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Gunaysu: Commemorating Genocide In A Post-Genocide Denialist Habitus

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  • Gunaysu: Commemorating Genocide In A Post-Genocide Denialist Habitus

    GUNAYSU: COMMEMORATING GENOCIDE IN A POST-GENOCIDE DENIALIST HABITUS

    http://www.armenianweekly.com/2013/10/02/gunaysu-commemorating-genocide-in-a-post-genocide-denialist-habitus/
    By Ayse Gunaysu // October 2, 2013

    Dilara Balc覺, in her book that gives a detailed account of how
    non-Muslims were represented in the Turkish film industry until the
    1980's, tells an anecdote that elucidates a great deal the environment
    in which Armenians, the descendants of genocide survivors, in Turkey
    led their lives.

    In 1979, the late Nubar Terziyan, one of the veteran actors in Turkish
    cinema, put an advertisement in several newspapers to express his
    condolences for the death of Ayhan Isik, another Turkish star famous
    for his good looks. The advertisement read: "Ayhan, my son, the world
    is ephemeral, death is the fate of us all, yet you will never die,
    because you will always live in our and in millions of others' hearts.

    This is a blessing for you. ... Your uncle, Nubar Terziyan." It was not
    long before the family of Ayhan I癬_覺k gave a counter-advertisement
    to the press, meant as a public announcement. It read: "An important
    correction: There is no connection whatsoever between the advertisement
    undersigned 'Your uncle, Nubar Terziyan' and our beloved Ayhan
    I癬_覺k. ... We regretfully announce as we see it necessary."

    (http://www.radikal.com.tr/hayat/rumlar_fahise_ermeniler_pansiyoncu_yahudiler_tucca r-1149673)

    As in many cultures, "son" is a term of endearment in Turkish,
    used by elders when addressing a beloved youngster. And "uncle"
    is its counterpart, used by a youngster in addressing a close and
    dear elderly person. Despite this very well-known fact, the slightest
    possibility that someone could take it seriously and think that Ayhan
    I癬_覺k indeed had a family relation with Terziyan terrified (and at
    the same time, infuriated) I癬_覺k's family to such an extent that
    the deep sentiment originally expressed was forgotten, and replaced
    with a public display of racism.

    'Geography of genocide and denial'

    Nubar Terziyan's humiliation and the I癬_覺k family's response
    were only one of the numerous daily manifestations of life in a
    "post-genocide denialist habitus," as Talin Suciyan calls it in
    her Ph.D.

    dissertation at the Ludwing Maximillians University in Munich. The
    thesis aims to "to write a post-genocide history of Armenian existence
    in Turkey that remained in the geography of genocide and denial: The
    crime continued to be reproduced by denial and victim and witness
    continued to live side by side along with the perpetrators. The
    testimony of both victim and witness was silenced and denied, and as
    the perfection of the crime proves, their memories, their testimonies
    were turned upside down."

    As Suciyan strikingly proves, based on primary Armenian sources,
    this was when those Armenian households that still remained after the
    genocide, dispersed throughout the various provinces in Asia Minor,
    were systematically removed from the region and concentrated in
    Istanbul where, it was thought, they could be more easily and directly
    controlled. They were doomed to lead their lives in an "ordinary,
    banal reality of the post-genocide denialist habitus," which is the
    "more invisible rumbling social and political context, the everyday
    realities." This habitus was the setting against which anti-Armenian
    policies, practices, and actions throughout the Republican era in
    Turkey took--and continue to take--place. This "defines the legal,
    cultural, social, and economic life of non-Muslims, in general,
    and the life of other ethnic and religious or political groups
    whose conflicts with the state remain unresolved," writes Suciyan,
    referring to the anti-Armenian campaigns that "have served to
    reproduce anti-Armenianism in the country, to keep the voices of
    the victims of genocide away for decades, and to silence those who
    remained in Turkey." She continues, "Calling Armenians to represent
    themselves in an anti-Armenian atmosphere not only meant to ignore the
    annihilation of their parents, but also to ignore the fact that they
    were the children of survivors themselves. Thus, Armenians in Turkey
    were expected to become parts of the denialist habitus by operating
    within the framework of the same habitus." Suciyan questions the
    relevance of the "minority-majority" formula used in defining the
    issue in Turkey: "It is not a matter of merely legal condition, but
    the denialist habitus that plays a decisive role, although not only
    in the production and generation of apparatuses of exclusion; it also
    constitutes a model of citizenship and, consequently, a social reality
    embodying an affective attachment to this denialist formation."1

    This "habitus" is diametrically opposed to the post-Holocaust social,
    cultural, and intellectual environment in Germany, where you cannot
    walk through the streets of Berlin, for instance, without being
    reminded of the Holocaust.

