The history of modern Turkey is often depicted as an exemplary story of secular nationalization. Consistent with a modernist understanding of nationalism as a “secular ideology that replaces the religious systems found in premodern, traditional societies,” such accounts present an evolutionary transformation from an Islamic Ottoman past to a secular Turkish present.Footnote 1 Modernist scholars argue that the emergent Turkish Republic's project of institutional secularization at the turn of the 20th century eliminated religion from the public sphere and established a secular grounding for modern Turkish national identity.Footnote 2 Recently scholars have begun to scrutinize this approach, highlighting the important role of religion in the formation of Turkish nationhood and in national policies. For example, some have traced the roots of Turkish national identity to the Ottoman millet system (which organized the population by confessional community); others have demonstrated a strong emphasis on religion in state policy, including in regard to immigration and taxation.Footnote 3 Another body of literature focused on secularism has criticized the depiction of Turkish secularism as an aggressive elimination of religion from the public sphere, showing how the regulation of religion in Turkey has involved processes far more complex than mere repression.Footnote 4 Scholars have shown that secular power “accommodated and integrated Islam into the system in various ways,”Footnote 5 through, for example, the institutional privileging of Sunni Islam over Alevi Islam, the political accommodation of powerful Sufi orders (tarikat), and the institutionalization of prayer leader schools. With few exceptions, however, this critical scholarship neglects Turkey's attempt to generate a pious and patriotic defense force through the institution that is most readily identified with the secular regime: the Turkish military.Footnote 6
The article has two objectives. The first of these is to explore Turkey's appropriation of Islamic discourses of jihad and martyrdom in cultivating military obligations and sensibilities. To pursue this objective, I look at the religious content of conscripts’ military education and the extension of this content to the civilian curriculum after the 1980 coup. I show that, rather than abandoning prerepublican religious values attached to soldiering, the Turkish Republic refashioned these values and channeled them toward the interests of secular nationalism. This rechanneling enabled the staunchest defender of secularism in Turkey—the Turkish military—to enjoy strong religious legitimacy, and perpetuated popular support for conscription despite the thousands of lives claimed by the continuing Turkish–Kurdish conflict.
The second objective is to analyze the Islamist conscientious objection movement based upon ethnographic data that I collected through interviews with Islamist conscientious objectors (COs). COs oppose the validity of the state's nationalist and militarist interpretation of Islam. Informed by the Qurʾan, the hadith (sayings attributed to the Prophet Muhammad), and socialist and anarchist thought, they interpret religious concepts invoked in Turkish military discourse, such as jihad and martyrdom, in a way that negates rather than supports national obligations such as military service, especially in the context of a conflict with another Muslim community (i.e., the Kurds). In so doing, COs represent a powerful challenge to the religious foundations of Turkish militarism. The Islamist conscientious objection movement demonstrates not only the diversity of Islamic groups and sensibilities in contemporary Turkey, but also the difficulties faced by nationalist projects to discipline religious imaginaries and put them to the service of the modern state.
NATIONALISM AND SECULARISM IN TURKEY
Turkish modernization is conventionally depicted as “the most radical secular revolution” to have occurred in the Muslim world.Footnote 7 This depiction stresses that radical early republican reforms modernized the legal system, the institutional structure, and social norms inherited from the Ottoman era while also establishing a new territorially defined and civic conception of Turkish nationhood,Footnote 8 all resulting in a “radical rupture with the Islamic past.”Footnote 9 This account further suggests that Turkish secularism has involved authoritarian state repression of religion rather than an institutional separation of religion and state. Ahmet Kuru has described this mode of secularism as “assertive”: “the state excludes religion from the public sphere and plays an ‘assertive’ role as the agent of a social engineering project that confines religion to the private domain.”Footnote 10 Kuru comments that this social engineering project has, for example, “outlawed private Islamic education and teaching the Koran to children under the age of twelve, banned prayer or other religious expressions in public schools, and promoted an individualized version of Islam in state schools.”Footnote 11 Importantly, the Turkish military is identified as the primary institutional force that sustains and defends assertive secularism, through coups if need be (as it has done four times).Footnote 12
This account has recently come under criticism. Rather than pioneering “a radical rupture” with the Islamic past, scholars have argued, Turkish modernization incorporated religion as a constitutive element of nationhood. Şener Aktürk has suggested, for example, that “the multi-ethnic Muslim millet (‘nation of Islam’), which existed as a legal and social category in the Ottoman Empire for 470 years (1453–1923), persisted in the Republic of Turkey as the unofficial definition of Turkish nationhood, but the discursive legitimation of this definition shifted from religious affiliation per se to participation in the War of Liberation as a Muslim front against non-Muslim enemies.”Footnote 13 As Sinem Gürbey notes, that religion—rather than ethnicity or language—was integral to Turkish nationhood is further demonstrated by early republican nation-building policies.Footnote 14 In the population exchange between Greece and Turkey in 1923, for instance, Turkish-speaking Christians were exchanged with Greek-speaking Muslims in Greece. Mesut Yeğen has similarly shown that far from rendering Muslimhood irrelevant, the republican state made it the “key to achieving Turkishness” for ethnic minorities, especially the Kurds.Footnote 15
The view that Turkish secularism is hostile to religion and eliminated it from the public sphere has also been disputed. Rather than disestablishing religion, secular nationalization in Turkey brought it under strict state control. The institutional locus of this control has been the Diyanet İşleri Başkanlığı (Directorate of Religious Affairs),Footnote 16 which was established after the abolition of the caliphate in 1924 and the state's appropriation of the properties of pious foundations. As Andrew Davison has noted, overseeing “all cases concerning the Exalted Islamic Faith which relate to beliefs (itikadat) and rituals of worship (ibadat),” the Directorate authorizes and disseminates a specific version of Sunni Islam that is compatible with secular modernization and nationalism.Footnote 17 Şerif Mardin refers to this version of Islam as “official Islam,” promoted by the state as rational and enlightened.Footnote 18 By contrast, the state has portrayed religious interpretations and practices conflicting with this version of Islam, and thus challenging the image of enlightened religiosity, as superstitious and reactionary. In some cases, it has coercively repressed them,Footnote 19 as with the crackdown on tarikats during the early republican era or the controversial ban on female headscarves in schools until 2011 and in public offices until 2013.Footnote 20 In terms of beliefs and practices that are consistent with “official Islam” and thus beneficial to state interests, the state incorporates them into ideals and practices of secular nationalism and actively promotes them. As a result, rather than unmitigated hostility, Turkish secularism entails a pragmatic approach to religion that involves selective promotion and frequent accommodation.
