Orhan Pamuk

[Joseph]

The faceless, nameless defenders of 'Turkishness'
By MAUREEN FREELY

The Independent - United Kingdom; Dec 19, 2005

If I had to guess, I'd say that there were 200 of us milling outside
the courtroom where Orhan Pamuk was to have been tried this past
Friday morning. The Turkish intelligentsia was there in force "
at least, that part of the intelligentsia that campaigns for human
rights. There were more than a dozen European parliamentarians, and
journalists from all over the world. So at first we just ignored the
woman spouting fascist venom at the top of the stairs. But when the
defendant arrived and she rapped him on the head with a rolled-up
plastic folder, we could not help but wonder. Who'd let her in?

By now the 20-odd riot police were herding us towards the
courtroom. When the room filled to the brim and the door slammed shut,
the crowd kept moving forward. I almost got crushed. Meanwhile, at the
other end of the corridor, a group of nationalist fascist agitators had
formed a ring around a target 'traitor' while the riot police watched
blankly. After a nod from a man, said by some to be a plainclothes
policeman, they quietened down, only to move on to another target,
and then another.

Why were they allowed to stay among us? What to make of the nationalist
lawyers whose foaming representations against Orhan Pamuk took up
most of the 50-minute hearing? After asking the judge to clear the
room of meddling Europeans, one of them socked Denis McShane in the
eye. McShane and several other EU parliamentarians were assaulted
again later as they left the building. Then came the eggs and the
pelting of stones, which the Turkish press politely described as
having been thrown 'from a distance'.

Though the right-wing tabloids rejoiced that the 'fearful',
'white-faced' author and his meddling European friends got their
comeuppance, the more responsible newspapers expressed shame and
dismay at the mayhem, rightly saying that it had damaged Turkey's
image abroad, perhaps irreparably. A handful of columnists dared to
ask why security had failed so dismally, but no one was venturing
theories. There was no need: they'd got the message.

I did, too, so let me pass it on. This was not a security failure,
nor was it a case of a government or a judicial system 'shooting
itself in the foot': this was a carefully orchestrated attempt
to insult and intimidate Pamuk's supporters, and most especially
the EU parliamentarians who had come to observe his trial. It is no
accident that it happened in full view of the world media, just as it
is no accident that Turkey comes out of it looking like an old-style
authoritarian regime. For that is exactly what it is, and that is
how a certain very powerful lite would like it to remain.

The army has been the dominant force in the Turkish Republic for as
long as there has been a republic. It sees itself as the guardian of
Mustafa Kemal Ataturk's founding vision; if it feels a government is
straying from the Kemalist path, it feels duty bound to step in. In
1960, it did not just remove the then prime minister from office;
it had him and two of his ministers hanged.

Then it drafted a new constitution that greatly increased the
military's role in politics. Since then it has stepped in twice "
in 1971 and in 1980.

Turkey's current constitution is the one the generals drafted in the
early Eighties before stepping back out again. Both the penal code
that expired earlier this year and the supposedly EU-friendly code
that has replaced it put serious curbs on freedom of expression.

One of the main conditions of EU entry is that Turkey must cease to
be a 'tutelary' or 'guided' democracy. This means rolling back the
army's role in politics. If Turkey joins Europe, the military stands
to be the biggest loser.

For certain patriotic and well-placed militarists, EU entry is not
just a threat to their power base but an out-and-out betrayal of
Kemalism as they understand it.

We are not to know if these faceless, nameless parties are in touch
with the prosecutors who have now charged more than 50 writers,
editors, and academics for publicly insulting the judiciary, the
army, or Turkishness itself. But there are many new and dark rumours
about the 'deep state', the network of security forces, intelligence
operatives and fascist paramilitaries that many view to be the driving
force of Turkish politics. After a recent bungled bombing of a Kurdish
bookstore in a city in the south-east, there are even a few shreds
of proof.

Europe is not the Turkish army's sole preoccupation. There is the
deepening crisis in Cyprus, the prospect of an autonomous Kurdish
state in northern Iraq, and the strain in its relations with its
longtime bankroller, the US.

Hemmed in on all sides by troublesome and meddling foreigners, it
may be losing its patience.

The writer is Orhan Pamuk's English translator

[Ixtanbul]

Novelist denies 'genocide' claim

Agencies in Ankara
Monday October 17, 2005
The Guardian

Orhan Pamuk, a best-selling Turkish novelist facing trial for speaking out about the 1915 mass killings of Armenians, moved at the weekend to soften his controversial remarks, insisting that he did not describe the episode as genocide.

Pamuk could face up to three years in prison for reportedly telling a Swiss newspaper that "30,000 Kurds and 1 million Armenians were killed in these lands and nobody but me dares to talk about it". But on Saturday night, he went on CNN-Turk television to say: "I did not say, we Turks killed this many Armenians. I did not use the word 'genocide'."

