Galata

April 14, 2008

Exceptionally few people know about Geert Mak’s latest essay on the Galata Bridge, and more generally on Istanbul. Or few Turks should I add. The complexity of Istanbul’s history invites to read “The Bridge”, a wise reminder orchestred by one of the best contemporary journalist, Dutchman Geert Mak. Following the steps of chroniclers, writers and novelists such as Nazim Hikmet, Oktay Akbal, Rifat Ilgaz, Yasar Kemal, and Resat Ekrem who themselves had written about the Bridge at some point, Geert Mak gives a historical dimension of the Eurasian city’s oldest linking point over the Golden Horn.

Known through centuries as Nova Roma, Constantinople or Istanbul, the metropolis cultivates distinct points of views geographically, aesthetically and metaphorically. In this context, Geert Mak reminds us that, to some, the Osman Turks’ takeover in the mid-15th century meant “the day the world ended” while others called the fall of Byzantium, the Conquest of Istanbul. Back then, and still today, each neighbourhood had its own specific character – Islamic, Armenian, Jewish, Greek, Western- that lead foreign visitors passing through the gates to feel as though they were walking from one culture to the next. Reading Geert Mak’s book, Istanbul seems to be the most multicultural city of all time: a bizarre hotpotch of Europe and Asia, of West and East. Back then the capital of the world was, at the end of the day, concerned only with itself. Something regarded as lethal in today’s globalized and interconnected society.

In addition, Geert Mak highlights how trade on the Galata Bridge has always been a fairly accurate barometer of the city’s financial shape, and how even the slightest waver in the city’s economy was felt immediately on the Bridge. To Mak, almost everyone on the bridge finds themselves suspended between two worlds and all have dreamed at least once of making that great leap forward… to Europe that is.

Whereas a bridge carries a symbol of unity, the Galata Bridge has also been the place of several mutiny’s and revolutions. “On the bridge you don’t make friends, from the bridge you watch and see”, wrote Said Faik in his poem named after The Bridge. Galata and the whole area around were referred to as Pera – Greek for “outside”. An isthmus between Europe and the Muslim world. “From there you view Istanbul through a pair of opera glasses,” said a French ambassador in the late 19th century. Undeniably, “Islambol” was “where Islam blossoms bountifully”.

Geert Mak’s local testimonies give a sense of reality to the city’s historical dimension, and in “The Bridge”, he appropriately reports how Istanbul used to and today still is in a permanent state of flux, a perfect example of new nomadism.

Istanbul is a city of comings and goings, a straightforward-thinking city in the twenty-first century that urges for permanent change, which became a value in itself. The transformation of the Ottoman Empire into a modern, secular nation state is still today open to debate, but the ambition and adaptability of both the city and the nation were and are astounding. Ultimately, Mak urges not to let this communal effort cause a “collective amnesia”, which may happen as Elif Shakak puts it, when social change obstructs all historical awareness.