Tag Archives: Izmir

Turks don’t suffer from Sèvrophobia; they suffer from Lausannitis.

9 Oct

One of today’s Reuters’ titles: Turkey urges U.S. to review visa suspension as lira, stocks tumble is a very deeply unintentional funny.  Is he dyslexic?  Am I?  I’ve read it correctly, yes?  The UNITED STATES is suspending visas to TURKS? The TURKISH lira and TURKISH stocks are tumbling? Right?

There’s been a ton of repetitive commentary again recently — including from me — about how Kurdish, let’s say, “pro-activeness,” in Iraq and Syria, what Kurds think is their right since they played such a key role in kicking ISIS ass, is a menace to Turkey because Turks are still traumatized by the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres that called for the remaining Ottoman Empire (Anatolia essentially) to be partitioned between the winners of WWI (and the hangers-on and cheerleaders like us), with the Straits and Constantinople internationalized (meaning British), so that Turks would have been left with a rump central Turkey and, I think, a minimal outlet to the Black Sea along the coastal stretch around Sinope.

All of that was changed by Atatürk’s declaration of a Turkish Republic at Sebasteia and the subsequent disastrous defeat of the invading Greek army.  The Turkish War of Independence (please, Greeks, gimme a break and let me call it that for now) was an impressive accomplishment, and if it ended badly for the Greeks who lived there, as we remember every autumn when we recite the Megilla of Smyrna, that’s our fault and especially the fault of Venizelos who, being Cretan, found pallikaristiko demagoguery and dangerous, careerist magandalık irresistible So impressive was Kemal’s accomplishment, in fact, that all the parties involved in Sèvres then got together at Lausanne in 1923 and decided Turkey should get whatever it wants.  Suddenly, the clouds of three centuries of depressing imperial contraction, and massacre and expulsion of Muslims from the Caucasus, the northern Black Sea, the Balkans and Crete were lifted (ditch the Arabs south and call it a country seemed to be the Turkish consensus for whatever was left) and the Turkish Republic went on its merry way.  Sèvres and Sèvrophobia was gone.

What Turkey suffers from now, and has for most of the twentieth century since the events we’re talking about, is a Lausanne-inspired sense of entitlement that is simply breathtaking in its cluelessness.  It’s the kind that leaves you staring at some Turks, silenced and dumbfounded, and unable to tell whether what they just said to you is elegantly, sweepingly aristocratic or just passively asinine.  Lausanne was first; add Kemal’s personality cult (I’m not sure that history ever threw together two bigger narcissists than him and Venizelos; they should’ve been lovers), then, what was always a silenced Ottomanness came out of the closet, allied as it always has been with the seminal triumphalist narrative of Islam itselfand you get Erdoğan!

erdoganjpg-thumb-large

Now he wants the U.S. to review its Turkey policies?  Who is this man?  Scolding the whole fucking world like we’re a bunch of children.  Let him scold his children — meaning Turks — first, and then maybe we can take it from there.  If I were a German diplomat in Turkey and had been summoned to His Sublime Presence for the nth time in one year to be chastised for something mocking someone in Germany had said about Him, and told “to do” something about it, I would have found it hard to control my laughter.  As an outsider, I find it delightful enough that of all peoples on the planet, Turks and Germans got involved in a multi-episode drama on the nature of irony and parody. But to have him demand shit from all sides…

No, you’re not a “mouse that roared” arkadaşım, ok?  Yes, “all of Luxembourg is like one town in Turkey” (wow…ne büyük bir onur).  Turkey’s a big, scary, powerful country with a big, scary, powerful military, and lots of “soft” cultural and economic power in its region too.  But you’re in a schoolyard with some much bigger cats.  Soon all of them — the United States, Russia, the European Union, Israel and even some who already openly can’t stand your guts — like Iran — are gonna come to the conclusion that you’re more trouble than you’re worth.  Even Germany is no longer so guilt-ridden as to be polite to you.  And I don’t say any of this as a Greek, because I don’t think that when they all get to that exasperated point and temporarily turn to Greece, that Greeks are going to be anything other than the chick you were drunk enough to take home for a one-nighter — Kurds are going to be the rebound girlfriend, though I can’t say right now for how long — but things have been moving rapidly in a direction where the big boys are not going to want to play with you anymore, and they’re going to let you know in a way that won’t be pretty.

