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The politics of condottieri arms in Renaissance Italy, or why Machiavelli loathed mercenaries

October 25, 2013 by Strife Staff

Contracting for military and security services is an extremely old phenomenon, emerging many centuries previous to the latest generation of contemporary Private Military and Security Companies (PMSCs). However, the modern phenomenon has reached unprecedented breadth, given the extent to which contracting for military and security services has grown, covering combat and security training, armed guard, intelligence and combat support logistics.

Since the early 1990s, there have been hundreds of scholarly and journalistic publications on PMSCs. This trend continues as publications about the industry are on the rise -unfortunately with many arguments repeated time and again. This is why the authors in this series have been challenged to take an angle as of yet lacking from debates about private contracting. Framed by a new look at contracting experiences from Machiavelli’s times at the beginning of the series and an examination of current and future regulatory options for private contractors at the end, the series also touches on the US experience of logistics outsourcing, as well as the perspective of individual contractors.

In the first instalment in the series, today’s piece will take us back to an age long past. Pablo de Orellana will take a new look at Machiavelli’s views on mercenaries and will argue that his reservations against contracted forces can best be explained by their impact on Renaissance state-building and governance.

Birthe Anders
Department of War Studies, King’s College London
PMSCs Series Editor

***

The Private Military Security Contractors Series. Part I:
The politics of condottieri arms in Renaissance Italy, or why Machiavelli loathed mercenaries

by Pablo de Orellana

The last of the Renaissance mercenary ‘arme ausiliarie’: the Pontifical Swiss Guard swearing-in ceremony

In 1512, the Florentine native military contingent so ardently advocated by Machiavelli in his major works, The Art of War, The Prince and Discourses, was disastrously defeated, bringing about the downfall of the Florentine Republic, the return of the Medici to power and Machiavelli’s own dismissal from government, torture, and exile. Yet in The Prince, written the following year, exactly five centuries ago, he continues to make constant reference to mercenary forces being ‘useless and dangerous’. [1] This article outlines the main reasons as to this position, concluding that Machiavelli’s loathing of mercenaries was not animated by the tired, old, moral analogy of mercenarism and unpatriotic prostitution or even by pragmatic tactical reasons, as it appears from The Prince. No debate on Private Military Security Companies (PMSCs) can omit reference to Machiavelli; however he is still often poorly understood beyond the omnipresent quote of ‘useless and dangerous’. Returning to the original Machiavelli texts, I argue that his concerns about mercenaries were due to the challenge of renaissance mercenary practices to the politics of state-building and governance.

The historical background to the practice as it was during the Renaissance is essential in discussing Machiavelli’s position on the employment of mercenaries. The practice of hiring military forces by feudal lords and cities probably originated in the constant feuds of the 11^th Century. ‘[T]here were in Italy at that time many soldiers, English, German and Bretons, brought over by those princes […] it was with these that all Italian princes made their wars’. [2] Feudal lords and republics hired men from the masnadas, bands of soldiers demobilised after the crusades and the Sicilian Vespers; the relationship was determined by a condotta, a contract or agreement between the hiring authorities and the condottiere, the leader of the mercenary force. The practice however, brought about the downfall of many clients: due to dependence of entire states upon their services, condottieri were able to dictate terms to clients, betraying them and in some cases even replacing them. The most notable in this regard were Francesco Sforza (1401-1466), who took over Milan from his clients the Visconti, and Andrea Doria, a Genoese admiral who fought for Charles V of the Austrian/Spanish House of Habsburg.

Machiavelli recounts some of these treacherous actions by mercenaries, but most often (as in The Prince) he chooses to engage with the issue on the basis of their tactical disadvantages: their dubious loyalty; the feasibility of training more loyal native militias to their professional level instead, their prohibitive cost, even their occasional willingness to be paid off by mercenaries employed by an enemy city to the detriment of both their employers. What worried Machiavelli most about mercenaries, however, was the political power and short-term coercive leverage they were able to wield against their own clients. Condottieri were problematic by virtue of limited contractual loyalty based on pay, but even more so because of their capacity to radically upset domestic constitutional order. They were able to blackmail clients and move to the pay of a rival like Federico da Montefeltro, or as Francesco Sforza proved, take over their states. The 1494 French invasion of Italy, for instance, was partly made possible by the defection to France of Milan’s condottiere Gian Giacomo Trivulzio. That invasion, however, not only made clear to Machiavelli the unreliability of mercenary forces, but also proved beyond doubt that national armies with a mix of levies and professionals under the leadership of a skilled and inspiring prince were vastly superior to mercenary forces. This was, Machiavelli explains, due to the relationship between them, which was based on vassalage, loyalty, duty and law. [3]

