I: Have You Served Your Conscription

I

HAVE YOU SERVED YOUR CONSCRIPTION?

I never liked having my hair cut… I remember being 4 years old and dragging my mum away as I called out ‘pig-face’ to the barber who was surprised by my resistance and my desire to keep a longer hair. It was an insult I had learnt from the only character with natural hair colour in the Jem and the Holograms cartoon. My parents didn’t understand my obsession. I loved playing with hair and seeing it blow in the wind. In fun fairs I had just as much joy watching longhaired individuals on rides as being on a ride myself. My parents refused to buy me a doll as they thought it was something inappropriate for a boy to

play with. A compromise was achieved when I convinced them to buy me a My Little Pony, followed by one more and then another.

I still find it a challenge to get a haircut as an adult, but not because I want to keep my hair long. Mine wouldn’t be fun to play with and instead of blowing in the wind in a beautiful and elegant way it would be flopping around as a dark mass attached to the top of my head. These monthly rituals of cropping my hair and getting a skin fade (my barber tells me it would make my face appear slimmer and more attractive to women) often involve a series of

questions about my private life. The fact that the barber and I speak the same language and hence exclude almost every other customer from the

conversation, inexplicitly gives him the permission to ask those. For this reason, over the last year I specifically waited for my hair to be cut by the Iranian barber instead. The fact that I found him undeniably handsome played a part but he also had a quiet demeanour and a softness to him that

contrasted with his coarse beard and bulging forearm muscles: I noticed these features over time, repeatedly, as I watched his mirror reflection move around my veiled body.

The last two times I was there I observed his absence, and they told me that

he opened his own place outside the city. With resignation I sat down at the chair of the most chatty and obtrusive of the barbers. Whilst he adjusted the seat’s height to accommodate my body, I noticed the moist patch of fabric on the underarm of his off-white shirt. It was difficult not to perceive his

unwelcomed scent as he overconfidently manoeuvred a pair of scissors around my head. The first question he asks without failure is if I had work

today. The question leaves a bitter taste as I explain to him once more that I am a student, still a student… I think that he thinks I am too old to be one at

the age of 33. Not a projection I am making, but reading his body language is sufficient. He flattens his lips and crinkles his forehead on one side without lifting his eyebrows – he tries not to make his reaction too obvious. We talk about the importance of loving what you do; this is how he comes to terms with me leaving my medical training behind to pursue something that is less

grounded.

My eyes travel between what is in front of me; the blade suspended in the fluorescent purple disinfectant, and what is reflected in the mirror from

behind; mass-produced black and white photographs of classically handsome Caucasian men. The hum of the hair clipper puts me in a state of trance as I stare in stupor at the photograph of the original owner of the barbershop

whose name still remains outside the door. The trance breaks with his second

question: what are your hobbies? He never remembers them, as they don’t match his own. Apart from disliking haircuts, I also dislike football; both watching and playing. He asks what else I like. I become acutely aware of the little collection of droplets secreted from my pores and trapped by the elastic band around my neck choking me. At this point he is annoyed as it is too

much of a struggle for him to find a commonality and I refuse to perform for him to arrive at this commonality.

With one hand pressing down a black plastic comb onto my scalp, he sprays water with the other at my thirsty hair. He tries one more time to anchor in with a conversation topic and sighs with relief, as finally there is something we can talk about. Askerliğini yaptın mı? he asks; have you served your

conscription?

The Rite of Passage The icebreaker of a question is asked at various social situations and unifies,

as every male over the age of 20 is required by law to participate in the national service. It is a pillar in both the national and masculine identity of the Turkish male, making it an expected topic of conversation in casual exchanges. According to Aslı Zengin it is possible to define ‘the present hegemonic masculinity in Turkey […] as a heterosexual, authoritarian,

conservative, culturally Muslim, middle-to high-class, and [ethnically] Turkish. ’1 The ideal Turkish man in this context is thus ‘expected to be an obedient son

to his father and deeply devoted to his mother and to prove himself as a risk taker, assertive, a warrior, courageous, and fearless.’ 2

There are several rites of passage that mark the transition from a boy to a man who is part of this hegemonic masculine realm: circumcision, interest in football and serving his conscription before obtaining a job that is secured through his educational achievements. This then allows the man to get married and have children as ‘his performance in these sites shapes the public

1 Aslı, Zengin, ‘ Violent Intimacies: Tactile State Power, Sex/Gender Transgression, and the Politics of Touch in Contemporary Turkey’, Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies, 12:2 (2016), 225-245 (p.229).

