The plan for today was to go to a local coffee shop by the Bosphorus strait and place Turkey’s political climate into a more recent context. The last time we discussed Turkish politics/history we were still in the Ottoman Empire. So, the biggest part of the lecture would cover Ataturk. We left the hotel around 10 am and got to a quaint little coffee shop. The discussion/class was going great. We were able to fill all the little crevices in our knowledge with bridges of information and it was at this time that I decided I’d really like to talk about freedom of speech/press in Turkey for my research paper.
We talked until noon and then we started discussing what Istanbul sites might be helpful to gather the last bit of information for our topic. I voiced my idea about talking to the local press and my professor jumped on it. She said she had a connection at a Turkish TV station. We talked back and forth about background reading until both the professor and I were pumped about the topic. At this point, she called her contact.
I sat there with a huge goofy smile as she spoke with her contact in Turkish. Having no idea what she was saying I began making up my own dialogue. I was halfway through scripting how impressed this acquaintance would be with my knowledge of Turkish politics when she placed her hand over the mouthpiece to tell us we would be headed to the news station in 30 minutes. My first thought was this is all happening way too fast. I need to practice the 10 Turkish words I know. How can I work in counting to five in conversation? Wait, I need to read more about the Turkish media. Who is he? What is this news station? I need to brush my teeth.
Our professor sent us a PDF concerning the recent controversy about censorship as we left the coffee shop. Thoughts whizzed through my head as we grabbed food and hopped in the van. I plopped on the bench seat and scrolled through the 86-page PDF looking for the executive summary. I managed to read through the preface and summary pulling my head away from the monitor every now and again to ask questions. “Was the investigation of Ergenekon intended to be like the truth commissions in South Africa? How do you pronounce Doğan Group? For whom does Gareth Jenkins report?”
I managed to write down five or six question by the time we got to the hotel. We ran to our rooms, changed clothes, and jumped back in the van. I was practicing pronouncing Ergenekon and Doğan as we pulled up to the studio. I knew I was being very bold by thinking I might be able to bring up these issues, but in the end if it came down to having to ask lame questions about what it’s like to be a reporter in Turkey I can bullshit without practice.
The huge window ridden buildings were as intimidating as American media conglomerates. Apparently, the business world’s desire to see its reflection extends past America. Three or four guards and an x-ray machine guarded the main entrance. In addition, every door we passed through required sliding a plastic card over a sensor: much like an electronic hotel key.
We opened the door to the ATV newsroom and were greeted by our professor’s acquaintance. He motioned for us to follow him. As we turned the corner to the open room I immediately felt at home: rows of computer monitors accompanied by rolling chairs and stress-ridden journalists filled the floor. TVs were mounted in every corner of the ceiling. Buffalo Wild Wings doesn’t have shit on this place.
We followed our new acquaintance to his desk where he made a few phone calls. He told us we would be speaking to Daphne (a well-known ATV national television reporter). We chatted for a bit while we waited. He left for a moment and returned saying that the Executive Editor of ATV Television was in his office at the moment and was willing to talk with us. Our professor turned to me and asked, “Would you be interested in speaking with him?” I shrugged, “Sure, I guess. Executive Editor of a Turkish news station, I guess we can spare a moment for him. NBD”
We followed in wide-eyed bewilderment as our professor led us to his office. Through his glass wall, we could see him on the phone. As we waited for him to set down the receiver, I leaned over to our professor and asked, “Is this network part of the Doğan group? I didn’t have time to look it up on the way here.” She told me to ask her friend. I leaned over to him and repeated my question. He shook his head and said no several times as he motioned for us to walk in the Executive Editor’s office. There were only four chairs sitting in front of his desk; we waited to sit until more were pulled in from the newsroom. Our acquaintance placed a chair behind me and whispered into my ear, “We are a network that supports the state. We are in opposition to Doğan Group.”
I sat down and attempted to process this information as we made introductions. My first thought was crap, crap, crap don’t say anything offensive.
It became obvious our interviewee did not speak English. He dismissed this fact by saying he’s and old school journalist. As a result, our professor had to interpret for us. I wondered if I should be looking at him as she talked, as is the custom when a professional interpreter is used. However, he seemed to be talking to her. So, I followed suit: looking back-and-forth between her and him as they spoke. After she briefly explained what we are doing in Turkey, she asked us if we had any questions of him. Everyone looked straight at me. Apparently, this was my moment to shine.
I wanted to pull out my laptop, but I also wanted to get candid information. As a result, I decided to be as active in the conversation as I could without speaking the language. I’m not sure which question I asked first, but I’ll regurgitate what I do remember:
I said that in America, we desire our media to be transparent (of course our desires are rarely met). Then, I asked where his media organization fell in accordance with objectivity. I was surprised by how candid he was. He said his organization was right of center (they are pro-government/pro-AK party). He went on to say that he believes there is one truth, but that you have to read several papers to get to the truth. He pointed to the stack of newspapers on his desk. Along with the eight or so TV monitors mounted on the walls of his office I gathered that the truth is a hard animal to catch.
I said that the West has applauded Al Jazeera on their coverage and involvement in the uprising in Egypt. Then, I asked him whether he believed the media in Turkey was taking part in social change or if they were merely reporting on the change as it took place. First, he said that the Turkish media also applauds Al Jazeera in their coverage of the ongoing Middle Eastern revolutions. Then, he said that Turkish media also plays a large part in social change. Their part in the recent elections has been very important. They hold debates and discuss opinions, just as American media does during presidential elections.
He said freedom of press is written into the Turkish constitution and plays a valuable part of the process. However, when one party has a lot of control it is natural that the press becomes more sensitive to the majority party. He went on to say that the Western world is quick to point fingers at Turkey for its supposed lack of freedom of the press, but – in reality – the press in Turkey is not a backward institution.
Before leaving his office, I was given the opportunity to ask one more question. I asked what he thought about Western media’s coverage of the elections. He said he believed it was pretty accurate with the exception of a few pieces by the Economist. He said he felt these pieces were VERY bias and lacked integrity. As a subscriber to the Economist, I left his office holding my tongue.