Secular and Islamic Politics in Turkey: The Making of the Justice and Development Party

Secular and Islamic Politics in Turkey

Turkey is 99% Muslim, its ruling party, Justice and Development Party (JDP), comes from but denies its Islamist pedigree and has a very secular feel. However, the deeply secular regime distrusts the JDP with regard to its ‘true’ colours. This book tries to make sense of these paradoxical perceptions which have characterized Turkey’s politics since the JDP came to power in 2002. The key momentum for shaping the nature and trajectories of the ruling party of Turkey since 2002, the JDP, has been the ‘identity’ question. The JDP’s commitment to transform Turkey’s politics was part of its engagement to remake its own identity. The JDP’s adoption of a conservative-democrat identity has rested on a new understanding of Westernization, secularism, democracy and the role and relevance of Islam in politics. The book’s central problem is to explain both the politics of change the JDP initiated and sustained in the first three years in office and the politics of retreat it has made from its reformist agenda since 2005. The book analyzes not just the catalysts for its reformist agenda of the first three years but tries to explain its reversal to an inward-looking conservative nationalist attitude. By approaching this topical ¨ mit debate from the conceptual stance rather than a party-centered approach, U Cizre identifies that the change the JDP has initiated within Turkey’s political Islam and in Turkish politics is the product of an interactive process between many levels, actors, forces and historical periods. The forces and actors covered include:    

global forces of Islam; the secular establishment and its popular extensions; the past and present Islamic actors in political and non-political spheres; the changing balance of forces in the region which frame the EU and the US policies toward the JDP.

Secular and Islamic Politics in Turkey is a valuable contribution to the study of globalization and ‘change’ in contemporary political Islam, the relationship between religion and politics, and secularism and political Islam. As such, it will be of interest to students and researchers alike in the area of Islamic politics, democratization, European Union and political Islam, and globalization. ¨ mit Cizre is a Professor at the Bilkent University, in Bilkent, Ankara, Turkey. She U is a former Fulbright Research Scholar at Princeton University and Jean Monnet Research Fellow at the Robert Schuman Center for Advanced Studies, European University Institute, Florence, Italy.

Routledge Studies in Middle Eastern Politics

1 Algeria in Transition Reforms and development prospects Ahmed Aghrout with Redha M. Bougherira 2 Palestinian Refugee Repatriation Global perspectives Edited by Michael Dumper 3 The International Politics of the Persian Gulf A cultural genealogy Arshin Adib-Moghaddam 4 Israeli Politics and the First Palestinian Intifada Political opportunities, framing processes and contentious politics Eitan Y. Alimi 5 Democratization in Morocco The political elite and struggles for power in the post-independence state Lise Storm 6 Secular and Islamic Politics in Turkey The making of the Justice and Development Party ¨ mit Cizre U

Secular and Islamic Politics in Turkey The making of the Justice and Development Party

¨ mit Cizre U

First published 2008 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2008. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.”

¨ mit Cizre, selection and editorial # 2008 U matter; the contributors, their chapters All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Secular and islamic politics in Turkey : the making of the Justice and Development Party / [edited by] E´mit Cizre. p. cm. – (Routledge studies in Middle Eastern politics ; 6) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. AK Parti (Turkey) 2. Islam and politics–Turkey. I. Cizre, E´mit. JQ1809.A8A46 2008 324.2561’03–dc22 2007022544 ISBN 0-203-93733-3 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN13: 978–0–415–39645–5 (hbk) ISBN13: 978–0–203–93733–4 (ebk)

Contents

Introduction: The Justice and Development Party: Making choices, revisions and reversals interactively

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PART I Historical evolution and the interactive making of the Justice and Development Party 1

The specific evolution of contemporary political Islam in Turkey and its ‘difference’

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MENDERES C ¸ INAR AND BURHANETTIN DURAN

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Problematizing the intellectual and political vestiges: From ‘welfare’ to ‘justice and development’

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AHMET YILDIZ

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The emergence of Turkey’s contemporary ‘Muslim Democrats’

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KENAN C ¸ AYIR

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The Justice and Development Party’s ‘new politics’: Steering toward conservative democracy, a revised Islamic agenda or management of new crises?

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BURHANETTIN DURAN

PART II Secular establishment and the Justice and Development Party 5

The Justice and Development Party and the Kemalist establishment MENDERES C ¸ INAR

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The Justice and Development Party and the military: Recreating the past after reforming it?

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PART III European union dimension 7

The Justice and Development Party and the european union: from euro-skepticism to euro-enthusiasm and euro-fatigue

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ALI RESUL USUL

PART IV Empirical data and the Justice and Development Party

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The social bases of the Justice and Development Party

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Conclusion

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. IBRAHIM DALMIS AND ERTAN AYDIN

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Index

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Introduction The Justice and Development Party: making choices, revisions and reversals interactively ¨ mit Cizre U

At a point when the threat of Islamic terrorism is widely perceived as having thrown Transatlantic security at risk, a remarkable development took place in Turkey in 2002: a pragmatic-conservative and Islam-sensitive party—the Justice and Development Party, henceforth JDP—came to power by elections and ‘‘propelled Turkey into an open-ended path of European style normalization’’ (Belge 2004: 5) to converge with the European Union (EU) standards in almost all walks of life. Operating within the parameters of a strict secular state system and through a series of reforms in civil-military relations, the judiciary, parliamentary procedure, minority rights, national security, macroeconomic management and the public sector, the JDP government endeavored to improve political and economic life with the EU accession process in mind. While the JDP’s policies reinvigorated the political system, they also posed a strategic dilemma to the existing secular power elite. The decisive factor in setting in motion these changes was not just the ‘articulation’ of the ‘democratic reformist’ character of the ruling party with its ‘Islamist’ pedigree. In part, it was the priority the JDP placed on reducing the power of traditional centers of power, spearheaded by the military. Translated into political language, the ruling party’s plan of action seemed to move from maintaining traditional security concerns, which revolved around protecting the interests of a sanctified state as the centerpiece of Turkish politics. It was this unusual combination of the Islamfriendly character of the JDP with a ‘genuine-sounding democracy program’ which was anathema to the secular power-wielders of the Republic. Historical dialectics between the Turkish state and Islamist platforms have relevance in this perception of the party by the secular state elite: the depiction of Islam as ‘the other’ or as the symbol of ‘non-modern orientalness’ has always constituted the essential substance of the secular state’s legitimacy itself. Against this history, seeds of a potential conflict between the establishment and the JDP were already sown from day one. The extent to which the government ‘disturbed’ ‘‘the seemingly unassailable balance of forces’’ (Belge 2004: 5) is evidenced by the way the latter elements organized the most relentless and polarizing secular campaign in Republican history against the JDP. The question this campaign has raised is whether the insecurity and distrust of Turkey’s secularists derive from the Turkish

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Armed Forces’ (TAF) genuine concerns about the Islamization policies of the ruling party rooted in an anti-secular past; or from its fears that the EU-inspired reforms would transfer political power to the elected civilians. The government’s reform packages, started in November 2002, have:  expanded freedom of expression;  abolished anti-terrorism provisions that authorized punishment for verbal propaganda against the unity of state;  abolished the death penalty;  established retrial rights for citizens whose court decisions are overthrown by the European Court of Human Rights;  allowed education and broadcasting in the Kurdish language; and  ended the intransigence of Turkish foreign policy towards the Cyprus question. According to the European Parliament, those reforms were ‘‘courageous . . . and revolutionary’’ (EP 2003: 5) and signify a ‘‘strong motivation and political will’’ (ibid: 6) to converge with the EU’s standards and practices. The sheer volume and speed of the reforms, as well as the consensus of support behind them, helped change the popular perception of the civilian government as under-achieving, unstable and corrupt. However, the ‘good’ reform record of the ruling party did not follow a consistent discourse and course. There has been a bleak side to the party’s performance on many levels since 2005. The government’s ‘regressive’ record can best be seen in its loss of ability to provide a democratic reform purpose and direction, which includes robust reforms to harmonize with the ‘best practices’ of the EU on civilmilitary relations, education and public administration, and the authority of unelected state institutions, including the president, and the supreme judicial bodies. Democratizing Turkey’s party system, intra-party workings, and election laws and brokering a democratic peace in the southeast were also part of the expectations from the party’s reform agenda. A central question of this volume is to seek explanations to the JDP’s loss of potential to transform the macro parameters of Turkey’s politics that would enable the system to move toward a new era of more democracy and better opportunities. On another level, although met with some understanding, the JDP’s politics have created problems for the party faithful as well. Some regard the party’s new version of Islam-friendly new politics as having moved away from its ‘roots and habits’ towards ‘mundane vocations and expectations.’1 However, in this circle, there is a general recognition that this represents the politics of adapting to adversity rather than a total abandonment of political changes that are expected from an Islam-friendly party. Granted that there are strong correlations between international/regional changes and domestic developments in the aftermath of the September 11

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attacks, what is the key momentum for reshaping the nature and trajectories of the evolution of the JDP government? This volume suggests that it is the ‘identity’ question: the commitment to transform Turkey’s political landscape was also part of an engagement to transform the identity of the party. Refusing to identify the party as ‘Muslim Democrat’ but instead opting for a conservative-democrat identity was predicated on the model of Turkey’s center-right platforms. The leadership set a profile loyal to the central values of the Republic as well as to those of Western democracy. For their part, the makers of the party aimed at broader-based support than they would have had if they had presented the party as the descendant of the National Outlook Movement (NOM). Therefore, one key objective of this volume is to analyze the catalysts, both internal and external, that have interacted to propel and encourage the JDP government to pursue a path breaking reform agenda, which simultaneously rests on a new understanding of the role and relevance of Islam, Westernization, democracy and secularism. Unravelling the process of change that has taken place under the Islamsympathetic JDP government unearths a subset of related questions: How was the ruling party able to cope with the historical tension with the politically active and powerful secular establishment and the military to restore some sense of well-being to a nation which seemed to have completely lost it in the previous decade? In particular, the analysis asks whether the secular establishment’s position on the reform process has been shaped entirely by its suspicions about the hidden Islamic intentions of the party or by the fact that democratic reforms would weaken its own power positions and influence in Turkey’s politics. Against this background, a very broad objective of this volume is to show that neither the genesis of an Islam-friendly political party, nor the ideological orientation of the institutions of an establishment that is opposed to it, necessarily determines their subsequent patterns of action. This volume goes beyond the strong emphasis made in literature on the reproductive features and functions of political Islam. Instead, it dwells on contradictions and inconsistencies in Islamic identity and its interactive formation as the major sources of its creativity and strength. The volume also shows that circumstances inside and outside the country have created a state of affairs in which the choices available to the firmly secular establishment and pedigree-denying JDP government have been neither monolithic nor uni-dimensional. Rather, policies have shifted between confrontation, acceptance of some curtailment of one’s power, establishing some points of contact, and confrontation avoidance and yet embark on ‘fresh’ directions and alignments.

Catalysts and Thresholds of the JDP’s Democratic Reform Agenda It is widely thought that the JDP’s rise to power is a product of the structural disintegration of dominant power relations and paradigms in Turkey. In other words, the 2002 elections made clear the rejection by vast sectors of the population of the existing political framework and political inertia. In

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contrast, the 2001-born JDP’s focus on the accession to the EU has helped to transform the negative inertia of the 1990s into a positive discourse relevant for effective governance. The project of pulling the country towards European norms and standards of democracy shone against the abysmal failure of Turkish politics in the last decade to go beyond being an appendix to neo-liberal market reforms. This is not to deny that the JDP’s ‘change’/ reform mandate also relied on the practical need to ease the economy, which, in February 2001, was reeling from the effects of the gravest slump it had met in the country’s history. Any appraisal of the ruling party’s strategic attempts to contain, challenge, undermine or cooperate with the secular establishment needs to trace the origins to the power struggle between the two sides, especially since the last military intervention into politics in 1997. It was only ten years ago, after its historic meeting on February 28, 1997, that Turkey went through another military intervention without the military actually having to take power directly. The military-dominated National Security Council (NSC) issued a list of measures to the coalition government led by the Islamist Welfare Party to eliminate the ‘creeping Islamization,’ which finally led to the resignation of the government, closure of the party by the Constitutional Court and the banning of its key policymakers from active politics. The military and civilian protagonists of the 1997 intervention saw the roots of the crisis in the ‘irresponsible’ use of Islam for partisan purposes by the political class. Therefore, since then, they have attempted to marginalize the forces of political Islam by manipulating the technical rules of the game, disciplining representative institutions, and strengthening the state-protecting and control-directed national security policies in the public. While the secular Republican forces were locked into securitizing political life, civilian energy was spent on political opportunism and the mechanics of staying in power, which involved not upsetting the status quo. The JDP’s agenda for transformation of the Turkish political system coincided with a shift in the Islamist discourse toward universal values of democracy, human rights and rule of law in many parts of the world. This reappraisal was translated in the Turkish case into coming to terms with Turkey’s time-tested Westernization process. The JDP leadership promoted Turkish inclusion into the EU not just as a strategy of reordering the party’s ideological priorities but also as a realistic acknowledgement of the historical roadmap of Turkey. A critical lesson the JDP drew from the failed decade of the 1990s was a discursive denial of its Islamist pedigree and adoption of a moderate and non-religious discourse in its place. To be able to realize such changes in the identity and agenda of the party was the product of a harsh learning curve. As a party of reformists splintered from the traditionalists in the Virtue Party, the successor party of the WP, the JDP came to the point of accepting that repudiating the WP legacy was not a constraint on its chances of survival, but a prerequisite for renewal. Burhanettin Duran’s and Menderes C ¸ ınar’s co-authored articles and Burhanettin

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Duran’s contribution in this volume name pragmatism as the perennial element in Turkey’s political Islam, which ‘‘has grown out of the local government experiences of its leadership cadre’’ (Duran, p. 83) and ‘‘has been strengthened by the JDP’s new discourse on conservative democracy’’ (C ¸ ınar and Duran, p. 32). Indeed, this pragmatism of the party replaced the ‘essentialist and dogmatic’ aspects of the WP’s discourse, which squandered resources, opportunities and hopes that could be used to encourage the already rising Anatolian bourgeoisie with a distinct Muslim character. Moreover, the JDP concluded from the history of the WP that, although since the 1997 intervention the establishment had tried to engineer the creation of a stable centrist government, it had failed abysmally. This was primarily because in promoting secularism, it had relied on a policy that used ‘negative symbols of legitimacy’ in openly undermining Islamist politics and politicians. Kenan C ¸ ayir’s article in this volume suggests that this negative stigmatization and ‘‘shrinkage of opportunity spaces for the Islamic actors, however, . . . led to a reflexive and self-critical attitude rather than to the strengthening of a radical stance in both the WP circles and wider Islamic groups.’’ (C ¸ ayir, p. 72). In terms of its conceptions of democracy and modernity, the JDP is considered to be the ‘‘product of the emergence of self-critical voices in Islamic circles in the last two decades,’’ which are distinct from the earlier ‘‘‘collective Islamism’ of the 1970s and 80s’’ (C ¸ ayir, p. 64). This is equal to a transformation from an ‘Islamist’ to a ‘Muslim’ subjectivity (ibid). It would not be wrong to characterize the emerging engagement with the EU as ‘reflexive modernity/action’ in terms of representing a shift/transition (Beck 1994: 6) from the conventional understanding of modernization to a risk society where people are ‘‘expected to live with a broad variety of different, mutually contradictory, global and personal risks’’ (ibid: 7). The JDP’s search for a new path to modernity is an interactively achieved process of ‘self-confrontation’ (ibid: 6), and ‘selfcriticism’ (ibid: 11) over the problems, risks and threats this new phase of modernity and its Kemalist state version would introduce. Another global trend the JDP leadership took up was the personalization of politics. With the decline of the ideological functions of political parties, leaders with strong personalities became the main source of appeal to voters during the 1990s. In Erdogan’s case, he was the leader ‘‘who went from a jail cell to leadership of his country in less than four years’’ (Kinzer 2004: 5). He cultivated the image of himself as a man of the people by emphasizing his poor background and addressing people directly rather than using organizational channels. Rhetorically, he stressed how the average voter had been short-changed by the populist policies of his predecessors. Thus, the JDP helped to replace politics of aloof institutions with politics of the heart. A religious conservative, democratic, reformist and pro-European identity gave the party two windows of opportunity: first, in the wake of the disenchantment that characterized the 1990s, the flagship project of EU

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accession introduced a ‘point of contact’ with the Kemalist Republican ideal of building a new Turkey on the model of the West almost from the ‘bottom-up.’ On the other hand, although abandoning explicitly Islamist politics, by characterizing itself as ‘conservative,’ the JDP left its ideological transformation usefully ambiguous: ‘‘the departure of the JDP from its National Outlook Movement heritage does not necessarily mean that it cuts its ties with the Islamic movement in Turkey’’ (Duran, p. 85). By keeping ‘‘some affinity with the Islamist ontology,’’ (ibid, p. 85) the party can reassure its religious and Islamist constituency if need be. To look at it from a different perspective, it is also possible to claim that while the Islamic roots of the JDP enabled it to evoke conservative themes of continuity and therefore certainty in Turkish politics, such as an almost metaphysical respect for the state and the importance of the role of Islam in party identity and policies, the project of integration with Europe endeared the party to sectors of the population waiting for genuine change. In his contribution to the volume, Ahmet Yıldız develops the thesis that ‘conservative democracy’ definitely pulls the party to the center-right of Turkish politics of the Democrat Party (1945–60), Justice Party (1961–80) and Motherland Party (1981–) genre (Yıldız, p. 42). However, the ideological discourse of the party still carries the vestiges of the NOM, although it is updated and revised under the current perspective of Muslim democrats (Yıldız, p. 45). Aydın and Dalmıs in their article provide empirical evidence for the existence of two dynamics operating in opposite directions in the ongoing identity making process of the party. Although the JDP follows the model of the modernist Motherland Party of the 1980s rather than its Islamist predecessors, the dominance of those groups who belonged to the National Outlook Movement in the past seem to steer the party in a more conservative direction (Aydın and Dalmıs, p. 221). Regarding this issue, Ahmet Yıldız’s interesting conclusion about the nature of change in the party’s identity is that ‘‘this dual habitus of the JDP is an indication of the fact that Turkey’s center-right, with its religious, liberal and conservative components, has found itself a new watercourse. This has contributed significantly to the marginalization of traditional religious movements and groupings of National Order Movement and other center-right parties’’ (Yıldız, p. 42). The JDP’s adoption of a new discourse was based on the interactivity of multiple actors, forces and historical periods. Kenan C ¸ ayır’s article in this volume highlights this fact by referring to the Islamic actors rethinking, revisiting and reassessing their position regarding fundamental issues and practices in interaction with secular and modernist groups, which are not just confined to political but to non-political spheres in the context of the last 30 years of Turkey (C ¸ ayir, p. 64). Furthermore, in trying to understand the JDP government’s shifting positions and policies on the political role of ¨ mit Cizre considers it essential to factor in organized the Turkish military, U interests and popular sentiments as well as the strategic environment in the aftermath of September 11, in terms of the impact of changing regional

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and international power balances (Cizre, pp. 144–45). In the latter group of variables, the most significant of all is the changing logic that frames the EU’s policies with regard to Turkish entry and the USA’s policy towards Turkey within the context of post-9/11 strategic priorities and the Iraq war (ibid). The JDP’s transformative politics of the first three years would not have been possible if the JDP’s and Turkey’s international salience had not undergone a fundamental change from ‘where’ Turkey is located to ‘what’ Turkey’s identity is.2 During the Cold War, Turkey’s importance for the West was measured by its location as a ‘front’ country against the communist threat. That necessitated an assessment of its military strength. However, after September 11, its political identity as a Muslim and democratic country respectful of human rights and the rule of law increased its security value for the West. Turkey seemed to be the living example that the Islamic world and European democracies do not have to be in conflict but can form relationships on the bases of cooperation, shared understanding and tolerance. That the Turkish regime seems to combine both of these worlds provided some help to the Euro-Atlantic alliance in exerting some influence in the region. From the security interests of the Western alliance, the regime’s identity now included three elements: first, its secular character; second, its strong military power3 as the strategic means to counter the Islamic threat; and third, the Islamic credentials of the party in power. The endearing character of the JDP government as perceived by the transatlantic partnership and the JDP’s single-minded dedication to the EU become relevant at this point. In the prevailing moral sensibility that characterized international politics after 9/11, none of the components of this picture was considered incompatible—i.e., no tension was foreseen between a strong military and democracy. Thus, the JDP government did not have to try hard to ingratiate itself with the West; the strategic change in the region did that for the ruling party. However, the TAF obviously considered the JDP’s accession to power as confirmation of its belief that Islamic reactionism is a substantial security threat to the regime. The factors that enhance the ruling party’s bridgemodel value in the eyes of the West could not offer much solace to the Turkish secular establishment. On the contrary, it has caused a further rift between the military establishment and the president of the Republic and the JDP government (Hill and Taspinar 2006: 90). While the JDP’s value as a model lies in the fact that it ‘‘combines secularism within a Muslim social and cultural environment to offer a good example for other countries in the region,’’ (EC 2004: 11) the military high command, for instance, has rejected the inclusion of any reference to Turkey’s ‘Islamic’ character in any portrayal of Turkey as bridging West and East or nominating the region as a ‘model.’ Central to the establishment’s view is the unequivocal rejection of juxtaposing Islam and secularism.4 President Sezer, on the other hand, is

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also reported to have expressed on several occasions his disdain about the use of Turkey as a model for ‘moderate Islam.’5 Instead, he has reiterated the establishment’s position that if the international community is determined to show Turkey as an example for the region to follow, she can only be an example by its secular and—automatically linked—democratic features (Turkishpress 2005). Ironically, although Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the prime minister, subscribes fully to the bridge metaphor, he agrees with the military leaders’ conviction on the meaninglessness of the emphasis on ‘moderate’ Islam. For him, any division between radical and moderate wings within Islam is redundant as Islam is unitarian in nature. He therefore affirms the necessity for secularism in order to ensure the state’s neutrality between Muslims and non-Muslims (Milliyet 2004b). It is precisely this understanding of secularism which underlines the prime minister’s pro-EU rhetoric. This volume underlines the point that although the JDP meant different things to the international community and the regime at different times, in general, it has benefited from the global reshaping of the world after the Cold War and 9/11. It has made a momentous policy score by receiving the green light from the EU in December 2004 to start accession talks. Moreover, in the new strategic environment, international sympathy and support for the Islam-friendly government on the basis that it serves as a geopolitical ‘Muslim democratic model’ in the region has undermined the ability of the forces of the status quo, especially that of the high command to challenge the government. Most of all, the JDP’s commitment to the EU by taking over the TAF’s ‘vanguard’ role—of propelling change in a Western direction—has caused embarrassment for the TAF. As the EU membership was supposed to be the intended endpoint of the Republic’s mission of generating sufficient modernization to eliminate the Islamist threat, the party’s appropriation of the military’s vanguard mission has also produced moderation on the part of the high command on the EU issue, despite the initial resistance.

Limits to the Transformative Politics of the JDP The secular establishment’s strategy toward the JDP’s agenda of a change of identity-cum-reform is shaped entirely by its suspicions about the party’s hidden Islamic intentions. Perceiving the JDP as ‘reformist/Western in form, Islamist in content,’ the modern/secular elements’ belief in the ‘hidden agenda’ of the JDP is based on what Ahmet Yıldız calls a form of wishful thinking that ‘‘National Outlook cannot change’’ because ‘‘it must not change, otherwise we will lose the present position that favours our vested interests’’ (Yıldız, p. 5). Both Kenan C ¸ ayir and Ahmet Yıldız agree that this is an ‘essentialist’ position, which is also reproduced by the founding leader of the National Outlook, Necmettin Erbakan, and other critics of the party within the NOM movement. These critics can only secure their political

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objectives when the JDP’s power and vestiges are eradicated from Turkey’s political landscape. Although defeated in the parliament with the government’s approval, introduction of adultery as a crime in the new Turkish Penal Code in 2004 and the granting of licenses to sell alcoholic beverages to the municipal and city-county councils in the same year have been cited as evidence of the government’s Islamist-motivated public policies. Equally important have been the ruling party’s retreats from taking steps to remove the ban on headscarves in universities and allowing the graduates of religious schools to enter into university entrance exams. The establishment’s position on the hidden agenda is non-negotiable. If the JDP captures an electorally and morally strong position in the eyes of the public as a legitimate and accepted part of politics, in all likelihood, it will exacerbate the tensions between the guardians of the military and itself and cause an intervention of some modality. Winning in this sense will mean losing the political power the party strives for absolutely. An important strand of criticism shared within the JDP-critical secular sectors is its doling out of benefits to supporters as business contracts or jobs in return for loyalty. But this is an endemic feature of Turkey’s politics common to all political formations stemming from the insecurities of the civilian political system. Faced with a strong model of military guardianship, the political class constantly considers the trade-offs between democratization strategies that would damage the existing political role of the military and the political risks of a military intervention in any modality. It is more than likely that the civilian political class will not choose reforms that will terminate the conditions of military prominence in politics. The result is that the doling out of benefits is part of the system of paying and receiving political payoffs from the rent-seeking networks as a short, rather than long-term activity. The political class, therefore, finds it more worthwhile to guard itself against the military’s interventionist potential by building up a power base for itself while in power. Menderes Cinar’s article in this volume characterizes the JDP’s scramble for power as ‘‘community-creating and personalizing politics’’ (C ¸ ınar, p. 126) and explains the dynamics behind this push as being the need to enlarge domains of control and influence, especially after the fading out of the flagship project of the EU. The JDP’s U-turn from the politics of change/reform coincided with mounting criticism from the EU about the weakened resolve of the government to go ahead with the reforms it had started. For instance, while the European Commission’s 2005 Enlargement Strategy Paper of November 2005 quite explicitly puts up a list of reforms still to be implemented, the EU’s Common Position Paper issued after the Turkey-EU Partnership Council meeting in June 2006, maintains that progress has been made but the pace of change has slowed in Turkey in the last year. Therefore, the Strategy Paper recommends significant further efforts regarding the implementation of reforms in human rights; civil-military relations; security

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affairs; fundamental freedoms; torture and ill-treatment; non-violent expression of opinion; freedom of religion; cultural rights; protection of minorities; domestic violence and honor killings; and the normalization of relations between Turkey and EU members, including the Greek Cypriot government.6 Increasing reluctance in EU circles to go ahead with the accession talks planned to start on October 3, 2005 has produced an inward-looking conservative nationalist quagmire. However, there is also the fact that as the democratic restraints, which the struggle for the EU process exerted, were weakened, the conservative-nationalist instincts of the JDP seemed to reawaken. This is a clear manifestation of a malaise that afflicts Turkey’s political parties—any forward movement toward fuller and better democratic order is cut short and they stray toward far right political positions. Essentially, this is a product of the huge discrepancy between a stateloving and society-controlling political tradition which pervades the minds and memories of political actors, and establishing Western-style democracy not just in procedural norms of democracy but internalizing them as habits and responsibilities. The JDP’s articulation of democratic reforms ran counter to its penchant for traditional right-wing politics, which conceives power as basically ‘unaccountable,’ legitimized solely by elections. Moreover, the JDP shares with the conservative right-wing streak the partiality to the absolute authority of the leadership; distaste for politics of differences and disregard for fundamental freedoms and minority rights. The ruling party’s convergence with the language of a fetishized state and nation combined with the continuing primacy of state rather than human ‘security’ considerations regarding the Kurdish question have opened up a space for conservative nationalist reactions. The JDP government’s backslide into an undemocratic position to limit the freedom of expression was extremely unsettling for the liberal democrats. The party’s new stance was manifested in the amendments to the Anti-Terror Law and Article 301 of the Penal Law, which threatened freedom of expression and alienated Turkey’s liberal and pro-EU sectors, the business world, civil society, intellectuals and the media. The Semdinli Incident, in Duran’s words, ‘‘constituted the strictest litmus test for the JDP’s new politics regarding political/societal transformation and for the Kurdish question. This incident turned into a political crisis that the JDP failed to manage within the confines of its commitment to democratization’’ (Duran, p. 99). The JDP government missed the chance to prevent the politicization of the judiciary and allayed public suspicions that the Semdinli incident was a covert underground operation of the ‘deep state’ to prevent a peaceful political settlement in the region. Instead, it preached to both liberal democratic sectors and an Islam-sympathizing constituency ‘‘politics of patience’’ or a ‘‘strategy of patience for change’’ (Duran, p. 95).

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Collision of or Collusion between the Secular Establishment and the JDP? The government’s democracy packages, which were part of Turkey’s commitment to align its public policy and practices with the EU’s ‘good practices,’ necessarily placed it on a collision course with the traditional power centers. The courts have been at the forefront of the secular campaign to expose the JDP’s Islamic aspirations, warn the public about the possible consequences and adopt an exclusionary conception of ‘identity,’ sharpening up the existing political polarization. More significantly, the secular camp has successfully undermined the JDP government’s ability to provide a ‘respectable political discourse’ in the eyes of many sizeable sectors. The chapter in this book on the JDP and the military’s interaction since 2002 makes the point rather emphatically that the TAF retains a significant degree of influence in politics and has strong civilian allies to protect the officers’ vision of democracy, which rests on countering any ‘internal threats’ to the regime. Despite the progress made to align Turkey’s laws with the EU7 and despite the fact that accession negotiations were opened on October 3, 2005, both the 2005 and 2006 Progress Reports published by the EU Commission continue to note that the political influence of Turkey’s military exceeds that of the armed forces in European member states: since 2002, Turkey has made good progress in reforming CMRS . . . but the armed forces continue to exercise significant political influence . . . and Turkey should work towards greater accountability and transparency in the conduct of security affairs in line with member states’ ‘best practices’ (EC 2005) The latest Annual Report of November 8, 2006 notes that: overall, limited progress has been made in aligning civil-military relations with EU practices . . . the civilian authorities should fully exercise their supervisory functions in particular as regards the formulation of the national security strategy and its implementation, including with regard to relations with neighbouring countries (EC 2006: 8)

A unique set of conditions, however, had converged to override the existing role of the military through the landmark democracy package of August 2003. The package was designed to bring Turkey in line with the EU criteria and included major constitutional amendments designed to curb the powers of the NSC, considered to be Turkey’s ‘‘parallel government’’ (Lowry 2000:

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48), and convert it into an advisory body. At that time, broad support in Turkey for EU membership restricted the ability of the military officers to oppose a significant reduction of their power. However, it became clear that once the EU-driven democracy agenda had faltered, the military could pursue other options through its well-developed institutional channels to sustain its political influence and continue the imperatives of guarding the secular republic. Cizre’s contribution to this volume shows that the JDP’s initial success in drawing the NSC away from an executive role in politics was closely connected with the existence of a sufficient margin of comfort that the civilian authority derived from its reform performance. The JDP’s military policy has also backslidden from its earlier discourse, which combined a search for a consensus with the military while proactively extending civilian oversight over it. Since 2005, it has reverted to a policy of pure and simple confrontation avoidance in a power balance which greatly favored the military sector. The important point Cizre makes is that in the new balance of power between the civilians and military, the latter no longer passively exercises political power solely by taking advantage of legal and mental biases built into the political system. In the second phase, the armed forces are on the offensive, counterbalancing their partial loss of political influence by actively creating new instruments which can be used to perform the same functions (Cizre, p. 147) It is fair to deduce from its acquiescent strategy that the JDP attaches a higher premium to avoiding a possible threat of a coup from the military than on establishing democratic civil-military relations, which is a fundamental part of the post-Cold War concept of democratic governance of a society in general and of security agencies in particular. This reversal of policy by the JDP raises the question of whether the 2003 democratic alterations in the civil-military equation were motivated more by the mechanical preconditions for further alignment with the EU than a democratic discourse that originated from the party itself. Indeed, the party leadership tends to challenge the military’s political prerogatives more because it undermines electoral democracy than from its concern to establish a system of democratic governance over the military. In the meantime, senior officers regard the increased political autonomy of the TAF as being in defense of secularism not in defense of a political stand. Indeed, while this book was being completed, on April 27, 2007, within hours of the failure of the presidential candidate Abdullah Gu¨l to win enough votes in the first round of ballots in the parliament, the Turkish General Staff posted a memorandum on its website warning the government of what they considered to be an ‘above-politics’ or ‘unpolitical’ rather than antipolitical way: ‘‘[T]he TAF maintains its firm determination to carry out its legally specified duties’’ to protect the secular republic and that ‘‘it should not be forgotten

Introduction

13

that the TAF is a side in this debate and a staunch defender of secularism.’’ The Internet memorandum hinted that the general staff might act against the government if Abdullah Gu¨l—the Foreign Minister and the JDP’s presidential candidate—was kept as the presidential candidate. As the Constitutional Court also annulled the first round of presidential voting, the prime minister called for early elections on July 22 to resolve the crisis. This midnight statement was historic in the sense of being the first explicitly worded warning to a democratically elected government in Turkey after the country had already been ‘officially connected’ to the EU as a potential member. In the light of Turkey’s impressive record for implementing change and ongoing enthusiasm for Europeanization, is it safe to suggest that future politics will probably evolve in favor of changing the existing bias for a ‘more security less democracy’ formula? The April 2007 memorandum made clear that no amount of external pressure can lead to democratic reforms if the constitutionally elected civilian power-holder, the JDP, does not have the ‘political will’ to sustain the process. The ruling party’s lack of strength can be explained by a number of causes: given the fact that the power balance favors the secular elite, the counter elite, the JDP, is not entrusted to take decisions on key issues; and/or external conditions produce unintended/ perverse consequences which create negative incentives for the JDP to reinforce its new identity and complete a risky project, which could bolster its chances of survival in the long-term.

Notes 1 This criticism is expressed by a renowned Islamic intellectual, Ali Bulac, and Kenan Camur in a revived website (went off the web in 1996 having published two Islamic journals called Bilgi and Hikmet). ‘AKP’ye Demir Yumruk,’ February 10, 2006. 2 Gunter Verheugen, the former EU Commissioner responsible for enlargement, coined this critical phrase about the changing strategic importance of Turkey: He said that before 9/11, the fundamental question was ‘where’ Turkey was located; after that date the question turned into ‘what’ Turkey was in terms of her identity. Quoted in Yetkin (2004). 3 Turkey is a long time NATO member and a major US ally; it sits astride Europe, the Balkans, the Middle East and the Transcaucusus and apportions twice as much of its national income to its defense budget than any of the other NATO members. . 4 For instance, General Ilker Basbug, the then Deputy Chief of the General Staff, rejected the Islamic-democratic model on the grounds that the secular character of the Republic and a moderate Islam are incompatible. See Milliyet (2004a). 5 The Turkish president openly referred to Turkey as a ‘secular’ model in his talks with the US Secretary of State Condeleezza Rice during her state visit to Turkey. See Milliyet (2005). 6 The EU Common Position Paper’s online address is: www.turkishpress.com/ news.asp?id = 128408 7 Through two major constitutional reforms made in 2001 and 2004 and eight legislative packages passed between February 2002 and July 2004, three areas of

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¨ mit Cizre U structural reform as required by the EU have been dealt with. The exception is the position of the chief of general staff (he is still responsible to the prime minister rather than the defence minister).

References Beck, Ulrich (1994) ‘The Reinvention of Politics: Towards a Theory of Reflexive Modernization’, in Ulrich Beck et al. (ed.) 1994, Reflexive Modernization, Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Belge, M. (2004) ‘Between Turkey and Europe: Why Friendship Is Welcome’, Open Democracy. Available online at: www.opendemocracy.net/debates/article3-123-2268.jsp (accessed on 17 December 2004). EC (2004) Commission of the European Communities, Commission Staff Working Document, Issues Arising from Turkey’s Membership Perspective, 6 October, Brussels: Commission of the European Community. —— (2005) European Commission, Turkey 2005 Progress Report, Brussels, 9 November 2005. —— (2006) European Commission, Commission Staff Working Document, Turkey 2006 Progress Report, Brussels, 8 November 2006. EP (2003) European Parliament, Draft Resolution on the 2003 Regular Report of the Commission on Turkey’s Progress towards Accession, (COM (2003) 676–SEC (2003) 1212-C5–0535/20003–2003/2204 (INI), Brussels: European Parliament. Hill, F. and Taspinar, O. (2006) ‘Turkey and Russia: Axis of the Excluded’, Survival, 48: 81–92. Kinzer, S. (2004) ‘Will Turkey Make It?’, The New York Review of Books, 51: 12. Available online at: www.nybooks.com/articles17240 (accessed 16 January 2005). Lowry, H.W. (2000) ‘Turkey’s Political Structure on the Cusp of the Twenty-First Century’, in Morton Abromowitz (ed.) Turkey’s Transformation and American Policy, New York: Century Foundation Press. Milliyet (2004a) ‘Turkiyenin Yapisi Belli’, Milliyet, 20 March. —— (2004b) ‘Orgeneral Basbug’a Yanit: Laiklik Din Degil Ki’, Milliyet, 22 March. —— (2005) ‘Ilimli Islama Model Olmayiz’, Milliyet, 8 February. Turkishpress (2005) ‘Sezer: Turkey Is a Model Country with Its Secular, Democratic and Legal State Qualities’, Turkishpress, 7 April. Available online at: www.turkish press.com/news.asp?id = 40026 (accessed on 7 April 2005). Yetkin, M. (2004) ‘Turkiyeye Bakis 11 Eylulle Degisti’, Radikal, 10 March.

Part I

Historical evolution and the interactive making of the Justice and Development Party

1

The specific evolution of contemporary Political Islam in Turkey and its ‘difference’ Menderes C ¸ ınar and Burhanettin Duran

Introduction Islamist movements are almost exclusively seen as anti-modern, anti-democratic and mostly violent political movements based primarily on the portrayal of Islam as an essentially dysfunctional religion for both modernity and democracy (C ¸ ınar 2002). Although there is a growing literature that challenges the essentialist portrayals and that emphasizes the secular determinants of Islamist politics, the atrocities of the September 11 terrorist attacks seem to have reinforced the tendency in Western public mind to associate Islamism with anti-Westernism and terrorism. This chapter provides an alternative view to the essentialist and monolithic understanding of Islamism with particular reference to Turkish Islamism. The authors of this chapter, first, reject viewing Islam as ontologically different from other religions and refrain from reductionist explanations of the political and economic advancement of the West and the backwardness of the Islamic East in terms of differences between Christianity and Islam. Secondly, the authors of this chapter reject transhistorical definitions of Islam and share with Aziz Al-Azmeh (1993: 1) the opinion that ‘‘there are as many Islams as there are situations that sustain it.’’ Islamism as an ideology or a political discourse is derived from a particular reading of Islam. The process of reading the Islamic text and tradition has been a constant but changing one, especially in the face of the needs of the time. As a corollary, third, the authors assume that particular understandings of Islam(ism) are determined by an interactive relationship between Islamist movements and their social and political environments. Islamist movements in this respect are inevitably shaped and transformed by the cultural factors, economic structures and political institutions in which they operate. Islamic political thought provides enough material for both authoritarian closures and democratic openings, depending on the nature of the specific political culture, socio-economic factors and attitudes of both the Islamist and non-Islamist political elite. How Islamism and the secular forces interact will be determined by ‘‘the deliberate and calculated choices of the leaders, by the configuration of regional political

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forces and by international influences’’ (Monshipouri 1997: 65–66). Hence, it is certain that ‘‘attention to historical specificity and to the nuances of difference and similarity among and within Islamist movements is essential to a useful understanding of these phenomena.’’ (Beinin and Stork 1997: 22; see also Ayoob 2005). Moreover, the authors emphasize the heterogeneity of interests and discourses within the Islamist movement, regardless of the commonality of the references, i.e. Islamic principles and sources. Political expressions of Islamist demands are contingent and socially and culturally constructed through processes of interaction that are closely tied to all Islamist organizations (Duran and Yıldırım 2005: 228) An analysis of Islamism, therefore, has to pay attention to the fact that Islamist movements are shaped by the interaction not only between Islamists and secularists but also among Islamists themselves. In this way, we do not present Islamic movements as ‘‘homogeneous and coherent social units’’ by ‘‘overlooking variations over time in religious perceptions, practice and institutions among different segments of the population within a given society and between different Muslim countries’’ (Bayat 2005: 891). Finally, Islamism is defined in this chapter by a rather loose criterion simply for the reason that the borders of Islamism are not merely confined to a movement which has a political project/ideology for capturing political power. Rather, conscious epistemological and ontological reference to ‘Islam’ for shaping or directing a state, a society, and an individual, directly or indirectly, is regarded as the essential feature of our conceptualization of Islamism.

Different Trajectories of Islamism Over time, Islamism has continued to define itself with reference to the West. Historically, the awakening of the contemporary Muslim world started in the nineteenth century as an attempt to rebuild the great civilization of Islam in the face of increasing Western-cum-Christian dominance and colonialism. Criticizing the then prevailing practice of Islam as degenerated, the early Islamists shared the conviction that a return to the pristine or true Islam was essential for the revitalization of Islamic civilization and for reassuming the ‘righteous’ position of supremacy vis-a`-vis the West. In their minds, the West had developed by borrowing from Islam, while the Muslims’ abandoning of it has resulted in their apparent inferiority. In this way, the Islamists emphasized the merits of Islam. Moreover, in defending Islam as a civilization, the Islamists borrowed from Western categories. Hence, parallels and similarities were found between, for example, the Islamic principle of shura and democracy.

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In the post-colonial nation-state era, Islamism assumed the characteristics of third worldism, blaming the West, the Westernizing elite and authoritarian regimes for all the ills it suffered. Coming from different Islamic traditions, the Sunni and Shi’a, Islamists shared a similar negative view of the West as soulless, godless, materialistic, mechanical, corrupt, greedy, selfish, decadent, arrogant, atheistic, secularist and hedonist (Duran 2001: 1–5). The leading ideological sources of this negative depiction can be attributed to the Iranian Sayyid Muhamud Taleqani (who strongly influenced Islamic revolutionary ideology in Iran), the Egyptian Sayyid Qutb (a prominent Muslim Brotherhood activist) and the Pakistani Abu-l-A’la Maududi (the founder of the Jamaat-i Islami) (Boer 2004: 1543). Henceforth, ‘‘the struggle between Islam and the West is seen by Islamists as a Manichean war in which the believers in the true and only God and the idolators worshipping the false god of matter are good and evil respectively’’ (Boer 2004: 1543). Such an Islamist Occidentalism that portrays the West as essentially ‘‘a form of idolatrous barbarism’’ runs contrary to the historical experience of coexistence and learning between Islamic and Western civilizations and constitutes an attack on the mind of Islamic civilization. Moreover, if, as Buruma and Margalit (2004) argued, the roots of Occidentalism lie in German romanticism, the Islamist images of the West is not Islamic per se. Occidentalism, in other words, does not represent a return to pristine Islam. It rather illustrates a further stage in the Islamist use of Western categories. The rise of contemporary Islamism as an essentially opposition movement is linked to a number of factors, for example:  the failure of modernizing regimes to deliver on their promises and to provide their citizens with a worldview;  the Arab-Israeli war;  uneven globalization;  increasing post-modernization of daily life;  post-modern criticisms that undermine the intellectual bases of Westernization; and  further modernization in Muslim countries which creates new opportunities for peripheral Muslim identity to express itself in the public sphere. The trajectories of these opposition movements have depended upon a multiplicity of contextual factors ranging from the nature of ‘secularist’ Westernizing regimes to demographic imbalances to particular interpretations of Islam and politics. In some contexts Islamism is integrated into the political arena as oppositional political forces (e.g. Turkey, Algeria, Jordan, Indonesia and Malaysia), while in some others, like Tunisia, they have been banned or precariously survived in non-governmental organizations as in Egypt. In some contexts, like Turkey, their access to the office was allowed, while in others, like Algeria, their rise to

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power was prevented by a military take over. In Iran, an Islamist revolution took place in 1979. As Abdel Wahab al-Effendi concluded, Islamist movements have been successful as opposition forces but failed, once in power, to provide ‘‘a stable and workable form of government’’ addressing the secular needs of the ordinary Muslims (quoted in Takeyh and Gvosdev 2004: 87). By taking a quick look at what Islamist movements do when they are in power, one may distinguish three different cases: the Islamic Republic in Iran (1979–); the Islamic Salvation Front (Front Islamique du Salut, FIS) in local governments (1990–92) in Algeria; and the Welfare Party (Refah Partisi, WP) in coalition government (1996–97) in Turkey. These three cases showed that Islamists experienced problems with power-sharing when they came to power. The Iranian Islamic Republic crushed its opponents just after the Revolution while the members of the FIS lost their political power and their very lives after the secularist military intervention in 1992. The Iranian case demonstrates the limits of Islamist politics to transform the state and society along shari’a rules. Sami Zubaida (1997: 118–19) argues that in spite of the radical intentions of the Revolution; only some elements of shari’a enter the legislation of the Islamic Republic: ‘‘the 1989 amendments to the constitution, sanctioned by Khomeini before his death, allow the government to disregard shari’a provisions in legislation and policy in the interests of the Islamic community.’’ The Turkish WP’s experience showed that Islamists can come to power through elections, give up power without resorting to violence (Khan 2001: 223–24), and be flexible and pragmatic in power. The Turkish Islamists have preferred more responsible and peaceful choices in presenting ‘‘a countercultural model of modernity’’ and in representing ‘counter-elites’ to the Kemalist elites (Gole 1997: 53). Yet, the Turkish case also shows that Islamists could not survive in power in the face of the tension generated by the military-led campaign, usually referred to as ‘‘the post-modern coup’’ or the 28 February (1997) process. However, in Turkey, a re-formed Islamism of the younger generation was able to win a landslide election victory and have remained in power since 2002, despite being under the constant questioning of the secularist establishment. Islamist movements have been transforming their discourses and programs in every part of the Muslim world—whether originating from their experience in power or in opposition. It is difficult to make a broad generalization about the specific evolutions of Islamisms. Political exclusion and repression does not necessarily lead to the adoption of terrorist or violent methods (Dalacoura 2006) and, as the case of the Egyptian al-Wasat (the Center) movement illustrates, moderation in Islamist politics can take place under authoritarian contexts (Wickham 2004). As the Turkish experience with the National Outlook Movement (Milli Goru¨s Hareketi-NOM), which has been ongoing since the 1970s, illustrates, integration into the political process does not necessarily result in the liberal transformation of Islamism.

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This again has more to do with the specific choices of Islamist actors and the features of the political system with which they engage than with Islam as a religion determining the political choices. It could be suggested that in the late 1990s, Islamism as a totalistic solution or ideology to any political regime in Muslim lands lost its attractiveness in the eyes of the ordinary Muslims living in the area stretching from Turkey to Indonesia (Hefner 2000). As Shadid (2002: 3) noted, ‘‘the adolescence of many of yesterday’s militants has yielded to the maturity of a crucial segment of today’s activists . . . that is finding a more realistic and potentially more successful future through democratic politics.’’ In a sense, Islamism has passed into ‘‘a post-Islamist stage in which Islamism is losing its political and revolutionary fervour but [is] steadily infiltrating social and cultural everyday practices’’ (Gole 2000: 92). The newly emerging (post-)Islamist discourse also focuses on the dialogue and interaction between the West and Islam by a clear reference to shared universal values like democracy, human rights, and civil society. This new discourse of Islamic civilization seems to be helpful for thinking constructively about the contemporary political problems of Muslims while providing a fertile ground for transformation of Islamist discourses on democracy, civil society and the West. At this point, the story of Turkey’s Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, JDP), which presupposes harmony, not conflict, between Islamic civilization and the West, can be given as an interesting case of transformation for Islamism. Before analyzing this transformation, it would be beneficial to focus on the peculiarities of Turkish Islamism.

An Outline of the Peculiarities of Turkish Islamism The first specific characteristic of Turkish Islamism derives from the fact that Islam’s hegemony was scattered by the Ottoman bureaucracy, which exhibited a type of positivism long before the mid-nineteenth century (Mardin 2005). When Islam was turned into an ideology in the late nineteenth century, it was the work of the Islamist intellectuals but not the ulema. Moreover, in problematizing what they believed to be the negation of Islam, the Islamist intellectuals borrowed from Western categories and argued for their compatibility with Islam. With the establishment of the Republic, Turkish nationalism de-emphasized Islam as part of the Turkish identity. As a corollary, the position of the ulema was further reduced as illustrated in the replacement of the Ministry of Religious Affairs and Foundations with the Directorate of Religious Affairs, which has a minor role in the representation of the Islamist movement or in the production of Islamist discourses. In fact, no other Muslim country in the Middle East or the North Africa has disempowered the ulema and disassociated its regime from Islam in the same thorough way as Kemalism did. Perhaps as a legacy of the Ottoman bureaucratic tradition, the priority of Kemalism has been to improve the monitoring and controlling capacities of the state. In this way,

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the autonomous political activity of society or simply of civil society can be kept in check. An illustration of the fact is the existence of private mosques in Egypt or how the Nahdatul Ulema (Movement of Religious Scholars) controlled Islamic boarding schools (pesantren) in Indonesia, both of which are rather unusual in Turkey. Similarly, the equivalent of relatively autonomous institutions like the Egyptian al-Azhar does not exist in Turkey. The Turkish Directorate of Religious Affairs, which fulfills a similar function as al-Azhar, is a completely bureaucratized institution. Consequently, ‘‘the most important determinant of the political role of Islam and its relevance in politics throughout the republic’’ has been the Turkish state (CizreSakallıoglu 1996: 231). Turkish secularism against this background was not about the separation of state and religion, but about submission of religion to the reason of the state, promotion of an acceptable ‘state Islam’, and the judgment of nonconforming Islams as potential threats to the ‘secular’ regime. Hence, secularism in Turkey involved not only the disestablishment of Islam, but also its different establishment in accordance with the new basis of legitimacy of the Republican state (Davidson 2003). Consequently, it is not in the separation of religion and state, but in the degree of disestablishment of Islam that Turkey differs from Egypt and Indonesia. In Egypt, the constitution establishes sharia as the main source of legislation and the Political Parties Law stipulates that political parties should not conflict with sharia. Moreover, all Egyptian rulers ‘‘have claimed to rule in a manner compatible with Islam’’ (Wickham 2004: 95). In Turkey, Islam is legally irrelevant to political activity in the sense that considering it in law-making is prohibited. Turkish constitution forbids ‘‘even partially basing the fundamental social, economic, political and legal order of the state on religious tenets.’’ Hence, even the Islamist WP’s leader, Necmettin Erbakan, had to claim that he would rule in accordance not with sharia, but reason and rationality. In Indonesia, pancasila is not a secular, but a multi-confessional ideology embracing all the monotheist religions of the country. Although it is not a state religion, Islam regulates certain aspects of Muslim life, like marriage, under the protection of the Indonesian state (van Bruinessen 1996: 5). Secondly, as something parallel to the weakness of the ulema, the striking peculiarity that defines the Turkish Islamism and makes it unique is ‘‘the enduring tradition of Sufism’’ that has provided ‘‘an outlet for Islamic religious expression’’ and in doing so has managed ‘‘to block the radicalization of religion’’ (Yavuz 2004: 219–21). The Naksibendi order has a very special position in relation to the evolution of Turkish Islamism to the extent that all of ‘‘the successful elements of modern Turkish Islamic politics’’ ranging from political parties to intellectuals and Anatolian bourgeoisie, have originated from this order or they have been influenced largely from its teachings (Mardin 2005: 152). The Naksibendi order does not see the Turkish secular state as an enemy and, in that sense, has not produced a kind of antagonism that some radical Islamists have embraced in other parts of the Islamic

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world. Largely influenced by this Sufi tradition, Turkish political Islam chose to participate in the electoral process, hoping to affect change within the existing political structure. It kept itself away from the use of violence and terrorism—with the minor exception of Hizbullah1 which should be analyzed in the context of Kurdish nationalism and the armed separatism of the PKK (Kurdish Workers Party) rather than the Islamist movement. In the third place, perhaps until its recent transformation, Turkish Islamism had been a local and nationalist phenomenon with little, if any, impact on and from Islamist movements elsewhere. In this respect, it stands in contrast to the Egyptian Islamism as represented by the Muslim Brotherhood, branches of which have spread as far as South East Asia. One reason for this peculiarity is that Egypt has been ‘‘the centre of all currents, intellectual and ideological, in the Arab world’’ (Remnick 2004: 75). More importantly, however, Turkish Islamism has been under the pervasive influence of Turkish nationalism and has ‘‘little organisational link with the Arab world’’ (Zubaida 2004: 414). Mardin (2005) traces the historical roots of the disassociation from Arab Islam back to the Ottoman bureaucratic center’s condescension towards Arabs as Bedouins. The Young Turks’ suspicion of Arabs as secessionist and the perceived Arab betrayal during the First World War have reinforced the tendency to distinguish between Arab and Turkish Islams.2 Nationalism has provided the Turkish Islamists with a shield and vehicle for the expression of Islamist demands, because in the secularist Republican era openly Islamist movements that call for the application of the sharia were strictly forbidden. In other words, the call for the application of sharia, unlike in other parts of the Muslim world, has not been a political slogan to be rejected or to be defended in the Turkish political system. Turkish Islamism has therefore never felt the need to explain what sharia or an Islamic order entails. Consequently, Turkish Islamism has been a primarily power-oriented and intellectually impoverished movement with vague aims and ambiguous political orientations (C ¸ igdem 2001: 110–15). From another angle, the nationalist refuge has enabled the Turkish Islamism to utilize the opportunity to develop because of Turkey’s further modernization. This refuge, however, limited the international impact of Turkish Islamism. A further uniqueness of Turkish Islamism lies in the fact that although it fought a War of Independence, Turkey has never been formally colonized. The War was carried out by a coalition of Islamist, nationalist and leftist groups under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal (Atatu¨rk), who later founded the secular-nationalist Turkish Republic. In this respect, although the War was waged on the basis of a predominantly Muslim identity, Islam was not the exclusive source of mobilization in the liberation of the country. Moreover, compared to Egypt and Indonesia, which were colonized by the British and Dutch respectively, Turkey had a stronger orientation towards the West partly because it did not go through the colonial experience. Unlike Egypt and Indonesia, for example, Turkey did not join the third

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worldist bloc of the Bandung era during the Cold War. The anchoring of Turkey into the Western structures has had an impact on its international trajectories. Although Turkish Islamism has always been imbued with some level of anti-Western feelings due to the memories of the War of Independence and the nineteenth century Ottoman political experience with the West, the leading elements of Turkish Islamism abandoned their antiEuropean discourses in the 28 February Process and have supported Turkey’s integration into Europe. This change of mind can be related to the Islamist conviction that the process of transition into the EU is likely to force the Turkish political system to undertake significant democratic reforms that will make the Kemalist ideology less repressive and intrusive (Duran 2004). Another feature which explains the specific evolution of Islamism in Turkey and its approach to the secular regime and democracy is closely bound up with the ‘‘state-dominant nature’’ of Turkish political culture and tradition (Sunar and Toprak 1983: 421). The Turkish Islamists’ conception of the proper strategy necessary to soften the strict nature of Turkish secularism is a pragmatic and long-term one. This is a ‘‘strategy of patience’’ which is similar to the laws of ebb and flow; when the secular regime weakens its oppressive nature, Islamists do their best to enlarge the sphere of freedom for their religious activities, such as the public visibility of Islamic actors and the Islamic way of life in the early 1990s. However, when conditions worsen, they show little resistance and wait for another flow without any resort to violence. This ‘state-dominant’ political culture of Islamists is the main reason why Islamists do not resort to violence when they face repression from the secular regime. There is, however, another side to the state-hegemonic political discourse. One might also argue that Islamists, from intellectuals to sheikhs, see the state as a transcendental and abstract entity and regard it as a protector of the Islamic community and values in spite of its secular nature. This understanding stems from the Sunni interpretation of Islam which prioritizes the necessity of political authority and state for the salvation of umma and religion. This transcendental conceptualization still regards the secular state as essential for the protection of Muslims’ interests even though it has categorically rejected any possibility of protecting Islamic .ideals. This notion of state is best illustrated by a popular story, which Ismail Kara (1998: 9–10) mentions in his book, Seyh Efendinin Ru¨yasındaki Tu¨rkiye. In the 1930s, when the secularist reforms were implemented forcefully, Sheikh Rahmi Baba secretly called the other sheikhs to a city in Anatolia in order to curse the Kemalist regime. Rahmi Baba, however, had a dream in the night before the meeting, that changed his attitude towards the Kemalist regime. In his dream, Turkey’s rule was given to Mustafa Kemal by the prophet Muhammad. The Sheikh’s dream was interpreted in such a way that despite its non-Islamic policies, there was no need to curse the new secular regime for Islam would eventually be better off under it.

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Turkey’s Islamism can also be differentiated from other Islamisms in terms of its diversity. As Turkish modernization unfolded, the Islamist movement diversified into a rich variety of social, political, economic, cultural and religious dimensions, manifesting itself in various organizations from religious orders to human rights associations. The fragmentation and pluralism of the Islamist movement in Turkey can be illustrated by identifying five main Islamist groups: a political organization(s), the political parties of NOM; b religious orders and communities like several branches of Nakshibendi order and of Nurcu movement;3 . c intellectuals like Sezai Karakoc¸, Ismet Ozel, Ali Bulac¸ and Rasim Ozdenoren; . d business associations (Mu¨siad), trade unions (Hak-Is), and human rights associations (Mazlum-Der); e independent small organizations around some journals, foundations, and associations. As such, Islamism in Turkey is basically an urban movement empowered by a strong middle class and its identity politics. In spite of its different forms, one can speak of a common desire among them for ‘‘a reappraisal of Islam’’ (Gole 2006: 7) and for a reconsideration of its role and place in public life. Indeed, these different groups have their own leadership and agendas, which might lead to a conflict of interest within the Islamist movement. For example, Nurcu leader, Fethullah Gu¨len, supported the 28 February Process in which the military forced the NOM’s WP-led coalition government to resign. He also presented a ‘‘peaceful way’’ to deal with this Islamist party by recommending that the party remain open while continuing with its prosecution in the Constitutional Court until the 1999 elections (Yavuz 2003: 201). In terms of analyzing the contextual diversity of Turkish Islamic movements’ attitudes towards globalization and the West, some authors (Kuru 2005: 254) argue that these attitudes are contingent on two variables: domestic and international opportunity structures and the normative frameworks of movements. In this line of thinking, although Turkish Islamist movements have shared the same Sunni religious heritage, some, like the Gu¨len Movement, support globalization, while others, like the Haydar Bas community, is more antagonistic towards the West (ibid.: 265–67). Finally, Islamists in Turkey have always felt the need to moderate their Islamic demands simply because of the competitive position of the Turkish rightist parties (the Justice Party in the 1970s and the Motherland Party in the 1980s) in meeting these demands. This liberal conservative tradition of the centre-right political parties is characterized by a ‘‘deep rooted political tradition of cohabitation between secularism and Muslim identity’’ (Gole 1995: 43). The strength of this tradition contributed much to the inclusive

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nature of Islamist politics in Turkey. That is why Jenny B. White (2002: 274) argues that the success of the Islamist parties in the 1990s rested less on their religious message than on their unique organizational ability to incorporate a wide variety of local voices and desires into the national political process on a continual basis. Moreover, it should be noted that the Kemalist secular reforms have generated a large majority of secular people, whose existence forces Islamists to moderate their stance and ideas. The leading members of Turkish Islamist movements are products of Turkish modernization in the sense that they were educated in the secular schools of the republican regime.

Kemalism and Islam: Tension and Interaction In Republican Turkey, the Islamist movement has passed through several phases. It has been significantly influenced by the unfolding of the modernization project, by the dominant ideological frameworks of the time, and by the flexible nature of Kemalism—the official ideology named after the founder of the Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Atatu¨rk. Kemalism can be defined as an anti-political and state-centered paradigm that claims that the Turkish society and public sphere is homogeneous and that displays distaste for political representation of differences. Compared to Nasserism in Egypt and pancasila in Indonesia, Kemalism has been a more durable foundational ideology in Turkey. The Turkish military, which finds its raison d’etre in guarding Kemalism-cum-the nation, is the central agent in the institutionalization of Kemalism as a state ideology. However, this institutionalization enables the military, ‘‘as the guardian of Kemalism,’’ to gain political autonomy, appear as supra-political, and intervene in civilian politics from a so-called ‘‘above politics’’ position (Cizre-Sakallıoglu 1997: 153). Neither in Indonesia, nor in Egypt, is there such an institutionalized foundational ideology, elevated to the status of moral consensus and protection of the military. In Indonesia, the New Order regime was a Suharto-centered corporatist political structure. Suharto’s commitment to the foundational ideology of pancasila was vague and instrumentalist because his policies were determined by practical political considerations for prolonging his rule.4 Like Suharto, Mubarak did not feel bound by an ideology that would restrict his de-secularizing policies. This was not because there was a foundational ideology and the Mubarak regime treated it as something disposable. In fact, Egypt lacks a revivable foundational ideology because Nasserism—a third worldist ideology named after Egypt’s founding father, Gamal Abdul Nasser—had died even when Nasser was alive (Shadid 2002: 47–48). The Turkish foundational ideology can be defined as a controlled modernization project that aims at modernizing the polity and society while, at the same time, failing to come to terms with the full implications of the unfolding of modernization project. Hence, it is possible to talk of a built-in tension

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within Kemalism between Westernism and anti-Westernism, liberalism and national unity, and democracy and secularism. On the one hand, as a proWestern ideology, Kemalism has kept Turkey at the edges of the West as a Nato member, as a long-term EU-candidate, and as a developing country refusing to join the third worldist ‘non-aligned’ movement during the Cold War. On the other hand, when simultaneously sustaining a pro-Western and an overtly illiberal political stance gets difficult, Kemalism can adopt a thirdworldist and isolationist outlook. This second Kemalist perspective perceives the EU as a ‘Christian Club’, deliberately undermining the secular and unitarian regime in Turkey.5 Still, it could be argued that compared to Egypt and Indonesia, Turkey has an uninterrupted pro-Western path because of Kemalism’s pro-Western stance, which means it is more susceptible to external pressure for democratization. Indonesia and Egypt have played pivotal roles in the initiation of the ‘Bandung Era’ (1955–75), which is the era of third worldism in international politics.6 Indonesia was a leading member of the non-aligned bloc even when Suharto maintained a generally pro-Western stance (since 1966). Since the end of Suharto regime in 1998, the combined result of the 1997 economic crisis, IMF-imposed austerity measures, problems of maintaining national unity and the East Timor crisis, has been a surge in anti-Western sentiments and a third worldist emphasis on greater independence.7 In Egypt, the Mubarak regime domestically employs an anti-Western rhetoric and sponsors conservative Islam to foster its legitimacy, while maintaining a pro-US/ West stance in international politics. This, in effect, nurtures an ‘‘either Islamism or authoritarian regime’’ dilemma, the plausibility of which, to Western eyes, is fortified by the fact that Egypt has been the heartland of Islamism.8 The Egyptian dilemma does not hold for Turkey, because Turkish democratization ‘‘has gone too far for any hardline Islamist policy of the sort that can be seen elsewhere in the Muslim world’’ (Hermann 2003: 275). Moreover, although the prospects of its full membership in the EU is declining and although Kemalist Euro-skepticism is on the rise, the start of accession negotiations since 2005 has anchored Turkey even more firmly into the Western structures. As Cizre-Sakallıoglu (1996: 231) argued, historically speaking, ‘‘[w]ithout changing its basic stance, the Turkish state adopted a double discourse: on the one hand establishing a rigid segregation between Islam and the political realm: on the other, accommodating and incorporating Islamic politics into the system [in] various ways.’’ The leaders of the War of Independence that later established the secular republican nation-state had employed an Islamic vocabulary in the struggle to liberate the nation (Zu¨rcher 1999). After the establishment of the republic, a distinction was made between regressive and progressive Islam and the latter was promoted by the state as compatible with its modernization drive. In reestablishing (a state) Islam by controlling the autonomous existence of popular Islam, Kemalism actually made the popular Islamic identity insecure in Turkey.

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With the transition to competitive politics, the insecurity of the Islamic groups was translated into a search for power to assure a secure place in society. Henceforth, a reciprocal relationship was established between Islamic groups and right-wing political parties in the form of clientelism. Religious orders bought security and expanded their sphere of activities in return for their promise of votes en bloc. The clientelist nature of the relationship, however, meant that security was precarious and, when employed by the political parties, the language of Islam was instrumental. This instrumentalization of Islam continued until the early 1990s. Hence, a pragmatic outlook dominated almost all religious formations at the level of society and formal politics. It could therefore be argued that while the practice of secularism had somewhat relaxed since the beginning of the multiparty regime, its original state-centered and control-oriented definition was maintained by all Islamic groups, political actors, and the state. Islamists of the early Republic embraced a nationalist and conservative vocabulary aiming at protecting the sharia under the cloak of the nation’s mores (culture) (Duran 2001: 166–67). Conservatism was considered as the most proper and natural way for the flourishing of Islamic civilization (Hikmet 1924: 264). Later on, however, some Islamist intellectuals like Necip Fazıl Kısaku¨rek (1986 [1968]) presented Islam as a hard ideological system through which to construct a new society, a new morality and a new type of man. While challenging Kemalism, such an attempt was also parallel to the political search of the time to find an alternative ideological framework to oppose communism. Kısaku¨rek often defended nationalism by coloring it with Islamic tones and values in order to desecularize the Kemalist definition of nation and nationalism. The pervasive influence of nationalism on Turkish Islamism can certainly be attributed to the fact that nationalism represented ‘‘a shield and vehicle’’ for the expression of Islamist demands in the secular republican politics. The framing of nationalism in Islamic terms during the War of Independence certainly provides the Islamist actors with an intellectual or discursive antecedent in this respect. In summary, it can be argued that within the scope of secularism, the state’s attitudes towards Islam have varied considerably. As a result of the dual (modernizing and controlling) nature of Kemalism, Islamist outlooks have been integrated into the political processes, but their presence has been problematized as reactionist internal enemies of the secular Turkish republic. Thus the issues of secularism and Islamism in Turkey should be discussed in terms of consolidation of democracy instead of transition to democracy.

The National Outlook Movement versus Kemalism When Turkey’s experiment with democracy was interrupted in 1960, partly due to the increasingly authoritarian policies of the DP, the military and its

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liberal civilian allies promulgated the most liberal constitution in the Turkish political history. The original intention was to constrain the power of elected governments vis-a`-vis the non-elected state elite, but the 1960 constitution also laid the ground for a more pluralized political sphere. Consequently, the increasing pluralization of the society, due to the unfolding of the modernization project, can be reflected in the political arena. The Islamist NOM and its first political party, the National Order Party (Milli Nizam Partisi), were thus founded by Necmettin Erbakan with the considerable support of some Sufi orders (tarikats). After the closure of this party by the Constitutional Court during the 1971 military intervention by memorandum, the movement reincarnated as the National Salvation Party (Milli Selamet Partisi), which, along with all other political parties, was closed by the 1980 coup administration. The NOM has been a movement claiming stakes from the advancement of modernization on behalf of its conservative peripheral constituency. In this respect, it addressed mainly socioeconomic problems by employing an Islamic language and by offering an Islamic morality as a panacea to them. The third party of the NOM, the WP (1983–96), maintained this secular emphasis on the problems of daily life and decided to broaden its support base beyond the ‘mosque mass.’ Since the era of national developmentalism was over because of the increasing impact of globalization, the party pragmatically dropped such mottos as ‘heavy industry’ and focused on an equal distribution of consumer opportunities (Sarıbay 1994: 201–6). Similarly, the new Islamist intellectuals of the 1980s and 1990s have rejected the grand narratives of the nineteenth century such as progress, science, reason and civilization and have placed modernity at the center of the picture by positioning it in contradistinction to Islam. Influenced by the dominant intellectual currents in the West, they utilized some post-colonial, communitarian, and post-modern arguments to criticize Kemalism, positivism and modernity (C ¸ ınar and Kadıoglu 1999). It was during the WP period that political Islam became a major player in Turkish politics. In 1994, the party won the municipalities of such symbolically important cities as Istanbul and Ankara. In 1995, the party received the highest share of votes (21.3%) and eventually managed to form a coalition with the center-right True Path Party (Dogru Yol Partisi-TPP) and make its leader, Erbakan, the prime minister of Turkey. With the benefit of hindsight, it could be suggested that the WP-TPP coalition government represented the head-on clash of Islamism and secularism and became a watershed in Turkish politics (see Cizre and C ¸ ınar 2003). Since then, in an ongoing military-led secularist campaign, the military assumed a more active role in Turkey’s key policy decisions and in making, breaking, and ousting governments. Usually referred to as the 28 February Process, the secularist campaign also revised the 1980 coup administrations’ definition of secularism in order to bar any public visibility of Islam. In the meantime, the WP and its successor, the Virtue Party (Fazilet Partisi, VP), were closed

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by the Constitutional Court on the grounds that they violated the principle of secularism. A process of division was started within the Islamist movement between the proponents of rethinking and recrafting of Islamist politics and the advocates of a low-profile political stance until the secularist campaign comes to an end. It could be suggested that the WP’s experience in government represented the failure of Islamism in surviving in power and in delivering on promises to both the Islamic constituency and to the broader society. The WP contributed to its own predicament and to the cleansing of Islam from the public sphere (Yavuz 2000) but not because it upheld the idea of divine sovereignty and tried to implement God’s will rather than legislating the will of the people. In fact, the WP upheld the idea that will of the nation is supreme and agreed to the rules of competitive electoral politics. However, its definition of the nation’s will was more hypothetical than empirical. Moreover, its understanding of democracy was majoritarian and its conceptualization of politics reproduced the Kemalist political grammar vis-a`vis both society and the constituency. These defects resulted in a kind of politicization on the part of the WP which failed to represent Islamic issues, problems and identity. In terms of its conceptualization of society, the WP disregarded the plural patterns of ideas, beliefs, and lifestyles in society by attributing an Islamic essence to them and by insisting that every nominal Muslim should practice Islam in the way that the WP defined. It thereby failed to come to terms with the fact that the majority of Turks do not practice Islam in the way the party hoped. This led to an exclusionary and polarizing political style and to the inability to counter the challenge of the military-led secularist establishment by broadening its constituency or by demystifying the alleged reactionist threat. In other words, focusing only on the secularist substance of the state that is associated with the Westernizing elite, the WP failed to take the state as an institutional framework of democratic politics and problematize its non-pluralist form of relationship with society. Consequently, the WP seemed to be willing to use instrumentally the monist institutional set up of Turkish secularism for its own Islamizing ends. As such, the WP was more ready to mobilize Islamic values to prolong the existing system than to reject it by ‘‘giving effective expressions to individual rights . . . and expanding political sphere’’ (Cizre-Sakallıoglu 1998: 17).

