Home to The Mausoleum, one of seven wonders of the ancient world, Bodrum has long been recognised as a celebrity hotspot. Nowadays, jet-setting actresses including Nicole Kidman, Uma Thurman and Liz Hurley holiday in Bodrum, but more than two thousand years ago, Cleopatra, Queen of Ancient Egypt, was also known to reside in this charming Mediterranean town.
To this day, the elegant celebrity tradition thrives in Bodrum, with infamous individuals such as Beyonce Knowles selecting it as their ideal holiday destination or investing in the unique property found on the peninsula.
With an average of 300 days of sunshine a year, Bodrum is renowned for its exquisite range of wildlife and natural setting of pine trees and olive groves. However, it also offers an extensive range of leisure activities including water sports, golf and yachting. Hollywood actor Tom Hanks who sojourned in Bodrumfor a few days whilst cruising the Turkish coastline on board a magnificent yacht has enjoyed the latter of these pastimes.
Gloriously tranquil fishing villages frame the peninsula, offering the serenity of an unspoiled coastline and an authentic taste of Turkey’s rich cultural history.
Nonetheless, fashionable celebrities have long appreciated the distinguished nightlife presented in Bodrum centre. Whilst living in Bodrum, singer Norah Jones worked at the animated nightclub Hadigari and Dustin Hoffman held an exclusive party at Europe’s largest open-air disco, Halikarnas. The unique nightclub was also home to the very first international beauty pageant, Miss Globe, in 1988.
Many of the celebrity figures that have delighted in visiting Bodrum have stayed at extravagant hotels or have rented or invested in luxury villas within the region. Hannah Gelbart of Cumberland Propertiesrecommends selecting an established and guaranteed property developer who offers top-quality, high-end construction with no expense spared.
So if you can picture yourself lounging by a spectacular infinity pool, shopping in an authentic Turkish market or a luxury boutique and sipping cocktails under the stars at a magnificent bar on the main street of Bodrum, you can see why Turkey has been tipped as a top tourist destination for 2010. Do not delay in experiencing it for yourself.
John Gimlette heads for Cappadocia, in central Turkey, to explore a magical subterranean world more than 2,000 years old.
Travel is sometimes a curse, and often a blessing. Just occasionally, it’s like a trip through a children’s story. Earlier this year, we found ourselves in a fable. For a week, we lived next to a little girl who shared her cave with 300 sheep. Over the centuries, her ancestors had hollowed out a pinnacle of rock. It now had so many windows it looked like a multi-storey shortbread. Through the main door I could see a donkey, and then – higher up – stovepipes, light bulbs and a Turkish flag. Here was a warren for human beings.
Our own cave was more elegant but with much the same view. It looked out over a huge swathe of Cappadocia; a swirling landscape the colour of oatmeal and peaches; gorges full of pinnacles like clusters of spears; the distant cone of Mount Erciyes, lightly powdered in snow.
This being a fable, the pinnacles were known as “fairy chimneys” and every morning the sky was full of hot-air balloons (it’s a long-established tradition for visitors to drift over Cappadocia in a balloon).
While the shepherdess enjoyed all this with her sheep, we watched in Ottoman splendour. Our cave had been transformed. Only Lucy (our five-year old) had a bed in the rock. The rest of our suite erupted grandly out of the ground. One room was like a parliament for sultans. There were alcoves, silks, a magnificent bed, seating for 20 viziers and an acre of Persian rugs. We even had a giant sultan’s bathtub, with a view across the steppes.
Ours wasn’t the only palace inserted in the cliff. A tiny underground street led away to another 30 rooms. They were all unforgettable. Some had sumptuous, subterranean drawing rooms and private wine cellars.
Others had collections of Roman jewellery or Ottoman costumes just waiting to be worn. Once, all this had been part of a village, deep in the rock. For years, it had lain abandoned after an outbreak of peace. Then, in 2001, it was revived by a remarkable man, Ömer Tosun, who named it The Museum Hotel. But all this burrowing needs some explaining. Like so much that is beautiful, it began with extraordinary violence. At first, the brutality was geological. About 70 million years ago, Mount Erciyes exploded, along with two other volcanoes. They smothered the land first in shortbread (properly known as tuff) and then a wafer-thin coating of basalt. Soon, the basalt began to crack, and the elements got in, and tore the tuff away.
