Following the national soccer team to a foreign country is usually a safe enough bet for any national leader. Photographs of the president or premier smiling and waving, the local colour, the national flags all play well at home; a few platitudes to charm the local press and a  handshake. Simple, harmless political fun.                                                                                                                                                               

When Turkish President Abdullah Gul visits Yerevan this weekend for Turkey’s World Cup qualifier against Armenia, however, there will be nothing simple about it.

    For the two countries, divided over a wartime slaughter that occurred early in the last century, it will be a historic moment, fraught with perils.

      For many Armenians, Gul’s presence will be an act of sheer effrontery by a state they accuse of an act of genocide against the Armenian people; an act of savagery by the old, collapsing Ottoman Empire for which they demand an apology and redress.

   For many nationalist Turks, his unprecedented venture, the first visit to Armenia by a Turkish leader, borders on betrayal of their country which they say committed no genocide. Hundreds of thousands, Turks and Armenians alike, they argue, died in the fierce fighting  that consumed the region. Opposition leader Deniz Baykal gave a taste of that mood, remarking sarcastically that Gul should lay a wreath at the Yerevan genocide monument. 

     Recklesness or statesmanship? Whichever it is,  if it is either,  it is arguably an act of political courage — as was the invitation issued by Armenian President Serzh Sarksyan. Gul might have left well alone as generations of Turkish leaders have done before him. Few in Turkey or Armenia, would have raised an eyebrow.

     There may well be anti-Turkish demonstrations in Yerevan and rumblings at home. Gul, a naturally mild-mannered man, must watch his words and his body language. Maybe soccer diplomacy could break the ice between Armenia and Turkey in the same way ping-pong diplomacy launched relations between the United States and Communist China.

     Gul’s visit to Armenia is the latest in a string of Turkish foreign policy interventions around his country’s troubled border areas, involving Syria, Iran, Israel, Iraq and more recently Georgia. Gul and Prime Minister Tayyip Erdogan might be seen as pandering to a foreign policy fantasy nurtured by Washington and Brussels of a Turkey building bridges between the West and the Arab world, helping secure the energy routes of the Caucasus and healing the wound of Cyprus; but Ankara is pursuing its own vested interests. While the Turkish economy may prosper in Istanbul or central Anatolia, the country’s east remains steeped in poverty.

    Why? Look around.

    Eastern Turkey is caught, effectively, in a dead end, surrounded  by closed or virtually closed borders and weak neighbouring economies. Armenia is one such neighbour, but an important one.

     A landlocked country still emerging from the ruins of the Soviet Union, Armenia also suffers from a closed border with its huge western neighbour.

    The argument about whether or not the events of the last century were an act of systematic killing, a genocide,  will continue with a passion.

    The idea that governments write history or interpret it is not one that sits easily with me. I’ve lived in countries where the history books are written by the government or the Party.

   The Turks have compromised themselves over decades on this count by prosecuting historians or journalists who dare to entertain the question of whether there was genocide; but things in Turkey are changing. The country is opening, if not quickly enough for some.

    Armenians might argue that the killing in what is today eastern Turkey is not history but very much a modern event for families driven into exile and living with the consequences. Some of those exile families, from Paris to Los Angeles, are among the most vocal proponents of diplomatic action against Turkey.

     Soccer matches can be emotional occasions. Turkish and Armenian colours will vie for attention. Hopefully, the emotion this time will be confined largely to the action on the pitch, but politics will be foremost in many people’s minds, within and beyond the borders of Turkey and Armenia.

    A risky and courageous political act by Gul or a move long overdue for both Turkey and Armenia? Much depends on what comes after the final whistle. Both sides are showing good will. The Armenians, for instance, are removing from the emblems on their kit the image of Mount Ararat,  a mountain now in Turkey but closely linked to Armenian culture and history.

    As Turkish national coach Fatih Terim said on Tuesday, the team is going to Yervan ‘to play a game and not to fight a war’. 

The leaders of Cyprus’s Greek and Turkish communities sipped coffee and called each other “comrade” as they launched a new round of talks on reuniting the island, whose 34-year division has exasperated the most committed of mediators.     
                             
This time, foreign diplomats and analysts say, a solution is in sight, thanks largely to the two moderate, leftist men heading the negotiations - Greek Cypriot Demetris Christofias and Turkish Cypriot Mehmet Ali Talat.

Although it has been years since any violence has erupted on the island, the simmering feud has far-reaching effects onTurkey’s EU aspirations, its relations with fellow NATO member Greece and politics in the eastern Mediterranean.

Fed up with former president Tassos Papadopoulos, who tearfully asked Greek Cypriots to vote down a U.N. re-unification plan in 2004, voters elected Christofias this year and turned the tide on an issue that has long baffled the international community.

Or have they? Local analysts warn against excessive euphoria, saying that the obvious positive climate between the two leaders needs to trickle down to the ground for a deal to be made. Both communities must approve any solution in simultaneous referendums.   