    Istanbul: scene of crime

    How, then, should a truly meaningful commemoration of genocide
    look like in such a habitus of denialism? In what ways should it be
    different from genocide commemorations held elsewhere in the world?

    Istanbul--where the Armenian Genocide has been commemorated indoors
    since 2005, and outdoors since 2010--was the capital of the Ottoman
    Empire, and the crime scene of the Armenian Genocide and the genocide
    of other Christian peoples of Anatolia. Now it is the biggest city and
    business center of the country, and it is still a crime scene--this
    time, of the denial of the genocide.

    Given the post-genocide denialist habitus, there is a categorical
    existential difference, indeed contrast, between the Armenians and
    Sunni Muslims in Turkey. We, a handful of people organizing these
    commemorations, are the members of the perpetrator group, no matter how
    conscientious, righteous, or even courageous we feel. The existential
    difference can never be erased even by the most selfless efforts we,
    Turks and Kurds, make against denial, with the best intentions and
    cleanest conscience. We do what we choose of our own free will and
    by conscious choice; and the moment we cease to do what we do now, we
    will be safe. But the families in Samatya, in Ferik繹y, and in other
    quarters of Istanbul, where the diminishing Armenian population is
    concentrated--regardless of their political stance, what they choose,
    what they do--are under constant threat just because of their names,
    because of what is written on their birth certificate, because of
    what they are. They are under constant bombardment of ugly denialism
    radiating from all sorts of media, and are exposed to hate speech
    showeredfrom TV channels, the internet, even their neighbors and the
    taxi driver (as in the case last year when an Armenian woman was beaten
    by a taxi driver in Istanbul, just because she was Armenian). The
    existential reality of Armenians in Turkey is well described by Ayda
    Erbal in her article, "We are all oxymorons!" which she wrote after
    the assassination of Hrant Dink: "Either you chose to stay relevant
    and become politically involved and risk getting killed because of
    your involvement, or you choose to be reduced to total irrelevancy
    in another country--which is, of course, a subtle way of being
    killed. Especially if you are an intellectual, journalist, artist,
    or writer, this second version of being killed over and over again
    during all those years of undoing and redoing yourself in different,
    strange, and sometimes hostile cultures, is the only thing that you
    share with the other lucky (!) Armenians from around the world. Your
    ability to survive in partial-death situations connects you to your
    fellow Armenians, especially if they are from the Middle East."2

    Recognition starts on the personal level

    There is currently an ongoing debate, within a rather closed circle
    of people who are involved in the so-called "Armenian Question," if
    ordinary Turks and Kurds today should feel guilty over the genocide
    and shame for being a member of the perpetrator group. It is argued
    that one cannot be accused and considered guilty of what his/her
    ancestors have done.

    But is personally committing a crime a prerequisite to feeling guilty?

    Are we only responsible for those actions we carry out ourselves,
    especially if it is not an isolated case of murder but a genocide,
    if it is a crime against humanity with an immense, unimaginable scale
    of atrocities, irreparable losses, and repercussions that will be
    felt forever by the descendants of the victims, transmitted from
    generation to generation against the murderous setting of denialism?

    An enormous amount of wealth was plundered, and none of us can be
    sure whether or not there has been any ill-gotten property in our
    family history. Even if our families are thoroughly clean in this
    respect, we are the members of a group who reproduced, proliferated,
    and reinforced its dominance as a majority in the absence of the
    Armenians and other Christian peoples annihilated just for this
    purpose. In other words, we became, were made, the agencies that
    enabled the genocide to serve its purpose. The simple fact is that
    they were exterminated, and we are here to live and to prosper.

    Above all, the crime was and is still being committed in our name,
    and on our behalf, in the name of Islam and "Turkishness," which we
    have naturally, if not voluntarily, inherited, and which we--again,
    regardless of whether or not it is our own choice--enjoy the privileges
    of, as non-Armenians and non-Christians. In this way, we inevitably,
    many of us unintentionally, contribute to this post-genocide denialist
    habitus. Recognition of the genocide, then, should first begin on a
    personal level on the part of the members of the perpetrator group,
    by willingly bearing the responsibility and feeling the shame of the
    crime committed in the name of the ethnic and religious identity we
    are attached to, and for the good of the system we are a part of.

