The clash of values across symbolic boundaries:claims of urban space in contemporary Istanbul

Pekka Tuominen

Published online: 20 March 2013# Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2013

Keywords Istanbul . Beyoglu . Urban Anthropology . Spatiality . Boundaries . Values

On September 22nd 2010 Turkish newspapers were reporting on the mob attack at theexhibition openings in two galleries in the Tophane district of Istanbul. A 40–50 stronggroup ofmen, armed with sticks, knives and pepper gas had assembled and rapidlymadeits way up main the thoroughfare Boğazkesen Caddesi (ironically Cutthroat Street inEnglish) wreaking havoc and hospitalizing several people around the recently openedgalleries. The reasons behind the attack were speculated in the press which presented, asusual, a very wide spectrum of possible culprits and their motives. The galleries werejust a stones throw fromwhere I had lived and the media coverage remindedme ofmanydiscussions I had participated concerning the changes in the area.

I followed the commentaries on the attack from blogs aimed at a close circle offriends, local discussion forums, local newspapers as well as ones with a globalreach1 and could easily distinguish how the incident was related to popular ideolog-ical divisions within contemporary Istanbul. At the extremes, the attacks were tracedto operations of radical Islamists protesting controversial exhibits and gallery-goers’habits of drinking alcoholic beverages in a pious neighbourhood; or, as actions of theultra-secular right-wing organizations who were offended by a statue depictingAtatürk as a fallen angel, his head and one wing resting on the floor. Some analyseswent even further and saw the attacks as organised secretly by the military to putpressure on the moderately Islamist municipal administration, using them as anexcuse to strengthen the control of the district and promote secular values. Theexplanations ranged in complexity from spontaneous confrontation with the localyouth to elaborate conspiracy theories that were supported establishing links through-out the Turkish society. However, they all had in common ideas on internal divisions

Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51DOI 10.1007/s11562-013-0245-z

1E.g. http://kamilpasha.com/, http://www.tophanehaber.com/, www.haberler.com, www.bianet.org, www.radikal.com.tr, www.hurriyetdailynews.com, www.nytimes.com - see complete links in bibliography

P. Tuominen (*)Social and Cultural Anthropology, Department of Social Research, University of Helsinki,P.O. Box 59, Unioninkatu 38, 00014 Helsinki, Finlande-mail: pekka.tuominen@helsinki.fi

of the city and the sense that boundaries between Islam and secularism, tradition andmodernity, and social class positions had been dangerously crossed. Nazim HikmetRichard Dikbaş, an artist injured in the attack, recalled one of the assailants saying:“You don't want us, so we don't want you".2 This was clearly not just an issue ofpeople who happened to be in wrong place but a clash in a complex set of socialdynamics that did not surprise Istanbul’s population. Many of my friends commentedthat they had ‘seen it coming’ but were confused and uncertain about the exact natureof the conflict.

Here, my aim is to discuss how different imaginations of spaces within Istanbul’scityscape are employed to reflect on people’s practices and to construct coherentmental maps of the city. I will focus on shared understandings of how different sets ofvalues operate in different spaces and how the boundaries between them signify asense of belonging and exclusion. In contrast to the stereotypical view of Istanbul as adual city, divided into posh suburbs and shanty neighbourhoods, each with their setsof preferable values, which is increasingly being criticized (e.g. Navaro-Yashin2002a, b; White 2002; Keyder 1997), I argue that shifts between morally appropriatebehaviour in different spaces and contexts requires constant reflective practices frompeople to reproduce mental mappings with internalised, albeit often contradictory,notions of the proper rules of conduct. My informants from different socio-culturalbackgrounds cherished the very complexity of contemporary Istanbul with surprisinguniformity and criticised dual-city perspective as a remnant from the past. OrhanPamuk was a favourite target also among people who had not touched his books.Ridvan, a 29-year old tea-house waiter who had migrated to Istanbul 7 years ago froma village in the Southeast and lived in the impoverished district of Tarlabaşı, summedup the disruption of these narratives in a familiar way:

“There are too many people who live in their fantasies of Istanbul and cannotsee that the city is different than in their childhood. Orhan Pamuk tells to peoplethat most of the people here live like in villages. In reality, many of the poorknow the reality of this city better than him but are thought as idiots by the richin Nişantaşı.”34

I will concentrate on how people living in impoverished neighbourhoods close tothe celebrated urban sphere around Beyoğlu’s Istiklal Caddesi (IndependenceAvenue) reflect upon crossing spatial boundaries and how their views of differentframeworks of values, understandings of private and public space and concretetransformations of Istanbul’s districts are related to historically developed ideologiesof modern identity in contrast to simplistic generalizations associated with separatebut often overlapping sets of Islamic and traditional values. I will especially focus onhow various understandings of Islam as a moral framework, a sense of belonging anda set of cultural practices and representations is, often paradoxically, related todebates of the authentic and modern self in the contemporary urban sphere. Mytheoretical approach considers individuals being located within moral frameworks

2 http://www.foxnews.com/world/2010/09/26/turkey-culture-clash-gangs-assault-art-galleries-opening-night/3 Nişantaşı is an affluent district north of Beyoğlu that for many symbolises the life of the upper-classIstanbul. Pamuk was also born in Nişantaşı and has lived most of his life in the area.4 I have translated the quotes from my interviews conducted in Turkish

34 Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51

that orient them toward what they value most and help to bring out the qualitativedifferences of values into public space through language (Taylor 1989). I willconcentrate on the situations and contexts in which standards are articulated asrepresentations alongside the engaged and embodied practices of the actors (Taylor1995). However, following Dahlgren, I do not consider moral frameworks tied topersons but influencing practices in particular situations and their coexistence asorganizing social communication (Dahlgren 2010:267). My aim is to study howsocial realities are constituted within these tensions as they inform the agency ofpeople in relation to understandings of modernity and its contextual boundaries. I usemy ethnographic data to analyse how globally widespread dynamics and oppositionsbetween city and the countryside, religion and secularism as well as modernity andtradition have found their specific formations in contemporary Istanbul and argue thatthe dynamics of spatial boundaries play a crucial role in transformations of the urbanenvironment.

