Alaturka

In the Time of Alaturka: Identifying Difference in Musical Discourse
Author(s): John Morgan O'Connell

Source: Ethnomusicology, Vol. 49, No. 2 (Spring/Summer, 2005), pp. 177-205
Published by: University of Illinois Press on behalf of Society for Ethnomusicology
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Vol. 49, No. 2
Ethnomusicology
Spring/Summer 2005
In the Time of Alaturka: Identifying
Difference in Musical Discourse

John Morgan O'Connell / University of Limerick
In the Time of Alaturka: Identifying Difference

In particular,
it concerns the
the ways
in which an orientalistof
conception
This paper
concerns
identification
difference in musical discourse.
of Turkish style (Italian, alia turca) was appropriated in Turkey during the
nineteenth century to define a native musical tradition (Turkish, alaturka)
and to differentiate it from Western musical practice (Turkish, alafrangd).
The article shows howTurkish commentators manipulated the term alaturka,
which represented the penetration of European terminology in Turkish mu

sical discourse, to validate contemporary aesthetic biases. In this respect,
the essay traces the diachronic expression of "otherness" at four distinc
tive moments in history. First, it identifies the construction of difference in
Western art music during the 1780s. Second, it explores the appropriation of
difference in Ottoman military music during the 1850s.Third, it follows the
articulation of difference in Turkish art music during the 1920s and, fourth,
it traces the survival of difference in Turkish popular music during the 1990s.
At each stage, it sonically and socially marks the distinctive manifestations of
alaturka, showing the numerous ways in which musical discourse expresses
cultural difference in the sacred and secular realms, in the temporal and
spatial domains respectively.
The notion of alaturka also provides provides an ideal locus for theorizing
about alterity.That is, it demonstrates the evolutionary character of difference
and the iterative quality of discourse. However, this discourse of difference
is not confined exclusively to the verbal domain. As experienced today, it
is presented both audibly and visibly in musical performance, showing the
significance of expressive culture for uncovering complex registers of Turk
ish identity. Principally informed by post-structuralist theory, the paper not
only explains the apparent demise of alaturka inTurkish verbalized discourse,
? 2005 by the Society for Ethnomusicology
177
/ 78 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

but it also examines the tangible survival of alaturka in Turkish performance
practice. In this way, traces of the alaturka phenomenon appear today in the
Turkish popular imagination.1

Alaturka is a multivalent term signifying Eastern difference. Literally mean
ing "in a Turkish manner," alaturka is the Turkish spelling of an Italian term
(alia turca) that was originally employed by Europeans to express a Christian

ambivalence towards Islamic culture. During the 1850s, "alaturka" was ap
propriated by the Turks to mark linguistically a cultural distinction between
Ottoman values and European sensibilities. In particular, an influential group

of political reformers employed the term to express a contemporary antipa
thy towards Eastern taste (called "alaturka") and to advocate instead their
preference for Western style (called "alafranga"). Accordingly, alaturka was
defined by default. Different from alafranga, alaturka existed as a heterodox
expression of Turkishness. Further, alaturka deferred to alafranga. That is, it
was tied to alafranga in a symbiotic but unequal relationship, a relationship

used by some to contain traditional practice within the delimiting strictures
of verbalized discourse. During the 1920s, alaturka was again the subject of
discursive interest.As Derrida might argue,alaturka was a term of diff?rance.2
That is, it deferred to a tradition of differences emerging from and dissolving
into verbal discourse .Appearing now as an indicator of temporal distinction,
it was employed by nationalist ideologues to define the musical practices of

an outdated Ottoman past, practices that were not consistent with the mod
ernist aspirations of the Turkish Republic newly founded in 1923. By 1990,
alaturka had become a term of indifference. Believed by most commentators
to have ended, it no longer seems to defer to a tradition of religious, cultural,
and temporal differences. Rather, it endures in the practices of the present,
now being identified with an Arab (ar?besk) rather than with aTurkish style.
However, this redefinition disguises the recapitulation of the alaturka phe

nomenon in the non-verbal domain.As a sonic articulation of Eastern alterity,
it persists today as an unspoken vestige in musical practice.
The End of Alaturka: Identifying Turkish Difference

When I conducted field research in Istanbul from 1991-94,1 was struck
by the repetition of a recurrent expression that encapsulated the death of
an era,"Everything has ended" ("hepsi bitti").This saying was explicitly em
ployed to make sense of the dramatic changes that had occurred in Istanbul
over the past three decades, changes that fundamentally affected the physical
constitution, the social fabric, and the cultural life of the city. Due largely
to the immigration of rural settlers from Anatolia, this rapid transformation
of the Turkish metropolis was the subject of critical commentary covering

a broad set of issues ranging from environmental degradation to moral de
O'Connell'.In the Time of Alaturka 179

generation. As a countermeasure to this contemporary experience of urban
chaos, the saying "everything is finished" was also implicitly manipulated
to conjure up an idealized past where the uncertainties of the future and
the certainties of the present are circumscribed. While the definition of the
past is debatable (being dependent upon different conceptions of history),

the nostalgic evocation of a bygone era is widely celebrated in expressive
culture and actively marketed by commercial interests. Music plays a key role
in this modern veneration of tradition. On the one hand, the musical tastes of
the present are multiple, reflecting the complex textures of Turkish society.
They are mediated by the record industry and shaped (broadly speaking) by
Western aesthetic values. On the other hand, the musical tastes of the past
appear in retrospect to be simplified, seemingly fossilized as tradition by
the same musical outlets that seek to preserve a historic Eastern flavor for
posterity.This dialogue between the past and the present is consistent with
an ongoing debate in Turkish musical discourse between Eastern (alaturka)
and Western (alafranga) aesthetic preferences, preferences that conform
respectively to the traditional and to the modern classes outlined above. In
this dialogue, Eastern musical styles have largely been replaced by Western
musical tastes. Simply put, alaturka is considered to have ended.
The end of alaturka is neatly encapsulated in Necdet Ugur's publication
Alia Turca'nin Sonu (The End of Alia Turca) (1996).3 In this book, he traces
the demise of traditional values in contemporary political life and advocates a
new political system founded upon the principles of local economy. Critical
of the contemporary bureaucratic system in Turkey, he shows how Turk
ish institutions replicate an antiquated European model. He argues that this
model was more suited to the first period of Westernizing reforms (during
the nineteenth century) and was less suited to the modern Turkish situation
where rapid globalization and increasing industrialization are characteristic

of the new information age. He understands this disparity in terms of an
ongoing native engagement with (what he calls) an alaturka mindset. Sig
nificantly needing to define the term alaturka for a contemporary audience,
he writes:
Alaturka has a special meaning for us Turks. It is a lifestyle, it is a certain type
of behavior. We employ alaturka to describe a leisurely disposition, a haphaz

ard attitude, a topsy-turvy manner and a poorly worked out idea. Alaturka is a
worldview peculiar to us Turks. For instance, we talk about an alaturka man,
an alaturka organization, an alaturka work, an alaturka mentality and an alaturka
conduct. (Ugur 1996:11-12)

Further he argues more forcibly, "For us alaturka has ended. That is, if we
want to function in modern-day society, we have to abandon alaturka. The
price is too high" (1996:12). Conversely, he traces the origins of civil society
180 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

to the influence of European enlightened thought upon Ottoman emissaries
and upon Ottoman rulers who experimented with European expressive styles
to redefine a newTurkish style.This new style was called alafranga.While this
Westernized style went through a number of different stages of development,
it set about a fundamental cleavage in Turkish cultural discourse, a debate

about aesthetic preference between East (alaturka) and West (alafranga) that
still persists today (albeit in a modified form).
Ugur (1996:12) alludes to the significance of alaturka in the present.

That is, he demonstrates the ways in which traditional practices associated
with an Ottoman past survive in a Republican present?archaic practices
that exist unnamed precisely because they are believed to have ended. In
this respect he adopts a modernist strategy of attempting to define relevant
cultural practices and of trying to label aberrant forms using the language
of difference. By employing an older spelling of alaturka ("alia turca"), he
is at once able to categorize apparent deviance and, at the same time, to
indicate the antique pedigree of this classificatory system, tracing its ori
gins to the earliest period of Westernization in Turkey. As such, he defers to
a tradition of differences in a modern way. That is, he invokes a repetitive

figure in Turkish discourse seeking to bifurcate Turkish culture into Eastern
(alaturka) and Western (alafranga) classes and to bisect Turkish history into
traditional and modern categories. Further, he implicitly manipulates these
relationships to validate his own vision of a modern Turkey, a nation that is
freed from the debilitating strictures of pre-modern customs and a state that
is able to participate with commercial success and technological expertise

in a postmodern economy.That Ugur should recall an ancient debate in this
manner is not accidental. In this, he is addressing a recent trend among Turk
ish historians to critique the national ideals of Republican modernity and

