For instance, Turkey’s proximity to Georgia reveals significant cultural links in areas like the Eastern Black Sea and Northeastern Anatolia. However, the connection might differ for someone from Artvin compared to Muğla. Similarly, while Hatay might share cultural ties with Syria, the same might not hold true for Tekirdağ.
Another example is Bosnia and Herzegovina, influenced by the Ottoman Empire, reflecting similarities in markets, fountains, lodges, and caravanserais. However, fundamentally, it remains a Slavic country with differing histories and cultures. Language, ethnicity, and geography distinguish it from us.
Turkic nations also exemplify this distinction. Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, united under the Turkic identity, display resemblances and variances upon arrival in Astana or Bishkek, from language to street layout. Despite sharing folklore and cultural roots, it’s evident that although they’re siblings, the shades of their Turkic identity differ. Uzbekistan might feel closer, but the contrast between similarities and differences prevails.
However, Azerbaijan stands out from these examples. Upon hearing the language at the airport, you might feel transported to an alternate Eastern Anatolia. The ambiance, from cap-wearing elders on the streets, the artistry of ashiks, the distinct muğam music reminiscent of epics, to the culinary delights in restaurants, resonates so deeply with Turkey that you might not sense you’re in a different country. While some similarities might be found in Greece, Armenia, Iran, or Serbia, this leads to a critical issue.
Cultural resemblances alone might not hold significant meaning. Yet, when they’re coupled with language and ethnosymbols, they carry weight. The variation of Eastern Anatolian Turkish spoken at the airport speaks volumes. Similarly, ethnosymbols convey the same message. While Western or Iranian-rooted Azeri identities existed in the Soviet era, the majority identified as Turks. Textbooks mentioned the “Turkish language,” and schools were named “Turkish Girls’ School.” In recent years, this truth has deeply ingrained itself in society. Azerbaijan presents itself as a society speaking Turkish, identifying as Turkish, possessing a culture that doesn’t seem alien but rather feels like an extension of Turkey’s borders.
One might wonder: “With such a strong Turkic identity, why aren’t we a single community from Lipka Tatars in Lithuania to Dolgans on the Arctic shores?” Turkic identity, in its broadest sense, represents a meta-ethnicity, encompassing divergent societies sharing linguistic and ethnogenetic roots. This large family is grouped into clusters. A Kazakh is closer to a Kyrgyz or a Bashkir, forming intersecting points within this “single community.” Uzbeks and Uyghurs form one group, while Hakas and North Altaians constitute another. Similarly, Turkey and Azerbaijan share this bond within the broader Turkic identity.
Anatolia, Azerbaijan, Rumelia, Ahıska, Cyprus, the Middle East (Turkmeneli), Borçalı, Derbent, and South Azerbaijan should all fall under the Turkic identity definition. The disparate naming despite strong linguistic ties, cultural connections, geographical proximity, and shared ethnogenetic origins seems unreasonable. During the Soviet era, while other Turkic peoples were identified by specific names, both Turkey and Azerbaijan were collectively known as “Turk.” Personally, I’d prefer not to expand Turkic identity from Anatolia and restrict it between the Caspian and Mediterranean. Alternative names like Seljuk/Seljuki, Western Oghuz, Turkmen[1], or even something different remain open for discussion.
This distinction between closeness and distance holds true for understanding Erdogan and Israeli perception in both Turkey and Azerbaijan, encapsulating complex layers beyond mere geographical or cultural affinity.
“We’re Close Yet Distant: Understanding Erdogan and Israel in Azerbaijan’s Context
The perception of Erdogan in Azerbaijan stems from a blend of loyalty and Turkish identity.
Recent months saw two distinct waves of backlash on Azerbaijani matters in Turkish social media. First, allegations surfaced that Erdogan’s Cumhur Alliance in the second round, was supported and influenced by Aliyev. Images of jubilant crowds celebrating Erdogan’s victory in Azerbaijan added fuel to this backlash. The primary source of this criticism was the secular, dissenting factions within Turkey. The second wave of criticism emerged from conservative and Islamic circles. This was triggered by Azerbaijan’s overall warm relations with Israel and pro-Israel comments circulating on Azerbaijani social media. It might appear strange that Azerbaijan faced social media attacks from both secular and Islamic groups within a short span.