I will begin my analysis with a brief overview of the amalgam of the cityscape andits historically formed symbolic boundaries.

Internal divisions of Istanbul—practices of mental mapping

“Istanbul is a country, not a city” – Mayor Kadir Topbaş – Guardian 2.1.2011.5

The archetypal divisions of Istanbul are based on its unique geography and its longhistory of certain attributes dominating representations of particular districts. Themost popular juxtaposition is between the imperial Stamboul side with its rich

5 http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jan/02/dispatch-istanbul-most-dynamic-city

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Ottoman history in the south of the Golden Horn and the modern European districtlying on its northern side. However inadequately and in generalising terms, they areoften defined according to their relationship to Islam. The divide between Muslimspaces occupied by the religious people in the old Ottoman neighbourhoods andsecularist (laik)6 neighbourhoods in the modern areas of the city is acknowledged byIstanbulites although they frequently state that also this divide is mostly symbolic andcontemporary social realities are much more complex and heterogeneous (see Henkel2007). Furthermore, the two sides of the Golden Horn are divided into smallerenclaves associated with different histories and values that are constantly discussedand criticized. The oppositions between Ottoman and modern epochs, urban andvillage-like environments and, on a more intimate level, individualistic and commu-nal values are constantly employed in their descriptions. The static view of traditionallow-income neighbourhoods (mahalle) where “communality is limited to the imme-diate neighbourhood, communitarian organisations based on primordial and religiousidentities (such as associations based on place of origin) shape everyday life, andrelations with the political authorities are largely mediated through patron-client ties”(Ayata 2002:25), in contrast to secular spaces of freedom and individual expressionshape the everyday speech as different spheres. These issues were notified on bothconcrete and abstract terms: I constantly heard characterisations of different spacesframed in the prevalence of headscarves and beards and the number of shops andrestaurants selling alcohol as well as based on the closed and unwelcoming privacy ofthe residential quarters in contrast to the egalitarian modernity of the boulevards.These two sides came together when dealing with complex contextual questions suchas gender relations in everyday life:

“Islamists like to talk about human rights and democracy but only to advancetheir political agendas. If I would go to some neighbourhoods in Fatih uncov-ered I would be harassed. If I would ask for a shop selling beer I would bechased out. You can really feel the pressure when walking in those places. Isometimes go to take photos to the old side but never alone. The people therehave nothing to do with real Turkish Islam” (Didem, 28, photographer/artist,lives and works in Beyoğlu).

The subdivisions within districts can also be very different. Fatih, the Ottomandistrict with its famous imperial monuments is simultaneously a centre of massivetourist industry, also divided into enclaves with luxurious hotels, streets dominatedwith more modest hostels for the backpacker market, and further towards the westerntransport hub of Aksaray, accommodation catering mostly for ‘suitcase tourists’ fromEastern European and former Soviet countries, separated from the conservativeIslamic neighbourhoods between crowded markets and historical sights. From thedescriptions that I gathered, it became clear that even people who had migrated intoIstanbul very recently were acutely aware of the shared definitions of particular areas

6 The specific character of Turkish Republican secularism has been contested on various grounds (see e.g.Altınay 2004; Azak 2010). For the purposes of this essay, I have chosen to follow Azak’s use of secularismas “referring to the doctrine that morality, national education, and the state itself should not be based onreligious principles, a doctrine which can gain specific meanings in different political and historicalcontexts” (2010:8) instead of laicism with connotations with the specifically French Jacobin tradition(see Bowen 2007).

36 Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51

notwithstanding that they would not correspond to the reality that they encountered.In the case of the subdivisions of Beyoğlu, the urban centre across the Golden Horn,descriptions became even more intricate and contested, often depending on where thenarrator wanted to situate him/herself.

The attributes of Beyoğlu7 are endlessly reflected in contemporary Turkish liter-ature, cinema and fine arts. Above all, its central boulevard Istiklal Caddesi has adistinct urban history and signifies a symbolic space of freedom and individualityunlike any other in Turkey. Nostalgia for its multicultural past and the emergence ofspecifically Turkish modernity in its surroundings is emphasized both in the ubiqui-tous souvenir stalls selling memorabilia depicting its cosmopolitan Golden Age in thebeginning of the 20th century, but even this legacy is understood in different ways.

Different articulations of the character of the area became evident on my first visitto Istanbul in 2003 and further intensified while conducting my fieldwork in 2005and 2008–2009. I learned gradually to recognize differences between peoplefrequenting Beyoğlu, how its streets and squares had shared reputations, how en-counters between people were enacted in terms of class and gender and how theatmosphere could change rapidly during national holidays and other celebrations. Thesymbolic boundaries separating spaces could be flexible and contextual changeswould be eagerly commented by people who claimed the area as theirs. Many womenpointed specifically at the massive New Year celebrations along Istiklal Caddesi as arecurring problem because groups of young men would then harass women in chaoticcrowds. These people were often referred to as outsiders who could not controlthemselves in urban spaces. The ability to recognize features of the area and tosituate them into wider cultural and historical narratives were heatedly debated.

