6-7 September 1955: A black anniversary for all Greeks. Lest we forget the Septemvriana in Constantinople/Istanbul - the vicious Turkish pogrom against the Greeks of the city. Quietly and insidiously 'encouraged' by the British who stood to lose a lot in Cyprus, and largely ignored by the International community whose hypocrisy knows no limits, all hell broke loose on that terrible night in Constantinople.
Brutal, vengeful
and destructive, the frenzied mobs brought in primarily from Anatolia to theoretically avenge a bomb (planted by the Turks themselves and somehow 'predicted' by the British) in Ataturk's Thessaloniki home, would almost annihilate the vibrant Greek community
forcing them to flee yet again...
The Toll for the Greek Community
4,500 Greek homes,
3,500 Greek owned shops and businesses,
90 churches and monasteries,
36 schools
3 cemeteries
Two priests burnt alive,
14 other Greeks killed,
Hundreds of Greek women raped and
many thousands of Greeks beaten and maimed
Even the dead were not spared as cemeteries were desecrated and bodies dug up...
Constantinople's vibrant Greek community was effectively decimated
what began on that fateful Tuesday in 1453 would be completed on another fateful Tuesday in 1955...
Years later, on 7 September 2005, the 50th Anniversary of the pogrom, Turkish journalist Mehmet Ali Birand would write this in the Hurriyet:
The shame of September 6-7 is always with us
I am one of the living witnesses of what happened in Istanbul 50 years
ago. I was 14 years old. I did not know what it was all about. However,
the passage of time made me understand the seriousness of the incidents,
and I always carry the shame.
Even though it was the only
such incident in which the Turkish state officially admitted its
culpability and tried to compensate its victims, it still continues to
weigh on our conscience.
I can never forget.
I can still remember what I saw in Beyoğlu on the morning of Sept. 7, 1955.
I had to go to Galatasaray High School to register for their
preliminary class. I reached Beyoğlu with great difficulty. When I went
to Tunel from Karaköy, I just was flabbergasted.
The scene was shocking.
The huge street seemed like a war zone, with windows of the shops on
both sides of the street shattered and all their goods strewn all over
the street. Bunches of clothes, books, notebooks, chandeliers and much
more. People were taking home whatever they could find. The scene was
like judgment day.
I was a child, and I had no idea what had happened.
What I noticed immediately was that while some shops were plundered,
others were not even touched. I had a look and saw that there was a
Turkish flag hanging on the windows of the shops that were not looted.
Those that were had Greek names.
People with long beards and
those who were dressed very shabbily were walking around. I saw that
some people who were dressed normally were hiding in the shops, looking
outside.
The police and the soldiers seemed like they were
saying: "Enough is enough. You did what you did, but now just leave."
They were both intervening and not intervening at the same time.
That scene has always remained with me.
Even though half a century has passed, I still shiver when I remember it.
When I read the newspapers a day later, I realized the extent of the matter.
Similar incidents had occurred also in Taksim and Şişli, where most of
the citizens of Greek origin lived. Not only the shops, but also
churches, even cemeteries were damaged and plundered. Jewish citizens
also got their share of trouble, but the main targets were Greeks.
Newspapers were writing about people waving Turkish flags, pleading
with the looters: "Please don't do it. I'm a Turk. I am a Turkish
citizen."
It was a disgusting, belittling and tragic affair.
My mother and other adults were criticizing what had happened, while
officials were talking about "the placing of a bomb at the house in
Thessaloniki where Atatürk was born, which had been turned into a
museum, and the anger felt against what was happening in Cyprus,"
explaining that the people had become enraged.
We were living
on Ethem Efendi Street at the time. Our neighbors were mostly Greek.
They were my best friends. All of a sudden, they shut themselves in
their homes. They talked to no one. I can never forget Madam Eleni when
she asked, "Can we seek refuge in your home if they attack us?" The
barbershop she managed with her husband was in ruins. They were in
shock. My mother sent them food for a week. We let them live in one of
our rooms.
I was too young to make sense of what had happened.
Why should they attack Madam Eleni? What could they ask from them? Why
were they different from me?
As I was seeking answers to these
questions, the Greek families in our neighborhood started to move to
other places or go to Greece. After 1963 none of them were left.
They
left Istanbul.
They took with them an important culture, a color and a different lifestyle.
They left us alone in Istanbul to live our colorless lives.
Later on we were full of regret, but by then it was too late.
