Fireworks for New Year’s Eve. Anderson. CC2.0
From eating 12 grapes before midnight in Spain to drinking champagne with ashes and planting underwater trees in Russia, check out these 10 countries and how they celebrate the New Year in different ways. You might find some new ideas for your own New Years in 2024.
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Kurdish, Armenian and Turkish women. Yeucelnabi. CC BY-ND 2.0
Most of Turkey’s Armenian population disappeared following Turkey’s leading role in the 1915 Armenian genocide. Even today, there is only one Armenian village left in the country. While Turkish-Armenians’ rich history has slowly started to wane, many community members have come forward to teach the world of their heritage. The last remaining village is Vakifli, located in Turkey’s southern Hatay province. Home to only about 100 people, it is a popular spot in the summer for those hoping to get in touch with their Armenian roots. Now the village’s first museum has opened, giving visitors more than enough reason to visit Vakifli.
Armenians being deported. Narek781. CC BY-SA 2.0
Long before the term “genocide” was coined after the Nazis’ attempt to eradicate all Jews during World War II, the Turkish-Armenians suffered a similar fate with an estimated 1.5 million deaths. In 1915, the Ottoman Empire was in decline. At the time, over 2 million Armenians lived in Turkey; by 1922 there were fewer than 400,000. Before the Ottoman Empire’s collapse, the Christian Armenians were granted religious freedom but were subjected to higher taxes, lower wages and an overall lower standard of living.
In 1908, the Young Turk movement, mostly made up of junior army officers from the Ottoman Empire, took control of the empire in an attempt to “Turkify” the region. The group was led by a powerful triumvirate who called themselves the “Three Pashas.” During World War I, the Young Turks sided with Germany but were eventually defeated. According to The New York Times, , “Armenians were blamed for siding with the Russians” against the German-led Central Powers and were subsequently massacred under the rule of the “Committee of Union and Progress,” a political party representing the Young Turks. Harsh measures were launched against the Armenians, such as making it legal to arrest Armenians on the “sense” of them being a threat. Abandoned Armenian property was confiscated, mass deportations sent men off to labor camps to be worked to death, and “death marches” led Armenian women and children across the Syrian desert to their own concentration camps. Though the German government was reportedly “disgusted and horrified” by the Turkish government’s actions, the Three Pashas fled to Germany after the Ottoman Empire’s fall in 1918 and were given protection.
To date, the Turkish government still does not acknowledge the events that occurred surrounding the genocide of Turkish-Armenians. Legal action is even used; mentioning the Turkish state’s role in the 1915 Armenian genocide is often met with arrests and prosecution.
Musa Dagh, where Turkish-Armenians successfully resisted Ottoman troops. anthiok. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
The small village of Vakifli was established by Armenians who “successfully resisted the Ottoman army’s attacks” in 1915. 4,200 villagers were forced to retreat onto the nearby Musa Dagh (Mount Musa), “holding out for 53 days” before being rescued by Allied warships from Egypt. They were not able to return home until after the end of World War I. Vakifli sits between the Mediterranean Sea and the Syrian border and is a beautiful and unique village with a dialect no Western Armenian can understand. The iconic church that sits in the middle of the village was restored in 1994 and reopened to visitors. Now, with decreased job opportunities and lower standards of living, many of the younger generation have moved to Istanbul, a city holding far greater opportunities. This leaves the older generation to continue to hold on to what remains of the village’s culture. Recently, Vakifli has attempted to diversify its economy by promoting ecotourism and organic farming.
Vakifli church. Nurretingulay. CC BY-SA 3.0
While COVID-19 delayed the official opening of a museum celebrating Turkish-Armenian culture, even now the space is welcoming visitors. Filled with donated items such as audio recordings, photographs, traditional garb and one of the most popular exhibits - the wedding dress - the Vakiflikoy Museum shows visitors “how villagers speak,” along with their beliefs, holidays, food and traditions. Lora Baytar, the museum’s founder, and her husband hope that it gives Turkish-Armenian people a museum where they can preserve their history and culture for all the world to see.
Elizabeth Misnick
Elizabeth is a Professional Writing and Rhetoric major at Baylor University. She grew up in a military family and lived in Europe for almost half her life, traveling and living in different countries. She hopes to continue writing professionally throughout her career and publish her writing in the future.
Cesme. CharlesFred. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
An ocean view near my grandparent’s house in Cesme. Su Ertekin-Taner.
Today, my mom, younger sister, and I begin the first leg of our family’s annual trip to Turkey. Usually, we visit my Turkish parents’ childhood homes on these yearly trips, learning personal and national history that is too distant in the United States, where few close relatives live. I am a U.S. citizen with a Turkish identity. These trips help parse out parts of me, aid in my understanding of who I am — with, of course, a bit of leisure and excitement. Soon we will be partaking in this tradition. We will arrive at Cesme, where my mom’s side of the extended family waits for us. Cesme, one of the most popular vacation spots in Turkey, fills up this time of year. Located on the country’s western coast, this small town attracts many visitors from nearby Izmir, who eagerly travel an hour by car, and even some from Istanbul, who may not so eagerly await their six hour ride to the resort town.
Regardless, they all flock to Cesme. The town’s name means “fountain” in Turkish; accordingly, many come for the beaches and the water of the Aegean Sea — the fountain of the earth — but Cesme has much more to offer than that: resorts, day hikes, the Cesme castle, artisan shops, seafood restaurants, and orbiting small towns like Dalyan and Alacati.
Now, I’m getting eager and I know my extended family is too. A year has been too long for them. A year has been too long for me.
The ten hour flight doesn’t fly by. Instead, the minutes pass begrudgingly. I pass them thinking of the waves, the harbor, my grandparents’ Cesme house. Soon, but not soon enough, we arrive at a familiar small house pushed claustrophobically against its neighbors. Flowers and vines grow everywhere, and a bird or two coo. Across from my mom’s childhood home, the bright blue Aegean stretches out for miles. My eyes barely acclimate to this sort of paradise on Earth before I fall asleep.
Cesme. CharlesFred. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
A view of the Dalyan harbor. Su Ertekin-Taner.
A bite of lokma. Su Ertekin-Taner.
My mom takes me down to Dalyan via a cheap but reliable minibus. Dalyan is another small harbor town just an hour outside of the main Cesme gathering grounds, between the Fethiye and Marmaris districts. While our minibus trip takes thirty minutes, the town is an hour and a half drive from the Izmir airport.
Dalyan, though small and with a population of a little more than a couple thousand, offers many nautical traditions. The riverside dining experience is famed not only for its gastronomy (the fish), but also the riverside aspect; day-long boat tours float along the coast of the town, stopping in the odd Dalyan mud bath; and oh, the beaches. The finest salt water, found for example at Iztuzu Beach, cleanses and captivates swimmers and paddlers.
But now, it is night. We might engage in those activities later. For now, we’re walking through a quiet town. Although this town isn’t loud, its colors are: they shout their pride willingly. The green fishnets, the red-mauve roofs of houses, the turquoise pots of green leaves, the constant blue of the Aegean sea. There are too many hues to count, or rather identify.
We greedily walk near the harbor first, our eyes hungering for the myriad colors. Fish restaurants — typical of Dalyan — line the scenery, some more crowded than others, some more touristy than others. The diners have just started their mezzes, a kind of Turkish tapas, or they’re readily consuming their main course, of which sea bass is the most popular. A small band plays outside one of the restaurants, trying to attract visitors, but the restaurants are relatively overpriced for Turkey and we’re unwilling to invest; instead, we will order from a more reasonably priced seafood restaurant in the coming days. In between restaurants are boats, small and little, with or sans people. Some boat goers sing to a radio, others drink Turkish tea (cay), reminiscing on some memory or another.
