Babam ve Oglum

Excerpts from Homeland, Nation, Cinema
by Hilmi Maktav
Translated by Kaan Nazli

The text was originally written in Turkish under the title “Vatan Millet Sinema” in Birikim, no. 207, Iletisim Yayinlari, July 2006, 71-83.

All footnotes are the addition of the translator.

The text was originally written in Turkish under the title “Vatan Millet Sinema” in Birikim, no. 207, Iletisim Yayinlari, July 2006, 71-83.

In Turkey, the mention of “historical movie” conjures up images of “Turks battling against their enemies.” As a genre “historical movies” are supposed to be based on historical events which reflect reality. Yet, the emergence of the cinematic artform coincided with the period of nation state formations providing the subject matter for films. Wars, heroic events, and national armies generated the most interest for filmmakers. In the early years of Turkish cinema, the failure of the industry [due to economic and political factors following the aftermath of World War I] hindered the development of the “historical movie” in both aesthetic and style. Instead, the genre reflected what can be called the “Malkoçoglu mood.”(1) Any average Turkish viewer over the age of 40 knows the comic book characters Malkoçoglu, Kara Murat(2), Battal Gazi(3), and Tarkan.(4) [These characters figure prominently in the genre of “historical movies” following a similar narrative: a series of quasi-historical events and heroic feats culminate in a Turkish victory against the warring Byzantines, Hungarians, or Chinese.] Beginning in the 1950s until the 1980s, bestselling novels of Abdullah Ziya Kozanoglu and Rahmi Muratoglu were adapted for the screen by directors from Aydin Arakon to Sami Ayanoglu, from Atif Yilmaz to Sureyya Duru, Nejat Saydam, and Natuk Bayhan. These stories/movies were not merely of the imagination. Instead, these works can be understood as representing a collective memory filtered through nationalist ideologies.

[There has been resurgence in popularity of the “historical movie” following the trend in postmodernist approaches to popular culture.] Although few viewers might get excited watching Kara Murat face the cruelties of Kazikli Voyvoda,(5) these “historical fantasies” have become cult films. It is ironic to say that these movies are merely a “fantasy” in Turkey, where national pride is displayed even at soccer games and national holidays. The degree of fantasy in the movies depends on the historical period covered. Folk stories, epics, myths, and folkloric elements provide the narrative, but the degree of fantasy in films lessens when the subject matter is that of the Turkish Republic. At that point, the “military heroes” battling Byzantines and Hungarians, transform to heroes of the “Turkish army” and thus representatives of the “nationalist spirit.”

(…)(6)

YOUNG MEN TO THE ARMY!
Military service is one of the central themes in Turkish cinema, and is rendered through melodrama. Yet recent films present the theme of military service as a comedy, including such films as O Simdi Asker (He's in the Army Now) (Mustafa Altioklar/2002) and Hababam Sinifi Askerde (Hababam Class in the Army)(7) (Ferdi Egilmez/2005). O Simdi Asker, which features popular actors and was well-promoted, narrates the story of a group of young men, who benefit from the “paid military service” law passed immediately after the Marmara earthquake in August 1999 to provide financial support to the [earthquake survivors in the] region. The cast of characters, all military recruits at the Çanakkale Fifth Private Training Brigade include a problematic father-son relationship, both of whom come from Australia; Nihat, an alcoholic who cuts off all ties with life after losing his family in the earthquake; a soon-to-be father who excitedly waits for the birth of his first child; a factory owner who leaves his factory that is on the verge of closure; Ömer, a worker who befriends the factory owner unaware of his real identity; a young man who has never managed to do his military service due to being overweight; a private who unsuccessfully attempted to go AWOL, has been in the army for six years, and thinks that wealthy individuals can forgo “paid” military service; a famous pop singer; a village agha from the Southeast; a hip-hop singer from Germany; and Volkan, a young, handsome and goodhearted captain despite his tough looks.

The students of the Hababam Class find themselves in the army when the school’s headmaster Crazy Bedri reports them to the local draft office for playing a practical joke. A merciless struggle ensues between the major, who wants to make these idle young men into good soldiers, and the Hababam Class. [In the movie], the setting is transposed from a school to an army barrack, the ward replaces the school dormitory, the school garden becomes the barracks, physical education classes are replaced with military training, and teachers with commanders. Throughout the film, the students continue their hilarious antics, soften the toughest commanders, organize evenings of music and poetry reading. At the end, the “students” awake realizing that the events were only part of a dream, or a nightmare.