Even more problematic than mercenary loyalty for constitution and governance, however, was the constitutive effect on the institutions of government, especially the military. In Machiavelli’s view, contracting mercenaries had the effect of destabilising and weakening your own forces. The misguided son of King Charles VII of France, made this mistake: ‘having given reputation to the Swiss [mercenaries], he dispirited his own arms [as] they did not think it was possible to win without them’. [4] This was a twofold political problem in terms of strategic defence: the arms of the state had little morale, confidence and experience; in the longer term this could make defence of a principality entirely dependent on outside forces. Furthermore, this institutional vicious circle made training your own native forces more difficult, slower and less expedient in the short term than hiring mercenaries, further undermining or delaying the establishment of a reliable native force.

Having an unstable and untrustworthy defence force has dramatic effects on governance, Machiavelli argues. He sees a crucial relationship between governance and defence as the main engine of state-building and governance: ‘the principal fundamentals that link all states, those new, old or mixed, are good laws and good arms: […] there cannot be good laws without good arms.’ [5] This is due to the risk of remaining undefended, which destabilises the state: ‘among the reasons that bring you harm, being unarmed makes you contemptible’. [6] Clearly, for Machiavelli there cannot be a stable practice of governance without the assurance of a dependable defence force to protect the territory, its people and governors against the ambitions of ‘the barbarians’ or foreign invaders, other lords, other states and transnational factions. The latter were particularly problematic, as they were both external and internal to any single city-state in Renaissance Italy. Guelphs (supporters of Papal supremacy) and Ghibellines (supporters of the supremacy of the Holy Roman Empire) had fought over control of many Northern Italian city-states for the three centuries preceding Machiavelli, routinely taking over power and exiling each other from their native states. Notably, Guelphs and Ghibellines were domestic factions in each city, and were able to appeal to the help of successful members of their faction in other cities. Additionally, as is evident from the Discourses, mercenary forces are to Machiavelli the employees of their client, not the state directly, which has a distinct political effect among subjects: ‘when you disarm [the people] you are starting to offend them: you are showing that you distrust them either for cowardice or little faith, and either of these opinions generates hatred against you’. [7] Thus the immediate political effect is to suggest among citizens a sense of occupation and repression, which has repercussions for how a government or a lord comes to be appreciated by their subjects, and subsequently for their loyalty. This aspect of how mercenary forces come to be perceived has a reverse corollary: whilst the people come to see their prince as dependant on foreign forces and distrusting his subjects, the former becomes more and more dependent upon the condottiere, the mercenary leader, which has the direct effect of undermining his sovereignty and that of the state. This was not only true of autocratic rulers, it also greatly affected republican regimes such as in Machiavelli’s own Florence during his time as segretario of the Republic.

Machiavelli’s work remains extremely influential and iconic in a number of fields, including the study of PMSCs. This paper has offered an exploration of Machiavelli’s historical and political context before marking a return to his original texts, advancing the argument that Machiavelli’s consideration of mercenaries was not only the view that they were ‘useless and dangerous’, or the ramblings of an amateur tactician complaining about unreliable troops, but rather that the use of mercenary troops posed very serious political challenges. What follows from the argument I have made here, is that Machiavelli saw the extensive use of, and indeed dependence upon mercenaries as a roadblock to state-building and to the consolidation of stable sovereign rule. Good governance was directly challenged by the use of hired forces: they did not provide a stable, loyal or reliable line of defence; they rendered the organisation of a native force more unlikely and challenging and finally, and most problematically, they created political strife by placing all military power in the hands of the prince or an official, rather than making it a collective defence duty that could, additionally, unify the population and inspire loyalty. The prince or official were in turn dependent on the leadership of the mercenaries, the condottiere, which vastly eroded their independence.

Hiring mercenaries, we might conclude, was a dual political bind in the Italian Renaissance. They rendered more difficult the creation of an alternative defence force, making the state dependent upon them. They also undermined governance itself by undermining the domestic political value of defence, stable defence itself, as well as the independence of the ruler, thus making ‘good laws’ or governance more difficult. The use of mercenaries and security contractors was to change in the following centuries, and it is of interest to enquire as to how the political bind posed by the employment of mercenaries, problematised by Machiavelli and explored here, was addressed by successive rulers and governments.

