarantee against fraud or the misuse of their money. By the early 1990s, the growth of the Anatolian Tigers had begun to create an Islamist bourgeoisie. On 5 May 1990, a group of young Islamist businessmen established their own business association in opposition to TÜSİAD. They called it Müstakil Sanayici ve İş Adamları Derneği (Independent Industrialists’ and Businesspersons’ Association or MÜSİAD). From its establishment, MÜSİAD was an avowedly Muslim organization. Applications for membership from companies that were perceived as immoral or whose activities were deemed un-Islamic—such as those engaged in the production of alcoholic beverages—were explicitly discouraged. MÜSİAD sought to replace what its first president Erol Yarar (born 1960) described as the immoral, self-centered Homo Economicus of Western capitalism with Homo Islamicus, a business model which served the community and combined “high morality and high technology.”42 MÜSİAD also actively sought to boost economic ties with other Muslim countries, organizing foreign trips for delegations of its members and in 1993 establishing an annual international trade fair in Istanbul. By the mid-1990s, MÜSİAD had over 2,000 members and accounted for approximately 10 percent of Turkey’s total GNP. Significantly, almost 75 percent of MÜSİAD companies had been founded after 1980, compared with just 20 percent of the members of TÜSİAD. But Özal’s reforms had done little to raise the living standards of the mass of the population, whose moral sensibilities were as offended by the widespread corruption as their material well-being was eroded by continuing high inflation. While the collapse of communism meant that Islam now became the sole ideology of protest; particularly in the still-growing shantytowns that surrounded all of Turkey’s major cities, where it also provided solace amid the often brutal discordance of modern, urban life. In 1984 the urban population exceeded the rural population for the first time in Turkey’s history. With urbanization came increased access to education, particularly for girls. The overall adult literacy rate rose from 65.6 percent in 1980 to 79.2 percent in 1990. For women, the rate increased from 49.8 percent to 68.5 percent over the same period. In addition to the Turkish-Islamic identity that was now being inculcated through the state education system, the late 1980s and early 1990s witnessed a huge increase in the number of Islamic journals and magazines and the circulation of conservative daily newspapers. Previously, religious knowledge and ideas about


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the role of Islam in society had primarily been transmitted orally, either by imams and the tariqah or between generations within the family. However, the printed word increasingly came to rival or even surpass oral tradition. Although there were a small number of publications which explicitly advocated Shari’a law, the majority were more concerned with disseminating conservative values and creating an Islamic society rather than establishing an Islamic state. The easing of the state monopoly on broadcasting during the early 1990s also led to the appearance of Islamist television channels and radio stations, although again the emphasis was on values and lifestyles rather than explicit calls for political change. The Islamist media also reinforced a sense of membership of a supranational community of Muslims, which was often underpinned by a strong sense of Ottoman nostalgia. Conservative Turks tended not only to see themselves as members of a transnational community but to regard themselves as its past—and frequently also future—leaders. There is little doubt that the policies pursued by the United States and the European Union (EU) also played a role in the consolidation of a sense of Islamic identity. Even thought it was frequently distrusted and despised, ever since the late Ottoman Empire, Europe had always served as a benchmark for the standards to which Turks aspired. When Özal formally applied for membership of the EEC, he not only set a target but exposed Turks to the humiliation of rejection. If not all Turks were convinced of the benefits of membership, none wanted to be told that they were unworthy of accession. As a result, the announcement by the EEC on 18 December 1989 that it was deferring even assessing Turkey’s application for membership was regarded inside the country as a simple affront to national pride. More significant was the West’s response to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990 and the outbreak of ethnic violence in Bosnia two years later; not least because, as former provinces of the Ottoman Empire, both were regarded inside Turkey as being within the country’s sphere of interest. The vast majority of Turks were outraged by the disparity between the alacrity with which the West responded to the former and its reluctance to intervene militarily in the latter, despite overwhelming evidence of widespread atrocities by Christian Serbs against Muslim Bosnians. It was generally seen as proof that, despite the West’s claims to be motivated by ethics and human rights, in reality its sole concern was raw self-interest—in this case, the need to safeguard its supplies of cheap oil by expelling Iraq from Kuwait. Not surprisingly, the early 1990s witnessed a steady increase in electoral support for Erbakan’s explicitly Islamist and anti-Western RP. Under Turkish law, the RP could not openly advocate the abolition of the secular state without risking closure. In its public discourses the RP preferred to concentrate on promising that, once in power, it would introduce what it described as an adil düzen, or “just order”; which was understood to include not only a more equitable distribution of wealth but also a society informed and regulated by Islamic rules and ethics. However, in their writings and private conversations, leading members of the party made no secret of their support for the introduction of the Shari’a.43 Erbakan attacked what he described as the “slave order” created by the “interest-based capital system.”44 He claimed that the establishment of an interest-free

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system would result in the tripling of per capita purchasing power, leading to a massive increase in exports and the establishment of an Islamic Common Market dominated by Turkey.45 The RP’s theorists were often outspokenly critical of what they viewed as the Western model of democracy, describing it as the “Trojan horse of Western cultural imperialism.”46 They maintained that, in terms of its responsiveness to the wishes of the people, it lagged far behind the system established by the Prophet Muhammad in the seventh century.47 At its Fourth Congress in October 1993, the RP adopted a motion that called for the introduction of a system of multiple legal codes. The population would be divided according to belief and each community allowed to regulate itself under the overall authority of the Muslims, in a system similar to the Constitution of Medina. However, the RP’s rhetoric left little doubt that non-Muslims would, at best, be tolerated inferiors rather than equal partners. In their writings and speeches, the leaders of the RP remained virulently anti-Semitic and continued to rail against an improbably complex web of international Zionist conspiracies, frequently citing antiSemitic fabrications such as the Protocols of Elders of Zion to support their claims.48 Erbakan even based his party’s opposition to Turkey joining the EEC—which became known as the EU from 1 November 1993—on the grounds that it would eventually be run by Israel. He also blamed Israel, together with the United States and the West, for the escalating PKK-related violence in southeast Turkey. On 25 December 1992, Erbakan told parliament: “Terrorism is a Zionist plan. It is the realization of a scheme formulated by America and its predatory lackeys in the West and Zionist circles. What we see in Bosnia, Algeria, Cyprus, Azerbaijan, Palestine, Abkhazia and Kashmir we can also see in the PKK.”49 Although the party leadership was usually careful to avoid saying so in public, the RP was also anti-Alevi. Tensions between the Alevi minority and the Sunni majority had been suppressed, rather than eradicated, by the crackdown that followed the 1980 coup. In July 1993 they resurfaced in an attack on the annual Alevi arts festival, the Pir Sultan Abdal Şenliği,50 in the eastern Anatolian town of Sivas. The festival’s organizers had invited the humorist Aziz Nesin (1915–95), an outspoken atheist who had announced that he would publish a Turkish translation of The Satanic Verses, the controversial novel by British writer Salman Rushdie (born 1947). After noon prayers on Friday, 2 July 1993, a Sunni mob chanting antiAlevi and pro-Sunni slogans began gathering outside the Madımak Hotel in the center of Sivas, where the participants in the festival were staying. By the early evening, the mob had swelled to over 10,000 and some of the protestors began to attack and set fire to the hotel. Thirty-five of the Alevis attending the festival and two hotel employees died, almost all from smoke inhalation. Nesin managed to escape, although television cameras showed him being badly beaten by the firemen who had belatedly arrived to put out the blaze. Not only did the RP fail to issue an unequivocal condemnation of the incident, but one of its leading members, the lawyer Şevket Kazan (born 1933), volunteered to defend those accused of involvement.51 Despite such simplistic prejudices, the RP nevertheless developed the most sophisticated party organization and fundraising system in Turkey. It expanded the


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network of the foundations, cultural associations, and youth organizations established by the MSP. One of the most important was the Milli Gençlik Vakfı (National Youth Foundation or MGV), which had been established by the MSP in 1975 and had subsequently grown to become the largest youth organization in the country. By the early 1990s, the MGV had over 1,500 branches scattered throughout the country. In addition to hosting social activities, the MGV provided scholarships for tens of thousands of students from poor backgrounds, together with subsidized accommodation in nearly 150 dormitories. The MGV inculcated both conservative Islamic values and a strong sense of Ottoman nostalgia. For example, it organized annual rallies to celebrate 29 May, the anniversary of the conquest of Istanbul, which was also the date chosen for the foundation’s official foundation. As well as distributing largesse, the MGV played an important role in fundraising for the RP, particularly through the collection and subsequent sale of the hides of animals sacrificed during the annual festival of Eid al-Adha.52 In 1992 the DYPSHP coalition attempted to outlaw the practice by requiring that the hides—which the Turkish Treasury estimated at being worth around $25 million each year—be donated to one of a number of specified state institutions.53 However, the law proved difficult to enforce, and the hides remained a significant source of income both for the RP and a number of other Islamist organizations.54 Apart from individual donations from Islamist businesses, the RP’s other main source of funding was the AMGT in Germany, which by the early 1990s was believed to be channeling the equivalent of several million dollars a month to the party in Turkey.55 But the primary goal of the RP’s organizational network was to generate political rather than just financial support. Traditionally, electoral strategies in Turkey had been highly centralized. It was the party leader who made all the decisions and dispensed patronage in return for political support. It was also the party leader who was the main focus of the propaganda campaigns and public rallies, most of which were concentrated in the few months leading up to elections. The RP adopted a more subtle, long-term strategy which was based on integrating the party into local communities, particularly amongst the conservative masses in the countryside and the urban shantytowns. It was also the only party to understand that, by forming personal ties with local women, female party workers could establish much stronger bonds between the party and the local community than could any man. The RP developed databases of electoral districts and divided up neighborhoods between small groups of female party workers, who would visit the local women, talk with them, listen to their problems, attend family weddings and circumcisions, sometimes provide material support in the form of food and fuel, and even visit them when they were sick or hospitalized. For the female party workers, most of whom came from conservative backgrounds themselves, it was often a liberating experience and—not least because they were almost exclusively mixing only with other women—one of the few occasions when their husbands and fathers would allow them to work outside the home.56 In the local elections of 27 March 1994, the DYP won the largest share of the vote with 21.4 percent, ahead of ANAP with 21.0 percent. The RP finished third with 19.1 percent, up from 16.9 percent in the general elections of October 1991, when it had run on the same ticket as the MÇP. More significantly, the RP took

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control of the municipalities in twenty-eight provinces, including Istanbul, Ankara, Diyarbakır, Konya, and Kayseri; mainly as the result of the votes of the inhabitants of the sprawling shantytowns that surrounded each city. The local election results alarmed many Turkish secularists, some of whom started a fax campaign calling for a boycott of the conservative companies that were alleged to be financing the RP. Their fears were reinforced when, on 15 April 1994, the first meeting of the new Istanbul municipal assembly was opened with a prayer and one of the first acts of the new administration was to ban the sale of alcohol in all premises owned by municipality. But over the months that followed, the RP concentrated more on consolidating its popular support by providing services than on pursuing an ideological agenda. Initially at least, the RP also dramatically reduced the corruption that had characterized previous administrations. The RP had undoubtedly attracted some protest votes from discontented nonIslamists, particularly from Turkey’s restive Kurdish minority. But neither did it have a monopoly of the conservative vote. In July 1992, six of the more religiously oriented MPs from the MÇP broke away and, in January 1993, formed their own party, the Büyük Birlik Partisi (Great Unity Party or BBP) under the leadership of Muhsin Yazıcıoğlu (born 1954). The MÇP, which since January 1993 had been absorbed into the reformed Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (Nationalist Action Party or MHP), still contained many conservatives. There was also a conservative wing in ANAP; even if, following Özal’s death, most of the members of the Naqshbandi order had switched their support to the RP. While the DYP continued to attract the support of many Nurcus. The Nurcus had always been more fragmented than the traditional tariqah. There were around ten major Nurcu communities in Turkey, ranging from panIslamists to Kurdish groups such as the Med-Zehra,57 who saw Said Nursi as a pious Kurdish nationalist. However, the largest and most influential group comprised followers of Fethullah Gülen (born 1941), a preacher employed by the Diyanet. Gülen had been born in the village of Korucuk in the province of Erzurum in eastern Anatolia. He was taught Arabic and the basic tenets of Islam by his father. In 1958 Gülen was appointed to a mosque in Edirne in the province of Thrace. Four years later, he was transferred to the Mediterranean port of Izmir. While in Izmir, Gülen began providing religious instruction at summer camps. In 1971 he was arrested and spent seven months in jail, charged with illegally disseminating religious propaganda. Following the 1980 coup, the police once again initiated charges against him, but the military’s new strategy of instrumentalizing Islam as a force for social cohesion meant that he was never arrested. By the early 1990s, he had built up a huge following, mainly through his writings, sermons, and the energetic proselytizing of his devotees. To outsiders, Gülen’s writings are characterized more by a haze of gently worded emotion and calls for conciliatory engagement than cogently argued doctrine.58 His sermons tend to refer more to the hadith tradition than the text of the Qur’an; with Gülen himself often becoming so overcome with emotion that he breaks down in tears. Although his followers distributed audiocassettes and videos of Gülen’s sermons, the rapid growth of the movement was primarily text-driven. In addition


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to publishing magazines, books, and newspapers, Gülen’s followers formed a network of study groups throughout the country, which met regularly to discuss his writings. Gülen’s teachings include a strong element of nostalgia for the Ottoman Empire, which was cited both as a paradigm of tolerance and harmony and a societal template for modern Turkey to follow. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Gülen’s followers established a chain of schools across Central Asia. By the mid1990s, the movement was running approximately 125 schools in the former Soviet Union,59 which combined the teaching of modern sciences and foreign languages with the inculcation of conservative Islamic values and a Turkic identity. Inside Turkey, Gülen’s followers soon controlled a vast network of companies, nongovernmental organizations, charitable foundations, schools, publishing houses, and media organizations, including Zaman, one of the biggest-selling daily newspapers, and the Samanyolu television channel; all of which were bound together by a shared allegiance to Gülen’s teachings rather than being actively controlled by Gülen himself. No precise figures are available, but by the early 1990s estimates of the number of Gülen’s followers ranged from 500,000 to over one million. Many secularists suspected that Gülen’s moderate rhetoric hid a more radical long-term agenda. There were persistent rumors that his followers were trying to infiltrate the secular establishment, particularly the Turkish military. Starting in mid-1990s, the armed forces began regular purges of its ranks, expelling hundreds of officers suspected of Islamist sympathies; the vast majority because of alleged links to the Gülen movement.60 But the size of his following meant that Gülen was nevertheless courted by political leaders, including both Ecevit and Çiller; although Gülen consistently declined to endorse a specific political party. From late 1994 onwards, Çiller in particular also began to cultivate an image of public piety.61 On 6 March 1995, Turkey signed a Customs Union Agreement with the EU.62 The agreement was deeply unpopular with Turkish nationalists, who saw it as ceding a measure of sovereignty to Brussels and opening up the Turkish market to predatory European corporations. Çiller responded by hailing it as a major step towards full Turkish membership, publicly portraying accession as a tool for neo-Ottoman cultural and religious expansionism in which Turks would “take the adhan into Europe.” At the same time, new portraits of Çiller began to appear on the walls of the DYP’s branch offices, showing her wearing a headscarf while attending a mosque.63 During Çiller’s premiership, the number of mosques in Turkey grew by an average of 870 per year—an annual increase of just under 1 percent. However, the number of İmam Hatip schools rose by 140, of which 109 were opened in the 1995–96 academic year alone.64 By fall 1995, there were 495,580 students studying at İmam Hatip schools—approximately 13 percent of the total enrolment in the country’s middle and high schools. Nevertheless, when general elections were held on 24 December 1995, the RP won the largest share of the popular vote at 21.4 percent, giving it 158 seats in an expanded parliament of 550 members. ANAP finished second with 19.6 percent, narrowly ahead of the DYP with 19.2 percent; although geographical variations in the vote meant that the DYP received 135 seats to ANAP’s 132 seats. Ecevit’s DSP

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took 14.6 percent and seventy-six seats, while the reformed CHP under the leadership of Deniz Baykal (born 1938) received 10.7 percent and forty-nine seats.65 After months of negotiations, the DYP formed a coalition with ANAP in March 1996. But the government collapsed in less than three months as a result of the personal rivalry between Çiller and Yılmaz. In June 1996, the DYP and the RP announced that they had reached an agreement to form a government. The RPDYP coalition was formally established on 28 June 1996 and, as the leader of the larger party, Necmettin Erbakan became Turkey’s first avowedly Islamist prime minister.

The 28 February Process During his first months in office, Erbakan concentrated more on gestures rather than any substantive legislative changes. Six weeks after taking office, he served notice of his intention to change the orientation of Turkish foreign policy by choosing Iran as the destination for his first official foreign visit. On 10 August 1996, he flew to Tehran for a three-day visit on the first leg of a ten-day tour that included visits to Pakistan, Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia. While in Tehran, Erbakan signed a 22-year, $23 billion agreement to import natural gas from Iran.66 The agreement was in clear defiance of the Iran-Libya Sanctions Act (ILSA), which had been signed into force by U.S. President Bill Clinton on 5 August 1996 and which imposed sanctions on any foreign company which made an “investment” of more than $20 million in one year in Iran’s energy sector.67 At the 12 August 1996 signing ceremony for the natural gas agreement, Erbakan further antagonized the United States by publicly calling for a summit meeting between Turkey, Iran, Syria, and Iraq to discuss means of regional cooperation. On the same day, Justice Minister Şevket Kazan traveled to Baghdad, where he suggested that Turkey could consider applying the Iraqi system of reducing the prison sentences of convicts who had succeeded in memorizing the Qur’an. On 22 October 1996, Erbakan announced plans to form a Muslim alternative to the Group of Seven (G-7) of leading industrialized nations.68 What became known as the Developing Eight (D-8) comprised Bangladesh, Egypt, Indonesia, Iran, Malaysia, Nigeria, Pakistan, and Turkey. Erbakan appears to have hoped that the D-8 would establish a common market and eventually rival the EU. The organization was officially inaugurated at a summit of heads of state in Istanbul on 15 June 1997. But the realities of the member states’ disparate geographical, political, and economic interests meant that the D-8 never functioned effectively and rapidly became moribund. Political realities also prevented Erbakan from putting the RP’s anti-Semitic and anti-Israeli rhetoric into practice. On 23 February 1996, four months before Erbakan took office, Turkey and Israel signed a renewable five-year military training cooperation agreement. On the Turkish side, the agreement had been primarily negotiated by the military rather than the civilian government. The military was also keen to strengthen cooperation in the defense industry. Despite his personal reservations, on 28 August 1996, Erbakan signed a defense industry cooperation agreement


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between Turkey and Israel. On 8 December 1996, he approved a $632.5 million contract for Israel Aircraft Industries (IAI) to upgrade 54 Turkish F-4 Phantoms. During a visit to the United States in January 1997, the RP Minister of State Fehim Adak (born 1931) even met with Jewish lobbying organizations, such as the American Israeli Political Action Committee (AIPAC), and financial organizations with Jewish roots, including Solomon Brothers and Lehman Brothers. When reminded of the RP’s previous anti-Semitic rhetoric, Adak commented: “We can conduct business with Jews. If it is business and it suits you, then you do it.”69 During its first six months in office, the RP adopted a similarly pragmatic approach to domestic affairs. The party leadership carefully avoided any inflammatory rhetoric and concentrated primarily on trying to close Turkey’s growing public sector deficits. The RP announced a series of revenue-raising measures, all of which eventually fell far short of their targets.70 However, others in the party made it clear that they were merely biding their time. On 10 November 1996, at a ceremony to commemorate the anniversary of Atatürk’s death, Şükrü Karatepe (born 1949), the RP mayor of the central Anatolian city of Kayseri, declared: “Having to attend this ceremony makes me weep blood. This system should change. We have waited. We will wait a little longer. And let Muslims keep alive the resentment, rancor, and hatred they feel in their hearts.”71 The first direct challenges to the secular establishment came during Ramadan in early 1997. On 11 January 1997, Erbakan invited several tariqah leaders to a fastbreaking meal at the Prime Ministry. Two days, later on 13 January 1997, the Council of Ministers passed a decree reorganizing working hours in state institutions to make allowances for fasting during Ramadan; only for the decree to be annulled on 28 January 1997 by the country’s highest administrative court, the Danıştay (Council of State), on the grounds that it violated the principle of secularism in the Turkish Constitution. Nevertheless, television footage of tariqah sheikhs in their traditional robes and turbans arriving at the Prime Ministry galvanized the Turkish military. Islamist organizations had long been one of the main targets of Military Intelligence. A special body had also been established within the Turkish General Staff to monitor Islamist activity and entitled the Batı Çalışma Grubu, or “Western Working Group.” On 22–24 January 1997, the commanders of the armed forces held a meeting at the naval base at Gölcük on the Marmara Sea, at which they discussed a strategy to force the RP from office.72 Unlike in 1980, the military opted not to seize power directly but to catalyze opposition to the RP: coordinating initiatives by secularists in the judiciary, academia, and the media, and networking behind the scenes to try to erode the coalition’s parliamentary majority. At the MGK meeting of 28 January 1997, the military called on the government to take measures to curb the spread of Islamist propaganda. On 3 February 1997, the military served notice that it was prepared to back up its verbal warnings with force when it diverted a column of tanks through the Ankara suburb of Sincan after the local RP mayor, Bekir Yıldız (born 1964), made a speech in support of Shari’a law at an anti-Israel rally attended by the Iranian ambassador to Turkey. The judiciary followed the military’s lead. On 6 February 1997, Yıldız was arrested.73

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On 7 February 1997, Kemalist academics at Istanbul University held a public demonstration to affirm their determination to protect the secular education system. On 15 February 1997, women’s groups staged a march against Shari’a law in Ankara. On 26 February 1997, Turkey’s leading trade union confederations announced that they were joining forces to oppose any attempts to change the regime. At the MGK meeting of 28 February 1997, the military presented the civilian government with a list of eighteen anti-Islamist measures. The list had been drawn up by the MGK Undersecretariat in cooperation with the Western Working Group. The measures ranged from curbs on the Islamist media to the closure of private Qur’an courses.74 Heading the list was a proposal to extend compulsory continuous education from five to eight years and thus force the closure of the middle school sections of the İmam Hatip schools. The military claimed that the schools were used to inculcate anti-secularist values and were producing over 53,500 graduates a year, compared with the Diyanet’s annual intake of less than 2,300. After initially prevaricating, Erbakan finally agreed to forward the list to the Council of Ministers. On 14 March 1997, the measures were approved by parliament. Privately, however, RP officials insisted that the party could not afford to implement the measures without alienating its grass roots.75 At each subsequent MGK meeting, the military asked the government for a progress report on the implementation of the 28 February measures. During spring and early summer 1997, the Turkish General Staff also held a series of briefings for the media, judiciary, and business community, detailing what it regarded as the threat to secularism posed by the RP. The military declared that there were nineteen newspapers, 110 magazines, fifty-one radio stations, and twenty television channels engaged in Islamist propaganda in Turkey. It claimed that Islamists had established 2,500 associations, 500 foundations, more than 1,000 companies, 1,200 student dormitories, and over 800 private schools.76 The high command also tasked retired officers with informing trusted journalists that it was their “personal opinion” that a full-blooded coup remained an option of last resort.77 While serving officers visited trade union leaders to discuss their possible reaction to a military intervention78 and even approached former leftist extremists, including some who had been imprisoned and tortured in the wake of the 1980 coup, to ask for their cooperation in combating what they now described as a common enemy.79 Behind the scenes, the military applied pressure to members of the DYP to try to persuade them to resign from the government; while publicly undermining the RP’s public prestige by accusing it of withholding funds for military operations against the PKK. On 21 May 1997, Vural Savaş (born 1938), the Public Prosecutor of the Turkish Supreme Court, the Yargıtay, increased the pressure by applying to the Constitutional Court for the closure of the RP on the grounds that it was attempting to overthrow the constitution. Other courts began to move against companies believed to be financing the RP. On 17 June 1997, Kombassan, one of the largest conservative companies, had all of its assets frozen and was order to repay $101 million to its shareholders. Publicly, the RP leadership remained circumspect, unwilling to confront the military directly. Privately, they were both infuriated and unwilling to believe that


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the military would risk the international opprobrium that would result from a fullblooded coup.80 Nevertheless, with his parliamentary majority being steadily eroded by resignations from the DYP, on 18 June 1997, Erbakan submitted his government’s resignation. He appears to have expected President Demirel to ask Çiller to form a new administration. However, Demirel gave the mandate to ANAP leader Yılmaz, who succeeded in putting together a tripartite coalition with the DSP and the newly formed Demokrat Türkiye Partisi (Democratic Turkey Party or DTP), which comprised former members of the DYP. The new government formally took office on 30 June 1997. Over the months that followed, what became known as the “28 February Process” intensified and spread throughout the country. Encouraged by the military, the new government began to purge the civil service of suspected Islamists. State institutions were presented with a list of more than one hundred conservative companies that were to be boycotted. While numerous articles detailing the alleged threat from Islamic fundamentalism appeared in the secularist press—some were accurate, others were distorted. On 6 August 1997, the police raided the offices of the MGV at the beginning of a long judicial process that was eventually to result in the foundation’s closure on the grounds that it was inculcating young people with anti-secular sentiments.81 The authorities also closed down thousands of private Qur’an courses, which, though technically illegal as they lacked an official permit from the Diyanet, had been allowed to operate relatively openly. Many others simply went underground, downsizing and shifting to private apartments out of the public eye.82 Although the Yılmaz government did not enact any new laws, during the 1997–98 academic year, universities across the country began to issue new internal regulations banning the wearing of the headscarf with immediate effect. A small number of covered students opted to remove their headscarves or circumvent the ban by wearing a wig; the majority did not. Thousands of female students, many of them several years into long courses of study, were expelled from university literally overnight. Despite public protests and rallies throughout the country, the ban remained in place. The extension of elementary education from five to eight years was introduced in the academic year 1998–99. Along with their counterparts in the rest of the educational system, the intermediate sections of the İmam Hatip schools were closed down. The result was a decline not only in the number of students in the İmam Hatip system but also in demand for an İmam Hatip education. After peaking at 605 in the 1997–98 academic year, the number of İmam Hatip high schools fell to 500 in 2000–2001 and 450 in 2002–3. The number of students in İmam Hatip schools decreased from 511,500 in 1996–97 to 91,600 in 2000–2001 and 64,534 in 2002–3. There were also attempts to change Islamic practices; which were also largely inspired and encouraged from behind the scenes by the military. On 8 January 1998, the imam officiating at a funeral in Izmir flouted Islamic tradition by allowing women to pray alongside men. On 15 May 1998, at a religious ceremony in Ankara to commemorate members of the Turkish air force who had died on active service,

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the prayers and quotations from Qur’an were translated from Arabic into Turkish. However, although they received widespread coverage in the secularist media, the changes were not adopted by the population as a whole and the initiative was eventually abandoned. More successful were efforts to suppress the RP. On 16 January 1998, the Constitutional Court closed down the RP on the grounds that it had become a “center of activities contrary to the principle of secularism.” Erbakan, former Justice Minister Kazan, four other RP deputies, and Kayseri Mayor Karatepe were all banned from politics for five years. Privately, Chief of Staff General Hakkı Karadayı predicted that it would take the Islamist movement at least ten years to recover.83

Division and Generational Change Initially, Karadayı’s prediction appeared to be accurate. On 17 December 1997, as it became clear that the Constitutional Court was planning to outlaw the RP, some of Erbakan’s associates formed the Fazilet Partisi (Virtue Party or FP). Once the RP was formally dissolved, most of its former members joined the FP. The party’s inaugural congress on 14 May 1998 elected as its leader Recai Kutan (born 1930), a longtime confidante of Erbakan who had served as Energy Minister in the RP-DYP coalition. Few inside or outside the party doubted that Erbakan would effectively control the FP from behind the scenes. However, the FP was faced with a dilemma. If it appeared to be a continuation of the RP, then it risked closure by the Constitutional Court. Yet if it distanced itself from the RP, it might alienate the latter’s former supporters. In the end, it opted for a more moderate image, avoiding the Islamist rhetoric that had characterized the RP and repeatedly stressing its commitment to secularism, democratization, and freedom of speech. The party even appointed two middle-class women who did not cover their heads to its national executive: the journalist Nazlı Ilıcak (born 1944) and the academician Oya Akgönenç (born 1939). The FP also abandoned the RP’s outspoken hostility to the United States and the EU. Through 1998 and early 1999, leading members of the FP actively courted the West, traveling to Europe and the United States to meet politicians and government officials while publicly declaring their support for Turkish membership of the EU; although skeptics maintained that this was because the party hoped that the EU’s insistence on civil control of the military would protect it against the Turkish General Staff. On 25 November 1998, Yılmaz’s tripartite coalition collapsed amid allegations of corruption. It was succeeded by a DSP minority government, headed by Ecevit as prime minister, to take the country through to early elections on 18 April 1999. The FP’s election manifesto promised to accelerate privatization, model Turkey’s state institutions on those in Europe, strengthen the country’s ties with the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and reduce the overall tax burden. It also included commitments to prevent secularism being used to suppress religion, resurrect the middle school sections of İmam Hatip schools by introducing an element of choice after the fifth year of compulsory elementary


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education, and lift the restrictions on the subjects graduates of İmam Hatip schools could study at university.84 But the political agenda was transformed by the capture in Kenya on 15 February 1999 of PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan and his return to Turkey to face trial.85 Many Turks held Öcalan personally responsible for the approximately 35,000 deaths incurred during the fifteen years of the PKK insurgency. His capture was an electoral godsend not only to Ecevit but, by triggering a massive upsurge in euphoric nationalism, to the already resurgent MHP. In the general election of 18 April 1999, many of those who had previously voted for the RP shifted their support to the MHP and the DSP. As a result, the FP received only 15.4 percent of the vote and 111 seats. The elections were won by the DSP with 22.2 percent and 136 seats, ahead of the MHP with 18.0 percent (129 seats), ANAP with 13.2 percent (eighty-six seats), and the DYP with 12 percent (eighty-five seats). The remaining three seats were won by independents. The DSP, MHP, and ANAP subsequently formed a tripartite coalition government under Ecevit as prime minister. The FP’s parliamentary candidates had included eight headscarfed women. But only Merve Kavakcı (born 1968) won a seat and, together with Ilıcak and Akgönenç, became one of three female FP deputies. Extraordinarily, neither Kavakcı nor the FP leadership understood that the presence of a headscarfed deputy in parliament would be interpreted by the party’s opponents as a direct assault on secularism.86 On 2 May 1999, accompanied by Ilıcak, Kavakcı entered the chamber for the official swearing-in ceremony. The result was uproar. Secularist female MPs from the DSP formed a human chain around the rostrum, while their male colleagues bellowed abuse at Kavakcı and demanded her expulsion from the chamber. Kavakcı finally left without taking her oath and her membership of parliament was annulled. On 7 May 1999, the Public Prosecutor applied to the Constitutional Court for the FP’s closure on the grounds that it had become a center for anti-secular activity. Secularist fears of an Islamist agenda were reinforced on 19 June 1999, when the ATV national television channel broadcast two videocassettes of the Nurcu leader Fethullah Gülen addressing his followers in a closed meeting. Although the provenance, context, and date of the cassettes remained unclear, they appeared to show Gülen instructing his followers to infiltrate critical parts of the apparatus of state, bide their time, avoid confrontation, and present a moderate image until they were strong enough to implement their agenda.87 Gülen’s supporters claimed that the cassettes were part of a defamation campaign and had been edited to distort his original words. Nevertheless, on 21 March 1999, amid rumors that elements in the judiciary were preparing to file charges against him, Gülen left for the United States, ostensibly for a health checkup.88 The cassettes intensified secularist suspicions not just of the Gülen movement but of Islamists in general. An uninspiring public speaker, Kutan lacked either Erbakan’s authority or his political charisma. The humiliating debacle of Kavakcı’s failed attempt to enter parliament had already raised questions about his political acumen. With the FP increasingly forced onto the defensive, the party leadership appeared caught between their radical Islamist instincts and an awareness of the

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need to avoid confrontation. The result was confusion and contradiction. Indeed, the FP’s long-term goals often seemed more of a mystery to its supporters than to its unremittingly distrustful opponents. The frustration intensified already simmering discontent among a younger generation of party members, headed by Tayyip Erdoğan (born 1954), the FP mayor of Istanbul. Erdoğan was born in Kasımpaşa, a working-class district of Istanbul, to a pious family of first-generation migrants from the eastern Black Sea province of Rize. He attended an İmam Hatip school before joining the MSP while he was at university, when he also became active in the Milli Türk Talebe Birliği (National Turkish Student Union or MTTB) and the İskenderpaşa lodge of the Naqshbandi tariqah. When the MSP was banned, Erdoğan became a member of the RP, working his way up through the party hierarchy before successfully standing for mayor of Istanbul in the local elections of 27 March 1994. During his term in office, Erdoğan oversaw major improvements in municipal services and infrastructure. But he also shunned Istanbul’s large Western diplomatic and journalistic community and forbade alcohol at all facilities owned by the municipality. In 1993 he famously described democracy as “a vehicle which you ride as far as you want to go and then get off,” adding: “There is no room for Kemalism or any other official ideology in Turkey’s future.”89 Erdoğan continued to court controversy after taking office, declaring that: “All schools should be İmam Hatip Schools” (1994);90 “Praise be to God, we support Shari’a law” (1994);91 “Parliament should be opened with prayers” (1996);92 and “the day is approaching when the president will be an İmam Hatip graduate.”93 On 12 December 1997, during a speech in the southeastern town of Siirt, Erdoğan recited a poem by Ziya Gökalp which included the lines: “The mosques are our barracks, the minarets our bayonets, the domes our helmets and the believers our soldiers.” Even though Ziya Gökalp’s writings had deeply influenced Kemalist ideology—and the same poem was included in a list of recommended reading for elementary school students published by the Turkish Ministry of Education—the Public Prosecutor decided to press charges. On 21 April 1998, Erdoğan was convicted of inciting religious hatred under Article 312 of the Turkish Penal Code and sentenced to ten months in prison. After an unsuccessful appeal, Erdoğan began his sentence on 26 March 1999. By the time he was released early for good behavior on 24 July 1999, his conviction and imprisonment had transformed him into a national figure; and added the luster of martyrdom to his reputation as an effective local administrator, Article 76 of the 1982 Constitution banned those convicted of “involvement in ideological and anarchistic activities, or incitement and encouragement of such activities” from running for parliament, which effectively barred Erdoğan from holding political office. If Erbakan had still been FP chairman, it is doubtful whether any of the younger generation would have dared challenge him. But, in an unprecedented public display of internal divisions in the Islamist movement, at the FP congress in May 2001, the younger generation put forward Abdullah Gül (born 1950) to stand against Kutan for the party leadership. Born in the Central Anatolian town of Kayseri, Gül had studied economics at Istanbul University, where he became active in the MTTB, before spending two


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years as a postgraduate student in the United Kingdom. After returning to Turkey to pursue an academic career, he had worked at the Islamic Development Bank in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, from 1983 to 1991 before successfully standing as a RP candidate in the October 1991 general election. During the 1996–97 RP-DYP coalition, he served as a state minister and government spokesman. Prior to the 1999 elections, Gül had repeatedly advocated an easing of the existing interpretation of secularism, including the lifting of the headscarf ban, and called for closer ties between Turkey and the Muslim countries of the Middle East. On 8 September 1988, he had staged a highly publicized—and inevitably unsuccessful—attempt to have his headscarfed wife Hayrinüsa (born 1965) registered as student at Ankara University. In the FP leadership election of 14 May 2001, Gül lost by 521 votes to Kutan’s 633. But the narrowness of Kutan’s victory cemented the division in the party. When the Constitutional Court formally closed the FP on 22 June 2001, the Islamist movement split. On 20 July 2001, the older generation of Erbakan loyalists established the Saadet Partisi (Felicity Party or SP) under Kutan’s chairmanship. On 14 August 2001, the younger generation, led by Erdoğan and Gül, founded the Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (Justice and Development Party or AKP). Two days later, Erdoğan was elected as the AKP’s first chairman with Gül as his deputy.

The AKP From the AKP’s perspective, the timing of its foundation could hardly have been better. Through 2000 and into 2001, the Ecevit government had been riven by disputes between the coalition partners and dogged by persistent allegations of widespread corruption. In February 2001, a run on the Turkish Lira had triggered the worst economic recession in living memory. In 2001 as a whole, Turkish GNP contracted by 9.5 percent, forcing the Evecit government to implement an IMF-backed Economic Stabilization Program. From its inception, the AKP sought to portray itself as a conservative rather than a religious party. When Erdoğan held a press conference to launch the party, the hall was draped with a huge portrait of Atatürk and all present were asked to observe a minute’s silence in Atatürk’s memory. After the press conference was over, Erdoğan and the other founding members of the party departed to pay their respects at the Anıtkabir. Although the AKP was based around a decision-making core of former members of the FP, the party also recruited Nurcus, members of the conservative wing of ANAP, supporters of the MHP, and even a handful of disgruntled leftists. In his public speeches, Erdoğan repeatedly reiterated the AKP’s commitment to democracy, freedom of speech, clean government, and Turkish membership of the EU. He distanced himself from the radicalism of his pre-imprisonment career, insisting that he had changed; although he was reluctant to explain how or why.94 Turkish political parties have traditionally been dominated by their leaders. Erdoğan promised that the AKP would be different. The party’s founding statutes limited the leader’s authority and included a large measure of decentralization.

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In order to underline his determination to stamp out corruption, Erdoğan encouraged others to refer to the party as the AK Partisi, or simply AK, which in Turkish means “white” or “clean.” However, it is also unlikely that he was unaware of the resonance that AK would have for the former members of the radical MSPaffiliated organizations of the 1970s, such as Ak-Der and Ak-Genç. As its logo, the AKP chose a light bulb, which it claimed represented enlightenment. However, the shape of filament was more reminiscent of the traditional table used to hold the Qur’an than anything found in a modern light bulb. While the emphasis on light can hardly have failed to appeal to followers of Said Nursi and his concept of the divine light, or nur. In December 2001, the AKP published a sixty-five-page Development and Democratization Program, which it said would form the basis of its policies once it took power. Most of the program was composed of vague principles. However, it restated the AKP’s commitment to Kemalism, declaring: “Our Party regards Atatürk’s principles and reforms as the most important vehicle for raising the Turkish public above the level of contemporary civilization and sees this as an element of social peace.”95 It defined secularism as: “A principle which allows people of all religions and beliefs to comfortably practice their religions, to be able to express their religious convictions and live accordingly, but which also allows people without beliefs to organize their lives along these lines.”96 However, it also implied that the AKP would attempt to change the way in which secularism had been interpreted by the Kemalist establishment, stating that the party “rejects the interpretation and distortion of secularism as enmity against religion.”97 On 10 December 1999, Turkey was finally named as an official candidate for EU membership. On 6 February 2002, the Ecevit government introduced the first of a series of political reforms, known popularly as “EU harmonization packages,” to bring Turkish legislation more closely into line with the body of EU law known as the acquis communautaire. A second package was passed on 26 March 2002. However, a third set of reforms, which included a proposal to abolish capital punishment in peacetime, was vigorously opposed by the MHP. On 31 July 2002, with the coalition deeply divided, the government called an early general election on 3 November 2002.98 Although Erdoğan was still banned from running for public office himself, he nevertheless headed the AKP’s election campaign in his capacity as party chairman. The AKP’s election program was based on the Development and Democratization Program and entitled Her Şey Türkiye İçin (Everything for Turkey). During his campaign speeches, Erdoğan shied away from detailing how the party would address the headscarf ban. At a rally in the southeastern town of Mardin on 29 September 2002, he reminded party supporters that his wife and two daughters all wore headscarves. “I live this problem every day in my family,” he said. “We should solve it through social reconciliation. Let’s not make it a source of political tension.”99 Although women wearing headscarves formed a large proportion of the AKP’s female membership, none were included in its list of candidates for parliament.


