“The Most Beautiful Arabia in the World”

It is particularly significant, in terms of understanding how the world positions Türkiye, to examine how each of the camps traditionally classified as right and left within the country define themselves during moments of political crisis. For example, anyone even slightly familiar with recent political history knows that what is referred to as the “right” has, from the outset, consisted of various forms of Unionism. According to an oft-cited anecdote, when one of the gendarmerie privates who came to arrest him after the coup tried to take him by the arm, Bayar is said to have remarked: “Son, you can’t take me anywhere. I was a committee member before your father was even born. I’m coming because I choose to.” Indeed, the fact that Bayar—the only member of the political elite held hostage on Yassıada who was pardoned due to old age and survived—lived for another 25 years confirms this. Therefore, it is hardly surprising that all political elements now known as right-wing have sought to find a place in political life as “right-handed forms of Unionism.”

What the Left—being a universal structure—has sought to construct by leaning on Turkish identity corresponds to a kind of political refrain that has been debated within the formation known as the Left in Türkiye since the very beginning, yet one that has been carefully avoided from ever being made explicit. Indeed, when it first emerged, the Left—put forward by Sultan Galiyev as a model of Turkish socialism—openly declared what it had compromised when, under the dominance of Unionism that came to rule the country, it transformed into the “center-left.” Its maturation through the efforts of Hikmet Kıvılcımlı represented both a return to its essence and a reaction against Kemalism. In fact, in the 1965 elections, the main slogan of the Workers’ Party of Türkiye (TİP) was “Enough of being slaves to other men!” This slogan marked the rise of a uniquely Turkish leftist movement, one shaped by the specific conditions of Türkiye and the unique dynamics of Turkish society. However, the anxiety this slogan created among imperialist circles triggered a major offensive against the Left. Contrary to popular belief, this move was not carried out by Türkeş’s Republican Peasants’ Nation Party, but rather by certain actors from within the Left itself—figures who also claimed to be leftists. Kıvılcımlı, the intellectual father of the slogan “Enough of being slaves to other men!”, was arrested after being identified as part of the committeeist wing of the party. Şevket Süreyya, who came to represent this faction, was expelled from the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Türkiye (TKP); and Vedat Nedim Tör, who had been appointed as general secretary, resigned and handed over the party’s archives to the police, leading to his arrest. He was released only twelve years later under an amnesty issued by Menderes. Kıvılcımlı was among the most outspoken critics of Mustafa Kemal and Kemalism in the 1930s. Yet despite all his efforts after his release from prison, he was he was never admitted into the TKP again. What is particularly noteworthy, however, is that Kıvılcımlı was arrested during the 1957 Eyüp rally for “using religion for political purposes.” This point is important for several reasons. First, it serves as a meaningful indicator of where the ruptures that brought the Left to its current state first began. For the end of servitude to man is a reminder of to whom true servitude must be offered, and it reveals the direction that the Turkish nation has chosen for itself. It is noteworthy that even when framed within a leftist discourse, the possibility—offered through a leftist party—of being a servant to God, which would ensure non-servitude to anyone else, and moreover, the possibility of “not compromising with the capitalist system,” in other words, “not becoming a plaything in the hands of the infidel,” was rejected. At this point, the path of the Left split irreversibly from that of the National Democratic Revolution (MDD), a group of leftists who tried to continue by reconciling with Kemalism.

The second major rupture in the trajectory of the Left occurred with the establishment of the Federation of Thought Clubs (1965). Within this structure, two opposing tendencies emerged: on one side were the founding members who still believed that reconciliation with capitalism was impossible and that determining a direction independent of the people’s demands and local components was equally unfeasible; on the other side were those who argued that the future of the Left could only be secured by aligning with leftist elements embedded in the global system, and that it was impossible to move forward without reconciling with Kemalism. Ultimately, for the imperialist actors seeking to rid Türkiye of the Left, supporting the latter group and eliminating the former became a matter of life and death. Indeed, the marginalization of İsmet Özel and the appointment or promotion of individuals such as Kutlay Ebiri, Cengiz Çandar, and Şahin Alpay can only be explained through this lens. The backgrounds and current positions of the latter two clearly reveal, beyond any doubt, what was intended through such changes. Çandar’s own words, in fact, are invaluable in clarifying the role he played:

“At a meeting of the Socialist Thought Club—regarded as the most important ‘intellectual center’ of the leftist youth movement in Türkiye in the second half of the 1960s—a committee was formed assigning three people, considered the most competent in theory, or at least perceived as such by others, the task of preparing bulletins and brochures aimed at recruiting students to socialism. These three people were Baskın Oran, Kutlay Ebiri—who would later assume significant roles at the World Bank—and myself.”

