Yanardagoglu, Eylem
Yanardagoglu, Eylem
Yanardagoglu, Eylem
This version of the publication may differ from the final published
version.
Eylem Yanardağoğlu
June 2008
1
Contents
Acknowledgements.................................................................................. 5
Declaration ................................................................................................. 6
Abstract ....................................................................................................... 7
Abbreviations ............................................................................................ 8
Chapter 1 Introduction
What is this study about?.......................................................................... 9
What is my interest in this study? ............................................................ 18
The structure of the thesis ........................................................................ 25
Methodology ............................................................................................ 28
2
Chapter 4 Mediation of cultural identities in the Turkish mainstream
media structure: limitations and openings in the ‘market for
loyalties’
Introduction .............................................................................................. 122
Mass Media in Turkey before the 1980s .................................................. 125
The Impact of the 1980 Military Intervention.......................................... 127
The Impact of the Globalisation of Media Policies on
National Policies ............................................................................. 134
The Situation of the Broadcast Media in the 1980s and Early 1990s ...... 138
‘Speaking Turkey!’................................................................................... 141
The Impact of the Consolidation of Media Ownership on
Expressions of Diversity ................................................................. 146
The Discovery of a ‘Multicultural’ Past in Popular Cultural Products .... 148
Dilemmas of External and Internal Diversity in the Turkish Media ........ 152
The Impact of Europeanisation on the Mediation of Cultural Diversity.. 159
Conclusion................................................................................................ 162
Chapter 7 Conclusion
.................................................................................................................. 241
3
Appendices
I. Chronology of Events During Europeanisation Reforms ..................... 259
II. Ideological Tendencies of Major Newspapers in Turkey ................... 261
III. Cross-Media Ownership in Turkey ................................................... 262
4
Acknowledgements
In many ways, studying for a PhD has been as much a process of personal growth as
it has been one of intellectual and academic development. I consider myself lucky to
have wonderful friends and colleagues who have always been there for me during
this long and challenging period.
I am first and foremost thankful to Professor Frank Webster and Professor John
Solomos who have co-supervised this thesis. I am thankful to Frank for the interest
he has shown in the topic and for always drawing my attention to pertinent academic
works and debates over the years. His meticulous attention to detail and the
directness of his feedback has always helped me to stay focussed on the
requirements and objectives of this thesis. My most sincere thanks go to John, whose
calm advice, constructive criticism and nuanced guidance has helped me to develop
my thinking and academic ‘voice’ throughout the years. I am also indebted to John
for helping me to find the courage and strength to carry on, even through the darkest
times of the PhD. I am going to deeply miss all the nice chats we had about books,
films, music and ‘life’ in general.
I also would like to extend my gratitude to Professor Anthony Woodiwiss, whose
expertise in human rights and interest in Turkey has been an invaluable contribution
to the development of the thesis. Furthermore, I also wish to express my thanks to
City University, which has generously funded this PhD from the beginning by
granting me the School of Social Sciences bursary.
This PhD has also been partly funded by Bilgi University in Istanbul. I also extend
my many thanks to colleagues and friends in Bilgi University, including Professor
Aydın Uğur, Dr. Ferhat Kentel, Esra Ercan Bilgiç, Ohannes Kılıçdağı and Alper
Özçakır, for their help especially during the data collection phase of the thesis.
Similarly, my thanks go to Professor Bülent Çaplı, Dr. Gülseren Adaklı, Hakan
Tuncel and Dr. Burcu Sümer of Ankara University who have kindly supported me in
various stages of my work.
During the years of the PhD I have had the opportunity to meet with some very
inspiring and interesting people who have made this experience so enriching. I
extend my thanks to my fellow PhD students and friends - Mireille, Imad, Demetris,
Helen, Sophia, Aybil, Özlem, Doğuş, Lena, Damien, Sophie, Nick and Chiara - for
always being there to listen, to share experiences, thoughts, chocolates, food, coffee,
homes, laughter and friendship. My special thanks go to my dearest friends Umut,
Natacha and Maria for their continous support, and to Ryan not only for his love and
friendship, but for the wonders he has created with his editing and design skills for
the final version of the PhD.
Finally, this PhD would not have been possible without the selfless support of my
family. I am most grateful to my mother Esma and father Kürşat for never losing
their belief in me, their optimism, patience, endurance and loving hearts. This thesis
is dedicated to them.
5
Declaration
I grant powers of discretion to the University Librarian to allow the thesis to be
copied in whole or in part without further reference to me. This permission covers
only single copies made for study purposes, subject to normal conditions of
acknowledgement.
6
Abstract
The growing complexity of European societies continues to raise questions in a
number of policy areas of how to accommodate ethnic and linguistic diversity. In the
realm of media, current research indicates that the implementation of new practices
and policies in culturally diverse societies are implicated in questions of rights and
citizenship – features of ‘national’ identity that are themselves increasingly being
challenged and shaped by global and transnational processes.
This study investigates these issues in the context of Turkey. It focuses on the ways
in which Turkey’s regime for mediating cultural identities has been transformed
since its acceptance as a candidate state to the European Union in 1999. Between
2001 and 2004, as part of its ‘Harmonisation’ with the political requirements of EU
membership, Turkey underwent a significant and comprehensive series of
democratisation reforms, and officially entered membership negotiations in October
2005.
In terms of media, the introduction of broadcasting in languages other than Turkish
has been one of the more radical reforms. This is because, despite the existence of a
traditional media regime catering for officially recognised non-Muslim minorities,
the recognition of cultural rights in the media for other ethnically or linguistically
different groups, such as the Kurds, has been amongst the most disputed topics in
contemporary Turkey.
Therefore, this research reviews the origins of the ‘old’ minority media regime for
non-Muslim communities, and explores the external and internal dynamics that have
transformed media policy and practice during the Europeanisation period. The main
finding of the research is that the mediation of cultural identities has indeed been
democratised over the last decade, with the Europeanisation process acting as a
significant leverage for change. However, this thesis also reveals how Turkey’s
national framework has acted selectively in its compliance and resistance to
transnational challenges, especially when they have encroached on the core
sensitivities in Turkish political culture.
7
List of Abbreviations
8
Chapter 1
Introduction
The small, non-Muslim communities – primarily Armenians, Rum (Greek) and Jews
– constitute the officially recognised minority groups. Yet, despite being the second
largest ethnic group in Turkey1, the question of minority rights and protection for
Kurds remains contentious2. However, on the international stage, the situation of the
Kurds in Turkey is frequently cited as an example of the need for international
human rights instruments and conventions that deal with minority rights and
protection (Oran, 2007; O’Neil, 2007, Kirişçi and Winrow, 1997).
1
Peter Andrews (1989) has enumerated 47 distinct ethnic groups in Turkey. The Kurdish population
is estimated to be around 11 million, comprising 15% of the total population in Turkey. Non-Muslim
minorities make up 0.1 % of the overall population (Milliyet, 22 March 2007).
2
As Yıldız (2005) explains, some Kurds do not accept being regarded as a minority because they
believe that they are one of the ‘constituent elements’ of Turkey. The authorities also do not
recognize Kurds as minorities because official minorities are classified as such on the basis of their
religion. Furthermore, whilst some Kurds are integrated within the political system, some perceive
themselves as a ‘politicised ethnic group’ (Kirişçi and Winrow, 1997:24). According to Kaya and
Tarhanlı (2005), Kurds can be sociologically defined as a minority.
9
In terms of citizenship, all these communities are defined as ‘Turkish’, but, until
recently, they have had different rights in terms of their access to education and
media in their own particular languages. Non-Muslims’ entitlements to cultural
rights have been a part of the international legal framework for minority protection
since the 1920s, enabling them to keep and develop their long tradition of minority
media. However, because the official recognition of a separate Kurdish identity has
been such a controversial issue, expressions of Kurdish cultural identity in media
have been deliberately limited and constrained. The ban on the Kurdish language
was lifted in 1991, but its use in broadcasting was only allowed in 2002 during the
Europeanisation reform period. Previously unthinkable, in 2004 this ‘multicultural’
policy measure resulted in the launch of daily broadcasts in what has been officially
stipulated as ‘different languages and dialects used by Turkish citizens in their daily
life’ on the public service broadcaster – Turkish Radio and Television (TRT).
Kurdish broadcasts on local commercial television and radio stations became
possible in the summer of 2006 in two cities in South-eastern Turkey.
3
See appendix for a chronology of key events in this period.
10
underpinning the EU’s Eastern European enlargement (Beck and Grande, 2007),
these criteria, among others, require every member and candidate state to uphold the
rule of democracy, respect for minority cultures and human rights (European
Council, 1993).
The reform period in Turkey has been crucial for its compliance with the
Copenhagen criteria and has created an atmosphere in which the official
understandings of cultural and national identity have been revisited and debated. It
has also opened Pandora’s box for many taboo subjects. It has revealed the tensions
and discrepancies between the national and European perspectives on issues of
cultural and human rights and the protection of minorities, and has crystallised some
of the basic contradictions in the state’s strategies for dealing with diversity.
This study aims to explore and unpack these dynamics by taking the changes within
the media as a point of departure. This is because ‘mediated communication must be
understood as both producer and product of hierarchy, and as such fundamentally
implicated in the exercise of, and resistance to, power in modern societies’
(Silverstone, 2005: 190-191).
11
Therefore, this study considers the changes within the mediation of cultural
identities 4 as a fruitful starting point for thinking about issues of inclusion and
exclusion in the national culture, rights, democracy, and citizenship in the Turkish
context5.
Citizenship has been broadly defined as a legal status in terms of the rights and
obligations members of a polity upheld in the context of the nation state (Turner,
1993). However, certain dynamics since the end of the Second World War have
broadened its scope to include economic, social and cultural arenas, and have
ultimately had implications for exclusion, inclusion, belonging as well as democracy
in a given social and political setting. Due to global forces that have challenged the
single authority of the nation state on citizenship and democracy, the development of
supranational bodies such as the EU, and the ascendance of international human
rights instruments, citizenship is increasingly being conceived as a ‘transnational
matter’ (Isin and Turner, 2002). In fact, these transnational challenges to the state’s
privileged position have allowed citizens to look outside its borders for their rights,
and into the internationally defined human rights instruments, which, as Turner
(1993: 178) has explained, could ‘counteract [the state’s] repressive capacity’.
4
Hall (1990:223-225) considers two different ways of conceptualising cultural identity. The first is
about a shared culture, history and ‘unchanging and continuous frames of reference and meaning’.
The other refers to the changes, disruptions and differences that occur due to historical dynamics. The
latter in this sense is both a matter of ‘being’ and ‘becoming’.
5
For an analysis of the relationship between practices of mediation and democracy see Barnett (2003).
12
democracy (Randall, 1998), the democratisation of communication is deemed to be
inherently linked to the general democratic environment and democratisation of
society itself (Splichal, 1993).
In fact establishing media as a sphere within which all cultural identities are
represented, the ‘right to communicate’ emerges as a significant aspect of
democratisation (White, 1995; Splichal, 1993). This is because it not only
incorporates ‘traditional freedoms’, such as freedom of thought and expression, but
also involves the ‘right to participate in the management of the mass media and
communication organizations’ (Splichal, 1993: 11). In this respect, ‘democratisation
suggests that communication systems should be reorganised to permit all sectors of a
population to contribute to the pool of information that provides the basis for local
13
and national decision-making and the basis for the allocation of resources in society’
(White, 1995: 96).
In this light, the main research questions that inform this thesis can be summarised
as follows:
-How and why has the mediation of cultural identities changed in the Turkish
media setting? In which ways have these changes been reflected in the
practices of the general and particularistic media?
14
One way of looking at the relationship between media, democracy and citizenship is
maintaining plurality or ‘demonopolisation’ of the media sources and outlets, which
is most relevant to minority or underprivileged social and cultural groups, especially
in culturally diverse societies (Rozumlowicz, 2002). Diversity within the media
systems is crucial in terms of their capacity to reflect the different forms of cultural
diversity in a given society. At times, media systems in culturally diverse societies
are expected to perform contradictory roles. On the one hand, the media systems are
expected to express and maintain ‘national cultural identity’, while, on the other
hand, expressing and maintaining ‘sub-national and cultural identities based on
religion, language or other attributes’ (McQuail, 2001: 74). This has especially been
the role attributed to public service media in Europe but, as Murdock (1992) has
suggested, there has existed a problem of ‘representation’. This is because these
systems failed to capture and represent the societal complexity, leading to questions
regarding the inclusion and exclusion of different cultural identities within the
symbolic and cultural space created by the national media. This is also pivotal for
understanding the emergence and transformation of particularistic media practices.
In the European context, the different ways in which cultural diversity are
configured in the national setting have led to different formations of particularistic
media. The first examples pertain to the emergence of sub-national movements in
Europe that challenged ‘the traditional definitions of national culture’ because of a
lack of sufficient representation of cultural identities in the general public media
structures (Murdock, 1992: 34). In the British Isles such movements emerged in
Wales, Scotland and Ireland. However, as Murdock has explained, this trend
influenced all the countries in Europe and compelled them to seek new ways of
accommodating diversity to provide a ‘full range of resources for citizenship’. The
growing complexity of European societies due to contemporary flows of
immigration also made issues of representation and visibility of ethnic minorities
within media systems a matter of concern; in turn, this has raised new questions
about the function of media diversity within a multicultural Europe (Silverstone and
Georgiou, 2005).
15
In the setting of the Cold War, the capacity to represent different cultural identities
and minorities within European media systems has become a fundamental signifier
of the level of democracy in a given national setting. This was because, as Turner
(2001: 18) has expressed, the cultural aspects of citizenship and democracy were
‘treated in terms of the right of ethnic minorities and their rights to cultural
autonomy’. This has been especially significant in relation to historical minorities in
Eastern and Central European contexts, and is also highly pertinent to Turkey and its
response to the international instruments created for the protection of national
minorities.
In fact, the groups under discussion in this thesis remain within a web of complex
relationships. Officially, only non-Muslims are considered to be national minorities,
and these groups are also a part of wider diasporic cultures, so they are subject to
changes and transformations both at the local and the transnational level.
This thesis explores the changes within two different examples of particularistic
media systems in the Turkish context. The first one relates to the changes within the
old minority regime, i.e. the non-Muslim community newspapers. The latter
considers the new developments in broadcasting policy and practice during Turkey’s
harmonisation with EU legislation and focuses on the introduction of Kurdish
language broadcasts. In this light, one of the central aims of this study is to review
and identify the key issues and debates that are relevant to minority/diasporic media
and locate the Turkish case in this growing research field. The other key aims that
inform this thesis can be summarised as follows: examining the internal and external
factors that shaped the development of particularistic media in Turkey, and
analysing the impact of Europeanisation on this process; assessing the significance
of particularistic media for the minority communities themselves, and for their
visibility and recognition in the public realm in general; and investigating the
implications of changing particularistic media practices for a more democratic and
inclusive understanding of Turkish citizenship.
16
In Turkey, expressions of cultural identities in the public realm are highly politicised
and tensions over their mediation have been closely related to the prevalent
framework of Republican ideology, which is based on principles of ethnic
homogeneity, secularism, single identity and single language. These established
discourses on citizenship also have a bearing on who is included in the symbolic
environment and under which conditions. Therefore, in this thesis, the differences
between old and new practices in particularistic media are considered to emanate
from wider dilemmas and tensions about the configuration of national identity and
citizenship in Turkey.
However, these established notions have been challenged by local and global actors
as part of wider democratisation processes affecting Turkey over the last decade, and
they have manifested themselves in the transformation of particularistic media. This
has especially been the case for the start of broadcasting in Kurdish, which is a
positive step towards the normalisation of the controversial Kurdish issue in Turkey.
In this process, the prospect of EU accession has acted as a significant form of
leverage. For the non-Muslim minority media, the transformation needs to be seen
against the backdrop of broader local and international challenges rather than solely
in terms of the EU’s impact. Hence, this thesis compels the use of a framework that
considers the influence of Europeanisation in conjunction with domestic and global
forces, and the various responses and negotiations that emerge as a result of their
interaction.
The main premise of this thesis is that the transformation of particularistic media
reveals increasing efforts to maintain external diversity in the media structure and an
improvement in the recognition of cultural diversity in the public domain, and as
such indicates further democratisation in Turkey. However, the data that inform this
thesis also reveal the continuing strength of the national framework in the mediation
of cultural identities. As far as nationally sensitive issues, taboos and historically
embedded tensions are concerned, the national framework shapes the boundaries of
mediation and, as the following chapters demonstrate, its impact cross cuts both
particularistic and mainstream media practices. The resilience of the national
17
framework in the mediation of cultural identities emerges at both the symbolic and
legislative levels and their dynamic relationship with local, national and
transnational currents. The discussion in the following chapters attempts to unpack
the complex of these relationships.
Meanwhile, the presence of the second largest ethnic group in Turkey, the Kurds, in
this ‘multicultural’ picture was not still resolved. Although Kurdish music albums
were widely played in metropolitan cities, and large rural or urban Kurdish families
served as the protagonists of popular dramas, their cultural rights in terms of access
to media in their own language remained disputed. This only changed when access
to broadcasting in different languages was finally made legal in 2004 as a result of
Europeanisation reforms.
18
both countries. Turks in Greece and the Rum (Greek)6 in Turkey had been granted
similar cultural rights but they also had been subject to similar pressures, even
though Greece is a member of the EU and Turkey is an accession state. The question
of the role played by the media motivated me to conduct further research into the
issues in relation to minorities and cultural rights in a European context and I
eventually focussed my attention on particularistic media practices.
There are a number of issues that make this investigation on Turkey significant. The
forces of globalisation and changing geo-politics continue to justify Turkey’s appeal
as a case study, especially in terms of its relation to different regional dynamics and
also wider global concerns over how to accommodate increasing ethnic and cultural
diversification within social structures. The place of Turkey in world geo-politics
has always been a contested one; it is considered to oscillate between Middle
Eastern and European regional categories and is arguably being pushed towards
different regionalisms (Featherstone and Kazamias, 2001; Mohammadi-Sreberny,
1998). On the one hand, in the post-September 11th era, Turkey’s salience as a
modern and secular state is increasing and, as Arat (2007) has maintained, such
developments make Turkey significant as a ‘model’ to other Muslim countries. This
is because it is considered to be an exceptional case that has been able to establish a
secular democratic state and grants its citizens more freedom and rights compared to
other examples found in the Middle East.
6
Örs (2006:80) explains the Rum cultural identity as follows: ‘In Turkey, they are officially
categorised as a non-Muslim minority group called Istanbullu Rum, the Christian Orthodox residents
of Istanbul; in Greece, as Constantinopolitan Greeks (Konstantinoupolites/Polites). The multiplicity
of names in designating the Rum Polites is indicative of the difficulties in their categorisation, or the
inaptness of conventional categories to characterise this community.’
19
Southern European countries such as Greece, Spain and Portugal during their
accession to the EU (LSE Public debate, 22nd November 2007).
The idea of minority rights in a European context did not emerge until after the
Congress of Westphalia (1648), which introduced the notion of territorial
sovereignty. Minority rights in this framework were accepted in the international
community only in the form of religious rights. In fact, the protection of minorities
and its implications for citizenship were not problematised until the end of the Cold
war (Preece, 1997; Kastoryano, 2002). But the rising ethnic strife and growing
nationalisms in Eastern Europe in the 1990s challenged European governments to
re-think and re-evaluate their approach to the accommodation of cultural diversity, a
process that also ‘revitalised’ the interest in issues of citizenship (Isin and Wood,
1999; Beiner, 1995; Meehan, 1993).
7
The term ‘millet’ literally means nation, but does not have the political connotation in the modern
sense. It is a legal organisation of religious communities such as Greeks, Armenians and Jews but this
distinction was based on religion rather than ethnicity. As Zürcher (1998:59) has explained ‘Christian
and Jewish groups were incorporated into the society by giving them a dhimmi (protected) status. In
exchange for tax, they were allowed to live within the Muslim state’. The Millet system became the
constitutive legislation of the Ottoman state in the 15th century after the conquest of Istanbul and
millet members were not treated as full Ottoman citizens until the 1850s, after the Tanzimat reforms
(Karpat 1982:145-162).
21
In this light, the third aspect that makes this study significant is its focus on such
concerns and problems in a non-Western European context. In Western Europe,
post-war immigration is considered to be one of the most significant contemporary
phenomena that led to the diversification of established nation states, and which
compelled them to introduce new policies broadly termed as ‘multiculturalism’ (Rex,
1996). Immigration complicated the relationship between conventional
understandings of national identity, loyalty and sovereignty and the states had to
‘negotiate’ identities in order to ensure that the immigrants could be integrated into
the political community (Kastoryano, 2002). It created new debates about the extent
of the rights to which they are entitled, debates that continue as a dilemma in the
sociological and political theorisation of citizenship practices (Turner, 1993; Soysal,
1996; Isin and Wood, 1999). As previously stated, after 1945, a number of
interrelated developments acted as catalysts for broadening of the scope of
citizenship. These contemporary challenges to citizenship were identified as
‘migration’, ‘economic globalisation’, ‘cultural denationalisation’ the growing
global salience of ‘transnational institutions and human rights’, and were labelled as
‘post-national’ challenges to modern citizenship (Tambini, 2001).
Apart from migration, these challenges also pertain to the Turkish case, which is
diverse not as a result of post-war migration, but due to historical presence of
national minorities 8 , a condition still prevalent in Eastern Europe. In this sense,
Turkey is considered to be an example of ‘weak multiculturalism’, which protects
individual rights but also respects group rights for officially recognised minorities
(Yumul, 2005)9. However, the controversial issue of collective or groups rights in
relation to the Kurds in Turkey has been one of the most disputed issues within the
Europeanisation reform process (Tocci, 2006). These rights, as the following
8
Kymlicka has argued that there is a need to address different patterns of cultural diversity and
distinguish ‘national minorities’, which are ‘distinct and potentially self-governing societies’, ‘from
‘ethnic groups’, which are ‘immigrants who have left their national community to enter another
society’ (Kymlicka 1995:19).
9
The term itself is used in Scahar (2000). Yumul utilised the concept in relation to official non-
Muslim minorities.
22
example of broadcasting in different languages reveals, has accentuated post-
national or ‘denationalising’ (Sassen, 2002)10 challenges to the national framework.
According to Price (2002: 36-39), most nation states strive to protect their media
systems - or as he put it, the ‘market for loyalties’ - against the forces of
globalisation. In his view, the drive to protect the market for loyalties, that is ‘the
rules about who can speak, who can shape media structures or what messages course
within the society’, was acutely observed in Turkey ‘in the name of national
identity’. This relates to the process of ‘cultural denationalisation’ (Tambini, 2001),
referring to an accelerating decline in the nation state’s capacity to control the
representations of linguistic and cultural differences in the realm of national
communications, especially in public service broadcasting. Two interrelated
processes can be posited to have contributed to the process of cultural
denationalisation. The first is the advance of new technologies and their widespread
usage, and the second is regionalism. The use of new technologies has challenged
the notion of a national ‘communicative space’ that was limited to the boundaries of
the nation state. They have also facilitated new ways and venues of exchanges and
identifications and painted a ‘communications landscape’ that was different from
previous conceptions (Wang, Servaes and Goonasekera, 2000). Regionalism, as
mentioned above, was exemplified in the emergence of sub-national or regional
media systems in the UK and elsewhere as a result of historical groups’ attempts to
assert claims for a regional identity and cultural autonomy (Spa Moragas, 1995;
Cormack, 2007).
According to Soysal (1996: 24-25), these developments led to the recognition and
accommodation of cultural and linguistic diversity within nation states, but it also
revealed the paradox of the ‘two normative principles of the global system: national
10
In Sassen’s (2002) assessment, post-national citizenship pertains to those developments within the
‘components of citizenship’ that are located outside the nation state. Denationalisation, on the other
hand, focuses on the transformation of the national. Although they represent different routes, they are
considered to be mutually exclusive.
23
sovereignty and universal human rights’, which will be dealt with in more detail in
the following chapters of the thesis.
The fourth and final aspect that makes this study significant is its potential
contribution to the research on diasporic and minority media in a European context.
In this field two broad major strands of research can be identified. The first one
focuses on the examples of aboriginal media in Northern America and Australia, and
sub-national or regional media in Wales, Scotland, Ireland and Spain (Riggins, 1992;
Cormack, 2007). The second strand looks at the media consumption and production
of immigrants, as well as the influence of new technologies in the maintenance and
negotiation of cultural identities (Gillespie, 1995; Milikowski, 2000; Dayan, 1998;
Aksoy & Robins 2000; Cottle, 2000; Robins, 2003).
It has been suggested that there is a need for more comparative analysis in the
European context in this field, which also covers traditional media such as
newspapers, radio and the production process, as well as inquiries into new media
and the media consumption behaviour of minorities (Sreberny, 2002). In fact, recent
studies conducted by the Organisation of Security and Co-operation in Europe
(OSCE) and the European Commission’s ‘Euromosaic’ project in the wake of the
last major wave of European enlargement (2004), have documented and inventoried
the minority media broadcasting practices and legislation in a number of European
countries (McGonagle, Noll and Price, 2003; EU Commission, 2006). These
inventories offer a succinct documentation of legislation and emerging practices, but
remain limited in their scope in terms of providing sociological perspectives in order
to understand the motives behind the legislation or the challenges against it. In this
light, this study aims to complement these inventories and also contribute to the
accumulation of data in the growing literature on ethnic minorities, multiculturalism
and media in a European context.
24
The structure of the thesis
The discussion above has set out the general issues, debates and dilemmas inherent
in the mediation of cultural identities. The proceeding chapters unpack these issues
in order to analyse their implications for the changes in the mediation of cultural
identities in Turkey.
For the purposes of this thesis, the emphasis is placed upon research that deals with
Europeanisation/globalisation, sub-national and regional developments, and ethnic,
immigrant and diasporic media. The choice is due to the complexity of Turkish
setting. As the following data analysis chapters reveal, the non-Muslim media can be
included under ‘ethnic’ or ‘community’ media categories, but these communities are
also considered to be a part of classic diasporas. Therefore, in analysing their media
we need to consider the diasporic connections that have a bearing on their conditions
of existence. The provisions that allowed the use of so called ‘traditionally used
languages’ were first introduced on TRT and eventually on local channels. Hence,
there is a need to consider them in relation to transformations within the private and
public service broadcasting systems at a local and national level11.
The chapter frames these transformations against the development and extension of
human rights instruments, which have gained significance since the 1990s in terms
of protecting minority cultures and the cultural rights of diverse groups in Europe.
The review of literature in this chapter reveals that the way in which the media
11
In this thesis I use the concepts ‘minority media’ and ‘particularistic media’ interchangeably as
analytical categories. A detailed discussion of various terms used in the definition of minority media
is introduced in the next chapter.
25
operates in a given national context is intimately connected to its political culture,
citizenship and rights regime. This is especially the case for the development of
particularistic media as they accentuate such dilemmas about the strategies of the
state in dealing with its diversity and the symbolic place of minorities within the
national formation.
Therefore, Chapter 3 considers the basic tenets of Turkish modernisation, the place
of minorities and other ethnic groups in its formation, and how the framework for
Turkish national identity and its citizenship regime have been configured. It begins
with an historical account of the transition from the multicultural Ottoman Empire to
the Republic of Turkey in order to explain the differences in citizenship practices.
This chapter argues that the recognition of cultural identities and diversity in Turkey
had been too costly to be accommodated in the national ethos. Therefore, the factors
that pushed towards the transformation of the bases of national membership,
especially human rights instruments, were not welcomed straightforwardly, but signs
of change began to emerge after the 1980s as a result of local and transnational
pressures.
Chapter 4 explores the implications of the above dilemmas for the media in general.
It provides the backdrop against which the transformation of particularistic media
needs to be contextualised in the chapters that follow. It addresses the special role of
the print and broadcast media in Turkey’s modernisation, and examines how they
have been transformed by the impact of globalisation, de-regulation, conglomeration
and new technologies since the 1990s. It also reveals that the official understanding
of national identity and citizenship remains hegemonic in the mainstream media and
it determines the conditions for the mediation of cultural identities.
In Chapter 5 and 6, the focus shifts from general to particularistic media and
considers the similarities and differences between divergent practices in two
different case studies. Chapter 5 considers a neglected and under-researched aspect
of media studies in Turkey - non-Muslim minority media. It reveals their unique
characteristics and situates them within the literature on minority/diasporic media in
26
the European context. This chapter demonstrates that the historical minority media
tradition in Turkey has been much dependent on the national and international
political climate, and the contradictions surrounding non-Muslims’ sociological
acceptance as Turkish citizens, and have been shaped by the conditions that led to
their vilification and discrimination in recent history.
However, the chapter also argues that these media have been revitalised by the
effects of globalisation and advances in new technologies, and illustrates their
double role in the maintenance of cultural identity by facilitating the survival of a
diminishing language and by opening up their communities to general public life. In
contrast with Kurdish broadcasting, which is covered in the following chapter, this
chapter reveals that the transformation of non-Muslim media has not been simply a
consequence of EU process in Turkey, but reflects the general influence of the wider
factors that have enabled further democratisation in Turkey over the last decade.
This chapter addresses these dynamics and looks at the new legislative and
regulatory measures to permit new practices that were introduced in TRT, as well as
in local television and radio, in 2004 and 2006 respectively. The beginning of so-
called ‘broadcasting in languages that are used by Turkish citizens in their daily life’
has been the most visible impact of the Europeanisation reforms in Turkey. This
chapter reveals that the beginning of Kurdish broadcasting would not have been
possible in the short term without the influence of the Europeanisation process
because the public institutions have been reluctant to deliver the necessary changes
that were needed for its implementation.
27
This reluctance has been very clear in the wording of the new legislation allowing
the use of Kurdish language in broadcast media, and thereby enhancing cultural
rights especially for the Kurds. In effect, the new legislation refers to the use of
‘ethnic languages’ in broadcasting, but this aspect has been downplayed by
formulating the process as ‘broadcasts on languages and dialects traditionally used
in daily lives’ (Timisi, 2005). The ambiguous wording used in the formulation of the
regulatory framework has acutely revealed the dilemmas obstructing the official
recognition of ethnic and cultural diversity in the Turkish setting. Furthermore, it has
revealed that the issue of granting cultural rights to groups not recognised by the
Lausanne regime is treated by Turkish authorities in terms of its risks to national
security and unity; and is not informed by the general framework of human rights
and a pluralistic understanding of citizenship. In this light, the implementation of
new practices has exposed the tensions between national, local and global, and
transnational pressures and has highlighted the state’s response to them.
Chapter 7 is the conclusion of this thesis within which the main findings and their
implications for further research are discussed in the light of the complex
relationship between national, global and transnational dynamics.
Methodology
This is a qualitative research project that adopts a ‘case study’ approach in its design.
Case studies have been widely used in social inquiry since the 1920s and received
renewed attention in the 1980s in sociology due to the revival of interest in
qualitative methods in general (Blaikie, 2000).
The case study is a research strategy rather than a method and focuses on the
‘natural setting’ of the phenomenon in question. It is a form of empirical research
within which multiple methods of data collection can be utilised in order to
investigate ‘a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context’ (Stark and
Torrance, 2005; Robson, 1993; Yin, 2003: 13; Denscomber, 2003). The ‘greatest
28
strength’ of the case study method is considered to be its ‘flexibility’ (Robson, 1993),
which allows the researcher to adapt research to emergent situations.
Indeed, such flexibility has been vital to this project because, when I enrolled as a
PhD student in 2003, the process of harmonisation with the EU’s Copenhagen
criteria was ongoing and the future of broadcasting in different languages was still
uncertain. Furthermore, the first initiatives to establish a local Armenian radio
station in Istanbul has also been in the planning stage. The changes in legislation for
national and local broadcasting in different languages were implemented gradually
for TRT from June 2004, and for local broadcasters from 2006. At the time of
writing, local Armenian radio has not yet been established. Nonetheless, the case
study design has enabled this research to capture new practices, initiatives and
developments.
This characteristic of the case study becomes more pertinent if, as Halloran (1998:
19-32) suggests, we consider the media not in isolation from the wider social system
but acknowledge the ‘relevance of the context’ as well as the ‘the interactions
between the media and other institutions in the society’. Indeed, in this thesis, the
case study strategy has been useful for unpacking the complexity of local and global
processes acting upon the presence of cultural identities in the media in Turkey.
The process of deciding the case studies in a research project requires the
researchers to choose from a number of ‘possible’ events, people or organizations.
(Denscomber, 2003). A case can be selected because it possesses the ‘typical’
attributes within which the findings can be generalised or because it is an ‘extreme
29
instance’ which contradicts the existing norms therefore it is novel or unique (Yin,
2003; Denscomber, 2003: 34)12.
Constructing the body of data: The use of in-depth interviews and documents
The data that inform this thesis, or its ‘corpus’13, have been drawn from a number of
in-depth, informal interviews, and formal documents such as reports, newspaper
articles and international conventions or treaties, which are among the major sources
that provide ‘evidence’ for case studies (Yin, 2003). These analyses thus make up
the overall ‘text’ of the research (Bauer, Gaskel and Allum 2000).
The collection of formal documents has been conducted largely by utilising online
sources and databases. These consisted of selected newspaper articles, international
conventions, treaties, and the European Commissions’ annual progress reports on
Turkey. My research data also incorporates internal documents provided by contacts
established in the European Union General Secretariat (ABGS), Supreme Council of
Radio and Television High Council for Radio and Television (RTÜK) and the
Delegation of the EU Commission in Ankara. Data from these documents have been
used in conjunction with interview data in order to ‘corroborate and augment the
evidence from other sources’ so that it can be used for the purposes of ‘data
12
The case study can also be used for theory testing or theory building.
13
Corpus or the body of the research not only refers to collection of texts but also any material with
‘symbolic’ function (Bauer and Aarts, 2000:23).
30
triangulation’, which is also one of the strengths of the case study approach (Yin
2003, 87 and 99).
Although ‘documents can be treated as data in their own right’, researchers are
cautioned not to accept them on ‘face value’ and to ‘evaluate’ them carefully on the
basis of their ‘authenticity’, ‘credibility’ or accuracy, ‘representativeness’, and
clarity of their ‘meaning’ (Denscomber, 2003: 214). The documents used as part of
the data corpus here are therefore retrieved either from official websites or acquired
in person from trusted and official sources/respondents.
The formal media texts that are used in this research are selected from mainstream
broadsheets such as Hürriyet, Radikal, Sabah and Milliyet as well as national and
international news portals such as the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) and
CNNTurk. However, the majority of texts have been sourced from Hürriyet
newspaper, which was the biggest selling broadsheet in Turkey at the beginning of
this research project and had a circulation of 464,264 according to figures published
by the General Secretariat of Press and Information (BYEM, 2003). I was however
aware of the potential risk of ‘reporting bias’ (Yin, 2003) that might occur in
newspaper data, especially because it belongs to one of the biggest media
conglomerates, Doğan Holding, and is generally considered to reflect establishment
views (Adaklı, 2006: 127).
But I still chose Hürriyet as the main source in order to capture the central debates in
the public realm because, although the paper reflects the views of the establishment,
it also accommodates experienced journalists and experts who offer alternative
views in their columns. Furthermore, in order to balance Hürriyet and to capture the
breadth of public debates and coverage, texts from other newspapers which belong
to different media groups and various news portals have also been incorporated into
the body of data (see the table in the appendix for the major players in the Turkish
media industry).
The total number of news items or articles used in the analysis is 110; including 78
retrieved from a selection of Hürriyet’s news archives. The online data collection on
31
Hürriyet’s archives spanned from 1999, when Turkey became a candidate country to
the EU, to 2004, when the broadcasting in different languages began on the TRT.
The sporadic collection of newspaper texts before and during the fieldwork were
streamlined during the online search by using key words such as ‘Kurdish
broadcasting’, ‘broadcasting in the mother tongue’ and ‘broadcasting in different
languages’. The online search in the archives generated a total of 464 items that
pertained to the introduction of broadcasting in different languages. I initially
selected 70 of these articles and included eight more in order to cover the key events
between 2004-2008. The remaining 32 news items were retrieved from various
newspapers, magazines and online news portals.
The articles are not analysed in a traditional ‘content analysis’ of media texts14. They
have been incorporated into the analysis in order to triangulate the data that have
been obtained in the interviews and other formal documents. This is because the data
gathered from newspapers, magazine articles or clippings are considered to provide
a valuable source of information as they offer ‘up to date’, ‘broad’ and ‘exact’
coverage of events. Furthermore, journalists’ speciality areas can help to find
‘insider’ information from newspapers on certain issues (Denscomber, 2003; Yin,
2003: 86).
The collection of informal texts has been achieved through in-depth interviews
conducted with key ‘opinion makers’ and officials connected with media production
in Turkey. The interviews have been conducted in various stages starting with pilot
work in June-July 2004 in Istanbul, Turkey. The majority of interviews were
conducted during the major data collection stage from 4th January to 6th April 2005
in Istanbul. Gaps and clarifications from interviews were completed during various
14
Content analysis is a quantitative method which allows a systematic analysis and ‘quantification’ of
media content but it does not help the researcher to interpret the ‘wider social significance of the
quantitative indicators (Hansen et al, 1998).
32
short visits to Ankara in July 2006 and January 2007. Furthermore, speeches and
presentations delivered at conferences15 have also been added to the corpus of data.
As Gaskel (2000: 41) maintains, it is difficult to find ‘one method for selecting
respondents for qualitative inquiries’ because the selection of respondents of
qualitative research do not conform to the rules that apply in quantitative research.
This is because ‘the real purpose of the qualitative research is not counting opinions
or people but rather exploring the range of opinions, the different representations of
the issue’. A useful approach in gathering possible range of views in non-probability
qualitative sampling can be found in what is known as ‘judgemental’ or ‘purposive
sampling’, which allows the selection of ‘a variety of types of cases for in-depth
investigation’. Another common method is to use ‘theoretical sampling’ within
which the researcher continues to add cases ‘until no further insights are obtained’
and there is saturation in the information that is gathered (Blaikie,2000: 205-206)
15
In addition to the international workshop ‘Community Broadcasting Policy in Europe’ at the
Central European University in Budapest, Hungary (17-18th May 2007), I also attended two
conferences in Istanbul.: LMV- KEMO Conference - ‘On the way to citizenship in Western Thrace,
Istanbul and Aegean’, Istanbul, 26th February 2005; and ‘Media in Turkey’ Conference, Marmara
University Istanbul, 14-15th March 2005. Attending these conferences has also been useful in
establishing new contacts and meeting potential informants.
33
been helpful. In selecting professional journalists I aimed to include those who
specialise or have a special interest in minority issues. Secondly, I aimed to reflect
the diversity of opinions that exist in the mainstream media. Therefore, in the sample
I have tried to include journalists or writers who come from different professional as
well as ideological backgrounds. The interviews conducted with professional
journalists and column writers have been especially useful in corroborating the
discussion in Chapter 4 regarding the transformation of the media structure in
Turkey. Given the scarcity of research output in Turkey pertaining to media,
minorities and cultural identities, and given the dominance of content analysis as a
technique in existing research (see Chapter 4 for a detailed discussion), the in-depth
interview technique was selected as a way of eliciting new data and first-hand
experience from media professionals.
I have included all the minority media editors/journalists and all the key persons
involved in the introduction of broadcasting in different languages (from RTÜK
experts to local television editors) in the interviewee list due to their knowledge and
expertise in this field. Interviews with editors, TV producers and officials in TRT
and RTÜK similarly enabled the retrieval of first-hand experiences of the beginning
of Kurdish broadcasting. These interviews informed the discussion in Chapter 5 and
6 in the thesis.
34
The process of data collection: issues of access and trust in in-depth interviews
It has been suggested that researchers encounter two fundamental problems in the
field that have ‘no patent recipes’. The first issue pertains to access, that is the ways
in which ‘researchers succeed in making contact’ and ‘stimulating the informants to
cooperate’. The second issue is about the position of the researchers in the field,
which involves the question of how to ‘secure the factual, temporal and social
conditions’ to conduct the research (Wolff, 2004: 196). In feminist approaches to
qualitative research, the position of the researcher – or her ‘positionality’ – also
involves power relations that are considered to ‘reflect inequality between her and
her subjects’ (Wolf, 1996: 10).
The interview in its conventional form is seen ‘as a pipeline for transporting
knowledge’ within which the respondents are seen as ‘vessels of answers’, provided
that the researcher asks the correct questions in the correct form. However, the
growing ‘sensitivity to representational issues’ have put the premises of this
conventional approach under scrutiny (Holstein and Gubrium, 2004: 141)
35
Consequently, one of the central issues in qualitative methods, has been ‘how
interviewees respond to us based on who we are… as well as the social categories to
which we belong, such as age, gender, class and race’ (Miller and Glassner, 2004:
126).
The influence of ‘ascribed status’ of the researchers, that is his/her race, gender and
ethnicity have led scholars to focus on ‘the insider and outsider dilemmas
investigators experience in the research process’. The main premise of the
‘insider/outsider’ debate is that ‘the autobiographies, cultures and historical contexts
of researchers matter; these determine what the researchers see and do not see, as
well as their ability to analyze data and disseminate knowledge adequately’
(Stanfield, 1998: 34). An intriguing point in this context is made by Burgess (1990:
22) as to ‘whether the field researcher working in their own society experience
advantages and disadvantages that are less likely for a researcher working in cultural
settings other than their own’.
This debate has also been a pivotal focus within feminist scholarship, especially in
relation to qualitative research on women who come from marginalised or
disadvantaged backgrounds, who speak different languages, Third World women
and women of colour in Western societies. The issue is still fervently debated among
scholars as to whether insider or outsider researchers can achieve greater neutrality,
objectivity or a balanced view of the ‘life worlds’ that they are investigating
(Ramazanoglu and Holland, 2002; Archibald and Crnkovich, 1995; Miller and
Glassner, 2004; Stanfield, 1998; Wolf, 1996).
Although my research does not solely involve minority group participants or women,
I have also experienced some of the difficulties that research students working with
groups outside their membership encounter (Egharevba, 2001). However, my
position as an outsider has been an ambiguous one during the fieldwork. Gaining
access and conducting interviews with mainstream media professionals was
relatively easy compared to minority interviewees. This might have been due to both
the respectability and credibility of my contacts, and due to the fact that I am a
36
member of the ‘dominant’ group, that is educated, middle class, urban and ethnically
Turkish, which also corresponds to the profile of media professionals in general.
Such experiences may be indicative of the implicit consensus that ‘minority issues’
are still quite sensitive in the Turkish context. Until recently, as these interviews
have revealed, most non-Muslim minorities have remained introverted groups
sensitive to the motives and attitudes of ‘outsiders’. Therefore, in most interviews
with minority group respondents, I had to establish trust either by being introduced
by a key contact that they knew already, or by making my first visit an unofficial
chat about my project in order to establish some rapport before actually conducting
the interview. My position as a member of the ‘dominant’ group and lack of
language skills may have in some cases prevented me from gaining further insight
and knowledge in the interviews. I have tried to keep such effects to a minimum by
working with good key informants who were also willing to provide background or
insider information about their communities.
While I was conducting my field work, I also noted that my position as a researcher
differed from one interview to the other, creating in each situation a different set of
37
inequality or insider/outsider dilemmas. This has especially been evident in relation
to my gender, which aggravated the ambiguity of my insider/outsider status. This
ambiguity surfaced regardless of the fact that my respondent came from a minority
or majority background. Being a young female researcher had been an asset and a
difficulty in the field. For instance, there were incidents where I felt I lost all control
over the interview and was questioned by my informant who was older and in most
cases, male. In other instances, regardless of their gender and ethnicity, some
informants preferred a more informal and friendly rapport with me possibly because
they considered talking to a young female research student to be far less
intimidating16.
In this regard, the choice to conduct face-to-face interviews in this study has proved
appropriate because, as Gaskell (2000: 48) confirms, this technique is more
advantageous if the topic of research concerns ‘issues of particular sensitivity which
might provoke anxiety’ or when the interviewees are ‘difficult to recruit’ such as
‘ethnic minorities’ or ‘elite or high status respondents’. Indeed, in practice this
technique seemed to reduce the anxiety of ethnic minority respondents, giving them
enough time to think about the questions, and providing the comfort of using both
verbal and non-verbal communication.
Nonetheless, the interview technique can also have some weaknesses. For instance,
one of the obstacles that a researcher can encounter is an out-spoken informant and
16
Wollf (2004:196) mentions that from the view point of the respondents, researchers have many
demands such as ‘partially giving up control of physical space’ and ‘accepting questioning’ which
might pose problems in gaining access and convincing the respondents to co-operate.
38
their cliché answers to certain questions. This can be seen as ‘bias’, which is
understood to be one of the major weaknesses of this technique (Yin, 2003). As Yin
has expressed, bias can occur in response to ‘poorly constructed questions’, and as a
result of ‘reflexivity’ – referring to a situation in which the ‘interviewee gives what
the interviewer wants to hear’ (Yin, 2003: 88-89). In this research, I attempted to
minimise these problems by re-formulating the questions and asking them again in
different ways. On the whole, the interview technique has proven beneficial for this
research because it has allowed a simultaneous interaction between the researcher
and the respondent and has helped to generate new ideas in the process.
The interviews that were conducted during data collection have been digitally
recorded and fully transcribed. Although it may seem time consuming to make
complete transcriptions of the interviews, this has proven very useful in the later
stages of my research because it provided a textual resource that I could re-visit and
easily retrieve when necessary. The strategy of fully transcribing the interviews also
generated a good, overall understanding of the data, helped to identify common
issues and missing information, and also allowed me to track the emergent themes
and debates. Indeed, as Hassen has stated, ‘qualitative data analysis is very much a
matter of discovering what occurs where, in which context, discussed in which terms
using which vocabulary or terminologies and it is a matter of discovering
relationships and differences.’ (1998: 312-313). In this view, a large part of the
‘task’ for the researcher is ‘keeping track’ of where things are in the body of the data,
which can also be achieved using specialised software programs.
