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Özgül Arslan
“It turned into a place where it became impossible to breathe,” says feminist visual artist Özgül Arslan about Turkey. “Everything and everywhere changed. Nothing was familiar anymore. Everything that makes up the country’s memory is being sold, demolished and destroyed one by one.”
Arslan grew up in a Turkey marred by the 1980 coup d’etat, when the Turkish military overthrew the government following violence between left- and right-wing factions. Though some say military rule helped stabilise Turkey, which changed prime ministers 11 times in the 1970s alone, the military arrested hundreds of thousands of people and executed dozens more. Others were tortured or just disappeared — all for their activism, opinions or work.
Arslan, and many others living in Turkey, learned how to remain silent for their own safety. It was this period of silence that drew Arslan to art. With its metaphors and hidden messages, it gave Arslan a voice.
But even now, Turkey is growing increasingly illiberal under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Erdogan has taken control of media, diminished the opposition party, and restricted freedom of expression by imprisoning journalists and human rights activists. The president has also restricted the role of the parliament and prime minister, allowing himself to legislate by decree.
Socially, the situation is just as grim. Erdogan has spoken of creating a “pious generation,” one which adopts traditional Islamic values. This trend is seen in education, with religious schools receiving more funding than secular schools, despite having less students. In 2017, secular schools were forced by the government to remove evolution from the curriculum, which was seen as the government’s conservative and religious ideology infiltrating schools. The government defended the changes, saying the new curriculum would be both nationalist and moral.
The government has also condemned feminism, with Erdogan saying in 2014 that women and men were not equal. Arslan said that women are taught to be chaste at every opportunity. Furthermore, Arslan is a part of the Alevi faith, a minority sect of Islam. Arslan says there has always been problems for people of the Alevi faith, but now the Erdogan is pressuring everybody not of the majority Sunni faith.
“It is meaningless to live in a country where the government is constantly uttering threats. It makes our lives, our humanity and our minds lose their worth,” Arslan said.
She didn’t want to raise her daughter in this kind of environment, so she and her husband moved to London in 2016.
Arslan, who has done exhibitions both in Turkey and abroad, spoke to Leah Asmelash from Index on Censorship about censorship of the arts in Turkey, how her beliefs affect her work and upcoming projects. [/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”104410″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://ozgularslan.com/catharsis-circle/”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Index: How old were you when you first started creating art? What drew you to it?
Arslan: Since I was born until I was 11-years-old I lived in Erzincan, a city in eastern Turkey located within an earthquake zone. We sometimes used to stay in a tent put up on a land near our house for our safety. There would be no paper nor paints, we only took with us the most basic supplies necessary for living. Whenever we would enter to our house, which we called shelter, or go out of it, we would run. There would always be something of a construct and reconstruct around me when I was growing up. What I made at the time were – I could only define it long afterwards – “land art” experiments. I would draw on earth, rocks, branches, water, snow, ice, crops, etc. anything you could think of. I would give them shape, interfere with their natural cycle, reorganize them, then observe the changes they would undergo and the entire process of it… This was a kind of game I played with nature. I used to do and nature would undo again what I made. I have produced this type of ecologic artworks during my first years at university.
These were times when we were caught between tradition, faith and parents who would keep silent and teach their children to remain silent like them after the 1980 military coup. I always wanted to make art, but what drew me into it was art’s metaphorical and ironic narrative using symbols. It was a path I chose intentionally to record the process of defining myself and what was happening around me.
Index: Your art typically has political messages. When did your art become political? Was it a response to things happening around you?
Arslan: When I was studying at university, I would often hear that it wouldn’t be easy for a woman to make art. There was a lot of gender discrimination in art as everywhere else. The exact same struggle I was giving against my family, society or the state stood right in front of me in the world of art. The mere fact of continuing working with the belief that it is possible to make art anywhere, with anything and under any condition was a political stance in itself.
Domestic violence, child abuse, the insignificance of being a woman, privation, deficiencies in education, discriminations based on identity, etc. Any of these issues related to this region is my past… What is personal is political. As an artist, I chose to express my relationship with the present and my questioning through my work. Even though I can’t really tell if there was a defining moment, there has always been a latent political content in all my artistic works.
In short, I wanted to create a visual language consisting of personal and social codes and references to question the relationship between public space, home and modernity.
Index: Much of your work features different mediums, including painting, photos and videos. Why have you chosen to use such differing mediums?
Arslan: I mainly studied literature, philosophy and art history. I was an avid reader and I also used to draw. I used to paint on canvas during my high school years and afterwards. I worked for a painting gallery and for an architecture firm that would also make decorations. I learned a lot of things there that would have been impossible to learn at school. I also worked with painters, studied painting and acting. Murals I made during my university years in internal spaces and outdoors, the different techniques I have tried while working on walls and through my work with materials such as glass helped me to understand what decorativeness corresponded to technically and in terms of content.
Although the first conceptual works date back to 1965, because those did not have a continuity, we can set the starting date of contemporary art production in Turkey in the end of the 1980s. The military coup of 1980 played a significant role in it. But art was still affected by the negative influences stemming from the domination of Turkish modernism and the tradition of painting attached to it. One of the results of this conservative influence was that art institutions would not give an opportunity to young artists.
As someone who started making art works at the end of the 1990s, the core of my influences from photography to video and from using manufactured articles to painting are the Dada movement in 1920s and the conceptual arts that started developing in the 1960s. By using various medium and developing new techniques, I have adopted a multidisciplinary construct in which the content of the project was determinant.
This also included my choice of spaces. With the Internet becoming a part of our life, I have also sought with my work to define the field and how we would position ourselves in it. When conceiving the form, essence and content of my artistic works, I usually try to work in public spaces other than art galleries and organize the space in a way that has a bond with what I want to produce.
I chose the medium either according to the content and to the space after conducting my research and reading on a certain concept and questions that arise from a given situation or totally based on my intuition. This can either be an object, a manufactured article, a photograph or a video, or I may also develop a new technique different from the traditional ones by using other medium befitting to the content.
Index: You come from an Alevi background, which is considered heresy by the by the dominant form of Islam, and Alevis face a lot of persecution in Turkey. People have said that Erdogan is trying to make Turkey more Sunni. How is freedom of religion diminished in Turkey, and how are you affected by that?
Arslan: In 1993, radical Islamists staged an arson attack on the Madımak Hotel in Sivas where intellectuals who came to attend an event in the city from across Turkey were staying, because they were Alevis and atheists. Thirty-three intellectuals and two hotel workers were killed in the attack. The subsequent trial dropped due to statute of limitations. Today, those who were defending that disaster sit in important positions in the government.