to revisit instead the imperial values of Ottoman tradition. Questioning this
contemporary nostalgia for an idealized past, he situates his argument at the
dawn of modernity, examining critically the evolution of alaturka in Turkey
and deriding the current veneration of this phenomenon among certain
revisionists. In this way, Ugur hopes to make a modern break with tradition
by bracketing the past with taxonomic efficiency and by imagining a future
that emerges from his understanding of a reconstituted present.
Ugur also alludes to the significance of alaturka in the past. Evading a
more recent interrogation of difference that envisages Arabness (rather than
Turkishness) as a focus of subversive interest, he defers to an older discur
sive tradition. That is, he reflects back upon an earlier polemical debate
concerning Turkish identity where alaturka was defined in its opposition to
alafranga. In this debate, the symbiotic relationship between alaturka and
alafranga was not only deployed in the classification of dress codes (Eastern
vs. Western), eating habits (native vs. foreign), personal hygiene (hamam vs.
O'Connell: In the Time of Alaturka 181

bathroom), and temporal conceptions (Islamic vs. Christian); rather, it was
also used to describe difference in Turkish musical discourse. Alaturka and
alafranga were employed to define and distinguish between a wide range of
entertainment practices involving music, including dance styles, theatrical
events, nightclub programs, and wrestling matches. In musical contexts, the
terms were used to categorize music performers, music styles, music instru
ments, music ensembles, and music departments. In the media, the distinctive
classes are well represented in print culture, appearing in record catalogs, in
radio schedules, in concert programs, and in film advertisements. Further,

the term alaturkact was used in colloquial parlance to signify a musician of
limited musical ability and of low social standing. Like Ugur's description
above, an alaturkaci was poorly educated, poorly dressed, and poorly pre
pared. He (sometimes she) performed a semi-classical repertoire in popular
venues for a mixed-audience probably (if the stereotypes are to be believed)
more interested in alcoholic consumption than in artistic expression.4 For
Ugur, alaturka is the symbolic capital of a benighted imperial past, a past
that has ended in theory but continues in practice.While Ugur is principally
concerned with the construction of difference in Turkish culture, he fails to
discuss the origin of the alaturka polemic in non-Turkish sources.
In the Time of Alia Turca: Identifying Religious Difference

Alia turca was an ambivalent term denoting Turkish difference. Probably
coined by the Italians during the seventeenth century with reference to

the military music of the Janissary band (mehterh?n?),5 alla turca was one
of many terms used by Europeans to define religious difference in expres
sive culture. In this respect,Turkish themes were employed to portray the
threat of Islamic attacks upon Christian interests, a threat that found tangible
expression in epic dramas, carnival festivities, and jousting tournaments.

In particular, the contemporary fear of Turkish culture was articulated in
the phrase "to turn Turk," a pejorative expression that explicitly referred to
religious conversion but implicitly signified treacherous betrayal or tragic

misfortune.Turkish themes were also used to represent Christian triumphs
over Muslim opponents. Following the defeat of the Turkish fleet at the Battle
of Lepanto (1571), victory celebrations featured Turkish motifs in a wide va
riety of public displays, including civic pageants, masked balls, and mock sea
battles. When the menace of Turkish invasion finally rescinded at the gates
of Vienna (1683), alia turca appeared in a more benign form.That is,Turkish
amusements (such as games), products (such as candies), and institutions
(such as coffeehouses) were imitated and popularized. In the musical realm,
Turkish musical instruments and musical effects provided a visual and sonic
dimension to the fashionable use of Turkish themes in operas, ballets, and

plays. During this period,Turkish music received special attention in oriental
ist writings because of its close affinity to ancient Greek theory and because
of its perceived exotic character, thereby providing a rational explanation

for a seemingly irrational aesthetic.6That is, the enlightened interrogation of
cultural difference replaced a genuine fear of religious distinction, a trans

formation that permitted a fictive play with Turkish style without necessitat
ing a realistic display of Turkish strength. In this matter, alia turca played a
significant role.
The efflorescence of alia turca during the eighteenth century has been
the subject of considerable scholarly interest. For instance, Chew (1937)
traces the origins of this phenomenon to the incursion of Muslim invad
ers into the heartland of Europe and to the excursion of Christian armies
to outposts of Islam. For him, alia turca provided an imaginary space for
demarcating the cultural boundaries of Christendom, a process of self-redefi
nition occurring in the wake of Turkish military expansion. Musicologists,

too, have examined the significance of the alia turca phenomenon in the
works of eighteenth-century composers.7 In particular, Hunter (1998) has
exhaustively cataloged the various manifestations of the alia turca trope in
Western art music, showing the ways in which Turkish style is sonically (by
analyzing musical materials) and visually (by studying opera performances)
inscribed. Locke (1997:172) also examines the significance of Turkish style
for contemporary composers, demonstrating how alia turca provided an
exotic platform for critiquing "endotic" or domestic issues.8 In this respect,
many musicologists emphasize the ambivalent attitude towards Turks in

opera, on the one hand showing the enlightened attributes and on the other
high?ghting the brutal characteristics of the main male protagonists. Further,
Bellman (1993) shows how the boundaries of alia turca became unstable
during the nineteenth century, evolving into new musical styles on a local
level (under the influence of romantic nostalgia) and developing into new ex
pressive forms on a global level (under the influence of colonial expansion).9
Following Said's influential critique of the matter (see Said 1978,1993), Bell
man provides a richly textured interpretation of this phenomenon critiquing
orientalist scholarship with a significant bias towards gender studies. While
these studies of alia turca provide a unique insight into the construction of
difference in Western music, they say very little about the musical exchanges
that occurred between the East and the West during the period.
The Turkish contribution to the development of Western music during
the eighteenth century is not well documented.This lacuna may represent in
part the deficiency of relevant scholarly source materials on the subject and
in part the lack of scholarly interest among musicologists to investigate the
Turkish perspective. While visual representations (in the form of engravings

and paintings) and written accounts (in the form of personal memoirs and
official reports) of Turkish musical practice during the period do exist, they
tell us very little about the Turkish involvement in the production of alia turca,
with one significant exception: the Janissary Band (mehterhane). When the
Ottoman forces retreated from Vienna in 1683, the defeat left an indelible
musical impression upon contemporary observers.As Paul Rycaut recounts:

"On the 26th [July, 1683] the Turks designing to make a furious assault, caused
all their warlike musick, such as flutes, cymbals and brass trumpets, which
gave a shrill sound, to play with their highest notes, to encourage their soldiers
to make the onset" (Bellman 1993:31).10 According to Bellman (1993:31), this
continuous musical assault was met with an equivalent response from musi
cians within the walls, an unlikely musical contest marking a larger conflict
between two cultures (Muslim vs. Christian) and two military powers (Ot
toman vs. Habsburg). He continues:
This ancien r?gime battle-of-the-bands seems to have established the reputation
for the noise-making, jangling inferiority of.. .Turkish music in the European
mind once and for all.The Turkish musicians making a racket (to the European
mind at least) outside the walls of Vienna proved to be an unforgettable image
of besieged Christendom, and it lingered in the popular imagination for more
than a century. (Bellman 1993:31)
This defeat of the East in the West had important musical repercussions.
First, the Janissary band was no longer perceived to be a threat and became
a central component of the exotic paraphernalia associated with alia turca.
Second, the Janissary band became a symbol of Ottoman diplomacy, being
presented (along with a full retinue of non-Western musicians) as a gift to
Austrian (1697), Polish (1673), Prussian (1697), and Russian (1725) digni
taries. For contemporary observers, Janissary music was synonymous with
Turkish music, appearing in real and imaginary forms at carnival celebra
tions, mystery plays, and public amusements. As J?ger (1996a, 1996b) notes,
the Janissary band provided a model for the development of new military
ensembles, conflating an older distinction between polyphonic (European)
and monophonie (Ottoman) types through the addition of Turkish musical
instruments andTurkish musical symbols to Feldmusik ensembles.11 In West
ern art music, the music of the Janissary band was imitated in a stereotypical
fashion. As Hunter (1998) argues, the Janissary sound signified a Turkish

space, an illusory space delineated musically by unison textures, unsophis
ticated harmonies, simple meters, repeated notes, and triadic intervals. For
her, Mozart perfected this sonic articulation of Turkishness in his opera,
The Abduction from the Seraglio. Framing his narrative with the musical
signs of difference, he was able to portray a contemporary ambivalence
towards Ottoman culture by setting the rational qualities of a Turkish hero

(Selim) against the irrational traits of a Turkish villain (Osmin).That such an
overt expression of ambivalence should exist in Vienna during the 1780s
is noteworthy. Perhaps indicating a new realization of Turkish impotency
in the aftermath of the Russo-Turkish War (1768-74) (Hunter 1998:58), the
contemporary fascination with alia turca manifests both the artistic role of
difference and the dramatic potential of ambivalence.
The Western contribution to the development of Turkish music is per
haps easier to trace. As part of a gradual rapprochement with the West,
the Ottoman state dispatched embassies to a number of Western powers,
including Austria (1665), Sweden (1732-33), and France (1720-21) to form
strategic alliances. In this matter, the memoirs (published in 1737) of the
Turkish ambassador to Paris,Yirmisekiz ?elebi Mehmet Efendi, are extremely
instructive. Recounting his experience of Western customs, the emissary
was particularly influenced by the architecture (especially the palaces) and
by the spectacles that he saw (especially theatrical events and festivities).
Like other Ottoman emissaries, he attended operatic productions noting
the differences between Ottoman and French theatrical styles especially
in terms of dramatic production, audience response, and musical setting.
Like other emissaries too, he evidently liked what he saw and heard (G?cek
1987:47-48).12 While this encounter had important consequences for the
Westernization of Turkish art (especially in the realms of architecture and
portraiture) and Turkish science (especially in the realms of military hard
ware and printing technology), it may also have had an influence upon the
Westernization of Turkish musical practice. In this respect, Western musical
tastes may have affected the formal structure of Turkish art music and court
poetry, showing a new preference for four-bar phrases and four-line strophes,
respectively.13 The new classicism that emerged during the latter part of the
eighteenth century was accompanied by a new taste for Western musical

instruments and Western musical theories made possible by the growing
commercial exchange between Europe and Turkey and by the participation
of European musical theorists in Ottoman musical practice.14 Such linkages
helped to reorient Turkish court music away from its Eastern roots towards
a new Western style, a new style called alafranga. As And argues:
It is ironic that, just when Western writers were coming to appreciate what the
East had to offer, the Ottoman Empire was beginning to disintegrate and the Turks
were looking westwards for the knowledge and the skills [that made] Western
progress [possible] in the modern world. (And 1991:91)
In the Time of Alafranga: Identifying Cultural Difference