The use of computer-assisted analysis involves three major steps (Hansen et al, 1998:
316). Firstly, the ‘raw data’ in its original form is transcribed to a digital format;
secondly, the data is organised into files and folders; and thirdly, software is used to
help visualise and structure the analysis stage. The software package NVivo has
been used in this research in order to archive, organise and code the interviews. In
this research, NVivo was useful for the first two steps of the data analysis, but the
39
actual analysis process was slowed down due to the time spent in learning to use the
software effectively. Indeed, although software packages such as Nvivo can provide
the advantage of increased ‘efficiency’ and ‘speed’ in dealing with big data sets
(Silverman, 2005), Gaskell (2000: 56) argues that software packages cannot replace
the ‘skills and sensitivities of the researcher’ and ‘they also carry the danger that
researchers get absorbed in the technology and lose sight of the text’. In the end,
although the reports and summaries generated by NVivo have been useful as a guide
in establishing relationships between different sets of data, traditional manual
techniques, such as ‘cutting and pasting’, highlighting and taking notes, have been
equally effective during the analysis of this data.
40
Chapter 2
Research on Cultural Diversity, Minorities and the
Media in a European Context
Introduction
This chapter offers a review of the literature pertaining to research on media,
minorities and cultural diversity in the European context and intends to provide a
general framework for the following chapters. This relates to one of the aims that
were outlined in the introductory chapter. That is, to identify the key issues and
analyses emerging from the European context and to locate Turkish minority and
diasporic media practices in this wider literature. In light of the literature, the major
challenges regarding the mediation of minorities can be summarised as
regionalisation, the increasing impact of the human rights regime and global
governance on the nation state and the ethnic diversification of societies. The
relevance of these particular factors is due to the complexity of the Turkish setting.
As the following chapters will reveal in more detail, the non-Muslim minority media
can be considered under both the ‘ethnic’ and ‘community’ media categories, but
such communities are also considered to be a part of classic diasporas. Therefore, in
analysing their media we need to consider the diasporic connections that have a
bearing on their characteristics and activities. In a similar vein, new media
provisions that allow the use of different languages such as Kurdish in local media
outlets can be considered as a ‘community’ media because of their local nature.
However, these provisions were first introduced on the national public service
broadcasting system in 2004, followed by local channels in 2006. Therefore, there is
a need to consider their transformation in relation to the changes within the national
local media provisions.
In this light, this chapter argues that in the Turkish setting, the continuities between
national and local media systems should be analysed as well as the interface and
relationship between historical minorities’ media and diasporic media18.
17
EU Commission’s regular Progress Reports on Turkey’s accession process in 2004 and 2005
discussed the situation of the Kurds in terms of minority rights.
18
Hourigan (2007) also mentioned this aspect and indicated the scarcity of research looking at this
relationship.
42
national or regional media in Wales, Scotland, Ireland or Spain (Riggins, 1992;
Cormack, 2007).
The second strand addresses the relationship between media and minorities in the
context of newer forms of cultural diversity reflecting a growing interest in the links
between migration and media (King and Wood, 2001). Such works look at the media
consumption and production of immigrants, as well as the influence of new
technologies in the maintenance and negotiation of cultural identities (Gillespie,
1995; Milikowski, 2000; Dayan, 1998; Aksoy & Robins, 2000; Cottle, 2000; Robins,
2003).
Inquiries into the media practices and media consumption of minority groups have
until recently remained as an under-researched field within media studies (Cottle,
2002; Rigoni, 2005; Cormack, 1998 and 2007; Moring, 2002). Scholars have utilised
a range of different concepts such as ‘ethnic community media’ (Tsagarousianou,
2002), ‘ethnic minority media’ (Husband, 1994), ‘diasporic media’ (Georgiou, 2005),
‘citizens’ media’ (Rodriguez, 2001), ‘immigrant’, ‘indigenous’ or ‘ethnic minority’
media (Riggins, 1992), ‘particularistic media’ (Dayan, 1998) or ‘minority language’
media (Cormack, 1998). These terminologies are sometimes used interchangeably to
refer to similar processes and formations.
Minority or minority language media can be considered as the first strand of this
research that has begun to emerge as a research field in its own right. It pertains to
the process of ‘regionalisation’ in Western Europe that involves the revival of the
language and cultural identity of national minorities or indigenous groups (Cormack,
1998; 2007, Moring, 2002). ‘Ethnic minority media’ is similarly used to address the
media of national or indigenous minorities as well as the media of immigrant groups
(Riggins, 1992; Moring, 2002).
In addition, the term ‘minority media’ has similarly been used to refer to immigrant
groups’ own media production. But it was also used in the context of media
provisions provided by states in order to target, or to assimilate and integrate
immigrant groups (Teerink-Bovenkerk, 1994; Ananthakrishnan, 1994).
43
Despite such a variety of conceptualisation, these terms all refer to various instances
of ‘community media’ that emerge in different social, economic and geographical
contexts. Community media groups, either print or broadcast, are limited to a
geographical region such as a city, town or a neighbourhood, and aim to provide
news and information for the community. They are usually non-profit organisations
owned by the community organisations or members who work as volunteers.
Community media produce locally oriented output and generally target the
audiences in the locality (Jankowski, 2002: 7-8).
In this context, Rodriguez (2001: 20) proposes the use of the term ‘citizens’ media’
in order to address various types of local, community or grassroots media that pose
the potential to ‘empower’ communities and that could lead to a positive change in
established social codes because these communities can actively ‘enact’ their
citizenship and ‘intervene’ in the general mediascape. In a similar vein, it has been
argued that the media of ethnic and minority groups need to be considered within a
larger trend that accentuates ‘participatory culture’, a trend that is being increasingly
19
The democratisation of communication and information flows was supported by The New
Information and Communication Order (NWICO) project of UNESCO in the 1980s in the developing
world. For details see Chakravartty and Sarikakis (2006) and Reeves (1993).
44
observed in the global proliferation of community, oppositional or alternative media
practices (Deuze, 2006).
Indeed, the most exemplary and effective forms of community media are to be found
in the ethnic minority media of immigrant groups, which are increasingly
transforming into ‘diasporic’ media (Tsragarosianou, 2002). The field of diasporic
media research considers the media production and consumption of dispersed groups
within the ‘new’ media landscape that emerged after the de-regulation of media
systems and the emergence of satellite technology in the 1990s. The change in
terminology from ‘ethnic community’ or ‘ethnic minority’ media to ‘diasporic’
media is part of the shift - or ‘re-wording’ - within the field on issues of ethnicity
and minorities. The older sociological categories of ethnic minorities, immigrants or
minority culture are being replaced by the term ‘diaspora’ because of its increasing
centrality in the theorisation of the relationship between identity and immigration
(Sreberny, 2000; Sreberny, 2001; Cottle, 2000). This is because ethnicity as a
concept was seen as insufficient to convey the ‘complexity’ of diasporic experiences
and relationships, factors that are increasingly subject to transnational dynamics of
social and cultural interaction (Tsagarousianou, 2004: 64).
One of the earlier treatments of diasporic media is found in Dayan’s (1998: 105)
analysis of ‘particularistic media’, which is considered instrumental in the process of
‘transmitting memory and filiation’ for especially fragile communities like minority
groups, immigrants, exiles and diasporas 20 . Dayan utilises the concept in special
reference to communities such as Armenians, Jews and the Kurds. Dayan also
differentiates between media produced ‘by the minorities’ and ‘for the minorities’,
which can help to simplify the language used to examine these diverse practices. It
can be argued that the transformation of ‘media by and for minorities’ implicates
both the national political culture and how it deals with minority protection as well
20
Sreberny (2002:221) suggested approaching collective identities through their ‘gaze’ rather than
trying to identify a core essence. Therefore, a focus on ethnicity was about looking inward to the new
national host culture. A focus on exile is a ‘nostalgic gaze’ looking back to the political homeland,
but diasporas are ‘looking all around’.
45
as the general rules and regulations that organise the national media space and its
practices. This is because minority media not only emerge as venues to preserve the
communality, identity and the language of a group. They also emerge as a reaction
by minority groups seeking self-esteem, prestige and recognition to limited or hostile
representations within the mainstream media (Horboken, 2004; Husband, 2005).
Furthermore, some of the key texts in minority media research suggest a combined
focus on external, internal, political and economic variables as well as the ‘specific
contexts’ in which minority media are situated (Cormack, 1998; Riggins, 1992). For
Riggins (1992: 16-17), the ‘characteristics of the ethnic minority population’, the
‘political structure’ and the ‘international context’ within which minority media
operate were all significant. The ‘characteristics’ of the ethnic minority population
not only includes the number of members in the community in question, but the
‘degree of homogeneity, organisation and integration’ it has achieved and the
‘degree of persecution or repression it has experienced.’
Additionally, the ‘prevailing ideology of the state’ - its ability to tolerate diversity
within its own political structure - was considered as a crucial parameter influencing
the emergence and survival of minority media. The impact of the international
context and the extent to which it helped and empowered the minorities was also
instrumental in their performance. Finally, the number of speakers and the symbolic
status of the language, the existence of a mass campaign, the political culture of the
46
state and interactions with regional trends also impacted on the emergence and
performance of minority media (Cormack, 1998: 39-42).
The old identities which stabilised the social world for so long are in decline,
giving rise to new identities and fragmenting the modern individual as a
unified subject. This so called ‘crisis of identity’ is seen as a part of a wider
process of change which is dislocating the central structures and processes of
modern societies and undermining the frameworks which gave individuals
stable anchorage in the social world (Hall, 1992: 274).
47
In the light of this fragmentation and instability, Hall questioned what might be the
impact of these processes on one modern form of cultural identity, namely the
‘national identity’, which facilitated the transition from a traditional to a modern
society. In this transition, a standardised education and pervasive mass media,
especially in the common dominant language, held a significant role in the creation
of national consciousness.
Mass media were considered to be an integral part of the rise of the modern societies,
because they had the power to form ‘a common symbolic environment’ and ‘new
ways of social interaction’ among people (Thompson, 1995: 3). The nation-state,
which became the principal venue for the exercise of citizenship and defined
people’s legal status, also sought to establish a common and homogeneous cultural
ground (Turner, 2001). As Hall (1992: 292) put it, nation not only functioned as a
political form but as ‘an entity which produces meanings - a system of cultural
representation’.
The emphasis on the symbolic and cultural formation of national identity highlighted
the necessity of creating shared sentiments, sense of belonging and traditions among
citizens. For some, these traditions were invented at the end of the 19th century when
the nation building process was taking off in Europe. The symbols, flags,
ceremonies and national anthems were all part of the invented traditions in political
and social realms that made social cohesion and new bonds of loyalty possible
within the nation that was being created (Hobsbawn and Ranger, 1992). The media
was considered to be central to the process of forging the emergent national identity
because, as Anderson’s (1983) seminal work expressed, it helped people to
‘imagine’ themselves as part of the collective entity and also ‘persuaded’ them to
accept the traditions, myths and ceremonies that would demarcate them as a nation
from others (Louw, 2005). As Solomos (2001: 203-4) expressed, the production of
national identity through a collective, and highly selective, memory and tradition, is
a process that involves the ‘inclusion’ and ‘exclusion’ of other groups, and the
demarcation of ‘us’ and ‘others’. The media in effect were considered as the prime
venues in which such processes took place (Morley and Robins, 1995).
48
In this light, the role of communication systems was significant not only in the
creation of national consciousness but also in the transition to modernity21. Others,
like Gellner (1983: 127), also emphasised the style of messages and their
transmission as the crucial factors that determine who is to be included in the
national culture because, as he maintained, only those who understand the message
conveyed can be included in the moral and economic community.
As Mughan and Gunther (2000: 9-10) expressed, print and broadcast media were
treated differently from the onset. Freedom of expression and press freedom were
considered to be principal aspects of democracy and required minimal regulation or
21
As Curran (2002:167-168) stated, this view was propagated in Daniel Lerner’s Passing of
Traditional Society (1964) as part of modernization theories. Lerner’s theory of modernization was
specifically relevant to Turkey and the Middle East. As Karpat stated (1973:22) the main
interpretation in these theories was that these ‘traditional’ societies were passing away ‘by adopting
new modes of communicating ideas and attitudes through the mass use of tabloids, radios and
movies’.
49
interference from the authorities. However, governments had to regulate the
broadcasting domain due to the scarcity of airwave frequencies. The regulatory
principals that were applied under public service broadcasting systems became a
predominant form in the European context. In this light, the concept of public sphere
was generally invoked in relation to public service broadcasting and its universalistic
values which, since the media were deemed to be the ‘fourth estate of the realm’
(Curran, 1991: 29), putatively coincided with democracy and the ‘public good’
(Garnham, 1990; Scannel, 1989). Habermas (1974: 49) introduced the concept as
follows:
By the public sphere we mean first of all a realm of our social life in which
something approaching a public opinion can be formed. Access is guaranteed
to all citizens. A portion of the public sphere comes into being in every
conversation in which private individuals assemble to form a public
body…citizens behave as public body when they confer an unrestricted
fashion - that is the guarantee of freedom assembly and association and the
freedom to express and publish their opinions - about matters of general
interest. In a large public this kind of communication requires specific means
for transmitting information and influencing those who believe it. Today
newspapers and magazines, radio and television are the media of the public
sphere.
Habermas was introducing an ‘ideal’ category of the public sphere which was
present in 18th century France, Germany and England and in which ideal speech, and
face to face communication was possible in the formation of public opinion. This
form of public sphere eventually disintegrated due to the growth of mass democracy
and literacy, urbanisation, and the popular press. However, it remained a central
concept for the analysis of relationships between the nation and the media (Robins
and Cornford, 1994). It continued to be associated with democracy and citizenship,
although it has been criticised among others for ignoring issues of gender, patriarchy
and alternative public spheres (Webster, 2006; Calhoun, 1992; Curran, 1991;
Dahlgren, 1995; Dahlgren and Sparks, 1991; Keane, 1991).
In the British context the BBC embodied and defined the ideals of public service and
was considered to be an ‘agent of national’. Its ability to link people regardless of
their location and background through a variety of programs was also deemed to be
50
‘democratising culture and politics’ (Cardiff and Scannel, 1987). Furthermore, its
capacity to introduce a wide range of services was considered an ‘important
citizenship right in mass democratic societies’ (Scannell, 1989: 142) 22 . Whilst
figures like Garnham and Scannell propagated the idea that public service
broadcasting guarantees the survival of the public good in capitalist social formation,
others pointed out the insufficiencies of this system. These argued that such systems
were unable to represent and grasp the multitude of needs and demands in
contemporary societies and expressed the need to re-evaluate the concept in the face
of transformations which challenge the boundaries and the correspondence between
national polity and culture (Keane, 1995; Keane, 1998, pp.160-1; Tracey, 1998;
Morley, 2000).
For instance, Dahlgren (1991) distinguished the ‘crisis of the nation state’, the
‘segmentation of audiences’, the ‘rise of new political social movements’ and the
‘emerging new computerised technologies’ as new categories that shape the
contemporary public sphere. Others like Curran (2000) addressed cross border
media flows, new technologies and the globalisation of the public sphere, also
highlighting the contributions from fictional material like soap operas that bring
certain issues to the attention of the public.
Given the emphasis and focus of this thesis, two issues come to the fore as the most
significant concerns implicated in the above revisions of the term public sphere.
These are the growing ethnic and cultural diversity in societies and the transnational
or global challenges on the ‘communicative space’ or realm, which was previously
considered to be congruent with the national borders (Schlesinger, 2000) within
which citizenship was defined and exercised. A significant factor that cuts across
these issues is the exclusionary membership practices in a given national context.
For instance, in his analysis of the relationship between public service broadcasting
22
The BBC system had its drawbacks. Its centralised, monopolistic and elitist outlook was balanced
with the introduction of other outlets such as ITV and Channel 4 to meet the demands of regional and
minority audiences (Williams, 1998).
51
and the public sphere, David Morley (2000: 105) makes an analogy between ‘home’
and media. If, as he asked, the public service broadcasting creates an atmosphere in
which all members of the nation ‘can talk to each other like a family sitting and
chatting around the domestic hearth’23, how could the ones who are excluded from
this symbolic membership ‘participate in the idea of nation as represented in its
mediated culture’? Morley (2000: 118) explores this question as follows:
If the national media constitute the public sphere, which is most central in the
mediation of the nation-state to the general public, then whatever is excluded
from those media is in effect excluded from the symbolic culture of the
nation. When the culture of that public sphere (and thus the nation) is in
effect “racialised” by the naturalisation of one (largely unmarked and
undeclared) form of ethnicity, then only some citizens of the nation find it a
homely and welcoming place. The imagined community is, in fact usually
constructed in the language of some particular ethnos, membership of which
then effectively becomes a prerequisite for the enjoyment of a political
citizenship within the nation state.
Morley’s comments emphasize the problems with expressions of diversity within the
national culture and how they relate to the exercise of citizenship. Although
citizenship is mainly viewed as a form of political membership, identity politics,
which looks at the ways in which sub-ordinate groups try to legitimise their social
identities (Solomos, 2001: 201-202), is generating a critique of the boundaries of
dominant narratives and definitions of national culture and collective identities.
Furthermore, the cultural expansion of citizenship, or the growing significance of
cultural dynamics, seems to be forcing citizenship to become broader and more
inclusive. According to Stevenson (2001: 3-4), having access to cultural citizenship
in this respect entails questions about mass media and making an ‘intervention’ in
the public sphere at the local, national and global level. In fact, this may be related to
understanding the public sphere as layered or multiple as Keane has suggested in
various works (1991; 1995; 1998).
23
Morley refers to Nikos Papastergiadis’ (1998) work, Dialogues in the Diaspora, where he mentions
that the symbols and narratives of home can only resonate if they are admitted to the chamber of
home.
52
Keane (1995: 8) has argued that ‘the old dominance of state structured and
territorially bounded public life mediated by radio, television and newspapers and
books is coming to an end’ because new communication networks that are not bound
territorially seem to have the capacity to ‘fragment’ the notion of a single public
sphere within nation state. According to Keane, the idea of a unified public sphere
has now become ‘obsolete’ and what is emerging in its place seems to be
‘overlapping’ or ‘interconnected’ public spheres that demand a re-evaluation of the
notion of ‘public life and its “partner” terms such as public opinion, the public good,
and the public/private distinction.’
53
a global governance and human rights regime also poses a challenge for the
interventions of the nation-state in the cultural domain.
For instance, the European Union has incorporated democratic governance and
adherence to human rights regimes as a prerequisite for its relationship with aspiring
member states since the mid-1990s and began applying these conditions as
determining criteria for its further enlargement (Arıkan, 2003). Hence, as
Schlesinger suggested, national policies can no longer be thought of separately from
regional and supranational processes such as Europeanisation, a situation that brings
into question the ‘tight fit between nation and communication’ (Schlesinger,
2000;2002). In exploring this European context, the following sections will examine
the impact of such supranational and regional challenges, as well as changes in the
human rights regime, on the mediation of cultural identities.
After the 1980s, public service broadcasting ideals became ‘unfashionable’ (Seaton,
1997: 303) in Europe due to a number of developments such as de-regulation,
privatisation and the impact of satellite technology (Iosifidis, 2005). Moreover, such
ideals were transformed by the transfer of authority over communications systems to
supranational, namely European, levels and through decentralisation to regional,
autonomous and local levels (Spa Moragas and Garitaonandia, 1995: 6).
These developments also coincided with the period when the EU was trying to
establish itself as a political and cultural entity as well as an economic union.
Consequently, the audio-visual sector was considered to be one of the most
significant areas in which a sense of European cultural identity could be created
(Morley and Robins, 1997: 3).
The European Union’s broadcasting policies were based on both the Commission’s
directives and the legislation and recommendations stipulated by the Council of
Europe. Issues that relate to media, especially the use of satellite technology, became
a part of the Council of Europe’s Human Rights Directorate when a special
committee was established in 1982. The EU also considered satellite
communications to be instrumental for encouraging a common European identity
and culture ‘in pursuit of the goal of ever closer Union.’(Collins, 2002: 29)24.
However, the aim of creating a culturally and politically closer union through the
promotion of ‘unity in diversity’ proved difficult to realise. Europe’s cultural
policies, of which the media regulations were a part, were forced to deal with the
economic pressures of a ‘single market’ and the preservation of a collective identity
in the face of globalisation and Americanisation (Wheeler, 2004; Iosifids, 2005).
These dilemmas manifested themselves in disputes between parties who advocated
24
As Collins (1992) stated, the coming of satellite technology was welcomed under the human rights
framework, as it was deemed to augment Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights.
55
further liberalisation and those who supported intervention in the audio-visual
market. Whilst countries like Britain supported liberalisation in order to compete
with American products in the global markets, countries like France and Spain
called for a more interventionist position that could protect their collective cultural
identities (Wheeler, 2004: 350; Iosifidis, 2005: 97)25.
25
There were efforts to harmonise these different motives within European policies. The European
Community completed its pan-European broadcasting regulations between 1982 and 1992 and
introduced a Television without Frontiers Directive in 1989 as well as MEDIA I (1991-1996),
MEDIA II (1996-2000) and MEDIA Plus (2001-2006) programs in order to support the development
of a common European broadcasting space and market (Collins, 2002; Wheeler, 2004; Iosifidis,
2005). When the Television Without Frontiers Directive was first introduced, as Iosifidis (2005:98)
maintained, it ‘abolished the sovereignty of EU Member States over their national systems, thereby
facilitating the free movement of television broadcasting service across frontiers within the Union.’
56
state and sub-nation state levels (Schlesinger, 1997). The following sections will pay
attention to those developments in the European context that have shaped and
transformed minority media.
The issue of regionalism in Europe is not only a matter of geography, but as Spa
Moragas and Gartionandia (1995: 5) expressed, it is embedded in ‘long historical
processes which have created a profound and important diversity of culture and
language in the continent’. The emergence of regional media usually coincided with
political demands based on distinct traditions, religion or language. Indeed, the most
significant examples were manifested in the creation of TV3 in Catalonia (1983),
Euskal Telebista in the Basque Country (1983), S4C in Wales (1982), and TnG in
Ireland (1996). The regionalisation of television and its relation to language and
identity have been well documented and inventoried, especially in the 1990s when
many studies looked at the neglected media spaces of regions, and small cultural and
political and linguistic communities (Hourigan, 2001; Spa Moragas and
Gartionandia, 1995; Riggins, 1992; Cormack, 1998).
Spa Moragas and Gartionandia (1995) stated that minority or regional programming
and broadcasting started in Europe from the late 1960s and developed in two
stages26. Firstly, there were some trials on national public service networks where
short programmes for specific audiences were produced. In the initial stages, social
movements were also involved in the support of regional broadcasting because they
were concerned with ‘broadening’ citizen’s access and participation in the media.
This aspect of regional media is similar to the growth of community media which
also emerged in response to a lack of relevant programming in national media and
was mainly initiated by civil society groups in order to create a ‘bottom–up
approach’ to communication (Jankowski and Prehn, 2002; Louw, 2005: 53). The
emergence of broadcasting by what Hourigan (2001) has called ‘indigenous
26
ITV in UK and ARD in Germany are considered to be exceptions in regional broadcasting.
57
minorities’, meaning non-immigrant populations, was not a significant issue until the
1970s when they were stimulated by social movements.
In his analysis of the revival of the Celtic language and culture in Wales and Ireland,
Howell Jr (1992: 218-219) highlighted the ‘prestige factor’ that broadcasting in
minority languages bestows such communities. In this context, he argued that when
these languages are used on air they acquire an added ‘legitimacy’ and ‘credibility’
among minority audiences. In this way, broadcast media can add status and prestige
to a minority culture and also act in the defence of minority languages.
Broadcasting in Welsh constitutes one of the first examples of regional and minority
language broadcasting in Europe. Wales was recognised as a region within the BBC
system from the late 1930s, national broadcasting councils for Wales and Scotland
were established in 1952 and BBC Wales began in 1964. After the Welsh Language
act of 1987, the language gained equal status with English within Wales, and this
eventually led to the intensification of campaigns for independent Welsh language
radio stations. The Welsh campaign was backed by a strong student movement and,
after lengthy campaigns, Radio Wales and Radio Cymru were created in 1977. The
Broadcasting act of 1980 was instrumental in the creation of TV channel S4C,
(Sianel Pedwra Cymru) which began its transmissions in 1982 with around 30 hours
of programs in Welsh (Ellis, 2000; Howell Jr, 1992; Cormack, 1995).
58
In Wales and Ireland pressure groups have been powerful in stimulating
broadcasting in these languages (Ellis, 2000). The campaign for Irish television was
initiated by activist groups in 1975 and ultimately led to the founding of TnaG which,
in 1996, began broadcasting exclusively in Gaelic (Hourigan, 2001: 85). The use of
Irish language in broadcasting in Ireland went back to the early days of radio in the
late 1920s, and it has significance for wider debates on ‘modernisation’ and nation
building (Watson, 2002: 739-745). In this period, the national radio station Radio
Eirann transmitted some minority language (Gaelic) programmes within its
predominantly English structure. Towards the end of 1950s, Irish governments
deepened their interest in language issues, and when the Irish Broadcasting
Organisation was formed in 1966, it aimed to dedicate 10% of its programming to
Gaelic (Howell Jr, 1992). The first separate Irish language radio station RnaG was
created in 1972 (Watson, 2002).
Spain is another example of this type of political structure where the autonomy of
different communities is acknowledged. After the collapse of General Franco’s
dictatorship in Spain, the 1978 constitution arranged the country into 17 autonomous
communities, and those communities that are considered ‘historical nationalities’
were endowed with the maximum levels of autonomy in the new structure. These
communities are Catalonia, the Basque country and Galicia (Lopez and Corominas,
1995: 173) 28 . The formation of regional broadcasting in Spain is based on the
acknowledgment that the language of each autonomous community is considered as
an official language in that region, and is therefore additional, and equal, to the
official language of the state (Castilian). There are two layers in the regional
structure where the communities are served both with ‘window’ programs of
27
The Welsh assembly does not hold power to execute policies in broadcasting.
28
Andalusia is also included in these autonomous communities.
59
regional news on the national public broadcasting system (TVE), as well as with
independent stations that have a regional coverage. The Basque television station
Euskal Telebista (ETB) was the first to broadcast in 1983 followed in the same year
by TV3. In 1989, Catalonia started its second channel Canal 33, and Galicia created
its own community television in 1985. According to the authors, the general effect
of these television and radio channels has been to ‘normalise’ minority language and
culture, especially Basque and Catalan (Lopez and Corominas, 1995: 186-187).
In the early 1980s, when the Spanish Basque country pioneered regional television,
the French Basque regional channel FR3 was transmitting only 6 hours in the
Basque language. The situation in France only began to develop after the state
monopoly over broadcasting was dissolved and the pirate, illegal radios in such
regions had become legal (Cheval, 1992).
29
At the beginning of the 1990s, the French Basque population was less than three hundred thousand
people, and was mainly a rural population. On the Spanish side however, it was a young,
industrialised population reaching about 3 million people (Chival, 1992).
30
This was also highlighted by Agus Hernan from radio Gure Irratia in the French Basque region at
an international workshop at the Central European University which was organised by the Center for
Media and Communication Studies (CMCS), Budapest, Hungary. 17th May 2007.
31
However, there is an old tradition of ethnic minority press in France. These publications are subject
to different laws than the French press, and they are either publications published abroad for the
immigrants living in France, or published in France for minority readership like the Armenian or
Yiddish newspapers (Boucaud and Stubs, 1994:86-87).
60
These examples of regional media and the struggle for cultural rights in Spain and
France are illuminating for the Turkish case as well. For example, in the mid-1990s
Basque’s autonomy was proposed by some politicians and businessmen in Turkey as
a model for solving the ‘Kurdish problem’. Although these suggestions reflected a
will to recognize the problem, they were widely considered to be empty and
32
superficial. This aspect will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6 which
explores the policy-making process behind the introduction of broadcasting in
different languages.
Nevertheless, the pioneering examples of regional media in Europe reveal that the
emergence of minority language media is closely linked to the dominant political
structure of the state and the extent to which this structure is willing and able to
accommodate ethnic and linguistic differences. But these cases also highlight
questions about nationalism in the regions. Cormack (2000), in his comparison of
cases in Britain and Ireland, argued that the existence of minority language media
might turn ‘hot’ nationalism into a less radical, ‘banal’ one and that the issues
related to language might move away from the political. Again, this will be a
significant point to consider during the following data analysis chapters where the
development of Kurdish broadcasting is discussed33.
As stated above, the significance of minority language media increased in the 1990s
in Europe and their campaigns began to be successful. According to Hourigan (2001:
96), one of the most significant factors that contributed to their success had been the
32
Hasan Cemal (2006) of Milliyet argued that this was one of the examples where the politicians
made futile comments for the recognition and the solution of the Kurdish problem that did not have a
concrete policy change.
33
In relation to the Basque debate in terms of the Kurdish problem in Turkey, a veteran journalist
Can Dündar (1995) drew attention to the fact that support for the Basque nationalist organisation
ETA which was also involved in armed struggle against central Spanish administration had decreased
since the autonomy model was established in the Basque region. This was because people believed
that they had achieved the necessary rights in the new model and political partiesthat supported
peaceful co-habitation with the Spaniards came into power. In a similar vein, Hernan expressed in the
Community media workshop in Budapest that community media in the Basque language was dealing
with general issues in the Basque language, so it was not only dealing with ethnic issues. Furthermore,
he gave examples of community media organizations making calls for a peaceful solution to the
armed struggle in the Basque country in various conferences.
61
active support of the European Union on regionalisation. This manifested itself in
European initiatives likes EBLUL 34 , Mercator 35 , and the European Charter of
Minority Languages (1992), which defined the ‘legitimacy of demands made by
European indigenous linguistic minorities since the 1980s.’ Hourigan argued that the
growing interest and attention in Europe towards minority issues, especially in
language use and media provisions, was also affected by the sobering developments
in Eastern Europe at the end of the 1980s.
34
European Bureau of Lesser Used Languages is an NGO promoting languages and linguistic
diversity. It has been established as a result of the so called Arfe Resolution by the European
Parliament in 1981. The parliament opted to trete the protection of minority and regional languages
from linguistic and cultural rights perspective rather than minority rights. www.eblul.org
35
It is a network of research and documentation centres specialising in the minority languages of the
European Union that are spoken by 40 million citizens. It was founded in 1987 as an initiative of the
EU Commission. The Mercator media centre is based at the University of Wales, Aberystwyth.
Information is available on http://www.mercator-central.org/ and http://www.aber.ac.uk/~merwww/
36
Hobsbawn (1992) distinguished between 19th century epic nation building and later 20th century
‘separatist’ nationalism that was a result of such exclusionary nationalisms observed in the Balkans at
the end of the Cold war.
37
‘The post of the OSCE High Commissioner on National Minorities was established in 1992 to
identify and seek early resolution of ethnic tensions that might endanger peace, stability or friendly
relations between OSCE participating States.’ http://www.osce.org/hcnm/. The High Commissioner
has a number of recommendations on education, language, participation in public life, and
broadcasting in terms of minority protection and linguistic rights. In 2003 OSCE recommended
guidelines for minority language broadcasting which is available
at:http://www.osce.org/documents/hcnm/2003/10/2242_en.pdf
62
European Provisions in Minority Protection and Cultural Rights
38
Adopted and opened for signature, ratification and accession in 1966 and entered on 23 March 1976.
Available at [ http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/a_ccpr.htm ]
Turkey placed reservations on Article 27
[ http://untreaty.un.org/humanrightsconvs/Chapt_IV_4/reservations/Turkey.pdf ] Accessed
19.12.2007
For a list of all ratifications and signatures, as of June 2004 see:
[ http://www.unhchr.ch/pdf/report.pdf ] Accessed 19.12.2007
63
Human rights were also codified in regional instruments such as the European
Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (1950)
(Hamelink, 2004). Since the 1980s, the EU has placed a growing emphasis on the
quality of democratisation and human rights, and the protection of minorities. These
principals were mentioned explicitly in the 1993 ‘Treaty on the European Union’
and the 1999 ‘Treaty of Amsterdam’. After 1995, human rights became an essential
element in relations with non-member countries (Arıkan, 2003).
This was due to the turbulent events that took place in Eastern and Central Europe at
the end of the 1990s and the quality of democracy in these areas was measured in
relation to the protection and welfare of their national minorities (Kastoryano, 2002).
Indeed, after the collapse of the Soviet Bloc, minority rights were considered as a
method of ‘pacifying’ populations and decreasing the possibility of clashes over
ethnic problems (Çavuşoğlu, 2005: 241). However, these international instruments
had refrained from giving a standard definition of a national ‘minority’ and
implicitly allowed flexibility for states to provide their own definitions and
understanding of the concept. Hence, states tend to consider cultural rights as
‘individual rights’ due to fears of cultural autonomy that might jeopardize social
cohesion and lead to self-determination. Therefore, although these rights do manifest
a collective dimension, they are worded as rights that belong to ‘individuals who
belong to minorities’ and place an emphasis on ‘territorial integrity.’ (Çavuşoğlu,
2005; Hamelink, 2004).
In the field of cultural rights, two basic documents, the European Charter for
Regional or Minority Languages (hereafter the Charter) and Framework Convention
for Protection of National Minorities (FCNM) 39 , provide the basis for European
standards. These documents, the Charter in particular, deal with the issue of
39
The charter was adopted in 1992 and entered into force in 1998. It is available at
[ http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/EN/Treaties/Html/148.htm ]
The Convention was opened for signature in 1995. For the convention and list of ratifications please
refer to [ http://www.coe.int/T/E/Human_Rights/Minorities ]
At the time of writing was ratified by 39 member countries.
64
linguistic rights and linguistic diversity, which is now being considered within the
broad area of cultural diversity pertain to aspects of media, education, names, public
service and relationship with judicial authorities (Özerman, 2003).
In use since 1998, FCNM is the first legally binding multilateral instrument and
emphasises that a plural and democratic society should respect the ‘ethnic, cultural,
linguistic and religious identity of each person belonging to a minority, but also
create appropriate conditions enabling them to express, preserve and develop this
identity’. However, as with the other instruments, it does not contain a definition of
national minority. It is stated in the objectives for the framework that such a
‘pragmatic approach’ was adopted because it was impossible to agree on a definition
that would satisfy all the member states.
The only countries which neither signed, nor ratified the Convention are France,
Andorra, Monaco and Turkey40. Article 9 of the convention is the most relevant to
the issue of minority language media. It stipulates that persons belonging to national
minorities are not discriminated against in terms of their access to media and
obtaining licensing in radio, television and cinema enterprises. The article also
charges parties to the convention with the duty to provide adequate measures to
allow persons belonging to national minorities to have access to media. In terms of
language protection in areas of justice, education, administration, and media the
Charter constitutes the basic principals. The Charter, which entered into force in
1998, offers a definition of a minority language and aims to preserve the historical
regional minority languages in Europe. In an international conference in 2001,
European Year of Languages, representatives of intergovernmental bodies such as
the CoE and OSCE repeatedly emphasised the pertinence of the Charter in relation
to an alarming ‘resurgence’ of xenophobia, racism, and nationalism in Europe and
stated that:
40
[ http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/Commun/ChercheSig.asp?NT=157&CM=8&DF=4/4/2008&CL
=ENG ] [Accessed 25th March 2008].
65
‘The charter embraces difference rather than fears it…The charter is
therefore a major instrument, the most comprehensive and precise treaty in
the world which deals with the management of diversity’ (De Varennes,
2001: 17).
Nevertheless, suffice it to mention here that, Turkey is neither a party to the Charter
nor the Framework Convention, and has placed a reservation on Article 27 of the
ICCPR. Therefore, it displays a selective response to the implementation of the key
treaties that relate to minority protection. The reasons for its selective approach are
to be found in the ways in which national minorities are defined in Turkey, which
will be explored further in the next chapter.
66
So far this chapter has discussed the role and function attributed to media of mass
communication in the formation of identity and culture both on a national and sub-
national or regional level. This discussion has demonstrated that a standard language
and a communicative space that was in line with the boundaries of the territorial
state were necessary components of modern social formation and social cohesion. In
the case of ‘historical nationalities’ or regions in Europe, access to media in the
minority language facilitated recognition of cultural diversity and the normalisation
of historically embedded tensions between the regions and central administrations.
The developments in Eastern Europe disrupted the Cold War consensus on
minorities and paved the way for setting international standards.
67
regulation within national media systems allowed them to set up their own
community media outlets 41 . Therefore, research on diasporic media has mainly
focused on the implications of immigrant groups’ media consumption and
production in the mediation, maintenance and negotiation of cultural identities (King
and Wood, 2001; Karim, 1998, 2003; Sreberny, 2000, 2002; Silverstone, 2002;
Milikowski, 2000; Rigoni, 2005; Ogan, 2001; Cottle, 2000; Gillespie, 1995).
In thinking about the diasporas and the media, research indicated close relationships
between diaspora and imagined community, diaspora and public sphere and diaspora
and minority, which had similarities to the older approaches that were utilised in the
analysis of media and national communicative space.
A central concern which prompted scholarly interest in diasporic groups and their
media use was the influence of satellite television in the daily life of the diasporas.
The development of satellite technology allowed diasporic groups to have access to
transnational television 42 which provided various representations, images and
narrations of a group identity. Here the key concern was to explore the influences of
particularising media practices that differed from the universalising national media
culture. One of the first examples of this kind of research in the UK was conducted
by Marie Gillespie, which inquired into the form of imagined community that might
be created or eroded through satellite TV among the South Asian diaspora in
London (Gillespie, 1995; 2000). The use of media by ethnic groups has since
become a growing research interest where the relationship between ethnic media and
identity formation can be analysed. However, there seemed to be a lack of hard
evidence for the impact of the media on the identity formation of a particular group.
Rather, such research more often revealed generational and gender differences in
media consumption (Hargreaves and Mahdjoub, 1997; Gillespie, 1995).
41
Tsagarousianou (2002) suggests that the appropriation of community media by ethnic groups,
circulating and producing their own media through minority press and local radio, has been one of the
most effective ways of using community media.
42
See Chalaby (2005; 2002) for the emergence of transnational television in Europe and its different
examples worldwide.
68
The availability of transnational television channels that target immigrant
populations and dispersed groups also had implications for multicultural strategies
and policies within various European countries. The use of transnational television
from the country of origin has created new questions and moral panic about ‘cultural
ghettoisation’ and the integration and acculturation of minorities. This is because the
capacity of national media systems to bind the citizens around common ideals was
regarded to be eroding in the face of emerging particularistic media practices
(Milikowski, 2000; Aksoy and Robins, 2000).
For instance, when national broadcasters like the Turkish Radio Television (TRT)
began to target the migrant Turkish population in Germany, Belgium, Holland and
Denmark via the TRT INT channel in 1990, it created mixed reactions and responses
within these countries in relation to their policies for immigrants (Aksoy and Robins,
2000: 347).
In Holland, there had existed some provisions to cater for the needs of migrant
population since the 1980s (Teerink-Bovenkerk, 1994: 41). These were an extension
of general minority policies which eventually rendered the official recognition of
Holland as a multicultural society. Media in this context was considered to be
instrumental in both making immigrants into ‘citizens of Dutch society’ as well as
‘facilitating the development of their own cultures’. But, as the author emphasised,
state sponsored general minority policies, did not emerge as a result of social justice
concerns, but rather as the result of a ‘concern for political containment.’
On the other hand, as Aksoy and Robins (2000: 344) expressed, German authorities
initially welcomed transnational channels because they ‘compensated’ for the lack of
minority media provisions in Germany. However, they eventually provoked panic
about the ‘new Turkish media space’ across Europe as new concerns arose as to
whether they would lead to a failure of integration policies by reminding the
migrants of their ‘cultural boundaries’. In the Dutch context, Milikowski (2000: 444)
also responded to similar concerns about the impact of transnational television on
the ‘ethnicisation’ of Dutch society, and argued that instead of adding to the
69
enclosure and isolation of immigrant groups, transnational television has in fact
contributed to a process of ‘de-ethnicisation’. Ogan (2001) similarly expressed that
these media practices opened up new questions about the boundaries of group
identities in Holland.
In addition to the various narratives of ‘imagined community’ that were brought into
focus by the new media order, another form of relationship that was put under
scrutiny in this field of research was that between the public sphere and
diasporas/minorities.
If, as mentioned above, the national media facilitated a national public sphere, then
the questions posed in this context should address the feasibility and quality of a
public sphere for dispersed groups. For instance, Gitlin (1998) argued that the notion
of public sphere was shattering into little ‘sphericules’. Cunningham (2001: 133)
utilised this concept in order to explore its applicability for the diasporic experience
and regarded the emergent ‘minoriterian’ public spheres or sphericules as positive,
vibrant and globalised, but very specific to self/community-making and identity 43.
The question of public spheres for minority/diasporic groups was also pertinent to
the growing proliferation of minority media outlets produced by the migrant or
diasporic communities in Europe. Minority media production not only furthered
discussions on identity formation, but it also created new questions about culture,
participation and democracy that were central to the debates on the public sphere.
For instance, Tsagarousianou (2002: 211) focused on this dynamic and inquired
whether ‘ethnic community media in their current forms can promote public
enlightenment, participation, debate and identity enhancement in the community
they address or whether they might contribute to further ghettoisation of the
communities in question.’ Tsagarousianou, in her evaluation of the Asian and
Cypriot community media in the UK, maintained that ethnic community media,
which was chiefly concerned with meeting the informational needs of the local
community, was increasingly transforming into diasporic media, thereby taking on a
43
See Robins and Aksoy (2003; 2005) for its critique.
70
‘double role’ in the ‘definition’ and ‘redefinition’ of the community. This ‘double
role’ of the minority/diasporic media, especially in terms of media production, is a
key relationship that highlights the dynamics between local and the global, or
particularistic and the universal.
The second problem is related to choosing between different versions of identity that
are offered by the particularistic media. According to Dayan, particularistic media
offered ‘competing’ versions of a group’s identity that may emanate differently in
different national contexts and may or may not be reactionary to universalism.
Consequently, Dayan suggested that in considering the particularising impact of the
minority media vis-à-vis the national public sphere, ‘continuities between the
majority and the minority media’ should be taken into account, as these might
indicate a permeable relationship between the minority public sphere and the larger
71
public sphere. Dayan’s remarks resonate with the concerns that have been raised
about cultural ghettoisation and the acculturation of minorities. However, his
reflections are particularly pertinent to this research project, because in referring to
particularistic media and ‘fragile’ communities, Dayan makes a special reference to
groups like the Jewish, Armenian and Kurdish diasporas. He argues that studying
particularistic media in such fragile communities becomes particularly important
because such media not only link dispersed groups but they also act as ‘instruments
of survival for endangered cultures’. This aspect of minority media will be taken up
in the following chapters in relation to the transformation of the non-Muslim
minority media in Turkey.
The survival of fragile group language and identity via particularistic media not only
relates to the number of speakers and the population as suggested by Cormack
(1998), but is also tied in with the ‘multicultural strategies of the state’ (Riggins,
1992). Therefore, as Husband (2005: 467) has suggested, any assessment of the
conditions of existence for minority media must also address the conditions that
relate to the specific condition of the minority itself, as well as its place in the
‘socio-political fabric of the larger society’ and how they related to power relations
in the social context.
Although the needs of national minorities and immigrant groups within the dominant
culture and national communicative space might differ from each other, it is possible
to suggest that they share similar concerns in terms of their efforts for recognition
and the survival of their cultural identity. Hence, both of these efforts as reflected in
particularistic media can be seen as an intervention in the public sphere and part of a
participatory democracy. The efforts of national or historical minorities in Wales and
Catalonia for recognition of their identities were embedded in historical struggles,
which in the 1990s were supported by the European Union. However, as Hourigan
(2007: 251-52) expressed, it has not been possible to observe the same level of
support for immigrant minority languages in education and media in European
policies. The reasons of this can be found in the different approaches to integration
72
and social cohesion and multicultural policies implemented in various European
countries.
Conclusion
At the beginning of the chapter the relationship between media and nation was
discussed in relation to print media and broadcasting, which was instrumental in the
creation of a sense of belonging and cohesion among citizens. National public
service broadcasting systems were attributed a special role in the creation of a robust
political and cultural identity for citizens as well as providing them with equal
access to the formation of the public opinion. This capacity was highlighted via the
concept of the public sphere and public service broadcasting was considered to be
the most appropriate system for its realisation. Such systems were able to
‘democratise’ communication for citizens that were divided along the lines of class
or their location (Scannel, 1989). However, as Morley’s (2000) remarks suggested,
the idea of a common public sphere also stimulated new questions about its capacity
to reflect the diversity within a national symbolic space.
As the rest of the chapter demonstrated, the old relationship between media and
nation, as implicated in the notion of a single common public sphere, was contested
by a number of factors such as immigration, regionalisation, advances in new
technologies and the growing impact of supra-national elements such as the EU
within global governance. It was therefore suggested that, especially in relation to
migrants, minority media experiences should be viewed outside of the national
framework (Robins and Aksoy, 2005, 2003). This view is of use, but it might not be
applicable to the entire diversity of minority media performance, especially in
74
contexts such as Turkey, where the discursive and legislative frameworks in relation
to cultural diversity change slowly and the dominance of a national framework is
still prevalent. In this regard, the Turkish example also brings forth another central
dilemma in media studies, between those views which suggest the need to transcend
the national framework, as put forward by Robins and Aksoy above, and those that
continue to emphasize the significance of the national framework (Curran and Park,
2000) which is still deemed to be as principle organizing feature in the domain of
media and culture. Therefore, in terms of minority media in Turkey, the national
framework is still of relevance as a departure point for analysis.
A general conclusion that can be drawn from the review of literature in this chapter
is that minority or diasporic/ethnic media practices are relevant for understanding
issues of exclusion, inclusion, democracy, participation, and survival, as well as the
wider dilemmas about accommodating diversity within the national culture and
efforts to prevent its dissolution at the same time.