What’s particularly intriguing is the coexistence of a populace that fervently supports Erdogan while harboring sympathy for Israel. This unique duality isn’t found elsewhere globally. Western populations sympathetic to Israel, who also track Turkish politics to some extent, criticize Erdogan (and Turkey in general) vehemently while Hindu nationalists, staunch supporters of Israel, oppose Erdogan while backing Turkey and Azerbaijan’s adversaries, particularly Pakistan, which idolizes Erdogan. Consequently, Azerbaijan represents a peculiar intersection in every aspect.
Let’s delve into Erdogan first. The affection for Erdogan among the Azerbaijani public differs from the admiration he garners in Maghreb countries, the Middle East, Pakistan, or even among Muslims in the Indian subcontinent. These groups envision and adore Erdogan as a figure who will usher in Sharia law, establish the caliphate. There were even social media videos from Pakistan encouraging migration to Turkey through the Iran border, emphasizing the future establishment of the caliphate there and urging Pakistani Muslims to relocate.
In short, the role these segments of Middle Eastern and South Asian Muslims attribute to Erdogan resembles the imagery of Khomeini or Nasrallah in the Shiite world. However, in Azerbaijan, it’s not tied to Islam but rather an Erdogan admiration rooted in Turkish identity. It’s not uncommon, to be honest, to find uncles enjoying a conversation with vodka at their tables in Azerbaijan fervently defending Erdogan at the same time. Their affection for Erdogan is irrespective of religion; they see him as someone who supported Azerbaijan’s liberation of Karabakh, stood against Iran in Baku while reading the poem
‘They separated Araz, filled it with sand, I wouldn’t have separated from you, they did it forcibly,’ supported South Azerbaijan, and founded the Turkic Council. Furthermore, through my wife’s research, when I met the Udins, Azerbaijan’s indigenous Christian population, I was astonished to witness their strong affinity for Erdogan. They eagerly watched Teknofest in rooms adorned with crosses and images of Jesus, with an Orthodox Christian Udin aunt finding Emine Erdogan more composed than Mehriban Aliyeva. Hence, alongside Turkism, there’s a general empathy for Azerbaijanis regardless of religion and ethnicity.
Erdogan, who maintained trade relations with Israel and, in 2011 in Egypt, extolled the virtues of secularism, is far from the Turkic leader that our brethren in Azerbaijan envision. He crushed Turkish nationalists during the period of political opening, was the prime minister when Azerbaijani flags were discarded, and is currently inundating Turkey with millions of refugees. However, both of these issues are more about perception than reality.
Additionally, as I mentioned earlier on social media, examples like Kılıçdaroğlu, who used a derogatory and unacceptable phrase in a meeting with truck drivers, and Ünal Çeviköz, who reiterated claims about the Free Syrian Army fighting in Karabakh, inadvertently gave ammunition to the Armenian diaspora against Azerbaijan. The country’s main opposition party didn’t maintain a friendly stance toward Azerbaijan, further stoking antipathy for the aforementioned reasons.
The GOOD Party could have played a reconciliatory role in this matter, but we all witnessed how the GOOD Party was passively marginalized during the 3-6 March period. Moreover, as the aim of the Sextet Table was to make the liberal-conservative DEVA and Future the primary actors instead of the nationalist GOOD Party, there was no place for such a nationalist balancing element in the opposition. Therefore, instead of brushing off the admiration for Erdogan in Azerbaijan with disdain, I believe it’s better to attempt to understand its underlying reasons. Moreover, the difference should not be overlooked; they don’t adore Erdogan as a means to transform Turkey but rather hold affection for him based on Turkish identity. This distinction should be duly acknowledged.”
The phrase “The enemy of my enemy is my friend” finds an example in the relationship between Azerbaijan and Israel.
Previously, we delved into how Erdogan’s recitation of a poem about the Aras River deeply resonated within Azerbaijan. The Aras River carries immense significance in Azerbaijani literature, symbolizing longing and division between the country’s south and north. This division has elicited a sense of sorrow, depicted in poetry and phrases recited by artists and poets, portraying external forces influencing the Aras’s fate with water, blood, and sands.
