Introduction
Criticism and its impact upon on state identity is the subject of a rich emerging literature in International Relations.Footnote 1 Drawing from a broadly constructivist ontology, scholars have focused on the interpellation effects of discourses, that is, how states are ‘hailed’ into negative representations and discourses about themFootnote 2 and how these discourses have the capacity to shape their identities and behavioural responses. We know that states do not simply become socialised or passively absorb criticism but actively engage with and respond to attempts to criticise or shame them.Footnote 3 Moreover, these responses are not just strategic or instrumental in nature but can be emotional, particularly when they concern criticism of elements central to a state’s identity. Jelena Subotic and Ayşe Zarakol argue that states’ emotional responses become particularly rife when they result from ontological fissures between negative external representations from powerful sources and established internal understandings of self, that is, cultural intimacy. In these instances, the authors argue, external criticism of culturally intimate practices create crises of state identity, causing states to feel emotions such as shame, embarrassment, or guilt, depending on their position in the system.
In this article, we argue that this delineation of emotional responses presumes absorption of criticism by target states and does not give non-acceptance of criticism its due. Nor does it sufficiently recognise the potential role of diverse actors within the state in channelling emotional responses to criticism. Thus, we take seriously the possibility that criticism is not always internalised by recipients and that it can be questioned, contested, and rejected when states do not view the content and sources of criticism as legitimate. Second, we emphasise the role of leaders in framing emotions in foreign policy. Using Turkey’s relationship with Israel under President Erdoğan as an illustration, we suggest an array of plausible responses to criticism such as anger, scorn, indignation, or pride which result in defiance and contestation as behavioural responses. Turkish leaders are not just ashamed, embarrassed, or guilty about international criticism, despite Turkey’s ostensibly weak position in the world, but they also criticise powerful international actors in turn. We argue that criticism can provide opportunities rather than just crises for recipients and can be strategically useful. Our study complicates the common reading of Turkey as a weak state vulnerable to international criticism.
The first part of this article brings together International Relations (IR) theory on state identity, criticism, and emotions to identify the particular intersection of literatures engaged in the article. We make the case for emotions stemming from non-acceptance of criticism and for ‘bringing leadership back in’ to address, what we argue, is a neglect of agency in the literature. Next, we examine Turkey’s fraught relationship with Israel that provoked Western criticism of the Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (henceforth AKP) government and of Erdoğan.Footnote 4 We focus on the dynamics of criticism in two flashpoints: the confrontation between Erdoğan and Israeli President Shimon Peres at the 2009 World Economic Forum meeting in Davos (henceforth Davos) and the 2010 Mavi Marmara incident, when Israel attacked a Turkish flotilla which was attempting to breach a blockade of the Gaza. The final section discusses implications for the relationship between criticism, identity, and foreign policy. We suggest that international criticism can create opportunities for the target state rather than crises of identity.
The theoretical terrain
Criticism, state identity, and ontological security
Two early, inter-related research agendas on norms and socialisation and the formation of state identity highlighted the importance of discursive representations in influencing state behaviour. Scholars traced the socialising effects of discourses on actors that did not cohere with prevailing international norms in a variety of cases and substantive areas.Footnote 5 They showed that discourses and representations about states, non-state actors, and even objects allowed for certain actions towards them to become thinkable or unthinkable. Literature on the dynamics of naming and shaming subsequently also examined the uses of negative representations and labels to enforce compliance with international norms, particularly in the area of human rights.Footnote 6 This literature tended to focus on the goals, strategies, and successes of powerful ‘namers’ or norm-enforcers rather than those of the targets of criticism.
Side by side, scholars interested in theorising the formation of state identity, following Alexander Wendt’s work, also emphasised the role of discourse.Footnote 7 Whether formed through inter-state interactionsFootnote 8 or through discourses about ‘internal others’,Footnote 9 these works showed the effort states undergo in constructing and sustaining coherent narratives of self, which make certain actions and policies possible and rule others out. Common to these research agendas is the understanding that external representations (particularly negative ones that have the capacity to demarcate a state’s behaviour as outside that of acceptable standards) are powerful influences on states’ understandings of their own behaviour and identities vis-à-vis the international system.
Subsequent work on representation corrects some early assumptions. Amongst these is the recognition of the agency of the recipients of representations who contest international norms and attendant discourses.Footnote 10 For instance, Adler-Nissen calls for better theorisaation of ‘the dynamic relationship between those imposing normal behavior and those stigmatized by it’.Footnote 11 This insight problematises the view of socialisation as a linear and strictly hierarchical process where recipient states are persuaded into complying with international norms and then into transforming their identities. Understanding the responses and strategies of recipient states is crucial to understanding norm diffusion as a ‘two-way process’.Footnote 12
Crucial to this endeavour and to understanding how criticism works on targets is tracing its impacts within the state. The growing literature on Ontological Security offers some productive insights. Drawing from Anthony Giddens, scholars have elucidated how the need for ontological security – or certainty of self – drives state behaviour.Footnote 13 It points to the existential necessity of established narratives and understandings, as contrasted with instrumental reasons, for state identity construction. Ontological security is derived from both external, intersubjective interactions and internal self-understandings and commitments.Footnote 14 Regardless of the roots of ontological security, the concept is now an integral part of the theoretical apparatus on the purposes and sources of state identity.Footnote 15
Scholars tie criticism to ontological security in a few key ways. For Adler-Nissen, ontological insecurity is experienced by the international community of states that, as a result, continually stigmatise ‘transgressive states to the margins of international society’.Footnote 16 For Subotic and Zarakol, tensions and disjunctures between internal and external spheres of state identity formation lead to crises of ontological insecurity, during which states experience emotional reactions.Footnote 17 It is this latter argument we engage with below.
Criticism and identity crises
Theories of cultural intimacy demarcate the domestic from the outside. Michael Herzfeld defines the realm of cultural intimacy as ‘a part of cultural identity that insiders do not want outsiders to get to know’ and that entails ‘a comfort zone of guiltily non-normative carryings-on’.Footnote 18 These culturally intimate practices, which have a unifying salience internally, can rub up uncomfortably against international codes of behaviour. When these contending understandings clash against each other, the impact upon a state’s ontological security can be jarring and profound.
