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Beyond Gallipoli: New Perspectives on Anzac


Chapter 2



Remembering Johnnies, Mehmets and the Armenians

Jenny Macleod and Gizem Tongo

Those heroes that shed their blood, and lost their lives … You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore, rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side, here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries … wipe away your tears. Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well.1

This magnanimous and heart-rending elegy, attributed to the founder of the Turkish Republic Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, is probably the most well-known quotation to commemorate the Gallipoli Campaign. It has been carved on many war memorials, quoted in various commemoration events, and, more than any other, it has ‘spoken’ for the post-war political relationship between Turkey and Australia. This essay uses this ‘speech’ as a window on to the changing relations among the belligerent countries involved in Gallipoli, and hence the intersection between commemoration, national identity, and international relations.

From George Mosse’s war memorials as ‘shrines of national worship’ to Benedict Anderson’s deliberately absurd Tomb of the Unknown Marxist, the link between the commemoration of death in war and nation building is well established.2 Yet the role of commemoration in diplomacy has received less attention.3 Australia has used the commemoration of Gallipoli on Anzac Day as a means to develop its own distinct national identity, whilst the memory of the campaign has played a lesser but still significant role in the forging of the Republic of Turkey’s new identity. Nor was it the only example of a new identity being forged through memory of the campaign. Over time, these two separate nation-building endeavours have interacted such that a new powerful meaning for the campaign has emerged which has significant implications for the two countries’ international relations.

This transnational approach mirrors developments in the historiography of the First World War which has seen a shift from a national framework of analysis to a transnational one.4 A crucial precursor to this has been a broadening and deepening of scholarship, such that the history of nations, empires and peoples beyond those of Britain, France and Germany has thus developed. Thus in military history, the work of Edward Erickson, Mesut Uyar and others have brought the possibility of not only dissecting the defeat at Gallipoli in terms of Allied errors, but of understanding the victory at Gallipoli in terms of Ottoman skill and efficiency.5 Similarly, in the realms of the cultural history of the campaign, a field long dominated by the examination of Australia’s passionate commitment to remembering the Anzacs,6 there are now the first analogous works which examine Turkish memory in a scholarly fashion.7 Building on these works it is now possible to trace the transnational flow of ideas between countries.8 It will be seen that in the commemoration of war, this can be a powerful tool for reconciliation, but can also lead to tensions and occlusions.

This essay uses Kemal’s ‘speech’ as a ‘lieu de mémoire’ for Turkish and Australian commemoration in order to explore this phenomenon.9 It has become the single most important interpretation of the campaign where an international audience gathers to remember Gallipoli. It is a repository of sacred meaning, an ‘ode’, and thus a ‘secular prayer’.10 Three particular aspects of Pierre Nora’s observations on lieux de mémoire will be explored. (1) Nora suggested that ‘Memory is always suspect in the eyes of history, whose true mission is to demolish it, to repress it.’11 The clash of these approaches to the past became apparent when historians began to query the provenance of the speech. (2) Memory ‘is subject to the dialectic of remembering and forgetting, unconscious of the distortions to which it is subject, vulnerable in various ways to appropriation and manipulation, and capable of lying dormant for long periods only to be suddenly reawakened.’12 It will be seen that Kemal’s speech has not always had the prominence it currently enjoys, mysteriously having been forgotten for decades. (3) Following on from this is the theme of silence. Memory ‘accommodates only those facts that suit it.’ 13 A conscious choice has been made to exclude the Armenian genocide from the remembrance of events. And both Australian and Turkish states have been complicit in this process, as have historians, who actively and consciously chose to give voice to a story of honourable fighting in Gallipoli, and to silence the shameful history of mass deportations and killings of the Armenians. Robert Manne noted this disjunction in Gallipoli’s historiography in 2007.14 How has this come about? It is rooted both in the practice of history – we historians tend to work within distinct and discrete fields – and in the way that silence, as Jay Winter explains, ‘is socially regulated, socially constructed, socially preserved, and socially destroyed. All societies have spaces of silence.’15 An early version of this essay was presented as the keynote lecture at an international congress at Çanakkale Onsekiz Mart University, in November 2014, and the occasion and its aftermath illustrates Winter’s point. Facing a grand lecture hall filled with local officials, military officers, academics and students, and preceded by speeches in Turkish, the political stance of which, in the absence of a translator, she could not discern, Jenny Macleod made a last minute decision to omit the section of the lecture which referred to the genocide. Social anxiety had prompted silence. Later the organiser of the conference declined to include the full text of the keynote in the conference proceedings because of ‘domestic politics.’16 Now, reconfigured and updated here, this essay offers an exploration of Kemal’s speech placed in the context of the broader commemorative arrangements of the two countries as a richly suggestive lieu de memoire that will enable reflections on the nature of history, memory, and the uses of the past.