JDP and Transformation of Islamism: Retreat or a New Form? The failure of the WP government to survive in power by reassuring the respectability of secular life styles led to a change not only in strategy and tactics but also in discourses and visions of the NOM. The change of mind in Islamists is attributable not only to the strict measures of the 28 February Process. It also has to do with the recognition that democratization, rather than seizing the power of the state, allowed pious people to live an Islamic

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life. Hence, in contemporary Turkey, different sectors of Islamism have a growing inclination to appropriate the ideas of democracy and civil society thought to be non-Islamic at the beginning of the formation of Islamist discourses. The JDP, a new party that was founded in 2001 by some ex-Islamists from the WP, has persistently rejected the label ‘Islamist,’ by declaring that their leading members have changed their mind on the issues of secularism, democracy and the Islamic state. The JDP leaders have also underlined that they are trying to forge a new understanding of politics, free from the politicization of religion and advocating secularism. One of the prominent founding members of the JDP and its foreign minister, Abdullah Gu¨l (2003), described the JDP’s new politics and reformism as ‘‘a well thought-out political philosophy’’ based on a sincere sense of mission and duty: We are to prove that a Muslim society is capable of changing and renovating itself, attaining contemporary standards while preserving its values, traditions and identity. We acted on the premise that [the] highest contemporary standards of democracy-fundamental freedoms, gender equality, free markets, civil society, transparency, good governance, rule of law and rational use of resources-are universal expectations. It is our belief that our people and other Muslim nations fully deserve to have these expectations met. Our societies can only benefit from the realization of these standards. And indeed, our societies have the necessary historical background and moral and spiritual strength to adapt themselves to modernity when guided with successful and determined leadership. (Gu¨l 2003) It is certain that, in comparison with the Indonesian and Egyptian cases, the existence of a semi-consolidated democratic system in Turkey contributes to the moderation of Islamists who somehow find a way to follow their identity politics within the system. In this respect, it is not only the conclusions that the younger reformist generation of Islamists have drawn from the WP-experience in government, but also the opportunities provided by Turkey’s well-established electoral democracy and the EU membership prospects that have facilitated the transformation of Islamism. In general, Islamism regards Westernization as a detrimental imitation of the West that is responsible for the political, economic and social maladies of the Muslim world. Turkish Islamism, since the Ottoman times, has accepted learning from the Western civilization, but this time, in the case of the JDP, the critique of Westernization has lost its significance to the extent that Turkey’s integration with the EU has become a major policy of this party. The JDP seems to deny the essentialism common to both Islamist and Islamophobic stances through its discourse on the meeting of civilizations.9 The essentialist and dogmatic aspects of Turkish Islamism have been erased and its pragmatic

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aspect has been strengthened by the JDP’s new discourse on conservative democracy. More importantly, the roots of this ‘‘second phase of Islamism,’’ in which a new generation of Islamists has started to follow an Islamic cultural program by dropping their ‘‘anti-systemic stand’’ and ‘‘rigid ideological corpus’’ (Gole 2006: 4), can be traced back to a series of transformations in Turkish Islamism in the 1990s. In the early 1990s, Turkish Islamists started to redefine and reframe their religious demands and ideals in terms of a universal vocabulary on human rights and liberties. A significant factor in this transformation was the expectations and needs of the newly rising Anatolian bourgeoisie and their economic interests directly related to the European markets (Yavuz 2006). Apart from these needs, the JDP’s new discourse should also be seen as the culmination of transformations in the various Islamic sectors in Turkey from religious orders and communities to intellectuals. In the 1990s, Islamists realized that their conceptions of state and society were largely influenced by the mentality of nationalist and leftist ideologies. Partly because of this realization, the influence of some Arabic (Muslim Brotherhood) and Pakistani (like Mawdudi) Islamists decreased drastically. It became clear that the experience of the Islamic state (caliphate) in the past was very different from the conditions of the modern nationstate. This logic led to the awareness that an Islamic political struggle suited to the realities of Turkey could be and even should be different from those other Muslim countries. Early signs of the transformation in Islamic circles can. be found in the examples of the Fethullah Gu¨len Movement and the Hak-Is Labour Union. The Gu¨len Movement (Kuru 2005: 261), is the leading Islamic community which benefited from ‘‘the international opportunity structures’’ shaped by globalization in order to soften the effects of the repressive secular state policies throughout the 1990s. Moreover, it was the Gu¨len Movement which opposed anti-Western feelings within Islamism by declaring that Turkey’s integration into the EU would not result in cultural assimilation for Turkish society: ‘‘Anti-Westernism would force us out. of civilization’’ (Kuru 2005: 265). It is also interesting to see that the Hak Is Labour Confederation was the first Islamist organization that successfully used the discourse of civil society not only to improve the interests of the workers but also. to identify the problems of the consolidation of democracy in Turkey. Hak-Is might be considered as the forerunner of the JDP’s new politics, which voices desires about the expansion of the sphere of politics regarding freedoms and human rights. The JDP’s intention of joining the EU is again in parallel with Hak. Is’s European inclinations (Duran and Yıldırım 2005: 242). It seems true to say that Islamism takes new forms in public life and ‘‘penetrates even more deeply into the social fibre and imaginary, thereby raising new political questions’’ (Gole 2006: 5) in the public sphere to be solved by the secular regimes, such as headscarf wearing at schools. Although the JDP has removed the Islamic symbols from its political

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discourse, it still keeps some Islamist sensitivities. Interestingly, Erdogan’s statement that ‘‘my reference is Islam’’ is the best expression of the Islamist concerns in Turkey. However, Islam as a reference might take some different interpretations. A reference to Islam can be at a personal level, meaning personal piety, but it can also mean that social life or state should be regulated in accordance with Islamic principles. Certainly, Islam is a reference for all Islamists, but it is not clear at what level: political, social, or personal. One may also distinguish three layers of Turkish Islamism. The first layer of Islamism involves the will to establish an Islamic government on the basic premise that all aspects of life in society must conform to a certain definition of sharia, Islamic prescriptions (Islamism as a political project). It attempts to capture the power of state and carry out a top-down process of Islamization. The second layer of the Islamist discourse involves the intention that the ordering of society in its political aspects should conform to the general norms and principles of Islam. It entails ‘‘a drive to Islamize’’ in the social sphere: ‘‘It involves a process whereby various domains of social life are invested with signs and symbols associated with Islamic cultural traditions’’ . (Ismail 2004: 616) (Islamism as societal Islamization). The third layer embraces a strong desire to meet the Islamic demands (headscarf and imam hatips) within the existing secular system (Islamism as identity politics: recognition of religious and cultural rights). The goal of this layer is to transform society through the transformation of individuals by extending the freedoms to live in accordance with the Islamic principles. The first and second layers of Islamism have always been confronted with the strict regulations of the secular establishment. Certainly, through learning from the experience of the 28 February Process, Islamists have dropped their claims on the first and second layers of Islamism. The third layer of Islamist politics is presented with a reference to the cultural values of the Turkish nation: ‘‘Turkish people, on the other hand, has been practicing religion for centuries. Islam has been one of the major motives of the society and the culture. Islam has been the cement of this society which comes from diversified ethnic background’’ (Gu¨l 2001). Nevertheless, it is very difficult for the observant Muslims or for the ex-Islamists to abandon the third layer, for example, demands for headscarves and religious education. At this point, it is not true to say that the JDP’s new politics is just a ‘‘shift from the politics of identity to the politics of services’’ (Yavuz 2005: 107). It might be proper to define it as a party which tries to combine a kind of politics of identity with a politics of services. This observation also explains why the JDP has often resorted to some conflictual attempts of reforms, albeit unsuccessful, to meet the Islamic demands about religious education. With deliberate intentions or not, the JDP still problematizes the Kemalist interpretation of secularism in relation to these demands, as seen in the several speeches of Tayyip Erdogan and Bu¨lent Arınc¸. This Islamic sensitivity of the JDP leadership may be called a soft version of ‘‘Islamism without Islamists.’’

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The critical question here is does ‘conservative democracy’ constitute an intellectual framework to legitimize the transformation of Islamism in Turkey? The term ‘conservative democrat’ is understood by some observers as ‘Muslim democrat’ but it is not preferred by the party because of its openness to the prejudice of the authoritarian secularism in Turkey (Mahc¸upyan 2003). The JDP’s manifesto on conservative democracy, written by Yalc¸ın Akdogan (2003), tries to cope with the issue of the compatibility between Islam and democracy, reminiscent of the Islamist agenda in the 1990s. Akdogan (2003) starts from the point that some Islamists have dropped their demand of an Islamic state and have started to talk about the state of Muslims, implying that this new state is secular but responsive to the Muslims’ demands. There is indeed a difference of focus between these two in relation to the place of Islam in democratic politics. The concept of Muslim democracy has some implications of developing a sort of Islamic democracy, partly different from the Western liberal one. Certainly Muslim democracy would demand much more for Islamic life than the realization of freedoms for headscarves and imam hatips. Conservative democrats, however, seem to limit their commitment to meeting these two demands and subordinate Islam to conservative values. One prominent Islamic intellectual Ali Bulac¸ (2003: 12) also argues that the JDP’s new discourse on ‘‘democratic Islam’’ is an agreement among the urban poor, agricultural sectors and Anatolian entrepreneurs and this is a ‘‘new version of Islamism’’ that has continued since the Young Ottomans. He also claims that the underlying factor behind the JDP’s success is the unvoiced and unspoken existence of Islamism.

Conclusion Turkish Islamism has always combined two different ways of Islamization: one is Islamization from above through the capture of government, and the other is Islamization from below through fostering of civil societal elements and religious way of life. The first way has been represented by the NOM and some Islamist intellectuals like Kısaku¨rek. The second one has been the more prevailing form, embraced by the religious orders and communities like Nakshibendism and Nurculuk. Islamist transformations, however, do not mean an inevitable process of liberalization, the prospects of which are also determined by the national and international contexts of the country in question. The transformation of Turkish Islamism in the case of the JDP is different from other examples in the Islamic world. For instance, the Party of Justice and Development (Parti de la Justice et du Development, PJD) in Morocco, the NU in Indonesia, or the al-Wasat in Egypt articulate a religious political agenda more exclusively than the JDP (Willis 2004: 79; Wickham 2004: 221). The Turkish JDP, on the other hand, was founded after it became clear that a WP-like party would only be tolerated as a minor oppositional force. As the party defines

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society as a harmonious unity of differences, it neglects the relations of power beyond the formal sphere of politic, i.e., at the societal level between Kurds and Turks, men and women, Muslims and Christians and so on, and focuses only on the political sphere. The implication is that the JDP overlooks societal aspects of democratization with the exception of the rights and liberties of Islamic identity: ‘‘Erdogan criticizes the monist conceptualization of public sphere for being closed to societal differences and for inhibiting freedoms only when it comes to the ban on wearing the headscarf on university premises’’ (C ¸ ınar 2006: 482–83). In this respect, the JDP contributes to the Islamization of Turkey from below only indirectly by embracing democracy and thus by empowering Islamic sectors. It is also true to say Turkey is clearly much further along the democratization path than the rest of the Muslim world. In this respect, the political contexts set limits upon the transformation of Islamism as well. For example, the Mubarak regime in Egypt represents ‘‘a type of political system whose institutions, rules, and logic defy any linear model of democratization’’ (Brumberg 2002: 56). Lack of a political vision that injects hope into society and the inadequate patronage capacities to buy legitimacy help reinforce the authoritarian restrictions of the Egyptian political system. Moreover, the continuing state-sponsored Islamization is reinforcing illiberalism in Egypt. Thus, although the al-Wasat’s willingness to cooperate with the non-Islamist parties and groups creates a potential and probable pressure for a democratic opening in the political system, the Egyptian regime prevents the unfolding of this movement. This, in effect, blocks the transformation of Islamism. Therefore, the practical function of the al-Wasat does not go beyond embarrassing the Mubarak regime. Similarly, in Indonesia, the ‘failure’ of democracy to deliver economic betterment and political stability since 1995 is resulting in a positive assessment of the authoritarian Suharto regime as people call for strong leadership and military rule, which means embracing Suhartoism (Emerson 2004). With the delegitimization of democracy at the popular level, there is fertile soil for the development of Islamism in rural Indonesia (Mujani and Liddle 2004). In contrast, a well established electoral democracy provided better incentives for the Turkish Islamists to transform themselves and come to power. Since 2002, despite the constant tension on the axis of secularism, the political system has apparently been able to deliver economic betterment, stability, and further democratization. In addition to further advancement of democracy, the international trajectories of Turkey is a blessing as well. Otherwise, an illiberal paradigm, the foundational ideology of Kemalism has anchored Turkey deeply into Western structures. Because Turkey’s EU membership is believed to signify the realization of the Republic’s historical aim of Westernization and because many in the secularist establishment feel bound by Kemalism, it was relatively easy

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for the JDP to reach a ‘consensus’ on Europeanizing reform packages. Hence, because sustaining a pro-Western and overtly illiberal political stance simultaneously was difficult for the Kemalist establishment, the JDP was able to lower substantially the profile of the military-dominated National Security Council, which has dominated the policy-making in Turkey for the last two decades.10 The JDP’s government process seems to be successful in terms of democratic performance thanks to the international trajectories of Turkey and the pro-Western stance of Kemalism, which makes the country more susceptible to global trends. What this indicates is a fresh but precarious hope for reconciliation of democracy and Islam/secularism. The highly institutionalized, illiberal but pro-Western foundational ideology of Kemalism appears as both an obstacle and an enabling factor in a prospective EU member country. Therefore, there is fresh, but precarious hope. Despite its suspicion, undermining and immobilization of the JDP, the Kemalist establishment acquiesced with the government’s Europeanizing reforms because of the binding status of Kemalism as a pro-Western foundational ideology. However, while enlarging the political sphere, none of these democratizing reforms supported altering illiberal secularism, which the Kemalist establishment still defends vigorously. Whether keeping on the track of Europeanization will be enough to resolve the clash between secularism and democracy and to create a vibrant civil society is difficult to tell, for adapting to European standards only by issuing new laws that focus on the formal sphere of politics is reminiscent of a Kemalist understanding of modernization, a distinguishing feature of which has been state-centeredness. For those who study Islamist discourses on democracy and civil society, the case of the JDP is interesting because it shows how Islamist politicians can transform their conflict-based ideology into a compromise- and consensusbased reform under convenient conditions.

Notes 1 Influenced by the Iranian Revolution of 1979, Hizbullah was founded in 1980 as an organization which received support from Islamist Kurds in southeast Turkey. . This radical organization consisted of two factions: the violent Ilim group in the southeastern town of Batman under the leadership of Hu¨seyin Velioglu and the less radical Menzil group in Diyarbakır. Hizbullah is held responsible for many murders of prominent Kurdish activists and intellectuals (Hermann 2003: 274; C ¸ akır 2001). 2 A recurrent anti-Arabism still underlies the quasi-official constructions of ‘Turkish Islam’ as a distinct version of Islam that is compatible with pluralism, modernity and secularism (Ozdalga 2006). 3 The movement comprises the followers of Said-i Nursi (1873–1960) and is currently divided into several ‘communities’ with different interpretations of Islam. 4 Therefore, to maintain his rule, Suharto was ready to do away with the principles of the pancasila state that he seemed to uphold until his courting of political Islam in the 1990s. Moreover, the Indonesian military, which is seen as the guardian of

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5 6 7

8

9

10

37

the pancasila state, was divided into ‘green’ (Islamist) and ‘red and white’ (nationalist) groups as a result of Suharto’s ‘divide and rule’ policies. For some top general’s statements, see Hu¨rriyet (2000); Yeni Binyıl (2000); and Radikal (2001). Bandung is the West Javanese city in Indonesia where the Asian-African Conference (17–24 April 1955) that symbolized the arrival of the third world in the international arena was held. See Berger (2004). Many Indonesian politicians and officers believe that the West is undermining Indonesia’s unity (Huxley 2002). Especially in the aftermath of 9/11, the international trajectory of Indonesia is said to be strengthening its illiberal democracy and the third-worldist tendencies within the country (Hadiz 2004: 57). Moreover, ‘‘Western interests in the Middle east are too complex for political reform to remain consistently a central part of the agenda’’ and external pressure for democratization on Egypt ‘‘is always tempered by its recognition of the legitimacy of the state of Israel’’ (Ottoway 2004: 5). Thus, although Egypt is a good starting point for democratization, it seems to have been stuck in a vicious circle that is propagated both domestically and internationally. Nevertheless, the Western attitudes towards the conflicts in the Muslim world in, for example, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Palestine, and Iraq have always nurtured the Islamist political identity not only in Turkey, in particular, but also in the Muslim world in general. It was the ‘Christian genocide’ in Bosnia-Herzegovina that created a fertile ground for the rise of Islamism (the Welfare Party) in the 1990s in Turkey. The recent Israeli invasion of Ghaza (in July 2006) resulted in mass demonstration against Israel and the USA, organized by the Saadet [Felicity] Party in Istanbul. In this demonstration, the FP’s leader, Recai Kutan called on the JDP government to cut off its political relations with Israel. The FP’s discourse of foreign policy makes it clear that this party has already gone back to the anti-Western and third-worist Islamist arguments. This anti-Western and confrontational discourse may undermine the JDP’s pro-European and consensual stance among the Islamic electorate in the long run. The escalation of anti-Western perceptions in the Turkish public opinion might revive the essentialist and dogmatic aspects of Turkish Islamism which have been erased by the JDP’s pragmatism and conservative democracy. For the reaction of the Kemalist establishment to the Europeanization or liberalization process under the JDP, see C ¸ ınar in this volume.

References Akdogan, Y. (2003) Muhafazakar Demokrasi, Ankara: Ak Parti. Al-Ahmeh, A. (1993) Islams and Modernities, London: Verso. Ayoob, M. (2005) ‘The Future of Political Islam: the Importance of External Variables’, International Affairs, 81: 951–61. Bayat, A. (2005) ‘Islamism and Social Movement Theory’, Third World Quarterly, 26: 891–908. Beinin, J. and Stork, J. (1997) ‘On the Modernity, Historical Specificity, and International Context of Political Islam’, in J. Beinin and J. Stark (eds) Political Islam, London and New York: I.B.Tauris Publishers. Berger, M.T. (2004) ‘After the Third World? History, Destiny and the Fate of Third Worldism’, Third World Quarterly, 25: 9–39.

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Boer, L. (2004) ‘Struggling with-isms: Occidentalism, Liberalism, Eurocentrism, Islamism’, Third World Quarterly, 25: 1541–48. ¨ c¸u¨ncu¨ Neslin Siyaseti, Ak Parti ve Modeli’, Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, 5: 4–12. Bulac¸, A. (2003) ‘U Buruma, I. and Margalit, A. (2004) Occidentalism: The West in the Eyes of Its Enemies, New York: Penguin Press.[0] van Bruinessen, M. (1996) ‘Islamic State or State Islam? Fifty Years of State-Islam Relations in Indonesia’, in I. Wessel (ed.) Indonesien arn Ende des 20. Jahrhunderts, Abera-Verlag: Hamburg. Brumberg, D. (2002) ‘The Trap of Liberalized Democracy’, Journal of Democracy, 13: 56–67. . . C ¸ akır, R. (2001) Derin Hizbullah: . Islamcı .Siddetin Gelecegi, Istanbul: Metis. C ¸ igdem, A. (2001) Tasra Epigi, Istanbul: Iletisim. C ¸ ınar, M. (2002) ‘From Shadow-Boxing to Critical Understanding: Some Theoretical Notes on Islamism as a ‘‘Political Question’’’, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions, 3: 33–57. —— (2006) ‘Turkey’s Transformation under the AKP Rule’, Muslim World, 96: 469–86. C ¸ ınar, M. and Kadıoglu, A. (1999) ‘An Islamic Critique of Modernity in Turkey: Politics of Difference Backwards’, Orient, 40: 53–69. ¨ . and C Cizre, U ¸ ınar, M. (2003) ‘Turkey 2002: Kemalizm, Islamism and Politics in the Light of the February 28 Process’, South Atlantic Quarterly, 102: 309–32. ¨ . (1998) ‘Rethinking the Connections Between Turkey’s ‘‘Western’’ Cizre-Sakallıoglu, U Identity versus Islam’, Critique, 12: 3–18. —— (1997) ‘The Anatomy of the Turkish Military’s Political Autonomy’, Comparative Politics, 29: 151–66. —— (1996) ‘Parameters and Strategies of Islam-State Interactions in Republican Turkey’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, 28: 231–251. Dalacoura, K. (2006) ‘Islamist Terrorism and the Middle East Democratic Deficit: Political Exclusion, Repression and the Causes of Extremism’, Democratization, 13: 508–25. Davidson, A. (2003) ‘Turkey, A ‘‘Secular’’ State? Challenge of Description’, South Atlantic Quarterly, 102: 333–50. Duran, B. (2001) ‘Transformation of Islamist Political Thought in Turkey from the Empire to the Early Republic (1908–60)’, unpublished Ph.D Thesis, Bilkent University, Ankara. —— (2004), ‘Islamist Redefinition(s) of European and Islamic Identities in Turkey’, in M. Ugur and N. Canefe (eds) Turkey and European Integration, London: Routledge. —— (2006) ‘JDP and Foreign Policy as an Agent of Transformation’, in M.H. Yavuz (ed.) The Emergence of a New Turkey: Democracy and the Ak Parti, Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Duran, B. and Yıldırım, E. (2005) ‘Islamism, Trade Unionism and Civil Society: . The Case of Hak-Is Labour Confederation in Turkey’, Middle Eastern Studies, 41: 227–48. Emerson, D.K. (2004) ‘A Year of Voting Dangerously?’, Journal of Democracy, 15: 94–108. Gole, N. (1995) ‘Authoritarian Secularism and Islamist Politics: The Case of Turkey’, in A.R. Norton (ed.) Civil Society in the Middle East, Leiden: E. J. Brill. —— (1997) ‘Secularism and Islamism in Turkey: The Making of Elites and CounterElites’, Middle East Journal, 51: 46–58. —— (2000) ‘Snapshots of Islamic Modernities’, Daedalus, 129: 91–117.

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—— (2006) ‘Islamic Visibilities and Public Sphere in N. Gole and L. . in Islam,’ . Ammann (eds) Public: Turkey, Iran and Europe, Istanbul: Istanbul Bilgi University Press. Gu¨l, A. (2001) ‘Turkey: Key Policy Challenges’, paper presented at The Wilton Park Conference, February 2001. —— (2003) The Washington Institute For Near East Policy, 25 July. Hadiz, V.R. (2004) ‘The Rise of Neo-Third Worldism? The Indonesian Trajectory and the Consolidation of Illiberal Democracy’, Third World Quarterly, 25: 55– 71. Hefner, R.W. (2000) Civil Islam: Muslims and Democratization in Indonesia, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Hermann, R. (2003) ‘Political Islam in Secular Turkey’, Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations, 14: 265–76. . Hikmet, H. (1924) ‘Ic¸timaiyatta Muhafazakarlıga Nic¸in Muhtacız’, Sebil-u¨r Resad, XXIII, 589: 264–65. Hu¨rriyet (2000) ‘Bolucuyle AB’nin Istekleri Ortusuyor’, Hu¨rriyet, 13 January. Huxley, T. (2002) ‘Disintegrating Indonesia? Implications for Regional Security’, . Adelphi Paper 349, London: IISS. Ismail, S. (2004) ‘Being Muslim: Islam, Islamism and Identity Politics’, Government and Opposition, 39: 614–31. . . Kara, I. (1998) Seyhefendinin Ru¨yasındaki Tu¨rkiye, Istanbul: Kitabevi. Khan, M.A.M (2001) ‘The Political Philosophy of Islamic Resurgence’, Cultural Dynamics, 13: 211–29. . . Kısaku¨rek, N. (1986) Ideolocya Orgu¨su¨, 5th edn, Istanbul: Bu¨yu¨k Dogu. Kuru, A. (2005) ‘Globalization and Diversification of Islamic Movements: Three Turkish Cases’, Political Science Quarterly, 120: 253–74. Lubeck, P.M. and Britts, B. (2002) ‘Muslim Civil Society in Urban Public Spaces: Globalization, Discursive Shifts, and Social Movements’, in J. Eade and C. Mele (eds) Understanding the City: Contemporary and Future Perspectives, Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Mahc¸upyan, E. (2003) ‘Demokratik Muhafazakarlık ve Demokratlık’, Zaman, 24 August. Mardin, S. (2005) ‘Turkish Islamic Exceptionalism Yesterday and Today: Continuity, Rupture and Reconstruction in Operational Codes’, Turkish Studies, 6: 145–65. Monshipouri, M. (1997) ‘Islamism, Civil Society and the Democracy Conundrum’, The Muslim World, LXXXVII, 1: 54–66. Mujani, S. and Liddle, R. W. (2004) ‘Politics, Islam and Public Opinion’, Journal of Democracy, 15: 107–23. Ottoway, M. (2004) ‘Democracy and Constituencies in the Arab World’, Carnegie Papers, 48. Ozdalga, E. (2006) ‘The Hidden Arab: A Critical Reading of the Notion of ‘‘Turkish Islam’’’, Middle Eastern Studies, 42: 551–70. Radikal (2001) ‘AB Hristiyan Klubu’, Radikal, 14 January. Remnick, D. (2004) ‘Going Nowhere’, The New Yorker, 12–19 . July: 74–83. . Sarıbay, A.Y. (1994) Postmodernite, Sivil Toplum ve Islam, Istanbul: Iletisim. Shadid, A. (2002) Legacy of the Prophet: Despots, Democrats, and the New Politics of Islam,. Boulder, CO: Westview. Sunar, I. and Toprak, B. (1983) ‘Islam in Politics: The Case of Turkey’, Government and Opposition, 18: 421–41.

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Takeyh, R. and Gvosdev, N.K. (2004) ‘Radical Islam: The Death of an Ideology? The Causes behind the Fall’, . . Middle East .Policy, 11: 86–95. Tu¨.rkone, M. (1994) Siyasi Ideoloji Olarak Islamcılıgın Dogusu, 2nd edn, Istanbul: Iletisim. White, J.B. (2002) Islamist Mobilization in Turkey, Seattle and London: University of Washington Press. Wickham, C.R. (2004) ‘The Path to Moderation: Strategy and Learning in the Formation of Egypt’s Wasat Party’, Comparative Politics, 36: 205–28. Willis, M.J. (2004) ‘Morocco’s Islamists and the Legislative Elections of 2002: The Strange Case of the Party That Did Not Want to Win’, Mediterranean Politics, 9: 53–81. Yavuz, M.H. (2000) ‘Cleansing Islam from the Public Sphere’, Journal of International Affairs, 1: 21–43. —— (2003) Islamic Political Identity in Turkey, Oxford: Oxford University Press. —— (2004) ‘Is there a Turkish Islam? The Emergence of Convergence and Consensus’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 24(2): 213–232. —— (2005) ‘The Transformation of a Turkish Islamic Movement: From Identity Politics to Policy’, The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 22: 105–11. —— (2006) ‘Introduction’, in M.H. Yavuz (ed.) The Emergence of a New Turkey: Democracy and the Ak Parti, Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Yeni Binyıl (2000) ‘Zirveye Sozde Demokrasi Uyarisi’, Yeni Binyil, 28 August. Zubaida, S. (1997) ‘Is Iran an Islamic State’ in J. Beinin and J. Stark (eds) Political Islam, London and New York: I. B. Tauris Publishers. —— (2004) ‘Islam and Nationalism: Continuities and Contradictions’, Nations and Nationalism, 10: 407–20. Zu¨rcher, E.J. (1999) ‘The Vocabulary of Muslim Nationalism’, International Journal of the Sociology of Language, 137: 81–92.

2

Problematizing the intellectual and political vestiges From ‘welfare’ to ‘justice and development’ Ahmet Yıldız

Introduction The 3 November 2002 general elections yielded unusual results for Turkish politics. While the Felicity Party (Saadet Partisi-FP), which represented the National Outlook Movement (NOM) and was regarded as having strongly Islamist views made a very poor showing (2.5 % of the total votes), the Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi-JDP), a year-old breakaway party1 and which was considered conservative or moderately Islamist, received 34.3 % and earned 363 of a possible 550 seats in the parliament.2 Coming in the wake of the so-called 28 February process during which the public faces of Islam were exposed to the most severe repressive measures by the civil-military state elites, the weak electoral performance of the FP prompts the following two observations: 1 Turkish voters tend to adopt religious identity as a social common denominator and therefore distance themselves from political Islam; 2 In so doing, they do not reject the fact that Islam has a public face, but rather prefer that it asserts itself at the individual and social levels, rather than in the political realm. What made it possible for the JDP to emerge victorious in the general elections was that in recognizing the two aforementioned tendencies, the party made revisions to its political image, discourse, membership and transformed—rhetorically and practically—its ideology. The party thus reassured both the people and the bureaucratic elites of its ‘trustworthiness,’ despite the fact that it had emerged from the ashes of the Welfare Party (Refah Partisi-WP) and Virtue Parties (Fazilet Partisi-VP)—parties that were closed down for their supposed anti-secularity. Moreover, the majority of the JDP’s grassroots members and deputies are practicing Muslims whose spouses observe hijab. It should be noted, however, that despite the high religiosity of its members, the JDP leadership constantly emphasizes its adherence to the ideological creed of the Republic and claims to be a conservative democratic party, not an Islamic one. This is

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the mark of distinction that secured the ‘legitimacy’ of its political governance. Still, the religious observance of the JDP’s members and their political background, as well as the party’s shift to democratic conservatism, invites several questions. How did the transformation in the tradition of the NOM begin? Is this transformation structural or superficial? What are the parameters of this change? Is the JDP an Islamic party or a party founded by practicing Muslims? What does this distinction signify? How does the JDP differ from the NOM? Is this differentiation reversible or well established? Can we call this differentiation a new type of Islamism? Finally, how can we evaluate the question of change in the image markers of the tradition of the NOM, perennially referred to by the republican laicists? Is this an example of takiyye (hidden agenda) on the part of the party, or has the JDP betrayed the cause of the NOM? This article will deal with these questions.

What’s in a Name: The JDP’s Political Identity One of the main questions surrounding the JDP is the nature of its underlying political ideology.3 The JDP’s electoral success is attributed to the support of different segments of society, ranging from the urban poor to the agricultural sector and the new Anatolian entrepreneurs. According to leading Muslim intellectual Ali Bulac¸, however, what brought the votes of all these segments under the umbrella of the JDP is their allegiance to a religious and conservative identity, a kind of ‘new’ Islamism that is never spelled out but which passes as conservative democracy (Bulac¸ 2003: 11–12). Since the 1850s, Islamism has been rooted in the fabric of Turkish society. It continues to be one of the determinants of Turkish politics, introducing some changes into society while it itself undergoes an evolution of its own (Bulac¸ 2003: 12). From today’s vantage point, Islamism is something essentially historical and hence susceptible to mundane change and the JDP is an integral part of this process. Islamism under the guise of ‘conservative democracy,’ however, also carries the JDP towards the center-right of Turkish politics, embodied by the Democrat Party (Demokrat Parti-DP), Justice Party (Adalet Partisi-JP) and Motherland Party (Anavatan Partisi-MP). Actually, the appellation of ‘new Islamism’ does not capture the deeper and more structural nature of ideological and political change reflected in the posture of the JDP. The change in the party may be more properly characterized by its co-optation of the democratic creed. R. Tayyip Erdogan, the leader of the JDP, has on various occasions stressed that the JDP is a center-right party. At the time the party was first being formed, one of Erdogan’s politically important visits was to Su¨leyman Demirel, the former President and center-right leader. This dual position of the JDP is an indication of the fact that Turkey’s center-right, with its religious, liberal and conservative components, has found itself a new watercourse. This has

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contributed significantly to the marginalization of traditional religious movements and groupings of NOM, and other center-right parties. Erdogan expresses this state of affairs as follows: Definitely, among us there are newcomers to politics who have ties to the old political parties. But we left those ideological attires outside when we formed this party. We are the inheritors of the Democrat Party and embrace 70 million people. JDP is not the front, back or continuation of any party. (Anatolia News Agency (AA), 2003, May 16) The JDP, with the majority of its party activists, many of its parliamentarians, and a bulk of its voters, is the inheritor of the NOM. At the same time, with its ideological discourse, an important part of its parliamentary group, and a certain segment of its voters, it occupies a center-right position in the political spectrum. With its liberal discourse, the party has managed to target the political, economic and cultural elites. Thanks to the image of its leader, R. Tayip Erdogan, as ‘one of the have-nots’ from Kasımpasa (a poor district of Istanbul) who has made it to the top by sheer stamina and will power, it has captured the sympathy of ordinary voters. Its Islamic color reflects the common denominator of its supporters rather than being an ideological vision. Islam is not the ultimate determinant for either the JDP or its voters, a fact that makes confrontation with the state elites very uneasy for the JDP leadership and organizational cadres. Thus, the challenge for the JDP is to translate the values and preferences of its constituency to the political center and reflect them in accordance with the premises of the so-called ‘conservative-democracy’ without making itself vulnerable to charges of political Islamism. The first thing to do is thus to separate the NOM and the Muslim vote and reject the identification of religion with any political party. Secondly, this shift has run parallel with the adoption of liberal economic policies characterized by less populism and more ‘economic rationality,’ a very radical departure from National Outlook’s state-dominated planned economy, the ‘just order.’ Thus, there emerged a politically and economically liberal, culturally and socially ‘conservative’ political party in tune with US aspirations in the region. This combination of political identities embodies many conflicting components and necessitates a delicate balancing act by the leadership. Communicating with the people in the language of conservatism, extending the hand of compromise to the Kemalist governing elites with emphatic allegiance to the principle of secularism, and approaching the West by championing the cause of EU membership all require a careful balancing by a strong leadership that should exhibit features of independent strategical reasoning, sincere adherence to declared political ideals, and consistency in pursuing policies. These features dominated the JDP’s leadership in its first three years in power and gave it the legitimacy to rule both in the eyes of

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suspicious Kemalist elites and of western power circles, as well as the society at large. In search of a democratic vision in political terms, while putting emphasis on conservatism socially, the components of the JDP’s political identity embody a set of dynamic contradictions. The question thus becomes, in carving out a new place for itself on the political spectrum, why did the JDP choose to devise a new political concept—conservative democracy—that does not exist in the political literature? JDP outsiders use a variety of names to reflect how they conceive of the party: Islamic, Islamist, political Islamist, moderate Islamist, Muslim democrat, conservative, democratic, and center-right. The party, on the other hand, defines itself as conservative democratic and claims to pursue a service-based rather than identity-based politics. In this context, ‘conservatism’ does not signify the maintenance of the status quo, it rather denotes a political understanding open to change but sensitive to certain societal values and traditions, religious or otherwise (AK Parti Genel Merkez AR-GE Baskanlıgı, n.d., p. 4). Thus, the parameters of conservative democratic political identity are spelled out as follows: a gradualist approach to change; an understanding of politics as an art of compromise rather than conflict; recognition of the national will as the source of political legitimacy; a conception of the state as arbitrator; and support for pluralism and the rule of law (AK Parti AR-GE, n.d., pp. 4–6; Temel Kavramlar 1, n.d., pp. 85–92). The appellation ‘conservative democracy’ is considered by many students of Turkish politics to be a misnomer. There is no such concept in the literature (Uluslararası Muhafazakarlık ve Demokrasi Sempozyumu [International Symposium on Conservatism and Democracy], 2004, passim). Moreover, according to Ali Bayramoglu, a Turkish journalist and academic, it is not merely a misnomer; it is also unfair to the reformist oriented constituency of the JDP, that tries to carve out new opportunity spaces and freedoms against the backdrop of an authoritarian establishment while being engaged in a struggle to democratize politics and modernize the Islamic sector.4 Muslim thinker Ali Bulac¸ raises an important objection to the use of this concept by arguing that no one has the right to apply this ‘ungainly’ name to Muslims as a political identity. It is a label intended to secularize Muslims and integrate them into the prevailing system, robbing them of the capacity for dissent and opposition in exchange for small benefits for a tiny Muslim business group (Bulac¸ 2006). However, it has also been argued that, though the concept may be newly forged, it is a positive development for Turkish politics to be able to discuss the concept and the associations around it (Uluslararası Muhafazakarlık ve Demokrasi Sempozyumu, 2004, passim). In reality, however, the JDP’s discursive shift is of little importance, because conservatism itself as an ideology and movement in Turkey has also

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shifted far from its sociological and historical sources because of its particular way of indigenization in the hands of Islamically sensitive political elites. What matters is the JDP’s political practice, its way of doing things. Its location on the political spectrum and the identity it represents, as explained above, corresponds to the current perspective of Muslim democrats. The leadership cadres of the JDP come from within the political and cultural environment of NOM; their power derives from voicing the concerns of the new Muslim entrepreneurial class (Harputlu 2003: 15). The adoption of conservative democracy as the new political identification in many ways resembles the adoption of the ‘nationalist-moralist’ banner by the past parties of the NOM to achieve political legitimacy. Likewise, the conservative democratic identity is basically a tool of political legitimacy. This search for political legitimacy appeals to three ‘target groups:’ 1 Turkish voters by emphasizing native sensitivities; 2 Western public opinion by utilizing a Western ideological language that has no problem of legitimacy; 3 the Kemalist power block by repeatedly repudiating any links with political Islam. This last message has two important components: first, an emphatic declaration of allegiance to secularism and second, a revisionist attitude based on the rejection of laicism in the sense of forced secularization imposed by the state (Yıldız 2004: 54). In conclusion, conservative democracy as the JDP’s chosen descriptor is in fact a back-handed reference to the problematic identity which the party might have liked to have assumed if it had been left to its own free will. However, since its birth and survival conditions are closely monitored by the secular establishment led by the powerful military, it did not feel it had much choice. As such, it is possible to claim that the JDP does not and cannot represent a guiding ideology for the party and in the party.

The JDP and the ‘New Islamism’ As represented by the NOM, the basis of Islamic political identity in modern Turkey is opposition to the West and the Westernization process. Many students of Turkish politics believe that Islamic identity still holds a unique place in determining the JDP’s political posture, although this position is open to transformation.5 However, the ruling JDP arose out of the movement’s evolutionary bifurcation as it revisited and redefined this antiWesternism, remaking the end-product into a source of political legitimacy. In exploring the relations between the JDP and Islamism, there are three points of departure in this article: its party cadres; program and discourse; and practice. After dealing with the first two points consecutively, I will

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dwell upon the last point later in the final part. If we begin with its membership, the majority including its grassroots has an Islamic past that makes them particularly sensitive to matters related to Islam.6 The second factor, the party program of the JDP, is very important and in many ways unique in Turkish politics. It is heavily influenced by the values of the post-Cold War era, the so-called ‘new world order’—or globalism, democracy, human rights and free market economy being the leading values. This liberal aura creates a clear contrast to the political discourse of the NOM. However, the fact that the JDP proposes liberalism as its basic framework for creating solutions to Turkey’s problems does not mean that the JDP is completely alienated from the tradition from which it comes. Since the JDP is the product of its members’ past experiences and argumentations that marked the evolution of the NOM, its Islamic connection is beyond question, a connection that some analysts label ‘new Islamism,’ for lack of a better coinage. The so-called new Islamism is not power-centered in the way the NOM was: For the NOM, acquisition of political power was the key to all social transformations and Islamic aspirations, while this is not the case for the JDP. Drawing upon the experience of the Welfare Party, which held power from 1996–97, the JDP radically revised its view of what political power can mean and accordingly stopped conceiving of society as a passive object of unilateral transformation. Thus, Islamization is not to be achieved through the state. The state is important only in opening new spaces for individuals and society as a whole by assuring basic rights and liberties. The state should not impose its ideology on society. New Islamism aims to engage in politics on the basis of social legitimacy and socio-economic compromise. Change is achieved by liberating societal dynamics and allowing them to be reflected in politics. In this respect, the JDP leans towards liberal values because in the eyes of the leadership, it is these values that can free society from the clutches of the state. The JDP is thus reminiscent of the economic leadership of Turgut Ozal’s Motherland Party, although it transcends that party in terms of the scope of its political liberalism. With respect to world politics, the New Islamism reflects a reevaluation that sees civilizational dialogue between the Islamic and Western worlds as essential, a radical contrast to the conflict-ridden cold war perspective that considered the clash of civilizations as something intrinsic to world politics.7 Globalization and the values it cherishes have become a constant point of reference for the JDP leadership; the European Union has emerged as its embodiment. Domestically, instead of indulging in the politics of ‘othering,’ the new Islamism, by using non-religious political language, develops a culture of political compromise, which explains why the JDP leadership has refrained from political polarization and consequently distanced itself from insisting on resolving the issues that could generate strong polarization, such as the problem of university students wearing hijab. In short, the JDP is an incarnation of the new Islamism, more or less in line with ‘the moderate Islam’ promoted by the United States after 9/11. It is a radically transformed

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version of the National Outlook—what may be rightly called its rationalization under the global imperative (Canatan 2003: 27). John Esposito observes that the process of change represented by the JDP points to the fact that mainstream Islamic movements in many Muslim countries are capable of adapting themselves to such issues as democratization, pluralism and women’s rights (Esposito 2005: 58). In this regard, Mukhdetar Khan too sees the JDP as a case of reconciliation between democracy and Islamic identity and management of the tension between secular authoritarianism and Islamic fundamentalism by peaceful means. What is sui generis in this case is the JDP’s ability to command the respect of Muslim public opinion while simultaneously championing the cause of EU membership and establishing an enduring cooperative relationship with the West (Khan 2005: 43). Graham Fuller espouses the same view that the JDP cannot be considered an Islamic fundamentalist party, because it preaches freedom of conscience rather than aiming to make Islamic practices compulsory. The issues that can be cited under the rubric of curbing state interference in religious practice, i.e., wearing of hijab and permitting graduates . of the religious schools known as Imam-Hatip Okulları to have the right to attend college, along with maintaining its roots in the NOM and its sensitivity to Islamic traditions, are not to be understood as ‘fundamentalist’ attitudes, since the party also advocates democratization, liberalization of politics, and EU membership (Fuller 2005b: 23–24). . Ihsan D. Dagı also uses the term ‘New Islamism’ for the JDP’s conservative democracy, calling the JDP a post-Islamist party, which maintains its Islamic credentials on social issues, but abandons Islam as a political program (Dagı 2005: 34). Besides, with its pro-Western, liberal and democratic orientation, the JDP cannot be called Islamist; rather it represents a new articulation of coexistence between Islam and the West (Dagı, 2005: 34) which is historically unique. The Islamists view democratization as their first priority, believing that it can provide legal cover and legitimacy for their political existence, guarantee basic religious rights, and promote social and political networking (Dagı 2004: 149). Ironically, this alliance allows the Islamists to couch their opposition to the authoritarian Kemalist power apparatus in secular terms and relieves them, at least psychologically, of the ethical burden of exercising state power. (Dagı 2004: 149–50). For Dagı, the opportunity cost of this alliance, however, is important: Islamists have had to say goodbye to the idea of an Islamic state. According to Hakan Yavuz, this choice is a manifestation of the Kemalist political system’s ability to moderate and even co-opt political Islam despite the fact that extra-judicial means were used to secure this co-optation, as exemplified by the 28 February process (Yavuz 2005: 106). What Dagı calls ‘post-Islamism’ is termed by others as ‘‘the shift from the politics of identity to the politics of services’’ (Yavuz 2005: 107). The JDP, in keeping with global developments that favor neo-liberal economic and political values, has proven to be a party of service rather than a party of identity. Its emphasis on what it is not for (i.e., Islamic

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identity) and its appeal to secular rationale rather than to religious justifications for its policies testify to the fact that it is not an Islamic party (Yavuz 2005: 107–11).

From the National Outlook to the Justice and Development The leader of the NOM, Necmettin Erbakan, has constantly claimed that it is the Felicity Party that represents the National Outlook, and the JDP has nothing to do with it. Based on his words, one is thus justified in saying that the JDP is not the heir of the Welfare-Felicity Party line, but rose to prominence as a reaction to it. As a breakaway party, it drew a different route for itself in the political arena.8 Erbakan’s unwavering loyalty to the FP after Erdogan and his associates established the JDP raises the question of which party truly represents the NOM. The FP claims that they are the real heirs of the movement, see Anatolian News Agency (A.A) (2003). It would be correct to claim that the main causes of the JDP’s drift away from the NOM are closely linked to the polarizing discourse of Necmettin Erbakan, the leader of the NOM, who has insisted on a sharp distinction between the partisans of the NOM and the others. This has narrowed the movement’s vision and exposed it to ideological parochialism. Its confrontational style led, in the final analysis, to yielding to the demands of the bureaucratic elites and Western powers, including the USA and Israel.9 Unlike the polarizing discourse of the NOM parties Erbakan chaired, the JDP adopted a posture of compromise, used secular political jargon, accepted religious visibility only in individual and social realms, highlighted its non-Islamism, and declared the headscarf an issue of minor importance.10 Party representatives did not problematize the exclusion of their spouses from official ceremonies; they worked coherently with the IMF; and despite sporadic ups and downs, continued the strategic alliance with the US and Israel. Thus, the JDP’s stay in power was not severely delegitimized by the secularist elites, nor was it accused of having a hidden agenda to establish Islamic sharia until its entrenchment into governmental apparatus became relatively stable. Measured against the JDP’s changed profile, the NOM is firmly identified with the personal image of its founding leader, and appears, at first, not to have changed for over 30 years. Yet in reality, the opposite is true. In the 1970s, the NOM was formed with the dual goal of achieving material and spiritual development. The concept of the NOM had both national and religious connotations. Due to this double connotation, the movement’s branches in Europe were often perceived as parts of an extreme nationalist movement and not a religious one. While the name of the National Outlook’s first party, the National Order, reflected an emphasis on order (Nizam), the second one of the National Salvation Party stressed the spiritual dimension of life (Selamet) and the third, the Welfare Party, prioritized

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economic development (Refah) and took as its motto ‘the just order’ (adil du¨zen). The names of Virtue and Felicity that followed chronologically are also derived from the founding statement of the National Order Party. After the military intervention of February 28 which brought down the coalition government led by Necmettin Erbakan, the Welfare Party and its successor, the Virtue Party, were closed down by the Constitutional Court, leading to a division within the movement. The disputing factions turned into two different political formations, the Virtue Party (VP) which claimed to be the authentic party of the National Movement, and the JDP, which emphatically refused any ties with it. In the context of political change, the question here is whether the JDP’s change is viewed as an ‘accredited change’ by the ruling elites. For those who espouse the Kemalist-centric approach, the JDP is a masked version of the National Outlook. They accuse the JDP of trying to cheat the public by pretending to be secular (Alkan 2005). More importantly, tending to securitize political issues, the secular elite voice their opposition to the existence of the JDP in security terms. For them, the JDP is even more dangerous to the regime than the other parties of the National Outlook. In liberaldemocratic circles, on the other hand, the JDP’s public allegiance to secular democratic standards is often taken at face value. They assess the JDP’s ascent to power as a clear cut example of the operation of the democratic process that contributes to the deepening and consolidation of Turkish democracy. (Heper 2006: 345–61). The Kemalist position which rejects that the JDP has undergone political change is correlated with their implicit assumption that change is intrinsically good. The basic secularist assumption is that everything related to the NOM has Islamic associations and therefore lies outside the scope of mundane change. The JDP is no exception, and so, the argument runs, its claim of change is the manifestation of an insincere, masked position (takiyye). Removing this mask must be the first priority of both state and society. The previous methods of struggle used by the establishment against the parties of the NOM should be applied equally to the JDP, that is to say, extra-judicial intervention, politicization of the judiciary, and mass mobilization via collaboration with media. Hard line secularists have considered the JDP as counter-revolutionary and tried to besiege it. President Ahmet Necdet Sezer epitomized this strategy by his rejection of the government appointments in the higher echelons of the public bureaucracy including the autonomous Higher Education Board (YOK) and by declaring the recruitment of judges and public prosecutors by the government, a practice dating back to 1930s, illegal. In order to reach a meaningful conclusion in this debate about change, the JDP’s trajectory of change should be put in the context of the evolution of the parties of the National Outlook by comparing their programs. A fundamental fact which emerges is that change in the National Outlook has corresponded to the trajectories of Turkey’s capitalist development as mediated by the domestic political discourse (Sen, 2004, passim). During its

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first years, the parties of the NOM—basically the National Order and the National Salvation Parties—advocated social and economic policies that were more or less consonant with the policy of import substitution industrialization. However, since the early 1990s, they have evolved towards the adoption of a free market economy well integrated with the world economy and a changed view of state and society. The programs of the FP and JDP have taken this change to its logical conclusion, although the FP reinserted a modified National Outlook discourse into its program while avoiding subscribing to its generalizations with absolute certainty. Unlike the FP, the JDP broke from the classical National Outlook with no possibility of return in many policy areas. While NOP, NSP and WP programs are more or less the same, VP-FP and JDP programs differ from the previous ones in meaningful ways. In particular, the JDP’s program exhibits liberal-conservative traits rather than being a program paraphrasing the National Outlook creed. Also, we must note that, governmental experiences at both the national and local level yielded changes within the National Outlook (Sen 2004: 12–13). The objectives to be reached and the sources of legitimization are basic dimensions of change that can be discerned within the NOM. The parties of the classical National Outlook creed, beginning with the NOP (26 January 1970–20 May 1971) and extending to the FP (20 July 2001–) preached material and spiritual development through the creation of an indigenous civilization structured on opposition to imitation of the West and to being included in the Western club. They placed a high value on the preservation of national character, customs and tradition. These parties used the national and spiritual values as sources of legitimacy and regarded the state as the bulwark of the national cause. The parties of the revisionist second period (from 1998 on) of the National Outlook hint at the emergence of new sources of legitimacy and frames of reference. Although they maintain discursive continuity with the first period to some extent, these parties preach integration into the world economy, i.e., global capitalism and the free market economy. The source of legitimacy is no longer a state organized around national and spiritual values. In place of this subjective and moral conception of the national state, an objective, non-moral and interest-based aim of developing good relations with all world states on the basis of bilateral interests is adopted. Policies are no longer based on the glorious past and/or national and spiritual values, but on the national interest as defined by the imperatives of the free market economy. National interest becomes diverse, not homogeneous. However, the state is seen as bounded by the international context, whose norms were established by such treaties and organizations as the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the European Charter of Human Rights, the Paris Charter, the OSCE, and the Helsinki Final Charter, all of them emanating from what the previous generation of the National Outlook would have termed non-legitimate Western civilization. Accordingly, the position of the state is limited to the role of preserving individual liberties.

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The discourse of strengthening civil society is particularly striking in the programs of this latter period which stipulate that the state should stop intervening and exerting unilateral power. Instead, individual freedoms should be protected from the intervention of the state, a task to be eased by the forces of civil society. Alongside the tendency of the governing secularist elites to securitize politics, international treaties/declarations and universal standards have become the standard sources of political legitimacy for the second generation NOM parties. There has thus emerged a political perspective based on an understanding of national interest that grants individual liberties a central position vis-a`-vis the state by taking universal standards as a binding framework. This tendency reaches its peak in the JDP program. The difference between the NOM parties of the first and second generations can also be observed at the discursive level, in the political language and concepts. While heavy industrialization, material and spiritual development, national planning, national civilization, the glorious past, justice, the national consciousness, and national morality constituted the ‘root paradigms’ of the National Outlook, the parties of the revisionist genre adopted such new concepts as globalization, a realist foreign policy, international competition, free market economy, privatization, foreign investment, reform of the bureaucracy, the strengthening of local administrations, democracy, human rights, liberties, civil society, universal standards and civilizational dialogue. In sum, the change in question is not necessarily and exclusively a voluntary change but one encouraged by structural conditions. The neo-liberal policies pursued by the JDP in both the economy and politics have had an irreversible impact; they cannot be dismissed as ‘tactically motivated.’ These policies dictate that for Turkey to become a member of the EU, it must be both secular and democratic. The JDP, particularly in its first three years in power, has championed this cause. Therefore, the JDP’s ideological posture can be called many things but not the Islamist of the first genre. The essentialists who claim that the National Outlook cannot change are in fact indulging in wishful thinking that can best be translated as ‘‘it must not change, otherwise we will lose the present position that favors our vested interests.’’ Ironically, this position is also reproduced by the founding leader of the National Outlook, Necmettin Erbakan, from the contrary perspective. Erbakan argues for the axiomatic certitude of the National Outlook11 and, in the last analysis, falsifies the JDP’s election victory: ‘‘The nation voted for the JDP because of the consideration that it represented the National Outlook. As a matter of fact, these votes were cast for the National Outlook’’ (Canatan 2003: 23).

Intersection of Islamic Sensitivities and Secular ‘Red’ Lines In this section, I consider the various manifestations of the intersection of Islamic sensitivities and the secular ‘red lines’ in the JDP’s policies. These include, national and religious education, issues pertaining to the practice of

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Islamic law (the status of women and the social construction of gender, hijab, adultery, consumption of alcohol in public places, religious marriage and oath taking), and the regulation of religious affairs by the state.12 Education The JDP’s approach to public education is not so nationalist and paternalist as it is in the classical conception of the NOM. The emphasis on nationalism has been maintained but not based on ethnically determined heroic speculations (JDP Program: 4). Education is conceived as an instrument serving the JDP’s understanding of nationalism in terms of raising the level of modernity, globalization, and orthodox economic rationality. Free market economy becomes a major factor in the determination and application of educational policies. The JDP’s policy of expanding opportunity spaces and removing the restrictions put in place by the secularist polices for the religious segments of society fuels hot debates between and among Turkey’s political elites and traditional state elites. The heated debates around such issues as eight-year compulsory education, Prayer Leader and Preacher Schools, and the activities of the Board of Higher Education have been phrased in mild and indirect language. Allowing parents some discretion in their choice of primary and secondary schools, securing equality of opportunity for the graduates of religious schools in the highly competitive university entrance examination, and reiterating the constitutional position as regards obligatory lessons on religion and ethics in state schools are the programmatic commitments of the JDP. In practice, however, the government and the Board of Higher Education which is the constitutional body set up in 1981 to coordinate the university system are at loggerheads. All the measures the JDP has tried to implement regarding the Board have been annulled by the Council of State (Danistay). Women and Family Planning Although the parties of the NOM have been against family planning and birth control, the JDP emphasizes family planning in its party program. It advocates that people be informed and helped to make conscious choices about family planning. The JDP preaches the active participation of women in social and political life and has proven extremely sensitive in condemning honor killings. Two concrete manifestations of this attitude were the prescription of a heavy life sentence in the new penal code for such killings and the adoption of positive discrimination for women in the retirement process. The Ministry of Education organized a campaign to increase girls’ literacy under the slogan, ‘‘Let all girls to school.’’ The government also ratified CEDAW (Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women) and reflected a real concern for the elimination of legislation

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that prescribes discrimination against women. In its policies towards women, the JDP has adopted an entirely different position from all the other parties of the NOM. Unlike the issues pertaining to the status of women, however, the JDP perpetuates the same position as the NOM with regard to family. The JDP’s efforts to introduce adultery as a crime in the new Turkish Penal Code in 2004 triggered a fierce opposition and led to the withdrawal of the relevant clause.13 A new measure introduced to protect the nuclear family was the establishment of family courts. Consumption of Alcoholic Beverages in Public Another discussion in 2004 arose around the consumption of alcoholic beverages in public places. The secularist elite turned it into a litmus test for the allegedly Islamist intentions of JDP.14 The issue stemmed from the renewal of an old regulation, dated 1999, that stipulated the conditions for granting licenses to sell alcoholic beverages and determined the places where the consumption of alcohol was allowed. Unlike the old regulation, which had given all authority to local bureaucrats, the new regulation empowered municipal and city-county councils to grant liquor licenses and determine the public places for legal consumption of alcoholic beverages. The secularist opposition tried to present the sometimes disputable applications of this regulation as expressions of the JDP’s ill-will revealing its secret Islamist agenda. The fact that the consumption of alcoholic beverages is forbidden by Islamic law is considered an adequate justification that the consumption of alcoholic beverages should be free.15 This is an example of the dominant secularist approach of relegating social practices carrying Islamic meanings to the private realm, to be kept strictly between the individual and God. Secularism This point is of utmost importance because all the parties of the NOM except the present ones have been closed down on grounds of anti-secularity. The classical understanding of secularism within the NOM envisages religion in the service of objectives espoused by the state and interprets it as a means of relieving the grievances of religious Muslims. The parties of the second generation NOM shifted to a new definition: secularism as a principle of social peace. This genre, by neutralizing the state vis-a`-vis the religious beliefs prevailing in the society and prohibiting the expression of any religious belief in public policies, charged the state with the duty of preparing the ground for personal and communal practice of religion confined to the individual and social realms. The JDP’s party program puts the principle of secularism under the section of ‘Basic Rights and Liberties’ and states that it is a necessary condition for democratic governance. It deems it wrong to interpret secularism

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as animosity towards religion and considers it a guarantee of religious liberties and freedom of conscience. Thus, secularism assumes a primal importance, rather than an instrumental one. Democratization of the militant practices of laicism is the JDP’s primary concern. In preaching this, however, it tries to avoid a confrontational posture and considers compromise an essential tool of policy-making, which explains, to a certain extent, its retreats on such policy initiatives as removing the ban on headscarves in universities and securing equal opportunities for the graduates of religious schools in the university entrance exams. As for the obligatory religion and ethics courses prescribed by the 1982 Constitution in state schools, the party merely states its commitment to the Constitution in this regard, without resorting to any ideological discourse. The basic distinction that JDP makes in terms of the public role of Islam is that it is not the religion itself but religious people who should be deemed as the legitimate political actors. Nationalism One basic dilemma of the JDP is the way it positions itself vis-a`-vis nationalism. Religious Turkish nationalism has been a fundamental attribute of the NOM. It conceives of the nation as a homogeneous entity united around the Islamic creed and defines ‘the other’ as non-Muslim and non-Turkish alien forces that may erode the national values. The common objective the NOM tradition shares with official Kemalist nationalism is the glorification of the Turkish state. However, it differs on the means to attain this goal. The unification of the nation around the national consciousness through strict commitment to spiritual values is the NOM’s formula for salvation and material-spiritual development. Unlike the NOP and the NSP, the WP paid lip service to Ataturkist nationalism, apparently reflecting the atmosphere of the post-September 12 coup. Yet, the WP followed the NOM tradition of nationalism based on the glorification of the Ottoman-Islamic past and spiritual values. The point of breakdown in this line of nationalism came with the VP’s abandonment of religious nationalism. The successor, the FP, has also had a mixed position with respect to nationalism. On the one hand, it reiterates the glory of the nation for the national self-definition. On the other, it refers to the diverse communities that constitute the nation and spells out the distinct rights of these communities in accordance with international norms. The determination of foreign policy priorities, as spelled out in the party programs of the FP, and especially of the JDP, revolve around a ‘rational’ national self-interest and the dictates of the international political environment, i.e., real politics, without any legitimation on the ground of the glorious past and ‘Islamic brotherhood.’ The JDP has made a more pronounced breakaway from the holistic conception of nationalism of the NOM line of thought. The party emphatically rejects nationalisms based on religion, ethnicity and regionalism. Taking

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pluralism as its underlying motto, it strongly proposes citizenship/civic consciousness as the defining feature of nationality. This territorial understanding of nationalism differs from both the cultural nationalism of the NOM and the prevailing ethnicist understanding of nationalism.16 It considers the cultural diversity of ‘the southeast’ as a source of richness that can contribute to the entrenchment of civic consciousness, defining national identity in relation to Turkish citizenship without making any reference to ethnic roots of a certain kind and hence strengthening societal bonds. After assuming the power until the acceptance of Turkey as a candidate country by EU in December 2004, the JDP has exhibited a precarious posture on the issue of nationalism by preferably using a vague language. In order to tame the opposition of statist-nationalist circles, the JDP sided with the ever-lasting ethnic management policies towards the Turkish Kurds. No concrete attempt was made to deal with Turkey’s ‘Kurdish question.’ This passive nationalism that has gained the upper hand, especially following the start of accession negotiations with EU, has ended in the wake of the assassination of Hrant Dink, an Armenian Turkish journalist on 19 January 2007. Since then, Erdogan, the leader of the JDP, has started using more emphatically civic and territorial elements of nationalism by identifying nationalism with serving the fatherland, and overtly condemning the ethnic Turkish nationalism (Anatolia News Agency (AA), 2003, 3 February). This territorially defined, pro-civic nationalist discourse has got an urgent test in the public discussions of the infamous article 301 of the Turkish Penal Code that penalizes insulting ‘Turkishness.’ The concrete results of this discussion remain to be seen. Foreign Policy The foreign policy conceptions of the NOM are also based on Islamic nationalism. Muslim nations as a cluster are considered one realm united against the imperialist and might-worshipping West. A Muslim UN, a Muslim Common Market under the leadership of Turkey and the current league of D-8 countries are projections of this imagery. This culturallycentered understanding of foreign policy which is based on a leading role for Turkey in the Turkic-world was abandoned by the post-February 28 parties of the NOM. The VP again represents the breaking point. It dropped the notion of ‘leader not satellite Turkey’ and adopted a multilevel approach more sensitive to power balances and interest calculations and generally proEuropean. The JDP systematized the same approach by championing the cause of EU membership and securing for Turkey the status of a candidate country. While it pursued for the first time more active and dynamic policies toward the Arab Middle East and severely criticized Israel’s expansionist policies, it retained strategic relations with Israel and the US. The JDP foreign policy has proven to be highly pro-American, despite the fact that there is much ‘anti-Americanism’ not only on the popular but

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also establishment level, including the military. The Turkish parliament’s refusal to allow US soldiers to use Turkish territory as a logistical supply corridor to Iraq in March 2003 was linked with the US policy towards Iraqi Kurds and the PKK. The US policies in northern Iraq turned this region into a safe haven for the PKK in de facto terms and contributed much to the rise of anti-American nationalist feelings in Turkey. The policies of the JDP government has not turned in an anti-American direction however, except for some rhetorical criticisms leveled against US foreign policy in the Middle East by the JDP leadership. The US support of Turkey’s EU integration process and the JDP’s unvoiced need for the political legitimacy to be sanctified by the world’s major power are two underlying motives behind the JDP’s pro-American political positioning. The JDP’s Cyprus policy rests on the notion of finding an internationally accepted solution for the unification of the island and departs from the wellestablished Turkish state policy that views the status quo is the most preferable option. Together with its policy towards the Caucasus, the JDP adopted a Euro-Asian perspective in its foreign policy approach, revolutionizing both the classical NOM and Turkish state policy preferences. As Fuller has aptly suggested, the JDP’s foreign policy posture represents a newfound independence while reemphasizing its ties with the Muslim Middle East—but this time, motivated not by abstract idealizations but by more rational interest equations that do not forget Arabs just because they are Muslims (Fuller 2005a: 36). The counter-claim that the JDP has accelerated anti-Americanism in Turkey and aims to Islamize Turkey by pursuing an ‘Islamist foreign policy’ seems to stem from a worldview that requires absolute subservience to the US and EU’s post-9/11 agenda and deems any manifestation of Islamic sensitivity a reflection of the JDP’s alleged hidden agenda (see C ¸ agaptay 2006).

Conclusion The JDP is an offspring of the National Outlook tradition. Nonetheless, its breakaway from this tradition has contributed much to its electoral success. Although from the very beginning, the JDP leadership emphatically rejected the ‘Islamist’ appellation, the outside world and an important segment of Turkish voters continued to associate it with some kind of Islamism and considered the JDP’s refusal of this label merely a defense mechanism. The JDP’s Islamism, however, is quite different from that represented by the existing Felicity Party—a difference welcomed by a large segment of voters. This is a graphic indication of the existence of many diverse currents within the Islamic movement. The JDP’s pioneering role is very visible in its nonstatist, Muslim democratic posture. According to this posture, what is important is not to hijack state power but to democratize it predicated on the notion that a democratically structured state apparatus will guarantee a safe living space for Muslims in socio-cultural and economic terms.

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The JDP is a concrete manifestation of the capacity of Turkey’s Islamic movement, particularly of the NOM, to change politically not just in structure but also in content. The JDP’s acceptance of civil society as the basic realm of visibility for religion and its abandonment of the state-centric Salvationist approaches is a radical breakaway. The fact that the leader of the JDP, R. Tayyip Erdogan, has repeatedly emphasized that both democracy and religion are tools for attaining human happiness points to a democratic conception of life based on a certain understanding of agnosticism prone to political as well as cultural pluralism. Erdogan’s individualistic approach to religion is well captured in his statement that ‘‘Islam is my personal reference. My political reference is democracy.’’18 The JDP tried to legitimize the demands of religious segments of voters in legal terms while trying to refrain from politicizing religion by identifying it with a certain political party. Erdogan’s pluralist understanding of human happiness helps us put his instrumental-looking ascription to religion into a democratic perspective. The JDP’s rejection of the reification of Islamic identity as the party identity does not mean, however, to secularize life in social and personal realms. Islamic identity is forced to be a relative variable that may affect political realms within the process of democratic politics. The JDP’s hyper-adaptation to global capitalism, its strict commitment to the precepts of liberal economy, its redefinition of the matrix underlying the relations between politics and Islam, its insistent efforts to democratize the authoritarian nature of Turkish secularism, and its careful avoidance from a possible collision with secularist forces that may lead to ‘a modern or postmodern coup’ turn the JDP into a perplexing puzzle for the secularist forces of Turkish politics which have been trying to make life difficult for the government. However, the pace of reform of the JDP has lagged behind, because of the liberal-nationalist bifurcation within the party. This divide between liberal and nationalist elements on the level of political leadership has created backlashes in its EU policy, as seen after the start of negotiation talks, a process that can be termed ‘the EU fatigue.’ Issues regarding non-Muslim Turkish minorities and Kurdish ethnicity as well as Kurdish nationalist movements were dealt with in essentially non-reformist, nationalist methods and considerations. In many respects, the presidential elections in May 2007 and its aftermath constitutes a litmus test for the JDP itself and for the consequences of the JDP’s experience in Turkish politics.

Notes 1 The National Outlook Movement has been the most powerful representative of political Islam on the democratic scene since the early 1970s. The establishment and closure dates of the parties of the NOM are as follows: Milli Nizam Partisi (National Order Party), 26 January 1970–20 May 1971; Milli Selamet Partisi (National Salvation Party), 11 October 1972–12 September 1980; Refah Partisi (Welfare Party), 21 September 1983–16 January 1998; Fazilet Partisi (Virtue Party),

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6

7 8

9

10

11

Ahmet Yıldız 17 December 1997–22 June 2001; Saadet Partisi (Felicity Party), 20 July 2001; Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (Justice and Development Party), 14 August 2001. It is important to note that all the parties of the NOM have been closed down either by the Constitutional Court or military coups. For the 2002 general election results, see: www.tuik.gov.tr/VeriBilgi.do (accessed 8 August 2006). For the JDP’s official formulation of its ideology, see Y. Akdogan (2003) Muhafazakar Demokrasi, Ankara: AK Parti. The author is a close advisor to the Party leader Recep Tayyip Erdogan. See International Symposium on Conservatism and Democracy, 10–11 January 2004, AK Parti Publication, 225–29. See, for example, 2002 Sec¸imleri Isıgında Tu¨rk Siyasetinde Egilimler, (2004) ¨ BA, 11. Those who tend to identify everything that might have any Ankara: TU Islamic coloring as Islamist are more inclined to claim that the JDP’s conception of Islamism does not matter because either fundamentalist or moderate, Islamisms of all kind share the same objectives. Therefore, Islamism per se is the main threat to the western world. One of the most graphic examples of this extremely instrumentalist approach is represented by D. Pipes, a neo-conservative hard-liner. Pipes argues that the JDP is different only in its means not in its ends from the notorious Taliban. If it were in full control of political power, it would hijack the secular regime. This is mere wishful thinking based on ‘mind reading’ (see Pipes 2003). According to E. Ozbudun, the JDP is a derivative of the NOM that represents party-form political Islam in Turkey. One concrete manifestation of this state of affairs is that all the leading figures of the party, including the Prime Minister Recep Tayip Erdogan, have been involved in politics within the ranks of the NOM (see Ozbudun 2004: 10). The voters’ profile of JDP is quite different from ¨ SES, only 27.4 this picture, however. According to a survey conducted by TU percent of the JDP voters came from the former Virtue Party (VP) supporters, an indication that the majority of the voters of VP voted for parties other than JDP. The profile of JDP voters according to their former party affiliation is as follows: 21.9 per cent from Nationalist Action Party; 9.2 per cent from Motherland Party; 7.3 per cent from True Path Party; and 6.9 per cent from Democratic Left Party (see Ozbudun 2004: 20). Prime Minister Erdogan is the co-president of the UN Project of the civilizational dialogue and was chosen ‘man of the year’ in 2004 in Europe. Nimet C ¸ ubukc¸u, the state minister responsible for women and family affairs, restates the differentiation of the JDP from the National Outlook with a similar viewpoint (see Poyraz 2006: 224–25). The ninth President Su¨leyman Demirel too is of the conviction that JDP is a breakaway party from the tradition of the NOM (see Poyraz 2006: 226). This was exemplified in the expanding scope of the strategic alliance between Turkey, USA and Israel in 1997, and in the setting up of a Crisis Center by the office of the Prime Minister that gave the ultimate say to the military in cases of the management of emergencies. For example, Deputy Prime Minister Mehmet Ali Sahin, by claiming that the proportion of those who attach importance to the issue of headscarf is one and a half percent, drifted to an extreme position, which generated strong reactions. See ‘Sahin’e AKP’lilerden Tepki’, Milliyet, 25 May 2006. ‘Necmettin Erbakan’, Interview by G. Saylan, Cumhuriyet, 9 June 1991. The negative perception of change in ideological terms is linked to the understanding that the National Outlook is a specific articulation of Islam and hence cannot be historicized. As Erbakan points out: ‘‘The National Outlook mentality is based on some basic principles. As a matter of fact, these basic principles are determined in accordance with human rights. They refer to the basic rights of state and citizen.

