as a mock opposition party to Atatürk's Republican Peoples
Party to give 'democracy' in Turkey a better image. Ahmet
Ağaoğlu (Agayev) was one of the Serbet Fırka's leaders but
the party only lasted a few months (August-November 1930).
Subsequently, Ağaoğlu moved from Ankara to Istanbul to
teach at Darülfünun University. Later, in 1933 he put out the
essentially opposition newspaper 'Akın' (May-September 1933).
The following story of Ağaoğlu's conversation about 'Akın'
with Atatürk at a dinner at Dolmabahçe is from his son Samet
Ağaoğlu's book "Babamın Arkadaşları" (My Father's Friends)
pp 135-138.//
"The Serbest Fırka (Free Party) adventure began. From the first day,
my mother said that this initiative would not succeed but my father
countered that “Gazi (Atatürk) sincerely wants this, so that being
the case, how could it not be successful?” My mother just shook
her head and replied “However sincere he (Atatürk) is, events will
proceed otherwise, or those who fear their positions and futures
will be jeapardized will turn Gazi against you with tricks,
imputations and slander.”
Alas, the Serbest Fırka was dissolved in just three months and my
father then realized he had been duped. Again, my mother was
proven right.
Newspaper lauding the Serbest Fırka's inauguration,
at Atatürk's urging, with a picture of Fethi Okyar, the
party's leader, in August 1930.
After the last act of the Serbest Fırka play, my father decided to
move to Istanbul (from Ankara) because my mother’s health
demanded it. My father was given a professorship at Darülfunun
University and we settled into a big old house in Nişantaşı. My
mother’s illness got worse and her treatment was unavailing, as her
condition deteriorated each day. Nevertheless, she stayed busy
with my father’s life from her sickbed. Gradually, our living room
began to fill with Istanbul’s renowned intellectuals and artists,
poets, musicians, writers, historians - all talking and arguing there
till morning. This latest milieu of my father’s became a setting
where the ideas of that era could be discussed freely.
One day two visitors came, one of whom my father didn’t know.
He had known the other one for some time. They spoke for a few
hours and afterwards my father said to my mother “Sitâre, let’s sell
a few things, like these old carpets. I want to open a newspaper.
What do you think?” The carpets in question were from my
mother’s dowry and they had been witness to our entire life.
They were colorfully embroidered works of art but, nevertheless,
she said to my father “OK Ahmet. But who are you putting this
newspaper out with?” My father chuckled and said “with the
visitors who were just here.” My mother asked “do you know
them?” and my father replied “I know one of them and the other
one looks like a nice fellow.” My mother took my father’s hand,
and said in a weak voice “Ahmet, don’t go into business with
people you don’t know well.”
In any event, this is how my father’s last newspaper “Akın” came
about. A few months passed and one night Atatürk, who was in
Istanbul, summoned my father to Dolmabahçe for dinner. It had
been quite a while since they had seen each other. After the Serbest
Fırka adventure, my father was just about the only one of that
party’s leadership who had not returned to the Peoples Party or to
government service. For some elements of the government
leadership, Akın newspaper was considered a voice of opposition.
For this reason, my father was anxious about how he would be
received by Atatürk this time around. After he returned home (from
Dolmabahçe) a bit after midnight, my father went to my mother,
who had been bedridden for weeks. In all the time she had known
my father, she had hardly ever seen his face as sad and distressed
as it was this night.
Before my father could say a word, she said “It didn’t go well, did it?”
In reply, my father said “Yes, it didn’t go well. At first the Paşa
flattered me and sat me down next to him. There were other
(unnamed) men and women there. At one point, he told someone
to get copies of Akın newspaper and he had the articles read one by
one, asking me what each of the articles meant. I explained that all
the articles were social critiques that showed the good and bad of
our society.
Flyer announcing the imminent publication of 'Akın'
newspaper in May 1933.
Hearing this, Atatürk motioned to someone (unnamed) and asked
“Sir, if a person is both a professor at Darülfünun and, at
the same time, criticizes the existing power, can this produce good
results?” In response, Atatrük’s collocutor said “this is certainly not
right.” Atatürk asked this same question to some of the others and
just about all of them gave him the same answer, except one
(unnamed) gentleman, who said “if the regime and the power are
strong, then there is no harm is someone teaching at Darülfünun and
being in opposition simultaneously. If, though, the regime and the
power are weak, then there are dangers in this.” Atatürk turned to me
and said “See what they say?” In response I said “My Paşa, everyone
can think as they please. What can I do.?”
Suddenly, Atatürk said in a loud voice “so it seems that you won’t
stoop to answer them. Alright, then I’ll say it: one cannot be a
professor at Darülfünun and in the opposition at the same time.”
Then he added “Let’s see. Where did you get the money to put this
newspaper out?” At that point I realized the depth of the horrible
trap I had fallen into. I said “My Paşa, I decided that I would put
out the Akın newspaper and that when my articles began to be read
I would close it down. But since there is some doubt about this, as
long as you don’t send your inspectors and reveal with an
investigation where I got the money and how I found it, I won’t
close the newspaper.” Hearing this, Gazi cried “So you’re defying
me! And you’re forgetting that you’re a ‘sığıntı’ (a refugee from
elsewhere - in this case, from Azerbaijan)!”
My mother took my father’s hand and said “Atatürk said that to you?”
In a shaking voice, my father replied “Yes, Sitâre, that’s what he said
and in that moment I was filled with the greatest sadness of my life.
I said to him “My Paşa, since I was 18-years-old I have served the
Turkish nation. In that time many people have used this word
(‘sığıntı’) toward me but I always laughed it off. But now, hearing
the same word from your own mouth, it hurts me in the core of my
soul. Because the others were small men. You, though, are the man
who saved this nation. On the one hand, you put forth the theory that
the whole world came from the Turkish race and the Turkish nation,
and yet on the other hand, you can call someone, a genuine Turk,
who has come to successfully help protect the freedom of the Turks,
from a purely Turkish and, unfortunately, captive nation just two hours
on the other side of the border, a ‘sığıntı’. What a terrible
contradiction this is. Why has God condemned me to see you in such
an antithetical abyss? “
“Upon saying these words I got up and an unexpected thing happened
– Atatürk got up, too, and hugged me around the neck, saying 'you
misunderstood me. I didn’t mean to say that.' Then he began to kiss
my face and my eyes. But I could not remain and without saying
another word I left.” My mother took my father’s hands to her lips
and said "Don’t feel bad, Ahmet. You gave a good response. Gazi is
a great man and he loves you. The malicious instigations of a few
people around him made him say that.”
A few weeks later Akın newspaper closed. Soon afterwards, my
father’s professorship at Darülfünun was taken from him, as well.
At that time, a friend of my father who was very close to Atatürk told
him that one of his (Akın) partners had regularly informed on the
private conversations and inner workings of the newspaper. My
mother had been proven right again. On the evening of 16 October
1933 my mother passed away."
//Ed. Note: Ahmet Ağaoğlu passed away in Istanbul on
19 May 1939, coincidentally the 20th anniversary of Atatürk's
landing at Samsun, which marked the beginning of the
Turkish independence movement.//
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