An 'arsenic operation' on Turkish in Germany: Should we weep together, or talk about what we failed to do?

Small, time-released drops of arsenic accumulate and can lead a person to death. You can kill a person with magic like this. But you can also kill great languages and cultures this way...

Turkish is shrinking once again in Germany. It is being bullied. WDR plans to end its multilingual COSMO broadcasts, which include Turkish radio programs that have been running under various names since 1964. The Turcology Department at the University of Giessen is facing the threat of closure. Turkish language classes have been fragile for years. There are no daily Turkish newspapers left. Since we cannot call the two reactionary, colorful, Istanbul-based daily papers that sell perhaps a few hundred copies here and there at newsstands 'newspapers,' the situation is dire. We have written and drawn attention to this many times. The Turkish print media was sounding the alarm a quarter of a century ago. It has been over for a long time.

We have arrived at today: Are we still going to continue playing the same victim role and speak from the same place? "We are being treated unfairly!"

Yes, we are... But does this observation improve the situation? Should we all play the victim together again?

First of all, the withdrawal of Turkish from the public sphere in Germany is not new. Radio broadcasts are being discussed today. Turcology is coming to the agenda today. Turkish language classes appear before us once again as the weak link. Turkish newspapers are dying today. But the roots of all this have been right before our eyes for years.

The question is: What have we done during these years?

We especially want to address our progressives: Why, for example, could we not come together to establish our own Turkish radio stations, or form a common will to keep Turkish newspapers facing closure alive?

Why could the energy found for cultural nights, concerts, festivals, and stage events not be mobilized with the same strength for Turkish media? Was the path of least resistance taken by those who know that an unread language will not pose a danger to a regime containing injustices—let's be more explicit—to German right-wing politics and the current imperial political system?

Why are we still so dependent on others' microphones, others' budgets, and others' decisions?

Everyone vents their anger on social media, but why, for instance, does no one sit at the table for a permanent, enlightened, progressive Turkish publishing network? Let's leave reactionary movements aside. They find a way anyway. Don't the overwhelming majority of the more than 2,800 mosques and prayer halls in this country belong to "religious groups of Turkish origin"? Are we misinformed? They are comfortable. We want to talk about the indifference of people who are looking for an enlightened, modern, and egalitarian society, and who, in the meantime, think they can make creative contributions to the cultural world of the majority society with their own language and culture.

Unfortunately, they have a large share in this wreckage. Let us hold ourselves accountable.

WHILE ANOTHER VOICE IS MUZZLED...

The restructuring plan of the German public broadcaster West German Broadcasting (WDR) envisions reshaping COSMO under the 1LIVE Street umbrella aimed at young listeners. Within the scope of this plan, ending multilingual radio broadcasts, including Turkish, is on the agenda.

Of course, this is not just about a program change. The change in question means the withdrawal of one of the voices of Germany's migration history from the radio.

Formerly known as Cologne Radio, and now as COSMO Turkish, it has been one of the channels for the Turkish-origin community in Germany to access information for years. As generations changed, broadcast times were shortened. Formats changed. Now, the complete removal of this voice from the radio is being discussed.

That is the situation.

While reporters working at the WDR Turkish service emphasize that native language broadcasts are indispensable in terms of access to information, social participation, cultural diversity, and democratic representation, the Federation of Turkish Teachers' Associations in Germany (ATÖF) also evaluates this decision as a retreat from the pluralistic responsibility of public broadcasting.

The reactions are justified. Yet, something is missing.

Unfortunately, we return to the same place at every moment of crisis. We appeal to institutions. We call on editorial boards. We try to put pressure on politics. Of course, this should be done. And then? Can we look at our own front at the same time?

If a radio station is closing by state hand, why can't we establish a new one? If broadcasts are being silenced, why can't we start a stronger one?

If a space is shrinking, why can't we think of opening a new space?

We are addressing the progressives. Because reactionism—that is, ethnicism, religious extremism, etc.—is content with the status quo. Such decisions make it easier for them to close themselves off, and they create new profitable business areas for themselves from there. We know this. The problem is with our progressives.

WHAT REMAINS IF TURCOLOGY CLOSES?

The threat of closure of the Turcology Department at the University of Giessen also appears as part of the same big picture.

Federal Member of Parliament Ayşe Asar describes this development as a great disrespect to the identity, culture, and educational rights of more than 160,000 people of Turkish origin living in Hesse. She reminds us that Turkish is one of the most spoken languages in homes in Hesse after German. She emphasizes that the closure of the Turcology Department will also weaken the academic foundation that will train future Turkish teachers.

We can argue that a population of Turkish origin far exceeding this figure lives in Hesse. That is one thing. But there is a very important warning here.

Ultimately, Turcology is not a "decorative field." It is the academic memory of the Turkish language, the foundation for teacher training, and one of the scientific pillars of cultural continuity.