Narrating the “sweet and sour aspects” of military service as a comedy, these movies are different from melodramas in that they portray a different side of the military. The [rigid] military atmosphere is softened with slapstick humor; violence is avoided and “human feelings” are explored. In O Simdi Asker, the director engages in social and political commentary. For example, when the young man of an Australian mother and Turkish father, visits the Anzac Cemetery(8) to commemorate his grandfather who died in Çanakkale, he says that “The world is changing, granddad. If I am the offspring of two warring nations, why did you kill each other years ago”? The film also provides a critique of the 1996 Kardak crisis when the Greek and Turkish armies were on the brink of war over ownership of a group of rocks in the Aegean Sea.(9) [In the movie], the rocks sink into the water with a Greek and Turkish soldier standing on them. The near drowning of the two men suggests the “meaninglessness of war.”

Hollywood films have attempted to “humanize” the [American] army by focusing on family melodrama, liberal ideas, and humor to cope with the loss of prestige during the Vietnam War. In response, [film scholars] Michael Ryan and Douglas Kellner write that “such [Hollywood] films can be praised in comparison to films like Rambo that exploit the army’s worst aspects – violence, discipline, intolerance, masculinity, etc.” 1980s films, such as Rambo which address a different “military culture…gains a conservative twist due to the historical moment and societal context they are situated in.” They continue by writing that “the liberal view accepts as a given the unavoidability of an institution like the army. What the liberals cannot see is the deep structural roots and systemic relationships that automatically link the army as an institution to patriarchic socialization patterns which are partly responsible for war.” (Ryan and Kellner, 1997: 319-320) Just like Hollywood’s “humanized military movies,” such as Stripes (1981), Private Benjamin (1980), and An Officer and a Gentleman (1982), the institution of the army is not opposed in Hababam Sinifi Askerde and O Simdi Asker. Instead, criticism is directed toward the rigidities of the institution and the directors suggest the idea of the need for a more “moderate army.”

In O Simdi Asker, the director suggests that a bunch of rocks can be a scene for “nationalist struggle.” Yet the army is still viewed as a necessary institution which provides resolution to familial [and personal] strife by providing a family unit. Each character leaves the army as a more mature, self-confident individual. For example, […] the father-son from Australia understand each other for the first time, and the young factory owner has a different perspective on life when he learns that one of the workers he let go is the father of his friend who takes care of him when he is ill. The famous pop singer learns about his girlfriend’s true character in the military and finds a new love. Nihat, who lost his family in the earthquake, once again holds on to life. The captain who sacrificed his love for his career settles his personal accounts. The strict military hierarchy that at first suppresses the protagonists is finally portrayed as an environment that fosters familial connections and removes class differences. [This is perhaps why] having received critical acclaim from film critics and viewers alike, the film has also received support from the army. The cast includes non-actors as officers and soldiers, and the Turkish Armed Forces (TAF) provided the military uniforms, equipment, and arms. The naughty students of the Hababam Sinifi, after waking up from the dream, become well-behaved. The happy ending takes place through a “father-son” and “student-teacher” rapprochement thereby underlining that the army succeeds in providing stability whereas families and schools do not. […]

The “military comedy” format that began with the TV series Saban Askerde (Saban in the Army) continuing with Emret Komutanim (Order, My Commander), are currently shown on Show TV. The series present privates engaged in online chats and hanging out with commanders’ daughters, encouraging everybody to join the army! Portraying humorous “military service anecdotes” well-known in Turkey has been part of the series success. The only thing that differentiates the script from other comedies is that the events occur in the military. These TV series do not portray the “real face” of war; rather they poke fun at “old-fashioned” military training without ever questioning the necessity of the army. Instead they present a “humanized army,” and normalize military service as being a part of life. [This portrayal] fits the TAF’s public relations endeavors in recent years. Emret Komutanim, according to one commentator, is an important part of Show TV’s lineup: “We [as a nation] forged our way fighting from Central Asia to Anatolia. Fighting is in our genes. We embrace everything about the military.” (Aytug, 2005) This statement suggests that military training does not damage the army but makes the army more likeable. The producers did not necessarily intend for Emret Komutanim to become a centerpiece of a discussion about the viability of the Turkish army. The series was directed to securing high ratings, incorporating military service anecdotes, and drawing upon “national Turkish qualities.” Nonetheless, the “hard-core nationalists,” who want to see the army presented seriously are furious with such humorous presentations. “Nobody has the right to compromise the integrity of the Turkish army (…) by making fun of it, taking it for granted, and weakening its existence,” writes Ömer Lütfi Turan in his column in the newspaper Ortadogu. “Long live Big Turkey, the heart of world Turkishness/Long live the Turkish army and security services/To hell with the Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) and its accomplices/ Happy is he who says, ‘I am a Turk’.”(Turan, 2006) Concerning the question of financing series such as Saban Askerde and Emret Komutanim, Turan concludes that the PKK must be linked to the “military service stories” (…) that are neither serious nor sufficiently nationalist. The “hard-core nationalists” desire is not the army becoming more likeable, but becoming sanctified. [They are concerned that] the jocular representation of military service would make the army seem ordinary. It would undermine the values of “martyrdom” associated with it, and would compromise the army’s superiority over other ideologies and institutions. The logic in tying a television series critique to the PKK is another version of paranoia about “internal and external” enemies – both set to denigrate the glorious Turkish Army! Just like censor boards that banned the color red from movies due to the fear of communism, this columnist condones anything that makes the army appear to be laughable, which would ultimately benefit the PKK.

