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YILLIK: Annual of Istanbul Studies
3 (2021)
YILLIK is a peer-reviewed annual journal, published simultaneously in print and online (via Dergipark).
Editorial Board
Editor: M. Baha Tanman, Istanbul University (emeritus); Istanbul Research Institute
Managing Editor: K. Mehmet Kentel, Istanbul Research Institute
Emir Alışık, Istanbul Research Institute
Brigitte Pitarakis, Centre national de la recherche scientifique; Istanbul Research Institute
Gülrû Tanman, Istanbul Research Institute
Advisory Board
Aslıhan Akışık, Bahçeşehir University
Engin Akyürek, Koç University
Serpil Bağcı, Hacettepe University
Sarah Bassett, Indiana University
Cem Behar
Sibel Bozdoğan, Boston University
Ayfer Bartu Candan, Boğaziçi University
Zeynep Çelik, New Jersey Institute of Technology
Koray Durak, Boğaziçi University
Ayşe Erek, Kadir Has University
Ahmet Ersoy, Boğaziçi University
Walter Feldman, New York University, Abu Dhabi
Emine Fetvacı, Boston University
Murat Güvenç, Kadir Has University
Shirine Hamadeh, Koç University
Ivana Jevtić, Koç University
Cemal Kafadar, Harvard University
Çiğdem Kafescioğlu, Boğaziçi University
Leyla Kayhan Elbirlik, Özyeğin University
Selim S. Kuru, University of Washington
Tuna Kuyucu, Boğaziçi University
Gülru Necipoğlu, Harvard University
Nevra Necipoğlu, Boğaziçi University
Tarkan Okçuoğlu, Istanbul University
Rana Özbal, Koç University
Mehmet Özdoğan, Istanbul University
Christine Philliou, University of California, Berkeley
Ünver Rüstem, Johns Hopkins University
Turgut Saner, Istanbul Technical University
Uğur Tanyeli, İstinye University
Ceylan Tözeren, Boğaziçi University
Uşun Tükel, Istanbul University
Title history
2012–2018 | İstanbul Araştırmaları Yıllığı / Annual of Istanbul Studies, 1–7
2019– | YILLIK: Annual of Istanbul Studies
Mode of publication: Worldwide periodical, published annually every December
Note to contributors: YILLIK: Annual of Istanbul Studies accepts submissions in English and Turkish. Articles should conform
to the usage of The Chicago Manual of Style (CMOS), 17th edition, and to the style guides published on the journal’s website.
Articles in Turkish conform to a customized CMOS style available at the website. Research articles are subject to review by
two anonymous reviewers and the editorial board. All other submissions are reviewed by the editorial board.
Istanbul Research Institute Publications 47
Periodicals 10
Istanbul, December 2021
ISSN: 2687-5012
Publisher: On behalf of the Suna and İnan Kıraç Foundation, Necmettin Tosun
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The views expressed in the articles published in the journal are the authors’ own for which the Istanbul Research Institute
may not be hold accountable. The online edition is open access. Publishing in YILLIK is free of charge. Authors of articles
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publication.
Introduction: Interventions to Istanbul Studies
Koray Durak | Cemal Kafadar | Christine Philliou
The editors of the Interventions to Istanbul Studies series are proud to present these contributions, which together comprise the first round of what will be an ongoing conversation
inspired by the 2020 Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests. While honoring the issues of systemic
racism, oppression, and abuse of power that were and continue to be raised in the context
of the BLM movement, we wanted to invite colleagues in the emerging intellectual field of
Istanbul studies (and more broadly Byzantine, Ottoman, and Turkish studies) to engage broadly
with its own legacies of various exclusionary and discriminatory practices/approaches. This
can certainly mean thinking through the experience of Blackness and racial discrimination in
Ottoman Istanbul and beyond, but the act of “thinking with BLM” within an Istanbul-studies
milieu is, we argue, also much more, and holds even more transformative potential than that.
Critical rethinking is a regular part of scholarship in all fields of historical study, but there are
moments when particular developments—a new body of research quietly building up toward
a critical mass with fresh perspectives, novel methods and approaches enjoying some widely
shared ground among scholars working independently of each other, and world-historical
events that bring the concerns of the public and of intellectuals into a close alignment and
into razor-sharp focus—can trigger a deeply transformative reorientation. In our case, it is
a combination of all of these kinds of developments—and one can add ongoing resonance
of the Gezi movement and the vocal public debate around Turkey’s withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention to the context in which BLM offered inspiration—that prepared a fertile
ground, we thought, for our “Meclis” to offer a forum for a sustained critical engagement by
scholars of Istanbul studies with their field. In other words, the transposition is timely and
meaningful because pioneering works have already been articulating similar concerns and
critical perspectives on the scholarly literature on Istanbul. It is time to bring that critical
reassessment regarding the exclusionary practices of the field and the new horizons pregnant
with emancipatory potential front and center into the conversation.
As readers will see, there are many ways to make this transposition: bringing to light the
intersectionality of racial, ethnic, and gender hierarchies among Istanbul’s subjects and their
histories; imagining a Byzantine history from below; and imagining how we might reverse
the erasure of Armenians and of the Armenian Genocide from Istanbul’s history are meant
to be three of many possible paths forward. Here we provide a brief comparative discussion
of the first three contributions to draw out their commonalties and specificities.