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14 15

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In other words, they are incorporated both in the old and new constitutions. The National Outlook has always remained the same in terms of its fundamental principles.’’ See ‘Necmettin Erbakan’, Interview by H. Bengi, Yankı, 18 November 1985. When asked if it has changed its position vis-a`-vis entrance to the EU following the establishment of the Virtue Party, Erbakan replied: ‘‘We have not changed, the EU has changed.’’ See Milliyet, 29 July 2000. Erbakan’s methodological logic cannot be falsified. Therefore it can be labelled as purely a metaphysical consideration that has nothing to do with JDP’s policy pragmatism. For a critical evaluation of the process of transformation under the JDP rule, see C ¸ ınar 2006. For the repercussions of the debate around the clause of adultery see, among others, (A.A). Saadet Partisi Genel Baskan Yardımcısı . Kurtulmus: Muhafazakar Bir Parti Olmasına Ragmen, Zina Ak Parti Iktidarında Suc¸ Olmaktan C ¸ ıkarılmıstır [Adultery has been permitted although the party in power is a conservative one], 29 April 2005; (A.A). CHP Grubu . . . . Genel Baskan Baykal: ¨ yelik Mu¨zakerelerinin (4) Tu¨rkiye’nin 17 Aralık’ta Tarih Alması, AB Ile U Baslaması Anlamına Gelmeyecek [The Fact that Turkey would be given a date for the candidacy will not mean the starting of the membership negotiations], 24 September 2004; (A.A). SHP Genel Baskanı Karayalc¸ın: Sayın .Basbakan, Du¨n Yaptıgı Goru¨smede Konunun Gu¨ndeme Gelisini Ve AB Ilgililerinin Tutumlarını Hic¸bir Tereddu¨de Yer Kalmayacak Sekilde Ac¸ıklamalıdır [The Chairman of the Social Democratic Populist Party, Karayalc¸ın: the prime minister should disclose the way the issue was handled in yesterday’s meeting and the attitude of the EU parties concerned], 07 September 2004; (A.A). Adalet Bakanı C ¸ ic¸ek: TCK Tasarısı,. Yu¨ru¨rlu¨kteki Ceza Kanununa Nazaran C ¸ ok Daha Demokrat, C ¸ ok Daha Insan Merkezli Ve Ozgu¨rlu¨kleri Teminat Altına Alan, Kendimize Mahsus, Ozgu¨n Bir Yasadır [The draft bill of Turkish Penal Code is more democratic, more human-focused, more liberty-oriented and sui generis than the ¨ zerine Tartısmalar . . . Ankara Barosu present one], 07 July 2006; (A.A). Yeni TCK U . Avukatlarından Aydın Erdogan: Fasist Italya Doneminin Ceza Kanunundan Alınan Devlete Karsı Suc¸lar Bolu¨mu¨, Yeni TCK’da Agırlastırılarak Korunmustur [Discussions on the new penal code: Aydın Erdogan, a lawyer from the Ankara Bar Association: The chapter concerning the crimes against the state which has been taken from the Italian penal code of the fascist period has been kept with added emphasis], 29 April 2005. For a counter perspective that criticizes the secularist elites’ position regarding the consumption of alcohol as a symbol belonging to the western hemisphere of civilization, see Mert 2005. For the discussions on the alleged prohibition of the consumption of alcoholic beverages in public places . . see, among others: Anatolian News Agency (A.A). . I. c¸isleri Bakanı Aksu: Ic¸kili Yer Bolgelerinin Daraltılması, Kaldırılması, Ic¸ki Ic¸menin Yasaklanması Gibi Bir Uygulama, Du¨zenleme Kesinlikle Soz Konusu Degil [There is no such thing as banning of consumption of alcohol or narrowing down or removal of the . places where alcoholic beverages are consumed], 08 December2005; (A.A). Ic¸ki Yasagı . . . -Ankara. Barosu Baskanı Cosar, Bu¨yu¨kse. . . . hir Ve Ilc¸e Belediyelerinden, Ic¸ki Yasagıyla Ilgili Bilgi Istedi-Belediyeleri Ic¸ki Yasagının Hukuka Aykırı Oldugu Yonu¨nde Uyaran Cosar, Uygulamanın Kaldırılmaması Halinde Dava Ac¸acaklarını Bildirdi [Ban over alcohol . . . the President of the Ankara Bar Association Cosar, demands information on the ban over alcohol from greater municipalities and city . municipalities], 08 December 2005; SHP’li Yula: AKP Bu¨tu¨n Kurumlarıyla Islamcı Yasam Tarzını Dayatıyor Ve Dogallastırıyor [Yula from SHP: JDP imposes islamic way of life with all its ¨ sku¨dar Belediye Baskanı rules and makes it natural], 12 December 2005; (A.A).U . C ¸ akır: Hic¸bir Yere Ic¸ki Yasagı Getirmedik, Hic¸bir Alkollu¨ Yeri Kapatmayacagız

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¨ sku¨dar: We set no ban on alcohol. We will not close any [C ¸ akır, the Mayor of U place where alcohol is publicly consumed], 08 December 2005. 16 For a passionate discussion in the plenary assembly as regards the appellation of Turkishness as defined in reference to nationality conceived in politico-ethnic visa`-vis territorial-civic terms, see TBMM Tutanak Dergisi, 22. Donem, 4. Yasama Yılı, 31. Birlesim, 14 December 2005. Available online at: www.tbmm.gov.tr/ develop/owa/tutanak_sd.birlesim_baslangic?P4 = 15585&P5 = B&PAGE1 = 38&PAGE2 = &web_user_id = 3520541 (accessed 7 September 2006). 17 ‘Din de Arac¸tır, Demokrasi de.’ Radikal, 08 December 2005. See also Ozkok 2000.

References Adalet Ve Kalkınma Partisi Tu¨zu¨gu¨. (2003). Available online at: www.akparti.org.tr (accessed 5 March 2003). Adalet Ve Kalkınma Partisi Sec¸im Beyannamesi. (2003). Available online at: www.akparti.org.tr/beyanname.doc (accessed 5 March 2003). Adalet Ve Kalkınma Partisi Acil Eylem Planı. (2003). Available online at: www.akparti.org.tr (accessed 5 March 2003). Adalet Ve Kalkınma Partisi Programı. (2003). Available online at: www.akparti.org.tr (accessed 5 March 2003). AK Parti (n.d.). Siyasal Kimlik, Egitim Modu¨lu¨ El Kitabı 2, (n.p., n.d.). AK Parti (2004). Uluslar arası Muhafazakarlık ve Demokrasi Sempozyumu (International Symposium on Conservatism and Democracy), Istanbul: 10–11 January. Akdogan, Y. (2003) Muhafazakar Demokrasi. Ankara: AK Parti Yayını. . Alkan, T. (2005) ‘Sanki Laikmis Gibi Goru¨nmeye C ¸ alısmanın Gayreti Ic¸inde Olmak’, Radikal, 17 November. . Anatolian News Agency (A.A). (2003) ‘Necmettin Erbakan’ın SP’nin Ikinci Kurulus Yıldonu¨mu¨nde Yaptıgı Konusma’, July 20. ¨ c¸u¨ncu¨ Neslin Siyaseti, AK Parti ve Modeli’, Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, Bulac¸, A. (2003) ‘U 1: 4–12. . Bulac¸, A. (2006) ‘AK Parti ve Iktidarını Nic¸in Elestiriyoruz?’ Available online at: www.bilgihikmet.com (accessed 25 May 2006). C ¸ agaptay, S. (2006) ‘Islamists in Charge’, Wall . Street Journal Europe. Canatan, K. (2003) ‘AKP Baglamında Yeni-Islamcılık’, Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, 1: 22–27. C ¸ ınar, M. (2006) ‘Turkey’s Transformation Under AKP Rule’, Muslim World, 96: 469–86. Dagı, I.D. (2004) ‘Rethinking Human Rights, Democracy, and the West: Post-Islamist Intellectuals in Turkey’, Critique: Critical Middle Eastern Studies, 13: 135–51. Dagı, I.D. (2005) ‘Transformation of Islamic Political Identity in Turkey: Rethinking the West and Westernization’, Turkish Studies, 6: 21–37. Esposito, J. (2005) ‘The Clash of Ignorances: The War on Terror Must Not Compromise Muslim Rights’, The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 22: 56–59. Fuller, G.E. (2005a) ‘Freedom and Security: Necessary Conditions for Moderation’, The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 22: 21–28. Fuller, G.E. (2005b) ‘The Erdogan Experiment in Turkey is the Future’, The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 22: 60–67. Harputlu, A. (2003) ‘Bir Politik Durum Olarak Mu¨slu¨man Demokrat’, Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, 1: 13–16.

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Heper, M. (2006) ‘A ‘‘Democratic-Conservative’’ Government. by Pious People: The Justice and Development Party in Turkey’, in M. Abu-Rabi Ibrahim (ed.) The Blackwell Companion to Contemporary Islamic Thought, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Khan, M.A. (2005) ‘Islamic Democracy and Moderate Muslims: The Straight Path Runs through the Middle’, The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 22: 39–50. . Mert, N. (2005) ‘Ic¸ki Meselesi ve ‘‘Hadi’’lerimiz’, Radikal, 11 December. Ozbudun, E. (2004) 2002 Sec¸imleri Isıgında Tu¨rk Siyasetinde Egilimler, Ankara: ¨ BA. TU Ozkok, E. (2000) ‘Tayyip Erdogan’ın Oyu Kime, Hu¨rriyet, 27 March. Pipes, D. (2003) Policy Watch, Washington Institute. Available online at www.washingtoninstitute.org/templateC05.php?CID = 1624 (accessed 8 September 2006). Poyraz, F. (2006) ‘Tu¨rk Siyasal Yasamında Milli Goru¨s Hareketi’, unpublished ¨ niversitesi Sosyal Bilimler Enstitu¨su¨, Ankara. doctoral dissertation, Hacettepe U Saadet Partisi Program (2003) Available online at: www.saadetpartisi.org.tr (accessed 5 March 2003). Saadet Partisi Sec¸im Beyannamesi. (n.d.) Available online at: http://168.144.80.212/ library/includes /beyanname.htm (accessed 5 March 2006). Temel Kavramlar 1, Demokrasi, Laiklik, Milliyetc¸ilik, Muhafazakar Demokrasi. (n.d). Ankara: Kim Yayınları. . Sen, S. (2004) AKP Milli Goru¨sc¸u¨ mu¨? Parti Programlarında Milli Goru¨s, Istanbul: Nokta Kitap. Yavuz, M.H. (2005) ‘The Transformation of a Turkish Islamic Movement: From Identity Politics to Policy’ American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 22: 105–11. Yıldız, A. (2004) ‘Muhafazakarlıgın Yerlilestirilmesi ya da AKP’nin ‘‘Yeni Muhafazakar Demokratlıgı’’’, Karizma, 7: 53–56.

3

The emergence of Turkey’s contemporary ‘Muslim democrats’ Kenan C ¸ ayır

With the coming to power of the Justice and Development Party (JDP) in 2002 and the subsequent visits of the leader, Tayyip Erdogan, to European capital cities in the immediate aftermath of the elections, a new political program was unveiled. What is both surprising and somewhat ironic about it was that the JDP cadres who were presumed to have affinity with Islam in one way or the other—a political stance excluded by republican definitions of Europeanization (read modernization)—emerged as the major actors seeking to take the country to the European Union. Their enthusiasm for becoming a member of Europe was also supplemented by the JDP’s public discourse comprising universal values such as human rights, democracy and the rule of law. What was even more interesting in the Turkish context is that many of the JDP’s politicians were former members of the National Outlook Movement (NOM), an Islamic political movement with a strong anti-Western/European stance which was represented by several political parties in the last 35 years of parliamentary politics in Turkey. The Welfare Party (WP) of the NOM held power as the major partner of a coalition government between 1996 and 1997 only to be forced to resign by the pressure of the National Security Council’s decision on 28 February 1997 calling for a clamp down on reactionary Islam. In the name of Islamic universality rivaling that of the Western one, the Welfare Party’s rhetoric sought to provincialize and particularize the claims of the West and thus of the Kemalist project in Turkey. In what came to be known as the February 28 Process, the Welfare Party was closed down and the National Outlook Movement split into two groups: ‘traditionalists’ headed by the former Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan and ‘reformists’ led by Tayyip Erdogan. Criticizing the polarizing discourse and party politics of the NOM, the ‘reformists’ broke their ties with the movement and, in 2001, formed the Justice and Development Party which no longer identifies itself within an Islamic framework, but characterizes itself as pursuing a political program called ‘conservative democracy.’ Accordingly, the JDP politicians declare that they have ‘‘taken off their National Outlook shirt’’1 and unlike their earlier polemics of the NOM years, they seem to take a much more non-confrontational stance on controversial

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issues including the ban on wearing headscarves in public schools and universities in Turkey. Nevertheless, the formation of the JDP, along with its members’ declaration of a definitive break with the past Islamic political trajectory has initiated an often acrimonious debate among both Islamic and secular circles. Some Islamic circles, particularly continuing NOM sympathizers, accuse the JDP politicians of a ‘bitter betrayal’ of da’wa (Islamic struggle), describing their claims of transformation and moderation as submission to the secularist and Westernist establishment (Alan 2004a). Several secular circles, on the other hand, convinced of the hidden Islamist agenda of the JDP politicians, question the possibility and sincerity of this transformation and the new discourse. Secular-minded people, as one columnist expresses it, contend that the transformation of the JDP is not convincing: Since it happened so fast and so radically . . . what happened to those who for so long have sought to establish sharia, so that they are now for democracy? . . . Those who have stated that ‘they have changed,’ have not yet provided satisfactory answers to the questions as to why have they changed so fast, and what were their past mistakes?’ . . . Could they explain the ideological, social, historical and philosophical dimensions of this transformation? (Alkan 2004) These are not really irrelevant questions when it is considered that Islamic actors, including many current JDP politicians did indeed voice a critical discourse on Western conceptions of modernity and democracy in the 1980s and even beyond. Therefore, transformation of their discourse in terms of adopting a reformist agenda as a prerequisite for being a full member of the EU is found unconvincing. However, both the secular and Islamic critics of the new discourse of the JDP share the major shortcoming of falling into the trap of essentialism. Since the Islamic critics of the party embody the claim that Islam presupposes an alternative order to modern Western/ Kemalist secular democracy, the JDP actors’ approach toward modern universal values then is represented as a ‘betrayal of Islam.’ Secular critics of the JDP, on the other hand, employ the similar assertion that Islam has certain inherent characteristics that are incompatible with democratic and secular values and they treat any public manifestation of Islam as a ‘conscious step’ toward the realization of an Islamic order. The moderate tone of new Muslim politicians for them is no more than cosmetic. Both positions, Islamic and secular, posit that Islam has certain prediscursive structures of meaning that determine the positions of Islamic actors. This essentialism disregards the relationality and temporality of Islamic movements and fixes the meaning of Islam and positions of Islamic agents. Islamic movements as a social and political practice can not be studied in isolation from the processes of modernization and democratization of

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Turkey. Nor can they be analyzed through the totalizing categories of Islam and democracy disregarding the varying agency positions of Islamic actors. The central argument of this article is that Islamic movements are in a process of transformation in Turkey and that this transformation is carried out in interaction with secular and modernist groups and not confined to the political sphere but extends to other ‘non-political’ realms as well. The article seeks to analyze this argument by answering a general question: how do Islamic actors rethink, revisit and reassess their position regarding fundamental issues and practices in interaction with modern, democratic and secular values. The article contends that the emergence of the JDP and its new discourse can best be understood within the wider context of Islamic revival and transformation in the relational context of the last 30 years of Turkey. But this history is not a straitjacket. Therefore, the article builds its arguments focusing not solely on the Islamic political discourse per se but on the intellectual and literary representations of Islam and the Islamic actors’ conceptions of democracy and modernity in two periods: what I call the ‘collective Islamism’ of the 1970s and 1980s, and the ‘self-critical Islamism’ of the late 1990s to the present. The JDP is to be considered as the product of the emergence of self-critical voices in Islamic circles in the last two decades. The voices of new Muslim actors, including the JDP politicians distinguish themselves from the earlier collective interpretations of Islam and open a path for a transformation from an ‘Islamist’ to a ‘Muslim’ subjectivity.

1970s and 1980s: Collective and Oppositional Essence of Islamism Contemporary Islamism appeared on the public agenda in Turkey in the 1970s and became influential in the 1980s with its political party, civil associations, economic organizations, and cultural products, written and visual. The fact that Islamic actors came from mostly the first or second generation urbanized families and that they were mostly university students suggests that Islamism was the re-evaluation or reformulation of Islam by these new actors in a particular way because of the huge leap in urbanization and educational facilities in Turkey. What differentiated Islamism from Islam, and an Islamist from a Muslim was that the former categories referred to a new consciousness and new agencies involving a desire to reshape the modern world according to Islamic principles, while the latter signified (at least in Islamist discourse) a more passive historical and cultural stance on the part of the religion and its believers. Although it is often cited as a single term, ‘Islamism’ cannot be conceived in a monolithic form in Turkey as it has always involved diverse groups, aims and interests. The National Outlook Movement, founded in 1970, represents an Islamic movement which was active in politics and aligned itself during elections with several traditional Sufi or non-Sufi Islamic groups. However, there have existed more radical circles rejecting the voting process and party

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politics just as there have also been many Islamic groups that usually voted for right-wing and nationalist parties. Some Kurdish Islamic groups condemned Turkish nationalism on the grounds that it was characterized by Turkish Islamism. In time, this diversity proliferated with the rise of selfcritical voices, as in the case of the JDP. Following the success of the 1979 Iranian revolution and in the politicized context of the 1980s when politics in Turkey regained some space and confidence after the 1980 coup,2 diverse Islamic groups shared a common conviction and denominator: Turkey and the Muslim world were losing their Islamic essence and the world in general was heading toward destruction because of the ill effects of Western modernity, capitalism, materialism and secularism. In almost all Islamic texts of the 1970s and 1980s, the West—through its modernity—was conceived as a homogenous entity that not only exploited the Muslim third world but also led to moral degeneration in terms of giving rise to individualism, nudity, pornography and other social problems.3 Islamic agents in the Turkish context took a confrontational stance not only against the West but also against Westernizing Kemalist agents who were accused of identifying modern civilization with Western civilization and thereby leading to the decline of Islam in Turkey. For Islamic actors, Kemalist modernization and its secular tenets led to the negative stigmatization and exclusion of Muslim agents from society, while at the same time paving the way for the rise of a ‘materialist’ and ‘degenerate’ civilization. Islamism in this sense refers to a program problematizing Western modernity as well as its Kemalist version and searching for an Islamic response by Islamic actors. Although there were many nuances in the responses of different Islamic groups, several shared characteristics can be delineated in the context of the 1980s. The Islamic intellectuals’, literary figures’ and politicians’ rhetoric of the period promoted a discourse sharing three common themes. First, Islam was repositioned as an action and belief system ‘in opposition to’ Western capitalism and socialism. Second, Islam was presented as essentially providing ‘the absolute truth’ and a ‘good life’ leaving no spaces for other life options. Third, Islamic identity was imagined in ‘collective’ terms in relation to a homogenously constructed ‘secular/westernist other.’ The Islamic intellectual rhetoric of the 1980s revolved around a claim to formulate an authentic Islamic response that was ‘distinct’ from Western ideologies. This search in itself signifies a new politicization and ideologization of Islam as it compares it with capitalism or socialism rather than with other traditional religions. Ali Bulac¸’s seminal work (1987) as one of the earliest and most influential manifestoes of Islamism theorized ‘real Islam’ in contradistinction to capitalism, Marxism, fascism and secularism.4 Several . other Islamic thinkers of the period such as Abdurrahman Dilipak and Ismet Ozel also took a similar position at a discursive level in devising an ‘Islamic route’ distinct from Western ideologies (Gu¨lalp 1997).5 As a result, Islam is positioned as an ideology that has the potential to offer an

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alternative value and meaning system to the one generated by the Western and Kemalist visions of the world. This suggests that the Islamic debate in the 1980s framed itself within an ‘oppositional’ posture against the West and Kemalism and developed interactively vis-a`-vis the West and Kemalism. Islam in the last instance was repositioned as a ‘rival ideology’ to Kemalism. One of the best illustrations of the Islamic intellectual ‘response’ in this period is encapsulated in Bulac¸’s response to Nilu¨fer Gole’s book, Modern Mahrem (The Forbidden Modern) (1991). Gole studied Islamism from the perspective of headscarf-wearing university students who, in her analysis, symbolized the cross-fertilization of Islam and modernity with their newly acquired agency positions, self-reflexivity and individuation. Therefore, the mahrem that signified the veiling of Islamic actors was indeed a ‘‘Modern Mahrem.’’ Bulac¸ on the other hand responded to this title by arguing that as Islam and (Western) modernity were two contradictory paradigms, the two terms, ‘‘Modern Mahrem’’ could not coexist. The term ‘‘Modern Mahrem’’ for him was an oxymoron. On this basis, he offered to revise the title by demarcating it with an ‘and:’ ‘‘Modern and Mahrem’’ since these two referred to completely different worldviews and value systems (Bulac¸ 1992: 76–78). What is striking here is that Bulac¸ in his article does not only object to Gole but also takes a critical stance to Islamic actors, in particular, to veiled women, who follow modern consumption habits and forms of equality. Therefore, he does not deny the interaction of Islamic actors with patterns of modernity. What he does is to envision a distinctive and pure Islamic imaginary demarcated from the Western one with an ‘and.’ The differentiation of Islam from Western frames of reference with an ‘and’ was not only elaborated by Islamic intellectuals but extended into the discourses of other actors, in particular into Islamist novelists and their literary field. Islamic novels of the 1980s, which emerged synchronously with the rise of contemporary Islamic movements, represent a parallel stance to that of intellectuals. These novels (called salvation novels in Islamic circles) signify Islamic authors’ desire to challenge Kemalist secular/westernized narratives of civilization through a literary medium. The narrative of salvation novels is based on a ‘negotiation/interaction’ between Islamic and westernized orientations of the world. These two worldviews are inscribed into the text through ‘idealized’ Islamic characters and ‘stereotypically degenerate’ secular/westernized characters. The wretchedness of these westernized characters is explained by their modernity in the form of (Kemalist) westernization that leads them to live a life in which Islamic codes of veil, prayer, gender segregation, and sobriety are not observed. Westernized characters, mostly girls who are deemed to be living a deeply distressed and exploited life, are made to fall in love with Islamic characters. However, these polarities, representing two ‘incompatible ways of life’ are not allowed to get together until the westernized actors are taught basic Islamic principles by the Islamic characters. When they adopt an Islamic way of life, represented mainly by veiling, these actors are turned into Islamic actors

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conveying Islamic messages to other actors, leading to the promised collective salvation of society. Thus, nearly all salvation novels end up with an identical closure in which almost all actors are led to ‘Islamic salvation’ that signifies the Islamic ideal of the collective transformation of society.6 The Islamic political discourse of the National Outlook Movement in the 1980s can also be understood as a search for distinction from, i.e., an oppositional position and as an alternative stance to Western modernity. Different parties of this movement conceived of the European Union as a Christian club and pursued an anti-European Union policy.7 Moreover, until the closure of the Welfare Party after the 28 February military intervention in 1997, this movement claimed to propose an alternative program called Adil Du¨zen (Just Order). This ideological program involved economic propositions which were based on a critique of capitalism at a macro level and introduced Islamic ethical norms such as social solidarity and the prevention of wasteful expenditures (Gu¨lalp 1999; Yavuz 1997). The NOM’s search for an alternative Islamic stance however did not take place in isolation but rather in interaction with national and international political and institutional contexts. The NOM politicians’ proposal to form a common economic market or defense alliance among Muslim countries signifies Islamic actors’ will to appropriate modern institutions in an Islamisized fashion. What underpinned the assertiveness, confidence and certainty of the antiWestern and anti-system Islamic discourse adopted by the intellectual, literary and political actors of the late 1970s and 1980s was the second trait of Islamic discourse, an ‘essentialist’ understanding of Islam. These actors held a deep belief that Western modernity and technology had reached its limits and exhausted itself. Asian religions such as Buddhism, Shintoism and Confucianism had failed to resist the West; likewise, a ‘modernized’ Christianity and Judaism could not provide an alternative for the emancipation of the world. They thought that Islam, in these conditions, was still a strong alternative with its rich cultural, scientific and artistic background, and more importantly with its ‘undistorted authentic sources’ (Bulac¸ 1990: 25). This assertiveness was translated into the political language of the Welfare Party’s 1991 election slogan: ‘‘When the Truth comes, falsehood is nullified.’’8 Islamic actors’ essentialist claim to derive the notion of Truth (Hak) depended on the Islamic historical past which was invariably limited to the period of Asr-ı Saadet, the time of the Prophet and four Caliphs. It was however extended sometimes to include the Ottoman period by members of the National Outlook Movement. The claim to authenticity through which Islamic actors invoked historical figures and practices and presented them as models for the present and future involves ‘references to past events’ that imply that they are ‘repeatable’ since they are still ‘‘somehow alive at the core of the invariant historical subject’’ (Al-Azmeh 1993: 56). When the Welfare Party won municipal elections in 1994, many mayors instituted what they called, ‘people’s parliaments,’ i.e., the gathering of male residents

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of a neighborhood in a cafe´ with the mayor. This practice was defined as an example of ‘direct democracy’ derived from Caliph Omer’s mode of governing in the early years of Islam (Navaro-Yashin 1998). Such practices allowed Islamic actors to argue that Islam presents solutions superior to secular democracies and that they were the real representatives of society. The claim to authenticity gave the actors a sense of strength and pride to challenge secular conceptions of Western modernity. In addition to the oppositional and essentialist discourse of the Islamism of the 1980s, there was a strong emphasis on ‘collective ideals’ that shaped any individualistic or worldly demand. The novelists of the period depicted the collective ideals of Islamism in their identical happy endings in which everyone was brought to salvation. Islamic actors left almost no space to other non-Islamic actors in their novels or statements. Thus, when Erbakan claimed that ‘‘other parties have voters whereas the WP has believers’’ or ‘‘the Prophet Adam was Welfarist, and all the past prophets were partisans of the WP, as was the Sultan Mehmet II (The Conqueror)’’ (Yıldız 2003: 193), he acted as the political spokesman of collective Islamism of the 1980s. The discourse of the Welfare Party was imbued with statements that aimed at totalizing national identity or developing a coherent Islamic community.9 In sum, Islamic actors in this period invoked a ‘them and us’ discourse that involved a collective representation of Islamic subjects in contradistinction to a similarly homogenized secular identity. The collective Islamism of the period, in other words, defined individual identity as congruent with collective identity and ideals. In almost all Islamic texts of the 1980s, Islamic identity was presented as a harmonious phenomenon that superseded internal divisions in terms of gender, ethnicity and regional variations.10 The important point to note regarding the period is that since actors in an oppositional movement are often reactive rather than particularly self-reflexive and focus on a utopian future rather than the present, differences within the Islamist movement itself were not problematized in the 1980s. The collectivized, oppositional and essentialist Islamism of the 1980s presented Islam as the source of all goodness and the only solution to the ‘degeneration’ brought about by secular Western modernity.

1990s and 2000s: Self-Reflexive and Self-Critical Faces of Islamism The collective and oppositional discourse of Islamic actors does not tell us the whole story about Islamic movements in Turkey. The other side of the story that determined the trajectory of Islamism in Turkey was Islamic groups’ will to participate in public life. Put differently, despite Islamism’s oppositional posture, what characterized Islamism was not a withdrawal from modern life but a collective will to participate in it allowing Islamic actors to be in constant relation with modern forms of life. Ideal Muslim characters in the literary or non-literary texts of Islamism were represented as studying at universities or working in modern professions. Despite the

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call by some Islamic groups to leave school in the face of the headscarf ban, the enthusiasm of headscarf-wearing girls to attend university did not abate; instead, when the ban was strictly enforced, many girls wore wigs. Islamic intellectuals’ plea for ‘‘revolt against industry and technology’’ (Toprak 1993: 237) was influential only at the rhetorical level and did not find echoes among Islamic groups who sponsored the training of their own engineers, journalists and economists as the 1980s moved into 1990s.11 Thus, Islamic actors have acquired modern professions by skillfully utilizing the educational facilities in Turkish context. This process has continued with the formation of an Islamic middle class that began to create new public spaces conforming to certain symbolic requirements of Islamic morality. Newly-founded luxurious Islamic hotels (which provide separate sections for women to swim), movie theaters (which play Islamic and some Western films), Islamic hairdressers (where female employers serve female customers) and Islamic holding companies (where daily Islamic rituals can be practiced) have opened up spaces for new Islamic visibilities. New spaces invited Muslims with slogans of ‘‘now you can swim’’ or ‘‘you can enjoy a peaceful (huzurlu) holiday,’’ (Komec¸oglu 2006a). Cafes owned by the Welfare Party dominated Istanbul municipality provided novel spaces that hosted novel Islamic actors: here were seen ‘‘Veiled girls flicking cigarette ash into the wind, bearded men toting mobile phones, conspicuous consumption in high heels, fashion accessories, silk scarves and new cars’’ (Houston 2001: 87). Islamic cafes underline the novel experiences of actors within an ‘unsegregated publicness,’ i.e. men and women sitting together and enjoying intimacy and romance within ‘Islamic’ limits (Komec¸oglu 2006b: 187). Thus, despite the claims to observe Islamic morality, these new spaces signify a formation of new experiences, influenced and shaped interactively by late modern patterns of life that challenge the earlier Islamist norms, especially the gender politics of Islamism. Because of such new spaces and practices, Islamic debate in the 1990s turned to issues such as Islamic holidays, Islamic entertainment or fashion shows, all of which reflect the formation of an Islamic middle class and pluralization of Islamic actors’ life experiences. In this new context, collective Islamism of the 1970s and 1980s that disregarded ‘internal conflicts’ began to be challenged from within. Collective harmony was first challenged by female actors who had graduated from universities yet were still excluded from the labor market because of their headscarves. Despite their rhetorical emphasis on the domestic role of women, it should be noted that Islamic movements provided women with a vehicle to assert their autonomy and build social networks outside the home (Arat 2005). The empowerment of women by Islamic movements is reflected in the 1990s in the new publications for women as well as special meetings and conferences allowing women actors to rethink and reevaluate their position in Islamic movements and in relation to secular conceptions of

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modernity. Demonstrations and sit-ins of the previous decade were replaced by Islamic women actors’ organizations and civil associations as part of a professional social movement through which they began to appear in international women’s conferences. Female actors criticized not only secular circles but also Islamic groups, and more precisely male actors who, as women argued, still sought to define women by their domestic responsibilities and positions. In the political scene, for instance, women played an important role in the Welfare Party’s electoral success, especially with their voluntary work at grassroots organization. However, the fact that women were not assigned higher positions in the Party led them to ask ‘‘are we really in politics?’’ (Taluk 1995). The Welfare Party was criticized for making use of women before elections but not nominating any women for elected posts. Female actors began to publish new journals such as Kadın Kimligi (Woman’s Identity) in which they questioned both Islamic and secular processes that led to the subordination of Islamic women. Female actors expressed their frustrations and dissatisfaction through stories and novels as well. The 1980s, as mentioned above, were characterized by collective salvation novels in which a collective Islamic identity vis-a`vis a secular one was promoted to help transform the whole society in the name of Islam. However, new experiences and the emergence of new professions for a younger generation of Islamic actors paved the way for the emergence of more self-reflexive novels challenging the collective ideals of the previous decade. In other words, the collective and oppositional discourse of Islamism was reexamined through the literary medium in the face of the new life experiences of the 1990s. The stories of Cihan Aktas in particular narrated the disappointment of educated headscarf-wearing women who were not working outside the home. These women were represented as ‘‘neither rural nor urban, neither housewives nor businesswomen, neither ambitious nor relaxed, neither speaking nor silent . . . neither existing outside the home nor living at home happily’’ (Aktas 1991: 32). In Aktas’s stories, Islamic male actors were criticized for placing the burden of the Islamic movements on the shoulders of women. Much more severe criticisms have been raised by Halime Toros who in her novels represent women squeezed between secularist stigmatization and Islamic sanctification. Her characters resist both those secularists who exclude headscarf-wearing women because ‘‘they do not conform to the requirements of secular Western modernity’’ (Toros 1997: 71), and Islamic groups who ‘‘sanctify women and put a heavy burden on their shoulders because of their headscarves’’ (Toros 1997: 95). She directs her criticism towards Muslim men who, according to her, send veiled women towards the home: ‘‘Muslims with private business companies could not employ their ‘sisters’ fearing that their honor (namus) might be impugned. Muslims working in the public sector used to employ them but re-located them to the farthest rooms of the office’’ (Toros 1997: 104–5). Thus, a recent study on

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headscarf-wearing women demonstrates that many have a deep feeling of injustice since most of them could not make a career despite their sometimes better educational assets in respect to male actors (Sever 2006). However, it was not only female actors who questioned collective Islamism: male actors in new modern professions and operating under the constraints of market forces also began to make their inner conflicts public and explicit in Islamic dailies. For instance, a journalist-humorist commented on his conflict as such: A Muslim is a human being who, as the night does, hides ugly things, and as the sun does illuminates beautiful things. But how can we do this? Let’s say, for example, you are a journalist. [As journalists] all we do is to seek after the hidden agenda behind newspapers and television channels. We are no longer aware of beautiful things. I feel this contradiction on my part. How can a Muslim journalist hide ugly things and illuminate beautiful things (Kac¸an 1997) This account is indicative of how uneasy it is for self-reflexive Islamic actors to develop a coherent narrative that requires rethinking collective Islamic ideals, modern professions and individual worldly desires. When such selfreflexive statements and self-questioning attitudes of Islamic male actors are taken together with those of female actors, it can be argued that the coherent narratives of the 1980s began to dissolve parallel to the acquisition of new social positions by Islamic actors in the 1990s. This process seems to have increased with the coming to power of the Welfare Party in 1996 that signified the culmination of participation of Islamic actors into political life.

The Welfare Party’s Success and the 28 February Process: A Breaking Point? The pro-Islamic Welfare Party’s ascent to power as the major partner of a coalition government in a secular polity which has historically identified itself with disestablishing public manifestations of Islam triggered tense relations between the military, mainstream media, many NGOs and Islamic circles. Indeed, the WP’s first political maneuvers made both its coalition partner, the True Path Party, and the secular Turkish political establishment unhappy (Mecham 2004: 343).12 The WP in a sense ‘awoke’ a deep seated fear in some secular circles and the military that Turkey would diverge from its secular modernization process as Islamists would introduce the Islamic law as the basis of public life. This fear led to the intervention of the military on 28 February 1997 backed by the mainstream media and some civil associations and launched what is popularly referred to as the 28 February Process. The Process resulted in the limitation of public spaces available to Islamic actors. The headscarf was banned in all state as well as private universities

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and even in faculties of theology. Traditional religious brotherhoods were tightly controlled. Transactions of Islamic companies were scrutinized. Shrinkage of opportunity spaces for the Islamic actors, however, has led to a self-reflexive and self-critical attitude rather than to the strengthening of a radical stance in both the WP circles and wider Islamic groups. Islamic intellectuals and columnists noted that the collective and political ideals of Islamism of the previous decades had created an intolerant attitude toward people who criticized Islamic institutions and ideals from within. Ali Bulac¸ who, in the past also invoked an oppositional language of Islamism, began to criticize collective Islamic discourse as the major cause of mistakes made by Islamic groups. According to him it was the dominant Islamic perception that ‘‘any critique of Islamism by a member of the movement serves the interests of the enemies’’ that caused blindness to social and political problems in Islamic circles. His article titled ‘‘Criticism in Our Quarter Demands Courage’’ (Bulac¸ 2000) found an echo among other Islamic groups that posited that ‘‘our quarter is not so different in its mistakes than yours’’ (Gonu¨ltas 2000). For Islamic intellectuals, the dominant ‘them and us’ discourse and the lack of self-criticism led Islamic actors to close their eyes to mistakes and injustices in their own circles. Together with this dominant understanding, the culture of submission and the position of elder members, politicians and authorities were also criticized: ‘‘They know everything, make plans and want you to obey without questioning’’ (Bulac¸ 2000). Besides intellectuals, this self-questioning attitude has also been maintained by literary figures of Islamism. Yagmurdan Sonra, a novel written by a columnist of an Islamic daily (Kekec¸ 1999) narrates the story of the contrasting desires and frustrations of an ex-Islamist man in the aftermath of 28 February Process. Murat, the main character of the novel, is an ex-publisher who now sells stationary. He was a revolutionary character in his university years who aimed at ‘saving the country.’ However, he is presently portrayed as a man facing serious problems in his marriage and business. During the 28 February Process he was taken to court for a book he had published six years ago. In this ‘political environment,’ he questions and revises his past and present life. Several political events that took place during this ‘Process’ such as Erbakan’s visit to Libya are taken up in the novel and criticized by Murat’s secular neighbor. Murat, however, is no longer one of the self-assertive characters of the salvation novels of the 1980s who would take a polemical stance. Unlike the idealist Islamic characters of the salvation novels, Murat goes to cafes and pubs where he makes non-Islamic friends to whom he pretends that doctors prohibit any alcohol consumption by him for medical reasons. He also violates Islamic morality by making his inner-self explicit through his confession as a married Muslim man who finds girls around him attractive. As a self-reflexive and self-questioning character, Murat, the chief character of Yagmurdan Sonra, also directs his criticisms not only to secularist but

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also to Islamic circles. In response to an Islamic publisher’s critique of the 28 February Process, he responds that If the [28 February] Process has gone awry, we should blame it on not only those who initiated it, but also on people like you who prepared the ground for such a process by leading astray the devout majority . . . You pretend to be superior by talking about universal democracy, pluralism and law, while you simply repeat what the high ranking military officials say . . . Why did you not think about these, when you kept selling cheap salvation stories (Kekec¸ 1999:145) Thus, Murat represents a new self-critical character that distances himself from both secularist stigmatizations and earlier collective definitions of Islamism. A recent phenomenon among Islamic circles is the emergence of autobiographical accounts of Islamic actors who critically revise their Islamic past. Mehmet Metiner’s autobiography, a prominent Islamic figure of the 1980s and 1990s, provides an invaluable inner observation of an Islamic actor and his understandings of the period. Metiner, who was a member of the National Outlook Movement in his youth and then served as a consultant to the Welfare Party, can be characterized as one of many newly emerging self-critical figures of the 1990s: We were in a political struggle. We used to believe that working for the party was a requirement of Islamic jihad. We used to call Erbakan hodja, ‘the unique leader of Islamic world’. Our party would come to power, erase all obstacles in front of Islam and reach our goal . . . Our goal was to re-Islamisize society by establishing the Islamic state (Metiner 2004: 47) Metiner then critically reflects upon Islamic party politics, its government experience and the trajectory of Islamic movements in general including the Afghanistan and Iran cases. He states that when in power in different places, Islam is reduced ‘‘to a sole political ideology through authoritarian republican nation states’’ (Metiner 2004: 376). This, according to him, is an example of ‘Jacobin Islamism’ that leaves no space for non-Islamic actors and is not in this sense different from what he calls the ‘secular Kemalist Jacobinism’ criticized by Islamic actors. He confesses that Islamic actors in the 1980s were critical of Western democracy but that this was something ‘‘they had learned from Mohammed Qutb who was neither a political nor a social scientist’’ (Metiner 2004: 216). He then states that he and his friends have now ‘‘given up political Islam’’ and the idea that Islam should aim at capturing the state. ‘‘Islam is not an ideology or religion of a state, and the

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Koran is not a constitution’’ (Metiner 2004: 216). He identifies his new position as a man who is for democracy and ‘democratic secularism.’ What characterize these self-critical Islamic actors is their common references to the inadequacies of the collective, utopian and revolutionary representations of Islamism in the 1980s to handle ‘the real world.’ Praxis often conflicted with and transformed utopian Islamic vision of the past and helped Islamic actors of the 1990s draw lessons from their experiences and revise their life narratives. One such group was the reformists of the NOM movement who founded the Justice and Development Party. The resignation of a younger generation of politicians from the movement was based on the awareness that given Turkey’s secular public configuration, a perennially oppositional and polarizing Islamic discourse cannot remain in power, as illustrated by the closing down of all NOM parties.13 Politicians of the JDP distanced themselves from the NOM with self-critical accounts that they ‘‘have taken off (their) National Outlook shirt.’’ The JDP politicians have moderated their discourses, taken a pro-European Union stance and resorted to the universal language of democracy and human rights. They announced that they have formed not an Islamic but a ‘conservative democrat’ party. Prominent Islamic intellectuals in general welcomed the JDP, which according to them marked the beginning of a period of ‘new Islamism.’ This title appeared in several issues of Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, a journal that emerged in 2003 under the editorial management of Ali Bulac¸ who abandoned the oppositional Islamic stance of the 1980s arguing that in ‘‘the new world order, old discourses have lost their significance. We need a new model that is not conflictive but is reconciliatory’’ (Yu¨ksel 2003). In his column, Bulac¸ began to voice a pro-European discourse and invoke democracy without an overtly self-questioning attitude. He no longer put an ‘and’ that sought to demarcate Islam from modernity or Islam from democracy. Several intellectuals including Yalc¸ın Akdogan (referred as the ideologue of the JDP) debated the concept of new Islamism. ‘New Islamism’ was presented as a repositioning over national and international realities differently from the ‘traditional political Islamism’ of the WP. The main difference between the ‘new’ and ‘traditional Islamism,’ according to Kadir Canatan, a writer of Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, involves a vital conflict over the methods and aims of Islamizing a society: Traditional Islamism aims at transforming society through the state, and thus focuses on capturing state power. . . . [Political] engineers of the Welfare Party including Erbakan saw society as a technical system working like a machine that can be run by the Just Order . . . New Islamism on the other hand has changed its ideological stance as a result of its political experience and it does not anymore see society as an object that has to be transformed (Canatan 2003: 23–27)

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Nevertheless, the JDP’s success in elections and the debate over the transformation of Islamism in Islamic journals and circles did not mean the disappearance of anti-European and collective voices among traditional Islamic movements. The JDP, not unexpectedly, has been more severely criticized by the NOM members, particularly by the columnists of their newspaper, Milli Gazete. Several columnists argue that the transformation of the JDP and Islamic intellectuals were merely part of the process of ‘alienation’ from Eastern values and a re-orientation towards Western ones. Thus, ‘‘the Westernization disease has spread to those who used to have a critical stance to the West’’ (Alan 2004a). The JDP and its Islamic intellectual supporters were accused of devolving from radical Islamism to a ‘‘conservative democracy without Islam’’ (Alan 2004b). Therefore, the position of collective Islamism of the 1980s, based on an anti-Western stance and a ‘them and us’ voice is still maintained by several Islamic intellectuals and groups. However, the rise of overt criticism from within the Islamic groups and the emergence of self-critical novels, autobiographies and new critical politicians and intellectuals signify the heterogenization of Islamism. Thus if the Islamism of the 1980s were monophonic, the present Islamic scene is polyphonic. The JDP represents one of these voices distancing itself from collective representations of Islamism and pursuing consensual politics with the establishment in terms of its reference to modern democratic values and processes.

Conclusion This paper has focused on the medium-term trajectory of Islamic movements and actors in Turkey in the last 30 years in order to elucidate the mutually shaping influences emanating from the Islamic movement itself and the changing conditions in the wider context. Although the JDP has a short history, if this story is put in a ‘relational’ context stretching from the 1970s to the present and focuses on not merely the ‘political’ sphere but on the ‘non-political’ ones including the rise of new self-critical intellectual and artistic voices in Islamic circles, a different understanding of the party may emerge. For instance, many critics argue that it is the 28 February Process— i.e., hard core political forces—that led Islamic actors to adopt a new language and undergo transformation. True enough, this process has been a catalyst for the split in Islamic politics and for the proliferation of selfquestioning attitudes of Islamic actors. However, it was the dominant characteristic of Islamic movements itself, i.e., their worldly stance and their engagements in intellectual, economic and political domains that led Islamic actors to rethink and recalibrate the collective and utopian vision of Islamisms beginning from the 1990s. In other words, it was the extrovert nature of the movement that allowed the actors to make contact with modern professions, contexts, values and lives to revise their Islamic life narratives in the face of new experiences.

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The common denominator of newly arising self-critical voices in Islamic circles in novels, autobiographies and intellectual accounts is not only their critical attitude towards earlier collective and revolutionary discourses of Islamism but also their overt will to withdraw Islam to private boundaries. This new position is captured by a female actor’s utterance: ‘‘When I die, Allah will not ask me ‘did you Islamisize the state?’ Allah will ask me ‘what did you do to protect your self (nefs)?’ I think I am solely responsible for my own self’’ (Sever 2006: 226). Similar thoughts are also voiced by several Islamic actors, including the JDP politicians who seem to bracket their Islamic claims when deliberating about politics and the party. Then, is the JDP an ‘Islamist Party’ as Sivan (2003) argues? Or does it refer to, as Roy contends, ‘‘normalization and democratization of an Islamist party’’ (Roy 2002: 61), or to a ‘‘post-Islamist movement keeping its ties with Islam in the social realm but abandoning it as a political program’’ (Dagı 2005: 30). It is clear that the party, as Tayyip Erdogan himself states, is a new attempt ‘‘to reformulate in a healthier way the relation between religion and democracy, tradition and modernity and state and society’’ (Erdogan, 2004; 11). What counts as ‘healthier’ is not obvious yet. What is obvious however is that the JDP’s search to develop a new language on Islam and democracy has a social basis within Islamic circles. There is a close relation between the self-critical protagonist of a novel stating that he ‘‘wants to take off (his) militant uniform’’ (Efe 1993: 171) and the JDP members who declare that they ‘‘took off (their) National Outlook shirt.’’ Hence, the JDP members can be thought of as political counterparts of the self-critical Muslim actors in non-political realms who resist collective definitions and revolutionary interpretations of Islam.14 The stance of these new actors signifies a shift from being an Islamist to being a Muslim. The term ‘conservative democracy’ then points at two parallel processes: a new Muslim self on the one hand that does not put an ‘and’ to demarcate between Islam and democracy and who is open to the possibility of a mutual borrowing. In this case, this term involves a renunciation of an earlier Islamist claim that Islam was totally distinct from Western frames of reference.15 The prefix ‘conservative’ on the other hand testifies to Muslim actors’ long lasting desire to blend democracy with conservative values such as emphasis on the family or the prohibition of pornography. The new Muslim self is an outcome of factors inside and outside of Islamic movements. It seems that the fate of ‘conservative democracy’ depends not only on Islamic but also on secular actors’ new positioning on Islam, secularism, and democracy.

Notes 1 This claim was made by Tayyip Erdogan at a party congress in 2002 (Milliyet 2003).

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2 The 1980 coup makers institutionalized religious courses in primary and secondary schools and promoted a conception of Islam in combination with Turkish nationalism as a buffer against communism. 3 Indeed this call for a rethinking of the state of the Muslim world in the face of the supremacy of Western modernity was the defining characteristic of the first generation Islamists at the end of the nineteenth century. However, the Islamism of the 1970s, as a leading Islamic intellectual of the period argued, differed from that of the first generation on one crucial point: while the question that the first generation reflected upon was ‘‘why did Islam recede in the face of the West?’’ contemporary Islamism formulated the question in a different paradigm: ‘‘What should be the response of Islam to the modern world?’’ (Bulac¸ 1987: 14). What is underlined here is that contemporary Islamism is much more assertive and proactive in responding to the modern world compared with the first generation Islamists. Islamism thus refers to a social and political movement that aims at developing a response to the challenges posed by Western modernity. 4 Bulac¸ in this book argues that an Islamic order would be based on ‘‘Islamic rules that put forward justice and strong community deriving from Islam’s natural course of history’’ (Bulac¸ 1987: 348). This book sold almost 500.000 copies. ¨ nsal and Ozensel note that its influence on Islamic youth was similar to that of U Politzer’s Elementary Principles of Philosophy on socialist youth. For a detailed ¨ nsal and Ozensel 2004. biography of Bulac¸ see U 5 Abdurrahman Dilipak for instance stated that ‘‘The Islamic state does not promise wealth and prosperity to the Muslim community . . . [To expect such a thing] would be to mistakenly expect that a goal promised by capitalism could be reached via the Islamic route’’ (quoted by Gu¨lalp 1997: 422). 6 On Islamic novels, see C ¸ ayır 2006. 7 An exception to this was the case of the Virtue Party which after the 28 February Process formulated a pro-European policy. 8 This is a Koranic verse. For the other slogans of the Welfare Party see, Yıldız 2003: 205. 9 One writer notes that the Welfare Party employed ‘communitarian political strategies’ that involved a search for a coherent community (Keyman 1995). 10 Gender relations, for instance, were based on the principle of mutual responsibility in many texts. Men and women were defined according to their distinct functions in a way that stressed harmony and interdependence in achieving collective Islamic ideals. See Hatemi 1988. 11 Islamic intellectuals also had close interaction with other secular (especially leftist) intellectuals in several journals of both Islamic and non-Islamic circles. See Kentel 2004. 12 When Erbakan became the Prime Minister, his first state visit was made to Islamic countries such as Libya and Iran as part of his long held desire to establish an Islamic economic bloc against Western powers. Moreover, he invited the leaders of religious brotherhoods (tarikat) for a dinner during Ramadan to the prime minister’s residence. The appearance of religious leaders in an official residence in their traditional outfits, and the wearing of religious hac dress (ehram) by deputies of the Party at Istanbul’s airport were the high-points of TV channels for several days. Such Islamic visibilities were treated as an attack on the presuppositions of Kemalist modernism by secular circles. In the 28 February Process, the National Security Council forced the Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan to adopt several pro-secular measures in order to prohibit perceived Islamic threat (irtica). At the end of the process, the Erbakan government was forced to resign. Moreover, Erbakan left his short tenure after signing a military co-operation agreement with Israel and signing the decision of the Supreme Military Council (Yu¨ksek Askeri Sura) dismissing Islamist sympathizers from the

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military (Mecham 2004: 344). He was unable to fulfill any of his promises including the headscarf issue. 13 As Bu¨lent Arınc¸, the speaker of the parliament, once stated ‘‘if we are to be realistic, we should not come up against and clash with the military’’ (Cizre and C ¸ ınar 2003: 326). 14 A recent research on Islamic actors shows that the ‘‘charismatic leadership of Tayyip Erdogan’’ functions as a guide for Islamic actors to revise their stances towards pro-European politics as pursued by the Party. See Bayramoglu 2006. 15 According to Burhanettin Duran, a new interpretation of ‘Islamic civilization’ rather than ‘Islamic state’ provides a platform for the JDP which aims to synthesize modern (democratic) and conservative (Islamic) values. The JDP’s discourse on Islamic civilization does not essentialize the categories of the West and Islam, hence, it opens up a realm for a synthesis of Islamic and Western values (Duran 2006: 284–85).

References . . ¨ c¸ Ihtilal C Aktas, C. (1991) U ¸ ocugu, Istanbul: Nehir. . Alan, B. (2004a) . ‘Islamcı aydınların batılılasma ihaneti 1’ Milli Gazete, 7 February. —— (2004b) ‘Islamcı aydınların batılılasma ihaneti 2’ Milli Gazete, 11 February. Al-Azmeh, A. (1993) Islams and Modernitites, London: Verso. Alkan, T. (2004) ‘Degisim?’ Radikal, 1 June. Arat, Y. (2005) Rethinking Islam and Liberal Democracy: Islamic Women in Turkish Politics, NY: State University of New York Press. Bayramoglu, A. (2006) C ¸ agdaslık Hurafe Kaldırmaz: Demokratiklesme Su¨recinde . Dindar ve Laikler, Istanbul: Tesev yayınları. . Bulac¸, A. (1987) C ¸ agdas Kavramlar ve Du¨zenler, Istanbul: Beyan. . ——(1990) Din ve Modernizm, Istanbul: Endu¨lu¨s Yayınları. ——(1992) ‘Modern ve Mahrem’, Birikim, 33: . 74–80. ——(2000) ‘Bizim Mahallede Elestiri Yu¨rek I.ster’, Yeni Safak, 6 May. Canatan, K. (2003) ‘AKP Baglamında ‘‘Yeni Islamcılık’’’, Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce, 4: 22–28. C ¸ ayır, K. (2006) ‘Islamic Novels: A New Path to Muslim Subjectivity’ in N. . . Gole and L. Ammann (eds) Islam in Public: Turkey, Iran and Europe, Istanbul: Istanbul Bilgi University Publications. ¨ . and C Cizre, U ¸ ınar, M. (2003) ‘Turkey 2002: Kemalism, Islamism, and Politics in the Lights of the February 28 Process’, The South Atlantic Quarterly, 2/3: 309–32. . Dagı, I. (2005) ‘Transformation of Islamic Political Identity in Turkey: Rethinking the West and Westernization’, Turkish Studies, 6: 21–37. Duran, B. (2006) ‘JDP and Foreign Policy as an Agent of Transformation’, in M.H. Yavuz (ed.) The Emergence of a New Turkey: Democracy and the AK Parti, Salt Lake City: The University . Press. . of Utah Efe, M. (1993) Mızraksız Ilmihal, Istanbul: Yerli Yayınlar. Erdogan, T.R. (2004) ‘Opening Remarks in International Symposium on Conservatism and Democracy’, in Symposioum Proceedings, published by Ak Parti. . Gole, N. (1991) Modern Mahrem, Istanbul: Metis. Gonu¨ltas, N. (2000) ‘Bizim Mahalle de Farklı Degil’ Zaman, 7 May. Gu¨lalp, H. (1997) ‘Globalizing Postmodernism: Islamist and Western Social Theory’, Economy and Society, 26: 419–33.

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——(1999) ‘The Poverty of Democracy in Turkey: The Refah Party Episode’, New Perspectives on Turkey, Fall, 21: 35–59. Hatemi, H. (1988) Kadının C ¸ ıkıs Yolu, Ankara: Fecr. Houston, C. (2001) ‘The Brewing of Islamist Modernity: Tea Gardens and Public Space in Istanbul’, Theory, Culture and Society, 18: 77–97. Kac¸an, H. (1997) ‘C ¸ eliskim’, Yeni Safak, 27 June. . Kekec¸, A. (1999) Yagmurdan Sonra, Istanbul: Sehir Yayınları. Kentel, F. (2004) ‘1990’ların Islami Du¨su¨nce Dergileri ve Yeni Mu . ¨ slu¨man .Entelektu¨.eller’, in Y. Aktay (ed.) Modern Tu¨rkiye’de Siyasi Du¨su¨nce: Islamcılık, Istanbul: Iletisim. Keyman, F. (1995) ‘On the Relation Between Global Modernity and Nationalism: The Crisis of Hegemony and the Rise of (Islamic) Identity in Turkey’, New Perspectives on Turkey, Fall, 8: 93–120. Komec¸oglu, U. (2006a) ‘Islamic Patterns of Consumption’ in B. Pusch and A. Yumul (eds) Cultural changes in the Turkic World since 1990, Orient Institute: Istanbul. ——(2006b) ‘New Sociabilities: Islamic Cafes in Istanbul’ in N. Gole and L. Ammann (eds) Islam in Public: Turkey, Iran, and Europe, Istanbul: Istanbul Bilgi University Press. Mecham, R.Q. (2004) ‘From the ashes of virtue, a promise of light: the transformation of political Islam in Turkey’, Third World Quarterly,. 25: 339–58. Metiner, M. (2004) Yemyesil Seriat Bembeyaz Demokrasi, Istanbul: Dogan Kitap. Milliyet (2003) ‘Gomlek Kavgası’, Milliyet, 22 May. Navaro-Yashin, Y. (1998) ‘Uses and Abuses of ‘‘State and Civil Society’’ in Contemporary Turkey’, New Perspectives on Turkey, Spring, 18: 1–22. Roy, O. (2002) Globalised Islam: The. Search for a New Ummah, London: Hurst Co. Sever, M. (2006) Tu¨rban ve Kariyer, Istanbul: Timas. Sivan, E. (2003) ‘The Clash within Islam’ Survival, 45: 25–44. Taluk S. (1995) ‘Biz Siyasette Gerc¸ekten Var mıyız?’ Kadın Kimligi, 9: 18–19. Toprak, B. (1993) ‘Islamist Intellectuals: Revolt against Industry and Technology’, Turkey and the West: Changing Political and Cultural Identities, London: I. B. Tauris. . Toros, H. (1997) Halkaların Ezgisi, Istanbul: Kırkambar Yayınları. ¨ nsal F.B. and Ozensel, E. (2004) ‘Ali Bulac¸’ in Y. Aktay (ed.) Modern Tu¨rkiye’de U . . . Siyasi Du¨su¨nce: Islamcılık, Istanbul: Iletisim. Yavuz, M.H. (1997) ‘Political Islam and the Welfare (Refah) Party in Turkey’ Comparative Politics, 30: 63–82. Yıldız, A. (2003) ‘Politico-Religious Discourse of Political Islam in Turkey: The Parties of National Outlook’, Muslim World, 93:. 187–209. . Yu¨ksel, M. (2003) ‘Siyasal Islam Bitti, Yasasın Yeni Islamcılık’, Hu¨rriyet, 16 February.

4

The Justice and Development Party’s ‘new politics’ Steering toward conservative democracy, a revised Islamic agenda or management of new crises? Burhanettin Duran

Introduction Since its foundation in August 2001, Turkey’s Justice and Development Party (JDP) has routinely declared its commitment to the idea of transformation. Its landslide victory in the November 2002 elections was a huge success for the new party which has differentiated itself from the rest of the political parties as regards to its attitude towards reformism. This task of reformation represents continuity with the earlier Islamist aspirations of political parties of the same genre to rectify the undemocratic nature of the Turkish political system. As Abdullah Gu¨l, the Foreign Minister and the second man in the party, argues, the JDP represents the will to transform fundamentally both itself and Turkey in terms of removing the constraints within the sphere of domestic politics for it to be able to democratize the political system. The party seeks to operate in the realm of foreign policy especially, in order to affect the new restructuring of the Turkish political system. For this purpose, it has used the area of foreign policy as a secure way to further democratize the political system while trying to avoid a clash with secularist circles (Duran 2006: 282). This is the ‘new understanding of politics’ for the party. This discourse on transformation has empowered the party in the eyes of not only the Turkish electorate but also the economic elites and the media.1 The JDP claims that it has brought a new political style and understanding to Turkish political life. The main political priorities behind the JDP’s discourse of transformation have been a commitment to further the reforms called for by the IMF (International Monetary Fund) and Turkey’s accession process into the European Union. Since the accession process necessitates the consolidation of Turkish democracy in accordance with the Copenhagen Criteria,2 the JDP’s attempt to transform the political system along a reformist course reaffirms its legitimacy in the eyes of the EU and the Turkish people who wish to join the Union. The JDP has domesticated the reforms of the EU accession process by declaring that it is in Turkey’s

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own interest to proceed with the requirements of the Copenhagen Criteria. The international conjuncture and developments in the domestic political scene have strengthened the JDP government’s discourse of transformation during its five years in office. Since an economic crisis and corruption in domestic politics called for a radical transformation within the system before the 2002 elections, the JDP has received considerable support in its agenda of transformation from many fronts. The party has enjoyed a rather supportive milieu of world politics in which many—particularly in the US and Europe—believed that if democracy was to be successfully fostered across the Muslim world, it was vital to strengthen the JDP’s agenda of transformation. In a sense, for the first time in many years, both the Turkish people and external players shared the same idea: to transform the Turkish political system. This chapter will show that the JDP has benefited much from the ‘opportunity spaces’ that have been created by the process of globalization (flow of international capital) and integration with the EU (the Copenhagen Criteria). However, the chapter goes beyond making the above point: it demonstrates that the limitations and side effects of these international transformative influences are just as important as their obvious positive results. Without denying the importance of this point, the chapter goes on to argue that the JDP has been losing its potential to transform the parameters of Turkish politics in general and Islamist politics in particular as the task of transformation becomes much more subjected to daily political calculations preceding the next presidential elections, in 2007. In trying to delineate the challenges of transformation, this chapter first addresses the ideological transformation of the JDP and its discourse of conservative democracy. Second, it focuses on the use of foreign policy for the JDP’s agenda of political transformation and its limits. Third, it studies the major aspects of the JDP’s domestic political agenda with special reference to secularism (the headscarf issue) and the Kurdish question. Finally, it tries to answer the question as to whether in its fourth year in government, the JDP has gone through a process of reordering its priorities in its reform policies so as to give primacy to security-based policies and relegate its transformative policies to a lower position.

Conservative Democracy: A New and Modified Islamic Politics? Since its foundation, the JDP leadership has persistently argued that the politicization of religion is dangerous for democracy and religion. This argument is complemented by another claim of the leadership: that the exIslamists of the party have changed their minds on issues of secularism, democracy and the establishment of an Islamic state. In fact, the ideological transformation of Erdogan and his friends who represented the reformist wing of the NOM began with the Virtue Party which was formed soon after the closure of the Welfare Party (WP) in 1998 by the Constitutional Court.

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Behind this ideological transformation lies the awareness within the ranks of the party that the majority of the Turkish population is as strongly attached to democracy and secularism as they are attached to religious values (C ¸ arkoglu 2004: 111–14). Having denied the label ‘Islamist,’ the JDP leaders have claimed that they try to forge a new understanding of politics free from the politicization of religion, populism and corruption. Thus, the main thrust behind the JDP’s development of a conservative political identity has been the ‘‘normalization of the current Turkish political system’’ after 28 February 1997 military intervention (Akdogan 2006: 52). The key implication of this normalization has been to ameliorate the qualitative shrinkage of the political sphere in the aftermath of the ‘February 28 Process.’3 This new politics, in this respect, is a search for a new social contract between different sectors of the Turkish society. In this sense, it is indeed largely based on the synthesis between liberal desires for reform and con. servative (religious) cultural sensitivities. As Ihsan D. Dagı (2006: 89) argues, this new politics is based on a ‘three-layered strategy:’ first, the adoption of ‘a language of human rights and democracy as a discursive shield;’ second, mobilization of ‘popular support as a form of democratic legitimacy;’ and third, the construction of ‘a liberal democratic coalition with modern/secular sectors that recognise the JDP as a legitimate political actor.’ This three-tiered strategy has enabled the JDP to bring together the business, urban poor and conservative-religious electoral constituencies. As a striking manifestation of the party’s new transformative politics, the JDP has stayed away from populist economic policies since its early days in government. In fact, the JDP’s non-populist policies in economic matters are unprecedented in recent Turkish political history. One significant example of the party’s non-populism is the law on social security reform of April 20, 2006. The reform that frightened the earlier governments for its potential to alienate large sectors of the population against the government was passed by the JDP through Parliament in only two days. This law lessens the social security burden on the employers without abandoning neo-liberal economic policies. When Condoleezza Rice, the US Secretary of State, asked Abdullah Gu¨l how they managed to pass the social security reform package, reminding him of France’s failure to do so, he had this to say: ‘‘We have already told our people what we can do and can not. We do not engage in populism’’ (Yetkin 2006). Although it is acknowledged that a broad coalition of the electorate supported the JDP in the 2002 general and 2004 local elections, the party has kept its autonomy from social classes and their demands. Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the JDP’s leader, has made it clear to the people that politics has changed and the government should no longer be expected to be ‘‘a major source of jobs and money for unrestricted social welfare policies’’ (Turan 2003). The party has manifested a strong determination to follow neo-liberal policies which are non-populist and are beneficial to big business but harmful to the large sectors of agriculture and lower layers of the social strata.

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Despite a growing disillusionment with the JDP’s policies in particular, in agricultural sectors, these non-populist policies have been legitimized by reference to a new understanding of politics which speaks to the people of the realities of the Turkish economy and the steps to take to remedy the policy shortcomings. Pragmatism is also one of the characteristics that has helped promote a new politics for the party: The definition of politics as ‘‘an art of solving problems, but not creating them’’ (C ¸ ınar 2003) by the JDP leadership is in large part, related to the JDP’s pragmatism, which has grown out of the local government experiences of its leadership cadre. The .leader of the party, Tayyip Erdogan, himself was the popular mayor of Istanbul from 1994 until his imprisonment in 1998.4 His experience in municipal politics made him realize that Turkish people want services rather than ideological slogans. The party’s pro-European stance can also be connected to its pragmatism: ‘‘It (JDP) is willing to make do with the norms imposed on Turkey by the EU, instead of engaging in a struggle to impose a unique program of its own on Turkish politics’’ (Dogan 2005: 430). In this sense, the JDP is ‘‘not a party of identity but rather a party that strives to provide better services’’ (Yavuz 2006: 3). A more critical component of this new politics lies in its ‘discourse’ of transformation with respect to Islamic political identity in Turkey. What has changed in its shift from the Welfare Party to the JDP? An answer to this question has to go beyond the debates on takiyye (hidden agenda) or the JDP’s total departure from Islamism. It is necessary to discern some key changes and continuities in Turkish Islamism in order to have a healthy analysis. One might argue that the underlying theme inherent in Turkish Islamism has always been the concept of Islamic civilization which regards Turkey as the center of the Islamic world. This Islamic consciousness has usually paid strong attention to the significance of Ottoman history in formulating an ideological framework in the Turkish context (Yavuz 2006: 18). Before the JDP’s discourse on civilization, Islamism adhered to a civilizational discourse based on conflict with the West. The JDP has distanced itself from these discourses, which the party thinks gave the National Outlook movement a ‘Third Worldist’ and anti-western perspective. Indeed, the NOM overemphasized the ‘conflictual’ nature of the relationship between the Islamic world and the West. For instance, Necmettin Erbakan, the leader of the NOM, expressed his Islamist intention to create the Islamic equivalent of the United Nations, NATO and the EU. Significantly, the JDP’s discourse of civilization incorporates two different conceptualizations of civilization: the Kemalist will to reach the contemporary civilization and a new Islamic ideal of the coexistence of civilizations, notably the Islamic civilization and the Western one within the EU. In other words, the word ‘civilization,’ in the singular but also in the plural, has been uttered frequently of late by Erdogan and Gu¨l, often in foreign policy discourses but also in domestic politics. When they use the word in the

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singular, they express their commitment to the Kemalist ideal of reaching the level of contemporary civilization, a position akin to the aims of Kemalist modernization. But at the same time, they use the word in the plural in the discussions of Turkey’s integration with the EU in order to point out the different civilizational roots of Europe and Turkey. In other words, their discourse over the coexistence of civilizations within the EU actually amounts to implying ‘the difference’ between traditional Islamic civilizations and that of Turkey. Through combining two different discourses on civilization, the JDP’s conservative democracy, in effect, problematizes both Kemalist and Islamist ideological conceptualizations of Turkish national history. In other words, the JDP has taken a post-Kemalist stand which enables it to escape from both Kemalist and Islamist conceptualizations of politics. But in a sense, the discourse on the alliance of civilizations creates a fertile ground to view Turkish modernization as the sum of interactive changes and continuities since the beginning of Ottoman modernization in 18395 and under the impact of Islamic(ist) and Western influences. It also serves the Islamist aspirations of reviving Islamic civilization as a basis for Islamic identity. This commitment to the idea of Islamic civilization is apparent in Erdogan’s Yenisafak statements (Erdogan 2006): Our [Islamic] civilization enlivened three continents through the means of justice and aesthetics while other civilizations were living in the darkness of the Medieval Age. In spite of the unfortunate interruptions on the road of civilization, however, thankfully, we have managed to rise altogether. We have not rejected our past. We have always remained committed to the spiritual roots that created ourselves. We continue to establish inter-civilizational bridges while reinvigorating the centre [Turkey] of our civilization. Tied to the discourse of civilization, the concepts of ‘justice’ and ‘progress/ development’ have contributed much to the evolution of Islamist discourses in Turkey since Ottoman times. It may not come as a surprise that the two pillar concepts for the party are justice and development. Justice, as the first word of the party’s name, has two meanings: It signifies the party’s claim ‘‘to fight injustice and inequity exacerbated by the endemic corruption within the Turkish system’’ (Mecham 2004: 351), as well as highlighting the fact that as the most significant Islamic concept since medieval times, justice has been a key issue for Islamism. Though it is difficult to say that the JDP’s usage of the term justice keeps the Islamist meanings of the concept properly, it still has a symbolic value in signifying the cultural roots and political preferences of the party. Moreover, the vagueness of the JDP’s definition of justice is not a problem. The concept of justice has always been vague without losing its symbolic value. The NOM’s ideological concept of Just Order (Adil Du¨zen) served as an influential slogan to represent the demands

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of the different sectors of the Turkish electorate in the 1990s. Furthermore, as Yıldız (2003) argues, the WP’s Islamic modernism relied on ‘a Muslim version of the Weberian analysis of Protestantism’ by considering religion as ‘‘the leitmotif of development and progress.’’ Western ‘developmentalist paradigm’ of the post-Second World War era had a remarkable impact on the ideological formation of the NOM (Yıldız 2003). The WP’s discourse of a just order did not only represent the Islamic demands of the religious sectors but also the socio-economic expectations of the poor in Turkish society. One may also claim that the JDP’s name, Justice and Development, manifests a continuity of the developmentalist mentality which the Islamists of the Ottoman Empire adopted from the nineteenth century onwards to later influence the NOM parties. With the exception of the 1980s, Islamists have regarded the idea of progress (material achievements of the West, like technology and industry) as something to be taken from European civilization. Thus, Islamists have a tendency to mix modern notions such as progress with traditional matters like justice to reconcile the ‘good’ aspects of the western modernity with Islam through an unnamed effort of creating an Islamic modernity. Interestingly, unlike the NOM, the JDP’s discourse of justice and development, aims at Turkey’s integration—not confrontation—with the West. However, the departure of the JDP from the NOM heritage does not necessarily mean that it cuts its ties with the Islamic movement in Turkey. Although the JDP has largely purged its political discourse of Islamist symbolism, it still keeps some affinity with the ‘Islamist ontology.’ For instance, Erdogan’s description of religion as an instrument for the attainment of human happiness reveals a new version of the Islamic thinking on politics which is connected to the philosophical heritage of Islam. This new understanding also considers politics a service to humankind: ‘‘Some people do not understand that all political systems are indeed an instrument. All religions are instruments for human happiness and peace’’ (Erdogan 2005a). According to Aktay (2005: 62), if Islamism, in the final sense, is ‘‘the protection of Islam’s interests and the enhancement of the value of Islam,’’ the JDP’s wish to de-politicize religion can be attributed to its deeply rooted Islamist considerations and recent political experience. Having come to the conclusion that the WP episode created a huge crisis and eradicated Islam’s social, cultural and economic influence in Turkey, the JDP defined its political identity as conservative democrat ‘‘in an attempt to escape from the self-defeating success of political Islam’’ (Dagı 2006: 95). The JDP, while still an expression of political Islam, should be regarded in this perspective as the first religiously inspired party capable of rejecting ‘‘the brotherhood model and adopting the model of Western Christian Democrat parties.’’ There is a strong line of thinking which considers this change of model not as the failure of political Islam in Turkey, but as a successful shift to ‘‘a new ideological phase’’ (Thierry Zarcone quoted in Introvigne 2006: 41). A similar argument is that Islamists maintain their Islamic social and political orientation:

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‘‘Islam continues to be the grammar of their identity. What is changing, however, is their world vision’’ (Kosebalaban 2005: 31) Despite its vagueness, the term conservative democracy serves the intentions of the JDP leadership very well. It gives an identity to the party without disturbing the international community and the secularist establishment in Turkey while at the same time assuring its Islamist electorate that Islam continues to play an important role in the party’s identity and policies. Although the JDP has refused any use of Islam for politics as the main important point of its departure from the NOM, Erdogan still uses a ‘soft/light’ religious language against strict secularism, for instance by declaring that religiosity should not be a hindrance to being a politician. In this respect, it is interesting to note that the religious sensitivity of the JDP could be seen in the double meanings encompassed in the adjective ‘conservative’ (muhafazakar). It is clear that the concept of conservative democracy, like Erbakan’s National Outlook perspective, is open to the same double meanings from different perspectives. ‘National Outlook’ signifies both nation and religiosity while the adjective of ‘conservative’ in the JDP’s identity also evokes both national and religious values (Subası 2005: 170). The adjective conservative here implies both protecting religious values from the maladies of modernization and keeping the existing political regime intact. This preference for using words with double meanings might be related to the fact that Turkey’s secular constitution has encouraged a ‘‘recessed Islamic politics, in which religion is an implicit rather than an explicit part of political discourse’’ (Lesser 2004:183). One crucial difference between the NOM and the JDP is the importance given to the party organizations at local levels. Given the vagueness in its political identity, the JDP leadership could be seen as not paying enough attention to the party’s institutionalization problems at a local level. This lack of attention is not only because the party was founded in 2001 and came to power in the following year. It is also because of their preference for conflict avoidance in the secularist system, the JDP leadership, unlike the parties of the NOM, does not want a strong identity and strong grassroots movement. This attitude might lead one to argue that the JDP leadership prefers a rather loose party organization which is based on some leading figures (Abdullah Gu¨l, Bu¨lent Arınc¸, Abdu¨llatif Sener, Mir Dengir Fırat, Abdu¨lkadir Aksu and Cemil C ¸ ic¸ek) and a charismatic party leadership which keeps different political trends together. Having learned many lessons from the closure of the Welfare Party in the February 28 Process, the JDP leadership seems careful about preventing any radicalization of its rank-andfile in the party’s local organizations. Any radicalization of local organizations might eradicate the basis for the party’s claim to ‘new politics’ in order to transform the Turkish political system. Parallel to the change of discourse in domestic politics, the JDP has also adopted a new discourse of foreign policy totally different from that of the

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NOM. The JDP’s multidimensional foreign policy is touted as serving the ‘national interest’ in the most effective way. The underlying difference from the policy of the NOM is that the JDP’s new ‘multidimensional’ policy does not change or challenge the western orientation of Turkish foreign policy.

