Internal displacement has replaced the flows of border-crossing refugees as the major form of forced migration across the world in the past two decades. International organizations seek to have a central role in providing assistance to internally displaced persons (IDPs) although this phenomenon comes under the traditional realm of state sovereignty, in contrast to the refugee regime, which is part of international law. The evolving international IDP regime has triggered policy and scholarly debates about various aspects of state responsibility and international assistance. On one hand, when states fail to provide protection to the displaced, the decision to take international action is often selective and depends to a large extent on the balance of geopolitical interests of powerful donor states. On the other hand, extant international humanitarian assistance practices also face criticism for having created new modes of power over displaced groups.

No ideology needs history so much as nationalism. History is indispensable to its romantic narrative, essentialist conceptual structure and apocalyptic claim to truth. Nationalist discourse is historicist; it relies on genealogy for the legitimation of the nationalist cause, on the historicization of the national origin for the affirmation of the self and the denial of the other. But history is also the Achilles heel of nationalism. Nationalist historical discourse is repeatedly denounced by historians for distorting the truth, misrepresenting the historical reality of the formation of nations and nation-states. Nationalist historians are criticized for being subjective, partisan and ideological by “objective” and seemingly non-ideological historians who likewise construct historical narratives by selecting and at times inventing historical subjects and historicizing their thoughts and actions. Many of the charges levelled against nationalist historiography concern the epistemology of empiricist historiography in general, and all historiography which is concerned with extracting the truth from given facts on the assumption that they are identical with the real signified by them is by definition empiricist. This is as true as the errors of nationalist historiography.

The aim of this study is to explore the nature of Turkish literary utopias written in the early republican period. As a study in history and literature, it contextualizes the ideal social order envisioned in these works. My main argument is twofold: First, I claim that these works reflect Kemalism as an ideal system. They presuppose that the present regime has in itself the dynamics that enables an ideal social order and that this ideal social order can be attained by getting rid of the practical irregularities that prevent a full-fledged realization of the present regime. With these presuppositions, they serve the efforts to turn Kemalism into a hegemonic discourse. Secondly, through a detailed analysis of these texts, I argue that Kemalism has not been a monolithic discourse, but rather that it contained different and sometimes competing currents.

Following the victory of the Kurdish party DTP (Demokratik Toplum Partisi, Democratic Society Party) in Turkey's southeastern provinces in the local elections of March 2009, Turkey witnessed the AKP (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, Justice and Development Party) government's Kurdish initiative, the closure of the victorious Kurdish party, and waves of arrests of Kurdish activists and politicians. This rush of action constituted a renewed effort to contain and roll back the political and societal influence of the Kurdish movement. But what is it exactly that the government and the state were attempting to contain, and why? This article considers the recent moves of the ruling AKP, the judiciary, and the Turkish Armed Forces in regard to the “Kurdish problem” in Turkey's southeast, interpreting them as different responses to the regional success of the Kurdish movement.

In the last decades of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Izmir experienced tremendous economic growth, mainly as a result of growth in the world economy. In addition, the French Revolution and the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars resulted in the collapse of French economic domination in the area. As a result, Ottoman minority merchants experienced an equally tremendous economic growth (Frangakis-Syrett, 1987, pp. 73-86). Britain replaced France as the principal trading partner of Izmir, while the economic growth of the port-city as well as that of the minority merchants continued strong. It was in this period of increasing commercial activity that the Anglo-Turkish Convention was signed between Great Britain and the Ottoman Empire on 16 August 1838 to come into effect in western Anatolia on March 1839. The Treaty, which subsequently was signed by all the European States as well as the United States and the Ottoman Empire, aimed at removing obstacles to free trade in the Empire for the merchants of these states. It was to achieve that by removing an array of local or additional duties paid for the export of Ottoman goods or the import and circulation of all other goods, manufactured or otherwise, and by setting a fixed rate of five percent duty on imports and twelve percent on exports—nine percent on purchasing at the place of growth and three percent on exportation.

The Turkish-German axis is not the first route that comes to mind when rethinking German cinema in a global perspective. Turks in German cinema have tended to be cast in one-dimensional roles, as victims on the margins of society, unable to communicate and integrate. After more than four decades of Turkish presence in Germany, can we finally observe a new trend in representation, focusing more on playful enactments, mutual mirroring, and border-crossings? In an era of increasing global mobility of people and media, questions about the status of transnational cultural productions by travelers, emigrants, and exiles have achieved a new intensity. Film critics, concomitantly, have begun to call for a new genre category, one which explodes the boundaries of “original” national cultures as well as those of cinematic conventions. This new genre is variously labeled “independent transnational cinema,” (Naficy, 1996) “postcolonial hybrid films” (Shohat and Stam, 1994) or simply “world cinema,” (Roberts, 1998) a descriptor which, in contrast to older separatist categories such as “third world cinema” (Pines and Willemen, 1989) or “sub-state cinema” (Crofts, 1998), stresses the universality of mobility and diversity.

In this paper I will discuss the options of political identity the Lebanese have at their disposal against the background of the German experience. Germany and Lebanon, states at first glance completely different from each other, show some similarity in their historical experience. In the context of this comparison I will discuss constitutional patriotism, a political concept in circulation in Germany over the last fifteen years or so, and its potential application in the Lebanese case. Constitutional patriotism, unlike many other concepts originating in the West, has yet not entered the political vocabulary of the Middle East. The debate on democracy and the civil society is widespread in the whole of the Middle East, including Lebanon. Lebanon's political culture, polity and national identity, however, show some peculiar traits that might justify the introduction of the term constitutional patriotism into the Lebanese political debate.

Soon after coming to power in 1994, one of the first actions of the Islamist municipality in Istanbul was to paint the cobblestones around the municipal area green. The semiotics involved in this seemingly unimportant alteration from the usual yellow or white was immediately recognized by the media, which in turn drew the public's attention to the issue. The municipality was harshly criticized for marking out its territory with an Islamist symbol, i.e., the color green. The mayor, in return, responded by asserting that green was one of the colors that was legally designated for this particular purpose. Yet, instead of arguing further in terms of the lawfulness of this action and democratic rights involved in the administration of a municipality, he declared that the green cobblestones in fact symbolized the environmentalist aspect of the municipal policy.