Autocratic Legalism In New Turkey

In the dark timesWill there also be singing?Yes, there will also be singingAbout the dark times

—Bertolt Brecht ([1936–38] 1976, 320)

the colossal building we entered made us feel like insignificant specks. We began to follow the signs on the walls towards our destination. Suddenly I heard the familiar voice of a young colleague: "Hello, Professor, it is so good to see you here. Do you need any directions?" Without waiting for my reply, she continued: "Some of our colleagues are waiting downstairs. Another group from our university is on the fifth floor. We can hear their session in half an hour. Would you like to go up there?" Soon we were up on the fifth floor and surrounded by colleagues, some shaking hands, some hugging. I looked down the enormous atrium at the center of the building and spotted several familiar faces of colleagues on different floors walking hastily in different directions. There were women and men in gowns accompanying them. My young colleague said, "This session seems delayed. I am afraid I will miss it since I will have to go to my own session soon. I hope all goes well." She smiled reservedly. I could see the clouds of worry in her eyes when she spoke. She seemed anxious when she said, "If we ever get to that point, I prepared to give a defense for 10 minutes." "Good luck," I said while looking firmly into her eyes, gesturing my confidence and pride in her. The worry in her eyes disappeared momentarily. She put her head up and walked away.

This could have been a scene at an interdisciplinary annual academic convention. We could have been scholars walking to our panel sessions on different floors and in rooms of a large hotel chosen as the convention venue. My young colleague could have been anxious about the paper she was about to deliver in a panel. But, no, we were not at an annual academic convention. We were at the grotesque Palace of Justice in Istanbul, which was filled with academics awaiting their hearings in different criminal courts. Some were there for their own trials; others joined them in displays of solidarity for colleagues and friends. It was October 2018. Although authoritarian practices had already begun, the coup attempt on July 15, 2016, and the ensuing declaration of a state of emergency had led to a major crackdown on fundamental rights and freedoms in Turkey. The morning after the coup attempt, while still not knowing how it would end, I called it "Turkey's Reichstag Fire" and argued that "whether the coup was successful or not, one thing was certain: there would no longer be room in Turkey for people who can listen, read, analyze, and think critically" (Kadıoğlu 2016).

About 6000 academics were purged from their positions in the aftermath of the failed coup attempt (Kadıoğlu 2018). Among them were the Academics for Peace, 1128 scholars from 89 different universities (Başer, Akgönül, and Öztürk 2017) who had signed a petition in January 2016 calling for the peaceful resolution of the conflict and an end to the ongoing atrocities against Kurdish citizens in the southeastern provinces of Turkey, declaring, "We will not be a party to this crime." Academics for Peace signatories were already being harassed, purged from their universities, and detained with charges of terrorism prior to the failed coup attempt. Immediately after the emergence of the petition in media outlets, in a speech he gave at the ambassadors conference, Turkey's president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, labeled the Academics for Peace "degenerate impersonators of intellectuals" (aydın müsveddeleri). He called them "ignorant," "dark," "colonialist," and "fifth column operators." He referred to the "treason" of these intellectuals and maintained that "their minds are foreign despite the fact that their names are like ours." He called upon the responsible units in the state to take immediate action against these academics who, in his words, "eat the bread of this state yet act like its enemies" (Erdoğan 2016...