Even positive discourse can be at odds with internal narratives. Priya Chacko and Manjari Chatterjee-Miller note,Footnote 19 for instance, that the ‘rise of India’ discourse, designed by the US to promote a special relationship with India, only partly coheres with India’s own ‘biographical narrative’.Footnote 20 While it bolsters Indian self-perception to some extent, its disjuncture with Indian understandings results in an uneven relationship with the US and produces foreign policy that does not always fit Western imperatives.
More pertinent to our purpose, however, are critical discourses, which allow dominant powers to order the international system by forcing weaker states to comply with their preferred norms.Footnote 21 Indeed, one way that states become aware of the disjunctures between international norms and culturally intimate ways is when they are subject to external criticism for precisely those internally resonant actions that constitute cultural intimacy. This dynamic forms the basis for Subotic and Zarakol’s work on emotional states.
Subotic and Zarakol argue that states must cultivate and preserve particular narratives of culture and history in order to have a ‘sense of self’ and remain viable, distinct entities in the international system. This necessitates practices of cultural intimacy on the domestic front, following Felix Berenskoetter and Herzfeld’s conception. However, cultural intimacy and particularity lie in tension with states’ equally salient identities as ‘modern’ states that must accordingly embody international norms and values. When a state deviates from international norms, it can cause the state to be marked out as ‘unmodern, backward or trapped in history’.Footnote 22 And when this criticism centres on culturally intimate practices, it goes right to the bone. The state cannot just instrumentally adopt, reject, or become socialised by such negative appraisals, nor can it simply ‘brush it off’. External criticism of culturally intimate practices creates ontological crises.
Studying states’ responses to such ontological crises dovetails with a lively literature on emotions in IR.Footnote 23 This work elucidates how emotions – particularly negative ones such as grief, humiliation,Footnote 24 fear,Footnote 25 and hatredFootnote 26 to name a few – are ‘politically consequential’Footnote 27 and effect political behaviour. Subotic and Zarakol add to our understanding by showing how criticism of state identity elicits particular emotions; namely shame, embarrassment, and guilt. To explain this variation in states’ emotions, they point to states’ structural position in and the historic relationship with the international community. Structural position for Subotic and Zarakol has as much to do with a state’s sense of security and confidence in its standing and identity vis-à-vis the international system as it does with material power. Hence, actors with a weaker structural position, that is, those who are more vulnerable to the international gaze, will experience shame rather than embarrassment or guilt because they have ‘at least a deep-seated suspicion’ that negative appraisals may be right. Using three ‘case-vignettes’, the authors show how international criticism of culturally intimate behaviour in Serbia, Croatia, and the Netherlands in the context of the break up of Yugoslavia resulted in shame, embarrassment, and guilt, based on these states’ different structural positions.
Subotic and Zarakol valuably theorise the relationship between criticism and crises of ontological security, state emotions, and foreign policy. Still, below we address what we argue is a neglect of agency and a failure to take non-acceptance of criticism seriously in their argument.
Assertive emotions and the question of agency
Subotic and Zarakol acknowledge non-acceptance of criticism but they see this as a behavioural outcome stemming from a core acceptance of the criticism as valid and true. Non-acceptance is thus a front for emotions evoked by the internalisation of external criticism. The authors base their assessment on a certain interpretation of states’ responses. For instance, they view ‘denial and hostile bravado’ as ‘avoidance behaviour’, presuming that the criticism has been absorbed.Footnote 28 In the Serbian case, for example, where the authors identify shame as the primary operating emotion, they note a contradiction between conciliatory actions undertaken by Serbia towards the West and the lack of official apology or ‘commitment’ to change the underlying politics that garnered criticism. Similarly, since Croatia ‘explained, denied and corrected’ its problematic behaviour without ‘questioning the underlying behavior itself’, they conclude that Croatia felt embarrassment as it engaged with the criticism.Footnote 29 The authors do acknowledge that non-acceptance is one possible manifestation of emotional response to criticism but their interpretation presumes agreement with the basic premise of the criticism. Reading behaviour as definitively indicative of any one emotional response is questionable given the ephemeral quality of emotions as phenomena as Roland Bleiker and Emma Hutchinson caution.Footnote 30 Tracing their political impact thus depends on the interpretive lens one adopts in reading behaviour and rhetoric as evidence of certain emotions.Footnote 31 It is certainly reasonable to read rejection or denial as evidence of avoidance. However, this does not rule out other plausible interpretations of such actions. As we show below, it is possible for states to react to criticism in a consistent and non-contradictory manner, opening up the possibility that contestation, rejection, and defiance are not avoidance but assertive behaviour.
The possibility that states might not accept the fundamental validity and legitimacy of the criticism and thus feel no reason to be ashamed, embarrassed, or guilty remains under-explored. We know that more fundamental negative representations such as stigma are managed in various ways, including rejection, by recipient states.Footnote 32 Recipients of criticism may reject and contest criticism when they do not accept its core rightfulness that is, they may simply ‘not buy’ it. Some might argue that it is too simple to assume that states would simply reject criticism they perceive to be wrong.Footnote 33 The accuracy of the criticism might not be that important, the argument goes, because as social actors, states might care more about the relationship with the significant criticising Other. Thus, criticism may cause some reassessment of the relationship regardless of its veracity. This argument is plausible but so also is the possibility that recipients of criticism may not mind risking certain relationships or find the source of the criticism uniformly legitimate. This points to our second key argument regarding agency in framing emotional responses to criticism.
Extant theories tend to unambiguously treat the unit of criticism as the state, perhaps understandably given the focus on state identity, or, as in the tradition of Foreign Policy Analysis, the focus on individual decision-makers. However, when examining reactions to criticism, it becomes important to disaggregate whose emotional responses are assessed. While some constituents may indeed experience shame, guilt, or embarrassment as a result of external criticism, these emotions may or may not percolate up as a state’s official response. Recognising how individuals may act as conduits and framers of emotions is crucial to understanding foreign policy in moments of criticism.Footnote 34 ‘Bringing leadership back in’ provides a way to disaggregate the impact of criticism.
