The Young Ottomans: Turkish Critics of the Eastern Question in the Late Nineteenth Century 9780755692897, 9781848853331

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To my parents Sabriye Çiçek and Mehmet Çiçek With love and esteem

Acknowledgements ______________________

This book is a revised version of my Ph.D. dissertation, completed under the supervision of Benjamin C. Fortna at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. I would like to thank Dr Fortna for his extremely professional and helpful supervision, which never failed to give me a sense of direction whenever I felt lost in my journey to make sense of centuries-old documents, incidents, personalities and ideas. I also thank Eugene Rogan of Oxford and Fred Anscombe of Birkbeck College for their invaluable scholarly support and advice. Without their encouragement my dissertation would never have become a book. There are several institutions, which, in different ways, contributed enormously to the writing process of my dissertation. The Turkish Higher Education Council and Universities UK provided material support that enabled me to undertake my Ph.D. in London between the years 2001 and 2005. SOAS, with its lively academic atmosphere and specialized library, proved an ideal place to think and write about the history of the Ottoman Empire. The British Library and Cambridge University Library offered a very welcoming environment where I held long and very productive reading sessions without being distracted by the outside world. The Master and Fellows of Balliol College, Oxford, kindly allowed me to examine their collection of David Urquhart’s private papers. The Public Record Office in Kew Gardens introduced me to a parallel universe where I felt like a time-traveller losing myself in thousands of well-preserved archival documents from the nineteenth century. Atatürk Kütüphanesi in İstanbul as well as Milli Kütüphane, ix

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS TBMM Kütüphanesi and Türk Tarih Kurumu Kütüphanesi in Ankara enabled me to gain access to the Young Ottoman newspaper collections. Başbakanlık Osmanlı Arşivi was very helpful in locating many crucial documents that dramatically enriched my understanding of the Ottoman statesmen’s state of mind in the nineteenth century. I am thankful to the staff of all these institutions and libraries. I have been fortunate to have friends like Christopher Guyver and Michael William Austin who not only patiently read and commented on my manuscript but also brightened up my days in London. I also owe a big thank you to Valerie Amar, Eyüp Sabri Çarmıklı, Pınar Ecevitoğlu, Eric Anton Heuser, Jessie Lawson, Annabel Mwangi and Ece Öztan for being there when they were. Finally I would like to thank my parents Sabriye Çiçek and Mehmet Çiçek and my sister Canan Çiçek Ülker who always supported my academic pursuits and were very proud of my, however humble, achievements and whose love made this book possible.

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1 Introduction _______________

EUROPE’S ‘EASTERN QUESTION’ OR THE TURKS’ ‘WESTERN QUESTION’

A brief glance at the political writing of the Western world in the nineteenth century shows Europeans enthusiastically discussing the Eastern Question. Between 1876 and 1885 nearly five hundred articles exploring the different aspects of this subject appeared in the ten most widely circulated monthly journals in Great Britain alone.1 Even the travellers wandering across the sultan’s dominions throughout the century could not resist the temptation to devote at least a chapter in their diaries to the dynamics of the Eastern Question, and they speculated about the destiny of the ‘senescent Turkish Empire’ at some length. The scope of the Western world’s Eastern Question loomed large, encompassing the issues from the balance of power in Europe and the menace the ‘Russian bear’ posed to the interests of other Great Powers in the Eastern Mediterranean to the conditions, or rather oppression of nonMuslims, especially the Christians under the Ottoman yoke, the nationalistic aspirations of a large group of ethno-religious minorities inhabiting the Ottoman territory and their seemingly endless insurrections to strip off the ‘centuries long suppression’, from Europe’s right in interfering either by the means of armed forces or mediation or friendly counsel in the domestic matters of the Ottomans to the European money invested in the Turkish bonds and the virtually virgin Ottoman market waiting for European conquerors. But the most important question of all, one 1

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS that summarized the Eastern Question, was as an anonymous pamphlet asked in 1850, ‘what to do with the Turk?’2 He was the ‘sick man’ of Europe since his heydays came to an end in the late eighteenth century, and his possible untimely death spelled a nightmare for the crowned heads of Europe. What was to be done, then, with the Turk? Could he be reformed, civilized, or even, if possible, Christianized? Could he be supported, fostered and protected? Or would it be better to leave him alone and let him meet his fate? Great Britain and France decided that to let the Ottoman Empire fall prey to the ambitions of Russia, which had vowed to build a ‘universal Russian kingdom’, was too costly an alternative and one they could ill afford, so they opted to meddle with the destiny of the sick man. Thus, as the century progressed, maintaining the independence and territorial integrity of the Ottoman Empire for the sake of the balance of power3 in Europe became the traditional policy of these two (rival) powers, which they manifested in their alliance with the Ottomans during the Crimean War against Russia. While they managed to avoid engaging their armies in potentially endless wars between Russia and the Ottoman Empire, France and Britain, obtaining the occasional support or neutrality of Austria, Prussia and Italy, did their best to reverse the potentially devastating results of war at the negotiating table. Another aspect of the project of saving the Turk was to press continuously on Ottoman governments the urgent need for reform,4 which supposedly aimed to mould the whole administrative and governmental system of the country along Western lines and to inject European values into the veins of this Eastern society, but it mostly took the form of demanding some ‘consents’, namely concessions, for the non-Muslims of the empire. The allies of the Ottoman Empire thereby undertook a mission of reforming the Turk, who was otherwise incapable of his own preservation, and set out to teach him how to be modern and civilized.5 Their embassies vigilantly oversaw the implementation of a series of reform edicts the sultan promulgated to ensure that they not remain dead letters and actively interfered in the affairs of the 2

INTRODUCTION Porte whenever they believed the ‘fanatical Muslim conservatism reared its ugly head’6 and hindered the modernization project. On the other hand, to render the sultan’s dominions as much conducive to European commercial and financial interests as possible, these allies of the Ottoman Empire introduced into it such institutions as free trade, foreign loans and a modern banking system, which had until then been largely unknown in the East. The above description of the so-called Eastern Question demonstrates in a nutshell how the West understood and discussed the position of the Ottoman Empire in a Eurocentric world system, as well as its relations with Europe, during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Among the Great Powers that sided with the Ottomans against Russia, however, it was the British who seemed the most enthusiastic about the preservation of the Ottoman Empire, and they continually kept the Eastern Question fresh in their political agenda, paying the utmost attention to each new development in the Near East, be it minor or major, that may have an impact on the dynamics of the question. As one writer put it, ‘in the quadrille of the balance of power, England had the special role, she led the dance.’7 This was partly because none of the other powers had an Indian dominion and a prime minister like Palmerston who convinced many generations of British political elites that unless the sultan’s authority were maintained, not only the invasion of India but also the complete destruction of British commerce in the Near East by Russia was imminent. This conviction, however, did not necessarily lead the British public to sympathize with the ‘barbarous, fanatical and slothful’ Turk, who had been oppressing their Christian brethren for centuries and had very little in common with ‘civilized’ Europe. On the contrary, supporting the Turk to preserve long-term British interests in the region meant, for many in Britain, collaboration with the avowed enemy of Christianity and civilization. This posed a moral challenge to the Victorians, putting them in a dilemma that lingered on throughout the century about whether Christian and humanitarian values should be sacrificed for the sake of the 3

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS economic and military interests of the British Empire. In some cases, especially when the grievances of the sultan’s Christian subjects were involved, the controversy over Britain’s traditional Near Eastern policy became increasingly acrimonious, leaving even the Queen in confusion about the dynamics and guiding principles of Anglo–Turkish relations and compelling her prime minister, Disraeli, who himself ‘would rather see both Turks and Russians at the bottom of the Black Sea’,8 to explain that Great Britain did not mean to protect either Turks or Christians but ‘to uphold her Majesty’s empire’.9 While the British policy makers, Tory or Whig, then, were following, though sometimes half-heartedly, the principles of Palmerstonian foreign policy regarding the Ottoman Empire, the British public were eagerly discussing their Eastern Question using every platform possible to question or praise the government’s conduct in the Near East, albeit always with reservations. There were, of course, various factions within the great mass of British politicians, academics, journalists and men of letters in the broadest sense, each of whom purported to be an expert on Eastern matters, who offered different scenarios on the possible ending of the Eastern Question and cast the Turk in different roles ranging from villain to victim. Yet, despite their differences, from the columns in The Times to the Manchester Working Men’s Association, from the weekly dinners of the London Statistics Society to the town hall of Brighton, the British were asking, talking, writing about the Eastern Question everywhere and mostly not caring much what the Turks thought about their own Western Question. The Turk (ironically not calling himself Turk) was, of course, also thinking about what to do with Europe or, so to speak, with the Ottoman Empire’s Western Question. But, unlike the British, his thoughts did not find a place in the columns of newspapers until a Turkish media began to germinate in the second half of the century. Before long, however, it became evident that the Porte dominated by Âli and Fuad Paşas was quite unwilling to listen to its literate Muslim Turkish subjects’ opinions on the affairs and 4

INTRODUCTION predicaments of the Ottoman Empire. Amid a series of pressing matters troubling the empire in the mid-1860s, such as the continuous separatist activities of the non-Muslim minorities, the chimera of the Russian threat, ever increasing external borrowing and a deepening financial crisis, endless intervention of the Great Powers and a not very promising looking reform project, the matters that were engendered by and/or contributed to reproduce the Eastern Question, the Porte, which had been asserting the will to monopolize the political power since the beginning of the Tanzimat (1839–76), became increasingly intolerant of any criticism or opposition that arose in the society, especially in its Muslim Turkish quarters. The Porte frowned upon even light-hearted conversations in coffee houses or newspaper articles that hinted at a slight criticism of the government’s conduct, and countered it with harsh treatment by the imperial police. Newspapers were closed, their owners were punished, and their editors and columnists were sent into exile. Those who survived Âli Paşa’s infamous Kararname-i Âli (1866) establishing arbitrary censorship over the press were either semi-official or extremely cautious and sycophantic. As a result, the Ottoman media under Âli and Fuad Paşas’ strict press regime became monopolized mostly by the newspapers run by foreigners and non-Muslims and were published in languages other than Ottoman Turkish. This, to a certain extent, explains why our current knowledge of the literate Ottoman Turkish public’s opinion of political issues during that particular period is notably scarce and accounts for the existence of the lacunae in the politico-cultural historiography of the Ottoman Empire of that period. Despite the firm grip of the Tanzimat regime on the Ottoman-Turkish press, there did exist in Istanbul, however, some journalist intellectuals who were determined to discuss the Eastern Question from a Muslim Turkish point of view, although they were compelled to do it as exiles in Europe. They were, as they called themselves, the Young Ottomans, who would later come to be known as the first organized opposition movement in the modern sense in the history of the Ottoman Empire. 5

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS In this book I narrate some salient features of the Eastern Question or the Ottoman Empire’s Western Question, which a series of Tanzimat governments strove in vain to resolve in the second half of the nineteenth century, through the lenses of these MuslimTurkish journalists, namely, the Young Ottomans. The prevailing historical treatment of the Eastern Question in Western academia has rarely attempted to bring a detailed account of the perceptions and reactions of the Ottomans into the picture. Even after Edward Said’s provocative work prompted a change of paradigm in Western scholars’ approach to the history of the East, the Eastern Question mainly remained a Western issue, which was analysed according to its Western actors’ thinking and policy-making patterns. This attitude has been exquisitely revealed in the historiography of the Eastern Question dealing with the first three quarters of the nineteenth century, including the particular period of 1866–70 during which the Young Ottoman opposition can be observed in its most prolific and influential form. Leaving aside the Saidian thesis about what might have caused the European ‘un-interestedness’ in comprehending the Ottoman perceptions of the Eastern Question, I argue that the aforementioned scarcity of the source material10 that may provide first-hand information about the intellectual patterns of the literate Muslim-Turkish Ottoman strata, not to mention the discouraging challenges that Ottoman texts in Arabic script might pose to those who do not master Eastern languages, must have contributed to the prevailing reluctance of Western scholars to explore the Ottoman side of the Eastern Question during this period.11 Nevertheless, these excuses seem insufficient to explain the general lack of interest in the subject among contemporary Western historians when it comes to the Young Ottomans, who wrote prolifically about many aspects of the Eastern Question from an Ottoman vantage point for a considerably long period. In the Young Ottomans’ case, I suggest that another factor played a remarkable role in precluding the ideas and work of these Muslim-Turkish opponents from being fully explored by various scholars. This factor, as I venture to call it, is 6

INTRODUCTION the ‘authority syndrome’, which I use here to designate the situation in which an acclaimed and seemingly exhaustive book on a certain topic by an established scholar, who is regarded as an authority, irreversibly changes the status of that topic and causes a false sense of completeness, despite the writer’s claims otherwise. In the Young Ottomans’ case, I believe, Şerif Mardin’s indisputably monumental work, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, which has received well-deserved accolades since it was first published in 1962, caused the subject of the Young Ottomans to suffer from the authority syndrome. Western scholars mostly tended to approach the book as a primary source covering almost everything about the Young Ottomans and their thought, thereby tacitly presuming that anything that Mardin did not include in his work did not deserve attention or mattered little at best. In fact, Mardin focused in his book to a noticeable degree on politico-philosophical aspects of Young Ottoman thought, or in his own words, he set out ‘to analyse the political system of each of the Young Ottomans’, mostly leaving the details of their polemics on day-to-day politics, including those about the Eastern Question, outside the scope of his study. Understandably, a study that limits itself to the task of delineating the main formula of a political philosophy cannot be criticized for not giving detailed accounts of how the founders or followers of that thought reacted to certain political issues. And, needless to say, it is not my intention here to raise such a criticism but rather to point out that, extremely illustrative and instructive though it is, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought leaves certain aspects of the Young Ottoman opposition unexplored; I aim to analyse them in this book. Mardin emphasized that each section of his book ‘merely pinpoints an approach that may be adopted in studying the Young Ottoman movement’ and ‘the fondest hope that its writing can elicit is that the basic facets of Young Ottoman thought and action that are enumerated may be found to warrant more intensive research by future students of the movement’.12 In this sense, in this book, which Mardin’s work has largely inspired and guided, I 7

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS hope only to make a contribution to the research of the Young Ottoman movement that Mardin left to future scholars. Within this framework, this book represents an attempt to emphasize that the existing picture of the Eastern Question cannot be considered complete without the opinions and perceptions of Eastern actors; neither can the existing picture of the Young Ottoman opposition movement be regarded as comprehensive unless their approach to the Eastern Question receives an in-depth analysis. By exploring the Young Ottomans’ convictions about and reactions to some of the challenges the Eastern Question posed to the Ottoman state and society, in this book I try to take a step towards that end. How the Young Ottomans have been understood and examined in Turkish historiography is a different story, although, in the last analysis, it too reinforces my assertion that the link between the Eastern Question and the Young Ottomans intrinsically remains inadequately established and represented. In Turkey, scholars seem more interested in either unveiling the intricate relationships among the members of the Young Ottoman group or detecting and proving the existence and development of a range of abstract concepts from Islamism and Turkism to constitutionalism, liberalism, secularism or democracy in Young Ottoman thought in nascent forms rather than approaching this opposition group as a product of the Eastern Question, the reflections of which can be clearly traced in Young Ottoman writing during the group’s active propaganda period between the years 1866 and 1871. Why do Turkish scholars seem to prioritize discovering the Islamist, secularist or modernist aspects of Young Ottoman thought at the expense of an in-depth analysis of the conditions that the Eastern Question engendered and that contributed to the emergence of this opposition movement? The answer to this question, I suggest, lies partly in the Turkish Republic’s problematic relations with its Ottoman past. The founding elite of the republic, in a quest to find the native ideological antecedents of the new secular/Western-oriented regime, overemphasized the patriotic, 8

INTRODUCTION parliamentarian, constitutionalist and liberal qualities of the Young Ottoman movement and instrumentalized it to some extent in order to underline the despotic, corrupt and scholastic qualities of the Ottoman Empire, against which both the Young Ottomans and the republicans alike fought. Mustafa Kemal reiterated on various occasions that he owed his patriotic awakening to Namık Kemal’s writing. During the eventful years of the Turkish resistance in Anatolia he extensively used Namık Kemal’s poetry in his inflammatory speeches at the Grand Turkish National Assembly. In an interview with Italian diplomatist Sforza he was reported to have said that ‘his biological father was Ali Rıza but the father of his patriotic ambitions was Namık Kemal and the father of the ideas that guided him in his nation-building was Ziya Gökalp.’13 Accordingly, the champions of the new regime praised Namık Kemal as the oldest ideological antecedent of the Turkish Republic.14 This idealized/stylized presentation of the Young Ottomans by the republican regime, which overlooked their Islamist and pro-sultanate features, prompted an unspoken academic tension between the supporters of the regime and its critics who set out either to verify or to refute the claims of the official history thesis about the Young Ottomans. Another reason that may explain why the Young Ottomans were almost invariably discussed on the basis of those abstract concepts is that the new regime was not the only actor perusing Ottoman history to discover its antecedents. The followers of a series of political ideologies from Turkism to Islamism were equally at pains at the beginning of the twentieth century to invent a legacy that would stretch their history as far back as possible. The Young Ottomans did indeed produce material that could be interpreted as the nucleus of Turkism or Islamism along with parliamentarianism and liberalism because ‘they were at one and the same time the first men to make the ideas of the Enlightenment part of the intellectual equipment of the Turkish reading public and the first thinkers to try to work out a synthesis between these ideals and Islam’.15 Hence, they easily came to be cast as the fathers of those different 9

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS systems of thought, which in most cases were in rivalry with one another. This ideological warfare,16 so to speak, contributed to limiting the context in which the Young Ottoman movement was discussed and to narrowing the horizons of the scholars on some other possible forms and referential frameworks in which the Young Ottomans could be better understood. Therefore, by placing the Young Ottoman opposition in the context of the Eastern Question, in this book I hope to lead the discussion away from the rather overexamined ideological affiliations of the Young Ottomans towards their inadequately analysed assessments of and convictions about some controversial political issues, including the Cretan insurrection of 1866–69, the crisis of centuries-long Muslim and non-Muslim coexistence in Ottoman territory in the nineteenth century, the ongoing transformation of Ottoman state–subject and subject– subject relationships, the increasing foreign intervention in the domestic matters of the empire, the abuse of capitulations, and the Porte’s disastrous external borrowing policy, each of which issues played a crucial role in the final collapse of the Ottoman Empire. Despite its emphasis on the Eastern Question, this book by no means involves any attempt to replicate the vast literature on this question that Western and Turkish academics have produced. Rather, I try to use that literature as a referential framework for portraying the atmosphere in which a small group of MuslimTurkish Ottoman opponents dwelt upon their country’s conditions and its destiny. Aside from contributing to our knowledge of the Eastern Question through an analysis of some of its Eastern observers’ ideas, in this book I also hope to throw some new light on the Young Ottoman opposition movement by revealing the interplay between the Young Ottomans and a British Orientalist group, the Urquhartites, which has up to this point been barely touched upon. Turkish scholars devoted considerable time to finding out how many members the Young Ottoman movement had (especially when it was first established as a secret organization), who those 10

INTRODUCTION members were and what kind of fissures and cleavages arose among the members. Yet, the relations they developed with some European figures and the impact of those relations on Young Ottoman thought attracted little attention. Without any claims of unveiling another mystery in the history of the Young Ottomans, in this book I shall try to demonstrate how the Young Ottomans, as Turkish exiles in London, were exposed to the Urquhartite propaganda, which was to become in the end a major factor in the dissolution of the Young Ottoman front after Ali Suavi joined the ranks of the Urquhartites. I attempt to narrate, in other words, some features of this British Turcophile group as a sub-story within that of the Young Ottomans insofar as it had an impact on and connection with the latter’s thoughts about the Eastern Question. The perceptions and convictions of these British Orientalists, who undertook the mission of ‘protecting the rights of the Turk in the international arena’ and fighting against the ‘injustice caused the Turks by the Eastern Question’, were in fact strikingly similar if not identical to those of the Young Ottomans. Given David Urquhart’s well-known ambition to win new converts to his cause, as well as his relentless efforts to muster cooperation from different quarters, it was not surprising that the Young Ottomans came at some point in contact with the Urquhartites. This encounter, however, did not culminate in a complete collaboration between these two opposition movements, for the agreement in diagnosis of the malady did not necessarily stretch to its remedy as well. Nevertheless, Urquhart did convert Ali Suavi, while the other two pioneers of the Young Ottoman movement, Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, grew distant both from their former comrade and from his new mentor. Thus, the Urquhartite impact not only deepened the already existent differences and activated potential cleavages among the Young Ottomans, but it also served as a mirror that reflected the idiosyncrasies and distinctiveness of the thoughts and ideals of each Young Ottoman under consideration in this book. Because the Urquhartites were the outsiders and Western critics of the Ottoman government and the Eastern Question, whose incentives, goals and 11

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS criticism were, in the last resort, very similar to those of the Young Ottomans, a comparative analysis between their approach and that of the Young Ottomans towards the problematics of the Eastern Question helps us see how being insiders and Eastern played a role in the priorities and perceptions of the Young Ottomans, which, despite the intrinsic kinship with their cause, distinguished them from those British dissidents. All in all, in this book I aim to discuss some features of the Eastern Question in a framework provided by the political beliefs and perceptions of the Young Ottomans as representatives of the earliest modern Turkish intelligentsia. The criterion by which those features of the Eastern Question discussed here have been chosen is the frequency of the appearance of a particular subject in Young Ottoman writing, such as the Cretan crisis of 1866–69, foreign intervention and the Ottoman public debt crisis, which constituted almost two-thirds of Young Ottoman criticism during the period under investigation. Subjects that have not been thoroughly explored and analysed so far in the Eastern Question literature, however, such as the right of foreigners to own landed property in the Ottoman territory, the induction of non-Muslims into the Ottoman military, the Anglo-Turkish Trade Treaty of 1838, or the technical debate over article IX of the Paris Treaty of 1856, have been given priority with a view to contributing to the existing knowledge of the Eastern Question. HISTORICAL AND SOCIAL SETTING

Opening with the Serbian insurrection in 1804, which was then followed by the war with Russia in 1812, the Greek revolt in 1820 and the destruction of the imperial fleet by the combined forces of Europe in Navarino in 1827, the nineteenth century did not seem to promise auspicious times for the Ottomans. With his navy in ashes and his new army still under construction after the abolishment of the Janissaries, Sultan Mahmud II desperately struggled to restore the power of the empire by introducing a series of military and bureaucratic reforms, which, limited though they 12

INTRODUCTION were, would earn him in the eye of the Muslim public the title of ‘infidel sultan’. A second war with Russia in 1829, during which the latter came as close as ever in history to taking Istanbul, resulted in considerable loss of territory and prestige for the Ottomans. The real blow to the sultan’s sovereignty, however, was struck by an internal rival in the early 1830s. Mahmud II had asked Egyptian viceroy Mehmed Ali Paşa, who had long been undertaking a Westernization project in Egypt, to help him suppress the Greek revolt with his powerful modern army, and had pledged the provinces of Syria as well as the island of Crete in return. Using the sultan’s reluctance to keep his promise regarding the Syrian provinces as a pretext, Mehmed Ali revolted against his suzerain in 1832, and his military forces under the command of his son İbrahim Paşa headed for the capital after defeating the Ottoman army without much effort. It became clear then that Mahmud II’s throne, along with the future of the Ottoman dynasty, was under imminent threat and that unless external aid was mustered it was only a matter of time before a change of dynasty in the Ottoman capital occurred. In the face of an Egyptian attack, Mahmud II turned to the British for help, but it was the Russians who seized the opportunity to enter Istanbul without waging a war and to establish the Russian influence in the region. Hence, ‘irony of ironies, the Russian nemesis landed its troops between Mehmed Ali’s army and Istanbul and became Ottoman saviours.’17 It was only after the Treaty of Hünkar İskelesi between Russia and the sultan was signed in 1833 that Great Britain could acknowledge the magnitude of the crisis as well as its possible long-term results. During the second Mehmed Ali crisis (1839–41), which broke out after Sultan Mahmud decided to take revenge on his vassal and was defeated by him once more, Britain reacted immediately by assuring the Ottoman Empire of its support. France, on the other hand, openly sided with Mehmed Ali, a strategy that caused its exclusion from the London Convention of 1840. It joined Britain only after 13

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS realizing that Russia, having been assured through the London Convention that the Turkish straits would remain closed to foreign warships, tended towards cooperation not only with the Ottoman Empire but also with Britain, and a new European entente against Mehmed Ali under Britain’s leadership, and leaving out France, began to take shape. Thereupon followed the Straits Convention of 1841 when the Anglo–French alliance was restored and the preservation of the Ottoman Empire became the common cause of those two powers. As the 1829 Treaty of Adrianople and the Mehmed Ali crisis proved, the Ottoman Empire no longer seemed powerful enough to retain the status quo in the region by controlling centrifugal forces or blocking Russian encroachments. Its disintegration would have doubtlessly caused incalculable turmoil in Europe by jeopardizing British and French economic and political interests in the Near East. As the century progressed, the image of the Russians driving deep into Ottoman territory in the Balkans and heading for the Mediterranean after capturing Istanbul became the biggest nightmare of the British and the French whose colonial empires seemed to be the next stop in Russia’s great plan of conquering the world. The tsar’s proposal to kill the sick man before he died without ‘letting the Great Powers make necessary arrangements among themselves’18 received a very lukewarm response from Great Britain and France, now united against their common rival and enemy. Their counter plan was to revive the sick man, or at least to lengthen his life as long as possible. After all, British Prime Minister Lord Palmerston believed that a community was ‘not like a man or a tree or a building whose parts are not renovated but remain the same, and are worn out and decay by age and use’. All that was requisite to ‘keep an empire vigorous for an indefinite period of time’ was that ‘its institutions and laws should adapt themselves to the changes which take place in the habits of the people and in the relative position of the community as compared with other countries.’19 Therefore, maintaining the territorial integrity and independence of the Ottoman Empire became the traditional policy of Britain 14

INTRODUCTION and France. Concurrently, a popular hostility towards Russia and a new sentiment of Turcophilism began to germinate in Britain, which would reach its peak during the Crimean War campaign. The entrance of Britain and France to the Crimean War as allies of the Ottoman Empire against Russia represented a manifestation of the policy of maintaining the Ottoman Empire, tottering but intact, in the region. The British and French alliance secured the Ottomans a place in the concert of nations through the Paris Treaty of 1856 after the Crimean War, admitting the Ottoman Empire into the European family of states as an equal member. This professed equality, however, by no means gained the Ottomans either the status of a European state or equal treatment in international relations. On the contrary, it accentuated the superiority of the Great Powers, which proved powerful enough to declare an uncivilized and Oriental empire, until then considered the greatest enemy of European civilization, a member of the European family overnight, simply because its existence proved temporarily convenient for maintaining the balance of power in Europe. The allies of the Ottoman Empire, however, had no intentions of keeping it in its Oriental, backward and rotten state if it would serve their economic, military and political interests in the region and buffer the Russian aggrandizements towards their colonies. Expressed in Palmerstonian discourse, ‘its institutions and laws have to adapt to the changes’.20 Thus, in 1839 came the first Ottoman attempt to revise the empire’s institutions and laws in the light of the changes that took place in the relative position of the community compared with other, that is European, countries. When Mustafa Reşid Paşa read the Gülhane Hatt-ı Hümayunu that pledged the security of life, property and honour of every Ottoman subject, be he Muslim or non-Muslim, a new era opened in the history of the Ottoman Empire as well as a new stage in the Ottoman reform attempts, which dated as far back as the late seventeenth century. The twentieth-century Western historiography of the Ottoman reform era has almost invariably cast Europe as the catalyst 15

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS initiating and pursuing the Ottoman modernization movement.21 This patronizing Western treatment of the Tanzimat epoch almost completely eliminated the role of native agents in the Ottoman modernization process by reducing them either to mere enthusiastic reformist collaborators of European powers in the Ottoman Empire or to less enthusiastic but equally pusillanimous political characters who agreed to carry out the reform plans devised in London or Paris and imposed upon them. Not surprisingly, many contemporary Turkish scholars have not treated Ottoman reforms as merely an offshoot of British foreign policy but rather tended to narrate the Tanzimat era by emphasizing the initiative and determination of modernist Ottoman statesmen in trying to save their decaying empire through European remedies. Despite the differing claims of who deserves to be esteemed the true catalyst of the Ottoman reforms, until quite recently there seemed to be, however, a consensus among both Western and Turkish academics that the Ottoman renaissance emerged under the impact of the West and originated mainly in European secular thinking and institutions that European and/or Ottoman architects of the Tanzimat attempted to transplant in Ottoman soil. This approach found expression exclusively in the representation of the Gülhane Rescript, which Western and Turkish scholars alike regarded as a reform charter encompassing many of the ideals contained in the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen of 1789. A series of recent analyses on the Gülhane Rescript22 or Land Law of 1858, however, convincingly demonstrate that some Tanzimat reforms had their roots not in Western but in Muslim thought and political concepts. This, expectedly enough, has raised questions about whether ‘the progressive adoption of some European-style institutions during the nineteenth century’ was ‘a less alien importation than the adherents of the traditional–modern dichotomy had originally assumed.’23 Yet, these hypotheses about the native Ottoman characteristics of some Tanzimat reforms do not seem to apply to certain reforms or political measures of the later Tanzimat period 16

INTRODUCTION at which the Young Ottoman criticism was directed. Their European character is in fact so readily discernible that it leaves no room to postulate that they had their roots in Sunni-orthodox Islam or were a product of the inner evolution of the traditional Ottoman administrative system. This nevertheless must not necessarily mean that these reforms, rather than reflecting the Ottoman statesmen’s idea of reform, were in fact mere concessions imposed and extracted by external agents. This brings us to the question of external pressure. Keeping in mind William Schorger’s assertion that ‘past a critical threshold, the impetus for modernization of the society derives from modernized indigenous elements as much as from external sources’,24 we can nevertheless argue that Europe, whether it deserves to be hailed as the real motor of the Ottoman reform movement or not, caused the slowly revolving wheel of change in the Ottoman Empire to speed up by pushing the Tanzimat reformist cadres in different ways to adopt more radical measures than they would have done if left to themselves. What should be focused on in the discussion of this external pressure for reform, however, is the process itself or the contingent character of it rather than the determining role of the agents involved. The seemingly external push or pressure in the Ottoman case was not, as largely assumed, always directly exerted by an assembly of the European cabinets dictating the introduction of certain Western institutions, principles or measures to reluctant Ottoman statesmen with an ultimatum or at the round table as it was in the case of the Andrássy note or the Istanbul Conference of 1876. In many cases it was the Tanzimat statesmen themselves who, in the face of the pressing matters of the Eastern Question such as the insurrection in Crete, sought to settle the problem by introducing some reforms, no doubt believing that such action would assure the Western powers and public opinion that the sultan, as a well-intentioned sovereign, was doing his best to contain his rebellious subjects’ grievances and complaints. Attributing a monological character to the process of external pressure in question seems extremely misleading in understanding 17

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the nature of relationships between the Ottoman Empire and the Western world engendered by the Eastern Question. The relationships between the Ottoman reformist cadres and the governments of the Great Powers in the second half of the nineteenth century, I believe, were of a dialogical nature in the Bakhtinian sense in which the term dialogic describes a relation of exchange between two positions – between the self and other, between subject and society, between two textual voices, between two subjects and so on.25 In Bakhtin’s literary theory, the dialogic work is in a continual dialogue with other works of literature and other authors. Bakhtin asserts that: The word in living conversation is directly, blatantly, oriented toward a future answer-word: it provokes an answer, anticipates it and structures itself in the answer’s direction. Forming itself in an atmosphere of the already spoken, the word is at the same time determined by that which has not yet been said but which is needed and in fact anticipated by the answering word. In other words any discourse is always oriented towards the preceding and subsequent discourses and towards an ‘other’ and that other’s anticipated answering word. Borrowing from Bakhtin’s conceptual framework I suggest that the relationship between the Porte and the Great Powers was not a monological one as the term ‘external pressure’ suggests. The reformist Ottoman statesmen and European governments were in a continual (imagined or actual) dialogue with each other in almost all their undertakings prompted by the dictates of the Eastern Question. In this dialogical relationship neither the European governments nor the Porte did not, depending on the context, merely oppose or obey a particular measure imposed or suggested by the ‘other’ side; their response was continually informed and fashioned by the previous as well as anticipated reaction of the other and operated in a domain of discourse that was continually constructed by interaction. Owing to this dialogical and relational character of the Porte’s conduct with the 18

INTRODUCTION Great Powers, the seemingly external pressure took new and hybrid forms that raise questions about the externality of the process. In some cases, for instance, the Porte used the introduction of a European political measure or establishment of a Western institution as a forestalling precaution to ensure the quiescence and future support of the Great Powers, to distract their attention from a potential cause for friendly counselling or to gain their backing in contracting a loan in the international money market. Moreover, despite the clearly disadvantageous bargaining position of the Ottoman Empire against the Great Powers, none of the reforms championed by European cabinets was brought into being without some tough bargaining on the part of the Ottoman government. The Porte, then, acquired a less passive role in its dealings with European demands, and in its implementing of reforms than the adherents of the ‘external imposition and external pressure’ theory had originally assumed. Although in the end it was almost invariably their will that preceded that of the Porte, owing to the dialogical nature of their relationship the Great Powers constructed their demands through their knowledge of the Porte’s previous as well as the anticipated reactions. In the broadest sense the domain in which this dialogical relationship was constructed and played out was the Eastern Question itself hanging over the Ottoman governments like a sword of Damocles that created and nursed the pressure in external, internal, internalized or hybrid forms. Because the Ottoman Empire was an organic part of the question and because Ottoman statesmen were undertaking the task of saving their empire in an increasingly hostile environment, they, in fact, in so many cases, internalized external pressure, factoring it into their course of action before it even became manifest. Moreover, because to a considerable extent insiders, in the form of a mélange of ethno-religious separatist minorities, caused the predicaments of the empire that jeopardized its very existence, the pressure for reforms actually appeared more internal than external in nature, and the Porte tried to provide as many safety valves or concessions in 19

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the name of reform as possible to prevent this internal pressure from changing into an external one, though without much success. As the century progressed, the Porte increasingly tended to act by taking potential external pressure into account and thus became more susceptible to it. The Syrian and Lebanese incidents of 186026 stand as a good example of the Porte’s efforts in forestalling anticipated external pressure and intervention by resorting of its own accord to rather extreme measures, which it believed otherwise would have been imposed upon it by the Great Powers. Fuad Paşa’s orders to execute the governor of Syria, Ahmed Paşa, along with hundreds of Muslims who were believed among the ringleaders of the civil war between Muslims and Christians to deprive the French and British of their justification for intervention, however, failed to produce the expected results. The Porte yielded to the combined intervention of Europe in the end and agreed in an international conference on a revolutionary reform package that included the reorganization of the administrative status of Lebanon and the appointment of a Christian Armenian as its governor.27 The Porte’s severity towards the Muslim community in dealing with the Lebanese crisis upset the Muslim Turks. It reinforced their fears that being Muslim no longer meant to be privileged, that the interests of the non-Muslims, which the Great Powers fostered and protected, would be prioritized in the event of a Muslim–nonMuslim conflict, and that the Ottoman government, incapable of resisting pressure and intervention from without, was quite ready to sacrifice the rights and interests of the Muslims to mollify Europe. This new group of French-speaking, frock-coat-wearing ministers who pusillanimously yielded before infidel powers and favoured their protégés at the expense of the real owners of the empire through a series of new privileges under the name of reform aggravated the antipathy of Muslim masses towards the Tanzimat regime and the state. The Muslim Turkish ‘little tradition’28 perceived the Tanzimat project as an amalgam of all things that were against the grain of 20

INTRODUCTION the ‘little culture’. European mannerisms, as well as the Tanzimat grandees’ conspicuous Western style consumption, which in their eyes symbolized the destruction of ancient redistributive patterns and the traditional economic ethos,29 was directly linked with the new privileges provided to the non-Muslims and with the loss of political prestige before the European governments. The novelist Ahmed Midhat, a representative of the esnaf (craftsmen) class and the Muslim Turkish ‘little tradition’ among the Ottoman intelligentsia, who had at one time ‘joined the Tanzimat bandwagon as an official but had become a well-known critic of the Tanzimat’ was voicing the distaste of the little tradition of the Westernization project when he remarked that ‘the real community is made up of those pure Turks whose hands in peacetime are still on their scimitars. Not the readers of Büchner, not the slaves of Paul Bourget.’30 With each Christian rebellion over which the Porte failed to use the ‘legendary Turkish scimitar’ and cooperated with the Great Powers to resolve the problem to the detriment of the ancient rules of the Şer’iat and the sovereignty rights of the sultan, the disappointment and anger of the Muslim Turkish Ottomans deepened. During the early 1860s almost no year went by without a new Christian insurrection that inevitably involved bloody clashes and considerable losses to the Ottoman Empire. The revolt in Herzegovina and Montenegro in 1860, the unification of the Principalities in 1864, the Cretan insurrection of 1866–69, the departure of the last Turkish soldiers from Belgrade in 1867, all of these did nothing but fortify the Muslim Turks’ despair. Their once magnificent empire, which had terrorized the Western world for centuries, had now become a paper tiger and, unlike the Greeks, Romanians, Bulgarians, Serbs, Armenians and Maronites, the Turks evoked no genuine European sympathy. While the non-Muslim communities were extended support and protection against systemic maladministration and injustice by the foreign embassies and consulates, the Muslims found no avenue of 21

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS recourse. While the non-Muslim communities flourished and prospered thanks to their exemption from military service, incessant wars and rebellions crippled the Muslim community, the main supplier of humans to the Ottoman army.31 There were also the capitulations that provided a large group of non-Muslim merchants, who having obtained foreign passports became protégés of one of the Great Powers, with exemption from a series of taxes and duties that were imposed on the native Ottoman subjects. Hence, while Muslims were exposed to heavy taxation and Muslim merchants were deprived of the protection and advantages of the capitulations, non-Muslim merchants, backed and protected by vigilant European powers, made full use of capitulations to accumulate capital and prosper, a fact that deepened the antipathy of the poverty-stricken Muslim community towards their non-Muslim countrymen. In the capital the Muslim Turks were gradually pushed to the periphery of the city by a new class of Ottoman merchants, composed mostly of Greeks and Armenians, whose ‘ornate stone houses … built on former Muslim-occupied property reflected their desires to be thought of as Europeans and the attempt to create an environment in accord with their aspirations.’32 The native Ottoman economy, which felt the impact of the growth of capitalism in the West as well as the systemic vulnerabilities of the administrative and tax system, showed signs of an imminent crisis. By the mid-1860s, Ottoman finances were in a vicious circle compelling the Porte to borrow from the European market to pay the interest of the previous loans. Civil servants’ salaries were several months in arrears; the soldiers in the provinces were on the verge of deserting and joining the bandits in the mountains; the bakeries in the neighbourhoods of the capital stopped selling bread on credit, and the anger and desperation of poor masses started to boil while the sultan and his ministers carried on their prodigal lifestyle, erecting new palaces and pavilions and ordering new battleships. Amid all these pressing matters, the Porte, which had been asserting the will to monopolize the political power as a requisite to 22

INTRODUCTION build a modern state and develop infrastructural power33 since the beginning of the Tanzimat, became increasingly intolerant of any criticism or opposition that arose in the society, especially in its Muslim Turkish quarter. After the Cretan crisis of 1866 (which proved to be a hallmark event in the destiny of the empire), Âli Paşa seized the opportunity to silence the press with a new regulation (Kararname-i Âli) that suspended the previous press law until further notice and introduced arbitrary censorship over the press. The effect of the safety-valves under the name of reforms introduced to lessen the pressure caused by the demands and separatist motives of non-Muslims during the Tanzimat boomeranged on the Porte and its European allies. They abetted the very disintegration of the empire they feared by fuelling the minorities’ nationalist ambitions, and they heightened the dislike and unrest of Muslims who felt abandoned, betrayed, reduced to second-class citizens and threatened by the increasing economic prosperity and political power of the infidel West and its native non-Muslim protégés. The Muslim-Turks’ confidence and faith in the state, which in the past had enabled the small Ottoman tribe to grow into one of the most powerful empires in the world, was rapidly wearing off as illiterate, oppressed, poor, religious and agitated Muslims now looked to the divine intervention they hoped would in time save the empire. The literate/educated strata in Istanbul, though sprung from various backgrounds and split among themselves, seemed less confident in divine intervention for salvation. Among them was rising a new group who believed that the tendency of superWesternization that Âli and Fuad Paşas represented as well as their readiness to cooperate with the Great Powers would ruin the empire and the Muslim Turks should take the matters into their own hands before it is too late. They were the Young Ottomans, who claimed to be the voice of true Ottoman patriots and were determined not to be intimidated by either the despotic regime of the Porte or the enemies of the empire in their Pyrrhic struggle to save the fatherland. 23

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS THE YOUNG OTTOMANS: THE QUEST FOR A WAY OUT

Although the Young Ottomans claimed to be the voice of Muslim Turkish masses who sought justice – indeed, the voice of all Ottoman subjects who struggled for a say in the decision-making process of their empire – it is highly questionable whether they actually acquired the status of a leadership that could lead a largescale popular opposition movement supported by those poor, illiterate and conservative Muslim Turks as well as by those Ottoman subjects who, irrespective of their religious and ethnic identity, were hungry for political rights. What is certain, however, is that the Young Ottomans did obtain quite widespread support among the literate strata and troubled the Ottoman governments for almost a decade through their criticism and propagandizing activities. What group or groups the Young Ottomans represented and acted for is a complicated question that different scholars have asked and answered differently. One of the oft-repeated answers is that the Young Ottomans represented a faction of the nascent Ottoman Turkish bourgeoisie whose class formation was largely based on social resources acquired through education and connections to the state. ‘In the development of the Ottoman bourgeoisie, the cultural capital of credentials acquired through Western-style education was as significant as the material capital of wealth attained through commerce and production.’34 This approach, distinguishing the Young Ottomans as members of the bourgeoisie,35 should be handled carefully because it opens the door to the debate about whether the concept of bourgeoisie, like so many other notions that have precise connotations in a particular culture, namely the Western, can be safely applicable to nineteenth-centuryOttoman society and acquires sufficient explicating value. As Shayegan argues, it is not uncommon for non-Western scholars to re-evaluate and reconstruct the broad lines of their recent history by introducing concepts and notions that ‘only correspond in the most tenuous way with the singular process that actually took place’.36 Even if the concept of bourgeoisie is borrowed and 24

INTRODUCTION applied with reservations for the sake of comparative analysis or ‘to profit from the exemplary models offered by the museum of history in understanding the destiny of the East’,37 it is a moot point whether the emphasis should remain only on the class identity of the active members and supporters of the Young Ottomans, for I believe that it fails to grasp and explain fully the motives and characteristics of the Young Ottoman movement. A similarly class-related answer to the question above comes from Mardin who, drawing on Redfield’s conceptual framework, defines the Young Ottoman movement as a coalition between the Muslim Turkish ‘great tradition’ and the ‘little tradition’ in the second half of the nineteenth century Ottoman Empire.38 Redfield argues that: In a civilization there is a great tradition of the reflective few, and there is a little tradition of the largely unreflective many. The great tradition is cultivated in schools or temples; the little tradition works itself out and keeps itself going in the lives of the unlettered in their village communities. … Great and little tradition can be thought of as two currents of thought and action, distinguishable yet ever flowing into and out of each other.39 Following Mardin’s lead, it can be argued that the core group of the Young Ottomans, which Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, along with the majority of their supporters represent in this book, were members of the great tradition and belonged to a subgroup of the Ottoman ruling elite. They had been excluded from the spoils of the Tanzimat and, as a group, had been kept in the lower ranks of executive positions. They were specialized communicators with access to European knowledge and eager social mobilizers who realized that their criticism of super-Westernized Tanzimat grandees, as well as the Porte’s appeasement policy before the Western powers, would appeal to the little tradition and hence gather popular sources behind their political struggle against the upper bureaucracy. As members of the great tradition, the core group of the Young 25

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Ottomans was able to see into the mechanisms of the little culture and try to use it for its own purposes, for the ideals of this tradition were not unknown to them.40 The core group of the Young Ottomans occasionally exploited and instrumentalized the values and ideals of the little tradition, or the less privileged middle and lower strata of Ottoman Muslim society, which Ali Suavi represents in this book, for their political struggle against the undertakings of the Tanzimat grandees. In other words, the Young Ottoman movement can be seen as a short lived and brittle alliance between the alienated members of the great tradition and the frustrated members of the little tradition who had climbed on the bandwagon of modernization and, to the extent that their attention was drawn, of the lower classes.41 Because of the differing origins of these groups, the coalition did not last and, before long, the fissures and clashes appeared among the Young Ottoman movement, manifested in Ali Suavi’s estrangement from Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey during their exile in London. What made this alliance possible was that: there already existed the outline of a link between the Great and Little Tradition; the upper class had a nodding acquaintance with lower class values. In the nineteenth century, in addition, the isolation and esotericism of upper class culture became irrelevant. It now became important to mobilize a large public for survival.42 The encounter between the alienated members of the great tradition and the modernizers of lower-class origins with the values of little culture on the political plane created a hybrid opposition movement that identified the Westernization project of the Tanzimat as well as its Western and native introducers and backers as its common enemy. Although this answer gives invaluable insights into our understanding of the no doubt populist attitudes of the core group of the Young Ottomans, as well as of the fragile nature of the 26

INTRODUCTION Young Ottoman coalition, it nevertheless ought not to be taken so far as to accord a sort of class consciousness to the members of the Young Ottomans that did not actually exist. To put it differently, what I suggest is that placing the emphasis on Namık Kemal’s or Ziya Bey’s belonging to the great tradition and their allegedly wellthought-out efforts to capture the attention and support of the little tradition, should not make us regard them as mere upper-class agitators who were fully aware of their class-based interests, who had mastered the ideology that could serve those interests and who sought to fulfil them through their opportunist political campaigns. To whatever socio-economic category we may think each of the Young Ottomans belonged should not prevent us from overlooking another factor that brought young Muslim Turkish Ottoman people from different social origins together and distinguished them as a group. This was the schizophrenic state of mind from which they, as non-Western intellectuals in an increasingly Western dominated world, were caught in a set of circumstances that intensified and at the same time stigmatized their heritage. Therefore, I find it more serviceable and instructive in understanding the Young Ottomans to approach them as a group of intellectuals representing a new consciousness and agency with a desire to make sense of the rapidly changing world around them. Although I draw from Mardin’s use of the concepts of great and little tradition throughout the text to explain why some members of the Young Ottoman movement behaved differently in the face of the same challenges, or what created such an inwardly divided coalition, I nevertheless focus more on the prevailing cultural repertoire as well as on the political context, be it internal or international, that engendered the formation of the Young Ottoman movement and helped the Young Ottomans as a group in their pursuit of distinction to obtain significant symbolic capital.43 Hence, in this book I treat all members of the Young Ottoman movement, regardless of their origin, as active social mobilizers who believed that ‘they were appealing to a general public – even though in fact such public might not have existed.’44 All the 27

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS politically active Young Ottomans were the members of a slowly developing semi-autonomous intelligentsia with a relatively high degree of cultural and symbolic capital45 who could earn parts or most of their living from journalism. All in all, the Young Ottomans were representative of a generation46 that shared a common framework of experiences and concerns that were mostly generated by the big encounter of the Ottoman Empire with its other, namely the Western world. By the time of this encounter the West’s imperial interests were increasingly at variance with Ottoman sovereignty. This shook the empire to its very foundations and compelled it to look into its own self and reinterpret its historical self-conception, discover the qualities that rendered it different and vulnerable vis-à-vis the West, and seek a formula to survive in an increasingly more hostile atmosphere. The Young Ottomans were the intellectuals whose thoughts, reactions and attitudes were structured by the way in which this big encounter with the West was played out. The body of political literature the Young Ottomans produced was closely attached to a political context that the dictates of the Eastern Question by and large fashioned. It addressed, reflected, represented and constituted the Young Ottomans’ and other actors, be they from the bourgeoisie or little or great tradition, experiences of the time. In this sense, the Young Ottoman opposition is read in this book as a narrative that emerged as a result of a dialogic relation between representatives of the Ottoman intelligentsia, as part of the new Tanzimat generation, and Ottoman reformist cadres as well as the contemporary Western powers that challenged Ottoman claims to civilization, power and the right of exist. The intellectual discussions the Young Ottomans offered took a polemical stance not only on the way the Eastern Question unfolded and was received by Ottoman and Western ruling elites and intelligentsias, but also on the very legitimacy of the modernization project the Tanzimat regime and its Western backers initiated, manipulated and implemented. As Whitebrook points out, ‘order for both persons and political regimes depends upon telling a coherent story.’47 Any political order, in this sense, needs to tell a compelling story to convince the 28

INTRODUCTION readers and to establish its identity. To ensure a valid legitimacy, the story must be credible and listeners should understand the connection of events in the story.48 Drawing on Whitebrook’s literary thesis, I suggest that the emergence and rise of the Young Ottoman opposition movement in the 1860s and 1870s, and its challenge to the modernization/Westernization project, which the Tanzimat elite introduced and controlled, reveal that the Ottoman political regime (which was grappling with the predicaments of the Eastern Question), the Ottoman ruling elite (which was trying to meet the challenges of modern Western civilization) and the ideology of Ottomanism could no longer sustain a mutually understandable and credible narrative for some of its Turkish-speaking Muslim subjects. During the same period not only Turkish-speaking Muslims represented by the Young Ottomans but also various non-Muslim components of the empire began to express their discontent with the Tanzimat regime. The rise of critical voices suggests that the discrepancy between stories the regime told and stories the Young Ottomans and other groups told increased in this period. The Young Ottomans were among those readers who were eager to counter the official story with their own. The appearance of the Young Ottoman opposition, thus, is regarded in this book as a site of struggle over the definition of civilization, modernity, reform, citizenship and the Eastern Question; it is apprehended as an act by the Muslim Turkish intelligentsia of telling new stories based on their criticism of the narratives of the Tanzimat. Last but not least, in this book I analyse the discourse the Young Ottomans developed in their narration of new stories in a framework that regards discourse as social practice revealing ideas, tensions, hierarchical relations and power struggles among different agents and collectivities. In other words, the discourse the Young Ottomans devised is not taken as representing the actual state of economic, social and political conditions, or of the international position of the Ottoman Empire or Eastern Question in general, but rather as reflecting their views, experiences and perceptions, in short, their habituses.49 29

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS As relatively privileged members of the Tanzimat generation, the core group of Young Ottomans had access to Western-style education and/or ideas that were European in origin, as well as to the machinery of the state, which had assumed the role of chief modernizer since the beginning of the century. Through their education and other contacts with the Western world they were introduced to a new cultural habitus and were rehabituated, a process that entailed losing or jettisoning old ways of thinking and old beliefs that used to be taken for granted.50 This process of acquiring new ways of communicating, which necessarily involved abandoning or at least modifying an old habitus, endowed them with ‘a new set of values, a sense of objectivity and professionalism that separated them from the rest of the populace’.51 This new sense of professionalism, a trademark of their new cultural habitus, found expression in their patronizing statements about what the Ottoman Empire and Ottoman people needed to become powerful and honourable again, in their aspirations to take the personal initiative in producing solutions to their country’s predicaments and in using their expertise to serve the fatherland and the nation without sanction by the sultan or his despotic ministers. Those ministers, especially Âli and Fuad Paşas, the main targets of Young Ottoman criticism, in fact also belonged to this same rehabituated new politico-bureaucratic elite, which, in the absence of a well-developed civil society and a united bourgeois-democratic movement, had assumed the role of constructing the ideological-political technologies of the state from above, but they were among the fortunate few who happened to be in possession of authority at that juncture, while the faction the Young Ottomans represented was composed of those who suffered from a lack of authority in nineteenth-century Ottoman political life and thus were pushed away from the centre of power. The abuse of power a few ministers and upper bureaucrats were believed to have exercised over other members of the elite by monopolizing the authority and depriving the latter of their share of political influence was without doubt one of the major factors that bound the active members of the Young Ottoman movement 30

INTRODUCTION together. Âli Paşa was reported to have said that ‘the Lord has entrusted the well-being of the state to five or six people. These should govern the fate of the state.’52 The tyranny and political monopolization this bureaucratic oligarchy exhibited caused an unrelenting hatred among newcomers like Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, or even Ali Suavi, who came from ‘the middle and lower echelons of Ottoman state service [which] were … cluttered with men possessing literary talent but unable to [attain] the highest ranks in the normal course of a governmental carrier’.53 The men who joined the ranks of the Young Ottoman opposition were also extremely unhappy about the Ottoman Empire’s position vis-à-vis the Eastern Question. They were indignant about the loss of the empire’s old prestige and furious about the image of Turks in Western public opinion as inherently fanatical, uncivilized and oppressive people. They were ashamed of the Porte’s dependency on Great Britain and France to maintain the empire and of its failure to defend the rights of Muslims in the international arena against the anti-Turkish/anti-Islamic crusade, which accelerated in the second half of the century, and they were embarrassed about the Porte’s ineptitude in suppressing the Christian revolts that were following one another in various parts of the empire. They were convinced that Tanzimat statesmen, especially the statesmen of the school of Âli Paşa, had proved unsuccessful in their Ottomanism policy, which they believed had taken the form of introducing some windowdressing reforms that only deepened fragmentation and antagonism in Ottoman society. When provided with good administration, just taxation and a voice in the policy-making process, that is the usul-ü meşveret, they believed, non-Muslims would happily be integrated into the greater Ottoman nation, joining hands with their Muslim countrymen to protect and enrich their country. Sometimes, however, they exhibited confused, self-contradictory and inconsistent behaviour and attitudes. In the cases of Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, this could partly be attributed to their allegedly populist efforts to appeal to as many disgruntled members of the Ottoman population as possible. As members of the great 31

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS tradition who were familiar with the cultural habitus of the little tradition and who tried to use some core values of the little culture for their constitutionalist and modernist cause, they inadvertently displayed attitudes or expressed views bordering on self-contradiction. Self-contradiction and confusion at times seemed inevitable in the case of Ali Suavi, whose association with both the Young Ottomans and their British opponents, the Urquhartites, had an impact on his thinking. In general, however, all Young Ottomans, as a generation and newly-formed intelligentsia with a recently acquired cultural habitus, shared a common destiny with their counterparts in the other great civilizations of the world that felt threatened and intimidated by Western civilization in the nineteenth century onwards. They suffered from inner conflicts and, ‘without even being aware of the underlying contradictions, [they] want[ed] to be both modern and archaic, democratic and authoritarian, profane and religious, ahead of the time and behind it.’54 The dilemmas that young, well-educated Japanese experienced and the ambivalent attitudes they displayed in the Meiji Restoration of Japan, for example, were not very different from those of the Young Ottomans. ‘Their formal education and their advancement in the world were almost entirely bound up with the acquisition of [technical] skills and ways of thought adopted from an alien culture’, namely the Western. ‘What young Japanese had to come up with if they were to locate themselves confidently and securely in the world was some viable conception of their history, some meaningful way of relating the past to the present and future.’55 This quest inevitably caused confusion and at times involved selfcontradictory, inconsistent views and attitudes among the Meiji youth educated in Western-oriented schools. They were in many ways the prime beneficiaries of the cultural revolution; but as time passed, they also became its victims. Their identification with the traditions and values of Western culture, and the corresponding negative image of their own heritage, involved them in painful inner conflicts. 32

INTRODUCTION They grew up in a period marked not only by extensive cultural borrowing from the West, but also by rapidly mounting national consciousness; and the coincidence of these conditions created a dilemma to which young intellectuals were particularly sensitive.56 National consciousness created painful tensions in the minds of young Japanese people who ‘had discovered their nationality to be a cause of embarrassment’. The Western culture to which they were attracted became an object of comparison reminding them of ‘the failings of their own cultural heritage and leading them to repudiate the Japanese past’. At the same time, however, national consciousness also awakened a need for pride and self-esteem. ‘Could cultural alienation and passionate commitment to the nation … be reconciled?’57 Seikyosha, for example, which in many respects bears a striking resemblance to the Patriotic Alliance and the Young Ottoman Society, was one of the many political societies formed by the Japanese youth seeking the answer to this question. Despite their liberal backgrounds, some young Japanese such as Shiga Shigetaka (1863–1927), Miyake Setsurei (1860–1945) and Kuga Katsunan (1857–1907) chose to resist the rush to Westernization, arguing that ‘a strong national spirit was essential to self-defence in an age of imperialism, that a weak-willed association with Westerners was dangerous as well as humiliating, and that national independence demanded the preservation of cultural autonomy’.58 The revulsion they felt for Westernism was provoked by their government’s eager attempts to achieve early revision of the unequal treaties by accommodating to the treaty powers’ demands that Japan adopt Western administrative, legal and commercial practices. To accept cultural subservience to the West would, they believed, destroy that cohesive spirit that came from pride in a common heritage and that was a vital resource of the nation-state. While suffering such misgivings, these young intellectuals and their followers could offer no clear-cut alternative to Westernism. 33

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS In trying to reconcile cultural autonomy and cultural borrowing, to combine an openness to change with a reassuring sense of Japanese individuality, to make national progress and national pride compatible, Seikyosha members engendered no small amount of conflict and confusion among themselves over what constituted the essential traditions and preservable elements in the Japanese heritage.59 There were also intellectuals like Taguchi Ukichi (1855–1905) who sought to ease the stigma attached to cultural borrowing and also to justify the rejection of those particularistic claims of their own culture that caused them embarrassment by identifying themselves with what they considered were universal traits and values of mankind, including the parliamentary system and national constitution. Challenged by a similar dilemma, the Young Ottomans too devoted themselves to proving that the parliament along with some other political-cultural institutions and values was not peculiar to the West but a collective property of the human race and in fact had its roots in Islamic polity in the form of usul-ü meşveret. They nevertheless continued to seek a definition for national essence, just as the Seikyosha members in Japan did; to be able to criticize as well as hold a politically workable oppositional ground against the heedless imitating conduct of the Tanzimat grandees, which they saw as inseparable from the Porte’s spineless attitude and pusillanimity before Western imperialism. The fear from cultural borrowing as an agent of self-efficacy and self-defeat as well as the humiliation of aping the West was too great to be ignored at a time when the abuse of the capitulations, the relentless external borrowing, the continual intervention of the Western powers into the domestic matters of the Ottoman Empire, in other words all the symptoms of the disease called the Eastern Question that was killing the sick man made themselves felt gravely. Like the Japanese youth in the Meiji period, the Young Ottomans too were, in a sense, drawn into a schizophrenic state of mind by the prevailing conditions. On the one hand, they felt the 34

INTRODUCTION need to defend their empire and their Muslim brethren in the face of the anti-Turkish/anti-Islamic campaign in the West and unequal treatment of the Eastern Question to the Ottoman Empire. On the other hand, they were compelled to admit that the predicaments of their empire had roots in the structural weakness of its administrative and political system, in some values that fashioned the communal interrelations in the Ottoman territory, in the hegemonic interpretation of Islam and in the conservative, fatalistic frame of mind of the Muslim Turks in general as the ruling, dominant people in the country. They adopted a very defensive attitude when the Ottoman Empire, specifically Muslims and Turks, were accused of being backward, barbaric and disorganized by the Europeans, but when Europe was not involved they themselves severely attacked the Porte for wasting the nation’s material and intellectual sources and keeping the empire in a backward state. If foreign-language newspapers in Istanbul or Europe criticized Turkey even in the mildest fashion, the local press would leap to the opposite position and depict all sultans and ministers as flowing with humanity. Namık Kemal himself could dismiss as insignificant the material backwardness of the empire and take pride in its moral and spiritual superiority.60 The Young Ottomans, when left to themselves, were, in other words, convinced that the image of the Ottoman Empire as the sick and uncivilized man of Europe was not utterly groundless. In some cases they could not conceal their embarrassment about being subjects of a state that failed not only to build up the country with bridges, roads, railways and ports, light the streets with gas lamps and erect modern factories as in Europe, but that also continued to close newspapers, exile political dissidents, torture prisoners with horrendous methods from the Middle Ages and violate human rights in general at the age of high civilization.61 In the Young Ottomans’ case, this embarrassment did not 35

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS develop so far as accepting that the Western world was superior to the Ottoman Empire (and the Islamic world) not only in terms of its technological and scientific advancement and political and juridical systems but also in terms of its culture. Largely through their defensive reflexes, which were a product of the political context engendered by the Eastern Question, the Young Ottomans abstained from extending their embarrassment to an understanding of Western superiority in general. They did not think that the material and spiritual aspects of Western society were indivisible. On the contrary, they insisted on dividing it into moral and material domains. For them, to bow to the hard reality of Western technical and military superiority and admire Western political systems did not necessarily entail a particular process of thinking that recognized that those Western techniques ‘were the product of a certain scientific vision of the world in conjunction with a certain perception of reality’ and that those political and juridical systems whose qualities were so admired ‘were not the result of some recent miracle but the product of a paradigm shift’, that the metaphysical underpinnings that constituted the armature of these techniques and institutions were ‘anchored in a particular culture with particular values and mode of thought that referred to its own genealogy’.62 The Young Ottoman thinking did not go so far as ‘to consider the West as a new paradigm providing a break with the past, possessing its own laws and logic of domination’,63 which in turn brought about the techniques and institutions the Young Ottomans wished their empire and society to emulate. Therefore, the superiority of the Western world, in their minds, could easily be confined to the realm of material advancement without leading to a wholesome repudiation of their own culture, which failed to generate such material advancement. The embarrassment they felt about their own culture was of the kind that could be wiped out if the techniques and institutions that rendered the Western world superior were transplanted to Ottoman society, for the latter was already superior to the West in the spiritual and moral realm. 36

INTRODUCTION Chatterjee’s thesis on how anticolonial nationalism divides social institutions and practices into two domains – material and spiritual – seems also to apply to Young Ottoman thinking. He argues that: The material is the domain of the ‘outside’, of the economy and of state-craft, of science and technology, a domain where the West had proved its superiority and the East had succumbed. In this domain, then, Western superiority had to be acknowledged and its accomplishments carefully studied and replicated. The spiritual, on the other hand, is an ‘inner’ domain bearing the ‘essential’ marks of cultural identity. The greater one’s success in imitating Western skills in the material domain, therefore, the greater the need to preserve the distinctness of one’s spiritual culture.64 The Young Ottomans, angry about the colonizing effects of the Westernization project the Tanzimat regime pursued, took refuge in the spiritual domain of culture, which they considered superior to the West and hence undominated and sovereign.65 The subjectivity of Muslim Ottomanness was located in this moral realm and any encroachment by Westernization into that domain was encountered with loud protest. Ziya Bey’s famous article that scathingly criticizes the government’s indifferent, or at times even encouraging, attitude towards Muslim Ottoman women who abandoned the Islamic dress code in favour of European fashion and attended dances with European men stands as a striking example of this protest. ‘Thanks to this particular understanding of Westernization’, Ziya Bey opines, ‘what the genuine Ottoman culture considers as prostitution has come to be regarded as modern à la franca lifestyle’.66 All in all, the Young Ottomans were young and enthusiastic members of the newly forming Ottoman Turkish intelligentsia who were motivated, in the simplest terms, to save their crumbling empire and to transform it into a modern, wealthy and powerful state, although they were unsure how to do it. They believed that in their quest for a formula for the salvation of the Ottomans they 37

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS spoke on behalf of the large and voiceless masses who for decades had sought some redress to express their despair over oppression, poverty, injustice and humiliation, as well as incessant religious and ethnic conflicts. Despite allusions in the Tasvir-i Efkâr, the Muhbir and later in the Hürriyet and Ali Suavi’s Ulûm to the wide and ever expanding society of Young Ottomans, in fact the number of active members of the Young Ottoman movement was remarkably small.67 Apart from the most famous Young Ottomans, namely Mustafa Fazıl Paşa, Namık Kemal, Ziya Bey and Ali Suavi, there were Halil Şerif Paşa, Mehmed Bey, Nuri Bey, Reşad Bey, Ayetullah Bey, Ahmed Midhat, Refik Bey, Ebuzziya Tevfik and Agâh Efendi who called themselves Jeunne Turc. Almost all these men were either state servants or had worked for the state at some point in their lives, had connections with the influential organs of the Turkish media and had acquired a Western education, along with a set of values and intellectual assets that separated them from the rest of the populace. According to the most widely accepted and frequently cited accounts in the literature, based mainly on a series of articles Ebuzziya Tevfik wrote on the history of the Young Ottomans,68 in 1865, before the Young Ottoman Society was formed, six Young Ottomans – Mehmed, Nuri and Reşad, all employees in the Translation Bureau, Ayetullah, the well-educated son of a modernist Ottoman pasha, Namık Kemal, editor of Tasvir-i Efkâr, and Refik, the owner of the newspaper Mirat – had set up a secret organization under the name of the İttifak-i Hamiyyet (the Patriotic Alliance). This secret society, which aimed to change ‘absolute into constitutional’, was transformed into the Young Ottoman opposition in 1867 when the Egyptian prince, Mustafa Fazıl, entered the scene. Mustafa Fazıl lost access to the khedivate when the Porte, with Khedive İsmail’s agreement, decided to change the rule of ascendancy in Egypt and he published his famous letter addressed to Sultan Abdülaziz asking for a complete rearrangement of the governmental machinery, namely the introduction of a 38

INTRODUCTION parliament. In the Lettre addressée à Sa Majesté le Sultan, irrespective of whether or not he was the original writer of it,69 Mustafa Fazıl referred to the ‘great party of Young Turkey’, of which he considered himself a member and the spokesman. Then followed the events that led to the closure of the Tasvir-i Efkâr and the Muhbir by the Porte whose editors, Namık Kemal and Ali Suavi respectively, along with their regular contributor Ziya Bey, who had been at odds with the Porte for some time, were suspected of cooperation with the prince and of involvement in the Young Ottoman Society; all were forced to leave the capital. In July 1867 these three Young Ottomans fled to Paris where Mustafa Fazıl welcomed them; others joined them and they embarked on their political activities, which of course the prince sponsored. The details of the intricate and many-layered events stretching from the emergence of the Patriotic Alliance as a secret society in 1865 and the flight of the Young Ottomans to Europe in 1867 to the complete dissolution of the Young Ottoman opposition at the beginning of the constitutional era have been skilfully delineated by Mardin, who sifted through Ebuzziya’s semi-picaresque Origins of the Young Ottomans and Kuntay’s Namık Kemal, Devrinin İnsanları ve Olayları Arasında,70 which, as Mardin correctly observes, suffered heavily from ‘antiquarian myopia’. Therefore, I limit myself here only to biographical sketches of the three most famous and influential Young Ottomans, namely Namık Kemal, Ziya Bey and Ali Suavi, upon whose political writing and criticism this book has been built. The politically active Young Ottoman group was composed of men from a great diversity of backgrounds and in many ways with dissimilar ideals. Within a short period of time their differences became too obvious to ignore and caused a series of rifts that in the end overwhelmed the common cause that had brought them together. Those who stayed under the roof of the Young Ottoman Society and continued to propagate its cause in the society’s organs of the Muhbir and the Hürriyet were Namık Kemal, Ziya Bey and Ali Suavi. Soon after the Young Ottoman Society was established in 39

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Paris, its patron, Prince Mustafa Fazıl, extracted permission from the Porte to return to Istanbul and was appointed Âli Paşa’s finance minister. His relations with the Young Ottomans in Europe gradually cooled as he strove to regain the favour of the state and secure himself a more influential position in the government. More than once he attempted to silence the Young Ottomans or to force them to tone down their criticism with the threat of withdrawing his monetary support. In this sense, his contribution to the Young Ottoman movement appeared more financial than intellectual and, apart from his famous letter, he left no literary material behind that could serve the ends of this book. Before long, some of the other Young Ottomans, including Rifat, Mehmed, Reşad, Nuri and Agâh, began gradually to distance themselves from the group and eventually shed their Young Ottoman membership. None of them directly contributed to the Young Ottoman politico-intellectual arsenal that the society’s publications revealed. The three Young Ottomans I examine in this book were not only the ones most enthusiastic and persistent in their cause but they were also the brain team and public face, so to speak, of the Young Ottoman opposition. Ali Suavi was entrusted with the editorship of the Muhbir and, even after his relations with the other Young Ottomans broke down and left him its sole writer, he never ceased to consider himself a Young Ottoman. When his former comrades, who almost unanimously wished to disassociate themselves from him, asked him to delete the notation on the first page of the Muhbir stating that it was the organ of the Young Ottoman Society, he refused and continued to publish the newspaper in the name of the Young Ottomans. When Mustafa Fazıl began to put pressure on the Young Ottomans to suspend their criticism of the Porte, Ali Suavi declared his former patron a deviationist and expelled him from the Young Ottoman Society on behalf of the Young Ottomans. He claimed to be the spokesman of the Young Ottomans and adamantly clung to the concept of Young Ottomanism. Although he too, like Reşad, Nuri, Mehmed or Rifat, 40

INTRODUCTION in time became alienated from some of its original features, Ali Suavi chose not to deny his involvement in the Young Ottoman movement. Even after he became an Urquhartite convert, he always emphasized his Young Ottoman identity and repeatedly told his readers that the Young Ottoman Society was getting wider and stronger with each day, thanks to his propagandizing activities. Ali Suavi, in other words, had no intention of letting his former comrades claim a monopoly on the definition of the concept of Young Ottomanism, and he remained determined until the end to reinterpret it through the ideas of Urquhart, to whom he became closer than he had ever been to the members of the original Young Ottoman group. The second of the Young Ottoman triumvirate, Namık Kemal, was a literary celebrity of his time in the Ottoman Empire, and hence was the best known and most acclaimed member of the Young Ottoman movement. As its editor, Namık Kemal was in full control of the Hürriyet and, until Ziya Bey took over the newspaper in late 1869, most of the articles and commentaries appearing in the columns of the Hürriyet were written and signed by him on behalf of the Young Ottoman Society. The third Young Ottoman who pertinaciously clung to the Young Ottoman cause and strove to keep the organization alive was Ziya Bey. When in August 1869 Mustafa Fazıl repeated his request, once and for all to suspend publication of the Hürriyet, Namık Kemal, after years of resisting, gave up and decided to conform to his patron’s wish. Ziya Bey, however, ‘flew into a towering rage, sent back to Mustafa Fazıl the 250,000 francs left as emergency funds, [and] declared that the printing press of the Hürriyet … would continue to serve the ends of the Young Ottoman Society.’71 Until his return to Istanbul in 1871 Ziya Bey, now in full control of the so-called organ of the Young Ottomans and cooperating with Ali Suavi, who was publishing Ulûm in Paris, was the voice of the Young Ottoman Society, most of the founding members of which had long ceased calling themselves Young Ottomans. 41

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS THE TRIUMVIRATE: NAMIK KEMAL, ZİYA BEY AND ALİ SUAVİ

Namık Kemal Namık Kemal was born on 21 December 1840 in the town of Tekirdağ.72 Most of his time between the ages of ten and sixteen was spent travelling across the empire with his grandfather Abdüllatif Paşa. He briefly attended the rüşdiye but was mostly taught at home. Kemal’s father, Mustafa Asım Bey was the court astronomer, and his paternal grandfather Şemseddin Bey, had been the first chamberlain to Sultan Selim III. Although Kemal was born into a distinguished family that had had close relations with the Ottoman palace for centuries, as he grew up his family began to lose its importance as a result of changes in the bureaucratic elite of the Ottoman Empire after the Tanzimat. When he was 16, Kemal married in Sofia and moved to Istanbul, where he began to work as a clerk in the Translation Bureau, which, as one writer metaphorically suggested, was the ‘Ottoman Empire’s window opening to the West.’73 At the time of Kemal’s arrival in Istanbul, the effects of the Tanzimat’s Westernization project were starting to be felt in the cultural climate of the capital, which doubtlessly played a significant role in Kemal’s intellectual formation. In 1865 the editor of the newspaper Tasvir-i Efkâr, Şinasi, compelled to flee from the empire because of his involvement in a plot against Âli Paşa, entrusted the publication of the paper to Kemal. The Porte closed the Tasvir-i Efkâr in 1867, ostensibly because of an article that Kemal wrote rejecting foreign intervention in the domestic matters of the Ottoman Empire, but in fact because of the paper’s general critical tone towards the policies of Âli and Fuad Paşas as well as Kemal’s suspected connection with Mustafa Fazıl Paşa. Kemal was then appointed assistant governor of Erzurum, but he declined the post and fled to Paris where he, along with Ziya Bey and Ali Suavi, had been invited by Mustafa Fazıl to embark on an agitation campaign against the Porte, the aim of which was essentially to propagate the introduction of usul-ü meşveret to the Ottoman Empire. 42

INTRODUCTION During his voluntary exile in Europe Namık Kemal worked as the editor of the Hürriyet, one of the organs of the Young Ottoman Society, and in the meantime he struggled with financial constraints largely caused by the erratic nature of Mustafa Fazıl’s attitude to the Young Ottomans. In August 1869, when Mustafa Fazıl completely withdrew his monetary support from the society, Namık Kemal resigned from the Hürriyet. He returned to Istanbul in late 1871 just before Âli Paşa died. Upon his return, Kemal resumed his journalistic activities and embarked on the publication of another newspaper, İbret, in collaboration with some other Young Ottomans. Before long the İbret became a major critic of Mahmud Nedim Paşa’s government and was suspended in 1872 for a period of four months. Concurrently, Kemal was appointed prefect of the town of Gelibolu. A few months later he returned to the capital as well as to his position on the İbret. Meanwhile, he regularly contributed to the satirical weekly paper, Diyojen, mocking the government with his short but well-written pieces, which provided excellent examples of the Turkish sense of humour. In 1873 Kemal wrote a play as a part of the project undertaken by two other Young Ottomans, Nuri Bey and Halil Şerif Paşa, to improve the Ottoman theatre by creating ‘a solid Ottoman drama repertoire’.74 His play, Vatan yahut Silistre (The Fatherland or Silistre), laden with patriotic motifs and rousing messages, was a great success, caused a considerable outburst of public feeling and frightened the Porte. Kemal was immediately sent into exile to Cyprus and kept in isolation for almost three years in the fortress of Magosa. He was released and allowed to return to the capital in 1876 after Sultan Abdülaziz was dethroned in a coup spearheaded by the champions of an Ottoman constitution and parliament and replaced by Prince Murad, who had been collaborating with the Young Ottomans for some time and was known as an advocate of the usul-ü meşveret. The new sultan, however, soon proved unfit for the throne and a short while later he was compelled to abdicate in favour of his 43

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS brother Abdülhamid II who, after having reassured Midhat Paşa that he would cooperate with the constitutionalists, ascended to the Ottoman throne. As a member of the Council of State, Kemal actively participated in drafting the constitution and clashed with Midhat Paşa who seemed unalarmed by the sultan’s insistence on inserting into the draft an article that would give him the power to expel any undesirable elements from the empire. At the sultan’s request, the Council of Ministers modified the draft to add Article 113 to the constitution. Soon after the promulgation of the Ottoman constitution, however, Abdülhamid II dismissed Midhat Paşa and sent him into exile under Article 113. Before long, Kemal too was imprisoned and when the long-coveted Ottoman parliament, for which he had yearned for more than a decade, was opened, he was already in exile in Midilli. From his exile, ‘Kemal tried, by corresponding with his acquaintances in the Ottoman Assembly to continue to be politically influential. But these activities too came to an end when the assembly was suspended by Abdülhamid II.’75 Later Kemal was made prefect of the island and his status as an opponent seemed to have come to an end. During his administrative tenure in Midilli Kemal showered despotic Sultan Abdülhamid II with letters expressing his debt of gratitude as well as his loyalty to his Majesty,76 which probably played a role in Kemal’s transfer to better administrative posts in Rodos (Rhodes) and Sakız (Chios). He died in Sakız at the age of 48, leaving behind him a considerable political and literary legacy.