__________________________________
NOTES
[1] The Prince XII
[2] Istorie Fiorentine, I, XXXIV, all translations my own.
[3] The Prince, XX
[4] The Prince, 13
[5] The Prince XII
[6] The Prince, XIV
[7] The Prince, 20

The lost art of propaganda

October 2, 2013 by Strife Staff

By Thomas Colley
(@ThomasColley)

Much has been made of the recently revealed MOD report on how to ‘sell’ war to the British public.

Critics have lambasted the MOD for attempting to manipulate the public to support war, evoking memories of Iraq in 2003. Anger was particularly generated by the suggestion that the profile of repatriation ceremonies should be reduced in order to reduce the casualty aversion of the British public. Unfortunately, by focusing on this, the media have missed the point of an astute report on how Britain should conduct future wars. Nonetheless, the report’s release under the Freedom of Information Act reveals a number of insights on how British strategic communication could be improved, and the continuing importance of its bedfellow, propaganda.

Much has been made in the literature on political communication of the difference between propaganda and strategic communications. The definitions of these terms are as most experts admit almost identical, being based essentially on the variety of methods used to influence people to think and/or act in a desired way for political purposes. Yet many experts insist that they are distinctly different. Strategic communications is supposedly based on transparency, openness and truth, and is favoured model for political communication in the information age. Propaganda on the other hand is seen by many experts as nefarious, based on selectivity, manipulation and deceit, a relic of the time of Goebbels and inapt for the modern media environment. However, as the controversy surrounding the MOD report demonstrates, the principles of propaganda should not be forgotten.

Firstly, presenting to the public an article explaining how war is to be sold to them would make Goebbels turn in his grave. As any good propagandist or strategic communicator knows, as soon as a message is revealed as propagandistic, it will be immediately rejected. People tend not to welcome evidence that their thoughts and behaviour are being influenced by their political overseers. Strategic communicators may preach openness and transparency, but surely the information operations of the MOD would be better served by never letting such an article see the light of day? Either that or employ propaganda’s old ally, censorship, and remove content sure to provoke public outrage. This could have prevented a sensible report explaining how future war should be conducted being framed as a scandalous attempt to prevent the public from honouring their dead in order to maintain support for war.

Critics may argue that it is wrong on principle to advocate government secrecy, propaganda and censorship. Others may claim that since it is highly likely that information will be revealed in an age where it is so freely available, being ‘first with the truth’ is preferable to secrecy. However, the point is that if the government is to conduct a communication campaign, openly telling the public how you intend to influence or manipulate them is neither sensible nor strategic.

As it is, whilst the report is insightful regarding public antipathy towards war, the profile of repatriation ceremonies is a peripheral point at best. Casualty aversion in liberal democratic states is not primarily determined by the sight of the dead. Liberal democracies have had no problem accepting mass casualties when the cause has been seen as sufficiently important, be it the defeat of fascism, communism or the explicit threat of terrorism. Casualty aversion originates before a conflict even begins, based on whether the reasons for military action are sufficiently strong. Minimising casualties during a conflict will sustain public opinion, but that is nothing new. By far the greatest problem the MOD faces is convincing people that military action is worthwhile in the first place.

The almost sole focus on reducing casualty aversion also represents incomplete analysis of the public reluctance to go to war. Mercenaries, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles and Special Forces are intelligent ways to depersonalise future warfare, reducing the body count and thereby mollifying public opinion. However, casualty aversion is not the sole source of public opposition to war. Having studied the online commentary on both the Libya intervention and the debates surrounding intervention in Syria, much of the British public’s concern is actually economic. In Libya, public opinion was more concerned that the government should solve the domestic economic crisis rather than expending funds on ‘yet another war’.

So where should Britain’s strategic communication go from here? As the MOD suggests, a ‘clear and constant information campaign’ is needed to persuade a cynical public to support future wars. The primary focus should be in constructing a convincing strategic narrative to explain why Britain’s forces should be employed, whether in Syria or wherever the next conflict will be. This strategic narrative should explain the political and economic reasons for intervention in ways that relate to the lives of the British public. However, the government needs to be prepared to adopt the principles of propaganda in order to preserve the efficacy of these operations. One thing is certain; telling people how you intend to sell war to them is not a good start.