“Both leaders have good intentions but the atmosphere on the local level is polarised,” said Mete Hatay of the PRIO peace institute. “They must be in contact with the communities on a grassroots level to inform them and encourage them.”

Turkish Cypriots are still hurt by the Greek Cypriot rejection of the 2004 U.N. blueprint, which the north overwhelmingly approved. And with every passing year, the distance between the two sides appears to grow. 

A walk down towards the central Nicosia Ledra Street crossing, whose barrier was pulled down in April as a prelude to the talks, speaks volumes about the differences that need to be bridged.

Wealthier Greek Cypriots enjoying a booming economy and the benefits of EU membership, shop at international chains and bask at Starbucks during a hot, humid afternoon. 

A few meters past guards and crumbling neoclassical mansions, Turkish Cypriots are quickly renovating cafes to tap what they believe will be an influx of foreign tourists. Layers of Nike and Adidas knockoffs cover the front of old shops. 

“God willing, this time they will find a solution,” said Mayrem Ozyeser, 80, a basket seller in the nearby market. “Turks and Greeks used to live together, help each other but others have come between us. If it was up to us Cypriots there wouldn’t be a problem.”

The opening of the Ledra crossing has increased visits from both sides but mainly Turkish Cypriots who come to the south for window shopping and, as many say, better ice-cream.

The owner of the Heracles ice-cream shop was happy to get more business since the crossing opened but did not sound as upbeat as foreign observers on the prospect of a solution.

“People in general are not that optimistic,” said Herakles Vrontis, 36. “I don’t believe anything will come out of these talks. Talat does not have the authority to negotiate. It is up to Turkey.” 

As the two leaders prepare to delve into complicated issues such as power-sharing and restitution of property to refugees of the 1974 Turkish invasion, prompted by a Greek-inspired coup, many wonder if the dispute will again defy the most noble of intentions. 

“There is a bigger chance for a solution than before,” said Greek Cypriot political analyst Christoforos Christoforou. “But it’s a difficult process because it does not depend only on the two leaders.” 

The Caucasus tinderbox is alight again. How far will the flames spread this time and what can the outside world - the United States, the European Union, NATO - do to extinguish them?

The strategic significance of this mountainous region stretches back through history.

To the west lies the Black Sea, to the east the Caspian, to the south the Mediterranean, Iran and Turkey.

In the past Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan and the Russian tsars struggled to control its trade routes. Today Russia and the West are competing for influence over its energy pipelines carrying Caspian oil to world markets.

The Caucasus’ blue mountains and fiercely independent people have caught the imagination of Russian writers, Lermontov and Tolstoy. It has created only headaches for political leaders.

Georgia’s pro-Russian breakaway region South Ossetia is the latest battle ground in a long-running conflict.

Will the fighting, involving Russian and Georgian troops end there, or will another of Georgia’s breakaway regions Abkhazia seize the opportunity to press its claim for autonomy?

And what of Chechnya, a thorn in Russia’s side for nearly two centuries. Moscow sent in the troops to bring Chechnya to heel in 1994 and again in 1999. Will it try again to free itself of Moscow’s influence?

And what can the international community do to end the fighting. Dependent on Russian oil and gas, Europe has little or no room for manouevre. The United States has provided vocal backing of Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili, but he would be misguided to expect more. So who can put out the flames?

There can be few countries where the art of the coup is so finely honed as in Turkey, adapting as it does constantly to the spirit of the age, spawning over the decades its own enigmatic lexicon – the “Coup By Memorandum”, the “Post-Modern Coup”, the “Judicial Coup”, the ill-starred “e-Coup”.

Now newspapers (largely pro-government newspapers it should be said), gorge on tales of coup plots dubbed ‘Glove’, ‘Blonde Girl’ , ‘Moonlight’ and devote pages to a shadowy militant group code-named “Ergenekon”. Two retired military commanders, supposed members of the group, have been arrested at their homes on military compounds; a bold step by civilian authorities against an army that jealously guards its privileged status. Critics of Prime Minister Tayyip Erdogan call the arrests, also netting businessmen and journalists, a ‘revenge action’ for moves by the conservative judiciary to shut his AK party on charges of Islamist subversion.  Ertugrul Ozkok, editor of Hurriyet, a newspaper critical of the government ,  suggested authorities were riding roughshod over judicial processes. If  things are as they seem, he said, “none of us can feel comfortable any more. Any one of us can be taken from our homes and held in custody.”

Erdogan, facing a possible court ban from party politics, might also rest uneasily these sultry July nights.

Some coups have shaken Turkey to the core, others brought more subtle change. All have dealt a blow to democracy. A 1960 military putsch sent a prime minister and two other ministers to the gallows (as well as testing the unity of the forces themselves), four in the last 50 years have toppled governments. Turkish political folklore is rich with other conspiracies supposedly involving the “Deep State” – a nebulous fraternity of militant nationalists in the security services, military, judiciary and civil service.