Hence, one fruitful way to explore these dilemmas especially in contexts such as
Turkey, would be to conceptualise them in terms of the relationship between media
and citizenship. Therefore, the next chapter considers the citizenship practices in
Turkey in order to grasp the dynamics at work in the recognition of diversity in
Turkey.
75
Chapter 3
National Identity Formation Minorities and Citizenship
Practices in Turkey
Introduction
In the previous chapter the global dynamics and pressures that disturbed the ‘old’
relationship between nation and mediated communication were discussed and the
developments in regional, minority and/or diasporic media that operate in Europe
were reviewed. It demonstrated that the mediation of cultural identities and the
performance of minority/diasporic media pertained to wider dilemmas about the
citizenship regime in a given society and its ability to accommodate 44 and
acknowledge diversity in the national culture. These dilemmas were accentuated by
processes of economic and cultural globalisation, the significance of human rights
regimes and the increasing influence of new forms of supranational governance such
as the European Union, and were labelled as post-national challenges to citizenship.
The main premise of this chapter is that these processes are also central to
understanding the changing citizenship regime in Turkey and are implicated in the
transformation of the particularistic media.
The media that belonged to different ethnic or minority groups in Turkey can be
traced back to the late Ottoman period within which publications in different
languages of the various millets were possible in the multi-lingual setting. They
especially flourished along with the Turkish newspapers during what is known as the
Tanzimat Reform (1839-1876) period. This period saw the influence of European
institutions and ideas such as secularism, liberalism and nationalism, leading to the
transformation of the state apparatus as well as the social structure (Zürcher, 1998).
44
Shachar (2000:65) states that, ‘[I]n the multicultural context, ‘accommodation’ refers to a wide
range of state measures designed to facilitate identity groups’ practices and norms.’
76
In this regard, the Tanzimat reforms of the Ottoman period are considered to be the
first attempt at modernisation in Turkey and, as mentioned in Chapter 1, were in line
with similar developments in South-Eastern Europe, where modernisation was
associated with adapting Western norms, or Western Europeanisation (Featherstone
and Kazamias, 2001).
The modernisation efforts in the 19th century sought to preserve the diverse, multi-
faith and multi-lingual structure of the Empire by granting equal rights to all its
elements, but could not prevent its dissolution at the end of the First World War.
When the Republic of Turkey emerged in 1923 in its place, it continued with the
modernisation project in a more controlled, strict ’authoritarian’ and ’dirigiste’ way
(Sofos, 2001). The reasons for this more dirigiste form of modernisation need to be
contextualised in terms of the traumatic transition from a multi-faith, multi-ethnic
and multi-lingual Empire into a secular and putatively ethnically homogeneous
nation state, because the traces of this traumatic experience continue to shape the
collective memory and perceptions of cultural differences and minorities in Turkey.
Hence, this chapter accounts for how national identity and citizenship practices have
been formed, contested and re-defined in Turkey in order to shed light on the factors
that have shaped the expression of cultural identities in the public realm and media.
In doing so, this chapter addresses some of the key research questions as outlined in
Chapter 1 which aim to explore the internal and external dynamics and factors that
influence the mediation of cultural identities. This chapter argues that the
recognition of diversity in Turkey has often been too costly to be accommodated in
the national ethos. Consequently, the relationship between the state and minorities
has reflected an uneasy tension that has changed according to the domestic as well as
international political climate. These dynamics in turn have been seminal in shaping
the limits of expressions of cultural identities in the public realm in general, and
through media in particular. In order to account for these processes, this chapter first
briefly looks at early attempts at modernisation in the 19th century, and then moves
on to examine events that shaped the citizenship regime and minority relations in
Republican Turkey.
77
Turkish Modernisation/Westernisation: an Overview
The Ottoman Empire constituted one of ‘the most advanced examples of pre-
modernity and pre-industrialised empires’ within which the transformative effects of
modernity on its complex structure have been slow and long-lasting processes
(Tekeli, 2002). The Turkish modernity which has been taking shape over three
centuries has been full of ‘divergences, dilemmas and tensions’ (Kaliber, 2002: 107)
and continues to be relevant not only for questions of ‘identity’ in Turkey but also
for questions of identity in Europe in general.
Westernisation, the ‘approach that aims to reach the societal and ideological
composition of Western Europe’ (Mardin, 1991: 9), constitutes the conceptual and
ideological framework within which modernity is experienced in Turkey. It has first
emerged as a practice in Ottoman and Russian empires in the early 18th and late 17th
centuries respectively (Belge, 2002). In the Turkish context the concept has been
used synonymously with modernisation (Kocabaşoğlu, 2002) or more specifically is
considered to be the ‘constitutive element of modernity’ (Kahraman, 2002: 125).
In the first period of Westernisation the emphasis was laid upon the introduction of
Western military institutions in the Empire in order to modernise and enhance its
78
military power. Although the Ottoman Empire has always been in contact with so-
called ‘Western Civilisation’, following the West as a ‘model’ had not initially been
a concern because, especially during its high era, the Empire was seen to be
‘superior’ to the West. However, the decline that began in the 18th century led to a
change in this perception (Mardin, 1991: 9-10). In this period modernisation did not
involve a change in the social structure (Mardin, 1991; Tekeli, 2002). Even in the
early 19th century it neither included sentiments of ‘national awakening’ of
Turkishness nor any particular political interest in achieving national sovereignty45.
Western ideologies began to infiltrate the society after 1876 when the first
constitution was promulgated (Mardin, 1991; Tekeli, 2002).
During the second stage, which began in 1908 with the Young Turk period, there
emerged a more systematic attempt to engage with the notion of Westernisation and
ideologies such as nationalism. In fact, for some scholars who study Turkish
modernisation, this affirms the ‘continuity’ between the Young Turk and Republican
era, which is in contrast with the general tendency to consider the latter as a
complete ‘break’ from the old regime 46 . The ideology of ‘nationalism’ was
examined by the main social scientist of the Young Turks, Ziya Gökalp, who
attempted to offer a solution for the dilemmas represented by Westernisation by
suggesting a ‘mid way or synthesis between Westernism and Turkism’ (Sofos and
Özkırımlı, 2008; Kahraman, 2005: 74-75)47.
45
In the Ottoman Empire, religion, rather than ethnicity and language constituted the principle
‘marker’ of identity. Therefore the emeregence of Turkish nationalism was a ‘late comer’ ideology in
the Empire, which was contrary to growing national consciousness in the Balkans in this period
(Sofos and Özkırımlı, 2008:16).
46
The classic text that argues that the foundation of the Republic represents a break with the old
regime belongs to Bernard Lewis. The continuation thesis is strongly propagated by Eric jan Zürcher
who extends the Young Turk era from 1908 until 1950. Kahraman (2007) takes this a step further and
argues that the second state of westernisation begins in 1908, continues through 1923 and ends in
1980. The post-1990 period represents the final and third stage of Westernisation.
47
Gökalp’s understanding of nation was not based on ethnicity, race or geography. It rather was seen
‘as a group composed of men and women who had gone through the same education, who received
the same acquisitions in language, religion, morality and aesthetics’ (Sofos and Özkırımlı, 2008:34-
35).
79
Gökalp distinguished ‘West as technology’ from ‘West as ideology’. The former did
not present problems because it was considered to be universal (Kahraman, 2005). In
terms of the latter, Gökalp distinguished between its universal and national aspects,
which were incorporated into his terminology as nuances between ‘civilisation’
(medeniyet) and ‘culture’ (hars) respectively. According to Gökalp, the technology
of the West could be acquired without losing the moral values that were provided by
religion and national culture (Sofos and Özkırımlı, 2008).
48
Following the end of the Second World War the term ‘Westernisation’ was replaced with the term
modernisation (Kocabaşoğlu, 2002).
49
There are three dominant paradigms that have problematised Turkish modernisation: political or
the state-bureacucracy centric model; economic or political-economy centric and the sociological or
identity centric explanations of modernisation (Kaliber, 2002; Keyman, 2001). Despite
80
Turkey's emergence in the international order in 1923 as a modern, secular republic
among the predominantly Muslim states was also interpreted through the
modernisation theories in the 1950s and 1960s. In the works of Bernard Lewis and
David Lerner, Turkish modernisation was celebrated as a ‘Western inspired’, ‘elite
led’ and ‘consensus based’ form of successful modernisation (Kasaba and Bozdoğan,
1997: 2). Hence, Turkey was considered as an exemplary model of universally
defined modernisation and it was believed to signify that ‘modernity as a project’
would be possible even in Muslim countries.
In the period that followed the de-colonisation of former British, Dutch or French
Empires modernisation theories were re-visited under the premise of post-colonial
studies or approaches which focused on the ‘formative colonial encounters in the
shaping of national cultures and nation-states’ (Kandiyoti, 2002: 3). Post-colonial
approaches initially took issue with the nation building process and the role of state
in development in the Third World countries. Although they offered a critique of
earlier modernisation theories, they still shared similar concerns such as eliminating
‘cultural backwardness’ and ‘institutionalising the universalising practices of
rationalistic modernity’ in the new nation states (Robotham, 2000)50.
In the 1980s the post-colonial critique took a different perspective. Although the
‘centrality of the colonial experience’ was still emphasised, the ‘psychological and
cultural dimensions of colonialism’ were also brought into debate and the focus
shifted from the economic/political dimension towards cultural and personal
experiences (Dirlik, 2002: 431,442). The new understanding of the term post-
theirdifferences, they affirm the ‘basic parameters of modernisation paradigm and attribute a
privileged status to the state and bureaucratic institutions.
50
Robotham (2000:90-91) here refers to the so-called ‘post-colonial dilemma’ that is the ways in
which, in their attempt to overcome colonialism, developing countries were ‘trapped’ in the Western
discourses and notions such as citizenship, nationhood, democracy. As Robotham states, the ‘inability
to escape Westernisation even at the moment of deepest critique lay at the heart of the post-colonial
dilemma’.
81
colonial also reflected more ‘epistemological’ rather that ‘sociological’ concerns
(Robotham, 2000: 90).
One of the key texts that inspired post-colonial studies was Edward Said’s
Orientalism in which Said (1978: 2) defined the concept as ‘an intellectual attitude
revolving around an epistemological and ontological dichotomy between the orient
(the East) and the occident (the West)’. However, approaching Ottoman and/or
Turkish experience of modernisation through Orientalism or post-colonial inquiry
has remained insufficient and ambivalent both in Turkey and within the wider
literature (Ahıska, 2005).
Firstly, as Keyder (2005: 12) explains, contrary to the ‘anti-colonial’ sentiments that
shaped Third World nationalisms, Turkish nationalism ‘did not exhibit an anti-
Western nativism’ and aimed to ‘locate’ the Turkish experience in the already
established parameters of Western modernity, rather than challenging it. Therefore,
modernisation theories were acceptable for the Turkish reformers who ‘saw their
society as backward, but not essentially different’. Furthermore, the modernisation
paradigm continued to be dominant and treated Turkey as a ‘unique’ experience or
formation in terms of its ‘religion, state formation, pattern of nationalism and diverse
style of modernity’ both in the Muslim world at large and Eastern Europe (Gellner,
1997: 123). Also, although some references have been made to 19th century
westernisation and modernisation, ‘orientalism’ in Turkey has not been
acknowledged as a problem and the debates on Turkish experience from this
perspective have remained ‘ambivalent’ (Mutman, 2002: 194). Ahıska (2005) for
instance draws attention to the way in which Said has ignored the Ottoman period in
Orientalism precisely because it does not ‘suit’ the binary oppositions between the
‘Orient and the ‘Occident’51.
51
Ahıska (2003:353) utilises ‘Occidentalism’ as a useful term to understand the problems of the
‘boundary of East-West divide’ and argues that in theorising Turkish modernity ‘we can neither
unproblematically herald the Western model nor dismiss the fanstasy of the “the West”’.
Acknowledging that the post-colonial critics have not really been interested in the Turkish example,
Ahıska still maintains that new approaches to the Turkish experience can benefit from a critical
82
Although questions of colonialism might still be relevant to the struggles and
marginalisation of peoples such as the Kurds and Palestinians52, the colonial legacy
is ‘no longer a major force shaping the world’ (Dirlik, 2003: 439). Post-colonial
approaches have also been criticised for ignoring the political economy of social
change in the developing world, for ‘looking back’ and not being able to address the
contemporary transformations that are taking place as a result of global capitalism
(Dirlik, 2003; Robotham, 2000).
Furthermore, in the post-cold War period the terminology in debates and analysis of
modernity and social change shifted from modernisation to ‘globalisation’
(Kocabaşoğlu, 2002: 15) and new perspectives and terminologies such as ‘non-
Western’ or ‘alternative’ modernities emerged in discussions of globalisation
(Keyman, 2001: 9-11).
In fact, the so-called ‘crisis’53 of Turkish modernisation that began in the 1980s and
accelerated in the 1990s has been instrumental in bringing forth discussions of ‘non-
Western’ or ‘alternative’ experiences of modernity in the Turkish context (Göle,
1999, Öniş, 2006; Keyman,2007).
83
Non-Western and/or alternative modernities have emphasized both the ‘specificity
of local experiences and inescapability of global modernity’ and proposed a
‘context’ or ‘site-specific’ reading which could capture the ‘multi-directional path’
of global modernity, that is ‘both globalising and localising’ (Göle, 1999: 143;
Gaonkar, 1999)54.
In the domestic level, alternative modernity as a notion referred to the ways in which
‘state-centric’ and hegemonic model of modernisation have been critiqued (Keyman,
2002). In fact, the questioning of Turkish experience of modernity in the 1990s has
also coincided with what is now seen as the third and final stage of Turkish
westernisation (Kahraman, 2005). Here, ‘Westernisation’ is considered to have ‘re-
emerged’ as a crucial concept in terms of Turkey’s increasing integration with the
European Union and its responses to contemporary globalisation (Kahraman, 2002;
Ahıska, 2002). Whilst the first and second period of Westernisation did not include
‘democracy’ as part of modernisation, in its current stage Westernisation is taken to
mean ‘European integration’ and offers the potential to make Turkey more
democratic, free and humane (Çiğdem, 2002: 81; Kahraman, 2005). In terms of this
thesis, as the following discussion will reveal in more detail, the significance of
54
Göle provides ‘excess’ secularism in Turkey as well as the Islamic experiences of modernity as
good examples of non-Western experiences of modernity.
84
current stage of Europeanisation or Westernisation lies in its role giving ‘legitimacy
to the recent politics of difference, identity and recognition’ (Kahraman, 2005: 85).
The debates on modernity became more acute after the relationships between social
actors in the modern world began to change, eroding the ‘old logic of identity’ - i.e.
the principles which had previously organised the collective social identities of class,
race, nation, gender (Hall, 1991). The changes in these relationships were
accentuated by the processes of globalisation that, as King (1996: 22) has argued,
brought the ‘notion of a national formation, of a national economy which could be
represented through a national cultural identity under considerable pressure’. Indeed,
the belief in the notion of the nation state as the ‘normative basis of human
organisation’ and national culture as ‘humanity’s final goal and attribute’ was
destroyed after the developments following the Second World War (Smith, 1990).
85
There is a vast literature on globalisation and the concept is usually used to refer to
the intensification of interconnectedness and the stretching of social relations across
national borders through the increasing flow of images, ideas, people, and networks.
For instance, Held (2004: 15) identifies regionalisation, intensification of flows,
increasing penetration of different cultures, impact of transnational organisations
like the UN, WTO and the spread of information technologies as key phenomena
signifying the impact of globalisation. The rich literature on globalisation includes
many different perspectives on its causes and consequences and its impact on the
nation state (Giddens, 1990; Robertson, 1992, Held et al., 1999; Featherstone, 1990;
Tomlinson, 1999).
For Robertson, (1992) the national society formation established between 1870-1920
was challenged at the end of the Cold war period due to the prominence global civil
society and transnational organisations had gained in the interstate system. This was
also the period in which conflicting ideologies such as nationalism, cosmopolitanism,
human rights and fundamentalism made their presence felt in the global structure
(Rantanen, 2005: 21) 55 .Modern globalisation lasted from 1850 to 1945 (Held et
al,1999).
55
Rantanen (2005) names this period as the ‘antagonism’ period of globalisation.
86
state’ as the universal form of human political organisation (Held et al, 1999: 425).
In recent discussions of contemporary forms of globalisation the importance of
‘place’, ‘meaning’ and ‘scale’ of the national have been highlighted because the
interaction between the global and the national is deemed to create a set of new
negotiations and responses between the two dynamics (Sassen, 2007).
In the Turkish context, the state was the major force behind the modernisation
process during the early Republican period (1923-1950) and implemented a number
of cultural, economic and sometimes coercive measures to facilitate the social
integration. Following the post-1945 transition to a multi-party political system - due
to the rise of Leftist ideologies and increasing social democratic demands (Derviş et
al 2004) - the basic tenets of state-led modernisation began to be seriously
scrutinised and questioned.
This was also the period when Turkey became a part of the emerging ‘global
governance’ (Nash, 2000: 54-55) regime after World War II. This regime was
institutionalised by the creation of a number of international organisations such as
the UN, Council of Europe, CSCE (later OSCE), and the IMF in order to maintain
stability and economic and political co-operation between nation states. As Held
(1995: 83-84) maintains, the new order put the Westphalian order, which legitimised
the nation state’s sovereignty, under scrutiny in three interrelated areas. Firstly,
single persons and groups became subjects of international law in documents such as
the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948), the European Convention for
the protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (1950) and the
Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (1966). Secondly, the scope of international
law expanded to cover economic, social and environmental matters as manifested in
the establishment of organisations such as the IMF and World Bank. Lastly, the
doctrine that emphasised the consent of the state as the source of international law
was challenged. In this way, many sources of international law sought for
recognition in the forms of different treaties, conventions as well as the ‘will of the
international community’
87
The transition to the UN system did not totally displace the old order, but as Held
argues elsewhere, it signified a shift from a territorially based political community to
an ‘internationalization and transnationalization of politics, the deterritorialization of
aspects of political decision making pertinent to states, the development of regional
and global law and a multilayered system of global governance’ (Held et al, 1999:
77).
At the beginning of the 1980s the transition to a liberal market economy started to
take place and Turkey’s integration with world markets accelerated. This period is
considered to represent a ‘turning point’ in state-society relations in Turkey because,
as Göle (1994: 221) expresses, westernisation - i.e. ‘the state induced modernizing
movement’ which began in the late 19th century - ‘virtually came to an end’ as the
dominant political paradigm. The public assertions of particularistic ethnic and
religious identities, which were previously confined to the private realm as a result
of modernisation, also coincided with this period. That is why, as some argued at the
beginning of 1980s, Turkey was a ground on which ‘old and new’, ‘Turk and Kurd’,
‘Islamist and secular’, ‘rural and urban’ were in constant struggle and turmoil
(Kasaba and Bozdoğan, 1997: 13).
88
visible, comprehensive and ‘radical’ in the 1990s when various social actors, from
liberals to Muslim intellectuals, openly contested the Republican doctrines as ‘top-
down’, ‘anti-democratic’ and ‘patriarchal’ (Kasaba and Bozdoğan, 1997: 2-3) Such
claims, as many scholars have observed, destabilised established notions of
citizenship and national identity and the ‘modernity’ that was being propagated by
the Republic. For some, therefore, it indicated a ‘representation and legitimacy
crisis’ for Turkish modernisation (Keyman, 2005; Baban, 2005; Kahraman, 2005).
Even after Turkey’s candidacy to the European Union, disputes between the pro-
European liberal elites and traditional Republican elites in relation to further
democratisation and pluralism raised similar concerns as to whether Turkey was
‘resisting globalisation’ (Rumford, 2003).Tensions over the visibility and expression
of cultural identities in the public realm have become more acute during the
Europeanisation reform period, which began following the 1999 Helsinki summit
when Turkey became a candidate to the European Union.
As stated previously the current efforts of European integration is significant for the
ways in which it is offering ‘legitimacy’ to politics of identity. Whilst the following
chapters attempt to discuss its potential to transform the mediation of cultural
identities in Turkey, this chapter aims to offer an account of the historical
development of the events that shaped the citizenship regime and minority relations
in both Ottoman and Republican periods. Therefore, it first considers late Ottoman
and early Republican periods and the latter sections of the chapter discuss post-Cold
War developments and the impact of Europeanisation reforms on the protection of
minorities.
89
constitutional movements of 1876 and 1908, and culminated in the establishment of
the Republic in 1923.
Secondly, the minority media produced by various millets in the Empire also
flourished in the Tanzimat period. For example, the first Armenian newspaper was a
version of the official gazette Takvim-i Vekayi (1831), published under the name
Liro Kir in Istanbul, and the first Kurdish newspaper, Kürdistan, emerged in 1898 in
Cairo (Topuz, 2003). At a later stage, the new medium of newspaper was used in the
dissemination of new concepts and ideologies among the Turkish millet. For
instance, a group of civil servants, the Young Ottomans, initiated their own
newspapers in the early 1860s where they introduced new concepts like ‘public
opinion’, ‘freedom’, ‘fatherland’, ‘Turk’, ‘community’, and ‘nation’, terms which
became influential in the creation of the first constitutional order (Mardin, 1962:
326-327)56 The first wave of modernization had two aims: achieving a constitutional
monarchy and granting equal rights to non-Muslims under the premises of
Ottomanism.
56
Anderson (1983) maintains that the seeds of Turkish nationalism were emanating from these
pioneering newspapers.
90
In relation to Ottoman membership, four basic reforms particularly related to the
non-Muslim millet in the Empire. These introduced security of life, honour and
property of the subject, the abolition of tax farming, regular orderly recruitment to
the armed forces, fair and public trial, and the equality of all people of all religions
in the application of these laws (Lewis, 1961; Zürcher, 1998).
This particular reform, which considers all subjects - Muslims and non-Muslims - as
equal citizens in law, signified a pivotal shift from the millet system as the basis of
political and social organisation for the multi-ethnic empire. In an attempt to
establish equality while maintaining the official ideology of Ottomanism, which
aimed to keep all the diverse elements under a common identity, the first legal
regulation regarding Ottoman membership57 was introduced in 1869 and regarded
those born to Ottoman parents, as ‘Ottomans’ (Đçduygu et al, 1999: 193). However,
granting equal rights to all subjects was met with resentment58 and the changes were
perceived to be ‘external interference’ by the Christian West in the world of Islam.
Furthermore, it also did not prevent the proliferation of nationalistic ideas among
different millets across the Empire that eventually led to its dissolution (Zürcher,
1998; Zürcher, 1984)
The first constitution, introduced in 1876, was short lived. The new organisation of
Ottoman membership could not offer a remedy to the diffusion of nationalism in the
Western provinces and the accelerating tensions were settled at the 1878 Berlin
Congress59, through which the Empire lost one third of its territory and 20% of its
57
The regulation did not employ the concept of citizenship, but something more like an Ottoman
subject. Ottomanism was one of the three competing ideologies – also including Turkism and
Islamism – that were taken up by the political elite in their quest to prevent the decline of the Empire
(Lewis, 1961; Ahmad, 1993; Özkırımlı and Sofos, 2008).
58
According to Lewis, changing the millet system was the most radical infringement of the Islamic
tradition because tradition and Islamic law allowed tolerance and protection for non-Muslims residing
in a Muslim state. However, this tolerance was based on the assumption that the ‘tolerated
communities were separate and inferior, and were moreover clearly marked as such’ (Lewis
1961:105).
59
Preece (1997) argued that the Berlin Congress was one of the most significant international
attempts in minority protection before the end of First World War, but it also signified the beginning
91
population, especially in the European provinces60 (Zürcher, 1998). In the aftermath
of the Congress the constitution was suspended and an absolutist monarchy was
declared. Although the constitutional regime was reinstated in 1908 due to the
efforts of a group of civil and military bureaucratic elite - the Young Turks - the loss
of the lands at the end of Balkan War in 1913 traumatised the ideal of an Ottoman
identity (Ahmad, 1993: 39). Furthermore, as Berkes (1961) has expressed, a similar
awakening among the non-Turkish Muslim elements dismantled the belief in the
‘unity’ of the Muslim nation, and made it evident that Ottomanism could no longer
provide a base for belonging (Berkes, 1961). Hence the last attempt to maintain the
‘multi-national unity’ of the Ottoman Empire failed. The failure of reforms has been
instrumental in the birth of idea of a nation states based on Turkish identity
(Özkırımlı and Sofos, 2008).
As Zürcher (1998) states, the consequences of demographic change were mostly felt
in the cultural composition of society. As he explains, Anatolia was 80% Muslim
of Western powers’ involvement in the issues of minorities in the international treaties that proceeded
it.
60
It included the lands in Romania, Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Thessalia,
parts of Anatolia and Cyprus.
61
For a detailed study on the minorities in the demographical censuses in Turkey see (Dündar, 1999).
92
before the wars and became 98% Muslim after them. The Armenian community62
had shrunk to about 65,000 and the Greek community was down from around 2
million to 120,000. Apart from smaller groups - such as Greek, Armenian, and
Syriac speaking Christians, Spanish speaking Jews, Circassian, Laz and Arabic-
speaking Muslims - linguistically the only two large groups left were the Turks and
the Kurds. The Ottoman Empire was defeated in the First World War and the empire
collapsed in 1918 at the end of the war. In 1919, a national independence movement
was initiated by officers in the army under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal.
In the aftermath of the First World War, when new nation states emerged out of the
Ottoman, Habsburg and German empires, the League of Nations 63 formulated a
series of minority treaties such as Sevres (1920) and Lausanne (1923) due to the
diverse nature of the new states (Preece, 1997: 80-83). In this new setting, minority
rights were expanded to include language rights and a minimal degree of cultural
autonomy. Turkey was also a signatory to both these treaties.
The Treaty of Serves (1920) never came into force, but it is still associated with
being divided and labelled as the Sevres Syndrome in the collective memory.
According to Sevres, the Empire would shrink into a small state with Istanbul as
capital, an independent Armenia and the creation of an autonomous Kurdistan in
eastern Anatolia. Italy and Greece would have acquired lands in coastal areas with
Britain and France allowed to establish colonies in Palestine, Syria, Lebanon, and
modern Iraq (Zürcher, 1998). The treaty had a traumatic effect on the Turks and led
to the perception of minority issues as an instrument of ‘ethnic dismemberment’ and
‘a pretext for external interference’, rather than emerging from principles of freedom
62
The mass deportation and killings of Armenians took place in 1915. Turkish and Armenian
scholars as well as state officials hotly dispute the scale of events and the terms to employ in their
description. For the Turkish part the official discourse defines the events as ‘mass deportation’ as a
result of civil unrest. For the Armenian part the events amount to ‘genocide’. It is beyond the scope of
this study to analyse the nature of the events that took place in 1915.
63
The League of Nations was established at the Versailles Treaty at the end of the First World War. It
had 63 members and aimed at the preservation of peace and security as well as encouraging social
and economic cooperation (Held, 2004:85).
93
and equality (Soner, 2005: 292-293). As Soner rightly points out, failure to prevent
the dissolution of Empire despite granting equal citizenship rights to its elements led
to a general distrust, suspicion and hatred of minority claims in Turkey. This legacy
was transferred to the Republican period. Indeed, Oran (2007: 50) considered
‘Sevres syndrome’ as one of the factors that affected the ‘collective psyche’ of the
country by causing Turkey to be resistant to change, in spite of being party to other
human rights mechanisms since its foundation.
Sevres was amended in the Lausanne Treaty of 1923, which became the founding
treaty for the Turkish Republic. Although the League of Nations system does not
exist today, Lausanne is a part of Turkey’s national law, a part of its international
political responsibility and it has at least the same force as the Constitution (Oran,
2007). It is also the principle organising text for the official definition of minorities,
and Articles 37-45 are dedicated to minority protection (Kurban, 2004).
The treaty only recognised non-Muslims as official minorities and it gave Orthodox
Greeks, Gregorian and Protestant Armenians and Jews positive measures in areas of
education, religious practices and charitable foundations. However, it left the people
in the Muslim millet, such as Kurds, Circasians, Bosnians, Roma and the Alevis (a
heterodox sect of Islam), outside minority provisions and they were totalised ‘under
an imagined unity of national category’ (Soner, 2005: 294).
The League of Nations system, of which Lausanne is a part, was deemed an early
attempt to challenge state monopoly over sovereignty within international law, a
question which is still at core of the debates around globalisation and its impact on
the nation state (Holton, 1998: 86-88). It was replaced by the UN system after the
Second World War due to its inefficiencies. However, as Preece (1997: 83-85) has
argued, the League of Nations system was not applied equally for all the defeated
powers such as Germany and remained limited to the Eastern European states.
Furthermore, although it stayed in effect until 1934, it did not prevent the minority
problems, and ensuing Second World War. The most dramatic impact of the League
system for Greece and Turkey was the implementation of an Exchange of
94
Populations 64 , designed according to the Lausanne Peace Treaty. It changed the
demographic make-up, in effect homogenising the population, in both countries.
Although today it may qualify as forced migration, at the time the population
exchange was not seen as against the basic tenets of human rights in this system.
Indeed, as long as the borders in Europe did not change, the international society did
not review the minority regime and there were no new minority rights provisions
until the 1940s (Preece, 1997). Therefore, in the European context, whatever states
did with their minorities and citizens until the end of the Second World War was
considered to be a domestic matter.
64
The exchange was provisioned by the Lausanne Treaty and, except for Greeks in Istanbul (Rum)
and Turks in Western Thrace, the almost 900,000 Greek Orthodox of Anatolia were exchanged with
about 400.000 Muslims from Greece. For a detailed political, social and cultural analysis of the
Exchange see, among others, Hirschon (2002) and Clark (2006).
65
As Preece (1997:88) has remarked, the only exception was the 1966 covenant on Civil and Political
Rights that included a specific minority clause. However this provision still granted states the
freedom to determine who would constitute a minority in their territories. Preece also maintains that
the 1950 Convention on human rights did not contain a specific mention of minority rights either.
95
The Formation of National Identity and Citizenship:
Turkey during the Early Republican Years
As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, the state-led modernisation after the
foundation of Republic was more radical compared to the efforts of the 19th century
and the Republican period was considered to be a ‘revolution of values’ (Mardin,
1971).
In the early Republican period when the new regime was trying to consolidate its
power and hegemony, one of the most difficult tasks was to create a common,
unified identity upon the diverse, albeit diminished, heritage that was inherited from
the Empire. As Baban has maintained, the old millet system was seen as the source
of the backwardness of society and the reason for the Empire’s decline, and
therefore posed an obstacle for building a modern society. The principle of universal
citizenship was seen as a panacea to overcome the ‘chaos of loyalties’ and facilitate
social integration (Baban, 2005: 54-55). Therefore, the authorities assumed a strong
relationship between national identity and citizenship (Đçduygu and Keyman, 1998)
and ignored sub-national differences, thus ‘marginalising’ traditional, Islamic, local
and cultural symbols to the realm of the private sphere (Baban 2005; Đçduygu et al,
1999).
96
References to both ethnic and civil aspects have been noted in analyses of the
evolution of the citizenship regime in Turkey (Đçduygu and Keyman, 1998; Đçduygu
et al, 2000). As Yeğen (2005) observes, in these evaluations there seems to be a
consensus on considering Turkish citizenship as ‘passive’, ‘republican’ and one that
‘colonizes the private sphere’. However, the consensus seems less consolidated on
the ethnic/political divide.
The first constitution of the Republic (1924) stipulated citizenship for the first time
and defined it thus: ‘without regard for their religious or ethnic origins, people living
in Turkey were to be considered Turks regarding citizenship.’ (Đçduygu et al., 1999:
193). However, the subsequent legislative measures indicated that non-Muslims
whose status had been assured by the heritage of the millet system were considered
to be the ‘other’ in nation building. According to Özbudun, the terms of the first
constitution implied that ‘the non- Muslim minorities were granted the equal
citizenship rights, but sociologically they were not considered as Turks’ (Özbudun,
1998: 154).
For instance, in analysing the legislations passed in Turkey in 1920s and 1930s,
Çağaptay (2003: 614) identifies the emergence of religion as a strong component in
determining who belonged to the polity. As he puts it:
Turkey granted citizenship not only to ethnic Turks, but also to Ottoman
Muslims who immigrated to the country. Ankara even naturalised converted
East-Central European Christians and Jews, Hellenic Greeks as well as
Christian and Jewish White Russians. In these cases, race and ethnicity
seemed unimportant. Nationality-through-religion emerged as the most
common way of gaining Turkish citizenship. The government processed
citizenship as a category exclusive to the former Muslim millet. This
explains why, although Ankara naturalised non-Ottoman Christians who
converted and joined this millet, it blocked off Christian ex-Ottomans, most
notably the Armenians, from citizenship. Due to the legacy of the millet
system Ankara saw these as a separate ethno-religious community outside
the body of the Turkish nation. Hence, the heritage of the Ottoman Empire,
and not race, determined whether these could acquire citizenship.
Amongst the Muslim components of the millet system, integration of the Kurdish
communities has been the most complex process. As Bora (1996) has argued, the
97
war conditions did not allow a comprehensive democratic solution to the question of
Muslim millets and the official ideology was rather nebulous in the formative years
of the Republic. Indeed, in this period, official documents such as the National Pact
(Milli Misak) refrained from using terms like ‘Turkishness’ (Türklük), ‘Turkish
nation’, and ‘Turkish’. The emphasis was rather placed on the ‘ties of brotherhood’,
‘reciprocal respect and self-sacrifice’ and ‘ the will to share the same destiny’ for all
those elements of Islam that indicated a message of ‘unity in diversity’ in terms of
cultural identities (Özbudun, 1998: 152-153). In the 1930s it was still believed that
Kurds were ‘assimilable’ due to the commonality of religion and the legacy of the
millet system. In fact, as long as Kurds conformed to the Turkish culture they were
considered as ‘Turks’ (Gülalp, 2006: 3; Çağaptay, 2006). This is a crucial point in
understanding the complexity of the Kurdish problem in Turkey.
As part of the Republican cultural revolution, the institution of the Caliphate, and its
leadership of the Islamic world, was abolished in 1924. This was a binding religious
symbol between the Muslim millet and its abolishment worsened the relationship
between Turks and Kurds, marking the beginning of a series of successive rebellions
against the state (Zürcher, 1998). Taking place between 1925-1938, these revolts
were heavily suppressed by the state, and by 1939 the Turkish government had
consolidated its power in the Kurdish populated areas. As Kirişçi and Winrow (1997)
have explained, in the decade that followed, most of the Kurdish elite were
eliminated or incorporated into the new regime. Consequently, no separate Kurdish
movement emerged until the end of the 1960s when the effects of modernisation
were felt in urban as well as rural areas.
The 1930s was the decade when ethnic terms of citizenship began to gain ground
and the regime began to consolidate its hegemony with the official ideology of
Kemalism (Özbudun, 1998)66. The consolidation of national ideology involved the
66
The word is coined by western authors, and used by various scholars to mean a collection of
fundamental principles or ideals that relate to the emergence of Turkey. It is also referred to as
Atatürkçülük in Turkish (Karal, 1981:11)
98
contradictory processes of ‘inclusion’ and ‘exclusion’ or ‘minoritisation’ of the
diverse elements of the Empire. These unfolded in a series of strategies of ‘coercion,
conversion, expulsion or elimination’ of those that did not fit in with the emerging
nationalist project, namely the Kurds and the non-Muslims in Turkey (Özkırımlı and
Sofos, 2008). Such policies were observed in other states that emerged out of the
Ottoman Empire. This symbolic and material homogenisation or ‘Turkification’67
began in the late Ottoman period (Ergil, 2000; Oran, 2005; Bali, 2003; Özkırımlı and
Sofos, 2008). Öktem (2004) labelled such administrative, cultural as well symbolic
strategies as the ‘ethno-nationalist incorporation of time and space’ of the ‘ethnic
other’. These strategies were implemented because the new ‘present’ of the nation-
state was in ‘disjunction’ with the ‘varied history of locality’ that needed to be
‘purified’68.
67
Turkification is usually used to refer to policies that involved non-Muslims, but Şahin (2005) also
used this term in relation to the Kurds.
68
Öktem in this context mainly refers to the events that had an impact on the livelihood of the
Kurdish and Armenian and other non-Muslims such as the Syriacs in the South-East of Turkey in the
19th and 20th centuries.
99
section, it also involved the introduction of campaigns advocating the use of Turkish
in public spaces. In addition to coercive measures, scientific studies and
interpretations emerged in the 1930s which claimed to prove the origins of Turkish
language and culture. The ‘Sun Language and History Theories’ were the most
significant scientific efforts in this period and attempted to imagine Kurds as
‘mountain Turks’ who had lost their culture and language (Kirişçi and Winrow,
1997: 103).
The re-location of peoples was aggravated especially in the final stages of the
Empire during and after the First World War. This was due to an influx of Muslim
but not necessarily ethnically Turkish refugees to Anatolia. The integration of these
groups with the other Muslim elements such as the Kurds was one of the central
concerns of the emerging nation state (Çağaptay, 2002, Özkırımlı and Sofos, 2008;
Öktem, 2004). These policies are significant for two interrelated measures:
‘homogenisation of the population’ and ‘dispossession’ or the ‘transfer of capital’
from one group to the other. For instance, the new settlement law of 1934 (Law no.
2510) divided the country into three areas and re-settled people according to their
acceptance of Turkish language and culture in order to facilitate their assimilation
(Kirişçi and Winrow, 1997).
The transfer of capital from one group to the other is also related to these policies of
expulsion and/or re-location. The events of 1915 marked the beginning of a series of
events that facilitated the ‘transfer of capital’ from non-Muslims to Muslims (Öktem,
2004)69. According to Oran (2005) this process was complemented by events such as
69
Öktem (2004:566-68) refers to the Armenian pogrom of 1895, the 1915 events and massacres and
the destruction of houses and churches as spatial strategies aimed at eliminating others’ ‘material and
100
the 1923 population exchange between Greece and Turkey, the re-location of Jews
as a result of the 1934 pogroms in Thrace, the Capital Levy in 1942 as a war-time
measure; the pogrom of 6-7th September 1955; and finally the deportation of Greeks
who held Greek passports in 1964 due to the tensions over the Cyprus dispute (also
see: Akar and Demir, 1999; Aktar, 2004; Bali, 2003; Çağaptay, 2003; Okutan, 2004).
In the following sections, in an attempt to highlight the dilemmas of Turkish
citizenship in the formative years of the Republic, we will focus on a number of
assimilation and integration70 policies adopted in the single-party period (1923-1950)
to integrate Kurds as well as non-Muslims into the nation state. Some of these events
still remain in the collective memory as sensitive and taboo subjects that shape
expressions of cultural difference as well as the mediation of cultural identities in
general.
historical entity’. As he further explains, the possessions that were left behind by these communities
were immediately appropriated by the state in order to distribute to the refugees coming from the
Balkans and the local Kurdish tribes. The change of names of evacuated villages was also put
immediately in practice during the 1915 events.
70
See Grillo (2005) for a discussion of integration, assimilation and multiculturalism. Grillo (2005:3-
4) put the argument in relation to immigration as follows:
[f]or much of the 19th and 20th centuries the principal, official way of dealing with ethnic
diversity was to abolish it. Nation-states sought to ‘nationalise’ their regions, and from the
late 19th century onwards, to ‘assimilate’ immigrants… By the mid-to-late 20th century,
however, programmes of assimilation of the classic kind were increasingly hard to sustain
(Grillo, 1998). Attention turned, therefore, to policies of what were called in Europe
‘integration’ (though other terms were also used), and in the USA (and later in Europe)
‘cultural pluralism’ or more usually ‘multiculturalism.
101
and cultural Turkification policies were implemented in order to integrate non-
Muslims into society.
71
In 1932 certain professions such as a pilot, chemist, veterinary, were forbidden for practice by
those who were considered as foreigners (Özkırımlı and Sofos, 2008: 166).
72
Given the lack of congruence between religion, ethnicity and language among the peoples of the
Ottoman Empire, the nation state’s emphasis on linguistic Turkification becomes more significant. As
Özkırımlı and Sofos (2008:167) maintain ‘liguistic homogeneity’ would constitute the ‘most
demonstrable aspects of national homogeneity’.
73
The campaign also targeted the Kurds and it was forbidden to speak Kurdish in public spaces.
102
heritage (Oran, 2005; Mahçupyan, 2004). The long legal dispute between the state
and minority communities was finally settled during the Eropeanisation reform
period74.
The other event in the transfer of capital through dispossession took place in the
midst of the hardening economic situation during the Second World War, and
economic Turkification policies were further extended in the form of a one-off
emergency wealth tax (Varlık Vergisi)75 on 11th November 1942. As Lewis (1961)
has explained, the levy was designed to target big farmers who were mainly Muslim
Turks, and some non-Muslim merchants who benefited from war conditions.
However, it later emerged that taxpayers were classified according to their religion
and nationality76 - non-Muslims paid up to ten times as much as the Muslims. It was
not possible to appeal against the tax and defaulters had their names listed in the
newspapers and were deported to the Aşkale work camp to break stones for road
construction. Having gathered roughly £28 million in tax at the exchange rate of the
time, the law was finally abolished in March 1944, some outstanding tax was
excused, and detainees were sent back home.
74
The first attempt at a legal solution to this problem took place in 2002 when a European
harmonisation package introduced a new regulation allowing foundations to acquire properties
(Hürriyet, 4th October 2002). According to figures provided by General Directorate of Foundations,
there are 161 community foundations in Turkey. According to these figures, the Rum community
possesses 75, the Armenian community has 58, the Jewish community has 18, and the rest belongs to
other minority groups (Yılmaz, 2004). The first decision taken by the European Court of Human
Rights in terms of the legal cases for minority foundations took place in 2007, when the Court
decided that Turkey had violated the property rights of minority foundations. The Turkish
government, in its defence, referred to recent legal improvements in this area. The court case is seen
as establishing a precedent for all the other foundations that have appealed to the Court (Hürriyet, 9th
January 2007). The new law (no. 5737) was passed by parliament on 20st February 2008, and
included new arrangements to allow assets registered under saints and other religious figures to be
transferred to minority foundations. This concession was intended to prevent subsequent cases going
to the European Court of Human Rights (Hürriyet, 21st February 2008).
75
For an eye witness account see the memoirs of Ökte (1987) who was a tax collector during this
period. This is a reprint and translation of Ökte’s book published in 1951.
76
During the single party period, a strict distinction between the possession of ‘Turkish nationality’
(milliyet) and Turkish citizenship (tabiiyet) was preserved. This dual understanding of citizenship had
been apparent especially in the status of non-Muslim minorities as citizens (Soner, 2005).
103
According to Aktar (2004), the tax had serious consequences not only in economic
life but also for the cultural and social make-up of (mainly) Istanbul, triggering a
wave of migration to other countries. It eliminated the big non-Muslim businessmen
from economic life and also acted as a catalyst to transfer wealth from non-Muslim
to Muslim taxpayers. Aktar argues that the execution of the tax heavily affected the
‘integration’ of the minorities into Turkish society and deepened feelings of despair
and distrust. It also endorsed the perceived position of minorities as being ‘half
citizens, guests and Turks only in the Civic Code’ in the eyes of the minority
population (Aktar, 2004: 206-208). The tax has remained as one of the taboos in the
recent history of Turkey77. As Chapter 5 will address, it led to the beginning of the
continuous migration of minorities that eventually had a detrimental impact on their
community institutions in general and their media in particular.
The Cold War: The transition to a Multi Party System and the
worsening relationship between the state and minorities (1950-1980s)
As previously mentioned, Turkey became a part of ‘global governance’ in the
aftermath of the Second World War by joining the United Nations in 1945 and the
Council of Europe in 1949. In 1950 the single party regime in Turkey ended after the
Democrat Party (DP) gained a landslide victory in the first democratic elections.
This period is also considered to be the beginning of the Second Turkish Republic,
which lasted from 1950 until 1980 (Zürcher, 1998).
The most significant event that strained relations between the state and non-Muslim
minorities in this period took place in 1955, and is known as the 6-7th September
events, or pogroms. Although DP’s attitude to non-Muslims was liberal, worsening
economic conditions and the heightening of the Cyprus problem in foreign policy
had a negative impact on minority living conditions and their acceptance as equal
citizens (Güven, 2005). As Güven explains, on the evening of 6-7th September,
77
My respondents without exception mentioned the tax as the main source of mistrust and a trigger
for the worsening of relations between minorities and the state. The first attempt to tackle this taboo
was a film called The Diamonds of Ms Salkım in 1999.
104
crowds coordinated by official and semi-official officers and organisations
vandalised shops, houses and churches of non-Muslims. The events were triggered
by a radio broadcast which reported that the house of Ataturk in Salonica, Greece
had been bombed. An evening newspaper, (Đstanbul Ekspres), was used to agitate
and mobilise the crowds and more than four thousand houses, one thousand shops,
offices, and seventy-three churches were attacked by the angry mobs. The total loss
was estimated to be fifty-four million American dollars and the Democrat Party, as
the government of the day, paid a quarter of the damage in compensation to the non-
Muslims78.
The attacks seemed to target the Greek (Rum) of Istanbul due to the Cyprus problem,
but they encompassed all non-Muslims and triggered another wave of mass
migration of Armenians, Jews and Greeks who saw the events as a symbol of their
discrimination as citizens in Turkey. According to Güven, the pogrom was a
continuation of economic and cultural Turkification policies of the 1930s and 1940s
(Güven, 2005).