The rise of the far right in France

September 22, 2013 by Strife Staff

By Deborah Asseraf

File:Marine Le Pen banquet des Mille Paris XV l maitrier éléctions presidentielles.jpg

French Interior Minister Manuel Valls announced last June the banning of two far-right militant groups: L’Oeuvre Française (The French Work) and Jeunesses Nationalistes (Nationalist Youth), the youth wing of L’Oeuvre. The government is clearly trying to show that it will undermine all forms of extremism that represent a danger for the Republic. However, the tense climate in which political issues are shaped these days in France recalls the heyday of far-right groups in the 1930s. Indeed, the very act of disbanding extremist groups required the use of a law from 1936. It has been a long time since issues such threats to the social order by extremist groups has been on the political agenda. However, even if a parallel can be drawn it would be rather inaccurate to compare the 1930s too closely with contemporary France. The 2010s will be remembered for a tough economic downturn and the growth of extremism. To understand this trend there are two different areas to consider.

To begin with, it is fundamental to distinguish the changes occurring in the traditional French political chessboard from the groups evolving outside of it. There are daily issues highlighting the growing influence of far-right ideologies within the French political system and violent extremist right-wing groups becoming increasingly more visible on the political scene. These two distinct levels ground the contemporary far-right phenomenon. One of my teachers at Sciences Po Paris once observed that modern French politics had grown more peaceful over the past few decades; ideology was not as significant as it used to be. People no longer vote for an ideal model of society. They are not strongly right-wing or left-wing, as they used to be during the Cold War, for instance. He concluded by saying:‘If we were in the 1960s or 1970s when I was a student here, you would not have had reasoned political debates as you do now, you would literally have fought for your ideas’. I also thought ideas did not lead to violence anymore; I thought there was no ideological motivation behind violence in France. Violence such as expressed in riots seemed rather to be caused by social distress and delinquency. However, far-right ideology as a motive for violence as proclaimed by extremist groups made the headlines in spring 2013.

These groups became so visible this year that they completely reshaped the political agenda. Gay marriage became a matter of national identity; with anti-gay marriage protesters denouncing the bill using arguments based on natural law, recalling a deeply conservative vision of family as a unit of only a man and a woman. Created on the 24 March 2013 on the occasion of a demonstration against gay marriage, the Printemps Français (French Spring) surfaced as the most violent branch of the movement. Their manifesto brings together various elements of right-wing ideology from social conservatism to anti-globalisation. and does not acknowledge the legitimacy of the republican state. Their slogan is “On ne lâche rien” (We won’t give up), and protests continued even after the bill was passed. A second event highlighted the sudden visibility of far-right groups: the death of the left-wing ‘anti-fascist’ militant and Sciences Po student, Clément Méric, in early June. Allegedly struck in the face by a member of the Nationalist Youth during an altercation, he fell in the middle of a crowded street in Paris and died of his wounds. The Méric case has shaken French politics and was the principle factor that led to the banning of the Oeuvre Française and Jeunesses Nationalistes.

The rise of the far right in France does not only concern violent underground groups. It is linked to the crystallization of social frustration and the legitimization of its discourse. Recent national election results highlight the fact that the far right is not only gaining voters from the traditional right but also from the left. Opinion polls show the disaffection of the working class towards the left and the very use of the word “class” appears to have become somewhat absolete. The Parti Socialiste in France is often described as falsely left-wing, whilst hard left appears to be not about liberalism and the acceptance of the free-market, but rather a strong anti-globalisation stance. Jean Luc Mélenchon (Front de Gauche, Left Front) gathered 11% of the votes in the presidential election of 2012. In comparison, FN candidate Marine Le Pen won nearly twice as many votes (19%). What the FN programme offers is quintessentially populist: a denial of the overwhelming power of economic liberalism crossed with xenophobia. Whilst Mélenchon’s Left Front with its strong socialism seemed like a short-lived phenomenon, the political recipe of the FN has worked over the years. The far right took the sovereign, anti-globalisation vision of the hard left and added social conservatism. Those stakes grounded the shift in the working-class vote (29% FN) from the left to the far right that political analysts depict.