Studies of leadership connect identity discourses constructed domestically and internationally to specific foreign policy behaviour by highlighting the personality, perceptions, and beliefs of individual leaders. Domestic identity discourses may act as ‘categorisers and simplifiers’ for decision-makers to help them understand their state, as well as Others, by establishing a ‘social cognitive structure’ that ‘makes threats and opportunities, enemies and allies, intelligible, thinkable and possible’.Footnote 35 Decision-makers strategically frame and situate events and articulate state identity within a broader narrative of their nation’s past, present, and future.Footnote 36 President Erdoğan’s role in constructing Turkey’s state identity is particularly important to emphasise because of his omnipotent role in Turkish domestic and foreign policy, especially towards Israel.Footnote 37 We are thus attentive to his leadership in examining responses to Western criticism of Turkey’s Israel policy.
Below we map out the reflexive identities and self-understandings operating in Turkish state identity, including those pertaining particularly to Turkish-Israeli relations, which is a highly salient issue in the construction of the Turkish self. Then we turn to two episodes where the expressions of these reflexive identities were the subject of external criticism.
Cultural intimacy under the AKP: Codes, principles, and practices
Turkey’s dramatic transformation in the last decade is well documented in academic and policy circles.Footnote 38 The decreasing role of the military in politics and increasing civil engagement in domestic and foreign policy and the rapid economic growth and embrace of neoliberal principles and proactive foreign policy are striking features of this transformation. These developments happened in tandem with what some see as increasing authoritarianism and rising tension and distrust within society, resulting in transformative effects on Turkish identity discourses.Footnote 39 While ‘before 9/11, the fundamental question was “where” Turkey was located; after that date, the question turned into “what” Turkey was in terms of its identity’.Footnote 40 These two questions; where Turkey is located and what Turkey is in terms of its identity, remain significant in current domestic, regional, and international political developments. Responses to these questions come from external sources as well as the Turkey’s internal discourse about the self. In providing an account of culturally intimate understandings within Turkey, our focus is on the latter. Few would deny the centrality of the AKP to these developments in its 13 years in power in central government, parliament, and, eventually, presidency. Thus although state narratives are contested domestically,Footnote 41 we focus on dominant discourse crafted by the AKP.
Turkey occupies a complex position vis-à-vis the West. While Turkey’s traumatic introduction into the international state system in the twentieth century as a ‘stigmatised outsider’ creates insecurities in its identity,Footnote 42 it is also increasingly perceived as an emerging power in the region and beyond.Footnote 43 Determining its structural position (in the sense of security and confidence of image) and consequent vulnerability to external criticism thus presents a challenge. This is compounded by the efforts of leaders such as Erdoğan and ex-Prime Minister Davutoğlu to reshape Turkey’s position and identity in the international system, reminding us that a state’s structural position is dynamic and subject to change. Thus the ‘stigmatised outsider’ image in Erdoğan’s ‘New Turkey’ discourse combines the legacy of the common Anatolian civilisations of the Seljuk and Ottoman order with a vanguard role in restructuring the global world order.Footnote 44
A key component of Turkish state identity is built on the narrative of civilisation, dubbed neo-Ottomanism, Ottoman Islamism, or post-Islamism/Ottomanism. The AKP’s civilisational identity discourse includes a ‘hybrid representation of history and geography’ built on Turkey’s ‘geo-cultural legacies’ inherited from the Ottoman Empire.Footnote 45 This ‘civilisational’ perspective is viewed as ‘a source of national and spiritual values, a symbol of belonging to the Middle East and the Islamic world, and a keyword for common humanitarian values’.Footnote 46 It also has expanded ‘the space for Islam in domestic public sphere’Footnote 47 and turned to ‘the Ottoman past as an inspiration for a more pluralistic but also more conservative domestic order’.Footnote 48 Despite their reluctance to openly use such terminology, Davutoğlu and Erdoğan view geography and history as ‘two permanent elements’ of Turkish societyFootnote 49 and as sources of Turkey’s responsibility in creating a ‘just and equitable global order’.Footnote 50 Thus, AKP elites’ understanding of civilisation entails ‘a politics of restoration’ of the current international orderFootnote 51 and accords Turkey a ‘pioneer’ role in world politics.Footnote 52
Related to Erdoğan’s vision for Turkey and crucial to this narrative of civilisation is the concept of ‘central state’. Unlike previous representations of Turkey as a bridge between East and West or a ‘torn country’ between civilisations,Footnote 53 the notion of ‘central state’ puts Turkey at the heart of historical, political, and geographical civilisations with a constructive and active role in regional and global politics.Footnote 54 As early as 2008, Davutoğlu, for example, categorically rejected the view of Turkey as a ‘bridge country which only connects two points’ or a ‘frontier country that sits at the edge of the Muslim world or the West’. Instead, Turkey not only occupies a ‘center of attraction in its region’ as the ‘optimal place’,Footnote 55 but also has the capability of ‘overcoming the dichotomies of East-West, Europe-Middle East and North-South’.Footnote 56
Another significant trope of the AKP’s construction of Turkish self is built on the idea of solidarity with the ‘people’ against the elite and with the wider Muslim world against the system established by the West.Footnote 57 Erdoğan repeatedly presents Turkey as the country with a unique position in the region which, ‘compared to the Western countries, speaks best the language of the Middle East’.Footnote 58 This manifests in particular in the Palestinian issue, a topic not viewed as a ‘national Palestinian or even Arab problem but a Muslim solidarity issue among the Turkish conservative masses’.Footnote 59 Erdoğan’s 2012 speech at Cairo University presents the important place of the Palestinian issue in the ‘New Turkey’ discourse:
Just as Mecca, Madina, Cairo, Alexandria, Beirut, Damascus, Diyarbakir, Istanbul, Ankara are each other’s brothers, so, let the world know and understand that Ramallah, Nablus, Jericho, Rafah, Gaza and Jerusalem are these cities’ brothers and our brothers. Each drop of blood spilled in these cities is the same blood that flows in our veins …’.Footnote 60
This biography of Turkey as the ‘leading actor of the civilisation’ and ‘central country’ in solidarity with the Muslim world captures particular understandings of Turkey’s past, its current status and its role in world politics – three elements of cultural intimacy emphasised by Subotic and Zarakol.