Alafranga is a polys?mie term denoting Western difference.15 It is derived
(in part) from the Turkish spelling (frente) of a Persian word (frang?) mean

ing "European" or "Europeanized" (Steingass 1930:923). Employed earlier
in Byzantium to signify ethnic difference (between Frank and Greek), it was
adopted by Muslims to connote religious difference (between Christian and

Muslim). During the nineteenth century, the term was increasingly used
by Turks to mark a cultural distinction between European convention and
Ottoman custom, a distinction that reflected the growing secularization of
Ottoman government and the gradual Westernization of Ottoman society.
This semantic transformation from the sacred to the secular had an important
social dimension.That is, alafranga became synonymous with the progressive
aspirations of a new Ottoman elite, a bureaucratic elite that was eager to

adopt European cultural practices for the revitalization of Ottoman political
rule and for the improvement of Ottoman social life. In the former, Western
ideas were employed to reform the outmoded military apparatus through

science and to transform the inadequate administrative system through educa
tion. In the latter,Western culture was imitated in an attempt at recuperating
Ottoman prestige sorely tarnished by the external threat of colonial expan

sion and by the internal danger of national secession. By appropriating the
symbolic capital of the industrializing world, Ottoman legislators hoped to
stem the decline of Ottoman political influence and to assuage the ignominy
attached to its contemporary status as "the sick man of Europe." For the
most part, alafranga did not initially transform a conservative religious group.
Rather, it was adopted with enthusiasm by an emergent bourgeoisie who

were willing to embrace the possibility of Ottoman citizenship (after 1839)
and who were anxious to abandon the debilitating strictures of religious
segregation envisaged by the millet system.16 In this way, alafranga presented
a new conception of difference, a conception founded upon cultural prefer

ence rather than religious persuasion.
Alafranga differed from alaturka.That is, alafranga was defined in its oppo
sition to alaturka, setting Western fashion against Eastern style and supersed
ing alaturka as a mark of social and sonic distinction. In this respect, military
music provided a sound barometer of social change, articulating sonically

the variable pace of constitutional reform during the nineteenth century. Fol
lowing the abolition of the Janissaries in 1826, a Western-style imperial band
(Muztkay-t Hiim?y?n) replaced an older Eastern-style Janissary ensemble

(mehterhane). Under the auspices of a new music academy (founded in
1831),17 Western bandmasters and Western musicians were brought from
Italy to direct and to trainTurkish band members in the art ofWestern music.
While the transfer of musicians from one musical medium to another was
not entirely smooth,18 the musical reform generated an enduring love for
military music (especially marches), an interest that was initiated by Italian
composers and imitated by Turkish musicians, some of whom were members
of the imperial household.19 This contemporary fascination with alafranga

music was further advanced during theTanzimat period (1839-78), an era
of legislative and administrative reforms that ostensibly promoted the mod
ernization of Ottoman government and centralization of the Ottoman State.
Western music was actively promoted in newly Westernized Ottoman palaces.
Performances featured prominent Western musicians (such as Franz Liszt in

1847 and Henri Vieuxtemps in 1848), showing the significance of Istanbul
as a new destination in the European concert circuit. Western opera was
also performed in the NaumTiyatrosu (in 1847) and later in the Dolmabah?e
Tiyatrosu (in 1856), in imitation of the modernist aspirations of Ismail, the
Egyptian Khedive (ruled 1863-79), for competitive reasons. As the palace
memoirs of Leyla Hamm (1850-1936) show,20 Western music was taught to,
composed for, and performed by members of the imperial household. Simply
put, Western music reflected the social prestige of alafranga and reinforced
the marginal status of alaturka.
Alaturka deferred to alafranga. Defined by default, alaturka was a term

increasingly employed by Turks to mark musical as well as cultural difference.
In this respect, the promotion of Western music (alafranga) had important

implications for native musical styles (alaturka). While the degree of West
ernization depended upon the musical tastes of different Sultans,21 alaturka
musicians began to adopt the musical methods of alafranga.Turkish compo
sitions were harmonized and modified to suit the Western sensibilities of a
growing alafranga coterie. Turkish music, which was originally transmitted
by oral means, was at first transcribed to train palace musicians (using ham
par sum notasi) and subsequently disseminated (using Western notation) to
satisfy a growing bourgeois demand for salon music.22 As part of this process,
Turkish music was published in musical methods to assist in the wholesale

transmission of alaturka and, in some instances, to finance the emergence
of private music schools (after 1908). Even Turkish music theorists had to
address the dominant thrust of contemporary Western tastes by including
references in their publications to Western musical practice (especially in
court circles)23 and by invoking Western theoretical principles (especially
in mystic circles).24 With the advent of new technologies (especially sound
recording) and new venues (especially musical theaters), Western musical
values influenced Turkish musical performance, especially in the realms of
musical techniques, performance styles, and ensemble practice. This West
ernization of Turkish music was not universally lauded. As contemporary
accounts show, alaturka musicians condemned virulently the artistic preju
dices and the musical innovations of their alafranga counterparts.25 Yet even
in the most conservative quarters, alafranga subtly transformed alaturka by
promoting a musical dialogue between two very different expressive styles

that was as artistically productive as it was verbally contentious. Clearly, this
discourse of difference showed aesthetic promise.

Alafranga also deferred to alaturka. While the musical exponents of alatur
ka had to address the dominant thrust of Western style, alafranga music itself
was also subtly transformed through contact.As Faroqhi argues (2000:271),

it was aTurkish version of European enlightened thought uniquely suited to
the immediate requirements of musical reform, influencing the ways in which
Western didactic methods and Western aesthetic values were appropriated.

In this respect, a number of hybrid styles developed during the period dem
onstrating the creative possibilities of cultural difference in the musical realm.
That alafranga as a concept should become the focus of discursive interest

after 1850 is itself worthy of comment.26 Possibly indicating a contemporary
concern at the withdrawal of imperial sponsorship for Western music,27 the
term appears in contemporary music publications, sometimes even showing

a deferential attitude towards alaturka. As the popular historian Ahmet Mid
hat (1844-1912) in retrospect notes (1896:2): "Alafranga! ... why have we

continued to repeat this word for the past thirty or forty years, using every
opportunity to use alafranga whenever relevant? While some may consider

alafranga to be a negative development,how can even they avoid using it?"28
Demonstrating the semantic difference between fashion (?tk) and good man
ners (alafranga), he traces the origin of the term in verbal discourse and the
significance of the term for cultural improvement. While Ahmet Midhat's

primary intention is educational (hoping to inculcate European values), his
book discloses a wider contemporary interest in Western expressive forms.
This interest, made possible by the expansion of print culture after 1850,
heralded the emergence of new literary figures, writers who adapted French
literary genres to satire the social pretensions of alafranga impersonators.That
is, alafranga provided both an aural means for identifying cultural difference
in music and an oral space for critiquing cultural distinction in literature. In
this way, it helped to make sense of change during an extended period of

political uncertainty.
In the Time of Atat?rk: Identifying Historical Difference

Alaturka is a term of diff?rance.That is, its definition is provisional, being
dependent upon (or deferring to) a tradition of differences recurring with

some regularity in musical discourse. Defined by default, alaturka deferred
to alafranga, being subject to the changing definitions of Western taste in
Turkey. In this respect, European customs were successively appropriated
in different ways by a military elite (after 1829), a bureaucratic elite (after
1839), and a religious elite (after 1878), showing the significance, broadly
speaking, of Western technology, Western education, and Western art for the
development of new social classes. Mirroring this process, alaturka changed

during the nineteenth century from a sacred (that is, religious) to a secular

(that is, cultural) category of distinction and evolved, during the twentieth
century, from a spatial (that is, geographical) into a temporal (that is, histori
cal) concept of difference. Significantly, this modernist transformation had a
precedent in Turkish musical sources.As Popescu-Judetz argues (2002:134),

old (at?k) and new (cedid) categories are found in Ottoman treatises signify
ing important moments of transition in music history. After 1826, this tempo
ral distinction was institutionalized in the Turkish section of the Muzikay-i

