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Media in New Turkey
Bilge Yesil
Acknowledgments ix
Introduction 1
Notes 147
Bibliography 171
Index 209
Writing this book has presented certain challenges. Given the ex-
tremely fast-paced nature of political developments in Turkey, I found myself
constantly updating the manuscript and making every effort to include the
latest available information. I also walked a fine line between the need to
explain deep-rooted issues in their full complexity and not burden the read-
ers with too much detail. Getting access to media professionals for informal
interviews has proved to be difficult given the climate of fear and the highly
politicized nature of the media industry. On a personal level, writing this
book has been especially disheartening, as I have seen the undermining of the
rule of law, the erosion of individual liberties, the imprisonment of journal-
ists, the proliferation of government propaganda, and the utter destruction
of lives (physical and symbolic) on a daily basis. Despite all these challenges,
I have been fortunate to have a wonderful community of colleagues, friends,
and family who saw me through the completion of this book. But the errors
are mine alone.
This book originated as a Mellon Seminar project in 2011–2012 at the
Center for Humanities, Graduate Center City University of New York. I
would like to express my gratitude to seminar leaders Marcela Echeverri
and Premilla Nadasen and to participants Alessandro Angelini, Moustafa
Bayoumi, Christina Christoforatou, Shelly Eversley, Kelly Josephs, Rowena
Kennedy-Epstein, Michael Mandiberg, Karen Miller, John Paul Narkunas,
and Edward Sammons for providing a nourishing intellectual environment
and giving useful feedback at a very early stage.
The Mellon Seminar project started to turn into a book in 2013 thanks to
the backing and encouragement of Cynthia Chris and Paula Chakravartty.
x Acknowledgments
Acknowledgments xi
In April 2015, CNN’s foreign affairs show Fareed Zakaria GPS aired
a segment on the increasing authoritarianism of Turkey’s ruling Adalet ve
Kalkinma Partisi (Justice and Development Party), or AKP. Citing the AKP’s
demonization of its opponents, expansion of police powers, and censor-
ship of the Internet, Fareed Zakaria, the show’s host, lamented Turkey’s “sad
metamorphosis from a promising role model for the entire Middle East [in]
to a textbook example of illiberal democracy.”1 Like most of his colleagues
in Western media, Zakaria was suggesting that this authoritarian turn was a
recent development and could largely be blamed on the AKP.2 In the summer
of 2013, Western media and policy circles seemed surprised when the AKP
revealed its intolerance of political dissent, free expression, and public protest
as it tried to violently repress the antigovernment Gezi Park protests. Wasn’t
the AKP the great democratizing agent that had initiated legal reforms and
demilitarized Turkish politics in the first decade of the twenty-first century?
In December 2013, the Western narrative was once again startled when a
massive corruption scandal erupted, and the AKP responded by tightening
its grip over the judiciary and banning Twitter and YouTube in an effort to
curb circulation of damaging reports and evidence. What had happened to
the Turkish model—that successful “model” country that blended Islam,
democracy, and a market economy?
Back in 2010–2011, Western media was heaping Turkey with praise, calling
it “Eurasia’s rising tiger” and an “economic miracle.”3 Such accolades were
not unwarranted; with significant economic growth and a renewed sense of
self-confidence, Turkey had emerged as a key player on the world stage.4 In
the wake of the Arab uprisings, the accolades only increased. Western policy
2 Introduction
Introduction 3
4 Introduction
Introduction 5
6 Introduction
Information compiled from Sozeri and corporate websites. See Sozeri, “Turkiye’de Medya Sahipligi ve Getirileri.”
*Koza Ipek’s newspapers and TV channels were seized by the government and their management cadres were replaced by government trustees in
October 2015. See Ant, “Turkish Opposition Papers.”
5/13/16 12:10 PM
Aside from the issues of concentration and conglomeration, Turkey’s me-
dia system is highly clientelistic and politicized. The aforementioned media
companies are part of huge nonmedia enterprises and are operated as “bar-
gaining tools” with the government for contracts, subsidies, and privatiza-
tion deals.24 Dogan Media is a unit of Dogan Group that owns companies
in finance, energy, trade, and tourism, while Ciner, Demiroren, Dogus, and
Koza-Ipek are each huge conglomerates that have commercial interests in
textile, energy, construction, finance, telecommunications, mining, transpor-
tation, or tourism. Needless to say, their dependence on government licenses
to conduct business in these sectors makes them extremely vulnerable to
financial pressures from the government and aggravates the problem of in-
strumentalization. Since television channels and newspapers owned by these
conglomerates are primarily operated as political tools, it is not uncommon to
see their editorial lines shift with changing political economic circumstances.
Therefore a pro-government media outlet becoming the government’s most
vocal critic literally overnight is not an oddity in Turkey, as in the case of
Zaman newspaper when it parted ways with the AKP in December 2013 (see
chapter 6).
Obviously, problems of clientelism, partisanship, and instrumentalization
are not unique to Turkey. However, their effects are amplified by Turkey’s
restrictive legal framework. The highly politicized judiciary, through broad
interpretations of the Press Law, the Internet Law, and the Broadcasting Law,
as well as application of the Penal Code and Anti-Terror Law provisions,
criminalizes media practitioners, bans and confiscates publications, shuts
down websites, and prosecutes writers, publishers, and artists. Among the
charges brought against media and cultural producers (as well as individu-
als who express their opinions on social media) are for spreading Kurdish
propaganda, harming Turkey’s national security and territorial integrity,
inciting hatred and enmity among the Turkish public, insulting state institu-
tions, undermining the moral values of Turkish society, and insulting Islam
and the Prophet Muhammad.25
Another constraining force on media practitioners in Turkey has been
the military and its national security paradigm. As I discuss in upcoming
chapters, the sway of the military cannot simply be understood as a product
of direct coercion on editors, publishers, and journalists but must rather be
explored in relation to the persistence of a statist, nationalist ideology in the
public sphere; the sociocultural linkages between media professionals and
military officers based on shared aspirations of a secular, modern, Western-
ized nation-state; and media proprietors’ long-standing political economic
alliances with the military-bureaucratic establishment. An obvious mani-
8 Introduction
Introduction 9
10 Introduction
Introduction 11
12 Introduction
Introduction 13
14 Introduction
The Outline
The first half of the book focuses on the 1980s and 1990s, a turbulent period
whereby the Kemalist ideology was faced with several challenges, including
the state’s attempt to maintain its hegemony over society, politics, and culture
as Turkey opened up to world markets and foreign culture, and capital began
to flow into the country. Chapter 1, entitled “Politics and Culture in Turkey,”
sets the scene with an examination of Turkey’s political history, specifically
the country’s main pillars of statism, nationalism, and secularism, which
emerged in unique forms in the 1920s. It also gives an overview of the role
of the state in the economy and the development of politically supported
private capital. This chapter illustrates how a statist, nationalist, and secu-
larist ethos has suffused the Turkish public sphere and media culture, and
provides the background for the analysis of Turkey’s contemporary media
system in later chapters.
