Definitions in Turkey

Elle Loftis *

Turkey is located at the crossroads (Image: Google Maps)

While packing for our upcoming move, I came across an old box of papers and books from when I first came to Turkey in the late 1990s.

This is part of what makes moving pleasantly tedious: stumbling across old things that necessitate taking time to look back and reflect. I was a university student then, majoring in Middle Eastern studies. I was mainly interested in Turkey, and read everything I could get my hands on regarding Turkish studies. Before my initial visit, I considered myself an “expert.” My sophomoric attitude was evident in the following research papers I submitted after my visit. It continued after I moved to İstanbul a few years later.

Although I am not Turkish, I have been here long enough to look at these papers and books wryly. I look at my old self, trying so hard to define a place, a people and a culture that have defied definition for centuries. Like most academic research at the time, few positive prognoses were given. I was just another eager voice adding to the general cacophony about how Turkey was spiraling downward. Political chaos, the devastating 1999 Marmara earthquake, the financial crisis of 2001 and the İstanbul bombings of 2003 all were listed by many as indicators that the country was doomed. Not to mention simmering tensions in the East as a result of the US-Iraq war begun in 2003. All of these events happened around the time I started visiting Turkey and moved to İstanbul.

I expected Turks to be traumatized or at least show some kind of effect from the turbulence of one or more of these events. Curious and also for research in the early days, I asked people from all classes about the state of things in Turkey. Looking over my papers 10 years later, I can easily see that my mind was already made up, and I was trying to guide the people I talked to towards my hypothesis. Most people, outside of taxi drivers, were hesitant to talk about some of these controversial issues. Taxi drivers were, and in my opinion still are, the best indicators of the mood on the street. They also generally love to talk, and are a great microcosmic view into various classes in Turkey. Many escaped from the Kurdish conflict in the East. Others held white-collar jobs prior to the economic crisis of 2001. Some are immigrants from Bosnia or Bulgaria, and fled to Turkey during the conflicts there in the 1990s. Grappling with tiresome İstanbul traffic all day, these drivers are usually eager to talk and their stories have made many a mundane journey much more informative than any book I had read.

A change in plans

I initially planned on staying in Turkey for only a year. That is what I told friends and family back in the US. After all, given my dire predictions then, and after reading the analysis of other academics, how could I plan to stay in Turkey indefinitely? My first year living and working in Turkey, the HSBC bank building was bombed by a suicide bomber along with the British Consulate and two synagogues. The bank was down the street from the school I worked at and we felt the blast. Two American teachers at my school resigned and returned to America by the end of the week. My family urged me to come home too, but I refused. Yes, it was scary. But school wasn’t canceled the next day. People still went to work. Our route home took us right in front of the bombed out shell of the building, and we had this dire sentinel as our view for the following month while authorities investigated and until they covered the whole building with a huge cloth. Like many other tragedies and conflicts, Turks refused to let this define them. I refused to let it define my stay in Turkey.

As I read through the articles, news clippings, books, journals and papers that I had accumulated, it is interesting to see what predictions came true and which ones did not. Most of the research I did was pre-Sept. 11, an American tragedy that had major implications in the Middle East and Turkey. The recent Arab Spring and civil strife in Syria have had most recent repercussions. When I go back home or talk to my old colleagues, they find me just as vague about these situations as I found Turks when I first arrived here. I can’t say that it’s because Turks are used to tragedy. Rather, I think that they are used to instability, and just live for the day. Tomorrow will be fine, inşallah, and yesterday is not worth dwelling over. A British friend of mine who lived in the epicenter, Gölcük, during the earthquake, sums it up best. She told of how everyone was camped outside, and how frightening it was. But, all the women could do was talk about what food they could make in the camp. They all pooled together whatever ingredients they had, and spent time exchanging or talking about recipes. Friends and relatives were missing or dead. Their husbands were helping in the rescue efforts. Their buildings were in shambles. But, the most pressing concern was what they could make for dinner. My friend said that nothing made her admire Turkish people more than witnessing this. The attitude was that they would get through it. It didn’t define them.

While there have been major social, political and economic changes after each one of these upheavals or disasters, not one of them can be pinned down as defining Turkey today, or be significant enough to make me want to leave. I am happy to say that most of my research done as a fresh-faced university student was wrong. To truly understand Turkey, its people and its culture, you need to let yourself go. Let go of your expectations, stereotypes, your need to define a place. In spite of living here for 10 years, I still struggle with letting go every day. When new foreigners to Turkey start panicking about things here like the changes earlier this year to the national insurance policy and foreigners, I tell them (and remind myself) to just wait and see. “Burası Türkiye,” and what seems clear today could be cloudy tomorrow. The law did change, and was not as drastic as what it first appeared. Some things change fast; others remain timeless. Regardless, most things are negotiable. What can be defined today defies predictions tomorrow. That is my personal experience of Turkey today. No academic journal, study or research can accurately define Turkey. Turks themselves can’t define themselves or their homeland, either. Maybe I have been Turk-ified, teyze-fied or Mediterranean-ified. Whichever it is, I now have this wait and see or inşallah attitude. Whatever happens will happen, regardless of me stressing about it. I will deal with things when they happen, and try not to dwell about them tomorrow. A harder lesson is to try and not define people and places. I continue to try and refrain from the need to define, and don’t always succeed. However, after ruefully looking at my old research papers, I believe I have improved a great deal from when I first set foot in Turkey a decade ago.

* Elle Loftis is an American expat, writer and mother living in İstanbul. Reach her at e.loftis@todayszaman.com for comments or questions.

Published on Today's Zaman, 12 October 2012, Friday

Posted in: Turkey