Hum?y?n where a traditional (fasl-i at?k) and a modern ensemble (fasl-i
cedid) were recognized. In this matter, alafranga music acted as a catalyst. In
the former, Western scientific methods were used to modernize traditional
music theory. In the latter, Western musical principles were employed to

transform contemporary music practice. In both instances, alafranga helped
to define the character of alaturka, resulting in the fossilization of traditional
theory and promoting the hybridization of traditional practice. During the

final years of Ottoman rule (1908-23), alafranga music came to represent the
revolutionary ideals of Turkish progress, rendering alaturka music obsolete

in the face of national modernity and anachronistic in the wake of imperial
decline.
Alafranga became a term of temporal difference. When the Turkish Re

public was founded under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atat?rk (1881
1938), supporters of the newly-established state venerated alafranga music
for its modernist credentials and denigrated alaturka music for its traditional
attributes. In their view, the division of musical discourse into alafranga and
alaturka classes had important implications for the re-conceptualization of

Turkish history where the past was now re-classified into modern (that is,
Republican) and pre-modern (that is, Ottoman) musical epochs. From their
perspective, alaturka was considered to be outdated in musical conception,
antiquated in performance style, outmoded in aesthetic content, and, above
all, unsuited to the modern sensibilities of Turkish nationalism. Alafranga,
on the other hand, provided an alternative to Ottoman musical practice and
promoted the reform of Turkish music according to European principles.The
distinction between alafranga and alaturka reflected a wider interrogation

of Turkish cultural practices at the hands of these Republican ideologues.
Following Ziya G?kalp (1876-1924), they sought to reform expressive cul
ture by promoting national styles with a pristine Turkish pedigree and by
censuring those forms not consistent with a contemporary notion of ethnic
purity. By invoking G?kalp's conception of Turkish history (G?kalp 1923),
they attempted to show how Turkish art had evolved from an imperial into
a national style. In particular, Gazimihal (1924) adapted G?kalp's original
model for a specialist musical audience, showing how alaturka and alafranga
belonged to two distinctive stages of Turkish evolution, representing an Ot
toman and a Republican moment respectively. Like G?kalp, he argued that

Turkish folk music rather than Turkish art music should form the basis of a
new national music (mill? musiki), a uniquely Turkish style that was harmo
nized to suit the modernist sensibilities of Republican taste. In this way, he
advocated the reform of alaturka according to the principles of alafranga.
Alaturka mirrored alafranga.That is, alaturka music was modified to re

flect the implementation of Westernizing reforms in Turkey during the early
Republican era (1923-38). Hoping to forge a break with Ottoman history,

Atat?rk instituted a set of religious (1924-25), sartorial (1925), economic
(1926), and linguistic (1928) reforms that served to implement a radical
transformation of Turkish culture and to nurture a discursive interest in revo
lutionary change. In the musical realm,Ataturk's reforms not only envisaged
the relocation of alafranga through the promotion of Western musical prac
tices but also involved the reconstitution of alaturka though the adoption of
Western musical terms. Whereas alaturka had historically accommodated a

broad spectrum of musical styles, it was now re-classified by music special
ists into native (that is, folk) and non-native (that is, art) musical categories.
Styles of technical expertise, performance manner, and artistic rendition were
scrutinized for their national validity and, by implication, for their cultural
value. Musical styles that had remained poorly defined in Ottoman discourse
were now precisely defined in Republican sources to show regional identity,
historical provenance, and social function.Technical terms (covering musi
cal practice) and stylistic categories (covering musical interpretation) were
formulated to replace the practical metaphors of the past and to provide a
lexical edge to the polemical discourse concerning authentic modes of Turk
ish performance. Where musical styles did not conform to the acceptable
norms of alafranga practice, they were ridiculed in the media and scrutinized
for their subversive interest. In this matter, the very character of alaturka was
debated.Where Republican supporters (headed byAdnan Saygun, 1907-91)

sought to extricate Turkish folk music from alaturka by way of harmoniza
tion, a reactionary group of Turkish musicologists (headed by RaufYekta Bey,
1871-1935) hoped to reinstate Turkish art music through the alafrangization
of alaturka. By adopting the scientific tools of Western musicology, this latter
group wished to reform alaturka with classical distinction.

Alaturka deferred to alafranga in different ways. On the one hand, some
musicologists influenced by orthodox opinion invoked alafranga to reform
Turkish folk music. In this matter, they invented a new glossary of musical
terms under the auspices of the Turkish Language Society (Turk DU Kurumu)
and published these serially after 1932 in the Society's Research Diction
ary (Tarama S?zl?g?). While these terms reflect a contemporary interest
in a purified Turkish lexicon freed from the influence of Arabic and Persian
sources, they also demonstrate a modernist urge to adopt Western musi
cal terminology in the realm of alaturka. On the other hand, musicologists

representative of a reactionary perspective adopted a similar strategy in the
context of Turkish art music. By invoking alafranga, they sought to address
the national ideals espoused by Republican orthodoxy and to formulate

their own heterodox solution to the development of a national aesthetic.
In this respect, they codified and standardized alaturka music following a
Western classical precedent. Ending a long tradition of oral transmission,
they fixed alaturka music in Western notation and published their results in
a series of authoritative editions in association with the Committee for the

Examination and Standardization of Turkish Music (Turk Musikisi Tedkik ve
TesbitHeyeti). In both instances, orthodox and heterodox opinion was able
to validate distinctive artistic positions by employing alafranga terminology
or techniques in the context of alaturka music.The debate concerning the
appropriate constitution of a national style was not confined exclusively to
the realm of music theory. In music education, too, the terms alaturka and
alafranga were manipulated to mark musical difference in the foundation of
a new music academy (1926). As I show elsewhere (O'Connell 2000), the

terms were not only employed to designate different musical departments,
but they were also used to dispense dissimilar musical budgets. In this way,
alaturka deferred to alafranga both in terms of musical prestige and monetary
preference.
In the Time of Arabesk: Identifying Gender Difference

By 1990, alaturka had become a term of indifference. As Ugur argues,
alaturka is not generally considered a term of discursive interest, having
largely lost its semantic significance and differential dissonance. After the
death of Atat?rk (in 1938), a new style with a different identity appeared in
Turkish musical discourse .That is, Arab style (arabesk) replaced Turkish style
(alaturka) as a subject worthy of critical attention. While the influence of

an Arab aesthetic upon Turkish music is complex,29 performance practices
historically associated with Ottoman music are now equated with the non
Turkish attributes of an alien Arab tradition. In this respect, arabesk no longer
adheres to the historical conception of difference promulgated by Republican
commentators. Rather, it reiterates an older geographical distinction (between
Europe and Asia) and restores an earlier orientalist dualism (between West
and East) to envisage a new Turkish-Arab polarity. That arabesk should be
come the subject of public scrutiny is interesting. Representing an apparent
Turkish fascination with Arab music, arabesk is in fact a sonic articulation of
social change brought about by the migration of Anatolian workers to the

hitherto protected spaces of the Turkish bourgeoisie, the cities. For some,
arabesk represents a play with alterity, a veritable colonization of Turkish air
space with the sound waves of Arab occupation. For others, arabesk provides

a sound link with tradition by melding rural with urban styles to produce a
hybrid form reminiscent of alaturka. While both perspectives emphasize the
significance of sound media in this process, they fail to recognize an endur

ing attribute of the alaturka phenomenon already apparent in Western opera.
That is, they do not show the "endotic" significance of the exotic (see Locke
1997:172), where arabesk provides a platform for defining Turkish identity
and for debating Turkish difference. In this sense, the polemical debate sur
rounding arabesk revisits an older Western desire of looking East to imagine
how the West could be.
Arabesk is not so different from alaturka. Like alaturka, the term arabesk is
the product of a modernizing mindset that seeks to define aberrant practices

with taxonomic efficiency. Like alaturka, arabesk emerges from a constellation
of stylistic differences that were delineated during the early Republican era
and deliberated upon during the ensuing period. Like alaturka too, arabesk
is subject to differentiation.That is, arabesk discloses two distinctive stylistic
traits representing divergent musical systems (folk and art) and disparate
cultural influences (rural and urban). In this respect, arabesk is equated with
a gender-specific set of stereotypes that serve to provide visible proof of
audible deviance. On the one hand, an effeminate stereotype (the donme)
is associated with an urban branch of arabesk, showing an aural link with
Ottoman music (especially alaturka) and an oral link with Ottoman drama
(especially tul?af)?0 In this category, the transsexual singer B?lent Ersoy is
iconic, performing a conventional repertoire of urban styles in an unconven
tional manner. On the other hand, a masculine stereotype (the maganda) is
representative of a rural strand in arabesk, showing a sonic affiliation with
Arab musical styles and a social affiliation with Anatolian lifestyles.31 In this
class, the Kurdish vocalist Ibrahim Tathses is representative, being himself a
caricature of the swarthy machismo and the profligate mannerism associated
with the type. In both instances, visible images serve to higfilight the audible
signs of musical difference. In both instances too, performance styles are
equated with gender stereotypes, stereotypes that differ significantly from
a modern conception of male identity. By contrast, the classical performer
M?nir Nurettin Sel?uk (1899-1981) conformed to the aesthetic norms of
Republican taste. Performing Turkish music in a Westernized manner and
presenting Turkish music in a Westernized style, he provided a sound ideal of
Turkish masculinity. As a role model for a national style, he was the veritable
new man for a new age.32
Arabesk also defers to alaturka in different ways.That is, arabesk defers
to alaturka in its derivation and differs from alaturka in its definition. In the
former instance, arabesk disguises the persistence of Ottoman musical influ
ence inTurkish popular culture, indicating a subtle deference to tradition that
is perceptible in music but imperceptible in language. In the latter instance,