My ten-month doctoral fieldwork in 2008–2009 consisted mostly of participantobservation, informal discussions and semi-structured interviews with people whoexpressed a sense of belonging to particular spaces in Beyoğlu. Here, I will concen-trate mostly on young men who resided in the adjacent poor neighbourhoods butoften had informal and irregular jobs in the centre. My data consists of systematiccollection of notions of significant spaces, symbolic boundaries and valued practicesassociated with them. During my fieldwork I learned that historical narratives, issuesof individual freedom and gender relations intersected with senses of belongingranging from kinship to ephemeral subcultural groupings. Different groups wouldembrace similar values but often justify them in incommensurable ways. The narra-tive of multicultural and tolerant Beyoğlu was a common topic to reflect upontransformations of the modern Turkey:

‘The atmosphere of old Beyoğlu is gone. There are just some authentic cafesand restaurants left—otherwise it is just about money and fake nostalgia. ManyTurks are buying it anyway and come from all around the country to do theirshopping here and have coffee in Starbucks” (Hakan 31, artist, lives inTophane).

7 Beyoğlu municipality includes the districts of Tophane and Tarlabaşı but Beyoğlu is commonly used inspeech to refer to the urban core around Istiklal Caddesi. Sometimes Taksim (referring to either the squareat the end of Istiklal Caddesi or the whole area), Istiklal (referring also to its side streets) or even the oldGreek name Pera (when referring to the nostalgic character of the area) are used.

Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51 37

“Beyoğlu is the best area of Istanbul. It has always been a place for differentcultures to meet. Here I can be myself unlike in any other place. There arepeople from all over the world and everyone gets along with each other(Ridvan, 29, waiter, lives in Tarlabaşı).

The classic image of multicultural past—Greek, Armenian, Jewish and Levantineminorities living in relative harmony with Europeanized Turks—is nowadays aliveonly in the nostalgic consumer items, for only fragments of the minority communitiesare left. In spatial terms, Istiklal Caddesi, formerly called Grande Rue de Pera byEuropeans or Cadde-i Kebir (Grand Street) by the Turks, also differs from the spatialarrangements of the traditional neighbourhoods: based on the model of a wideParisian boulevard, it is described as an egalitarian public space where differencesare tolerated and disparity of opinions is defined as the expression of freedom incontrast to the traditional neighbourhoods (mahalle), where the similarity of peopleand the uniformity of their ways is defined as the product and image of theiroppression (Özyürek 2006:76, Robins and Aksoy 1995:229). However, the conceptof mahalle also carries with it positive connotations of solidarity and a sense of self-sufficient community that provides security to its inhabitants. Its positive attributeshave even been employed to promote the communal values of gated communitiesoutside the city centre. 8I argue, that in Istanbul the conflict between secularism andIslam and, especially the definition of ‘good’ and ‘bad’Muslims is largely formulatedin spatial terms where symbolic boundaries are drawn across the cityscape. At thecore of these complex sets of definitions is the concept of mahalle—an Arabicloanword that describes the smallest administrative unit dating from the times ofthe Ottoman Istanbul. Şerif Mardin points out how Atatürk’s Republican reformsemphasized the reorganisation of mahalles:

“to establish a ‘new collective identity’ where religion was no longer of anydetermining power, and were intended to liberate the individual from the‘idiocy of traditional, community-oriented life’. The secularisation of dailysocial life and the independence of the individuals could only be realised bybreaking the traditional social relationships and destroying the power of theimam at the local level of the mahalle” (in Gül 2006:79).

In the developmental discourse of Turkish modernity, architectural modernism andcity planning have played a central role in production of the Republican citizens. Incontrast to Istanbul’s complex set of social relations between different communitiesgoverning their respective neighbourhoods, founding of Ankara as the capital of theRepublic was seen as a solution to establish a new sense of untainted national identity(Duben 2011). In Istanbul the desired Republican subject was expected to find its wayout from the mahalles into the rationally divided and egalitarian space of modern city.Exemplary symbolic battles of massive scale were played out in Ankara in the earlyyears of the Republic and many of the same issues are still prevalent in discourses ofgentrification in Istanbul.9

8 See www.mahalleistanbul.com9 The complex history of architectural discourses is outside the scope of this essay. See Kezer (2009, 2010)for a detailed discussion of the friction between modernist planning and informal settlements in Ankara.

38 Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51

Mahalles are also distinguished from the urban centre in relation to public space.Whereas Istiklal Caddesi cuts across districts and connects them for all the citizens topromenade in the open space, mahalles are associated with the spiralling cul-de-sacs,and a strong sense of territoriality. They are associated with honour to be defended; aself-governed system of control that ensures that Islamic norms are observed, thewomen are to be protected and that the people outside the neighbourhood are notexpected to wander within its boundaries freely (see Gül 2006; Özyürek 2006;Kandiyoti 2002). When I inquired about the nature of the gallery attacks inTophane, the mentality and the dynamics of the mahalle were pointed out by some.The observing eyes everywhere could be mobilized to action quickly when theboundaries of unwritten rules had been crossed. However, the complex definitionsof what honour and especially ‘Islamic norms’ consist of are easily brushed aside bymany and become to signify a general mindset of the mahalle-dwellers in negativeterms. Further, this picture of two Istanbuls becomes blurred when the movement ofpeople across spatial boundaries and their capability to understand, internalise and actaccording to different sets of norms is acknowledged.

The mayor’s metaphor above of Istanbul as a country rather than a city fits well tothe realities that I encountered. The images of the role of religion and ethniccomposition in different districts were shared across the city even if they mightdeviate from the contemporary realities. Districts and their boundaries were constant-ly evaluated in relation to their appropriate norms and on the scale of their accessi-bility and some were perceived as very distant from each other. However, the shiftbetween accessible public space of the urban centre and tightly controlled space ofmahalles could be a gradual transformation or an abrupt rupture with a geographi-cally marked boundary. In Beyoğlu both cases are present with interestingconsequences.

