Scholars such as Fernand Braudel and Halil Incalcik have long made us aware of Turkey's illustrious history. Until very recently, however, there has been little attention paid to modern Turkey since the end of World War I. Then, the views of the victorious European Powers, namely Great Britain and France, were characterized by a combination of arrogance and ignorance. One writer remarked in late 1918 that
[t]he presence of the Ottoman Turk as a sovereign ruler in Europe is one of the standing anomalies of modem history. That an Asiatic nomad of a low and unprogressive type should ever have succeeded in planting himself among the settled and civilized peoples of the West, and should have gained possession of the great city of the Caesars, is astonishing enough. That he should have been able to maintain himself in Constantinople for four and a half centuries, and that he should still continue to exercise lordship over Christian Europeans, are phenomena which, though familiar, are so strange that they deserve consideration and demand explanation.1
Such opinions were quite common as the "Sick Man of Europe" lurched toward its end. International discussion was not just about what physical shape the new Turkey would take. Turkish domestic politics, particularly the social role of religion, fascinated onlookers, and a British journal of that period, The New Europe, published a variety of articles on those subjects.2
In retrospect, it almost seems that the European Powers did not know what they wanted to do with the "Eastern Question." That such uncertainty existed is not a surprise, for it was rooted in Europe's perception of Turkey. Rather than an international actor in its own right, the Ottoman Empire was seen as an object of European diplomacy, a playing field on which others' objectives would be pursued. Nowhere perhaps is this better seen than in a speech in the House of Lords in 1878 by Benjamin Disraeli, Lord Beaconsfield. In explaining the Treaty of Berlin, he noted that "the course we have taken will arrest the great evils which are destroying Asia Minor and the equally rich countries beyond" (emphasis added). There is no room within that perspective for the innate dynamism of Ottoman society or for the forces of reform already stirring below the surface of a decaying empire. Although his words were born of a romantic imperialism, Disraeli did not envisage the Ottomans as political actors. The solution to the problems in Turkey lay in London, not Constantinople. Without denying British interests in the preservation of a Turkish barrier to Russia, he believed that "the time had come when we ought to consider whether we could not do something which would improve the general condition of the dominions of the Sultan in Asia" (emphasis added). Disraeli's view of the Ottoman polity was entropic, with the loss of energy leading to further anarchy, a problem that Britain had to arrest. Corruption, incompetence, brutality and lethargy were typical of the Ottoman leadership. When the "Sick Man" roused himself from his Oriental lassitude, it was only to commit outrageous acts such as the Bulgarian massacres of 1878 and the Armenian killings during the 1914-18 war or, more commonly, simply to retreat in the face of Western advance.
That image of the "Sick Man" changed with the arrival of Kemal Ataturk and his government's advocacy of nationalism, secularism and Westernization. His program for reform in the Turkish rump of the former Ottoman lands meant that the negative attention garnered during the empire's protracted decline dissipated. In The Turkish Labyrinth, James Pettifer argues that a new myth was constructed, one based on what Ataturk and his followers wanted Turkey to become, not what it was during his lifetime or is today.
Given the number of recent publications focused on Turkey, it might be argued that the "Eastern problem" has returned. But the question is, for whom is Turkey a problem? It seems that for most people Turkey is still wrapped in its Ottoman past, illustrated by portraits of fierce janissaries, whirling dervishes and exotic (or erotic) images of the harem. Robert Kaplan argues similarly when he notes that the "encompassing sense of Turkish history is the dream-burden of the Turkish middle and upper classes, and foreigners like myself who find it necessary to have an idea of Turkey.3 However, Turks must live daily with the consequences of their history. For many of the rest of us, the image of Turkey is almost cartoon-like: colorful, animated, but not real. The result is that, while many non-Turks might know about Ataturk and his secular agenda, the presuppositions they draw upon are likely to be pre-republican. The travails of the modern republic, its successes and complexities, weaknesses and abuses, are simply not considered.
