Agos, January 12th, 2007

A foreword before I begin: I have been sentenced to 6 months imprisonment for “insulting Turkishness,” a crime I haven’t committed. I am now applying to the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) as a last resort. My lawyers will submit the petition by January 17th and they wanted me to write an account of this period. I decided to share this article, which will be included in the case file, with the public. I do this because the conscience of the people of Turkey is as important to me as the decision of the ECHR, if not more. I probably would have preferred to keep some of the information disclosed in this article, as well as my state of mind, to myself. But since things have come to this point, I guess that sharing everything will be for the best.

It is not just me, nor just Armenians, but an entire public that wants to know the answer to this question: “For almost everyone against whom an investigation or legal action was initiated on charges of insulting Turkishness, a technical or a juridical solution was decided on and the cases were dismissed in the first hearings without a conviction. Why then was Hrant Dink convicted and sentenced to 6 months?”

Getting away with it

This is neither an incorrect assessment nor an unnecessary question. If you recall, they worked hard to find a way to dismiss the case of Orhan Pamuk before hearings began. Some said that the Minister of Justice had to give permission for the trial, so the Minister was asked about it. The Justice Minister, cornered, railed at Orhan Pamuk on the one hand, and on the other called upon him to say that he hadn’t said such a thing. Eventually the first hearing of the “Pamuk case” was held. The vandalism staged during this first hearing disgraced Turkey in the eyes of the world so badly that the case was dismissed before a second hearing was held. Pamuk’s article 301 adventure ended with a technical solution. An even lighter solution was found in the Elif Safak case. Although there was a lot of noise before the case started, it was dismissed in the first hearing, without Elif Safak having to come to court. Everybody was quite happy with these technical solutions. Even the Prime Minister called Safak personally to convey his good wishes regarding the dismissal of her case. Similarly, writers and academics who had faced prosecution for the crime of “insulting Turkishness” for writing articles after the Armenian Conference also “got away with it,” receiving similar “slaps on the wrists” only.

Unanswered questions

Don’t think that I am jealous that these cases were resolved so easily. On the contrary, the mere fact that these trials or investigations took place is a very heavy price to pay for the people involved. I am one of those who know and understand best what these friends of mine experienced. My point is to try and find some answers to the question of why similar concern and alarm were not shown in the Hrant Dink case. We saw that these mere “slaps on the wrists” gave the government an opportunity to point to them as examples of Turkish good faith in the eyes of the EU, which is pressing for the repeal of article 301. But the conviction of Hrant Dink was the only case in which the government had no answers for the European Union. There was total silence when this issue was raised. Truly, “Why is it that for almost everyone who was investigated or prosecuted on charges of insulting Turkishness, a legal or technical solution was found so that the cases were closed without any convictions, but not for Hrant Dink? He was sentenced to 6 months for an article in which there was no crime committed.

The role of my being an Armenian

Yes, we all need an answer to this question, especially me. At the end of the day, I am a citizen of this country and I insist on being treated equally with everyone else. I have, of course, faced a lot of negative discrimination for being an Armenian. For instance, when I was doing my short-term military service (8 months) in the Denizli 12th Infantry Regiment, all of my friends were promoted except me. I was a man with two children and normally I shouldn’t have cared. What’s more, I would be more comfortable than the others, as I would not be assigned night watches or tough duties. But the truth of the matter is, I was deeply affected by this discrimination. I will never ever forget how I hid behind the tin hut and cried for two hours, alone, while everyone else joyously celebrated their promotions with their families following. But the moment which remains a deep a wound in my memory occurred when the field officer called me to his office and tried to comfort me by saying, “Don’t worry, if you happen to have any problems, come to me.” Obviously being prosecuted under 301 - and getting convicted or acquitted - is not the same as a promotion. Hence, I am not, of course, saying anything like, “If they were not convicted, I shouldn’t have been either,” or above all, “If I am convicted, then they should have been also.” But I have to admit that as someone who has matured by experiencing numerous instances of discrimination, my mind can’t stop asking this question: “Has my being an Armenian played a role in this outcome?”