Eventually all that was left were small blobs of basalt atop columns of tapering tuff. These are the so-called “fairy chimneys” and are up to 100ft tall. Actually, geologists have a much better word for them that’s both sinister and comic: hoodoos.
Unfortunately, the next wave of violence was predictably human. With so much ash and sediment, Cappadocia had become famously productive. At a time when the world’s population was 23 million, it had a city of 17,000 souls. Naturally, it was soon attracting unsavoury visitors. Among them were Hittites, Tabals, Persians, Romans (in AD17), Byzantines, Seljuks and Ottomans. The history of Cappadocia has been a skull-cracking tale.
In time, people learnt that the only way to survive was by ducking into holes. In this, the tuff was perfect. It could be cut like cake, and a good team of miners could scoop out a mansion in less than a week. The rock would then harden on exposure to air, and keep its shape for hundreds of years. “And that,” said Ömer Tosun, “is the great miracle of Cappadocia.”
Across the region there are now around 30 underground cities and over a thousand rock-hewn churches. Mustafa, one of Ömer’s guides, took us to Kaymakli, which was started in the second century as a retreat from the Romans. It was like a city designed by little boys. There were rat runs, escape chutes, bottomless shafts, secret larders and massive millstone doors that rolled into place. We spent what seemed like hours clambering around its streets. “And yet,” said Mustafa, “you’ve only seen 20 per cent of it. This city extends eight stories underground…”
Mustafa liked these cities, but preferred the churches.
It was almost as though he had a hotline to the ninth century and could make the frescoes leap into life. During our tours he found us high-rise churches (Soganli), churches hacked into cliffs (Ihlara Canyon) and a mountain honeycombed with chapels (Goreme).
But my favourite was Kolonlu. To get there, we had to walk an hour down Rose Valley, scramble into a gorge, jump two streams, slink along a ledge and then pass through a crack into the rock. Inside was a beautiful clean-cut nave filled with silvery light. I half-expected to see masons, packing up their tools, but they’d long since left, over a thousand years before.
Our last few days, we headed for Mount Erciyes, the source of all the tuff. It stood astride a city called Kayseri. Extending eight storeys up – instead of eight down – modern life clearly isn’t quite as cosy as the old, but there was an intriguing museum. Among its curios, we found some ceramic “torpedoes” (for burying Romans), a dried-up child, and a magnificent sarcophagus carved with the labours of Hercules. Ancient Cappadocia, it seems, was a tough place to live but a terribly elegant place in which to die.
Earlier this year we asked you to vote for the things youreally like about travel, from business hotels to destination spas, airlines to specialist tour operators. From your responses we compiled the Readers’ Travel Awards 2010, the best the travel world has to offer…
DESTINATIONS: COUNTRIES
Türkiye** (Turkey) is your favourite holiday destination. When asked to score it (with ‘a percentage of satisfaction’ figure on 10 criteria), you gave it top marks for range of accommodation (86.48) and that increasingly important component of any holiday: value for money(87.20). This year, Italy (88.93) and Spain (85.73) got your votes for food/restaurants, closely followed by South Africa (84.48), while you reckon Australia has the best climate (96.56) and India provides the warmest welcome (you gave it a heartfelt 94.44 forpeople/hospitality). Egypt scored highest for culture (88.03) and clean-living New Zealand came out on top for environmental friendliness (86.12).
