Turkish Court Ban on Islamist Welfare Party Boomerangs, Widening Gulf With EU

By James M. Dorsey

Inside Turkey, the reaction was muted. But in the West, it was swift and sharp. Few acts could have better highlighted the deep gulf that separates Turkey from its Western allies than the Turkish Constitutional Court's January decision to ban the pro-Islamic Welfare Party, the country's largest political movement.

Here in Turkey, the country's 65 million people continued about their daily business largely unruffled by the court's decision. In fact, the ruling ended months of political uncertainty and helped to lift prices on the Istanbul Stock Exchange.

But abroad, the move drew tough rebukes from the U.S. and the European Union, which fired off separate statements warning that the decision cast doubts on Turkey's commitment to democracy and the freedom of expression. "Americans have difficulty reconciling this with America's concept of democracy," one senior U.S. official in Washington said shortly before the U.S. statement was made public.

Turkey and the West are drifting further apart, with potentially grave consequences for both sides. As the only Muslim state in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, Turkey forms a geopolitical anchor for the West, a base for U.S. military aircraft patroling Iraq, a possible pipeline route for oil and gas from the Caspian Sea, and a friendly democracy in an Islamic world in turmoil. But the West is equally important to Turkey as its biggest trading partner, its key to economic success and its hopes for a better future inside an enlarged EU.

Despite those high stakes, analysts predicted that the tensions will intensify in the days to come, as the U.S. and EU pressure Turkey to strengthen its democracy, find a political solution to its 14-year-old war against Kurdish rebels, and demonstrate flexibility in resolving the intractable dispute on the divided island of Cyprus. "There will be reactions to reactions,'' said Bulent Aliriza, head of the Turkish Studies Department at Washington's Center for Strategic and International Studies. "And the xenophobia within the Turkish government will only exacerbate the situation."

It's an unfortunate outcome, especially considering that the Turkish court ruling is unlikely to trigger the kind of violence that now wracks Algeria, where a bloody civil war has left some 80,000 people dead since the military-backed government canceled 1992 elections that an Islamic party was poised to win. Although the Turkish army clearly orchestrated the campaign against Welfare, party leaders seem determined to press their cause through peaceful means.

The Constitutional Court closed the party for "acting against the secular principle of the republic.'' The court, whose decisions are irreversible, also banned 71-year-old Welfare Party leader Necmettin Erbakan from politics for five years, along with three other Welfare politicians and three former party members.

Mr. Erbakan said he would appeal the decision at the European Human Rights Court in Strasbourg, France, which has issued several previous rulings against the Turkish government. And Welfare Party members began discussing ways to regroup under the banner of a new Islamic party.

Yet Erbakan and other party leaders warned their 4.2 million members against being provoked into a violent reaction that could trigger another crackdown by the military, which forced the country's first Islamist-led government to resign last June after just a year in office. "They have never seen us involved with guns, and they never will,'' said Istanbul Mayor Recep Tayyib Erdogan, a leading contender to succeed Mr. Erbakan as leader of the Islamist movement.

"I'm glad the Welfare Party has been closed,'' said Cetin Ergin, a 33-year-old waiter at a restaurant in an old Istanbul district. "They were narrow-minded, mixing up politics and religion.'' But he added that he would support Erdogan, if the mayor were to emerge from the crisis as the leader of a new and more open pro-Islamic party. "He's modern and progressive. I'd vote for him.''

The mixed reaction poses a problem for the establishment that has evolved since the secularist republic was founded by Kemal Ataturk in 1923. Led by the powerful Turkish military, bureaucrats, mainstream media barons and established businessmen, that establishment has fought a creeping campaign to crush the Welfare's brand of political Islam over the past year.

But parties representing the conservative, pro-Islamic trend have been banned many times since the Republicans' one-party rule ended in 1946. Each time, they reassert their influence, rising steadily from their bases in provincial Turkey and newly urbanized suburbs of big cities. "There will only be one outcome of this decision,'' Mr. Erbakan said after the latest ruling. "Our cause will grow stronger, and Welfare will come to power alone one day."

In the conservative Muslim town of Sincan, 40 kilometers west of the capital in Ankara, residents echoed Erbakan's prediction. "There will be a new party and we'll vote for that,'' said Hatice Akgumus, a middle-aged housewife who lives with her family of seven in a two-room shack in a Sincan shantytown. "It doesn't have to be Erbakan on top."

Her conviction is easy to understand.

Less than a year ago, the Turkish military turned Sincan into a warning for other pro-Islamist towns by sending tanks into the town following a provocative theater production and rally during which the local mayor and the Iranian ambassador to Turkey called for the creation of an Islamic regime. That proved the beginning of the military's campaign to oust Erbakan. In the months that followed, the generals stepped up the pressure by insisting that Erbakan crack down on the country's Islamic movement and curtail religious education. By June, Erbakan had no choice but to resign. A month earlier. public prosecutor Vural Savas, encouraged by the military, filed a petition to the Constitutional Court that led to the closure of the party.

"They have closed down Qur'anic study classes, then the imam (Muslim preacher) schools, now our party,'' said Mrs. Akgumus, whose husband, a low-level civil servant, is the family's sole breadwinner. "They don't want our religion to spread.''

