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Truth and Consequences: Armenians, Turks and Jews
August 21, 2007 - New York - `I believe that engagement, not avoidance,
is the best strategy. In a perfect world, Armenian and Turkish
historians would sit together and review the archival material, debate
differences, and seek a common understanding of the past,' writes AJC
Executive Director David A. Harris on the Jerusalem Post Blog.
David A. Harris
Executive Director
American Jewish Committee
New York, August 21, 2007
From 2000 to 2002, I led a graduate seminar entitled "Post-Holocaust
Ethical and Political Issues' at Johns Hopkins University's School of
Advanced International Studies. Among the topics covered was the
politics of memory.
One of the case studies we explored was the controversy surrounding
language and its power. We looked in depth at the massacre of
Armenians and how its depiction had become a subject of fierce debate,
primarily between Armenians, who insisted on calling the events of
1915 a genocide, and Turks, who adamantly refused to countenance the
g-word. Essentially, this was a zero-sum game. Either one supported
the Armenian or the Turkish position, whether for historical or
political reasons, but neither side allowed room for compromise.
The basic Armenian argument was that up to 1.5 million Armenians were
deliberately targeted and massacred by the Ottoman Empire, eight years
before the modern Turkish Republic came into being. At the time, the
word genocide didn't exist. It was Raphael Lemkin, a Polish-born Jew,
who coined the term. The Holocaust was the most immediate frame of
reference for him, but he was also haunted by the slaughter of the
Armenians - and by the need to prevent a repeat of any such
occurrences - throughout his career. But had it been in use, it no
doubt would have been invoked by Ambassador Henry Morgenthau, the
U.S. envoy to Turkey at the time and one of the primary sources on the
tragedy cited by the Armenians.
No, replied the Turks. This was a time of war. The Armenians sided
with Russia, the enemy. Many people, both Turks and Armenians, were
killed, but that was the regrettable, if inevitable, consequence of
conflict, and not a deliberate campaign to wipe the Armenians off the
face of the earth, as the Nazis later sought to do to the Jews.
In recent years, of course, the survivors and eyewitnesses have
disappeared. But each side has marshaled as much documentary evidence
as it could to buttress its assertion. Yet neither side has been
talking to the other. Instead, both have been appealing to the rest of
the world, seeking supporters.
Not surprisingly, each has sought to draw the Jews to its ranks. The
Jews' moral voice, they reckoned, far exceeds actual numbers. The
people of the Shoah are best positioned to tip the scales in one
direction or the other.
The Armenian position has been straightforward. As victims of the
Holocaust, who can better understand the Armenian ordeal and anguish
than the Jews? Fearful of the danger of Holocaust denial, aren't the
Jews most aware of the slippery slope of distorting historical truth?
And wasn't it Adolf Hitler who reportedly asked, `Who still talks
nowadays of the extermination of the Armenians?' - in effect, paving
the way for the Final Solution?
Meanwhile, the Turkish stance has been that Jews shouldn't simply
accept the Armenian version of history lock, stock and barrel, as it's
fraught with distortion and deceit, but rather bear in mind the
traditional Turkish welcome of minority communities, especially the
embrace of dispersed Jews from Spain by the Ottoman Empire at the end
of the 15th century.
Moreover, Turkish leaders have also at times taken a tougher line,
suggesting, in barely veiled language, that a Jewish acceptance of the
Armenian version of history could have negative consequences for other
Jewish interests, whether in Turkey or beyond.
And it is in this vise that many Jews have lived for years,
essentially pitting principle against pragmatism. For armchair
observers, that may look like an easy choice, but, in the world of
policy, where actions can have real-life consequences, it's anything
but.
Look at successive governments of the United States, whether under
Democratic or Republican leaders. All have reached the same
conclusion: Turkey is of vital importance to U.S. geo-strategic
interests, straddling as it does two continents, Europe and Asia,
bordering key countries - from the former Soviet Union to Iran, Iraq
and Syria - and serving as the southeastern flank of NATO. Each
administration has essentially punted when asked about the Armenian
question, seeking to discourage the United States Congress from
recognizing the events of 1915 as genocide, while arguing that a
third-party parliamentary body isn't the right venue to settle a
heated historical dispute.
And now I come back full circle to my Johns Hopkins classroom. I had
four or five Turkish students in the course. All but one proudly
defended Turkey's historical record, stubbornly refusing to consider
any competing narrative. But there was one young woman who, on reading
the assigned material and much more, came to me and said that for the
first time she doubted the official Turkish version of events. There
were simply too many compelling accounts of the suffering of Armenians
to swallow whole the Turkish line. She then went a step further and
shared her thinking with our class. Regrettably, the other Turkish
students distanced themselves from her, but the other students admired
her for her courage. They instinctively understood that it wasn't easy
for her to express her sorrow and confusion, but that, under the
circumstances, it seemed the right thing to do. I, too, admired her.