Armenians say that 1.5 million Armenians were killed by Ottoman Turks, which Armenia and several other countries recognise as a genocide. Turkey denies the genocide claim, saying that the death toll is inflated and that Armenians were killed in civil unrest as the Ottoman empire collapsed. Asked about the numbers of deaths he referred to in his newspaper interview, Pamuk said that they were "spontaneous remarks".
His comments on the Kurds were no less controversial, referring to Turkey's 20-year conflict with Kurdish guerrillas seeking autonomy, branded a terrorist group by the US and EU. "There are martyred Turkish soldiers among those 30,000 to 35,000 killed people. Let's express our respect to them," Pamuk said, complaining that he had become a victim of a "defamation campaign".

The case could embarrass Turkey as it seeks to demonstrate to Europe that its laws and practices are capable of meeting European standards. The EU has said it will be watching when the case starts on December 16.

Pamuk's books, which include the internationally acclaimed Snow and My Name is Red, have been translated into more than 20 languages and the novelist has received many international awards.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/turkey/story/0,12700,1593864,00.html

[Gavur]

Ekistanbul-You forgot for some reason to add
Since this article Pamuk has stated he stands by every word he said
sAnd so does the European Union
so there!
Take your Eskistanbul and stick it where the sun don't shine!

[Gavur]

Crime unpardonable

Turkish novelist finds truth too hot to handle
WRITE HAND AJAZ-UL-HAQUE


22 ZEEQUAD 1426 AH SRINAGAR SUNDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2005

http://www.greaterkashmir.com/full_story.asp?ItemID=13608&cat=17

Orhan Pamuk is in the dock. One of the most distinguished novelists of Europe, the author of some widely read and translated novels Snow, My name is Red, The White Castle, Pamuk strikes with something new. The Turkish intellectual is accused of ‘vilifying’ his own nation. Uncovering the bitter truth of history he holds his own country responsible for large scale killings in the past. He refers to the mowing down of men in Kurdish regions of Turkey in the 1980s and 1990s and to the massacre of Armenians during the First World War. This has made his fellow countrymen boil with rage. The crime of ‘denigrating’ Turkey can cost him very dear. May be an exile or may be a three year long confinement thus reviving the memory of Dostoevsky and Cervantes.
Pamuk is no different from all such ‘criminals’ who live in Rome and nourish a desire to fight Pope. His crime is worse than murder. He loves to hold a mirror in front of you and gathers courage to say, ‘see yourself’. His daring intellectual adventures even have jeopardized Turkey’s entry to the European Union. So just by casting a blow, he has fluttered too many dove-coats at once. By doing something which he as a loyal son of soil perhaps should not have done, Pamuk is being hauled over the coals. He may be convicted in any court of the law, sentenced or even killed for his bad verses. But for his admirers the world over, for the upholders of an unadulterated truth, for the lovers of freedom and fiarplay, certain questions are left unanswered. We need to redefine loyalty. Some universal concepts getting corrupted in the modern day political lexicon. Principles mean policies. Truth is truth only when it goes well with you. Otherwise not. No more a concept now, but a construct with indeterminate contours that keep changing to the convenience of its makers. In this context, if Pamuk wants to present facts as naked as they are, should he be hanged for this ‘blasphemy’.



Does being faithful to a nation mean a deliberate concealing of historical wrongs? Is commitment to a cause subservient to some shibboleths, some self-coined slogans of superiority, some sweet delusions of grandeur? Are facts to be seen through them or above them? If a Pamuk dares to call history in question, does he join the rank of conspirators by playing Brutus out to kill his own Caesar? Is a massacre complete in definition with reference to particular geography? Does genocide mean genocide only when they do it? Is violence violence when done from the other side? If yes, we will have to rewrite the entire history of war and peace. That way we are making ground for an ideological relativism, where sins turn virtues when it’s me. Demons going berserk when it’s your turn.



We can’t debate here about the historicity and the truthfulness of Pamuk’s thesis. Who knows the novelist wants to borrow his characters from the past and for that he experiments with his own nation as the landscape of his another fictional treatise. But the point is different. If Turkey really has blood at her hands and a man goes out to make others know about it, it’s no sedition. He is one of those illegitimate children of history whose mere birth is a war cry against the lords of the times. Pamuk is a self assured man, quite confident about what he has done or what he is going against. ‘I am for those who cannot speak for themselves, whose anger is never heard, and whose words are suppressed’.



Pamuk would have been a favorite name for those who now are baying for his blood. Till then he had gone on exposing the stinks of one class of people. An irreverence against religiosity of a few, a denigration against the political bluff masters, a defiance against the enemies had won him a huge following far and wide. But that meant one set of evils which he spoke so fiercely against. Now turning around and doing the same with the other group has got him downgraded from hero to villain. Istanmbul is all fire as Pamuk could not control the fire in his belly.



Pamuk is a name. Persecution is a phenomenon. In this book of political relativism , lessons are absolute. Manufacturing lies is an old story, manufacturing truth is an honest attempt to give dishonesty a new colour and flavour. The same approach has rendered many sincerest standards bearers of some historical resistance movements blind to everything else. Blinders are too big to be thrown away. They want to see facts not as they are, but as they should be. Accepting a bare but bitter truth about our self, our doings, own methods means compromise, even treason. Independence of mind equals breach of faith. That is how we see leaders turning sponsors as truth is a product owned and privatized by them and them only. Those who differ, suffer. Those who dare, bear.

