From Empire to Footrest

Position: 37°03’58″N 38°22’41″E

All great empires fall at some point. Or at least they have so far. The ultimate cause of failure is usually internal. If you’re a small kingdom, a duchy say, or have a castle at the far end of a Caliphate, you might end your rule at the point of someone else’s sword. But the big ones all commit hara-kiri in one form or another. The Western Roman Empire, for example, expanded beyond its ability to manage effectively. Internal squabbles and corruption weakened its ability to defend itself and it came crashing down in 476CE.

The Eastern Roman Empire pivoted to Christianity, rebranded itself as the Byzantine Empire and hung on for another 977 years before it too collapsed. It’s a pattern that has more or less defined the fate of all the world’s great empires. And businesses for that matter. They get too big, can’t respond to changes quickly enough, internal arguments turn into factional conflicts, while external forces, sensing weakness, move in and pick things apart. If any of this sounds familiar, it should.

Maps and Lines

So it went for the Ottoman Empire. Between 1299 and the 1700s the Sultans and Sultanas had things pretty much their way. When, around the middle of the 18^th century, the empire enjoyed a lengthy period of peace it underinvested in its defences. The Russians and the Europeans on the other hand had been arming themselves to the teeth and, seeing riches to be taken, started moving in. Greece broke away in 1821, and by 1832 was declared an independent kingdom by Britain, France and Russia under the Treaty of Constantinople. The Balkans came next, and, well, things went from bad to worse.

It’s easy to forget that at the height of World War I, thousands of miles from the trenches, the French and British were fighting for control of the Middle East. Eager to co-opt Arabia’s oil reserves for themselves, they started carving out territories. With typical condescension they drew maps with straight lines around lands that each would occupy and plunder. Eastern Anatolia was a piece of their larger ambitions, but Mustafa Kemel Atatürk had even bigger plans for it.

Mr. K Challenges the World

Kemel Atatürk personifies the definition of a flawed leader. Whatever his personal shortcomings (so important to revisionists these days), his vision for a secular, modern, homogenous, and industrial republic catapulted Turkey into the 20^th century. A brilliant military strategist, he successfully routed first the British, then the Greeks, and finally the French. He wrested political control of the country from the Ottomans and formed a broadly homogenous, secular democracy.

Interestingly, the war between Greece and Turkey from 1919-22 ended in an agreement to exchange populations. The years leading up to the war, and the war itself, saw enormous atrocities and massacres on both sides. An agreement, negotiated by Atatürk in 1923, and since described as legalised ethnic cleansing, moved Greek Christians west and Turkish and Greek Muslims east, saving around 2 million lives.

Today his image is everywhere. Across the country shops and homes have photographs of the father of Turkey. His signature graces the rear windows of taxis, and there is barely a city which doesn’t have at least one statue in his honour. Religion has been pushing back over the last 100 years, demanding greater influence in politics. A postmodern coup d’etat 25 years ago came about when the Turkish army deemed the incumbent coalition government too “Islamist”.

At some level the reverence for Mr. Atatürk feels like a bulwark against religious infiltration into politics. But I haven’t discussed this with anyone here, so it’s only my interpretation. Even so, religion plays well in the shires, just as it does back in America.

What about Gaziantep?

By 1900 the different religious groups that had coexisted for centuries began drifting apart. Muslims accounted for about three quarters of the population, with Christians about a fifth, and Jews and others making up the difference. Christian children generally enjoyed higher levels of education resulting in greater economic rewards. Where the money goes, sectarian and tribal resentment among the majority is sure to follow. Rather than invest in education, the Ottomans turned to extermination, in particular of Christian Armenians.

At the end of WWI, the British and French quickly moved their forces east. The Brits occupied Antep for a year before handing it over to the French under the Sykes–Picot Agreement. Things didn’t go well from the start. As colonialists the French proved intolerant, arrogant, and misinformed. By aligning with the Armenian community, they further inflamed their increasingly precarious situation by seeking to repatriate property expropriated during the Armenian’s forced evacuation five years earlier.

Civil rebellion became civil war and the siege of Antep engaged 20,000 French soldiers over the winter of 1920-21. The National Assembly recognized the city’s resistance and gave it the honourable title of ‘Gazi’ (Veteran). Meanwhile the Nationalists, who had started winning on the western front, finally turned their attention eastwards. With the Nationalists at their door, the French retreated, freeing the city In December 1921.

All of this, minus the bits about the Armenian genocide, are presented in gory detail in the thoroughly modern Panorama Museum, and the war museum in Gaziantep’s splendid castle. The presentation is spectacular, even if the history is somewhat selective.

Sweet

Under the Ottomans, Antep was rich with agriculture and craftspeople. Situated on a major trade route, the city grew famous for its hospitality, and thanks to the blending of visitor’s tastes, its food. Most especially baklava. With a dozen varieties I’d never seen before, baklava represents the best of Turkey’s natural assets in sweet, pillowy packages. Honey from flowers or pine forests blend wonderfully with filo pastry and a sweet filling of walnuts or pistachios. It’s calorific, but so delicious. Tell any Turk you’ve been to Gaziantep and they’ll mention baklava. It’s a much safer subject than religion or politics.

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