This simple set of images is now under assault. The rising profile of the Islamist Welfare (Refah) party has challenged the comfortable notions of Turkish political stability and its Western alignment that are part of Ataturk's myth. Those interested in modem Turkey are now concerned that the secular regime of the past seven decades is coming to an end. A 1996 report by a major American think-tank noted that
[t]he Turkey we have known for the past 75 years is entering a period of rapid and profound transition whose dimensions are not yet clear. Some observers might conclude that the "real" Turkey is just now emerging, that the Turkey we have claimed to understand for so long is an aberration. This may be an extreme interpretation of Turkey's evolution, yet it is undeniable that Turkey now displays characteristics that were absent from the previous political spectrum.4
One does not need to accept the notion that there is a primordial national identity reemerging to believe that Turkey is more than the Kemalist myth. In her poignant travelogue, Mary Lee Settle offers a more elegant interplay of time, culture and identity:
It is not that they are frozen in time, far from it. They simply have, from mother to daughter and father to son over the centuries, kept ways they have found useful. They belie our naive idea that when kingdoms replaced kingdoms, or ideas replaced ideas, they somehow wiped out the past. This did not happen - not in building and not in thought. They may have changed the old patterns, but they have not obliterated them.5
Whatever the cause, the events since the municipal elections in spring 1994, which saw sweeping gains for Refah, have led many to wonder just how much we understand, or ever really understood, Turkey.
A theme that resonates throughout Pettifer's work is that Turkey is not as modem as has been commonly held, that Turkish politics are not as democratic, nor its society as secular, as we have been led to believe. But the problem is more than just challenges to a prevailing ideology. The myth of Ataturk's Turkey is beginning to crack as a crisis of Turkish national identity becomes increasingly apparent. As one might expect, Americanization and modem consumerism are identified as having destroyed much traditional culture. However, Kemalism is itself blamed for having contributed to a weak identity. Ataturk's break with the Ottoman heritage, it is argued, detracts from today's political discourse and presents a fictionalized past that is designed only to support the current regime. At a more popular level, Ataturk's intensive secularism has yielded a spiritual vacuum in a traditionally religious culture. The result has been the creation of a people who are seeking a more substantial identity than Kemalism and finding much that is attractive in contemporary Islam.
The "new Islam" draws support from a broad section of society. The strength of Refah in urban centers such as Istanbul and Ankara is quite understandable. Yet in discussing the consequences, Pettifer pays little attention to the profound transformation underway in Turkey, which has seen the country move from a largely rural to an urbanized society. Here, again, Kaplan proves useful. For him, Islam has captured the slums in which the Left once held sway. As leftist ideologies lost their legitimacy following the collapse of the USSR, people looked elsewhere and found Refah. Good social scientists know this coincidence is not sufficient evidence of causality. However, if one looks at Istanbul (population 10 million) and its growth of 450,000 people each year, most of whom are arriving from more traditional rural environments, it is perfectly reasonable to draw such a connection. Istanbul's first Refah mayor, Tayyip Erdogan, a possible successor to party leader Necmettin Erbakan, rose to office on what Kaplan terms a "social-economic revolution far more important than any change in government."6
Poverty alone is not the explanation for Islam's popular appeal. Like conservative movements elsewhere, Refah has offered answers to questions that more liberal parties were unable or unwilling to confront. That this is happening is not altogether surprising. The social atomism of Western liberalism, imported by Ataturk, is often even challenged in the countries from which it sprang. One can only begin to appreciate the sense of bewilderment such values must create in such a traditional atmosphere as rural Turkey or the city tenements, inflated as they are by waves of landless peasants. The search for social comfort is a basic human goal, and the sense of being alone in modem society is not exclusive to the lower social strata. Pettifer argues that some intellectuals, adrift in the emptiness that describes much of today's culture, supported Refah because it seemed to be the only political organization that sought to recapture elements of Turkish culture that have been lost. The mosques, centers of radicalism elsewhere in the Islamic world, became refuges from the "isms" attacking Turkish solidarity, including Kemalism. Hurt by poverty and failing to see their lot improved in the ways they expected, women have also been supportive of the new Islam. This new conservatism is due to a desire for an order that its members understand and support.
