The Guardian
April 13, 2002
Ayse Nur Zarakolu died of cancer in hospital on January 28 and
was buried within two days. Two weeks after the death of this
internationally renowned publisher, a letter arrived from No 1
state security court, ordering her to appear at 9am on March 21.
"We have opened a case against you, in absentia," the
summons warned. "If you do not come, you will be
arrested."
After her son was arrested for his funeral oration, the trial
date arrived. The lawyers assumed their positions and proceedings
began. "It was like something out of the pages of
Kafka," says her widower, Ragip Zarakolu. "Everybody
was there: the prosecutor, advocate, judges, correspondents,
friends. Only the place of the accused was empty."
The pursuit of a deceased, former librarian may be an extreme
example of Turkish legal pedantry, but it is typical of how
Ankara curtails free speech in the name of defending political
unity.
Zarakolu's alleged crime involved publication of a work entitled
The Song Of Liberty by Huseyin Turhali, an exiled Kurdish lawyer.
She is also being summonsed from her grave to answer charges that
she published The Culture Of Pontus, an anthropological study by
Omer Asan examining the ancient Greek heritage of the region
around Trabzon on the Black Sea.
The cases are active. Her death has not, so far, convinced the
prosecuting authorities to relinquish their grip: the Pontus book
remains banned and under investigation. The court awaits a death
certificate from the registrar confirming that she is now an
ex-publisher and the trial is postponed until June 4.
The prosecution - some might say persecution - of Zarakolu
illustrates the republic's enthusiasm for gagging charges and an
enduring sense of national vulnerability when confronted with
public debate about Turkey's historical identity.
Zarakolu's case is one of those highlighted this month in a
campaign launched by the English branch of the writers'
association, International PEN, which has become
"alarmed" at the numbers of authors, journalists and
publishers appearing before the courts. More than 100 await
trial.
The elected government in Ankara, eager for EU membership, had
attempted to reduce the number of such "causes célèbres"
by reforming its criminal statutes. But politicians and
prosecutors, under the vigilant eye of the military-dominated
national security council, remain sensitive to perceived threats
against the state's territorial integrity.
"Though it welcomes the initiative to improve legislation in
line with EU accession requirements, International PEN is deeply
disappointed by the limited changes to laws used to penalise
freedom of expression in Turkey," the organisation says.
"In some cases penalties have been increased, and the scope
of repressive legislation widened."
Among cases due before the courts this month is the prosecution
of author Selma Kociva and her publisher, Muammer Akyuz, under
article 312 of the Turkish penal code. Her book, Lazona: The
Reality Of The Laz People, is a study of a Turkish ethnic
minority. Article 312, open to a broad spectrum of
interpretations, states that: "A person who incites the
people to hatred or hostility on the basis of a distinction
between social classes, races, religions, denominations or
regions shall, on conviction, be liable to between one and three
years' imprisonment".
Turkey's punitive anti-terror legislation, developed during 15
years of warfare against Kurdish separatist guerrillas, is also
repeatedly deployed to define Kurdish cultural activity as
support for terrorism. "Written and spoken propaganda,
meetings, assemblies and demonstrations aimed at undermining the
territorial integrity of the Republic of Turkey or the
indivisible unity of the nation are prohibited," states
article eight of the anti-terror law.
Another publisher, Abdullah Keskin, this month faced charges for
his firm's translation of After Such Knowledge, What
Forgiveness?, a book by Washington Post journalist Jonathan
Randal. Published in the US and Britain several years ago, it is
an eyewitness account of the establishment of the
western-protected safe haven in Northern Iraq. The Turkish
authorities have taken exception to use of the word
"Kurdistan" in several passages.
Occasionally international opinion dissuades Turkish courts from
banning foreign books. Earlier this year, the US political critic
Noam Chomsky appeared in an Istanbul court to lend support to
Fathi Tas, the 23-year-old publisher of the Turkish edition of
his selected works.
The prosecutor eventually conceded that "the author was
presenting his personal views and scientific assessment" and
"there was no evidence the defendant acted with the purpose
of dividing the state". Fiona Mackay, of the London-based
Kurdish Human Rights Project, attended the hearing and was
surprised at its sudden informality under the glare of western
media. "A few minutes later, word came round that the
defendant had been acquitted, though no judgment was given in
open court."
The dead cannot respond to courtroom interrogation, but Zarakolu,
who was jailed four times for publishing, left behind prison-cell
statements. "I am here today," she wrote in 1993,
"since thought has been deemed a crime, indeed a terrorist
crime."
Born in Antakya in 1946, Zarakolu studied sociology before
entering publishing. Her interest in ethnic minorities set her on
a collision course with Turkey's generals. An investigation into
whether the 1915 Ottoman massacre of Armenians was a planned
genocide earned her a suspended prison sentence.
The Belge publishing house, which she established in an Istanbul
basement, was firebombed in 1995. Numerous titles were
confiscated and destroyed. At one stage she faced more than 30
charges, attracting international support including a
"Freedom to Publish" award at the 1998 Frankfurt book
fair. Zarakolu was unable to collect it as authorities withheld
her passport. Earlier this year, a distinguished cast of writers
from English PEN - including Margaret Drabble, Lady Antonia
Fraser, Sir Tom Stoppard and David Lodge - faxed a petition to
Bulent Ecevit, Turkey's president, calling for the charges
against her and Omer Asan to be dropped.
In Turkey's defence, there have been improvements in freedom of
expression since the military coup of the early 1980s when dozens
of writers were jailed. Many of those charged now are spared
prison sentences. PEN believes that only one writer, Fikret
Baskaya, is being held in prison specifically for his writing.
"Yet the aim is to suppress those who criticise while
avoiding the scrutiny of the outside world," the
organisation says.
The fate of a bus driver who played Kurdish music to his
passengers has triggered an even more curious test case. The
trial of Sulhattin Onen shows just how widely article eight of
the anti- terror law can be stretched. He was given a 45-month
prison sentence for playing music which the authorities claim
contains "separatist propaganda". He says the tape,
entitled The Words Of Heaven, bore an official seal and came from
a local music shop.
His misfortune was to have an army sergeant as his last
passenger. The NCO asked to be dropped off at the local security
directorate where he arrested Onen, claiming that he had forced
passengers to listen to the music more than 20 times. The court
found him guilty of "aiding and abetting an armed
organisation" but later suspended the sentence.