The year 1923 witnessed one of the greatest crimes of the twentieth century, committed by all the “civilized states,” both victors and losers, in the series of major wars from the Balkan War of 1913 to the end of the Greek-Turkish War in 1923. Under the Treaty of Lausanne, a population exchange was carried out between the emerging Turkish Republic and the Greek state, primarily under British auspices, which sought to establish nation-states within the former Ottoman Empire. To achieve this, social and religious diversity within the modern states had to be minimized to promote national harmony.
With this primitive British vision, the treaty was signed, and 1.5 million Greek Orthodox Greeks were deported from western Anatolia, their historical homeland, to the Greek countryside. In return, approximately 500,000 Turkish Muslims were deported from across Greece to Anatolia.
This treaty came in the aftermath of the Treaty of Sèvres, signed in 1920. In this treaty, the victorious powers distortedly drew maps for establishing spheres of influence and creating mini-states on the ruins of the Ottoman Empire. What is striking about the transition from Sèvres to Lausanne is not Mustafa Kemal’s victory in the War of Independence; it could have been halted at some point had Greece not transgressed against the British vision. Thus, Abdullah Öcalan describes Britain’s stance in sponsoring the Treaty of Lausanne and ending Sèvres as “a shift in position based on the interests of the regime” (The Kurdish Question, p. 156). Britain and France could not have prevented Russia from controlling several of the proposed mini-states, nor did they resolve who would dominate Istanbul and the straits. Continuing with the treaty would have paved the way for a second world war between the victorious powers of the first.
The Kurdish state proposed in that treaty (Sèvres), for reasons that remain undisclosed and which continue to influence us today, was confined to two adjacent regions: the first, directly under British influence, centered on the island of Botan, led by the Badirkhan family; the second, including Diyarbakır and extending westward to the Euphrates River, was described in British diplomatic and intelligence correspondence as “Western Kurdistan.” What is notable about the Treaty of Sèvres is that, in addition to Van and all Serhad, the Kurdish region west of the Euphrates was removed from the map of Kurdistan—specifically, the longitudinal rectangle adjacent to the western bank of the Euphrates, from Sivas through Malatya, then Adiyaman, and reaching Afrin. Southern Kurdistan was also annexed to Iraq. Öcalan relies on this information to argue that the Treaty of Sèvres was only partially implemented, with parts of it incorporated into Lausanne, which continues to this day.
Today in Turkey, both treaties (Sèvres and Lausanne) still occupy a prominent place in the ideological discourse of Turkish political parties. Within this context, four currents can be identified in the Turkish political landscape:
First: The Justice and Development Party (AKP), under Erdoğan’s sole rule, has become centered around the Treaty of Lausanne as a foundation for overcoming this treaty, either through amendment or abolition. Erdoğan’s aligned media propagates blatant misinformation, claiming that the treaty is 100 years old and will expire in 2023, and that Turkey must prepare for a fight for its survival.
Second: The Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) is founded on a historic fear of reimposing the Treaty of Sèvres, both its nationalist component related to the Kurds and Armenians, and its religious component related to the Greek Orthodox.
Third: The Peoples’ Democratic Party (DEM) seeks to revive the spirit of the Treaty of Sèvres—not its geographical divisions—aiming to incorporate its proposals into a single nation-state that manages ethnic and religious diversity through recognition, not extermination.
Fourth: The Republican People’s Party (CHP) regards the Treaty of Lausanne as the jewel of the Turkish state, or as Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu described it, “a taboo on Turkish territory.”
Russia vs. Lausanne
Erdogan has reignited the controversy over the Treaty of Lausanne since the failed coup attempt in July 2016. That fall, the Turkish president launched a surprise attack on the treaty, denouncing it as a victory for Turkey.
Since then, the pursuit of ways to bypass Lausanne has become an obsession for Erdoğan. During a visit to Greece on December 17, 2017, Erdoğan reopened the issue of Lausanne, claiming that there are unclear provisions in the treaty that require “updating” it.
Here, Erdoğan’s aim to bypass Lausanne is linked to the gas wealth of the Eastern Mediterranean. The area surrounding the islands that the treaty granted to Greece in the Aegean Sea is considered a new gas zone, and the treaty’s provisions restrict Turkey’s ability to legally explore in the Eastern Mediterranean. However, last month, the Turkish president took a step back. In a message marking the 96th anniversary of the treaty’s signing (July 24, 1923), he described Lausanne as “Turkey’s document of independence” and the culmination of the victories of the War of Independence (1919–1922).
An international indicator of the divergence within the Justice and Development Party (AKP) in its Erdoğanist phase (post-Ahmet Davutoğlu) is that the anti-Lausanne rhetoric finds support from Russia, exemplified by Russia’s offer to escort Turkish exploration ships in the Mediterranean, as well as the occupation of Afrin, which constitutes a violation of the borders drawn in Lausanne and later confirmed in the Ankara Treaty of 1926.
Erdoğan’s characterization of the treaty as a “document of independence” occurs within the context of a discourse of rapprochement with the United States. The AKP is internally divided between two currents: the pro-Russian Eurasianists and the pro-NATO Atlanticists, a situation that can be described as “strategic chaos.” (It is useful here to review the contributions of writer Farhad Hami on this issue.)