Istiklal, Tarlabaşı and Tophane

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I found the internal divisions of Beyoğlu a recurring topic in discussions withpeople from all social classes. Many who wanted to emphasize their modern andurban identities described Tophane and Tarlabaşı districts, on the south and northfrom Istiklal Caddesi, as mahalles, or at least mahalle-like, often with undertones ofcorrupt combination of the strictly territorialized traditional Ottoman setting with theworst sides of the urban development. The most distinct boundary within Beyoğlumarks the difference between the peak of urbanity around Istiklal Caddesi and thenotorious impoverished Tarlabaşı neighbourhood. The areas are adjacent to eachother but separated by Tarlabaşı Bulvarı (Boulevard), a busy six-lane road that wasbuilt 1986–1988 to provide quick access from the historical peninsula in the southacross Atatürk Bridge, to the traffic hub of the Taksim Square at the end of IstiklalCaddesi, and further to the northern suburbs. Tarlabaşı has a long history as acommunity of mostly Greek and Armenian residents but nowadays only few remainand the population consists mostly of Roma who moved to the district after manyprevious inhabitants left in 1950’s; impoverished Kurds, many of whom have escapedthe civil war in Eastern Turkey from the 1990s on; and, even more recently, acommunity of illegal North African immigrants, many on their way to WesternEurope. Both Tarlabaşı’s inhabitants and other Istanbulites often described crossingthe Tarlabaşı Bulvarı from the Istiklal side to me as moving into another world inspace and time. The sense of boundary is further emphasized by police identitychecks on the Tarlabaşı side of the underpasses and a 24-h presence of an armyvehicle with a water cannon, which is used to calm down the frequent demonstrationsagainst marginalisation and impoverishment in the area. In comparison to this, theboundary on the other side of Istiklal to Tophane is not as physically visible and theshift is rather gradual in the mental mappings of the city centre.

In contrast to the mystery of Tarlabaşı, Tophane district was considered moreaccessible to non-residents—the popular thoroughfare from central GalatasaraySquare on Istiklal Caddesi to the Bosporus shore runs through Tophane’sBoğazkesen Street (where the gallery attacks occurred). Boğazkesen was seen as arapidly gentrifying space that had started to increasingly resemble the urban hub withits new galleries, backpacker hostels and shops selling furniture and handicraftsappealing to middle-class tastes, but its narrow side streets still gave an appearanceof the defining characteristics of a mahalle: modest neighbourhood mosques withmen wearing Islamic attire in their vicinity, packs of children roaming the streets,laundry hanging across the street, tiny bakkal-groceries on the side streets catering forlocals and all-male neighbourhood cafes. The picture was still not homogeneous:while the sinister side of Tarlabaşı was immediately discernible in the seedy night-clubs and open sex trade along Tarlabaşı Bulvarı, the history of Tophane as a locationof Turkey’s largest brothel complex was more of a historical remnant, and evenprided feature on guided tours of the area.10

Some tourists strayed into the maze of alleyways from Istiklal Caddesi but manyTurks were uneasy entering what they saw as a private and guarded zone within thecity. The atmosphere was not considered as particularly threatening or unwelcomingbut rather private and related to the historical construct of mahalle in both its good

10 See http://www.invisibleistanbul.org/ud/node5.html for a tour description that claims nostalgically thatthe remaining brothel is on a “street that seems to be frozen in time”

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and bad features. The spread of the urban atmosphere within Tophane, radiating fromBoğazkesen Street, was popular topic because it contained so many conflictinginterests, senses of belonging and, generally, complex ideas of the future ofIstanbul. The aftermath of the gallery attacks provided a possibility to voice theconfusion of unresolved questions of the future of Istanbul. The simplistic general-izations and juxtapositions of secular urbanity and traditional Islamic communitiesrooted in the foundational discourses of the early Republic were becoming mixed inunexpected ways with local politics, new forms of public and private economicinterests and neoliberal configurations of real estate market. In many occasions I feltthat simplistic definitions of cultural factors acted as an easy way out of the labyrinththat was constantly reshaped.

When I mentioned in casual conversations that I was living in Tarlabaşı, I learnedquickly that for people not familiar with the area, it had become a symbol ofeverything that has gone wrong in Istanbul’s urban development and is associatedwith these malaises with paradoxical descriptions: it is seen at once as a centre of drugtrade, prostitution and gang-related violence; a breeding ground for extremist Islamistmovements associated with ‘Saudi Islam’11; and centre for Kurdish separatist move-ments affiliated with PKK and its offshoots. These seemingly incompatible charac-teristics were associated with the whole district by non-residents: when I wonderedhow radicalized Islamists would tolerate the numerous brothels and disreputablenightclubs the answers were confused. Often the narrow alleyways of the area wereseen as intricate dividing lines between different dangerous groups. Thus the socio-spatial concept of mahalle, with different groups controlling the degrees of accessi-bility and exclusion of the people according to shifting relations and circumstances,was extended to the indecipherable maze just across the boundary from the core ofurbanity. On another level, the corruptive atmosphere of this extreme case of failedmodernization was linked directly to the susceptibility of its inhabitants to adopt anyideology offered to them. The popular themes of foreignness and lack of self-controland self-reflection in the sudden rupture into the modernity (see Öncü 2002; Ayata2002; Navaro-Yashin 2002a) were abundant in these descriptions.