Yet if we accept Pettifer's claims about the strength of the "new Islam," the obvious question that springs to mind is why the Refah-led coalition government was unable to resist the pressures to abandon power in June 1997? The most obvious reason was to avoid a showdown with the armed forces. The fear of a military coup was warranted, given that many senior parliamentary deputies, as well as a large section of the Turkish media, believed that only the intervention of the Turkish Armed Forces could stop Refah from implementing its Islamist agenda.
Another plausible reason for the fall of Refah might be that that government's support was never as solid as some thought. It is unlikely that all of those in the middle class who voted for Erbakan supported his agenda. It is a common problem in democratic systems that "the best of the worst" is often the candidate chosen by the electorate. The enormous levels of corruption in Turkish politics have led to an equally high degree of public cynicism. The Susurluk scandal - in which a parliamentary deputy belonging to Refah's coalition partner, the True Path party (DYP), was killed in a car accident along with a well-known fugitive - underscores this problem. The accusations of financial mismanagement directed at the True Path leader and former premier, Tansu Çiller, only further fueled the cynicism of the political leadership. Throughout the last half of 1997, Istanbul witnessed the backlash, as the public appealed for a clean society. Turning off the lights in their homes and banging pots and pans, the general public signaled their exasperation with the self-centered machinations of the country's political leadership.
It is true that there was a hard core of support for Refah, but the actual size of that base remains very difficult to judge. In a September 1997 poll, only 65 percent of those who supported the party in 1995 stated that they would continue to do so in a new parliamentary election.7 The same poll indicated that among the reasons given for supporting Refah, Islam may be only the backdrop, not the most important: "corruption and bribery, 19.2 percent; the battle against inflation, 17.4 percent; unfair distribution of income, 12.3 percent; unemployment, 12.2 percent; lack of security for the future, 10 percent." It seems reasonable to assume, therefore, that Refah may have drawn strength from a protest vote against the very evident inadequacies of the mainstream parties.
After all, Erbakan never won a parliamentary majority. Refah formed the government only after the collapse of the Mother path coalition (Motherland and True Path parties) caused by the personal political squabbling of the two leaders, current premier Mesut Yilmaz and Mrs. Çiller. Moreover, some DYP deputies who had grudgingly supported Çiller's coalition with Refah were never happy about her inability (or unwillingness) to actively oppose Erbakan's agenda. Many thought that Çiller had struck a Faustian bargain with Erbakan whereby Refah would prevent a parliamentary inquiry into her financial dealings, and she, in tum, would acquiesce to the Islamist program. In the weeks before Refah's fall on June 18, 1997, Çiller's DYP caucus suffered numerous defections, as those deputies distanced themselves from the coalition government and the accusations of corruption leveled against Çiller.
Given Refah's recent (January 16, 1998) proscription by the Constitutional Court, time alone will tell if any new Islamist party will obtain the same or greater levels of electoral support. But, even if the newly formed Virtue party does succeed in holding the majority of Refah supporters, it will still not have sufficient electoral numbers to form a government without building another coalition. Given the hostility of the armed forces' leadership to Refah, it is difficult to imagine that any of the mainstream parties would be willing to link themselves with the Islamist agenda of Refah's successor.
All that said, it is important not to underrate the changes Turkey is currently undergoing, and Pettifer's book is very good at making the reader aware of these. The growing public profile of Islam in Turkish society predates the political turmoil of the past few years. Indeed, the latest resurgence of Islam was sponsored originally by the military as a means of reconciling a fractured nation following the coup in 1980. Since then, the growth of Islam has been very public. Religious publications and media, the creation of an Islamist business organization (MUSIAD), compulsory religious education, and the building of mosques throughout the country testify to this growth. In fact, the democratization of Turkish politics has also assisted in bring Islam into the open as politicians have been required to address (or, perhaps more accurately, play to) the religious aspirations of the electorate.8 Some efforts are now underway, particularly in limiting (if not removing) the influence of the Imam schools. It is difficult to believe, however, that the Islamist influence can be so easily contained.