Then we travel the inner street, more dangerously paved this time. The colors are still exciting here. We walk alongside apartments, markets, pharmacies, and small shops. Some boys play soccer near a tea shop, a couple struts hand in hand. This is a familial sort of place, a close neighborhood — almost. The cobblestone path we walk on eventually takes us to a lokma maker. Lokma is a traditional Turkish dessert of fried dough glistening with a sweet sugar syrup; lokma feels quite traditional, actually, to my stomach. It’s been a year since I’ve eaten my favorite dessert, and my mouth is watering.
The lokma-makers have prepared the dough and fried it in front of visitors. When the lokma arrives, I’m salivating and finally, the syrup infused dough cuts through the saliva; this is fine enough dining for me. My mom opts for a Turkish coffee which, for many, is quite bitter. I’m fine with my lokma. and I go to bed full.
Cesme Kale. Spiterman. CC BY-ND 2.0
Restaurants line Cesme harbor. Su Ertekin-Taner.
Today, the family travels to the epicenter of Cesme — about 52 miles outside of Izmir — which is not quite accurately described as Downtown Cesme because of its lack of imposing buildings. This is the most heavily populated town we’ll be visiting, with over 30,000 residents, and in some ways, the surroundings reflect this fact. We’re in a developed area, away from the sailing villages, the resorts like Altin Yunus (gold dolphin), Ilica Plaj (Ilica Beach) and Ephesus. We’re near the Cesme Marina, the shopping centers, and the Cesme castle, built to protect the town from the attacking Venetians.
The same minibus leaves us at the top, or start, of a crowded street, but one entirely without cars — it’s only people swarming here. A wide street is host to visitors and locals alike, trotting alongside jewelry stores, shoe stores, bookstores, restaurants and the most common business, gum-infused ice cream. Cesme’s gum trees are as famous as the ice cream they help produce. In the battle for most authentic gum ice cream billboards are used as ammunition, but taste is the final deciding factor in any stalemate.
Rumeli Dondurma (ice cream) wins the taste, and therefore authenticity, battle by far. Ice cream flavors like banana, melon, pistachio and chocolate are infused with some of the gum from Cesme’s gum trees to create a chewy, stretchy consistency. The ice cream is not only flavorful, but fun to eat.
With my banana ice cream in hand, we walk along the Cesme harbor now far from the streets teeming with people. Again, boats like the coast along with restaurants, but high end Turkish clothing shops also appear near the water. We practice some visual retail by gazing at the bright colors of clothing in store windows like those of Ipekyol and Yargici. Our feet have been reduced to automated machines by the time we’ve reached the end of the harbor strip and we soon find our way back to our grandparents’ home — by minibus, of course.
An artist’s shop in Alacati. Su Ertekin-Taner.
A small stone house in Alacati. CharlesFred. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
We’re close to our final days here, and Alacati is the next stop. We’re met with a sight I have yearned to see for some time: colorful stone houses, boutique hotels, small stores, art galleries, booming bars with music and local restaurants. Because of Alacati’s alluring sights, it’s no surprise that it is the site of many weddings and engagements.
We’re in a “Downtown” part of Alacati, an hour minibus ride away from Cesme and an hour car ride away from the Izmir airport, but I hesitate again to say so, because I still can’t associate the richness of this landscape with any sort of downtown. Just outside of this “Downtown” Alacati are several beaches like Delikli (hole-y) Koy named for the porous rocks along its shore, resorts, markets, the Alacati Marketplace mosque, Alacati’s famous windmills, dating back to 1850, and even windsurf clubs with day and even week-long excursions and lessons, but we’ve decided to be among the Alacati locals. We’re right in the middle of tight streets, nearly unwalkable due to the crowd, but lined with local flora.
The shops that we pass now have oriented themselves similar to the houses of Cesme — nearly on top of one another. Each shop has a well-marked, distinct storefront painted a different color and accompanied by an eager salesperson, ready to sell their own handicraft in many cases or just drinking tea outside socializing, as is Turkish tradition. The local artisans boast hand painted cups, hand-glass blown calligraphy pens, abstract art, handmade jewelry, and more. Still, as we dive deep into the spider webbing streets, the craft doesn’t end.
We reluctantly stop our trek through the tight streets and sit down at a popular Turkish dessert franchise, Ozsut. The cafe offers a selection of ice creams and chocolates as well as more traditional Turkish dessert like kazandibi (a burned pudding with milky and caramel flavors), sutlac (a Turkish rice pudding), and asure (another pudding of dried fruit, nuts, rice, wheat, chickpeas, and beans), but I end up opting for banana ice cream anyway.
Our trip comes to a close and so does this love letter to the three small towns I visited in West Turkey. To the Aegean sea, the small shops and their local artisans, the tight streets, the delicious fish, the morning, afternoon, and evening tea, to the minibus and the lokma, I wave goodbye — for now.
Su Ertekin-Taner
Su Ertekin-Taner is a first year student at Columbia University majoring in creative writing. Her love for the power of words and her connection to her Turkish roots spills into her satire, flash fiction, and journalistic pieces among other genres. Su hopes to continue writing fearless journalism, untold stories, and prose inspired by her surroundings.
Hagia Sophia. Adli WahidCC BY-SA 3.0.
Built in the 6th Century, Hagia Sophia is the oldest building in Istanbul, Turkey. This ancient structure has been an important spiritual center for both Christians and Muslims, and its history is shown through its architectural features. Here is a deep-dive into the creation of Hagia Sophia, its meaning to different cultures, and how to visit it today.
Interior of Hagia Sophia. Wolfgang Guelcker. CC BY 3.0.
Originally named “Megale Ekklesia,” or “Great Church,” Hagia Sophia was built in 360 under Emperor Constantius. After the church was destroyed by riots in 404, it was rebuilt by Emperor Theodosius in 415. During this period, the church received its current name, “Hagia Sophia,” or “Holy Wisdom.” After being burned down during a revolt in 532, the final structure of Hagia Sophia was resurrected under Emperor Justinian I in 537, with some restorations in the 14th century. This version of the church was known as the Cathedral of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, which was a spiritual center of the Eastern Orthodox Church. After the Ottoman Empire took over Constintinople in 1453, Sultan Mehmet II repurposed Hagia Sophia, which served as a mosque until becoming a museum in 1935. In 1985, Hagia Sophia became a UNESCO World Heritage site, giving official recognition its long cherished cultural value.
Greek protest against Turkey. Des Byrne. CC BY 2.0.
In 2020, Hagia Sophia was renamed a mosque under the Turkish government. This decision created controversy between Turkey and other nations, as repurposing it as a mosque draws away from the entirety of the structure’s history and the mutual respect between religions. This also strengthened existing tensions between Turkey and Greece, as Hagia Sophia was once part of the Greek Orthodox Church.
Main dome of Hagia Sophia. Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin. CC BY-SA 4.0.
Following St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, Hagia Sophia is home to the second largest pendentive dome in the world. The main dome of the structure has a diameter of 107 feet and is supported by 4 pendentives, which are large triangular arches that meet in the middle of a structure. These structures are one of the earliestlarge pendentives to ever be made. There are also two semi-domes on each side of the main one, supported by columns.
Columns in Hagia Sophia. Serafita. CC BY-SA 4.0.
Hagia Sophia has 140 columns, all from different parts of the world. For example, the purple columns supporting the semi-domes of the structure originated in Egypt. There are also green columns from the Artemis Temple in Ephesus, an ancient Greek city. The most prominent columns are made of Verde Antique stone, which was mined from quarries in the city of Larissa, Greece during the Byzantine empire. These columns are 34 feet tall, and its material was used frequently during the 6th century.
Mosaic of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. World History Encyclopaedia. CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.
Originally, Hagia Sophia displayed many Christian mosaics, but these images were covered during the Ottoman Empire. Some of these mosaics depict angels and praise Jesus and the Virgin Mary, while others take the form of emperors such as Justinian and Constantine. One of the most iconic mosaics shows the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus, and this image remains uncovered today. Created in the 860s, this is the oldest mosaic in Hagia Sophia.
People visiting Hagia Sophia. Magnus Manske. CC BY 2.0.