Things I know and things I sense

Of course when I put the things I know and the things I sense together, I do have an answer to this question. This is how it can be summed up: certain people decided and said, “This Hrant Dink man has gone too far. He needs to learn a lesson,” and pushed the button. I know this is a claim which puts myself and my Armenian identity at center stage. You may argue that I exaggerate. But nevertheless, this is my perception of it. The facts I have and my life experiences leave me no other explanation. My task now is to tell you everything I have lived and sensed. Then, you can decide for yourself.

Showing the stick

First, let me clarify what “Hrant Dink is becoming too much” means. Dink was in the spotlight for a long time and disturbed many people. He had been occasionally overstepping the line since 1996, the year he started publishing Agos, by voicing the problems of, and demanding rights for, the Armenian community and expressing his own views about history, which ran counter to the official Turkish state doctrine. But the last straw was the article on Sabiha Gokcen, published in February 2004, in Agos. In an article titled “The Secret of Sabiha Hatun”, written by Hrant Dink, the Armenian relatives of Sabiha Gokcen, who was the adopted daughter of Ataturk, claimed that she was in fact an orphan taken from an Armenian orphanage. Turkey was shaken when Hurriyet, the best selling newspaper of Turkey, quoted the article in a headline in its 21 February 2004 issue. Columnists wrote both negative and positive comments about it, and statements were issued by different public groups. The most important statement was the written statement of the General Staff. The General Staff reacted to this news by saying that “Regardless of its aim, opening a national symbol like this up to discussion is a crime against national integrity and social peace.” They believed that the authors of this article were evil-minded and trying to destroy the image of a person who had become a myth and a symbol of the Turkish woman by stripping her of her Turkish identity. Who were these tactless people, who was this Hrant Dink? Someone needs to put him in his place!

Invitation to an official chat

The declaration of the Chief of Staff was published on February 22. I listened to this long declaration on TV at home. I felt uneasy. I felt that something would happen the next day, for sure. As it turned out, my intuition was right. My phone rang early the next morning. It was one of the deputy governors of Istanbul. He said, in a cold voice, that he was waiting to see me in his office, and that I should bring with me all the documents I had related to the news item. When I asked the purpose of this invitation, he answered that he wanted to have a chat and to see the documents I have. I called my experienced journalist friends and asked them how I should interpret this invitation. They said that this was unusual, but not a legal proceeding, and advised me to go.

I had to be careful

I took my friends’ advice and went to the deputy governor with the documents I had. He was very polite. When he invited me in, I noticed that two other people - a man and a woman - were in the room as well. He told me that they were his close acquaintances and asked if it was okay with me if they stayed during our meeting. I had already realized how delicate the situation was and so said that that I had no objection and took a seat. The deputy governor immediately came to the point. “Mr. Hrant,” he said, “you are a highly experienced journalist. Wouldn’t it be better if you wrote your stories more carefully? And also, what use are these kinds of stories anyway? You see what a commotion it has caused. We know who you are, but the ordinary people on the street don’t. They may think that you have other intentions in writing this kind of news. You see this document? The Armenian Patriarch received a petition complaining about some internet sites. There are some inconsiderate people who were trying to initiate what could be called terrorist acts against some institutions of the Armenian community. We searched for these people, found them in Bursa and handed them over to the authorities. But, the streets are full of people like these. Shouldn’t we be more careful about writing this kind of news?” The male guest took over the discussion completely; no one else could get a word in edgewise. He reiterated the things that the Deputy Governor had said in a clearer tone. He said that I had to be careful, that I should avoid doing anything that would create tension in the country and among people. He was repeatedly warning me by saying, “Even though we do not agree with the tone of your writing, it is clear to us from much of what you have written that you do not have bad intentions. However, this might not be the case for everyone, and so the consequences for you could be negative.” For my part, I told them why I wrote that story. First of all, I was a journalist and it was a story that would excite any journalist. Secondly, I wanted to try to talk about the Armenian question via the survivors, instead of the dead. But they made me understand that it was even harder to talk about the survivors. As I was about to leave, I realised that they hadn’t asked about the documents I brought with me. I reminded them that they had asked for the documents, and handed them over. The reason for the invitation was clear from what they said anyway. I had to know my boundaries… I had to be careful… Or else—it could turn out badly for me!

