An Uneasy Honeymoon

By William E. Smith

The generals' takeover brings relief, and some foreboding

The most obvious effect of the military intervention that overthrew the Turkish government of Prime Minister Sueleyman Demirel two weeks ago was the widespread sense of relief it produced. After months of rising terrorism by both the extreme left and extreme right, the country allowed itself to settle into a state of unaccustomed relaxation. Civilians waved at tanks rumbling through the streets of Istanbul. Automobile drivers shook hands with soldiers who manned the roadblocks. Storekeepers raised their bombproof shutters for the first time in months, and restaurants began to fill up again in the evenings. Some city dwellers looked far trimmer than usual, simply because they no longer packed pistols inside their coats or waistbands. Ankara's English-language Turkish Daily News, reflecting the prevailing mood, announced in a banner headline: LIFE BACK TO NORMAL THROUGHOUT TURKEY.

Well, almost. Incidents of renewed terrorism marred the junta's uneasy post-coup honeymoon. Vowing opposition to the military regime, leftist guerrillas ambushed and killed a tank captain in Adana and a senior police officer in Istanbul. A left-wing extremist was killed in Istanbul when friends tried to free him from police custody. In the meantime, the military's roundup of suspected extremists continued, with more than 2,000 under arrest by the end of the week, and the offices of some 150 labor unions were closed down. The junta also ordered citizens to remove all political slogans from their walls. Said a martial law communique: "Everyone is responsible for his own wall. If you cannot afford new paint, you should call the martial law authorities in your neighborhood and they will provide it."

For the most part, however, the country rejoiced in the sudden easing of tension. The banks were open again. Tens of thousands of workers were ordered to end a nationwide wave of strikes and go back to their jobs. The new government sugared the pill by announcing a 70% wage increase for those who had been in the midst of labor negotiations at the time of the coup. There were soldiers on duty on city streets and bridges, and a cluster of blue-bereted commandos chatted idly outside Istanbul's Blue Mosque. Otherwise, the armed forces tried to keep discreetly out of sight as much as possible. Along the 300-mile road between Istanbul and Ankara, foreigners found few troops in evidence. Both deposed Prime Minister Demirel and Opposition Leader Buelent Ecevit remained under detention at a military resort hotel in Hamzakoey, near Gallipoli. They could receive telephone calls but refused to talk politics. Ecevit told one caller: "I'm sorry, the general in charge here has asked me not to discuss the present situation."

In his first press conference since the coup, the new head of state, General Kenan Evren, 62, announced that the government would wage a campaign against terrorism and would seek to create "a democratic social order that is responsible, effective, respectful of the rights of the citizen and capable of functioning." Moreover, he said, the military government would soon draft a new constitution, and the guessing in Ankara was that the generals leaned toward a strong executive and a two-party system capable of handling the country's internal unrest and economic woes. Said Evren, in defending the military's decision to take power: "All freedoms provided by democracy are for those who believe in it. Can the rights and freedoms of millions of virtuous people who believe in democracy be safeguarded if those who seek to destroy it abuse rights and freedoms to achieve their goals?"

When Evren and the other four members of the ruling National Security Council took the oath of office, they chose not to swear on the Koran or any other holy book. Instead, to underscore the secular nature of the Turkish state, they swore on their honor and invoked the name of Kemal Atatuerk, the founder of modern Turkey.

Few Turks would argue with Evren's contention that their country was in desperate straits. The economy is virtually crippled, with an unemployment rate of at least 20% and an inflation of around 120%. For the past three years, the country has been terrorized by an underground army of gunmen from the right and left; in the period immediately before the coup, the terrorists had been killing an average of 30 people a day. Parliament had been deadlocked for more than five months in its efforts to elect a new President and bring an end to the stalemate.

According to reports in Ankara, the armed forces commanders had been watching the growing crisis with great concern and finally made their move in an act of near desperation. They had been particularly worried about the poor performance of the police in combatting the terrorists and by the rising menace of Turkish Communist militants. They were also concerned about increasing signs of Islamic fanaticism; a rally in Konya earlier this month that attracted 70,000 people struck them as a threat to Atatuerk's concept of a secular society, which the Turkish military is pledged under the existing constitution to uphold. The generals reportedly gave the politicians a final warning on Aug. 29 in an effort to get them to accept Prime Minister Demirel's plan for early elections as a way out of the parliamentary deadlock. When the parties failed to reach an agreement, the generals decided they could wait no longer.

By most accounts, at least in the current honeymoon period, they could not have done better than to rally around General Evren, who is described by a Western military expert in Turkey as "a father figure to his soldiers, an honest man with strong common sense." A native Anatolian, he is a stickler for rank and tradition; newsmen thought it was probably symbolic that they were carefully instructed to wear jackets and ties to his press conference last week. During the search for a new President over the past five months, Evren was suggested as a candidate but he turned down the idea, saying he would prefer to remain chief of staff.

As expected, Evren announced that his government would honor Turkey's commitments to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. The pledge was welcomed by Western strategists because Turkey, with the largest standing army in Europe, is the vital defender of NATO'S southeastern flank and shares a 350-mile border with the Soviet Union. Thus the U.S. and its Western European allies tended to be sympathetic to, if somewhat saddened by, the generals' reasons for seizing power. As Sir Ian Gilmour, Britain's Deputy Foreign Secretary, put it, "No one likes army coups. But when you have so many political killings and you have spent five months trying to elect a President, then democracy does not appear to be working very well."

Evren last week repeated the military's pledge to return the country quickly to civilian rule, as it did following the interventions of 1960 and 1971. The first military regime lasted 17 months, the second 30 months, but everybody agrees that Turkey is in worse shape this time. After the 1971 takeover, the junta sank rapidly in public esteem when it adopted brutal but effective tactics against leftist terrorists. Says a Western diplomat in Ankara: "The generals' dilemma is that, if they repeat the strong-arm tactics of 1971, they will lose the good will of the West, on which they depend. But if they don't get tough, they could end up losing the country."

The armed forces and the police have in the past made scarcely a dent in the bloodletting. Why, then, should the generals think they can put down the rising wave of terrorism since they have come to power? For one thing, they plan to reorganize the police force, making it as free as possible of political factionalism, and they are hoping that judges and prosecutors under the junta will be less fearful of threats and reprisals so that they will hand down stiffer sentences.

There is always the danger that the takeover may produce a split in the military leadership and thus undermine the new-found stability. So far, the generals have had trouble putting together a civilian Cabinet. Some politicians who were approached were said to be reluctant to join the government at a time when more than 50 members of parliament were being held in "protective custody." Late last week the military chose one of its own to be the new Prime Minister. He is Buelent Ulusu, 57, a former admiral and retired chief of the Turkish navy. Ulusu, who was not involved in the coup, was chosen over two other contenders, Gen. Haydar Saltik, a member of the ruling council, and Zayyat Baykara, a former senator.

Nonetheless, in the early days of the junta's rule, most Turks seem to agree that the takeover has given the country a badly needed respite. Said Orhan Kologlu, a former aide to Ecevit: "I like to walk two or three miles every day, but I haven't been able to do it lately; I was afraid for my life. Now I know I shall be safe. In a month's time, there may be cause to be frightened again. But for the moment, this is a welcome change."

--By William E. Smith. Reported by Roland Flamini/Ankara

With reporting by Roland Flamini

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