I've been working on
a sort of 'side project' recently which involves learning more about
the Middle East. I'm particularly interested in the historical
connections between what we see happening now in places such as Syria
and Iraq, and the dissolution and carving up of the Ottoman Empire
after WW1. I'm also interested in Turkey, one of the most powerful
and relatively stable states to form out of the ruins of the Ottoman
Empire. As I wrote a couple of years ago, it was the experience of
travelling in Turkey and seeing all of the massive monuments
dedicated to Kemal Ataturk which got me thinking about the strange
and disturbing reality of the New Zealand Anzac tradition.
[In no other theater of World War I are the results of that epochal
conflict still as current as they are in the Middle East. Nowhere
else does the early 20th century orgy of violence still determine
political conditions to the same degree. The so-called European Civil
War, a term used to describe the period of bloody violence that
racked Europe from 1914 onwards, came to an end in 1945. The Cold War
ceased in 1990. But the tensions unleashed on the Arab world by World
War I remain as acute as ever. Essentially, the Middle East finds
itself in the same situation now as Europe did following the 1919
Treaty of Versailles: standing before a map that disregards the
region's ethnic and confessional realities. see more here
So far I haven't
really done too much justice to this project. I do my best to keep up
with current events in the Middle East, but frequently struggle to
make sense of the stories I read in the press. When it comes to
Turkey I feel I have some sort of insight into the situation there,
and a sense of its history. Having said that, I would like to know a
lot more about how the Anzac centenary is seen by the Turkish
people(s), and how the Anzac centenary is seen by the Turkish state.
Rather than the mournful and somber tone of 21st century
New Zealand nationalism, the Turkish state is (from what I could see
when travelling there) still keen to tap into a very militaristic,
proud and triumphant sort of nationalism which derives directly from
Ataturk.
Interestingly, as this recent Herald article states, Turkey did not always pay too much
attention to Gallipoli as a part of its own remembrance tradition.
Ataturk did not take up the reins of power immediately after
defeating the Allies in 1915 at Gallipoli. He had to wait several
more years, until 1923, before the modern state of Turkey was born.
The period between 1919 and 1923 is called the Turkish War of Independence. According to the Herald article:
"Although
popular Turkish remembrance and commemoration of the Gallipoli
campaign started with the war-period propaganda and myth-making, the
Independence War proved to be more important with its peculiar myths
and legends," said Mr Uyar, whose new book, The Ottoman Defence
Against the Anzac Landing is the first detailed account of the
landing from the Turkish perspective to be published in English.
The construction
of the Dardanelles Martyrs' Memorial in the early 1950s and an
official 1980s campaign to create a more articulated Gallipoli
history supported with sites of remembrance were instrumental in
establishing an "omnipresence of Gallipoli in Turkish history",
Mr Uyar says.
My guess is that the
Turkish state finds the Gallipoli centenary very useful for various
political purposes. It has been angling for membership of the EU for
quite some time, and appearing as a friendly Western partner to
countries like New Zealand and Australia is probably a good marketing
strategy. There's another possibility here too: the date of the
beginning of the Armenian Genocide is April 24th 1915. This is the day
before the Allied landings at Gallipoli. So we have a centenary of
three different kinds of death approaching us:
- Allied deaths total 44,150, including 2779 Nzers
- Turkish/Arab deaths total 86,692
- Armenian deaths total 1,500,000
That works out to
just over 11 Armenians killed for every single death on the Gallipoli
peninsula. These won't be recognised on April 25th 2015,
and it is this sort of silence which makes the rhetoric of 'respect
and friendship' between Turkey, Australia and New Zealand a very
sickening sort of relationship.
Even though the
Herald article made no mention of this important fact, and concluded
by paying tribute to the so called “bonds of friendship” between
Turkey and New Zealand, it was still one of the best articles I have
read so far this year in the mainstream press about the upcoming
centenary. It avoided a personalised focus and made reference to some
important historical events. It had a relatively critical
perspective, with the Turkish New Zealander Nejat Kavvas calling for
John Key to deliver an apology to the Turkish people for the huge
number of lives taken by the Allied invasion in 1915.
This sort of
request, no matter what your political views might happen to be,
should be taken seriously. The centenary of a major historical event
is an opportunity to engage with and critically reflect upon the
past. With New Zealand committing troops to Iraq, and Turkey being a
very major player in the Middle East region, such critical reflection
is even more important and relevant.
With these points in
mind, let us turn to consider John Key's thoughtful and profound
response to the request:
But today when
Mr Key was asked if he should apologise on behalf of New Zealand for
the bloodshed of 100 years ago, he replied: "No."
A spokeswoman
for this office said: "The Prime Minister has been invited to
Gallipoli by the Turkish government. He will use the occasion to pay
his respects to the people of Turkey, to commemorate a historic
campaign for our countries, and to remember those who sacrificed
their lives on both sides."
We might also
appreciate the wise words of the political philosopher David Farrar,
who posted this on his Kiwiblog recently:
Why only apologise to Turkey? Should we also apologise to Kaiser
Wilhelm II?
How do you possibly respond to this sort of wisdom?
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