Ziya Bey Ziya Bey (or Abdülhamid Ziyaüddin) was born in 1829 in Istanbul.77 His father Feridüddin Efendi was a clerk at Galata customs. After he completed the local Koranic school, Ziya attended the Mekteb-i Ulum-u Edebiyye, one of the academies Reşid Paşa established to train bureaucrats from families that could not afford to pay for their sons’ education. After his graduation Ziya entered the Translation Bureau, where he met ‘one of the last Turkish 44

INTRODUCTION classicists, poet Fatin Efendi, under whose guidance he acquired a vast store of classical Ottoman-Islamic culture.’78 Meantime, as a protégé of Reşid Paşa, Ziya developed sympathy for the Western ideas and institutions that were gradually percolating into the Ottoman Empire. In 1855 Ziya was appointed secretary to the imperial palace, where Ferik Edhem Paşa, the commanding general of the palace troops, encouraged him to learn French, which would open a new world to him. He proved an apt pupil in French and soon started translating Viardot’s History of the Moors of Spain (Endülüs Tarihi), followed by the translation of Lavallée’s History of the Inquisition (Engizisyon Tarihi). When Âli and Fuad Paşas rose to power after Reşid Paşa’s death, Ziya attempted an intrigue against Âli, whom he believed had betrayed his former mentor Reşid. This not only caused a personal feud between Ziya and Âli and Fuad Paşas but also cost him his post in the palace. Thereafter, the Porte considered him a dangerous figure and systematically sent him away from the capital to distant posts across the empire. Âli Paşa took care to ensure that Ziya remained in a position that made it impossible for him to build a political career that might rival his own. Ziya was appointed prefect to Cyprus in 1862, where he and his family suffered from malaria; his son died soon thereafter. He was transferred to the province of Amasya in 1863 and Âli Paşa sent an investigation committee to check on his activities, which in the end resulted in his dismissal from his post. He returned to Istanbul in 1866 and started writing articles for Ali Suavi’s Muhbir and mingling with the Young Ottomans. When the Porte set out to silence the Young Ottomans in 1867 by closing the Muhbir and the Tasvir-i Efkâr, Ziya was appointed prefect to Cyprus one more time. Like Namık Kemal, he declined his new post, accepted Mustafa Fazıl’s offer and boarded a boat to Paris. He seemed to have won the trust of Mustafa Fazıl more than others, since the 250,000 francs set aside as an emergency fund for the Young Ottomans was deposited in a bank account in Ziya’s 45

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS name. Before long, however, Ziya’s relations with his patron started to cool when the latter became increasingly upset over Ziya’s acrimonious censure of the Porte and especially of Âli Paşa. After Namık Kemal’s resignation from the Hürriyet, Ziya continued to publish the paper, but soon thereafter he had to flee to Geneva. When an article written by Ali Suavi suggesting the assassination of Âli Paşa appeared in the Hürriyet in late 1869, the Porte made an official complaint to the British authorities, and Ziya as the editor was taken into custody. After paying his bail of £200 Ziya immediately left London to avoid trial.79 He spent the rest of his time abroad in Geneva publishing the Hürriyet until Âli Paşa died in 1871 and his successor grand vizier Mahmud Nedim Paşa granted a general amnesty, whereupon Ziya returned to Istanbul. Ziya’s old friendship with Mahmud Nedim enabled him to live in relative ease and even to get a post on the Council of State. He then cooperated with Midhat Paşa while the latter was preparing the coup against Sultan Abdülaziz and acted as intermediary between him and Prince Murad, whose enthronement provided Ziya with his post as first secretary of the palace. Before long, however, his intimate relationship with the new sultan alarmed Midhat Paşa, and Ziya was transferred to the Ministry of Education where he served as undersecretary. During the preparations of the constitution Ziya took an active role as the chairman of the subcommittee established to draft the text. After the promulgation of the constitution, he shared the same fate as Namık Kemal when Abdülhamid II, in his determination to get rid of all pioneer constitutionalists, sent him away from Istanbul. In January 1877 Ziya left for his post as governor of Syria and four months later he was transferred to the province of Konya. His last post was as governor of Adana where he spent the last years of his life constantly clashing with the local notables, struggling with financial straits and losing his faith in the future of the empire. He died in May 1880, lonely, disappointed and penniless. 46

INTRODUCTION

Ali Suavi Ali Suavi was born in December 1839 in Istanbul.80 According to his own accounts, his father Hüseyin Ağa, a paper merchant, was an uneducated and religious man who could hardly read and write. After graduating from the rüşdiye of Davud Paşa İskelesi, Suavi entered the service of the state in a governmental bureau (Bab-ı Seraskeri Yoklama Kalemi) where he worked until he went on a pilgrimage to Mecca at the age of 17. Upon his return he entered a competitive examination organized by the Ministry of Education and, after scoring the highest mark, he was appointed teacher to a rüşdiye in Bursa in 1858. He then went to the town of Simav in central Anatolia and briefly taught in a medrese. In 1861 Suavi returned to Istanbul and, according to his own accounts, became a regular of some pashas’ houses where literary and philosophical meetings were held. In 1864 he was appointed the chief judge at the trade court in Sofia but in a year was transferred to an administrative post (Tahrirat Müdürlüğü) and then to a teaching position in Filibe (Plovdiv). Before long Suavi was at odds with Ata Bey, the prefect of Filibe who was alarmed at Suavi’s campaigning political activities. Soon thereafter Suavi was dismissed because of his provocative sermons, during which Ata Bey accused him of inciting the people to revolt and was compelled to return to Istanbul. Thanks to his old protector, Sami Paşa, the minister of education, Suavi resumed his visits to the salons of Ottoman pashas, which enabled him to mingle with the literati of Istanbul. It was at this time that he began contributing to the Muhbir, and soon his articles earned him a wide reputation among the newspaperreading public. In the meantime Suavi was preaching at the Şehzade mosque and, like his Muhbir articles, his sermons appealed to a popular audience. Large crowds gathered in the mosque to listen to his politically charged lectures, which, as an audience member, Namık Kemal asserted were ‘a combination of a vast and refined knowledge of Islam and a genuine interest in the political matters and the predicaments of the Ottoman Empire’.81 Suavi’s political activities, however, were not limited to his column in the Muhbir 47

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS and his sermons at the pulpit of the Şehzade mosque. He was also involved with the Young Ottomans. When the Muhbir was closed in 1867, Ali Suavi, unlike Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, was not appointed to a post but was exiled to the small town of Kastamonu on the Black Sea. Soon thereafter he received Mustafa Fazıl’s offer and fled to Paris from where he proceeded to London to publish the Muhbir as the first Young Ottoman publication to appear in Europe. Before long his selfcomplacent and extremely proud attitude caused a deep chasm in Suavi’s relations with the other Young Ottomans, which, coupled with the sharp shift in his political convictions, led to a point where the small Young Ottoman group regarded Suavi as a persona non grata. While his ties with the Young Ottomans were loosening, Suavi met David Urquhart and his Foreign Affairs Committee (FAC) and became probably the first Turkish convert to the Urquhartite movement. This was a development that without doubt contributed to his estrangement from his former comrades as well as to the society’s decision to commence another publication as the main organ of the Young Ottoman Society, the Hürriyet under the editorship of Namık Kemal. Although the Muhbir was overshadowed by the Hürriyet and the funds at Suavi’s disposal were reduced, he continued to publish the paper until a Greek printer’s apprentice absconded with some key elements of the press. In August 1869 Suavi left London for Paris, where he embarked on publishing another newspaper, the Ulûm which was sponsored by Khedive İsmail. During the Franco-Prussian War Suavi took refuge in Lyons and the Ulûm was discontinued. By the time Suavi began to publish a successor to the Ulûm in Lyons under the title Temporarily: to the clientele of the Ulûm (Muvakkaten Ulûm Müşterilerine), he was already a firebrand Urquhartite agitator who unsparingly lampooned in his column some other Young Ottoman personalities as well as their political convictions. After Âli Paşa died in September 1871, Suavi applied to the Ottoman embassy in Paris for permission to return to Istanbul, but his request was turned down. Thus, while Namık Kemal, Ziya Bey 48

INTRODUCTION and other Young Ottomans were pardoned and allowed to return to the Ottoman capital, Suavi had to stay in Paris until Abdülhamid II granted him permission to return in 1876. During his last five years in Europe, Suavi spent his time contributing to Urquhart’s monthly Diplomatic Review as well as translating some Urquhartite propaganda material into Turkish. He also published some pamphlets bearing the unmistakable imprint of Urquhart’s ideas, such as Le Khiva (1873) and A Propos de L’Hèrzégovine Montenégro (1875–76). When he eventually returned to Istanbul in late 1876, Suavi seemed very close to turning his mentor Urquhart’s lifelong dream into reality. Urquhart always believed that the first step for the salvation of the Ottoman Empire was to restore the power of the sultan and to provide him with ‘a trusty and qualified servant’ who could unveil the true nature of existent international relations and open the sultan’s eyes to the dangers of attempts at Europeanization, which had been pursued for decades and had brought the empire to the gates of complete dissolution. Now his Turkish disciple, Suavi, well versed in Urquhartite ideas and eager to put them into operation, was admitted to the palace of Sultan Abdülhamid II as chief imperial librarian and instructor of the princes.82 During the four months he stayed in this post, Suavi acted as Urquhart’s willing agent and bombarded the widely circulated Turkish newspapers with lengthy letters propagating the Urquhartites’ typically Russophobe, anti-parliamentary/antiEuropeanization theses.83 He enthusiastically applauded Midhat Paşa’s banishment84 and, in cooperation with St Clair, another Urquhartite living in Istanbul, he undertook an anti-parliamentary agitation that included the establishment of the Society of Sem-ü Ta’at (Society of Hearing and Obedience) as the so-called Turkish branch of the contre-révolution movement in France.85 Suavi’s conduct doubtlessly pleased Abdülhamid II, who was at pains to win public support in his war against the constitutionalist parliamentarians, and reinforced his favour in this enthusiastic monarchist agitator. Soon thereafter Suavi was made director of the 49

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS lyceum of Galatasaray (Mekteb-i Sultani), an institution that stood as a monumental reminder of Europe’s influence over the Tanzimat policies and where the French lycée programme was carried out, partly by the French faculty. Without delay, Suavi set about reforming the lyceum by altering the over-Europeanized syllabus and sacking some non-Muslim and foreign teachers from the school whom he believed were in Russia’s pay.86 In the meantime he continued his Urquhartite agitation campaign by translating pieces from the Diplomatic Review and by scathingly criticizing British policy towards the Ottoman Empire in his letters, as well as in the mosque sermons he had resumed. Suavi was dismissed from his post in December 1877 when Ambassador Layard relayed Britain’s official complaint to the grand vizier.87 By the time the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–78 had ended with the crushing defeat of the Ottomans and the Porte had signed the Treaty of San Stefano, which shattered the balance of power that the European cabinets had tried to maintain for decades, Suavi was jobless, in disgrace and gravely disappointed in Sultan Abdülhamid II, whom he believed had failed ‘to lead “the nation in arms” in an inch-by-inch defence of the Ottoman soil against the Russian invaders.’88 In May 1878, Suavi, taking advantage of the sultan’s increasing lack of popularity in the capital after the war, organized a coup that aimed to bring Murad V back to the throne. After having gathered a few hundred armed refugees who had fled before Russia’s advances in the Balkans, he attempted to seize the Çırağan palace, where Murad had been confined. The coup was a fiasco and Suavi was killed in the process, leaving behind him an unsolved mystery of Ottoman history that continues to puzzle and divide historians today. THE NEXUS: DAVID URQUHART AND THE YOUNG OTTOMANS

Civilization is a state of rudeness engendered by corruption, or a chimera with a brain of cobweb and a heart of mud, polluting whatever is within, destroying whatever is without.89 50

INTRODUCTION In August 1867, approximately a month after the Young Ottomans fled from Istanbul to Europe, David Urquhart received a curious letter from a Young Ottoman, Agâh Bey. Will you know who addresses this letter to you today? You will remember the faithful friend, the undersigned, ex director of the Porte of Turkey and your correspondent in Constantinople in the interesting question of Circassia, in which you put so much ardour and showed so much sympathy for the condition of humanity; all the mountains of the poor Caucasus still recall the brave name Urquhart, and all the good hearts of the men [and] countries of the Orient still keep a memory of that illustrious name and a respect fittingly due, and your humble servant above all appreciates the real value of it. Dear illustrious sir, I have been in London about a month; … This time, my honourable friend, our task is a little more difficult, more important: At present it is not at all a matter of trying to make war by advance guard, but of committing oneself to it, to that holy battle, with the whole body together, and that body is the whole of Turkey. My arrival in London has no other aim than this, I am today one of the members of Young Turkey; in London and in Paris we have several friends, the most famous and the most eminent men of the Orient; we have very favourable conditions; we have established a Turkish publishing house with an ad hoc committee for all the necessary publications in the Orient: like journals, brochures, etc.; Muslims and Christians being in agreement, we have all the people of Turkey with us, many political agents everywhere and chiefs and princes. … Considering this, my honourable friend, I write you two words to bring you up to date a little on our affairs while asking you to be so good as to designate for me a convenient rendezvous so that I can see you and chat in more detail. I 51

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS hope that your eminent assistance, since you are the august benefactor of unfortunate and oppressed peoples, will not be lacking this time either.90 Who was this Urquhart whose illustrious name had been remembered with utmost respect by ‘all the good-hearted men of the Orient’ and whom the Young Ottomans were appealing to for assistance in their patriotic cause against the Porte? David Urquhart was born at Braelangwell, Cromarty in 1805 to a Scottish aristocratic family. When his father died in 1817, his mother took him to the continent, where he received his early education. After a long sojourn in Spain, Italy, Germany and France, Urquhart returned to England and attended St John’s College, Oxford. One of his tutors, Jeremy Bentham, who had a high opinion of his capacity, encouraged Urquhart to travel in the Ottoman Empire and to examine Eastern societies.91 Urquhart, however, was motivated more by anti-Eastern political feelings than by any genuine academic interest in Eastern societies when he sailed from Marseilles under Lord Cochrane (Dundonald) to fight for the Greeks in the War of Independence against the Turks. After the Russo-Turkish War of 1828–29 ended in the Treaty of Adrianople, Urquhart left the Greek service and set out for a journey along the frontier, writing reports about the conditions in the area. His reports, which his mother Margaret communicated to Herbert Taylor,92 the private secretary of King William IV, led to his nomination, while he was still abroad, as the British commissioner to accompany Prince Leopold to Greece. When the prince declined the throne, Urquhart returned to England and was immediately presented to the king. In November 1831 he accompanied the extraordinary envoy, Stratford Canning, to Istanbul to settle the frontier problems between Greece and the Ottoman Empire.93 Urquhart’s interest in social, economic and cultural aspects of the Eastern world started to shape during this second journey94 and found expression in his 52

INTRODUCTION well-received first pamphlet Turkey and its Resources, which was published in 1833. On his return through Germany, the ‘bearing of the Prussian Customs Union on English interests had struck his attention, and he had become convinced that England would have to cope, on the European continent, as well as in Asia, with a hostile element, guided by Russia.’95 Determined to increase the British influence as well as the capabilities of British trade in the Near East at the expense of Russia, Urquhart had himself dispatched on a secret mission to enquire into the conditions of the trade in Ottoman territory, which he considered a vast and promising market for British interests.96 This third visit to Istanbul in 1833–34 opened a new phase in Urquhart’s political career. Having found that both the Turkish government and the public were extremely hostile to Great Britain because of the latter’s refusal to assist the sultan against his rebellious vassal Mehmed Ali, Urquhart embarked on a mission to ‘regain the confidence of the Turks and to give an impulse to English policy, such as might be capable of restoring to the Turks’ confidence in themselves’.97 When the Convention of St Petersburg, through which the Porte surrendered a strategically invaluable tract of territory in Asiatic Turkey to Russia in return for a reduction in the previous war’s indemnity, was concluded, the British Foreign Office was alarmed to see that Russian influence in Istanbul was increasing dangerously. Soon thereafter British ambassador Lord Ponsonby turned to Urquhart for help in strengthening British prestige at the Porte98 and through Ponsonby’s request Palmerston appointed Urquhart consul at Constantinople, which the latter refused.99 Urquhart, now naturalizing among Turks and enjoying the unqualified favour of Ponsonby as well as of some high ranking Ottoman officials, gave full vent to his Russophobia. He was convinced that the tsar had intended to seize Istanbul and the Straits as soon as he could subdue the Circassians who had been blocking his way with their resistance against Russian encroachment. Having guaranteed Ponsonby’s support he set out to back the 53

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Circassian resistance through a press campaign and made a short journey to the coast of Circassia where he was received as a hero. Urquhart’s intimacy with the Porte, his relations with the Circassians and his tendency to plot against Russia, however, alarmed the Foreign Office and he was recalled from Istanbul in September 1834. Meanwhile, his famous pamphlet England, France, Russia and Turkey, which he had sent before him from Istanbul, was published and widely reviewed and evoked some other polemical brochures. Encouraged by the success of his two pamphlets, Urquhart undertook the publication of the anti-Russian weekly, the Portfolio, which attracted great attention in diplomatic quarters and caused Palmerston considerable trouble because of some authentic secret Russian diplomatic documents it contained. On the pages of the Portfolio Urquhart developed the thesis that ‘Russia had no rights in the Caucasus and that the “impassable barrier” of the Caucasus was the bulwark which preserved the independence of Persia and the invaluable commercial traffic between Central Asia and Western Europe.’100 Great Britain, Urquhart reiterated, should recognize the independence of Circassia as a first step towards destroying the monstrous force of Russia, which he depicted as the very personification of evil. When he was appointed secretary of the British embassy to the Porte in spring 1836, after the king and Herbert Taylor had subjected Palmerston to great pressure, Urquhart was ready to put his thesis into operation. While on the one hand he was negotiating a trade treaty between Britain and the Ottoman Empire, which he believed would strike a blow at the Russian economy and strengthen that of Turkey, on the other hand Urquhart was hatching a plot against Russia’s presence in Circassia. Towards the end of October Ponsonby and Urquhart encouraged George Bell & Company of London to send the schooner Vixen, loaded with salt, to trade with the Circassians. Since the Russian government had already restricted trade with Circassia to quarantine stations and customs houses, Ponsonby and Urquhart hoped that they would confiscate the Vixen and give Britain a casus belli. The Vixen was 54

INTRODUCTION indeed confiscated, by the Russian Ajax, but Palmerston had no intention of becoming embroiled with Russia and averted a possible major crisis through a delicate diplomatic manoeuvre.101 Soon thereafter, in March 1837, Urquhart was recalled from Istanbul on account of his involvement with the Vixen affair and on his return to England was completely dismissed from diplomatic service. By the time Urquhart was back in England, King William IV was already dead. Deprived of royal favour, he failed to obtain another post in Istanbul, but nevertheless continued his anti-Russian agitation through a series of publications. In 1839–40 Urquhart mingled with the Chartists trying to harness the ‘well meant but misdirected energies of radical working men to the service of his own crusade’102 against Russia and Palmerston’s foreign policy. He captured some leading Chartists such as Attwood, Lowery and Collet, but nonetheless failed to bring over the Chartist movement as a whole after the second Mehmed Ali crisis passed and Palmerston fell from office in 1841. In 1847 Urquhart was elected to parliament for the Borough of Stafford for which he sat until 1852. During 1848 he initiated a motion in the Commons with a view to the impeachment of Palmerston whose conduct in foreign affairs he repeatedly asserted was against the mutual interests of Britain and the Ottoman Empire and in favour of Russia.103 During 1849–50 Urquhart made a fourth visit to the Ottoman Empire and mostly wandered around Lebanon and Syria. His selfappointed mission was to advise the Christian Maronites to abstain from confessional clashes with the Muslims and stop seeking foreign intervention in their conduct with the Ottoman state.104 His undertakings in the region alarmed the Porte, but after the reports from Beirut revealed that ‘the English traveller introducing himself as David and distributing leaflets to the Christians was Mr Urquhart, not unknown to the Porte’, he safely came back to Istanbul.105 Before returning to England he attempted to obtain an audience of leave with the sultan, but Ambassador Stratford Canning, who found the request rather strange, repeatedly refused him.106 55

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Upon his return Urquhart published the Pillars of Hercules (1850) in which he raved about the physical and moral merits of the Turkish bath he had enjoyed and carefully examined during his stay in the Ottoman Empire; he subsequently supervised the erection of such baths in Jermyn Street, London. In 1854 he married Harriet Angelina Fortescue, the sister of Lord Carlingford, who was later to become one of the most active Urquhartites and a constant contributor to the Free Press (later the Diplomatic Review). The crisis preceding the Crimean War gave an impetus to Urquhart’s anti-Russian campaign. Taking advantage of the increasing hostility towards Russia in British public opinion, Urquhart organized mass demonstrations where the crowds protested against Russian interference in the internal affairs of the Ottoman Empire. During the war Urquhart began establishing working men’s associations under the name of Foreign Affairs Committees (FAC) to work for the restoration of the law of nations, which he believed was a universal moral law that the secret diplomacy of the nineteenth century had badly damaged. The committees at their height numbered 150, with a few thousand working-class supporters and ‘assumed the character of a prototype of a highly successful and intelligent WEA [Workers’ Educational Association] tutorial class’.107 He also founded a monthly periodical, the Free Press, in 1855, as the publication of the FAC, which contained innumerable articles on different aspects of the Eastern Question. In the pages of the Free Press (and later the Diplomatic Review) Urquhart and his disciples scathingly criticized British policy towards the Ottoman Empire, revealed the Russian designs in the Near East, remonstrated against the Europeanization attempts of the Tanzimat and rhapsodized over Turkish culture as well as Islamic institutions and principles. In almost every volume the FAC addressed the sultan, urging him to rediscover the Islamic roots of the Ottoman political system, cling to Turkish values and customs, take matters into his own hands and stand up against the constant European pressure and intervention. 56

INTRODUCTION By the time the Young Ottomans fled to Europe, however, Urquhart had already moved almost permanently to his Savoyard chalet in Geneva due to his health and had been working on his new project to revive the study of law of nations through the help of the Roman Catholic Church. This project brought him into contact with a number of prominent clergy and led to his presence in Rome during the Vatican Council of 1869 and 1870. Meanwhile, his old friendship with the French sociologist, Frédéric Le Play turned into a comradeship as the latter rejoiced over the council and considered it an important step in the construction of social reform against the evils of modernism. Urquhart’s relations with the papacy and Roman Church did not mean he had lost his interest and faith in Islam and the Ottoman Empire. On the contrary, he believed that the council would promote a complete understanding between East and West and work for the restoration of law and justice in the international relations that, without doubt, would contribute to the independence and integrity of the Ottoman Empire.108 THE INTERSECTION: THE YOUNG OTTOMANS MEET THE URQUHARTITES

In the end of my visit to his house, this great English man, one of the pioneers of European diplomacy, said to me: I know the Turkish culture represents the highest form of moral and spiritual advancement in the world. Turks should tightly cling to their admirable culture. What they lack, however, is roads and railways and harbours. The reason I have had my oldest son trained as an engineer is that I will send him to the Ottoman Empire to serve the material advancement of the Turks.109 When Agâh Bey’s letter reached Urquhart the latter was wandering on the continent (Geneva, Nice and Rome) trying to convert the Catholic Church to his cause. There is no evidence to suggest that the rendezvous Agâh Bey sought in his letter ever took place. It is 57

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS certain, however, that some of the Young Ottomans were introduced to or put into contact with Charles Wells, Urquhart’s staunchest and most trustworthy comrade who took care of the Diplomatic Review and the FAC when Urquhart was away from England. At the beginning of October, about two months after Agâh’s letter, Wells informed Urquhart that he had had an interview with Ali Suavi: I have that morning received a letter in Turkish from Suavi Effendi saying he wanted to call on the Monday evening. … He came here last night. By a fortunate chance, I think, Suavi had brought these guests of his, two Turkish officials to see me. … I have just been reading a most startling article in Suavi’s paper which is against the meddling of European nations in the affairs of Turkey. I will make a translation of it … and we should introduce it in the DR [Diplomatic Review].110 Judging from this letter it seems quite clear that this was not the first encounter between Suavi and Wells, and Urquhart was already informed about the Muhbir and its editor Suavi. In fact, in September Ali Suavi had inserted in the Muhbir a letter from Urquhart addressed to the Ottoman deputation in London during the sultan’s visit inviting them to have a bath in the hammam that he had erected in Jermyn Street. ‘This is the translation of the invitation letter to the sultan and his retinue’, Suavi had noted, ‘written by David Urquhart Efendi, the distinguished English gentleman, who has been the loyal friend and supporter of the Ottoman state and people for the last twenty five years.’111 During 1868 many editorials by Suavi containing the well-known Urquhartite theses as well as some articles by Wells appeared in the Muhbir, which gives the impression that relations between the two groups had become closer. In May 1868 Suavi told his readers that he had been invited to the residence of David and Harriet Urquhart in London and had met them personally: 58

INTRODUCTION He took me to his study upstairs which was full of papers and said to me with tears in his eyes: ‘These are the drafts of numerous books, pamphlets and letters that I have written for the last thirty five years for the defence and wellbeing of the Ottomans.’ We went back downstairs and resumed our conversation. At some point his wife pointed to their young son and told me that she would send him to Turkistan to see the Ottomans. ‘But’, she added, ‘I am afraid by the time he is old enough to take that journey the Ottomans will have perished.’ Alarmed with these words, I asked, ‘Do you believe that the Ottomans will perish?’ She looked at me, frowned and said, ‘Yes, the Ottomans will destroy themselves.’ ‘How?’, I insisted. ‘By imitating Europe’, she replied. I was puzzled and asked for an explanation. ‘What kind of man would you say Fuad Paşa is?’ she asked. ‘A good man if he is kept away from the financial matters’, I replied. ‘No’, she said, ‘what is he like?’ And then she explained: ‘Fuad Paşa is not like an Ottoman man, he is like a French man.’ These words opened my eyes, and I said, ‘Yes, it is true, aping Europe will destroy the Ottomans.’112 In the same story Suavi mentioned having also been invited to the house of another English gentleman who was a great admirer of Islam and who spent his life travelling in Turkey, Arabia, India and China. This Orientalist traveller was A. Munro Butler Johnstone, a very active Urquhartite who would become the leader of a proTurkish campaign in the late 1870s against Gladstone’s anti-Turkish crusade. The Cretan insurrection, which was in its third year in 1868, provided an opportunity for cooperation between the Urquhartites and Young Ottomans. As I shall discuss in the following chapter, they joined forces to enlighten the British public about the ‘just cause of the Ottoman Empire in Crete’. ‘I have printed your second letter, which was inserted in The Times, this morning, and am waiting for the Turkish translation of it, for 59

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS we shall print the Turkish of the first letter and this also’, wrote Suavi to Wells. You have done an act of justice … because, if the English, who do not know what they are about, give assistance to the foreign banditti, the insurrection in Crete, by the aid of those subscriptions will last this year too; but if they do not give this help the insurrection will completely end.113 The Cretan crisis exacerbated an already existing disagreement among members of the Young Ottomans. On arrival in London, Namık Kemal, in a series of articles in the Muhbir, began bitterly to censure the Porte’s and Ottoman army’s conduct of the Cretan insurrection. Kemal’s attacks on the Porte and the army at a time of such momentous crisis upset Suavi, who thought that all MuslimTurkish Ottomans should be united. Just after he commenced publication of the Muhbir, Suavi had come into close contact with the Urquhartites who must have explained to him in their exegetical style that public opinion in the Western world was becoming increasingly more hostile to the Ottoman Empire and projecting it as a ‘degenerate nest of bloodthirsty tyrants’. Largely because of the Urquhartite propaganda to which he was exposed, Suavi came to see and experience the deepseated prejudices against the Ottoman Empire that prevailed in Europe as well as their influence on the formation of public opinion differently from his other Young Ottoman comrades. While Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, free from Âli Paşa’s strict censure, were giving full vent to their criticism of the Porte, Suavi was becoming more defensive and affectionate towards his fatherland and its government. This reactionary patriotism had an influence on his priorities and led him to put the mission of defending the rights of his country and enlightening the misled European public before disclosing the problems of the Ottoman Empire. Although he remained critical of the Porte, he had come to consider himself a spokesman of the 60

INTRODUCTION sultan – or the second and real Turkish ambassador in London114 – and as his relationships with the Urquhartites developed, he was becoming less and less willing to discuss family problems in front of strangers.115 Accordingly for Suavi, the project of setting up committees in London to struggle for the just cause of the Ottoman Empire in Crete seemed more urgent and necessary than criticizing the Porte’s failure in the Cretan affair.116 He, in this sense, found in Urquhart’s movement an atmosphere conducive to his new mission and, not surprisingly, the Muhbir, as the organ of the Young Ottomans under the full control of Suavi, started to become the Turkish equivalent of the Diplomatic Review. Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey, however, had no intention of transforming the Muhbir into the propaganda office of the Ottoman Empire in Europe. Thus, the small group of the Young Ottomans split, leaving Suavi as the sole writer of the Muhbir while the others founded another Young Ottoman paper, the Hürriyet. While Suavi crammed Urquhart’s theses into the small pages of the Muhbir, Namık Kemal too inserted in the Hürriyet the letters of Urquhart introducing him as ‘a gentleman who loves and adores the Ottoman Empire’.117 Likewise, a letter by Charles Wells, introduced as a ‘European academic who speaks Turkish very well, loves the Ottomans and works for the good of [the] whole [of] humanity’ was published in the Hürriyet. When the Porte accused the Young Ottomans of collaborating with the Greeks and Russians in a plot against the sultan in 1868, Ziya Bey denied the charges by referring to the anti-Greek/anti-Russian activities of the friends of the Young Ottomans in Europe, namely the Urquhartites, as evidence to discredit the Porte’s accusations. In the 1880s Wells paid tribute to the memory of both Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey in his books and emphasized that he was honoured to know them personally. In short, evidence suggests that the Young Ottomans cooperated with and mingled with the Urquhartites and, to a degree, the latter influenced them. Nevertheless, only Suavi wholly converted to 61

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Urquhart’s cause, while Kemal’s and Ziya’s involvement remained limited. The reasons that distanced these two from Urquhart and rendered Suavi the only eligible candidate among the Young Ottomans to become an Urquhartite were many-layered and will be discussed at greater length in following chapters. As a preliminary explanation, however, I suggest that Urquhartites believed that ‘amongst the Turks the only party which had a definite plan of action was the old Turkey or the softas whose programme was contained in two words, justice and legality’.118 Suavi was the only softa within the small group of Young Ottomans in Europe. Unlike Kemal and Ziya, Suavi was a man of humble origins. He represented the Turkish communitarian puritanism and conservatism of the undifferentiated artisan-trader-small manufacturer class [esnaf], which tended to have limited horizons and was mainly the product of the old religious educational system. He was neither well-versed in any European language nor did he have any particular experience of the state to which he could consider himself a part. In this sense Suavi had no difficulty in identifying with the least privileged and most conservative stratum of Ottoman society. He belonged to a group that had long been loosening its ties to the state and that reacted to the increasing poverty and sense of inferiority wrought by attempts at Westernization by becoming more radical. As a self-taught Islamic scholar who began his career teaching at primary schools and preaching in mosques, Suavi was in constant contact with Muslim Turkish peasants and craftsmen who shared his dream of going back to a golden age in which the circle of justice prevailed in its perfect form. More importantly, he considered himself a member of the ulema, whose role was to question the legitimacy of political rule and to promote, sometimes lead, popular rebellion when the tacit contract between the Ottoman rulers and the people broke down. In this general framework Suavi’s arguments were to a large extent in harmony with Urquhart’s thoughts, which he had been propagating for decades before the former even commenced his political activities. Since the time he became naturalized among 62

INTRODUCTION Turks and discovered the truth about their religion Urquhart had become a militant opponent of the modernization project of the Tanzimat and a staunch believer in Islamic principles and institutions. He adamantly argued that salvation for the Ottomans, more correctly for Muslim Turks, did not consist of the importation of imperfect Western institutions into the Ottoman Empire but the return to the unspoiled application of the Şer’iat. Urquhart, unlike Kemal, Ziya and the Tanzimat statesmen, believed that the Turks should look at their time through the lens of Islam rather than interpret Islam through the so-called ‘demands of the present’. He never explicitly mentioned, but on several occasions in his writing nonetheless hinted at, an anachronistic, romantic and in fact utopian vision that longed for an Ottoman Empire frozen in an age before modern times. This envisioned return to a golden age in which only the precepts of the Şer’iat and communitarian puritan Turkish values informed the political and social framework, largely prompted Urquhart’s utter disapproval of any import from the Western world into the Ottoman Empire. Although Urquhart never openly protested against the Ottomans appropriating Western science and technology, as opposed to Western institutions, social and cultural values and mannerisms, he nevertheless was suspicious of any kind of new method or approach borrowed from the West and applied in the name of reform. Had he been a philosophical thinker or artist rather than a political agitator Urquhart would, I believe, have taken a purely romantic view and given full vent to his sentimental exoticism, which he only allowed himself in his private or light-hearted writing, and sternly rejected any leakage from Western civilization, including its science, technology and industry. All in all, he seemed to have sensed the coherent nature of civilization and knew that technology brought with it the content of civilization with all the social and cultural values from which it had emerged. Urquhart, in other words, seemed cognizant that there was no clear distinction between the utilitarian and ethical teachings of Western culture; the material and spiritual aspects of Western 63

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS society were indivisible, and civilization could not be divorced from culture as easily as so many non-Western intellectuals, including Ottoman Turkish ones, would like to believe in the years to come. Nevertheless, Urquhart’s secret dream of a return to an Ottoman golden age, with its preindustrial, pre-Western technological social formations, was something he avoided professing openly as a remedy for the predicaments of the Ottoman Empire because, as a political agitator struggling for the salvation of the Turks in the face of the Eastern Question, he knew only too well that Western science and technology would defeat the Turks in the battlefield no matter how skilfully they used their legendary scimitar. He thus found consolation in thinking that if the social, cultural and political domains of the Ottoman Empire were fortified through an orthodox interpretation of the Şer’iat then the transformative impact of the Western world’s technology and industry on symbolic and core Ottoman Turkish values, namely the culture of little tradition, could be hoped to be limited. When Suavi met Urquhart, he was already strongly inclined to suggest a return to its roots as the Ottoman Empire’s only salvation, a position he seemed temporarily to have abandoned during the first episode of his relations with Kemal and Ziya. His encounter with Urquhart in Great Britain was a turning point in Suavi’s political orientation. Had Suavi not come across a firebrand European agitator like Urquhart, ‘who would rather be a Muslim and Turk than a Presbyterian Calvinist and British’,119 he could have assimilated into his comrades’ ideal of synthesis between Islamic precepts and Western liberal parliamentarianism. His relationship, however, with Urquhart reactivated the softa lying dormant inside Suavi and reinforced his confidence in the Şer’iat. Urquhart, although he had been almost permanently retired to his chalets in Geneva and Nice since 1864 and was compelled to keep a relatively low profile because of his poor health, never ceased to propagate his Russophobe and Turcophile theses until his death in 1877. ‘The last thing he ever wrote’ was the draft of a letter addressed to the Ottoman sultan Abdülhamid II urging him to 64

INTRODUCTION ‘send back the Russian ambassador’, ‘put an embargo on Russian commerce going through the Straits’ and entrust the Ottoman Empire to the real Turks.120 The quirkiness of Urquhart’s beliefs, ‘his all-consuming Turcophile obsession with exaggerated Russophobe overtones, his conviction that Russian gold and influence penetrated the very heart of the British policy’, and the dogmatic and self-centred features of his character led historians to present Urquhart in a half-mocking, half-patronizing way, implying that his arguments and ideas were too grotesque to be dealt with in the realm of academic scholarship. He was presented at his time as a crazy MP, ‘an unbalanced, paranoiac, wild, eccentric Radical’ and ‘a Turcomaniac’. The Urquhartite movement explored as a phenomenon in its own right, however, reflects many distinctive characteristics of the Victorian frame of mind and most of the stock Radical notions of the time. The idea of ‘historical wrong turning since the seventeenth century’; the belief in ‘the need to revive local agencies of government’; the conviction about ‘the general conspiracy of the establishment against the people’ were common Radical notions in nineteenth-century Great Britain.121 ‘All Radicals regarded foreign policy as a conspiracy of the governing classes’122 and ‘the most articulate of the Russophobes were – with a few exceptions – Radicals’123 who looked to: Moscow as the centre of international reaction and called upon Hungarian, Polish, and Italian exiles to prophesy for them that ‘the state of Europe, and the dispositions of the active party everywhere, are such as to make us foresee that a supreme struggle will take place between Right and Might before a long time has elapsed.’124 ‘Between 1815 and 1830, writers like Sir Robert Wilson and George de Lacy Evans had argued that the Russian objective was Constantinople and that, once Constantinople was captured, universal dominion lay within Russia’s “easy grasp”.’125 What Urquhart did 65

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS was to put this in more concrete terms and flesh out the Russian conspiracy in his idiosyncratic exegetical style. In this sense, his influence on Karl Marx who came to share Urquhart’s conspiracy theory owed more to the Russophobe climate that conditioned the Victorian Radicalism than to Marx’s ‘weakness in judgement of practical measures and in his estimate of men’.126 The dogmatic nature of Urquhart’s convictions was a product of the larger dogmatism that predominated in the cultural world of the Victorian epoch. As Houghton pointed out: the Victorian tends to divide ideas and people and actions into tight categories of true–false, good–bad, right–wrong; and not to recognize the mixed character of human experience. … It is the mind that in various ways was bred by the breakdown of traditional thought and the existence of a mass of new ideas, old ideas, or a mixture of both, on every conceivable subject; with the result that it chose one truth to cling to rigidly and insist upon dogmatically.127 Urquhart’s obsession with Ottoman society, Turkish culture and Eastern manners and customs too had its roots in the feelings of isolation, loneliness and nostalgia that fell upon the Victorians. With the break up of a long-established order and the resulting fragmentation of both society and thought, the old ties were snapped, and men … felt isolated by dividing barriers; … nostalgic for an earlier world of country peace and unifying belief. Men and classes were no longer integral parts of a Christian-feudal organism where everyone had his recognized place and function and was united to Church and State by established rights and duties.128 Through his romanticism, Urquhart found in the Ottoman Empire the lost world he believed was naturally resistant to the challenges of modernism that had shattered the integrity of 66

INTRODUCTION European societies. In the structure of the Ottoman state and society, fashioned mainly by Islam, he saw the elements blessed with resilience and working against change; and in Turkish manners he found the codes of respect and subservience, as well as ‘the appreciation of community values’ that regulated social relations and challenged the aggressive individualism of modern European society. While Urquhart’s contemporary Thomas Carlyle was furious with the people in London ‘each passing on quick, regarding not the other or his woes, and taking no thought of his neighbour’,129 Urquhart was infatuated to see that in Turkey no Muslim man failed to greet his fellow countrymen and each Muslim house was open to anyone who claimed to be a guest, ‘men of the lowest rank enter the apartment of the Turkish grandee’ and the idea of animosity between different classes of society ‘never entered any man’s head’.130 Urquhart’s success in converting thousands of men to his doctrines was again closely related to the psychological atmosphere that the traumatic experience of modernism engendered in Victorian Britain. Men of letters in Urquhart’s time in fact became ‘a modern priesthood, supplying the help and guidance, religious and moral, which the old priesthood could no longer provide’. ‘Every writer had his congregation of devoted or would-be devoted disciples who read his work in much the spirit they had once read the Bible’131 and Urquhart did his best to supply as much Bible-like work to the confused and perplexed Victorians as possible. Urquhart’s cause and thoughts were products of the political, cultural and social dynamics of his time. They influenced Marx, King William IV, even his avowed enemy Palmerston, as well as thousands of Victorians and the Young Ottomans. The interplay between Urquhartites and the Young Ottomans as the newly rising Ottoman Muslim Turkish intelligentsia was an outcome as well as a manifestation of the Ottoman Empire’s encounter with and opening to the Western world under particular and peculiar conditions in the nineteenth century. The Ottoman Empire’s struggle to become a modern state in Mann’s terms132 brought about the 67

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS formation of new political, cultural and intellectual planes through the introduction of Western-style education, mass media and modern bureaucratic and diplomatic institutions, of which the Translation Bureau was the most visible. In the Western-style schools students were encouraged to read the latest texts that had appeared in Europe, mostly in France, not only on geometry and geography but also on history and politics. The Translation Bureau, which was established in 1822 and rapidly grew into the centre for Ottoman contact with the Western world, trained its young employees as competent clerks who could comprehend and deal with the Western mind and manners. Ottoman youths educated in these schools, taught in a European language and/or trained in the Translation Bureau, acquired the ability to experience the world through the languages they could speak, read and write, which in turn transformed their habituses. The state sent some of them to Europe to learn the wisdom of Western science and politics; others stayed home to translate the pioneer European philosophers and writers into Ottoman Turkish. A series of seminal works from Rousseau’s Emile to Molière’s plays were introduced to literate Ottomans, thus creating a new culture of intellectual debate. This Western style education and knowledge of European languages not only enabled them to become acquainted with the different ideas that prevailed in Western quarters but also, through various mediations, to develop personal relationships with some Western figures from political, diplomatic and literate strata. When, for example, towards the turn of the century the American educator George Washburn displayed surprise at Vefik Paşa’s knowledge of Western thought – Vefik was originally a clerk-translator in the bureau who ‘used to discuss a variety of questions with Americans on the Robert College faculty’133 and would later become an important statesman of the Tanzimat – the latter would answer that while in France he had had occasion to become a neighbour of Ernest Renan and that they had often discussed questions relating to religion. While young bureaucrats from the Translation Bureau developed 68

INTRODUCTION intellectually charged relationships with members of the European embassies in Istanbul, especially the British and French ones, which included reading sessions at which they read and discussed the works of such as Gibbon, Robertson and Hume, Ottoman envoys, ambassadors, embassy employees and students in Europe mingled with European men of letters to create a network in which lively debates on current international issues, mostly concentrating on the fate of the Ottoman Empire, accompanied philosophical and political discussions. Rüstem Bey, who headed diplomatic missions in Russia, England and Italy,134 was such a figure. He met David and Harriet Urquhart and developed a fairly intimate and remarkably long-lasting relationship with this British Turcophile couple. Rüstem Bey was in constant touch with David Urquhart; they exchanged letters that mostly addressed the predicaments of the Ottoman Empire and he also sometimes transmitted some of Urquhart’s letters and works to Foreign Minister Fuad Paşa.135 Rüstem Bey, the Ottoman envoy to the Duke of Tuscany, accompanied Abdülaziz on a visit to Europe in 1867 and arranged a meeting at Buckingham Palace between the sultan and a deputation from the Foreign Affairs Committees, which Urquhart had organized and controlled for more than a decade. The Ottoman educated stratum’s encounter with European ideas, as well as with European statesmen, diplomats, politicians, philosophers, journalists, writers, travellers and dissidents throughout the nineteenth century resulted in the formation of various types of, mostly unexplored, relationships that sometimes brought the Ottomans and Europeans together in intimate friendships, political comradeships and sometimes cooperation in political conspiracy and plotting. The interplay between the Young Ottoman and Urquhartite movements was one of those many encounters that, by and large, bear the imprints of the Eastern Question. The intersection between these two dissident groups is read in this book within the framework generated by the big encounter of the Ottoman Empire with the Western world throughout the long nineteenth century. 69

2 Teaching Unruly Greeks a Lesson and Saving the Sultan’s Honour: The Cretan Insurrection of 1866–69 ___________________________________________

The Cretan insurrection of 1866–69 struck a new blow at the integrity of the Ottoman Empire, which since the beginning of the nineteenth century had already been damaged through various rebellions and territorial losses. It was neither the first nor was it to be the last revolt that broke out in Crete. Nevertheless, it indisputably proved to be the most illuminating one in terms of giving insights into the parameters of the Eastern Question. It served as a laboratory in which the sensitivities, reservations and guiding principles of the European powers as well as those of the Ottoman Empire vis-à-vis the Eastern Question were put to a nerve-racking test. The insurrection in Crete gave the debate on ‘the question of European intervention into the internal affairs of the Ottoman Empire’ a new impetus. The British and Ottoman governments now for the first time directly associated the Eastern Question with ‘saving the dignity of the sultan’, which became a household phrase in European political and diplomatic circles. Ironically, the Ottoman dissidents, namely the Young Ottomans, were also motivated by the mission to protect ‘the dignity of the sultan’, so held some common ground with their antagonists. Moreover, during the first half of the insurrection, the Young Ottomans did not conceal their approval and appreciation of the Ottoman government’s handling of the Cretan affair. Their criticisms were 71

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS mainly directed at the Cretan insurgents and their backers, which were Greece, Russia and to some extent France and Italy. However, before long this was replaced by their usual acrimonious censure because, having been compelled to carry on their opposition in exile in 1867, the Young Ottomans would come to realize ‘the inefficient and unsatisfactory character of the Porte’s conduct’ regarding the insurrection. An examination of the Cretan insurrection of 1866–69 thus enables us not only to see some distinctive characteristics of the Young Ottoman opposition but also to perceive the primary motif that structured their criticism towards the Eastern Question in general and European intervention into the domestic matters of the Ottoman Empire in particular. In 1715, not long after Crete, the second largest island in the Mediterranean, fell entirely into Ottoman hands after almost 27 years of siege, the Ottomans realized that it was as hard if not harder to keep it submissive and tranquil under their rule than to conquer it. Greek irredentism had always had a remarkable impact on the Christian inhabitants of the island, manifested in the unsuccessful yet significant Cretan insurrections of 1821, 1830 and 1841, all of which the Ottoman armed forces countered.1 Thus, even before the insurrection of 1866 broke out, Crete had already become a permanent sore spot in the Ottoman Empire. The island’s Christian inhabitants were branded rebellious subjects of the sultan intent on being united with Greece, while the Ottoman statesmen came to consider the submission of Crete a question of prestige for the empire. Memories of the shocking and traumatic experience the Greek revolt engendered and that culminated in the establishment of the Greek kingdom in 1832, were still fairly fresh in the collective mind of the Ottoman ruling elite and Muslim populace of the empire. Both found it difficult to come to terms not only with the Greeks’ defiance but also with the joint support that the European powers were giving to the Greek cause. Hence, Greek irredentism, which they received as a stab in the back, came to symbolize the empire’s vulnerability and political desolation, both of which pointed to the 72

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON decaying power of the Turks. Accordingly, when the insurrection started in 1866, the reconquest of the island seemed a sine qua non for containing the damage to the image of the state done not only by the previous revolts in Crete but also by the recent loss of Belgrade, as well as by the concessions made during the Lebanon affair. More importantly, Tanzimat statesmen, whose submissive foreign policy and Western-oriented attempts to bring about reform had long caused uneasiness among the Muslim subjects, had no option other than to take a firm stand on the Cretan insurrection to prove their patriotism to Muslim public opinion, which the Young Ottomans’ inflammatory publications was now starting to manipulate. CRETAN INSURRECTION AS THE LABORATORY FOR EUROPEAN INTERVENTION AND OTTOMAN VACILLATION

Although memories of the Navarino were still fresh in the collective Muslim Ottoman mind and continued to haunt Ottoman statesmen, by the mid-nineteenth century they had started to lose their impact on the Ottoman Empire’s relations with Great Britain and France. From the early 1830s onwards these two Great Powers came to see the Ottoman Empire in the light of the infamous Eastern Question and had been observing a policy of ‘maintaining the political independence and territorial integrity of the Ottoman Empire’. Thus, when the Greek Cretans formulated a petition on 14 May 1866 and demanded a range of ameliorations and administrative reforms2 Lord Clarendon, British foreign minister, following the Palmerstonian principles of the Foreign Office, contented himself with commenting sarcastically that ‘the condition and prospects of the Ionian Islands ought to deter the Cretans from wishing to be united to Greece.’3 Likewise, when the Greek Cretans formulated another petition addressed to the ‘Queen of Great Britain and the Emperors of France and Russia asking those three powers to unite Crete to Greece, or, if that be not possible, to obtain for the Cretans a separate political organization’4 Clarendon’s successor, 73

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Lord Stanley, who took office in the new Derby cabinet on 5 July 1866 admonished the Cretans to apply to their Turkish sovereign instead of European powers.5 After the Hellenic motives behind the petition were entirely unveiled, the Greek kingdom openly involved itself in the affair and urged upon the protecting powers of Greece the need for intervention.6 While on the one hand the Porte set out to challenge the Greek kingdom with the threat of war if it continued to support the insurgents on the island, on the other hand it was at pains to obtain a non-interventionist approach from the Great Powers with respect to the Cretan crisis.7 France, despite its half-hearted support for Britain’s Palmerstonian policy in the Near East since the second Mehmed Ali crisis, seemed in favour of the insurgents on the island. It suggested that ‘it would be far better for the Porte to give up Candia than to seek to conciliate the Christian population by granting concessions, [because] the island was already lost to Turkey.’8 Russia too was pressing about ‘the necessity of giving reasonable satisfaction to the Cretan population’9 and these two powers, much to Stanley’s and Âli Paşa’s disgust, were on the brink of a rapprochement on the Cretan affair. ‘The defeats which Napoleon’s policy had just suffered in Europe made him desperate for an ally and the only candidate seemed to be Russia, the only field of accommodation to lie in the East. Russia too saw her opportunity, and negotiations were initiated towards the end of 1866’10 and as a part of this rapprochement the identic note that pressed for the separation of Crete and its annexation to Greece was formulated.11 The appointment of Giritli Mustafa Naili Paşa (Mustafa Naili Paşa the Cretan), who was believed to have great influence over Cretans of both religions, as the imperial commissioner failed to restore order on the island.12 His arrival was preceded by the decree of the ‘General Assembly of Cretans’, which proclaimed the abolition of Ottoman dominion in Crete.13 The Porte took the decree as a declaration of open revolt and Ottoman troops engaged in bloody battles against the army of insurgents and foreign volunteers. The battle of Arkadi was of particular significance. On 19 November 74

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON 1866, Mustafa Paşa marched out of Retimo to attack the fortified convent of Arkadi, serving as the headquarters of the insurrection in the district of Retimo and a depot of gunpowder and provisions. Combat lasted three days and left thousands killed and wounded on both sides.14 After the Arkadi incident, pressure exerted by the French and Russian governments on the Porte reached its peak and at the end of March 1867 these two powers persuaded Austria, Prussia and Italy to support the identic note, thereby forming a separatist camp that demanded a free vote for Cretans. The opposite camp comprised only the Ottoman and British empires, and the imbalance was clearly discernible. However, as Gortchakoff correctly pointed out, the Porte was convinced that if Great Britain kept aloof from the other powers, the current Ottoman policy of resistance to the intervention would remain viable. Fuad Paşa, the Ottoman foreign minister, declared that the Porte had no intention of consenting to any armistice or free vote in Crete and openly challenged Europe: ‘If the European Powers meant to take Crete away from the sultan it behoves them to effect their purpose by fighting another battle of Navarino. Only in this manner can the Turks lose Crete without sacrificing also their honour.’15 This sentimental defiance was, of course, based on patriotism, but would this patriotic challenge have been manifested had the Porte not been confident that there would be no second battle of Navarino without Great Britain? Most probably yes, because the fear of an outburst of Muslim public opinion convinced the Porte that losing Crete by surrendering to the combined armies of Europe was preferable to yielding pusillanimously to the pressure of European cabinets. THE PLEA FOR FAIRNESS: CONVICTIONS AND CRITICISM OF THE YOUNG OTTOMANS ON THE CRETAN AFFAIR

It was not only patriotism and confidence in Great Britain’s support that led the Porte to take a firm stand with the Cretan insurgents and their backers. The increasing pressure of Muslim public opinion also compelled the Ottoman government to adopt 75

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS more effective measures to repress the insurrection and to ‘save the dignity of the Empire’. In other words, the Porte’s prestige was at stake. By the time the Cretan insurrection had completed its first year, public opinion had started to call on the Porte to adopt a more active policy and to abandon moderation. Fuad Paşa intimated to Lord Lyons that the government could no longer ignore the outcry of the opposition.16 Namık Kemal, the Young Ottomans’ spokesman, indeed was asking in his column in the Tasvir-i Efkâr whether there was a limit to moderation exhorted by some European powers and pursued by the Porte: In Crete a group of rebels broke the law by declaring their wish to be united to Greece and taking up arms against their legitimate government. The Porte did not set about punishing them before they attacked the Ottoman armed forces that were dispatched to pacify the island. The rebels who asked for mercy were all pardoned regardless of their abominable actions throughout the revolt. Even those adventurers who flocked to Crete via Greece and helped the rebels to turn a paradise-like island into hell were allowed to return to their countries with the ships allocated to them by the Ottoman Empire. … [And still] our Foreign Office is being urged to a ‘moderate conduct’. We would like to ask how could the Porte possibly act in a more moderate and generous way than this?17 The Cretan crisis was a watershed for the formation of the Young Ottoman movement. The insurrection enabled members of the Patriotic Alliance to voice their anxieties about the viability of the Ottoman Empire, which they were to elaborate in the following years, as well as to test their power to construct and influence public opinion. Nevertheless, during the first year of the insurrection the target of the Young Ottomans’ criticism was the insurgents and their Russian and Greek supporters rather than the 76

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON Ottoman government itself. Unlike Mardin, who explains this attitude of the Young Ottomans on the basis of being cautious due to the press law,18 I suggest that it was not the Young Ottomans but the Porte that was rather cautious this time in its conduct of Cretan affair. During the first year of the insurrection, the Porte carefully avoided providing any pretext under which an internal opposition could be constructed. In the article I extracted above, although a slight reproach towards the Porte can be detected, Namık Kemal’s censure was focused mainly on European and particularly Russian policy vis-à-vis the Cretan insurrection, which he believed violated both the Paris Treaty of 1856 and the principles of international law. Some European papers have been using the Cretan insurrection as an occasion to propagandize against the socalled Ottoman oppression of the Christians and to advocate European intervention in our domestic affairs. According to a rumour spread in Berlin, Russia stated to our Foreign Office in a circular that ‘to settle an acute problem a State is required to be generous’. We would like to ask what Russia refers to as acute problem? If she alludes to the privileges constantly asked by the Christian subjects of the sultan, Russia’s agents and their intrigues are the only ones responsible for it. … Since the promulgation of the Islahat Fermanı [Hatt-ı Humayun of 1856] in which the sultan pledged equality for all his subjects before the law, no incident has occurred in the Ottoman dominions that may suggest that the non-Muslim subjects have been exposed to any discrimination. There is no measure taken by the Porte that has caused misery exclusively to the non-Muslims.19 During the first phase of the Cretan crisis Kemal almost rhapsodized over the conduct of the Porte. He enthusiastically supported the decision to put down the insurrection by arms and 77

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS considered it the ‘resurrection of the Ottoman scimitar’. He believed that the problems that emerged between the states could only be resolved by sharp sword (seyf-i sarim).20 What is the most convenient and efficient way then to punish those who under the pretext of civilization and humanity plotted against a legitimate government that only obeys the rules and performs the duties of Islam? There is no doubt that that way is the force of the sword, which always acts as a harsh teacher.21 Kemal believed that the rebellious Christian inhabitants of Crete would never be satisfied with any concession short of the separation of the island from the Ottoman Empire. Therefore, instead of wasting time with useless concessions, the Porte had to take rapid and effective action. The Porte’s handling of the Cretan affair thus far, Kemal wrote, proved that the Ottoman statesmen had learnt by heart, through the experience of the Greek revolt in the early 1820s, the golden rule of putting down a rebellion immediately. The Porte’s position vis-à-vis the Cretan insurrection can be likened to that of a surgeon who is compelled to remove the severely injured organ of a patient. If he refrains from immediately carrying out the required operation, the patient’s life will be jeopardised in the long run. … The Porte has done what has to be done and in fact this time it has done what should have been done when the Greek revolt had broken out forty years ago.22 Kemal by virtue of his Ottomanism reflex was at pains to prove that the nationalist argument could not be applied to the cause of Cretan insurgents who wished to be united with Greece in accordance with their ethnic-cultural identity. He asserted that the Christian Cretans were not Greeks because there was no pure 78

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON Greek ethnicity upon which nationalist claims could be based. ‘After Alexander the Great entered the stage of world history’, he opined, ‘Greek ethnicity was exterminated, and since then, the Greek lands, invaded by various powers, have been inhabited by people whose ethnic identity cannot be regarded as distinctively Greek.’ The Greek language as well as the Orthodox Church were the only things that Cretan Christians and Greeks had in common. But Kemal found it absurd to posit that commonness in language should necessitate governance by the same state: Germans, who all speak the German language, have been under different rulers; Belgium and Switzerland, whose inhabitants speak French, have no desire to be united with France. It is even more absurd to assert that all members of a religion must unite within the borders of the same state. Should this theory be put into operation, all of the Protestants in the world would be ruled by Britain, Catholics by France, Orthodox Christians by Russia and Muslims by the Ottoman Empire. Even if we admit that Cretan Christians are of the same race as Greeks, speak the same language and worship the same religion, we still cannot cede Crete to Greece, for one-third of the inhabitants on the island are Muslims.23 Kemal’s perception of realpolitik was somewhat naïve before his exile in Europe; this naïveté found expression in his assessments of the position of the European powers vis-à-vis the Cretan affair. After he came in contact with European intellectuals in Paris and London and found the opportunity to observe the Ottoman Empire from without, Kemal developed a more realistic view of the dynamics of the Eastern Question. Although he remained convinced that France and Great Britain would never let Russia take control of the Ottoman Empire, due to imperialist rivalry and conflicting interests in the Eastern Mediterranean, he nevertheless 79