Side by side are widely circulating perceptions about Erdoğan’s own leadership. Erdoğan made his mark in Turkish politics with consecutive victories in every local and national election since 2002 and his consequent reimagining of Turkish society and state.Footnote 61 Kadri Gürsel explains the emergence of the ‘Erdoğan cult’ in Turkey by pointing out his followers admire his belligerence and see him as ‘one of their own in terms of attitude, language, dress and culture’.Footnote 62 Staunch supporters might appreciate his ‘Kasımpaşa’ attitude (referring to the Istanbul neighbourhood he hails from) and traditionally nationalist and conservative Sunni background.Footnote 63 Aylin Görener and Meltem Ucal note the impact of Erdoğan’s decisive and forceful leadership style, strongly-held convictions, profoundly black-and-white view of his environment, and his stress on Islamic solidarity in Turkey’s foreign policy.Footnote 64 These culturally intimate understandings of Turkish identity and Erdoğan’s leadership style also impact upon elements of Turkey’s relationship vis-à-vis Israel.
Turkey and Israel: Cultural intimacy and foreign policy
Starting with the reinstatement of full diplomatic relations in 1991, Turkey embarked on a series of initiatives to normalise and build relations with Israel after a long impasse. This period witnessed ever-closer economic and strategic ties, cooperation on counter-terrorism and people-people contact. These ‘golden years’ lasted until the ascendance of the AKP in 2002.Footnote 65 Yet, Israel remained a cultural marker in Turkish identity debates and undercurrents of anti-Israel sentiment existed throughout this time.Footnote 66 The Palestinian Liberation Organization’s (PLO) establishment of a full diplomatic mission in Ankara in 1979 was one thorny reminder. Public opinion has been a key factor in determining the course of Turkey-Israel relations and this metric consistently betrayed the gap between Turkey’s carefully managed policy and popular sentiment regarding Israel, particularly concerning Gaza and the Palestinian issue. The long-standing pro-Palestinian sentiment among the Turkish public was epitomised in a Turkish TV series, Ayrılık, which showed Israeli soldiers enjoying randomly killing Palestinian civilians, amongst other things.Footnote 67 As domestic polarisation between secular and religiously conservative segments of political and societal groups deepened, routinised anti-Israeli practices such as widespread protestation of Israel’s occupation of East Jerusalem and demonstrations commemorating ‘Jerusalem Day’ annually since 1987 with the chants of ‘Down with Israel’ continued throughout the 1990s and 2000s.Footnote 68
Still, the ascendancy in 2002 of the AKP did not immediately spell trouble for the relationship because Turkey’s success at carving a positive relationship with Israel was seen and promoted as evidence of its success as a regional power, ‘responsible Muslim state’ and partner to the West. It would also ensure Turkey’s ‘zero-problem’ foreign policy with its neighbours, as Davutoğlu famously put it.Footnote 69 Even Israeli policymakers expected some stridency from the AKP after it came to power due to Turkish public opinion but did not believe that this would ‘ultimately undermine defense and commercial ties’.Footnote 70
However, the inheritance of the ‘golden years’ dovetailed uncomfortably with the AKP’s conscious decision to end what leaders such as Davutoğlu saw as years of ‘indexing’ Turkey’s foreign policy to Israeli foreign policy.Footnote 71 Changed geo-strategic imperatives after the Iraq war and the eagerness to build an image as regional mediator brought Turkey in ever-closer contact with Syria and Iran. This, coupled with the intensification of Israeli action in Gaza, steadily strained the bilateral relationship during the course of the mid-2000s. The launching of operation ‘Cast Lead’ by Israel, soon after Israeli Prime Minister Olmert’s visit to Turkey in 2008, escalated this uneasy equation. Erdoğan was personally offended at what he perceived to be the ‘hypocrisy’ and betrayal of Israel’s operation.Footnote 72 These tensions manifested explosively during the 2009 meeting in Davos, our first within-case flashpoint.
‘One minute’ that reverberated: Davos
Davutoğlu has himself pointed to Davos as a critical moment in the relationship between Western states and Turkey. For Davutoğlu, it was ‘as if a button was pressed after 2010’ that led to Western interpretations of Turkey as critical and hostile.Footnote 73 The incident occurred during the 2009 WEF in the closing minutes of a panel on the situation in Gaza in the wake of Israeli strikes. The proximate cause of the incident was Erdoğan’s ostensible displeasure with the format of the panel, which did not allow him time to respond to closing remarks made by co-panelist Shimon Peres. Pressed to finish by moderator, Erdoğan continued to speak, repeatedly asking for ‘one minute’ to be allowed to finish his thoughts. Finally, Erdoğan declared that Davos was ‘over for him’ before gathering his papers and walking off the stage.
This dramatic context, tenor, and visuals immediately garnered attention. Equally noteworthy, however, was the extraordinarily confrontational content of Erdoğan’s remarks. Erdoğan accused the Israeli leader of having a ‘very loud’ voice, which he attributed to a ‘sense of guilt’, and of ‘murdering children on beaches’. He accused unnamed members of the audience, in a reference that could be seen as stand in for the international community, of ‘applauding this persecution’, adding that those actions would constitute ‘another crime committed against humanity’. Words such as ‘you know well how to kill’, and the culminating invocation of Israel a ‘gangster state’, all but guaranteed a strong reaction.
The incident exemplified the new assertiveness of the Turkish Prime Minister, and not necessarily in favourable terms. Media coverage uniformly depicted Erdoğan’s behaviour as boorish and uncouth. The response from Western sectors, where a defence of Israel could be reasonably expected, was couched in hand-wringing expressions about the threat to the Israeli-Turkish relationship. Norwegian Prime Minister Bondevik, who was present at Davos, viewed Erdoğan’s departure as ‘an expression of how difficult this situation is’.Footnote 74
In regional quarters, the response was different. Fellow panelist Amr Moussa, the Secretary General of the Arab League, saw Erdoğan’s actions as ‘understandable’ and argued that Erdoğan should have been given more time as ‘people are very emotional’ when discussing the Middle East. Tony Blair, then Middle East Envoy, also expressed understanding of Erdoğan’s outburst and downplayed the larger ramifications of the incident. Hamas commended Erdoğan for his courage and argued that the leader ‘directly defended the victims of the criminal Zionist war against our children and women in Gaza’.Footnote 75 Coming at a time when Turkey was making up for a decade of sidelining regional entities, these responses were significant.
