Keywords

Introduction

In this chapter, I explore the ways in which the islanders represented/articulated their pluralism by the words and metaphors/allegories they used when they talked about the diversity of the island. Grillo (2007, 981 emphasis added) highlights the importance of “understanding what actually happens ‘on the ground’, a crucial aspect of which is the subjective dimension, the ideas, models, projects, definitions, discourses etc. that actors bring to bear on a situation, sometimes very hesitantly, often seeking to work with (or clarify) concepts that are difficult, opaque, elusive and with multiple contested meanings.” Thus, an in-depth, ethnographic exploration of everyday practices of living together in diversity and exploring how the islanders themselves reflect, represent and conceptualise their conviviality was my response to Grillo’s call (2007) for anthropologists to go beyond the normative analysis of multiculturalism and to move away from the philosophical reflections at an abstract or institutional level.

Building on media anthropology, media ethnography and cultural studies (see Pertierra 2018; Barker 2012; Lewis 2008; Tufte 2000; Schrøder et al. 2003), in this chapter, I analyse the representation of diversity and conviviality in Burgaz islanders’ media productions, conducting expert interviews (Bruun 2016) with the authors of novels and producers of documentaries, and exploring the islanders’ reception of these productions. In order to shed light on the islanders’ perception of conviviality and diversity, I structured the chapter according to the emic terms, such as metaphors and allegories they use—ebru, mosaic, live open-air ethnographic museum—and concepts—multiculturality, cosmopolitanness, monoculturality—and put these emic perceptions in dialogue with etic concepts of multiculturalism and cosmopolitanism. The diversity of emic terms and concepts give a complex picture of conviviality and hence challenge the literature of multiculturalism and cosmopolitanism and the ways in which the islanders reproduce and challenge the dominant discourse of pluralism that comes from the Ottoman millet system.

Burgaz Is a Live/Open-Air Ethnographic Museum

The Modern Turkish state inherited the legal recognition and categorisation of “minorities” from the millet system of the Ottoman Empire (see also Chap. 2). Under the Ottoman Empire, Ottoman subjects were divided into millets: Muslims, Orthodox, Armenians and Jews (Sugar 1977, 273). The millet system was a legal-religious functional structure in the empire (Sugar 1977, 272) where the population was not divided according to the subjects’ ethnicity or nationality. The millet system aimed to maintain the central power of the sultan, to administer the different religious groups and hence it helped to keep the non-Muslims (zimmi) connected to the empire (Sugar 1977, 274). Even though Islam was seen as superior, every millet was autonomous in the way they practised their religion and managed their legal issues. Thus, there was not a concept of majority versus minority (Sugar 1977, 274). After the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire and the “minoritisation” process (Cowan et al. 2001; Cowan 2001; Alioglu Cakmak and Huseyinoglu 2020), the concept of “majority” and “minority” came into the Turkish and Greek legal systems. The Rum, Armenian and the Jewish millets turned into the recognised non-Muslim minorities of the Turkish Republic, while all the Muslims were categorised to be the majority. Nonetheless, ethnically Turkish Sunni Muslims have been dominating other Muslims of different ethnicity and mother tongue (e.g. Kurdish, Albanian, Laz and Zaza) and of different denominations of Islam (e.g. Alevi, Sunni). The dominant discourse of pluralism in modern Turkey have embraced the recognised non-Muslims as contributing to the multiculturality of Turkey, but not the non-recognised minority groups among the Muslims such as the Kurds, Laz, Alevis, Sunni Șafis and many more.

This dominant discourse is articulated as “Neo-Ottoman Nostalgia,” which refers to, according to some scholars like Papadopoulos, Keyder and Fisher-onar, as the “Belle Epoque period” or “the golden era” of the Ottoman Empire, notably in the second half to the late 19th, glorifying the coexistence of different faiths, notable the millets and the European cosmopolitans, whose presence was seen in Istanbul and port cities of the Ottoman Empire (Keyder 2018; Fisher-Onar 2018; Zubaida 2018; Örs 2018a; Doumanis 2012; Papadopoulos 2019). This nostalgia is at the same time sadness and mourning for the non-Muslims, who had to leave, were forced or expulsed to leave as an outcome of the homogenisation during the construction of the Modern Turkish nation. Neo-Ottomanism was introduced by Özal in 1980s as a mentality and strategy of embracing Ottoman heritage that embedded in itself the cultural pluralism of different ethnic and religious groups (Çolak 2006, 587). Advocates placed Islamism and legal pluralism of different millets in the framework of Neo-Ottomanism (Çolak 2006, 588). Whereas the Kemalist modernisation project had rejected anything Ottoman and was based on a secular and unified Turkish identity, neo-Ottomanism reacted to the Kemalist hegemony and brought into the scene counter-memories such as those of Kurds and Islamists (Çolak 2006, 589). As a solution to the Turkish identity crisis, Özal appealed to the cultural pluralism within Islam, as practised in Ottoman times, where Islam included Albanians, Bosniaks, Turks, Kurds and Alevis from different ethno-religious backgrounds (Çolak 2006, 593). Later on, the Welfare Party appealed to Ottomanism and the religious plurality of the Ottoman millet system in order to reject Kemalist secularism’s repression of religious practice (Navaro-Yashin 2002, 140–141). This attitude was adopted by the AKP, and neo-Ottomanism became more of an Islamist revivalism (see Aktürk 2018). Couroucli (2010) argues that this kind of Ottoman multiculturalism praised by the (Muslim) bourgeois class and the politicians in Turkey is like Herzfeld’s structural nostalgia: it refers back to the plurality of the Ottoman Empire to state that Turkey is still multicultural now in order to “promote minority and human rights” for Turkey’s entrance to the EU.