A vivid example of this pragmatism is the projection of Islamic values onto the institution most readily identified with the secular regime: the Turkish military. On the surface, the popular religious veneration of the modern Turkish army—conventionally referred to as “Peygamber Ocağı” (Hearth of the Prophet)—and the use of honorific religious idioms such as gazi (warrior fighting for Islam) and şehit (religious martyrs) to refer to injured and deceased members may appear as cultural residues of an Islamic past that have survived institutional secularization.Footnote 21 But, as we shall see, it was the republican state that systematically cultivated this religious veneration. Beginning with secular nationalists’ portrayal of the Turkish War of Independence (1919–22) as a jihad against invading forces, the Turkish state has continually appropriated the traditional religious connotations of militarism and rechanneled them toward bolstering secular nationalism.Footnote 22 Although understudied in the literature on Turkish secularism and the military, the institution of universal conscription is perhaps the most influential medium in this effort.
MILITARY TRAINING OF CONSCRIPTS
Established in 1927, universal conscription is codified in the Turkish constitution as both a right and duty of citizenship. Throughout its existence it has served as a pedagogical tool for the state to transform the nation's young men into model citizens.Footnote 23 While in service, conscripts are inculcated with basic knowledge about modern governmental institutions, social formations, and economic structures, and given essential skills for operating within them. In acquiring these skills, conscripts are also prepared to become educators themselves,Footnote 24 for on reentering civil society they are expected to disseminate what they have been taught to other citizens, especially women, who are not conscripted into the army. Universal conscription is thus critical to engineering a disciplined citizenry that cooperates with the secular regime and reproduces its governing principles.
While sociopolitical modernization pursued through conscription has been frequently studied, the use of Islam in military training has received scant attention. The Turkish state trains conscripts not only in modern forms of knowledge but also in a particular version of Islam. This religious education is based on a textbook prepared by the Directorate in 1925, which since then has seen seven editions, the last appearing in 2002. Entitled Askere Din Kitabı (The Book on Religion for the Soldier), the book is intended to create a pious and obedient national defense force by generating patriotic religious dispositions and nationalist sentiments.Footnote 25 Several of its recurrent themes warrant attention. First, the book links the Turkish people's allegedly invincible military ethos to the strength and purity of their faith (iman). Addressed as “God's sword,” conscripts are invited to honor their glorious military history by performing military duties with religious zeal.Footnote 26 This association between military glory and religious fervor is further reinforced by the codification of conscription as a dual obligation of citizenship and Islam, a way of “paying your blood and life-tax” to the state and of fulfilling the Islamic requirement of jihad.Footnote 27 The invocation of jihad in this context lacks any theological elaboration or depth. In fact, the book eschews theological elaboration of any kind in favor of the rhetorical and cursory use of religious concepts, possibly to render its message accessible to all segments of the population, the uneducated included.Footnote 28
An important goal of this rhetorical use of Islamic concepts is to prevent desertion. Soldiers are taught that “eternal punishment awaits those who desert the army or run away from combat.”Footnote 29 But there is also an attempt to instill enthusiasm for performing military obligations. For example, one line reads, “Our Prophet decreed: ‘Run to the barracks when you are called for service.’ Our obligation is to obey this command and to run to the barracks with joy.”Footnote 30 In such appeals, a difficult obligation of citizenship is represented as a desirable experience through which religious fulfillment can be sought and religious worth can be proven.
Among the honors associated with military service, the most important is perhaps martyrdom, “the highest honor in Islam after the rank of the Prophet.”Footnote 31 If need be, soldiers must be prepared to sacrifice their lives for the nation and thereby achieve martyr status. However, a healthy passion for martyrdom should not be confused with suicidal military conduct, a formidable sin in Islam. Warning the soldiers against such a misinterpretation, the book stresses that a soldier's primary objective in battle must be to stay alive and fight to the end, and not to pursue death at the expense of victory.Footnote 32 This emphasis is important insofar as it reveals the army's cautious attempt to counterbalance the glorification of selfless military conduct with the nation's need for effective defense of the homeland. Military education is intended to cultivate not a blind quest for martyrdom but a disciplined martial heroism that advances national interests and state prerogatives.
