Operation Nemesis: The Assassination Plot that Avenged the Armenian Genocide - Bogosian Eric - Страница 45

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Moments later, Talat Pasha lay on the ground, dead.

CHAPTER SEVEN The Trial

Glory to him who wielded the avenging thunderbolt! Soghomon Tehlirian exercised holy vengeance. He is the symbol of our Nemesis.

—Flyer circulated in the Armenian American communities

Soghomon Tehlirian’s June 1921 trial lasted only three days amidst a charged political environment. A young man had assassinated a world leader. Seven years earlier the Great War had been sparked when a twenty-year-old Serbian, Gavrilo Princip, assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife, Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg, in late June 1914. Now, another young man in his twenties had killed another important political figure. This time the killer was from Armenia, which, like Serbia, had been a longtime territory of the Ottoman Empire. The powerless were killing the powerful and the world was transfixed.

The drama was riveting also because not just a young man but an entire nation was, by association, on trial. This trial was not only about Tehlirian and Talat but also about the Armenians and the Turks. And it was taking place in Berlin, of all places. The proceedings would shed light not only on Ottoman war crimes but on a particularly shameful aspect of the war that many Germans wanted to forget: the Reich’s complicity in the destruction of the Ottoman Christians.

Many outside Germany believed that the Kaiser’s military had aided and abetted the deportations and killings. At the very least, the German commanders had done nothing to stop the carnage. This was yet another item to add to Germany’s unenviable resume as a warmonger and aggressor state. The citizens of the Allied nations were almost unanimous in their belief that the “Huns” were inherently violent and brutal, and most non-Germans were certain that Germany should receive harsh punishment. Germany was responsible for millions of war dead; now, here was further proof of its barbarity, its alliance with Turkey. (In Leipzig, war crimes trials before the Reichsgericht, or Supreme Court, were taking place concurrently with Tehlirian’s trial in Berlin.)

Germany’s leaders could not afford to let the trial become an examination of their involvement with the murderous Ittihadists because at that very moment, terms that could dramatically affect the Fatherland were being negotiated at the Paris treaty conferences. Minimizing reparations was a top priority for German statesmen. Key to that effort was covering up Germany’s role as accomplice. Since a trial was unavoidable, it was imperative to put full responsibility onto “the Turk” rather than “the Hun.” This was not simply a matter of reputation; this was about the survival of the German nation. Germany could not move on until the treaties were signed. The trial must not be allowed to make matters worse.

As Tessa Hofmann explains in her 1989 essay “New Aspects of the Talat Pasha Court Case,” the German government made an effort to steer the trial away from the political motivations for the assassinations while urging the prosecution to focus on the obvious guilt of the unstable young man who had pulled the trigger. Hofmann quotes the prosecutor in a communication to the Prussian Ministry of Justice: “It is to be feared that the (coming) trial by jury of the Armenian, who assassinated the former Turkish grand vizier, Talat Pasha, on 15 March of this year, in Berlin, will escalate into a mammoth political case.… Perhaps the defense will even try to investigate the stance of the German government on the Armenian atrocities.… (As a result) of the (given) political reasons, the (Foreign Office) would greatly appreciate exclusion of the (public) in this matter.”¹

Any suggestions of wrongdoing on the part of the Germans had to be diluted. More than that, this trial must contribute to a new, more favorable public image for Germany. The prosecution needed to paint the Turks with the blackest brush possible. The Armenian defense team was well aware of this. In a secret memo to fellow Tashnags, Armen Garo announced with absolute certainty that Tehlirian would be acquitted, adding, “Our German friends are determined to make this trial a forum for our cause.”²

The sensational killing had made headlines worldwide. A rootless immigrant had murdered a convicted war criminal. The assassin was a hardworking engineering student who suffered from chronic “epilepsy.” It was even possible that the young man was mentally ill as a result of the fact that six years earlier he had witnessed the brutal executions of his entire family. The killer had few friends, no real plans, and apparently no means of employment. The murdered man had been one of the most powerful men in the world. The killer was an Armenian, the victim a Turk. The enmity between these two nationalities was legendary.

On the first day of his trial, this loner, this misfit, the man the New York Times described as an “undersized swarthily palefaced Armenian,”³ exuded an aura of serenity and intelligence. Anyone could see that this was no crazed maniac. Neatly dressed in suit and tie, clean-shaven and poised, Tehlirian sat calmly at the defense table flanked by top-shelf lawyers and interpreters. The expensive defense team had been underwritten by a well-endowed fund covering all of the defendant’s needs. Prominent members of the Armenian expat community, having no prior connection to the man, were eager to come to the aid of their new hero. This young student had avenged the brutal deaths of hundreds of thousands of his countrymen, and Armenians everywhere were rallying to his cause.

The trial took place in the high-ceilinged Victorian chamber of Berlin’s Third District Court beneath a massive chandelier. Judge Erich Lehmberg, with his counselors Karl Locke and Ernest Bathe on his left, presided over a jury of twelve that included two landlords, a brick maker, a butcher, and a locksmith. District Attorney Gollnick; Tehlirian’s three lawyers—Dr. Adolf von Gordon, privy legal counselor, Berlin; Dr. Johannes Werthauer, privy legal counselor, Berlin; and Dr. Kurt Niemeyer, privy legal counselor, professor of law, Cologne University—were arranged at tables below the judge, at floor level. Also present were the two interpreters for Tehlirian: Vahan Zakarian (his fellow conspirator Vaza) and Kevork Kaloustian. A gallery ran along the upper circumference of the chamber, and from there a dozen or so reporters tracked the proceedings. Only a handful of women were present.⁴

From the start, Tehlirian held the courtroom’s full attention as the translator repeated his softly recounted story of the rape and murder of his sisters as well as the bloody killings of his brothers and mother. His interpreter translated into German and a court stenographer took notes. The young man’s story was like an adventure novel. Left for dead, he had made an astonishing escape from the killing fields, managing to cross the wastelands of Kurdish territory and escape through the mountains. He was a thrilling example of the triumph of the spirit despite all odds. He was brave in so many ways, and now here he was, humbly standing trial, a man who had risen above the heaviest of burdens. Only the hardest heart could remain unmoved by a story so full of pathos.

The subtext was clear: Tehlirian had surmounted his victimhood. The skinny kid had mustered up amazing courage and confronted evil directly. He had survived the cruel deportation caravans and then outsmarted the Turkish security apparatus in Berlin. He had struck at the “head of the snake.” His actions had been bold, fearless. In the world’s eyes, Tehlirian was a David standing up to the powerful Turkish Goliath. To many he was more than sympathetic; he was heroic.

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