1. (Türkiye)*** Turkey 94.81*
2. Egypt 94.22
3. Australia 93.25
4. Italy 92.36
5. New Zealand 91.37
6. Spain 90.39
7. India 89.65
8. USA 88.94
9. South Africa 88.58
10. France 87.00
11. Mexico 86.29
12. Canada 84.90
13. Brazil 84.20
14. Chile 83.53
15. Sri Lanka 82.51
16. China 81.33
17. Greece 80.70
18. Portugal 79.87
19. Thailand 78.92
20. Morocco 77.49
*What are these numbers? They are an index of satisfaction with travel facilities and services, scored out of a maximum of 100. In our Readers’ Travel Awards questionnaire, you were asked to choose the best that the travel world has to offer – everything from hotels and spas to airlines and airports. You were then asked to rate your choices according to various criteria, such as service and value for money. From your responses, we calculated the average mark on each criterion, and used this to provide the overall satisfaction percentage figure that you see in the league tables and The World’s Top 25.
Kurds in northern Iraq are reaching out to a group of people with whom they believe share a historic ethnic connection, and many common enemies. You guessed it, it’s us.
It’s early morning in Irbil, capital of Iraqi Kurdista (sic.). A few men gather around a small kiosk where dozens of newspapers and magazines in Arabic and Kurdish are carefully arranged on a piece of cloth on the ground.
The camera zooms in and concentrates on one of the men, who holds a glossy magazine with a large Magen David on the cover. This is not another illustration to an article about Israeli policies in Gaza and West Bank. The title is “Israel-Kurd” and the whole edition is dedicated to relations between the Kurdish nation and the State of Israel.
The anchor of American-funded Al- Hurra TV, who reads the introduction to the Israel-Kurd item, seems just as astonished as the customers at the newspaper stand in Irbil – it’s not every day that you see Israel’s name mentioned in a context other than the Arab-Israeli conflict.
In Iraq, publishing a magazine with the word Israel on its cover is a risky business, considering the generally negative attitude toward Israel and those in the Arab world who seek rapprochement with the Jewish state.
“During last year we were often intimidated and threatened by different elements who didn’t like what we do, but this year it seems that people are more understanding and interested in our product,” says Hawar Bazian, managing editor of the magazine. Bazian was born in Iran and fled the country with his family, finding refuge in Irbil. Although he has lived there for many years and completed his BA in English literature at Irbil University, he doesn’t have Iraqi citizenship and is not able to further pursue his education.
Bazian believes there are many similarities between Kurds and Israelisand says that his publication, which was established two years ago, is meant to build a cultural bridge between the two nations.
Obviously, not everybody in Irbil and beyond agrees with him and Mawlood Afand, the editor-in-chief and founder of the magazine. In addition to threats and intimidation, the Web site of the magazine has twice been hacked by Turkish users and the authorities have not given it a work permit.
“There are two approaches to Israel in Iraqi Kurdistan,” Bazian says. “There are those who are very interested in relations with Israel and eager to learn more about it, and those who hold quite a negative view of this country, being influenced by radical Islamic ideology.
They think that Israel is the enemy,” Bazian told The Jerusalem Post.
SINCE THE Israel-Kurd association hasn’t received a permit from the Iraqi authorities, there are no offices, computers or faxes – the association exists on-line and publishes a monthly magazine in Kurdish. The Web site is also available in Arabic, English and Turkish.
Some articles are also available in Hebrew. The banner, “Let’s know Israel as itself,” promises an insight into Israeli society and history.
The Web site mainly offers news from the Kurdish world and Israel and op-eds and analysis on different developments in the Middle East by Kurdish, Israeli and American contributors.
“We are the result of the historical suffering done by the Persian, Arab and Turkish nations against the Kurds, who lost their national, religious and cultural rights. These enemies try to destroy our future as well as our past. The Israel-Kurd Institute tries to mention a historical relationship between Kurds and Jews and review this relation without any religious or ideological concerns.
So we have a clear message which talks about an honorable and great historic stage of the Kurdish nation that belongs to Kurdish-Jewish relations. We will use this for the Kurds’ sake and for the sake of their national question,” the “About Us” sections of the on-line magazine states.
“Not only do Israel and the Kurds have mutual interests and historical ties between their peoples, but also many common enemies,” says Bazian and starts to count: Iran, Syria, Turkey, the Arabs – almost everyone in the Middle East. That is exactly why, he believes, the Kurds and the Jews, two ancient nations who endured enormous suffering and were stripped time and again of their natural rights, should join forces and cooperate.
