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Sevan Nişanyan is a bolsayhe who studied history, philosophy and Latin American political systems in Yale and Columbia Universities. He writes columns for the newspapers Agos and Taraf.
He has a blog in Turkish and posts his writings there. I translated my favorite article into English so that you can read it. Certainly, I am not able to express his exact feelings. Nonetheless, you can still enjoy this thriller like memory of Sevan.
They gave me a sloppy passport for 15 days from New York Turkish consulate. I decided to return my homeland, with a great excitement in my heart. In the airport a civilian officer met with me and took me to a room in the backstage. Identification and a light interrogation. A young and cute lady with him, sitting in silence. I guess that’s the standard procedure: They keep a woman with them so that the person being interrogated doesn’t get afraid and can feel comfortable. Probably written in the hand book.
It continued for two or three months with some breaks. They let me go to home, but also carefully gave the impression that I was being observed. There are desolate and odd places in the last floor of Istanbul Governor’s Office. No one can find your trace if you get lost. They took me there once or twice; in other times, we sat on cafeterias and kebab houses and “chatted”. A few times, we went to some places with a civilian car. Traffic policemen salute us.
In a day in January, they told that “our seniors will interrogate you”, in a hurry. We got in the car; they fastened my eyes and made me kneel. As far as understood, we crossed the bridge of Bosporus twice or three times. We entered into a dark house with a garden. Sometimes making me kneel and sometimes walk, they took me into a cell in the down floors without taking my bind off. They wanted me to take off my belt and shoelaces. They took everything in my pocket by saying “If you get out, we give them back”. The key word: “if”.
After waiting for two hours with fastened eyes, I was taken into interrogation. A big room without any windows. Me on a wooden chair in the middle, like in the movies, two interrogators against me. Apparently, one is in the role of bad cop, trying to provoke me with silly speech. “You are a member of ASALA, come on, confess, get benefit from the repentance law”. The other speaks rarely. However, as soon as you look at his face, you understand that he is an intelligent and domineering man. He has an authority not coming from his position, but rather from his personality. He speaks a refined Turkish. I thought that “There is class solidarity between me and this man, he won’t harm me.” I decided to be comfortable.
He asked me how many languages I know. He questioned each of them in detail. He asked me my travels, especially emphasized Latin America. He asked “Are you Armenian nationalist?” I told that I believe any kind of nationalism is stupidity by giving examples from Turkey. Atatürk? Loud and clear, I told that I don’t believe the so-called Ataturk nationalism is a unifying and humanist ideology. “Then, you are a freemason” he said. What a nuisance! If you are not a communist, then you are an ASALA member. If you are not an ASALA member, you’re a freemason. I swore that I’m not, trying to be convincing. With my scarce knowledge, I bragged about freemasons.
They said ok. Go and fulfill your military service duty. When you return we will see each other again. Naturally other problems occurred during the military service. I was taken into jail, and also took place in newspapers. When I returned, they neither called or asked about me.
*
Two years later, in a surprising fashion, I started to see photos of Hiram Abas in newspapers, who was deputy undersecretary of MİT (Turkish Intelligence Agency). I immediately recognized my cultured interrogator. In a few months, they shot him dead on day light in the street. The year is 1990.
I couldn’t understand what the name “Hiram” meant then, either. I understood it a few years later when I read the book of Mehmet Eymür. The interrogation in which I said “I won’t get out of here alive” was indeed a kind of job interview. Probably, they laughed a lot to my efforts of proving not to be a freemason.
Note from serüven: Father of Abas was known to be a freemason.
Second note: Mehmet Eymür was a former top official in MİT.
He has a blog in Turkish and posts his writings there. I translated my favorite article into English so that you can read it. Certainly, I am not able to express his exact feelings. Nonetheless, you can still enjoy this thriller like memory of Sevan.
They gave me a sloppy passport for 15 days from New York Turkish consulate. I decided to return my homeland, with a great excitement in my heart. In the airport a civilian officer met with me and took me to a room in the backstage. Identification and a light interrogation. A young and cute lady with him, sitting in silence. I guess that’s the standard procedure: They keep a woman with them so that the person being interrogated doesn’t get afraid and can feel comfortable. Probably written in the hand book.
It continued for two or three months with some breaks. They let me go to home, but also carefully gave the impression that I was being observed. There are desolate and odd places in the last floor of Istanbul Governor’s Office. No one can find your trace if you get lost. They took me there once or twice; in other times, we sat on cafeterias and kebab houses and “chatted”. A few times, we went to some places with a civilian car. Traffic policemen salute us.
In a day in January, they told that “our seniors will interrogate you”, in a hurry. We got in the car; they fastened my eyes and made me kneel. As far as understood, we crossed the bridge of Bosporus twice or three times. We entered into a dark house with a garden. Sometimes making me kneel and sometimes walk, they took me into a cell in the down floors without taking my bind off. They wanted me to take off my belt and shoelaces. They took everything in my pocket by saying “If you get out, we give them back”. The key word: “if”.
After waiting for two hours with fastened eyes, I was taken into interrogation. A big room without any windows. Me on a wooden chair in the middle, like in the movies, two interrogators against me. Apparently, one is in the role of bad cop, trying to provoke me with silly speech. “You are a member of ASALA, come on, confess, get benefit from the repentance law”. The other speaks rarely. However, as soon as you look at his face, you understand that he is an intelligent and domineering man. He has an authority not coming from his position, but rather from his personality. He speaks a refined Turkish. I thought that “There is class solidarity between me and this man, he won’t harm me.” I decided to be comfortable.
He asked me how many languages I know. He questioned each of them in detail. He asked me my travels, especially emphasized Latin America. He asked “Are you Armenian nationalist?” I told that I believe any kind of nationalism is stupidity by giving examples from Turkey. Atatürk? Loud and clear, I told that I don’t believe the so-called Ataturk nationalism is a unifying and humanist ideology. “Then, you are a freemason” he said. What a nuisance! If you are not a communist, then you are an ASALA member. If you are not an ASALA member, you’re a freemason. I swore that I’m not, trying to be convincing. With my scarce knowledge, I bragged about freemasons.
They said ok. Go and fulfill your military service duty. When you return we will see each other again. Naturally other problems occurred during the military service. I was taken into jail, and also took place in newspapers. When I returned, they neither called or asked about me.
*
Two years later, in a surprising fashion, I started to see photos of Hiram Abas in newspapers, who was deputy undersecretary of MİT (Turkish Intelligence Agency). I immediately recognized my cultured interrogator. In a few months, they shot him dead on day light in the street. The year is 1990.
I couldn’t understand what the name “Hiram” meant then, either. I understood it a few years later when I read the book of Mehmet Eymür. The interrogation in which I said “I won’t get out of here alive” was indeed a kind of job interview. Probably, they laughed a lot to my efforts of proving not to be a freemason.
Note from serüven: Father of Abas was known to be a freemason.
Second note: Mehmet Eymür was a former top official in MİT.
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