History, memory and Kemal’s ‘speech’

In his Dawn Service address at Anzac Cove in 2015, Australia’s Prime Minister Tony Abbott remarked, ‘Gallipoli shaped modern Turkey as much as it forged modern Australia and New Zealand’.17 This is not quite true, although all these nations emerged from the demise of empires, the Ottoman and British respectively. In the case of Australia, as a Dominion, it was already on the peaceful path towards self-government expected of Britain’s white settler colonies in 1915. But in emotional terms, it is fair to say that the memory of Gallipoli has provided a means to break the bonds of Britishness. A new national identity was forged through the Anzac legend, which ascribed distinctive national qualities to Australian soldiers, and over time ‘Anzac’ has acquired the status of what Ken Inglis has identified as a ‘civil religion’.18 By contrast, the Republic of Turkey emerged from the War of Independence (1919-22) that overturned the punitive Treaty of Sèvres imposed upon the defeated Ottoman Empire at the end of the First World War. Mustafa Kemal became the country’s first President and adopted the name, Atatürk (Father of the Turks). Kemal had been a senior officer at Gallipoli, playing a decisive role at two key moments, but it was the War of Independence that made his name. Until his death in 1938, Atatürk led his country in an ambitious modernisation programme which imposed a homogenous, secular and mono-lingual Turkish identity in place of the formerly multi-ethnic, multi-religious and multi-lingual Ottoman culture.

There was, however, a dark aspect to this programme. In 1919, Enver, Talat, and Cemal Paşas had been sentenced to death in absentia by the Ottoman Special Military Tribunal for several war crimes, including the massacres of Armenians and Greeks.19 But with the foundation of the Turkish Republic, there was no longer any such willingness to face up to what had happened in 1915. Indeed, a significant part of the republican project was to monopolise the authority to write the new nation’s history through the Turkish Historical Society. Its work obliterated the history of non-Muslims, including Ottoman Armenians, and failed to acknowledge the Armenian genocide. Meanwhile, Gallipoli was remembered for the stoicism of the ordinary Turkish soldier Mehmetçik, and for the heroic role of Kemal.20 Thus, denialism and a close attention to the uses of the past have played a key role in the formation of the Turkish Republic. As Vedica Kant has noted, ‘Atatürk’s role in the victory at Canakkale has been so successfully established as a foundational cornerstone of the republic that it simply cannot be removed from the historical narrative’.21 Thus despite the advent of the Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, AKP), a socially conservative party of the Right with Islamic roots which has worked to roll back some elements of Kemalism, Kemal’s ‘speech’ has continued to be used in the commemoration of Gallipoli. In 2010, for instance, the then Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan quoted it and then continued in a more belligerent tone, ‘this noble nation and the noble army of this noble nation showed their affection, generosity, hospitality, and friendship to the soldiers who had come from distant lands to kill them, hence this nation is a great nation and its army is a great army.’22

Perhaps as a result of its ubiquity, this vital lieu de memoire for Gallipoli has been subject to exacting questions from historians about its provenance.23 From the tortuous web of evidence it seems clear that Atatürk did not deliver this speech himself. Attention then turns to whether or not his Interior Minister, Şükrü Kaya, delivered the speech on Atatürk’s behalf in 1934. The main source for this was a 1953 interview with Kaya conducted by the Turkish journalist Yekta Ragıp Önen.24 There are no other sources to corroborate this story. This message to the former invaders was not mentioned in an otherwise closely detailed account of 1934’s only pilgrimage by foreigners, the Duchess of Richmond cruise.25 Nor did the newspapers of 1934 report the speech, although they did relay a briefer message with similar sentiments. ‘The Ghazi’s Message’ was reported as:

The Gallipoli landing and fighting on the Peninsula showed to the world the heroism of all who shed their blood there, and how heartrending for their nations were the losses this struggle caused.26

He had issued a similar, lengthier message in 1931 to the ‘Worthy Foemen’ of the Anzacs.27 The sentiment of the ‘speech’ is thus in keeping with other messages issued by Kemal about the Anzacs. Nonetheless, the text of the ‘speech’ can only be reliably traced as far back as 1953. A translation of it was relayed to an RSL delegation in 1960 – note the absence of any ‘Johnnies’:

Oh heroes, those who spilt their blood on this land, you are sleeping side-by-side in close embrace with our Mehmets.