THE UNTOUCHABLES
Numerous movies have succumbed to the grand renunciation and attention of the Regulation Board.(10) [In its charter], it clearly states that movies would be censored which “harmed the indivisible unity of the state (…), national sovereignty, (…), and general morals (…).” Overtime, the TAF strengthened its censorship of movies which did not exalt the military. From historical subject matters to melodramas, the censorship of films representing the army has sensitized directors to carefully circumvent any scrutiny of the March 12th, 1971, and September 12th, 1980 coups.(11) [In the 1970s and 1980s], it was unlikely that a film critical of the army or military would pass the TAF censor board. Films that portrayed security services engaged in undemocratic practices, such as killings, torture, and imposition of martial law were especially circumspect. These events, instead, were narrated [abstractly] as pain not stemming from any direct cause. During the September 12th coup, Kenan Evren turned the entire country into military barracks, and imprisoned directors and actors. [Once released], directors and actors did not talk about their experience or any injustice suffered. The words “army” or “coup” were never mentioned. Instead of directing criticism against the army, the experience was narrated as a personal story of a man coming to terms with his past. Even today, an average viewer born after 1970 has difficulty understanding the context of films produced during the coup years. (…) Films other than Y¦lmaz Güney’s Yol (The Road) (1982) showed the perpetrators of non-judicial executions and torture as bad policemen. The military regime was never mentioned. (…)

Unlike the event of March 12th, which has been forgotten, September 12th has received a “final settling of accounts” with the film Babam ve Oglum (My father and My Son) (Çagan Irmak/2005). The film narrates the return of a protagonist that has cut all ties with his father because he was part of the leftist movement before 1980. He returns to his home in order to support his son who became terminally ill while he was in prison. Audience members, both rightist and leftist, viewed this film as a “certificate of admonition.” Çagan Irmak, the director/scriptwriter who has received accolades from almost all well-known Turkish film critics has said that “I am more concerned about telling the story that happens in the movie,” and that he would not engage in politics. (…) What Çagan Irmak is not aware of, however, is that he is sending a message that “it is a huge mistake for people to break away from their families for the sake of societal ideals; real happiness can be found only and only in warm family homes.” In this respect, he is depoliticizing the audience; by placing family above ideologies, he is making a political statement of the strongest kind. “Babam ve Oglum is described as a summer evening movie, a film that is Mediterranean orange that conjures up dust, fireflies, [and] crickets. The child is in the courtyard of the farmhouse.” (Çelikcan, 2006: 13) The film realizes what the September 12th pashas desired, but twenty-five to thirty years later. A Turkey that has become completely depoliticized in the process! The army has done its job. From now on, the child wandering in the courtyard will not bring to mind images of tanks. Ironically, the only person to mention the word “coup” in the film is a young soldier. The director’s only challenge is to tell a beautiful story: “Some comedy, some grief”! This is exactly what remains from the most well-received movie about the September 12th coup without even naming the coup, or the junta leaders.

