Wars of Misinformation

The presidents of Turkey and America are using the oldest trick in the book to offset their personal insecurity. And it is probably working.


“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.” Sun Tzu

We all recall the infamous Irqai information minister Muhammed Saeed al-Sahaf, who blatantly and hilariously continued to deny that Saddam Hussein’s regime was coming to an end.

“There are no American infidels in Baghdad. Never!” he said. And on another occasion: “The American press is all about lies! All they tell is lies, lies and more lies!”

Fake news

Something you would expect from an enemy – but what about the sitting president in a democratic country?

Donald Trump’s attacks on the press are more than just shouting. They are a very effective example of deflating your opponents’ arguments. Fake news is a real problem, and the phenomenon might have been a contributing factor to his election. But by labelling real news as fake news, the incentive to attack fake news is diminished, because he is muddling the picture.

Who’s the terrorist now?

In Turkey, President Erdogan has just won a huge victory in securing power to himself, and limiting democratic restraints. But this has only increased his tendency to rebuke any criticism. His Nazi comparisons and name-callings have not ended. Rather he stooped as low as branding Nikolaj Villumsen, a Danish MP monitoring the election, a ‘terrorist’.

Danish PM Lars Løkke Rasmussen was quick to call out the accusation, adding to the international pressure rightfully placed on Turkey these days.

This is not child’s play

Name-calling your enemies is a classic strategy, and something informed and well-educated citizens ought to see through. Heck, it even features in children’s literature. I’ll give you two examples:

In C.S. Lewis’ The Last Battle, the final instalment in the Chronicles of Narnia, a monkey conspires to present a fake Aslan (the creator-Deity lion) who issues orders that destroy the nation. Our heroes discover that the fake Aslan is in fact a donkey in disguise, but before they have the chance to call the bluff, the monkey himself announces that an impostor has been found, and the real Aslan will show himself no more. Thus they have nothing to gain by showing the impostor. “She understood the devilish cunning of the enemies’ plan. By mixing a little truth with it they had made their lie far stronger.”

In Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge is faced with the news that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. In denial and/or out of fear, however, he instead launches a smear campaign against the sources, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, branding them as nutters and liars.

We should not fall for this. More importantly, leaders in free societies should not stoop to this level. It is a sign of weakness and fear not worthy of a leaders.

One might add: “If you want to know what a terrorist looks like, Mr. Erdogan, you should look in a mirror.”


One war to remember, and one to forget

One hundred years ago, a force of Australian and New Zealand soldiers landed on a beach in Turkey, as part of the Middle Eastern campaign during World War I. Kemal Atatürk’s army wielded fierce resistance, and between them the two armies successfully killed more than a hundred thousand people at Gallipoli.

For the young Australian nation, losing 8,709 soldiers was a massive tragedy, and the event was a strong unifying force. Ever since, April 25 has been celebrated as Anzac Day commemorating the tragedy.

As with WWI in its entirety, many have wondered what, exactly, they were fighting about. Thus, while Anzac Day can serve a patriotic purpose, it should also be a reminder of the atrocities of war. Eric Bogle’s chilling song “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” captures it well:

“And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore.
They’re tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, what are they marching for?
And I ask myself the same question.”

Today, 10,000 people, mostly Australians are gathered in Anzac Cove in Turkey for a memorial service. Turkey and Australia became friends and allies soon after the war, and they acknowledge a shared tragedy in Gallipoli.

It is ironic that modern Turkey welcomes today’s commemoration, but vehemently opposes the one yesterday: the 100th anniversary of the Armenian genocide. Same war, same empire, different enemy. Across Europe, Turkey’s envoys raise the same objection whenever the massacre of the Armenian people is remembered: “hey, we didn’t do it”.

The foundation of peace in Europe is built on forgiveness between neighbours who readily acknowledge their previous mutual aggressions. It would become Turkey if it could live up to its atrocities towards neighbouring people, and not only those on the other side of the world.