During the 1960s, the impact of international political tensions and problems over
Rum (Greeks) and Armenians continued. The accelerating Cyprus crisis dismantled
the gentlemanly agreements between Greece and Turkey. The crisis in 1964 led to
the deportation of twelve thousand Greeks with Greek nationality. However, some
Greek nationals were married to Greeks in Istanbul, therefore the number of people
who had to leave amounted to forty thousand (Akar, 1999). According to Alexandris
the Greek community was ‘used as a national scapegoat’ for the Cyprus crisis
(Alexandris, 2003: 119). The Greek community’s victimisation due to international
78
The most detailed archive of the events was made public for the first time in 2005 in an exhibition
by the History Foundation on the 50th anniversary of the events. This was comprised of documents
and photos that were kept in the personal archives of the Admiral Fahri Çoker, the judge in the
investigation of the pogrom. An embargo against publication of the material was lifted after he passed
away. As a twist of history, the opening of the exhibition was hijacked and exhibits vandalised by a
group of people who identified themselves as members of ultra-nationalist organizations. The
researcher was present to observe the event.
105
tensions culminated in the closing down of the theological school of Halki in 197079.
Furthermore, the presence of the Armenian community in Turkey became fragile
due to attacks by the ASALA80 against Turkish diplomats and institutions (Soner,
2005).
Hence, during the Cold War, Turkey’s official minorities faced difficulties from
both domestic and international conflicts. The economic and cultural Turkification
policies were instrumental in establishing non-Muslims as ‘aliens’ and ‘foreigners’
and deepened the lack of trust between non-Muslims and Turks. Furthermore,
international political conflicts worsened the situation of minority groups and led to
their accelerating immigration. The Cold War minority policies remained a taboo in
public life until the late 1990s, but the culture of the diminishing non-Muslim
communities became a matter of special interest in the public sphere after the mid-
1980s in order to highlight the ‘multicultural’ character of Turkey. This will be dealt
with in more detail in the next chapter.
The situation for the Kurds however was different. As noted previously, no separate
Kurdish movement emerged until the 1960s, but the most significant impact of
modernisation in Turkey was observed in the growing awareness of Kurdishness
throughout this period. The re-discovery and revival of Kurdish identity was
possible as a result of rural-urban migration, especially when the students who went
to big cities for their university education became involved in student and cultural
organisations created under the liberal provisions of the 1961 constitution (Kirişçi
and Winrow, 1997; Şahin, 2005). Leftwing ideologies began to permeate and
transform political culture, making their influence felt in student organisations and
elsewhere. Indeed, as Şahin (2005: 133) has stated, the atmosphere created by the
79
The school is still closed, making it very difficult for the Patriarchate to educate the future
generations of religious personnel.
80
The Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia. See Gunter (1990) for a discussion of
the declaration of collaboration between the ASALA and PKK in the 1980s although Kurds and
Armenians historically represent groups inimical to each other because of their mutually incompatible
irredentist claims for territory.
106
new Constitution in 1961, which was prepared in a framework supported by the
European Convention of Human rights, saw the emergence of new political claims
that ‘challenged the ideological dominance of hegemonic Turkish nationalism’.
The break-up of the left movement along ethnic lines had a sobering impact amongst
Turkish leftists81 and the escalating violence between radical rightwing and leftwing
groups led to serious instability in Turkey. The clashes between groups cost 4,500
81
According to Kirisci and Winrow (1997:109), the solidarity and congruence that existed among the
Turkish and Kurdish leftist groups eventually diminished after the mid-1970s. This point was
confirmed by some of the professional journalists interviewed, such as Ridvan Akar and Emre Akoz.
107
lives and, as a result, the army gained control on 12th September 1980, staying in
power until 1983 (Kirişçi and Winrow, 1997; Jung and Piccoli, 2001).
In 1983, after the coup, Turgut Özal formed a civil government under the
Motherland Party (ANAP) that united a combination of elements from ultra-
nationalists, Islamists and liberals. This government introduced liberal economic
policies and triggered Turkey’s integration with the global economy. The changes
that began to take place after the coup are considered to represent a ‘turning point’ in
state-society relations because, as Göle (1994) has explained, they marked the end of
the dominance of the state induced modernizing movement. Although the Özal years
(1983-1989) are celebrated as the most liberalising period in Turkish history in terms
of the economy, there was no democratisation in this period and the legislative
measures implemented under the military regime remained in place (Ahmad, 2003).
In 1984, the Kurdish nationalist movement began a military struggle under the
leadership of the PKK’s Abdullah Öcalan. In terms of the Kurdish question there
was a two-fold challenge. The founding Lausanne Treaty, which defined the status
of ‘official minorities’, did not leave room for the recognition of other Muslim
ethnic groups as minorities. As mentioned previously, the official ideology denied
82
For Hale (1994), the Turkish army is a ‘modernizing’ and ‘moderating’ institution in Turkish
politics. For instance, the 1980 coup (like the previous ones) is seen as a ‘moderating coup’ in which
the return to civilian rule was swift.
108
the existence of Muslim minorities and, until the 1980s, exercised an ‘assimilationist
melting pot ideology’ (Somer, 2005: 596).
After the military coup, expressions of Kurdish identity were prohibited. The use of
Kurdish language was banned in 1983 based by Law No.2932, which also declared
Turkish as the mother-tongue of all Turkish citizens. In addition to publishing in the
Kurdish language, naming places and children in any language other than Turkish
was also banned (O’Neil, 2007). The restrictions under Article 26 and 28 of the 1982
constitution, which banned the use of certain languages, and were prepared under the
military regime, were lifted during the Europeanisation period. This will be
discussed in more detail in Chapter 6 in relation to the emergence of Kurdish
broadcasting.
The 1990s were turbulent years in which the Turkish political scene was dominated
by short-lived coalition governments, and eleven governments and nine coalitions
came into power (Nachmani, 2003). Against this background of political instability
and clashes between the army and PKK, it was human rights protection in Turkey
that suffered (Taşpınar, 2004; Sugden, 2005).
In 1991, a centre left (SHP) and centre right (DYP) coalition openly declared that
there is a need to ‘recognize the Kurdish problem’ and lifted the ban on the use of
109
Kurdish language83. However, as Taşpınar (2004: 105) has argued, the recognition
of the ‘cultural dimension of the problem did not translate into concrete action’.
During the 1990s, Kurdish problems continued to be seen as a national security
problem by the authorities. The failure of official discourse to recognise the social,
political and historical aspects of the problem was strengthened by the unwillingness
of the Kurdish parties to publicly denounce violence and distance themselves from
the impact of PKK (Ergil, 2001). However, as Ergil (2001) has expressed, the
sensitivity of the state apparatus towards different identity claims is not only limited
to the Kurds or other ethnic groups. For him this represents a general tendency to
reject pluralism in Turkish political culture:
Another issue that dominated politics during the 1990s was the rise of political Islam.
In 1995, a centre right and Islamist coalition was formed between the Welfare Party
(RP) and True Path Party (DYP), and the leader of RP, Mr Erbakan, became the first
Islamist politician to be elected prime minister. This, however, accentuated tensions
between the secular democratic establishment and the political Islamists. The short-
lived coalition ended in June 1997 after the National Security Council (NSC)
84
declared on 28th February that political Islam was more dangerous than Kurdish
83
According to Müftüler-Baç (1997), this was possible because Turkey signed the Paris Charter in
1990, along with the other members of the CSCE (now OSCE), which obliged Turkey to respect
minority cultures, languages and religion.
84
The NSC was established in 1961 and Article 118 of the 1982 constitution stipulated it as a body
comprised of the prime minister, ministers of defence, departments of the interior and foreign affairs,
the chief of general staff and four commanders of the army and gendarmeries. The NSC holds regular
meetings that are also attended by the director of national intelligence and the NSC general secretary
(Jung and Piccoli, 2001:95). As Arıkan (2003) states, although its decisions are only supposed to be
recommendations, the army’s interventions in civil politics have been a serious concern for the EU
commission. In 2004, a civilian bureaucrat was made NSC chairman for the first time and the
monthly regular meetings were re-scheduled to take place every two months (EU Commission, 2005).
110
nationalism (Ahmad, 2003). The so called 28th February process was dubbed a ‘post-
modern coup’ and was considered to be the result of secular resistance both from
military and civic circles backed by the mainstream media. Özcan (2002: 56) argues
that this was because the capitalist classes and the media developed a ‘discourse of
secularism’ which appealed fears middle and upper-middle classes had about the
Islamist threat to their lifestyles. After 28th February, the state began to crack down
on radical Islamist groups and policies, and the military began giving frequent
‘ briefings’ in which it informed society about security issues such as PKK terror,
drug trafficking and Sharia Law (Sevinç, 2000).
In the midst of combating Kurdish nationalism and political Islam - the two major
threats to the modernisation process - Turkey was also pursuing its EU membership,
a process that began in the 1960s. However, human rights violations were high on
the agenda between Europe and Turkey.
At the Luxembourg Summit (1997) of the European Union it was declared that the
accession prospects of Turkey had been put on indefinite hold due to its human
rights problems. Relations with the European Union took a different turn two years
later at the Helsinki Summit and, throughout 1999, there were a number of different
events leading to crucial changes in Turkey’s international relations and domestic
politics. First, the leader of the PKK, Abdullah Öcalan, was captured and arrested
and the PKK responded by calling a ceasefire in the long running armed struggle in
South East Turkey (Sugden, 2005). In the summer, a major earthquake transformed
relations between Turkey and Greece as both countries were hit by the disasters and
provided help to each other. Dubbed as ‘earthquake diplomacy’, this cooperation
later eased tensions between the two countries.
Finally, following the general elections, a three party coalition government between
the centre-left Democratic Left Party (DSP), centre-right Motherland Party (ANAP)
and the extreme rightwing Nationalist Action Party (MHP) was formed and it was
pushed to take more concrete steps towards European Union membership.
111
Turkey and the European Union: Post-Helsinki (1999) developments
Turkey’s relationship with the European Union can be traced back to the end of the
1950s but becoming a member has been ‘interpreted as a necessary counterpart of
the westernisation and modernisation drive, which itself has been proclaimed as
official state ideology’ since the1960s (Öniş 2003: 17)85. Having applied for full
membership in 1987 of the then European Economic Community (EEC), it was not
until the Helsinki Summit in December 1999 that Turkey’s application as a full
member was accepted. This is why the Helsinki Summit is viewed as a ‘turning
point’ in EU-Turkey relations, as it created a major arena of change in the
contemporary Turkish context, both in the economic and the political realms.
The EU has emphasised the ‘quality of democratisation’, ‘human rights’ and the
‘protection of minorities’ since the 1980s and 1990s (Öniş 2003: 9), and adopted the
famous Copenhagen political criteria for its dealings with candidate countries. As
Arıkan (2003) has remarked, the enlargement strategy which was set up at the EU’s
1993 Copenhagen Summit identified stability as its major component and
enlargement was considered as a factor that could serve as a catalyst to solve the
ethnic and nationalist conflicts in Eastern Europe. The Treaty on European Union (in
force from 1993) and the Amsterdam Treaty (in force from 1999) made explicit
references to principles of democracy and respect for human rights, which became
‘an increasing determinant feature in the EU’s external relations in general and its
enlargement policy in particular’ (Arıkan, 2003: 105). According to Smith, the
conditionality of the Copenhagen criteria in economic and political realms equipped
the EU with ‘a powerful instrument’ for shaping the transition, especially in East and
Central Europe (Smith, 2003: 3-4). The attachment of such conditionality to the
opening of membership negotiations was reinforced at the Luxembourg Summit of
1997 when Turkey’s accession was frozen due to human rights abuses.
85
Also see Erdemli (2003) for a synopsis of Turkey-EU relations.
112
When Turkey’s status as a candidate country was accepted at the 1999 Helsinki
Summit, it was considered by the EU to display ‘serious shortcomings in terms of
human rights and protection of minorities’ although it possessed the basic features of
a democratic system (EU, 2004: 165). Although various governments in Turkey
have introduced ‘democratisation packages’ since 1991 (Müftüler-Baç, 1998), the
scale of reforms that were undertaken after Helsinki summit was unprecedented.
The National Program for the Adoption of the Acquis (NPAA) was adopted on 19
March 2001, and identified the scale of reforms to be introduced. In October 2001,
34 amendments were made in the constitution in order to comply with the
Copenhagen criteria. At the beginning of January 2002 a new Civil Code was
adopted and an EU adaptation law on human rights was passed in the parliament in
August. This law also allowed the use of traditional languages in broadcasting
(namely Kurdish), the abolition of the death penalty and advanced the possibility for
the use of minority languages in education (Erdemli, 2003). These attempts were
completed before the EU’s Copenhagen summit in December 2002. This suggested
that if the EU council in December 2004 came to a decision that Turkey had met the
Copenhagen criteria, then the EU would start negotiations without further delay.
Despite the conditions attached to the 2004 date, as Aydın and Keyman (2004) have
maintained, it created a ‘sense of certainty’ in Turkey-EU relations. Following the
summit, four comprehensive sets of democratic reforms entered into force in 2003
that related to freedom of speech, freedom of expression and freedom of association.
Significant amongst the various reforms of 2003 were the changes in the Political
Parties law and the lifting of restrictions on the acquisition of property by non-
Muslim community foundations. The last package of reforms, entered into force in
July 2003, emphasised the ‘civilian control of the military’, as well as consolidating
the fight against torture and the exercise of fundamental rights. Another important
measure was taken in 2004 with a set of constitutional amendments that included
judiciary reforms, the civilianisation of armed forces and freedom of press (Aydın
and Keyman, 2004).
113
In this light, the so called ‘harmonisation’ or reform packages that were introduced
up until 2004 were considered to signify ‘a rapid evolution of mentalities’(EU, 2004:
4) in Turkey. Furthermore, it was argued that the Copenhagen political criteria
operated ‘like a leverage to make the Turkish modernisation and democratisation
more plural, multi-cultural and consolidated’ (Aydın and Keyman, 2004; Öniş,
2003). On the 17th of December 2004, the EU agreed to start negotiations with
Turkey in October 2005.
The reform period was divided between two governments, the DSP-ANAP-MHP
coalition and the Justice and Development Party (AKP) government that won the
general elections in November 2002. The conservative and Islamic-based single-
party AKP government ended the period of coalitions in Turkey, and is considered
to be a strong symbol of political stability. According to Öniş (2003) this was
because, before the Helsinki summit, none of the political parties on the left or right
had initiated the reforms needed for EU membership. Furthermore, ‘none of the
major political parties were able or willing to challenge the fundamental precepts of
state ideology on key issues of concern such as ”cultural rights” or the “Cyprus
problem”- issues which appeared to lie beyond the parameters of the normal political
debate’ (Öniş, 2003: 17).
The AKP’s ability to deliver some of the most controversial reforms is firstly due to
its powerful presence as a single party government within the parliament, and
secondly because of its fundamentally different outlook on the established
parameters of state ideology. However, it also has to be mentioned here that the
AKP, which won the general elections in 2007 and is now serving a second term in
power, has lost its enthusiasm for Europeanisation reforms. The EU Commissioner
for enlargement, Ollie Rehn, noted on the first anniversary of the start of full
membership negotiations, that there had been a slow down in the reform process
since 2006. He remarked that a 9th harmonisation package might be needed for
114
further reforms in areas such as freedom of expression86 and labour rights (Milliyet,
3rd October 2006).
According to Oran (2007: 43) the Lausanne Treaty is one of the earliest human
rights documents, as it contains some articles that extend certain rights to everyone
living in Turkey. However, as he expressed, Turkey has been implementing a
‘narrow definition of minority and using it to limit the applicability of rights in
Lausanne and the subsequent human rights treaties’. The principles of Lausanne and
86
One of the most significant problems in this realm is Article 301 of the Penal code, which
addresses the offences committed in ‘insulting Turkishness’. This article replaced the former Article
159 of the penal code in 2005, and it continues to create an impasse in Turkey-EU relations (Berkan,
2006). As Amnesty International (2006) has stated, the article has been widely used to prosecute
journalists, writers such as Nobel Prize winner Orhan Pamuk, the former editor in chief of Armenian
Agos newspaper - Hrant Dink, and other well known intellectuals such as Đsmet Berkan, Murat Belge
and Haluk Şahin. Amnesty also maintains that it ‘poses a direct threat to the fundamental rights to
freedom of expression’ which contravenes Article 10 of the ECHR and Article 19 of ICCPR, of
which Turkey is a party. The EU officers have expressed their concerns about its impact on the future
of membership negotiations and have demanded that all the Articles of the penal code in Turkey
should be brought in line with EU regulations (Hürriyet, 25th September 2006). According to the
Ministry of Justice, in 2006 there were 835 court cases under Article 301, in which 314 people have
appeared in court, and within the first three months of 2007 there was a total of 744 cases in which
189 people stood trial (Hürriyet, 31st March 2008).
115
the way Turkish national identity and citizenship is configured were re-evaluated
during the Europeanisation reform period by a subcommittee of the Human Rights
Consultation under the office of Primer Minister. The subcommittee included
Professor Baskin Oran, and published its Minority and Cultural Rights Report in
October 2004.
The report argued that the Sevres syndrome should be eliminated and the provisions
of Lausanne Treaty implemented correctly and fully. It also recommended the
replacement of a monocultural Turkish identity (Türklük, or ‘Turkishness’) with a
supracultural identity (Türkiyelilik, of/from Turkey) that could encompass all the
other sub-identities in Turkey. The report also suggested that Turkey was violating
certain articles of the Treaty and that Turkey’s restrictive attitudes to minorities did
not coincide with the contemporary international trends 87 . The most significant
aspect of this discussion about the limited implementation of the Lausanne Peace
Treaty covers the use of Kurdish language in media outlets. The use of Kurdish
language in broadcasting has been made possible by a new set of legal and
administrative measures that were introduced for broadcasters in the so-called
harmonisation packages. However, as Baskın Oran (2007) and O’Neil (2007) have
indicated, Turkey already has obligations under the Lausanne Treaty not to restrict
the use of any languages for any Turkish national, which is stated in Article 39/4
thus: ‘No restrictions shall be imposed in the free use by any Turkish national of any
languages in private intercourse, in commerce, religion, in the press, or in
publications of any kind or at public meetings’ (Oran, 2007: 43)88.
According to Oran, the interpretation of this clause highlights three important issues.
87
Professor Baskın Oran was a member and Professor Ibrahim Kaboğlu was the head of the
committee. They were charged under Articles 216 and 301 of the Penal code, which stipulates
offences ‘inciting the public to commit crimes’ and ‘denigrating Turkishness’ respectively. Both
Professors were acquitted of the charges in May 2006 (Bianet, 2005; CnnTurk, 2006). It also has to
be mentioned that the government did not give its support to the report and, although the sub-
committee functioned under the Prime Ministry, its legitimacy was questioned. The sub-committee
was closed down quietly.
88
The full text of the treaty is available at
http://untreaty.un.org/unts/60001_120000/14/30/00027480.pdf
116
Firstly, all Turkish nationals are free to use any language they choose in public and
private spaces; secondly, the expression ‘press’ can be extended to include radio and
television because neither media existed in the 1920s; and thirdly, this clause is
relevant to those nationals whose mother-tongue is not Turkish (Oran, 2007).
However, at the time of preparations for a new legislative framework that could
allow Kurdish broadcasting, these aspects of the Treaty did not appear to have been
taken into account. As Chapter 6 will demonstrate, authorities opted for other
legislative measures through which broadcasting in different languages could be
made possible. This choice can be understood in terms of a general dilemma within
the area of minority rights, and Turkey’s particular sensitivity towards recognising
national minorities other than non-Muslims.
As the previous chapter demonstrated, human rights instruments such as FCNM and
ICCPR grant states a degree of flexibility and room for manoeuvre in terms of
defining their national minorities. This is because reaching a consensus on what is
considered to be a minority group in different political contexts has not been
possible.
However, as Çavuşoğlu explains (2005) there still exists a degree of anxiety over
granting ‘collective rights’ to minorities because states fear that it may lead to
secessionist claims. This is why international human rights instruments refer to the
‘rights of persons belonging to minorities’ in specific, and it has been made clear in
these instruments that minority rights can be enjoyed by members of minority
communities but are not construed as collective rights. Furthermore, the emphasis on
the notion of ‘protection of territorial integrity’ in all the international human rights
instruments endorses the principle that ‘self determination’ is not a part of minority
rights.
117
minority rights (Kirişçi and Winrow, 1997)89. As Kirişçi and Winrow (1997: 45)
have explained, behind the resistance to recognising national minorities other than
non-Muslims lies the notion of protecting ‘the integrity and the indivisibility of the
state with its nation’. This notion, as they further explain, is also mentioned in
Article 3 of the Constitution (one of the non-changeable articles), and is of utmost
importance for the Turkish authorities. Ironically, it also adds weight to the media
focus of this thesis because, as Oran (2007: 46) has pointed out, the notion of ‘the
integrity and the indivisibility of the state with its nation’ is part of Article 5/A of the
Law on Turkish Radio and Television (No.2954); and Article 4 of the Law in the
Establishment and Broadcasting of Radio Stations and Television Channels
(No.3984)90.
Kirişçi and Winrow (1997: 45) further explain that the sensitivity of the principle of
‘the integrity and the indivisibility of the state with its nation’ might be due to the
fact that ‘granting certain rights to an acknowledged ethnic or national minority’
might lead to further demands, including ‘calls for secession in the name of self
determination’. According to them, Turkish authorities fear that granting cultural
rights to one group, such as the Kurds, could incite awareness of a distinct identity
among other groups such as the Laz and Circassians. Kirişçi and Winrow’s accounts
reflected the situation in 1990s yet, as the discussion in Chapter 6 will demonstrate,
this notion and its key position in the way cultural diversity is expressed in the
media continued to resonate during the Europeanisation period and left its mark on
the way new legislative measures were formulated.
89
However, since Kirişçi and Winrow’s book, Turkey joined several human rights systems due to its
increasing integration with the European Union. Yet, as Oran (2007) has maintained, it has been
reluctant to change.
90
It is also found in the law on associations, law on political parties and the law on the duties and
authority of the police.
118
Conclusion
This chapter has offered a historical overview of Turkish modernisation since the
early attempts in the 19th century and has focused on the place of minorities in the
formation of Turkey’s national identity and citizenship regime. This has shed light
on the factors that prompt, limit or enhance expressions of cultural identities in the
public realm and media. In doing so, the discussion has accounted for the reasons
behind current problems and difficulties in Turkey’s minority relations and the
general political and social context within which cultural diversity is experienced in
Turkey.
This chapter has also showed that Turkey’s minority undertakings were in line with
the wider practices in the European context during the Cold War, when minority
issues were still considered to be a matter of domestic politics. However, post-Cold
War developments turned this understanding upside down and, as the institutions of
‘global governance’ and human rights instruments gained more ground, minority
protection gained a privileged place in international politics and became a
transnational concern.
119
In the contemporary setting, minority rights and protection in Turkey - as stipulated
in the Lausanne Treaty - clearly belongs to an old international framework, namely
the League of Nations system. Although Turkey became a member of various
international organisations after the Second World War and was a signatory in major
international agreements, the founding Lausanne Treaty signed under the League
system still forms the basis of its citizenship and minority protection regime. It also
continues to shape Turkey’s responses to contemporary human and minority rights
instruments.
The changes after the end of the Cold War necessitated a re-evaluation of the older
approaches to minority protection in Europe. Despite the lack of consensus over its
definition and a clear hesitancy to provide a universal framework, respect for
minorities and their rights have become the norm for a democratic European country.
The growing presence of the EU and its transformation into a political and cultural
union not only strengthened this norm, but it also set it as a condition for aspiring
candidate states. The official reconfiguration of citizenship regimes to these
developments has not been so straightforward. Hence, it is against this background
that we need to understand the dilemma of modernisation and minorities in Turkey
during the Europeanisation process.
The nation building period in Turkey depended on the strict rejection of old religious
or ethnic loyalties and aimed to construct a unified, modern, secular nation under a
universal citizenship model. Also, due to the legacy of the millet system, Turkey
attempted to assimilate the non-Turkish or non-Sunni Muslim elements into the
national category. Therefore, recognition of minority rights for those groups not
covered by Lausanne has not been welcomed straightforwardly. As this chapter has
demonstrated, accommodating cultural diversity within the imagined nation proved
too costly and controversial and changes in domestic and international politics
influenced the relationship between the state and minorities. It is for these reasons
that the factors driving the transformation of national membership, especially the
significance of human rights instruments in global governance, have been met with a
certain level of resistance. Hence, official definitions of citizenship and historical
120
taboos have been seminal in shaping the limits of cultural diversity and its
expressions.
The reforms that have been introduced since 2001 have highlighted Europeanisation
as the major driving force behind the acceptance of cultural diversity, the advent of
democratisation and the betterment of human rights. This could be construed as a
global trend associated with the post-national citizenship model. However, changes
since the 1980s also indicate that these transformations have been entangled with
domestic pressures and claims emanating from ethnic or religious group loyalties.
In the previous chapter, the survey of the literature on media and cultural diversity
demonstrated that the ways in which media structures accommodate diversity
depend on the national political environment as well as global transformations and
pressures. Hence, representations of diversity within a given social formation are
inherently linked to political, economic and technological changes at a global and
national level.
121
Chapter 4
Mediation of cultural identities in the Turkish
mainstream media structure: Limitations and openings
in the ‘market for loyalties’
Introduction
The previous chapter has discussed the place of minorities in the formation and
transformation of the Turkish modernisation programme and citizenship regime. It
has highlighted the significance of historical tensions that later became embedded as
taboo and sensitive subjects in the national imagination. It has also demonstrated
that these sensitivities have limited the acknowledgment of diversity and expressions
of different cultural identities in the public realm.
In this chapter, the aim is to explore the implications of the dilemmas and taboos
within the citizenship and rights regime for the general media scene or, as explained
earlier, ‘the market for loyalties’ (Price, 2002) in Turkey. The main premise of this
chapter is that minority media does not exist in a vacuum and its emergence and
transformation cannot be isolated from the conditions that shape the national media
structure and the way these allow or limit expressions of cultural diversity. Hence, in
order to understand the subsequent case study chapters analysing minority media
practices in Turkey, we need to consider the general context within which media
operate. In order to explain changes within non-Muslim minority media, in Kurdish
language broadcasting and in the regulatory framework for local and private
channels, the researcher must first examine the historical, legislative and discursive
processes that have constructed and reconstructed the general media structure in
Turkey.
Therefore, in this chapter I address some of the key research questions of this thesis
by considering the factors that have shaped the mediation of cultural identities in the
national media, in order to explore the similarities and differences in the ways in
which mainstream and particularistic media operate.
122
As mentioned earlier, media expressions of cultural diversity are related to the
diversity of the media structure itself. Pluralistic mass media can ‘contribute to
diversity in three main ways: by reflecting difference in the society, by giving access
to different points of view and by offering a wide range of choice’91 (McQuail, 1992:
144). In addition to reflection, access and choice, ‘external’ and ‘internal’ diversity
are also significant to understand how media diversity relates to social and cultural
diversity.
In Turkey, external diversity became more visible after the 1980s due to the general
neoliberal transformation of the economy and its impact on the media structure.
Until the end of the Cold War, TRT remained as a state monopoly and family
enterprises continued to dominate newspaper ownership. The mediation of different
cultural identities was limited and stayed within the parameters of the hegemonic
ideology. For instance, the Kurdish issue was mainly represented in the context of
91
In the European context, four main dimensions of diversity were identified: a) of formats and issues
(entertainment, information and education); b) of contents (in relation to opinion and news); c) of
persons and groups (access and representation); and d) of geographical coverage and relevance
(Hoffman-Riem, 1987 cited in McQuail, 1992).
92
For McQuail, such media systems may not exist now, but some partisan usages of media, or a
system like that in the Netherlands, can be considered as the closest examples.
123
national security concerns, and non-Muslim minorities were not even on the agenda.
Even if they were mentioned, it was only in relation to the terrorist activities of
certain Kurdish or Armenian groups. Therefore, security concerns and taboo subjects
dominated the civil discourse both in print and broadcast media.
It has become a truism to regard the 1980 coup as a turning point in social and
political analysis in Turkey, and the analysis of Turkey’s media structure is no
exception (Aksoy and Robins, 1997; Tılıç, 1998; Kejanlıoğlu, 2004; Adaklı, 2006).
The neo-liberal economic policies that were introduced after the coup transformed
the political economy of the media. These changes were a part and parcel of the
changing communication policies which have begun to re-structure the global media
systems globally due to their emphasis on further liberalisation, de-regulation and
adjusting to the new rules of international trade have already been re-structuring the
media systems globally (Price, 2002; Chakravartty and Sarikakis, 2006). They had
two major consequences for internal and external diversity in Turkish media. Firstly,
the break-up of the state monopoly in broadcasting in 1990 allowed the opening of
new outlets for the expression of cultural identities and, for some commentators,
contributed to the democratisation of the public sphere. Secondly, the organisational
structure of the media changed with journalists and column writers emerging as the
‘new elite’ or ‘intellectual icons’ (Alpay, 1993; Bali, 2002). The new elite became
advocates of the liberal economic transformation, and the new lifestyle that it
promoted created a particular interest in minority cultures. Such interest was
manifest in the books, music and films that flourished in this period. These
celebrated memories of co-habitation in the multicultural past as well as the culinary
practices, music and language of minorities, and became a part of the new urban
culture in big cities. However, the mediation of cultural identities in different media
outlets was shaped by different conditions. For instance, the acknowledgment of
diversity was more acceptable for non-news or fictional products than for news
items.
124
In this chapter, three interlinked events that have taken place since the 1980s which
have shaped the visibility and expression of cultural identities and diversity in the
media are identified. These are the impact of military interventions, the emergence
of Kurdish insurgency and the eventual transition to conglomeration in media
ownership.
In accounting for these dynamics within the general media structure in Turkey, three
broad periods that have shaped the mainstream broadcast and print media are
distinguished. These are first the significance of mass media in Turkish
modernisation and the ways in which the 1960 and 1971 military interventions
shaped the ‘market for loyalties’. Secondly, the impact of the 1980s coup, and
subsequent transition to a neoliberal economy, on print and broadcast media and
lastly, the developments that have taken place after 1990 following the break-up of
the state monopoly over broadcasting.
The data that are used in this chapter come from secondary sources as well as from
interviews that were conducted with key columnists and journalists from a variety of
national newspapers. The general argument that this chapter develops is that
economic liberalisation, which transformed the domestic media structure, did not
necessarily equate to cultural liberalisation. In practice, the privileged place of statist
ideology on the ‘market for loyalties’ remained strong and influential until the end
of the 1990s, and continued to shape, limit and constrain the mediation of cultural
identities and diversity.
125
the media and media professionals ensued when the Republic was established, and
journalists were charged with the duty to defend and propagate the new regime and
the new ideology (Gürkan, 1998). Although the first constitution of 1924 included
‘freedom of expression’ in its principles, the press in the single-party period
operated almost as an organ of the government and the party (Groc, 1994). For
instance, during the abolition of the caliphate, Atatürk was reported to urge
journalists in February 1924 to ‘form a steel castle around the Republic’ (Gürkan,
1998: 38). This tight control over the press endured until the end of the 1930s, due
primarily to the impact of the first major Kurdish revolt in 1925 that took place after
the caliphate - the binding symbol between the Turks and the Kurds - was
abolished93.
A similar duty was expected of radio, which became a state monopoly in the 1930s
as part of a general trend in Western Europe during the inter-war years. Radio was
expected to be ‘the mouth of the government and ear of the nation’ (Kocabaşoğlu,
1985 cited in Kejanlıoğlu, 2004). When the single-party regime ended in 1950, a
‘seemingly democratic’ environment emerged in which free speech in the media was
promoted. The autonomy of the press was strengthened and popular journalism
began with the establishment of Hürriyet (1948) and Milliyet (1950) newspapers.
However, the DP later used radio as a propaganda tool. Furthermore, it controlled
media owners by harnessing state advertising only in certain newspapers that were
sympathetic to their government (Topuz, 2003; Adaklı, 2006).
The DP government fell after the first military intervention in 1960. Its leaders, who
were indicted for abusing radio for propaganda purposes, were later executed. The
constitution of 1961, which is viewed as the strongest on political and cultural rights,
93
The aim was to establish an independent Kurdish state and restore the caliphate. In 1925, the law of
Maintenance of Order (Takrir-i Sükun) was promulgated, which gave the government the power to
ban any organization or publication that might be considered to disturb the social order.
http://www.ata.boun.edu.tr/Faculty/Zafer%20Toprak/ATA_522_PART2_fall2007.ppt#621, 14Even
when the new press law came into force in 1931, it still contained strict rules over the press and
retained the right to ban publications that were considered to be against the national political
orthodoxy (Topuz, 2003:159).
126
included the use of communication media as part of basic rights and freedoms, and
stipulated the organisation of radio and television stations as ‘autonomous’ public
institutions (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004). For some commentators, it was the partisan use of
radio during DP governments that prompted administrators to adopt an autonomous
broadcasting model similar to the BBC (Şahin, 1981). A new law for Turkish Radio
and Television (No. 359) came into effect on 1st of May 1964 and TRT was
officially established.
TRT held the monopoly on broadcasting until 1990 and its efforts to propagate
national culture and national identity have been widely analysed and critiqued by
scholars. The so-called ‘TRT era’ has been identified with paternalistic, culturally
elitist attitudes and the imposition of top-down policies that did not connect with the
needs of audiences. According to Mutlu (1999: 26), TRT adopted the model of
‘paternalist’ public service broadcasting not only because it wanted to emulate the
BBC style, but because it fitted in well with the new ‘particularities of Turkish
politics’.
Indeed’ the second military intervention on 12th March 1971 had a particular
consequence for the media in Turkey. The autonomy of TRT was repealed and its
governing legislation was amended in order to give additional powers to the general
director, who was appointed by the government. According to Mutlu (1992: 26),
these changes replaced the notion of public service with a notion of ‘state
broadcasting’. Hence, from its inception, broadcast media was under the ‘direct
supervision of the political elite’ and was ‘shaped by the military interventions’
(Kejanlıoğlu, 2004: 187). TRT’s lack of autonomy and its dependency on the state
will emerge as a pivotal factor in our discussion of Kurdish broadcasting in Chapter
6.
The military coup of 12th September 1980 puts limits on all forms of political and
cultural expression and held print and broadcasting media under tight control. The
military government stayed in power until 1983 and designated what could be
printed and transmitted via the media, by proscribing taboo subjects (Kejanlıoğlu,
2001; Tılıç, 2001). Although the press was viewed as the only outlet for ‘public
opinion’, as Groc (1994) has argued, its outputs were framed by the military’s
general ‘de-politicisation’ policy.
Tınç’s experience is indicative of the atmosphere of this period in which all forms of
social and cultural expression were repressed. Although the transition to civilian rule
took place in 1983, when Turgut Özal’s Motherland Party (ANAP) came into power,
the restrictions on the press persisted. As some commentators have expressed,
ANAP introduced economic liberalisation policies but made no attempts at
democratisation during its administration (Ahmad, 2003; Groc, 1994)94.
94
As Topuz (2003) expressed, from 1980 until 1990 there were more than 2000 court cases against
the press, in which 3000 journalists were tried. There were 850 bans on publications.
128
In this period, financial pressures on the press also had major consequences for the
media structure in Turkey. As Groc (1994) has explained, the government used its
monopoly over paper sales as leverage to force family enterprises in print media to
accept its policies. The authorities increased the sale prices of paper as a tactic to
weaken the financial situation of traditional owners so that investors could enter the
sector by buying out failing newspapers. Indeed, business elites, with investments in
finance, tourism, construction, banking, steel, or the automotive industry, began
taking over media outlets in order to gain intellectual and political prestige and
power (Topuz, 2003; Adaklı, 2006). The entrance of business elites into the print
media sector eventually turned journalism into a ‘solely commercial venture’ (Groc,
1994: 203) 95 .Due to financial pressures and the harsh restrictions on political
expression, the press had to re-adjust itself to the emergent situation in the mid-
1980s. As a result, it shifted its focus and style of reporting from politics towards
entertainment, culture and lifestyle (Groc, 1994; Uğur, 2002). New layout styles and
printing technology were introduced in the newspapers. Weekly magazines
broadened their thematic output, covering issues that related to women, youth, and
environment. And the external diversification of the press increased with the
emergence of particularistic Islamist newspapers such as Zaman and Türkiye as well
as weekly current affairs magazines such as Nokta and Aktüel (Uğur, 1996; 2002)96.
The second factor that shaped media performance in the 1980s was the start of the
PKK’s armed struggle against the military in 1984. The coverage of military
operations was supervised by the armed forces. The declaration of a ‘state of
emergency’ in 1987 in the south eastern cities also provided the pretext for further
legal restrictions on the press97. As veteran journalist Hasan Cemal (2003, in Somer
95
See the table in the appendix for the cross-media ownership and major players in the media in
Turkey.
96
See the table in the appendix for the ideological affiliation of major newspapers in Turkey.
97
After 1984, publications that were considered a threat to the security of the state were to be seen in
a special court, known as Devlet Guvenlik Mahkemesi (DGM, State Security Courts). DGM used its
power particularly for political journals (Topuz, 2003, pp273-274). DGM courts were abolished in
2004 as part of the 8th harmonisation package in the Europeanisation reforms (Müftüler- Baç, 2006).
129
2005) reported, the military held official and semi-official meetings with media
professionals where the ‘proper’ form of coverage and use of terminology was
determined.
One of the very few content analyses on the way the Kurdish issue is represented in
the press employs a longitudinal analysis of Hürriyet newspaper in which Somer
(2005: 591), who sampled all the news items and commentaries from the beginning
of the PKK insurgency in 1984 until 1998, makes the following observations:
In 1984 and 1985 the mainstream daily Hürriyet published only 35 articles
that were fully or particularly related to country’s ethnic Kurds. Only 3 of
these articles used the word Kurd in reference to a person, group, concept or
place. In those days media rarely covered issues related to Kurds, and when
they did, they did not use the word Kurd.
These findings endorse the comments made above by Ferai Tınç who explained the
reasons behind the use of such terminology in the so-called ‘terror’ years. However,
Somer (2005) identifies a fourfold rise in the number of articles about Kurds in the
post-1990 period and relates this change to the efforts made by the political elite for
the recognition of Kurdish cultural identity98.
However, at the beginning of the 1990s an ‘open’ discussion of the problem and the
use of the word Kurd were still problematic because journalists and politicians faced
the possible threat of being ‘stigmatised’ as separatists (Somer, 2005). One of my
respondents, Şahin Alpay, who is an academic at Bahçeşehir University and a
columnist at the Islamist daily Zaman, conducted a study with established journalists
in the early 1990s. This study confirmed that ‘many aspects of religion and sexuality,
the cult of Atatürk, the Kurdish and Armenian questions, and questions pertaining to
98
As Somer observes (2005:599 and 613), in 1987 former PM Bulent Ecevit stated ‘let us not fear the
word Kurd’ and in another occasion referred to ‘Turks who do not speak Turkish’. In 1988, Erdal
Inonu, who became deputy prime minister in the SHP-DYP coalition, referred to the need to
recognise ‘people’s mother tongue’. In 1989, President Özal declared that he was partly Kurdish. In
1991, in a visit to the major Kurdish town of Diyarbakir, leaders of SHP-DYP argued for the first
time that the ‘Kurdish reality’ should be acknowledged.
130
the military’ constituted sensitive or taboo subjects that journalists treated with
caution or, if possible, avoided altogether (Alpay, 1993: 83).
In addition to self-imposed restrictions, the freedom of the press in this decade was
also severely curbed by legislative measures (Topuz, 2005; Tılıç, 1998). For instance,
certain articles of the 1991 penal code and the 1990 anti-terror law gave the Ministry
of Interior powers ‘to ban publications and close down printing houses indefinitely’
if these publications were considered to be harmful to ‘public order’ in the south
eastern region. These restrictions were included as part of the programme to combat
the separatist Kurdish movement (Alpay, 1993: 83).
For instance, Rıdvan Akar, a journalist and TV producer who has written extensively
about non-Muslim minorities, identified a shift from ‘universalistic’ claims to more
‘particularistic identity claims’ within Leftist movements. Akar argues that this shift
became visible with the emergence of the PKK and, for these movements, the
process ‘messed up what they memorised’ (Interview, 8th June 2004). Emre Aköz,
who is a columnist from the Sabah newspaper, similarly argued that ‘Despite being
such a grave situation [the PKK phenomenon] placed the idea of difference into the
minds of the Turks’ (Interview, 6th April 2005).
As Umur Talu, a veteran journalist also from Sabah newspaper, has expressed,
during the interim periods between military interventions in the 1960s and 1970s
99
Somer (2005:602-604) has argued that the social political and military elite in Turkey is not
monolithic, and it is comprised of ‘moderate’ and ‘hardliner’ approaches that can be observed both in
centre-right and centre-left politics. In his view, hardliner views associate identity based claims with
claims for a separate territory, and highlight security concerns over the assertion of ethnic identities.
Moderate views on the other hand argue to ‘de-link’ identity and security issues and ask for the
acknowledgment of Kurdish identity and linguistic rights.
131
there existed many publications and debates about social issues, but this suddenly
stopped after the 1980 coup. In this context Talu has referred to the impact of the
‘Kurdish terror’ as follows:
Since 1984 during the terror and intense combat with terror it was not
possible to debate [these issues], meaning that it [has become] possible in the
last 3-5 years. In a rather strange way, and I really do not want this to be
misinterpreted, I am not saying that terror is a good thing, but a problem that
resulted from terror activities also brought debate and discussion. This
should be considered natural. Now if we want to roughly make an estimation,
this incident left behind thirty-thousand dead people, about ten-thousand civil
population and twenty-thousand terrorists. If a country produced twenty-
thousand dead terrorists this is a serious problem. Therefore, it was
understood that these problems should be debated in different ways
(Interview, 1st March 2005).
At the beginning those who advocated the cultural and religious differences
were in the minority. And they would get themselves into trouble. I was in
prison for many years because I used the word ‘Kurd’. Because I interviewed
Öcalan, I was under constant threat of imprisonment for a very long time.
My case continued for 8 years until there was a special law that prevented me
from imprisonment (Interview, 23rd February 2005).
As Ferai Tınç of Hürriyet commented, the difficulties in the ‘terror era’ were slowly
overcome when more journalists began to voice the democratic demands of the
Kurds:
Among the journalists in the press there were those who believed that
combating terrorism should be distinguished from democratic demands.
Meaning, one way of combating terrorism was also seen as listening to these
demands and bringing them into the realm of politics, finding ways of
compromise. Therefore, it was then possible to openly utter the word Kurd.
However, in the terror years Jews, Rum and Armenians were not on the
agenda yet (Interview, 22nd March 2005).
Turkey noticed her East for the first time after the cold war had ended. It
noticed the Turkic republics, Caucuses and the existence of the Turkish
element in the Balkans. After this period Turkish minorities in neighbouring
countries became influential in determining Turkish foreign policy.
Previously Turkey did not have an interest in the Turkish minorities in its
neighbouring countries. This was due to the understanding of the National
pact [the irredentist foreign policy of Turkey] and only the extreme
nationalist party [MHP] was interested in them. Following the changes in
Northern Iraq and Kurdish demands for independence accelerated, Turkey
had a tendency to be involved in the politics of the region in order to protect
the Turkmen [in Northern Iraq) …As for the [non-Muslim] minorities in
Turkey, Turkey did not discover them by herself. These minorities have
made their voices heard in the new democratization environment that
emerged as a result of Turkey’s EU process (Interview, 22nd March 2005).
In fact, Nadire Mater, an editor in the independent online news provider Bianet,
recalled in the first Gulf War in 1990 that journalists were faced with a dilemma
over how to address the situation in Northern Iraq where Kurdish tribal leaders had
gained relative autonomy. As shown above, the use of the word Kurd in relation to a
group of people in Turkey had long been a sensitive issue, and negative words such
as ‘segregators’ were often used in civil discourse. However, Mater argued that
addressing Kurdish leaders and political parties in Northern Iraq in this way would
be impossible (Interview, 17th March 2005). Inevitably, this international
development led media professionals to eventually utter the word Kurd. Furthermore,
the ban on the use of Kurdish in daily life was lifted in April 1991, which also
facilitated ‘a broader discussion of Turkey’s own Kurdish problem’ (Alpay, 1993:
83).
133
In the 1980s, the influence of taboo and sensitive issues placed similar constraints on
broadcasting as those experienced by the print media. For instance, as Kejanlıoğlu
(2004: 249) has reported, TRT was still under government control, there were no
positive developments in terms of freedom of expression during ANAP
governments 100 in this period, and military officials were reported to directly
intervene in broadcasts related to ‘Armenian terror’ or the ‘Cyprus problem’.
Despite its centrality in the production of national culture and identity, TRT was able
to deliver global as well as ‘foreign’ media products such as Dallas to its audiences
(Öncü, 2000). This contradiction, as Öncü (2000: 301) maintains, stemmed from the
‘political sensitivity’ of ‘national news, domestic educational programs and local
current affairs’.
It is possible to identify a set of internal and external factors that changed the way
media represented cultural diversity in Turkey during the 1980s and 1990s. The
internal factors include the impact of military interventions, and the rise of the
Kurdish nationalist movement. The external factors in this period include the end of
the Cold War, international conflicts such as the Gulf War and, as Alpay (1993) has
noted, the importance of a democracy and human rights discourse, which created an
awareness of these issues among media professionals. The other significant external
factor on a more general level has been the influence of globalisation of mass media
and communication policies on the Turkish media landscape.
100
In this period there were three ANAP governments were formed with three different prime
ministers. Özal became the President in 1989.
134
standards for the communications realm101. However, under the UN system other
issues have also acquired importance. For instance, since the 1960s specialised UN
bodies such as UNESCO have addressed the implications of mass media for
development and modernisation102.
In Turkey, UNESCO’s influence was most visible in the initiatives in the 1960s that
led to the foundation of the first schools of media and communications in higher
education (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004). Furthermore, the foundation of the TRT at the end of
1960s not only involved a ‘transfer of ideology’ but also a ‘transfer of technology’
(Şahin, 1979). The TRT was established with financial and technical support from
the West and adopted Western notions of public service broadcasting (Kejanlıoğlu,
2004: 188).