The re-Islamicization of Turkish society and the evidence for that process is, therefore, quite evident. But does that mean that all of Turkish society is about to be enwrapped in a green banner? Do the changes underway inevitably lead to an Islamicized, if not an Islamic, republic? In Pettifer's book, the answers to these questions are never made explicit, although he seems to be suggesting that the momentum in Turkey to recover its pre-republican heritage is building. This trend is obviously propelled by the tremendous economic disparities in the country. The poor, the urban squatters, the intellectuals and many conservatives all now see Islam answering the questions life makes so difficult. As Pettifer notes, ''The revolution can be made in small ways without a major confrontation with the state and the army"(p.48), and Refah gained millions of supporters by its careful attention to the basic needs of the ordinary people.
Nevertheless, perhaps we should not become too exercised about these developments. Over thirty years ago, Bernard Lewis wrote that ''the deepest Islamic roots of Turkish life and culture are still alive, and the ultimate identity of Turk and Muslim in Turkey is still unchallenged."9 As in its provision of a more traditional value system, it is possible to see Refah tilling a gap that the Turkish authorities cannot. Islam is addressing a perceived need by a large segment of society for balance. One Turkish academic noted that her country "has gone so far in the Kemalist direction that many people think it's time for some balance in the other direction," and remarked on the need for a "synthesis of secularism and Islam."10 It is this quest that constitutes the essential tension in Turkey's future, the confrontation between those who see Kemalist ideology as fundamental to the Turkish state and the not inconsiderable number who believe that Islam offers better answers to some of the problems of modem life.
Pettifer seems reluctant to lead his reader to a conclusion that would suggest an Algeria-like scenario developing in Turkey. Such a concern is not unwarranted. In 1993, in Sivas, 37 secular intellectuals were burned to death in their hotel by a mob angered by their anti-Islamic views.11 This is an isolated incident, so far. At a more political level, Erbakan and other Refah leaders openly talked about their party's Islamist principles ruling Turkey. Indeed, the Refah leader once referred to the party as an "Islamic Jihad Army." In early February 1997, at a gathering in the city of Sincan, Refah supporters enthusiastically cheered the Iranian ambassador's call for the imposition of the Sharia. The armed forces responded the very next day by sending a column of armored vehicles through the city's main center and forced the recall of the ambassador. Since then, the Turkish armed forces have altered the national-security doctrine, establishing the international threat posed by so-called reactionary (i.e., Islamic and national-separatist) elements as the most pressing. The military high command has also frequently stated that it will not permit Turkey to go the way of Algeria, suggesting that the image is in the thoughts of senior commanders. But what is the likelihood of such an occurrence? At present, it seems improbable. By the grudging acceptance of its banning, Refah has yet again demonstrated its willingness to "play the political game" by the rules. Moreover, Turkish Islam has, by all accounts, always been heavily influenced by mysticism, expressed in the great dervish orders that have also become more visible.12 This type of religion appears far less stark and violence-prone than other Middle Eastern derivations of Islam. If, however, the forces of secularism adamantly oppose any compromises with Islamic political forces, it is possible that a more radical strain might emerge.
