Normalization with Barbarism

110 years ago, Anatolia, Kurdistan, and Armenia were not merely regions torn apart; they represented an open arena for the collapse of the concept of co-existence. What transpired then was not just a series of massacres, but a moment that marked a liberation from the goodness of history—a doomsday moment for neighboring peoples.

The state was crumbling as it counted its defeats in the Balkans, and subsequently faced military collapses during World War I against Russia and the Allies. The Muslim populations of Anatolia, particularly in Kurdistan, recognized that the state could no longer protect them. The genocidal deportation of Armenians was executed under the orders of Talat Pasha, and the ensuing panic among Ottoman Muslims persisted. For many years, the full scale of this deportation remained unknown. Neighbors of Armenians believed there were still Armenians in their villages and avoided these areas as long as they lacked the armed force to confront them or feared visiting them. After months, then years, they came to realize that these villages were deserted and that the evacuation had been ongoing for some time.

The late Ottoman paranoia, formed by centuries of declining glory and diminishing control, transformed into a systematic mechanism for murder. This was driven not only by fear of external forces but also by fear from within—from neighbors. In that moment, a unique brand of Anatolian barbarism emerged as a counterpoint to the Russian Caucasian barbarism: pre-emptive killing. The objective was to defeat future enemies by eradicating their capacity to reproduce, separating them from the land through deportation, killing and burying them, and abducting surviving children to place them in orphanages, to be adopted by the very perpetrators of these crimes. The testimonies of survivors and witnesses from that period are astonishing: how is it that the Day of Judgment has not yet arrived after what they endured?

I have dedicated years to studying this era, attempting to unravel this moment in the history of the Northern Levant, Kurdistan, and Anatolia. The culmination of my research is a forthcoming book entitled How Did the Treaty of Lausanne Change the Narrative of a Thousand Years of Interactions Among Peoples and Tribes in the Middle East? It is about that moment when humanity in this land transformed into what might be called “good criminals.” Sheikh Said Nursi left behind some remarkable memories from this time, notably how the Russian forces occupying Bedlis were astonished by his efforts to secure the safe passage of Armenian civilians to the Russian front. In turn, the Russians and Armenians began facilitating the safe passage of Kurdish refugees to the areas controlled by Kurds and Turks along the front lines. This was a moment of re-acquaintance and served as a deterrent to mass barbarism; it is certain that tens of thousands today are descendants of that resistance to barbarism.

The most dangerous form of barbarism is ‘preventive barbarism,’ which does not merely seek revenge but anticipates future enemies. It does not allow the enemy to be born, to express itself, or to reproduce. Therefore, the extermination was systematic; it was not a moment of madness or desperate protection, but a deliberate decision. Killing was not an emotional reaction; it was a calculated system.

The civil barbarism that was politically orchestrated by the Union and Progress Party in Anatolia and Tsarist Russia in Armenia had significant antecedents and loopholes tolerated by Ottoman elites and community leaders. Social discrimination began with jokes and gentle mockery, culminating in the so-called ‘rights of the perceived rightful owner’ to eliminate the lineage of a community perceived as rival and enemy. Barbarism serves a purpose: it is proactive, not merely retaliatory. The events between 1915 and 1923 were expected to remain within the bounds of vengeful violence, yet they devised a preemptive strategy to prevent the emergence of this enemy, resulting in the total extermination of the Armenian people.

In the Levant, we find ourselves in a similar predicament. However, this does not stem from strong institutions but from fragments of a state. It is not driven by a unified army but by militias operating under their own laws. This situation, extending over 14 years—oscillating between calm and violence—marks one of the lowest points in our history.

The most alarming difference now is that this has ceased to be a loophole; it has become a system—a way of life. In every ‘local’ massacre, in every sectarian speech, in every leaked photograph from a detention center, we see a repetition of the moment of 1915: a faceless visage, a victim who elicits no grief, and killings that demand no accountability.

After years of living in this vortex of destruction, we have begun to normalize barbarism, molding it into a definitional framework that makes it seem understandable and, in a twisted way, justified—as if claiming it is a vengeful reaction. The atrocities committed by ISIS against Yazidi women were not motivated by revenge; they represented a revival of historical barbarism.

If the last century was inaugurated with genocide, let us ensure that the remainder of this century is marked by the understanding that genocide is not merely a moral failing; it is a deliberate choice, and we must consciously make that choice.

The loopholes through which barbarism entered have become doors, and the irony of history is that we are challenged to build hope on the very foundations of barbarism itself. Barbarism could serve as a transitional phase to something greater, even though this transition is not guaranteed to lead to progress.