These liberalising pressures created a global media environment within which nation
states’ relative autonomy in regulating the media declined and came under
increasing pressure from ‘public international agencies’, ‘multinational corporations’,
‘human rights organisations’ as well as ‘supranational’ or ‘regional governance’
101
ITU’s activities involve the standardisation of world wide telecommunications and frequency
allocations. It was established in 1865 by 20 European countries, one of which was the Ottoman
Empire. It continues to operate under UN provisions. The ITU has an emphasis on the global
information society and economy which can be maintained through free trade in telecommunications
and information services (Wang, 2002).
102
The most significant debate on media, modernisation and cultural sovereignity revolved around
UNESCO’s call for a NWICO (New World Information and Communications Order). For details see
Chakravartty and Sarikakis (2006) and Reeves (1993).
135
bodies such as the IMF, World Bank and World Trade Organisation (WTO) and the
EU (Price, 2002: 4; Chakravartty and Sarikakis, 2006).
The Turkish economy opened up to the outside world with the implementation of the
24th January 1980 economic decisions, an economic plan of liberalisation, which
was formed according to the demands of the IMF, World Bank, and foreign (as well
as domestic) capital holders (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004: 192).
From 1980 until the stipulation of the new Broadcast Act in 1994, a number of
external and internal actors have influenced broadcast media policy and practices in
Turkey. Turkey signed the European Convention on Transfrontier Television 104
(1989) in 1992, which was ratified by parliament in 1993. This convention had
significance for the new broadcast regulation. As Kejanlıoğlu explains, in this period
the EU had an emphasis on economic growth, cooperation, and integration with
European culture. The ITU expected Turkey to achieve and comply with technical
standards 105 . The expectations of the IMF and the World Bank involved the
sustainability of international economic stability. Finally, international commercial
103
Since 1961 Turkey has signed 19 stand-by agreements with the IMF for the re-structuring of the
economy.
104
Along with the Television Without Frontiers Directive, this document make up the two legal
documents that make up the basis of communication policy in the European Union. It aims to set
standards for the transfrontier transmission and re-transmission of the television programmes
(Available at http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/EN/Treaties/Html/132.htm).
105
Turkey’s relationship with ITU is governed by Telecommunications Authority
(Telekomünikasyon Kurumu) in Turkey. (http://www.tk.gov.tr/Uluslararasi_iliskiler/uki/itu.htm). It
was established in 2000 in order to regulate and supervise the telecommunications sector. (Çaplı and
Tuncel, 2005).
136
media actors such as Time Warner and Canal Plus expected to enter the broadcast
sector, but were unsuccessful (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004: 198-199).
The changes that are currently expected to take place in the media sector in Turkey
continue to involve issues of trade, ownership and competition, which are general
issues pertaining to global media policies that now mainly come as part of Turkey’s
negotiations with the European Union.
Since 1998, the EU has been monitoring the compatibility of Turkish audio-visual
policies with those of the Union and found Turkey’s alignment with the EU
legislation ‘limited’ (EU Commission, 2002: 107), especially in terms of the
‘Television Without Frontiers Directive’ that defines the EU’s framework for media
liberalisation. The EU has not been able to set up a general framework for media
regulation and media ownership issues are regulated under general competition rules
(Pekman, 2005). The last bilateral meeting between Turkey and the European
Commission on information society and media policies took place in 2006106. This
meeting focussed on issues, among others, of Turkey’s alignment with the
Television Without Frontiers Directive, limitations on the ownership of television
and radio stations, and Turkey’s international commitments like those to the WTO107
that might influence audio-visual policies.
106
Available at:
www.abgs.gov.tr/files/tarama/tarama_files/10/sorular%20ve%20cevaplar_files/SC10_Cevaplar.pdf
107
As a response to a question in the meeting with regards to Turkey’s commitments such as to the
WTO, it is stated that ‘there is no Most Favoured Nation clause for any foreign audiovisual products’
and therefore Turkey has no commitments in this area.
108
The sanctions can be summarised as follows: an organisation can own only one radio or television
station. Newspaper owners are not allowed to hold more than 20 percent of the shares in a given radio
or television outlet. ‘The total share of share holders in radio or television organisations cannot
137
commentators explain, its implementation since its adoption has not been successful
due to complex relationships between the media, state and finance sector109.
The article was amended in May 2002 and no constraints were set on the number
and variety of media holdings, but the market domination is limited by 20 percent in
each sector110. The upper limit of foreign capital in domestic media enterprises was
raised from 20 percent to 25 percent (Pekman, 2005: 281)111. In the eyes of the EU
the Broadcast Law is still considered to contain problems that await solution (EU
Commission, 2008) but, as we discuss in the next section, what makes the
emergence of commercial broadcasting so significant in social and political life in
Turkey is its relation to cultural liberalisation.
The Situation of the Broadcast Media in the 1980s and Early 1990s
The first attempts to integrate with the emerging global media structure began during
the first ANAP government (1983-1987) when steps were taken to gain access to
emerging satellite technologies. Such steps became necessary because the new
communications technologies were a significant aspect of the global neo-liberal
economic transformation. They also helped to strengthen ties with Europe’s
exceed 20 percent; the share of foreign capital is restricted to 20 percent, and it is possible to be a
share holder in only one radio and television organisation (Pekman, 2005:266).
109
Media holdings participated in public tenders in the 1990s despite the rule that persons who have
more than 10 percent of the shares in a private radio or television were prevented from doing so.
Some media companies bought banks and used them to access unlimited credits and eventually these
banks were transferred to the Savings Deposit Bank (Tasarruf Mevduatı Sigorta Fonu) as part of a
banking reform along with their media companies. The Deposit Bank took over Media Group in 2000,
Aksoy Group in 2001 and the Uzan Group in 2003 (Pekman, 2005; Çaplı and Tuncel, 2005:1575).
110
See Çaplı and Tuncel (2005) for details.
111
Global media players have begun to enter the Turkish media sector since 2005 after the Savings
Deposit Bank allowed the sales of shares of media outlets under its acquisition. Canwest acquired
four radio stations that previously belonged to Uzan media group. News Corporation acquired shares
in the former TGRT channel of Đhlas Holding in 2006 (Sümer, 2007).
138
communications infrastructure, which became imperative after 1987 when Turkey
applied to the then European Community (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004)112.
During the second ANAP administration (1987-1991), TRT began to expand its
reach to the rural inhabitants of the underprivileged, and densely populated, Kurdish
regions of southeast Turkey, by opening the TRT-GAP (South-eastern Anatolian
Project)113 channel. As Kejanlıoğlu (2004) further explains, TRT also began to adapt
a transnational outlook after the end of the Cold War with the inauguration of TRT
INT and TRT Avrasya channels, targeting the Turkish diaspora in Europe and
Turkic peoples in the nascent post-Soviet states.
The most significant external factor that changed the mediation of cultural identities
in Turkey resulted from the introduction of satellite technology, which, as previously
mentioned, inevitably de-coupled the relationship between communication and
territorial boundaries. On 1st March 1990, the so called Magic Box company, which
belonged to Rumeli Holding (Uzan Group), began its transmissions from Germany
to Turkey on the Star 1 satellite channel and, de facto, broke TRT’s monopoly over
broadcasting (Kejanlıoğlu, 2001; Mutlu, 1999). This created an illegal and chaotic
112
The effects of neo-lineral transformation of the global economy were evident in the liberalisation
and de-regulation of the European media systems since early 1980s. Europeanization of national
media policies began to take place as the EU member states implemented the Television Without
Frontiers Directive (Harcourt, 2002).
113
GAP is the acronym for the Güneydoğu Anadolu Projesi –(South-eastern Anatolian Project),
which was established in 1989 in order to maintain the development of the region by providing new
energy and irrigation projects for farming, as well as industrial, economic, social and medical
development. http://www.dpt.gov.tr/bgyu/bkp/GAP2003.pdf TRT GAP television was established in
1989 and it transmits on TRT-3 channel. http://www.trt.net.tr/wwwtrt/tarihce.aspx?Yil=1989.
The TRT General Broadcasting Plan of 2005 identified the role and function of TRT-GAP as
‘maintaining the social, cultural and psychological environment in order to establish a rational basis
for the GAP project, raising the economic and educational level of the region, to respond to the needs
to those who live in the East and South-East Anatolian region, to show the achievement of GAP and
its contribution to the region as well as the country to the general audience, and to help sustain
national unity and integrity.’ (TRT, 2005:13).
139
situation that persisted for three years, during which time there existed 250 local and
national TV channels and 1250 radio stations (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004)114.
In order to end the chaotic situation, Article 133 of the constitution was amended on
8th July 1993 and Law No. 3984 Broadcasting Act was enacted in April 1994 (Mutlu,
1999). The law lifted TRT’s monopoly over broadcasting, allowed the foundation of
commercial radio and television and established the Radio and Television Supreme
Council, (RTÜK), as the regulator for commercial TV and radio outlets. RTÜK is
charged with the duty of allocating frequencies 115 , monitoring transmissions,
maintaining compliance with broadcasting standards and regulations and also
issuing licences for broadcasters (Çaplı and Tuncel, 2005).
This dramatic change in broadcasting became possible under the Social Democratic
People’s Party (SHP) and centre-right True Path Party (DYP) coalition, which was
formed after the general elections in 1991. It promoted a more politically liberal
stance on human rights issues, relations with Europe, and a national identity that
would accommodate differences (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004). While the new broadcasting
law being debated, one of the most pressing issues on the agenda was the debate
over Kurdish broadcasting. President Turgut Özal and ANAP, which was then in
opposition, supported the start of Kurdish broadcasts and the use of TRT’s GAP
channels for this purpose, but these measures were never adopted (Kejanlıoğlu,
2004).
In 1993, before the new law came into effect, there was a period in which all
television and radio broadcasts except for those that were transmitted on satellite
114
These numbers fell to 16 national, 15 regional and 230 local television stations at the end of the
decade (Mutlu, 1999). According to the figures supplied by Çaplı and Tuncel (2005), in Turkey there
are 14 national, 13 regional and 203 local TV stations; as well as 33 national, 89 regional and 873
local radio stations. In addition, TRT has 4 national, 1 regional and 2 international TV channels; as
well as 4 national, 9 regional radio stations.
115
Currently, all TV and radio channels broadcast without licenses. The allocation of frequencies has
not yet been completed due to a deadlock involving institutions such as the NSC, the regulator for the
telecommunication sector (Telecommunications Authority, TK) and RTÜK. In order to settle the
dispute, in 2005 HKY (Haberlesme Yüksek Kurulu, the Communications High Council) a digital
switchover was agreed that replaced the frequency allocation plans (Çaplı and Tuncel, 2005)
140
were suspended by a decree from the Ministry of Interior and Transportation
(Çatalbaş, 2000; Kejanlıoğlu, 2001). Kejanlıoğlu (2001: 99) has reported that there
were a number of ‘official’ reasons’ to suspend broadcasts, such as technical
problems resulting from an overload of the electromagnetic spectrum and
intellectual copyright problems to be resolved with the music industry.
However, the most convincing reason behind the suspension of broadcasts seems to
be the concern voiced by the National Security Council with regards to new ethnic
and religious radio stations, which could threaten the ‘unity and integrity of Turkey’.
Indeed, as mentioned previously, this concern was addressed in Article 4 of the new
Broadcast Law (Oran 2007: 46). This, as Kejanlıoğlu (2004) has succinctly argued,
indicates that problems in domestic politics - namely the rise of Islam, the Kurdish
conflict and their expression within the media system - posed a bigger concern for
the authorities than the rapid deregulation and commercialisation of the broadcast
media system.
Nevertheless, the new media environment that emerged with the foundation of
commercial television ushered in a new era in Turkey. In fact, as we discuss in the
next section, what makes the de facto deregulation and the emergence of commercial
broadcasting so significant in social and political life in Turkey is their relation to
cultural liberalisation.
Indeed, these developments relate to the rise of identity politics in Turkey. We have
already discussed the diversification of print media in the 1980s that enabled the
broadening of newspaper content, and the emergence of identity based media outlets,
141
such Islamist leaning newspapers. The launch of commercial television channels in
Turkey is seen as the second factor that helped those who were excluded from the
symbolic space to gain access and visibility in the public realm. Hence, many studies
in the early 1990s celebrated the mushrooming commercial TV and radio channels
as venues of ‘popular’ expression that contrasted with the paternalistic, top-down,
official ideology/culture imposing practices of state television. The media was
considered to be a venue for Turkey’s ‘others’, who were banned from the screens of
official television stations. The emergent media outlets were deemed to fulfil their
chief function, which is maintaining a ‘democratic public sphere’. The consensus in
these works was that media had a growing impact on the manifestation of cultural
diversity in Turkey (Aksoy and Robins, 1997; Aksoy and Şahin, 1993; Uğur, 1996).
The new commercial television stations were iconoclasts. They introduced new
types of programs that were absent from TRT screens, such as discussion programs,
erotica, and morning shows. They promoted themselves as young and dynamic.
Their news and current affairs programs and live studio debates created a media
environment that transcended the limits of official discourse that had constrained
TRT and, as Aksoy and Şahin (1993: 5) have maintained, led to ‘taboo bashing’ of
official dogmas regarding national and cultural identity. They described the
emergent situation as follows:
The new global media were effective in bringing the other into Turkey much
more convincingly that the ever-official, ideology laden programming of the
TRT, or the print media, whose reach always remained limited due to
sociological and economic constraints. The new media were instrumental in
bringing to the fore the defining tensions of the Turkish identity, such as
ethnic origin, religion, language and group admirations. The global stations
operating outside the constraints of the official ideology helped to turn
Turkey into a shooting gallery of taboos by bringing the Kurdish problem,
Kemalism, secularism, religious sects, gender roles, sex etc. into the realm of
public discussion. Official “untouchables”, like the leaders of the pro-Soviet
Communist party, leaders of the Kurdish rebellion, fundamentalist preachers,
transvestites, homosexuals, radical feminists, and former secret service
agents paraded through news magazines and talk shows.
142
In this context, Uğur (1996: 58) has argued that media ‘played a leading role in the
emergent self-awareness of Turkish society’, and contributed to its ‘search for self-
definition’. In fact, in order to highlight the influence of talk shows and discussion
programs in publicizing formerly taboo subjects, the term ‘speaking Turkey’ was
coined as a popular expression to symbolise this period (Çatalbaş, 2000). Morning
shows used phone-ins that interacted with the audience, addressing them by their
first name or with colloquial words that reflected familiarity like teyze (auntie),
making television seem like your friend, rather that your teacher116.
As Öncü (2003: 303) has expressed, the channels also contributed to the visibility of
the ‘repressed’ in mainstream culture, which was missing on the TRT screens:
National television spoke for the nation, and to the nation, in “proper”
Turkish simultaneously dominant and privileged.…conspicuously absent
were emergent “hybrid” speech forms, cinematic and musical genres which
proliferated at the urban fringes of larger cities, grounded in the experience
of migration and daily life on the margins of increasingly globalized
metropolitan cities.
The lack of representation of the ‘margins’ on state television was a major criticism
directed at TRT, especially in the second half of the 1980s, when certain types of
music, words or performers were banned from TRT screens117. Kevin Robins has
argued that the denial of ‘the actuality of popular culture and popular expressions’
was due to their putative misfit with the ‘modernizing rationalisation’ in Turkey
(Robins, 1996: 70). The central concern addressed by Robins here can be
summarised as the tension between centre and periphery118.
116
Aydın Uğur (1996) has referred to TRT’s style of interaction with its audience as a ‘teacher-pupil’
relationship.
117
See Stokes (1992) for the debate on so-called ‘arabesque’ music.
118
This dichotomy is traditionally used in order to refer to tensions and struggles between the
Republican secular, urban elite - the centre - that aimed to create a Western, modern and secular
nation state, and the groups and communities which had to be transformed according to the
modernisation process - the periphery. For a centre-periphery debate see Mardin (1973).
143
For Aksoy and Robins (1997), the centre-periphery problem reflects the tension
between the official culture and the real culture of Turkey. But this understanding is
problematic because it envisages one, complete ‘real culture’ of the people on the
one hand, and a totally dominant, official culture on the other. It reifies and totalises
both cultures and neglects the overlaps of these two with each other. Furthermore, it
neglects the growing influence of the logic of commercialisation and its implications.
Moreover, if official culture is to be understood as ideology and nationalism
propagated by the Kemalist elite, it is imperative to remember, as mentioned above,
that Turkey’s ‘state/bureaucratic elite is not a monolithic bloc’ (Somer, 2005)
imposing one kind of Turkishness, as there are different competing ‘nationalisms’
(Bora, 1994)119.
This is not to underestimate the fact that the emergence of commercial television
facilitated ‘external diversity’ in terms of the channels that were available, and
perhaps an ‘internal diversity’ in terms of the issues debated within the mainstream
120
national media culture. However, the analyses that have focused on the early
years of commercial broadcasting and the diversification of newspapers are
somewhat optimistic observations that neglected certain significant factors.
119
As Appadurai (1990) has expressed, the dilemmas that emerge in the cultural domain through
globalisation can no longer be captured in terms of centre-periphery models. Hence, grounding the
local/global nexus within global complexity (Robertson, 1992) might offer a more fruitful approach
than traditional centre-periphery models.
120
The mid-1990s is also a period in which particularistic media that reflected ethnic and religious
identity issues proliferated in Turkey. For instance, the pro-Kurdish daily newspaper Özgür Gündem
(Free Agenda) began in 1993. ‘Kurdish broadcasting’ began in 1995 with the satellite TV channel
MED-TV (Tan, 2007). For Med TV also see Hassanpour (1995). In terms of the ‘revitalisation of
identity’ for the Alevi community and the role of media networks, see Çaha (2004).
144
of expression 121 . Thirdly, these analyses have fallen short of explaining the
contradictory representation of diversity in Turkey. Although the new commercial
channels opened up new venues for ‘oppressed voices’ and contributed to an
expansion of the public sphere, especially in terms of the ways in which the Kurdish
problem was debated, the flexibility of discussion programs did not translate into
similar practices in newscasts. For instance, Çatalbaş (2000: 137-140), analysed
news bulletins on seven national TV channels including TRT, and found that ‘as far
as the reporting of controversial political issues were concerned, the news
programmes of private broadcasters did not always challenge official definitions…in
relation to the Kurdish problem newscasts on private television were not very
different from those on TRT’. As she has maintained, this was due to the influence
of ‘corporate attitudes and political dispositions’.
121
As Tılıç (2001) has expressed, Turkey was on the black list of international professional
organisations in the 1990s due to the assassination and imprisonment of journalists not only from
marginal leftwing or oppositional Kurdish press, but also mainstream leftwing, social democrat and
Kemalist journalists. Unfortunately, most of the killings were recorded as ‘murders by unknown
perpetrator’ (faili meçhul cinayet), although claims were made by radical leftwing and radical
Islamist groups. The Pro-Kurdish daily Özgür Gündem was bombed in 1994 and, in 1996, Turkey
ranked first in the world with the highest number of journalists in jail. International bodies, such as
the Committee to Protect Journalists, repeatedly mentioned Turkey as having one of the worst records
in the world in terms of freedom of expression.
145
sphere, professionals and freedom of expression. (Tılıç, 2001; Bek-Gencel, 2004;
Christensen, 2007).
The growing impact of neoliberal policies on the media structure also influenced the
way media outlets were organised. Firstly, journalists were forcefully stripped of
their unions and collective bargaining rights, which made them vulnerable against
the new owners and dismantled professional solidarity (Tılıç, 1998). Secondly, some
journalists, especially chief editors, emerged as the new elite (Alpay, 1993) and
column writers became the ‘new aristocracy’ (Bali, 2002).
According to Tunç (2004: 310-312), chief editors became the ‘chosen’ ones of the
new media system and began to serve the conglomerate media bosses - ‘losing their
independent journalistic judgement, enjoying their upper middle class lifestyles with
astronomical salaries and concurrently guarding the financial interests of their bosses
and acting as spokespersons on their behalf.’ Tunç has described columns as a
122
Hallin and Papathanassopoulous (2002:184-185) use this concept in their analysis of media
systems in Southern Europe and Latin America. The concept, as they put it, refers to ‘a social
organization within which access to social resources is controlled by patrons and delivered to clients
in exchange for deference and various kind of support.’ In their view, this phenomenon is prevalent in
Southern Europe due to the late development of democracy.
146
‘unique format’ in the Turkish press and estimated that, in the 17 dailies that have a
circulation of more than 40 thousand, there are about 408 columnists.
Adaklı (2006: 295), on the other hand, argues that column writers were needed in the
newspapers because they could provide the intellectual justification for realising the
neoliberal ‘vision’ that was emerging after the 1980s. The employment of a variety
of column writers, senior editors, analysts, experts, academics and minority
intellectuals was used as a tactic for maintaining internal diversity, a ‘plurality of
voices’ within the seemingly externally diverse media structure (Can, 2001: 33) 123.
The most significant example of such attempts occurred in the mid-1990s, when two
rival media groups founded newspapers targeting young, urban, educated middle-
classes124. Two factors emerge as the pretext behind such changes. Firstly, the media
groups’ adherence to market economy dogma led them to consciously construct the
readers, especially the emergent urban middle class, as ‘clients’ or ‘consumers’
(Ferai Tınç, Interview, 23rd March 2005). Secondly, topics such as the ‘1915
Armenian incidents’ and the ‘Kurdish issue’ were of growing interest within public
culture in the 1990s, and it was in this context that urban intellectuals ‘discovered’
non-Muslim minorities as a part of Turkey’s multicultural heritage (Rıfat Bali,
Interview, 6th September 2005).
This change in the organisational structure of the media has a particular importance
because, as discussed in the next chapter, it pertains to the changing representations
123
Can (2001) categorises the opinion leader columnists under six sub-categories according to the
different functions that they serve. The first are the ‘barons’ who are the top editors or directors of the
media institutions they work in, and they are the ‘mentors’ of their bosses, the political power as well
as the society . The second group are the ‘spokespersons.’ This group is known to have connections
with political actors or pressure groups and is able to get direct interviews with certain groups so as to
reflect their opinions in his/her column. The third and fourth are analysts and experts who come from
specific areas such as diplomacy, economics and education. The fifth category is the most traditional
of all, the anecdotal columnists. The sixth and the final category refers to ‘variety’. This maintains the
‘plurality of voices’, but this plurality is in some cases ‘engineered’ and is exempt from the overall
‘opinion orbit ’ of the newspaper.
124
Yeni Yüzyıl (New Century) founded by the Dinç Bilgin Group in 1994, and Radikal (Radical) by
Dogan Group in 1996. Hrant Dink, the late general director of the Armenian newspaper Agos, had a
column in Yeni Yüzyıl, and the current director, Etyen Mahçupyan, used to write for Radikal.
147
of cultural identities in the mainstream media, especially regarding non-Muslim
minorities and the (re)discovery of Turkey’s multicultural past.
125
Kalan, which means (those) who/which remain, was established in 1991 by Hasan Saltık, who was
half-Kurd and half-Zaza. It now holds a collection of 340 CDs and, with the help of
ethnomusicologists, it archives old, forgotten, classic Turkish music, Ottoman army marches, and
Anatolian folk music. The albums it produced, which covered Armenian, Rum, Kurdish, Laz,
Georgian, Gypsy, Syriac and Yezidi music, became a world-wide phenomenon and received
international awards for their ‘contribution to multiculturalism’ (E.Kalkan, Hürriyet Pazar, 3rd
October 2004). The Belge Publishing House began publishing a series called ‘Mare Nostrum’,
(referring to Romans’ definition of the Mediterranean) in 1991, and it produced more than 60 books
and translated more than 300 from other languages. These books, as their introductory texts have
highlighted, reminded its readers of the ‘multiculturalism’ of Anatolia and tried to persuade them that
‘it was possible to live together’ (Iğsız, 2001:164).
148
According to Bali (2002: 144), the ‘nostalgia’ over ‘good old’ Istanbul was
accompanied with an emerging ‘urbanite consciousness’ among the intelligentsia as
the demographics of Istanbul began to change through rural-urban migration. For
Bali, ‘multiculturalism’ became one of the most popular subjects in the 1990s,
especially since the urban elite, of which the journalists are a part, saw ‘themselves
as minorities’ against the ‘ peasants’ who had ‘invaded’ Istanbul.
Rıfat Bali addressed these secular and modern ‘lifestyle’ concerns in his book Tarz-ı
Hayat’tan Lifestyle’a (from ‘style of life’, written in old Turkish (Tarz-ı Hayat), to
‘lifestyle’. His observations are also central for understanding the changes in the
visibility of minority cultures in the public realm. As he explained in our interview:
126
As Bali (2002:324-337) has explained, in the 1990s there emerged a debate about ‘White Turks’,
or ‘Euro Turks’, and ‘Black Turks’ in the media. Black Turks was used in reference to whoever was
repressed (regardless of religion and ethnicity) and who usually lived in the fringes of urban settings.
White Turk as a concept was used interchangeably with Euro Turk to denote members of the urban,
educated, secular elite who adopted Western values.
149
the old residents of these neighborhood. It was in those days that culture
walks, trips to synagogues and churches became a ‘racon’ [must follow
attitude] and fashion. There were lots of articles and books written on this
matter. For some people this was a 100% genuine interest, for others it was
away of making money, other used it to have fame. Aside from that, there
was a democratization process in Turkey. It was becoming more multi-vocal.
[There was] a rise in civic opposition as well as an interest in the academia to
approach history outside the official definitions. All of these led to a boom of
books and publications (Interview, 9th June 2004).
The so-called Mare Nostrum series published by Belge books constitutes an example
of the proliferation of such publications about the multicultural past. Ragıp Zarakolu
is the owner of Belge Publishing House and also a columnist in pro-Kurdish daily
Özgür Gündem. He considers the Mare Nostrum series as ‘part of the
democratisation process’ in Turkey and believes that the ‘power of literature’ is
stronger in exposing certain realities than that of academic and scientific works.
We have tried to publicise the literature of the groups that have been
considered as non-existent in Turkish social history. We aimed for these
communities to be better understood through a feeling of empathy that is
communicated through literature. This was not only important for those
communities who lived in Turkey but also for the neighbouring countries
with whom we share a history. Because Turkey was cut off from its history
and its region because of the official ideologies, we believe that it is
important that Turkey makes peace with her history and with the societies
that it lived together in the past. …When we started the series we have
received very positive reactions and we created a new wave. We have been
able to break down the barriers with the Greeks. When we published the
Greek author Sotiriou’s book [Send my greetings to Anatolia] in 1988, she
was received like a saint here in Turkey. But it is more difficult with the
Armenians. Even though these two societies lived together for 1000 years
there is a wall between them for 80 years that keep them apart. This is so sad.
We have difficulty in translating Greek and Armenian books, as we need to
do it through another language such as French or English. But our previous
society was multi-lingual. Our grandfathers were able understand each other
in these different languages (Interview, 23rd February 2005).
150
argued that fictional media output such as soaps were also instrumental in bringing
‘sensitive’ issues into the domain of public debate.
The TV series which, from 2000, began to depict the stories of big Kurdish families
and non-Muslim minorities for the first time can also be seen as a factor that
enriched public debate. In fact, as the scenario writer of TV series Yabancı Damat
(‘Foreign Groom’) Sulhi Dölek maintained, due to the low figures in books sales,
television can act as much more powerful instrument in reaching people than literary
works. For Dölek, the challenge of dealing with such sensitive themes for the first
time was to establish a balance between representations of the two sides of any
issues that came up within the story. According to Dölek, this challenge was
successfully met and in the end managed to ‘touch a nerve’ in both Greece and
Turkey, helping to create ‘tolerance’ and ‘winds of peace’ between the two peoples
(Interview via e-mail, 6th September 2005).127
Despite the power of popular fictional media products in normalizing public debate
and promoting an opening in the public sphere towards issues of cultural diversity,
non-fictional media output, including investigative journalism pieces, were not
always welcomed so straightforwardly.
For instance, as Zarakolu has explained, whilst the Mare Nostrum series did not face
any particular pressures because they were literary works. Belge’s other research-
based books, such as the ones that support the recognition of the existence of
‘Armenian genocide’, were subject to pressures and constraints when they were
published.
127
The series, which for the first time depicted a love story between a Turkish girl from a very
traditional family from South Eastern Turkey and a Greek boy from Athens whose parents were
Istanbullite Rum, became a big hit in Turkey and Greece.
151
investigative reporting and independent journalism by publishing journalistic works
on subjects absent from the mainstream media. The interviews, which informed the
first book on minority youth, began as a reportage series for a national newspaper in
1999 but were never published, and Koçoğlu alleges that the data unexpectedly
‘disappeared’ from his computer at the offices of the newspaper (Interview, 4th
March 2005).
Now let’s make some things clear. What you sociologically mean by cultural
diversity is not exactly what I or my colleagues make of it... some people see
it as the existence of different restaurants or the diversity in clothes. If you
see it as a sociological category, as an understanding of different identities,
then I am not sure there is concrete definition for that in the press. The
nationalistic reflexes are very dominant in the press, so cultural diversity can
actually be considered as a threat… For instance, the Jewish music group
Sefarad made an album and this was considered to be cultural diversity and
everyone supported it. Or when the Armenian folk dance groups perform in
various venues nobody contested that. On the contrary they liked it. Now
Kurdish albums can be made, which was banned in the past… But if these
people say, look what you did in 6-7th September events, or during the
152
Capital levy and that is why we have left, then people get disturbed
(Interview, 28th February 2005).
Kaplan’s comments indicate certain reluctance in the media to deal with the taboo
events of Turkey’s recent history. It also reveals how cultural diversity, especially
that of non-Muslims, has been treated as ‘boutique multiculturalism’, exemplified by
the interest in ethnic restaurants, festivals, music and literature. This approach, as
Yumul (2005) explains, tends to establish a ‘cosmetic’ or superficial relationship
with different cultures.
I also previously referred to a study (Çatalbaş, 2000) that observed major differences
between discussion programs on TRT and commercial channels, but saw no
128
The only available media monitoring works are Demir (1995) and a report series ‘Balkan
Neighbours’, to which I refer in the next chapter. There is also an unpublished media monitor
compiled by Agos newspaper that was given to me during my fieldwork.
153
substantial differences in the coverage of ‘sensitive issues’ within the news and
current affairs output of public and private broadcasters.
The different findings of these studies relate to their respective sampling strategies, a
fact that endorses our discussion of the discrepancies between internal and external
diversity in the media. Somer (2005), who included both news and opinion columns
in his study, observed a transformation in the way the word Kurd was used to refer
to Kurdish cultural identity and argues that greater democratisation in Turkey has
changed the way it is mediated and debated. However, studies conducted by Bek-
Gencel (2001) and Wall and Sezgin (2005) focused only on news articles and
therefore concluded that the different identities in society were not reflected in all
their diversity. In this light, as my respondent Oral Calışlar also maintained
(Interview, 23rd February 2005), a diversity of opinions exists among individual
columnists but it does not necessarily reflect an institutionally sanctioned internal
diversity.
129
Similar problems were also reported to exist in the Greek media, within which coverage of
sensitive ‘national taboos’ continues to undermine professional codes such as objectivity and balance
and inhibits journalistic freedom by paving the way for self-censorship (Özgüneş and Terzis, 2000;
Tılıç, 1998).
154
and is not at all criticised in the news. The liberal media in an economic
sense is statist in politics and considers the ‘other’ as threats.
When I say historical delay I mean that these discussions could not be made
when those minorities were still here. In the past co-habitation in the society
was welcomed in a mature manner. But due to developments about Cyprus,
and later on, when the Armenian issues emerged on the agenda in a bloody
way with ASALA, all these discussions were suppressed. Now, when Turkey
discovered such a discussion, Turkey does not have that many minorities any
longer (Interview, 1st March 2005).
Ersin Kalkan of Hürriyet, similarly argued that there was no longer a valid pretext to
justify the suppression of these issues because, just as establishing a communist
party was permitted after the collapse of communism, non-Muslims only became
‘worthy’ participants in national culture after the demography of the country had
changed and many minorities had already left (Interview, 28th February 2005).
Kürşat Bumin, who teaches journalism and produces a media monitor page for the
reformed Islamist leaning daily Zaman, also claimed that Turkey’s history was not
put under scrutiny until recently. However, he also drew attention to another
significant problem, the influence of the military and politics in public life, an
opinion confirmed by the findings of Bek-Gencel (2001) that were mentioned
previously. As he further explained:
There are a number of factors that might explain the reproduction of the statist
outlook within the media. Firstly, the discussion at the beginning of this chapter has
shown that, from its inception, mass media was regarded as a driving force behind
modernisation, and journalists were seen as part of the bureaucratic elite or the
‘propagators of official ideology’ (Frey, 1965, cited in Gürkan 2003: 153). In this
light, Gürkan (2003: 156) has argued that the press in particular managed to retain
its central position throughout the top-down modernisation process in Turkey and
has always rallied behind the military interventions that have shaped Turkish politics.
For instance, in the so-called 28th February process the eventual resignation of the
Welfare party from the coalition government resulted from public pressure that was
not only fuelled by the military but also by the active support of mainstream
newspapers such as Hürriyet, Milliyet, and Sabah (Bali, 2002). The media’s
adherence to established discourses of secularism, which are kept under the
guardianship of the military130, can also be explained by the fear felt by middle and
upper-middle classes that their lifestyles were under threat (Özcan, 2000: 56).
130
Over the duration of this project, the rift between the so-called secular establishment and Islamists
has widened acutely in the AKP government, especially in the period leading to the early general
elections on 22nd July 2007, which resulted in AKP’s victory and won them a second term in office.
The election came after a turbulent period during which the first round of votes to elect the President
was rejected on the 27th of April 2007 due to a dispute over the quorum needed in the general
assembly. On that night, the army published a statement on its website and expressed their overt
disapproval for a non-secular candidate becoming president. Abdullah Gül was elected president on
the 28th of August 2007 after the AKP secured a majority in the parliament for a second term.
156
The second factor explaining the persistence of statist or hegemonic discourses in
the media can be found in the impact of media conglomeration and the liberal
economic transformation since the 1980s. As Oral Calışlar explained:
Due to concerns about their circulation, the press likes to tickle the primitive
tendencies that exist in public opinion and likes to internalise the general
ideas that primitive readers [support]. Let’s say there is a problem with
Cyprus. Due to circulation [concerns] they can be more aggressive and
nationalistic than anybody else’ (Interview, 23rd February 2005).
Umur Talu, on the other hand, referred to other influences of the changing economic
logic of media systems that have led professional journalists into ‘repression’ and
‘internalisation’, processes which might lead to ‘overt’ and ‘covert censorship’ in the
media. As he put it:
Some issues are not covered in the media because many people due to their
mentality and lifestyle do not consider [these] problems…for example, social
issues are less debated in the media compared to the past. This is because the
media is generally the big [conglomerate] media, and because media groups
are actors that have transactions in the market, and the executives have a
mentality and lifestyle that is very market economy based (Interview, 1st
March 2005).
Etyen Mahçupyan, an ethnic Armenian writer who in 2007 became the general
director of the Armenian Agos newspaper, also agreed that the biggest taboo in
Turkey is its history. His experiences support Talu’s comments on the more subtle
processes of constraint - such as self-censorship - that impact upon the mediation of
differences:
In all the newspapers that I worked for some of my work was not published.
Had I not been Armenian maybe they would be…Sometimes what you write
creates discomfort, and it is usually related to history. But it is not only about
1915 [referring to the Armenian deportations and massacres], generally about
history itself. People who live abroad think that the Armenian problem in
Turkey is due to the genocide. But it is only a small fraction of the
problem…There is a kind of history that was given to people in Turkey and it
becomes difficult to say something outside it. And when you do, the
newspaper gets afraid of the retaliations that might be directed against
it…and they then tell you not to publish it... It may be that the administration
of the newspaper agrees with what you are saying but they are worried about
157
the attacks that might come from the state or from other places (Interview, 7th
March 2005).
In the last period they [big newspapers] try to review their outlook and style
on these issues. But the rupture point is that, if an issue is at the level of state
policy, they do not want to express anything that might offend it. This is
especially the case with newspapers such as Hürriyet and Sabah.
According to Oral Çalışlar there are number of factors that engender difficult
relations between the state and conglomerate media which limit the freedom of the
press in general:
First of all, the capital [conglomerate media] is very fragile and the
governments are very powerful. The governments can easily say ‘if you
criticise me you know what will happen’. In return, the bosses [media owners]
turn to journalists and ask them not to be too sharp in the language they are
using. This creates pressures on journalists on what can be written. Secondly,
following 28th February some reports produced by the government – which
later turned out to be engineered – were published in newspapers. They
targeted some journalists as collaborators of the PKK. These journalists later
on lost their jobs and even the media published reports that targeted their
own colleagues… Thirdly, the same goes for the Kurdish problem.
Newspapers again published some reports that were produced by the state
bureaucracy (Conference speech, 15th March 2005).
Obviously, the processes of news production, and the economic, cultural and
organisational constraints on media professionals and journalists (see Tumber, 1999;
2000; 2007), are extensive enough to be the subject of research in their own right.
Indeed, they have already been addressed extensively in the Turkish context (see
Adaklı, 2006; Tılıç, 1998; 2001). Nevertheless, within the remit of this thesis, the
above mentioned comments accurately reveal the contradictory dynamics of external
and internal diversity within the Turkish media system. They also challenge the
158
classical liberal approach to media, which, as Garnham (1990: 105) has maintained,
propagates the idea that the ‘market can ensure the necessary freedom from state
control and coercion.’
These findings also accentuate some of the ‘top-down’ pressures exerted upon the
media system. Among the pressures identified by Curran (1996: 139-142),
‘corporate ownership’, ‘media concentration’ and the ‘ambivalence of state power’
seem to emerge as the most relevant for our discussion. Curran (1996: 139) has
argued that these pressures ‘pull the media towards the orbit of powerful groups in
society’ and ‘undermine - or potentially undermine - their claim to independence and
neutrality, their disinterested mediation of the collective discourses of society.’
Hence, although the direct state control and monopoly over the ‘market for loyalties’
was loosened during the course of commercialisation, the neoliberal transformation
of the media does not seem to have achieved an equivalent cultural and political
liberalisation within Turkey’s media structure.
For Oral Çalışlar, the Kurdish issue was the primary internal factor that brought
about changes in the acknowledgment of cultural differences. Other internal factors
included the rise of Islamic identity politics and the Alevi community’s demands for
recognition. As he put it:
These three big dynamics have marked the last twenty years and placed
“multiculturalism” on the top of the agenda in Turkey. The external factor is
the European Union. The EU has important rules about the cultural rights of
minorities. This was reflected as an external factor in Turkey and met
159
resistance in two aspects: the status quo reacted because it was not used to it
until now. They said ‘you want to divide us’. The second reaction however
argued that ‘we need to accept these changes’ (Interview, 23rd February
2005).
The impact of the Europeanisation process is viewed as one of the most significant
factors behind the normalisation of cultural diversity and the ways in which it is
recognised, debated and mediated. As Sefa Kaplan of Hürriyet similarly argued:
After 2000 the EU has become a real thing. The pressure from the EU and
the ceasefire in the southeast have created an atmosphere in which [cultural
diversity] can be discussed. Previously, people used to say that if we discuss
these issues the country will be divided and segregated. It did not divide. On
the contrary, people have become more enlightened about these issues
(Interview, 28th February 2005).
Oktay Ekşi, a veteran journalist and head column writer at Hürriyet, also emphasised
the importance of the Europeanisation process. As he put it:
Ahmet Taşgetiren, from the Islamist leaning Yeni Şafak newspaper, similarly
highlighted the importance of international human rights instruments and the EU
process:
I personally do not get very excited about the European Union. However, the
steps taken in Turkey in areas of human rights would not have been possible
without the impact of the EU, I know that. The EU-Turkey relations in that
sense have been useful, and Turkey has become a more democratic country. I
feel freer as a writer (Interview, 9th March 2005).
160
observes the changes in media attitudes towards official minorities since the late
1990s, especially due to the Europeanisation process.
There are those however who believe that Europeanisation alone cannot explain the
transformation within the media in terms of its dealings with cultural diversity. For
instance, Ferai Tınç has emphasised the significance minority rights issues gained
globally and has maintained that these changes in Turkey would have taken place
regardless of the EU process. As she put it,
They will take place because [things] reached that stage. Everything pushes
each other. There is a two-fold process. On the one hand there is growing
racism and xenophobia, and on the other minority rights gain more
significance. The minority rights are expanding in the world and it is
impossible for such a period not to influence Turkey (Interview, 22nd March
2005).
In line with this view, Emre Aköz from Sabah newspaper argued that, although
Europeanisation has been a very important factor, it must be viewed as another
aspect of the general globalisation process affecting Turkey (Interview, 6th April
2005). Kürşat Bumin of Zaman also claimed that the EU was a significant agent of
leverage that transformed the way that minority rights and problems are debated and
acknowledged in Turkey, yet he also emphasised the global dynamics impacting on
this transformation. As he stated, ‘We should not ask whether this process would
have taken place without the [impact of] the EU. Some things will happen in Turkey
161
but perhaps not so fast. Nowhere in the world is it possible now to sustain a closed
society.’ (Interview, 7th March 2005).
The Kurdish issue was discussed on television screens even before 1999.
There was no mention of Copenhagen criteria or Acquis. The Kurdish
problem was debated for days and months on the screens until the early
hours of the day. I am one of those who attended at least 20-30 TV programs
and joined the debate. So, the EU has coincided with this situation…. One
cannot say Turkey is a monolithic country in which nobody can make their
voices heard. No. Turkey resembles neither Iraq, nor Syria nor Egypt. Kurd
can speak, Alevi can speak, Armenian can speak and, by taking certain
things into consideration, Islamist can speak. They can voice their opinions.
They may get some threats for voicing the opinions but they cannot be
eliminated (Interview, 23rd February 2005).
Conclusion
This chapter has explored the factors and conditions that shaped the mediation of
cultural identities until the end of the 1990s, and has also considered the impact of
Europeanisation reforms on the expression of cultural diversity in Turkey. In light of
interviews and other data, this chapter has identified the internal and external factors
that were influential in shaping the mediation of diversity. The internal factors
pertained to the ‘ruptures’ in Turkish politics over the last twenty131 years, namely
131
Umur Talu referred to ethnic and religious cleavages over the last twenty years as ‘ruptures’
(Interview, 1st March 2005).
162
the emergence of ethnic-based Kurdish nationalism and its armed campaign, as well
as the rise of Islam in politics. When considering the post-1980 situation in Turkey,
there emerges three currents which influences the ways in which social and political
contestation has been framed: economic liberalisation, the Kurdish ‘issue’(which
started in 1984), and the rise of political Islam in the 1990s. These all had an impact
on the media and on expressions of diversity.
Although greater democratisation was taking place in Turkey from the mid-1990s,
the emergence of a new conglomerate media environment, which followed the
break-up of the state monopoly on broadcasting, created contradictory consequences
for expressions of diversity and freedom of expression. The neoliberal
transformation of the media system opened up new venues of expression for those
who were previously excluded from the public sphere. But it also bolstered media
conglomeration and failed to prevent nationalistic tendencies in the media. The
discrepancy between the capacities of news programming and popular cultural
products to reflect diversity, has demonstrated that representations of cultural
163
diversity, especially of non-Muslims, have mostly remained at the level of nostalgia
or ‘boutique’ multiculturalism.
External factors that challenge and transform the mediation of cultural diversity and
identities can be identified as the changing international political climate at the end
of the Cold War, the impact of globalisation and Europeanisation, and the influence
of human rights instruments.
The general argument presented at the beginning of this chapter –has been that the
economic liberalisation of the media structure did not necessarily correspond to
cultural liberalisation. Indeed, as the data demonstrate, the privileged position of the
state in the ‘market for loyalties’ remained strong, and it continued to shape, limit
and constrain the mediation of cultural identities and diversity until the early 1990s.
The developments after the mid-1990s can be explained by changes in Turkey’s
‘internal dynamics’, as well as the greater influence of globalisation and human
164
rights discourses in the Turkish political and social setting. As the interviews have
revealed, Europeanisation, at least in the sense of the EU’s direct impact, has been a
significant catalyst accelerating this process, but it was not considered as the only
harbinger of transformation.
165
Chapter 5
The Old Minority Media Regime: non-Muslim
minorities and their media
Introduction
This chapter focuses on the ‘old’ minority media regime in Turkey that mediated the
role of the officially accepted non-Muslim minority communities. As the previous
chapter has demonstrated, historical taboos relating to national minorities and Kurds
were among the factors that conditioned the mediation of cultural identities within
the general media structure in Turkey until the end of the 1990s. This situation
began to change during the Europeanisation reform period, which acted as a catalyst
in transforming Turkey’s ‘mediascape’ (Appadurai, 1990). The next chapter
examines these developments, particularly the shift in favour of the Kurds that
occurred when broadcasting in the Kurdish language began in 2004. However, such
changes within the official minority media environment have been neglected and
under-researched within academia. This chapter brings attention to this aspect in the
mediation of cultural identities by focusing on the media produced ‘by and for
minorities’ (Dayan, 1998).
In specific, this chapter looks at transformations within Armenian, Rum (Greek) and
Jewish newspapers, publishing houses and other media developments in such
communities. It aims to address some of the goals of this thesis by examining the
significance of different minority media practices, both for the maintenance of
cultural identity in the respective communities and their implications for wider
debates on citizenship, democracy and cultural diversity in Turkey. Furthermore,
this chapter explores the factors behind changes (if any) in the minority mediascape,
and their relation to the transformative influence of Europeanisation reforms.
166
collective memory, and continue to problematise the citizenship status of particular
minorities. As the previous chapter has demonstrated, these problems also found
expression in the public realm, and non-Muslim minorities did not enter the national
media agenda until the end of the Cold war.