The repeated claim of the self-confessed urbanites was that the people in Tarlabaşıhad entered Istanbul’s urban core too rapidly without skills to cope with the newsense of urban life. Consequently, their authentic folk culture had been replaced withcorrupt and foreign half-breed urbanity labelled under the umbrella term arabesk,12

their tolerant Anatolian Islamic culture had been infiltrated with fanaticism andradical Islamism, and their economic village solidarities had transformed into ultra-capitalism in the forms of drug trade and prostitution. The resulting pseudo-urbanOther, who was exposed to the urbanity but deviated from its positive outcomes inevery possible way resembled a mystery hidden in the labyrinth of Tarlabaşı’sinaccessible and curvy lanes where visitors were not welcome. The mystery wasfurther intensified because people living in other areas only rarely set foot in

11 ‘Saudi Islam’ is an umbrella term that some of my informants used informally to refer to Islamicmovements that were seen as incompatible with Turkish society. The great differences between strands ofradical Islam were brushed aside while their foreignness was emphasized.12 Not to be confused with an ornamental design, in the contemporary Turkish context Arabesk refers to thepopular style of music with influences from Arabic-pop genre with wider connotations with the wholelifestyle of the rural migrants.

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Tarlabaşı, the exception being its popular Sunday market when the masses of visitorsseemed to guarantee a safe passage to the market.13

Crossing the boundary—the mahalle and the urban sphere

Tarlabaşı is a region that threatens Istanbul’s safety. We do not even know whoits residents are—Sinan Genim, architect, Yeni Mimar magazine, Nov. 2007.14

Most of my informants in Tarlabaşı were Kurds from the South-East who hadmigrated to Istanbul to escape the civil war and settled into Tarlabaşı—not becausethey liked the district but because they already had family members and relativesliving in the area and it was possible to find modest jobs as waiters, runners, streetsvendors or in construction or renovation industries in the adjacent areas. They praisedthe suburbs further from the centre for their safety, better housing and generalcleanliness but there was also a sense of pride for living in close proximity to theurban centre. I became acquainted with males between 20 and 35 years of age whofrequently expressed their longing to their homes villages in the South–East but saw itimpossible to return there because there were no jobs and, importantly, because theyfelt that they had changed as a result of their urban encounter and could not return tothe monotonous and closed life in the village.

“Now when I have some money, I feel that is important to travel to Mardin (cityin the Southeast) to visit my relatives occasionally. That is where I come frombut Istanbul is my home. I could not move back.” (Şirwan 27, office attendant,lives in Tarlabaşı).

The idea of being modern, cosmopolitan and urban was on everyone’s lips andthey clearly distinguished themselves from their country-cousins or from people wholived in gecekondu15 housing in the outskirts of the city. At the same time, allemphasized the importance of being good Muslims as well as carriers of theirregional traditions. They saw themselves as very different from those who werefollowing their religion and tradition blindly and not able to fuse it with the neces-sities of urban life. Self-reflection was the key to survive in the rapidly changingenvironment and one needed to develop new skills to act appropriately in differentcontexts. This was serious work that demanded the tactical improvisation and con-stant reflection in absorbing new ideas without compromising the valued ethicalprinciples. According to my informants, the blind adherence of fixed traditions wouldlead to social isolation and failure. It was also important for them to associate oneselfwith the cosmopolitan future of Turkey—the relatives and friends who had migratedto Western Europe were part of the global network, new mobile phones were

13 During my fieldwork in 2008-2009, Tarlabaşı had already started to have connotations as an emergingbohemian enclave with the expected influx of artists and students moving in. My later correspondenceshows that these developments have gradually intensified but their consequences are yet to be seen.14 http://database.becomingistanbul.com/#/media/332/85008741015 The word Gecekondu refers to the old Ottoman customary law (adat) that makes it possible to buildsquatter housing on condition that the house is built in one night – nobody sees it being built so it must havealways been there. It is nowadays a general term for the accommodation of the rural migrants.

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constantly used to keep in contact with them and social medias like Facebook hadbecome an integral part of their life-worlds. Many spent a substantial part of theirmeagre incomes on what they saw as absolutely necessary ways to participate in theseaspects of globalized modernity.

However, in the physical environment it was easy to find patterns that do fit intothe stereotypical ideas of mahalle and the urban centre. In Tarlabaşı some of thehousing is squatted from abandoned buildings that would be too costly to renovate,operated through distant landlords via various middle men (also described as mafia),or, increasingly, through formal arrangements with real estate agencies. On manystreets the buildings are shared with people from same region and there are frequentclashes between different ethnic or regional factions. The environment is character-istically dominated with traditional coffeehouses, neighbourhood mosques and smallfamily-run businesses and, contrasted to more anonymous Istiklal area, they wereseen as important expressions of the sense of belonging into the neighbourhood.Many prayed regularly and voiced bitter critiques of the secularist urbanites whomthey blamed for abandoning Islam in their blind imitation of the Western countries.On the one hand, to take care of the poor and protect one’s mahalle or its subdivisionto the best of one’s ability was also expressed in terms of a religious duty and a sourceof pride. On the other, to be conscious and able to reflect critically on the religiousand traditional aspects of one’s life in opposition to the blind and closed provincialmentality of the distant past was discussed constantly. The essentials of urban life andthe opening of the wider world were summarized well in Ridvan’s explanation:

“I now live in city and know about these things. I know that Islam is the truereligion but I have to have respect for the other religions. My parents (from avillage close to Mardin, now deceased) would call all non-Muslims kafirs and saythey are like animals but that was because they did not know about the worldoutside. If they would have lived in Istanbul, they would have been different.”

