When it comes to acknowledging the Armenian genocide of 1915, Turkish Jews have navigated a delicate balance. It is impossible to understand this approach without a nuanced exploration of memory, political attitudes, and identity. With my colleagues Özgür Kaymak and Doğan Gürpınar, I have endeavored to do just that; earlier this year we published a study examining how Jews in Turkey have both engaged with historical tragedies and have also adopted the state ideology vis-à-vis the Armenians. We conducted in-depth interviews with fourteen members of the Turkish Jewish community. Our conversations illuminated the influence of the so-called Kayades mindset, which is characterized by discretion and alignment with official narratives. Indeed, it is a defining feature of Turkish Jewish identity in contrast with the so-called Avlaremoz mindset, which is characterized by engagement and solidarity with other marginalized groups. The Avlaremoz mindset challenges prevailing narratives, including official rhetoric denying historic Turkish mistreatment of Armenians. Below are key insights our research revealed.

Historical Context and Community Dynamics

The history of Jews in Turkey, much like that of the Armenians there, is marked by alternating phases of peaceful coexistence and conflict with the majority Turks. During the Ottoman Empire (1299–1922), both communities were classified as “protected minorities,” or dhimmis, as they came to be known in the fifteenth century. As non-Muslim subjects, most Armenians, who adhered to the Armenian Apostolic Church, were granted limited autonomy in exchange for paying a special tax in addition to other conditions. In the Empire, Armenians and Jews largely lived parallel lives, maintaining their own distinct communal, religious, and cultural practices. Overall, these two minority communities were not strong allies, nor were they antagonists. If their shared status fostered any sense of mutual understanding, it didn’t translate into a close-knit bond. Over centuries, Armenians and Jews in Turkey interacted mainly out of necessity, thriving independently and without nurturing any particular sense of fellowship.

The collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the rise of Turkish nationalism drastically changed the circumstances of Armenians and Jews alike. At the same time, the rise of Armenian nationalism and the pursuit of an independent state intensified hostility and conflict in the Empire. In 1915, the Ottoman government initiated a systematic campaign against its Armenian residents, beginning with the arrest and execution of more than 200 intellectuals and community leaders in Istanbul. This was followed by the administration of mass deportations.

Historian Mark Levene estimates that these events led to the deaths of between 600,000 and over a million Armenians; before 1915, the population was 1.5 million. While many historians and countries recognize what the Turks visited upon the Armenians as genocide, within Turkey, that term remains deeply contested. Indeed, the state officially denies this classification, and in its denial perpetuates a complex and often painful historical debate.

Official population statistics for non-Muslim minorities in modern Turkey have not been recorded since 1965. Nonetheless, current estimates suggest that around 14,500 Jews live in the country today, a marked decline from 1914, when census data from the Ottoman regime indicates that there were some 128,000 Jews, descended predominantly from those who fled the Iberian Peninsula in 1492. By 1965, their ranks had fallen to 38,000. A similar pattern is observed among the Armenian minority, whose numbers fell sharply from 1,204,000 in 1914 to 64,000 by 1965. For Turkish Jews, the struggle for acceptance in a predominantly Muslim country has been fraught with challenges. Discriminatory policies, such as the Wealth Tax of 1942, targeted Jews alongside other non-Muslim minorities, mainly Greeks and Armenians, fostering a collective sense of vulnerability. This shared experience didn’t produce significant solidarity between these cohorts; they continued to lead parallel lives, much as they had during the Ottoman period.

Experiences in modern Turkey shaped the collective identity and political strategies of Turkish Jewry, contributing to the emergence of the aforementioned distinct mindsets: the Kayades and the Avlaremoz. The Kayades mindset, with its strategic silence and go-along-to-get-along tactics, has prevailed in the Jewish community since the establishment of the Republic of Turkey in 1923. Rooted in the Ladino (Judeo-Spanish) word for “keeping quiet” or “minding one’s own business,” this approach reflects a pragmatic attempt to maintain a low profile and avoid conflict with the majority population. Adherents to this strategy emphasize their loyalty to the Turkish state, participating in official efforts to deny the Armenian genocide. Historian Eldad Ben Aharon has described the Turkish Jewish elite, who since the 1970s have lobbied against the recognition of the Armenian genocide in the United States, as informal ambassadors for Turkey. This stance may be seen as a protective reflex, born of necessity to preserve community safety and status, writes Ben Aharon; it has largely succeeded. In our research, a member of the Turkish Jewish community described this pragmatic approach as “a silent agreement: We will not interfere in state affairs, we will focus on doing well in trade and live quietly without creating trouble.”

In contrast, since the late 2010s, the Avlaremoz mindset has emerged particularly among younger Turkish Jews who advocate for a more vocal and critical engagement with contemporary political and social issues. Encapsulated in the Ladino phrase meaning “we will speak,” this perspective challenges the traditional silence and addresses broader issues of minority rights. The Avlaremoz mindset promotes solidarity with other marginalized groups and calls for a reevaluation of Turkey’s official narratives, including the one which denies absolutely the Armenian genocide. One individual whom we interviewed expressed this evolving attitude as follows: “Silence is somewhat broken. This is not easy for the generation of my parents. It is against the official stance of the community. Perhaps now, it could be overcome.”

The Shadow of the Holocaust

A pivotal calamity in Jewish history, the Holocaust has come to influence profoundly how Turkish Jews perceive the Armenian genocide. Predictably, the memory of the Holocaust engenders a deep sensitivity to any discussions about it. However, this sensitivity manifests in contrasting ways. The Holocaust’s central place in Jewish identity can lead to competitive victimhood, where any acknowledgement of the suffering of one group is perceived as diminishing the recognition of and importance of another’s. This dynamic complicates the acknowledgment of any genocide other than the Holocaust, including that of Armenians. “I place the Armenian genocide in the context of a period dominated by the conflicts of nationalistic movements,” said one member of the Turkish Jewish community. “Unlike the Holocaust, it is not rooted in the Turks considering themselves racially superior; it is more political and religious in nature. Nevertheless, was there a genocide? Yes.”

An Evolving Future

In his discussion of how in-group solidarity and identity can influence the acceptance or rejection of knowledge about suffering, sociologist Joachim Savelsberg highlights that the struggle over genocide recognition is ongoing and will continue to be shaped by both global human rights norms and local political dynamics. The Turkish Jewish community’s internal debates and evolving attitudes serve as a microcosm of the broader societal shifts in Turkey, illustrating the processes through which collective memory and historical justice are negotiated and redefined. By examining these dynamics, future studies may offer further insights into the potential for historical reconciliation in Turkey.

The significance of this exploration into Turkish Jewish perspectives extends beyond the historical and sociopolitical context of Turkey. It underscores the dynamics of how minorities navigate identities, historical traumas, and political pressures. The Turkish Jewish community in particular faces the challenge of balancing historical experiences, such as the Holocaust, with the prevailing state narratives around the genocide of the Armenians. On the one hand, there is an implicit expectation to conform with the state’s conviction; on the other, Turkish Jews confront the difficult reality of Holocaust denial. This illustrates the intricate ways minority communities must navigate their own histories while engaging with national and global discourses on historical injustices.

Examining the nuanced responses of Turkish Jews demonstrates the challenges communities face in reconciling their own histories with national narratives. Understanding these dynamics can inform international efforts to promote human rights and foster intercommunal solidarity in heterogeneous societies.

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