Use of Foreign Policy for an Agenda of Domestic Transformation ‘Conservative democracy’ could be seen as the expression of the JDP’s will to internalize international norms. Having accepted human rights, democracy and the rule of law as universal values, the JDP embraces the dominant Western values while remaining committed to conservative (Islamic) roots. The JDP has drawn the lesson from the experience of the WP that an antiWestern Islamist party could not have a chance to rule Turkey. Therefore, a pro-European foreign policy is seen as the instrument of legitimization for the government party not only in the eyes of the Turkish state elite but also in the eyes of the international system. In its five years in government (between 2002 and the time of writing, March 2007), the JDP has introduced some significant political and economic reforms to consolidate Turkish democracy along the lines of the EU’s Copenhagen Criteria. For instance, Ali Babacan, Minister of State, defined Turkey’s EU membership process as ‘‘a reform movement that will bring universal standards and practices to all areas of daily life, from production to education, from agriculture to industry, energy to environment and from justice to security’’ (2004: 31). The legitimization role of its Europeanist position and policies also represents a fruitful example for the transformational effects of Europeanization on the Turkish domestic scene. The JDP’s strategy of turning the EU accession process into ‘‘an amplifier of its political program’’ enables it to transform the Kemalist state structure, to some extent (Duran 2006: 296). In fact, through the EU harmonization process, the JDP has shown a great determination in accelerating the pace of reforms which have brought farreaching changes to the Turkish political and legal system. Despite the emergence of later difficulties in the process of integration, the JDP has also taken important steps to ensure the effective implementation of these reforms, in order to allow Turkish people to enjoy fundamental freedoms and rights in line with European standards. It has successfully enacted several packages to conform to the EU’s Copenhagen Criteria for accession. These reforms address a number of issues related to the core elements of Turkey’s political structure and dynamics. These include reducing the influence of the military in politics; eradicating the death penalty; abolishing the State Security Courts (Devlet Gu¨venlik Mahkemeleri-DGM); strengthening gender equality; broadening freedom of the press; aligning the judiciary with European standards; and establishing the supremacy of international agreements in the area of fundamental freedoms over internal legislation. After an ambitious reform campaign,

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the JDP has managed to initiate negotiations with the Union as of October 3, 2005. Integration with the EU is the cornerstone of the JDP’s multidimensional foreign policy. The party leadership believes that Turkish membership of the EU can substantially strengthen the Middle Eastern profile of the EU nations’ foreign policy. Also, Europeanization will enhance the influence of Turkish foreign policy in the Middle East and the Muslim world over the issues of human rights and the promotion of democracy (Gu¨l 2004: 1–7). For the party leaders dedicated to the idea of joining the EU, Turkey’s membership would send a strong message about the compatibility between an aspiring democracy–albeit a struggling one—and Islam and of the multireligious inclusiveness of the Union, thus denouncing the idea of the ‘clash of civilizations’ (Duran 2006: 294). From a civilizational standpoint, the JDP’s foreign policy, as Davutoglu (2004), chief advisor to the prime minister and foreign minister,6 explains, is premised on the basic conviction that Turkey is not just a bridge but a central country (merkez u¨lke), where Asia, Europe and Middle East meet. Davutoglu (2004) thinks that Turkish foreign policy should be based on five interdependent principles:  democratization without risking security and stability (broadening the sphere of freedoms and strengthening domestic political legitimacy);  good relations (zero problems) with neighbors;  proactive, multidimensional and complementary policies;  a new diplomatic style (self-confidence); and lastly,  transition from static diplomacy to a rhythmic one in terms of increasing the influence of Turkey in international organizations to become a global player (Davutoglu 2004). This new foreign policy seems to be committed to changing the prevalent conviction that ‘strategic’ considerations—as defined by geography— should be the most salient factor in the making of the Turkish foreign policy. Two foreign policy issues/objectives of the party distinguish it from the previous governments. First, the party appears to believe that Turkey’s geopolitical position and its cultural and historical connections make it a significant player not only in the Middle East, Central Asia and in the Balkans but also on the world scene. It is clear that the fundamental aim in transforming foreign policy is to turn Turkey from a regional power into a global power. Second, the JDP government believes that the traditional strategy understanding of Ankara which operates on the basis of fears and insecurities produced by its geography/location, should be replaced by other factors such as good neighbourly relations with the countries in the region and the presentation of ‘a model’ to the wider Islamic world (Duran 2006). The ‘model’ angle, however, goes beyond describing the pre-eminent role of Turkey in the region as that of serving as a bridge between Europe and

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Asia, between the East and the West. It means that, before anything else, this model ‘‘has to prove its merit in terms of achieving social peace, economic progress and political development’’ (Ugur 2004: 340) by solving Turkey’s own problem of how to come to terms with Islamism and Kurdish identity through the consolidation of its democracy. To the extent that Turkey’s strict interpretation of secularism sets limits to this task, Turkey’s chances of being a political model for the Muslim world is also limited. Nevertheless, Erdogan’s credentials and lifestyle (with a headscarved wife and daughters) and his stark criticism of Israeli policies towards Palestinians have given considerable weight to his voice in this world. Most spectacularly, Erdogan has even called for democracy and reform across the Middle East at several meetings. It seems that the Turkish model may contribute to the democratization of the Middle Eastern countries if it continues to reform its political system in accordance with the Copenhagen Criteria. It is widely accepted that the EU membership process has been contributing to the consolidation of democracy in Turkey even if there is still a long list of serious issues to be dealt with before the process of the negotiations can bring results. Another significant aspect of the new foreign policy concerns relations with the US. The JDP’s relations with the US have been open to fluctuations due to disagreements over Middle East, including the US invasion of Iraq, as well as issues concerning Palestine, Iran and Syria.7 Although the post-September 11th era constitutes a rather suitable conjuncture for the JDP’s new politics to address serious problems of the Middle East in a peaceful and ‘model-like’ manner, disagreements between the two countries over US policy towards ‘rogue states’ and the JDP’s ‘proactive’ foreign policy towards neighboring countries have undermined the significance of the Turkish model’s democratizing potential in the region, at least in the eyes of the world’s hegemonic power. It would be fair to say that the EU accession process seems to weaken the government’s early transformative dynamism by bringing some tensioncreating issues onto the Turkish public agenda. With liberal desires for reform lessened, the conservative-nationalist wing of the JDP, has won over the party’s democratic and transformative aspirations. Therefore, it would be true to say that, international relations, notably the relations with the US and even the EU accession process, no longer provide an ‘opportunity space’ to strengthen the JDP’s position and policies in a liberal direction for its fifth year in office. In other words, the ability of foreign policy to further transform the Turkish political system has reached its limits. The EU accession process has introduced some issues into domestic politics that have caused stress and stemmed the reform potential of the JDP government. It seems that the JDP has failed to implement the principles of democratic governance when it has faced opposition coming from the nationalist and secularist circles. In spite of the remarkably wide-reaching reforms carried out as part of the EU harmonization process and improvement

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in macro-economic indicators, the JDP’s performance in handling domestic tensions over the sensitive and symbolic issues of Turkish domestic politics— notably, the Kurdish question, the headscarf issue, the imam-hatip schools (preacher and orator schools) and public administration reform—has not been up to the mark. From the early days of the JDP government, the JDP leadership seems to have been aware of the fact that the combination of the ideological opposition of the civilian-military bureaucracy, big business and media might preclude any possibility of transforming domestic politics. Despite this awareness, the party has taken up the responsibility of bridging the gap between the center and the periphery (Akdogan 2006: 62), implying its commitment to the resolution of identity issues in a democratic regime. Erdogan’s depiction of politics as ‘‘an art of solving problems, but not creating them’’ should be seen in this perspective. Although this statement manifests a clear determination to decrease any possibility of polarization between the secularist and Islamist circles, what is missing in this consensual definition is the conflict-ridden and confrontational nature of politics. It is a Herculean task to solve the identity problems of Turkish politics without creating tension and conflict. For one thing, suspicions towards the Islamist background of the JDP and its leaders weaken the hands of the leadership as the reform proposals are usually eyed with skepticism and accusations that they will eventually erase the secular nature of the republic. The story of the law on restructuring the Public Administration is one of the best examples to be given here. In 2005, the JDP government passed laws on Public Administration and local government in order to restructure the public service in accordance with new forms of public management which incorporate the importation of private sector management systems and techniques into the public sector. These laws relegated some of the powers of the central government to the local administrative entities8 and produced a public debate on the implications of the delegation of powers to local authorities. The JDP’s attempt at reform has been severely criticized by the main opposition party, the RPP (Republican People’s Party), and the President Ahmet Necdet Sezer on the grounds that it would weaken the unitary and secular nature of the Turkish state. The government was accused of pushing for a more decentralized state structure in order to prepare fertile ground for an Islamist takeover of the public administration (Beris and Dicle 2004). Another example of a failure of the JDP’s reform agenda was when the party showed the political will to reform the Higher Education Board (YOK) which has been severely and continuously criticized by many liberal and leftist circles since it was created in 1981, after the 1980 coup. This reform attempt faced strong opposition by the secularist circles on the grounds that it was an attempt to allow students of preacher and orator schools (Imam Hatip schools) to attend universities in greater numbers. Although the parliament passed the bill on 13 May 2004, it was vetoed on 28 May 2004 by the President who argued that this bill violated the country’s secular principles.9

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As such failed reform attempts show, the JDP’s ‘new politics’ has not been able to placate the rising concerns and fears of the opposition and the top echelon of the country’s bureaucracy ranging from universities to the courts, despite its claim that the new politics are based on the values of reconciliation and integration rather than conflict and polarization. The dilemma the JDP faces is that it can only reform the system by solving the deeply rooted political tensions emanating from the undemocratic management of identity claims in Turkey without upsetting the status quo. This dilemma necessitates consensus-building between the JDP, the RPP and the secularist establishment, which is not happening. There is no doubt that the establishment’s challenge to these reforms which would fulfill the EU conditions saps the vigor of the JDP government. Moreover, the resulting politics of avoidance—not problematizing the sensitive and symbolic issues of the Kemalist regime—has some limitations for a party whose leaders for the most part come from Islamist backgrounds. The JDP’s reluctance to deal with the Kemalist definition of secularism and democracy creates a sense of disillusionment on the part of the party’s Islamist electorate. Although the party is not able to meet Islamic expectations on the issues of religious education and headscarves, the leadership has deliberately continued addressing them. This continued addressing is partly related to the JDP’s aim to send political messages to its electorate claiming that the party will solve these problems in the long run. Erdogan and the Speaker of the Assembly, Bu¨lent Arınc¸, have not refrained from criticizing the secularist interpretations of bureaucratic and judicial institutions, like the YOK and Council of State (Danıstay). In this way, the JDP government’s policies have also created some serious discussions and polemics around secularism.

Secularism, Headscarves and the JDP Secularism, the most contested bedfellow of Turkish democracy, has represented a battlefield for the conflict between Islamists and secularists, especially on how to define the term itself. Erdogan (2004) defines secularism as a state’s neutrality towards the nation’s different values and beliefs without any discrimination and as the establishment of a free environment for beliefs: As for secularism, we define this as an institutional attitude and method which ensures that the State remains impartial and equidistant to all religions and thoughts; a principle which aims to ensure peaceful social co-existence between different creeds, sects and schools of thought. We believe that secularism needs to be crowned with democracy in order for fundamental rights and freedoms to be accorded constitutional guarantees. This allows secularism to function like an institution of arbitration and provide an environment of compromise.

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Interestingly, although the JDP knows very well that any attempt at revising the ‘controlled secularity’ of the Republic would create serious tensions, it does not shy away from testing the limits of this secularity (Tank 2005: 14–15). In this way, secularism has often been the centerpiece of polemics during the JDP government, especially since Bu¨lent Arınc¸’s speech on 23 April 2005. In this speech, having underlined the supremacy of the Parliament, he complained that Parliament has sometimes been left out of the functioning of crucial mechanisms. He was referring to the exclusion of Parliament and its relevant committees from the preparation of the National Security Policy Document, which, as the chief security document of the system, lays out threat-perceptions and security responses and has an enormous influence on Turkey’s domestic and foreign policy. Arınc¸ (2006) argued that the problem Turkey is faced with is no longer the regime itself but rather the ownership of the regime and who will lose power and who will gain. The principle of secularism, the focal point of the disagreements, is not disputed by anyone. The dispute originates from different interpretations of this principle. Despite its liberal conceptualization of secularism and its call for consensual politics over sensitive issues, the JDP has not managed to soften the polarization which is caused by the ‘‘simultaneous politicization of Islam and secularism’’ (Mardin 2005: 146). On the contrary, since the JDP has kept alive Islamic sensitivity over religious education and the headscarf issue by trying to make legal changes to meet the Islamist demands of its electorate, it is accused of undermining the secular nature of the regime by being Islamist without an Islamist discourse. Therefore, the JDP’s new politics have apparently been unsuccessful in transforming the securitizing and polarizing character of the Turkish secularism which classifies political issues as national security ones by elevating them to a supra-political level through discursive intervention (Buzan et al. 1998: 23– 24). The difficulty the party faces in reducing the level of polarization is partly related to the fact that the secularist state elite regards different ways of life, including an Islamist one, as threats to the Kemalist modernization project. In essence, the debate over the headscarf is merely a symptom of the deeper problems of symbolism, inclusion of lifestyles, elite competition and gender equality (Gole 1997). Similarly, it is correct to claim that what lies at the heart of the political tension between the JDP and the secularist establishment is the perception by each side that the other front’s conception of ‘way of living’ threatens the political power and vested interests of the other side, the establishment’s power and interests being more entrenched and more at risk than the other’s. The fear of losing ‘power and position’ by the secularist coalition has been expressed very clearly by prominent lead-columnist, Ertugrul Ozkok (2006),

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after the nomination of a new governor with a veiled wife, to the Central Bank: In recent times, men whose wives are wearing headscarves have had more opportunity than those whose wives are not wearing headscarves . . . Is this a revolution of the poor (garibanizm)? Is this revolution the beginning of the elimination of the white Turks? The Constitutional Court’s decision that the wearing of a headscarf breaches Articles 3 and 14 of the Constitution and the Republican principle of secularism creates a deadlock for the JDP government. As Kalaycıoglu argues, the JDP is confronted with a critical dilemma: it can either try to unseat the members of the Constitutional Court, change its composition, plant its own sympathizers and enable it to reverse the Court’s tu¨rban decision; or it can pressure the rectors of the universities, headmasters of secondary schools and public officials to look in the other direction while women in tu¨rban and tesettu¨r carry out various functions in the public offices under their jurisdiction.10 However, under the current conditions of the domestic politics neither of these options seems possible. Although the party leaders have not promised to solve this problem by themselves without reaching a consensus with other institutions and society, they have, nonetheless, often articulated a clear support for those women wearing the headscarf. When the European Court of Human Rights on November 2005 decided that Turkey had not violated the rights of Leyla Sahin11 by preventing her from being educated in the university through the ban the government imposes on headscarved students in universities, Erdogan argued that the Court’s decision was very upsetting, adding: ‘‘I don’t understand the way they view the headscarf. A court can’t make decisions on such matters; the ulema should’’ (Erdogan 2005b). This statement soon triggered a controversy, with some politicians accusing Erdogan of trying to turn Turkey into a country in which the ulema had the last say. As is clear in this debate, the secularist elite presents demands for any change in the strict interpretation of secularism of Turkey including the headscarf issue as a security threat. It should be noted that the JDP leadership has not been successful in desecuritizing the identity issues of Turkey with its claims of engaging with politics of consensus. To put it differently, the JDP has not been able to remove identity issues such as the Kurdish question and the headscarf problem from ‘‘being issues of existential/survival politics’’ and turn them into issues resolvable by more ‘‘cooperative forms of problem solving’’ (Sheehan 2005: 54).

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As secularism, in a sense, has become an instrument for the formation of political identity, the JDP’s aim of avoiding the radicalization of Islamic symbols to convert them into issues resolvable by cooperative modes is not realistic for three reasons. First, the JDP’s declaration of a new politics based on a reconciliation of interests and demands is not accepted by the secularist establishment, which is not convinced of the necessity for revising its strict implementation of secularism and removing identity issues from the realm of the politics of existentialism. On the contrary, the JDP government’s ascendance to power is regarded as an affirmation of the need to harden, rather than lessen the Kemalist sensitivities towards the politics of symbolism, especially the inclusion of headscarved wives of the government members in official ceremonies: Because the Kemalist Westernization project has relied more on symbols than substance, it has associated publicly visible instances of Islamic identity with reactionism. The ideology is also marked by a visible distaste for politics as a societal activity, and an ambivalent attitude toward the notion of popular democracy (Cizre and C ¸ ınar 2003: 310) Secondly, the JDP has not been successful in persuading the secularist establishment of its sensitivity to secularism simply because of the existence of Islamic symbols in their own lifestyles and their vulnerability to being open to Islamic demands (Kardas 2005: 200–222). Finally, it is also certain that political problems can not be solved without any conflict and political tension. The fact that the basic premise of the JDP’s conception of politics is reconciliation not conflict is in itself an untenable optimism if not empty rhetoric that is not borne out by real-life conditions and dynamics. The RPP’s confrontational politics over secularism helps the party to consolidate support coming from the Islamic constituency. Moreover, since the JDP defines its new politics as the normalization of political tensions, its management of mini political crises provides an opportunity to show its political brinkmanship while depicting an irresponsible and anti-religious image of the opposition, concretized in the RPP and in the secularist bureaucracy. Polarized politics between the JDP and the RPP does not disturb Erdogan; on the contrary, it gives him the opportunity to confine any chances of opposition only to the RPP as there are no other oppositional parties in the political system. Since the JDP’s will to transform the domestic politics is usually eyed with suspicion by secularist circles, the party has to live under the conditions of being closely scrutinized and publicly accused of having a hidden agenda. One may characterize this insecure political milieu as ‘a low profile cold-war’ or ‘an uneasy detente’ between the JDP and the secularist establishment. Interestingly, a veteran rightist politician, Hu¨samettin Cindoruk, (2006) argues that there is ‘‘a sociological and political

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war’’ between the secularist mentality and the mentality that is represented by the JDP. He believes that the weakness of the political parties in defending the regime, secularism and the Republican values is compensated by two institutions, the president and the military, which are opposed to the siege of Turkey by the radical movement in many areas, including culture, politics, trade and privatization (Cindoruk 2006) This low profile cold-war position, if compared with the conflict between the Welfare Party and the secularist establishment in the February 28 Process, may seem less problematic. In fact, the basic rationale behind the way politics is conducted in both cases remains to be the same: ‘containment’ of opponents. The JDP’s policy towards the secularist establishment has always been shaped by two different modes of behavior. When encountering problems regarding the reform packages as required by the EU integration process, the JDP government has not hesitated to speak out and manifest its will, though futile, for reform, as in the case of YOK. But when tension is generated over the changes directly related to the demands of the Islamic constituency, the party has always retreated and postponed its attempts at reform. This behavior is guided by the consideration that although the President is obliged by the constitution to sign the reform laws if the government insists, he has the option to apply to the Constitutional Court for the annulment of these laws. Seemingly, the JDP thinks that the Court would probably make a decision similar to Sezer’s view, and so the chances of making reforms connected with the sensitive issues of religious demands would have been lost forever. What remains for the JDP is to propose to its Islamic constituency ‘‘the politics of patience’’ (waiting for the right time) to which Erdogan has made particular reference in his speeches at party group meetings. This politics of patience relies on ‘‘a strategy of confrontation-avoidance’’ which is defined as a strategy ‘‘that is quite deliberate and decisive in trying to increase its (the JDP’s) leverage over national security and foreign policy, whilst not provoking a confrontation with the military’’ (Cizre 2004: 15–16). Following the same line of reasoning, one may argue that the JDP’s strategy of ‘confrontation-avoidance’ has taken the form of a ‘strategy of patience’ in terms of avoiding confrontations to reduce the tensions until election time while conserving its basic intention of reforming the laws with regard to the demands of its Islamist electorate. Without a doubt, the lessons derived from the failed Welfare government of 1996–97 factor into this strategy. However, at the time of writing [March 2007], the tensions between the JDP and the secularist establishment have developed into an open power struggle around the issue of presidential elections. For the RPP leader, Deniz Baykal, this election has a very important symbolic meaning: If the

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JDP succeeds in electing an individual whose wife wears a headscarf, this would be the conquest of the last republican stronghold, putting the secular regime in serious danger (Baykal 2006). Trying to revive the spirit of the War of Independence, Baykal has stated: ‘‘We saved Turkey in the War of Dardanelles and Sakarya; but Turkey needs to be protected now more than ever’’ (Baykal 2006). Hence, the RPP once again securitizes the issue of the election of a new president in 2007. Perhaps, one of the significant consequences of the tension between the JDP and the secularist establishment is the loss of internal democracy discourse within the party, seen recently with the purge of two deputies who criticized the leadership and complained of corruption at local branches.12 The need for a coherent parliamentary group is considered vital by the JDP leadership in order to cope with the heightened tensions on secularism before the coming presidential elections. However, there seems to be a ‘‘paradox of centralizing’’ in the JDP party in order to reform (decentralize) the state (Tepe 2005: 69) and to manage political tensions. In other words, the declining importance of internal democracy within the party might be read as the submission of the JDP to the dominant forces of Turkish political culture. It is difficult to claim that the JDP has scored notable achievements in challenging and debasing the traditional definition of secularism, national security and external and internal threats. The Kurdish question is not an exception to this observation.

The JDP and the Kurdish Question: A litmus test for the JDP’s New Politics For an insightful analysis into the JDP’s thinking on the Kurdish issue, this section will examine the following questions: What is the stance of the JDP in relation to Kurdish identity? Does the JDP have a specific and consistent policy that offers concrete solutions to the problems of Kurdish people in Turkey? Does the JDP’s conservative democracy redefine the terms of citizenship in Turkey by reviving identity issues? Globally speaking, this section of the chapter argues that rather than being described as consistent, the JDP’s Kurdish policy can best be characterized as swinging between a nationalist/conservative mood and a transformative/democratic intention. The conflict between mood and intention has resulted in a series of varying discourses and declarations about how this question should be solved. Normally, the JDP shows an inclination to understand the Kurdish question within the parameters of political freedoms and rights. As a reflection of its sensitivity to any form of identity politics, the JDP embraces the identity question including Kurdish ethnic identity as an enlargement of the freedoms issue. What is more, the Islamist credentials of the founders of the JDP have nurtured expectations of reforms in the Kurdish constituency of Southern Anatolia, mainly because the party is partly seen as an anti-systemic political organization that could capture the discontent and protest of the

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Kurdish people. Moreover, the JDP is believed to be committed to changing the basic parameters of the Turkish political system through the reforms of the EU accession process. True to this expectation, the party program, under the heading of the ‘East and Southeast,’ puts stress on the maintenance of the unitary structure of the Republic and of Turkish as the official language of the state and education while regarding ‘‘the cultural activities in languages other than Turkish, including broadcasting, as an asset which reinforces and supports the unity and integrity of our country, rather than weakens it’’ (Ak Parti Program: 29–32). The program also admits that solutions that rely merely on the concept of security could not solve this problem, but rather could exacerbate it in the long term. The problems of the southeast are not just those of economic underdevelopment and an approach which recognizes ‘‘cultural diversities within the framework of the democratic State of law should prevail’’ (Ak Parti Program: 29–32). No doubt, the party’s commitment to the enlargement of freedoms has solidified during the EU process. For instance, the JDP government has modified the legal system to allow broadcasting in Kurdish by both state and private TV stations. The ¨ K) approved broadcasts in Supreme Board of Radio and Television (RTU Kurdish for two private television channels in Diyarbakır and a radio station in Sanlıurfa on March 8, 2006. Erdogan has recently used a wide range of discourses to address the redefinition of the Turkish national identity in relation to the nature and resolution of the Kurdish question. Regarding the definition of Turkish identity vis-a`-vis the Kurdish problem, he has developed three points of analysis. First, he defines Turkish citizenship as a supra-identity including ethnic Turks, Kurds and others; second, he describes Islam as cement of national identity and finally, he promotes the discourse of ‘‘one state, one nation and one flag in Turkey’’ (Erdogan 2005d and 2005c). These different discourses might be better understood as a search for principles to address the Kurdish question rather than as parts of a political program to solve this question. Erdogan, in his meeting with some key intellectuals in August 2005, outlined his policy suggestions on the solution of the Kurdish problem in ‘‘a democratic republic’’ which was also used recently by Abdullah Ocalan, the former leader of the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), to imply the unity of two equal nations (Turkish and Kurdish) in the country. In his visit to Diyarbakır, the largest Kurdish city in Turkey, in November 2005, Erdogan not only addressed the existence of the ‘Kurdish problem’ in Turkey but also argued that Turkey had made mistakes in the past in its handling of this problem. Declaring that, ‘‘the Kurdish question is my problem,’’ Erdogan reiterated his understanding of Turkish citizenship as the supra-identity of the peoples of Turkey and promised more democratization to solve the problem (Erdogan 2005c). A similar argument was presented by Erdogan during a visit to the southeastern province of Hakkari in November 2005 following a series of explosions which were thought to be engineered by gendarmerie officers, later causing serious tension in the region. He said,

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‘‘We [Turkey] are a mosaic which is composed of different elements. No matter which ethnicity or religion any citizen of this country belongs to, we should all unite to live as brothers under the supra-national identity of citizenship of Turkey’’ (Erdogan 2005d). This new discourse distinguishes the existing articulations of the problem from the recognition . of the Kurdish question by former political leaders Turgut Ozal, Erdal Inonu¨, Tansu C ¸ iller and Su¨leyman Demirel in the early 1990s. Erdogan has implied that Turkishness is an ethnic rather than a nation-state identity. This new definition has incorporated different ethnic identities in Turkey under the umbrella of the Turkish citizenship as a supra-identity. Unsurprisingly, these words sparked a debate as to which identity was supra-national and which was subordinate. In a hidden reference to Erdogan’s redefinition of the national identity as a ‘‘supra-identity,’’ President Sezer (2006) said that the notion of a ‘Turkish nation’ reflects political unity and is directly related to the ‘‘unitary state structure.’’ In a similar vein, Baykal also criticized Erdogan in strong terms, stating that, ‘‘Turkishness cannot be a subordinate or ethnic identity. It is a supra-national identity’’ (Hu¨rriyet 2005). In Erdogan’s discourse on the Kurdish question, the second argument is about the role of Islam in the definition of the national identity. Erdogan argued that Islam is the cement that unites Turkey by quoting certain passages from Nutuk in which Atatu¨rk referred to Islam as the force that united all the ethnicities in Turkey (Erdogan 2005c). His proposal of Islam as the cement of Turkey in this regard calls for an understanding of the difference between the JDP’s stance and that of the National Outlook Movement on this issue. The WP too had identified the Kemalist project of identity-formation lying at the roots of the Kurdish problem. Thus, the solutions offered by the WP took their fundamental inspiration from the idea of reviving a Muslim brotherhood which would pave the way for achieving the unity of Turkish, Kurdish and other ethnic groups in Turkey (Duran 1998: 114). However, Erdogan’s description of ‘‘Islam as cement’’ is not central to the JDP’s conservative democrat political program while the notion of Muslim brotherhood was perceived by the WP as the first and foremost instrument that would keep the integrity of the state at the national level and establish the Islamic Union under the leadership of Turkey. A comparison of the WP’s Muslim brotherhood and the JDP’s arguments on justice and Muslim unity manifests the basic parameters of the recent transformation of Islamism in Turkey. While the WP’s discourse prioritizes justice and Muslim brotherhood as the political value to restructure the political system along Islamist lines, the JDP leadership appeals to the ideal of reaching at the level of contemporary civilization as the consensus of Turkey, including ex-Islamists. It is difficult to say whether this appeal to Islam as a uniting force will persuade the Kurdish nationalists and the secularist establishment to find a solution to the question. The main problem with this religion-affirming

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discourse is its implication that Turkish national identity is to be redefined along Islamic lines. For instance, Baykal has dismissed Erdogan’s claim that Islam was cement, noting, ‘‘Islam wasn’t successful at keeping the Ottoman state in one piece. When one looks at what’s happening in the Middle East and Afghanistan in the name of religion, one realizes that religion by itself cannot keep a country together’’ (Baykal 2005). All in all, Erdogan’s message on ethnic identities and EU reforms have created the expectation that the JDP government will demonstrate its determination that the transformation and reform of the system extends to include a redefinition of Turkish citizenship including Kurdish identity and cultural rights. But Erdogan’s argument that ‘‘there is one state, one nation, one flag’’ acknowledges the conventional nationalist discourse and is at odds with the JDP’s perceived intention of reform in this regard. This argument adopts the classical nationalist discourse on the national identity and is spurred by the increase in PKK terrorist attacks on state and civilian targets since May 2005. One of the most difficult times that the JDP has experienced in office was during the Diyarbakır incidents that started following the funerals of four of the fourteen PKK militants killed by security forces in an operation in the Bingol-Mus region. The violence broke out on 28 March 2006 when hundreds of youngsters went on a rampage in Diyarbakır, hurling stones and petrol bombs at the police and destroying shops and public buildings. Despite the calls for calm and despite the precautions taken by the security . forces, the riots spilled over to Batman, Siirt and even Istanbul. Six people, two of whom were children died during the incidents. (Turkish Daily News 2006b). The opposition parties accused the JDP government of indecision and confusion in fighting terrorism. As a result, the JDP was obliged to enact the Anti-terror Law despite strong criticism from its Islamic constituency. This law irritates the Islamist circles simply because of their fear that it might be used against their communities by labeling their religious activities as terrorism.13 It is seen by the Islamist circles as a sign of reverting to the authoritarian and military politics which overemphasize security issues. The hallmark of this legislation is the enlargement of the definition of terrorism14 and as such, the liberal, pro-EU sectors of the society have accused the JDP of surrendering its earlier democratizing policies to the authoritarian stance of the establishment on the Kurdish question. The Semdinli Incident15 has constituted the strictest litmus test for the JDP’s new politics regarding political/societal transformation and the Kurdish question. This incident turned into a political crisis that the JDP failed to manage within the confines of its commitment to democratization. At this point, it is suitable to ask the question of whether the JDP has turned to security-based policies by dropping its will and determination to transform Turkey’s politics. It is true that the increase in PKK terrorist attacks has revitalized the debate on identity issues, reducing any influence

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of new economic measures to a secondary position. This escalation of violence has also obliged the JDP to switch to a rather nationalist discourse to pre-empt the prospect that the war-like situation in the region would empower the nationalist tendency and the MHP among the Turkish electorate. One may conclude that the JDP’s policies in its fourth year in office have shown that the party’s democratization program does not in itself constitute an established plan for solving the Kurdish question. Yavuz and Ozcan (2006: 103) enumerate four reasons for the non-existence of an established policy: (1) Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s definition of the Kurdish question is very different from that of the Kurdish actors, especially the PKK-led political parties; (2) there is a major conflict between the state institutions and the JDP over the conceptualization of the Kurdish issue and the foundations of the Turkish Republic; (3) one of the primary fears of the JDP is that the Kurdish issue could split the party and undermine its support in Turkish-Muslim provinces in central and eastern Anatolia; and (4) the Kurdish issue has the potential to lead to a major confrontation with the military. In addition, some other factors should be taken into consideration: the declining support for the EU among the Turkish people, the rise of Turkish nationalist sentiments due to the increase in PKK attacks and the unwillingness of the Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP) to put a critical distance between itself and the terrorist organization. These considerations have meant that the JDP has rearranged its priorities on the issue and shifted its emphasis to the economic aspects of the problem while identity and the cultural rights dimension have been put aside for later attention.16 It is reasonable to conclude that the party’s new politics towards the Kurdish question is parallel to its policy on the Islamic demands: a strategy of patience for change. This policy has been a result of the awareness that whenever the JDP tries to redress the Kurdish question, it confronts harsh criticism from the conservative-nationalist deputies and groups within the party. In one sense, the search for a new policy of identity would jeopardize the existing coalition within the JDP before the coming presidency elections and the general elections in 2007.

Conclusion: The End of Reformism? In its fourth year of government (2006), the JDP has found itself confronted with many criticisms by the liberal, leftist and even Islamist intellectuals on the grounds that it has lost its thrust of reform. It is accused of becoming more and more status-quo oriented while displaying hesitations in making radical decisions about the thorny issues of Turkish politics. Overall, one may argue that the JDP has been losing its transformative power in Turkish

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and Islamist politics through inviting the ‘Europeanization’ and ‘internationalization’ of domestic issues. The changing global socio-political landscape or what Timothy G. Ash (2006) calls ‘Multi-polar disorder,’ also makes politics a difficult venture at home and abroad, compounding the task of the JDP. The task of transformation is becoming much more subjected to the resolution of internal tensions and to the daily political calculations over the elections of the next president. Moreover, it seems that after the start of the negotiations with the EU, Europeanization as an agent of transformation has begun to lose its earlier transformative pull on domestic issues due to many factors including the growing opinion that the EU favors the Greek side in the resolution of the Cyprus issue. It is also natural that while the Europeanization process affects many core areas of national policy, such as those related to identity issues, it also creates some crucial tensions. Moreover, the more the EU integration process loses its influence on the Turkish political system, the more the fault-lines of domestic politics around identity issues come to the surface and challenge the stability of the JDP government. The dilemma for the leadership of the JDP is that the politicians have to bear the burden of persuading the Turkish public about the hurdles of the EU accession process. In its fourth year in office, it seems that the JDP has to come to terms with some important problems. These can be classified into six groups: 1. unsatisfied expectations around identity issues: Islamic demands and the Kurdish question; 2. difficulties of the EU negotiation process and declining support for this process on the part of the people; 3. high unemployment and problems of income distribution; 4. the recent rise in PKK terrorist attacks; 5. the JDP’s institutionalization and internal democracy problems and the deficiencies in the local institutional branches of the party; and 6. the problem of placating the rising concerns and fears of the opposition and the top echelons of the bureaucracy ranging from universities to the courts. It seems clear that the inter-elite consensus is a sine qua non of consolidated democratic rule in Turkey.

Notes 1 Ziya Onis (2006: 208) has enumerated three reasons for the JDP’s electoral success: a cross-class electoral alliance incorporating both the business sector and the urban poor; a strong and credible record of the National Outlook Movement (NOM) parties in municipal government; and the failure of the conventional parties in the center. National Outlook (Milli Goru¨s) Movement is the original movement that fed five political parties in the multi-party period of the Republic: National Order Party (1970–71), National Salvation Party (1972–81), Welfare

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Party (1983–98), Virtue Party (1997–2001) and Felicity Party (2001–). Four of these parties were closed down by the Kemalist regime on the ground that they violated the secular nature of the Republic. The adjective milli signifies both religious and national connotations in Turkish. The Copenhagen Criteria require stability of institutions guaranteeing democratic governance, human rights and a functioning market economy. Starting at the end of 1996, a series of events during the Welfare Party led coalition government culminated in a crisis for the Turkish political regime. On 28 February 1997, the National Security Council (MGK; Milli Gu¨venlik Kurulu) made recommendations to the government about measures to be taken against the increasing anti-secular activities. This military intervention brought down the Welfare-led coalition government and later the Welfare Party was closed down by the Turkish Constitutional Court for its anti-secular activities. After reading an Islamic poem (The mosques are our barracks, the domes our helmets/The minarets our bayonets, and the faithful our soldiers) at a 1998 rally, Erdogan was charged with spreading hatred based on religious cleavages. He was jailed for four months and barred from taking any government office until the Turkish Constitution was changed in 2003. With the Proclamation of the Tanzimat in 1839, known as Gu¨lhane Hatt-ı Serifi (the Noble Edict of the Rose Garden), the Ottoman statesmen aimed to restructure the Ottoman administration and to establish the rule of the law. This edict guaranteed the safety of life, honor and property of all Ottoman subjects and the equality of Muslims and non-Muslims before the law. Davutoglu’s new perspective on the strategic significance of Turkish foreign policy is one of the most important sources which frames and theorizes the JDP’s foreign policy. He is a professor of international relations and the author of four books. Since 2003 when he was appointed as the chief advisor to the Prime Minister Erdogan, Prof. Davutoglu has been able to shape important elements of Turkish foreign policy during the JDP government. For instance, the party has been recently criticized by many neo-con circles in the US and Israel for having had talks with Khaled Mashaal, a Hamas leader in Ankara as this visit is interpreted as a sign of the JDP’s will to go back to its Islamic origins. For more on the party’s new Middle East policy, see Balci and Yesiltas (2006: 18–37). The JDP government has attempted to restructure the system of public administration in Turkey in 2004. There are two basic documents that define the JDP government’s intention to restructure the administration apparatus: the Urgent Action Plan of the Government and the Draft Framework law on Public Administration. The latter was approved by the Parliament on 15 June 2004, however it was vetoed by the President on 3 August 2004.Within this context, the government prepared a reform program, including the Law on Municipalities, the Law on Metropolitan Municipalities, the Law on Provincial Local Governments and some other laws. The priority behind this reform program is to strengthen local authorities, to increase the degree of transparency for citizens, to create partnership with civil society, and to ensure local self government context, participation, effectiveness and administrative autonomy. Another attempt on the same issue was blocked by the YOK (the Higher Education Board) which asked the Council of State to annul the decree prepared by the Education Ministry. The decree was intended to allow graduates and former students of vocational schools to register at the Open High School to receive a normal high school diploma. The Council decided to partially consent on 8 February 2006 to the YOK application to suspend and annul the decree. The JDP government’s attempt to bypass the presidential veto by enforcing the reform by decree was unsuccessful (Turkish Daily News 2006c).

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10 Tesettu¨r (the veiling of women) is an obligatory practice for Muslim women in Islam though it is not a uniquely Islamic convention. It has a long history in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Islamist women believe that tesettu¨r is a way to secure personal liberty in a world that objectifies women. 11 Leyla Sahin was a student at the Istanbul University Cerrahpasa, Faculty of Medicine and was dismissed from the university in 1998 because she insisted on wearing a headscarf. In June 2004, the European Court of Human Rights decided that Turkey had not violated any human rights, and Sahin appealed to the Court’s Grand Chamber. The Grand Chamber upheld the decision in November 2005. 12 Fuat Gec¸en, Hatay deputy and Mahmut Koc¸ak, Afyon deputy were purged from the JDP due to their criticism towards corruption at Hatay party local branches and Erdogan’s leadership. 13 This law which aims to better coordinate the state’s antiterrorism efforts is criticized harshly by media and intellectuals, seeing it as contravening human rights. The law provides prison terms of up to three years for ‘propaganda’ by way of shouting slogans and carrying banners during demonstrations in favor of terror groups. Wearing emblems or uniforms of outlawed groups or covering one’s face during demonstrations are punishable under the propaganda charge. Media organs that disclose the names or identities of public officials or informants involved in antiterrorism efforts will face a prison term of between one and three years. The same sentence will apply to those who publish the statements of terrorist groups (Turkish Daily News 2006a). 14 A prominent journalist, Ali Bayramoglu argues that this law narrows the space of freedoms and turns expression of thought and use of symbols in public life into an offence as well as reducing ‘‘the Kurdish question clearly and merely to a problem of terrorism.’’ (Bayramoglu 2006b). 15 Together with a former PKK member, the two military officers were arrested in November 9 2005, after a grenade exploded in a bookshop, killing one man in Semdinli, Hakkari. The car in which they were attempting to flee was found to contain grenades identical to the one used in the attack, plus a sketch map of the scene of the bombing. After the arrest of the two officers, General Yasar Bu¨yu¨kanıt, the second-ranking general, publicly described one of the suspected bombers as ‘a good kid.’ The Prosecutor of Van, Ferhat Sarikaya indicted not only the two officers but also Bu¨yu¨kanıt, for trying to influence the judiciary, establishing an organized crime ring and helping to set up execution squads at the height of the Kurdish war in the 1990s (Birch 2006). Bu¨yu¨kanıt is expected to become chief of staff in August 2006. Consequently, Mr Sarıkaya was dismissed from his post as prosecutor. He was accused of providing propaganda material for supporters of terrorism and politicizing the judicial system. 16 Having moved to the socio-economic aspects of the problem, the JDP government has launched a new initiative entitled the KOYDES Project (Koylerin Altyapısını Destekleme Projesi) in order to revive and normalize the economic and social life in the evacuated villages in the southern Anatolia. This initiative is expected to contribute to the marginalization of the PKK in the region (Altaylı 2006).

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Turkish Daily News (2006a) ‘Commission passes antiterrorism bill’, Turkish Daily News, 23 June. —— (2006b) ‘Demonstrations show no sign of abating’, Turkish Daily News, 31 March. —— (2006c) ‘Imam-hatip Plan fails’, Turkish Daily News, 9 February. Ugur, E. (2004) ‘Intellectual Roots of ‘‘Turkish Islam’’ and Approaches to the ‘‘Turkish Model’’’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 24: 327–45. Yavuz, H.M. (2006) ‘Introduction’, in M.H. Yavuz (ed.) The Emergence of a New Turkey: Democracy and the Ak Parti, Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Yavuz, M.H. and Ozcan, N.A. (2006) ‘The Kurdish Question and Turkey’s Justice and Development Party’, Middle East Policy, 13: 102–19. Yetkin, M. (2006) ‘Otomobilde Soylenenler’, Radikal, 27 April. Yıldız, A. (2003) ‘Politico-Religious Discourse of Political Islam in Turkey: The Parties of National Outlook’, Muslim World, 93: 187–209.

Part II

Secular establishment and the Justice and Development Party

5

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When the ‘imputation of bad motive’ dominates an institutional culture, citizens do not reason together so much as they reason against one another. They reflexively attack persons instead of policies, looking for what is behind policies rather than what is in them (Gutman and Thompson 1996: 360).

Introduction Modern Turkey has not emerged as a result of an autonomous modernization ‘process;’ it rather rests on the modernizing ‘offensives’ of Kemalism, the official ideology named after the founder of the Republic, Mustafa Kemal Atatu¨rk. The still-lingering legacy of the top-down nature of Kemalist modernization can be defined as a continuous attempt on the part of the state elite to control, limit, and even instruct the political sphere while ‘modernizing’ and ‘democratizing’ the polity. Democratization is often pitted against the survival of the secular regime. Dubbed as ‘politicization,’ political representation of differences and interests has assumed negative connotations and the political class is expected to serve the needs of the state to control and contain societal dynamics rather than representing and channelling them. Consequently, despite successful integration with the world, especially in the last two decades, politics in Kemalist Turkey has been marked by a zero-sum understanding of power, a permanent distaste of political activity, an intrinsic distrust for the political class, and periodic military interventions into the political sphere. In fact, the political history of Republican Turkey can be read in terms of the ebb and flow of the hold of Kemalist ideology on politics and society (C ¸ ınar 2004). The Turkish political sphere is therefore unable to regenerate itself by re-examining and redefining fundamental societal issues. The last attempt at redesigning the political sphere was initiated by the military on 28 February 1997 (Cizre and C ¸ ınar 2003). The accession of the now-defunct Islamist Welfare Party (Refah Partisi, WP) to office in June 1996 reaffirmed the military’s conviction that there was a grave reactionist

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threat to the regime, compelling them to restore the Kemalist political centre. Consequently, the WP-led coalition government was forced to resign and the political sphere was subjected to the securitizing logic of the military-led secular establishment. The military held the whole political class and even ordinary citizens responsible for the growth of Islamist reactionism. The political class, the upper echelons of the bureaucracy, the judiciary, the media and ordinary citizens were assigned the duty of protecting secularism (as defined by the military) and joining the crackdown campaign on Islamic politics. In the meantime, demands for human rights and democracy were associated with separatism and the proponents of alternative approaches and opinions were categorized as enemies of the Republic who did not deserve tolerance and civility (Sabah 2000; Radikal 2001; Akyol 2000). The 28 February process was distinct from the projects of previous military interventions in at least two respects. First, compared to the previous interventions at the institutional level, this time the military intervened at the public opinion-making level (C ¸ ınar 1997), marking the beginning of the tradition of directly addressing the people in the same manner as a classical political party (Cizre 2000). Second, in sharp contrast to the accommodative politics of the 1980 coup administration, which utilized religion as a means of maintaining community (Cizre-Sakallıoglu 1996a; Birtek and Toprak 1993), the relationship between Islam and secularism-cum-democracy was conceived in zero-sum terms, representing a return to the radical secularism of the early republican era. The emergence of the Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, JDP) in the November 2002 elections, its landslide victory, and its political style were, to a large extent, facilitated by the above features of the 28 February process and the policies implemented in this new phase of state-Islam interaction. The project of restoring the Kemalist centre actually prevented the established parties from providing an outlet for the hopes and demands of the people and heightened their level of alienation from the electorate (Cizre and C ¸ ınar 2003: 319). As a result, the established parties failed to connect and resonate with the people and were sent into oblivion by the electorate in 2002 elections. Having disassociated itself from its forerunner, the Islamist WP, the JDP, on the other hand, sent conciliatory, moderate and reformist messages; promised to prioritize the material problems of the people rather than military-defined security threats; and won 367 of 550 seats on the strength of its 34% share of the vote to the explicit dislike of the Kemalist circles. The JDP was founded in August 2001 by the reform-orientated younger generation of Islamists, who demanded a re-crafting of Islamist politics in line with the new political reality that had arisen after the ousting of the WP from government in 1997. Under the leadership of Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the founders of the JDP seemed to have drawn two main conclusions from the 28 February process. First, a WP-like party, which equates itself with Islam and employs a rhetorical discourse on Islamic motifs

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cannot represent a conservative Islamic identity in the political sphere, deliver on its promises, or manage to ride the wave of tension generated by the secular establishment and survive in power. Second, the far-reaching scope of the crackdown on Islamic politics, which went as far as arbitrarily defining provincial kebab houses as internal enemies on the basis of their alleged support for reactionism (Ilıcak 2005; Safak 1997), has demonstrated that the rule of law as the life-line of a political movement/party to physically survive has yet to be fully established in Turkey. JDP leaders believe that the political tension generated by secular-Islamist polarization provides a pretext for the crackdown on Islamic identity and, as recent history has shown, for the closure of their political parties. In this context, the founders of the new party realized that attaining and maintaining power required toning down the political polarization so that they would be able to conduct politics and protect the rights and liberties of the conservative constituency. Thus, the JDP founders strategically decided to exploit the opportunities provided by Turkey’s well-established electoral democracy and the political vacuum created by the 28 February process. In order to make inroads into Turkey’s power structure, the JDP refrained from associating, let alone equating itself with religion, employed a moderate and democratic language and espoused a pro-Western and pro-globalization stance.1 In this respect, the JDP’s strategy can be defined as a pragmatic competition for power within the existing institutional structures, which, according to Nasr (2005), will inevitably result in the consolidation of democracy. Leaving aside the discussion on the accuracy of the link between pragmatist political behaviour and democratic consolidation, the JDP’s power-strategy depended on the optimistic belief that the secular establishment would tolerate the individual religiosity of the JDP leaders and allow them to survive in power.2 There were also objective grounds for a third possible conclusion the key figures of the party could draw from the 28 February process: to adopt a liberal-oriented transformative outlook regarding Turkey’s political infrastructure. For one thing, the societal current that brought the JDP to power was a coalition of different social forces demanding further democratic reform (Ozel 2003: 91). Moreover, the secular establishment condemned the JDP for being born with ‘the original sin of Islamism’ and categorically denied the possibility of change within Islamist politics, which, in turn, rendered the JDP’s hopes for being tolerated by the establishment redundant. Finally, the harshness of the 28 February process’s crackdown on Islamic political activity may well have served to teach the founders of the JDP the importance of the rule of law and negative liberties in protecting civil rights and the liberties of the Islamic identity in particular.3 Combining its strategy of conducting pragmatic politics within existing power structures with its project of political transformation, the JDP government signifies the beginning of a new phase of interaction between secularism and Islam, state and society, and politics and society. In this new phase, the JDP represents a source of potential for society’s involvement in

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otherwise state-centred Westernization; for the long-waited political redefinition of Turkey’s political centre; and for turning Turkey into a contagious model of liberal democracy for the rest of the Muslim world. Nevertheless, the JDP’s capacity to realize these objectives as well as the ongoing power-struggle between the potential losers and winners of a possible transformation caution against reaching hasty conclusions about the outcome. The sections that follow delineate the course of interaction between the ‘reformist’ JDP and the ‘conservative’ Kemalist establishment comprising the military, judiciary, president, opposition Republican People’s Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi–RPP), top administrators of Turkish universities, some key right-wing politicians, the mainstream media and the Association of Turkish Industrialists and Businessmen (TUSIAD). It must be noted at the outset that the military has not been the only outlet of the Kemalist establishment in the post-2002 period. The President of the Republic4 and the upper echelons of the judiciary and the universities appointed by him have become the principal voices speaking on behalf of Kemalism. On the political party front, the RPP, as the founding party of the Republic, has aligned with the conservative Kemalist establishment.

Political Configuration in the Aftermath of the Elections One singular achievement of the Turkish experiment with democracy since 1950 has been the consolidation of electoral democracy, that is, a legitimate form of government has emerged only as a result of free and fair elections. This understanding of democracy is open to criticism as it yields to the majoritarian logic of electoral politics and omits the vital elements of the rule of law, limited government and inalienable rights (Cizre-Sakallıoglu 1996b: 9–10).5 Yet, set against the background of a state tradition that reserves the right to run the country exclusively to the state personnel (Heper 1985), electoral democracy is a colossal achievement in Turkey. There have been no coups d’etat in the immediate aftermath of elections in Turkish political history.6 In fact, the Turkish military differs from other third world armies in its acceptance of the legitimacy of democracy and civilian rule, while at the same time controlling the politicians according to its own values and principles (Cizre-Sakallıoglu 1997). In this respect, the institutionalization of electoral democracy does not mean automatic ‘ratification’ by the establishment of any political party or actor authorized by the electorate, it merely means the recognition of the need to deal and work with them.7 However, on this occasion, elections produced a two-party parliament in which the JDP holds two-thirds of the seats. Indeed, the JDP government (November 2002 to present) is the first single-party government since the 1987 elections and the strongest in terms of the number of seats it holds in the parliament since 1960. In this respect, the 2002 elections not only seemed to end decades of political fragmentation and weak governments, but also forced the establishment to share power with the JDP. The new

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political configuration, therefore, foreclosed the possibility of ousting the JDP from government. Instead, the Kemalist establishment has adopted a two-fold defensive strategy aimed at immobilizing the government and restricting the political sphere to protect the ‘secularist’ gains of the 28 February process. First, it rejected the possibility of a transformation in Islamist politics by upholding the maxim ‘once an Islamist, always an Islamist.’ In this respect, the source of the secular establishment’s threat perception is not the policies but the alleged Islamist identity of the JDP. Hence, the establishment persistently warns the public about the worrying magnitude of reactionism. The establishment does this because it wants the JDP to feel as isolated and insecure as possible. The second defensive strategy of the establishment involves the imposition of institutional limits on the political sphere. The President of the Republic, the judiciary, and the upper echelons of university administrations carry out their functions with constant reference to protecting secularism. The overall response of the establishment can be defined as ‘secularist populism’ that perceives the JDP government as representing ‘a crisis situation in itself’ and calls for the alertness of secularist forces. Secularist populism ‘communitizes’ the state in terms of not tolerating any ideology in the bureaucracy other than a secular-Kemalist one, discriminates against the JDP, and perceives politics as an activity redundant and largely harmful to societal interests.

Secularism as ‘Communitization’ of the State Secularism in Turkey has been the hub of a top-down modernization project, which, according to Sayyid (1997: 52–78), has orientalized the Turkish society in order to Westernize it simply because the Westernization of society required its definition as oriental in the first place. To protect the purity of the Westernization project, the modernizing elite refrained from power-sharing with the representatives of the society-to-be-modernized. As such, the Turkish practice of secularism has always had an authoritarian dimension to it (Gole 1996). Historical practice shows that while the secular aspect of the modernization project has been subject to redefinition, its power dimension has not been open to participation and public debate. Under the coup administration in the early 1980s, the ‘secular’ state integrated Islam into its official discourse and permitted some public manifestations of it in order to protect the national community from the leftist ‘threat.’ In the 1990s, however, as part of a larger project of reconfiguring politics from the top down, official secularism associated religious practices beyond the confines of individual conscience with reactionism. These (re)definitions of secularism have not been made through political debate and consensus. Rather, they were made by the extra-political actors of the secular establishment led by the military, and through extra-political methods.

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More importantly, since different definitions of secularism have always involved the promotion of an official Islam, secularism has acted as the catalyst for drawing the lines of demarcation between tolerable and intolerable religious practices. By virtue of promoting an official religion, even when it is confined to individual conscience, Turkish secularism did not point to the individualization of religion, but to the potential politicization of personal beliefs and thus the blurring of the distinction between the public and private. In this understanding, alternative practices of religion, like headscarf-wearing are considered political manifestations of a political idea. Hence, Turkish Courts tend to define headscarf-wearing not only as defiance against the secular regime, but also as an intrusion into other (secular) lifestyles (Keskin 2002). This is especially true for public figures who are expected to demonstrate their ‘secularity’ in both the public and private spheres. This approach not only helps the establishment remove the headscarf issue from the legitimate sphere of political debate, but also perpetuates the legitimacy deficit of the JDP in the establishment’s perspective. By virtue of its Islamist pedigree and its members’ headscarf-wearing wives, the JDP fails to meet the criterion set by President Sezer: those who run the state must first and foremost be on the side of the secular republic by being secular and by not letting religious belief influence worldly life (Milliyet 2004; Radikal 2005a). Hence, regardless of the nature of its policy proposals, the JDP becomes a distrusted and unwelcome political party for the establishment. Drawing extra attention to the party’s potential anti-secular activities publicly in a polarizing discourse, and sometimes embarrassing it is a constant practice resorted to by the president, the chief of the general staff, and the opposition leader.8 The emphasis on the JDP members’ Islamist pedigree and conservative lifestyles rather than on its policy proposals has reinforced the definition of the secular state as a community of devout believers of Kemalism. In fact, this ‘communitization’ of the state during the JDP government has reached unprecedented levels, damaging the levels of institutionalization achieved through the course of Republican history. Moise´s (2006: 594) points out that institutions are to assure distribution of power, as well as to guarantee the existence of a link between citizen’s judgement in respect to public authorities, and the correspondent decisional process. This link is what makes institutions such a fundamental aspect of [the] democratic regime, without which its functioning is ineffective. In this respect, making the state a community signifies an attempt at concentrating power in the hands of the Kemalist establishment by cutting the political links between the state and society and by rejecting the rightful claims of certain identities and interests to participate in the political

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system. Since the state-as-community has become the main characteristic of Turkish politics, institutions face the danger of losing their impartial and universalist features. The increasing communitization of the state in Turkish politics can be studied under two headings: political discrimination against the JDP and the devaluation of politics and democracy via the politicization of the judiciary. Both aim at restricting the political sphere and immobilizing the JDP, while increasing the potential for polarization. Negative Political Discrimination ‘Negative political discrimination’ indicates a shift in the terms of political debate from policies to their makers; that is, a modification of the political discourse in accordance with ‘who’ rather than ‘what,’ and a tendency to reject any cooperation with people from outside the community. The polarizing potential of such personalization has been further reinforced by the denial of the right to pose counter-argument by ‘the other.’ A good illustration of the modification of political discourse is the changing views of the current President of the Republic, Ahmet Necdet Sezer, on what the powers of the President should be. When he was the President of the Constitutional Court (1998–2000), Sezer endorsed a democratizing and liberalizing agenda that included the curtailment of the powers of the President on the grounds of his non-accountability. However, since the election of the JDP to office in 2002, Sezer finds the proposals transferring some of his powers to elected authorities dangerous for the stability of the secular regime. For him, the presidential powers to check and balance become more crucial when there is a single party in office (Radikal 2005b). Such an approach runs contrary to constitutional theory, which dictates that ‘‘any change in fundamental rules should be decided on its abstract merits, and not confused with the conjectural interests of particular incumbent politicians’’ (Whitehead 2002: 106). In fact, what (prior to the 2002 elections) the members of the establishment normally and legitimately criticized or endorsed, they have, since then, accepted as abnormal and illegitimate acts undermining the Republic. For example, even though it has previously endorsed anti-status-quoist agendas, the opposition RPP rejects participating in the JDP’s reform proposals concerning the Higher Education Council (Yu¨ksek Ogretim Kurumu, YOK), the public administration structure, the Kurdish issue, and Constitutional reform. In doing so, the RPP does not highlight any concrete anti-secular measures in the JDP’s policy proposals or try to make secular corrections in them, but emphasizes their suspicious nature and claims the existence of hidden Islamist intentions behind these proposals (Baykal 2003). Thereby, political life revolves not around concrete policy proposals but around the unsubstantiated deductions derived from the backgrounds and lifestyles of individual politicians.

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The campaign to set the JDP apart was not restricted to the political class. Indeed, the former Chief of Staff Hilmi Ozkok (2002–06) has interpreted the JDP’s intentions to redefine and reinterpret such key concepts as secularism, nationalism, and the state-society relationship as evidence of its Islamism and its willingness to deceive people by abusing the opportunities provided by democracy (H. Ozkok 2005). Similarly, when the JDP initiated a process to alter the much criticized structure and portfolio of the YOK, the then President of the YOK, Professor Kemal Gu¨ru¨z, categorically rejected the idea that the YOK needed to be reformed and dismissed the JDP government outright on the grounds of its alleged hidden Islamist intentions and questionable allegiance to the secular republic (Hu¨rriyet 2003). In an effort to provide a united front against the JDP, Gu¨ru¨z, moreover, used his powers to prevent the cooperation of some university rectors who found the JDP’s plans to reform the YOK well-intentioned and negotiable (Koylu¨ 2003). In this way, the possibilities of a common reasoning to resolve societal matters are hindered as the JDP, categorized as Islamist, becomes the centre of the debate rather than the other critical political issues on the table. Gathering data and keeping files about the private lives, personal choices and political opinions of the governors of the provinces, prosecutors, judges, top bureaucrats and academics is a practice that has been in force since the beginning of the 28 February process and has intensified since the election of the JDP in 2002. This practice further illustrates the increasing levels of the personalization of state and politics, the politicization of personal traits and the blurring of the distinction between public and private, all of which are detrimental to the establishment of the rule of law in Turkey. Whether one is married to a headscarf-wearing woman is now an important criterion in assessing the reliability and suitability for appointment, recruitment, and promotion in the state institutions (Radikal 2006a; Eksi 2006; turks.us 2006). The JDP is not exempt from the ‘personalizing’ attitude either. It has a tendency to select personnel from its own conservative religious community. Hence, while the secular establishment vilifies the graduates of religious schools as anti-republicans, the JDP gives them extra credits. Moreover, such an approach is spreading to all walks of life and is becoming more commonplace in Turkey. The Chief Executive of a leading Turkish bank, who is committed to secular causes, for example, declared that allegiance to the secular Republic is a very important merit in selecting and recruiting personnel for his bank (Hu¨rriyet 2006e). The Islamic banks, on the other hand, try to discover whether the applicant is a practicing Muslim during the job interview. Headscarf-wearing wives, mothers and even defendants are barred from attending the award ceremonies of their husbands, the graduation ceremonies of their children, or from appearing in court rooms (Radikal 2005c; Akgu¨nes 2005; Becerikli 2005). Furthermore, such practices have started to be ‘legalized’ by the Turkish courts.9 Because headscarf wearing is defined as

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an intrusion into the secular lifestyle, such verdicts tend to be framed as a protection of rights and liberties – not a violation of them. This is a good illustration of concepts assuming different meanings in different contexts. The failure of law to protect rights and liberties, in turn, reinforces the tendency of the JDP and its constituency to hold on to power as the only way to defend and/or expand their sphere of existence. As a corollary, just like the secular establishment, the JDP and its constituency show heightened levels of community-bonding and intolerance towards any political criticism.10 Therefore the JDP has failed to build alliances with the liberal sectors of society, even when pursuing democratization. This also led to its much criticized partisan appointments in the bureaucracy. By making inroads into the bureaucracy, the JDP tries to create an alternative community out of the state institutions. Devaluation of Politics: Legal and Institutional Limits to Politics The devaluation of politics indicates an unlinking of state and society, a limitation of the problem-solving capacities of politics, and the rejection of further democratization. It has mainly taken the form of imposing legal and institutional limits on political activity via a politicized judiciary. The JDP tries to make secularism re-examinable and re-definable in the political sphere mostly by framing the headscarf issue in terms of individual rights and liberties. In this way, the JDP hopes to shift the grounds of the debate away from the security considerations of the secular establishment to liberalization, and thereby expand the political sphere. The members of the secular establishment, like the former President of the Court of Appeals, Eraslan Ozkaya (2002–04), however, have responded to the JDP by equating its demands for freedom of religion and conscience with the establishment of an Islamist state (Radikal 2003b). Underlying this rejection of liberal principles is the belief expressed by the President Sezer that if secularism is reduced to freedom of religion, the headscarf issue will be a matter of individual freedoms and everyone will be able to live according to the legal system of his/her own choice (Sabah 2006; Hu¨rriyet 2006d). Similarly, when the JDP leader Erdogan tried to assure critics that they do not seek a religion-state but a state that respects religion, Sezer responded ‘‘there is no difference between the two’’ (Cumhuriyet 2001). Illustrating the priority of Turkish Westernization being on external appearances but not on political rights and liberties, in the post-2002 times, the establishment has dispensed with the language of freedoms and associated any criticism of this practice with reactionism. For the establishment, the function of politics is proper administration within the boundaries of existing law, but not the remaking of the ‘ground rules’ that are perceived as relating to the nature of the regime. For example, when Erdogan recognized the identity aspects of the Kurdish issue and apologized for the past mistakes committed by the state on 10 August 2005,

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a National Security Council statement issued on 23 August 2005 and orchestrated by the President warned him that the duty of the government is to fulfill the tasks set out in the constitution in accordance with the fundamental philosophy of the regime (Sabah 2005). That politics is not expected to address the fundamental issues can further be seen in President Sezer’s claim that the principle of secularism can only be reinterpreted by the Constitutional Court (Radikal 2002). This view was also endorsed by the former President of the Constitutional Court, Mustafa Bumin (2000– 2005) who stated that the verdicts of the Constitutional Court are binding on governments and even amending the constitution will not suffice to lift the ban on wearing headscarves in the public sphere (Radikal 2005d). Constitutional political orders, according to Erdogan Tezic¸, the current President of YOK and a professor of Constitutional Law, separate state authority from political power to make sure that elected politicians use their power without damaging the fundamental values of the state (Radikal 2004a). Since secularism relates to the fundamentals of the state and since there are Constitutional Court verdicts on the issue, the JDP government cannot alter the current exercise of secularism by enacting new laws (Radikal 2005e). In fact, the verdict of the Grand Chamber of the European Court of Human Rights that the ban on wearing headscarves at university premises does not constitute a violation of human rights is interpreted as an irrevocable resolution of the headscarf issue (ECHR 2005; Radikal 2004b; Hu¨rriyet 2005a). Henceforth, there is no such political or social issue as headscarves – for the politicians at least – to discuss. As part of their defensive strategy, the President, the top members of the judiciary, and the opposition RPP dismiss the JDP’s political influence and input as ‘contamination’ of the secular regime. Hence, the public’s attention is constantly drawn to the dangers of ‘politicization’ of societal issues and state institutions as well as cooperating with the JDP. Any political input of government in education policies is dubbed as ‘politicization,’ and thus dangerous for the stability of the secular regime. Proposals for the appointment of some members of the Constitutional Court and the State Audit Court by the parliament – otherwise a mechanism for bolstering the democratic legitimacy of the courts – have come under heavy attack by both the opposition RPP and the judiciary on the grounds that it will lead to the politicization of these institutions (Ozbudun 2006; Yeni Safak 2004; Radikal 2004c; Babacan 2006). Similarly, the former President of the Council of the State, Nuri Alan (2000–04), expressed his concerns about the eventual politicization of the judiciary if a member of parliament is elected as the next president in May 2007 (Radikal 2003c). Seeking a total insulation of the judiciary, the Chief Prosecutor of the High Court of Appeals, Nuri Ok (2003–), interpreted the Preamble of the Constitution, which stipulates cooperation between the executive, the legislature, and the judiciary, as a violation of impartiality of the judiciary and as a

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mechanism of the executive’s political tutelage over the judiciary (Hu¨rriyet 2006f). Modern constitutionalism in Turkey is increasingly replacing parliamentary sovereignty with Constitutional Court decisions that make policies in the form of judgements. This strategy of the establishment can be considered as being in line with the global judicialization of politics. However, the difference probably lies in the fact that whereas the global connotations of judicialization of politics may aim at limiting the rule of parliamentary majorities and protection of rights and liberties, in the case of Turkey, the concern is not just circumscribing majoritarian logic but removing political issues from the legitimate sphere of politics. Therefore, defining political issues as purely jurisprudential matters helps this cause rather than improving parliamentary democracy. In the Turkish version of the judicialization of politics, then, politics is not expected to address certain societal grievances and thereby fulfill its role as a link between state and society. In fact, the Turkish judicialization of politics categorizes political criticism of the current practice of secularism as disrespectful of the ‘rule of law’ and as a criminal act ‘abusing religion for political purposes.’ When a gunman raided a board meeting of the Council of State and fired at the judges, murdering one judge, in May 2006, this line of reasoning was stretched to the limit as the establishment as a whole, the President, the judiciary, the YOK, the military and the opposition RPP, held the JDP responsible for this attack on the basis of ‘careless remarks’ made by its policy makers concerning the judiciary’s verdicts on headscarf-wearing. In this way, concerns for protecting secularism from the JDP resulted in condemnation of political criticism rather than political violence. The establishment’s attempt at building a harmonious union of politics and law goes against the nature of both law and politics. This is because law is not separated from moral and political controversy (Halpin 2006: 165). Politics, presupposes the existence of different stances with regard to organization and values of society while law is expected ‘‘to resolve the questions of how society should be organized without having recourse to [a] uniform set of political values’’ (Halpin 2006: 165). However, the Turkish practice treats the law as if it is immune to moral and political disputes and uses it to discipline and instruct politics and society in accordance with a certain set of values. As such, the Turkish judiciary fails to show full commitment to liberal principles and the protection of individual rights and liberties that are essential for the establishment of democracy in Turkey. The top echelons of the judiciary, appointed by the President, align with the establishment in the devaluation and personalization of politics and in defence of secularism at the expense of democracy. The Turkish case, therefore, can be considered as a case of the politicization of the judiciary rather than judicialization of politics. In fact, Yigit Alpogan, the first civilian Secretary of the National Security Council, appointed in 2004, once criticized the Turkish judiciary for having a weak sense of freedoms and

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being in need of re-training for the implementation of the Europeanizing reforms introduced by the JDP (Radikal 2006c; see also Arslan 2002 for a discussion of pro-state conservatism of the Turkish Constitutional Court). This is a view endorsed by both the EU and pro-EU forces like TUSIAD in Turkey (Radikal 2006d; Keskin 2006). The failure of the Turkish judiciary to act in accordance with the principle of the rule of law can be seen as an illustration of the operation of Kemalism within an outdated paradigm. Under the post-modern impact of globalization, which enhances the legitimacy of differences, the task of state and politics is to construct a form of ‘togetherness’ within a democratic framework, which necessitates recognition of the heterogeneous nature of society in the first place (Sarıbay 2004: 60–77, 87–99). The Kemalist paradigm, however, fails to recognize and come to terms with the heterogeneous nature of society. Instead, by equating unity with sameness, it tries to impose homogeneity on society and politics via the law and thereby fails to actually unite the society.