Now I was the target

Indeed what followed was not good. The day after I was summoned to the governor’s office, many columnists in different newspapers had zoomed in on one sentence from my series of essays on Armenian identity and started to suggest that I was running an anti-Turkish campaign. They focused on, “The clean blood to replace the poisoned blood that will come out of the Turk is present in the noble vein that the Armenians will create with Armenia.” Following these articles, on February 26, a group of ultra-nationalists led by Levent Temiz, head of an ultra-nationalist youth group, gathered in front of the Agos building and chanted slogans against me, threatening me. The police had already been informed that this demonstration was going to happen. The necessary measures to ensure our safety were taken, both inside Agos and at the entrance of the building. All of the TV channels and journalists had been informed beforehand, and they were also all in front of Agos. The slogans of the group were very clear: “Love it or leave it,’’ “God damn ASALA,’’ “We could show up any night unexpectedly.” Levent Temiz made a speech in which his target was also very clear: “Hrant Dink is the target of all our fury and hatred.” After the demonstration, the group dispersed. However, for some reason, none of the TV channels (except the religious Channel 7) or newspapers (except the leftist and pro-Kurdish Özgür Gündem – Free Agenda) broadcast what had happened. It was clear that the powers that had led the ultra-nationalists to Agos also succeeded in keeping the media from broadcasting those negative images and slogans.

On the edge of danger

A couple of days later a similar demonstration was held in front of Agos by a group of people who called themselves the “Federation to Fight Against Baseless Armenian Claims.’’ Then suddenly a group called the “Grand Lawyers Association” headed by lawyer Kemal Kerinçsiz, who wasn’t known until then, became a party to this process. Kerinçsiz and his friends filed a complaint against me with the Şişli Prosecutor’s Office. This complaint effectively sped up cases initiated under the infamous article 301, which has ruined Turkey’s reputation. As for me, it was the start of a dangerous process. In fact I have walked on the edge of danger throughout my life. Either danger loved me or I loved it; and here I was, on the edge of the same cliff once again. There were people after me again. I could sense them. And I knew very well that they were not limited to Kerinçsiz’s group, that they were not that visible, not that ordinary.

Agos, January 19th, 2007

In the beginning, I wasn’t apprehensive about the inquest initiated by the Şişli public prosecutor against me on the grounds that I had “insulted Turkishness.”

It wasn’t the first time, as I had been through a similar investigation in Urfa. For three years I was tried for the crime of “insulting Turkishness” because I had stated at a conference held in Urfa in 2002 that I was not a Turk, but rather that I was an Armenian Turkish citizen. However, I didn’t even know how the trial was proceeding. I wasn’t interested; some lawyer friends of mine from Urfa were representing me at the hearings.

So I was fairly unconcerned when I gave my deposition to the public prosecutor of Şişli. I ultimately believed in what I had written and in my intentions. The prosecutor, by not only looking at that one sentence which meant nothing out of context but rather by considering the entire text, would easily realize that I had no intention of “insulting Turkishness” whatsoever. Soon enough this comedy would be over.

I felt certain that at the conclusion of the inquiry, a case would not be brought against me.

I was sure of myself

But to my shock and surprise, the trial began. Nonetheless, my optimism wasn’t shaken.

I was so sure of myself that, during a live telephone call broadcast on a television program, I told Kerençsiz, the lawyer pressing charges against me, that he shouldn’t be overly hopeful about the results and that I wouldn’t be charged with anything. I even added that if I were sentenced, I would leave the country. I was confident that no traces of an intention or desire to “insult Turkishness” could be found in my article, and anyone who read all of my articles would clearly understand this.

Indeed a three-person panel of experts comprised of Istanbul University professors submitted a report to the court stating that this was truly the case. I had no reason for concern; the trial, in this stage or in another, would be steered towards the right path.