This observation requires nuancing: the droitisation (movement directed towards the right) of the working-class vote does not only benefit the far right but also the republican right. Droitisation was considered a major contribution to Nicolas Sarkozy’s 2007 victory. Sarkozy’s strength came from his capacity to gather together very different trends within the right, extending his political rhetoric to delicate issues that traditionally serve the interests of the far right: security, immigration and national identity. Thanks for this are also due to his campaign adviser Patrick Buisson, who comes from the UMP’s (Union pour un Mouvement Populaire, Sarkozy’s Party) hardline conservative wing. This shift crystallised resentment and frustration, becoming cornerstones of the discourse and action of his government. By openly courting FN voters at the end of his 2012 campaign he legitimized the FN. The growing influence of the far right is, therefore, also due to a process of legitimization as the Front National (FN) has strived to become publicly acceptable. After its founder, the controversial Jean Marie Le Pen who had been convicted of racism, anti-Semitism and Holocaust-denial over the past four decades, left the party to his daughter, the image of the FN changed considerably. Giving it a “modern” image, she stresses that FN is right-wing, not the “extreme” right. Marine Le Pen’s strategy was combined with the legitimization of the FN’s core issues at the top of the traditional republican right agenda.

This growing affinity is one of the scariest trends in the history of French right: the extremist party does no longer appears extreme and the boundaries between republican right and hard right have blurred. Extremism has not disappeared from the French or European political landscape. The far right phenomenon is not reduced to one party, its ideology has a broad influence that crosses political borders and is expressed in ballot boxes as well as in the streets of Paris.

Deborah Asseraf is a postgraduate student in Sciences Po Paris, specializing in the field of public policy, and president of Sciences Po Public Affairs Master’s society. She is interested international relations and politics.

#pañueloblanco

July 15, 2013 by Strife Staff

By Laura Hamilton

Symbols have been used for centuries to allow people to demonstrate they belong to a group, reflect their beliefs and show solidarity with a cause. With time they become icons – for better or for worse – and just one look at a symbol can evoke the memory of the cause associated with it. I will look at the movement of the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo in Argentina and their trademark white headscarf (pañuelo blanco in Spanish), an example of a symbol prior to the age of the Twitter and Facebook, where solidarity to a cause is often shown in a digital format.

Nowadays, the use of a hashtag allows people to use social media in order to show their solidarity, or disagreement, with a topic or thought. It creates a group mentality and means that people are able to group their thoughts and beliefs together by simply adding a hash sign before an agreed word. This can be used in relation to pretty much anything, but often is used in campaigns or protests. However, this has not always been the case, and prior to the Internet, other methods were used to identify groups.

Although the Guerra Sucia took place in Argentina over 40 years ago, every day new discoveries are being made about what truly happened during those years of political violence, especially thanks to the tireless campaigning of a group of Argentine women.

The picture accompanying this article shows street art above a children’s playground in Buenos Aires. Although at first it seems like ghosts, or abstract cartoon characters, it is in fact depicting the trademark white headscarves of La Asociación Madres de Plaza de Mayo (The Association of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo).

Street art covers the city: this piece has not been created at random, but has been put here to show that the Madres are protecting the children; watching over them; that they will not allow the atrocities of the ‘dirty war’ to be repeated. Wandering around the city, you can see this same design dotted around and it is even stencilled onto the pavement in the Plaza de Mayo.

The significance of a white headscarf in this context is that when the headscarves were first used it was because their protests began in a time when it was prohibited to meet in groups. Therefore members were able to identify one another by this item of clothing, but could not be arrested for protest, since it was not out of the ordinary. A white headscarf, something which most Argentine women owned already, was then transformed from a simple item of clothing into the symbol of their protest.

The white headscarf has served as a symbol, becoming a political icon due to the association with the cause and embodying the Madres political aims. It reflects the political action they have taken and the creativity used to show solidarity and further their cause in a way that meant they could not be arrested since they did not physically gather in a group but were able to identify one another through the white scarf, which has now become the symbol of their cause.

In the 21st Century, modern technology facilitates protests: live commentary appears on Twitter within minutes; Facebook statuses inform us of friends’ political views; YouTube videos go viral and make a global impact. Protests can be organised in a matter of minutes via social media, with hashtags allowing users to show their solidarity for a campaign. These women used what they had available and anyone who has visited, or lived, in Buenos Aires will be able to explain the meaning attached to these headscarves and the identity that they have now embodied. This demonstrates the impact something as simple as a piece of white cloth can have, a predecessor to the hashtag in identifying oneself as part of a movement, or the Guy Fawkes’ masks worn by Anonymous protesters in recent years. It demonstrates that using a symbol to signify group identity has been around for centuries, and leaves me to wonder what the Madres would use if they were to begin their movement today.

