Turkish facing east is about the importance of Turkey’s relations with its Eastern neighbours – Azerbaijan, Armenia and the Soviet Union - during the emergence of the modern Turkish nation-state from the ruins of the Ottoman Empire. The originality of Turkey facing east lies in part in its theoretically informed analysis of history exploring the causal links between the construction of a modern nation-state, secular identity and nationalised foreign policy during the transition from an Islamic Empire to a modern state. The role of the Islamic legacy, territorial unity and national identity construction are re-examined in order to understand the complexity of a long historical and sociological process. Hence, the principal strength of this book is that not only it combines historical and theoretical arguments in order to provide a better understanding of the foreign relations of a Muslim country from a critical and interdisciplinary perspective but also applies the new approach to the analysis of Turkish foreign policy towards the South Caucasus between 1918 and 1921. Turkey facing east stands out with its original interdisciplinary approach to the critical analysis of Turkish transition and foreign policy making that offers perspectives on the extant possibilities for the particular transitional states resulting from the Arab spring uprisings.
The ‘Turkish question’ is historically related to the possibility of establishing an Islamist, socialist or nationalist state. This chapter emphasises the importance of another frequently neglected international event, the Baku Congress of 1920, which was as the First Congress of the Peoples of the East. It explores the extent to which the ideologies of Islamism, communism and nationalism were in competition when deciding the future of the Turkish state. In particular, it explains why the nationalist group was not the only potential ally of the Bolsheviks and why the Baku Congress became the first important international platform to discuss the Turkish question among the other issues of the Eastern peoples. It concludes by highlighting the leadership rivalry among the pan-Islamist Enver Pasha, Communist Mustafa Suphi and nationalism Mustafa Kemal to establish their authority in both domestic and foreign affairs.
Chapter 2 explains why the study of modernity is chosen as the second pillar. In particular, the relationship between foreign policy and modernity is explored in order to understand the process of transition from an Islamic entity to a modern nation-state. The empirical concern of the chapter is to explain the essence of the Turkish modernisation: Turkey’s integration into Western international system was long duré that illustrates how the civilizational and normative aspects of European modernity can be compatible with Islam rather than a clash of competing Muslim and Western civilizations. It draws a particular attention to the alternative interpretations of modernity as multiple modernities and their implications for Turkish politics.
During April and May of 1989, Beijing was the site of an extraordinary series of demonstrations and political actions that came to be known as ‘the Beijing Spring’. Protesters, which included students, called for democracy, freedom, dialogue with the government, the accountability of authorities and an end to corruption. This chapter explores how the principal categories of the Lockean narrative can shape the context for the understanding of and response to political injury. In the case of much of the Western response to the Tiananmen Square massacre of 1989, the conceptualisation of man and the state is particularly important, as is the related articulation of the realms of ethics and politics. The chapter questions the adequacy of the terms of the debate between citizenship rights and human rights. After noting the sharp emergence of human rights onto the agenda of dealings between China and the West following the Tiananmen killings, the chapter looks at the terms in which the story of the massacre was presented in much Western commentary of the time.
This book has explored the promotion of human rights practices and approaches in international life. It has argued for a shift in approach—a greater preparedness to reflect on some of the categories by which we construct our sense of human rights and some acknowledgment of the limits of our understanding, or even of our ignorance, of the complex life to which these categories, particularly that of the human, refer. This way of conceptualising human rights has provided a remarkably powerful framework for the characterisation of both the individual and political community and for the identification of abuse. Moreover, it has to a significant extent shaped the terms in which general debate over human rights in international politics has been repeatedly cast, particularly the polarity of universalism and relativism, of the ‘rights of man’ and the citizen's rights, and of political and economic (or social or cultural) rights. Human rights practices are not part of a progression to perfection, or its approximation, but a way of working with the systemic generation of suffering.
In his work on human rights in international relations, R. J. Vincent states that ‘human rights’ is a readily used term that has become a ‘staple of world politics’. This chapter examines some of the orders of thought that dominate human rights promotion and shape the meaning of this powerful, complex and in some ways contradictory tool of rights and ‘rights talk’. First, it considers the polarity of universalism and relativism that structures much of what it is possible to say on human rights. Second, it looks at the story of the Lockean social contract, as one still potent myth of the origin for human rights and more broadly as a mechanism for conceptualising the human political community and ethics in the liberal state. The chapter questions the adequacy of these constructions for responding to the complexity of systemic infliction of injury. It then looks at the dominant theoretical accounts of international politics that have formed a central platform for the debate and, to some extent, for practice regarding rights in the international arena.
East Timor was forcibly incorporated into Indonesia in 1975 and managed to become independent almost twenty-five years later. Now the territory, poised on the edge of statehood, is undergoing transition, but also flux and confusion. At the time of writing, the United Nations Transitional Authority for East Timor (UNTAET) is effectively the Government of East Timor, with elections for a constituent assembly to determine a constitution expected in August 2001. This chapter examines the immediate background to Indonesia's violent process of incorporation and the pattern of abuse that characterised it. To emphasise human rights promotion as grounded in exchange with the actual patterns of social practice involved casts a different light on the apparent self-evidence of that polarisation, as the story of East Timor suggests. Effective self-determination and effective international understanding of and response to East Timor's evolving circumstances may be anything but simple. Answers to questions around how to build a reasonably peaceful political order that East Timor's circumstances pose for its own population and leadership, and for others, may be fundamental to how we understand political community.
This book argues for greater openness in the ways we approach human rights and international rights promotion, and in so doing brings some new understanding to old debates. Starting with the realities of abuse rather than the liberal architecture of rights, it casts human rights as a language for probing the political dimensions of suffering. Seen in this context, the predominant Western models of right generate a substantial but also problematic and not always emancipatory array of practices. These models are far from answering the questions about the nature of political community that are raised by the systemic infliction of suffering. Rather than a simple message from ‘us’ to ‘them’, then, rights promotion is a long and difficult conversation about the relationship between political organisations and suffering. Three case studies are explored: the Tiananmen Square massacre, East Timor's violent modern history and the circumstances of indigenous Australians. The purpose of these discussions is not to elaborate on a new theory of rights, but to work towards rights practices that are more responsive to the spectrum of injury that we inflict and endure.
This book's argument takes as its point of departure the question of how to promote human rights observance in international life. The whole complex business of international human rights promotion is not approached here as a particularly ‘innocent’ enterprise. The argument here proceeds from the understanding, or the presumption, that questions of human rights are also part of the much broader context of people's repeated efforts to work against the systemic infliction of suffering in political life and to create conditions of life that do not turn upon the generation of such suffering. Within international politics, and according to the Westphalian order, a distinction, indeed a complex opposition, is commonly drawn between the proper domain of politics and that of ethics, with human rights standardly classed with ethics. This book explores three case studies: the Tiananmen Square massacre of 1989, East Timor's violent modern history, and the health of Australian Aborigines.