A gap in the binary narrative of Turkey
Güncelleme Tarihi:
Oluşturulma Tarihi: Haziran 08, 2009 00:00
A visit to any top preparatory school in or around London is a good exercise in the sociology of elites. Inevitably, somewhere near the entrance, or adjacent to the headmaster’s office, there will be a signboard listing the names of each year’s cricket champions, or – if the school is small enough –the whole cricket team.
Predictably, the surnames throughout the 1920s, 1930s, 1940s and 1950s are all ones like "Osborne," "Prescott," "Burgess" or "Wilberforce." Any diversity in this blanket of Anglo-Saxon unity was limited to a Gaelic "O’Reilly" or "MacDonald." But then we come to the 1960s.
It is usually here, in, say, 1963, that the first "Singh" shows up. By 1970, there is probably a "Mehta" or two. From the 1980s onward, the list of cricketers includes all manner of "Akbars" and "Al-Hashars" and "Ramaiyas." We have no doubt that soon, if it has not happened already, this informal indicator of United Kingdom eliteness will include its share of "Paslovskys," "Panyushkins" and "Polyakovs."
Our point here is not a commentary on the cultural makeup of English cricket teams. Rather, it is simply an effort to make the point that in all societies, "eliteness" is a temporary station. Transitions are not easy. But they are common. A story in our weekend edition reported new research by the Open Society Institute that finds established elites in Turkey are "shocked and angry" at the ascent of the Islamic circles often identified with the ruling Justice and Development Party, or AKP.
The cultured graduates of elite schools like Robert College or Galatasaray are less than comfortable sharing their social status with graduates of Anatolian vocational schools. Well, tell it to the Ivy League patricians of Boston, the sovereigns of the former "princely states" of India or the old guard of South Africa. The ascent of new classes and the rise of new centers of power in Turkey are victories in Turkey’s 80-year-old experiment in republicanism, not failures.
Our second point would be the observation that while this research is helpful, we caution against it trapping us once more in the all-too-familiar narrative of "fair-haired, Europe-focused Istanbul elites vs. conservative Anatolians with piety at the center of their lives." This binary analysis of Turkish society is a clich that is particularly offensive to us, as many of us do not exist within it. The Daily News has its graduates from Robert College and Galatasaray. But the team producing your newspaper each day also includes natives of Balıkesir and Diyarbakır, and graduates of the "super high schools" of Denizli and İzmit and the Anatolian high schools of Bursa and Adana.
On the false tonal scale of "black vs. white Turk," analysis, we are absent. But there are millions like us in Turkey. We expect to be part of the future as well. Perhaps some future research will take us into account.
It is usually here, in, say, 1963, that the first "Singh" shows up. By 1970, there is probably a "Mehta" or two. From the 1980s onward, the list of cricketers includes all manner of "Akbars" and "Al-Hashars" and "Ramaiyas." We have no doubt that soon, if it has not happened already, this informal indicator of United Kingdom eliteness will include its share of "Paslovskys," "Panyushkins" and "Polyakovs."
Our point here is not a commentary on the cultural makeup of English cricket teams. Rather, it is simply an effort to make the point that in all societies, "eliteness" is a temporary station. Transitions are not easy. But they are common. A story in our weekend edition reported new research by the Open Society Institute that finds established elites in Turkey are "shocked and angry" at the ascent of the Islamic circles often identified with the ruling Justice and Development Party, or AKP.
The cultured graduates of elite schools like Robert College or Galatasaray are less than comfortable sharing their social status with graduates of Anatolian vocational schools. Well, tell it to the Ivy League patricians of Boston, the sovereigns of the former "princely states" of India or the old guard of South Africa. The ascent of new classes and the rise of new centers of power in Turkey are victories in Turkey’s 80-year-old experiment in republicanism, not failures.
Our second point would be the observation that while this research is helpful, we caution against it trapping us once more in the all-too-familiar narrative of "fair-haired, Europe-focused Istanbul elites vs. conservative Anatolians with piety at the center of their lives." This binary analysis of Turkish society is a clich that is particularly offensive to us, as many of us do not exist within it. The Daily News has its graduates from Robert College and Galatasaray. But the team producing your newspaper each day also includes natives of Balıkesir and Diyarbakır, and graduates of the "super high schools" of Denizli and İzmit and the Anatolian high schools of Bursa and Adana.
On the false tonal scale of "black vs. white Turk," analysis, we are absent. But there are millions like us in Turkey. We expect to be part of the future as well. Perhaps some future research will take us into account.