As you say, Alevis have always been under pressure but freedom of belief is no longer a problem unique to Alevis in Turkey. It is the problem of seculars altogether. Conservatives are trying to put everyone else under pressure to be and live like them. When 20 or 30 years ago it was the secular way of life which was imposed on everyone, it’s now conservatives who are exerting the same pressure. Nothing has changed or improved in the life of Alevis, they still feel themselves forced to hide their identity.
Part of society who wants to see modern and rational policies and move forward is facing a group ruling – or wanting to be ruled – with ignorance. It is meaningless to live in a country where the government is constantly uttering threats. It makes our lives, our humanity and our minds lose their worth. Some of our friends have been deprived of their freedoms or their jobs just because they have pronounced words such as “freedom” and “peace.”
Index: Your work commonly features women and comments on sexism within society. Why is that message important to you? How does your identity as an Alevi woman impact your perspective and thus the art you create?
Arslan: There are too many issues concerning women’s rights. There is a predominant patriarchal discourse at home, at work, at school and anywhere you can think of. There are cultural codes embedded in society through state and religion. Those are constantly telling us what we can or we cannot do, how we should obey, how we should love, what we should wear and even what we should eat. We are fighting for our human rights every day, even with our closest ones. I consider myself as a feminist artist. Since I make art through my personal references as a woman, an artist, a teacher and a mother of a girl, women, children and all the marginalized are my problem too.
I see myself lucky for being born in an Alevi family, despite being socially marginalized and subject to a degrading discourse. Alevi families traditionally raise their children with freedom of belief. They respect everyone’s beliefs because of their own faith. Moreover, there is no prohibition of representation and statues like in conservative Islam.
Being raised in an Alevi family allowed me to notice at an early age social discriminations based on identity, state and religious policies, people who were marginalized and marginalization in general and to develop a sensibility on these issues.
Index: As Turkish society grows increasingly conservative, how are artists being silenced?
Arslan: Every dissenting, marginal opinion is being finger-pointed as a target by the government. Artists are being discredited. Either their artistic works are censored or artists themselves exercise self-censorship.
In the past years, galleries in the center of Istanbul were attacked by mobs with batons and stones because people were allegedly drinking alcohol – actions we call “pressure from the neighbourhood.” Those galleries either moved or closed. No one claimed responsibility and no legal action was initiated against anyone over the incidents. There has been attacks targeting certain exhibited pieces in different events. Some artworks were removed. Not only they don’t understand contemporary art, but they are also pointing the fingers at the artistic work on this field through disdainful social media comments or statements relayed pro-government publications. By doing so, they turn these artists into a target for their supporters.
No artistic event whose content doesn’t back the government’s discourse or which is traditionally aligned with it can get funding or financial support. Many theatres were closed, buildings housing art schools and conservatories were emptied. Academics at schools were either dismissed or reassigned somewhere else. A lot of statues in public spaces were removed and no one really knows what happened to them. Others were subject to attacks and damaged by radical Islamists. Works of art were called “monstrosity” by the authorities. A large number of historical artefacts restored by government supporters who had no experience have been irreparably damaged. Buildings with an important historical and artistic significance, such as the Atatürk Cultural Center in Istanbul, were demolished. The parliamentary speaker ordered actresses during a theatre performance to get out of the stage and the play continued without any woman acting. Several restrictions were brought to performing arts under state institutions such as theatre and ballet.
Index: How has this silencing affected the way you work and what you produce?
Arslan: Part of my work has been influenced by social movements. This led me to question art and work on new techniques – which I shared with my students. But in the last few years, the way I presented my work was much stronger as a result of what we have been through. I have tended to render apparent what used to be covered up by using an aesthetic language.
Index: What motivated you to leave Turkey?
Arslan: It turned into a place where it became impossible to breath. Everything and everywhere changed. Nothing was familiar anymore. Everything that makes up the country’s memory is being sold, demolished and destroyed one by one. Nature got its share too. Rivers, streams, lakes, forests, lands owned by the treasury, cultural heritage sites, the air, water, the soil, seeds… So much has been sacked.
Those who speak up against it are arrested in their house in the middle of the night and kept in jail for months without an indictment. They otherwise lose their jobs.
“Either you have to keep silent or you will leave.” Think a President who threatens half of the population with the other half that elected him. We have recently witnessed a number of bomb attacks, we were subject to tear gas almost every day and we became used to walk between water cannons and armed riot police.
They took children from their schools to events held by a pro-government foundation or the directorate of religious affairs without asking the permission of their families.
Turkey has turned its back to science. Entire curriculums were changed. Many qualified teachers were dismissed. The country is rapidly verging to Dark ages in the hands of a government looking to raise a “religious and rancorous” generation.
The number of sexual attacks and violence against children and women is very high. While the “man” who perpetrates this crime can get a reduction of sentence for good behaviour in court, the fact that a woman wore a mini skirt or went outside late at night can be used as a justification for “provoking” him. If the laws don’t protect women and children, they also give women lectures of chastity at each opportunity. The government is aggressively discrediting the discourse of feminists. What we call “the pressure from the neighbourhood” is now a reality everywhere.
As a feminist family, we didn’t want to raise our daughter with a conservative education which is not based on science. Personally speaking, I preferred to move where I could work more freely and keep developing my art without exercising self-censorship rather than sitting back and watching everything.
There are a lot of modern families who left Turkey and stopped their careers to move in other countries. These are families who don’t want to force their children to live under this dark regime. Especially secular white collars are leaving Turkey.
As writer Tezer Özlü once said, “This not our country, but the country of those who want to kill us.”
Index: Now that you’re based in London, how do you think this change in location will affect your art, if at all?
Arslan: My art studio is in Turkey. Most of the artwork I have produced and my materials are also there. My conditions of work are changing and my production is limited. I am trying to live and continue producing with my meagre means. I also follow the artistic production here and learn about the processes of production.
After moving here, I opened one solo exhibition in Istanbul and took part in group exhibitions. Being invited in group exhibitions here as well is a great satisfaction and keeps me motivated to produce more works. Artists and curators I have worked with in London are very understanding and open to communication and sharing.
Although I am far from Turkey in terms of distance I still follow what happens day. I continue thinking and reading about being subject to everyday violence. Although I define myself as a “voluntary migrant”, I started to focus on the links between voluntary migration and violence and oppression. The artworks I am producing here follow this direction.
Index: How is your art, with its feminist messages, received in Turkey versus internationally? Is there a difference and if so, why do you think that is?
Arslan: The audience in London knows a lot about art. They can therefore read your work very easily. I needed to make less explanations to the public in London than what I used to do in Turkey. Generally speaking, the audience here has extensive knowledge about art, they are interested in feminism or other political issues and better equipped to empathize. My methods of productions are methods or metaphors they are familiar with. The themes of my artworks are not only issues we are confronted in Turkey but current universal issues we are facing.