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However, the AKP’s election program did include a commitment to removing the discrimination faced by graduates of İmam Hatip schools in the university entrance examination.100 The program also explicitly supported Turkey’s continued membership of NATO. In addition to promising stronger ties with the countries in the region, it pledged “to keep relations with European countries at the very top of Turkey’s foreign policy agenda.”101 In the most striking contrast with the election manifestos of the AKP’s predecessors, the program declared that the party would “continue the long-standing cooperation in defense with the United States and expand it into closer cooperation in the economy, investments, science and technology.”102 It also noted that: “Since the 9/11 attacks on the United States, terrorism has become a defining factor of international politics. Our party will give importance to developing an international platform against terrorism and to Turkey cooperating on this platform in the struggle against terrorism.”103 Yet such explicit commitments were rare. In general, the AKP program was stronger on good intentions than specifics. Perhaps more importantly, for many electors, the AKP appeared to represent something new—an alternative to what were widely regarded as the corrupt and incompetent parties in parliament. Although most of the AKP leadership consisted of former members of RP, few had served in positions of authority in the RP-DYP coalition, making it easier for them to be disassociated from its record in power. In the elections of 3 November 2002, the AKP won 34.3 percent of the vote, giving it 363 seats in parliament, ahead of the CHP with 19.4 percent of the vote and 178 seats. The remaining nine seats were won by independents. In a damning indictment of an entire generation of political leaders, none of the parties that had won seats in the previous election managed to cross the 10 percent threshold. Kutan’s SP won just 2.5 percent of the vote and faded to the margins of the political arena. Surveys of AKP voters suggested that it had gained the support of 69.1 percent of those who had voted for the FP in the 1999 elections. Perhaps more significantly, it had also attracted a significant proportion of support from those who had voted for other parties in 1999: 38.1 percent from the MHP, 28.7 percent from ANAP, 21.5 percent from the DYP, and 26.9 percent of first-time voters.104 Although the AKP continued to reject suggestions that it was an Islamist party, there was little doubting its supporters’ piety. A survey by Istanbul’s Bosphorus University conducted in late fall 2002 found that 90 percent of AKP voters prayed at least once a day and that 99 percent fasted during Ramadan. A total of 81 percent saw themselves as Muslims first and Turks second, while 60 percent said that religious values took precedence over national values, democracy, human rights, or secularism. Although only 44 percent thought that all Muslim women should cover their heads, 93 percent wanted the AKP to lift the headscarf ban. Fifty-five percent believed that the educational system should be organized according to Islamic principles, compared with 65 percent for laws on adultery and 51 percent for the criminal code. A further 60 percent favored the introduction of an interest-free financial system.105 Although many had voted for him, few secularists had any confidence in the ability of CHP leader Baykal to mount an effective opposition to the AKP, particularly

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given the latter’s commanding majority in parliament. Their hopes of preventing the implementation of what they suspected was the AKP’s undeclared long-term radical Islamist agenda thus rested not on the CHP but on the three bastions of the Kemalist establishment: the military, the judicial system, and the presidency. The latter was now occupied by Ahmet Necdet Sezer (born 1941), a former head of the Constitutional Court who had succeeded Demirel on 16 May 2000. The AKP’s election victory came just months after the appointment of General Hilmi Özkök (born 1940) as chief of staff at the end of August 2002. Mildmannered and unassertive, Özkök was—unusually for a leading commander—also personally very devout. Although he appeared to be a committed Kemalist, his personal piety meant that he was less alarmed than the majority of his subordinates by the prospect of an AKP government. The first confrontation between the AKP and the Kemalist establishment came two weeks after the election. On 16 November 2002, Sezer asked Gül, as the highestranking member of the AKP in parliament, to form a government. On 18 November 2002, Sezer refused to ratify Gül’s choice of Beşir Atalay (born 1947) as Education Minister on the grounds that, during the 28 February Process, he had been dismissed from his position as rector of Kırıkkale University for alleged anti-secularist activities. Gül was forced to name Atalay as a minister without portfolio and appoint a well-known moderate, Erkan Mumcu (born 1963), to the education ministry. The AKP had appointed Bülent Arınç (born 1948) as the new parliamentary speaker. A lawyer by profession, Arınç had been a member of the MTTB in his youth. During the election campaign, he had repeatedly promised that once in power the AKP would repay what he described as a “debt of honor”106 and lift the headscarf ban. Under Turkish protocol, the parliamentary speaker deputizes for the president whenever the latter leaves the country. On 20 November 2002, Sezer flew to Prague to attend a NATO summit. He was seen off at the airport by Arınç, who was accompanied by his headscarfed wife. To the Turkish military, the participation of a headscarfed woman at what was regarded as a state ceremony was an assault on secularism. On 28 November 2002, Turkey’s leading commanders, headed by Özkök, delivered a wordless warning to Arınç by visiting him in his office, sitting in complete silence for a few minutes, and then standing up and leaving. On 9 December 2002, the military presented Gül with a dossier detailing what it described as the threat posed to secularism by “Islamic fundamentalists.” The military claimed that there were 13,000 Islamist activists in the civil service and that anti-secular groups controlled 280 private schools, 750 major corporations, 769 associations, 348 charitable foundations, and even 12 trade unions.107 Over the next few months, Gül’s government avoided any more confrontations and concentrated on building on the two main initiatives bequeathed to it by the previous administration; namely, the economic stabilization program agreed with the IMF in the wake of the currency collapse of February 2001 and the political reform program to try to secure a date for the opening of formal accession negotiations with the EU. On 2 December 2002, Turkey’s Supreme Electoral Board announced a rerun of the election in the province of Siirt, citing a string of voting irregularities during the 3 November 2002 poll. The date of the rerun was set for 9 March 2003. On 2


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January 2003, as part of a package of EU-inspired legislative reforms, parliament approved a series of constitutional amendments which eased the restrictions on convicted felons holding political office.108 With the way now open for him to enter parliament, on 2 February 2003 Erdoğan pushed through a series of amendments to the AKP’s statutes, replacing its original constraints on the leader’s authority with a centralized hierarchy in which virtually all power was concentrated in his own hands. As the Turkish press began publishing details of pending court cases involving allegations of fraud and malpractice by members of the AKP government before they came to power, the party quietly dropped a pre-election pledge to limit parliamentary immunity. But in the run-up to the by-election in Siirt, the political agenda became dominated not by domestic concerns but by the preparations for the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. Despite the commitment to closer cooperation in the AKP’s election program, most of the party’s supporters remained almost instinctively anti-American. Through 2002 and early 2003, Washington’s preparations for a military campaign to oust Iraqi President Saddam Hussein provided a purchase for their prejudices. Almost all saw the United States’ claims that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction merely as a pretext to try to seize control of the oil reserves of a country which, as a former part of the Ottoman Empire, they still regarded as being in Turkey’s rightful sphere of influence. But the AKP leadership was faced with a dilemma. They knew that they needed good relations with Washington more than they wanted them; not least because United States backing was seen as vital to ensuring that the IMF and the World Bank continued to support Turkey’s economic recovery program. There was also considerable concern in Ankara that, if it refused to participate in the coming U.S.led military campaign, it would be unable to influence the shape of post-Saddam Iraq. Many were worried that, following Saddam’s defeat, the Iraqi Kurds would establish a distinct political entity in the north of the country, something which they feared could fuel separatist sentiments amongst Turkey’s own Kurdish minority. Throughout 2002 and early 2003, the AKP avoided making a clear commitment to supporting the United States, hoping to defuse the likely domestic outcry by securing a huge aid package. In mid-February 2003, after weeks of haggling, the two countries finally agreed on a package of donations and loans worth a total of approximately $30 billion. The AKP announced that on 1 March 2003 it would present a motion to parliament to allow U.S. troops to transit Turkey and open a second front in northern Iraq to support the main invasion force driving north out of Kuwait. However, on 24–25 February 2003, Turkish newspapers reprinted a series of cartoons that had appeared in the foreign press, several of which depicted Turkey as a grubby bazaar merchant willing to sell his soul to the highest bidder. On 25 February 2003, Nureddin Coşan (born 1963), the leader of the İskenderpaşa lodge of the Naqshbandi tariqah, issued a statement calling on parliament to reject the government motion.109 On the morning of 1 March 2003, Erdoğan chaired a meeting of the AKP parliamentary party at which he was reassured that the motion would have their full support when it was put to the vote that evening. However, when it came to the actual

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vote, mindful of the depth of public opposition to U.S. military action against Iraq and still stung by the insulting cartoons, around one hundred AKP MPs failed to vote with the government. Although the motion passed by 264–250, with nineteen abstentions, it was three votes short of the constitutional requirement of a majority of those who participated in the vote. On 9 March 2003, with relations between Turkey and the United States facing their worst crisis in a generation, Erdoğan was duly elected in the Siirt by-election. On 14 March 2003, he was formally appointed prime minister and Gül became foreign minister. Erdoğan began his first speech to parliament by effusively praising Atatürk. But the military, at least, was unimpressed. On 23 April 2003, the high command boycotted a reception held by Arınç when it learned that it would be co-hosted by his headscarfed wife. Six weeks later, on 4 July 2003, relations between Turkey and the United States suffered another blow when U.S. troops detained eleven members of the Turkish Special Forces in the northern Iraqi city of Sulaymaniyah following intelligence reports that they were planning to assassinate a local Iraqi Kurdish official—an accusation vehemently denied by the Turkish military. However, relations with Turkey’s other Western ally, the EU, appeared to be flourishing. During the first seven months of 2003, the AKP passed three more EU harmonization packages. On 3 October 2001, the Ecevit government had a passed a series of constitutional amendments which had increased the civilian membership of the MGK by including the justice minister and any deputy prime ministers and replaced the requirement that the Council of Ministers give “priority consideration” to its recommendations with an obligation that it be merely “notified” of them.110 On 30 July 2003, as part of its EU reform program, the AKP abolished the requirement that the MGK secretary general be a serving member of the military111 and, perhaps more importantly, halved the regular meetings of the MGK from once a month to once every two months;112 thus making it much more difficult for the military to use the MGK as an instrument of sustained pressure. The reforms exacerbated growing frustration within the Turkish officer corps at Özkök’s reluctance to be more assertive in his dealings with the AKP government. At the time, opinion polls suggested that domestic support for Turkey’s EU bid was running at 70 to 75 percent. Özkök was undoubtedly aware that any overt military interference in the political arena would antagonize the EU and could jeopardize Turkey’s chances of receiving a date for the official opening of accession negotiations; which, given the level of domestic popular support for membership, would also damage the military’s public prestige. Özkök reassured his subordinates that he took every opportunity during his weekly meetings with Erdoğan to remind him of the AKP’s responsibility to preserve Atatürk’s secular legacy. But they had no way of knowing for sure. Unlike his predecessors, Özkök met with the prime minister alone. In late summer 2003, the AKP began to formulate a draft law to remove the discrimination faced by İmam Hatip school graduates in the university entrance examination. On 9 September 2003, the commander of the Turkish Land Forces, General Aytaç Yalman (born 1940), met with university rectors to discuss a strategy to oppose the new law. On 14 September 2003, Özkök issued a statement


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dismissing suggestions that Yalman had been acting on his own initiative and attempted both to warn the AKP and reassure his subordinates by declaring: “It is natural that developments related to the national education system which is of such vital importance to Turkey should be followed closely and carefully by the Turkish Armed Forces.”113 On 13 October 2003, the Deputy Chief of Staff, General İlker Başbuğ (born 1943), bluntly questioned the motives behind the planned educational reforms. He noted that, of the 25,000 students who graduated from the İmam Hatip schools each year, only 2,500 continued their studies at a faculty of theology; while the total annual recruiting requirement of the Diyanet was just 5,500.114 The AKP subsequently postponed trying to push the draft bill through parliament. However, tensions between Yalman and Özkök resurfaced at the end of 2003. On 29 December 2003, a leading AKP MP, Fehmi Hüsrev Kutlu (born 1961), angrily complained that the portraits in parliament of Atatürk in military uniform made him feel as if he was imprisoned in a barracks. In an unprecedented break with the military hierarchy, on 30 December 2003 Yalman issued a furious public condemnation of Kutlu without first clearing his statement with Özkök. Relations between Yalman and Özkök eased again through early 2004. On 3 March 2004, Özkök delivered his most explicit warning to date to the AKP government when he dispatched Yalman at the head of a delegation of virtually all of the high command to attend a conference organized by a Kemalist NGO, the Atatürkçü Düşünce Derneği (Association for Kemalist Thought or ADD), to mark the eightieth anniversary of Atatürk’s abolition of the caliphate. Surrounded by television cameras, the military delegation occupied the entire front row in the auditorium and vigorously applauded as a succession of speakers affirmed their determination to defend secularism at whatever cost.115 But the pressure from the military appeared to have little impact on the AKP’s popularity. In the absence of an effective political opposition and with the economy continuing to rebound strongly from the recession of 2001, in the local elections of 28 March 2004, the AKP increased its share of the national vote to 41.7 percent. The CHP finished a distant second with 18.3 percent. Apparently emboldened by its success, on 4 May 2004 the AKP announced details of a package of educational reforms, including abolishing the discrimination faced by İmam Hatip graduates in the university entrance examination. On 6 May 2004, the Turkish General Staff responded by issuing a statement warning the government that it regarded the reforms as “designed to damage the principles of secular education.”116 Yet the government appeared undeterred, even defiant. Erdoğan retorted that: “No one should try to put pressure on the will of the people. If they do, they will see Parliament’s response.”117 In the early hours of 13 May 2004, the reform package was approved by parliament. On 28 May 2004, Sezer vetoed the bill on the grounds that it was incompatible with the constitutional principle of secularism. Faced with the combined opposition of the military and the presidency, the AKP backed down. On 3 July 2004, Erdoğan ruefully admitted: “As a government we are not ready to pay the price.”118

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Although it was reluctant to confront it directly, the AKP nevertheless continued to erode the influence of the military within the state apparatus. On 14 July 2004, parliament approved another EU harmonization package, which included the removal of the right of the chief of staff to nominate candidates to the boards of YÖK and RTÜK.119 The AKP had hoped that the reform package would seal a date for the opening of accession negotiations when EU leaders met later in the year. One of the main obstacles to Turkish membership had been the continuing division of Cyprus. The international community continued to recognize the Greek Cypriot government of the Republic of Cyprus as exercising sovereignty over the entire island. While Turkey had 35,000 troops deployed in the north of the island to support the breakaway Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), which was only recognized by Ankara. The EU had already pledged to accept the Republic of Cyprus as one of ten new members on 1 May 2004—a move which would effectively leave Turkey occupying the territory of an EU member state. In January 2004, the AKP government had persuaded the Turkish Cypriots to return to the negotiating table. On 24 April 2004, a United Nations (UN) plan120 to reunite the island had been put to twin referenda in the north and the south of the island. The Turkish Cypriots had voted for acceptance by 64.9 percent to 35.1 percent, while the Greek Cypriots had rejected the plan by 75.8 percent to 24.2 percent. One week later, on 1 May 2004, the Republic of Cyprus officially acceded to the EU. The AKP had hoped that its support for the UN’s reunification efforts would offset any negative consequences of Greek Cypriot accession. However, during summer 2004, the EU made it clear that Turkish accession would depend on Ankara extending its Customs Union to encompass the ten new members; including the Republic of Cyprus, which Turkey had long refused to recognize. EU officials also complained that many of the changes in the reform packages that the AKP had already legislated had yet to be fully implemented. The criticisms highlighted the failure of the AKP leadership to understand that meeting EU standards meant more than merely passing legislation; and, with their attention focused on the potential benefits of Turkey entering the EU, they appeared unable to understand extent to which accession would also bring the EU into Turkey. The gulf in understanding was graphically demonstrated in September 2004, when Erdoğan introduced a clause criminalizing adultery into a draft bill to reform the Turkish Penal Code. When EU officials expressed concern about criminalizing what was essentially a private matter, Erdoğan angrily retorted that the EU had no right to interfere in Turkey’s internal affairs; before rapidly backing down and dropping the adultery clause when EU officials made it clear that it would prevent Turkey from receiving a date for the opening of accession negotiations.121 The debacle reinforced the doubts of opponents of Turkish accession in Europe while fuelling growing disillusion with the EU process in the AKP. Many had long suspected that the EU was only interested in freedom for its own ideas and values—a suspicion which was heightened by the contrast between the vehemence of the EU’s protests over the adultery clause and its silence when a ban on Islamic headscarves was introduced in French schools on 2 September 2004.122


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At their summit meeting in Brussels on 16–17 December 2004, EU leaders finally agreed to open official accession negotiations with Turkey on 3 October 2005. But privately AKP officials admitted that what they had once expected to be a national triumph was, at most, a Pyrrhic victory. The EU had made it clear that talks could not begin without a clear commitment from Turkey to extend its Customs Union to include the Republic of Cyprus. While Turkish suspicions that the EU would never accept it as a full member, regardless of whether it fulfilled all the political and economic criteria, were reinforced by the inclusion in the final summit declaration of a statement that the opening of negotiations was no guarantee of eventual membership—the first time any such caveat had been issued to a potential member. The tensions with the EU came at a time when Turkey was already engaging more actively with the rest of the Muslim world. On 25 June 2004, Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu (born 1943) became the first Turk to be elected Secretary General of the OIC and officially took up his post in January 2005. The AKP paid particular attention to strengthening its political and economic ties with Iran and Syria. In theory, the policy was based on what Ahmet Davutoğlu (born 1959), a former academic who now served as Erdoğan’s chief foreign policy advisor, described as “strategic depth.”123 Davutoğlu maintained that the emphasis of previous governments on relations with Europe and the United States had created an imbalance in Turkey’s foreign policy, which needed to be redressed by a more active engagement with the region. His argument was based on economic and strategic considerations, but to the members of the AKP its appeal was primarily emotional; not least because of its implicit vision of Turkey as a neo-Ottoman regional power. Significantly, the AKP spent considerably more energy on cultivating its ties with its Muslim neighbors to the east and south than it did on bolstering its relationship with countries such as the Russian Federation; which, historical and religious differences aside,124 had arguably more to offer in purely economic and strategic terms. During 2003 alone, there were four high-level visits from Turkey to Iran, including two by Foreign Minister Gül, and six from Iran to Turkey. A growing rapprochement with Syria culminated in an official visit to Turkey by President Bashar al-Assad (born 1965) on 6–9 January 2004—the first ever by a serving Syrian head of state. However, feelings of religious solidarity were also underpinned by more practical considerations. Syria and Iran shared Turkey’s concerns that the U.S.–led invasion of Iraq could eventually lead to the division of the country and the creation of an independent Kurdish state in the north of the country. Both were also anxious to reduce their international isolation in the expectation that, once the war in Iraq was over, they too would come under increasing pressure from Washington. By mid-2004, both Turkey and Iran were also facing a resurgence in Kurdish nationalist violence. In May 2004, a group of Iranian Kurds formed the Partiya Jiyana Azada Kurdistanê (Kurdistan Free Life Party or PJAK) to fight for greater rights for Iran’s Kurdish minority. PJAK was ideologically affiliated with, though organizationally distinct from, the PKK; and both groups had their main training camps in the Qandil Mountains of northern Iraq. Later the same month, the PKK

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announced that, after a five-year lull following Öcalan’s capture and imprisonment, it would resume its armed struggle from 1 June 2004. On 29 July 2004, Turkey and Iran signed a Memorandum of Understanding on security cooperation. Over the years that followed, the two countries frequently exchanged intelligence on the PKK and PJAK and even occasionally conducted simultaneous, though operationally discrete, military operations against insurgents within their respective borders. The rising death toll from PKK violence also further distanced Turkish public opinion from the West. Many Turks believed that the members of the EU supported the PKK. While rising anti-Americanism as a result of the ongoing carnage in Iraq was exacerbated by Washington’s refusal either to move against the PKK camps in the Qandil Mountains or allow Turkey to do so. In an international BBC poll conducted in late 2004, 91 percent of Turks said that they disapproved of President George Bush’s foreign policy—the highest rate of any country in the world. Although the leading members of the AKP were usually careful to avoid criticizing the United States too harshly in public, occasionally they were unable to control themselves. On 27 November 2004, Mehmet Elkatmış (born 1947), the AKP head of the Parliamentary Human Rights Commission, accused the United States of conducting a “genocide” during its military operations against Iraqi insurgents in Falluja and described the Bush administration as being “worse than Hitler.” Anti-Western conspiracy theories, similar to those which had characterized the rhetoric of the parties led by Erbakan, began to appear in the Islamist press. After the southeast Asian tsunami of 26 December 2004, the U.S. Embassy in Ankara was forced to issue a public statement refuting reports in the pro-AKP Yeni Safak daily newspaper that the quake had been caused by a U.S. underground explosion which was designed to kill Muslims. Calls for the AKP leadership to distance itself from such claims were met with a resounding silence. Equally alarming was the appearance near the top of the Turkish bestseller lists of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf and the publication of an increasing number of antiSemitic articles in the Islamist press. Again, the AKP leadership said nothing. There were also times when religious prejudices appeared to color Erdoğan’s perception of world events. When Israel assassinated Hamas leader Sheikh Ahmed Yassin (born c. 1937) on 22 March 2004, and again in May 2004, after Israeli forces had razed the houses of the families of suspected militants in the Gaza town of Rafah, Erdoğan publicly accused Israel of “state terrorism.” He declined an Israeli invitation to visit the country and in June 2004 even briefly recalled Turkey’s ambassador to Israel for consultations. On 16 February 2006, at a time when the West was trying to isolate Hamas in the hope of persuading it to renounce violence and recognize Israel, AKP hosted a visit to Ankara from a five-man delegation from the organization, headed by its exiled leader Khaled Meshaal. One month later, during a visit to the Darfur region of Sudan as a guest of the Sudanese government, Erdoğan dismissed the international community’s claims that the government-backed Janjaweed militia was conducting a genocide against other indigenous groups on the grounds that all the parties involved were Muslim. “I don’t think there has been assimilation or a genocide here,” he said. “Ethnic divisions and murder are unacceptable in a Muslim country.”125


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Ideological considerations also appeared to influence the AKP’s choice of appointees to Turkey’s highly politicized bureaucracy, sometimes with farcical results. For example, in June 2004 an imam with no medical experience was appointed deputy director of health for the province of Erzincan. His responsibilities included assessing the competence of all the doctors in the province.126 Similarly, in early 2006 the AKP attempted to appoint Adnan Büyükdeniz (born 1958) as the next governor of the Turkish Central Bank. Büyükdeniz had long been the Islamist movement’s leading economist and regularly wrote reports for MÜSİAD. He was well-respected in the wider business community but had spent almost his entire career in the Islamic banking sector. His appointment was vetoed by President Sezer on the grounds that he had no experience of Western-style banking. The AKP then nominated Durmuş Yılmaz (born 1947), a member of the Central Bank’s board of directors, who was formally appointed on 18 April 2006. Again, it was probably not a coincidence that Yılmaz had a reputation for being one of the most pious members of the Central Bank board and that, unusually for the spouse of a leading bureaucrat, his wife wore a headscarf. Such appointments inevitably further fed secularist suspicions about the AKP’s ultimate intentions. Of the 1,900 candidates nominated by the AKP for high-level posts during its first four years in office, Sezer vetoed over 250 on the grounds that they were ideologically motivated; and simply refused either to approve or veto candidates for another 400 positions. There were occasions when the AKP’s appointees introduced what appeared to be ideologically motivated changes. For example, on 12 January 2006, the AKP appointed Şenol Demiröz (born 1950), Erdoğan’s former head of cultural affairs during his time as mayor of Istanbul, as head of the state-owned Türkiye Radyo Televizyon (Turkish Radio and Television or TRT). Over the next two years, religious programming on TRT’s main television channel tripled, albeit from only two regular programs a week to six.127 But political appointments did not appear to have a negative impact on economic stability. The Turkish economy had returned to growth in early 2002, well before the AKP came to power. However, there is no doubt that the recovery was sustained and even accelerated by the stability resulting from a single-party government and the AKP’s commitment to the Economic Stabilization Program introduced by the previous administration. While the AKP’s efforts to secure a date for the opening of accession negotiations with the EU reassured the international business community and triggered a dramatic increase in the inflow of foreign capital. Direct foreign investment, which had hovered at around $1 billion a year through the 1990s, totaled $9.8 billion in 2005 and $20.2 billion in 2006; a large proportion of it for purchases under Turkey’s privatization program. In 2006 privatization revenue totaled $8.0 billion, down only slightly from $8.2 billion in 2005. While high real interest rates and a booming stock market attracted a large inflow of portfolio investment. By mid-2007, foreigners owned over 70 percent of the total free float on the Istanbul Stock Exchange. However, relations with the EU had become increasingly strained. Once it had secured a date for the opening of accession negotiations, the AKP neither introduced any more reform packages nor attempted to ensure the full implementation

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of the legislative amendments already passed. More critically, it continued to refuse to open its ports and airports to Greek Cypriot ships and planes. As a result, far from being a formality, the meeting of EU foreign ministers in Brussels on 3 October 2005 turned into a protracted struggle. It was not until the early hours of 4 October 2005 that an agreement was finally reached and EU accession negotiations were formally inaugurated. But for the AKP, the opening of accession negotiations appeared to represent the end—not the beginning—of a process. Over the next 15 months, the government failed either to introduce any substantive reforms or to open its ports and airports to the Republic of Cyprus. On 11 December 2006, EU leaders announced that they were suspending negotiations on eight of the thirty-five chapters of the accession process pending Turkey’s full implementation of the Customs Union. The announcement came at a time when there were already signs that public enthusiasm in Turkey for EU membership was waning. An opinion poll published in October 2006 suggested that only 32.2 percent of the Turkish public believed that the country should join the EU, down from 57.4 percent in 2005 and 67.5 percent in 2004.128 The disillusion was particularly acute among the AKP’s own supporters, many of whom had initially hoped that closer ties with the EU would lead to an easing of the Kemalist interpretation of secularism. However, on 10 November 2005, the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) had rejected an appeal by Leyla Şahin (born 1973) against a ruling by the same court on 29 June 2004 dismissing her claim that her expulsion from Istanbul University in February 1998 for refusing to remove her headscarf constituted a violation of the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (1950).129 The ECHR ruled that, although Article 9 of the Convention guaranteed freedom of thought, conscience, and religion, Şahin’s dismissal was justified as the headscarf was a “powerful external symbol” and that it was necessary to bear in mind “the impact which wearing such a symbol, which is presented or perceived as a compulsory religious duty, may have on those who choose not to wear it.”130 The ruling was greeted with a mixture of anger and bewilderment by opponents of the headscarf ban in Turkey. Research suggested that 64.2 percent of adult Turkish women covered their heads, rising to 94.6 percent of female AKP voters.131 For many in the AKP, the ECHR ruling reinforced a growing belief that the EU was prejudiced against Muslims. For Erdoğan, it seemed to trigger a return to the radicalism of his youth. On 15 November 2005, when asked by journalists to comment on the ruling, Erdoğan replied: “A court has no right to pass judgment on the headscarf. Ultimately, it is a decision for the ulema.”132 Inevitably, Erdoğan’s statement was seized on by his secularists opponents as proof that the AKP eventually hoped to establish a state based on Islamic principles. Yet, if true, the AKP appeared to be biding its time. With the exception of initiatives such as trying to end the discrimination against graduates of İmam Hatip schools and criminalizing adultery, the AKP made no significant attempt to Islamicize the Turkish state. Nor did it launch a mosque-building program. Under the AKP government, the number of mosques in Turkey grew by approximately 500 per year—slower than the rate of increase in population—to stand at 78,000 in


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early 2007. While it opened just two new İmam Hatip schools. However, the number of students attending Qur’an courses run by the Diyanet did almost double, from 79,836 in 2002 to 158,437 in 2006. In general, the AKP appeared to focus more on trying to lift restrictions than using the state to promote Islam. By the time the AKP took power in November 2002, the number of unlicensed Qur’an courses run by the tariqah had already begun to increase again; even if they were neither as numerous nor as visible as before the 28 February Process. Several of the tariqah, particularly the Naqshbandi order, had also organized networks of courses—including foreign languages and handcrafts as well as religious instruction—for female students who were excluded from the educational system by the headscarf ban; while collecting donations and providing scholarships for some of the girls to study at foreign universities.133 On 3 June 2005, President Sezer vetoed an attempt by the AKP to amend the Turkish Penal Code to reduce the penalties for unlicensed Qur’an courses. There were also other initiatives which further fuelled hard-line secularists’ suspicions. In 2005, the Ministry of Education removed references to the theory of evolution from eighth grade science textbooks. Education Minister Hüseyin Çelik (born 1959) defended the move by asking: “Is it scientific to explain the theory of evolution and not explain opposing views?”134 But the AKP did not extend the same principle to compulsory religious instruction, which continued to inculcate the beliefs and practices of Sunni Islam; despite repeated promises by government officials to address the needs of the Alevi community.135 Indeed, Sunni Islam was presented as a prerequisite for national unity, with the clear implication that non-Sunni Muslims were outsiders. Sixth grade religious textbooks taught: “We are the Turkish nation. We have a shared culture, language, religion, customs and traditions.”136 Nor did the AKP lift the ban on Turkey’s non-Muslim minorities training their own clergy inside the country. Despite vigorous lobbying by the international community, it refused to reopen the Greek Orthodox seminary on the island of Heybeliada, just outside Istanbul, which had been closed since 1971. The problems were particularly acute for Turkey’s growing, though still tiny, Protestant community. Many were Turks who had been converted by foreign missionary activity, particularly by U.S.–based groups. Unable to open churches, they tended to gather in residential apartments, which merely increased the suspicions of both the Turkish authorities and the local Sunni population, who tended to see them as part of a foreign plot to undermine and then control Turkey. In February 2005, the Diyanet distributed a sermon to all the imams on its payroll to be read out in mosques on 11 March 2005. It described Christian missionaries as the equivalent of mediaeval Crusaders dispatched by foreign powers “to sever our people’s links to Islam because they see it as the biggest obstacle to their domination.”137 In April 2005, the Diyanet published a booklet to alert the Turkish people to the danger posed by Christian missionaries, warning that they formed part of a media, political, and military campaign against Islam in an attempt to prevent it from spreading throughout the world.138

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Perhaps not surprisingly, through 2006 and into 2007 there was a sharp increase in the number of attacks against non-Muslims, including several murders. On 5 February 2006, an Italian priest, Andrea Santoro (born 1945), was murdered in the eastern Black Sea port of Trabzon by a 16-year-old youth called Oğuzhan Akdin, who had links to ultranationalist and Islamist youth groups. On 19 January 2007, the journalist Hrant Dink (1954–2007), a prominent member of Turkey’s Armenian community, was shot and killed by Ogün Samast (born 1990), another teenager with ultranationalist and Islamist sympathies. On 18 April 2007, three Christian missionaries—two Turks and one German—were murdered by a group of students from a hostel run by an Islamic foundation. In May 2006, frustration at the headscarf ban also produced a violent attack against one of the bastions of the secular state. On 17 May 2006, Alparslan Aslan (born 1977), a lawyer with ultranationalist and Islamist sympathies, walked into the Danıştay building in Ankara and shot dead one of the judges, Mustafa Yücel Özbilgin (born 1942), while wounding four others. When he was arrested, Arslan told police that he had carried out the assassination in protest at the court’s rejection of appeals by female students expelled from university because of the headscarf ban. The killing highlighted the deep divisions in Turkish society. Secularists maintained that Aslan was effectively acting on behalf of all those who opposed the headscarf ban; while members of the AKP tried to distance the killing from Islam by claiming that it was part of a larger conspiracy involving elements within the military. On 18 May 2006, Justice Minister Cemil Çiçek (born 1946) warned the public to expect shocking revelations. None came. In fact, police investigations suggested that the attack had been Aslan’s initiative and that any conspiracy involved less than half a dozen like-minded acquaintances. Nevertheless, Özbilgin’s funeral turned into a secularist and anti-AKP rally. It was attended by all of the military personnel stationed in the capital, including the top commanders who walked through the streets to the ceremony to the cheers of secularist mourners. Traditionally, the Turkish prime minister attends any funeral of a high-ranking state official killed in the line of duty. But Erdoğan refused to do so, opting instead to open a new road in the Mediterranean resort of Antalya. On the day after Özbilgin’s assassination, Turkey’s leading judges issued a joint statement warning that the secular state was in danger and calling on all institutions “responsible for protecting secularism” to “do their duty.” No one doubted that at the head of these institutions came the Turkish military. By the time of the attack on the Danıştay, both secularists and Islamists were already looking ahead to the end of August 2006, when Özkök was due to step down as chief of staff and be replaced by General Yaşar Büyükanıt (born 1940). A known hard-liner, Büyükanıt was expected to be considerably more assertive than Özkök in his dealings with the government, particularly in the run-up to the end of Sezer’s term as president in May 2007. As the president was elected by parliament, the AKP’s huge majority suggested that it would be able to appoint its own candidate as Sezer’s successor. Erdoğan was known to harbor presidential ambitions. The fear among secularists was that, with Erdoğan in the presidency, the AKP would be able to tighten its grip on the apparatus of state. Many secularists


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were also alarmed by the prospect of his wife Emine Erdoğan (born 1955), who wears an Islamic headscarf, becoming Turkey’s first lady. Büyükanıt delivered his first warning to the government within minutes of succeeding Özkök as chief of staff.139 During the handover ceremony on 28 August 2006, which was carried live on eleven national television channels, Büyükanıt declared: “Protecting the fundamental principles of the republic is not a matter of domestic politics, it is the army’s duty.”140 In late September 2006, the commanders of the Turkish army, navy, and air force each delivered public statements warning of the threat posed to Turkey by Islamic fundamentalism. On 2 October 2006, in an address to mark the opening of the new academic year at the Military Academy in Istanbul, which was again carried live on eleven television channels, Büyükanıt bluntly warned the government that the military would never allow it to erode secularism. Büyükanıt’s speech was designed as much to reassure his subordinates in the officer corps as to threaten the government. Having delivered its message, throughout the remainder of 2006 and into 2007, the military adopted a lower public profile; although behind the scenes Büyükanıt continued to warn Erdoğan not to put himself forward as a presidential candidate. In his private meetings with the military, Erdoğan prevaricated, neither defying nor promising to heed the warnings. Indeed, through the second half of 2006 and into early 2007, the AKP government as a whole seemed to have lost direction. It introduced no policy initiatives and appeared to be concerned primarily with trying to find a way to avoid a confrontation over the presidency and then secure a second term when elections fell due at the beginning of November 2007. By early April, the military was optimistic that Erdoğan had finally decided not to stand for the presidency but to put forward a compromise candidate. The first round of voting in parliament was due to be held on 27 April 2007. However, with less than a week to go, Erdoğan received a visit from Bülent Arınç, the parliamentary speaker. Arınç threatened to put himself forward as a presidential candidate unless Erdoğan appointed one of the leaders of the AKP. Knowing that Arınç would be unacceptable to the military, and fearful of provoking a split in the AKP by nominating another candidate to run against him, Erdoğan opted to put forward Abdullah Gül. Although Gül’s responsibilities as foreign minister had brought him into frequent contact with the military and he was personally well-liked, his candidacy was still regarded as unacceptable by Turkey’s secular establishment; not least because his wife Hayrünisa not only covered her head but had taken Turkey to the ECHR after her headscarf had prevented her from enrolling at university.141 In protest, the CHP boycotted the first round of voting on 27 April 2007. As the sole candidate, Gül received the support of 357 MPs, ten short of the two thirds required. However, his election appeared a formality when voting reached the third round, where a simple majority would suffice. At shortly past 11 p.m. on the evening of 27 April 2007, the Turkish General Staff posted a statement on its Website. After haranguing the government for allegedly nurturing radical Islamist sentiments, the statement warned the AKP that the military was alarmed by its choice of presidential candidate and would not hesitate to use “the duty given it by law” to protect secularism. No one doubted that it was a

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reference to Article 35 of the Armed Forces Internal Services Law, which had been used as the legal justification for the 1980 coup. On 28 April 1997, the AKP issued its own statement condemning what it regarded as the military’s interference in the political process. On 29 April 2007, in the largest mass demonstration in Turkish history, nearly one million secularists took to the streets of Istanbul to protest Gül’s candidacy. On 1 May 2007, the Constitutional Court provided a way out of the stalemate by declaring—on doubtful legal grounds—that, in order to be valid, two thirds of MPs had to participate in any vote for the presidency. The ruling meant that, as the AKP held less than two thirds of the seats, all the CHP had to do to block Gül’s candidacy was to boycott proceedings in parliament. On 2 May 2007, the AKP called an early general election. By mid-2007, though the pace of growth was clearly slowing, the Turkish economy remained stable and annual inflation was in single figures. Even if doubts remained about what the AKP would have tried to do if it had not been for fear of provoking the Turkish military, there was no question that during its first term in power the party had made no concerted attempt to dismantle Ataturk’s ideological legacy. The AKP was thus able to base its electoral campaign on the theme of continuity. The healthy macroeconomic figures of the previous five years may not have resulted in a tangible improvement in the living standards of the mass of the population, but neither did any of the opposition parties inspire confidence that they could do any better. The CHP based its election campaign on the as yet unproven claim that the AKP was planning to establish a state based on religious principles. While the MHP focused on the AKP’s failure to suppress the PKK insurgency and what it described as its supine surrender of the country’s economy to foreign capital. Both strategies were designed to engender fear rather than hope, and the vituperative rhetoric employed by the CHP and MHP in their election campaigns appeared to offer conflict rather than stability. Perhaps not surprisingly, the AKP won the general election of 22 July 2007 with a landslide, taking 46.6 percent of the vote and 341 of the 550 seats in parliament. The CHP won 20.9 percent and 112 seats, ahead of the MHP with 14.3 percent and seventy-one seats. The remaining twenty-six seats were won by independents.142 The AKP was still well short of the two-thirds majority needed to be sure of appointing its own candidate to the presidency. However, on 25 July 2007, MHP Chairman Devlet Bahçeli (born 1948) unexpectedly announced that his party would attend all of the rounds of voting in parliament, thus ensuring that the AKP would have a quorum. On the afternoon of 28 August 2007, almost exactly four months after the statement opposing his candidacy had been posted on the Website of the Turkish General Staff, Abdullah Gül received the support of 339 MPs in the third round of voting. Later the same evening, Gül was formally sworn in as Turkey’s eleventh president.

6

Violent Islamist Organizations

D

uring the 1920s and 1930s, militant Islam was the predominant element in a significant proportion of the violent opposition to the authority of the nascent Kemalist state. However, after 1940, organized campaigns of Islamist violence virtually disappeared from the political arena and only began to remerge during the 1970s. Yet, unlike in the early years of the republic, more recent organized Islamist violence has been directed not against the Turkish state itself but against rival militant groups or what have been seen as ideologically alien presences in the country, such as Turkish secularist intellectuals, local non-Muslim communities, or the representatives of foreign countries and businesses.1 Similarly, although tariqah sheikhs—particularly from the Naqshbandi order—played a prominent role in the Islamist violence of the early republic, modern militant Islamist groups have tended to be formed outside, and frequently in opposition to, the tariqah networks. Indeed, some modern violent groups have even singled out the tariqah as targets for assassination campaigns. Nevertheless, many non-violent Islamists have provided implicit, if often unconscious, encouragement to violent groups through the adoption of a policy of denial. By refusing to accept that devout Muslims could be involved in terrorism and perpetuating implausibly complex conspiracy theories, they have frequently allowed militants to recruit and organize in their midst without fear of coming under suspicion. Since its reemergence in the late 1970s, Islamist violence in Turkey can be divided into three main phases, namely: • Pre-1980: Mostly groups with informal links to the legal Milli Selamet Partisi (National Salvation Party or MSP), which were broken up and outlawed in the wake of the 1980 military coup. • 1980–2001: Autonomous, tightly structured, predominantly Kurdish groups, largely, but not exclusively, inspired by Iran; and, initially at least, often receiving financial and logistical support from Tehran. • Post-2001: Amalgamations of Islamists around a core of international jihadists trained in Afghanistan/Pakistan, usually formed for specific operations and sympathetic to, or affiliated with, transnational groups such as Al Qaeda.

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The transitions between phases have been primarily triggered by domestic developments. However, each transition has also coincided with developments outside the country; for example, the Iranian revolution of 1979 and the repercussions of the attacks on the United States on 11 September 2001. Ironically, during the 1980s and early 1990s, the Turkish state inadvertently fuelled the growth of Islamist violence by encouraging the inculcation of Islamic sentiments as an ideological bulwark first against communism and later against Kurdish separatism. Hard-line Islamists were allowed to organize and propagandize with relative impunity, particularly in the deeply conservative Kurdish southeast of the country, where they swelled the pool of radicalized young Islamists willing to resort to violence and increased the number of potential recruits both for indigenous organizations and for international groups active in the Balkans, the Caucasus, and Pakistan/Afghanistan.

Pre-1980 Although militants with strong Islamist sympathies were active in many of the ultranationalist groups involved in violent clashes with leftists during the 1960s and early 1970s, it was not until the end of the decade that the first concerted attempt was made to use violence to further specifically Islamist political goals. However, initially at least, the aim appears to have been as much defensive as offensive, as the MSP sought to counterbalance the military muscle of its main political rival on the extreme right, the ultranationalist Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (Nationalist Action Party or MHP). Many young MSP supporters were also active in the Milli Türk Talebe Birliği (National Turkish Student Union or MTTB). Through 1976 and 1977, tensions between the MHP’s Grey Wolves and the MTTB frequently erupted into violent clashes; in which the MTTB usually came off worse. In response, the MSP decided to use its youth organization, Akıncılar Derneği (Raiders’ Association or Ak-Der), to create its own paramilitary force, initially to counteract the MHP but ultimately as a potential instrument for its ultimate goal of establishing an Islamic state. On 9 June 1978, a circular was sent to all Ak-Der branches stating that: “Those of our brothers who are able to participate in the difficult struggle that lies ahead are invited to 100person, 30-day training camps which will be established by headquarters.”2 By 1979, thirty-two military training camps had been established in rural areas across Turkey. Even though the MSP was no longer in power, many of its appointees were still working in the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Justice. Although it was common knowledge that the camps were providing military training, when they were raided by the security forces, very little incriminating was ever found. The presumption, though never proved, has always been that the camp administrators would receive prior warning of the raids from MSP sympathizers in the bureaucracy. However, on 26 December 1978, as escalating clashes between rightists and leftists threatened a complete collapse in public order, the government declared martial law in thirteen Turkish provinces. As a result, security and the administration

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of justice were transferred from civilian to military control. On 27 November 1979 the Ak-Der headquarters in Ankara were raided by the martial law authorities. On 13 December 1979 the association was officially closed down. On 1 January 1980, MSP officials founded a new organization, the Akıncı Genç Derneği (Young Raider Association or Ak-Genç). Its headquarters were in Konya, one of the provinces where martial law had not been declared; and military training in camps continued. However, both the MTTB and Ak-Genç were banned following the military coup of 12 September 1980, and several directors of the training camps received prison sentences after being found guilty of plotting to establish a theocratic state.3 Documents presented to the court claimed that raids on the camps by the military had discovered numerous weapons caches and that there was evidence of regular visits by state bureaucrats.4 But the coup came before the MSP could deploy the militants trained in its camps for the “difficult struggle” referred to in the circular of 9 June 1978.5 Similarly, although the late 1970s also spawned a number of other Islamist organizations which were committed to violence in pursuit of their goals, there was no concerted campaign to establish an Islamic state through the use of force. A few of the larger groups, such as the Türkiye İslam Kurtuluş Mücahitleri Ordusu (Warriors of the Turkish Army of Islamic Liberation or TİKMO), do appear to have conducted a number of small-scale bombings, albeit primarily for propaganda and publicity purposes. However, the majority were so small and quiescent that little is known of them except that they scrawled their names on walls.6

1980–2001 The ban on all political organizations after the 1980 coup probably accelerated the process of radicalization by weakening the links between advocates of violence and more moderate Islamists. During the 1970s radicals had joined, or worked closely with, existing organizations where they were under a degree of central control and where their influence was diluted by the presence of others with more moderate views. However, as Islamists regrouped following the 1980 coup, radical former members of Ak-Der/Ak-Genç and the MTTB began to form their own autonomous organizations. Nor did these new groups need to look to a larger domestic sponsor for financial or logistical support. The 1980 coup came a little over eighteen months after the Iranian Revolution of early 1979.7 Still flushed with confidence and energy after its seizure of power, the regime in Tehran provided not just inspiration but practical support in the form of money and training.