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS seemed to have realized that upholding Turkey was not the only policy that these two powers could pursue to defend their interests in the region, and if it became untenable they would simply replace it with a new one, like a pact for the dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire. Accordingly, during his exile Kemal largely abandoned his naïve confidence in the staunch alliance of France and Great Britain, and began to express his fears for the viability of the Ottoman Empire. ‘If the Ottoman sultanate appears too weak to hinder Russian expansionism’, he wrote in his column in the Hürriyet, ‘Europeans will set out erecting new satellite states in our dominions.’ Likewise, Âli Paşa, in the memorandum he sent to the sultan from Crete in 1869, presented an in-depth analysis of existing international relations and correctly argued that Emperor Napoleon was compelled to cooperate with Russia due to the defeats his policy suffered in Italy, Prussia and Mexico. ‘Great Britain too’, he wrote, ‘altered her policy of defending the Ottoman Empire a priori, and we can no longer take her support for granted, because she seems so liable to be led by liberal public opinion and has become indifferent to issues that do not pose an imminent threat to her commercial interests.’24 The memorandum concluded that the Ottoman Empire had no power to rely on but itself. In this context, Âli Paşa too foresaw that Great Britain in the near future would devise new measures for securing her position in the Near East, and this new policy was not necessarily dedicated to maintaining the territorial integrity of the Ottoman Empire. His prophesy was borne out a decade later when Disraeli, the Conservative British prime minister, together with the rest of the cabinet, refrained from supporting the Ottoman Empire in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–78 on the grounds that Turkey had become too unpopular in Britain to be backed openly. In fact, the progressive disintegration of European Turkey in the last quarter of the nineteenth century convinced the British Foreign Office that pursuing the traditional policy of maintaining the Ottoman Empire’s territorial integrity had required serious revision. 80

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON The empire’s territorial integrity was then redefined to exclude the sultan’s European dominions and reduced to preserving Asian Turkey, which the British would never allow to fall into the hands of Russia. Modifications in the treaty of San Stefano, the Cyprus Convention, the Euphrates Valley railway project and the purchase of the khedive’s share in the Suez Canal were practical results of this shift in traditional British policy, which focused on the security and integrity of Asian Turkey. Thus, towards the end of the second year of the Cretan insurrection Âli Paşa arrived at the opinion that the Ottoman Empire had no longer any trustworthy allies, and Namık Kemal and his comrades agreed that it was so because they believed that the Tanzimat statesmen had failed to endow the empire with the necessary qualities that would enable it to make friends in Europe. However, in 1866 Namık Kemal was still quite confident in the friendship of France and Great Britain and optimistically believed that those two powers would always remain friendly to the Ottoman Empire. During the period when France was entertaining the idea of collaborating with Russia and M. de Moustier was convinced that Crete was already lost to the Ottoman Empire, Kemal reassured his readers of the loyalty of France and Great Britain.25 Accordingly, Kemal argued in the autumn of 1866 that it was not the Ottoman Empire but the kingdom of Greece that the Great Powers had abandoned. Because France and Great Britain were natural allies of Turkey, Russia would never dare help Greece cede an Ottoman province without risking a new Crimean War. ‘The only enemy we have found in front of us then’, he wrote, ‘is Greece’. ‘We cannot help but remark that the Greek state, which owes its existence to the protection of the Great Powers begged the European Cabinets for a ruler-prince to be seated on the Greek throne not long ago, and today they claim to rule subjects of the Ottoman Empire.’26 During the first year of the insurrection, then, Kemal believed that the European cabinets would cling firmly to the policy of non81

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS intervention because they had welcomed the Ottoman Empire in the Concert of Europe as an equal member. Greece has made up a series of lies about the so-called miserable situation of Christians in the Ottoman Empire through a memorandum that she addressed to France, Britain and Russia. We believe that the Cretan insurrection is an internal problem of the Ottoman Empire, that it by no means concerns Greece, and that those Great Powers are not supportive of her on this issue. However, we are extremely astonished by her attempt to contact the Great Powers directly. Does she address the Chinese Government? Do not France, Britain and Russia have consuls in Crete who are perfectly cognisant of the real conditions of Christians?27 Kemal’s comments on the Greek state were not particularly favourable. After the Greek War of Independence, the Greek kingdom and Russia had become the chief villains in the eyes of Ottoman policy makers and the Muslim public. The Cretan insurrection and the undeniable involvement of the Greek state was the straw that broke the camel’s back. During the insurrection, being in sympathy with Greece became a great sin for Muslims, and censuring the Greek state was regarded as a touchstone of patriotism. Therefore, it is not surprising to see that Young Ottomans saved their most inflammatory articles and their severest criticism for Greece. For the same reasons, when the Young Ottomans fled to Paris in 1867, the Porte, with a view to disgracing them, tried to implicate them in an unsuccessful assassination attempt on the sultan, which was believed to have been organized by Greek agents provocateurs. From the beginning Namık Kemal’s articles on the Cretan insurrection were laden with bitter criticism and mockery of the Greek kingdom. The cynical imperial attitude that the Ottoman elite adopted towards the former dominions of the empire was apparent throughout his assessments on Greece. According to Kemal, who 82

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON wrote on behalf of the Young Ottoman party, the Greek state did not deserve respect because it owed its existence not to bravery and heroism but to an unjust war fought by the combined forces of Europe against the Ottoman Empire. Thanks to the philhellenism of the naïve Europeans, this state along with its ruler was given to the Greeks as a present. However, the Greeks, he wrote, as the Europeans realized with disappointment, were a people far removed from the Hellenes of the classics. Their only industry, he argued, consisted of murder and theft, and their only expertise was brigandage.28 Kemal, in short, believed that it was ‘high time for the Ottoman Empire to put the unruly Greeks into their place’.29 The Cretan crisis also provided the Young Ottomans with an opportunity to discuss foreign intervention in the Ottoman Empire’s internal affairs at length. They always believed that the miserable conditions prevailing in the empire were not peculiar to non-Muslims but affected all inhabitants regardless of their religious status. Muslims were theoretically the privileged class, but in practice they too were victims of the poverty, injustice and maladministration to which Europeans considered only nonMuslims were subjected. In fact, the gaps between levels of suffering were widening at the expense of the Muslims because, while the non-Muslims the Europeans fostered were endowed with numerous privileges with each reform package, the Muslims became orphans in their fatherland. In line with these ideas, in commenting on the Cretan crisis, Namık Kemal scathingly criticized the ‘double standards and the injustices that the Muslims had to put up with’. How could it possibly be claimed that the Christians in Crete are oppressed while they have been endowed with exclusive privileges that their Muslim countrymen cannot enjoy? If the word misery is employed, as done by the Europeans, to designate the situation of Christians, what word, we wonder, is to be employed to describe the indescribable misery of Muslims?30 83

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Kemal believed that European involvement in the problematic relationships between Muslims and non-Muslims was the fundamental reason for the disturbances, which in fact created a vicious circle. The European states based their intervention on their desire to end the hostility between Muslims and non-Muslims. However, their humiliating intervention increased the hatred and hostility towards non-Muslims, which prompted Europe to intervene more, thus causing more frustration on the Muslim front. He therefore called for non-intervention.31 During the days when rumours about the identic note were spreading in European newspapers, Kemal reiterated his dislike of the friendly advice that European states gave to the Porte. ‘Can the European states who so generously extend their counselling reassure us that the rebels will be content with the fulfilment of their demands’, he asked, ‘and become law-abiding subjects of the sultan?’32 Although he maintained that Britain and France were in the same boat with the Ottoman Empire, his faith in this alliance seemed slightly shaken by the news of the infamous proposal urging local autonomy for Crete. He informed readers that ‘the wind of the Cretan insurrection fanned the Eastern Question, and, owing to the flurry of pro-Greek agitation in Europe, French and British governments felt compelled to advise the Porte along with Russia to grant an autonomous status to Crete.’33 When assessed on the basis of the articles I have extracted so far, the attitude of the Young Ottomans’ spokesman did not at first glance seem to pose any threat to the prestige and popularity of the Ottoman government. Nevertheless, the Porte did see an inherent danger in his support for the current policy of resistance to European intervention and for the active use of military force. Kemal’s articles were not only exciting public opinion by pointing out the injustice and double standards to which the Muslims and Ottoman Empire were exposed but they were also increasing expectations for the maintenance of the firm stand taken by the Porte. In other words, Kemal’s praise of the Porte contained an implicit threat that if the Porte gave in to European pressure and 84

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON sought to conciliate the Cretan insurgents, this consent would be magnified out of proportion in the eyes of the Muslim public. Therefore, Grand Vizier Âli Paşa was waiting for the first opportunity to put an end to this unusual and excessive approval, which he thought could easily turn into a weapon against the government. While Namık Kemal continued his dangerous flirtation with the Porte, another member of the Young Ottoman opposition, Ali Suavi, set out in the Muhbir to organize a private collection for Cretans forced by insurgent attacks to flee from their homes and live in abject poverty. Thanks to this campaign, the Muhbir got considerable publicity in February 1867, and the Porte was clearly upset by this internal intervention in its affairs. On 8 March 1867 Suavi wrote an article in the Muhbir in which he severely criticized the Porte’s relinquishment of the fortress of Belgrade in highly charged language.34 ‘This was a diplomatic move which Âli Paşa wanted to conceal’, and Suavi’s article unveiling this new betrayal by the Porte was countered with a curt note from the Ministry of Education to the effect that the Muhbir would be closed for a month.35 Kemal printed in the Tasvir-i Efkâr the order closing the Muhbir and a commentary protesting about it by the owner of the Muhbir. On 14 March 1867 Kararname-i Âli was promulgated, which brought strict censorship. Ali Suavi was first arrested and afterwards told to take a trip to Kastamonu. The Tasvir-i Efkâr was closed for a month and Kemal was appointed assistant governor of the province of Erzurum. Another member of the Patriotic Alliance, Ziya Bey, was transferred from the Council of Judicial Ordinances (Meclis-i Vala) to Cyprus. In other words, the crisis these two influential newspapers created with regard to the Serbian affair provided the opportunity Âli Paşa had sought to quieten the Young Ottomans from the beginning of the Cretan crisis. Meanwhile, Mustafa Fazıl Paşa heard the news of the appointments and, having reassured them that he was ready to support their cause by any means, invited the three opponents to work with 85

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS him against Âli Paşa in Paris. All three accepted the invitation and left the country for Paris on 17 May 1867 with the help of the French ambassador. Their stay in Paris not only opened a new stage for the Young Ottoman opposition movement but it also coincided with a historic event – the first and last visit of an Ottoman sultan to Europe. SECOND YEAR OF THE INSURRECTION, THE SULTAN’S VISIT TO EUROPE AND A NEW STAGE OF THE YOUNG OTTOMAN OPPOSITION

The day after the Young Ottomans headed for Paris the sultan received Emperor Napoleon’s invitation to visit the International Exhibition, which would be held in the French capital in the summer of 1867.36 The sultan accepted the invitation with pleasure, and Fuad Paşa intimated to Lyons that ‘His Majesty also earnestly desired to visit the Queen in London before he returned to Istanbul.’37 The idea of extending the journey to Great Britain was, probably, not the sultan’s but Âli and Fuad Paşas’, who may have believed that an appearance by the sultan in London as well as in Paris would impress the European public and help obtain a proOttoman resolution of the Cretan crisis. Likewise, the British cabinet considered the sultan’s visit an invaluable opportunity to show that ‘England was the richest country and the strongest naval power in the world.’38 It was also important to prevent France from overshadowing the image of Great Britain in the sultan’s eyes through the marvels of Paris during the visit. ‘This will help to keep up our prestige and influence’, opined Lyons, ‘and prevent our being swamped by the magnificent shows and glitter of Paris’.39 Thus, on 29 May the queen’s letter inviting the sultan to visit the British capital and to reside in Buckingham Palace reached Istanbul. The invitation was accepted without delay.40 Lyons reported that the sultan appeared very excited and gratified by the queen’s invitation. ‘Although he is looking forward with great satisfaction to his visit to Western Europe’, Lyons argued: 86

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON that a man of 37 years of age, having no knowledge of the languages of the countries he visits can derive any great amount of knowledge from a tour of a month is not to be expected. But the effect on his mind of what he sees can hardly be otherwise than good.41 The 1 July was the day the French emperor fixed for the arrival of the sultan in Paris. News of the journey caused unexpected joy and excitement in the Ottoman capital. ‘The visit’, Lyons reported, ‘appears to be approved by the Mussulmans of all classes which was not expected by the ministers.’42 When news of the Young Ottomans’ escape reached Âli Paşa, he had the quasi-official newspaper Ceride-i Havadis publish a short notice stating that ‘Ziya Bey, who had recently been appointed the prefect of Cyprus, declined to take the post due to health problems and left for Paris to visit the International Exhibition. Namık Kemal Bey too left the country to accompany him in this journey to Paris.’43 However, two days later another notice appeared in the same newspaper declaring that ‘both Ziya Bey and Namık Kemal Bey had been dismissed from office, for they left the country without the permission of the government to execute their evil projects against the Ottoman Empire from abroad.’44 While preparations for the sultan’s departure continued in Istanbul, Mustafa Fazıl Paşa welcomed the Young Ottomans in Paris who settled in rooms found by Şinasi, the Ottoman poet and former dissident. Meanwhile, France and Russia, along with Austria and Italy, were pressing the Porte to suspend hostilities in Crete and send a European commission to the island to ascertain the wishes of the population with regard to their future lot.45 Âli Paşa repeatedly declined to listen to any such proposals and declared that the Porte would never consent to submit the rights of the sultan to a popular vote. France was also urging the British Foreign Office to concur in the proposal for the establishment of an inquiry committee, but Stanley, highly suspicious of the ‘real and the precise’ object of this 87

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS move, kept to his resolve. Having encountered a firm stand by Great Britain as well as the Porte, both Austria and France were now disposed to act less decidedly than they appeared to do some weeks before. ‘[In fact] M. de Moustier no longer needed so urgently to keep the good will of Russia now that the Luxemburg crisis was over, but Great Britain’s support was all the more important as Austria would not now cooperate at all without her, nor Italy without Austria.’46 Accordingly, they altered the proposal and suggested the formation of an Ottoman instead of a European commission, to which the sultan would also invite the representatives of the different powers to investigate actual conditions on the island. Stanley, whose hopes that the Ottoman army would crush the revolt had started to evaporate, agreed to this new proposal and instructed Lyons to support the proposal with the specified limitations.47 He also recommended that the Porte forestall this proposal by a prompt and spontaneous declaration that the sultan would grant of his own free will real autonomy to the inhabitants of Crete. He argued that by such a course of action, the Porte would not only be spared the humiliation of appearing to yield to foreign interference, but, as had been the case in Serbia, the sultan might expect to secure the gratitude of the Cretans. This consent on the part of Stanley derived largely from the fear that France and Austria would be driven into the arms of Russia by isolating Great Britain in Europe. Fuad Paşa observed that as long as the object of the proposed commission was to enquire into administrative reforms, the Ottoman government was ready to cooperate. However, it was desirable for the Porte to get an explicit declaration from the Great Powers to the effect that they still held to the Treaty of Paris and maintained the principle of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. He also repeated the government’s main reservation that if they consented to a proposal that resulted in the cession of Crete to Greece, the Porte would appear duped and robbed, and this would discredit the sultan more than simply yielding to force.48 In other words, the Ottoman government was reluctant to take any step 88

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON without obtaining the guarantee of the Great Powers and insisted that their consent should be preceded by the consent of the latter. Nevertheless, France was determined to raise the issue before the sultan’s arrival in Paris. M. de Moustier pointed out that ‘it would not be fair to the sultan to leave him in ignorance regarding the opinion of the French government on a point of such importance; and that it would be better to communicate at once than to defer it until His Majesty’s return to Constantinople.’49 Thus, the proposal designated as the identic note was made on 14 June 1867 in the name of France, Russia, Prussia, Italy and, with some reservations, Austria two days later. Although Britain refused to be party to the identic note, Stanley instructed Lyons to support the proposal but to act separately in recommending it to the Porte. In response to the identic note, Fuad Paşa reiterated the Ottoman government’s anxieties about the possible results of such a step and emphasized that although the Porte was willing to send a new commission to Crete, the expulsion of the foreign invaders on the island was the necessary prerequisite for a free and fair enquiry.50 Within this framework, when the sultan’s yacht weighed anchor and sailed to Europe on 21 June 1867, no resolution for Crete in the short term could be discerned.

An Ottoman sultan in Europe After performing the Friday prayer at Ortaköy Mosque, the sultan and the deputation boarded the imperial yacht Sultaniye (a gift from İsmail Paşa, the khedive of Egypt) with the prayers of a crowd. Among the deputation were Yusuf İzzeddin Efendi, the eldest son of the sultan as well as Murad Efendi and Abdülhamid Efendi, the nephews of the sultan.51 Since a large group in Istanbul wished to replace Sultan Abdülaziz with his nephew Murad, the sultan felt compelled to take the prince with him to Europe to prevent any conspiracy. Likewise, the other nephew, Prince Abdülhamid, was known to be very ambitious and had an eye on the throne; therefore, Grand Vizier Âli Paşa insisted that he too should not be left in the capital during the sultan’s absence. 89

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Naples was the first stop of the journey.52 Rome was under siege and Emperor Victor Emmanuel was residing in Paris; therefore the Italian deputation as well as Rüstem Bey, the Turkish envoy to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, welcomed the sultan at Naples.53 Rüstem Bey,54 who was to join the deputation for the rest of the journey, was a friend of David and Harriet Urquhart, and it was he who informed the Urquhartites of the sultan’s visit. ‘This visit’, he wrote to David Urquhart optimistically, ‘may have a very good result and at all events it is not likely that anything unpleasant to the sultan would be contemplated at the moment that he is going to give the Emperor the satisfaction of paying him a visit.’55 In fact, throughout the Cretan crisis Rüstem not only exchanged letters about the insurrection with this British Turcophile couple but he also transmitted some of David Urquhart’s letters and previous works to Fuad Paşa. Urquhart kept Rüstem up to date about the recent debates and the polarization in the British parliament with respect to the Cretan affair and asked him to convey this information in his correspondence to Foreign Minister Fuad Paşa as well as to Grand Vizier Âli Paşa, who took charge of the Foreign Office after the death of the former in 1869.56 As we know, Urquhart never ceased his mission to alert the Turks to the ‘British enemies of Turkey’, and the period of the Cretan insurrection was no exception: I had first intended to have written to Fuad Paşa, or to Âli Paşa on this matter. But I content myself with indicating the points to you, trusting that you will transmit them. … It has been certainly at this moment, a most wonderful piece of good fortune that the Other party are not in power in England. Of the active men on this subject (Cretan insurrection) is that Gladstone and the Duke of Argyll, you may know little. I can tell you however that the first is most bitter; and he has actually said in the House that he trusted that the example given the Provinces would be followed throughout the rest of Turkey. His heart – insofar as he has got one – is set upon destruction. His second passion is 90

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON popularity and both here coincide. The second the Duke of Argyll is not bitter but venomous. I send you a letter of his [in which] you see the spirit of [the] man; especially in the last sentence where he speaks of being ‘happy’ in the prospect of the destruction of the Ottoman Empire. Here is a specimen of the Cabinet that the allied force to Turkey!57 Urquhart’s opinions on Gladstone’s anti-Turkish disposition were to be proven true a decade later when the latter published Bulgarian Horrors and the Question of the East in 1876 in which he was to define the Turks as ‘the one great anti-human specimen of humanity’.58 Likewise, the Duke of Argyll, ‘an old-fashioned Liberal who deemed the Porte an inferior and semi-barbarous Government’, always believed that ‘the civilized powers had a corresponding right and duty to interfere in the affairs of Turkey for the sake of civilization.’59 In this context the duke repeatedly brought charges in the Lords against the Ottoman authorities throughout the Cretan insurrection.60 The day before the sultan left for Europe, he severely criticized the conduct of the Ottoman troops on the island by arguing that ‘the war had been carried on with great cruelty and brutality’ and had resulted in ‘systematic devastation of the country.’61 In the same session, Darby Griffith suggested that pressure might be put on the sultan during his visit in London with the aim of ending the conflict in Crete, which was ‘producing results so shocking to humanity’.62 The members of the cabinet answered these critical speeches with a defence of the Porte. Prime Minister Derby replied to Argyll by asserting that ‘the rumours about Turkish cruelty were not creditable and that the Cretans had had a reputation as great liars for two thousand years.’63 In reply to Darby Griffith’s suggestion, Stanley argued that ‘it would be contrary to hospitality to inflict upon the sultan any remonstrance or lecture with regard to his management of his own dominions while he was visiting Britain for the first time.’64 The imperial yacht Sultaniye dropped anchor in Toulon on 29 June 1867. On the same day, the French police asked the Young 91

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Ottomans to leave France for the duration of the sultan’s visit on the request of the Ottoman ambassador Mehmet Cemil Paşa, who claimed that they could attempt to assassinate the sultan. On 30 June the Ottoman deputation was transferred to a train to Paris, which stopped at Marseilles and then Lyons, where İsmail Paşa, the khedive of Egypt, along with his brother, Mustafa Fazıl Paşa, joined the deputation. Ironically, while their patron was travelling to Paris in the sultan’s company, Kemal, Ziya and Suavi were leaving the French capital for London, where they would stay until the sultan returned to Turkey. Despite France being in mourning for Emperor Maximillian of Mexico, who had been murdered a few days before, the sultan was welcomed in Paris with dazzling ceremony. The memoirs of Prince Abdülhamid, later Sultan Abdülhamid II,65 reveal the effort the French made to impress the Turkish deputation with the marvels of modernity, as well as to display French hospitality. However, the French understanding of hospitality apparently differed from that of the British and, unlike Stanley, Napoleon did not refrain from bombarding Fuad Paşa with teasing questions about the Cretan affair during the sultan’s stay in Paris. On one occasion the emperor jokingly asked Fuad Paşa ‘how much the Ottomans would ask to reconcile with the Cretan Christians and cede the island to Greece?’ During the sultan’s visit the Porte was trying to contract a new loan in European money markets. With this question Napoleon was in fact referring to two of the Ottomans’ vulnerabilities – the Cretan insurrection and the Ottoman financial crisis – implying that ceding Crete to Greece would allow the Porte to borrow money on more favourable terms. During the visit to Paris, the French foreign minister, M. de Moustier, put pressure on Fuad Paşa to accept the identic note, namely the proposed enquiry into the affairs of Crete. But, despite many hours of trying, de Moustier failed to elicit a definite reply from Fuad Paşa, who skilfully avoided making any concrete statement and clung to the ambiguous language employed in the Porte’s answer to the collective representation.66 92

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON On 12 July 1867 the sultan and the deputation arrived in London. Having joined the reception at the Warden Hotel, the group headed for Charing Cross train station and from there proceeded to Buckingham Palace. Queen Victoria, who could not go to London because of health problems, welcomed her illustrious guest at Windsor Palace on 13 June. Here, as a gesture by the queen, the sultan was made a Knight of the Garter at a ceremony held in St George’s Chapel. However, despite all Fuad Paşa’s endeavours, the sultan declined to comply with some ritualistic requirements such as wearing a wig and submitting his sword to the priest. An exception was made and the ceremony was completed without observing the rituals.67 On 14 July, while the sultan took part in a boat trip on the Thames with the Prince of Whales, the Ottoman deputation visited the hammam in Jermyn Street, London – which had been built under the supervision of David Urquhart – to have a bath in the way that they were accustomed.68 The programme prepared for the sultan in London aimed to show him that Britain was ‘the most powerful naval force in the world’ and also to imply that this power was based on the existence of liberal political institutions. Therefore, he was taken to shipyards in Portsmouth and Woolwich as well to the House of Commons, Guildhall and the India Office. During his stay in London, the sultan also received many deputations at Buckingham Palace from different organizations, firms and pressure groups. One of them was the deputation from the FAC, which David Urquhart had organized and controlled for more than a decade. On 20 July a deputation consisting of FAC representatives located in several cities, including some well-known Urquhartites like Crawshay69 and Charles Wells, presented an address to the sultan. The address, succinctly embodying many of Urquhart’s well-known views on the Ottoman system of rule and the ‘true character of Turks’, noted the expansion of trade between Turkey and Britain, lamented the misrepresentations and intrigues that disrupted the Ottoman Empire, referred to ‘the extraneous 93

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS agencies by which revolt was sustained in Candia [Crete]’, and declared it to be ‘the duty of England to arrest those lawless proceedings on the part of a State’, namely the kingdom of Greece, which ‘she had created and nurtured’, and which was ‘in her debt’.70 The Cretan problem in fact was the main issue during the audience, and the deputation argued that ‘by executing the bandits invading his territory the sultan would save his empire as well as Europe; whilst, by suffering such crimes to proceed, he would bring his empire to the dust; and that Europe herself would perish in the internecine strife resulting from that catastrophe.’71 After the address was presented in English, Charles Wells explained its purpose and its content in Turkish. Wells, one of Urquhart’s staunchest comrades, worked at that time as a lecturer in the Turkish studies department at King’s College and was impressively fluent in Turkish.72 How did Urquhart’s disciples, the well-known trouble makers in the eyes of almost all British cabinets at that time, succeed in obtaining an audience with the sultan at Buckingham Palace? Given that a decade later the British embassy stopped another deputation from the FAC going to Istanbul to submit a letter to the sultan containing Urquhart’s exhortations on the Ottoman Empire’s financial crisis, this question inevitably comes to mind. Urquhart’s connections with Rüstem Bey, who was accompanying the sultan in London, seem to be the answer. Rüstem was in constant contact with Urquhart during his stay in London and sent him short letters containing information about the sultan’s programme.73 The Ottoman deputation’s visit to the Turkish baths in Jermyn Street was the result of Urquhart’s letter of invitation transmitted by Rüstem. Fuad Paşa also knew David Urquhart – though I believe not personally at that time – and was quite familiar with his convictions, thanks to Rüstem who acted as intermediary.74 An article in the Diplomatic Review after the Cretan crisis was resolved at the Paris Conference in January 1869 hinted that the sultan was aware beforehand of the opinions the FAC entertained and that he was also informed about what measures they would come to urge upon him.75 94

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON Appearing at Buckingham Palace with an address to the sultan was only part of the Urquhartite strategy to attract attention to the Turkish cause in Crete. Since early 1867, the Diplomatic Review had begun to publish news about the Cretan insurrection. In February the first articles on Crete bearing the signature of two of Urquhart’s devoted disciples, Wells and Caritas (Urquhart’s wife HarrietAngelina), had appeared. Mrs Urquhart’s short article was a critique of philhellenic and anti-Turkish propaganda that called on the British public to help insurgents in Crete in the name of Christianity. The article concluded by asking whether ‘Christianity, then, was to be once again made a cloak for false witness, and hatred, and bloodshed, and bad faith and a tool to exhort the British to hate the Turks?’76 Likewise, the article by Wells, embroidered with lengthy accounts of the ‘unspoilt, brave and honest character of the Turks’, challenged the popular belief that Christians were suffering under the Ottoman yoke. He asserted that the Ottoman government ‘really was most tolerant, more so than many European governments, in religious and civil matters’ and even were it not, ‘the Europeans would still have had no right to interfere into the affairs of Turkey’. Wells also pointed to the double standards that Russia employed and argued that Russia was the last power that had the right to criticize the conduct of the Porte in Crete, for ‘her indescribable atrocities in Poland and Circassia had stamped her as the cruellest country admitted within the circle of civilized states’. He concluded as the Young Ottomans and Namık Kemal in particular did in their numerous articles: ‘If the British – and the European powers in general – really wished to befriend Turkey, which it indisputably was in their interest to do, the best course would be to let her alone.’77 In the next issue, Diplomatic Review published more articles on the Cretan insurrection.78 In one unsigned article, the proposal the Great Powers gave to the Porte for the autonomy of Crete was discussed in a highly sarcastic discourse. Having explained the original meaning of the word autonomy etymologically, the writer 95

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS argued that because of Russia’s efforts, autonomy appeared to have a new connotation. It no longer designated the contradistinction to centralization but became the title of a new form of government and displaced the word dismemberment. Thus, the Ottoman Empire is not to be dismembered by losing Candia [Crete], but Candia is to have autonomy conferred upon it. … This is very well for Europeans, who are all of them perfectly versed in the Greek language; but the Turks, being illiterate, are very obdurate, and will not understand the word autonomy. The Porte persists in using the words, ‘erection of Crete into a Principality’ and it further sees, as the consequences of that act, not only a partial but a general dismemberment of the Empire. … So that to this day is applicable the old maxim …, that nothing could be done with the Turks until they were made to learn a foreign language.79 It was a distinctive characteristic of Urquhartite opposition to accuse British policy makers of not supporting Turkey strongly, or being only a half-hearted ally at best. They believed that had Great Britain given unconditional support to the Ottoman Empire, the Porte would have felt self-confident enough and brave enough to forestall so many disasters. In fact, as the Urquhartites saw it, the Ottoman Empire did not need the military support of Great Britain because it was already strong enough to defend itself against any kind of attack from within or without. It needed psychological support to realize and to trust its own power. Above all, bravery and a distinctive sense of honour were immanent in ‘real Turkishness’, and the only salvation for the Turks was to return to their roots and rediscover the qualities that distinguished their race from the rest of the world. The Porte’s determined and non-conciliatory attitude regarding the Cretan insurrection received great applause from the Urquhartites. The article that appeared in the Diplomatic Review of May 1867 96

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON was a corpus of the Urquhartite discourse summarized above. ‘The sense of honour’, the writer opined, ‘led the Porte to take this stand.’ ‘It is now possible that the long dark chapter of cowardice and submission may be closed, and that the pride of being themselves will succeed to the vanity of aping others.’80 On the day the deputation from the FAC visited the sultan, the Urquhartites were quite hopeful about a pro-Turkish resolution to the Cretan problem. However, unlike Kemal, they never entertained the idea that the European friends of the Ottoman Empire would play any constructive role in that resolution. Their hope was based on only the stand taken by the Porte that the Young Ottomans, now in exile, had started to see from a different angle. As part of his programme in London, the sultan visited Crystal Palace and attended the concert given in his honour.81 Kemal and Suavi were among the crowd gathered in the garden of the palace to catch a glance of the Oriental sovereign. Sultan Abdülaziz, having spotted them from their red fezzes, asked Fuad Paşa who they were. It must be noted that Ziya was not with them, because he had gone to Brighton just before the sultan arrived in London. The reason he had given to the other two Young Ottomans was that, having been so many years in the personal service of the sultan, he had wished to avoid the possibility of meeting him. But, in reality, he had secretly sent Abdülaziz a 26-page petition in which he described the health reasons that compelled him to escape to Europe.82 Ziya did not wish his friends to find out the truth, and he did he not want to be seen with them during the sultan’s stay in London.83 In fact, this was the first fissure that the sultan’s visit had produced in the Young Ottomans’ opposition. Before long a second and deeper one was to appear. Mustafa Fazıl Paşa regained the favour of the sultan and reached an agreement with Fuad Paşa during their stay in Europe. He told Kemal that he had received assurances that he would be allowed to prepare the groundwork for the reforms he demanded in his famous letter.84 Accordingly, he returned to Istanbul just after the sultan, and this was to open a new page in the history of the Young Ottomans opposition. 97

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS

Young Ottoman U-turn and final curtain in the Cretan crisis After a brief stay in Paris, the Young Ottomans gathered in London and Ali Suavi commenced publication of Muhbir, the Young Ottomans’ new organ that would last no longer than a year because of acrimonious debates among members of the group and distribution difficulties caused mainly by the Porte’s prohibition. However, until the Hürriyet replaced it, the Muhbir published several articles about the Cretan affair. In an article in Muhbir of 7 November 1867, Namık Kemal gave the first signals of a U-turn in his attitude towards the Ottoman government. From the tone of the article it could be detected that he no longer considered himself the advocate of the Porte, and he did not preserve the affectionate discourse that characterized his previous articles. Accordingly, the conduct of the Porte with respect to the Cretan insurrection and the current financial crisis in the country were brought into question with bitter censure. ‘The Porte made excessive expenditures on the battleships that had been left to rot away in [the] Bosporus’, he argued, ‘as a result the Ottoman treasury is on the brink of bankruptcy, and the navy could not cope with a couple of worn-out Greek boats in Crete.’ He regretted that ‘the Ottoman government’s handling of the Cretan crisis proved to be a monumental disgrace to six-hundred years of glorious Ottoman military history.’85 As mentioned earlier, Suavi came in close contact with Urquhartites once he commenced publication of the Muhbir in London. His relationships with these Turcophiles were made clear in the Muhbir’s columns in which he, as editor, quoted various news stories from the Diplomatic Review and also published articles by Wells. Two of those articles were on the Cretan insurrection and had been previously published in The Times as letters to the editor. In the first letter, dated 21 August 1868 and also published in the Muhbir on 31 August 1868, Wells drew an analogy between the British government’s relationship with Ireland and that of the Ottomans’ with Crete. Urquhartites resorted to this method in most of their writings during the insurrection. They believed that 98

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON appealing to the monarchist reflex in the British public would help shift sympathy for the Cretan Christians towards empathy for the Muslims and the Ottoman government struggling to save the territorial integrity of its empire. ‘Turkey has as good a title to Crete as we have to Ireland’, opined Wells, ‘[and] on the grounds of nationality or religion there is no more reason to demand that Crete should be annexed to Greece than that Ireland should be annexed to France or Spain because a majority of the inhabitants are Celtic race and Catholic religion.’86 In the second letter published in The Times on 26 August and in the Muhbir on 31 August 1868, Wells focused exclusively on the Cretan refugee problem and asserted that in flying from Crete to Greece the refugees had only ‘got out of the frying pan into the fire’. They were not ‘particularly delighted with the hospitality in Greece’ and in fact were ‘starving among their supposed sympathizers’. The Greeks, however, prevented their departure and the subscriptions gathered in England for the relief of the refugees87 were used to carry on the insurrection. Accordingly, Wells urged the British public not to become a tool of Greek freebooters by sending money to those who ‘plundered and killed all Muslim inhabitants as well as their own countrymen if they did not join the cause’.88 Therefore, it is not surprising to see that Suavi preferred to publish the articles of Wells rather than of Kemal, who was ashamed of the performance of the Ottoman army and government in Crete. The other two Young Ottomans, Kemal and Ziya, however, were not very happy with Suavi’s editorial policy. ‘The Muhbir in fact had turned out to be a rather sloppy product. … It lacked the cutting edge of a sophisticated polemic and was too naïve for Kemal’s and Ziya Paşa’s taste.’89 Kemal and Ziya had at that point no intention of concurring in Suavi’s decision to transform the Muhbir into the ‘propaganda office’ of the Ottoman Empire in Europe and were ready to resume their feud with Âli and Fuad Paşas. In March 1868 Mustafa Fazıl gave the order to Kemal to start another newspaper and, on 29 June 1868, the first issue of the Hürriyet appeared. 99

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS While the small Young Ottoman group in Europe began to split, the Cretan crisis entered a new phase. In October 1867 the Porte, persuaded by the continued pressure from Europe, took a major step in conciliating the Christian inhabitants of Crete, and Âli Paşa went to the island personally to work out a new administrative system.90 In the second week of 1868, the Organic Statute (Règlement organique), introducing a new administrative system for Crete, was completed. The new system offered a large measure of selfgovernment and was structured so that the Christians would have a stake in it.91 The Porte was aware that, for the Muslim public, these concessions given to the insurgents were unacceptable. One member of Âli Paşa’s retinue reportedly feared that they would be showered with excrement when they returned to Istanbul.92 Under the threat of a possible Muslim outburst and after two years of resistance, these reforms were the utmost to which the Porte could agree. However, neither the Cretan provisional government (the leaders of the insurrection) nor the Great Powers were satisfied with the reforms.93 Great Britain and France were insistent on the appointment of a Christian governor-general without delay.94 As expected, the Porte was reluctant to hasten such an appointment, which was bound to exacerbate tension and provoke Muslim public opinion against the government.95 Meanwhile, in Crete the disturbances as well as the local skirmishes between Muslims and Christians continued.96 The Greek government began to obstruct the departure of the refugees who found the conditions in exile even less congenial and were now anxious to return to their land.97 In the Greek parliament, the proposals to admit representatives of the rebels into the parliament were discussed.98 In Athens, volunteers were openly enrolled; soldiers and even artillerymen from the regular army were encouraged to volunteer to assist the insurgents in Crete; funds were furnished to enable the Greek blockade runner Enosis to convey supplies to the island.99 This new campaign in Greece enabled the Porte to threaten the kingdom of 100

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON Greece with a rupture in diplomatic relations and the expulsion of all Hellenic subjects living in the Ottoman Empire. This was a plan that the Porte had devised at the beginning of the insurrection but decided to suspend because, as Âli Paşa told Lyons, it was Greece’s aim to ‘provoke a rupture on the part of Turkey with a view of throwing the blame on it and the Porte was not disposed to give the Greeks this satisfaction.’100 However, in 1868 the burden of guilt moved from the Ottoman to the Greek government, and the Porte saw its opportunity. Âli Paşa correctly anticipated that, having seen Greece fanning the flames of the insurrection, the European cabinets would be unable to oppose that plan as strongly as they could in 1866.101 He now intimated to Elliot that ‘if Turkey was to continue to exist, she had to show that she had at least sufficient strength to enforce respect from a fourth-rate State.’102 Accordingly, on 11 December Photiades Bey, the Turkish ambassador in Athens, presented an ultimatum to Greece and informed the Greek government that if it failed to fulfil the requirements within five days, a rupture in relationships would be inevitable.103 It soon became clear that the Greek government had made up its mind to reject the ultimatum and the Porte wasted no time in withdrawing the Ottoman legation from Greece and initiating a series of anti-Greek measures about which the protecting powers had already been informed.104 It was not difficult to see that the collision between Turkey and Greece was speedily escalating to a dangerous war in which Europe could by no means refrain from participating. The fear of a new Crimea led the protecting powers to convene a conference in Paris that would, as the Porte stipulated, have only an advisory character; its aim was to reconcile Turkey and Greece not by coercion but by friendly counsel. The conference opened on 9 January 1869 with the participation of Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Prussia, Austria, Greece and the Ottoman Empire. After long and detailed discussions, a formal declaration was approved on 20 January. It urged the Greek government to forbid the formation of volunteer bands, prevent 101

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the departure of blockade runners carrying aid to the Cretan insurgents from its ports, and also to facilitate the return of the refugees to the island.105 Thus, this episode in the history of the Eastern Question ended with the supposed triumph of the Sublime Porte. For the Young Ottomans who were now in Europe and sponsored by Mustafa Fazıl, however, the Porte’s conduct during the Cretan crisis had been a disgrace and a far cry from a triumph. In June 1868 when the first issue of Hürriyet appeared Namık Kemal commenced his attack on the Porte. His articles in Hürriyet with respect to Crete stood in stark contrast to those that he had written in Tasvir-i Efkâr before he was exposed to the Porte’s wrath. The Cretan crisis, according to Kemal, presented a striking example of the miserable and incompetent state of the empire. The Turkish army, which had once terrorized the whole world, was now incapable of putting down an insurrection on an island.106 In September Kemal increased the critical tone of his articles, which he couched in highly satirical language. After discussing the imminent threat of a European war and the weak state of the Ottoman Empire, which had been revealed during the Cretan crisis, he assured readers that ‘the Ottomans had nothing to fear, since their government were composed of the most skilful and wise statesmen.’ ‘Why fear the storm’, he asked, ‘as long as your captain is Noah?’107 Kemal continued his acrimonious censure in the following issues and openly accused Âli Paşa of being an unashamed liar. He asserted that the grand vizier’s mission to pacify Crete had proved to be a mere scandal, and the report in which he declared the collapse of the insurrection was nothing other than a ruse to deceive the sultan and hush up his failure. He overtly stated his regret that due to the Porte’s incompetent and submissive foreign policy, the Ottomans would lose their just cause along with their dignity in Crete.108 In another article he elaborated his arguments on the incompetence of the Porte, which came up short before the closure of the Cretan problem at the Paris Conference. In this article, having reviewed at length the diplomacy pursued by the 102

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON Porte from the beginning of the insurrection, Kemal blamed the Ottoman government for being too pusillanimous and lenient.109 By and large Kemal believed that the Porte under the control of Âli and Fuad Paşas had proved one more time its inability to handle the important and delicate matters and to resolve the problems in favour of the Ottoman Empire. It is not a mystery to us that despots are always destitute of necessary skill and enthusiasm in providing a prosperous life to their people. And we cannot help but regret to see that due to the mistakes of some dull-witted and ignorant despotic ministers, the natural rights of the Ottoman subjects have been constantly violated. At the end of the article, Namık Kemal, convinced of the Porte’s hopelessness, solicited the sultan to refuse to take part in the proposed conference. He believed that the conference was a Russian plot to sever more provinces from the Ottoman Empire and that the Porte was too ignorant and idle to avert this disaster. He reminded readers that if a state was not powerful enough to defend itself on the battlefield, it was bound to be defeated at the round table. He urged the sultan to put the requirements of the ultimatum into effect without delay and go to war with Greece to save the Ottomans’ dignity. Although he admitted that the Ottoman Empire was in a miserable state with respect to its military and finances, he was still confident of its success in such a war. ‘No matter how poor and weak our Empire is’, he opined, ‘she is always capable of defeating a bunch of Greek thieves and fishing boats.’ However, he had no faith that the Porte would abandon its usual submissive and conciliatory attitude. ‘Shame on us’, he wrote in frustration, ‘despite all efforts and loss of blood and money, Âli Paşa will yield to Greece and sacrifice our just rights at the conference, shame on us!’110 After Namık Kemal’s exile in Europe started, his apology for the Porte’s conduct regarding the Cretan affair was replaced by bitter 103

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS censure. The Ottoman army and the government, which he earnestly supported at the beginning of the insurrection, became sheer traitors in his eyes towards the end of the crisis. Nonetheless, another Young Ottoman, Ziya Bey was to outdo Namık Kemal’s bitter criticism. Some time after the Paris Conference, Ziya started to write his famous satire-poem the Zafername (Book of Victory). The satire was directed against the political enemies of the Young Ottomans, and its chief victim was, of course, Grand Vizier Âli Paşa. The poem was composed in the most exaggerated and bombastic language, and its ostensible object was the celebration of the grand vizier’s mission to Crete. It consisted of 66 couplets, which give as many five-line stanzas. The first dozen of these were taken up with the mock-heroic panegyric on Âli Paşa’s doings in Crete, and this was followed by ironic praise of the grand vizier’s report that he presented to the sultan on his return from Crete. Most of the stanzas were followed by a commentary prose through which Ziya reinforced the ironical implications of the poem. The poem starts with a mockery of Âli Paşa’s great success in reconquering the island and putting down the insurrection with a brilliant military triumph: Lo! What a royal triumph! Glorious! Splendid! of high degree! Lo! What a joyous conquest! Lo! What a banner of victory! ’Twere meet that Zal and Rustem cry in Heaven, as they wondering see: – ‘God bless us all! What a meteor bright of loftiest radiancy! ‘God save us all! What a wondrous triumph crowned by Fortune free!111 The tone of mockery reaches its peak when Ziya Bey compares Âli Paşa with other famous conquerors such as Alexander the Great and Caesar and concludes that the victory won by Âli Paşa in Crete has no equivalent in world history: Let us search all records through since history hath begun, 104

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON E’en from the furthest East to where sinks the westering sun. Heroes and conquerors bold have arisen – many an one, – But ne’er to a triumph grand like to this hath any won, Iskender nor Hulagu, Hannibal nor Caesar, nay!112 Likewise, the Ottoman navy’s failure to stop the Greek, Russian and Italian blockade runners was laid to Âli Paşa’s charge, and the grand vizier’s military skills were again ridiculed. To underline the ineffectiveness of the navy under Âli Paşa’s grand vizierate, Ziya Bey presents the capture of Arkadi, the only Greek vessel taken by the Ottoman navy after a year having repeatedly run blockades to carry arms and ammunition to the insurgents, as a great success. There were vessels twenty-and-five his high commands to obey; He took one Greekish steamer, the fruit of a year’s essay. Although he ne’er had studied things naval till that day, He wrought that on the squadron nor slight nor stigma lay; Full worthy he and admiral of the English fleet to be.113 Not only the military failure but also the concessions given to the Cretan Christians in accordance with the Règlement organique and the general amnesty granted to the insurgents were censured through bitterly ironical praise of Âli Paşa’s so-called achievement in resolving the Cretan crisis. After explaining in the commentary prose the content of the reforms that brought a new administrative system for Crete, Ziya Bey attributes Âli Paşa’s conciliatory course to his ‘zealous patriotic character and genius statesmanship’: In the perspicacious opinion of our Lord Âli Paşa the absence of good administration throughout the Sublime Empire is due solely to the extent of its territories and to the want of cohesion amongst these. Thus if a number of districts were cut off and formed into compact governments, like the Kingdom of Greece, the administration would in the future certainly be improved. Now this sagacious suggestion is of the 105

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS inventions of that Fountain-head of Perfections, and none before him ever uttered it. And by this sage scheme it is that Crete has been placed under a special government, and the Empire relieved from that trouble. Although such diversities and the symptoms of bad administration may still be seen in the Principalities, in Serbia, in Montenegro, in Egypt, in Arabia and in Bulgaria, it is beyond doubt that, through the lofty zeal of His Highness, these troubles also will shortly be removed from the Empire.114 Âli Paşa’s attempt to implicate the Young Ottomans in a unsuccessful and unproven attempt on the sultan’s life (the Konduri-Altuncu plot) clearly fanned their extreme animosity and hatred towards him, which was displayed in the Zafername as well as in Namık Kemal’s and Ali Suavi’s articles. When the so-called plot, organized by a Russian (Konduri) and a Greek (Altuncu), was uncovered, Âli Paşa saw the opportunity to discredit his opponents in the eyes of the Muslim public, and the Young Ottomans were thus implicated in the plot.115 This caused a considerable amount of frustration on the part of the Young Ottomans and led them to defend themselves by means of letters to the French newspapers La Liberté and L’International, which had published news about the Young Ottomans’ involvement in the plot. They also discussed the issue in detail in the Hürriyet and firmly repudiated the charges. In an article that appeared in La Liberté with an introduction by Leon Cahun and reprinted in the Hürriyet, Ziya Bey tried to show the absurdity of the situation: We have attacked Greece more than any one else and undertook the most remarkable anti-Greek campaign in France. It was our friends who hindered the charity collections for Cretan rebels in London through their publications in the most influential newspapers.116 Despite these facts, how dare the Porte utter our names in relation to a Russo-Greek plot?117 106

TEACHING UNRULY GREEKS A LESSON CONCLUSION

The Young Ottomans believed that the Ottoman Empire came one step closer to dissolution when the Porte tried to resolve a separatist revolt by appeasing the rebels and granting more privileges to the Christians under the name of reform. Their hope, which found expression in Namık Kemal’s articles in Tasvir-i Efkar, that by rejecting European intervention the Porte would put down the insurrection through a successful military operation and settle the problem without sacrificing the rights of the Muslims melted away when Âli Paşa drew up the Règlement organique and promised to appoint a Christian governor-general to Crete. Needless to say, the Porte’s attempt to quieten the Young Ottomans, which led to their exile in Europe, had an impact on how they perceived and criticized the Cretan crisis. During the insurrection the Young Ottomans strongly objected to European interference, supported a military solution and even urged a war against Greece. In the broadest context, they regarded the Cretan affair as an opportunity to prove to the world that the sick man still had enough spirit and vitality to survive. In fact, the same motive fashioned the Porte’s course of action. That Âli Paşa’s justification of the diplomatic rupture with Greece and Namık Kemal’s rationale for a war on Greece were expressed in almost identical words points to the striking similarity between the government’s and opposition’s motives and aims. However, this similarity did not lead to an agreement about how to obtain the common objective. For the Young Ottomans, introducing a new set of reforms to give Christian Cretans an equal share in the administration of the island was not an acceptable way of saving the dignity and integrity of the Ottoman Empire. Likewise, granting amnesty and seeking reconciliation with the rebels, and participating in the Paris Conference, was evidence of weakness rather than strength and served to confirm rather than refute the rumours about the empire’s terminal disease. The Young Ottomans believed that even if the Ottoman government was sincere in its 107

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS good intentions to save the empire, it was too pusillanimous to perform that task effectively. ‘The state is in the hands of lady-like cowards’, wrote Ali Suavi when Âli Paşa was in Crete. ‘We beg the sultan to replace them with real brave men.’118 They were also convinced that Âli Paşa and Fuad Paşa put their personal interests before the general interests of the country and would never hesitate to betray a just cause of the empire, as in Crete, to please the Europeans to whom ‘they owed their positions’. One might ask whether the Young Ottomans would still maintain their convictions about the traitorous conduct and submissive attitude of Âli Paşa and Fuad Paşa had they developed a more insightful and comprehensive understanding of the parameters of the Eastern Question in the mid-nineteenth century. The parallels in the approach of the Urquhartites and Young Ottomans to the Cretan insurrection confirm Mardin’s assertion that Urquhart was one of the ideological antecedents of the Young Ottomans.119 This ideological common ground became readily discernible during the Cretan affair and was revealed in the columns of the Diplomatic Review and of the Young Ottomans’ organs, the Muhbir and Hürriyet. Both sides believed that the Ottoman government had to take a firm stand against the rebels. However, the Young Ottomans’ perception of realpolitik appeared less sophisticated and less elaborate but more optimistic than that of the Urquhartites. Unlike the latter, they were quite confident in the friendship of Great Britain, but then they were less able than the Urquhartites to ascertain and assess the parameters of British politics. While Urquhart was trying to read between the lines of Stanley’s speeches in parliament to ‘decipher the tacit betrayal of Turkey’, the Young Ottomans were declaring their satisfaction with the same speeches, which they considered the manifestation of Great Britain’s traditional friendship.120

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3 The Question of Equality and Foreign Intervention in the ‘Domestic’ Affairs of the Ottoman Empire _____________________________________

ISLAHAT FERMANI (HATT-I HUMAYUN OF 1856) AND THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY

If but the help of God assist in his purpose dear, Full soon will the gypsies sit on the couch of the Grand Vezir; It is but the Jews alone that form the exception here, For the Greeks and Armenians both doth he make Bey and Mushir; The equality of rights to perfection brought hath he.1 When the Crimean War ended at the beginning of 1856, the Ottoman Empire emerged on the side of victory. Its diplomatic position at the Paris Conference seemed far less advantageous, however, than even that of the defeated side, namely Russia. Its allies were not only insisting on extracting a new charter of reform in favour of its non-Muslim subjects as a preliminary step to its admission to the Concert of Europe but also on inserting this charter in the upcoming treaty. They argued that such a measure would help to confront Russia with a fait accompli and prevent it from claiming that the sultan’s Greek Orthodox subjects needed its protection, which had been the casus belli in 1853–54. Accordingly, after the negotiations between the foreign minister Fuad Paşa and 109

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the British, French and Austrian ambassadors, the sultan proclaimed the Islahat Fermanı on 18 February 1856, which confirmed all guarantees promised by the Gülhane Rescript and also pledged the equality of Muslim and non-Muslim subjects with respect to civil and political rights.2 Unlike the Gülhane Rescript, which promised amelioration for all Ottoman subjects, the new reform edict was designed exclusively to abolish discriminations against non-Muslims or to prostrate Muslim supremacy by extending some ancient privileges that had been enjoyed only by Muslims to non-Muslims. In this sense it would free every religion and denomination from all restraint in the public exercise of worship; it would efface from the administrative protocol every distinction or designation making any class inferior to another class on account of religion, language, or race; the use of injurious or offensive terms towards non-Muslims was to be forbidden; no one was to be compelled to change religion; all functionaries and other employees were to be nominated and chosen on the basis of merit, irrespective of religion; and non-Muslim subjects, in accordance with the principle of equality in taxes and duties, were to be admissible to all administrative positions as well as to the Ottoman army. In addition, it granted foreigners the right to possess land in the Ottoman dominions. Despite the revolutionary character of the Islahat Fermanı, Great Britain, France, Austria and Russia seemed dissatisfied. They were determined that unless the Porte was compelled to put the firman into effect through an international and binding contract, the new reform edict, like so many others, would remain a dead letter. They insisted, therefore, on annexing the firman to the Paris Treaty but received a firm rejection from the Porte. Ottoman statesmen objected to any mention whatsoever of the decree in the treaty since they believed it might give leverage to any signatory power to interfere in the internal affairs of the empire in future. The Ottoman plenipotentiary at the conference, Grand Vizier Âli Paşa, in accordance with instructions from Istanbul, resisted the pressure.3 He then presented a proposed treaty article drawn up in 110

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Istanbul, which stated in essence that the rights pledged in the firman to the non-Muslims were purely an internal matter and they by no means could be referred to as a pretext to interfere in the running of the Ottoman Empire. Âli Paşa failed, however, to persuade the powers and, in the end, the Ottoman Council of Ministers authorized Âli Paşa to accept any wording that mentioned the firman without any suggestion of a guarantee or contract.4 Thus, through mutual concessions, article IX of the Paris Treaty was formulated and the Islahatı Ferman was embedded in it as follows: His Imperial Majesty the Sultan, having, in constant solicitude for the welfare of his subjects, issued a firman, which, while ameliorating their condition without distinction of religion or of race, records his generous intentions towards the Christian population of his Empire, and wishing to give a further proof of his sentiments in that respect, has resolved to communicate to the contracting parties the said firman, emanating spontaneously from his sovereign will. The contracting powers recognize the high value of this communication. It is clearly understood, that it cannot in any case give to the said Powers the right to interfere, either collectively or separately, in the relations of His Majesty the Sultan with his subjects, nor in the internal administration of his Empire.5 Although the treaty stated clearly that article IX would not give the signatory states any right to interfere in the internal affairs of the Ottoman Empire, it was not long before the debate on the interpretation of this article started in European political quarters. It was argued that since the promises in the firman remained unfulfilled, the other signatories, in accordance with article IX, could force the sultan – through intervention, of course – to keep his word. This interpretation manifested itself in the words of Stratford de Redcliffe who as British ambassador in Istanbul, negotiated the Islahat Fermanı with the Ottoman ministers: 111

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS The powers, no doubt, were bound by that engagement, but the engagement related to the communication alone, and to nothing else. The Sultan, on his part, was not the less bound to carry out his proclamation of reforms, and … virtually this was the condition on which the Porte was received, to use a French expression, into the family of European States. … If we ask to what account these splendid advantages were carried, the answer must be that the just expectations of Europe with respect to the correction of Turkish misrule were, with some few exceptions, painfully disappointed. … That it was a duty on our part to insist on the full execution of the Imperial firman is, I think, unquestionable.6 Likewise, in the famous dispatch on the insurrection in Bosnia known as the Andrássy note and addressed to Count Beust on 30 December 1875, Austria-Hungarian foreign minister Count Andrássy pointed out that the Ottoman promises of reform embodied in the Islahat Fermanı were no more than vague statements of principle that were not, and probably never had been, intended to have any local application, and the powers had the right to press the Porte to fulfil its promises.7 Gladstone, the leader of the Liberal Party in Britain, gave his full support to Count Andrássy and criticized the British government for misinterpreting the Paris Treaty. In his lengthy speech in the House of Commons on the eve of the Russo-Turkish war of 1877–78, Gladstone flatly disputed the fact that article IX prevented the powers from interfering in the internal administration of the Ottoman Empire: There is nothing whatever in the letter of the Treaty which debars the Powers from interference. … The Treaty never denied the general and indisputable proposition that, with regard to any State whatever, especially with regard to a State constituted like Turkey, the effect of its conduct upon the general principles of humanity or upon the peace of Europe 112

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY might be such as not only to warrant, but to compel, interference.8 In the eyes of the Muslim public, the Islahat Fermanı appeared to be a manifestation of the anti-Islamic and anti-traditional Tanzimat reforms. The principle of equality in the firman (bila tefrik-i cins-ü mezheb-i müsavat), which placed all Ottoman subjects on an equal footing regardless of creed and race with respect to civil and political rights, was perceived as a new betrayal from the Porte as well as the greatest blow ever struck at the supremacy of Muslims over non-Muslims. For the Muslim public, the privileged position of Muslims in an Islamic state was a precept enjoined by the Şer’iat and, by yielding to European pressure, the Porte had not only violated the sacred law but had also rewarded the separatist, aggressive non-Muslims who had proven their hatred towards their Muslim countrymen on numerous occasions.9 The firman also received strong criticism from Reşid Paşa, the architect of the Gülhane Rescript and former mentor to Âli and Fuad Paşas. After the declaration of the new reform edict, Reşid Paşa commenced his criticism, and before the Paris Treaty was concluded he presented an address to the sultan. In the address he regretted that the Islahat Fermanı would pave the way to the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire: We must note that the Islahat Fermanı contains some very unpleasant elements that threaten the integrity and independence of our Empire. Its annexation to the Paris Treaty is bound to give way to foreign intervention and to cause the dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire in the end. The new reforms promised in the firman cannot be fulfilled in the short term without frustrating Muslims and overly indulging non-Muslims. They should be carried out gradually and without the shadow of European manipulation. However, the Porte seems so impatient to please the Europeans that it hastened to grant new rights 113

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS that go beyond even the demands of non-Muslims. We fear that this firman will cause disturbances between the two races and we wholly share the grief of Muslims who have lost their ancient privileges.10 In short, the Islahat Fermanı, which was designed to change the relationship of non-Muslims to the state, also brought remarkable changes to the dynamics between the state and Muslims. Accordingly, Muslim subjects found it difficult to identify with a state they believed had ceased to function as a genuine Islamic institution, and their ties with this European-oriented, submissive state became increasingly more fragile. The observations of William Gifford Palgrave, the British consul in Trabzon in 1872, displays how the Tanzimat reforms radically affected and changed the way the Muslim-Turkish agrarian population in Anatolia or the little tradition in the Ottoman Empire perceived and felt about the state: Now in the minds of these men, … the idea of Islam, of the Koran, of the five days prayers, of Ramadan, of Mecca and its pilgrimage, of God’s Unity and Mahomet’s mission, is more than part of it, it is one and identical with the idea of those ‘good old times’ that they so deeply and not altogether unreasonably regret; with Ottoman supremacy and the glories of the Crescent, with wealth, honour, dominion; with all that men love or hope; with all that makes life worth living. And, in their minds also, the present Government, the whole Stambool Effendee clique, with their reforms, loans, French civilization, centralization, and novel taxes, are no better than traitors to the Empire and to Islam: upstart intruders, whom they would gladly thrust out of place and power, gladly transfer, if they knew how, to the ‘blessed’ plane tree of Atmeidan.11 This crisis of identification played an important role in the formation of Muslim opposition to Tanzimat policies. With the 114

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY introduction of Western reforms throughout the Tanzimat period, the little tradition in the Ottoman Empire witnessed the destruction of economic and social exchange relations and of the cycle of redistribution. The Muslim Turkish lower class masses associated the disappearance of ancient ideals and of the traditional Ottoman economic ethos that had characterized power relations between little and great traditions since pre-Selçuk times, as in the Patrona Halil or Kabakçı Mustafa revolts, with the ruling elite’s modernizing, Westernizing reforms. While the Tanzimat elite gained ground and ancient norms took on new forms, ‘the little tradition protested by clinging more strongly to the paramount symbolic and core communitarian values of the Ottoman Muslim society.’12 The Tanzimat reforms with their increasingly more pro-non-Muslim and pro-Western content came to represent a denial of the economic basis of the community as well as the loss of ‘good old times with wealth, honour, dominion, … with all that makes life worth living’. The lower classes saw in Westernization, which mostly took the form of conspicuous consumption among the elite and new privileges for non-Muslims, a subverting of the traditional mechanisms of reciprocity and social control. Being somewhat indifferent to the Tanzimat reformists’ concerns about how to save the country, these illiterate and poor masses were more likely to blame the modernizers and the state they ruled than to bother with holistic constructs of the Western world or with trying to understand the dynamics of the Eastern Question. The core group of Young Ottomans, as excluded members of the great tradition ‘who were able to see into the mechanics and ideals of the little culture’ and use it for their own modernist, constitutionalist political cause, were cognizant of the symbolic quality of the Islahat Fermanı and exploited the little tradition’s distaste of it to the full. The Young Ottomans believed that when the Great Powers stipulated the reforms as a prerequisite for the Ottoman Empire’s admission to the Concert of Europe at the Paris Conference, ‘the Porte should have reformed the whole administrative system through 115

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the introduction of usul-ü meşveret or the parliamentary system’.13 Such a measure would have enabled the Ottoman Empire to become not a conjunctural but a real, equal and honourable member of the European family. It would also have helped to create harmony and solidarity between Muslims and non-Muslims and hence put an end to incessant foreign intervention. Instead, they argued, the Porte had come up with a reform decree that without doubt pleased Europe but by no means contributed to the well-being of the Ottoman Empire. On the contrary, through the new rights given to nonMuslims, the Islahat Fermanı had aggravated the existing tension between two creeds and prompted the European cabinets to interfere more in the domestic affairs of Turkey: Thanks to the Islahat Fermanı, today, non-Muslims, under the patronage of their European coreligionists, obtain anything they ask for! Nevertheless the Europeans continue to complain that non-Muslims have been oppressed under the Ottoman rule. Because they believe that without a parliament and public control over the government, no right can be properly exercised.14 They were convinced that after having seen the extreme pusillanimity and weakness the Porte displayed with the declaration of the Islahat Fermanı, both Muslims and non-Muslims would start losing faith in the durability of the empire. The former were becoming less zealous in making sacrifices for a state they thought had betrayed them while the latter were becoming more defiant and demanding in their confidence that the Ottoman government could not afford to antagonize Europe.15 The criticism of the principle of equality between Muslims and non-Muslims, originally expressed in the Gülhane Rescript and reinforced by the Islahat Fermanı was a distinctive aspect of Young Ottoman opposition. First of all they were at pains to correct a misunderstanding they thought arose by purposeful efforts of the Porte, which suggested that before the Gülhane Rescript and Islahat 116

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Fermanı, non-Muslims in the Ottoman Empire had been slave-like subjects and deprived of any kind of rights. They pointed out that the Tanzimat statesmen had not invented the civil rights and freedoms for non-Muslims; rather, those rights had been derived from the Şer’iat and enjoyed by non-Muslims for centuries before they were repeated and confirmed in the form of reform edicts. ‘In the latest Red Book, the Porte shamelessly presents the principle of equality as a novelty that was introduced by the reform decrees,’ Ziya wrote, ‘as if they had never read a book on Islamic law or on the history of Islamic civilization.16 They assert that after the Gülhane Rescript, the discriminatory measures against non-Muslims were abandoned and the question of inequality between the two creeds was resolved. Such a statement of ignorance deserves only to be laughed at!’17 Likewise, Kemal argued that the Porte was trying to present itself to Europe as a great reformer by claiming that nonMuslims owed their rights to the firmans introduced by them. The Porte wishes to convince the Great Powers that before the promulgation of those reform edicts, the Ottoman Empire was a despicable despot like Russia, and nonMuslims exclusively were deprived of all rights and freedoms. Then these glorious reformers entered upon the stage, altered the ancient Islamic laws and granted nonMuslims their rights. Since they read only in French and their knowledge of the Ottoman Empire is not wider than that of a European who can speak Turkish, they know nothing about the laws of Şer’iat.18 The Tanzimat statesmen, as the Young Ottomans saw it, were deliberately misrepresenting Islam as a discriminatory, intolerant and despotic religion that oppressed non-Muslims in order to portray themselves as liberal revolutionaries in the eyes of Europe.19 Secondly, the Young Ottomans protested against the chaos brought about by the misconceptions in the Islahat Fermanı. In proclaiming equality between Muslims and non-Muslims with 117

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS respect to civil and political rights, the Porte had created the impression that there was a range of civil and political rights that had been denied to the latter and enjoyed only by the former. Kemal asked what political rights Muslims had been allowed to exercise under the current political regime while their right of political participation, (usul-ü meşveret), which was an essential component of Islamic government, had long been defunct. ‘After hearing that they had been granted political rights, the non-Muslim intelligentsia thought that the Islahat Fermanı would be followed by the introduction of parliament’, he wrote sarcastically, ‘but they soon realized that it was nothing but a ruse!’20 Likewise, Ziya, in his lengthy article devoted to the issue of equality, drew attention to the misuse of the concept of political rights. He attributed this to the ‘fact that the Porte had used French documents in drawing up the Islahat Fermanı and had translated the term without comprehending its meaning’. He pointed out that ‘any reference to the political rights of the Ottoman subjects was absurd while no one was allowed to establish or join in a political party or elect their representatives and have a check upon the government.’21 In this context the Young Ottomans agreed that the Porte had defined political rights as nothing but the right to work in the civil service, and the equality between Muslims and non-Muslims in these terms should be understood in the sense that all functionaries and employees would be nominated and appointed without distinction of religion and race. However, they continued, the appointment of non-Muslims as state functionaries could not be regarded as a novelty because it was a measure to which the Ottoman Empire had already resorted for centuries. According to the formulation Ziya developed and Kemal adopted, there were two types of equality, ‘equality in rights’ and ‘equality in honours’. Equality in rights meant that all subjects of a state would be regarded as equals before the law, and no one would be exposed to any discrimination in exercising his civil rights in the courts due to his religious and ethnic identity. They argued that the Şer’iat already enforced this kind of equality and that it had been 118