Though it has reverted to a mosque, Hagia Sophia is still open to the public. Visitors are required to remove their shoes before walking its carpets. Hagia Sophia is open to the public every day of the week, but closes to non-worshipping visitors during prayer hours. Guided tours of Hagia Sophia are also offered through different websites, usually for a fee.
Click here for more Hagia Sophia visitation guidelines.
Alexandra Copeland
Alexandra is a student at The College of New Jersey studying psychology and journalism. She is a lover of coffee, dancing, and visiting new places. Being raised with her Greek culture has inspired her interest in cultural customs around the world. She is a passionate writer and hopes that her work will make an impact in the future.
The beachtown of Kaş. Tutky Çetinel. CC BY 3.0.
One of the most renowned and well traveled cities in the world, Istanbul, peaked at 16 million tourists last year. The mosque- and artifact-riddled city attracts crowds that make it, for lack of a better word, a travel destination. Yet, some of Turkey’s most beautiful landscapes, edifices and history lie outside of its metropolis. Trek off the beaten path and journey to these six small towns in rural Turkey.
Overview of Safranbolu. Ray Swi-hymn. CC BY-SA 2.0.
Once a trading center, this historic town is now home to many artifacts scattered throughout its ~390,000 square miles and among its three historical districts: Cukur, Kirankoy and Baglar. Some of its characteristic antiquities found in the Old Town include tombs, baths, mosques, fountains, and houses. Dive further into exploration with Safronbolu’s Old Mosque, the Old Bath, and the Suleyman Pasha Medrese, an Islamic religious institution, built in the 14th century. This UNESCO World Heritage site is worth discovering.
Rugs on a building in Kas. Julian Mason. CC BY 2.0.
This delightful beach town in Turkey’s Antalya Province doesn’t resemble the tourist-filled streets of the region’s eponymous city. Kas’s pleasant turquoise waters and lively color make the town stand out from Antalya’s busy, fast-paced life. While outdoor activities abound in this town — for example, canyoning is open to all travelers and day-long outdoor attractions like the Xanthos and Patara antique cities — a vibrant nightlife along the beautiful beaches awaits all visitors. Jazz clubs and rock bars alike welcome you to the wondrous city of Kas.
Rock tombs of Iskilip. Aerdemsenturk. CC BY-SA 4.0.
Just a 3-hour drive away from Ankara, Iskilip is another UNESCO heritage site on our list. This castle town’s epicenter is the Iskilip Castle, bordered by the town’s verdant mountains. While the Iskilip Castle is itself a site of historical importance, its base contains many Roman era tombs that are the real draw for many visitors. Iskilip is also a town of craftsmen; copper smiths, basket weavers, blacksmiths, cobblers, wood carvers and more set up shop in between houses, in houses, and everywhere in the town.
Mor Sarbel Church. Senol Demir. CC BY 2.0.
In between the narrow cobblestone streets of Midyat lie ~410,000 square miles of artifacts, a structural chronicle of the past. The town, an hour drive from the Mardin province, houses unique sand-colored buildings. Among them is a series of religious edifices like the Ulu Cami, or mosque, with its characteristic minaret that towers over the surrounding buildings, the Mor Barsarmo Kilise, a church, and the Syrian-Orthodox Mor Sarbel church. Perhaps interesting, however, is Matiate, the official name of Midyat’s underground sites. Matiate is the largest cave system in the world, and is worth exploring along with the other wonders of Midyat.
Houses in Amasya. Cobija. CC BY-SA 4.0.
This small town, much like others in this list, is a site of historical gravity. Three historical structures frame and define Amasya. First, the Amasya Castle, located at the top of Mount Harsena, is the center of this riverside city. While the climb to reach the castle can be steep, the view of Amasya’s green river and quaint houses has no peers. Second, the Amasya Museum is home to 24,000 artifacts from Anatolia including great stoneworks credited to the Hittites, Romans, Byzantines and Ottomans. Lastly, the Pontic Kings’ Rock Tombs, sepulchers carved into limestone rock formations, remind visitors of the once great Hellenistic Kingdom of Pontus, a stalwart enemy of Rome.
A river in Camlihemsin. Serra Kiziltas. CC BY-SA 4.0.
Located near the Black Sea region of Turkey, Camlihemsin is the smallest of the towns listed here, with an area of ~340,000 square miles. Much of the appeal of this town is its flora and fauna: with stately trees and grass-covered mountains, the town is perfect for hiking and mountain climbing. Hilltops embraced by surrounding clouds beautify the landscape. Waterfalls such as the Palovit Selalesi, a frequent reward for long hikes, also grace the town. Of course, one particular large historical artifact — the Zilkale medieval castle located in Fırtına Valley — caters to nature-naysayers.
Su Ertekin-Taner
Su is a first year student at Columbia University majoring in creative writing. Her love for the power of words and her connection to her Turkish roots spills into her satire, flash fiction, and journalistic pieces among other genres. Su hopes to continue writing fearless journalism, untold stories, and prose inspired by her surroundings.
Hatay, Turkey, 9 February 2023. CC BY 2.0
In the early morning of February 6, southeastern Turkey was hit by a magnitude 7.8 earthquake, running all the way through most parts of Syria. About 9 hours later another 7.5 quake rocked the Turkey-Syria border, with over 200 aftershocks recorded. The seismic phenomena have left over 33,000 dead, a number that is expected to rise, buildings turned to rubble, and a region on the brink of developmental disaster. Survivors have been left homeless in the streets in sub-freezing temperatures with no access to food or water, struggling to find their loved ones amid the remains.
Sitting on the Anatolian plate between two major faults - the North Anatolian Fault and the East Anatolian Fault - Turkey is vulnerable to strike-slip seismic activity. The main earthquake that occurred on Tuesday morning had its epicenter in the city of Nurdaği, located in the Gaziantep province, which is home to many Syrian refugees who have escaped that country’s Civil War. A developing nation, Turkey struggles to implement legitimate housing laws that keep buildings up to safety standards. The nation’s president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, has reported that poorly enforced regulations played a role in making earthquakes so damaging, as buildings quickly collapsed due to their already vulnerable state. In Syria 11 years of conflict have made it nearly impossible to enforce building standards, and most cities already host vulnerable living conditions, the war leaving buildings and areas unstable and unprepared for seismic activity.
What are the long-term implications of such natural disasters on this region of the world? Sitting on such an active fault line, with Syria to the south on the Arabia Plate Tectonic, Turkey and its neighbor could experience more quakes. Buildings which have not collapsed from this earthquake are at risk if there is any more seismic activity. At the moment Turkey and Syria both face a deep humanitarian crisis, and will soon have to come up with the money to rebuild. Turkey, already facing a turbulent economic situation, must now spend billions of dollars in a rebuilding project, combined with upcoming elections on May 14. The nation’s economic growth for 2023 could now be up to 2 percentage points less, leaving the nation behind in its development goals.
President Erdoğan has continued to threaten Syria’s Assad regime on political matters, which include his habitual threats to attack Kurdish groups in the northern part of Assad’s domain. However, both nations have agreed to offer each other diplomatic assistance and aid after this disaster, and accept international help for the wellbeing of their citizens. This type of earthquake diplomacy is also paving the way for other states with bilateral tensions, such as the United States and Russia, to collaborate with one another and assist Turkey and Syria for the sake of supporting human life and future development in the region.
UNICEF is accepting donations and financial contributions to help on-the-ground volunteers get aid to children and families affected in both Turkey and Syria. For more information on getting involved, click here.
Save the Children is accepting donations to help surviving children receive food and shelter. To get involved, click here.
CDP has opened a Recovery Fund to help in the reconstruction of buildings in Turkey and Syria, as well as provide aid and resources for survivors. To donate, click here.
Kimberly Hidalgo
Having obtained a MA in International Policy, Kimberly seeks to bridge the gap between global development and government legislation. Growing up between the United States and Spain, she believes that travel is the best way to discover yourself and understand the world. Her goal is to promote a deeper awareness of the effects of climate change in society and politics.