The Turkish Hizbullah In Turkey, the word Hizbullah, which means “Party of God”’ in Arabic, has traditionally been used almost as a generic term to describe a number of separate militant Islamist organizations, none of which had any organic links with foreign groups of the same name. But in the public imagination the name has become

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most closely associated with two organizations that were formed in the 1980s from discussion groups at radical Islamist bookshops in Diyarbakır in southeast Turkey: the Menzil group, named after the Menzil Bookshop and led by Fidan Güngör (1949–94); and, particularly, the İlim group, named after the İlim Bookshop and headed by Hüseyin Velioğlu (c. 1952–2000).8 Velioğlu was born as Hüseyin Durmaz in the Kurdish village of Bağözü in the county of Gercüş in Batman province.9 After winning a place to study politics at the Faculty of Political Sciences at Ankara University, he became active in Islamist student politics, joining both the MSP and the MTTB. Acquaintances of the time describe him as being aggressive and narrow-minded, an admirer of the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt and a fierce proponent of the creation in Turkey of an Islamic state based on the Shari’a. After graduating from Ankara University, Velioğlu settled in Diyarbakır in 1980, where he joined an Islamic discussion group at the Vahdet Bookshop. One of the other participants was Fidan Güngör, who had also been a student activist in the MTTB during the 1970s.10 Discussions were often heated; the result as much of competing egos as genuine differences of opinion. In 1981, Fidan Güngör broke away to establish his own bookshop, which he called Menzil, or “Range.” Other participants in the discussion group describe Velioğlu as having only a rudimentary grasp of the subtleties of Islamic law but compensating for his lack of knowledge with relentless energy and an unerring self-belief. He had already served notice of his personal ambition when, in May 1981, he had successfully applied to the courts to change his name from Durmaz, which translates literally as “cannot stop,” to Velioğlu, which means “son of a saint” or “heir apparent.”11 In 1982, Velioğlu also left to open his own bookshop, which he called İlim, meaning “science” or “knowledge.” The discussion groups rapidly coalesced into distinct organizations, which then expanded across southeastern Turkey. Initially İlim and Menzil remained in regular contact, but gradually they began to move apart. By 1987, cooperation had turned into opposition as personal rivalry between Velioğlu and Güngör was exacerbated by disagreements on key strategic issues, most significantly on whether or not the time had come to launch a holy war. Both İlim and Menzil were committed to the use of violence to establish a state based on the Shari’a. They each believed that the struggle would comprise three distinct phases: • Tebliğ, or “communication,” which was understood to mean propaganda and organization; • Cemaat, which translates literally as “religious community” and was generally accepted to mean the creation of the social foundations for the establishment of an Islamic state; and • Cihat, the Turkish for jihad or holy war. Güngör believed that that the situation was still at the first stage and that the completion of the tebliğ and the cemaat would take years. However, Velioğlu believed that it was already time to move from cemaat to jihad. The question was given an


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added urgency by the increasing pressure that both İlim and Menzil were coming under from the Partiya Karkaren Kurdistan (Kurdistan Workers’ Party or PKK), which in 1984 had launched a violent campaign to establish an independent communist state in the predominantly Kurdish areas of eastern Anatolia. The PKK saw any other organization, particularly one that appealed to the religious sentiments of what was traditionally the most conservative region of the country, as a threat to its own leadership of Turkey’s Kurds. PKK militants had begun harassing, threatening, and sometimes even assaulting members of İlim and Menzil. Güngör argued that Menzil and İlim were not strong enough to confront the PKK and that doing so would weaken both sides and serve the interests of the Turkish state. But Velioğlu remained adamant that the Islamists had to resist. Whether or not he was consciously aware of it remains unclear, but there is little doubt that violence was also the only way for Velioğlu to assert his claim to the overall leadership of the movement. Even İlim members admit that Güngör was a better speaker, more respected in the Islamist community, and more knowledgeable about Islam. During the 1980s, both groups were in regular contact with elements in the Iranian intelligence services and members traveled to Iran for training. For the Menzil group, this appears mostly to have involved ideological instruction. Even though he was a Sunni Muslim, Güngör looked to the Iranian Revolution as a prototype for his own plans for an Islamic state in Turkey. However, Velioğlu took as his model the al-nizam al-islami, or “Islamic order,” of the Muslim Brotherhood rather than the clerical theocracy in Tehran. Nevertheless, during the 1980s, Velioğlu traveled several times to Iran, where he received military and ideological training from elements in the Iranian security services. Almost all of the other leading members of the İlim group also spent some time in Iran.12 They usually first received ideological training in a villa in Tehran—often with Velioğlu acting as interpreter from Farsi to Turkish—before being taken to camps in the hills outside the city for arms training.13 There is also considerable evidence that, during the early 1990s in particular, Iranian intelligence officers, usually operating under diplomatic cover at the Iranian Embassy in Ankara or the Consulate General in Istanbul, held a series of meetings with İlim militants inside Turkey. However, although Tehran was committed to exporting its Islamist revolution to other countries,14 it appears to have been primarily interested in the ability of İlim to gather intelligence, particularly on the activities of Iranian dissident groups inside Turkey and on Turkish military deployments close to the Iranian border.15 Even though it provided militants with training, Iran’s relationship with İlim was one of cooperation rather than control. There is no evidence that Tehran had any influence either over Velioğlu’s long-term strategic plans or the way in which he ran the organization. In theory, İlim was run by a Şura, or “Supreme Council,” which oversaw both the political and military wings of the organization, which were in turn divided into regional departments. In practice, İlim was an uncompromising autocracy in which every decision was taken, or had to be approved, by Velioğlu himself. Militants were also required to submit reports of everything they did to Velioğlu. These covered not just plans for, and subsequent analyses of, assassinations and armed attacks but also surveillance reports, transcripts of interrogations, applications to

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join İlim, and detailed records of all financial expenditure, including the stipends paid to members of the organization. As İlim grew in size, militants began to attach executive summaries to longer reports. Even though Velioğlu did not always read the full text of the reports, he still insisted on them being submitted to him;16 and nothing could be done without his explicit approval. Most İlim militants were Kurds from southeastern Turkey, a region characterized by high levels of piety, poverty, and alienation towards the government in Ankara. The main recruiting grounds were local mosques, where İlim members would groom likely youths before making an approach. As İlim expanded, a significant proportion of the mosques in southeast Turkey—particularly in cities such as Diyarbakır, Batman, Bingöl, and Mardin—came under its control, serving both as organizational hubs and as platforms for the dissemination of propaganda to the local community. Imams delivered pro-İlim sermons after Friday prayers and allowed the mosques to be used for discussion groups and Qur’an courses for young boys.17 Some of the local imams were already sympathetic to İlim’s goals and were easy to recruit. Those who refused were usually forced to flee or were killed. Although İlim recruited from the radical fringes of Islamist political parties, there is no evidence of any organic links between İlim and the parties’ leaderships. However, there is also no doubt that non-violent Islamists indirectly facilitated the growth of İlim by consistently refusing to accept that its acts of violence were being perpetrated by an organization acting in the name of Islam. While the Islamist media, many of whom were well aware of what was happening, chose either to remain silent or to attempt to shift responsibility elsewhere.18 Initially, İlim concentrated on recruiting from only the most pious section of the community. Later, as the organization grew in size, it appears to have become less selective. Most recruits came from the urban working and lower-middle classes, particularly first-generation migrants to the shantytowns that surround Turkish cities.19 Although İlim was also active in the countryside, it remained a predominantly urban organization. All potential recruits were first evaluated by İlim members active in their community and then, provided that they were deemed suitable, required to submit detailed accounts of themselves and their families, which were forwarded to the organization’s leadership for approval. Members of İlim usually believed that they were engaged in a divinely ordained and monitored task.20 As a result, there was little point in applicants being untruthful. The accounts submitted to the organization covered everything from lists of their possessions and books they had read to the mosques they attended, their education, skills, whether or not they had ever been in trouble with the police (a police record usually meant that the applicant was automatically rejected), and personal information about all their close relatives. Candidates were also expected to detail any un-Islamic activities, with the result that many of the applications are almost confessional in nature—as alarming in their commitment as they are touching in their naivety.21 If successful applicants had any unmarried sisters, İlim would try to marry them off to other militants in order to strengthen the new recruits’ commitment to the organization.22 Similarly, the provision of details of recruits’ close relatives served as a form of insurance should they ever waver in their dedication to the cause.


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Where possible, İlim tried to identify potential recruits while they were still children. The organization monitored young boys attending local mosques and Qur’an courses. Reports were submitted to the leadership on likely candidates, including details of school attendance, the boy’s character, and the financial situation and background of his family. Imams or laymen then provided special tuition for those who had been selected, in which they extolled the concept of martyrdom and the deeds of İlim militants.23 Once a recruit had been approved, he was assigned to the political or the military wing of the organization, both of which were organized on a regional basis. The political wing was mainly responsible for propaganda and intelligence gathering. There were different units for schools, universities, neighborhoods, villages, and individual mosques. Propaganda activities were mostly oral and tended to be take place in mosques, although İlim members also held discussion groups in bookshops and houses belonging to the organization. In addition to the Qur’an and the hadith, İlim used the writings of other—mostly foreign—Islamists, such as Sayyid Qutb’s twelve-volume In the Shadow of the Qur’an. Local İlim leaders also taught members about the organization and how to avoid attracting attention to themselves in public. They were instructed to avoid being seen with the regalia of extreme Islamic piety, such as carrying Islamic rosaries or wearing skullcaps. The political wing was organized vertically, with unit commanders reporting to—and receiving instructions from—their superiors. There was no lateral communication or cooperation. Communications were by courier, or even a series of couriers, who relayed unopened envelopes or packages up and down the chain of command. The couriers often carried short messages in the traditional Islamic talismans containing prayers or religious text that are worn around the neck. İlim members avoided communicating on the telephone or by fax. Even when the organization computerized its archives in the late 1990s, documents were saved onto floppy disks or CDs and carried by courier rather than sent by e-mail. From 1997 onwards, as İlim began to move into western Turkey and came under increasing pressure from the security forces, internal security was increased and steps taken to try to ensure that even regional commanders were unaware of each other’s existence. In the military wing, which was responsible for assassinations and kidnappings, security was even tighter. After intensive vetting, recruits were assigned to a threeto five-man cell reporting directly to the local commander. Members of the military wing always used codenames and usually did not even know the real names of the rest of their cell. Assassinations were usually carried out by teams of three men: one to kill the victim, another as backup, and a third for surveillance. The teams received training in tradecraft and anti-interrogation techniques. İlim never claimed responsibility for killings, preferring a single bullet to the back of the head to serve as its signature.24 However, the militants would also sometimes use grenades or incendiary devices if they believed the target was unlikely to emerge from an enclosed space or if the aim was to cause material damage. After every attack, militants would submit reports to Velioğlu, many of which were later used as training materials for other militants.

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Most members of the military wing were full-time militants and received a monthly stipend. However, members of the political wing were encouraged to continue to work in the community and their monthly contributions to the organization represented its most important source of income.25 İlim also received considerable sums from donations during the festival of Eid al-Fitr to mark the end of the holy month of Ramadan and from the sale of the skins of animals sacrificed as part of the annual Eid al-Adha, or “Feast of the Sacrifice.” Another, less important, source of income was revenue from the sale of books and cassettes.26 During the late 1990s in particular, kidnapping and ransoming—usually of suspected PKK sympathizers or members of rival Islamist groups—generated a lucrative supplement to the organization’s finances. Although Velioğlu’s ultimate goal was the overthrow of the secular Turkish state, he concentrated initially on trying to eliminate potential rivals and developing İlim’s operational capabilities until it became both the sole effective armed opposition to the central government and militarily strong enough to challenge it. İlim’s growing strength in towns and cities in southeast Turkey during the late 1980s was a direct challenge to the PKK, which was itself reaching the peak of its power in the countryside but was struggling to establish an effective presence in urban areas. On 8 May 1991, the PKK attempted to intimidate the organization by assassinating Şerif Karaaslan, a leading member of İlim who lived in the town of İdil, close to Turkey’s border with Iraq. In the months following the killing, there were frequent clashes between İlim and PKK sympathizers, mostly armed with knives and clubs. On 3 December 1991, İlim took revenge by assassinating Mikalil Bayru, a leading PKK sympathizer in İdil. Street fighting between rival supporters continued through the first half of 1992. On the night of 25 June 1992, a group of PKK militants surrounded the mosque in the village of Yolaç, an İlim stronghold in the province of Diyarbakır. Inside the mosque, local İlim members were undergoing ideological training. The PKK forced those inside out into the village square, where they sprayed them with machinegun fire. Eleven İlim members, including Hüseyin Çetinkaya, the organization’s local commander, were killed and five others wounded. The Yolaç massacre was a gift for Velioğlu, providing him with an irrefutable riposte to those—such as the Menzil group—who had argued against an armed confrontation with the PKK. While outrage at the PKK attacking a mosque triggered a flood of new recruits to İlim. Over the next three years, while the PKK battled the Turkish security forces in the countryside, it also found itself engaged in a war within a war as İlim conducted a campaign of assassination and intimidation against PKK members and sympathizers in the towns and cities of southeast Turkey. There are no reliable figures for the number of casualties, although at least 600 people, perhaps many more, are believed to have died; approximately three quarters of them from the PKK. The number of deaths declined rapidly after 1995. The general assumption has been that the two sides agreed a ceasefire, although this has been denied by PKK commanders active in southeast Turkey at the time27 and occasional assassinations of PKK sympathizers continued through the late 1990s. The main reason for the difficulty in assessing the death toll in the war between İlim and the PKK is that elements in the Turkish security forces were engaged in a


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campaign of assassination against PKK sympathizers at the same time.28 This convergence of interests has resulted in accusations that the Turkish state cooperated with İlim and even created the organization as an instrument in its war against the PKK.29 Such claims have been denied by both the Turkish authorities and captured İlim members. However, there is considerable evidence to suggestion that in the early 1990s there was a measure of low-level collusion between İlim militants and state officials, particularly members of the Turkish intelligence services. There is also doubt that, starting in the mid-1980s, the Turkish state condoned and even encouraged radical Islamist sentiments in southeast Turkey; both as an ideological bulwark against the Marxist PKK and in the hope that feelings of Muslim solidarity would override any tendency towards ethnic separatism. In March 1986, soldiers began distributing leaflets calling on local people to fulfill their “holy duty” by fighting against the PKK and quoting from the Qur’an.30 Posters were hung in village cafes and town squares in which the Turkish flag and a picture of a mosque were set side by side with a warning that those who failed to cooperate with the security forces would “become accomplices in the eyes of God in the crimes perpetrated by the separatists.”31 Perhaps not surprisingly, when İlim began assassinating PKK sympathizers, the state failed to react. Initially, officials publically denied that the organization even existed.32 However, not only was the state aware of İlim’s existence but, on the ground in southeast Turkey, it was allowing the organization to operate with impunity. Many police officers serving in the southeast were themselves deeply religious33 and were reluctant to investigate a group about which they knew little except that it had a reputation for piety; especially as the only crime of which it was accused was fighting an organization that targeted members of the state security forces. Privately, however, members of the security forces admit that state collusion often went beyond willful ignorance.34 Elements within the Milli İstibahrat Teşkilatı (National Intelligence Organization or MİT), Jandarma İstihbarat ve Terörle Mücadele (Gendarmerie Intelligence and Struggle Against Terrorism or JİTEM), and the police provided İlim militants with intelligence—including identifying targets for assassination—and weapons training. Some JİTEM personnel claimed that they were explicitly instructed by their superiors to facilitate İlim’s campaign against the PKK.35 However, former members of the Turkish security forces who were serving in the region at time claim that contacts took place between militants and officials in the field. They insist that there was no cooperation, much less joint planning or strategic coordination, with the higher echelons of the organization and that it was only years later that they even became aware of the size and sophistication of İlim’s organizational infrastructure.36 In fact, although PKK supporters and many Islamists still claim that İlim was created and controlled by the Turkish security forces, there is little doubt that İlim used the Turkish state more than it was used by it. İlim’s assassination campaign in the towns and cities did not directly erode the PKK’s military capacity in what was primarily a rural insurgency. However, it undoubtedly reduced the PKK’s ability to establish a strong organizational presence in urban areas. Perhaps more importantly from İlim’s perspective, the campaign established it as the major militant Islamist organization in southeast Turkey and encouraged Velioğlu to move against his rivals.

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In areas where it was strong enough, İlim had already begun to try to establish itself as the arbiter of Islamic mores. For example, in Velioğlu’s home province of Batman, militants attacked stores selling alcohol and women whose clothes or behavior violated their interpretation of Islamic codes. İlim’s willingness to use violence gave it an authority that other, more pacific, Islamist organizations lacked. As a result, local people were soon applying to İlim to broker agreements and act as an arbitrator in disputes. Such activities were a challenge not only to the authority of the state but also to İlim’s rivals, particularly the Menzil group. In 1992, Velioglu effectively declared war by ordering the murder of Ubeydullah Dalar, a leading Menzil member. Through late 1992 and into 1993, the attacks on Menzil intensified. At first, Güngör was reluctant to retaliate. He argued that, when the time was right, violence in the form of jihad should be directed against the Turkish state, not other Muslims. But Menzil’s passivity rapidly eroded its public prestige. In the second half of 1993, Güngör finally ordered his followers to begin to target İlim. However, Menzil was still essentially a political organization, lacking both İlim’s operational capabilities and its growing experience of violence. No reliable figures are available for the number of casualties in the war between the two groups, although at least 200 militants are believed to have been killed; most of them members of Menzil. In summer 1994, after an İlim raid on the family apartment block in Diyarbakır, Güngör fled to Istanbul. Most of the Menzil leadership soon followed. Velioğlu simply pursued them. On 11 September 1994, Güngör and his bodyguard Sabahattin Talayhan were kidnapped in the Aksaray neighborhood of Istanbul by an İlim team sent from Batman by Velioğlu. They were interrogated, tortured, and executed. Talayhan’s body was later discovered in woods approximately one hundred kilometers east of Istanbul. No trace of Güngör has ever been found. Güngör’s death signaled the end of Menzil as a political or military rival to İlim. Although one of Güngör’s subordinates, Zekeriya Ay (1954–2000), took over as head of the organization, he was unable to prevent Menzil’s rapid decline. Within a few years, it had virtually ceased to exist.37 But İlim’s victories against the PKK and Menzil came at a cost. When İlim began to attack Menzil, Güngör sent emissaries to Islamist groups in western Turkey to lobby for support, accusing Velioğlu of collaborating with the Turkish state and targeting fellow Muslims instead of the enemies of Islam. Although Güngör’s lobbying failed to prevent his own death or Menzil’s defeat, it undoubtedly produced a change in the way that Islamists in western Turkey perceived İlim. Previously, İlim had been regarded with sympathy by radicals outside southeast Turkey, many of whom had applied to join the organization. But now attitudes changed, and the applications from volunteers in western Turkey ceased.38 Although few Islamists were prepared to oppose İlim openly, it began to be viewed with fear rather than sympathy. Yet Velioğlu does not appear to have believed that he needed to cultivate human support by countering Güngör’s propaganda campaign. He seems to have been convinced that İlim was an instrument of God’s will—its operations a form of prayer and success proof of divine approval.


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But it was not only the attitudes of other Islamists which were changing. By the time of Menzil’s defeat, the danger of the PKK taking control of the cities of southeastern Turkey appeared to have passed. In the countryside, the PKK was close to containment, if not yet in retreat. From 1995 onwards, the lack of any incentive for elements in the state security apparatus to tolerate İlim was accompanied by a growing awareness of the danger posed by the organization itself. Logically, after its victories over the PKK and Menzil, İlim’s next target should have been the secular Turkish state. However, far from going on the offensive, from 1995 onwards the organization found itself on the defensive and under increasing pressure from the security forces. Velioğlu initiated a period of review and restructuring. Particular emphasis was given to tightening security to prevent penetration by agents working for MİT, JİTEM, or the Turkish police.39 Although he still avoided attacking the Turkish state directly, Velioğlu began to target actual or potential collaborators with the state in the broader Islamist community. During the second half of the 1990s, İlim continued to conduct straightforward assassinations, but the main focus of the operations of its military wing shifted to kidnapping. Sometimes the motive was financial. By the late 1990s, the kidnapping and ransom of non-İlim activists and businessmen had become one of the organization’s main sources of revenue. More frequently, however, the victims were suspected informers or those who simply espoused a more moderate version of Islam than Velioğlu. Torture and beatings were routine and, where possible, the interrogations were videoed. In most cases, the victims appear to have confessed; after which they were executed and secretly buried.40 Velioglu’s policy of attacking other Islamists not only increasingly isolated the organization within the Islamist community but resulted in a stream of complaints to the police from the relatives of İlim’s victims; and, unlike the complaints from relatives of suspected PKK sympathizers, this time the police were prepared to listen. Through the late 1990s, the number of police operations against İlim rose steadily from fifty-nine in 1995 to eighty-six in 1996, 155 in 1997, and 203 in 1998. The turning point came in March 1999, with the surrender of Abdülaziz Tunç (born 1960). Tunç had been born in the village of Yalıntavak in Batman, which was also Velioğlu’s home province, and had joined İlim in 1980. He had risen to be head of the organization’s archives and one of its leading interrogators. But, after nearly twenty years in the organization, he had become increasingly disillusioned by the attacks on Menzil, the indiscriminate nature of much of the violence, and the poor living conditions demanded of the lower-ranking members of the military wing. Too much in awe of Velioğlu to be able to voice his concerns directly, and aware that he knew too much ever to be allowed to leave the organization, on 12 March 1999, Tunç surrendered to the police in Diyarbakır. Acting on information provided by Tunç, on 14 March 1999 the police raided a three-story villa in the Teker neighborhood of Mardin. In addition to weapons and documents, the police recovered six computers and a significant proportion of the organization’s archives. It was only as they began to analyze the material found in the villa that the police finally began to understand how powerful İlim had become. The archives contained over 20,000 biographical forms from recruits, of whom the military wing accounted for approximately 4,000. While İlim’s control of hundreds

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of mosques had given it an organizational presence in virtually every city and town in southeastern Turkey. Based on the material found in the villa, the police staged a series of operations across southeast Turkey, including raids on nearly one hundred İlim-controlled mosques in Diyarbakır and another fifty in Batman. A Hizbullah coordination center was established in Diyarbakır under the local police chief Gaffar Okan. In 1999, over 1,500 suspected militants were taken into custody, 400 of them in Diyarbakır alone. Velioğlu evaded capture, moving first to Adana on the Mediterranean coast and then to Konya in central Anatolia. In June 1999, as İlim came under increasing pressure from police operations across southeastern Turkey, Velioğlu relocated both the organization’s headquarters and its central archives to Istanbul. In November 1999 he moved into a three-story villa in Beykoz on the Asian shore of the city. Although İlim had long maintained a presence in Istanbul, mainly in its Asian suburbs, it had only occasionally staged operations in the city. But in late 1999 the organization began to target members of the Zehra Eğitim ve Kültür Vakfı, or “Zehra Foundation for Education and Culture,” which had been established by followers of Said Nursi, mostly businessmen of Kurdish origin now living in the Asian suburbs of Istanbul. Although they do not appear to have engaged in violence, many of the foundation’s members, including its leader İzzettin Yıldırım (1946–99), had previously been in regular contact with İlim’s political wing. İlim militants later claimed that the Zehra Foundation was being used by the Turkish state to try to weaken and divide the organization.41 But it appears more likely that the foundation was seen by Velioğlu both as a rival and a potentially lucrative source of funds. Over four days in late November 1999, İlim kidnapped seven members of the Zehra Foundation, including İzzettin Yıldırım. The victims’ families reported that they were missing to the Istanbul police. On 15 January 2000, in an uncharacteristic display of poor tradecraft, a credit card belonging to one of the missing businessmen was used to buy some steel doors. The purchasers even gave an address of the villa in Beykoz where the doors were to be fitted. On the afternoon of 17 January 2000, the villa was raided by the police. After a sustained firefight, Velioğlu was killed and the two other militants in the house, Edip Gümüş (born 1958) and Cemal Tutar (born 1972), arrested. Despite attempts by the militants to destroy them, the police were also able to recover the hard drives from the computers in the villa, together with numerous backup disks. In addition, they seized more than 350 video cassettes and nearly 3,000 audio cassettes of İlim interrogations. Over the next two weeks, police detained 940 suspected militants in forty-four provinces across Turkey. By the end of 2000, the number of those detained had risen to 3,300. The police also uncovered arms dumps and the remains of more than sixty of those kidnapped and executed by İlim. None of the seven kidnapped members of the Zehra Foundation was found alive. The Beykoz operation of 17 January 2000 dealt İlim a crippling blow and triggered a crisis of confidence among many of the organization’s members and sympathizers. Like Velioğlu himself, most had genuinely believed that İlim was engaged in a divinely ordained mission. As a result, the killing of the Velioğlu and the subsequent arrest of thousands of his followers was more than an operational setback; it


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was a sign of divine disapproval. Although few had any doubts about the rightness of their cause, many now began to question the methods they had used to try to achieve it. In the two years following the Beykoz operation, the Turkish police detained over 4,000 suspected İlim militants. But it was impractical to try to imprison all of the more than 20,000 names in the organization’s archives. Instead, the security forces concentrated on trying to capture the İlim leadership, purging mosques of İlim preachers and removing militants from the civil service, including more than seventy teachers. On 24 January 2001, Gaffar Okan, the police chief who had been the main driving force behind the crackdown on the organization in southeast Turkey, and five of his bodyguards were ambushed and killed in Diyarbakır. Apart from this solitary act of vengeance, İlim did not stage any more armed attacks but focused on protecting and reconstituting its crippled networks. After Velioğlu’s death, the leadership of the organization passed to İsa Altsoy (born 1961), whom police believe went into hiding abroad, probably amongst the Turkish Diaspora in Germany.42 In July 2003, over 2,000 lower-ranking members of İlim were released from jail under a general amnesty. Over the years that followed, İlim concentrated on rebuilding its political wing. Although it did not renounce violence, the organization appears to have decided that Velioğlu’s attempt to wage a jihad was premature. In doctrinal terms, it returned to the initial phase of tebliğ, or “communication,” using propaganda and charitable work to create a cemaat, or “community,” prior to the third and final phase of jihad. Based primarily in the southeastern cities of Diyarbakır and Batman, İlim has built up a network of Islamic charities, Qur’an courses, bookstores, publications, Websites, foundations, and associations; most prominently the İnsan Hakları ve Mustazaflarla Dayanışma Derneği (Association for Human Rights and Solidarity with the Oppressed or Mustaza-Der), which was founded in 2003. İlim has also organized regular conferences, hosting eight in Diyarbakır alone in 2004–2006. Propaganda has been reinforced by a campaign of social assistance to the poorest sections of the community, including the establishment of soup kitchens—particularly during Ramadan—and the distribution of basic foodstuffs. In April 2006, İlim demonstrated its growing strength when more than 80,000 people participated in a rally organized by Mustaza-Der to celebrate the birth of the Prophet Muhammed. On 3 February 2007, the Turkish police arrested eight suspected İlim members in raids on Mustaza-Der offices in Istanbul, Diyarbakır, and Batman. In late 2007, Mustaza-Der and the other organizations associated with the İlim political wing not only remained open but appeared to be continuing to grow in strength. However, it was unclear whether İlim was planning an imminent return to violence.

The Islamic Movement Organization The İslami Hareket Örgütü (Islamic Movement Organization or İHÖ) was founded in the Kurdish city of Batman in 1987 under the leadership of İrfan Çağrıcı (born c. 1963).43

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As a high school student, Çağrıcı had been deeply impressed by the 1979 Iranian Revolution. After studying Farsi at Istanbul University, he traveled to Tehran in spring 1982 to experience the revolution at first hand. On his return to Istanbul, he and a handful of other young radicals formed an armed organization dedicated to staging an Islamist revolution in Turkey. Starting in late 1983, the group carried out a series of operations in Istanbul, mostly robberies to try to raise funds. However, when a botched raid on a jewelry store in central Istanbul in late 1984 led to the arrest of most of the organization, Çağrıcı fled to Iran. Çağrıcı remained in Iran for three years, mostly in Tehran, where he received political and military training.44 In 1987, he returned to Turkey on an Iranian passport and settled in Batman, where he formed the İHÖ from local members of radical Islamist discussion groups. The İHÖ’s ultimate goal was the establishment of an Islamic state based on the Shari’a. In order to achieve this, it developed a ten-year, three-stage plan, namely: • The formation of a core cadre of militants (end of the third/fourth year); • Armed conflict between the secular establishment and the forces of Islam (end of the ninth year); • The establishment of an Islamic state (end of the tenth year). For the next three years, Çağrıcı concentrated on recruiting suitable militants, most of whom were sent to Iran for training. There are no reliable figures for the number of members of the İHÖ, although it appears unlikely that the total ever exceeded forty or fifty active militants. The İHÖ had a General Assembly, which elected a ten-member consultative Şura, or “council,” under a four-member Executive Committee, which was also responsible for the organization’s operational, procurement, and technical teams. However, in practice, the İHÖ was under Çağrıcı’s sole control. The İHÖ did not have a political wing. Action was to be its propaganda. Çağrıcı’s strategy was to try to trigger a confrontation between Islamists and secularists by staging a series of high-profile assassinations. In 1990, Çağrıcı decided to launch the armed struggle in Istanbul, apparently calculating that operations conducted in Turkey’s largest city would have a greater impact than anything that happened in Batman. During his years in Iran, Çağrıcı had developed a relationship with two rival factions in the Iranian intelligence apparatus. After his return to Turkey, he held regular meetings in Istanbul with a representative of the first group, whom he knew as Ahmet Kerimi. However, he was dependent on the second faction, which he knew as the Rizai Group,45 for the İHÖ’s supplies of arms and explosives. Çağrıcı later told Turkish police that the Rizai Group did not task him with any operations and appeared to be primarily interested in the activities of Iranian dissidents in Turkey. Nevertheless, Kerimi repeatedly warned Çağrıcı to sever links with the Rizai Group, arguing that it could not be trusted. But Çağrıcı was reluctant to comply for fear of losing his supplies of weaponry. Çağrıcı and Kerimi decided to assassinate Çetin Emeç (1935–90), a prominent secular columnist on the daily newspaper Hürriyet. On the morning of 7 March


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1990, Çağrıcı and two other militants, Muzaffer Dalmaz and Tamer Aslan, drove to Emeç’s home in Suadiye, an Asian suburb of Istanbul. As Emeç emerged from his apartment to go to work, he was shot and killed by Çağrıcı. His driver, Sinan Ercan, tried to flee on foot but was gunned down by Dalmaz. In summer 1990, Çağrıcı decided to kill another secularist writer and journalist, Turan Dursun (1934–90). Dursun was a former imam who had resigned after realizing that he longer believed in Islam and started a new career writing and presenting television programs about religious issues. After several months of surveillance, Dursun was shot by Dalmaz on 4 September 1990, while Çağrıcı served as lookout. The assassinations created problems for Çağrıcı with his Iranian sponsors. Kerimi had approved the murder of Emeç, and reportedly even paid Çağrıcı a reward of $10,000.46 He had not been told of the plans to assassinate Dursun. However, the Rizai Group had not been informed of either operation and was furious to learn that the weapons given to Çağrıcı had been used to carry out the killings. Çağrıcı was forced to return the weapons and was warned that some İHÖ militants currently being trained in Iran might not be allowed to return to Turkey. Throughout the remainder of 1990 and most of 1991, the İHÖ avoided any major operations, although it continued to generate funds through robberies and car thefts. On 11 December 1991, the organization used an improvised explosive device (IED) to try to kill the participants in an annual memorial service at the grave of Sedat Simavi (1898–1953), the founder of Hürriyet newspaper, in Beykoz on the Asian shore of Istanbul. However, the device exploded prematurely several hours before the ceremony was due to begin and caused only material damage. In May 1992, Çağrıcı was given the opportunity to re-ingratiate himself with the Iranians. He received a visit from two of Kerimi’s colleagues, who asked for the İHÖ’s assistance in operations they were planning against members of Iranian dissident groups in Turkey. Çağrıcı agreed, provided that the İHÖ received payment for its efforts. In June 1992, the organization planted remote-controlled IEDs under two cars belonging to Iranian dissidents in the Şişli neighborhood in the center of Istanbul. The devices were discovered and detonated by the Turkish police in a controlled explosion. However, a team led by Çağrıcı did succeed in kidnapping Ali Akbar Gorbani, one of the leaders of the dissidents. They took him to a villa in the town of Yalova on the shore of the Sea of Marmara, where he was handed over to Iranian intelligence agents. The Iranians interrogated and tortured Gorbani for ten days before strangling him. A team of three İHÖ militants then buried his corpse in a nearby forest. In early fall 1992, Çağrıcı received another request from the Iranians: this time to kidnap a former member of the Shah’s regime called Abbas Gholizadeh, who was living in exile in Istanbul. After being put under surveillance, Gholizadeh was kidnapped from the Asian side of Istanbul and taken to a villa rented by the İHÖ in the port of Gemlik on the Sea of Marmara. He was then handed over to Iranian intelligence for interrogation and execution. By late 1992, divisions had begun to appear in the İHÖ. Several militants had become exasperated by Çağrıcı’s autocratic manner and what appeared to be his preference for staging robberies instead of operations which would accelerate the

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creation of an Islamic state. The divisions deepened when, in January 1993, police investigating a series of car thefts by what they thought was a criminal gang stumbled on a cache of weapons, explosives, and documents in an İHÖ safe house in the Istanbul suburb of Küçükyalı. Further police raids on other safe houses followed, forcing the militants to scatter and accelerating the disintegration of the organization. Although members continued to stage occasional robberies, there were no more assassinations. Gradually, the police began to track down and arrest İHÖ members, culminating in the capture of Çağrıcı on 2 March 1996. On 24 July 2000, Çağrıcı was sentenced to death, later commuted to life imprisonment, for the murders of Emeç, Ercan, Dursun, and Gorbani. All of the other leading members of the organization also received life sentences, and the İHÖ effectively ceased to exist.

The Jerusalem Warriors The militants known in Turkish as the Kudüs Savaşcıları, or “Jerusalem Warriors,” were more an extension of the Iranian Vezarat-e Ettela’at va Amniat-e Keshvar (Ministry of Intelligence and National Security or VEVAK) than an organization in their own right. The name has become synonymous with two cells—one in Ankara and one in Istanbul—which were involved in a series of bombings and assassinations in Turkey during the period between 1988 and 1999. The two cells had little contact with each other and differed in terms of their composition, character, and activities. Operations tasked by VEVAK tended to be mainly directed against Iranian dissidents or third-country nationals in Turkey rather than Turks. The Ankara cell also conducted a number of high-profile operations on its own initiative, including the assassination of several high-profile Turkish secularists. However, although it gathered intelligence on Turkish institutions, particularly the state security apparatus, VEVAK usually pursued a strategy of facilitating rather than instigating violence against Turkish targets. The Jerusalem Warriors cell in Ankara was headed by Ferhan Özmen (born 1964), a native of Sivas in eastern Turkey. He appears to have become radicalized by reading Islamist literature after he quit high school to take over the running of the family bookshop following the premature death of his father. In the early 1980s, he traveled to Siirt in southeastern Turkey to study Arabic and Islamic law before moving to Ankara. It is unclear when he first made contact with Iranian intelligence, but he was probably recruited in Turkey in the late 1980s and had already carried out an assassination for VEVAK before he first traveled to Iran for political indoctrination and military training in 1989. Over the next few years, Özmen paid several more visits to Iran, where he received instruction in basic tradecraft, the handling of different types of weapons, and bomb-making. Özmen’s first operations were against Saudi Arabian targets identified by his Iranian handlers as part of an Iranian campaign to avenge the killing on 31 July 1987 of more than 400 pilgrims—approximately two thirds of them Iranians— when the Saudi security forces attempted to suppress anti–U.S. demonstrations in Mecca during the annual hajj. On 25 October 1988, Özmen shot dead Abdul Ghani Bedawi, the second secretary at the Saudi Arabian embassy in Ankara. A year later,


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on 16 October 1989, a car bomb planted by Özmen seriously injured Abdurrahman Shrewi, the Saudi military attaché in Ankara. Three months later, on 14 January 1990, Özmen placed an IED under the car of another Saudi diplomat, Abdulrezzak Keshmiri; this time without causing any injuries. Starting in 1990, Özmen began to stage operations on his own initiative against prominent Turkish secularists, using weapons and explosives he had been given by the Iranians. On the evening of 31 January 1990, Özmen shot and killed Professor Muammer Aksoy (1917–90), a prominent secularist academic, outside his home in Ankara. On 6 October 1990, he killed another secularist academic, Assistant Professor Bahriye Uçok (1919–90), by sending a letter bomb to her Ankara home. Supported by two other Iran-trained militants, Necdet Yüksel (born 1967) and Oğuz Demir (born c. 1970), Özmen then began targeting Ankara-based diplomats from countries which he believed had either mistreated Muslims or betrayed the Islamic cause. On the morning of 28 October 1991, Özmen and Demir placed IEDs under the cars of Victor Marwick of the U.S. embassy and Abdullah Hussein Al Quraby of the Egyptian embassy; the latter in order to punish Cairo for maintaining good relations with Washington. The devices exploded within minutes of each other. Marwick was killed and Al Quraby was seriously injured. On 12 December 1992, Özmen, Yüksel, and Demir detonated an IED under a car belonging to Yaspar Kumar, the second secretary at the Indian embassy, to protest the country’s policy towards the disputed territory of Kashmir. On 19 April 1994, following news reports of Serbian atrocities against Muslims in the Bosnian town of Gorazde, they placed an IED under a car of a Yugoslav diplomat called Zivorad Simich. Although both devices caused material damage, neither explosion resulted in any injuries. In his statement to the police after his arrest, Özmen also claimed responsibility for the IED that killed Ehud Sadan, a Mossad intelligence officer working out of the Israeli Embassy in Ankara, on 7 March 1992. The attack appears to have been commissioned by VEVAK, which was anxious to kill an Israeli. However, it seems to have been Özmen who chose Sadan as the target and who, together with Yüksel and Demir, conducted surveillance and planted the device.47 The Ankara cell’s most notorious assassination occurred on 24 January 1993, when an IED placed under his car killed Uğur Mumcu, Turkey’s leading investigative journalist and a staunch secularist who had repeatedly criticized Iran in his column in the daily Cumhuriyet. Mumcu’s death sparked numerous rumors and conspiracy theories, many of which claimed that he had been killed by elements in the Turkish state security apparatus. However, despite a parliamentary inquiry, no evidence was ever produced. By the time the members of the Ankara cell responsible for Mumcu’s murder were finally arrested in May 2000 and gave detailed confessions,48 the conspiracy theories had become so deeply entrenched that many Turks remained convinced that elements in the state security apparatus were responsible for Mumcu’s murder. In 1995, Demir was called up for military service and Özmen recruited another Iran-trained militant, Rüştü Aytufan (born 1974). On 7 June 1995, the cell attempted to assassinate Professor Yuda Yürüm (born 1946), the leader of the Turkish Jewish community in Ankara, by detonating an IED under his car. However, though

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badly injured, Yürüm survived the blast. VEVAK appears at least to have had prior knowledge of the attack on Yürüm and may even have ordered it. The Ankara cell’s final high-profile assassination occurred on 21 October 1999, when another prominent secularist, Professor Ahmet Taner Kışlalı (1939–99), was killed by an IED placed on his car. Although Demir had returned from his military service and participated in some of the surveillance, the device was planted by the three-man team of Özmen, Yüksel, and Aytufan. Unlike the Ankara cell, which was compact and concentrated almost exclusively on bombings and assassinations, the Jerusalem Warriors cell in Istanbul was larger and primarily concerned with propaganda rather than violence. It was based around the Tevhid magazine and the Selam newspaper, both of which were published by Hasan Kılıç (born 1959), a lawyer with strong pro-Iranian sympathies.49 Most of the members of the Istanbul cell received military training in Iran. In the early 1990s, they also established a small training camp in the province of Izmit in northwestern Turkey, where they practiced weapons drills and unarmed combat. Several militants subsequently spent time in the former Yugoslavia, where they fought alongside the Muslim Bosnians against the Serbs. However, their involvement in violence inside Turkey was almost always at the behest of the Iranians rather than on their own initiative. In late 1992, Kılıç’s Iranian case officers asked him to kidnap an Iranian dissident called Abbas Gholizadeh, who had fled to Istanbul. The initial surveillance had already been conducted by members of the İHÖ; all that Kılıç had to do was to arrange for Gholizadeh to be kidnapped. On 26 December 1992, Gholizadeh was snatched off the street by three members of Kılıç’s cell, bundled into van, and driven to a rendezvous, where he was handed over to Iranian intelligence officers. He was then taken to a villa in Yalova, where he died under torture three weeks later.50 In early 1996, the Iranians again asked for Kılıç’s help; this time to provide logistical support, including the supply of mobile telephones, for an operation which concluded with the shooting by VEVAK agents of the Iranian dissidents Zahra Rajabi and Abdul-Ali Moradi in Istanbul on 20 February 1996.51 In early 2000, the Turkish police came across references to some of the Jerusalem Warriors militants on computer disks seized during the raid on the İlim safe house in Beykoz on 17 January 2000. Believing that they might be linked to the murder of Kışlalı in October the previous year, the police launched what came to be known as Umut Operasyonu, or “Operation Hope.” By May 2000, following several months of surveillance and the rigorous interrogation of suspects, the police had arrested almost all of the members of the Istanbul and Ankara cells. The main exception was Demir, who is believed to have escaped abroad. In July 2005, after a lengthy trial, Özmen, Yüksel, and Aytufan were sentenced to life imprisonment. The other members of the cells received lengthy custodial sentences.

The Islamic Raiders of the Great East–Front The İslami Büyük Doğu Akıncılar–Cephesi (Islamic Raiders of the Great East– Front or İBDA-C) has its roots in the youth movement of the MSP. It was founded


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by Salih İzzet Erdiş (born 1950), who was later to become better known by his nom de guerre of Salih Mirzabeyoğlu. Erdiş was born in the southeastern city of Erzincan and became a disciple of Necip Fazıl Kısakürek while still at high school. Kısakürek’s prose works combined Islamic revivalism with Ottoman nostalgia, a fierce hatred of the Christian West and a virulent anti-Semitism. He advocated what he described as the Büyük Doğu, or “Great East,” a vaguely defined system of thought that sought to create an Islamic state based on a return to the uncorrupted ideals of the community created by the Prophet Muhammed.52 Erdiş was an active member of the MSP’s Ak-Der but later left in frustration at its failure to be more assertive in trying to reintroduce the Shari’a. In November 1975, Erdiş and a handful of other young radicals began publishing their own Islamist magazine, which they called Gölge, or “Shadow.” Erdiş also became a prolific author, publishing forty-six books over a period of twenty-five years, including poetry, novels, and Islamist treatises. But it was not until 1984, one year after Kısakürek’s death, that Erdiş decided to move from propaganda to violence through the founding of the İBDA-C. The İBDA-C’s primary aim is the recreation of what Erdiş maintains was the supra-ethnic, universalistic empire of the Ottomans, initially inside the borders of modern Turkey but eventually expanding to encompass first other Muslim countries and eventually the entire world. Nevertheless, İBDA-C literature repeatedly stresses the Kurdish pedigree both of Erdiş, who is described as being descended from a long line of devout Kurdish nobles,53 and of the movement itself, which is seen as heir to the failed 1925 Sheikh Said uprising.54 The İBDA-C is also rigorously sectarian. For Kısakürek, Islam meant only Sunni Islam and any other interpretation was a perversion of the original message of the Qur’an. As a result, the İBDA-C has been relentless in its criticism of Turkey’s Alevi minority. It has also meant that, unlike virtually every other radical Islamist group in Turkey, the İBDA-C has been hostile to the Shia regime in Iran. On 17 March 1992, İBDA-C sympathizers at Istanbul University even attacked members of another Islamist group, Müslüman Gençlik, or “Muslim Youth,” who were attempting to distribute leaflets praising the 1979 Iranian Revolution. The İBDA-C has supplemented Islamist rhetoric with many of the slogans of the far left, including a call for an equitable redistribution of wealth to “put an end to the addictions brought about by excessive capital and high incomes” and for a “national pool” of funds on which “everyone would be able to draw according to his needs.”55 Like most indigenous Islamist groups, the İBDA-C has two wings: a propaganda wing, which publishes books and periodicals and organizes meetings and conferences; and a military wing, which is responsible for bombings and attacks on civilian targets. However, the military wing does not have a command hierarchy or centrally coordinated cell network. Violence is regarded more as a propaganda tool in an ideological struggle than as a means of seizing political power. Its members form themselves into small autonomous groups and conduct operations within the strategic parameters outlined in İBDA-C books and periodicals. Erdiş describes this delegation of initiative in terms of the religious duty of Muslims to

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act according to an “individual dialectic,”56 quoting from a hadith which states that: “Whosoever of you sees an evil action, let him change it with his hand; and if he is not able to do so, then with his tongue; and if he is not able to do so, then with his heart; and that is the weakest of faith.”57 İBDA-C members are also encouraged to issue false alarms and claim responsibility for operations carried out by other groups on the grounds that the resultant publicity will increase exposure to the organization’s propaganda activities.58 Such strategies of obfuscation and dissimulation, combined with the militant wing’s decentralized structure and a preference for relatively low-risk targets, have made it difficult to assess the İBDA-C’s true size or effectiveness. Most of the operations which can be confidently attributed to the İBDA-C have been against low-risk, symbolic targets. They have included: the demolition of busts and statues of Atatürk in schools and public parks; the desecration of non-Muslim graveyards; Molotov cocktails hurled at unoccupied churches and synagogues; and the fire-bombings of stores and restaurants serving alcohol, usually outside opening hours.59 Claims in the organization’s literature in the mid-1990s that it was training mountain commandoes appear, at the very least, to have been highly exaggerated. İBDA-C activities have been primarily concentrated in Istanbul and Ankara, where it has recruited mainly from relatively poor, first-generation Kurdish migrants from the countryside. It is unlikely that the militant wing of İBDA-C has ever had more than a few hundred active members, a large proportion of whom were arrested in the late 1990s. While the organization’s hostility to Iran and its strong attachment to its own ideology have meant that it has remained intellectually isolated and have deprived it of the expertise, training, and financial resources that could have been provided by a state sponsor or transnational organization. The operations of the İBDA-C’s military wing peaked in the mid-1990s, after which it came under increasing pressure from the Turkish security forces. By late 1998, most of the leading members of the organization had been arrested. Erdiş was finally captured on 31 December 1998 and charged with attempting to overthrow the constitutional order by force of arms. On 3 April 2001, Erdiş was found guilty and sentenced to death, although this was later commuted to life imprisonment. On 25 March 2004, Erdiş received a further twenty-year sentence for organizing a riot of İBDA-C inmates in the Metris Prison in Istanbul on 25 January 2000.60 Erdiş had long predicted that 1999 would be the “Year of Liberation,” when the İBDA-C would finally overthrow Kemalist secularism in Turkey.61 The failure of his prediction, coupled with ill health and injuries suffered during and after the riot of January 2000, appear to have combined to produce a deterioration in his mental health. On 25 June 2000, Erdiş was admitted to the prison hospital after trying to hang himself in his prison cell. When he had recovered, Erdiş issued a statement claiming that, prior to his suicide attempt, he had heard voices telling him to kill himself.62 In 2003, the İBDA-C published a book by Erdiş entitled TelegramZihin Kontrolü (Telegram-Mind Control), in which he maintained that his cell was being bombarded by electromagnetic waves from machines developed for the U.S. National Security Agency in an attempt to discredit the organization by forcing him to commit suicide.63


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Despite their leader’s frailties, İBDA-C militants continued to firebomb bars, nightclubs, and churches. On 30 April 2004, the İBDA-C demonstrated both its capacity for violence and its increasing parochialism when three of its militants shot and killed an eighty-one-year-old retired army colonel, İhsan Güven (1923–2004), and his wife Sibel Güven (1964–2004) in their home in the Tuzla neighborhood of Istanbul. Güven had been head of a Kemalist discussion group with cultist overtones known as the Dost Tarikatı, or “Brotherhood of Friends.” For reasons which remain obscure, in Telegram-Mind Control, Erdiş had accused Güven of being one of those responsible for the use of mind-control techniques to try to force him to commit suicide.64 Seven İBDA-C members were subsequently charged with conspiracy to murder. When they were taken into custody, the militants asserted that they had been acting on their own initiative using their individual dialecticism.65

The Union of Islamic Communities and Congregations The İslamî Cemiyetler ve Cemaatler Birliği (Union of Islamic Communities and Congregations or İCCB) was founded in Cologne, Germany, in 1985 by Cemalettin Kaplan (1926–95). Born in the southeastern town of Erzurum, Kaplan studied theology in Ankara and worked for a time as state-employed cleric in the eastern Mediterranean city of Adana. During the 1970s, he became involved with the MSP but fled to Germany after the 1980 coup. He settled in Cologne, where he worked for the AMGT. Kaplan left the AMGT in 1983 and in 1985 established İCCB, which was dedicated to the establishment in Turkey of an Islamic state based on Shari’a law.66 During the late 1980s, Kaplan restructured the İCCB, tightening his personal control and transforming what had once been a relatively open organization into a closed hierarchical sect. In 1991 he told his followers to wage a jihad against Turkey. In April 1992 he proclaimed himself the caliph of the Islamic world and the ruler in exile of the Anadolu Federal Islamî Devleti (Islamic Federal State of Anatolia or AFID), based in Turkey. In 1994 the İCCB was renamed the Hilafet Devleti, or “Caliph State.” By the early 1990s, Kaplan is estimated to have had over 7,000 followers in Germany alone67 and several hundred more amongst the Turkish Diaspora in the Netherlands. Cassette tapes of Kaplan’s speeches smuggled into Turkey by his supporters had also enabled him to develop a powerbase of over 300 followers inside the country, mostly in Istanbul. Despite his often fiery rhetoric, none of Kaplan’s followers appear to have resorted to violence during his lifetime. However, the situation changed in May 1995, when Kaplan died of cancer and was succeeded by his son, Metin Kaplan (born 1952). Without the charisma, oratorical skills, or religious knowledge of his father, Metin Kaplan struggled to hold the organization together. When a group of Hilafet Devleti members in Berlin broke away and proclaimed one of their number, Halil Ibrahim Sofu (1968–97), as caliph, Metin Kaplan issued a fatwa condemning Sofu and noting that the punishment for attempting to usurp the caliphate was death. On 9 May 1997, Sofu was shot dead by Kaplan’s supporters. On 15 November 2000, a court in Düsseldorf found Kaplan guilty of incitement to murder and

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sentenced him to four years in prison. In December 2001, the Hilafet Devleti was officially banned by the Germany authorities. Metin Kaplan has also been accused of planning a series of attacks inside Turkey to coincide with the seventh-fifth anniversary of the founding of the Turkish Republic on 29 October 1998. On 26 October 1998, Turkish police arrested twentyfour Kaplan sympathizers in Turkey whom they alleged were plotting to seize control of Fatih mosque and the Ayasofya museum in Istanbul and to crash a Cessna light aircraft packed with explosives into the Anıtkabir in Ankara. After his release from prison in Germany in 2003, Kaplan was extradited to Turkey. On 20 June 2005, he was convicted by the Fourteenth Istanbul Criminal Court of an “attempt to overthrow the constitutional order by force of arms” and sentenced to life imprisonment with no possibility of parole. At the time it was outlawed in December 2001, membership of the Hilafet Devleti was estimated to have fallen to around 1,10068 and has almost certainly declined still further in recent years. However, although they have now been forced underground, Kaplan’s followers have continued with propaganda activities through magazines and Websites.69

Other Indigenous Groups Since the late 1980s, numerous other indigenous groups have been formed which have espoused the use of violence in pursuit of Islamist goals. The majority have been very small and relatively short-lived. However, although several have stockpiled weapons or organized pseudo-military training camps for their members, to date most have refrained from direct involvement in violence. An exception is Vasat, which takes its name from the Vasat magazine which was published in the southeastern cities of Gaziantep and Adıyaman. In the mid-1990s, Vasat developed a presence in Istanbul and organized training camps in rural areas to the east of the city. However, its only confirmed attack occurred in southeast Turkey. On 14 September 1997, at the Gaziantep Book Fair, Vasat detonated an IED at a stand belonging to Müjde Yayıncılık (Good News Press), which is run by Turkish converts to Christianity. One child was killed and twenty-two adults injured. Most of the leading members of Vasat were arrested in a series of police operations in June 1999, since when the organization has effectively ceased to function.