However, the developments discussed in the previous chapter, namely the growing
interest in a multicultural past, have challenged the official understanding of
Turkishness. The impact of the Kurdish issue on the revival of identity politics in
general seems to have been instrumental in the way non-Muslim minority
institutions have participated in the public realm and have sought visibility through
their activities. Indeed, as the following comments of minority intellectuals
demonstrate, such minorities began to have a say in the exercise and configuration of
citizenship through the activities of their media institutions.
Rıfat Bali also held a similar view about the transformations that have taken place in
minority communities since the 1990s:
It was especially the case for Greeks and Armenians. Not the Jews, because
Jews were married to the state, and they never flirted with the opposition.
This is why nobody looked at them and nobody flirted with them, because
Jews were considered to be statist. So, people began to talk to those, en quote,
who had a ‘problem’ with the state. Those who had problems with the state
were Greeks and Armenians who, especially after 1996, began to talk
(Interview, 9th June 2004).
167
In fact, as we shall see in more detail in following sections, the emergence of Aras
Publishing House in 1993 and Agos newspaper in 1996 are major examples and
indications of the changes within the ‘minoriterian’ micro public sphere. Although
non-Muslim minority media historically emerged to provide community
communications, developments in the last decade have compelled them to be more
active, open and visible. In this light, the emergence of the new practices and venues
discussed in this chapter must be understood in terms of such communities’ active
involvement and participation in public life.
Therefore, this chapter acknowledges that the old minority media tradition in Turkey
has been dependent on the national and international political climate, and addresses
the contradictions over the sociological acceptance of non-Muslims as Turkish
citizens. However, it is argued here that minority media have been awakened and re-
vitalised through the effects of globalisation and the advance of new technologies, as
well as by the wider democratisation process in Turkey.
168
1998). These factors are linked, as they all relate to how minority media outlets fulfil
their double role in the maintenance of cultural identity.
The non-Muslim minority media mainly flourished in the second half of the 19th
century, making it one of the oldest examples in Europe. In fact, its history can be
traced back to the second half of the 15th century when Sephardic Jews, after being
expelled from Spain, introduced the first printing press into the Ottoman Empire.
The first printing house was established in Istanbul in 1493 by Jewish immigrants,
and mainly published religious texts as well as books in Spanish, Latin and Greek
(Topuz, 2003). The first printing press in Armenian was established in 1567,
followed by the first Greek press in 1627 in Istanbul (Seropyan in Karakaşlı, 2001).
Although the printing press was put into use by the Ottoman Turks in 1726, modern
newspapers in the Empire emerged in the mid-19th century, at a later stage in the
modernisation period.
The first Turkish newspaper and the official gazette of the Empire, Takvim-i Vekayi,
emerged in 1831 and was published in languages spoken by the various communities,
including Greek, Arabic, Armenian and Persian (Topuz, 2003). Today’s non-Muslim
minority media can therefore be seen as a legacy of the ancient imperial millet
system, within which each community had the right to produce community
publications and newsletters. This tradition continued in Republican Turkey as the
Lausanne Treaty granted non-Muslim communities the right to retain their
community organisations and institutions.
169
The ‘secular’ or ‘modern’ ideologies such as nationalism have also influenced the
non-Muslims in the Empire in the 19th century (Yumul and Bali, 2001). It would
perhaps be useful to refer briefly to some of the main cleavages or ideologies that
have shaped these communities in their recent history in order to shed light on the
contemporary situation in terms of diversity of actors, voices and opinions that can
be found within the community and their media.
For the Jews the main nationalistic ideology or activity that was also allowed legally
in the Ottoman Empire was ‘Zionism’. It mainly aimed to indoctrinate Jewish
culture and the Hebrew language and there were a number of publications affiliated
with it. However, this ideology ‘contradicted’ the Republican ideals of creating a
unified national identity and the leaders of the Jewish community encouraged the
community members to follow the so-called ‘Alliance’ 132 ideology that advised
‘assimilation’ into the host country. In the Republican period the most significant
tensions between these two ideologies were felt during 1947 and 1948 when Israel
was founded as an independent state. During this period, ‘Zionist’ ideology was
fervently propagated via the flourishing Jewish press of the time. As the writers
further maintain, the influence of Zionism was not felt as strongly after 1949 when
almost half the Jewish population in Turkey immigrated to Israel (Bali, Yumul and
Benlisoy, 2002: 919-920; Yumul and Bali, 2001: 366)
132
Alliance Universalle Israelite schools were formed in various cities in Turkey and other Near
Eastern countries in order to educate the Jews in certain crafts, French language and encourage them
to become good citizens in their country of residence.
170
also validated by the comments of some of my respondents, such as Lizi Behmoaras,
Karen Şarhon and Tilda Levi, which appear in more detail in the following sections.
Yet, as Margulies (2005: 48) remarks, being an Armenian or a Rum minority is more
difficult in Turkey than being Jewish because the Jews did not have any
independence claims or get involved in armed conflict with the state.
Indeed, when we consider the recent history of the Armenian and the Rum
community in Turkey, their well-being and survival is more closely linked to
domestic as well as international politics, pressures and disputes. As commentators
maintain, since the 19th century, three major political parties propagated Armenian
nationalism in the diaspora, especially after the establishment of the Armenian
Soviet Republic and similarly continued their activities through their newspapers,
magazines and social clubs. These political parties’ approaches to nationalism were
based on ‘opposing Turkey’ and ‘acknowledging the 1915 events as genocide’.
According to the scholars, the Armenians in Turkey have not been able to take part
in this type of ‘diaspora politics’. As they further argue, the community leaders in
Turkey have only been active in ‘Armenian politics’ when the rights that were
granted to the Armenians in Lausanne Treaty were ‘breached’. It was only after the
‘visibility of the Armenians in the media increased, they have begun to voice their
search for rights more loudly’ (Bali, Yumul and Benlisoy, 2002: 921). This is why,
as we will discuss in more detail in the following pages, Agos (which emerged in
mid-1990s) represents a transformation within the community, because it has
become a public venue for the expression of different opinions and approaches to
Armenian ‘culture’ and ‘identity’. The differences between the three newspapers in
the ways in which they approach community institutions, the role and function of the
media and language are also documented in more detail in the following sections.
The internal diversity and complexity within the contemporary Rum community
appears to be more difficult to pin down, but it has historically included
communities which differed in their ethnicity, class or even language and politics
(Benlisoy and Benlisoy, 2001). Although the nationalists and Patriarchate have
propagated unification with Greece in early 20th century, after the Greek-Turkish
171
War and the exchange of populations in early 1920s, the Greek community is
believed to have lost most of its political weight in Greek politics. Since the
foundation of the Republic, the fate of the Rum community has become ‘dependent
on the Greek-Turkish relations’ (Bali, Yumul and Benlisoy, 2002: 922). Indeed, as
my respondents have also confirmed, when bilateral relations are unstable, it
becomes potentially harmful for the well-being of the community. Although the
general tendency within non-Muslim communities has been to remain ‘silent’, as the
discussion in the following sections will reveal, there is an ‘openness’ within these
communities that tends to reflect the diversity within intra-community perspectives
on issues of identity and culture. Nevertheless, such diversity is generally difficult to
pin down publicly but the differences within and across communities can be seen in
various notes and comments in the following pages. Agos newspaper is a more
visible and public example of such diversity of opinion, but in the remaining
examples it manifests in more subtle ways.
In the following sections of this chapter, after introducing the officially sanctioned
minority media environment, the focus is firstly on the internal dynamics that
reinforce or challenge the ways in which media helps to maintain cultural identity;
dynamics such as the synergy and co-operation between community institutions, as
well as the economic and intellectual resources possessed by minority communities.
Secondly, external dynamics, such as domestic or international politics, and their
impact on the performance of minority media are evaluated in the Turkish context.
In the final section of this chapter, the transformation within official minority media
is discussed in light of the challenges resulting from these internal and external
dynamics.
The first Armenian newspaper was a version of the first official gazette, Takvim-
Vekayi, and was published under the name LiroKir in 1832 (Tuğlacı, 1994). This
newspaper was financially supported by the Ottoman state and, after a change of title,
continued to be published until 1850. In the same token, the second semi-official
172
gazette, Ceride-i Havadis, was also published in Armenian. The first newspaper
published by the Armenian community itself was launched in Symryna (Đzmir) in
1839 (Karakaşlı, 2001).
As Karakaşlı (2001) has explained, the Armenian press under the Empire included a
variety of publications ranging from children’s magazines, comedy and music
magazines, to magazines on religious education and medicine as well as
encyclopaedia annals and a pioneer feminist magazine. This lively tradition of media
also continued in the Republican period. As Topuz (2003) has stated, until today a
total of 601 titles have been published in Armenian 133 . Today, the Armenian
community has only three newspapers134 catering for a population estimated to be
around 60,000: Jamanak, Marmara and Agos. All three newspapers are delivered to
the densely populated Armenian neighbourhoods in Istanbul, and are also posted to
subscribers all around the world (Karakaşlı, 2001).
Jamanak was established in 1908, shortly after the second constitutional period of
the Ottoman Empire. Jamanak’s general director is Ara Koçunyan, and is the part of
the third generation to manage the newspaper. As he confirmed, it is the oldest
publication in Turkey and the oldest newspaper in the world to be published in
Armenian without interruption. The paper is published everyday except Sunday, has
four pages and now has a circulation of 1,500, which has declined from 15,000 in its
early years. Jamanak uses news agencies, the Internet and the other mass
133
This number is also cited by Ebuziyya (1985) but should be interpreted only as an approximate
figure for all the publications in Armenian language or in Armenian script, as sources refer to
different estimates. For instance, Tuğlacı (1994:39) maintains that, within the borders of Ottoman
Turkey, a total of 887 newspapers and magazines were written in Armenian or in Armenian script
between 1839-1922. He further states that the number of publications in the Republican period was
about 75. Karakaşlı (2001:69) also says that in Istanbul alone, which is the centre of Armenian press,
about 450 newspapers, magazines or annals were published between 1832 and 2001.
134
There are also periodical publications of high school alumni organizations, namely Nor San,
Hobina [with interruptions], Meğu, and Tarlakyuğ. Furthermore, Getronagan High School students
publish Lusadu, and Surp Haç Church School publishes the Punç student magazine. Soğagat is the
official publication for the Armenian Partiarchate in Turkey and the Turkish Armenian Minority
School Teachers Solidarity Foundation publishes the only Armenian childrens’ magazine, Jibid
(Karakaşlı, 2001:68). There is also an online portal that brings together information for Istanbul
Armenians (http://www.bolsohays.com/index.asp).
173
communication media as its sources and mainly focuses on Turkish foreign policy
and diplomacy.
Marmara was established in 1940. It has four black and white pages and is
published in Armenian everyday except Sundays and holidays. As its general
director and head column writer since 1967, Rober Haddeler explained that it has a
circulation of 1,500 and six years ago became the first newspaper to go online solely
in Armenian language. The Internet version receives 400 visitors everyday and the
extended family members of the Istanbul Armenians receive copies of the
newspaper, which are then circulated among each other (though it is difficult to
estimate how many readers it reaches in the diaspora). It has been publishing a
supplement in Turkish every Friday since 2000 in order to reach those who can
speak but cannot read Armenian. Haddeler believes that what distinguishes
Marmara from the other Armenian newspapers in Istanbul is the platform that it
gives to ‘Armenian language and literature’. Marmara also covers stories related to
Armenians in Turkey and abroad, and issues surrounding the betterment the relations
between Turkey and Armenia are highly prioritised (Interview, 16th February 2005).
Agos is the youngest of the community newspapers and was established in 1996.
Nine pages out of twelve are in Turkish and three pages are published in Armenian.
It displays a more ‘oppositional’ character compared to the other community
newspapers (Karakaşlı, 2001). As stated on the newspaper’s website135, it aims to
help those members of the community who cannot read and write in Armenian to
take an ‘active role in the community life’. It also aims to help the Armenian
community, which had previously been ‘introvert’ and ‘closed’, to introduce its
language, history and culture to the wider society in which it lives. Another
important issue for Agos is to inform public opinion about the problems and unfair
treatment faced by the Armenian community. Agos has become a point of reference
for all issues related to the Armenian community (Ermenilik), acting as a defender of
135
www.agos.com.tr/agoshakkinda.htm
174
their rights. As chief editor and columnist at Agos, Hrant Dink136 assumed the role of
‘opinion leader’, making it possible for the Turkish public to know the Armenian
community (Interviews with Rober Koptaş, 13th January 2005 and Ari Hergel, 28th
January 2005).
Aras Publishing House was founded in 1993 in Istanbul, and produces books in both
Turkish and Armenian. As its editors explained, the first steps towards its founding
were taken when a literature teacher, Mıgırdiç Margosyan, started publishing stories
about Diyarbakır, his home town, in the Marmara newspaper. Aras published 70
books in a decade, mainly as a result of voluntary efforts. The house started as a
hobby and took about six years to establish itself, especially in the eyes of
community schools and institutions (Interviews with Payline Tovmasyan, Takuhi
Tovmasyan, Rober Koptaş, 13th January 2005).
As mentioned above, the first printing machine was brought to the Ottoman Empire
in 1493 by Sephardic Jews expelled from Spain in 1492, but the Jewish press also
flourished in the 19th century during Tanzimat Reform period. The first Jewish
newspapers, La Buena Esperansa and La Puerta del Oriente, were published in
Symryna (Izmir) in 1843 and Or Israel newspaper was launched in 1853 in Istanbul.
The only newspaper of the Jewish community published today is Şalom, which was
established in 1947 and used the Judeo-Spanish (Ladino) language until 1984. Since
this date, Şalom has been published weekly in Turkish with only one page in Ladino,
‘in order to keep the ties with the past, to keep the language alive and also to inform
the other believers in other countries.’137
136
Hrant Dink was killed on 19th January 2007. The data used here are part of my interviews
conducted in 2004 and in 2005.
137
http://www.muze500.com/anasayfatr.htm
175
also been producing books and music albums that reflect the Jewish heritage. Its
output includes novels, research books, poetry, and art books in Turkish, English,
French and Judeo-Spanish languages138.
Today Şalom publishes 4,000 copies and around a quarter of these are mailed
abroad. As its chief editor Tilda Levi explained, there are two types of readers in the
diaspora: those who have emigrated and would like to keep up-to-date with events in
Turkey, and academics who are interested in the historical Judeo-Spanish language.
It is the only newspaper in the world that publishes (one page) every week in the
language of Sephardic Jews and this is considered to be its most important mission.
Şalom has grown from four to twenty pages over the last decade and now
accommodates a staff of 40 people, though more than half of these are voluntary
writers (Interview, 25th February 2005).
The Rum press similarly flourished throughout the Tanzimat period, which began in
1839, but dwindled in the 1920s due to the Greek-Turkish wars, which resulted in
the creation of Greece and Turkey as nation states (Türker, 2003). As Türker (2003:
4-8) has explained, when the demographic make up of Turkey changed following
the exchange of populations, the Rum press adjusted to the new situation and began
serving the remaining Greek speaking community in Istanbul, the Rum, who were
exempt from the exchange. According to the first census in 1927, there was a total of
126,633 Rum in Turkey, of which only 100,202 were Turkish citizens. During the
Republican years there were 30 Rum newspapers in Istanbul, now there are only two
newspapers left to cater for this diminishing community.
Apoyevmatini was established in May 1925 is the oldest functioning Rum newspaper
from the Republican era139, and is published everyday apart from weekends. As its
138
http://www.gozlemkitap.com/index.php?contentId=1
139
The other one is the centre-left Cumhuriyet newspaper that, in 1924, replaced the semi-official
organ of the Ankara government, Yeni Gün, published during the war of independence (Topuz, 2003).
176
editor-in-chief Mihail Vassiliadis explained, when Apoyevmatini was founded the
Rum community of Istanbul comprised 10% of the city’s population, which gave the
newspaper a relatively high circulation and readership. However, the situation
started to deteriorate in the 1930s due to the rise of nationalistic and fascist
governments in Europe and their attempts to assimilate minorities (Interview, 11th
January 2005). As Baslangıç (2005) has reported, the history and survival of
Apoyevmatini is considered to parallel that of the Rum population of Istanbul, which
has shrunk from 100,000s to around 2,000. Since the end of the Second World War,
Apoyevmatini’s quality and readership declined, a process that was further
accelerated by the emigration waves following the 6-7th September pogroms in 1955
and the 1964 deportations triggered by the accelerating Cyprus problem. According
to Mr. Vassiliadis, Apoyevmatini today operates as a ‘one-man-show’ driven solely
by his efforts. Its technology is only ‘slightly better than that of Gutenberg’ but the
paper still serves as a focal point for the community. Around 500 copies are
published everyday and the biggest challenge for the newspaper is to encourage the
young generation to use the language.
The second Rum newspaper, Iho, was established in 1977following the events of
1964 and 1974. As its general director, Andreas Rombopulos, explained, it was
created because, at the time, Apoyevmatini was not able to fulfil its role as the
community newspaper due to poor management. Mr. Rombopulos is part of the
second generation to manage the newspaper and has been involved in all aspects of
newspaper publishing since a young age. He is also the Istanbul correspondent for
the Greek Mega Television channel. He is the only journalist left at Iho after the
others emigrated. The most important concerns for the newspaper are the problems
and news relevant to the Rum community, but in the last decade they have begun to
gain a wider coverage. As Mr Rombopulos further explained, the paper survives on
the revenue gathered from official publicity materials issued by churches, such as
announcements about masses and other events, because the income from private
advertising has declined with the population. The Greek community, which is
estimated to be 2,000 people in Istanbul, still constitute a large proportion of Iho’s
readership. It is an afternoon newspaper and has a circulation of 400 copies a day.
177
The staff consists of less than five people who either work voluntary or part-time
due to the financial constraints (Interview, 1st April 2005).
In light of this overview, the non-Muslim minority media regime in Turkey seems to
display a hybrid character when framed by the literature on community, diasporic
media or ethnic minority media. As previously discussed, various concepts within
the field, such as minority media, ethnic media, diasporic media and immigrant
media, have been used interchangeably to refer to issues related to minorities and
their media consumption or production. Currently, non-Muslim minority media
operate primarily as community media. As Jankowski (2002: 7-8) has explained,
community media are based on voluntary efforts, have locally oriented and produced
content, and aim to reach both local and geographically dispersed audiences.
Despite the fact that Lausanne only recognised the ‘religious character’ of non-
Muslims and neglected the problem of their ‘ethno-national’ identity (Alexandris,
2003), their media must be distinguished from the religiously oriented community
media in Western Europe. For instance, they must be treated as distinct from the
Muslim media in France and Britain (Rigoni, 2005) because, as we shall see, their
religious belonging is not the only determinant of their media content. Furthermore,
despite their uneasy relationship with wider diasporic groups, they do have an
140
A general conclusion of my interviews with Greek and Armenian respondents is that they consider
themselves ‘more local’ than the Turks and view themselves as different from the Greeks of Greece
and the wider Armenian diaspora in general. In her analysis of the Muslim and Turkish minority in
Greece (which were formed as a result of the same Treaty), Madinaou (2005) used the concept
‘beached diaspora’ in relation to these groups. As she explained, these groups were not formed as a
result of immigration - they did not cross the borders to arrive in Greece - but rather the borders of the
new nation state were delineated around them.
178
immanent relationship to the diaspora culture which is increasingly evident in the
media content. This is because they cater for the needs of their communities both by
informing them about local minority community issues and by reporting on their
‘diasporic connections’ 141 . Therefore, the notion of ‘minority media’ 142 , in the
widest usage of the term, is more suitable to define them.
In this light, scholars generally draw attention to the ‘double role’ played by
particularistic media. On the one hand, they contribute to the maintenance of cultural
identity, traditions and language, empower the minority groups and open up linkages
to diasporic connections and affiliations (Dayan, 1998; Riggins, 1992;
Tsagarousianou, 2002; Georgiou, 2005). On the other hand, as Dayan (1998) has
also highlighted, they offer ‘competing versions of a group identity’, they establish
linkages between the mainstream media, and contribute to the emergence of
different levels of the public sphere. In the following sections, the focus is on those
141
See Sreberny (2005) for the ‘mixedness’ of minority media that inform communities about their
country of origin, country of residence and the diasporas. See Georgiou (2005) for the situation of
diasporic media at the conjunction of local, national and the transnational spaces.
142
Rigoni (2005) has argued that minority media encompasses ‘alternative’, ‘ethnic’ or ‘religious’
media that fall outside the mainstream.
179
factors that shape, limit or enhance the ‘double role’ of minority media in the
Turkish context.
For the Armenian community the protection of the language, their schools and
churches are considered to be the most important signifiers of the survival and
livelihood of Armenian cultural identity. Minority media in this context assumes an
auxiliary role in the maintenance of social cohesion and acts as a support mechanism
for community institutions.
180
problems of the community and the creation of a healthy platform for the
discussion of these problems (Interview, 4th February 2005).
According to Koçunyan, the support Jamanak and other newspapers provide for
school activities and other community institutions is crucial for the maintenance of
cultural identity and heritage. As he put it:
Our community have 20 schools, and they all survive by the resources of the
community. They have annual campaigns for these schools and you have to
give support to them [as a newspaper] so that the kids in the new generations
know our culture. Although some of these schools are not fulfilling this role,
it is of utmost importance to maintain the participation of people in
community life… The [aim] is to bring as many people as possible into
community life so there is a synergy and the sensitivities of the community
are felt by many people (Interview, 4th February 2005).
181
all these schools and churches and I stayed to protect them (Interview, 13th
January 2005).
Her comments about both the Armenians in the diaspora and those who are in
Turkey but who have been integrated into the ‘majority’ way of life, seem to reflect
resentment and frustration. However, they also seem to indicate that the maintenance
of cultural identity in small and ‘fragile’ communities, such as the non-Muslims in
Turkey, can become almost a duty of conscience even though it does not always
reflect personal choices about religion or other aspects of community life. In the
eyes of what might be considered as the elites of the community, the educational
role of the media in the survival of language and tradition becomes a significant
concern. For instance, according to Rober Haddeler, the chief editor and columnist
of Marmara newspaper, community media must take its place among the chief
community institutions because it helps to preserve and maintain language use,
which is as important as education for the transmission of culture and traditions. As
he explained in our interview:
[In our schools] students receive 12 years of education. If these students are
3,500 only 35 of them will read the language in the proper way as we expect
them to do. In our community, the intelligentsia and the Patriarchate always
mention the church and the schools as the most the important institutions.
However, I have been campaigning for years to include the press among
these, like the three holy values of God. If there is no press then it is very
difficult to speak of a culture in a place…Our language is getting weaker,
that is why the press has to claim that responsibility. If I do not exist [as a
newspaper] my readers can follow news from elsewhere but my aim is to
give them the pleasure of reading the same news as the big media in the
Armenian language. We always put the Turkish meaning of a less used
Armenian word in parenthesis in the newspaper. Of course there is an
educational aspect of it as well (Interview, 16th February 2005).
Although they publish in both Turkish and Armenian, Aras also seems to be
establishing itself as a key institution in the survival of Armenian language and
identity. However, as its editors agreed, the fact that it took Aras six years to gain
credibility and prestige among the community schools helps to elucidate the decline
of intellectual capital within the Armenian community (Interviews with Payline
Tovmasyan, Takuhi Tovmasyan, Rober Koptaş, 13th January 2005).
182
Notwithstanding the problem of literacy within the Armenian community, this is not
the most imminent concern for Istanbullite Rum. For them the most immediate
threat is the rapid decline of their population, which, according to church estimates,
is now 1,244 people (Kalkan, 2005). In line with the comments put forward by
Armenian editors, the Rum community media also attempts to retain its central
position in the mediation of community affairs within the micro public sphere of the
community.
Indeed, considering the small size of the Rum population, producing two
newspapers for the community should be understood as a very significant effort to
sustain the lively tradition of community life. As Mr. Rombopulos further explained,
improving diplomatic relations between Greece and Turkey offers an opportunity for
the community to prevent itself from completely disappearing, as the growing
economic and trade relations in this new improved political setting are opening up
new job opportunities for young people who can speak the Greek language.
Nevertheless, the lack of human capital still seems to be condemning community
institutions to difficult conditions. For instance, as mentioned earlier, all aspects of
183
production of the oldest community newspaper, Apoyevmatini, are dependent on the
sole efforts of its only editor. As Mr Vassiliadis explained in the interview:
As Mr. Rombopulos explained, although the Rum community ‘do not have a literacy
problem’, there is still a noticeable decline in language skills. This is because, since
the 1990s, community schools have compensated for the diminishing number of
ethnic Rum students by recruiting Greek Orthodox ethnic Arabs 143 . In order to
counteract the erosion of language skills, Iho newspaper adopted new measures. As
Mr. Rombopulos explained:
These new measures can be seen as the continuation of a long tradition in Iho. Its
founder, Mr. Rombopulos’ father, was a head-teacher in a community school and,
from its inception, Iho bestowed particular importance to the interface between
minority media and minority educational institutions. For instance, since the
beginning, Iho organised essay writing competitions, quizzes and debates among
school children in order to engage them in community life.
143
This is a practice that was introduced as a counter measure to the decline of the community, but it
is not official policy in the schools. For a student to be enrolled in a community school their religious
orientation needs to be identified on their ID cards, hence the system is still covertly based on
religious belonging rather than ethnicity. As Mr. Rombopulos explained, some ethnic groups -
particularly Yugoslavs, who were considered to be a part of the Greek Orthodox community - were
prevented from enrolling in Greek community schools in the 1970s because their ID card or a
passport did not state their exact religious affiliation. These people eventually emigrated. The current
situation has become even more complex due to inter-marriage between Greeks and Armenians.
184
Ladino, also known as Judeo-Spanish, is not the teaching language in Jewish
educational institutions144. After the Republic was established, policies on the Unity
of Education (Tevhid-i Tedrisat) were introduced in order to centralise and
homogenise education, and Ladino fell from use. Furthermore, the Jewish press in
Turkey was not very active between 1923 and the foundation of Israel in 1947.
However, after this date, about seven new publications emerged, some of which
positively supported migration to the newly founded state. After the migration wave
ended, the ‘brave sounds’ in the Jewish press again fell silent (Hürriyet, 24th October
1998)145.
As previously mentioned, some interviewees have argued that the Jewish minority
differs from other groups in terms of its integration and acceptance of the status quo
in Turkey. Rıfat Bali stated that ‘Jews were married to the state’, and has
commented elsewhere that the Jewish press is part of a system of ‘closed circuit
communication’ because it primarily aims to sustain communication within the
community - it has no oppositional identity. Bali argued that:
An opposition towards the political power is not possible due to the nature of
the minorities. Because the interests of the community are prioritised, the
Jewish press did not provide a living space for the oppositional views. Those
issues that [fall outside community] are not welcomed after a point when it
does not correspond with the strategies of the community (Hürriyet, 24th
October 1998)
Another Jewish writer, Lizi Behmoaras, who used to work as an editor at Şalom in
the 1990s, also holds a similar view about the newspaper. For her, working at Şalom
was ‘dancing’ in a confined place. As she explained in the interview:
144
There is one educational complex in Istanbul that comprises of elementary and secondary
education. The language of education is Turkish but students also study one hour of Hebrew in
addition to English language classes (http://www.muze500.com/tarihce.htm).
145
As Rıfat Bali stated in this article, although Jewish shops and synagogues were also ruined during
the 6-7th September Pogrom, the Jewish press did not cover these issues in depth so as to avoid
further incitement of the angry mobs.
185
Şalom is both reflector and leader of public opinion (in the community). Its
attitude is this: to be pro-government, not to oppose anyone, and refrain from
doing anything that would challenge the status quo. This is due to a natural
selection. Since Israel was founded in 1948 there was a big wave of
migration. There were economic reasons, the will to live under better
conditions and the hope to be treated equally. The people who (had) hope
were the fighters, so when they were gone the passive people who do not like
change stayed…[the community] is, with one word, passive, it is ambivalent
and does not take a stand in any subject. I do not say these in a bad way, but
this is how I see it. It is devoid of an ideology and an ideal; it complies with
the bourgeoisie in Turkey and in the world (Interview, 16th March 2005).
According to its editor in-chief, Tilda Levi, its position as the only newspaper
representing the community imposes certain limitations on Şalom’s content, and she
admits that they refrain from making political statements in general. However, as she
further explained, this role also charges them with responsibilities. For instance, the
mission to protect the language falls on Şalom, and a one-page supplement is
published every week in Ladino146. Şalom also tries to reflect the memory, traditions
and customs of the community through specialised pages about Judaism, traditions
and festivities. As is the case with Armenian and Rum community media, Şalom
also places a particular importance on encouraging the interest of younger
generations in the Jewish language and culture. As Tilda Levi further expressed:
Our most important mission is to make the young generations read the
newspaper and to include them in the future administrative cadres of the
newspaper. Therefore, we have been trying to keep a balance in the issues
covered in the newspaper so that it is interesting for the youth. We have
pages that teach and remind the traditions and religious festivities. But we
also have art and sport pages in order to attract young people (Interview, 23rd
February 2005).
146
She further explained that Ladino for a long time was transmitted orally within the family and only
recently acquired an educational grammatical structure, because the Sephardic Jews who were
dispersed around the Mediterranean also incorporated the local languages into Ladino.
186
religious organisations are considered to be the chief institutions for sustaining
traditions and cultural identity, community media emerge as a significant
counterpart in this capacity.
This is one of the double roles played by minority media and will be discussed in the
following sections. Yet, before moving on to the openings and changes within
minority media over the last decade, it is necessary to consider the political and
social context of the 1990s in relation to the representation and mediation of
minorities in the public realm.
It is often argued that one of the reasons behind the emergence of minority media is
the impact of the stereotyping, vilification, or misrepresentation of minorities in the
public sphere. In these situations, minority media emerge as a reaction to such
negative and all encompassing representations (Gross, 1998; Husband, 2005). The
founding of Agos newspaper and Aras publishing house can be considered among
187
the most visible contemporary examples of this process, yet they do not constitute
the only efforts or activities through which minority communities attempt to deal
with negative associations in the public realm.
For instance, the chief editor of Marmara newspaper made the following comments
in this regard:
If you asked me 10 years ago about the way national media dealt with
Armenians I would say it was horrible, horrible. One would wonder how it
was possible for an Armenian to live in Turkey, if they only looked at the
media. Because from the biggest, most popular newspaper to the small ones,
all of them were full of fire-breathing comments about non-Muslims in
general and Armenians in particular. Thank God, it has changed a lot since
10-15 years, and the biggest national newspapers are defending the rights of
minorities, more than the minorities themselves… Really, the Armenian
issue is a sensitive issue, and if someone is writing about the Armenians they
have to take into account many things’ (Interview, 16th February 2005).
188
space between Greece and Turkey, and the campaigns for international recognition
of the 1915 events as ‘genocide’. During the 1990s it was particularly the Greek and
Armenian communities that came under increasing pressure.
The dispute between Greece and Turkey over a tiny islet (Imia/Kardak) in the
Aegean almost brought the two countries to the brink of war in 1996 because of
hostile and exaggerated media coverage. Terzis and Özgüneş (2000: 409) have
argued that, in this conflict, the media managed to ‘manufacture’ consent for the
nationalist positions of the incumbent governments in both countries. On an
international level, the difficult relationship between Greece and Turkey over
Cyprus and the Aegean continued throughout the period in question. Meanwhile, in
the domestic arena, extreme Islamist groups threatened or attacked the Greek
Orthodox Patriarchate in Istanbul.
International tensions, such as the intractable Cyprus problem, have been impacting
on the way minority media performed since the 1960s. The chief editor of Rum
newspaper Apoyevmatini, Mihail Vassiliadis, has been a journalist for 50 years. In
1960, as he put it, he was accused of ‘propagating Greekness [Rumluk propagandası]
in a fashion to debase the national unity’ when he worked for the Rum newspaper
Elefterophoni. He recalled the difficulties faced by the newspapers in light of the
growing international conflict over Cyprus as follows147:
They summoned us to the 1st office148 [the office in the police that used to
deal with minorities] a couple of times. It was forbidden to use the name
Tatavla for here [this is the old name for the Kurtuluş neighbourhood of
Istanbul where we made the interview], we could not use Pera for Beyoğlu,
only Beyoğlu. We could not say Galata for Galata, we had to say Karaköy,
otherwise we would be in trouble. At some stage, I wrote a piece and
mentioned Ephesus [a touristic Hellenic ancient city near Izmir, Turkey].
147
Mr Vassiliadis continued the legal battle for 10 years, and was acquitted after the 3rd appeal in
1975. He joined the majority of Greeks who were leaving Istanbul, only to return in 2003 to take over
Apoyevmatini.
148
A commission entitled ‘Minorities Subordinate Commission’ have been created with a secret
circular in 1962 in order to monitor minorities’ doings against national security. It has been again
secretly abolished in 2004 under Europeanisation reforms (Hürriyet, 23rd March 2004).
189
They called me to the office to enquire where I found this name. I told the
guy that I read it on the brochures of the Ministry of Culture. He then told me
to stop being so cunning and not to do it again. There is still a great deal of
auto-censorship. For instance, in the news that comes from Europe, they use
the name –“The President of Cyprus, Papadopoulos” but we have to say
the ”leader of the Greek Administration” (Interview, 11th January 2005).
The worsening Greek-Turkish relations had a big impact on the livelihood of the
Rum community. The editor of Iho also maintained that minorities have always
‘paid the price’ for international and domestic political tensions. As he put it, ‘Rum
in particular and non-Muslims in general have seriously been considered as the
enemy, throughout Republican history’ (Interview, 1st April 2005)149. The future of
Cyprus remains one of the major sensitive topics in Turkish politics, but Greek and
Turkish relations did improve after 1999 when both countries were hit by an
earthquake. The humanitarian support provided by each country eased diplomatic
relations and was labelled ‘seismic diplomacy.’
However, perhaps one of the most pressing problems and persistent taboos in public
political culture is the long-lasting and unresolved Armenian issue. As Kentel and
Erol (1997a) have reported, the Armenian community came under increasing
pressure during the 1990s due to comparisons made with the Kurdish problem in
domestic politics and international pressures to recognise the 1915 events as
‘genocide’. In this period, the differences between minority groups in the way they
relate to official ideology and policies became more distinctive, especially in the
way these differences were utilised in order to combat increasing international lobby
activities.
149
Dimitri Frangoplo is the retired headmaster of Zografiyon high school in Istanbul, and a very well
respected member of the community. Due to his age and position at the school he has been witness to
the changes that the Greek community has undergone throughout the years, the reasons for the waves
of emigration and their effect on the community - especially after 1955. He told me: ‘I am telling you,
due to this Cyprus [problem], when I got in a cab with my daughters when they were little, I used to
close their mouths with my hand so [if they spoke], nobody would understand we were Greek’.
According to him, the impact of the deportation of 12,000 Greek nationals (which amounted to
around 40,000 people including all the family members) as a counter measure to the escalating
Cyprus problem, was stronger than the impact of the 6-7th September events in 1955. The emigration
of the Rum community began slowly after 1955, but in his view, ‘the real blow’ to the survival and
livelihood of the community happened after the 1960s (Interview, 3rd February 2005).
190
As Rıfat Bali explained:
From 1989 to 1992, during the 500th anniversary [of Jewish presence in
Turkey], celebrations of the Jewish community were used as a benchmark in
order to countervail the Armenian lobby in America, which was pressing for
a resolution to be accepted that would recognise the genocide. The argument
was this: If Jews were being treated properly then the other groups cannot be
maltreated (Interview, 9th June 2004).
In March 1997, the incumbent interior minister, Meral Akşener, labelled Abdullah
Öcalan, the leader of the PKK, as ‘Armenian seed’ (Ermeni dölü). Though she later
declared that ‘she did not mean the Armenians living under the Turkish flag’, her
comments, according to Kentel and Erol (1997a: 79), exemplify how ‘Armenians
remained as a scapegoat’ within the official and nationalist discourse in Turkey150.
The use of minorities for political means, or as ‘tools for the indoctrination of public
opinion’ and ‘the construction of the other’ (Kentel and Hastaş, 1997b), has been
particularly well documented and observed in relation to Turkish minorities in
Greece and the Greek speaking population of Turkey (Özgüneş and Terzis, 2000;
LMV and KEMO Conference, 26th February 2005)151.
150
In 1998, the Armenian issue became extremely sensitive after the lower house of the French
parliament resolved to acknowledge the events of 1915 as ‘genocide’ (Kentel and Hastaş, 1998b:83).
In 2006, the French General Assembly passed a resolution that stipulated the offence ‘denial of
Armenian genocide’ (CnnTurk, 12th October 2006).
151
The notion that is invoked in relation to the Turkish and Rum minority in Greece and Turkey
respectively is called ‘reciprocity’, which in fact is a diplomatic notion to refer to the relationship
between the state and foreigner nationals living in a polity (Macar, 2005). Since Lausanne, this notion
has been inappropriately applied to the Rum in Turkey and the Turkish minority in Greece, who are
in fact citizens of their host countries. As Macar has explained, one of the victims of this practice has
been the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate, whose disputatious status was defined as a ‘domestic’ issue in
response to external criticisms. However, in practice, authorities treated it as a ‘Greek institution’.
According to Macar, this label has been applied informally since 1955 but was officially declared
during the Cyprus crisis in 1964-1965. As Macar has argued, since the end of the Cold War it has
been mentioned in military academy papers that the Patriarchate and the Theological School of Halki
(Heybeliada) should be used as a ‘trump card’ in the solution of political conflicts with Greece.
According to Macar, since the Europeanisation period began, the anti-European camp in Turkey have
‘made the issue of minorities and the Patriarchate to become a target for aggression’ in order to
pursue their policies challenging Turkey’s EU integration.
191
However, as the above events reveal, other groups in Turkey have also been used in
this way.
192
By referring to ‘seeming multiculturalism’ in Turkey, Dink’s comments seem to be
highlighting differences between the application and acceptance of ‘weak’ and
‘strong’ multicultural policies at the state level. Whilst the former policies refer to
accepting cultural diversity in the realm of the private sphere, the latter refer to its
acceptance and exercise in the public sphere and in public policy. Notwithstanding,
the public acceptance of diversity can also be considered as a two-way process that
can be enhanced through the active efforts of minority groups to combat prejudices,
negative representations and vilification. In fact, as the following discussion reveals,
the revitalisation of minority media outlets and the emergence of new institutions
indicate an active involvement of this kind.
The editor of the Jamanak newspaper, Ara Koçunyan, explained this process as
follows:
193
Indeed, the most visible efforts came from the Armenian community, which, by
establishing Aras (1993) and Agos (1996), began to participate in the public sphere
and to combat social prejudices.
In fact, the Armenian minority media is diverse and includes both similar and rival
elements in its media environment. The emergence of Aras publishing house in 1993
and Agos newspaper in 1996 can be seen as steps towards establishing new links
between the different levels of public sphere, communal and national. It also reflects
the transformation within the Armenian community in terms of the way it engaged
with the ‘big society’152.
As one of the editors, Payline Tovmasyan, maintained, the foundation of Aras ‘fitted
well with the political conjecture’ of the mid-1990s, when there was an accelerating
Kurdish insurgency on the one hand, but a growing interest in the co-habitation of
the heritage of different cultures on the other. As she further explained in our
interview:
We were late in opening up this publishing house; but it was never thought of
because such a thing would not even be imaginable… There was a shyness,
we in our own shell as a society, and I think we (felt) repressed due to the
oppressions… When (Aras) was first founded, there was the PKK, Kurdish
events and especially Margosyan’s book [referring to the first book they
published called The Gaivur District in Diyarbakir], these fitted well with
the conjecture. You know when at the time they said “what kind of a
mosaic?” 153 , the book was about that mosaic in Anatolia and that is why
people had a great interest (Interview, 13th January 2005).
152
‘Big society’ (büyük toplum) is how they describe Turkish society in general.
153
The term cultural mosaic became a buzzword in the 1990s to symbolise the diversity of cultures
within Turkey. Although it was not welcomed by the far right political parties when it was first
coined, it has been widely used in media and popular discourse in order to emphasise dialogue
between the different elements. In 2007 a book by Atilla Durak published by Metis project (Ebru:
Kulturel Cesitlilik uzerine Yansimalar- Ebru: Reflections on Cultural Diversity) preferred to
symbolise diversity by using a new concept, Ebru (marbled paper), a traditional art in Turkey. The
book was introduced on the publisher’s website as follows:
Over seven years in the making, Ebru is a sweeping and poignant photographic journey that
illuminates, through the faces of its people, the rich cultural diversity of Turkey.
The English translation of “ebru” is “marbled paper,” which refers to the fluidity of paint
194
Aras was initially founded to distribute translations of the Türkiyeli Armenian 154
writers, and this remains as its founding principle and its identity. However, due to a
lack of human resources, it has become very difficult to find people to make
accomplished translations from Armenian into Turkish. Aras has published 70 books
in a decade, and it is still is more like a voluntary or family business and can only
provide financial support for some of the editors, all of whom work there for ‘love’
and ‘to keep their culture alive’ (Interviews with Rober Koptaş and Payline
Tovmasyan, 13th January 2005).
Takuhi Tovmasyan, another editor at Aras, believed that ‘the things that could not be
articulated in the 1980s could now be pronounced now in newspapers and books’.
As she further explained: ‘For instance, none of our books have been confiscated.
The Armenians who live abroad, who have the old mentality, are getting surprised
when they read our books, and they ask us how are we able to write such things.
They can observe a change.’ Therefore for her, the launch of Aras in 1993 and Agos
in 1996 signify two ‘rupture’ points in the lives of Armenian community that helped
to construct ‘a bridge between the Turkish and Armenian societies’ (Interview, 13th
January 2005).
and water on paper. With its creative combination of water and paper, “ebru” inspires the
possibility of conceptualizing historical flow and “passing solidity” at the same time. As
such, it is a metaphor that offers a promising alternative to others like “the mosaic” or “the
quilt” for thinking through the new and old dilemmas of cultural politics at the turn of the
century. Attila Durak’s visual portraits are rendered even more dramatic through John
Berger’s foreword and interpretive essays from some of Turkey’s most discerning
contemporary writers. Because of this exceptional artistic pairing, Ebru provides rare insight
into the vibrant color, complexity, as well as political nuance, of a country defined and
sustained by its multicultural past and present.
(http://www.metiskitap.com/Scripts/Catalog/MetisBooks/1997.asp).
154
It is very difficult to use the term ‘Turkish-Armenian’ as easily as it is used in Western Europe and
America, in the sense of, for instance, ‘Italian-American’ or ‘British-Cypriot’. In my interviews, I
specifically asked my respondents about this issue, reminding them that I will be translating Türkiyeli
Ermeni (Armenian of/from Turkey) and asked them whether it would be possible to say Turkish-
Armenian. They reject this hyphenated version strictly, saying that they are not Turkish, because it
still reminds them an ethnic connotation. They see themselves as Turkish only in terms of citizenship.
This was also the case in my interviews with the Greek (Rum) respondents. The Jewish community,
because of their situation as the most integrated, pro-state community, use Türk Yahudileri (Turkish
Jews) or Türkiyeli Yahudiler (Jews of/from Turkey) and told me that they would introduce
themselves as Turks when they are abroad. This seems to be a very good example of the differences
between communities, and sensitivities around the notion of citizenship and national identity.
195
Agos has indeed become a pivotal point of reference for issues related to the
Armenian community. Hrant Dink completely distinguished Agos from the
rest of the community newspapers, which in his view have ‘historically
inscribed themselves with the aim to preserve the Armenian culture only by
preserving the language and never had any political mission to defend their
rights’. For Dink, the emergence of Agos symbolises ‘an uprising’ both
against the state and against what he calls ‘community bureaucracy’.
[Agos] emerged by saying that we can express intellectual our side by using
our Turkish, that we live in the big society in the best way possible... It
struggled with the state, by bringing to public attention the problems created
by the state, fought against the negativities found in the public opinion and in
the media, and defended its rights. Secondly, Agos completely opened its
community to the big society and struggled with the community bureaucracy,
which still wants to see this community only as a cemaat, as a religious
community. It struggled against the centralist understanding of the
Patriarchate. It also wanted civil society in this community to take action. It
also managed to stay economically independent. If you exist by the revenues
obtained by advertisements given by community institutions then you would
have to produce a paper that they would like.’ (Interview, 4th January 2005)
Hrant Dink believed that Agos helped the Armenian community to embrace its
identity not only by celebrating ‘its language and its church’, but by ‘owning’ its
history as well.
In establishing good links with the mainstream media and intellectuals, Agos seems
to be exercising the second function in the double role of minority media.
Furthermore, by challenging the established norms of community media, it seems to
be aiming to provide an ‘alternative’ or ‘citizens’ media. A consensus on the notion
of alternative media is as contested as for community media (Rodriguez, 2001). The
concept is usually used in relation to the ‘democratisation of communication’, which
prioritises citizens groups and grassroots efforts instead of the national mainstream
or big conglomerate media. Instead of alternative media, the term ‘citizens’ media’
was suggested by Rodriguez, which might help to explain the place of Agos within
mainstream and community media practices. Indeed, as Dink also maintained in our
interview, the news selection criteria for Agos prioritises developments that relate to
the ‘democratisation process in Turkey’.
196
During the course of my fieldwork there were attempts to establish a local Armenian
radio station. Although the Armenian community had the right to establish broadcast
media, the initiative began after the use of Kurdish language was granted for private
local radio and television stations. This may be construed as a tangible positive
impact of the Europeanisation process on the performance of non-Muslim minority
media in Turkey. In fact, the first attempts have begun when Ari Hergel, a young
Armenian university student, and Hayko Bağdat, a young half-Greek, half-Armenian
man, started making radio programs on minorities for a local station in Istanbul. The
birth of this program, which is aired by Yaşam Radio in Istanbul, coincided with the
beginning of the Europeanisation reform period. The show has been running for two
years (at the time of the interview) on a voluntary basis, and so does not provide
them with any income. This show is unique because, despite earlier attempts by
other Istanbul radio stations to publicise minority music and culture, this was the
first established programme to be produced by minority members themselves. Hence,
it can be considered as a strong signifier of the ‘normalisation’ of minority issues,
and a result of the positive atmosphere created during the Europeanisation period.