Finally, martyrdom discourse operates as a powerful tool with which the state and the military provide the nation psychological relief and resilience when lives are lost in the line of duty. The need for such support has been especially acute since the onset of the Kurdish insurgency in 1984. Thousands of conscripts have lost their lives in military operations against the Partiya Karkeyrên Kurdistan (PKK; Kurdistan Workers’ Party). In emphasizing martyrdom discourse, intensified as a result of the war, the military promises immortality to those put in harm's way while assuring the broader community of the value of national sacrifice.Footnote 33
In sum, by integrating pre-republican Islamic values of soldiering within military conscript training, the military has attempted to engender a pious and patriotic citizenry that dutifully performs its military obligations and complies with state policies and practices.
THE TURKISH–ISLAMIC SYNTHESIS AND THE SCHOOL CURRICULUM AFTER THE 1980 COUP
The Kurdish insurgency and the conditions of sociopolitical insecurity to which the war between the state and the PKK gave rise, facilitated the extension of the religious content of military education to the civilian sphere. This development was part of a broader sociopolitical transformation that occurred in Turkey beginning in 1980. In that year, the Turkish military intervened in politics through a military coup for the third time, taking the reigns of government for a period of three years. The military justified the coup as a patriotic response to political disintegration and social chaos produced by the previous decade's ideological struggles, laying particular blame on communism. In an effort to suppress communism's appeal, the junta forged an alliance with the sponsors of an ideological movement known as the Türk–Islam Sentezi (Turkish–Islamic Synthesis).Footnote 34 Developed by a group of conservative intellectuals known as Aydınlar Ocagi (Hearth of the Enlightened),Footnote 35 the Turkish–Islamic Synthesis was a cultural program advocating the systematic integration of Sunni Islamic values into Turkish culture.Footnote 36 It aimed to create a pious and docile population supportive of national unity centered around Turkish identity, a paternalistic form of governance, and a strong military. The junta government officially endorsed the Turkish–Islamic Synthesis, after which it inaugurated a substantial revision of the national school curriculum.Footnote 37
As Sam Kaplan has shown, the most striking feature of the revised curriculum was its emphasis on the Islamic significance of martial valor. Similar to military conscripts, students in national schools were now taught that the Turks—“a nation of soldiers from birth”—converted to Islam because this religion best “fit their spirit of warfare.”Footnote 38 On the topic of fallen soldiers, the curriculum emphasized the Islamic significance of national sacrifice, drawing upon the religious traditions of gazi and şehit.Footnote 39 For example, the eighth-grade reader stressed the religious meaning of sacrificial citizenship dispositions: “People who sacrifice their own existence for that of the nation and state are worthy of love and respect. They shoulder an important responsibility toward God in their duties.”Footnote 40 The reader addressed male students directly: “My son, let him grow up and become a soldier. If he dies he will be a martyr for the faith, if he lives, a holy warrior.”Footnote 41 Yet it was not only boys who were subject to this curriculum; girls would also be trained in the classroom to appreciate the Islamic value of national defense. In fusing military sentiments with religiosity, the national curriculum contributed to the religious legitimization of conscription while sanctioning authoritarian governance and the military's operations.
Ironically, the turn toward religion after the 1980 coup unintentionally allowed the Islamist and Islam-sensitive parties to gradually gain political power, culminating in the takeover by Turkey's current moderate Islamist ruling party, Adelet ve Kalkınma Partisi (AKP; Justice and Development Party).Footnote 42 An offshoot of the Islamist Refah Partisi (Welfare Party) that briefly ruled in coalition with secular parties before being ousted from power by the military in 1997, the AKP has been in power since 2002. The party has been promoted as the progressive and liberal face of Islam, and has thus appealed not only to pious Muslims but also to right-of-center and liberal segments of the population. During its first term in government (2002–7) in particular it championed global integration, economic development, and a liberal model of secularism characterized by tolerance, individual freedom, and an open and free public sphere. The most important political achievement for which the party is credited is the disempowerment of the Turkish military, a feat it accomplished through two government-backed investigations—Ergenekon and Sledgehammer—launched in response to the discovery of grenades in a retired military officer's house in 2007. The investigations implicated hundreds of active and retired officers in alleged attempts to stage a coup against the AKP.Footnote 43 While the controversy surrounding the investigations continues—especially with respect to the use of suspicious and inconsistent evidence, long detentions without charge, leaking of information to the pro-AKP press, and the extension of the investigation's reach to civilian critics of the government—the military no longer casts a shadow over politics.Footnote 44
Yet the disempowerment of the military has not led to the democratization of civilian politics. On the contrary, the AKP's victory over the military and other challengers to its rule led to its assumption of an authoritarian face: it has made increasing use of the legal system and the police force to crush opposition. This transformation has been accompanied by the party's growing emphasis on the religious symbolism of military matters and patriotism. For instance, the celebration of the Ottoman Empire's 1453 conquest of Istanbul has reached unparalleled extravagance under AKP rule. The party has also inaugurated controversial projects aimed at reviving Ottoman military grandeur, such as the reconstruction of the historic Ottoman Barracks over Taksim's Gezi Park, which ignited nationwide protests during the summer of 2013.Footnote 45 Prime Minister Erdoğan himself adamantly highlighted the religious value of military duties. In a recent response to EU pressure on Turkey to legalize conscientious objection, which is not recognized in Turkey,Footnote 46 he commented that “conscientious objection has never been in our government's agenda. Military service has been considered as a most sacred national duty. There is a reason that we call our soldiers Mehmetçik, which means ‘little Muhammad.’ We see military service as ‘the Hearth of Muhammad.’”Footnote 47 The AKP's continued emphasis on the religious value of military service and portrayal of military service as an authentic indicator of patriotism suggests that it endorsed the Turkish state tradition of using Islam to generate a pious and patriotic military ethos.Footnote 48 The party's successive electoral victories (in the 2002, 2007, and 2011 general elections) demonstrate that Turkey's Muslims apparently approved this endorsement. In sum, rather than initiate a critical reevaluation of the instrumental uses of religion by the state, the AKP government continues to use Islamic discourses to militarize nationalist sentiments, and thus helps sustain the popular prestige of military service.Footnote 49
CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTION AND THE CASE OF ENVER AYDEMIR
Given this long history of culturally strong and politically orchestrated entanglement between religion and militarism, it is not surprising that Turkey's small conscientious objection movement was initially secularist.Footnote 50 The movement emerged in the early 1990s out of an antiwar protest, and its first activists were anarchists and atheists. One of these activists, Vedat Zencir, explained his conscientious objection as follows: “I value the life of each individual to be as sacred as mine without attributing any religious significance to it. Thus, I cannot be part of any institution that sets out to kill for any reason.”Footnote 51 The movement went through several phases and gradually came to include participants with different political convictions.Footnote 52 By the mid-2000s, activists self-identifying as feminist, gay, and Kurdish became prominent voices within the movement.Footnote 53 The result of antimilitarism’s expanded social outreach, the new COs targeted the sexist and homophobic character of militarism in Turkey and the continued oppression of the Kurds. However, religious pacifism, or a critique of militarism grounded in religion, was not part of antimilitarist politics and discourse in Turkey until 2007, when a pious Muslim, Enver Aydemir, declared his conscientious objection.
Aydemir's struggle began in July 2007 after he was taken forcibly to a soldiers training brigade in Bilecik, a small town in northwestern Anatolia, to perform his compulsory military service. Then thirty-three years old, Aydemir was a CO and had previously informed the local draft office of this position. At the Brigade, he reaffirmed his position and refused to don the military uniform. This gave rise to an arduous struggle between Aydemir and the Turkish military that played out in the courts, where the crux of the issue was the legal ambiguity of CO status in Turkey. While the United Nations and the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) define conscientious objection as a human right to freedom of thought, conscience, religion, and belief,Footnote 54 Turkey refuses to acknowledge conscientious objection either as a right or, indeed, as an offense.Footnote 55 As a result, COs are charged with crimes that do not accord with their action. These crimes include “desertion” and “persistent insubordination,” as described in the Turkish Military Criminal Code, and “discouraging individuals from performing military service,” as stated in Article 318 of the Turkish Penal Code (former Article 155).Footnote 56 The latter offense is prosecuted more severely if committed through public means of communication and print media, in which case it is considered an “aggravating circumstance” that increases the punishment by half (Articles 218 and 318).Footnote 57
Accordingly, Aydemir was prosecuted for offenses other than conscientious objection. First he was arrested for disobedience and jailed in Eskisehir military prison for several months. In October 2007 he was brought before a military court but released on the condition he promptly present himself to his unit. Aydemir did not join his unit, leading to another warrant for his arrest. In December 2009 he was arrested after a random identity check on a visit to Istanbul, where he had been invited to deliver a speech on conscientious objection.Footnote 58 Once again he was transferred to Eskisehir military prison. Aydemir remained behind bars until his next trial on 30 March 2010 at which he was charged with desertion and sentenced to ten months in prison. Already having served much of this time during his pretrial detention, he was commanded to join his military unit, initiating yet another round of disobedience and sentencing. This cycle continued until his last trial in June of 2010 where the charge was persistent insubordination. This time the court decided that instead of returning him to jail or his unit, it would send him to the Gülhane Military Medical Academy (GATA) in Ankara for psychiatric assessment. Consistent with his previous conduct, Aydemir refused to wear military clothing or to undergo psychiatric testing at GATA. Nevertheless, he was issued a medical report exempting him from military service on the grounds that he suffered from antisocial personality disorder, which made him unfit to serve.Footnote 59
This Kafkaesque legal experience has been shared by other COs since the emergence of the CO movement in Turkey. As human rights lawyer Hülya Üçpınar reports, COs’ lives in Turkey are fractured by arbitrary interference and severe restrictions.Footnote 60 In addition to facing the constant threat of imprisonment, they are deprived of fundamental citizenship rights such as the right to vote. Because they are ineligible for formal employment, they also face the threat of poverty.Footnote 61 COs find relief from these difficulties only if and when their opposition to conscription on ethical, political, or religious grounds is delegitimized as pathological. The latter tends to take one of two forms. The first is branding the insistence on CO status as a sign of antisocial personality disorder, which is what happened in Aydemir's case. The second is applying to CO cases military regulations against conscripting homosexuals, a group the army considers categorically unfit to serve.Footnote 62 In the case of COs who are also gay, the courts rely on these regulations to disavow the political character of their resistance. Thus, either through dubious mental assessments or homophobic military regulations, COs are stripped of political agency, foreclosing their broader visibility in Turkey's public sphere.