Transnational Affiliates Violent indigenous Islamist groups in Turkey have always seen themselves as local actors in an international struggle. With the notable exception of the İBDA-C, they have drawn primarily on Turkish translations of foreign writers for ideological inspiration. Similarly, developments in the rest of the Muslim world have stimulated recruitment and served as catalysts for action. However, it was only in the late 1980s, when a handful started traveling to Afghanistan to join the mujahideen in the Soviet-Afghan War (1979–89), that Turks began to travel outside the country to fight alongside their coreligionists. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, direct


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foreign involvement in Islamist violence inside Turkey was limited to the training, funding, and logistical support provided to indigenous groups by elements in the Iranian secret service. When war broke out in Bosnia and Chechnya during the early 1990s, a combination of Ottoman nostalgia and geographical proximity prompted a rapid rise in the number of militants traveling abroad to join what they regarded as an international jihad. However, indigenous groups actively engaged in violence inside Turkey rarely sought to become involved. They neither recruited nor supplied militants to fight in conflicts outside the country, preferring to conserve all of their resources for what they saw as the jihad inside Turkey. Although there were a few isolated instances of members of these groups leaving the country to fight abroad, it was always on their own initiative. It was also very rare to find examples of militants who had fought abroad returning to Turkey and joining a group that was already actively engaged in violence inside the country. As a result, even if they eventually returned, the Turkish authorities paid little attention to those Turks who did travel abroad to fight, as they were not regarded as posing a threat to the country’s security. Muslims fighting in the Balkans and Caucasus also enjoyed considerable public support in Turkey and were able to propagandize and fundraise with impunity. For example, for several months in the mid1990s, one Chechen support group with links to the separatist insurgents fighting the Russians was allowed to hang a large sign outside its office in Harbiye in central Istanbul claiming to be the “Chechen Consulate General.” While Islamist activists engaged in armed struggles in the Balkans and the Caucasus regularly appeared at conferences and meetings of Islamist business associations in Turkey.70 The Turkish networks which were sending militants to join the international jihad were also able to operate relatively openly.71 In most cases, there was no single centralized organization but a complex of different chains of informal contacts, sometimes interconnected and sometimes running in parallel, which involved a range of sympathizers, Islamic charities, radical preachers, Islamist businessmen and politicians, and employees at Islamist magazines and newspapers. There were also liaison offices along the supply routes, particularly in Pakistan for militants wishing to go to camps in Afghanistan. Inside Turkey, local groups and organizations provided logistical support—such as accommodation and stolen passports— for foreign militants transiting the country to fight elsewhere. Other young Turks were radicalized when they went abroad to study. Intense competition for places at university in Turkey has long meant that only a small proportion of those who sit the university entrance examination are successful; with the ratio falling dramatically among poorer families unable to send their children to fee-paying weekend crammer courses. In the often desperately impoverished east and southeast of the Turkey, one solution has been for students who fail the university entrance examinations to study in Syria, Iran, or, particularly from the 1990s onwards, Pakistan. Not only were the courses relatively cheap, but in Pakistan they were often in English; thus enabling Turkish students to learn a foreign language. Unlike the strictly secular universities in Turkey, universities in Pakistan also offered ample opportunity to study Islam, which was often a considerable lure in itself for students from what has always been the most devout region of Turkey.

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Few students returned to Turkey less pious than when they had left and, while they were away, some inevitably fell under the influence of hard-line exponents of international jihad. There are no reliable figures on the number of Turks who traveled abroad to fight during the 1990s, although at least 1,500 are believed to have received military training in camps in Pakistan and Afghanistan alone; often in preparation to fight in Chechnya, where there was limited opportunity for pre-combat training. Others went on to fight in Kashmir and Afghanistan. However, a large proportion of Turkish militants did not complete their courses of training, either because the physical conditions were too demanding or because they were unwilling to go on to fight in what they saw as others’ wars; such as conflicts with other Afghan warlords. Turkish militants in the training camps in Afghanistan were often grouped together and received training in their own language from fellow Turks. Although some remained in Afghanistan for years, most only stayed a few months before returning to Turkey; usually with the intention of leaving again to put their newly acquired skills into practice. The main route to Chechnya was through Georgia. In the late 1990s, the Georgian authorities began to clamp down on militants transiting the country, imprisoning and repatriating those whom they caught. Yet the Turkish authorities appear to have made no effort to monitor the activities of any of the militants who were returned to Turkey. The shortsightedness of this approach was demonstrated by the Istanbul bombings of November 2003, which killed sixty-three people (including four suicide bombers) and wounded around 750 more. The attacks were carried out by a group formed specifically for the purpose around a core of militants, almost all of them originally from southeast Turkey, who had received technical and doctrinal training in camps in Pakistan and Afghanistan. They were led by Habib Akdaş (1973–2004), an Islamist student activist in Turkish universities during the early 1990s who later became involved in the recruitment of militants to fight in the Balkans and the Caucasus. Akdaş travelled several times to Pakistan and Al Qaeda camps in Afghanistan. During his last visit to Afghanistan in summer 2001, Akdaş and two other Turkish militants, Baki Yigit (born 1966) and Adnan Ersöz (born 1970), approached Abu Hafs al Masri (1944–2001), a member of Al Qaeda’s ruling troika,72 to seek financial support for attacks in Turkey. After some discussion, al Masri approved a plan to attack Jewish and Western targets in Turkey. Al Qaeda approval was sealed by a breakfast meeting between Osama Bin Ladin (born 1957) and Akdaş, Yiğit, and Ersöz at the beginning of September 2001.73 Akdaş, Yiğit, and Ersöz fled Afghanistan in September 2001 in anticipation of a U.S. military campaign against the Taliban and Al Qaeda following the attacks on New York and Washington on 11 September 2001. Before they left Afghanistan, Akdaş was given around $8,000 by Al Qaeda to cover the group’s initial expenses; on the apparent understanding that more money would be forwarded once the plans for the attacks in Turkey had been finalized. Akdaş and Yiğit made their way overland to Turkey while Ersöz remained in Pakistan to liaise with Al Qaeda. However, a deteriorating personal relationship with Akdaş and fears that his security had been compromised meant that Ersöz became marginalized, first returning to Turkey and then leaving for Iran around


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September 2003. Most of the final planning for the bombings appears to have been done by Akdaş, supported by Yiğit and two other militants, Harun İlhan (born 1971) and Gurcan Baç (born 1973). Although other militants were recruited, the group was expanded on an ad hoc basis, mostly from other veterans of their camps, their acquaintances, and even relatives. It never developed into a structured organization. Through 2002, the group concentrated on identifying possible targets. Initial plans to bomb the U.S. and Israeli Consulate Generals in Istanbul were abandoned as impractical; as was a plot to attack the İncirlik airbase, which is used by the U.S. Air Force, outside the eastern Mediterranean city of Adana. Instead, Akdaş decided to attack four targets with trucks packed with explosives and driven by suicide bombers. They comprised: two synagogues serving Istanbul’s Jewish community (the Neve Shalom synagogue in Galata and the Beth Israel synagogue in Şişli); passengers from an Israeli cruise ship as they disembarked at the Turkish Mediterranean resort of Alanya; and the Istanbul headquarters of the British-based Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC). Sometime between the end of 2002 and June 2003, the group received around $150,000 from elements associated with Al Qaeda. A substantial proportion of the money was apparently brought by courier, mostly by a Syrian national called Loa’i al-Saqa (born 1973). In July 2003 the group began buying large quantities of chemicals, particularly artificial fertilizer. In late August 2003 it rented storage facilities in the İkitelli industrial zone in Istanbul in the name of a front company called Gökkuşağı Deterjan, which was ostensibly a detergent company. The IEDs were put together in İkitelli from a mixture of ammonium sulfate, ammonium nitrate, and compressed fuel oil—a process that lasted through October 2003. The four IEDs, each containing around 2,350 kilograms of explosive materials, were then loaded onto four medium-sized trucks. The original plan had been to detonate the first IED among Israeli passengers as they disembarked from a cruise ship in Alanya on Friday, 7 November 2003. On the following morning, as worshippers gathered for Sabbath prayer, two more IEDs were to be detonated at the Neve Shalom and Beth Israel synagogues; and at mid-morning on the following Monday, the fourth IED was to be detonated outside HSBC headquarters in the Levent neighborhood of Istanbul. On 6 November 2003, one of the trucks was driven the 850 kilometers from Istanbul to Alanya. But the cruise ship failed to appear, reportedly because of bad weather. All four bombings were postponed by a week. When the cruise ship did not appear on 14 November either—again reportedly because of bad weather—the attack in Alanya was abandoned and the truck driven back to Istanbul. But the synagogue bombings went ahead. A little before 9:30 AM on 15 November 2003, a militant called Gökhan Elaltuntaş (1971–2003) drove an Isuzu truck up to the entrance of the Neve Shalom synagogue and detonated the IED it was carrying.74 Around five minutes later, another militant, Mesut Çabuk (1974–2003), drove an almost identical Isuzu truck up to the back of the Beth Israel synagogue and detonated the second IED. The two blasts killed thirty people, including the two suicide bombers, and injured around 300 more. A total of 130 buildings were damaged, thirty-eight of them seriously,

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including both synagogues. Six of the dead were Jews. All of the other fatalities and the vast majority of the injured were Turkish Muslims. It is unclear when the group decided to add the UK Consulate General in Istanbul as a fourth target to replace the Israeli cruise ship or how much surveillance was conducted before it was attacked. But it is likely that the change in target and the time needed to bring the fourth truck back from Alanya contributed to the delay in the second wave of bombings. Nevertheless, at approximately 10:55 AM on 20 November 2003, a militant called İlyas Kuncak (1956–2003) drove a Hino medium-sized truck up to the main entrance of the HSBC headquarters and detonated the IED it was carrying. Around six minutes later, Feridun Uğurlu (1976– 2003) rammed a Hino truck into the gate of the perimeter wall surrounding the UK Consulate General, penetrating the compound and detonating the IED as his vehicle struck the hydraulic blocker set in the ground just inside the gate. A total of thirty-three people were killed, including the two suicide bombers, and a further 450 injured. The explosion outside the HSBC office sheared off the façade of the building, severely damaged its first two stories, and shattered windows 500 meters away. The blast at the UK Consulate General demolished the gatehouse and a large section of the perimeter wall, destroying six buildings in the street outside and damaging thirty-eight more. Three HSBC employees lost their lives. At the UK Consulate General, ten members of staff were killed, including the Consul General and two other expatriates. With the exception of these three Britons, all of the other fatalities and the most of the injured were Muslim Turks. Although the perpetrators had used false identities to rent premises and purchase the trucks used in the attacks, most were of their friends and relatives (for example, they would borrow an acquaintance’s identity card to apply for a passport). As a result, it proved relatively easy for the police to trace people connected to the bombers. None of the militants appear to have received anti-interrogation training. Most of them freely confessed everything they knew. By the end of December 2003, a large proportion of those involved in the planning of the attacks were in custody, including Yiğit, İlhan, and Ersöz.75 However, Akdaş and Baç remained at large. They are believed to have fled Turkey to join the insurgency in Iraq, where unconfirmed reports suggest that both were killed in 2004. On the evening of 9 March 2004, two other Turkish militants who had been trained in camps in Pakistan and Afghanistan, Nihat Doğruel (1978–2004) and Engin Vural (born 1971), attacked a Masonic lodge in Yakacık on the outskirts of Istanbul.76 Both had previously fought in Chechnya. According to statements later given to police, Doğruel and Vural had originally planned to burst into the lodge, spray those inside with semi-automatic rifles, and then detonate fourteen homemade pipe bombs which they had strapped to their bodies. However, although they managed to overpower the guard on the gate, they were challenged by a waiter as they tried to enter the restaurant, where around forty people were dining. They responded by opening fire and detonating their bombs. One of the waiters was killed and five of the diners were wounded. But only four of the bombs exploded, killing Doğruel and seriously injuring Vural. Although the Turkish Public Prosecutor subsequently charged eighteen people in connection with the attack, most


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appear merely to have been acquaintances of Doğruel and Vural and not to have had any detailed prior knowledge of the attack. Nor do any outside forces, such as elements associated with Al Qaeda, seem even to have been aware of the assault, much less involved in its planning or execution. Ballistics tests on the weapons used in the Yakacık attack indicated that one of them had also been used to kill Yasef Yahya (1964–2003), a Turkish Jewish dentist who was murdered in his surgery in Şişli in central Istanbul on 21 August 2003. Vural later confessed to the murder, explaining to police that he and Doğruel had needed money to finance a “martyrdom operation” and had decided that the best way to raise funds was by robbing and killing a Jew.77 Since the attacks in Istanbul, the Turkish security forces have begun to target groups of militants formed around veterans of the camps in Pakistan and Afghanistan, seizing stockpiles of weapons and taking suspects in for interrogation. Under Turkish law, “forming an organization in order to overthrow the constitution by force of arms” is a serious offence—a crime of ultimate intent that does not necessarily need to be proved by actual or imminent deeds. As a result, it is difficult to assess how close some of the arrested militants were to translating theory into action. However, in May 2004, the Turkish police claimed to have foiled a planned attack on the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) summit that was due to be held in Istanbul on 28–29 June 2004, and detained a total of sixteen militants with alleged links to Al Qaeda in raids in Istanbul and the city of Bursa. In April 2006 another nine radical Islamists with alleged links to Al Qaeda were detained in the southeastern city of Gaziantep on suspicion of planning a mass casualty attack. In January 2007 the Turkish police claimed to have foiled a similar mass casualty attack in a metropolitan area. The conspiracy was primarily based in Konya, although a total of forty-eight militants were detained in simultaneous raids in seven different provinces. However, the only attack which is known to have gone beyond the planning stage was an attempt by Loa’i al-Saqa, the alleged courier for the November 2003 attacks, to bomb an Israeli cruise ship in 2005. Al-Saqa apparently planned to crash a yacht laden with explosives into the cruise ship as it approached the Mediterranean resort of Antalya. Together with another Syrian national called Hamed Obysi (born 1984), he had bought a twenty-seven-foot yacht, a submersible water scooter, and diving equipment. He had also procured sufficient hydrogen peroxide, aluminum powder, acetone, and C4 plastic explosive to make a 750-kilogram IED. In the early hours of 4 August 2005, a fire broke out in the apartment al-Saqa and Obysi were using to make the IED; probably as a result of an electrical fault caused by the distiller al-Saqa was using to concentrate the hydrogen. Al-Saqa and Obysi fled, leaving behind documents and several false IDs. When neighbors called the emergency services to extinguish the fire, they discovered the bomb-making equipment. Al-Saqa was subsequently arrested as he tried to board a plane in Diyarbakır. Obysi was detained as he tried to flee across the border to Syria. Between the November 2003 Istanbul bombings and his failed attempt to attack the Israeli cruise ship in August 2005, al-Saqa is known to have fought in the insurgency in Iraq, probably under the overall command of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi (1966–2006). Al-Saqa’s statements during his interrogation and subsequent

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trial were frequently conflicting and incoherent, mixing transparent untruths with attempts at self-glorification. The reasons for his return to Turkey, the extent to which he received assistance from inside or outside the country, and the source of the financing for the abortive attack in Antalya all remain unclear; although the assumption is that the latter was from an Al Qaeda affiliate. However, after the U.S.–led invasion of 2003, Iraq served more as a magnet for radical Turkish Islamists than as a platform for attacks inside Turkey. Before the November 2003 Istanbul bombings, there had been considerable debate in radical Islamist circles about whether Turkey was in the Dar al-Islam or the Dar al-Harb, and thus whether or not it qualified as a target for jihad. Even some of those responsible for the November 2003 Istanbul bombings saw Turkey as having an intermediate status, an acceptable venue for jihad without being a target in itself.78 The doubts were reinforced by the high number of Muslim casualties in the November 2003 Istanbul bombings. But there were no such qualms about attacking the United States and its allies in Iraq. As a result, from 2003 onwards, it was usually simply easier for Islamist militants to cross the border and join the insurgency in Iraq rather than trying to stage an attack in the considerably more difficult operating environment inside Turkey.

Future Prospects The U.S. invasion and subsequent occupation of Iraq have undoubtedly inflamed radical Islamist opinion inside Turkey and probably led to an increase in the number of militants willing to use violence in pursuit of Islamist goals. However, the ongoing insurgency in Iraq has also probably reduced the threat of Islamist violence inside Turkey by attracting Turkish militants who might otherwise have attempted to stage attacks in their own country. It is currently unclear what will happen when or if the insurgency in Iraq eventually abates. Much will depend on the international situation at the time, particularly on whether or not another front has opened up in what militants now regard as an international jihad. Nevertheless, although an increase in attacks inside Turkey would appear likely, there is little doubt that the Turkish security forces are now much more aware of the threat posed to domestic security by returning jihadists and local groups with links to transnational organizations such as Al Qaeda. By late 2007, the only indigenous militant Islamist organization able to pose a significant threat to Turkish domestic security appeared to be the İlim group. Indeed, its new emphasis on social and charitable activities had enabled it to put down deeper roots in local communities in southeastern Turkey than at any time in the organization’s history. But it was unclear whether when or if it would launch a sustained campaign of violence. There is no doubt that the vast majority of Muslims in Turkey have been appalled by the violence perpetrated inside their country in the name of their religion. Nevertheless, there is enough evidence—not least the 20,000 biographical forms found in the İlim archives in the 1990s—to suggest that, even before the U.S.-led war in Iraq, there was still a sizeable pool of potential recruits for organizations which


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espoused violence in the name of Islam. But there is no question that the Iraq war accelerated the process of internationalizing Islamist extremism in Turkey. If some of the founders of the organizations established in the 1980s saw Turkey as a base from which to launch a worldwide struggle, the younger generation now see Turkey merely as one front in an international jihad that is already ongoing. This shift in emphasis has rendered the task of the Turkish security forces considerably more complicated and made it much more difficult to achieve victory on the psychological battlefield. Islamist militants believe not only that their acts of violence are sanctioned by God but also that their success or failure is also dependent on divine approval. The killing of Hüseyin Velioğlu, the founder of İlim, in January 2000, and the subsequent seizure of the organization’s archives and the detention of thousands of its members, was a devastating and unequivocal defeat. For the organization’s members and supporters, it was also an indication that İlim had been doing something which had caused it to lose divine approval. Yet for those who believe that they are part of an international jihad being fought simultaneously in many different countries, failure—and the perceived withdrawal of divine approval—must also be international.


Conclusion

O

ver the last two hundred years, almost all reform in what is now Turkey has been driven from the top by an educated elite; for whom—however much it may frequently have also been distrusted and even despised—the West, and particularly Europe, has been a benchmark and a model to emulate. Nowhere is this more true than in Atatürk’s extraordinary attempt to convert the rump of the Ottoman Empire into his vision of a modern European nation state. There is no question that Atatürk’s reform program transformed a substantial proportion of Turkish society. But its penetration was uneven: deeper amongst the urban educated elite of western Turkey, who cloaked their lives in many of the accoutrements of Western culture and lifestyles; shallower amongst the uneducated rural masses, who remained steeped in the conservative values of traditional Islam. By the time urbanization began to bring the peasantry into the cities in the 1950s and increase their exposure to the inculcation of Kemalist values, the introduction of multiparty democracy had already resulted in the first of what were to be many populist concessions to religious sentiments. But it would be a mistake to regard these concessions as simply facilitating a return to the past. From the early sixteenth century onwards, the dominant element in Ottoman urban Islam—and the element which had the greatest influence when it came to the interaction between politics and religion—had been the ulema. Even if the ulema’s relative influence had already begun to decline in the late nineteenth century, it was the Kemalist revolution which finally eradicated it as a pressure group. Atatürk’s attempts to suppress the tariqah had, of course, been less successful. Although they became less visible and were forced underground, the tariqah nevertheless survived varying degrees of persecution1 to provide the social networks which underpinned the emergence of Islamist political parties during the latter years of the twentieth century. Their clandestine meetings undoubtedly played an important role in transmitting knowledge about Islam to younger generations. However, the most critical contribution to the preservation and perpetuation of what were regarded as Islamic attitudes and values probably came from another institution, namely the family; not only from parents but also from grandparents, particularly given the prominent role that grandmothers traditionally play in Turkey in caring for young children. Only a tiny proportion of the members of this repository of Islamic knowledge and attitudes were literate and were thus able to read what was actually in the Qur’an. The result was that, even though Islam is arguably the most scriptural of

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the world’s great faiths, for the vast majority of the population of Anatolia, religious belief was based on oral traditions in which fragments from the Qur’an and the hadiths became mixed with vestiges of non-Islamic traditions and superstitions and practices from other religions;2 all included in a single body of belief without differentiation—and all regarded as being equally “Islamic.” As a result, when politicians began to court the religious vote, the demand was not—as it probably would have been if the ulema had not been eradicated—for the restoration of the Shari’a but for the protection of what were perceived as Islamic values. Over the years that followed, even though the spread of literacy has increased popular access to the text of the Qur’an, for the majority of pious Turks, the priority has remained not the amendment of the statute book to incorporate divine precepts but the Islam of tradition, lifestyle, and identity. The emphasis has been on culture not legislation, on society not the state. During the 1990s, the “Islamic counter-culture” started to move out of the margins of society and into the mainstream, where it began to challenge the dominant culture and lifestyle of the Kemalist elite. When combined with other domestic and international developments, not least the inculcation of the Turkish-Islamic synthesis in the wake of the 1980s coup, the result was the increasing Islamization of Turkish society and politics; as almost the entire political spectrum shifted towards the nationalist-Islamic right. Even if some of the change can be attributed to Islamist and ultranationalist wings detaching themselves from center-right parties, in the twenty years following the 1987 elections there was a dramatic increase in electoral support for parties which were perceived as having an Islamist or ultranationalist identity. The combined vote for Islamist and ultranationalist parties rose from 10.1 percent in the 1987 general elections to 16.9 percent in 1991, 29.9 percent in 1995, 34.9 percent in 1999, 54.0 percent in 2002, and 66.2 percent in 2007. It is also true that, as the political spectrum has shifted to the nationalistIslamist right, so the former members of the Milli Görüş movement who founded the Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (Justice and Development Party or AKP) have moderated the radical rhetoric of their youth. To their opponents this change has been disingenuous, an attempt to bide their time and hide their true agenda for fear of again provoking the anger of the secularist establishment. There is no doubt that the 28 February Process taught the Islamist movement to be more cautious. However, it is equally true that the leaders of the AKP have been changed not just by the proscription of the Refah Partisi (Welfare Party or RP) but also by the broadening of their personal horizons. To a large extent, even today Turkish society remains an archipelago of islands in which people with different views and lifestyles rarely come into sustained social contact with those whose opinions are different from their own. These divisions and mutual ignorance were even more pronounced prior to the 1990s. Privately, leading members of the AKP freely admit that they come from enclosed, very introspective, social backgrounds and that it was only when—often as a result of electoral success—they began to interact more frequently with those with different views and different lifestyles that they began to understand that there was a limit to the policy agenda that they could impose on Turkish society.3

CONCLUSION

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This is not to say that, as its leading members frequently claim, the AKP is not a religious party. The AKP’s policies and overall goals are informed by Islamist precepts and practices and a very strong sense of Islamic identity. But the party’s priority has been lifestyle rather than legislation; not so much imposing a conservative Islamic lifestyle on the population as lifting what they regard as the restrictions on pious Muslims being able to live according to their beliefs. It is true that, during its first term in power, the AKP only made a handful of attempts to change the prevailing interpretation of secularism in Turkey; and on each occasion backed down in the face of opposition from either the military or—particularly in the case of the attempt to criminalize adultery in September 2004—the European Union (EU). But the intent was clear. Until the AKP no longer fears an intervention from the military it will be impossible to know the extent to which it will attempt to amend the prevailing interpretation of secularism in Turkey.4 The AKP’s opponents’ warnings that the Turkey is in danger of becoming like Iran or Saudi Arabia are exaggerated. But, despite the softening of the previous antagonism of the AKP’s leaders towards those who do not share their views, there is no question that they wish to see religion adopting a higher profile in public life and a greater Islamization of Turkish society. Whatever the party’s leaders may say about the AKP not being a religious party, there is no question that, for the majority of its members, being a devout Muslim is a necessary prequalification for being regarded as what they describe as bizden biri or “one of us.”5 Since the AKP took power in November 2002, perceived personal piety has also virtually become a prerequisite not only for advancement within the government bureaucracy but also increasingly for success in bidding for state contracts.6 Unlike many Islamists in other countries, for the members of the AKP, the political community created by the Prophet Muhammad in Arabia in the seventh century serves as a secondary historical reference point. Their primary historical reference point is the Ottoman Empire—or at least their perception of the empire as a paradigm of peace, tolerance, and social harmony. Since it took power in November 2002, the AKP has not attempted to abolish Kemalism or the Atatürk personality cult, but there has been a significant decline in the vigor with which it has been inculcated. Prior to the AKP taking power, statesponsored cultural activities, local festivals, conferences, and official discourses would be anchored in references to Atatürk. Under the AKP, the emphasis of the legitimizing historical reference has shifted to the Ottoman Empire; to the extent that it has often felt like witnessing a transition from an Electra complex, with its reverence for the stern, patriarchal authoritarianism of Kemalism, to an Oedipus complex, with its emphasis on the myth of the warmth and inclusiveness of the Ottoman Empire. Ottoman nostalgia has undoubtedly also played an important role in the increased importance given by the AKP to strengthening Turkey’s ties with the Muslim countries of the Middle East in order to reassert itself as a major player in the region; even if AKP officials have sometimes been bewildered by the Arab world’s failure to share their happy memories of the Ottoman Empire.

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But the AKP’s sense of Muslim solidarity extends beyond the former Ottoman provinces. For example, there has been a marked contrast between the alacrity and generosity with which the AKP has dispatched emergency aid to Muslim countries following natural disasters and its tardiness when the victims have been non-Muslims. In the wake of the September 2005 earthquake in Pakistan, the state-owned postal service even ran a fundraising campaign calling on Turks to help “our sibling Muslim country, Pakistan.”7 Inevitably, the AKP’s emphasis on Islamic identity and Ottoman nostalgia has meant that meant that the Christian West has become the “other.” In this context, the AKP’s apparent enthusiasm for Turkish accession to the EU might seem simply paradoxical. However, the explanation is a little more complex. Although many members of the AKP were appalled by what they regarded as the moral failings of European society, the EU was nevertheless the benchmark against which even the AKP measured itself—not least in areas such as technical standards. There was also an awareness amongst the former members of the RP that the 28 February Process could not have occurred in an EU country, where the military was invariably completely subordinated to civilian control. More dangerously, the EU was also regarded as a matter of national pride. Once Turkey had applied for membership, very few Turks—even amongst those who were opposed to accession—wanted the country to be rejected. As a result, for the AKP, the accession process also offered the opportunity for self-aggrandizement, the opportunity to succeed where others had failed. Indeed, even when it was passing packages of EU reforms, the AKP often appeared to regard the EU not as a partner but as an opponent whose resistance had to be overcome; and the rhetoric used to describe each successful step in the process was redolent not of harmonious cooperation but of antagonism and conquest. Perhaps most importantly, the AKP appeared to have little understanding of the full consequences of EU membership; not least the degree to which members effectively pool a proportion of their national sovereignty. Once the AKP began to comprehend that the accession would bring not just freedoms but constraints on its ability to impose its own values—such as through criminalizing adultery— enthusiasm for membership rapidly began to wane. In theory at least, the AKP’s relations with the United States should have been more straightforward. Few in the AKP had any affection for the United States, but most were nevertheless aware that they needed good relations with Washington more than they wanted them. However, any hopes that relations could be based purely on pragmatism were swiftly dealt a fatal blow by the U.S. invasion and subsequent occupation of Iraq just months after the AKP came to power. Regardless of its intentions, there is no doubt that the war against Iraq had a devastating impact on the standing of the United States in the Muslim world. Turkey was no exception. Most Turks held the United States almost entirely responsible not only for the invasion itself—which they believed was primarily motivated by the desire to control Iraq’s oil fields—but for the carnage of the insurgency that followed; and feelings of Islamic solidarity with the Iraqi people were exacerbated by neo-Ottomanist pique at the fact that the violence was taking place in one of the empire’s former provinces.

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The resumption of the PKK insurgency in June 2004 further fuelled antagonism towards the United States. The PKK is a product of a number of different factors, not least the suppression of minority rights and the socio-economic underdevelopment of the predominantly Kurdish areas inside Turkey. However, in the popular imagination, the continuing death toll from PKK violence from 2004 onwards was largely attributable to the failure of the United States either to move against the PKK’s camps in the Qandil Mountains of northern Iraq or to allow the Turkish security forces to do so. As a result, although the AKP remained aware of the need to maintain a relationship with the United States, resentment at Washington’s failure to move against the PKK and the continuing violence in Iraq meant that there was no enthusiasm for ties being any closer than they needed to be. While the ongoing war in Iraq— which, however inaccurately, many AKP members regarded as part of a war against Islam8—and a growing sense that religious prejudices in the EU would prevent Turkey ever being granted accession, regardless of whether it fulfilled all the criteria for membership, reinforced the AKP’s sense of Turkey’s Islamic identity and accelerated a shift in the emphasis of foreign policy towards strengthening ties with rest of the Muslim world. Domestically, in fall 2007, the initial signs were that the AKP’s landslide victory in the election of 22 July 2007 had emboldened the party to attempt to push ahead with several of the policy initiatives that it had lacked the confidence to implement during its first term in power; particularly easing restrictions on Islamic education and lifting the ban on girls in headscarves attending university. The advocates of lifting the headscarf ban frequently argue that it is a violation of the human rights of women who are fulfilling what they regard as a religious obligation. Yet, even if one accepts that the Qur’an instructs women to cover their heads, there is no question that the Qur’an contains—an admittedly relatively small number of—explicit precepts related to other aspects of human behavior and the regulation of the community, including certain punishments for crimes and the status of both women and non-Muslims.9 It is possible to argue that there are times when circumstances mitigate against being able to apply all of the precepts of the Qur’an. However, when it is possible to apply them all, choosing to apply some and not others would appear to be simply illogical. While to argue that circumstances have changed and that explicit divine precepts cannot be applied in the modern world would be to risk historicizing the Qur’an—something which is anathema to the vast majority of Muslims. Ultimately, whether or not the AKP uses its landslide victory of July 2007 to amend Turkish legislation to include the precepts of the Qur’an—and indeed the future of the relationship between politics and religion in any Muslim country—is not a question of politics but of theology.


Notes

Introduction 1. There is, of course, no consensus on the precise meaning of democracy, much less democratic values. 2. Also sometimes known as the Constitution of Medina. The original document has not survived, but a number of different versions can be found in early Muslim sources. 3. The word caliph is derived from the Arabic khalifa, which means both “successor” and “deputy.” 4. In Arabic, Shari’a literally means the “path leading to the watering place.” 5. The word “Shia” is derived from the Arabic Shiat Ali, meaning “party of Ali.” While “Sunni” means those who follow the Sunnah, the exemplary words and practices of the Prophet Muhammad. The names are misleading, as Ali is revered by the Sunni—albeit not to the same extent as by the Shia—and the Shia also attach great importance to the Sunnah. 6. Starting with Ali through to Muhammad al-Mahdi, who received the imamate in 874 at the age of five. Muhammad was taken into hiding to protect him from his Sunni enemies. However, in around 940 he is regarded as having left the world materially but to have retained a spiritual presence through which he guides Shia divines in their interpretations of law and doctrine. Twelvers believe that he will eventually return to the world as the Mahdi, or “Messiah,” and usher in a brief golden age before the end of time. There have also been divisions within the Shia community. In the eighth century, during a dispute over the rightful heir to the sixth imam, Jafar al-Sadiq, the Twelvers backed the candidacy of a younger son, Musa al-Kazim. The supporters of his eldest son, Ismail, subsequently broke away to form what is now known as the Ismaili community. The Ismailis themselves then became divided between a minority, called Sabiyah or “Seveners,” who held that Ismail was the last imam, and the majority, who continued to recognize Ismail’s descendants as imams. There is also a Mahdi tradition in Sunni Islam, although many orthodox Sunni theologians have dismissed the concept on the grounds that it is not mentioned in the Qur’an. 7. The travelogue of the fourteenth-century Moroccan explorer Ibn Battutah (1304– 68/69), who visited almost every Muslim country during thirty years of traveling, reveals not only the cultural diversity of the Islamic world but also its many shared features. For example, Ibn Battutah’s training in Islamic jurisprudence enabled him to serve as a judge, each time under a different political authority, not only in his native Morocco but as far afield as Delhi and the Maldives. See Tim Mackintosh-Smith, ed., The Travels of Ibn Battutah (London: Picador, 2000).

220

NOTES

8. Starting in the eighth century, several schools of thought, most famously the Mutazilah, held that the Qur’an could not be the coeternal word of God because God is indivisible. Therefore, the Qur’an could only be created by God. After enjoying a brief popularity in the ninth century, the doctrine gradually lost favor and is now disavowed by Sunni Muslims. 9. One consequence is that translations can only be paraphrases, which lack the absolute sanctity of the original Arabic. Another is that most Muslims refuse to accept that the Qur’an contains textual variants or loanwords from other languages. For example, most non-Muslim scholars believe that the textual variants in the seventh- and eighth-century copies of the Qur’an found in 1972 during the restoration of the Great Mosque in Yemen suggest an evolving text. Such a claim is anathema to Muslims. 10. From the Arabic for “news” or “story.” 11. Al-Bukhari collected about 600,000 traditions but included in his collection only 7,275 which he deemed completely reliable. Muslim’s collection comprises approximately 9,200 traditions. The other four compilers—Abu Dawud (817–889), al-Tirmidhi (died 892), al-Nasai (830–915), and ibn Maja (824–886)—included hadith whose provenance was less clear-cut, and many of the traditions in their collections are graded into different degrees of likely authenticity. 12. Twelver Shia Muslims tend to follow the Jafari school of Islamic jurisprudence, named after the sixth imam, Jafar al-Sadiq (702–65). Like the main Sunni schools, the Jafari derive their Shari’a from the Qur’an and the sunnah of the Prophet, although there are occasional differences in interpretation. The Twelver doctrine of the infallibility of the imamate means that an authenticated pronouncement by an imam is also considered binding. 13. The Hanafi school has the most adherents, accounting for 40–45 percent of all Sunni Muslims, and is the dominant school in the Indian subcontinent, Egypt, Turkey, the Levant, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and parts of West Africa. Approximately 30 percent of Sunnis follow the Maliki school, which is mainly concentrated in north, central, and parts of West Africa. The Shafi school accounts for another 20–25 percent, mostly in southeast Asia. The remainder are followers of the Hanbali school, the majority of whom live in Arabia. 14. They include Wahhabism, which is based on the puritanical teachings of Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab (c.1703–92) and is today the official doctrine of Saudi Arabia. For a detailed exposition of Wahhabi doctrine, see http://www.Islam-qa.com. For an unapologetically antagonistic critique, see Hamid Algar, Wahhabism: A Critical Essay (New York: Islamic Publications International, 2002). 15. The precise balance between predestination and freewill in Sunni Islam remains problematic. The very name of the religion—in as much that Islam means submission— would appear to necessitate at least a modicum of free will. The degree to which human free will is circumscribed by divinely predestined fate was one of the most divisive issues in early Islamic theology and has arguably yet to be fully resolved. See William Montgomery Watt, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought (Oxford: Oneworld, 2002), 82–118. 16. Curiously, there are examples in the Shari’a where, faced with an apparent contradiction between the Qur’an and the hadith, Islamic jurists have favored the latter. For example, the Qur’an (Surah 24:2) clearly states that the punishment for zina, meaning “adultery” or “fornication,” as the same Arabic word is used for both, is one hundred lashes. However, there are numerous hadith that claim that the punishment is stoning to death (for example, al-Bukhari, Volume 2, Book 23, No. 413; Volume 4, Book 56, No. 829; Volume 8, Book 82, Nos. 803–6; and Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj, Book 17, Nos. 4194, 4196, 4198, 4199,

NOTES

17. 18.

19. 20. 21.

22.

23.

24. 25. 26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

221

4201, 4202, 4205, 4206, 4207 and 4209 http://www.usc.edu/dept/MSA/fundamentals/ hadithsunnah/bukhari/082.sbt.html-008.082.814). Classical jurists attempted to bridge this gap by claiming that the verse in the Qur’an refers to premarital sex (fornication) while the hadith refers to extramarital sex (adultery). Yet this would mean that the Qur’an made no mention of adultery, which is arguably a much more socially disruptive act than fornication. There are several hadith (for example, al-Bukhari, Volume 8, Book 82, Nos. 816–7) that maintain that the punishment of stoning for adultery was part of the original revelation of the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammad but was lost before the compilation of the ‘Uthman codex. If the claim is true, it would demolish one of the central tenets of the Muslim faith; namely, that the Qur’an is perfect and complete. For example, in 1970, Saudi Arabia supplemented its Shari’a courts with administrative tribunals to hear cases related to traffic regulations and business and commercial law. To give an extreme example, many Muslims in Africa and Arabia view female circumcision as a religious requirement. Yet the practice appears to date back at least to the time of the ancient Egyptians some two thousand years before the birth of the Prophet Muhammad and is not mentioned at all in the Qur’an. But see also Note 16 above. For example, al-Bukhari, Volume 9, Book 83, Nos. 19, 20, 36, and 47. However, there are many hadith that explicitly state that the punishment for apostasy is death: al-Bukhari, Volume 9, Book 83, No. 17; Volume 9, Book 83, No. 37; Volume 9, Book 84, No. 57; Volume 9, Book 84, No. 58; Volume 9, Book 84, No. 64; Volume 9, Book 89, No. 271. For example, the Mughal Prince Dara Shikoh (1615–69) argued that the Hindu Upanishads were a “storehouse of monotheism.” Mainstream Buddhism does not, of course, subscribe to the monotheistic belief in a creator God. This broadening of the definition of the People of the Book has not been accepted by most Muslims. Translation by N. J. Dawood, The Koran (London: Penguin, 1999). The identity of the Sabaeans (also sometimes spelled Sabeans or Sabians) has been the subject of considerable scholarly debate. They appear to have been members of a now-extinct monotheistic faith with a scripture and prophets similar, though not identical, to the Jews and Christians. Ibid. Ibid. For example, Al Qaeda leader Osama Bin Ladin (born 1957) used the verse to preface his 1998 World Islamic Front Statement, Holy War against Jews and Crusaders, in which he called on Muslims to kill “Americans and their allies, both civilians and military.” For example, Muhammad’s favorite wife Aisha quotes him as saying that for women the best form of jihad is to participate in the hajj (al-Bukhari, Volume 4, Book 52, Nos. 43, 127, and 128). The hadith collection of al-Bukhari devotes an entire book (Volume 4, Book 52) to jihad. Several hadiths name jihad as the next best deed for a Muslim after believing in God and his Apostle Muhammad: for example, al-Bukhari, Volume 1, Book 2, No. 25; Volume 1, Book 10, No. 505; Volume 2, Book 26, No. 594. “When you meet the unbelievers on the battlefield strike off their heads and, when you have laid them low, bind your captives firmly. Then grant them their freedoms or take a ransom from them, until War shall lay down her burdens. Thus shall you do.” (Surah 47:4); Dawood, The Koran. See also Surah 4:190: “If they keep away from you and cease their hostility and offer you peace, God bids you not to harm them.”

