This section describes the new government’s first efforts to censor the press, resulting in a showdown between Atatürk’s founding director of the press office, Zekeriya Sertel
Period 3: The Return Home
Zekeriya Sertel working at his desk
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In Ankara
“….Atatürk understood why the Ottoman Empire had collapsed. Imperialism from abroad and reactionism at home were the main reasons, and Atatürk had been fighting against both since the war had been won. He’d already mapped out many reforms in his head, and now he wanted to implement them, step by step. And he knew that the surest path to development lay in securing economic independence. From the very first day he tried to implement his progressive ideas, he came under attack – not just from reactionaries, but even from his own revolutionary comrades. The likes of Kazım Karabekir and Ali Fuat Pasha2 as well as intellectuals like Halide Edip and Adnan Adıvar3 were nervous about his political moves. |
They felt that Atatürk’s desire to abolish the sultanate was fuelled by his ambition to become president himself, and they could not grasp the social ramifications and progressive nature of such a step. This was the atmosphere at home upon our return. My older daughter, Sevim, was six, and my younger daughter, Yıldız, was still a babe in arms. We didn’t know what to do with our lives. I wanted to move to a village and found a community organization, but like any dreamy socialist, I had no idea how to do this. Like all youngsters fresh out of college, I was living in a fantasy world. All I knew was that I wanted to be useful to the newly emerging Turkey. Zekeriya went to Ankara before me. A week or so later, I received a telegraph informing me that he’d been appointed to the Directorate General of the Press”.4
4TN: Through this appointment, Zekeriya Sertel became the founding director of the Turkish Directorate General of the Press
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Returning to Istanbul
“….I received a letter from Zekeriya telling me he would be returning to Istanbul as well. He had resigned his post in protest against press censorship. It had started with a news item published in the Istanbul papers, proclaiming that the press would soon be censored. Zekeriya had issued a denial at once. Before long, he had been summoned by Ferit Bey, the Interior Minister. ‘How do you know,’ Ferit Bey had asked him, ‘that the government does not intend to impose censorship?’ Zekeriya had responded by handing in his resignation, stating that he ‘could not be the press director of a democratic regime while imposing censorship’. After six months of effort, the Ankara experience had ended in failure for both of us. I had returned from America with such fanciful dreams. I had prepared to work for the good of the people in the heart of Anatolia. But now, the dream was over and reality showed us its true face. Zekeriya told me he would return to journalism, his actual profession, and proposed that I work with him. This meant abandoning my own vocation. But what could I achieve in that field anyway? Teach sociology at a school? I wanted to work in a broader setting, grapple with social issues and disseminate my learning and ideas. Journalism seemed a suitable outlet for this.”
In Ankar
In this edited section, Sertel paints a vivid picture of deeply divided factions that clashed as they framed the founding constitution, an unresolved schism over power and rights that continues to haunt the nation almost a century later.
The Sertels returned from the USA right around the time the Treaty of Lausanne was ratified in July 1923, and mere months before the Republic of Turkey was proclaimed. They found themselves in the midst of a tremendous sociopolitical paradigm shift, where, in effect, a new country was being created.
The Sertel returned to Turkey in 1923 after studying at Columbia University in New York City on scholarships—Zekeriya at the School of Journalism and Sabiha at the School of Social Work. They were charged with bringing home cutting-edge knowledge, along with personal connections to the USA. Zekeriya was summoned to Ankara, the newly designated capital, to serve as the founding director of the Turkish Directorate General of the Press. Sabiha soon followed with their young daughters and was plunged into a politically charged atmosphere as factions clashed over writing a constitution for the young nation. A central debate that continues to haunt Turkey almost a century later: how much power should the president wield?
The Sertel returned to Turkey in 1923 after studying at Columbia University in New York City on scholarships—Zekeriya at the School of Journalism and Sabiha at the School of Social Work. They were charged with bringing home cutting-edge knowledge, along with personal connections to the USA. Zekeriya was summoned to Ankara, the newly designated capital, to serve as the founding director of the Turkish Directorate General of the Press. Sabiha soon followed with their young daughters and was plunged into a politically charged atmosphere as factions clashed over writing a constitution for the young nation. A central debate that continues to haunt Turkey almost a century later: how much power should the president wield?