Unrest in Turkey: from ‘3 or 5 trees’ to ‘democracy’

June 5, 2013 by Strife Staff

By Gonenc Uysal

Recently, the Municipal Government of Istanbul decided to rebuild the Taksim Military Barracks (Topcu Kislasi) in Taksim as either a shopping mall or a hotel. This project involves building over much of Gezi Parki, in Taksim. However, Mayor of Istanbul Topbas and AKP (Justice and Development Party) officials including PM Erdogan denied any damage to trees, stating they would ‘dislocate and plant’ trees elsewhere. Protesters including young people, civil rights activists and environmentalists started to flock to the park after the beginning of demolition and construction on 29th May. When asked about the protest, Mayor Topbas declared PM Erdogan would make the final decision, but the latter refused to review the project.

This is not the first time this year that Taksim square has been at the centre of protests. On 1st May 2013 workers’ unions were denied the right to march into the square -arguing that potholes prevented a safe demonstration. Taksim holds vast symbolic importance in Turkey’s recent Republican history. On that occasion, police reacted with heavy-handed crowd control methods including gas rounds and water cannon, resulting in several wounded.

The present protests have seen unprecedented and disproportionate use of force by police –including burning down tents of civilian protesters, tear gas bombs, and water cannon. Undeterred and rallied through social media such as Twitter the number of protesters swelled to tens of thousands turning up on Saturday 31 May. Protests quickly spread to other big cities including Ankara, Izmir, Eskisehir, Adana, Antalya, Trabzon, Gaziantep and Balikesir, Hatay and Tunceli. Simultaneous protests were also organised in cities abroad such as London, Brussels, Berlin, Amsterdam, the USA such as New York, Chicago.

This protest, unlike many in Turkey’s politically fractious past, includes protesters from different sectors of society. There are elderly and young, men and women, secular and veiled, Turkish, Kurdish, or other ethnic, Muslim, non-Muslim, Sunnis, Alevis, leftists, rightists, Revolutionary Muslims, anarchists, Turkish and Kurdish nationalists, environmentalists, conservatives, non-party partisans, LBGT rights activists. Some, who would not descend to what are becoming street battles with 7ft high barricades of cobble stones, make noise with cooking pots in their balconies. Additionally, on Monday the KESK union federation (with 240,000 members) has begun a two-day strike in support of the protests, accusing the government of ‘state terror’, as has the Istanbul branch of EGITIM-SEN. The level of individuality, and claims of citizen’s rights in these protests is highlighted by criticism of the main opposition parties, CHP (Republican People’s Party) and MHP (Nationalist Movement Party) for their inability and unwillingness to provide a concerted opposition or take action in parliament. On the other side of the spectrum, protesters have been unable to appeal to wider working class concerns, which makes participation of working groups unlikely, unless the growing protest movement is able to speak to dire economic, social and political concerns of workers.

Although demands and concerns are far from coordinated and comprehensively supported, a brief summary of the main ones seems necessary. For further reference, see at the end of the article for a list of sources and websites to follow the demands and developments.

-the reversal of plans for Gezi Park;

-the reversal of the decision to demolish the historic Emek Sinemasi (cinema) in Istiklal, Beyoglu, and Ataturk Kultur Merkezi (Ataturk Cultural Centre) in Taksim, Beyoglu.

-revision of the Constitution by the AKP government –the AKP government launched an amendment to change the first three articles of the constitution (which define the fundamental principles of the Republic), and to introduce a presidential system;

-opposition to the government’s Syrian policy, which they contend is bringing instability to the South of the country -with instances such as Reyhanli;

-reversal of policies restricting alcohol consumption

-concern about state control of the media

-widespread arrest, imprisonment and trial of opposition military leaders, journalists and intellectuals, activists since 2007 –symbolised by detention in Silivri prison.