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NOTES

31. Muslims also often cite Surah 5:32 as containing an injunction against killing all innocents. In fact, although this is conceivable as an inference, the verse is a reference to an instruction to the Jews rather than a general rule for all believers. In an allusion to the story of Cain and Abel, God says: “That was why We laid it down for the Israelites that whoever killed a human being, except as punishment for murder or other villainy in the land, shall be regarded as having killed all mankind” (Surah 5:32); Dawood, The Koran. 32. For example, Muslim, Book 19, Nos. 4319 and 4320. 33. Apologists frequently claim that Islam foresees the eventual abolition of slavery. This may be so, but it is not stated anywhere in the Qur’an. 34. The Arabic word translated here as “fields” is probably more accurately rendered as “tillage” or “ploughed land.” 35. Surah 4:128 allows a woman wife to seek a decision to divorce if she fears ill-treatment or desertion by her husband, but does not explicitly permit her to dissolve the marriage unilaterally. 36. Surah 4:34 states that a husband should first admonish a disobedient wife. If that is unsuccessful, he should refuse to sleep with her, and if that too fails to persuade her to mend her ways, he should beat her. However, once the wife has pledged her obedience, the husband should not persist with the punishment. 37. The Arabic word jilbab, which is rendered here as “outer garments,” is sometimes misleadingly translated as “veil,” which suggests a covering merely for the face or head. A more accurate translation would probably be “cloak,” although the word is also used to describe a long gown covering the whole body. 38. These include their fathers, fathers-in-law, sons, stepsons, brothers, nephews, women servants and male servants “lacking in natural vigor” (Surah 24:31). 39. More conservative jurists cite a hadith (Abu Dawud, Book 32, No. 4092) in which Muhammad is said to have stated that once a woman reached puberty she should cover all but her hands and face. 40. Riba is also condemned in Surah 3:130, 4:161 and 30:39. 41. The question of whether it is possible for a Muslim to live in a predominantly non-Muslim society that is not governed by Islamic precepts was one that taxed early generations of Islamic jurists; with most, though not all, believing that it is not. However, the emphasis today is more on the specifics of the society concerned and whether or not it allows Muslims to practice their faith without restriction. 42. The Qur’an only refers to prayers three (Surah 11:114) or four (Surah 17:78–79) times a day. 43. A list of those eligible to receive zakat is given in Surah 9:60. 44. Those who are ill or on a journey are allowed to break the fast provided that they compensate by fasting for the same period of time at a later date (Surah 2:185). 45. The Arabic title of sheikh dates to pre-Islamic times and can also be used as a term of veneration or respect for someone with political, rather than religious, authority. 46. For example, al-Husayn ibn-Mansur al-Hallaj (born 857), who was executed in Baghdad in 922. 47. A succinct description of this accommodation between Sufism and orthodox theology can be found in Ira M. Lapidus, A History of Islamic Societies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 156–82. 48. An exception is probably the Bektashi tariqah, which is today mostly concentrated in the former territory of the Ottoman Empire. Named for Haji Bektash (died before 1295), an Iranian-born Sunni mystic who settled in Anatolia, the Bektashi are today probably closer to Shia ideology and include a large number of the Turkish heterodox minority known as Alevis.

NOTES

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49. Ulema or ulama is the plural of the Arabic word alim, meaning those who possess ilm, or “learning.” 50. The doctrine of imamology has meant that Shia clergy have traditionally not only enjoyed a higher status in their communities than their Sunni counterparts but have also tended to be more actively involved in politics.

Chapter 1 1. These reforms are discussed in greater detail in Chapter 3. 2. Although it is today most commonly associated with the racist theories of Nazi Germany, the idea that a person’s ethnic origins could be determined by measuring his or her skull was widespread in Europe at the time. Details of the Turkish “racial type” are given in Tarih I (Istanbul: Devlet Matbaası, 1931), 17. 3. The Great Hun Empire (204 BCE–216 CE), Western Hun Empire (48–216), the European Hun Empire (375–469), the White Hun/Hephalite Empire (420–552), the Göktürk Empire (552–745), the Avar Empire (565–835), the Khazar Empire (651–983), the Uygur state (745–1368), the Karahanid state (940–1040), the Ghaznavid state (962–1183), the Great Seljuk Empire (1040–1157), the Khwarazm-shah state (1097–1231), the Golden Horde (1236–1502), the Great Timur Empire (1368–1501), the Babur Empire (1526– 1858), the Ottoman Empire (1299–1922), and the Turkish Republic (1923–present). 4. A English translation of the inscriptions can be found in Kemal Silay, An Anthology of Turkish Literature (Bloomington: Indiana University Turkish Studies, 1996), 1–9. 5. The states of the Göktürks, Khazars, Uygur, Karahanids, Ghaznavids, Seljuks, Timurs, Ottomans, and the modern republic. The Avars appear to have spoken Mongolian and the Harzemshahs a form of Persian. The Golden Horde and the Babur Empire probably spoke a mixture of Mongolian and Turkish. The languages of the first four states claimed by the Turkish History Thesis are simply unknown. 6. For example, a research team headed by Professor Nihan Erginel Unaltuna of the Department of Genetics, Institute for Experimental Medical Research, Istanbul University, found close genetic similarities between mainland Turks and the population of the Greek island of Crete. Nihan Erginel Unaltuna et al., “Distribution of the M129V polymorphism of the prion protein gene in a Turkish population suggests a high risk for Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease,” European Journal of Human Genetics, 9, no. 12 (2001): 965– 68. Among others, see also N. Erginel-Unaltuna, K. Peoc’h, E. Komurcu, T.T. Acuner, H. Issever, J.L. Laplanche, “Cystic Fibrosis Mutation and Associated Haplotypes in Turkish Cystic Fibrosis Patients,” Human Biology, 73, no. 2 (2001): 191–203; A. Arnaiz-Villena, E. Gomez-Casado, J. Martinez-Laso, “Population Genetic Relationships between Mediterranean Populations Determined by HLA Allele Distribution and a Historic Perspective,” Tissue Antigens 60, no. 2 (2002): 111; F. Uyar, M. T. Dorak, G. Saruhan-Direskeneli, “Human Leukocyte Antigen-A, -B and –C Alleles and Human Leukocyte Antigen Haplotypes in Turkey: Relationship to Other Populations,” Tissue Antigens 64, no. 2 (2004): 180–87. For the common origins of the “Greeks” and “Turks” on the divided island of Cyprus, see Geoffrey Dean, Hatice Aksoy, Turgay Akalin, Lefkos Middleton, Kyriacos Kyriallis, “Multiple Sclerosis in the Turkish- and Greek-Speaking Communities of Cyprus: A United Nations (UNHCR) Bicommunal Project,” Journal of Neurological Sciences 145 (1997): 163–68. 7. Luigi Luca Cavalli-Sforza, Apolo Menozzi, and Alberto Piazza, The History and Geography of Human Genes (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994), 243.

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8. Some, of course, continued to speak a language other than Turkish as their mother tongue; most notably the Kurds, who today account for around 15 percent of the total population of Turkey and speak variants of a member of the Indo-European family of languages. 9. İlköğretim Sosyal Bilgiler 5 (Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Basımevi, 2004), 155. 10. For a fiercely robust defense of the argument that the conversion of the Turks to Islam was much bloodier than portrayed in official Turkish historiography, see Erdoğan Aydın, Nasıl Müsülman Olduk? (Istanbul: Cumhuriyet Kitap Külübü, 2000). 11. There is no agreement on when this took place. As noted above, there is no evidence to support—or refute—the claim that the Great Hun Empire was Turkic speaking. Chinese chronicles record that a subject people of the Juan-juan empire known as the T’uchüeh, which many Western scholars have assumed is a rendition of “Turk,” rebelled and seized power in 552 CE. Yet there is no suggestion that the T’u-chüeh formed a discrete linguistic or racial entity. 12. One of the manuscripts is in the Royal Library in Dresden and contains twelve stories, and the other is in the Vatican library, which includes only six of the stories. Both manuscripts are believed to date from the sixteenth century but have so many variants that they are unlikely to be based on a single original and may even be the products of separate oral traditions. 13. Geoffrey Lewis, The Book of Dede Korkut (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1982), 16–22. 14. For example, the text includes phrases such as: “in the days of the Oghuz, it was the custom”; Lewis, Dede Korkut, 68 15. Although horsemeat is not explicitly banned by the Qur’an, most Muslims regard it as unclean. However, the Qur’an does allow polygamy (Sura 4:3), while forbidding wine (Sura 2:219); an injunction which is usually interpreted as extending to all fermented drinks. 16. The word dede literally translates as “grandfather,” although it is frequently used in Turkish as an honorific title denoting wisdom or holiness. 17. Usually this trance is spontaneous—and sometimes the product of medical conditions such as epilepsy—although the presence of cannabis seeds in some shamanistic burial sites suggests that it may occasionally have been chemically induced. 18. In around 740, the head of Turkic-speaking Khazar state and most of its ruling class officially adopted Judaism. The reasons for this decision remain obscure. Unlike other conversions, there is no evidence of Jewish missionary activity or extensive personal contact between the Khazars and the Jews. 19. The bow, rather than the sword, was still the main weapon of the Turkic-speakers who invaded Anatolia in the late eleventh century. The Alexiad of Anna Comnena (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969), 479–80. 20. The Umayyad dynasty was established by Muawiya, who seized the caliphate after killing Ali, the fourth caliph and Muhammad’s cousin, in 661. In 750 the Umayyads were overthrown by the Abbasids. In the mid-eleventh century, the Seljuks replaced the Abbasids as the most powerful military force in the Muslim world, but the caliphate remained in Baghdad until 1258, when the city was sacked by the Mongols. 21. Not all of the movement was westward. In the late tenth century, other Turkic-speaking converts to Islam began to raid south into India in the first stage of a process that eventually resulted in the entire subcontinent coming under Muslim control. 22. The capital was moved several times, but during the period from the late eleventh century through to the end of the twelfth century, when the Seljuk Empire was at its peak, the capital was in Esfahan.

NOTES

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23. In the Qur’an the term sultan is used to denote moral or spiritual authority, although it later assumed political connotations. 24. The Byzantines described themselves as Romanoi, the Greek for “Romans,” rather than Byzantines, Greeks, or Hellenes. As a result, contemporary Muslims referred to both the Byzantines and their territory as “Rum.” The word is still used in modern Turkey to describe both Greek Orthodox Turkish citizens and, more frequently, Greek Cypriots. 25. In 451, at the Council of Chalcedon (the modern Istanbul suburb of Kadıköy), church leaders from the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches adopted a decree declaring that Jesus was duophysite, with both a human and a divine nature. Other churches (including the Armenian Apostolic, Coptic Orthodox and Syrian Orthodox) believe that he only had a single divine nature and was thus monophysite. 26. Quoted in Claude Cahen, The Formation of Turkey (Harlow: Pearson Education, 2001), 131. 27. Mevlana is the Turkish rendition of the Persian Mawlana, meaning “Our Master,” the title by which Rumi was known to his followers. See Reynold A. Nicholson, Rumi: Poet and Mystic (Oxford: Oneworld, 1995), 19. 28. Also sometimes translated as Mathnawi or Mesnevi, its full name of Masnavi-i Ma’navi means “Rhyming Couplets of Deep Spiritual Meaning.” 29. The late M. Fuad Köprülü argued that this adherence to exoteric Islam was an attempt to avoid official presecution and disguise the true nature of Rumi’s philosophy, which he described as essentially pantheistic Islam. M. Fuad Köprülü, Islam in Anatolia after the Turkish Invasion (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1993), 19. However, modern members of the Mevlevi order claim that Rumi was working within an exclusively Islamic tradition, a link in a silsilah stretching back to the Prophet Muhammad. Şefik Can, Fundamentals of Rumi’s Thought (Somerset, NJ: The Light, 2004), 295–304. 30. The literal translation of baba is “father,” although, like dede, it is also used as an honorific title. 31. The word “horde,” the collective noun by which the Mongol forces are usually known in English, is derived from the Turkic-Mongol ordu, meaning “army.” 32. In Turkish, the state founded by Osman is known as Osmanlı. The English term Ottoman is derived from ‘Uthman, the Arabic form of his name. 33. For example, Halil İnalcık, Essays in Ottoman History (Istanbul: Eren Yayıncılık), 230. 34. The Arabic term ghazi originally referred to those who fought alongside the Prophet Muhammad, although it subsequently became associated with those who participated in battles to expand Muslim territory. 35. The Kemalist historian Mehmet Fuad Köprülü notes that it was only when they had moved into towns and come under the influence of the ulema—such as when they were no longer actively engaged in frontier duties—that the warlords of the Seljuk marches began to refer to themselves as ghazis. M. Fuad Köprülü, The Origins of the Ottoman Empire (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992), 92–93. 36. They even consciously imitated the Christians. For example, almost all of the coinage of the early Turkic states in Anatolia is based on Christian, usually Byzantine, models; to the point where the Turkic-speaking Danishmend dynasty, which established an independent principality in eastern Anatolia from 1071 to 1178, minted coins bearing the image of Jesus, the Christian Messiah. John Kingsley Birge, The Bektashi Order of Dervishes (London: Luzac, 1965), 28. 37. The Seljuks even employed Frankish mercenaries to assist with the suppression of the Baba Ishaq revolt. Cahen, The Formation of Turkey, 70. 38. Modern Turkish historiography dates the foundation of the Ottoman Empire to 1299, when Osman is said to have declared independence from the suzerainty of the remnants

226

39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44.

45.

46.

47.

48.

49.

50.

51. 52. 53. 54.

55. 56.

NOTES

of the Mongol empire. Sosyal Bilgiler 6, 154. In fact, this is impossible to verify from contemporary sources. In the absence of any firm evidence, any date for the foundation of the Ottoman dynasty has to be an approximation. Herbert A. Gibbons, The Foundation of the Ottoman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1916). These lectures were later updated and published as Mehmet Fuad Köprülü, The Origins of the Ottoman Empire (Albany: State University of New York, 1992). Paul Wittek, The Rise of the Ottoman Empire (London: The Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, 1938), 14. Sosyal Bilgiler 6, 154–55. A small number of Turkish scholars have attempted to merge the ethnic and ghazi theses. For example, Halil İnalcık, “The Question of the Emergence of the Ottoman State,” International Journal of Turkish Studies 2 (1980): 71–79. The transliterated text and English translation of the Bursa inscription are given in Heath Lowry, The Nature of the Early Ottoman State (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003), 145–6. An English translation and critical edition of Ahmedi’s entire text is given in Kemal Silay, “Ahmedi’s History of the Ottoman Dynasty,” Journal of Turkish Studies 16 (1992): 129–200. See Feridun Emecen, “Gazaya Dair: XIV. Yüzyıl Kaynakları Arasında Bir Gezinti,” in Hakkı Dursun Yıldız’a Armağan, ed. Hakkı Dursun Yıldız (Istanbul: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 1995), 191–7. See the Akıncı Defter (Register of the Akıncıs), which is housed in the National Library in Sofia. Boris Nedkov, Osmano-turska diplomatika i paleografiia, vol. 2 (Sofia, 1972), 175–7. Askeri means “military,” while reaya can be translated as “subjects.” Until the mid-sixteenth century, reaya was used to describe both Muslims and non-Muslims, although it subsequently became associated with the non-Muslim subjects of the sultan. See, for example, Heath Lowry’s study of the Ottoman tax registers for the island of Limnos. Heath W. Lowry, Fifteenth Century Ottoman Realities: Christian Peasant Life on the Aegean Island of Limnos (Istanbul: Eren, 2002). Köprülü argued that millions of Turkic speakers migrated into Anatolia during this period. Not only is there no evidence for this, but, given the nature and demands of the nomadic lifestyle, it is difficult to see how the land could have sustained such a sudden, massive influx. Ulrich Schlemmer (ed.), Johannes Schiltberger: Als Sklave im Osmanischen Reich und bei den Tataren, 1394–1427 (Stuttgart, 1983), 118. Lowry, The Nature of the Early Ottoman State, 137. This legend is detailed in, and has given its name to, a recent history of the Ottomans. See Caroline Finkel, Osman’s Dream (London: John Murray, 2005), 2. For example, in Salih Muslim, Book 041, Nos. 6924 and 6979, and Sunan Abu-Dawud, Book 37, Nos. 4281–3, the fall of the city is supposed to presage the imminent appearance of the Dajjal, the Islamic equivalent of the Antichrist. The largest of these mosques can still be seen in the modern Istanbul neighborhood known as Fatih, or “Conqueror,” in his honor. This was also the explanation accepted by Ottoman jurists in the sixteenth century when first Selim I (reigned 1512–20) and then Süleyman I (reigned 1520–66) tried to seize several of these churches. However, their successors were less inclined to honor Mehmet II’s promises. By the eighteenth century, only three of the churches remained

NOTES

57.

58.

59.

60.

61. 62.

63. 64.

65. 66. 67. 68. 69.

227

in Greek Orthodox hands. Steven Runciman, The Fall of Constantinople (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 199–204. The Turkish word is derived from the Arabic millat, which is often translated as “community of faith,” although in the Qur’an it is more commonly used to describe the monotheistic faith of the Abrahamic tradition. For example, Sura 16, Verse 123; Sura 2, Verse 135; Sura 3, Verse 95; Sura 4, Verse 125. Separate Roman Catholic and Protestant millets were added in 1830 and 1847, respectively, shortly before the system became effectively moribund following the HattıHümayun Imperial Rescript of 1856, which introduced the principle of legal equality for all Ottoman subjects regardless of religious persuasion. After centuries of growing estrangement, the Christian Church had finally split into Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox branches in 1054. During the early fifteenth century, the Byzantines had frequently petitioned their coreligionists in Western Europe for military support against the Ottomans. The price that was invariably demanded was the reunification of the Church under the leadership of the Papacy. During the final years of the Byzantine Empire, Scholarios had been the leader of the anti-unionist faction, arguing that Orthodoxy and Catholicism were doctrinally incompatible. There seems little doubt that his appointment by Mehmet II as Greek Orthodox Patriarch was designed to preserve the schism between Orthodoxy and Catholicism and ensure the Patriarchate’s dependence on the Ottoman state. Both Constantinople patriarchates also had regional rivals: for the Armenians the patriarchates in Ejmiadzin and Cilicia; for the Orthodox, the patriarchates in Antioch, Jerusalem and Alexandria. Under Ottoman rule all lost influence relative to the Constantinople patriarchates. Heath Lowry, The Nature of the Early Ottoman State, 99. However, the few communities which converted en masse maintained elements of their language and culture for centuries, particularly if they were geographically isolated. For example, in the Of valley on Turkey’s eastern Black Sea coast the older generation of Muslims still speak a dialect of Pontic Greek. While in the next valley many of the Muslim villages speak a dialect of Armenian. Author interviews in the Black Sea region, April 2001. Later Safavid court historians claimed that the order had always been Shia and that Safi od-Din was a sayyid or descendant of Ali, the fourth caliph. Neither claim was true. The honorific shah is a pre-Islamic Iranian title which had not been used for nine hundred years before it was resurrected and co-opted by Ismail in 1501 to try to associate his new regime with the glory of ancient Iran. Although the most serious revolts occurred in the period 1510–30, some kızılbaşı communities remained restive into the seventeenth century. Sunni Turks sometimes still use the term kızılbaşı to describe Alevis, usually in a derogatory fashion. Caroline Finkel, Osman’s Dream, 104–5. Ira M. Lapidus, A History of Islamic Societies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 241–3. Since the 1960s, fears of separatism have meant that questions related to minorities have been excluded from state censuses in Turkey. Previously the Alevis were simply grouped together with Sunni Muslims. Fuat Dündar, Türkiye Nüfus Sayımlarında Azınlıklar (Istanbul: Doz Yayınları, 1999), 64–5. The second largest community of former kızılbaşı is in Syria, where what are generally known in English as Alawites account for around 25 percent of the total population of approximately 18.5 million. A comparative study can be found in Marianne Aringberg-Laanatza, “Alevis in Turkey—Alawites

228

70. 71.

72.

73. 74.

75.

76.

77.

78.

79.

80.

NOTES

in Syria: Similarities and Differences” in Alevi Identity: Cultural, Religious and Social Perspectives, ed. Tord Olsson, Elisabeth Özdalga, and Catharina Raudvere (Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute in Istanbul, 1998), 151–65. An overview of the numerous attempts to define Alevism can be found in Gloria L. Clarke, The World of the Alevis (New York: AVC Publications, 1999), 9–35. In the Mevlevi sema, the dancers, who are almost always men, remain in the same place rotating on their own axes. The pluralism of the Alevi tradition was vividly illustrated at a conference on 8–9 November 2003, organized by the Cem Foundation, one of the two main Alevi organizations in Turkey, and bringing together regional representatives from across the country. Towards the end of the first morning, a number of Alevis took to the stage to perform the sema. When the sema started, some of the watching regional representatives started clapping along in time to the music, prompting others to shout: “Be quiet! Stop clapping! This is a prayer!” Author’s observation, Istanbul, 8 November 2003. This shamanistic legacy has led some Alevis to claim that they are more purely “Turkish” than Sunni Turks. However, a substantial proportion of Alevis speak one of the three dialects of Kurdish as their mother tongue, particularly the Zaza dialect; which suggests considerable cultural interaction—and probably intermarriage—between the new arrivals and the indigenous population. Even today it is still not unusual for Sunni parents to object to one of their children marrying an Alevi, and vice versa. Author observations, 1989–2007. Modern Turkish Sufis claim that Haji Bektash was a Sunni mystic whose message has been distorted by the order which now bears his name. Author interview with a leading member of the Naqshbandi tariqah, Istanbul, October 2004. There is no reliable information about Haji Bektash’s life, although he is generally agreed to have been born in Khorasan in modern Iran during the first half of the thirteenth century and migrated into Anatolia with Turkic nomads. The order was founded by his followers. Haji Bektash is believed to be buried in the Anatolian town to which he has given his name, Hacıbektaş in the central Anatolian province of Nevşehir. His tomb is a place of pilgrimage for Bektashis and Alevis. Since 1964 it has been the site of a threeday festival in his honor held on 16–18 August each year. Suraiya Faroqhi, “Conflict, Accommodation and Long-Term Survival: The Bektashi Order and the Ottoman State (Sixteenth-Seventeenth Centuries),” in Bektachiyya: Études sur l’ordre mystique des Bektachis et les groupes relevant de Hadji Bektach, ed. Aleandre Popov and Gilles Veinstein (Istanbul, Isis Publications, 1995), 174–80. The figure is based on Ottoman surveys conducted in 1520–35, the accuracy of which it is impossible to verify. Bahaeddin Yediyıldız, “Ottoman Society,” in History of The Ottoman State, Society and Civilisation Vol. 1, ed. Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu (Istanbul: Research Centre for Islamic History, Art and Culture, 2001), 518–19. The practice of supplementing the Shari’a was common in other Islamic states. The word örf î literally means “customary,” although in reality the system was one of statute law. For example, in the sixteenth century, the severity of punishments under örf î law for crimes such as rape, adultery, and certain forms of theft and homicide clearly contravened the Shari’a. Mehmet Âkif Aydın, “The Ottoman Legal System,” in History of The Ottoman State, Society and Civilisation Vol. 1, 443–44. The first capitulation treaty was signed with France in 1536. By the end of the eighteenth century, virtually all the European powers had obtained capitulation treaties. Initially, the capitulations were probably intended merely to reduce the workload of the Ottoman courts. However, the decline in Ottoman power enabled the European powers

NOTES

81.

82.

83. 84. 85. 86. 87.

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to use the treaties to provide their citizens with a measure of de facto legal immunity against the Ottoman judicial system. Their descendants include several prominent members of modern Turkey’s business and academic communities. However, in 2007 widespread anti-Semitism and the danger posed by militant Islamists meant that it was impossible to assess how many, if any, of these secret Jews had survived. The Ottomans had first laid siege to Vienna in 1529 during the reign of Süleyman I. At the time, the failure to capture the city was regarded by both the Ottomans and their enemies as merely a temporary setback. Although its full importance did not become clear until several years later, the Ottoman defeat in 1683 proved more decisive, effectively marking the end of the Ottoman Empire as an expansionist power. Caroline Finkel, Osman’s Dream, 213. Abu Dawud, Book 40, No. 4590. Niyazi Berkes, The Development of Secularism in Turkey (London: Hurst and Company, 1998), 40. The khanate’s independence was short-lived. In 1783, it was annexed by Russia. Russia later claimed that the treaty gave it the right of protection over all Orthodox Christians in the Ottoman Empire. This is not true. Article 14 of the treaty gave Russia the right to build a church in the Galata neighborhood of Constantinople. Article 7 allowed the Russian government to represent the interests of the church; a right which Russia subsequently disingenuously interpreted as extending to all Orthodox Christians in the Ottoman Empire. In fact, Article 7 explicitly states it was the Ottoman state which was responsible for protecting the Christians of the empire. Alan Palmer, The Decline and Fall of the Ottoman Empire (London: John Murray, 1993), 45–47.

Chapter 2 1. The British subsequently withdrew and returned Egypt to nominal Ottoman control, albeit with considerable autonomy. 2. Revolts in Serbia had finally resulted in it being granted autonomy in 1830, although it did not become fully independent until 1878. 3. It has also been argued that the ulema had come increasingly under the influence of the hard-line orthodox teachings of the Khalidi branch of the Naqshbandi tariqah. Butrus Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam and the Ottoman Empire in the 19th century (1826– 1876) (Istanbul: Isis Press, 2001), 65–68. 4. Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam and the Ottoman Empire, 184. 5. The name comes from the gate, known in Turkish as Babıali, meaning “High Gate” or “Gate of the Eminent,” which led to the block of buildings in Constantinople housing the main government departments. 6. Members of the Ottoman elite began to dress like Europeans as early as what is now known as the Tulip Era (1718–30), after the predilection of Sultan Ahmed III (reigned 1703–30) for tulips. 7. Ironically, over the next century the fez—which is of ancient Greek origin—became so closely associated with Islam in the minds of Turkish Muslims that Mustafa Kemal’s decision to outlaw it in 1925 was widely condemned as an assault on religion. See Chapter 3. 8. Uriel Heyd, “The Ottoman Ulema and Westernization in the Time of Selim III and Mahmud II,” in Studies in Islamic History and Civilization, ed. Uriel Heyd (Jerusalem: Publications of the Hebrew University, 1961), 96.

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9. The title of pasha, which is believed to be derived either from the Persian padshah meaning “king” or “emperor,” or the Turkish baş ağa, meaning “head lord” or “tribal chief,” was bestowed by the sultan as an honorific on military commanders or highranking state officials. Officially, the title fell into disuse following the foundation of the Turkish Republic in 1923. In practice, it is still commonly used as an honorific when addressing or referring to serving or retired generals. 10. An English translation of the Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi can be found at http://www.bilkent .edu.tr/~genckaya/documents1.html 11. Some Turkish secularists have even—misleadingly—seen it as the first step towards a secular state. For example, Niyazi Berkes, The Development of Secularism in Turkey (London: Hurst and Co., 1998), 144. 12. They were less enthusiastic about applying the same principle to their own religious minorities. For example, Catholics in Britain received full civic and political rights in 1829, and Jews only in 1858. 13. By 1839, not only was Muhammed Ali effectively autonomous but his army, under his son Ibrahim Pasha (1789–1848), had extended the territory under Egyptian control deep into what is now Syria before being restrained by a military intervention by the European powers in 1840. 14. The terms were set out in the 1840 Treaty of London and backed up by British and Austrian military action, including a blockade of the Nile delta. 15. This has been erroneously interpreted by some as advocating the legal equality of all of the Ottoman’s sultans. After all, classical Islamic jurisprudence provides for the protection of the lives, honor, and property of Peoples of the Book and women without regarding either as being legally equal with Muslim men. 16. Bernard Lewis, The Emergence of Modern Turkey (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 110. 17. In 1850, the Ottoman Empire had become caught in a tug-of-war between the governments of France and Russia—each of which was anxious to boost its public support by courting domestic religious sentiments—over ecclesiastical control over the Christian Holy Places in Palestine; with France arguing that it should rest with Catholic priests and Russia maintaining that it should be given to Greek Orthodox monks. In February 1853, Tsar Nicholas I of Russia raised the stakes by demanding that Sultan Abdülmecit also explicitly acknowledge Russia’s right to protect Orthodox Christians throughout the Ottoman Empire; a right that Russia had frequently, and erroneously, claimed had already been effectively granted by the 1774 Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca. When Abdülmecit refused, Russia invaded Moldavia and Walachia. The result was the Crimean War, which ended in Russia’s defeat by an alliance between France, Britain, and the Ottoman Empire. 18. An English translation of the Hatt-i Hümayun can be found at http://www.bilkent.edu .tr/~genckaya/documents1.html 19. Reşit Pasha’s memorandum is quoted in Ahmet Cevdet Pasha, Tezakir (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 1953), 76–82. 20. Roderic H. Davison, Reform in the Ottoman Empire 1856–1876 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1963), 101–102. 21. There is evidence to suggest that a handful of Christians served in mixed Cossack regiments in the 1860s, although the total number of non-Muslims in the army was so small as to be negligible. When the issue was raised in the first Ottoman parliaments of 1877 and 1878, there was more enthusiasm amongst the Muslim deputies than their nonMuslim counterparts, most of whom remained firmly opposed to the idea. Roderic H. Davison, Reform in the Ottoman Empire 1856–1876, 95–96.

NOTES

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22. Ebül’ulâ Mardin, Medenî Hukuk Cephesinden Cevdet Paşa, 1822–1985 (Istanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Yayınları, 1946), 63. 23. Niyazi Berkes, The Development of Secularism in Turkey (London: Hurst and Co., 1998), 168. 24. With the exception of the Caucasus, where they were used in agriculture, the majority of slaves in the Ottoman Empire were employed domestically. However, there is no evidence to support the casual acceptance by many historians of the “humane” nature of Ottoman slavery. What little we know about the treatment of Ottoman slaves—including the castration of boys prior to their sale in slave markets as eunuchs and the widespread sexual abuse of young girls as concubines—appears to indicate otherwise. For a detailed discussion of the use of Circassian slaves in agriculture, see Ehud R. Toledano, Slavery and Abolition in the Ottoman Middle East (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1998), 81–111. 25. The Register of the Biographies of the Imperial African Eunuchs, dated 6 May 1903. Ehud R. Toledano, Slavery and Abolition in the Ottoman Middle East, 42. 26. As early as the sixteenth century, Sheikhulislam Ebussuud Effendi had tried unsuccessfully to legalize a moderate rate of interest, but the overwhelming majority of the ulema continued to argue that all forms of usury were banned by the Qur’an. Edhem Eldem, A History of the Ottoman Bank (Istanbul: Ottoman Bank Historical Research Center, 1999), 18. 27. Şevket Pamuk, The Ottoman Empire and European Capitalism 1820–1913 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 57. 28. Edhem Eldem, A History of the Ottoman Bank, 11–53. 29. Such as the Italian Carbonari. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962), 21–22. 30. For example, Kemal cited Sura 3, Verse 159, in which the Prophet Muhammad is instructed not to ignore the views of his companions in battle. Charles Kurzman (ed.), Modernist Islam 1840–1940: A Sourcebook (Oxford: Oxford University Press: 2002), 144–48. 31. Sura 3, Verse 26. 32. In 1870, Ali Suavi wrote an article in the journal Ulûm Gazetesi which was published by the Turkish exile community in Paris in which he argued: “Democracy is a nightingale that can sing loudly only in the rose garden of good morality.” Kurzman, Modernist Islam 1840–1940: A Sourcebook, 139. 33. In Britain, a campaign of public speeches by the former Liberal Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone (1809–98) denouncing the British government’s alleged moral complicity in what he described as the Bulgarian Atrocities led to him being reelected to parliament and eventually being reappointed as prime minister. Curiously, some Turkish historians have chosen to attribute Gladstone’s anti-Ottoman campaign to the debt default (for example, Berkes, The Development of Secularism in Turkey, 224). This is not true. 34. Berkes, The Development of Secularism in Turkey, 234. 35. Article 11. Tuncer Özyavuz, Osmanlı Türk Anayasaları (Istanbul: Aklım Yayinevi, 1997), 303. A rough English translation of the 1876 Constitution can be found at http:// www.bilkent.edu.tr/~genckaya/documents1.html 36. Mithat Pasha was later allowed to return to Constantinople, only to be murdered in prison on Abdülhamit’s orders in 1884. 37. Erik J. Zürcher, Turkey: A Modern History (London: I.B.Tauris, 1994), 80. 38. Abdülhamit’s pan-Islamism alarmed the European colonial powers, particularly the British, who in India ruled over three times as many Muslims as there were in the entire

232

39. 40.

41.

42.

43. 44.

45. 46. 47.

48. 49.

50. 51. 52.

53.

54.

55.

NOTES

Ottoman Empire. Perhaps not surprisingly, during the late nineteenth century the British actively explored the possibility of promoting an alternative to Abdülhamit as caliph, such as the sharif of Mecca, the steward of the Holy Places of the Hijaz. Zurcher, 85 Also known in the West as the “howling dervishes,” the Rifāīyah became famous for self-mortification such as the piercing of the skin with sharp objects. Only a handful of Rifāīyah survive today, although in the late nineteenth century the order had thirtyfive dervish lodges in Constantinople alone. Hür Mahmut Yücer, Osmanlı Toplumunda Tasavvuf (Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 2003), 392. Particularly against British-backed notions of an Arab caliphate (see earlier). Şerif Mardin, Religion and Social Change in Modern Turkey (Albany: State University of New York, 1989), 127. Although it only ever established a relatively minor presence in Anatolia or the Balkans, today the Shādhilīyah remains the most popular Sufi order across most of North Africa. Selim Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains: Ideology and the Legitimization of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876–1909 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1999), 65. Nearly 9,100 books were published in the period 1876–1908, of which around 1,300 were on religious subjects. This compares with approximately 2,470 books, of which 682 were religious titles, published in 1840–76. Orhan Koloğlu, Avrupa Kıskacında Abdülhamit (Istanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 1998), 406. Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, “Ottoman Educational and Scientific Institutions,” in History of The Ottoman State, Society and Civilisation Vol. 2 (Istanbul: IRCICA, 2002), 468–9. M. Hakan Yavuz, Islamic Political Identity in Turkey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 44. The Yezidi (also sometimes spelled Yazidi) religion appears to be a syncretic combination of several Middle Eastern religions, including Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism, Judaism, Nestorian Christianity, and Sufi Islam. Most Yezidis are ethnic Kurds and practice endogamy. An undeserved reputation for devil worship has made them one of the most persecuted religious minorities in the region. Fewer than 500,000 Yezidis, perhaps many less, survive today, mostly in northern Iraq. John S. Guest, Survival Among the Kurds: A History of the Yezidis (London: Kegan Paul International, 1993), 124–45. For example, in 1898, Ottoman officials in Yemen sent a report to the Imperial Palace stating that: “The program of elementary schools in the region should be of a nature to reinforce the Hanafi school of law and instill the feeling of obedience towards the sultan.” Quoted in Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains, 77. Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains, 97. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, 27. Also known as the Thirty Day’s War, the conflict ended in defeat for Greece. It was the only occasion in a century of war between the two sides that the Greeks were forced to cede territory, albeit only twenty villages. Although the Druze religion developed out of Ismaili Shia Islam, it appears to have incorporated elements from Judaism, Christianity, Gnosticism, and Neoplatonism. Most Muslims regard the Druze as heretics or infidels. The precise number of Armenians in Anatolia is disputed, but there seems little doubt that, although they formed the majority in some districts, they were always a minority on a provincial level. The name is taken from the organization’s newspaper Hunchak, meaning “bell,” which members took as representing awakening, enlightenment, and freedom.

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56. Three Dashnaks were killed and six wounded. Four policemen guarding the bank were killed in the initial assault and two bank employees died in the firefight. No reliable figures are available for the casualties among the Ottoman security forces. 57. Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains, 87–88. 58. French missionaries had begun proselytizing in Lebanon as early as the seventeenth century, although it was only in the 1820s that they were joined by British and American missionaries. 59. Telegram No. 177, Mehmet Cevat Bey, Governor of Ankara, to the Imperial Secretariat on 10 May 1902. Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains, 80. 60. Resentment at the Greek monopoly of the higher echelons of the Orthodox hierarchy also helped fuel the rise of nationalism in the Balkans, particularly in Bulgaria, which was anxious to establish its own ecclesiastical independence from the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate. 61. There are no reliable figures for the total number of missionary schools. The 1897 statistical yearbook of the Ottoman Empire puts the number of missionary schools at 383, of which 131 were run by Americans, 127 by the French, and 60 by the British. The First Statistical Yearbook of the Ottoman Empire (Ankara: State Institute of Statistics, 1997), 98. In 1900, there were reported to be 331 U.S.–run missionary schools, rising to 450 in 1913. Uygur Kocabaşoğlu, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğunda 19. Yüzyılda Amerikan Yüksek Okulları,” in Bahri Savcı’ya Armağan (Ankara: Mülkiyeliler Birliği Vakfı Yayınları, 1988), 305–6. 62. For example, in a letter to his sister, Ahmet Rıza attacked Islam for its attitude towards women before declaring: “Keep this religion away from me.” M. Şükrü Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 200. 63. Hadd-ı Te’dib, 65–66, “Bir Mükaleme,” Şark ve Garb, No 1. (Paris: March, 1896), 24. 64. Charles Kurzman (ed.), Modernist Islam 1840–1940: A Sourcebook (Oxford: Oxford University Press: 2002), 172. 65. “Mezheb-i Bahaullah Din-i Ümem”, İctihad, No. 144, 315–6. 66. Nor is there any indication that the non-Muslims would have welcomed such an initiative. The Armenian organizations in particular were almost exclusively concerned with securing greater autonomy for the Ottoman Armenians, particularly in the six provinces in eastern Anatolia with large Armenian populations. In contrast, most of the Young Turks advocated a centralized, unitary state. 67. “Osmanlı İttihadı,” Meşveret, No. 5, February 1, 1896. 68. Tunalı Hilmi, Bir Geçmişin Yadigarı: Onuncu Hutbe (Geneva, 1901). 69. İbrahim Temo to İshak Sükûti, 6 December 1899. 70. Yusuf Akçura was born in Simbirsk, the modern Ulyanovsk, in Russia. His father died when he was a small child and his mother moved to Constantinople, where Akçura trained to be an officer at the Ottoman War Academy. In 1897 he was expelled and sent into exile on suspicion of sedition. In Üç Tarz-ı Siyaset, Yusuf Akçura argued there were three alternative foundations for the state: a supraethnic, suprareligious Ottomanism; Islam; and ethnic Turkish nationalism. An English translation of Üç Tarz-ı Siyaset by David Thomas is available at vlib.iue.it/carrie/texts/carrie_books/paksoy-2/cam9.html 71. Many had been influenced by the writings of the French sociologist Gustave Le Bon (1841–1931), who argued that democracy ran counter to “the natural laws of evolution.” Gustave Le Bon, “The Laws of Evolution, the Democratic Ideal and the Social Solidarity,” in The Psychology of Socialism 5 (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1899), 277–301. 72. There is evidence to suggest that elements in the Young Turk movement did attempt to exploit popular discontent during the popular unrest that swept Anatolia in 1905–7.

234

73.

74. 75.

76.

77. 78.

79.

80.

81.

82.

83. 84. 85.

86. 87.

NOTES

However, such attempts focused on exploiting practical grievances (such as conscription and taxation) rather than mass mobilization on ideological grounds. For example, Mustafa Kemal, the founder of the Turkish republic, was a leading member of a group called Vatan ve Hürriyet, or “Fatherland and Freedom.” However, there is no indication that the organization had any impact. Its members were all absorbed into the İTC long before the latter seized power in 1908. By 1908 the Salonica branch of the İTC had 505 members, of whom 319 were army officers and 186 civilians. Ryan Gingeras, “A Break in the Storm: Reconsidering Sectarian Violence in Ottoman Macedonia during the Young Turk Revolution,” MIT Electronic Journal of Middle East Studies 3 (2003): 27–35. web.mit.edu/cis/www/mitejmes Niyazi had been born in Resen in 1873 and retired there after the 1909 Islamist uprising in Constantinople. He rejoined the army during the 1912–13 Balkan Wars and was assassinated by Albanian nationalists in 1913. The Times (London) recorded joint celebrations as far apart as Salonica, Skopje, Beirut, and Jerusalem. The Times, 27 July 1908; 11 August 1908; and 14 August 1908. Ahmet Rıza ran successfully as a candidate for the İTC in the elections of fall 1908 and was even appointed President of the Chamber of Deputies. But he enjoyed more status than power and was excluded from the increasingly narrow circle of individuals who effectively ruled the empire until its demise. Although most Panhellenes advocated the territorial expansion of the Kingdom of Greece, others opposed too close an identification with political authority and advocated a Panhellenic unity that transcended state boundaries through the cultural “Hellenization” of all Greek communities. The comment has proved impossible to verify and may be apocryphal. But it has been frequently quoted and undoubtedly captures the attitude of many Ottoman nonMuslims. Feroz Ahmed, “Unionist Relations with the Greek, Armenian, and Jewish Communities of the Ottoman Empire, 1908–1914,” in Benjamin Braude and Bernard Lewis (eds.), Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1982), 409. Ironically, one of the few concrete demands made by the İTC after Abdülhamit’s announcement of the restoration of the constitution was the replacement of the Grand Vizier Küçük Mehmet Sait Pasha (1830–1914) with Mehmet Kamil Pasha, who was believed to be more amenable to reform. The İMC was not officially inaugurated until 3 April 1909, with a prayer service in the mosque of Aya Sofya, the former Byzantine church of Saint Sophia. M. E. Düzdağ, İkinci Meşrutiyetin ilk ayları ve 31 Mart olayı için bir yakın tarih belgesi Volkan gazetesi, 11 Aralık 1908–20 Nisan 1909: tam ve aynen metin nesri (Istanbul: İz Yayıncılık, 1992), 455–66. See Sura 3: 110 and Sura 42:38. M. Naim Turfan, Rise of the Young Turks, Politics, the Military and Ottoman Collapse (London: I. B. Tauris, 2000), 158. At the time, the Ottoman Empire was using the Julian calendar, which was thirteen days behind the Gregorian calendar. As a result, Turkish sources usually refer to the insurrection as the 31 Mart Vak’ası, or “incident of 31 March.” The rising began with a mutiny on the night of 12–13 April by soldiers from the Third Army who had recently arrived in Constantinople and whose pay was in arrears. Many of the madrasa students had been alarmed by rumors that the İTC was planning to make them liable to conscription; something from which they had previously been exempt.