The contrast between Eurasianism and Atlanticism can be summarized as follows: The former encourages Turkey to expand and occupy, evidenced not only by Turkey’s offer to escort drilling ships but also by its efforts to legitimize Turkish guardianship over Idlib and all of northern Aleppo, which is under direct Turkish occupation. The Atlanticist trend, while historically supporting Turkey in its internal wars against the Kurds, has significant consequences for attempts to bypass Lausanne. At minimum, serious sanctions could be imposed—as happened for ten years when Ankara invaded northern Cyprus in 1974. Moreover, last month, the United States officially entered as a supporter of Egypt, Greece, and Cyprus regarding gas exploration in the Eastern Mediterranean, in a convoluted and “long-suffering” message—typical of Atlanticist style—aimed at any Turkish transgression.
The Nightmare of Sèvres
The nationalist movement’s discourse on European unity, since its economic phase in the 1970s, has been marked by hostility and extreme caution. During this period, Alparslan Türkeş declared his rejection of the European Common Market “because it would indirectly lead to the implementation of the Treaty of Sèvres by allowing foreigners to buy land and gain benefits in any part of the country they wanted” (quoted from a study by Şermin Korkusuz). For the party, the European Union was an extension of the Allied powers of World War I. Throughout its history, the party sought to confine its definition of a desirable European Union to an economic framework—an economic organization that would provide Turkey with financial grants without demanding anything in return.
When Turkey’s candidacy for EU membership was accepted in 1999 at the Helsinki Summit, the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) was part of the governing coalition. The party leader, Devlet Bahçeli, changed his tone and began speaking of “rediscovering Turkey’s geopolitical and geographical importance, which had been underestimated in the post-Cold War period,” and that “the European Union needs Turkey to achieve the desired stability in the Caucasus, the Balkans, and the Middle East” (Şermin, 13). The discourse around the EU oscillated between welcoming Turkey’s aspirations to join and denouncing the EU’s racism when it tightened membership criteria. However, the EU ceased to be viewed as the enemy pushing for Turkey’s division and as the agent of the Treaty of Sèvres. Yet, after the MHP lost its parliamentary representation in the 2002 elections and the EU increasingly focused on human rights issues—such as the trial of Öcalan—Bahçeli reverted to portraying the EU as an enemy and an “aspirer to realize Byzantine dreams” (Şermin, 13). These accusations were also directed at the Justice and Development Party (AKP), which Bahçeli saw as a continuation of the Freedom and Coalition Party that governed Ottoman Istanbul when it was occupied by the Allies after World War I and signed the Treaty of Sèvres.
Before the formation of the alliance between the AKP and the MHP in the early 2015 parliamentary elections—known in Turkey as the alliance between center-right and far-right—the MHP accused the AKP of working to restore the Treaty of Sèvres and pave the way for Turkey’s partition.
Since its founding in 1969, the MHP has framed its ideological discourse around Soviet and NATO conspiracies to restore the Treaty of Sèvres and abolish the Treaty of Lausanne. In this regard, the party has operated along two loosely controlled directions: on one hand, it dedicates itself to fighting all political and social manifestations reminiscent of the Sèvres era, thereby preserving the gains of Lausanne; on the other hand, it adopts a distorted nationalist interpretation of the “National Pact” approved in 1920 by the Ottoman Parliament, which defined the state’s borders to include all of northern Syria, Mosul, Kirkuk, the Kurdistan region of Iraq, and the entire island of Cyprus. In this sense, it aligns with Erdoğan in border expansion, though it is more cautious about the possibility of such expansion backfiring against Turkey.
Based on its on-the-ground behavior, the party views crime as something it either commits secretly or under the cover of law. The legal umbrella provides wide latitude for crimes, including genocide and the mass deportation of hundreds of thousands of unwanted residents. However, at some point, when the potential reimposition of Sèvres arises through the undermining of Lausanne, Devlet Bahçeli will likely be less impulsive than Erdoğan and may act to hold him back—even though the official platforms of both parties give the nationalist movement the upper hand in racism and a genocidal mindset. Yet, Bahçeli will do this from his new stance as an advocate of the Eurasianist orientation, which Erdoğan has not fully embraced.
In recent days, Bahçeli has sent highly contradictory signals, including receiving the Ukrainian president and declaring that Turkey will never recognize the Russian occupation of Crimea, as well as announcing the construction of the first church in the history of the Turkish Republic, dedicated to the Syriac Orthodox community. Erdoğan’s choice of this community for the first church is a clever way to circumvent his ally Bahçeli, who focuses his concerns on Armenian and Greek sects as tools of Sèvres, not the Syriac Orthodox. On the other hand, this decision aligns with Erdoğan’s trend toward Russia, which he may view as an imperial expression of Orthodoxy. The building of the church as a gesture welcoming Russia may be enough, at least temporarily, to silence Bahçeli, who is terrified of opening Turkey to Christianity and reviving what he calls the “Byzantine dream.”
Shadows of Hagia Sophia
In a telling story, writer Selim Koru recounts the atmosphere of transformation within the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) before its alliance with the Justice and Development Party (AKP), and how the latter drew them in during the 2011 elections. That year, as the country was preparing for the general elections, Koru met two young men from the MHP who looked worried and gloomy. He asked them, “What’s wrong?” One replied, “There are rumors that the AKP will reopen Hagia Sophia for worship.” Koru thought to himself, “Shouldn’t they be happy? People like them would be willing to clean Hagia Sophia with a toothbrush if it really were reopened.” The other young man said, “Well, if the AKP does it, honestly, we don’t know how we wouldn’t vote for them in the elections.”
This ruling alliance between the AKP and the MHP continues to rest on unresolved agreements about breaking away from the Atlanticist circle. Until the next presidential elections in 2023, Erdoğan and Bahçeli will work together under the slogan that the best way to bury the Treaty of Sèvres beneath another layer of massacres is to work towards bypassing Lausanne.