With the events of June 1997 in mind, when the military forced Refah from office, one might ask what role the Turkish armed forces play in Pettifer's portrait? Overall, it is not a positive one. For supporters of the current regime, the military is a necessary political firewall against the subversion of the existing political order. Four times (1960, 1971, 1980 and 1997), it has intervened to oust a government, either for inadequacies or because, as in 1960 and 1997, it was actively promoting political Islam. Pettifer's view of the armed forces is, however, far more critical. He criticizes them for being too detached from Turkish society and notes that they "have inherited some of the traditional Ottoman military's aristocratic disdain for any kind of commercial or business activity" (p. 18). He argues that their social status is largely undeserved, as they have never been involved in any serious test ''where the defence of their country was at stake" (p. 64). Lastly, he views the form of national identity being taught in the barracks as "conformist, thuggish and virtually racist and Fascist" (p. 66). In other words, the Turkish armed forces are too undemocratic, too powerful and far too politicized.
Pettifer's description of the Turkish military is of some worth. Alone among the NATO allies, they are largely insulated from effective civilian control. They are, in effect, a state within a state, enjoying high social prestige and obtaining the allocation of substantial public resources. (Currently, the Turkish armed forces are following a massive 30-year modernization program worth $150 billion.) Their political power derives from their reputation for discipline and commitment, as well as a constitutionally-mandated oversight function that is provided by the National Security Council (MGK). Under Article 118 of the current constitution, the MGK is responsible for the "existence and independence of the state, [and] the integrity and indivisibility of the country." It is difficult to imagine what types of public activities might not fall under such a sweeping mandate, if the MGK so wished. Moreover, the armed forces have a clear majority of votes on the council. Chaired by the president, five of the eight members are senior military commanders: the chief of the General Staff, and the four force commanders (Anny, Air Force, Navy and Gendarme). The other three members are the premier, and the ministers of foreign affairs and internal affairs. It was through the MOK that Erbakan was forced from office in June 1997. Responsible only to the constitution, which they interpret, the armed forces are largely able to set the terms of their own relationship with the country's civilian authorities. As a result, any government must always take into account the wishes of the military commanders.
For those of us who live in one of the Anglo-American democracies, it is difficult not to be somewhat unsettled by such sweeping powers in the hands of the military. Both the British and American civil-military traditions are rooted in a profound distrust of standing armies. Indeed, liberal democratic civil-military relations are so much a part of the political culture of our countries, that it is often difficult to consider the legitimacy or necessity of other approaches. But other systems do exist, and they are a product of very different historical experiences.
If one steps back, it quickly becomes clearer that the role of the Turkish armed forces is not so different from what they have been for centuries. Ottoman sultans, even Suleyman the Magnificent (1520-66), relied on their armies to govern, and several were toppled by the famous and once-feared Janissary Corps.13 Moreover, if the armed forces were among the most conservative and reactionary institutions in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, they were frequently also the engine for change within the Ottoman world. The efforts of the reforming sultans of the nineteenth century focused on the military, with the result that a whole generation of officers was created dedicated to the "salvation of their state and empire."14 Western observers even welcomed the decision of the Young Turks and the army to overthrow Abdulhamid II (1876-1908), "a Sultan of the olden past placed amidst modem surroundings," as one contemporary Canadian described him.15 The "progressive" role performed by the armed forces was also embraced at that time by reform-minded Turks:
It was the army, as it is scarcely necessary to state, which secured to the people of the Ottoman Empire the constitutional regime which they now enjoy. Officers and men in various army corps have sworn fidelity to the Constitution, and they will certainly defend the rights of constitutional Turkey against all violations, whether such violations come from within or from without.16
Today, as in Ottoman times, there is a clear overlap in Turkey between military and administrative tasks. This has led one noted expert on modem Turkey, Feroz Ahmad, to ask the question if Turkey is a "military society"? But the role of the armed forces in politics today is as much a symptom as a cause, although Pettifer does not seem to recognize this. The paucity of political leadership in Turkey has led many to think that partisan goals have taken precedence over the national interest. This was particularly evident in 1996, when the Mother path coalition collapsed. But it is in this environment that the. military has come to believe, almost by default, that they best represent the nation. Today, the armed forces view the protection of the secular order bequeathed by Ataturk as a principal responsibility. Attacks on the regime, such as that for which Refah was condemned, represent a rejection of the republican tradition. Pettifer might very well be correct in saying that the military mind-set in Turkey is today manufacturing conspiracies, but the rise of political Islam and the absence of alternate civilian leaders will only reinforce the attitudes of those in the armed forces who are firmly committed to the regime.