In Turkey, the episode garnered a more visible reaction.Footnote 76 Some were forthright in their criticism. ‘The most important quality of a mediator is to be able to maintain an equal distance to all parties involved’, argued Cüneyt Ülsever, a columnist for the Hürriyet. ‘Erdoğan’s inability to control his anger is a problem … After this outburst, it will take six months to a year for him to regain credibility as a mediator [between Israel and the Arab world].’Footnote 77 Despite these critical remarks, however, the predominant reaction to Erdoğan’s outburst was positive. That Davos was resonating domestically was evident from Erdoğan’s triumphant return to Turkey as a crowd of 5,000 supporters chanting ‘one minute’ greeted him at the airport. Posters at the airport hailed Erdoğan with praise such as ‘the conqueror of Davos’, a representation that was soon captured in a website of the same name, ‘www.davosfatihi.com’.Footnote 78 In such an environment, it is not surprising that the Turkish government saw the value of capitalising on the image of Erdoğan as a tough truth-talker. A story sanctioned by the government suggested that Erdoğan had accepted an apology from Peres on the condition that it be made public, which was later denied by Israel.Footnote 79
While Turkey dialled down the immediate significance of the incident as a blow to its relationship with Israel, it continued to take an assertive position against Israel, against the preferences of powerful actors such as the United States. In 2009, for example, Turkey cancelled the international leg of the long-standing Anatolian Eagle air force exercises which had regularly seen Israeli participation, despite pressure from US.Footnote 80 Unyielding in the face of American pressure, Erdoğan argued that he would act in accordance with public conscience because ‘every government has to … take into consideration of the tendency of its public and the demand of its nation’.Footnote 81
Still, the perception of Turkey in the West did not suffer too much as a result of Davos.Footnote 82 In November 2011, Time featured Erdoğan on its cover, with a largely laudatory article. Yet Davos served as a precursor of the confrontational dynamics of Turkish-Israeli relations that would reach a nadir in the Mavi Marmara incident.
Relationship adrift: Mavi Marmara
On 31 May 2010, Israeli military forces boarded a flotilla of an international coalition of NGOs carrying humanitarian assistance to the Gaza Strip, which has been under Israeli blockade since 2007. The raid killed ten Turkish citizens who were members of the Foundation for Human Rights and Freedoms and Humanitarian Relief (IHH), and left many more wounded.Footnote 83
Unsurprisingly, Turkey’s immediate reaction to the incident was strong; demanding the immediate release of ships and detainees and warning Israel that Turkey would reconsider its bilateral relationship if the release did not take place within 24 hours.Footnote 84 Erdoğan characterised the raid as ‘state terrorism’ and declared it ‘totally contrary to the principles of international law’.Footnote 85 In a speech broadcast live by 25 foreign networks, Erdoğan warned Israel of ‘Turkey’s hostility’, which was ‘as strong as its friendship is valuable’.Footnote 86
Turkey also launched a campaign against Israel in various bilateral and multilateral fora. As a non-permanent member of the UN Security Council at the time, Turkey first requested an emergency meeting of the Security Council to be convened,Footnote 87 while simultaneously calling the NATO Council and Organization of Islamic Cooperation for extraordinary meetings. At the OIC meeting, Foreign Minister Davutoğlu called the incident ‘Turkey’s 9/11’ and a ‘defining moment’ in the history of the region.Footnote 88 Turkish officials made three demands – an official Israeli apology, compensation to the families, and lift of the Gaza blockade – as a precondition for bilateral relations to ‘normalize’.Footnote 89 In March 2013, Israel officially apologised to Turkey, following President Obama’s visit to Israel, and Turkish and Israeli leaders agreed to discuss the Gaza blockade as well as Israeli compensation to the families of the victims.Footnote 90 Even after the Israeli apology, however, the flotilla incident continued to cast its shadow on Israeli-Turkish relations. Four years after the incident, Erdoğan maintained that ties between two countries would remain ‘frosty’ and ruled out ‘normalisation of relations’ as long as Israel continued its Gaza offensive.Footnote 91
Western reaction to Mavi Marmara took a winding course. Initially there were expressions of concern and condemnation of the Israeli raid.Footnote 92 However, this soon gave way to a more conciliatory attitude towards Israel and, then, accusatory stance towards Turkey. The shift, similar to Davos, had to do with concerns about Turkey’s behaviour and handling of the Mavi Marmara crisis as well as doubts about the intentions and goals of the activists.Footnote 93 Slowly but steadily commentaries began to question the ‘true intent’ of the activists on board and call attention to possible links between the organisers and activists on the flotilla and terrorist groups, while the least harsh of the critiques centred on the Turkish government’s recklessness in allowing the flotilla to proceed, all of which was reflected in subsequent findings of the UN Panel of Inquiry investigating the incident.Footnote 94 Max Boot in the Wall Street Journal, for example, found Israeli actions ‘entirely justifiable’ and accused the flotilla organisers and activists of having ties to terrorist organisations, including Hamas and al-Qaeda.Footnote 95 Western editorials supported Israel’s right to defend itself and blamed the ‘pro-Hamas activists’ on board for inciting violence and seeking confrontation.Footnote 96 The US State Department soon joined the chorus of voices finding the link between the IHH and Hamas ‘worrisome’,Footnote 97 while 87 US senators demanded the IHH be included in the US terror list while supporting Israel’s right to self-defence.Footnote 98 Concerns were also raised regarding the involvement of the Turkish government in organising the flotilla and its ties to Hamas.Footnote 99 The reverberations of the incident coincided with Turkey’s no-vote against the UN sanctions on Iran in June 2010, further intensifying Western criticism against Turkey and raising questions regarding a potential shift away from the West.Footnote 100 US officials increasingly pressed Turkey to demonstrate its commitment to Western partnership and prove its role as a reliable ally.Footnote 101 Reaction from Europe, traditionally distinct from the US on issues surrounding Israel, was also strong. A member of the European Parliament considered Erdoğan’s aggressive policy against Israel as a sign of his ‘disinterest’ in continuing with EU accession talks.Footnote 102
