Murat Belge*
In Turkey’s history, both distant and recent, the concept of “class” has had its unique trajectory. This is partly why many researchers and thinkers pondering over the structure of society have stated or concluded something close to “There is no class in Turkey.” Let me put it this way: since we found ourselves in what we call “modern” history, the concept of “class” had acquired a quality containing the potential for “danger.” In the early periods of the Republic, writers hesitated to utter the word; they would use softer terms like “stratum.” Those shaping the “dominant ideology” had dictated our relation with this concept: “We are a classless, privilege-less, united mass.” Period!
Those who thought this way, when looking at what was happening on the ground, saw a situation that justified their thinking. I do not mean “justified” in the real sense; because classes did exist, their non-existence was unthinkable. But when talking about “class effects,” these were very light, vague, almost nonexistent. How do I come to such a judgment? Of course, by comparing it with the history of the “West.” Revolutions, revolutionary attempts (for example, the Paris Commune), uprisings, and the like. Early examples of the organization called “union” were established there; even a political international organization like the International was formed. Events that scared the upper classes, like these, do not take place in Turkey’s history (it was necessary to ensure they did not).
We can roughly say the Ottoman society was divided into two: “state classes” and the “people,” or reaya. In society, the visible distinction was not in class but in the fields of religion and ethnicity.
Let’s look at the phenomenon of “urbanization.” In the Western city, once the wealthy settled in a certain area, it became impossible for the poor to step foot there (unless as the “servants” of the wealthy). They had their modest neighborhoods. Thus, the city grew and developed on a class basis. This is not the case in the Ottoman world. The distinction was not class, but ethnic/religious “affiliation.” However, this is not the phenomenon of “ghetto” in Western societies. In the neighborhoods of the Ottoman city, the rich, the middle-class, and the poor lived side by side. Such a structure inevitably nurtures a “solidaristic” morality, with the rich aiding the poor materially.
The Ottoman intellectual born and raised in such a world adopts this: in contrast to the Western, rebellious “proletarian,” the Muslim society embraces the poor who expects the rich to “father” them. Ziya Gökalp understands guilds when “economy” is mentioned. Kara Kemal is like this, as is Memduh Åževket who grew up by his side. This ideological stance stretches to Nihat Erim. It is still standing; the worker in the “Industry” chases away the “leftist” youth who comes to make socialist propaganda with a stick and clings to his employer. From a Western perspective, you would conclude that the whole relationship is inverted. “There’s no such thing as class, my brother,” you might say. But this is not true; class exists, but its effects and reactions are different from what is written in “socialist books.”
Entirely different? No. In the long run, the most reliable social determinant is “material life practices.” Within a capitalist order, whether workers or employers, people living amid all these modern structures are changing. They change unwillingly but do what they can to facilitate this change, including the AKP.
Looking at the rhetoric of the AKP, we see that the main motif is religious affiliation — and, we see that the nationalist rhetoric is gaining strength. Of course, “solidarity” plays a significant role in this discourse. Tayyip ErdoÄŸan will use the appeal of the slogan “We are all Muslims” to its fullest. We are all brothers indeed, but as in George Orwell’s book, some of us are “more” brothers.
Thus, the action of Tayyip ErdoÄŸan’s government develops quite differently from its rhetoric. We will see how much the AKP and Tayyip ErdoÄŸan’s continuous governance to this day have influenced and changed Turkey’s society’s view on these issues in the upcoming election. I have no prediction about the election results. I watch and listen without believing much. I cannot tell which side will emerge victorious from this race, but either way, I can guess I will not be surprised. Society is going through a process, and the process will continue after this election. The election will tell us where we are at the moment.
*Murat Belge (born 16 March 1943) is a Turkish academic, translator, literary critic, columnist, civil rights activist, and occasional tour guide.
This article was originally published in Birikim Magazine and translated into English by Politurco.