It is a measure of how careful one must be in discussing Turkish affairs that, in his treatment of a supposedly monolithic organization such as the military, Pettifer must also qualify his remarks. If commitment to Kemalism is a hallmark of the professional officer corps, Pettifer also notes that military life is extremely difficult for ordinary service members. The unaccustomed discipline and the required obedience to a strict hierarchy can only breed a sense of surreal remoteness in the average serviceman's mind. This problem is undoubtedly magnified many times for the unsophisticated conscript, whose background lies in one of Turkey's innumerable rural villages. It is in this context that Pettifer's comment that "[i]t is not uncommon to see fellow soldiers reading the Koran in the barracks" (p. 54) deserves further study. How far has the new Islam penetrated the institution most dedicated to preventing an Islamic resurgence? In 1997, several officers were expelled from the armed forces for openly espousing Islamic beliefs. Although this may give some satisfaction to Kemalist officers, one is left to wonder what they were doing there in the first place, after years of professional military service. Moreover, the effectiveness over time of the armed forces as a firewall against sectarianism is questionable, particularly because it is a conscript army and must draw its troops from those sectors of society most avidly embracing the new Islam. As Mehmet Ali Birand noted, "[t]he Turkish Army is part of the Turkish people and its mirror image. As a result, the contradictions, the maladies and the backwardness that afflict Turkish society afflict the army too."17
If the book represents a serious effort to "educate" the West, there is also an undercurrent of anger, even disgust, with the state of affairs in Turkey today. Pettifer justifiably condemns the human-rights abuses that have frequently been identified by organizations such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch18 (p. 112), including the "secret police death-squads [that] operate with impunity in cities like Diyarbakir, Kars and Batman" (p. 63). He laments the absence of free speech, which, he argues, is "one of the most tenuous claims of Turkish governments" and points to threats of prosecution and the banning of publications as having created a climate in which such a liberty is impossible (p. 32). He even rejects the claim that women's rights have witnessed great progress under the current regime and notes that "it is indicative of the plight of many women that more women than men voted for the Refah party in the 1995 election" (p. 44). However, the vehemence of his criticism is such that there is a tendency to exaggerate the problems and, in so doing, undermine his argument. For example, he suggests that Turkish government surveillance is similar to levels attained by the notorious Stasi in the former East Germany, a statement that, while it might very well be accurate, must only be based on surmise (p. 60).
Pettifer is just as contentious when he writes that "[i]n political terms, power is equated with good: the fact that Turkey is "stable," allegedly secular, a pillar of the West, exonerates it from criticism of its internal, political abuses and human-rights violations" (p. 6). The implication is that Turkey has been protected from ever having to evolve by a veil of Western ignorance. In this, he is echoing Disraeli's belief that the West, and one assumes particularly the United States, should have sought to "improve the conditions" in Turkey. Pettifer overestimates the West's complacency and, at the same time, its comprehension of Turkish society. Quixotically, he ignores the fact that criticism of its human-rights record has plagued Turkey's relations with the United States and Western Europe. Admittedly, the focus of that negative attention has been Ankara's treatment of its Kurdish minority- "a cancer that is eating away at the heart of Turkish society'' (p. 122)-as one frequently witnesses in the European Parliament or the U.S. Congress. But it is unfair to say that Turkey's human-rights record has not acted as a serious inhibition on closer relations. And yet, as the previous discussion demonstrates, we must grant that Pettifer is correct when he asserts that stability did not call for the West to reappraise its basic assumptions about a country so geographically close and culturally distant - that is, until recently.