Some Kurdish contributors go even further and suggest that Jews should come to Kurdistan and help build the national Kurdish home.“Kurdistan will be the second home for Jews after Israel,” believes Hamma Mirwaisi, author of Return of the Medes. “Kurds always have treated Jews as equal partners in Kurdistan since the Median Empire. It may be because Abraham, the forefather of the Jewish nation, was an Indo-European Kurd (!) instead of an African Semite like the Jewish scholars have been claiming after Moses came back from Egypt. Or a large segment of the Kurdish populations are the descendants of the lost 10 Jewish tribes after they were exiled by the Assyrian Empire to Kurdistan. Whatever the reasons, the Kurds are treating Jews equally, even if Islamic clerics are encouraging them otherwise.
“Kurdistan can absorb millions of Jews, because it is a large territory and in need of the Jews’ knowledge. Jews and Kurds can be a blessing for one another and live in peace and prosperity for generations to come.”
Other articles and op-eds printed in the magazine discuss the recent deterioration in relations between Israel and Turkey. “Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan describes Israeli soldiers as ‘murderers’ or the Israelis as ‘barbarians,’” notes one writer. “I believe it’s the other way around; the Turkish soldiers are the true murderers, not the Israeli soldiers. Israelis are defending their ancient Holy Land of Israel, but Turkey occupied the Kurdish holy land of the Medes. They are occupiers and murderers.”
“Turkey should be held liable for all the damage that was caused to Israel during the Hamas-supported events, also for damage caused to the Kurds.
Turkey, with all the support that they get from the Israeli Government and Unites States, still cannot face the Kurdish Freedom Fighters. I wish that the Israeli Government from now on will be able to support the PKK Freedom Fighters (read terrorists) against the Turkish Government in order to support human rights and stop the violence against innocent Kurdish people.”
BAZIAN SHARES THIS point of view and believes the way Israel dealt with the Turkish flotilla was appropriate and understandable. “We were watching carefully the developments around the Turkish flotilla, and we were amazed by the international reactions.
After all, Israel has every right to defend its borders. We would understand if some other state, such as Iran, which is known for its provocations, would do something like this, but Israel is a very normal country. So I think that it was legitimate what happened there.”
Bazian says he would love to visit Israel some day, but now it still seems a far off dream as there are no diplomatic relations between Iraq and Israel. But Kurds are used to being patient, he says, and good things come to those who wait, as the proverb has it. “Any diplomatic relations have their stages. In the beginning there is communication and establishing of cultural bridges, which is exactly what we are doing.
It might take time until things change, but Israel has to know it has a good friend in the Middle East, perhaps its only friend,” he concludes.
The controversy over a proposed mosque in lower Manhattan has spurred a wider debate about the nature of Islam. We asked six leading thinkers—Anwar Ibrahim, Bernard Lewis, Ed Husain, Reuel Marc Gerecht, Tawfik Hamid and Akbar Ahmed—to weigh in.
Editor’s Note: The controversy over a proposed mosque in lower Manhattan has spurred a wider debate about the nature of Islam. We asked six leading thinkers to answer the question: What is moderate Islam?
•Anwar Ibrahim: The Ball Is in Our Court
•Bernard Lewis: A History of Tolerance
•Ed Husain: Don’t Call Me Moderate, Call Me Normal
•Reuel Marc Gerecht: Putting Up With Infidels Like Me
•Tawfik Hamid: Don’t Gloss Over The Violent Texts
•Akbar Ahmed: Mystics, Modernists and Literalists
The Ball Is in Our Court
By Anwar Ibrahim
Skeptics and cynics alike have said that the quest for the moderate Muslim in the 21st century is akin to the search for the Holy Grail. It’s not hard to understand why. Terrorist attacks, suicide bombings and the jihadist call for Muslims “to rise up against the oppression of the West” are widespread.