    A multi-layered responsibility

    As for the Turkish left, especially those who lead the efforts
    for genocide recognition and commemoration, we bear a specific
    responsibility. Until recently (in historical terms), we--very
    self-confident in our progressive role, the vanguard of the
    revolutionary forces--started the history of socialism in this country
    in the 1920's with the founding of the Communist Party of Turkey,
    comprised of Turkish intellectuals, who were completely unaware of the
    earlier Dashnaktsutiun and Hnchak Party legacy, as well as the Greek
    and Jewish labor movements. We were internationalists, in solidarity
    with the oppressed masses of Latin America, Africa, and the Far East,
    but unaware of the "zone of genocide" we were living in the middle
    of, unable to see the oppression of the non-Muslim neighbors and
    Kurds (along with Alevis) under our nose. We were anti-racist, but
    racism was far away from us--in the United States, in South Africa,
    and elsewhere in the world. We were totally blind to the very racist
    environment we were living in. Denial of the genocide, hate speech
    directed against Armenians and non-Muslims, in general, discrimination,
    portraying non-Muslims as potential traitors, these were all around us,
    and yet we didn't see it for many decades. In this way, we contributed
    to the denialist habitus. Many Turkish intellectuals refer to the
    "hundreds of thousands of people marching at Hrant Dink's funeral" with
    a visible note of pride. Hrant Dink had to be assassinated for those
    hundreds of thousands to wake up from their long sleep and stand up.

    As the ones who have undertaken the responsibility to commemorate
    the genocide, our responsibility is further multi-layered and
    multi-dimensional.

    Given the unique circumstances in Turkey, both on the part of the
    descendants of the victims and the perpetrators, extra and deliberate
    attention and sensitivity should mark our efforts in Turkey--if,
    that is, we truly aim to accomplish a meaningful commemoration of
    the Armenian Genocide on the scene of crime.

    There are several important prerequisites for this. First, what
    is crucial is that Armenians in Turkey as a community, under the
    above-mentioned existential circumstances, have never been able to
    collectively commemorate, throughout the decades of denialist habitus,
    their own dead. They have been and are still deprived of the most
    essential right to pay homage to and pray for their victim ancestors
    on April 24of each year. In this sense, the commemorations that were
    organized over the past several years were not "their" commemorations.

    They only took part individually as "participants." The fact that
    Turkish human rights activists and anti-racists were the ones who
    started these events is, in itself, another manifestation of the
    denialist habitus. How and under what conditions the Armenians in
    Turkey are allowed to lead their lives in this denialist country
    should be one of the fundamental concerns while developing the manner
    and the content of the commemorations.

    Secondly, the organizers should keep in mind the deep existential gap
    that exists between the two sides when deciding on how to commemorate.

    The two sides involved, the Armenians and Turks/Kurds, are not and
    should not be conceived or presented as equals, and they should not
    be called on to form a united body of commemorators, to embrace each
    other as a step towards so-called "reconciliation."

    A true genocide commemoration is not an "event," a "demonstration," or
    a "political protest" that gives us, the offspring of the perpetrators,
    the opportunity to feel a certain kind of fulfillment or catharsis,
    or to be satisfied for performing our "duty". The duty will never
    be fulfilled, as genocide is something irreversible, irreparable,
    unrecoverable, and unforgivable. The commemoration can also not be
    conceived as a reunion, a mutual embracing of Turks and Armenians,
    a display of the so-called "sharing of pain and suffering" that
    would lead to a sort of reconciliation. Because it is not one and the
    same--it is the Armenians' pain and suffering, and the Turks/Kurds'
    shame and responsibility, on the part of the Muslim peoples of
    Anatolia, the descendants of the perpetrators.

    Therefore a true commemoration of the genocide victims has to lay the
    ground for Armenians, andonly the Armenians, to commemorate their
    dead, the unburied, the graveless souls still in agony in the face
    of denialism. And we, the Muslim peoples of Turkey, have no right to
    "commemorate," and should only express our responsibility in the
    ongoing denial and heavy burden of shame for being a member of the
    perpetrator group.

    Notes

    [1] Talin Suciyan, "Surviving the Ordinary: the Armenians in Turkey,
    1930's to 1950," unpublished doctor of philosophy thesis at LMU
    Institute of Near and Middle Eastern Studies, 2003.

    2 Ayda Erbal, "We are all Oxymorons,"
    Armenian Weekly Special Issue, 2008 and
    onhttp://azadalik.wordpress.com/2013/01/21/we-are-all-oxymorons,
    accessed on Sept. 24, 2013.




    From: A. Papazian
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