Though, as with all bullies, as soon as Erdoğan’s tough-guy bluff-policy on anything is called, he backs down.

Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com

Maps

24 Jan

Balkans-ethnic_(1861)

Ethnic_map_of_Balkans_-_russian_1867(click)

Yes, of course, the maps I posted here, in “The Invasion of America” and have reposted above, unleashed a torrent of nationalist, hysterical emails and comments from Greeks — and only Greeks — that I have to address.

Yes, the maps are clearly inaccurate in certain respects, particularly with the territory indicated as inhabited primarily by Albanians.  That an Albanian majority lived, or that Albanian was spoken in such a solid block, as far south as the Ambrakikos Gulf (down to Preveza) in the first map, and clear down to the Gulf of Corinth on the second map, is ridiculous and is probably the result of dumb speculation on the map-makers’ part and not motivated by some nationalist agenda.  And yet, let’s not forget those periods in history when Greek Epiros was much more Albanian than it is today.  Until the early nineteenth century, the region of Souli, right behind these mountains (below) seen from my mother’s village Pesta in south-central Epiros and just north of the border with the prefecture (I guess?) of Preveza, was inhabited largely by Albanian-speaking Christians, when they were expelled and dispersed by Ali Paşa.  Just north, lowland parts along the coast of what’s now Thesprotia around the coastal city of Igoumenitsa (see map below) were primarily inhabited by Albanian Muslims (known as Çamedes and the region as Çamëria) until they were massacred and expelled by Greek Nationalist resistance forces during WWII.  And, to jump back in time, one of the splinter states that emerged from the complicated history of the Despotate of Epiros, was ruled by Albanian clans with their capital in Arta and did extend as far south as Naupaktos and the Gulf of Corinth.  Oddly enough, the second map, which ridiculously shows all of Aetolo-Acharnania as Albanian, fails to indicate the large Albanian-speaking regions of the Peloponnese. 

pestaaithanase(click)

Map EpirosEpiros

But the second of the two maps at top is also ridiculous in that the Aegean coast of Anatolia was never so solidly Greek so deeply inland.  Greeks were not a majority anywhere in the region (as Metaxas pointed out in his warning to the egomaniacal Venizelos just before he embarked on his insane campaign), and if the region had been so Greek, there wouldn’t have been any Turkish villages for the Greek army to commit its atrocities against soon after landing in Smyrna in 1919.

Of course, no Greek readers complained about that.

I found the fact that Dobruja, the Danube delta region of what’s now northeastern Bulgaria, was so solidly Muslim to be interesting — again, if the map is accurate.

Finally, what both maps do make abundantly clear, and should be abundantly true to anyone with any kind of historical integrity, is that the majority ethnic group in what’s now Greek Macedonia were once Bulgaro-Macedonians.  (I’ve been told to go fuck myself by numerous Greeks whenever I say this. And in those exact words.  And in the middle of perfectly civil conversations.  That’s the degree of infantile, paranoid anger Neo-Greeks feel about the issue.  And it’s totally obvious that that comes from semi-consciously knowing that Macedonia’s Greekness is problematic and much more historically complicated and heterogeneous than they would like it to be.)  Obviously that’s not the case today, due to their expulsion throughout the decade of the 1910s and the Balkan and Second World Wars, a population exchange with post-war Bulgaria, the massive influx of Greeks from Turkey in the ’20s, and that the fact that those Macedonian-speakers who remained and still form a most cohesive ethnic block in the northwest corner provinces of Kostur and Lerin, (see map below) are still too terrorized to speak their identity out loud, or, even more tragically, have been so brainwashed that if you even suggest that they speak some form of Bulgaro-Macedonian, they become enraged.  More Royalist than the King.  More on Macedonia in future posts.  But let’s just say that the one thing the maps show definitively is that, of all the countries to come out of the collapse of Ottoman power in the Balkans — and given the real demographics on the ground — it’s safe to say that Bulgaria came out the most short-changed and screwed.