arabesk by definition indicates the presence of an Arab influence in Turk
ish music.That arabesk should embody such differences is no coincidence.
As the discussion above shows, two disparate musical styles (folk and art)
encompassing two cultural domains (rural and urban) are accommodated
within one stylistic category. Further, two divergent stereotypes provide a
tangible expression of two very different conceptions of time and space.
On the one hand, the effeminate stereotype (the d?nme) demonstrates the
temporal durability of tradition showing continuities in practice beyond
the constraints of verbalized control. On the other hand, the macho stereo
type (the maganda) discloses the spatial character of modernity, a modern
condition that serves to reify the symbolic capital of the center and to alien
ate the cultural practices of the periphery through spectacular displays of

non-conformity.This ambivalent attitude towards gender has a precedent. In
alaturka music, non-Muslims rather than non-Turks occupy a similar ambigu
ous position. In this respect, sexual ambivalence and social alienation were
symbolized by the effeminate dancer (the tavsan) and the macho renegade
(the mangas) respectively. In contrast to alaturka, arabesk conflates historical
difference and geographical variation into one all encompassing conception

of alterity.Where alaturka had historically operated in a dialectical relationship
with alafranga, arabesk assumes the dominant position of Western culture in
musical discourse. In doing so, it subsumes divergent musical practices under
one stylistic label, a discursive strategy that enables aesthetic discrimination
and facilitates commercial commodification.
Arabesk is a term of diff?rance.As such, arabesk defers to a tradition of
differences emerging from and dissolving into Turkish musical discourse. Like
alaturka, arabesk embodies within itself traces of the past and predisposes
styles of the future to traces of itself. Like alaturka also, the definition of
arabesk is not fixed. Rather, it is an ambivalent term composed of multiple
meanings that are manipulated by distinctive groups for strategic effect.
That is, the definition of arabesk is negotiable, being subject to changes in
society and fluctuations in fashion.This polyphonic texturing of alterity is not
only found in verbal discourse. In practice, too, arabesk is hard to define. In
this respect, the semantic fixity of stereotype ascription is subverted during
performance. On the one hand, B?lent Ersoy frames her effeminate image
with the masculine sound of antiquity by adopting a religious style (hafiz
?slub?) favored by conservative cognoscenti. On the other hand, ibrahim
Tathses frames his macho image with the seemingly effete sounds of Arab
extraction by adopting the melismatic contours of a seemingly non-Turkish
sound ideal. While the gender ascription of vocal style is itself relative, the
sonic presentation of a given stereotype serves to reverse its visible identity,
thereby calling into question the absolute character and fixed definition of
stylistic classes. Only in one instance does sound seem to reinforce stereo

type. In this instance, M?nir Nurettin Sel?uk matches his Westernized vocal
style with his Westernized public image.While he represents for many of the
bourgeoisie the classical ideal of Turkish masculinity, his stylistic innovations
are not universally lauded, being informed by an etic rather than an emic
value system. In contrast to Bulent Ersoy and IbrahimTathses, Munir Nurettin
Sel?uk is an invention of modernity, perhaps unnatural both to Turkish eyes
and ears. By deferring to an established vocabulary of differences, arabesk

performers are able to construct their own version of tradition freed from the
normative constraints of modern control and free to imagine new identities
in a post-modern world.33
Alaturka Revisited: Different Identities

Is alaturka a term still worthy of deference? In recent years, alaturka has
appeared once again (albeit hesitantly) in Turkish expressive culture, indicat
ing the power of nostalgia to reinvigorate the embers of discourse. No longer
a silent partner in the polemical debate surrounding arabesk, alaturka reiter
ates a new manifestation of an old phenomenon in Turkish verbal discourse,
recurring with some regularity every seventy years and corresponding to a
cycle of aesthetic preference covering approximately two generations.That
Ugur should call for an end to alaturka is itself almost predictable. Respond
ing to a resurgence of popular interest in the early Republican era, he is
explicitly critical of a contemporary veneration of traditional values symbol
ized by alaturka. He is also implicitly critical of an Islamic party (elected in
1994) that attempted to disguise its conservative agenda under the mantle
of cultural conservation. For him, alaturka has been commodified to serve
the commercial interests and the political goals of this group. Perhaps, Ugur
is also influenced by the success of the recording entitled Alaturka 95. As
Stokes shows (2000), the performer (B?lent Ersoy) provides a subversive
reading of the well-known sarki "Aziz istanbul," a song which was originally
performed by M?nir Nurettin Sel?uk with classical distinction but which is
now presented by the transsexual artist in a religious setting. While Stokes
is primarily interested here in a musical reading of space, he demonstrates
how intertextual references in vocal performance are able to transform an
imaginary ideal into a seemingly controversial text.34 However, he does not
show clearly how this text defers to a multitude of similar texts, traces from
the past which are configured from a limited set of spatial and temporal dif
ferences and which are manipulated playfully by practitioners to construct
divergent expressions of alterity.35 By subverting singular meanings attached
to such texts, performers are able to provide multiple readings of Turkish
identity, thereby making personal agency possible in an impersonal post
structuralist world.

In this paper, I have examined the construction of difference in musical
discourse.Tracing the origins of this discourse to the expression of religious

difference (between Islam and Christianity) in Western sources, I have demon
strated the ways in which alaturka was appropriated by Turks to show cultural
(between East and West), historical (between Ottoman and Republican) and
gender (between male and female) distinctions. While the character of the
alaturka debate seems to be quite dissimilar at various moments in Turkish
history, the structure of this discourse is in fact very similar.That is, the vari
ous manifestations of alaturka in Turkish musical discourse seem to follow

an established pattern where a dominant group attempts to control through
language the aesthetic preferences of a given age. From this perspective,
alaturka truly has ended, confirming Ugur's belief in a modern utopia that is
clearly defined to suit the contemporary needs of economic progress. From

another perspective, alaturka survives in non-verbal modes of expression. As
Bellman (1993) shows, alia turcaisms appear over and over again in differ
ent artistic media, the same phenomenon with a different label. In Turkey,
alaturka also resurfaces in new expressive forms, the same phenomenon but
with a different name. Recently, this name was arabesk. However, the fracture
between verbal discontinuity and non-verbal continuity is not the end of

the matter.As I have shown, some artists playfully experiment with different
expressive forms (both verbal and non-verbal), a play with prescriptions that
at once confirms and subverts the significance of alaturka in Turkish music.
In this matter, they are popular precisely because they allow audiences to
imagine new identities both freed from (through practical participation) yet
tied to (through linguistic reflection) the delimiting strictures of modernist
discourse. Put another way, they are able to identify difference in the time
of alaturka and they are able to perform different identities to the tune of
alaturka.
Acknowledgments
This paper was originally presented in the Music Department, Brown University (April 2003).
A section of the article was given at the annual conference of the British Forum of Ethnomu
sicology, Bangor (May 2003). Research in Istanbul was supported by grants from the Turkish
Government, the German Government, UCLA, and the Fulbright Commission. I would like to
thank Engin Akark, William Beeman, and Rose Subotnik for allowing me to participate in relevant
seminars at Brown University in the areas of Ottoman historiography, linguistic anthropology,
performance theory, and opera criticism. In addition, I would like to acknowledge Ralph Locke
for his significant advice on and extensive knowledge of musical exoticism. In Turkey, I would
like to express my gratitude to Ayhan Aktar, Mur?t Bardak?i, Cem Behar, Fikret Bertug, Meral
Sel?uk,Timur Sel?uk,Al?eddin Yava??a, and to my friends and colleagues not mentioned here.
Finally, I would to thank Marilyn Booth, Elliott Colla, Sheila Hogg, Susan McClary, Ali Jihad Racy,
Dwight Reynolds, Timothy Rice, Hugo Str?tbaum, and Rob Walser. I would also like to thank
Peter Manuel and the anonymous reader of this article for their help and advice.
Notes
1.The Turkish language has undergone a profound transformation since 1928, a transfor
mation that has seen the language adopt a Latin (rather than an Arabic) alphabet and that has
posed some problems of consistency in academic sources. For the purposes of transliteration, I
have followed Shaw's example (1976-77, II:ix) by using the modern standard Turkish spelling
system for all technical terms and place names.Where relevant, these spellings can be found in
the New Redhouse Turkish-English Dictionary (Redhouse 1999). I have used ?ztuna (1990) as
a source reference for the names of Turkish artists and Turkish institutions where appropriate.
Since there is a significant problem concerning the representation of Turkish names and dates
during the twentieth century, I have adopted the current convention of supplying Turkish
second names where relevant and of rendering Ottoman dates into their European equivalent
for all events and citations. In addition, I have referenced Wehr (1979), Kazdhan (1991), and
Steingass (1930) for the transliteration of Arabic, Greek, and Persian terms, respectively.
2.Derrida (1967a, 1967b) invented the term diff?rance to deconstruct the singular char
acter of difference (the structuralist position, for which see Saussure 1916) and to interrogate
the absolute status of Being (the hermeneutic position, for which see Heidegger 1927) .Alluding
to the dual meanings attached to the French word diff?rence (Eng.,"difference,""deference"),
Derrida coined the neologism diff?rance to show the temporal and spatial character of semantic
construction based upon a critical examination of language. His choice of the letter "a" in the
spelling of diff?rance is significant. First, the letter is used by him to examine the relationship
between speech and writing: that is, where the distinction between diff?rence and diff?rance
can only be understood in its written and not in its spoken form. Second, the choice of the letter
"a" alludes indirectly to the French present participle of diff?rence, diff?rant (?ng., "differing,"
"deferring") where the word diff?rance actively (yet also passively) suspends itself between
the two meanings of diff?rence. By developing a theory of diff?rance, Derrida is able to decon
struct the unique constitution of self and by extension, to demystify the unassailable integrity
of meaning. See O'Connell (2004) for an in-depth critique of Derrida and for a post-structuralist
reading of expressive culture in Badakhshan.
3. Necdet Ugur (b. 1923) is a civil servant who has worked in public administration since
1944. Between 1968 and 1980, he was variously appointed as a deputy in the National Assembly
and as a director in the Ministry of Education. In this respect, his book articulates the nationalist
perspective and conservative vision of a respected public figure. His ideas are ensured a wide
circulation at a time when outdated Republican principles face the onslaught of contemporary
democratic politics. It is not surprising then that his other publication with Yapi Kredi (1995)
revisits the political legacy of the national hero, ismet in?n? (1884-1973).
4. See O'Connell (1998) for a postmodern examination of the relationship between style
and stereotype in Turkish musical discourse. In particular, look at my interpretation of an
article concerning alaturka performance and alcohol consumption entitled: "Is it Possible to
Perform Turkish Music without Drink?" Published in the popular journal ResimliAy (1924),
the article was written by the music specialist, Musa S?reyya Bey (1884-1932), an expert who
wanted to challenge an established stereotype in the contemporary popular imagination, the
drunken alaturkaci.As director of the Turkish Musical Conservatory (DariU'elbari), he wished
to promote alaturka in a public debate concerning the development and the institutionalization
of a national music in Turkey during the early Republican period (1923-38).
5. Alia turca appears in a number of different forms in European expressive culture.That is,
it is also found in Italian (as "alia turchesca"), in French (as "? la turque") and in English (as "in a
Turkish style") contemporary definitions of difference. In this respect, the alia turca phenomenon
must be understood in a wider cultural context where Muslims of North African (especially
Moors) and West Asian (especially Saracens) origin were also the subjects of caricature.As Chew
notes (1937:452-68), alia turca had its counterpart in alia moresca ("in a Moorish manner"),
being portrayed in public displays of alterity. See Said (1979,1993) for a fuller discussion of
orientalism in general and turquerie in particular. For other critiques of orientalism in Western