The radical fringe carrying out such actions has sought to dominate the discourse between Islam and the West. In order to do so, they’ve set out to foment anti-Americanism and anti-Semitism. They’ve also advocated indiscriminate violence as a political strategy. To cap their victory, this abysmal lot uses the cataclysm of 9/11 as a lesson for the so-called enemies of Islam.
These dastardly acts have not only been tragedies of untold proportions for those who have suffered or perished. They have also delivered a calamitous blow to followers of the Muslim faith.
These are the Muslims who go about their lives like ordinary people—earning their livings, raising their families, celebrating reunions and praying for security and peace. These are the Muslims who have never carried a pocketknife, let alone explosives intended to destroy buildings. These Muslims are there for us to see, if only we can lift the veil cast on them by the shadowy figures in bomb-laden jackets hell-bent on destruction.
These are mainstream Muslims—no different from the moderate Christians, Jews and those of other faiths—whose identities have been drowned by events beyond their control. The upshot is a composite picture of Muslims as inherently intolerant, antidemocratic, inward-looking and simply unable to coexist with other communities in the modern world. Some say there is only one solution: Discard your beliefs and your tradition, and embrace pluralism and modernity.
This prescription is deeply flawed. The vast majority of Muslims already see themselves as part of a civilization that is heir to a noble tradition of science, philosophy and spirituality that places paramount importance on the sanctity of human life. Holding fast to the principles of democracy, freedom and human rights, these hundreds of millions of Muslims fervently reject fanaticism in all its varied guises.
Yet Muslims must do more than just talk about their great intellectual and cultural heritage. We must be at the forefront of those who reject violence and terrorism. And our activism must not end there. The tyrants and oppressive regimes that have been the real impediment to peace and progress in the Muslim world must hear our unanimous condemnation. The ball is in our court.
Mr. Ibrahim is Malaysia’s opposition leader.
A History of Tolerance
By Bernard Lewis
A form of moderation has been a central part of Islam from the very beginning. True, Muslims are nowhere commanded to love their neighbors, as in the Old Testament, still less their enemies, as in the New Testament. But they are commanded to accept diversity, and this commandment was usually obeyed. The Prophet Muhammad’s statement that “difference within my community is part of God’s mercy” expressed one of Islam’s central ideas, and it is enshrined both in law and usage from the earliest times.
This principle created a level of tolerance among Muslims and coexistence between Muslims and others that was unknown in Christendom until after the triumph of secularism. Diversity was legitimate and accepted. Different juristic schools coexisted, often with significant divergences.
Sectarian differences arose, and sometimes led to conflicts, but these were minor compared with the ferocious wars and persecutions of Christendom. Some events that were commonplace in medieval Europe— like the massacre and expulsion of Jews—were almost unknown in the Muslim world. That is, until modern times.
Occasionally more radical, more violent versions of Islam arose, but their impact was mostly limited. They did not become really important until the modern period when, thanks to a combination of circumstances, such versions of Islamic teachings obtained a massive following among both governments and peoples.
From the start, Muslims have always had a strong sense of their identity and history. Thanks to modern communication, they have become painfully aware of their present state. Some speak of defeat, some of failure. It is the latter who offer the best hope for change.
For the moment, there does not seem to be much prospect of a moderate Islam in the Muslim world. This is partly because in the prevailing atmosphere the expression of moderate ideas can be dangerous—even life-threatening. Radical groups like al Qaeda and the Taliban, the likes of which in earlier times were at most minor and marginal, have acquired a powerful and even a dominant position.
But for Muslims who seek it, the roots are there, both in the theory and practice of their faith and in their early sacred history.
Mr. Lewis, professor emeritus at Princeton, is the author of “From Babel to Dragomans: Interpreting the Middle East” (Oxford University Press, 2004).
Don’t Call Me Moderate, Call Me Normal
By Ed Husain
I am a moderate Muslim, yet I don’t like being termed a “moderate”—it somehow implies that I am less of a Muslim.
