The Fading Legacy of Minority Journalism in Turkey

Minority-run newspapers serve as Turkey’s oldest print media, but have been on a downward trajectory ever since the founding of the republic. Before Turkey was established one out of six people of its 18 million population was non-Muslim. In 2023, this number accounts for one percent of the population. The decline of minority journalism is a direct casualty of the demise of minority communities under the Turkish regime.

“In the Istanbul of 1908 there were more multi-language publications circulated than in current cosmopolitan cities, such as London and New York,” says Ara Koçunyan, the editor-in-chief of Jamanak newspaper. Koçunyan is the fourth-generation family member at the helm of the world’s longest continuous running Armenian language daily newspaper. Today the publication sells around 2,000 copies.

The case of Apoyevmatini, the daily Greek language newspaper, is more tragic, which has seen its number wane to 600. In 1925 when it was founded, it was the most read newspaper of its time. Back then 150,000 out of 850,000 residents of Istanbul were of Greek origin. A community of 2,000 remain in Turkey, most of whom are elderly. Its longstanding editor-in-chief Mihail Vasiliadis prepares the newspaper with his son Minas in a room at his home in Istanbul’s Kurtuluş district.

As a fourth-generation Istanbulite, Mihail Vasiliadis’ career truly sheds light on what it means to be a minority journalist in Turkey. In 1964, as a 23-year-old journalist he was charged for “spreading Greek propaganda.” His trial took eleven years, where Mihail was banned from leaving the country and had to act as his own lawyer since he could not find anyone representation. That year all Greek newspapers shut down apart from Apoyevmatini. A decade later, during Turkey’s Cyprus operation, when tension was at an all time high with the Greeks, Mihail migrated to Greece. He kept up operating Apoyevmatini from Greece until he returned to Turkey in 2002. The 84-year-old is a treasure trove for Turkey’s relationship with the Greeks and a living witness to his community’s dismantling.

Unfortunately, these minority communities inherited from the Ottoman Empire were not necessarily included in the construction of the modern Turkish national identity. Turkification, being a Turk, has been characterized as a bond over a singular language, speaking Turkish and singular religion, being Muslim. Throughout the country’s century-long existence, state-sponsored policies ensured the continued ousting of ethno-cultural and religious groups and public outlook on minorities has always been prone to manipulation. These communities have been used as a bargaining chip for those ruling. But mostly they are a group deemed dispensable depending on the sitting government’s strategy to power grab.

On September 6 1955, thousands of Turks took to the streets of Istanbul attacking the properties of minorities, mainly ethnic Greeks with a spillover effect onto Armenians and Jews. It is commemorated as the Istanbul pogrom, and referred to as the Turkish Kristallnacht. There was pillaging, rape and the financial damages amounted to $150 million. This anti-minority sentiment was sponsored by the then-governing Democratic Party, which used the Greeks as a scapegoat and showed them as a target for their governing incapacities. Mob attacks of this sort inevitably led to the migration of minorities.

Since its founding the Turkish political terrain has been prone to such attacks. The two decade rule of the Justice and Development Party (AKP) has not changed that. Like its predecessors, AKP has not been afraid of targeting minority groups for their own agenda.

In 2007, the assassination of the editor-in-chief of the bilingual Armenian newspaper Agos, Hrant Dink happened under AKP’s watch. The Dink murder trial was dragged out for 14 years as it brought to light the involvement of former police officers and top security personnel. In spite of the Dink family lawyer’s pressing for state officials who had played a role in the assassination of Dink to be put on trial, they were not. Proof of the deep rooted anti-minority sentiment.

It comes as no surprise that today the offices of minority-run publications are hidden in plain sight. Jamanak has no shiny door sign suggesting it is there. The offices are not accessible through the staircase, which is vaulted shut by an iron door. Guests are admitted through the elevator that can only be accessed if someone in the office calls on it. Şalom, the weekly bilingual Jewish newspaper, is even more careful. There are two security guards at the entrance patting down guests and checking their IDs as well as bags before the glass door opens with a buzzer from the inside. Rightfully so, on November 15 2003, suicide attacks were carried out that targeted two synagogues in Istanbul during prayer time. Each time President Erdogan utters his hatred for Israel, a mob appears on the doorstep of synagogues.

Ivo Molinas, publisher of Şalom newspaper, has been navigating these murky political waters as a leading figure for more than two decades now. And as part of a politically charged minority community, he believes that “the natural state of journalism in Turkey is one of self-censorship.” Self censorship for such media outlets that are already considered “other” and outside of society, has been a method of survival. Hence why, contrary to Turkish daily newspapers these have been printed in the evening. It is entrenched in the founding of some such as Apoyevmatini, which translates as afternoon from Greek. Self censorship, as Koçunyan understands it, is a historical reflex that comes with surviving decades of political happenings.

In addition to an already self imposed ban, freedom of speech overall has worsened under the AKP era. Turkey has become one of the top jailers of journalists worldwide. In 2016, one in three of the world’s jailed journalists were in Turkey. Moreover, violence against journalists has increased and many more have lost their jobs.

This additional suppression has discouraged the younger generation to work in journalism. Regrettably it is getting harder for these publications to breed successors. “It is not a lucrative job. I understand why the younger generation is not willing to do it. I will do this as long as I can, but I have lost faith that I will be able to find someone to hand over my job,” says Molinas, who for over a decade has been looking for his replacement. Jamanak is unable to find young journalists to join its team. “The mastery of the Armenian language seems to be lacking in the younger generation. To do this job one needs a certain level of education, but more concerningly we are unable to find anyone willing to do the job,” says Koçunyan. Due to the current political and economical climate, most young people are looking to migrate abroad. “My children have moved abroad. Beyond convincing them to work in journalism, it is even harder to convince them to stay in Turkey,” Molinas says.

Indeed, the exodus of minority communities means that there are less readers in Turkey. With the internet, these print publications have had a chance to upgrade their systems to an online platform where they are able to reach the diaspora abroad. Jamanak can be read online. Apoyevmatini sends daily newsletters to those who subscribe. “I receive emails from all around the world. Individuals from Canada who remember the opening of the Moda Sea Club in 1935 and thank me for updating them on current events,” says Mihail. By reporting on their respective communities’ lives in Istanbul and beyond, these publications maintain a nostalgic bond with a growing diaspora, who remember what once was.

Sadly, for those who are left behind their community is aging. Most of the readers of Apoyevmatini are above 60 years old. “It costs 30TL to print a single daily newspaper that is sold for 3TL, but I have to keep printing. They are my community,” says Mihail.

The archival value of these media outlets are unmatched. Beyond being examples of minority journalism, these institutes are time capsules. They are living cultural heritage fixtures. As it stands, these media organizations do not have the staff, time or funds to make use of the history that they have collected. Their preservation would necessitate an interested third party to digitize these assets and make it accessible to the public.

As Turkey celebrates the 100th anniversary of its founding this October, there is a nostalgic overview of the diversity it shed over the years. Minority newspapers are a mirror of a forgotten past. Those still in print today are representative of Istanbul’s cosmopolitan past, and are by no means representative of larger Turkey. Their survival is linked to these communities’ strong bond with the city of Istanbul. These publications are an important part of Turkey’s collective memory, but their near extinction is almost a certainty.