art read Clifford (1988), Lewis (1996), Locke (1993, 1997, 2000), MacKenzie (1995), Nochlin
(1989), and Obelkevich 1977.
6. During the eighteenth century, foreign commentators provided instructive surveys
of music in Ottoman territories. These writers include de Blainville (1767), Fonton (1751),
Guys ([1771] 1783), La Borde (1780), Niebuhr (1767,1792), Russell (1794), Sulzer (1781-82),
Toderini (1789), deTott (1973) and Villoteau (1823,1826). While these accounts vary in their
musicological interest, they show the significance of a contemporary enlightened interest in
the musical traditions of the Eastern Mediterranean. See Aksoy (1994) for a good overview of
non-Turkish representations of Ottoman music. For an English version of these accounts, refer
to Robert Martin's various submissions to the Turkish Music Quarterly. See Behar (1987b) for
an excellent introduction to Fonton's manuscript. See Scott Marcus (1989) for an informative
survey of travel writer accounts in Arab music. See also Feldman (1996), Gr?ve (1995), J?ger
(1996a, 1996b), Shiloah (1993), and Wright (1988) for useful analyses of relevant texts.
7. For studies of the alia turca phenomenon in Western composition, read Betzwieser
(1993), Hunter (1998), Meyer (1974), Obelkevich (1977), Signell (1988), and Whaples (1958).
In particular, note the significance of Turkish musical instruments (such as the k?s) and Turkish
instrumental effects (such as the Janissary stop) for contemporary ensemble practice. Note,
also, the orchestral significance of the batterie turque and the compositional importance of
alia marcia for signifying a Turkish sound and a Turkish style, respectively.
8. Bellman (1993:25-45) is principally interested here in the evolution of the style hongrois
in Western art music. In this respect, he shows how different styles emerged from alia turca
during the nineteenth century, including a gypsy style that was believed to possess Turkish
attributes and a genre of Hungarian music (called t?r?k?s) that was believed to be of Turkish
origin. For him, the style hongrois is an alia turca-ism that has been transformed from a Turkish
into a Hungarian style, by way of Roma music.
9. For differing interpretations of exoticism in Western music, refer to the following: Betz
wieser and Stegemann (1994), Kramer (1995), Locke (1998), McClary (1992), and Scott (1998).
I would like to thank Ralph Locke for drawing my attention to some of these citations.
lO.This quotation is replicated in a number of other sources.
11 J?ger (1996a, 1996b) provides a useful history of Turkish music ensembles in German
speaking lands during the eighteenth century. Noting the existence of a musical precedent at
carnivals, weddings, and mystery plays prior to this period, he demonstrates the development
of an actual and an imaginary Turkish sound ideal. On the one hand, he documents the various
appropriations of Janissary ensembles by European rulers at the beginning of the century, noting
the possibility of contemporary audiences being familiar with an authentic Janissary sound. On
the other hand, he traces the development of a new but imaginary Turkish sound in contempo
rary military ensembles, showing how polyphonic settings transformed monophonie textures
and how European instruments replaced Ottoman prototypes. In this respect, he examines a
differentiation of "Turkish music" into two sub-categories, a Westernized "Turkish" ensemble
(using only Western instruments) and a turkified "Turkish" ensemble (using both Western and
non-Western instruments) .While there is some difficulty in differentiating "Janissary" from "Turk
ish" music in historic sources, he argues that the terms had become synonymous by 1800. Like
Farmer (1912), J?ger also mentions the presence of oriental paraphernalia in contemporary
Feldmusik ensembles, including "Jingling Johnnies" (Turkish, pefg?w),"Blakamoors," and Turkish
costumes. Significantly, he demonstrates (for the most part) the non-Turkish ethnicity of relevant
performing musicians.
12. G?cek (1987) presents a comprehensive overview ofYirmisekiz ?elebi Mehmed Efen
di's embassy to France (1720-2 l).While she mentions the impact of this embassy upon French
expressive culture (especially in connection with the emergence of turquerie), she details its
impact upon Ottoman society (especially in the commercial and technological spheres) and
upon Ottoman culture (especially in the architectural and artistic realms). In particular, she
mentions the ambassador's experience of French opera. In this respect, she recounts in detail
the Ottoman response to and the French reception of a foreign dignitary encountering a new

expressive medium. Other ambassadors also provide accounts of their different experiences
of Western music. They include Yirmisekiz ?elebizade Mehmed Efendi's visit to Stockholm
(1732-33), Ahmed Resm?'s trip to Berlin (1764-65), and Ebubekir Ratip Efendi's travels to Vi
enna (1791-92), embassies that document (generally speaking) a positive Ottoman impression
of Western music. See And (1999) and Faroqhi (2000) for different accounts of relevant travel
memoirs.
13.The influence of Ottoman embassies upon Ottoman music is hard to gauge. While
diplomatic exchange profoundly affected other expressive media and contemporary fashions
during the eighteenth century, the direct influence of Western musical tastes must have been
minimal (see Marcus 1989:23), being confined (in Turkey at least) to the exchange of musical
instruments (as gifts) and musical performers (as novelties). As Faroqhi (2000:240) notes, the
ambassadorial encounters released new creative energies that impinged upon the visible realm
and that may have impinged upon the aural domain. As Feldman (1996:498-503) argues, the
eighteenth century witnessed a rapid change in Ottoman musical practice probably brought
about by internal social factors. However, he also describes the consolidation of a new Ottoman
style, a style that witnessed a fundamental re-orientation away from its Persian roots towards a
newTurkish aesthetic around 1780.As Popescu-Judetz and Sirh show (2000:11), this style mani
fests an amalgamation of multiple cultural influences (originating both in Asia and in Europe).
While source evidence for such a change is scant, the presence of Western instruments,Western
musicians,Western dancers, and Western teachers is apparent inTurkey during the reign of Selim
III (1789-1807). Given the increasing participation of non-Muslims in Turkish musical circles
during the period, it is not improbable that Western musical tastes had indirectly influenced
Turkish musical styles by the end of the eighteenth century.
14. A number of non-Turkish music theorists have participated in Ottoman musical practice.
These include the Polish theorist Ali Ufl? (c. 1650) and the Moldavian scholar Cantemir (c. 1700).
As Feldman argues, Cantemir's influence upon subsequent theoretical developments is debated