Last, Pettifer rightly notes that the collapse of East-West confrontation has hurt traditional Turkish foreign-policy interests, including the alignment with the West that played such an important part in the Kemalist myth. The strategic card used so well during the Cold War by Ankara can no longer be played with the assurance that it will receive support from putative allies. The decision by the European Union in December 1997 at Luxembourg to place Turkey at the bottom of the list of prospective members has seriously undermined Ankara's confidence, already troubled by a 30-year wait, that it will be invited to join. Indeed, Pettifer is probably correct when he says that the EU has never been serious about integrating Turkey and that Brussels cares little about the support such a policy would give to the secularist politicians in Turkey (p. 166). Refah always argued that the EU would never admit Turkey and that the country's future lay in a new effort for closer relations with the Muslim world. The Luxembourg Summit's decision will only harden the resolve of Refah supporters, further dividing Turkish society as to which direction the country should take.
The Turkish Labyrinth is a worthy read, although one must be aware of its weaknesses. While Pettifer has made a serious effort to fill the lacunae of Western knowledge about Turkey, he cannot escape from his own cultural envelope. Instead of accepting Turkey on its own terms, he approaches it with a set of criteria and measures the country, its history and people, against that list. These criteria are drawn from Western Europe, but Turkey is not a Western country. As a consequence, Turkey fails on many counts. Yet how many non-Western states would pass such a test? Pettifer's response would likely be that a country should be measured by the standards it purports to espouse, and therein lies the value of his book, biases and all. The Turkish Labyrinth is really about the weakening of the Kemalist myth in modern Turkey. Making his readers aware of that ongoing process is a valuable service.
1 F.J.C. Hearnshaw, "Turkey in Transition," The New Europe, Vol.9, No.105, 17 October 1918.
2 See, for example, Anonymous, "The Fate of the Ottoman Empire," (October 17, 1918); Arnold Toynbee, "Turkey in Transition," (January 15, 1920); W. Ormsby-Gore, "Constantinople and the Moslem Khalifate," (January 15, 1920), and; D.S. Margoliouth, "The Caliphate," (April 8, 1920).
3 Robert Kaplan, The Ends of the Earth, (New York: Vintage Books, 1997), p. 132.
4 Science Applications International Corporation, Turkey Futures Workshop - Final Report, (Washington DC, December 9, 1996), p. 4.
5 Mary Lee Settle, Turkish Reflections - A Biography of a Place, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1991), p. xvii.
6 Robert Kaplan. The Ends of the Earth, pp. 133-134.
7 "Turkish Poll Shows Refah Voters' Perceptions of Party,'' FBIS-WEU-97-258, September 15, 1997.
8 See this author's "Turkey -The Return of the Reluctant Generals?" Political Science Quarterly, Summer 1997, pp. 191-199.
9 Bernard Lewis, The Emergence of Modern Turkey, (Oxford University Press, 1961), p. 424.
10 Stephen Kinzer, "Secular Turks Alarmed by Resurgence of Religion," The New York Times, February 13, 1997.
11 Stephen Kinzer, "33 in Turkey Sentenced to Die for Killing 37 Secular Figures," The New York Times, December 3, 1997.
12 Bernard Lewis, The Emergence of Modern Turkey, pp. 404-405.
13 See Godfrey Goodwin, The Janissaries,(London: Saqi Books, 1997).
14 Feroz Ahmad, The Making of Modern Turkey, (New York: Routledge, 1993), p. 2.
15 Arthur Toronto, The Sword of Islam, (Toronto: Bradley-Garretson Co. Ltd, 1896), p. 82.
16 Halil Halid, "The Origin of the Revolt in Turkey,'' The Nineteenth Century and After, January June 1909, p. 755.
17 Mehmet Ali Birand, Shirts of Steel: An Anatomy of the Turkish Armed Forces, (London: I. B. Taurus, 1991), p. xv.
18 See Human Rights Watch/Helsinki, "Turkey - Torture and Mistreatment in Pre-Trial Detention by Anti-Terror Police," March 1997.