 Two maps below: one showing the regions of Kostur (Kastoria) and Lerin (Florina) in the northwest corner of Greek Macedonia. And beneath, a map of the same regions where you can see the fake new names given to many towns and villages in the region to replace the old Slavic ones.  This did not just happen in Macedonia, but throughout Greece.  But since Macedonia was the least Greek region of twentieth-century Greece, it was imperative that this Hellenization process and obscene distortion of history be applied there most widely.  The thing is that the names of these villages are so patently fake-sounding and made up — Cold Spring, Two Rivers, Deer Hill, etc. — that they sound like American suburban developments.  Most were just completely fabricated…a village next to my mother’s called by the not particularly lyrical — yet not particularly or dangerously Slavic-sounding — name of Moulies was changed to Perdika Partridge.  No reason.  Or, they were excavated classical names based on ancient Macedonian personages, like Amyntaio, previously Sorović, or Ptolemaida, formerly Kaylar, and inhabited exclusively by Greek-speaking Turks and Yörük-type nomads settled there from Anatolia, who had preserved their nomadic lifestyle and pure Turko-Asiatic physical characteristics until the twentieth century. Then there’s the stunningly pretentious Argos Orestikon,* whose historic name was Hrupišta.  (All these can be found on the bottom map.) Or the renaming took its cue from the slightest possibility that in Classical times a settlement by that name may have existed within a hundred-kilometer radius of the present-day town — i.e. Vodena changed “back,” supposedly, to Edessa.  On top of it all, most of the real Slavic names were so much more beautiful and appropriate: Vodena or Voden (Edessa) is a pleasant little city full of babbling brooks and waterfalls and comes, precisely, from the Slavic word for water, “voda,” while the new name for the beautiful village of Neveska, shown in the second map, is simply a translation from the Slavic — Nymphaio — and means the same thing: “bridal.”  Don’t know why the village would’ve been called that.

Finally, these paranoid, nationalist name changes happened throughout the Balkans and Turkey, so you can’t just criticize the Greek state for it.

map-of-macedonia

florina-map

Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com

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*  Don’t ask me what this ugly little town near Kastoria has to do with Argos in the Peloponesse, or with Orestes, the mythological scion of the cursed Atreid family, who, almost Christ-like, took his family’s curse upon him and eventually was absolved of it.  If any one has any clue, please let me know.

Salonica and Izmir “…the absence of history.”

23 Jun

From my previous post’s comments on Salonica and Izmir…

A great book on the Population Exchange, with both extensive historical background that helps a reader from outside the region understand the events; a deep theoretical analysis on nationalism and ethnicity as concepts; the wars involved; the mechanics of the Exchange itself and its consequences, both large-scale and personal; how it would be considered the most objectionable kind of Ethnic Cleansing today and would raise howls of protest from the international community, but was then considered a perfectly rational way by our two Great Leaders to solve a problem and “nation-build” — move almost three million people against their will –setting a horrible twentieth-century precedent (which we’ll later see in Eastern Europe, Palestine, most tragically of all, India, in Yugoslavia…); and all somewhat miraculously condensed into a book of less then three hundred pages, is Bruce Clark’s Twice a Stranger: the Mass Expulsions that Forged Modern Greece and Turkey.

And if there’s a first book I recommend to anyone who wants to understand our complicated, often beautiful, mostly dysfunctional romance, and how it continues even after the Great Divorce, it’s this one:

Clark strikes the absolute perfect balance between historical and journalistic research and poignant personal accounts of both the Turkish and Greek refugees.  But these personal accounts are made even more moving by Clark’s own deep, emotional sense of loss and time and violence and his investment in his subject matter (his first chapter on Ayvalik, with it’s haunting, closing quote from one of his subjects: “It’s too early to remember,” is a masterpiece).  When you find out that Clark is Northern Irish, so knows of what he speaks when it comes to inter-communal viciousness, another layer of profundity is added to the experience of reading this book.  Many thanks to him for his generosity in allowing me to reproduce sections of his work.