Mrs. Akgumus praised the Welfare Party for making their difficult lives a little easier. "Welfare made our muddy road asphalt, extended city buses to our town. They even distributed free food to the poor,'' she said, adding that services have been disrupted ever since the town's mayor was removed and put on trial for last year's rally.

Despite such grievances, Turkey's pro-Islamic politicians shun the deliberate use of violence for political ends. "We will do nothing to threaten the regime,'' said Bulent Arinc, a leader of the Welfare Party's younger generation. "But it's like walking through a minefield. We have to be careful. They can shut down any new party if it appears to be an extension of the old one.''

He acknowledged that the party had "made mistakes,'' referring to events like the provocative fundamentalist play staged by the Welfare Party mayor in Sincan. "But everything will start again. Even if they shut us down 40 times, we will open 41 times. We are the future.''

The peaceful approach to change partly reflects the fact that the modern Islamic movement, unlike those in most Muslim countries, was born in a pluralistic, parliamentary system. Moreover, the Turkish economy is highly diverse compared to Algeria, led by a strong new generation of private sector companies. The economy is so vibrant, in fact, that it has already shrugged off 99 percent inflation and eight years in which seven governments have come and gone. Even in last year's worst year of political strife, it grew at nearly 6 percent.

Western Backlash

So the main danger of a strong political backlash to the Welfare Party ban comes from the West. Even before the court ruling, Turkey's European allies were putting pressure on Ankara. Last month, European leaders bluntly refused to include Turkey on a list of 11 countries with which they plan to open negotiations on EU membership, citing Turkey's tarnished human-rights record and its disputes with Greece over Cyprus and various islands in the Aegean.

More recently, Britain introduced a visa requirement for Turkish Cypriots wishing to visit Britain, but made no such requirement for Greek Cypriots. Similarly, Germany this month removed from its list of terrorist organizations the Kurdistan Workers Party, which has been waging a 14-year guerrilla war in southeastern Turkey for greater Kurdish autonomy. The Germans now consider the group to be a "criminal'' organization instead.

Faced with such slaps in the face, Turkey had hoped to cultivate the U.S. government as a more reliable ally. Within days of the EU's refusal to open membership talks with Turkey, Prime Minister Mesut Yilmaz traveled to Washington, buoyed by the thought that the Clinton administration would be more appreciative of Turkey's geopolitical importance and less tough in its demands on Turkey.

At least one positive outcome followed when U.S. Secretary of Commerce William Daley arrived in mid-January in Turkey accompanied by executives of more than 25 American companies in a bid to increase U.S. participation in Turkish energy projects.

But now Turkish officials are discovering that their ties to the U.S. are threatened by many of the same issues that stand between Ankara and Brussels: questions about Turkey's commitment to democracy, concerns about the Kurds and hopes for a peaceful resolution in Cyprus. "All these things that matter to the Europeans matter to the Americans as well,'' said Bulent Aliriza of the Center for Strategic and International Studies. "The honeymoon with the Americans will quickly end as these issues come to the fore."

Turkish officials seemed confident that they could weather the storm. "There will be more backlash,'' predicted a senior Turkish official. "Turkey's Western allies will tighten the screws. In response, we will raise the stakes."

In fact, Turkey already is hardening its position on Cyprus, even as U.S. President Bill Clinton prepares for a major push to resolve the long-festering dispute. Turkey, officials recently said, no longer is willing to accept "intercommunal'' talks between Greek and Turkish Cypriots, demanding instead "interstate talks'' between the two, in a bid to grant Turkish Cyprus, which is only recognized by Turkey, equal status with Greek Cyprus, which enjoys widespread international recognition.

Turkey also has pledged to accelerate integration between Turkey and northern Cyprus and to include northern Cypriot officials in all its official delegations. Turkey, which invaded Cyprus in 1974 following a pro-Greek military coup on the island, has an estimated 30,000 troops stationed in the north.

Turkey is also at odds with the U.S. over Iran. Last month, U.S. officials believed that they had secured Prime Minister Yilmaz's agreement to cooperate in the creation of an East-West corridor for Caspian Sea oil and gas that would flow through Turkey to world markets, avoiding both Iran and Russia. But soon after his trip to Washington, Yilmaz visited the Central Asian republic of Turkmenistan, where he signed an agreement that authorizes Royal Dutch/Shell to investigate the feasibility of shipping Turkmen gas through Iran to Turkey.

When a senior U.S. delegation raised the issue last week in Ankara, Turkey's energy minister, Cumhur Ersumer, reportedly cut them short. "Turkey will get its gas from wherever it wants and will not tolerate foreign interference," Turkish officials quoted the minister as saying.

As the diplomatic battle intensifies, the Turkish government looks increasingly like "a hedgehog'' that rolls into a ball and "believes nothing will happen to it," warned Soli Ozel, a political scientist at Istanbul Bilgi University.

A senior Turkish official in Ankara was inclined to agree: "Turkey and its Western allies are conducting a dialogue of the deaf,'' the official said. "But nobody in Ankara realizes that we are on the losing end."

James M. Dorsey is an American free-lance writer based in Istanbul.