Turkey denies again
I was very sorry to read this article in the morning's LA Times: Turkish Court Cancels Meeting to Discuss Armenian Massacre.
A court Thursday ordered the cancellation of a conference where Turkish academics were expected to challenge the official version of the events surrounding the mass deaths among this nation's Armenians during and after World War I.
For almost a century, the Turkish government has denied that more than a million Armenians were victims of a systematic genocide between 1915-1922. But the wall of denial has shown recent signs of cracking. Famed Turkish novelist Orhan Pamuk is quoted by the Times as recently saying "1 million Armenians and 30,000 Kurds were killed in these lands but no one but me dares say so." For his candor, Pamuk was arrested and charged with "insulting Turkey's national dignity."
Turkish ultra-nationalists are unwilling to allow discussion of the Armenian Genocide, even when silencing that discussion seems very likely to threaten Turkey's case for admission to the European Union. It's a bit difficult, after all, to imagine admitting a country that jails authors for "insulting national dignity" into the same union that includes the great liberal and tolerant democracies of Western Europe. But even though a growing number of Turks seem eager to confront the past and openly discuss what was done to more than a million of their neighbors, powerful elements in the country are willing to jeopardize EU membership in order to maintain the fiction of national innocence.
I have a particular concern for this issue because I teach at Pasadena City College, where perhaps 20% of the student body is of Armenian descent. The larger Glendale-Pasadena area of Los Angeles has the largest concentration of Armenians in the Western Hemisphere, and they play a vital role in local politics and public life. Years ago, when I first began teaching my Modern Europe courses at PCC, I never mentioned the Armenian Genocide during my lectures on the First World War. One after another, semester after semester, Armenian-American students asked me to begin to cover it. At first I resisted, with the excuse that the tragedy didn't technically take place in Europe. But I began to read more and more material in response to their requests, and became convinced that for both moral and historical reasons, the narrative of what happened in 1915 had to be included.
True confession: what really pushed me "over the top" was something less laudatory: in early 1997, I briefly dated a young Armenian-American woman who asked if I ever taught the subject of the genocide in my classes. When I said "no", she lectured me over sushi for half an hour. Her charm and her passion helped push me along considerably! (This was before the moment, mind you, when she told me that our "relationship" wouldn't go anywhere because she could only be "serious" about an Armenian fellow.)
In the years since I began regularly including a segment on the Armenian Genocide (just as I include a segment on the Holocaust), I've had dozens of students come up to me and thank me, often with tears in their eyes, for giving legitimacy to a story they've heard over and over again from their parents and grandparents. I hear the same refrain each time: "We've never heard this from someone who wasn't Armenian. Thank you for noticing, thank you for recognizing that this is important enough to teach." I'll admit that the gratitude of these students is a considerable encouragement to continue to lecture on the subject, and it has spurred me to expand the amount of time I devote to it.
My father, a Viennese-born war refugee, has received several thousand dollars in compensation over the years from the Austrian government. Austria and Germany have each accepted responsibility for the destruction of so many millions of Jews. Compensation, however inadequate, has been paid; the truth has been acknowledged; profound remorse has been expressed. I know how important this is. That sense of remorse on the part of the government is one of the things that allows my family to have such generally warm feelings about Austria and Austrians, despite what happened in the 1930s and 40s. But my Armenian friends have received nothing from Turkey. No compensation, no remorse, no acknowledgment that what was done to their ancestors was real and inexcusable. I had hoped, especially after Pamuk's brave declaration, that Turkey might be ready to face the truth. I had hoped that if nothing else, the carrot of European integration might be sufficient cause to rethink the policy of denial that has characterized the Turkish response for generations. Yesterday's court decision suggests that I -- and others -- have been too optimistic.