Robert Schild, a Burgaz islander since 1988, was fascinated by the diversity of the island and told Nezim Hazar, a documentary maker, who lived in Burgaz since the 2000s, that a documentary about the diversity in Burgaz and representing the multicultural aspect of Turkey might benefit the country’s bid to enter the EU. They shut the documentary in 2004–2005, with the help of Burgaz islanders, especially the famous actress, Tilbe Saran and actor Cüneyt Türel. The documentary was supported by several Turkish and foreign, public and private institutions,Footnote 1 to which the islanders had connections with. The documentary was collectively shut, Burgaz islanders and the ones who worked for the shooting and editing, did it voluntarily. Schild was more interested in the numbers, and counted more than twenty different ethnicities and religions living on Burgaz and also wrote a book later on (Schild 2021). In the documentary, while Robert Schild wanted to emphasise the diversity in Burgaz, Nedim Hazar wanted to focus on the friendship between Emilios, a Rum Burgazlı, who left Burgaz and came back to visit the island, years later, and Cüneyt Türel, a secular Sunni Muslim. Hazar told me, “I wanted to give the message that friendship was above everything.”

In this documentary, at least one person from each ethnic, linguistic and religious group is shown (Ashkenazi Jew, Sephardic Jew, Karayim Jew, Rum Orthodox, Armenian Orthodox, Kurd, Alevi, Levantine, German, Macedonian, Austrian, Sunni Muslim etc.) and they talk about who they are, where they come from and which language they speak. Different religious rituals at different religious places are filmed (in the synagogue, Orthodox Church, Catholic, Chapel, mosque and Alevi gathering house). The documentary challenges the dominant discourse of pluralism based on the millet system. It did not have an emphasis on only the recognised minorities: Rums, Jews and Armenians, who were the non-Muslim millets of the Ottoman Empire. The documentary demonstrates the events, which made the Rums leave, like the 1955 pogrom and the expulsion of Rums with Greek citizenship, but it was not trapped in the romanticism of the millet system. It gave the message that the island belongs to all the people from different ethnic and religious groups. Within their discourse of pluralism, they gave place for the diversities within the non-Muslim millet (like Suryanis, Keldanis, Levantines) and the Muslim millet including the non-recognised Alevis and Kurds. As Couroucli (2010) argues in her work, Schild and Hazar are among those ones who would like to promote Turkey’s entry to the EU and they had a political aim in representing the diversity of Burgaz: to give the message that Turkey is multicultural. However, they challenge Couroucli (2010)’s statement that only the non-Muslims—Rums, Armenians and Jews—could make a Muslim country multicultural. Schild and Hazar show the diversities within millets and the non-recognised Alevis and Kurds as also contributing to the diversity in Turkey. For instance, Alevi cemevi is shown as a place of worship equal to a mosque, a synagogue and a church.

When I talked with Hazar in 2010 about the reactions that the documentary received, Hazar showed me his file, where he kept the critiques and appraisal, he said that the documentary was shown widely on the TV and festivals (also available on Youtube) and was mostly well received. Nonetheless, it was also critiqued to be “utopic” in a conference about minorities held at Bilgi University. He responded to the critique by arguing that the documentary also showed that 6–7 September pogrom and the expulsion of the Rums, narrated by the islanders. He then explained to me that the documentary focuses on the friendship, despite these painful memories. The audience as well as the islanders get swept away by the strong emotions of friendship above everything and by “island romanticism” and tend to forget the painful memories, while they live on the island. As we will see in Chap. 7, the islanders articulated both memories of intolerance (in Istanbul and Turkey) and of conviviality (in Burgaz). In Uzunoglu’s documentary (2013), one can clearly see the sufferance and the pain that is ingrained in the islanders’ memories, as well as the joy that is experienced during the islanders’ reunion and the stories of friendships that go above everything. Those, who left the island uses structural amnesia, by suppressing the memories of intolerance and holding on the memories of conviviality in Burgaz.

For these reasons, Schild uses the term “open-air ethnographic museum” and in my interview with him in 2010, he explained like this:

Let me first tell you about my theory of diversity in Burgaz. I have found the multicultural aspect of Turkey in Burgaz. Before I wanted to make a documentary/film about Burgaz, I wrote a few articles in the Radikal newspaper and Istanbul Dergisi [1999] about Burgaz being “an open-air ethnographic museum”. What I argued with this allegory is that Turkey had been multicultural for centuries but it had long been losing its diversity. When one came to Burgaz, one could still see a sample of each group within this diversity.

Schild points out that Turkey is still diverse. Yet, as the number of the Rums, Jews and Armenians as well as Keldanis, Germans, Macedonians and Levantines lessened to a great extent, he describes these people as “museumised.” During the interview, when Schild explained how the number of these people decreased, he talked in great depth about the Wealth Tax in 1942, the 6–7 September events, the expulsion of the Rums with Greek citizenship, and the non-Muslims, who left to other countries. As, this demonstrates, he does not in any way ignore the homogenisation process. To the contrary, he shows the ways in which these policies and political events had an important impact which triggered migrations from Turkey.

The islanders reproduce the dominant discourse of pluralism to criticise the homogenisation that took away their friends, not with the aim of ignoring the new settlers of Alevi and Kurdish descent. For instance, Aktel says, “We used to be multicultural and we lost our diversity, when the Rums left” to stress that the homogenisation lessened the diversity of the island. Nonetheless, he still says that the island is still multicultural, and in his Kestane Karası, he narrates Sami’s story, an Alevi man from Erzincan, who becomes a Burgaz islander through working for the island and falling in love with an islander woman, who happened to be Rum. Live ethnographic museum, “we used to be multicultural,” Schild’s “Osmanlı tortusu,” residue from the Ottoman Empire are different versions of the reproduction of the dominant discourse of pluralism based on the millet system, which criticise the Turkish state that used homogenisation policies to send away the recognised non-Muslim millets. These reproductions of the dominant discourse based on the millet can be seen similar to how Couroucli’ refers to the Princes’ Islands as the “empire dust” (2010, 220–221) by arguing that in contemporary Turkey, the pluralism is the remnant of the coexistence that existed under the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires. Nonetheless, the islanders do not reduce diversity to the millet system and in their media productions, the non-recognised groups, notably the Alevis and Kurds are an important part of the island conviviality.

Couroucli explored the Saint George pilgrimage in Ay Yorgi, Büyükada, the biggest of the Princes’ Islands. The Rum Orthodox Church, Ay Yorgi, is visited by thousands of people, mostly Muslim, during that day, where the visitors draw their wishes, light candles and roll a threat from the bottom of Ay Yorgi Hill, up to the church (see Figs. 3.1, 3.2 and 3.3, when I participated in the pilgrimage in 23 April 2010). Couroucli explored ethnographically this pilgrimage but has not explored the daily life of the Büyükada islanders, or other Princes’ islanders, through long-term ethnography. Nonetheless, she concludes that today it would be wrong to treat the lifestyle on the Princes’ Islands as “cosmopolitan” (Couroucli 2010, 220–221). She distinguishes between “cosmopolitanism, a spirit related to the lifestyle of the minority elites of the Ottoman society, and the reality of religious plurality and tolerance in Ottoman society, which allowed shared practices at certain moments” (Couroucli 2010, 234). She indicates that these syncretic practices such as Ay Yorgi dayFootnote 2 do not now exist in the everyday life on the Princes’ Islands. She notes that most of the non-Muslims had already left Turkey and the Princes’ Islands. She sees these islands as places of residence for the elite, educated upper-middle-class people, most of whom are non-Muslims. She states that Istanbulites’ nostalgia for the coexistence of Ottoman times does not reflect today’s reality. Couroucli’s conceptualisation echoes the dominant discourse of pluralism: Ottoman times were multicultural, because there were people from different millets: Orthodox, Jews, Armenians and Muslims. According to her view, when most of the non-Muslims left Turkey, then, Turkey was no longer multicultural. This is why she calls the Princes Islands “empire dust” (Couroucli 2010). The dominant discourse is problematic and reductive; because it limits diversities to the millet system and does not take into account the non-recognised groups such as Alevis and Kurds. Couroucli only focuses on who left the Princes’ Islands, but not who subsequently settled on the islands. Schild and the documentary, to the contrary, challenge the dominant discourse by including Alevis and Kurds and the diversities within the millets to point out that the island is still diverse.

Fig. 3.1
A photograph of a woman who rolls a thread around a stone on a small hillside while holding a polybag, and another woman helps her. One of the women stands beside them, while the other woman holds a thread and a polybag. Several people are in the background.

Saint George day Ay Yorgi, Büyükada (photo taken by the author)

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Fig. 3.2
A close-up photo of threads tied horizontally on a grassy patch or stretch.

Saint George day Ay Yorgi, Büyükada (photo taken by the author)

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Fig. 3.3
A photo of people who sit and stand beneath a tree with small pieces of clothing and ribbons tying to the branches of the tree.

Saint George day Ay Yorgi, Büyükada (photo taken by the author)

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Burgaz Is Not Cosmopolitan

Burgaz islanders do not think that Burgaz is cosmopolitan, however their argumentation is very different than Couroucli’s. Here is what Aktel and Schil said about cosmopolitanism when I asked them which terms do not fit to Burgaz, in the two interviews I conducted with them in 2010:

Aktel::

Burgaz is not cosmopolitan because in cosmopolitan societies communities do not leave their impact or transmit their cultures to other groups and to further generations. For example, new migrants, French, Germans and Austrians do not root themselves and integrate their cultures to the society. Cosmopolitan people and communities are distant, more superficial, and temporary, not bonded and are in less contact with each other. Both Burgaz and Büyükada are both very diverse but people in Burgaz are kaynașmıș [blended, commingled, mixed].

Schild::

It [cosmopolitanism] just means diverse people living in a place, does not give the message of wholeness, togetherness and solidarity as the term mosaic. Cosmopolitanism is about London, Paris, many people living together. However, in these cities there is only one medeniyet [civilisation], in Istanbul or Turkey there are many medeniyet. This is why I used the allegory of “open-air ethnographic museum”.