Oh mothers of distant lands, who sent their sons to battle here, stop your tears. Your sons are in our bosoms.

They are serenely in peace. Having fallen here now, they have become our own sons.28

At neither point did it gain much attention. Thereafter, the ‘speech’ surfaces once more in the late 1970s.

A 1978 Turkish pamphlet relates the story of how it became the subject of correspondence between Uluğ İğdemir, General Director of the Turkish Historical Society and Alan J. Campbell, Chairman of the Gallipoli Fountains of Honour Committee in Brisbane.29 The words that were ultimately engraved on the plaque at the memorial are the now familiar text, including the phrase about ‘Johnnies and Mehmets’. Controversy rages as to whether this phrase was ‘concocted in 1977-8’ by İğdemir and Campbell,30 or whether it is merely a reasonable translation of the sense and sentiment of the 1953 text.31 In many ways this is a classic example of the difference between the simplicity of a reconciliatory memory versus the dogged insistence on fact and evidence of history. Why did it not become popular sooner? It could have been taken up in 1960, but instead struck a chord in 1977–8. Since its use in Brisbane, Kemal’s speech has been inscribed on memorials in Anzac Cove, Wellington, Albany and Canberra (all 1985), Adelaide (2008), Melbourne (2015), and Sydney (2015). It has been quoted in four Prime Ministerial speeches (1990, 2008, 2010, 2013), in museums and websites, and has inspired an orchestral composition.32 As such, it maps perfectly on to the idea of the second memory boom from the late 1970s,33 and more specifically on to the contours of the Anzac revival.34

Memorial diplomacy and Kemal’s speech

It seems more than coincidental that Kaya’s interview was published at the same moment that memorial diplomacy got under way. During the Korean War when Turkey, having aligned with the West, fought alongside British, French, Australian and New Zealand soldiers in the United Nations forces, a variety of warm words and gestures were made. In 1953, Milliyet newspaper wrote in its Çanakkale week coverage (ie commemoration of 18 March) about ‘our present very valuable allies and beloved friends the English and French naval and army forces … we laid the foundations of our today’s friendship and alliance 38 years ago in the Çanakkale and Gallipoli battles.’35 From 1953, Turkish representatives started to attend Anzac Day overseas, and there were low key demonstrations of friendship in connection with Anzac Day that were used as soft diplomacy to cement the new NATO alliance.36 Turkey’s small scale commemorations of Gallipoli were attended by larger crowds than previously,37 and nationalist students initiated a bid to build a monument for the Çanakkale martyrs in 1952.38 This 41 metre-tall memorial overlooks the narrows. Amongst the donors were New Zealand veterans and in the accompanying letter, the New Zealand Prime Minister wrote to his Turkish counterpart, Adnan Menderes, saying that ‘In Korea Turkish soldiers displayed the same heroism and solidity as they had done in Gallipoli’.39 In return, the Turkish government acquiesced to a request from veterans in Ashburn, New Zealand for some stones from Gallipoli with which to build a memorial of their own.40 During the fundraising process, there was a keen appreciation of the mismatch in the memorials on the peninsula. As the Milliyet newspaper commented in 1958, ‘Çanakkale is full of memorials, yet these memorials have been erected for British and French soldiers who were defeated by the heroic Mehmetçik’.41

