The struggle between secular and Islamic forces, very much in evidence throughout the middle east, has taken some unusual turns in Turkey -- including a golf course that excludes Muslims and a cookie boycott. At the level of national politics, however, these efforts seem to have benefited the party most closely associated with an Islamist position. Thomas Goltz was a finalist for the Rory Peck Prize for independent camera work for his documentary on the town of Samashki in Chechnya, and is author of an upcoming book on Azerbaijan ("Requiem for a Would-Be Republic," to be published by ME Sharpe in the U.S.)

ISTANBUL -- In an increasingly polarized Turkey, ardent secularists have drawn a new line in the sand -- the sand bunkers of the country's first 18-hole professional golf course.

"We have made a conscious decision to keep Muslim fundamentalist types from acquiring membership," says Melda Koshar, director of sales and marketing at the Klassis Golf and Country Club. "You let them in, and the next thing they will try and do is turn the 19th Hole bar into a mosque."

Golf is fairly new to Turkey, and most players are foreign-born businessmen. The few Turks who have taken to chasing the little white ball are usually very wealthy, and unlikely to dash from Friday prayers for an afternoon tee-time.

But the attitude expressed by the "no fundamentalists" policy is an excellent example of a growing pattern of repression that many observers in Turkey find worrisome.

"Frankly, the idea of fundamentalist Muslims lining up to join a golf club is just nuts," claims Nicole Pope, co-author (with her husband Hugh of the Wall Street Journal) of a new book, "Turkey Unveiled."

"But the idea that the secular elite imagines that they might do so in order to infiltrate yet another sacred domain is not."

The most dramatic move against Islamists was the Turkish military's effective putsch against the government of Islamist Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan and his Welfare (Refah) Party, along with its coalition partner, the True Path Party of Mrs Tansu Ciller.

By luring deputies away from Ciller's center-right party, the military reduced the coalition's majority to an unworkable minority. But the new majority-to-be is an unwieldy coalition of parties whose only common element appears to be an irrational fear of Erbakan and loathing of Ciller.

The putsch began with a series of briefings at the headquarters of the Chief of the General Staff, where officers detailed alleged fundamentalist attempts to infiltrate all areas of Turkish society. Their none-too-subtle campaign sought to equate fundamentalism with the war against Kurdish separatists -- a conflict that has left more than 20,000 dead over the past 14 years.

In the wake of the putsch, some 1,000 "Islamic" companies were barred from bidding on military contracts -- including hundreds of companies owned by individuals or groups better described as "traditional" or "conservative".

The military's lead has also been taken up on the street as "Secularist" consumer associations organize boycotts of grocery stores, newsstands and even public transportation.

"We started taking notes and making lists of people who did not show enough respect for Ataturk (the founder of secular Turkey), and then faxed the lists around the neighborhood as places to avoid," chuckled one of Istanbul's leading ophthalmologists, who declined to be quoted by name. "I will not even get in a taxi driven by a man with a beard anymore out of general principle."

The reaction of Muslim activists has been surprisingly calm.

"It makes no difference if you can call us green (Islamic) capitalists or red (Turkish nationalist) capitalists," says Erol Yarar, chairman of the Muslim Industrialists' Association. "The fact remains we have made, and continue to make, a major contribution to the economy of this country."

A minority of observers posit an Algeria-like scenario, with Islamists going underground and initiating guerrilla war. But the Refah party's behavior during the current crisis makes this unlikely so far, at least. If anything, Welfare is acting more responsibly than any other political grouping and is actually gaining credibility -- even as its leaders exude optimism.

"This sort of thing is not new to Turkish politics, and will not go away until we manage to establish a real, stable democracy in this country," says Abdullah Gul, a leading member of Welfare. "In fact, we are actually happy about the defections, because they reveal the opportunism of those making principled announcements even as they break their own words."

Rather than embracing a partisan position, the one private channel known for its pro-Welfare sympathies has effectively established itself as the only reliable source of electronic news by continuing to broadcast developments in a straightforward and sober manner -- if often tinged with a sort of gallows humor -- as Welfare gets pushed further and further off the stage.

Meanwhile, back on the links of the Klassis Country Club, the threat of Islamic fundamentalism overrunning Turkey seems about as real as this writer winning a new car by making a hole-in-one. Even if the number of fundamentalist businessmen chasing that little white ball rises significantly, they will most likely build their own course.

"We like to stay in the forefront of business and commercial development, whether in banking, the media or cyberspace--so why not golf?" suggests a member of the huge, conservative Ilhas Holding company.