In Turkey, the Israeli raid sparked outrage, with headlines such as ‘Israel has attacked’ (Hürriyet) and ‘Shots fired at humanity’ (Radikal). As with the Davos case, there were some domestic voices critical of the Turkish government’s handling of Turkish-Israeli relations and the Mavi Marmara snafu in particular. For example, members of opposition parties questioned whether the government could have provided more security before the flotilla set sail, given advance Israeli warnings.Footnote 103 Others warned the government of overreaction and urged for a balanced approach.Footnote 104 However, the seemingly disproportionate force employed by Israel and civilian deaths made the public’s anti-Israeli and pro-Palestinian sentiment visible. Mass demonstrations and protests spread across Turkey, where Turkish and Palestinian flags were displayed together along with banners such as ‘murderer Israel will answer’, ‘Turkish army to Gaza’, and ‘Israel will suffocate within the blood it has shed.’Footnote 105 The responses and strong rhetoric of the Turkish government resonated with anti-Israeli sentiment in the public. According to the results of a public opinion survey conducted by the Centre for Economic and Foreign Policy Studies (EDAM) in 2013, for example, only 7 per cent of the respondents thought that the Mavi Marmara incident should be set aside while 35 per cent of the public asked for an Israeli apology and compensation and 30 per cent demanded a lift of Israel’s embargo on Gaza.Footnote 106 Turkish commentators interpreted Erdoğan’s rhetoric as targeting the Israeli government and not the Israeli state or people, hence exhibiting an appropriate diplomatic tone corresponding to ‘Turkey’s honor’.Footnote 107 The image of Turkey as a growing power and Erdoğan as a regional leader were also suggested as a reason for the physical and rhetorical aggression by Israel. Emre Aköz, for example, argued that Turkey’s increasing power and influence in the region under the AKP began to be seen as a threat, suggesting that such attacks would ‘continue in the future as Turkey continues to grow in the region’.Footnote 108
Erdoğan’s reactions garnered support and drew praise from non-Western audiences in neighbouring countries and a broader group of partners such as the Arab League, OIC, Palestine, Nicaragua, and Brazil.Footnote 109 They condemned Israel, called for a full investigation into the incident, and demanded the lift of the Gaza blockade and either recalled their ambassadors from Israel (Ecuador, South Africa) or suspended their relations with Israel (Nicaragua). Turkey was portrayed as the ‘new Palestinian champion’ in Arab media.Footnote 110 Some observed that on the Palestinian issue, ‘Turkey has shown its independence [of US influence] and is also leading, in many, ways the Arab streets.’Footnote 111
Themes that had appeared after Davos continued to manifest after the Mavi Marmara. Erdoğan’s response in light of the Mavi Marmara was defiant. He defied Western and Israeli views, especially regarding Gaza and Hamas and did not accept any criticism directed at Turkish foreign policy. Erdoğan consistently described Hamas as a legitimate political party elected by the Palestinian people and maintained that a peace could not be achieved only by talks with El Fatah.Footnote 112 By accusing Israel of provoking Hamas and Gazans with its blockade and travel restrictions, Erdoğan justified Hamas’s attacks into Israel.Footnote 113 Erdoğan also contested claims about Turkey’s ‘axis shift’, especially in relation to Israel, retorting that these commentators could not or would not recognise the transformation the world has undergone. He claimed that Turkey raises its voice for Gaza and ‘put its heart out for Jerusalem’ not because of a ‘so-called axis shift or policy change’ but to ‘establish the rule of law and justice, bring peace to the region, and stop bloodshed and tears’.Footnote 114
Doubling down: Defiance and triumphalism in the face of criticism
How did these events that threatened the precarious Israel-Turkey relationship come to acquire such a sheen domestically? We argue that this happened because Erdoğan’s behaviour resonated with culturally intimate understandings of Erdoğan, of Turkey as well as Turkey’s role vis-à-vis Israel. Criticism of this behaviour, then, did not provoke an identity crisis but instead reasserted and reinforced domestic understandings.
Three themes dominated in these understandings: the depiction of Erdoğan as embodying a macho ‘Kasımpaşa’ attitude at odds with the decorum of international diplomacy, the idea that Erdoğan was harkening back to a lost era of Turkish power and authority in the world, last seen during the Ottoman age and lastly, the image of Turkey as a friend and saviour of the Palestinians. These themes channel the macro-understandings of Turkish identity explicated earlier.
Almost immediately, Erdoğan’s outburst at Davos was linked to his roots and the ‘macho code of honour’ he was raised by.Footnote 115 The headline of the mainstream Radikal blared, ‘Kasımpaşa Attitude in Davos’.Footnote 116 The Kasımpaşa image evokes certain values: a gritty working class ability to thrive in the ‘hood’, the triumph of the underdog and a certain brutish allure and it is part of Erdoğan’s lore. Kasımpaşalılık (being from Kasımpaşa) is offered as a key sociocultural reason for Erdoğan’s ‘brave decisions’, a reference that emphasises his style as a ‘leader from within the people’ to legitimise his language and behaviour. As Türk suggests, both Erdoğan himself and his supporters consistently underline his Kasımpaşa roots as a point of belonging and identity.Footnote 117 For Erdoğan, Kasımpaşalılık is not only ‘the name of being unambigious and intrepid’ but also an ‘ardor and longing’.Footnote 118
In this light, while Erdoğan’s display of machismo, boorishness, or aggressiveness may have been disconcerting and disorienting in front of the Davos audience, with its more reticent attitude and its adherence to normative universal modes of diplomatic conduct; in a culturally intimate reading they become qualities to be admired. What was culturally intimate about his modus operandi was cast as ‘backward or un-modern’ when contrasted with these modes, following Subotic and Zarakol’s logic. Characterising the Davos outburst as ‘nothing new’, Aydıntaşbaş explicitly read it as such: ‘Westerners hate public confrontation; Erdoğan thrives on it.’Footnote 119 Pelin Turgut, echoing other critical elements of the Turkish press, also noted this rift saying that ‘on the global stage, machismo has its limits’. However, in the domestic context, Erdoğan’s behaviour was seen to embody an ability to speak truth to Israel’s power in the vein of David to Goliath. Erdoğan had already channelled this approach to criticism and contending with political opponents in the domestic realm effectively, as ‘each of his outbursts increased Erdoğan’s aura of awe and authority’.Footnote 120 Judging from the resounding welcome accorded to Erdoğan, the manifestation of his Kasımpaşa persona on the Davos stage had its domestic adherents.