The urban centre and mahalle were clearly separated as two distinct spaces withdifferent sets of values but my informants emphasized their ability to live in bothworlds comfortably. Some things that were despised in the tightly knit network ofsolidarities and loyalties were seen as appropriate, even celebrated, features in theurban sphere that people could participate in as free individuals. For example, barsserving alcohol were generally not wanted in the neighbourhood but frequentlyvisited on the other side. The distinction worked also in the other way: Ahmet, a25-year old construction and renovation worker who had lived in Tarlabaşı for almostten years, was also especially devout but argued that the only mosque along the twokilometres of Istiklal Caddesi was in an inappropriate place and contrary to theatmosphere of the area. However, there were many open questions about what wouldbe the appropriate moral norms in different situations: wearing a headscarf wasgenerally held as a pious practice but many said that they did not want to go toIstiklal in covered company because it would attract hostile stares from secularistsand they would be treated like uncivilized country folk or, worse, as politicallyaffiliated Islamists. When I discussed this issue with young women living inTarlabaşı they emphasized in a very straightforward way that they need to adapt theirclothing for different situations: ‘You would dress up differently when going tomosque or visiting your grandparents than when going to cafes along Istiklal

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(Deniz, 26, works occasionally in family-run grocery store)’. These questions wereconstantly discussed and I was often asked for an opinion of the appropriate urbannorms. What struck me was the extremely detailed knowledge of the urban codes inappearances and manners that my friends had learned in their encounters withIstiklal’s self-confessed urbanites.

For the young people of Tarlabaşı, the urban self could coexist with traditional andreligious attitudes without compromise if the existence of different frameworks formoral behaviour were recognized. These people, portrayed as ‘rootless urban under-class,’ were acutely aware what different segments of the society thought about thembut wanted to play with this difference in their own terms. The sense of urbanity hadbecome essential to their lives: they complained about the crowds and noise in thecentre (like any true Istanbulite) and longed for more peaceful environments but saidthat they were simultaneously seduced by Beyoğlu:

“Now, when I am married, I would like to move to Bahçelievler (middle-classsuburb on the old side of the city) but I feel that I need to keep my other foot inBeyoğlu to see what is happening in the world” (Ridvan).

This is not to say that the whole population of Tarlabaşı shared these thoughts andaspirations. As my informants recognized, it is also home to very conservativefamilies who rarely venture across the boundary to Istiklal and, given the choiceand job opportunities, would gladly move to the districts where Islam plays largerrole in the public space. However, it was easy to find true masters in these classifi-cations who were comfortable with the norms of both the centre and their mahalle.For them, the frequently crossed spatial boundary guided the appropriate behaviourand transformed both morals and practices into complex frameworks of meaning ondifferent levels. These ranged from elaborate considerations of grand ideologies intoephemeral details of appearances and consumer choices. Often they were intricatelytied into shared narratives of Turkish modernity and urbanity from the acknowledgedperspective of ones who do not conform into its developmental model. In a curiousway, the familiar rhetoric of ‘two Istanbuls’ was employed tactically to reach con-clusions that differed wildly from the popular historical narrative. It connectedeveryday life with grand historical narratives and brought credibility to one’sopinions.

Turkish history written in the cityscape

The competing understandings of Turkish history are a constant feature of intricateacademic discussions as well as informal talk in Istanbul. However, both seem oftenobsessed in differentiating specific eras and identifying changes as ruptures that shakethe very foundations of societal structures. Especially the birth of the Republic in1923 is separated from the Ottoman era in foundational terms as two differentcivilizations (Meeker 2002; Altınay 2004). According to the Republican ideology,the chain of the ancient Anatolian civilizations of originally Central Asian Turksfound its natural continuation in the Republic as a true realization of the ‘Turkishessence’. The 700 years of the Ottoman Empire along with Sultanate and Caliphateare presented as cultural corruptions rather than a glorious chapter in the history of

44 Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51

Islam (Kandiyoti 2002:10). The Republican revolution is widely presented as releas-ing the intrinsically modern characteristics of the Turks that had been suppressed byculturally foreign Ottomans. The thoroughly modernist standards of the progressiveTurkish nation were summarized neatly in the words of Atatürk as being based “noton the lethargic mentality of the past centuries but on the concepts of speed andmovement that define our century” (in Kasaba 1997:26).

Alongside the secularist ideological arguments of the natural egalitarianism ofancient Turkic tribes in contrast to the Islamic inequality and segregation of the sexes,the progressive nationalistic project was concerned in marking the difference from theOttoman times with radical reforms: the regulations of outward appearance throughprohibition of the fez headgear, control of the places of worship by turning Aya Sofia(Hagia Sophia) mosque into a museum, and representational reforms of changing thealphabet from Arabic into Latin and calendar from Islamic to Gregorian are amongthe most foundational. They have been challenged from both positions throughout theRepublican history: during the military coup in 1980, the secularist military govern-ment prohibited veiling in universities and government buildings, and among theIslamic circles there are frequent calls to reconvert Aya Sofia back into a mosque aswell as to build a massive mosque in the Taksim square in Beyoğlu. The themes ofthe early Republican reforms are constantly employed with different contours oftradition and modernity, nationalism and ethnic difference and related to differenthistorical and spatial understandings of Islam.