2 Ibid, p.229.

opinion of his masculinity in private and public environments. ’3 In this respect I come short on several. Despite having being circumcised at the age of eight under the watchful eye of my relatives, their friends and their children, on a bed decorated with red ribbons and gold coins which were given to me as presents, I had and still have zero interest in football. In fact, I still avoid kicking back a ball that rolls towards me in a park due to the fear of ridicule of my insufficient and clumsy kick. I have also gotten out of my conscription through a loophole. 4

In 1927, shortly after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the formation of the Turkish Republic, the military service became compulsory for all men. This was a means to expand the power of the new nation state and ‘to mold the subjects within the new gender regime [which] defined men as independent and sovereign subjects who are now able to enter into a formal relation with the state. ’5 This masculine sovereignty allowed access to employment and marriage in exchange for obedience to the military discipline and authority of the state.

Oyman Başaran argues that the appeal of the military service has dramatically reduced over the past three decades. As the armed conflicts between the Kurdistan Worker’s Party (PKK) and the Turkish state intensified, an increasing number of men sought loopholes in the recruitment process. Within the same timeframe, ‘social, cultural and political changes such as economic transition to a liberalized market economy, the emergence of new axes of

3 Ibid, p.229.

4 A transient allowance was made in 2015 for dual citizen Turks living overseas, to be exempt from service upon payment of a fee.

5 Oyman, Başaran, ‘”You Are Like a Virus”: Dangerous Bodies and Military Medical Authority in Turkey’, Gender & Society, 28:4 (2014), 562-582 (p.567).

differentiation within society other than a rural/urban divide, [and] the greater fragmentation of social identities’ allowed a restructured class system in Turkey.6 This transformation has thwarted the cultural significance of military service for young men. This is most prevalent among the members of the

middle and upper classes as more and more use their resources to delay the draft by enrolling into higher education or paying for exemption from the military service; because for them, ‘military service [is] no longer the primary symbolic medium through which they [express] their masculinity. ’7 Previously, payment for exemption was only reserved for Turkish nationals residing overseas, but a new system currently under parliamentary consideration will

allow any applicant to be made exempt upon payment.

Zengin summarises the other ways to avoid military service: evading,

declaring conscientious objection to military violence or receiving a çürük raporu which translates to a rotten or a bruised report. 8 The first two options

are illegal and put the men at risk of imprisonment, the third option relates to severe health problems that are evaluated according to the Health Regulations for Turkish Armed Forces. Here, ill health acts as a signifier of a bruised or rotten masculinity; the potential draftee is no longer eligible to become a member of the sovereignly masculine club. The military uses the first printing of Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM II) published in 1968 that lists homosexuality as a psychosexual disorder. 9

6 Ibid, p.568.

7 Ibid, p.568. I will be using italics in main body of text for voicing the phrases the military is using, e.g. homosexual, to denote their opinion rather than mine (excluding Turkish terms or names).

8 Zengin, p.238.

9 Başaran, p.579. In 1974, following protests by gay advocacy groups, The American Psychological Association removed homosexuality from its list of disorders, however the military still uses the outdated manual to diagnose its patients.

Sexuality Historicised Homosexuality is not illegal in the Republic of Turkey; in fact, sodomy was decriminalised in 1858 during a period of reformation of the Ottoman Empire. 10 This, however, does not mean gay individuals have the same rights. Following the military coup of 1980, ‘trans individuals and “effeminate” gays were expelled from the cities on the grounds that they were posing a danger

to the public order. ’11 Furthermore, when the Turkish Military Penal Code went into effect in 1930, immoral acts or crimes were punished. These acts

include drunkenness, wearing the military uniform to a brothel or a casino, marrying or cohabiting with a sex worker or practising gaytırabi mukarenet,

which translates to unnatural behaviours. This vague term allows punishment for acts that the country’s civil law does not criminalise, such as homosexuality. If you have the freedom to express your sexuality in your dayto-day life, then why does it prevent you from serving your conscription?

The punishable unnatural behaviour was not always seen as unnatural. Even before sodomy was decriminalised in the pre-republican era, homosexuality was indeed part of the military life. The Janissaries, meaning new soldier in Ottoman Turkish, were formed of infantry units that made up the sultan’s

household troops and bodyguards. They were regarded as ‘the most disciplined, dedicated fighting machine that the world had seen. ’12 They comprised mostly of war prisoners and systematically abducted young

Christian boys whom were made to convert to Islam, as non-Muslims were not allowed to bear arms. Following a rigorous training, they became paid

10 Tehmina Kazi, ‘The Ottoman Empire’s Secular History Undermines Sharia Claims’, The Guardian, 7 October 2011. < https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2011/oct/07/ottoman-empiresecular-history-sharia> [Accessed 25 March 2019].