[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”104411″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://ozgularslan.com/exposure-maruz/”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Index: Sanat yapmaya başladığınızda kaç yaşındaydınız? Sizi sanat yapmaya çeken neydi?
Arslan: Doğduktan sonra onbir yaşına kadar ki sürecim Türkiye’nin doğusunda bulunan şehirlerden biri olan ve deprem bölgesinde yer alan Erzincan’da geçti. O yüzden güvenlik nedeniyle bazı dönemlerde haftalarca evimizin yakınındaki arazide, sadece çadırda kalmamız gerekirdi. Kağıt, boya malzemeleri yoktu, sadece yaşamsal zorunluluğu olan malzemleri yanımıza alırdık. O zamanlarda ev, sığınak dediğimiz yere ise koşarak girip koşarak çıkardık. Etrafımda hep bir “yapı kurumu”(construct) ve “yeniden yapım”(reconstruct) vardı. O zaman ürettiklerim daha çok sonradan tanımını koyabildiğim “Land art” denemeleriydi. Toprak, taş, dal, su, karlı arazi, buzlar, ekinler vs. aklınıza ne gelirse üzerine çizmek, şekil vermek, onların var olan döngüsüne müdahale etmek, düzenlemeler yapmak ve sonrasında geçirdikleri değişimi, süreci gözlemlemek… Bu bir çeşit doğayla oyun oynamaktı, ben yapardım o da tekrar değiştirirdi. Üniversitenin ilk yıllarında bu tip ekolojik çalışmalar ürettim.
Gelenek, inanç ve 1980 darbesi nedeniyle susulan, çocuklarına kendileri gibi sessiz kalmayı öğreten veliler arasında geçen dönemlerdi. Sanat yapma isteğim hep vardı ancak en çok da sanatın kodlarla, metaforik ve ironik anlatım yönü beni sanata itti. Kendimi ve çevremde olup bitenleri tanımlama sürecimi kayıt altına almak için bilinçli olarak tercih ettiğim bir yoldu.
Index: Eserlerinizde genellikle siyasi mesajlar görmek mümkün. Sanatınız ne zaman politik hale geldi? Etrafınızda olup bitenlere karşı bir cevap mıydı bu?
Arslan: Üniversite yıllarımda bir kadının sanat yapmasının pek de kolay olmayacağının altı sık sık çiziliyordu. Kadın ayrımı her yerde olduğu gibi sanatta da vardı. Aile, toplum ve devletle verdiğim kimlik mücadelesi sanat ortamında da karşımdaydı.Her yerde, her şeyle ve her şartta sanat yapılır anlayışıyla çalışmalarımı devam ettirmem de politik bir tavırdı.
Aile içi şiddet, çocuk olarak uğradığınız tacizler, kadın olarak hiç bir değerinizin olmaması, yokluk, eğitimdeki eksiklikler, kimlik ayrımları vs. Bu coğrafyanın sorunu olan her şey benim de geçmişim…Kişisel olan politiktir. Ben de bir sanatçı olarak var olan durumla ilişkimi, sorgulamalarımı, çalışmalarımla ifade etme yöntemini seçtim.
Kesin zaman verememekle birlikte sanırım çalışmalarımda gizli politik bir içerik hep vardı.
Özetle, kamusal alan-ev-modernite ilişkisini ve politikalarını sorgulayan, kişisel ve toplumsal kodlara referanslarla bir görsel dil oluşturmak istedim.
Index: Çalışmalarınızın önemli bir kısmında resim, fotoğraf ve video gibi farklı sanatsal araçlar başvurmanız dikkat çekiyor. Neden birbirinden farklı medyumlar kullanmayı tercih ettiniz?
Arslan: Ağırlıklı olarak edebiyat, felsefe, sanat tarihi dersleri aldım. İyi bir okuyucuydum ve resim yapardım. Lise yıllarımda ve sonrasında tuval yapım ve yerel resim galerisinde, daha sonra da dekorasyon yapan bir mimarlık şirketinde çalıştım. Okulda öğrenmenin olanaksız olduğu çok şey öğrendim. Aynı zamanda ressamlarla da çalıştım ve akademik desen, resim ve oyunculuk eğitimi aldım. Üniversite yıllarımda, dış ya da iç mekanlara yaptığım duvar resmi, denediğim duvar üzeri farklı teknikler ve cam gibi malzemelerle yaptığım işler sayesinde dekoratif olanın, hem içerik hem de teknik olarak neye karşılık geldiğini kavradım.
Türkiye’de güncel sanat üretiminin 1965 yılında ilk kavramsal çalışmalar yapılmış olsa da süreklilik gösteremediği için 1980’lerin sonlarında başladığını öne sürebiliriz ve bunda 1980 darbesinin büyük rolü var. Bu dönemde Türk modernizmi ve ona bağlı pentür geleneğinin sanat alanındaki hakimiyetinin olumsuz etkileri devam etmekteydi. Bu muhafazakar etkilerden biri sanat kurumlarının genç sanatçılara yer vermemesiydi.
1990’ların sonunda üretimine başlamış biri olarak, 1920’lerde Dada ve 1960’lardan itibaren gelişen kavramsal sanat, fotoğraftan videoya, hazır nesneden resme uzayıp giden eğilimlerimin kökenini oluşturuyor. Çok sayıda medyumu bir arada kullanarak ve yeni teknikler geliştirerek projenin içeriğinin belirleyici olacağı çok disiplinli bir yapıyı benimsedim.
Buna mekan seçimlerim de dahil oldu. İnternetin hayatımıza girmesiyle birlikte alanı nasıl tanımlayacağımıza, içerisinde nasıl konumlanacağımıza dair yaptığım çalışmalarım da oldu. Sanat galerileri dışında kamusal alanlarda çalışmaya ve çalışmalarımda biçim-öz-içerik oluştururken mekanın üretilecek işle bağını kuracak şekilde kurgularım.
Sezgisel olarak yada bir durumun sonucunda oluşan bir kavram ve sorular hakkında okuma ve araştırmalarımı yaptıktan sonra, kullanılacak medyumu içeriğe ve mekana göre belirlerim. Bu bir obje, hazır nesne, fotoğraf-video olabiliyor ya da geleneksel tekniklerin ve medyumların dışında içeriğe uygun bir teknik geliştiririm. Kişisel sergilerimde dahi sergide yer alacak her bir çalışmayı mekanda yerleştirilecek düzenlemenin bir elemanı gibi kurgular ve üretirim. Dışarıdan içeriye, içeriden dışarıya bir referans, hemen hemen tüm çalışmalarımda vardır.