[Gavur]

Independent Chooses Pamuk's 'istanbul' Book As One Of Five Best Books Of 2005

Published: 12/30/2005
Latest wire from AFP

LONDON - The Independent newspaper showed Turkish novelist Orhan Pamuk's ''Istanbul'' book as one of the best books of 2005 on Friday.
Pamuk's book was ranked the fifth among the best five books of 2005 by The Independent behind Julian Barnes's book ''Artur&Geroge'', Rupert Thomson's book ''Divided Kingdom'', Hilary Mantel's book ''Beyond Black'' and Simon Schama's book ''Rough Crossing''.

Commenting on Pamuk, Body Tonkin, an Independent columnist, said that ''Britain's literati rallied to support one of the world's greatest living authors, Orhan Pamuk'' defending the view that the suit filed against Pamuk would negatively affect Turkey's EU bid.

[Gavur]

Orhan Pamuk Threatened with More 'Harm' as Hackers Seize His Site

Orhan Pamuk Threatened with More 'Harm' as Hackers Seize His Site

ISTANBUL (Combined Sources)--Zaman daily reports that Turkish writer Orhan
Pamuk's internet site has been hacked by Turkish hackers, who say that if
Pamuk
does not change his position on the Armenian genocide, "they will do more
harm." According to the hackers, the "cigicigi.com" virus has seized materials
from the original site, www.orhanpamuk.net.
Pamuk faced up to three years in prison for saying to a Swiss newspaper in
February that Turkey is unwilling to deal with painful episodes in its
treatment of the country's Armenian minority or its continuing problems with
its 12 million Kurdish citizens.
But his December 16, 2005, trial for insulting Turkey's national identity,
was
quickly halted when the presiding judge decided the court would need the
approval of the Justice Ministry for the trial to proceed. If the ministry
decides to proceed, the next hearing will be February 7, 2006.
In the meantime, Turkey's political establishment must decide whether it is
prepared to continue with a trial that is already damaging the country's case
for EU membership. The European Union and human rights groups have harshly
criticized the case as an attack on free speech.

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[Gavur]

Spoiling The Taste Of Turkish Delights

Robert Fulford, National Post

National Post, Canada
Jan 24 2006

Orhan Pamuk faces persecution for speaking plainly about his homeland

The government in Istanbul dropped its charges against author Orhan
Pamuk for "insulting Turkishness" on Sunday.

The most admired novelist in Turkey, Orhan Pamuk, says in Istanbul:
Memories of a City (Faber), that it's only natural to worry about what
foreigners and strangers think of us. But when this anxiety reaches
the point where it causes pain, it can cloud our view of reality and
become "more important than reality itself." Opinion acquires the
emotional force of violence.

Pamuk wasn't writing about his own life, but in the last year he's
been a victim of that psychological process and the humiliation it
produces. For months the Turkish government prosecuted him for a
Soviet-style crime, defaming the nation. His offence was to utter
what many consider the truth about atrocities committed by modern
Turkey. Last February he told a Swiss newspaper: "Thirty thousand
Kurds and a million Armenians were killed in Turkey. Almost no one
dares speak but me, and the nationalists hate me for that."

He was charged under a section of the criminal code ("insulting
Turkishness") that allows for sentences up to three years. The trial
began in December, was suspended until February, and was cancelled
on Sunday when the justice ministry finally dropped the charges.

In the meantime, the great national novelist stood at the centre of
national controversy. Turkey wants to be admitted to the European
Union but many politicians in the EU have argued that a country rigid
enough to charge Pamuk for his opinions was hardly European enough
to meet EU standards.

What could Turkey do? Let Pamuk's insults stand and invite further
defamation from other intellectuals, perhaps even an unfettered
discussion of the Armenian genocide (on which the first academic
conference in Turkey was held last September)? Or continue to persecute
him and perhaps be shut out of the EU? Pamuk's nationalist enemies
managed to keep his prosecution case alive for months.

The case was a harsh reminder to Pamuk that he's a serious artist
in a country that's still just nominally democratic. He considers
himself part of the West because his literary influences are European
and he's often endorsed by European critics, readers and publishers.

Yet the prosecution pulled him back into a pre-modern swamp of Turkish
pride and shame.

These events cast fresh light on his charming and absorbing book.

Combine the facts of the criminal case with the feelings delicately
expressed in Istanbul: Memories of a City and you understand that
the painful tension in his life, and Turkey's, remains the struggle
between East and West.

Pamuk's generation of middle-class Turks took for granted the
Westernization program put in place by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk between
1922 and his death in 1938.

A general-turned-dictator, Kemal determined to modernize the remnants
of the Ottoman Empire.

He was hardly a pious Muslim; in fact, it's said that alcohol,
prohibited by Islam, killed him. He withdrew Islam's status as state
religion and decreed that men could no longer wear the fez or women
the veil. He gave women legal equality with men. He installed the
Latin alphabet in place of the Arabic and ordered Turks to adopt
Western-style surnames; for himself he picked Ataturk, meaning Father
of the Turk. Many Muslims fought him, and still fight his successors.