Secondly, Erdoğan’s interventions evoked strains of the familiar civilisational, Ottoman-inflected, elements of the AKP’s discourse. As Aydıntaşbaş contends, Erdoğan’s combativeness is symptomatic of governing a nation that once spanned three continents and thus restored ‘a sense of lost pride’ for Turkey. This discourse was evident in the trope of ‘conquering’ present in the virtual and real reception of Erdoğan.Footnote 121 As the pro-AKP Vakit paper headline screamed, Davos was an ‘Ottoman slap in the face for Israel.’Footnote 122 After Mavi Marmara too, Erdoğan made the Ottoman link by claiming that Turkey ‘acts with the mission of its history, civilization and state tradition’.Footnote 123 He maintained, ‘We are reacting (to Israel) as the grandchildren of the Ottomans who had welcomed you on this land as we have always been on the side of the oppressed.’Footnote 124
The related idea of Turkey as the ‘centre country’ also comes into play. While considering the region as Turkey’s ‘unavoidable hinterland’, the AKP tried to turn Turkey into the ‘regional diplomacy center’ by actively seeking a ‘mediator’ role between many conflicting parties, such as Israel-Syria, Israel-Palestine, and Hamas-El Fatah.Footnote 125 In this vein, since 2008, Erdoğan and Davutoğlu portrayed Israel’s policies in the region as serious threats that undermine not only Turkey’s role of diplomatic centre and game-maker country but also its legitimacy in the view of the Syrians and Palestinians. At Davos, Erdoğan revealed that four days before Operation Cast Lead, he was on the phone with Olmert negotiating a prisoner swap between Israel and Hamas and after Mavi Marmara Davutoğlu blamed Israel for ‘once again’ destroying the chance of talks with Syria, which were to be held in Washington that year.Footnote 126 This coincides with the long-standing domestic self-representation of Turkey as central saviour and Israel as perennial spoiler of regional peace.
The third element revolved around Turkish sentiment about Israel’s record in Gaza, which came to the fore under the prior Erbakan government. Given the AKP’s and Erdoğan’s ideological roots and Turkey’s pursuit of a role as regional peace-broker, Erdoğan’s rebuke of Israel confirmed popular understandings of the AKP’s and Turkey’s historical allegiance to the Palestinian and pan-Muslim cause. Observers did not miss the significance of the domestic audience in this incident from the outset regardless of Erdoğan’s genuine feelings on the issue.Footnote 127 Turgut predicted that Erdoğan’s outburst would ‘not easily be forgotten in Israel nor go unnoticed by Washington’ but noted that ‘by expressing the sentiments of the Arab streets, he will have boosted Turkey’s standing in the Arab world’.Footnote 128 Erdoğan’s popularity went up by ten points after Davos and ‘he earned the attention of the Arab street as a champion of the Palestinian cause’.Footnote 129 Public opinion polls such as the 2011 TESEV poll and the 2013 Pew Global Survey found that 40 per cent viewed Israel as hostile to Turkey and 75 per cent of the Turkish public has a ‘very unfavourable’ opinion of Israel, lending credence to this possible calculation.Footnote 130
Davos brought to the fore Turkish culturally intimate understandings and uncovered a hitherto carefully managed discourse regarding Israel and Gaza, which the Mavi Marmara incident decisively upset. The incidents underlined domestically salient understandings of Erdoğan’s personality and leadership style, Turkey’s image as the protector of the Palestinian people and its role as a vanguard player drawing from a civilisational discourse that accords Turkey a special role in the region and beyond. They exposed a crystallising political culture centred on machismo and belligerence that might have led to potential embarrassment for Turkey from important Western allies. However, Erdoğan’s ‘dangerous macho posturing’,Footnote 131 as described by some observers, reflected resonant understandings of Erdoğan as a strong leader, of Turkish assertiveness as well as of Turkey as a strong advocate for peace in the region.
What this resulted in was not shame, guilt, or embarrassment but instead a display of defiance, triumphalism, and engagement. This ability to defy and contest criticism rested on the particular and high salience of Israel in the self-perception of the Turkish self, coupled with the positive assessment of the Turkish public of Erdoğan’s leadership, personality, and stance.
Indeed, Erdoğan not only defied international criticism but also contested the underlying reasons for and the legitimacy of this criticism, counter-attacking Western interlocutors. In one prominent speech for instance, he blamed Western ‘inattentiveness’ for what he characterised as ‘Israel’s inhumanity’ and pointed to the United Nation’s failure to achieve international peace as reasons for the persistence of violence and injustice in the region. In addressing criticism of himself, he attributed these critiques to his ‘truth-telling’, noting that ‘the person who speaks the truth is not liked anywhere in the world’.Footnote 132
Erdoğan has indeed been increasingly vocal on the subject of criticism in international and domestic venues. In March 2016, after a relatively disastrous-for-PR visit to the US which saw, most notably, a scuffle between Erdoğan’s bodyguards and assembled media at an event and a public rebuke of Erdoğan’s handling of the press freedom by President Obama, Erdoğan addressed the question of criticism directly. Erdoğan said he was ‘saddened’ by Obama’s comments, which he characterised as unexpected and made ‘behind his back’. More significantly for our purposes, he drew a distinction between ‘criticism’ and ‘insults’, arguing that the press treatment of him belonged in the latter camp and that such insults were not permitted in Western press either.Footnote 133 This rhetorical move betrays a cognisance of Western criticism but allows Erdoğan to frame it in a manner, that is, ‘insult’ that allows for a more ready rejection of its substance. Here too, Erdoğan was not cowed by Western scrutiny of the incident, instead choosing strategies that put the onus back on actors such as the Western press or even Obama.
