between the world wars shared many positive observations about the new regime, as did US diplomats. They lauded the absence of corruption and the determination to create a modern, democratic, Western state.
The nationalist government, based in its new capital of Ankara, took control of most of the foreign educational institutions. This aspect of society was too important to be left in the hands of foreigners. Education provided an effective means of implementing a nationalist curriculum to produce proud, patriotic citizens of the new republic.
After the bitter experience of World War I and its aftermath, Turkey declared its neutrality in the Second World War. Only when the conflict was almost over, on February 23, 1945, did the Turkish government declare war on Germany. This allowed it to become a charter member of the United Nations.
In the early postwar years, as the United States and the Soviet Union drifted apart and the US government took steps to contain the Soviets, the Truman administration moved slowly to strengthen ties with Turkey, which had assumed new strategic importance. The Soviets pressed Turkey to relax control over Russian naval vessels moving through the straits that separated the Black Sea from the Aegean, and as Greece descended into civil war, the Truman administration decided to support Ankara’s resistance to Soviet demands. In March 1947, after Britain had withdrawn from the area, Truman gave a landmark speech promising American economic and military assistance to both Greece and Turkey to counter communist aggression.2
Three years later, the Democrat Party swept to power in Ankara following free elections. It ruled for a decade. Moving away from many of the statist policies of Ataturk and the Republican People’s Party, the Democrats opened the Turkish economy to foreign investment and international capital. Washington found these reforms appealing. Prime Minister Adnan Menderes also continued to seek membership for his country in the newly formed North Atlantic Treaty Organization. The Scandinavian members argued that Greece and Turkey were neither Atlantic nor democratic and opposed their admission. To neutralize this opposition, and to show Turkey’s commitment to the Free World, Menderes sent a large contingent of 5,000 Turkish troops to aid the UN military effort in Korea. Turkey’s considerable contributions led to battlefield losses of more than 700 soldiers killed. Although American and European diplomats duly noted this sacrifice, it was insufficient to achieve the desired objective. Ultimately, Turkey (and Greece) gained NATO membership in February 1952 due to changing strategic considerations in Washington, not to events in far-off Korea.3
In 1955, with US encouragement, Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, and Great Britain formed the Baghdad Pact to maintain regional security. When Lebanon faced civil disturbances in 1958, American forces en route to Beirut used Turkish bases. By the end of the decade, the alliance with the United States had become the cornerstone of Turkey’s foreign policy. Yet this extremely important relationship would soon be challenged in dramatic fashion.
The greatest threat to harmonious relations between Turkey and the United States during the Cold War began in the early 1960s, shortly after the establishment of an independent Cyprus in 1960. Almost 20 percent of the island’s population was ethnically Turkish, a legacy of more than 300 years of Ottoman rule (1571–1878). Historically, this minority looked to the Republic of Turkey to defend its interests. Turkey, along with Greece and Great Britain, served as a guarantor of the 1960 Cypriot Constitution.4
Almost as soon as the Cypriot government in Nicosia commenced operation under its new president, Archbishop Makarios III, problems arose between the Greek majority and the Turkish minority, dispersed in informal enclaves around the island. Intercommunal tensions became so great that Ankara seriously considered military intervention in 1964. The infamous Johnson letter, familiar to all Turks, temporarily halted any such plans. The bluntness of LBJ’s message stunned Turkish officials. He denied Turkey’s right to use American weapons in such a venture and warned that NATO might not be obliged to defend Turkey if, in response to the Cyprus invasion, the Soviets moved against it. Prime Minister Ismet Inonu (1884–1973) sent a pained reply, challenging much of the American president’s statement. He especially took issue with Johnson’s interpretation of the NATO pact, which he declared showed a “wide divergence of views as to the nature and basic principles of the North Atlantic Alliance.”5
Deeply enmeshed in the Vietnam War, President Johnson had no intention of being distracted by another crisis, this one in the Mediterranean. In fact, a transcript of Johnson’s conversation with Secretary of State Dean Rusk a few days later indicated just how reluctant the president was to get involved in the crisis. His letter had invited Prime Minister Inonu to Washington for further discussions. Johnson now regretted that offer, saying plainly to Rusk, “Now what the hell is Lyndon Johnson doing inviting this big mess right in his lap? … I have no solution. I can’t propose anything. He’ll come over here looking for heaven and he’ll find hell.”6
Although most Turks were angered by the lack of American support in June 1964, recent evidence suggests that Inonu had been hoping for just such an American ultimatum to help him resist those elements of the Turkish military that favored an invasion. Apparently, he believed his own military was untrained and unprepared for a landing on the island, and Soviet leaders had already announced their support for Makarios against any foreign incursion. By sharing his plans with Washington and eliciting a sharp US response, Inonu could blame his ally for forcing the cancellation of the attack. If this was his scheme, he succeeded too well. The Johnson letter led many Turks to question their alliance with the Americans.7
The issue of Cyprus did not disappear, but for a short time, the situation on the island quieted down. During the years 1964–1967, a succession of senior American diplomats—George Ball, Dean Acheson, and Cyrus Vance—tried to broker an agreement. Ball warned Makarios that if he did not settle the disturbances, Turkey would invade one day, and no one would come to his rescue. Acheson seemed to accept the idea of partition or “double enosis.” Secret negotiations between Greece and Turkey continued, but rising tensions on the island put any immediate compromise out of reach.8
As a young American Peace Corps volunteer serving in Iran, I visited Cyprus during this period of relative calm. I can testify to the ongoing tensions. Along with two fellow volunteers, I visited several countries in the eastern Mediterranean region during my annual leave. We did not travel to nearby Turkey, but the reason for this omission did not become clear to me until many years later. My friend who organized our itinerary had grown up in a Greek American home, where he commonly heard lurid tales about the “Terrible Turk.” Given his background, he was unlikely to include a stopover in Istanbul or on any of the Turkish islands in the Aegean.
Our service in the Peace Corps did not guarantee that we were well informed about the political and social conditions in the countries on our itinerary. Although I had a vague sense of what we might encounter in Israel only two years after the Six-Day War and the occupation of the West Bank, Gaza, and the Golan Heights, nothing prepared me for the realities of Cyprus. Fresh from a few carefree days on the golden beaches of several Greek islands, we arrived in Nicosia expecting more of the same.9 We headed to Paphos, an ancient city at the western end of the island, near the spot where, according to Greek mythology, Aphrodite sprang fully formed from the sea foam. On the way, we passed through the British Sovereign Base of Akrotiri, allotted to London in the negotiations that created the independent Republic of Cyprus in 1960. What a contrast to the surrounding parched, late-summer landscape! We saw long stretches of green grass and carefully manicured playing fields, flower beds, and trees, with neat bungalows stretching along the roadside. It seemed so unreal, as if a piece of England had dropped from the sky.
While traveling on a Greek Cypriot bus, I noticed that whenever we passed through a Turkish Cypriot enclave, only sullen faces stared up at us. At one point, I noticed (with some amazement) the long barrel of a dug-in, camouflaged artillery piece pointing in our direction from a nearby hillside. No sooner had we arrived at our destination and checked into the hotel than several plainclothes detectives, Greek Cypriots, visited us. They checked our passports and