In relation to social hierarchies, the elitist character of the Republican moderniza-tion is particularly interesting, for the reforms were extended differently to theperceived elites and the masses. Atatürk’s adopted daughter Sabiha Gökçen, whobecame the world’s first female combat pilot when she enrolled into military flightschool in 1936, was presented to the public and to the wider world as an example ofequality of sexes but a different message was sent to the great masses of women.They were expected to contribute modernization not as elite professionals but ashousewives á la the West, operating in the private realm (Arat 1997:100). Accordingto this view, the vast masses of the country would be entering the modernity graduallywith the help of the self-confessed modernizers. Here the spatial vision of the reach ofthe modernity is important. The huge influx of migrants from Anatolian towns andvillages into Istanbul, at an accelerating pace from 1950s on, was perceived usingframework of distances and exposures to the modern core. The informal Gecekondusquatter communities located mostly in the outskirts of the city were seen as an aptresolution for the gradual modernization of the masses for it would provide balancebetween their contacts with the urban core and life in their communities governed bytheir ‘traditional’ values (Keyder 1997; Öncü 2002). The teleological argument of theTurkish ‘essence’ expressed in clear terms that the masses would come to terms withtheir natural tendencies to modernize when they would be exposed to Republicanmodernity in a controlled manner.

However, the belief in the integration of the rural population into the urban spherestarted to wither in the 1970’s when it became widely recognized, especially by theRepublican reformers, that the migrants were not following the straightforwarddevelopmentalist model but had created their own forms of urbanity. The images ofpurity and authenticity of the country folk were being lost in the eyes of the urbanelites and replaced with a rhetoric of invasion of Istanbul by a hybrid and corrupt

Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51 45

arabesk culture (Öncü 2002: 184–185, Stokes 1992). The Anatolian elements, in-stitutions, beliefs or cultures had not disappeared, nor had they become aestheticized‘folk culture’ of traditional performances but were instead deeply internalised andheld in high esteem.

Many academics trace the intensification of these developments to Turkey’s rapidintegration into the global capitalism in the late 1980s and early 1990s and theincreasing importance of identity politics that have transformed the urban environ-ment (Öncü 2002:173–175, Navaro-Yashin 2002b:223). Among my informants, therecurrent emphasis on cultivating distinct identity (kimlik) that enables an individualto reflect on his/her actions was considered as the most crucial factor of desiredmodern identity and something that the masses were seen to lack. It was conceptu-alized as something necessary to take part in the universal civilization expressed inthe Turkish word cağdaş, that has a wide spectrum of meanings from ‘contemporary’to ‘civilized’ and ‘modern’. It was often contrasted with the word yerel which literallymeans local but also has a temporal dimension of something traditional as well as‘cultural’ in opposition to modern universal civilization (see Navaro-Yashin2002a:23–24, Kandiyoti 2002:4). Of course, these concepts should be taken asheuristic utilities, deployed in specific ways to illuminate historically specific phe-nomena rather than descriptions of empirical realities. Furthermore, the critique of thelack of self-reflection was directed not only toward those seen to be following blindlytheir Islamic traditions but also to the staunch secularists who were seen as increas-ingly paranoid about perceived threats to the secular order. New ideas of reflectivecosmopolitanism that would acknowledge cultural specificities but equally allowparticipation in the global civilisation were at the core of their experience of contem-porary Istanbul.

The emphasis on authentic Turkishness together with the divide between the urbanelites and ignorant masses was used widely to categorize people in very detailedways. It just seemed that, compared to the early Republican modernity, the situationhad become more complex with new significant dimensions to describe one’s andother’s place in the society. One’s relationship to Islam remained central in variousdefinitions but these were not static: the spatial dimension played an important role indescribing what was seen as appropriate appearance or behaviour in a particular placeand context. Among my informants living in Tarlabaşı, the balanced combination ofthe authenticity with fundamental senses of belonging into Islamic and traditionalcommunities, and urban mentality with capacities to cope in a multitude of differentsituations and spatial spheres, constituted their ideal identities.

In contrast to authenticity, the notion of foreign, particularly as a deviation fromthe developmentalist path was a recurrent theme among those who felt excluded fromthe elitist project of modernization. Turkish word yabancı has a wide range ofconnotations from spatially foreign to contrary of the societal norms. It was alsowidely used to associate particular elements and practices of Islam as belonging intoOttomans or ‘Saudi Islam,’ and, thus, foreign to Turks. According to the officialRepublican reading of the history, the spatial foreignness of their origins as well astheir temporal backwardness were seen in negative light (Özyürek 2006; Navaro-Yashin 2002a). In comparison to the Republican revolution as a genuine culturalrebirth and a beginning of a progressive future, many secularists saw the rise of neo-Ottomanism, a current of thought that celebrates the Ottoman past and pious public

46 Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51

sphere and argues that they could be applied beneficially to the contemporary urbanexistence (see Walton 2010), as a sign of cultural decadence which can only bringforth “the simulacra of a dead past” (cf. Sahlins 2000:479). The inclusion of Muslimschallenging Republican ideals in the modern public space, otherwise celebrated for itsdiversity, was rejected on grounds of their inauthenticity, foreignness and anti-modernity. The people living in the inaccessible mystery of mahalles were held asexamples of a continuing oppressive social fabric of the past as well as prone to theinfluences of foreign radical influences, for the chaotic urbanity of Istanbul had tornthe newcomers violently from their roots and corrupted their authentic identities. Theparadoxical condemnation of both the strictly controlled traditional mahalle valuesand the easily radicalized rootless underclass lost in urban Istanbul, were reflected inthe image of Tarlabaşı, and there were interestingly structured ideas to transform thedistrict.