Chapter 2, entitled “The Political Economic Transformation of Media,”
places its focus on the nexus of the economic and the political and explores
the post-1980 transformation of the media system under converging develop-
ments such as the military coup, the neoliberal restructuring of the economy,
the flow of transnational capital and culture into the country, the increasing
investment in telecommunications, and the commercialization of broadcast-
ing. In doing so, this chapter also maps the connections between Turkish and
other national contexts with regard to marketization and democratization.
Chapter 3, entitled “Containing Kurdish Nationalism and Political Islam in
the 1990s,” analyzes the alliance between the media and the military-led state
with respect to the twin threats of Kurdish nationalism and political Islam.
This chapter focuses on the state suppression of Kurdish and Islamist actors
in the 1990s and the role of mainstream media in sustaining the nationalist,
secularist ethos. In analyzing the media-military alliance, this chapter also
points to connections between Turkey, Egypt, and Pakistan with respect to
the hegemony of military prerogatives in politics and media.
The second half of the book focuses on 2000–2015, again a period of ma-
jor transformation whereby political Islam (through the electoral success of
the AKP) firmly established itself in the public sphere and military tutelage
waned. These chapters survey the changes and continuities in Turkey’s politi-
cal economic structures and media landscape under the thirteen-year-old
AKP regime.
Introduction 15
16 Introduction
18 chapter 1
Secularism, Westernization,
and the Subordination of Religion
To the new republic, challenges came not only from the multiethnic legacy
of the Ottoman Empire but also from the role of Islam in the public sphere.12
The Kemalist founders imposed a top-down secularization and Westerniza-
tion project with the specific aim of “transform[ing] the religious and mys-
tical traditions of the rural and uneducated masses,” and of “engineer[ing]
the popular consciousness so as to distance it from religion.” 13 The series
of reforms between the 1920s and 1930s included the adoption of Western
legal, social, and cultural institutions and practices—which, in effect, meant
the banning of Islamic garb and the adoption of Western codes of dress; the
banning of Ottoman-Arabic script and the adoption of the Latin alphabet;
and the abandoning of the provisions of Islamic law and the writing of a
new legal code.14
Perhaps the most important of the modernizing reforms was the sub-
ordination of religion in the public sphere and the institutionalization of
secularism. Acts demonstrating this subordination included the closing of
all religious schools; the outlawing of mystic orders, Islamic brotherhoods,
20 chapter 1
22 chapter 1
Economic Restructuring
The historic economic reforms of January 24, 1980, were introduced in re-
sponse to the crumbling of the development-based, protectionist economic
model in the late 1970s.37 Like many other developing countries, Turkey had
been suffering from massive debt accumulation that was worsened by the
worldwide economic recession, the reorganization of the global economy
around a global manufacturing system, and rising oil prices. To overcome the
economic crisis, Turkey felt it had no choice but to enter into “negotiations
with creditors and a long series of rescheduling agreements” with the IMF
and the World Bank.38 This stabilization program prioritized free trade and
exports, mandated the privatization of state-owned enterprises, and imposed
restrictions on collective bargaining and unionization––thus signaling a swift
transition to a market-based economic model.39 In return, Turkey would be
able to reschedule its debts with the IMF and receive loans from the World
Bank.40 Despite these dramatic measures, however, the country’s woes still
eluded any sort of quick resolution, given the resistance from trade union
federations and ensuing factory occupations, strikes, and violent clashes with
the army and the police.
Military Coup
The combination of an economic crisis amid ongoing political turmoil, street
violence between left and right, and the politicization of law enforcement all
helped to create a crisis of legitimacy and paved the way for the military coup
of September 12, 1980.41 To set the country on “the right path,” the generals,
who had always been quick to assume the role of guardian of the state, took
over the government entirely. They had not only been alarmed by the inter-
nal havoc but were also concerned by various external developments, such
as Iran’s 1979 Islamic revolution and the rise of the Soviet-backed govern-
24 chapter 1
Pro-Market Transformation
The political economic changes that had been initiated, shaped, and under-
taken by the military leadership continued after the transition to civilian
government in 1983. The winner of the election was the right-of-center Ana-
vatan Partisi (ANAP—Motherland Party), headed by Turgut Ozal, the former
minister of the economy under the military regime.49 A quasi-counterpart
to Reagan and Thatcher, and also a pragmatist and unabashed liberal, Ozal
emphasized “economic liberalism, entrepreneurial spirit and individual
achievement” and committed the country to free market ideology.50 Ozal
was keen to open Turkey’s markets without feeling compelled to consult the
Parliament or go through cumbersome bureaucratic-legal procedures. He
introduced organizational changes in the government structure and sur-
rounded himself with high-level technocrats and economic advisers—known
as “Ozal’s princes”—who answered directly to him.51 His office increased its
power in economic decision making not only through specialized agencies
but also by way of creating “extra-budgetary funds.” Thanks to these funds,
the prime minister could now distribute the state largesse as he wished and
create “wealth for particular individuals” and conversely “business difficulties
for out-of-favor individuals.”52
As per the program of the economic reform package sanctioned by the IMF
and the World Bank, the ANAP government scrapped protectionist measures,
reduced tariffs, liberalized capital flows, and introduced export incentives
that helped large enterprises enter global markets. This created a new class of
provincial businessmen in the conservative heartland of Anatolia. Together
with Istanbul-based capital, these provincial entrepreneurs, referred to as
“Anatolian tigers,” expanded the Turkish economy and became active players
in Middle Eastern, Russian, and Eastern European markets by the 1990s.53
Despite all its seemingly positive import, however, economic restructuring
had significant ramifications on Turkish society. While the incorporation of
Turkish entrepreneurs into global networks created wealth for the capital-
ist class (old and new), it also led to a sharp reduction in real wages and in
agricultural incomes, eliminating social welfare programs. Consequently,
unemployment rates started to rise, the number of the poor began to increase,
and large income gaps started to materialize. With the advent of consumer
society and the prominence of capital over labor, a new set of “rising values”
began to emerge, with emphases on capitalist growth, high profits, immediate
26 chapter 1
28 chapter 1
Conclusion
The Kemalist state ideology, which took radical steps to create a Western-
ized, secular nation-state by suppressing Kurdish ethnic identity and Islamic
expression, came under question in the post-1980 era as market forces and
integration with global capitalism converged with increasing demands for
political liberalism and the growth of more individualist, competitive ideolo-
gies in the cultural realm.71 The questioning of strict limits placed on cultural
and political expression and the entry into the public sphere of Islamic and
Kurdish political actors as well as feminist, LGBT, and human rights activists,
were also accelerated by the opening of new discursive spaces prompted by
increasing technological investment in telecommunications and emergence
of commercial broadcasting.72 Political actors and those elements of popular
culture that had been previously ignored, excluded, or even banned by the
state were now able to find new avenues of expression.73 But would the pro-
liferation of new commercial outlets create a pluralistic and diverse media
field? The following chapter explores these shifts, analyzes the emergence of
commercial broadcasting as well as the overall trends toward conglomera-
tion and consolidation in the media field, and discusses the tenuous links
between media commercialization and democratization in both Turkish
and global contexts.