The Martyrs’ Memorial was completed in 1960, nonetheless, it belatedly makes an important point. Henceforth, the dominant memorial on Turkish soil marked Turkish victory.42 This ‘dialogical memorialization’43 – memorials that are built in a dialogue with each other became particularly apparent from the mid 1980s. In 1985, the Turkish government unveiled the Kabatepe Ari Burnu Beach memorial with Kemal’s words and officially renamed the part of their territory known as Ari Burnu as Anzac Cove, a name that had been in unofficial usage in Turkey since at least 1957.44 This memorial was one of 20 Turkish monuments built in a spate of activity during the 1980s.45 Then, in 1990, the 75th anniversary of Anzac day was attended by international political leaders, and at substantial cost to the Australian government, a delegation of Australian veterans. The commemorations were an opportunity for high-level political meetings and the friendship between Turkey and her ‘old enemies’ was a repeated theme. Thereafter, the memory of Gallipoli became increasingly prominent in Turkish public life. To give but two examples: the foundation in 1992 of Çanakkale Onsekiz Mart University – that is a university named after the victory, and the launch of a new 500,000 Turkish Lira note on 18 March 1993 which featured the image of the Çanakkale Memorial on its reverse.

This is the other side of the story of the Anzac revival. In 1990, Anzac, Australia’s civil religion, was born again and since then Australia has demonstrated a strongly-felt possessiveness about Gallipoli which has required ever greater cooperation with Turkey to facilitate access to the peninsula. The Kemal ‘speech’ has no doubt been useful in smoothing this path, even whilst it also provided a meaning for the campaign that allies, enemies, militarists and pacifists could all appreciate. Thus Australia’s Prime Minister, Bob Hawke, in an eve of Anzac Day speech at a dinner hosted by the Turkish Prime Minister Yıldırım Akbulut in Ankara used Kemal’s words and the memorial developments to turn on the diplomatic charm. Later at Anzac Cove, however, he up-ended Kemal’s sentiments (that the fallen ‘have become our sons as well’) to effectively assert that the sacred ground had become our land as well: ‘this place is in one sense a part of Australia’.46

Since Hawke’s visit in 1990, three other Australian Prime Ministers have addressed the Dawn Service at Anzac Cove: John Howard in 2005, Julia Gillard in 2012 and Tony Abbott in 2015. Gillard used her speech to praise the honourable generosity shown to their former foes:

The Turkish honoured our fallen and embraced them as their own sons.

And later they did something rare in the pages of history – they named this place in honour of the vanquished as Anzac Cove.

We therefore owe the Republic of Turkey a profound debt.47

From 1996 onwards, Turkish-Australians unofficially joined in the Melbourne parade, a development officially endorsed by the RSL in 2006. The involvement of other former enemies, notably German and Japanese ex-soldiers remained unthinkable.48 Gillard went on to announce that the centenary year of 2015 would be named ‘the Year of Turkey’ in Australia and ‘the Year of Australia’ in Turkey.49 The President of the ACT, RSL branch, John King, invited the Turkish military attaché to march on his right and colead the march on Anzac Day 2015.50 At Lone Pine on Anzac Day, Abbott remarked, ‘The care taken of this place, reflects the foe that is now a friend. So today I salute a noble adversary and I thank the Republic of Turkey for accepting our sons with theirs.’51

It is important to acknowledge, however, that these close relations also placed constraints upon what can be said about Turkey. In May 2012, the New South Wales Parliament passed a motion recognising the Armenian genocide. As a result, politicians from New South Wales were told that they would not be given visas to attend the centenary commemorations at Gallipoli. A statement from the Turkish Foreign Ministry echoed the language of Kemal’s speech to explain their response:

These persons who try to damage the spirit of Çanakkale /Gallipoli will also not have their place in the Çanakkale ceremonies where we commemorate our sons lying side by side in our soil.52

This was in keeping with a broader plan to use memorial diplomacy to enforce silence about the genocide. In 2011, the then Turkish Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu outlined his ambition for the centenary of the Gallipoli landings:

We are going to introduce the year of 2015 to the whole world. We will do so not as the anniversary of a genocide as some people have claimed and slandered, but as the anniversary of the glorious resistance of a nation, the anniversary of the resistance at Çanakkale.53

Thus when the centenary came around Turkey organised an expanded programme of Gallipoli commemorations, including an event scheduled on 24 April – a date without meaning in regard to the campaign. Invitations were sent to 102 countries, including the Armenian President, Serzh Sargsyan, who angrily noted the attempt to overshadow his own country’s commemoration of the start of the genocide:

Alas, Turkey continues its traditional policy of denialism. Year by year, ‘improving’ its tools of history distortion, this time Turkey marks the anniversary of the Battle of Gallipoli on April 24 for the first time, while it began on March 18, 1915 and lasted till late January, 1916. Furthermore, allies’ land-campaign – Gallipoli land battle – took place on April 25, 1915. What purpose does it serve if not a simple-minded goal to distract attention of the international community from the events dedicated to the centennial of the Armenian Genocide?54

In some regards the plan worked. The Turkish President, Erdoğan, was reported as saying ‘Thank God, 20 heads of state came to ours, while two went to theirs’. In fact 17 heads of state attended the Gallipoli commemorations in Turkey, while four went to Yerevan. As journalist Cengiz Çandar put it, ‘in the contest of the “G-words,” Gallipoli won over the Genocide’.55 In particular, the plan to enforce silence had worked in the country most susceptible to pressure. In advance of the centenaries, Australia’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, Julie Bishop confirmed that the Australian government does not recognise the events in the Ottoman Empire as ‘genocide’.56 There could be no chance of jeopardising its ability to hold its commemorations at Gallipoli.

And yet, despite Turkey’s efforts to distract attention away from it, the Armenian genocide was more prominently remembered and discussed around the world in April 2015 than ever before following Pope Francis’ use of the word ‘genocide’, a vote on the subject by the European Parliament,57 and Kim Kardashian’s visit to the capital of Armenia.58 Memorial diplomacy as a tool to enforce silence thus has its limits. It has less effect on individuals or organisations who have no stake in the diplomatic relationship. Thus in Sydney the Armenian Genocide Centenary National Commemoration Evening on 24 April 2015 was held, but Australia’s Treasurer, Joe Hockey, who is of Armenian descent withdrew from his plan to speak on the occasion.59 Earlier in his career he had spoken passionately about the genocide in the Australian Parliament, but now as a government minister it seems diplomatic considerations had come into play.

In Turkey itself, the state’s power to control collective memory and enforce the denialist position has been challenged in recent years. A growing number of Turkish intellectuals and scholars, including Taner Akçam, Uğur Üngör, Fatma Müge Göçek, and the Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk, have opened the debate on this once taboo topic. This has fed into and in turn been empowered by growing support from individuals and human rights groups who have organised conferences and commemorations every 24 April. In 2015, the centenary commemoration in Istanbul, organised by various international and Turkish human rights organisations such as the Turkish Human Rights Association IHD and DurDe (Say Stop to Racism and Nationalism), was attended by thousands of Turkish people as well as thousands of people coming from various parts of the diaspora.

In her essay ‘The History Question: Who Owns the Past?’ the Australian historian Inga Clendinnen writes, ‘The Turks, we were told, were honourable enemies,’ but she continues, ‘remembering the Armenians, we flinch.’60 In this Clendinnen is right but incomplete. During the war, Australians were well informed about the massacres. The newspaper coverage included a report from Charles Bean where he wrote, ‘The Turks, as the world knows, are at the present moment engaged-in an endeavour to wipe out the Armenian nation before they are stopped.’61 But subsequently Australia (as elsewhere) chose to forget the Armenians just as Bean did in the poem he inserted in The Anzac Book about ‘Abdul’: ‘though your name be black as ink. / For murder and rapine / [here at Gallipoli] / You’ve played the gentleman’.62 In the Ottoman Empire, there was a brief window after the ending of military censorship and particularly following the escape of the CUP leaders from the country, when the Ottoman press became fiercely critical of the CUP and its Armenian policies. But with the founding of the Republic, the memory of the Armenians was silenced. One hundred years later, the Gallipoli campaign still is one of the most important collective memories for Turkey and the most important one for Australia, but this history is neither a single nor a simple one. Like every society, both Australia and Turkey have spaces of silences from their history. The reconciliatory words of Kemal have been used to build warm relations through memorial diplomacy, but the dark underbelly of celebrating the Johnnies and the Mehmets has been the forgetting of the Armenians.


1 Inscription on the Kabatepe Ari Burnu Beach Memorial which was unveiled on 25 April 1985 on the occasion of the official renaming of Ari Burnu as Anzac Cove.

2 George L. Mosse, ‘National Cemeteries and National Revival: The Cult of the Fallen Soldiers in Germany’, Journal of Contemporary History 14:1 (1979): 16; Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, 3rd ed. (London: Verso, 1983), 9–10.