Transforming mahalle

Unlike districts like Fatih on the old imperial side of the Golden Horn or Üsküdar asone of the oldest settlements on the Asian side of the Bosporus, Tarlabaşı did not havea long history as a Muslim district with old mosques and medreses. The former twohad an image of Muslim spaces as self-sufficient and conservative districts occupiedby pious folk since the Ottoman conquest. They were also separated from the specificurbanity of Beyoğlu geographically by water and thought as distinct cities, notthreatening its urban atmosphere. In contrast, the run-down buildings of Tarlabaşıcould even be seen at places from Istiklal Caddesi and many of its inhabitants workedon the Istiklal side and spent much of their time in the area. Thus they were in aconstant face-to-face interaction with the self-proclaimed urbanites who only rarelyventured to what they labelled under the term mahalle. Their idea of what lay acrossTarlabaşı Boulevard was mostly based on circulating rumours and often sensationalistnews reports of its criminals, drug addicts, extreme poverty and violent demonstra-tions, whereas most of Tarlabaşı’s inhabitants had plenty of first-hand experience oflife on both sides. As their livelihoods depended greatly on the wealthier segments ofthe society, their ‘imaginative identification’ with their superiors, the importance ofdetailed knowledge of how social relations really work, had brought them mastery inreading the urban signifiers and practices, in contrast to people who had verygeneralised and stereotypical understandings of them (see Graeber 2006:8).

Many of the issues can be summarized neatly in the ongoing discussion ofthe urban renewal of Tarlabaşı. Often its inhabitants arouse pity but are alsoheld responsible for crimes around Istiklal. Interestingly, the properties of thedistrict are often held responsible for its problems: “after years of swatting atmosquitoes, the swamp will now be drained” (a police officer for NPR in2007).16 The ongoing renewal project to reconstruct 20,000 square meters ofthe district portrays vividly the undesirable elements and suggests a historicallycoherent model for their purification.

16 http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=11965693

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48 Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51

These ‘before-after’ photos from the official www.tarlabasiyenileniyor.com(Tarlabaşı is being renewed) show how the dark and chaotic mahalle environmentwill be transformed into orderly modernity exemplified by clean and safe streetsoccupied by the citizens conforming to appearances of secular Turkey. In future,veiled women are nowhere to be seen and hanging laundry with Anatolian designsdoes not block the sunlight. On the right, the woman dressed in traditional style andsomewhat observing the street is substituted with an uncovered woman wearing a t-shirt who seems perfectly at ease with her environment. The overall image oftransforming a dilapidated and sinister environment into an egalitarian public spacein the tradition of the grand narratives of the modernist urban planners (see Berman1983) signifies the opening of the mahalle for responsible citizens who act as freeindividuals and operate comfortably in the secular cityscape of modernity. The strictnorms of the closed neighbourhoods, governed by unreflective obedience to Islamicpractices and appearances in the public space need to be ‘blown out’, as I heard manyTurks say. These discussions do not focus on rationalized or detailed characteristics ofa location but target a historically justified developmental narrative, a mindsetcombined with specific spatial organization of social relations. The current situationand the imagined future of Tarlabaşı provides a perfect example of these complexprocesses in action.

Conclusion

Would the mob attacks in Tophane’s art galleries be prevented with measures plannedin Tarlabaşı? Discussion of massive transformations in Istanbul’s demography andarchitecture are still largely based on the early Republican ideals of progress and strictsocietal categories. According this view, the swamps and jungles continue to breedmosquitoes and sudden epidemics until they are drained of the polluting agents andforced to conform to a dominant urban order. This spatial conceptualisation ofIstanbul ignores both the rapid sociocultural dynamics in gentrifying areas and therealities of people who constantly cross symbolic boundaries and thus negotiate theirways through the cityscape. In everyday practices there is a constant dialoguebetween positions: the ability to understand different sets of values and navigatebetween different moral frameworks is a crucial component of the urban experience.However, the simplistic classification of people into unreflective masses and reflec-tive individuals has provided a persistent framework that is denied and even ridiculedbut nevertheless used to validate arguments across the societal spectrum.

Among my informants in Tarlabaşı the simplistic extremes were avoided. Both theextreme secularists and Islamists were essentially defined by their inability to reflectcritically on the modern world. They were routinely seen as corrupt and inauthenticoutcomes of Turkish modernity—the desired outcome, a reflective self that couldcross social boundaries and feel at home in different contexts was fundamentallydifferent from these positions. The emphasis was laid on a truly urban and modernself that could operate in a multitude of global modernity without compromisingone’s foundational values. However, the complex practices of flexible moral com-munities are incommensurable with the rigid spatial orderings and developmentaldynamics of Istanbul. The gentrification projects in mahalles continue to play a major

Cont Islam (2013) 7:33–51 49

role in violent eruptions such as the gallery attack in Tophane, but it seems that theanswer from the dominant sectors of the society has been to introduce more author-itarian measures to fight the age-old threats hindering the teleological path of theTurkish modernity.

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On Tophane attacks

http://bianet.org/bianet/toplum/125022-tophanehaber-com-nefret-kiskirtmaya-devam-ediyor-halahttp://www.haberler.com/galeri-sahipleri-bu-orgutlu-saldiri-tophane-2248144-haberi/http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/n.php?n=the-attack-on-the-art-galleries-2010-09-24http://kamilpasha.com/?p=3470http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/11/world/europe/11iht-m11CTophane.html?pagewanted=allhttp://www.radikal.com.tr/Default.aspx?aType=RadikalHaberDetay&Date=22.09.2010&ArticleID=

1020180http://www.tophanehaber.com/goster.asp?nereye=yazioku&ID=134

Other websites

http://www.tarlabasiyenileniyor.com/foto_galeri/default.aspx?SectionId=1320http://www.foxnews.com/world/2010/09/26/turkey-culture-clash-gangs-assault-art-galleries-opening-

night/http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jan/02/dispatch-istanbul-most-dynamic-cityhttp://database.becomingistanbul.com/#/media/332/850087410http://www.invisibleistanbul.org/ud/node5.htmlhttp://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=11965693

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