30 chapter 1
32 chapter 2
Transformation of Media 33
34 chapter 2
The military regime also amended the existing Press Law in alignment
with the Constitution. For example, whereas the Constitution declared the
language of the state to be Turkish and prohibited the use of any other lan-
guage (read: Kurdish) in the expression and dissemination of thought, the new
Press Law criminalized publications in languages prohibited by law. While
the Constitution emphasized the “indivisible integrity of the state,” the Press
Law expanded the powers of the Council of Ministers to “prohibit the entry
and distribution of [foreign] publications if they [were] found to undermine
the indivisible integrity of the state with its territory and nation, the Republic,
public order, public safety, public interest, morals and public health.”
Transformation of Media 35
Not only news coverage declined, but the lines between comment and news
also blurred as result of an ever increasing number of columnists, who did not
work the beats but penned responses to current affairs or wrote about their
own political opinions, food, wine, vacations, and relationships. By 1995, the
number of columnists reached 547 in twenty-six national papers, putting the
space occupied by commentary around 17 percent.20 The fact that, by 1995,
a total of 70 percent of newspapers and 87 percent of magazines was owned
by two capital groups, Dogan and Sabah, made opinion-based, personalized
and sensationalistic reporting the norm, not the exception. Tabloid content
in newspapers and on television became prevalent; lines between advertising
and news became blurred; op-ed columns constructed individualism and
conspicuous consumption as the “new or rising values” of the decade.21
Moreover, media partisanship became the dominant mode of operation
because of journalists’ personal connections with a range of power holders
(high-level bureaucrats, military officials, and politicians) similar to the case
of developing democracies in Asia, Latin America, the Middle East, and
Southern Europe in the mid- to late twentieth century.22 Like other similarly
placed national contexts with a history of military rule or interference and
patrimonial state institutions such as Pakistan, Egypt, Argentina, Columbia,
Spain, Portugal, and Greece, Turkey’s media system came to be marked with
the salience of media enterprises as political actors. As Kaya and Cakmur
note, Turkish media owners took advantage of the weak coalition govern-
ments and economic instability of the 1990s and acted as kingmakers and
36 chapter 2
Last but not least, the rise of conglomerates also eliminated the relatively
pluralistic distribution structure of the 1960s and 1970s. In the 1980s, distribu-
tion was undertaken by Hur Dagitim (a consortium of Hurriyet and Turkiye
newspapers and their sister periodicals) and Gameda (a consortium of Mil-
liyet, Cumhuriyet, Sabah, Gunaydin, Tercuman newspapers and their sister
periodicals). In 1996, BBD and Yaysat, the subsidiaries of the two leading
media conglomerates, Dogan and Sabah, merged and thus came to dominate
the distribution networks, stifling small ventures and heightening the entry
barriers even further.26
Although the press field seemed to be expanding with new publications,
it was indeed highly concentrated, with slim prospects for small and inde-
pendent ventures to survive. For those publications that lacked significant
capital flows, the only viable economic revenue came (and still does) from
the official announcements and notices placed by the Directorate General of
Press Announcements (BIK—Basin Ilan Kurumu). There are certain criteria
that a newspaper must meet to be eligible for these official announcements.
For example, it must be a daily publication with a minimum of eight pages;
must have a staff of at least seven, and a circulation of five thousand. Under
these criteria, unfortunately, the majority of the BIK announcements are al-
located to national high-circulation newspapers threatening the livelihood
of small and independent actors.27
Transformation of Media 37
38 chapter 2
Commercialization of Broadcasting
Broadcasting in Turkey, similar to its counterparts in Europe, Latin America,
the Middle East, and Asia, was developed as a public service to ensure qual-
ity programming and was therefore primarily funded by state subsidies and
license fees.38 On the other hand, as in developing countries, it was inter-
twined with the project of nation-building and state formation and thus
primarily served the interests of the state. Therefore, it is more apt to use
the term “state-run” as opposed to “public broadcaster” because the latter
implies the delegation of powers “to oversee the broadcaster to a relatively
neutral regulatory body or to the parliament itself,” which was never the
case in Turkey.39 Due to its patrimonial character, the Turkish state never
refrained from meddling in radio and television broadcasts. In this sense, the
Turkish experience is similar to those of developing countries, especially in
the Middle East and Southeast Asia, which launched broadcasting systems
in the post-independence years of the 1950s and 1960s to serve as symbol of
independence and tool of state formation and thus centralized them under
governmental bodies.40 The TRT (Turkish Radio and Television Corpora-
tion) formulated its programming policies based on the priorities of the
state, which meant that programs aimed to disseminate the official state
ideology, shape national and cultural identity, and give audiences “what was
good and right for them.”41 In legal terms, radio and television broadcast-
ing were placed under the control of the state. According to Article 133 of
the Constitution (1982) and the Radio and Television Law (1983), the TRT,
Transformation of Media 39
40 chapter 2
While Star 1 attracted audiences with its relatively liberal programing (de-
tailed discussion to follow), its operation created a legal conundrum. It had
labeled itself as a foreign enterprise not subject to Turkish law, but its target
audience and advertising source were clearly located in the Turkish market.
