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Orhan Esen
Learning from Istanbul
The city of Istanbul: Material production and production of the
discourse *
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As the process
of modernisation progresses, the gap between the practice of the
material production of Istanbul and the practice of discourse production
has continuously widened. Istanbul today is a city without language,
which has no appropriate apparatus to provide insight into its own
urban reality. The established educational elite has failed to learn
from and with the city they live in and its productive processes.
A key aspect in this context has been the understanding and evaluation
of spontaneous processes in town planning and housing development,
which began in 1945 and intensified after 1950. These practices
generally are summarised under the generic term gecekondu
although the phenomena it stands for today - more than half a century
later - are of a greatly varying nature.
For traditional modern planners, Istanbul had been
no playground to let off steam. Consequently, the city kept shifting
away from the disappointed planner's focus of attention. In the
wake of its most recent industrial coming-of-age it disappeared
altogether from panels discussing the trends around present-day
cities. The local urbanist conceived the situation as an "accident"
which, hopefully, was soon to be remedied. This resulted in some
kind of tacit self-banishment from international debates about urban
developments. To discuss Istanbul against the background of comparable
urban patterns in the Third World was considered to be outright
disgracing. The very low level of attention the city on the Bosporus
is attaining in international research and discussion is closely
linked to local experts' misconception of their own reality, to
an inner distance, to the rejection or non-acceptance of a surroundings
they collectively built with their own hands. The only term now
available to describe their own case is çarpik kentlesme,
"obstructed or distorted urbanisation". This kind of viewpoint,
which renders invisible one's own environment, does nothing to make
one feel at ease in it nor does it promote one's understanding of
it. It is now fashionable to speak of the "incomprehensibility"
and "inexplicability" of Istanbul's more recent urbanity.
The unexpected New Istanbul, which emerged within the space of one
generation, caught the locals by surprise. In an attempt to overcome
one's own speechlessness, the term "uniqueness" came in
to explain it all: A catastrophe of such scale has happened only
to us. Istanbul had been unique as a historical venue - a claim
which needed no proof - and so its final decline
was to be unique as well.
In this way, Istanbul inevitably got caught by its
own past, and kept drifting into the sphere of influence of the
orientalists, whose paradigms proved to be attractive for disappointed
modernists. According to them, one should be content with the pathos
of a glorious past until the day the city will have been cut to
size again and made presentable by planners and investors. Western-orientalist
ways of perception increasingly dominated the local educated elite's
"true feeling" for their city. Symptomatically, the "North
Istanbuler" as a historic character is difficult to tell from
a western tourist in many districts. So the restructuring of historic
city centres is a very topical issue, which is given priority by
the post-Islamist / neoliberal city government (AKP) voted into
office in March 2003.
Whoever talks about Istanbul in public usually refers
to the capitalized Istanbul, which is perceived through its geopolitical
as well as cultural and civilizational significance: It is the imperial
Istanbul of the Romans, the Byzantines and the Ottomans - i.e.,
the urban period between the declaration on Nova Roma (330
AD) and the breakdown of the Ottoman multi-ethnic empire at the
end of World War I. Given its alleged position between two counterpoints
of cultural history - using phantasms like "Orient" and
"Occident" - the Bosporus city appears to be the ideal
projection surface for all kinds of stereotyped comments, where
one in three sentences contains the word 'bridge'.
This book has been written to help mitigate the gulf between the
practice of material production of the city of Istanbul and the
practice of the discourse on it, to save it from its exile through
"learning from post-1945 Istanbul".
On the genesis of the north-south
dichotomy in Istanbul's early modern age
The early modern age (1850-1950) has left its mark on Istanbul's
urban pattern, as the upper classes moved away from the historic
peninsula into the north. They moved to the quarters beyond (Greek:
pera) the Golden Horn, which traditionally were the residential
districts for European merchants and for diplomats. During Istanbul's
pre-modern age, the historic peninsula housed "huts and palaces"
coming together under "a wooden roof". The traditional-obligatory
evenings during Ramadan, when the konaks, the villas of the
upper class, were open to everybody for joint fast-breaking, were
to demonstrate particularly to poorer neighbours in the mahalle
that nobody had anything to hide: Living in the same neighbourhood,
everybody shared the same lifestyle and the same living standards.
