SPIEGEL: Do you keep a regular diary?
Pamuk: I very much enjoy reading other writers' diaries, mainly because it makes me ask myself: Are they like you? How do they think? I have never liked diaries that are published during an author's lifetime. Writing my own diary is the best form of remembrance, but only for my own use. I need these notes; it's like an impulse. I need a moment of time for myself every day, like a child playing with his things. When I travel, I routinely find a quiet place, open my diary and write something in it. It has its own kind of magic. It gives me the feeling of having accomplished something. On days when I don't have time for this, I feel tortured. A nicely filled page, whether it'll be published today or in 50 years, gives me the feeling of being a good boy.
SPIEGEL: Why did your Turkish publisher hesitate to publish the original version of "Snow" three years ago?
Pamuk: The legal situation then was completely different than it is today. Someone thought it might be a good idea to show the book to an attorney first. We weren't sure how the public prosecutor's office would react to the portrayal in the novel. Criticizing the military is considered morally reprehensible, because it involves such a tremendously important issue as secularization. The attorney assured us that most of the material in the novel was ok.
SPIEGEL: Didn't you hesitate to address the Kurdish question or the issue of Armenians?
Pamuk: I was already talking about these topics, which can easily get you into trouble in Turkey, outside of my books. Let me put it this way: Not just Dostoyevsky, but many great authors of the 19th century wrote under conditions of strict censorship. The great thing about the novel, about the art of writing a novel, is that you can write about anything. All you have to say is that it's fiction. That was the case with "Snow." No one reacted the way some feared they would.
SPIEGEL: But you have been and continue to be the target of physical attacks in Turkey.
Pamuk: When Turkey began approaching the EU, I wasn't the only one who worried that the dark stain in Turkey's history -- or rather the history of the Ottoman Empire -- could become a problem one day. In other words, what happened to the Armenians in World War I. That's why I couldn't leave the issue untouched. I alluded to the fact -- but certainly didn't intend it as an erudite remark -- that this is difficult to talk about in Turkey.
SPIEGEL: ... namely the fact that hundreds of thousands of Armenians were killed in what is now Turkey?
Pamuk: This remark of mine resulted in a powerful explosion. When something that explosive is kept hidden away, a tension builds within that must ultimately be released.
SPIEGEL: And you consistently avoided referring to it directly as genocide. In fact, you never even used the word.
Pamuk: Because I didn't want to. In fact, the word genocide was first used in the Turkish newspapers in an attempt to attack me, even though I didn't even use the expression. And then it was quoted by the Europeans. What could I have done? After people suddenly began talking about something that used to be taboo and a real hate campaign developed against me, I could hardly stand up and say: I never even said that!
SPIEGEL: That was when you moved to New York for a while. Were you fleeing, in a sense?
Pamuk: You tend to over-dramatize things. It's your job. I was invited by Columbia University, where I had once studied on a scholarship. So I stayed for a while, that's all.
SPIEGEL: Are you worried about the trial you will face in December for "public denigration of Turkish identity?"
Pamuk: I must respect the laws and the legal system of my country. In that respect, I do take it seriously. However, I do not expect that the matter will have significant legal consequences for me. I'm not terribly concerned about it.
SPIEGEL: So you don't expect to be sent to prison?
Pamuk: Absolutely not.
SPIEGEL: Isn't having been in prison at least once a sort of badge of honor for a Turkish author?
Pamuk: Wouldn't it be an even greater honor to be the first Turkish writer who had never been there? Isn't that much better? Better for Turkey and better for the author?
SPIEGEL: Do you believe that Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan has been sufficiently supportive of you?
Pamuk: Well, Erdogan didn't support me when I was having some big problems.
SPIEGEL: He expressed his regret over the charges.
A Turkish woman wearing a headscarf walks past posters sporting a woman veiled by the European Union flag in central Istanbul.
SPIEGEL: Do you see Erdogan as a dedicated reformer or as an Islamist who hides his true intentions well?
Pamuk: I see him as an organizer first, a perfect organizer. He's a tough guy. His form of Islam -- the typical fundamentalist Middle Eastern rhetoric -- was quite common in Turkey 10 years ago. From there, he moved to a highly remarkable standpoint, namely the desire to move Turkey forward in the direction of Europe, supported by Islamists, former Islamists, a few secularists and 70 percent of the Turkish population. If you ask me whether that sounds like a contradiction, I say: No, great changes in the direction of peace have often come from people who were no great advocates of peace to begin with.
SPIEGEL: How strong is the idea of Europe in Turkey?
Pamuk: Just think of how elated the nation was recently over the news that negotiations had begun with the EU. This country, with its political intolerance, as I have described it, is now prepared to march forward, to break with its taboo about the Armenians, and is making great strides with respect to human rights and freedom of speech so that it can join the European Union. This alone shows how powerful the European idea is.
SPIEGEL: What would happen to the Turkish identity if Turkey actually become a member of the EU one day?
Pamuk: Of course we Turks would lose a part of this identity, just as Europe would lose a part of its own. It would also be a different Europe then. Accepting Turkey into the EU is an ambitious political endeavor of historical proportions. Europe would become a strong, multi-religious unit. It would gain the strength of 70 million Turks who also happen to be Muslims. This isn't dangerous in the least, since Turks want peace. They are prepared to become true Europeans.
SPIEGEL: Are you proud to be a Turk?
Pamuk: Of course. I am proud to be a Turk, and to write in Turkish about Turkey -- and to have been translated into about 40 languages. But I don't want to politicize things by dramatizing them.
SPIEGEL: Can you reveal to us what you plan to say when you accept the peace prize?
Pamuk: What I would like to do is define Europe through its great art of the novel.
SPIEGEL: Mr. Pamuk, we thank you for this interview.
The interview was conducted by editors Dieter Bednarz and Volker Hage.
Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
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© DER SPIEGEL 42/2005
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