On the sixth anniversary of his assassination and more significantly,
on the sixth anniversary of the Turkish state’s inability or
unwillingness to find his real killers, Hrant Dink was remembered by
tens of thousands of people in many countries as well as in Turkey,
including Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir, Diyarbakir, Malatya, and Bodrum.
Throughout the world, Turkish and Armenian speakers repeated his vision
and message of direct dialogue between Turks and Armenians. Year by
year, instead of gradually diminishing in numbers toward oblivion, as is
the case for other assassinated journalists in Turkey, there is a
snowballing increase in the number and intensity of people attending the
Hrant Dink commemorations, protesting and demanding justice, as well as
adopting Hrant’s message with more determination. It is not the tiny
Armenian community in Turkey, but Turks (and Kurds) from all walks of
life who have embraced Hrant as a tragic hero. The momentum is building
to declare Hrant a martyr—the first shared martyr by the historically
opposing nations of Armenians and Turks.
After being systematically brainwashed by
the state with ever-changing official versions of history, people in
Turkey have now finally started to learn the true historic facts,
reasons, and consequences of 1915, not just the Turkish version versus
Armenian version.
But what exactly was Hrant’s message? He would define Armenians and
Turks as two sick people, clinical cases—Armenians suffering from trauma
(obsessed with 1915) and Turks suffering from paranoia (fear of
consequences of acknowledging 1915). He would advocate Armenians and
Turks to be each other’s doctors, with dialogue as the only
prescription. And he would clap his large hands vigorously, exclaiming,
“There is no other medicine, no other doctor, no, no, no.” He knew
dialogue would be useless if one couldn’t discuss the painful year of
1915, but only pleasant subjects such as Turks’ and Armenians’ shared
values, shared culture, shared foods like dolma and kebab. He knew that
dialogue would also be useless if one was unable to really “listen and
hear,” in addition to talk. And most importantly, he knew that dialogue
would be useless if one didn’t know the real historical facts of 1915.
After being systematically brainwashed by the state with ever-changing
official versions of history, people in Turkey have now finally started
to learn the true historic facts, reasons, and consequences of 1915, not
just the Turkish version versus Armenian version. So, if and when there
is willingness to talk and listen, both sides can and should engage in
direct dialogue, without the need to convince third parties to pressure
the other side.
Hrant had studied zoology, and he would explain that if you remove
any living organism from its natural environment, you would cause its
extinction. He would then say, “If you remove an entire people from its
land where it has lived continuously for 3,000 years, even if you
transport them with great care in ‘golden airplanes,’ this would still
be similar to taking an axe to the roots of an ancient tree.” He didn’t
need to explain 1915 with long words; in a corner of the Agos newspaper,
every week, he would place some facts about a village or town in
Anatolia—could be in west, east, north, south, or central
Anatolia—giving the Armenian and total population numbers, the names and
numbers of churches and schools there, before 1915. He would have
photos of these active Armenian churches and schools in that village or
town before 1915, and photos of these non-existent churches or schools
today, totaling more than 4,000 buildings. That would be enough for
anyone to understand the reality of 1915.
But he wouldn’t only talk about the Armenians gone or dead in 1915.
He was much more interested in talking about the Armenians who remained,
who stayed in Anatolia, who stayed and survived, but no longer as
Armenians. These were the Armenians who survived by converting to Islam,
by assuming Turkish, Kurdish, or Alawi identities. These were the
Armenian girls and boys captured or sold, kept hidden, protected or
married to Turks and Kurds. And entire Armenian villages that converted
to Islam, or stayed protected by friendly Kurdish and Alawi leaders.
Hrant was obsessed with this subject. What happened to these people? Did
they secretly keep their Armenian identity? Did they pass it on to the
next generations? Where are they now? How many are there? If there are
“hidden Armenians,” what would be the trigger for them to “come out of
hiding”?
Genocide is not a single event but a continuous process. It is not
only denial of a genocide that continues it, but also assimilation and
conversion that continue it. Scholars have recently started defining
genocide not only as the destruction of an oppressed nation, but also
the construction of the oppressor nation—using assimilation and
conversion processes. For Armenians, these processes continued on all
fronts.
Hrant didn’t or couldn’t write much about this sensitive subject, but
he was preoccupied by it, gathering stories, anecdotal evidence, always
encouraging others to find out more. Clearly, this was not a subject
that could be researched openly and scientifically, but whenever a new
revelation came out about hidden Armenians in Anatolia, he would be
greatly excited. His lawyer Fethiye Cetin’s book
My Grandmother
was only an example of the fate of the hidden Armenians. In an interview
with London filmmaker Nouritsa Matossian for the documentary “Hrant
Dink: A Heart Of Two Nations,” Matossian asked him, “Do you see Armenian
faces in Anatolia?” Hrant: “Yes, often.” Nouritsa: “Apparitions
[meaning, ghosts]?” Hrant: “Apparitions
and real ones.” One could
tell that Hrant, the emotional Hrant with the biggest heart, was like a
child who had a secret he could hardly keep.
The answer to the question that kept him wondering—What would be the
trigger for the hidden Armenians to come out?—came four years too late
for Hrant to witness, unfortunately. The trigger was the reconstruction
of the Diyarbakir Surp Giragos Church in 2011. Thousands of Anatolians,
young and old, Turkish and Kurdish, in appearance and identity, returned
to their Armenian roots with the reopening of this church. Some got
baptized in the church, some changed their Turkish names to the Armenian
original, some changed their identity to Armenian but remained Muslim
(a new phenomenon of Muslim-Armenians), some started learning the
Armenian language. Hrant would have danced with joy to see an
11-year-old Kurdish girl not only learning Armenian but also singing
Armenian songs at the first Armenian concert in the Diyarbakir Surp
Giragos Church in 2012. Hrant would have danced on the table after
seeing a thousand people from Adiyaman, Amasya, Arapkir, Dersim,
Diyarbakir, Elazig, Harput, Hemshin, Istanbul, Kastamonu, Kayseri,
Malatya, Musadagh, Sason, Sinop, Sivas, Tokat, Van, and Yozgat organize
activities together and celebrate the Surp Hagop Day in December 2012,
singing Armenian songs, even though no one knew how to speak Armenian.
Hrant was an Anatolian Armenian and wished to have the same
democratic rights as all other citizens of the state, without being
excluded, without being discriminated against, without being pressured
to lose his identity. Armenians wished to have exactly the same things
100 years ago—no more, no less. The state felt threatened, and when fear
got combined with opportunity it wiped out the Armenian identity in
Anatolia to build a Turkish identity that excluded all others, including
Greeks, Assyrians, and Kurds. The enormous transfer of wealth and
assets from Armenians to Turks has added to the fear and paranoia of the
state in facing its past. A new Turkish identity, which does not fear
diversity or minority identities, needs to be created in Turkey in order
to face both the past and the future. The state has finally started
this process with the Kurds, but not the Armenians. The Kurds have
started this process with the Armenians, openly acknowledging their role
in 1915, and starting to make amends. It is hoped that Turks will see
the light and follow them.