While most people associate National Parks with the US, there are amazing National Parks to visit around the world. Check out glaciers, tropical wetlands, the oldest desert in the world in these parks in Iceland, Namibia, Thailand, India and more.
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A long road to recovery. Chaoyue Pan. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Bashar Assad didn’t survive his country’s civil war alone. Only with the help of Russia was he able to resist rebel forces and reestablish his grip on Syria. Now, his grip on power seems unshakable, and the question has moved from who will win to how Syria will rebuild. This challenge, however, Assad might have to do alone.
It will be a mighty task. Every aspect of Syria’s economy suffered in the almost decade long civil war. Oil, the country’s primary export, is being produced at one-sixth its prewar level, and last year’s wheat crop was half the prewar average. 60% of businesses have closed either permanently or temporarily. What savings citizens had are losing value fast, for the Syrian currency lost 70% of its value against the dollar. The forthcoming peace is preferable to war but far from easy.
COVID-19 only adds to the country’s plight. The Assad regime has attempted to hide the extent of the devastation by blaming COVID-19 deaths on “pneumonia,” but the damage is clearly intense. Desperate for food and cash, many Syrians shirked lockdown measures. Other measures enforced in other countries are impossible to follow in a war zone. What little medical infrastructure existed has been swiftly overwhelmed.
The ruins of Aleppo. Ihh Insani Yardim. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Syria’s allies and neighbors seem content to watch its slow death and profit where they can. Recently, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov visited not to help with reconstruction efforts but to scope out energy and construction contracts. Russia knows it can depend on Syria’s loyalty because the Assad regime has nowhere else to turn. Turkish involvement in Syria, meanwhile, focused on supporting anti-Assad rebels along with limiting the influence of regional Kurds, an ethnic group with aspirations of a nation-state.
What’s left of Azaz. Christiaan Triebert. CC BY-NC 2.0.
The United States and Europe provide only humanitarian aid. The U.S. heaped sanctions on Assad’s government in an effort to force at least a semi-democratic settlement, but Assad drifts still further into authoritarianism. At one point, President Donald Trump entertained assassinating the Syrian leader after his use of chemical weapons in 2018. “I would have rather taken him out. I had him all set. Mattis didn’t want to do it,” Trump said, referring to former Secretary of Defense James Mattis. To switch from a desire for assassination to a respectful negotiation would be a stark, and unlikely, change.
Rather than give aid, Russia seems content to exploit Syria’s weaknesses. As always, the decisions of Syria’s leaders and allies will mainly affect Syrian citizens. The Assad regime’s finances have been bled so dry that it is rumored that customs officers and generals impound trucks and confiscate goods just to charge hefty bribes for their return.
The plight of Syrian mercenaries illustrates just how dire life the situation has become. Years of fighting created a generation of young men whose only marketable skill is waging war. With no fighting left to be done at home and hungry families to feed, these men have enlisted as mercenary soldiers for Turkey and Russia. Once on the fringe of Syrian life, brick and mortar offices now house recruiters who advertise on WhatsApp, often lying about the safety of certain deployments. Families have more or less accepted fighting as a necessary means to make a living. In the current economy, there are no other options.
Nowhere left to run. a.anis. CC BY-ND 2.0.
What these fighters make can hardly be called a living. A soldier earns the equivalent of $1 a day, most of which has to be sent home to their family. Syrian mercenaries were deployed in 2019 to fight the conflict in Libya, and just recently, they were deployed to fight for Azerbaijan against Armenia in the disputed Nagorno-Karabakh territory. Russia and Turkey have made pawns out of Syria’s most desperate citizens to support their foreign policy expansions. As one Syrian businessman loyal to Assad observed, “Our saviors have become vultures.”
Syria’s isolation will only intensify in the near future. The Netherlands recently announced that it is preparing a case for the International Criminal Court at The Hague for “gross human rights violations and torture in particular.” Russia repeatedly blocked efforts from the U.N. Security Council to refer such a case, but the Netherlands has bypassed the U.N. altogether. It is yet another thrust from the international community to move Assad in a more democratic direction., For the time being, however, Assad refuses to budge and the plight of Syrians is likely to continue.
Michael McCarthy
Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.
A view of Mount Ararat. West. CC2.0
Tensions between Azerbaijan and Armenia have been renewed due to the ongoing territorial dispute over Nagorno-Karabakh. Fighting started up again on Sept. 27 and has caused massive upheaval and casualties on both sides. Backed by Turkey, the Azerbaijani military bombed Nagorno-Karabakh’s regional capital of Stepanakert with intense artillery fire, while Armenia launched missiles at Ganja (Azerbaijan’s second-largest city), putting citizens in grave danger. Officials speculate that the last two weeks of fighting have proven to be the worst since a cease-fire was brokered by Russia in 1994. Although another cease-fire is a possibility, there is no prediction of what will come next. “Don’t discount the possibility of this turning into something much larger,” said Kevork Oskanian from the University of Birmingham in England. “Once a conflict like this kicks off, it has a dynamic of its own and you don’t know where it will go.”
A map of the Nagorno-Karabakh region. Achemish. Wikimedia Commons. CC4.0
The recent fighting is a result of a renewed 32-year-long military conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia. The territory of Nagorno-Karabakh, also known as Artsakh to Armenians, contains a population of about 150,000. Although completely surrounded by Muslim-majority Azerbaijan, it is governed and claimed by Christian Armenians. Josef Stalin gave the territory to Azerbaijan in 1921 and made it an autonomous region two years later. Initially, the territorial dispute was not violent, as both Armenia and Azerbaijan were under the stronghold of the Soviet Union. However, nationalistic and militaristic tensions increased between the two nations when the USSR began to dissolve. The fighting began in 1991, which resulted in 30,000 casualties and over one million displaced. Although a cease-fire was agreed to in 1994, no official peace deal has been reached. Armenia is happier with the status quo than Azerbaijan, as it was able to reclaim 20% of surrounding land during the fighting in the ‘90s (shown in yellow on the map above). However, Azerbaijan still has a large population of people displaced by the fighting who want to return to their homes.
Azerbaijani and Turkish flags in Izmir, Turkey. Anzola. CC 2.0
Azerbaijan is often referred to as a little brother to Turkey, due to the two nations’ connections through cultural, linguistic and religious ties.The two have a relationship built on trade and mutual exchange. Azerbaijan provides a large portion of Turkey’s gas and oil, where the money in return is used to buy weapons from Turkey. Azerbaijan is currently using military weapons provided by Turkey to strike Nagorno-Karabakh, allowing Turkey to increase its political presence in the region. Underpinning Turkey’s involvement in the conflict are the events of 1915, where 1.5 million Armenians were killed under the direction of the Ottoman Empire (present-day Turkey), which many consider a genocide but Turkey denies. Many Armenians see Azerbaijan’s alliance with Turkey as a resurfacing of these events, providing an ultimate threat to their existence and statehood.
An Armenian church in Los Angeles. Steeds. CC2.0
Although Armenia has a population of 3 million, the diaspora population is estimated to be much larger, with notable communities in Australia, Russia, Lebanon, France and Southern California. Although the events of 1915 resulted in mass migrations of Armenians around the world, the diaspora goes as far back as the Middle Ages. Throughout history, many Armenians migrated to new corners of the world due to political upheaval. Armenian merchants often traveled to trade and sell wares, playing a key role in the economies of China, India and Persia. Armenia’s long history of migration and displacement has resulted in a strengthened cultural identity in diaspora communities. Many notable Armenian celebrities, including Kim Kardashian and Serj Tankian, are strong proponents of the Armenian cause, posting on social media to raise awareness of the Nagorno-Karabakh dispute. Armenian lobby groups have held protests in Southern California, as well as asking Armenian-Americans to bring awareness of the conflict to representatives and congresspeople. Some Armenians even contemplate returning to their country to fight Azerbaijan. According to Alex Galitsky, part of the Armenian National Committee of America’s western region, “I think a lot of people see themselves as bearing some responsibility for the defense of our nation.”
The conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh continues to escalate as nationalistic and militaristic tendencies fuel both sides. True peace will only be reached if Turkey, Armenia and Azerbaijan are willing to begin the difficult work of listening and embracing each other’s conflicting histories and narratives.
Megan Gürer
Megan is a Turkish-American student at Wellesley College in Massachusetts studying Biological Sciences. Passionate about environmental issues and learning about other cultures, she dreams of exploring the globe. In her free time, she enjoys cooking, singing, and composing music.
When Germany’s capital is mentioned, people often think of Berlin’s turbulent history, thriving arts scene and hipster culture. However, multiculturalism ought to also come to mind. With 21% of its population hailing from non-German backgrounds representing 190 countries, Berlin is becoming a true melting pot. Often nicknamed “Multikulti,” Berlin portrays itself as a tolerant city aiming to attract talent from abroad while celebrating its diversity within.
Guest-workers from Hungary in East Germany. Lehmann. 30 Sept. 1988. CC3.0
After World War II, the Allied Powers divided Berlin into four regions. The American, British and French regions made up West Berlin and the region occupied by the Soviet Union made up East Berlin. Immigration to Berlin was largely influenced by the dynamics of the divided city’s various zones. After the war, there was a strong need for labor to help rebuild Germany. West Germany recruited “guest-workers” to fill this need from nearby areas such as Turkey and southeastern Europe. The East German government recruited guest-workers from other socialist countries, such as North Vietnam and North Korea. More recently, many immigrants escaping conflicts in the Middle East and North Africa have sought refuge in Berlin.
An Arabic market in Neukolln Gürer CC2.0
Although Berlin has a sizable international population, being an immigrant in the city is not without its problems. Areas of Berlin with high immigrant populations tend to be weaker economically and are known for social problems including high unemployment, increased crime rates, drug trafficking and gentrification. Ethnic minorities are usually present only in certain neighborhoods and are underrepresented in German popular culture and politics. Immigrants are also subjected to acts of hatred and violence due to strongholds of White nationalism in areas of East Berlin. Additionally, previous immigration policies in Berlin have focused on tolerating, rather than accepting, immigrants in the city. The term “Auslander” or foreigner negatively refers to immigrants in Germany, speaking to the difficulties they face with integrating into German society.
However, things are slowly changing. Immigrant communities in Berlin are proudly showcasing their cultures for others to see. Travelers who visit Berlin’s multicultural hubs can help change the narrative of immigration in Germany.
Sehitlik Mosque in Berlin’s Neukolln district. Zairon CC International 4.0
Today, the majority of Berlin’s immigrant population resides in the center of the city in the districts of Neukolln and Kreuzberg. Although previously known for its unemployment and drug problems, Neukolln is reinventing itself as a hip and multicultural center. One of Neukolln’s iconic areas is Sonnenallee, often nicknamed “Arab Street,” which is home to many Middle Eastern restaurants, grocery stores and baklava shops. Walking through Sonnenallee, one is nearly as likely to hear various Arabic dialects and Turkish as German. Neukolln is also home to the Sehitlik Mosque, which is the most visited mosque in Berlin. The mosque participates in the Long Night of Religions, an annual event where houses of worship all over the city open their doors to the public to promote tolerance and interreligious dialogue.
Turkish market in Kreuzberg. Gürer. CC2.0
Berlin’s Kreuzberg district is often nicknamed “Little Istanbul” for good reason; the neighborhood is home to the largest Turkish population outside of Turkey. On Tuesdays and Fridays, Kreuzberg hosts an expansive Turkish Market, selling everything from fresh produce and spices to fabrics and street food. Kreuzberg is an excellent place to try Turkish staples such as doner kebab and gozleme. Markthalle Neun is another acclaimed international market in Berlin. On Thursday evenings, it hosts “Street Food Thursday” with seemingly endless vendors serving diverse culinary options. Berlin’s Jewish Museum, also located in Kreuzberg, is the largest museum in Europe focusing on Jewish history and culture. Known for its nightlife and hip culture, Kreuzburg is rising in popularity. At the same time, this has given rise to gentrification which makes it difficult for migrant families to afford life there.
One of the many warehouses in the Dong Xuan Center in East Berlin. Gürer. CC2.0
Vietnamese make up the largest Southeast Asian population in Berlin, most of whom reside in the eastern part of the city. The Dong Xuan Center in Lichtenberg is home to Berlin’s hub of Vietnamese culture: a warehouse-like market that contains vegetable shops, clothing stores, beauty salons and authentic restaurants.
The House of World Cultures in Berlin. Mennerich. CC 2.0
Founded in 1989, the House of World Cultures is an arts and cultural center that hosts exhibitions, conferences and themes focused predominantly on non-Western cultures and societies. Located in the Tiergarten area near the Spree River, the center’s primary focus is to provide Berliners with an authentic view of contemporary art and culture from around the world. Past events include a Korean film festival and various world music events.
Performer at the annual Carnival of Cultures. Reichert. CC 2.0
The Carnival of Cultures is a four-day celebration of Berlin’s cultural diversity that occurs every spring. Festivities include music, dance, street performances, street food and crafts. On Pentecost Sunday, the last day of the celebration, a procession of floats travels through Kreuzberg.
Immigration has shaped Berlin’s culture and history for decades, providing a fascinating framework for travelers to explore. Despite the contested status of refugees in Germany today, migration into Berlin is nothing new. Visiting these multicultural spaces is a step toward tolerance and appreciation of the beauty and diversity so often brought about by means of immigration.
Megan Gürer
is a Turkish-American student at Wellesley College in Massachusetts studying Biological Sciences. Passionate about environmental issues and learning about other cultures, she dreams of exploring the globe. In her free time, she enjoys cooking, singing, and composing music.
One of the rituals of hajj includes walking around the Kaaba seven times. Adli Wahid. Unsplash.
Every year, more than 2 million Muslims from all over the world perform the special pilgrimage called hajj in Saudi Arabia. Performing hajj is an extremely important ritual for Muslims as it is one of the five pillars of Islam, which make up the core practices and beliefs. It is obligatory for Muslims to make the annual pilgrimage at least once in their lifetime as long as they are able-bodied and financially able to afford the trip.
In a rare move, Saudi Arabia announced on July 6 that hajj would be canceled for the majority of the world’s Muslims—the first time in recent years that it has been disrupted by an epidemic. This is also the first time that Saudi Arabia has significantly curtailed the pilgrimage since the country was founded in 1932—only people living in Saudi Arabia may perform the pilgrimage this year. “Hajj Minister Mohammad Benten said the government is still in the process of reviewing the number of overall pilgrims allowed, saying they could be ‘around 1,000, maybe less, maybe a little more,’” according to Al-Jazeera. Furthermore, no one over the age of 65 will be allowed to make the pilgrimage this year. Authorities released strict guidelines including a ban on touching the Kaaba, one of the holiest sites in Islam.
In March, the Saudi government made the decision to enforce travel restrictions into the Muslim holy sites of Mecca and Medina for umrah, a pilgrimage that can be performed at any time of the year that is not obligatory for Muslims as hajj is. While that decision caused frustration for some, hajj is sacred and typically a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Muslims. As such, the decision to cancel hajj is devastating to many who were planning to go.
For the rest of the world’s Muslims, fears of spreading the coronavirus during the upcoming Eid al-Adha holiday has prompted leaders to urge Muslims to continue following coronavirus guidelines.
Eid al-Adha marks the completion of the annual five to six day pilgrimage, and takes place on the tenth day of Dhul-Hijja, the last month of the Islamic lunar calendar. Eid al-Adha serves as a remembrance of the willingness of the prophet Ibrahim (Abraham to Christians and Jews) to sacrifice his son to God. The holiday does not celebrate bloodshed in order to please God—a sheep was provided at the last moment—but instead honors giving up something beloved and promotes charity and equality. To commemorate God’s intervention, an animal is sacrificed (typically a sheep, but goats, camels and cows are also acceptable) and the meat divided into three portions—one-third goes to the poor and needy, one-third to friends and family, and the final portion is reserved for one’s own household.