Moreover, the fact that the Turcology Department of Frankfurt University closed between 2005 and 2007 is still in memory. It is no coincidence that a similar danger is being discussed for Giessen now. Budgetary pressure, lack of political will, and the failure to see the strategic importance of the Turkish language meet on the same line.

But we are forced to ask the same question on this issue as well... As these areas weaken one by one, how strong a reaction were we able to produce? We didn't even try.

How many institutions acted together? How many associations informed young people about this? How many media outlets carried the issue to the front page?

How many business people, how many academics, how many journalists, how many cultural figures established a common platform for Turcology?

The essence of the matter is that we do not know how to come together. Yet, isn't the "cooperative method" (imece) one of the most valuable parts of our culture? We are talking about a progressive method.

Signature campaigns are important, of course. But a society's language issue is too urgent and sacred to be left to signature campaigns.

THE SILENT COLLAPSE OF TURKISH MEDIA

The most painful point starts here.

Turkish media in Germany has been melting away for a long time. Nothing remains of the former power of Turkish national newspapers in Europe. They are effectively non-existent. There are no sales at newsstands that can be taken seriously. Local Turkish newspapers, despite years of effort, are under heavy economic pressure. They exist, but they have no weight.

This is very clear, but it is not wanted to be seen: The Turkish-origin reader in Europe does not need agendas packaged from Turkey, but Europe-centered journalism that touches their life here.

Today, this need has grown even more.

The Turkish reader in Germany already learns what is happening in Turkey instantly. The real void is here. Not being able to follow what is happening in the country they live in in their own language, locally, accurately, critically, and regularly.

This void has not been filled for years. Or rather, it has not been taken seriously enough.

As Turkish newspapers weakened, readers withdrew. As readers withdrew, newspapers weakened further. As newspapers weakened, the Turkish-origin community in Europe lost the opportunity to follow its own agenda in its own language.

It would not be correct to perceive the collapse of Turkish newspapers only as a media crisis. Because the situation we are facing is a tragedy of a society losing its own story.

CULTURE EXISTS, MEDIA DOES NOT

The most striking contradiction is elsewhere.

The Turkish and Turkish-origin cultural scene in Germany is extremely active. Concerts, theaters, film festivals, exhibitions, literary meetings, cultural days, commemoration programs, stage events, theater days, and stand-up weeks attract great interest in many cities.

So, it turns out there is energy in the society, people can come together, halls can be filled, organizations can be made, and sponsors can be found on top of it.

Then why can't the same energy be used for Turkish media? Why is the table set for a festival not set for a Turkish media fund?

Let's ask then, since the opportunity has arisen: Cultural events need the press, but why does no one take enough responsibility for that press to survive?

Unfortunately, we cannot move forward by bypassing these questions.

If there is no Turkish press, those concerts, those theaters, those festivals, and all cultural and artistic productions carried out in Turkish cannot be recorded socially, and the transfer to future generations will be disrupted. The photo taken today disappears on social media tomorrow. If it is not reported, an archive is not formed. If an archive is not formed, history cannot be written either.

The cultural scene and Turkish media cannot be thought of separately, nor should they be.

One sets the stage. The other preserves the social record and ensures cultural continuity.

BEING AT THE MERCY OF OTHERS...

Defending Turkish is not the monopoly of reactionaries and nationalists. It is necessary to write this sentence again from here today. Because the Turkish issue is often pushed to the wrong place. It is either confined to nostalgia, left to identity rhetoric—to ethnic-religious reactionism by name—or belittled with the comfort of "children are already living in German anyway."

However, the language issue has a much harsher reality than this. Language loss is a loss of representation. It leads to a weakening of the capacity to seek rights. It creates an inferiority complex of terrible proportions.

When Turkish weakens, it is not just poetry, folk songs, or family conversations that weaken. The power to understand legal texts, access to social rights, intergenerational transfer, and the possibility of the society conducting its own internal debate in its own language also weaken.

Let's be clear on this point: The struggle for Turkish media is not a romantic longing for the past. It is a very concrete, very political, very social issue of today.

Let's be more explicit: If a society cannot keep its own media alive, the end of the time allocated to it by others comes just like this; it remains at the mercy of the frequency, the budget, and the staff.

This is what is happening today.

New blows are coming to Turkish in Germany. We have to see this. But every criticism made without looking in the mirror remains incomplete. No one will build a permanent future for Turkish in our place.

Not Germany. Not Turkey.

Nor a few days of anger rising on social media.

Saying "now the task has fallen to us" does not reflect the truth either.

Because that task has been standing before us and waiting for us for a long time.

The future of Turkish is no longer just in the decisions made by others.

It also lies in the decisions we have not made.

IŞIN ERTÜRK – FRANKFURT