(1996:32). In addition, Greek and Armenian theorists have not only made important contribu
tions to the development of Ottoman music theory, but they have also probably operated as
conduits for a Western influence in Turkish musical discourse. In this respect, Popescu-Judetz and
Sirh's comparative study (2000) of two Greek theorists (Panayiotes Chalathzoglou and Kyrillos
Marmarinos) provides a valuable insight into musical change during the eighteenth century
and an important overview of the exchange of musical ideas between Byzantine and Ottoman
musics.That is, the development of a new notational system was already apparent in the eigh
teenth century, a development that paved the way for the modernizing reforms of Chrysanthos
of Madhytos (in 1821) and Hamparsum Limonciyan (after 1813) in the Greek and the Armenian
circles respectively. See Behar (1990), El?in (1976), and Wright (1988) for studies of Ali Ufk?.
See Feldman (1996), Popescu-Judetz (1999), and Wright (1992,2000) for studies of Cantemir.
In addition to the citations mentioned above, see Bardak?i (1993), Brandi (1989), Plemmenos
(1997,2001), and Zannos (1990,1994) for studies of the relationship between Byzantine and
Ottoman musical traditions.
15.Alafranga is a neologism invented to represent Western style around 1850. While the
term is most likely derived from the word frenk (a generic designation for foreigner), it was
probably coined to represent a new style in opposition to alaturka.As Tuglaci notes (1986:88),
it was one of a number of Italian terms to enter the musical lexicon during theTanzimat period,
being specifically invented to show its difference from alaturka. It is noteworthy that the term
frenk itself has undergone a number of transformations. Originating in Latin (franci) to signify
Franks, it was adopted by the Byzantines (Greek,frankoi) variously to represent the Normans
(in Italy) and the French. During the thirteenth century, the category was employed in a dispar
aging manner, indicating an individual who hoped for ecclesiastical union with Western Chris
tendom (Kazhdan 1991). In Persian, the term farang means a Frank, an Italian, or a Christian.
Frang? mdfrangist?n denote the people and the country of the Franks respectively (Steingass
1930:922-23). In Arabic, the term has a similar meaning where al-ifranj signifies the Europeans
(Wehr 1979:832), a form that may have influenced the Ottoman spelling of alafranga. In this

respect, a variant of alafranga also exists in Arabie music. As Racy notes (1982,1983), the term
was sometimes used in its Arab form to represent Western music (m?stq? ifranjiyyah) in its
opposition to Eastern styles (m?stq? sharqiyyah).The other terms used for Western style are
m?stq? gharbiyyah and m?stq? ajnabiyyah.

l6.The millet system represented the institutionalization of religious difference in the Ot
toman Empire (Quataert 2000:175). During theTanzimat era, the millet system was reformed to
reflect the growing secularization and centralization of Ottoman reforms (see Shaw 1976-77,
II: 123-28). While the term millet traditionally had a religious meaning, it has come to signify
a secular (that is, a national) rather than a sacred (that is, a religious) identity. This semantic
transformation has been the source of considerable confusion in the historic record (see Lewis
1968:335-36).
17.The foundation of the Muzikay-i Hum?y?n was somewhat haphazard. Referring vari
ously to the imperial band, the imperial orchestra, and the imperial conservatory (?ztuna 1990,
11:86), the Muzikay-i Hum?y?n in fact continued a long-established tradition of musical sponsor
ship by Ottoman rulers in a specially-designated section of a larger instructional framework (see
Feldman 1996:56).After the abolition of the Janissaries (1826), the foundation of a new imperial
band necessitated instruction in Western music. After some prevarication, Guiseppe Donizetti
(1788-1856) was employed (1828-56) to command the imperial band and to oversee music
education. At first, Western musical ensembles (a Western band and a Western orchestra) were
institutionalized (1831). Later, a Turkish section was included, accommodating both secular
(fasti heyeti) and religious (muezzin) practices. According to Nihat Ergin (1999:16-18), the
former was subsequently sub-divided into a traditional (fasl-i at?k) and a modern (fasl-i cedid)
section. Significantly, no dates are provided, although Turkish art musicians are well represented
at court during the reign of Mahmut II (1808-39).As Osman Ergin shows (1939-43:369-74),
the music school went through a number of changes during the period, altering its location,
transforming its structure, and modifying its membership. See also Aksoy (1985,1989,1994)
for a historical overview of musical reforms during the period. SeeTuglaci (1986) for a compi
lation of relevant historical documents. See Hizir ilyas Aga (1857) for a documentary account
of contemporary musical activities. See Gazimihal (1939,1955) for some pertinent historical
anecdotes. See Sanal (1964) for a history of the mehterh?ne. See Ergun (1942-43) for a study
of contemporary religious performers and composers. As ?ztuna argues (1990,11:86), an au
thoritative account of this important institution has not as yet been completed.
18.MacFarlane (1829) and Slade (1854) present eyewitness accounts of the first perfor
mances of the new band. Both descriptions are disparaging. MacFarlane heard only Turkish
music played on Turkish instruments, indicating that by 1828 no music reform had taken place.
However a year later, Slade mentions the instrumental composition of the new band, a band that
included both Western and non-Western musical instruments reminiscent of "Turkish" bands in
Europe described by Sulzer (1781-82) and documented by J?ger (1996a, 1996b). Meyer (1974)
also makes this interesting connection, showing the appropriation of a Western conception of
Turkish music by Turkish musicians during the nineteenth century.
19. See Kosal (1999) for music composed by members of the imperial household.These
compositions include works byAbd?laziz (1830-1876) and Murad V (1840-1904), the latter
composing 488 pieces for piano (collected into three volumes) while under house arrest in
?tragan Sarayt. See also Nihat Ergin (1999) for an examination of the musical life in the court
of Abd?lhamid II (1842-1918) at Yildiz Sarayi.
20. Leyla "Saz" Hamm provides a unique insight into the life and times of the imperial
household during the 1860s.As an accomplished musician, she gives a detailed picture of mu
sical activities at court emphasizing the place of female musicians and dancers in this context
(see Saz 2000:33-45). Originally published in the newspaper Vakit (1920-21) and subsequently
published in French (1925), her memoirs have appeared in a number of editions in modern
Turkish including Saz (2000). Other relevant sources from this period include, Hizir ilyas Aga
(1857), Osmanoglu (1994), Saz (1996),Tayy?rz?de Mehmed At? Bey (1876) and Tel (1947).
21 .AsAksoy shows (1985,1989), alafranga was promoted during the reigns of Abd?lmecid

(1839-61) and Abd?lhamid II (1876-1909). On the other hand, alaturka benefited from the
patronage of both Mahmud II (1808-39) andAbd?laziz (1861-1876).
22. Hamparsum notasi is an Armenian system of musical notation devised by Hamparsum
Limonciyan around 1813. Donizetti used hamparsum notasi to train palace musicians in Western
music theory, indicating perhaps the widespread use of this notation system at court when
he arrived (in 1828). See J?ger 1996c for a catalog of relevant musical manuscripts in Istanbul
?niversitesi. See Seidel (1973-74) for an explanatory study of relevant musical conventions.
Refer to J?ger (1996d) and Wright (1988) for studies of musical change during the nineteenth
century using this system.
23. Due to the gradual demise of courtly patronage for alaturka,Turkish musicians adapted
Western musical techniques to their advantage.That is, they began to transcribe alaturka (as in
the case of Necib Pasa, 1815-83) and to harmonize Turkish melodies to suit popular taste (as
in the case of Notaci Haci Emin Efendi, 1845-1907). In particular, Ha?im Bey (1815-68) em
ployed solfige in his representation of Turkish modal paths (seyirs). In his song-text anthology
(1864:22), he describes makam Rast in the following manner: "The first note of this makam
is called the note 'sol' like its equivalent in alafranga music." See O'Connell (1996:251-84) for
a critical examination of contemporary manuscript collections, solf?ge methods and song-text
anthologies. See also Behar (1987a, 1993) for references to didactic sources.
24. During the nineteenth century, traditional music scholarship blended with Western
musicology to form a unified and modernist approach to Turkish modal theory. In this respect,
a number of Mevlevi dervishes played a critical role.These included Cel?leddin Efendi (1848
1907),At?ullah Dede (1842-1910), and H?seyin Fahreddin Dede (1854-1911), dervishes who
were the respective heads of the Mevlevi houses at Yenikapi, Galata and Bahariye in Istanbul.
These Sufi masters encouraged Mevlevi affiliates to use contemporary musicological methods
in measuring music intervals (using sonometeric techniques) and in developing music theories
(using contemporary acoustic principles). In addition, they fostered a renaissance in musical
composition and musical research, perhaps as a result of the restrictions placed upon alaturka
at court during the reign of Abd?lhamid II (1876-1909). See ?nal (1955,1958) for an authorita
tive overview.
25. A confined group of alaturka experts remained resolutely opposed to the new taste for
alafranga. In particular, the famous composer ismail Dede Efendi (1778-1846) was critical of
the Westernizing developments at court. Since Abd?lmecid (1839-61) did not favor alaturka,
the composer left court to undertake a pilgrimage to Mecca (1845) with his pupil Dell?lz?de
ismail Dede Efendi (1797-1869). He died there the following year during a cholera outbreak.
See Aksoy (1985), Ergun (1942-43), inal (1958:133-70),Tel (1947), and Yekta Bey (1925).
26.The 1850's witnessed a dramatic increase in the number of foreigners in Istanbul.
As Shaw argues (1976-77,11:138-41), the Crimean War (1853-56) resulted in an increase
in the number of foreign experts resident in the capital, mostly refugees from Hungary and
Poland. Since British and French soldiers were also billeted in Istanbul during the period, the
local population became rapidly familiar with European manners.This presence facilitated the
penetration of Western cultural values (and hence reform) often at the expense of traditional
ways. Further, the rise of print culture during the period encouraged a popular interest in
fashion where competing Western and Eastern styles were the subjects of discursive interest.
That such a discourse permeated contemporary music publications is perhaps inevitable.
27. During the reign of Abd?laziz (1861-76), alafranga rather than alaturka suffered the
consequences of imperial disinterest. While the imperial band was expanded for ceremonial
effect (and for foreign travel), native musical practices were once again promoted at court. In
this respect, alafranga (rather than alaturka) was the focus of public scrutiny possibly reflecting
a popular concern for the rapid pace of Westernization and for the growing decay of Ottoman
political influence.
28.Ahmet Midhat (1844-1912) was a prolific author and influential journalist.As Shaw
notes (1976-77, II:252-53),Ahmet Midhat wished to educate his audience in history, science,
philosophy, and religion by employing a popular literary style. In this respect, his publication
200 Ethnomusicology Spring/Summer 2005