11 Başaran, p.569.

12 Niki Gamm, ‘The Complete Janissary’, Hürriyet Daily News, 1 December 2012. <http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/the-complete-janissary-35841> [Accessed 27 March 2019].

soldiers but with limited rights; they were not allowed to marry until retirement. From the seventeenth century onwards, serving as a Janissary

became so desirable that the traditional recruitment process declined and access was also given to young men born to Muslim families. The high number of applicants exceeded the actual demand and thus the young applicants, known as çiveleks, were registered on a waiting list and were allowed to stay in the army barracks under the protection of a fellow Janissary. 13 Until grown up, the çivelek on the verge of puberty served the various needs of the older soldier, including being their bedfellow. Here, the surplus of army applicants paved a way for increased homosexual relationships, albeit those of an ephemeral nature.

It was not uncommon for the çivelek to wear a tasselled veil ‘so that his

beardless face was not exposed to the desiring gaze of other men. ’14 Sertaç Sehlikoğlu focuses on the concept of mahremiyet, the Islamic notion of privacy and intimacy, which ‘always denotes confidentiality that the insider is expected to preserve and an outsider is expected not to violate. ’15 Though his essay focuses on the heterosexual culture in contemporary Turkey, it applies to the case above as, ‘sexuality is regulated through regulation of the body, not only through covering but also through a series of organized behaviours, movements, and attitudes in order not to attract attention, looks, and

13 Serkan Delice, ‘The Janissaries and Their Bedfellows: Masculinity and Male Friendship in EighteenthCentury Ottoman Istanbul’, in Gender and Sexuality in Muslim Cultures, ed by Gül Özyeğin (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015) 115-136 (p.125).

14 Ibid, p.125.

15 Sertaç Sehlikoğlu, ‘The Daring Mahrem: Changing Dynamics of Public Sexuality in Turkey’ in Gender and Sexuality in Muslim Cultures, ed by Gül Özyeğin (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015) 235-252 (p.237).

gazes. ’16 It was thus up to the çivelek to preserve his piety when in a room full of desiring men.

Serkan Delice’s essay focuses on The Book of Shampooers that Opens the Soul, an Ottoman treatise written in 1686 by Derviş İsmail, the Istanbul based Chief of the Bath Keepers. The book describes the lives and relationships of

eleven Istanbul-based shampooers employed by various hammams during late seventeenth century whom also worked as prostitutes in the same space. One of the eleven men, Yemenici Ali, was a fifteen year-old-boy who also served in the Janissaries. As a çivelek he earned no money. One day, a police superintendent found him in the police station as multiple men had raped him, including a fellow Janissary. Here he had no chance of reserving his mahremiyet. Whilst the perpetrators of the violent crime suffered no consequence, the victim’s name was added to a stigmatizing list of prostitutes and the word catamite was imprinted on his calves. He sought the help of Derviş İsmail to get his name removed from the list and eventually became his bedfellow, as ‘ending up as someone’s bedfellow […] pointed towards a […] network of patrons, clients, and suitors in Ottoman society. ’17 It also allowed a privileged access to information they would otherwise not have had. In fact, the Ottoman administration felt threatened by the bathhouse employees because due to their profession they came into contact with a large number of people ‘and thus [were] able to exchange political ideas and opinions with their customers, which turned bathhouses into potential hotbeds of revolt and dissention. ’18 It was not the fact that they were homosexual per se, but that

16 Ibid, p.238.

17 Ibid, p.133.

18 Ibid, p.123.

the potential power they may have gained by their multiple relationships could have caused disruption to the authoritative power.

Sexuality Declared Refocusing on the current situation in Turkey, a potential reason why gay men are excluded from their conscription may be a method of sustaining power control. Certain forms of exchange, interaction and intimacy are expected to take place between the soldiers:

Homosocial bonding practices (e.g., friendship, comradeship, solidarity, and sacrifice for your peers) are normalised, encouraged, and deemed necessary for keeping the soldiers together and sustaining military order. […] The military seeks to protect this order through assessing the dangerousness of the conscripts, thereby excluding certain bodies (effeminate men) that are feared to disrupt the dynamics inherent in

male homosocial bonding in military service by provoking and/or seducing other soldiers.19

Based on Başaran’s research, the psychologists working in the military hospitals deploy ‘technologies of power and produce knowledge about individuals in order to determine whether or not they pose a threat to the body of the society. ’20 Regardless of their sexuality, the military psychologists also attempt to find ‘imposters who evade the duty undeservedly [and hence] short-circuit the economy of sacrifice of the Turkish military and threaten the very foundation of the military, which is manpower. ’21 In a society that values

19 Başaran, p.574.

20 Ibid, p.578.

21 Ibid, p.577.

conscription as one of the key milestones and as an entryway to the hegemonic masculine realm, both instances, being a gay man or an imposter, are sufficient to be stigmatised against as the question have you served your conscription? is inescapable.

