Conclusion and Citations

Each of the historical layers that make up Istiklal’s symbolism as a lieu de mémoire are born out of intention: the construction of embassies and a metro stop, the renaming, destruction, and restoration of the street, as well as the most recent terrorist attack. The incidents are starkly contrasting in quality, with some incidents of careful preservation and celebration, and others of utter and irreversible destruction. After the pogrom, Pera “lost its original human fabric with the gradual departure of its non-Muslim inhabitants, specifically the Greeks” (Sasanlar, iii). Even drastic loss can create and contribute to the richness of a lieu de mémoire.

Finally, we see what Nora means when he says “in just a few years, then, the materialisation of memory has been tremendously dilated, multiplied, decentralised, democratised” (Nora, 14). While some of the incidents in this exhibit were initiated and shaped solely by the state, the people – locals in the 1955 riot and foreign terrorists in the 2016 bombing – also leave their mark on the site. But why should the people’s acts need to come in the form of explosive rebellion? What would allow citizens to take ownership over the cultural identity of a space, and the creation of its historic narrative, in a more constructive way?

Istiklal Avenue, despite its nationalist name, has served as a western icon within Istanbul, and we see through these turns of embracing and rejecting the space, how Turkey’s acceptance of western culture has evolved over time.

A video of buskers, the duo called Light in Babylon, performing traditional music on Istiklal Avenue (something which reminds me how east and west constantly interact in Istanbul, even in westernised or tourist/expat-heavy neighbourhoods.)