LETTERS FROM AN OLD EMPIRE: ORHAN PAMUK: A BRAVE VOICE IN A TROUBLED COUNTRY
by Michael Paterakis
PopMatters, IL
March 21 2007
Sometimes fate orders strange situations. For Turkish writer Orhan
Pamuk, perhaps this one extraordinary experience was a moment
of triumph. The very same day he was awarded the Nobel Prize for
literature, the French Parliament passed a resolution to make denial
of the 1915 Armenian genocide a crime. Just one day was enough for
Pamuk to see his work receive worldwide acclaim and his politics
views outside his writing become justified.
The Turkish novelist took the center stage of global attention thanks
to his uncommon lyrical style, yes, but also due to his uncompromising
politics. His work was already well regarded in literary circles
worldwide prior to his unhesitating remarks during an interview in
February 2005 with Swiss weekly publication Das Magazin regarding the
killings of Kurds and Armenians in the beginning of the 20th century:
Thirty thousand Kurds and a million Armenians were killed in these
lands and nobody dares to talk about it," Pamuk stated in Das Magazin,
explaining later in an interview with the BBC that his objective was
to defend freedom of speech: "What happened to the Ottoman Armenians
in 1915 was a major thing that was hidden from the Turkish nation;
it was a taboo. But we have to be able to talk about the past.
This is a fearless declaration of his stance about truth, considering
that many journalists and writers in Turkey in the past have been
imprisoned for expressing their opinions on such culturally sensitive
issues. Indeed, a few have paid with their lives for their decision
to come forward and talk about this matter. The most recent example
is the assassination of Hrant Dink, a Turkish newspaper editor of
Armenian decent, on 19 January 2007.
Another well-known Turkish novelist and a close friend of Dink’s, Elif
Shafak, wrote of the editor of the weekly newspaper Agos in an obituary
published in Time magazine, ‘Ode to a Murdered Turkish Editor’:
"Tuesday, Jan. 23. The day we buried you. ‘Yes,’ you once said,
‘we Turkish Armenians do have a claim to the soil of this country,
but not to take it away, as some accuse us of secretly plotting,
but to be buried deep under it.’ Your funeral was spectacular. Tens
of thousands marched. They carried signs that said, WE ARE ALL HRANT,
WE ARE ALL ARMENIANS."
The official position of the Turkish state is that the Armenian
Genocide never took place. Pamuk was retroactively prosecuted for his
comments, under a penal code introduced in June 2005, which states:
"A person who, being a Turk, explicitly insults the Republic or Turkish
Grand National Assembly, shall be imposed to a penalty of imprisonment
for a term of six months to three years." Pamuk and Shafak, who have
both spoken publicly of the Armenian genocide, managed to have their
charges of "insulting Turkishness" acquitted.
Further demonstrating how complicated Turkey’s attitude regarding the
Armenian genocide is, Shafak acknowledged in the Time piece that Dink
wanted public dialogue about the issue but not at the expense of free
speech: "…you fervently opposed the Armenian genocide bill approved
by the French Parliament, which would make it a crime to say that
the events of 1915 were not a genocide, because, first and foremost,
you believed in freedom of expression." While Pamuk, Shafak and Dink
have each attempted to foster discourse on this issue, Dink differed
from the others in his non-support of the French genocide bill.
For Turkey, discussing publicly the genocide issue is both taboo,
as Pamuk pointed out in Das Magazin, and a major insult for the State.
However, few people in the Western world (excluding some professionals
like diplomats, professors, and journalists) can truly realize the
importance of Pamuk’s statement for the Turkish people.
It wouldn’t be unfair if I claimed that this giant nation is two-faced,
or better, is struggling between two faces: its modernized side versus
its traditional side. Doubtlessly Turkey is the most modernized
Muslim country, being a parliamentary democracy, yet its record of
suppressing public dissent invokes concern in the European Union,
where Turkey has applied to become a member.
David Hotham, a longtime London Times correspondent, in his book
published in 1972, simply called The Turks, wrote what in my opinion
is the best description of the fellow countrymen of Pamuk:
The Turk is unusually full of contradictions. Not only has he East and
West in him, European and Asian, but an intense pride combined with
an acute inferiority complex; a deep xenophobia with an overwhelming
friendliness and hospitality to strangers; a profound need for flattery
with an absolute disregard for what anybody thinks of him.
Many Europeans are against the possibility of seeing the Turks
become full members of their Union because of this rift between the
traditional and modern sides of Turkey. The divide between old and
new casts doubt on Turkey’s stance with regard to free speech as
well as reinforcing concerns about human rights. And it appears that
Turkish lawmakers offer plenty of pretexts that put more pressure
on the country’s back. Turkey has a long way to go (and many civic
liberties to give) before transforming itself into the fully modernized
and democratic state the European Union would consider admitting but
unfortunately, cases as Pamuk’s can cause greater setbacks to this
challenge with the publicity they earn.
