By Bryan R. Thomas
In the 1960s Turkish immigrants were welcomed to Germany with open arms to help fill the gap in the work force created by the economic boom of the time. Back then, there were around 500,000 job vacancies, with only 180,000 job seekers.
The first Turkish workers came without their families, planning to stay only a few years and return home with newly gained skills and hard-earned savings. For most, this was to prove impossible. By 1966-67 the economy was back in recession, and many Turks returned home with little more than they had brought.
However, despite the recession and resulting low wages, more Turks came, taking whatever jobs were offered in the automobile industry, coal mining, the foundries and textile factories.
Despite a 1973 government ban on recruitment of labour outside the European Community, the number of Turkish immigrants continued to rise as the legal "Gastarbeiter" (guest workers) were joined by their families.
There are now about 1.7 million Turks in Germany, and more than half don't intend to stay. Over the years there have been many attempts to encourage repatriation: financial assistance, mortgages to construct homes in Turkey, cheap credits for businesses, the formation of workers' companies to set up firms in Turkey. All have been offered, but few have taken the bait.
Over the past 30 years the immigrants have not won many concessions. Under an association agreement between Turkey and the EC, they are guaranteed free education and security of employment and medical care, but they still live under the Aliens Law, which gives them few legal rights. They are not entitled to a vote in federal or local elections.
For Turkish women, the predicament is especially awkward, because many don't have residence permits in their own name. In German political and social life, no more than a handful of Turks have managed to bridge the gap between the different cultures. A few have managed to set up businesses, move from the ghettos and buy homes. But after a day's work most Turks make their way to rooms in the cities' ghettos, while their German workmates retire to their local bars or comfortable homes.
"German industry is dependent upon us. We do the jobs where no German labour is available", one Turkish textile worker told me. But, he added, "we are Germany's most unloved
immigrants". Why is this? Not because of their work or lifestyle; they are regarded as industrious, honest and family oriented. "We are of the wrong religion for Europe", he answered.
This is a remark I've heard frequently from both young and old. While there is officially no religious discrimination, Turkish Muslims often find themselves ostracised. A Turkish social worker explained: "If a German sees a Catholic nun dressed in her religious habit in the street, he or she will be courteous and respectful to her. But if it is a Muslim woman in her chador walking in the same street, she will be open to ridicule."
For the immigrant youth, there is the additional problem of double identity. Born in Germany or educated there from an early age, some can't speak Turkish while others prefer not to. They have difficulty relating to parents brought up in the old country, particularly those who can't speak German or who, from religious conviction, reject the liberal ways of German life. But, on the other hand, the young don't feel fully accepted in Germany either.
Now, adding to all these problems, comes a wave of xenophobia. Almost daily the immigrants hear of violence committed against foreigners by hooligans of the extreme right. While the government makes formal pronouncements against the racists, the violence continues, and some Turkish youths are talking of taking arms to defend themselves and their families from attack. They say the police cannot or will not protect them.