On May 17, 1971, I was at home reading a book. I turned on the radio to catch the 11:45 news bulletin. The familiar voice of the announcer said:
— You will now hear the statement from the head of government…
I said to myself:
— Let’s hope it's nothing bad… and listened carefully.
The voice belonged to one of our retired colonels, Mr. Sadi Koçaş, who now carried the title “Deputy Prime Minister for Administrative and Political Affairs”, and began speaking:
— We shall pass retroactive laws… We’ll arrest everyone… We’ll hang them… Execute them… Civil authorities, follow my orders…
And so on, and so forth…
The retired colonel was shouting at the top of his lungs:
— Anyone remotely connected with anarchists must be detained… Civil authorities… Listen to my commands.
And again, I thought to myself. Just on March 13, 1971, this gentleman, Sadi Koçaş, had published a piece in Cumhuriyet newspaper praising “activist” youth, saying:
— This country has long been plagued by a system of plunder. No one has stood up to it. Those who have, lost their lives or their futures. But those days are over in Turkey. A new generation has risen — conscious, Ataturkist… They are aware of the schemes behind the curtains, and most importantly, faithful… They have the strength to resist, and the determination to fight…
The article continues like this. I remembered that article. And I said to myself:
— Oh, Mr. Sadi Koçaş… how the mighty have changed.
Let’s not go on too long. A couple of hours later, there was a knock at the door. Rapidly... My mother was already awake. A voice from outside barked:
— Martial Law Command… Open the door…
My mother opened it, forgetting in her confusion to unlatch the security chain. A Sten gun barrel was immediately pushed through the crack. As soon as the door opened, a crowd of men stormed in. The officer in charge said:
— We’re looking for Uğur Mumcu.
— That’s me.
— Where is your library?
I showed them my bookshelf. Two or three plainclothes officers rushed toward it. One by one, they started taking my books. No distinction was made between banned and unbanned works — they picked what they pleased, like selecting fruit from a grocer’s stall. They even drafted a record of the seizure.
I said:
— I should sign it too.
— No, that’s not possible, they said. It’s not allowed, because the record bears the signature of a National Intelligence officer. Confidentiality must be maintained.
Then they took me to “Yıldırım District.” There was a military judge named Orhan İzgi there. I told him that collecting books from people’s homes was against the law. But in a country ruled by a prime minister who was also a law professor, no one seemed to care much about the constitution or the rule of law. So we had no choice but to return to our cell.
About a month after we were detained, we were taken to the military prosecutor's office. Professor Bahri Savcı, Mümtaz Soysal, İlhami Soysal, Uluç Gürkan, Suat Şükrü Kundakçı, and I. My “evidence of guilt” — my books — were placed beside me.
In the courtyard of Yıldırım Military Prison, the Central Commander, General Tevfik Türüng, had set up large tents and placed all the confiscated books, magazines, and newspapers inside, under “detention.” The greatest enemy of the March 12 regime was books — and intellectuals.
My first interrogation was conducted by Martial Law Chief Prosecutor İlhan Şener. Not a single question was asked about my books. After the interrogation, I was held a couple more days and released on the thirtieth day. I was arrested two more times after that. Tried. Convicted. The conviction was overturned. The court resisted again. The Supreme Court overruled it once more. But never — not once — was I questioned about my books.
My books disappeared — just like that. Not a word since.
After March 12, tens of thousands of books were seized from thousands of intellectuals. People were thrown in jail simply for having banned books in their homes. Students, teachers, writers, university professors — all accused under martial law of keeping “banned books”. Statements always included phrases like:
— Numerous banned leftist publications were found…
Then…
Yes, then, various chambers of the Military Court of Appeals began issuing rulings — right in the midst of this “book purge” — stating that possession of banned books at home did not constitute a crime under existing laws. Let’s quote one such decision. In the ruling of the Military Court of Appeals, 3rd Chamber, dated August 17, 1971 (Case No. 1971/337-339), it stated:
“A person who obtained or possessed a book or printed material before it was banned or confiscated by the authorities or courts, cannot be held criminally liable simply due to the subsequent banning of said material...”
The high court had spoken. And yet, to this day, not a single one of the confiscated books has been returned to its rightful owner.
Where are these books? We want to know. Where are they, and with whom? We demand to know who has them. Are they rotting in courthouse basements, fed to the rats? Were they dumped into the sea by the sackful? Doused in gasoline and set on fire? Where are they, and who holds them?
I want necessarily my books back.
I’m asking — that’s all. He who asks may be ashamed once; he who refuses, twice. I want my books back.
— Mr. Sadi, I ask you — where are my books?
To Mr. “Persuasive and Convincing” Nihat: I don’t care what you say.
— Who devoured my books? Return the books you seized from me!
I want my books back.