Yet what distinguishes Aydemir's case from other similar cases is that Aydemir's stance is rooted in his Islamist worldview. It was Aydemir's opposition to the secular character of the state and the army's role in protecting it that led him to become a CO. In his view, the secular regime prevented pious Muslims from fulfilling a fundamental requirement of their religion to live life in “total submission” to God.Footnote 63 Moreover, by propagating an “official religion” through the Directorate, the state sought to create “obedient Muslims” compatible with its secular structure, a political project in which the Turkish army was a leading actor. And as a devout Muslim who “refuses the official Turkish religion,” it was impossible for Aydemir to become a soldier and defend this system, for doing so would mean violating his deepest values.Footnote 64
Aydemir's ascription of sovereignty to God, and his consequent rejection of secular democracy and the nation-state system, renders his religious worldview both similar and distinct from that associated with radical Islam in Turkey. Radical Islam emerged in Turkey during the 1970s but has remained marginal to Turkish politics. The most prominent groups, such as the Turkey branch of Hizbullah, were founded in the 1980s after the state, following the military coup, showed benign neglect toward Islamic political mobilization. These groups champion the violent overthrow of the secular regime and its replacement with an Islamic order.Footnote 65 Among their constituents, the popularity of the army—the “guardian” of the secular regime—is naturally low.
In their rejection of democratic sovereignty and secular legal structures, and in their desire to create an Islamic order, Aydemir and radical Islamists share commonalities. However, their tactics and interpretations of Islam are both starkly different. To begin, Aydemir rejects the violent methods of radical Islam, and considers groups such as Hizbullah, which frequently use violence, as “perversions of Islamism.”Footnote 66 Moreover, unlike the adherents of these groups, Aydemir has progressive views on gender equality, social diversity, and tolerance. While he favors the establishment of an Islamic order based on the Qurʾan, he argues that within this order women and men should be treated as equals, and secularists, non-Muslims, and atheists should not face repression. Finally, unlike radical Islamists, Aydemir confronted the secular regime over the institution of conscription, and he did so nonviolently and with a willingness to submit to the consequences of his actions.Footnote 67 These differences preclude categorizing Aydemir as a radical Islamist.
The disapproval of Aydemir's conscientious objection in popular Islamist media is further evidence that his religiosity does not accord with prevalent Islamist orientations. Turkey's highly circulated newspaper Zaman, run by the powerful Gülen movement, presented Aydemir's act as inauthentic and unpatriotic.Footnote 68 According to the prominent Islamist intellectual Ali Bulaç, who writes for the paper, conscientious objection is a foreign adaptation alien to and unsupported by Islam.Footnote 69 In a similar vein, the AKP-supporting newspaper Yeni Safak criticized Aydemir for abandoning the Islamic obligation to serve in defense of the community.Footnote 70 Discussions in radical religious-nationalist blogs were more hostile, condemning Islamist conscientious objection as a “deviant” practice that reflects the degeneration of Islam in Turkey.Footnote 71
This widespread opposition reaffirms the view that dominant Islamist groups in contemporary Turkey—including the AKP and Gülen—endorse rather than challenge the militarist-nationalist interpretation of Islam that has been utilized by the state in support of Turkish militarism since the foundation of the republic. Given the prevalence of this view over time, Aydemir's religious outlook and the Islamist conscientious objection it inspired represent still marginal, emergent Islamic outlooks in Turkey. Buttressing this view is the fact that within Turkey's Islamic public sphere only small and marginal groups have supported Aydemir. The most prominent of these groups is Antikapitalist Müslümanlar (Anti-Capitalist Muslims), which is made up of students who follow the teachings of the prolific Muslim intellectual İhsan Eliaçık. Influenced by the democratic philosophy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and by socialism, Eliaçık professes a modernist interpretation of Islam.Footnote 72
While politically marginal, the Islamist CO movement and groups such as Antikapitalist Müslümanlar convey the increasing diversity of religious orientations in contemporary Turkey. They deploy new technologies and communication networks to spread their message and forge connections with other social actors. While the long-term consequences of their political opposition remain to be seen, Islamist conscientious objection raises an urgent question: How does this new form of resistance relate to, and challenge, the religious valuation of military service? And what are its broader consequences? To answer these questions, I now turn to a closer examination of Islamist conscientious objection.
ISLAMIST CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTION
Aydemir's conscientious objection inspired other Muslims. Since 2007, dozens have declared conscientious objection on Islamic grounds, while hundreds have become active members of the antimilitarist movement.Footnote 73 As we shall see, Islamist COs come from different backgrounds and propose diverse interpretations of Islam. While the majority of them are men, four women have also joined the cause. And yet despite this diversity, the overlap in their critique of Turkish militarism and its authorizing religious norms enables us to treat Islamists COs as a relatively cohesive group.