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY observed in the Ottoman Empire since its very foundation. In this sense the equality proclaimed by the Gülhane Rescript was restricted to private law (that is universal access to a judicial remedy), and this was not the introduction of a new right but only the confirmation and reinforcement of the law of Şer’iat, which had been occasionally subject to abuse.22 Therefore, to say that the Porte proclaimed complete equality in the first place by passing the Gülhane Rescript was a statement of ignorance that did not correspond to reality. The second type of equality, what Ziya called equality in honours, meant that all subjects would be equal in terms of wealth, status and prestige. It was a utopian, impractical idea that cast the grand vizier and a porter in the street as entirely equal individuals. In this sense the provisions of the Islahat Fermanı, according to which employment was forcibly opened to non-Muslims on a proportional basis, were an unattainable as well as unacceptable attempt to carry out the principle of equality in honours. Therefore, the Young Ottomans objected to the postulation that all millets in the Ottoman Empire be granted civil and military offices in proportion to their numbers.23 To prove the absurdity of this so-called quota system, Ziya Bey resorted to an instructive analogy and argued that: to have one Moslem, one Jewish, one Catholic, and one Orthodox Greek general in the army would no more mean the granting of equality of status to the various minorities than would an obligation imposed on the sultan to change the colour of his trousers every day of the week.24 ‘Likewise’, he continued, ‘to say that the Ministry of Justice should dispense justice equally to both Muslims and non-Muslims is compatible with the principle of equality, but to ask the state to erect churches and synagogues in the same number of mosques has got nothing to do with equality.’ Unlike the Porte, the Young Ottomans believed that the quota system in employment would serve to underline the distinctions 119

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS between various religious and denominational groups and cause disintegration rather than integration in society. ‘If a Catholic Armenian is appointed to an office, the Orthodox Armenians would protest saying that the principle of equality was not being implemented, and they would obtain the employment of an Orthodox Armenian’, Ziya Bey argued. ‘This decision would be contested by Greeks on the grounds that although he is Orthodox he is not Greek and so on.’ ‘Besides, all the other ethnic and religious groups such as Druses, Assyrians, Gypsies, etc. would expect to be “represented” in accordance with the principle of equality.’ ‘In this sense Muslims who belong to different sects would have the right to ask for the recruitment of employees from their own denominations.’25 In short, according to the Young Ottomans, this system would by no means help to create an Ottoman identity but would only exacerbate the jealousy and tension among various groups and strengthen their consciousness of religious, ethnic and cultural identity, which would lead to ever greater fragmentation and acrimonious division.26 As the Young Ottomans saw it, unless the whole administrative system were reorganized to allow all subjects an equal share in the decision-making process without distinction of religion and ethnicity, all reform attempts that aimed to preserve the integrity of the empire by satisfying the demands of non-Muslims would backfire. Each reform edict granting new rights to non-Muslims in order to address their complaints about alleged discriminations would create a new precedent for Europe to interfere in the relations between the sultan and his subjects. As long as a parliament that would enable the Ottoman subjects to control the conduct of their government and correct its abuses did not exist, non-Muslims would continue looking to their European coreligionists for protection. This would not only keep the empire under threat of constant foreign intervention but would also deepen the de facto inequalities between Muslims and nonMuslims, for the latter always found sincere support for their rights in the embassies and consulates of the Great Powers while the former had no place to take refuge from misconduct. Needless to 120

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY say, this imbalance at the expense of Muslims would cause frustration and exasperation both towards the state and towards non-Muslims, and such a picture offered no hope either for the cohabitation of the two races in harmony or for the maintenance of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. The Young Ottomans also saw a threat in the provision of the Islahat Fermanı that enforced the conscription of non-Muslims into the army and concluded in the last analysis that if such a measure were introduced before the establishment of a parliamentary system, the consequences would be dire. The inequality between Muslims and non-Muslims regarding military service or the disability of the latter even to join the army was one of the major accusations the European cabinets levelled against the Porte throughout the nineteenth century, and the Tanzimat statesmen desperately sought a formula that would please Europe without risking the security of the empire. According to the Şer’iat, ‘people of the Scripture’ became party to a treaty called dhimma (zimmet) and obtained the status of dhimmi (zimmî) when conquered by a Muslim state. In accordance with the treaty of dhimma, life, wealth and honour of dhimmis were under the protection of the Muslim state and were also granted the right to reside in Muslim land, to practise their own faith,27 and to work and trade on condition of acquiescence to the state and payment of a poll tax called cizye. Owing to this poll tax enjoined by the Qur’anic verse, et-tevbe (9/29), non-Muslims were not required to serve in the army. Thus, the duty of military service in the Ottoman Empire was in principle confined to Muslim subjects and, until the nineteenth century, recruitment of non-Muslims into the military remained an exceptional and haphazard measure.28 In the nineteenth century, a striking decrease in the Muslim population in proportion to the increase in the non-Muslim population in the sultan’s dominions led the Ottoman statesmen for the first time to contemplate seriously some changes with regard to military service, which they believed was a major factor in this increasing imbalance between the components of the population. In 1835 and 1837 the govern121

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS ment, in order to lessen the burden on Muslims, conscripted a small number of Christians into the navy from the coastal towns of northern Anatolia such as Trabzon, and Canik. These measures caused considerable protest from non-Muslims, and during the conscription most of the young men in those towns took refuge from conscription in the mountains or on nearby islands.29 In 1839 the Gülhane Rescript declared equality between Muslim and non-Muslim subjects, but there was no explicit mention of equality with respect to military service. The regulation of 1846 introduced the system of drawing lots in conscription and also allowed Muslims to purchase their exemption from the service by obtaining a substitute (bedel-i şahsi) to serve in their place. In 1851 another attempt to conscript Christians in small numbers by lots failed. Those who had been chosen by lot either ran away or applied to the Russian and Greek consulates to obtain protection.30 In May 1855, the ancient Islamic poll tax was abolished and replaced with a new tax called bedel-i askeriye, tax for military exemption. The amount of bedel-i askeriye was six piastres per person per annum, which was less than the daily pay of a carpenter or a mason in Anatolia at that time.31 In the Islahat Fermanı of 1856, the equality of all subjects in terms of rights and duties laid out in the Gülhane Rescript was repeated and confirmed. This time, however, it was expressly mentioned that equality of duties entailed that non-Muslims too should be subjected to the obligations of the law of recruitment and conscripted into the army. The question of admission of non-Muslims into the army was in fact a highly controversial one that divided the Tanzimat statesmen into two camps. Although it was agreed by all that unless the burden on Muslims’ shoulder was lightened, the incessant wars and revolts would soon wipe out the Muslim population, no consensus could be reached on the necessary solution. One group, including Âli and Fuad Paşas, were convinced that the principle of equality should be applied without exception, and military service should accordingly be imposed upon non-Muslims. In his political 122

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY testament addressed to Sultan Abdülaziz, Âli Paşa opined that the confinement of military duty, or blood tax as he termed it, only to Muslims was the most outrageous injustice prevailing in the Ottoman Empire and that the exclusion of non-Muslims from the army posed a remarkable threat to the very existence of the Muslim race. ‘In the history of the world, so many conquering races’, he wrote, ‘were annihilated by the conquered race’. ‘What use is a Muslim village boy to his community after he has been conscripted into the army in his prime and spent years in trenches as well as in filthy barracks harbouring all kind of epidemics? The admission of non-Muslims into the army will enable our Muslim subjects to work, farm, trade and flourish.’32 The majority, however, were frightened by the idea of handing weapons to non-Muslims – weapons that they thought could be easily directed at Muslims – and were strongly opposed to that plan. Ahmed Cevdet Paşa, the spokesman of this group, pointed out that when they were forced to live too close to one another, collision between Muslim and non-Muslim soldiers as well as among nonMuslims themselves who belonged to different religions and denominations would inevitably arise. He also argued that differences in worship would disturb the order in the army and prevent the soldiers from acting in harmony.33 Thus, despite the Islahat Fermanı which announced that ‘a complete law shall be published, with as little delay as possible, respecting the admission into and service in the army of Christians and other non-Muslims’, the Ottoman Empire had to stick to the existent system and the project remained dormant until the Young Turks abolished the bedel-i askeriye in August 1909 and urged all Ottoman subjects, regardless of their religion, to fight for the empire in the First World War. In short, inequality between Muslims and non-Muslims with respect to military service was highly contentious throughout the nineteenth century and, not surprisingly, the Young Ottomans took particular interest in the issue and discussed it at considerable length. In the broadest context they did not oppose the idea of admitting non-Muslims into the 123

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Ottoman army. They seemed, however, more concerned about drawing attention to the current unfairness of the situation than about discussing the suggested solution. In other words, they referred to the inequality between Muslims and non-Muslims in terms of military duty in order to reinforce their arguments about the privileged and superior position of the latter over the former. The frustration of the Muslim public about unfair results of the bedel-i askeriye found expression in Ziya Bey’s words: If a Muslim man who has two sons wants to keep one of the boys with him, he has to pay thousands of golden akçes, whereas a non-Muslim man who has two sons pays only a few kuruş and both of his boys get exempted from military service. His sons never live in barracks, never fight in wars and never get wounded or killed; they live in their cosy house with their family while our Muslim boys shed their blood.34 According to the Young Ottomans, to claim that the exclusion of non-Muslims from military service meant discrimination against them was a mere absurdity for a measure applied to a group could not be considered discrimination if it helped that group to prosper and flourish. Kemal asserted that the Ottoman Empire would be more than happy to see its non-Muslim subjects fight to defend the country and share the burden of their Muslim countrymen if it could simply trust their loyalty: The obligation of military service causes irreparable losses to the Muslim population. Given that one-third of the inhabitants in the Ottoman Empire are non-Muslims and that the Porte has no intention of giving them to Russia or to Greece or of converting them to Islam, it would be a beneficial measure for our state to conscript non-Muslims into the army. Yet we have had some unpleasant experience with the Christian subjects. It seems that they are always inclined to revolt against the sultan and are easily provoked to annihilate 124

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY their Muslim neighbours. In this sense we are naturally afraid to put arms in their hands. How can we trust that those who wish to destroy the Empire from within will defend it against the attacks from without?35 Although the Young Ottomans shared with the majority of Tanzimat statesmen the fear of possible betrayal by non-Muslim subjects in the event of their admission to the army, they were convinced that once non-Muslims came to love the Ottoman Empire and deem their country superior to the Eastern Church, they would not only cease to pose a threat to the security of the empire but would also earnestly defend and protect it in solidarity with Muslims. In other words, to turn dissatisfied and rebellious non-Muslims into trustworthy patriotic citizens entailed the creation of love for fatherland and the promotion of Ottomanism. This could be achieved only by replacing the despotic governmental system with usul-ü meşveret, that is, the parliament that would enable the citizens to participate in the policy-making process and to place a check on the government.36 The Young Ottomans conceived of usul-ü meşveret as a panacea for all the problems of the empire: they believed that once it was introduced, all abuses would gradually come to an end, and so too would the separatist tendency of the non-Muslims, because when they were satisfied with the government, they would no longer be duped and provoked by the enemies of Turkey. ‘If we cause non-Muslims to love the country through good administration, they will make good citizens and be ready to shed their blood in defending their fatherland. Thus we will not only establish a brotherhood between the two creeds but also save the Muslim population from becoming extinct.’37 The Young Ottomans saw the establishment of a parliament as a prerequisite for the admission of non-Muslims into military service. Unlike Âli and Fuad Paşas, they were not sure that mixing Muslims with non-Muslims would ease the tension and help to bring harmony to Ottoman society. They believed that forcing dissatisfied and potentially rebellious non-Muslim subjects to join the 125

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS military and fight for a state for which they had no affection would by no means contribute to their integration. Therefore, the process of warming up non-Muslims, so to speak, to the state had to precede their conscription into the military. Once this was achieved, the religious differences among the soldiers would not cause any trouble as ‘it did not in the British army, which included Irish Catholics and Indian Muslims as well as in the French army where Algerian Muslims had long been recruited.’38 All in all, the Young Ottomans did not object to the implementation of equality for non-Muslims with respect to civil and political rights, nor did they view the ethnic and religious diversity of the empire per se as a reason for its weakness or as an obstacle to its revival. They were, however, aware that because of the incessant intervention of Europe in favour of non-Muslims, in practice complete equality caused inequality for the Muslims. Unlike nonMuslims, whose rights were eagerly defended by European cabinets, Muslims had no watchdog to guard their rights, and due to the Islahat Fermanı they were also deprived of their ancient supremacy, which might have balanced the disadvantages of a lack of a protector or guarantor of their rights. Thus, without the establishment of a parliament, which they hoped would put an end to foreign intervention, every commitment to equality would mean amelioration of the conditions of non-Muslims only and hence de facto inferiority for Muslims. In this sense the objections of the Young Ottomans to the Islahat Fermanı surfaced in conjunction with their criticism of European interference in Ottoman affairs. These objections were further developed as a reaction to the unfolding events, in particular to the Cretan insurrection, and to the striking change in the welfare and progress of the non-Muslim communities in contrast to the perceived poverty and decline of Muslims. FOREIGN INTERVENTION IN THE INTERNAL AFFAIRS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE

His demeanour towards Turkish statesmen was of such a kind that they were in the utmost dread of him, … I was more 126

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY than once present at painful scenes between him and Reshid and other members of the government. If some demand which he had made was not acceded to, he would rise to his feet, knit his brows, and pour upon the unfortunate Pasha, who, frightened out of his wits, would cower in the corner of the divan, a torrent of invective, accompanied by menacing gestures. … Moreover, the success which was supposed to have attended this method of treating the Turkish Ministers, … induced other foreign representatives to have recourse to the same means to obtain their ends.39 All we can really wish is that our Ambassador should use his influence for getting good and honest men employed, if such are to be found.40

Embassies as the third power in the Ottoman Empire ‘Turkey is like the man in Molière, who died of three physicians, and two apothecaries’, says one of the characters in Nassau Senior’s travel book written shortly after the Crimean War. She is the seat of war in which seventeen embassies, every one attacking every other, fight their battles at her expense. Leave her quiet for ten years, and she will at least to some extent, reform herself. But the bullying, and perverseness, and mischief of the ambassadors, make everything that is European distasteful to her.41 These words, uttered by ‘an Englishman who had for many years held a high rank in the Turkish service’, mirror the dynamics of Ottoman political life and the reform movement in the nineteenth century, in which foreign embassies played a remarkable leading role. The principal reason the embassies were able to hold such a powerful position in Ottoman politics was that the reformist cadres of the Tanzimat era desperately sought support and patronage to guarantee the continuity of reform attempts. ‘There are two powers 127

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS in a society’, Fuad Paşa is reported to have said. ‘One comes from above and the other from below.’ In the Ottoman Empire, according to Fuad Paşa, the power from above, namely the sultan, oppressed everyone, and it was impossible to consolidate power from below, namely civil society. ‘Therefore’, he opined, ‘we have to look to the sides and appeal to a third power, viz., the embassies.’42 In this sense Tanzimat statesmen sought to obtain friends from among the various powers and to use their influential protectors to gain independence or to transfer power from the palace to the Sublime Porte, as well as to strengthen their position against their rival political cliques. The court historian Ahmed Cevdet Paşa states that each Tanzimat statesman, like an asylum seeker, asked to be taken care of by one of the embassies and openly engaged himself with a Great Power.43 Thus, it is not surprising to see that in the Ottoman historiography, almost all key figures in the nineteenth century were referred to in connection with their foreign backers, such as İngilizci Reşid Paşa (Reşid Paşa the English) or Rusçu Nedim Paşa, also known as Nedimoff (Nedim Paşa the Russian). The perceived links and engagements between foreign powers and the various Ottoman political cliques, coupled with the tendency of the Great Powers to exercise control over the Ottoman Empire in accordance with the Eastern Question, placed the embassies at the heart of Ottoman political life. Hence, throughout the nineteenth century the parameters of internal Ottoman politics became vulnerable to foreign intervention and to a large extent were fashioned by the dynamics of international rivalry for command of the Eastern Mediterranean. The fall from office of Reşid Paşa, Great Britain’s protégé, in 1855 crystallizes the embassies’ manipulation of the Ottoman domestic political arena.44 The extreme power that the embassies exercised over Ottoman politics characterized the Tanzimat period and, as a commentator points out, led to the impression that it was not the sultan but the embassies that formed or dismissed the governments.45 128

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Apart from keeping the reformist cadres in power, the existence of different political factions had an important function in resolving diplomatic crises. When a major crisis arose between the Ottoman government and a certain country, to lessen the tension and please the concerned power the sultan tended to favour whichever political clique was on good terms with that country. This helped to promote competition among the Great Powers and prevent them from merging in a bloc against the Ottoman Empire. Tanzimat statesmen perceived international rivalry as an insurance against the dismemberment and invasion of the Ottoman Empire by any single power; in this sense, it was important to have different options to play off one great power against another and please those powers alternately.46 Needless to say, to base the continuity of the state on the incompatible interests of Great Powers and to give the embassies a crucial place within the system was a risky business, and before long it started producing damaging side effects. Endowed with the power to interfere in the affairs of the government and motivated by the mission of reforming the Ottoman Empire, the embassies in the capital and the consulates across the sultan’s dominions appeared as an imperium in imperio. They were extremely vigilant in protecting the rights of their countries’ citizens as well as that of non-Muslim subjects, worked as highly effective pressure groups to keep a constant vigil upon the conduct of the government and constantly drew attention to the gap between newly introduced laws and their application. Thus, non-Muslims found very enthusiastic advocates in the embassies and looked to them for protection against any malfeasance and injustice they believed themselves to have suffered. By means of the protective intervention of the embassies, the share of non-Muslims suffering from the systemic wrongdoings dramatically decreased, while the conditions of Muslims remained unchanged, indeed deteriorated. Therefore, de jure equality of rights between Muslims and nonMuslims turned into de facto inequality, to the disadvantage of the former. 129

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS As Austen Henry Layard, the British MP and later ambassador in Istanbul pointed out: European Diplomatic Representatives and European Consuls have constituted themselves the advocates and defenders of the Christians, and very few cases of oppression escape their vigilance, and are not brought to the notice of the Porte. The Turkish government and Turkish local authorities are compelled to submit, however unwillingly, to their constant interference. There is no doubt that too often it is justified by the case itself; but very frequently the grounds of complaint are very slight indeed. The Christians have unfortunately got into a habit of seeking foreign interference to save themselves from doing that which is even right, such, for instance, as paying a just debt, or even for the sake of revenging themselves upon a Muhammedan. This state of things naturally leads to very great inconvenience, and often to very gross injustice.47

Embassies as the protector of non-Muslim Ottoman subjects The Porte’s submissive attitude towards the interference of the embassies in favour of non-Muslims and foreigners discredited it in the eyes of the Muslim public. Having seen that the former dhimmis enjoyed a privileged status under the protection of the embassies, to whose pressure the Porte pusillanimously yielded, Muslims felt betrayed by their own government. They also perceived the stark contrast between the flourishing prosperity of the non-Muslims, whom the embassies guarded against illegal taxation, and the increasing pauperism among Muslims and consequently developed a deep distaste for the reforms as well as for their introducers and beneficiaries. Reform for them was not an abstract concept but a concrete injustice that came in the form of heavy taxation, lack of protection against malfeasance, not to mention the well-off and pompous non-Muslim with his newly granted equality and conspicuous Western style consumption, as 130

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY well as the free spending of the French-speaking, frock-coated Istanbul elite. This is the context in which Young Ottoman convictions about the principle of equality declared in the Islahat Fermanı and about the intervention of the embassies should be understood. The Young Ottomans neither viewed the religious and ethnic fragmentation of Ottoman society per se as an obstacle to progress nor believed that the empire was doomed to perish because of the lack of national homogeneity. They were convinced, however, that as long as foreign powers interfered in relations between the sultan and his non-Muslim subjects by degrading Muslims to the level of second-class citizens, then the necessary harmony between Muslims and non-Muslims, which they considered a sine qua non for the salvation of the empire, would merely remain a utopian ideal. Therefore, they repeatedly protested against the intervention of the embassies in favour of non-Muslims and drew attention to the practical inequality that was caused, ironically, by the introduction of theoretical equality. ‘If a Christian subject has a complaint, he straightaway applies to one of the consuls in his district and asks him to sort the problem out’ wrote Ziya: The consul puts pressure on the governor, and if he fails to obtain a favourable verdict, our Christian knocks on the Patriarch’s door. Through the mediation of the Patriarch, the problem is resolved and the demand of the Christian subject is most probably fulfilled even if he is the guilty or the unjust party. Provided the Patriarch was no help, the Christian, in accordance with his denomination, looks to the Russian or French or British embassies for interference and eventually through the advocacy of ‘his protector’ he gets whatever he was after. Ziya continued: 131

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Likewise, if a Christian is subjected to an illegal treatment or is arrested without a warrant, his protectors take the matter into their own hands and contain the damage immediately, whereas if the same thing happens to a Muslim, he is imprisoned although his innocence is as clear as the sunlight, because no one cares about his rights. Now, is that what you call equality?48 Suavi too, in words almost identical to Ziya’s, voiced the frustration of the Muslim public about the unfair results of the protection, or positive discrimination, so to speak, provided to nonMuslims by the embassies. He characterized the Islahat Fermanı as ‘the document that declared the sovereignty of Europe over the Ottoman Empire’49 and argued that owing to the intervention of the embassies, non-Muslims became not equal but superior to Muslims. ‘The Christians have community leaders, patriarchs, supporters in Europe and patrons in the consulates and embassies’, he complained. If a Christian is ill-treated by the kaymakam (district governor), he makes a complaint to the çorbacı (community leader), who informs the Patriarch without delay. The Patriarch makes a scene at the Sublime Porte in which the embassies get involved as well, and they have the kaymakam dismissed from office at once. Now, is there such a place to where the Muslims can look for help against maltreatment?50 The Young Ottomans correctly diagnosed the reason for the extraordinarily powerful position of the embassies within the Ottoman political system. ‘Before the Tanzimat, ambassadors used to deal with mundane jobs, and it was unimaginable for them to meddle with the decisions and conduct of the government, neither could they dream of lecturing the foreign minister or obtaining an audience with the sultan whenever they pleased.’ But after Reşid Paşa sought the support of the European cabinets to ‘guarantee the reform project as well as his own political career’, the embassies 132

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY rose to a very influential position and their intervention in Ottoman politics became institutionalized.51 The damage ‘done to the pride and honour of the Ottomans’ was for the Young Ottomans, indescribable. They bitterly complained that ambassadors and even their interpreters treated the Ottoman statesmen as their inferiors and defiantly violated the rules of etiquette observed in the Ottoman state. ‘When they pay a visit to the grand vizier the ambassadors place themselves comfortably in his chair and offer the grand vizier the guest chair as if they own the place’, Ziya wrote. ‘The highest ranking officials in the foreign office are exposed to all kind of insult and denigration by the embassy interpreters and treated by them like footmen.’52 In a Hürriyet article, Kemal too, through his own experience in the Translation Bureau, illustrates the domineering attitude of the embassies in the daily routine of the Ottoman foreign ministry. The undersecretary (müsteşar) to the foreign minister, who occupies the second most important position in the office, receives the embassy interpreters throughout the day who pay visits uninvited. The interpreter enters the room without even caring to greet the undersecretary; as if it is not the foreign office of the Ottoman Empire but a coffee house in Istanbul; he arrogantly sits in a chair, crosses his legs, lights his cigarette and starts questioning the undersecretary. ‘We presented a petition a while ago’, he says, ‘but have not received the answer to it, what a disorganized, inefficient state this is, your days are numbered, your ruin is imminent!’ The undersecretary, alarmed and panicked, makes endless apologies and gives orders to find the petition in question among the piles of paper. After the petition is found, the interpreter dictates the answer to the petition to the undersecretary and if he can write in Turkish he even pens it himself. This humiliating scene takes place every day and characterizes the nature of the relations between the embassies and our foreign office.53 133

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS In discussing the extraordinarily influential and powerful position that the embassy interpreters held, Ziya Bey called attention to the intimate and interest-based relations they developed with the Ottoman statesmen. According to Ziya, since the ambassadors entirely depended on the embassy interpreters to communicate with the Ottoman authorities, the latter could easily affect and manipulate the formation of opinion within the embassy. This placed them in a key position, which they constantly abused. They took advantage of the vulnerable situation of the ministers and implicitly threatened to discredit them in the eyes of the ambassadors, which would cause considerable harm to any Ottoman statesman’s career. ‘Thus each embassy interpreter became a petty god ruling over the Ottoman ministers’, Ziya remarked, ‘Pizani, Scheffer, Outrey, de la Porte, Meyer, they all made fortunes by exploiting the insecure and fragile positions of the Tanzimat statesmen and controlled both the ambassadors and the Porte.’54 As Ziya saw it, the embassy interpreters were one of the parties responsible for the emergence of the Eastern Question. He believed that the destructive policies of the European powers vis-àvis the Ottoman Empire were formed on the basis of the reports of the ambassadors who were misled and manipulated by the interpreters, each of whom either was working in the Russian service or was being bribed by some Ottoman statesmen to eliminate his political rivals.55 The system of using dragomans (interpreters) in diplomatic affairs, as well as an absence of professional ethics and loyalty among dragomans, was a question that almost from the start troubled both the Porte and foreign legations in the Ottoman Empire. The dragomans were mostly ‘accused of serving their own interests, of selling services to the highest bidder, of forming a sort of self-contained, coherent Levantine dragoman group which owed no loyalty to anybody’.56 One European diplomat who championed the abolition of the dragoman system was David Urquhart who, more than thirty years before Ziya came into contact with his propaganda, in almost identical words, had strongly complained 134

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY that the Greek and Levantine dragomans threatened the security of the Ottoman Empire and prevented the formation of friendly relations between the East and the West.57 When he was appointed secretary to the British embassy in Istanbul in 1835, Urquhart, after pointing out that the English dragoman was the brother of the Russian dragoman, stipulated that the dragoman system should be abolished in the embassy before he departed for his new post.58 In one lengthy report he sent to the British Foreign Office during his short but eventful stay in Istanbul, he opined that Russia was the only power that used individual and personal means to control the Ottoman political arena and was abusing the system of using dragomans.59 Urquhart, like Ziya Bey, believed that almost all Franks (Levantines) and Greeks acting as interpreters between the embassies and the Porte were either paid or indoctrinated by Russia or both.60 Given the anti-Russian character of the Young Ottoman movement, it is not surprising to see that Ziya, in the aftermath of the Cretan insurrection, was expressing very similar ideas on the once Greek-dominated dragoman system61 and he was also linking it to the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire. It is also reasonable to assume that owing to the relations between the Young Ottomans and the Urquhartites Ziya had been cognizant of Urquhart’s war against the dragoman system and was influenced by his convictions that all dragomans, Greek or Levantine, were in the Russian pay.

The story of Samatyalı Gaspar or the abuse of the capitulations Apart from the embassies in the capital, the consuls too, who had become the main actors in the power politics of the Ottoman periphery, received bitter censure from the Young Ottomans. The consuls in the Ottoman Empire were mostly chosen among from the Levantines and their official function was generally inseparable from their business relations with other Franks and with nonMuslims while their knowledge of the qualities, customs and habits of the Ottoman society as well as of the official language was 135

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS notably limited. In most cases the consuls abused the institution of the consulate by using their authority for personal interest as well as by constantly interfering in the affairs of local administration in favour of their coreligionists by the means of capitulatory privileges. With the gradual insertion of the Ottoman Empire into the European inter-state system, the right of foreign ambassadors and consuls to administer commercial affairs and adjudicate legal problems within their subject communities was extended extraterritorially. In effect, a system was created through which envoys of European states enjoyed sovereign rights.62 Consuls provided protection to native Ottoman Christians by selling them passports,63 which rendered them beneficiaries of the capitulations and shielded them against the taxes and courts of the Ottoman Empire. Layard, later the British ambassador in Istanbul, recorded in his memoirs that the consuls were in the habit of selling passports to native Christians and that ‘most of them trafficked in these documents, and lived upon the profits they made out of the sale of protection’.64 This was a potentially explosive situation, destroying the legitimacy of the local state and creating groups of true or assumed national identity, outside the reach of the political authority. Inasmuch as these groups enjoyed privileges and immunities that the local population could not aspire to attain, extraterritoriality created a social chasm of unbridgeable dimension.65 The character and work ethic of the consuls were highly questionable for even some of their own countrymen. Sandwith, the head of the British medical staff during the Crimean War, was one of those who likened the consuls in Turkey to the governor general of India, ‘who could wage war when he pleased’, only that ‘the latter was controlled in some measure by his council, whereas the consul was not’. ‘A distant Ambassador or Minister of Foreign 136

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Affairs, has certainly the power of snubbing him;’ Sandwith opined, ‘the latter can remove him from his post; but he generally has little to fear from either, he can easily throw dust into their eyes, for his only accusers are the Turks, whose word cannot be weighed for a moment against that of an English gentleman.’ Sandwith suggested the British government recall the saying of ‘practice what you preach’. While the British were anxious to reform the Turks, their first effort should be directed to setting the Turks a good example in their own country and to reform the British consular system.66 By and large, the consuls on the Ottoman periphery enjoyed more power over Ottoman political and social life than even their superiors did in the capital. Their intervention in favour of nonMuslims not only offended the Muslims’ sense of fair play but also deepened their dislike of the infidel Europeans, their native protégés as well as the reformist Ottoman statesmen, who, apart from failing to reform the corrupt and extortionate administration, also let the consuls become petty tyrants. As Davison points out, the evils of bad government ‘often bore more heavily on Muslim Turks and Arabs than it did on Christians. Pasha and tax-farmer alike found the piastres they could squeeze from Muslims just as sound as Christian money and did not vary their harshness or their methods with the religion of the victim.’67 But the consuls did vary their protection with the religious identity of the Ottoman subjects and, as they defended non-Muslims, be they right or wrong, Muslims continued to be exposed to ill-treatment. ‘I firmly believed that the Mussulmans in Asia are infinitely worse off than the Christians in Roumelia’, remarked Sandwith. ‘The latter have protection from flagrant wrong when under the notice of the European consuls; but the poor Turks of Asia have no refuge or hope whatever, and can only submit to evils, the causes of which they are unable to comprehend.’68 William Palgrave, himself a consul, echoed the Young Ottomans as he testified in a Foreign Office questionnaire that his colleagues across the sultan’s dominions discriminated in favour of non-Muslims and contributed to the misery of Muslims: 137

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS The Mahometan population is absolutely ‘unrepresented’ at the central, irresponsible, and dissevered Government of Constantinople where the Mahometan subjects of the sultan have really no one to whom they can make known their interests or expose their wrongs. Meanwhile, the Christians have at the capital and throughout the Empire as many Courts of Appeal and redress-demanding representatives as there are Consulates, Agencies, and some times, Embassies, at hand. Indeed, not only are their complaints listened to when made, but even fabricated for them when not made. … For the very reason that the cry of the former is, practically, unheard, the latter have a thousand spokesmen. And open sedition and abominable crimes severely and speedily punished when perpetrated by Mahometans are only half punished, or are even pardoned all together when Christians are the culprits; the hands of justice being for them tied up by Consular or analogous intervention.69 The Young Ottomans too repeatedly complained about the role that the consuls played in the corrupt and chaotic Ottoman provincial government: If a prefect or a governor is not on good terms with one of the consuls in his district, in other words if he antagonizes the consul by protesting his illegal activities, the consul, without even bothering to file an official complaint, writes to the embassy interpreter in Istanbul and asks for the dismissal or the transfer of the prefect or the governor, a demand that the Porte generally does not fail to fulfil. The officials, therefore, tend to secure their posts by collaborating or at least overlooking the destructive conduct of the consuls, which rapidly drifts the country towards catastrophe. Those who decline to sell their soul and dignity lose their job and are compelled to live in misery. Thus, all dignified and honest officials, one after another, have been eliminated from the 138

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY service and replaced by those who unashamedly cooperate with the consuls in demolishing the Ottoman Empire. As a result of this detestable business, the right has been forced to yield to might; and our subjects, Muslim or non-Muslim, who ceased to hope for amelioration took refuge in Iran or in the Principalities or in Austria, and the population in our dominions decreased, agriculture, trade and industry decayed and theft, robbery and plundering reached their peak.70 By means of the foreign passports granted to non-Muslim subjects, numerous Ottoman tradesmen and businessmen became exempt from the usual taxes and duties they previously had to pay by obtaining the designation of foreigner. This not only caused a loss of revenue but also increased the burden on the rest of the population. During the nineteenth century the numbers of foreign passport holders who had originally been Ottoman subjects increased while at the same time ‘the immigrant lumpen population of commercially prominent port cities grew. The protection and immunity that these groups bought from the consuls rendered all attempts at urban reform and control of corruption completely ineffective.’71 Aside from harming the treasury by trading capitulatory privileges, the consuls became merchants themselves and controlled the commercial activities in their area by abusing their official positions. Ziya fortified his claims and complaints by making references to Cyprus, where he had served as prefect. ‘In Cyprus’, he wrote, ‘other than the British and French vice consuls, all employees of the consulates are the chief estate owners and merchants, who solely benefit from the resources of the island.’72 The damage the abuse of the capitulations did to the honour of the state, however, seemed more hurtful and frustrating. The Young Ottomans’ resentment at the humiliation that fell upon the Ottoman state by the defiant and arrogant attitude of non-Muslims under the protection of the foreign powers was personified by an Armenian merchant, Samatyalı Gaspar (Gaspar from Samatya),73 ‘who used to beg the secretaries at the Porte to deal with his 139

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS petition, and who now obtained a foreign passport and became a protégé.’ ‘Today with a hat on his head and with the interpreter of the Russian embassy on his side, Gaspar visits the foreign minister, sits cross-legged, blows the smoke of his cigarette into the face of the Pasha and gets his business settled.’74 The ancient capitulations that had originally been designed to enable the palace to exercise strict control over external economic relations, develop friendly relations with foreign states and induce their merchants to do business in the Ottoman dominions gradually turned sour in the age of mercantilism. Apart from creating an economically privileged class of foreign as well as native nonMuslim Ottoman merchants, who acquired foreign citizenship to the detriment of Muslim merchants, capitulations also led to a duality within the legal system because those who were shielded by them were granted the right to resolve their legal issues by bypassing Ottoman courts and, thanks to consuls who were anxious to exonerate their nationals of whatever crime they might have committed, they were virtually beyond Ottoman jurisdiction. ‘In our judicial system, in regard to foreigners, all kind of abuses have become established practice and all established practices have been regarded as binding as the treaties’ Kemal cried out. ‘Thus in our own country neither can our government summon a foreigner to appear in court nor can our police enforce a court order unless the consul or an embassy dragoman is in his company.’75 The complications caused by the capitulations were a source of continuous pain for the Porte during the Tanzimat. The Nationality Law of 1869 appeared as an attempt to curb the exploitation of the capitulations and stipulated that Ottoman subjects obtain permission from the Porte to change their nationality. The protection from other states processed without the official permit of the Ottoman state would be considered null and void.76 The new law immediately after its promulgation became the target of criticism and ridicule of the Young Ottomans. According to Kemal, the problem was far too complicated to be resolved simply by issuing a law. He somewhat naively believed that once the judicial 140

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY system was reformed radically, no Ottoman subject would need the intervention of the embassies in court cases or seek exemption from trial in Ottoman courts through the protection of foreign powers. Instead of trying to deter its subjects from escaping Ottoman nationality by means of law the state should nourish love for the fatherland and sympathy for its rulers in the heart of its subjects by ameliorating their conditions. ‘As long as the present disorder in the courts,77 the chaos in the legal system, the tyranny in the administration, the capitulatory privileges in the hands of the foreigners and the submissive attitude in the Foreign Ministry remain unchanged’, he concluded, ‘any legal attempt as such will cause nothing but failure and embarrassment on the part of the Ottoman Empire’.78 Kemal was right in asserting that the problem was not to be solved by simply implementing a new legal device. What he failed to see, however, was that the problem of the Great Powers granting protection to non-Muslim Ottoman subjects found its immediate roots in the ethnic and religious overtones that the restructuration of the social division of labour in the Ottoman case attained. As Keyder remarks: in the nineteenth century representative agencies of merchant houses were established in port cities, which in turn engaged non-Muslim Ottomans (some of whom obtained foreign passports) to serve as intermediaries. Not only did European traders prefer to work with Christians, but institutionally as well, they felt that Christians with foreign passports could be brought to court under the consular legal system. The formation of an intermediary class of Christians coincided with the cultural mission of the Western world which was heavily tainted by a romanticized crusader perspective, professing as its object the liberation of Christian populations under the yoke. Their co-optation by European business constituted a total project designed to solve the Ottoman problem.79 141

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Should they or should they not? The debate on the foreigners’ right to possess landed property in the Ottoman Empire Owing to the very existence of the capitulations as well as their abuse in practice, the right of foreigners to own land in the Ottoman Empire was a major controversy in the second half of the nineteenth century.80 Although the Islahat Fermanı mentioned that ‘it shall be lawful for foreigners to possess landed property in the sultan’s dominions, conforming themselves to the laws and police regulations, and bearing the same charges as the native inhabitants – that is to say, without applying the capitulations – and after arrangements have been come to with foreign powers’, this clause, like the one regarding the conscription of non-Muslims in the military, had remained an unfulfilled promise because the execution of this pledge was intended in the long run to open the agricultural sector, ‘which was the only sector of the economy still dominated by Muslims, to foreign enterprise and risk destroying this dominance’81 and in the short term it would mean weakening the Porte’s hand in fighting the Great Powers in order to restrict their capitulatory privileges. The Great Powers, however, especially France, pressed the Porte to give effect to that right and French Ambassador Bourrée constantly raised the matter with Ottoman ministers. Great Britain, on the other hand, had reservations about the stipulation in the Islahat Fermanı that foreigners should only be allowed to hold landed property after conforming to the laws and police regulations in the Ottoman Empire. Although its agents in Istanbul repeatedly argued that it was extremely difficult to refute the Porte’s justification for resorting to that measure, the British Foreign Office insisted to the last that the Porte grant that right without such restrictions. At the end of 1859, three years after the promulgation of the Islahat Fermanı, Ambassador Bulwer presented a memorandum to the Foreign Office in which he sounded convinced that the Turks were right in their course of action not only on the grounds of sovereignty rights but also for practical reasons that might have caused complications. ‘It cannot be expected, indeed’, he wrote: 142

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY that the Turks should be willing to favour the introduction of foreigners into their country when foreigners are not subjected to their laws, nor that foreigners should be easily allowed to hold property in Turkey when they are to be exempted from the action of the native police, and when property is to be held by them, if held at all, under the protection of foreign authorities, and administered by foreign laws.82 Unlike Great Britain, which was not yet ready to make any concessions on the capitulations, and therefore resolved to put the issue aside for the time being,83 France was prepared to lose some capitulatory privileges in order to conquer the mostly untouched Turkish market by French capital, and Bourrée, the French ambassador, pressed vigorously on the Porte to grant the right as promised in the Islahat Fermanı. In April 1867, the British ambassador, Lyons, reported to the Foreign Office that Fuad Paşa had for some time been in confidential communication with him and with Bourrée about the proposed law to enable foreigners to hold real property in the Ottoman Empire. He noted that both ambassadors had especially objected to clauses in the original project that made foreigners ‘personally liable to the jurisdiction of local tribunals in certain cases, without the presence and concurrence of their consuls’. Lyons and his French counterpart then suggested that the Porte remove all such clauses, which they believed were trifling and had no necessary connection with the question from the protocol. ‘Fuad Paşa maintained, however, tenaciously that they were absolutely essential.’84 The British government agreed with Lyons about the ‘inexpedience of sanctioning any of the provisions proposed in the protocol which derogated from the capitulations.’ ‘Those capitulations interpreted by custom, have for a long period formed the basis of the privileges of Christian subjects in Turkey’, remarked Stanley, ‘and the modifications proposed by the protocol of the existing 143

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS rights of foreigners in reference to the exercise of jurisdiction over them by Turkish authorities, though apparently trifling, are likely to lead to embarrassment.’ Therefore, he instructed Lyons to maintain his objections to those clauses. 85 At the beginning of May the Muhbir informed its readers about gossip that the Porte, apparently on the advice of France, was planning to permit foreigners to own urban and rural property as part of a new reform package.86 In the days that followed the Muhbir published extracts from the French official newspaper, Le Moniteur Universel, announcing that the Ottoman government had been very seriously contemplating the issue.87 The Porte was indeed ready and even anxious to proclaim the firman before the sultan left for Paris. Besides, the French ambassador, whom M. de Moustier had instructed to come to an understanding with the Porte, had ceased to insist on amendments proposed by him and Lyons. The Porte, aware that France was hankering after the promulgation of the firman as soon as possible and would sign the protocol in its existent form, did not feel compelled to pamper Great Britain and declared the firman on 18 June 1867,88 a week before the sultan’s departure for Europe. In fact, the correspondence of the date of the firman with that of the sultan’s visit to Europe seemed more than a coincidence.89 The Porte indeed had planned to increase sympathy for the empire in European quarters on the eve of the visit through this gesture or concession, for he wanted to carry out negotiations on the Cretan crisis as well as arrange for a new loan in a more conducive atmosphere during the sultan’s stay in Paris and London. The firman seems to have had the expected effect, at least in business circles, because the two most influential newspapers in the European financial world, namely La Presse and The Times, applauded the Porte’s decision with extraordinary praise. The former deemed the new law ‘the most promising and fruitful reform measure taken within the last twenty five years’, while the latter presented it as ‘the bravest commitment a Muslim Sultan has ever made in world history’.90 A week after the promulgation of the 144

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY firman Lyons opined in his dispatch to the Foreign Office that the promulgation of the law was a very important step ‘in the right direction’, and he ‘deemed it to be advisable not to arrest it, by entering into a minute discussion of the Protocol’. He also recognized that ‘even the most enlightened Turks have a great reluctance to see the lands of the Empire in the possession of foreigners, who are withdrawn in great measure from the jurisdiction and control of the Ottoman authorities’. Lyons concluded that ‘it would be well if France and England acted together in the matter and France would perhaps be more ready to agree to the present protocol than England would be.’91 The British government, however, refusing to compromise, clung to its resolution and instructed Elliot, who succeeded Lyons in Istanbul, to follow the course pursued by his predecessor.92 But Elliot found it hard both to effect even ‘the slightest change in their [the Ottoman ministers’] disposition with respect to the protocol’ and to argue with their reasoning. ‘I must confess to your Lordship’, he wrote, ‘that the arguments brought forward by the Turkish government in favour of the necessity of some new rules to apply to a totally new state of things appear to me so strong that I am at a loss to refute them satisfactorily.’ He also pointed out that the French ambassador was ‘entirely in favour of accepting the Protocol as it stands’.93 Meanwhile, Moustier was at pains to persuade the British to act in concert with France and sign the protocol. He said to Lyons, now in Paris, that ‘it would serve as a great encouragement to the introduction of foreign capital into Turkey’ to the construction of railroads, and to the progress of agriculture, commerce and manufactures. He need hardly point out that such undertakings would be in the hands of ‘Frenchmen, Englishmen and subjects of other governments friendly to Turkey.’94 But there was no discernible change in the British attitude before the French, having lost faith in a possible concerted action, signed the protocol on 16 July 1868.95 Then the British government gave in and followed the French by signing the protocol on 28 July 1868.96 Austria signed 145

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the protocol on 5 January 1869, nearly six months after Great Britain and France.97 Although Great Britain had vigorously struggled against the Porte’s intention to grant the right of property without capitulatory privileges, which in the end seemed to have been realized in the clause stating that foreigners could only hold land on the same basis as local subjects, the Protocol did not cause any de facto loss to European signatories with respect to capitulations. The sentence in the Protocol, ‘ne porte aucune atteinte aux immunities consacrées par les traités et qui continueront à courier la personne et les biens meublés des étrangers devenues proprietaires d’immeubles’ offset the above clause and the Porte’s de jure triumph to disassociate the right of property from the capitulations proved abortive in practice. In other words, once it was established that the domicile of foreign land-owners was to remain inviolable and could only be entered by the police with the express permission of the relevant consulate it was impossible to enforce the laws relating to land or the judgments of local courts against European proprietors in the face of consular opposition.98 The Young Ottomans were extremely agitated by the firman. According to Kemal, the concession giving foreigners the right to possess land in the empire meant that ‘the Ottomans who had been already forced to leave control of trade and industry to foreigners and live in worn-out sheds like beggars, now would be kicked out of those sheds and compelled to emigrate to Anatolia.’ ‘When the Porte declared the infamous firman’, Kemal complained bitterly, ‘the bell was rung for Muslim inhabitants to evacuate Istanbul.’99 The fear that Europeans would drive Muslims out of Istanbul had been rooted deep in the collective Muslim Ottoman mind since the heyday of the empire came to an end in the late eighteenth century. With territorial losses in European Turkey and the general decline of the empire against the Great Powers throughout the next century, the Muslims’ fears not only proved more than justified but 146

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY were also reinforced. The conviction of the Muslim population in Istanbul that the time was approaching for an inevitable flight to Anatolia or, at best, to the Asian shore of the capital, can be discerned in British travel literature in the nineteenth century. The travellers almost invariably commented on the symbolic importance of the graveyard in Üsküdar (Skutari), a neighbourhood in the Asian part of Istanbul, which was overwhelmingly populated by Muslim Turks, and shared the well-known rumour with readers that even Muslims residing in the European part bought graves in Üsküdar to ensure that when the European part fell into the hands of non-Muslim foreigners, their souls would not be disturbed under the reign of the infidel. While conversing with the British economist-traveller Senior in 1858, ‘a Frenchman residing in Istanbul’ revealed the expectations of some foreigners from the concession of the right to possess landed property, which suggests that the Muslims’ fear was not entirely groundless. Force them (the Turks) to give effect to the clause in the Hatt-i Humayoon which permits foreigners to buy land, force them to allow foreign companies to make the roads which they will not make themselves. Turkey, once opened to European enterprise, industry and capital, will be a new America, with a better climate and a better soil. AngloSaxons and Germans will soon drive these savages off the face of the country. They hold it only by frightening, plundering and oppressing the civilized races. Even the Greeks and the slaves, armed with equality of rights, would drive them out.100 The outcry from European anti-Turkish quarters to drive the Turks away from Europe, including Istanbul, which the ‘Turks had possessed without any right’, became louder towards the end of the century. When the Ottoman Empire seemed on the brink of financial bankruptcy, a British writer, Lewis Farley, sarcastically 147

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS suggested that the sultan sell his property in Europe, which was ‘not the slightest use to him and of which possession only induced expenses he could not afford’. ‘Today, he could retire with honour and credit, as there are purchasers ready to pay a price that would probably enable him to pay his debts’, he argued, ‘[and] in Asia the Osmanli would become a great and useful power, the sultan would be at home on his ancestral soil, amidst his own people, and his own coreligionists.’101 A year later, former British Liberal Prime Minister Gladstone, without caring for any sarcasm, straightforwardly suggested sending the ‘unspeakable Turks’, ‘bag and baggage’, from Europe to where they came from, namely Asia.102 The belief that the days of Muslims in Istanbul were numbered and that they would be forced to return to the empire’s first capital, Bursa, gained strength among Muslim Turks with each new political and economic crisis the empire faced. The account in Senior’s book of a Muslim character he interviewed in Istanbul seems to summarize the Muslim public’s state of mind in the aftermath of the Crimean War and the Islahat Fermanı: The Turks believe that if the Hatt-i Humayoon were honestly carried out, the Turks would be driven across Bosporus in five years. They are resolved; therefore, that it shall be a dead letter. In some provinces, the reading of it produced riots, in others it was not attempted to be read. But in fact it cannot be a dead letter. It alarms and irritates the Turks; it stimulates the hopes and also the hatred of the Greeks. … Still the empire, if left to itself, might cohere for many years. But Europe has her eyes on our western provinces. One by one, or two by two, they will be cut off, or will drop off. Perhaps we may return to Broussa [sic], and keep Anatolia for a century or two longer.103 Kemal voiced this common Muslim fear in his articles and argued that the new firman, along with other privileges granted to foreigners, would merely facilitate that process. Although he 148

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY believed in principle that granting foreigners the right to possess land would contribute to the economic development of a country, Kemal was convinced that under the circumstances such a measure would only cause damage to the Ottoman Empire: Today when an Englishman buys immovable estate in France, he pays tax to the French government for his property, and in the event of a legal dispute he applies to the French courts, if he cultivates agricultural product he employs French workers and also pays tax out of the value of the produce to the French government. In short this measure does not damage the country’s economy or weaken the sovereignty, on the contrary, it by all means contributes to the general welfare. … Whereas in our Empire there is no such thing as national economy, foreign products have already flooded our markets, native Ottoman merchants have become unable to compete against foreign merchants, who, thanks to the capitulations, are exempted from a series of taxes and duties. Additionally, the cheaper but low quality mass production of European factories outrivaled our handicrafts, and almost all sectors have come to bankruptcy. Foreigners have invaded our economy and made our subjects redundant and pauper, today there is no work left for Muslims other than trading wood and coal for domestic heating or becoming a state employee and living a parasitical life.104 According to Kemal’s reasoning, once foreigners obtained permission to own property in the Ottoman dominions, the poor Muslims, especially those who lived in Istanbul without any productive means, would start selling their property to foreigners in order to survive, and gradually the greater part of the land would pass into foreign hands. How can we expect Muslims to consider the result of their 149

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS actions in the long term while they desperately need money in [the] short term? How can a man, while he and his family starve and a foreigner offers to purchase his house, display prudence and infer that if he sells his property to the foreigners his coreligionists will be driven out of Istanbul? As Kemal continued: In short, sooner or later we will have to head for Bursa by leaving our lands and houses to the foreigners. This will be the possible result of the new firman by which the Porte granted the right of property to foreigners before the conditions were ripe and signed the death warrant of its own people in order to please Europeans. He concluded in typical melodramatic style: Then in the houses of Hacı Ahmet Efendi and Hasan Ağa will reside M. Lorraine and M. Morton, and Istanbul will become Paris or London of the East with large and illuminated streets, chic cafés and high concrete buildings, and when Muslims come to Istanbul from Anatolia, by holding the hand of their barefoot children to sell coal, they will weep that that paradise-like city had once belonged to them, but they lost it because of a bunch of greedy, incompetent and traitorous ministers.105

Who is to blame? The thief or the imprudent landlord? The Young Ottomans saw the Porte as the party chiefly responsible for foreign intervention in the Ottoman Empire. Although they admitted that the Europeans wasted no opportunity to meddle in the internal affairs of the empire, they loudly blamed the Porte for providing these Europeans with opportunities – sometimes of their own accord, sometimes by too easily yielding to their pressure and in any case by sacrificing the long-term interests of the country to 150

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY their own short-term personal and political interests. As Kemal asked: Is it Prussia who looted our treasury and brought the Ottoman economy to bankruptcy? Is it France who prevented us from establishing modern schools and educating our youth? Is it Russia who promulgates the firmans and enforces our laws? No, it is the Porte that is solely responsible for every abuse and evil practice that is carried out in our country and for each disaster that falls upon our peoples. According to Kemal, however weak and poor a state was, it could not be treated against the principles of international law unless it was incapable of defending its own rights or reluctant to put an end to the wrongdoings that prompted the intervention. Besides, in his confidence in Europe’s traditional alliance with the Ottoman Empire against Russia, he added that the dissolution of the empire was incompatible with Europe’s interests and that Europe’s interventions always aimed to resolve the crises caused by the Porte’s incompetence and to avert Russia from exercising power over Turkey by using the grievances of non-Muslims as a pretext. Kemal thus blamed the Porte’s inability to handle delicate matters skilfully for prompting Europeans to intervene in the internal affairs of the Ottoman Empire. In commenting on one of Lord Stanley’s speeches in parliament, in which he analysed the dire financial straits of the Ottoman Empire and concluded that the principle of non-intervention unfortunately prevented Her Majesty’s Government from dictating the necessary economic measures to the Ottoman authorities, Kemal argued that ‘even if Lord Stanley offered help to reform the Ottoman economy, the Porte would reject it.’ ‘I am aware that this assertion of mine seems incredible to our readers in the light of our long and bitter experience with foreign intervention’, he wrote, ‘but I insist that the intervention issue has a different dimension, which 151

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the Porte tactfully conceals from us’. The Porte behaved ‘like a timid rabbit’ when the empire’s rights and interests were at stake but it turned into ‘a lion’ when it came to the personal interests of the ministers. Whenever the Europeans came up with a suggestion that would contribute to the country’s welfare but would harm the ministers’ political and private interests, the Porte invariably rejected it and ‘did its best to discredit the project in the eyes of the sultan as well as of the public’.106 The typical attitude of these two Young Ottomans, Kemal and Ziya, to cast usul-ü meşveret as a panacea for all the Ottoman Empire’s problems found expression once more in Kemal’s discussion of the question of foreign intervention in general and of the capitulations in particular. Also, the characteristic naïveté of Kemal in trusting in the humanitarian and civilized disposition of Europe was repeatedly expressed throughout his analyses. He, in fact, never lost his belief in the goodwill of the European states, which, he believed, were ready to compromise as long as the Porte reformed its administrative and judicial system.107 Kemal’s optimism about the willingness of Europeans to relinquish their capitulatory rights in order to contribute to the civilizing process of the Ottoman Empire was to be shared, though very briefly, by the Young Turks and the İttihat ve Terakki Cemiyeti (Committee of Union and Progress) decades later. When the Unionists, ‘who came from too low a social stratum to have had any experience of high diplomacy’, raised the question of the abolition of capitulations with the expectation of a helping hand from Europe, they ‘were taken aback by the cynicism of the Great Powers and seemed to receive nothing but kicks’.108 They sadly realized that the Europeans were extremely tenacious of their fiscal as well as judicial privileges and had no sympathy for the revolutionary designs of the Ottomans to alter the economic and social structure of the empire by freeing it from restrictive capitulations. The naïve confidence of both the Young Ottomans and the Young Turks in a determined and patriotic Ottoman government 152

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY possibly attaining the abolition of the capitulations partly derived from the fact that the Ottomans saw the capitulations as unilateral privileges that the sultans granted and therefore were capable of withdrawing unilaterally. While the Young Ottomans and their grandsons were aware of the imbalance in relations between the empire and Europe and of the seriousness of antagonizing the Great Powers, they still optimistically clung to the rhetoric that it was theoretically the Ottoman Empire’s indisputable right to withdraw those privileges given unilaterally as an independent state and ‘an equal member of the Concert of Europe’, and that the European governments that guaranteed the empire’s independence and integrity should no doubt concur in this resolution. ‘The capitulations were temporarily extended as a favour by our sultans in ancient times to attract foreign merchants and became permanent with time’, Kemal wrote. ‘However, they are by no means treaties that we have to comply with, and since they do our economy and social peace irreparable harm and they have no place in the law of nations, the Ottoman government must have the right to alter them.’109 He believed that the Porte would have no difficulty in mustering the cooperation of the Europeans in that matter once the usul-ü meşveret was introduced and the legal system was reorganized. This, he wrote optimistically, was ‘because they are neither too cruel to maintain their interventionist and exploitative policy towards a “civilized state”, nor … too ignorant to believe that the forbearance of the Ottomans is limitless’.110 THE LIMITS OF THE OTTOMANS’ FORBEARANCE AND A DEBATE ON THE REMEDY: USUL-Ü MEŞVERET OR CİVİL DİSOBEDİENCE?

The Young Ottomans frequently resorted to the argument that the discourse about the proverbial forbearance of Muslim Ottomans was rapidly giving way to frustration and soon would be replaced by a fierce outburst over the injustice the reform edicts and constant foreign intervention brought about. They repeatedly drew attention to the unrest among Muslims as well as to their increasing antipathy towards the government, and explicitly warned the Porte 153

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS about a possible Muslim revolt. This attitude can be found in a crystallized form in Ziya’s illuminating article ‘Mes’ele-yi Müsavat’ [The Question of Equality], in which he discusses the de facto unequal position of Muslims vis-à-vis non-Muslims, whom the embassies and consulates fostered and protected as protégés: The Muslim millet has put up with injustice, interference and betrayal so far with extreme patience, but the day has been approaching when they will revolt against this humiliation. It was the Muslim millet who shed their blood to conquer this country, it is the Muslim Ottomans who have been defending the sultanate and keeping Islam in the throne of the Empire, and it is again the Muslims who have been enduring all kind of degradation, insult and misery for the sake of their nonMuslim countrymen’s happiness and welfare although they are the majority and also superior in all respects.111 Among the small group of Young Ottomans, Suavi perceived both the possibility and potential for a Muslim revolt from a different angle. Unlike Kemal and Ziya, he considered the Muslim outburst not a danger but a useful instrument to put an end to the systematic attacks on Islam and Muslims that were carried out by the Great Powers and their agents, including native non-Muslim Ottomans and the Porte itself. In other words, while Kemal and Ziya referred to a possible Muslim outbreak112 – without any intention of promoting it – to stress the threat that the widening gap between Muslim and non-Muslim conditions posed, Suavi approached it as a form of civil disobedience, which he believed that Islamic theology justified and indeed demanded. For Suavi, as the representative of the little tradition among the Ottoman intelligentsia, traditional power relations between the ruling elite and lower class masses in the empire always included the option of revolt for the latter to express and restore the values of the little culture at times of extreme stress and disorganization.113 In general: 154

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Ali Suavi’s ideas converged at three points which were: first, his desire to infuse a new energy into the veins of the Ottomans and his own readiness to take drastic measures so as to elicit the recovery of the Ottoman Empire; secondly, his self-identification with the underprivileged; and thirdly, his willingness to resist constituted authority.114 He based his theory about the right of civil disobedience on a series of ancient Islamic traditions, Quranic verses and arguments of medieval jurists and came to the conclusion that it was incumbent upon the believers, especially the ulema, to protest against the oppression and to take the matter in their own hands to remove the grievances. This theory led Suavi, in a letter to the Hürriyet in 1869, to go so far as to suggest Âli Paşa’s assassination.115 Suavi’s letter was in fact a criticism of the financial state of the Ottoman Empire in the year 1286 (1869–70). After a lengthy analysis of the annual budget, with emphasis on the enormous deficit, he concluded that ‘the unwise financial policies of the Porte caused the ruin of the Ottoman economy, and that Âli Paşa, as grand vizier as well as the political figure chiefly responsible for shaping and guiding policy for decades, had caused the eventual financial disaster’: The non-Muslim powers believe that this oppression, corruption and misery are the result of inherent deficiencies in Islam. However, Islam neither enjoins nor allows oppression and the most reputable jurists, such as Müçteba, Nehr-i Faiki and Temurtaş, sanction tyrannicide. In other words the murder of the oppressor and his assistants is ‘helal’ in Islam, and Âli Paşa is the oppressor of our day. We have no doubt about the religious faithfulness of our sultan but he has to open his eyes to the detestable commitments of his infidel minister. We also expect the public to wake up and take a stand. 155

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Ziya, as the editor of the Hürriyet, was arrested after the Porte made an official complaint to the British authorities and had to flee to Geneva.116 In accordance with his civil disobedience thesis, in 1878 Suavi initiated the Çırağan incident, which cost him his life. Both Kemal and Ziya, by contrast, carefully refrained either from enunciating a theory of revolt or from engaging in revolt itself because, unlike Suavi, they were members of the great tradition and a subgroup of the ruling elite and, although they rather freely used the threat of a possible Muslim revolt as an instrument in their struggling against the Porte they knew only too well that the instigators and actors of such possible revolt would place them next to Âli and Fuad Paşas. What is more, they were intellectuals who had once been bureaucrats, and their background and professional training in the Translation Bureau, which brought them into contact with the Western world, had a notable impact on their perception of the state. They were ‘temporary idealist opponents’ who remained civil servants at heart and, though they were excluded from the spoils of the Tanzimat and remained in low-rank executive posts, which embittered them towards the state, they were nevertheless willing to continue rendering service in a somewhat modernized version of the same state, albeit, they hoped, in higher ranks. Suavi, however, being of more humble origins, considered himself to be a member of the ulema. The philosophical justification for the popular rebellions in the Ottoman Empire was always based on the idea that: there existed socio-economic arrangements in Ottoman society which provided a protective shield over Ottoman subjects, and which had to be respected. … This view of society contained the idea of a tacit contract of the sultan with his subjects, a contract which he was obliged to observe if he was to keep his throne.117 Basic to this view was the notion taken from a Quranic verse that 156

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY the entire community was entrusted with ordering good and prohibiting evil. ‘“Evil” is defined as not observing the norms set by Islam but, since the Islamic community was by definition also a political community, the principle of “pursuit” of the good was valid in the political sphere as well.’118 In this context, during the popular insurrections the rebels claimed the right to combat evil on behalf of the community and restore good, a duty that their rulers had failed to carry out. Until their destruction in 1826, the Janissaries functioned as the intermediary power between the people and the ruler, but after that date ‘popular rebellion had no basis of power left with which to promote its demands’.119 Before long, however, the ulema took over the role of the Janissaries and the so-called Kuleli event of 1859 took place under the leadership of a doctor of Islamic law who believed that ‘the traditional Ottoman liberties had been infringed by the Westernizers who had initiated the Tanzimat reforms.’120 In the broadest sense, Suavi’s way of looking at society and Islam differed considerably from that of Kemal and Ziya. Although he did publish articles that at first glance gave the impression that he shared his comrades’ ideals for parliamentary government, in fact his understanding of democracy did not go further than a simple mechanism of consultation, and ‘he was shocked to find that in Europe butchers were given the vote.’121 It is true that Suavi, like his two companions, believed that the Şer’iat provided both the philosophical foundation and the functional institutions to endow the Ottoman Empire with the qualities of a ‘modern’ state, but, while Kemal and Ziya approached the Şer’iat as an instrument, so to speak, to back up their project for a moderate parliamentary monarchy along Western lines or as a serviceable asset to reach a synthesis between Eastern and Western values and institutions at best, Suavi considered the Şer’iat the only true political model and thereby proposed to put it into effect in its ancient and orthodox, or unspoiled, form. Since he believed the Şer’iat had a satisfactory answer to all questions that might possibly occur under the sun, all that the Ottomans needed to revive their empire was to rediscover 157

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS the original teachings of Islam and cling to them. In this sense, his attempt to structure a theory of disobedience on the basis of Islamic precepts, which also overlapped with the idea of a tacit contract as well as with the newfound function of the ulema to lead popular rebellions, appears as a natural result of his yearning for a return to the golden age in which the Şer’iat structured and wellnigh fully controlled socio-economic and political life without challenge. In short, for Suavi, a Muslim outbreak against the injustices caused by foreign intervention and the so-called reforms would be the expression of the people’s demand to restore the tacit contract that had long been broken, and this would be the first step towards reforming the empire in an Islamic mould. Suavi’s arguments about the Şer’iat’s position on and role in the empire’s salvation were to a large extent in harmony with Urquhart’s thoughts. Nonetheless, it would be unreasonable to argue that Suavi formulated his pro-Şer’iat arguments under the influence of Urquhart’s publications. Suavi as a social mobilizer whose mind was informed and shaped by the values of the little tradition did not need the teachings of Urquhartites to discover the merits of Şer’iat and nurse a favour for it. His encounter with the British dissidents, however, reassured Suavi that the Şer’iat maintained its symbolic power as a politically and socially workable system and could be reintroduced not only as an alternative but also as a challenge to the discursively hegemonic modern Western (parliamentary) political systems. Each time a Christian uprising broke out in the Ottoman Empire in which the foreign powers were invariably involved, either as supporters and/or mediators, Urquhart would warn the Europeans that the day was approaching when the Muslims of Turkey would burst with frustration and take up arms against their government. He must have sensed the little tradition’s frustration. Both the annulment of the tacit contract and the ongoing modernization, or Westernization, compromised the interests of this group because the reforms being introduced favoured non-Muslims, which had a destructive effect on ancient patterns of redistribution and social 158

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY exchange. He must also have been aware of the uprising in Ottoman history when the Muslim lower classes took up arms when their interests, supposedly under the protection of the hisba and tacit contract, suffered. For Urquhart, the ulema were the only group with enough symbolic power to mobilize the little tradition masses to defend their core traditional communitarian Islamic Turkish values. Each time the news or rumour of an unsuccessful conspiracy against the Porte that contained a connection to the ulema reached London, Urquhart felt assured of his predictions. When the longawaited Muslim outbreak he hoped would restore the ‘tacit contract’ failed to materialize spontaneously Urquhart set about encouraging it in the last years of his life. This attitude can be detected in his open support for the softa demonstrations that emerged as a reaction to the Bosnian and Bulgarian revolts during the eventful year of 1876. The Bulgarian revolt gave a new impetus to the anti-Turkish agitation in Great Britain, and Urquhart’s Diplomatic Review embarked on counter-propaganda to which Ali Suavi contributed with his lengthy letters.122 In spring 1876, Muslim frustration reached its peak, and the softas along with theology students spilled into the streets to voice the opposition of the Muslim public to the government, which they blamed for letting the Christians in Bosnia and Bulgaria massacre the Muslims there. They also emphasized that it was the religious duty of every Muslim to protest against the statesmen who treated Muslims as secondclass citizens and failed to protect them against the attacks of the ‘infidel’ and they called all Muslims to join in their initiation of disobedience. On 10 May, mass meetings took place in front of the office of the şeyhulislam as well as in front of the Porte to demand the resignation of şeyhulislam Hasan Fehmi and grand vizier Mahmud Nedim Paşa. The next day Sultan Abdülaziz, after receiving the delegation of protestors, resolved to appease the softas and granted all their demands.123 This cooled the initial outburst, but sporadic student demonstrations continued for the time being. Urquhart saw that 159

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS this historic opportunity, in which he had invested all his hopes to end ‘the shameful era of imitation and submission’, was about to be lost. He, then, desperately sought to boost support for the demonstrations in Istanbul and looked to the Turks in Europe for help. ‘I write to you at present to invite you to aid the softas of Constantinople’, he wrote in an address (which he signed as Daoud, the Turkish version of his name): in order to complete their victory by making your relations and friends understand that in Europe the ambassadors of one country do not intermeddle with the nominations of the Ministers of another, and that they do not address notes to the latter requiring this or that change in its laws or administration; and, especially, that the Turkish Ambassador, whether at London, Paris, Vienna or Berlin, does none of those things which the Ambassadors of these countries do at Constantinople.124 Much to Urquhart’s and Suavi’s disappointment, the chaotic atmosphere in Istanbul led not to an Islamic revolution but rather to the most radical Westernization attempt up to that time, the introduction of the first Ottoman parliament. Just before his death, Urquhart wrote his last letter to the new sultan, Abdülhamid II, and begged him to entrust the government to true Muslims. ‘In all the former perils I have kept a firm confidence in the strength of the Ottoman Empire and I have been the only one to have this conviction’, he wrote: But today I see the immediate and complete consummation of its ruin. This danger, however, exists not in circumstances but in men. There are some real Turks in Turkey but those who govern the Empire are no longer Turks. Corrupted by contact with the Europeans they have lost their character that makes the strength of nation. They have placed the conduct of their affairs in the hands of foreigners – these 160

