7 Jan 2014 | News and features, Religion and Culture, Turkey
Meltem Arikan
In the days after the Gezi Park protests, Turkish playwright and author Meltem Arikan found herself at the centre of a government-led hate campaign that left her fearing for her life.
Arikan, now living in the United Kingdom, left Turkey because of the vicious and sustained campaign against her on social media and TV. She was subjected to a continuous barrage of brutal verbal abuse and rape and death threats. The attacks were fronted by Turkish politicians who accused her, and the people behind the production of her play Mi Minor, of being the architects of the Gezi Park demonstrations. The campaign was targeted and persecutory, “like a witch hunt in the 15th century” and members of the public were encouraged by politicians to create Twitter accounts and join the action against her.
This was not the first time that the government had tried to silence her. Arikan’s 2004 novel Stop Hurting my Flesh tells the story of women’s lives that have been left devastated by experiences of sexual abuse and incest. The novel was banned by the government accusing it of “destroying the Turkish family order, offending the Namus (honour) of the society, arousing sexual desire in the readers and disturbing the order of society by inducing fear within women, by using a feminist approach.”
Arikan was interviewed by Index on Censorship Head of Arts Julia Farrington.
Index: How did censorship of your novel affect you?
Arikan: When you experience censorship or a ban you don’t feel fully comfortable about the things you produce. You always have the feeling of “what’s going to come out of this now?” I have already discovered that when my work connects with real lives, I get into trouble.
When they banned my novel, I felt so furious, pure fury. Really. And after that I started a lot of campaigns. Before my novel if you said the word “incest” on TV you would be fined. But the act of incest itself was not punished at all. And you couldn’t open a case on incest because there was no law against incest. They only had child abuse but they are totally different things. My campaigns contributed to the word being accepted, and the law has changed as a result of these campaigns. Later I was awarded the ‘Freedom of Thought and Speech Award’ by the Turkish Publishers Association. But none of this stopped my fury. And then I understood that people are actually comfortable with the way things are. And that when I try to talk about something uncomfortable, people think that I am paranoid, or exaggerating so I stopped. And I started to focus on the world as a whole through social media.
Index: What started your interest in social media?
Arikan: When Wikileaks published the data cables, it shook the male dominated world order. Seeing that world leaders were powerless to stop Wikileaks from fearlessly publishing data cables, excited me very much. Turkish press did not pay enough attention to what was happening around the world. That’s why I started to follow the developments from world press and social media. I started using my Facebook and Twitter accounts more, to inform the people in my country about the happenings. I was not interested in social media as much before, but afterwards I spent most of my time sharing information. I got quite obsessed. People even wrote tweets to me to say ‘have some sleep, you need to sleep’ because I wanted to be awake when people started tweeting in US due to the time difference.
Index: How did this time spent on social media influence the writing of Mi Minor?
Arikan: For two years in social media around the time of Arab revolutions, and the Occupy movement, I felt, received and perceived what was happening around the world. I witnessed how social media gave a platform for people to share their personal stories or give information by using Twitter, broadcasting with their mobile phones using Ustream, live-stream when traditional media was silent. After I got involved in social media I didn’t care about individual countries anymore because I came to realize that interactions on social media happen regardless of the borders of distances, languages, nations, religions or ideologies, and this inspired me to create a play. It was all about the situations and events happening all around the world. Later I shared the script of Mi Minor with people from various countries. A friend from US read my play and said, this is just like US. Then during the rehearsals a friend said that it resembles Korea and another said that it was just like Turkmenistan. This was exactly what I wanted, that it was perceived by people from different countries as their own country.
As a writer it was important to be able to understand what kind of a change was happening and seeing the free flow of information and how people’s perception was changing. During that time I realised we are in a transition period from analogue to the digital world. And I was interested to see how the perception was changing, especially to see where young people’s perception was heading and how it affected the relationship between people and government.
As a woman and writer not just using the social media, but becoming aware of the kind of impact it has had, and using it to develop an art piece to make others aware of the transition we are in – all this has changed my life completely.
Index: In what ways is Mi Minor a ‘social media’ play?
Arikan: Mi Minor was a play that was set in a country called Pinima: freedom in a box deMOCKracy. During the play the audience could choose to play the President’s deMOCKracy game of the or support the Pianist’s rebellion against the system. The Pianist starts reporting all the things that are happening in Pinima through Twitter, which starts a Role Playing Game (RPG) with the audience. Mi Minor was staged as a play where an actual and social media oriented RPG was integrated with the actual performance. It was the first play of its kind in the world.