3 For example, Matthew Graves, ‘Memorial Diplomacy in Franco-Australian Relations’, in Nation, Memory and Great War Commemoration eds. Shanti Sumartojo and Ben Wellings (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2014), 169–88.

4 Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, The Great War in History: Debates and Controversies, 1914 to the Present, Studies in the Social and Cultural History of Modern Warfare (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 193–198.

5 Edward J. Erickson, Ordered to Die: A History of the Ottoman Army in the First World War (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 2001); Edward J. Erickson, Gallipoli: The Ottoman Campaign (Barnsley: Pen & Sword Military, 2010); Stanford J. Shaw, The Ottoman Empire in World War I, Volume I: Prelude to War (Ankara: Turkish Historical Society, 2006); Stanford J. Shaw, The Ottoman Empire in World War I, Volume II: Triumph and Tragedy, November 1914-July 1916 (Ankara: Turkish Historical Society, 2008); Mesut Uyar, The Ottoman Defence against the Anzac Landing: 25 April 1915 (Sydney: Big Sky Publishing, 2015); Harvey Broadbent, Gallipoli: The Turkish Defence (Carlton, Vic: Melbourne University Publishing, 2015).

6 Amongst a vast literature these works stand out: Alistair Thomson, Anzac Memories: Living with the Legend (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1994); Kenneth Stanley Inglis, Sacred Places: War Memorials in the Australian Landscape (Carlton South, Victoria: Melbourne University Press, 1998); Bruce Scates, Return to Gallipoli: Walking the Battlefields of the Great War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Marilyn Lake et al., What’s Wrong With Anzac? The Militarisation of Australian History (Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 2010); Carolyn Holbrook, Anzac: The Unauthorised Biography (Sydney: New South Publishing, 2014).

7 Pheroze Unwalla, ‘Re-Imagining Gallipoli: Imperial Pasts and Foreign Presence in a History of Turkish National Remembrance, 1923-2013’, (PhD, SOAS, University of London, 2014); Vedica Kant, ‘Çanakkale’s Children: The Politics of Remembering the Gallipoli Campaign in Contemporary Turkey’, in Remembering the First World War, ed. Bart Ziino (London: Routledge, 2015), 146-165; Jenny Macleod, Gallipoli, Great Battles Series (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). Macleod’s chapter on Turkish memory was written with Gizem Tongo.

8 George Frederick Davis, ‘Anzac Day Meanings and Memories: New Zealand, Australian and Turkish Perspectives on a Day of Commemoration in the Twentieth Century’, (PhD, University of Otago, 2008); George Davis, ‘Turkey’s Engagement with Anzac Day, 1948-2000’, War & Society 28:2 (2009): 133–61; Roger Hillman, ‘A Transnational Gallipoli?’, Australian Humanities Review, 51 (2011): 25–42.For a transnational history of the war, see J. M. Winter, ed.,The Cambridge History of the First World War, 3 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014).

9 Pierre Nora, ‘From Lieux de Mémoire to Realms of Memory’, in Realms of Memory: Rethinking the French Past Vol. 1 Conflicts and Divisions, ed. Pierre Nora (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), xvii.

10 Catherine Simpson, ‘From Ruthless Foe to National Friend: Turkey, Gallipoli and Australian Nationalism’, Media International Australia, no. 137 (2010): 58–66; Bronwyn Lea, ‘Lest We Forget: Binyon’s Ode of Remembrance’, The Conversation, 26 April 2013,

11 Pierre Nora, ‘General Introduction: Between Memory and History’, in Realms of Memory, ed. Pierre Nora, 3.

12 Nora, ‘General Introduction: Between Memory and History’, 3.

13 Nora, ‘General Introduction: Between Memory and History’, 3.

14 Robert Manne, ‘A Turkish Tale: Gallipoli and the Armenian Genocide’, The Monthly, February 2007, [Accessed 5 February 2014].

15 Suzan Meryem Kalaycı, Interview with Jay Winter’, Tarih: Graduate History Journal of Boğaziçi University, Issue: 1 (2009), 34. See also, Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston: Beacon Press, 1995), 48.