The yearning for the unity of South and North Azerbaijan stands at the core of Azerbaijani Turkism. This sentiment has contributed to the roots of nationalism in Azerbaijan and fostered an anti-Iran sentiment, where Shiism plays a notable role. Unlike Sunnism, Shiism’s rigid clerical structure poses challenges to envisioning a non-Iran-influenced Ja’fari Islam. Despite most Azerbaijanis being Shia, scattered Sunni Turkish populations exist, especially in regions like Karabakh. To maintain national unity and independence from Iran’s influence, Azerbaijani intellectuals advocate for an Islamic understanding transcending Shiism and Sunnism.
Several influential figures in Azerbaijani history have emphasized a unified Islamic understanding, transcending sectarian divisions. Mirza Elekber Sabir, for instance, despite his Sunni and Shia background, asserted his pure Turkish identity. Similarly, Seyyid Mir Hamza Nigari advocated for a unified Islamic sentiment despite his Sufi background.
In contrast to other Turkic nationalist movements, Azerbaijani nationalism often showcases a more reserved attitude towards religion. This tendency, partially a response to Iran’s influence and devoid of Soviet influence, contrasts with the more religion-centered nationalist perceptions in Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan.
Azerbaijan’s national identity has been shaped by its struggle against Iran’s attempts to assimilate Azerbaijani Turks, making the country view Israel, Iran’s adversary, with a degree of sympathy. The history of Armenian-Jewish rivalry contrasts with examples of cooperation between Azerbaijani Jews and Muslims for Azerbaijani independence. The Armenian-Jewish rivalry, evident in the massacres carried out by the Dashnaks in Azerbaijan at the beginning of the 20th century, where Jews were killed alongside Turks-Muslims. There are examples like Azeri Jews such as Mirza ‘Hazar’ Mikailov, who made efforts for Azerbaijan’s independence, and another Jew, Albert Agarunov, who volunteered and was martyred in Karabakh. Today, Azerbaijan, with the Jewish village of Qırmızı Qəsəbə in the Quba region, stands as one of the three countries globally, following the United States and Israel, with mass Jewish settlements in the form of villages and towns. This positions Azerbaijan uniquely within the world of Judaism.”
Despite efforts for unity, Azerbaijan has its unique social history and geopolitics. While secular dissenters may be critical of Erdogan due to demographic changes or past events, conservative nationalists may express discontent with Israel, influenced by geopolitical factors like Israel’s actions in the Eastern Mediterranean and its stance on Jerusalem.
Recent events in Karabakh and opposition in Turkey toward Azerbaijan make Erdogan’s popularity in Azerbaijan understandable. Additionally, Israel’s arms supply to Azerbaijan has further solidified ties between the two countries. Also (unfortunately), while there is an anti-Turkey sentiment particularly among Turkish Jews, which started through publications like Avlaremoz, Azerbaijani Jews globally advocate for Azerbaijan. Consequently, our relationship with the Jewish lobby has been notably different from Azerbaijan’s, at least in the last 10-20 years.
We’ve diagnosed the issue; now, let’s move to the prescription. If a secular dissenter is uncomfortable with Erdogan’s popularity in Azerbaijan, their action shouldn’t involve insulting Azerbaijani Turks. Instead, it should be about supporting a movement that can take opposition away from the hands of the CHP or attempting to make the opposition more positive about Azerbaijan. Similarly, if a conservative person is uncomfortable with Azerbaijan’s alignment with Israel, hurting Azerbaijani Turks won’t change that. Highlighting that Turkish people can reach out to South Azerbaijan and showing more support for Azerbaijan regarding Iran could be a way forward. Because if this happens, Azerbaijan’s reliance on Israel diminishes. In essence, the duty of both secular nationalist dissenters and conservative nationalists within the Turkish-Islamic line is to try and bridge the differences between us and Azerbaijan in these matters, not further deepen the divide.
Denizcan Dede
Translated from fikirtepemedya.com
