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Commercialappeal.com , TN
Oct 14 2007
Bridging the Armenian-Turkish disconnect
By Zack McMillin
Sunday, October 14, 2007
When I read letters to the editor from those who are enraged that
Memphis in May has chosen Turkey as its honored country for 2008, I
think of Hrant Dink.
AP
On Oct. 1, protesters carrying a banner reading "We are all witness,
we want justice" massed near an Istanbul courthouse, as the trial of
suspects in the murder of ethnic Armenian journalist Hrant Dink
resumed.
When I hear that a group of Memphians wants to call U.S. Rep.
Steve Cohen a hypocrite for not supporting a House resolution that
would assert Turkey committed genocide against Armenians, I think of
a February afternoon in Istanbul.
On Halaskargazi, a broad boulevard on the European side of the
Bosporus, I stood with two dozen other journalists from around the
world outside an almost hidden entrance, one obscured by a security
door and squeezed between shops selling sunglasses and CDs.
We were waiting to enter the offices of Agos, the Armenian newspaper
where Hrant Dink had served as editor.
>From the CD shop drifted a melody from the Turkish song, "Sari Gelin
(Yellow and Bright)." This was Dink's favorite song, and it came upon
us that Dink had died at the place where we were now standing, gunned
down because, many people believe, a group of Turkish nationalists
thought that killing an outspoken Armenian would divide and
demoralize Turkey.
That it did not serves as a testament to the Turkish people. The
response to the tragedy embodies the spirit I discovered in the Turks
who became my friends while I spent eight months in 2006 and 2007 as
a Knight-Wallace Fellow at the University of Michigan.
The scene outside Agos the night of Dink's murder on Jan. 19
transformed from one of tragedy into one of hope. Thousands of Turks
descended upon the neighborhood and held a vigil to honor Dink, whose
brave stance on what Turks call the "Armenian question" provided an
example -- for fellow Turks, fellow Armenians and fellow journalists.
Ozge Erkut, who worked at CNN Turk, lives in the neighborhood and
recalled the tears she saw from so many.
"Lots of Muslims and lots of Jews were there, not just Armenians,"
she said. "Many of the people who were crying did not know him."
There is no denying that, in Turkey, there are people and groups
devoted to fomenting hate and intolerance. But, in the aftermath of
Dink's murder, the world saw what I had also discovered in my new
Turkish friends -- people with huge hearts, open minds and a desire
to engage with the world.
Some estimated that as many as 200,000 people followed Dink's family
and friends in the funeral procession through the streets and across
the bridges of the beautiful, ancient city. They held signs and
chanted, "We are all Hrant Dink."
In a memorial issue published by Agos, a cover mixed the image of a
smiling Hrant Dink with seabirds and the simple headline: "Umuda
uctu." To hope he flew.
Dink, 52, had drawn hate and death threats for challenging Turkey to
acknowledge that, whatever the complicated circumstances, there
remained little doubt that an Armenian genocide occurred during the
dissolution of the Ottoman Empire in World War I. Dink had also been
prosecuted for writings that the government asserted "denigrated
Turkishness," violating a law that ought to offend citizens of any
nation committed to secular progress.
Yet it is important to remember that Dink had also challenged
Armenians from around the world to abandon their own hatred and
intolerance.
"Do away with your fixation on hostility against Turks," he once
wrote. "This is a poison."
What Dink sought most, according to his friends and colleagues, was
to create dialogue and to open minds. When lawmakers in France
introduced a bill that would make it a crime to deny that Turkey
committed genocide against Armenians, Dink vowed to travel to France
and be among the first to break the law.
Such a law, he said, "will be hurting not only the European Union,
but Armenians across the world. It will also damage the normalizing
of relations between Armenia and Turkey. What the peoples of these
two countries need is dialogue, and all these laws do is harm such
dialogue."
Those we met who knew and loved Hrant Dink stressed his devotion to,
above all, investigations of truth -- not political declarations
exalting or condemning one side or the other of emotional,
complicated issues.
"We want discussion," one of his closest friends told us. "If you
push the importance of one word, genocide, it is no more discussion.
The important thing is the history, not the word."
It is shocking to learn from so many Turks that they were taught
nothing about the slaughter and dislocation of Armenians in World War
I. But it says much about the character of the many Turks I came to
know that they respond not with hate but with concern and a desire to
learn more.
Fatma Mge Gek, a native Turk and Michigan professor, wrote a eulogy
that emphasized her friend's ability "to overcome that
ever-consuming, destructive, dangerous anger -- and to fill himself
instead with so much love and hope for humanity."
As I think about politicians making resolutions about history, I
think of the conversation Gek had with Dink the year before a Turkish
nationalist succeeded in killing a man -- but failed to assassinate
hope.
"Keep the dialogue between the Armenian and Turkish scholars going,"
Dink told her over coffee in Ann Arbor in the spring of 2006. "That
is the most significant endeavor we have for the solution of this
problem, and no matter what happens, do not let things get
politicized."
http://www.commercialappe al.com/news/2007/oct/14/bridging-the-armenian-turk ish-disconnect/
Oct 14 2007
Bridging the Armenian-Turkish disconnect
By Zack McMillin
Sunday, October 14, 2007
When I read letters to the editor from those who are enraged that
Memphis in May has chosen Turkey as its honored country for 2008, I
think of Hrant Dink.