Pamuk shows no particular affection for Kemal's Westernization, which
he sees as culturally reductive and stunting, an erasure of the past
with nothing "to fill the spiritual void." In his own family's life
religion was reduced to "a strange and sometimes amusing set of rules
on which the lower classes depended." It was like background music.

Although 95% of Turks were Muslims, Pamuk's relatives appear to have
seen Islam as the superstition of the poor, to be tolerated at best;
what he learned of it came mainly from the servants. His family was
well-to-do for a time, thanks to a railroad-building grandfather whose
fortune was being gradually depleted by the incompetence of Pamuk's
father and uncle. The extended family lived together in a five-storey
apartment building, so that Pamuk's quarrelsome uncles, aunts, and
cousins could mingle intimately and torment each other with vicious
gossip every day of the year. Even so, Pamuk retains happy memories;
he's good on minor but exotic details, like his grandmother drinking
sweet tea with a piece of hard goat's cheese in her mouth. Pamuk's
family had to move elsewhere for a while, but today, aged 53, he's
back in the old building that they named Pamuk Apartments.

At Istanbul, Europe meets Asia, the dividing line between the two
continents being the 27km Bosphorus Strait, visible in the old days
from Pamuk's home. Today an Islamist parliament wants simultaneously to
protect Turkish national pride from people like Pamuk (he's only one of
several writers who have been charged with having "publicly denigrated
Turkish identity") and simultaneously achieve prosperity in Europe.

Pamuk's own background contains a similar conflict. His people,
the children of Ataturk, were Western but not Western. As a child
he noticed that every apartment in the family building contained
locked glass cabinets with silver sets, snuff boxes, and crystal
glasses, none of which were ever touched. There were unused desks with
mother-of-pearl inlay, and Art-Nouveau screens behind which nothing
was hidden. He remembers looking at the medical books of his doctor
uncle, untouched by human hands since their owner emigrated to the
United States 20 years before.

He began to see these as rooms furnished not for the living but
for the dead, shrines to a fading ideal. They were museums of
modernization, designed to demonstrate "to a hypothetical visitor
that the householders were Westernized."

These little monuments to cosmopolitan intentions embodied the
melancholy and wistful sense of failure that Pamuk felt and still
feels in Istanbul, where past glories have long since departed and
contemporary existence makes little sense. Everyone knew Westernization
as freedom from the laws of Islam, he says. No one understood what
else it was good for. Apparently, they still haven't found out.

Every family had a piano, the one essential piece of furniture, but in
all the years of his childhood and youth he never heard anyone play. In
each apartment it stood as a purely symbolic object, a sign that the
residents were Western enough to own this most European instrument,
even if it was so silent that as a little boy Pamuk believed that
its sole purpose was to display family photographs.

[Gavur]

One Charge against Pamuk Dropped

ANKARA (Combined Sources)--Turkish state prosecutors have dropped one of two criminal charges against best-selling author Orhan Pamuk.

The charge for allegedly insulting Turkey's armed forces was dropped, but Pamuk still faces charges that he insulted "Turkishness," lawyers said.

Nationalist lawyers had petitioned prosecutors to file criminal charges against Pamuk for reportedly telling a German newspaper, Die Welt, in October this year that the military threatened and prevented democratization in Turkey.

Prosecutors on Thursday decided there were no grounds to try Pamuk for insulting the military, said nationalist lawyer Kemal Kerincsiz, who had petitioned the prosecutors asking for Pamuk's trial.

Kerincsiz said he would appeal the decision on Friday.

"It is of course not possible for the prosecutors to make a sound decision under so much pressure," said Kerincsiz. "We've come to the point where we're no longer able to protect our national values. Where will it all end?"

Kerincsiz said the army was portrayed as the enemy of democracy, which he called a "grave insult."

Pamuk reportedly told Die Welt: "I don't see the (ruling Islamic-rooted) Justice and Development Party as a threat to Turkish democracy. Unfortunately, the threat comes from the army which sometimes prevents democratic development."

The novelist still faces trial on a charge under a law which makes insulting Turkey a crime. The charges stem from a Swiss newspaper report in February that quoted him as saying, "30,000 Kurds and 1 million Armenians were killed in these lands, and nobody but me dares to talk about it."

European officials have criticized Turkey for putting Pamuk on trial for the "insulting Turkishness" charge and have called on the country to do more to protect freedom of expression.

Brussels has described the case as a litmus test of Turkey's European Union membership credentials.

The trial was halted the day it began, when an Istanbul judge said the case needed the justice ministry's approval. It was adjourned until February 7.

The justice ministry's permission is being sought because of a dispute over whether Pamuk is to be tried under Turkey's old penal code or a recent, revised version.

Pamuk's lawyers have argued that he must be tried under the old code, requiring the justice minister to give a ruling.

Pamuk is being tried under the new Article 301, which makes it illegal to insult the republic, parliament, or any organs of state. A guilty verdict can carry a prison sentence of up to three years.

Pamuk has the highest profile among a group of more than 60 writers and publishers facing similar charges in Turkey.

