The following letter to the editor is a response to the article written by Fehmi Barkarmo: “The Controversy Over the Seyfo Monuments—When the Name Becomes More Important Than the Memory”
The Seyfo Monument in Södertälje is intended to honor the victims of the 1915 genocide. It is an important and historic decision. The monument also includes all the terms currently used within the group: Assyrians, Syriacs, and Chaldeans. Therefore, it is misleading to claim that the monument would exclude anyone.
The problem isn't that certain terms are missing. They're there.
The problem, rather, is the hostility that a Syrian faction displays toward anything perceived as Assyrian.
When the monument’s design was presented inside City Hall—a public forum—Syriac representatives questioned why the monument resembled an Assyrian tower. The question was not innocent. It was not merely about the design. It revealed a deeper reluctance to allow Assyrian history and Assyrian symbolism to be represented in a monument intended to honor the victims of the Seyfo.
This is precisely where the core issue lies.
If the monument already includes all the designations, why do Assyrian historical references cause such irritation? Why does a tower reminiscent of Assyrian architecture become a problem? Why is Assyrian symbolism perceived as provocative in a memorial to a genocide in which the Assyrians were one of the affected ethnic groups?
The answer is uncomfortable but must be stated: there are forces within the diaspora that not only prefer a different term but actively oppose the Assyrian historical identity.
This is not a minor internal linguistic conflict. It concerns a people's right to retain their historical name and their historical memory.
Assyrians are not merely a religious group. Assyrian identity predates Christianity and has its roots in Mesopotamia. It encompasses language, culture, history, geographic origin, and a collective memory that stretches back thousands of years. When this identity is reduced to church affiliation, or when Assyrian symbols are treated with suspicion, the entire narrative of the people is undermined.
The Seyfo was not an abstract attack on anonymous religious groups. It was a genocide that affected Armenians, Assyrians, and Greeks in the Ottoman Empire. Hundreds of thousands were killed, villages were destroyed, and an entire historical presence was shattered. Remembering Seyfo, therefore, means more than just mourning the victims. It also means acknowledging who they were.
That is why symbolism matters.
A monument speaks not only through text. It speaks through form, materials, location, and historical references. If a Seyfo monument includes features that draw on Assyrian architecture, that is not a problem. It is historically appropriate. It is part of the memory the monument is meant to preserve.
What is truly troubling is not that the monument serves as a reminder of Assyrian history. What is troubling is that there are those who react negatively precisely because of that.
Even more troubling is the silence from Assyrian organizations.
When Syriac representatives questioned in a public forum why the monument resembled an Assyrian tower, the answer should have been clear. Assyrian representatives should have said:
Because the Assyrians are one of the ethnic groups that were affected by the Seyfo.
Because Assyrian history should not be hidden away.
Because a memorial to the genocide must also reflect the victims' historical identity.
But a clear answer never came.
That silence is difficult to understand. For a people whose identity has been denied, belittled, and distorted for over a hundred years, silence is never neutral. When Assyrian symbols are publicly called into question and Assyrian organizations do not speak out, it creates the impression that Assyrian identity is negotiable.
It isn't.
By failing to acknowledge it, we played right into Turkey’s hands. For generations, Turkey’s policy of denial has benefited from the fact that the victims of the genocide are fragmented, referred to vaguely, or reduced to religious minorities without a national identity. When Assyrians are not clearly mentioned, when Assyrian history is downplayed, and when Assyrian symbols are made controversial, it is precisely the narrative that denies our people’s history that is promoted.
Turkey has no problem discussing various Christian groups as long as the national Assyrian identity is undermined. It is when Assyrians emerge as a people with historical continuity, origins, and a right to recognition that the issue becomes politically uncomfortable.
That is why this is not just a debate about a monument in Södertälje. It is part of a larger struggle over the writing of history.
After the Seyfo, many began to describe Assyrians primarily as “Christians” or as members of various churches. In international contexts, broad terms such as “Christian minorities in the Middle East” were often used. This may sound inclusive, but the result was that the Assyrian national identity was erased. A people became a religious category.
This trend must not continue within the diaspora.
The churches have played a role in preserving language, traditions, and community during difficult times. But the church alone cannot define the national identity of an entire people. Assyrians are more than just their church affiliation. Assyrians are a people. When identity is limited to religion, we lose the historical dimension—and with it, the ability to fully understand the Seyfo.
That is why the question of the monument’s Assyrian symbolism is so important.
If Assyrian towers, Assyrian motifs, or Assyrian historical references are not allowed to appear on a Seyfo monument, what does that say about our self-image? Should we honor the victims but be ashamed of their history? Should we erect monuments while at the same time accepting that Assyrian symbols are viewed with suspicion? Should we speak of remembrance but remain silent when the name and symbols are attacked?
That's not possible.
A people who have survived genocide, flight, and persecution cannot build their future on the fear of saying their own name. Nor can they allow a vocal faction to define the limits of what may be considered acceptable historical symbolism.
It must be made clear: the monument includes all designations. No one is excluded.
But inclusion cannot mean that Assyrian elements are to be erased, downplayed, or made invisible. If all names are to be included, then Assyrian history must also be included.
Otherwise, it's not inclusion. Then it's self-censorship.
Södertälje has the opportunity to create a monument that will serve as a dignified place for remembrance, mourning, and recognition. But for that to happen, the debate must be conducted honestly. The conflict is not about anyone being excluded from the text. The conflict is about the fact that some people do not accept the Assyrian historical presence in the symbolism.
They must defend what previous generations preserved through suffering, exile, and persecution. They must speak out when Assyrian symbols are attacked. They must understand that silence does not bring peace, but rather creates room for continued denial.
We must never forget Seyfo. But for that memory to endure, we must also have the courage to name the victims. We must have the courage to defend its name, its history, and its symbols.
For when a people stops defending its name, its history begins to fade away.
And when Assyrians remain silent while Assyrian history is called into question, it is not only we ourselves who lose out.
We also help those who have always wanted to delete us.
This is a letter to the editor. The views expressed are those of the author.