Muslim countries’ leaders worry that Eid al-Adha celebrations will cause a spike in COVID-19 cases as people travel to animal markets and slaughterhouses to perform the sacrifice. The head of Istanbul’s Chamber of Veterinary Surgeons, Murat Arslan, has warned that 1 million people could be at risk of contracting the virus in Turkey. As such, he said face masks should be made mandatory and disposable plastic shoe covers should be worn upon entering the marketplace, and buyers and sellers should avoid shaking hands upon completing a sale. Pakistan’s National Institute of Health is urging the public to stick to the coronavirus guidelines, especially on Eid al-Adha. The Pakistani government issued new rules for the holiday, including instructing people to avoid greeting friends and relatives on Eid al-Adha and urging sellers to arrange online purchases when possible, according to The Washington Post. Oman announced a complete lockdown beginning on July 25 and ending on Aug. 8, a drastic effort to prevent a spike in positive COVID-19 cases.
Hajj begins on July 29 with Eid al-Adha being celebrated on July 31 by the majority of Muslims.
Asiya Haouchine
is an Algerian-American writer who graduated from the University of Connecticut in May 2016, earning a BA in journalism and English. She was an editorial intern and contributing writer for Warscapes magazine and the online/blog editor for Long River Review. She is currently studying for her Master’s in Library and Information Science. @AsiyaHaou
Greek police clash with migrants at the border with Turkey in Kastanies. Dimitris Tosidis/EPA
The ongoing refugee and migrant crisis in the Aegean has taken a dramatic turn in recent days with an escalating humanitarian situation on the land and sea borders between Greece and Turkey.
After Turkey removed its border restrictions with Greece on February 29, thousands of people began to make their way across the country to the Greek border. They have been met with tear gas, and warning shots fired by the Greek coastguard at boats trying to cross the Aegean sea.
The latest “crisis” started suddenly – yet migration in the region has been going on for many years, if not millennia. As an ancient route of cultural and trade interchange, the Aegean has always been a sea of overlapping waves of migrations – and the rich history of this criss-crossing is ever-present in the region today.
My ongoing research in the Greek islands and mainland suggests the living memory of previous experiences of displacement forms a vivid background to the current arrival of refugees, who have been coming since the Syrian civil war intensified in around 2015.
On February 29, Turkey woke up to the news that at least 30 of its soldiers had been killed in an air attack at an army base in Idlib in northern Syria. Turkish political leaders responded by promising to retaliate in what is another escalation of the military conflict in the region.
But the Turkish president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, also made good on a previous threat and declared that no migrant attempting to leave the country via the border with Greece would be stopped. This was a major shift in policy since the signing of a 2016 deal between Turkey and the EU, under which Erdoğan agreed to regulate and reduce the migrant flows to Europe in exchange for financial support.
In a matter of two days, tens of thousands gathered at the main checkpoints at the land and sea borders, only to find that the Greek side was closed. In response, the government announced that Greece would not accept any more irregular migrants, nor would it process any asylum applications for a month.
Despite criticism from humanitarian agencies and European parliamentarians over the legality and legitimacy of such measures, the Greek government stood firm. On March 3, the EU Commission’s president, Ursula von der Leyen, travelled to the border city of Evros and thanked Greece “for being our European aspida.” By using the Greek word for shield, and reiterating that the Greek borders were European borders, she gave the Greek prime minister a strong message of unity and support.
Shocking footage released by Turkey today showing Greek coastguard terrorising a boat full of refugees. Europe in 2020. pic.twitter.com/yFz7wvxadO
— Loveday Morris (@LovedayM) March 2, 2020
Those who wish to believe that a half-closed border is still half open continue to wait for their ever-slimmer chances to enter Greece. Thousands of people are spending days and nights in near freezing temperatures in the buffer zone between the two borders with only limited humanitarian assistance provided by locals and NGOs.
In the Aegean islands, the situation is even thornier. As of January 31, 2020, there were 115,600 refugees and migrants in Greece, according to the UNHCR. So far, there have been 8,432 arrivals in 2020. While the numbers are not at the levels they were in 2015, when Greece was caught off guard in the initial phases of refugee flows, it’s not the quantity of the migrants but the changes in the quality of their reception that matters.
In the past five years, the irregular flow of refugees arriving in Greek shores with dinghies has continued with some fluctuations. Greece established five migrant hotspots in its Aegean islands, yet these have not addressed the needs of those arriving. With multiple accounts documenting the appalling conditions in various refugee camps, especially at the Moria camp on the island of Lesvos, this has led to criticism of Greece’s ability or willingness to deal with the migration issue.
The new government of Kyriakos Mitsotakis, the Greek prime minister, vowed to take drastic measures and passed a new migration law in November 2019 which came into effect in January. This was followed by a plan to build closed reception centers in the islands of Chios, Samos and Lesvos which would replace the current open camp structures of the hotspots.
New asylum seekers, arriving on the island of Lesvos, waiting to be transferred to mainland Greece on March 3. Orestis Panagiotou/EPA
These measures have been presented as effective solutions to accelerate the asylum procedures and to “decongest the islands”. But they have been met with anger by locals, who protested extensively against the central government’s decisions, leading to a general strike on February 25.
The rising tension has heightened the ideological polarisation among the locals on the Aegean islands. Anti-migrant protesters, alongside far-right extremists, have demonstrated that they are prepared to use violent means to protect their borders. In early March, some angry protesters tried to block refugee boats from arriving into harbours and block roads. Cars and buildings have been burnt and journalists attacked.
The opposing camp condemns the use of refugees as bargaining chips for political ends. They are appealing to concepts such as hospitality, civilisation and humanity to underline their stance in solidarity with the migrants, using slogans such as “open the borders” and “no human is illegal”.
Both anti-migrant groups and those in solidarity with migrants are using the region’s history to promote their own ideological positions.
Those in solidarity claim that migration is not a crime, but rather an element of the human condition that has occurred repeatedly throughout the region’s history. They recall how during the second world war, thousands of Greeks crossed the Turkish border to escape the German occupation and seek refuge in the Middle East.
The Aegean islands were also where boats filled with Greek Orthodox residents of Asia Minor came in the wake of the Convention of the Forced Exchange of Populations of 1923 between Greece and Turkey, signed after the first world war. Following the arrival of more than 1.5 million people in Greece, the population of the islands almost doubled to the extent that many locals still have family members from among the group originally and still known as the “Asia Minor refugees”.
The ongoing tensions in the region have once again made it into a place where complex negotiations take place over ideology and identity. The shifting way the past is being imagined stands as a testimony to how the history of overlapping migrations is currently being kept alive in the Aegean.
Ilay Romain Ors is a Research Affiliate, Centre of Migration, Policy, and Society, University of Oxford.
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION
Hidden in plain sight: the Kurdish question in Turkey. Sedat Suna/EPA
The ramifications of Donald Trump’s decision to withdraw US troopsfrom the Turkish-Syrian border continues to have a seismic effect on the situation in northern Syria.
Faced with the Turkish invasion of northern Syria, the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) who controlled the area were forced to make compromises. On October 13, they announced a deal with the Syrian army, which began moving troops towards the Turkish border. A five-day ceasefire was brokered by the US on October 18, during which Turkey agreed to pause its offensive to allow Kurdish forces to withdraw.
For many, the SDF proved itself to be the most effective force in the fight against Islamic State (IS). Turkey, however, considers the SDF as an extension of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), which it, the US and EU label as a terrorist organisation.
But behind this lies a long history of Turkey denying the very existence of the Kurdish conflict, and the political and cultural rights of its Kurdish population. Understanding this history helps explain why the conflict is so intractable, and the impact it continues to have on Turkey’s foreign policy choices.