Turkey admitted all culpability, accepted responsibility:
Much later, we learned the Sept. 6-7 incidents were the doing of the
infamous "deep state." It was planned with government approval in order
to let diplomats say "The people are reacting" during the U.N.
discussions on Cyprus. However, it later got out of control and turned
into a shameful plunder. It became a crime that the deep state could not
handle, and it shamed the Turkish nation.
What's interesting
is that apart from a few injuries, no one was killed. It wasn't a
massacre. It was a disgusting plunder aimed at frightening people.
What's even more interesting is the way Sept. 6-7 shamed us and hurt us and tainted us as a nation.
This was also recorded as the only such incident when the Republic of
Turkey officially admitted its responsibility, apologized and
compensated the victims.
At the Yassıada trials, after the May
21, 1960 military coup, the Sept. 6-7 incidents were investigated down
to the smallest detail, and those held responsible were tried and
punished.
As always, there was no mention as the deep state. It
emerged entirely unscathed by the affair. A few thieves, civilians with
no links to the planning or to the politicians, were punished.
In the later years, whenever the Sept. 6-7 incidents were mentioned, I
felt an overwhelming shame and I always apologized to the victims I saw
at international meetings.
During the Sept. 6-7 incidents our
Turkishness was trampled underfoot. It was then I realized that if we
don't criticize such incidents and apologize to the victims, we can
never feel proud of ourselves.
Apologizing is enriching. It shows self-confidence.
Discriminating due to religion, language or culture or using force on the weak is belittling one's self.
I don't know you, but I apologize to our neighbor Madam Eleni from Erenköy.
Mehmet Ali Birand was an excellent journalist, a friend of Greece and above all, a realist. It would have taken a great deal of courage for him to write these words and for them to be published in the Hurriyet. It isn't easy to criticise your own country, even if it is responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against humanity in history. It is to Ali Birand's credit that he wrote this apology.
Brutal, vengeful and destructive, the frenzied mobs brought in primarily from Anatolia to theoretically avenge a bomb (planted by the Turks themselves and somehow 'predicted' by the British) in Ataturk's Thessaloniki home, would almost annihilate the vibrant Greek community forcing them to flee yet again...
The Toll for the Greek Community
4,500 Greek homes,
3,500 Greek owned shops and businesses,
90 churches and monasteries,
36 schools
3 cemeteries
3,500 Greek owned shops and businesses,
90 churches and monasteries,
36 schools
3 cemeteries
Two priests burnt alive,
14 other Greeks killed,
Hundreds of Greek women raped and many thousands of Greeks beaten and maimed
Even the dead were not spared as cemeteries were desecrated and bodies dug up...
Hundreds of Greek women raped and many thousands of Greeks beaten and maimed
Even the dead were not spared as cemeteries were desecrated and bodies dug up...
Constantinople's vibrant Greek community was effectively decimated
what began on that fateful Tuesday in 1453 would be completed on another fateful Tuesday in 1955...
what began on that fateful Tuesday in 1453 would be completed on another fateful Tuesday in 1955...
Years later, on 7 September 2005, the 50th Anniversary of the pogrom, Turkish journalist Mehmet Ali Birand would write this in the Hurriyet:
The shame of September 6-7 is always with us
I am one of the living witnesses of what happened in Istanbul 50 years ago. I was 14 years old. I did not know what it was all about. However, the passage of time made me understand the seriousness of the incidents, and I always carry the shame.
Even though it was the only such incident in which the Turkish state officially admitted its culpability and tried to compensate its victims, it still continues to weigh on our conscience.
I can never forget.
I can still remember what I saw in Beyoğlu on the morning of Sept. 7, 1955.
I had to go to Galatasaray High School to register for their preliminary class. I reached Beyoğlu with great difficulty. When I went to Tunel from Karaköy, I just was flabbergasted.
The scene was shocking.
The huge street seemed like a war zone, with windows of the shops on both sides of the street shattered and all their goods strewn all over the street. Bunches of clothes, books, notebooks, chandeliers and much more. People were taking home whatever they could find. The scene was like judgment day.
I was a child, and I had no idea what had happened.
What I noticed immediately was that while some shops were plundered, others were not even touched. I had a look and saw that there was a Turkish flag hanging on the windows of the shops that were not looted.
Those that were had Greek names.
People with long beards and those who were dressed very shabbily were walking around. I saw that some people who were dressed normally were hiding in the shops, looking outside.
The police and the soldiers seemed like they were saying: "Enough is enough. You did what you did, but now just leave." They were both intervening and not intervening at the same time.
That scene has always remained with me.