The High Council of Radio and Television sued Star 1 for violating Article 133
of the Constitution, but the court ruled in favor of the channel, stating that
it was a satellite broadcaster, just like CNN and BBC, and thus not subject to
Turkish law. The legitimation of Star 1’s fait accompli was complete thanks
to the absence of a regulatory framework concerning satellite broadcast-
Transformation of Media 41
42 chapter 2
Transformation of Media 43
44 chapter 2
Transformation of Media 45
46 chapter 2
Transformation of Media 47
Conclusion
The post-1980 transformation of the media system in Turkey raises a number
of issues that resonate across much of the world. First, the perceived link
between economic liberalization and the creation of a pluralistic and diverse
media system, as the Turkish experience shows, is a tenuous one. Similar to
other national contexts in Latin America, Eastern Europe, the Middle East,
and Asia, the facade of the high number of outlets and the so-called fierce
competition among them simply serves to hide the accumulation of economic
power in the hands of a few conglomerates.87 Indeed, the media field in
Turkey is ordered around an oligopoly whereby corporate giants dominate,
small players are marginalized, entry barriers are high, and production and
distribution are centralized under conglomerates.88 The Turkish case thus
serves as a useful reminder that the free market does not create a media
field that “acts [as] an agency of information and debate that facilitates the
functioning of democracy.”89 In point of fact, this democratic ideal is un-
dermined precisely because of the adoption of free market principles since
it leads to high costs of market entry, excludes social groups with limited
financial resources from competing, and creates a “market system which is
not genuinely open to all, but which is controlled by corporate wealth.”90 In
this sense, the Turkish experience provides a counterargument to liberal
theory that argues media needs to be organized in a free market to carry out
its watchdog function. As this chapter shows, Turkey’s media transformation
was carried out by business and political elites and thus served to aggregate
the elite interests, not those of the polity. The free market was confused with
48 chapter 2
This table is based on the information presented in Kaya, Iktidar Yumagi, and Adakli, Turkiye’de Medya Endustrisi.
5/13/16 12:10 PM
freedom to communicate or democratization, but this so-called freedom was
available only to the conglomerates and not to independent actors.
Second, contrary to conventional wisdom, the Turkish experience illustrates
the state’s continuing presence (and, in some cases, calculated absence) in the
political economic domain and its central role in shaping media markets. As
seen during the mushrooming of (illegal) commercial television channels, the
state, in order to enable market liberalization chose not to institute proper
regulatory frameworks. On the other hand, it did institute stringent press and
broadcasting laws and created entities such as the RTUK not to regulate but to
manage cultural production. Turkey’s media system thus came to be defined
by the articulation of economic liberalization with weak democratic consoli-
dation and patrimonial institutions. In this regard, it resonates with its coun-
terparts in the Middle East and Southeast Asia, where late twentieth-century
media commercialization took place against the background of a certain po-
litical economic order with persistent state interference and weak democratic
institutions. In Egypt, the relative commercialization of media industries in
the 1990s resulted in growing numbers of privately owned newspapers and
magazines and greater access to foreign media and satellite television.91 Some
freedoms were recognized in the laws, but in practice media practitioners con-
tinued to suffer from prosecution, and public authorities continued to censor
content that was allegedly threatening to national security, religious beliefs,
and social norms.92 This was also partly a result of private media owners’ efforts
to reinforce regime stability in order to protect their own business interests.93
Indeed, as Tariq Sabry notes, restrictions on media and cultural production
in Arab states are not simply the byproduct of authoritarian traditions but
the result of the ruling elites’ impulse to maintain their political economic
interests.94 In Pakistan, commercial radio and television expanded early in
the twenty-first century, but their availability was circumscribed by the state.
To “shield the rural population from commercial news and entertainment,”
state authorities allowed commercial channels only on cable and satellite and
reserved terrestrial broadcasting to state media.95 They also imposed strict
regulation on commercial content in order to protect the interests of the
military, bureaucracy, and religious leaders—a trend commonly observed in
Arab media systems as well. In Turkey, media commercialization in the 1980s
and 1990s was imbricated with the heavy hand of the state and specifically the
national security paradigm that led both state-run and commercial outlets to
portray phenomena such as the Kurdish conflict and the rise of political Islam
as threats to national unity and state survival. The following chapter explores
these issues in light of the political economic alliances between media outlets,
the military, and state organs.
50 chapter 2
52 chapter 3
Media-Military Relationships
As discussed in chapter 2, mainstream media’s alignment with official state
ideology was premised on patron-client relationships between media moguls
and power brokers. In the 1990s, the military used a combination of com-
pulsion and coercion strategies to elicit the participation of media outlets
in the legitimization of anti-Kurdish sentiment. In an attempt to control
the news and information flow, for example, the General Staff restricted
journalists’ access to Kurdish provinces and military sources and even gave
direct instructions to editors and newspaper owners on how to cover the
armed conflict between the PKK and the Turkish Armed Forces. In April
1990, prominent journalists and editors were invited to a meeting with the
president, military, and intelligence officers. At the meeting they were told
not to call PKK’s activities an “uprising” and PKK members “guerrilla fight-
ers,” but to frame them as terrorism and terrorists.15 Confirming such reports
of military gatekeeping, a Kurdish journalist, who worked in mainstream
media at the time, told me:
We didn’t know what was actually happening in the southeast. Military
and government officials would release statements about PKK militants
killing innocent villagers or abducting teachers, or about how many PKK
militants were killed in the latest clashes. Yet we were never able to go and
investigate for ourselves. We were not allowed to go to [Kurdish] villages
54 chapter 3
There were other strategies that military officers used to pressure media
owners, editors, and journalists. For example, a high-ranking officer would
pay a visit to an editor and show a folder containing articles with which they
were “displeased,” and the officer would ask the editor to be “more sensi-
tive” in his paper’s coverage of the Kurdish issue. In what has been termed
the “telephone culture” of the 1990s, editors would predictably receive calls
from the General Staff when they took a critical stance toward the military’s
hardline approach.