Koray Durak
Boğaziçi University
[email protected]
ORCID: 0000-0003-1233-377X
Cemal Kafadar
Harvard University
[email protected]
ORCID: 0000-0001-6030-4522
Christine Philliou
University of California, Berkeley
[email protected]
ORCID: 0000-0001-5450-2557
Licensed under Creative
Commons Attribution 3.0
Unported (CC BY 3.0)
All three essays in the first dossier draw attention to the internalized and almost instinctive
perspectives (read: prejudices and apologetics) that modern historians have adopted, which
contribute to the creation of new practices of oppression or perpetuate the old ones. The
omnipresence of such distorting and occluding perspectives as the “given”s of scholarship
is confirmed by the diversity of fields (Byzantine and Ottoman), subjects (political, ethnic,
and gender-related), and evidence type (visual, material and written sources) covered in these
essays.
Roland Betancourt reminds us why we should be self-reflexive and open our fields to a self-critical
investigation in the first place. Privileging the experience of the diverse non-elites over the
achievements of “great men” or determinism of economic structures, Betancourt offers an
alternative view alongside the tradition of micro-history/Alltagsgeschichte. In the roots of
this alternative view lies the need to write an ethical history; a type of historiography that
values “the accomplishments of social good” rather than the privileged few, the variety in
human experience rather than the violently imposed norm(al). Such an approach, applied by
Betancourt to the question of what the Hagia Sophia represents, can easily be extended to the
cases of many other individuals or groups who have been denied their voices due to various
MECLİS
YILLIK: Annual of Istanbul Studies 3 (2021): 169–170. https://doi.org/10.53979/yillik.2021.9
170 hierarchies based on sex, religion, gender, “race,” class, nationality, sexual orientation and
gender identity, body, anthropocentricism, etc.
Zavier Wingham’s contribution not only reminds us how perceptions of gender, race, body,
and class interacted with each other through the example of Arap Bacı, making the parsing
of suppression a pretty messy business to deal with, but also shows us the distorting mirrors
preventing us from seeing Arab Bacı as “a self-possessed subject” present in time and place.
While the paucity of primary written sources produced by the suppressed people and the
nature of the available ones (which, unsurprisingly, were written in the language of the dominant discourse) is combined with the indifference of earlier modern scholarship about
embedded discriminations, we find ourselves in the position of a detective with very few
pieces of evidence at the scene of the crime. Fortunately, as the transformative efforts of
the historians of labor, or women, or children, or those of the Subaltern School prove, historians in the last fifty years have equipped themselves with the necessary tools to hear the
voice of the voiceless. Wingham’s use of an 1847 verdict of an Ottoman court in Istanbul on
the treatment of Black slaves as evidence for the “grammar of suffering” of the Black people
shows how much one can get by reading different sources or reading the sources against
the grain. Last but not least, Wingham introduces the language and analytical means, of a
growing literature with fresh insights and perspectives on these matters. This is a literature
that Istanbul studies has not yet been acquainted with in such a way as to establish a regular
relationship to it (as happened with, say, the literature on the history of books and reading—a
safer ground to tread, of course, even if intellectually just as exciting).
Finally, Lerna Ekmekcioglu’s essay can be read as a road map on how to transform our
paradigm that would liberate us from the chains of ongoing oppression. Inspired by the
example set by some American universities to question their own institutions’ role in institutionalized racism past and present, including their involvement in slave ownership,
Ekmekcioglu offers possible paths to reverse/undo the intellectual and practical erasure
of Armenians in Turkey, past and present. It is no less than an invitation to “do otherwise”
towards making Armenian deaths matter and reckoning with the Armenians of today. A
significant part of her road map for the process of healing involves universities, showing
how much responsibility lies on the shoulders of academics for investigating the mechanisms
of silencing. Her map also reveals the extent of the healing which involves the transformation of public life (from monuments to holidays) and the language of the relevant conversation, exposing how deep “ideology” penetrates every corner of the human experience.
YILLIK: Annual of Istanbul Studies 3
In their own way, each contributor also cunningly invites readers to reflect on who “we” are.
Is there more to its frequent use than taking refuge in a presumed consensus, an imagined
collectivity of likeminded colleagues? An invocation of common sense, that comforting
illusion? An indirect salvo at “them,” and an unstated threat at “you,” the dissenters, the
game-changers, the radicals, the newfangled, the upstarts? Can “they/you” even read the
documents?
This gets even more complicated when scholars use “we” diachronically. Some folks of the
past that we study are “us.” Who, then? Arab Bacı? The Turkopouloi? Sokollu Mehmed Pasha?
Patrona Halil? Kantakouzenos? The Assyrian peasants of Mesopotamia? Anna Komnene?
Esther Kyra? Gomidas? Furthermore, are “we” fooling ourselves by assuming that “we” as
scholars can be autonomous from “we” as individuals, with particular gender, racial, ethnic,
and national identities in the world today? To what extent are “we” always embedded in the
power structures in which we live today, and therefore need to “do otherwise” before we
even open our defters or pick up our pens to try to bridge “our” world, where eradicating
racism and all forms of discrimination is a never-ending task, with our role as scholars of
“their” world—the Istanbul of the past in all its messiness and hierarchies. We look forward
to future rounds of this conversation, and this invitation to “think and do otherwise,” both
past and present, and, in our present study of the past of Istanbul.