It was written to be located and performed anywhere in the world and everywhere the show would be live streamed online through Ustream and online audience would influence the action as much as the real live audience.
The actual audience could stand along side the actors, they could use their smart phones during the play to tweet, take photos and share them online in order to show the world what was happening in the fictional country Pinima. At the same time the online audience would do the same by following everything from the Pianist’s Ustream in English, which she starts from the beginning of the play. This created another platform for the actual audience and the online audience to interact with the hashtag #miminor on Twitter. In every performance there were digital actors who would be ready in front of their computers as well as the actual actors. Together they would make the play happen. On every level, the audience was made to make a choice as to which side they were going to be in Mi Minor?
We created a promotional website for Pinima that introduces you to the politics, geography and culture of this small fantasy state. I chose a lot of silly rules from other countries. I researched ridiculous laws around the world, and selected some of them, exaggerated and changed them and put them in the play.
Examples of laws and regulations from Mi Minor: There will no longer be treble sounds and the key of E on the pianos. A masterpiece of design, these brand new pianos will be down to a size that they could be carried in the pockets; President hasn’t slept for 48 hours and he listened to the telephones of people whom he randomly chose. The President declared that this shall be done by him once a week. In his declaration, he underlined that in every country; the telephones are being listened to, however they do it behind closed doors. It’s never announced to the public whose telephones are listened to. Whereas in our country what the President is doing, in the name of democracy and transparency, should be set as an example to the whole world; The president has decided that only two parties will participate in the elections. He is the presidential candidate for both parties; To protect the solidarity and morality of the family, all curtains in homes must be kept closed while having sex at home. Having sex in cars and other conveyances will be a criminal act. Also from today, bar owners are obliged to provide soup to their customers. Bars that fail to provide soup are hereby prohibited from selling alcoholic beverages; From now on, peacocks will have priority on the roads. To awaken a sleeping polar bear to take its photograph is strictly forbidden, plus, those who disturb frogs and rabbits will be fined.
Index: The play has been translated into English but not yet published. Can you give us an idea of the story?
Arikan: I really didn’t want to tell a story. With Mi Minor I wanted to create a situation in which people, anywhere in the world, could see what they do when they were given the opportunity to change something – do they get involved or do they keep quiet?
Index: And when you performed it in Istanbul what did the audience do?
Arikan: At the beginning, during the first couple of performances the audience mainly kept back. Later, there were some very active women and young people, high school and university students, who would be against the system in Pinima during the performances. In each play there were also those who chose to support the system and showed their respect and love to the President of Pinima. Audience who are used to conventional theatre chose to sit in the stalls and watch the action. They didn’t get so involved as the others. I must say, that those who are not aware of the digital world couldn’t get properly involved with the play but those who are aware of it enjoyed every minute of the play and took action using their imaginations.
Index: How did the online audience behave, interact? Did the anonymity and separation made the online audience more or less radical?
Arikan: Using the digital media tools gave the both digital and actual audience another platform to express themselves about what they perceive or experience in the Pinima world during the play. And as far as I observed, the anonymity and separations made them more radical all around the world.
Index: Some pro-government media have claimed that the play was designed as a rehearsal for the demonstrations in Gezi Park.
Arikan: When I read the accusations on some pro-government newspapers and later watched how it was taken to an extreme level on TV programs, I was shocked. In my play my intention was to criticise the patriarchy and perception of the analogue world all around the world. Even though all the countries in the world are being ruled by different leaders, even though it seems like every country has a different system of its own, I believe there is only one domination that exists and that is the Patriarchy.
When I was researching for Mi Minor [in 2011] I did everything I could so that the play wasn’t associated with Turkey, or the particular situation of Turkish politics, or any other actual country. It was a fictional dystopia. Mi Minor is an absurd play and it is too worrying to see how absurdity can be accused of being responsible for the reality of what happened in Gezi Park.
And the most interestingly worrying is that these accusations are still on-going. I wrote an absurd play and now my life has become more absurd then my play.
Index: One of the icons of the Gezi Park demonstrations was a woman in a red dress and the pianist in the Mi Minor wears a red dress. And someone took a piano into the Taksim Square. Is this a coincidence?
