We use cookies to distinguish you from other users and to provide you with a better experience on our websites. Close this message to accept cookies or find out how to manage your cookie settings.
To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
The date 24 April 1915 is generally seen as the symbolic beginning of the Armenian genocide, as it marks the date on which some 200 Armenian political, religious and intellectual leaders in Istanbul were arrested. In fact, massacres of Armenians had already begun in the southeastern and eastern provinces of Anatolia and the Caucasus as early as August–September 1914, months before the Ottoman entry into World War One.
In September 2005, Turkish intellectuals who questioned the Turkish state's denial policy on the deportation and killings of Armenians during the First World War gathered for a conference in Istanbul. Outside, in the streets, demonstrators also gathered in protest against the conference. One of the placards read: “Not Genocide, but Defense of the Fatherland.” Two parallel points of view are at work here, one referring to the past, the other to the present. Both the events of 1915 and the denial policy nine decades later are framed in terms of Turkish self-defense.
One may well ask why demands from inside and outside the country, that Turkey come to terms with its past, are so vehemently rejected. In Turkey today, any attempt to open a discussion of historic wrongs is denounced as a covert move in a master plan to partition the country. Why is facing history seen as a threat to national security?
Before answering this question, I have to add that this is not just the view of the political elite, but also underpins legal decisions. In a recent judgment against journalists Arat Dink and Sarkis Seropyan, who received a suspended sentence of a year in prison, for using the term “genocide,” the Turkish court stated that: “Talk about genocide, both in Turkey and in other countries, unfavourably affects national security and the national interest.