16 Private email to Jenny Macleod, 28 May 2015.

17 Davis, ‘Anzac Day Meanings and Memories’, 190–8. The Hon Tony Abbott MP, Prime Minister of Australia, ‘2015 Dawn Service, Gallipoli’, 25 April 2015. Available online: [Accessed 6 May 2015].

18 Kenneth Stanley Inglis, ‘Anzac, the Substitute Religion’, in Observing Australia 1959 to 1999, ed. Craig Wilcox (Carlton South, Vic: Melbourne University Press, 1999), 61–70; Inglis, Sacred Places, 458–63.

19 For the most comprehensive study on the subject, see, Vahakn N. Dadrian and Taner Akçam, Judgement at Istanbul: The Armenian Genocide Trials (New York: Berghahn Books, 2011).

20 For the belated development of the idea of Kemal as the heroic ‘Man of Destiny’ in response to initiatives in London and Sydney, see Ayhan Aktar, ‘Mustafa Kemal at Gallipoli: The Making of a Saga, 1921-1932’ in Australia and the Great War: Identity, Memory and Mythology, Michael JK Walsh and Andrekos Varnava eds. (Melbourne University Press, 2016), 149-171.

21 Kant, ‘Çanakkale’s Children’, 159.

22 ‘Erdoğan’ın, Çanakkale Zaferi’nin Yıldönümü Konuşması’, Cumhuriyet, 18 March 2010, available online:

23 Adrian Jones, ‘A Note on Ataturk’s Words About Gallipoli’, History Australia 2, no. 1 (2004), doi:10.2104/ha040010; Davis, ‘Anzac Day Meanings and Memories’; David Stephens, ‘Gold, Rum but No Sign of Ataturk’s Minister at Anzac, April-May 1934’, Honest History, 1 December 2015, Cengiz Özakıncı, ‘1915 Çanakkale Savaşı Anıtlarına Kazınan ‘Conilerle, Mehmetçikler Arasında Fark Yoktur’ Sözleri Atatürk’e Ait Değil’, Bütün Dünya, March-April 2015. Translated into English as ‘The words ‘There is no difference between the Mehmets and the Johnnies’ engraved on the 1915 Gallipoli monuments do not belong to Atatürk’, Honest History (available online:; Anthony Pym, ‘On the passage of transcendent messages: Johnnies and Mehmets’ (version 2.3, September 28 2015), an unpublished essay, available as a link within ‘Gold, Rum’, Honest History.

24 Şükrü Kaya, interview by Yekta Rakıp Ören, Dünya, 10 November 1953, 5.

25 Stanton Hope, ‘Gallipoli Revisited: An Account of the Duchess of Richmond Pilgrimage-Cruise’, n.d..

26 The Times, 26 April 1934, 13; ‘Former Enemy’, Sydney Morning Herald, 26 April 1934. See also George Davis, ‘Turkey’s Engagement’, 136–7, which notes a similar message to a Brisbane newspaper in 1931, and the obscurity of the 1934 speech.

27 ‘Worthy Foemen’, Daily Mail, Brisbane, 25 April 1931, cited in Davis, 211–12.

28 Davis, ‘Anzac Day Meanings’, 215, fn 99. No specific source is cited for this quotation. Pym, ‘On the passage of transcendent messages’, 16.

29 Uluğ İğdemir, ‘Atatürk ve Anzaklar/Atatürk and the Anzacs’, Türk Tarih Kurumu yayınları. XX. dizi (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 1978).

30 Stephens, ‘Gold, Rum but No Sign of Ataturk’s Minister at Anzac’.

31 Pym, ‘On the passage of transcendent messages’, 19.

32 ‘Tracking Ataturk’, Honest History, available online: [Accessed 3 March 2016].

33 Winter, Remembering War, 26.

34 Jenny Macleod, ‘The Fall & Rise of Anzac Day: 1965 & 1990 Compared’, War & Society 20:1 (2001): 149–168.

35 Milliyet, 18 March 1953, 2.

36 Davis, ‘Turkey’s Engagement’, 139.

37 Milliyet states that around 500 university students came to the city for the commemoration ceremony. ‘18 Mart Çanakkale Zaferinin Yıldönümü,’ Milliyet, 18 March 1952, 7.

38 ‘Çanakkale’de Bir Mehmetçik Abidesi Yaptırılıyor,’ Milliyet, 5 May 1952, 2.