Arikan: One of the icons of Gezi Park demonstrations being the woman in red dress and the revolutionary pianist with red dress in my play Mi Minor is a coincidence. When I was writing the play, I was criticized by many for choosing to put a piano at the Pinima square. When they said it would be ridiculous to have a piano at the square, an instrument such as guitar or violin would be much better; I strongly stood against it and refused to change it. During the Gezi Park demonstrations I was surprised to see a piano being brought to the Taksim Square on TV. But then months later I was literally shocked when I saw the picture of another piano in the middle of the protests in Ukraine.
On the other hand Oscar Wilde says, “…life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”
As a woman writer, for three years I tried to understand the transition period from analogue to the digital world and I wrote many articles about this subject. After writing articles about this transition period to digital world, I decided to write a play to convey my vision to society as well. Today I’m seeing how one after the other my predictions in my articles and in my play are coming to life.
When I was writing Mi Minor, I have recognised that the younger generation who are widely perceived to be wasting their time in front of their computers and therefore apolitical, could, if given a platform to express themselves, become political and resist a the oppressions of the analogue system together as women and men. That’s why I created the characters in the play called The Teenagers who joined the pianist in the revolution. During the performances I have witnessed that young people, high school and university students were the most active members of the audience. When I look at what happened during the Gezi Park demonstrations I can clearly see how right I was. Unlike everyone else, I had no difficulty understanding the behaviour of these digital teenagers and young adults who were peacefully resisting the authorities out on the streets and parks as well as social media without any attempt of violence, without any leadership.
Even before writing my play in one of my articles I said,
“…We are in a transition from analogue to the digital world. During this transition the common problematic of all sides of the world, from East to the West, from South to the North, is the concept and perception of freedom in societies.
The West is still being dominated with the data and foundations of the analogue world. The transition from analogue to the digital world does not just involve the technological developments but also involves the change in the perception of people. Even though, the West says, “yes” to this transition on technological developments, -just like the East- it says “no” in terms of social and psychological developments of this transition…”
Also, at the time I wrote this article, the news about Snowden hadn’t been leaked and the global debates about surveillance hadn’t started yet.
So my question that I would like to see debated: Would you be potentially guilty if you can foresee what could happen in the world?
This article was posted on 7 Jan 2013 at indexoncensorship.org
7 Aug 2013 | Egypt, News and features, Politics and Society, Religion and Culture, Turkey, Turkey Statements
Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan (Photo: Philip Janek / Demotix)
While Turkey this week jailed its former Chief of Staff, General Ilker Basbug, in Egypt, General Sisi’s popularity is still riding high following the army’s ousting of President Morsi.
Yet the mass prosecutions and heavy sentencing under the so-called Ergenekon case in Turkey do not simply show a welcome assertion of civilian over military power. Nor does the military’s role in Egypt constitute what US secretary of state John Kerry rather remarkably referred to a week ago as “restoring democracy” – contradicted this week by John McCain for the first time calling the coup a coup.
Both Turkey and Egypt have failed so far to find a way to reconcile democracy, Islam, and the role of the military. And while a big segment of the Egyptian population is now rashly putting its faith in its army to lead it to a fully functioning pluralist democracy, Turkey’s recent past shows precisely why that might result in modernisation but not democracy.
Yet the recent protests in both countries also show that majoritarian democracy, without respect for the rule of law, human rights, and media freedom, will not lead to a fair, open and stable democratic system either. Where Turkey was once seen as the poster boy for democracy in a Muslim majority country, that picture is now truly tarnished. But the route via military power will never make a good alternative model.
The Military and Kemalism
Turkey for decades followed a path – led by its military and various Kemalist and secularist supporters – of modernisation and westernisation, a sort of quasi-democracy with the military there as a ‘guard rail’ against Islamists and other ‘enemies’ of the state. This army-protected approach did little to propel democracy though it led to some substantial economic and social modernisation especially in the west of Turkey (though its neglect of the smaller businesses of central Anatolia was one part of Erdogan’s remarkable success when he swept to power in 2002).
But, without proper political accountability or a genuinely independent judiciary and free media, corruption and the ‘deep state’ grew and prospered in Turkey tying together a range of unlikely bedfellows, while labelling as dangerous enemies a range of people from Islamists to Kurds, leftists and Alevis with civil society, academics and independent journalists seen as at best deeply suspicious too.
