Historical Relativity
Last October our close neighbor Turkey marked the eightieth anniversary of the time when the medieval Ottoman Sultanate vanished off the world map, giving way to the Republic of Turkey. This was the result of many factors such as the historical decline of a once powerful Ottoman Empire, surrender in World War I, and national liberation struggle in a country which the Allied Powers intended to partition, that is, to eliminate. This revolutionary struggle began in 1919 and ended with the withdrawal of the Entente occupational forces and the signing of the 1923 Lausanne Peace Treaty that drew Turkey’s current borders. On October 29, 1923, the Turkish majlis (parliament) proclaimed Turkey a republic with Mustafa Kemal (called Ataturk, meaning “father of the Turks”) at the head. The Kemalists embarked on ensuring the economic and political independence of their country, cultural reforms, public education, and consistent secularization of governmental institutions. Although Turkey has 97% of its territory located in Asia, it now takes an active part in European affairs, is a NATO member, and aspires to join the EU.
Oddly enough, the medieval Ottoman Empire, with Istanbul as its capital, was much closer to Ukraine than its successor was in the Soviet times. Cossack boats used to make forays into Turkey down the Dnipro and the Don, envoys and merchants used to ramble across the Great Steppe, while the enemy Turkish troops would sometimes turn into allies. Conversely, the Soviet Iron Curtain separated us from the outside world so tightly that Turkey — a stone’s throw away across the sea — was something remote, unreal, bookish, and completely alien. (Luckily, we have made up for this now!)
In honor of the eightieth anniversary, Turkey’s Ambassador to Ukraine, Bilge Cankorel, invited guests to a National Philharmonic concert featuring a well-known Turkish lady pianist Gulsin Onay. Many of those present were somewhat surprised at the title, “Sultan Mohammed II the Conqueror,” that the well-known Turkish composer Cemal Resit Rey gave to his symphonic poem on the concert’s program. The doubting Thomases had to realize the simple and obvious fact that for the Turks Sultan Mohammed II is one of the most prominent figures of their history, as Napoleon is for the French or Frederick II the Great for the Germans, and, while the Orthodox world views the fall of Constantinople as a historical tragedy, the Turks still regard it as a brilliant victory of their renowned general. Or consider this example: the Ukrainians will always view the Battle of Poltava, glorious from the Russian viewpoint, as a bitter defeat. (However, many Ukrainians are yet to understand this.)
The previous regime taught us to look at the whole world from the same angle and weeded out of us the awareness that all historical assessments are relative — as a result, we are unable today to fathom many things. For example, that almost all so-called heroes of world history were conquerors and builders of great empires or, put simply, oppressors and destroyers of other peoples on whose behalf history is never written (“Woe betide the defeated!”). All the other outstanding people — great scientists, enlighteners, saints, and artists — are merely secondary characters on the stage of a theater called history. I am convinced, in particular, that the conqueror Mohammed II ranks higher in the Turkish historical memory than, say, Kemal Ataturk who played a crucial role in the making of an independent republic, promoted a democratic constitution and economic development, and abolished the omnipotent sharia.
Every epoch has its own historical views, stereotypes, and idols. So it is not worthwhile for a modern individual to blindly follow medieval formulas and live today “by historical hatred,” as do, for example, the Russian Orthodox Church and its Ukrainian branch, spewing imperial venom at Ukrainian Uniates. Their hatred is so intense that one might think it is the sixteenth century now. Moreover, the historical paradox is that 400 years ago Moscow had nothing to do with the Kyiv diocese’s affairs and almost did not react to the Union.
Our inability to revise historical stereotypes causes us many problems. Consider for example our relations with the Poles. Unfortunately, very few of us remember now that the Ukrainians were not always victims in our confrontation with the Poles, and that we have trodden on their toes often enough in the past few centuries to have now the reason and the desire to forgive or, better still, forget their misdeeds. Another example is the proverbial and dramatic inability of many well-educated Russians, whom we call our like-minded neighbors, to recognize the historical truth and our right to independent existence. So let us descend from the hill from which we observe the present and the past and look occasionally at the world from the standpoint of our opponent. Maybe, we will then know ourselves better. The more so that many other nations have already reconciled their differences with their so- called eternal foes and set precedents that are worth following, the graphic examples being the current French-German relations or rapprochement between former enemies in the Spanish civil war.
Yet, it is time to get back to the beautiful musical soiree arranged for Kyivans by Mr. Bilge Cankorel, Ambassador of Turkey to Ukraine. The concert featured Mykhailo Stepanenko’s Romantic Symphony, Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 3 for piano and orchestra, and the mentioned symphonic poem Sultan Mohammed II the Conqueror by Cemal Resit Rey. The latter is quite an interesting opus that strikes you with its themes as well as the richness, beauty, and fantasy of orchestration. The composer displayed wonderful mastery in combining the Turkish and European musical styles and thus creating a brilliantly convincing harmony between the East and West.