An important characteristic of Islamist conscientious objection is its opposition to the Turkish state and military's deployment of the concept of jihad, which COs claim is neither appropriate nor legitimate. For example, while not engaging with the concept per se, Aydemir flatly rejects the possibility that a secular state can be an agent of jihad. Because Turkey is a democratic country, he argues, its laws and governing institutions conform to “the will of the people” rather than to “God's will transmitted through the Qurʾan.”Footnote 74 This suggests that the practices of a secular state, including its warfare, cannot be associated with religious concepts. Muhammed Serdar Delice—a former nationalist who, “disillusioned by the army's claim to a sacred status,” declared his conscientious objection five months into military service—argues that even if one were to ignore this crucial fact, other conditions exist to render the state and military's claims to jihad illegitimate. Delice elaborates: “There are two kinds of jihad. The first is the ‘minor jihad’ (qital), which involves the obligation to fight against oppression and to relieve the suffering of the Islamic community. The second is ‘the greatest jihad’ (jihād al-nafs), which refers to Muslims’ struggle against their passions and weaknesses.”Footnote 75 Implying that pacifism is not legitimate in Islam,Footnote 76 Delice suggests that the only kind of army that can be a legitimate agent of “minor jihad” is one that fights in defense of the umma, the supranational community of faith. As the army of a nation-state, the Turkish army does not defend the interests of the umma, and as such, fighting in it would not fulfill the obligations of jihad.
More poignantly, Delice claims that Turkey's involvement in systematic oppression of, and warfare against, another Muslim community (the Kurds) over the last three decades decidedly violates the requirements of jihad. He cites two Qurʾanic verses to argue that “it is prohibited in Islam to kill other Muslims, or wage jihad against them”:
It is not conceivable that a believer should slay another believer, unless it be by mistake (4:92).
But whoever deliberately slays another believer, his requital shall be Hell, therein to abide; and God will condemn him, and will reject him, and will prepare for him awesome suffering (4:93).
By portraying its military operations as religiously sanctioned, Delice suggests, Turkey incites its citizens to bear arms against “fellow Muslims” and thereby engage in transgressive acts. In his view, this is a “misuse” of Islamic values and a way of “manipulating” the Muslim public. Delice feels that the Turkish state has been highly successful in inciting hostility towards the Kurds and regrets his own upbringing in a nationalist community where he was “taught to see the Kurds as traitors, rather than Muslim brothers.” Through his conscientious objection and activism he hopes to raise awareness among Muslims about the sacrilegious aspects of “oppressing” and “fighting against” another Muslim community.Footnote 77
Criticism of the use of the concept of jihad to legitimize the war is the cornerstone of the resistance of another Islamist CO named Yusuf. Yusuf attended a Gülenist private high school and lived in a dormitory run by the community. His education was based upon the teachings of the movement's founder, Fethullah Gülen, which are collected in fifty-five books known as the Pırlanta Serisi (Diamond Series). While Yusuf appreciated Gülen's emphasis on religious tolerance and global dialogue, he grew uncomfortable with the nationalist undertones of Gülenist teachings. Yusuf began to criticize his educators’ insistence upon the sacredness of the state. His own reading of the Qurʾan, which was discouraged by his teachers on the grounds that “he was not qualified to interpret it,” suggested that nationalist wars are not justifiable in Islam. These disagreements with the Gülenist community led him to search for other networks, and through social media he met a group of anarchist high school students involved in the CO movement. His initiation into this new group eventually resulted in his declaration of conscientious objection as an “anarchist Muslim.”
Yusuf considers the war against the Kurdish guerillas as a “dirty war” that is dressed in a fake Islamic overcoat.Footnote 78 He argues that by attributing religious value to its nationalist operations, the army “anesthetizes” (narkozlamak) people so that “they obey unconditionally.” Rather than comply with this deception, Turkish Muslims should remember the message of the al-fātiḥa sura: “Thee alone do we worship; and unto Thee alone we turn for aid” (1:5). Endorsing this message, Yusuf pledges to disobey “what is imposed on him” either in the name of nationalism or religion.
Muhammed Cihad Saatçioğlu's conscientious objection is similarly defined by defiance against the manipulative use of religious rhetoric. Saatçioğlu is the son of a prominent Muslim activist, Hüda Kaya, who, along with her three daughters, faced the death penalty for advocating the freedom to wear the headscarf during the secularist crackdown that followed the 1997 military intervention. Growing up in this activist family, Saatçioğlu later joined the Devrimci Sosyalist Işçi Partisi (DSIP; Revolutionary Socialist Workers’ Party), and was briefly imprisoned for allegedly supporting terrorism in 2011.Footnote 79 After being acquitted of these charges in 2012, he declared his conscientious objection. Saatçioğlu criticizes the Turkish army's appropriation of Islamic passions, stressing that religious values are desecrated when deployed “to shed the blood of brothers [Kurds].”Footnote 80 Saatçioğlu hopes that his and other Islamist COs’ struggle will inspire more Muslims in Turkey to declare conscientious objection and thus refuse to participate in the “murderous practices” of the nation-state.Footnote 81
In addition to critiquing the nationalist interpretation of jihad, Islamist COs emphasize that other features of the Turkish military also preclude its association with jihad. For Mehmet Lütfü Özdemir, an Islamist CO who is a follower of Eliaçık and participates in the group Antikapitalist Müslümanlar, one of these features is the hierarchical character and permanent structure of the Turkish army. His conscientious objection is informed not only by the Qurʾan and Eliaçık's socialist-leaning interpretation of Islam, but also by non-Islamic sources such as Christian pacifism and theories of nonviolent resistance developed by Tolstoy, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King. Accordingly, he emphasizes Islam's social egalitarianism and the limits it places on the use of violence. Referring to the Prophet's own military practices, he claims that hierarchical and permanent military organizations are not legitimate in Islam: “during the Prophet's time the only allowable military mobilization was voluntary militias.”Footnote 82 Within these militias, participants were treated as “interchangeable equals,” and upon the completion of their task the militias were immediately dissolved in order to prevent the emergence of an established hierarchy. This precedent suggests to Özdemir that the Turkish army, as a standing army, cannot be an agent of holy warfare.