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88. Eric J. Zürcher, “The Ides of April: A Fundamentalist Uprising in Istanbul in 1909?” in State and Islam, ed. C. van Dijk and A.H. de Groot (Leiden: Research School CNWS, 1996) 69. 89. Feroz Ahmed, op. cit., 410. 90. For example, Yılmaz Öztuna, “The Political Milieu of the Armenian Question” in The Armenians in the Late Ottoman Period, Türkkaya Ataöv (Ankara: The Grand National Assembly of Turkey, 2001), 59. 91. Even official Turkish sources admit to a huge disparity in casualties, estimating that 17,000 Armenians died compared with just 1,850 Muslims. Öztuna, op. cit., 59. 92. Some of the many eyewitness accounts are included in Donald E. Miller and Lorna Touryan Miller, Survivors: An Oral History of the Armenian Genocide (Berkley: University of California Press, 1999), 63–66. 93. Abdülhamit returned to Constantinople in 1912, shortly before Salonica seceded from the Ottoman Empire. But he made no attempt to regain his throne. He died in February 1918. 94. Faik Reşit Unat, İkinci Meşrutiyetin İlânı ve Otuzbir Mart Hârdisesi (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Yayınları, 1991), 82. 95. Mehmet had spent the previous thirty years confined to the imperial palace in Yıldız. An accomplished poet, he appears to have had neither the ability nor the desire to exercise political power. 96. Unless they took foreign passports, the only way left for non-Muslims to avoid military service was to pay the bedel-i nakdi by which Muslims could buy exemption. However, this was so expensive that only a tiny minority in either community were able to afford it. 97. Arthur B. Geary to Sir Gerard A. Lowther, Future Policy of Committee outlined in speeches of Talaat and Djavid, Monastir, 18 August 1910. Communication No. 38 FO 294/47, Public Record Office, London. 98. There were occasions when the motions submitted by provincial deputies to parliament were dismissed simply because their Turkish was so poor that nobody else could understand what they were saying. Hasan Kayalı, Arabs and Young Turks: Ottomanism, Arabism and Islamism in the Ottoman Empire 1908–1918 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), 79. 99. Tanin, 11 February 1911, quoted in Kayalı, Arabs and Young Turks, 92. 100. The Turkish word yurt, from which yurdu comes, is also used to describe the large tents used by Turkic nomads. 101. Jacob M. Landau, Pan-Turkish: From Irredentism to Cooperation (London: Hurst and Co., 1995), 40–41. 102. Even today it remains the largest and most influential ultranationalist organization in Turkey, with sixty-seven branches scattered throughout the country. http://www .turkocagi.org.tr 103. The Balkan states had been encouraged by the Ottomans’ failure to prevent Italian troops from invading Tripolitania in October 1911 and the Dodecanese islands in May 1912. Both were formally ceded to Italy on 17 October 1912. 104. Under the Treaty of London, the province of Edirne was ceded to Bulgaria. However, the Ottoman Empire was able to take advantage of another round of fighting—this time between the Balkan states in what has become known as the Second Balkan War (1913)—to regain the province of Edirne. 105. Erik J. Zürcher, Turkey: A Modern History, 115 106. From February 1917, Talat also served as Grand Vizier.

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107. Little is known about the internal workings of the Teşkilât-ı Mahsusa, although it appears to have been mostly composed of volunteers, had close links with the İTC Committee, and been headed by a leading İTC member called Bahaeddin Şakir (c. 1880–1922). 108. Like most of the Young Turk ideologues, Gökalp grew up in an environment in which ethnic Turks were in the minority. He was born Mehmet Ziya in the predominantly Kurdish city of Diyarbakır and began to use the penname Gökalp, or “celestial hero,” when he started writing for Young Turk publications. 109. Ziya Gökalp, Turkish Nationalism and Western Civilization (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1959), 133. 110. Ibid. 111. Ziya Gökalp, Turkish Nationalism and Western Civilization, 134. 112. Ziya Gökalp, Turkish Nationalism and Western Civilization, 138. The same sentiment underlies Mustafa Kemal’s famous dictum Ne mutlu Türküm diyene, or “How happy is the one who says ‘I am a Turk.’” 113. Ziya Gökalp, Turkish Nationalism and Western Civilization, 137 114. Ibid. 115. The reasons why the İTC leaders took the decision to enter World War I remain obscure. However, it appears likely that they—particularly Enver, who seems to have been the main architect of the alliance with Germany—miscalculated that a swift victory by the Central Powers over Russia would allow the Ottoman Empire to reassert itself in the Balkans and the Caucasus. 116. An English translation of the fatwa can be found at http://www.firstworldwar.com/ source/ottoman_fetva.htm 117. This sense of resignation can be seen in İrfan Orga’s exquisite memoir Portrait of a Turkish Family (London: Eland, 1993), 65–74. 118. For example, the Ottoman soldiers who died in the successful defense of Gallipoli, many of whom were actually Arabs, are described as being “motivated to defend the honor of the Turkish nation.” Official Web site of the Turkish embassy in Washington, DC. http://www.turkishembassy.org 119. Recruits to the modern Turkish army are still taught the same battle cry today. Author’s observation during a visit to the Turkish Land Forces Commando Training Center, Eğirdir, May 1998. 120. Sura 2:230. 121. Halide Edip, House With Wisteria: Memoirs of Halide Edip (Charlottesville: Leopolis, 2003), 319–20. 122. Yavuz Selim Karakışla, Society for the Employment of Ottoman Muslim Women 1916– 1923 (Istanbul: Ottoman Bank Archives and Research Centre, 2005), 51. No such organizations were formed for non-Muslim women. 123. Arab Bureau Papers, Foreign Office 882, Vol. 18. Public Record Office, London, United Kingdom. 124. The British promised Hussein that they would help install him as ruler of an Arab empire covering virtually the entire territory between Egypt and modern Iran. However, at the same time, the British and the French drew up a secret treaty, which is known as the Sykes-Picot Agreement after the names of its two main architects, the British diplomat Sir Mark Sykes and his French counterpart François Georges-Picot, dividing between themselves most of the territory promised to Hussein. George Antonius, The Arab Awakening (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1945), 413–34. 125. Hussein remained in secret contact with the İTC throughout almost the entire war. There is little doubt that he would have agreed to lay down his arms if the İTC had

NOTES

126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131.

132.

133.

134. 135. 136.

137.

138.

237

been prepared to grant him official pre-eminence in the empire’s Arab provinces. David Fromkin, A Peace To End All Peace: Creating the Modern Middle East (London: Penguin, 1991), 220–1. Reported in the Arabic language newspaper al-Sharq, 23 January 1917. Translation by George Antonius, The Arab Awakening, 208. T. E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom (London: Jonathan Cape, 1935). Elie Kedourie, In the Anglo-Arab Labyrinth: The McMahon-Husayn Correspondence and its Interpreters 1914–1919 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 201. For example, Sosyal Bilgiler 7 (Istanbul: Devlet Kitapları Müdürlüğü, 2004), 134–8. Ulrich Trumpener, Germany and the Ottoman Empire 1914–1918 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968), 203. Enver’s ambitions often outstripped his ability. Poor leadership and a failure to equip his army for a Caucasian winter meant that 80,000 out of a total of 90,000 Ottoman troops lost their lives, mostly as the result of frostbite and exhaustion. The order was not always immediately implemented, as there are records of Armenians in fighting units in Palestine as late as 1916; perhaps because the local commanders were reluctant to lose frontline troops. However, within eighteen months, virtually all of the Armenians serving in the Ottoman army had disappeared. Some managed to desert. Others died of disease or hunger as conditions in the labor battalions were even worse than in Ottoman fighting units. But contemporary accounts leave no doubt that the majority were executed. Some of the many eyewitness accounts of those who survived the deportations have been collected in Donald E. Miller and Lorna Touryan Miller, Survivors: An Oral History of the Armenian Genocide (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999). Hürriyet, 25 April 2005. The list presumably did not include Armenian males already drafted into the Ottoman army. BOA. DH. ŞFR, nr. 54/406. The full text of the telegram in modern Turkish script can be found at http://www.devletarsivleri.gov.tr/yayin/osmanli/o_b_ermeniler/2b_071.htm At the very least, the phrase appears to suggest that Talat was less concerned about atrocities against Armenians than those against other Christians. Others have interpreted it as an implicit admission that orders had been given to massacre Armenians. Taner Akçam, From Empire to Republic, 175. However, there were cases where local Muslims took Armenian children from the convoys: sometimes for utilitarian motives, such as taking young girls as concubines or maids; sometimes for purely humanitarian ones. In rural areas, there were also instances of Armenians saving their children from deportation by giving them to Muslim acquaintances, who passed them off as their own. In most cases the children grew up as Muslims and concealed their true identities from everybody outside their adopted families. The author has seven Muslim Turkish acquaintances who discovered relatively late in life that one of their grandparents was an Armenian who had survived the massacres; perhaps significantly, always a grandmother. The story of one such revelation is movingly documented in Fethiye Çetin, Anneannem (Istanbul: Metis Yayınları, 2004). The revenge killings returned in the 1970s and 1980s when an extremist group calling itself the Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) staged a series of attacks against Turkish targets, killing a total of thirty-one Turkish diplomats, embassy staff, and members of their families. Enver first cooperated with and then turned against the Bolsheviks. Bülent Gökay, A Clash of Empires: Turkey between Russian Bolshevism and British Imperialism 1918– 1923 (London: Tauris Academic Studies, 1997), 67 and 120–22.

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Chapter 3 1. Known for most of his life as Mustafa Kemal, he adopted the surname Atatürk, meaning “Father Turk” or “Ancestor Turk,” when he made it compulsory for all Turkish citizens to have a hereditary family name from January 1935. 2. Preamble and Article 2, Turkish Constitution. Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs Web site. http://www.mfa.gov.tr. 3. In addition to various provisions of the Turkish Penal Code, the Law on Crimes Against Atatürk (Law No. 5816 of 1951) outlaws any abuse of Atatürk’s memory. 4. The event is still commemorated each year across Turkey and in Samsun itself, where a bust of Atatürk is ceremonially brought ashore from a boat. 5. Author’s observation during a visit to military academies, May 1998. 6. For symbolic reasons, Atatürk later suggested that it might have been spring, although either January or February appears more likely. Andrew Mango, Atatürk (London: John Murray, 1999), 26. 7. Ibid, 36–37. 8. Elliott Grinnel Mears, Modern Turkey (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1924), 557. 9. Mango, Atatürk, 33. 10. Lord Kinross, Atatürk: The Rebirth of a Nation (Nicosia: Rustem, 1990), 6. 11. To reinforce the sense of Mustafa Kemal’s eternal immanence, each year on 13 March, the anniversary of his enrollment in 1899, at morning roll-call in the War College an officer calls out Mustafa Kemal’s name and the cadets respond in unison: “Present!” 12. Atatürk later credited his history teacher at the military preparatory school, a passionate Turkish nationalist called Major Mehmet Tevfik, with opening “a new horizon before my eyes.” Ali Fuat Cebesoy, Sınıf Arkadaşım Atatürk (Istanbul: İnkılâp, 1981), 9 13. For example, Sami Karaören, “Under the light of Atatürk,” in Atatürk: From the Past to the Future, ed. Türkan Saylan (Istanbul: Association for Contemporary Living, 1996), 58. 14. Mango, Atatürk, 147–55. 15. Particularly in preventing the Allied forces from breaking out of their beachhead in the early days of the campaign. Overall command of Ottoman forces at Gallipoli belonged to the German General Otto von Sanders (1855–1929). 16. Apart from a caption under a photograph in the December 1915 issue of the official Ottoman War Ministry magazine Harp Mecmuası, or “War Review,” showing Mustafa Kemal standing under a tree at Gallipoli, his name did not even appear in the press until March 1918, when he was interviewed for Yeni Mecmuası, or “New Review”; and even then the interview was buried on page 130. Mango, Atatürk, 159. 17. Though undoubtedly spiced with a fair degree of artistic license, a vivid description of Atatürk’s mood and machinations during this period is given in H. C. Armstrong, Grey Wolf: An Intimate Study of a Dictator (London: Arthur Baker, 1939), 114–21. 18. The main exceptions were in the south, where the Ottomans were later forced to relinquish possession of what is now the province of Mosul in Iraq. The Hatay, which was not under Ottoman control at the end of the war, was annexed by the Turkish Republic in 1939. 19. The negotiations took so long that, by the time the treaty was finally signed, the Allies were no longer able to enforce it, as they had long since demobilized their wartime armies. An English language copy of the text can be found at http://www.lib.byu.edu/ ~rdh/wwi/versa/sevindex.html. Even though it was superseded by the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, Sèvres continues to haunt the Turkish national psyche. Many Turks believe it still represents the true intentions of the West today.

NOTES

239

20. These organizations often took slightly different names. For example, the local organization in İzmir was called the Mudafaa-i Hukuk-u Osmaniye Cemiyeti, or “Society for the Defense of Ottoman Rights,” in Thrace the Trakya Pasaeli Cemiyeti, or “Society for the Defense of Thrace,” and in eastern Anatolia the Vilayat-i Sarkiyye Mudafaa-i Hukuk Cemiyeti, or “Society Committee for the Defense of the Rights of the Eastern Provinces.” 21. In an interview with G. W. Price, the Constantinople correspondent of the Daily Mail of London, Mustafa Kemal offered his services to the Allies, commenting that: “If the British are going to assume responsibility for Anatolia they will need the cooperation of experienced Turkish governors to work with them.” G. Ward Price, Extra-Special Correspondent (London: George G. Harrap, 1957), 104. Although he was to excoriate him repeatedly in the Nutuk, Mustafa Kemal also appears to have enjoyed a good relationship with Sultan Mehmet Vahdettin (1861–1926), who had succeeded to the throne as Mehmet VI in July 1918. He accompanied the then–crown prince on an official visit to Germany in December 1918. During his six months in Constantinople in 1918–19, Mustafa Kemal had four audiences with the sovereign, although the content of their discussions remains unclear. 22. In the Nutuk, Atatürk claimed that there was a conspiracy to arrest him or sink his ship on the way to Samsun but that he preferred to risk death rather than become a prisoner. Atatürk, The Great Speech (Ankara: Atatürk Research Center, 2005), 24–25. There is no evidence of any such plot. In fact, when he was in Constantinople, British intelligence knew him only as one of a large number of Ottoman officers with links to the İTC. FO. 371/4173, E. 5811, Public Record Office, London. After he arrived in Samsun, Mustafa Kemal held cordial meetings with locally based British military officials to discuss his tour of inspection “with the object of maintaining tranquility.” Captain L. H. Hurst to Vice-Admiral Sir. A. Calthorpe on 21 May 1919. FO 371/4157 Public Record Office, London. 23. On 13 October 1921, the resistance movement signed the Treaty of Kars with the Soviet republics of Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and the Russian Federation, formalizing what was to become the eastern border of the modern Turkish republic. An English translation of the treaty is available at groong.usc.edu/treaties/kars.html 24. Letter of 20 July 1915, from Mustafa Kemal to Corinne Lütfü, a young widow in Constantinople with whom he regularly corresponded while on active service, quoted in Mango, Atatürk, 150. 25. Ethem Ruhi Fığlalı, “Atatürk, Religion and Laicism,” in A Handbook of Kemalist Thought (Ankara: Atatürk Research Center, 2001), 109–15. 26. Mango, Atatürk, 46 27. For example, local religious officials known as muftis were included as founding members in 130 of the 140 societies for the defense of national rights established across Anatolia. Recep Çelik, Milli Mücadelede Din Adamları Cilt 2 (Istanbul: Emre Yayınları, 2004), 241. 28. Ibid. 244. 29. Ibid, 243. 30. Atatürk, The Great Speech, 9. 31. Atatürk, The Great Speech, 208. 32. In the Ottoman Empire the title of mufti was given to the leading Muslim cleric, and thus also the person best qualified to express an opinion on issues of Islamic law, in a particular region or large city.

240

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33. After he had been deposed, Sultan Mehmet Vahdettin issued a proclamation from exile in the Hijaz claiming that he had always known that the leadership of resistance “bore ill will towards my person and my authority.” Mango, Atatürk, 285. 34. In a declaration issued on 2 July 1920, Mustafa Kemal explicitly referred to the military campaign against the Greeks in terms of a holy war, stating: “The jihad, once it is properly preached, will, with God’s help, result quickly in the rout of the Greeks.” Quoted in Mango, Atatürk, 282. 35. Mango, Atatürk, 278. 36. Ergün Aybars, İstiklal Mahkemeleri (Istanbul: AD Kitapcılık, 1998), 34–41. 37. Article 3 of the Teşkilât-ı Esasiye Kanunu. The full Turkish text of the law can be found at http://www.anayasa.gen.tr/1921tek.htm. 38. Mango, Atatürk, 280. 39. Contrary to the claims of modern official Turkish historiography, which portrays the resistance as an enthusiastic popular uprising, recruitment was always difficult and desertion a constant problem. In his memoirs, Kılıç Ali (1888–1971), who became one of the most feared of the Independence Tribunal judges, made no secret of the fact that intimidation of the local populace was one of main purposes of the courts. Hulûsı Turgut (ed.), Kılıç Ali’nin Anıları (Istanbul: Türkiye İş Bankası Kültür Yayınları, 2006), 367. 40. Ergün Aybars, İstiklal Mahkemeleri, 52–59. 41. In the period September 1920 to June 1922, the Independence Tribunals passed 3,993 death sentences, of which 243 were in absentia. 1,054 people were hanged. Almost all of the 2,696 who were condemned to death but subsequently spared were deserters whose lives were saved—at least temporarily—by them being sent straight to the front. Turgut, Kılıç Ali’nin Anıları, 373. 42. Author’s translation. Çerkes Ethem, Anılarım (Istanbul: Berfin Yayınları, 1998), 80. 43. Green has traditionally been seen as the color of Islam. The choice of name may have been influenced by reports of the Green Army of Ukrainian irregulars, which was active in the Russian Civil War and which many Muslims mistakenly believed to be composed of their coreligionists. 44. There was also an independent Turkish communist party (Türkiye Komünist Partisi or TKP), which had been founded in Baku in September 1920 by Mustafa Suphi (1883– 1921), a former journalist who had fled to Russia before the outbreak of World War I. Suphi returned to Anatolia in late December 1920. On 28 January 1921, Suphi and twelve of his comrades were arrested by members of the resistance in the eastern Black Sea, taken offshore in a boat and murdered. Whether or not Mustafa Kemal was implicated in the killings remains unclear. What is undoubted is that no measures were taken to punish the perpetrators. 45. Çerkes Ethem, Anılarım, 122. 46. Çerkes Ethem, Anılarım, 119–27. 47. The Treaty of Sèvres foresaw the creation of a Kurdish state. However, the British government in particular remained wary of fomenting Kurdish nationalist feeling for fear that it might spread to what is now Iraq, particularly the oil fields in the predominantly Kurdish north of the country. But there were exceptions. The maverick British officer Major Edward Noel, who had already spent four years with the Kurds in what is now Iran before being sent to Anatolia to investigate the prospects for a Kurdish state, appears to have been genuinely committed to Kurdish nationalism. Such idealism was viewed with distrust by Noel’s colleagues, one of whom referred to him as “another fanatic . . . I am afraid Noel may turn out a Kurdish Col. Lawrence.” (J. B. Hohler to Tilley, Constantinople, 21 July 1919, Public Record Office, London, FO 371/4192.) If Noel ever did have such ambitions, they were to be frustrated. He never succeeded in inciting

NOTES

48.

49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

55.

56. 57.

58. 59.

60.

241

a Kurdish nationalist uprising or changing a society which he described in April 1919 as “clannish” rather than “nationalist.” 6 April 1919, Memorandum on Mesopotamia’s future constitution, Enclosure No. 8, Public Record Office, London, FO 371/4149. The Kurds of Anatolia did not even share a unified language but spoke a number of mutually unintelligible dialects. The majority spoke the dialect of Kurdish known as Kurmanji, but, particularly amongst Alevis, there were large numbers of Kurds who spoke another dialect called Zaza. In southeast Anatolia there were also pockets of other Kurdish dialects, such as Surani, which today is the main Kurdish language used in Iran and Iraq. Admiral John de Robeck, British High Commissioner in Constantinople, to Foreign Secretary Lord Curzon, 29 March 1920. Public Record Office, London, FO 371/5068. Cited in McDowall, A Modern History of the Kurds, 187. Türkiye Büyük Millet Meclis, Gizli Celse Zabıtları II (Ankara: Türkiye İş Bankası, 1983–5), 270. Vahdettin eventually took refuge in Sanremo, Italy, where he died on 16 May 1926. The full English text of the Lausanne Treaty can be found at http://www.lib.byu.edu/ ~rdh/wwi/1918p/lausanne.html. Many Muslims had long referred to the city as Istanbul, which is believed to be derived from the Greek eis tin polin meaning “to the city.” However, the new name was not formally adopted by the Turkish Post Office until 1930. Laz is a South Caucasian language distantly related to Georgian, which is now primarily spoken in rural communities along Turkey’s eastern Black Sea coast. There are no reliable figures for their number of Laz speakers today. Estimates range from 50,000 to 500,000, although the true figure is probably considerably closer to the former than the latter. The full English text of the convention can be found at http://www.hri.org/docs/straits/ exchange.html. A further exemption was added for the approximately 11,500 Greek Orthodox Christians on the islands of Imbros and Tenedos (now known in Turkish as Gökçeada and Bozcaada respectively). The number of Muslims in western Thrace was around 100,000. No reliable figures are available for the Greek Orthodox population of Constantinople. In 1920, the British military in the city estimated the number at around 200,000, or approximately 20 percent of a population of one million. The first census of the new republic’s population, which was conducted in 1927, suggested that just under 92,000 (or 11.6 percent) of the city’s population of 795,000 spoke Greek as their mother tongue. Fuat Dündar, Türkiye Nüfus Sayımlarında Azınlıklar (İstanbul: Doz Yayınları, 1999), 156–7. For an account of the human toll of the exchange see Bruce Clark, Twice A Stranger: How Mass Expulsion Forged Modern Greece And Turkey (London: Granta Books, 2006). A handful of members of the Karamanli community supported Mustafa Kemal during the resistance in Anatolia. They were led by the maverick Pavlos Karahisarithis (1884– 1968), who in 1924 had himself appointed Papa Efthimiou, the patriarch of what he called the Turkish Orthodox Church. The new church received the backing of Mustafa Kemal, presumably because he saw it as a means of weakening the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate. However, Papa Efthimiou never succeeded in attracting more than a few hundred supporters and by 2007 the church had effectively ceased to exist. A survey conducted by the İTC in 1915, which was admittedly far from comprehensive, identified 264 industrial enterprises in the empire, of which approximately half were in Constantinople and most of the remainder divided between Izmir and Bursa. A total of 172 (80.4 percent) of the privately owned companies belonged to non-Muslims, while

242

61.

62.

63. 64. 65. 66.

67.

68.

69.

70. 71.

72.

73.

NOTES

42 (19.6 percent) were owned by Muslims. In terms of advanced technology, the gap was even wider. For example, Muslims owned twenty-four of the twenty-nine individually owned flour mills but only one of the nine pasta factories and two of the eighteen sugar refineries. All of the canned food factories were owned by non-Muslims. Ayşe Buğra, State and Business in Modern Turkey: A Comparative Study (Albany: State University of New York, 1994), 38–39. Çağlar Keyder, “The Consequences of the Exchange of Populations for Turkey,” in Crossing the Aegean: An Appraisal of the 1923 Compulsory Population Exchange between Greece and Turkey, ed. Renée Hirschon (Oxford: Berghahn, 2003), 46. The foundation of the Halk Fırkası, or “People’s Party,” was originally announced on 9 September 1923, although it was not formally registered until 23 October 1923. It was renamed Cumhuriyet Halk Fırkası, or “Republican People’s Party,” on 10 October 1923. On 9 May 1935, fırka, the Arabic-origin word meaning “party,” was replaced by the French loan word parti. Mehmet Ali Gökaçtı, Türkiye’de Din Eğitim Ve İmam Hatipler (İstanbul: İletişim, 2005), 132–3. Binnaz Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981), 49. In 1920 the Ottoman government had brought the Shari’a law courts back under the control of the sheikhulislam. Author’s translation of Article 2 of the 1924 Constitution. The full Turkish text can be found at http://www.anayasa.gen.tr/1924tek.htm. An English translation is available at http://www.bilkent.edu.tr/~genckaya/1924constitution.pdf. Article 2, ibid. In addition to symbolizing a break with the past, there were also strategic reasons for locating the capital in Ankara, which was considerable less vulnerable than Istanbul to foreign attack from the sea. “After the abolition of the caliphate, Turkish Islam became exiled within its own culture. It became like a body without organs or, perhaps more accurately, organs without body.” Author interview with Dr. Yasin Aktay, Konya, May 2003. The enthusiasm with which rebel forces looted the Kurdish cities of Elazığ, Diyarbakır, and Mardin did little to inspire feelings of national and religious solidarity amongst the towns’ inhabitants. British intelligence reports, April 1925. FO 684, Public Record Office, London. FO 371, Public Record Office, London. However, some took advantage of the outbreak of fighting to try to settle old scores. For example, the Alevi Khormek and Lolan tribes took the opportunity to attack their long-time enemy the Sunni Jibran tribe. Martin van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaikh and State (London: Zed Books, 1992), 303. “Open rebellion by a conservative Moslem peasantry was freely prophesied.” Edward Mead Earle, “The New Constitution of Turkey,” Political Science Quarterly 40, no. 1 (1925): 86. Modern Kemalist historiography still claims that the Sheikh Said rebellion was encouraged and supported by foreign powers, particularly the British. Aybars, İstiklal Mahkemeleri, 217–18) In fact, British diplomatic and military archives make it clear that the British authorities not only consistently rejected pleas from the rebels for support but were vigorously opposed to the uprising; not least because they feared that any upsurge in Kurdish nationalist sentiment might spill over into British-occupied Iraq. FO 684, Public Record Office, London. While France transported more than 10,000 Turkish troops across French-occupied Syria by train in order to suppress the revolt. AIR 23/236, Public Record Office, London.

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74. Author’s translation, Article One, Takrir-i Sükün Kanunu. 75. No accurate figures are available for the number of rebels. At his trial, Sheikh Said claimed that only 3,000 actively participated in the revolt. The Turkish government put the number at 5,000. Van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaikh and State, 303. 76. No precise figures are available for the number of those executed for their part in the Sheikh Said rebellion, although it was probably at least 700. Under the Takrir-i Sükün Kanunu, the Independence Tribunals handled a large number of cases unrelated to the rebellion. While military courts were also used to prosecute and execute a significant number of rebels. Aybars, İstiklal Mahkemeleri, 405. Many more Kurds died as the result of a scorched earth policy implemented by the Turkish military in areas believed to be sympathetic to the rebels. Over 20,000 Kurds were forcibly relocated, mostly to western Anatolia. 77. Aybars, İstiklal Mahkemeleri, 307. 78. Kinross, Atatürk: The Rebirth of a Nation, 31–32. 79. Atatürk, The Great Speech, 713–714. 80. Author’s translation. Article One, Şapka İktisasi Hakkında Kanun, Official Gazette No. 230 of 28 November 1925. 81. Aybars, İstiklal Mahkemeleri, 345 82. Houchang Chehabi, “Dress Codes for Men in Turkey and Iran,” in Men of Order: Authoritarian Modernization Under Atatürk and Reza Shah, ed. Touraj Atabaki and Erik J. Zürcher (London: I. B. Tauris, 2004), 215–16. 83. The reason for the uncertainty is that, in addition to the Independence Tribunal, some of the demonstrators were sentenced by other courts, such as military tribunals, whose archives have still not been thoroughly studied. 84. The order was included as a clause in the 2 September 1925 decree making the wearing of Western-style clothing compulsory for all male civil servants. 85. Law No. 677 of 30 November 1925, published in the Official Gazette No. 243 of 13 December 1925. The full Turkish text of the law is available at http://www.mevzuat .adalet.gov.tr/html/390.html. 86. Atatürk, The Great Speech, 714. 87. Law No. 698, Takvimde Tarih Mehdeinin Tebdili Hakkında Kanun, or “Law on the Change to the Calendar,” of 26 December 1925. In order to complete the transition, thirteen days were omitted from the calendar at the end of December 1926. 88. Law No. 698, Günün Yirmi Dört Saat Taksimine Dair Kanun, or “Law on the Division of the Day into Twenty-Four Hours,” of 26 December 1925. 89. The new civil code was published as Law No. 743 in the Official Gazette No. 339 of 4 April 1926 and came into force from 4 October 1926. 90. One was Abdülkadir, who had escaped the initial roundup of suspects but who was captured on 13 August 1926 and hanged in Ankara on 31 August 1926. The other was Kara Kemal (1868–1926), one of the leaders of the Karakol Cemiyeti, which had played such a critical role in supplying the Anatolian resistance during the War of Liberation. Kara Kemal had gone into hiding. When he was discovered, he shot himself rather than face the ignominy of a public hanging. 91. Turgut, Kılıç Ali’nin Anıları, 479–84. 92. The hanged men included Cavit (1875–1926), a liberal and former Ministry of Finance under the İTC, who was in semi-retirement but against whom Mustafa Kemal had long held a personal grudge. 93. It was actually called the second congress after the party retrospectively appropriated the Sivas Congress of September 1919 in a disingenuous attempt to present itself as a continuation of the Anatolian resistance movement.

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94. The Qur’an does not explicitly prohibit the depiction of humans or animals, although there are several hadith which inveigh against them (for example, al-Bukhari, Volume 3, Book 34, No. 428; Volume 4, Book 55, No. 570; and Volume 7, Book 62, No. 110). Although there was a tradition of human representation in Ottoman court art, depictions of living creatures remained anathema to the majority of Ottoman Islamic scholars. 95. Although they are often referred to as Arabic, and more formally as Hindu-Arabic, the numerals used in European languages have their origins in India but were introduced to Europe by Arab mathematicians in the tenth century CE. 96. Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey, 49. 97. Ahmet Ünsür, Kuruluşundan Günümüze İmam-Hatip Liseleri (Istanbul: Ensar Neşriyat, 2005), 89–90. 98. The process is entertainingly described in Geoffrey Lewis, The Turkish Language Reform: A Catastrophic Success (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). It continues today. Despite its many absurdities, the reform has been so successful that the Nutuk now needs to be translated into modern Turkish in order to make it comprehensible to younger generations of Turkish schoolchildren. 99. For example, explicit claims to particular developments have been replaced by phrases crediting Turks with unspecified but significant contributions to the development of civilization. See İlköğretim Sosyal Bilgiler 4 (Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Basımevi, 2004), 131. 100. Author’s translations from the high school textbook Tarih IV (Istanbul: Devlet Matbaası, 1934), 206. It is sometimes claimed that the new history textbooks ignored the Ottoman period. This is not true. Virtually all of Tarih III, the third volume in the series, is devoted to the Ottoman Empire; albeit often in unfavorable contrast to the progress being made in post-Reformation Europe. 101. The chador, usually called çarşaf, or “sheet,” in Turkish, is a full-length monochrome body cloak, usually black, which covers the woman from head to ankle, leaving only the face exposed, though this is also sometimes covered by a veil. The hijab, known as başörtü, or “headcovering,” in Turkish, is a headscarf which covers the hair and neck but leaves the face clear. Unlike the chador, the hijab is often ostentatiously, and fashionably, decorative. 102. Law No. 2525 of 21 June 1934, published in the Official Gazette No. 2741 of 2 July 1934. 103. Articles 3 of the Surname Law. Translation by Meltem F. Türköz, The Social Life of the State’s Fantasy: Memories and Documents on Turkey’s 1934 Surname Law (unpublished Ph.D. thesis). 104. Until the advent of television in the 1960s, the celebrations were almost exclusively confined to the Kemalist elite. But, particularly from the late 1980s onwards, the New Year has been celebrated more widely and more publicly; often with all the trappings of a Christian Christmas, including Santa Claus, Christmas trees, and—perhaps most bizarrely—the playing of Christmas carols in large stores. 105. Unusually for a member of the Young Turk movement, Alp was born to a Jewish family as Moise Cohen. He adopted the name Tekin Alp, which means “Auspicious Hero,” to demonstrate his commitment to Turkishness. 106. Known as the CHF until 1935. 107. Even before the global depression that started in 1929, Turkey had been economically crippled by the loss of the majority of the non-Muslim mercantile class and had yet to develop sufficient numbers of Muslim entrepreneurs. As a result, the state was seen as the only viable motor of economic development.

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108. A detailed account of the uprising based on contemporary military reports was published by the War History Department of the Turkish General Staff in 1972. Reşat Hallı, Türkiye Cumhuriyetinde ayaklanmalar (1924–1938) [Rebellions in the Republic of Turkey, 1924–1938] (Ankara: T. C. Genelkurmay Başkanlığı Harp Tarihi Dairesi, 1972), 365–480. However, the numerous candid accounts of summary executions and indiscriminate massacres led to the book being immediately recalled and destroyed. Only a small number of clandestine copies have survived. Martin van Bruinessen, “Genocide in Kurdistan? The suppression of the Dersim rebellion in Turkey (1937–38) and the chemical war against the Iraqi Kurds (1988),” in Conceptual and Historical Dimensions of Genocide, ed. George J. Andreopoulos (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994), 148. 109. Author’s translation, Özyavuz, Osmalı Türk Anayasaları, 289. 110. For example, in 1925 all non-Muslim employees of the Üsküdar-Kadıköy Water Utility Company in Istanbul were dismissed following a request by the Ministry of Reconstruction and Development in Ankara. Soner Çağaptay, Islam, Secularism, and Nationalism in Modern Turkey: Who is a Turk? (London: Routledge, 2006), 28. 111. Memuin Kanunu No. 788 of 16 March 1926, published in the Official Gazette No. 336 of 31 March 1926. 112. İskan Kanunu No. 2510 of 14 June 1934, published in the Official Gazette No. 2733 of 21 June 1934. 113. Ibid. 114. Sir G. Clerk (Constantinople) to M. A. Henderson MP, 6 March 1930, Public Record Office, London, FO 371/14567. 115. Berna Pekesen, “The exodus of Armenians from the Sanjak of Alexandretta in the 1930s,” in Turkey Beyond Nationalism, ed. Hans-Lukas Kieser (London: I. B. Tauris, 2006), 63. 116. Vakit newspaper of 27 April 1925. Çağaptay, Islam, Secularism, and Nationalism in Modern Turkey, 25. 117. Ibid., 148. 118. Cem Emrence, “Politics of Discontent in the Midst of the Great Depression: The Free Republican Party of Turkey (1930),” New Perspectives on Turkey 23 (2000): 31–52. 119. Author’s translation. Milliyet, 19 September 1930. 120. Law No. 2007 of 11 June 1932, published in the Official Gazette No. 2126 of 16 June 1932. 121. Çağaptay, Islam, Secularism, and Nationalism in Modern Turkey, 70. 122. Türköz, The Social Life of the State’s Fantasy. 123. Law No. 2762 of 5 June 1935, published in the Official Gazette No. 3027 of 13 June 1935. 124. Council of Ministers’ Decree No. 2/5042 of 17 July 1936, published in the Official Gazette No. 3371 of 1 August 1936. 125. Birge, The Bektashi Order of Dervishes, 16 126. Baha Sait, “Türkiyede Alevi Zümreleri,” Türk Yurdu No. 21, September 1926. 127. Ziya Bey, “Bektaşilik,” Yeni Gün, 8 March 1931. 128. Erik J. Zürcher, Two Young Ottomanists Discover Kemalist Turkey: The Travel Diaries of Robert Anhegger and Andreas Tietze. (Available Online) Leiden University (cited December, 2007); Available from http://www.let.leidenuniv.nl/tcimo/tulp/Research/ diaries.htm.

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Chapter 4 1. Can Dündar, Köy Enstitütleri (Ankara: İmge Kitabevi, 2000), 22–23. 2. Turkey declared war on Germany and Japan on 23 February 1945, two months before the final German collapse, in order to secure a seat in the United Nations, which was formally established by the victorious Allies on 24 October 1945. 3. There were even instances of Nazi officers being allowed to give propaganda lectures in Turkish schools. Interview with İshak Alaton in Rıdvan Akar, Aşkale Yolcuları: Varlık Vergisi ve Çalışma Kampları (Istanbul: Mephisto, 2006), 243. 4. The most famous example is that of the Struma, a dilapidated passenger ship that arrived in Istanbul in December 1941 with 790 Romanian Jews who were hoping continue on to Palestine, which was still under a British mandate. On its arrival in Istanbul, the Struma’s engine broke down. The British refused to guarantee that all the passengers would be allowed to enter Palestine. The Turkish authorities refused to allow them to disembark in Istanbul. On the evening of 23 February 1942, as negotiations were still continuing, the Turkish police abruptly seized control of the Struma, towed it into the Black Sea, and cast it adrift. At first light, the Struma was sunk by a Russian submarine, which was apparently under orders to attack all neutral ships on suspicion that they could be carrying raw materials to Germany. A total of 769 men, women, and children were drowned. 5. They include Necdet Kent (1911–2002) and Namık Kemal Yolga (1914–2001) in France and Selahattin Ülkümen (1914–2003) in Greece. 6. Corinna Görgü Guttstadt, “Depriving non-Muslims of citizenship as part of the Turkification policy in the early years of the Turkish Republic: The case of Turkish Jews and its consequences during the Holocaust,” in Turkey Beyond Nationalism, ed. Hans-Lukas Kieser (London: I. B. Tauris, 2006), 52–53. 7. All of the figures are taken from Turkish state archives and cited in Corinna Görgü Guttstadt, op. cit., 54–56. 8. Rıdvan Akar, Aşkale Yolcuları, 181–4. 9. Author’s translation. Ayhan Ahtar, Varlık Vergisi ve Türkleştirme Politikları (Istanbul: İletişim, 2000), 148. 10. In his groundbreaking study of Turkish rural life in 1949–52, Paul Stirling noted that most villagers had little use for literacy as they had no access to books or newspapers. Paul Stirling, Turkish Village (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1965), 278. 11. Zürcher, Turkey: Modern History, 216. 12. Over the years that followed, İnonü’s willingness to allow greater political pluralism appears to have been bolstered by Turkey’s desire to ingratiate itself with the United States. The end of World War II had left Turkey feeling dangerously exposed. With the Soviet Union eyeing northeast Anatolia, İnonü was anxious to seek the protection of alignment with the Western democracies and access to the largesse foreseen in the Marshall Plan of 1947. 13. The counting was conducted in secret, leading to widespread allegations of fraud at the time and considerable confusion over the precise results in later sources. The figures used here and for subsequent elections are taken from the official results published by the Turkish Statistical Institute. Cumhuriyet’ten Günümüze Milletvekili Seçimleri 1923–2002 (Ankara: Devlet İstatistik Enstitüsü, 2004). 14. Author’s translation of the minutes of the Third Sitting of the 104th Session of the Turkish Grand National Assembly on 10 June 1949. 15. Its full name was also changed from Diyanet İşleri Reisliği to Diyanet İşleri Başkanlığıi.

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16. It supplemented Article 9 of the 1938 Cemiyetler Kanunu, or “Law of Associations,” which banned all organizations based on “principles of religious, creed and religious orders.” Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey, 154 17. Büyük Doğu survived numerous court cases, closures, and confiscations and was last published in 1978, by which time a change in the political climate meant that Kısakürek’s poems were feted by the Turkish state. Kısakürek also served as an inspiration for the violent İslami Büyük Doğu Akıncılar - Cephesi (Islamic Raiders of the Great East–Front or İBDA-C). See Chapter 6. 18. The ÇKP, AKP, and İKP were founded in 1946; the TMP in 1947; and the TESTP in 1949. Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey, 75. 19. Tarık Zafer Tunaya, İslamcilik Cereyanı (Istanbul: Baha Matbaası, 1962), 190–92. 20. Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey, 78–79. 21. This alienation is graphically portrayed in the accounts by Mahmut Makal (born 1930) of his experiences as a graduate of the Köy Enstitütleri, most famously in Bizim Köy (Istanbul: Varlık Yayınları, 1950). 22. Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey, 81–82. 23. Mustafa Aydın, “Süleymancılar,” in İslamcılık, ed. Yasin Aktay (Istanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 2004), 311. 24. All figures taken from Ahmet N. Yücekök, Türkiye Örgütlenmiş Dinin Sosyo-Ekonomik Tabanı (Ankara: Sevinç Matbaası, 1971), 133. 25. Said Nursi, Risale-i Nur No. 126, quoted in Şerif Mardin, Religion and Social Change in Modern Turkey: the Case of Bediüzzaman Said Nursi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989), 95. 26. Nursi appears only to have been in contact with the leaders of the revolt, which his followers claim he was trying to prevent. See Şükran Vahide’s gushing hagiography Islam in Modern Turkey: An Intellectual Biography of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005), 180–82. 27. M. Hakan Yavuz, Islamic Political Identity in Turkey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 161. 28. For example, he insisted that women should wear headscarves to discourage immorality and reveal their “inner moral beauty.” Camilla T. Nereid, In the Light of Said Nursi (Bergen: University of Bergen, 1997), 39. 29. Author’s translation. Faruk Güventürk and Fuad Kadıoğlu, Din Işığında Yobazlık ve Atatürkcülük (Ankara: Ulusal Basımevi, 1967), 101. 30. The full Turkish text of the law is available at http://www.mevzuat.adalet.gov.tr/ html/956.html. 31. Mustafa Bayrak, Türk Siyasi Tarihinde Demokrat Parti (1946–1960) (Ankara: Phoenix Yayınevi, 2004), 496–7. 32. Dilek Güven, 6–7 Eylül Olayları (Istanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 2005), 76 33. Author’s translation of evidence presented at the subsequent trial. 6–7 Eylül Olayları, Fotoğraflar Belgeler Fahri Çoker Arşivi (Istanbul: Tarih Vakfı Yurt Yayınları, 2005), 422. 34. There were also attacks on the Greek Consulate and twenty properties belonging to non-Muslims in Izmir. 35. Many of the photographs taken during the pogrom clearly show the security forces merely observing the destruction. 6–7 Eylül Olayları, Fotoğraflar Belgeler Fahri Çoker Arşivi, 192–5. 36. Güven, 6–7 Eylül Olayları, 54–55. 37. 6–7 Eylül Olayları, Fotoğraflar Belgeler Fahri Çoker Arşivi, 260. 38. Güven, 6–7 Eylül Olayları, 48–50.