Index: Alevi bir aileden geliyorsunuz. Alevilik, İslam’da heretik olarak görülüyor ve Türkiye’de de Alevilere yönelik yoğun baskılar var. Erdoğan’ın Türkiye’yi Sünnileştirmeye çalıştığı belirtiliyor. Türkiye’de din ve inanç özgürlüğü ne kadar daraldı ve siz bundan ne şekilde etkileniyorsunuz?
Arslan: Muhafazakarlar, Sivas’ta Madımak Oteli’nde 1993 yılında bir etkinlik için toplanan Türkiye’nin farklı yerlerinden gelen aydınları, Alevi ve Ateist oldukları gerekçesiyle yaktılar. 33 Aydın ve 2 otel görevlisini hayatını kaybetti. Dava zaman aşımına uğradı. Şimdi o felaketin savunucuları şu anda yönetimde söz sahibi makamlardalar.
Belirtiğiniz gibi Alevilere karşı bir baskı hep var ancak günümüz Türkiye’sinde inanç özgürlüğü sorunu sadece artık Alevilerin sorunu olmaktan çıktı. Bu artık tüm sekülerlerin sorunu. Muhafazakarlar kendilerinden olmayan kerkesi, kendileri gibi olmaları ve yaşamaları için her alanda baskı altına almaya çalışıyorlar. Bundan 20-30 yıl önce seküler yaşam tarzi herkese dayatılırken şimdi muhafazakar kesim bu baskıyı yapıyor. Alevilerin hayatında gelişen veya değişen bir şey yok, hala kimliklerini gizlemek zorunda kalabiliyorlar.
Çağdaş akılcı yöntemleri görmek ve ilerlemek isteyen bir kesimin karşısında cahilce kararlarla yöneten ve yönetilmek isteyen bir kesim var. Sürekli size tehtitler savuran bir yönetimin içinde yaşamak anlamsız. Hayatımızı, insanlığımızı, aklımızı değersizleştiriyor. “Özgürlük”, “barış“ gibi kelimeleri sırf telaffuz ettiler diye koca bir toplumun önünde bazılarımız özgürlüklerinden ya da işlerinden edildiler.
Index: Çalışmalarınızda yaygın olarak kadınlara ve toplum içindeki cinsiyet ayrımcılığına yer veriyorsunuz. Bu mesaj sizin için neden önemli? Alevi bir kadın olmak bakış açınızı ve sanatınızı nasıl etkiliyor?
Arslan: Kadınların hakları konusunda çok fazla sorun var. Evde, işte, okulda aklınıza gelebilecek tüm alanlarda ataerkil söylem hakim. Bize sürekli nerede ne yapacağımızı ve ne yapamayacağımızı, nasıl itaat etmemiz, nasıl sevmemiz, nerede ne giymemiz, ne yememize kadar söyleyen devlet ve din yoluyla toplumda yer etmiş kültürel kodlar var. Her günümüz, insani haklarımız için en yakınlarımızla dahi mücadele etmekle geçmekte. Ben feminist bir sanatçıyım, kişisel referaslarımla ürettiğim için bir kadın, sanatçı, öğretmen ve bir kız çocuğu annesi olarak doğal olarak kadınlar, çocuklar ve tüm ötekileştirilenler benim de meselem.
Türkiye’ de sosyal olarak ötekileştirmeler, hakaret niteliği taşıyan söylemlere maruz kalmış olsam da Alevi bir ailede dünyaya gelmiş olmam konusunda kendimi şanslı görüyorum. Alevi aileler çocuklarını inanç özgürlüğüyle yetiştirirler ve inançları gereği herkesin inancına saygı duyarlar. Ayrıca muhfazakar İslamdaki gibi suret ve heykel yasağı yoktur.
Alevi bir ailede büyümüş olmam topkumdaki kimlik ayrımcılıklarının, devlet ve din politikalarını, öteki olmak, ötekileştirmeleri erken yaşta fark etmemde ve bu konuda duyarlılık geliştirmemde faydası oldu.
Index: Türkiye’de toplum giderek muhafazakârlaştıkça, sanatçılar nasıl susturuluyor?
Arslan: İktidar tarafından muhalilif, marjinal her düşünce hedef gösterliyor. Sanatçılar ve üretimleri itibarsızlaştırılıyor. Üretilen çalışmalar ya sansürleniyor ya da sanatçılar otosansür uyguluyor.
Galeriler, geçtiğimiz yıllarda İstanbul’un merkezinde mahalle baskısı uygulanarak içki içiliyor gerekçesiyle bir grup tarafından taşlı sopalı saldırıya uğradılar. Galeriler oradan ya taşındı ya da kapattılar. Hiç kimse bu olayda sorumluluk almadı ve kimseye hukuki bir işlem yapılmadı. Bazı sergilenen çalışmalara, farklı etkinliklerde saldırılar oldu ya da eserler kaldırıldı. Çağdaş sanat çalışmalarını anlamadıkları gibi bu alanda yapılan çalışmaları küçümseyecek yazılarla sosyal medya ya da iktidara ait yayınlarda açıklamalar yaparak kendi yandaşlarına açık açık hedef göstermekteler.
Geleneksel veya içeriksel olarak kendi söylemlerini desteklemeyen hiç bir sanat etkinliğine fon-maddi destek ayrılmıyor. Tiyatroların çoğu kapatıldı, sanat, koservatuar okullarının binaları boşaltılıyor. Okullarda akademisyenler ya görevlerinde alındı ya da görev yeri değiştirildi. Kamusal alandaki pek çok heykel kaldırıldı, akıbetlerinin ne olduğu belli değil. Yine kamusal alandaki heykellere muhafazakar kesim tarafından saldırıldı, zarar verildi. Sanat eserleri iktidar tarafından “Ucube” olarak nitelendirildi. Bu iktidar dönemi sırasında işi bilmez iktidar yanlılarına yaptırılan pek çok tarihi eser, restorasyon sırasında geri dönüşü olanaksız zararlara uğradı. Tarihi ve sanatta önemli bir yere sahip bazı binalar yıkıldı, “Atatürk Kültür merkezi” bunlardan biri. Meclis başkanı bir tiyatro gösterisinde kadın oyuncuları sahneden indirdi, kadınlar olmadan gösterim yapıldı. Devlete bağlı tiyatro, bale gibi gösteri sanatlarına pek çok gösterim sınırlamaları getirildi…
Index: Bu susturma çabaları çalışmanızı ve sanatsal üretimlerinizi nasıl etkiledi?
Arslan: Sosyal hareketlerden etkilenerek ürettiğim çalışmalarımında aynı zamanda sanatın sorgusunu yaparak yeni yöntemler üzerinde çalışıyor ve eğitimci yanımla da öğrencilerimle paylaşıyordum. Son yıllarda yaşadıklarımızın etkisiyle çalışmalarımdaki sunumlar da sertleşti. Örtbas edileni estetik dille görünür kılmaya yöneldim.