I have a strong connection to Turkey, a country I have visited on
numerous occasions and to which I feel very close. Few countries have
a more critically important role to play in the sphere of
international relations. I remain grateful to this day for the refuge
that the Ottoman Empire gave to Jews fleeing the Inquisition. I am
intimately connected to the Turkish Jewish community and admire their
patriotism and enormous contribution to their homeland. I deeply
appreciate the link between Turkey and Israel, which serves the best
interests of both democratic nations in a tough region. And I value
Turkey's role as an anchor of NATO and friend of the United States.
At the same time, I cannot escape the events of 1915 and the
conclusions reached by credible voices, from Ambassador Morgenthau to
Harvard professor Samantha Power, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of
A Problem from Hell: American and the Age of Genocide, to the United
States Holocaust Memorial Museum, about the nature of what took place:
it was a genocide, they determined, albeit one that occurred more than
thirty years before the term was coined.
From my experience in tackling difficult relationships, I believe
that engagement, not avoidance, is the best strategy. In a perfect
world, Armenian and Turkish historians would sit together and review
the archival material, debate differences, and seek a common
understanding of the past. To date, that hasn't happened in any
meaningful way. I continue to hope that it will. It should. We at AJC
have offered our services, if needed, to help facilitate such an
encounter. Ninety years of distance ought to allow for the creation of
a `safe' space to consider contested issues.
Meanwhile, as the issue once again heats up in the United States, it's
important to be clear. In a book entitled Holocaust Denial, published
by the American Jewish Committee in 1993, the author, Kenneth Stern,
an AJC staff expert on the subject, noted: `That the Armenian genocide
is now considered a topic for debate, or as something to be discounted
as old history, does not bode well for those who would oppose
Holocaust denial.'
He was right. Picture a day when a muscle-flexing Iran or Saudi Arabia
seeks to make denial of the Holocaust a condition of doing business
with other countries. Sound far-fetched? It shouldn't.
We have many interests as a Jewish people. Protecting historical truth
ought to be right up there near the top of the list.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
August 21, 2007 - New York - `I believe that engagement, not avoidance,
is the best strategy. In a perfect world, Armenian and Turkish
historians would sit together and review the archival material, debate
differences, and seek a common understanding of the past,' writes AJC
Executive Director David A. Harris on the Jerusalem Post Blog.
David A. Harris
Executive Director
American Jewish Committee
New York, August 21, 2007
From 2000 to 2002, I led a graduate seminar entitled "Post-Holocaust
Ethical and Political Issues' at Johns Hopkins University's School of
Advanced International Studies. Among the topics covered was the
politics of memory.
One of the case studies we explored was the controversy surrounding
language and its power. We looked in depth at the massacre of
Armenians and how its depiction had become a subject of fierce debate,
primarily between Armenians, who insisted on calling the events of
1915 a genocide, and Turks, who adamantly refused to countenance the
g-word. Essentially, this was a zero-sum game. Either one supported
the Armenian or the Turkish position, whether for historical or
political reasons, but neither side allowed room for compromise.
The basic Armenian argument was that up to 1.5 million Armenians were
deliberately targeted and massacred by the Ottoman Empire, eight years
before the modern Turkish Republic came into being. At the time, the
word genocide didn't exist. It was Raphael Lemkin, a Polish-born Jew,
who coined the term. The Holocaust was the most immediate frame of
reference for him, but he was also haunted by the slaughter of the
Armenians - and by the need to prevent a repeat of any such
occurrences - throughout his career. But had it been in use, it no
doubt would have been invoked by Ambassador Henry Morgenthau, the
U.S. envoy to Turkey at the time and one of the primary sources on the
tragedy cited by the Armenians.
No, replied the Turks. This was a time of war. The Armenians sided
with Russia, the enemy. Many people, both Turks and Armenians, were
killed, but that was the regrettable, if inevitable, consequence of
conflict, and not a deliberate campaign to wipe the Armenians off the
face of the earth, as the Nazis later sought to do to the Jews.
In recent years, of course, the survivors and eyewitnesses have
disappeared. But each side has marshaled as much documentary evidence
as it could to buttress its assertion. Yet neither side has been
talking to the other. Instead, both have been appealing to the rest of
the world, seeking supporters.