Mainstream media’s complicity in the military-led anti-Kurdish campaign
and corresponding tactics used by high-level military officers to manage
public opinion were exposed in a jarring incident in April 1998, when al-
leged testimony from a captured PKK field commander, Semdin Sakik, got
leaked to the media by the General Staff. For two consecutive days, leading
dailies Hurriyet and Sabah printed alleged testimony that fingered a number
of politicians, journalists, and businessmen as “being on PKK’s payroll.”17
Among this group were prominent journalists Cengiz Candar and Mehmet
Ali Birand, both of whom worked at Sabah at the time. After the so-called
leaked testimony, they were readily branded by Oktay Eksi, Hurriyet’s head
columnist, as “scums” and “backstabbers,”18 after which Candar was sus-
pended and Birand fired. Two years later, in 2000, revelations surfaced that
Sakik’s testimony had been fabricated and leaked to the media by two high-
ranking military generals in a move aimed to punish Candar and Birand for
their reporting of the Turkish Armed Forces. Dinc Bilgin, the former owner
of Sabah, shed light on the “Sakik incident” in a 2006 interview:
I didn’t personally believe that Birand, Candar [and others] received money
from the PKK. But I [published the story] because I had to protect my
newspaper. Now that I look back, I know it wasn’t the right thing to do. But
back then every newspaper had relations with the military. [It was because]
of the bids and contracts distributed by the state.19
Though unsettling, the military’s suppression of news media was not lim-
ited to the “Sakik incident”; Candar and Birand were not the sole victims of
the media-military alliance. Throughout the 1990s, several journalists were
put on trial or imprisoned for expressing their political opinions on the
Kurdish issue; some were laid off by media barons who did not want to cross
the generals. For example, in 1995, Ahmet Altan was fired by mainstream
Milliyet for an op-ed column in which he ruminated “What If Ataturk Was
a Kurd?” In 1998, Andrew Finkel, a foreign correspondent in Turkey for
almost two decades, was put on trial for defaming the Turkish military and
was later fired by Sabah, for which he worked at the time.21
56 chapter 3
58 chapter 3
60 chapter 3
62 chapter 3
64 chapter 3
The following comment made by Dinc Bilgin, former owner of Sabah news-
paper, explains why the military’s “friendly suggestions” carried so much
weight:
When the military high command issued a statement, everyone trembled.
The country, with all of its institutions, had lost its balance. A military
general mentioned the army’s duty to guard the republic and the entire
country was scared. Journalists were scared. The DNA of the press corps
was out of whack. The press acted as if it were the opposition party against
the elected government, but did not dare to touch the military or state
officials. The press did not fight against military interventions. It was not
brave. It [chose to] compromise.73
66 chapter 3
Several journalists I interviewed for this study widely reported there having
been a “silent agreement” during the 1990s between the military and the
media—a consequence, perhaps, from the lesson journalists had learned from
the Kurdish conflict. An officer with the General Staff would pay a “visit” to
the Ankara bureau of the newspaper and make a “suggestion” to the bureau
chief, who would then communicate it to the editor or the newspaper’s owner
in Istanbul. Given the military’s informal authority and political weight, the
editor or the owner would already know the parameters of “acceptable” and
“unacceptable” coverage, and these parameters would then trickle down to
the reporters. There were also occasions when the military high command
would directly contact the newspaper owner. Indeed, as a journalist with a
mainstream daily told me,
Oftentimes, we didn’t even need that “courtesy visit” of the “friendly re-
minder” from the General Staff. We just knew where the red lines were.
We knew how to report on the PKK, how to report on Islamists. But every
now and then, there was an incident or unexpected development, and that
was when the General Staff would issue a statement or a press release. Then
we knew that [press release] had to be on the front-page the next day.75
The media-military alliance was not only the result of such direct and
indirect military pressures but also the product of longstanding relation-
ships between media professionals and the political elite. As discussed in
chapter 1, during the early years of the Republic, the founding elite placed
substantial emphasis on national identity and security as well as the duties
and responsibilities of citizens in the safeguarding of Kemalist principles.
Political goals set by the elite permeated media and cultural fields as well
and established specific roles for journalists, publishers, and later radio and
television producers. For many media professionals, the self-identification as
enlightened, Westernized, secularized citizens of the Republic placed them
in a natural alliance with the military-bureaucratic elite. Media profession-
als’ embracing of the official ideology not only led to the marginalization of
religious or pro-Kurdish expression on airwaves and in print; it also muted
68 chapter 3
70 chapter 3
The political economic shifts that had been underway since the
1980s created new opportunities for political actors, specifically the Islamist
AKP, to rise to power. The AKP’s election victory in 2002 and consecutive
wins in 2007 and 2011 created an amenable setting for it to establish its
electoral hegemony and deepen the existing authoritarian neoliberal or-
der. This chapter begins with an analysis of the shifts in global and local
conjunctures that facilitated the AKP’s rise, followed by an overview of its
neoliberal and pro-EU policies during its first term. It then explores how
the anti-Western and anti-globalization currents became substantial ele-
ments of media, politics, and culture in the twenty-first century. Local and
international developments—such as the EU accession process, the relative
easing of restrictions on Kurdish cultural rights, the U.S. invasion of Iraq,
the emergence of a revisionist discourse on the Armenian genocide, and
the entry of foreign media companies into the Turkish market—began to
engender fears and anxieties among the nationalists about the decline of the
Turkish state. Through the lens of these developments, this chapter discusses
the tensions between globalizing and statist dynamics as well as the AKP’s
consolidation of the authoritarian neoliberal order.
74 chapter 4
76 chapter 4
78 chapter 4
80 chapter 4
82 chapter 4
84 chapter 4
Conclusion
As seen through the lens of media-related developments, the period be-
tween 2002 and 2010 were marked by change and continuity: new laws were
introduced to reform state-society relations but were not effectively put in
practice, pro-EU policies were met with nationalist resistance, and the AKP’s
democratization agenda was articulated with authoritarian statist impulses.