Turkey’s last military coup was in 1980 but the so-called ‘soft coup’ of 1997 pushed the Justice and Development Party (AKP)’s predecessor out of power. Frustrated and oppressed by military-backed politics, when Erdogan’s Islamist-leaning AKP came into power in 2002, many liberals welcomed it as heralding and introducing major steps forward in starting to create a genuinely pluralist democracy, one that would respect minorities, seriously tackle Turkey’s appalling record of torture, and open up the prospect of finally replacing the 1982 military-imposed constitution.
The nationalist-secularist deep state was less impressed fearing underlying Islamist intentions. But attempts at an ‘e-coup’ in 2007 (through military expressed disapproval of the Erdogan government) to the attempted banning of the AKP in the ‘judicial coup’ of the following year failed. And so over his eleven years in power, Erdogan has asserted increasing civilian control over the military.
But the over-reach in the Ergenekon trials, with a wide range of observers criticising the politicisation of the prosecution, lack of due process, and the severity of the sentencing, some labelling it a witch hunt, suggest a process more of political revenge or what commentator Cengiz Candar labels “civilian authoritarianism” rather than a democratic breakthrough. With only 21 acquitted from 275 defendants, in a very wide set of charges around terrorism and coup plots, the Ergenekon sentences mark a moment of deepening political division in Turkey. The draconian nature of the sentences against several journalists and writers have been severely criticised by Dunja Mijatovic, the OSCE’s freedom of the media representative and condemned by the Association of European Journalists.
As this more authoritarian Turkish democracy has developed over the last five years, Turkey’s media has become ever less independent, ever more crushed or complicit – with more journalists in jail than in China and Iran, and sacking of columnists and editors rife even before the surge in dismissals that followed the recent Gezi Park protests and the Ergenekon imprisonments.
Nor has Erdogan stopped at media pressure and control. Turkey has a weak record on internet freedom too. The European Court of Human Rights ruled in May this year that Turkey’s blanket blocking of sites violated freedom of expression – a ruling that will doubtless not have impressed Erdogan and his ministers who were so outraged by free speech on Twitter and other social media during the recent protests.
But it would be hard to argue that Turkey would be better off today if it reverted to its old, failed ways of military coups and a corrupt, elitist deep state. Turkey needs a truly independent, impartial and honest judiciary, a free, strong media to hold politicians to account, a free and open internet. And it also needs healthy dynamic opposition parties too. Yet the recent mass protests showed only too clearly that the stumbling Republican People’s Party (CHP) has still failed to find a convincing modern democratic voice, even as Erdogan has shifted from progressive to more authoritarian ways. The masses of protesters – looking for a more genuine, pluralist democracy – still lack serious political parties to work through.
It is a vicious circle – as the lack of dynamic opposition parties interacts with the ever crumbling, no longer independent media, government over-reach and the failure to introduce a modern constitution respecting human rights, free speech, and an independent judiciary.
Any Lessons for Egypt?
It is this sort of majoritarianism democracy, but worse, that Egypt has now supplanted with its own protest-backed military coup. Morsi’s government had lurched into an authoritarianism that went a long way beyond where Erdogan has taken Turkey. Where Erdogan failed to introduce a new constitution, Morsi rammed one through that undermined any hopes of establishing a genuine pluralist democracy with full respect for human rights for all.
But the omens for Egypt’s coup as a pro-democracy move are not good. The military have moved rapidly to restore in full public sight various secret police groups. Muslim Brotherhood politicians, including Morsi, are in jail, protesters have been shot and killed – often in the head or chest in what many have called a massacre. And media are being watched, with those sympathetic to the Muslim Brotherhood closed down or censored. This week 75 judges were questioned about their political sympathies for the Brotherhood – a step the Turkish deep state would have only applauded and concurred with. The so-called Third Square movement, attempting to create support for a new democratic path that supports neither military nor Morsi, is so far small compared to the other two camps.
The US, EU and Arab diplomats are now stepping in urgently – attempting to stop a lurch into indefinite and widespread violence, and to stop further killings as the Egyptian authorities threaten to close down the two Brotherhood protest camps in Cairo. But today disturbingly the interim presidency said these efforts have failed – more violence may well loom.