The Kurdish conflict cannot be understood without considering the question of power and exclusion. Its origins go back to the mid-19th century when the Ottomans attempted to end the 300-year-old autonomy of the Kurdish principalities in Kurdistan. This struggle for autonomy wasn’t resolved during the rule of the Ottoman era, and when it collapsed, all of the new nation states that eventually emerged – Turkey, Syria, Iraq and Iran – inherited their own Kurdish conflict.
The Turks and the Kurds fought a successful war of independencetogether in 1919 against the Allied forces. Nevertheless, when the new Republic of Turkey was established in 1923, Turkish identity was presented as its unifying force, at the expense of the society’s political, social and cultural differences.
Not only was political power further centralised in Ankara, but the domination of the ethnic, Turkish and Sunni majority became the norm. The decision to create a centralised and homogeneous nation state was implemented in a top-down and violent fashion. The seeds of the long-term problems that Turkish and Kurdish communities confront today were created by this decision.
Various Kurdish groups challenged this new social and political order with different revolts, uprisings, and resistance, but these were violently suppressed. Repressive policies of assimilation were later implemented to transform the Kurds into civilised and secular Turks.
The Kurdish conflict laid buried for many years. Then, the most serious challenge to Turkey’s nation state project was initiated by the PKK in 1984, which embraced a political agenda called democratic autonomy. The violent struggle between Ankara and the PKK has resulted in a huge economic and human cost.
Peace talks which began in 2013 with the PKK’s jailed leader Abdullah Öcalan were widely considered to be the best chance for ending the conflict, but these collapsed in 2015. This led to increasing violence in the form of a destructive armed conflict in southeastern Turkey and a wave of bombings, including in Ankara and Istanbul.
The resolution of intractable conflicts is only possible when conflicted parties can confront their past and learn from it. In 2015, amid attempts by Turkish opposition parties to reopen peace negotiations with the Kurds, Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan insisted: “There is no Kurdish conflict”. Such positioning, which continues today, keeps the political dimension of the conflict in the background.
Aftermath of a bomb attacking a military convoy in Diyarbakir, Turkey. EPA
The state carefully controls what can and cannot be said about the conflict. Typically, words such as “terror” and “traitor” are used to criminalise those who criticise government policy towards the Kurds. A group of academics who signed a petition in 2016 calling for the resumption of peace talks were charged with making “terrorism propaganda”. The non-violent wing of the Kurdish movement – activists, politicians, political parties – has also been criminalised.
Instead of confronting their failure to bring about peace, Turkish political elites have tried to apportion blame elsewhere. Erdoğan, for example, repeatedly refers to an invisible “mastermind” who orchestrates the PKK. Such rhetoric is deployed to play on the collective fear and anxiety about national security felt by parts of Turkish society.
Some have called this the “Sèvres syndrome” – referring to the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres that marked the end of the Ottoman empire and proposed to divide it into small states and occupation zones. The treaty was never implemented, and superseded by the 1923 Lausanne Treatywhich recognised the Republic of Turkey.
This syndrome – also referred to as “Sèvres Paranoia” – in essence reflects the collective fear that the Treaty of Sèvres will be revived and that the Turkish state is encircled by enemies who want to divide and weaken the country.
Today, this line of thinking is an integral part of Turkish political life and continues to influence public perception towards the external world. In a 2006 public opinion survey, for example, 78% of participants agreed that “the West wants to divide and break up Turkey like they broke up the Ottoman Empire”.
Driving Turkey’s choices. By kmlmtz66/Shutterstock
In this way, the Kurdish conflict has been used to mobilise Turkish society to act against its own collective interest: a peaceful and just society. Policies aimed at managing the conflict have been implemented mostly within a state of emergency, in ways that continue to undermine Turkish democracy. Not only has the tremendous economic and human cost of the conflict become a “normal” part of Turkish life, but the state has also been successful in actively keeping the political dimension of the conflict at bay.
For a long time, Turkey refrained from talking about the Kurdish issue by assuming that it would eventually fade away. But it didn’t and instead, the conflict has become more deeply entrenched. Time will tell whether the Turkish state will ultimately gain or lose by its latest military intervention in Syria. However, what’s clear is that the Kurdish conflict will get more complicated with this latest move, and both the Turkish state and Turkish society will no longer be able to ignore it.
Recep Onursal is a PhD candidate in International Conflict Analysis, University of Kent
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION
Life on the border: Kurdish men in Kobani, Syria. Ahmed Mardnli/EPA
After years of rising tensions between Turkey and the US over the situation in northern Syria, an unexpected rapprochement has pulled the two countries back from possible conflict.
Relations between the two countries had deteriorated over Turkish opposition to the US alliance with Kurdish fighters in northern Syria, and Turkey’s recent purchase of a Russian air defence missile system. In response, the US kicked Turkey out of its F-35 fighter programme in July.
But in August, Turkey and US announced they would collaborate to establish safe zones along the Syrian-Turkish border, managed by a joint operations centre in Turkey.
Turkey has long demanded these buffer zones across its northern border with Syria to protect against possible assaults from the Kurdish People’s Protection Units, or YPG, which leads the Syrian Democratic Forces. The safe zone will effectively serve as a buffer between the YPG-controlled area and the Turkish border, and also combat the ongoing threat of Islamic State (IS) in the region.
The Turks and Americans are yet to agree on the size of the buffer zone – with Turkey pushing for it to be larger than the US wants – and it remains unclear who will police it. But in late August, YPG leaders agreed to withdraw their troops from towns near the Turkish border in what the Pentagon said was a sign of “good faith”.
But why has the US begun to condone Turkish action in northern Syria, and why now?
Although Turkey and the US both sought to displace the regime of Bashar al-Assad in Syria, their priorities in the region changed over time. When the US launched its coalition against IS in 2014, Turkey joined reluctantly amid fears that the fight would harm the Syrian rebels fighting against the Assad regime.
But while Turkey remained suspicious over the presence of the YPG in northern Syria, the US allied with these very forces to defeat IS and to balance Iranian influence in the region.
When US President Donald Trump declared IS had been defeated in December 2018 and that American troops would withdraw from Syria, Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan hurried to announce Turkish troops could replace the Americans in the region. Erdoğan has repeatedly stressed that Turkey will not harm Syrian Kurdish civilians, but rather target militant groups in the region, including the YPG which it sees as linked to the Kurdish separatist Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or PKK.
Similar styles. Ahmed Mardnli/EPA
After the reaction in Washington to the decision to withdraw from Syria – which caused resignations and criticism from senior politicians – Trump reversed his decision. In early January the US government said it would not withdraw until the Turkish government guaranteed it would not to attack Syrian Kurds who had been part of the alliance fighting against IS. Turkey has not given this guarantee.
Mistrust has festered over alleged links with each of the allies’ foes, namely Turkey with IS fighters and the US with the YPG. Amid the tensions, the US embassy in Ankara remained vacant.
There are three reasons for the current rapprochement. The first is a growing desire from both sides to avoid conflict between their military personnel in the region. In 2018, Erdoğan threatened that any US soldiers who stood in the way of the Turkish invasion of Afrin, a Syrian enclave in northern Syria, with an “Ottoman slap”.
Ankara now seems more willing to collaborate with Washington. The welcome extended to the new American ambassador to Turkey, David Satterfield, at the presidential palace on August 28, signalled the allies are looking to build bridges.
The second is that Assad’s forces are encroaching into the last remaining opposition stronghold in Idlib with their Russian allies. Turkey is likely to face another stream of Syrian refugees across to its borders. The search for an agreement over safe zones in northern Syria comes to the fore as Erdoğan feels the brunt of his pro-refugee politics at home.
Since its invasion of Afrin, Turkey has sought to settle Syrian refugees in safe zones in the province. The newly proposed safe zones are likely to see a push for further refugee returns. Similar goals of returning refugees are also pushing other peace efforts in the region – notably between the US and Taliban in Afghanistan.
The third reason is more personal. Erdoğan says Trump has a feel for him. Both leaders are celebrity politicians, with their families at the foreground of their politics. They share anti-establishment mentalities, and use religious references and nationalist discourses to appeal to their supporters.