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY foreigners who are today gathered to beat the Empire to death.125 In fact, the convictions of Urquhart and his followers about foreign intervention and the privileges that were granted to nonMuslims in the name of reform differed little from those of Kemal and Ziya, who, unlike Suavi, never developed a close relationship with the Urquhartite movement. So similar was Urquhart’s assessment of the Islahat Fermanı and the intervention of the embassies that his and his disciples’ articles could have easily been attributed to Kemal or Ziya if they had appeared in the Muhbir or Hürriyet without signature. Like those two Young Ottomans, Urquhart criticized the Porte for consenting to insert the Islahat Fermanı into the Paris Treaty and correctly pointed out that Article IX provided ‘a loophole which allowed the likes of Gladstone and Count Andrássy to interpret it as a laissez-passer for interference’.126 He devoted a considerable part of his work to urging the Turks to show bravery and decisiveness in resisting the pressure from without and, very much like Kemal and Ziya, was convinced that European intervention under the pretext of reform deepened the existing fragmentation in the Ottoman society by privileging nonMuslims at the expense of Muslims and damaged any prospect of social cohesion, a sine qua non for the survival of a multinational empire.127 The main argument upon which Urquhart’s movement had been based was that, in urging so-called reforms to ameliorate the conditions of Christians, the Great Powers were motivated to further their imperialistic ambitions in the Near East. Like the Young Ottomans, Urquhart constantly drew attention to the relatively worse position of Muslims who were deprived of the protection and support given to non-Muslims by the European embassies. ‘For the belief that the Christian population, as such, is oppressed by the Mussulman government and populations, there is no real ground,’ he wrote; ‘it is disseminated for hostile, insidious, and disguised purposes. It is not merely that there are no grounds 161

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS for this belief, but that the contrary is the truth.’128 As a staunch believer in the principle of non-intervention in international affairs, Urquhart protested by every means against the incessant interference to which the Ottoman Empire had been exposed and set out to reveal the hypocrisy and double standard of the European governments, particularly that of his own government, with respect to the demands for reform imposed upon the Porte. In criticizing the Islahat Fermanı he pointed out that the British government forced the Turkish government to perform a task that no European government, least of all England, dared undertake at home: If the Porte consulted the Dissenting gentlemen in England before it agreed on that firman they would have explained that no foreigner was allowed to possess land in England, that England, like Turkey, punished blasphemy, that Roman Catholics were still ineligible for certain offices, and that till about forty years ago disabilities also affected Protestant Dissenters, that still later it had been impossible for Dissenters and Roman Catholics to contract marriage, except by submitting the forms of the established clergy; and that considerations of religious belief still determined the admissibility of evidence in British Courts of Law.129 All in all, Urquhart’s view of the question of intervention, including issues like the capitulations and reforms, was very similar, if not entirely identical, to that of the Young Ottomans.130 This striking similarity in the identification of the problem did not, however, extend to its resolution. This was, indeed, the main thing that distanced Kemal and Ziya from the Urquhartite movement. Although there is evidence to suggest that all the members of the small group comprising the Young Ottomans came into contact with Urquhartites, only Suavi truly joined or was admitted into their circles. This was largely because the idea of establishing a parliamentary system in the Ottoman Empire, which Kemal and Ziya 162

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY struggled to realize throughout their political careers, was unacceptable to the Urquhartite cause. Urquhart was a loyal and romantic monarchist who would have preferred an advisory council (such as a Privy Council) that gave constant counselling to the monarch rather than a British parliament, where he believed the interests of certain ‘clubs’ were deemed superior to the general welfare of the country. He was convinced that in its existing form the parliament had become dysfunctional and had not only ceased to operate as an intermediary between the monarch and his subjects but also made it impossible for him, the only individual who would not sacrifice the higher interests of the country to party politics, to take control of the decision-making process.131 Urquhart’s own experience with King William IV and with the Liberal prime minister Lord Palmerston in the early 1830s assured him that the only guarantee for good government was a potent and wellinformed monarch whose hands were not tied by an institution like a parliament, which ‘harboured all kind of traitorous activities’. In this sense it is not surprising to see that Urquhart admired the ancient form of the Ottoman governmental system and disliked any kind of suggestion to modify it in the mould of a Western parliamentary system. Accordingly, he regarded the Young Ottomans’ (Ziya’s and Kemal’s) demand for a parliament as an extreme dimension of ‘the disease of aping Europeans’ and firmly rejected it. Urquhart’s reaction to the modernization of the Ottoman Empire cannot be explained only with reference to his ‘sentimental exoticism’.132 He, unlike Kemal and Ziya, did not see the Westernstyle parliament as a neutral or culturally value free institution that could be adopted and used by a non-Western society. Urquhart, who was familiar with Eastern socio-economic and political institutions, was aware that the new principles and institutions imported from Europe and planted in Ottoman soil during the Tanzimat era, were mostly incompatible with the foundations of the Ottoman state and that their introduction could only mean a complete upheaval of the old institutions, not to mention ‘the 163

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS introduction of turmoil, agitation and disruption into the Empire; and their success would mean its total destruction’.133 In fact, Kemal and Ziya too, in line with their ‘anti-Bihruz Bey’134 stand, as well as their discourse on ‘selective borrowing’ and ‘synthesis between the Eastern and Western worlds’, would have agreed with Urquhart on the danger posed by the indiscriminate adoption of a European way of life, along with its laws, regulations and institutions. These had evolved from the inner dynamics of European socio-economic and cultural structures and corresponded to the needs of those particular societies. Unlike Urquhart, however, they were more selective in their approach to European institutions, although in their private life they were no less attracted to European tastes and manners than the Tanzimat grandees or even Bihruz Bey types they so scathingly criticized. While Urquhart viewed almost any kind of politico-cultural leakage from Europe into the Ottoman Empire with utmost suspicion, Kemal and Ziya, in their instrumental attempt to appeal to the little tradition, carefully avoided wholesale repudiation of Western institutions and, like their Japanese counterparts in the Meiji period, tried to distinguish between the ‘harmful’, ‘useful’ and, most importantly, ‘universal’ ones. The institution of parliament, in their eyes, belonged in the last category because not only did it have, or so they believed, roots and legitimacy in Islam in the form of meşveret (consultation) but it also seemed fit to work as an instrument through which the creation of a united Ottoman nation could be achieved. Suavi’s perception of democracy disassociated him from his two other comrades. While ‘Namık Kemal [and Ziya Bey] believed in a modified form of universal suffrage and in chambers filled with representatives, Suavi’s picture of democracy was that of the sultan sitting under an oak tree and receiving petitions from his subjects.’135 More correctly, Suavi truly believed in the Şer’iat and, rather than consider it a serviceable stepping stone to the introduction of Western-like institutions and modernity through a liberal interpretation, he regarded the Şer’iat in its pure form as the 164

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY most ‘modern’ constitution and governmental system. While the former tried to interpret Islam through the lenses of the modern era, Suavi tended to see the century through the lens of Islam. ‘As long as the precepts of Islam are in power’, Suavi remarked, ‘we already have a constitution which is guarded against all kind of external interference and is free from internal decay. Those who wish to establish a new constitution in the country want to replace an everlasting constitution with a man-made and easily corruptible one.’136 Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey in their efforts to prove that modern Western institutions such as the constitution and parliament did exist in Islamic political philosophy in some peculiar forms and were compatible with it were practising what Shayegan calls ‘grafting’. Grafting is an – often unconscious – operation to bring together two unconnected worlds and integrate them into the coherent whole of a body of knowledge. … Grafting can work in either of two opposed ways, the results being more or less identical. Either a new (modern) discourse can be grafted onto an old content, or an old (traditional) discourse can be grafted onto a new base. Both of these operations result in phenomenon of distortion.137 Ali Suavi, on the other hand, did not bother to ascertain whether or not modern Western parliamentary institutions were a similar but more advanced form of Islamic institution of usul-ü meşveret. By his reasoning, if Şer’iat did not enjoin or devise a parliamentary system as practised in the Western world, then it was not necessary and useful for Muslim people. It is true that Suavi declared himself a ‘democracy-lover’ but as he himself confessed, his idea of democracy was unattainable in modern times. It was the democracy that Plato reserved for the ‘ideal state’ or the state of gods, and had only been realized in the time of the Four Caliphs and sahabes, the first believers and companions of the prophet Muhammad.138 This 165

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS picture, which implied a longing for the return to ancient Islamic roots, was the Eastern version of Urquhart’s virtually omnipotent king who received constant advice from his privy council and, expectedly enough, rendered Suavi eligible to join the Urquhartite movement. Apart from this primary difference, there were other important issues that might explain the lack of close relations between Kemal and Ziya and the Urquhartites. Unlike the softa Suavi, Kemal and Ziya were, with their knowledge of French, Western-style education and alleged project of a ‘synthesis’ of Western and Eastern institutions, to a certain extent Europeanized characters. They were ‘excluded’ members of the elite, or great tradition, who had been unable to acquire à la franca wealth after the ancient political framework for sharing and circulating spoils disappeared and was replaced by ‘a system where getting rich became the private undertaking of families who diverted resources from the total game into their own’.139 Despite their lack of access to the conspicuous consumption that marked the Bihruz Bey character, the prototype Tanzimat fop whose mannerisms they so vividly ridiculed, as members of a subgroup of the ruling elite both Ziya and Kemal in the last analysis belonged to the same world as Bihruz Bey. ‘There are a number of his writings in which Kemal shows a liking for à la franca comforts which came very close to those of Bihruz Bey.’140 It is very likely that Urquhart regarded the core group of the Young Ottomans, including Kemal and Ziya, as the prototype of the dangerous creature of the Tanzimat, a degenerate character nurtured by a self-colonialist/selfOrientalist frame of mind who admired European mannerisms and saw his own culture through the eyes of ‘superior’ and ‘colonialist’ Europeans. As a political agitator Urquhart had no room for the subtleties that would enable him to distinguish Kemal and Ziya from Bihruz Bey types and see that, unlike Kemal and Ziya, Bihruz neither suffered from intellectually charged inner conflicts regarding his ‘self’ nor actively sought to construct a new ‘balanced’ self that was both Muslim/Ottoman and modern, but not overtly and exclusively Europeanized/Westernized. After all, Kemal and 166

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Ziya were among the writers who created, criticized and ridiculed Bihruz Bey types. They probably saw something in Bihruz that reminded them of themselves and their attack on him was an unconscious but violent battle with their own ‘degenerate’ self. The accounts of S. G. B Saint-Clair, an Orientalist with Urquhartite connections, of the Young Ottomans, throw light on the way Urquhart and his disciples perceived Kemal and Ziya: There is another party, whose headquarters are not in Turkey. This consists of Turkish political exiles, who adopting the system in favour with refugees from European States, can find no better weapon than personalities with which to attack the Government, and no other political programme than such vague Utopias as are in fashion amongst the unhappy class to which they belong, whose members regenerate Europe and decide the destiny of a country between a couple of cigarettes in a Leicester Square café. … These persons cannot have the least chance of doing any good to Turkey, since they err in the same manner as those they accuse, and are equally ignorant of the real grievances of the country as of the remedies to be applied.141 Kemal’s private letters reveal that his and Ziya Bey’s mode of life in London did not correspond to the kind of life that Urquhart expected – at least wished – to see in true Muslim Turks. The real Turk, whom Urquhart frequently depicted in his works and whom he would proudly introduce to his disciples, was sober, religious, extremely clean, chaste and very proud of his society’s cultural codes. In this sense, Kemal, who described London in metaphorically charged language as a ‘big garden full of ripe figs’, namely women, and who wrote letters to his father about the pleasure of intoxication provided by a bottle of fine brandy,142 who probably adopted the rules of European etiquette without much difficulty and, who, most importantly, was very critical, if not ashamed, of the deficiencies in his own culture, by no means 167

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS personified Urquhart’s ideal type of Turk. On the contrary, Urquhart must have looked upon Kemal and Ziya as representatives of those ‘morally defective young Easterners, who acquired the manners of the West and lost every trace of what is worthy, amiable and attractive in their own’.143 In contrast to his two companions, the encounter with the ‘marvels’ of Europe did not seem to have a drastic impact on Suavi’s life, or more correctly, this encounter led Suavi to cling to Turkish Muslim codes more tightly because, unlike Kemal and Ziya, his cultural rehabituation, which once enabled him to join the Young Ottoman opposition, had taken place in an intellectual rather than material domain and was not accompanied by a process of discovering and enjoying à la franca comforts and mannerisms. Suavi was the son of a paper merchant and a staunch believer in Turkish puritanism. Although he was accused of being a hypocrite for replacing his turban with a fez and marrying an Englishwoman towards the end of his exile,144 for the most part Suavi in fact preserved the softa manners that singled him out among the small Young Ottoman group and attracted the attention of the Urquhartites. Thus, despite the remarkable similarity in their approach to and in their criticism of the primary problems that most troubled the Ottoman Empire, the Urquhart school of Orientalists did not welcome the so-called ‘revolutionists’ Kemal and Ziya into their movement in the same way as they did the softa Suavi. The former’s belief in parliamentarianism overshadowed the anti-imperialist, antiinterventionist, anti-Russian and seemingly pro-Islamic features of their approach, which, in fact, diametrically coincided with the teachings of Urquhart. CONCLUSION

Throughout the Tanzimat era, the socio-economic, political and cultural structure of the Ottoman Empire underwent a series of transformations that seriously undermined relations not only between the state and its subjects but also between the Muslim and 168

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY non-Muslim components of the society. In a social system that failed to guarantee justice or to provide security against malpractice, corruption and violence, the question of equality went beyond the provisions of the Islahat Fermanı and principle of fairness; in practice it meant that, thanks to their vigilant European protectors, non-Muslims would be more equal than Muslims. In this context, the Young Ottomans’ opposition to the Islahat Fermanı and its effects was not a fanatical and arrogant Muslim protest against the mere loss of religious supremacy. It was an objection to the double standard being applied in a Muslimdominated society at the expense of Muslims.145 ‘We do not mean that non-Muslims should be treated as second-class citizens,’ wrote Ziya, ‘neither do we object to the provisions of the Islahat Fermanı per se, all we demand is equality! We want what non-Muslims have and we do not!’146 The question of foreign intervention in the Ottoman Empire’s internal matters, and in particular the capitulations problem, was part of a worldwide historical phenomenon, namely the dynamics of capitalism, which desperately needed new markets. In their writing, however, the Young Ottomans mostly opted to focus on the smaller stage in which Âli and Fuad Paşas appeared as the lead actors. This does not necessarily mean that they did not have much insight into the way the Eastern Question played out or simply failed to grasp that foreign intervention in its variant forms was an outcome of the Great Powers’ perception of the Eastern Question. On the contrary, Young Ottoman writing clearly shows that these Muslim Turkish intellectuals were cognizant of at least the basic parameters of the process in which the Western rival powers ‘otherized’ and ‘problematized’ the Ottoman Empire as the subject of the Eastern Question. Abuse of the capitulations and constant foreign intervention were the vehicles through which this imperialistically driven rivalry was manifested. Nevertheless, they did not believe that Great Power victimization of the Ottoman Empire would silence the Ottoman state in general or Tanzimat regime in particular over its share of the disasters that befell it. 169

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Hence, in the Young Ottoman writings, the bigger picture was sometimes purposefully neglected or ignored in favour of the smaller picture in which the evils of the Tanzimat regime and its ‘incompetent’ ministers were scathingly censured. Unlike the Young Ottomans, the Urquhartites concentrated their critique on the Ottoman Empire’s supposed allies rather than on the frightened, confused and discouraged Tanzimat statesmen. This did not prevent them from counselling the Ottoman governments to trust their own power and resist foreign intervention, but they hardly ever disparaged the Porte severely. This was partly because of their inclination to attack the Western writers of the Eastern Question scenario such as Russia and the British government. It was also, however, because Urquhart came to the conclusion that in the last analysis it was not the Porte – ‘contaminated’ with European ideas and having lost its distinctive qualities of ‘Turkishness’ – that would be able to save the empire, but rather that this could only be done by the ‘soul of the nation’, namely the little tradition or the Turkish Muslim masses under the leadership of a brave sultan. As a result of his lack of faith in the Porte, Urquhart seemed to have preferred to devote his efforts to encouraging the sultan and his Muslim subjects to challenge Russian intrigues, which he considered the principal reason behind the Eastern Question and the troubles that befell the Ottomans. After his conversion to Urquhart’s Russophobe cause, Suavi distanced himself from the core group of Young Ottomans and his priorities with respect to points of criticism and remedies began to differ from those of his former comrades. Although the real motive behind Ali Suavi’s decision to undertake the Çırağan plot in 1878147 remains unknown, British ambassador Layard’s reports on the incident, when read in the light of Suavi’s ardent relationship with Urquhart and his vehement support for well-known Urquhartite arguments, do not seem far-fetched. Layard reported to Lord Salisbury that according to the information he obtained from a person (not a Turk) who was on intimate relations with Ali 170

THE QUESTION OF EQUALITY Suavi Effendi, and who was with him the night before the execution of his desperate scheme, that the object the conspirators had in view was to provoke hostility with Russia, in the belief that, if the Russians attacked Constantinople, the European Powers would be compelled to interfere on behalf of Turkey, who after the Russians were defeated as they inevitably would be, would throw off the yoke put upon her by Russia and would regain her independence. They had convinced themselves that the present sultan could not be induced to renew the war. They believed that the Mussulman populations were everywhere ready to take up arms, and they have been organizing … insurrections in various part of Roumelia. … They have been in communication with the chiefs who are directing the movement in Mount Rhodope and elsewhere, and Mr SaintClair,148 whose name is probably not unknown to your Lordship, and who entertains opinions similar to those of Ali Suavi, and several Poles,149 who have been connected with the revolutionary movement in Poland, have actually joined the insurgents.150 Layard also added that Suavi and his friends were expecting money and arms from ‘some secret source’ in Europe, but there is no evidence to verify my speculation that those sources might include Foreign Affairs Committees as well as the well-known anti-Russian freemasonic organization, Temple Union, with which Suavi had developed close relations during his stay in Europe.

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4 The Financial Crisis of the Ottoman Empire _____________________________

MARVELS OF PROGRESS, POLITICAL ECONOMY AND THE YOUNG OTTOMANS

In the 1830s Great Britain witnessed the renewal of faith in the idea of progress, which had first clearly emerged in the Renaissance, as well as its upward movement ‘partly through the persuasive efforts of Carlyle, Mill, and Macaulay’.1 The Baconian argument from advancing knowledge, each age possessing and profiting from a constantly increasing body of positive truth, was well established by the eighteenth century. To this the rational philosophers, assuming the almost omnipotent effect of external circumstances on the shaping of mind and character, added the particular argument that by the control of environment human life might be vastly improved.2 What reanimated and underpinned the faith of Victorians in progress was the massive advance of technology and Industrialization, ‘which was visibly re-shaping both the landscape and social structure of the whole country’.3 Then followed the period of what Briggs calls ‘high-Victorian England’ in which Britain appeared as ‘the world’s workshop, the world’s shipbuilder, the world’s carrier, the world’s banker, and the world’s clearing house [and] free trade was the dominant commercial philosophy of the age [that] seemed all unchallengeable as Magna Carta.’4 173

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS In 1860 Thackeray, looking back to his youth in the 1820s, wrote: ‘It was only yesterday, but what a gulf between now and then. Then there was the old world. Stage-coaches, more or less swift riding-horses, pack-horses, highwaymen, Druids, Ancient Britons … all these belong to the old period. I will concede a halt in the midst of it and allow that gunpowder and printing tended to modernize the world. But your railroad starts a new era. … We who lived before railways and survive out of the ancient world, are like Father Noah and his family out of the Ark.’5 It was this ‘prosperous, free and happy’ England that the Young Ottomans, as Turkish exiles in London, found sparkling before their astonished eyes in 1867 and without doubt they felt like Thackeray’s ancient world people fresh from Father Noah’s Ark. ‘There are factories in London which look like monsters spewing out fire from their mouth,’ wrote Kemal in an article that he entitled Terakki (progress) after he returned to Istanbul. The British grow pears as big as watermelons and breed cattle ten times bigger than ours, their infants are so sturdy they look like our school-children; there is no river without a bridge over it, no village without a stabled road, no town without a railway station, no coast without a port. If you pile the gold that they brought from Australia only it makes a tower higher than our Maiden’s Tower (Kız Kulesi), if you put the smart looking buildings erected in the city centre together, they make a dazzling palace larger than our Istanbul. In short, thanks to a way they call terakki, they live paradise on earth.6 In addition to the technological marvels, perceivable wealth and miraculous capacity for making people’s lives comfortable and enjoyable, the self-complacency and self-worship that dominated the cultural and intellectual climate in the mid-Victorian era 174

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE obviously made it more difficult for the Young Ottomans to deny the superiority of Europeans, and the British in particular, in achieving progress and civilization. In his Critical and Historical Essays, T. B. Macaulay, one of the most popular writers of the age, argued that the English have become: the greatest and most highly civilized people that ever the world saw, have spread their dominion over every quarter of the globe, have created a maritime power which would annihilate in a quarter of an hour the navies of Tyre, Athens, Carthage, Venice and Genoa together, have carried the science of healing, the means of locomotion and correspondence, every mechanical art, every manufacture, every thing that promotes the convenience of life, to a perfection which our ancestors would have thought magical. In short, the history of England is emphatically the history of progress.7 In this atmosphere, the Young Ottomans yet again had to face the harsh reality that the Ottoman Empire had lost its claim to being one of the world’s great powers. It had once harboured, nourished and represented the ‘highest form of civilization’ and, what made matters worse, it did not seem capable of reclaiming its previous position in the near future. Therefore, it became harder for the Young Ottomans to take comfort, as they once did, from their memories of the empire’s heyday and to fortify their belief that it would soon catch up with Europe. Although they never ceased to believe in the potential and capability of Ottomans to rejoin the family of ‘modern civilized’ powers, the Young Ottomans were becoming more aware that with every hour the civilization train was accelerating, forcing the Ottomans to run faster if they ever wished to board. The more striking the contrast between the prosperity of the industrially advanced British Empire and the poverty and misery of the industrially backward Ottoman Empire, the more the Young 175

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Ottomans felt compelled to take an interest in and lay stress on the economic dimensions of modernization to which, until then, they had seemed to have been largely indifferent. Before long they came to realize that it was easier to discuss Âli Paşa’s handling of the Cretan crisis or to analyse Russian plots against the Ottomans than to understand and explore the dynamics of world economics and to come up with an elaborate economic policy for the Porte to pursue that would raise the empire to the level of the Great Powers. This of course did not stop them emphasizing the cardinal importance of economic development in the success of the modernization project, but they mostly opted to criticize the general economic backwardness of the country or a particular financial decision the Porte had taken and the wisdom of which even the decision-makers already doubted. In other words, the Young Ottomans seemed more concerned about results than reasons. Put differently, discussions on the gap between British wealth and Ottoman poverty, or a heated editorial on contracting foreign loans, rarely attempted to look beneath the immediate situation at how the worldwide phenomena of capitalism and imperialism were affecting the political economy. When they occasionally tried to explain what caused the once self-sufficient Ottoman economy and financial system to become so dependent on Europe they sounded naïve and, as for the remedy, they were extremely confused. It would be unfair to the Young Ottomans to expect them, as self-made intellectuals, to engage in detailed and complicated philosophical and theoretical discussions on political economy in the columns of a popular weekly paper targeted mainly at Ottoman petty bureaucrats, clerks and officials. Nevertheless, the shallowness of the arguments presented in the articles on economics and finance stand in stark contrast to the much more articulate and sophisticated discourses that characterized the articles on politics, society and political philosophy, and hence proves once more that economics was never the Ottoman Turks’ speciality: 176

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE Every society has its own way of life and each individual pursues his life in accordance with the requirements of his place in the society. Once the foundations of that customary way of life start changing, the order and harmony in the society disintegrates. This is what has happened in France, England and Germany. Due to the factories that produce goods faster and cheaper, millions of artisans and craftsmen lost their bread and became members of hungry, jobless and violent masses. Some of them have been forced to immigrate to America and the rest have been continuously revolting against their governments. Once we too had a wellestablished way of life, which lasted more than five hundred years. Back then our fertile soil fed every soul on it, we wore plain but long-enduring clothes made of our own wool and linen from our own looms and furnished our houses with carpets made by our craftsmen. Our Empire did not have any foreign debt and we lived with our head high. But after we began aping Europe we looked down on our domestic products and rushed to buy European trousers and shoes and rugs. As a result of this our looms were closed down and artisans and craftsmen went bankrupt. Having lost their customers to Europeans, they looked to the state for help and the government recruited them as minor state servants. But owing to the decrease in revenues and the increase in the number of salary earners a budgetary deficit emerged and the government started contracting foreign loans which signed our death warrant.8 This description by Ziya of the crisis in the Ottoman economy and of the major economic and political upheaval in Europe in the nineteenth century shows how little the Young Ottoman spokesman understood of the transformation the world economic system had been undergoing since the Industrial Revolution and how his knowledge of the emergence of capitalism with its newborn bourgeoisie and proletariat was perfunctory and mostly 177

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS picked up here and there by listening rather than any serious reading. Accordingly, it also shows that, on the whole, the Young Ottomans failed to grasp that the rise of capitalism in Europe as a worldwide phenomenon and the fall of the Ottoman economy after 500 years of self-sufficiency were inextricably intertwined. Again, one may argue that these Ottoman journalist intellectuals could not be expected to understand the complexity of a system like capitalism and to analyse the impact of imperialism on non-capitalist economies. Nevertheless, Ziya had been in Europe for two years when he wrote that passage and even if he had not heard of Karl Marx, the first volume of whose Das Kapital was published in 1867, he had ample time to read the mercantilists and their critics such as Adam Smith and Ricardo. After all, the conditions that prompted Ziya’s Japanese counterpart Taguchi Ukichi – a prominent ideologue of the Japanese People’s Rights Movement, which was agitating for a national assembly, written constitution and limits to the government’s arbitrary exercise of power in the Meiji period – to write A Free Trade Policy for Japan (1878), which drew largely on the ideas of Adam Smith, were not very different from those of Ziya Bey’s or of other members of the Young Ottomans’ core group. Smith, Ricardo or Marx would have encouraged him, as they did Taguchi Ukichi, to adopt a more elaborate view of the political economy and of the mechanics of capitalism, imperialism and free trade than the passage above, which blames the nation’s fancy for European clothing and furnishings for the destruction of the empire’s conventional economy, might suggest. Although another of Ziya’s articles hinted that he was at least aware of the havoc that free trade could cause to weak and unprotected economies like the Ottoman Empire’s, he continued to believe that it was the avidity of upper-class Ottoman women for cheap, gaudy printed cloth from European factories that ruined the national economy.9 Before dismissing out of hand Ziya Bey’s analysis of the cause of the Ottoman economic downfall, one should bear in mind that his fierce and persistent attack on the upper classes, whom he singled out as the main culprits for their consumption of Western products 178

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE and a Western type lifestyle, is based on more than mere ignorance and his obliviousness of the mechanics of capitalism. As Mardin points out: At the earliest stage, going all the way to pre-Selçuk times, we see that important redistributive practices marked off Turks from their neighbours and even characterized their political theories. … Despite the gradual disappearance of the redistributive features of old, the economic practices that marked it still permeated the economic ethos of the Empire. In this light, administration, for example, meant in part looking after [a] large retinue and spending the income received from the state on patronage, rather than on personal luxuries.10 Accordingly, although the lower class masses did not necessarily legitimize the upper ruling classes’ patterns of consumption, they nonetheless expected people who filled political positions to consume and spend liberally, for they looked upon it as a form of redistribution. This expectation, though an ideal that could not always be made to prevail, was nevertheless the main driving force behind the relationships between the little and great traditions in the Ottoman Empire. ‘Once the political framework for sharing and circulating spoils disappeared and getting rich became the private undertaking of families who diverted resources from the total game into their own personal holdings, protest arose.’11 In the Young Ottomans’ eyes, conspicuous Western-style consumption characterized and singled out the Tanzimat grandees and their approach to economic matters and served to prove that the system, namely the ancient redistributive ideals of the Turks, had been subverted. By stepping outside those tacit but allegedly long observed norms, the Tanzimat statesmen, as big spenders and champions of heavy consumption, whether funded by taxation or external borrowing, alienated the traditional upper and lower strata of the society alike. 179

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS As the first generation of social mobilizers, the Young Ottomans felt propelled to blame the new Western-style consumption patterns the Tanzimat statesmen had introduced and supported for the disastrous state of the Ottoman economy and to ignore other possible causes, such as the dynamics of capitalism. Nevertheless, this does not necessarily mean that the Young Ottomans were indeed aware of the intricate relationship between Ottoman economic decline and the rise of capitalism, yet, for their shortterm political purposes, consciously opted to ignore this link to attack the Tanzimat grandees. They, I believe, never developed a holistic understanding of the political economy or world economic system and by and large wrote about what they could comprehend and explain mostly through their own experiences as members of a subgroup of the ruling class whose interests suffered from the changing consumption patterns in the empire after the beginning of the Tanzimat. Compared with Ziya Bey, Namık Kemal seemed more aware of the role that the new ideology of free trade played in the world system, although he was far away from linking it in his writings to the fact that capitalist production was by nature production for a market larger than its country of origin and the principle of laissez faire laissez passer served to supply new markets for its surplus value. In principle, Kemal did not consider the principle of free trade per se a harmful and objectionable instrument; on the contrary, he believed that ‘freedom in economy and trade as in so many other aspects of social life is the dictate of nature (mukteza-yı tabiat)’. It was not the principle itself but the consequences brought about by the application of that principle in the Ottoman Empire that Kemal criticized and resented. Authorities in the science of economics suggest absolute freedom in trade and industry. As it is known freedom is a sine qua non for the materialization of peoples’ wellbeing and prosperity and nature dictates freedom in every corner of social life. Nevertheless the employment of free trade caused 180

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE very harmful effects in our economy, that is to say, the cure caused illness in our case (Tesiri bizde zıddına düştü devaların). This is because when the government implemented the policy of free trade with the infamous treaty of 1838 (Balta Limanı) our national trade and industry were in a very weak state. And Europeans who had already excelled in those areas, thanks to the immunities and privileges granted to them now and then, had no difficulty in invading our markets and driving our own merchants and manufacturers off the sector. At that point had the government not intervened in the economy but only encouraged people by means of education to work harder and produce more, our tradesmen might have competed with their European rivals. … The Porte, instead of stimulating people to work and emboldening their enterprise to start up new business and compete with Europeans, recruited those former merchants, artisans and craftsmen as state employees and let them become a parasitic class.12 Kemal seemed aware that, by abrogating trade monopolies and favouring foreign merchants in their competition with Ottoman merchants, Balta Limanı created the conditions for social disruption and unemployment.13 It is impossible not to be astonished at the enormity of our [the Ottomans’] want of wisdom as well as our tendency towards self-destruction with respect to economics and finance. Balta Limanı stands as an illustrative example to this. When free trade was introduced into the Empire with this treaty, we taxed export more than import and issued 8 per cent duty on the former while the duty on the latter was only 5 per cent., as if we deliberately meant to destroy our own industry.14 In fact, from the beginning the Ottoman state had reversed the 181

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS usual mercantilist action of tariffs by repressing exports and promoting imports and, with Balta Limanı, the Ottomans did nothing but maintain this attitude, which after a certain point served the foreign exploitation and takeover of the Ottoman economy in the age of mercantilism. For centuries the Ottoman Empire had a policy in which ‘imports of luxury items and raw materials had been encouraged, while exports were discouraged with the fear that the provisioning of the realm economy would suffer’.15 A 3 per cent ad valorem duty on imports and a small anchorage fee were the only taxes on foreign trade. On the other hand, the Ottoman merchants suffered an export duty of 12 per cent on native products. While European countries were raising barriers against foreign goods and heavily taxing foreign manufacturers to foster their national industry, the Ottomans continued to discourage exports, especially of raw materials, which they believed ‘threatened to disrupt the entire productive structure and sever the links between various stages of production’.16 The policy of granting trade monopolies to palace-appointed merchants had been used most apparently towards this end. This challenged foreign merchants who had difficulty finding goods to exchange for manufactured goods. Balta Limanı, which was designed to increase the volume of exportable output by lifting all trade monopolies, allowed ‘the expansion of trade until it reached its more “natural” limits, which given the agrarian structure, were not very extensive either’.17 In the short term, by destroying state monopolies and holding down tariff levels, Balta Limanı reduced the Porte’s revenues, which, coupled with an enormous increase in the central government’s expenditure,18 as well as another set of revenue losses caused by Tanzimat attempts to reform the taxation system, caused an ongoing financial crisis, which the Porte tried to resolve by introducing new fiscal arrangements. For centuries, Ottoman governments had occasionally depreciated the currency to meet extraordinary expenditures, but during the reign of Sultan Mahmud II (1808–39) devaluation reached its 182

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE apogee. The ‘great debasement’ of 1831–32 caused high inflation in the Ottoman economy, a loss of public confidence in the currency, and the spread of counterfeiting across the empire. As a result, the government’s ability to borrow on the domestic market decreased drastically and, most importantly, the urban population became sufficiently unhappy and restless to pose the threat of a popular rebellion.19 Thus, at the beginning of the Tanzimat era, currency devaluation ceased to serve as a sustainable method of resolving fiscal difficulties. Paper money (kaime-i nakdiyye) was issued for the first time in 1840, two years after the Balta Limanı and a year after the promulgation of the Gülhane Rescript. In 1842 a second issue was put out, and in 1848 the treasury was compelled to issue new bonds, which built up a fairly substantial annual debt owed to pay the interest to the bond holders.20 What was interesting in the Ottoman state’s dealing with the shortage of funds was its obstinate resistance to borrowing on the international money market. Although internal borrowing through tax farming, and a modified version of it called esham,21 had long been in use, old-fashioned statesmen in the Ottoman dynasty had always rigidly resisted borrowing from foreign countries. Modern statesmen and foreign embassies, in particular Reşid Paşa and his mentor Stratford Canning, the British ambassador to the Porte, had tried to crack this stubbornness, once during the crisis involving Mehmed Ali Paşa of Egypt in 1840 and again in 1851, but on both occasions they failed to convince the conservative opposition.22 In 1852, Reşid Paşa’s former pupil, Grand Vizier Âli Paşa, contracted a 50 million franc loan from England and France, but Sultan Abdülmecid cancelled the contract on the grounds that he did not want to mortgage his country’s future. According to the court historian Ahmed Cevdet Paşa, the spokesman of the conservative camp in the Porte, namely Fethi Ahmed Paşa, had the sultan’s ear and told him that his father fought two wars with Russia and dealt with so many domestic troubles that cost the treasury a fortune, but he never attempted external borrowing. ‘Given that your reign has been so peaceful and uneventful so far’, said Fethi Paşa to the 183

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS young sultan, ‘what would the public think of you if you start contracting foreign loans?’23 This Ottoman resistance to foreign debt became no longer sustainable when the Crimean War, the first disaster to befall the so far uneventful reign of Abdülmecid, broke out and created such a heavy burden on the treasury that it had no option but to contract a foreign loan. Both the conservative wing of the Porte and the palace remained highly doubtful about the wisdom of incurring a foreign debt. While Stratford Canning was convinced that ‘necessity had overwhelmed Islamism and the sultan had consented in time of war to a loan he would never have agreed in time of peace’,24 when Namık Paşa was sent to Europe at the end of 1853 to effect the loan, he was instructed not to borrow below an issue price of 95, which was a stipulation that rendered the scheme virtually untenable. As the war progressed and Gladstone’s cabinet unexpectedly declined to help the Ottomans borrow in the City on the most favourable terms, the Porte felt compelled to compromise. Clarendon, the then British foreign secretary, observed that: A loan was, however, indispensable, and not a moment’s delay should take place in raising it; but it could be effected at the market value of money, and that unless the Porte appointed negotiators to whom it could confide proper instructions, subject to the advice of the English and French governments, it must be prepared for fresh disappointment and further loss of time.25 In the meantime, the French foreign minister Drouyn de Lyhus told the Ottoman negotiators that ‘they would experience great difficulties in procuring the money unless a guarantee such as the application of the tribute of Egypt, or whatever other resource might be agreed upon, for the payment of the debt.’26 The Porte, perplexed and agitated with the obstacles and nervous about the loss of time, agreed in August 1854 to contract a loan for 75 million 184

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE francs (£3 million) at 8 per cent, which was secured by the tribute paid by Egypt to the sultan and launched on the London market by Dent, Palmer & Company.27 British and French governments officially guaranteed the loan and expressed their ‘confidence upon the Turkish government fulfilling with good faith the engagements they have entered into.’28 This was the opening of the Ottoman Empire’s external borrowing adventure which in the space of two decades would turn into a complete financial tragedy eventually leading to bankruptcy and to the confiscation of state revenues by the creditors. FINANCE CAPITAL, FOREIGN LOANS AND THE OTTOMAN PUBLIC DEBT

The Ottoman Empire’s excessive external debt was the topic on which Young Ottoman opposition was loudest. They might, in the last analysis, acknowledge the inevitability of some political decisions of which they had strongly disapproved and excuse the Porte to some extent through the dictates of realpolitik, but the policy of continuous external borrowing and excessive expenditure, to them, was simply inexcusable under any circumstances. Ironically, what the Young Ottomans failed to see, or perhaps turned a blind eye to, was the fact that: the problem in the Ottoman case was not that the general approach to the government’s financial difficulties was wrong but that, for reasons which in the last resort were beyond the control of the Ottomans themselves, the underlying causes of those difficulties were so deep-seated that they proved to be beyond remedy.29 It was a problem that undercut the dynamics of European industrial hegemony, the emergence of finance capital and the imperialist stage of capitalism in general, the Eastern Question, the urgent need for the modernization of the Ottoman Empire and its undeniable belatedness in awakening to the transformation of the 185

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS world system that rendered it a precapitalist, hinterland economy and the target of imperialist ambitions. Those Ottoman statesmen who were responsible for the financial affairs of the state during the Tanzimat era were compelled to undertake a Sisyphean task. They were trying to meet the costs of a wide modernization project that included both infrastructural and superstructural reforms that not only disintegrated the conventional patterns of economy but also brought about an enormous increase in the expenditures of the central government. There was also the chimera of the Eastern Question, which incessantly dragooned the empire into fighting wars against either its avowed enemy Russia or its own rebellious non-Muslim subjects by allocating fortunes on military expenditures. It was the same Eastern Question that endowed the European governments with the power of regarding the once unilaterally given capitulations as binding treaties and reinforcing and abusing them to the full extent to the detriment of the Ottoman Empire. The economy, on the other hand, seemed incapable of supplying the necessary funds to meet those vast and ever increasing extraordinary expenditures. The disintegration of the traditional guild system that emerged after the destruction of the Janissaries in 1826, and was completed with the introduction of free trade by the Balta Limanı Treaty in 1838, had shattered the very foundations of Ottoman industry, particularly textile manufacturing,30 and the Ottoman government, unable to introduce a tariff for revenue purposes without an ‘international agreement’, suffered considerable revenue losses due to the crisis in manufacturing. The revenue the agrarian sector provided was also not rising. The replacement of mültezims (tax farmers) with muhasssıls (salaried state taxmen) in 1839 proved a failure and aşar tax (tithe) revenues fell badly in 1840, forcing the treasury to reinstall the previous system, which the Gülhane Rescript had denounced on the grounds that it led tax farmers, who were eager to collect as much money as possible, to overtax and oppress cultivators and hence harmed the revenue resources. Subsequent efforts to reform the tax farming 186

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE system and limit the power and abuses of the tax farmers largely failed and, coupled with the burden of the newly levied taxes, the conditions of the peasant population deteriorated, a situation that did not help alleviate the crisis of the treasury. To these should also be added the prodigality of the Ottoman court, which gained impetus as the Tanzimat era progressed and manifested itself in the new extravagant palace buildings being erected one after another and furnished with the latest and most fashionable European furniture. The Ottomans, in other words, desperately needed money. And, bankers, industrialists and even small investors in Europe were more than ready to lend them the money or to channel the surplus capital into a hinterland country where, compared with home, much higher rates of interest on their money could be earned. The difference [of interest rate] may in some cases amount to as much as that between two or three per cent in Europe and twelve or more per cent in areas that cannot withstand the lure of a European loan and a dip in the European pool of capital. To find such areas one had only to look at a map of places well beyond this centre of gravity.31 In France especially, which before long would become the Ottoman Empire’s main creditor, the public turned willingly to foreign stocks because French stocks offered little opportunity for high-profit investments.32 As the Journal de Débats remarked in 1862, ‘at London and Paris there is sufficient credit for all the governments of the universe.’33 The Ottoman Empire was one of those ‘foreign sunny countries of high interest where a hot climate went hand in hand with pecuniary recklessness’ and whose ‘half-civilized’ state was suffering from ‘short-sightedness.’34 The Times summarized the situation in two sentences: ‘The Turks have a fine territory and no money, energy, or skill: We have all three, and they pour into Turkey as naturally as water finds its level.’35 In fact, 187

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS from the point of view of the European moneylenders, advancing loans to the Ottoman government reinforced the decision to strengthen the imperial centre against centrifugal tendencies. … The Ottoman Empire’s perpetual indebtedness, on the other hand, frequently served to force [the Porte] to agree to concessions or to instituting desired measures and policies.36 A decade after the contraction of the first foreign loan, the Ottoman treasury seemed no closer to achieving a balance between revenue and expenditure. On the contrary, the loans were piling up and the empire’s debt, both domestic and external, was growing rapidly. In 1855, within a year of the first 75 million franc loan in 1854, another loan for 125 million francs was contracted, which was to be repaid from the customs of the ports of Syria and İzmir. This was followed by a series of new loans. One in 1858 for 125 million francs was secured by the customs revenues and the octroi dues of Istanbul to be remitted directly to a subscribers’ syndicate. For another, in 1860, the Porte received only half of the 400million-franc loan because of a 53 per cent charge on the issue price. For another, in 1862, only 68 per cent was paid of a 200 million franc loan to the Porte, and another in 1864 for 200 million francs and yet another in 1865 for 150 million francs, the Turkish Treasury cashed only 66 per cent, with the difference constituting the banks’ commission. It was guaranteed by the tax on Anatolian sheep. As early as 1860 the French and especially the British governments started to suspect that external borrowing would not cure the Ottomans’ financial problems. ‘If no money is obtained by loan there may come a day of reform,’ wrote Lord John Russell, then foreign minister, to the British ambassador in Istanbul, ‘[and] if money is obtained by loan and there is no change of system, there surely will come a day of revolution.’37 The French and British members of the 1858 subscribers’ syndicate shared Lord Russell’s fear and formed a commission in 1860 that suggested in a 188

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE final report that Ottoman finances should be put under the supervision and control of a mixed commission in which Ottomans and Europeans would have an equal vote. They flatly declared that the Ottoman treasury was destined to default if the existent financial system was not reformed and the policy of external borrowing was retained.38 Doubts in unofficial British financial circles about the efficiency of Turkish loans appeared even earlier. While the loan of 1858 was in the process of contraction The Times advised the English capitalist to be ‘wise and prudent’. As The Times saw it, the ‘vices of Mussulmans’ were ‘sloth and pride’, and in furnishing funds Europeans were only encouraging those vices.39 The Ottoman government, at least Fuad Paşa, whom the Young Ottomans cast as the architect and champion of the policy of external borrowing, did not seem unduly alarmed by the amount of the Ottoman debt in 1861. In his condensed report to the sultan, Fuad sketched out the financial conditions of the empire and reassured Sultan Abdülaziz that, although the treasury’s troubles were undeniable, there was no justifiable reason to be pessimistic about the future. Through an increase that was to be put on certain taxes as well as the introduction of new taxes, Fuad believed, the treasury would have an upswing in revenues and in the meantime, by contracting a new foreign loan, it would be able to remove some of the worthless banknotes from the market and consolidate the floating debt. Then, by indicating the ratio of the interest payment on the external debts of Great Britain, France, Austria and the United States against their total expenses, he reassured the sultan that the Ottoman interest payment, which was one-eighth of the total expenses, was in no respect worrisome.40 It could be argued that the optimistic discourse in which the report was couched actually aimed to soothe the anxious sultan and ward off the danger of dismissal from office. When the Porte was at pains to contract a loan in 1860 to deal with the Lebanon crisis, and was trying in vain to induce its allies to guarantee the money, both the British and French ambassadors in Istanbul warned their governments that unless the empire could find the necessary sum, a 189

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS disaster would ensue. Âli Paşa intimated to the British ambassador Bulwer that ‘the finances were in such a bad state that the Government was in a great dilemma, for the whole of the revenues for the next six months were to be appropriated for the army and public servants, and that the Loan was most urgently needed.’41 Bulwer then opined that ‘the sultan and the Seraskier were both being most unpopular and without money there would be ere long an insurrection’.42 Likewise, ‘the French Ambassador was fearful that if the Loan was not obtained, there would be trouble in Istanbul, as in Syria/ Lebanon.’43 Great Britain refused to come to the Porte’s rescue and Bulwer was informed that the Turkish government must borrow money on its own credit.44 As Lord Salisbury, looking back in the 1870s remarked, ‘Great Britain introduced the Turk with a sort of quasi-guarantee to British stock markets and then left him to his own devices.’45 In fact, whether the confidence in the resilience of the Ottoman finances expressed in Fuad’s report was a result of the Porte’s genuine optimism or merely an attempt to hoodwink the sultan did not make much difference. The want of money was so preponderant and so urgent that the foreign loans seemed summum bonum. The Porte continued to borrow and before long found itself trapped in a vicious circle. The Young Ottomans witnessed their empire sinking into massive external debt and drifting towards inevitable bankruptcy and, no matter how little they understood of the mechanics of economics, they had no intention of watching this tragedy in silence. OTTOMAN EXTERNAL BORROWING AND THE YOUNG OTTOMANS

Before the insurrection in Crete proved to be more than a mere local disturbance – the Ottomans in the capital believed that it would be quickly and easily repressed – and reached first place on the agenda by utterly occupying the press, Kemal, as the editor of the Tasvir-i Efkâr, wrote a few articles on financial issues of which two focused on the Porte’s policy of external borrowing. Both the 190

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE articles were couched in the very cautious language of humble advice rather than censure. In the first article, which appeared in August 1866, Kemal expressed his regret that the treasury had long been facing serious problems, yet he reverentially bowed his head before the ‘patriotic endeavours’ of the government to overcome the country’s financial troubles. As Kemal saw it, the empire had at least managed to retain its credibility on the European money markets by making its repayments on time. The Porte’s sincere efforts to resolve its financial problems, however, proved to be ‘not adequate enough’ because the budget deficit and need for new loans remained. Continuous financial crisis had filled the country with despair and it ‘discredited the government in the public eye’, and hence reduced the chance that the new financial measures and reforms would succeed. Nonetheless, Kemal was confident that once the state began to retrench and to exploit the national resources of the country that had been long inactive, the revenues would increase and the budget would reach a balance without needing loans. In addition to that revenue-increasing policy that Kemal believed ‘the government would not abstain from implementing’, the disturbances in Europe would ‘with God’s help’ come to an end. Thus, the Ottoman Empire would be able to transfer the money that so far had been allocated to military expenses to productive investment.46 In the second article published in December 1866, Kemal more explicitly pointed out the dangers of resorting to regular external borrowing to balance the budget deficit and meet unproductive expenses. ‘An economist argues that unless the loans are spent on productive investments which in the long run pay off the debt, the policy of borrowing invariably brings disaster’, he wrote. ‘There is only one exception to that, i.e. the condition of war which threatens the existence and independence of a state.’47 At the time the Young Ottomans fled to Paris the Porte was negotiating a new loan for 55 million francs, which was to be contracted in June 1867 during the sultan’s visit to Europe. At the end of the same year the government started knocking on the doors 191

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS of some French houses for another loan to enable it to meet the repayment of the previous loan. In October 1868 the Porte managed to conclude a loan with the Société Générale of Paris for 125 million francs. In August 1869 the Turkish chargé d’affaires at Paris signed a convention with the comptoir d’escompte of Paris for another loan of 555 million francs. This was the largest loan so far raised by Turkey. During the Young Ottomans’ stay in Europe the Porte concluded four new and increasingly larger loans. While the empire’s financial prestige was dropping lower and lower the terms of the loans were getting ever heavier. Although Paris and Vienna still showed interest in Turkish bonds, London no longer regarded them as a profitable investment because of the predictable default and insolvency that was expected to occur sooner or later. ‘Few people who are familiar with the [London] Stock Exchange’, said the Economist, ‘ever think of holding “Turks”.’48 The Young Ottomans, now in Europe and publishing their own newspapers with Prince Mustafa Fazıl’s money, gave full vent to their criticism of the Porte’s financial policies. In the Muhbir, Suavi, in his simple but straightforward style accused the Porte of selling the empire to Europeans in return for the commissions they obtained through contractions of the foreign loans. For Suavi, ‘an extraordinary financial instrument was being used by the Porte to pay the salaries of the state servants as well as to enrich their own family and relatives.’ The ministers were ‘destitute of patriotism and Muslim ethic’, they had ‘offshore funds in European banks’ and they were ready to ‘hop on a boat with their mesdames and run off to Marseilles’ if the empire went bankrupt. It was the Ottoman people who would be left with an enormous debt and a crumbling empire. The ship was sinking and the Ottomans were at a crossroads: ‘Are we going to cling to our renowned fatalism and sit still waiting for the death to come’ [kazaya rıza deyip oturalım mı?], Suavi asked, ‘or are we going to raise our voice and awaken the captain, i.e., the sultan, to the danger?’49 The real polemic, however, came when, in the Hürriyet, Kemal 192

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE and Ziya fiercely attacked the Porte’s short-sighted and unwise financial decisions, asserting that they deliberately and knowingly would lead to bankruptcy and a European takeover of the Ottoman economy. According to Kemal, Fuad Paşa approached external borrowing as a real and inexhaustible source of revenue. By pointing to the debts of European states, he had persuaded the sultan that external borrowing was a common financial device used by all great powers and that the Ottoman Empire was employing a method that had already been proven successful. But Fuad Paşa was comparing two things that were incomparable: Yes, France started borrowing two centuries ago and her debt reached an enormous amount; but she underwent the biggest and most violent revolution the world had ever seen which was followed by other less prominent but equally disintegrating revolutions. Napoleon sought to spread his own regime across Europe and engaged in numerous collisions and wars. The present Emperor alone led the country to three major wars in Crimea, Mexico and Italy. France, in other words, has a claim to control the world and keeps more than one million men under arms. Nevertheless her debt amounts to only five times her revenues and, with only 3 per cent interest rate, her annual repayment does not exceed one-seventh of her total revenues. Whereas, since the time our Empire contracted the first loan in 1854 we have had to deal with only one war and three insurrections, including the present one in Crete and today our debt is seven times more than our revenues. That is, in the space of less than fifteen years, and by struggling with one-tenth of the troubles that France faced, we managed to outdo her in borrowing. This is because France never resorts to foreign loans unless she is in war and the Ottoman Empire looks to European bankers whenever she is short of funds.50 Kemal, in fact, was correct in his assertion that while the 193

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Ottoman Empire was relentlessly contracting foreign loans, an external borrowing policy had no popularity in the eyes of the French government. Yet the two French figures who without doubt had an important impact on the decision-making behind Ottoman financial policies, the two most illustrious administrators of the Banque Impériale Ottomane and the Crédit Mobilier, namely the brothers Emile and Isaac Péreire, optimistically believed that borrowing would bring idyllic results to a country. In 1864, when invited to deliver an address to the Corps Législatif, the lower house of the French Parliament, during the discussion of the budget, the Péreires suggested that the French government should prefer loans to an income tax as a source of investment capital, thus gather voluntary savings which were in need of being invested. They were aware that there was a danger in allowing the national debt to grow, but they believed that accrued production would mean higher tax revenues to repay the loans.51 The Péreire brothers failed to induce their own government to implement the suggested policy, but it is likely that the confidence these two French financiers professed in the benefits of external borrowing helped the Ottoman statesmen be optimistic and also calmed the anxieties of French bond holders and investors. The Young Ottomans, however, agreed with the French government’s request to suppress the Péreire brothers’ speech, as well as with Lord Stanley, who informed the British parliament that the Ottoman Empire’s financial situation was becoming a greater threat to its existence than Russia.52 Not surprisingly, the Porte, particularly Âli and Fuad Paşas, as being responsible for that ‘disastrous policy’, were cast in the Muhbir and Hürriyet as the most notorious traitors and deceivers in the history of the Ottoman Empire. This attitude was manifested in the ‘Ottoman Subjects’ Protest and Repudiation of the Ottoman Debt’, which was published in both the Young Ottoman newspapers in 1868. The 194

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE protest letter, purported to be a declaration signed by 102 Ottoman patriotic citizens in Istanbul, was designed to inform the world, especially the empire’s creditors, that Ottoman subjects had nothing to do with the infamous debt and would accept no responsibility in the event of a default because the Porte had broken all its earlier promises to the Ottoman people to abandon the borrowing policy. The Ottoman people took this ‘deception and insincerity’ of the government as an ‘insult to their honour’ and would no longer tolerate it. The foreign loans, unlike the Porte’s pledges, had been used not for the general welfare of the country but to ‘enable the ministers to make fortunes and to lead an extremely extravagant life’. The decisions for borrowing had been taken ‘without the approval of the Ottoman people’ since there was no consultation mechanism in the Ottoman political system and the public had no say in the decision-making process. In short, the Ottoman masses had ‘neither agreed on nor benefited from’ those foreign loans; thereby ‘they did not consider the Empire’s debt their own debt.’ Unless the Europeans stop encouraging the Porte to borrow by investing in Turkish loans, they would be unable to find a debtor before them when the bankruptcy occurs because the Ottomans, as an ‘oppressed and exploited’ people, would refuse to pay ‘the personal debt of a bunch of greedy and traitorous ministers’.53 In the following issue Ziya wrote a commentary on the ‘Ottoman Subjects’ Protest’, which repeated flatly that the Ottoman people had washed their hands of the empire’s debt. In the commentary Ziya likened the Ottoman Empire to a rich man’s ‘spoilt, ignorant and foolish’ son who inherited a fortune from his father and recklessly squandered it. He was obviously not endowed with the Midas touch and always had ‘some apple polisher majordomos’ around him who volunteered to deal with his business and ‘in fact looted his fortune’. Before long he lost the fortune along with his financial credit and was compelled to borrow money at outrageously high interest rates and to secure the loans by his house or to pawn his golden watch as a pledge. He was soon bound to go bankrupt and fall into the hands of 195

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS pitiless creditors unless he rid himself of those ‘leeches’ and abandoned his extravagant lifestyle. The analogy of a spoilt, idle, ignorant son of a rich man to which Ziya resorts in his commentary when he depicts the Ottoman Empire’s borrowing and spending patterns in fact goes way beyond a mere analogy; it is a manifest example of the ‘anti-Bihruz Bey’ stand that the Young Ottomans took throughout their opposition. The ‘Bihruz Bey syndrome’, as Mardin terms it with reference to the famous protagonist in Ottoman novelist Recaizade Mahmut Ekrem’s (1846–1913) Araba Sevdası (1896), represents the distaste that nineteenth-century Ottoman social mobilizers developed for the superficial veneer of Westernization, which they believed the upper classes and ruling elite of the Tanzimat era adopted. Bihruz Bey appears as the ‘archetypical super-Westernized fop’ who thinks that Europe consisted of fine carriages, table manners and the French cancan and whose lifestyle is exemplified by sloth, reckless spending and superficiality. As mentioned earlier, taking an anti-Bihruz Bey stand or frowning on conspicuous consumption, which united representatives of the little tradition and excluded members of the great tradition, had deep roots embedded in the ‘ancient ideals of redistribution’. Since the earliest times, in the eyes of the lower strata, heavy consumption by Ottoman grandees was tolerated only if contained an element of largesse, that is ‘generosity to employees, followers, slaves, retinue, domestic and armed guards’.54 Any open negation of these redistributive mechanisms never failed to cause a public outcry and sometimes strong protest from the lower classes, as in the uprisings led by Patrona Halil (1730) and Kabakçı Mustafa (1807). After the Tanzimat the lower classes began to see in the upper classes’ Western-style conspicuous consumption ‘a systematic subversion of the traditional mechanism of reciprocity and the social control it allowed’. Not only was consumption of the Western type alien, but it quite clearly broke the solidarity of the community. 196

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE Conspicuous consumption of a type made possible by a market economy appeared as heavily fraught with consequences for the individual in terms of a rake’s progress, and also as a denial of the economic basis of community, as an escape from the controls of their tight, cosy set of mutual interactions.55 As a subgroup of the ruling elite, so part of the great tradition but kept in lower executive positions, in the 1860s the Young Ottomans skilfully worked the political equivalent of the Bihruz Bey theme to gain little tradition support for their publicist, constitutionalist and modernist cause. They accused Tanzimat statesmen of creating an aristocracy and of ignoring the interests of the man in the street by upsetting the ancient ideals that kept the society coherent. As a corollary, an ‘anti-Bihruz Bey’ stand bore the undeniable stamp of the traditional Ottoman anti-capitalist stand fashioned mainly by the economic practices and ideologies of the craft guilds that under the influence of the dervish orders professed that a solid economy is based on thrift and that denounced personal advancement and luxurious spending.56 The attack on Western consumption patterns or ‘Bihruz Bey syndrome’ that characterized Young Ottoman writings about the Ottoman financial crisis and external borrowing in particular, as seen in both the ‘Ottoman Subjects’ Protest’ and Ziya’s commentary, was in this sense the product of a protest by the lower classes and relatively deprived bureaucrats who singled out these patterns as alien to an Ottoman economic system they believed had been self-sufficient and self-coherent for 500 years. In effect, there seems to be a distinct difference between the ways in which the core group of Young Ottomans, namely Ziya Bey and Namık Kemal, on the one hand, and Ali Suavi on the other, deployed the anti-Bihruz Bey discourse. The former, as members of the elite who after the Tanzimat had been unable to acquire à la franca wealth, knew only too well that a Bihruz Bey-type criticism of Westernization would appeal to the popular forces and 197

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS gather them behind their social policies and political banner. Their scoffing at dandies was instrumental in their struggle against the upper bureaucracy. For Namık Kemal, Bihruz Bey-type mannerisms ‘were only obnoxious because they were obstacles to mobilization’ and, as mentioned above, in a number of his writings ‘the liking he reveals for à la franca comforts came very close to those of Bihruz Bey.’57 Ali Suavi’s working of the Bihruz Bey theme, however, was different both in quality and origin. His antiBihruz stand was much more spontaneous because, as the son of a paper merchant, he felt the impact of the loss of an Ottoman economic ethos and rapidly disappearing redistributive patterns in his bones. When he attacked the super-Westernized Tanzimat fop and his conspicuous consumption, Ali Suavi was not catering to his modernist political cause but defending traditional Ottoman economic and social values to which he was bound by ties at the bottom. The image of those Tanzimat grandees whom he believed would hop on the first boat to Paris if the empire went bankrupt stood as a reminder of the betrayal of old Ottoman democratic ideals. While Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey were able to see into the mechanism of the little culture and use it for their own purposes, it was a matter of life and death for a member of the little culture like Ali Suavi who worked the anti-Bihruz Bey stand at a more communitarian than instrumental level. The core of Suavi’s values appears as ‘an Ottoman Puritanism centred in the community’.58 In the commentary Ziya also gave a characteristically nostalgic account of the once prosperous and self-sufficient Ottoman economy and summarized the stages of decadence with a focus on external borrowing; it directly links the conspicuous consumption of the Tanzimat grandees under the pretext of ‘Europeanization’ or the ‘Bihruz Bey syndrome’ with the economic and financial bankruptcy of the empire. From the foundation of the Empire to the beginning of the Tanzimat and despite innumerable troubles we did not borrow any money from without. … When the state began 198

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE imitating Europe after the Tanzimat the expenses rocketed up and both the palace and the ministers sank in a dissolute lifestyle. … When some members of the government raised doubts and fears about external borrowing, the champions of that policy justified their course with an argument the consequences of which were not foreseen at that time. They opined that the Ottoman Empire needed to strengthen her relations with the European powers in order to obtain their support against the formidable Russian threat. If the Europeans invested in the Empire and lent money to her government they would have strong bonds with this country and a very good reason to defend her against the Russian attacks and to maintain her integrity. In other words, to become the debtor of Europe would mean to ensure the future of the Empire.59 Ziya Bey’s last argument, indeed, gives insights into the way the Ottoman reformist cadres perceived the links between political economy and the salvation of the Ottoman Empire. Those Tanzimat statesmen who formalized the debt relationship with the European moneylenders were convinced that the salvation of the empire could only be negotiated through a more complete incorporation into the European system. What they avoided talking about, however, was the fact that those relations would inevitably bear the characteristics of the kind of relations between highly capitalistic imperialist states and a precapitalist exploitable state. As Rosa Luxemburg argued, imperialism, as the ‘final stage of the assimilation of the precapitalist economies’, comprised the industrialization of the hinterland that had formerly purchased the output of the metropolis. At the level of the international economy this was effected by means of loans. ‘[In this way], the income from profits, interests, dividends and rent in the metropolis, which cannot be directly invested in an increase in the stock of capital, is invested abroad as money capital and thereby generates a demand for the output of the producer industries of the metropolis.’60 199

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Luxemburg points out that the hinterland almost invariably fails to repay those metropolitan loans and in debt consolidation operations new loans are offered. Consequently, they become ‘the surest ties by which the old capitalist states maintain their influence, exercise control and exert pressure on the customs, foreign and commercial policy of the young capitalist states’.61 In the Junius Pamphlet of 1915, which focused on German imperialism, Luxemburg shows how the nature of economic relations between this new member of the imperialist club and the Ottoman Empire were inseparable from the latter’s political and diplomatic dependence on the former. The growth of the German sphere of interest lays the foundation for Turkey’s political protection. More specifically it is necessary to protect the Turkish State which has become the willing tool of German policy. The modernization of the Turkish army was a splendid business arrangement for Krupp and the Deutsche Bank. At the same time Turkish militarism became entirely dependent on Prussian militarism, and became the centre of German ambitions in the Mediterranean and in Asia Minor.62 One may argue that at the beginning of the 1850s Âli and Fuad Paşa had a project in mind that was similar to the one Sultan Abdülhamid II and the Young Turks undertook with Germany from the 1880s onwards. However, when the former attempted to buy protection through loans, unlike the latter they were in no position to tie the empire’s fate to a single reliable power. The halfhearted cooperation, which in fact derived from rivalry, between the two possible creditors/protectors, namely Great Britain and France, rendered the establishment of the kind of economic, political and military relations, which were to be set out between Germany and the Ottoman Empire in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, impossible in the 1850s. This Tanzimat mentality, which the reformist cadres’ perception of the dictates of 200

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE the Eastern Question generated, continued until the emergence of the Turkish national movement in 1919 and the foundation of the Turkish Republic under the leadership of Kemalist cadres in 1923. Kemalists, well versed in the dynamics and consequences of the Eastern Question and the faults and short-sightedness of their Ottoman predecessors, would meticulously work out and express an anti-Tanzimat mentality, at least in discourse, with respect to economic and financial independence. Returning to the commentary, Ziya continued attacking the ‘ineptitude’ of the Porte’s financial policies and the avarice and corruption of the ministers with a highly charged argument largely built on anti-Bihruz discourse. As Ziya saw it, what had to be done after the Crimean War was not to carry on borrowing but to economize and be frugal, but the ministers were unwilling to ‘forbid their wives to buy diamond jewellery and to give up on their latest-model carriages’. The Europeans then warned the Porte that it could not carry on borrowing unless the loans were spent on productive and developmental investment and the creditors were becoming reluctant to fund the Ottoman state’s unnecessary expenses. This warning, however, did not lead the government to prioritize infrastructural expenses, but ‘showed them that it was easier to find money if they pretended to borrow it in order to construct railways, bridges and school buildings’. After this discovery the Porte became bolder in borrowing and never ran out of a good excuse. ‘Due to the want of railways and roads’, the finance minister would say to the European creditors, ‘we cannot exploit our natural resources efficiently’. ‘If you loan us some money we will connect the urban areas with the rural ones and facilitate the trade which will make [an] enormous contribution to the general welfare.’ On another occasion it would be the modernization of education, ‘our school buildings are inadequate in number and quality’, the grand vizier would say, ‘and hence our people are so ignorant. If you can loan us some money we will educate them and teach them to be modern.’ Yet none of those loans was spent on the projects for which they were contracted. 201

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS The loan of 1868 was the last straw and it unveiled the fact that the government was ‘a liar’ and the Ottoman subjects, as the Protest and Repudiation of the Debt had proved, were in ‘open disagreement’ with their government.63 The Young Ottomans were delighted to see that the British Foreign Office shared their criticism of the Porte’s financial policies. As mentioned above, Lord Stanley, in a speech delivered after the Ottoman government had concluded another loan with a French house in October 1868, informed the parliament that ‘the Turkish Empire was overwhelmed by her domestic and fiscal problems which posed a greater threat to her maintenance than any external attack, yet’, he added, ‘it was a problem which the Ottomans had to resolve themselves without any foreign intervention.’ This was too good an opportunity to be wasted and Kemal would not let it go in silence. The next issue of the Hürriyet carried the translation of Lord Stanley’s speech followed by a lengthy commentary by Kemal. ‘We had never heard such a truthful account from the mouth of a European minister before’, wrote Kemal. The bitterness of Stanley’s words should not lead us to undervalue their importance. This must be a cue for the Porte to understand that the truth cannot be concealed forever. The sultan can be kept in darkness as to the real situation of the Empire’s finances thanks to the Great Wall of China erected around him but European statesmen like Stanley can by no means be deceived by the Porte’s fairy tales that appear every day in official and semi-official newspapers in Istanbul.64 The commentary presenting the finest example of the Young Ottomans’ employment of the anti-Bihruz Bey discourse continued with the most acrimonious censure peppered with the wildest accusations, which outdid all previous articles the Young Ottomans had written on the Porte’s financial policies. It ended with a warning that openly reminded Tanzimat statesmen of previous 202