The same challenge
In the end both Turkey and Egypt face the same challenge: how to get to a fully functioning democracy, with rights for all not just the majority. It cannot be done through military coups, violence and military-backed modernisation. It cannot be done through street protests alone. And where Erdogan’s AKP in 2002 showed a possible way ahead, that model now lies in tatters as Erdogan has shed his progressive mantle.
Yet the tools and the vital steps are not a mystery; they include a free and independent media, full respect for human rights, an independent judiciary, and a vibrant set of political parties. The political challenge is how to create and defend those tools; that is the big task for progressive civil society and for genuinely democratic politicians in both countries – and for their supporters in other countries.
25 Jul 2013 | Turkey, Turkey Uncensored, Volume 42.02 Summer 2013
Journalist Yavuz Baydar has been fired by Turkish daily newspaper Sabah, after articles he wrote criticising the government were censored
In the latest report, Freedom in the World 2013, Freedom House defines Turkey as ‘partly free’.
Authorities in Ankara – both the government and bureaucrats – refute these claims, although the Ministry of Justice openly admits that there are serious shortcomings when it comes to providing for freedom of expression, both in law and implementation.
Some international organisations, such as the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) and the European Federation of Journalists (EFJ), meanwhile, help build the myth that Turkey tops the world rankings for one of the worst ‘oppressive’ states because of the number of jailed journalists there. The Committee to Protect Journalists reports that there are 49 journalists in prison, while Reporters Sans Frontières put the number at 72, if the number of people includes all jailed media professionals. But claims that the country is entirely free or grossly oppressive are both wrong. These extreme views must be taken with a pinch of salt; the truth is somewhere in between.
The complexities of Turkey today make it a unique case, demanding careful examination so that clichés can be dispersed, particularly those deriving from the perception that the country remains a police state, as it was prior to the late 1990s.
Turkey today is exactly as Freedom House says it is: not ‘free’, nor ‘not free’, but ‘partly free’.
In this context, Turkey’s problems are already out in the open.
Thousands of Kurdish activists connected to the Koma Civakên Kurdistan network – affiliated with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) – as well as around 200 students and 72 other journalists and activists (mainly Kurdish) are in detention.
According to the monitoring site engelliweb.com, internet access is blocked to approximately 9000 websites, mostly on an arbitrary, non-transparent basis.
Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdog˘an regularly files libel charges against journalists and cartoonists, a move that singles him out because other powerful figures do not engage in similar practices. He has developed a habit of lashing out at the media in public, which has had dire consequences.
The so-called ‘mainstream media’, in other words, the 85 per cent of it controlled by proprietors who are for the most part engaged in vast business activities other than media (and therefore dependent on the government for economic interests), is suffocated and distinctly lacking in freedom and editorial independence.
In big media outlets, fierce censorship and self-censorship are practised on a daily basis.
They are severely crippled in their pursuit of journalism, unable or unwilling to cover corruption and abuse of power or to allow critical voices and dissent to be heard. When it comes to particular topics, such as criticism of the government, corruption or abuse of power, news stories are either filtered or unpublished; direct censorship – the actual blacking out of text – is exercised when material is found to be ‘too sensitive’ for the government’s or newspaper owners’ interests. But at the same time, there is little problem with pluralism and diversity, as opposed to countries like Iran, China, Azerbaijan or Belarus. With more than 40 national dailies (including a few independent newspapers and a vital partisan, antigovernment press), 2500 local papers, 250 private TV channels (of which 18 broadcast news seven days a week, 24 hours a day), 1300 radio stations and more than 150 news websites and online portals, Turkey has a big, competitive sector. Internet access is increasing at a huge rate, with access passing the 50 per cent mark recently. Because of the internet, despite attempts to command control, this is a milieu in which no story or comment is missed.
Anti-terror law and Ergenekon
The state of Turkey’s media freedom has been oversimplified, looking only at the number of journalists incarcerated without distinction, without looking closely at the specifics for those detentions. It’s a remnant of Cold War mentality. ‘Turkey is an undemocratic country’ has become almost like a slogan, concealing far deeper problems that extend throughout many sectors and structures within Turkish society.
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It is true that people are in jail for voicing dissent, among them journalists. Almost all of them are Kurds who, because of the very nature of the Kurdish cause they pursue, combine publishing and self-expression with activism. This means their activity falls inside the boundaries of the utterly problematic Anti-Terror Law, which makes it extremely difficult to distinguish between those who
are members of terrorist groups that commit acts of violence or praise acts of terrorism and those who are simply exercising their right to express opinion. Dissidents, including journalists, have faced detention and prosecution because the law makes it practically impossible to make these important distinctions. The Anti-Terror Law must, at the very least, be revised so that it conforms to the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) or, better still, abolished altogether.