Why such a rich “coup culture” in Turkey?

Perhaps it’s something to do with the way the rails of Turkish democracy snake along so narrow a ledge. To one side the abyss, the fear of division and chaos many Turks seem to carry within. To the other side the forbidding, towering heights of a powerful and distrusting Pashas, or generals. At every tight turn the train will scrape against the granite face of one or teeter precariously towards the edge of the other.

Now is such a turn.

The Pashas, through their Turkish military optics, see a nation seduced by Tayyip. Critics say the judiciary, civil service, universities, even the presidency and security services, are being opened to infiltration by Islamists. AK’s move to allow the Muslim headscarf in universities only underlines the perils.

Erdogan denies any Sharia ambitions. His party, embracing economic liberals, centrists and nationalists as well as religious conservatives, has steered a soundly pro-Western course (arguably far more pro-Western than that of the ‘secularist’ parties AK first swept from office in 2002 polls), winning international profile, building a strong economy and gaining support across the population.

And here, in Erdogan’s success and popularity, lies the Pashas’ dilemma.

In all their interventions and coups, the Pashas, for many the trusted safeguard of the secular order, have never acted flagrantly against popular will. The 1971 “Coup by Memorandum” came as a relief to millions after months of political violence and strikes. The armed forces chief handed what amounted to an ultimatum to the prime minister to restore order or it would “exercise its constitutional duty”. That did the job, memories of the bloody 1960 coup still being fresh. The premier stepped down and a provisional cabinet under military supervision duly restored order.

The 1980 “September 12 Coup” followed a resurgence of streetfighting between leftists and nationalists. The tanks rolled this time, the streets returned to calm, politicians were rounded up and left to cool their heels at detention centres on the Aegean coast.

By the 1990s, rolling tanks along the streets was less acceptable. The Pashas, however, again saw themselves compelled to act to defend the secular state of Ataturk against a government espousing Islamist ideas.

This was the genesis of the 1997 “Post-Modern Coup”.

Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan fell cleanly to a well-orchestrated campaign of pressure from the military in conjunction with business, the judiciary, media and political leaders. If a column of tanks did roll down a mainstreet somewhere, it was only by way of a salutary reminder of pre-post-modern days. Democracy might have emerged that much stronger though, some say, if the Pashas had kept their nerve and allowed Erbakan to fall under the weight of his own folly.
Erdogan’s hold on power is, in any case, surer.

Erbakan enjoyed only about 20 percent support when elected and his popularity had slumped in office. Erdogan garnered 47 percent support at the 2007 election after a tense wrangle with the General Staff that became known as the “e-Coup” affair. Just before midnight on April 27, the armed forces General Staff posted a declaration on its website cautioning Erdogan, in so many words, against putting up his right-hand man, Abdullah Gul, as president. Erdogan did the unthinkable and publicly, if courteously, admonished the military the following day. His gamble then in calling the 2007 election greatly strengthened his position. Gul was duly installed as president. Breathtaking events.

History suggests the greatest fear haunting the military at such times is that of division; division – ethnic and political — in the country and division in the armed forces themselves. The image of the police officers encroaching on military domain to arrest two generals was poignant, even if entirely within the law.

Conspiracy theorists in Turkey – and there are very many — would see the only way out for the “Deep State” in first robbing Erdogan of his supreme weapon, his popularity.

This, then, is where the Ergenekon allegations, regardless of facts yet to be established, have for many the irresistible ring of truth.

Newspapers speak of a plan to unleash a campaign of mass protests, bombings and shootings this month pitching the country into chaos and turning the population against Erdogan. Today brought an armed attack at the United States’ Istanbul mission that killed three policemen and three gunmen.

The military would then be relieved of any internal debate and forced to intervene to rescue the country. Erdogan would be gone, the country saved from an Islamist threat and the military effectively restored to the position of privilege which has been eroded by democratic reforms in the last six years. The risks would be enormous for Turkey, the outcome a tragedy for Turkish democracy and the country’s European mission.

Appropriately, the name “Ergenekon” goes to the heart of Turkishness.

In Turkish mythology, Ergenekon was a deep valley in which the ancient Turks lived, trapped and isolated from the world for four centuries, until a grey wolf led them out through a hidden pass. Free then to thrive, they went on to defeat their enemies and take their rightful place as a noble nation.

Erdogan will know that if he abandons caution and submits too much, too recklessly, to his Islamist wing, the population, those rising middle classes, will almost certainly turn against him. The game will be up. The Pashas’ instinct and their role is to suspect the worst of the politician, but while they seek to ‘guide’ events, they know confrontation could devastate the economy and leave them with a chalice they don’t cherish. Beyond the General Staff, in the darker recesses of the Deep State, there may be those less temperate. Government and military, courts and commentators might do well to stay their hand and keep a cool head these summer months; and remember the long years in Ergenekon.