Violence, Ethnicity, and the End of the Ottoman Empire, 1912–1923
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OXFORD STUDIES IN MODERN EUROPEAN HISTORY General Editors simon dixon, mark mazower, and james retallack ‘A View of the Marmara’s Sorrowful Shore,’ from Tasvir-i Efkar, 5 June 1921. Sorrowful Shores Violence, Ethnicity, and the End of the Ottoman Empire, 1912–1923 RYAN GINGERAS 1 1 Great Clarendon Street, Oxford ox2 6dp Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © Ryan Gingeras 2009 The moral rights of the authors have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 2009 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose the same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Gingeras, Ryan. Sorrowful shores : violence, ethnicity, and the end of the Ottoman Empire, 1912–1923 / Ryan Gingeras. p. cm. — (Oxford studies in modern european history) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978–0–19–956152–0 1. Turkey—History—Mehmed V, 1909–1918. 2. Turkey—History—Revolution, 1918–1923. 3. Ethnic conflict—Turkey—History—20th century. 4. Turkey—Ethnic relations—History—20th century. I. Title. DR584.G56 2009 956’.02—dc22 2008049481 Typeset by Laserwords Private Limited, Chennai, India Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by MPG Books Group ISBN 978–0–19–956152–0 13579108642 This book is dedicated to two people: my wife, Mariana Chavez Vazquez, and my grandfather, Charles Fitzpatrick This page intentionally left blank Preface If the truth be told, this work was born out of an act of cowardice. My ambitions leading up to my comprehensive exams tended towards some kind of radical, challenging project. There was little question in my mind that I wanted to write my dissertation on some corner of Anatolia during the First World War and/or the early Turkish Republic. Going for the jugular, I turned towards eastern Anatolia. A couple of ideas came to me: perhaps a study of how the small town of Naxc¸ıvan became a part of Azerbaijan; better yet, the reconstruction of Kars following the establishment of the Turkish Republic. Either, I thought, would serve wonderfully. I was told otherwise. Friends and colleagues with years of experience in Ottoman studies warned me that I was essentially contemplating professional suicide. First there was the question of sources. Where would I get them? Do such documents even exist? More importantly, would Turkish archivists even allow me to see the records (a question followed by anecdotal horror stories about scholars denied access to state archives in Turkey)? Then there were the political consequences to consider. A dissertation dealing with Kurds, Armenians, or other taboo subjects in Turkey was bound to bring troubles down around me. No matter what I did, I was told, someone would be very unhappy with my work. Someone, be it a member of the Turkish government, members of the Armenian diaspora, or other Ottoman scholars, would eat me alive for having challenged, upheld, or ignored some aspect of eastern Anatolia’s recent history. In short, the advice I had was: don’t do it. Drop it. Don’t kill your career before it begins. The dissertation that I wrote ultimately was founded upon this advice. My time in the archives instead led me to focus on western Anatolia and drew my attention to the roles of Albanian and North Caucasian immigrants during the Turkish War of Independence. The research for this project generally went swimmingly. None of the nightmare scenarios I was forewarned of came to fruition. No lifetime bans. No hate mail. Nothing. Still, I cannot say for sure that my friends and colleagues, people whom I believe genuinely had my best interests at heart, were wrong. Yes, archivists, scholars, and staff I met in Istanbul and Ankara were indeed helpful, courteous, and, at times, a real pleasure to be around. The sheer mention of my interest in Muslim immigrants in Anatolia was greeted with sincere enthusiasm and support by the archivists who helped make my research possible. More often than not, though, I rarely broached the topic of Armenians and Greeks with archival staff. Since it was not the central focus of my work, the parallel fate of non-Muslims in western Anatolia during the war years was a subject I kept under my hat. Earlier admonitions continued to play in my head. viii Preface This roundabout preface is meant as both an apology and an explanation for the continuities and discontinuities between my dissertation and this book. The question of what happened to Anatolian Greeks and Armenians (as well as other criminalized groups) between the years 1912 and 1923 lingers on like some proverbial 500-pound gorilla in the room. Recent events such as the murder of Hrant Dink confirm this. Yet I do not believe that the wartime persecution of Ottoman Christians should be approached in isolation. More to the point, it is quite clear to me that there is a more universal story to be told of the level and significance of human suffering in Anatolia during this period of time. As will become clearer through the coming pages, similar patterns of reasoning and behaviour on the part of the Ottoman government, as well as the occupational forces of Greece and others, led to the mass removal, extermination, and suppression of Christians and Muslims alike. The degree to which various communities were victimized by competing statist forces certainly differed tremendously (if I was forced to compare, clearly Armenians and Greeks collectively shared a more unenviable position by 1923 than Muslim immigrants). Whether one can compare levels of hardship, however, is not the point. Rather, this book takes up the question of precisely how and why large groups of people living around the southern coast of the Marmara Sea were subjected to a series of deliberate campaigns to do them harm. In order better to highlight the unanimity of suffering found among various communities living around the southern shores of the Sea of Marmara, I have put greater emphasis on Armenian and Greek affairs. Although by no means absolutely comprehensive, I believe these steps help better to bridge the historical gap between Christian natives and immigrant Muslims than my previous attempt. Although the text that follows is not in execution a comparative work, it must be said that the history of Anatolia during this period of time is not unique in a global sense. The mass disenfranchisement and liquidation of home populations is a phenomenon that can be found the world over. State terror of this sort is a modern phenomenon, and is part and parcel of the logic of modern state building. In situating this study within a finite region and approaching a fairly finite collection of peoples, I take up several critical, but admittedly dense, historical concepts: state modernization, organized violence, identity formation, immigration, and network politics. By placing both geographic and social restrictions upon my research, it was my hope to make a discussion of these various historical threads more wieldy, and the narrative more seamless. Looking back, I do not regret following the advice of my trusted peers. Ultimately I feel that it has led me back to addressing my original goals. I do hope, however, that others (with thicker skin than myself) take on the histories of Kars and Naxc¸ıvan, and other vital stories yet to be told. Acknowledgements During the course of my doctoral research and the follow-up research for this monograph, I found myself travelling, at times regularly, between Toronto, San Diego, New York, London, Istanbul, Ankara, Skopje, and Mexico City. Yet, before I extend my gratitude to those I met along the way, I must first thank my family and close friends. Above all, I want to thank my wife, Mariana Chavez Vazquez, who has given so much of herself and has had to endure too many long absences in exchange. Te quiero mucho, Marianita. Gracias por todo. Without my parents, Tom and Dedee Gingeras, I doubt that many of my dreams would have become realities. My incredible sister Alison and my loving grandparents Dot and Charlie Fitzpatrick each played vital roles in inspiring and supporting me. My family’s love and encouragement have made me who I am today. I want to thank Metin Bezikoglu,˘ Shane Cotter, Kevin Franks, Steve Maddox, Mike Mastroeni, William Silverman, and Mark Tkach for their genuine friendship, encouragement, and criticisms over the years. You have each been a wonderful friend to me. I have been a beneficiary of outstanding teachers and colleagues both at the University of California, San Diego, and at the University of Toronto.