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39. The DP initially blamed the pogrom on a communist conspiracy. Even though there was no evidence against them, sixty-seven known left-wing sympathizers were arrested and held for three months before being released. 40. The HP merged with the CHP in November 1958. 41. Toprak, Islam and Political Development in Turkey, 86. 42. Vahide, Islam in Modern Turkey: An Intellectual Biography of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, 338–40. 43. Author’s interviews with retired officers who were posted abroad in the late 1950s. Istanbul, March and September 1997. 44. William Hale, Turkish Politics and the Military (London: Routledge, 1994), 123. 45. Author’s translation. 46. Vatan, 11 November 1960, translation by Walter F. Weiker, The Turkish Revolution 1960–1961 (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1963), 133. 47. The Turkish text of the 1961 constitution is available at http://www.anayasa.gen .tr/1961ay.htm. 48. Author’s translation. http://www.anayasa.gen.tr/1961ay.htm. 49. Ibid. 50. The full Turkish text of Law No. 211 is available at http://www.mevzuat.adalet.gov.tr/ html/1044.html. 51. The closest equivalent to the MGK under the previous regime had been the thirteenperson Milli Savunma Yüksek Kurulu (National Defense Supreme Council, or MSYK), comprising the president, the prime minister, nine government ministers, and the chief of staff. 52. The president, the prime minister, and the ministers of defense, interior, and justice on the civilian side and the chief of staff and the commanders of the land forces, navy, air force, and gendarmerie from the military. 53. The CKMP was the result of a merger between the CMP and a minor party known as the Türkiye Köylü Partisi (Turkish Peasant Party or TKP) in October 1958. 54. A former general, Gümüşpala had been forced into retirement during a purge of the armed forces in August 1960. Although his relations with his former colleagues in the high command were often strained, there is little doubt that the presence of an exofficer at the head of the AP made it more palatable to the military than if the party had been led by one of Menderes’s close associates. 55. Hale, Turkish Politics and the Military, 145–7. 56. Author’s translation from the program quoted in Ruşen Çakır, İrfan Bozan, and Balkan Talu, İmam Hatip Liseleri: Efsaneler ve Gerçekler (Istanbul: TESEV, 2004), 61. 57. Author’s translation http://www.mevzuat.adalet.gov.tr/html/1085.html. 58. Zürcher, Turkey: A Modern History, 264. 59. Merdan Yanardağ, MHP Değişti Mi? (Istanbul: Gendaş, 2002), 52. 60. M. Çağatay Okutan, Bozkurt’tan Kur’an’a: Milli Türk Talebe Birliği: 1916–1980 (Istanbul: Bilgi Üniversitesi Yayınları, 2004), 190. 61. Author’s translation, Alparslan Türkeş, Milli Doktrin: Dokuz Işık (Istanbul: Kamer Yayınları, 1997), 124. The Hira Mountain was where Mohammed is believed to have received the first revelation of the Qur’an. The Celestial Mountains are in the Tien Shan range in Central Asia. 62. The term Turkish-Islamist Synthesis is rarely used by its proponents, who regard it as implying that the ideology is an artificial creation rather than a historical reality. 63. Türkeş, Milli Doktrin: Dokuz Işık, 122. 64. Hale, Turkish Politics and the Military, 184–5. 65. Author’s translation. http://www.belgenet.com/dava/mnp_dava.html

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66. Ruşen Çakır, Alet ve Slogan (Istanbul: Metis Yayınları, 2002), 19–20. 67. Birol Yesiada, The Virtue Party, in Political Parties in Turkey, ed. Barry Rubin and Metin Heper (London: Frank Cass, 2002), 64–65. 68. Author’s translation from the MNP program at http://www.belgenet.com/parti/ program/mnp.html. 69. Author’s translation from the indictment at the subsequent court case against the MNP at http://www.belgenet.com/dava/mnp_01.html. 70. Author’s translation, ibid. 71. Necmettin Erbakan, Meclis’te Ortak Pazar (Izmir: MNP Gençlik Teşkilatı, 1971), 17–18. 72. At the time of writing, the southern 63 percent of the island is administered by the Greek-Cypriot government of the Republic of Cyprus, which the international community continues to recognize as having de iure sovereignty over the entire island. The northern 37 percent of the island is administered by the Turkish Cypriots. In 1983 the north declared its independence as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), which to date has only been recognized by Ankara. 73. Necmettin Erbakan, Milli Görüş (Istanbul: Dergah Yayınları, 1975), 38–9. 74. Ibid. 235–64. 75. Author’s interviews with European Commission officials, Ankara, January and May 1997. 76. The complete text of the OIC charter is available at http://www.oic-oci.org. 77. Paragraph Seven of the Final Declaration of the Seventh Islamic Conference of Foreign Ministers. http://www.oicun.org/articles/33/1/Islamic-Conference-of-Foreign-Ministers -ICFM/1.html 78. The center usually uses the acronym IRCICA because it is easier to pronounce, although it admits that the individual letters do not have a precise meaning. http://www.ircica.org 79. Again, this would appear to conflict with Turkey’s constitutional status as a secular state. 80. http://www.oicun.org/articles/33/1/Islamic-Conference-of-Foreign-Ministers-ICFM/1 .html 81. Erbakan attended the groundbreaking ceremonies for approximately 200 factories, only seventy of which eventually entered production. Fehmi Çalmuk, “Necmettin Erbakan,” in İslamcılık, 555. 82. Faik Bulut and Mehmet Faraç, Kod Adı: Hizbullah (Istanbul: Ozan Yayıncılık, 1999), 50. 83. Akıncı magazine No 5, quoted in Soner Yalçın, Hangi Erbakan (Ankara: Basak Yayınları, 1994), 151. 84. The figure of nearly 600 branches is taken from a report entitled “Anarchy and Terror,” published by the Turkish General Staff in 1981 and reproduced in Faik Bulut, Ordu ve Din (Istanbul: Tumzamanlar Yayıncılık, 1995), 171–179. The paramilitary activities of Ak-Der are discussed in Chapter 6. 85. Private companies in West Germany had begun to recruit Turkish workers in the late 1950s. The practice was formalized by the opening of a Liaison Office in Istanbul in July 1961. Over the next twelve years, a total of 865,000 Turkish workers arrived in West Germany, approximately 70 percent of whom were unskilled. 86. In 1994 the organization’s name was changed to İslam Toplumu Milli Görüş (National View Islamic Community or İTMG). Although still based primarily in Germany, today the İTMG has a branch in almost every European country with a Turkish community. 87. Author’s interviews with members of the Milli Görüş movement, Frankfurt, June 1995. 88. Author’s translation. Soner Yalçin, Hangi Erbakan (Ankara: Başak Yayınları, 1994), 146–7. 89. In fact, although they were undoubtedly alarmed by the rally in Konya, the high command had initiated preparations for the seizure of power as early as 1979. Author’s

250

90.

91.

92. 93. 94.

95.

NOTES

interviews with retired former high-ranking army commanders, Istanbul, February 1997 and September 2000. On 13 March 1956, three female deputies unsuccessfully tried to persuade parliament to debate a motion calling for the chador to be outlawed. Murat Aksoy, Başörtü-Türban: Batılaşma-Modernleşme, Laiklik ve Örtünme (Istanbul: Kitapyayınevi, 2005), 138. In 1960, a nongovernmental organization called the Mustafa Kemal Association unsuccessfully tried to launch a campaign to provide free loose-fitting overcoats to women who abandoned the chador for the başörtüsü. Ibid., 141. Aksoy, Başörtü-Türban: Batılaşma-Modernleşme, Laiklik ve Örtünme, 155. The full text of the ruling is given in Yuna Reyna and Ester Moreno Zonana, Son Yasal Düzenlemelere Göre (Istanbul: Gözlem, 2003), 554–7. Fears of another pogrom prompted another exodus from the Greek Orthodox community following the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in July 1974. There were similar fears in the Armenian community after members of the Armenian Diaspora, particularly a group calling itself the Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA), launched a terrorism campaign to try to force Turkey to admit responsibility for the massacres of 1915–16 and to cede territory for the creation of a “Greater Armenia” in eastern Anatolia. Over a period of ten years, ASALA killed forty-six people, most of them Turkish diplomats. However, with the exception of a bomb attack on the Armenian Patriarchate on 19 October 1979, there were no violent reprisals against either the Armenian or the Greek Orthodox community in Turkey. This is still the case today. For example, the Devrimci Halk Kurtulus Partisi-Cephesi (Revolutionary People’s Liberation Party-Front or DHKP-C), which is currently the most powerful violent leftist organization in Turkey, recruits primarily, though not exclusively, from Alevis. Author’s interviews with members of the DHKP-C, Istanbul, 1997–2006.

Chapter 5 1. Soner Kızılkaya, “Bir 12 Eylül bilancosu,” NTV Mag, September (2000), 77. 2. Mehmet Ali Birand, Hikmet Bila, and Rıdvan Akar, 12 Eylül Türkiye’nin Miladı (Istanbul: Doğan Kitap, 1999), 232. 3. Author’s translation, Article 4, Political Parties Law No. 2820 of 22 April 1983, published in the Official Gazette No. 18027 of 24 April 1983. 4. The predominantly Kurdish regions of Anatolia have also traditionally been amongst the most conservative. However, at the same time as Turkish nationalism and Sunni Islam were being combined in the Turkish-Islamist thesis, the Kurdish nationalist groups and organizations that began to emerge in the 1960s and 1970s were almost all led by Marxist atheists. The consequences of the Turkish state’s attempts to counter this combination of Marxism and separatist nationalism by tolerating the activities of extreme Islamists are discussed in Chapter 6. 5. Milli Kültür Raporu (Ankara: Devlet Planlama Teşkilatı, 1983). 6. Atatürkçülük (Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Basımevi, 1984). 7. Author’s translation of the Turkish text of the constitution at http://www.tbmm.gov .tr/Anayasa.htm. 8. Ibid. 9. Din Bilgisi Öğretimi (Ankara: Milli Eğitim Bakanlığı, 1981). 10. Author’s translation of the Turkish text of the constitution at http://www.tbmm.gov .tr/Anayasa.htm.

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11. Ibid. 12. For example, Din Kültürü ve Ahlak Bilgisi 4 (Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Basımevi, 2004), 34. 13. Author’s translation of Article 2 of Law No. 2876 of 11 August 1983, published in Official Gazette No 18138 of 17 August 1983. http://www.mevzuat.adalet.gov.tr/html/635 .html 14. Under Article 111 of the 1961 constitution, the MGK informed the Council of Ministers of its views. On 20 September 1971, the military-appointed technocrat government amended Article 111 so that the MGK “advised” the Council of Ministers of its views. Author’s translation of the Turkish text of the 1961 constitution at http://www.anayasa .gen.tr/1961ay.htm. 15. Author’s translation of Article 4 of the National Security Council and National Security Council Secretariat General Law No. 2945 of 9 November 1983, published in the Official Gazette No. 18218 of 11 November 1983. On 7 August 2003, Article 4 was amended and the explicit reference to Atatürk was removed, although Article 2 continued to include “the constitutional order,” which implicitly includes Kemalism, in its definition of national security. The Turkish text of the amended law is available at the MGK Web site at http://www.mgk.gov.tr/Turkce/kanun.html. 16. In addition, the military maintained a network of informal contacts with leading politicians and bureaucrats through which it could make its views known. These control mechanisms are discussed at greater length in Gareth Jenkins, Context and Circumstance: The Turkish Military and Politics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 49–55. 17. Diyanet statistics quoted in Rüşen Çakır and İrfan Bozan, Sivil, Şeffaf ve Demokratik Bir Diyanet İşleri Başkanlığı Mümkün Mü? (Istanbul: TESEV, 2005), 87. 18. Ibid., p. 73. 19. Population Planning Law No. 2827 of 24 May 1983, published in the Official Gazette No. 18059 of 27 May 1983. 20. Author’s translation from the Regulations Concerning the Appearance and Clothing of Students and Employees in Schools Run By the Ministry of Education and Other Ministries, published in the Official Gazette No. 17537 of 7 December 1981. 21. Aksoy, Başörtü-Türban: Batılaşma-Modernleşme, Laiklik ve Örtünme, 165–6. 22. The seats were distributed according to the double-threshold (provincial and national) d’Hondt system. A clerical error in the party’s list of candidates for the eastern province of Bingöl meant that ANAP was only able to take up 211 seats. 23. In addition to banning all but three parties, the junta also debarred 719 parliamentary candidates: 475 independents, eighty-nine from the PP, eighty-one from ANAP, and seventy-four from the NDP. 24. Yavuz, Islamic Political Identity in Turkey, 75. 25. Although the 1987 election was free, it could hardly be described as fair. See following. 26. Unless otherwise indicated, all economic statistics are taken from the Turkish Statistical Institute. http://www.turkstat.gov.tr. 27. Erinc Yeldan, “On the Structural Sources of the 1994 Turkish Financial Crisis: A CGE Modeling Analysis,” International Review of Applied Economics 12, no. 3 (1998): 397–414. 28. By the time of the 1987 elections, both the NDP and the PP had ceased to exist. The PP had merged with the SHP on 3 November 1985, while the NDP had been dissolved on 4 May 1986, with its parliamentary deputies joining either ANAP or the DYP. 29. For example, positive depictions of other religious and portrayals of non-Muslim religious devotion were frequently cut from foreign feature films. Author’s observations.

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30. A full list of its activities can be found on DİTİB’s Turkish/German Web site http:// www.ditib.de. DİTİB also serves as an umbrella for Turkish cultural and religious nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) active in Germany. By early 2007, a total of 870 NGOs were members of DİTİB, up from 230 in 1984. 31. Author’s translation, YÖK Decision No. 84.35.527 of 10 May 1984, quoted in Aksoy, Başörtü-Türban, 166. 32. Under Article 89 of the Turkish Constitution, the president has the right to return a law to parliament for reconsideration but has to ratify if it parliament once again approves it without making any changes. 33. Author’s translation. Aksoy, Başörtü-Türban, 180. 34. Author’s translations. İmam-Hatip Liseleri Öğretim Programları (Ankara: Milli Eğitim Basimevi, 1985), 14–17 35. The full Turkish text of the decree can be found at http://www.dpt.gov.tr/dptweb/ ekutup98/erogluza/malimev.html#VIII. 36. Sheikh Saleh Kamel of the Al Baraka Group, which was the majority shareholder in Al Baraka Türk, was a business associate of Turgut Özal’s younger brother Korkut. 37. Author’s translation, Supplementary Clause 17, Law No. 3670, published in the Official Gazette of 28 October 1990. 38. It was several years before the state monopoly on broadcasting was formally lifted. Privately owned radio stations were legalized on 8 July 1993 and privately owned television channels on 16 April 1994. 39. In August 1984, the PKK launched an armed insurgency in an attempt to create an independent Marxist ethnic Kurdish state in southeast Turkey. By the early 1990s, it effectively controlled large swathes of the countryside, particularly after dark. However, the Turkish security forces gradually regained the initiative. In 1998, Turkey forced Syria to expel PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan from his longtime headquarters in Damascus. Öcalan was eventually captured in Kenya in February 1999, brought to Turkey, tried, and sentenced to life imprisonment. In August 1999, Öcalan announced a unilateral ceasefire and declared that the organization would pursue its goals by political means. The PKK resumed its insurgency in June 2004. However, by late 2007 it posed more of a threat to law and order than to the integrity of the Turkish state. 40. Author’s translation. The Struggle against Terrorism Law No. 3713 of 12 April 1991, published in the Official Gazette No. 20843 of 12 April 1991. 41. Many of Özal’s supporters still maintain that he was murdered by opponents of his reform program. Author’s interview with a leading Naqshbandi, Istanbul, October 2005. However, Özal was very overweight, had a history of heart problems, and was clearly ailing in the months leading up to his death. Author’s observations, Ankara, January 1993 and Istanbul, March 1993. 42. Erol Yarar, A New Perspective of the World at the Beginning of the 21st Century (Istanbul: MÜSİAD, 1996), 47. 43. In 1991, Abdurrahman Dilipak, one of the RP’s leading ideologues, wrote: “It is impossible for anyone to be a Muslim and not support the introduction of the Shari’a.” Author’s translation. Abdurrahman Dilipak, Bu Din Benim Dinim Değil (Istanbul: İşaret-Ferşat, 1991), 31. 44. Author’s translation. Necmettin Erbakan, Adil Ekonomik Düzen (Ankara: Refah Partisi, 1991), 14–15. 45. Ibid. 46. Author’s translation. Abdurrahman Dilipak, Sorular, Sorunlar ve Cevaplar (1) (Istanbul: Beyan Yayınlar, 1993), 93.

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47. Ali Bulaç, İslam ve Demokrasi, Teokrasi ve Totaliterizm (Istanbul: Beyan Yayınları, 1993), 65. 48. See, for example, the memoirs of Süleyman Arif Emre, one of Erbakan’s close associates. Süleyman Arif Emre, Siyasette 35 Yıl (Istanbul: Akabe Yayınları, 1990), 224–25. 49. Author’s translation. TBMM Tutanak Dergisi, Cilt 26, Dönem 19, Yasama 2 of 25 December 1992. 50. The annual festival is named after the semi-legendary sixteenth-century Alevi poet Pir Sultan Abdal, who was hanged for his part in a rebellion against Ottoman rule. 51. A total of 122 people were charged with involvement in the massacre, of whom eightyfive were convicted and sentenced to prison terms ranging from two years to life. Kazan continued to visit the convicted in prison after he was appointed Justice Minister in June 1995. Yıldırım Türker, “Madımak!” Radikal, 3 July 2006. 52. During the festival of Eid al-Adha, Muslims traditionally sacrifice an animal—typically a sheep—in remembrance of the willingness of Ibrahim (the Jewish/Christian Abraham) to sacrifice his son Ismael (the Jewish/Christian Isaac) as related in Sura 37:102–111 of the Qur’an. The Jewish/Christian story can be found in Genesis Chapter 22. 53. Directive on Amendments to Law No. 2860 of 23 June 1983 on the Collection of Donations, published in the Official Gazette No. 21216 of 2 May 1992. 54. Including violent organizations such as the İlim group. See Chapter 6. 55. The RP’s opponents frequently claimed that the party was receiving large sums of money from Saudi Arabia. However, although there is evidence to suggest that there were some donations, they were insignificant when compared with the funds the RP raised through its support organizations. 56. Author’s interviews with RP female party workers. Istanbul, March–April 1994. 57. İzzedin Yıldırım, the leader of a less explicitly nationalist splinter from Med-Zehra, was kidnapped and murdered by the İlim group in late 1999. See Chapter 6. 58. The Gülen activist Hakan Yavuz described his appeal as: “Thus he arms his followers with an emotional map of action to translate their heart-guided conclusions into actions.” Yavuz, Islamic Political Identity in Turkey, 184. 59. Bayram Balcı, Orta Asya’da İslam Misyonerleri: Fetullah Gülen Okulları (Istanbul: İletişim, 2005), 191. 60. Author’s interviews with military officials. Istanbul, November 1996 and Ankara, March 1997. 61. To the bewilderment of long-term acquaintances. “She used to be almost an enemy of religion. She never fasted, didn’t even know how to pray and never covered her head.” Author’s interview with Nazlı Ilıcak, Istanbul, July 1995. 62. The agreement, which came into force on 1 January 1996, eliminated customs barriers between Turkey and the EU and required Turkey to adopt the same tariffs as the EU on trade with all other countries. 63. Author’s observations during visits to DYP branch offices, Istanbul, September– October 1995. 64. In the period 1993–95, Çiller also opened thirty multiple-program high schools, which included İmam Hatip departments. Halis Ayhan, Türkiye’de Din Eğitimi (Istanbul: Marmara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi Vakfı Yayınlar, 1999), 576. 65. The CHP was officially reopened on 9 September 1992. On 14 February 1995, it was merged with the SHP and the latter was dissolved. 66. In 2000 the agreement was extended to twenty-five years. 67. In July 1997, the U.S. State Department ruled that the August 1996 agreement did not violate the ILSA because Turkey had promised that the proposed pipeline would be

254

68. 69. 70.

71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82.

83. 84.

85.

86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

NOTES

used to transport Turkmen natural gas and that it would thus not directly benefit the Iranian energy sector. However, the United States did not attempt to impose sanctions when Iranian gas began to be pumped through the pipeline in 2001. The G-7 became the G-8 in 1997 with the inclusion of Russia. Author’s translation. Hürriyet, “Adak, Yahudilerle de iş yaparız,” 19 January 1997. In August–November 1996, Erbakan announced three of what he promised would eventually be five packages worth a total of $58 billion. No reliable figures are available for the total revenue they generated, but it appears to have been considerably less than $10 billion, mostly from the sale of state-owned real estate. This speech is cited in the judgment by the European Court of Human Rights, Case of Refah Partisi and Others v. Turkey, Strasbourg, 31 July 2001. Author’s interview with former Navy Commander Admiral Güven Erkaya, Istanbul, August 1998. On 16 October 1997, Bekir was sentenced to three years and nine months in prison. The military estimated that by early 1997, a total of 1,685,000 students were attending privately run Qur’an courses, a large proportion of them organized by the tariqah. Author’s interviews with RP officials, Istanbul, 20–21 March 1997. Briefing by the Turkish General Staff to the media on 11 June 1997. Cumhuriyet, 12 June 1997. There has been no independent confirmation of the military’s figures. Author’s interview with retired General Doğan Beyazit, Istanbul, March 1997. Author’s interview with leading trade union official, Istanbul, April 1997. Some accepted, some declined. Author’s interviews with former leftist extremists, Istanbul, May 1997. Author’s interviews with leading members of the RP, Istanbul, and Ankara, March–June 1997. Most of the MGV’s branches were closed in 2000, although the foundation itself was not outlawed until 2004. No reliable figures are available, However, in March 1998, there were reported to be twenty-four private courses with 2,459 students just in the Fatih neighborhood of Istanbul. Yeni Yüzyıl, “Kuran kursları yeraltına indi,” 31 March 1998. Author’s interview with General Doğan Beyazit, Istanbul, February 1998. Milliyet, “Fazilet’te Batı reçetesi,” 24 January 1999. Places at university are awarded on the basis of a universal entrance examination. However, the marks of İmam Hatip graduates are weighted to make it difficult for them to study anything except theology. Throughout the 1980s and most of the 1990s, Öcalan had divided his time between Damascus and the Syrian-controlled Bekaa Valley in Lebanon. In fall 1998, Turkey threatened to invade Syria unless it expelled Öcalan. The Syrian government eventually complied. Öcalan spent several months unsuccessfully seeking a safe haven in Russia or Europe before taking refuge in the Greek Embassy in Nairobi, from where he was handed over to Turkish special forces by the Kenyan authorities. “Of course they won’t do anything. They can’t. It is my human right to wear a headscarf.” Kavakcı, interviewed by the author, Istanbul, 4 April 1999. Extracts from the transcript of the cassettes (in Turkish). Hürriyet, “Fethullah şoku,” 20 June 1999. At the time of writing, Gülen remained in self-imposed exile in the United States. Interview with Tayyip Erdoğan in 2. Cumhuriyet Tartışmaları, ed. Metin Sever and Cem Dizdar (Ankara: Başak Yayınları, 1993). Cumhuriyet, 17 September 1994. Milliyet, 29 November 1994. Milliyet, 8 January 1996.

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93. Akit, 5 February 1996. 94. Even when asked repeatedly. Author’s interview with Erdoğan, January 2002. 95. The program was published in English and Turkish. The extracts are taken from the English-language version. Development and Democratization Program (Ankara: AKP, 2001), 5. 96. Ibid., 6. 97. Ibid., 6. 98. The Turkish parliament nevertheless approved the reform package on 3 August 2002. 99. Author’s translation. Radikal, “Erdoğan temkinli,” 30 September 2002. 100. Her Şey Türkiye İçin (Ankara: AKP, 2002), 68. 101. Author’s translation. Ibid., 78. 102. Author’s translation. Ibid., 78. 103. Author’s translation. Ibid., 78. 104. Survey by Tarhan Erdem published in Radikal, “İki parti seçmeni AKP’ye gitti,” 6 November 2002. 105. Milliyet, 15–18 November 2002. 106. Radikal, “AKP’li Arınç: Başörtüsü sorunu namus borcumuz,” 18 October 2002. 107. Milliyet, “Devlette 13 bin irticacı,” 10 December 2002. 108. Law No. 4778 on Amendments to Various Laws of 2 January 2003, published in the Official Gazette No. 24990 of 11 January 2003. 109. The Turkish text of the statement is available on the lodge’s Web site at http://www .iskenderpasa.com. 110. Law No. 4709 on Amendments to some Clauses of the Constitution of the Turkish Republic of 3 October 2001, published in the Official Gazette No. 24556 of 17 October 2001. 111. The first civilian MGK secretary general was appointed in October 2004. 112. Law No. 4963 on Amendments to Various Laws of 30 July 2003, published in the Official Gazette No. 25192 of 7 August 2003. 113. Author’s translation. Turkish General Staff Press Statement No. BN-19/03 of 14 September 2003. 114. Hürriyet, “Askerden imam hatip muhtırası,” 14 October 2003 115. Radikal, “Komutanlı hilafet paneli,” 4 March 2004. 116. Author’s translation. Turkish General Staff Press Statement No. BN-07/04 of 6 May 2004. http://www.tsk.mil.tr/10_ARSIV/10_1_Basin_Yayin_Faaliyetleri/10_1_Basin_Aciklamalari/2004/ BA_07.html 117. Turkish Daily News, 12 May 2004. 118. Radikal, “Erdoğan: YÖK’ü zorlamayız,” 4 July 2004. 119. The package included the abolition of capital punishment even in wartime and was promulgated as Law No. 5218 on the Abolition of the Death Penalty and Amendments to Various Laws of 14 July 2004, published in the Official Gazette No. 25529 of 21 July 2004. 120. Commonly known as the “Annan Plan” after Kofi Annan (born 1938), the UN Secretary General at the time. 121. Radikal, “Erdoğan: Zina gündemden kalktı,” 23 September 2004. 122. Author’s interviews with AKP officials, Istanbul and Ankara, September 2004. 123. Ahmet Davutoğlu, Stratejik Derinlik: Türkiye’nin Uluslararası Konumu (İstanbul: Küre Yayınları, 2004). 124. Not least, of course, AKP sympathies for the Muslim insurgents in Chechnya. 125. Author’s translation. Milliyet, “Erdoğan Darfurda soykırım yapılmadı,” 20 March 2006. 126. Anadolu Ajans, “Sağlık Müdürlüğü’nde imam devri,” 23 August 2004.

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127. Hürriyet, “TRT’de dini yayın patlaması,” 22 April 2006. 128. Opinion poll by the Turkish A & G company, published in Milliyet, “Halk AB’ye güvenmiyor,” 24 October 2006. 129. The full English text of the Convention is available at conventions.coe.int/Treaty/en/ Treaties/Word/005.doc. 130. Leyla Şahin vs. Turkey (Application No. 44774/98), Judgment (Strasbourg: ECHR, 2004), 25. 131. Tarhan Erdem, Milliyet, “Türban Dosyasi—1,” 27 May 2003. 132. Hürriyet, “Erdoğan Türbanda söz hakkı ulemanındır,” 16 November 2005. 133. Author’s interview with a leading member of the Naqshbandi order, Istanbul, October 2005. 134. Author’s translation. Radikal, “İlköğretim hala Darwin’siz,” 14 October 2006. 135. “We are addressing the issue and will introduce a solution very soon.” State Minister Ali Babacan in conversation with the author, Florence, May 2004. 136. Author’s translation. İlköğretim Din Kültürü Ve Ahlak Bilgisi 6 (Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Basımevi, 2005), 50. 137. Turkish Daily News, “Missionaries the new crusaders,” 24 February 2005. 138. Anka News Agency, “Diyanet’in kitabı: Hıristiyanlıgı İsa kurmadı,” 12 April 2005. 139. Through early summer 2007, elements within the AKP unsuccessfully tried to prevent Büyükanıt from becoming by launching a defamation campaign of e-mails, faxes, and stories planted in the Islamist press. Significantly, the most damning calumny that they could invent was that Büyükanıt was of Jewish origin. 140. Author’s translation, NTV, 28 August 2007. 141. When the AKP took power in November 2002, the ECHR had yet to rule on Hayrünisa Gül’s application; which she subsequently withdrew to avoid political embarrassment to her husband, who, as a member of the government, would effectively have been one of the defendants. 142. The CHP’s successful candidates included thirteen members of the DSP, who had run on the CHP ticket in order to overcome the 10 percent threshold for representation in parliament. For similar reasons, twenty of the twenty-six independent MPs were members of the pro-Kurdish Demokratik Toplum Partisi (Democratic Society Party, or DTP).

Chapter 6 1. Exceptions to this rule include the assassination of Diyarbakır Police Chief Gaffar Okkan on 25 January 2001, by the Turkish Hizbullah (see following) and the amateurish, though occasionally murderous, activities of the Islamic Raiders of the Great East– Front (İBDA-C) (see following). 2. Author’s translation. Soner Yalçın, Hangi Erbakan (Ankara: Basak Yayınları, 1994), 151. 3. Cumhuriyet, 25 February 1981 4. No details were given about the bureaucrats’ identities, although the assumption has always been that they had been appointed to their posts while the MSP was in power. Faik Bulut and Mehmet Faraç, Kod Adı: Hizbullah (Istanbul: Ozan Yayıncılık, 1999), 52. 5. The reasons for the relatively low level of violence are unclear. Former members of AkDer have attributed it to the tight control of the organization by the MSP and the latter’s belief that the time for an armed campaign had not yet come. Author interview with source close to Ak-Der, June 2004.

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6. For example, the Türkiye İslam Kurtuluş Cephesi (Turkish Islamic Salvation Front or TİKC), the Evrenesel Kardeşlik Cephesi–Şeriatcı İntikam Mangaları (Universal Brotherhood Front–Sharia Retribution Platoon or EKC-ŞİM), and the Evrensel İslam Kurtuluş Savaşının Türkiye İslam Mücahitleri (Turkish Islamic Warriors of the Universal War of Islamic Liberation or EİKSTİM) 7. The Shah of Iran fled the country on 16 January 1979. On 1 February 1979, Ayatollah Khomeini returned to Tehran from exile in Paris to head the new regime. 8. In 2004, an İlim militant using the name İ. Bagasi wrote a book entitled Kendi Dilinden Hizbullah Ve Mücadele Tarihinden Önemli Kesitler (Hizbullah in Its Own Words and Important Cross Sections from the History of the Struggle), which was circulated by email. İ. Bagasi is believed to be a pseudonym for İsa Altsoy, Velioğlu’s successor as leader of İlim. It was the first time the organization had publicly referred to itself as Hizbullah. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, İlim usually referred to itself as the Cemaat, or “Community.” 9. On 9 May 1978, Velioglu successfully applied to the court in Batman to change his official date of birth from 1952 to 1955 (Decision No. 1978/27-1978/61 of the Batman Court of First Instance). The reasons are obscure. It is possible that he was actually born in 1955. 10. Gungor was active in the MTTB until 1978, when he joined the administrative staff at the state-owned Turkish Radio and Television Corporation (TRT). He left TRT in the wake of the 12 September 1980 coup. 11. Gercüş Court of First Instance Decision No. 1981/65-1981/78 of 7 May 1981. Ercan Çitlioğlu, Tahran-Ankara Hattında Hizbullah (Ankara: Ümit Yayınları, 2001), 70. 12. Statements to police by captured militants Edip Gümüş, Cahide Kılıçaslan, Cemal Üçar, and Abdülaziz Tunç. Emin Demirel, Hizbullah (Istanbul: IQ Kültür Sanat Yayıncılık, 2001), p. 98. 13. Demirel, Hizbullah, 187. 14. Article 3 of the Iranian Constitution requires the republic to devote “all of its resources” to achieving sixteen goals, including “framing the foreign policy of the country on the basis of Islamic criteria, fraternal commitment to all Muslims, and unsparing support to the freedom fighters of the world.” Iranian Constitution, Article 3, Paragraph 16. http://www.mclibrary.edu.mn/intlaws/constitutions/iran.htm. 15. Çitlioğlu, Tahran-Ankara Hattında Hizbullah, 268. 16. Interview by Turkish journalist Ruşen Çakır with Abdülaziz Tunç, who had worked in the İlim archives. Ruşen Çakır, Derin Hizbullah (Istanbul: Metis Yayınları, 2001), 155. 17. Author interviews, Bingöl and Diyarbakır, November 2003. 18. Author interviews with journalists working for the radical Vakit newspaper, 1993–94. When the full extent of the atrocities perpetrated by İlim became public, the conservative daily Zaman attempted to blame the already persecuted Yezidi minority. Faruk Arslan and Sadullah Özcan, “Vahşette Yezidi Parmağı,” Zaman, 10 February 2000. 19. A survey by the Turkish police of 2,834 suspected İlim members or sympathizers detained in 2000 found that: 210 (7.4 percent) had no formal education, 683 (24.1 percent) had only primary school education, 348 (12.3 percent) were middle school graduates, 1,002 (35.4 percent) were high school graduates (including 200 graduates from preacher-training İmam Hatip High Schools), and 591 (20.9 percent) were graduates of universities or similar. In terms of age, 9 percent were 11–14 years old, 14 percent were 15–20 years old, 19 percent were 21–24 years old, 21 percent were 25–28 years old, 20 percent were 29–34 years old, and 17 percent were 35–41 years old. Çakır, Derin Hizbullah, 93–94.

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20. “It was accepted that the leader of the organization was implementing orders received virtually directly from God. He could never be wrong. Everything done by Hizbullah was religiously permissible, right, appropriate and guiltless.” Author’s translation of interview by Ruşen Çakır with Abdülaziz Tunç. Çakır, Derin Hizbullah, 152. 21. Sins to which potential recruits confessed included: attending village weddings, sitting next to and talking with girls, listening to music, and going to the cinema. 22. Although he was monogamous, Velioğlu encouraged polygamy amongst İlim members up to the religiously permitted maximum of four wives. Velioğlu is believed to have fathered at least six children, possibly ten. They are now being raised by other militants under assumed names. 23. The number of boys who attended Qur’an courses in southeast Turkey run by imams sympathetic to İlim is unknown but is conservatively estimated to run into the tens of thousands, many of whom later formed a pool of radicalized young men which could be tapped by other militant Islamist organizations. Author interviews, Diyarbakır and Bingöl, November 2003. 24. Interview by Ruşen Çakır with Abdülaziz Tunç. Ruşen Çakır, Derin Hizbullah (Istanbul: Metis Yayınları, 2001), 151. 25. In cities and towns, this was calculated as 10 percent of wages, salaries, or profits. In the countryside, members were expected to contribute 10 percent of the annual harvest. In areas where the organization was particularly strong, it was also able to extort contributions by imposing a 10 percent levy on the earnings of those who were not İlim members or sympathizers. İlim classed these contributions as zakat (also sometimes written in English as zaka or zakah), the alms that all Muslims who are able to do so are required to give to the needy or the cause of Allah as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. See Introduction. 26. It is likely that in the early 1990s İlim received some financial assistance from Iran. However, no firm evidence has yet emerged and the sums involved were probably relatively small. 27. As early as April 1993, Yeni Ülke, a Kurdish nationalist newspaper with close links to the PKK, ran a story claiming that the PKK was looking for an end to hostilities. Yeni Ülke, “PKK’den Hizbullah’a Çağrı,” 4 April 1993. However, Sait Çürükkaya, the former PKK commander in Diyarbakır province, denies that a ceasefire was ever agreed, claiming that the PKK leadership merely sought to create the impression that it had reached an accord with İlim for propaganda purposes. Article by Sait Çürükkaya posted on the Internet on 14 August 2004. http://www.rizgari.org/modules .php?name=News&file=article&sid=7875 28. The number of these killings is conservatively estimated to run into several thousand. Most appear to have been conducted by so-called “confessors,” captured PKK members who were offered early release from prison in exchange for carrying out an assassination. Although the killers were often identified by witnesses, none was ever prosecuted. Author interviews with security officials and victims’ relatives. Istanbul 1996 and Diyarbakır 1997. 29. In January 2000, FP Chairman Recai Kutan accused the security forces of creating Hizbullah. http://www.belgenet.com/belge/fpgb25gr.html. 30. The leaflets included an abbreviated quotation from Sura 2, Verse 190, which exhorts Muslins to: “Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not attack first. God does not like aggressors.” The leaflets omitted the phrase about not attacking first but concluded with a reminder that it was: “The duty of every Muslim like you to fight against them.” Author’s translations. Hikmet Çiçek, Hangi Hizbullah (Istanbul: Kaynak Yayınları, 2000), 21.

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31. Author’s translation. Çiçek, Hangi Hizbullah, 27. 32. On 9 July 1992, General Teoman Koman (born 1936), the head of the Milli İstibahrat Teşkilatı (National Intelligence Organization or MİT), told journalists: “This is just a name which has been given to the reaction of the local people again the PKK. There is no organization called Hizbullah.” Author’s translation. http://www.belgenet.com/ belge/fpgb25gr.html. 33. During his term as Interior Minister in the 1987–91 ANAP government, Abdülkadir Aksu (born 1944) had overseen the appointment of a large number of police officers from religious backgrounds. After ANAP’s defeat in the 1991 general election, there was an extensive purge of the Interior Ministry. Turkish law makes it very difficult to dismiss a civil servant. As a result, many of Aksu’s appointees were simply reassigned to the relative obscurity of southeast Turkey. 34. Author interviews with military sources. Diyarbakır and Ankara May 1997, Istanbul, September 1999. 35. Interviewed by Soner Yalçın in 1993, Major Cem Ersever, a recently retired former highranking member of JİTEM, said: “They always told us: ‘Hizbullah is the PKK’s enemy. My enemy’s enemy is my friend. The security forces should not interfere with Hizbullah but help them.’” Soner Yalçın, Binbaşı Ersever’in İtırafları (Istanbul: Doğan Kitap, 2004), 162. 36. Author interviews. Istanbul, August 1998 and May 1999. 37. Ay died in bizarre circumstances in March 2000, after suffering a heart attack while having sex with a Moldavian prostitute in an Istanbul hotel on the third day of Eid al-Adha. Hürriyet, “Nataşa kaçamağında ölen Hizbullahçıymış,” 25 March 2000. 38. Interview by Ruşen Çakır with Abdülaziz Tunç. Ruşen Çakır, Derin Hizbullah, 156. 39. The criteria for what constituted suspicious behavior were often very broad. For example, a report to the İlim leadership stated that: “It is clear from Hasan’s actions that he is a MİT agent. He takes the young boys to football and trains them. What should we do to Hasan? Should we shoot him?” Author’s translation. Çitlioğlu, Tahran-Ankara Hattında Hizbullah, 186. 40. Execution was usually by strangulation, although some victims were beaten to death or even buried alive The victims included Konca Kuriş (1960–98), a prominent female Islamist. Kuriş had attended some İlim meetings during the early 1990s but had become disillusioned by the group’s advocacy of violence. She had later become increasingly liberal and frequently appeared on nationwide television to argue that Muslim women were not required to cover their heads and could pray alongside men. On 16 July 1998, she was kidnapped from outside her home in the eastern Mediterranean port of Mersin. She was tortured for thirty-eight days before being strangled. Her tearful last hours were captured on a videotape which was sent to Velioğlu and then stored in the İlim archives. Her corpse was discovered on 22 January 2000, when a captured militant led police to an İlim graveyard in the province of Konya, 340 kilometers from Mersin. 41. İ. Bagasi, Kendi Dilinden Hizbullah Ve Mücadele Tarihinden Önemli Kesitler, 233–4. 42. Author interview with members of the Turkish security forces, September 2004. 43. Almost all of the other members of the İHÖ were Kurds, most of them from the province of Batman. İrfan Çağrıcı himself came from the Turkish Black Sea province of Kastamonu. 44. Emin Demirel, Terror (Istanbul: IQ Kültür Sanat Yayıncılık, 2001), 476–7. 45. In a statement to police following his capture in 1996, Çağrıcı said that he believed that the Rizai Group comprised members of the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence and Security, initially known by the acronym SAVAMA and later renamed Vezarat-e Ettela’at va Amniat-e Keshvar or VEVAK.

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46. Demirel, Teror, 479. 47. There has been speculation that Iran was looking to avenge Israel’s assassination of Sheikh Abbas Musawi, the leader of the Lebanese Hizbullah, on 16 February 1992. However, Sadan appears to have been put under surveillance several months before Musawi was killed. Demirel, Kudüs Savaşcıları (Istanbul: IQ Kultur Sanat Yayıncılık, 2003), 83–85. 48. Author interviews with Turkish counterterrorism police, Istanbul, December 2004. 49. Tevhid magazine was first published in January 1990. However, despite financial backing from Iran, it soon folded. In 1993, Kılıç started publishing the Zamana Selam newspaper, later changing its name to Selam. 50. A total of twelve Iranian dissidents are known to have been killed by, or on the orders of, Iranian intelligence in Turkey in the period 1985–96. Several other Iranian dissidents who disappeared during the same period are believed to have met the same fate. 51. Following their arrest, members of the Istanbul cell told police that in January 1993, they were asked by their Iranian handlers to arrange for the assassination of Jak Kamhi (born 1925), a leading Turkish Jewish businessman. They were provided with weapons and began to conduct surveillance. However, they were unable to agree whether to stage an ambush or use a roadside bomb. The Iranians transferred the assignment to a group of Islamists at another radical Islamist magazine called Yeryüzü. On the morning of 28 January 1993, four militants from Yeryüzü unsuccessfully tried to ambush Kamhi on his way to work. One of the militants was arrested at the scene and the others were captured soon afterwards. 52. Although he was born in Istanbul, Kısakürek’s family came from the Kurdish province of Maraş. In 1938 he met, and fell under the influence of, Abdülhakim Arvasi (1865–1943), a leading Kurdish member of the Naqshbandi order from the province of Van. İBDA-C literature cites Arvasi, Kısakürek, and Erdiş as the movement’s three ideologues. 53. Erdiş’s nom de guerre of Mirzabeyoğlu is taken from one of his grandfathers, Mirzabeyoğlu İzzet Bey, who was reportedly killed by the Kemalist security forces in 1926 during a failed Kurdish/Islamist rebellion. 54. Akıncı Yol, June 1997, 12. 55. All the quotations are the author’s translations from Dünü, Bugünü, Yarınıyla: Kısaca İBDA! (Its Past, Present, and Future: the İBDA in Brief!), a clandestine guide which appeared on a now closed İBDA website. http://members.fortunecity.com/akademya6/ makbeyan.htm. 56. This principle of individualized dialecticism is explained in Salih Mirzabeyoğlu, İBDA Diyalektiği—Kurtuluş Yolu (Istanbul: İBDA Yayınları, 1984). 57. Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj, Book 1, No. 79. 58. Akıncı Yol, May 1997, 10. For example, the organization claimed responsibility for the series of suicide bombings in Istanbul in November 2003 (see following). However, it is possible that İBDA-C sympathizers were involved in the attempted assassination of Matild Manukyan (1914–2001), the Turkish-Armenian owner of a string of brothels in Istanbul, on 27 September 1995. Manukyan survived, but her driver, Necati Akça, and bodyguard, Mehmet Urhan, were both killed. 59. For example, the eleven operations claimed by the İBDA-C in April 1997 comprised: six demolitions of busts of Ataturk, two fire-bombings of premises selling alcohol, and the bombings of an Armenian church, a bank, and a Kemalist magazine. Akıncı Yol, May 1997. 60. The riot broke out when prison officers tried to move sixty-four İBDA-C inmates who were being housed in a single wing and undergoing ideological and martial arts training under Erdiş’s supervision. Radikal, “İBDA-C Yine İsyanda,” 26 January 2000.

NOTES

261

61. For every month of 1999 through to November, the cover of the İBDA-C monthly magazine Furkan was still emblazoned with the promise that 1999 was going to be the Year of Liberation. http://members.fortunecity.com/akademyaarsiv/dergi7.htm. 62. http://www.ozgurlukprojesi.cjb.net. 63. Salih Mirzabeyoğlu, Telegram-Zihin Kontrolü (Istanbul: İBDA Yayınları, 2003). 64. Mirzabeyoğlu, Telegram-Zihin Kontrolü, 21. 65. Hürriyet, “Tarikat cinayeti zanlıları yakalandı,” 17 May 2004. 66. “Islam is both the Muslim’s state and his government. The Qur’an is his constitution and Shari’a his law.” Author’s translation from the now closed website http://seriat.net/ veciz%2002.htm. 67. Muhammad Anwar, Jochen Blaschke, and Åke Sander, State Policies Towards Muslim Minorities: Sweden, Great Britain and Germany (Berlin: Edition Parabolis, 2004). The full text of the report is available at http://www.emz-berlin.de/projekte/pdf/MusPol _Buch.pdf. 68. http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,1564,351858,00.html. 69. Such as http://www.seriat.net. 70. Where they would not only propagandize but frequently rally their audiences to join with them in chanting “Allahu ekber.” Author’s observations, Istanbul 1994–97. 71. Author’s interviews with members of the networks, Istanbul, May 1997, and Izmit, September 1999. 72. Also known as Muhammad Atef, al Masri was killed by a U.S. hellfire missile in November 2001. 73. Author’s copies of transcripts of police interrogations of some of the arrested militants and their later statements in court. A comprehensive, and largely reliable, account of the plot is given in Şaban Arslan and Devrim Tosunoğlu, Dehşet Senaryosu (Istanbul: Güncel Yayıncılık, 2004). 74. It was the third time in less than twenty years that the Neve Shalom synagogue had been targeted. On Sunday, 1 March 1992, two suspected Islamist militants hurled a hand grenade at the building causing minor damage but no casualties. On 6 November 1986, two members of the Palestinian Abu Nidal group stormed into the synagogue during Saturday morning prayers, killing twenty-three worshippers and seriously wounding five others. 75. On 16 February 2007, all of the captured leading members of the group, including Yiğit, İlhan, Ersöz, and al-Saqa, received life sentences. 76. There are around 200 Masonic lodges and more than 13,000 freemasons in Turkey, including many leading politicians, bureaucrats, and members of the media, military, and judiciary. Freemasons are viewed with great suspicion by Turkish Islamists and are often lumped together with Zionists and Christians in an improbable conspiracy which is allegedly secretly running the world. 77. In late 2007, the trial of Vural and several associates was still continuing. However, Vural continued to insist that he and Doğruel had been solely responsible for planning and executing the attack and had not received any assistance from radical groups inside or outside Turkey. 78. Testimony of Harun İlhan during his trial. In the aftermath of the November 2003 bombings, many, led by Turkish Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan, described them as attacks on Turkey. This is not true. The targets were Jews and British interests.