Hanging over this rapprochement, however, is the issue of the Russian missiles. So far the Trump administration has not imposed economic sanctions on Turkey over the issue, despite criticisms from Congress over the risks it poses to NATO security. Turkey said it would not activate the missiles until April 2020, allowing negotiation channels with the US over northern Syria to remain open.
Turkey has been a proactive voice against military assaults by the Assad regime in northern Syria, yet it has remained quiet on the Russian-Syrian alliance in the region. Since the failed coup attempt in 2016, the Erdoğan regime has been increasingly pro-Putin, signalling it is turning its back on its traditional Western allies.
That’s why it’s so significant that Turkey and the US are searching for collaboration in the region despite their policy differences. In the Turkish case, this could be a way to enhance its buffer as Assad forces regain the northern provinces from the rebels. In the American case, it could be to expand its alliances to offset Russian and Iranian influence in the future Assad-ruled Syria.
TARIK BASBUGOGLU is a PhD Candidate at Glasgow Caledonian University.
UMUT KORKUT is a Chair professor at Glasgow Caledonian University.
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION
Following a post-coup crackdown by President Erdoğan, the Turkish intelligentsia is under continuous siege.
Faculty of Political Sciences, Ankara University. Fæ via Wikimedia Commons; originally by SALT Research via Flickr.
For some professors, the change occurred overnight, and with no warning: One day, they reported to work as usual, taught their classes, and returned home safe and secure. The next, they were met outside the gates of their university by swathes of security guards threatening them with tear gas, who informed them that their careers had been terminated, effective immediately. Such sudden and shocking occurrences reflected the overall timbre of 2017 for Turkish academics—hundreds of whom found themselves purged from their jobs in what they described as an officially sanctioned “intellectual massacre.”
The purge was precipitated by the failed coup of July 2016, which resulted in more than 260 fatalities and spurred President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to declare a three-month state of emergency. During that state of emergency and in the ensuing months, hundreds of academics from more than 20 universities lost their jobs without notice—the result of drastic action by the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP), which chose to detain, arrest, and fire thousands of public-sector workers in various different fields rather than pressing charges on those responsible for the coup attempt.
According to Erdoğan, the responsible party was Fethullah Gulen, an exiled cleric and former ally who the authorities claim infiltrated supporters into professions all over Turkey as part of a large-scale takeover scheme. Gulen denies having any part in the plan, and many purged academics said they had nothing to do with Gulen’s movement and were unsure how they ended up on the official hit list. Turkey’s Official Gazette describes the banned academics as having “suspected links to terrorist organizations and structures presenting a threat to national security,” but those accused hold a contrasting view: “It is a project to silence all dissident voices within the academy,” Murat Sevinc, who was fired from Ankara University’s Political Science faculty, told Reuters. “The government has seen you can silence 100 academics by firing only one.”
One commonality among many of the academics was their membership in a movement called Academics for Peace, or “Barış için Akademi syenler.” Of the 330 fired in October 2017, 115 had signed an Academics for Peace petition titled “We shall not be a party of crime,” which took a stand against violence in the mainly Kurdish provinces of Turkey. The signatories immediately faced demonization in the pro-government media and condemnation by Erdoğan.
President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. U.S. Department of State.
As of March 2017, the total count of purged academics was above 7,300. Those affected were not only deprived of their jobs but also banned from taking other jobs in any public or private institutions, robbed of retirement rights, and even suspended from traveling. Certain universities and departments were particularly hard-hit—for example, the Faculty of Political Sciences at Ankara University, Turkey’s oldest collegiate institution and one comparable in prestige and rigor to France’s Sciences Po. The departments of journalism at Ankara and at Istanbul’s University of Marmara were also decimated. Emre Tansu Keten, a casualty of the purge at Marmara, told Vocal Europe, “I am simply proud to be in the same list along with my senior colleagues who are thrown out because of the opinion they expressed.” Students, though not the primary victims of the situation, were nevertheless left reeling with the realization that their universities were mere shadows of the places at which they had enrolled.
The purges of 2017 were hardly the first shockwave to ripple through Turkey’s academic sector in recent years. In the past few decades, Turkish academic life has frequently been tumultuous, with intellectuals embroiled in military takeovers, secular/religious tensions, and leftist/nationalist battles. Following the start of European Union accession talks in 2004, however, fresh influxes of funding allowed Turkish institutions to construct modern research labs, encouraging students to study in Turkey rather than in the United States or elsewhere in Europe.
That progress, some academics suggest, is now in jeopardy. Following the coup attempt and subsequent crackdown, the trend of intellectuals returning in Turkey took a sharp U-turn, with liberals, secularists, and the intelligentsia fleeing the encroachment of religious nationalism. Between the signing of the Academics for Peace petition in 2016 and the end of 2017, nearly 700 Turkish academics applied to the New York–based organization Scholars at Risk to be relocated to a safer position. Historically, many such applications have been successful: In the five years preceding 2017, approximately 17,000 Turkish nationals came to Britain, 7,000 to Germany, and 5,000 to France.
For academics remaining in Turkey, opportunities for rebuilding their careers are slim, and rewards for their work few and far between. In 2018, the more than 2,000 individuals who make up Academics for Peace finally received recognition in the form of the Courage to Think Defender Award from Scholars at Risk, which applauded the group for their “extraordinary efforts in building academic solidarity and in promoting the principles of academic freedom, freedom of inquiry, and the peaceful exchange of ideas.” Scholars at Risk went on to acknowledge the tenuous state of academic affairs in Turkey, writing, “The nomination is a specific recognition of Academics for Peace’s solidarity work, and at the same time a general recognition of the current pressures on all scholars, students and higher education institutions in and from Turkey.”
Haydarpaşa campus of Marmara University. Fikricoban. CC BY-SA 3.0
On the ground, academics across the country continue to participate in protests, boycotts, and sit-ins at various universities, while a donation fund supports victims of the purge. As of early 2017, Ankara’s “Street Academy” hosted public lectures on Sundays, extending a special invitation to workers and oppressed communities. Funda Şenol Cantek, one of the throngs of fired academics, expressed her defiance to The Advocate: “the government should worry more now that they expand academia to the streets.” Similarly, Sevilay Celenk said of the occasional lectures she holds in public parks, “We took these dismissals as an opportunity to push the limits and bring university together with the streets.”
In June 2019, the body politic of Turkey elected an opposition candidate as mayor of Istanbul, interrupting two decades of control by the AKP. Nevertheless, reported the New York Times, “something about this era under Erdogan has still felt different, more lasting, as if the continuing existence of the A.K.P.’s repressive policies will permanently impair otherwise resilient, historic institutions.” That feeling doubtless stems in part from the uncertain futures facing vast swathes of Turkey’s once-resilient academic sector: As of spring 2019, the legal proceedings concerning 501 members of Academics for Peace remain ongoing. And at the universities, absence is keenly felt. Inside Ankara’s Faculty of Political Science—known as the Mulkiye—walls once plastered with leftist posters are now smattered with a sparse assortment of Turkish flags, the Times described. Certain subjects, such as Foucault and queer theory, have been wiped from the schedule. Master’s and doctoral courses have been canceled, and at the once-lively film society, the showing of films has been banned altogether. Thus, the effects of the purge linger on: in the hallowed halls of universities, in the leafy parks and city streets, and in the hearts and minds of Turkish learners and teachers around the world.
TALYA PHELPS hails from the wilds of upstate New York, but dreams of exploring the globe. As former editor-in-chief at the student newspaper of her alma mater, Vassar College, and the daughter of a journalist, she hopes to follow her passion for writing and editing for many years to come. Contact her if you're looking for a spirited debate on the merits of the em dash vs. the hyphen.
In travel or in our daily lives we pass by others, forgetting that all the people we interact with are just like us... human: full of happiness and pain and hope. In Turkey, The Perennial Plate tried to take an extra moment to "see" some of the food producers that make up this wonderful country.