Moreover, COs argue that given Islam's emphasis on voluntarism, the compulsory character of military service also hinders its association with jihad. As Aydemir explains, jihad is “voluntary submission to God's cause.” “Nobody, not even the Prophet himself,” he goes on, “[has] the right to impose on anyone an obligation to fight. At most, he [the Prophet] can encourage me to participate in jihad, but he cannot force this on me, or punish me if I disobey.”Footnote 83 According to Özdemir, coercing someone to participate in military duty would be like treating that person as a slave. Referring to an anecdote narrated in Sahih al-Bukhari, one of the six canonical hadith collections of Sunni Islam, he compares his resolve to disobey the draft to the resolve of the enslaved African Bilal-i Habesi—one of the first seven converts to Islam—who maintained his religion despite being subjected to torture at the hands of Mecca's pagan notables. Özdemir insists that Muslims should follow the example of Bilal-i Habesi by opposing conscription, which denies them individual will and choice.
Özdemir also voices anticapitalist values in his criticism, which reflects the influence of socialism on his interpretation of Islam:
Like all other armies, the Turkish army was established to protect socioeconomic relations of domination. Political ideas such as democracy, citizenship, and security are myths manufactured to embellish this ugly truth. To get rid of militarism, we must first destroy this system of accumulation that encloses our lands and minds. It is so written in the Qurʾan, but Turkish translations do not properly render the message: “God and his Prophet are at war against those who do not give up outstanding gains from usury” (2:279). The Prophet and his companions fought against those who accumulated power and wealth and subordinated others. If this message of Islam were to be properly understood, Muslim youth in this country would burn down banks wherever they see them, not kill and die for this system and its military.Footnote 84
From this perspective, the army's protection of the capitalist economy makes military service a violation, not a fulfillment, of the obligations related to jihad.
All in all, in the view of Islamist COs neither the sanctioning of the Turkish army as the agent of jihad nor the characterization of military service as a holy duty rests on valid Islamic foundations. In their rendering, far from being consistent with jihad, military service in the Turkish army is a violation of its basic principles, especially with respect to the killing of other Muslims in Turkey's nationalist military operations.
This oppositional interpretive logic shapes COs’ positions on the issue of martyrdom as well. Although in Islamic doctrine God promises blessings to those who are martyred on behalf of Islam, COs object to the application of this religious idiom to soldiers who have lost their lives serving in the Turkish military. The majority of these deaths, they argue, occurred in military operations against the Kurdish guerilla movement. As we have seen, Islamist COs consider these operations as involving acts prohibited by Islam and thus illegitimate according to Islamic values. As Delice put it: “The Kurd in the Southeast is a Muslim, and so am I. He shouts at me the battle cry, ‘Allah, Allah,’ and I shout the same. The Qurʾan forbids shedding the blood of another Muslim. How could one talk about martyrdom when committing forbidden (ḥarām) acts?”Footnote 85 In this recasting, fallen soldiers appear as tragic characters forced to commit sacrilegious acts rather than as pious heroes courageously giving up their lives for the nation, as they are portrayed in official and nationalist discourses in Turkey.
Another CO, Inan Mayıs Aru, makes a similar point by referring to the fallen conscripts as “sacrificial victims of national sovereignty.”Footnote 86 Aru declared his conscientious objection in 2008 at the mausoleum of Shaykh Bedreddin, the prominent Sufi theologian who led a revolt against the Ottoman Empire in the 15th century in Istanbul. While not a member of a Sufi sect, Aru is influenced by the antiauthoritarianism and antimaterialism in Bedreddin's teachings, which he weaves together with an anarchist political stance. Emphasizing that martyrdom—shahāda in Arabic—literally means bearing witness to God's greatness, Aru criticizes the political use of martyrdom discourse. As an example of this political usage, he refers to the 1979 Iranian revolution, and in particular to its ideologue Ali Shariati's recodification of martyrdom:
Shariati argued: “In the permanent battle of history—everywhere and every place, all fields are Karbala, all months are Moharram, all days are Ashura.”Footnote 87 Well, yes, this holds a valuable historical message for me as a Muslim, but once you turn this formulation into a culture of sacrifice, you create a very problematic discourse. Historical incidents become myths, and these myths are used to orient people towards nationalistic ends. The notion of martyrdom is today used simply to prolong the continuity of national armies and states. Interpreted this way, it is more compatible with nationalism than religion.Footnote 88
If ascriptions of martyrdom aim to put religious devotion to the service of nationalism—as Aru claims to be the case in Turkey—such ascriptions are unjustified in terms of Islam. Thus, in Aru's view, from an Islamic perspective it is improper to refer to soldiers who have been sacrificed in the Turkish nationalist cause as martyrs. As Aru suggests, their death “bears witness” not to the greatness of God, but rather to the power of the national sovereign.
