The Economist - November 11, 2004
http://www.economist.com/World/europe/displayStory.cfm?story_id=3379889

ANKARA - “HAPPY is he who calls himself a Turk!” That breezy slogan, emblazoned on mountainsides and offices from the Aegean to the Euphrates, was devised by Kemal Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey, as he set about forging a fresh identity for his people. The idea was that former subjects of the Ottoman empire — whose native language might be Arabic, Albanian or Kurdish—would find a new togetherness as citizens of a unitary republic. And in case people hesitated to embrace the joys of Turkishness, there were harsh penalties for those who asserted any other sort of identity.

For most of the past 80 years, these principles have been sacrosanct. But if Turkey is to have any hope of joining the European Union, some taboo topics of history, identity and language must be discussed openly, without fear of prosecution. In a burst of zeal three years ago, the government—led by former Islamists—set up a panel to take a broad look at questions of human rights and identity, and to suggest how things could be improved. But Turkey's masters got more than they expected. The board's report, released this month, said things that were almost unsayable, triggering a sharp backlash.

For example, the report implies that if the Lausanne treaty of 1923—the basis of the Turkish state and its foreign relations—had been fully implemented, bloodshed between Turks and Kurds might have been avoided. To justify this argument, which is explosive in Turkey, however mild it might seem elsewhere, the report cites article 39 of the treaty, which allows Turkish nationals to use “any language they wish in commerce, in public and private meetings and all types of press and publication.”

It also says that articles which supposedly protect non-Muslim minorities have been read too narrowly: as well as covering Jews, Armenians and Greeks, these articles should have been applied, for example, to Syrian Orthodox Christians. More controversially still, it suggests replacing the term “Turk” with a more inclusive word to cover all ethnicities and faiths, such as “Turkiyeli”—“of Turkey”.

It was more than some Turks could bear. Even as Ibrahim Kaboglu, the jurist who heads the board, was reading the report at a press conference, a fellow member snatched it and tore it into shreds. Both Mr Kaboglu and Baskin Oran, a political scientist who wrote the report, have been bombarded with threatening phone calls and mail. “Fraternal blood will be spilled,” warned one. Another called for a military coup. Prosecutors in Ankara are investigating claims that both academics may have committed treason. Ilker Basbug, a top general, has joined the fray, saying Turkey's unity should not be tampered with. The government, frightened by the reaction, has washed its hands of the report and denied commissioning it.

It is possible, though unlikely, says Husnu Ondul, a human-rights lawyer, that the two authors may be prosecuted under an article of the new penal code approved in September, which provides for up to ten years' jail for those who engage in unspecified “activities” against the “national interest”. What might such activities be? In a footnote, the law deems “anti-national” anyone who advocates withdrawing Turkish troops from Cyprus, or terming “genocide” the killing of hundreds of thousands of Armenians in 1915. If the aim was to stifle discussion of this second issue, it failed: at a conference in Venice last month, historians from all countries involved took a broader, more cool-headed look at the 1915 tragedy than would be possible in Turkey—now or, it seems, any time soon. And what about the 100,000 Turkish-Cypriots who voted (vainly) in April for a UN plan that would have removed most Turkish troops from Cyprus: was that a crime?