entitled European Etiquette or Alafranga must be understood as an attempt by the author to
inculcate proper (rather than affected) European manners among his readership. Originally fea
tured in the newspaper Ikdam, the publication was subsequently consolidated into book form
and published in Istanbul (1896). As ?ztuna shows (1990,1:36), a number of his plays were set
to music. He also wrote a "History of Music" (see Midhat 1885) for the newspaper Terc?man-t
Hakikat, a publication that he founded in 1878.
29. See O'Connell (1996,1998,2002) for historical analyses of Arab style in Turkish musi
cal discourse. For a representative coverage of arabesk see G?ng?r (1990), ?zbek (1991), and
Stokes (1992).
30.The term d?nme (lit.,"rotation") originally referred to non-Muslims (particularly Jews)

who converted to Islam. The term is now used to describe transsexuals. According to Aktun?
(2001:94), the word is also used in cinematography where pornographic movies are copiedAs in
other languages/Turkish has a rich lexicon to describe effeminate malesApart from the obvious
neologisms like efemine (Eng., effeminate) and escinsel (Eng., homosexual), other disparaging
terms indicating homosexual inclination (of a passive type) are also employed including ibne,
kovan, labunya, and top.

31.The term maganda signifies a hirsute male of questionable moral standing. On the one
hand, the term could be a variant of mangiz, a slang word for money On the other hand, it
could be a corruption of the Greek word mangas, a renegade who operated outside the law
during Ottoman times.The latter exists in Greek popular culture, being historically associated
with rebetika (see Petropoulos 2000). Both definitions are consistent with the popular definition
of maganda. In contrast to the d?nme, the maganda may be associated with a male homosexual
type (the macho male), a type that is also signified by the derogatory words ahtapot, kulampara,
and lago.
32. M?nir Nurettin Sel?uk in fact recapitulates an ongoing discourse about a masculine
ideal. In this respect, he emulates the renaissance qualities associated with a "true gentleman
of Istanbul" and a "tanzimat man." He may even defer to an older ethic of gentlemanly conduct
associated with male chivalry and good taste in Ottoman sources (see O'Connell 1996). That
is, this new man may not be so new after all.
33.As I show elsewhere (see O'Connell 1996), I critique a Foucauldian reading of ste
reotype formation (see Foucault 1969,1976) and allude instead to Derrida's (1987) concept
of subversion outlined in The Post Card. In this respect, Derrida shows how the context of
presentation (in this instance philosophical discourse presented on the back of a post card)
serves to subvert the absolute character of philosophical truth. Translated to Turkey, vocal
style framing vocal performance serves to subvert singular meanings attached to gender labels
and to their visible manifestation as stereotypes. This allows for different readings of gender
identity, an ambivalent position that enables individual agency in a post-structuralist abyss.
34.1 feel that Stokes' reading of "Aziz istanbul" is rather simplistic. He fails to mention a
constellation of similar discursive texts surrounding this recording, texts that exist synchronically
(among contemporary vocal performers) and diachronically (among historic sound recordings).
While he is correct to emphasize the religious quality of B?lent Ersoy's style (see O'Connell
1996), he perhaps should have mentioned in greater detail the religious references implicit in
the musical setting (especially the mode used and tessitura employed). The dramatic change
of musical register at the end of the original recording may also have a wider mystical signifi
cance, a factor that is also implicit in the text. It is noteworthy that a number of young religious
performers today use "Aziz Istanbul" as a vocal exercise. Perhaps Stokes ought also to have
mentioned the controversy surrounding M?nir Nurettin Sel?uk's original performance, especially
the artist's articulation and interpretation of Yayha Kemal Beyath's text, both of which are still
debated. Since B?lent Ersoy has great respect for the vocal achievements of M?nir Nurettin
Sel?uk, it is not surprising that she was perturbed by public criticism following the release of
this recording. See Stokes (1999) for another reference to this piece. Listen also to Alaturka
2000 (Istanbul: S M?zik) by B?lent Ersoy for a distinctive interpretation of other semi-classical
numbers.

35.The discussion of alterity has a long-established history in post-colonial theory. Princi
pally associated with Edward Said (see Said 1979,1993), alterity is discussed as a wholly other,
an "other" that is fixed in its relationship to the self and that is mapped differentially as an
oriental reading of western identity. However, Derrida is more circumspect about the signifi
cance of alterity for philosophical discourse. Particularly critical of the conception of alterity in
hermeneutic philosophy and post-colonial theory, he emphasizes the interdependence of the
self and its other. In this respect, he shows the impossibility of interrogating identity from the
standpoint of alterity arguing that the self-reflexive subject is always subject to the language
of diff?rance. Taussig (1993) occupies an intermediary position between a post-colonial and

post-structuralist reading of alterity. Emphasizing the polyvalent attributes of alterity, he shows
how traces of the past are reproduced in the present through performance. By highlighting
non-verbal expressive forms,Taussig offers a welcome diversion from the logocentric focus of
traditional philosophical discourse.
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In the Time of Alaturka: Identifying Difference in Musical Discourse

Author(s): John Morgan O'Connell

Vol. 49, No. 2

In the Time of Alaturka: Identifying

Difference in Musical Discourse

In the Time of Alaturka: Identifying Difference

The article shows howTurkish commentators manipulated the term alaturka,

which represented the penetration of European terminology in Turkish mu

/ 78 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

Turkish popular imagination.1

(alia turca) that was originally employed by Europeans to express a Christian

Ottoman values and European sensibilities. In particular, an influential group

was tied to alafranga in a symbiotic but unequal relationship, a relationship

it was employed by nationalist ideologues to define the musical practices of

However, this redefinition disguises the recapitulation of the alaturka phe

it persists today as an unspoken vestige in musical practice.

The End of Alaturka: Identifying Turkish Difference

of the Turkish metropolis was the subject of critical commentary covering

O'Connell'.In the Time of Alaturka 179

past is debatable (being dependent upon different conceptions of history),

where rapid globalization and increasing industrialization are characteristic

Alaturka has a special meaning for us Turks. It is a lifestyle, it is a certain type

of behavior. We employ alaturka to describe a leisurely disposition, a haphaz

conduct. (Ugur 1996:11-12)

180 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

it set about a fundamental cleavage in Turkish cultural discourse, a debate

Ugur (1996:12) alludes to the significance of alaturka in the present.

a tradition of differences in a modern way. That is, he invokes a repetitive

is able to participate with commercial success and technological expertise

ish historians to critique the national ideals of Republican modernity and

O'Connell: In the Time of Alaturka 181

radio schedules, in concert programs, and in film advertisements. Further,

discuss the origin of the alaturka polemic in non-Turkish sources.

In the Time of Alia Turca: Identifying Religious Difference

coined by the Italians during the seventeenth century with reference to

expression in epic dramas, carnival festivities, and jousting tournaments.

religious conversion but implicitly signified treacherous betrayal or tragic

182 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

of its perceived exotic character, thereby providing a rational explanation

cultural difference replaced a genuine fear of religious distinction, a trans

nition occurring in the wake of Turkish military expansion. Musicologists,

many musicologists emphasize the ambivalent attitude towards Turks in

O'Connell: In the Time of Alaturka 183

musical impression upon contemporary observers.As Paul Rycaut recounts:

than a century. (Bellman 1993:31)

fashion. As Hunter (1998) argues, the Janissary sound signified a Turkish

184 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

eighteenth century was accompanied by a new taste for Western musical

In the Time of Alafranga: Identifying Cultural Difference

O'Connell: In the Time of Alaturka 185

adopted by Muslims to connote religious difference (between Christian and

aspirations of a new Ottoman elite, a bureaucratic elite that was eager to

ideas were employed to reform the outmoded military apparatus through

Ottoman prestige sorely tarnished by the external threat of colonial expan

Rather, it was adopted with enthusiasm by an emergent bourgeoisie who

a new conception of difference, a conception founded upon cultural prefer

music provided a sound barometer of social change, articulating sonically

(Muztkay-t Hiim?y?n) replaced an older Eastern-style Janissary ensemble

of the imperial household.19 This contemporary fascination with alafranga

186 Ethnomusicology, Spring/Summer 2005

Performances featured prominent Western musicians (such as Franz Liszt in

Alaturka deferred to alafranga. Defined by default, alaturka was a term

In this respect, the promotion of Western music (alafranga) had important