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Trabzon- Very Telling
Killing brings the dark side of Turkish town into the light
NICHOLAS BIRCH
Special to The Globe and Mail
TRABZON, TURKEY -- Ask Mehmet Akcelep the first thing he thought when he heard that the Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink had been killed, and he answers without hesitation: "I bet that's the work of a local man."
Like the other inhabitants of Trabzon, the biggest city on Turkey's eastern Black Sea coast, Mr. Akcelep, a local councillor, has grown used to seeing his home town in the news for the wrong reasons.
It was here, last February, that a 16-year-old youth shot and killed an Italian priest in the local Catholic church.
It was here, in May, 2005, that four students distributing leaflets about prison conditions narrowly escaped death at the hands of a 2,000-strong lynch mob, first of a growing national trend.
Mr. Akcelep's fears were justified. Arrested Saturday on an overnight coach and accused of shooting Mr. Dink, 17-year-old high-school dropout and amateur soccer player Ogun Samast turned out to be from Pelitli, a suburb of Trabzon.
"I said my prayers and then I shot [Mr. Dink]," Mr. Samast reportedly told interrogators. "I feel no remorse. He said Turkish blood was dirty blood."
Four others were arrested, including fellow Trabzon resident Yasin Hayal, 26, who reportedly incited Mr. Samast to kill and gave him money and the gun. As he was led into court yesterday, Mr. Hayal yelled to reporters, "Orhan Pamuk should come to his senses" -- an apparent threat to the Nobel-winning Turkish novelist who has also raised the ire of Turkish nationalists.
The comments are hardly surprising. Nationalism has always been a fundamental ingredient of Turkish society, and has been a growing force in Trabzon.
"What you have here is a headless monster, a nursery for potential assassins," says Omer Faruk Altuntas, a lawyer and local head of a small left-wing party.
What is it that has turned Trabzon, a city that 100 years ago had local newspapers in Turkish, Greek, Armenian and French, into a symbol of what one Turkish commentator has labelled "banal fascism"?
Locals say the answer is partly economic. Villages around Trabzon used to be prosperous. Then the hazelnut market collapsed, and farmers fled to the city in the tens of thousands.
The Pelitli district, where Mr. Samast is from, is made up of former villagers forced out of their homes by floods and landslides. Youth unemployment is high and most teenagers while away their time in one of two Internet cafés, or playing football.
Deep-seated grievances have been stoked by the belief that Trabzon has suffered more than its fair share of casualties in Turkey's 25-year war against Kurdish separatists.
The mob attack on the four students in May, 2005, took place in an atmosphere of national hysteria triggered by an attempt by two Kurdish teenagers to burn the Turkish flag. Turkey's top general called the flag-burners "so-called citizens."
Local critics blame the authorities for the fact that reactions in Trabzon were more virulent than elsewhere in Turkey, but they reserve their harshest words for the local media.
"Three or four times, they've pretty much invited people to take out their guns and start shooting," says retired teacher Nuri Topal. The lynch mob formed after local televisions stations ran news flashes claiming the students were separatists.
In most Anatolian towns, few people watch local television or read local newspapers. In Trabzon, both are immensely popular and influential, and all because of the town's obsession with football. Trabzonspor, the only non-Istanbul club ever to win the Turkish soccer title, is a central part of the city's identity.
Judging from the atmosphere in Pelitli, there is little chance Mr. Dink's death will change attitudes soon.
"Who cares about that Jew?" says one young man standing outside a local tea house.
"Cut it out!" barks Mehmet Samast, a distant relative of Mr. Dink's confessed killer.
He goes on to say how much he regrets what has happened, how ashamed he feels. It sounds sincere, but concludes by insisting that Ogun Samast was a victim of an international plot.
"Trabzon is vital strategically," he explains. "This murder was the work of the Americans, or the Armenian diaspora. They didn't like [Mr. Dink] either, you know."
Killing brings the dark side of Turkish town into the light
NICHOLAS BIRCH
Special to The Globe and Mail
TRABZON, TURKEY -- Ask Mehmet Akcelep the first thing he thought when he heard that the Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink had been killed, and he answers without hesitation: "I bet that's the work of a local man."
Like the other inhabitants of Trabzon, the biggest city on Turkey's eastern Black Sea coast, Mr. Akcelep, a local councillor, has grown used to seeing his home town in the news for the wrong reasons.
It was here, last February, that a 16-year-old youth shot and killed an Italian priest in the local Catholic church.
It was here, in May, 2005, that four students distributing leaflets about prison conditions narrowly escaped death at the hands of a 2,000-strong lynch mob, first of a growing national trend.
Mr. Akcelep's fears were justified. Arrested Saturday on an overnight coach and accused of shooting Mr. Dink, 17-year-old high-school dropout and amateur soccer player Ogun Samast turned out to be from Pelitli, a suburb of Trabzon.
"I said my prayers and then I shot [Mr. Dink]," Mr. Samast reportedly told interrogators. "I feel no remorse. He said Turkish blood was dirty blood."
Four others were arrested, including fellow Trabzon resident Yasin Hayal, 26, who reportedly incited Mr. Samast to kill and gave him money and the gun. As he was led into court yesterday, Mr. Hayal yelled to reporters, "Orhan Pamuk should come to his senses" -- an apparent threat to the Nobel-winning Turkish novelist who has also raised the ire of Turkish nationalists.
The comments are hardly surprising. Nationalism has always been a fundamental ingredient of Turkish society, and has been a growing force in Trabzon.
"What you have here is a headless monster, a nursery for potential assassins," says Omer Faruk Altuntas, a lawyer and local head of a small left-wing party.
What is it that has turned Trabzon, a city that 100 years ago had local newspapers in Turkish, Greek, Armenian and French, into a symbol of what one Turkish commentator has labelled "banal fascism"?
Locals say the answer is partly economic. Villages around Trabzon used to be prosperous. Then the hazelnut market collapsed, and farmers fled to the city in the tens of thousands.
The Pelitli district, where Mr. Samast is from, is made up of former villagers forced out of their homes by floods and landslides. Youth unemployment is high and most teenagers while away their time in one of two Internet cafés, or playing football.
Deep-seated grievances have been stoked by the belief that Trabzon has suffered more than its fair share of casualties in Turkey's 25-year war against Kurdish separatists.
The mob attack on the four students in May, 2005, took place in an atmosphere of national hysteria triggered by an attempt by two Kurdish teenagers to burn the Turkish flag. Turkey's top general called the flag-burners "so-called citizens."
Local critics blame the authorities for the fact that reactions in Trabzon were more virulent than elsewhere in Turkey, but they reserve their harshest words for the local media.
"Three or four times, they've pretty much invited people to take out their guns and start shooting," says retired teacher Nuri Topal. The lynch mob formed after local televisions stations ran news flashes claiming the students were separatists.
In most Anatolian towns, few people watch local television or read local newspapers. In Trabzon, both are immensely popular and influential, and all because of the town's obsession with football. Trabzonspor, the only non-Istanbul club ever to win the Turkish soccer title, is a central part of the city's identity.
Judging from the atmosphere in Pelitli, there is little chance Mr. Dink's death will change attitudes soon.
"Who cares about that Jew?" says one young man standing outside a local tea house.
"Cut it out!" barks Mehmet Samast, a distant relative of Mr. Dink's confessed killer.
He goes on to say how much he regrets what has happened, how ashamed he feels. It sounds sincere, but concludes by insisting that Ogun Samast was a victim of an international plot.
"Trabzon is vital strategically," he explains. "This murder was the work of the Americans, or the Armenian diaspora. They didn't like [Mr. Dink] either, you know."
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