Today, I would like to turn to another striking episode from Türkiye’s recent history. It took place during the Atatürk era. The cultural destruction it caused was remarkable, and its impact would endure for half a century. Without keeping you in suspense any longer, let us turn to the story.
In 1926, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the victorious commander of the War of Independence and president of the newly founded republic, visited Istanbul. During his stay, he attended a dinner held in his honor at Sarayburnu Park, where a concert was also performed. The headline performer was Müniretü’l Mehdiyye of Egypt, one of the most celebrated singers of the period.
She was followed by a group of young musicians from Istanbul’s Eyüp district, trained by Rebabi Mustafa Bey. Atatürk listened attentively, but his reaction made it clear that he was displeased with what he had heard and seen. Şadi Yaver Ataman, who witnessed the incident, later quoted him as saying:
“The music performed here is far from something we can be proud of.”
Atatürk then rose from the table and said:
“Let us go! This music is far from expressing our spirit and excitement.”
THEY TOOK THEIR CUE FROM ATATÜRK
Türkiye in 1926 was a country in the midst of sweeping revolutionary change. The sultanate had been abolished, the republic proclaimed, and the caliphate subsequently abolished. Soon afterward, Sufi lodges and dervish convents were closed; some mosques were effectively taken out of service by leaving them without appointed imams; the Law on the Unification of Education was enacted; dress reforms were introduced, including the Hat Law; and Ankara was declared the capital.
In short, an entirely new state had been established, and an ambitious project to construct a new society was underway.
It was precisely in this atmosphere that Atatürk’s dissatisfaction with the music performed at Sarayburnu had consequences. Officials of the new republic took their cue from his remarks.
The Fine Arts Committee of the Ministry of Education adopted a decision. On October 25, 1926, Istanbul Governor Muhittin Üstündağ announced that instruction in alaturka music — the term commonly used at the time for traditional Ottoman/Turkish music — would be abolished. Newspapers of the period enthusiastically announced the decision with headlines proclaiming, “Alaturka Music Abolished.”
Two conservatories, one in Ankara and another in Istanbul, were to provide instruction in Western music. Darülelhan, the Istanbul municipal conservatory where Turkish music was taught, was transformed into a performance ensemble.
Remarkably, this prohibition on formal Turkish-music education lasted for half a century. It was not until 1976, during the First Nationalist Front government of Prime Minister Süleyman Demirel and under Education Minister Ali Naili Erdem, that the policy was finally reversed.
One evening, Erdem attended a concert by Erol Sayan, one of the leading composers and vocalists of the period. Afterward, he reportedly told Sayan, “The time has come to lift this ban.” The necessary legislation was prepared, and the Istanbul State Conservatory of Turkish Music was established.
In reality, however, the lifting of this half-century restriction was also the culmination of a long struggle carried out through radio, the most influential mass medium of the era. Among its protagonists were musicians working at the Istanbul and Ankara radio stations, particularly Ulvi Ergüner, Erol Sayan, and Ahmet Hatipoğlu.
The internationally renowned musician Nezih Uzel witnessed Ulvi Ergüner’s efforts at close range. In his book A Day at the Radio (Radyo’da Bir Gün), Uzel describes at length Ergüner’s efforts during the years they worked together at Istanbul Radio, which would later become TRT Istanbul Studios.
This was by no means the only restriction Turkish music faced during the Atatürk era.
Following Atatürk’s speech at the opening of the Turkish Grand National Assembly, on November 2, 1934, Turkish music was banned from radio broadcasts under the direction of Press and Information Director Vedat Nedim Tör and by verbal order of Interior Minister Şükrü Kaya.
This ban, however, did not last nearly as long. According to one account, it was lifted eight months later; according to another, two years later. The reason was simple: radio ownership was only beginning to spread throughout the country, and Turkish listeners had increasingly begun tuning in to Cairo Radio in Egypt. This was apparently regarded as a potential national concern, and the restriction was eventually lifted, reportedly on Atatürk’s orders.
THE SCOTS SAVED THE MEHTER
More remarkable still is the story of the Mehter, the traditional Ottoman military band. The celebrated Turkish poet Attila İlhan once famously remarked:
“When the Mehter begins to play, nine out of ten communists become nationalists.”
The Mehter encountered its first prohibition on June 17, 1826. That was the day the Ottoman Empire destroyed the Janissary corps, the military institution that had carried the empire through much of its rise to power.
The Janissary barracks in Istanbul’s Aksaray district were bombarded with artillery and destroyed. Thousands of Janissaries lost their lives. Those who fled to the Belgrad Forest were surrounded, and the forest was set ablaze. Those attempting to escape the fire were also killed.
The Mehter was swept away in this destruction as well, because the Ottoman court’s military band was closely tied to the Janissary corps. The lyrics of its compositions, the melodies and marches transmitted orally through the traditional master-apprentice meşk system, and much of its musical heritage suffered the same fate. Along with centuries of Janissary documents, records belonging to the Mehter were also destroyed.
In its place, the Muzıka-yı Hümayun, the Imperial Musical Ensemble, was established, performing music in the Western style.
Nearly ninety years later, in 1914, during the years when the Committee of Union and Progress was in power, the Mehter was revived on the orders of Enver Pasha. With the limited information still available and through the extraordinary efforts of one or two musicians who retained knowledge of the tradition, the Mehter was brought back to life.
The ensemble that had once accompanied the imperial army into battle now increasingly performed music infused with Turkish nationalist themes, celebrating Turkish heroism.
The revolutionary winds that swept away centuries-old institutions somehow initially overlooked the Mehter. But that would not last. In 1935, it too was banned because it was seen as a symbol of the old regime.
Fortunately, this time Türkiye would not have to wait another fifty or hundred years for its return.
In 1950, the single-party era came to an end and the Democrat Party came to power. Not long afterward, President Celal Bayar traveled to Britain to attend the funeral of King George VI. There, he watched Scottish musicians perform their traditional music in historic dress and with traditional instruments.
Bayar was deeply impressed. Upon returning to Türkiye, he instructed Chief of the General Staff Gen. Nuri Yamut to revive the Mehter.
Thus the Mehter, banned in 1935, came back to life under the auspices of the Military Museum in Harbiye, Istanbul.
Yet Türkiye’s turbulent multi-party politics would eventually affect the Mehter as well. During the 1970s, both the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP), branded by its opponents as “ultranationalist,” and the National Salvation Party (MSP), denounced by secularists as “reactionary,” began using locally established Mehter bands in their political activities and rallies.
Following the military coup of September 12, 1980, Mehter bands established by municipalities across the country were banned. This restriction would remain in place until the early 1990s.
Türkiye’s musical history is, in many respects, a condensed version of its political history: full of upheavals, reversals, prohibitions, revivals, and storms that never quite seem to end.
Today, I wanted to turn just a few pages from that remarkable musical history. In a future article, I hope to share some of its other fascinating chapters with you.
Until then, stay well.