The nationalist “misuse” of Islamic martyrdom is further problematized by Nebiye Arı, the first Muslim woman to declare her conscientious objection for Islamic reasons.Footnote 89 Growing up in a devout family in the central Anatolian city of Konya—known as the most pious city in Turkey—Arı heard about conscientious objection for the first time after Aydemir's declaration. This prompted her to read about the history of conscientious objection in Turkey and abroad on social media. When she moved to Istanbul after high school to study theology, she began to attend the meetings of CO rights activists and their organized protests. In 2011, she declared her conscientious objection “to seek refuge from nationalism and militarism in God's sovereignty.” For Arı, martyrdom discourse in Turkey is profoundly contradictory because it validates a secular army and sustains “the power of an unjust state.” More poignantly, it helps perpetuate a nationalist gender division according to which men serve the nation on the battlefield while women fulfill the role of patriotic mother and obedient wife, raising the next generation of soldiers and mothers and teaching them the value of martyrdom. “As a Muslim woman,” Arı argues, “I refuse to participate in this role crafted for me, and do not want to sacrifice the men I love, or my children, for the dirty war in the Southeast.”Footnote 90 Problematizing the role martyrdom discourse plays in enlisting the support of pious women, Arı lends an important Islamic voice to feminists’ and women COs’ struggle against militarism in Turkey.
In sum, Islamist COs oppose the nationalist interpretation of the idiom of martyrdom. For them, death in the Turkish army is a tragic consequence of an illegitimate obligation imposed by the nation-state. Far from qualifying as religious martyrdom, they argue, sacrificing oneself for the military violates some of its crucial preconditions. Importantly, while disavowing the possibility of martyrdom in the Turkish army, COs propose a competing venue for it. If martyrdom means bearing witness to God's sovereignty, it is best sought through disobeying authorities that “rival God,” an act of shirk in Islam.Footnote 91 As Aydemir comments, compulsory conscription is a perfect example of the state's rivalry with God's authority “over matters of life and death.” This implies that martyrdom might be achieved by refusing to serve in the army. In this sense at least, Islamist COs consider their own civil disobedience as an act of martyrdom, a way of bearing witness to God's total sovereignty over the individual and her conscience. The message they send to the Muslim public in Turkey is that to achieve martyrdom one should oppose conscription and declare conscientious objection rather than as Özdemir put it, “serve and die for the Turkish army.”Footnote 92
CONCLUSION
This analysis of military education and the national school curriculum in Turkey has shown that the state's attempt to cultivate strong martial passions and nationalist sentiments has involved the systematic appropriation of invoked religious traditions of warfare and martyrdom. This appropriation played an important role in generating widespread appeal and enthusiasm for the institution of conscription in Turkey. While most Turkish men may continue to perceive military service as a religiously sanctioned national duty, there has been some resistance to this religious valuation. In particular, an emergent Islamist conscientious objection movement has begun to challenge the religious mandating of military service. Opposing the nationalist and militarist interpretations of Islam underpinning military discourse, Islamist COs ground their disobedience in competing understandings and practices of Islamic concepts. As such, their resistance conveys the diversity of Islamic worldviews and practices in contemporary Turkey, which undermines the notion of a homogenous Turkish Islam.
This analysis has several further implications for the study of Turkish nationalism and secularism. First, Turkey's use of Islam to cultivate military patriotism challenges modernist accounts of nationalism that portray a stark dichotomy between a premodern tradition and a modern secular present. As we have seen, Islam and nationalism are not necessarily in opposition; in the context of Turkish militarism, the two closely intersect. This intersection is not simply a spontaneous or unintended historical development; rather, it has been consciously cultivated by a secular nation-state to generate a pious and patriotic national defense force and citizenry. Selectively appropriating the prerepublican religious traditions inherited from the Ottoman era, the Turkish government rechanneled them in the service of secular nationalism. As such, Turkish nationalism appears to be a complex ideological formation that includes secular as well as religious imaginings that complement and compete with each other.
Second, the analysis of the Islamic legitimization of military service supports the view that the portrayal of Turkish secularism as an aggressive elimination of religion from the public sphere must be qualified. The military's extensive use of Islamic discourses shows that Turkey has a pragmatic and contingent approach to the role of religion in public life. While the Turkish state allows, even promotes, particular Islamic values and norms that foster national interests and state prerogatives (as in the case of military service), it prohibits others that it views as detrimental to them (such as shariʿa law). Turkish secularism should thus be treated not as a robust elimination of religion from the public sphere, but rather as a sovereign modality of power that persistently regulates religion and religious subjectivities to make them compatible with the interests of the secular nation-state.Footnote 93
Third, the development of an Islamist conscientious objection movement in Turkey, which makes systematic and extensive use of Islam to criticize military values, illustrates the challenges faced by authoritarian projects to regulate religious meaning and valuation. Turkey has cultivated a nationalist interpretation of Islam through a robust program of sociopolitical transformation. While this project seems to have been largely successful—as demonstrated by the prevalence of this nationalist interpretation in statist and popular discourses—Islamist COs’ oppositional interpretations and practices show that religious traditions are too rich and dynamic to be mastered completely by state power. Groups that are marginal to the dominant religious discourses may still generate creative and powerful critiques and opposition. The possibilities for such critiques and opposition are more extensive in democratic states where there is relative religious freedom. The critical discourse and resistance of Turkey's Islamist COs suggest that grand political projects to discipline religious imaginaries and put them to the service of the modern state always remain incomplete.