I thought of one passage in particular, like I said, when mentioning both Salonica and Izmir’s sterility in the previous post:

“In this region of ancient settlement and civilization, there is often an unhappy mismatch between where people live now, and the places to which they feel the deepest attachment; and that mismatch is reflected in the physical environment.  Monuments and places of worship seem to be in the wrong place, or to be used for the wrong purpose.  In contrast with European cities like Bologna or Salamanca, where the past and present seem to blend quite seamlessly, the Aegean landscape is full of odd, unhappy disjunction; places where people have lived, prayed and done business for centuries feel as soulless and ill-designed as a strip development on an American turnpike.  That is partly the result, of course, of ill-managed and corrupt forms of economic development; but the legacy of an artificial exercise in social and ethnic remodeling has played a part.” [my emphases]

Some older photos that might help:

Salonika

Solun: from a Bulgarian website.  That Kievan mosaic in the previous post should actually be titled Dmitiri Solunskiy, as he’s known throughout the Slavic world, where he’s widely venerated, but especially by Bulgarians and Macedonians.

Smyrna before the twenties

Stuff like this below, though, doesn’t really help, but I find clownish and borderline offensive: Izmir’s “Aegean Greek Wine Tavern” (though the food looks great and probably is)*; I mean, if it were in Istanbul, where there’s still a living memory of Greeks, it wouldn’t be so weird, but in Izmir, where there haven’t been any Greeks in almost a century, and from where they left under horrific conditions that can’t be compared to Istanbul Greeks’ slow exodus…plus, where due to the Exchange and the flood of refugees from Greece, there are probably hardly any native Izmirli Turks to remember them either (try finding a true native Salonikan who’s not of refugee origin) makes it a little creepy.

 

*The classic seafood-meze-raki meyhane was almost exclusively a Greek insitution in Turkey, and clearly the association lives on.  For obvious reasons, the tavern has always been default “gavur” territory, since the beginnings even of Islamic poetic culture.  The fish tavern continued to be mostly Greek terrain (and Armenian) in Istanbul itself until well into the sixties; in what little modern Turkish fiction I know set in C-town the only Greeks are waiters in seaside restaurants.  There are still a couple of Greek-owned ones left.  Which doesn’t mean that the genre doesn’t live on without us.  It flourishes in fact, and a good Turkish seafood-meze-raki meal in Istanbul is one of life’s sublime experiences.  I pity those who die without having experienced it.

Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com

Egypt: The Other Homeland

6 Apr

Another people’s exodus from Egypt… 

I always feel like smirking a bit when I come across the title of Mark Mazower’s 2005 book: Salonica: City of GhostsIt’s not just that “our parts” with their ‘ancient, tribal hatreds’ always seem to be ‘haunted’ in the Western imagination; it’s just that, truly, which of our cities isn’t a city of ghosts?  Salonica, Sarajevo, Istanbul, Izmir?  Beirut, Alexandria, Lahore, Delhi?  Which?

Well, Al Jazeera has produced a beautiful little documentary by Giorgos Augeropoulos about the story of Alexandrian Greeks.  Augeropoulos is apparently the director of a highly praised Greek documentary series and has been pretty vocal in Greece’s recent political and fiscal crisis/rezili, but I had never heard of him before.

Al Jazerera, by the way, has now become my primary source of news.  It’s the only place one can get any serious international news, run from the idiocy of American politics, escape from MSNBC’s twenty-four hour liberal catechism class, and catch genuinely original and — I don’t know how else to put it — sincere documentaries like this.  Watch it when you have the chance.

Below are the complete texts of the two Cavafy poems used at the beginning and end of the documentary, “Candles” and “The City” in both Greek and English.  Single-accent Greek (the appropriately named “monotonic”) literally causes me visual pain — like, I can’t look at it, actually have more trouble reading it — and when used for Cavafy the pain reaches excruciating levels, but I couldn’t find the poems in polytonic versions anywhere on line; those who know what I mean, please forgive me.  And this from “The Official Website of the Cavafy Archive,” malaka: http://www.kavafis.gr/index.asp   …criminal, ntrope.  And I’m beyond certain Cavafy himself, so much of whose work was dedicated to memory, the past, and the continuity of Greek civilization, would have agreed