262

NOTES

Conclusion 1. “In my grandfather’s day, we worried about being hanged, and in my father’s about going to prison. I’ve also had problems, but it has usually involved me sitting drinking tea in a police station for a few hours and being home by evening.” Leading member of the Naqshbandi order, interviewed by the author. Istanbul, October 2004. 2. Such as the veneration of saints and the sanctity of place in Islamic shrines and tombs. 3. Author’s conversation with Bülent Arınç, Istanbul, September 2003. Many conservative Anatolian businessmen underwent a similar process when they began exporting in the 1980s and early 1990s and found themselves establishing not only contacts but friendships with their counterparts in Europe and the United States. Author’s interview with leading Islamist businessman, Konya, May 2003. 4. The extent to which the Turkish state is truly secular is open to debate. The principle of secularism is enshrined in the constitution and none of the Turkish statute book is based on the Shari’a. However, neither is it possible to call the state fully secular when, through the Diyanet, it supports and controls the propagation and practice of a specific religious belief or when, through compulsory education in Sunni Islam, it forces all children to be inculcated with the same belief. Perhaps most bewildering is the membership of an ostensibly secular state of the OIC, which defines itself as being an organization of “Islamic countries” committed to “the development of the Ummah.” See the Web site of the OIC’s Federation of Consultants from Islamic Countries (FCIC), which is based in Istanbul: www.fcic-org.com. 5. AKP members of parliament in conversation with the author, Istanbul, June 2006. 6. Since the AKP took power in 2002, the levels of nepotism and corruption in the awarding of state contracts have steadily increased to the point where they are comparable with previous administrations. 7. Author’s observations, Ankara, September 2005. In Turkish, the word kardeş, which was used to describe Pakistan, can mean either “brother” or “sister.” 8. Author’s interviews with AKP members, Istanbul and Ankara 2003–7. 9. These are discussed in more detail in the Introduction.

Index

Abbasid dynasty, 20 Abdülaziz, 53, 57 Abdülhamit II, Sultan, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 74, 131 Abdullah Beyefendi, 85 Abdullah Cevdet, 66, 67 Abdülmecit, Crown Prince, 89 Abdülmecit, Sultan, 50, 53, 230n17 Abode of Islam (Dar al-Harb), 9, 210 Abode of War (Dar al-Islam), 9, 22, 25, 210 Abu Dawud, 220n11 Action Army, 72, 131 Adak, Fehim, 161 Adhan (call to prayer), 99, 100, 117, 122, 159 Afghanistan, 18, 23, 183, 184, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209 Ahmedi, 27 Ahmet Anzavur, 87 Ahmet Cemal. See Cemal Pasha Ahmet Cevdet Pasha, 54, 59 Ahmet Niyazi (Major), 69 Ahmet Rıza, 65, 67, 233n62, 234n78 Akbulut, Yıldırım, 152 Akça, Necati, 260n58 Akçura, Yusuf, 67, 74, 76, 233n70 Akdaş, Habib, 206, 207, 208 Akgönenç, Oya, 164, 165 akıncı (raider), 27, 28 Akkoyunlu, 37 Aksoy, Muammer, 199 Aksu, Abdülkadir, 259n33 Alevis, 18, 37, 38–39, 64, 89, 90, 93, 103, 104, 108, 127, 129, 130, 139–40, 143, 149, 156, 179, 201, 222n48, 227n66, 227n69, 228n70, 228n71, 228n72,

228n73, 228n75, 241n48, 242n71, 250n95, 254n50 Algeria, 27, 156 Ali, nephew of Prophet Muhammad, 38, 39, 219n5, 219n6 Ali Pasha, 52, 54, 56, 57 Ali Rıza, 82 Ali Suavi, 57 Allenby, Edmund (General), 78 Alp, Tekin, 102, 244n105 Alparslan, Sultan, 21–22 Al Qaeda, 183, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 221n26 Altıkulaç, Tayyar, 145 Altsoy, İsa, 195, 257n8 Anadolu Ajans, 121 Anatolian Tigers. See Islamist bourgeoisie, rise of Anıtkabir, 120, 167, 204 Annan, Kofi, 255n120 anti-Semitism, 106, 106–7, 112–13, 132, 156, 160, 161, 176, 199, 201, 206–10, 229n81, 256n139 Arab Revolt, 78–79 Arınç, Bülent, 170, 172, 181 Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA), 237n137, 250n94 Armenians, 18, 22, 24, 26, 32, 33, 34, 36, 58, 60, 63–64, 66, 70, 72, 73, 76, 78, 79–80, 83, 84, 85, 92, 105, 106, 107, 122, 180, 225n25, 227n60, 227n62, 232n54, 233n66, 234n80, 235n91, 237n132, 237n134, 237n136, 237n137, 239n23, 250n94, 260n58, 260n59 Arvasi, Abdülhakim, 260n52 Askeri class, 28, 40, 42, 226n48 Aslan, Alparslan, 180

264

INDEX

Aslan, Tamer, 197 Assad, Bashar al-, 175 Asset Tax (Varlık Vergisi), 113–14 Association for Human Rights and Solidarity with the Oppressed (Mustaza-Der), 195 Association for the Struggle against Communism (KMD), 128, 130 Atalay, Beşir, 170 Atatürk: Mustafa Kemal, 17, 81–109; passim, 114, 116, 117, 120, 121, 123, 126, 127, 131, 132, 136, 138, 140, 142, 143, 144, 145, 147, 149, 161, 167, 168, 172, 173, 182, 202, 213, 215, 234n73, 238n1, 238n3, 238n4, 238n5, 238n12, 238n17, 239n22, 251n15, 260n59 Atıf Hoca, 96 Austria-Hungary, 51, 58, 68, 70, 77, 230n14 Ay, Zekeriya, 192 Aytufan, Rüştü, 199, 200 Baba Ishaq, 24 Baba Ishaq revolt, 24, 225n37 Bab-ı Âli Baskını (Raid on the Sublime Porte), 75 Baç, Gurcan, 207, 208 Bahçeli, Devlet, 182 Balkan War, First, 75, 76, 79, 234n76 Balkan War, Second, 235n104 Bangladesh, 160 Banker Kastelli, 146 Başbuğ, İlker, 173 Bayar, Celal, 114, 116, 124 Baykal, Deniz, 160, 169 Bayru, Mikalil, 190 Bayur, Yusuf Hikmet, 120 Bedawi, Abdul Ghani, 198 Bedel-i asker, 53 Bektashi, religious order, 40, 47, 66, 108, 222n48, 228n74 Berat system, 62 Berlin, Treaty of, 58–59 Beth Israel Synagogue, 207 Beyazit I, Sultan, 28, 29 Beyazit II, Sultan, 33, 37 Bin Ladin, Osama, 206, 221n26 Borkluce Mustafa, 30

Bosnia, 36, 57, 70, 155, 156, 199, 200, 205, 220n13 Boussios, Giorgos, 70 Bozkurtlar. See Grey Wolves Britain, 47, 51, 53, 55, 58, 60, 68, 73, 77, 78, 79, 85, 87, 88, 89, 90, 114, 121, 123, 156, 167, 207, 229n1, 230n12, 230n14, 230n17, 231n33, 231n38, 232n41, 233n58, 233n61, 236n124, 239n21, 239n22, 240n47, 241n57, 242n73, 246n4, 261n78 Bukhari al-, 4, 220n11 Bush, George W., 176 Buyruk, 38 Büyükanıt, Yaşar, 180 Büyükdeniz, Adnan, 177, 181 Çabuk, Mesut, 207 Çağlayangil, İhsan Sabri, 135 Çağrıcı, İrfan, 195, 196, 197, 198 Çakmak, Fevzi, 116 Çakmaklı,Yücel, 129 Çaldıran, Battle of, 37 caliphate, 2, 3, 12, 17, 20, 21, 45, 46, 56, 59, 60, 77, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 92, 93, 94, 95, 103, 108, 114, 138, 173, 203, 219n3, 224n20, 227n63, 231n38, 232n41, 242n68 Calp, Necdet, 146 Canning, Viscount Stratford, 53 Capitulations, 41, 62, 70, 92, 228n80 Cavit, 243n92 Çelik, Hüseyin, 179 Cemâl Bey (Colonel), 72 Cemal Pasha, 68, 69, 75, 76, 78, 80 Çerkes Ethem, 87, 88 Çetinkaya, Hüseyin, 190 Chechnya, 205, 206, 208, 255n124 China, 3, 18, 153 Christian missionary activity, 61, 64, 179, 180, 233n58, 233n61 Çiçek, Cemil, 180 Çiller, Tansu, 153, 159, 160, 163 Cohen Moise. See Alp, Tekin Committee for Union and Progress (İTC), 65–79, 80, 82, 83, 84, 85, 98, 234–235n72, 234n73, 234n74, 234n78, 234n81, 234n87, 236n107, 236n115, 236n125, 239n22, 241n60, 243n92

INDEX

Comte Auguste, 65 Constitutional Court, 125, 131, 150, 152, 162, 164, 165, 167, 170, 182 Coşan, Nureddin, 171 Council of State (Danıştay), 161 countryside, tensions with city, 22–23, 24, 30 Crimean War, 52, 55 Crypto-Christians, 64 Çürükkaya, Sait, 258n27 Cyprus is Turkish Association (KTC), 121–22 Cyprus, 121, 133, 135, 156, 174, 175, 178, 223n6 Dalar, Ubeydullah, 192 Dalmaz, Muzaffer, 197 Danıştay. See Council of State Darfur, 176 Dashnaks, 63–64, 79, 233n56 Davutoğlu, Ahmet, 175 Dede Korkut, Book of, 19–20, 39 Demir, Oğuz, 199, 200 Demirağ, Nur, 114, 116 Demirel, Süleyman, 127–28, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 142, 146, 148, 153, 163, 170 Demiröz, Şenol, 177 Democratic Left Party (DSP), 148, 153, 159, 163, 164, 165, 256n142 Democratic Turkey Party (DTP), 163 Democrat Party (DP), 114, 115, 116, 117–24, 125, 126, 128 Dervish Mehmet, 102–3 Dervish Wahdeti, 71, 72 Devşirme, 35–36, 40 Dhikr, 14, 96 Dinçerler, Vehbi, 151 Dink, Hrant, 180 Din Tabrizi, Shams al-, 23 Din-ü devlet, 41 Diyanet, 92, 96, 99, 115, 118, 127, 129, 133, 137, 143, 145, 149, 150, 158, 162, 163, 173, 179, 246n15, 262n4. See also Turkish-Islamic Union for Religious Affairs (DİTİB) Doğruel, Nihat, 208, 209 Doukas, 30 Durman, Hüseyin. See Velioğlu, Hüseyin Dürrîzade Abdullah Beyefendi, 85

265

Dursun, Turhan, 197, 198 Ecevit, Bülent, 133, 134, 135, 142, 148, 159, 164, 165, 167, 168, 172 Edib, Eşref, 116 Egypt, 33, 47, 51, 78, 160, 186, 199, 220n13, 229n1, 230n13, 236n124 Elaltuntaş, Gökhan, 207 Elkatmış, Mehmet, 176 Emeç, Çetin, 196, 197, 198 Enver Pasha, 68, 69, 75, 76, 79, 80, 83, 236n115, 237n131, 237n138 Erbakan, Necmettin, 131–32, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 142, 145, 148, 155, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 249n81, 254n70 Ercan, Sinan, 197 Erdiş, Salih İzzet, 201–3 Erdoğan Emine, 181 Erdoğan, Tayyip, 165–66, 167, 168, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 180, 181, 261n78 Ergun, Sadettin Nüzhet, 108 Erim, Nihat, 131 Ersever, Cem, 259n35 Ersöz, Adnan, 206, 208 Erzurum Congress of, 84, 85 Esat, Mahmut, 107 European Economic Community (EEC), 131, 135, 147, 155. See also European Union (EU) European National View Organization (AMGT), 137, 145, 157, 203 European Union (EU), 155, 159, 160, 164, 168, 169, 174, 175, 176, 177–78, 215, 216 Evren, Kenan, 141, 142, 145, 146, 147, 148, 150 Farmer’s and Peasant’s Party (ÇKP), 116 Fatherland and Freedom organization, 82, 234n73 Fatwa, 41, 42, 66, 72, 77, 85, 86, 87, 89, 93, 150, 203, 236n116 Felicity Party (SP), 167, 169 Feriha Tevfik, 101 Fermans, 40 Fevzi Pasha, 86 Feyzioğlu, Turhan, 133 fez: made compulsory, 50; outlawed, 94

266

INDEX

France, 47, 48, 49, 52, 53, 54, 55, 60, 77, 85, 87, 90, 105, 106, 112, 113, 174, 228n80, 230n17, 233n58, 233n61, 233n71, 236n124, 242n73, 246n5 Freedom Party (HP), 123 Freemasons, 132, 208, 261n76 Free Republican Party (SCF), 102, 107 Fuad Pasha, 52, 56, 57 Galata bankers, 55 Gastarbeiter, 137, 145, 150 Genç Kalemlar, 75 Gendarmerie Intelligence and Struggle Against Terrorism (JİTEM), 191, 193 Germany, 77, 106, 112, 113, 137, 145, 150, 157, 195, 203, 204, 223n2, 236n115, 239n21, 246n2, 246n4, 249n85, 249n86, 252n30 Ghazali, Abu Hamid al-, 13 ghazi thesis, 25–29, 225n34, 225n35, 226n43 Gholizade, Abbas, 197, 200 Gibbons, Herbert A., 26 Gladstone, William Ewart, 231n33 Gobineau, Arthur, 17, 100 Gökalp, Ziya, 76–77, 90, 166, 236n108 Gorbani, Ali Akbar, 197, 198 Great Unity Party (BBP), 158 Greece, 33, 48, 70, 75, 83, 91, 105, 106, 121, 133, 135, 232n52, 234n79, 246n5 Greek Orthodox Christians, 22, 24, 31, 32, 33, 49, 58, 60, 63, 64, 66, 70, 72, 76, 91, 92, 105, 106, 107, 122, 139, 179, 225n24, 224.25, 227n56, 227n59, 230n17, 233n60, 241n57, 241n59, 250n94 Green Army, 240n43 Grey Wolves, 130, 184. See also Nationalist Action Party (MHP) Gül, Abdullah, 166–67, 170, 172, 175, 181, 182 Gül, Hayrinüsa, 167, 181, 256n141 Gülen movement, 158, 159, 165, 253n58. See also Nurcu movement Gülen, Fethullah, 158–59, 165, 254n88 Gülhane Hatt-ı Şerifi (Noble Rescript of the Rose Garden), 50, 51, 52, 58, 230n10 Gümüş, Edip, 194

Gümüşpala, Ragıp, 126, 127 Günaltay, Şemsettin, 115, 122 Güngör, Fidan, 186, 187, 192 Gürsel, Cemal, 124, 125 Gürses, Muharrem, 129 Güven, İhsan, 203 Güven, Sibel, 203 Haji Bektash, 40, 228n75 hajj, 2, 13, 39, 60, 115, 128, 149, 198, 221n27 Hajjaj, Muslim ibn al-, 4 Halide, Edip, 78 Hamas, 176 Hamidiye regiments, 63 Hanafi school of Islamic jurisprudence, 41, 220n13, 232n49 Hanbali school of Islamic jurisprudence, 3, 5, 220n13 Hasan, son of Ali, 3 Hasan Fehmi Efendi, 54 Hatay, 105, 238n18 Hat law, 95–96 Hatt-i Hümayun (Reform Edict), 52, 53, 54, 58, 62, 63, 64, 230n18 headscarf. See Islam: and clothing Hijaz, 35, 46, 60, 78, 231n38, 240n33 Hilafet Devleti. See Union of Islamic Communities and Congregations (İCCB) Hilâfet Ordusu (Army of the Caliphate), 87 Hijra, 2, 81 Hizbullah (Turkish), 185–95, 211; ideology, strategy, and tactics of, 186–87, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 195; organization, 187–88, 189, 190; origins of, 186; rebuilding of, 195; recruitment by, 188–89; relations with Iran, 187; relations with Turkish state, 191–92, 193; strength of, 188, 193–94, 195; unravelling of, 193–95; war with Menzil, 192, 193; war with PKK, 190–91, 192, 193 Homo Islamicus, 154 Hunchak Party, 63, 232n55 Hürriyet, 196, 197 Hüseyin Cahid, 74 Hüseyin Hilmi, 71, 72 Huseyin, son of Ali, 3

INDEX

Hussein bin Ali, 78, 236n124, 136–237n125 Ibn Battutah, 219n7 Ibn Maja, 220n11 Ibrahim Pasha, 51, 230n13 İbrahim Şinasi Efendi, 57 İbrahim Temoi, 67 Ibtidâî schools, 61 Idâdî schools, 61 Idealists’ Hearths, 130 İhsanoğlu, Ekmeleddin, 175 Ijma (consensus), 5 Ijtihad (theological interpretation), 3, 4, 5, 6 İlhan, Harun, 207, 208 Ilıcak, Nazlı, 164, 165, 253n61 İlim. See Hizbullah (Turkish) İmam Hatip courses, 115, 117 İmam Hatip schools, 93, 99, 117–18, 126–27, 128–29, 136, 145, 149–50, 151, 159, 162, 163, 164–65, 166, 169, 172, 173, 178, 179, 253n64, 254n84, 257n19 Imperial Ottoman Bank, 55, 62–63, 70 Independence Tribunals, 87, 94, 96, 97, 98, 240n41, 243n76, 243n83 Independent Industrialists’ and Businesspersons’ Association (MÜSİAD), 154 India, 3, 100, 199, 224n21, 231n38 Indonesia, 3, 160 İnönu, Erdal, 148 İnönü İsmet (İsmet Pasha), 90, 102, 105, 107, 111, 114, 116, 122, 126, 133, 148, 246n12 Iran, 13, 19, 20, 21, 23, 36, 37, 38, 160, 161, 175–76, 183, 184, 185, 187, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 205, 206, 215, 227n64, 241n48, 253n67, 257n7, 257n14, 258n26, 259n45, 260n47, 260n49, 260n50, 260n51 Iraq, 20, 61, 136, 155, 160, 171, 172, 175, 176, 190, 208, 209, 210, 211, 216, 217, 232n47, 238n18, 240n47, 241n48, 242n73 Irmak, Sadi, 133 İshak Süküti, 67 Islam: and architecture, 42–43; and clothing, 11, 26, 44, 49–50, 69, 70,

267

95, 101, 138–39, 145, 150–51, 152, 159, 163, 165, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 174, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 217, 222n37, 222n39, 244n101, 247n28, 250n90, 253n61, 254n86, 259n40; and depictions of living creatures, 244n94; as ideology of protest, 154; and secularism, compatibility of, 14–15; and slavery, 231n24. See also Qur’an: precepts of Islamic banking, 11, 136, 151–52, 154, 155, 169, 222n40, 231n26 Islamic broadcasting, 149, 155, 162, 177 Islamic cinema, 129 Islamic Federal State of Anatolia (AFID), 203 Islamic Law. See Shari’a Islamic Movement Organization (İHÖ), 195–98, 200 Islamic publications, proliferation of, 116, 129, 149, 154 Islamic Raiders of the Great East–Front (İBDA-C), 200–203, 204, 247n17 Islamist bourgeoisie, rise of, 153–54, 162, 163, 214 Islamist media, 155, 159, 162 Ismail, 219n6 Ismail, Shah, 37, 227n64 İsmail, Enver. See Enver Pasha Ismailis, 219n6, 232n53 Israel, 132, 136, 138, 156, 160–61, 199, 176, 207, 208, 209, 260n47 Istanbul bombings (2003). See Al Qaeda Istanbul Expres, 121 Jafari school of Islamic jurisprudence, 220n12 Janissaries, 35, 36, 40, 44, 47, 48 Janjaweed, 176 Jerusalem Warriors (Kudüs Savaşcıları), 198–200 Jews, 2, 7, 8, 18, 24, 29, 31, 32, 33–34, 43, 58, 60, 62, 70, 90, 106–7, 112–13, 122, 132, 161, 199, 206, 207–8, 209, 221n23, 221n26, 222n31, 224n18, 229n81, 230n12, 244n105, 246n4, 253n52, 256n139, 260n51, 261n78 Jihad, 8–9, 13, 27, 38, 77, 78, 93, 130, 138, 183, 186, 192, 195, 203, 205,

268

INDEX

206, 210, 211, 221n27, 221n28, 240n34. See also Qur’an: precepts of Jilani, Abd al-Qadir al-, 13 JİTEM. See Gendarmerie Intelligence and Struggle Against Terrorism Jizya, 7, 22, 28, 35, 36, 40, 63 Justice and Development Party (AKP), 167–82, 214, 215, 216, 217 Justice Party (AP), 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134; attitudes of supporters, 169, 178; confrontations with the secular establishment, 170, 172–73, 180, 181–82; domestic policy, 170, 172, 173, 174, 176, 180, 182, 215; economic policies, 177, 182; election victory (2002), 168–69; election victory (2007), 181–82; foundation, 167; Ottoman nostalgia, 175, 215; program before taking power, 168; relations with EU, 172, 174–75, 176, 177–78, 215, 216; relations with other Muslim countries, 175–76, 215, 216; relations with United States, 171–72, 175, 176, 216–17 Ka’bah, the, 2, 12, 13 Kadızade Mehmet, 44 Kamhi Jak, 260n51 Kamil Pasha, 71 Kaplan, Cemalettin, 203 Kaplan, Metin, 203–4 Karaaslan, Şerif, 190 Karabıyıklıoğlu Hasan Halife Şahkulu, 37 Karadayı, Hakkı, 164 Karahisarithis, Pavlos, 241n59 Kara Kemal, 243n90 Karakol Cemiyeti (Guard Association), 83, 243n90 Karatepe, Şükrü, 161, 164 Kars, Treaty of (1921), 239n23 Kashmir, 156, 199, 206 Kavakcı, Merve, 165 Kazan, Şevket, 156, 160, 164 Kazıdadelı, 44 Kazim, Musa al-, 219n6 Keçeciler, Mehmet, 152 Kemalism, 26, 81, 83, 84, 102, 103, 104, 108, 109, 111, 117, 118, 120, 124, 125, 127, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133,

138, 139, 142, 143, 144, 149, 150, 162, 166, 168, 170, 173, 178, 183, 202, 203, 213, 214, 215, 225n35, 242n73, 244n104, 251n15, 260n53, 260n59 Kemalpaşazade, 38 Kent, Necdet, 246n5 Keshmiri, Abdulrezzak, 199 Kılıç, Hasan, 200 Kılıç Ali, 240n39 Kısakürek, Necip Fazıl, 116, 201, 260n52 Kışlalı, Ahmet Taner, 200 Kızılbaşı belief system, 38–39 Kızılbaşı revolts, 35, 36–38, 39, 40, 139 Koman Teoman, 259n32 Köprülü Mehmet Fuad, 26, 28 Kotku, Mehmet Zahit, 131, 144, 149 Kubilay, Mustafa Fehmi, 103 Küçük Kaynarca, Treaty of, 45, 46, 230n17 Küçük Mehmet Sait Pasha, 234n81 Kuleli Incident, 53 Kumar, Yaspar, 199 Kuncak, İlyas, 208 Kurdistan Free Life Party (PJAK), 175 Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), 152, 156, 165, 175–76, 187, 190, 191, 192, 193, 216 Kuriş, Konca, 259n40 Kutan, Recai, 164, 166, 167, 169, 258n29 Kutlu, Fehmi Hüsrev, 173 Kuva-yı İnzıbatiye (Disciplinary Forces), 87 Kuva-yı Muhammediye (Muhammad’s Forces), 87 Kuwait, 151, 155, 171 Land, Real Estate, and Free Enterprise Party (TESTP), 116 Lausanne, Treaty of, 89–90, 91, 104, 105, 107, 139, 238n19, 241n53 Lawrence, T. E., 78 Le Bon, Gustave, 233n71 London, Treaty of (1840), 230n14 London, Treaty of (1913), 75 Madımak Hotel, 156 madrasas, 23, 29, 42, 49, 53, 71, 77, 92, 93, 96, 234n87 Mahdi, 102

INDEX

Mahdi, Muhammad al-, 219n6 Mahmud II, 45, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 99 Mahmut Şevket Pasha, 72, 73 Makal, Mahmut, 247n21 Makbule, 82 Malaysia, 3, 160 Maliki school of Islamic jurisprudence, 3, 5, 220n13 Manichaeism, 20, 38, 39, 232n47 Manukyan, Matild, 260n58 Manzikert, Battle of, 21–22, 30 Marshall Plan, 246n12 Marwick, Victor, 199 Masnavi, 23, 225n28 Masri, Abu Hafs al-, 206 Mecca, 2, 12, 13, 35, 39, 45, 46, 49, 115, 128, 149, 198, 231n38 Mecelle, 54, 59 Medina, 2, 35, 45, 46, 49, 60, 156, 219n2; constitution of, 2, 156, 219n2 Med-Zehra, 158, 253n57 Mehmet II, Sultan, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 138, 226n56, 227n59 Mehmet V, 72, 77 Mehmet Kamil Pasha, 234n81 Mehmet Rifat, 86 Mehmet Talat. See Talat Pasha Mehmet Vahdettin (Sultan Mehmet VI), 85, 86, 89, 239n21, 240n33 Mehmet Vehbi, 89 Melen, Ferit, 132 Menderes, Adnan, 114, 116, 117, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124 Menemen Incident, 102–3 Menzil Group, 186, 187, 190, 192, 193 Meshaal, Khaled, 176 Mevlana. See Rumi, Mevlana Jalal al’Din Mevlevi: religious order, 4, 14, 24, 66, 96, 225n29, 228n71 Michael the Syrian, 22 military service, 52, 53, 69, 73, 103, 123, 124, 235n96 Millet system, 32–35, 85, 227n57, 227n58 Milli Görüş. See National View Milli İktisat. See National Economy Mirzabeyoğlu, Salih. See Erdiş, Salih İzzet Misak-ı Milli (National Pact), 85

269

MİT. See National Intelligence Organization Mithat Pasha, 58 Mongolia, 18, 19 Mongols, 23, 24, 25, 223n5, 224n20, 225n31, 226n38 Moradi, Abdul-Ali, 200 Motherland Party (ANAP), 146, 147, 148, 151, 152, 153, 157, 158, 159, 160, 163, 165, 167, 169, 215n23, 215n28, 251n22, 259n33 Muhammad, Prophet, 2–4, 7, 9, 11, 12, 14, 19, 20, 29, 31, 39, 45, 81, 86, 87, 123, 156, 215, 219n5, 219n6, 220n16, 220n18, 221n27, 221n28, 222n39, 224n20, 225n29, 225n34, 231n30 Mumcu, Erkan, 170 Mumcu, Uğur, 199 Murat IV, Sultan, 44 Murat V, Sultan, 57 Musawi, Sheikh Abbas, 260n47 MÜSİAD. See Independent Industrialists’ and Businesspersons’ Association Muslim Brotherhood, 187. See also Qutb, Sayyid Mustafa IV, 47 Mustafa Kemal. See Atatürk Mutazilah, 220n8 Namık Kemal, 56–57, 58, 62 Naqshbandi: religious order, 14, 48, 60, 71, 88, 93, 94, 95, 96, 102, 115, 116, 131, 144, 146, 149, 151, 158, 166, 171, 179, 183, 229n3, 260n52 national cinema, 129 National Development Party (MKP), 114, 116 National Economy, 76. See also Asset Tax National Intelligence Organization (MİT), 191, 193, 259n32 Nationalist Action Party (MHP), 130, 132, 133, 134, 158, 165, 167, 168, 182, 184 Nationalist Democracy Party (MDP), 146 Nationalist Labor Party (MÇP), 148, 153, 157. See also Nationalist Action Party (MHP)

270

INDEX

National Order Party (MNP), 131–32 National Salvation Party (MSP), 132, 133, 134, 135–38, 142, 145, 146, 166, 183, 184, 185, 186, 200, 201, 203 National Security Agency, 203 National Security Council (MGK), 126, 144, 161, 162, 172, 248n51, 251n14, 251n15, 255n111 National Turkish Student Union (MTTB), 130, 136, 166, 170, 184, 185, 186, 257n10 National View, 135, 137, 157, 214. See also Erbakan, Necmettin National Youth Foundation (MGV), 157, 163 Nation Party (MP), 116, 120, 121, 128 Nâzim Pasha, 75 Nesin, Aziz, 156 Neve Shalom Synagogue, 207, 261n74 New Ottomans. See Young Ottomans New Turkey Party (YTP), 126, 128 Nigeria, 160 Nizâmiye courts, 54 Noel, Edward, 240n47 Notaras, Lucas, 32 Nur, 71, 119, 168 Nurcu movement, 119, 128, 131, 133, 134, 158, 165, 167 Nursi, Said, 119–20, 123, 125, 133, 158, 168, 194 Nutuk, 81, 95, 96, 98, 239n21, 239n22, 244n98 Obysi, Hamed, 209 Öcalan, Abdullah, 165, 176, 252n39, 254n85. See also Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) Oghuz Turks, 19, 20, 21, 22, 29 Okan Gaffar, 194, 195, 256n1 Önal, Kamil, 121 Örf î law, 40, 41, 228n78, 228n79 Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC), 135, 136, 175, 249n76, 262n4 Orhan, 27, 29 Orkhon inscriptions, 18, 19 Osman, 25, 29, 31, 225n32, 225n38 Ottomanism, 66, 67, 70, 73, 74, 216, 233n70 Ottoman Freedom Society (OHC), 68 Ottoman Unity Society (İOC), 65

Özal, Ahmet, 152 Özal, Hafize, 145, 169 Özal, Korkut, 145 Özal, Semra, 149 Özal, Turgut, 145, 146–47, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 158 Özbilgin, Mustafa Yücel, 180 Özkök, Hilmi, 170, 172, 173, 180, 181 Özmen, Ferhan, 198–200 Pakistan, 160, 183, 184, 205, 206, 208, 209, 216, 262n7 Palestine, 43, 51, 136, 156, 230n17, 237n132, 246n4, 261n74 Pan-Islamism, 59–60, 76, 158, 231n38 Pan-Turkism, 67, 74–75, 80, 112, 130, 153 Paris, Treaty of, 52 Party for the Protection of Islam (İKP), 116 Party of Freedom and Entente (HİF), 75 Party of Ottoman Liberals (OAF), 70, 71 Patriotic Alliance (İttifak-ı Hamiyyet), 56 Penal Code, Article 163 of, 115–16, 118, 125, 152 Penal Code, Article 312 of, 166 People’s Houses (Halk Evleri), 108 Peoples of the Book, 7–8, 9, 28, 36, 221n22, 230n15 Pilavoğlu, Kemal, 120 pilgrimage. See hajj Polatkan Hasan, 124 population exchange (1923–24), 91–92 population resettlement, 31, 33, 37, 79, 91, 103, 105, 243n76 Populist Party (HP), 146 positivism, 65, 66, 84, 119 Progressive Republican Party (TCF), 94–95, 97–98 Protestants, 64, 179, 227n58 Purification Protection Party (AKP), 116 Qadis (religious judges), 23, 41–42, 77 Qisas, 7 Quraby, Abdullah Hussein al-, 199 Qur’an courses, 115, 118, 127, 143, 145, 150, 162, 163, 179, 254n74, 258n23 Qur’an, precepts of: on clergy, 12; on crime and punishment, 7; on excessive aggressiveness in war, 9;

INDEX

on female clothing, 11; on finance and interest payments, 11; on gender issues, 10–11; on personal obligations, 12–13; on political systems, 5–6, 11–12; on slavery, 9–10; on treatment of and attitudes to non-Muslims, 7–8, 9; on war and jihad, 8–9 Qutb, Sayyid, 189 Rabitat al-Alam al-Islami, 145 Raiders’ Association (Ak-Der), 137, 184, 185, 201 Rajabi, Zahra, 200 Reaya, 28, 40, 226n48 religious broadcasting, 117 religious education, 23, 29, 42, 48, 49, 60–62, 64, 82, 92–93, 99, 115, 116, 117, 125, 129, 135, 143, 151, 173, 179, 217, 232n49, 233n61. See also Ibtidâî schools; Idâdî schools; İmam Hatip courses; İmam Hatip schools; madrasas; Qur’an courses; rüşdiye schools; Sultânî colleges religious foundations, 23, 29, 42, 49, 77, 92, 107, 118, 120, 137, 139, 157, 159, 170, 180, 194, 195, 228n71 religious nongovernmental organizations, 118–19 Republican National Party (CMP), 120, 123 Republican Peasants’ National Party (CKMP), 126, 128, 130. See also Nationalist Action Party (MHP) Republican People’s Party (CHP), 92, 98, 102, 107, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 134, 139, 148, 160, 169, 173, 181, 182, 248n40, 253n65, 256n142 Republican Reliance Party (CGP), 132, 133, 134 Reşit Pasha, 50, 51, 52 Rifāīyah, religious order, 60, 232n40 Risale-i Nur, 119 Rumi, Mevlana Jalal al’Din, 14, 23–24 rüşdiye schools, 48, 49, 61 Rushdie, Salman, 156 Russia, 45, 47, 51, 52, 58, 59, 63, 67, 68, 77, 79, 80, 107, 175, 205, 229n86,

271

229n87, 230n17, 233n70, 236n115, 239n23, 240n43, 240n44, 246n4, 254n68, 254n85 Sabbatai Zevi, 43–44 Sabiyah (Seveners), 219n6 Sadan, Ehud, 199 Sadiq, Jafar al-, 38, 219n6, 220n12 Safavids, 36–37, 38, 40, 44, 227n63 Safi od-Din, 37 Şahin, Leyla, 178 Samanyolu television channel, 159 Samast, Ogün, 180 San Stefano, Treaty of, 58, 59, 60 Santoro, Andrea, 180 Saqa, Loa’ al-, 207, 209–10 Saraçoğlu, Şükrü, 113 Sarıkamış, Battle of, 79 Saudi Arabia, 145, 151, 167, 198, 199, 215, 220n14, 221n17, 253n55 Savaş, Vural, 162 Schiltberger, Johann, 29 Scholarios, Georgios (Patriarch Gennadios II), 32 Sebilürreşad, 116 secularism, 6, 14–15, 17, 27, 32, 42, 49, 52, 59, 61, 72, 76, 77, 78, 82, 90, 93, 98, 99, 102, 103, 108, 111, 112, 114, 116, 117, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 135, 137, 139, 140, 142, 143, 149, 150, 151, 152, 155, 158, 159, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 190, 193, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 202, 205, 214, 215, 230n11, 249n79, 262n4 Selam, 200 Selim I, 37, 46, 226n56 Selim III, 47, 48 Seljuks, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 223n3, 224n20, 224n22, 225n35, 225n37 Sephardic Jews, 33 Serbia, 32, 59, 75, 199, 200, 229n2 Sèvres, Treaty of, 83, 89, 238n19, 240n47 Seyit Rıza, 104 Sezer, Ahmet Necdet, 170, 173, 177, 179, 180 Shādhilīyah: order, 60, 232n42

272

INDEX

Shafi-i school of Islamic jurisprudence, 3, 5, 220n13 Shamanism, 14, 17, 19, 20, 21, 24, 39, 224n17, 228n72 Shari’a, 3–5, 6, 7, 14, 23, 24, 36, 40, 41, 42, 43, 48, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 59, 68, 71, 73, 77, 87, 89, 93, 103, 116, 119, 120, 131, 136, 138, 145, 149, 155, 161, 162, 186, 196, 201, 203, 214, 219n4, 220n12, 220n16, 221n17, 228n78, 228n79, 242n65, 252n43, 261n66, 262n4 Shari’a courts, 7, 41–42, 52, 93, 77, 221n17 Sheikh Abul Huda al-Sayyadi, 60 Sheikh Ahmed, 53 Sheikh Bedreddin, 30 Sheikh Hamza Zafir al-Madānī, 60 Sheikh Mekkeli Ahmet Hamdi, 95–96 Sheikh Muharrem, 96 Sheikh Osman Hoca, 96 Sheikh Said Revolt, 93–94, 95, 96, 103, 116, 119, 201, 242n73, 243n75, 243n76 Sheikhulislam, 41, 42, 49, 50, 54, 66, 72, 74, 77, 85, 86, 87, 92, 120, 231n26, 242n65 Shia Islam, 3, 23, 36, 37, 38, 39, 201, 219n5, 219n6, 220n12, 222n48, 223n50, 227n63, 232n53 Shrewi, Abdurrahman, 199 Simavi, Sedat, 197 Simich, Zivorad, 199 Sinan, 36 Singapore, 160 Sivas, Congress of, 85 6–7 September, pogrom of, 121–22 Social Democracy People’s Party (SHP), 148, 152, 153 Society for Muslim Unity (İMC), 71, 119 Society for the Employment of Muslim Women, 78 Sofu, Halil Ibrahim, 203, 204 Speak Turkish Campaign, 105 Special Finance Institutions (ÖFKs). See Islamic banking Sublime Port, 49, 75 Sudan, 176

Sufism, 8, 13–14, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 37, 38, 39, 222n47, 228n74, 232n42, 232n47. See also tariqah Şükrü, 97 Süleyman I, 38, 41, 44, 145, 226n56, 229n82 Süleymancılar, 115, 118, 127, 145 Sultânî colleges, 61 Sunni Islam, 3, 4, 5, 6, 12, 14, 18, 21, 23, 24, 29, 30, 34, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 60, 88, 93, 94, 108, 117, 127, 129, 130, 136, 139, 140, 143, 156, 179, 187, 201, 219n5, 219n6, 220n8, 220n12, 220n13, 220n15, 222n48, 223n50, 227n66, 227n69, 228n72, 228n73, 228n74, 242n71, 250n4, 262n4 Surname Law, 101–2 Syria, 23, 33, 37, 51, 79, 80, 105, 160, 175, 205, 207, 227n69, 230n13, 242n73, 252n39, 254n85 Talat Pasha, 68, 69, 72, 73, 75, 76, 79, 80, 83, 235n106, 237n136 Talayhan, Sabahattin, 192 Talu, Naim, 132 Tanin, 74, 78 Tanzimat, 50–53, 68 tariqah, 13–14, 20–21, 23, 39, 43, 48, 53, 60, 66, 71, 77, 84, 88, 89, 93, 96, 102, 108, 109, 111, 115, 116, 118, 119, 127, 143, 146, 155, 158, 161, 166, 171, 179, 183, 213, 222n48, 229n3, 254n74. See also Bektashi; Mevlevi; Naqshbandi; Rifāīyah; Shādhilīya; Süleymancılar Teşkilât-ı Mahsusa (Special Organization), 76, 80, 83, 236n107 Tevfik Pasha, 89 Tevhid, 200 31 March, Incident of, 234n85 Ticani, 120 Tirmidhi al-, 220n11 Translation Bureau, 49, 56, 65 True Path Party (DYP), 148, 152, 153, 157, 158, 159, 160, 162, 163, 164, 165, 167, 169, 251n28 Tunahan, Süleyman Hilmi, 115. See also Süleymancılar Tunalı Hilmi, 67 Tunç, Abdülaziz, 193

INDEX

Turcomans, 22, 24, 25, 37 Türk Derneği, 73, 75 Türk Dil Kurumu (Turkish Language Association), 100 Türkeş, Alparslan, 130, 133, 134, 142 Turkey Unity Party (TBP), 129, 132 Turkish Citizenship, Law on, 112–13 Turkish Conservative Party (TMP), 116 Turkish History Thesis, 17–18, 100–101, 123, 223n5 Turkish Industrialists’ and Businesspersons’ Association (TÜSİAD), 153 Turkish-Islamic Synthesis, 130, 139, 140, 142, 143, 149, 150, 151, 154, 214, 248n62 Turkish-Islamic Union for Religious Affairs (DİTİB), 150, 252n30 Turkish Labor Party (TİP), 128, 131 Turkish military, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 61, 62, 65, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, 73, 75, 77, 79, 82, 83, 86, 89, 95, 103, 104, 123–24, 125, 126, 131, 134, 140, 141–45, 161, 162, 163, 164, 170, 172, 173, 174, 180, 181, 182, 248n52, 248n54, 251n14, 251n16, 261n76 Turkish Radio and Television (TRT), 129, 177, 257n10 Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), 174, 249n72 Türkiye Komünist Fırkası (Turkish Communist Party or TKF), 88 Türk Kultur Kurumu (Turkish Cultural Society), 98 Türk Ocağı (Turkish Hearth), 75, 78, 105, 106, 108 Türk Tarih Kurumu (Turkish History Association), 100 Türk Yurdu, 75, 76, 108 Tutar, Cemal, 194 28 February Process, 160–64, 179, 214, 216 Uthmanic codex, 3, 220n16 Uçok, Bahriye, 199 Uğurlu, Feridun, 208 Ulema, 14–15, 23, 29, 39, 41, 42, 43, 44, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 58, 60, 61, 62, 71, 77, 92, 93, 99, 178, 213, 214, 223n49, 225n35, 229n3, 231n26

273

Ülkümen, Selahattin, 246n5 Ülkü Ocakları. See Idealists’ Hearths Ulusu, Bülend, 141 Union of Islamic Communities and Congregations (İCCB), 203–4 United Kingdom. See Britain United States, 26, 64, 114, 130, 147, 153, 155, 156, 160, 161, 164, 169, 171, 172, 176, 179, 184, 198, 199, 202, 203, 206, 207, 210, 216–17, 221n26, 233n58, 233n61, 246n12, 254n67, 261n72 Unity Party (BP). See Turkey Unity Party (TBP) Urbanization, 118, 129, 138, 154, 188, 213 Ürgüplü, Suat Hayri, 126, 127 Urhan, Mehmet, 260n58 Vahdet bookshop, 186 Varlık Vergisi. See Asset Tax Vasat, 204 Vasıf Bey, 93 Velioğlu, Hüseyin, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 195, 211, 257n8, 257n9, 258n22, 259n40 Village Institutes, 111, 114, 118 Virtue Party (FP), 164, 165, 166, 167 Volkan, 71 Von der Goltz, Colmar Freiherr, 67, 68 Vural, Engin, 208, 209 Wahhab, Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-, 45, 220n14 Wahhabism, 45, 145 Wahhabist revolt, 45 Warriors of the Turkish Army of Islamic Liberation (TİKMO), 185 Waqf. See religious foundations Welfare Party (RP), 148, 167, 169, 214; and anti-Semitism, 156, 160, 161; and democracy, 156, 166; and Developing Eight (D-8), 160; and domestic policy, 161–163; financing of, 157; and economic policies of, 155–56, 254n70; and EEC, 156; and foreign policy, 156, 160–61; and Ottoman nostalgia, 157; and party organization, 156–57; in power, 160–63

274

INDEX

Western Working Group, 161, 162 Wingate, Reginald, 78 Wittek, Paul, 27, 28 World War I, 76, 77, 79, 90, 92, 98, 104, 105, 119, 121, 236n115, 240n44 World War II, 109, 112, 113, 246n12 Yahya, Yasef, 209 Yalman, Aytaç, 172, 173 Yarar, Erol, 154 Yassin, Sheikh Ahmed, 176 Yazıcıoğlu, Muhsin, 158 Yeni Gün, 108 Yeni Osmanlılar. See Young Ottomans Yeni Safak, 176 Yeryüzü, 260n51 Yeşil Ordu Cemiyeti (Green Army Association), 88 Yezidis, 61, 232n47, 257n8 Yigit, Baki, 206, 207, 208 Yıldırım, İzzettin, 194 Yıldız, Bekir, 161

Yılmaz, Durmuş, 177 Yılmaz, Mesut, 152, 160, 163, 164 Yolga, Namık Kemal, 246n5 Young Arab Society, 74 Young Ottomans, 56–57, 59 Young Raider Association (Ak-Genç), 185 Young Turks. See Committee for Union and Progress Yugoslavia, 199, 200 Yüksel, Necdet, 199, 200 Yürüm, Yuda, 199, 200 Zaman, 159, 257n18 Zarqawi, Abu Musab al-, 209 Zehra Foundation, 194 Ziya Bey, 108 Ziya Hürşit, 97 Ziya Pasha, 57, 58 Zorlu, Fatin Rüştü, 124 Zoroastrianism, 7, 20, 21, 39, 232n47 Zübeyde, 822

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