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE Muslim popular outbreaks in the empire, such as the Patrona Halil revolt (1730), which were largely generated by the little tradition’s reaction to the Westernizing upper classes’ ‘betrayal of ancient economic patterns’. The Patrona Halil revolt ended the Westernizing reforms that Damad İbrahim Paşa had introduced in the 1720s. The uprising had its immediate roots in the economic discontent of craft guilds in the Ottoman capital, which took exception to İbrahim Paşa’s efforts to make a new Versailles out of the Golden Horn.65 Yet there are things about the finances of the Ottoman Empire which even Lord Stanley would not dare to reveal for fear of making them worse. … The European cabinets should at least know that, when appointed to office, those ‘civilized’ Ottoman pashas who join glamorous balls in their frock coats and chat about justice, freedom and international politics in most gentlemanly way, turn into monster-like creatures that are many times more barbarous than the image of their ancestors in the Europeans’ mind. Like a man who sells his sick old mother’s medicine to indulge himself in his favourite drink, those pashas shamelessly squander the foreign loans which should be earmarked for public works for their personal pleasures. They are the sort of men who do not hesitate for a moment to build pavilions and cottage houses for themselves by using the state’s tax money which was squeezed from the poor Anatolian peasant who is compelled to sell his children to pay the tax. The European cabinets should know that the Ottoman people are on the verge of losing their forbearance. We fear that if things go on like this, a general revolt will inevitably arise that will pave the way to the collapse of the Ottoman Empire the consequences of which, as Napoleon Bonaparte once remarked, are beyond any prediction. Therefore we urge Europe not to aggravate this situation by supporting those pashas in their hazardous borrowing game.66 203

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS When the specifications of the loan of 1868 that the Porte had contracted with the Société Générale of Paris was made public in March of the following year, Kemal dissected the terms and conditions of the loan to show that, judging from the triple security measures inserted in the contract by the creditors, the Ottoman Empire had no financial credit in the international money markets. The reason that enabled it to continue contracting loans was that it offered very high interest rates and smart commissions and also readily agreed to relinquish its control over its revenues and deliver it to the creditors as security for the loans. By gradually delivering the administration of the state revenues to the hands of greedy European bankers our government soon will be out of work, this of course will give some more leisure time to the ministers to enjoy themselves but what will happen to poor Ottoman taxpayers? It is no mystery to us that they will become the Eastern milk cow which will be milked dry by European swindlers until it dies. May God pity and save them!67 In the following months the Hürriyet continued to publish inflammatory articles, the general tenor of which was that the Ottoman Empire was drifting towards the verge of an abyss and that the next step of the Ottoman finances would be insolvency, which would inevitably cause the European creditors to take over the administration of the revenues. ‘The motto of Fuad Paşa, i.e. the Ottoman Empire cannot survive without foreign loans, has been proven wrong’, Kemal remarked, ‘because today she dies of foreign loans.’68 What reinforced the Young Ottomans’ fear that foreign creditors would impound the empire’s revenues was the example of Tunisia where an international commission was set up in 1869 to control all state revenues and expenses and organize the repayments of the country’s foreign debt. The Tunisian experience was, for the Young Ottomans, ‘a nightmare that had come true’. Kemal, in an article 204

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE entitled ‘Lesson’ (İbret), opined that it was only a question of time before other debtors, including Egypt and the Ottoman Empire, would default and pass the control of the treasury over to such commissions. Kemal thus predicted the Ottoman default of 1875 and the Public Debt Administration (Düyun-u Umumiyye) of 1881. He was convinced that once such a commission was set up the Ottoman Empire would be ‘ancient history’. There are but two probabilities both of which seal the end of the Empire. Either the Ottoman people will welcome the invasion of Europeans and prefer the rule of a colonial government to their own despotic government or the spirit of their ancestors will resurrect and lead them to resist the invaders and bravely fight a war against the world’s most powerful states, a war which will be lost before it started and bring the Empire under complete military and political invasion.69 Kemal voiced the misgivings of the Ottoman intelligentsia about the empire’s final collapse through a crushing defeat by the armies of the Great Powers, which was to be borne out in the First World War. What he neither dwelled on nor predicted, however, was, the emergence and success of a Turkish nationalist movement that would found a republican national state from the remnants of the Ottoman Empire. For Kemal and his contemporaries, the main concern of an ideal Ottoman subject was and should be the salvation of the Ottoman Empire. For them, ‘vatan [fatherland] connoted not a true and fervent nationalism but a spirit of patriotism, the older and milder European antecedent of the modern sentiment.’70 That a ‘Turkish’ nationalist movement should emerge after the most strategic and wealthy parts of the Ottoman territory had been irrecoverably lost and the defeated and surrendered Ottoman Empire had been parcelled out among the Great Powers was obviously beyond Kemal’s sphere of interest, for 205

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS such a movement by definition could not make any promise to save and maintain the Ottoman Empire. If it did not appear while the empire still existed what use was a patriotic nationalist movement? In the 1860s Kemal’s dream was an Ottoman nation cum nationalism not a Turkish one71 that would not only be content with what territory was left from the Ottoman Empire but would also repudiate its cultural-religious legacy and political inheritance to fortify its existence. Even in his most heroic panegyrics on the Turkish ancestors there was no encouragement for a Turkish nationalism that in the last analysis would put Turks before Ottomans.72 Nevertheless, had Kemal lived long enough to see ‘Turkish’ nationalists fight the Turkish war of independence in the early 1920s, ostensibly ‘in the name of a Caliph who was being held prisoner’,73 he would without doubt have given it his full support. Towards the end of his active life as a theorist and pamphleteer Kemal became ‘more concerned with the glorious past of the Turks than the creation of a new Ottoman nation and also his attention was turned towards Islamic people within the Empire whose reunion might reinforce the Ottoman state’.74 But, in the 1860s and 1870s, no intellectual-patriot in the Ottoman Empire was as yet a ‘Turkish nationalist’ or ‘pan-Islamist’ and Kemal was no exception. Not surprisingly but ironically, Kemal’s patriotic poetry, filled as it was with exhortations to save the fatherland, played an important part in the formation of nationalist and patriotic mental patterns among the leader cadres of the Turkish nationalist movement. Mustafa Kemal recalls and vividly describes how, as military school pupils, he and his friends read and recited Namık Kemal’s poetry in secret because they ran the risk of being expelled from the school if caught.75 After the victory of the Second Battle of İnönü in 1921, in a telegram sent to Namık Kemal’s son Ali Ekrem, Mustafa Kemal expressed his veneration for the ‘great Kemal whose exhortations to fight bravely in the name of the love of fatherland lighted up the path of new generations’. ‘The Anatolian spirit that orders one to resist the invaders of the fatherland finds its roots in the spirit of our ancestors. Among them your father, who urged us to sacrifice 206

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE our lives for the sake of the independence of the sacred fatherland, holds a very distinguished place.’76 The fatherland that Mustafa Kemal alluded to and set out to save, however, differed from the fatherland that Namık Kemal had in mind when he wrote his patriotic poetry. To the leader of the Turkish nationalist movement, ‘the fatherland in 1919 was Anatolia where a handful of Turks had managed to survive and the Ottoman Empire and its state and the Caliphate and the sultanate were all nothing but meaningless words (bimâna elfaz).’77 Yet, that incorporeal Ottoman Empire still had an enormous public debt waiting to be repaid and the European creditors had no intention whatsoever of accepting its repudiation by the young Turkish Republic as they had not when the Young Ottomans repudiated it in 1868.78 AWAKENING THE CAPTAIN TO THE DANGER: THE EXTRAVAGANCES OF THE RULING ELITE AND THE BROKEN TACIT AGREEMENT

While the foreign loans, which the half-hearted inheritor of the Ottoman Empire would be compelled to repay four decades later, were piling up and the Porte was negotiating the largest Ottoman loan so far, that is the loan of 1868, the Young Ottomans, though extremely frightened and pessimistic, hoped that the establishment of an international commission in Tunisia would at last alert Abdülaziz to the dangerous consequences of excessive external borrowing and that he would take matters into his own hands to save his empire from a similar fate. This was, at first glance, a naïve and strange expectation from a monarch whose civil list expenses were gigantic and who had developed a taste for European-style palaces and battleships. According to a confidential report that two representatives of the British Board of Trade sent to Lord Russell in 1861, the sultan’s civil list came to more than £1,200,000, which, however large a sum it was, did not include the entire allowance for the imperial establishment. It was an item of expenditure with which there was considerable difficulty in dealing; for whatever sum was put down in the budget, it rested entirely upon the will of the 207

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS sultan to restrain his expenses within the limit prescribed, or, on the contrary, to incur liabilities far beyond the amount that was assigned to the civil list.79 Commenting on the sultan’s ‘palace mania’, The Times, in September 1863 said: This is indeed a tendency to be regretted, and one that might well be the subject of a gentle remonstrance from the friendly advisers whom France and England have at court. … Unless an end be put to the habits of life which these elaborate buildings are the expression of there can never be any hope for Turkey under its present rule.80 In the eyes of the Young Ottomans, however, responsibility for the sultan’s inertia or indifferent behaviour over the financial problems lay with the Porte, which kept him in the dark and lulled him into a false sense of security. If only the sultan had known the gravity of the finances he would have put a stop at once to both external borrowing and excessive expenses. In fact, to cast the sultan in the role of ‘innocent and golden-hearted’ monarch surrounded and controlled by traitorous ministers was one of the most distinctive characteristics of the Young Ottoman opposition. The motif of the ‘well-intentioned but ill-informed’ sultan invariably reappeared in their writing when they came to comment on the palace’s share in the Ottoman financial crisis. As mentioned above, Suavi, while publishing the earlier issues of the Muhbir in London, was at pains to awaken the ‘captain of the ship’ to the danger of sinking, an attitude that gained strength after he became an Urquhartite disciple. His mentor Urquhart initiated one of his ‘farewell intrigues’ against the British Foreign Office before he died by sending a certain Mr Butler Johnstone to Istanbul with a lengthy letter addressed to Sultan Abdülaziz and signed by 21 Foreign Affairs Committees in January 1876, just after the default of the Ottoman treasury. The argument of the letter, which caused a stir in the British embassy in Istanbul and in the Foreign 208

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE Office, runs as follows: after deploring British policy towards the Ottoman Empire from the beginning of the ‘Eastern Question’, the Foreign Affairs Committees denounced the policy of external borrowing, which they believed European cabinets imposed on the Turks. ‘Of all the operations that have been attempted against the Ottoman Empire the most successful is that which has burdened her with a national debt. This is an imitation of Europe, in which Europe, after all, is not imitated.’ The English borrowed money ‘not from foreigners but from their own countrymen’, so if they went bankrupt no foreign state would acquire a hold over them; Turkey’s ‘so-called friends but actually enemies’ advised it to borrow money from their capitalists and encouraged it to increase its debt from year to year. Eventually, the empire could only acquire strength and be in a position of safety ‘by freeing itself from that debt’. The letter ended with the FAC’s exhortation to the sultan ‘to follow those maxims of the Koran which, while they protect the Christian rayah, do not permit the abuses and follies of Europe, but which enjoin liberty of commerce and simplicity of taxation’ and ‘to liberate himself from all the obligations which have been fraudulently imposed upon Turkey by the so-called Paris Treaty’.81 Between the lines, the letter in fact makes references to the old redistributive patterns or ancient democratic ideals of the traditional Ottoman economic ethos as perceived and worked out by Urquhart and also links the Westernization efforts of the Tanzimat and the economic and financial crisis of the empire to the betrayal of traditional economic, social and cultural values by the reformist cadres who ‘imitated’ Europe. At a closer look, the logic of the letter follows closely the logic of popular outbreaks, such as Patrona Halil and Kabakçı Mustafa, which had been characterized as revolts against Westernization or imitations of Europe, but which in fact were a defence of the ‘popular puritan communitarian’ values that cemented economic power relations between the little and great tradition when the latter seemed to have departed from observing those values. Suavi, still in Europe by that time, wrote to his associates in 209

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Istanbul, to accommodate the bearer of the letter, Mr Butler Johnstone and entertain him in the traditional Ottoman style. ‘Make sure that there is no alcohol at the dinner table’, he wrote to Sami Paşa, ‘since he is an admirer of old and pure Muslim-Turkish manners and etiquette’.82 Once in Istanbul, Butler Johnstone contacted the British ambassador Elliot on 11 January 1876 and asked him to do ‘a personal favour’ by obtaining an audience in the palace on his behalf so that he could present an address from the FAC.83 Elliot was perplexed when he read the address and he did not see how, as British ambassador, he could be a party to the presentation of an address, the object of which was to represent the whole past policy of England in odious light and which concluded by entreating the sultan to declare himself liberated from the Treaty of Paris.84 He immediately reported the incident to the Foreign Office from where a copy of the address was sent to Prime Minister Disraeli and to the Queen. The Foreign Office approved Elliot’s course of action and classified the incident as ‘one of Mr Urquhart’s productions.’ Butler Johnstone, having failed to present the address to the sultan, returned to England but the FAC and Suavi did not give up. In the hope that the Ottoman press would show interest in the subject and inform the sultan about the incident Suavi translated the address into Turkish and published it as a pamphlet in Paris85 and, after his return from Europe, he also had the newspaper Vakit publish it.86 When the address was published in Turkish for the second time the original addressee of the letter had already been dethroned and found dead in Çırağan Palace where, as the British ambassador who prevented the address from being transmitted to the sultan pointed out, ‘by lavishing on the palace millions of money diverted from the service of the State he had largely added to the feelings which led to his overthrow.’87 Ziya’s and Kemal’s endeavours to awaken the sultan to the 210

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE danger of financial bankruptcy were no less remarkable than Suavi’s. They wrote numerous articles in the Hürriyet that besought the sultan to shake himself off the ‘despotic and treacherous’ ministers who were looting the treasury and to replace them with patriotic ones who would abandon borrowing at once and rehabilitate the finances. They were of course aware that the sultan was becoming more and more obnoxious in the public eye but they were also determined not to let the Porte use court consumption expenses as an excuse to cover up its own financial blunders and systematic plundering. It is interesting to see how Kemal and particularly Ziya unconvincingly defended the sultan’s extravagant expenses in order to shift the blame to the Porte. When the sultan’s position was utterly indefensible they did their best to divert attention from his expenses to those of Âli and Fuad Paşas. Commenting on a letter sent by a reader from Istanbul in which Abdülaziz’s palace fancy as well as the prodigality of his harem were acrimoniously censured, Ziya acted as a defence lawyer who could not deny in the last analysis his client’s involvement in the crime but tried to convince the jury that environmental conditions, which were beyond his control, had driven him to commit the crime. Are there not numerous palaces in the capital of each great state? Were they built without money? If Abdülaziz’s palaces cost ten thousand times more than their actual value due to usual corruption and peculation prevailing in all departments of the state, is this his fault? We cannot deny that the public debt in the last nine years became four times bigger than that of Abdülmecid’s reign and the heavy taxation on the subjects wore out their forbearance, but is it Abdülaziz who is responsible for that? Did he ever get his hands on those millions that were continually borrowed from European bankers? Had he known the actual situation of his subjects would he have remained silent? No! This financial disaster is resulted from abominable activities of those traitors who have 211

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS been sucking the blood of the state like ticks and Abdülaziz cannot be blamed for it.88 But how could Abdülaziz as the caliph sultan who was personally responsible for the welfare of his subjects in accordance with the requirements of Islamic institution hisba and who was in the last analysis the omnis potestas in an absolute monarchy not be the one to blame? The Young Ottoman answer was simple: it was because he had long been like a prisoner or an oppressed ignorant child at best, in the hands of the Porte. His ministers had usurped his imperial authority and turned him into a puppet. There have been so many tyrant-like ministers in the history of this Empire, who manipulated and controlled the sultans, but none of them did as much damage to the state as Âli and Fuad Paşas did. These two men transferred millions that they stole from the state to their personal accounts in European banks. Rumour has it Fuad Paşa has 30 million francs in French banks. … The poor sultan has been overwhelmed by their intrigues and without knowing how to tackle them he retreated to his corner. … When he ascended to the throne Abdülaziz seemed determined to implement a policy of retrenchment and also tried to put a stop to venality and peculation in bureaucracy but Âli Paşa as grand vizier continued favouring his relatives and protégés. When confronted by the sultan and dismissed from office he complained that everyone has the right to benefit from the state’s money but Abdülaziz regarded the state as his own property [pederinden kalma çiftlik] and would not let anyone else benefit from it. He also had his ‘tools’ in [the] European press whom he fed with the state’s money to publish abhorrent lies as to the sultan’s mental health. In French papers appeared news about how Abdülaziz went insane and how his ministers were obliged to keep him away from the state affairs.89 212

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE In an imaginary conversation he had with Abdülaziz in a ‘dream’ Ziya hinted to the sultan that he was becoming extremely unpopular in the eyes of his own subjects who were unaware of the ‘usurpation of the imperial function by the Porte’ and who held the sultan responsible for all the grievances that were in fact caused by his ‘traitorous’ ministers.90 What is interesting about this ‘dream sequence’ article is that Ziya, while trying to induce Abdülaziz to restore the imperial function, was also proposing the introduction of usul-ü meşveret and he seemed not to have doubts about the compatibility of the resurgence of power and irresponsibility on the part of the sultan with the establishment of a well-functioning parliamentary system. However, ‘he lived long enough to witness the sight of exactly such a resurgence during the reign of Abdülhamid II’91 who shortly after his accession suspended the newly-founded parliament and had Midhat Paşa, the architect of the parliament and constitution, killed in exile. The Young Ottomans, especially Ziya and Kemal whose antiBihruz stand was instrumental rather than spontaneous, were aware that their theoretical-philosophical polemics that linked the prevailing financial crisis to topics like the power conflicts between the Porte and the palace, the usurpation of the imperial function, the restoration of the monarchic principle or the introduction of usul-ü meşveret said very little to the agitated and economically distressed masses in Istanbul and other big cities who were in quest of a spokesman through whom to voice their grievances as plainly as they experienced them. As put in the letter of a reader who was ‘a clerk in a state department’ and whose salary was ‘in arrears not less than three years’, he and his family did not know and could not care less ‘whether the remedy is the introduction of parliament or the dismissal of existent government or putting the Empire under English rule’, what they did know, however, was that ‘if things should go on long in this manner they will all starve to death’.92 Perhaps to balance the somewhat elitist attitude that characterized their articles on financial problems and to emphasize 213

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS their cooperation with the non-elite, Ziya and Kemal opened the columns of the Hürriyet to the opinions of the populace and published numerous letters from readers. It was through those letters that the Young Ottomans had the chance to take ‘straw votes’ among the newspaper-reading public and to gauge the magnitude of the economic distress and political tension in the capital. The letters, which the Hürriyet mostly published without any commentaries, also enabled the Young Ottomans implicitly to criticize the reckless expenses of Abdülaziz and his harem without taking the risk of contradicting their fundamental approach on the sultan’s ‘innocence’. The letters, published ostensibly as mere reflections of the readers’ point of view were, in other words, used by the Young Ottomans to express their own uneasiness vis-à-vis the sultan’s irresponsible attitude and extravagant lifestyle, which they abstained from attacking for the sake of the monarchic principle that characterized and dominated their frame of mind. A commentator correctly points out that there is a correspondence between the economic fluctuations and the Ottoman Empire’s nineteenth-century political and intellectual history and presents examples that clearly suggest a causal link between economic distress and political agitation. ‘Both periods of political and ideological ferment, those of the Young Ottomans and the Young Turks, were times of economic distress. … And in both periods the ideologues and activists displayed at least some responsiveness to economic problems.’93 The rest of the argument, however, seems disputable. It states that: since almost all members of the Young Ottoman leadership came from extremely privileged backgrounds, the response may not have gone much beyond denunciation of general grievances, such as foreign commercial privileges or the public debt [and that], given the massive long-term problems of the Ottoman economy, it was perhaps natural for the earlier ideologues to respond more to them than to specific short-term problems. 214

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE The large volumes of the Hürriyet which are filled with readers’ letters and correspondence from the big cities of the empire as well as Kemal’s and Ziya’s commentaries on some of them that all together loudly cry out about the unpaid salaries, pawned watches and silverware, empty pantries and starving households, clearly indicate that the Young Ottomans, in line with their effort to gain the members of the little tradition to their cause, in fact, did respond to and exploit specific crisis conditions. The letters, which sometimes took up more space than the articles and invariably appeared in almost every issue of the Hürriyet, vividly describe children going to bed on an empty stomach, housewives nagging their husbands not to bother to come home unless they brought some bread, unpaid state servants robbing Peter to pay Paul, hungry beggar-like soldiers wearing worn-out uniforms and torn boots and angry esham holders crowding in front of the finance ministry everyday and loudly cursing the government.94 It can be detected from those letters that the widening gap between the poverty-stricken masses and the well-off ruling elite, including the sultan, whose consumption pattern seemed unaffected by the prevailing economic crisis, was shaking the aforementioned ‘tacit contract’ between the sultan and his subjects to its foundations and irrevocably changing power relations between the ruler and the ruled. The letters I quote below as examples of innumerable others in the same vein illustrate the gloomy atmosphere in Istanbul as well as the irritation caused by the extravagances of the sultan, his government and Bihruz Bey types in general, as opposed to the economic straits afflicting the lives of less privileged Ottomans. If an outsider lands in Istanbul today, having seen crying crowds everywhere, he would first think that there has been national mourning in the city, and then he would discover that those criers are actually state servants, soldiers, trades folk and their families who can no longer tolerate the financial straits under which they have been labouring for years. He will also be shocked to see that in the very same city where people are 215

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS dying of hunger in the streets there are extravagant pavilions and palaces everywhere under construction. The government says that salaries have not been paid for the last seven months because the Treasury is empty yet we hear that they spent hundreds of thousands of kises on the visit of a French Empress. They even built a private church inside the Beylerbeyi palace in case she wanted to pray during her stay in Istanbul. We see that the Grand Vizier has been erecting a new concrete house for himself, the expenses of which are covered by the Treasury. While battleships are rotting away in the Bosporus we learn that new ones have been ordered from London. Meanwhile poor folks are struggling to survive and living in abject poverty. Everyone is heavily in debt and the bakers refuse to give bread on credit. The most painful of all is to see that our Caliph sultan seems entirely indifferent to this indescribable misery of his subjects.95 Another letter more specifically describes the shock and embarrassment that until then self-sufficient, respectable middle-class and even rich Muslim families in Istanbul, who were not part of the French cancan group and who lived fairly modestly, had to experience under the severe fiscal straits: When I was in the bazaar the other day I saw the butler of an acquaintance of mine who shyly told me that he was there to sell his master’s watch. He said that they had been living in debt for months and some of the creditors had taken legal action which caused extreme humiliation to his master and led him to have a stroke. He said that the previous night the whole household had gone to bed on an empty stomach since the bakery in their neighbourhood stopped credit sales; moreover they had not had any coal and had to cut the chestnut tree in the garden to burn it in the fireplace. I believe this gives an idea of the gravity of the economic distress. If this is what the recent crisis did to a man who is a 216

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE state servant with a so-called salary of 2000 kuruş and whose wife has a large amount of esham, you can imagine what it did to those who always lived from hand to mouth. But do not think that this misery involves everyone for we see that the Çirağan Palace is being refurbished nowadays and redecorated with latest fashion European furniture. 96 Most of the letters and correspondence also contained bitter complaints and acrimonious censure about corruption and peculation, which seemed commonplace in the state machinery of the empire. The Young Ottomans, with the help of their readers, wasted no opportunity to expose the disreputable behaviour of ministers and other functionaries. In the broadest context, the Young Ottomans did not regard the corruption, peculation and venality as something the Tanzimat had invented. They were cognizant of the deep-rootedness of those vices in the Ottoman political system; however, they seemed to have recognized that during the Tanzimat era the corruption gained a new dimension. The new type of Ottoman statesmen, Bihruz Bey types with a fondness for stagecoaches and European table manners, as Kemal saw it, acquired their knowledge of looting and the ‘art of stealing’ from their predecessors and, after mingling with European political elites, also developed expensive tastes that required increasingly more money to satisfy: The Foreign Minister, for example, was given a winter and a summer house along with hundreds of maids and servants and eunuchs and finest breed Arabian horses and so forth. But because he adopted European etiquette and despised the Ottoman way of life he refused to eat in copper trays and ordered golden tableware from Europe; instead of furnishing his houses with printed cotton of Üsküdar he purchased French linen, he spent a fortune on English gardens and Hungarian horses and latest model stagecoaches. His salary, very exorbitant though it may be, did not meet his lavish 217

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS expenses and led him to ask for gifts from the sultan and to steal from the Treasury at every opportunity.97 The Young Ottomans’ main target was the ‘head of the fish, which starts to stink first’, namely Âli and Fuad Paşas. As the most powerful political figures in Ottoman political life, the Young Ottomans believed that they ‘set a very bad example to the rest of the ruling class by excelling in peculation and corruption’. Âli Paşa’s lower-class background was repeatedly evoked and the source of his avowed wealth was questioned on every occasion. Âli Paşa, in other words, was conjured up as the most loathed Bihruz Bey who betrayed his roots and worked his way through systematic plundering to satisfy his pretentious Western lifestyle. If it was not for peculation how could the son of a mere doorkeeper become the owner of such a mass of assets? Did he find buried treasure? In his famous satire poem the Zafername Ziya Bey wrote mock panegyric stanzas that praised Ali Paşa’s ‘probity and uprightness’ in the most bombastic language and attacked his enemies who charged him with corruption. Âli Paşa, Ziya suggested sarcastically, owed his fortune to his ‘frugal lifestyle’ and ‘habit of saving’. His ‘extremely virtuous’ character shielded him from corruption and his ‘stern refusal throughout his dazzling career to accept the sultan’s gifts or Khedive’s offers of bribes stood as the best rebuttal of those charges that were brought against the innocent Grand Vizier’.98 In the rest of the Young Ottoman writing, however, we see that this mockery left its place to very fiendish charges against Âli Paşa that were uttered in the most forthright manner.99 Likewise, his staunch ally Fuad Paşa too received scathing criticism from the Young Ottomans with regard to his ‘unjust gains’ and ‘corrupt disposition’. Fuad Paşa, they believed, had even outdone Âli Paşa. In 1865, during the operation of unification and conversion of Ottoman internal debt, as grand vizier Fuad Paşa ‘had received a gigantic sum’ from the General Credit to remove the state’s bank – Bank Imperiale Ottomane (BIO) – from the operation and to speculate in the securities due for conversion. This bribery 218

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE conducted by the BIO’s rivals became public in 1868 when a lawsuit in the French courts revealed that the General Credit had set aside more than £250,000, almost 80 per cent of which was destined for Fuad Paşa personally, ‘à satisfaire certains engagements dans l’intérêt de l’opération que son Altesse avait entrepit avec des financiers locaux’.100 The Young Ottomans regarded this incident, which they described as ‘Defter-i Kebir Yağması’ (budget loot), as a monumental reminder of Fuad’s ‘traitorous’ and ‘corrupt’ character. They closely followed and extracted any news about the lawsuit that appeared in European papers and repeatedly pointed out that Fuad had not sent a disclaimer to the press, so thereby accepted the charges.101 Yet, Young Ottoman criticism of peculation and corruption was not confined to the bribes and atiyes that Âli and Fuad Paşas allegedly received from European bankers, Egyptian viceroys and the sultan. They were in fact aware that the problem was far too complicated to be explained by the corrupt tendencies of certain disreputable personalities. The whole political system, they believed, was rotten to the core and the horrific degree of venality that prevailed at the top of the state was only the tip of the iceberg and should be taken as a bench mark of the limitless expanse of corruption at all levels of Ottoman politics and administration. As long as state servants and officials continued to be appointed through a system of favouritism rather than merit and as long as the political system did not include a consultation and control mechanism that would enable the Ottoman subjects to put a check on the conduct of the government the Ottoman Empire would be unable to rid itself of systematic corruption. The remedy for Ziya and Kemal, needless to say, was the establishment of a parliament in which the deputies of the people would call the government to account for the reasons and results of its activities. Then Âli and Fuad Paşas would be unable to waste a fortune on ‘mock reforms’ designed to ‘hoodwink and/or appease the European embassies’. With the most important of all, the usul-ü meşveret, the government would no longer be able to ‘contract immense foreign loans ostensibly for railway construction but in 219

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS fact for the ministers’ personal reckless squandering’.102 With a parliament the government would have to justify its expenses to the last penny during budget discussions and at last the Ottoman budget would acquire the status of a genuine and functional budget instead of ‘a lengthy piece of sheet laden with lies on which the tax payers had no say’.103 Although in the last resort the Young Ottomans hailed the usul-ü meşveret as the remedy to the financial crisis, economic distress and corruption prevailing in the empire, it would be unfair to assert that they considered it a magic wand that would turn an industrially backward and poverty-stricken country into a prosperous and powerful state overnight. They were cognizant that unless national economic mobilization came into play that included the creation of a national commercial class, a domestic industry and a national banking system, the Ottoman Empire was doomed to perish, but how this quantum leap in economic development could be achieved was too complicated a question for the Young Ottomans to answer. As mentioned above, these self-taught intellectual journalists were not economists and the Ottoman Empire did not nurture a particularly rich intellectual climate in which a range of economic ideas could be discussed and debated. Therefore, it is not surprising to see that Kemal, depending on the context, could support with equal enthusiasm Smithian ideals of non-intervention by the state in the economy on the one hand and the state assuming the role of initiating economic development by setting up companies and factories on the other.104 One thing about which the Young Ottomans were certain was, however, that the Muslim Ottomans had to shake off their inertia and start working hard. In Muslim-Turkish society, as Kemal saw it, being content with what one had was hailed as a virtue and working for more was sneered at. This cultural code that worshipped being self-sufficient and discouraged building capital that could be channelled to productive investment was, the Young Ottomans, including Ali Suavi, believed, one of the fundamental reasons that reduced the Muslim masses to mere poor peasants as opposed to 220

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE wealthy foreign and non-Muslim merchants and bankers. Another cultural element, namely fatalism or resignation to one’s fate distinctively characterized the Muslim Ottoman society’s outlook and lifestyle, did not help to shake off this state of lethargy or realize the country’s potential: They say thanks to civilization (medeniyet) people can make fortunes, but can a fortune make one’s life longer? Won’t we all, rich or poor, die in the end? They say thanks to civilization people can build and live in magnificent buildings, but can a grandiose house chase the angel of death away when he knocks on the door? They say thanks to civilization the streets are illuminated at night, but what use is light after dusk? What good comes out of one’s sitting idly in coffeehouses or loitering in the streets late at night while he can sleep peacefully in his bed? They say civilization invented ships and railways but what is the point of travelling hundreds of hours on a train or getting sea sick on board a steamship while one can entertain himself in his shed and earn his daily bread by working in his field? … These are the kind of ideas we should rid ourselves of. Yes, it is true that a fortune cannot make one’s life longer but it does help to increase the quality of his life; it is true again that concrete buildings cannot resist the angel of death but they do resist fire and flooding, and yes one should not waste his time in coffeehouses after dusk but illuminated streets also enable people to work and trade and earn more money even after the sun goes down. What we Ottomans need today is to open our eyes to the blessings of civilization and learn to appreciate it. Should we content ourselves with what we have and cling to what we have seen from our fathers, we, like Indians or Algerians, will fall into the hands of Westerners and pursue an oppressed and shameful life.105 This passage leaves no room for doubt that Namık Kemal did not 221

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS favour the craft guilds’ traditional economic practices and ideologies. He saw the guilds as having generated an anti-capitalistic attitude and communitarian conservatism in society marked by the lower classes’ dislike of the ruling elites’ conspicuous consumption. While being aware that the ‘ancient circle’ of redistribution and social exchange could impede progress, Kemal evoked that tradition to gain popular support for his opposition to the Tanzimat grandees. This excluded member of the modernist elite saw the communitarian puritan values of the little tradition, including the uses of wealth, as mere instruments. By inviting the populace to ‘open their eyes to the blessings of civilization and learn to appreciate it’, Kemal implied that Western-style production and consumption patterns were, in the last analysis, indispensable in the game of becoming civilized. This passage yet again emphasizes that, as members of a subgroup of the Ottoman elite strata, Namık Kemal and Ziya Bey did not belong to the same world as Ali Suavi who would only approve the adoption of technology and material advancement of the Western world and would backtrack when it came to core values of Ottoman society largely fashioned by a precapitalist communitarian puritan approach. As a modernist from the ranks of the little tradition Suavi’s appreciation of civilization did not go much beyond emulating Western science, technology and engineering. His stand was among the first examples of a certain type of construct of the West that would prove long lasting in the history of both Ottoman and Turkish societies. The idea that Western civilization can be adopted as a completely value free product would reappear at various times in the years to come finding its philosophically crystallized form in the movement of political Islam in the 1980s. For Kemal and Ziya, who believed that a new set of cultural and social values were needed to embrace and appreciate the civilization, there were critical questions to answer. How were these deep-seated cultural elements of the Ottoman frame of mind to be cleared away and how was a new stimulus for working harder and accumulating capital to be infused into the veins of the society? How could people renowned for their conventionalism be shown 222

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE that their fathers’ ideas were suppressing their potential for development and impeding the progress of their society? How could a new generation filled with enthusiasm for carrying their country to the level of the industrialized modern great powers be raised? The Young Ottomans set their hopes on education as the institution to change the fabric of society in the long run. All three Young Ottomans, including softa Suavi, seemed aware that Europe’s economic and political supremacy owed much to a new type of education rooted in the paradigm of the Enlightenment and they did not see why it should not bring about the same results when applied to Ottoman society. But who would initiate and carry out such an idealistic and massive project to ‘enlighten’ Ottoman society and to replace its die-hard vices as sloth, lethargy and fatalism with a productive energy and earnest faith in progress? The Young Ottomans had no faith in the success of a reconstruction project undertaken by ‘a despotic and corrupt’ government. The nation itself should initiate and control it and there was only one way to achieve this – to set up a parliament in which the will of the nation found expression and set the rules. Once the usul-ü meşveret was introduced and the people had control over the conduct of state business, corruption would be averted, the life and property of the people would be respected and secured, taxation would become just, state revenues would be earmarked for public services, the justice system would start functioning, and enlightened instructors in modern schools would teach the country’s youth how to work hard, invent, invest, compete and make themselves useful to their beloved fatherland. Once the people could see that tax-farmers and local governors could no longer rob them of the fruits of their hard labour they would become motivated and relish working hard and making fortunes. Once they started practising liberties and acknowledging the importance of ‘progress and civilization’, they would devote their lives to the development of their country by setting up trade companies, exploiting the natural resources of the land and building factories. 223

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS And the first step on the path to those long-coveted idyllic results was the introduction of a parliament embodying the ideals of freedom and justice and liberating the potential of the Ottoman people who had long been encumbered by a corrupt and oppresssive government. This was the Young Ottomans’ line of reasoning in a nutshell, a reasoning that saw the materialization of the Ottoman Empire’s economic development, industrialization and financial credibility inextricably intertwined with the introduction of usul-ü meşveret. It should be recalled again that Suavi’s idea of usul-ü meşveret differed from that of his comrades Kemal and Ziya. Under the influence of his mentor Urquhart’s teaching, it mostly envisaged enlivening the imperial council to resemble the ancient Privy Council of the British, which lay stress on restoring monarchic principles rather than on establishing parliamentary rights and liberties. Suavi hoped that with constant counselling from an ‘A team’ of well-educated zealous patriots, the sultan could get the Ottoman economy back on track. Once the corrupt elements had been eliminated from the government and administrative bodies, and able and public-spirited men chosen and appointed to strategic positions, the spirit of progress would flourish in society and the inexhaustible resources of the empire would at last start to be exploited. Although all the Young Ottomans repeatedly referred to the considerable latent resources waiting to be developed from Ottoman land, only Suavi wrote obsessively about the Ottomans’ ‘buried treasures’, which, he believed, once discovered and exploited would place the empire among the wealthiest nations in the world. This was a characteristic feature of Suavi’s approach to the economic problems of the Ottoman Empire and it undoubtedly pointed to the Urquhartite influence that he underwent during his exile in Europe. A retrospective glance at the life-long propaganda activities through which Urquhart sought to improve British trade with the Ottoman Empire to the detriment of Russia, and his vow to restore the 1838 Anglo-Turkish Trade Treaty (Balta Limanı) to its original 224

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE terms and intentions, which he claimed had been altered through a Russian scheme, is necessary at this point to get a better insight into Suavi’s ideas and convictions about both the economic problems of the Ottoman Empire and their solutions. More than three decades before Suavi’s path crossed his British mentor’s, Urquhart had written his Turkey and its Resources (1833), which earned him a considerable reputation in British literary quarters as well as in Windsor Palace. King William IV had read the young Urquhart’s first book and he was convinced that this idealist Oxford undergraduate had found a ‘gold mine’ in Anatolia that the British could dig out without much challenge. In Turkey and its Resources, having dissected the tax system and commercial regulations in the Ottoman Empire, Urquhart remarked that this country was a hidden paradise ready to be discovered and to serve the expansion of British trade in the Near East.106 These remarks sealed the beginning of Urquhart’s lifelong but ultimately futile battle to render the Ottoman Empire Great Britain’s primary trading partner and staunch political ally. In September 1835 Urquhart was appointed as first secretary to the British embassy in Istanbul with a mission to develop commercial relations between the two countries in accordance with the principles and measures he had suggested in his writing. These, in a nutshell, consisted of abolishing the system of monopolies and introducing free trade in the Ottoman Empire, bolstering the Turkish economy through promoting Turkish exports to Great Britain and achieving a kind of reciprocally profitable deal for both empires. Urquhart was convinced that trading with the Ottoman Empire was in many respects far more favourable to Great Britain than trading with Russia. On comparing the advantages and costs of producing from Russia’s principal exports with those of Turkey, he came to the conclusion that ‘the great mass of raw materials at present exported from both the northern and southern ports of Russia may be attained from Turkey and that within a very short period’.107 What is more, unlike Russia, which ‘prohibited nearly all the manufactures of England, and sought to enforce the imports of 225

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS her raw produce’, in the Ottoman Empire ‘the production of foreigners were not loaded with duties and she did not dream of protection of national industry’.108 Within a year Urquhart drafted a trade treaty that later would be transformed into the Anglo-Turkish Trade Treaty of 1838 (Balta Limanı), but he was recalled before he managed to complete his negotiations with the Porte and conclude the treaty. On his return to England Urquhart found his royal patron dead and his successor, Queen Victoria, impossible to see; he thereby lost access to the palace where he had previously raved about Turkey’s virginal natural resources and vast commercial market. When the Balta Limanı was signed between the Turkish and British empires on 16 August 1838 Urquhart’s political career entered a new stage that would gradually turn a promising bright diplomat and King William IV’s protégé into a persona non grata in the eyes of almost all British governments until his death in 1877. The final text of the trade treaty, which Urquhart presented immediately after its conclusion, differed radically from the original draft he had made and that the British government had adopted in 1837. The principles of the treaty he proposed, he claimed, had aimed to ‘develop the resources of Turkey which was to undersell and ruin Russia, and also to open a market for the sale of English manufactures’, but the final treaty of 1838 was designed effectively to ‘extinguish Turkey as a competitor with Russia in all articles of raw produce’.109 In Urquhart’s draft, the British merchants’ privileges were to be extended to subjects of Turkey, thus freeing the Ottoman merchants from all kinds of restrictions and internal duties that placed them in a disadvantageous position. The treaty, however, placed the subjects of Great Britain on the same footing as the sultan’s ‘most favoured subjects’, namely ‘the taxed and oppressed’ Ottoman subjects. Although Great Britain retained the title of ‘most favoured nation’ because of the clause that placed its merchants in the category of ‘most favoured subjects’, the latter were still subjected to various internal duties, which in practice put 226

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE the British merchants in a less advantageous position than the Russian merchants who, thanks to Article 7 of the Treaty of Adrianople (1829) stipulating unlimited freedom of trade, had the right to traffic free from all charges.110 In addition, in the draft the duty on imports was to be retained at 3 per cent; those on exports were to rise or fall on each article according to the difference between its value in the markets of Turkey and Europe; a commission of merchants at intervals of some years was to fix the scale and in no case was the sum to exceed that previously paid.111 This measure had aimed to stimulate Ottoman trade by encouraging and facilitating the export of Ottoman goods to Great Britain. It had also sought to maintain the favourable terms on which British imports to Turkey had been carried out. Whereas in the treaty the duty on imports seemed to be a fixed 3 per cent, with the extra 2 per cent duty British merchants had to pay for purchasing and trafficking all foreign goods brought into Turkey from other countries, the duty on imports was in practice raised to 5 per cent. Moreover, the duty on exports, although seemingly limited to a fixed 9 per cent, ad valorem, due to the clause that recognized the 3 per cent export duty already ‘established and existing at present’ the duty on exports in practice amounted to 12 per cent. Thus, although the treaty brought up favourable results for the British merchants by abolishing the monopolies in the sultan’s dominions, it was a far cry from Urquhart’s original draft in terms of promoting Anglo–Turkish trade. As Urquhart saw it, with the 5 per cent duty on imports as well as other internal duties that applied to Ottoman and British subjects alike, British merchants became less advantageous than the Russian merchants and the 12 per cent duty on exports largely crippled the possibility of an increase in the Ottoman exports, which Urquhart had believed would change the destiny of the Ottoman Empire. The real beneficiaries of the treaty, therefore, were Russian merchants and this was enough to convince Urquhart that Foreign Minister Palmerston was a Russophile, or even in the pay of Russians. The comments of Karl Marx, who shared Urquhart’s Russophobia and 227

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS enthusiastically joined in his crusade against Palmerston,112 summarize the way the Urquhartites perceived the Balta Limanı and the British government’s ‘betrayal’ of both the Turks and the British merchants: Mr Urquhart proposed to King William IV a commercial treaty to be concluded with the sultan, which treaty, while guaranteeing great advantages to British commerce, intended at the same time to develop the productive resources of Turkey, and thus emancipate her from the Russian yoke. … But the noble lord destroyed the treaty, falsified it in every part, and converted it to the ruin of commerce. … So favourable to Russia, and so obnoxious to Great Britain was the treaty as altered by the noble lord, that some English merchants in the Levant resolved to trade henceforth under the protection of Russian firms, and others, as Mr Urquhart states, were only prevented from doing so by a sort of national pride.113 The Turks, as Urquhart reiterated at every opportunity, were ‘done to death by a piece of paper … they have signed’ and, ‘with the exception of Mehemed Ali [Khedive of Egypt], there was not a single Turk, from Reschid Pasha down to the street porter’ who understood a single word of the treaty. It was imposed by British authority and power, which knew very well ‘the effects of placing prohibitive duties on the exports of a country’.114 According to Urquhart, the president of the Board of Trade, Poulett Thomson whose family had considerable trade relations with Russia took a remarkable part in downplaying the importance of the development of Anglo-Turkish trade as well as in altering Urquhart’s draft. The President of the Board of Trade was a Baltic merchant. … After a futile attempt to bargain for the imposition of an export duty of 10 per cent on Turkish produce, which he 228

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE conceived would protect the Baltic trade, he gave in. … In little more than two years this Treaty, nominally the same but really changed into that which Mr Poulett Thomson had desired for the prohibiting of Turkish exports, was imposed on the Porte as the condition of that aid against Mehemet Ali, which subsequently furnished the pretext for the Syrian intervention.115 Like Marx, Ponsonby, then the British ambassador to the Porte and thus the man who concluded the treaty, was also persuaded by Urquhart that the Balta Limanı was ‘designed’ to eliminate Ottoman competition in world trade in favour of Russia. In his ‘Testament’ Ponsonby wrote that the treaty, ‘which carried a high export duty on all those articles of Turkish growth which competed with the produce of Russia’ was ‘imposed on the Porte’.116 It was Anstey, MP for Youghal, however, whom Urquhart, MP for Stafford at that time, induced at the beginning of 1848 to introduce a motion in the parliament about the ‘traitorous course’ taken by Palmerston with regard to the Balta Limanı.117 In reply to the motion, Palmerston, having ridiculed the charges brought against him with tart language, declared that ‘the treaty as concluded does not differ in any material respect from the draft of the treaty’. He admitted that there were slight differences, such as the amount of import duty, which the treaty specified as 5 per cent as opposed to 3 per cent in Urquhart’s draft, but he asserted that this was one of the things to which in negotiations they were obliged to submit. ‘Nobody can suppose’, he said, ‘especially in arranging commercial transactions between two countries, that you can go with a draft treaty in one hand, and a pen in the other, and say to a foreign minister, “There, Sir, sign that treaty, or jump out of the window.”’118 While Palmerston was then trying to justify an alteration in the draft that caused a slight disadvantage to the British merchants by referring to the firmness of the Porte during negotiations and insinuating that the Turks sought the best deal for their own country, he carefully refrained from making any 229

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS comments on the disadvantages that the Ottoman Empire suffered because of the 9 per cent export duty stipulated in the treaty. This defeat in parliament, accompanied by cruel taunts about his ‘monomania’, however, did not daunt Urquhart. After the conclusion of the Balta Limanı in 1838 he, as Mr Sheil, the MP for Dungarvon mockingly remarked during the debate on the motion, had been ‘traversing the whole country, and employing lectures through all England for the purpose of holding up the noble Lord to the execration of his country’. As Shannon points out: protective tariffs in Russia had led to a decline of the British trade in its established British centres, Glasgow and Newcastle and their merchants, manufacturers and bankers listened sympathetically to Urquhart’s denunciations of the ‘haughty contempt of British statesmen for commerce’ and to his insistence that trade with Turkey was an appropriate alternative.119 These men formed the nucleus of the later Foreign Affairs Committees, which, professing Urquhart’s well-known convictions, undertook the mission of ‘defending the rights of the Turk’ and strove to improve the Ottoman Empire’s public image in Europe. It was with those committees that Suavi, the first of the Urquhartites’ Turkish converts, mingled during his stay in Great Britain and whose faith in the ‘inexhaustible resources’ of Turkey he propagated with every means within his power. After he began to publish the Ulûm, which purported to be no more than an educational/cultural publication, Suavi devoted numerous articles to the undeveloped resources and vast commercial potential of Ottoman lands, which he believed the high export duty on Turkish goods had curtailed – views that seemed to reproduce Urquhart’s convictions in Turkey and its Resources as well as in his other publications.120 When in 1876 Butler Johnstone failed to present the FAC address urging the sultan to put an end to external borrowing and to replace foreign loans with the revenue of 230

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE country’s still unexploited resources, it was not surprising that Suavi as the ‘Turkey branch’ of the FAC took the matter into his own hands and repeated the appeal, this time in Turkish. However, Sultan Abdülaziz was not equal to the role that the Urquhartites and Young Ottomans, especially Suavi and Ziya, asked him to assume. After decades of oppression, degradation and poverty, coupled with the famine of 1874–75, which rendered life for the ruled-over masses unbearable, the palace had largely lost whatever prestige it might have had. In other words, even if the FAC and the Young Ottomans had accomplished their mission of informing the sultan of the gravity of the financial situation, as Mahmud Nedim Paşa’s experience with Abdülaziz showed, it was too late to create a monarch out of the present sultan who would be able to contain the damage and prolong the life of the empire. At the beginning of October 1875 the long predicted bankruptcy of the Ottoman Empire became apparent. The newly appointed grand vizier Mahmud Nedim announced in Ramazan Kararnamesi that: in the presence of a budget deficit of five million pounds Turkish, the Porte decided to pay only half of the coupons in cash. The other half of the obligations represented by the coupons would be discharged during the next five years by the issue and delivery to the bond holders of bonds bearing five per cent.121 This regime was observed for three months only and the deferment of the payment of the coupons for 1858, 1869 and 1873 loans paved the way to the establishment of the Düyun-u Umumiyye (Public Debt Administration) and European control over the Ottoman finances, a development that sealed the final doom of the empire, which the Young Ottomans had both foreseen and much dreaded. CONCLUSION

About three months before the Porte declared the partial suspension of interest payments, a debate that lasted hours took 231

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS place in the House of Commons on ‘the state of Turkey’. It seems that a consensus existed among the members of the house, be they pro-Turkish or anti-Turkish, that the Ottoman Empire was on the verge of financial bankruptcy, which, if not prevented by its ‘allies’, was bound to reopen the Eastern Question. The Turk had proved ‘a very apt pupil in learning how to charge the future with extravagance of the present’ and excelled in abusing external borrowing. The untapped wealth of the country had been left undeveloped and the services of the country were starved while the ruling class, starting with the sultan, squandered foreign loans for unproductive expenses. J. R. Yorke, MP for East Gloucestershire, suggested that Great Britain, which had ‘lent Turkey 100,000,000 sterling and sacrificed thousands of lives for her in the Crimean War’, was entitled to see that it got something in return for those sacrifices and without doubt had a right to tender advice to Turkey in a friendly spirit when it saw a national collapse threatening it.122 Mr Yorke’s plea for ‘friendly interference’ in the Ottoman Empire was enthusiastically backed by the rest of the speakers with the exception of Mr Bruce who asked in an agitated tone whether the house actually meant to undertake the government of Turkey. While the Commons was discussing Great Britain’s right to take matters into its own hands to sort out Turkey’s finances in order to secure long-term British interests in the Near East as well as the considerable amount of money that British bondholders had invested in Turkish loans, the Ottoman finance ministry was again in search of a short-term loan to meet the expenses of the civil list. In late July 1875, the BIO refused to make its usual monthly payment on account of the Civil List because it had already paid to the Palace in advance all the money it was authorized by the budget to provide, [and] … the Finance Ministry hurriedly procured the necessary funds from another source rather than allow Abdülaziz to confront the effects of his recklessness.123 232

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE In retrospect, the Young Ottomans seem justified in their outcry that the sultan’s governments had kept him in the dark about the actual state of the finances and the gravity of the crisis in the empire. As Clay correctly points out: to try to improve Ottoman credit on the Western money markets, and to satisfy the British and French ambassadors, Fuad [Pasha] presented the situation to the world in a much more favourable light than it deserved. It seems that he was not deceiving himself, and he did not deceive the outside world, but it seems he did deceive his sovereign, who consequently saw no good reason to exercise any particular economy.124 Mahmud Nedim’s grand vizierate, which commenced in late August 1875, marked the end of this characteristic Tanzimat tendency to conceal the real situation of the finances from the sultan. Mahmud Nedim, a strenuous critic of the Tanzimat who struggled to restore the centre of power to the palace and to create a ‘sultan of old times’ out of a Tanzimat sultan, did not hesitate to force Abdülaziz to face the truth. In 1861, about a decade before his first and short grand vizierate, Mahmud Nedim had written a treatise in which ‘he criticized the Tanzimat and advocated an alternative system of government rooted in an idealized concept of early Ottoman history, in it he saw the sultan as an all-powerful ruler who attended in person to the daily affairs of the state.’125 When appointed to office for the second time in late August 1875 Nedim saw his opportunity to practise those anti-Tanzimat principles and rushed to enlighten Abdülaziz on the actual state of his empire, starting with the financial crisis, which he had decided to resolve with a partial suspension of interest payments. He presented the sultan with a set of figures, which, by dint of double counting, was intended to make him believe that the government’s financial situation was even worse (and by 233

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS a large margin) than it really was – a diametrically opposite strategy to that of his predecessors who had always concealed the full extent of the difficulties from him.126 This was the kind of action the Young Ottomans would unanimously applaud, but, as they all realized with much disappointment, obliging the sultan to face the real situation was no longer enough to save the empire from bankruptcy. When he ascended to the throne a year later, Abdülaziz’s successor Abdülhamid II had no illusions about how desperate the financial situation had become and there was no question of his ministers keeping the true state of affairs from him. However, this did not help him prevent the establishment of the Public Debt Administration in 1881. By the time Nedim declared that the Porte would partially suspend the interest payment, it had become clear to the Europeans that the ‘sick man’ had had a final stroke that had irrevocably crippled his already ill but still functioning organs – the remedies applied so far to lengthen his life now proved abortive. The allies of the Ottoman Empire, especially Great Britain, whose traditional Near Eastern policy was to maintain the independence and territorial integrity of the Ottoman Empire, felt compelled to revise their existing policies and devise new measures to preserve their interests in the region. Ottoman default in 1875 strengthened the hand of radical Liberals in Great Britain who had long been criticizing the traditional British policy to bolster the Ottoman Empire at any expense on the ‘hollow assumption’ that Russia threatened British supremacy in the eastern Mediterranean. As a writer remarked in a widely circulated popular magazine just after the default: [The Porte’s suspension of the interest payment] dissolved in one moment the whole fabric of Turkish credit that financial adventurers of all classes have laboriously built up and maintained for the past twenty years; and it put an end 234

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE probably forever to the mania that has possessed the English public since the days when Palmerston persuaded it that the great mission of England was to keep the Turk on his European throne at any cost.127 Ottoman financial bankruptcy, in other words, provided the impetus as well as the publicity that the anti-Turkish quarters had needed to challenge the position and role that Great Britain along with its ally France had assumed up until that time in the ‘Great Game of the Eastern Question’. ‘It is true,’ concluded the same writer, ‘that for a long time the rule of the Turk has been tolerated in Europe merely because his expulsion would only open the way for questions too dangerous to be willingly faced’: but, for all that, a certain amount of goodwill was accorded to him by people in this country and in France. All that goodwill is now forfeited, and the lingering inclination to tolerate him will now give place to a more or less eager desire to find a solution of the problems which his presence has staved off, quite without regard to his interests. These predictions, which were to be borne out as the century progressed, pointed to a new stage in the history of the Eastern Question as well as the destiny of the Ottoman Empire. Concurrent with the Ottoman default, the Christian revolt in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1875, which was followed by the Bulgarian one in 1876, played a considerable role in rebuilding the image of the Turk in Europe as ‘the one great anti-human specimen of humanity’ as opposed to the once brave ally of Great Britain and France who chivalrously fought against the aggressive despotic Russian bear. The collapse of the Ottoman finances proved that the ‘vices’ of the Turk were beyond cure and, despite the strenuous endeavours of Europeans, particularly the British, to ‘civilize’ him, he remained ‘the same barbarous fanatical Bedouin at heart’ whose only ability was to oppress, plunder and pursue a parasitical life. His 235

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS rule in Europe, which had been tolerated in accordance with the dictates of the Eastern Question, seemed no longer feasible to British interests and it was time for this staunch ally of the Ottoman Empire to redefine its Near Eastern policy, which did not necessarily intend to please the Turk. Sultan Abdülhamid II had not only inherited a bankrupt empire from Abdülaziz but also had to deal with the shift in traditional British policy along with the new wave of an anti-Turkish crusade in Europe that accelerated towards the end of the century. Abdülhamid owed his throne to his pledge to support and maintain the newly founded parliament, the institution the Young Ottomans had initially vowed to establish and had set their hopes on it saving the empire from destruction. Things changed, however, since Mustafa Fazıl demanded usul-ü meşveret in his famous letter and invited Kemal, Ziya and Suavi to Paris to lead an opposition that would press upon the Porte and the palace for a change of regime. When the long-coveted usul-ü meşveret was eventually introduced, Kemal and Ziya, expectedly enough, took an active part in it while their former comrade Suavi, as an Urquhartite convert, embarked on anti-parliament agitation. Abdülhamid, however, had another plan in mind to save his bankrupt and crumbling empire, which did not include or tolerate any interference in his affairs from his subjects, be it critical or favourable. Urquhart’s and Suavi’s dream of an omnis potestas monarch that Ziya too shared to some extent and Mahmud Nedim had tried to realize during his grand vizierate, was about to come true. Before long it would turn into a nightmare for all the members of the small Young Ottoman group.

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5 Concluding Remarks __________________________

The Young Ottomans have been criticized for being unrealistic because of their belief that: a moral reinvigoration of the Ottoman state, and not merely an administrative overhaul, was obtainable without the need for any major concessions either to European secularist thinking in matters of law and individual rights or to those European notions of territorial sovereignty which already infused the political thinking of a good half of the sultan’s subjects.1 It is, indeed, hard to deny that this was not realistic after 1774, let alone 1839. However, this criticism overlooks the fact that a realistic approach to the predicaments of the Ottoman Empire in the nineteenth century, as generated by the Western critics of the Eastern Question, would inevitably conclude that the empire, in the age of nationalism and in the face of European rivalry in the Near East, was already doomed to perish. Had the Young Ottomans, like the later cadres of the Committee of Union and Progress that would also form the founding elite of the Turkish Republic, been convinced that the imperial days were over and that the Turks should content themselves with a relatively small, and ethnically and religiously homogenized nation-state, as their grandsons would, they would have developed a realistic approach. In the midnineteenth century, however, the Muslim-Turkish Ottomans had 237

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS not yet given up hope. They were believers in the empire and any major concessions to European secularist thinking or to those European notions of territorial sovereignty meant by definition the dissolution of that empire. Another criticism directed at the Young Ottomans is that they rejected a reformist policy that had attempted to countenance the interests of the Christian millets, on the grounds that they ‘were gavurs [non-believers] perversely refusing the light of Islam’.2 This assertion is not only untrue but also turns a blind eye to the social atmosphere in which the Young Ottoman opposition developed. As I discussed at length in this book, the reforms in many cases worked in favour of the non-Muslims, thanks to their European protectors. With this I by no means attempt to justify or whitewash a series of aggressive Muslim actions that occurred on some occasions towards the non-Muslim communities and that were motivated mainly by religious fanaticism. On the whole, however, it would be unjust and academically disputable to assert that the Muslims’ distaste for the reforms that served the interests of nonMuslims was due solely to Muslim hatred of gavurs. Moreover, such an approach is misleading in the case of the Young Ottomans. An in-depth analysis of the second half of the nineteenth-century Ottoman Empire in which the Young Ottoman movement appeared promises to give insights into the collective mind of twentieth-century Turkish society as well as the guiding principles of the republican Turkish state in its dealings with foreigners, with Europe and with its own non-Muslim citizens. Surprisingly, there is hardly any academic work that analyses the reactionary qualities of today’s Turkish Republic with reference to some specific facets of the turmoil the Ottoman Empire underwent during the nineteenth century. There are, in fact, many examples in which the impact of the Ottoman Turks’ traumatic experience with the ‘other’ in the nineteenth century can be detected clearly in the policies and reactions of the Turkish Republic. Is it possible to understand the motives behind such extreme measures as Varlık Vergisi (the Emergency Prosperity Tax) in 1942 238

CONCLUDING REMARKS without referring to the historical relations between the Ottoman state and its non-Muslim subjects? The declared aim of the VarlıkVergisi was to ‘nationalize the capital’ in Turkey. Prime Minister Saraçoğlu characterized the tax law as ‘a revolutionary law that would put an end to the dominance of non-Turkish elements in the Turkish economy and pass capital from them into Turkish hands’. According to the tax law, the citizens were divided into four parts: Muslims, non-Muslims, Dönmes (Muslims, formerly Christian or Jews) and foreigners. Non-Muslims, whose proportion in the Turkish population was 2 per cent, paid 53.5 per cent of the total amount of the tax. When Galanté, a historian and leading figure in the Jewish community, expressed the objections of the Jews about the tax and complained that it was an unequal and unfair measure, the chief of the inspection board responsible for collecting the tax replied that ‘this tax was not only about property but also about blood [emphasis mine]’. He stated that ‘Jews have not made any contribution to the Ottoman army; instead they accumulated capital and became rich while Muslims perished in the wars and lived in abject poverty.’ ‘I suggest’, he said, ‘that we should put the blood we shed on one side of the scales and the capital you saved on the other and see which side is heavier.’3 What is more, when a member of the Turkish Foreign Office ‘warned’ the prime minister Saraçoğlu about the possible protests of European states against the varlık vergisi, his reply was: ‘They cannot dare such an action. They no longer have the grand vizier of the Ottoman Empire before them.’4 Is it possible to explain the expulsion of Greek citizens from Turkish territory in 1964 when the Cyprus crisis broke out between Turkey and Greece without referring to the Porte’s plan to do exactly the same thing during the Cretan crisis of 1866–69? It is striking to see that 100 years later the Turkish government replicated the Porte’s justification for attempting to expel all Hellenic subjects from the sultan’s dominions. While the Ottoman government had been compelled to abandon such a measure, however, in the face of European pressure, the Turkish government 239

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS was determined to ‘keep the external intervention away’ from its business and went ahead with its decision. Is it possible to understand why foreigners were denied the right to own property in Turkey until 2003 without examining the conditions under which the firman of 1867 granting foreigners the right to hold landed property in the Ottoman Empire was promulgated? One could easily charge the Turks with xenophobia unless the traumatic experience of the capitulations the Turks inherited from the Ottomans was brought into the discussion. Although changes in the law were made in 2003 in accordance with Turkey’s application to join the European Union,5 the debate on the issue continues between the government and the Supreme Court, which recently vetoed the related changes.6 Is it possible, after all, to understand the problematic relations between the Turkish Republic and the European Union today without casting an eye on the position of the Ottoman Empire as the ‘sick man’ of Europe in the nineteenth century as well as its psychological effects on the Muslim-Turkish masses? Why does the European Union’s criticism of Turkey’s social, economic and political standards provoke such an outburst from the Turkish public? Why does the involvement of some European embassies in a Turkish NGO’s campaign to ‘modernize’ the Turkish criminal code alert the public and prompt such inflammatory articles in the newspaper columns?7 The answers to these questions, along with many others, lie in the eventful years of the nineteenth century Ottoman Empire history which I tried to discuss and analyse through the eyes of its key observers, namely the Young Ottomans in this book.

240

Notes ________

Introduction 1. 2. 3.

4.

5. 6.

7. 8.

9. 10.

Paul Auchterlonie, 2001, p. 8. Anonymous, What is to be Done with Turkey? Or Turkey, its Present and Future (London: Henry Colburn, 1850) p. 1. Morton A. Kaplan, ‘Balance of power, bipolarity and other models of international systems’, American Political Science Review, vol. 51, 1957, pp. 684– 695; Manus I. Midlarsky, ‘Equilibria in the nineteenth century balance of power system’, American Journal of Political Science, vol. 25, 1981, pp. 270–96; Martin Wight, ‘The balance of power’, in H. Butterfield and M. Wight (eds) Essays in the Theory of International Politics (London: Geoffrey Allen & Unwin, 1966) pp. 149–75. Frank Edgar Bailey, British Policy and the Turkish Reform Movement (London: Oxford University Press, 1942); Frederick Stanley Rodkey, ‘Lord Palmerston and the rejuvenation of Turkey, 1830–41 Part II’, Journal of Modern History, vol. 2, no. 2, 1930, pp. 193–225. Alan Cunningham, ‘The sick man and the British physician’, Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 7, no. 2, 1981, pp. 147–73. Alan Cunningham, ‘Stratford Canning and the Tanzimat’, in W. R. Polk and R. L. Chambers (eds) Beginnings of Modernization in the Middle East: The Nineteenth Century (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968). Inari Rautsi, The Eastern Question revisited: case studies in Ottoman balance of power (Helsinki: Helsinki University Printing House, 1993) p. 12. Benjamin Disraeli, The Letters of Disraeli to Lady Bradford and Lady Chesterfield, edited by the Marquis of Zetland (London: Ernest Benn, 1929) vol. 2, p. 73, first published 1877. George Earle Buckle (ed.) The Letters of Queen Victoria, second series, vol. 2, 1870–78 (London: John Murray, 1926) p. 455. To this should also be added the state of the Ottoman archives, where so many documents still remain either uncatalogued or closed to researchers. In some cases it seems practically impossible to narrate an incident sufficiently on the basis of the Ottoman documents, which provide very limited inform-

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11. 12. 13.

14. 15. 16.

242

ation. In the case of the Young Ottomans, for example, the only catalogued material that can be obtained from the Ottoman archives is a few documents containing information about the prohibition of the circulation of the Young Ottoman newspapers the Muhbir and the Hürriyet as well as some police records regarding Suavi’s unsuccessful attempt at Çırağan Palace. Likewise, in the case of the Cretan insurrection of 1866–69, only a limited number of correspondences between the Porte and the local authorities in Crete as well as the Ottoman legations abroad can be found. Needless to say they are by no means sufficient to enable the scholars to understand and portray the Cretan insurrection from the vantage point of the Ottomans. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962) p. 5. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 9. Orhan Türkdoğan ‘Üç Sosyal Bilimcimizin Düşünce Tarihimizdeki Yeri’, in N. G. Ergan, E. Burcu, B. Şahin and M. Kamanlıoğlu (eds) Türk Düşünce Geleneğinde Ziya Gökalp, Ziyaeddin Fahri Fındıkoğlu ve Hilmi Ziya Ülken (Ankara: Hacettepe Üniversitesi Yayınları, 2007) p. 123. Hilmi Yücebaş, Bütün Cepheleriyle Namık Kemal: Hayatı, Hatıraları, Şiirleri (İstanbul: Ahmet Halit Yaşaroglu Kitapçılık ve Kağıdçılık, 1959). Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 4. The debate between the two Turkish writers who both wrote on the most famous Young Ottoman, namely Namık Kemal in the early years of the Turkish republic stands as an illustrative example to this ‘slippery ground’ on which the discussions about the Young Ottomans were built at that time. Sadeddin Nüzhet, who published his first book in 1933 on the poetry of Namık Kemal, which included a commentary section on Namık Kemal’s thought, was severely attacked by another writer, Rıza Nur, who accused the first of distorting the facts in accordance with the instructions he had allegedly received from ‘some quarters’. Sadeddin Nüzhet defended himself by stating that his only intention had been to ‘reveal the facts about Namık Kemal in an academic and scientific form’ and that he ‘did not deserve to be denounced in the public eye’. (Rıza Nur, Namık Kemal (İskenderiye: no publisher, 1936) pp. 469, 470–3; Sadeddin Nüzhet Ergun, Namık Kemal’in Şiirleri (İstanbul: İnkılab Kitabevi, 1941) pp. xxvii–xlix.) Some Turkish writers argued that Namık Kemal was ‘not only against the Sultanate’ but also was ‘a born republican [cumhuriyetçi] who dreamed of realizing Plato’s republic in the whole world’, while a well-known Turkish pan-Turkist writer asserted that ‘one of the primary and principal conditions of being a Turkist nationalist is to read, know and feel Namık Kemal.’ (See Münir Süleyman Çapanoğlu, Basın Tarihine Dair Bilgiler ve Hatıralar (İstanbul: Hür Türkiye Dergisi Yayınları, 1962) pp. 116–119; Fethi Tevetoğlu, Naci (İstanbul: Milli Eğitim Basımevi,

NOTES

17. 18.

19. 20. 21.

22. 23.

24.

25.