Thus Erdoğan’s responses do betray an awareness of the international gaze but his behaviour signals non-acceptance of these negative discourses and representations. For Subotic and Zarakol, Turkey’s responses would be consistent with either shame resulting from Turkey’s comparatively weak position as a ‘particularly stigmatised’ state in the international system or, embarrassment if Turkey did not see a fundamental flaw in the criticised behaviour but was worried about being ‘misconstrued and misrepresented’ by the external audience. In their examination of Serbia, they point to behaviour that ostensibly looks like Turkey under Erdoğan: opposition, rejection, denial, and ‘hostile bravado’. They read this as ‘avoidance’ because of the juxtaposition of conciliatory efforts and gestures towards the West, with no acknowledgment of the underlying reasons for international criticism. However in the cases we have examined there were few such signs of contradiction. Not only did Erdoğan or the AKP make no attempts to change or modify criticised behaviour, they doubled down on and even escalated it in the face of criticism. Further, they made defiant and non-conciliatory gestures towards their accusers and cultivated other partners. Erdoğan’s behaviour rested on salient (and positively received) domestic understandings that when exposed reasserted themselves. Domestic resonance, and not shame-based avoidance, might account for the escalation of his rhetoric and strategies in the face of external pressure on Israel. This opens up the possibility that other emotions, such as pride, indignation, anger, self-righteousness, or scorn may also be consistent with behaviour such as denial and rejection.
Our case suggests that disjunctures between external and internal understandings of norms may not always constitute a crisis. When culturally intimate understandings come in for external criticism, the resulting rifts could also present opportunities to demarcate and further clarify or solidify state identity. Political elites may reap benefits from international criticism and exert their influence for political gains. Erdoğan and his protégés were able to strategically use international criticism for enhancing Turkey’s and his own position at home, in the region, and beyond.Footnote 134 For Erdoğan, a clash with Israel and ensuing Western criticism partially worked in his favour because it is in the context of international criticism that the culturally intimate understanding of Turkish identity and his leadership is reproduced, highlighted, and maintained.
Do crises of cultural intimacy make structurally weaker states internalise external criticism? While our analysis does not contradict Subotic and Zarakol’s assertion that there is a ‘structural dimension manifested in the emotional responses of states’,Footnote 135 it does point to the nuances of determining a state’s structural position. If one takes seriously that contestation is not necessarily a sign of shameful ‘avoidance’ behaviour, our case complicates the pervasive characterisation of Turkey as a once-powerful, now-weak state smarting from its historical decline.Footnote 136 The evidence for this has rested on Turkey’s relatively weaker economy and long-pending EU accession process. We argue that this reading is limited. First, structural position, especially in the manner Subotic and Zarakol define it, is not static and is subject to efforts to revise them by agents. The AKP, and Erdoğan himself, has actively sought to shape and change this perception of Turkey throughout the 2000s. Secondly, because of its geo-strategic importance, role as Western ally, image as a modern and moderate Muslim state and its centrality to key issues ranging from Iran, Middle East, or even the ongoing Syrian refugee crisis, it is not possible to cast Turkey as an unambiguously weak state. More cynically, the threat of instability in Turkey and at its borders also gives it a dubious but effective type of leverage over the West. Weakness does not necessarily preclude other sorts of leverage, thus making rejection of criticism viable. Further, our analysis behooves the consideration of factors other than the criticised state’s structural position in ascertaining its emotional responses and consequent behaviour. The saliency of the foreign policy issue for domestic audience, particularly its role in the perception/construction of the Self, may also prevent or create ontological crises. The relative importance and salience of the issue at hand for the recipient state and how leaders exploit it also impacts upon the emotions it triggers.
For Subotic and Zarakol, the type of emotional response determines how states manage their ‘negative international image’ and address the practices that invoked criticism in the first place.Footnote 137 Our analysis raises questions about the extent to which Western criticism is successful in achieving its goals and how it plays into Turkey’s changing relationship with the ‘West’. Western criticism in the aftermath of both Davos and Mavi Marmara was accompanied by a reassertion of Turkey’s regional ties as well as relationships with non-Western powers and met with approval from these audiences. Far from having the intended impact that ‘shaming’ is designed to have – that is, to socialise and effect changes stemming from self-reflection; criticism and shaming may cause the recipient state to cultivate alternative audiences that are more amenable of the culturally intimate practice in question. This points to the need to resist operationalising international criticism as emanating purely from Western states and institutions. While some powerful actors may deem a state or its practices ‘unmodern, backward or trapped in history’, other, salient actors may positively interpret, validate, and confirm the very same practices. A variety of significant others may be important in the formation and maintenance of state identity.
Conclusions and further research
Our endeavor in this article has been to extend the range of states’ emotional responses to international criticism and demonstrate how political leaders may capitalise on negative appraisals. While we focus on Turkey’s posture towards Israel, there are various domestic and international issues where we might find a similar disjuncture between international and domestic norms, for those interested in Turkish foreign policy. In recent years, Western criticism ranges from particular foreign policy positions – such as dissatisfaction with the extent of Turkish cooperation in combating ISIL, Turkey’s stance on Russia’s policy towards Ukraine, its support of the Muslim Brotherhood, voting against UN sanctions on Iran as well as support for leaders such as Sudan’s Omer El Bashir and Hamas’s Khaled Mashaal – to criticism of broader foreign policy relationships. Criticism of domestic policies has also mounted in tandem with the perceived efforts to curtail civil liberties at home and the increasing authoritarian proclivities of Erdoğan, a low-point being the government’s crack down on the Gezi park protests in 2013. These issues as well as recent incidents such as Turkey’s defiant behaviour in the wake of its shooting of a Russian fighter jet over the Syrian border in November 2015 or Erdoğan’s adept use of emotional diplomacy during ongoing negotiations on the refugee crisis with the European Union provide fertile and ever more relevant ground to both assess and extend our analysis in this article. Erdoğan’s own keen sensitivity to criticism or ‘insults’, in his terms, most recently evidenced in Turkey’s attempts to press Germany to prosecute a German comedian for a ‘deliberately offensive’ comedy segment on Erdoğan, also ensures ample opportunities to probe the dynamics central to this article.
Turkey is not the only context in which to explore these questions. Future work could examine the applicability of our argument in other states with similar complex relationships with the ‘West’ and similarly ambiguous structural positions. Examining the handling of external criticism by Russian President Putin and Indian Prime Minister Modi are two such particularly rife contexts.
Acknowledgements
The authors wish to thank Lerna Yanik, Nil Satana, Ilker Ayturk, Akin Unver, Zeynep Dagi, participants at conferences at Cukurova University and Kadir Has University as well as our three anonymous reviewers for their valuable comments and insights. An early draft of this article was presented at the International Studies Association meeting in 2015.
