The Falcons of Antep

All the dimensions of the sociological transformation that Turkey has undergone in recent years, which forced its democracy onto its track but is also a result of its democratisation, have not been sufficiently set out. Of course, it is not possible to follow or understand these dimensions only from Ankara and Istanbul. The urbanisation and capital movements that began in the eighties in Anatolian cities, and accelerated markedly especially from the mid-nineties, have since the 2000s produced the picture of an entirely different Turkey.

At the weekend, on account of an event, I was in Gaziantep and Şanlıurfa. Both of our provinces are among the cities called the pearls of the Southeast. They are cities that still reflect the traces of the ancient civilisation most distinctly in the city's culture and tradition. Although both are among the largest cities of the Southeast, they are the cities least affected, and of course in different ways, by the tensions that have continued in the region for thirty years.

Şanlıurfa, for example, does not at all spoil its multicultural structure, which it transmits from generation to generation and which absorbs the Arab-Turkish-Kurdish togetherness in the most productive way; in fact it keeps ready in its possession a style of socialisation suited to the new era as a model. Şanlıurfa, upon which Abraham, the symbol of the religion of tawhid, has eternally stamped his mark, always presents to anyone who might stray into racist ignorance only a scene of deep admonition, like a verse. This scene, like a verse, keeps step in the most aesthetic way with the rhythm of the silent revolution Turkey has been living through in recent years.

Gaziantep, with its zeal and its trait of organising itself against occupation and taking the initiative, shows on every occasion how much it deserves the title of Gazi that it received in the years of the War of Independence. When you become acquainted with the depths of the city, you feel that spirit. Among the prominent people from politics and the business world whom I was able to meet and talk to, I witness a shared sensitivity about the city, the quality of the city, the common interest and the future, to a degree I have not encountered anywhere else. This sensitivity causes political or commercial competition to take on a structure that works on the basis of gentlemanliness instead of surrendering to a chaos that works without rules. That is why in Gaziantep both the political environment and the commercial environment are, to an astonishing degree, at peace with themselves. Its contribution to Turkey's total industrial production increases with each passing day. All 5 of its organised industrial zones are full, and there is no room left in the sixth, which is under construction. This production has enabled it to make a different use of the share it has received from the forced migration from the Southeast.

The migration that came to Gaziantep, unlike what it did elsewhere, never threatened Gaziantep's internal peace; on the contrary, all of them have been employed in the industrial facilities or the service sector here.

Gaziantep is also a city whose population has grown rapidly because of these migrations. But this population has been put to use in the city's development in as harmonious a way as possible, and rapid migration has not affected the harmonious development of the city. Moreover, its not being able to be sown did not simply depend on the dynamic of economic development itself; in this regard the initiatives, consultations and measures created by the city's leading notables displayed a very rare example of standing up for the city in the face of such a problem confronting it. To be frank, in Gaziantep, the civil initiative put forward by the city's owners in place of security measures against terror, and the fact that it succeeded, constitute an extremely original example in terms of urban sociology.

Meanwhile, one should not think that those who came to the city from the east have been condemned to marginal-informal jobs. On the contrary, among them many investors who provide employment have emerged in a short time. For example, there are some fifty thousand people from Siirt alone, and the number of those at the level of taxpayers employing workers is 6,300.

If we are to continue with the sociology of Gaziantep, it is possible to speak here of a kind of economic development miracle, but the most important limit of this miracle is that almost all the companies are family businesses. This places a natural limit before the development of the enterprises in terms of opportunities for institutionalisation. In front of this limit there is a structure that has reached certain capital accumulations but is forced, in terms of opportunity cost, to waste this accumulation in a way. One of the businessmen I spoke with, who is aware of this problem and is himself experiencing it in his own business, says that the government could see this potential and make very good use of it. This potential can be regarded as a very important opportunity and can pave the way for the formation of multi-partner structures for large investments.

Gaziantep draws attention as much for civil mutual aid and solidarity movements as for industrial production. While hundreds of thousands of loaves of bread a day and other necessities are delivered as aid to Syria alone, the dimensions of the facilities provided to refugees coming from Syria are also beyond every kind of praise.

Gaziantep's coming to its present state, and in particular its becoming one of the AK Parti's vote depots today when it used to be described as a fortress of the left, has its own history and dynamics. But let us leave this much to the deeper analyses of sociologists who will have to study the city as a thesis subject. But let us also give a tip: to conceptualise these family entrepreneurs of Antep, instead of resorting to metaphors such as the tiger or the lion, I recommend that they think of the Şahin (falcon), the symbol that the people of Antep call Şahan.