On Wednesday, Foreign Minister Abdullah Gul acknowledged that charges brought against Pamuk had tarnished the country's image and said laws that limit freedom of expression may be changed.

It was the first time the government indicated it could amend laws making it a crime to insult Turkey.

But the government would rather wait and see the outcome of charges brought against Pamuk and dozens of other people before moving to amend them, Gul said.

Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan also assured that laws could be changed if there are serious flaws.

"We should not hurry. This is a new law, let's see how it works, what the outcomes are," Erdogan said in reference to the law used to put Pamuk on trial for insulting "Turkishness."

"If there are serious problems, then of course the legislature will sit down, make a new assessment and take a new decision."

In an interview published on Thursday, Pamuk told daily Aksam newspaper that the government should carry out real--not cosmetic--reforms to expand freedom of expression if it really wants to become a member of the EU.

"For a country to enter the EU, there has to be full respect of minority rights, freedom of thought and expression," Pamuk said. "If you drag your feet and make cosmetic changes... then this won't do. To believe that you would need to be a child."

http://www.asbarez.com/frontpage.htm

[Gavur]

Orhan Pamuk: A Brave Voice in a Troubled Country

Letters from an Old Empire: Orhan Pamuk: A Brave Voice in a Troubled Country



[21 March 2007]

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/columns/article/31914/orhan-pamuk-a-brave-voice-in-a-troubled-country/

Caught in the cultural clash between east and west, Pamuk struggles to balance his political beliefs and astonishing international literary success in a way modern Turkey can accept.
by Michael Paterakis


Sometimes fate orders strange situations. For Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk, perhaps this one extraordinary experience was a moment of triumph. The very same day he was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, the French Parliament passed a resolution to make denial of the 1915 Armenian genocide a crime. Just one day was enough for Pamuk to see his work receive worldwide acclaim and his politics views outside his writing become justified.

The Turkish novelist took the center stage of global attention thanks to his uncommon lyrical style, yes, but also due to his uncompromising politics. His work was already well regarded in literary circles worldwide prior to his unhesitating remarks during an interview in February 2005 with Swiss weekly publication Das Magazin regarding the killings of Kurds and Armenians in the beginning of the 20th century:

Thirty thousand Kurds and a million Armenians were killed in these lands and nobody dares to talk about it,” Pamuk stated in Das Magazin, explaining later in an interview with the BBC that his objective was to defend freedom of speech: “What happened to the Ottoman Armenians in 1915 was a major thing that was hidden from the Turkish nation; it was a taboo. But we have to be able to talk about the past.

This is a fearless declaration of his stance about truth, considering that many journalists and writers in Turkey in the past have been imprisoned for expressing their opinions on such culturally sensitive issues. Indeed, a few have paid with their lives for their decision to come forward and talk about this matter. The most recent example is the assassination of Hrant Dink, a Turkish newspaper editor of Armenian decent, on 19 January 2007.

Another well-known Turkish novelist and a close friend of Dink’s, Elif Shafak, wrote of the editor of the weekly newspaper Agos in an obituary published in Time magazine, ‘Ode to a Murdered Turkish Editor’: “Tuesday, Jan. 23. The day we buried you. ‘Yes,’ you once said, ‘we Turkish Armenians do have a claim to the soil of this country, but not to take it away, as some accuse us of secretly plotting, but to be buried deep under it.’ Your funeral was spectacular. Tens of thousands marched. They carried signs that said, WE ARE ALL HRANT, WE ARE ALL ARMENIANS.”

The official position of the Turkish state is that the Armenian Genocide never took place. Pamuk was retroactively prosecuted for his comments, under a penal code introduced in June 2005, which states: “A person who, being a Turk, explicitly insults the Republic or Turkish Grand National Assembly, shall be imposed to a penalty of imprisonment for a term of six months to three years.” Pamuk and Shafak, who have both spoken publicly of the Armenian genocide, managed to have their charges of “insulting Turkishness” acquitted.

Further demonstrating how complicated Turkey’s attitude regarding the Armenian genocide is, Shafak acknowledged in the Time piece that Dink wanted public dialogue about the issue but not at the expense of free speech: “...you fervently opposed the Armenian genocide bill approved by the French Parliament, which would make it a crime to say that the events of 1915 were not a genocide, because, first and foremost, you believed in freedom of expression.” While Pamuk, Shafak and Dink have each attempted to foster discourse on this issue, Dink differed from the others in his non-support of the French genocide bill.

For Turkey, discussing publicly the genocide issue is both taboo, as Pamuk pointed out in Das Magazin, and a major insult for the State. However, few people in the Western world (excluding some professionals like diplomats, professors, and journalists) can truly realize the importance of Pamuk’s statement for the Turkish people. It wouldn’t be unfair if I claimed that this giant nation is two-faced, or better, is struggling between two faces: its modernized side versus its traditional side. Doubtlessly Turkey is the most modernized Muslim country, being a parliamentary democracy, yet its record of suppressing public dissent invokes concern in the European Union, where Turkey has applied to become a member.

