When my baby boy was taken into the operation room to be circumcised, he was only two days old. I distinctly remember how my heart was torn, and how I could not rid myself of doubt over whether I was doing the right thing as a parent. As an atheist, I did not care about the religious significance of circumcision, but I did not want my son—a half-Turkish boy—to feel excluded from Turkey’s culture.
In Turkey, a Muslim-majority country, circumcision is a big deal for boys and their families. It is widely portrayed as a passage to manhood. It is a social, cultural, traditional and religious ritual. But lately it has taken on a political undertone.
Armenian President Serzh Sargsyan addresses the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe in Strasbourg last October. (Reuters/Vincent Kessler)
On Oct. 1, 2013, the parliamentary assembly of the Council of Europe—an intergovernmental body that includes Turkey—passed a resolution condemning male circumcision as a violation of children’s physical integrity, in contravention of their human rights. The resolution grouped together “female genital mutilation, the circumcision of young boys for religious reasons [and] early childhood medical interventions in the case of intersex children” in a single category of violation of the physical integrity of children. It recommended member states to take legislative and policy measures to reinforce child protection in this context.
TURKISH CIRCUMCISION
Circumcision is an obligation for both Jewish and Muslim communities. Jews circumcise their boys on the eighth day after birth, and it is generally performed by a specialist ritual circumciser. In the Muslim world, there is no set age for the circumcision, and it can be done from birth to 15 years of age. In Turkey, boys are generally circumcised before 10 years of age. There used to be a specific occupation called circumciser in Turkey, but in recent years parents have more often chosen hospitals or surgeons to perform the procedure because of possible complications. After the circumcision, a big party is held to celebrate the boy’s first day of manhood. On this occasion the circumcised boy is dressed in ceremonial garb that looks like the modern version of an Ottoman sultan’s robes—generally in bright colors such as blue or white, with a cape and a hat.
German legislator Marlene Rupprecht says children should be old enough to give consent before circumcision. (Konekt)
The lead legislator on the subject for the council, Marlene Rupprecht, a German member of the assembly, suggested in her report that a child should be at least 14 before circumcision, and should give his consent.
The Council of Europe is the continent’s foremost human rights organization, designed to protect human rights, democracy and the rule of law. In terms of numbers of members, it is bigger than the EU: It has 47 members, 28 of which are also the EU members. It is an intergovernmental body with institutions of its own, such as the European Court of Human Rights.
Turkey and Israel both attacked the Council of Europe resolution, signaling concerns that its move might affect debates on human rights and lead to a wave of legislation banning circumcision across Europe.
Just a few days before the assembly approved the resolution, the national ombudsmen for children and pediatric experts in six Nordic countries—Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Greenland and Finland—issued a joint statement calling on their governments to let boys themselves decide if they should be circumcised. The statement says that circumcision performed without medical necessity “violates fundamental medical-ethical principles.”
Turkey's speaker of the parliament, Cemil Cicek, suggests that the resolution is anti-Muslim and anti-Jewish. (AFP/Getty Images/Adem Altan)
The assembly’s resolution prompted Cemil Çiçek, the speaker of the Turkish parliament, to send an angry letter to the council calling for its reversal. “The decision surely contradicts a foundation of universal human rights, which is freedom of thought and faith,” he said. “I have my doubts regarding the resolution, and wonder whether it was deliberately presented to humiliate and offend Jewish and Muslim people.”
Cengiz Aktar, a senior scholar at the Istanbul Policy Center, a think tank, thinks the resolution may hit Turkish-EU relations indirectly.
“This remains a potential problem,” he says. “This is a fundamental debate; the resolution is also problematic within the EU, which has Jewish and quite a number of Muslim citizens.”
Aktar says the fact that Turkey is a Muslim-majority country plays a part in the EU’s reluctance to admit it as a member; he adds the debate could also further stoke public opinion in Turkey itself against the EU. “There is the thought in Europe that Muslims can never be modern or democrats,” he says. “It is very upsetting but I think it comes down to religion and culture.”
The same disappointment with Europe was palpable on the streets of Istanbul. Ayşegül Yenier, a student at Yıldız Technical University, considers circumcision as fundamentally a cultural ritual. “If I continue to live in Turkey, I would have my son circumcised, but it would be so wrong for Europe to impose anything on the subject,” she says. “This might seem like assimilation.”
Tümay Günay, who owns an eatery in Beşiktaş on the European shore of the Bosphorous, sees the subject from a more religious point of view. “If I don’t teach my son to observe Islam’s teachings, then I would be responsible,” he says confidently. “So I would definitely choose circumcision over the EU membership.”
Egemen Eroğlu, a pediatric surgeon who performs the procedure at Istanbul’s American Hospital, acknowledges that circumcision is generally not a medical necessity. But he approaches the subject pragmatically: “This is one of the oldest rituals and circumcision cannot be stopped,” he says. “Even if you ban it, people will still continue to do it. So it is best to perform it with the least painful methods and with capable hands.”
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