Two Faces of the JDP The JDP’s power-sharing strategy with the establishment is centred on a moderate non-polarizing discourse avoiding ostentatious and exaggerated signs of religiosity and raising issues about Islamic identity in the language of individual freedoms. Moreover, the JDP tried to forestall political tension by assuring the establishment that it would seek their consensus in matters relating to Islamic identity. These have been a permanent feature of the JDP’s attempts at reaching a modus vivendi with the establishment. Given that the establishment has reduced the JDP to the status of ‘untouchable’ similar to the Indian caste system and prevented it from becoming a fully ‘normal’ party, the JDP’s de-emphasis on its Islamist pedigree was inadequate for a tension- and crisis-free power-sharing at best. It is forced to prove its allegiance to the secular Republic on a daily basis. In addition, the government, like any ‘normal’ government, is compelled to boost its legitimacy through a satisfactory governmental performance. The JDP’s EU bid is considered as an instrumental move to enhance its credibility in the eyes of establishment and the people (Duran 2006). In fact, the establishment’s crisis strategy seemed ineffective as long as the JDP resolutely pursued Turkey’s EU membership bid, which in itself necessitates the transformation of Turkish political structures. Since the 1999 Helsinki summit decision to extend candidate status to Ankara, the EU-membership project has become the main democratizing dynamic providing the elected governments with some leverage in standing up to the military-led establishment. In its Europeanizing drive, the JDP took some steps towards the liberalization of Turkish political system and thereby seemed to go beyond pragmatist power-sharing. However, once the accession negotiations for full membership started with the EU, as will be seen below, the JDP relegated

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reformism to a secondary place, resigned from leadership roles, and joined the establishment in nurturing an illiberal nationalist sentiment. A Promising Beginning: the JDP’s Reform Track The EU project does not succumb to the establishment’s securitizing logic, for the EU membership signifies the climax of the original Republican aim of Westernization and enjoys the status of being ‘above politics,’ i.e. being considered for the common good of modern Turkey. In this respect, although the establishment’s and the EU’s political designs clash, the former could not explicitly oppose Turkey’s Europeanization so that it would not lose its historical ‘vanguard of modernization’ position, on which its privileges are based. The unresolved dilemma for the secular coalition is that if they wholeheartedly support Turkey’s EU bid, they would eventually lose their political power and privileges. Also, as the EU membership has become a code-word for expressing various, and sometimes conflicting demands and hopes in Turkey, the establishment’s strong opposition to pro-EU membership policies would serve to reinforce the emerging picture from the 28 February process that Kemalism is no longer a project of dream and aspirations but an expression of a sheer power structure. Moreover, unlike its ancestor the WP, the JDP did not have an explicitly Islamist platform. Thus, when the JDP government shouldered a reform process, the opposition of the establishment to the same process had to be moderated. Instead, the secular circles registered their concerns about the implications of Europeanizing reforms and demanded concessions to be made in the rigid membership criteria on the grounds of Turkey’s unique conditions.11 The JDP, on the other hand, equated Europeanization with the Kemalist project of ‘‘reaching the level of contemporary civilizations’’ (Erdogan 2004) and in the early phases of its government, it proceeded with the reform process without clashing with the guardians of the republic directly. As a result, a series of legal reform packages were passed by the JDP government.12 The EU believed that these reforms had enabled Turkey to ‘‘sufficiently fulfill the Copenhagen criteria’’ and decided to start accession negotiations in October 2005. The JDP, therefore, seemed to have the upper hand vis-a`-vis the all powerful Kemalist establishment and initiated a process that would probably end politics as it is known in Turkey. Hence, the early performance of the JDP government brought hope to almost all aspects of public life and heightened levels of optimism in society (Erder and Tu¨zu¨n 2004). It was thanks to its early reformism that the JDP started to be called a progressive party by some international circles as well. Limits to the JDP’s Democracy Agenda The JDP’s Europeanization drive has made the conservative nature of the Kemalist establishment more visible. Since the establishment could not

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directly oppose the EU project, it instead attempted to associate it with the JDP’s alleged Islamist agenda. This is evident, for example, in the main opposition RPP’s claim that the JDP is actually abusing the EU project for its own anti-secular political ends (Cumhuriyet 2003; Berkan 2003). Some generals and Armed Forces Commanders, while endorsing the government’s commitment to be part of the EU with some reservations, directly attack it as an entity that is untrustworthy and hostile towards Turkey (C ¸ olgec¸en 2003; Arat 2005). It is even reported that in some garrisons, conscripts are indoctrinated with anti-EU sentiments by military personnel who apparently equate pro-EU stances with the betrayal of the country (E. Ozkok 2005). There is therefore an emerging polarization on the axis of Europeanization and secularism between the establishment and the JDP. In such a context, the JDP has emerged as the only pro-democratization political force, while the rest of the political class seemed to align itself with the conservative establishment. However, the unfolding of the Europeanization project has revealed the defects of the JDP’s own understanding and strategy of democratization as well. The JDP lacks a practical democratization agenda independent from EU membership requirements. Moreover, some of the required reforms pose challenges to the JDP and thus reveal the party’s limits in pursuing Europeanization. For one thing, the JDP’s understanding of democracy seems to be centred on strengthening the elected political class vis-a`-vis the establishment-dominated state, but fails to take into account the importance of state-society relationships and power relations beyond the immediate political sphere for furthering democracy. Strengthening the political class vis-a`-vis the state elite can be considered a step towards democratization by virtue of the former being directly accountable to the people. However, democratization is also about preparing the conditions for true accountability by transforming the relationship between state and society, politics and society, and between various groups in society. The JDP’s ‘conservative democrat’ approach recognizes the differences at the level of society, but denies the power-relations between them by claiming their harmonious unity. In fact, the JDP’s leader, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, believes that ‘‘the biggest damage one can cause to this country is to bring our differences to the political level’’ (Radikal 2004d). The JDP, therefore, reproduces Kemalism’s distaste for ‘politicization,’ while rejecting the state’s tutelage over the political class (Erdogan cited in Radikal 2004e). That the JDP’s understanding of democracy is confined to making the political class autonomous from the state elite is also evident in the uneasy reaction its leadership shows to public criticism and in its selective employment of the language of pluralism. As such, the JDP maintains the dominant monist conceptualization of the public sphere and prolongs Turkey’s entrapment in an electoral democracy, which puts a premium on strong leadership to ‘save the people’ rather than on better representation and more effective articulation of the political class with popular ideas. In

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effect, the JDP essentially opts for a political class-dominated state, but not necessarily the transformation of the relationship between state and society. This understanding of democracy creates hurdles for the JDP’s will for further and consistent pursuit of the EU project, which necessitates not only granting autonomy to the political class from the tutelage of the nonaccountable state elite, but also relieving society from the centralizing-unifying nationalist discourse of the regime. Another factor that presents a problem for the JDP’s EU project is the EU’s progress reports remaining muted on matters relating to freedom of expressing a Sunni Islamic identity, such as removing the ban on wearing headscarves on university premises whilst demanding improvement in the religious liberties of Alevi and Christian minorities. In fact, the Grand Chamber of the European Court of Human Rights practically approved the ban on headscarves in universities on 11 November 2005.13 Most importantly, the JDP’s instrumentalist endorsement of Europeanization has meant that its democratization drive went without any other content than prospective EU membership. However, as Turkey accelerated its integration with the EU, dissident voices within the EU have become more vociferous.14 In this context, the JDP’s instrumentalist approach is self-defeating and perhaps plays right into the hands of domestic conservative forces who criticize the democratizing reforms on the grounds that the EU will never let Turkey in. To summarize, the EU project was a suitable instrument for the JDP to increase its internal and external credibility and political power regarding the establishment. That the party adopted such an instrumentalist approach is perhaps due to the fact that winning elections does not necessarily provide governments, and certainly did not provide the JDP government, with sufficient wherewithal to rule. As the Europeanization proceeded, difficulties derived from within the EU and from the JDP’s own understanding of democracy and the latter’s political will to pursue the project has been eroded. In the final analysis, the JDP does not seem to have a democratizing strategy. It continues to reduce democracy to holding free and fair elections and to pit people’s power against state power, omitting the liberal dimensions of democracy. A New Modus Vivendi? The JDP’s early Europeanizing drive revealed not only the conservative nature of the establishment, but also how much Turkey lags behind achieving status as a full fledged liberal democracy. However, the JDP’s understanding of democracy and Europeanization also turned out to be inadequate for a consistent pursuit of a liberalizing agenda. Hence, when it became clear in December 2004 that the EU would start accession negotiations in October 2005, the JDP relegated reformism to a secondary place and turned to power-sharing with the establishment. With the loss of momentum in the

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pro-EU reform track, all of the anomalies of Turkish pragmatism came to the fore. One major motivation for this pragmatism is provided by the presidential elections in April/May 2007 which has convinced the JDP of the need to focus on maintaining power until the election of the new president. The decision is based on the fact that the role of the Turkish president is not as symbolic as it is in other parliamentary systems. In fact, the Turkish president is entrusted with significant appointment powers especially to the peak levels of judiciary and bureaucracy. With a president of its choice, the JDP hopes to reap the benefits of the president’s appointment powers and overcome the Kemalist resistance to its rule. In the meantime, however, the JDP neglected the need for institution-building and rule-making for further democratization and started to join causes with the conservative establishment on a range of issues. The JDP’s shift from democratizing reforms to institutional conservatism can be seen in two instances: the Kurdish issue and the amendments to the Anti-Terror Law. A few months before the beginning of accession negotiations, Erdogan apologized for the past mistakes committed by the state in dealing with the Kurdish issue and acknowledged that hindrances to the public expression of the Kurdish identity are an aspect of the problem. Since then, the JDP has steadily aligned with the establishment and reduced the Kurdish issue to a matter of armed separatism only, accused those who criticize the torture and political killings in the southeast of being the mouth-piece of the armed separatist Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), and refused to meet with the co-chairman of the pro-Kurdish Democratic Society Party (Demokratik Toplum Partisi-DSP), Ahmet Turk, on the grounds that the DSP does not recognize the PKK as a terrorist organization and condemn it (Radikal 2005f; Iflazoglu 2006). Upon nomination by the general staff, the JDP government also appointed a retired general, Edip Baser, who is known for his hawkish approach to the Kurdish issue and who considers the PKK a problem created by the Europeans (Hu¨rriyet 2006a), as Turkey’s anti-PKK coordinator in the struggle against the armed Kurdish separatist enclaves in Northern Iraq. Since his appointment, Baser has publicly warned the elected mayors in the Kurdish dominated south-eastern region not to abuse the tolerance and patience of citizens with their acts and discourses and asked for their removal from the office (Hu¨rriyet 2006b and 2006c). The JDP’s turn to statist-nationalist politics can further be seen in the amendments to the Anti-Terror Law. In June 2006, to meet with the Turkish General Staff’s criticism that, because of Europeanizing reforms, the TAF was fighting against terrorism with limited means (Hu¨rriyet 2005b), the JDP amended the Anti-Terror Law in such a way that a wide range of criminal offences became punishable as acts of terrorism. This retrograde trend continued in the failure of the JDP to amend the much criticized article 301 of the Turkish Penal Law, which hinders freedom of expression by criminalizing the vaguely defined act of ‘denigrating Turkish identity.’ Some members of the JDP government, like Justice Minister Cemil C ¸ ic¸ek, who is critical of

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the EU and cool to the prospects of amending the article, have played pivotal roles in aligning with the pro-establishment forces. Combined with its instrumentalist approach to Europeanization and inadequate understanding of democracy, both of which increase the JDP’s susceptibility to statist-nationalist rhetoric, a number of developments have helped the JDP’s conservative turn. First, the PKK orchestrated intifadalike riots, which lasted three days in the spring of 2006 in Diyarbakir, have prompted a nationalist reaction in Turkey. These events also provided a pretext for the pro-establishment institutions, like the universities, to attack the JDP government by publishing announcements in dailies calling the JDP to take legal measures to protect the indivisible integrity of the country, to reevaluate the relations with the EU in this light, and to reconsider selling property to foreigners. Second, the criminalization of the denial of Armenian genocide claims by the French parliament in October 2006 and the 2005 British anti-terror law, which retreats from civil liberties in the name of combating terrorism, have strengthened the hands of the nationalist-conservative forces in Turkey. The claim that the EU is trying to undermine the powers of the state, and thereby Turkish unity, by asking for freedoms that the EU countries themselves lack has resonated with many people. Third, despite the start of accession negotiations, the half-hearted European support for Turkey’s full membership has weakened the hands of the pro-reform circles and reformist aspects of the JDP. However, the impact of these developments would have been lessened had the JDP been a less instrumentalist and pragmatic party with a clear vision of democratization.

Conclusion Turkey entered the new millennium with a strong JDP government opening a new phase of interaction with the Kemalist establishment, supposedly with the aim of bringing political fragmentation to an end and promising a liberal transformation of the political structures. The establishment’s power strategy in this new phase of interaction has relied on attributing an Islamist dentity to the party. For the establishment, the JDP, with its members’ Islamist pedigree and conservative lifestyles, signifies a crisis of state. Since political configuration does not allow for its ousting, the situation calls for constant alert with a view of protecting the secular regime. ‘Watchfulness’ of the JDP, in turn, involves a focus not on its policies but on its Islamist past and Islam-sensitive political stance, which in turn results in the defence of the state as a secular community. In the meantime, political criticism of the current state of affairs, including the practice of secularism and the constitutional and institutional setup, is associated with disrespect for the ‘rule of law,’ reactionism, and even with encouragement of Islamist political violence while the language of liberal pluralism is found detrimental to the security of the secular republic. The initial expansion of

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the political sphere via Europeanization as well as the emergence of the JDP as a dominant political force reinforced the communitizing tendencies of the establishment, as well as the tendency for polarization. The JDP could not produce a democratizing and liberalizing counterstrategy to overcome the negative political discrimination against itself – except to attempt to prove that a pro-EU political party cannot have a hidden Islamist agenda. However, first, its pro-Europeanization agenda was inconsistent, and second, both its Europeanization and democratization agendas are still associated with the JDP’s hidden Islamist agenda by the Kemalist establishment. The JDP’s power-orientation, i.e. the perceived need to enlarge ‘protected’ domains of control and influence as a way of staying in power, has become more prevalent, especially since the lull in the Europeanization process began. Hence, the JDP reciprocates with the same strategy of community-creating and personalizing politics: it does not trust individuals from outside its own community. Moreover, the JDP’s own community tends to immediately reject any secular objection against the JDP, extends unconditional support for the party, and adopts a similar attitude to that of the secularist sectors: going to the Friday prayer, for example, becomes an important ‘merit’ in recruiting personnel for the bureaucracy as well as in those organizations in the private sector which fall within the party’s orbit. Turkish society is thereby increasingly divided into two parallel power-oriented sectors that are mutually exclusive of each other in the sense of linking their own survival to the perpetuation of the state as a community and/or the party-inoffice as the community rather than to the establishment of the true rule of law. The heightened role of the President and the judges and prosecutors appointed by him in the course of interaction between the JDP and the Kemalist establishment has increased the importance, for both parties, of the question of who will be the next President in May 2007. It seems that the reason why the JDP remains mute in the face of the devaluation of politics and politicization of the judiciary is to control the level of political tension and survive in power. In this way, the JDP hopes to be able to determine the next president, win the 2007 general elections, and thus expand its sphere of influence and power. Are there grounds for pessimism about the future of democratization under the JDP government in Turkey? On the one hand, the counter-JDP political class, by aligning with the establishment, has explicitly dispensed with the liberal language of liberties. On the other hand, democratization under the JDP rule did not result in an autonomous dynamic for liberalization. On the contrary, it reinforced and deepened conservative tendencies in Turkey chiefly due to the JDP’s inadequate understanding of democracy, its lack of a strategy for democratization, and its consequent inability to pursue Europeanization consistently. As it stands, a parliament dominated by the JDP and a president determined by the JDP in the post-2007 era

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may, in all likelihood, result in the further expansion of state-as-a-JDPfriendly-community rather than in its liberal transformation.

Notes 1 For the transformation of political Islam in Turkey see chapters 1, 2 and 4 in this volume, C ¸ ınar (2006) and Dagı (2005). 2 Foreign Minister, founding-member and deputy chair of the JDP, Abdullah Gu¨l, cited in Tasgetiren (2001). 3 The JDP’s Programme and Election Declaration both problematize Turkey’s bureaucratic-statist structures and advance a liberalizing agenda. See, AK Parti Sec¸im Beyannamesi 2002, [JDP Election Declaration 2002] (np, nd) and Ak Parti Kalkınma ve Demokratiklesme Programı [JDP Development and Democratization Program] (np, 2002). 4 The Turkish President, elected by the Parliament for seven years, is assigned with the task of safeguarding the state and cannot be a member of a political party. The 1982 Constitution entrusts a technically speaking ‘politically irresponsible’ president with greater powers than typical parliamentary regimes (see Heper and C ¸ ınar 1996). 5 Contrary to the positive correlation between pragmatism and democratic consolidation established by Nasr (2005), electoral democracy in Turkey has been functional in maintaining a state-centred and elitist status quo and some form of power-sharing between the state-focused elites and popularly elected politicians. The military establishment has played a very strong role in key policy decisions without taking any political responsibility. This status quo helped perpetuate the perennial ‘weakness’ of Turkey’s popularly elected political class, which failed to remove the military from the centres of power. On the other hand, electoral democracy allowed ‘ordinary people’ to claim stakes in the regime via a political class that survives by distributing resources and favours through a patronage network. In effect, electoral democracy since 1950 cannot be said to have transformed the state-society relationship in a liberal direction in Turkey; rather, it has reinforced the neo-patrimonial character of the state. 6 An exception here is the junta leader Colonel Talat Aydemir and his collaborator Fethi Gu¨rcan, whose failed attempts to take over on 22 February 1962 and 20 May 1963 have resulted in their purge from the military and eventual execution on 5 July 1964 and 27 July 1964 respectively. 7 In fact, it has been the tradition of the military to intervene in post-election political affairs by making and breaking governments and by favouring some elected politicians over others since the early 1960s. 8 For example, on 23 April 2003, the president, the military leaders, the judiciary and the opposition RPP, refused to join the annual National Sovereignty reception, hosted by the speaker of the Parliament Bulent Arınc¸, despite the JDP’s assurances that their headscarf-wearing wives would not be present. Henceforth, political appointments by the government, like the appointment of the new president for the Central Bank, become a crisis situation. Hoping to reap the benefits of a potential polarization, the RPP’s leader Deniz Baykal adds fuel to this approach by inviting every citizen who is at peace with the secular Republic to unite with the RPP against the threat to the regime posed by the JDP (Radikal 2003a). 9 An illustration is the case of a teacher who earned a position abroad through a competitive exam, but was not appointed because his wife wore a headscarf. The information about the wife was passed on by the intelligence services and the Court approved the administration’s decision (see Radikal 2006b).

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10 For example, in a public speech he delivered at Bilkent University, in Ankara on 30 June 2006, Yılmaz Ensarioglu, formerly the president of the Islam-sensitive human rights organization Mazlum-Der, has stated that since the election of the JDP, the Islamist media is turning a blind eye to Mazlum-Der’s critical remarks about the government. 11 The establishment has been concerned about the expansion of democratic rights and liberties. They fear that recognition and representation of Kurdish and Alevi minorities, for example, will be detrimental for the unity of the country. One of the EU criteria, establishment of civilian supremacy over the military and the increased transparency and accountability of the military, has been heavily criticized for undermining the military as the founder and the guardian of the country and the secular-republican regime. 12 Alteration in the composition and portfolio of the military-dominated National Security Council, which once set the parameters of the civilian policy-making; permission to broadcast in Kurdish and teach Kurdish in private language schools; and public expression of alternative views on such taboo topics as the Armenian Genocide claims were among the reforms introduced by the JDP government. The JDP has also managed to alter Turkey’s traditionally status quo stance on the divided island of Cyprus and has taken some genuine steps towards its unification in accordance with UN Secretary General Kofi Annan’s plan. Some, like the EU Commissioner Gunter Verheugen, referred to speedy reforms under the JDP government as ‘‘the second revolution in Turkey after the establishment of the Republic by Ataturk’’ (Birand 2004). 13 As a consequence of the Court’s decision, the conservative Muslim constituency of the JDP started to question whether the major EU circles converged with Kemalism in upholding the Orientalist claim that Islam and democracy are incompatible (Tasgetiren 2004; Ocaktan 2004). By implication, the constituency of the JDP started to think that the EU’s vision of democratic public sphere is closed to the Islamic identity. 14 For the EU, reaching the decision to start accession negotiations with Turkey on 3 October 2005 required a long process of internal debate within itself. Accession negotiations have eventually started, but the possibility of other options such as partial membership and privileged partnership are now inscribed in official EU documents.

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The Justice and Development Party and the military Recreating the past after reforming it? ¨ mit Cizre U

The landslide election victory, in November 2002, of Turkey’s Islam-sensitive Justice and Development Party (JDP)—the offspring of a banned Islamist party1—has opened up the possibility for a dramatic change in the character and content of Turkey’s domestic and foreign policies. Significantly, as part of the democratic requirements of entry into the European Union (EU), the government included in its reform agenda the resetting of the civil-military balance in favor of constitutionally elected organs. This essay assesses the international and domestic catalysts as well as the JDP government’s political motives and policies directed at the balance of power that has served to sustain the military’s self-ordained ‘guardian’ role in Turkish public life. The focus on the military is selective: the essay acknowledges that the Turkish military is a prominent member of the secular establishment comprising the president of the republic, the segment of the judiciary dealing with regime and national security issues (i.e., public prosecutors, the constitutional court and the former state security courts), high echelons of the civilian bureaucracy and, especially, the foreign ministry, which has historically formulated and conducted foreign policy in close coordination with the Turkish General Staff. However, beyond the basic interest that all the agents of the establishment share in their distrust of the JDP’s policy agenda, a slightly different set of incentives and constraints apply to the military in its thinkings over and dealings with the JDP because of its ‘guardian’2 role. Let us note that the Turkish Armed Forces (TAF) redefined and intensified its ‘guardian’ mission in the last decade in stronger terms to lock out Islamic and Kurdish ‘threats’ from public life, causing a shift in civil-military balance further in its favor. In other words, during the 1990s, changes in civil-military relations in Turkey were intimately connected with the armed forces’ identification of political Islam and the Kurdish question as the foremost internal threats to the secular character of the Turkish state. The essay rests on two distinct time frames and three foci or problematics which, when combined, provide an analytical framework for explaining the changing character and path of the government-military interaction since 2002. There are two distinct phases in the JDP government’s policy on the

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military since 2002, with opposite contents and outcomes. The first phase spans approximately the first three years of the government’s life from the 2002 elections to the launching of negotiations with the EU, in October 2005, to fulfill Ankara’s bid for full membership. In this period, the JDP’s democratic mandate, together with the dynamism of the 2002 electoral process, acted as powerful forces behind the government’s drive to curtail the TAF’s political prerogatives and tutelage as a major part of the reform agenda. The government divested considerable energy into the landmark democracy package of 7th August 2003 designed to bring Turkey in line with the EU criteria. That package included a major constitutional amendment designed to curb the powers of the National Security Council (NSC), considered to be Turkey’s parallel government (Lowry 2000: 48), and convert it into an advisory body. In the second phase since October 2005, however, the euphoria on the EU bid has faded away; the government’s resolve to hold on to the agenda of democratizing reforms and keep the ‘military question’ within its remit has weakened; its cycle of mood has changed from optimism and efficiency to a sense of inadequacy; the EU leaders have started to voice unease over Ankara’s membership bid, citing concerns of infringement of basic rights and freedoms upheld by the EU; and the JDP’s domestic and foreign policy discourse has widened the chasm between Turkey and the EU and the USA. More importantly, the government seems to have moved towards a new convergence with the popular conservative-nationalist sentiment and the military’s policy priorities on key issues. They include reinventing the statecentered security considerations at the expense of human security and returning to a hard-line approach towards the Kurdish question, Northern Iraq and the EU. The first of the three foci is the ideas upheld and policy challenges posed and confronted by the JDP government itself, in its attempts to manage its relationship with the TAF. The second research dimension is about the military itself. The effectiveness or failure of the JDP’s policies on the military is inextricably linked with the TAF’s evaluation of these policies in light of the survival of its corporate interests. Hence, the essay explores the nature of the military’s response to the JDP policies and its counter-strategies, both in the first and second periods. In the third place, the essay places the government’s approaches to the military question in an interactive perspective. In trying to understand the JDP government’s shifting position on the issue, it is essential to consider organized interests and popular sentiments as well as the strategic environment in the aftermath of 11 September (2001), in terms of considering the impact of changing the regional and international power balance. In the latter group of variables, the most significant of all is the changing logic that frames the EU’s policies, with regard to Turkish entry, and the USA’s policy towards Turkey within the context of post-9/11 strategic priorities and the Iraq war.

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The JDP and the Military in the First Phase: ‘Civilian Empowerment?’ The Turkish military’s distrust of the ruling party is based on the enduring tension between the republic’s Westernizing and secular vision—which the military guards by entrenching itself in politics (Cizre-Sakallıog˘lu 1997; Cizre 2003)—and politically manifested forms of Islam. Thus, it is possible to claim that the JDP’s electoral success reaffirms Turkey’s General Staff’s deeply-held conviction that, if unchecked, political Islam will emerge as the government of the country, i.e., as a fundamental threat to the regime. The secular establishment has continued to perceive the government’s discourse from the point of view of ‘radical doubt’ with regard to its true intentions.3 The historical dialectic of the Turkish military has relevance in this perception: depiction of Islam as ‘the other,’ or as the symbol of ‘nonmodern orientalness,’ has always constituted the essentialist substance of the military’s ‘legitimacy’ itself. Against this backdrop, to counter a potential conflict between its administration and the military ‘guardians’ of Turkish democracy, the JDP has crafted a Western-oriented restyling of the party’s image and ideological agenda. As a result, entry into the EU has become the party’s signature, parliament has become the primary locus for the initiation of policies, and a neo-liberal economic program, democratic reforms and the reshaping of Turkish foreign policy have become its fundamental policy engagements. In doing this, the JDP leadership has drawn strength from the externally generated forces to civilianize the regime. If EU entry requirements have provided one external impetus for the JDP government attempts to reshape military-civilian relations, the international community’s approval of its Islamic credentials has provided another. This trend stems from the West’s security concerns about the regions’ Islamic movements and regimes. Thus, in the aftermath of the military campaign against Saddam Hussein, the international tide has turned in the ruling party’s favor as the Western alliance has looked for a security partner in the region to hold up as an example of the compatibility of ‘Islam and democracy.’ This need meant that sympathy and support for the Islam-friendly government of Turkey is reconcilable with the prevalent sensibility and conduct of international politics which are against Islamic terrorism. JDP’s Assertive Policy Position Side by Side with Consensus Seeking The JDP government’s overall approach toward the TAF, in its early days in office, relied on a strategy of confrontation avoidance. However, its policies also revealed an intention to shift the epicenter of politics from the civilmilitary bureaucracy to civil society. The new government adopted an ‘Europeanist’ posture in foreign policy, coupled with a ‘reformist’ domestic

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agenda. If effectively implemented, this posture would, by prioritizing democracy over security, inevitably diminish the influence of the traditional centers of power, most notably that of the TAF. Thus, reformism at this stage highlighted an undeclared commitment, on the part of the JDP, to curtail the ability of the military bureaucracy to prevail over civilian decision-making. More significantly, the JDP leadership did not seem to confine itself to simple inaction with regard to national security as well as the foreign policy matters, such as the EU, Iraq and Cyprus. While predecessors of the same ideological ilk were intimidated into inaction by the expansion of military prerogatives in national security during the 1990s, the JDP leadership followed a deliberate strategy of trying to increase its influence over national security and foreign policy. The strategy of trying to reduce the military’s sphere of political influence manifested itself in a number of ways. Because the Foreign Ministry and its diplomats are seen as bastions of the secular establishment, the government attempted to retire diplomats over the age of 61 and asked the Turkish diplomatic missions abroad to improve links with National Order (Milli Gorus) groups (which is, at present, the name for an ultra-conservative religious Turkish community in Europe).4 In addition, by not submitting the drafts of the 6th and 7th Harmonization Bills to the NSC before it came to the parliament, the government violated an unwritten tradition. It also overrode in parliament the veto by the president of the republic on the changes to the Anti-Terror Law.5 When, in May 2004, the government’s higher education reform plan—which, among other provisions, eased restrictions on graduates of religious vocational schools entering universities—came under fierce criticism by the general staff, Prime Minister Tayyip Erdogan, implicitly addressing the military high command, reiterated the superiority of the parliament’s will. He went on to say that that ‘‘if the organs, institutions and societal actors do not stay within their legal roles, that would mean that they would step out of the legitimate framework of the system’’ (Radikal 2004). It should be immediately noted that this strategy was not the only one that the government used. Parallel to its significant engagement with circumscribing the military’s political influence, it simultaneously tried to build consensus with the military and the secular establishment to dispel fears in the civil and military bureaucracy that the government would inject Islamism into the bloodstream of the secular system in Turkey.6 Given the historic collision between the NSC and JDP’s predecessor, the Welfare Party, in 1997, the government’s strategy is understandable. However, there is also nothing innovative about the promotion of the appearance of harmony with the military. Since the inception of multi-party politics in 1946, most civilian leaders have followed a pragmatic strategy toward the TAF which takes the political preeminence of the military as a given and seeks safety in a conciliatory discourse in case of a backlash to the deployment of a proactive one. The pursuit of two contradictory discourses, one which

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portrays the military in such as way as to almost justify its supervisory role and another which exalts the supremacy of the national will and parliament, is a familiar feature of the Turkish civilian political class (Cizre-Sakallıog˘lu 1997). The leader of the opposition party, Deniz Baykal, provides one of the best examples of Turkey’s civilian tradition when he hailed the criticisms made by the high command of the constitutionally incumbent government as ‘‘democratic, timely, natural and useful,’’7 or when he attributed a disproportionate share of policy success to the military while downgrading the contribution of the civilian authority.8 Symptomatic of the desire to reassure the TAF high command of its good intentions, the government publicly denied any discord between the general staff, the foreign ministry and the government. In initiating the major breakthrough of resuming talks on Cyprus to end the 30-year division of the island before the Greek Cyprus joined the EU on May 1, 2004, the prime minister and his team are known to have given in to the establishment’s concerns and withdraw from the negotiations at the end of 2002. However, when the talks were restarted between Greek and Turkish Cypriot leaders on 13 February 2004, in order to boost Turkey’s chances of receiving a date to start accession talks with the EU, the military’s expression of ‘serious concerns’ rose to a peak (Yetkin 2003b). On both occasions, the prime minister repeatedly denied the open secret that there is substantial rift between his government and the nationalist hard-liner stance of the secular establishment. Instead, he emphasized complete harmony and cooperation between both sides over Cyprus (Hu¨rriyet 2003, Yu¨ksek 2004).9 At this juncture, that is, in the first three years of the JDP in office, two windows of opportunity have changed the ‘strategic calculus’ of both the JDP and TAF, which has had a knock-on effect on the civil-military balance. They are the JDP’s embrace of the EU project and the Cyprus question and the implications of the war in Iraq. In many ways, these have encouraged the public to start genuinely debating what constitutes Turkey’s national security, who should take the decisions on it, and what should be the link between democracy and security. Moreover, the JDP’s position and policies on the first two issues have created a momentum of their own, autonomous from the will and actions of the party, for change and reform, which had been gathering some momentum over the last two decades. What prompted the party leadership’s appropriation of the EU cause is, in part, strategic choice: the sort of moderation that has brought the JDP to government is also crucial to keeping the party in power. In other words, if the JDP begins to challenge secularism, it will lose its political battle to govern Turkey by alienating most of its voters as well as the secularist bloc (Cagaptay 2002)

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As Soli Ozel (2003: 92) puts it: the only way for this party to survive in power . . . is through a liberal transformation of the Turkish polity and its civilianization. This explains why the JDP’s drive for EU accession is genuine: it is a matter of enlightened self-interest, and the party clearly knows it.

The August 2003 EU Harmonization Package: Demystification of National Security The EU Helsinki Summit of 1999, which extended the candidate status to Turkey, provided the impetus for preparing a National Plan for the Adoption of the Acquis adopted in 2001, which was revised in 2003. Political reforms to align Turkey’s laws and norms with the EU have been introduced through two major constitutional reforms in 2001 and 2004, and eight legislative packages between February 2002 and July 2004. The democratic package of July 2003, which was formally put into effect on 7 August 2004, was also part of Turkey’s commitment to align its civilmilitary relations with the EU’s ‘good practices.’ The package contained an amendment to some Articles of the Act on the NSC and the General Secretariat of the NSC which, in effect, tipped the civil-military balance in the civilians’ favor. The package:  repealed the NSC’s executive powers which overlapped or sometimes exceeded the executive branch and turned it into an advisory body  increased the civilian members to a majority voting position  reduced the scope of the Secretary General’s role by repealing the old provision that ministries, public institutions, organizations and private legal persons shall submit regularly, or when requested, non-classified or classified information and documents needed by the General Secretariat of the council  revised the procedure for the appointment of the Secretary General and made it subject to the approval of the President on the proposal of the prime minister. This change also allowed for a non-military person to serve as Secretary General. The views of the Chief of General Staff are to be taken into account in case a member of the TAF is to be appointed to the post  cut down the number of departments under the authority of the Secretary General from eleven to seven, along with the transfer of surplus personnel to other state departments  reduced the number of times the NSC meets from monthly to bimonthly10  allowed if not full, at least greater parliamentary scrutiny of the military budget

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 decreased the NSC’s budget by 60 percent (Milliyet 2003)  removed the confidentiality rule surrounding the activities of the NSC by stipulating that a new bylaw be passed on the rules and regulations of the NSC The previous reform packages legislated by the JDP in October 2002 and June 2003 expanded freedom of expression; education and broadcasting in the Kurdish language; abolished anti-terrorism provisions that authorized punishment for propaganda against the unity of state; and established retrial rights for citizens whose court decisions are overthrown by the European Court of Human Rights. All these reforms were put in place to increase the chances of membership talks with the EU after the European Council’s meeting in December 2004. This package, however, represented a distinct legislative accomplishment by Turkey’s historical standards as it targeted civilianizing the NSC, an institution which is considered the embodiment of the political role of the military and termed as ‘‘the shadow government,’’ by the government itself.11 In fact, at the stage of the preparation of the draft of the package, the general staff is known to have raised its objections to the reduction of the NSC’s influence because this was not what the existing conditions in Turkey required.12 From many perspectives, this reform package makes a clean break with the past. To begin with, it ‘shyly’ reflects ideas associated with democratic governance of the security sector and its reform.13 The JDP’s paradigmatic commitment to European integration already provides a catalyst for the democratic governance of the military, which is a fundamental part of the concept of democratic governance of a society in general and of security agencies in particular. Often, the norms are manifested as ‘conditionalities,’ articulated in the accession requirements of NATO, the EU and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe’s (OSCE)14 (Fluri and Cole 2003: 124). A related task of the reform of the NSC was to save the conventional mechanisms of perceiving ‘threats’ and formulating ‘security policy responses’ from the exclusive control of the military agents. Moreover, the reform of the NSC included a civilian ‘empowerment’ dimension: this entails building the will, information and expertise of civilians (Forster 2002: 78) regarding defense, security, and strategy issues to be able to efficiently oversee the sector. The current global emphasis on democratic accountability of the military and security sector was utilized by the incumbent government. Thus, for example, the new regulations governing the operations for the NSC Secretary General, which were made public on January 8, 2004, outlawed the old stipulation that appointments to the NSC shall not be published in the Official Gazette. Moreover, the NSC’s department of ‘‘Relations with Society,’’ the unit which evoked the most criticism in virtue of its mandate to carry out ‘psychological operations’ without accountability, was abolished.

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Secondly, the JDP government’s reform showed some implicit awareness that the reform package could not achieve substantive changes in the power equation unless the conceptual morass defining national security was demystified and opened up to civilian participation. This thinking went against the ‘secret’ of the political influence of the TAF, which has traditionally involved not just its political autonomy but also monopoly of the concept, knowledge and expertise on defense, strategy, threats and security issues. It is from this position that the military institution has been able to confront left-wing ideologies, reactionary Islam and ethnic secessionism in the multiparty era. However, post-Cold War thinking had already proposed an alternative framework, in which the principles and policies of defense and security should be connected with a wider process of democratization and new political priorities requiring civil society, citizens, the media and representative institutions to play a greater role in their formulation. Also, security would have to cease to be a military-oriented reading of threats (Turkish Daily News 2003a) in order to save it from being a ‘control’ problem (Cizre 2003). It is true to say that since the 7th Harmonization package, there is more public interest and debate on the respective roles of military and non-military players. Some civil society organizations and the media have now started to devote considerable time, energy and space to rethinking the military’s political role and the problems that exist within the military institution. A significant development in this direction has been the shift of the terms of the public debate. The main question discussed is whether the argument between the government and the military derives from TAF’s radical doubt about the anti-secular roots of JDP or its concern that the EU-inspired reforms would transfer political power to the elected civilians (Berkan 2003; Keskin 2003; Zeyrek 2003). The JDP leadership reportedly put some effort into reformulating the National Security Policy Document (NSPD)15 in 2005, in accordance with the warning of the EU Commission’s Regular Report of 2004, that Turkey’s civilians should start to take a more active role in the formulation of the national security strategy and its implementation (EC 2004a: 23). During the preparations of the NSPD, a document which is considered to be ‘the secret constitution’ of the country and which is indeed not disclosed on any platform to the public, the government was observed as being actively involved.16 However, the NSPD which came out in October 2005 was not much different from its predecessors: it is reported to cite religious reactionism, separatism and the extreme left as the major threats to security while removing the extreme right from its agenda (Hu¨rriyet 2006b). Whatever the main incentives of the JDP were, however, some progress was made in raising the public’s awareness about the need to demystify the issue in a way rarely seen in the past (Cizre 2003). The 8th package of constitutional amendments, which increased civilian influence over the defense budget, was passed on 21 May 2004. That package

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also removed military representatives from the Council on Higher Educa¨ gretim Kurumu – YO ¨ K) and the Supreme Board of Radio tion (Yu¨ksek O and Television. It also abolished the State Security Courts, a legacy of the period after the 1980 military coup, which tried crimes against the state.17 Finally, the amendments narrowed the competence of military courts to try civilians for offences related to criticizing the military. According to press eports, the government also expressed its plans to spend more energy in 2005 to increase the parliamentary review of defense spending (Sariibrahimoglu 2004: 24). That the JDP government was able to go beyond the threshold of traditional civilian inertia was due to a combination of changes in the political context. Those changes may also account for the surprising lack of saber rattling by the TAF in reaction to the contraction of its ability to influence politics by way of the NSC reform since July 2003. If we accept the central proposition that ‘‘the military policy is always conditioned by political factors outside the civil-military relations,’’ which specifies the proper role of the military, the relationship between the civilian and military leaders, the rest of the major actors, thus determining the range of possible relations among them (Finch 1998: 162), then the JDP’s capacity to reset the civilmilitary balance depended on whether the JDP government was politically secure, if not from the threat of a military intervention, then from the threat that the military leaders will publicly, if not formally, disrupt the effectiveness of civilian policies, or contest, warn or veto the constitutionally elected authorities. The safer the government felt from a show of political muscle by the military—by attaching itself to a project about which there was a consensus at that stage, ‘‘the greater was [is] their [its]potential margin to attempt reforms even at the cost of antagonizing the armed forces’’ (Finch 1998: 162). The question was what counter-strategy by the military made the government safe to go ahead with the most radical reform in the Republican history on the military’s political role. The Military: Why the Untypical Restraint? All in all, the TAF high command’s approach towards the new government was, in the first phase, detached and yet ready to step in when it considered that secularist principles were violated. Active responses ranged from the refusal of the president of the Republic, the leading figure of the secular establishment and a close ally of the military, to invite the head-scarf wearing wives of the JDP leadership and deputies to official receptions and using his veto power against legislation that he considered detrimental to the secular tradition. Indeed, in the two weeks after its election to office, the JDP was reminded three times that the ‘February 28 process’ continued.18 Nevertheless, the question remains as to why the Turkish military was so reticent in response to the NSC reforms implemented by a government it regards as being engaged in a hidden Islamic agenda.

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A close analysis of government and military interactions in the initial years after 2002 suggests that the high command realized that to continue its traditional pattern of wielding political influence might damage its own corporate interests as the interplay of domestic and external dynamics created a state of affairs in which the choices available to the military establishment was either confrontation with a popularly-elected government and its popularly-backed project or the acceptance of some curtailment of its own power. There was a certain degree of survival instinct at play in the calculations of the military, which perhaps offers the best explanation for the lack of contestation in the face of civil-military reforms. The next argument that might explain the TAF’s restraint in countering the reforms was the fissures that started to exist within the officer corps. Indeed, the Turkish military’s impressive unity, which had previously helped the institution to keep a distance from civilian control, seemed to be under strain. The then Chief of the General Staff (2002–06), General Ozkok, was known to be surrounded by some force commanders with strong support from ‘young officers,’ who wished him to be more assertive against the JDP government (IISS 2002/2003: 139). Therefore, the main line of division within the military could be said to be between those on active duty as well as retired officers who questioned the credibility of the government, which they considered to be a ‘‘sinister assault(s) against the secular republic,’’19 and some generals led by General Ozkok himself who were more willing to engage with civilian reforms to democratize civil-military relations due their subscription to democratic norms and role-beliefs. The EU Issue Undercutting the Military’s Credibility Another line of division in the army surfaced with regard to the question of accession into the EU. The widespread suspicion within the military that the EU dynamics will break up Turkey’s unity and that the EU will never accept Turkey as a full partner anyway led to the formation of an influential group within the army, informally called the ‘Euroasianists’, who favored the idea that Turkey now needs new allies, such as Russia and Iran.20 Scaling down the role of the military as part of the process of entering into the EU augured badly for this group’s traditional concept of guarding the republic against anti-secular internal enemies. Against this clique, there is a strong body of officers who still cherish the vanguard role of the TAF as part of staying in the Western culture and alliance structures, provided that the separatist Kurdish and Islamist threats are kept under control by a politically active and watchful military. On the whole, the EU issue, developments on Cyprus and the political situation that arose after the US invasion of Iraq compelled the military establishment to become engaged in a ‘‘strategic action perspective’’ (PionBerlin 2001), or ‘‘calculus approach,’’ as it is sometimes termed (Vink 2003), that regards any ‘‘military assertiveness as too costly, outweighing the

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potential benefits’’ (Finch 1998: 147). The TAF’s ambivalence to its own historical project of Europeanizing grew larger as it put greater weight on securitizing the Republic against Islamic activism and Kurdish separatism in the last two decades. That is, its ‘guardian’ role, which involves protecting the regime from what it defines as threats, overtook its ‘vanguard’ role of propelling change in a Western direction. The JDP’s commitment to the EU by taking over the TAF’s ‘vanguard’ role has caused embarrassment for the TAF. EU membership was supposed to be the intended endpoint of the republic’s vision of generating sufficient modernization to eliminate the Islamist threat. That also explains why the party’s appropriation of the military’s vanguard mission has also produced moderation on the part of the high command on the EU issue, despite the initial resistance. In keeping with his more flexible and democratic image, the then Chief of General Staff, General Ozkok, made a sincere admission of the grounds for a positive U-turn in the army’s discourse: ‘‘70 per cent of the people want the EU membership. Nobody can resist this kind of majority,’’ further adding that ‘‘we are ready to compromise and undertake risks to harmonize with the EU values’’ (Radikal 2003c). This admission vividly shows the importance of the political context—particularly the huge external and domestic support for the JDP’s pro-Europe approach— as the driving force behind the changing shape of Turkey’s civil-military relations. The Cyprus Problem Europeanized The Cyprus issue also contributed to the TAF’s restraint in the first phase. Soon after the November 2002 elections, the JDP government made a clear attempt to move in the direction of finding a negotiated resolution to the Cyprus problem. The move aimed to please the EU to integrate a united Cyprus into its folds by 1 May 2004, when the Greek Cypriot side was due to join the Union. Cyprus is conceived as a vital security issue for Turkey. In the words of General Hilmi Ozkok, ‘‘Cyprus is situated on a strategic line that starts from Britain and extends to Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, the Suez Canal, India and Singapore’’ (Turkish Daily News 2003b). Consequently, the General Staff and Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which together have dominated the policy initiatives concerning the island, have historically shown no spirit of compromise over the presence of Turkish soldiers in Northern Cyprus and in the international attempts to reunify the island (Tiryaki 2004). From the first round of negotiations, which failed in early 2003, to their restart in February 2004, the government faced the most difficult challenge to its policy of Europeanization. It came from a strong lobby of conservative groups opposed to a solution in Cyprus that is comprised of opposition parties, conservative-nationalist businesses, the notoriously hard-to-bend leader of the Turkish Cypriot community leader Rauf Denktas, the military and

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civil bureaucracy and the president. Against this concerted opposition, and indeed precisely because of it, Cyprus became a critical test of the government’s resolve to reverse the traditional conviction that Turkey’s civilian political class is too weak and self-absorbed to solve the key domestic and international problems effectively. Turkey supported the final plan presented by the UN Secretary General in March 2004, which was approved in a referendum by the majority of the Turkish Cypriot community in the north but rejected by the majority Greeks in the Republic of Cyprus in the south. On 1 May 2004, the Republic became a member of the EU as a divided island. In acting against the forces of the status quo around the issue of Cyprus, which ‘‘had come to symbolize all that was narrow-minded, uncooperative and hectoring about Turkish diplomacy and transform it into an eye-catching high point,’’ Philip Robins (2004) concludes that ‘‘Erdogan has succeeded in neutralizing a perennial obstacle to Turkey’s aspirations for European Union membership.’’ Once more, however, that brinkmanship would not have been possible without changes in international and regional contexts. US military diplomacy played a large part in assuring Turkey that her gains in strategic terms would be larger than any losses incurred if Cyprus is reunited. The US decided to put its weight behind the Cyprus peace process and would welcome Turkey receiving a date for the start of accession talks to the EU because the JDP government served as a ‘democratic Islamic’ model for the US’s Greater Middle East Initiative.21 The European Council of Brussels on 17 and 18 June 2004 acknowledged the positive contribution made by Turkey to the peaceful unification of the island. When the European leaders met on 17 December 2004, they set 3 October 2005 as the date to begin formal accession negotiations with Turkey.22 As an insightful student of the region’s politics puts it, it might very well be that the ‘‘Cyprus problem has reached a point of conflict ripeness’’ because the Helsinki European Council decisions in 1999 ‘‘have effectively Europeanized the Cyprus problem by virtue of creating a set of overlapping contingencies which linked Cyprus’s accession outcome, Turkey’s candidacy path, and Greek-Turkish rapprochement’’ (Prodromou 2000: 1, 10). The Iraqi Crisis As part of its strategy to undermine the JDP government, the military hierarchy refrained from committing itself to a firm support when the government sought parliamentary approval for the US to launch an attack on Iraq via Turkish territory. The government asked the parliament to postpone voting on the deployment issue until the NSC meeting on 28 February 2003. However, not wanting to share the responsibility for a risky and unpopular decision, the NSC ended its meeting with no recommendation to the Council of Ministers over whether the deployment question should be resolved by parliament. It was ironic that the TAF, with half a century of

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collaboration with the US defense establishment, left the decision to make or break its affinity with its key ally to the politicians.23 The public, however, was given the impression that the JDP leadership could not form a speedy, effective and coherent set of policies and that it tried to off-load the decision to the high command who, in turn, simply returned the problem back to the civilians. Although the military high-command subsequently extended its full support to parliament’s decision not to grant the US troops access, after years of being comfortably protected by the Pentagon and being dependant on the US for weaponry and training, the question arose as to whether the military was really in a position to risk losing the support of its key strategic ally. Judging by what subsequently occurred, the answer is no. Not only did the armed forces suffer setbacks in a number of cases,24 it appears that the US’s preferential backing of the JDP, on the basis that it serves as geo-political ‘Muslim democratic model’ in the region, has also undermined the military’s ability to challenge a popularly backed Islam-sensitive government. Weakened in its ability to operate on the political process as competently as it did before, the TAF’s ability to express outright opposition to the process of civilianization must now be held in check.

The Second Phase: The Reversal of the Government’s Reform Momentum For much of 2004, the popular zeal and the government’s commitment to the EU project continued. There was genuine progress made to align Turkey’s laws with the EU25 and an unquestionable international support for the JDP as was shown by the former President of the EU, Romano Prodi. In his historic visit to Turkey, Prodi praised the government’s adoption of radical reforms and expressed his surprise in ‘‘the decisiveness and progress in Turkey’s performance’’ (Milliyet 2004a). He also noted that Turkey had never achieved as fast a progress as it did under Erdogan and that he was ‘‘very proud of Erdogan’s leadership’’ going in this direction at this juncture (Milliyet 2004a). The European Commission’s evaluation in October 2004 of Turkey’s progress in accession laid out that ‘‘The Commission considers that Turkey sufficiently fulfills the political criteria and recommends that accession negotiations be opened’’ (EC 2004b). Then the historic decision of the European Council of Heads of State of 25 member countries in December 2004 came to open accession negotiations with Ankara on 3 October 2005. This was an open-ended resolution and carried the stipulation that Turkey must sign the Adaptation Protocol extending its existing Association Agreement with the EU to all new member states, including the Republic of Cyprus.26 On 3 October 2005, the accession talks opened and EU-Turkey interaction entered ‘a new phase’ (EC 2005: 4).27 Although the European right found the prospect of a large Muslim nation not ‘European enough’ to join the bloc alarming, no doubt, the EU’s reach to Turkey was

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facilitated by considerations that Turkey could help stem Islamic terrorism and promote stability in the region which, after September 11, has turned into a security threat for the Transatlantic alliance. Whatever the depths of the EU’s and the JDP’s commitments to each other, in the aftermath of the August 2003 reform and the beginning of accession negotiations in October 2005, the military acquired an increasingly vocal voice in the political calculations of Ankara and the vitality of the EU bid slipped. Likewise, the democratic restraints, which the struggle for the EU process exerted over the conservative-nationalist instincts of the JDP, seemed to disappear. The democratic openings that came with the ascendancy of the reformist cause in the first phase took a downturn and the JDP’s rights-based discourse gave way to a preoccupation with traditional issues and mundane politics. The momentous changes in the civilmilitary balance brought by the August 2003 package 18 months previously did not seem to be internalized and accepted by the military as final. The ruling party made a further contribution to it by abandoning its proactive policy toward the military question. Its strength and confidence seemed to flag and falter in the coming months so that if it took two steps forward, then it would take one step backward, providing the armed forces with the opportunity to play a central role in politics and enjoy a high degree of autonomy. That the government stepped up its policy of accommodation with the TAF’s interests raises questions as to whether this turnaround in fact means that the JDP leadership has compromised its strategy and policies as part of a crisis management or as the substance of a new agenda it adopted regarding civil-military balance. Can we really talk about a disconnection between a first phase of democratic reform in the civil-military equilibrium and a second period of minimal or no engagement with the democratic management of the military? If there is a disconnection, how can we explain it? Features of the Increasing Assertiveness of the Military In this phase, the TAF high command has reiterated its traditional position as the sole guardian of the ‘secular’ republic against reactionary and separatist activities more vocally than in the first phase. The process accelerated, beginning especially from the appointment of General Yasar Buyukanit, a political hard-liner and the head of the land forces from 2004 to 2006, to replace General Hilmi Ozkok as the new Chief of the General Staff on 31 July 2006. That the Islamist reactionary threat in Turkey has risen to a worrying level28 has become a common constant in his and the other commanders public statements. Although being cautious about not characterizing the government as Islamic or reactionary, the high command has since then been expressing openly and emphatically its belief that Prime Minister Erdogan’s party undermines the fundamental separation between state and religion. In addition to the government, the hierarchy has leveled harsh criticisms against the speaker of the parliament, Bulent Arinc, who

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suggested that secularism should be redefined; against an Istanbul based NGO, which is actively engaged in promoting the cause of democratic oversight of the security agencies, including the military;29 and even the former representative of the European Commission, Hansjoerg Kretschmer, who said at a meeting that the armed forces do not respect the legal and constitutional order.30 It is true that the reform packages in the first phase represent a major move towards weakening the military’s role in politics and that the trend of civilianizing national security has definitely gathered a considerable momentum of its own. However, this has not really led to a significant disengagement of military officers from politics nor led to a rethinking of their role in areas that should be under civilian control. In other words, it would be misleading to suggest that the TAF’s political role has been automatically degraded and military leaders have taken up a position analogous to that of their counterparts in EU member states. More correctly, the military institution has been able to ‘‘maintain its influence whilst altering its political profile,’’ (Koonings 2003: 138) in terms of adopting modified forms of military’s political involvement, proving the general point that unless a government’s political determination continues unimpeded, a reduced military influence in legal terms is not equivalent to democratic control over the armed forces (Hunter 1997: 142). Indeed, the Regular Report of 2004 acknowledges that ‘‘civilian control of the military has been strengthened’’ in Turkey, confirming that the momentous legal and institutional reforms have moved the civil military relations out of a black zone where the military retained a broad and effective political role (EC 2004a). However, the Report also reiterates that this relationship has not yet entered the white zone where it is fully aligned with EU standards: ‘‘there are still provisions on the basis of which the military continues to enjoy a degree of autonomy . . . [as] there are legal and administrative structures which are not accountable to civilian structures’’ (EC 2004a). Indeed the Report singles out five such strategic obstacles to the full exercise of civilian oversight.31 Although Ankara received the green light to start accession talks with the EU on 3 October 2005, the Regular Report of November 2005 puts forward, more or less, the same arguments of its predecessor document: since 2002, Turkey has made good progress in reforming civil-military interaction, but the armed forces continue to exercise significant political influence . . . and Turkey should work towards greater accountability and transparency in the conduct of security affairs in line with member states’ ‘‘best practices’’ (EC 2005: 14) The Report cites the same five strategic obstacles to the full exercise of civilian control with the addition of the need to strengthen ‘‘the control

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of the Ministry of Interior, governors and district governors over the Gendarmerie . . . in order to allow full civilian oversight on internal security policy’’ (EC 2005: 14). The latest Annual Report of 8 November 2006 highlights the remaining deficiencies in the realm of civil-military interaction rather than the lingering effects of reforms: overall, limited progress has been made in aligning civil-military relations with EU practices . . . the civilian authorities should fully exercise their supervisory functions in particular as regards the formulation of the national security strategy and its implementation, including with regard to relations with neighbouring countries (EC 2006: 8) Likewise, the EU’s Common Position Paper issued after the Turkey-EU Partnership Council meeting on 12 June 2006 notes the slowed down pace of change and recommends significant further efforts regarding the implementation of reforms in human rights; civil-military relations; security affairs; fundamental freedoms; torture and ill-treatment; non-violent expression of opinion; freedom of religion; cultural rights; protection of minorities; domestic violence and honor killings and normalization of relations between Turkey and EU members, including the Greek Cypriot government. These reports capture the emerging features of power relations between the military-led secular camp and the JDP after the momentous NSC reform in 2003 and after the start of the accession negotiations in October 2005. The important point to note is that in the new balance of power between the civilians and military, the latter no longer passively exercises political power solely by taking advantage of legal and mental biases built into the political system. In the second phase, the armed forces are on the offensive, counterbalancing its partial loss of political influence by actively creating new instruments which can be used to perform the same functions. Many of the functions of the NSC which were rescinded have been shifted, for instance, to the general staff headquarters itself. Although monthly meetings of the NSC have been reduced to bimonthly meetings, the headquarters have started to hold monthly press briefings expressing the views of the high command on the political issues of the day. Similarly, it is possible to observe that the Supreme Military Board (Yuksek Askeri Sura), a body which is ordinarily confined to making decisions on internal promotions, dismissals and retirements, has been activated to voice the concern and determinations of the top brass about what they consider Turkey’s major internal threats.32 There is also a growing perception on the part of the armed forces, since the military’s last intervention in 28 February 1997, that popular ‘respect’ for the armed forces has to measure up against a backdrop of growing popular ‘support’ for the JDP. A major shift has taken place in the TAF’s

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strategy toward society in terms of moving from invoking passive reverence, fear and indifference to producing active popular consent. The JDP’s existence as the ruling party has accelerated the tendency of the military institution to address everyday relations and symbolic practices that shape the citizen’s acceptance of the military’s political role as the single most important force against religious rule, political chaos and disunity. This new concern with reaching out and aligning with organized and unorganized sectors of the society represents a shift of focus from the TAF’s state-centered strategy to establish hegemony to a more decentered, individualbased and informal practice of power in society. More importantly, it is also a shift to a political party-like institution, which is in direct and immediate relationship with its targets, the citizens, civil society, academia, think-tanks and the media to produce effects. In March 2007, a prominent Istanbul weekly, Nokta, published the alleged diaries of the former Navy commander, retired Admiral Ozden Ornek, which revealed that the force commanders in 2004 conspired and aborted two coup attempts against the government. One significant aspect of the alleged coup plans is the pointed emphasis being made by the writer of the diaries on the need to build up public support among the key figures of the media, business world, trade unions and rectors of universities to undermine the power of the government (Nokta 2007).33 Notwithstanding the fact that this strategy delivers a blow to the assumption of civil societal groups acting as true expressions of grassroots dynamism, it has worked effectively in enabling citizens to juxtapose their selfidentity with the collective meaning of the social body without a problem. Reportedly, the largest demonstrations in Turkish history were held on Saturday, 14 April 2007, in Ankara, against the potential candidacy of Recep Tayyip Erdogan for president and on Sunday, 29 April 2007, in Istanbul, against the anti-secular tendencies of the JDP threatening the regime. Over 300 NGOs from across the country were involved in the organization of these meetings. But one of the most prominent ones was the Association for Ataturkist Thought, an NGO established to promote Ataturk’s ideals and chaired by Sener Eruygur, a retired former commander of the Turkish gendarmerie, who is currently under investigation for allegedly plotting a coup against the JDP government in 2004. It is a well-known fact that most secular NGOs, which are considered in theory autonomous vis-a`-vis the state have, in reality, been defined, structured and mobilized as the secularist frontline partisans in the ongoing war against the anti-secular ‘enemies’ of the regime. President Sezer’s last minute warnings, before his term ended in May 2007, that the secular republic faced its biggest threat since its foundation and that the ‘‘ideology of the modern Turkish Republic contained in Ataturk’s principles is a state ideology that all citizen’s should take as their own’’ (Birch 2007), attests to the enveloping, totalizing, ordering, structuring, infiltrating and mobilizing power of the state ideology as the ideology of ‘all.’