Not surprisingly, each has sought to draw the Jews to its ranks. The
Jews' moral voice, they reckoned, far exceeds actual numbers. The
people of the Shoah are best positioned to tip the scales in one
direction or the other.
The Armenian position has been straightforward. As victims of the
Holocaust, who can better understand the Armenian ordeal and anguish
than the Jews? Fearful of the danger of Holocaust denial, aren't the
Jews most aware of the slippery slope of distorting historical truth?
And wasn't it Adolf Hitler who reportedly asked, `Who still talks
nowadays of the extermination of the Armenians?' - in effect, paving
the way for the Final Solution?
Meanwhile, the Turkish stance has been that Jews shouldn't simply
accept the Armenian version of history lock, stock and barrel, as it's
fraught with distortion and deceit, but rather bear in mind the
traditional Turkish welcome of minority communities, especially the
embrace of dispersed Jews from Spain by the Ottoman Empire at the end
of the 15th century.
Moreover, Turkish leaders have also at times taken a tougher line,
suggesting, in barely veiled language, that a Jewish acceptance of the
Armenian version of history could have negative consequences for other
Jewish interests, whether in Turkey or beyond.
And it is in this vise that many Jews have lived for years,
essentially pitting principle against pragmatism. For armchair
observers, that may look like an easy choice, but, in the world of
policy, where actions can have real-life consequences, it's anything
but.
Look at successive governments of the United States, whether under
Democratic or Republican leaders. All have reached the same
conclusion: Turkey is of vital importance to U.S. geo-strategic
interests, straddling as it does two continents, Europe and Asia,
bordering key countries - from the former Soviet Union to Iran, Iraq
and Syria - and serving as the southeastern flank of NATO. Each
administration has essentially punted when asked about the Armenian
question, seeking to discourage the United States Congress from
recognizing the events of 1915 as genocide, while arguing that a
third-party parliamentary body isn't the right venue to settle a
heated historical dispute.
And now I come back full circle to my Johns Hopkins classroom. I had
four or five Turkish students in the course. All but one proudly
defended Turkey's historical record, stubbornly refusing to consider
any competing narrative. But there was one young woman who, on reading
the assigned material and much more, came to me and said that for the
first time she doubted the official Turkish version of events. There
were simply too many compelling accounts of the suffering of Armenians
to swallow whole the Turkish line. She then went a step further and
shared her thinking with our class. Regrettably, the other Turkish
students distanced themselves from her, but the other students admired
her for her courage. They instinctively understood that it wasn't easy
for her to express her sorrow and confusion, but that, under the
circumstances, it seemed the right thing to do. I, too, admired her.
I have a strong connection to Turkey, a country I have visited on
numerous occasions and to which I feel very close. Few countries have
a more critically important role to play in the sphere of
international relations. I remain grateful to this day for the refuge
that the Ottoman Empire gave to Jews fleeing the Inquisition. I am
intimately connected to the Turkish Jewish community and admire their
patriotism and enormous contribution to their homeland. I deeply
appreciate the link between Turkey and Israel, which serves the best
interests of both democratic nations in a tough region. And I value
Turkey's role as an anchor of NATO and friend of the United States.
At the same time, I cannot escape the events of 1915 and the
conclusions reached by credible voices, from Ambassador Morgenthau to
Harvard professor Samantha Power, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of
A Problem from Hell: American and the Age of Genocide, to the United
States Holocaust Memorial Museum, about the nature of what took place:
it was a genocide, they determined, albeit one that occurred more than
thirty years before the term was coined.
From my experience in tackling difficult relationships, I believe
that engagement, not avoidance, is the best strategy. In a perfect
world, Armenian and Turkish historians would sit together and review
the archival material, debate differences, and seek a common
understanding of the past. To date, that hasn't happened in any
meaningful way. I continue to hope that it will. It should. We at AJC
have offered our services, if needed, to help facilitate such an
encounter. Ninety years of distance ought to allow for the creation of
a `safe' space to consider contested issues.
Meanwhile, as the issue once again heats up in the United States, it's
important to be clear. In a book entitled Holocaust Denial, published
by the American Jewish Committee in 1993, the author, Kenneth Stern,
an AJC staff expert on the subject, noted: `That the Armenian genocide
is now considered a topic for debate, or as something to be discounted
as old history, does not bode well for those who would oppose
Holocaust denial.'
He was right. Picture a day when a muscle-flexing Iran or Saudi Arabia
seeks to make denial of the Holocaust a condition of doing business
with other countries. Sound far-fetched? It shouldn't.
We have many interests as a Jewish people. Protecting historical truth
ought to be right up there near the top of the list.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress