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The Turkic Speaking Peoples: Edited by Ergun Cagatay and Dogan Kuban Published by Prestel Price 2nd EDITION NOW IN STOCK
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What is a Turk? Mustafa Kemal, father of modern Turkey, was invited to a reception at the German embassy, where he congratulated the excavator of the Hittite capital of Bogazkoy on recovering the remains of his peoples ancestors. The German archaeologist was just about to protest when a kick from his ambassador changed his reply to a simple: Yes, Your Excellency. Atatürk was not being naive, writes Richard Frye, author of the anecdote and one of the thirty-four Turkish, Russian and Anglophone scholars who have contributed to this magnificent book. The Hittites were just as surely ancestors of modern Turks as were the Turkic nomads who began moving into Anatolia after the first millennium. (see The Battle of Manzikert) What is a Turk? The title of this tome (it weighs nearly three kilos) has been carefully chosen. For its central hypothesis is that the question cannot be answered, except with propagandist falsehoods, and is therefore largely useless. As a contributor notes, the name Türk itself appeared only in the sixth century AD, and then in Chinese documents. Turkish nationalism - the idea that there is a pure ethnic type or a pure Turkish language - is an even more recent invention: the ideology developed in the nineteenth century and the claim to a territorial empire (pan-Turkism) only in the twentieth. Ergun Çagatay, the Time/Life photographer whose marvellous pictures engendered this project, became convinced after ten years spent travelling in Central Asia that the adjective Turkic was not only synthetic, but actually divisive. Nationalist zeal already had a sour taste for him: he had spent months in hospital with severe burns after being caught in an Armenian terrorist attack at Orly airport in July, 1983. Yet there are 135 million people who speak a Turkic language. What is so striking - almost as if to confound the multi-ethnic thesis is the unity of those languages, and the similarity of the peoples character and customs in spite of the enormous distances which separate them, from Yakutia in eastern Siberia to the Balkans (Cornucopia Issue 30 The Turks of Thrace) and Iraq (Cornucopia Issue 29 Kirkuk), to Frankfurt and Londons Finsbury Park. The scholar Talat Tekin identifies a dozen Turkic linguistic groups, most of them mutually intelligible to a high degree. Only four - Chuvash, Yakut, Tuva and Khakas - are mutually incomprehensible, even to each other. Co-editor Dogan Kuban observes that the Turkish word bir (one), is the same from Turfan to Istanbul, while Western Europe has many variants: one, ein and un. There are common character traits, too, says Cagatay, possibly derived from a common nomadic past: Turkic speakers tend to be reserved, suspicious, quick to anger, but resilient. Even their body language is similar. They also share, even in Muslim communities, a respect for the equality of women. Mention of Islam reminds us that most Turkic speakers are Sunni Muslims. Yet there are shamanists too, Buddhists, Christians and even in the Karaim of Lithuania Jews. Religion can cut both ways. Where Islam enjoys political power it can become regressive and intolerant; but where it does not it helps preserve the peoples cultural identity (rather as Catholicism did in Soviet-controlled Poland). |
If it is proper to see the Turks as an unavoidably hyphenated people, like Afro-Americans or Anglo-Indians, it is simpler to understand them in two broad categories nomad or sedentary, (see Neal Ascherson's 'Black Sea) mountain people or valley dwellers - rather than struggle with the myriad names they have used over time. Naming and classifying can have paradoxical consequences. The Soviets artificial division of central Asians into five nationalities created animosity between them after the fall of the USSR. The same has happened in western China. This book is not all hard work. There are some delightful excursions. Chapters on cuisine, for instance, prove that the view from the kitchen is historically very helpful. (We learn also that the infant Genghiz Khan was reared on wild fruit, wild onions and lily-root porridge, and there are recipes (see A Soup for the Qan) , including one for Noahs Pudding). Other subjects covered include epic poetry, the Kazkh yurt, arts, crafts and architecture. There is not, however, much on music. (see Cornucopia Music) The contributors have achieved what the blockbuster exhibition, Turks, at the Royal Academy in London three years ago (Cornucopia Issue 33) - magnificent though it was - could not do. They have traced and explained the cultural loans and debts of the nomadic phenomenon. The scholarly differences between authors are instructive (who were the Magyars? Were the Huns Turks?). And if their contributions sometimes overlap, that is no bad thing in a topic so complex. As for the pictures, they are a feast for the eye, pages on which the reader can rest from poring over the (rather too small) print of the text. We see not only ethnic pictures of Askhabads desert market or the old game of boskashi (a mounted struggle for the carcass of a goat) (Cornucopia Issue 36 Sykes in Turkestan), but stunning shots of people, objects and buildings, some of them since destroyed. The world depicted here is vanishing, of course. The destruction that totalitarianism began, globalisation unfortunately seems set to continue. But then destruction has always been part of the nomad story. This book should not only excite anyone interested in the history of Eurasia; it should help mobilise support for the preservation of a vibrant non-European culture.' Christian Tyler is the author of Wild West China and the feature The Turks of China in Cornucopia Issue 31 | ||||||||
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