David Hotham, a longtime London Times correspondent, in his book published in 1972, simply called The Turks, wrote what in my opinion is the best description of the fellow countrymen of Pamuk:

The Turk is unusually full of contradictions. Not only has he East and West in him, European and Asian, but an intense pride combined with an acute inferiority complex; a deep xenophobia with an overwhelming friendliness and hospitality to strangers; a profound need for flattery with an absolute disregard for what anybody thinks of him.

Many Europeans are against the possibility of seeing the Turks become full members of their Union because of this rift between the traditional and modern sides of Turkey. The divide between old and new casts doubt on Turkey’s stance with regard to free speech as well as reinforcing concerns about human rights. And it appears that Turkish lawmakers offer plenty of pretexts that put more pressure on the country’s back. Turkey has a long way to go (and many civic liberties to give) before transforming itself into the fully modernized and democratic state the European Union would consider admitting but unfortunately, cases as Pamuk’s can cause greater setbacks to this challenge with the publicity they earn.

Pamuk was born in 1952 in the showcase city of his country, Istanbul. He studied architecture at the Istanbul Technical University due to pressure to take over the family business but soon he realized that his dream was to become a full-time writer. He subsequently graduated from the Institute of Journalism at the University of Istanbul in 1976 before becoming a visiting scholar at Columbia University in New York from 1985 to 1988. During that same period, he spent time as a visiting fellow at the University of Iowa.

His early novels soon won critical appraises and literary awards. Over time, Pamuk developed a writing style that revealed a deep love for his birthplace and for Turkey in general. His first work, titled Cevdet Bey ve Oğulları (translated as Mr. Cevdet and His Sons), was the story of three generations of a wealthy Istanbul family living in the same district where Pamuk was born, Nişantaşi.

Lyricism is a critical component of Pamuk’s novels. Contrary to how it may appear nowadays, Pamuk is not a political writer and never actually has been interested in writing mainly about politics. What he wanted to do when he talked about the Kurdish and the Armenian genocide was to make an effort to bring Turkey to terms with its history and reality. What Pamuk unintentionally achieved with this remark was to have his name brought up in consideration of the Nobel Prize in Literature.

His win was a surprise not because he didn’t deserve the award, but because writers such as Philip Roth, Milan Kundera, and Umberto Eco, to name a few, are felt by some in the literary community to deserve a nod from the Swedish Academy. Pamuk is one of the youngest people ever awarded with the prize. His victory is a bit like Martin Scorsese’s Academy Award win this year: deserved but not based entirely on his single, most recent work.

Pamuk’s personal challenge is to bridge the gap between the traditional face of Turkey he loves and writes about with the side that the contemporary world might be willing to accept. Most of his writing has explored his country’s Ottoman Empire history rather than issues of modern politico-mixed-religious extremes. The autobiographic Istanbul: Memories and the City (2006) recollects images from Turkey’s recent past and Pamuk’s own life. On the other hand, the novel The White Castle (1985) offers a vivid description of the Ottoman Empire during the 17th century.

Turkey is literally cut off from its past. After the defeat and the dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire in World War I, Kemal Ataturk—the ‘father of Turks’, as his name is translated—created a new republic solely for Turks (minorities like Kurds or Armenians faced heavy persecution), based on the organization of the modern western states. One of his early undertakings was to ban many Ottoman traditions, including outlawing religious practices like those performed by the dervish sects. But his most important amendment was the introduction of the Latin alphabet. As a result, Turks cannot read their own classics, formerly written in the Arabic alphabet, without translation.

Despite Pamuk’s well-meaning attempts to share Turkey’s rich history with readers in the 21st century, various factions find reason to reproach Pamuk for betraying his Turkish background. For example, the nationalist Turks, infected with Kemal Ataturk’s dogma, accuse him of being too religious, while for the Islamists he is yet another blasphemous western-style writer. The truth lies somewhere in the middle. Pamuk is in love with the Ottoman past of his country in which religion was an important factor but he also admires democratic values such as the separation between religion and the state.

Although he is a bestselling novelist in Turkey—in every corner of Istanbul you can find pirated editions of his books—when the news of his Nobel award broke and made headlines around the globe, journalist Fatih Altaili questioned, in his article at the popular Turkish daily Sabah, whether: “We should be happy about it or sad”, adding: “Turkey cannot be happy about this award, even if it should, because it can’t see Pamuk as its own man.” The same reaction could be seen in many parts of the Turkish press.

Pamuk’s narrative style is rather foreign for Turkey. My Name is Red (2001), for example, is narrated in part by such unusual characters as a corpse, a dog, and a gold coin, but each manages to move the story forward in linear fashion. Influenced by great western writers, Pamuk doesn’t hesitate to introduce postmodern motifs that portray space and time as malleable entities which often bend and change; novel elements to the writing tradition of his country. Yet every single new book he has published has sold out in just few days. Pamuk’s literary success would ultimately seem to be due to this ongoing and divided love affair of modern Turks between the past and the present of their country, between tradition and modernity, between loyalty to Turkey and interest in the world outside.