Even though half a century has passed, I still shiver when I remember it.
When I read the newspapers a day later, I realized the extent of the matter.
Similar incidents had occurred also in Taksim and Şişli, where most of the citizens of Greek origin lived. Not only the shops, but also churches, even cemeteries were damaged and plundered. Jewish citizens also got their share of trouble, but the main targets were Greeks.
Newspapers were writing about people waving Turkish flags, pleading with the looters: "Please don't do it. I'm a Turk. I am a Turkish citizen."
It was a disgusting, belittling and tragic affair.
My mother and other adults were criticizing what had happened, while officials were talking about "the placing of a bomb at the house in Thessaloniki where Atatürk was born, which had been turned into a museum, and the anger felt against what was happening in Cyprus," explaining that the people had become enraged.
We were living on Ethem Efendi Street at the time. Our neighbors were mostly Greek. They were my best friends. All of a sudden, they shut themselves in their homes. They talked to no one. I can never forget Madam Eleni when she asked, "Can we seek refuge in your home if they attack us?" The barbershop she managed with her husband was in ruins. They were in shock. My mother sent them food for a week. We let them live in one of our rooms.
I was too young to make sense of what had happened. Why should they attack Madam Eleni? What could they ask from them? Why were they different from me?
As I was seeking answers to these questions, the Greek families in our neighborhood started to move to other places or go to Greece. After 1963 none of them were left.
They left Istanbul.
They took with them an important culture, a color and a different lifestyle.
They left us alone in Istanbul to live our colorless lives.
Later on we were full of regret, but by then it was too late.
Turkey admitted all culpability, accepted responsibility:
Much later, we learned the Sept. 6-7 incidents were the doing of the infamous "deep state." It was planned with government approval in order to let diplomats say "The people are reacting" during the U.N. discussions on Cyprus. However, it later got out of control and turned into a shameful plunder. It became a crime that the deep state could not handle, and it shamed the Turkish nation.
What's interesting is that apart from a few injuries, no one was killed. It wasn't a massacre. It was a disgusting plunder aimed at frightening people.
What's even more interesting is the way Sept. 6-7 shamed us and hurt us and tainted us as a nation.
This was also recorded as the only such incident when the Republic of Turkey officially admitted its responsibility, apologized and compensated the victims.
At the Yassıada trials, after the May 21, 1960 military coup, the Sept. 6-7 incidents were investigated down to the smallest detail, and those held responsible were tried and punished.
As always, there was no mention as the deep state. It emerged entirely unscathed by the affair. A few thieves, civilians with no links to the planning or to the politicians, were punished.
In the later years, whenever the Sept. 6-7 incidents were mentioned, I felt an overwhelming shame and I always apologized to the victims I saw at international meetings.
During the Sept. 6-7 incidents our Turkishness was trampled underfoot. It was then I realized that if we don't criticize such incidents and apologize to the victims, we can never feel proud of ourselves.
Apologizing is enriching. It shows self-confidence.
Discriminating due to religion, language or culture or using force on the weak is belittling one's self.
I don't know you, but I apologize to our neighbor Madam Eleni from Erenköy.
May God rest his soul and the souls of all those who suffered and fled Constantinople in terror, persecuted and terrorised simply because they happened to be born Greek...
LEST WE FORGET
You may like to have a look at the very moving video below by Stavros Nashi who as a child lived through that terrible night in September of 1955, his family one of the many who would flee to a new life in the USA...
Stavros writes wonderful stories in his blog My Greek Odyssey. I discovered his post on the pogrom while searching for a video to add to this story.
The sentence Stavros starts with in his latest post on the black anniversary Marked for Elimination: History Repeats Itself goes like this:
One of my favorite authors, Thea Halo, wrote about the genocide of the Pontic Greeks, in her book "Not Even My Name."
"To remember does not mean stirring up hatred within
or without.
Hatred destroys what was good and pure in the past and the
present.
It simply means to embrace what is ours"
Stavros and Thea are right.
We mustn't forget.... EVER!
Fast forward to 2013...
In an ironic twist that only life itself can bring, today, 58 years later, Greece took on Turkey in the Eurobasket Championships and won 84-61...
In an ironic twist that only life itself can bring, today, 58 years later, Greece took on Turkey in the Eurobasket Championships and won 84-61...
We would like to think that a fight for supremacy in a sports arena is the only kind of Greco-Turkish 'battle' that we will ever have to bear witness to again.
To Read More on the 1955 Pogrom
Wikipedia
Wikipedia
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