1973) p. 27). Another well-known Turkist, Nihal Atsız remarked that ‘only the traitors could deny that Namık Kemal was the founder of the Turkish nationalism’ (Yücebaş Bütün Cepheleriyle, p. 74). The famous Islamist writer Peyami Safa, on the other hand, asserted that ‘Namık Kemal was by no means an advocate of Turkish nationalism but he was a great believer in Islamism’ (Kemal Tahir, Namık Kemal İçin Diyorlar ki (İstanbul: Şirket-i Mürebbiye Basımevi, 1936) p. 8). In the midst of all these ‘non-academic’ debates some scholars complained that it was virtually impossible to find any ‘objective’ study in the field analysing thoughts of Namık Kemal without either worshipping or severely censuring him (Mehmed Kaplan, Namık Kemal, Hayatı ve Eserleri (İstanbul: İstanbul Edebiyat Fakültesi Yayınları, 1948) pp. 4–5). Donald Quataert, The Ottoman Empire 1700–1922 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000) p. 58. He made specific proposals to this effect to the British government in 1844 and again in 1853. On the latter occasion he said to the British ambassador to St Petersburg, Sir Hamilton Seymour: ‘We have on our hands a sick man – a very sick man; it will be I tell you frankly, a great misfortune if one of these days he should slip away from us, especially before all necessary arrangements were made’ (quoted in Sir Harry Luke, The old Turkey and the new (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1955) p. 54, first published 1936). For the discussions later to become known as the Seymour Conversations, see M. S. Anderson, The Great Powers and the Near East 1772–1923 (London: Arnold, 1966) pp. 71–4. Palmerston to Beauvale, [Private] 25 August 1839, quoted in F. S. Rodkey, ‘Lord Palmerston and the rejuvenation of Turkey’, p. 202. Ibid., pp. 570–93. Cunningham, ‘Stratford Canning and the Tanzimat’, p. 245; Michael Warr, A Biography of Stratford Canning: Mainly his Career in Turkey (Oxford: Alden Press, 1989). Butrus Abu-Manneh, ‘The Islamic Roots of the Gulhane Rescript’, Die Welt des Islams, vol. 34, 1994, pp. 173–203. Suraiya Faroqhi, ‘In Search of the Ottoman History’, in H. Berktay and S. Faroqhi (eds) New Approaches to State and Peasant in Ottoman History (London: Frank Cass, 1992) p. 217. Roderic H. Davison, ‘Environmental and Foreign Contributions to the Political Modernization of Turkey’, in Robert E. Ward and Dankwart A. Rustow (eds) Political Modernization in Japan and Turkey (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964) p. 115. Mikhail Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, translated by C. Emerson and M. Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981) p. 280.

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27.

28. 29.

30. 31. 32.

33.

34. 35.

244

Samir Khalaf, ‘Communal Conflict in Nineteenth Century Lebanon’, in B. Braude and B. Lewis (eds) Christians and the Jews in the Ottoman Empire (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1982) vol. 2, pp. 107–34; Moshe Maoz, ‘Communal Conflicts in Ottoman Syria during the Reform Era: The Role of Political and Economic Factors’, in B. Braude and B. Lewis (eds) Christians and the Jews in the Ottoman Empire, 2 vols (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1982) vol. 2, pp. 91–105. David G. Grafton, The Christians of Lebanon: Political Rights in Islamic Law (London: I.B.Tauris, 2003) pp. 79–84; John P. Spagnolo, France and Ottoman Lebanon 1861–1914 (London: Ithaca Press, 1977) p. 35. Robert Redfield, Peasant Society and Culture: An Anthropological Approach to Civilization (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1956) p. 72. Şerif Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life in the Ottoman Empire in the Last Quarter of the Nineteenth Century’, in P. Benedict, E. Tümertekin and F. Mansur (eds) Turkey: Geographic and Social Perspectives (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1974) pp. 403–46. Ibid., p. 424. See PRO FO 78/1533 Reply to Questionnaire. Steven Rosenthal, ‘Minorities and the Municipal Reform in Istanbul 1850– 1870’, in B. Braude and B. Lewis (eds) Christians and the Jews in the Ottoman Empire (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1982) vol. 1, p. 373. Michael Mann argues that ‘over the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Western European states had followed a trajectory from absolutism to what is generally referred to as modern state. The distinctive features of this new mode of socio-political organization included a differentiated set of institutions manned by the state’s own personnel, whose authority radiates from an administrative centre to the limits of a territorially demarcated area. Within this territory, the ‘modern state’ seeks exclusive control over both the making of rules and the means of upholding those rules through the use of physical violence. ‘Modern states’ were better suited to extract taxes and to mobilize their populations into standing armies, particularly as they developed infrastructural power – ‘the capacity of the state actually to penetrate civil society, and to implement logistically political decisions throughout the realm.’ (Michael Mann, ‘The Autonomous Power of the State: Its Origins, Mechanisms and Results’, Archives Européennes de Sociologie, vol. 25, 1984, pp. 185–213; Eugene Rogan Frontiers of the State in the Late Ottoman Empire: Transjordan 1850–1921 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999) p. 3. F. Müge Göçek, Rise of the Bourgeoisie, Demise of Empire: Ottoman Westernization and Social Change (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996) p. 81. The famous poet Nazım Hikmet suggested in 1936 that ‘Namık Kemal who was introduced by the Turkish state as the greatest patriot and the lover of

NOTES

36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46.

47.

48. 49.

masses had in fact strived for the cause of newly emerging bourgeoisie only’ (Kemal Tahir, Namık Kemal, p. 31). Daryush Shayegan, Cultural Schizophrenia: Islamic Societies Confronting the West, translated by J. Howe (London: Saqi Books, 1992) p. 9. Ibid., p. 8. Şerif Mardin, ‘Super Westernization’. Redfield, Peasant Society and Culture, pp. 70, 72. Şerif Mardin, ‘Super Westernization’, p. 428. Ibid., p. 425. Ibid., p. 426. I use the term ‘symbolic capital’ in a Bourdieuan sense that ‘refers to [the] degree of accumulated prestige, celebrity, consecration of honour and is founded on a dialectic of knowledge and recognition’. Bourdieu argues that, ‘like economic capital, the other forms of capital’, (including the symbolic one) ‘are unequally distributed among social classes and class fractions. Although the different forms of capital may be mutually convertible under certain circumstances, they are not reducible to each other. Possession of economic capital does not necessarily imply possession of cultural or symbolic capital, and vice versa.’ (Randal Johnson (ed.) ‘Editor’s Introduction’, in Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993) p. 7). Şerif Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life’, p. 428. Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production. Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft, translated by P. Putnam (New York: Vintage Books, 1965) p. 185. As Marc Bloch points out, ‘men who are born into the same social environment about the same time necessarily come under analogous influences, particularly in their formative years. Experience proves that, by comparison with either considerably older or considerably younger groups, their behaviour reveals certain distinctive characteristics that are ordinarily very clear. This is true even of their bitterest disagreements. To be excited by the same dispute even on opposing sides, is still to be alike. This common stamp, deriving from common age, is what makes a generation.’ In this sense I use the term ‘generation’ here in a way that refers to both the Tanzimat ruling elite as well as their opponents, including the Young Ottomans. Maureen Whitebrook, Identity, Narrative and Politics (London: Routledge, 2001) pp. 135–40, quoted in Kenan Çayır, Islamic Literature in Contemporary Turkey: From Epic to Novel (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007) p. 89. Çayır, Islamic Literature, p. 89. Habitus in the Bourdieuan sense refers to ‘socially constituted and acquired systems of predispositions that generate perception, appreciation, and action.’ ‘The principle of historical action – that of the artist, of the scientist

245

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50.

51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

61.

246

or the politician no less than that of the factory worker or of the low-level bureaucrat – is not found in a subject who would confront society in the manner of an object constituted in externality. It resides neither in consciousness nor in things but in the relation between two states of the social, that is between history objectified in things, in the form of institutions, and history incarnate in the body, in the form of that system of durable dispositions I call habitus’ (Pierre Bourdieu, In Other Words: Essays Toward a Reflexive Sociology, translated by M. Adamson, (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990) pp. 91 and 190). Bourdieu developed the concept of habitus in his search to find a middle ground on theoretical issues of structure and agency. Thus, the concept of habitus to escape from structuralist objectivism without relapsing into subjectivism (ibid., p. 61). In other words, in his search to redefine the role of ‘structure’ and ‘agency’, Bourdieu instrumentalizes the notion of habitus. ‘My whole effort aims at explaining, via the notion of habitus, how it is that behaviour (economic or other) takes the form of sequences that are objectively guided towards a certain end, without necessarily being the product either of a conscious strategy or of a mechanical determination’ (ibid., p. 90). Daniel Simeoni, ‘The Pivotal Status of the Translator’s Habitus’, Target, vol. 10, no. 1, 1998, p. 23, quoted in Şehnaz Tahir Gürçağlar, The Politics and Poetics of Translation in Turkey 1923–1960 (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2008) p. 45. In applying the Bourdieuan concept of habitus to my analysis of the Young Ottoman opposition, I draw on Şehnaz Tahir Gürçağlar’s work, for she covers culture planning and translation politics in early republican Turkey through Bourdieuan philosophy. Göçek, Rise of the Bourgeoisie, p. 81. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 111. Ibid., p. 124. Shayegan, Cultural Schizophrenia, p. 22. Kenneth B. Pyle, The New Generation in Meiji Japan: Problems of Cultural Identity 1885–1895 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1969) p. 20. Ibid., p. 79. Ibid., pp. 19, 83. Ibid., p. 54. Ibid., p. 192. Kemal Karpat, ‘The Mass Media: Turkey’, in Robert E. Ward and Dankwart A. Rustow (eds) Political Modernization in Japan and Turkey (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964) Chapter 6, p. 261. See Anonymous, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, 22 Muharrem 1286/3 May 1869, no. 45; and Kemal, Namık, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 52, 11 Rebiülevvel 1286/21 June 1869.

NOTES 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

68. 69.

70. 71. 72.

73. 74. 75. 76.

Shayegan, Cultural Schizophrenia, pp. 4, 18. Ibid., p. 4. Partha Chatterjee, The Nation and its Fragments: Colonial and Postcolonial Histories (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993) p. 6. Ibid., p. 132. Ziya Bey, ‘Karınca Kanatlandı’, Hürriyet, no. 35, 10 Zilkade 1285/22 February 1869. On the verge of the complete dissolution of the Young Ottoman group in Europe in 1870, Ziya Bey, as the editor of the Hürriyet, was still at pains to give the impression that Young Ottoman society had large grass-roots support that could keep it alive, even though some members at the headquarters in Europe had severed themselves from the movement. Correspondence from Istanbul that appeared in the Hürriyet in late January 1870, after giving an account of the Porte’s efforts to extinguish Young Ottoman society by splitting the Young Ottomans in Europe, declared that the Porte’s action was foolish and futile because, contrary to the Porte’s belief, Young Ottoman society was not composed of only those three or four men in Europe. See Ziya Bey, ‘Fi Şevval Tarihiyle İstanbul’dan Tahrirat’, Hürriyet, no. 83, 22 Şevval 1286/24 January 1870. Ebuzziya Tevfik, Yeni Osmanlılar Tarihi, translated by Z. Ebuzziya, (İstanbul: Kervan Yayınları, 1973) first published 1909–11. Urquhart’s Diplomatic Review claimed that the author of the letter was the Wallachian journalist Gregory Ganesco. See Anonymous, ‘Reform in Turkey’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 24, no. 3, July 1876, p. 159. For the text of the letter as well as for a discussion on the identity of its author see (Roderic H. Davison, Reform in the Ottoman Empire 1856–1876, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963) pp. 202–4). Midhat Cemal Kuntay, Namık Kemal: Devrinin İnsanları ve Olayları Arasında, 2 vols (İstanbul: Maarif Matbaası, 1944–57). Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 54. This biographical sketch of Namık Kemal has been written on the basis of information culled from Kuntay, Namık Kemal; Kaplan, Namık Kemal; Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought; and M. Nihat Özön, Namık Kemal ve İbret Gazetesi (İstanbul: Remzi Kitabevi, 1938). Kaplan, Namık Kemal, p. 40. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 66. Ibid., p. 77. For examples of those letters of gratitude, see Namık Kemal to Abdülhamid II Başbakanlık Osmanlı Arşivi [BOA]/Yıldız Esas Evrakı [Y.E.E] 40/74 11 Cemaziyelahir 1297/20 May 1880, Y.E.E 40/77 5 Rebiülevvel 1298/4 February 1881 and Y.E.E 40/62 24 Cemaziyelahir 1298/23 May 1881.

247

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77.

78. 79.

80.

81. 82. 83. 84.

85. 86. 87. 88. 89.

248

Kemal was also granted a series of distinction medals by Abdülhamid II between 1881 and 1886. This biographical sketch of Ziya Bey has been culled from M. Kaya Bilgegil, Ziya Paşa Üzerinde Bir Araştırma, 2nd edn (Ankara: Atatürk Üniversitesi Yayınları, 1979); Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought; and Mehmed Nazım Paşa, Nazım Paşa’nın Anıları (İstanbul: Arba Yayınevi, 1992). Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 338. In his petition to the Foreign Office, Ottoman Ambassador Musurus Paşa stated that the sole object of the Turkish newspapers Hürriyet and the previous Muhbir was ‘to provoke a revolution against the reform attempts in the Ottoman Empire by exploiting the ignorance and religious feelings of the Muslims’. ‘If the propagandist activities of the Hürriyet continued’, Musurus argued, ‘not only the modernizing projects of Turkish reformists but also their lives would be endangered.’ See Public Record Office [PRO] Foreign Office [FO] 78/3197–5210, Musurus to Clarendon, 19 January 1870, reproduced in Bilgegil, Ziya Paşa, p. 334. As the editor of the Hürriyet, Ziya Bey was taken into custody on 26 February and the judge remanded him until 5 March but also granted a bail of £200. Ziya Bey did not appear in court for the next hearing; instead he sent a letter from Geneva to the Home Office in which he defended himself, protested at the ill-treatment to which he had been exposed during his arrest and trial and explained the reasons that led to his escape. See PRO FO 78/3197–5210 or 78/2557–4776, Home Office [HO], 27 April 1870, Extract of Letter from Zia Bey. This biographic sketch of Ali Suavi is mainly based on Hüseyin Çelik, Ali Suavi ve Dönemi (İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 1994); and Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought). Namık Kemal, ‘Tefrika’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 454, 18 Ramazan 1283/12 Kanunisani 1867. Çelik, Ali Suavi ve Dönemi, p. 294. Ibid., pp. 299–301, 307–8. Ali Suavi, ‘Tard-ü Tağrib’, Sadakat, no. 68, 27 January 1877; Ali Suavi, ‘Vakit Müdiri Efendiye’, Vakit, no. 460, 8 February 1877; Ali Suavi, ‘Vakit Müdiri Efendiye’, Vakit, no. 462, 10 February 1877; Ali Suavi, ‘Vakit Müdiri Efendiye’, Vakit, no. 463, 11 February 1877. Çelik, Ali Suavi ve Dönemi, pp. 301–7. Yahya Akyüz, ‘Galatasaray Lisesinin Islahına İlişkin Ali Suavi’nin Girişimlerini Gösteren Bir Belge’, Belleten, vol. 46, 1982, pp. 122–9. PRO FO 78/2590, Layard to Lord Derby, 2 November 1877. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 364. David Urquhart, Familiar Words as Affecting the Character of Englishmen and the Fate of England (London: Trubner & Company, 1855) p. 177.

NOTES 90.

91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96.

97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102.

103.

Urquhart Papers [UP], Balliol College, Oxford, Agâh Bey to David Urquhart [original letter in French was translated into English by the author], 12 August 1867, Box no. 7, IC11. Gertrude Robinson, David Urquhart: Some Chapters in the Life of a Victorian Knight-Errant of Justice and Liberty (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1920). For the correspondence between Margaret Urquhart and Herbert Taylor about David Urquhart’s reports from the East, which the latter transmitted to the king and the foreign secretary Lord Palmerston, see UP, Taylor to M. Urquhart, 26 April 1831, 27 May 1831, 19 July 1831, Box no. 7, ID1, C.64. PRO FO 352/24A, Urquhart to Stratford Canning, 8 February 1832. UP, Margaret Urquhart to George Hunter, 29 March 1832, Box no. 7 ID1 C.64. David Urquhart, ‘Biographic Sketch of Mr Urquhart from the Conversations-Lexicon’, The Portfolio, vol. 1, no. 6, 1844, pp. 218–19. In the 1830s it became clear that ‘the evolution of trade was slowly transforming the economic relationship of Russia and Great Britain from the complementary one which might foster amity into an antagonistic one which might have an opposite influence upon their general intercourse. … In England several analyses of the trade of the Black Sea were published, … and Urquhart’s commercial mission was only one of the several investigations of the commercial opportunities of the Near East undertaken by the [British] government during the decade’ (John Howes Gleason, The Genesis of Russophobia in Great Britain (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1950) p. 170). For Urquhart’s secret mission and the travel plans see PRO FO 78/249, Urquhart to Backhouse, 12 August 1833. David Urquhart, ‘Biographic Sketch’, p. 219. PRO FO 78/239, Taylor to Urquhart, 3 March 1834. PRO FO 78/249/5, Backhouse to Urquhart, 5 March 1834 and FO 78/249/7, Palmerston to Urquhart, November 1834. John H. Gleason, The Genesis of Russophobia, pp. 179–80. Ibid., pp. 164–204. Richard Shannon, ‘David Urquhart and the Foreign Affairs Committees’, in P. Hallis (ed.) Pressure from Without in Early Victorian England (London: Edward Arnold, 1974) p. 239. Urquhart induced Anstey, MP for Youghal, at the beginning of 1848 to introduce a motion in parliament about the ‘traitorous course’ taken by Palmerston with regard to Balta Limanı. For details of the motion that caused Urquhart to be stigmatized as a ‘monomaniac’, see Charges Against Viscount Palmerston by Mr Anstey, Commons, 23 February 1848, Hansard’s Parliamentary Debates [HPD], 3rd Series, XCVI, cols. 1132–1241.

249

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 104. 105. 106.

107.

108. 109. 110. 111. 112.

113. 114.

115.

116. 117. 118. 119.

250

David Urquhart, The Lebanon (Mount Syria), vols 1–2 (London: Thomas Coutley Newby, 1860). BOA HR. MKT 34/93 10 Şevval 1266/21 June 1850. Urquhart was insistent that the sultan and grand vizier Reşid Paşa were ready to grant the audience, but Canning avoided seeing Urquhart and approving his ‘unusual application’. See UP, Urquhart to Canning, January 1851, Pera; Canning to Urquhart, 4 January 1851, Pera; Canning to Urquhart, 22 January 1851, Pera; Urquhart to Canning, 23 January 1851, Box no. 7, IC10. Asa Briggs, ‘David Urquhart and the West Riding Foreign Affairs Committees’, Bradford Antiquary, vol. 39, 1958, pp. 206–7; Richard Shannon, ‘David Urquhart and the Foreign Affairs Commitees’, p. 261. Robinson, David Urquhart, p. 247. Ali Suavi, ‘Basiret Gazetesi’ne’, Basiret, no. 2114, 6 June 1877. UP, Wells to Urquhart, 8 October 1867, Box no. 7 IC12. Çelik, Ali Suavi ve Dönemi, p. 113. Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 34, 13 May 1868. Suavi did not mention Urquhart by name in his story but there can be little doubt that he was referring to them. Suavi to Wells, 27 August 1868, reproduced in Charles Wells, Literature of the Turks: A Turkish Chrestomaty (London: Bernard Quatritch, 1891) pp. 264–5. Suavi believed that the Ottoman legations abroad were replete with Greeks who were incapable of defending the rights of the empire as strongly as was needed. It is very likely that he was alluding to Photiades Bey, the Ottoman ambassador in Athens as well as Musurus Paşa, the Ottoman minister in London, who were Greeks (Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 15, 14 Şaban 1284/11 December 1867). ‘We’, Suavi wrote, ‘are the Ottomans’, ‘the Ottoman Empire belongs to us, and we have a perfect right to criticize the wrongdoings in our fatherland.’ ‘But you anti-Ottoman Europeans do not ever think that we are in the same front with you! We will never lend ourselves to join hands with you in attacking our country’ (Ali Suavi, ‘Paristen Bir Müslüman Mektubu’, Le Mukhbir, no. 17, 25 December 1867; Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 47, 31 August 1868). Suavi, ‘Paristen Bir Müslüman Mektubu’. Kemal Namık, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 12, 26 Cemaziyelevvel 1285/14 September 1868. S. G. B. St Clair, Twelve Years’ Study of the Eastern Question (London: Chapman & Hall, 1877) p. 300. Karl Marx, The Eastern Question: A Reprint of Letters Written in 1853–1856 Dealing with the Events of the Crimean War, edited by Eleanor Marx Aveling and Edward Aveling (London: Frank Cass, 1969) first published 1897, p. 25.

NOTES 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134.

135.

UP, Urquhart to Abdülhamid II, November 1876 [originally in French], Box no. 7 IC14. Shannon, ‘David Urquhart’, p. 246. A. J. P. Taylor, The Trouble Makers: Dissent over Foreign Policy 1792–1939 (London: Panther, 1969) p. 43. David Newsome, The Victorian World Picture: Perceptions and Introspections in an Age of Change (London: John Murray, 1997) p. 104. Asa Briggs, Victorian People: A Reassessment of Persons and Themes 1851–1867 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1955) p. 63. Ibid., p. 63. Henry Mayers Hyndman, The Record of an Adventurous Life (London: Macmillan, 1911) p. 74. Walter E. Houghton, The Victorian Frame of Mind (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1957) p. 162. Ibid., p. 77. Ibid., p. 79. David Urquhart, The Spirit of the East, 2 vols (London: Henry Colburn, 1838) vol. 2, p. 375. Houghton, The Victorian Frame of Mind, p. 101. Michael Mann, ‘The Autonomous Power of the State’, pp. 185–213. Davison, ‘Environmental and Foreign Contributions’, p. 111. Carter Vaughn Findley, Bureaucratic Reform in the Ottoman Empire: The Sublime Porte 1789–1922 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980) p. 386. For examples of correspondence between Rustem Bey and David Urquhart See UP, Urquhart to Rüstem, 4 May 1867, Nice, Box no. 17, IL 2 and Rüstem to Urquhart, 23 May 1867, Florence, Box no. 7, IC 12 in which Rüstem says ‘I received this morning a letter of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Fuad Pacha in which he says: ‘Please express to Mr Urquhart the sincere thanks of the Sublime Porte for his loyal cooperation and his simpatic [sic] feelings.’ I am happy in transmitting to you these [sic] expression of the gratitude of my government.’ For Urquhart’s request from Rüstem Bey to transmit his letters to Âli Paşa and Fuad Paşa See UP, Urquhart to Rüstem, 20 May 1867, Nice, Box no. 17, IL, Urquhart to Rüstem, 14 June 1869, Box no. 17, IL 2/13, Urquhart to Rüstem, 17 October 1869, Box no. 17, I, Rüstem to Urquhart, 3 May 1869, Florence, Box no. 18, IL 7 and Rüstem to Urquhart, 10 June 1867, Florence, Box no. 7, IC 12, in which Rüstem Bey says: ‘I have translated in one of my letters to F. P. all you say and ask me to say to him.’

251

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 2. Teaching Unruly Greeks a Lesson and Saving the Sultan’s Honour: The Cretan Insurrection of 1866–69 1.

2.

3. 4.

5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14.

15. 16. 17.

252

R. C. Anderson, Naval Wars in the Levant 1559–1853 (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1952); Hüseyin Kâmil Hanyavi, Girid Tarihi (İstanbul: no publisher, 1288/1872); Midhat Işın, Tarihte Girid ve Türkler (İstanbul: T. C. Askeri Deniz Matbaası, 1945). A. F. Yule, A Little Light on Cretan Insurrection (London: John Murray, 1879) pp. 37–40. Also see Dickson to Lyons, 28 April 1866, Parliamentary Papers, House of Commons [PPHC], 1867, LXXIV, Correspondence respecting the Disturbances in Crete [CDC], 1866–67, pp. 129–30. Clarendon to Lyons, 2 July 1866, PPHC-CDC, 1867, LXXIV, p. 608. Lyons to Clarendon, 19 June 1866, British and Foreign State Papers, [BFSP] 1866–67, LVII, Correspondence relative to Disturbances in Crete [CDC] p. 604. Hammond to Ionides, 2 August 1866, PPHC-CDC, 1867, LXXIV, p. 609. Kenneth Bourne, ‘Great Britain and the Cretan Revolt, 1866–1869’, The Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 35, no. 84, 1956, p. 76. Mehmed Salahi, Girid Meselesi 1866–1889, edited by Münir Aktepe (İstanbul: Edebiyat Fakültesi Matbaası, 1967) pp. 5–8. Fane to Stanley, 24 January 1867, BFSP-CDC 1866–68, p. 639. Stanley to Lyons, 6 September 1866, BFSP-CDC 1866–1869, p. 619 and Fane to Stanley, 5 September 1866, BFSP-CDC 1866–1868, p. 622. Kenneth Bourne, ‘Great Britain and the Cretan Revolt’, p. 79. Stanley to Cowley, 13 March 1867, BFSP-CDC 1866–1867, LVII, p. 644. PRO FO 286/240 Lyons to Stanley, 22 August 1866. PRO FO 286/240 Dickson to Lyons, 17 September 1866 and Dickson to Erskine, 20 September 1866. Also see Erskine to Stanley, 20 September 1866, BFSP-CDC 1866–1867, LVII, p. 626 and Lyons to Stanley, 29 September 1866, ibid., p. 627. For detailed accounts on the battle of Arkadi see PRO FO 286/240, Dickson to Erskine, 26 November 1866, PRO FO 286/240, Dickson to Erskine (translation of the letter from Captain Andrea Andrulidaki to his wife), 3 December 1866 and PRO FO 286/240 Lyons to Stanley, 5 December 1866. Lyons to Stanley, 29 March 1867, BFSP-CDC 1866–1867, LVII, p. 652 and PRO FO 286/240 Lyons to Stanley, 28 November 1866. Lyons to Stanley, 5 April 1867, BFSP-CDC 1866–1867, LVII, p. 651. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 458, 7 Şevval 1283/31 January 1867. ‘Moderation’ was indeed the word that Âli Paşa heard most during his conversations with the foreign ambassadors regarding the Cretan insur-

NOTES

18. 19. 20.

21.

22. 23. 24.

25.

26. 27. 28. 29. 30.

rection. Even Lord Lyons expressed on several occasions that the British cabinet expected the Porte to show moderation towards the Cretans. In reply to this Âli Paşa announced that ‘the Porte had already shown the greatest moderation in dealing with the Cretans and even the Hellenic officers taken in arms had been treated with indulgence. Instead of putting them to death, as he would have had a perfect right to do, Mustafa Paşa had contented himself with sending them as prisoners to Constantinople. Here they were, as Lord Lyons very well knew, treated with kindness.’ PRO FO 286/240 Lyons to Stanley, 7 November 1866 and PRO FO 286/240 Lyons to Stanley, 28 November 1866. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 26. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 458, 7 Şevval 1283/31 January 1867. Namık Kemal elaborated this argument in his answer to a reader who accused him of advocating the use of violence in international affairs as well as in the oppression of the weak. He emphasized that although he personally did not agree with either the use of violence or worship of the sword, he believed that the sword in the last analysis was the only arbitrator that could resolve problems between states. Kemal, Namık, ‘No Title’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 431, 16 Cemaziyelahir 1283/13 October 1866. Namık Kemal, ‘Bend-i Mahsus-Girid Meselesine Dair’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 423, 14 Cemaziyelevvel 1283/12 September 1866. Ali Suavi too was an adherent of the use of the sword against foreign powers that violated the rights of Ottomans and blamed the Porte for not using it when circumstances demanded it most (Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 14, 1 Şaban 1284/28 November 1867). Namık Kemal, ‘Bend-i Mahsus-Girid Meselesine Dair’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 423, 14 Cemaziyelevvel 1283/12 September 1866. Ibid. See the memorandum addressed to the Sultan by Âli Paşa from Crete in 1869 in Engin Deniz Akarlı, Belgelerle Tanzimat (İstanbul: Dergâh Yayınları, 1984) pp. 9–16. Kemal, ‘Bend-i Mahsus-Girid Meselesine Dair’; Namık Kemal, ‘Kurye D’Orian’da Görülen Makalenin Me’alidir’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 462, 22 Şevval 1283/15 February 1867. Kemal, ‘Bend-i Mahsus-Girid Meselesine Dair’. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 425, 22 Cemaziyelevvel 1283/20 September 1866. Ibid. Kemal, ‘Bend-i Mahsus-Girid Meselesine Dair’. Kemal, ‘No Title’, 20 September 1866.

253

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 31. 32. 33. 34.

35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40.

41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49.

254

Namık Kemal, ‘Terakki Gazetesi’nde Görülen Bendin Hülasa-i Mealidir’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 459, 12 Şevval 1283/5 February 1867. Namık Kemal, ‘Şark Meselesine Dair Bir Layihadır’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 465, 4 Zilkade 1283/28 February 1867. Ibid. Since Serbia had become a quasi-independent province in 1826, the Ottoman Empire had maintained a garrison in the Belgrade fortress. However, the Serbs had constantly complained about the Turkish presence in the fortress and in 1867 they had suggested that either the fortress should be demolished or the Turkish garrison withdrawn, for it was a mark of subjugation and a constant source of irritation to Serbia. Lord Stanley, though he rejected any interference by the British government, intimated that ‘the interest of Turkey lay in making a friend rather than an opponent of Serbia’ See HPD, 3rd Series, CLXXXVI, House of Lords, 28 March 1867, col. 722. The Porte thus agreed to cede the fortress of Belgrade on condition that the Ottoman flag would continue to float upon them together with the Serbian flag as an indicator of the Sultan’s de jure suzerainty. See Firman of the Sultan of Turkey relative to the Evacuation of Serbian Fortresses by the Turks, 5 Zilhicce 1283, BFSP 1870–71, LXI, p. 1065. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 26. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Stanley, 18 May 1867. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Stanley, 20 May 1867. Also see the ciphered telegram from Lyons to Stanley, 28 May 1867. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Stanley, 4 June 1867. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Hammond, 10 June 1867. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Stanley, 3 June 1867. Also see Lyons to Stanley, 28 May 1867, Lyons to Stanley 31 May 1867 and Foreign Office to Colonial and War Office, 1 June 1867. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Stanley, 4 June 1867. PRO FO 78/2010, Lyons to Stanley, 4 June 1867. Ruzname-i Ceride-i Havadis, no. 658, 20 Muharrem 1284/23 May 1867; and Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 486, 23 Muharrem 1284/27 May 1867. Ruzname-i Ceride-i Havadis, no. 660, 22 Muharrem 1283/25 May 1867. Stanley to Cowley, 13 May 1867, Stanley to Cowley, 15 May 1867 and Stanley to Cowley, 23 May 1867, BFSP, LVII, pp.667, 669 and 672–4. Bourne, ‘Great Britain and the Cretan Revolt’, p. 86. Stanley to Lyons, 3 June 1867 and Stanley to Cowley, 1 June 1867, BFSP, LVII, pp. 680–2. Lyons to Stanley, 5 June 1867 and Lyons to Stanley, 7 June 1867, BFSP, LVII, pp. 684–8. Cowley to Stanley, 14 June 1867, BFSP, LVII, pp. 686–7.

NOTES 50. 51. 52.

53. 54.

55. 56.

57. 58. 59.

60.

Lyons to Stanley, 23 June 1867, BFSP, LVII, pp. 695–6. Ali Kemali Aksüt, Sultan Aziz’in Mısır ve Avrupa Seyahatleri (İstanbul: Ahmet Sertoğlu Kitabevi, 1944). There are some interesting as well as amusing details about the first part of the journey in the diary kept by Ömer Faiz Efendi, the mayor of Istanbul. The sultan, who suffered from extreme fear of water, became frightened when the yacht was caught by a storm in the middle of the Mediterranean. He immediately ordered the captain to go back to Istanbul, and no one in his company was able to persuade him that there was no danger of sinking. Eventually, Fuad Pasa, having repeatedly explained the great importance of the journey for the ‘image and prestige of the Ottoman Empire’, defiantly stated that before His Majesty ordered the return to Istanbul, he would have to have his foreign minister killed on deck. For the diary entitled Avrupa Ruznamesi, see Midhat Cemal Kuntay, Sultan Abdülaziz’in Avrupa Seyahati (İstanbul: Boğaziçi Yayınları, 1991). Bedii Şehsuvaroğlu, ‘Sultan Abdülaziz’in Avrupa Seyahati’, Belgelerle Türk Tarihi Dergisi, vol. 1, 1967, pp. 41–51. Rüstem Bey, who headed diplomatic missions in Russia, Italy and England, was one of the non-Muslim subjects who were employed in the Ottoman foreign ministry. Although originally a Roman Catholic, Rüstem Bey was known as an ‘Italian renegade’, but, as Findley points out, there seems to be no indication of actual conversion to Islam even after he took a Muslim name and was employed as ambassador (Findley, Bureaucratic Reform, p. 386). UP, Rüstem to Urquhart, 23 May 1867, Florence, Box no. 7, IC 12. For Urquhart’s request from Rüstem to transmit his letters to Fuad Paşa and Ali Paşa see UP, Urquhart to Rüstem, 20 May 1867, Nice, Box no. 17, IL 2; UP, Urquhart to Rüstem, 14 June 1869, Box no. 17, IL 2/13; UP, Urquhart to Rüstem, 17 October 1869, Box no. 17, I; UP, Rüstem to Urquhart, 3 May 1869, Florence, Box no. 18, IL 7 and UP, Rüstem to Urquhart, 10 June 1867, Florence, Box no. 7, IC 12, in which Rüstem says: ‘ I have translated in one of my letters to F.P all you say and ask me to say to him.’ UP, Urquhart to Rüstem, Nice, 4 May 1867, Box no. 17, IL 2. William E. Gladstone, Bulgarian Horrors and the Question of the East (London: John Murray, 1876). Duke of Argyll, Our Responsibilities for Turkey, 1896, pp. 19–21, 36–8, quoted in Elie Kedorie, England and the Middle East: The Destruction of the Ottoman Empire 1914–1921 (London: Bowes & Bowes, 1956) p. 20. See Musurus’s letter informing the Porte about Lord Argyll’s pro-Cretan activities in the Lords, BOA I.MTZ.GR 10/256, 3 Zilkade 1283/10 March 1867.

255

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

68.

69.

70.

71. 72.

256

HPD, 3rd Series, CLXXXVIII, House of Lords, 20 June 1867, col. 158. Ibid., col. 173. Ibid., col. 159. Ibid., col. 173. Sultan Abdülhamid, Siyasi Hatıratım (İstanbul: Dergâh Yayınları, 1984). Also see The Times, 2 July 1867, p. 12. Fane to Stanley, 10 July 1867, BFSP, LVII, p. 700. In fact, before Sultan Abdülaziz, his predecessor, Sultan Abdülmecid, was granted the decoration of Garter in 1856 in Istanbul. After the historic alliance between Great Britain and the Ottoman Empire in Crimea, the Foreign Office authorized Stratford Canning to carry out the procedure and after long and confidential negotiations Sultan Abdülmecid agreed to be the first Muslim Knight of Garter. (W. E. Mosse, ‘The Return of Reschid Pasha: An Incident in the career of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe’, The English Historical Review, vol. 68, no. 269, 1953, pp. 555–7) However, since the ceremony did not take place in its usual place and in the presence of the queen, the queen must have felt compelled for a repetition by conferring the Garter in 1867 upon Sultan Abdülmecid’s brother. We know that the Young Ottomans too were aware of Urquhart’s Turkish bath in London and occasionally attended it. See Namık Kemal to Mustafa Asım Bey [his father], August 1867, reproduced in Fevziye Abdullah Tansel, Namık Kemal’in Mektupları (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1967–69) vol. 1, p. 106. Almost a decade after the sultan’s audience at Buckingham Palace, Crawshay visited Turkey and told the Turkish officers with whom he made friends how and why they presented an address to the sultan. ‘The reason we did this’, he said, ‘was because, at that time, there were many newspapers writing, and many people talking with the object of inducing the sultan to give up his rights; we knew there was no fear of the Sultan’s power to maintain his rights, but we dreaded these evil councils, and thought that perhaps a voice in another sense might not be without value.’ Mr Crawshay, ‘Speech at the Newcastle Foreign Affairs Association, 22 December 1874’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 23, no. 1, January 1875, p. 88. Foreign Affairs Committee, ‘The Sultan and the Foreign Affairs Committees’, Diplomatic Review, 7 August 1867, p. 120. For the Turkish and French versions of the address see Foreign Affairs Committee, ‘Address from the Foreign Affairs Committees to the Sultan’, supplement, Diplomatic Review, 4 September 1867, pp. 1–2. Foreign Affairs Committee, ‘The Foreign Affairs Committees and the Decision of the Sublime Porte’, Diplomatic Review, 3 February 1869, pp. 18–20. Foreign Affairs Committee, ‘The Sultan and the Foreign Affairs Committees’, p. 120. It was probably thanks to the impression he made on

NOTES

73. 74.

75.

76. 77. 78. 79.

80.

the sultan during this audience that some time later Wells was invited to Istanbul to teach at the Imperial Naval College where he worked as an English instructor between 1869 and 1873. See Harold Bowen, British Contributions to Turkish Studies (London: Longman & Company, 1945) pp. 54– 5; Charles Wells, A Practical Grammar of the Turkish Language (London: Bernard Quatrich, 1880). UP, Rüstem to Urquhart, 14 July 1867, London, (in French), Box no. 7, IC 12. For an example proving that Rüstem acted as intermediary between Urquhart and Fuad Paşa, see UP, Rüstem to Urquhart, 3 December 1867, Florence, Box no. 7, IC 12, in which he wrote: ‘I was very anxious in not receiving for so long a period any letter from you and not knowing where to find you, had addressed my last letter, including a letter from Fuad Pacha, to the Turkish bath in Jermyn Street.’ Foreign Affairs Committee, ‘The Foreign Affairs Committees and the Decision of the Sublime Porte’, pp. 18–20. In his letter to Urquhart, dated 20 June 1867, the day after the sultan left for Europe, Rüstem promised to talk to Fuad Paşa in person about Urquhart and his friends’ pro-Turkish efforts. ‘It is a fact that in Constantinople they have no idea of the labours you have been executing for so long a time’, he wrote. ‘The Sultan is coming to Paris at the end of this month or beginning of next. I shall very likely go there myself and I will take the opportunity of speaking at length with Fuad Pacha of all these matters. If possible, I will even try to see you on my way to there.’ See UP, Rüstem to Urquhart, 20 June 1867, Florence, Box no. 7 IC 12. Caritas, ‘No Title’, Diplomatic Review, 6 February 1867, p. 19. Charles Wells, ‘The Candian Insurrection and the Crimean War’, Diplomatic Review, 6 February 1867, p. 20. Anonymous, ‘Why Crete, not Candia? Why Hellenes, not Greeks?’ Diplomatic Review, 6 March 1867, pp. 35–7. Anonymous, ‘Autonomy: Its Parentage and Purpose’, Diplomatic Review, 6 March 1867, pp. 39–40. It must be noted that the Urquhartites appreciated the abstention of the British cabinet from joining in the ‘identic note’. Nonetheless, they were highly suspicious about the tenacity of this attitude: ‘The experience of the past furnishes us, however, with no grounds of hope that the English Government will continue for the future this sane and honourable course of standing aloof from concert and engagements with Foreign Powers.’ See Anonymous, ‘Address to the Sultan from the Keighley Foreign Affairs Committee’, Diplomatic Review, 5 June 1867, pp. 86–7. See also Anonymous, ‘The Foreign Affairs Committees and the Decision of the Sublime Porte’, Diplomatic Review, 3 February 1869, pp. 18–20. Anonymous, ‘Stand Taken by Turkey’, Diplomatic Review, 1 May 1867, p. 66.

257

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 81. 82.

83. 84.

85. 86. 87.

88. 89. 90. 91.

92. 93. 94. 95. 96.

258

Emre Aracı, ‘Londra Crystal Palace’ta Abdülaziz Şerefine Verilen Konser’, Toplumsal Tarih, vol. 49, 1998, pp. 29–33. Ziya repeated this excuse later in one of his poems entitled Şükrane (Gratitude) and devoted to the sultan. In Şükrane (1870) Ziya complained about his ‘avowed enemy’ Âli Paşa and claimed that Âli Paşa, aware of the bad effects of Cyprus weather on his health, purposely appointed him to the island one more time. M. Kaya Bilgegil, Harabat Karşısında Namık Kemal (İstanbul: İrfan Yayınevi, 1972) p. 169. Kuntay, Namık Kemal, vol. 1, p. 436; Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 45. Namık Kemal to Mustafa Asım Bey, August 1867, Letter no. 23 and September 1867, no. 24 in Tansel, Namık Kemal’in Mektupları, vol. 1, pp. 116– 17. Namık Kemal, ‘İstanbul’dan 28 Teşrinievvel-i Firengi’, Le Muhbir, no. 11, 7 November 1867. Charles Wells, ‘To the Editor of The Times’, The Times, 21 August 1868. The pro-Greek groups in Great Britain resorted to various methods of gathering money for the refugees in Greece. Apart from organizing private collections, they also published and sold pamphlets, leaflets and even prayer books. As an example see S. Apostolides, Our Lord’s Prayer in One Hundred Different Languages, Published for the Benefit of the Poor Cretan Refugees now in Greece (London: W. W. Watts, n.d.). Charles Wells, ‘To the Editor of The Times’, The Times, 26 August 1868. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 47. PRO FO 286/254, Dickson to Stanley, 24 January 1868. Also see Elliot to Stanley, 7 January 1868, BFSP-CDC 1867–68, LVIII, p. 167. See the Firman du Sultan, promulguant le Règlement Organique pour la reorganisation de la Crete, Le 10 Janvier, 1868, BFSP-CDC 1867–68, LVIII, pp. 137–64. Also See PRO FO 286/254 Dickson to Erskine, 22 February 1868. Mahmud Kemal İbnülemin, Osmanlı Devrinde Son Sadrazamlar, 14 vols (İstanbul: no publisher, 1940–52) vol. 1, p. 24. PRO FO 286/254 Calacherino to Stanley, 27 January 1868. Stanley to Elliot, 11 January 1868, Stanley to Lyons, 14 January 1868, BFSPCDC 1867–68, LVIII, p. 166. PRO FO 286/254 Elliot to Stanley, 19 January 1868. During the spring and summer of 1868 British Consul Dickson in Khania and Vice-Consul Calacherino in Candia incessantly reported horrendous bloodshed carried out by both Muslims and Christians in various villages. See PRO FO 286/254 Dickson to Erskine, 25 January 1868, Calacherino to Dickson, 27 January 1868, Calacherino to Dickson, 20 January 1868, Dickson to Erskine, 29 January 1868, Dickson to Erskine, 7 March 1868,

NOTES

97. 98. 99. 100.

101.

Calacherino to Dickson, 8 April 1868, Dickson to Erskine, 11 April 1868. The leaders of the insurrection continued to write private letters or give petitions on behalf of the ‘Provisional Government’ to the British consulate on the island asking for mediation but were constantly rejected. See PRO FO 286/254 Dickson to Erskine, 30 April 1868, Elliot to Dickson, 10 May 1868, Elliot to Stanley, 29 May 1868. Consul Dickson was instructed not to produce any written response to those petitions with a view that British government recognized neither a ‘Provisional Government’ nor a ‘National Assembly’ in Crete. PRO FO 286/254 Dickson to Erskine, 28 September 1868. Bourne, ‘Great Britain and the Cretan Revolt’, p. 89. PRO FO 32/383 Stanley to Erskine, 8 May 1868. Erskine to Stanley, 25 November 1868, BFSP-CDC 1867–68, LVIII, p. 585. PRO FO 286/240 Lyons to Stanley, 9 October 1866. Interestingly enough, in a letter published for the ‘use of the Foreign Affairs Committees’ in 1875, which had originally been sent to ‘A High Functionary of the Sublime Porte’ on 23 June 1867, Urquhart had urged the Porte to ‘declare war against Greece and expel the Hellenic subjects from the Ottoman dominions in order to put down the Cretan insurrection.’ The high functionary of the Sublime Porte or the recipient of the letter was, I believe, Rüstem and Urquhart asked him again to ‘transmit the letter to Fuad Paşa, should other chances fail.’ In the letter Urquhart opined that once the Ottoman Empire declared war, there would be no question of warlike operations. ‘The declaration does everything’, he wrote, ‘it breaks down the confidence that all is permitted when Turkey is the field and Mussulmans the victims, on which alone rest the piratical expeditions.’ ‘The notification to the Greeks –those precious Hellenes – to quit the Ottoman territories [emphasis mine] is the only operation that is required’ (David Urquhart, ‘To a High Functionary of the Sublime Porte, Candian Insurrection’, Foreign Affairs Committees and the Sultan (London: Diplomatic Review Office, 1875). Âli Paşa also assumed that the new British cabinet under the leadership of Gladstone, who had been appointed prime minister following the Liberal victory in the general election of November 1868, would not be very sympathetic towards the Ottoman Empire. As Urquhart had written to Rüstem, it had been ‘a most wonderful piece of good fortune that the Other party [Liberals] were not in power in England’ when the Ottoman Empire had to deal with the Cretan insurrection. However, with the election of 1868, Turkey was about to lose this ‘fortune’, and as General Ignatyev, the Russian ambassador in Istanbul, had warned Âli Paşa, ‘the Porte should not calculate on the pacification of Crete because Gladstone’s possible victory would mean the adoption of Philhellenism by the former mainstay of

259

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102. 103.

104. 105. 106. 107.

108. 109. 110. 111.

112. 113. 114.

260

Turkey.’ See PRO FO 286/254 Elliot to Stanley, 29 November 1868. The Greeks were indeed expecting a significant shift in British policy with regard to the Cretan insurrection after Gladstone’s entry to office. See Erskine to Stanley, 9 December 1868 and Clarendon to Erskine, 15 December 1868, BFSP, LVIII, pp. 595, 601–3. Therefore, Âli Pasa rushed to execute the ‘old’ plan and threatened Greece with breaking off relationships. Elliot to Stanley, 1 December 1868, BFSP-CDC 1867–68, LVIII, pp. 591–2. Erskine to Clarendon, 12 December 1868, PPHC 1868–69, LXIV, ‘Correspondence respecting the Rupture of Diplomatic Relationships between Turkey and Greece, 1868–1869’, pp. 780–2. In the ultimatum drawn up at a council of ministers on 6 December, the Porte demanded from Greece ‘the dispersion of the bands of volunteers, and the prevention of the formation of new ones, the disarming of the blockade runners Enosis, Panhellenion, and Crete, the protection of the Cretan refugees, and the punishment of Greeks who committed aggressions against the Ottoman subjects. Greek government was also urged to conform their policy to the treaties as well as the law of nations.’ See Elliot to Stanley, 7 December 1868, BFSP-CDC 1867–68, LVIII, p. 599. Clarendon to Elliot, 19 December 1868, BFSP 1867–68, LVIII, pp. 611–12. See the Protocols of the Conference, PPHC 1868–69, LXIV, pp. 862–936. Namık Kemal, ‘Devlet-i Aliyye’yi Bulunduğu Hal-i Hater-Nakden Halasın Esbabı’, Hürriyet, no. 9, 5 Cemaziyelevvel 1285/24 August 1868. Namık Kemal, ‘Avrupa’nın Ahval-i Hazırası’, Hürriyet, no. 14, 11 Cemaziyelahir 1285/29 September 1868. In using the metaphor of Noah’s ark, Namık Kemal seems to have been inspired by the accounts of Âli Paşa in his report to the sultan about the Cretan insurrection. In the report Âli Paşa had likened the Ottoman Empire to a boat caught in a hurricane, and he advised lightening the boat’s load in order to save it from sinking. The load that he had suggested throwing into the sea was Crete. (Akarlı, Belgelerle Tanzimat, pp. 12–13). Namık Kemal, ‘Yine Girid Meselesi Tazelendi’, Hürriyet, no. 26, 7 Ramazan 1285/21 December 1868. Namık Kemal, ‘Yunan Meselesi, Hürriyet, no. 27, 14 Ramazan 1285/28 December 1868. Ibid. E. J. W. Gibb, A History of Ottoman Poetry, vol. 5, edited by E. G. Browne (London: Luzac & Company, 1907) p. 96; Ziya Bey, Zafername, edited by Fikret Şahoğlu (İstanbul: Tercüman 1001 Temel Eser, 1968) p. 8. Gibb, A History of Ottoman Poetry, p. 96; Ziya, Zafername, p. 1. Gibb, A History of Ottoman Poetry, p. 98; Ziya, Zafername, p. 10. Gibb, A History of Ottoman Poetry, p. 97; Ziya, Zafername, p. 40.

NOTES 115. 116.

117.

118. 119. 120.

M. Kaya Bilgegil, ‘Abdülaziz’e Karşı Hazırlanan Bir Suikast Şayiası’, Atatürk Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi, Edebiyat Dergisi, Offprint no. 5, n.d. The friends to which Ziya Bey alludes must have been David Urquhart and his disciples, particularly Charles Wells who wrote letters to the editors of various British newspapers to protest against the charity collections for the Cretans. Ziya Bey, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 16, 25 Cemaziyelahir 1285/12 October 1868; Ziya Bey, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup’, Hürriyet, no. 17, 3 Receb 1285/19 October 1868; Ziya Bey, No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 18, 10 Receb 1285/26 October 1868. Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 15, 14 Şaban 1284/11 December 1867. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, pp. 247–51. Kemal, ‘Kurye D’Orian’da Görülen Makalenin Me’alidir’; Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 23, 19 Şaban 1285/30 November 1868; Namık Kemal, ‘Terakki Gazetesine İhtar’, Hürriyet, no. 25, 30 Şaban 1285/14 December 1868.

3. The Question of Equality and Foreign Intervention in the ‘Domestic’ Affairs of the Ottoman Empire 1. 2.

Gibb, A History of Ottoman Poetry, p. 105; Ziya, Zafername, p. 14. See firman and Hatt-i Sherif by the sultan, relative to privileges and reforms in Turkey, BFSP 1856–57, XLVII, pp. 1363–8 and for the full text of the Turkish version see I. Düstur, Tertip (İstanbul, 1289) vol. 1, pp. 7–14; and Enver Ziya Karal, Osmanlı Tarihi, (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1947) vol. 5, pp. 266–72. 3. Roderic H. Davison, ‘Ottoman Diplomacy at the Congress of Paris (1856) and the Question of Reforms’, in VII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, Ankara 25–29 Eylül 1970, Bildiriler, vol. 2 (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1973) pp. 583–4. 4. Ibid., p. 585. 5. For the text of the Paris Treaty of 1856 see ‘General Treaty between Great Britain, Austria, France, Prussia, Russia, Sardinia and Turkey, for the Reestablishment of Peace, signed at Paris, March 30, 1856’, BFSP 1855–56, XLVI, pp. 8–22. 6. Stratford de Redcliffe, ‘Turkey’, Part I, The Nineteenth Century, IV, 1877, p. 727. 7. Count Andrássy to Count Beust, 30 December 1875 (Communicated to the Earl of Derby by Count Beust, 3 January 1875), BFSP 1874–75, LXVI, pp. 921–31. 8. House of Commons, 16 February 1877, HPD, 3rd Series, no. 232, cols. 475–8. 9. Ahmed Cevdet Paşa, Tezakir, edited by C. Baysun, 4 vols (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1986) vol. 1, pp. 67–8. Ahmed Cevdet Paşa argues that the firman caused a fierce outburst among Muslims, which the incidents in Maraş, a city in southern Anatolia, illustriously exemplified. For the incidents that broke

261

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10.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

262

out in Maraş soon after the Islahat Fermanı was publicly announced, see Ufuk Gülsoy, ‘1856 Islahat Fermanına Tepkiler ve Maraş Olayları’, in Professor Dr Bekir, Kütükoğlu’na Armağan (İstanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Yayınları, 1991) pp. 451–7. Anonymous, ‘Reşit Paşa’nın Paris Musalahatına ve Hristiyanlara Verilen İmtiyaz Layihasına İtirazı’ (İstanbul: İ. Ü. Kütüphanesi, n.d.) no. 86490, pp. 2, 7, 9, 13 and 14. Given that Reşid Paşa had been compelled to resign from office in 1855 by leaving his place to his former pupil and new political rival Âli Paşa and by the time the Islahat Fermanı was promulgated he was in disgrace, his attack on the firman, thereby on its introducer does not seem surprising. His mentor, the British ambassador Stratford de Redcliffe, had failed to bring him back to power or even to send him as plenipotentiary to the Paris Conference. See Lord Eversley, The Turkish Empire from 1288 to 1914 and from 1914 to 1922 (London: Unwin, 1923) p. 309; Harold Temperley, ‘The Last Phase of Stratford de Redcliffe, 1855–8’, The English Historical Review, vol. 47, no. 186, 1932, p. 233. William Gifford Palgrave, Essays on Eastern Questions (London: Macmillan & Company, 1872) pp. 41–2. Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life’, pp. 420–1. Namık Kemal, ‘Bab-ı Âli’nin Politikası’, Hürriyet, no. 56, 9 Rebi-ül ahir 1286/19 July 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘Veşavirhüm Fi’l-Emr’, Hürriyet, no. 4, 29 Rebiülevvel 1285/20 July 1868; Ziya, Zafername, p. 107. Namık Kemal, ‘Avrupa’nın Ahval-i Hazırası’, Hürriyet, no. 14, 11 Cemaziyelahir 1285/29 September 1868. The Young Ottomans repeatedly criticized the Tanzimat statesmen for their ignorance of their own country: As they saw it, ‘Tanzimat statesmen’s knowledge of the Ottoman Empire and Islam came from the books written by Westerners. They understood French better than Ottoman Turkish and knew European law further than Şer’iat. This caused them to overlook the possible authentic resolutions to the predicaments of the Empire and turn to Europe for remedies. They did not know whether a so-called novelty they “discovered” in European political systems had already existed in ancient Islamic and Ottoman government since they did not bother to read the history of their own country.’ (Ali Suavi, ‘Avrupa, İtiraz, Meşihat’, Ulûm, no. 19, 1870). These objections voiced by the Young Ottomans also seem to have been directed at the Meiji reformers by some Japanese intellectuals. Nishimura Shigeki (1828–1902) a Confucian-oriented pioneer in modernization, and one of the most vocal moral critics of his time, for instance, remarked that ‘the difficulty with the Meiji Westernizers was copying everything they knew of the West. Instead, they should increase their

NOTES

17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

knowledge of the West tenfold, and then select only those things which are suitable for Japan. To do this selection and adaptation, however, they must also know Japan, but such people did not know their country either.’ Donald H. Shively, ‘Nishimura Shigeki: A Confucian View of Modernization’, in M. B. Jansen (ed.) Changing Japanese Attitudes Toward Modernization (Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle Co, 1982) first published 1965, pp. 193–241. Ziya Bey, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’, Hürriyet, no. 15, 18 Cemaziyelahir 1285/5 October 1868. Namık Kemal, ‘Avrupa Şarkın Asayişini İster’, Hürriyet, no. 24, 26 Şaban 1285/7 December 1868. Namık Kemal, ‘Bab-ı Âli’nin Politikası’, Hürriyet, no. 56, 9 Rebi-ül ahir 1286/19 July 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 23, 19 Şaban 1285/30 November 1868. Ziya Bey, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 52, 11 Rebiülevvel 1286/21 June 1869. Namık Kemal pointed out that non-Muslims had already been recruited as officials in the Ottoman Empire according to their merit. He argued that the number of non-Muslim employees in state offices was limited not because they were subject to systematic discrimination but because there were not many non-Muslims accustomed to the habits, customs and even the language of the Turks and hence eligible for official positions. Kemal also complained about the double standard adopted by Europe towards Turkey. He drew attention to the fact that Muslims in the dominions of European empires were unable to take positions as state functionaries: ‘If the Europeans make an excuse on the grounds that there is no single Muslim man in their dominions who deserves to be appointed as state official, we must remind them that even in the Ottoman Empire, the backwardness of which has become proverbial in Western quarters, some members of the minorities can endow themselves with the necessary skill to become functionaries. In this sense we fail to comprehend how under the rule of Britain and France, two powers that teach civilisation to the whole world, there cannot be found any well educated and competent Muslim to be employed’ (Kemal, ‘Şark Meselesine Dair Bir Layihadır’). Likewise, Ali Suavi reminded us that while the highest rank Muslims in Algeria under French rule could reach was a lieutenancy, in the Ottoman Empire there were non-Muslim marshals (Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 13, 24 Recep 1284/21 November 1867). It was a typical Turkish tactic to counter the criticism of European cabinets regarding the disability of non-Muslims in the Ottoman Empire by referring to the position of Muslims in the dominions of European empires. In this

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24. 25. 26.

27.

28. 29.

30.

264

sense it is not surprising to see that Kemal’s argument about Europe’s hypocrisy and double-standard was repeated in almost identical words in an anonymous pamphlet in 1904, which was designed as a counter-propaganda material against anti-Turkish agitation in Europe. See Anonymous, A Study in English Turcophobia (London: London Pan-Islamic Society, 1904) p. 18. Ziya Bey, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’. The translation of this quotation is from Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 355. Ziya, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’. Ziya Bey repeated in his Zafername that without some manner of democratic government, the principle of equality in honours was unattainable. ‘Especially for a monarchy like the Ottoman Empire, which encompasses various religious and ethnic peoples and was constituted on the basis of Islamic precepts’, wrote Ziya, ‘any attempt to introduce the equality in honours would dislocate the pillars of the state and have destructive effects on Muslim society’ (Ziya, Zafername, p. 89). Restrictions on dress, mode of travel, and form of public worship were occasionally placed upon dhimmis. They were not allowed to bear weapons, ride horses, build houses of worship higher than mosques, dress in the same way as Muslims, ring bells in the churches and mourn in public. According to Ziya Bey’s accounts, apart from those restrictions, before the promulgation of the Gülhane Rescript non-Muslims when coming across a Muslim in the street had to step aside and in winter time they were expected to shovel away the snow in front of the state buildings and it was also their duty to clean with their handkerchiefs the muddy shoes of the officers they saw in the street. See Ziya Bey, ‘Hidmet-i Askeriyye’, Hürriyet, no. 53, 18 Rebi-ül evvel 1286/28 June 1869. Halil İnalcık, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, Toplum ve Ekonomi Üzerinde Arşiv Çalışmaları, İncelemeler (İstanbul: Eren Yayınları, 1993) p. 73. BOA, Hatt-ı Humayun, no. 28133-G and no. 28133-H, quoted in Ufuk Gülsoy, ‘Cizye’den Vatandaşlığa: Osmanlı Gayrimüslimlerinin Askerlik Serüveni’, Türkler Ansiklopedisi, vol. 14 (Ankara: Yeni Türkiye Yayınları, 2002) p. 85. BOA, İrade-i Hariciye, no. 3712, quoted in Gülsoy, ‘Cizye’den Vatandaşlığa’, p. 87. Although European powers regarded the cizye as a discriminatory measure and urged the Porte to implement equality with respect to military service, non-Muslims do not seem to have been attracted to that kind of equality. The accounts on the topic given by Nassau W. Senior, the British economist who had travelled in the Ottoman Empire soon after the declaration of the Islahat Fermanı, give insights into the question: T. U., an Englishman who has for many years held a high rank in the Turkish service, said: ‘the ambassadors made the poor grand vizier insert that clause [the

NOTES

31. 32.

33.

34.

35.

equality of all subjects in terms of military duty] in the Hatt-i Humayun, they claimed for the rayahs the honour and the advantage of joining in the defence of the country; but the rayahs protest against their new privilege. They are not fond of fighting, still less of fighting for Turks; and they fear that the Turks will corrupt the faith and the morals of their children. The Turks, too, have had a warning from India. They see the danger of putting arms into the hands of a subject race. The only result is that instead of the Haratch [cizye], the rayahs pay a new and larger tax [bedel-i askeriye] to be excused from service’ (Nassau W. Senior, A Journal Kept in Turkey and Greece in the Autumn of 1857 and the Beginning of 1858 (London: Longman, 1859) pp. 120–1). C. E. Austin, Undeveloped Resources of Turkey in Asia with Notes on the Railway to India (London: William Ridgway, 1878) pp. 19, 28–9. Akarlı, Belgelerle Tanzimat, pp. 31–2. Although the authenticity of Âli Paşa’s testament has been questioned, I tend to agree with Davison who suggests that ‘from internal evidence it would be possible to conclude that the testament was basically genuine, although perhaps edited and added to by some later individual’ (Roderic H. Davison, ‘The Question of Ali Paşa’s Political Testament’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 2, 1980, pp. 209–25). Ahmed Cevdet Paşa, Maruzat, edited by Y. Halaçoğlu (İstanbul: Çağrı Yayınevi, 1980) pp. 114–15; Ahmed Cevdet Paşa, Tezakir, pp. 106–7; Bernard Lewis, ‘Watan’, Journal of Contemporary History, vol. 26, nos 3–4, 1991, pp. 528–9. Ironically enough British prime minister Lord Palmerston, who found the project of raising a mixed creed Ottoman army ‘not only desirable but almost indispensable’, came in the end to the same conclusion as Cevdet Paşa. Although he really adhered to the idea of conscripting non-Muslim Ottoman subjects into army he had his doubts about whether to enrol them in the same battalions with Muslims would serve to the desired end. Despite the recommendations of General Mansfield, a British commander of Turkish troops, that Muslims and non-Muslims should be fused in the same battalion, Palmerston believed that the general talked ‘as if they would mingle like wine and water’, but he feared that ‘at present at least the fusion might be more like that of cat and dog shut up in the same box’ (PRO FO 96/25, Palmerston to Stratford Canning, 18 March 1856). Ziya, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’. See also Ziya, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, 12 October 1868. Ali Suavi too objected to the unfairness of bedel-i askeriyye and argued that the Islahat Fermanı brought not equality for non-Muslims but inequality for Muslims (Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 2, 8 Cemaziyelevvel 1284/ 7 September 1867). Kemal, ‘Şark Meselesine Dair Bir Layihadır’.

265

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 36. 37.

38. 39.

40.

41. 42. 43. 44.

266

Namık Kemal, ‘Dışarıdan Hırsıza Çare Kabildir, Hırsız Evden Olursa Müşküldür’, Hürriyet, no. 38, 1 Zilhicce 1285/15 March 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘Usul-ü Meşverete Da’ir Geçen Nümerolarda Münderiç Mektubların Nihayeti’, Hürriyet, no. 22, 12 Şaban 1285/23 November 1868; Namık Kemal, Nüfus’İbret, no. 9, 25 June 1872. Namık Kemal, ‘İdarece Muhtaç Olduğumuz Tadilat’, İbret, no. 33, 17 October 1872; Ziya, ‘Hidmet-i Askeriyye’. Sir A. Henry Layard describing the British ambassador Lord Stratford de Redcliffe who represented Great Britain at the Ottoman court for almost twenty years intermittently between 1810 and 1858. See Henry A. Layard, Autobiography and Letters, 2 vols (London: John Murray, 1903) vol. 2, pp. 83– 5. Lord Palmerston commenting on the future of the Ottoman Empire in a letter to Lord Russell. See Letter-Books of the 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Bodleian Library, Oxford, Add. MSS 48582, PRO 30/22/21, Palmerston to Russell, 12 October 1861 quoted in E. D. Steele, ‘Palmerston’s Foreign Policy and Foreign Secretaries’, in Keith M. Wilson (ed.) British Foreign Secretaries and Foreign Policy: From Crimean War to First World War (London: Croom Helm, 1987) p. 53. Senior, A Journal Kept in Turkey and Greece, pp. 118–19. Sina Akşin, ‘Siyasal Tarih 1789–1908’, in M. Kunt (ed.) Türkiye Tarihi 1600– 1908, vol. 3, 5th edn (İstanbul: Cem Yayınevi, 1997) p. 125. Cevdet Paşa, Tezakir, vol. 3, p. 15. When the French engineer Ferdinand de Lesseps, the cousin of Emperor Napeolon III’s wife Eugenie, asked for permission from the Porte to embark on the Suez Canal project, the British ambassador Stratford Canning put pressure on the grand vizier Reşid Paşa, who was known as the protégé of Great Britain, to oppose the project, which he, in concert with his foreign minister Lord Palmerston, believed would pose a threat to the influence of Great Britain in the region. See HPP, 3rd Series, CXLVI, cols. 1043–4. Therefore, Lesseps failed to obtain the necessary permission and asked for support from the French ambassador in Istanbul. Ambassador Benedetti, along with the embassy’s first translator, Scheffer, commenced a lobbying campaign to discredit the grand vizier in the palace and replace him with Damad Mehmed Ali Paşa, who had engagements with the French embassy. Even though he could not persuade the sultan to restore Mehmed Ali Paşa to the grand vizierate, he still managed to get him an office in the cabinet. This led Reşid Paşa to refuse to work with his political rival and to resign on 2 May 1855, thus leaving the office to his former pupil and new opponent Âli Paşa. On hearing of Reşid’s resignation, Lesseps argued that whatever the pretext, the real reason behind Reşid’s fall from power was his plot against

NOTES

45. 46.

47.

48. 49. 50.

51. 52. 53.