As Ari explained in our interview:
Our programme started as a minority programme that can encompass all the
minorities, but unfortunately it is now carrying on as an Armenian one. But
this has not been our choice. The other minorities, the Jews, Syriacs, Greeks,
they have a small population so there are very few people to participate in the
show. We did one or two Greek shows. The Jews are not very demanding to
be honest with you, because they do not consider themselves as a minority
like us or the other groups. They remain a bit on the outside (Interview, 28th
January 2005).
As mentioned previously, Jews are the most integrated community and do not
usually like to be considered as a minority group, which explains their reluctance to
get involved in such endeavours to bring minority cultures into the public realm.
Şalom perpetuates this general understanding in society by arguing that it is possible
to be both Jewish and Turkish (Barokas, Şalom, 26th December 2007). Nevertheless,
in recent years, the most significant change for the Jewish community media has
been the contacts they have established with mainstream media organisations. In this
197
way, it was possible for Şalom to be a point of reference for the community and it
created continuity between mainstream and minority media performance. The efforts
to establish links with the mainstream, and to increase the visibility of the
community in public culture, have also been made possible by other activities
organised by the cultural institutions of the Jewish community.
Tilda Levi, its editor-in-chief, admits that Şalom is not as political as Agos. But she
also draws attention to a change in the attitude of the Jewish community in order to
combat prejudices in public life. For instance, she explained to me that Şalom
campaigned for many years to use the word ‘Jewish’ (Yahudi) in Turkish as opposed
to Musevi (‘of Moses’ religion’), which is usually used in a politically correct way
to refer to Jews in Turkey, because ‘Yahudi’ had negative connotations. She also
maintained that the newspaper has become more proactive over the past couple of
years. It has established links with the mainstream media and organised activities to
help raise awareness of Jewish issues in the wider society. As Levi explained:
A couple of years back, we for the first time organised art events on a Jewish
day. Why did we feel the need for this? If you do not introduce yourself,
people either do not know you, or they know you partially. That is why we
have been attending the book-fairs for more than a decade. At the beginning
they were looking at us as if we were monkeys in a circus. The man on the
street does not know the difference between an Armenian, Greek or Jew. For
them, whoever is not Muslim is gavur [‘infidel’]… But who explained them
what? People [referring to minorities and possibly the Jewish minority in
specific] lived in fear, like a ghetto life, after the Varlık [Capital levy], with
the instinct to protect themselves, so there will be no problems and they can
live in peace. In this way, they did not even want to express themselves. But
in time this has changed. As a result of our social activities we have
established good relations with the wider press. I think this is a relaxation for
both parties. We also made a gentleman’s agreement with Agos when they
were first established, so we send Şalom to them and receive Agos. We also
know that if we need any information we know that there will be someone at
the other end of the line to answer to deal with our inquiries in the
198
mainstream media... We used to beg them to get pictures or information in
the past, but now this has changed.’ (Interview, 25th February 2005)155.
The activities organised by Şalom and other initiatives, like the establishment of the
Jewish museum and a cultural centre, also contributed to the community’s active
participation in public culture. The Jewish community established a cultural centre
for Sephardic Jewish studies in 2004, and transformed a synagogue into a Jewish
museum in 2001. Karen Gerson Şarhon is the head of the cultural centre, and has
been managing an oral history research project on the Jews of Turkey. Although she
wanted to launch the cultural centre back in the 1980s (during the 500th anniversary
celebrations) she believes that it was not given the green light because the ‘time was
not right’ (Interview, 25th February 2005). Although she has not articulated openly
in the interview herself, she seems to have referred to the community leadership.
The research centre is now involved in an international oral history project, and for
her this is of utmost importance for the Jewish heritage in Europe in general,
because Turkey’s non-involvement in Second World War created an ‘uninterrupted’
Jewish presence in Turkey compared to other parts of Europe.
In the case of Rum media, Mr. Rombopulos, the editor-in-chief of Iho, explained
that was a change in the content of his newspaper as a result of improvements in
Turkey’s foreign relations, with Greece in particular and the European Union in
general.
155
Non-Muslim minorities are themselves are historical rivals to each other in the way that they relate
to state bureaucracy and official discourses. During my fieldwork, Beyoğlu newspaper, a local paper
that was funded by a European project, organised a meeting with various minority journalists under
the title of ‘Cultures gaze at each other’. Some minority journalists such as Rober Haddeler admitted
that this was the first time they had met other minority journalists and editors.
199
news from the European Union and world news, is of great importance and
occupies a space in the newspaper. (Interview, 1st April 2005).
Mr Rombopulos maintained that the community could not establish a radio channel
because of financial difficulties, yet they had the right to do so as a result of
Lausanne provisions. For him, the Rum minority now does not need the Lausanne
Treaty anymore, provided that the legal changes introduced in the Europeanisation
reforms are implemented fully. This is because, in his view, the provisions offered
by the Europeanisation reforms are much higher than those in Lausanne and the
problems of minorities would be automatically resolved if the rights of all Turkish
citizens were addressed in general.
Conclusion
The relationship between media and ethnic minorities has been characterised by
‘continuity’, ‘conflict’ and ‘change’ (Horboken, 2004), and this also applies to the to
media of officially accepted minorities in Turkey. As mentioned at the beginning of
this chapter, media can never be solely an index of identity, yet it is a significant
component in the maintenance of cultural identity through its double role and
function. This double function is evident in its ability to mediate community life,
culture and traditions in the micro public sphere of the community, and in its efforts
to become a point of reference and a communication channel that can reach out to
mainstream media and the ‘bigger’ public sphere. Notwithstanding, it can be argued
that the extent to which it performs this double role depends, as Riggins (1992) has
stated, on a ‘system of variables’ consisting of issues such as the particular
characteristic of minority communities, their persecution or repression in public
culture and their relations to the international context. The analysis in this chapter
validates the significance of these variables in the Turkish setting.
The minority communities that have been discussed here have experienced
persecution and vilification due to a number of domestic and international tensions
throughout Turkish history, which usually led to their migration. The negative
effects of migration can be detected in both physical and symbolic decline in the
200
reproduction of community life. The diminishing minority population renders it
difficult to physically sustain community institutions such as associations,
foundations and schools. It also leads to a reduction in the human resources of the
community. In this regard, media outlets can assume an indispensable role and
function by compensating and providing support for community schools. These two
important institutions of cultural transmission are sustained through their mutual
support for each other. The lack of educated human capital creates a challenge for
these communities to transmit their cultural identity and heritage through the
preservation of their languages. Despite their low population, the Rum community is
by far the most successful example of best practice in this aspect.
Indeed, major attempts at ‘opening up’ and gaining visibility in the public realm can
be observed in both the Jewish and the Armenian communities through the active
appropriation of media and other community institutions. These two communities
historically have contradictory relationships to the state bureaucracy and official
discourses, and Şalom clearly differs from Agos in the ways in which they deal with
the status quo on a community and national level. Yet they are both actively using
community institutions to create awareness about their cultural heritage and identity.
201
Despite representing one of the oldest minority media practices in Europe, and
despite the limited scope of their audience, non-Muslim minority media in Turkey
are far from vanishing. In fact, non-Muslim minority media are adapting to
contemporary contexts, transforming their content, and enhancing their accessibility
and visibility. This transformation within the old minority media practices in Turkey
reflects the improvements in the ways in which minority issues and problems have
been acknowledged in Turkey. Therefore, the changes observed in minority media
outlets should be viewed within the wider globalisation and democratisation
processes affecting Turkey, rather than solely as a consequence of Europeanisation
reforms156. This study has found that the Europeanisation reforms did not have a
direct impact on the performance of minority media outlets, but minority media
professionals still consider these as a positive impetus in the democratisation of
Turkey over recent years. Therefore, the transformation of the old minority media
regime in Turkey reflects the cumulative impact of democratisation processes in
Turkey, which, as discussed in the previous chapter, have accelerated since the mid-
1990s. These transformations not only involved the active participation of the
communities themselves, but also their responses to wider processes of globalisation.
156
One exception is the legal changes that were introduced during the Europeanisation reforms with
regards to the bureaucratic problems minorities used to face about their foundations. The foundations
were not able to possess their own assets due to the legislation that was passed in 1935. The new law
was passed by parliament on 21st February 2008 but it has not eliminated the legal disputes and
difficulties. Oran (2008) has identified 4 main problem areas which are still left unresolved in the new
legislation. Firstly, those properties which were confiscated by the state since the 1960s can only be
returned after an application process at the European Court of Human Rights. Secondly, those
properties which were sold to third parties can not be returned to the foundations. Thirdly, the law
does not find a solution to the foundations which were acquired by the Foundations General
Directorate. Finally, the law only allows the non-Muslim foundations to establish foreign relations as
long as this is stated in their vakifname. This is a document that proves their establishment and the
ways in which they can buy or sell properties. However, most non-Muslim foundations do not posses
this type of documentation because historically most of them were established by a decree publicised
by the Sultan.
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Chapter 6
Europeanisation reforms and new practices for
broadcasting in different languages
Introduction
The previous chapter investigated recent changes in Turkey’s official minority
media regime and concluded that they were driven by a wider set of democratisation
processes, both global and endogenous, than simply those under the impetus of the
European Union. In contrast, however, this chapter focuses on precisely those
legislative and regulatory frameworks that have been introduced during the
Europeanisation reform period. The following discussion considers these to be the
most significant leverage on Turkey’s regulatory frameworks during this time,
especially those dealing with Kurdish cultural rights and the public
acknowledgement of Kurdish identity.
Hence, this chapter examines the processes and events between 2000 and 2006 that
led to the launch of Kurdish broadcasting on public and private television and radio.
This reform process has required major changes in legislation that have been
completed in three different stages. Firstly, constitutional amendments were
introduced in 2001 to lift the ban on the use of non-Turkish languages in the media.
Secondly, new laws - namely Law No. 4771 (stipulated in the 3rd Europeanisation
package in 2002) and Law No. 4928 (from the 6th harmonisation package enacted in
2003) - revised certain articles of the 3984 Broadcasting Act to allow the use of
ethnic languages in broadcasting. Finally, these legislative changes were put into
practice via two new directives from the Supreme Council of Broadcasting and
Television (RTÜK), which were intended to regulate the so called ‘broadcasts in the
different languages and dialects used traditionally by Turkish citizens in their daily
lives’. As a result of these legislative measures, broadcasting in Kurdish first began
nationally on TRT in June 2004, followed in March 2006 on local private TV and
radio channels in South-eastern cities - where the majority of population is Kurdish.
203
The main premise of this chapter is that the start of Kurdish language broadcasting
represents a dramatic transformation of the ‘market for loyalties’, as well as a
‘normalisation’ and a ‘shift’ in the way that Kurdish cultural identity is
acknowledged and accommodated in public life. Although there are no official
multicultural strategies in Turkey, apart from the provisions found in the Lausanne
Treaty that granted certain rights to non-Muslim communities, allowing
broadcasting in different languages can be seen as a step forward in the development
of a new engagement with cultural diversity.
However, this chapter also reveals that these regulatory frameworks have largely
resulted from a reluctant deference to external forces by the authorities and have
been executed via a series of legislative faits accomplis. The major external force
during this period has been the European Union. The conditions attached by the EU
to the start of membership negotiations, i.e. compliance with the Copenhagen
Criteria, have acted as a strong reform incentive for Turkey. Among its bureaucratic
elite, the application of these criteria has been portrayed as evidence either of the
EU’s enforcement’ of its agenda or of ‘giving concessions to the EU’. Both
perspectives see the EU as interfering with Turkey’s business, rather than promoting
human rights157.
This chapter goes beyond the rhetorical reactions to European influence to examine
the ways in which the tide of Europeanisation has been met by the specific obstacles
and opportunities of the Turkish context. Firstly, the military has been an active
counterpart in the preparation of the legislative reforms and their concern for
national security and the integrity of the state has left its mark on the new policies.
Secondly, public institutions have been caught up in the ensuing battle between
different political concerns and agendas, and the lack of autonomy in these
institutions (such as TRT and the broadcasting regulator RTÜK) has delayed the
157
See Bek-Gencel (2001) for an analysis of the media coverage of Helsinki Summit. The dilemmas
in the public domain as reflected in this article have been dominant throughout the Europeanisation
period.
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process of reform. Thirdly, the lack of a standard approach to ‘minority issues’
within the European Union, and the lack of standard practices in terms of ‘minority
broadcasting’, has allowed policies to be tailored to the specific circumstances in
Turkey, but has not necessarily eliminated disputes between Turkish authorities,
local television stations and the EU commission. In its analysis of these issues, this
chapter therefore reveals the ways in which Turkey’s national framework has been
proactive in its responses to transnational challenges, especially when they have
encroached on the core sensitivities in Turkish political culture.
The Turkish Republic, however, was established on the principles of a single ethnic
identity and single language, and the first constitution of 1924 stipulated Turkish as
its official language. Kurdish uprisings (discussed in Chapter 3) were heavily
suppressed and the media activities of the Kurds remained limited (Tan, 2007).
Although the 1960 constitution allowed a number of publications both in Kurdish
and Turkish they were frequently banned and their publishers and editors arrested
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(O’Neil, 2007). The revitalisation of the Kurdish press can be correlated with the
development of leftist movements in the 1970s but, in the aftermath of the 1980
military intervention, these publications either went underground or were published
abroad. Whilst the tradition of daily newspapers began in 1993, followed by the
foundation of Özgür Gündem and Azadiya Welat in 1996, the use of new
technologies such as satellite communications and the Internet have contributed to
the development of dozens of websites and online radio stations. The most
significant and controversial development in broadcasting was the launch of Med
TV in 1995, which was broadcast by satellite for the Kurdish diaspora (Topuz, 2003;
Tan, 2007)158.
Kurdish broadcasting was not allowed in the early 1990s because of national
security concerns. But the use of other languages in the media and education has
158
The establishment of MED TV for Kurds meant the ‘realization of their dream of sovereignty,
albeit in the sky’ (Hassanpour, 1995). MED TV started broadcasting in Britain in 1995 after obtaining
a 10-year license. The Turkish authorities have exerted pressure on foreign regulators to stop the
broadcast of MED TV because it is considered to have connections with the PKK. In Britain, the ITC
has issued warnings to Med TV on several occasions for breaches of rules on impartiality and its
license was revoked in 1999 (Feuilherade, 1999). Its successor, Roj TV, is now operating in Denmark
and Turkish authorities are lobbying to shut it down on the grounds that it is the mouthpiece of PPK
(Schleifer, 2006). The number of Kurdish satellite channels has increased to six since MED TV was
launched (http://www.worldlanguagestv.co.uk/ku-Kurdish/). For more on MED TV see Price (2002)
and Karim (1998).
206
since assumed a privileged place on the political agenda as Turkey’s accession
process to the EU has gained momentum. In the eyes of the EU, granting a ‘certain
form of cultural rights’ to the Kurds of Turkey was seen as one of the measures that
could offer a ‘civil’ solution to the Kurdish problem and was emphasised in the first
official EU Commission Annual Report on Turkey (EU Commission, 1998: 20). The
Annual Report of 1999 signalled for the first time that allowing broadcasting in
Kurdish could be one of the stepping-stones in this direction (EU Commission,
1999). However, the turning point was the Helsinki Summit in 1999, which thrust
the issues more forcefully onto Turkey’s political agenda.
After the summit, Foreign Affairs Minister Đsmail Cem and Deputy Prime Minister
Mesut Yılmaz both, on separate occasions, openly voiced the possibility, and even
necessity, of allowing the use of Kurdish language in education and TV and radio
broadcasts within the framework of cultural rights (see Hürriyet, 17th and 19th
December 1999). The EU commission welcomed these comments as the ‘first
interesting signal of the desire for reforms’ (EU Commission, cited in Hürriyet, 23rd
December 1999). However, they also marked the beginning of a long debate that
revealed the major cleavages between the pro-European and pro-change actors and
the Euro-sceptics within the establishment as well as within the delicately formed
coalition government itself. This became evident when Prime Minister Ecevit, on a
visit to Şırnak (a major Kurdish town where the PKK began its offensive against the
Turkish army back in 1984), stated that the government did not have a ‘proper plan’
for Kurdish broadcasting because ‘it was not desired by some’. The ambiguity of
this comment raised questions about ‘who holds political will in Turkey’ (F. Tınç,
Hürriyet, 30th September 2000).
From the onset of this debate, it was clear that the issue of Kurdish language
broadcasting did not only hinge on the consensus between the three-party coalition
of centre-left DSP, centre-right ANAP and extreme-nationalist MHP, but it also
involved the Turkish military bureaucracy as an active stakeholder.
207
The first bureaucratic ‘signal’ demonstrating that the reform process might be long
and controversial came from the General Secretary of the National Security Council
(NSC), army commander General Cumhur Asparuk. In February 2000, in an
interview with the Financial Times, the general was reported as saying that allowing
Kurdish broadcasters to use the Kurdish language would not happen in the short-
term and that giving permission for education in the Kurdish language would
‘destroy the mosaic of Turkish society’ (Hürriyet, 18th February 2000).
It has been debated whether this [Kurdish broadcasts] could degenerate the
unified structure…The only concern of the TAF [Turkish Armed Forces] is
the unity of state and national unity. This is the basis of our existence. It is
not possible for us to be divided. We cannot let this happen as long as we are
alive. (Cited in Hürriyet, 15th November 2000)
The leader of ANAP, Mesut Yılmaz, who was also the Deputy Prime Minister
responsible for coordinating EU affairs at the time, addressed this question as
follows:
A majority of our citizens are watching the broadcasting organ of the divisive
organisation. If we as the state are happy about it, let us carry on. If we are
not, then we should meet the needs of [those] who are not segregationist,
divisive but they simply cannot follow the world because they do not know
Turkish. As the state you need to use your logic. You must produce those
broadcast policies in order to attract those citizens so you can keep your
unity and your values. You have no other choice…if those people living in
Şırnak do not speak Turkish and it makes them a target for those trying to
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spread their poison, then the cure is… to embrace and protect those people.
(G. Mengi, Hürriyet, 15th November 2000)
Whilst ANAP represented the more liberal and pro-European wing within the
coalition, its extreme nationalist counterpart, MHP, regarded demands for Kurdish
TV in Turkey as ‘nothing else but treason’ (Hürriyet, 17th November 2000). The
MHP leader and Deputy Prime Minister, Devlet Bahçeli, described Kurdish TV as a
demand for ‘minority rights’, and the minister of transportation, Enis Öksüz, argued
that the ‘[Kurds] will ask for TV now and the next day they will ask for an
independent state’ (C. Dündar, Sabah, 15th November 2000).
If they look at the region closely they will understand that the policies
implemented now are actually bread and butter for those who want a separate
state. Because 80% of the region’s population is illiterate and a majority of
them exercise their right to watch broadcasts in their language - something
that the state does not recognise - from trans-frontier broadcasts. These
broadcasts usually bear the signature of the PKK or Barzani… For a while in
Turkey it was forbidden to even discuss such issues. Özal received a lot of
reaction when he first mentioned Kurdish TV. But if we could have
discussed these things on time, maybe today it would not be perceived as if
‘we are compromising to Europe or to terror’. Now ‘the right to broadcast’
comes on the agenda in the framework of EU membership and the AP
(Accession Partnership) and that is how they are being discussed. MHP has
to understand that these prohibiting policies help only the propaganda by the
PKK… (C. Dündar, Sabah, 15th November 2000).
What might be considered a ‘visa’ for Kurdish broadcasting came at the end of 2000
when the head of the Constitutional court announced that local/regional Kurdish
broadcasts might not be against the constitution, and possibilities for a limited
broadcast on limited outlets might be considered so that ‘[Kurds] can experience
their own culture’ (Hürriyet, 1st December 2000).
209
In 2001, the EU Commission prepared an Accession Partnership document as part of
the pre-accession procedures. The document was formally adopted by the
Commission on 8th March 2001 and envisaged short-term and medium term
legislative, structural and political changes. Short-term objectives were expected to
be delivered before the end of 2001 and included issues like strengthening freedom
of expression and bringing it into line with Article 10 of the European convention of
human rights, fighting against torture, legal arrangements towards the abolishment
of the death penalty, and removing ‘any legal provisions forbidding the use by
Turkish citizens of their mother tongue in TV/radio broadcasts’ (European Council,
2001).
In response to this document, Turkish government adopted its 1000 page National
Programme for the Adoption of the EU acquis159, on 19th March 2001. Dubbed as
the ‘road map of Turkey’ towards the European Union, Foreign Minister Đsmail Cem
hailed the program as the ‘the most comprehensive and ambitious democratisation
program in the history of the Republic of Turkey’. The National program envisaged,
over the next five years, a total of 94 changes in existing legislation, and the
enactment of 89 new laws. According to the program this could mean a total number
of 4,000 changes in the administrative structure of the Turkish state (M. Demir,
Hürriyet, 21st March 2001).
159
Formally known as Acquis communautaire, the ‘acquis’ is defined with the following features on
the website of the Delegation of the EU Commission in Turkey: ‘[It] includes all the EU's treaties and
laws, declarations and resolutions, international agreements on EU affairs and the judgments given by
the Court of Justice. It also includes action that EU governments take together in the area of "justice
and home affairs" and on the Common Foreign and Security Policy. "Accepting the acquis" therefore,
means taking the EU as you find it. Candidate countries have to accept the "acquis" before they can
join the EU, and make EU law part of their own national legislation’
(http://www.avrupa.info.tr/Bilgi_Kaynaklari/Terimler_Sozlugu.html)
210
Short-Term Reform Measures: Constitutional amendments and new
laws in the first harmonisation package
For the bureaucrats, the most challenging objectives to be met in the National
Program in the short-term were the issues of education and broadcasting in the
Kurdish language (Hürriyet, 15th January 2001). For the short-term objectives to be
achieved by March 2002, constitutional amendments were required. The
Constitution Commission of the General Assembly drafted a proposal that was
comprised of amendments to be made in 37 articles of the 1982 constitution. It
included areas such as the expansion of individual rights and liberties, freedom of
thought, and limitations on capital punishment as well as civilianising the National
Security Council (NSC) and scrapping its authoritative power over the decisions
taken by national governments. The proposed amendments were considered to be
Turkey’s ‘first civil constitution’ (S. Korkmaz, Hürriyet, 20th September 2001).
The first obstacle for ‘Kurdish broadcasting’ was in Article 26 and Article 28 of the
constitution, which pertained to ‘freedom of expression and dissemination of
thought’ and ‘press freedom’ respectively. Article 26 stipulated that ‘No language
prohibited by law shall be used in the expression and dissemination of thought’.
Additionally, Article 28 stated that ‘Publications shall not be made in any language
prohibited by law’. These two statements have been deleted from the text of the
constitution in the relevant articles in order to bring it into line with Article 9 and
Article 10 of the ECHR, which stipulated ‘freedom of thought’ and ‘freedom of
expression’(ABGS, 2001: 5). These amendments were accepted under the name Law
No. 4709, Law on Amending Certain Articles of the Constitution of the Turkish
Republic on 3rd October 2001 by the General Assembly (TBMM, 2001) as a part of
the first reforms in the Europeanisation period.
These amendments lifted the ban on Kurdish and constituted Turkey’s first steps
towards the introduction of broadcasts in different languages, and were welcomed by
the European Commission. However, as its annual regular report has highlighted,
there existed some discrepancies between the constitution and the No. 3984
broadcasting law. This law, which is also known as the RTÜK law, stated that TV
211
and Radio broadcasts will be in Turkish ‘with an exception for languages that will
contribute to the development of a universal culture and science’ (EU Commission,
2001: 28). As Sedat Ergin pointed out in his column, ‘because Kurdish is not
considered as a language which contributes to universal culture and science,
according to RTÜK law it is still prohibited’, also arguing that a failure to amend
certain articles in this law might cause a serious blockage in EU-Turkish relations
(Hürriyet, 25th December 2001). Therefore, the next challenge in the introduction of
Kurdish broadcasts was to make the RTÜK law congruent with the Constitutional
changes.
160
The hesitations over lifting the death penalty, which had not been exercised since 1984, centred
around Abdullah Ocalan’s case. Ocalan, the leader of PKK, had been in prison since 1999 when he
was given the death sentence. The worries revolved around whether lifting the penalty might mean
that Ocalan would be free after serving 10 years in prison.
212
Following the regular NSC meeting at the end of March 2002, the military declared
that it would not object to ‘controlled and limited’ broadcasts. Although the army
did not agree with education in the Kurdish language, this move was considered to
be a ‘green light for Kurdish’ from the armed forces (K. Yurteri, Hürriyet, 8th April
2002). In the eyes of veteran journalist Mehmet Ali Birand, this statement was an
‘indication that Turkey had crossed another important psychological threshold’:
In this way, the Turkish Republic has shown that it has got rid of its
complexes about Kurdish and that its self-confidence has risen. Until today
we could not accept Kurdish. We could not decide whether Kurdish speakers
would be friend or foe if the broadcasts were permitted. We were divided
into two. Some would get scared whenever they would see the word
‘Kurdish’ and perceive it as a threat to the unity of the country. Others
viewed being Kurdish and speaking Kurdish as natural rights and believed
that, if the prohibitions continued, we would be facing more reactions in the
long run. Society was confused, people were perplexed… In the period of
12th September [1980], being Kurdish was almost a crime. Children could
not be named, Kurdish songs could not be heard, the names of villages had to
be changed. What happened? The Kurdish problem did not stop. On the
contrary, it accelerated. In the Özal period, Kurdish speaking and listening to
music was allowed. What happened? The Kurdish problem did not get bigger.
Now you will see Kurdish broadcasts will be permitted and Turkey will not
be divided.’(M.A. Birand, Hürriyet, 9th April 2002)
Despite the army’s ‘green light’, the deteriorating health of Prime Minister Ecevit,
and the deadlock within the coalition parties, prevented the government from taking
effective steps to implement the medium term measures. The deadlock over the
enactment of the 3rd harmonisation package was resolved as a result of a number of
‘leaders summits’ organised by President Sezer in order to ensure a consensus
213
among the parties. The government decided to take the issues of broadcasting and
education in Kurdish and the death penalty to the next NSC meeting on the 30th May
2002. The meeting took place without the presence of the PM and Deputy PM
Devlet Bahçeli and concluded that ‘for the well being of the country’ the necessary
laws should be enacted before the General Assembly went into vacation. It was
therefore agreed that there could be limited TV broadcasts on TRT in Kurdish
(Sabah, 31st May 2002).
The months leading up to the agreements over the 3rd harmonisation package were
quite tense periods within the government. As a result of the leaders’ summits, a
consensus on Kurdish broadcasting and lifting the death penalty was secured
between coalition partners DSP, ANAP and the opposition parties AKP and SP,
despite MHP’s threats to leave the government (T. Yılmaz, Hürriyet, 8th June 2002).
Additionally, RTÜK organised ‘state coordination meetings’ with bureaucrats from
various state departments in order to reach a consensus on the Kurdish broadcasting
bill. At the beginning of July, MHP declared that the party would not vote in favour
of the package but, if enough votes were secured in the General Assembly, it would
not block the process (Hürriyet, 17th July 2002)
The General Assembly met on the 2nd of August and, despite strict opposition from
MHP, the Parliament passed the 3rd harmonisation package the following morning
after a marathon of 22 hours in session. The package lifted the death penalty and
allowed the use of one’s ‘mother-tongue’, thus paving the way for broadcasting in
Kurdish (see Hürriyet 2nd August 2002 and N. Babacan and S. Korkmaz, Hürriyet,
4th August 2002). The new law, No. 4771, was in use by the 8th of August and it
included amendments in many laws including Article 4 of Law No. 3984 on radio
and television institutions in order to allow broadcasting in ‘ different languages and
dialects that are used by Turkish citizens in their daily lives’ (TBMM, 2002). The
legislative changes were completed before the EU Commission’s regular report on
Turkey’s progression in October and the crucial Copenhagen Summit in December
2002. RTÜK began to prepare a directive immediately after the reform package was
implemented.
214
In November 2002, just before the Copenhagen Summit, national elections were
held in Turkey. The outcome was a strong single-party government, the AKP
(Justice and Development Party), which was associated with an Islamist policy
agenda through an organic link between its members and those of its predecessors –
the RP and FP. The new structure eliminated some of the major old centre-right
parties such as ANAP, DYP and the nationalist MHP from the political scene, and
practically ended an era of coalition governments. As Kemal Kirişçi (2003) stated at
the Copenhagen Summit, the AKP was committed to European membership and,
after coming into power, its members began a series of trips to the USA and major
cities in Europe, lobbying and trying to establish support for Turkey’s aim to secure
a date to commence negotiations with the European Union.
215
languages could be used in these broadcasts and demanded the completion of an
audience survey to identify the most extensively used dialects and languages.
The configuration of the directive reflected the ways in which the use of languages
other than Turkish in broadcast media is seen as risky, ideological and controversial
by the authorities. As Zakir Avşar, the then deputy director of RTÜK (who was one
of the key figures in the preparation of the directive), explained:
Indeed, concerns over terrorism, which highlight issues of ‘national security’, were
incorporated into Article 8, which organised the sanctions as follows:
Broadcasts cannot be against the rule of law, general rules of the constitution,
basic rights and liberties, national security, general morals, the basic
principals of the Republic as stated in the constitution, indivisibility of the
state with its country and people, 3984 law and its directives, responsibilities
envisaged by the High Council and they must be done according to the
requirements of public service broadcasting’ (RTÜK, 2002).
Considering the lack of autonomy of TRT as a public service broadcaster (see the
discussion in Chapter 4), its selection as the only outlet allowed to deliver such
transmissions seems to reflect the Turkish authorities’ efforts to maintain some sort
of control over the style and the content of broadcasting161. However, singling out
161
As previously discussed, until the break up of monopoly over broadcasting, TRT remained as the
principal facilitator of national identity. After the military intervention in 1971, TRT was not only
linked to the government financially and administratively but also by a new set of principals and
duties defined in the constitution. As Kejanlıoğlu (2004:184) has indicated, the new duties included
assisting in education and culture and required upholding the following general principles in news
216
TRT as the only outlet for broadcasts in ‘different languages’ has led to a legal battle
and impasse between RTÜK and TRT over TRT’s legal role. In February 2003, TRT
secretly opened a court case against RTÜK in order to suspend the implementation
of the new directive on the grounds that it conflicted with its autonomy. The conflict
stemmed from the different laws regulating TRT and the Supreme Council (See
Radikal, 16th June 2003 and 3rd July 2003). Although RTÜK is the principal
regulatory body for the broadcasting realm, it is not authorised to regulate TRT
transmissions.
Latif Okul, who is the head of the TRT Regulation Committee, explained the
reasons behind TRT’s reluctance to accept its new broadcasting mission as follows:
For some journalists, the dilemma between the two top public institutions
responsible for implementing the new legislative measures seemed to be more than a
legal dispute, it reflected their genuine objection to the introduction of broadcasting
in Kurdish (Hürriyet, 27th May 2004). Although the directors of these institutions
have dismissed these claims, some officers in RTÜK believe that the dispute over
the finalisation of the directives might have been used as a ‘tactic to delay’ the
initiation of broadcasting in Kurdish. Because, as Bora Sönmez points out, even the
and other programs: ‘Commitment to the unity of the State; to the national democratic, secular and
social Republic which is based on respect for human rights; to general moral values; and to accuracy
in news provision.’ Since then, these still remain as part of TRT’s general principals, exemplifying
the pressures from the general political culture on the realm of broadcasting.
217
provisions in the first directive would have been sufficient to allow private media
outlets to make transmissions (Interview, 11th January 2007). The conflict between
RTÜK and TRT was only resolved after a second directive was put into practice in
July 2003, as is discussed in the next section.
The most important motive behind the preparation of the legislative and regulatory
framework has been to meet the deadline for delivering the ‘short and medium term
measures’, which were the prerequisites for obtaining a positive decision to open EU
membership negotiations. Indeed the most pressing short and medium term priorities
were completed in 2002 before the publication of the EU’s annual report and the
crucial Copenhagen summit of the European Council on 12-13th December 2002. In
its report, the EU Commission welcomed the ‘noticeable progress towards meeting
political criteria’ but concluded that Turkey ‘does not fully meet the Copenhagen
Criteria’ (EU Commission, 2002: 46-47).
162
See Kirişçi (2003) for an analysis of the 12-13th December 2002 Copenhagen summit..
218
2003). Contrary to these concerns, Turkey has been able to meet the Copenhagen
criteria and has officially begun membership talks in October 2005, however as the
following discussion demonstrate this has been a very lengthy process and the ways
in which new legislative measures are implemented continue to be a matter of
dispute between Turkey and the European Union.
Following the Copenhagen summit, there were still areas that required improvement
in human rights. These involved amending the No. 3984 RTÜK law in order to allow
Kurdish broadcasting on private television and radio channels, as well as addressing
other areas in a 6th harmonisation package (Hürriyet, 28th April 2003 and 22nd May
2003).
However, the enactment of the 6th harmonisation package has revealed the
contradicting approaches of the government and the military to the issue of cultural
rights in general, and access to media in particular. The Chief of Staff, General
Hilmi Özkök, ‘informed’ Prime Minister Erdoğan about the military’s ‘reservations’
with regards to the amendments in Kurdish broadcasting and identified TRT as their
‘preferred media outlet’. Prime Minister Erdoğan’s response was to ‘further discuss’
the issue at an NSC meeting at the end of May 2003 (Y. Doğan, Hürriyet, 22nd May
2003). However, the government took a bold stance over its plans to enact the 6th
harmonisation package and sent it to the General Assembly before the monthly
regular NSC meeting, which was scheduled for the 26th of June (T. Yılmaz,
Hürriyet, 9th June 2003). This move was radically different from previous
procedures in which the content of harmonisation laws was first discussed in the
NSC in order for the military and civil bureaucracy to reach a consensus before it
was debated in the General Assembly. However, the 6th harmonisation package was
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already included in the Government’s plans before June’s NSC meeting (Y. Doğan,
Hürriyet, 23rd May 2003)163.
Before the meeting, the General Secretariat of the NSC stated in an official letter
that it objected to three articles in the proposed package, one of which permitted
Kurdish broadcasting on commercial media outlets. For some commentators this
signalled ‘an army veto to the EU’ because, unless the legislative amendments in
this package were delivered, it would not be possible to secure a date from the EU
for the start of negotiations (Y. Doğan, Hürriyet, 30th May 2003). Furthermore, the
military’s reservations about the 6th package raised concerns as to whether this
would mean a ‘total rejection’ of the European project as a whole (A.M. Birand,
Hürriyet, 31st May 2003).
The reaction of the military to the use of Kurdish on private channels reflects the
two predominant attitudes towards Europeanisation in this period: a general
reluctance found in bureaucratic institutions and the perception held by Turkish
authorities that the harmonisation reforms amounted to ‘giving concessions’ to the
European Union. Murat Yetkin, an established political journalist, has addressed this
attitude in his column by referring to a statement made by an army general serving
as second secretary of the Chief of Staff. The general was quoted as saying the
following:
Look at the Accession Partnership document with the EU. It does not
mention private radio and television. Why do we have the tendency to
deliver more [to the EU] when our security concerns are still there?… Let us
do what is necessary, but why should we volunteer for situations which
might put us in trouble? (M. Yetkin, Radikal, 31st May 2003)164
163
Veteran journalist Mehmet Ali Birand observed that the 6th harmonisation package had almost
turned into a ‘wrestling match’ between the army and the government because, if the government did
not accept the changes in the package, it would be regarded as a ‘submission’ to the ‘superiority of
the army over civilian rule’ both domestically and in the eyes of the European Union (M. A. Birand,
Hürriyet, 4th June 2003).
164
The comments of the general are significant considering the ambiguity over the minimum
standards for minority media provisions applying to European Union member states. In chapter 2,
where I considered different approaches to the study of the minority media, I have highlighted the
220
According to Yetkin, this did not mean the army was ‘dismissing’ the EU project
altogether, but they were ‘reluctant’. This reluctance stemmed from the concern that
it would be difficult to effectively regulate those transmissions that might include
divisive and separatist propaganda (S. Ergin, Hürriyet, 6th June 2003).
Nonetheless, the package was sent to the General Assembly before the NSC meeting
and was accepted by the Assembly on the 19th of June165. The package was enacted
just before an EU summit in Salonica on the 20th of June, where a new draft proposal
of the new National Program was to be revised. The newly revised National Program,
which was announced later on the 25th of July, pledged to fulfil all the political
criteria before the end of 2004 and the economic criteria before the end of 2005.
The new harmonisation laws amended the disputed Article 4 of the No. 3894
broadcast law and allowed both private and public radio and televisions stations to
undertake broadcasts ‘in languages and dialects used by Turkish citizens
traditionally in their daily lives’. The amendment also required a new directive to be
prepared by RTÜK within four months. The legal conflict between RTÜK and TRT
was resolved within two weeks of the enactment of the 6th harmonisation package.
The 2nd directive was completed within the 4-month period after consultations with
state institutions such as the General Staff’s office, the NSC General Secretariat and
the General Directorate for Security. According to the head of RTÜK, Fatih Karaca,
the new directive was designed in such a way that that it has provided ‘liberties that
can not be found in European Union countries’ (Hürriyet, 18th November 2003).
problems arising from the ambiguity within the European Charter Regional and Minority Languages,
which attempts to offer guidelines for minority culture provisions and their protection yet does not
quantify minimum requirements (Cormack, 2005). As previously mentioned, Article 11 of the Charter
stipulates the establishment of one radio station, one TV channel and one newspaper in the minority
of regional languages by the public authorities, or the facilitation and support of these media outlets
where possible. Although Turkey has not signed the Charter and is not bound by its stipulations, the
lack of standards and the existence of diverse practices in Europe reinforced the military’s reluctant
approach to addressing the issue of cultural rights.
165
The powers and the structure of the NSC were revised in the 7th Harmonisation package in July
2003. In August 2004, a civilian secretary was appointed to the Council. As Bac-Muftuler has stated,
although these revisions transformed NSC into a consultancy body, the power of the military in
Turkish politics not only stems from institutions but also from the fact that it remains the most
respected and trusted body in Turkey (Müftüler-Baç, 2005).
221
It came into effect on 24th January 2004 under the title of Directive on Radio and
Television Broadcasts to be Made in Different Languages and Dialects Traditionally
Used by Turkish citizens in their Daily Lives 166 (RTÜK, 2004). The directive
initially allowed only national public and private broadcasts and left the local
stations outside of its provisions in a temporary article. Accordingly, until an
audience profile was completed, minority languages were only broadcast on national
private and public stations. The directive provisioned the council to prepare the
audience profile. It allowed news and music programs, and programs that introduce
the local culture, as long as these programs target the adult population. It prohibited
educational broadcasts, and the transmission of cartoon programs for children in
these languages. The regulations on subtitles and the scheduling of the programs
remained unchanged and it has charged RTÜK with the sole authority to grant
licenses to broadcasting outlets in different languages. It also reinforced the 1st
directive which stipulated that broadcasts in traditionally used languages cannot be
against the rule of law, national security, general morals, the qualities of the
Republic as set in the constitution, the indivisibility of the state with its country and
nation, the 3984 RTÜK act, and the directives based on this act (Hürriyet, 25th
January 2004).
The military’s concerns over monitoring and regulating these broadcasts have also
been relevant to RTÜK as it is the main regulatory and monitoring body. Aside from
the over arching ‘national security’ concerns in the state bureaucracy, the problems
with RTÜK’s technical infrastructure could explain the ways in which the directives
are configured and may explain the constraints on RTÜK to deliver this function. As
RTÜK expert Bora Sönmez explained, RTÜK audits and records the broadcasts of
all the 25 national and 15 regional channels. There are around 230 local channels
166
Before its approval two more amendments have been made in the directive. Firstly its title was
changed from ‘The Directive on the Language of Broadcasts’, to ‘The Directive on Radio and
Television Broadcasts to be made in Different Languages and Dialects Traditionally Used by Turkish
Citizens in their Daily Lives’. Secondly the clause ‘broadcasting organisations are obliged not to use
any symbol, sign and voice in the studio design and the audio effects, except the ones that have been
symbols of the Turkish Republic’ was replaced with the statement ‘[they] are obliged not to include
symbols that consist of a criminal element’
222
and it is impossible to audit and record all these outlets within the current system
(Interview, 11th January 2007).
Another technical problem emanated from the lack of personnel who could speak the
traditional languages and whose expertise in these languages can be objectively
validated. Zakir Avşar, the former Deputy Head of RTÜK, explained that, although
Arabic language departments exist in higher education institutions in Turkey, there
are none to cater for the Kurdish language. Furthermore, dialect differences in
Kurdish have also been a challenge for RTÜK’s attempts to find a standard Kurdish
to be used on public television (Interview, 10th January 2007). RTÜK still lacks
personnel in its regional branches, especially in densely Kurdish populated areas
such as Diyarbakır and Van. Avşar claims that despite earlier attempts to employ
new staff this had not been possible.
The lack of Kurdish speaking personnel has been redressed by making the use of
subtitles and translations compulsory in transmissions. Bora Sönmez, who had been
involved in the preparations from the beginning, explained the process as follows:
There is a general consensus among the Turkish authorities that the current
framework represents one of the best practices in Europe. However, this needs to be
set against the previous discussion on the lack of standard provisions for minority
media in Europe. The weak sanctioning power of international instruments seems to
167
This issue of subtitles still continues to be a source of conflict between the Supreme Council,
European Commission and the local televisions. The policy makers in the international relations
office of RTÜK disagree with the criticisms. They hold the view that what they delivered in the
directives was one of the most liberal policies on the use of different languages amongst all the other
European Union member states.
223
allow national authorities to deliver basic implementations in order to meet the
minimum requirements. However, this dilemma is also related to the ‘prevailing
ideology of the state’ and its ‘multicultural strategies’ (Riggins, 1992).
The changing jargon during the preparation of the directives in this regard is worthy
of close attention. In a survey of the newspaper articles in Hürriyet newspaper until
the 3rd harmonisation package in 2002, ‘Kurdish broadcasting’ was the only
terminology used to describe the possible policies in the initial stages of the debates.
Other terms, such as ‘broadcasts in mother tongue’ ‘broadcasts in traditional
languages’, ‘broadcasts in different languages’ were used interchangeably by the
bureaucrats, until the directive was finally given the title of ‘different languages and
dialects used traditionally by Turkish citizens in daily life’ in 2004.
168
For a detailed discussion see Cormack (2007) as previously addressed in Chapter 2.
224
broadening their meaning.’ (2005: 469). Hence, it can be argued that the wording of
both directives reflected a prevailing set of attitudes that did not consider these
issues as important steps towards expanding cultural rights or the genuine
recognition of different ethnicities and languages. Rather, the acknowledgement of
these differences was downplayed through the ambiguous tone and terminology of
the texts.
In May 2004, the government announced that the provisions in the TRT law did not
constitute an obstacle to implementation and permitted TRT to begin the broadcasts
(U. Ergan, Hürriyet, 24th May 2004; Hürriyet, 27th May 2004). Following this
announcement the obstacles in the TRT law were finally eliminated at a meeting of
the executive board, where a unanimous agreement was reached to proceed with
broadcasting in different languages.
The obligatory audience survey has never been completed and TRT reluctantly
undertook the responsibility to start broadcasts six months after the 2nd directive was
put into effect. The reluctance of TRT and its fears to be misunderstood were
evident in the comments of its general director when he announced the executive
decision in a press conference:
For all of us who take pride in being Turkish - the supra-identity - our
common language is the official language Turkish. Undoubtedly, all the
people of this country desire to develop the peaceful and tolerant
environment to strengthen our democracy and protect our national unity and
integrity. As TRT we have this consciousness. Our uncompromising loyalty
to the nation state is not against the plural democracy and it will never be. In
225
our executive meeting today, we have reached an agreement to start
preparing the infrastructure in order to begin broadcasts that reflect the
languages and dialects of our sub-cultures’ (Hürriyet, 26th May 2004)
Overall, the process that began with the first constitutional changes in 2001 has
taken three years to implement. Transmitting broadcasts in ethnic languages has
been a ‘burden’ for TRT in the eyes of Latif Okul, who is the head of the auditing
section in TRT. But, as he stated, this burden was nevertheless laid on the shoulders
of TRT because the government wanted to give a strong message to the EU about its
commitment to implement the reforms before the end of 2004. Furthermore, the pre-
existing internal auditing and regulation mechanism of TRT was a factor behind the
selection of TRT as the ‘safe’ broadcaster. It provided a temporary solution to the
problems of monitoring due to the existing limitations of RTÜK’s infrastructure.
Experts in RTÜK identified the reasons for delay in the implementation process as
follows:
The delay was due to a number of reasons. First of all, a group of officers
within the High Council reacted to this process. Also, the usual institutions in
the country were reactionary [read ‘the army’ - my emphasis]. These
concerns were due to divisive broadcasts. But we explained to all the
institutions in the state bureaucracy that the political criteria was the sine qua
non condition of the European Union…With regards to the audience profile,
to be perfectly honest with you it was shelved without implementation. This
was required by some institutions and it was only put forward to delay the
process and it did, and saved time for a couple of years.’ (Interview, Bora
Sönmez, 11th January 2007)
Despite the fact that the directive came into effect six months prior to the start of
broadcasts, due to its reluctance, TRT was technically unprepared for making these
226
transmissions. TRT had been forced to take on the responsibility by bureaucratic
pressure to fulfil the EU’s political criteria. The producer of the programs ‘Our
Cultural Richness’ has explained that he was asked to take on this role and
responsibility on the afternoon of Friday 4th of June, less than three days before the
proscribed transmission time, because it was under the ‘enforcement’ of the
European Union. As he put it:
The first broadcast started with Bosnian on Monday the 7th of June 2004 and
included a news summary called ‘From the country and the world’, followed by
songs in Bosnian, sports news, and two short documentaries called ‘From Blue to
Green’ and ‘Beauties of Anatolia’ (Hürriyet, 7th June 2004). Kurdish, the most
controversial of the broadcasts, was aired for the first time on the 9th of June in the
Kırmançi dialect, which also coincided with the release of four former DEP
(Democratic People’s Party) deputies who had been in prison for 10 years (Hürriyet,
10th June 2004). The following day, newspaper columns were filled with reflections
about the shift from ‘denial’ of the Kurdish language, and Kurds as a group, to the
‘acknowledgment’ of this identity on public television (H. Uluengin, Hürriyet, 10th
June 2004).