To better understand the paradoxical nature of these developments, it is use-
ful to highlight David Harvey’s notion of the dialectic tension between the
“logic of the market” and the “logic of territory,” which Gholam Khiabany
uses in his analysis of the Iranian media. According to Khiabany, the Iranian
state has been caught between the need to maintain its ideological hegemony
and its very own modernization, development, and economic liberaliza-
tion agenda and the “straightjacket of Islamism” and the “pragmatism and
the imperative of the market.” This tension, in the field of broadcasting for
example, has pushed the Iranian state to “seek to expand and privatize the
sector but remain fearful of private capital and private television channels”
at the same time.69
In Turkey, similar tensions played out between pro-globalization and pro-
market movements and the nationalist and statist countermovements, as
discussed above. Although there are admittedly contextual dissimilarities
between the Turkish and the Iranian experiences, the red thread that runs
through them both is the articulation of economic liberalism with central-
ized state authority. In Turkey, the nationalist reaction to the EU reforms,
the resistance against the opening of the broadcasting market to foreign
capital, and the backlash against the expansion of Kurdish cultural rights
were intricately tied with the AKP government’s (ambiguous) liberalization
agenda, both political and economic.
In the early years of the twenty-first century, the statist and nationalist
ethos continued to dominate politics, culture, and media despite the AKP’s
reforms—or perhaps this ethos reemerged as an indomitable force because
of those reforms. The economic liberalization program opened Turkish mar-
kets to greater capital flows and integrated them with global networks (for
better or worse), while the EU accession negotiations paved the way to legal
86 chapter 4
The 2001 economic crisis had a domino effect on the media in-
dustry. Following the collapse of several banks, the TMSF took over their
media assets and auctioned them off—a process that led to the elimination
of major media conglomerates (Bilgin, Uzan, and Ihlas) and facilitated the
entry of new players, both foreign (CanWest and NewsCorp) and domestic
(Dogus, Ciner). By 2008–2010, this transformation deepened further with the
emergence or strengthening of AKP-friendly media companies (Calik, Feza,
Samanyolu, and Ipek-Koza) and a consequent upsurge in partisanship. In
addition to the reshuffling of media ownership structures and the realignment
of patron-client relationships, 2008–2010 also witnessed the legal hounding
of journalists charged with coup attempts and terrorist propaganda during
major political investigations such as those of Ergenekon and the KCK. As
I explain in further detail in coming sections, the Ergenekon investigation
charged more than a dozen journalists with conspiring with the military to
overthrow the AKP government, while the KCK operation targeted Kurdish
journalists and accused them of helping to promulgate terrorist propaganda.
Needless to say, these two probes struck further blows against press freedoms
and intensified the existing political economic pressures on media owners
and professionals alike.
This chapter explores specific economic, political, and legal developments
in 2005–2013 and their repercussions on media ownership structures, free-
doms of press and communications, and media-military relationships.1 It
discusses the cultivation of the partisan media bloc, financial and legal pres-
sures on mainstream media, the antimilitary campaign carried out by Gulen-
affiliated outlets and the politicization of press freedom issues.
Media-Military-State Relationships 89
90 chapter 5
Media-Military-State Relationships 91
92 chapter 5
Media-Military-State Relationships 93
In 2011, NTV also terminated two political news shows produced and
hosted by veteran journalists Can Dundar and Rusen Cakir. Responding to
questions about his departure, Dundar underlined the “dawn of a new era in
Turkey’s media field” marked by a “widespread purge, a cleanup” that possibly
will render “certain channels, newspapers or cadres of journalists [unable]
to find a place for themselves.”26 In addition to these specific changes, NTV
also shifted its overall policy away from news and politics toward entertain-
ment and lifestyle programming. These changes, according to Bugra and
Savaskan, can be attributed to the AKP’s election victory in 2011 when NTV’s
corporate owner, Dogus Holding, realized the need to curry favors with the
government for the sake of its economic interests.27
There were other mainstream outlets that bowed down to AKP pressures
(or perhaps were enticed by privatization deals, cheap credits, and the like)
and fired some of their most prominent columnists. In 2012, Ece Temelkuran
of HaberTurk and Nuray Mert of Milliyet were dismissed for their criticism of
the AKP’s Kurdish policy. The AKP-friendly papers were not immune from
layoffs either. In 2011, Andrew Finkel, a journalist based in Turkey for more
than two decades, was fired from Today’s Zaman for saying that the “AKP
government’s fight against anti-democratic forces was taking a decidedly
undemocratic turn.”28 In 2012, Mehmet Altan, editor-in-chief of Star, lost
his position when he started criticizing the government after many years of
support.29 Another pro-AKP newspaper, Yeni Safak, fired Ali Akel because
of his criticism of Erdogan regarding an air raid in southeastern Turkey that
claimed the lives of thirty-five Kurdish villagers. In the meantime, the impris-
onment and wiretapping of journalists under a major political investigation
known as the Ergenekon investigation played a crucial role in the remaking
of the media system in 2008–2010. The following sections take a closer look
at this investigation, its imprisonment of journalists, and its implications on
the relationships between the AKP, media, and the military.
94 chapter 5
Media-Military-State Relationships 95
96 chapter 5
Media-Military-State Relationships 97
98 chapter 5
Media-Military-State Relationships 99
100 chapter 5
102 chapter 5
Conclusion
This chapter has discussed the remaking of the media field during the period
between 2005 and 2013 by exploring the reshuffling of ownership structures,
the AKP’s strategic use of economic sticks and carrots, and the arrests of
journalists working in both the mainstream and the Kurdish press. How can
one understand the AKP’s incursions into the media field? Journalists and
media and political analysts have generally discussed these issues within the
framework of press freedoms, journalistic autonomy, and professionalism.
Notwithstanding the significance of the press freedom framework, I find it
equally important to reflect on the media/state or market/state relationships
that have been discussed in various national, regional, and transnational
contexts. Some of these analyses draw upon a liberal perspective and as-
sume that the market and the state are opposites, and that the former is a
104 chapter 5
106 chapter 5
108 chapter 6
110 chapter 6
112 chapter 6
114 chapter 6
Leaked Tapes
The AKP–Gulen media war was not limited to newspapers and television
channels, but also played out on social media. Gulen loyalists, hoping to strike
a blow to the AKP in the approaching local elections, began to post tran-
scripts of leaked conversations between Erdogan, his cabinet ministers, and
partisan businessmen on YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and Soundcloud. The
reason Gulenists posted these incriminating conversations under individual
social media accounts as opposed to via mass media is twofold: they wanted
116 chapter 6
118 chapter 6
120 chapter 6
122 chapter 6
124 chapter 6
Conclusion
During the Gezi protests, social media served as a vital source of information,
organization, and political expression especially among urban, tech-savvy
youths. Likewise, during the corruption scandal, government opponents
leaned on social media to disseminate incriminating evidence against Erdo-
gan, his party, and his cabinet. In both cases, the AKP responded by adopting
a heavy-handed approach (e.g., detaining Twitter users, banning Twitter and
YouTube, passing a new Internet Law) and by depicting social media plat-
forms, companies, and users as forces bent on destroying Turkey’s national
unity, state sovereignty, social cohesion, and moral values. In this sense,
pressuring Western-based social media companies to remove content and
threatening to ban them in cases of noncompliance could be read as populist
initiatives on the part of the AKP. For example, when Erdogan said, “We
will eradicate Twitter. I don’t care what the international community says.