Controversial for his political views advocating the need to talk about mistakes the state of Turkey has made, no matter what opinions exist about his work, Pamuk has used his fame as a platform to speak out regarding his country’s problems and policies. Admired and deplored in turn by his fellow Turks, Pamuk’s public image mirrors that of contemporary Turkey. And he is not alone among public figures within Turkey calling for open discussion regarding Turkey’s past—as well as its future.

Michael Paterakis is a freelance writer and a college undergraduate based in Athens, Greece. He has reported extensively on a series of cultural and sports issues and for the past three years (since 2004) he has been the Goal.com Greece Correspondent.

[Joseph]

LETTERS FROM AN OLD EMPIRE: ORHAN PAMUK: A BRAVE VOICE IN A TROUBLED COUNTRY
by Michael Paterakis

PopMatters, IL
March 21 2007

Sometimes fate orders strange situations. For Turkish writer Orhan
Pamuk, perhaps this one extraordinary experience was a moment
of triumph. The very same day he was awarded the Nobel Prize for
literature, the French Parliament passed a resolution to make denial
of the 1915 Armenian genocide a crime. Just one day was enough for
Pamuk to see his work receive worldwide acclaim and his politics
views outside his writing become justified.

The Turkish novelist took the center stage of global attention thanks
to his uncommon lyrical style, yes, but also due to his uncompromising
politics. His work was already well regarded in literary circles
worldwide prior to his unhesitating remarks during an interview in
February 2005 with Swiss weekly publication Das Magazin regarding the
killings of Kurds and Armenians in the beginning of the 20th century:

Thirty thousand Kurds and a million Armenians were killed in these
lands and nobody dares to talk about it," Pamuk stated in Das Magazin,
explaining later in an interview with the BBC that his objective was
to defend freedom of speech: "What happened to the Ottoman Armenians
in 1915 was a major thing that was hidden from the Turkish nation;
it was a taboo. But we have to be able to talk about the past.

This is a fearless declaration of his stance about truth, considering
that many journalists and writers in Turkey in the past have been
imprisoned for expressing their opinions on such culturally sensitive
issues. Indeed, a few have paid with their lives for their decision
to come forward and talk about this matter. The most recent example
is the assassination of Hrant Dink, a Turkish newspaper editor of
Armenian decent, on 19 January 2007.

Another well-known Turkish novelist and a close friend of Dink's, Elif
Shafak, wrote of the editor of the weekly newspaper Agos in an obituary
published in Time magazine, 'Ode to a Murdered Turkish Editor':
"Tuesday, Jan. 23. The day we buried you. 'Yes,' you once said,
'we Turkish Armenians do have a claim to the soil of this country,
but not to take it away, as some accuse us of secretly plotting,
but to be buried deep under it.' Your funeral was spectacular. Tens
of thousands marched. They carried signs that said, WE ARE ALL HRANT,
WE ARE ALL ARMENIANS."

The official position of the Turkish state is that the Armenian
Genocide never took place. Pamuk was retroactively prosecuted for his
comments, under a penal code introduced in June 2005, which states:
"A person who, being a Turk, explicitly insults the Republic or Turkish
Grand National Assembly, shall be imposed to a penalty of imprisonment
for a term of six months to three years." Pamuk and Shafak, who have
both spoken publicly of the Armenian genocide, managed to have their
charges of "insulting Turkishness" acquitted.

Further demonstrating how complicated Turkey's attitude regarding the
Armenian genocide is, Shafak acknowledged in the Time piece that Dink
wanted public dialogue about the issue but not at the expense of free
speech: "...you fervently opposed the Armenian genocide bill approved
by the French Parliament, which would make it a crime to say that
the events of 1915 were not a genocide, because, first and foremost,
you believed in freedom of expression." While Pamuk, Shafak and Dink
have each attempted to foster discourse on this issue, Dink differed
from the others in his non-support of the French genocide bill.

For Turkey, discussing publicly the genocide issue is both taboo,
as Pamuk pointed out in Das Magazin, and a major insult for the State.

However, few people in the Western world (excluding some professionals
like diplomats, professors, and journalists) can truly realize the
importance of Pamuk's statement for the Turkish people.

It wouldn't be unfair if I claimed that this giant nation is two-faced,
or better, is struggling between two faces: its modernized side versus
its traditional side. Doubtlessly Turkey is the most modernized
Muslim country, being a parliamentary democracy, yet its record of
suppressing public dissent invokes concern in the European Union,
where Turkey has applied to become a member.

David Hotham, a longtime London Times correspondent, in his book
published in 1972, simply called The Turks, wrote what in my opinion
is the best description of the fellow countrymen of Pamuk:

The Turk is unusually full of contradictions. Not only has he East and
West in him, European and Asian, but an intense pride combined with
an acute inferiority complex; a deep xenophobia with an overwhelming
friendliness and hospitality to strangers; a profound need for flattery
with an absolute disregard for what anybody thinks of him.

Many Europeans are against the possibility of seeing the Turks
become full members of their Union because of this rift between the
traditional and modern sides of Turkey. The divide between old and
new casts doubt on Turkey's stance with regard to free speech as
well as reinforcing concerns about human rights. And it appears that
Turkish lawmakers offer plenty of pretexts that put more pressure
on the country's back. Turkey has a long way to go (and many civic
liberties to give) before transforming itself into the fully modernized
and democratic state the European Union would consider admitting but
unfortunately, cases as Pamuk's can cause greater setbacks to this
challenge with the publicity they earn.