Index: Türkiye’den neden ayrılmaya karar verdiniz?
Arslan: Nefessiz kaldığınız bir yer oldu artık. Her şey her yer değişti. Hiç bir yer tanıdık değildi. Ülkenin belleği tek tek satılıp,yıkılıp yok ediliyor. Doğa da nasibini aldı, nehirler, dereler, göller, ormanlar, hazine arazileri, kültür miras alanları, hava,su, toprak, tohum…pek çoğu talan edildi.
Buna karşı ses çıkaranlar gecenin bir vakti evlerinden alınıyor ve aylarca bir iddianame hazırlanmadan içerde tutuluyor veya işinden edilebiliyor.
Ya susup boyun eğeceksin ya da gideceksin” Bir başkan düşünün ki kendisini seçen %50 ile diğer %50’ yi tehtit ediyor. Son zamanlarımızda sürekli bir yerlerde bombalar patlıyor, neredeyse her gün biber gazına maruz kalıyorduk, tomaların, çelik zırhlı polislerin arasında yürüyorduk.
Çocuklar ailelerinin izni alınmaksızın ders saatlerinde okuldan alınarak İktidar yanlısı bir vakfın ya da diyanetin düzenlediği toplantılara götürülebiliyor.
Türkiye bilime sırtını döndü, tüm müfredatlar değiştirildi. Nitelikli pek çok eğitimci görevinden edildi. “Dindar ve kindar” bir nesil yetiştirmek isteyen bir iktidarın elinde hızla orta çağ karanlığına doğru gitmekte.
Çocuklar ve kadınlara çok fazla cinsel saldırı ve şiddet söz konusu. Bu suçu işleyen “erkek” mahkemede kıravat taktığı için iyi hal indirimi alabiliyorken, kadın ya da çocuk kısa etek giydiği, gece dışarıda olduğu için gibi oldukça anlamsız gerekçeler de ağır tahrik sebebi olabiliyor. Yasalar kadınları ve çocukları korumazken, her fırsatta kadınlara iffetli olma dersleri veriliyor. Hükümet Feministleri hedef gösterici tavırla itibarsızlaştırarak söylemlerinin altını boşaltıyor.
Mahalle baskısı sessiz bir şekilde her yerde.
Biz feminist bir aile olarak kızımızın bilimden uzak, muhafazakar bir eğitimle yetişmesini istemedik. Ben de çalışmalarımı daha özgürce devam edebileceğimi, kendime otosansür uygulamayacağım, sanatımı geliştirebileceğimi düşündüğüm için ve tüm olup bitene seyirci kalmak, hiç bir şey yapamayarak orada olmaktansa taşınmayı tercih ettim.
Bizim gibi Türkiye’den ayrılıp, kariyerlerini bırakıp başka ülkelere taşınan çok fazla çağdaş düşünen aile var. Çocuklarını bu karanlık düzene mahkum etmek istemeyen aileler. Seküler kesimin özellikle beyaz yakalıları ülkeyi terk etmekte.
Yazar Tezer Özlü’nün dediği gibi “Burası bizim değil, bizi öldürmek isteyenlerin ülkesi”
Index: Artık Londra’da yaşıyorsunuz. Bu mekân değişikliğinin sanatınızı etkileyecek mi ya da etkilerse, sizce nasıl etkileyecek?
Arslan: Atölyem Türkiye’de, çalışmalarımın ve atölye malzemelerim de çoğu orada. Üretimimde var olan şartlar değişiyor, produksiyonum sınırlı, kısıtlı imkanlarımla üretmeye ve yaşamaya çalışıyorum. Burada üretilenleri takip ediyorum, üretim süreçleri ve işleyişlerini öğreniyorum.
Buraya geldikten sonra İstanbul’da bir solo sergi ve grup sergilerine katıldım. Burada da grup sergilerine davet almış olmam sevindirici, üretmem için iyi bir motivasyon sağlıyor. Londra’da çalıştığım sanatçılar, ve küratörler oldukça anlayışlı, iletişime ve paylaşıma açıklar.
Türkiye’den lokasyon olarak uzakta olsamda hala oraya ait meseleleri takip ediyorum. Her gün Şiddete (“Everyday Violence”) maruz kalmamız üzerine düşünüyorum ve okumalar yapıyorum. Her ne kadar ben “ gönüllü göçmen” statüsünde tanımlansam da zorunlu ve ya gönüllü göçün şiddet ve zulumle bağını odağıma aldım. Burada ürettiğim çalışmalarım bu doğrultuda ilerlemekte.
Index: Sanatınız ve verdiğiniz feminist mesajlar Türkiye’de nasıl karşılanıyor? İki ülke arasında bir fark görüyor musunuz ve, varsa eğer, neden kaynaklandığını düşünüyorsunuz?
Arslan: Burada ki sanat izleyicisi oldukça donanımlı haliyle çok rahat okuma yapıyorlar. Turkiye’de yaptığımdan daha az açıklama yapmam yeterli oldu diyebilirim. Genel olarak sanat izleyicisini bilgi yelpazesi geniş, feminist ya da diğer politik meselelerle ilgili bilgi sahibiler o yüzden empati kurabiliyorlar. Üretim metedodlarım aşina oldukları yötemler ve metaforlar. Çalışmalarım salt Türkiye’de karşımıza çıkan meseleler de değil, güncel ve uluslararası arenada da örneklerini gördüğümüz konular.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”104413″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://ozgularslan.com/silencia-silence/”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1546851612980-bd13bbff-a326-1″ taxonomies=”15469″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”104347″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes”][vc_column_text]Deniz Altınay doses and tamps coffee in a way that shows he has done it many times before. Just three years ago, his daily routine used to be much different.
Back then, he would often stand in front of a dozen students in a classroom at the University of Mersin and lecture about media and communications. But that was before he and about 20 other academics were dismissed from the university for signing a petition calling for peace in protest against Turkish military operations in Kurdish provinces at the beginning of 2016.
Soon, the coffee machine starts to buzz and gurgle. He turns to students waiting on the other side of the counter and smiles. Along with two other dismissed academics and a friend, Altınay is one of the founders of Kültürhane, which literally means “House of Culture,” in the coastal city of Mersin. Kültürhane houses a library of 5,000 mostly donated books, a working space, as well as a café that doubles as an event venue.
Since Altınay and his partners were banned from teaching, the group of academics created a space where students could regularly drop in, learn and cram for exams. After all, even if they can’t give their high-achieving students an “A” anymore, they can at least serve them coffee and tea for their hard work. It’s a hierarchy that has been turned, if not upside-down, from vertical to horizontal in a country in which the relationship between academics and students is traditionally strict, epitomised by the word hocam, a mark of respect meaning “my teacher” or “my professor” used by every student, even when addressing them informally.