-concern about rapid privatisation programmes and the role of private firm in rural areas

-accusations of corruption at executive government and judicial level;

-recent changes in the education system promoted without consultation and despite educators’ concerns;

-concerns about mistreatment of minority entities like Kurds, Alevis and others (see for instance the Uludere incident). The naming of the proposed third bridge over the Bosphorus as ‘Yavuz Sultan Selim’ –Selim the First (responsible for a massacre of Alevi in the 16th century) has become a symbol of this issue

-concerns about domestic and public, physical and verbal violence against women and LBGT

-call for PM Erdogan to resign

-wider environmental concerns

Evidently, it is no longer the issue of the park that is drawing such disparate groups together; the protests have now escalated with a rising number of diverse and, so far, uncoordinated demands. The park, however, is still the only issue that commands broad consensus, with requests to cancel the demolition of the park and the construction of the Ottoman-style barracks, accountability over recent police excesses in Istanbul and the right to protest. As of the time of writing protests continue, with hundreds camping out in city centres. Disproportionate use of force police has continued, with one casualty confirmed as of Tuesday afternoon.

PM Erdogan has notoriously criticised Syrian President Assad for his use of force against opponents and ignoring democratic demands. On the other hand, Turkish protesters are not spoken of in the same light, instead being labelled by government sources and the PM as ‘marginal’, ‘plunderers’, ‘drunks’ and agents of the Republican Party out to destabilise the country. Furthermore, he highlights that his leadership is supported by the 50% of the country that voted for him in the last election. On 3rd June Erdogan left for a scheduled visit to Morocco and today 4th, the Deputy Prime Minister Arinc has declared that the original protests against the redevelopment of the park were ‘just and legitimate’ and offered talks with the protesters on the subject of the park. He offered a very qualified apology to protesters victims of police excesses adding ‘I do not think we need to apologise to those who create destruction of public property in the streets and who try to prevent the freedom of the people in the streets.’

Another major issue has been the role of the mainstream national and independent media including NTV and even CNNTurk (the Turkish franchisee of CNN) have not been covering the protests except for the reverberations events have had on stock market valuations. This silence, notoriously including cooking shows and documentaries about penguins being aired during the protests, has revealed the extent to which the government is able to control major state and independent media outlets, provoking protests against the media. Smaller outlets such as Halk TV, Ulusal Kanal and T24 have been reporting on the protests, as well as foreign media including the BBC, CNN, Reuters, Al Jazeera, AP, AFP and others.

Considering the partial abstention of mainstream media from the events, not unlike events in North Africa and the Middle East in the last two years, observers following events are left with snippets of information from social media and online depositories of photographs and video. The evidence so far points to widespread abuse by police forces including thousands of arbitrary arrests, beatings of protesters, excessive use of tear and other crowd dispersing gas agents, and serious injuries caused by the widespread use of rubber bullets, water cannon.

Amnesty in Turkey have published a report (3rd June) detailing round numbers for injured protestors on the basis of hospital data. In Istanbul, at least 1500 people received treatment during demonstrations. In Ankara, at least 424 people received treatment in hospitals; in Izmir, 420 people received treatment in last two days. Amnesty in Turkey calls for an immediate end to abusive use of force against demonstrators. It states that the use of tear gas and water cannons is not acceptable during peaceful demonstrations. It also calls for authorities to launch impartial and independent investigations into the policing of demonstrators. It also indicated that lessons should be for the future policing of demonstrations.

This is the biggest public protest since Cumhuriyet Mitingleri (Republic Protests) in 2007 against the candidacy of politicians from Milli Gorus –a predecessor of AKP. During these protests, many marched to ‘protect Republican values’ especially secularism. Although today’s protests include all Republicans, it goes beyond to include above-mentioned various groups.

It would not be accurate to describe these protests as a ‘Turkish Spring’. For a start, Turkey is already a democracy. On the contrary, I read the protests as a claiming its right to practice democracy beyond the ballot box and in protest form. A variety of dissatisfaction with the AKP government is certainly the key to these protests, and it is clear that the PM is unwilling to address or be seen to address this dissatisfactions, as many have read his persistence in continuing his scheduled trip to Morocco and the much-belated offer by Deputy PM Arinc to have a dialogue about the park.

Finally, I wish to highlight a crucial point that I feel is at the core of the non-park aspects of the protests: democracy is a right and principle that extends beyond the ballot box and includes freedom of expression and protest as well as demanding accountability from government. Peaceful protests, freedom of speech and government accountability are constitutional principles in Turkey; these protesters are actualising their claim to these rights.

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