Sultan’s Seal on Gate of Felicity Topkapi Palace Istanbul
I admit to a passion for the Ottomans. Exploring the sultan’s palace in Topkapi, Istanbul a few weeks ago, I envisioned myself living in the lap of luxury, reclining on cushions being served figs and dates by eunuchs and only awaiting the birth of the son which would elevate my status to favored wife of the sultan. Beating in the breast of every stout-hearted feminist there is a harem woman, isn’t there? Okay maybe it’s just me.
When I visited Istanbul in 2006, I fell in love with the symbol above, the ‘tugra’ or ‘sultan’s seal’. It is a glorious celebration of Islamic calligraphy, that art-form which developed in a culture where painting or drawing the human visage was forbidden, in order to avoid idolatry. If you look at the tugra closely, it resembles backwards ‘sssss’. Perhaps it’s the curves, the grace, the, ah, Gold. In 2006, I headed to the gold bazaar near the Grand Bazaar and bargained for a pendant of the tugra, which I wear frequently.
The tugra is positioned on the front of Turkish royal palaces like the one pictured below on the front gate of Dolmabache palace.
Dolmabache Palace Sultan’s Seal, Istanbul
I had never visited Dolmabache before this current trip to Istanbul, and I could just imagine a visiting European royal’s boat approaching the palace from the Bosporus—-
Bosporus view of Dolmabache Palace from ferry
docking at one of the filigreed gates—–
Four river gates welcomed esteemed visitors to the Sultan
approaching up the sweeping stairs—
Two pairs of curving travertine staircases led to palace doorway
and then entering….what?…..Something about Dolmabache was…….empty. Of course it was filled with luxurious Ottoman furnishings, but it gave me an experience of what I’ve found missing in Turkish culture sometimes: soul. Dolmabache’s architect had tried to transport European understandings of monarchical display to this Middle Eastern environment. The Turkish spirit was missing, the Turkish soul. The architect designed a palace that European royals would recognize as impactful display, but which lacked the self-confidence of the Turkish people. “We’re trying hard to be like you”, the palace seemed to say to visiting Eu-royals. Why?
In my “State and the Veil” class yesterday, the class members created a meme, a cultural symbol expressing dense meaning. The meme was ‘geopolitical theatre’. We were discussing why Ataturk in 1923 was so interested in 1. eliminating the Islamic headscarf, and 2. altering the Turkish alphabet from its base on Arabic letters to Roman characters–why did he need to make those changes to ‘modernize’, why not just modernize technologically?, educationally? militarily? bureaucratically? We came up with this idea: Perhaps he wanted to display to his European audience (potential investors, future military raiders) similitude. In the biological world some animal species will camouflage themselves to look like the predator so they aren’t perceived as prey. Might Roman letters and ‘modern’ women cue likeness, and thus, safety?
It takes work to discern a national identity, and Turkey has been in positions where this work couldn’t come easily–post-World War 1, Russia on the right flank, Europe on it’s left–but as Erdogan ends his reign in 2015, perhaps another opportunity to reassess their identity can surface. In the meantime, I was just happy to experience the Turkish attempt at geopolitical camouflage on a gorgeous day at Dolmabache Palace. And about status-elevating mimicry and self-display, isn’t that why I bought my gold tugra to begin with?
J’ai arrive`!