Both Schild’s and Aktel’s use of the term “cosmopolitanism” is similar to Sennett (2002)’s, who states that in a cosmopolitan city, cosmopolitans do not interact with each other. Racial, class, ethnic and religious differences bring indifference between individuals. Schild’s cosmopolitanism is almost “eaten” by globalisation, which turns cities of London and Paris into “one civilisation” and where people are individualistic and less engaged with each other. However, in Burgaz, one can find many different lifestyles (see Chap. 4). Aktel and Schild do not think that “cosmopolitanism” suits to Burgaz, because in the case of Burgaz, people are not distant to each other, neither they are indifferent to people’s ethnicity and/or religion. People, like Schild and Aktel, recognise, respect and appreciate ethnic and religious differences, but they also highlight strongly the bonding of the island community, the blurring/porousness of the ethno-religious community boundaries and the internalisation of diversity. They reject cosmopolitanism, because it implies an individual engagement with an Other, as postulated by Hannerz (1990) and Radice (2016); cosmopolitans are footless, rootless and deracinated people (Keyder 2018; Zubaida 2018), who engage with others, but they do not embody people’s diversities and leave their cultural traces in the locality. In that sense, their understanding of cosmopolitanism is similar to that of Radice (2016), where cosmopolitanism refers to an individual’s engagement with others, while conviviality refers to collectivity, solidarity and a sense of togetherness as well as rooting, blending and sense of belonging in a place.

In that respect, refined conceptualisations of cosmopolitanism, such as Örs (2018a)’ emic cosmopolitanism, rooted cosmopolitanism (Appiah 2005; Werbner 2008) can come closer to the understanding of conviviality on the island. In contrast to older versions of cosmopolitanism (see Zubaida 2002; Beck 2000, 2002; Calhoun 2002; Hannerz 1990), which see mobility and border-crossing as making a person cosmopolitan and the city diverse, it is not the mobility but the daily engagement with local diversity that makes a person cosmopolitan (see Örs 2018b; Jones and Jackson 2014; Glick Schiller et al. 2011; Appiah 2005; Werbner 2008). Rooted cosmopolitanisms do not describe cosmopolitans as “footless, rootless” people (Hannerz 2004) but as people, who have a sense of belonging in the diverse land, where they grow up, and have “cosmopolitan belonging” (Jones and Jackson 2014). While in cosmopolitanism literature, the self engages with an Other (see Hannerz 1990, 2004), in conviviality, this distinction is blurred: the islanders recognise difference, but they also internalise difference, and they produce together the island culture. Conviviality, hence highlights that people are on the same boat and, it is not simply engaging with an Other, but internalising and living with differences, making things work out, managing tensions and conflicts, as well as emotionally connecting and rooting on the island. Thus, the islanders’ ebru allegory and the emotional aspect of mosaic, which I will explore in the next subsection, gives the message of wholeness, togetherness and conviviality.

Another important aspect of conviviality in Burgaz is the cross-class relations. As I will show in the next chapters, the islanders, who belong to different social classes, have close relations. Client-customers relations blur into friendship relations, which are also reflected in Kestane Karası novel (Aktel 2005), Berberyan’s memoir (2010) and Hazar’s documentary (2005). Pluralism in Burgaz not only is about the elite, non-Muslim minorities, but includes everyone, who contributes to the island conviviality, notably the lower-middle-class permanent islanders of Kurdish, Alevi and Sunni Muslim descent. When I had talked to Schild in the beginning of my fieldwork, he had told me “you should also interview the current permanent islanders, who are mainly Alevis and Kurds, who work in the shops and restaurants, who drive horse-carts.” Schild concurs with Werbner (1999), who challenges the perception of cosmopolitanism as being exclusive to upper-class elites and intellectuals. Werbner (1999) criticises Hannerz’s distinction between transnationals and cosmopolitans; because according to Hannerz, transnationals are working-class labourers while cosmopolitans are educated, upper-middle-class, business men and women who “engage with Other in order to make business” (Werbner 1999, 17–19). Werbner shows that middle-class transnationals could also be cosmopolitans through “engaging with the ‘Other’” (Werbner 1999, 20).

Schild challenges Freitag’s (2014) convivial cosmopolitanism and the older debates where cosmopolitanism is mainly about elites and intellectuals, who migrated to big cities such as Cairo and Istanbul during the Ottoman Empire (Zubaida 2002). Scholars frequently refer to the upper-class sociality of the Ottoman context as cosmopolitanism, a word with connotations of urban cultural pluralism (see Zubaida 2002; Driessen 2005; Gekas 2009). In contradiction to this, Ulrike Freitag argues that the political normative understanding of cultural pluralism implied in cosmopolitanism does not apply to the daily interactions among non-elite Ottoman subjects, which she describes as a form of conviviality. She shows that craftsmen and traders, who belonged to different corporate organisations or guilds (Arabic tai’fa, Ottoman sınıf) engaged with each other in structured quotidian rituals in order to sort out tax collection (Freitag 2014). Locals and strangers socialised in coffee houses, taverns and bathhouses, while families went on excursions together or visited each other’s homes (Freitag 2014). Freitag’s (2014) analysis is useful for thinking about how belonging to the same or similar classes intersects ethnic and religious differences. However, her analytical framework neither explains the negotiations between different classes and socio-economic groups nor explains the ways in which people from different classes negotiate ethno-religious differences. In Chap. 6, we will see from Zümrüt and Niko that the blurred boundaries of client/customer relationships across class cooperation and friendships form a part of Burgaz conviviality.

Burgaz Is Çokkültürlü (Multicultural), But Is It a Mosaic or Ebru?

Burgaz islanders’ use “multicultural” as an adjective to refer to the diversity on the island and as a characteristic of Burgaz islanders to be “multicultural” (çokkültürlü). The word Çokkültürlülük refers to multiculturality as a state of pluralism rather than as a political project of liberal multiculturalism. It stresses the embodiment and the internalisation of diversity, as I will explore in Chap. 5. Aktel defines multiculturality like this:

Çokkültürlülük is köklü [rooted] diversity. Multicultural societies kök salıyorlar [to root], keep the roots of their different cultures and transmit these differences to different groups in the society and to further generations. For example, the Rum culture, the Jewish culture is in me and you can find the continuation of the Rum culture in people in Burgaz. For instance, Muslims or Jews who grew up with the Rums, learnt Rumca while playing with each other as kids, they know Rum religious days and traditions.

As explored in the Introduction of this book, Aktel’s view on conviviality on the island challenges Kymlicka (1995)’s liberal multiculturalism and Joppke and Lukes (1999)’s mosaic multiculturalism. Aktel’s description of multicultural societies does not refer to coexisting groups, which live side by side, where the boundaries of ethno-religious communities are clearly defined. Multicultural societies are those, who embody each other’s differences. Aktel’s perception of intangible heritage echoes that of Alivizatou (2012, 9), in the ways in which “that it is living and taking shape through embodied skills and performance.” The islanders use the allegories of mosaic and ebru (marbling) to present their conviviality. Their use of “mosaic” is different than mosaic multiculturalism, because they give importance not only to living with difference, but also to the mosaic as the picture of the island, where different groups as a whole make Burgaz multicultural. Hence, the bonding of different communities, the embodiment of diversity and shared ways of living make it a mosaic that stands together. Multiculturalism as a political project, stresses more on the differences and identity politics, and protection of rights to “sustain” the ethno-religious communities. Sustaining the pieces of the mosaic, according to the islanders, is not living side by side and drawing ethno-religious boundaries, but it is through sharing and internalising these differences, as well as living with difference. Therefore, some islanders use the allegory of the ebru, to refine their representation of conviviality. Robert Schild criticises mosaic multiculturalism by introducing the allegory of ebru, which is similar to Benhabib’s criticism of mosaic multiculturalism, who argues that “cultures are complex human practices of signification and representation” (Benhabib 2002, ix) and that “Cultures are formed through complex dialogues with other cultures” (Benhabib 2002, ix). Hazar uses the term ebru for Burgaz, and said that “the main colours remain, but the boundaries of the colours fuse into each other,” similarly to how Schild argued why ebru fitted better to Burgaz, when I interviewed him in 2010. Schild said:

I do not like the allegory of the mosaic because it puts boundaries between groups, and like the people who do not like the term mosaic, I prefer the term ebru [marbling, Figure 21]. In ebru, patterns fuse into each other with blurry boundaries. The stones in the mosaic could fall as the pieces are separated from each other but in ebru the patterns fuse into each other thus ebru is more permanent and solid. So, an ebru-like society has more cohesion between different groups and it is more solid. Do you know the famous quote “Ne mozaiği ulan?” from Alparslan Türkeș?Footnote 3 The nationalists are against the mosaic of differences. Nonetheless, I like the metaphor of the mosaic because it conveys an emotional [he said emotional in English] message; because each stone does not have significance unless all the stones in the mosaic are put together and form a meaningful shape. Both ebru and mosaic appeal to the wholeness of the picture. There are still distinct patterns in ebru; however; the boundaries of the patterns are not clear-cut like in the mosaic, so ebru suits better to Burgaz than mosaic.

Ebru is a very good allegory to represent conviviality, because it embeds in itself, living with difference, where once can see the distinct patterns of the main colours; yet it also shows the embodiment of differences and diversity, where the boundaries of the patterns fuse into each other. This fusion of boundaries gives a stronger unity and sense of Burgaz identity based on diversity. If we were to explore different ethno-religious groups with the allegory of ebru and colours, we can depict Muslims as red, Rum Orthodox as yellow, Jewish as blue and Armenians, let’s say as green; and the state has recognised these colours, based on the millet system. If we were explain the friendship between Hamdi (Sunni Muslim) and Pandelis (Rum Orthodox Christian) in Chap. 6, with colours, we can depict Hamdi as red and Pandelis as yellow. When they hang out together, watch Fenerbahçe matches, they become orange. Pandelis does not want to make Hamdi yellow, or impose yellowness to him, he offers tea and non-alcoholic beverages. Nonetheless, we cannot just depict Hamdi as red and Pandeli yellow, because they not only are religious beings but have multiplicity of characters and identities. For instance, Fortune (Jewish), is depicted as blue. When she fasts like a Muslim, she combines blue with red and turns purple. I have seen Fortune, in all the colours of the rainbow, as she is everywhere with every one of the island. The islanders can be many colours, with darker and lighter shades and also mixed colours, but what is important is that they can perform to be the main distinct colour, whenever they want to and they can also choose to change colours, through living together and internalising each other’s differences. They can also just be any colour, and make and mix colours organically. Hence, it is difficult to say what the colour of fishing and dancing together is. Rainbow? What colour(s) is/are Burgaz culture then? What is the colour of class? What is the colour of men, women, the young and the elderly, refugees, migrants and those who belong to the LGBTQ+? It is difficult and very complex to colour code people and cultures, which is also explained in the ways in which Schild approaches culture and multiculturality of the people. Schild said in his interview in 2010:

Culture does not have an authentic meaning or notion or definition or content. For example, I am multicultural as I am Austrian, Ashkenazi Jew, who was born in Istanbul, who speaks many languages, who went to German school. In Burgaz, you can find many multicultural people like me. Let me give you an example of a non-multicultural person. I know a Sephardic Jewish woman in Istanbul, who only goes dancing and does not know what is going on around her, in the city or country. Both of us are Jewish, but she is stuck in her own bubble and life.

Like Engin Aktel, Schild sees multiculturality as the internalisation of different cultures; a person is multicultural when they “break out of their own bubble,” and do not see themselves, or perform as the only colour that is “assigned to them.” If one is to use ebru, then one can pay attention to the making of ebru, where the colours are on the water, fluid and changing, instead on being fixed and imposed by the state. There are also different tones and shades of main colours, like dark blue, turquoise and so on. Hence, it becomes problematic to depict the colours of Alevis, and their practices, as some Alevis might describe themselves as pink, some orange, based on the syncretic practices they perform, based on the ways in which they see what Alevism is, but the Turkish state sees them as red, as a part of the Sunni Muslims. The politics of recognition restricts the Alevis. When they perform Sunni Muslim practices and want to be a more reddish orange, the politics of recognition encourages them to go back to being orange and separate red components out. As we will see in Chap. 8, Alevis also see themselves as a part of the majority and reject liberal multiculturalism, would not like to be recognised as a minority but rather have specific demands, such as the recognition of the cemevis as places of worship. Hence, they do not want to see the Muslims as red, but maybe as orangy red, or pink tinted colour, which includes their demands within the majority.

Burgaz Is Monocultural (Tekkültürlü)

One of the controversial debates about the diversity of Burgaz revolves around whether Burgaz is monocultural or multicultural. There are two discourses of monoculturalism in Turkey. One discourse of monoculturalism and anti-multiculturalism draws its roots from the hegemony of Turkish nationalism, which Schild had mentioned referring to Alpaslan Türkeș’ attitude against “mosaicness.” Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (the MHP, Nationalist Action Party) is the only party, which is sceptical and critical about Turkey’s entry to the EU (Canefe and Bora 2003, 127). They have anxieties that the EU has a hidden agenda and that the EU is to bring turmoil through promotion of minority rights, human rights, crystallising ethnic, linguistic and religious differences, making them obvious so that Turkey will have inner-conflicts and disintegrate. The current head of MHP, Devlet Bahçeli criticises the EU for imposing its own solutions about how to solve the Cyprus issue without recognising the point of view of the Turkish state and blames the European countries for not recognising the PKK as a terrorist group (Canefe and Bora 2003, 136). These two points Bahçeli makes, back up the MHP’s scepticism that the EU challenges the national security in Turkey. However, Canefe and Bora (2003) point out that although the MHP plays a leading role in expressing Euro-scepticism, they are joined by a new generation republicans who—despite being less nationalist than the MHP—are also uncomfortable with Europe’s attitude to Turkey and sceptical about Turkey’s entry into the EU. Kemalists were influenced by European countries’ legal and political systems to rule the nation. However, the new generation republicans argue that Turkey has no need to copy Europe, nor to be a member of the EU; because Turkey has been becoming a self-sufficient country (Canefe and Bora 2003, 138). In Burgaz, it is this second discourse of monoculturalism which is articulated by the monoculturalists, who respects diversity and a range of different political views.

For instance, some monoculturalists in Burgaz told me that even though I was a good person who wanted to do research in Burgaz, articulated that British universities gave me funding and supported it; because they wanted to know how people live happily, in harmony all together on the island so that they could “divide and rule” as they did during the colonial times. This implies a conspiracy theory-like scepticism: European countries, like Britain, would want Turkey to enter the EU, they would first want Turkey to disintegrate and accept the “western part of Turkey” (see Yılmaz 2011). Furthermore, the fact that the negotiations for Turkey to join the EU were going badly made these new generation republicans sceptical about what the EU wants from Turkey. For instance, some do not want Turkey to join the EU and be under the EU’s hegemony. Unlike those, who favour Turkey’s entry to the EU and promote minority rights, human rights and praise the multiculturalism of Turkey, these monoculturalists believe that multiculturalism emphasises differences, ignores the shared values and hence hinders the cohesion within the society.

For instance, Hazar’s documentary (2005) received both appreciation and criticism from Burgaz islanders, especially the monoculturalist ones. Several islanders, including male, female, Rum, Alevi, Sunni, Kemalist and Jewish also expressed their criticisms. One summed up their criticism by saying “The documentary was superficial, it talked about who is who, and how diverse the island is; but it did not tell what kinds of relationships people have with each other. The documentary was also too positive. Yes, we are happy on Burgaz, but we also gossip behind each other’s back; we are jealous of each other, there are some rich, some poor people. You have to write all of these in your book.” The islanders wanted their conviviality and daily life to be represented as realistically as possible including people’s worries, tensions and jealousies. For them, conviviality in Burgaz was not only about happy moments, but also about economic tensions, daily conflicts and jealousy.

One group of monoculturalists frequently socialise at one bay. They were mainly leftist secular Muslims from different ethnic origins. Some of them liked communist and Marxist ideology. Some were strong Kemalists and secularists, who supported the CHP, read the leftist nationalist Kemalist journal Cumhuriyet (Republic). One common point between all these people were that they all enjoyed drinking by the bay and eating together in restaurants. I was introduced to this group by an Armenian lady whom I met at another bay and whose neighbours socialise at this bay. I explained my research topic to them and they asked me “Do you have a political agenda behind doing this thesis?” I answered them “I am not supported or funded by a political party or organisation. I am doing research on diversity in Burgaz for my anthropological doctoral thesis, funded by a British university. Hmm... I have seen the documentary of Burgaz and was interested to know what kinds of diversity are in Burgaz and how people interact with each other” When I mentioned the documentary of Burgaz, one lady became very annoyed and said:

Mozaik, mozaik! Çokkültürlülük, çokkültürlülük, çokkültürlülük! That documentary was shot only to show that Burgaz is multicultural. Multiculturalism emphasises the differences. Here in Burgaz there is only one culture and it is the culture of Burgaz! It is not çokkültürlülük, it is tekkültürlülük! No one talks about what we share on the island! Yes, people have different religions and they practise them in their places of worship, but in life, daily life, we all live together. We share so much and no one talks about it! I was born in Burgaz. We grew up on this island and we live the same life!

A Marxist man jumped in and said: “The concept of mozaik and the promotion of differences are “wrong” divisive ideologies. You know, that documentary was made to support the reopening of the closed Rum Orthodox Priest School in Heybeliada. The European Union supports its reopening.” A Kemalist man added, “It is the AKP who promotes the reopening of the Priest School because that also implies the opening of Muslim religious schools, Koran courses and Muslim religious cults. This will in the end ruin the secularism and Kemalist ways of governing the country.” The EU required Turkey to recognise social diversity, to improve the treatment of the recognised minorities and to recognise both the non-recognised Muslim and non-Muslim ethnic, religious and denominational groups. In order to meet the criteria to become a member of the EU, the AKP worked on implementing the so-called democratic policies. Erdoğan worked on reopening the Greek Orthodox Seminary in Halki, in Heybeliada, one of the Princes’ Islands of Istanbul (Soner 2010). The secularists were apprehensive about the reopening of the Seminary as an autonomous theological institution because this would also allow Muslims to open religious institutions and pursue religious activities without the control of the state (Soner 2010, 38).

This heated conversation was very interesting because, on the one hand, these monoculturalists used the discourse of monoculturalism to emphasise the shared ways of living. On the other hand, they did not ignore religious differences. They highlighted that when multiculturalists talked about differences, they ignored what people share with each other. The monoculturalists emphasis on what they had in common in Burgaz, as a distinctive identity—being Burgazlı—rather than focusing on the religious, linguistic or ethnic differences between them has a similar aspect with the “authentic hybridity” that Ballinger (2003) developed with regard to IstrianFootnote 4 identity. Her informants in Istria stressed, “We can’t distinguish ourselves as Croat or Slovene or Italian—rather we are Istrians” (Ballinger 2003, 254). Yet, Ballinger also pointed out the inclusions and exclusions which are embedded in what constructs the authentic hybridity of Istrian identity. The “genuine Istrians” include the Latin-Slav cultural fusion, however, the newcomers, such as the Serbs, Bosnians, Kosovars and Albanians are excluded from the “authentic hybridity” of Istria (Ballinger 2003, 245–265). Yet, in Burgaz, the new comers such as the Armenians, Jews, Alevis and Kurdish settlers, as shown in Kestane Karası and the documentary of Burgaz and are included in the collective Burgaz identity, which is stressed by the monoculturalists.

The Kemalist man used the monoculturalism discourse to criticise the AKP government. He was sceptical about AKP’s pro-EU attitude because he believed that the AKP had a hidden agenda in promoting the rights of the non-Muslims in order to open the religious Koran schools and increase his power. Interestingly, when the Rum Orthodox Priest School was reopened for the first time to the public to display an exhibition, one year after our heated conversation, that Kemalist man and his wife went to see the exhibition. I went with them to the reopening and they were excited to see the school and the exhibition and took many photos. So, these monoculturalists did not use the discourse of monoculturalism to argue for a radical nationalistic view, they do not ignore people’s differences but they do use it to emphasise what people have common in Burgaz and to defend secularism against the AKP’s religious agenda.