Pamuk was born in 1952 in the showcase city of his country, Istanbul.
He studied architecture at the Istanbul Technical University due to
pressure to take over the family business but soon he realized that
his dream was to become a full-time writer. He subsequently graduated
from the Institute of Journalism at the University of Istanbul in
1976 before becoming a visiting scholar at Columbia University in
New York from 1985 to 1988. During that same period, he spent time
as a visiting fellow at the University of Iowa.
His early novels soon won critical appraises and literary awards.
Over time, Pamuk developed a writing style that revealed a deep love
for his birthplace and for Turkey in general. His first work, titled
Cevdet Bey ve Oðullarý (translated as Mr. Cevdet and His Sons), was
the story of three generations of a wealthy Istanbul family living
in the same district where Pamuk was born, Niþantaþi.
Lyricism is a critical component of Pamuk’s novels. Contrary to how
it may appear nowadays, Pamuk is not a political writer and never
actually has been interested in writing mainly about politics. What
he wanted to do when he talked about the Kurdish and the Armenian
genocide was to make an effort to bring Turkey to terms with its
history and reality. What Pamuk unintentionally achieved with this
remark was to have his name brought up in consideration of the Nobel
Prize in Literature.
His win was a surprise not because he didn’t deserve the award, but
because writers such as Philip Roth, Milan Kundera, and Umberto Eco,
to name a few, are felt by some in the literary community to deserve a
nod from the Swedish Academy. Pamuk is one of the youngest people ever
awarded with the prize. His victory is a bit like Martin Scorsese’s
Academy Award win this year: deserved but not based entirely on his
single, most recent work.
Pamuk’s personal challenge is to bridge the gap between the traditional
face of Turkey he loves and writes about with the side that the
contemporary world might be willing to accept. Most of his writing has
explored his country’s Ottoman Empire history rather than issues of
modern politico-mixed-religious extremes. The autobiographic Istanbul:
Memories and the City (2006) recollects images from Turkey’s recent
past and Pamuk’s own life. On the other hand, the novel The White
Castle (1985) offers a vivid description of the Ottoman Empire during
the 17th century.
Turkey is literally cut off from its past. After the defeat and the
dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire in World War I, Kemal Ataturk-the
‘father of Turks’, as his name is translated-created a new republic
solely for Turks (minorities like Kurds or Armenians faced heavy
persecution), based on the organization of the modern western states.
One of his early undertakings was to ban many Ottoman traditions,
including outlawing religious practices like those performed by the
dervish sects. But his most important amendment was the introduction of
the Latin alphabet. As a result, Turks cannot read their own classics,
formerly written in the Arabic alphabet, without translation.
Despite Pamuk’s well-meaning attempts to share Turkey’s rich history
with readers in the 21st century, various factions find reason to
reproach Pamuk for betraying his Turkish background. For example,
the nationalist Turks, infected with Kemal Ataturk’s dogma, accuse
him of being too religious, while for the Islamists he is yet another
blasphemous western-style writer. The truth lies somewhere in the
middle. Pamuk is in love with the Ottoman past of his country in which
religion was an important factor but he also admires democratic values
such as the separation between religion and the state.
Although he is a bestselling novelist in Turkey-in every corner
of Istanbul you can find pirated editions of his books-when the
news of his Nobel award broke and made headlines around the globe,
journalist Fatih Altaili questioned, in his article at the popular
Turkish daily Sabah, whether: "We should be happy about it or sad",
adding: "Turkey cannot be happy about this award, even if it should,
because it can’t see Pamuk as its own man." The same reaction could
be seen in many parts of the Turkish press.
Pamuk’s narrative style is rather foreign for Turkey. My Name is Red
(2001), for example, is narrated in part by such unusual characters
as a corpse, a dog, and a gold coin, but each manages to move the
story forward in linear fashion. Influenced by great western writers,
Pamuk doesn’t hesitate to introduce postmodern motifs that portray
space and time as malleable entities which often bend and change;
novel elements to the writing tradition of his country. Yet every
single new book he has published has sold out in just few days.
Pamuk’s literary success would ultimately seem to be due to this
ongoing and divided love affair of modern Turks between the past
and the present of their country, between tradition and modernity,
between loyalty to Turkey and interest in the world outside.
Controversial for his political views advocating the need to talk about
mistakes the state of Turkey has made, no matter what opinions exist
about his work, Pamuk has used his fame as a platform to speak out
regarding his country’s problems and policies. Admired and deplored
in turn by his fellow Turks, Pamuk’s public image mirrors that of
contemporary Turkey. And he is not alone among public figures within
Turkey calling for open discussion regarding Turkey’s past-as well
as its future.
Michael Paterakis is a freelance writer and a college undergraduate
based in Athens, Greece. He has reported extensively on a series of
cultural and sports issues and for the past three years (since 2004)
he has been the Goal.com Greece Correspondent.
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