Around 10 per cent or so of those jailed are Turkish journalists whose imprisonment relates to the Ergenekon case – a clandestine, undemocratic, politically motivated mafiastyle network that, among other acts over a number of years, plotted a series of coups to oust the government and parliament. Since 2008, dozens of journalists have been arrested in connection with Ergenekon plots, together with hundreds of military officers.
Yet, in these cases, the most obvious clash with ECHR directives has to do with the extremely lengthy detention periods and trial procedure (take, for example, the case of Özkan vs Turkey). Needless to say, Turkey should have determined these periods of incarceration in line with international standards, including EU human rights legislation, releasing journalists while they awaited their trials. But apart from these cases, the European Court of Human Rights has rejected many appeals lodged by the accused, undercutting the assumption held by many that journalists should enjoy immunity even when charged with serious crimes such as conspiracy.
In addition to anti-terror laws, there are dozens of articles – in the Penal Code, in Turkey’s Internet Law, the Press Law and Turkish Radio and Television Law – that restrict freedom of expression and freedom
of the press. Some are implemented on a regular basis and some remain dormant, though still on the books. These punitive measures threaten freedom in Turkey, applying not only to media but also to academia, NGOs, political parties and ordinary citizens across the country.
The rise of independent media and the threat to public interest
Paradoxically, Turkish ‘glasnost’ under the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) over the past decade, with the immense help of the EU accession process, has meant, for the most part, that there are no longer many taboo subjects. National mass hypnosis is over. Tiny but independent news outlets – like the dailies Taraf and Zaman or the weekly Nokta – have helped broaden debate about the country’s murky past, untangle myths about the army being the guardian of the system and expose crimes against humanity.
In a pluralist and hugely diverse environment such as Turkey’s, it would be a lie to claim that news dissemination has been fully blocked. Take the case of the Uludere bombing in 2011, when a group of Kurdish villagers were attacked by Turkish fighter jets as they travelled from Iraq along a well-known smugglers’ route, resulting in 34 deaths. Main media group outlets failed to report on the killings for almost a day, but minor papers and those using social media began reporting on the incident
within minutes of it happening.
It could be argued that Turkey has one of the most independent medias in the world – it is truly a phenomenon.
Many countries in democratic transition after the end of the Cold War have had complex changes in their media environment, particularly in southeastern Europe, the Black Sea region and the North Caucasus. From the late 1980s on, this environment has been marked by the emergence of a new type of media proprietor who often – as in some Balkan countries as well as in Russia – entered the media sector with other businesses in tow, with mafia-like habits and connections, with the aim of money laundering, or with enormous greed. For the most part, these players aimed to use media outlets as a tool for keeping government and bureaucracy in check because they became fearful of what might be reported in this new, thriving media landscape, but these people and companies only had personal business gains in mind. Turkey has been part of this reality, and those coming to it from wellestablished, high-standard media environments in the West either do not understand or do not consider the considerable threats to media freedom to be important.
In some countries, for example, Albania, Serbia and Ukraine, media conglomerate proprietors operate in alliance with the ruling powers, establishing politics-media cooperation in the service of their mutual interests, rather than allowing media to serve the public interests.
This addictive system is the primary source of censorship and self-censorship in the wider region, and the blame for destroying the prospects of good journalism must be shared equally between politicians and media owners. In Turkey, in most cases, proper coverage of corruption and any investigative journalism are completely dead. Because this proprietor prototype is in essence non-transparent, Turkey’s media has never bothered to or been in a position to demand transparency or accountability from those in control of the news. In this context, nowhere in the world is the self-destructive role of media proprietors more visible, more irrational or more aggressive than in Turkey
On 19 October 2011, Prime Minister Erdog˘an assembled media proprietors in Ankara to ask for ‘help’ regarding ‘terror coverage’. It’s a call the media should have rejected, but instead they went beyond even what the prime minister had desired: they openly begged him to tell them exactly how long he thought TV dispatches on funerals connected with terrorism should be and shamelessly offered to set up a ‘censorship committee’ by themselves! If created, it would be tasked with ‘filtering’ news prior to publication, particularly when it pertained to clashes between the military and the PKK and political statements issued by them and other Kurdish activists.