Their monoculturalism discourse challenge multiculturalism, as a political project, which has a coexistence approach towards cultural pluralism and conceptualises society as divided into “coexisting groups.” As postulated by mosaic multiculturalists, Joppke and Lukes, society is formed not only of individuals but also by social groups which have “their own culture and ways of living” (Joppke and Lukes 1999, 5 cited in Cowan 2006, 11). Supranational organisations like the UN and UNESCO see culture as difference (Eriksen 2001, 131) and cultures as islands, archipelagos or peninsulas, a mosaic put together (Eriksen 2001, 127). Their mosaic approach to culture and society puts boundaries between “social groups,” essentialises “their culture” and assumes that “social groups”—whether ethnic and/or religious—are homogenous within themselves and are separated from each other (Brubaker 2002). Such an attitude fails to see the content and degrees of interactions across communities and the intercultural and intercommunal dialogues; fails to acknowledge the heterogeneity within these groups and neglects the dynamic and organic aspect of culture as a practice and way of living. Similarly, Baumann (1996) also challenges the dominant discourse in British politics, which equates ethnicity, community and culture to each other in a reductive way, yet the way people behave shows that people do not “have” or “own” culture but “make” culture (Baumann 1996, 6). The dominant discourse, rooted in the colonial period, sees communities as separate and distinct entities and affirms that ethnic minorities are defined by their reified cultures and cause social problems for the nation. That kind of reification has the danger of essentialising cultures and equating culture with ethnos implies that cultural differences come from ethnic, biological differences (Baumann 1996, 12). However, descent and race are not biologically but, rather, socially constructed (Baumann 1996, 17). Baumann (1996) criticises this dominant discourse through showing the workings of alternative discourses he defines as demotic where culture is contested within communities, that there is no homogenous shared culture, that culture is contested (Baumann 1996, 2) and that communities are not bounded.

Concluding Remarks

I would like to end this chapter, with one of my informants, Zeynep’s, of Keldani Arab origin, discussion of the terms monoculturalism versus multiculturalism on Burgaz. She said:

If monoculturalism emphasises the solidarity between the islanders and means that we are all equal, then it is a good attitude. However, this monoculturalism should not dominate multiculturalism with the aim of ignoring differences; because for me, Burgaz is the land of freedom, of diversity and togetherness. Burgaz is both monocultural and multicultural, because we all follow our different religions and we all share Burgaz culture.

Liberal and mosaic multiculturalism, and coexistence/toleration see ethno-religious communities as distinct, confined cultures, like archipelagos and mosaics put together and they imply side-by-side living (Keyder 2018; Eriksen 2001; Kymlicka 1995; Taylor 1992; Benhabib 2002). Baban (2018) uses the terms pre-modern multiculturalism to describe the Ottoman social fabric in the nineteenth century, by arguing that during that time, members of the millets lived side by side in different neighbourhoods in Istanbul without interacting with each other. Keyder (2018) rather disagrees with this view and uses the term “cosmopolitanism,” when he describes Istanbul, its past and present. In cosmopolitanism, communal boundaries are porous, one observes intercommunal mixing, and individuals interact organically with each other. Keyder (2018) sees cosmopolitanism as a resilience mechanism against assimilation, nationalism, homogenisation and authoritarianism. Nonetheless, cosmopolitans are seen as footless and deracinated people (Keyder 2018; Zubaida 2018). Their differences are almost invisible in the ways in which they mingle in the city (see Biehl 2018) and they lack the solidarity and collectivity as they are merely seen as individuals engaging with each other (Radice 2016). Social cohesion is usually related with nationalism and ethnic engineering, which artificially aims to homogenise the diversity within the nation, by creating a superimposed collective national identity and monoculturalism (Larsen 2013). In the case of Turkey, Sunni Turkish Muslim identity was meant to glue the people together, after the collapse of the multicultural and plural Ottoman Empire. An imposed national identity to create social cohesion backfired in Europe and in the Balkans during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In the case of Burgaz, it was not the national identity that has created solidarity among the islanders, but the sense of belonging in a local place, shared local identity and shared ways of living. A national Turkish identity imposed by Turkish governments in order to unify the nation oppressed minorities and non-recognised groups.

Conviviality as a concept that I have developed based on the ethnographic data and interviews with Burgaz islanders, put these terms “multiculturalism, cosmopolitanism and social cohesion” in dialogue with each other and challenges the problems that come with the implications of these terms. Conviviality in Burgaz, on the one hand refers to living with difference, where the islanders perform their differences, whether it is about going to their place of worship and practising their religious rituals, they speak the language they would like to, they can identify themselves as Rum, Jewish or Alevi and articulate their sense of belonging to an ethno-religious community and their difference is appreciated and respected. This refers to the coexistence and multicultural aspect of conviviality as living with difference. Conviviality is also the embodiment of diversity and shared ways of living, when the islanders produce the island culture, through dancing, singing, fishing, working, as well as fighting with each other, or working for the island, by providing services, all of which make them feel as a Burgaz islander and articulate their sense of belonging to Burgaz. Collective embodiment of the island through the diversity of senses is one of the mechanisms of conviviality that “glues” or bonds the islanders to each other. The social cohesion, solidarity and Burgaz identity is based on both being able to live together, embodying diversity, performing syncretic religious practices as well as being different and being appreciated for being different. Hence, multiculturality is the embodiment of diversity, unlike side-by-side living as postulated by mosaic and liberal multiculturalisms. Social cohesion and solidarity are constructed through shared ways of living and living with difference, where multicultural and monocultural living coexist, unlike and in opposition to a superimposed national identity (see Chap. 7). To the contrary, national homogenisation and any attack to the diversity of the island is resisted by acts of solidarity; and conviviality acts as a resilience mechanism for the attacks that puts in danger an islander or the island. Like cosmopolitans, the islanders mingle together, but they are also rooted in Burgaz and articulate a strong sense of being Burgazlı, and show acts of solidarity during crisis times. Embodiment of diversity, shared ways of living and living with difference, all together, enforce social cohesion because the islanders can be different and also embody diversity, form collectivity and articulate a shared Burgazlı identity that is based on diversity, by valuing it, performing it and reproducing it.