France and the Suez Canal project. See Ferdinand de Lesseps, Lettres, Journal et Documants (Paris: Didier, 1875) vol. 1, p. 193, quoted in Taner Timur, Osmanlı Çalışmaları: İlkel Feodalizmden Yarı sömürge Ekonomisine, 3rd edn (Ankara: İmge Kitabevi, 1998) p. 222. The return of Reşid Paşa to office on 31 October 1856 happened by a similar process. Stratford Canning, after long negotiations and laborious diplomatic manoeuvres, defeated his French colleague, Thouvenel, and restored the influence of Great Britain in the Ottoman capital by inducing the sultan to reinvest Reşid Paşa as grand vizier. For a detailed account of this affair see Mosse, ‘The Return of Reschid Pasha’, pp. 546–71. İbnülemin, Osmanlı Devrinde Son Sadrazamlar, vol. 1, p. 15. The dismissal of Reşid Paşa from the grand vizierate in 1857 due to the principalities crisis stands as an example of that policy. When confronted by France the sultan dismissed the grand vizier Reşid Paşa, who was regarded as a protégé and agent of Great Britain, to mollify France and ease the tension (Temperley, ‘The Last Phase of Stratford de Redcliffe’, pp. 240–6). A. Henry Layard, ‘The Condition of Turkey and her Dependencies’, Speech Delivered in the House of Commons on Friday, May 29, 1863 (London: John Murray, 1863) pp. 63–4. Ziya, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’. Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 11, 10 Recep 1284/7 November 1867. Ali Suavi, ‘Mesele-yi Şarkiyyenin Bugünkü Hali, Le Mukhbir, no. 2, 8 Cemaziyelevvel 1284/7 September 1867. This article in fact gives insights into the way the Muslim public perceived and reacted to their loss of superiority over non-Muslims. Suavi, as the representative of the ‘man in the street’ or the representative of the little tradition within the Muslim Ottoman intelligentsia, not only voices the frustration of Muslims but also displays their effort to console themselves by reminding the lower status of manmade laws vis-à-vis the law of God. He opines that the ‘well-known inferiority’ of non-Muslims to Muslims in terms of good character by no means ceases to exist with a simple declaration of complete equality thorough the Islahat Fermanı: ‘No ferman can render those insolent, shameless and ignorant Christians equal to Muslims. If Christians wish to be regarded and treated as equals by Muslims we recommend them start with improving/reforming their disposition.’ Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 42, 29 Zilhicce 1285/12 April 1869; Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 48, 12 Safer 1286/24 May 1869. Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 55, 2 Rebi-ül ahir 1286/12 July 1869; Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 62, 22 Cemaziyelevvel 1286/30 August 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘Hariciyye Nezareti’, Hürriyet, no. 44, 14 Muharrem 1286/ 26 April 1869.

267

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 54. 55. 56. 57. 58.

59. 60. 61.

62. 63.

64. 65. 66. 67.

68. 69.

268

Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 34, 3 Zilkade 1285/15 February 1869. Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 55, 2 Rebi-ül ahir 1286/12 July 1869. Bernard Lewis, From Babel to Dragomans: Interpreting the Middle East (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2004) p. 26. PRO FO 352/24 A 1, Urquhart to Stratford Canning, 8 February 1832. Urquhart, ‘Biographic Sketch of Mr Urquhart from the ConversationsLexicon’, p. 224; David Urquhart, The Growth of Russian Power Contingent on the Decay of the British Constitution, Reprinted for the use of the Foreign Affairs Committees from the ‘Morning Herald’ of 1856 (London: Robert Hardwicke, 1858) p. 238. PRO FO 78/266, Urquhart to Duke of Wellington, 5 February 1835. David Urquhart, ‘Opinions and Character of Turkish Travellers’, Foreign Quarterly Review, vol. 15, 1835, p. 432. After the Greek revolution, the Ottomans began to eliminate Greeks from important positions in the bureaucratic apparatus of the empire and the Phanariot dragomans in the Sublime Porte were replaced either by converted Christians, or Armenians (İlber Ortaylı, ‘Greeks in the Ottoman Administration during the Tanzimat Period’, in D. Gondica and C. Issawi (eds) Ottoman Greeks in the Age of Nationalism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999) p. 161). Although during the Tanzimat era the Ottoman Empire continued to employ in strategically important positions some Phanariots, their position was not overwhelmingly influential within the bureaucratic system (Findley, Bureaucratic Reform in the Ottoman Empire, p. 206). Çağlar Keyder, State and Class in Turkey: A Study in Capitalist Development (London: Verso, 1987) p. 20. Francis Avocat Rey, 1899 p. 290. Namık Kemal asserted that a Greek official in the Princess Islands sold 4000 passports within a month and that there were numerous villages in Arabia all inhabitants of which claimed foreign protection (Namık Kemal, ‘Tabiyet-i Osmaniyye’, Hürriyet, no. 39, 8 Zilhicce 1285/22 March 1869). Layard Autobiography and Letters, vol. 2, p. 25. Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, p. 21. Humphry Sandwith, A Narrative of the Siege of Kars (London: John Murray, 1856) p. 80. Roderic H. Davison, ‘Turkish Attitudes Concerning Christian-Muslim Equality in the Nineteenth Century’, in Roderic H. Davison, Essays in Ottoman and Turkish History 1774–1923: The Impact of the West (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990) p. 113. Sandwith, Narrative of the Siege of Kars, pp. 176, 303. PRO FO 881/3175, Reports from Her Majesty’s Diplomatic and Consular Agents in Turkey respecting the Conditions of the Christian Subjects of the Porte 1868–1875, Palgrave to Stanley, 30 January 1868.

NOTES 70.

71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80.

81. 82.

83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88.

Ziya, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, 12 July 1869. In other articles Ziya reiterated his convictions about the ‘dens of iniquity’ in operation in the Ottoman provinces that invariably defeated the well-intended efforts of idealist officials and governors. See Ziya, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, 24 May 1869; Ziya Bey, ‘80, 81 ve 82. Nüshalarda Münderiç İki Mes’ele-i Mühimme’nin Mabadı’, Hürriyet, no. 83, 22 Sevval 1286/24 January 1870. Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, p. 21. Ziya, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, 24 May 1869. Samatya is a neighbourhood in Istanbul that was overwhelmingly inhabited by non-Muslims at the time of the Ottoman Empire. Ziya, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, 24 May 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘Bab-ı Âli’nin Politikası’, Hürriyet, 19 July 1869. See Turkish Law Respecting Nationality, 19 January 1869 in BFSP 1875– 1876, LXVII, pp.1251–2. Namık Kemal, ‘Kapitülasyonlar’, Diyojen, no. 166, 21 November 1872. Namık Kemal, ‘Tabiyet-i Osmaniyye’, Hürriyet, 22 March 1869. Çağlar Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, pp. 21–2, 34. For the Ottoman-Islamic rules denying the foreigners the right to own landed property in the sultans’ dominions before the Islahat Fermanı see Ömer Lütfi Barkan, ‘Türk Toprak Hukuku Tarihinde Tanzimat ve 1274 [1858] Tarihli Arazi Kanunnamesi’, in Ö. L. Barkan, Toplu Eserler I (İstanbul: Gözlem Yayınları, 1980) p. 350. For examples of the Ottoman documents stating that foreigners cannot own landed property in the empire, see BOA A. MKT. NZD 22–56/ 1267S–24; A. MKT. UM 51–12/1267Ca-07; A. MKT. UM 73–48/ 1267Za-06; A. MKT. UM 101-89/ 1268N-04: A. MKT. UM 102–96/ 1268N-30; A. MKT. MVL 84–23/ 1273C-03; A. MKT. MVL 93-38/1274R–25; A. MKT NZD 266–40/ 1275Ra–10; HR. SYS 2821–54/ 1865, 09–20. Feroz Ahmad, ‘Ottoman Perceptions of the Capitulations 1800–1914’, Journal of Islamic Studies, vol. 11, no. 1, 2000, p. 6. PRO FO 881/1379, Memorandum by Sir H. Bulwer on different topics connected with the affairs at Constantinople, no date, but first printed on 18 December 1863, reprinted for the use of Foreign Office, November 1876, pp. 21, 27. PRO FO 881/6145, The Law Officers of the Crown to Lord John Russell, 16 May 1860 and 7 July 1860. PRO FO 78/2115 Lyons to Stanley, 10 April 1867. PRO FO 78/2115, Stanley to Lyons, 18 June 1867. Anonymous, Muhbir, no. 41, 5 Muharrem 1284/9 May 1867. Anonymous, Muhbir, no. 46, 13 Muharrem 1284/17 May 1867. For the text of the firman see Loi Concèdant aux Etrangers le Droit de

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89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96.

97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105.

106.

270

Propriété Immobilière dans l’Empire Ottoman, Le Sepher 1284/Le Juin 1867, BFS, 1867–68, LVIII, pp. 22–3. Timur, Osmanlı Çalışmaları, p. 246. La Presse, 7 July 1867 and The Times, 2 July 1867. PRO FO 78/2115, Lyons to Stanley, 24 June 1867. PRO FO 78/2115 Stanley to Lyons, 22 July 1867 and Stanley to Elliot, 30 September 1867. PRO FO 78/2115 Elliot to Stanley, 13 December 1867. PRO FO 78/2115, Lyons to Stanley, 20 December 1867. PRO FO 78/2115 Stanley to Lyons, 21 December 1867 and Lyons to Stanley, 16 July 1868. See Protocol of Conference between Great Britain and Turkey, relative to the Admission of British Subjects in Turkey to the Right of Holding Real Property, BFSP 1867–1868, LVIII, pp. 19–22. See also PRO FO 78/2115, Circular, by Elliot, 2 November 1868 and Elliot to Stanley, 4 November 1868. PRO FO 78/2115, Bloomsfield to Clarendon, 21 January 1869. Roger Owen, The Middle East in the World Economy 1800–1914 (London: Methuen, 1981) p. 120. Namık Kemal, ‘Ecnebilerin Tasarruf-ı Emlak Salahiyyeti’, Hürriyet, no. 21, 5 Şaban 1285/16 November 1868. Senior, A Journal Kept in Turkey and Greece, p. 44. J. Lewis Farley, The Decline of Turkey, Financially and Politically, 2nd edn (London: Published by the author, 1875) pp. 53–7. Gladstone, Bulgarian Horrors, p. 61. Senior, A Journal Kept in Turkey and Greece, p. 152. Kemal, ‘Ecnebilerin Tasarruf-ı Emlak Salahiyyeti’, Hürriyet, 16 November 1868. Ibid. The same issue contained a letter from one of the Hürriyet’s freelance reporters revealing that ‘gossip’ confirmed Kemal’s fears that the new firman would bring about the ‘invasion of Istanbul by foreigners’. According to the letter, some foreign capitalists had presented the Porte with a reconstruction plan for Istanbul that included the demolition of the existing wooden houses in a large area between the Dolma Bahçe Palace and Beyazıd Square and their replacement with concrete buildings. The reporter asserted that ‘although the project would definitely contribute to the beauty of Istanbul it would not be Muslim inhabitants to benefit from that beauty.’ See Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup fi 10 Receb’, Hürriyet, no. 21, 2 Şaban 1285/16 November 1868. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 16, 25 Cemaziyelahir 1285/12 October 1868; Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, 30 November 1868.

NOTES 107. 108. 109. 110. 111.

112.

113. 114. 115. 116.

Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 60, 8 Cemaziyelevvel 1286/16 August 1869. Feroz Ahmad, ‘Ottoman Perceptions of the Capitulations’, pp. 14–18. Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, 16 August 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 35, 10 Zilkade 1285/22 February 1869. Ziya, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’, Hürriyet, 5 October 1868. While Ziya and Kemal ‘warned’ the Porte about the possible dangerous results of growing Muslim frustration, Suavi opted for ‘threatening’. For examples see Ali Suavi, ‘Islahat’, Le Mukhbir, no. 14, 1 Şaban/28 November 1867; Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 26, 7 March 1868. Kemal always referred to a possible Muslim outbreak with so much alarm and equated it with the doom of the empire. ‘While the patriotic Ottoman intelligentsia struggle for the usul-ü meşveret’, he wrote, ‘this injustice and poverty might exhaust the patience of the underprivileged and uneducated masses and lead them to take up arms against the state and plunge the country into bloody chaos. God forbid, this would mean the end of the Empire!’ (Namık Kemal, ‘Usul-ü Meşverete Dair Geçen Nümerolarda Münderiç Mektupların Beşincisi’, Hürriyet, no. 17, 3 Receb 1285/19 October 1868). Suavi, ‘Paristen Bir Müslüman Mektubu’, Le Mukhbir, 25 December 1867; Ali Suavi, ‘Mevt-ül Ulema’, Le Mukhbir, no. 19, 10 January 1868. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 369. Ali Suavi, ‘Suavi Efendi Tarafindan Gelen Mektub Sureti’, Hürriyet, no. 78, 7 Ramazan 1286/20 December 1869. Although Ziya’s involvement in Suavi’s call for the assassination of Âli Paşa, by publishing his letter in the Hürriyet, seems to contradict his own principles against tyrannicide, the deep-seated personal feud between the grand vizier and Ziya, coupled with his exhaustion and disappointment, must have led him to make an ‘exception’ and turn a blind eye to the provocative quality of the letter. In fact, Ziya’s own plan to get rid of Âli did not include an assassination or execution to be carried out after his trial. Ziya argued that Young Ottomanism by definition was against violence because it was dedicated to usul-ü meşveret, which meant nothing but justice and justice could not have anything to do with shedding the blood of any human being, hence it was impossible for a member of the Young Ottoman Union to be involved in an assassination attempt (Ziya Bey, ‘Yeni Osmanlıların İlan-ı Resmiyesi’, Hürriyet, no. 16, 25 Cemaziyelahir 1285/12 October 1868.). Ziya ‘dreamed’ of making Âli expiate the ‘indescribable harm he did the Ottoman state and peoples’ by getting the sultan to dismiss him from office, confiscate all his property and send him to Cyprus as prefect – the post to

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117.

118. 119. 120. 121. 122.

123.

272

which Âli had appointed Ziya twice – in order to pull him away from the capital and thereby from the mainstream of the business of the state. See Ziya Bey, ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Âli Paşa’, Hürriyet, no. 68, 5 Receb 1286/11 October 1869; Ziya Bey, ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Ali Paşa-II’, Hürriyet, no. 69, 12 Receb 1286/18 October 1869. Şerif Mardin, ‘Freedom in an Ottoman Perspective’, in M. Heper and A. Evin (eds) State, Democracy and the Military: Turkey in the 1980s (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1988) p. 29. Ibid. Ibid., p. 31. Ibid. Ibid., p. 32. Suavi’s letters had originally appeared in French in the Mémorial Diplomatique and were translated and reproduced in the Diplomatic Review under the title of ‘Letters by Ali Suavi Effendi’. In a letter dated 17 August 1876 and addressed to Viscountess Strangford, who had been involved in a subscription for the Bulgarians, Suavi, in accordance with his mission of struggling against the ‘spirit of hostility that reigned in England against Turkey’ and enlightening the British public about the facts of Bulgarian revolt, which he believed had been purposefully misrepresented, urged Lady Strangford to cease her financial and moral support for the victims of so-called atrocities. See Ali Suavi, ‘Letters by Ali Suavi Effendi, no. 1, to Viscountess Strangford, Paris, August 17, 1876’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 19, no. 3, October 1876, pp. 270–2. In another letter to the editor of the Mémorial Diplomatique, Suavi dissected the report of Mr Schuyler, the American consul in Bulgaria, and set out to refute the charges against the Turkish forces by pointing out the discrepancies that appeared in the report. See Ali Suavi, ‘The Report of Mr Schuyler, to the Editor of the Mémorial Diplomatique, September 4, 1876’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 19, no. 3, October 1876, pp. 273–4. Ali Suavi also communicated ‘the report of the notables of Philippopoli’, which aimed to display ‘the brutal massacre of innocent Muslims by the Bulgarian insurgents’ to the Diplomatic Review. See Ali Suavi, ‘The Bulgarian Insurrection, Communicated by Ali Suavi Effendi’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 20, no. 4, October 1876, pp. 244–8. Suavi’s letters to the Mémorial Diplomatique were also reproduced in the Ottoman Turkish newspaper Vakit. See Ali Suavi, ‘Suavi Efendi’nin Neşir Eylediği Evrak-i Mezkûre’, Vakit, no. 327, 23 September 1876; Ali Suavi, ‘Suavi Efendi’nin Neşir Eylediği Evrak-i Mezkûre’, Vakit, no. 328, 24 September 1876. Mahmud Celaleddin Paşa, Mirat-ı Hakikat, ed. İsmet Miroğlu (İstanbul: Berekât Yayınevi, 1983) pp. 92–4. There are several accounts arguing that the softa demonstrations of 1876 were organized and backed by dissident pashas such

NOTES

124. 125.

126. 127.

128. 129. 130.

131.

132. 133. 134.

as Midhat, Hüseyin Avni and Mütercim Rüştü who were planning to dethrone Sultan Abdülaziz and introduce the parliamentary system. David Urquhart, ‘To the Turks Studying in Europe’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 24, no. 3, July 1876, p. 173. David Urquhart, Letter to the sultan, dictated to Mr Butler Johnstone in French, November 1876, UP, Box no. IC 14. (It reads on the letter ‘the last thing my husband ever wrote’ by Mrs Urquhart.) David Urquhart, ‘The Patriarch Hassoun and the Armenian Schism’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 20, no. 3, July 1872, pp. 163–4. ‘Proposed Withdrawal from Interference with Turkey, The Humble and Loyal Petition of the Undersigned FAC to the Queen’s Most Excellent Majesty, Signed by the FAC of Cheshire and Lancashire and by Delegates from the Committees of Bolton, Macclesfield, Manchester, Ramsbottom, Staleybridge and Stockport and by Order and On Behalf of the Yorkshire Committees’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 25, no. 1, January 1877, pp. 19–25. David Urquhart, ‘Position of the Christians in Turkey’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 19, no. 1, January 1871, p. 36. David Urquhart, ‘Parliamentary Paper on the Condition of the Christians in Turkey’, Diplomatic Review, 4 September 1867, pp. 139–40. David Urquhart, ‘Treatment of Foreigners in the Ottoman Empire’, Diplomatic Review, 2 January 1867, p. 14; David Urquhart, ‘Alleged Extinction of the Turkish Race’, Diplomatic Review, 3 June 1868, p. 86. Urquhart repeatedly drew attention to the ‘usurpation’ of the authority as well as of the constitutional rights of the crown by the parliament but also emphasized that the parliament too lost its power to rule and became ‘the very slave’ of the two clubs of leaders. In other words, he believed that parliamentary democracy in Britain had ceased to work for people’s good and had been replaced by the ‘contemporary shifting of parties’ each of which was superseded by the mutual understanding of the clubs (Urquhart, Familiar Words, pp. 96–103, 327–8). Ali Suavi as an Urquhartite convert repeated his mentor’s convictions of the British parliament on several occasions. He wrote in Ali Suavi, ‘Vakit Gazetesi Müdiri Efendiye’, Vakit, no. 323, 19 September 1876: ‘There is no public opinion in England. English parliament is a corrupt institution that can no longer influence, rule and control the cabinet. Public opinion has no say in governmental matters. The parliament represents the interests of some clubs not the interest of the public.’ Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 247. Elie Kedorie, England and the Middle East, p. 14. Bihruz Bey is the protagonist of the Ottoman novelist Recaizade Mahmud Ekrem’s famous novel Araba Sevdası (The Love for Stagecoach) (1896). In

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135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145.

146. 147. 148. 149.

274

the novel Bihruz Bey is portrayed as the prototype Tanzimat dandy who is ashamed of his own culture and society and displays distaste for everything that is authentic and peculiar in the Ottoman cultural repertoire. His education seems very patchy leaving him unable to comprehend and appreciate the Islamic and Western philosophy and sciences alike. He speaks a foreign language (French) without mastering it and appears as a devoted admirer and lover of European mannerisms and life style. His idea of the West is largely limited to the consumption of European goods, imitation of dress code, table manners and dances that were in vogue in Europe at that time. He is extremely shallow and snobbish and unaware that he is an item of ridicule. The Ottoman novels produced in the Tanzimat era are replete with variations of the Bihruz Bey type, but Ekrem’s Bihruz Bey appears as the manifestation of all stereotypical qualities of the Tanzimat dandy in a crystallized form. Mardin draws his terms ‘Bihruz Bey syndrome’ and ‘antiBihruz Bey stand’, which I discuss in the following chapter, from this representative quality of Ekrem’s extremely caricaturized protagonist. See Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life; Jale Parla, Babalar ve Oğullar Tanzimat Romanının Epistemolojik Temelleri (İstanbul: İletişim, 1990). Mardin, ‘Freedom in an Ottoman Perspective’, p. 32. Ali Suavi, ‘Hutbe’, Le Mukhbir, no. 34, 13 May 1868. Shayegan, Cultural Schizophrenia, pp. 76–7. Ali Suavi, ‘Demokrasi, Hükümet-i Halk, Müsavat’, Ulûm, no. 18, 1870. Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life’, p. 422. Ibid., p. 427. St Clair, Twelve Years’ Study, pp. 31–2. Kemal to Mustafa Asım Bey, July 1867, reproduced in Tansel, Namık Kemal’in Mektupları, pp. 100–1. David Urquhart, The Spirit of the East, vol. 2, p. 7. Çelik, Ali Suavi ve Dönemi, pp. 227–8; Saadettin Nüzhet Ergun, Namık Kemal: Hayatı ve Şiirleri (İstanbul: Yeni Şark Kütüphanesi, 1933) pp. 281–2. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 34, 3 Zilkade 1285/15 February 1869; Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 37, 24 Zilkade 1285/8 March 1869; Namık Kemal, ‘Es’ile-i Muhtasara’, Hürriyet, no. 40, 15 Zilhicce 1285/29 March 1869; Ziya, ‘Karınca Kanatlandı’, Hürriyet, 22 February 1869. Ziya, ‘Mesele-yi Müsavat’, Hürriyet, 5 October 1868. İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, ‘Ali Suavi ve Çırağan Vak’ası’, Belleten, vol. 8, no. 29, 1944, pp. 71–118. This is the same Urquhartite St Clair to whom I referred above with respect to his views about the Young Ottoman party in Europe. David Urquhart never ceased to support and propagandize the cause of Poles, Hungarians and Circassians who struggled against Russian encroach-

NOTES

150.

ments. He was in constant touch with the leaders of those people who sometimes visited him in England and even stayed as guests in his house. M. C. Bishop, Memoir of Mrs Urquhart (London: Kegan Paul, 1897) p. 190; Peter Brock, ‘The Fall of Circassia: A Study in Private Diplomacy’, The English Historical Review, vol. 71, no. 280, 1956, pp. 401–27. PRO FO 78/2789 Layard to Salisbury, 27 May 1878.

4. The Financial Crisis of the Ottoman Empire 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Houghton, Victorian Frame of Mind, p. 32. Ibid., p. 28. Newsome, Victorian World Picture, p. 3. Briggs, Victorian People, p. 10. Newsome, Victorian World Picture, p. 8. Namık Kemal, ‘Terakki’, İbret, no. 45, 4 November 1872. Houghton, Victorian Frame of Mind, p. 39. Ziya Bey, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 45, 21 Muharrem 1286/ 3 May 1869. Ziya, ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, 12 April 1869. Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life’, p. 420. Ibid., p. 422. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 7, 20 Rebiülahir 1285/10 August 1868. Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, p. 30. Namık Kemal, ‘Sekizinci Nümerodaki Maliye Bendine Zeyl’, Hürriyet, no. 10, 13 Cemaziyelevvel 1285/31 August 1868. Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, p. 30. Ibid. Mardin explains this lacuna in the Ottoman Empire with respect to supportive and protective policies towards commerce and merchants with the basic promise of a patrimonial system that the ruler is personally responsible for the welfare of his subjects: ‘The obligation which the Sultan felt to be “a father to his subjects” in towns placed commerce at a disadvantage as compared with gild industry. … Not only did the state protect the gilds against monopolistic practices by merchants, but more importantly, by denying corporate personality and independent governments to towns it blocked the formation of oligarchies of merchant capitalists. … No mercantilist policies were devised with the aim of increasing trade. … Tariffs were not used for revenue. … These policy traditions may be interpreted as a function of the patrimonial bureaucrats’ belief that their consumption patterns were essential to the perpetuation of their power. Ottoman rulers were vitally interested in imports but not in exports’ (Şerif Mardin, ‘Power, Civil Society and Culture in the Ottoman Empire’,

275

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 17. 18.

19. 20.

21.

22.

23. 24. 25.

26. 27.

28.

29. 30. 31. 32.

276

Comparative Studies in Society and History, vol. 11, no. 3, 1969, pp. 259–62). Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, p. 30. Pamuk suggests that central government expenditure increased by 250 to 300 per cent, from about 18 million current kuruş or 2 million ducats at the end of the eighteenth century to about 400 million current kuruş or 7 million ducats at the end of the 1830s. (Şevket Pamuk, A Monetary History of the Ottoman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2000) p. 189). Pamuk, A Monetary History, p. 193. Stanford J. Shaw, ‘The Nineteenth Century Ottoman Tax Reforms and Revenue System’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 6, 1975, pp. 423–5. In the esham system, the annual net revenues of a tax source were specified in nominal terms. This amount was divided into a large number of shares that were then sold to the public for the lifetime of the buyers. (Pamuk, A Monetary History, p. 191). Olive Anderson, ‘Great Britain and the Beginnings of the Ottoman Public Debt, 1854–55’, The Historical Journal, vol. 7, no. 1, 1964, p. 47; Michelle Raccagni, ‘The French Interests in the Ottoman Empire’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 2, 1980, p. 343. Cevdet Paşa, Tezakir, vol. 1, pp. 22–3. PRO FO 352/38 Stratford to Clarendon, 7 April 1854. Clarendon to Stratford, 13 June 1854 in PRO FO 881/2703 Memorandum on the subject of the Turkish Loans, and the amount of Support granted by Her Majesty’s Government to the Bond holders, (1854–74), Confidential (2703) by A. Walmisley, 1 November 1875, p. 2. Cowley to Clarendon, 26 June 1854 in Memo by Walmisley, p. 2. For the Porte’s instructions to Dent, Palmer & Company, which halfheartedly agreed on British and French demands/impositions, see BOA HR. MKT 78/51, 11 N 1270/8 June 1854. For the terms and conditions of the loan see BOA HR.MKT 77/78, 28 Şevval 1270/26 May 1854. Donald Blaisdell, European Financial Control in the Ottoman Empire: A Study of the Establishment, Activities and Significance of the Administration of the Ottoman Public Debt (New York: Columbia University Press, 1929) p. 48; A. J. Wilson, ‘The Turkish Default’, MacMillan’s Magazine, vol. 33, 1875, p. 90. Christopher Clay, Gold for the Sultan: Western Bankers and Ottoman Finances, 1856–1881 (London: I.B.Tauris, 2000) p. 10. Donald Quataert, Ottoman Manufacturing in the Age of the Industrial Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993) p. 23. A. P. Thornton, Doctrines of Imperialism (London: John Wiley & Sons, 1965) p. 99. Michelle Raccagni, ‘The French Interests in the Ottoman Empire’, p. 340.

NOTES 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

38.

39. 40.

41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57.

Blaisdell, European Financial Control, p. 22. R. Dudley Baxter, ‘The Recent Progress of National Debts Read Before the Statistical Society’, Journal of the Statistical Society, vol. 37, 1874, pp. 7–8. Blaisdell, European Financial Control, p. 58. Çağlar Keyder, State and Class in Turkey, pp. 37–8. PRO FO 881/956 Papers relating to the Financial Condition of the Turkish Empire, Printed for the use of the Foreign Office, 20 April 1861, Document no. 4, Russell to Bulwer, 11 September 1860. See PRO FO 881/956 Papers relating to the Financial Condition of the Turkish Empire, Document no. 9, Identic Note upon the Labours of the Financial Commission by the Marquis de Plaeuc and M. Falconnet, 27 October 1860. Blaisdell, European Financial Control, p. 55. Cevdet Paşa, Tezakir, vol. 2, pp. 227–42. Also see ‘Fuad Paşa’nin Maliyenin Umur-i Islahi için Layihasi fi Şaban 1278/1861’, in Halil Rifat Paşa, Muharrerat-ı Nadire (İstanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Kütüphanesi, n.d.) pp. 127–43). PRO FO 881/2703, Memo by Valmisley, p. 23. Ibid. Ibid., p. 21. Ibid. Steele, ‘Palmerston’s Foreign Policy’, p. 52. Namık Kemal, ‘Ahval-i Maliyeye Dair Bir Layihadır’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 414, 8 Rebiülahir 1283/9 August 1866. Namık Kemal, ‘No Title’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 445, 13 Şaban 1283/8 December 1866. D. C. M. Platt, ‘British Portfolio Investment Overseas Before 1870: Some Doubts’, Economic History Review, vol. 33, 1980, p. 11. Ali Suavi, ‘No Title’, Le Mukhbir, no. 12, 18 Receb 1283/14 November 1867. Kemal, ‘Sekizinci Nümerodaki Maliye Bendine Zeyl’, Hürriyet, 31 August 1868. Raccagni, ‘The French Interests in the Ottoman Empire’, p. 354. See Lord Stanley’s speech quoted in The Times, 13 November 1868. Anonymous, ‘Bab-ı Âlinin Akdedeceği İstikrazı Ümmet-i Osmaniyye’nin Kabul Etmeyeceğini Havi İstanbul’dan Yüz İki İmza ile Aldığımız Protestonamedir fi Receb Sene 1285’, Hürriyet, no. 21, 2 Şaban 1285/16 November 1868. Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life’, p. 418. Ibid., p. 430. Ibid., p. 421. Ibid., p. 427.

277

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 58. 59.

Ibid., p. 430. Ziya Bey, ‘İstikraz-i Cedide Üzerine Yeni Osmanlılar Cemiyetinin Mütalaatı’, Hürriyet, no. 22, 12 Şaban 1285/23 November 1868. 60. George Lee, ‘Rosa Luxemburg and the Impact of Imperialism’, The Economic Journal, vol. 81, no. 324, 1971, pp. 850–1. 61. Ibid., p. 852. 62. Rosa Luxemburg, The Junius Pamphlet (Colombo: Sydney Wanasinghe, 1967) p. 27. 63. Ziya, ‘İstikraz-i Cedide Üzerine Yeni Osmanlılar Cemiyetinin Mütalaatı’, Hürriyet, 23 November 1868. 64. Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, 30 November 1868. 65. Şerif Mardin, ‘Super Westernization in Urban Life’, p. 432. 66. Kemal, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, 30 November 1868. 67. Namık Kemal, ‘Yeni İstikraz’, Hürriyet, no. 38, 1 Zilhicce 1285/ 15 March 1869. 68. Namık Kemal, No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 47, 5 Safer 1286/17 May 1869. 69. Namık Kemal, ‘İbret’, Hürriyet, no. 48, 12 Safer 1286/24 May 1869. 70. Davison, ‘Environmental and Foreign Contributions’, p. 109. 71. Bernard Lewis, ‘History Writing and National Revival in Turkey’, Middle Eastern Affairs, vol. 4, nos 6–7, 1953, p. 220. 72. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 331. 73. For the ideological linkage between Namık Kemal and the Kemalist nationalists see Selim Deringil, ‘The Ottoman Origins of Kemalist Nationalism: Namık Kemal to Mustafa Kemal’, European History Quarterly, vol. 23, no. 2, 1993, pp. 165–92. 74. Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 332. 75. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, Atatürk’ün Söylev ve Demeçleri (Ankara: Atatürk Araştırma Merkezi, 1972) vol. 5, pp. 86–7; Ali Fuad Cebesoy, Sınıf Arkadaşım Atatürk Okul ve Genç Subaylık Hatıraları (İstanbul: İnkılap ve Aka, 1967) pp. 30–1. 76. Midhat Cemal Kuntay, Namık Kemal, vol. 1, p. 1. 77. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, Nutuk 1919–1927 (Ankara: Atatürk Araştırma Merkezi, 1991) p. 13. 78. At the Lausanne Conference of 1923 the Turkish Republic agreed to pay the share apportioned to it, which amounted to about 40 per cent of the prewar Ottoman public debt. For articles related to the Treaty of Lausanne see Lozan Sulh Muahedenamesinin Kabulüne Dair Kanunlar, Düstur, 3. Tertip, Cilt 5, 11 Ağustos 1339–19 Teşrin-i evvel 1340) (İstanbul: Necmi İkbal Matbaasi) 1931, Articles 46–57. While negotiations were continuing at Lausanne, Mustafa Kemal, in an address to the public, echoed the Young Ottomans and their The Protest and Repudiation of the Debt. After having summarized the stages of destructive borrowing policy pursued by

278

NOTES

79.

80. 81.

82. 83. 84. 85.

86. 87. 88. 89.

‘treacherous’ Ottoman statesmen and the palace, Mustafa Kemal stated that the Turkish nation had nothing to do with this debt. ‘Now we have been invited to Lausanne’, he concluded, ‘but there is nothing that the other parties may hold us responsible for’. ‘We reject to be considered responsible for the mistakes that were made in the past. Alas, it is us who are compelled to deal with the demands of the whole world today’ (Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, Gazi Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’ün 1923 Eskişehir-İzmit Konuşmaları, edited by A. İnan (Ankara: TTK Yayınları, 1982) pp. 93–6). PRO FO 881/1036, Report on the Financial Condition of Turkey, Mr Foster and Lord Hobart to Earl Russell, 7 December 1861, p. 18. See also FO 881/956 The Budget General des Recettes et des Depenses Ordinaires de l’Année 1860 as enclosure to Bulwer to Russell, 14 November 1860. Blaisdell, European Financial Control, p. 18. David Urquhart, ‘To His Imperial Majesty the Sultan: The Address of the Foreign Affairs Commitees of England’, Diplomatic Review, vol. 24, no. 1, January 1876, pp. 44–50, pp. 44–50. Also see PRO FO 78/2454 Elliot to Lord Derby, 13 January 1876. Çelik, Ali Suavi ve Dönemi, p. 134. PRO FO 78/2454 Butler Johnstone to Henry Elliot, 11 January 1876 enclosed to Elliot to Lord Derby, 13 January 1876. PRO FO 78/2454 Elliot to Butler Johnstone, 13 January 1876 enclosed to Elliot to Lord Derby, 13 January 1876. Ali Suavi, Huzur-ı Şevket Mevfur-ı Padişahiye İngiltere’de Umur-ı Ecnebiyye Komiteleri Canibinden Seksen, Dört Buçuk Milyon Liralık Hakk-ı Duyun Layihasıdır, Kabul Niyaziyle Arzuhal (Paris: No Publisher, January 1876). Ali Suavi, ‘Vakit Müdiri Efendiye’, Vakit, no. 445, 24 January 1877; Ali Suavi, ‘İstikraz-ı Ecnebiyye Netayici’, Vakit, no. 457, 5 February 1877. Henry Elliot, ‘The Death of Abdul Aziz and of Turkish Reform’, The Nineteenth Century, vol. 23, 1888, p. 283. Ziya Bey, ‘İki Mes’ele-i Mühimme, Bir Zat Tarafından’, Hürriyet, no. 80, Gurre-i Şevval 1286/3 January 1870. Ziya Bey, ‘Karınca Kanatlandı’, Hürriyet, 22 February 1869. Also see Ziya Bey, ‘Azirname’, Hürriyet, no. 66, 22 Cemaziyelahir 1286/27 September 1869; Ziya Bey, ‘Iki Mes’ele-i Mühimme Üzerine’, Hürriyet, no. 80, Gurre-i Şevval 1286/3 January 1870. There was indeed a rumour circulating in European diplomatic quarters that Abdülaziz was drifting into a state of insanity and it seems that Ali and Fuad Paşas, as Ziya asserted, played a role in spreading the rumour. Elliot, the British ambassador to the Porte then, looking back in the 1880s wrote: ‘Sultan Abdul Aziz had an undoubted predisposition to insanity in his blood. … He had himself, to my own knowledge, been out of his mind on several different occasions; the first time as far back as the year

279

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS

90. 91. 92. 93.

94.

95. 96. 97. 98. 99.

280

1863, when I find it mentioned in letters that I wrote from Athens, where I was on a special mission; and on two later occasions, within eighteen months of his deposition, I had spoken of his insanity in my letters to Lord Derby, reporting that I had been told of it, as an undoubted fact, by one of the ministers with whom I was intimate [emphasis mine], and mentioning some of the peculiarities by which it was exhibited’ (Elliot, ‘The Death of Abdul Aziz’, pp. 287–8). When Abdülaziz was dethroned in 1876, Queen Victoria in a letter to Disraeli wrote that she hoped that ‘If, as has been said [emphasis mine], the Sultan Abdul Aziz was not right in his mind, every allowance may be made for what has occurred’ (Buckle, Letters of Queen Victoria, pp. 456–7). Ziya, ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Âli Paşa’, Hürriyet, 11 October 1869. Mardin, Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, pp. 348–9. Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan diğer Mektup fi 20 Cemaziyelahire’, Hürriyet, no. 18, 10 Receb 1285/26 October 1868. Carter V. Findley, ‘Economic Bases of Revolution and Repression in the late Ottoman Empire’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, vol. 28, no. 1, 1986, p. 102. For examples see Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup fi 20 Cemaziyelahir’, Hürriyet, no. 17, 2 Receb 1285/19 October 1868; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’daki Muhabirlerimizden Birinin Birinci Mektubu fi 14 Cemaziyelahir’, Hürriyet, no. 18, 10 Receb 1285/26 October 1868; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup fi 13 Şaban, Hürriyet, no. 25, 30 Şaban 1285/14 December 1868; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan diğer Mektup fi 4 Ramazan’, Hürriyet, no. 28, 21 Ramazan 1285/4 January 1869; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup fi 15 Ramazan’, Hürriyet, no. 29, 28 Ramazan 1285/11 January 1869; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup fi 21 Muharrem’, Hürriyet, no. 48, 12 Safer 1286/24 May 1869; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup’, Hürriyet, no. 51, 4 Rebi-ül evvel 1286/14 June 1869; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Tahrirat fi 14 Receb’, Hürriyet, no. 72, 4 Şaban 1286/8 November 1869; Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Tahrirat fi 23 Receb’, Hürriyet, no. 74, 18 Şaban 1286/22 November 1869. Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup fi 7 Receb’, Hürriyet, no. 70, 19 Receb 1286/25 October 1869. Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Tahrirat Diğeri fi 13 Cemaziyelahir’, Hürriyet, no. 16, 25 Cemaziyelahir 1285/12 October 1868. Namık Kemal, ‘Bizde Adam Yetişmiyor’, Hürriyet, no. 25, 30 Şaban 1285/14 December 1868. Ziya Bey, Zafername, pp. 19–20, 153. Ziya, ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Ali Paşa-II’, Hürriyet, 18 October 1869; Ziya Bey, ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 81, 8 Şevval 1286/10 January 1870; Ziya Bey, ‘80.ve 81. Nüshalarda Münderiç ‘İki Mes’ele-i Mühimme’nin Mabadı’, Hürriyet, no. 82, 15 Şevval 1286/17 January 1870.

NOTES 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106.

107. 108.

109. 110.

111. 112.

Clay, Gold for the Sultan, pp. 107–115. Anonymous, ‘İstanbul’dan Tahrirat Diğeri fi 13 Cemaziyelahir’, Hürriyet, 12 October 1868. Ziya, ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Âli Paşa’, Hürriyet, 11 October 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘Muvazene-i Maliye I: Hidmet’, Hürriyet, no. 62, 22 Cemaziyelevvel 1286/30 August 1869. Namık Kemal, ‘Tuna Vilayeti’nde Bulunan Menfaat-i Umumiye Sandıklarına Dair Makaledir’, Tasvir-i Efkâr, no. 409, 18 Rebiülevvel 1283/19 July 1866. Namık Kemal, ‘Medeniyet’, İbret, no. 84, 1 January 1873. David Urquhart, Turkey and its Resources, its Municipal Organization and Free Trade: The State and Prospects of English Commerce in the East (London: Saunders & Otley,1833). PRO FO 78/249 Urquhart to Lord Palmerston, 23 January 1834, Fanar/Constantinople. David Urquhart, Progress of Russia in the West, North and South by Opening the Sources of Opinion and Appropriating the Channels of Wealth and Power (London: Trubner, 2nd edn, 1853) pp. 375, 380. Urquhart, The Growth of Russian Power, pp. 30–1. See Article 3 of the Convention of Commerce and Navigation between Her Britannic Majesty and the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Signed at Balta Liman, 16 August 1838, reproduced in Lewis Hertslet, Hertslet’s Commercial Treaties (London: Foreign Office, 1840) vol. 5, p. 508. For a detailed explanation of how ‘the most favoured nation’ clause in the treaty failed in practice to entitle Great Britain to the rights of the most favoured nation, see Charges against Viscount Palmerston by Mr Anstey, Commons, 23 February 1848, HPD, 3rd Series, XCVI, col.1179. See Charges against Viscount Palmerston by Mr Anstey, HPD, 3rd Series, XCVI, col. 1164. In a letter to Engels in March 1853 Marx wrote: ‘I am now reading Urquhart, the crazy MP, who declares in his book that Palmerston is in the pay of Russia. The explanation is simple, for this fellow is a Celtic Scot with a Lowland education, by nature a Romantic, by training a Free Trader.’ In another letter to Engels dated November 1853, Marx confessed that he had come to believe Urquhart’s theory that Palmerston was a Russian agent: ‘Curious as it may seem to you, after closely following the footprints of the noble viscount for the last twenty years, I have come to the same conclusion as this monomaniac Urquhart, namely that Palmerston has been bought by the Russians for several decades’ (Karl Marx, The Unknown Karl Marx: Documents Concerning Karl Marx, edited by Robert Payne (London: University of London Press, 1972) pp. 144–6).

281

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 113. 114. 115. 116. 117.

118. 119. 120.

121. 122. 123. 124. 125.

126. 127.

Karl Marx, The Story of the Life of Lord Palmerston (London: Swan Sonnenschern, 1889) pp. 55–7. Urquhart, The Lebanon, vol. 1, pp. 296–8. Urquhart, Progress of Russia in the West, pp. 382–5. Lord Ponsonby, Lord Ponsonby’s Testament in Tucker’s Political Fly-sheets (London: Trubner, 1855) p. viii. For details see Charges against Viscount Palmerston by Mr Anstey, Commons, 23 February 1848, HPD, 3rd Series, XCVI, cols. 1132–1241. Thomas Chisholm Anstey had been a devoted follower of Urquhart. After he introduced the motion to impeach Palmerston, Anstey was made attorney general of Hong Kong, after his attendance at Lady Palmerston’s Saturdays. This led Urquhart to say that he had been ‘betrayed by a lemon ice’. See Lord Calingford and Mr Fortescue, A Selection from the Diaries from 1851 to 1862 of Chichester Fortescue, Lord Carlingford, KP, edited by Osbert Wyndham Hewett (London: John Murray, 1958) p. 73. Charges against Viscount Palmerston by Mr Anstey, cols. 71–7. Richard Shannon, ‘David Urquhart and the Foreign Affairs Commitees’, p. 247. Ali Suavi, ‘Türkiye’de Maadin’, Ulûm, no. 1, 1870; Ali Suavi, ‘Ekonomi, Ulûm, no. 7, 1870; Ali Suavi, ‘Memalik-i Osmaniyye’de Pamuk Hasılatı’, Ulûm, no. 12, 1870; Ali Suavi, ‘Sanayi-i Der Memalik-i Osmaniyye’, Ulûm, no. 12, 1870; Ali Suavi, ‘Memalik-i Osmaniyye’de Ticaret’, Ulûm, no. 12, 1870; Ali Suavi, ‘Demokrasi, Hükümet-i Halk, Müsavat’, Ulûm, no. 18, 1870; Ali Suavi, ‘Avrupa, İtiraz, Meşihat’, Ulûm, no. 19, 1870. Donald Blaisdell, European Financial Control, p. 80. State of Turkey, House of Commons, 18 June 1875, HPD, 3rd Series, CCXXV, 16 June to 23 July 1875, Mr J. R. Yorke, cols 191–2. Clay, Gold for the Sultan, p. 282. Ibid., p. 88. Butrus Abu-Manneh, ‘The Sultan and the Bureaucracy: The anti-Tanzimat Concepts of Grand Vizier Mahmud Nedim Paşa’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 22, 1990, p. 257. Clay, Gold for the Sultan, p. 302. Wilson ‘The Turkish Default’, p. 88.

5. Concluding Remarks 1. 2. 3.

282

Cunningham, ‘Stratford Canning and the Tanzimat’, p. 247. Ibid., p. 247. Rifat N. Bali, ‘Türk Yahudiliği Tarihi ve İçerdikleri Tarih’, Toplumsal Tarih, vol. 33, 1996, p. 57. See also, Ayhan Aktar, Varlık Vergisi ve Türkleştirme

NOTES

4. 5.

6. 7.

Politikaları (İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 2000); Faik Ökte, Varlık Vergisi: Faciası (İstanbul: Nebioğlu Yayınevi, 1951). Faik Ökte, Varlık Vergisi: Faciası (İstanbul: Nebioğlu Yayınevi, 1951) p. 52. Since March 2003 on the basis of the reciprocity principle, citizens of countries that recognize the right of Turkish citizens or legal entities to own real estate in their countries are allowed to own real estate in Turkey. See Maliye Bakanlığınca Hazırlanan ve Cesitli Kanunlarda Değişiklik Yapılması Hakkındaki Kanun Tasarısı Uyarınca 4706 Sayılı Kanunda Değişiklik, 6 March 2003. See Anonymous, ‘Yabancılara Mülk Satışı Durdu’, Hürriyet, 27 Temmuz/July 2005. Emin Çölaşan, ‘Ankara’da Bir Rezalet Daha’, Hürriyet, 8 June 2005.

283

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297

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301

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS ‘Yeni Osmanlıların İlan-ı Resmiyesi’, Hürriyet, no. 16, 25 Cemaziyelahir 1285/12 October 1868. ‘İstanbul’dan Mektup’, Hürriyet, no. 17, 3 Receb 1285/19 October 1868. ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 18, 10 Receb 1285/26 October 1868. ‘İstikraz-i Cedide Üzerine Yeni Osmanlılar Cemiyetinin Mütalaatı’, Hürriyet, no. 22, 12 Şaban 1285/23 November 1868. ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 34, 3 Zilkade 1285/15 February 1869. ‘Karınca Kanatlandı’, Hürriyet, no. 35, 10 Zilkade 1285/22 February 1869. ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 42, 29 Zilhicce 1285/12 April 1869. ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 45, 21 Muharrem 1286/ 3 May 1869. ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 48, 12 Safer 1286/24 May 1869. ‘Hidmet-i Askeriyye’, Hürriyet, no. 53, 18 Rebi-ül evvel 1286/28 June 1869. ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 55, 2 Rebi-ül ahir 1286/12 July 1869. ‘Hatıra’, Hürriyet, no. 62, 22 Cemaziyelevvel 1286/30 August 1869. ‘Azirname’, Hürriyet, no. 66, 22 Cemaziyelahir 1286/27 September 1869. ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Âli Paşa’, Hürriyet, no. 68, 5 Receb 1286/11 October 1869. ‘Sultan Aziz Han, Ziya Bey, Ali Paşa-II’, Hürriyet, no. 69, 12 Receb 1286/18 October 1869. ‘İki Mes’ele-i Mühimme, Bir Zat Tarafından’, Hürriyet, no. 80, Gurre-i Şevval 1286/3 January 1870. ‘Iki Mes’ele-i Mühimme Üzerine’, Hürriyet, no. 80, Gurre-i Şevval 1286/3 January 1870. ‘No Title’, Hürriyet, no. 81, 8 Şevval 1286/10 January 1870. ‘80.ve 81. Nüshalarda Münderiç ‘İki Mes’ele-i Mühimme’nin Mabadı’, Hürriyet, no. 82, 15 Şevval 1286/17 January 1870. ‘80, 81 ve 82. Nüshalarda Münderiç İki Mes’ele-i Mühimme’nin Mabadı’, Hürriyet, no. 83, 22 Sevval 1286/24 January 1870. ‘Fi Şevval Tarihiyle İstanbul’dan Tahrirat’, Hürriyet, no. 83, 22 Şevval 1286/24 January 1870.

302

Index _______

Abdülaziz, Sultan, 38, 43, 46, 69, 89, 97, 123, 159, 189, 207–8, 211–14, 231–4, 236 Abdülhamid II, Sultan, 44, 46, 49–50, 64, 89, 92, 160, 200, 213, 234, 236 Abdüllatif Paşa, 42 Abdülmecid, Sultan, 183–4, 211 Adana, 46 Adrianople, Treaty of, 14, 52, 227 Agâh Bey, 38, 40, 51, 57 Agâh Efendi, 38 Ahmed Paşa, Fethi, 20, 183 Alexander the Great, 79, 104 Âli Paşa, 4–5, 23, 30–1, 40, 42–3, 45–6, 48, 60, 74, 80–1, 85–7, 89–90, 99–107, 111, 113, 122, 125, 155–6, 169, 176, 183, 190, 194, 200, 211–12, 218–19 Amasya, 45 Anatolia, 9, 47, 114, 122, 146–8, 150, 207, 225 Andrássy, Count, 17, 112, 161 Anglo-Turkish Trade Treaty, 12, 224, 226 Anstey, Thomas Chisolm, 229 Arabia, 59, 106 Argyll, Duke of, 90–1 Arkadi, 74, 105 Asia, 53, 137, 148 Asia Minor, 200 Asım Bey, Mustafa, 42 Ata Bey, 47 Athens, 100, 175 Atwood, Thomas, 55 Australia, 174

Austria, 2, 75, 87–9, 101, 110, 112, 139, 145, 189 Ayetullah Bey, 38 Bakhtin, Mikhail, 18, 243 n.25 Balkans, 14, 50 Balta Limanı Treaty, 181–3, 186, 224, 226, 228–30 Bank Imperiale Ottomane (BIO), 218, 232 Banque Impériale Ottomane, 194 Beirut, 55 Belgium, 79 Belgrade, 21, 73, 85 Bentham, Jeremy, 52 Berlin, 77, 160 Beust, Count, 112 Bihruz Bey, 164, 166, 196–8, 201–2, 213, 215, 217–18 Black Sea, 4, 48 Bosnia, 112, 159, 235 Bosporus, 98, 148, 216 bourgeoisie, 24, 28, 177 Bourget, Paul, 21 Bourrée, Ambassador, 142, 143 Braelangwell, 52 Briggs, Asa, 173 Brighton, 4, 97 Britain, 1–4, 13–14, 31, 50, 53–5, 64–5, 67, 73–5, 79–82, 84, 86, 88–9, 91, 93, 96, 100–1, 108, 110, 112, 128, 142–4, 146, 159, 173, 189–90, 200, 225–8, 230, 232, 234–5 British Empire, 4, 175 Bruce, Mr, 232

303

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Buckingham Palace, 69, 86, 93–5 Büchner, Georg, 21 Bulgaria, 106, 159 Bulwer, Sir H., 142, 190 Bursa, 47, 148, 150 Butler Johnstone, A. Munro, 59, 208, 210, 230 Caesar, Julius, 104–5 Cahun, Leon, 106 Candia, 74 Canik, 122 Canning, Stratford, aka Stratford de Redcliffe, 52, 55, 183–4 capitalism, 22, 169, 176–80, 185 capitulations, 10, 22, 34, 135–6, 139–40, 142–3, 146, 149, 152–3, 162, 169, 186, 240 Carlingford, Lord, 56 Carlyle, Thomas, 67, 173 Carthage, 175 Caucasus, 51, 54 Central Asia, 54 Cevdet Paşa, Ahmed, 123, 128, 183 Chartists, 55 Chatterjee, Partha, 37 China, 59, 202 Circassia, 51, 54, 95 Clarendon, Lord, 73, 184 Clay, Christopher, 233 Cochrane (Dundonald), Lord, 52 Collet, C. Dobson, 55 Committee of Union and Progress, 152, 237 Concert of Europe, 82, 109, 115, 153 Constantinople, 51, 53, 65, 89, 138, 160, 171 constitutionalism, 8 Crawshay, Mr, 93 Crédit Mobilier, 194 Crete, 13, 17, 59–61, 71–6, 78–84, 87–9, 91–2, 94–6, 98–100, 102, 104–8, 190, 193; Cretan insurrection, 10, 12, 21, 23,

304

59–60, 71–4, 76–7, 78, 81–6, 90–2, 94–6, 98, 100, 102, 105, 107–8, 126, 135, 144, 176, 239 Crimea, 101, 193; Crimean War, 2, 15, 56, 81, 109, 127, 136, 148, 184, 201, 232 Cromarty, 52 Cyprus, 43, 45, 85, 87, 139, 239; Cyprus Convention, 81 Çırağan, 50, 156, 210; Çırağan plot, 170 Davison, Roderic H., 137 Davud Paşa İskelesi, 47 de Lacy Evans, George, 65 de Lyhus, Drouyn, 184 de Moustier, M., 81, 88–9, 92, 144–5 democracy, 8, 157, 164–5 Dent, Palmer & Company, 185 Derby, Earl of, 74, 91 Deutsche Bank, 200 Diplomatic Review, 49–50, 56, 58, 61, 94–6, 98, 108, 159 Disraeli, Benjamin, 4, 80, 210 Diyojen, 43 Dungarvon, 230 Eastern Mediterranean, 1, 79, 128 Eastern Question, 1, 3–8, 10–12, 17–19, 28–9, 31, 34–6, 56, 64, 69, 71, 73, 79, 84, 102, 108, 115, 128, 134, 169–70, 185, 201, 209, 232, 235, 237 Egypt, 13, 38, 89, 92, 106, 183–4, 205, 228 Ekrem, Ali, 206 Ekrem, Recaizade Mahmut, 196 Elliot, Sir Henry, 101, 145, 210 England, 3, 52, 53, 55, 58, 69, 86, 90, 94, 99, 145, 162, 173–5, 177, 183, 208, 210, 225–6, 230, 235 Enlightenment, 9, 223 Erzurum, 42, 85 Euphrates Valley, 81

INDEX European Union, 240 Farley, Lewis, 147 Fatin Efendi, 45 Fazıl, Mustafa, 38–43, 45, 48, 85, 87, 92, 97, 99, 102, 192, 236 Fehmi, Hasan, 159 Feridüddin Efendi, 44 Ferik Edhem Paşa, 45 Filibe, 47 First World War, 123, 205 Foreign Affairs Committee (FAC), 48, 56, 58, 93–4, 97, 171, 208–10, 230 Fortescue, Harriet Angelina, 56 France, 2, 13–15, 31, 49, 52, 54, 68, 72–4, 79, 81–2, 84, 86–9, 92, 99–101, 106, 110, 142–5, 149, 151, 177, 183, 187, 189, 193, 200, 208, 235 Franco-Prussian War, 48 Fuad Paşa, 4–5, 20, 23, 30, 42, 45, 59, 69, 75–6, 86, 88–90, 92–4, 97, 99, 103, 108–9, 113, 122, 125, 128, 143, 156, 169, 189–90, 193–4, 200, 204, 211–12, 218–19, 233 Galanté, Abraham, 239 Galatasaray, 50 Gaspar, Samatyalı, 135, 139 Gelibolu, 43 General Credit, 218 Geneva, 46, 57, 64, 156 Genoa, 175 George Bell & Company, 54 Germany, 52–3, 177, 200 Gibbon, Edward, 69 Gladstone, William, 59, 90–1, 112, 148, 161, 184 Glasgow, 230 Gloucestershire, 232 Gökalp, Ziya, 9 Gortchakoff, Prince, 75 Grand Turkish National Assembly, 9

Great Powers, 1, 3, 5, 14–15, 18–23, 73–4, 81–2, 88, 95, 100, 115, 117, 120, 128–9, 141–2, 146, 152–4, 161, 169, 176, 205 great tradition, 25, 26, 27, 28, 32, 115, 156, 166, 179, 196, 197, 209 Greece, 52, 72–4, 76, 78–9, 81–2, 88, 92, 94, 99–101, 103, 105–7, 124, 239 Greek revolt, 12–13, 78 Griffith, Darby, 91 Gülhane Rescript, 16, 110, 113, 116, 119, 122, 183, 186 Halil Şerif Paşa, 38, 43 Halil, Patrona, 115, 196, 203, 209 Hatt-ı Humayun, 77 Herzegovina, 21, 235 Houghton, Walter E., 66 House of Commons, 55, 93, 112, 232 Hünkar İskelesi, Treaty of, 13 Hürriyet, 38–9, 41, 43, 46, 48, 61, 80, 98–9, 102, 106, 108, 133, 155, 161, 192, 194, 202, 204, 211, 214–15 Hüseyin Ağa, 47 Hume, David, 69 İbret, 43, 205 identic note, 74–5, 84, 89, 92 imperialism, 33–4, 176, 178, 199 India, 3, 59, 136 Industrial Revolution, 177 Ionian Islands, 73 Ireland, 98 Islahat Fermanı, 77, 110–18, 119, 121–3, 126, 131–2, 142–3, 148, 161–2, 169 Islamism, 8–9, 184 Istanbul, 5, 13–14, 23, 35, 40–9, 51–5, 69, 86–7, 89, 94, 97, 100, 110–11, 130–1, 133, 135–6, 138, 142, 145–9, 160, 174, 188–9, 195, 202, 208, 210–11, 213,

305

THE YOUNG OTTOMANS 215–16, 225; Istanbul Conference, 17 Italy, 2, 52, 69, 72, 75, 80, 87, 89, 101, 193 İbrahim Paşa, 13, 203 İnönü, Second Battle of, 206 İsmail, Khedive, 38, 48, 89, 92 İzmir, 188 Janissaries, 12, 157, 186 Japan, 32–4, 178 Jews, 109, 239 Kararname-i Âli, 5, 23 Kastamonu, 48, 85 Katsunan, Kuga, 33 Kemal, Mustafa, 9, 206 Kemal, Namık, 9, 11, 25–7, 31, 35, 38–9, 41–8, 60–4, 76–9, 81–5, 87, 92, 95, 97–9, 102–4, 106–7, 117–18, 124, 133, 140–1, 146, 148–54, 156–7, 161–8, 174, 180–1, 190–3, 197–8, 202, 204–6, 210–11, 213–15, 217, 219–20, 222, 224, 236 Konduri–ltuncu plot, 106 Konya, 46 Krupp, Gustav, 200 Kuleli event, 157 Kuntay, Midhat Cemal, 39 Layard, Austen Henry, 50, 130, 136, 170 Le Play, Frédéric, 57 Lebanon, 20, 55, 73, 189 Leopold, Prince, 52 Liberal Party, 112 liberalism, 8–9 little tradition, 20, 25–7, 32, 64, 114–15, 154, 158, 164, 170, 196–7, 203, 215, 222 London, 4, 11, 14, 16, 26, 46, 48, 51, 54, 56, 58, 60–1, 67, 79, 86, 91–4, 97–8, 106, 144, 150, 159, 167, 174, 185, 187, 192, 208, 216 London Convention, 13

306

London Statistics Society, 4 Lowery, Robert, 55 Luxemburg, Rosa, 88, 199 Lyons, 48, 92 Lyons, Lord, 76, 86–9, 101, 143–5 Macaulay, T. B., 173, 175 Magosa, 43 Mahmud II, Sultan, 12–13, 182 Manchester Working Men’s Association, 4 Mann, Michael, 67, 244 n.33 Mardin, Şerif, 7, 25, 27, 39, 77, 108, 179, 196 Maronites, 21, 55 Marseilles, 52, 92, 192 Marx, Karl, 66–7, 178, 227, 229 Maximillian, Emperor, 92 Mecca, 47, 114 Mediterranean, 14, 72, 200, 234 Mehmed Ali Paşa, 13–14, 38, 40, 53, 55, 74, 183, 228–9 Mehmed Bey, 38 Mehmet Cemil Paşa, 92 Meiji, 32, 34, 164, 178 Meiji Restoration, 32 mercantilism, 140, 182 Mexico, 80, 92, 193 Midhat, Ahmed, 21, 38 Midhat Paşa, 44, 46, 49, 213 Midilli, 44 Mill, John Stuart, 173 Molière, 68, 127 Montenegro, 21, 106 Moscow, 65 Muhbir, 38–40, 45, 47–8, 58, 60–1, 85, 98–9, 108, 144, 161, 192, 194, 208 Murad, Prince, 43, 46, 89; as Murad V, 50 Mustafa Naili Paşa, 74 Mustafa Paşa, 75 Mustafa Reşid Paşa, 15 Mustafa, Kabakçı, 115, 196, 209 Naples, 90

INDEX Napoleon, Emperor, 74, 80, 86, 92, 193, 203 Navarino, 12, 73, 75 Near East, 3–4, 14, 53, 56, 74, 80, 161, 225, 232, 237 Nedim Paşa, Mahmud, 43, 46, 128, 159, 231, 233, 236 Newcastle, 230 Nice, 57, 64 Nuri Bey, 38, 40, 43 Palgrave, William Gifford, 114, 137 Palmerston, Viscount, 3, 14, 53–5, 67, 163, 227, 229, 235 Paris, 12, 15–16, 39–42, 45, 48, 51, 79, 82, 86–7, 89–90, 92, 98, 101, 110, 144–5, 150, 160, 187, 191–2, 198, 204, 210, 236; Conference, 94, 102, 104, 107, 109, 115; Treaty, 12, 15, 77, 88, 110–13, 161, 209 Patriotic Alliance, 33, 38–9, 76, 85 People’s Rights Movement, 178 Péreire, Emile and Isaac, 194 Persia, 54 Photiades Bey, 101 Plato, 165 Poland, 95, 171 Ponsonby, Lord, 53–4, 229 Portfolio, 54 Portsmouth, 93 Poulett Thomson, Mr, 228–9 Prussia, 2, 75, 80, 89, 101, 151 Public Debt Administration, 205, 231, 234 Radicalism, 66 Ramazan Kararnamesi, 231 Redcliffe, Stratford de, see under Canning, Stratford aka Stratford de Redcliffe Redfield, Robert, 25 Refik, 38 Refik Bey, 38 Renan, Ernest, 68 Reşad, 38, 40

Reşad Bey, 38 Reşid Paşa, 44–5, 113, 128, 132, 183 Retimo, 75 Ricardo, David, 178 Rifat, 40 Rıza, Ali, 9 Robertson, William, 69 Rodos (Rhodes), 44 Rome, 57, 90 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 68 Rüstem Bey, 69, 90, 94, 255 n.54 Russell, Lord John, 188, 207 Russia, 2–3, 12–15, 50, 53–6, 65, 69, 72–4, 77, 79–82, 84, 87–9, 95–6, 101, 109–10, 117, 124, 135, 151, 170–1, 183, 186, 194, 224–6, 228–30, 234 Russo-Turkish War, 50, 52, 80 Said, Edward, 6 Saint-Clair, S. G. B., 167, 171 St Clair, 49 St John’s College, Oxford, 52 St Petersburg, Convention of, 53 Sakız (Chios), 44 Salisbury, Lord, 170, 190 Samatya, 139 Sami Paşa, 47, 210 San Stefano, Treaty of, 50, 81 Sandwith, Humphry, 136–7 Saraçoğlu, Prime Minister, 239 Schorger, William, 17 secularism, 8 Seikyosha, 33–4 Selim III, Sultan, 42 Senior, Nassau, 127, 147, 148 Serbian insurrection, 12 Setsurei, Miyake, 33 Sforza, 9 Shannon, Richard, 230 Shayegan, Daryush, 24, 165 Sheil, Mr, 230 Shigetaka, Shiga, 33 Simav, 47 Smith, Adam, 178

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THE YOUNG OTTOMANS Société Générale, 192, 204 Society of Sem-ü Ta’at, 49 Sofia, 42, 47 Spain, 45, 52, 99 Stafford, 55, 229 Stanley, Lord, 74, 87–9, 91–2, 108, 143, 151, 194, 202–3 Straits Convention, 14 Suavi, Ali, 11, 26, 31–2, 38–42, 45–50, 58–62, 64, 85, 92, 97–9, 106, 108, 132, 154–62, 164–6, 168, 170, 192, 197, 208–11, 220, 222–5, 230, 236, 250 Suez Canal, 81 Sultaniye, 89, 91 Switzerland, 79 Syria, 13, 20, 46, 55, 188, 190 Şehzade mosque, 47 Şemseddin Bey, 42 Şer’iat, 21, 63, 64, 113, 117, 118, 121, 157, 158, 164, 165 Şinasi, 42, 87 Tanzimat, 5–6, 16–17, 20, 23, 25–6, 28–9, 31, 34, 37, 42, 50, 56, 63, 68, 73, 81, 113–14, 117, 121–2, 125, 127–9, 132, 134, 140, 156–7, 163, 166, 168–70, 179–80, 182–3, 186–7, 196–200, 202, 209, 217, 233 Tasvir-i Efkâr, 38, 42, 45, 76, 85, 102, 190 Taylor, Herbert, 52, 54 Tekirdağ, 42 Temple Union, 171 Tevfik, Ebuzziya, 38–9 Thackeray, William, 174 Toulon, 91 Trabzon, 114, 122 Translation Bureau, 38, 42, 44, 68, 133, 156 Tunisia, 204, 207 Turkey, 8, 35, 39, 51, 53–4, 58–9, 62, 67, 74, 80–1, 90–3, 95–6, 99, 101, 108, 112, 116, 125, 127, 136, 143, 145–7, 151, 158, 160,

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162, 167, 171, 187, 192, 200, 208–9, 225–8, 230, 232, 239–40 Turkish Independence War, 206 Turkish Republic, 8, 201, 207, 237–8, 240 Turkism, 8, 9 Tuscany, 90 Tuscany, Duke of, 69 Tyre, 175 Ukichi, Taguchi, 34, 178 Ulûm, 38, 41, 48, 230 Urquhart, David, 11, 41, 48–9, 51–8, 61–7, 69, 90–1, 93–5, 108, 134–5, 158–64, 166–8, 170, 208–10, 224–30, 236 Urquhart, Harriet, 58, 69, 90, 95 Urquhartites, 10–11, 32, 49, 56, 59–61, 67, 93, 95–8, 108, 135, 158, 162, 166, 168, 170, 228, 230–1 usul-ü meşveret, 31, 34, 42–3, 116, 118, 125, 152–3, 165, 213, 219–20, 223–4, 236 Üsküdar, 147, 217 Varlık Vergisi, 238 Vatican Council, 57 Vefik Paşa, 68 Venice, 175 Victor Emmanuel, Emperor, 90 Victoria, Queen, 93, 226 Vienna, 160, 192 Vixen, 54 War of Independence, 52, 82 Washburn, George, 68 Wells, Charles, 58, 60–1, 93–5, 98–9 Western Question, 4, 6 Whitebrook, Maureen, 28 William IV, King, 52, 55, 67, 163, 225–6, 228 Wilson, Sir Robert, 65 Windsor Palace, 93, 225

INDEX Woolwich, 93 Yorke, J. R., 232 Youghal, 229 Young Ottoman Society, 33, 38–41, 43, 48 Young Turks, 123, 152, 200, 214 Yusuf İzzeddin Efendi, 89

Zafername, 104, 106, 218 Ziya Bey, 11, 25–7, 31, 37–9, 41–2, 44–6, 48, 60–4, 85, 87, 92, 97, 99, 104–6, 117–20, 124, 131–2, 134–5, 139, 152, 154, 156–7, 161–8, 177–8, 180, 193, 195–9, 201, 210–11, 213–15, 218–19, 222, 224, 231, 236, 247 n.67

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