“…Ankara itself was no more than a village. There were no trees, no dwellings to seek shelter in, and there was no water. Even the Grand National Assembly was just a two- storey building, no bigger than a provincial government office. The so-called Hay Market was a market with neither stores nor goods. The villagers pulled aside their carts in open spaces and slept on the ground next to their oxen. The inner streets were too narrow for even a single car to pass through. The locals lived in a district called Old Ankara, in wooden or tin structures built on top of hills. The only way to reach these houses was to scale the hills like goats. Old Ankara reminded me of the medieval towns that Evliya Çelebi describes in his Seyahatname [Book of Travels].5
New York and Ankara were truly polar opposites, and I’d just gone from one pole to the other. I already knew of the çarıks worn by villagers, but I was struck by their copiously patched cardigans and baggy trousers. Women wrapped in black çarşafs and thin cloth towels, only exposing their eyes, wandered the streets like bogeymen. Garbage piled up on street corners, and I doubt if it was ever collected. Children with skinny legs and bulging bellies scuttled down the sidewalks like skeletons, begging for money. The stores were empty and the people tired from shouldering the weight of the war. Terrible poverty was evident at every turn.
It was these villagers, with their patched cardigans, men and women alike, who’d carried ammunition to the fronts and fought in the trenches. All of Anatolia had suffered the same devastation. Now, it was the revolution’s task to establish a new country, to carry this society from the Middle Ages to the present...6 “
“In Ankara, the foundations of a new, independent Turkey were being laid. All who’d joined the war at great personal cost were gathered there, around Atatürk. Meanwhile, in Istanbul, the caliph and his entourage of pashas, such as Izzet, Salih and Tevfik were living out their last days in charge of a ruined empire.
My surroundings were abuzz with the rumour that the new Turkey would be a republic. A new draft constitution was in the works. A constitutional commission, consisting of experts such as Ağaoğlu Ahmet and headed by the journalist Yunus Nadi Bey, had been charged with preparing the draft, and its meetings were frequently attended by Atatürk himself. Since Ankara had no proper buildings or halls to house the commission, the meetings were held at the train station, with the Turkish Hearth building reserved for the most important gatherings. The efforts expended here were just as worthy as the sacrifices on the battlefield. With the greatest self-denial, the revolutionaries were toiling to save the homeland.
Even during the war itself, a schism had emerged among the leaders of the struggle. They had tried to keep it a secret, but news had gotten out. Amidst the dangers of the War of Independence, it was said, Atatürk hadn’t sought agreement among those fighting for the cause. Instead, he’d made alliances with whoever was opposed to the sultan and the occupiers. And so, this anti-imperialist front had welcomed everyone from conservative pashas and extreme rightists to intellectuals with no idea of the new movement’s goals, from high-ranking bureaucrats to local notables and village landlords…”
Sertel describes how this schism resurfaced while writing the constitution. Critics feared a dictatorship, with Ataturk responding that he was granting himself greater powers to counter revolutionaries who couldn’t tolerate his revolutionary ideas. She concludes with the following exchange about the lack of protections in the proposed constitution such as land reform and workers’ rights.
My surroundings were abuzz with the rumour that the new Turkey would be a republic. A new draft constitution was in the works. A constitutional commission, consisting of experts such as Ağaoğlu Ahmet and headed by the journalist Yunus Nadi Bey, had been charged with preparing the draft, and its meetings were frequently attended by Atatürk himself. Since Ankara had no proper buildings or halls to house the commission, the meetings were held at the train station, with the Turkish Hearth building reserved for the most important gatherings. The efforts expended here were just as worthy as the sacrifices on the battlefield. With the greatest self-denial, the revolutionaries were toiling to save the homeland.
Even during the war itself, a schism had emerged among the leaders of the struggle. They had tried to keep it a secret, but news had gotten out. Amidst the dangers of the War of Independence, it was said, Atatürk hadn’t sought agreement among those fighting for the cause. Instead, he’d made alliances with whoever was opposed to the sultan and the occupiers. And so, this anti-imperialist front had welcomed everyone from conservative pashas and extreme rightists to intellectuals with no idea of the new movement’s goals, from high-ranking bureaucrats to local notables and village landlords…”
Sertel describes how this schism resurfaced while writing the constitution. Critics feared a dictatorship, with Ataturk responding that he was granting himself greater powers to counter revolutionaries who couldn’t tolerate his revolutionary ideas. She concludes with the following exchange about the lack of protections in the proposed constitution such as land reform and workers’ rights.
“While in Ankara, I closely followed the debates surrounding the Constitution and reforms. We lived right across from Mazhar Müfit Bey, the speaker of the People’s Party in the Assembly. He often told us about the parliamentary debates and his replies to the opposition.