“To be honest, it was harder for our students and our friends to get used to it than for us,” Altınay says, laughing heartily. “Some of my students would say ‘Hocam, please don’t take the trouble of bringing us anything,’ and I would need to tell them ‘on the contrary, you should ask me to bring it because treating my students and friends is a great pleasure for me.’”
Kültürhane has allowed them to realise many things they wouldn’t have perceived at the university, he says. “The things we could change at the university were limited. Transforming the relationship with our students was important for us. We are no longer the university’s employees, and Kültürhane has provided us a very different kind of freedom. We can finally define the limits ourselves.”
Much like Turkey’s universities at present, the country’s streets are most certainly not spaces where people can engage in free speech. As public spaces become increasingly oppressive, the small niches of freedom like Kültürhane become even more valuable. “Here, we are making each other feel better. It’s like therapy.”
And a much needed one. When a platform called Academics for Peace issued a statement on 10 January 2016 calling for the end to Turkish military operations in a number of urban areas in southeastern Turkey, such as Cizre, Silvan, Nusaybin or Diyarbakır’s historic neighbourhood of Sur, they received overwhelming support from their colleagues. Some 1,128 academics signed the statement, while another thousand added their name to the list after the document went public. “We, as academics and researchers working on and/or in Turkey, declare that we will not be a party to this massacre by remaining silent,” the statement read. “We demand an immediate end to the violence perpetrated by the state.”
Those were strong words tearing decades of silence and hypocrisy apart. Intellectuals had kept mum when it came to the dirty military war against the Kurds, but with the nationwide Gezi protests still fresh in the memory, people were finally daring to speak up. The retribution, however, was harsh. Hundreds of academics who didn’t withdraw their signatures were first suspended and then dismissed by decree after the government acquired exceptional powers under the state of emergency that was declared in the wake of a coup attempt on 15 July 2016. Investigations were opened individually against each signatory on charges of “conducting propaganda for a terrorist organisation.”
Thirty-eight signatories of the Academics for Peace petition have been sentenced to 15 months each in prison so far, while two others have been sentenced to 18 months in jail. Some academics, such as political science professors Füsun Üstel and Büşra Ersanlı, rejected the possibility of a suspension of their sentence, meaning that they will spend time in prison when their verdict is upheld on appeal. More than 300 cases are continuing while prosecutors have also launched new trials, including cases against academics in Mersin and Adana. On the flip side, pro-government mafia boss Sedat Peker was recently acquitted in a case that was launched against him for threatening the petition’s signatories, saying he would “take a shower in [their] blood” — a ruling that clearly highlighted the concept of crime according to the Turkish judiciary doesn’t quite correspond to international human rights standards or pretty much to any conventional wisdom.
Solidarity classes against academic ban
Altınay says their ordeal is not just legal but also economic. Many academics had to leave the country to continue their career in universities in Europe or the United States. Others who stayed, either by choice or because they were slapped with a travel ban, struggle to find work and make ends meet.
But the ordeal is ultimately psychological. One of the signatories of the petition, Mehmet Fatih Traş, committed suicide months after being dismissed from the University of Çukurova, in the nearby city of Adana. A letter to a colleague revealed that Traş had experienced significant mobbing from other academics who accused him of being a “PKK sympathiser,” in reference to the outlawed Kurdistan Workers’ Party. As a result, the rector’s office cancelled three of Traş’s courses. In tribute and a reminder of the hardships some academics went through, Kültürhane’s library now bears his name.
“What we do shouldn’t be over-romanticised either,” Altınay says. “We are open seven days of the week, we work up to 10-12 hours a day. It’s physical work that also wears you out mentally, and we need to make a living out of it.”
Without a doubt, solidarity among academics has been one of the key elements that has kept them going. One of the first initiatives was founded in the city of Eskişehir in western Turkey a few months after the petition circulated. A group of academics who were suspended from their positions began organising “solidarity classes” off campus. More than 50 classes have been held since under the label of “Eskişehir School.” The initiative’s founders have now opened their own space – a café with a screening room and a workshop studio – called Uçurtma (Kite). Eskişehir, perhaps the only locality in Turkey that resembles a student city thanks to the quality of its university programs, was an ideal place for the burgeoning solidarity to bear fruit.
“We were one of the first groups which became the object of an investigation. We organised the first solidarity class in May 2016. We hadn’t been dismissed yet at the time,” said Pelin Yalçınoğlu, a former lecturer at the faculty of education of Anadolu University. “We wanted to draw attention to what universities were and show that it was not possible to lock knowledge inside a campus. If they were not going to give us space for questioning, we thought we might do it elsewhere.”
Since May 2016, people have gathered every two weeks to learn and discuss a different subject. The day of our interview, Eskişehir School was holding a class on theatre with Tülin Sağlam, a prominent expert on the art of theatre in the country. Just like the organisers, Sağlam was dismissed from her position at the prestigious language, history and geography department of the University of Ankara for signing the petition.
“There were animated debates among us when we decided to choose the name Eskişehir School for our initiative. While we were wondering how we could fulfill [the underlying ambitions], everybody loved the name.” But as time passed, the initiative needed a space to take root. Economic needs were pressing too. If the meagre financial support collected for the school was used in helping out an academic who was dismissed with one of the first emergency decrees, it wasn’t enough for the founders who soon met the same fate. And so was born Uçurtma.
“This is a space to allow Eskişehir School to continue existing,” Yalçınoğlu said. While some of her colleagues started making a transition and others kept working in jobs related to their own field, Yalçınoğlu wanted to invest herself in an activity that could feed Eskişehir School. “What we all want is actually to make Eskişehir School worthy of its name. If you call it ‘school,’ it should have a say and a perspective on the production of knowledge in this country. We would like it to do its own research, publish its own articles, organise seminars and conferences; [we just want it] to go beyond the classes.” Their new endeavour started with a two-day symposium on law and dystopia in November.
Dismissals as censorship
Both Kültürhane and Eskişehir School show that some of the dismissed academics are choosing the road less travelled and keeping up the fight by creating their own spaces for knowledge, even if it means an uncertain future for their careers. In both efforts, the common concern is that the government is now dictating what should be taught at Turkish universities, and what should not.
“There is an intense propaganda activity going on,” Altınay said. “Dismissals are part of this propaganda and also a very serious censorship mechanism. By doing so, they are erecting a very clear obstacle for the expression of certain thoughts. These are not ideological thoughts at all, but scientific truths. And they are raising a generation who won’t know anything about these scientific truths. I don’t know a bigger censorship than that.”