The fact that Ebiri went on to hold ‘important positions’ at the World Bank after graduation is telling enough of the kind of Left that was being envisioned. Likewise, while Ataol—one of the founders of the journal Halkın Dostları (Friends of the People)—asserted his presence by standing behind the Treaty of Lausanne, İsmet Özel expressed himself through the İstiklal Marşı (National Anthem); both instances offer a clear sense of what kind of Left was desired.

It is no coincidence that other formations which emerged under the banner of the Left sought to continue on the path of Talat Aydemir or the Madanoğlu Junta. Similarly, it should come as no surprise that Ecevit—positioned as the heir apparent of the Kemalist structure that had situated itself within the center-left—was primarily recognized for his fluent English and the interviews he gave to the BBC. At that time, within the Workers’ Party of Türkiye (TİP)—which stood as the stronghold of the Left—two entirely different currents stood in opposition. On one side, Mehmet Ali Aybar was pursuing a locally rooted Left and a vision of socialism open to the people of Türkiye; on the other, Çetin Altan and his circle had entered into a covert competition with the Right over who would best embody the fortress of Kemalism. In the end, while Aybar was purged from the Communist Party of Türkiye, under Altan’s hand, the stronghold of the Left was repeatedly conquered by Kemalism and, consequently, by the bourgeoisie. The fact that the TİP of that era has long since faded away—and, unlike its Western counterparts, cannot even serve as a poor imitation of the petty bourgeoisie—is no coincidence.

Following the Sivas incident, Aziz Nesin’s statement to the effect of, “If these fundamentalists get even more arrogant, we’ll call the army to discipline them,” is meaningful in two respects. First, it reveals what position whatever remained of the Left aspired to, and marks the culmination of this long trajectory. Second, it reflects how the Left’s partial reconciliation with Kemalism was adopted as a temporary tactic, which ultimately resulted in the conversion of the Left’s entire ideological alphabet into Kemalism through an attempt to align with the system.

For the Islamist movement in Türkiye, the first lesson to be drawn from this is that even a temporary reconciliation with Kemalism amounts to an accommodation with committee-style politics and the Unionist tradition—which, in turn, inevitably leads to the liquidation of Islamism. From the very moment Unionist committeeism first emerged, its ultimate goal was to strip Islam of its position as the dominant element in these lands, and eventually to eliminate it altogether. It is no coincidence that various individuals who once played a role in diverting the Left from its natural course later resurfaced under liberal or social democratic identities, offering Islamists a reconciliation process through soft Kemalism. In fact, their efforts to devise various governance models and to create a system that would consolidate executive power in a single hand were all aimed at this very objective. That those who orchestrated the collapse of the Left and lent their support to that cause would, in turn, attempt to orchestrate the collapse of Islamism through reconciliation with Kemalism is hardly surprising.

At this point, perhaps it is best to leave the final word to one of Türkiye’s poets, Turgut Uyar. His second book, The Most Beautiful Arabia in the World, published after his collection My Türkiye, was, in his imagination, also about Türkiye. In its most powerful poem, The Night with the Deer, he wrote:
“Yet there was nothing to fear around
Everything was made of nylon, that’s all
It didn’t matter that we were deceived
So long as we were the ones who remembered what everyone else had forgotten.”

The truth the poet recognized before anyone else was this: neither the Right in Türkiye possessed any serious political claim related to Islamic identity or represented a political movement to be feared (The most beautiful Arabia in the world is still Türkiye—because it was never going to become Arabia), nor did the Left, which showed a tendency to align with the established order, demonstrate any intention of giving up the comfort of self-deception. For in the end, both were knotted in committee-style politics.