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Defining Factors and Moments of the Military’s Adversarial Strategy The presidential elections in May 2007, looming large, has played the most crucial role in the military’s adoption of a pointedly assertive and polarizing political profile to prevent the likelihood of an Islamic-oriented party being able to control the government, the presidency and the parliament simultaneously. To put it differently, secularists have been looking to the military to block any presidential bid by the JDP to keep a secular president in place as a barrier to the Islamization of the state, or what Menderes Cinar calls in this volume ‘‘the communitization of state’’ machinery. The position of the president seems to the outsiders to be a symbolic one. In reality, it is both symbolic and real: the president of the republic can appoint university rectors, many high-court judges, bureaucratic administrators, and veto important pieces of legislation. What nurtures the fears regarding the presidential designs of the JDP is the deeply held secular perception that if a JDP candidate is elected, the secular state will slide into a covert Islamic agenda and an Islamic world view away from the West and more importantly, Western ways of life. However, there is another major consideration that must have shaped the military bureaucracy’s thinking towards the May 2007 elections. Just as it had demonstrated its capacity to be able to do so in the previous phase, if it secured the presidency, the JDP could return to its policy of challenging the political role and prerogatives of the Turkish military and take steps to complete the establishment of a systematic democratic oversight over it. That is why, in the run-up to May 2007 and during the process of the selection of a candidate and the voting rounds, politics in Turkey were locked into the presidential elections. The prime minister himself wanted to become the president and the anger and concern of the TAF became almost visible, even as the JDP leaders continued to deny any tensions between the high-command and the government. The example that can be given is from the press conference on 13 April 2007, by General Yasar Buyukanit, fourteen days before the first round of elections started in the general assembly and when the potential candidacy of Prime Minister Erdogan was still an unresolved issue. The Chief of the General Staff defined the acceptable profile of the next president as ‘‘faithful to the republic not in words but in deeds’’ (Radikal 2007a), a statement which many took as a rejection of the Prime Minister as the next president. But Recep Tayyip Erdogan, following his party’s tradition of ‘appearing’ to keep harmonious relations with the military leaders at all costs, interpreted General Buyukanit’s remark as ‘‘reasonable . . . positive’’ (Radikal 2007a). In the same press conference, General Buyukanit also expressed the necessity of launching a major offensive into Northern Iraq to combat the Kurdish forces, saying that all he needed was the political approval by the government. His appeal to the government to take a harder line against the Kurdish forces was taken by the press as another way of embarrassing the Prime

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Minister at a stage when he could not afford to risk a violent confrontation in Iraq for a number of reasons. This operation could alienate Turkey’s own Kurds and thus jeopardize his popular base of support just when he needed it on the eve of presidential and general elections (Kuser and Dinmore 2007). Also, a cross border operation would raise an international outcry not least from the USA, straining further the relations which had already been stretched very thin over Washington’s reluctance to control the Kurdish terrorists in Iraq. The establishment’s strategy was centered on considering the secularistIslamist divide as a zero-sum game in which the prevention of the election of a JDP presidential candidate was a matter of a life and death for the secular cause. The JDP also closed the space for debate over the names of the candidates the party would produce. Nor did it choose a compromise candidate, defined as the one without Islamic roots and with a non-head-scarf wearing wife. Nevertheless, being made aware of these deeply-seated concerns and fears and being pressured by the party’s rank and file that if he became the president, the party could suffer in terms of leadership, the prime minister decided to step down in favor of the foreign minister Abdullah Gul, one of the founders and major figures of the National Outlook movement but who has a wife who wears a headscarf. Although a mild-mannered and moderate man, his candidacy did not allay the doubts, distrust and fears of the secular front regarding the capture of the presidency by one of the leaders of a political movement considered anathema to the republic as well as to the status quo. There are reasons to think that there is a foreign policy dimension to the excessively confident tone of the TAF’s voice after 2005. The change in Turkey’s importance for the West after September 11 rested on ‘‘promises and possibilities rather than on an accomplished fact’’ (IISS 2001/2002: 164). In the new strategic environment, international sympathy and support for the Islam-friendly government of Turkey reduced the military high command’s ability to challenge the government. However, from February and March 2005, international criticism of the government escalated on the grounds that it failed to act expeditiously on the reforms to get a start-date for negotiations on 3 October 2005. There was also criticism that the JDP had allowed the Islamist agenda to creep into the amendments to the Penal Code in September–October 2004 and in June 2005.34 At the same time, the State Department and the Pentagon expressed their displeasure with the resurgence of anti-American sentiments and policies in Ankara, which they believed had begun souring the relationship between the two countries since the advent of ‘‘subtle yet insidious Islamism of the Justice and Development Party . . . and a combination of old leftism and new Islamism’’ (Pollock 2005). This reversal of support for the government triggered the establishment to sharpen its attempt to shape the public discourse against the JDP policies and agenda. The criticisms of the EU, since October 2005, that the government has faltered in its implementation of reforms and that its

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enthusiasm for the EU seems to have faded, has legitimized the reassertion of military power into politics in defense of secular order more vocally than ever. However, domestic dimensions not only play a more prominent role in shaping the highly polarized and aggressive discourse, but they also tell a slightly different story. The JDP, has, by all accounts, succeeded in staying in power since 2002, without going through the kind of crises that Ankara’s politics endured in the past decade. The secular establishment’s speculation that the JDP would fail to meet the expectations of the populace simply by sheer inefficiency, or by virtue of the huge gap between political promises and the curtailed capacity of an overburdened state, did not really come true. The government managed to make a big policy performance score by managing to receive the green light to start accession talks with the EU in December 2004, and by succeeding in limiting its Islam-friendly agenda to issues on morality and alcohol selling, which were blocked by the lawmakers themselves. The fact that the JDP government established a new durability record for Turkey’s civilian governments has contributed positively to the democratic legitimacy of ‘elected’ civilians. However, combined with some elements of the party pushing hard to enhance the position of religious schools and, particularly, to relax the ban on headscarves, especially in universities, the staying power and performance record of the party has caused insecurities and prompted an inflammatory discourse about the failure of the government to act effectively at least in one area, that is, to protect the secular system. The appointment of General Buyukanit as the Chief of the General Staff in July 2006 marks a watershed in civil-military interaction. Compared to the more democratic and moderate views of retired General Ozkok, General Buyukanit’s ideological position since his days as the Land Forces’ Commander was known to be shaped by the belief that guarding the republic against anti-secular and separatist activities provides the single necessary rationale for a complete trade-off between secularism and an array of individual rights—connected with popular sovereignty, plural democracy and the EU. In fact, the captions in the news coverage of the speeches made by Generals Ozkok and Buyukanit, at the inauguration ceremony of General Buyukanit as the new head of the armed forces, capture the essential difference between the predecessor and successor commanders succinctly: General Ozkok’s speech was titled ‘‘The Guarantee of Secularism Is the Nation Itself,’’ whereas General Buyukanit’s was titled ‘‘To Protect the Republic Is Not Being Engaged in Politics, It Is a Duty’’ (Milliyet 2006b and 2006c). Despite the prime minister’s claim that General Buyukanit is an ‘‘esteemed general,’’ perfectly welcomed by the government, it was a well-known fact that the JDP’s rank and file members would rather see General Hilmi Ozkok continue to serve as the chief of the army than see Buyukanit replace him.35 Indeed, since the appointment of General Buyukanit, an important feature which marks the Turkish military’s increasing political involvement in this period is the repeated emphasis the high command makes on the protection

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of the republic as a ‘duty,’ stripped from any political connotation. Senior officers regard the increased political autonomy of the TAF as being in defense of secularism, not in defense of a political stand. In the memorandum the high command issued on 27 April 2007, the expression that the TAF is a ‘side’ in the debate over secularism is a reiteration of the TAF’s wish to be openly involved in choosing a candidate for president as an apolitical duty. Moreover, the ‘Semdinli incident’ highlighted a number of new developments in Turkish politics regarding the civil-military balance as well as the politicization of the judicial system. On 9 November 2005, a bookshop in the mainly Kurdish town of Semdinli, was bombed. The assailants who were caught by the public turned out to be two gendarmarie non-commissioned officers and an informer of the Kurdish terrorist organization, the PKK or KADEK.36 The indictment prepared by the city of Van’s public prosecutor, Ferhat Sarikaya, specifically accused the then Land Forces Commander, General Buyukanit, of being involved in the incident (Zaman 2006).37 The subtext of the indictment was the charge that the high command was actively involved in the bombings38 and in the political management of the Kurdish conflict by way of provoking tensions in the region and blocking peaceful civilian progress. In a press statement, the general staff lashed out at the prosecutor, describing him as being under the influence and persuasion of certain religious communities and aimed at undermining the military as well as blocking the promotion of General Buyukanit to Chief of the General Staff. It called the ‘relevant authorities’ i.e., the government and the ministry of justice, to prosecute the prosecutor (Hu¨rriyet 2006a). The Justice Ministry, controlled by the Supreme Council of Judges and Prosecutors, dismissed Ferhat Sarikaya from office in April and, in a final review in November, it barred him from the legal profession. Later, the Justice Ministry’s own investigation committee on Sarikaya found that the charges against General Buyukanit did not provide the required basis of evidence to proceed further with the prosecution.39 The end result was that the government failed to protect the public prosecutor from verbal attacks, threats and insults and allay the public suspicions that the Semdinli incident was a covert underground operation of the ‘deep state’ to prevent a peaceful political settlement in the region. From the perspective of democratic civilian control of the military, since the advent of General Buyukanit, the EU conditionality on the limitation of the political role of the military was pointedly and repeatedly defied and the guardian role of the military was expanded and intensified to include day-today politics. This situation undermined the authority and prestige of the government. The fact that there were no instances of openly acknowledged civil-military conflicts provides evidence that the military successfully pushed the JDP government to accept this state of affairs as ‘normal.’ The only factors that have played a restraining role on the leaders of the armed forces—in terms of not staging an open coup—were their concern for not

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being responsible for an economic downturn and for a breakdown in the EUTurkey relations (Yetkin 2006). Erosion of the JDP’s Oversight over the Military: Adaptation to Politics of Adversity or a Negative Peace to Avoid a Coup? It is important to note that in this era, there is a genuine disconnection between the components of the double discourse of the initial days, which comprised a search for a consensus with the military while proactively extending civilian oversight over it. As a result, the JDP’s politics have backslid into pure and simple confrontation avoidance in a power balance which greatly favored the military sector. True enough, the government made some attempts to counteract the military leaders’ public calls to rally around the armed forces to keep up anti-JDP campaigns and protests in defense of secularism.40 Similarly, when, within hours of the failure of the presidential candidate Abdullah Gul to win enough votes in the first round of ballot on 27 April 2007, the military issued a statement invoking its role as the defender of the country’s secular traditions and hinting at moving against the government if Gul’s name is kept, the government spokesman and Minister of Justice, Cemil Cicek, read a written statement addressing the secularist critics with unprecedented defiance: ‘‘it is inconceivable in a democratic state that the general staff would use any phrase against the government on any matter. . . . the Chief of General Staff, in terms of his duty and authority, is accountable to the prime minister’’ (Tavernise 2007b). However, these examples of meeting the general staff’s daring challenges are exceptional. The term that can be used to characterize the government’s overall military policy in the second phase is ‘denial’ of any tension, to avoid any open collision with the secular establishment and, especially, with General Buyukanit. In this phase, characteristically, the JDP has shown little interest in airing its ongoing problems with the TAF, thinking that public acceptance of any conflict with the secular state would make the JDP government appear weak. To this end, it has spent a considerable amount of energy smoothing over the sharply critical tone of the public statements of the high echelon; to pretend to read these statements in a positive light; and to keep the military out of the limelight by constantly placating it. Another typical discourse has been to continue to suggest that secularists should target ‘extremism,’ not the JDP government as it defined itself as a conservative-democratic centered party by all measures. This was precisely the same policy stand that Turkey’s right-wing leaders adopted when the NSC defined Islamic reactionism as a security threat after the 28 February 1997 intervention. More significantly, the failure of the government to get to the bottom of the Semdinli incident and protect the prosecutor against the wrath of the military on the pretext that it would be against the public interest ‘‘to show weaknesses in the TAF, especially through the esteemed commanders of our country,’’41 reaffirms that the government was adamant

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on a policy of entente with the powerful military after the initial period of robust reforms in the first era. The question is: why? Since the JDP’s latitude to initiate radical changes in civil-military interaction—through legislation—in the first phase depended on a strong performance in non-military policy domains, the most significant one being the EU membership, it is clear that some slips in this direction have caused the JDP government to lose the margin of freedom necessary to resist the constraints imposed by the military. Therefore, to understand the JDP’s shift to a defensive strategy towards the military in this phase, we need to combine the analysis with the government’s policy performance. The party’s failure to address the principle of democratic governance over the TAF goes along with the fall of its democracy discourse; mounting hostility toward the EU cause; going with the flow of ‘street nationalism’; and convergence with the military bureaucracy on all issues, as well as on the primacy of ‘security’ considerations regarding the Kurdish question, both domestically as well as with respect to Northern Iraq. This last point also explains the tension and resentment in Turkish foreign policy concerning the relations with the USA. These policies represent a u-turn away from the JDP’s commitment to politics of change and reform. The Snowball Effects of the Fall of the EU Project It is clear that once the EU-driven democracy agenda faltered, effective democratic alterations in the civil-military equation were postponed, if not abandoned forever. The important point to note here is that the JDP government has considered the civil-military equation as a subset of wider political reform, which includes democratization. The civilian leadership is neither intellectually nor politically committed to changing this causality the other way round and sustain the primacy it gave in the first phase to altering the traditional notion of national security as protection of the state from external and internal threats to ‘human security’ (Kaldor and Salmon 2006: 19–34). In other words, the JDP’s policy-making cadres are not particularly interested in or knowledgeable about the idea that unless they continue to attach priority to empowering and entrenching civilian centers to oversee the armed forces democratically, in all likelihood, they cannot be expected to achieve deepening democracy. This is another way of saying that the JDP is not intellectually oriented to problematize the hypothesis that democratization as a check-list reform is itself a guarantee for establishing ‘‘democratic accountability’’ of the TAF (Wulf 2005: 17). It is fair to conclude that the JDP attaches a higher premium to avoiding a possible political threat of a coup from the military than on establishing democratic civil-military relations. Despite the momentous legal and constitutional changes the JDP has made in its bid for EU membership since 2002, soon after the start of the entry talks in October 2005, the government’s commitment to the core

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values of the EU was called into question. The EU Commissioner for Enlargement, Olli Rehn, in an international symposium in Ankara on 2 October 2006, warned that unless Ankara stepped up democratic reforms and fully conformed to the protocol for Customs Union, which calls for Turkish ports to be made available to Cypriot planes and vessels, Turkey would face a ‘train crash’ (turkishpress.com 2006). The EU summit meeting of 14–15 December 2006 accepted the EU Commission’s recommendations to suspend negotiations on eight of the remaining thirty-four chapters. Although eight months later, membership talks were restarted, the government has felt compelled to reshape its discourse toward the EU as a mixture of counter-criticism and reaffirmation of Ankara’s resolve to continue the process. This new discourse aims to protect the government from a negative decision by the EU. After the rejection of the EU constitution in referenda in France and the Netherlands in late May 2005, which many observers attributed to the European public’s opposition to Turkey’s membership, the JDP leadership has refused to see its policy reversals on the EU as products of its own failures. Instead, it has blamed the EU. What was extremely unsettling for Turkey’s pro-EU liberals and democrats was the JDP government’s backslide into an undemocratic discourse to limit the freedom of expression. The Prime Minister acknowledged, in the Kurdish city of Diyarbakir in August 2005, that there was a ‘Kurdish problem’ as a problem of democracy, and that the Turkish state had made mistakes in its dealings with the Kurds (Zaman 2005). The Chief of the General Staff, General Hilmi Ozkok, immediately lashed out at the prime minister: ‘‘the biggest problem facing Turkey is that of separatist movements which resort to terrorism as a means to achieve their objectives’’ (Awad 2005). The establishment rallied around General Ozkok in protesting against the prime minister and reiterating that the Kurdish problem is one of terrorism. The opposition party leader, Deniz Baykal, went further: ‘‘terrorism in Turkey is politically planned and cannot be resolved by democratic means’’ (Ozkok 2006). The government’s concession to the armed forces and the secular establishment was so complete that from that point on there was no Kurdish policy thought out, debated and implemented by the government itself. A restrictive anti-terror bill was introduced by the government, on the grounds that the mounting threat posed by the Kurdish rebels since they ended a fiveyear truce in June 2004 made this amendment necessary. Many articles of the new law passed on 29 June 200642 fell behind the amendments made by the past governments and the ruling party in the Anti-Terror Law on two occasions,43 regarding free speech, dissemination of ideas, press freedoms and human rights. More importantly, from the view of civil-military balance, the warnings of General Ozkok that democratization reforms by the JDP government, in its bid for the EU, have hampered the fight of the security forces against Kurdish terrorism played a critical role in the total convergence of the government with the TAF on the primacy of state security over freedoms.

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The government, in other words, endorsed the traditional security understanding of the military that the fight against Kurdish terrorism is a zero-sum game to be played under the military’s directives. The consensus was so complete that it was not only the prime minister who warned the JDP’s Kurdish deputies not to oppose the bill, but the Foreign Minister, Abdullah Gul, made no qualms about the superiority of ‘state’ over ‘human’ security: ‘‘Don’t forget that freedoms cannot be enjoyed without feeling secure’’ (Balci 2006). The prominence of Justice Minister Cemil Cicek, a well-known conservative-nationalist figure in the government, heightened the fears and concerns of pro-EU liberal circles that the JDP’s political discourse was shifting to a point where the traditional national security definition, as locked into a military solution to all political problems and threats, once more seriously undermined the democratic authority of the civilian government. Moreover, throughout 2005 and 2006, prominent journalists, intellectuals, publishers and renowned novelists, one of whom was the Nobel Prize winning novelist Orhan Pamuk, the other Elif Safak, were charged with ‘denigration of Turkishness,’ under Article 301 of the Penal Code, which stipulated up to three years in jail. Hrant Dink, editor of the TurkishArmenian newspaper Agos, was among those charged and tried under the same crime. Five eminent intellectuals and journalists who criticized the courtordered cancellation of an academic conference on the Armenian issue, which was finally held in Bilgi University in Istanbul on 24 September 2005, were charged under the same article before Hrant Dink was slain by a gunman in Istanbul on 19 January 2007. Showing an extraordinary resistance, the Justice Minister Cemil Cicek could succeed in rejecting44 the pressure on the removal of the article coming from inside and the EU45 on the grounds that it violates the EU standards and keeps freedom of expression under threat. This unforeseen resistance to keep the article unchanged attests to a conservative right-wing shift in the party’s discourse in accordance which EU-backed liberalizations were no longer the centerpiece of its achievements.46 Loss of Government’s Security, Euro-Fatigue and Going with the Flow of Xenophobic Anti-politics The record of the party since 2004 stresses two major factors as shaping the growing strategy of maintaining a ‘negative peace’ in its relationship with the military at all costs. They are, first, its loss of security and self-confidence stemming from a realigned and stronger coalition of secular forces locked in their ‘radical doubt’ over the JDP’s ‘Islamic’ aspirations. The unfettered strength of this coalition causes a loss of a sense of normalcy within the JDP’s political leadership in its relationship with the military. The second force is the less than favorable signals coming from the European Commission about Ankara’s membership. Combined with the reactions to the

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Kurdish question, these dynamics open up a space for the decline in the democracy discourse and its replacement by some repackaged conservative nationalist reactions. Converting the NSC into an advisory body that has little effective influence over national policy in the first phase was a radical move. That the JDP government knowingly took the risk of a confrontation with the military leadership shows that it felt that it was in a secure enough position to attempt to establish civilian supremacy. On the other hand, the retreat from democratic reforms contains elements that represent the JDP’s fear and insecurity emanating from a sense of being under siege by court decisions, public speeches and behavior of the high command, the heads of the high administrative courts and a significant body of secular citizenry.47 The sense of loss of normalcy by the ruling party sapped its confidence, put up the costs of antagonizing the secular front and imposed sharp limits to any further reform-like changes regarding the fundamental issues like the Kurds, Cyprus, minority rights and democratization of civil military balance. Rather than renewing its resolve to hold on to the democratization issue as a means to erase the state elite’s grip on politics, the government has slid backwards in that resolve and compromised with the ‘strong’ side. The final blow to the self-confidence of the government in its ability to manipulate politics was delivered by the website memorandum of the general staff during the presidential election process in April 2007. This memo manifests the total failure of the government’s military policy which rested precisely on the avoidance of this possibility. The idea of the EU defies divisive nationalism. For a candidate country that has started accession talks with the EU, the armed forces’ open challenge of the EU demands to establish democratic oversight over the military and the escalation of nationalist and chauvinist themes in the ruling party discourses represent two major paradoxes. However, there are a number of explanations: a key reason for the upsurge of this chauvinist wave is the doubts, insecurities and defensive positions surrounding the EU issue and which have been articulated in a nationalist discourse. This discourse underpins the rise of security-first considerations in politics, as well as the consequent fall of a rights-based policy line by the JDP. It is true that the rise of resentment and disenchantment with the EU is a form of ‘Euro-fatigue,’ stemming from the ‘shaming’ rhetoric the country has been subjected to for a very long time. The government maintains that the EU has placed ‘tough new conditions’ on Turkish entry, in response to Europe’s own domestic fears and concerns about the Turkish membership, and devised the new formula of a ‘special membership’ rather than full member status.48 As the commitment to enlargement suffered a blow with the strong ‘no’ votes to the EU constitution in France and the Netherlands, the JDP government has further hardened its rhetoric (Fraser 2005).49 It has emphasized not only that Ankara has fulfilled the requirements of entry, but also that the EU increasingly

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applies double standards and uses Turkey’s individual, cultural and human rights records ‘‘to mask its anti-Muslim prejudices’’ (IISS 2002/2003). In a speech he made at the European Council’s Summit meeting in Warsaw three years after he came to power, Prime Minister Erdogan condemned the efforts to define terrorism on the basis of ‘‘cultural and religious’’ coordinates and expressed his concern on the resurgence of anti-Islamic sentiments in Europe as a means to define ‘the other’ (Hu¨rriyet 2005). The EU officials, in turn, are vexed by what they consider a reversal in the government’s discourse towards the EU. But, missing from this fury has been a serious analysis of the incentives that caused the government to shift from a deep commitment to the EU towards a position which reflects insecurity, bitterness and impatience. The survival instinct of the government has told it to go with the flow of xenophobic outrage rather than address the insecurities feeding nationalism. Escalating into a politics of hatred, this particular brand of nationalism, which was built on a polarized rhetoric and was marked with hostility towards leftists, democrats, liberals, EU supporters, human rights activists, anti-militarists and conscientious objectors, have been making streets and courtrooms unsafe. The prime minister’s desire (if not sympathy) to ride on his paranoid nationalism is related to his plans to win the conservativenationalist support in the upcoming parliamentary elections in 2007. Basing his argument precisely on this plan, the former head of the EU Commission’s delegation in Ankara, Hansjoerg Kretschmer, attributed the government’s reluctance to carry on with the EU-driven reforms to the nationalist constraints of the double-elections the government would have to face in 2007 (presidential and general) rather than to Euro-fatigue (Demirelli 2006). Interestingly enough, in adopting a protest discourse about the emerging ambivalence of the EU to Turkish entry, the JDP government has increasingly been converging with the establishment’s position regarding the EU intentions on Turkey. The JDP government also shares the prevalent threat conception in Turkey which perceives the autonomy of a Kurdish entity in Northern Iraq as a serious threat to national security (turkishpress.com 2005). The government and the military agree that the American government has failed to take any steps against the rebel groups launching attacks from Northern Iraq into Turkey, apart from carrying out intelligence work.50 The general staff, the prime minister and the foreign minister seem to have arrived at a consensus on Turkey’s legitimate right to stage crossborder pursuits into Northern Iraq without the consent of the Iraqi government or the USA, if the Iraqi government fails to fulfill its obligations to prevent the attacks the Kurdish rebel groups launch into Turkey from Northern Iraq.51 However, the reemergence of the war against the Kurdish separatist movement and the renewed importance that has been attached to internal security threats have once more promoted the position of the military as being pivotal in the internal security crackdown as well as in foreign policy.

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In line with its general strategy towards the military in the second phase, which emphasizes an absence of tensions or rows in civil-military relations, the government has sustained a concordant relationship with the army on the Kurdish issue too. This consensus was broken in February 2007 when the Prime Minister and the Foreign Minister expressed their readiness to open talks with Iraqi Kurdish leaders to find ways of curbing the rebels in the north. The Chief of the General Staff, General Buyukanit, used a visit he was making to Washington to respond that he would not sit down and talk with those who provide support for Kurdish rebels (Milliyet 2007a). In one of his rare confrontational statements regarding the military, the Prime Minister said that the remarks of the army chief were the personal views of General Buyukanit and did not represent the military institution. However, the general staff immediately responded in a curt statement that quite the contrary, the views expressed by General Buyukanit were not his but that of the general staff as an institution (Milliyet 2007b).

The Breakdown of the JDP’s Military Policy The most extreme manifestation of the ‘breakdown’ in the civil-military equation came in an ultimatum-like statement put on the website of the general staff, hours after the first round of the presidential vote on 27 April 2007, in which the only candidate, Foreign Minister Abdullah Gul, marginally failed to receive what the opposition considered to be the quorum to be elected.52 The opposition parties boycotted the election and took it to the constitutional court on the procedural grounds that the necessary quorum was absent for the first round of voting to be held. At the time of this writing, the constitutional court’s decision had just come out in favor of the opposition’s challenge that the first round of voting was invalid. This means a new general election, which may or may not—depending on the reconfiguration of parties before the elections—give the JDP another parliamentary majority. If it does, Turkey’s problematic civil-military relations would gain extraordinary importance for the JDP in the new parliament. The government’s response in the interim period is to appeal to the country to safeguard the economic advances and social stability that the JDP government has provided after decades of uneven development and, at times, all-out political conflict. The tone and substance of the TAF’s statement, which was put on the general staff’s website on 27 April 2007, was extremely harsh; its timing was unprecedented in terms of being issued on the night of the controversial first round of presidential elections, which were already in the hands of the constitutional court. Besides, in a regime which has seen two full-blown (1960 and 1980) and two memorandum-linked military interventions (1971 and 1997), the latest one of which was also addressed to an Islamic-oriented party in 1997, this midnight statement was extraordinary in the sense of being the

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first explicitly worded warning to a democratically elected government in Turkey after the country had already been ‘officially connected’ to the EU as a potential member. The blatant tone of the warning, reiterated in somewhat incoherent and unconnected sentences,53 that ‘‘the problem during the presidential election has focused on secularism discussions’’ and hinted that it might act against the government, i.e., if it continued to keep Abdullah Gul’s name as its candidate for president (Radikal 2007b). It reemphasized the general staff’s conventional stand that ‘‘the TAF maintains its firm determination to carry out its legally specified duties’’ to protect the secular republic and that ‘‘it should not be forgotten that the TAF is a side in this debate and a staunch defender of secularism’’ (Tavernise 2007a). That the TAF went beyond its own conventional wisdom of incorporating soothing messages in the memorandum/ultimatum to preempt any damage to Turkey’s bid to join the EU54 shows that the EU project is a lost cause for them. Combined with the lack of sensitivity this memorandum shows for the markets and foreign investment, it is a fact that in the power contest between the two sides, the military’s rage against the JDP obscures the officers’ capacity for rational choice. However, it is also quite logical to say that the memorandum is the outcome of the JDP’s management of the military, which has put the armed forces permanently on the offensive while keeping the government constantly on the defensive.

Conclusion Given the fact that the self-assigned political role of the Turkish military to protect the secular tradition of the republic has assumed an existential importance since the JDP’s ascent to power, it seems clear that civil-military relations have turned into the centerpiece of the fundamental power struggle about who holds ‘real’ and who wields ‘nominal’ political power in Turkey. Against a backdrop where the JDP’s Islamic and democratic credentials coincide with its usefulness for the Western alliance in the region, it seemed ‘feasible’ for a political party—which was considered an absolute anathema to the secular establishment and the military—to attempt in earnest to alter the balance of power that sustains the ‘guardian’ role of the armed forces only nine months after its rise to power. The reform package aimed at introducing some semblance of normalcy to the civil-military equation by way of reducing the military’s overt political role and extending civilian authority to national security policy making. However, it was placed on the table, not as part of the JDP’s program but as part of meeting the democratic criteria of the EU. Although this was a government with more self-confidence and popular support than any government since 1983 and it did have a positive international support behind it, it introduced a fresh strategy towards the military only via the EU project about which there was a consensus within the civilian circles. This was a manifestation of the requirement that ‘political security’ is an essential condition for a civilian government in

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Turkey to be able to substantially reconfigure civil-military equilibrium. Driven by the concern to protect its corporate and political interests in the long-run, the TAF can be said to have balked at prioritizing its security-first ‘guardian’ discourse over an agenda of democracy and peace. It seems that there is a serious disconnection between ‘reformist’ and ‘defeatist’ phases of the government’s policy regarding the military. Soon after the accession talks began in October 2005, however, a number of structural and conjectural factors, notably the growing ambivalence of the EU to Ankara’s membership, together with an upgraded and more vocallyorganized secular establishment, have contributed to the JDP’s own policy reversals from its democracy-driven direction. The EU issue has served as a symbol for the ruling party to release itself from the insecurity of its predecessor parties’ and challenge the political role of the military. Once it regressed from that line, that constituted the most formidable cause for falling back into a sense of its own inadequacy and a policy of accommodation with military interests. The ruling party’s loss of vigor in its approach to the Europeanization project and EU-connected democratization policies has therefore led to the disappearance of a margin of security it could derive from successful policy performances to resist any potential political threats by the TAF. Thus, the JDP leadership was forced to abandon its proactive military policy. The result was a policy of taking the prominence of the military as given and adopting a conciliatory position in order to avoid tension and conflict. The price was being publicly vilified, threatened, challenged and warned by the military leaders. The ‘benefit’ side of this calculation was the double elections in 2007 to be won successfully without putting the country through any crises. From the JDP’s military policy perspective, the ‘statement of warning,’ issued on the general staff’s web page on the midnight of 27 April 2007, can be considered a blessing in disguise: as this pronouncement has brought the generals from the level of waging a ‘war of words’ to the actual battle ground of ‘all out war’ with the ruling party, it demonstrates beyond further proof that the JDP’s policy of non-confrontation at all costs turned out to be selfdefeating. The JDP government, at one stroke, is now forced to abandon its policy of sustaining a negative peace with the TAF and reposition itself toward a more realistic, constructive and democratic strategy which would prioritize establishing democratic oversight over Turkey’s military. It is also required to return to the accession process to end once and for all the prominence of military power ‘‘behind the formalities of civilian and democratic governance’’ (Luckham 2003: 14; Luckham 1996: 127–28). Are there grounds for optimism? The analysis presented in this chapter lends support to the view that there can be ground-breaking reform packages of the kind the JDP government passed in August 2003 as the cornerstone of a broader move to shore up the supremacy of constitutionally elected civilian organs in Turkey. A new strategic context, created by external circumstances and the gathering momentum of the deliberate policies of a

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popularly-backed government, can help to extend the boundaries within which civilians can operate without fear of drawing a response from the military. This supports the view that ‘critical junctures’ or ‘turning points,’ i.e., political factors outside the civil-military interface, can play as powerful a role as the sheer political will of a civilian government in making significant changes in the role of the military in the Turkish system. There is, in other words, much more dynamism in the history of JDP and military interaction than historical, institutional and cultural frames can account for. The Turkish case may help add another piece of evidence to the wisdom that established institutional balances are not automatically resilient and that no matter how deeply entrenched the civil-military equilibrium appears to be, those institutions that are favored by the historical balance of forces ‘may not’ be able to preserve the status quo. As a result, the choices available to the TAF high command can be reduced to either confrontation or the acceptance of some curtailment of its own power. As seen in the first phase, it can opt for the latter option in order to preserve its power base and corporate interest, without which it cannot preserve its political preeminence. When we look at the broader picture there is also a genuine trend towards a more democratic civil-military equilibrium. The seeds of doubt have been sown in the Turkish public mind over whether the real motive behind the military leadership’s resistance to further political liberalization and integration with the EU is its radical doubt about the anti-secular intentions of the JDP or its concern that Brussels-imposed reforms would transfer political power to a government which may refuse to remain within the parameters drawn by the military. Despite the rise of xenophobic anti-political sentiments, there is a newfound resolve that the precepts that shape threat perceptions, national security, national interests and the role of the military are neither above politics, nor permanent, nor technical and bureaucratic processes, transcending civilian governments, politicians, parliaments, media and civil society. The EU project has made clear the conditions and possibilities for change in the civil-military balance: without dismantling the state-centered security rationale for an expanded military role in politics, democracy cannot be expected to grow. This is so mainly because democracy cannot flourish in a setup which denigrates democratic politics and civilians. A context of political dignity, in other words, is what is needed.

Notes 1 The grand-predecessor of the JDP was the Welfare Party, which was founded in 1983 and closed down by the Constitutional Court in January 1998, on the grounds that it had become a focal point of anti-secular activities. It was succeeded by the Virtue Party in 1997, which, again, was closed down in June 2001. The movement was eventually split into the traditionalist Felicity Party, founded in July 2001, and the reformist Justice and Development Party, founded in August 2001.

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2 On four occasions during the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, the military intervened in some fashion to reshape Turkish politics, always returning control, however, to civilians after a short interval. The fifth intervention, on February 28, 1997, marked a qualitative change in the situation, when the military-dominated National Security Council (Milli Gu¨venlik Kurulu, NSC) brought down a constitutionally elected coalition government headed by Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan, leader of the pro-Islamic Welfare Party. 3 I borrow the term from Anthony Giddens, who uses it as a paradoxical notion entailed by the Enlightenment’s claims to certainty. See Giddens (1994: 56–61). 4 A circular was issued by the ministry, on 16 April 2003, asking the Turkish embassies abroad to include in their network of support the organizations of Islamist oriented National Outlook Movement. When the circular leaked out, it caused an uproar among the organs of the secular establishment, forcing the government spokesman to defend it as covering organizations of all political views. See Yetkin (2003a) and Radikal (2003a). 5 President Sezer vetoed the crucial provision of the package which annulled Article 8 of the Anti-Terror Law on the grounds that removing the article would leave anti-secular activities unpunished. But parliament overrode his veto by not changing the provision. The president was constitutionally obliged to sign it on 18 July 2003. 6 Thus, for example, in October 2003, Kemal Gu¨ru¨z, the former head of the Council of Higher Education (YOK), a strong arm of the secular establishment, issued a statement accusing the government of introducing anti-secular principles in its proposed reform draft on the universities. The debate dragged on and ended in the government withdrawing the draft and resubmitting it later with its content significantly diluted. See Koylu¨ (2002). 7 This statement was made by the leader of the main opposition Republican People’s Party, Deniz Baykal, upon the chief of the general staff’s interjection during deliberations over the parliamentary motion which allowed the deployment of American troops access to Iraq via Turkish territory. Zaman (2003). 8 An example of this comes from the Republican People’s Party leader, Deniz Baykal, again after the capture of Abdullah Ocalan, the leader of the Kurdish terrorist group, the PKK, in 1998. He denied any credit to the government and the civilian intelligence forces for the arrest of Ocalan and instead emphasized that the process had started with a speech by the Army commander, General Atilla Ates, in which he warned Syria to deliver Ocalan to Turkey. See, Elevli, (1998). 9 More to the point, during the days in which parliament passed the watershed reform legislation that curbed the executive powers of the NSC, Cemil Cicek, the Minister of Justice, in order to placate the high command, came up with a statement the accuracy of which is doubtful from the point of view of the secular establishment: ‘‘not only do we not see any problems in keeping the NSC, but we have not envisaged radical reforms (to it either).’’ See Sazak 2003. 10 In accordance with this new provision, the October 2003 monthly meeting of the NSC was not held for the first time in 41 years. 11 Foreign Minister Abdullah Gul used the term in a speech he made in New York. See Milliyet (2004b). 12 Although not objecting to the appointment of a civilian as the NSC’s Secretary General, the general staff headquarters demanded that the government should take into consideration the military’s view if it plans to appoint a general to the post. Thus, the chief of general staff and the prime minister agreed on appointing another general as the Secretary of the NSC for 2004. 13 In the post-Cold War Euro-Atlantic region, the concept and practice of security sector reform (SSR) aims to provide stability and security through an efficient

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and accountable provision of security by those tasked with the perception of threats, and the formulation and implementation of security policies. SSR must also ensure that those elected and non-elected civilian bodies with the responsibility to oversee the sector ‘‘can effectively’’ do so. Reform in this sector is implemented largely via the communication of particular values and norms from Euro-Atlantic organizations in the form of conditionalities expressed as accession requirements for these same organizations. The NATO Study on Enlargement specifies military reforms to promote armies to Western standards. See www.nato.int/docu/basictxt/enl-9502.htm. The EU does not specify SSR items, but the 1993 Copenhagen European Council resolution, the ‘Copenhagen Criteria,’ draws guidelines for candidate countries to realize reforms in the security sector consistent with the stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities. See, http://europa.eu.int/comm/enlargement/intro/criteria.htm. Additionally, the Agenda 2000 resolution of the European Parliament included more specific norms for the accountability of the police, military and secret services, and the principle of conscientious objection, as conditions to meet for accession to Europe. See www.europarl.eu.int/. OSCE’s Code of Conduct of Politico-Military Aspects of Security signed in Budapest, CSCE Summit, 5–6 December 1994, is the strongest document in this regard. See, www.osce.org/docs/English/1990–99/ summits/buda94e.htm. Nato (2000) ‘Study on NATO Enlargement.’ Available online at: www.nato.int/docu/basictxt/enl-9502.htm. The latest NSPD came in October 2005 without much radical change from the preceding document of 29 April 1997, which identified Islamic activism and Kurdish separatism, in that order of priority, as the key security threats while the (November 18) 1992 NSPD had singled out Kurdish terrorist acts as the foremost security threat to the state. It seems clear that the JDP’s concern was particularly focused on preventing political Islamists from being considered as an internal security threat. Established in 1982 and commencing operations in 1984, the State Security Courts have been civilianized since June 1999, after the European Court of Human Rights passed a verdict in 1998 that its composition—with one military judge among two civilians—was against the European conventions. To prevent criticism of the trial of ¨ calan, the PKK leader, the military judge sitting on the bench was Abdullah O removed and replaced with a civilian one. The EU Commission’s Regular Reports have repeatedly specified that the powers and proceedings of these courts should be brought further in line with the EU standards. The first round of democratization reforms passed by parliament on 6 February 2002 dealt with the issue only procedurally by reducing the custody period for crimes tried in the State Security Courts. The scope of its functions is being transferred to the Heavy Crimes Courts that are being set up. ‘The 28 February process’ describes the military’s plan to refashion Turkey’s political landscape along Republican secular lines without actually having to take power directly. See Cizre and Cinar (2003). From the speech by commander of the 1st Army, General Cetin Dogan, on the occasion of his retirement. See Radikal (2003b). The speech made by General Tuncer Kilinc¸, former secretary general of the NSC, at the Ankara War Academy in 2002 is representative of this group’s ideas. See Gorvett (2002). Eric Edelman, US Ambassador to Ankara, was reported to have stated this to Radikal, 10 March 2004. However, the leaders stipulated Turkey’s recognition of the Greek Cypriot Republic of Cyprus as one of the conditions for the accession talks to begin. As a full diplomatic recognition of Cyprus Republic was regarded as ‘redline’ for the

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secular establishment, including the military which has 30,000 troops in northern Cyprus, a compromise was reached in which Turkey agreed to sign its 1963 association accord with the EU’s forerunner, the customs union, extending it to cover all the EU members, including Cyprus. Ertugrul Ozkok, the pro-deployment chief editor of the popular Hu¨rriyet newspaper and an ardent supporter of the army, published an editorial mocking the resolution of the NSC meeting as ‘sterile:’ ‘‘the NSC issues a sterile resolution which amounts to saying ‘take your own decision, don’t involve us’ . . . So, it becomes clear that when very important decisions are to be taken regarding the future of Turkey and the region, we can no longer rely on the NSC’s recommendations.’’ See Ozkok (2003). One such incident was the Turkish military’s decision to pull back from its timetested wish of deploying additional Turkish Armed Forces to northern Iraq in order to contain the outlawed PKK (Kurdish Workers’ Party (also known as the Kurdish Freedom and Democracy Congress or KADEK) because it was not supported by Washington. See Sariibrahimoglu and Hughes (2003). The TAF high command also suffered further humiliation when the US military captured eleven Turkish soldiers suspected of plotting to assassinate a Kurdish governor in the Iraqi city of Kirkuk. Through two major constitutional reforms made in 2001 and 2004 and eight legislative packages passed between February 2002 and July 2004, three areas of structural issues of reform, as indicated by the EU except the position of the chief of the general staff (he is still responsible to the prime minister rather than the defence minister), have been tackled. Full diplomatic recognition of the Cyprus Republic was regarded as the ‘redline’ for the secular establishment, including the military which has 30,000 troops in northern Cyprus. A compromise was reached in which Turkey agreed to sign its 1963 association accord with the EU’s forerunner, the customs union, extending it to cover all the EU members, including Cyprus. It was declared to be ‘‘an immensely significant day for Europe,’’ the then Dutch Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende and the chairman of the European summit, said in a news conference on 17 December 2004. Three speeches made on different occasions by the leaders of the Army and the president of the republic can be given as ‘selected’ examples from among the many sharing the same theme. The first speech was made by General Ilker Basbug, commander of the Land Forces, on 26 September 2006; the other was made by the Chief of the General Staff, General Yasar Buyukanit, marking the beginning of the new academic year at the Military Academy on 2 October 2006; finally, the third was the President’s address to the parliament marking the new legislative year. A leading NGO, The Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation (Turkish acronym TESEV) has actively been promoting the cause of democratic oversight of the security sector in collaboration with the Geneva Center for Democratic Control. It has single-handedly been playing a pioneering role since 2003 in sensitizing the public to security issues; creating a security-conscious community capable of monitoring and overseeing the sector; and in establishing the norms and principles of the issues of the democratic governance and oversight of the security sector. Its line of activities cover publication of studies, reports, organizing conferences, workshops, book-launching meetings; and holding training seminars for target groups. In October 2006, on the occasion of launching the English edition of its publication of Almanac Turkey 2005 Security Sector and Democratic Oversight, edited by the author of this article, the chief of the General Staff, General Buyukanit, publicly attacked TESEV, the Almanac and its contributors on the grounds that the attempt was directed at undermining the military.

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30 Kretchmer made this remark as a keynote speaker in the launching of the English edition of Almanac Turkey 2005 on 18 September 2006. 31 They are: 1) Articles 35 and 2) 85/1 of the TAF Internal Service Code which define the duties of the Armed Forces as the protection of territorial integrity and secularism of the republic; 3) Article 2 a of the Law on National Security Council Secretariat which defines national security in such broad terms that it could, if necessary, be interpreted as covering almost all aspects of policy; 4) the inability of civilian authorities to fully exercise their supervisory functions over the formulation of national security strategy; 5) lack of full control over the defense budget. (EC 2004a). 32 See, for instance, the communique´s issued after the 30 November 2004 meeting. 33 The alleged writer of the diaries, retired Admiral Ozden Ornek, later denied having kept a diary. The weekly, Nokta, was closed down by its publisher two weeks later, most probably due to threats and warnings made by those whose interests were hurt by Nokta’s publication of sensitive and secret news and information leaked out of the military, damaging to the reputation of the armed forces. 34 Just before the EU Commission issued its annual report on Turkey in October 2004, the government, in an amendment clause to the Penal Law, criminalized adultery. After a wave of protests by the Union and internal opposition, the clause was withdrawn. The second controversy arose in the next round of amendments to the Penal Code in June 2005 on the clauses constraining the freedom of the press and decreasing the maximum sentences against those who run illegal educational institutions. Impelled by the fear that this provision would encourage the opening of illegal Koran courses that would infringe on the secular foundations of the educational system, the President vetoed the amendment. 35 However, due to the age limit of 65, General Ozkok’s period of service could not be extended. 36 The chief of the police intelligence, Sabri Uzun, maintained the view that Semdinli bombing was carried out by the gendarmarie. Sabri Uzun was suspended of duty and his allegations were not investigated. 37 General Buyukanit commented on the incident by saying that he knew one of the non-commissioned officers named Ali Kaya and that he was a ‘‘good man.’’ The commander also added that if Kaya committed a crime, he should pay for it. This statement was interpreted in the media as being aware of the actions of the accused non-commissioned officers who were presumed to have undertaken the bombings with the blessings of the military high command. 38 Prior to Semdinli, 18 bombings had taken place in Hakkari, Yuksekova and Semdinli. 39 Hurriyet, 29 March 2006. 40 After a gunman opened fire, killing one judge and wounding four others of the High Administrative Court on 17 May 2006, for instance, the Prime Minister came up with a sharp response to the call made by the then Chief of the General Staff, General Ozkok, that the mass reaction to the incident should not be limited to a single day but must continue all the time. Erdogan reminded the high command of its responsibility on ‘‘what and how’’ to advise the public and attacked the opposition leader, Deniz Baykal, who characterized the incident as a ‘coup’ against the military. See BBC (2006); ‘Erdogan Condemns Efforts To Bring Government and Army Up Against Each Other’, Zaman. Available online at: www.zaman.com.tr/webapp-tr/haber.do?haberno = 286957&keyfield. (accessed 21 May 2006). 41 ‘Erdogan Condemns Efforts To Bring Government and Army Up Against Each Other’, Zaman. Available online at: www.zaman.com.tr/webapp-tr/haber.do?haberno = 286957&keyfield (accessed 21 May 2006).

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42 The new articles increase penalties for terror offences, remove the upper limits for penalties, reintroduce jail sentences for journalists accused of propogating terrorism, and allow judges and prosecutors to stop the publication of periodicals. 43 In 1995 and 2003, amendments were made to clarify the definition of terrorism in line with international norms, which require specific rather than broad definitions. Also, in 2003, Article 8 of the Anti-Terror Law, which penalized crimes against the state, was removed. 44 The justice minister defended the article on the grounds that the upsurge in Kurdish terrorism in the southeast made it very hard to impinge on the other charge that freedom of speech was also breached in the EU countries. 45 See the debate in the European Parliament on Turkey on the report (Eurling’s Report) in Strasbourg on 26 September 2006. http://europa.eu/rapid/pressReleaseAction.do?reference = SPEECH/06/536&format 46 The signals had already come earlier in the aftermath of the publication of the EU Commission’s Regular Report for 2004, which defined minorities in Turkey both ethnically and in terms of Muslim and non-Muslim religious communities. Converging with the secular establishment, the government emphatically rejected that definition, emphasizing that neither Turkey’s ethnic Kurds nor Alevites, a Muslim minority sect, were to be considered as minorities. 47 The ruling by the High Administrative Court on 8 February 2006 on two issues is a prominent example: female schoolteachers who covered their heads outside the school premises but opened them inside were declared unemployable by the state. Next, graduates of Preacher and Orator Schools would not be entitled to receive another diploma from Open Air High schools. In April 2006, the head of the Appellate Court made fierce speeches lashing out at religious communities and religious reactionism, the Semdinli incident and the intervention of the Minister of Justice and the EU into the affairs of the judiciary. See Milliyet (2006c). 48 Erdogan insisted that Turkey would agree to no compromises, would only accept full membership and expects ‘honest politics’ from European leaders in terms of sticking to their word to start negotiations on 3 October 2005. 49 The decision of the European Court of Human Rights in May 2005 that Turkey should retry the imprisoned leader of the seperatist Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK) added fuel to the difficulties of the government, caught between its priority cause of joining the EU and the nationalist reflex in the country. 50 Prime Minister Erdogan said during his state visit to Washington in June 2005 that the US administration is focused on getting the Iraqi administration in Baghdad settled and does not show sufficient commitment to fighting against the PKK in Northern Iraq. See Pickler (2005). 51 At a press conference on 19 July 2005, General Ilker Basbug, the Deputy Chief of the General Staff, said that Turkey has the right to make military incursions into Iraq to pursue the militants of the outlawed Kurdish Workers’ Party (PKK), which called off the truce on June 1, 2005. For the report on the General’s press conference, see Bila (2005). For the Prime Minister’s convergence on the issue see Idiz (2005). For the Foreign Minister Abdullah Gul’s concurrence see Milliyet (2005). 52 The opposition claimed that only 361 members were present at the vote which they claimed was short of the constitutional requirement of 367, two-thirds majority, for a quorum. Many constitutional experts and the JDP argue that only 184, one-third of the deputies, were required by the constitution for the vote to be valid. 53 The amateurish wording raise doubts about its true authors: there are rumours circulating that this is a product of the disunity in the army as it was put on the web site by a small group of officers led by a General without the full knowledge of the general staff.

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54 The EU Enlargement Commissioner, Ollie Rehn, reacted by saying that this is a clear test case of whether the TAF respect democratic secularism and the democratic values of the EU.

References Awad, M. (2005) ‘Analysis: Turkish Prime Minister faces Military’s Ire’, 29 August. Available online at: www.wpherald.com (accessed 12 April 2007). Balci, K. (2006) ‘AK Parti Torn Over Anti-Terror Bill’, The New Anatolian, 20 April. BBC (2006) ‘Turkish PM Criticizes the Army Chief’, BBC News, 20 May. Available online at: www.newsvote.bbc.co.uk/mpapps/ (accessed 12 April 2007). Berkan, I. (2003) ‘Kendi Halkini Tehdit Gormek’, Radikal, 27August. Bila, F. (2005) ‘Irak Engellemezse, Biz Engelleriz’, Milliyet, 20 July. Birch, N. (2007) ‘Ankara Protest Opens Window on Turkey’s Brewing Culture War’, Eurasianet. Available online at: www.eurasianet.org/departments/insight/articles/ eav041607final.shtml (accessed 16 April 2007). Cagaptay, S. (2002) ‘The November 2002 Elections and Turkey’s New Political Era’, Middle East Review of International Affairs, 6. Available online at: www.meria.idc.ac.il/journal/2002jv6n4a6.html (accessed 16 April 2007). Cizre, U. (2003) ‘Demythologizing the National Security Concept: The Case of Turkey’, Middle East Journal, 57: 213–29. Cizre, U. and Cinar, M. (2003) ‘Turkey 2002: Kemalism, Islamism and Politics in the Light of the February 28 Process’, South Atlantic Quarterly, 102: 309–32. Cizre-Sakallıog˘lu, U. (1997) ‘The Anatomy of the Turkish Military’s Autonomy’, Comparative Politics, 29: 151–66. Demirelli, F. (2006) ‘Kretschmer: No Reform-Fatigue in Turkish Government’. Interview with Krettschmer, Turkish Daily News, 21 March. Available online at: www.turkishdailynews.com.tr/article.php?enewsid = 38737 (accessed 21 March 2006). EC. (2004a) Regular Report 2004, from the Commission on Turkey’s Progress Towards Accession, Brussels: Commission of the European Community, 6 October. —— (2004b) Recommendations on the 2004 Regular Report on Turkey’s Progress towards Accession, Commission of the European Communities, 6 October. —— (2005) European Commission, Turkey 2005, Progress Report, Brussels: Commission of the European Community, 9 November. —— (2006) European Commission, Commission Staff Working Document, Turkey 2006 Progress Report, 8 November. Elevli, N. (1998) ‘Gensorudan Donus Yok’, Milliyet, 14 November. Finch, J.S. (1998) The Armed Forces and Democracy in Latin America, Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins Press. Fluri, P. and Cole E. (2003) ‘ Security Sector Reform in South East Europe: a Study in Norms Transfer’, in Heiner Hanggi and Thedor Winkler (eds) Challenges for Security Sector Governance, Munster: Geneva Center for Democratic Control of Armed Forces, Lit Verlag. Forster, A. (2002) ‘New Civil-Military Relations and Its Research Agenda’, The Political Quarterly 2: 71–87. Fraser, S. (2005) ‘Turkey Insists on Membership as EU Sticks to Talks Date’, Associated Press, 27 June. Available online at: www.news.yahoo.com7ap7200506267ap_ re_mi_ea7turkey_eu.

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Giddens, A. (1994) ‘Living in a Post-Traditional Society’, in Ulrich Beck, Anthony Giddens and Scott Lash, (eds) Reflexive Modernization, Stanford: Stanford University Press. Gorvett, J. (2002) ‘Turkish Military Fires Warning Shot over EU Membership’, The Middle East, 323: 33–34. Hunter, W. (1997) Eroding Military Influence in Brazil, Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press. Hu¨rriyet. (2003) ‘Bizi Ferahlattiniz’, Hu¨rriyet, 4 January. —— (2005) ‘Avrupa’ya Islam Dusmanligi Uyarisi’, Hu¨rriyet, 17 May. —— (2006a) ‘Genelkurmayin Gizli Sifreleri’, Hu¨rriyet, 21 March. —— (2006b) ‘Gizli Anayasa Tamam’, Hu¨rriyet, 20 March. Idiz, S. (2005) ‘Erdogan’dan Myers’a Yanit: K. Irak’a Gerekirse Sormadan Gireriz’, Milliyet, 20 July. IISS. (2001/2002) Strategic Survey, The International Institute for Strategic Studies. London, Oxford: Oxford University Press. —— (2002/2003) Strategic Survey, The International Institute for Strategic Studies. London, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kaldor, M. and Salmon A. (2006) ‘Military Force and European Strategy,’ Survival, 48: 19–34. Keskin, A. (2003) ‘Baro: Gizli Donem Bitsin’, Radikal, 29 August. Koonings, K. (2003) ‘Political Armies, Security Forces and Democratic Consolidation in Latin America’, in G. Cawthra and R. Luckham (eds) Governing Insecurity, Democratic Control of Military and Security Establishments in Transitional Democracies, London and New York: Zed Books. Koylu¨, H. (2002) ‘Rektorlerin AKP Isyani’, Radikal, 21 December. Kuser, M. and Dinmore, G. (2007) ‘Turkish General Calls for Troops in Iraq’, Financial Times, 12 April. Available online at: www.ft.com/cms/s/923bc072-e91f11db-a162–000b5df10621.html (accessed 12 April 2007). Lowry, H.W. (2000) ‘Turkey’s Political Structure on the Cusp of the Twenty-First Century’, in M. Abromowitz (ed.) Turkey’s Transformation and American Policy, New York: Century Foundation Press. Luckham, R. (1996) ‘Faustian Bargains: Democratic Control over Military and Security Establishments,’ in Robin R. Luckham and G. White (eds) Democratization in the South, the Jagged Wave, Manchester and London: Manchester University Press. —— (2003) ‘Introduction’, in G. Chandra and R. Luckham (eds) Governing Insecurity, London, New York: Zed Books. Milliyet, (2003) ‘MGK Butcesi Yuzde 60 Azaldi’, Milliyet, 2 November. —— (2004a) ‘AB’ye Cok Yakinsiniz’, Milliyet, 16 January. —— (2004b) ‘MGK Golge Hukumetti’, Milliyet, 29 September. —— (2005) ‘Operasyon Ihtimal Disi Degil’, Milliyet, 20 July. —— (2006a) ‘Ok’tan Sert Cikis’, Milliyet, 8 April. —— (2006b) ‘Ozkok: Laikligin Garantisi Ulustur’, Milliyet, 29 August. —— (2006c) ‘General Buyukanit: Cumhuriyeti Korumak Siyaset degil Gorev’, Milliyet, 29 August. ——, (2007a) ‘Kuzey Irak Tartismasi, Asker Olarak Ne Gorusecegim’, Milliyet, 18 February. —— (2007b) ‘Gorusu Kurumsal’, Milliyet, 2 March. . Nokta, (2007) ‘2004’te Iki Darbe Atlatmısız’, Nokta, 29 March–4 April, 22: 10–39.

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Ozel, S. (2003) ‘After the Tsunami’, Journal of Democracy, 14: 80–94. Ozkok, E. (2003) ‘Simdi Baris Yanlilari mi Kazandi?’, Hu¨rriyet, 2 March. —— (2006) ‘Barisla, Pergelle Olmaz’, Hu¨rriyet, 9 August. Pickler, N. (2005) ‘Bush Holds Up Turkey Democracy As Example’, Seattle PostIntelligencer, 8 June. Available online at: http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/printer/ ap.asp/category = 1151&slu (accessed 12 January 2006). Pion-Berlin, D. (2001) ‘Introduction’, in D. Pion-Berlin (ed.) Civil Military Relations in Latin America: New Analytical Perspectives, Chapel Hill, London: University of North Carolina Press. Pollock, R.L. (2005) ‘The Sick Man of Europe-Again’, The Wall Street Journal, 16 February. Prodromou, E. (2000) The EU and Cyprus: Mediterranean Enlargement, Seminar paper, European University Institute, Robert Schuman Center for Advanced Studies, Florence, 8 June. Radikal, (2003a) ‘Sahin: Milli Gorus Genelgesi Dogru’, Radikal, 23 April. —— (2003b) ‘Dogan: Saldirilar Suruyor’, Radikal, 21 August. —— (2003c) ‘Yeter ki AB’li Olalim’, Radikal, 19 October. —— (2004) ‘Erdogan: Baski Yapmayin’, Radikal, 12 May. —— (2007a) ‘Askerin Cankaya Kriteri: Cumhuriyet Degerlerine Sozde Degil Ozde Baglilik’, Radikal, 13 April. —— (2007b) ‘Genelkurmay’in Sert Layiklik Uyarisi’, Radikal, 28 April. Robins, P. (2004) ‘Whatever the Outcome in Cyprus, Erdogan Wins’, Daily Star (Beirut Daily), 14 April. Sariibrahimoglu, L. (2004) ‘Turkey Cuts Military Spending’, Jane’s Defense Weekly, 17 March. Sariibrahimoglu, L. and Hughes, R. (2003) ‘Iraq: The Turkish Factor’, Jane’s Defense Weekly, 2 April. Sazak, D. (2003) ‘MGK Mahkeme, Hukumet Sanik Gibi’, Interview with Cemil Cicek, Milliyet, 21 July. Tavernise, S. (2007a) ‘Turkish Government Issues Rebuke to Army’, International Herald Tribune, 28 April. Available online at: www.iht.com/bin/print.php?id = 5487905 (accessed 28 April 2007). —— (2007b) ‘Turkish Military Issues Threat as Voting Is Derailed’, The New York Times, 28 April. Tiryaki, S. (2004) ‘Cyprus Barrier on Turkey’s EU Path’, Turkishnewsonline, Available online at: www.turkishnewsonline.com/detay.php. (accessed 7 March 2004). Turkish Daily News, (2003a) ‘Government Plans to Rewrite Turkey’s Secret Constitution’, Turkish Daily News, 3 August. —— (2003b) ‘General Ozkok: Troubling Situation in Iraq’, Turkish Daily News, 10 November. turkishpress.com, (2005) ‘General Basbug: If Results of Elections Cause Serious Problems in Kirkuk, It May Create a Serious Security Problem for Turkey As Well’. Available online at: www.turkishpress.com7news.asp?ID036622 (accessed 30 January 2005). —— (2006) ‘EU Warns Turkey To Step Up Reforms To Avoid Train Crash’. 3 October. Available online at: www.turkishpress.com/news.asp?id = 144874 (accessed 4 October 2006). Vink, M. (2003) ‘What Is Europeanization and Other Questions on a New Research Agenda’, European Political Science, 3: 63–74.

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Wulf, H. (2005) ‘Security Sector Reform in Developing and Transitional Countries’, Berghof Research Center for Constructive Conflict Management. Yetkin, M. (2003a) ‘Son Damla Milli Gorus’, Radikal, 23 April. —— (2003b) ‘Ozkok ‘‘Acele Neden’’ Dedi’, Radikal, 31 December. —— (2006) ‘Ankaradaki Hassas Denklem Bozuluyor Mu?’, Radikal, 27 September. Yu¨ksek, F.S. (2004) ‘TSK’yle Uyum Mesaji’, Radikal, 2 January. Zaman, (2003) ‘Zamanlama Tam Yerinde’, Zaman, 6 March. —— (2006) ‘Semdinli Case Marks Turkish Political Agenda’, Zaman, 7 March. Available online at: www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load = detay&link = 30604. (accessed 7 March 2006). Zaman, A. (2005) ‘Turkish Prime Minister Pledges Further Reforms for Kurds’, VOA, 12 August. Available online at: www.voanews.com/English/20005 (accessed 14 August 2005). Zeyrek, D. (2003) ‘Bu Guc Sadece MGK’da’, Radikal, 27 August.

Part III

European Union dimension

7

The Justice and Development Party and the European Union From euro-skepticism to euro-enthusiasm and euro-fatigue Ali Resul Usul

Turkey’s aspiration to be integrated into the European state system could be said to have started in the eighteenth century, when the Ottoman Turks realized that they had fallen behind the European states in terms of military technology, administrative systems and economic prosperity. Therefore, Turkey’s relations with the principal European states and organizations since the eighteenth century have been understood by the Turkish governing elites as a process of catching up with the contemporary level of civilization through ‘Europeanization.’ While modernizing elites in Turkey have generally regarded Turkey’s integration with Europe as the major driving force in modernization, the conservative/Islamic circles in Turkey have harbored deep suspicions about further Westernization and the penetration of Western cultural values into Turkey. The latter groups, until very recently, have held antiWestern and Euro-skeptic views and questioned Turkey’s further integration with European states and later the European Union (EU). From this point of view, the Justice and Development Party (JDP)’s views on Turkey-EU relations, on Turkey’s membership in the EU, and on Europe deserve further analysis in order to demonstrate the transformation not only of Islamically-oriented social and political movements in Turkey but also of a party with Islamic roots, in government. This study aims to demonstrate the transformation of the ideas of the conservative/Islamic groups in Turkey and of the JDP’s basic policies concerning Europe and Turkey’s integration with the EU.1

Anti-European Outlook within Traditional Islamic, Conservative and Nationalist Thought An anti-European or anti-Western outlook has been at the center of the conventional thinking common to Islamic, Conservative and Nationalist intellectual traditions in Turkey2 (Canefe and Bora 2003: 128; Bora 2002: 252). According to this view, as the European cultural values are in fact a fundamental part of Western/European imperialism, thus representing ‘cultural imperialism,’ their dominance in Turkey and in all non-Western states increases the power and scope of European/Western imperialism. Even though Muslim Turkey could benefit from European technological advancements, it

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does not belong to the European culture. This argumentation maintains that Turkey should import technological and scientific know-how from the West while achieving an authentic modernization.3 While non-Western modernization means liberation from Western hegemony, Westernization, according to this view, means the enslavement of Turkey by the Christian/ Western imperialistic states. The National Outlook Movement and Europe The National Outlook Movement (NOM) has been one of the most important and controversial movements within the Islamic circles in Turkey. Necmettin Erbakan has been the undisputed leader of the movement and has ruled the movement through establishing a series of political parties. These include the National Order Party (Milli Nizam Partisi) (NOP) that was founded in January 1970 and the National Salvation Party (Milli Selaˆmet Partisi) (NSP) that was founded in October 1972 to succeed the NOP. The NOP had been banned by Turkey’s Constitutional Court on the grounds that the party had become the hub of the anti-Kemalist and reactionary activities that aimed to destroy the secular character of the Turkish Republic. Erbakan founded the Welfare Party (Refah Partisi-RP) (WP) as the third party of this movement and led it to a surprise success in the general elections of 1995. He became Prime Minister in 1996 in coalition with C ¸ iller’s True Path Party (Dogru Yol Partisi-TPP). Until the paradigmatic changes in the movement took place at the end of the 1990s, the NOM had for a long time regarded the West/Europe as the source of problems in all Muslim states including Turkey, and Europeanization as an act of treason committed against Turkish/Muslim civilization. Those that defended Europeanization, in their view, merely mimicked the European states and thus served as puppets of the Western states.4 Thus, more Europeanization would serve to bring to an end the independence of Turkey, and Turkey would ultimately be bound to serve as an agent for imperialist and Zionist powers. The EU, an organization that had been established by six Catholic countries, was in reality a vehicle to serve Zionist interests, and Europeanization of Turkey would result in the imminent colonization of Turkey (Erbakan, 1971 and 1975). Not only Erbakan, but other influential leaders of the NOM were against Turkey’s integration into the EU. Oguzhan Asiltu¨rk, an important leader of the movement, while speaking on behalf of the WP in Parliament, stated that all political parties except the WP were in favor of Turkey’s EU membership, which would be the end of the last Muslim Turkish state in terms of bringing about its assimilation with the Christian majority in the EU (cited in Yenigu¨n 2004: 54). Abdullah Gu¨l—the current Turkish Foreign Minister and the second most powerful person in the JDP who is now actively defending Turkey’s EU bid—when he was the deputy chair of the WP in charge of Foreign Affairs in 1995, criticized the Customs Union agreement

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between Turkey and EU and argued that since the EU was essentially a Christian club, it would never allow Turkey to join. However, Erbakan and his friends were not against the importation of Western/European ‘science’ and technology. This has long been a common position for almost all prominent Islamic/Conservative/Nationalist circles as stated above. They likewise did not oppose the forging of good economic relations with the EU (Erbakan 1991: 13; C ¸ ayhan 1997: 70–74). The Welfare Party leadership started to revise their traditionally Euroskeptic view on Europe and the EU during the 28th February process, during which the military in Turkey forced the government to accept draconian measures in its struggle against an alleged increase in ‘Islamic fundamentalism’ in Turkey. Erbakan had already started to soften up his Euro-skeptic statements when it was understood that he would be the Prime Minister after the general elections held on 24 December 1995. The WP became the leading party with 21 percent of the votes and Erbakan began to tone down his rigid rhetoric regarding the EU and EU-Turkey relations, mainly because he suspected that the President would not call him to form a government because of the rigidity of his arguments on Turkish politics and the EU.5 For example, while just before the 1995 elections Erbakan asserted that he would reject the Customs Union if the WP . won the elections (Milli Gazete 1995), when addressing a meeting of TISK (Turkish Confederation of Employer Association) on 29 December 1995, he declared that the WP was not in essence antiEuropean and against a Customs Union with the EU per se, but that they were merely advocating the need for just economic relations with the EU (Zaman 1996). After Erbakan formed the WP-TPP coalition, which came to be known as the ‘Refahyol’ (Welfare-Path),6 as well as during the 28th February process, the leaders of the NOM to a large extent dropped the Euro-skeptic views7 that they had espoused up to that point in time. They even started welcoming pressures from the EU concerning human rights abuses in Turkey and the non-democratic nature of the Turkish political regime, in particular the position of the National Security Council, and the military in general. This was due to the overlap between the European conditionality that necessitated important reforms in the political regime, including the demilitarization and establishment of democratic/civilian control of the military, and the efforts of the party to find a way to cope with pressures exerted on party leaders and the grassroots emanating from the military-led-establishment. For example, when the EU excluded Turkey from the next round of enlargement at the Luxembourg Council in December 1997, Erbakan stated that the EU rejected Turkey because of Turkey’s anti-democratic political regime (Zaman 1997). He also stated in the Parliament on 2 December 1997 that the Council of Europe (CE) would suspend Turkey’s membership if the Constitutional Court banned the WP,8 because the very ethos of the CE rested on the central ideals of democracy, freedoms and human rights (Ayın Tarihi 1997).9

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Oguzhan Asiltu¨rk, who had hitherto been one of the most vigorous defenders of the anti-European perspective within the movement, openly advocated Turkey’s integration with the EU. He asked the government to submit to European pressures for democratization and the implementation of key freedoms during a debate in the Parliament on the EU Commission’s 1999 Helsinki Summit decisions10 (cited in TBMM Tutanak Dergisi 1999a). In a similar vein, Recai Kutan—the figurehead leader of the Virtue Party (VP), which succeeded the WP after the latter party’s prohibition in 1998— claimed that as the EU required more democracy and freedoms from Turkey, those who had been accused of being anti-western could not now be considered as being against the EU, while the so-called ‘Westernizers (Batıcılar)’ were being tested in terms of their understanding of modernity and Europeanization. Kutan believed that the Copenhagen criteria11 were the real benchmark for Turkish ‘Westernizers,’ through which the degree of their Europeanness would be evaluated (TBMM Tutanak Dergisi 1999b). He also indicated that ‘‘the Virtue Party (now) views the EU in a positive light and thinks that the process will improve West-Turkey relations and help contribute to Turkey’s democratization’’ (Kutan 2000: 20). This paradigmatic change has attracted various academic studies that endeavor to explain the political context of change.12 A number of researchers explain the change through an instrumentalist perspective, in terms of the way that the WP and the VP, and later the JDP, had been severely oppressed during the 28th February process, and, as a result, started to see the democratic conditionality imposed by the EU and the subsequent diminution of the role of the military as beneficial to their own survival (Dagı 2004 and 2005). Other researchers contend that the change would carry more meaning if it were analyzed within a broader social, economic and political context. According to this explanation, increasing ‘globalization’ and its components, including the global resurgence of liberal democracy and the EU, have substantially contributed to the reshaping of Turkish politics, including that of the ‘Islamist political identity’ and the connected rhetoric (Kosebalaban 2005). This literature has attached a great . importance to the ¨ SIAD-the Independent growing influence of ‘Muslim businessmen’ (the MU Industrialist and Businessmen’s Association) within the Turkish economy. According to this argument, these businessmen are satisfied with the results of the Customs Union as it opened up new business opportunities for them and made them increasingly dependent on Western economies for markets, technology, advertising, consulting and production services (Ayata 2004). Islamically-oriented citizens, NGOs and political parties welcomed the 1999 Helsinki decisions, hoping that Turkey’s further integration with the EU would make the political regime more tolerant toward Islam in the public sphere, serve to normalize politics and signal the end of the 28th February process (Ilıcak 1999; C ¸ elik 1999; and Bulac¸ 1999).

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Post-2002: The JDP Government and EU-Turkey Relations The nature of the JDP, which was established after the VP was banned by the Constitutional Court in June 2001, reveals the degree of the transformation of the movement. The leadership of the JDP, which generally became socialized in a strong Euro-skeptic political atmosphere, has so emphasized the importance of Turkey’s future EU membership on both the domestic and international political stage that some researchers have defined the change as being one of moving from anti-Westernism to Euroenthusiasm (Ayata 2004) or Europhilia (Dagı 2004: 143). Thus, the JDP leadership can genuinely be seen to have dropped its former Euro-skeptic orientation and to have started to believe that EU membership is both economically and politically beneficial for Turkey. In addition, the JDP leadership can be said to consider that the process of Turkey’s EU membership and the conditionality of the EU would lead to a more democratic Turkey in which the undemocratic position and influence of the military would be changed in a more democratic direction. This is in spite of the fact that the EU pressures on Turkey’s political regime have not generally included any addressing of the specific problems that preoccupy the thoughts of the conservative circles in Turkey, such as a relaxation of the . headscarf problem or more concessions to Imam Hatip schools. The general tendency of the JDP leadership is that a general improvement in democracy in Turkey would bring positive results for all circles or groups in the country, including Islamically-oriented circles.13 This ‘‘freedom-through-the-EU’’ expectation is very clearly articulated in Abdullah Gu¨l’s (2000: 68) article: The state policy. . . . concerning Turkey’s accession to the EU is today generally accepted by the majority of the society. The majority of the people, with the exception of a marginal group worrying about its gained privileges, (and) even the circles that have traditionally been against Westernization, have started to see the EU as a more secure environment, harbouring an impulse created by the 28th February process, which diminished to a large extent fundamental freedoms and rights and conducted official discrimination against a particular section of the society without any mercy. This is because the idea that Turkey could realize a pluralist democracy, a civil regime . . . human rights . . . and individual freedoms only within the EU framework is dominant in Turkey. When the JDP came to power in 2002, influential circles from business, military and civil society in Turkey and abroad, harbored deep suspicions about the true nature of the party. The leadership of the party came from the NOM and these circles were not convinced as to whether the JDP would prove merely to be another party of this deep-rooted movement, although the leaders declared several times that this was not the case and that they ‘‘had removed the shirt of the National Outlook Movement’’ (Milliyet 2003;

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Zaman 2003). The Euro-enthusiasm of the party has generated an opportunity for the JDP leadership to demonstrate its support for common European values and the Europeanization-westernization-modernization process, which had been very critical to win over secularly-oriented and . ¨ SIAD (Turkish Indusinfluential civil society organizations, such as the TU trialists’ and Businessmen’s Association) and the military.14 In other words, the JDP’s Euro-enthusiasm from the very beginning has helped the party leadership to show that they had dropped their Euro-skeptic, anti-Western and anti-modern attitudes and that they now strongly believe in the modernization/Westernization of Turkey which could be best achieved through EU membership. Moreover, the JDP leadership gave clear signals that the societal and political groups that are highly sensitive to the secular character of Turkey’s political regime need not be afraid of the JDP simply because it is not possible to change the secular character of the regime and establish a religious, Islamic state within the EU. In the international arena too, the strong attachment to the EU bid of the JDP demonstrated that the party was not anti-European/Western and its leadership consisted of pro-EU and moderate politicians. Since a number of strong actors in the civil society harbored deep suspicions about the extent to which the JDP was truly devoted to the values of a secular and modern Turkey,15 the EU has served as an instrument through which the party leadership has attempted to demonstrate its sincerity concerning the modernization and the Westernization/Europeanization of Turkey. On another level, the displays of Euro-enthusiasm show that the JDP desires a Europeanized Turkey more strongly than other ‘secularist’ parties, because the party leadership has put a greater amount of effort into Turkey’s EU bid and has achieved more progress in this regard than any other political party. The JDP has become the party that makes Turkey a negotiating candidate for membership; this is a feat that no party has achieved before. In addition to the importance of the EU’s ‘anchoring’ of the Turkish economy which was on the brink of meltdown in 2002, the JDP leadership seems to believe that the EU integration process would substantially help the government to ‘normalize’ Turkish politics. In other words, the economic and non-economic anchoring would help the government to reduce Turkey’s two long-lasting major causes of fragility: regime crises that had resulted in military interventions several times in various forms, and economic/financial breakdowns. Therefore, democracy and freedoms have come to constitute the backbone of the party in the EU process in accordance with the ideology that it espouses: conservative democracy.16 The Idea of Europe and the JDP As discussed above, within the Islamic/nationalist/conservative tradition, the term ‘Europe’ has generally encompassed negative connotations equal to

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those of imperialism, Christian unity against Muslims (the Crusades), corruption and economic exploitation. However, when analyzing the rhetoric about Europe and the EU, it is possible to observe a series of significant changes as regards to their conception by the JDP. One important change is a new conception of Europe not as a mono-cultural entity but a collection of multi-cultural traditions and identities. Likewise, it is considered that Christianity might be the dominant religion but there are several divisions of it (Akdogan 2004a: 27). Accordingly, the concept of European Muslims has also been re-invented. Abdullah Gu¨l (2000: 68) stresses this point, arguing that although some people have seen the EU as a Christian union and even as a Christian club, there are about 30 million Muslims living in the EU member states. Furthermore, as an advisor to Erdogan put it ‘‘a great amount of the cultural contributions to Europe from the philosophy of ancient Greece and from the discoveries of Arab culture were carried out on the territory of Turkey’’ (Akdogan 2004a: 24). The JDP leadership often highlights the secular character of Europe against the exclusive rhetoric of the Christian democrats that have rejected Turkey’s EU membership because of Turkey’s Muslim majority. According to Davutoglu, ‘‘those European politicians that introduce the EU as a Christian club and those who regard Turkey-EU relations as a new version of European Imperialism are not acting correctly.’’ (Davutoglu 2001: 504). The JDP in Government and the Process of Integration When the JDP became the ruling party after the 2002 general elections, Turkey-EU relations were at a difficult crossroads. The EU declared the Accession Partnership document for Turkey on 8 October 2000 and Turkey adopted the National Programme for the Adoption of the Acquis (NPAA), a wide-ranging document addressing most of the priorities stated in the Accession Partnership, on 19 March 2001. It introduced a comprehensive agenda of political and economic reforms. However, the document was prepared in a loose manner in the sense that clear timetables and deadlines were not provided. The previous coalition government had already carried out a major constitutional amendment in October 2001, along with three harmonization packages.17 Although these amendments were very important,18 subsequently, the EU declared several times that Turkey had not fulfilled the Copenhagen political criteria and reminded Turkey that compliance with the EU conditions was essential to start the negotiation process. From the period following the JDP’s victory in the 2002 general elections, Turkey’s EU integration process has become the fundamental driving force in the JDP’s domestic and international policy. Even before the JDP officially formed the government, the JDP leader, Erdogan, started a series of whistle-stop visits to EU member countries. He went to Rome on 13 November, Athens and Madrid on 18 November, and continued with visits

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on 19 November to Germany, Belgium, and France; he visited London and Brussels on 20 November and then Dublin on 21 November. After Dublin, he moved to Strasbourg and met with Pat Cox, the president of the European Parliament. These visits were of great interest in spite of the fact that Erdogan was not yet a representative of the government, and he was able to negotiate Turkey-EU relations with prominent European leaders, such as Simitis, Papandreou, Aznar, Schroder, Fischer, Blair and Straw. After the JDP formed the government, the speeding up of harmonization efforts was an immediate priority for the JDP’s leadership in foreign and domestic policy. The reason why the government targeted extracting a date to start negotiations was to ensure that Turkey would be anchored into the EU and that any reaction to it from within the EU would be difficult to sustain. The new government’s rush could also be explained by the upcoming Copenhagen European Council, at which Turkey was expecting to receive a definite date for the beginning of accession talks. The so-called Fourth Harmonization Package was rapidly introduced to Parliament on 3 December 2002. It was adopted on 2 January 2003 and came into force on 11 January 2003. The Fifth Package was quickly submitted to the Parliament by the new government on 9 December 2002 and was passed on 23 January 2003. The JDP government has successfully implemented three more reform packages for the EU membership and the last one (ninth package) is in the process of being prepared. In addition to the reform packages, more constitutional amendments were carried out in May 2004, new human rights bodies have been created, and the government has signed a number of international human rights conventions, which are all somehow related to EU-Turkey relations. The Copenhagen European Council held in December 2002 announced that if ‘‘Turkey fulfils the Copenhagen political criteria, the European Union will open accession negotiations with Turkey without delay.’’ Then on October 2004, the Commission gave green lights to Turkey in its Recommendations on the grounds that Turkey had sufficiently fulfilled the Copenhagen political criteria and recommended that the EU should open negotiations with Turkey (European Commission 2004). Future membership of Turkey was the main issue at the Brussels Summit held in December 2004, at which heated exchanges took place between EU leaders and the Turkish government on the subject of starting accession negotiations. The decisions agreed at the Summit included a number of controversial provisions that had not been introduced to any EU candidate before. Although the EU leaders agreed to open negotiations with Turkey on 3 October 2005—which can be regarded as a significant structural advancement in relations—five points in the agreement sparked severe reactions in Turkey: the issues of permanent derogations; the extension of the 1963 Ankara Agreement to the (Greek) Republic of Cyprus; the absorption capacity of the EU; a statement in the agreement that the negotiation process would be open-ended; and the issue of the maintenance of good relations with Turkey’s

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neighbors with particular focus on the Aegean issue. These points revealed that the method that the EU would apply to Turkey’s integration with the EU would be different from the previous methods that the Union had applied for the former candidates and for Central and Eastern European Countries (CEECs).19 Negotiations during the Summit and decisions reached at its end shed light on the position of the JDP leadership concerning the process of Turkey’s accession to the EU: The JDP government could have rejected what might seem to be ‘discriminatory’ decisions of the EU and could have continued its brinkmanship diplomacy, increasing tensions between Turkey and the EU. However, the government did not choose to discontinue the EU process, which might have led to disadvantageous developments in Turkish politics and the economy. Instead, it accepted the EU proposals attempting to change these unfavorable points during the accession process. Thus, the accession negotiations officially started on 3 October 2005 in spite of the obstructive efforts of Austria.20 Despite a number of difficulties in its relations with pro-EU circles, the government continues its anchoring to the EU. Hence, it could be inferred that the integration process for the JDP leadership is more precious than EU membership per se (C ¸ elik 2002).