But now the mundane elite was leaving the "old town" -
Muslims moved out of Sultanahmet and Süleymaniye, the Greeks
out of Phanar - relocating to brick-stone villas or Paris-style
apartment houses along the so-called grandes rues in the
north. The houses in the deserted quarters degenerated into cheap
multi-family rental units, and the deserted wooden house became
a symbol of backwardness.
In the context of an imperial public building programme,
this first wave of modernization blessed Istanbul with the usual
inventory of urban achievements, lending it an image similar to
that of its "western sisters". As opposed to the "textbook
cases", however, the city failed to produce the usual mix of
continued rural exodus, industrialization and urbanization. Istanbul's
metropolitan area expanded into newly built housing projects and
suburbs, without any sustained increase in population. More importantly,
this population was now divided by income and culture. Over the
periods to follow, this duality was to reproduce itself in a slightly
varied fashion, thereby creating its own spaces and patterns of
perception and behaviour. The so-called "North-Istanbulism"
has been a way of looking at the deserted (southern) city from the
north now believed to be safe. As this perspective kept reproducing
itself over the years, it became a major impediment to a reality-based,
"normal" self-reception of Istanbul's urbanity.
This separation of the ways of living and thinking
also paved the way for the post-1950 "reception catastrophes",
which intensified after 1990 when the modernization process was
accompanied by rural immigration into the big city, as had been
the case in western societies a hundred years ago. The real-life
modernization was bad news for the upper and middle classes, who
had become fully westernised meanwhile. Although the city had no
"true" bourgeoisie for reasons inherent in Turkey's history
of becoming a nation-state, a corresponding middle-class attitude
was adopted mainly by the leftist educated elite - the "reserve
bourgeoisie" - and intellectualised, reproduced and passed
on to the plutocracy emerging in the nineties.
From 1945 / 50 on, an entirely new city has been
emerging on Istanbul's soil. It would be no exaggeration to call
it a "new foundation". The educated northern residents
who observed the process never tired of emphasizing its inconsistency
with the historic city - a rift which was almost always rated negative.
The main feature of the great transformation is generally said to
be the informal practice of urban production. This is however not
an era-specific invention, nor can it be attributed to "land-taking
peasants" alone. On the contrary, it continues a line which
started with the precarious building practices of the upper class
of the founding era in "Boomtown Pera". Given the semi-legal
or altogether illegal customs of the time (e.g., appropriation of
public land for private building activities), this district - which
is en vogue again while being affected by gentrification - might
rank as the historic precursor of the "gecekondu settlements".
The "Istanbul model" has been successful
under certain aspects, i.e., in the context of informal self service
urbanization. Starting in the 1945 / 50 period, an urbanization
model involving a host of mainly small actors was taking shape on
the soil of Istanbul. As the many participants' integration in the
urban production was made legitimate at a relatively early point
in time, the city within decades experienced some kind of "urbanization
offering profit sharing" for comparatively many, especially
for early arrivals. This made it much easier to cope with an extremely
rapid urbanization, which probably would have been very traumatic
had it taken a different course. Another benefit was the provision
of housing, safety and protection from inflation. Until 1980 the
process remained relatively free from superordinate governmental
regimentation or from capitalist interventions. In this phase of
the "urbanization of work" (Sengül), concepts such
as "development of new land in solidarity", "establishment
of municipality" or "urban production for utility value"
were at the centre of attention. By way of contrast, typical designations
of the post-1980 neoliberal era were "mafia-like client networks"
or "urban production for exchange value" (ibid.). The
latter phase of "urbanization of capital" (ibid.), which
selectively offered specific immigrant circles an option for advancement
into the urban middle class while it excluded others, produced relative
and absolute losers. This is the origin of today's "dual city"
( Bilgin, Doppelstruktur
).
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