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| Gathering of Azerbaijani Turk students from Tehran universities on the occasion of International Mother Language Day in February 2007, calling for education in the mother tongue, Turkish, in Iran. |
Ten or twelve years ago, when I was an avid user of Yahoo Messenger and chat rooms, it often happened that when a stranger on the other end of Messenger learned the city where I lived, they would ask with a curious, condescending tone: “Turki?!” I would reply firmly: “No, I am Azeri. Turks trace their roots back to the bloodthirsty tribes of Mongolia, and I am not a Turk.” I suppose all of them were satisfied with my straightforward answer, and I was even more satisfied with their satisfaction. Back then, this kind of racial inquisition was settled within two lines—when, as I thought, I managed to push away their undeserved label.
It was a peculiar feeling when, years later, I found myself in the damp detention centers of Tabriz, being interrogated as a Turk nationalist. This time, there was no racial inquisition and no Messenger-style condescension; humiliation was a method of interrogation, not a means of denial. In that place, denial had no place—and perhaps that is why, as “Haj Sadegh,” the cell guard, put it: once a Turk nationalist sets foot in there, he will remain a customer of the detention center for years to come. Yes, the very identity that had long been denied, and against which centralists spend billions of tomans to discredit—fabricating histories and writing books—suddenly becomes official in the interrogation room. There, our true identity is welcomed with open arms. With one difference: in their eyes, although we are Turks, we are traitors to the ruling values, anti-establishment, and separatists!
Pause a little on this question: “Existing evidence and indications, such as your handwritten notes, books, etc., prove that you are a separatist. What is your explanation?”
Naturally, in interrogation rooms, most people—fearing the consequences of such an accusation—will deny it. But it seems to me (at least my personal experience has proven this) that the main reason this charge is raised is not to prove a crime, but to apply psychological pressure on the accused. If the accused sees separatism as a crime of the highest order, then the mere mention of the charge will render them vulnerable. Stranded and distressed, they will desperately try to acquit themselves, striving to present their actions as non-separatist. And those very explanations are exactly what the interrogator wants to extract.
Although the final part of Article Nine of the Constitution states that “…no authority has the right, under the pretext of safeguarding the independence and territorial integrity of the country, to deprive individuals of legitimate freedoms, even by enacting laws and regulations,” it seems one cannot reassure an audience facing such accusations merely by citing those two lines of the Constitution or one’s personal experiences. The beginning of that same article practically contradicts its end. Beyond that, perhaps it is natural that people in interrogation rooms opt for denial. But now imagine this same accusation, not in an interrogation room, but appearing in a Facebook comment thread. We have seen such comments many times, and responses to them that resemble the answers one would give under interrogation.
I absolutely cannot accept the claim that separatism does not exist on Facebook. But is the notion of secession, separation, or independence really so shameful that almost everyone who is labeled as such feels compelled to deny it in a panic? Separatism is not an immoral proposition; it is an idea for beginning a different political life. And when someone advocates it in a civil and democratic manner, what is the point of denial—especially not in an interrogation room, but in a virtual space? One may not be a separatist, but at least they can acknowledge it in a sentence. Yet denial of separatism—especially when combined with distancing oneself from separatists—is a disaster, akin to the desperate explanations of a broken-down defendant under interrogation. It is of the same nature as those Messenger chats that portrayed Turks as bloodthirsty and inferior. Such panicked denials serve precisely the purpose of those who deny our rights.
Separatism pursued through democratic and civil methods is neither an immoral stance, nor evidence of stupidity and ignorance, nor necessarily a mark of rationality and honor. It is simply an idea—an option that, in the midst of enduring humiliation, some embrace and others do not.
This labeling is the method of those who deny us, and given the sensitivity of the public and the stigma surrounding the charge, it becomes operational. Once, calling oneself a Turk brought humiliation. Today, it seems, calling someone a separatist is a way to deny them their rights. And what a strange desensitization time brings!
Postscript:
The term “separatism” is usually used by opponents, and in this text, the position of the opponents is what has been quoted—not necessarily the author’s own view. Proponents of the idea generally prefer the term “independence-seeking,” while most neutral parties prefer “secession.”