Challenges to the EU Anchoring and Emergence of Euro-Fatigue A number of difficulties are likely to continue to challenge the progress of the JDP’s EU policy. These problems have had the potential of cooling EUTurkey relations as well as boosting Euro-skepticism in Turkey and among the grassroots of the party.21 Cyprus Cyprus is the foremost issue that serves to unleash a crisis in relations. While it acts to increase Euro-skeptic feelings in Turkey, it also has the potential of bringing about a severing of formal relations. When the EU gave candidate status to Turkey at the 1999 Helsinki Summit, the Union unusually put the Cyprus problem as a condition that Turkey should fulfill within the EU accession process. This was highly unusual because Copenhagen political criteria have been the standard political conditions that candidates should comply with in order to make progress in the way toward the EU membership. An international dispute, which is not directly related to the Copenhagen criteria and to Turkey’s political regime was put forward as a criterion for Turkey at the 1999 Helsinki European Council and in all vital documents related to the accession process including the 2001, 2003 and 2006 Accession Partnerships. After the EU declared that negotiations with Turkey would begin in October 2005, it also introduced an additional protocol in June 2005 asking Ankara to extend the 1963 Ankara Agreement, which is the basic agreement

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between Turkey and the Union to the ten new EU members including ‘the Cyprus Republic.’ In practice, this would mean the opening of Turkey’s harbors, airports and air spaces to the Republic of (Greek) Cyprus. The Turkish government, in order not to sever the EU process, signed the additional protocol; however, it declared unilaterally that Turkey does not recognize the current Cyprus Republic as the one that Turkish and Greek Cypriots established together in 1960. The EU then declared again on 21 September 2005 that it recognizes only one government in Cyprus and that Turkey should recognize the Cyprus Republic within the process of negotiations and open its ports and airports to it. The EU leaders and the Commission (Olli Rehn in particular as a head of the enlargement) continue to exert heavy pressure on the JDP government in this regard and openly declared that if Turkey does not open its ports and airports to the Greek Cypriots, the process of negotiation will be halted (Washington Post 2006; Hu¨rriyet 2006a; Hu¨rriyet 2006b). The government’s stance against these pressures has been to argue that Turkey would open its ports, airports and airspace were the EU to keep its promise to abolish all isolationist measures against the Turkish Cypriots.22 Since both sides (Turkey and EU) continue to insist on maintaining their dug-in positions on this matter, by the end of 2006, ‘‘a train crash’’ that would deteriorate wider relations and the integration process in particular and as pronounced by Olli Rehn, who is the EU’s enlargement commissioner, was imminent (Guardian 2006; The Independent 2006; Financial Times 2006a; Financial Times 2006b). The EU Commission announced in its 2006 Progress Report on Turkey and its 2006 Strategy Paper on 8 November 2006 that Turkey should comply with the requirements of the Additional Protocol and open the ports and airports prior to the next EU Summit on 14–15 December and that ‘‘failure to implement its obligations in full will affect overall progress in the negotiations’’ (European Commission 2006: 10). More importantly, the European Commission recommended on 29 November 2006 that the EU should suspend accession talks on eight of the thirty-five negotiating chapters to punish Turkey for its failure to comply with the additional protocol and to open its harbors and airports to traffic from Greek Cyprus. Furthermore, the Commission also recommended that none of the other remaining chapters could be formally closed until Turkey carries out the provisions of the additional protocol. Although the EU Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn emphasized that this decision ‘‘is neither a train crash, nor a freeze, nor hibernation,’’ he accepted that relations were slowing down (Turkish Daily News 2006a). On the same day, Erdogan described the decision of the EU Commission as ‘‘unacceptable’’ while attending the NATO Summit in Riga on 29 November. On his return to Turkey, he clearly refrained from using a provocative rhetoric against the decision and expressed determination to move ahead with the EU bid, presenting the Copenhagen criteria as ‘‘Ankara criteria’’ and the Maastricht

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criteria as ‘‘Istanbul criteria.’’ The government has largely succeeded in hiding its anger over the decision because it has not yet given up on the role ‘anchor’ that the EU has played so far. Contrary to the expectation of the JDP government, Angela Merkel, Germany’s chancellor, together with Jacques Chirac, suggested on 5 December 2006 that the EU Commission should draw up a progress report on the state of the EU negotiations with Turkey some time between the elections in autumn 2007 and the European elections in spring 2009. Such a proposal is likely to make it more difficult to find solutions to the abovementioned problems.23 Eventually, the European Council approved the Commission’s recommendation that the EU should suspend accession talks on eight chapters on 15 December 2006. Opening Turkey’s ports and airports without the abolition of the isolationist measures of the EU against the Northern Cypriot Government would be damaging for the government given that Cyprus has always proved to be a sensitive security issue in Turkey.24 Prime Minister Erdogan openly argued just after the publication of the 2006 Regular Report that no government in Turkey would make further concessions on the Cyprus issue under these circumstances. Furthermore, the Greek Cypriot leader Tassos Papadopoulos has so far refrained from supporting any rapprochements with the Turkish Cypriots.25 More EU pressures will probably therefore increase Euro-skepticism and decrease the popularity of the EU in Turkey. Expressions of Turco-skepticism in the EU In addition, increasing Turco-skepticism and Islamophobia in Europe and in the declarations of the EU leaders, in particular the Christian Democrats, against Turkey’s membership have been contributing to an increase in Euroskepticism in Turkey. This is not a new development as the history of Turkey-EU relations is full of these statements.26 The EU leaders who question Turkey’s membership advocate that Turkey-EU relations should continue on a path that would not lead to full membership, but rather to what has been labeled a ‘privileged partnership.’ A number of influential European leaders, including Chancellor Angela Merkel, Wolfgang Schu¨ssel, the prime minister of Austria, Edmund Stoiber, the leader of the conservative Christian Social Union in Germany, and Nicolas Sarkozy, the interior minister of France, continue to openly oppose Turkey’s EU membership (Financial Times 2006d).27 Furthermore, Turkey’s prospects of joining the EU took a heavy blow when France’s National Assembly approved a bill on 12 October 2006 which would make it a crime to deny that Armenians were the victims of genocide during WWI. The French legislation sparked huge reactions from all over Turkey and came to be regarded as a sign that France would continue to oppose Turkey’s EU membership (Financial Times 2006e).

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Another problem that may well contribute to the increasing feeling of fatigue in Turkey towards the EU and that may directly influence JDP decision making is the fact that the integration process with the EU has not yet created a favorable atmosphere that provides more freedoms for conservative circles, which constitute the JDP’s grassroots and cadres, in terms of their special demands. These include the headscarf problem and the issues of Preacher and Orator Schools (Imam Hatip High Schools). According to this viewpoint, while the EU has pressurized Turkey to provide more liberty to most of the ‘minority’ groups in Turkey, including Alevis, leftists, Kurdish nationalists and even gays and lesbians, the headscarf issue, which was deemed as one of the most serious human rights violations by conservative circles in Turkey has not even been mentioned in the progress reports, the Accession Partnership document or other EU documents. The EU did not openly criticize even the 28th February process, which was regarded by conservatives as being intrinsically anti-democratic. This ‘double standard’ of the Union has been seriously criticized by certain conservative organizations like Mazlum-Der (Organization for Human . Rights and Solidarity for ¨ SIAD (2004: 30).28 FurtherOppressed People) (Ensaroglu 2000) and MU more, the European Court of Human Rights (ECTHR)’s decisions on such issues as the headscarf issue (in particular the case of Leyla Sahin) and the closure of the WP, confirmed the limitations of European institutions in this regard and served to increase feelings of Euro-skepticism among conservative circles in Turkey.29 The Political Criteria The Copenhagen criteria also continue to be a sensitive issue in EU-Turkey relations. Although the EU confirmed that Turkey had sufficiently complied with the criteria, the EU institutions have several times declared that Turkey has not fully attained the credentials to be considered a liberal democracy and therefore more democratizing reforms are necessary for it to become an EU member. The Union has also at various times articulated that the reformist character of the JDP government has slowed down and Turkey should increase its efforts in this regard (European Commission 2005: 41). As stated before, the notion of the conservative democracy espoused by its leaders is often used to highlight JDP’s democratic character. The political reforms carried out by the JDP government on the way to membership of the EU are important because the party was able to demonstrate concretely its commitment to democratic credentials. Indeed, since Turkey became a candidate at the 1999 Helsinki Summit, the governing elites have generally responded positively to the EU’s requirements and substantial legal amendments have been carried out within the period. Turkey made numerous amendments in the Constitution, laws, circulars, and regulations between 2000 and 2006.30 Five ‘harmonization packages’ out of a total of eight have been carried out during the time period the JDP government has

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been in power. However, the EU has criticized the government on the grounds that more reforms are needed and that the pace of change has slowed down. The basic issues on which the EU has demanded more reforms include the 10 percent threshold for Parliamentary representation; further democratic control over the armed forces; limiting the scope of Parliamentary immunity; the Alevi issue; the Kurdish problem; the seizure of assets belonging to non-Muslim religious foundations and the Greek Orthodox seminary in Heybeliada; the ending of the village guard system in the Southeast; and introduction of rights for gays and lesbians.31 The Kurdish Issue The Kurdish question and its European connections are another matter on which the JDP government and the EU are at odds. Although the JDP government has indeed fulfilled a number of political reforms that increase the freedoms for Turkish citizens of Kurdish origin, the Union has been waiting for a comprehensive solution to the Kurdish question. The EU, in the Accession Partner documents asked Turkey to ensure ‘‘cultural diversity’’ which requires more substantial changes in the political regime. In the 2006 Progress Report, the Commission asked Turkey to change its conventional definition of minority32 by broadening the reforms on ‘‘minority education, minority languages, the participation of minorities in public life and broadcasting in minority languages’’ (European Commission 2006: 19). The EU also expressed the view that the 10 percent threshold makes the representation of Kurds in the Parliament problematic and asked Turkey to open, ‘‘a dialogue with local counterparts’’ to solve the problem (European Commission 2006: 22).33 Therefore, persistent EU pressure on the Kurdish question, together with the recent increase of Kurdish nationalism in Northern Iraq and the resurgence of PKK terrorism, has been influential in the re-emergence of the so-called ‘Sevres syndrome’ in Turkey and in invoking an increase in Euro-skeptic feelings among the wider public toward Europe and the European Union. The government has continued to send mixed messages in this regard. Prime Minister Erdogan stressed in 2005 the need to resolve what he called ‘‘the Kurdish issue’’ within democratic parameters. However, while visiting Norway in April 2005, he expressed the view that there existed some circles in Europe that wanted to divide Turkey and accused European governments of being too soft on anti-Turkish groups in Europe (Milliyet 2005a). Furthermore, Erdogan also criticized the European states of employing double . ¨ SIAD meeting, standards on terrorism.34 Similarly, while addressing a MU he stated that there were some pressures emanating from the EU that have aimed to divide Turkey (Zaman 2005). This skeptical outlook towards the EU’s conditionality on the Kurdish question could be seen in the public statements of other leaders of the JDP. For example, when the Human Rights Advisory Council of the office of the Prime Minister (Basbakanlık

188 Ali Resul Usul . Insan Hakları Danısma Kurulu) announced its report on ‘‘minority and cultural rights’’ in 2004, leading ministers, including Abdullah Gu¨l and Cemil C ¸ ic¸ek, criticized the report which argued that all ethnic-religious groups in Turkey were in fact a minority and the Turkish government should give them minority rights. According to the report, this was in fact a requirement of European conditionality (for membership) (Sabah 2004a; Sabah 2004b). Alevites Regarding the Alevite problem, the EU has several times asked Turkey to recognize ‘Alevis’ as a religious community and acknowledge the Cem Houses (cemevleri) as separate places of worship equivalent to mosques. However, the Prime Minister has often articulated that if Alevism means a love of Ali or a devotee of Ali’s principles, he himself is more Alevi than the Alevis (Radikal 2004). Furthermore, it seems that the dominant view in the JDP is that Alevism is simply a different interpretation of Islam and that the Cem Houses cannot be equal to the Mosques which are deemed as common places of worship for all Muslims. Cem Houses can only be regarded as cultural centers where some religious activities are performed (Radikal 2005). The EU has criticized the government for its persistence in not including . Alevis on the Board of the Presidency of Religious Affairs (Diyanet Isleri Baskanlıgı) which is a Sunni-dominated organization. However, the JDP leaders argue that the Diyanet is not a Sunni-led organization and that if the Diyanet were to include an Alevi interpretation of Islam, all other ‘Sufi interpretations’ should be included as well. In addition, in the EU’s view, ‘‘Alevi children are subject to compulsory Sunni religious instruction in schools, which fails to acknowledge their specificity’’ (European Commission 2006: 16) It is not very clear today how the JDP could solve the problem without either severing relations with the EU or estranging its own conservative membership and grassroots support. Substantial further progress in this regard would probably necessitate the acknowledgement of Alevism as a separate ‘faith’ that has different places of worship (European Commission 2005: 31). It seems that any improvement on the Kurdish and Alevi issues would not be so easy, bearing in mind the fact that the grassroots of the party and some influential leaders and members of the party are skeptical concerning the EU-minority connections. Furthermore, particular concentration and substantial improvement on the issue might provoke strong reactions from the armed forces and civil and political opposition that might put the JDP in a difficult position domestically. Therefore, even the recent reform packages (the ninth package) that the government has prepared for the EU do not involve any substantial advancement on these matters. Thus, it seems that the JDP’s policy of anchoring itself to the EU in the fields of domestic and international politics has met serious challenges. On

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the one hand, all these problems serve to increase the feeling of Euro-fatigue in Turkey: according to recent surveys (Eurobarometer 2006; Milliyet 2006), support for Turkey’s EU membership has noticeably decreased. Foreign Minister Gu¨l declared that hesitation over Turkish membership, the EU’s soft attitudes toward the terrorist activities of the PKK, and US policies in the Middle East were causing an anti-European/Western backlash in Turkey (Financial Times 2006a). In addition, it is now clear that carrying out the more comprehensive reforms that the EU requires particularly in terms of the Kurdish question and ‘‘protection of minorities’’ is not so easy for the government in an environment where support for the EU is declining and the next general election is relatively soon (either early elections in June or in November 2007). On the other hand, recent criticism of the government by the newly appointed Chief of the General Staff, General Yasar Bu¨yu¨kanıt, demonstrates that politics in Turkey has not yet normalized and that the military continues to influence politics using formal and informal channels.35

The Felicity Party (FP) and the EU: A Return to Euro-skepticism? Although the WP changed its anti-European outlook especially in the aftermath of the 28th February process, the VP had been a pro-EU party from the beginning, even before the party was split and two rival parties emerged (the FP and the JDP). It seems that when the JDP decided to make the EU process the backbone of its domestic and foreign policy, the FP once again adopted a Euro-skeptic outlook and started to dress its policy in traditional anti-European rhetoric. For example, Recai Kutan, who once defended Turkey’s aspirations for EU integration when he was the head of the VP, has recently been calling on the JDP government to halt the EU process. He argues, ‘‘one of the most dangerous developments in Turkey’s foreign policy is the JDP’s willingness to enter the EU while making so many concessions.’’ For Kutan, it has become clear that the EU wants to divide Turkey through playing with Kurdish or other minority issues (Milli Gazete 2005a). Furthermore, in Kutan’s view (Milli Gazete 2005b), the government has lost Cyprus because of its submissive EU policy. Moreover, Ertan Yu¨lek (Milli Gazete 2005c), who is Deputy Chair of the party, recently argued, ‘‘the EU is a Jewish-Christian trick; they will never include Turkey . . . Turkey will always be a market for the EU . . . Turkey’s EU bid should be ended.’’ Sevket Kazan (Milli Gazete 2005d), former Minister of Justice and an influential leader of the party, put forward that the EU wants to make Turkey a servant to Europeans, and when Turkey becomes an EU member, it will be governed by Christian states. In fact, according to Akgonenc¸ (Milli Gazete 2005e), the EU is nothing more than a huge hollow balloon and the EU process is bringing us close to signing the second Sevres. Thus, she concludes that what the JDP government should do is to return to a national foreign policy, leaving the EU aside. It seems that there are conflicting ideas among the leaders of the FP: Some

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think Turkey would never be accepted as a member state while others argue that the Christians would govern Turkey when it becomes a member state. There are those who think the EU is a Judeo-Christian trick as well as those who believe it is full of empty promises. However, what binds these diverse groups is a very strong Euro-skepticism which is the negative mirror image of the JDP’s strong Euro-enthusiasm.

Conclusion The JDP’s ideological position concerning Turkey’s integration with the EU deserves a great deal of attention as the leaders of the party originally congregated in a political movement where anti-Western ideas had formed many of its central ideological tenets. That these leaders have come to rely on the need to anchor themselves to the EU after they came to power can be explained by the 28th February process. As discussed above, Turkey’s EU anchor serves to normalize the politics and economy of the country; bring the era of militarily-imposed civilian coalition governments that had been very active during the 28th February process to an end; and legitimize the JDP which was in name a new party but whose core cadre was from the NOM. The issue of the EU has occupied a central position in the JDP’s domestic and foreign policy even though the JDP seems to attach more importance to the process of the EU membership than to the EU membership per se. Turkey’s anchoring into the EU has helped the government to normalize politics in Turkey to some extent and stabilize Turkey’s fragile economy. However, as discussed above, the rising Euro-skeptic movements in Turkey and the incapacity of the government to carry out deeper political reforms have endangered the JDP’s policy of positioning the EU at the very center of its agenda. The Cyprus issue and the subsequent Greek blockage of the opening of new chapters in the substantive negotiation process have also slowed down the pace of accession talks. In addition, the accession process to the European club is a very significant part although not the whole picture for the JDP’s international politics. According to Davutoglu (2001: 507), who is simultaneously the chief foreign policy advisor to both Erdogan and Gu¨l, ‘‘Turkey must take Europe in general and the European Union in specific into both its global and regional strategic priorities as a fundamental parameter.’’ Nonetheless, although the EU is deemed central in its foreign policy, the JDP’s leadership would like its foreign policy to be multilateral; this means in practice forging strategic relations with a large number of countries from Africa to East Asia including states in the Middle East, Caucasia, Central Asia and Balkan countries as well as Russia and the US. Furthermore, in the eyes of the party’s policy makers, there appears to be no contradiction between Turkey’s European dimension and its multilateral foreign policy; on the contrary, good relations with the EU would increase Turkey’s influence in other regions of the world and vice versa (Gu¨l 2000: 68–69).

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Notes 1 The literature concerning the EU’s impact on the political regimes of the candidate countries can be roughly divided into two categories. One part of it attempts to explain certain dimensions of the democratization process in terms of the direct and indirect influences of the EU on the candidate countries, such as Greece, Spain and Portugal (Whitehead 1996; Schmitter 1994; Pridham 1991). The second group of literature analyzes the EU’s relations with the Central and Eastern European states (CEECs) by focusing on the application of the EU’s political conditionality as serving to promote domestic change among the CEES candidates (for example, Pridham 2002; Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier 2004;Vachudova 2005). 2 Mehmet Akif Ersoy, Necip Fazıl. (1997), Cemil Meric¸ (1974), Mehmet Kaplan (1996), Nurettin Topc¸u (1998), Ismet Ozel (1996), Ahmet Kabaklı (2004), and Sezai Karakoc¸ (2000) are among the Islamic-conservative-nationalist intellectuals that have contributed to the development of anti-European and Euro-skeptic literature in the modern Turkish republic. Necip Fazıl’s Bu¨yu¨k Dogu journal published between 1945 and 1978, had the aim of specifically demonstrating the greatness of the Orient against the collapsing and corrupted Western civilization. See also Mehmet Dogan (2000). . 3 There are varying views on this matter. Ismet Ozel, for example, takes a different . position in his rejection of Western technology. See, Ismet Ozel (1996) and Binnaz Toprak (1993). 4 Erbakan, has, for a long time, argued that there were in fact two political parties in Turkey: the WP and those parties that ape the West (Taklitc¸i Zihniyet). 5 In fact, the Motherland Party (Anavatan Partisi-MP) and the True Path Party (Dogruyol Partisi-TPP) Coalition Government was formed on 5 March 1996 with Mesut Yilmaz as the Prime Minister. This coalition government was called the Main Path (Anayol) and lasted for four months. When the TPP announced that it would support a motion filed by the WP against the government, Prime Minister Mesut Yılmaz submitted his resignation to President Su¨leyman Demirel on 6 June 1996. 6 Tansu C ¸ iller, the TPP chairperson, participated in this government as the Minister of Foreign Affairs and as Deputy Prime Minister. 7 In the1997 budget discussions, Osman Yumakogulları’s speech on behalf of the WP clearly demonstrated the change in the party’s rhetoric: ‘‘Turkey should not break off its relations with Europe; [on the contrary], it should improve its relations, because Turkey has historical roots in Europe and in addition about three million Turks continue to live there. These three million represent Turkey in Europe’’ (Cited in Yenigu¨n 2004: 289). 8 The WP was banned by the Constitutional Court in 1998 on the grounds that the party had become the hub of the Islamic fundamentalism that aimed to destroy the secular character of the regime in Turkey. The ban was upheld by the Grand Chamber of the European Court of Human Rights on 13 February 2003. 9 Koru (1997), for example, wrote just after the 1997 European Council meeting that Turkey’s democratic deficit was the primary reason for the EU’s exclusion of Turkey in Luxembourg and thought that continuing non-democratic practices in Turkey and EU’s exclusion of Turkey for this reason represented a ‘‘minor doomsday’’ for the conservative circles in Turkey. 10 Turkey became an official candidate for the EU membership at meeting of the European Council held in 1999 in Helsinki. The EU also declared that Turkey must comply with the Copenhagen political criteria and carry out various significant political reforms to start accession negotiations. The decision of the Helsinki Council was a real watershed in EU-Turkey relations and Turkey’s

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democratization, because for the first time, the EU granted Turkey an official status of membership, which would stimulate a number of democratizing reforms in Turkey. The Copenhagen European Council declared in 1993 that the EU candidate countries must fulfill certain conditions to start the accession negotiations. These political criteria included stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities. At present, there is a great deal of literature that analyzes this radical shift in the movement. See, Duran (2006, 2005), Dagı (2004, 2005), Dogan (2005), Kuru (2005), Ayata (2004), Kosebalaban (2005), Mecham (2004) and Taniyici (2003). Interview with Abdullah Gu¨l, 22 June 2000, the Turkish Parliament, Ankara. For an analysis of civil-military relations in the EU process, see Cizre (2004, 2003) and Misrahi (2004). . ¨ A good example for this is the TU . SIAD’s criticism of the JDP on 2 June 2006: ¨ Omer Sabancı, the chair of TUSIAD, criticized the JDP for being too slow in implementing EU reforms. Sabancı argued that acting so slowly during the EU process had created some doubts about the JDP’s sincerity as regards the direction of a modern/European Turkey. Furthermore, Hasan Cemal (2006), a wellestablished journalist, after having conducted interviews with a number of leading businessmen, concluded that there existed skepticism about the JDP’s sincerity concerning its attitudes towards the concept of a modern, secular Turkey and therefore the government should not give up the process of greater anchoring to the EU. The leadership has very often referred to this concept of democracy while defining the credentials of the party, and the party manifesto was announced as a program for ‘‘the development and democratization’’ of Turkey (AK Parti 2004). In this regard, Erdogan’s speech made at the ‘International Symposium on Conservatism and Democracy’ organized by the JDP and held in January 2004, used the term ‘‘deeper democracy’’ (derin demokrasi), which presumably was intended to mean a kind of participatory democracy (Erdogan 2004: 15). See, Akdogan (2004b). Some researchers think that the JDP can serve as a good model to start political openings in a number of Muslim countries, like Bangladesh, Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan and Turkey (Nasr 2005). Nasr, for example, defines these parties as ‘Muslim Democrat.’ However, regarding the JDP, Tepe (2005) criticizes the anti-democratic nature of the party. Changes made in laws in accordance with constitutional amendments as required by the EU are called harmonization packages. The amendments included the introduction of principles of equality between men and women, an increase in the number of civilian members on the NSC and some welcome steps towards improvements in human rights in Turkey. These included the reduction of detention periods; the abolition of the death penalty for criminal offences; the introduction of the right to a fair trial into the Constitution; and the lifting of the ban on statements and publications in Kurdish. See, Ozbudun and Yazıcı (2004) and Oru¨cu¨ (2004). It is true that the Union had introduced some restrictions on the freedoms of persons and structural and regional funds concerning the accession of the CEECs. However, all these restrictions and derogations were temporary. Accordingly, the process of negotiations in practice commenced on 20 October with the ‘screening process,’ which is a phase before the opening of ‘substantive negotiations,’ and the Science and Technology chapter became the first out of 35 chapters of the acquis communautaire to be screened. On 12 June 2006, the Intergovernmental Conference decided unanimously that the substantive negotiations could begin on the chapter of Science and Technology. The negotiations in the chapter were opened and closed on 12 June and the government thus

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managed to start negotiations and even close the chapter with the unanimous decision of the Intergovernmental Conference. A recent survey published on 24 October 2006 demonstrates that support for Turkey’s accession to the EU in Turkey has dramatically decreased from 67.5 percent in 2004 to 32.2 in 2006 and 78.1 percent of the Turkish population does not trust the EU (Milliyet 2006). The EU had already accepted the ‘Direct Trade Regulation’ and ‘Aid Regulation’ on 26 April 2004, after the Turkish Cypriots approved the Annan Plan in the referendum held on 24 April 2004 that the Greek Cypriots rejected. Although The EU leaders, after the referendum, accepted abolishing the isolationist measures against the Turkish part of the island, Greece and the Republic of (Greek) Cyprus (after it became a member in March 2004) have hindered the fulfillment of the regulations and the isolationist measures have continued up to the present time. Merkel had already called for the EU to agree a review or bring in a ‘rendezvous’ clause that would assess Turkey’s progress on meeting the EU’s demands on the additional protocol and Cyprus. This would have created a deadline for Turkey to open its harbors and. airports or face the likelihood of further sanctions. ¨ SIAD has declared several times that the Cyprus issue is a For example, MU ‘‘national cause’’ (milli dava) and the government should not make concessions . ¨ SIAD 2004: 10). on it (MU The only exception is the meeting organized by Ibrahim Gambari, deputy-UN General Secretary, in July 2006. One of the best-known events in this regard was a consensus decision at a meeting of the mainly Christian Democrat European People’s Party (EPP) in March 1997 that greatly upset Turkey. According to this declaration, ‘‘Turkey is not a candidate to become a member of the European Union, short- or long-term, because of the fundamental differences in the civilization of Turkey.’’ What shocked Turkey was that the leading EU politicians—including German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, Spanish Prime Minister Jose Maria Aznar and Italian Prime Minister Romano Prodi—attended the meeting. Although the decision did not refer directly to religion, it was understood by the Turkish public opinion that the EU was seen by many as a Christian club and that it would never allow Turkey into the EU because of its Muslim identity, something that had in fact long been argued by Islamically-oriented groups in Turkey. Although the EU foreign ministers reiterated that Turkey would be treated equally with other EU candidates in their meetings in Apeldoorn, the Netherlands, on 16 March, the stamp of the declaration of the Christian Democrats would never fully disappear. For example, more recently, Wolfgang Schu¨ssel, the prime minister of Austria, addressing the Austrian Parliament in June 2006, openly declared that Turkey would not become a member of the EU, like Hungary, even though the official purpose of integration is membership (Hu¨rriyet 2006c). Similarly, Jose´ Manuel Barroso, President of the Commission, stated in June 2006 that Turkey’s membership was very difficult because Turkey was not a European nation culturally (BBC News 2006) and it could be up to 20 years before Turkey joined (The Times 2006). We can also add Valery Giscard d’Estaing to the list. He often argues that Turkey’s membership would mean the end of the EU and refuses to accept. that Turkey possesses a European identity. ¨ SIAD, for example, as one of the most important conservative NGOs, critiMU cized the EU’s 2006 progress report and accused the EU of using double standards while the EU asks Turkey to broaden rights and freedoms. Accordingly, ‘‘while the EU asked more freedoms even for the Protestant Church in Diyarbakır and Jehovah Witnesses, it did not pay enough attention to the rights and freedoms of the conservative circles in Turkey.’’ Available online at: www.musiad. org.tr/ basinBultenleri/detay.asp?i = 208 (accessed 12 November 2006).

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29 For a critique of the ECtHR’s WP decision, see, Boyle (2004). 30 The most significant of these are as follows: The transformation of the NSC into an advisory body with civilian majority voting position and elimination of its executive powers; scrutiny of some expenses of the military; the end of emergency rule in the Southeast; lifting of the ban on the teaching of non-Turkish ethnic languages including Kurdish and allowing broadcasts in these languages; adoption of a new association law, civil code and a new press law; abolition of the death penalty; easing of the restrictions on the purchase of tangible assets by non-Muslim communities and on the opening of places of worship; broadening the rights of demonstration; substantial improvements concerning the elimination of torture and mistreatment of detainees; and abolishing of the State Security Courts (SSCs). 31 These criticisms exist officially in the progress reports and the Accession Partnership document, and are even contained in the Common Position Document that EU members prepared in order to open the substantive negotiations on the chapter of Science and Research in June 2006. 32 According to Turkey’s official position in this regard, minorities in Turkey consist exclusively of non-Muslim religious communities under the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne. Thus, according to this view, there is no Muslim minority in Turkey. 33 By ‘‘local counterparts’’ and ‘‘locally elected politicians,’’ the EU refers most probably to the mayors in the region from the party of the Democratic Society Party (DTP), which is often accused, by the military, of being a front organization of the PKK. 34 Furthermore, he also stated at the same place that ‘‘there is no Kurdish minority in Turkey. If you were to say it in this way, viruses would be active. My wife is from Siirt and I am from Rize. I was a candidate in Siirt and received 85 percent of votes.’’ Erdogan thinks that there are 27 ethnic groups in Turkey and ‘Tu¨rkiyelilik’ or ‘Tu¨rkiye vatandaslıgı’ (citizenship of Turkey) can serve as a good ‘u¨st kimlik’ (super identity) (Milliyet 2005b). 35 Chief of General Staff Gen. Bu¨yu¨kanıt accused the government of encouraging Islamic fundamentalism in Turkey on 2 October 2006 (Turkish Daily News 2006b) in his speech at the Military Academies Command in Istanbul. The day before, President Ahmet Necdet Sezer warned that Turkey faced a very serious . threat from rising Islamism. A few days before Bu¨yu¨kanıt’s speech, General Ilker Basbug, Chief of the Land Forces, defended the military’s role in politics to protect the secular character of Turkey (Guardian 2006).

References Akdogan, Y. (2004a) Kırk Yıllık Du¨s: Avrupa Birligi’nin Siyasal Gelecegi ve Tu¨rkiye, Istanbul: Alfa. ——(2004b) Muhafazakar Demokrasi, Istanbul: Alfa. AK Parti (2004) Kalkınma ve Demokratiklesme Programı, 7 May. Ayata, S. (2004) ‘Changes in Domestic Politics and the Foreign Policy Orientation of the AK Party’, in L. Martin and D. Kerides (eds) The Future of Turkish Foreign Policy, Cambridge: The MIT Press. Ayın Tarihi (1997) Available online at: www.byegm.gov.tr/YAYINLARIMIZ/AyinTarihi/1997/aralik1997.htm (accessed 2 June 2006).

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Baydur, R. (2000) Bizim C ¸ ete, n.p. BBC News (2006) ‘Europe’s leaders ponder EU future’. Available online at: http:// news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/5082124.stm (accessed 15 June 2006). . . Bora, T. (2002) ‘Milliyetc¸i-Muhafazakar ve Islamcı Du¨su¨nu¨ste .Negatif Batı Imgesi’, in U. Kocabasoglu (ed.) Modernlesme ve Batıcılık, Istanbul: Iletisim. Boyle, K. (2004) ‘Human Rights, Religion and Democracy: The Refah Party Case’, Essex Human Rights Review, 1: 1–16. Bulac¸, A. (1999) ‘Nic¸in AB?’, Zaman, 11 December 1999. Canefe, N. and Bora, T. (2003) ‘Intellectual Roots of Anti-European Sentiments in Turkish Politics: The Case of Nationalist-Conservative Tradition and Radical Turkish Nationalism, Turkey and European Union’, in A. C ¸ arkoglu and B. Rubin (eds) Turkey and European Union, London: Frank Cass. . C ¸ ayhan, E. (1997) Du¨nden Bugu¨ne Tu¨rkiye Avrupa Birligi Iliskileri ve Konuya Bakısı, Istanbul: Boyut Kitapları. C ¸ elik, O. (1999) ‘Halk, egemenligi yeniden tanımlıyor ve yeniden egemenlesiyor’, Yeni Safak, 13 December 1999. ——(2002) ‘Avrupa perspektifi ve Tu¨rkiye dinamigi’, Star, 14 December 2002. ¨ . (2003) ‘Demythologizing the National Security Concept: The Case of Cizre, U Turkey’, Middle East Journal, 57: 213–29. ——(2004) ‘Problems of Democratic Governance of Civil-Military Relations in Turkey and the European Union Enlargement Zone’, European Journal of Political Research, 43: 107–25. Dagı, I. (2004) ‘Rethinking Human Rights, Democracy, and the West: Post-Islamist Intellectuals in Turkey’, Critique: Critical Middle Eastern Studies, 13: 135–51. ——(2005) ‘Transformation of Islamic Political Identity in Turkey: Rethinking the West and Westernization’, Turkish Studies, 6: 167–86. Davutoglu, A. (2001) Stratejik Derinlik, Istanbul: Ku¨re yayınları. Dogan, E. (2005) ‘The Historical and Discoursive Roots of the Justice and Development Party’s EU Stance’,. Turkish Studies, .6: 421–37. Dogan, M. (2000) Batılasma Ihaneti, Istanbul: Iz Yayıncılık. Duran, B. (2005) ‘Islamist redefinition(s) of European and Islamic identities in Turkey’, in M. Ugur and N. Canefe (eds) Turkey and European Integration: Accession Prospects and Issues, London: Routledge. ——(2006) ‘The JDP and Foreign Policy as an Agent of Transformation’, in M.H. Yavuz (ed.) The Emergence of a New Turkey: Democracy and the AK Parti, Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. . . Ensaroglu, Y. (2000) ‘Insan Hakları Ac¸ısından AB-Tu¨rkiye Iliskileri’, Yeni Tu¨rkiye, 36: 604–12. Erbakan, N. (1971) Tu¨rkiye ve Ortak Pazar, Izmir: Furkan Yayınları. ——(1975) Milli Goru¨s, Istanbul: Dergah Yayınları. ——(1991) Tu¨rkiye’nin Temel Meseleleri, Ankara: Rehber Yayınları. Erdogan, R.T. (2004) ‘Onsoz’, Uluslararası Muhafazarlık ve Demokrasi Sempozyumu-UMDS 10–11 Ocak 2004, AK Parti Yayınları. Ergin, S. (2006) ‘AKP’nin AB Seru¨veninde Yeni Asama’, Hu¨rriyet, 28 December 2004. Eurobarometer (2006) ‘Eurobarometer 66 Public Opinion in the European Union, National Report: Turkey Fall 2006’. Available online at: http://ec.europa.eu/public_ opinion/archives/eb/eb66/eb66_tr_nat.pdf (accessed 18 July 2007). European Commission (2004) ‘Turkey: 2004 Progress Report’, Brussels, 6 October.

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——(2005) ‘Turkey: 2005 Progress Report’, Brussels, 9 November. ——(2006) ‘Turkey: 2006 Progress Report’, Brussels, 8 November. Financial Times (2006a) ‘Anti-western backlash is gathering pace, warns Turkish minister’, Financial Times, 20 July. Financial Times (2006b) ‘Turkey on track for a collision with the EU’, Financial Times, 1 November. Financial Times (2006c) ‘Divide and rue-how the barred problem of Cyprus is again a snag’, Financial Times, 16 October. Financial Times (2006d) ‘Leaders turning Turks against EU’, Financial Times, 5 October. Financial Times (2006e) ‘Patronising Turkey is a dangerous game for Europe’, Financial Times, 11 October. Guardian (2006) ‘General insists army has role in politics’, Guardian, 27 September. . Gu¨l, A. (2000) ‘Gec¸misten Gu¨nu¨mu¨ze Tu¨rkiye-AB Iliskileri’, Yeni Tu¨rkiye, 36: 63– 69. Hasan C. (2006) ‘Ekomide reforma devam! AB hedefinden vazgec¸me, Kuzey Irak’tan uzak dur!’, Milliyet, 28 June. ¨ yelik Tehlikeye Girer’, Hu¨rriyet, 16 Hu¨rriyet (2006a) ‘Limanları Ac¸mazsanız Tam U June. Hu¨rriyet (2006b) ‘Mu¨zakereler Durur’, Hu¨rriyet, 30 June. Hu¨rriyet (2006c) ‘Tu¨rkiye’ye ayrı bir statu¨ verilecek’, Hu¨rriyet, 24 June. Ilıcak, N. (1999) ‘Avrupa Birligi in; 28 Subat out’, Yeni Safak, 14 December. Independent (2006) ‘EU warns Turkey to let Cyprus use ports if it wants to join’, . The Independent, 17 October. Islamoglu, M. (1999) ‘Avrupa Birligi’nden Korkmuyorum ama. . . . ’, Akit, 13 December. Kabaklı, A. (2004) Ku¨ltu¨r Emperyalizmi, Istanbul: Tu¨rk Edebiyatı Vakfı. Kaplan, M. (1996) Ku¨ltu¨r ve Dil, Istanbul: Dergah. Karakoc¸, S. (2000) Dirilisin C ¸ evresinde, Istanbul: Dirilis Yayınları. . Kısaku¨rek, N.F. (1996) Ideolocya Orgu¨su¨, Istanbul: Bu¨yu¨k Dogu Yayınları. Kohen, S. (2006) ‘Dıs Politika yol ayrımında’, Milliyet, 22 July. Koru, F. (1997) ‘Ku¨c¸u¨k Kıyamet’, Zaman, 15 December. Kosebalaban, H. (2005) ‘The Impact of Globalization on Islamic Political identity’, World Affairs, 168: 27–37. Kuru, A. (2005) ‘Globalization and Diversification of Islamic Movements: Three Turkish Cases’, Political Science Quarterly, 120: 253–74. . Kutan, K. (2000) ‘Son Gelismeler Isıgında AB-Tu¨rkiye Iliskileri’, Yeni Tu¨rkiye, 36: 20–31. Mecham, R.Q. (2004) ‘From the ashes of virtue, a promise of light: the transformation of political Islam in Turkey’, Third World Quarterly, 25: 339–58. Meric¸, C. (1974) Umrandan Uygarlıga, Istanbul: Otu¨ken Yayınevi. Milli Gazete (1995) ‘Bu Pac¸avrayı Yırtar Atarız,’ Milli Gazete, 14 February. ——(2005a) ‘Kutan: Mu¨zakereler Askıya Alınmalı,’ Milli Gazete, 4 August. ——(2005b) ‘Erbakan Aldı; AKP Verdi’, Milli Gazete, 31 July. ——(2005c) ‘AB, Hıristiyan-Yahudi Oyunudur’, Milli Gazete, 26 June. ——(2005d) ‘Tu¨rkiye, AB Kolesi olmayacak c¸u¨nku¨ Saadet Partisi var’, Milli Gazete, 10 October. ——(2005e) ‘Avrupa Birligi, ic¸i bos bir balondur’, Milli Gazete, 20 December. Milliyet (2003) ‘Milli Goru¨s’u¨ Terk Ettiler’, Milliyet,17 May.

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. ——(2005a) ‘Batı Istismar Ediyor’, Milliyet, 12 April. ¨ st Kimlik Polemigi’, Milliyet, 23 November. ——(2005b) ‘U ——(2006) ‘AB’ye Destek Dibe Vurdu’, Milliyet 24 October. Misrahi, F. (2004) ‘The EU and the Civil Democratic Control of Armed Forces: an Analysis of Recent Developments in Turkey’, . . Perspectives, . 22: 22–42. ¨ SIAD (2004) AB Mu¨zakere Su¨recine Iliskin MU ¨ SIAD’ın Degerlendirme ve MU Onerileri (2), Mu¨siad Cep Kitapları, No.19. Nasr, S. (2005) ‘The Rise of ‘‘Muslim Democracy’’’, Journal of Democracy, 16: 95– 107. Oru¨cu¨, E. (2004) ‘Seven Packages Towards Harmonisation with the European Union’, European Public Law, 10: 603–21. ¨ zbudun, E and Yazıcı, S. (2004) Democratization Reforms in Turkey (1993–2004), O Istanbul: TESEV Publications. . ¨ c¸ Mesele: Teknik-Medeniyet-Yabancılasma, Istanbul: Sule. Ozel, I. (1996) U Pridham, G. (ed.) (1991) Encouraging Democracy: The International Context of Regime Transitions in Southern Europe, Leicester: Leicester University Press. ——(2002) ‘EU Enlargement and Consolidating Democracy in Post-Communist States-Formality and Reality’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 40: 953–73. Radikal (2004) ‘Basbakan: Ben Aleviyim,’, Radikal, 8 November. ——(2005) ‘Cemevi sosyal tesismis’, Radikal, 1 May. Saadet Partisi (2004) ‘Tu¨rkiye Nereye Su¨ru¨kleniyor? II. Sevre’e Hayır’, Available online at: www.sp.org.tr/download/2.sevrehayir.doc (accessed 10 June 2006). . Sabah (2004a) ‘C ¸ ic¸ek: Kurul Entel Isi’, Sabah, 6 November. ——(2004b) ‘Bakan Gu¨l’den Rapora Elestiri’, Sabah, 23 October. ¨ .C. (1997) ‘The Anatomy of the Turkish Military’s Autonomy’, ComSakallıoglu, U parative Politics, 29: 151–66. Schimmelfennig, F. and Sedelmeier, U. (2004) ‘Governance by conditionality: EU rule transfer to the candidate countries of Central and Eastern Europe’, Journal of European Public Policy, 11: 661–79. Schmitter, P. (1994) ‘The International Context of Contemporary Democratization’, Stanford Journal of International Affairs, 2: 1–34. Taniyici, S. (2003) ‘Transformation of Political Islam in Turkey: Islamist Welfare Party’s Pro-EU Turn’, Party Politics, 9: 463–483. TBMM Tutanak Dergisi (1999a) ‘Minutes of the Plenary Session’, 14 December 1999. Available online at: www.tbmm.gov.tr/tutanak/donem21/yil2/bas/b033m.htm (accessed 10 June 2006). ——(1999b) ‘Minutes of the Plenary Session’, 19 December 1999, Available online at: www.tbmm.gov.tr/tutanak/donem21/yil2/bas/b037m.htm (accessed 10 June 2006). Tepe, S. (2005) ‘Turkey’s AKP: A Model ‘‘Muslim-Democratic’’ Party?’, Journal of Democracy, 16: 69–82. Times (2006) ‘Turkey may be waiting at Europe’s door for 20 years’, Times, 16 October. Toprak, B. (1993) ‘Islamist Intellectuals: Revolt against Industry and Technology’, in M. Heper, A. Oncu¨ and H. Kramer (eds) Turkey and the West: Changing Political and Cultural Identities, London: I. B. Tauris. Turkish Daily News (2006a) ‘Turkey in dire straits with the European Union’, Turkish Daily News, 2 July. ——(2006b) ‘Military Joins in criticism of government policies’, Turkish Daily News, 3 October.

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Ugur, M. and Canefe, N. (eds) (2005) Turkey and European Integration: Accession Prospects and Issues, London: Routledge. Vachudova, M. (2005) Europe Undivided: Democracy, Leverage, Integration after Communism, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Washington Post (2006) ‘EU Warns Turkey on Cyprus Rift’, Washington Post, 17 June. Whitehead, L. (ed.) (1996) The International Dimensions of Democratization: Europe and the Americas, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Yavuz, H. (2000) ‘Cleansing Islam from the Public Sphere’, Journal of International Affairs, 54: 21–40. Yenigu¨n, C. (2004) Soguk Savas Sonrasında TBMM ve Dıs Politika, Ankara: Nobel. Zaman (1996) ‘Erbakan: Avrupa. Du¨smanı Degiliz’, Zaman, 6 January. ——(1997) ‘Avrupa Demokrasi Istiyor’, Zaman, 15 December. ——(2003) ‘Erdogan: Milli Goru¨su¨n Degil Demokrat Partinin Devamıyız’, Zaman, 17 May. ——(2005) ‘AB’de Tu¨rkiye’yi bolmeye yonelik tezler u¨retiliyor’, Zaman, 17 April. ——(2006) ‘AB Reformları devam Edecek Yeni Kanunlar Hazırlıyoruz’, Zaman, 15 July.

Part IV

Empirical data and the Justice and Development Party

8

The social bases of the Justice and Development Party Ertan Aydın and I_brahim Dalmıs

The Justice and Development Party (JDP) is often identified with the legacy of Islamist party politics; thus it is often treated as the continuation of the Milli Goru¨s (National Outlook Movement, henceforth NOM) parties. Yet, the electoral success of the JDP indicates that the party must have attracted a much wider electoral support than the legacy of the Welfare Party (WP) would allow. Moreover, the party leaders developed a discourse of political vision that is quite different than the National Outlook parties of the past. Thus, we must ask important questions about the identity and social background of the supporters of the JDP: What kind of social identity belonging to the electorate allowed the JDP to come to power in 2002? Is the basic social background of the electorate reflected in the profile of the JDP parliamentarians? This article will provide some answers regarding the appeal of the JDP by examining the social profile of the members of its provincial party organization, its electors, and its elected deputies. Based on extensive public opinion surveys and questionnaires, we suggest that, though the JDP rose out of the ashes of the Virtue Party (VP), the last party representing the National Outlook Movement, the legacy of the Motherland Party (MP) of Turgut Ozal is an equally powerful determinant in shaping the party and the support it continues to receive. Moreover, this article identifies a set of identity issues that shaped the success of the JDP in attracting the majority of center-right votes, and views some of the tensions and paradoxes of the JDP’s success within the framework of the tradition of Turkish right wing parties.

The Erdogan Factor It should be acknowledged that the current ruling party of Turkey, the JDP, has a short history but a long past. Although it was founded officially only in the second half of 2001, the founders of the JDP knew that the party would have a high level of voter support before they initiated the party formation procedures. A poll conducted and publicized by the Ankara Social Research Center (ANAR) in July 2000 found that if a general election were held on that day, 30.8% of the people surveyed would vote for the party to

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be founded by Tayyip Erdogan and his associates.1 ANAR’s results show that even before the JDP was founded it was destined to become the most popular party due to its association with the appeal and charisma of Recep Tayyip Erdogan. More importantly, there were no other significant political movements that could compete with a political movement identified with Tayyip Erdogan. Various polls showed that although Tayyip Erdogan had a high level of popularity, he could maximize his electoral support only if he led a party out of the ashes of the Virtue Party. During the formation period of the JDP, its leadership cadre could be grouped into two sub-groups. One group comprised Recep Tayyip Erdogan and his associates, who have been working together since Erdogan served as chairman of the Istanbul province of the Welfare Party beginning in 1985. The other group contained the reformist wing of the Virtue Party headed by Abdullah Gu¨l, Bu¨lent Arınc¸, and Abdullatif Sener, who served as ministers in the Welfare Party and deputies in the Virtue Party. Without doubt, the most significant personality in the JDP was Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Although the Turkish people became acquainted with him only when he was elected as the Mayor of Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality in 1994, he soon became one of the most well-liked politicians in Turkey. The reasons why he gained such popularity among voters require further study. It is important in this regard to note that in 1997 Erdogan stood trial before the Diyarbakır State Security Court for a poem he read in a demonstration in Siirt and was found guilty of ‘‘publicly provoking people to animosity and enmity based on religion and race.’’2 He was sentenced to four months in prison, but, more importantly, he lost is political right to stand for office. It might be argued that the ‘secular elite’ hoped to erase him from the political realm completely because of this trial. However, contrary to the expectations of the Turkish secular elite, Erdogan’s image improved in the eyes of his public as a man subjected to an unfair punishment for what he believed. When the reformist wing of the successor parties of the former Welfare Party detached itself from the traditionalists and started to form a new political party, Erdogan was seen as the natural leader of this movement. In the June 2001 Research on Turkey’s Agenda, when respondents were asked, ‘‘if the deputies of the closed-down Virtue Party were to establish a single party, who should be the chairman?’’ 40.8% answered Recep Tayyip Erdogan. More importantly, when the same question was analyzed in terms of those who voted for the Virtue Party in the April 18, 1999 general elections, the results were as follows: Recep Tayyip Erdogan 63.8%, Abdullah Gu¨l 12.4%, Bu¨lent Arınc¸ 12.4%, Necmettin Erbakan 6.4%, others 1.3%, and undecided 3.7%.3 That is, even Recai Kutan, as the leader of the Virtue Party, and Necmettin Erbakan, as the founder of the National Outlook movement, had much weaker credibility compared to Recep Tayyip Erdogan.

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Though Recep Tayyip Erdogan was automatically included in the reformist wing of the Virtue Party, just around the time when the distinctions between the reformist and the traditionalist wings became clear, Erdogan was banned from politics in 2000. For this reason, he never actively interfered with this struggle within the party. Instead, the revolt against Erbakan’s single man administration of the party was headed by Abdullah Gu¨l, and he became the candidate for chairman against Erbakan’s hand-picked candidate, Recai Kutan, in the 1st Ordinary Grand Congress of the Virtue Party in May 2000. After Kutan was re-elected as the chairman, all the prominent names of the reformist wing were eliminated from the party’s important positions. The fact that the Virtue Party was marginalized in politics after the May 2000 Congress, lends support to the thesis that what had made the Virtue Party one of the most powerful political parties in Turkey during 2000, to a large extent, were names that mainly belonging to the reformist wing.4 After the Virtue Party was closed down in 2001, while the traditionalists formed the Felicity Party, the reformists did not participate in this formation. Instead, they established their own party, the Justice and Development Party. The JDP was founded on the ashes of the Virtue Party, but the ideals of the party’s founders went beyond the legacy of the Virtue Party in terms of the founders’ commitment to being different from their predecessors and to expressing their differences. In this regard, as in any political party, the human capital of the JDP is also represented by its provincial organizations. Therefore, we now move onto an analysis of the research results of the JDP’s provincial organizations.

The Provincial Organizations The most comprehensive research on the JDP’s Provincial Organizations was conducted by the Pollmark Research Company (Pollmark) in 2005.5 One of the aims of this research was to understand the demographic, socioeconomic, and socio-political profile of the members. The research included interviews with the executive committee members of the party organizations in all provincial centers with populations of 20,000 and over. It included 432 provincial organizations, comprising 81 city organizations, 73 central town organizations, 58 town organizations within metropoles and 220 town organizations.6 Demographic Characteristics and Socio-economic Status of the Members of Provincial Organizations The Pollmark results reiterate the low standards in women’s participation in politics in Turkey and show that only 6.2 percent of the members of the provincial organizations are women. Since the results of the same inquiry for the other parties are not known, it is not possible to make a national

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comparison. Nevertheless, Pollmark finds a positive correlation between the development level of the area where the provincial organization is situated and the participation rate of women in the organization: while the percentage of women in the party organizations in the most developed areas was 10 percent, it was around 1.4 percent for the organizations in the least developed areas. When looking at the results from a broader ‘regional’ perspective, the density of women in the organization is highest in Istanbul (14.3 percent) and lowest in Central Anatolia with 2.5 percent. The predominant age structure of members was mainly middle-aged. The percentage of those members of the executive committees in the local branches between the ages of 36 and 45 was 37.4, and between age 46 and 55 was 24.4. In other words, more than half of the executive committee members were middle-aged. For this reason, the average age came out to be 42.1. Meanwhile, the percentage of younger groups was 26.1 and that of those older was 12.1. As part of social status, the percentage of married members was overwhelming (94.3), while the percentage of single members was a mere 4.8 and that of divorced or widowed ones was 0.8. Interestingly, the findings showed that the percentages of single (24.7) and divorcedwidowed women (5.2) were higher than those of single (20.6) and divorced men (0.5). The Pollmark survey substantiates the view that in Turkey, family life further hinders women’s participation in politics. When looking at the education level of the members, 20.6 percent had primary school education and 18.2 percent had secondary school education. As these two levels have been joined and have become ‘compulsory education’ since 1997, it is possible to state that the percentage of those with only the compulsory education level was 38.8. While those with high school education made up 33 percent, university graduates made up 25.4 percent, with only 2.9 percent having a post-graduate education. Overall, the distribution of education levels for the members of the executive committees of the local branches was not much higher than the general distribution for the same age population in the country. What explains the members’ slightly above average education levels is the lower rate of female participation—females have a statistically lower education level than males in Turkey—in the local levels compared to the general population. It should also be noted that as the development level of the provinces increases, the percentage of members having university and post-graduate education also rises (in the most developed areas 39.4 percent; in the least developed areas 7.5 percent). Another expected finding was that the education level of those in the city organizations was significantly higher than that of those in the central town organizations. Since the city and the central town organizations were formed in the same place, it seems that more qualified people were selected for the city organizations as they are considered to be the ‘windows’ of the party. The final findings about the educational backgrounds of the members were that the percentage of university and post-graduates was much higher among females than among males (44.2 and

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27.2 respectively). This reveals beyond doubt that there are extra hurdles for women’s entry into politics at all levels. Overall, the educational profile of the members of the JDP’s provincial organizations can be said to reflect and represent the general socio-economic structure of the country. Another indicator of personal socio-economic status is profession. The highest percentage of the members in the provincial organizations was engaged in trade and small-scale retailing (41), followed by professionals or self-employed persons (16.3). The total percentage of company owners/ partners and directors was 4.6. When this percentage is combined with those of professional and self-employed persons, the total number of members with high prestige professions was 20.9. Representation of working class was a total of 15.9 percent with qualified laborers constituting 5.4 percent and unqualified ones 10.5 percent. The total percentage of housewives, retirees, students and jobless people, that is, economically inactive persons, was 15.6. Although almost 35 percent of the country makes a living from agriculture and livestock, the percentage of farmers and fishermen was a meager 4.2. As was noted at the beginning of this paper, the JDP aimed to mark its distinction from its predecessors. The socio-economic profile we have analyzed so far seem to support its claim that all differences in terms of SES in the society were more or less represented in the provincial organizations. But actually, this claim was not related to either demographic or socio-economic characteristics. Instead, the founders of the party tried to unite people with similar political goals, even if they were diffused among other parties. Below, the extent to which the party accomplished this aim will be explored. The Political Background of the Members The JDP was a newly born party, but the majority of its founders had been members of and worked at various positions of other parties, especially the Virtue Party. Like the founders of the JDP, 41.1 percent of the provincial organizations’ members reported that they had worked for other parties before joining the JDP. In other words, the JDP was the first party for about 60 percent of its members. This might indicate that the JDP was seen as a fresh beginning for a large part of its organizations. When we examine the background of the members who worked for other parties before the JDP, it was seen that 38.7 percent worked for the Welfare Party, 16.1 percent for the Virtue Party, 15.5 percent for the Motherland Party, 8.7 percent for the True Path Party, and 6.4 percent for the Nationalist Action Party. Recalling that the Welfare Party was the predecessor of the Virtue Party, it is clear that, although a little more than half of the provincial organizations were from National Outlook origin, about 45 percent were from the other right-wing party origins. This demonstrates that the JDP achieved its claim that it opened the party to a wider variety of people to a considerable degree.

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Naturally, participation in politics is not restricted to being a member of or working for a party. Most people prefer to express their political choices by voting in elections. Since the mean age of the members was around 40 and the legal age of voting is 18 and over in Turkey, most of the members had seen all the elections held during the last 15 years. It was assumed that the members of the provincial organizations had voted for the JDP in the November 3, 2002 general election. During the 1990s, three general elections were held and these were the elections where central right politics started to lose power. Table 1 exhibits the parties members voted for in the previous three general elections. When the ruling party, the Motherland Party, was defeated in the 1989 local elections, an early general election was held on October 20, 1991. An important novelty of this election was that two right wing parties, the Nationalist Action Party (Milliyetc¸i C ¸ alısma Partisi) and the Reformist Democracy Party (Islahatc¸ı Demokrasi Partisi) established a coalition and entered the election under the banner of the Welfare Party. The coalition of these three nationalist-conservative parties was called a ‘Holy Alliance.’ Another important coalition was made between the main opposition party, Table 1 The parties the members had voted for before the JDP was founded. Date of general elections 1991 % Welfare Party / Virtue Party Motherland Party True Path Party Nationalist Action Party SDPP / RPPa Democratic Left Party PDP / DPPb Great Unity Party Other Not voted for any party Not eligible to vote at that date TOTAL

1

40.5 21.3 8.1 — 1.42 0.7 — — 0.1 16.3 11.6 100.0

1995 %

1999 %

48.0 16.23 8.4 6.8 0.9 0.8 0.2 — 0.2 15.0 3.5

55.9 10.6 6.3 9.4 0.9 1.0 0.2 0.9 0.4 13.8 0.6

100.0

100.0

a The Social Democrat People’s Party joined the Republican People’s Party in 1995 about ten months before the 1995 general election. b When the People’s Democracy Party was closed down by the Court of Constitution in 2003, the Democratic People’s Party was founded in its place. 1 In 1991, the Nationalist Work Party, the predecessor of the Nationalist Action Party, and the Reformist Democracy Party had entered the election under the banner of Welfare Party and this coalition had been called a ‘Holy Alliance.’ 2 In 1991, the People’s Labor Party (Halkın Emek Partisi), the predecessor of the People’s Democracy Party, entered the election in coalition with the Social Democrat People’s Party. 3 In 1995, the Great Union Party had entered the election under the banner of the Motherland Party.

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the Social Democrat People’s Party (Sosyal Demokrat Halkc¸ı Parti) and the People’s Labor Party (Halkın Emek Partisi), known for its pro-Kurdish nationalist thoughts and actions. About 41 percent of the JDP Provincial organization members voted for the Welfare Party in this election, while 21 percent voted for the Motherland Party. Although it was clear that the Welfare Party was on the rise and the Motherland Party was on the decline, the high ratio of those feeling closer to the Motherland Party is surprising. The percentage of those who voted for the other central right party, the True Path Party, was only 8.1. When it is remembered that the True Path Party was rising and became the victor of that election, the low ratio of the members supporting this party is also interesting. It seems that neither the leader of the True Path Party, Suleyman Demirel, nor his party had been very sympathetic to people having nationalist-conservative sensitivities. Instead, the Motherland Party seems to have been more successful in attracting this electoral base. While a large portion of people of Kurdish origin have been supporting the JDP, it is understood that they did not have pro-Kurdish nationalist sensibilities because the percentage of the members voting for the People’s Labor Party was only 1.4, despite entering the election in coalition with the second biggest party of the time, the Social Democrat People’s Party. The Welfare Party put its signature on the 1994 local elections, and achieved a shocking success. Apart from many other factors, this development also led the fragile True Path Party and the Social Democrat People’s Party coalition government to hold another early election on December 24, 1995. By this time, Turgut Ozal, the president of the time, had passed away; Suleyman Demirel had been elected as the President in his place; and the True Path Party was under the leadership of Tansu Ciller. Moreover, the president of the Social Democrat People’s Party, Erdal Inonu, had withdrawn from politics and his successor, Murat Karayalcın, agreed with Deniz Baykal, the president of Republican People’s Party, in uniting under the banner of the latter party for it was the party which had established the Republic of Turkey in 1923 under the leadership of Ataturk. After all this tumult, the Welfare Party came out as the victorious party from the elections. With close vote ratios, the Motherland Party and the True Path Party were the second and third parties respectively. The Republican People’s Party lost its high position and The Democratic Left Party emerged as the major party of the left. Consistent with the trends of the time, almost half of the JDP Provincial leadership (48 percent) reported that they voted for the Welfare Party in that election. Those who voted for the Motherland Party were the second biggest group, though Turgut Ozal had died and Mesut Yilmaz, the president of the party, had shown that the mission he posed for the party was quite different from his predecessor. The percentage of those who voted for the True Path Party was 8.4 and for the Nationalist Action Party was 6.8. These results demonstrate again that the basis of the JDP was never

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attracted to the leadership and slogans of the center right True Path Party, led for long years by the famous center-right politician Suleyman Demirel. Moreover, the relative strength of the Nationalist Action Party background (7 percent) among the JDP Provincial organizations shows that nationalist sensibilities were significant for the members of the provincial organizations. After the 1995 elections, the Welfare-True Path coalition (Refahyol) was overthrown by a ‘postmodern’ military intervention on February 28. The Welfare Party was closed down; its leader banned from politics; and a large campaign against all people in all realms having a connection with the Welfare Party was put into operation. The coalition government established by the Motherland Party and Democratic Left Party to replace the Refahyol government, however, also collapsed after the claims of impropriety against Mesut Yılmaz, the prime minister of the time, and some of his ministers and bureaucrats. The Democratic Left Party established a minority government with the support of the Motherland Party group and another early general election was held under the control of this government. The Democratic Left Party was the winner of the election. Surprisingly, the Nationalist Action Party was the second and the Virtue Party, the successor of the Welfare Party, was the third with close vote rate difference. The Motherland and True Path parties managed to obtain enough votes to establish a group in the Parliament, but they were no longer the two biggest parties in right wing politics. As for the Republican People’s Party, its vote rate was so low that it could not even pass the national threshold of 10 percent and enter Parliament. In the 1999 general elections, about 56 percent of the members of the JDP’s provincial organizations voted for the Virtue Party. Interestingly, the percentage of those who voted for the Motherland Party was still high, though Mesut Yılmaz, the leader of the Motherland Party, played a key role in the February 28 process against a conservative public. This result shows that people from a Motherland Party origin were relatively influential in shaping the mentality and structure of the JDP’s provincial organizations. Though the Nationalist Action Party was the rising star of this election in right wing politics, the percentage of those who voted for this party was lower than 10 percent. It seems that the JDP’s mission to embrace all ethnic varieties, especially Kurds, in the country prevented people with non-inclusive narrow nationalist visions from taking or giving responsibility in the formation of the JDP. Although the True Path Party had established very close connections with the conservative masses from 1996 to 1999, it was still the least represented right wing group among the members of the JDP. To summarize, an evolving discourse of the Welfare Party or Virtue Party was dominant in the provincial organizations of the JDP. By evolving, it is meant that all experiences to which the Welfare and Virtue parties had been exposed during 1990s resulted in remarkable changes in the mentality of both the party administrators and the supporters. As the party attracted a considerable portion of society, the administrators had to change some of

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the basic, yet extreme, elements in their outlook, and this change in mentality, in turn, attracted more people with more diverse expectations. The experience of the February 28 process showed that the existing cadre was so united with the traditional discourse that they could not escape from some of their reflexes of which the society at large did not approve; thus this cadre was not recognized as legitimate partners by the so-called established institutions of the state. The experience of the Virtue Party became the period in which political actors began to reflect on how to overcome this dilemma. First, a political discourse akin to the early Motherland Party period was increasingly developed and imposed on the whole party, while other projects, which belonged completely to the Welfare period, like the idea of just order (adil du¨zen), were gradually abandoned. With the help of the conjuncture, the traditional figures of the party did not oppose this change. However, when the reformist group, the architect of this change, tried to discharge this traditionalist group from the administration of the party de facto, the traditionalist group began to act and burn their bridges with the reformists. The Virtue Party was actually divided into two before the Constitutional Court closed it down, but since this shut-down happened almost simultaneously with the division under consideration, it did not cause chaos either within the party or its supporters. The traditionalists who suffered a loss from the change formed the Felicity Party with their supporters in a minority position and regressed back to their discourse of the 1970s and 1980s. The reformists, however, who had more ties with the mentality of the Motherland Party of the 1980s than the Welfare Party of the time, found a fresh ground to put their program into practice; and, as it was noted, their political program was not different from the vision that the Motherland Party tried to create under the leadership of Turgut Ozal. For this reason, the abundance of the former Motherland Party members either in origin or by sympathizers in the provincial organizations was congruent with the vision of the leader cadre. To support the above argument, an interesting finding from the same research should be mentioned. The members were asked to indicate the degree of their attitudes toward a list of political leaders. In the list, there were fourteen names and the answers were received on a five-point Likert type scale (1 very negative – 5 very positive). Unsurprisingly, the members had the most positive attitude toward Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the founder of the party (mean = 4.81). Surprisingly, Turgut Ozal, the founder of the Motherland Party, was the second (mean = 3.99) and Adnan Menderes, the leader of the centerl right in the 1950s, was the third (mean = 3.78) most popular. In fact, apart from these three names, the members rated no other name in the list, including Necmettin Erbakan, favorably. Their attitudes towards Erbakan and Alparslan Tu¨rkes, the founder of the Nationalist Action Party, were somewhere in the middle between positive and negative. In other words, the members perceived such names as Ozal and Menderes, who were not of National Outlook origin and who represented center politics,

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closer to their current political party than such ideological figures such as Erbakan and Tu¨rkes. Moreover, when the same ratings were subjected to Principal Component Analysis with varimax rotation, the ratings were grouped on four factors.7 The first factor included ratings related to Turgut Ozal, Adnan Menderes and Recep Tayyip Erdogan. This meant that the members implicitly perceived their leader similar to Ozal and Menderes. However, Necmettin Erbakan was grouped under another factor, indicating that the members did not see their leader as similar to Erbakan. To be sure, Erbakan had a different place in the eyes of the members, and, for this reason, no other figure was grouped under the factor which included Erbakan. Alparslan Tu¨rkes, Devlet Bahc¸eli, the former and present leaders of the Nationalist Action Party, and Mehmet Agar, the leader of the True Path Party, were grouped under the same factor. This grouping was also not surprising since these three leaders were differentiated from others by their emphasis on nationalist sentiments. All the rest of the leaders were grouped under the same factor. In this group were Ismet Inonu, one of the founders of both the Republic and Republican People’s Party; Bulent Ecevit, the chairman of the Republican People’s Party after Inonu and the founder of the Democratic Left Party; Deniz Baykal, the chairman of the Republican People’s Party; Ahmet Necdet Sezer, the current President of Turkey; Suleyman Demirel, the founder of both the Justice Party and the True Path Party and the President of Turkey after Ozal; Erkan Mumcu, the leader of the Motherland Party and ex-minister of the JDP government; and Tuncer Bakırhan, the chairman of the Democratic People’s Party. As can be seen, Suleyman Demirel had nothing to offer that was different from the other politicians in the eyes of the members, and the members’ attitudes, as they related to him, were quite negative (mean = 2.27). This was also consistent with the observation that the True Path Party made the least contribution to the establishment of the JDP in terms of human resources. The Socio-Political Identities of the Members Earlier, it was noted that the JDP’s mission was to unite all people who had similar political visions though they were dispersed in different parties. Until now, the similarity of the members has been analyzed from the perspective of being a previous supporter of a party. This similarity can now be analyzed in terms of social and political identities. The members were given a list of nine socio-political identities and asked to indicate the degree to which each of these identities were suitable to define themselves. These identities were: democrat, conservative, Islamist, nationalist, secular, liberal, Kemalist, social democrat, and feminist. The responses were evaluated on a five-point Likert type scale (1 not suitable at all – 5 very suitable). The results showed that the members found four of these socio-political identities very suitable to define themselves. These were

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democrat, conservative, Islamist, and nationalist (means ranged between 3.91 and 3.76). Apart from these identities, the average attendant tended to recognize secular as an identity suitable to him/her but the mean was relatively smaller (3.31). A hierarchical cluster analysis also revealed that the four identities, namely democrat, conservative, Islamist and nationalist, were most suitably clustered together in a coherent structure. Related to such a description, the members were given an 11-point scale on which 1–2 referred to the ‘‘left,’’ 3–4 referred to ‘‘left of the center,’’ 5–7 referred to the ‘‘center,’’ 8–9 referred to ‘‘right of the center,’’ and 10–11 referred to the ‘right.’ They were asked to indicate at which point of the political spectrum they saw themselves. Figure 1 reveals the distribution the responses. As can be seen, only 1.1 percent of the members located themselves on the left side of the spectrum. When the possible errors inherent in the method and the questionnaire are taken into consideration, it can be said that this might be a swollen ratio indicating that there was consensus among the members that they were not leftist. The percentage of those who saw themselves as neither left nor right was quite high (38). Having seen that most of these members recognized such identities as nationalist and conservative as suitable to define themselves, it might be surprising that these members did not call themselves rightists. Necmettin Erbakan and his associates had carried on the propaganda that they were neither rightist nor leftist but Muslims for years from the late 1960s to the early 1990s, and thus

Figure 1

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it seems that a good portion of the members could not rid themselves of the effect of this discourse. In spite of this propaganda, about 42 percent of the members saw themselves at the right end of the spectrum while about 19 percent positioned themselves at the right of the center. Thus, it can be deduced that almost all of the members of the JDP’s provincial organizations agreed that their social identities corresponded greatly with right-wing politics. Thus far, the social and political characteristics of both the leading cadre and the members of the provincial organizations have been overviewed. The JDP had no time to deal with its internal organization as, just a little more than a year after it was established, it had to run in the November 3, 2002 general election, and the party appeared in front of voters with these central and peripheral cadres. The response of the voters to these cadres was quite positive, perhaps unique in the history of Turkish general elections. Thus, who voted for the JDP and to what extent the characteristics of these voters corresponded to those of the cadres of the party might be interesting.

