Conversations: Young Civilians

If you have spent more than twenty-minutes talking to me in the past year, I've probably mentioned something about Turkey's history of military coups. The military has forced a change in civilian government four times in the since the Republic was founded in 1923, and many people think a fifth coup is underway.

Earlier this year, a closure case was filed against the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP), a moderate Islamist party that won 47% of the vote in last summer's national elections. Considering Turkey's multi-party system, 47% is a huge victory. It's difficult to explain why this party is so controversial in just a few sentences, but the abridged version is as follows: Turkey was founded as a secular state, and the military along with many state officials, believe in a particular brand of secularism that they enforce with an iron fist. This brand of laicism is an elite value however, and does not fit with the lifestyle or beliefs of most Turkish citizens. Consequently, a dichotomy exists in Turkish society: the secular Kemalists vs. the Islamists. In the eyes of the Kemalists -- which includes the military -- the AKP represents a dangerous Islamist force capable of undoing the foundations of the Turkish state.

The Turkish constitutional court is currently deciding whether or not to close the AKP for "anti-secular activities." There's a lot that can be written about problems with the Constitutional Court itself -- namely that it can close parties too easily -- but there is also quite a bit of evidence indicating that the judges are in bed with the generals. In March, the second-highest judge on the constitutional court had a series of secret meetings with the ground forces commander. Both men initially denied that the meetings took place. Many are referring to the current closure case as a "judiciary coup."

To make things even more exciting (and I promise my detour into the strange land of Turkish politics will be over soon), 86 people were arrested in early July on charges on an alleged coup plot. Two retired generals were among those arrested. (If you are interested in reading more on the so-called Ergenekon gang, check out the following Economist piece.)

On Friday, I met with the Young Civilians, a group that has been passionately outspoken about their opposition to this mess, not because they side with the AKP, but because they believe in democracy. Many of them candidly expressed their dislike of the party itself, but in the same breath explained that they could not stand by and watch the military stage a coup. This is an interesting development in Turkish politics: pro-democracy movements are not a part of this country's "coup history," which is to say that people have either generally supported or opposed coups based on their support or opposition of the ousted party. Few have opposed coups on principle.

The Young Civilians represent a departure from this pattern. Indeed, they reject many established social norms, especially the false dichotomy of Kemalists v. Islamists (which makes sense, considering they are neither!). Last summer, the group ran an imaginary presidential candidate, a woman in a headscarf who was supposed to be a Kurdish, Armenian, and Allewite. All of these qualities make her an unimaginable presidential candidate so far as elites are involved, and yet they also make her the kind of person you are likely to meet on the street or in a coffee house. But in the strange land of Turkish politics, she is an "other", a person whose identity does not fit into this country's rigid social framework.

The Young Civilians want to change all that. A few weeks ago, they held a festival called "Let's become a little bit Kurdish." It's hard to think of something equivalently outrageous for American society, perhaps "Let's all become a little bit black"... even that doesn't approach the Kurdish campaign because black culture has a conspicuous presence in mainstream America. Nevertheless, the Young Civilians hosted Kurdish language and culture classes, dance instruction and a big party in Diyarbakir, the capital of "Kurdistan."

For Turkey, this group is edgey and radical.

For me, this meeting has incredible significance. Most of you know I wrote my undergraduate thesis on Turkish military coups. Getting to talk to -- rather than just read about -- a major player in such an important and unprecedented social debate was an amazing opportunity. These people are the future of Turkey, and they are angry and smart and passionate enough to change things. And Turkey is changing... I know it's easy to write off my interest in this country's politics as the wonkish interest of a wonkier Turkophile. But what's happening here this summer is so important for Turkey specifically and the Muslim world more generally.

So if you're still reading, bravo! Turkish democracy -- real democracy -- arguably hangs by a thread. Whether or not it breaks... a matter of weeks will tell.

Conversations: Sufis

Last Sunday I hoped the tram with some friends and headed for the periphery of the city. Istanbul neighborhoods are generally crowded and dirty; this place was no exception. Buried a couple blocks from the tram station is what appears to be a typical family owned restaurant. But things are not often as they appear. A friend stumbled into on this gem of a place a few weeks ago, only to learn that the restaurant is run by a Sufi shiek and his family in order to support the publication of a major Sufi magazine.

All of this becomes more interesting when you know something about Sufis, and minorities more generally, in Turkey. The state officially recognizes three minority groups: Armenians, Jews and Orthodox Christians. Sunni groups receive state assistance (to build mosques for instance) and tax breaks; minority groups also get a few perks. But if you aren't Sunni, Armenian, Jewish or Orthodox, life is hard. Religious orders like the Alevis and Sufis -- aside from being harassed by the State -- have to raise money privately in order to build schools and mosques and none of these private donations are tax deductible. This particular Sufi community turned to kebab sales to raise funds.

Mustafa is my father's age, but looks much older. He invited us to his restaurant, enthusiastic to share his faith -- and kebab -- with strangers. In between inhalations of cigarette smoke, Mustafa ruminated on Sufism and Islam. What impressed me most was this man's love for people. The version of Islam he explained is based entirely on choice, on free will: men and women learn about their faith and eventually choose a specific tarikat, or "school." This choice, according to Mustafa, represents an enlightenment, a self-actualization that happens in a moment but grows for years. Sufis marry across tarikats and encourage their children to seek their own path.

What was really beautiful is the inclusiveness that Mustafa not only preaches but so obviously believes in. Sufis consider their religion the synthesis of a long history of ideas and revelations -- Abraham is as much a part of this development as Buddha (his words!). Of course, Mohamed is the big show, the trunk of this tree. But he is supported by the Prophets of the world's great religions, impossible to sustain without their foundation.

If someone had tried to pull me into an "inter-faith dialogue" a month ago, I would have laughed at them. To be honest, I'm not even comfortable saying that phrase -- inter-faith dialogue -- out loud. In my experience, religious people are generally more interested in preaching than learning. But Mustafa came to us as a teacher, a man without an agenda. A damn fine inter-faith dialoguer.