Everyone will witness the power of the Turkish Republic,” he was not only
concerned with the online dissemination of damaging evidence against his
government but was also energizing the party’s Muslim nationalist base. By
depicting Twitter as an external enemy and the ban as a way of taking on the
West, Erdogan was appealing to nationalist sentiments, and perhaps using
the ban as a substitute for the lost geopolitical power of Turkey’s predecessor,
the Ottoman Empire.
As this chapter has shown, the AKP’s regulation and control of the online
public sphere along the axes of nationalism, statism, and religious conser-
vatism are not new. Since 2005–2007, the TIB and the BTK have engaged
in extensive filtering and blocking and have asked local and transnational
companies to remove certain content on several occasions, and the AKP-
dominated Parliament has constructed a strict(er) legal framework. The
deployment of these various tools points to Turkish authorities’ combin-
ing the first-, second-, and third-generation controls that Ronald Deibert
and Rafal Rohozinski discuss in their analysis of governmental censorship
and control of the Internet around the globe. Whereas the first-generation
controls consist of Internet filtering and blocking, the second-generation
controls involve the passing of legal restrictions, content removal requests,
the technical shutdown of websites, and computer-network attacks; and the
third-generation controls include warrantless surveillance, the creation of
“national cyber-zones,” state-sponsored information campaigns, and direct
physical action to silence individuals or groups.80
126 chapter 6
Turkey has experienced tectonic shifts in all spheres of life for more
than three decades. Post 1980, the Republican project was subject to a trans-
formation that, despite its leading to massive shifts in political economic
structures, still left the centralized, authoritarian character of the state un-
touched. Since 2002, another wave of transformation occurred as the AKP
came to power and began to undermine the political economic privileges of
the military and its civilian allies.1 Yet this transformation did not lead to a
more democratic order but, on the contrary, paved the way to a reconsoli-
dation of the long-standing authoritarian neoliberal trajectories, this time
mixed with religious-conservative ideology.2
128 Conclusion
Conclusion 129
130 Conclusion
Conclusion 131
132 Conclusion
Conclusion 133
134 Conclusion
Conclusion 135
136 Conclusion
Conclusion 137
138 Conclusion
Conclusion 139
140 Conclusion
Conclusion 141
142 Conclusion
When I completed this book in May 2015, Turkey was gearing up for
general elections. Erdogan was divisive and polarizing as ever as he tried to
energize the AKP’s voter base (despite his supposedly bipartisan position as
the president), tapping into Muslim nationalist sentiments and portraying
his new political rival, the pro-Kurdish HDP (Halklarin Demokrat Partisi—
People’s Democratic Party), as a threat to state sovereignty. Yet the outcome
of June 7 elections was a huge disappointment for Erdogan. For the first time
since 2002, the AKP had not been able to secure a parliamentary majority.
It had still garnered 40 percent of the votes, but with the entry of the HDP
into the Parliament (also a historic first for a pro-Kurdish party), it no longer
had the outright majority to change the constitution and pave the way to
Erdogan’s super-presidency.
As opposition parties and especially the HDP voters (a broad alliance of
Kurds, liberals, women, LGBT individuals, and leftists) celebrated the election
results, Turkey began to discuss various options for a coalition government.
While talks dragged on, an ISIS bomb attack killed thirty-three activists in late
July in Suruc, a town near the border with Syria. The activists had gathered
to lend a helping hand to Syrian Kurds so they could rebuild their war-torn
town of Kobane.1 The attack not only illustrated how the Syrian conflict had
crept over to Turkey with deadly consequences, but it also signaled the end
of the peace process that had been in the making for years between the Turk-
ish state and the PKK. The following weeks witnessed violent clashes in the
predominantly Kurdish southeast while Erdogan insisted that the AKP was
the only capable actor to restore stability to the country. To his opponents,
Erdogan was intentionally stoking the anti-Kurdish sentiment to discredit
144 Epilogue
Epilogue 145
Introduction
1. “What in the World.”
2. For a criticism of this narrative, see Meyersson and Rodrik, “Erdogan’s Coup.”
3. Parkinson, “Turkey’s Economy Keeps Humming,” Spencer and Zalewski, “Tur-
key’s Ruling Party.”
4. During AKP rule, GDP per capita has increased from approximately $3,500
in 2002 to $10,000 in 2012. This increase was interpreted by the AKP as the tripling
of the Turkish economy and became a recurring talking point in much of Western
media coverage. However, when evaluated in real (as opposed to nominal) terms, the
GDP growth was 38 percent. See Meyersson, “Illiberal Pull in Turkey, “and “Tired
of Bad Talking Points.”
5. M. Lee, “Clinton Eyes Turkey.”
6. Kliman and Fontaine, “Global Swing Sates.”
7. As Bugra and Savaskan note, the Turkish economy was faced with two major
issues: high unemployment rates (around 10 percent between 2002 and 2008, 14
percent in 2009, 11 percent in 2010, 9 percent in 2011 and 2012) and a significant cur-
rent account deficit (9 percent in 2011). Despite these figures, which were worryingly
high in comparison to most OECD members, the Turkish economy and the AKP’s
economic policies were nonetheless viewed in a positive light due to the accelerated
privatization program, increasing foreign direct investment and steady capital inflows.
See Bugra and Savaskan, New Capitalism in Turkey, 64–66.
8. Bugralilar, “Prisoners of Democracy.” In 2014, the problem of overcrowded
prisons worsened as the number of inmates rose to 159,475. See “Buildup in Turkey’s
Prison Population.”
9. Beiser, “Second Worst Year,” 2013.
10. Kasaba and Bozdogan, Rethinking Modernity; Keyman, Remaking Turkey; Ok-
Chapter 4. The AKP Era: Between the Market and the State
1. “Dervis: Turkiye’ye Gelen”; Moore, “Argument Costs Turkey $5 Billion.”
