Thoughts on Hagia Sophia
[From August 2020]
In the early 1990s, I taught English to Turkish teenagers at a high school on the Asian side of Istanbul. There were 40 or so boisterous kids in each of my classes — a Marmara Sea of Mehmets and Banus, welcoming, open and exhausting. It was a private school and the parents of my students were professionals — lawyers, doctors, small business owners. I applied for the job thinking I would never get it. I accepted the job because I could not find (interesting) full-time work in Canada after finishing university. Also, I wanted to travel. My parents were mortified.
These were pre-Recep Tayyip Erdogan days, when Turkey had relatively good relations with the West. While it was a moderate, secular Muslim country, there were some adjustments I needed to make: wearing more modest clothing and learning to sleep through the booming early morning call to prayer, for example. And when I left relatively sophisticated, international Istanbul for trips to more rural areas of Turkey, I discovered that donning a headscarf would make my life easier and safer.
Even then, there was tension between those who wanted to keep Mustafa Kemal Ataturk’s vision of a secular, forward-looking Turkey alive, and those who bristled at the legal limitations on public displays of religion. At the school where I worked, my Turkish colleagues — like the student population, almost all Muslim — were not allowed to wear head coverings, and some considered that an unnecessary restriction.
As these were pre-internet days my students did not forever have their eyes glued to screens and as a result, they spent a lot of time talking to their foreign teachers (I was one of a few), frequently taking us out for tea and baklava. They were Muslim and considered themselves European. They hated to think that anyone in the West saw their country in any other light.
I remember asking one boy if he ever worried about the growth of fundamentalism in Turkey and I will never forget his reply. “Oh no, Teacher,” he said cheerfully. “If that happens, the army will have a coup and put things back to normal.” It was odd to hear a coup referred to in such a light-hearted way. And while his description of the role of Turkey’s military was somewhat lacking in nuance, he was not wrong in viewing it as a bulwark against increasing religious influence. It had played that role in the past.
Which is why I was not surprised, though I was dismayed, at the recent news that Hagia Sophia would become a mosque (again), and why I did not view the announcement as a turning point for anti-secularist forces. I believe the turning point occurred when Erdogan purged Turkey’s military after the failed 2016 coup.
I see the Hagia Sophia conversion as somewhat of a victory lap for him. He made sure he attended the first prayers there. Ataturk wanted the church to be a symbol of cooperation and common heritage. Undoing that is a further washing away of Turkish secularism and a snub to the country’s Christian minority, to Turkey’s European allies, to art historians and conservationists.
It amazes me that there was a time in my life when it only took me a bus trip and a ferry ride across the Bosphorus and a walk to get to the magnificent 6th century cathedral-museum and UNESCO World Heritage Site. I am glad I visited Hagia Sophia on a few occasions during my year in Istanbul. Should I be fortunate enough to return, I know the experience will be different.
What will not change will be the tension in Turkey. Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk, speaking to the BBC about the Hagia Sophia decision, said, “There are millions of secular Turks like me who are crying against this, but their voices are not heard.” Some of those are former students of mine who have stayed in touch and have sent messages echoing Pamuk’s sentiments.
Unfortunately, one student with whom I am no longer in contact is the young man whose faith in military coups has come to naught. I would love to know what he thinks.