An Ottoman Tragedy studies on the history of society and culture Victoria E. Bonnell and Lynn Hunt, Editors An Ottoman Tragedy History and Historiography at Play gabriel piterberg University of California Press berkeley los angeles london University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England © 2003 by the Regents of the University of California Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Piterberg, Gabriel, 1955– An Ottoman tragedy : history and historiography at play / Gabriel Piterberg. p. cm.—(Studies on the history of society and culture ; 50) Includes bibliographical references and index. isbn 0–520 –23836 –2 (cloth) 1. Turkey—History. 2. Historiography—Turkey. I. Title. II. Series. dr438.8 .p58 2003 956Ј.015—dc21 2002152983 Manufactured in the United States of America 12 11 10 09 08 07 06 05 04 03 10987654 321 The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48 –1992 (R 1997) (Permanence of Paper). ᭺ϱ For Uri, who puts things in perspective, and to my parents Soon as I beheld thee, mazed and wildered grew my sad heart; How shall I my love disclose to thee who tyrant dread art? How shall I hold straight upon my road, when yonder Torment Smitten hath my breast with deadly wounds by her eyelash-dart? Face, a rose; and mouth, a rosebud; form, a slender sapling— How shall I not be the slave of Princess such as thou art? Ne’er hath heart a beauty seen like her of graceful figure; Joyous would I for yon charmer’s eyebrow with my life part. Farisi, what can you do but love that peerless beauty? Ah! this aged Sphere hath made me lover of yon sweetheart. A Gazel written in 1622 by Farisi (Sultan Osman II’s mahlas or pseudonym), published and translated by E. J. W. Gibb. Was it dedicated to Sultan Osman’s beloved, Akile, daughter of the Sheyhülislam Esad Efendi? The skeptical theses based on the reduction of historiography to its narrative or rhetorical dimension have been in circulation for a few decades, even if their roots, as we shall see, are more ancient. In general, the theoreticians of historiography who propose them care little for the concrete work of historians. But even historians, aside from some token homage to a “linguistic turn” or “rhetorical turn” currently in vogue, are scarcely inclined to reflect on the theoretical implications of their own profession. Rarely has the chasm between methodological reflection and actual historiographical practice been as pronounced as in the last few decades. It seems that the only way to overcome it is to take the challenge of the skeptics seriously and attempt to articulate the point of view of those who work in contact with documents, in the broadest sense of the term. My solution transfers to the actuality of research the tensions between narration and documentation. It does not propose a rapprochement between theoreticians and historians, and probably will displease them both. carlo ginzburg, History, Rhetoric, and Proof In the preceding tale, I have tried to narrate the process of failure, the process of defeat. I thought first of that archbishop of Canterbury who set himself the task of proving that God exists; then I thought of the alchemists who sought the philosopher’s stone; then of the vain trisectors of the angle and squarers of the circle. Then I reflected that a more poetic case than these would be a man who sets himself a goal that is not forbidden to other men, but is forbidden to him. I recalled Averroës, who, bounded within the circle of Islam, could never know the meaning of the words tragedy and comedy. I told his story; as I went on, I felt what that god mentioned by Burton must have felt—the god who set himself the task of creating a bull but turned out a buffalo. I felt that the work mocked me, foiled me, thwarted me. I felt that Averroës, trying to imagine what a play is without ever having suspected what a theater is, was no more absurd than I, trying to |imagine Averroës yet with no more material than a few snatches from Renan, Lane, and Asín Palacios. I felt, on the last page, that my story was a symbol of the man I had been as I was writing it, and that in order to write that story I had had to be that man, and that in order to be that man I had had to write that story, and so on, ad infinitum. (And just when I stop believing in him, “Averroës” disappears.) jorge luis borges, “Avërroes’ Search” Contents Acknowledgments xi A Note on Transliteration xv Introduction: The Content and Form of This Study 1 iipart i. foundations 1. The Plot 9 2. The Formation and Study of Ottoman Historiography 30 3. An Interpretive Framework 50 ipart ii. historiography 4. Tug˘i’s Representation of the Haile-i Osmaniye: The Perspective of the Imperial Army 71 5. The Formation of Alternative Narratives: Hasanbeyzade and Peçevi 91 6. The Conception of the State Narrative 114 part iii. the state 7. The Early Modern Ottoman State: History and Theory 135 8. The Ottoman State as a Discursively Contested Field 163 Epilogue: Poetics of Ottoman Historiography: Preliminary Notes 185 ix x/Contents Glossary 201 Notes 207 Bibliography 233 Index 243 Acknowledgments I was extremely fortunate to have been taught by outstanding scholars, who have become colleagues and friends. Deeply thanking them is a plea- sure. At Tel-Aviv University Ehud R. Toledano introduced me to the his- torical discipline in general and to the aja’ib of the Ottoman world in par- ticular. The role he played in launching my academic career and forming my intellect cannot be overstated. Although substantially rethought and reworked, this study began as a D.Phil. thesis. Richard C. Repp, the Mas- ter of St. Cross College, was my D.Phil. advisor at Oxford, but he was much more than that. His insightful and humane guidance was a constant source of inspiration and encouragement. The taxing tutorials with Dr. Repp in reading Ottoman texts at the Oriental Institute and at St. Cross College were an experience I cherish and sorely miss. The gist of Dr. Repp’s guid- ance was his comment on a rather pompous paper I had submitted on the theory of historiography, in which “to ponder, “pondering,” and “ponder- ous” had been excessively used. “My dear boy,” Dr. Repp remarked wryly, “Sir Isaiah Berlin ponders, you consider.” If the present book has redeem- ing qualities, these two teachers ought to be accredited. Israel Gershoni has been an inspiring teacher and a supportive friend, in whose seminars I became familiar with the attempts to reinvigorate intel- lectual history and the debates that issued from these attempts. I hope he recognizes his contribution to certain parts of this book. At Oxford I had the privilege of being exposed to the unique method of teaching— that sensitive, subtle, and understated dialogue whose significance one might appreciate weeks if not months later— of the late Albert Hourani and Roger Owen. I cannot forget how through a couple of suggestions for fur- ther reading and seemingly ordinary remarks Roger Owen made me think about the state in ways I had never explored. xi xii / Acknowledgments James Gelvin’s friendship and encouragement have meant a lot, and his comments on the manuscript of this book were invaluable. I doubt that apart from myself anyone read that manuscript as thoroughly and fre- quently as Jim did. The friendship and shared political concerns I have been lucky to have with Joel Beinin, Zachary Lockman, and Ilan Pappé have been a source of solace and hope in hard times. The period I taught at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev was not an easy one, but I left there friends—faculty, staff, and students—who con- tributed in ways unknown to them to the writing of this book, friends in whose debt I forever remain. I wish to acknowledge in particular Aref Abu Rabia, Ismail Abu Saad, Muhammad Abu Saad, Debbie Israel, Uri Poznan- ski, Haggay Ram, Amnon Raz-Krakotzkin, Haya Sasportas-Bombaji, Tal Shuval, Aliza Uzan-Swissa, and Dror Ze’evi. The welcome extended to me by UCLA as a whole and the History De- partment in particular offered, for the first time in my academic career, a perfect environment for completing the writing of this book. For this I am deeply grateful to the chair, Brenda Stevenson, and to the whole depart- ment. The weekly Colloquium of European History and Culture at UCLA became my intellectual home in which I was invited to present the gist of the present book and received numerous helpful comments and sugges- tions. I am indebted to the regular participants of the colloquium, Patrick Geary, Lynn Hunt, Margaret Jacob, Teofilo Ruiz, David Sabean, Debora Sil- verman, and Geoffrey Symcox, and to the graduate students and guest speakers. Lynn Hunt and Geoffrey Symcox additionally read drafts of the manuscript and offered both kind encouragement and helpful criticism, for which I am very grateful. The colloquium also made it clear to me that there are eminent scholars in other fields who are genuinely interested in what Ottoman historians have to say. The two readers of the University of California Press wrote encouraging reports and offered extremely helpful comments. I also thank Lynne E. Withey, Director of the Press, for her advice and wisdom, and Lynn Hunt, for her suggestion to include this book in the University of California Press series of which she is the editor, Social and Cultural History.