Pamuk was born in 1952 in the showcase city of his country, Istanbul.

He studied architecture at the Istanbul Technical University due to
pressure to take over the family business but soon he realized that
his dream was to become a full-time writer. He subsequently graduated
from the Institute of Journalism at the University of Istanbul in
1976 before becoming a visiting scholar at Columbia University in
New York from 1985 to 1988. During that same period, he spent time
as a visiting fellow at the University of Iowa.

His early novels soon won critical appraises and literary awards.

Over time, Pamuk developed a writing style that revealed a deep love
for his birthplace and for Turkey in general. His first work, titled
Cevdet Bey ve Ođullarý (translated as Mr. Cevdet and His Sons), was
the story of three generations of a wealthy Istanbul family living
in the same district where Pamuk was born, Niţantaţi.

Lyricism is a critical component of Pamuk's novels. Contrary to how
it may appear nowadays, Pamuk is not a political writer and never
actually has been interested in writing mainly about politics. What
he wanted to do when he talked about the Kurdish and the Armenian
genocide was to make an effort to bring Turkey to terms with its
history and reality. What Pamuk unintentionally achieved with this
remark was to have his name brought up in consideration of the Nobel
Prize in Literature.

His win was a surprise not because he didn't deserve the award, but
because writers such as Philip Roth, Milan Kundera, and Umberto Eco,
to name a few, are felt by some in the literary community to deserve a
nod from the Swedish Academy. Pamuk is one of the youngest people ever
awarded with the prize. His victory is a bit like Martin Scorsese's
Academy Award win this year: deserved but not based entirely on his
single, most recent work.

Pamuk's personal challenge is to bridge the gap between the traditional
face of Turkey he loves and writes about with the side that the
contemporary world might be willing to accept. Most of his writing has
explored his country's Ottoman Empire history rather than issues of
modern politico-mixed-religious extremes. The autobiographic Istanbul:
Memories and the City (2006) recollects images from Turkey's recent
past and Pamuk's own life. On the other hand, the novel The White
Castle (1985) offers a vivid description of the Ottoman Empire during
the 17th century.

Turkey is literally cut off from its past. After the defeat and the
dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire in World War I, Kemal Ataturk-the
'father of Turks', as his name is translated-created a new republic
solely for Turks (minorities like Kurds or Armenians faced heavy
persecution), based on the organization of the modern western states.

One of his early undertakings was to ban many Ottoman traditions,
including outlawing religious practices like those performed by the
dervish sects. But his most important amendment was the introduction of
the Latin alphabet. As a result, Turks cannot read their own classics,
formerly written in the Arabic alphabet, without translation.

Despite Pamuk's well-meaning attempts to share Turkey's rich history
with readers in the 21st century, various factions find reason to
reproach Pamuk for betraying his Turkish background. For example,
the nationalist Turks, infected with Kemal Ataturk's dogma, accuse
him of being too religious, while for the Islamists he is yet another
blasphemous western-style writer. The truth lies somewhere in the
middle. Pamuk is in love with the Ottoman past of his country in which
religion was an important factor but he also admires democratic values
such as the separation between religion and the state.

Although he is a bestselling novelist in Turkey-in every corner
of Istanbul you can find pirated editions of his books-when the
news of his Nobel award broke and made headlines around the globe,
journalist Fatih Altaili questioned, in his article at the popular
Turkish daily Sabah, whether: "We should be happy about it or sad",
adding: "Turkey cannot be happy about this award, even if it should,
because it can't see Pamuk as its own man." The same reaction could
be seen in many parts of the Turkish press.

Pamuk's narrative style is rather foreign for Turkey. My Name is Red
(2001), for example, is narrated in part by such unusual characters
as a corpse, a dog, and a gold coin, but each manages to move the
story forward in linear fashion. Influenced by great western writers,
Pamuk doesn't hesitate to introduce postmodern motifs that portray
space and time as malleable entities which often bend and change;
novel elements to the writing tradition of his country. Yet every
single new book he has published has sold out in just few days.

Pamuk's literary success would ultimately seem to be due to this
ongoing and divided love affair of modern Turks between the past
and the present of their country, between tradition and modernity,
between loyalty to Turkey and interest in the world outside.

Controversial for his political views advocating the need to talk about
mistakes the state of Turkey has made, no matter what opinions exist
about his work, Pamuk has used his fame as a platform to speak out
regarding his country's problems and policies. Admired and deplored
in turn by his fellow Turks, Pamuk's public image mirrors that of
contemporary Turkey. And he is not alone among public figures within
Turkey calling for open discussion regarding Turkey's past-as well
as its future.

Michael Paterakis is a freelance writer and a college undergraduate
based in Athens, Greece. He has reported extensively on a series of
cultural and sports issues and for the past three years (since 2004)
he has been the Goal.com Greece Correspondent.

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/columns/article/31914/orhan-pamuk-a-brave-voice-in-a-troubled-country/