The first schism and the first fatwa

We will not be speaking of firsts in the history of humanity in that sense. If we were to do so, Iblis, who compared himself with Adam and, according to the merits he saw with his own eyes and tried to measure with his mortal reason, considered himself, created from fire, superior to Adam, created from clay, is unquestionably the first racist. This event, regarded as the basic reference of Islam's philosophy of the human being, shows that even the most scientific or the most sophisticated forms of racist thought or approach cannot escape being 'jahili'. Let us not go that far.

Undoubtedly, those who committed the first act of divisiveness in this period were those who, right after the founding of the Republic, setting aside everyone's contribution in a war of liberation fought together and a state established together, attributed to the state and the country an ethnic-nationalist identity such as had never existed in the history of these lands. I cannot say 'the Turks did this,' because the new state project also involved inventing a 'Turkishness' that had never existed in history. Turkishness as it existed in history was used merely as a name; it was rebuilt by interfering with its language, customs, religion and traditions as they had developed over history, and everyone was asked to conform 'equally' to this constructed form.

What the TC understood by equality was the assimilation of everyone in the same way. There was no one whom this assimilation did not touch. For this reason, in a sense, the first group that Turkish nationalism successfully assimilated was the Turks themselves. The success of this assimilation did not stem from the Turks' having responded to the process very positively. On the contrary, it was achieved against the Turks too, through the execution of tens of thousands of people in the independence tribunals, through massacres, and through practices that were the prototype of Baath regimes.

Of course, this assimilation did not occur in the same way, with the same results, for everyone. Some ultimately approved of these practices, some embraced the identities imposed on them, in Stockholm-syndrome-style reactions, to the point of excess. Leaving aside the fact that the question of why Islamists remained silent about what was done to the Kurds does not square with the facts, it should be considered together with the fact that in this period either no Islamists remained at all, or those who did remain were under the same pressures.

The projection of the Turkish nation-state thus constituted the first step of divisiveness in this period. The abolition of the caliphate and the transition from an all-encompassing state identity with no ethnic emphasis whatsoever, such as 'Ottoman,' to the identity of a 'Secular Turkish State' were carried out in a way that could embrace almost no one in these lands except a very few, and that wounded everyone. The existence of the caliphate and its representation by the state did not allow for such divisiveness and exclusion. That is why Sheikh Said's question in opposition to the abolition of the caliphate, 'the bond between us was the bond of religion and the caliphate; when they are gone, what is left to keep us together?', was perceived not as an uprising in the name of Kurdishness, but also as a fatwa that to assault this bond was a crime deserving punishment. The caliphate represented the concrete embodiment of the Muslim ummah, and abolishing it was perceived as an attack on this integral entity. In this respect Sheikh Said's rebellion was received not as a separatist movement but, on the contrary, as a reflex against a separatist politics that targeted the integrity of Muslims.

When Sheikh Said launched this rebellion, his reference too was religion, and it was a fatwa. The one issued by Said Nursi, who opposed him and did not support his movement, was another fatwa. There are those who find it odd that Hayrettin Karaman Hodja has entered today's political debates with religious references. In this is revealed an extremely naive definition of politics and religion, one that holds that the religious level and the political level can easily be separated from each other in nature. Yet we see that the strongest responses to Karaman's words draw their nourishment and strength not from the secular level but again from the level of religious reference.

The danger of authoritarianism is always present in speech at the religious level. When you cite a verse, you draw God or the 'absolute truth' to your side, and so you may gain, in a sense, an unfair competitive advantage over the other side. However, this authoritarianism is not fed only by the use of religious discourse. It can just as easily be displayed in the name of a liberal claim to truth. We witness this often on other occasions as well, but the authoritarianism displayed against the debate Karaman opened provided a very meaningful example of it.

Yet everyone's political stance has a reference, and there is no one who does not rest on a claim to truth that 'deems others absolutely wrong.' Some put science, some put prejudgments that have gained validity (deriving their miraculous truth from their validity), at the center of their politics, their criticism or their claim to truth. Whether it has an effect that truly ends a debate is perhaps determined by the physical-prohibitive power behind that claim. If the view Karaman put forward with religious reference, far from ending a debate, started a debate even among the devout (Islamist) people who could be the very target of that fatwa, this actually shows what a healthy debating environment we are in.

That Karaman Hodja, who normally enjoys the great acceptance and esteem of very wide circles for his scholarly depth, is willing to dive into this line of fire can only be met with appreciation. What I understood from what he said, and what I accept, is that those who take Islam into account have a conception of the political body that goes beyond Turkish and Kurdish nationalisms. The Islamists' diagnosis of the problem is different, and so are their proposals for its solution.

Those who take a stance against these statements from a Kurdish nationalist perspective, and who immediately accuse Karaman Hodja of being a 'Kemalist' because he speaks of 'unity,' do not see, indeed do not want to see, that this approach rests first of all on rejecting the Kemalist project. They may truly fail to see it, because it is typical for those living in the heat of two fanaticisms to grow used to each other, to love each other, and to see nothing but each other, but this is the optimistic view.

The worse and unfortunately valid possibility is this: that the Islamists' discourse appears divisive to Kemalists and Kemalist to Kurdish nationalists is not an opinion or a finding but a preference. For both sides, in this way, find the cheap way of protecting their ideological comfort by saying 'either you are with me or with them.'