GUNAYSU: A ‘BOLSETSI’ IN LOS ANGELES
by Ayse Gunaysu
December 27, 2011
I was in Los Angeles from Nov. 23-27, a place I never imagined I would
go! Long journeys to unknown lands have always frightened me. But
this time I was invited by the ANCA-Western Region to participate in
their three-day conference at the Sheraton Universal.
Gunaysu: “There must be reparations. At least, the ones who work for
the recognition in Turkey have to demand, put pressure on the policy
makers, for official steps to compensate for the immense loss. I
know that it is irreparable, it is unforgivable, it is incurable,
but still Turkey will always bear the responsibility, the obligation,
to assure the grandchildren of genocide victims that it is ready to
heal the wounds in any way it can.”
I thought I would, in this issue of the Armenian Weekly, share with
readers my very personal experience on that journey with excerpts
from a speech I gave on Sat., Dec. 26-a very important day for me-at
a session titled “Confronting Truth, Delivering Justice: Turkey and
the Armenian Genocide.”
My LA days, the time I spent there, what I did, saw, and heard there,
and my state of mind, still seem to be covered by a mist. This was
because of the deep and complicated mixture of fear, excitement,
emotional upheaval, and awkwardness that had engulfed me, both before
and during the visit, until the moment I found myself standing before
an audience of 400. But why fear? Despite the risk of sounding a bit
too personal, I will confess: fear of speaking in public, especially in
English, has been my phobia since my childhood due to the long history,
even a sort of affection, between me and my old friend stuttering!
So, during those three days, until that moment on the platform, the
shimmering panoramic view of LA from my hotel window at night, the
faces of the people I met, the words spoken, the eyes looking at me,
still appear as if they are all behind a thin curtain moving with a
soft breeze, causing the images to be blurred at times, coming and
going as if in a dream.
Yet, very paradoxically, there are many things that are crystal clear
in my mind: moments with the individuals and families I met, their
warmth, their commitment to the Armenian identity, the fluent Armenian
in my ears spoken by everyone around me, the feeling of fulfillment
from hearing it just like when I hear it in Turkey (though very seldom
in the case of the latter), their immediately responsive heart, the
very familiar Armenian spirit embracing the entire atmosphere in
the home of that dear family I visited, and the dignity, respect,
affection, and devotion with which the family members treated each
other, just as I have seen in Armenian homes in Turkey. And as for
the organizers and activists, I remember their sharply focused energy
and the professional quality of their voluntary work.
Until just a few days before my journey, I didn’t know what to talk
about at the conference. In everything I do in Turkey in my voluntary
work for the recognition of the genocide, there is the boiling
motivation to show individuals what they have been unable to see, to
refute lies, to establish connections between well-known facts, and
to draw conclusions that I hope will help make an impact in a country
of total denial. So I always know what to do and what to say here in
Turkey. But when it came to talking to the Armenian community in LA,
the question was what kind of a talk would be meaningful for them,
apart from saying things they already knew by heart?
Besides, I am not a scholar, nor an historian or a writer or a
researcher, but just a human rights activist. So, I decided to tell
stories-quoting what I said there, “human stories, small anecdotes,
momentary observations, snapshots from life, which, when put together
correctly, can present us the landscape of Turkey today.”
Gunaysu in LA I told my father’s story to explain how the enormous
mechanism of denial worked so smoothly to convince people. I said what
I heard from the local people in historic Armenia to illustrate the
suppressed collective guilt for the colossal plundering of Armenian
wealth. I told of the incidents of collective hallucinations stemming
from this guilt.
But before all this, I said I was not alone: “I must say that although
you see me, a single one person, I am not alone. I brought to you with
me the message of others back in Turkey who believe that no peace, no
justice, no salvation, no cure for all the illnesses we are suffering
from, will be possible for what is now Turkey without the recognition
of the Armenian Genocide and the genocide of Assyrians and Greeks in
Asia Minor, and who want to express their apology as the perpetrator
group’s descendants.”