In a more recent case, on 18 March 2013, there were reports that the proprietor of the daily newspaper Milliyet, Erdog˘an Demirören, forced veteran pundit Hasan Cemal to resign after he wrote a column defending the right to publish accurate stories, no matter how ‘disturbing’ they would be for the government or media owners. The article was never published, a breach of the journalist’s contract with his employer. Accused of causing the departure of Cemal, Prime Minister Erdog˘an, in his blunt manner some days later, explained that the very same proprietor had visited him to ask whom he should appoint as editor-in-chief for the newspaper.
The uphill struggle: how to solve Turkey’s media dilemmas?
These episodes speak volumes about how polluted Turkey’s media corporate culture is today. Media professionals – by which I mean real, decent journalists, and not those who either defend the government no matter what, or those who condemn it outright under the false belief that all journalism must be oppositional and not critical – face two rather hopeless challenges.
The first frontline for journalists is the political executive and the legislature. Unless the current government amends all laws in favour of freedom of expression and the press, these problems will keep reappearing. In general, the current parliament is a forum of intolerance for freedom of the press, opinion and dissent. In the mindset of the current parliament, the ‘old Turkey’ still rules.
Secondly, media proprietors represent a real challenge to free speech: most of them have no clue about the role and nature of good journalism.
I have long argued that unless these media owners are challenged, one cannot simply go on blaming everything on the political powers. But how do we challenge media owners? Because this is the key to enhancing freedom and independence in Turkey.
It is an uphill struggle. Journalists in Turkey have been forced to live under the ‘unholy alliance’ between governments and big media owners. It is a vicious cycle and very tough to break. We must persuade owners not to interfere in editorial decisions and let us be; we must encourage them to ct transparently in their businesses. Currently, none of them has the civil courage or the wisdom to be on the side of journalists’ fight for freedom.
We could try to persuade the government to ban media owners from entering public tenders, restrict cross-ownership, support local media and allow high share investments for foreign capital owners, with the aim of giving much more autonomy to the national broadcaster, Turkish Radio and Television.
And, of course, we can pressure the government to ensure union activities and memberships in all media outlets are protected by law.
Although their cases are of course the most urgent, problems regarding media freedom in Turkey will not cease to exist when all the journalists in jail – detained or sentenced – are released and pardoned. Turkey can never be part of the democratic league as long as it insists on suppressing and punishing dissent and free speech. But if we limit our professional struggle to these cases only, and introduce minimal amendments to some of the worst laws, we will continue to affect only the tip of the iceberg. If we do only this, held back by a sector that is bleeding spiritually, ruled by owners who are insensitive to the profession, operating without independence, we will continue to operate in appalling conditions, where newsrooms resemble open air prisons.
Freedom must be coupled with true professional independence.
©Yavuz Baydar
Yavuz Baydar is a columnist for Today’s Zaman and was, until he published a piece criticising media ownership in The New York Times, the news ombudsman for the daily newspaper SABAH
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Turkey Uncensored is an Index on Censorship project to publish a series of articles from censored Turkish writers, artists and translators.
24 Jul 2013 | News and features, Politics and Society, Turkey
In late June, Baydar, who was reader’s editor at the newspaper, had attempted to use his regular slot in the newspaper to condemn the authorities’ actions during Istanbul’s Gezi Park protests. But the newspaper’s editorial board pulled the column.
Baydar, who took a leave of absence from the newspaper following the decision, went to to write a column in the New York Times headlined In Turkey, Media Bosses Are Undermining Democracy. The column appeared on 19 July. According to Today’s Zaman, Baydar subsequently submitted another column to Sabah, but the article was rejected, and Baydar was fired on 23 July.
In an article for the current edition of Index on Censorship magazine, written before he was fired, Baydar wrote:
In big media outlets, fierce censorship and self-censorship are practised on a daily basis. They are severely crippled in their pursuit of journalism, unable or unwilling to cover corruption and abuse of power or to allow critical voices and dissent to be heard. When it comes to particular topics, such as criticism of the government, corruption or abuse of power, news stories are either filtered or unpublished; direct censorship – the actual blacking out of text – is exercised when material is found to be ‘too sensitive’ for the government’s or newspaper owners’ interests.
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