Kültürhane, which turned one this year, became such a breathing space for many people that the founders even became an object of mirth. “They are teasing us, ‘how fortunate that you were dismissed,’” Altınay said. In a year, they have organised around 150 events, discussions or workshops on all types of subjects and topics.
Kültürhane’s co-founder, Ulaş Bayraktar, also feels inspired by the public’s response. “We didn’t plan anything or even know what we were doing. We just had a feeling. I personally never attached a lot of meaning to being an academic or a public servant. Our means have changed, but it’s the same journey. The difference is that we don’t have an official title anymore.” For the future, he hopes to see all the initiatives cooperating together. “If we can develop such a model, I think these initiatives can leave a mark. But I am hopeful. All these efforts give us the hint of the power of being together.”
Yalçınoğlu, Altınay and Bayraktar don’t expect the current situation for dismissed academics to change in the near future. In the face of ever-worsening political pressure and a severe economic crisis, they are determined to conserve their small-scale haven of knowledge. These initiatives should perhaps also be considered as their modest response to their dismissals.[/vc_column_text][vc_images_carousel images=”104349,104348,104346,104343,104342,104341,104345″ img_size=”full” autoplay=”yes”][/vc_column][/vc_row]
21 November 2018
To the attention of:
EU High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy and Vice-President of the European Commission, Ms Federica Mogherini,
EU Commissioner for European Neighbourhood Policy and Enlargement Negotiations, Mr Johannes Hahn,
We, the undersigned organisations, urge the addressed European Union (EU) officials to discuss Turkey’s freedom of expression crisis and fractured rule of law during their high-level political dialogue with the Turkish government on 22 November 2018.
More than 160 journalists are imprisoned in Turkey today, with hundreds more on trial for exercising their right to freedom of expression. In 2018, the World Press Freedom Index ranked Turkey as 157 out of 180 countries, on the basis of the level of freedom available to journalists. Since 2016, Turkey’s position in the index has progressively decreased from 151 in 2016 and 155 in 2017. Journalists and media outlets are mostly targeted on charges of affiliation with, membership of, or propaganda for a terrorist organisation, charges mostly linked to the attempted coup of July 2016. Despite the lifting of a two-year-long state of emergency on 18 July 2018, and its replacement with similarly restricting legislation, such attacks are still taking place. Just last week, on 16 November 2018, in a targeted operation against civil society,13 people including academics, journalists and lawyers were arrested on suspicions of similar charges, some of whom were subsequently released under judicial control.
Following the attempted coup in July 2016, the Turkish authorities cracked down on independent press and journalists, resulting in widespread closures of media outlets, dismissal of 10,000 media workers and mass prosecutions of journalists. The Turkish judicial system has thus far failed to provide redress in these cases, a further sign of the deterioration of the rule of law in Turkey.
The European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) response to this situation has been weak until now: focusing on the need to exhaust domestic remedies as a principle of admissibility of cases before the Court, and failing to fully recognise the impact of the repression of which Turkish journalists and civil society are the victims. Where ECtHR rulings on journalists have been made they have been blatantly ignored and not implemented by the Turkish authorities. Newly introduced legislation in Turkey, dovetailing in many cases provisions concerning purportedly temporary and exceptional measures introduced under the state of emergency in order to respond to the attempted coup, also casts a shadow over respect for human rights in the country.
We remind you that pursuant to the Treaties, the European Union’s “aim is to promote peace, its values and the well-being of its peoples” and that “in its relations with the wider world, the Union shall uphold and promote its values and interests”, including contributing to the protection of human rights. Given the mandate of your roles within the European Union’s system, we urge you to include the above-mentioned issues at the heart of your conversation with the Turkish government during the high-level political dialogue planned in Ankara on 22 November 2018. In particular, we request you to engage with Turkish authorities with a view to agreeing on concrete actions aimed at the protection of journalists and human rights defenders in Turkey, for the respect of the right to freedom of expression in Turkey. Finally, we demand that the EU stresses the need for Turkey to concretely improve its respect for the rule of law and human rights, as a prerequisite for a further deepening of the EU-Turkey relationship.
Yours sincerely,
Article 19
International Press Institute
European Federation of Journalists
Index on Censorship
Reporters Without Borders
Pen International
English Pen
Norwegian Pen
Articolo 21
cc.
Mr Pier Antonio Panzeri, Chair of the European Parliament’s Human Rights Committee European Parliament Rue Wiertz Altiero Spinelli 15G205 1047 Brussels
Mr David McAllister, Chair of the European Parliament’s Foreign Affairs Committee European Parliament Rue Wiertz
Altiero Spinelli 15G205 1047 Brussels
Mr Christian Berger, Head of EU Delegation in Turkey Büyükesat Mahallesi Uğur Mumcu Cd. No:88 06700 Çankaya/Ankara Turkey
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After 495 days in pre-trial detention on a trumped-up charge of terrorism, Murat Sabuncu was allowed to return to his desk as editor-in-chief of Cumhuriyet in March 2018. In a country where around 90 percent of the media is slavishly pro-government, Cumhuriyet — Turkey’s oldest and arguably its most prestigious newspaper — had established a reputation for independence and as a standard-bearer for journalistic reporting.
His reinstatement lasted a mere six months. A ruling by the Supreme Court of Appeals on 7 September resulted in the dismissal of several members of staff, including Sabuncu. A new board was appointed and with it came a shift in editorial policy. Those who took control of the paper were none other than the people who testified against Cumhuriyet staff in the first place. Around 30 journalists and writers — some of whom had also been in jail — resigned in protest.
Cumhuriyet had been split between competing factions for years: a group of left-wing nationalists, who saw themselves as defenders of the Atatürkist doctrine, and another group consisting of journalists and writers ranging from social democrats to socialists who are much more critical of the country’s official ideology, particularly on the Kurdish issue. That feud has only escalated in recent years as Turkey has become increasingly polarised, not just between religious and secular, but also between nationalists, including within the Islamic community, and those who demand a confrontation with the dark pages of the country’s history.
A key question is whether the latest change in management is a natural consequence of the divide or part of the government’s continued efforts to silence a powerful oppositional voice – especially at a time when the judiciary’s independence is routinely up for debate.
Ahmet Şık, a prominent and outspoken journalist, recently turned MP for the pro-Kurdish Peoples’ Democratic Party (HDP), has no doubts about the answer. “Those who are claiming to have liberated Cumhuriyet are the same ones who collaborated with people who arrested us, threw us in prison by serving as false witnesses,” Şık tweeted. “They are no better than those who have looted this country.”
Şık spent time in pre-trial detention and was released in March 2018 along with Sabuncu. Both men were eventually sentenced on 25 April to seven-and-a-half years in prison on terror-related charges but were freed pending appeal.