I also gave examples that show how denial in Turkey is not only over
the genocide, but over the very existence of Armenians in the country
even before the Turks came: “Only a few years ago, a publishing house
published Arnold Toynbee’s memoirs and they censored the parts where
he refers to the Armenian Genocide. I checked the whole section and
noted the missing and distorted parts one by one. But nobody had
ordered them to do this. They themselves did it.”
“Another example,” I continued. “The Turkish branch of a big
multinational company published in Turkish and English a prestigious
book about the history of Turkey in the late 1980’s. The book was
written in English by one of the top-level global executives of the
group. But while the translation was going on, the Turkish manager in
charge managed to get the author’s permission to delete all references
to the past existence of Armenians-the old kingdoms dating back to the
first century B.C., and so on. He told the author that the company’s
investments in Turkey would be endangered if he did not.”
“What if non-governmental organizations and corporations did not do
what the government would like them to do? In the 1980’s, the chief
editor of the Turkish edition of Ana Britannica encyclopedia was
prosecuted for mentioning the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia under the
topics Adana and Adiyaman. The prosecutor demanded a prison sentence
of 15 years for her. At the end-the trial took more than one year-she
was acquitted. But it was one of many messages the state sent to
people about what would happen if they were not totally committed to
the official ideology.”
“Please take note that there is no mention of genocide in any of
the two incidents I just mentioned. It is only the mention of the
existence of Armenians in the past, centuries before the genocide.”
Nearing the end of my talk, I said that, regarding recognition and
an apology, I didn’t believe in good intentions only. “There must be
reparations. At least, the ones who work for the recognition in Turkey
have to demand, put pressure on the policy makers, for official steps
to compensate for the immense loss. I know that it is irreparable, it
is unforgivable, it is incurable, but still Turkey will always bear the
responsibility, the obligation, to assure the grandchildren of genocide
victims that it is ready to heal the wounds in any way it can.”
What was given to me after the session and during the banquet that
night was both disproportionately rewarding and achingly embarrassing.
The encounter was itself painful and heavily loaded, as were the
words exchanged and hugs given.
On my way back to Istanbul, my feelings were inextricably entangled. I
felt grateful to those who were so generous to me. I felt unhappy
with myself for not being able to respond how I would have liked
to. I felt a strong awareness that my real duty was in Turkey, where
causing doubt-over the official Turkish ideology-in the mind of even
one person or pointing out one tiny piece of the truth to a bunch of
people in a small conference room is a big achievement for those who
demand justice.
A week after I returned home, for the first time I moderated a meeting
in my home country, speaking freely and confidently. The obsessive
fear of talking to the public was gone with my participation in the
ANCA conference in LA. It was a sort of therapy, a healing. This
time, in Istanbul, I was moderating a presentation by Osman Koker on
the lost churches of Anatolia, either purposefully demolished by the
state or left in disrepair. We saw the sad photographs of the remains
of once-beautiful works of art witnesses to a rich and developed
civilization. Yes, it was held in a small conference room, a sharp
contrast with the one in LA. The audience was few in number, around
70, compared to the 400 listeners in the Sheraton Universal Ballroom.
As Osman invited the audience to interrupt while he was speaking and
contribute to the presentation whenever they felt the need, Armenians
from Arapkir, Diyarbekir, Sivas, and Kayseri contributed their own
knowledge from their childhood or from their parents. A young Turkish
lawyer introduced herself and, before asking her question to Osman,
apologized for being a Muslim. After the meeting I invited her to
work with us in our Committee Against Racism and Discrimination,
and she accepted willingly. Yes, I said, I have to be here, to
work here humbly, rather than travel abroad and receive heartfelt
appreciation for something that should and would not be extraordinary
and praiseworthy if Turkey were a country where justice is served
and the obligation to compensate is duly fulfilled.
Now, after nearly a month after the LA conference, I thank the
ANCA-Western Region for the extraordinary experience, and each team
member for their help during my stay. I thank Lena, Linda, Garo
(Garry), and their families for the elegance and warmth in welcoming
me in Glendale.
Now, I am dreaming of a conference on recognition in Istanbul to host
a colleague from the ANCA-Western Region as a participant. Who knows,
may be one day, not before very long.
From: Baghdasarian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2011/12/27/gunaysu-a-bolsetsi-in-los-angeles/