Turkish cinema has failed to come to terms with its past and experience of the military coups. That being said, perhaps it is still too early to say how the Kurdish question, which has left its stamp on Turkey over the last twenty to thirty years, will be resolved. (…) Is¦klar Sönmesin (Let There Be Light) (Reis Çelik/1996), tells the struggle between Seydo, a PKK militant, and Captain Murat, (…) an ideal soldier of the Turkish Army. Reis Çelik, the director, highlights common human qualities underlining the fact that both sides are dissatisfied with the struggle over identity politics. (…) However, the film is still not critical of the army, as it is reluctant to say anything that would make the army seem responsible for any of the mistakes committed in [Turkey’s] Southeast.(12) The film focuses on human interactions not a critique of state institutions. (…)

Yazi Tura (Ugur Yücel/2005) tells the stories of two veteran soldiers from the Southeast, “Ridvan the Devil,” soccer player from Göreme, and “Cevher the Ghost,” who lives with his father in Istanbul. They end their military service, but not unscathed. Ridvan loses his right leg and dreams of becoming a soccer star, while Cevher loses his hearing in his right ear. Shortly after returning home, they have a difficult time adjusting to the life that they had left. (…) [Ridvan] keeps talking about how he killed PKK militants, how he lost his leg in the clashes, but is unable to convince anybody of his ordeal. (…) Meanwhile, Cevher, who is living in Istanbul’s Halkali, works for the mafia and [threatens to] “cut ears” off of those who don’t settle their accounts. He also shouts to the policeman who arrests him after he murders the person attempting to kill his homosexual brother, “I am a veteran”!

Yazi Tura has received criticism at numerous levels - from covering up many themes, to the lack of connection between the two friend’s respective lives after serving in the army. Criticism was also directed to the use of overly melodramatic clichés and the introduction of Cevher’s homosexual brother to the story [with no prior context] (…). The film abandons the [issue of the] southeast altogether after the first half of the movie. (…) Ugur Yücel never allows his protagonists to question what has happened [in the southeast]. Yet despite all this, the film is a first in Turkish cinematic history. It concludes that not all Turkish soldiers emerge from wars as heroes. Instead, two Mehmetçiks,(13) one committing suicide and another landing in prison replace the military heroes of the past. (…)

The last hero is Polat Alemdar in Kurtlar Vadisi Irak (Valley of the Wolves Iraq) (Serdar Akar/2006). Polat goes to Iraq with two men to fight American troops and seek revenge for the hurt pride of his commander, who commits suicide after failing to stand up for his soldiers after American troops insulted them. (…) This protagonist is no longer a soldier; he is a member of the “deep state” who takes on the duty of protecting the pride of “the Turkish soldier whose hands are tied (…) because of diplomatic balances and political calculations.” With his uncompromising nationalism in Kurtlar Vadisi Irak (Valley of the Wolves Iraq), Polat Alemdar succeeds where the army fails.

No doubt the relationship between the army and the film industry will become more systematic in coming years. (…) Perhaps the Turkish army does not need to set up military recruitment desks in front of the movie theaters since military service is mandatory in Turkey (…). But the military does need support. It needs to show that the army is a dynamic institution, and that it can meet the new needs of a globalizing world. (…) To protect its “aura” will not only rely on “serious historical movies,” but also popular films in order to attract young men into its ranks. Expect to see more Turks as soldiers in movies and television series with modern clothes and a sense of humor, characters that do not differ from an American soldier. (…) Hard-core nationalists, in the meantime, will support films and television series underlining the strength of the army. (…) Yet film audiences have also been exposed to two different types of military veterans, Ridvan the Devil and Cevher the Ghost. [Both characters are outside the boundaries of the “likeable” or “sanctified” army codes as suggested above.] We know how difficult it is to say that “nothing will ever be the same again” in a country after the Susurluk incident.(14) [Yet, having seen Yazi Tura] perhaps we can look forward to movies which will take a critical stance towards the military in the future.

Dr. Hilmi Maktav is a contributor to Birikim and writes extensively on film.

Kaan Nazli is a coordinator at the Moon and Stars Project. Kaan Nazli is also a director for emerging markets at Medley Global Advisors, a policy research and advisory firm, and has written in the past for the Financial Times, National Interest, Caspian Investor, Russia/Eurasia Executive Guide, Turkish Policy Quarterly and EurasiaNet. Currently a Ph.D. candidate in Government/Russian and Eurasian Studies at Georgetown University, he holds an MA in Political Economy from New York University.

Sources:

• Alt¦nay, Ay_e Gül. “E_itimin Militarizasyonu: Zorunlu Milli Güvenlik Dersi.” in Turkiye'de Ordu, edited by Ahmet _nsel and Ali Bayramo_lu. Istanbul: Birikim Yay¦nlar¦, 2004.
• Aytu_, Yüksel. “Askerlik Genlerimizde.” In Vatan, 17 Kas¦m 2005.
  Bakthin, Mikhail. Karnavaldan Romana, edited by Sibel Irz¦k, translated by Cem Soydemir. Istanbul: Ayr¦nt¦ Yay¦nlar¦, 2001.
• Çelikcan, Aynur. “Ça_an Irmak’la ‘Babam ve O_lum’ Hakk¦nda Her _ey.” In TRT Radyo Televizyon Dergisi, no. 205, Haziran 2006.
• Evren, Burçak. Sigmund Weinberg. Istanbul: Milliyet Yay¦nlar¦, 1995.
• Özgüç, Agah. Türk Filmleri Sözlü_ü. Istanbul: Sesam Yay¦nlar¦, 1998.
• Robb, David L, Hollywood Operasyonlar¦, translated by Sinan Okan. Istanbul: Güncel Yay¦nc¦l¦k, 2005.
• Ryan, Michael ve Kellner, Douglas. Politik Kamera, translated by Elif Özsayar. Istanbul: Ayr¦nt¦ Yay¦nlar¦, 1997.
• Scognamillo, Giovanni. Türk Sinema Tarihi. Istanbul: Metis Yay¦nlar¦, 1987.
• Scognamillo, Giovanni. Türk Sinemas¦nda 6 Yönetmen. Istanbul: Türk Film Ar_ivi Yay¦n¦, 1973.
• _en, Serdar. Silahl¦ Kuvvetler ve Modernizm. Istanbul: Sarmal Yay¦nevi, 1996.
• Turan, Ömer Lütfi. “Türünün ikincisi.” In Ortado_u, 1 Ocak 2006.
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1. Malkoço_lu is a comic book character, a young man from the family Malkoço_ullar¦ that allegedly lived in the 16th century and served in the assault forces of the Ottoman Empire.
2. A comic book character and loyal fighter of Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror set in the 15th century.
3. Battal Gazi (Veteran Battal) is a folk character that lived in the 8th century in Anatolia. It is unclear whether he is of Turkic, Arab, or Anatolian origins. The “Battal Gazi Legend” cites him as the leader of the Arab forces in their attempt to take over Constantinople (modern day Istanbul) in 717-718 CE.
4. Tarkan is a comic book character created by Turkish illustrator Sezgin Burak in 1967. Unlike the other comic book characters, Tarkan is not placed in any particular historical period.
5. Kaz¦kl¦ Voyvoda (Voyvoda Tepe_ in Romanian), translated literally as “Prince Impaler,” is the Turkish historical reference to Romanian Prince Vlad III, who ruled as prince of Wallachia in the 15th century, and is commonly referred to as Vlad Dracula or Prince Vlad the Impaler. According to Ottoman historians, he was notorious for impaling captured Ottoman soldiers. He also served as inspiration for Bram Stoker’s horror novel Dracula (1897).
6. Please refer to the official website of Birikim at http://www.birikimdergisi.com for a full version of the article in Turkish.
7. “Hababam Sinifi,” translated in some works as “The Dunce Class,” is a series of comedies based on Rifat Ilgaz’s novel Hababam Sinif¦. The stories center upon a group of naughty high school students who never graduate due to their own laziness.
8. Anzac is an abbreviation for Australian and New Zealander soldiers who fought on behalf of the British forces against the Turkish army during the Çanakkale War of World War I. The cemetery is located in the western region of Turkey.
9. Kardak, or Imia in Greek, is a name for a group of rocks in the Aegean Sea, 7 km west of the Turkish town of Mu_la. The dispute began when a Turkish ship accidentally hit the rocks.
10. The ‘Regulation Board’ refers to a censorship board under the auspices of the state broadcaster Turkey Radio Television (TRT). It is responsible for ‘regulating’ all broadcasting. The board was dismantled in 1993 when the government set up the Radio Television High Council (RTUK) that would not only be responsible for state television but also private channels.
11. The coup of March 12th is the second military coup in Turkey’s history when the Turkish army forced then-Prime Minister Süleyman Demirel’s government to step down with a harsh public announcement, thus opening the way for a caretaker government to take over. The Turkish Armed Forces intervened for a third time on September 12th, 1980, closing down all political parties and arresting thousands of right-wing and left-wing militants involved in violent clashes which had dominated much of the late 1970s. The military regime again ousted the government of Süleyman Demirel who had been in power for two years.
12. The author refers to widespread human rights violations during the 1990s, when the fight against the PKK was at its peak.
13. Mehmetçik translates as “little Mehmet,” a common public term to describe young Turkish soldiers.
14. The Susurluk incident refers to a 1996 car accident in the western Turkish town of Susurluk, where a member of parliament and a police chief were traveling in the same car with a nationalist criminal gang leader under an arrest warrant. The incident revealed the relationship between politicians, security services, and organized crime. The whitewashing of the incident on the part of successive governments was met with criticism and disappointment by progressive groups.