Godsend for the government
Cumhuriyet is a unique example in Turkey. While most media organisations in the country are run by a corporation, it is administrated by a non-profit organisation called the Cumhuriyet Foundation. The chairman of the new board is Alev Coşkun, a former politician who has been a board member since the early 1990s. A lot of Şık’s anger is directed towards Coşkun, who was chairman prior to the board election held in 2013. When Coşkun lost, he sued his own newspaper. After a four-year-long legal spat, the board was invalidated by the Supreme Courts of Appeals. In his capacity of the acting chairman, Coşkun convened a new board election, which he eventually won over Akın Atalay, with the support of other discontented ex-board members. Atalay, a lawyer by profession, was the latest defendant released from pre-trial detention in the Cumhuriyet case. He was also given the longest sentence of eight years, one month and 15 days for “aiding a terrorist organisation without being a member”.
Coşkun’s role in the case against Cumhuriyet has been controversial. “He is the person responsible for the investigation,” says Ergin Cinmen, one of the lawyers who represented Cumhuriyet’s staff during the trial. “The trial was launched after Coşkun testified to the prosecutor. Coşkun was also heard during the trial as the prosecutor’s witness and repeated his accusations.”
The nature of Coşkun’s allegations proved to be a godsend for the government, according to Banu Güven, a journalist who closely followed the trial. “The arguments used against the former board in their dispute contain precisely the accusations the government desired,” she says.
The background of the case goes back to 2008 when a police operation named Ergenekon was launched against military officers accused of plotting a coup and their alleged media connections. Cumhuriyet’s Ankara office was searched and veteran Ankara bureau chief Mustafa Balbay arrested along with the revered editorialist İlhan Selçuk. The latter, who was 73 years old at the time, was released two days later, but Balbay remained in pre-trial prison for almost five years. The investigations were allegedly led by prosecutors and police officers linked to the movement around the cleric Fethullah Gülen, then an ally of the government.
In 2013 this narrative was turned upside down. After one of the prosecutors who had overseen Ergenekon instigated probes against ministers and pro-government businessmen, the split between the ruling party and the Gülen movement reached a point of no return. Gülen was now seen as the arch nemesis of the government and would be accused of orchestrating the failed coup attempt of 15 July 2016. Ergenekon convicts, including Balbay and former chief-of-staff İlker Başbuğ, were set free. Verdicts against them were quashed by the Supreme Court of Appeals. To top it all, the entire Ergenekon plot to overthrow the government came to be regarded as a fiction invented by Gülen organisation members. Liberals, guilty in the eyes of staunch secularists for turning a blind eye to the Islamic roots of the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP), were now blamed by the government for being tools of the Gülen movement.
In the middle of all this, Coşkun lost his election to the board. The paper changed under his successor Atalay, particularly following the appointment of Can Dündar as the new editor-in-chief in 2015. Cumhuriyet’s editorial policy became a less “old school”. It was more outspoken on the Kurdish issue at a time when the government was whipping up tensions around the conflict with renewed and vicious military operations in the southeast. The newspaper began unequivocally distancing itself from the political establishment. In May 2015 Cumhuriyet ran pictures that allegedly showed weapons sent to Jihadi groups in Syria on trucks belonging to the Turkish intelligence agency. This, as far as the government was concerned, was the last straw. Accused of “treason” by president Recep Tayyip Erdogan during a live broadcast, Dündar was arrested and charged with espionage. His editorial policy was declared the root of all evil.
“What makes the trial against Cumhuriyet unique is that the case is entirely based on criminal charges laid out against an editorial policy,” says Cinmen. “This is something unprecedented in the world.”
“Journalism was on trial,” says Güven. “The objective was to eradicate a pluralist editorial policy backing freedoms and peace.” She stresses that while the new board members accused their predecessors of being “liberals who had supported Erdogan against the military tutelage,” they were the ones who collaborated with the government in laying the groundwork for the trial.
A “lost struggle” for editorial independence
When Coşkun testified to the prosecutor days after the raid on Cumhuriyet’s offices on 31 October 2016, he was seen carrying an edition of Cumhuriyet which featured a report on Gülen on its front page. It also emerged that Coşkun had written an anonymous letter to the president’s office. In the letter, Coşkun accused his successor of having “organic ties” with both the Gülen organisation and the pro-Kurdish HDP. His allegations echoed Balbay’s statement after he had stopped writing for Cumhuriyet a few months before. “Everything from being [pro-Gülen] to pro-Kurdish is allowed at Cumhuriyet,” Balbay tweeted.
Both Coşkun and Balbay were witnesses for the prosecution, causing a huge uproar in the court. During Coşkun’s court statements when he deplored the presence of Turhan Günay, Cumhuriyet’s literary editor who had spent nine months in prison despite his later acquittal. “Why is Günay even here in this trial?” Coşkun asked. Günay’s voice interrupted his statement: “Thanks to you, sir.”
If Coşkun’s role has rubbed salt in the defendants’ wounds during the case, Cinmen argues that the government was determined to silence Cumhuriyet no matter what. “The decision had been made,” he says. “Coşkun and his letter were merely instrumentalised.”
Academic Ceren Sözeri, one of Turkey’s most prominent media experts, also emphasises that the newspaper won’t adopt a pro-government policy just because Coşkun was re-elected as chairman. Yet the new board may also have to pay its dues to the government, Sözeri warns. “If the operation against Cumhuriyet is usually thought as two separate trials (the management case and the criminal case), it was essentially a struggle for editorial independence. I believe that this struggle was lost.”
Güven believes that the change in management was the result of direct government intervention. If there is one subject the old board and the government agreed on, Güven argues, it was the Kurdish issue. A shift of the newspaper’s tone on the Kurdish issue was to become decisive. “Though there are still opposition writers in Cumhuriyet, the newspaper is now more acceptable in the government’s eyes.”
After taking over the newspaper, the new board solemnly announced in a front-page editorial that Atatürk and his principles “had returned to the newspaper”. “Harsh accusations against the previous editorial policy and statements in the form of martial law declarations show that [the board’s] concerns go beyond merely reporting,” says Sözeri. She stresses that the way the newspaper changed hands played a “decisive role” for those journalists and writers who resigned. “It is very hard, even impossible doing real journalism on government’s terms,” she says.
In a country where shifts in the editorial policies of newspapers are only considered natural after changes in management, Sözeri warns that the handover in Cumhuriyet could be a tragic turning point. “Protecting editorial independence is key to preventing such shifts,” she says. “This is only possible through association and solidarity.”
Without that solidarity, an important press freedom case degenerated into one in which both journalists’ freedom and the very future of their newspaper were at stake.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1539616867253-70d074aa-d114-8″ taxonomies=”55″][/vc_column][/vc_row]