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Orhan Esen
Learning from İstanbul
The city of İstanbul: Material production and production of the discourse

The wheel turns full circle. Old middle class and post-gecekondu
The wild transition to the post-gecekondu, particularly the modalities of the second wave of land-taking, took place in exclusion of the old middle classes and the educated circles. Having exhausted its potential of urban return-on-investment by the mid-eighties, the old middle classes had to look on as the new arrivals displayed much more skill in adopting the value-added opportunities of the big city, while their own yapsat fabric, their only capital, went to waste after just three decades. The luckier ones might make it to a newly built site or kooperatif settlement in the periphery. But the sprawls of the seventies had melted away. The old middle class now can only stand and watch the unscrupulous expansion of living space by the nouveau riches who in the corrupt nineties piled up an almost unlimited fortune. As these parvenus, unlike their predecessors incapable of distancing themselves in a confined space through an expertly cultivated class attitude, use jeeps and settlement walls to claim their own, they have to resort to aggressive consumption of land in the periphery.

As compared to today the living conditions before 1980, in the times of the so-called "anarchy" - the excuse for the 1980 military intervention - and of massive urban growth, were certainly tantamount to an "idyllic equilibrium and harmony". This situation continued until the coup d'état and the introduction of aggressive money-making as "highest human ideal and virtue" under Özal. Twenty years later parts of the old middle class, especially the wage-dependent "white collars", the educated classes, are faced with the fact that they have lost out to the new social climbers, and find it difficult to cope with this situation. The concept of learning from the post-1950 city is now being replaced by new mindsets, such as suppression and denial of urban images and facts, production of often pseudo-historical urban phantasms and legends. The impotence people feel in the face of the new upper classes manifests itself in a mixture of contempt and fear of contact. But there is a different attitude towards the new middle classes in the post-gecekondu:
Based on the production of a new language, they are modelled into a picture of the other. The term gecekondu with its positive social connotations is being withdrawn from circulation: In the nineties the media invent and disseminate the new generic term varoş, which in the context of the discourse on "distorted urbanization" designates a non-place or "un-İstanbul", the incarnation of blocked urbanization. With its allegedly impenetrable chaos, the varoş is a stigmatised no go area. Varoş is where the Civitas ends and our safety is threatened: People who build illegally will not shy away from committing any other subversive act either. Varoş is the place of people "who have never been by the water", according to a popular myth (<+> Krieg in Gazi, Sultanbeyli).

The concept of varoş reflects the anxieties of the old, "cultivated" middle class. It is the definite linguistic inscription of the rift between the two parties (which is basically the result of economic competition for urban land), i.e., the old middle class and the new gecekondu middle class, which have continuously drifted apart since 1980. The varoş is now a perfect culprit for anything the middle class is worried about: deficient quality in buildings and the associated earthquake risks, colonization of water reserves, pollution, infrastructural shortcomings, rural machismo and discrimination of women, the mafia. Never before have the intra-urban boundary lines been so clear-cut: On the one hand, the apartman milieu, outwardly politically correct and cosmopolitan, always voting left-national, often impoverished; on the other, the post-gecekondu milieu, seeking to safeguard its economic status, where people increasingly like to see themselves as İstanbuler and always vote right-wing (with Islamic, liberal, and conservative undertones) or Kurdish-leftist (e.g., Gazi) parties. These two antagonists aggressively strive for a dominance of their respective cultural code of conduct in public space. The rift between the two urban milieus is evident in symbolic debates, revolving for instance around the headscarf or barbecuing in public spaces.

On the other hand, the term varoş through its uncritical adoption by the old middle class, the main target group of the press, has become a populist weapon of exclusion. It diverts the educated citizens' attention from the true war arena. The aggressive activities and projects of the new big players - especially in the ecologically sensitive north, the water protection zones and the rural environs - is in sharp competition to those of the "mafia-style" post-gecekondu milieu.

In the wake of an ideological re-orientation affecting all milieus and strata, the "distorted urbanization" discourse in the nineties has met surprisingly broad acceptance, and even underwent the strange transformation into becoming a part of the official rhetoric. For the time being, this language - which has its ideological roots in the western-elitist thinking of the early modern "North İstanbuler", containing class-specific traits and being consistent with the dual reality of the time - has come to an end as the classes it belonged to deceased. In the classical gecekondu era the above attitude had weakened and was confined to rather isolated, right-wing intellectual circles (<.> Köksal). But its intellectual renaissance sprang from the milieu of left-wing orientated architects, no less, following the example of "socialist town planning" (<.> Gümüş). It became actual mainstream in the nineties when the post-gecekondu was in full bloom, whilst the left-wing national policy associated itself with the cooperative movement and was able to present a "clean" alternative of regulated urbanization which was acceptable to the middle classes. Thus, the concept of "distorted urbanisation" was accepted as a target value in the bureaucratic discourse although this kind of language, among other things, highlights the deficits of official functionaries. And finally, it was passed on by professionals of the building sector interested in jobs with the big building companies to the industry, which found it convenient to use. The final destination was its adoption by the media, which introduced the new non-place, the varoş and its inhabitants, the maganda (<.> Öncü). After all, all this might sell as a leftist invention!

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Notes

* Many thanks to Stephan Lanz, Cihan Arın and Natascha Haghighian for their comments on the manuscript and Kim Hörbe for her editorial work.

  1. Ömer Laçiner's contribution to this volume paints a picture of the political events taking place at the very time Şengül describes as the "urbanization of labour" and Işık / Pınarcıoğlu as a "soft, step-by-step urbanization which promoted social peace".
  2. In past times the yapsatçi was called müteahhit: "he who takes responsibility or makes a commitment". The müteahhit was a property developer who committed himself towards the client to complete a building within a set period, against a fixed sum, and to scheduled quality standards. The yapsatçi on the other hand, who originates from the müteahhit, is "a small building contractor who assumes a risk", as his tradition-bound name implies. (Yap>: "make", "build"; sat: "sale"; -çi: suffix for profession. A Yapsatçi is a "maker / seller".) Both terms are often used synonymously.
  3. Kat>: "storey"; karşi: "against, in exchange"; inşaat: "building, building activity, building site".
  4. See also in this volume: Erder for the districts south of the Goldenen Horn and Esen, Pot … for the northern districts.
  5. An important exception are the street urchins, also a new phenomenon of the nineties, who are at the very bottom of the society. Their number is subject to cyclical changes and difficult to estimate (five to ten thousand), since many live in the grey area between home and street, between running away and moving from one place to another, until they are absorbed by networks eventually.
  6. Murat Güvenç, 1990-2000 Dönemi İstanbul Istihdam Haritaları. In: İstanbul, No. 49, April 2004


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