In Turkey, New Fears That Peace Has Passed

The PKK's campaign for a Kurdish state in the Turkish southeast erupted into warfare in 1984. The conflict raged for 15 years, with both sides accused of widespread atrocities. But when Ocalan was captured in 1999, the PKK was paralyzed, called a cease-fire and retreated to northern Iraq, which Iraqi Kurds controlled under the protection of a U.S.- and British-enforced "no-fly" zone.

In Turkey, the "Kurdish question" shifted tracks, becoming bound up with Turkey's ardent desire to join the European Union.

To bring its laws into line with E.U. norms on human rights, Turkey eliminated the death penalty, sparing Ocalan's life. Parliament voted to allow the broadcast and private teaching of the Kurdish language. The Tigris and Euphrates Center, which three years ago was raided by Turkish police and intelligence agents almost daily, went weeks without an official visit.

"But the atmosphere is changing," said Sehir, who served 10 years in prison for a bit of street theater glorifying the PKK. "It's almost starting to feel like the early '90s again."

The change began last June, when the PKK announced it was dissatisfied with the pace of change inside Turkey and with Ocalan's restricted access to his attorneys. Small guerrilla bands sneaked back across the heavily fortified Iraqi border. Reports of skirmishes began appearing again in Turkish newspapers.

In recent weeks, tensions have increased sharply. The spark was a widely publicized street demonstration in which a Kurdish teenager burned a Turkish flag, fueling a surge of Turkish nationalism that many Kurds fear will reverse momentum on legal reforms.

Already, "there is a strong resistance within the judiciary and the military against applying these laws," said Mihdi Perincek, who represents the Turkish Human Rights Association in the country's southeast. The association, which works closely with the E.U., had documented a reduction in reports of torture, detentions and other abuses by Turkish security forces last year. But the trend reversed after the E.U. voted in December to give Turkey what it wanted: a date to begin negotiations for membership.

"So we see the government was trying to protect its image until December 17," Perincek said, "and after that the numbers jumped."

In February, for example, the association fielded 120 complaints of torture in Turkey's 22 eastern provinces, more than one-third the total for all of 2004.

The U.S. refusal to move against the PKK in Iraq has fueled not only anti-Americanism in Turkey but also what opinion polls indicate is a core conviction that Turkey must act on its own because it has no reliable friends. In a recent speech, Turkey's top general, Hilmi Ozkok, complained that putting the PKK's "name on the list of terrorist organizations does not have any meaning in practice."

"Failure to take action so far," Ozkok added, "is thought-provoking."

U.S. officials insist they will get to the PKK eventually. But with American troops overstretched battling Arab insurgents in central Iraq, there is scant appetite to mount an offensive in the relatively quiescent north.

"We agree that, over time, we must deal with the PKK," Gen. John P. Abizaid, head of the U.S. Central Command, said in the Turkish capital, Ankara, in January.

Analysts estimate that 6,000 PKK guerrillas remain in Iraq, while their numbers inside Turkey have swelled to 2,000. Most are believed to be scattered in caves and other mountain redoubts.

"It's not like we don't want this problem to be solved," said Haci Senci, 44, a member of the paramilitary "village guard" the government recruited more than a decade ago to fight the PKK and its supporters at the local level, a strategy that pitted neighbor against neighbor.

"We've been on duty nonstop for 14 years," Senci said, cradling a bare foot with his hand as he kept watch outside a stone hut on the main road into town, his AK-47 assault rifle within easy reach. "The closer to the border you get, the more clashes. When the nights get longer and the leaves grow, of course there'll be more clashes."

In town, a bus driver who declined to give his name looked into the mountains and then at his feet. "All we know," he said, "is this is not good."