The English translations are by Edmund Keeley and Phillip Sherrard, still the best around, despite the attempts of many others.  Under the Greek version of “Candles” is the Greek actress Eirene Pappa’s performance of the poem set to music by Mimes Plessas.  Below the Greek version of the “The City” is a gorgeous reading of the poem by the truly great actress Elle Lambete, whose stunning Greek face I think readers should have a photo of as a visual reference:

Patricia Storace,  in her Dinner with Persephone: http://www.amazon.com/Dinner-Persephone-Travels-Patricia-Storace/dp/0679744789/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1333821533&sr=1-1, the first book I recommend to anyone who wants to get Greece and Greeks (along with Patrick Leigh Fermor’s classic Roumeli: http://www.amazon.com/Roumeli-Travels-Northern-Greece-Classics/dp/159017187X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1333821635&sr=1-1), writes:

“Greek is not a voluptuous language, or a lilting one, but stony and earthy, a language full of mud, volcanic rock, and glittering precious stones…”

Listen to Lambete and you’ll know what she means.

Κεριά

Του μέλλοντος η μέρες στέκοντ’ εμπροστά μας
σα μια σειρά κεράκια αναμένα —
χρυσά, ζεστά, και ζωηρά κεράκια.

Η περασμένες μέρες πίσω μένουν,
μια θλιβερή γραμμή κεριών σβυσμένων·
τα πιο κοντά βγάζουν καπνόν ακόμη,
κρύα κεριά, λυωμένα, και κυρτά.

Δεν θέλω να τα βλέπω· με λυπεί η μορφή των,
και με λυπεί το πρώτο φως των να θυμούμαι.
Εμπρός κυττάζω τ’ αναμένα μου κεριά.

Δεν θέλω να γυρίσω να μη διω και φρίξω
τι γρήγορα που η σκοτεινή γραμμή μακραίνει,
τι γρήγορα που τα σβυστά κεριά πληθαίνουν.

Pappa and Plessas: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0DiYKzHHdY&feature=related

Candles

Days to come stand in front of us
like a row of lighted candles—
golden, warm, and vivid candles.
 
Days gone by fall behind us,
a gloomy line of snuffed-out candles;
the nearest are smoking still,
cold, melted, and bent.
 
I don’t want to look at them: their shape saddens me,
and it saddens me to remember their original light.
I look ahead at my lighted candles.
 
I don’t want to turn for fear of seeing, terrified,
how quickly that dark line gets longer,
how quickly the snuffed-out candles proliferate.

Η Πόλις

Είπες· «Θα πάγω σ’ άλλη γη, θα πάγω σ’ άλλη θάλασσα.
Μια πόλις άλλη θα βρεθεί καλλίτερη από αυτή.
Κάθε προσπάθεια μου μια καταδίκη είναι γραφτή·
κ’ είν’ η καρδιά μου — σαν νεκρός — θαμένη.
Ο νους μου ως πότε μες στον μαρασμόν αυτόν θα μένει.
Όπου το μάτι μου γυρίσω, όπου κι αν δω
ερείπια μαύρα της ζωής μου βλέπω εδώ,
που τόσα χρόνια πέρασα και ρήμαξα και χάλασα.»

Καινούριους τόπους δεν θα βρεις, δεν θάβρεις άλλες θάλασσες.
Η πόλις θα σε ακολουθεί. Στους δρόμους θα γυρνάς
τους ίδιους. Και στες γειτονιές τες ίδιες θα γερνάς·
και μες στα ίδια σπίτια αυτά θ’ ασπρίζεις.
Πάντα στην πόλι αυτή θα φθάνεις. Για τα αλλού — μη ελπίζεις—
δεν έχει πλοίο για σε, δεν έχει οδό.
Έτσι που τη ζωή σου ρήμαξες εδώ
στην κώχη τούτη την μικρή, σ’ όλην την γη την χάλασες.

Lambete: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y32nzLanljY

The City

You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried as though it were something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I happen to look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally.”
 
You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you. You will walk
the same streets, grow old in the same neighborhoods,
will turn gray in these same houses.
You will always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere else in the world.

 

Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com

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