AP
On Oct. 1, protesters carrying a banner reading "We are all witness,
we want justice" massed near an Istanbul courthouse, as the trial of
suspects in the murder of ethnic Armenian journalist Hrant Dink
resumed.
When I hear that a group of Memphians wants to call U.S. Rep.
Steve Cohen a hypocrite for not supporting a House resolution that
would assert Turkey committed genocide against Armenians, I think of
a February afternoon in Istanbul.
On Halaskargazi, a broad boulevard on the European side of the
Bosporus, I stood with two dozen other journalists from around the
world outside an almost hidden entrance, one obscured by a security
door and squeezed between shops selling sunglasses and CDs.
We were waiting to enter the offices of Agos, the Armenian newspaper
where Hrant Dink had served as editor.
>From the CD shop drifted a melody from the Turkish song, "Sari Gelin
(Yellow and Bright)." This was Dink's favorite song, and it came upon
us that Dink had died at the place where we were now standing, gunned
down because, many people believe, a group of Turkish nationalists
thought that killing an outspoken Armenian would divide and
demoralize Turkey.
That it did not serves as a testament to the Turkish people. The
response to the tragedy embodies the spirit I discovered in the Turks
who became my friends while I spent eight months in 2006 and 2007 as
a Knight-Wallace Fellow at the University of Michigan.
The scene outside Agos the night of Dink's murder on Jan. 19
transformed from one of tragedy into one of hope. Thousands of Turks
descended upon the neighborhood and held a vigil to honor Dink, whose
brave stance on what Turks call the "Armenian question" provided an
example -- for fellow Turks, fellow Armenians and fellow journalists.
Ozge Erkut, who worked at CNN Turk, lives in the neighborhood and
recalled the tears she saw from so many.
"Lots of Muslims and lots of Jews were there, not just Armenians,"
she said. "Many of the people who were crying did not know him."
There is no denying that, in Turkey, there are people and groups
devoted to fomenting hate and intolerance. But, in the aftermath of
Dink's murder, the world saw what I had also discovered in my new
Turkish friends -- people with huge hearts, open minds and a desire
to engage with the world.
Some estimated that as many as 200,000 people followed Dink's family
and friends in the funeral procession through the streets and across
the bridges of the beautiful, ancient city. They held signs and
chanted, "We are all Hrant Dink."
In a memorial issue published by Agos, a cover mixed the image of a
smiling Hrant Dink with seabirds and the simple headline: "Umuda
uctu." To hope he flew.
Dink, 52, had drawn hate and death threats for challenging Turkey to
acknowledge that, whatever the complicated circumstances, there
remained little doubt that an Armenian genocide occurred during the
dissolution of the Ottoman Empire in World War I. Dink had also been
prosecuted for writings that the government asserted "denigrated
Turkishness," violating a law that ought to offend citizens of any
nation committed to secular progress.
Yet it is important to remember that Dink had also challenged
Armenians from around the world to abandon their own hatred and
intolerance.
"Do away with your fixation on hostility against Turks," he once
wrote. "This is a poison."
What Dink sought most, according to his friends and colleagues, was
to create dialogue and to open minds. When lawmakers in France
introduced a bill that would make it a crime to deny that Turkey
committed genocide against Armenians, Dink vowed to travel to France
and be among the first to break the law.
Such a law, he said, "will be hurting not only the European Union,
but Armenians across the world. It will also damage the normalizing
of relations between Armenia and Turkey. What the peoples of these
two countries need is dialogue, and all these laws do is harm such
dialogue."
Those we met who knew and loved Hrant Dink stressed his devotion to,
above all, investigations of truth -- not political declarations
exalting or condemning one side or the other of emotional,
complicated issues.
"We want discussion," one of his closest friends told us. "If you
push the importance of one word, genocide, it is no more discussion.
The important thing is the history, not the word."
It is shocking to learn from so many Turks that they were taught
nothing about the slaughter and dislocation of Armenians in World War
I. But it says much about the character of the many Turks I came to
know that they respond not with hate but with concern and a desire to
learn more.
Fatma Mge Gek, a native Turk and Michigan professor, wrote a eulogy
that emphasized her friend's ability "to overcome that
ever-consuming, destructive, dangerous anger -- and to fill himself
instead with so much love and hope for humanity."
As I think about politicians making resolutions about history, I
think of the conversation Gek had with Dink the year before a Turkish
nationalist succeeded in killing a man -- but failed to assassinate
hope.
"Keep the dialogue between the Armenian and Turkish scholars going,"
Dink told her over coffee in Ann Arbor in the spring of 2006. "That
is the most significant endeavor we have for the solution of this
problem, and no matter what happens, do not let things get
politicized."
http://www.commercialappe al.com/news/2007/oct/14/bridging-the-armenian-turk ish-disconnect/