The long shadow
Payam Akhavan
National Post
Monday, January 22, 2007
The prominent journalist and voice of Turkey's dwindling Armenian
minority, Hrant Dink, was shot dead on Jan. 19 as he left his office
in Istanbul. Dink was editor of Agos, the sole Armenian newspaper in
Turkey. He had been prosecuted because of his call for recognition of
Ottoman Turkey's 1915 massacre of 1.5 million of its ethnic Armenian
citizens -- a crime against humanity that the Canadian House of
Commons formally acknowledged in April, 2004. His murder starkly
demonstrates how Turkish denial of this abomination, the first
genocide of the 20th century, amounts to continuing violence against
multi-ethnic democracy and pluralism. It is a painful reminder that
without redemption for past injustices, the ghosts of history will
cast a long shadow on Turkey's future.
Mr. Dink was convicted in October, 2005, of the crime of "insulting
Turkishness" under Article 301 of the Turkish Penal Code. In being
branded as a criminal for calling attention to the 1915 genocide, he
joined the ranks of prominent fellow ethnic Turkish citizens,
including the famous novelist Orhan Pamuk, recipient of the 2006
Nobel Prize in Literature, the renowned intellectual Murat Belge, who
organized a conference on the Armenian genocide in 2005, and the
courageous historian Taner Akcam, author of A Shameful Act which
details Turkish responsibility for the events of 1915. These eminent
Turks would argue that the greatest insult to "Turkishness" is the
continuing denial of this historical tragedy, which brutally ripped
Turkey's multiethnic fibre apart, and that the greatest disgrace is
the appeasement of ethnic chauvinists who seek to destroy its modest
but precious remnants. The truth that Mr. Dink and his fellow
citizens upheld transcends ties of blood and soil. This was
poignantly expressed at the candlelight vigil after his murder, where
hundreds of Turks held signs reading: "We are all Hrant Dink. We are
all Armenians."
The Turkish Prime Minister, Recep Erdogan, condemned Mr. Dink's
murder as a "bullet aimed at free speech." But so long as Article 301
of the Turkish Penal Code criminalizes "insulting Turkishness," these
remain empty words. Limitations on freedom of speech should apply to
hate speech, not to speech against hate. Recognition of past
injustice promotes mutual respect and redeems a shared humanity. But
its denial sows the seeds of hatred, by perpetuating both the
dehumanization of its victims and the moral depravity of its
perpetrators. In a world where Holocaust denial is a crime, state-
sanctioned denial of genocide is all the more reproachable. It is
telling that when the House of Commonsrecognized the Armenian genocide in 2004, Turkey condemned "narrow
minded Canadian politicians" who failed to understand that their
decision "will awaken feelings of hatred among people of different
[ethnic] roots and disturb social harmony." The murder of Mr. Dink
should leave no doubt that social harmony is not achieved through
appeasement of ethnic chauvinists.
Mr. Dink's last op-ed, written on Jan. 10, a few days prior to his
murder, is a testament to his nobility and heroism. He speaks of
death threats against him, but he fears for his family and not for
himself. And despite his ordeal, he speaks of his abiding commitment
to Turkey and its people: "There were moments when I seriously
thought about leaving the country and moving far away. And especially
when the threats started to involve those close to me." But to stay
in Turkey "was necessary because we truly desired it and [had to do
so] out of respect to the thousands of friends in Turkey [who]
struggled for democracy and who supported us. We were going to stay
and we were going to resist." In an allusion to the recurring trauma
of collective destruction and exile, he reveals how strongly he was
clinging to his beloved home: "If we were forced to leave one day,
however ? We were going to set out just as in 1915 ? Like our
ancestors ?Without knowing where we were going ? Walking the roads
they walked through ? Feeling the ordeal, experiencing the pain ?
With such a reproach we were going to leave our homeland. And we
would go where our feet took us, but not our hearts." It is in light
of this vivid memory of 1915 that the magnitude of his murder becomes
apparent, almost as if those unspeakable events have continued
unabated to the present day.
In his last days, Mr. Dink wrote that he felt the "unease of a
pigeon" that must constantly live in fear of being preyed upon. But
in an expression of unfailing hope and trust in his fellow Turkish
citizens, he remained confident that "in this country people do not
touch pigeons. Pigeons live their lives all the way deep into the
city, even amidst the human throngs. Yes, somewhat apprehensive but
just as much free." Yet, it was in the busy streets of Istanbul,
amidst the human throngs, that he was shot to death. At least if this
shocking betrayal awakens the Turkish people to the paramount
necessity of atonement for the past, Mr. Dink's confidence in his
fellow citizens may still be vindicated, and the restless ghosts of
Ottoman times may finally repose in their sepulchers.
- Payam Akhavan is a professor of International Law at McGill
University in Montreal and a former UN war crimes prosecutor at The
Hague.
© National Post 2007
Payam Akhavan
National Post
Monday, January 22, 2007
The prominent journalist and voice of Turkey's dwindling Armenian
minority, Hrant Dink, was shot dead on Jan. 19 as he left his office
in Istanbul. Dink was editor of Agos, the sole Armenian newspaper in
Turkey. He had been prosecuted because of his call for recognition of
Ottoman Turkey's 1915 massacre of 1.5 million of its ethnic Armenian
citizens -- a crime against humanity that the Canadian House of
Commons formally acknowledged in April, 2004. His murder starkly
demonstrates how Turkish denial of this abomination, the first
genocide of the 20th century, amounts to continuing violence against
multi-ethnic democracy and pluralism. It is a painful reminder that
without redemption for past injustices, the ghosts of history will
cast a long shadow on Turkey's future.
Mr. Dink was convicted in October, 2005, of the crime of "insulting
Turkishness" under Article 301 of the Turkish Penal Code. In being
branded as a criminal for calling attention to the 1915 genocide, he
joined the ranks of prominent fellow ethnic Turkish citizens,
including the famous novelist Orhan Pamuk, recipient of the 2006
Nobel Prize in Literature, the renowned intellectual Murat Belge, who
organized a conference on the Armenian genocide in 2005, and the
courageous historian Taner Akcam, author of A Shameful Act which
details Turkish responsibility for the events of 1915. These eminent
Turks would argue that the greatest insult to "Turkishness" is the
continuing denial of this historical tragedy, which brutally ripped
Turkey's multiethnic fibre apart, and that the greatest disgrace is
the appeasement of ethnic chauvinists who seek to destroy its modest
but precious remnants. The truth that Mr. Dink and his fellow
citizens upheld transcends ties of blood and soil. This was
poignantly expressed at the candlelight vigil after his murder, where
hundreds of Turks held signs reading: "We are all Hrant Dink. We are
all Armenians."
The Turkish Prime Minister, Recep Erdogan, condemned Mr. Dink's
murder as a "bullet aimed at free speech." But so long as Article 301
of the Turkish Penal Code criminalizes "insulting Turkishness," these
remain empty words. Limitations on freedom of speech should apply to
hate speech, not to speech against hate. Recognition of past
injustice promotes mutual respect and redeems a shared humanity. But
its denial sows the seeds of hatred, by perpetuating both the
dehumanization of its victims and the moral depravity of its
perpetrators. In a world where Holocaust denial is a crime, state-
sanctioned denial of genocide is all the more reproachable. It is
telling that when the House of Commonsrecognized the Armenian genocide in 2004, Turkey condemned "narrow
minded Canadian politicians" who failed to understand that their
decision "will awaken feelings of hatred among people of different
[ethnic] roots and disturb social harmony." The murder of Mr. Dink
should leave no doubt that social harmony is not achieved through
appeasement of ethnic chauvinists.
Mr. Dink's last op-ed, written on Jan. 10, a few days prior to his
murder, is a testament to his nobility and heroism. He speaks of
death threats against him, but he fears for his family and not for
himself. And despite his ordeal, he speaks of his abiding commitment
to Turkey and its people: "There were moments when I seriously
thought about leaving the country and moving far away. And especially
when the threats started to involve those close to me." But to stay
in Turkey "was necessary because we truly desired it and [had to do
so] out of respect to the thousands of friends in Turkey [who]
struggled for democracy and who supported us. We were going to stay
and we were going to resist." In an allusion to the recurring trauma
of collective destruction and exile, he reveals how strongly he was
clinging to his beloved home: "If we were forced to leave one day,
however ? We were going to set out just as in 1915 ? Like our
ancestors ?Without knowing where we were going ? Walking the roads
they walked through ? Feeling the ordeal, experiencing the pain ?
With such a reproach we were going to leave our homeland. And we
would go where our feet took us, but not our hearts." It is in light
of this vivid memory of 1915 that the magnitude of his murder becomes
apparent, almost as if those unspeakable events have continued
unabated to the present day.
In his last days, Mr. Dink wrote that he felt the "unease of a
pigeon" that must constantly live in fear of being preyed upon. But
in an expression of unfailing hope and trust in his fellow Turkish
citizens, he remained confident that "in this country people do not
touch pigeons. Pigeons live their lives all the way deep into the
city, even amidst the human throngs. Yes, somewhat apprehensive but
just as much free." Yet, it was in the busy streets of Istanbul,
amidst the human throngs, that he was shot to death. At least if this
shocking betrayal awakens the Turkish people to the paramount
necessity of atonement for the past, Mr. Dink's confidence in his
fellow citizens may still be vindicated, and the restless ghosts of
Ottoman times may finally repose in their sepulchers.
- Payam Akhavan is a professor of International Law at McGill
University in Montreal and a former UN war crimes prosecutor at The
Hague.
© National Post 2007
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