39 ‘Yeni Zelandalı Eski Muhariplerin Çanakkale Abidesi İçin Teberuu,’ Milliyet, 20 September 1958, 3.

40 ‘Çanakkale’den Yeni Zelanda’ya Taş Götürülecek,’ Milliyet, 9 January 1959, 2.

41 ‘Çanakkale’de Türk Şehitlği: Yok,’ Milliyet, 9 February 1958, 1.

42 John McQuilton, ‘Gallipoli as Contested Commemorative Space’, in Gallipoli: Making History, ed. Jenny Macleod (London: Frank Cass, 2004), 150–4.

43 Brad West, ‘Dialogical Memorialization, International Travel and the Public Sphere: A Cultural Sociology of Commemoration and Tourism at the First World War Gallipoli Battlefields’, Tourist Studies 10:3 (1 December 2010): 209–25.

44 Server Rıfat İskit, Resimli-Haritalı Mufassal Osmanlı Tarihi, 6 (1957), 35.

45 İskit, 143, fn 47.

46 Robert Hawke, ‘Speech by the Prime Minister at Official Dinner Given by Prime Minister Akbulut, Ankara, 23 April 1990’, (; ‘Speech by the Prime Minister Dawn Service, Gallipoli, 25 April 1990’, (

47 Julia Gillard, ‘Dawn Service, Gallipoli’, (

48 Daniel Hoare, ‘Turks Allowed to Join Anzac March’, in The World Today (2006). By 2004, Turks, Vietnamese, Koreans and Serbs had all joined in Sydney’s Anzac Day march. Tony Stephens, ‘Time Marches Past’, Sydney Morning Herald, 26 April 2004. The inclusion of campaigners seeking recognition of Aboriginal service and the Frontier Wars has proved more problematic, although an Aboriginal smoking ceremony was included in the commemoration at Lone Pine in August 2015.

49 Phillip Coorey, ‘Day Embodies the Nation’s Values, Says Gillard’, Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), 26 April 2012.

50 AAP, ‘Anzac Day Centenary: 2015 Year of Turkey in Australia,’ Australian Times, 27 April 2012.

51 ABC News, ‘Anzac Day 2015: PM Abbott delivers speech in Lone Pine’. 25 April 2015 [Video]. Available online: [Accessed 30 April 2015]. See also,

52 Hamish Boland-Rudder, ‘Canberra to Commemorate ‘Anzac Week’ in 2015’, Canberra Times (ACT), 8 June 2012.

53 ‘Davutoğlu: 12 Yıl Sonra Cihan Devletiyiz’, Takvim, 25 April 2011.

54 ‘President Serzh Sargsyan responds to Turkish President’s letter-invitation’, Armenpress, 16 January 2015. Available online: [Accessed 16 April 2015].

55 Cengiz Çandar, ‘In Turkey’s Battle of the G-words, Gallipoli Wins’, Al-Monitor, 27 April 2015. Available online: [Accessed 28 April 2015].

56 The Hon Julie Bishop MP, Minister for Foreign Affairs, to Mr Ertund Ozen, Australian Turkish Advocacy Alliance, 4 June 2014 [letter] Available online: [Accessed 12 March 2015].

57 Richard Spencer, ‘Turkey accuses EU of ‘enmity’ over 1915 Armenian genocide recognition’, Daily Telegraph, 17 April 2015. Available online: [Accessed 25 June 2015].

58 Ian Black, ‘Kim mania as Armenia catches up with the Kardashians’, The Guardian, 12 April 2015. Available online: [Accessed 16 April 2015].

59 Jared Owens, ‘Hockey abandons plans to speak at Armenian ‘genocide’ centenary ceremony’, The Australian, 24 April 2015. Available online: [Accessed 25 June 2015].

60 Inga Clendinnen, ‘The History Question: Who Owns the Past?’, Quarterly Essay, 23 (Melbourne, Vic: Black Inc, 2006), 13.

61 Captain Bean, ‘An Armenian’s Simple Talk: Horrible Story of Massacres,’ West Australian, 2 December 1915, 8.

62 The Anzac Book: Written and Illustrated in Gallipoli by the Men of Anzac (London; New York; Melbourne: Cassell, 1916).

Beyond Gallipoli: New Perspectives on Anzac

   by Raelene Frances and Bruce Scates