2. Bugra and Savaskan, 53; Onis, “Triumph of Conservative Globalism,” 138–139.
3. Vick, “Turkish Vote.”
4. Pope and Pope, Turkey Unveiled, 323.
5. Ibid., 323.
6. Vick, “Turkish Vote.”
7. Turam, Between Islam and the State.
8. Taspinar, “Turkey.”
9. Onis, “Political Islam at the Crossroads,” 284; Yavuz, Secularism and Muslim
Democracy; Atasoy, Islam’s Marriage with Neoliberalism.
10. Turam, Between Islam and the State, 64.
11. Taspinar, “Turkey.”
12. Onis, “The Political Economy of Turkey’s Justice and Development Party.”
13. Lagendijk, “Turkey’s Accession.”
14. Between 1985 and 2003, privatization amounted to 8.2 billion dollars. Follow-
ing the AKP’s privatization program, it reached approximately 36.4 billion dollars
between 2004 and 2009. See Guran, “Political Economy of Privatization.”
15. Bugra and Savaskan, New Capitalism in Turkey, 66.
16. Cosar and Ozman, “Centre-Right Politics in Turkey.”
17. Oktem, Angry Nation, 118.
18. Onis, “Triumph of Conservative Globalism,” 139.
19. Yeldan, “Patterns of Adjustment.”
20. The AKP’s legal reforms were actually based on the National Program prepared
by the previous coalition government in response to the EU’s 2000 Accession Partner-
ship Report. The EU had set forth the following criteria in this report: 1) strengthen
legal and constitutional guarantees for the right to freedom of expression, freedom
of association, and peaceful assembly; 2) reinforce the fight against torture and ill-
treatment and all violations of human rights; 3) improve the functioning and the
efficiency of the judiciary; 4) maintain the de facto moratorium on death penalty;
5) remove all legal barriers that prohibit the use of languages other than Turkish in
broadcasting.
21. Hale, “Human Rights”; Oktem, Angry Nation, 124; Pope and Pope, Turkey Un-
veiled, 332–335.
22. Kirisci, “Kurdish Question and Turkish Foreign Policy.”
23. Jenkins, “Context and Circumstance,” 9.
24. Muftuler-Bac, “Turkey’s Political Reforms.”
25. “Anti-Americanism.”
Conclusion
1. McCargo and Zarakol, “Turkey and Thailand,” 72, 73.
2. Akca, Bekmen, and Ozden, Turkey Reframed.
3. Kahn and Srivastava, “Fragile?”
4. Tombus, “Reluctant Democratization,” 321.
5. For a general discussion of the Turkish model, see “Can the Turkish Model Gain
Traction?” and “U.S.-Turkey Relations.”
6. Ulgen, “From Inspiration to Aspiration”; Tol, “‘Turkish Model’ in the Middle
East.”
7. Altunisik, Turkey.
8. Akgun and Gundogar, Ortadogu’da Turkiye Algisi.
Epilogue
1. Shoumali and Yeginsu, “Turkey Says Suicide Bomb.”
2. Peker, “Turkey Sets Date.”
3. “Turkey to Form Interim Government.”
4. “Ankara Bombing.”
5. Onderoglu, “BIA Medya Gozlem Temmuz.”
6. “Turkey Deports Dutch Journalist.”
7. Bolton, “Vice News Journalist Mohammed Rasool.”
8. Yeginsu, “Opposition Journalists under Assault.”
9. Shaheen and Timur, “Turkish Media Denounce ‘Biggest Crackdown.’”
10. “MIT Tirlari Sorusturmasi.”
“17 Aralik Yolsuzluk Sorusturmasina ‘Elestiri’ Dahil Yayin Yasagi.” T24, Janu-
ary 24, 2014. http://t24.com.tr/haber/17-aralik-sorusturmasina-yayin-yasagi
-getirildi,248913.
“Abortion Sparks Raging Debate in Turkey.” Hurriyet Daily News, May 28, 2012.
http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/abortion-sparks-raging-debate-in-turkey
.aspx?PageID=238&NID=21740.
Abu-Lughod, Lila. Dramas of Nationhood: The Politics of Television in Egypt. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2005.
Adakli, Gulseren. “The Process of Neo-liberalization and the Transformation of the
Turkish Media Sector in the Context of the New Media Architecture.” In Mediat-
ing Europe: New Media, Mass Communications and the European Public Sphere,
edited by Jackie Harrison and Bridgette Wessels, 286–317. New York: Berghahn
Books, 2009.
———. Turkiye’de Medya Endustrisi: Neoliberalizm Caginda Mulkiyet ve Kontrol Il-
iskileri. Ankara: Utopya, 2006.
———. “2002–2008: Turk Medyasinda AKP Etkisi.” In AKP Kitabi: Bir Donemin Bi-
lancosu, edited by Ilhan Uzgel and Bulent Duru, 559–613. Istanbul: Phoenix, 2010.
———. “Yayincilik Alaninda Mulkiyet ve Kontrol.” In Medya Politikalari, edited by
Beybin Kejanlioglu, Sevilay Celenk, and Gulseren Adakli, 145–204. Ankara: Imge,
2001.
Adalet, Begum, Defne Over, Onur Ozgode, and Semih Salihoglu. “The Gezi Park Pro-
tests and the Future of Turkish Politics: An Interview with Seyla Benhabib.” Dissent,
September 9, 2013. http://www.dissentmagazine.org/online_articles/the-gezi-park
-protests-and-the-future-of-turkish-politics-an-interview-with-seyla-benhabib.
“AdEx: Public Firms Biased in Favor of Pro-gov’t Newspapers.” Today’s Zaman, July 18,
2014. http://www.todayszaman.com/business_adex-public-firms-biased-in-favor
-of-pro-govt-newspapers_353408.html.
172 Bibliography
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174 Bibliography
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176 Bibliography
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178 Bibliography
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182 Bibliography
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188 Bibliography
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190 Bibliography
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192 Bibliography
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194 Bibliography
Bibliography 195
196 Bibliography
Bibliography 197
198 Bibliography
Bibliography 199
200 Bibliography
Bibliography 201
202 Bibliography
Bibliography 203
204 Bibliography
Bibliography 205
206 Bibliography
Bibliography 207
208 Bibliography
210 Index
Index 211
212 Index