Staying patient

But it wasn’t.

Despite the experts’ report, the prosecutor wanted to press charges, and the judge decided on a sentence of imprisonment for six months. On hearing the sentence, the hopes I had nourished during the course of the trial turned into a bitter weight. I was bewildered; my hurt and rebellion were boundless. For days, for months, I held out by telling myself, “Look, let the verdict be handed down, you’ll see that it’s an acquittal, and then you will regret all you have spoken and written about.”

In every hearing it was argued that I had said, “The blood of the Turks is poisonous,” which was then published in newspapers, editorial columns and television programs. With each pronouncement I was becoming a little more well-known as an “enemy of the Turks.” In the hallways of the courthouse, fascists rained racist curses on me. They insulted me with placards and banners, and day by day the flood of threatening telephone calls, e-mails and letters was on the rise.

Telling myself to keep patient, I held out, waiting for acquittal. With the announcement of acquittal, the truth would come out one way or another, and those people would be ashamed of what they had done.

My only weapon is my sincerity

But a guilty verdict was passed, and all of my hopes were dashed.

I was in the most dismal state imaginable. The judge made a ruling in the name of the “Turkish people” and it was legally registered that I had “insulted Turkishness.” I could have withstood everything, but not this.

In my opinion, denigration of a person based on any kind of ethnic or religious difference is racism and as such, unpardonable. With this in mind, I told those friends in the press and media who were waiting at my door to see whether or not I would hold to my word that I would “leave the country” if convicted: “I am going to consult my lawyer. I am going to apply to the court of appeals and, if necessary, I will go to the European Court of Human Rights. After all of this, if not acquitted, I will leave my country; someone charged with such a crime, in my opinion, does not have the right to live among citizens he has insulted.”

As I said these words, I was, as always, emotional. My only weapon was my sincerity.

Black Humor

But the hidden powers that had worked to isolate me in the eyes of the Turkish public and make me a target found a foothold in my statement to take me to court again, this time accusing me of trying to influence the juridical process. But it didn’t stop there; even though my pronouncement had been published by all of the press agencies and media corporations, Agos was singled out. The directors at Agos and I were put on trial, this time for attempting to obstruct justice.

This had to be some kind of sick joke. I was a defendant; who else could possibly have the right to try to pull the process of justice towards their own defense? The comic irony here was that the defendant trying to influence his case was then being tried again.

In the name of the Turkish state

I have to admit that my faith in the judicial system and the concept of law was quite battered. How couldn’t it be? Hadn’t these attorneys, these judges, studied at universities and graduated from schools of law? Isn’t it necessary for them to be able to comprehend what they study?

It is clear, however, that this country’s judicial system is not as independent as state officers and politicians boast.

The judiciary doesn’t defend the rights of the citizenry, it defends the state.

The judiciary isn’t on the side of the people, it is in the pocket of the state.

I was utterly sure of these facts; no matter how the ruling was presented as clearly being “in the name of the people,” it was in truth “in the name of the state.” In this way, although my lawyers were going to apply to the court of appeals, what guarantee was there that the powers that be would not play a role there as well in determining my fate?

In any case, were the judgments handed down by the court of appeals just? Wasn’t this the same court that signed off on unfair laws which confiscated property from the Minority foundations?

In spite of the Attorney General’s efforts

We applied to the court of appeals, but what came of it?

The Attorney General, just as the panel of experts reported in the first trial, stated that there was no incriminating evidence and asked for my acquittal, but the High Court once again found me guilty. The Attorney General, just as sure as I about the contents of my writing, objected to the ruling and transferred the case to the General Assembly.

Nevertheless, that immense power which was taking the lead in deciding my destiny and which, with methods I will never comprehend, made its presence felt in all of the stages of my trial, was once again pulling the strings. In the end, with a majority vote, it was announced that once again I had been found guilty of “insulting Turkishness.”