Supporters of the JDP in November 2002 Elections In the process of February 28, the Welfare Party (WP) was closed down in accordance with the judgment of the Constitutional Court—Turkey’s highest court—for violating the principles of the state in January 1998. Its principal leaders, including Necmettin Erbakan and Sevket Kazan, were banned from politics for five years. When the WP was closed down, the cadre was united under the Virtue Party (VP). Nevertheless, a poll conducted right after the April 18, 1999 General Election showed that of those who voted for the WP in the 1995 General Election, only 59.2 percent preferred to vote for the VP in the 1999 General Election.8 While about 10 percent did not cast their votes for any party, 26.9 percent preferred to vote for another rightist party, especially the Nationalist Action Party (NAP) (10.9 percent). The NAP was the rising star of that election, attracting 12.9 percent of the voters from the Motherland Party (MP), 11.6 percent of the voters from the TPP, 3.2 percent of the voters from the DP, 1.4 percent from the RPP, and 13.5 percent of the voters from those who had not voted in the 1995 General Election. Moreover, an important amount of voter transition between the MP and the True Path Party (TPP) was observed. While 13.9 percent of the TPP voters in 1995 voted for the MP in 1999, the percentage of those leaving the MP for the TPP was 9 percent. In other words, before the November 3, 2002 elections, there had been important voter transitions between right wing parties. In a poll conducted just before the November 3, 2002 General Election, it was found that 69.1 percent of the VP voters, 42.2 percent of the NAP voters, 29 percent of the MP voters, 23.1 percent of the TPP voters, and 17.8 percent of the DLP voters in 1999 preferred to vote for the JDP in 2002.

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The percentage of voters coming from other parties was small but of those who did not cast a vote in 1999, 24.5 percent voted for the JDP. In other words, the JDP gained votes from all right wing parties in the 2002 General Election. When looking at the composition of the JDP’s voters, 26.8 percent came from the VP, 19.1 percent came from the NAP, 9.8 percent came from the DLP, 9.6 percent came from the MP, 6.9 percent came from the TPP, 3.8 percent came from the other parties, and 24 percent came from those who had not voted in 1999. This composition indicates that the JDP made a wide opening and could not be taken as merely the follower of the VP.9 In the same poll, respondents were given a list of characteristics which could be termed as socio-political identities common in Turkish society and were asked to indicate which of these characteristics they found suitable to define themselves. It was found that the characteristics that differentiated the JDP supporters most from the supporters of other parties were the characteristics of religion, conservatism, Islamism, and being right-wing (see Table 2). In addition, they were higher in the characteristics of Muslim, nationalist, and ulkucu (idealist).10 In 2002, support for the JDP came from people with nationalist and conservative sensitivities. As for their socio-economic status, their distribution seems to have reflected the total population. While the percentage of supporters with low education was about 60, those with middle education were about 30 percent. Only about 10 percent of supporters had high education.11 When compared to the supporters of the RPP, the main opposition party, the education level of the JDP supporters seems quite low. The same percentages for the RPP’s supporters were 37.3, 40.1, and 22.6, respectively. This

Table 2 The JDP and other parties’ November 3 2002 supporters found the following characteristics suitable to define themselves with.

Religious Islamist Rightist Conservative Muslim Nationalist Ulkucu Liberal Republican Democrat Ataturkist Laik Socialist Kemalist Leftist

The JDP %

Other %

Difference %

75.6 65.4 58.0 61.9 96.8 76.5 21.5 30.1 69.5 72.5 72.0 66.7 14.6 25.1 5.3

41.4 36.7 31.3 41.4 87.7 67.6 17.0 32.5 78.8 82.2 82.3 82.2 35.3 48.7 31.4

34.2 28.4 26.7 20.5 9.1 8.9 4.5 -2.4 -9.3 -9.7 -10.3 -15.5 -20.7 -23.6 -26.1

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confirms the well-established argument that the nationalist-conservative voters have had a low profile relative to the secular-leftist voters.

The JDP Deputies in the Parliament In the General Election of November 3, 2002, the JDP received 34.3 percent of the valid ballots and won 363 of the 550 chairs in Parliament. Sometime later, some of these chairs were lost due to separations and deaths and dropped to 356. In this section, the results of a questionnaire study conducted on 212 JDP deputies in November–December 2003 will be discussed. When looking at the demographic characteristics of the JDP deputies, the domination of males in the parliament was clear. While 93.9 percent of the deputies were male, the percentage of females was just 6.1. Since the minimum age required to be a deputy is 30,12 the age distribution of the JDP deputies was dominated by middle and old age groups. The percentage of deputies between age 30 and 40 was 24.1, between age 41 and 50 was 49 percent, and above age 50 was 26.9 percent. Finally, most of these deputies were married (98.1 percent). The percentage of single deputies was 1.4 and those divorced or widowed was 0.5 percent. The average socio-economic status (SES) of deputies seemed quite high. The percentage of university graduates was 61.3 and 24.5 percent had postgraduate education. The percentage of those who were not university graduates was just 14.1. About 27 percent of the deputies reported that they were self-employed professionals and another 27 percent were employed professionals. In other words, more than half of the deputies were professionals working as doctors, lawyers, etc. About 20 percent were high or medium level managers. Only about 11 percent were small scale retailers or tradesmen. The percentage of farmers was only 1.4. In short, the distribution of both education and profession of the deputies was quite high, indicating that most of them had high personal SES. As seen, the gender composition of the deputies was dominated by males. When looking at the education of these deputies’ spouses, 23.1 percent had primary school education, 10 percent had secondary school education, 34.1 percent had high school education, and finally 32.6 percent had university education. Since most of the deputies had university education, the level of their spouses’ education was lower in general. This might hint that the present family SES of the deputies was not as high as their personal SES. The percentage of deputies and their spouses that both had university education was 31.1. Consistently, when looking at the profession of the deputies’ spouses, most of them were housewives (66 percent). The percentage of professionals among the deputies’ spouses was 11.9. There were almost no directors either at the top or medium level. Although the deputies had high personal SES, they could not reach the same level in their present families.

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To complicate the picture, SES indicators of the deputies’ parents were also examined. The percentage of deputies whose fathers had university or higher education was 7.3, and those whose mothers had university or higher education was 1 percent. In other words, the ratio of parents who had the same level education as their child was quite low. The percentage of parents having high school education was also very low (9.9% for fathers, 5.1% for mothers). Table 3 shows the comparative education levels of the deputies, their spouses, fathers, and mothers. This table shows that although the deputies came from low and middle SES families, their social mobilization proved to be high. Nevertheless, with lower SES spouses, their present families’ SES level was not very high. In fact, as will soon be seen, the present supporters of the JDP belong overwhelmingly to low and lower-middle SES groups, providing evidence that the JDP’s support base lies in the peripheral elements of society. This table hints that the deputies also came from this level of society. An interesting note that supports the above conclusion is that only 44.5 percent of the deputies spent most of their childhood in a city. Those remaining (more than half) were raised in a village, the countryside, or a town. When it is thought that the migration to cities started in 1950s, the finding that most of the JDP deputies were of peripheral background is thought-provoking. The ethnic backgrounds of deputies were examined by the question ‘‘Which of the following languages are known as mother tongue in your family circle?’’ While this question does not exactly indicate one’s ethnic origin, asking questions related to ethnicity in a survey in Turkey, especially in a state organization like the Parliament, is not easy. For this reason, such a complicated question was formulated.13 The results showed that 74.1 percent of those surveyed spoke only Turkish as their mother tongue. The percentage of families who had Kurdish as their mother tongue was 14.6. This ratio was slightly higher than the ratio found with the same question in the surveys conducted with the general public. The other ethnic origins and their percentages in the Parliament were as follows: Caucasian 2.4 percent, Arab 2.4 percent, Georgian 1.4 percent, Greek 0.9 percent, Bosnian 0.9 percent, Zaza 0.5 percent, Laz 0.5 percent, and Other 2.4 percent. In general,

Table 3 Comparative education levels of the deputies, their spouses, fathers, and mothers. Deputies % Primary school Secondary school High school University Post-graduate TOTAL

Spouses %

Fathers %

Mothers %

1.4 2.8 9.9 61.3 24.5

23.1 10.1 34.2 27.1 5.5

71.7 11.0 9.9 6.3 1.0

87.2 6.4 5.1 1.0 0.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

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the ethnic origin of the JDP deputies reflected the distribution of Turkish population. The Political Background of the JDP Deputies Most of the JDP deputies were involved in politics before they were elected to Parliament. It was observed that 29.7 percent had been the president of their provincial organization and 13.4 percent had been members in their provincial organizations. Moreover, 6.4 percent had been members in the party’s headquarters. In other words, almost half of the deputies had been actively working in the JDP before they entered Parliament. This means that the other half had not been working for the party formally, but they were close to the party intellectually. Since the political activism of deputies exceeded the life of the party, the deputies were asked to tell to which political party, identity or movement they had felt close to when they first started to deal with politics. The responses indicated that most of them were from the National Outlook background. About 24 percent responded with the WP, about 12 percent responded with the National Salvation Party (NSP: Milli Selamet Partisi), and about 8 percent responded with the VP. The preference of these parties was related very closely to the age of the deputies. After these parties, about 11 percent responded with the MP, 5.7 percent responded with the Justice Party (JP: Adalet Partisi), and 4.7 percent responded with the TPP. The percentage of those who had felt close to the NAP was just 6.2. The weight of people who supported the center-right wing in the provincial organizations was pointed to earlier. In comparison to this group, the percentage of those with the NAP was also lower. In this regard, neither the members in the provincial organizations nor the deputies reflected the distribution of the JDP supporters in the general public. This is most evident when the parties voted for in the April 18, 1999 general elections are compared. See Table 4. The over-representation of people with a VP background and the underrepresentation of people with an NAP background among the deputies is clear. At first sight, it is seen that the JDP failed to carry the same proportion of Table 4 The parties voted for in the April 18 1999 general election by the supporters, members of the provincial organizations, and the deputies Supporters % Virtue Party Nationalist Action Party Motherland Party True Path Party Other Not voted for any party TOTAL

Attendants %

Deputies %

26.8 19.1 9.6 6.9 13.6 24.0

55.9 9.4 10.6 6.3 3.4 14.4

73.5 6.1 5.0 6.6 4.0 5.0

100.0

100.0

100.0

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varieties it caught among the general public into the parliament. Nevertheless, supporting different parties at a specific point in time might not indicate that the deputies and members of provincial organizations were different from the populace supporting them. Likewise, when the sociopolitical identities favored by the deputies were examined, it was seen that they shared similar identities as their supporters. The identities and the percentage of deputies who found them as suitable to define themselves were as follows: Democrat 83.5, Muslim 81.2, conservative 76.9, religious 65.6, Republican 64.6, nationalist 52.3, liberal 49.5, secular 47.2, Ataturkist 46.2, Islamist 42.5, rightist 34.9, Kemalist 12.2, social democrat 12.3, ulkucu (idealist) 8.1, feminist 2.4, leftist 0.9, and socialist 1.4. This distribution deviated from the relevant distribution of the general public, but these deviations will be pointed out in the last section of this paper. As a final note, 94.8 percent of the deputies indicated that they found Recep Tayyip Erdogan to be positive. The percentages of deputies finding Turgut Ozal and Adnan Menderes to be positive were 87.2 and 81.6, respectively. Interestingly, the percentage of deputies finding Necmettin Erbakan to be positive was just 21.2. As for the other prominent the percentage of deputies . leaders, . finding each of these figures including Ismet Inonu¨ and Alparslan Tu¨rkes to be positive was lower. It was seen that the places of Turgut Ozal and Adnan Menderes in the eyes of the JDP cadres were very high. This finding related to the perception of the deputies provides one more piece of support to the above conclusion that the JDP was a continuation of the tradition started by the Menderes’ DP, which was carried through Turgut Ozal’s MP. Formation of the JDP organizations seems to have disappointed some of the supporters carrying certain expectations of Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Likewise, the formation of the JDP group in the Parliament, and especially the performance of the JDP government, might also create disappointment among the supporters. It is possible to propose an opposite argument that the JDP group in the Parliament and the performance of government might persuade like-minded others to support the party although they did not vote for JDP in the General Election. In other words, the socio-political and political background of the JDP supporters might have changed since the November 3, 2002 elections. The next section analyzes the characteristics of the JDP’s present supporters.

Supporters of the JDP after the November 2002 Elections More than four years have passed since the JDP came into power. When the JDP established a single party government, the support for the party rose. When this was combined with the party leaders’ enthusiastic initiative for membership in the European Community, the support for the JDP rose to 40 percent before the beginning of 2003.14 Nevertheless, the party’s policies related to both the Iraq and Cyprus crises just after 2003 did not receive the same support from the general public, especially from the nationalist-conservative

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base. This is why the party’s support dropped to 25 to 30 percent from February to July 2003. Toward the end of year, new arrangements related to Turkey’s membership with the European Community, and the operations against the business corruption scandal of the Uzan Group, increased the voter support of the party which rose steadily again to about 40 percent in December 2003. The JDP achieved its peak in voter support in 2004. Positive developments in the areas of economy and the European Community membership, and the absence of any considerable rival in the right-wing politics enabled the party to attract about 35 to 40 percent of the voters. At the beginning of 2005, voter support of the JDP was above 40 percent. Nevertheless, in February and March, economic indicators started to deteriorate and the support for the JDP government started to decline. From April to the end of 2005, support for the party remained stable at around 30 percent. However, negative developments in economics became more salient in May 2006, especially after the ‘hazelnut crisis’ in the summer; the party’s voter support had decreased to below 25 percent by the autumn. In other words, voter support of the JDP exhibited conjectural changes, and for the time being, it is difficult to determine the party’s loyal supporters. Nevertheless, to shed some light on the characteristics of the JDP voters, one recent study will be discussed. Socio-economic and Socio-political Characteristics of the JDP Supporters March 2006, Pollmark’s Research on Turkey’s Agenda shows that the main characteristics of the JDP supporters in Turkish society have not changed much in the more than three years of JDP government in Turkey. When looking at education as the most important indicator of SES, 63.4 percent of JDP supporters had low education (below secondary school), 26.9 percent had medium education (high school), and 9.7 percent had high education (university and higher). The same numbers for the supporters of other parties were 46.8, 36.3, and 17, respectively. When these percentages are compared, it can easily be seen that the JDP supporters have a lower education level in comparison with the supporters of other parties. When looking at the professional distribution, the second indicator of SES, the percentage of JDP supporters having prestigious professions was 1.9, those working medium or low level jobs were 42.8 percent, and those economically inactive (housewives, retirees, students, etc.) were 55.3 percent. Respective numbers for the supporters of other parties were 4.5, 47.1, and 48.4 percent. Once again, it was seen that JDP supporters had a lower profile in terms of professions when compared with the supporters of other parties. These findings indicate that the JDP favored a greater portion of the society than each of the other parties, but this portion seemed to have a quite low profile. When looking at the socio-political identities people found suitable to define themselves with, the identities that best differentiated JDP supporters from the supporters of other parties were religious, rightist, and conservative. To

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Table 5 The JDP and other parties’ present supporters found the following characteristics suitable to define themselves with.

Religious Rightist Conservative Nationalist Ulkucu Laik Kemalist Socialist Social democrat Leftist

The JDP %

Other %

Difference %

91.3 54.5 66.8 75.6 12.0 66.9 45.8 6.8 14.8 3.7

58.1 26.6 41.9 64.8 16.2 76.9 63.1 29.2 41.5 31.0

33.2 27.9 24.9 10.8 -4.2 -10.0 -17.3 -22.4 -26.7 -27.3

some extent, the identity of nationalist still seemed to be dominant among JDP supporters. Table 5 shows the percentages of JDP supporters and the supporters of other parties that find each socio-political identity suitable to define themselves with. When Table 5 is compared with Table 2, which indicates similar finding about the supporters of JDP in the November 2002 general elections, the characteristics of JDP supporters did not change remarkably. The religious, rightist, and conservative characteristics remained the three identities best differentiating JDP supporters from the rest. Similarly, the characteristics of being Kemalist, socialist, and leftist remained the three identities best negatively differentiating the JDP supporters from the rest. Besides, while the percentage of those accepting the identities of religious and conservative rose, those accepting the identity of rightists dropped a little. Moreover, those accepting the ulkucu identity among the JDP supporters dropped remarkably, while those accepting the Kemalist identity increased. It seems that the JDP started to lose the sympathy of a specific nationalist group, and its support base began to feel closer to the official ideology of the Turkish Republic. Apart from this, no other significant change seemed to have happened to JDP supporters.

Conclusion Before the establishment of the JDP, the image of the leadership cadre, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Abdullah Gu¨l, Bu¨lent Arınc¸ and some others, was so positive that in the event that this cadre would set up a political party, the percentage of the people that would support that party was 30.8. However, political parties are social institutions also formed by people other than the leaders. Paradoxically, as the JDP broadened its organizational cadres, the leaders lost about ten points from their original images.15 It seems that the vision and discourse of the leadership cadre before they established the JDP

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had caused people to perceive a certain identity for the party. Consistent with this identity, people seemed to impose a particular vision and mission upon this leadership cadre. However, when the party was formed and this ambiguity started to solidify, people’s faith in the cadres began to fade away, as they withdrew their direct support to the party. It is clear that the JDP’s identity was based on the leadership cadre. As for the other members, they had little, if any, prevalent image within the society. To a large extent, both the headquarters and provincial organizations were formed by rapid congregations of people that were supposed to be unified within the vision of the leadership cadre. It can be argued that the leadership cadre was also aware of this problem and thought they could unify the party’s image as time went on. However, they could not find an opportunity to do so, for they came into power only fourteen months after the party was formed. Thus, the political identity of the JDP is still in the making. When political affiliations are put aside, the empirical evidence in this chapter sheds some light on the question of which social strata supported the JDP. Firstly, the JDP was perceived as ‘hope’ by the lower strata of society. However, the members had somewhat higher SES than people supporting the JDP in general. In this way, the party’s representatives in the provinces were, at least, not different from the distribution of people in general and were able to establish communication channels with the strata outside the JDP. A higher SES level was also observed among the deputies. It seems that the candidates who had the best SES profile were generally elected for the parliament. The profiles of JDP deputies were clearly above society, but this was true only when the personal SES was concerned. The deputies generally came from families not above the general distribution of society. In other words, deputies were the elites of society, but they were not elites by family ties. Instead, they exhibited high personal social mobility and became the representatives of the party, friends, and supporters in their provinces. Where the former party affiliations were concerned, the JDP failed to inject the desired variety among its supporters, organizations and party group in the parliament. While it attracted people from all origins in right wing politics, its provincial organizations and deputies were filled with people from National Outlook origin. That is not to say that it did not also attract the voter bases of the MP and the TPP. In other words, the JDP was not the follower of a certain party but a mixture of the right-wing politics. However, as has been seen, neither its central nor peripheral cadres could reflect these varieties evenly. This leads to incompatibilities between the actions of party and the expectations of supporters at large. In the mid-1980s, the established institutions of the state had opposed and resisted the innovations introduced by the MP too. The JDP seems to be the follower of the MP, rather than the Islamist WP and the VP of the 1990s, but the dominance of the cadres with National Outlook origins seem to steer the

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party toward being more conservative. This might be one of the potential causes of occasional disharmony between the party’s discourse and praxis. Since the establishment of the Republic, some identities, such as being secular and Kemalist, have provided the powerful state elite with discursive superiority. The JDP supporters have adopted these identities to some extent, but their level of adoption is still below the average level of other identities, such as being a Muslim, nationalist, and conservative. Therefore, the JDP’s support base is distinct in that it consists of more peripheral identities like being religious, conservative, Islamist than that of the other parties. Though the party attempted to impose an identity called ‘conservative democrat’ upon its supporters, in the long run, the JDP is forced to incorporate all these identities into a coherent unity by resolving the incompatibilities existing among some of them.

Notes 1 According to this research, the percentage of people supporting none of the existing parties was 29.1 and the percentage of those yet undecided was 8.4. The party to be founded by Tayyip Erdogan and his associates was at the top of the list and the Republican People’s Party came second with only 5.8 percent. The voter support of all the other parties was below 5 percent. 2 The conviction was made in accordance with Article 312 of Turkish Penal Law, which became a focus of controversy in the process of Turkish entry into the European Union. 3 This is the result of the ANAR’s, June 2001 Research on Turkey’s Agenda, p.15. 4 It was a well-known fact that the reformists headed by Abdullah Gu¨l were much more sympathetic to the public in general than the traditionalists headed by Recai Kutan. In other words, both the general public and the supporters of the party were feeling closer to the reformist wing. When reformists were discarded, the appeal of the party was lost for many of its voters. 5 We would like to thank Hayati Yazıcı, the vice President of the JDP responsible for the provincial organizations, for permitting the use of the data in this article, and Murat Karan, the director of Pollmark Research Company, for his collaboration. 6 Overall, the survey poll was made with 12,235 members of the executive committees of the provincial organizations based on a questionnaire consisting of 165 open and close-ended questions. It was filled out by the members themselves just before the committee held one of its ordinary meetings. 7 These factors explained a large portion of the variance, and scale reliabilities of the emergent factors were quite high. For simplicity, we have omitted the technical details. 8 This poll was conducted on 3132 people in 20 cities in seven geographic regions of Turkey using face-to-face interviews. See ANAR, 18 Nisan Sonrası Siyasi Durum Arastırması [Political Condition After April 18], Ankara, Ankara Social Research Center, 1999. 9 This poll was conducted on 4080 people in 20 cities in seven geographic regions of Turkey using face-to-face interviews. See ANAR, Ekim 2002 Siyasi Durum Arastırması [October 2002 Political Condition Research], Ankara, Ankara Social Research Center, 2002. 10 This is a particular name given to the youth branch of the NAP.

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11 People who have education of secondary school and lower are considered to have ‘low education;’ people who have high school education are taken as representing ‘middle education;’ people who have university and post-graduate education are regarded as having ‘high education.’ This was noted in an earlier section in the main text of the paper. 12 In the process of writing this chapter, the age requirement was dropped to 25. 13 This study was supposed to embrace the deputies in the RPP, too. Yet the RPP group protested against the study due to a question related to socio-political identities. 14 The numbers given in this section belong to Research on Turkish Agenda made by Pollmark Research. This research is conducted periodically once every two months. A sample size of about 3000 is drawn from the most representative city of each of 12 regions according to the NUTS-1 classification system. Finally, face-to-face interviews are used along with a structured questionnaire to collect the data. 15 In a survey conducted just after the JDP was established, voter support of the JDP dropped to 23.8 percent. See ANAR, Ag˘ustos 2001 Tu¨rkiye Gu¨ndemi Arastırması [August 2001 Turkey’s Agenda Research], Ankara, Ankara Social Research Center, 2001. This research was completed with 1320 people in the cities . of Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir, Adana, Samsun, Diyarbakır, and Erzurum using faceto-face interviews. In another survey conducted one month later, voter support of the party had dropped to 20.1 percent. See ANAR, Eylu¨l 2001 Tu¨rkiye Gu¨ndemi Arastırması [September 2001 Turkey’s Agenda Research], Ankara, Ankara Social Research Center, 2001. This research was completed with 1240 people in the cities . of Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir, Adana, Samsun, Diyarbakır, and Erzurum using faceto-face interviews.

Conclusion ¨ mit Cizre U

Developments since 2002 in Turkey lend support to the argument that there are basically two forces that have enhanced the JDP government’s capacity to attempt to alter the power balances through a serious reform program. The first is the accumulated effect of globalized ideas on democracy, quality of life and the markets, which have gathered force over the last 20 years and have established in people’s minds the unquestionable standards of democratic rule. Against the backdrop of the penetration of such globalized reflections, since the mid-1990s, in Turkey, there has been a threshold shift in the definition of national security from external to internal threats to Kurdish separatism and political Islam. That is, although threat levels are perceived to be particularly high around Turkey’s immediate strategic environment, major threats are considered domestic. The political autonomy of the Turkish military in its self-identified role as the custodian of secular-Western parameters of the regime has been raised to a level which allowed it free entry into public policy making via the National Security Council. The regime’s preoccupation with national security policies in the last two decades produced rigidity and fetishization in the official values of the state, the most prominent ones being a monist interpretation of Turkish identity and secularism. Consequently, state-centered politics considered politics as a zero-sum-game with no room for negotiation and compromise as the basis of effective governance. Second, the JDP’s ascendance to power came at a juncture when international perception has highlighted Turkey’s usefulness to a Euro-Atlantic partnership. This has helped the JDP government abandon an Islamic model. Operating in a country with a long-held Western/secular identity while sharing some history, culture, borders and religion with the Muslim Middle East, the JDP’s ‘moderately’ Islamic character created a useful combination with Turkey’s time-tested electoral democracy and staunch defense of secularism. Moreover, there was the effect of the learning curve of the JDP, which developed as a reaction to the establishment’s serious crackdown on the predecessor party (WP) of Necmettin Erbakan in 1997, which was subsequently closed and created disenchantment among the party faithful. Synthesized together in the minds and memories of the JDP’s

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founders, these factors helped them to pass the critical threshold for change toward a ‘better’ democracy, political system and character and functions of Turkey’s political Islam. By appropriating the basically secular-Republican dream of ‘catching up with the West’ through membership in the EU project, the JDP government adopted a conservative-democrat as opposed to Muslim-democrat identity and hoped to deflect any possible opposition that might come from secular quarters. Simultaneously, it also bolstered the social and political aspirations of upcoming social groups. This identity also appealed to the Westernized liberal sectors that are not averse to a moderately Islamic political party provided it has an overarching loyalty to liberal freedoms. Additionally, it would also offer the JDP’s conservative voter base increased religious and personal freedoms, not forgetting the fact that the EU project would also make the principle of popular will effective. What is original about the JDP’s adoption of a religious, conservative, democratic, reformist and pro-European identity is not just its juxtaposition of the central values of the Republic with conservative democratic standards. In the initial plan of action, its transformative politics also aimed at dramatically altering the political power balance that has sustained the ancient regime’s prominence, most notably that of the leading actor, the Turkish military’s unusual political influence. Democratic reform requirements for entry into the EU would provide the JDP with the means to break that stagnant pattern. Another key feature of adopting a ‘Europeanist’ foreign policy and a ‘reformist’ internal one was the strategies it offered to underpin effective governance. The 1990s were marked by unclear, chaotic and failed policies, as well as politicians incapable of coping with the social disparities, dislocations and identity claims created by the globalizing economy and society. As the ‘creeping Islamization of Turkey’ is attributed to the strategies of irresponsible, weak and inefficient political agents, politics was understood as needing a dose of Kemalist moral injection. Regime questions were brought to the fore and concrete political issues and problems were pushed aside. Public interest was framed as the ‘good’ forces against ‘evil,’ the victory of secularism against the creeping threat of Islamization, or the feudalization of life. Politics relied on establishing legitimacy by focusing on ‘internal threats.’ The remaining energy in politics was spent on political opportunism and the mechanics of staying in power, which involved not upsetting the status quo. The massive economic and social crisis that the country was plunged into in February 2001 sapped even further the strength of centrist politics and paved the way to more conservative policies and politicians until the elections of November 2002 declared the bankruptcy of all spectrums. It is true that in the last 20 years, most voters voted for change but in a nebulous way, not really agreeing on a specific agenda but expecting an efficient output, a convincing story that brings positive results to their own

Conclusion

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lives. In contrast, the JDP’s focus on accession to the EU has helped to transform the negative inertia of the 1990s into a positive discourse relevant for effective governance. With center-left and right in a coma, in the new era, which began with the November 2002 elections, to be able to have staying power, the JDP politicians had to do more than just deliver jobs and prosperity. Their primary focus would have to be on advancing a new project— not challenging the hegemonic Kemalist one—in order to build effective governance. The JDP’s EU-focused pro-Western policy priorities, however, have served to provide a single coherent policy platform with parallel goals to that of the Kemalist modernization paradigm. This was the first time in two decades that politics had refused to become an appendix to neo-liberal market reforms. The procedural requirements of democratic rule in line with the EU’s ‘good practices’ and popular democratic support were used to add credibility to the government’s desire to circumscribe especially the Turkish Armed Forces’ sphere of political influence. This was done through a series of reforms rolling back the functions and authority of the National Security Council in August 2003. As important as strong policy performance is, the new government had to cope with social disparities, displacements, and despair caused by the process of opening up and integrating with the world. This need was translated into the language of effective governance in the form of policies of ‘equity’ and corresponded to the ‘conservative’ streak in the party. The ‘political entrepreneurship’ approach to politics, which indicates that the elected politician appropriates an issue and deals with it to bring results, was, to some extent, also influential in shaping the new agenda. A genuine de-Islamization of the JDP was the crux of reshuffling Turkey’s political players: indeed, in the first few years of its political life in office, prioritizing democracy over security concerns did overcome the traditional powerlessness of the civilian politicians. The question has arisen of whether the Islamic pedigree of the party, the religious background of its leaders, and the conservative-pious and sometimes conservative-Islamist voter constituency would infuse Turkey’s secular public realm with more Islamic symbols and practices. One way of answering this question is to look at the core Islamist demands from the government. They have been reduced to two areas: the alleviation of the grievances of headscarf-wearing students who are banned from entering universities and granting freedom of education for the graduates of Prayer Leader and Preacher Schools in terms of allowing them to continue their education in universities. In other words, rationalist and hedonistic perspectives derived from global capitalism created the basis for bottom-up and de facto incentives for removing Islam from the center stage of the reformist JDP. In addition, notwithstanding the government’s ‘political’—not religious—practice of distributing patronage, Turkish public administration is unequivocally framed in Westernist ideas and secular values. Increased religious and personal freedoms cannot and have not provided a new standard for the public administration.

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All this is not to ignore the politico-cultural values and convictions that underpin the secular sectors’ intense fear and distrust of the political profile of the JDP. Turkey’s history as well as the state-reforming promises of the new identity of the JDP have caused tremendous fears and concerns in the secular establishment, as well as in the secular-modern segments, about an Islamic ‘hidden agenda’ of the government. These doubts and nervousness have been translated into an effective campaign to undermine the government’s attempts to habituate the secular-modernists to its political existence. There is a historical foundation for this: If one major problem throughout the Republic was the fear of a breakup by the pull of nonTurkish ethnics, the other has been the perceived threat of reaction, obstruction, and subversion of the secular principle of the Republic by Islamists. However, we need to also stress that the perception of Islamic values and norms as the ‘negative other’ of the Republic were handed over from the past as well as constructed by the whole socialization/education system, which is overwhelmingly dominated by the Kemalist paradigm. Therefore, it is quite right to say that the Islamic ‘threat’ amounts to more than just the ‘objective presence’ of it. However, in the history of the Republic, there have been changes in the perceived threat, which have affected the strategy and nature of the response by the secular establishment, showing that Kemalist political tradition and practice are not fixed legacies with fixed strategies toward political Islam. The history of the Republic has demonstrated a repertoire of diverse strategies, ranging from political negotiation and compromise to repression toward political Islam in upholding the fundamental aspects of the Kemalist ideology. In other words, the two sides have deployed different strategies at different phases. The question is with what incentives and purposes. Since 2005, as negotiations with the EU proceeded, politically difficult reforms on the expansion of democracy brought out the fault lines of the JDP government and accelerated its rent-gathering activities that elicited support from its power base. Criticism from the secular block, the EU leaders/bodies and Turkey’s liberal sectors has served to demonstrate the severe contradictions, ‘true conservative colors’ and reversals in the ruling party’s policies. The party leaders turned to maintaining a ‘negative peace’ with ultra-conservative and chauvinistic elements and to converging with the secular establishment’s policies of promoting state interests at the expense of individual freedoms. The policy shift from a democratic and peaceful solution to the Kurdish problem and from upholding freedom of expression are perhaps the best examples of the JDP’s departure from its initial focus on democracy promotion and its turn to a more pragmatic/safe/defensive approach. The overarching objective being to promote its chances of winning the double elections—presidential and parliamentary—in 1997, this policy shift brought out the JDP’s system-supportive tenets and made clear that the pursuit of a democratic agenda for the party was in fact more difficult than it seemed.

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One can speak of a precarious balance of forces in Turkey in 2007: while the historical roadmap of Turkey is acknowledged by all sides as pointing at some kind of integration with Europe, the traditional power center’s concern with revolving politics around state-centered and state-defined security, identity, unity and foreign policy priorities remain intact. The interesting paradox lies in the fact that the picture of ‘Turkey-as-resistance’ is juxtaposed to another cheerful picture of ‘Turkey-as-adaptability’ to the democracy-centered security architecture in post-Cold War Europe. The JDP stands at the intersection of these two impressions. It stands at a historic point of deciding whether to reverse its conservative right-wing shift back to a direction in which the EU-generated democratic reforms are once more the centerpiece of its discursive and policy achievements and are normalized as a way of life for all actors inclusive of secular or anti-secular beliefs.

Index

adultery 9, 53 Afghanistan 73, 99 Agar, Mehmet 210 Agos 156 agriculture 82–83 Akdogan, Yalc¸in 34, 74, 82 AK Parti Program 97 Aksu, Abdu¨lkadir 86 Aktas, Cihan 70 Aktay, Y. 85 Alan, B. 75 Alan, Nuri 118 alcoholic beverages 9, 53, 151 Alevi minorities 123, 186, 188 Algeria 19, 20 Alkan, T. 63 Alpogan, Yigit 119–20 Ankara 29, 148 Ankara Agreement to the (Greek) Republic of Cyprus (1963) 182, 183– 84 Ankara Social Research Center (ANAR) 201–2 anti-terror laws 2, 10, 124, 135, 138, 155 Arab-Israeli war 19 Arabs 23 Arinc¸, Bu¨lent 33, 86, 91, 92, 145–46, 202, 219 Armenian issue 156; France’s criminalization of denial of genocide 125, 185 Ash, Timothy G. 101 Asian religions 67 Asiltu¨rk, Oguzhan 176, 178 Association for Ataturkist Thought 148 Atatu¨rk, Mustafa Kemal 23, 24, 26, 98, 109, 207 Austria 183

autobiographies: critical attitudes to Islam 73–74, 76 Aydin, Ertan 6 al-Azhar (Egypt) 22 Al-Azmeh, Aziz 17, 67 Baba, Sheikh Rahmi 24 Bahc¸eli, Devlet 210 Bakirhan, Tuncer 210 Balci, K. 156 Balkans 88 Bandung Era (1955–75) 27 banks 116 Baser, Edip 124 Batman 99 Bayat, A. 18 Baykal, Deniz 95–96, 98, 99, 136, 155, 207, 210 Bayramoglu, Ali 44 Beck, Ulrich 5 Beinin, J. 18 Belge, M. 1 Bilgi University, Istanbul 156 Bilgi ve Du¨su¨nce 74 Bingol-Mus region 99 Boer, L. 19 bourgeoisie see middle class Britain: anti-terror laws 125 broadcasting: Kurdish language 2, 97, 138 Brumberg, D. 35 Brussels European Summit (December 2004) 182 Bulac¸, Ali 25, 42, 44, 65, 66, 67, 72 Bumin, Mustafa 118 Buruma, I. 19 business associations 25, 178 Buyukanit, General Yasar 145, 149–50, 151, 152, 153, 159, 189

Index Cagaptay, S. 136 Canatan, Kadir 74 C ¸ ayir, Kenan 5, 6, 8 CEDAW (Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women) 52– 53 Central Asia 88 Central and Eastern European Countries (CEECs) 183 Chirac, Jacques 185 Christianity 181 Christian minorities 123 C ¸ ic¸ek, Cemil 86, 125, 153, 156, 188 C ¸ iller, Tansu 98, 176, 207 C ¸ inar, M. 5, 9, 35, 83, 94, 149 Cindoruk, Hu¨samettin 94–95 civilization: JDP’s discourse 83–84 civil-military relations: new balance of power 12, 162; reforms to align Turkey with EU 137–40, 145, 146, 154, 159, 160–61, 177; weakening of democratic civilian control 152–53, 157 civil society: in dialogue between West and Islam 21, 32; harboring of suspicions about JDP 180; JDP’s contribution to democracy for 151; in JDP’s idea of nationalism 55, 57; role in protection of individual rights 51 ¨ . 26, 27, 30 Cizre-Sakallioglu, U ¨ mit 6–7, 12, 22, 94 Cizre, U Cold War 7, 24, 27 conservatism: anti-European outlook 175–76; as ideology 44–45; Islamists of early Republic 28 conservative democracy: JDP’s political identity 34, 42, 44–45, 86, 96, 180, 186; as term applied to Islam 76; Yildiz’s thesis 6 conservative-nationalism: JDP’s move towards 10, 133, 156, 158 Constitutional Court 25, 95, 115; annulment of first round of presidential voting 13, 159; closure of political parties 4, 29, 30, 49, 81, 176, 179, 209, 212; decision on wearing of headscarves 93; verdicts according to secularist values 118 constitutionalism 119 constitutional reforms: RRP’s rejection of proposals 115; to align Turkey’s laws with EU 137, 139–40, 182, 186

229

Copenhagen Criteria 80–81, 178, 181, 183, 184–85, 186; Turkey’s reform packages to conform to 87–88, 121 corruption 81, 218 Council of Europe (CE) 177 Council of State 118, 119 Cox, Pat 182 cultural diversity 55, 187 cultural history: Turkey’s importance to Europe 181 Customs Union 155, 176–77, 177, 178 Cyprus: Customs Union protocol 155; JDP’s policy 2, 56, 157, 217–18; joining of EU as divided island 136, 143; military’s concerns over security 141, 142; negotiations to end division of 136, 142–43; problems with EU over 101, 182, 183–85, 190 Dagi, I. 47, 76, 82, 85 Davutoglu, A. 88, 181, 190 death penalty: abolition 2 Demirel, Su¨leyman 42, 98, 207, 208, 210 democracy: Europeanization as aiding promotion of 88; globalized context 120, 223; JDP’s language of 74, 82, 87, 125, 179; as key to Turkey’s EU membership 137–38, 160–61, 177, 178; military view of demands for 110; parallels and shared values of West and Islam 18, 21; precarious hope for reconciliation with secularism 36; problems within JDP 96, 101; Turkey’s electoral system 31, 111, 112–13, 122, 223; Welfare Party’s understanding of 30, 68; see also conservative democracy Democratic Left Party 207, 208 democratization 27, 30–31, 35; Islamic movements in context of 47, 63–64; JDP’s loss of ability in 2, 100, 145, 161; and JDP’s project of Europeanization 4, 120, 121–23, 126– 27, 154, 155–56, 157, 224; as politicization 109, 117, 122; postCold War connection with security 139 Democrat Party (DP) 6, 42, 43 Denktas, Rauf 142–43 development 84, 85 Dilipak, Abdurrahman 65 Dink, Hrant 55, 156 Directorate of Religious Affairs 21, 22

230

Index

Diyarbakir 97, 99, 125, 155; Erdogan’s trial 202 Dogan, E. 83 domestic policy: JDP 83–84, 86, 90, 94, 134–35; problems with EU 101, 188– 89 Duran, Burhanettin 5, 6, 10, 18, 87, 88 East Timor 27 Ecevit, Bulent 210 economic crisis 81 economic policies 43, 50 economy: bourgeoisie’s interests and European market 32; conservative stance on benefits of EU 177; EU’s ‘anchoring’ of Turkey 180; negative indicators in 2005–6 218; opportunities for Muslim businessmen 178 education: background of JDP members 204–5; background of JDP supporters 218; JDP’s policies 52; literacy campaign for girls 52; progress in 1970s and 1980s 64, 69; secularist opposition to government policies 118 Efe, M. 76 al-Effendi, Abdel Wahab 20 Egypt: compared with Turkey 22, 23, 23–24, 26, 27, 31, 35; Islamism 19; al-Wasat 20, 34, 35 elections see general elections; presidential elections equal opportunities: JDP’s education policy 52, 54 Erbakan, Necmettin: as banned by Constitutional Court 212; changing stance on EU 177; criticism of JDP 8–9, 48, 51; discourse of Welfare Party 68, 74; as leader of NOM 29, 48, 51, 83, 86, 176; as leader of WP 22, 29, 49, 223; on political position of JDP 211–12; traditionalism 62; weak credibility 202, 209, 210, 217 Erdogan, Recep Tayyip: concerns over anti-Muslim sentiments 158; criticism of secularist institutions 91; democratic credentials 57, 89; discourse on civilizations 83–84; discourse on Turkish national identity 97–98, 99; on EU decision to suspend accession talks 184–85; on Europeanization 121, 177; ideological transformation 81–82, 83;

image attracting sympathy from voters 5, 43; Islamic sensitivity 8, 33, 35, 95, 98; perspective on Kurdish question 100, 117–18, 124, 187; perspective on politics 90, 94; perspective on religion 57, 85, 86, 117; popularity with JDP members and deputies 209, 217; on position of JDP 42, 43, 76, 82; potential presidential candidacy 148, 149; Prodi’s praise of 144; role in success of JDP 201–3, 219; on societal differences 122; on superiority of parliament 135; visits to European member countries 62, 181–82 Eruygur, Sener 148 Esposito, John 47 ethnic identities: background of JDP deputies in Parliament 215–16; JDP’s policy 55, 57, 97–98, 99, 208; and minority rights 188 EU Commission: evaluation of Turkey’s progress in accession 144, 146; on JDP’s value as model 7; recommendations for more efforts on human rights reforms 9–10; reports on influence of Turkish military 11; requirement for Turkey regarding Additional Protocol 184 European Council 143, 144, 158, 182, 183 European Court of Human Rights 2, 93, 118, 123, 138, 186 Europeanization: JDP’s project 120, 121–25, 126, 161, 180; NOM’s opposition to 176; TAF’s historical project 142; tensions over identity issues 101; Turkey’s historical aspirations 13, 175, 227 European Muslims 181 European Parliament 2 European Union (EU): accession process 89–90, 101, 120–21, 144–45, 151, 181, 182–83, 190, 218; challenges to JDP’s agenda 183–89; concerns over Turkish membershop 7, 10, 157, 161, 181, 185–86, 189; and Cyprus issue 142–43, 182, 183–85; decline of Turkish support for 100, 125, 133, 154, 154–56, 158, 186, 189; Gu¨len Movement’s support for integration 32; JDP’s achievement of green light from 8, 55, 146–47, 151; JDP’s policy for entry into 1, 4, 120,

Index 121, 136–37, 179, 180–81, 190, 225; JDP’s reforms to aid Turkey’s accession to 2, 9–10, 11–12, 51, 63, 80–81, 87–88, 132, 134, 146, 160–61, 182, 188; Kemalist perspective 27, 35–36; NOM’s oppositional stance 67, 176–78; rejection of constitution in France and Netherlands 155, 157; tough new conditions for Turkish entry 157–58, 182–83, 184–85; Turkish Islamist view 24; undercutting of military’s credibility 141–42; viewed as Chriatian club by conservatives 27, 67, 181, 190; weakening of JDP’s reform agenda 9, 57, 89–90, 133, 146–47, 150–51, 157 family: background of JDP deputies in Parliament 215; JDP’s position 53; Muslim emphasis on 76 family planning 52 February 28 Process 109–10, 111, 140, 177, 186, 190, 209; closure of opposition parties 25, 49, 82, 86, 95, 212; effect on Turkish Islamism 24, 25, 30, 33, 41, 71–72, 72, 75; Kemalist project 121 Felicity Party 41, 49, 54, 56, 189–90, 203, 209 Fethullah Gu¨len Movement 32 Firat, Mir Dengir 86 First World War 23 foreign policy: JDP 55–56, 80, 86–87, 87–89, 134–35, 190, 224; military’s involvement 132, 159 France: criminalization of denial of Armenian genocide 125, 185; rejection of EU constitution 155, 157 freedom of expression 2, 10, 138, 155, 156, 226 free market economy 50, 52 Fuller, Graham 47, 56 general elections: 1991 206–7; 2002 1, 4, 20, 41, 62, 75, 80, 110, 112–13, 132, 201, 212–14; voting by JDP members before JDP founded 206 geography/geopolitics 88 globalization: context of democratization 120, 223; creation of opportunities for JDP 8, 46, 81, 111; and rise of oppositional Islamism 19, 25, 29 Gole, N. 21, 25, 32, 66

231

Gonu¨ltas, N. 72 Greece: Cyprus issue 101, 190 Greek Cypriot government 147 Gu¨l, Abdullah 86, 156, 176–77, 188, 219; discourse on civilizations 83–84; importance in reformist wing of Virtue Party 202, 203; on Islam as cement of Turkish society 33; on JDP’s new politics 31, 80, 82; as presidential candidate 13, 150, 153, 159, 160; views on Turkey’s accession to EU 179, 181, 189 Gu¨len, Fethullah 25 Gu¨ru¨z, Kemal 116 Gutman, A. 109 Hak-Is Labour Union 32 Hakkari 97 Halpin, A. 119 Haydar Bas community 25 hazelnut crisis 218 headscarf issue: addressed in Halime Toros’s novels 70–71; ban affecting university students 9, 32, 33, 35, 46, 63, 66, 69, 71–72, 116–17, 225; Constitutional Court decision on 93; EU demand for solution to 186; European Court of Human Rights judgment 93, 118, 123; JDP’s failure to address 54, 90, 91, 92, 117, 151, 179; as threat to secularist regime 95–96; wives of politicians wearing headscarves 41, 89, 94, 114, 140, 150 Helsinki European summit (1999) 120, 137, 143, 178, 183, 186 Hermann, R. 27 Higher Education Board (YOK) 49, 52, 90, 91, 95, 115, 116, 119, 140 hijab see headscarf issue Hizbullah 23 honor killings 52 Houston, C. 69 human rights: as concern to new Turkish Islamists 32; dialogue between West and Islam 21; Europeanization as aiding promotion of 88; EU’s requirement for further reforms 10, 147, 158, 177; headscarf issue 186; international norms 50; JDP’s language of 74, 82, 87; military view of demands for 110; Turkey’s reforms to comply with EU demands 182 Human Rights Advisory Council 187–88

232

Index

Hussein, Saddam 134 imam hatip schools (preacher and orator schools) 33, 47, 52, 90, 179, 186, 225 IMF (International Monetary Fund) 27, 80 income distribution 101 independent small organizations 25 Indonesia: compared with Turkey 22, 23–24, 26, 27, 31, 35; Islamism in oppositional politics 19; NU party 34 Inonu¨, Erdal 98, 207 Inonu, Ismet 210, 217 intellectuals 25; charged with ‘denigration of Turkishness’ 156; Islamists of 1970s and 1980s 29, 65– 66; new self-critical attitude in 1990s 72, 74, 75, 76 Iran 19, 20, 65, 73, 89, 141 Iraq: JDP’s policies on crisis 217–18; problem of Kurds in Northern region 133, 149–50, 154, 158–59, 187; US aim to attack via Turkish territory 56, 143–44; US invasion 7, 89, 141 Islam: alternative view to essentialist portrayals 17–18; de-emphasis by secular Republican state 21, 22; dialogue and interaction with the West 21; Erdogan’s ‘reference to’ 8, 33, 57, 97, 98, 99; essentialist ideas 17, 67, 68; implications of conservative democracy 76; JDP’s ‘Islam-friendly’ politics 2, 3, 43, 76, 134, 150, 223; Metiner’s view 73–74; military’s depiction of 134, 145; repositioned as opposing Western values 65–66; secular state’s depiction of 1, 113–14; in Turkey’s politics 5; and Western security interests 7 Islamic companies 72 Islamic identity 3; ideas upheld by JDP 35, 84 Islamic jihad 73 Islamic movements 63–64, 64–65; adapting to democratic issues 47; women’s evaluation of their position in 69–71 Islamic terrorism 1 Islamism: alternative view to essentialist portrayals 17–18, 31–32; anti-European outlook 175–76; collective and oppositional movement 64–68, 69–71, 74, 75;

developmentalist mentality from Ottoman period 85; different trajectories 18–21; diverse groups and interests in Turkey 64–65; heterogenization of 75; historical importance to Turkey 42; JDP’s denial of label 4, 31, 56, 76, 120; JDP’s legacy of 56–57, 85–86, 92, 111–12, 201, 225; JDP’s self-critical voice 5, 64, 65; nationalism and conservatism 28; in post-colonial era 19; self-reflexive movement in 1990s and 2000s 68–71, 72, 74; TAF’s concern with threat of 132, 141, 142; view of JDP as having hidden agenda of 8, 42, 63, 90, 111, 113, 115–16, 122, 126, 226; Welfare Party 4, 29, 30; see also New Islamism; Turkish Islamism Islamist movements 17, 20 Islamization 2, 34–35, 224 Islamophobia 185 Israel 55, 89; see also Arab-Israeli war Istanbul 29, 83, 99, 202 Jamaat-i Islami 19 Jordan 19 journalists/columnists: charged with ‘denigration of Turkishness’ 156; Milli Gazete writer’s criticism of JDP 75; new self-critical attitude in 1990s 72; Ozkok’s comment about governor with veiled wife 92–93 judiciary 119–20 justice: concepts 84–85 Justice and Development Party (JDP): achievement of staying in power 151; ascendancy to power 3–4; attempts to engage with secularism 117; attempts to manage relationship with TAF 133, 134–37; breakdown of military policy 159–60; challenges to EU policy 183–89; commitment to transformation of politics 80–81, 82– 87, 94, 110–12, 224; conflict with secularist establishment 1–2, 3, 11, 90, 95–96, 114–15; conservativedemocrat identity 3, 5–6, 34, 42, 43, 44–45, 62–63, 82, 84, 85–86, 221, 224; in context of modernization and democratization 63–64, 180, 223; demographic characteristics of members 203–5; denial of ‘Islamism’ label 4, 31, 56, 76, 82, 86, 120;

Index deputies in Parliament 214–17; differences with NOM 42, 46, 48–51, 86–87, 98; Erdogan’s importance to 201–3; Europeanization and democratization project 120, 121–25, 155–56, 180; foreign policy 55–56, 80, 86–87, 134–35, 190; formation 62–63, 74, 110–11, 203; image of leadership cadre 219–21; importance for transformation of Islamism 21, 34–36, 45–48; intersection of Islamism and secularism in policies 51–56, 57; Islamic symbols in own lifestyles 89, 94, 114, 225; limits to transformative politics 8–10, 89–91, 100–101; maintaining of affinity with Islam 43, 85–86, 223; military policies 1, 6–7, 11–12, 132–33, 153– 54; policy of integration with EU 1, 4, 8, 31, 32, 83, 84, 87–88, 89, 120, 121, 134, 136–37, 175, 179–83, 190, 225; policy on Kurdish question 96– 100, 117–18; political background of members 205–10; problems in addressing secularism 91–96; problems to come to terms with 101; reasons for success and current situation 223–27; reform agenda 3, 4–5, 7, 11–12, 36, 74, 80, 87–88, 121, 223; reforms to aid entry into EU 2, 9–10, 11–12, 63, 80–81, 132, 146, 160–61, 182, 186–87, 188; secularists’ suspicion of hidden Islamic agenda of 8, 63, 90, 111, 113, 115–16, 122, 126, 226; social identity 201; socio-political identities of members 210–12; supporters after November 2002 elections 217–19, 221; victory in 2002 elections 1, 41, 62, 75, 80, 110, 112–13, 132, 201; weakening of reform agenda 9, 57, 89–90, 133, 144–59, 146–47, 150–51, 156–59 Justice Party 6, 25, 42, 216 Kac¸an, H. 71 KADEK 152 Kadin Kimligi 70 Kalaycioglu, E. 93 Kara, Ismail 24 Karakoc¸, Sezai 25 Karayalcin, Murat 207 Kazan, Sevket 189, 212 Kekec¸, A. 72–73

233

Kemalism: ‘conservative establishment’ 112; definition 26; elites and Islamist ‘counter-elites’ 20; and failure of judiciary 120; ideal of Westernized Turkey 6, 35–36, 94; Islamic oppositional stance in 1970s and 1980s 65–66; Islamist intellectual critics 29; JDP’s approach to 45, 90; likely effect of transition to EU on 24; military’s project to restore 110; modernization 109, 225; opposition to pro-EU policies 121; Ottoman legacy of state control 21–22; strategy against current government 113; tensions and interactions with Islam 26–28, 35, 47; WP’s view of as root of Kurdish problem 98 Kemal, Mustafa see Atatu¨rk, Mustafa Kemal Khan, Mukhdetar 47 Khomeini, Ayatollah Ruhollah 20 Kinzer, S. 5 Kisaku¨rek, Necip Fazil 28, 34 Komec¸oglu, U. 69 Koonings, K. 146 Kosebalaban, H. 86, 178 Kretschmer, Hansjoerg 146, 158 Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP) 100, 124 Kurdish Islamic groups 65 Kurdish language: broadcasting 2, 97, 138 Kurdish minorities 186, 188, 207, 208 Kurdish question: JDP’s inadequacies in dealing with 57, 90, 93, 99–100, 101, 187, 226; JDP’s policy 10, 96– 100, 117–18; JDP’s turn to hard-line conservative approach 124, 133, 157; Kurdish forces in Northern Iraq 149–50, 158, 187; RRP’s rejection of JDP’s reform proposals 115; TAF’s concern with security threat 132, 141, 142, 154, 155 Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK) 23, 97, 100, 124, 125; terrorist attacks 99, 99–100, 101, 152, 187, 189 Kutan, Recai 178, 189, 202, 203 law: establishment’s attempt to unify with politics 119; irrelevance of Islam in Turkey 22 Lesser, I.O. 86 liberal democracy: JDP’s agenda 46, 57, 112; judiciary’s failure to respect

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principles of 119; perspective on JDP 49; role in reshaping of Turkish politics 178 Libya 72 literary figures: charged with ‘denigration of Turkishness’ 156; oppositional Islam of 1970s and 1980s 65; self-questioning attitude of 1990s 72 Luckham, R. 161 Luxembourg Council (December 1997) 177 Maastricht criteria 184–85 Malaysia 19 Mardin, S. 23, 92 Margalit, A. 19 Maududi, Abu-l-A’la 19, 32 Mazlum-Der (Organization for Human Rights and Solidarity for Oppressed People) 25, 186 Mecham, R.Q. 84 Menderes, Adnan 209, 209–10, 217 Merkel, Angela 185 Metiner, Mehmet: autobiography 73– 74 middle class: creation of Islamic public spaces 69; factor in transformation of Turkish Islam 32 Middle East: Baykal’s comment 99; JDP’s foreign policy 55, 56, 88, 89; Turkish concerns over US policies 189 military establishment: anti-EU stance 122, 157; breakdown of JDP’s policy towards 159–60, 161; depiction of Islam 134; distrust and adversarial strategy towards JDP 134, 149–53, 160; EU requirement on limitation of role 152–53; intervention with 28 February Process 71–72, 109–10; JDP’s policies 1, 6–7, 11–12, 132– 33, 153–54, 156–57; as pivotal in security regarding terrorist threat 156, 159; recent increase in assertiveness 145–48; responses to JDP reforms 140–41; rift with president of Republic 7–8; significant political influence 11; state ideology of Kemalism 26, 112; suspicion of EU dynamics 141–42; see also civilmilitary relations; National Security Council (NSC); Turkish Armed Forces (TAF)

Milli Gazete 75, 189 minorities: EU demands for liberties for 123, 186, 187, 188; JDP’s limited reforms for 57, 157 modernity: JDP’s search for path to 5; new Islamists’ critique of 29; NOM’s alternative stance to 67, 68 modernization: Islamic movements in context of 63–64, 66; Kemalist 109, 225; non-Western 176; project of secularism 113; and Turkey’s integration with Europe 175; Turkish foundational ideology 26–27; and Turkish Islamism 19, 23, 25, 26, 29 Moise´s, J.A. 114 Monshipouri, M. 18 Morocco 34 Motherland Party (MP) 6, 25, 42, 46, 201, 208, 209, 212, 220; in background of JDP members 205, 207, 216 Mubarak, Hosni Said 26, 27, 35 Mumcu, Erkan 210 ¨ SIAD (Independent Industrialist MU and Businessmen’s Association) 178, 186, 187 Muslim Brotherhood 19, 23, 32 ‘Muslim democratic model’ 3, 34, 89; view of JDP as 5, 8, 45, 144 Muslim subjectivity: in ‘conservative democracy’ 76; transformation from Islamist to 5, 64 Nahdatul Ulema (Movement of Religious Scholars), Indonesia 22 Nakshibendi order 22–23, 25, 34 Nasr, V. 111 Nasser, Gamal Abdul 26 nationalism: anti-European outlook 175–76; condemned by Kurdish Islamic groups 65; de-emphasis on Islam as part of national identity 21; in education policies 52; influence on Islamism 23, 28; JDP’s dilemma 54– 55, 158; NOM parties 54; rise due to Kurdish problem 100, 125 Nationalist Action Party (NAP) 205, 206, 207–8, 208, 209, 212 National Order Party 29, 48, 49, 50, 135, 176 National Outlook Movement (NOM) 20–21, 25, 30, 64, 150; in background of JDP members 205, 216, 220–21; closing down of parties in 74;

Index concept of ‘just order’ 43, 49, 84–85; critics of JDP 8–9, 75; differences with JDP 42, 46, 48–51, 86–87, 98; division after February 28 intervention 49, 62; foreign policy conceptions 55; foundation 29; Islamic political discourse 67; JDP as descendant of 3, 6, 43, 47, 56, 179– 80, 201; JDP’s policies to curb powers of 11–12; Metiner’s membership 73; nationalism 54; reformists and founding of JDP 74, 81–82; significance of name 86; stance on EU 176–78; ‘Third Worldist’ perspective 83; view of secularism 53 National Salvation Party 29, 48, 50, 176, 216 National Security Council (NSC) 4, 62, 118, 153, 177, 223; JDP’s reforms to decrease power of 36, 133, 135, 137– 38, 140, 157, 225 National Security Policy Document 92, 139 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) 27, 83, 138 NATO Summit, Riga (November 2006) 184 ‘negative political discrimination’ 115– 17 neo-liberal policies: JDP 51, 82–83, 134 Netherlands 155, 157 New Islamism 42, 45–48, 74 Nokta 148 Norway 187 novels: showing self-questioning attitude to Islam 72–73, 76; see also salvation novels Nutuk, . . . 98 Ocalan, Abdullah 97 Occidentalism 19 Ok, Nuri 118–19 Omer, Caliph 68 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) 50, 138 Ornek, Admiral Ozden 148 Ottoman period: bureaucratic attitude towards Arabs 23; Islamic consciousness of civilization 83, 85; Islamist notion of Truth 67; legacy continued by Kemalism 21–22; Turkish European aspirations 175

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Ozal, Turgut 46, 98, 201, 207, 209, 209– 10, 217 Ozcan, N.A. 100 Ozdenoren, Rasim 25 Ozel, Ismet 25, 65 Ozel, Soli 137 Ozkaya, Eraslan 117 Ozkok, Ertugrul 92–93 Ozkok, General Hilmi 116, 141, 142, 145, 151, 155, 155–56 Pakistan 19, 32 Palestine 89 Pamuk, Orhan 156 Papadopoulos, Tassos 185 parliament: Arinc¸’s concerns over exclusion of 92; Erdogan’s concerns for 135 Penal Law: on insulting ‘Turkishness’ 55, 156; JDP’s amendments to 10, 53, 124–25, 150 People’s Labor Party 207 PKK see Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK) political class 9, 109, 110, 136 political Islam 19–21, 23, 29–30 political parties: clientelism between right wing and Islamic groups 28; democratization of system 2; failure of established parties in 2002 elections 110 politicization: and democratization 109, 117, 122; of judiciary 119–20 Pollmark Research Company 203 Pollock, R.L. 150 pornography 76 power relations: between military and JDP 147; JDP’s failure to recognize societal dynamics 122; and JDP’s rise to power 3–4, 35 presidential elections (April/May 2007) 57, 95–96, 124, 149, 157, 159, 160, 226 President of the Republic: authority and appointment powers 2, 124, 126, 149; Kemalist protection of secularism 112, 113 Prodi, Romano 144 Prodromou, E. 143 public administration reform 90, 115 public spaces: Islamic 69; result of 28 February Process 71 Qutb, Mohammed 73 Qutb, Sayyid 19

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Reformist Democracy Party 206 Rehn, Olli 155, 184 religious education/schools 47, 54, 91, 92, 151; see also imam hatip schools religious identity 41 religious orders and communities 25, 34, 72, 188 Remnick, D. 23 Republican People’s Party (RPP) 91, 94, 207, 208; alignment with Kemalist establishment 112; importance of oncoming presidential elections 95–96; rejection of JDP’s reform agenda 90, 115, 118, 121 Rice, Condoleezza 82 rights and liberties: EU recommendations for further reforms 147, 186, 187; EU unease about Turkish infringement of 133; headscarf ban 117; JDP’s policies 53– 54, 138; judiciary’s failure to protect 119; position of state in preserving 50, 51 Robins, Philip 143 Roy, O. 76 Russia 141 Safak, Elif 156 Sahin, Leyla 93, 186 salvation novels 66–67, 68 Sarikaya, Ferhat 152 Sarkozy, Nicolas 185 Sayyid, B. 113 Schu¨ssel, Wolfgang 185 secularism: as ‘communitization’ of the state 113–15, 149; Erdogan’s views 8, 91; importance to Western security interests 7; interactions with Islamism 17–18, 24, 57; Islamic oppositional stance in 1970s and 1980s 65, 68; in JDP’s agenda 31, 53– 54, 74, 91, 91–96, 111–12, 117; polarization with Europeanization 122; precarious hope for reconciliation with democracy 36; promotion of acceptable ‘state Islam’ 22; Sezer’s protective stance towards 118, 148; TAF’s determination to protect 12–13, 132, 145–46, 152, 160; Welfare Party 5, 29; women’s position in relation to 69–71 secularist establishment: conflict with JDP 1–2, 3, 11, 49, 90, 95–96, 114– 15, 150; conflict with Welfare Party

95; desire to erase Erdogan from politics 202; forbidding of application of sharia 23; Foreign Ministry 135; suspicions about JDP’s hidden Islamism 8, 63, 90, 111, 113, 115–16, 126, 226 security: EU’s recommendations for further reforms 10; importance of Cyprus 142; JDP’s attempts to influence policy 135, 136, 139, 146, 161; Kurdish question 10, 133, 154, 156, 158–59; shift in nature of threats 223; Turkey’s traditional policies 1; Western perspective of Turkish regime 7; see also National Security Policy Document Semdinli Incident 10, 99, 152, 153 Sener, Abdu¨llatif 86, 202 September 11 events 7, 17 Sever, M. 76 Sezer, Ahmet Necdet 95, 210; criticism of JDP’s reform attempts 49, 90; notion of Turkish nation 98; rift with military establishment 7–8, 159; secularist views 114, 115, 117, 118, 148 Shadid, A. 21 sharia 20, 22, 23, 28, 33 Sheehan, M. 93 Shi’a 19 shura 18 Sı¨¨ırt 99 Sivan, E. 76 Social Democrat People’s Party 207 social security reform 82 Southern Anatolia (Kurdish constituency) 96 state: domination of Turkish political culture 22, 24, 223; personalization and politicization 116, 118 State Audit Court 118 State Security courts: abolition 140 Stoiber, Edmund 185 Stork, J. 18 Sufi orders: Naksibendi 22–23; support of National Order Party 29, 64 Suharto, Thojib N.J. 26, 27, 35 Sunnis 19, 24, 25, 123, 188 Supreme Board of Radio and ¨ K) 97, 140 Television (RTU Supreme Military Board 147 Syria 89 Taleqani, Sayyid Muhamud 19 Taluk, S. 70

Index terrorism: Erdogan’s concerns over EU definition 158; EU’s view of Turkey’s help with problem 145; JDP’s enactment of Anti-terror Law 99, 124, 155–56; Kurdish separatists 99, 99–100, 101, 152, 155–56, 187, 189; Western association of Islamism with 17 Tezic¸, Erdogan 118 ‘Third Worldism’ 27; National Outlook Movement’s perspective 83 Thompson, D. 109 Toprak, B. 69 Toros, Halime 70 trade unions 25 True Path Party (TPP) 29, 71, 176, 177, 207, 208, 212, 220; in background of JDP members 205, 207, 207–8, 216 Truth (Hak): Islamic essentialist notion 67 Tunisia 19 Turk, Ahmet 124 Tu¨rkes, Alparslan 209–10, 210, 217 Turkish Armed Forces (TAF): choices available to high command 162; concerns about Islamization policies 2, 7; determination to protect secular republic 12–13, 132, 145–46, 151–52, 160; JDP’s attempts to manage relationship with 133, 134–37, 140, 225; JDP’s failure to resolve problems with 153–54, 154, 155, 161; retention of political influence 11, 141; shift towards more proactive policies 147–48, 150; warning statement on presidential elections 149–50, 159–60, 161 Turkish Confederation of Employer Associations (TISK) 177 Turkish identity: Erdogan’s discourses 97–98, 99; JDP’s addressing of issues 93, 96, 99–100 Turkish Islamism 21–26, 31, 33; centrality of concept of civilization 83; tensions and interactions with Kemalism 26–28, 35; two ways of Islamization combined 34–35; see also Islamism; New Islamism Turkish language 97 TUSIAD (Association of Turkish Industrialists and Businessmen) 112, 120 Ugur, E. 89

237

ulema 21, 22, 93 unemployment 101 United Nations (UN) 55, 83, 143 United States (US): involvement in Cyprus issue 143; JDP’s relations with 55–56, 81, 89, 133, 144, 150; need for approval for invasion of Iraq via Turkish territory 56, 143–44; policy on Islamism 46; policy on Kurdish terrorists in Iraq 150, 158; policy towards Turkey 56, 133; Turkish concerns over Middle East policy 189 universities: headscarf issue 9, 35, 46, 47, 66, 69, 71–72, 93, 118, 123; nationalist reaction following Diyarbakir riots 125 university administrators 112, 113 urbanization 64 Uzan group 218 Virtue Party (VP) 49, 54, 81, 208, 212; in background of JDP members 205, 208– 9, 216; closing down of 29–30, 179, 203, 209; and creation of JDP 4, 41, 201, 202; pro-EU stance 55, 178, 189 War of Independence 23, 24, 27, 96 al-Wasat movement (Egypt) 20 Welfare Party (WP) 48–49; ascent to power 71; in background of JDP members 205, 208–9; change of stance on integration into EU 176– 77, 189; closing down of 29–30, 62, 67, 81, 86, 110, 135, 186, 208, 223; in coalition government (1996–97) 4, 20, 25, 29, 30, 46, 62, 95, 109–10, 177, 208; conflict with secularist establishment 95; election slogan (1991) 67; Erbakan’s leadership 176; figures prominent in founding of JDP 202; ‘Holy Alliance’ 206; Islamist modernism 29, 85; JDP’s legacy of 4–5, 201; Metiner’s involvement 73; nationalism 54; new Islamist critics of 74; notion of Muslim brotherhood 98; ‘people’s parliament’ cafes 67–68, 69; shift to JDP 41, 83; split between reformists and traditionalists 202; success in 1994 elections 207; women’s role in electoral success 70 the West: dialogue and interaction with Islam 21, 47; diverse attitudes

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of Islamic movements towards 25; influence on Islamist intellectuals 29; Islam’s struggle with 18–19; JDP’s appeal to in search for legitimacy 45; security concerns regarding Islamic regimes 134; Turkey’s orientation towards 23–24 Westernization: Islamic oppositional stance 45, 65–66, 175; JDP accused of succumbing to 75; Kemalist ideal for new Turkey 6, 35–36, 94; project of secularism 113, 117, 224; Turkey’s process of 4 Whitehead, L. 115 White, Jenny B. 26 Wickham, C.R. 22

women: empowerment by Islamic movements 69–71; JDP’s policies 52– 53; participation in JDP 203–4; see also headscarf issue Yavuz, M.H. 22, 33, 47, 83, 100 Yetkin, M. 82 Yildirim, E. 18 Yildiz, Ahmet 6, 8, 85 Yilmaz, Mesut 207, 208 Yu¨lek, Ertan 189 Zarcone, Thierry 85 Zubaida, Sami 20, 23