The pro-Kurdish political party DEHAP and the Kurdish Institute of Istanbul
welcomed the Kurdish broadcast on the state television. DEHAP which also made a
plea to PKK/Kongragel for a ceasefire after the release of former DEP MPs,
227
suggested that the broadcasts ‘signalled a change in the more than a century of
denial [of Kurdish identity] policy (Hürriyet, 13th June 2004)169.
Nevertheless, the first broadcast in Kurdish on TRT was an important symbol that
transmissions in these languages would not ‘divide’ Turkey and, as many observed,
it represented a ‘historical era’ in which Turkey’s approach to Kurdish problem was
changing. As Mehmet Ali Birand explained:
169
The repeated announcements by PKK/Kongragel in late May and early June 2004 to end cease-fire
which was in place since 1999 fuelled the concerns on the true intentions of the of the organisation to
transform itself from an armed guerrilla movement into a political party. For instance, Birand
(Hürriyet, 3rd June 2004) and Berberoğlu (Hürriyet, 30th May 2004) cautioned for the detrimental
effects of a renewed armed struggle on the reform process in Turkey which, for the last three years
have taken significant steps in the recognition and salvage of the Kurdish problem.
228
We need to know that this change in Turkey is not coincidental. We came to
this point after a long process and after important transformations in the
society and domestic and external dynamics. If today education in Kurdish
has begun, the DEP MPs can be tried without being held under custody, we
can discuss all the aspects of the Kurdish problem on the television screens,
this due to the fact that Turkey made a strategic change in its approach to the
Kurdish problem…We can understand how revolutionary this is for Turkey
(M. A. Birand, Hürriyet, 11th June 2004)
Even though the limited broadcasts were welcomed as an unprecedented shift in the
recognition of Kurdish identity, the content and quality of the programs has been a
matter of criticism. In the first week, the news bulletins were been updated from
Monday to Friday; the same news was merely translated into different dialects.
Furthermore, the content of the documentary section in the most controversial
language, Kurdish, perplexed some journalists because it was a documentary about a
botanist who lived in the 18th century. As Atkaya stated:
The limited content of the programs in the first week can be explained by the fact
that the TRT authorities were forced to start these transmissions within three days
and they lacked the necessary infrastructure, especially with regards to the content of
the programs in Kurdish. As its producer explained, these programs are created with
a small team that comprises himself as the only producer for television, two
producers for radio, and staff responsible for translations. However, as the
completion of the directives was in the making for two years, the TRT authorities
had ample time to take the necessary steps to recruit relevant personnel and start
preparations. The reasons for this delay can again be understood in the light of
TRT’s autonomy. As Latif Okul expressed, government influence over TRT
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unfortunately indicates the problems that still exist in Turkey’s audio-visual policies.
As he explained further:
There are still problems in the RTÜK law, some arrangements are still
against the constitution and we have not reached the EU standards. The issue
of autonomy and impartiality of public institutions within the structure of the
audio-visual media environment is still not resolved. TRT has always been
considered as the back yard of the governments. I hope our successors will
be able to change it and it can be possible to establish a TRT which is
autonomous, independent and impartial’ (Interview, 12th July 2006).
These comments highlight a significant problem within the broadcasting realm but
nonetheless it does not diminish the fact that TRT has been ‘digging its heels’
throughout the implementation process. Despite being a consequence of bureaucratic
pressures to meet EU’s conditionality, one of the most controversial medium term
priorities was delivered before the end of 2004. The first broadcasts fell short of
meeting expectations, but they have nevertheless been successful in giving a positive
message to the European Union in terms of Turkey’s ‘readiness’ to take the
integration process further. The EU summit of December 2004 was the most critical
turning point in this respect because the decision whether to start negotiations was to
be decided in this summit. The European Council’s usual annual progress report, and
the accompanying recommendations that were published in October 2004, provided
guidance on its decision. In its recommendations for the coming Council summit, it
was suggested that ‘the Commission considers that Turkey sufficiently fulfils the
political criteria and recommends that accession negotiations be opened.’ (EU
Commission, 2004: 3). This was the moment Turkey had been waiting for since it
started its harmonisation process with the European Union following the Helsinki
summit in 1999. However, in terms of Kurdish broadcasting the next difficult step
was to extend it to local channels and allow local private channels to start
transmissions.
230
The Implementation of New Legislative Measures in Local Private
TV and Radio Broadcasts
Even though the directive had allowed private and public stations to broadcast
traditionally used languages since January 2004, and 11 license applications had
been made to RTÜK, the local transmissions only began in March 2006 in three
local media outlets.
The two-year gap between the period when the directive came into use until the
actual start of broadcasts was caused by bureaucratic obstacles, such as the
obligation to complete an audience profile survey, and the completion of necessary
documents. In the temporary article of the directive, it was stated that the broadcasts
would remain on national private and public channels until this audience profile was
completed. The chosen methodology for determining the characteristics of the
audience was far below professional standards. As was the case with TRT’s
audience profile analysis, instead of conducting professional research to consider the
application of three local channels in the city of Diyarbakır, RTÜK simply inquired
at the local Prefecture and Dicle University about the intensively spoken dialects in
the city (Akşam, 10th June 2004). The prefecture of Diyarbakır informed RTÜK that
Kırmançi and Zaza were the intensively spoken dialects in the city and, in
September 2004, RTÜK invited the local channels to complete the paperwork and
make a formal application for a license.
One of the three local channels that transmit in the Kurdish Kırmançi dialect of
Kurdish is Gun TV from Diyarbakır. The channel made its application on 23rd
March 2004 and began regular broadcasts of the cultural program Derguşa Çande
(Cradle of Civilization) on 23rd March 2006. The delay in granting licences was due
to the conflict between RTÜK and the local television channels over the completion
of all the necessary documents for license applications (Hürriyet, 22nd October 2004).
According to RTÜK experts, the lack of necessary information in the documentation
that has been provided by the remaining eight stations is the only reason why more
licenses are not granted.
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According to Cemal Doğan of Gün TV, which is one of the three stations with a
license, the official response to their application came after Prime Minister Erdoğan
delivered a bold speech in Diyarbakır in August 2005, in which he declared that he
recognised the existence of the ‘Kurdish problem’ (Hürriyet, 12th August 2005).
Indeed, following the Prime Minister’s speech, the General Secretariat for EU affairs
tried to step up the process for Kurdish broadcasting in private channels. In a
communication to the High Council, the Secretariat demanded that these broadcasts
should begin before the 3rd of October, the date on which the formal negotiations
were scheduled to begin with the European Union (Y. Ataç, Hürriyet, 27th August
2005). Following the RTÜK’s decision in November 2005 to lift the temporary
article prohibiting local and regional broadcasts in different languages, the
institutions that had completed their paperwork were invited to apply for licences at
the end of December 2005 (Hürriyet, 28th December 2005).
Derguşa Çande is a chat show about the region’s cultural and historical
texture. Sometimes we invite a poet, a writer or an expert in a subject.
Sometimes we go out on the streets introducing historical and cultural places.
It is going well but because of the problem with subtitles, we can’t make live
transmissions. The technical process to edit, translate and put the Kurdish
subtitles takes about two days. Under normal circumstances editing and
232
preparing a 45-minute program should not take more 2-3 hours. But in our
case it takes about 2-3 days for us. We are still waiting for the result of our
appeal to the high court to repeal the limitations on content, timing and
subtitles (Cemal Doğan, Gün TV, phone interview, July 2006).
For RTÜK experts, the use of subtitles and limitations on time are practices that are
used in other member states, but the local stations ‘complain’ about these obligations
to the European Commission and the ‘EU is buying into their game’. The
reactionary response of RTÜK to both local channels and the Commission on these
issues is explained as follows:
The EU wants them to make transmission as long as they want. But we say
that if we do not put a time limit then they will not be able to learn Turkish.
They need to learn this language; they are not a separate state! If they do not,
they will have problems with integrating into the society. This concern is
shared by all European countries. Because we were inspired by their
implementations we can comfortably ask them why they [ EU members] are
implementing similar kind of limitations... In the last report [2006] the EU
criticised the limitations on time and subtitles. We do not concur (Bora
Sönmez, Interview, 11th January 2007).
The comments by RTÜK experts highlight two dilemmas with regards to ethnic,
diasporic or minority media. First, it reinforces a European-wide concern expressed
by officials over the ‘integration’ of different cultures, as previously discussed in
various examples such as Germany and Holland (Aksoy and Robins 2000; Ogan,
2001; Milikowski, 2000). The second dilemma that emerged strongly in RTÜK’s
approach relates to the quantification of ‘minimum standards’ for minority media
within the European context. This issue was also touched upon earlier.
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in this matter because it is aware of the sensitivities of Turkey about this
issue. So it does not state it openly. As you know, Kurds also get angry with
this and they claim that they are minorities but principal elements [of
Turkey]. The EU is leaving this debate to Turkey itself, but what Kurds are
demanding are minority rights. It is an altogether different question whether
they become minorities or establish a separate state. But what the EU is
considering is these rights as individual rights. Therefore it does not impose
on Turkey collective rights. It is considering language rights, freedom of
religion, freedom to publish [broadcast] and in what ways there are
limitations, problems or prohibitions in these areas (Sema Kılıçer, Interview,
11th January 2007).
234
The lack of necessary infrastructure on the part of RTÜK is significant. Although the
Council wanted to employ new personnel, especially in the languages other than
Turkish, this has so far not been possible. At the moment, they compensate for this
lack with the mandatory provision of subtitles and direct translations in each
program. Hence, the obligation of subtitles is argued to be the most effective way of
regulating and auditing the transmissions, particularly in Kurdish. However, this is
not an effective way of conducting local broadcasting.
Gün TV’s manager is not content with the restrictions to their transmissions but, as
he stated, he does not measure their significance in terms of ‘media production
techniques’ or ‘broadcasting principals’. As the process we have depicted so far has
indicated, broadcasting in different languages means more than achieving internal
and external diversity in the media. Particularly as regards the Kurdish broadcasts, it
highlights more inherent tensions and conflicts, and a possible change in the
understanding of Kurdish identity. As director of Gün TV stated:
235
understanding and acknowledgment of (our) existence (Cemal Doğan,
Interview, 26th July 2007)
In 2005Gün TV applied to the high court for the invalidation of three articles of the
directive on the grounds that it was against certain articles of the constitution which
stipulated a social and democratic state, freedom of expression and equality. The
high court rejected the application on 31st January 2006 and Gün TV is now waiting
for the result of their appeal, and is considering taking the case to the European
Court of Human Rights. Nevertheless, as Cemal Doğan also highlighted in our
interview, the beginning of Kurdish broadcasting on local television, even though
limited, is an indication of a ‘mentality shift’ in Turkey regarding the Kurdish
problem. He believes these broadcasts were instrumental in the elimination of
‘phobia’ and ‘prejudices’ around the Kurdish problem. In his view, what needs to be
done next is to amend the directive and lift the restrictions on time and content. As
he further explained:
The big national media outlets are thinking in terms of the shares they can
get in advertising, and they are also structured around the axis of politics and
industry. Because these organizations have not taken any steps so far [for
Kurdish broadcasts] these transmissions can be done on non-profit oriented
TRT on a wider time slot. Most importantly, at a time when Turkey have
taken steps for a more democratic and peaceful solution to the Kurdish
problem, the organizations which transmit broadcasts in other countries can
be provided the legal structure to make transmissions in Turkey (C. Doğan,
conference speech, 5th November 2006, obtained in e-mail correspondence).
Whether his calls to make satellite channels like Roj TV (previously Med TV) legal
will be answered remains to be seen, as this still constitutes an international dispute
between Turkey and Denmark. Turkey has in the past taken bilateral measures to
prevent broadcasts of MED TV from United Kingdom.
236
Because of their shared principles of secularism and Republicanism, France and
Turkey display similar tendencies in terms of their approaches to multiculturalism
and diversity. In France, broadcasting in the regional languages, such as Breton and
Provencal, began in the 1970s on the public service broadcaster. The total number of
hours available for the six regional languages totalled up to 265 hours per year, with
Alsace and Breton leading the figures by 68 and 66 hours per year respectively
(Guyot, 2002, in Cormack, 2007).
Seen in this light, the proposed amendments to remove the limitations on time and
content within the current framework seem difficult to achieve. Furthermore, RTÜK
experts, both in the old administration and in the new one, are convinced that they
have delivered one of the best practices amongst the European Union member states.
The lack of a standard EU definition of a ‘minority’ and ‘minority rights’, as well as
standards for the implementation of broadcasts in ‘minority languages’ is helping
Turkey’s case.
237
makers, EU experts and local television producers all seem to agree that Turkey’s
long journey to the European Union, and its efforts to harmonise with EU legislation,
was one of the major factors that accelerated the process of allowing Kurdish
broadcasting. In the eyes of some of my informants, were it not for the EU
integration process, this process could take another two to three decades in Turkey.
Conclusion
The beginning of broadcasting in ethnic languages or languages other than Turkish
has been one of the most controversial topics within the colossal structural changes
that took place in Turkey at the beginning of the 2000s. The analysis of the
introduction and implementation of the new legislative measures that allowed this
change reveals a great deal about the central dilemmas of cultural and minority
rights within the European Union and Turkey. Furthermore, it also reveals how the
national context responds to global and transnational forces, and tries to negotiate
their impact.
Introducing and implementing the new regulations has been a long process that has
been divided between two different governments. The DSP-ANAP-MHP coalition
government has been internally divided on the issue of cultural rights. Although the
new AKP government secured a majority position in the parliament and was thus
able to process the legislation relatively easily, the implementation of the process
was slow, and reflected a general reluctance on the part of the authorities.
Firstly, pressures from the military on the grounds of national security and integrity
left their mark on the regulatory framework. Secondly, the taboo over the use of
Kurdish language in broadcasting created a highly reluctant attitude to change within
public institutions. Both TRT and the regulator RTÜK have considered the
introduction of the broadcasts either as a risk or as a burden for their institutions.
Despite its public service credentials, TRT has not considered the implementation of
broadcasts in terms of enhancing its internal diversity. It simply did not want to be
the only institution responsible for these controversial broadcasts. However, due to
238
losing its autonomy in the face of political pressures from government and other
state institutions, it eventually had to comply unwillingly.
What is striking in TRT’s case is that there has been no re-evaluation of public
service ideals in broadcasting during the implementation of the framework. And the
obligatory requirements, such as the audience profiles, have not been completed in a
professional manner capable of reflecting the existing characteristics of their target
audience. RTÜK, on the other hand, had more concrete concerns in terms of its
technical infrastructure. In addition to the lack of relevant personnel, the existence of
certain radical and unregulated radio stations openly inviting young people to join
the PKK’s armed movement added to their concerns over the difficult task of
monitoring and auditing these broadcasts. Both of these public institutions, despite
their central role and function in the delivery of this process, have become entangled
in the web of bureaucratic or political pressures.
Thirdly, the lack of a standard approach to ‘minority issues’ within the European
Union, and the lack of standard practices in terms of ‘minority broadcasting’,
allowed the policies to be tailored to the needs of Turkey, but did not necessarily
eliminate disputes between Turkish authorities, local television stations and the EU
Commission. Nonetheless, these dilemmas do not diminish the significance of the
Kurdish problem in Turkey; on the contrary, they accentuate it.
239
Therefore, the motivations behind the introduction of ethnic or different languages
have not been formulated in terms of creating external and internal diversity in the
media that could reflect the plurality of identities in the Turkish context. The
implementation process has been rather constrained by concerns about propaganda,
terrorism and national security. In this regard, although the European Union has
been the major external force behind the transformation of the broadcasting realm in
terms of introducing Kurdish language programs, the analysis in this chapter once
again confirms the strength of the national framework in Turkey170.
170
A contemporary study which looked at the process of Kurdish broadcasting from the perspective
of policy Europeanisation also supports this conclusion and argues that although compliance with the
democratic conditionality principle of the EU has been influential in the change of policies,
Europeanisation did not bring forth a transformation which offers a ‘paradigmatic change’ (Sümer,
2007:203).
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Chapter 7
Conclusion
As shown at the beginning of this thesis, the ways in which the media operate in a
given national context are linked to its political culture and the boundaries of its
citizenship and rights regime. The maintenance of external and internal diversity in
the media depends on how these rights are institutionalised and exercised, as well as
the extent to which legislative conditions and symbolic boundaries can be
transformed. Hence, the mediation of cultural identities ultimately hinges on wider
questions and power struggles about rights and citizenship, as well as the capacity
and willingness of nation states to accommodate and acknowledge ethnic or
linguistic diversity. This broader debate also holds true for the emergence,
development and transformation of minority or particularistic media.
241
special position, whether physical or symbolic, of minorities within the polity
(Cormack, 2007).
Although such dilemmas and power struggles appear to be located within the nation
state, they are, in fact, connected to wider global and transnational processes, such as:
economic and cultural globalisation; the rise of the human rights regime; and the
increasing influence of new forms of supranational governance, such as the
European Union. Therefore, as the global is ‘partially embedded’ in the national, this
creates the need to examine more closely the specific locations and responses that
these processes produce, because they engender a set of new ‘negotiations’ between
the global and the national (Sassen, 2007).
The so called economic and cultural Turkification policies that took place between
the late 1920s and mid-1960s were also aggravated by international conflicts
between Greece and Turkey and the climate of the Second World War. In this
climate, and due to the previous suppression of Kurdish uprisings, the issue of
cultural rights, especially the right to use the Kurdish language in education and
media, appeared on the agenda after the 1960s. The ‘Kurdish problem’ has
represented one of the most pressing dilemmas confronting the state, because it
contravenes the Republic’s founding principles. In this setting whilst the non-
Muslims have been able to retain their long media tradition, the provisions allowing
the use of Kurdish language in media have been more controversial.
242
Turkey’s approach to cultural diversity has been further challenged by the
transnationalisation of citizenship and rights regimes (Isin and Turner, 2002; Turner,
1993), especially during its so-called Europeanisation process, which began in 2001.
One of the preconditions for possible Turkish entry into the EU was for the country
to comply with the Copenhagen Criteria, the principals that guide the EU’s Eastern
enlargement. Harmonisation with these criteria required rapid and definite policy
changes and implementation in the disputed realms of human rights and
democratisation. The reform process between 2001 and 2004 dramatised some of the
most fundamental difficulties in the strategies employed by the state to deal with
diversity. One challenge was the issue of Kurdish cultural rights, or more
specifically, access to media in the Kurdish language.
Hence, this thesis has situated the interplay of these broader factors within Turkey’s
national context by examining the transformations that have occurred in the
mediation of cultural identities by capturing the changes in two different
particularistic media systems. The first case has analysed the changes within the old
minority regime by focussing on the non-Muslim community newspapers. The
second case has considered the recent, and previously unthinkable, developments in
broadcasting policy and practice during the process of harmonising Turkey’s
national laws with the legislative criteria of EU membership. Controversially, as part
of these new developments, programs on the national public service broadcaster and
other private local television and radio channels have been allowed to use the
Kurdish language since 2001; previously, the public use of the language had been
banned. The first case represents an ancient minority media tradition in Europe, and
the latter reflects and exemplifies contemporary post-national or de-nationalising
challenges.
The findings in Chapter 5 validate the argument that the relationship between media
and minority communities contains elements of ‘conflict’, ‘change’ and ‘continuity’
(Horboken, 2004). These findings reveal that, despite their diminishing numbers,
non-Muslim minority media have been revitalised and are adapting to contemporary
developments both on the national and international scene. Over the last decade,
243
they have become more active and open in their claims for recognition within the
minority as well as the national public sphere. Example publications like Agos, Aras
and Şalom accentuate the significance of minority media in establishing linkages
with mainstream media and the so-called wider society.
The developments within the Istanbullite Rum newspapers signal the positive impact
of the improving international relations between Greece and Turkey. Therefore,
minority media in the Turkish context serve as a bridge to reach out to the larger
public sphere to confront prejudices, fight against vilification and, at the same time,
offer a much needed boost to the prestige and status of these ‘fragile communities’
(Dayan, 1998). They also offer new understanding of group identity and have staked
their claim to its re-definition, as the case of Agos has demonstrated. Hence, they
perform a double function in the maintenance of cultural identity.
244
different languages in broadcasting. The analysis in Chapter 6 has revealed that,
despite its limitations, the start of Kurdish language broadcasts represents a dramatic
transformation of the ‘market for loyalties’ as well as a ‘shift’ in the way Kurdish
cultural identity is recognised in Turkey. Hence, the key concepts that define the
transformation can be identified as the normalisation of the historically and
politically charged Kurdish problem, the justification and recognition of linguistic
differences in Turkey, and the attribution of status and prestige to hitherto neglected
or repressed cultural identities. The beginning of broadcasting in different languages
can also be construed as a positive step for the emergence of new multicultural
strategies.
Therefore, the overall conclusion that can be drawn from the findings of these two
case studies is that these transformations indicate an increasing external diversity in
the media structure, an improvement in the recognition of cultural diversity in the
public domain, and a step forward towards a more inclusive and democratic
understanding and exercise of citizenship in Turkey. Nonetheless, the differences in
the configuration of media in the two case studies analysed in this thesis have also
unveiled a key dilemma about the complexity of relationships between globalising
forces and the national context. The ways in which Turkey has responded to these
forces and negotiated them have revealed the strength and analytical significance of
the national framework.
The national framework has shaped the practices and policies discussed in this thesis,
and its resilience in the mediation of cultural identities is evident in a set of
constraints that emerge both on the symbolic and legislative levels. The interaction
of these two levels is further dramatised when various local, national or transnational
currents or forces act upon them and renders a set of reactions and negotiations. The
following discussion unpacks their relationship and interaction.
In this thesis, history, and the historical tensions and dilemmas that have become
sensitive and taboo subjects, emerge as the most significant symbolic force
245
impacting on the ways in which cultural identities are mediated. As the findings of
Chapters 4, 5 and 6 indicate, this constraint cuts across both mainstream and
particularistic media practices.
Historical dilemmas, such as the Armenian issue, the Kurdish problem, and the
Cyprus conflict between Turkey and Greece have underpinned the discursive and
symbolic boundaries of the debates in the media over the past two decades. The
suppression of press and political freedoms in the aftermath of the 1980 military
coup, and the existing state monopoly over broadcasting, have both contributed to
the emergence of a situation in which, as discussed in Chapter 4, issues and groups
who have been excluded from the media have also been left out of the ‘symbolic
culture of the nation’ (Morley, 2000). Despite a growing external diversity in the
media since the 1980s, in practice, the privileged place of the state and official
ideology in the ‘market for loyalties’ remained strong until the end of 1990s.
In effect therefore, the Turkification policies that led to the eventual and continuous
migration of non-Muslim communities since the 1940s did not become a matter of
public debate until the late 1990s. In fact, until the end of the decade, the media
representation of non-Muslim minorities reflected an approach based on ‘boutique
multiculturalism’ rather than emerging from a genuine attempt to recognise and
address their problems, such as maintenance of their charitable foundations or
schools. Furthermore, certain milestones in Turkification policies, such as the
246
Capital Level or the 6-7th September events, did not even appear on the media
agenda during this decade.
On the other hand, the representation of Kurdish cultural identity, and the Kurdish
minorities’ claims for recognition of their cultural rights, have become confused
with questions of national security and the indivisibility of the state due to the
continuing armed struggle between the PKK and the military. Paradoxically, the
tenets of this framework were also challenged and scrutinised during the 1990s by
the modernising elite, as journalists and politicians began to recognise the cultural
and social aspects of the Kurdish problem during this period.
The discussion in Chapter 3 has demonstrated the ways in which the nation-building
period in Turkey depended on the strict rejection of religious or ethnic loyalties and
the imposition of a universal model of citizenship that attempted to assimilate the
non-Turkish or non-Sunni Muslim elements into the national category.
247
In this regard, the Lausanne regime, which transformed the previous multi-ethnic
social structure into a monolingual, monocultural and mono-religious entity,
continues to prevail as the overarching framework within which diversity is
experienced in Turkey. This framework, which has been discussed in Chapter 3 in
relation to Turkey’s modernisation and the formation of the citizenship regime in
Chapter 3, has defined the state’s strategies of dealing with diversity and it has also
shaped the limits within which minority media operate.
The Lausanne regime allowed Armenian, Jewish and Rum communities to retain
their long tradition of media practices. Therefore, the conditions that shaped their
transformation have not been dependent on gaining rights of access and recognition
as was the case for the Kurds. These forces pertained to issues of survival as the
minority communities’ conditions deteriorated due to their diminishing populations.
However, this media is also governed by the same rules and regulations regarding
the freedom of expression and press that organise the general media structure. As the
comments of respondents in Chapter 5 have demonstrated, there are still certain
forms of self-censorship when it comes to persistent taboos such as the Cyprus
conflict or Armenian massacres. Freedom of expression and press freedoms are still
restricted by Article 301 of the criminal code, which has been used against
journalists, writers and intellectuals mentioning sensitive topics such as the
Armenian and Kurdish problems. The article penalises the offence of ‘denigration of
Turkishness, the republic and state organs and institutions’ and stipulates six months
to three years’ imprisonment for ‘anyone who openly denigrates the government,
judicial institutions or military or police structures’ (Reporters without Borders,
2007: 125). The incumbent majority AKP government has been unable to muster the
political will to make the necessary legislative changes, despite the number of court
cases reaching 744 in 2007 (Radikal, 31st March 2008). In its 2007 annual progress
report, the European Commission underscored the fact that, unless the article is
amended or repealed, the membership negotiations would not be completed (Radikal,
7th November 2007).
248
The problems posed by this article had major consequences for the media under
discussion in this thesis. Despite trying to fight prejudices and problems inherent
both in minority and majority bureaucracies and public opinion, Hrant Dink, the
editor of Agos newspaper and one of my key respondents, became a target and
victim of the very xenophobia he was trying to eliminate. In the midst of disputing
court cases based on Article 301, Hrant Dink was murdered in Istanbul on 19th
January 2007. He was shot in broad daylight in front of the Agos offices by a 17-
year-old teenager, apparently because he insulted ‘Turkishness’ in one of his essays
in the newspaper. This was seen as ‘a chilling manifestation of a resurgence of
xenophobic nationalism aimed at Turkey’s non-Muslim minorities and the Kurds -
plus their defenders in the liberal elite’. The case is still unresolved, although some
people have been charged in connection with the offence (The Economist, 10th
March 2007).
The Lausanne regime remains significant; not only is it important for the non-
Muslim minorities, but it also has direct implications for the Kurdish population
because recognition of cultural rights for those groups who were not covered by the
treaty has not been welcomed straightforwardly. Kurdish claims for the recognition
of a separate identity and language within Turkey have, since the foundation of the
Republic, been considered to be too costly and controversial.
249
The analysis in Chapter 4 and 6 has demonstrated the ways in which the
representation of Kurdish language and identity in the media structure has been
closely related to the legislative and regulatory frameworks that have shaped or
deliberately limited their expressions. These restrictive measures were part of the
legacy of the 1982 constitution that was prepared after the 1980 coup under the
military regime. As stated in Chapter 3, expressions of Kurdish identity were
prohibited after the military coup. The use of Kurdish language was banned in 1983
based by Law No. 2932, which also declared Turkish as the ‘mother-tongue’ of all
Turkish citizens. In addition to prohibiting Kurdish language publishing, naming
places and children in any language other than Turkish was also banned (O’Neil,
2007).
Perhaps the realm that has been most vulnerable to these restrictive measures has
been broadcasting. This was especially the case until the break up of the state
monopoly, through which the military interventions had left their mark on the
organisation of legislative and regulatory frameworks for public institutions such as
TRT (Kejanlıoğlu, 2004). The restrictions under Article 26 and 28 of the 1982
constitution, which have been the most significant obstacles to the introduction of
broadcasting in different languages, are similarly legacies of the 1982 constitution.
They have only been lifted as part of the constitutional amendments in 2001 during
the Europeanisation reform period.
Nonetheless, concerns over national security and unity, most ardently expressed by
the military, left their mark on the framing of the new regulatory framework to allow
these broadcasts. This was because these principals had already been enshrined as
part of media legislation. As also discussed in Chapter 3, the notion of ‘the integrity
and the indivisibility of the state with its nation’ is part of Article 5/A of the Law on
Turkish Radio and Television (No. 2954) of 1983; and Article 4 of the Law in the
Establishment and Broadcasting of Radio Stations and Television Channels (No.
3984) of 1994(Oran 2007: 46). Furthermore, as the analysis of the implementation of
broadcasting in different languages in Chapter 6 shows, RTÜK’s Directive on Radio
and Television Broadcasts to be Made in Different Languages and Dialects
250
Traditionally Used by Turkish Citizens in their Daily Lives endorsed Article 8 of the
first directive which stipulated the sanctions about broadcasts if they contradict with
general principals of the Republic, and issues of national security
The centrality of such concerns, about national unity, security and the ‘indivisibility’
of the state, within the main principals organising the broadcasting domain
elucidates clearly the privileged place of legislative forces in the national framework.
Furthermore, legislative measures also have a direct bearing on the autonomy and
freedom of media institutions, especially the two major public institutions, TRT and
RTÜK, which were charged with the duty to implement the new policies of
broadcasting in different languages. The analysis in Chapter 6 has also shown how
these institutions have become entangled in a web of bureaucratic and political
pressures and have been reluctant in the implementation of their duties. The
reluctance of authorities and public institutions in this process is significant because
it exposes some of the fundamental dilemmas of human rights instruments and the
potential responses of national frameworks to transnational or global forces.
Turkey’s reluctant and selective response to global forces can also be seen through
the lens of two interrelated and contradicting features of the ‘global system’, namely
the issues of ‘national sovereignty’ and ‘universal human rights’ (Soysal, 1996: 24).
The UN and EU systems represent different models of state sovereignty. Where the
former still upholds the provisions of the Westphalian system, the latter seeks to
apply a transnational understanding of human rights and democracy. Therefore,
despite being vehicles for transnational challenges to state power, they are still
251
limited by whether or not the nation state in question is a signatory to the
international instruments (Gülalp, 2006).
Additionally, the nature and scope of cultural rights is subject to dispute and it lacks
sanctioning power. This still provides states with room for manoeuvre in defining
their minorities and rights. There is no single treaty that is solely dedicated to the
protection of linguistic rights within the international human rights instruments, but
a number of documents exist within the Council of Europe or UN or regional
systems that refer to ‘freedom of expression’ (O’Neil, 2007; Hamelink, 2004).
Furthermore, although the minority protections within the EU system draw upon
human rights standards that have been codified within Council of Europe and OSCE
regimes, variations in criteria and application remain the norm rather than the
exception within EU member states. There is a lack of all encompassing regulations
or organising criteria in the area of minority or regional languages (McGonagle, Noll
and Price, 2003).
The ambiguity and flexibility in Europe in this area makes it difficult to identify the
minimum standards to be achieved within minority language media provisions
(Cormack, 2007). In the Turkish context, as shown in the previous chapter, this
explains how the authorities can claim that the new regulations governing the use of
different languages in broadcasting have been sufficient to meet satisfactory
standards. Given the fact that Turkey has signed neither the FCNM nor the European
Charter for Regional or Minority Languages, as O’Neil has expressed (2007: 83), its
responsibilities with regards to Kurdish linguistic rights remain as ‘non-interference’.
Turkey’s only obligation under international law is therefore ‘non-discrimination
and freedom of expression’.
252
a reservation on its 27th article, which stipulates that minorities have a right to use
their language. The softness of the international human rights regime allows states to
negotiate their responses to these documents and abstain from applying their
provisions totally or partially.
In this context, it remains to be seen whether the limitations on the duration and
content of Kurdish broadcasts can be extended because, it will also depend on the
changing political climate. In fact, the political picture that has emerged since the
last general election of 22nd July 2007 is highly significant. There are two reasons
why these elections have marked a significant turning point for Turkish politics
since the Europeanisation reforms began.
Firstly, as previously stated in Chapter 4, the rift between the so-called secular
establishment and the Islamists has widened acutely, especially in the period
preceding the early general election, in which the AKP won re-election to a second
term in office. Since this date, Turkish politics have become mired in uncertainty.
The tensions between the secular establishment and AKP government heightened
after new legislation controversially allowed the headscarf to be worn in educational
institutions. This issue is particularly charged in the Turkish context as it challenges
one of the founding principals of the secular state and can be understood as a proxy
for broader cultural debates within Turkish society. In a similar proxy context, the
principal prosecutor of the Supreme Court of Appeals has recently appealed to the
Constitutional Court to shut down AKP on the grounds that it has become a ‘centre
for anti-secular activities’ (BBC Turkish, 14th March 2008).
The second major impact of the last general election was that Kurdish MPs won
seats and entered parliament for the first time in 15 years, albeit as independent
candidates in order to bypass the quota limitations in election regulations. They were
then united under the pro-Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP) banner (Hürriyet,
29th July 2007). During the election campaign, the pro-Kurdish, former DEP MP
Leyla Zana, who has been supporting the Kurdish candidates’ campaign, openly
declared that ‘it was time for Turkey to be divided into provinces’ (Ntvmsnbc, 20th
253
July 2007). In September 2007, the leader of the DTP challenged the incumbent
AKP government and the European Union’s proposed solutions to the Kurdish issue.
The DTP’s leader maintained that the party did not concur with the EU’s approach
in recognising individual rather than collective rights and argued that ‘cultural rights
are extremely limited in the solution of the Kurds [who] at the same time have a
political problem [because] they want to be a partner in the administration of the
state’ (Đ. Berkan, Radikal, 16th November 2007).
On 16th November 2007 the principal prosecutor of the Supreme Court of Appeals
sent a case to the Constitutional Court to ban the DTP on the basis of ‘becoming a
centre for actions that contradict the indivisibility of the state with its nation.’ The
political and ideological affiliation between the hardliner Kurdish nationalist DTP
and the PKK, and their support for Kurdish calls for a federation based on the two
ethnic ‘primary elements’ of Turks and Kurds, has since been a matter of wide
public debate and concern (C. Ülsever, Hürriyet, 20th November 2007; Đ. Berkan,
Radikal, 16th November 2007). The case was accepted for consideration on 23rd
November 2007 by the Constitutional Court. The Democratic Society Party (DTP) in
its plea rejected the charges against it (Hürriyet, 16th November 2007; Bianet, 11th
February 2008). Both cases to ban AKP and DTP remain pending at the time of
writing as does the future evolution of Turkish politics.
These developments, which occurred after the completion of the analysis for this
thesis, ironically justify its significance for the Turkish as well as the European
context. Although the thesis has focussed on changes within the media system, this
thesis has validated the argument that mediated communication is ‘fundamentally
implicated in the exercise of, and resistance to, power in modern societies’
(Silverstone, 2005).
In this light, the findings in this thesis compel us to consider the influence of
processes of Europeanisation and globalisation together, rather than treating them
with different conceptual tool kits. Firstly, because, as Beck and Grande (2007: 6)
suggest, what constitutes the ‘political’, ‘moral’ and ‘spiritual’ borders of Europe
254
and its ‘institutional architecture’, regardless of its conceptualisation as European
Union or as a geopolitical space, is still in the making. In this view, ‘Europe as such
does not exist’, but Europeanisation as a permanent ‘thoroughgoing transformation’
does, but current research lacks the ‘interpretative categories’ to comprehend it fully.
According to this perspective, ‘Europe is another word for variable geometry,
variable national interests, variable involvement, variable internal and external
relations, variable statehood and variable identity’ (Beck and Grande, 2007: 6).
Secondly, Europeanisation is not an ‘even process’ across Europe, and despite its
ubiquitous nature that pulls non-member states into its zone of influence, it also
produces ‘defensive responses’ (Wallace, 2000). Hence, studies on Europeanisation
continue to emphasise the significance of the ‘domestic context’, i.e. the politics and
already available structures. As Cowles, Caporaso and Risse (2001: 2) maintain,
Europeanisation cannot provide a sufficient condition for domestic change, because
its forces of adaptation ‘must pass through and interact with facilitating and/or
obstructive factors specific to each country.’
This dynamic has been explained using the analogy of ‘magnetic fields’ (Wallace,
2000). In this analysis, the ‘domestic’, ‘global’ and the ‘European’ each constitute a
different field that has varying strength. As Wallace (2000: 371) puts it, ‘Politics and
policy will be attracted by the magnetic field with the strongest force in relation to
the issue being addressed. Which is the strongest may vary between issue areas and
between countries, as well as over time.’ The reluctance to introduce broadcasting in
different languages, seen in this light, reveals acutely the strength of the domestic
field - i.e. the Republican paradigm, being the major constitutive element of the
national framework in Turkey - and its sensitivity towards accepting forms of
cultural rights and recognition of differences that fall outside its boundaries.
One approach to alleviating this impasse can be found in the model of ‘cosmopolitan
democracy’, because it addresses the question of democracy within the global order
in terms of ‘overlapping’ relationships between regional, local and global processes.
One of the ways in which cosmopolitan democracy can be achieved is by enhancing
255
and strengthening the capacity and accountability of constitutive features of
cosmopolitan democracy, such as the UN and the EU systems (Held, 1995; 1998).
Furthermore, as Beck and Grande (2007: 14) argue, the main principle of
cosmopolitanism, namely, regarding others ‘as both equal and different’, needs to
become an internal component of the narratives and practices of Europeanisation, if
it is to become viable both on a national and transnational level. This is especially
relevant in the Turkish context where post-national challenges, accentuated by
processes such as European integration, are challenging the contours of Turkishness
as defined in the Lausanne regime (Clark, 2006).
An Assessment of the Aims and Objectives of the Study and Future Implications
for Research
One of the central aims of this thesis has been to locate particularistic media
practices in Turkey within the developing field of minority/diasporic media in
Europe. By considering the transformation of non-Muslim minority media, one of
the oldest examples of minority media in Europe, this thesis has accomplished one
of the first original pieces of research into this area, both in Turkey and within the
European context. This thesis has also been innovative in the ways in which it has
256
bridged the cross-cutting issues between the transformations of the old minority
media regime and the new developments in Kurdish broadcasting. By considering
these under the general framework of citizenship and rights, an ongoing and pressing
problem in the European context, it has addressed some of the fundamental
contemporary dilemmas about the ways in which nation states negotiate
transnational global and local forces and dynamics. Hence, this thesis has provided
an original contribution to the necessary enhancement of pan-European data
(Sreberny, 2002; Wal, 2002) in the emerging field of minority/diasporic media.
By the same token, the thesis has contributed to the study of the media in Turkey by
taking a fresh approach to the field that attempts to consider these developments
beyond a media policy or media history approach. However, this thesis, like any
other, has also had its limits and limitations. By retaining a focus on the traditional
or old media, such as newspapers and terrestrial television and radio channels, it did
not extend its coverage to the developments in new media such as online portals,
online radio stations or satellite television in Kurdish. It also did not include the
developments or the transformation of pro-Kurdish newspapers in order to capture
the rapid and unprecedented contemporary changes that have been taking place in
the broadcasting realm. In this regard, the aim to identify the significance of
minority media for the communities in question has been partially achieved for the
Kurds.
Therefore, the findings in this thesis must be tested and enhanced through new
research efforts in this field. Firstly, new research needs to inquire into the ways in
which old and new media play into the survival and maintenance of Kurdish identity
and to what extent the media has a role in its definition and re-definition. Secondly,
the findings in this research indicate that there is a pressing need within media
studies and social sciences in Turkey to shift its focus to ethnographic audience
research and media consumption. This is because the findings about the processes
that led to the introduction of Kurdish broadcasting revealed that the voices, needs
and aspirations of the Kurds themselves have been largely excluded from the
processes. Neither TRT nor RTÜK has completed their obligatory audience profile
257
analysis, and there has been no equivalent academic research in this area. Finally,
the findings for non-Muslim minority media can be tested against new research that
focuses on diasporic media practices in Europe. In particular, such endeavours could
produce valuable insights into the context of Central and South-eastern Europe,
where the history of minority formation and protection, and experiences of the
modernisation process show similarities to the Turkish context. It is hoped that the
findings and questions raised by this research will be of use to future research in
these areas.
258
Appendix I
Chronology of Events During Europeanisation Reforms
3rd October 2001 1st Harmonisation Package
34 amendments to the 1982 constitution, entered into force 19th February 2002.
July 2003 7th Harmonisation Package (entered into force 7th August 2003)
259
24 June 2004 9th Harmonisation Package
Eliminated the NSC’s general representative on the RTÜK board, thereby
decreasing its control over Turkish broadcasting.
260
Appendix II
Ideological Tendencies of Major Newspapers in Turkey
261
Appendix III
Cross-Media Ownership in Turkey
262
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List of Interviews
Ahmet Taşgetiren, Columnist Yeni Şafak Newspaper, 9th March 2005, Istanbul.
Andrea Rombopulos, Chief Editor of Iho Newspaper, 1st April 2005, Istanbul.
Ara Koçunyan, Chief Editor of Jamanak Newspaper, 4th February 2005, Istanbul.
Ari Hergel, Voluntary Producer in Yaşam Radio, 28th January 2005, Istanbul.
Bora Sönmez, RTÜK officer, 11th January 2007, Ankara.
Celal Başlangıç, Journalist Radikal and Beyoğlu Newspapers, 16th June 2004,
Istanbul.
Cemal Doğan, General Director of Gün TV, 26th July 2006, Phone interview.
Deniz Baler Saporta, Press Officer of the Chief Rabbi, 24th March 2005, Istanbul.
Dimitri Frangoplo, Former Principal of Zografiyon School, 3rd February 2005,
Đstanbul.
Emre Aköz, Columnist Sabah Newspaper, 6th April 2005, Istanbul.
Ersin Kalkan, Journalist Hürriyet Newspaper, 28th February 2005, Istanbul.
Etyen Mahçupyan, Current chief editor of Agos newspaper, 7th March 2005, Istanbul.
Ferai Tınç, Columnist Hürriyet Newspaper, 22nd March 2005, Istanbul.
Hayko Bağdat, Voluntary Producer in Yaşam Radio, 1st April 2005, Istanbul.
Hrant Dink, Former Chief Editor of Agos Newspaper, 13th July 2004 and 4th January
2005, Istanbul.
Karen Şarhon, Director of Sephardic Jews Research Centre, 25th February 2005,
Istanbul.
Kürşat Bumin, Columnist Yeni Şafak Newspaper, 7th March 2005, Istanbul.
Latif Okul, Head of Auditing Section of TRT, 12th July 2006, Ankara.
Lizi Behmoaras, Writer/Former editor in Şalom Newspaper, 16th March 2005,
Istanbul.
Mihail Vassiliadis, Chief Editor of Apoyevmatini Newspaper, 11th January 2005,
Istanbul.
Murat Belge, Columnist Radikal Newspaper, 17th March 2005, Istanbul.
Nadire Mater, Director of Bianet Independent News Portal, 17th March 2005,
Istanbul
Naim Güleryüz, Director of the Jewish Museum, 23rd March 2005, Istanbul.
Oktay Ekşi, Head Columnist of Hürriyet Newspaper, 6th September 2005, Istanbul.
Ömer Büyüktimur, General Director of Söz TV, 15th July 2007, Phone Interview.
Oral Çalışlar, Columnist Cumhuriyet Newspaper, 23rd February 2005, Istanbul.
302
Payline Tovmasyan, Editor in Aras Publishing House, 13th January 2005, Istanbul.
Ragıp Zarakolu, Columnist Özgür Politika/Director of Belge Publishing House, 23rd
February 2005, Istanbul.
Rıdvan Akar, TV Producer Journalist, 8th June 2004, Istanbul.
Rıfat Bali, Writer, 9th June 2004 and 6th September 2005, Istanbul.
Rober Haddeler, Chief Editor of Marmara Newspaper, 16th February 2005, Istanbul.
Rober Koptaş, Editor in Aras Publishing House, 13th January 2005, Istanbul.
Sadık Đkinci, TRT Producer for Programs in Different Languages, 10th July 2006,
Ankara.
Şahin Alpay, Columnist Zaman Newspaper, 2nd March 2005, Istanbul.
Sefa Kaplan, Journalist Hürriyet Newspaper, 28th February 2005, Istanbul.
Sema Kılıçer, Expert in Delegation of the EU Commission, 11th January 2007,
Ankara.
Sulhi Dölek, Scenario Writer of TV series Yabancı Damat, 6th September 2005, e-
mail correspondance.
Takuhi Tovmasyan, Editor in Aras Publishing House, 13th January 2005, Istanbul.
Tamar Nalcı, Editor in Aras Publishing House, 13th January 2005, Istanbul.
Tilda Levi, Chief Editor of Şalom Newspaper, 25th February 2005, Istanbul.
Tomris Giritlioğlu, Film Director, 30th March 2005, Phone Interview.
Umut Talu, Columnist Sabah Newspaper, 1st March 2005, Istanbul.
Yahya Koçoğlu, Journalist Writer, 4th March 2005, Istanbul
Yani Demircioğlu, Principal of Zografiyon School, 1st April 2005, Istanbul
Yani Skarlatos, Balıklı Rum Hospital Board Director, 2nd March 2005, Istanbul.
Zakir Avşar, Former Deputy Head of RTÜK, 10th January 2007, Ankara.
Zuhal Bıkım, Producer in Gün TV, 18th July 2006, Phone Interview.
303