Like a dove

It is quite clear that those who wished to alienate, weaken and render me defenseless had succeeded. By means of mud-slinging and misleading information served up to the public, they have managed to create an image of Hrant Dink as one who “insults Turkishness,” and in the process their numbers have increased significantly. My computer’s memory drives are full of angry and threatening messages sent by fellow citizens supporting this group’s cause.

(I should note here that one of these letters, posted from Bursa, gravely concerned me and seemed to be an imminent threat; even though I took the letter to the Şişli District Attorney, to date absolutely no action has been taken).

How real are these threats, are they just phantoms? Of course it is not possible for me to know. The most fundamental threat for me, and the most unbearable, is the psychological torture that I have experienced as a result of my own thoughts. The question, “What do these people think of me?” gnaws at me. It is unfortunate that I am so much more well-known than I was in the past, and I am acutely sensitive to the glances thrown my way which say, “Oh look, isn’t he that Armenian?” And, as a reflex, the self-torture begins.

One aspect of that torture is curiosity; another, edginess.

Another aspect is caution; and another, fear.

I am just like a dove. Like a dove’s, my gaze flits right, left, forward, back. My head is just as fidgety, and quick to turn.

This is the price you pay

What was the Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül saying? What about the Minister of Justice Cemil Çiçek? “Now look, article 301 doesn’t contain anything worth blowing out of proportion. Has anyone been sent to prison on account of it?” As if paying the price only meant going to prison.

This is the price for you, this is the price you pay.

Ministers, do you know what it means to sentence someone to live a dove’s life of constant fear? Do you? Don’t you ever watch doves?

'Life or death'

The things I have lived through have not been easy, neither for me nor my family.

There were moments when I very seriously considered leaving the country, especially when people close to me started receiving threats. At that point I was at my wit’s end. I thought, this must be what they call a “life or death situation.” I could have held out on my own, but I had no right to put the lives of others in danger. I could have been my own hero, but in the name of valor I couldn’t assume the right to put those dear to me, or anyone for that matter, in peril.
It was in hopeless times like these that I gathered my family and children together, and found shelter with them. They believed in me. Wherever I was, they would be there with me. If I said, “Let’s go,” they would come. If I said, “Let’s stay,” they would stay.

To stay and to resist

Ok but, if we left, where would we go?

To Armenia? Fine, but for someone like me who could not stand injustice, how would I put up with the injustices there? Wouldn’t I find myself in even more trouble?

As for Europe, well, it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

I’m the kind of person who after just a couple of days in some Western land finds himself desperately longing to have it all over with and go back home—“Ok, that’s enough, let’s go home.” Now what would a person like that, like me, do in the West? The comfort would drive me crazy. To escape from the “fiery depths of hell” to a “pre-fabricated heaven” would go against everything I am.

We are the kind of people who aspire to turn the hell we inhabit into a heaven.

Our respect for those who struggle for democracy in Turkey, for those who support us, and for the thousands of friends we know and those we don’t know personally demanded that we stay and live in Turkey. Not only that, but it was our own personal desire to stay and live in Turkey.

We would stay, and we would resist.

But what if one day we had to leave? Just like in 1915, we would go; just like our ancestors, not knowing where we were going, on the same roads they travelled, enduring pain, suffering anguish. With reprehension, we would leave our homeland. And we would go where our feet took us, not where our hearts led us - wherever that would be.

Afraid and free

I hope that we will never have to make such a departure. We have more than enough hope, and more than enough reasons, to avoid such a situation.
I am applying to the European Court of Human Rights. The trial will last at least a few years. The knowledge that, at the very least, I will be able to live in Turkey until the end of the trial comforts me. When a verdict is handed down in my favor, I will be even more pleased, and it will also mean that I will never have to leave my country.

Very likely 2007 will be an even more difficult year for me.

The accusations will continue, and new ones will come forth. Who knows how many injustices I will have to endure. But as these things happen, I will find reassurance in the fact that, while I may view my current state of mind, my current state of soul, as being marked by the disquiet characteristic of doves, I know that in this country, nobody ever hurts doves.

Doves live their lives in the hearts of cities, amid the crowds and human bustle.

Yes they live a little uneasily, a little apprehensively—but they live freely too.