One day, at a meeting in the Turkish Hearth building, I talked to Ağaoğlu Ahmet Bey, a member of the Constitutional Commission. I asked him what people meant when they called Turkey a classless society. He replied:
One day, at a meeting in the Turkish Hearth building, I talked to Ağaoğlu Ahmet Bey, a member of the Constitutional Commission. I asked him what people meant when they called Turkey a classless society. He replied:
I don’t get that one, either. They say the Turkish nation is one totality without classes. Well, every nation is a totality. But still, there are classes within it. A classless society can only exist under a socialist regime. But we aren’t drafting a socialist constitution or fostering a socialist community. The draft we are preparing stresses private property, free competition and free trade. This is a liberal constitution. All articles we have penned so far are built on this foundation.
Now, suddenly, people are talking about a classless society and statism.11 They want to see the principle of statism in the Constitution. But this goes against all the articles we have ratified so far. We had a long conversation about this with Mustafa Kemal. Finally, he got angry and said, ‘I want state socialism.’ I reminded him that this Constitution had been drafted not according to the principles of socialism, but those of liberalism. I said there was no need to enshrine statism in the Constitution. I told him that if he favoured populism, he could achieve it through democracy. And if he wanted the state to control public corporations and regulate profits, he could do that within a capitalist system. But I just can’t get through to him. |
10TN: Sertel is referring to the May 27, 1960, military coup in Turkey.
11TN: State control over the economy.
11TN: State control over the economy.
This conversation between Ağaoğlu and Atatürk highlights the conditions under which the 1924 Constitution was drafted, and the difficulties Atatürk faced in making it a revolutionary document. To intellectuals like Ağaoğlu, a democratic bourgeois revolution simply meant translating the constitutions of Western nations and copying their institutions. They didn’t take local idiosyncrasies and social fabric into account. As a result, it was unclear what kind of revolution they had in mind.
Atatürk was surrounded on all sides by reactionaries, conservatives and liberals. The opposition was strongest in Istanbul. It included supporters of the sharia, those whose interests were threatened by the collapse of the sultanate, and conservative intellectuals who were afraid of the reforms. The Istanbul press criticized the new regime and attacked Mustafa Kemal. Those who were scared of his strong personality wanted to strip him of his powers. And even many intellectuals who supported him failed to grasp the significance of his six principles – republicanism, statism, populism, laicism, revolutionism and nationalism. These were the strenuous conditions under which he was working.
All these matters of revolution and affairs of the state were freely discussed at Atatürk’s dinner table. At this table, Mustafa Kemal listened to everyone’s thoughts and allowed his own sharp mind to draw the necessary conclusions. He made decisions accordingly and implemented them at once. No one was able to withstand his force. But the whole process was very abstract. There was no effort to analyse the objective and subjective conditions existing in the country, or to grasp the country’s economic structure through scientific research.
The Ankara of 1923 was tossed to and fro between such diametrically opposed ideas. The Turkish people, in the meantime, were unaware of all these talks and deliberations. The new state would be a republic, but this was only discussed behind closed doors. Then, on 29 October, the republic was sprung on the public – practically overnight – and enshrined in the Constitution. The proclamation hit the nation like a bombshell. In one fell swoop, this change to Turkey’s state system destroyed the foundations of the sultanate underlying the Ottoman Empire and laid the groundwork for the new Republic of Turkey.
Atatürk was surrounded on all sides by reactionaries, conservatives and liberals. The opposition was strongest in Istanbul. It included supporters of the sharia, those whose interests were threatened by the collapse of the sultanate, and conservative intellectuals who were afraid of the reforms. The Istanbul press criticized the new regime and attacked Mustafa Kemal. Those who were scared of his strong personality wanted to strip him of his powers. And even many intellectuals who supported him failed to grasp the significance of his six principles – republicanism, statism, populism, laicism, revolutionism and nationalism. These were the strenuous conditions under which he was working.
All these matters of revolution and affairs of the state were freely discussed at Atatürk’s dinner table. At this table, Mustafa Kemal listened to everyone’s thoughts and allowed his own sharp mind to draw the necessary conclusions. He made decisions accordingly and implemented them at once. No one was able to withstand his force. But the whole process was very abstract. There was no effort to analyse the objective and subjective conditions existing in the country, or to grasp the country’s economic structure through scientific research.
The Ankara of 1923 was tossed to and fro between such diametrically opposed ideas. The Turkish people, in the meantime, were unaware of all these talks and deliberations. The new state would be a republic, but this was only discussed behind closed doors. Then, on 29 October, the republic was sprung on the public – practically overnight – and enshrined in the Constitution. The proclamation hit the nation like a bombshell. In one fell swoop, this change to Turkey’s state system destroyed the foundations of the sultanate underlying the Ottoman Empire and laid the groundwork for the new Republic of Turkey.