A declaration of homosexuality is not enough to get out of military service; it is a long process that has no set standard procedure. There are no official channels of information regarding this and many find access through online forums or through word-of-mouth. The first time I heard about the specifics of the process was the only time I met someone who had gone through it. A few

summers ago, in my hometown, Izmir, I walked by a long a public beach as the sun scorched down on my sunburnt body. Once I went past a secluded area where mostly conservative families bathed in, I climbed over a hill to reach a small beach. I had discovered this secret location a few years before and it became my quiet spot, where I sunbathed in the nude. Given its clandestine nature, each year more nude bathers came, most of whom were gay men. That day, I came across the Ukrainian man that I had met the summer before but this time he was with his new Turkish boyfriend. The boyfriend decided to be friendly once he reached the conclusion that no past indiscretions had taken place between his boyfriend and me. Eventually, he asked me the inevitable question have you served your conscription? and after I said no he decided to tell me about what he had endured.

The draftee who requests exemption must first report to the local military office in the district and ask for their transference to the military hospital’s psychiatry division where the psychologist will examine the individual based on their complaint: homosexuality. The following steps based on this consultation differ greatly. It is likely that he will take supervised psychological

tests such as the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), the Rotter Incomplete Sentence Blank (RISB) test, or the House-Tree-Person (HTP)

test. 22 Başaran’s interviewed psychologists ‘emphasize that the tests were designed to assess general psychopathological disposition and personality structure rather than reveal homosexual inclinations, the results of these tests

are used to bolster military psychologists’ decisions.’23 The main focus here is

to assess the likelihood that the individual is homosexual through analysing how feminine he is, based on the cultural norms in Turkey which dictate that a gay man is effeminate and is the one who is penetrated during sexual intercourse. He may also need to stay in the hospital between three to fourteen days for constant medical inspection.

The results are then discussed at the next appointment in the hospital, when

he may also be referred to the general surgery department to check for any deformation or loss of muscle tone of the anus that may have occurred due to repeated sexual intercourse. Zengin states that ‘the role of the “recipient” partner in sexual intercourse denotes a “passive” position, which in turn

demasculinises and so (ef)feminizes the male body, excluding it from the membership of the masculine military community. ’24 At instances when applicants were found not to be homosexual enough, visual material in the form of photographs and videos were asked. This practice has been largely abandoned since 2009 but still occurred until very recently. Through the

22 MMPI is a standardised psychometric test of adult personality and psychopathology, consisting of 567 yes/no statements which the subject must answer accurately as the results also calculate a degree of accuracy by asking the same questions differently. One of the scales used for the above situation is the masculinity/femininity scale. RISB is a psychological test where the first few words of 40 sentences are given which is then completed by the subject to determine a score for maladjustment. HTP has two phases: the subject draws a house, a tree and a person, followed by a verbal reflection of what they have drawn.

23 Başaran, p.571.

24 Zengin, p.239.

sharing of personal experiences in the gay community, certain visual rules were formulated: the image should be made during sexual intercourse where the applicant’s visible and clear face reflects a state of satisfaction and joy, and he should be the recipient or the passive partner. The applicant is thus

‘expected to display himself and his sexual desire pornographically. ’25 The final stage occurs in front of a committee sitting around a U-shaped table. Here, the results from the psychological and physical examinations are shared while the committee observes the applicant for his posture, affect and gait. The committee may ask him further questions before a final decision is made. Either the applicant’s request is denied, his military service suspended for a year or he obtains the certificate of exemption. 26

It appears that to obtain an exception from military service individuals must first officially claim they are indeed homosexual. They are then psychologically and physically tested by several military officials and undergo a form double penetration: in the visual they create as a form of evidence, and by the medical staff in the hospital where they inspect them. Here they relinquish their mahremiyet or piety in front of the officials in order to prevent a provocation or seduction of the heteronormative men who are serving their

country proudly at the gateway to the masculine realm: their homosocial bonding must not be disturbed! In order to be excluded from it, the utterance of ‘I am gay ’ is not enough as you must evidence and perform it based on the unwritten rules. It is through this performance that you may be deemed feminine enough, and hence disruptive to the hegemonic masculine

society.

25 Ibid, p.239.

26 Başaran, pp.570-571.

-Have you served your conscription?

-No, I was made exempt.