We use the designation “moderate Islam” to differentiate it from “radical Islam.” But in so doing, we insinuate that while Islam in moderation is tolerable, real Islam—often perceived as radical Islam—is intolerable. This simplistic, flawed thinking hands our extremist enemies a propaganda victory: They are genuine Muslims. In this rubric, the majority, non-radical Muslim populace has somehow compromised Islam to become moderate.
What is moderate Christianity? Or moderate Judaism? Is Pastor Terry Jones’s commitment to burning the Quran authentic Christianity, by virtue of the fanaticism of his action? Or, is Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, the spiritual head of the Shas Party in Israel, more Jewish because he calls on Jews to rain missiles on the Arabs and “annihilate them”?
The pastor and the rabbi can, no doubt, find abstruse scriptural justifications for their angry actions. And so it is with Islam’s fringe: Our radicals find religious excuses for their political anger. But Muslim fanatics cannot be allowed to define Islam.
The Prophet Muhammad warned us against ghuluw, or extremism, in religion. The Quran reinforces the need for qist, or balance. For me, Islam at its essence is the middle way in all matters. This is normative Islam, adhered to by a billion normal Muslims across the globe.
Normative Islam is inherently pluralist. It is supported by 1,000 years of Muslim history in which religious freedom was cherished. The claim, made today by the governments of Iran and Saudi Arabia, that they represent God’s will expressed through their version of oppressive Shariah law is a modern innovation.
The classical thinking within Islam was to let a thousand flowers bloom. Ours is not a centralized tradition, and Islam’s rich diversity is a legacy of our pluralist past.
Normative Islam, from its early history to the present, is defined by its commitment to protecting religion, life, progeny, wealth and the human mind. In the religious language of Muslim scholars, this is known as maqasid, or aims. This is the heart of Islam.
I am fully Muslim and fully Western. Don’t call me moderate—call me a normal Muslim.
Mr. Husain is author of “The Islamist” (Penguin, 2007) and co-founder of the Quilliam Foundation, a counterextremist think tank.
Putting Up With Infidels Like Me
By Reuel Marc Gerecht
Moderate Islam is the faith practiced by the parents of my Pakistani British roommate at the University of Edinburgh—and, no doubt, by the great majority of Muslim immigrants to Europe and the United States.
Khalid’s mother and father were devout Muslims. His dad prayed five times a day and his mom, who hadn’t yet learned decent English after almost 20 years in the industrial towns of West Yorkshire, gladly gave me the impression that the only book she’d ever read was the Quran.
I was always welcome in their home. Khalid’s mother regularly stuffed me with curry, peppering me with questions about how a non-Muslim who’d crossed the Atlantic to study Islam could resist the pull of the one true faith.
Determined to keep their children Muslim in a sea of aggressive, alcohol-laden, sex-soaked disbelief, they happily practiced and preached peaceful coexistence—even with an infidel who was obviously leading their son down an unrighteous path.
That is the essence of moderation in any faith: the willingness to exist peacefully, if not exuberantly, alongside nonbelievers who hold repellant views on many sacred subjects.
It is a dispensation that comes fairly easily to ordinary Muslims who have left their homelands to live among nonbelievers in Western democracies. It is harder for Muslims surrounded by their own kind, unaccustomed by politics and culture to giving up too much ground.
Tolerance among traditional Muslims is defined as Christian Europe first defined the idea: A superior creed agrees not to harass an inferior creed, so long as the practitioners of the latter don’t become too uppity. Tolerance emphatically does not mean equality of belief, as it now does in the West.
Even in Turkey, where authoritarian secularism has changed the Muslim identity more profoundly than anywhere else in the Old World, a totally secularized Muslim would never call a non-Muslim citizen of the state a Turk. There is a certain pride of place that cannot be shared with a nonbeliever. Wounded pride also does the Devil’s work on ecumenicalism. Adjusting to modernity, with its intellectually open borders and inevitable moral chaos, is brutally hard for monotheisms, especially for those accustomed to rule. But it happens.
When I told Khalid’s father that his children—especially his daughters—would not worship the faith as he and his wife had done, he told me: “They are living a better life than we have lived. That is enough.”
Mr. Gerecht, a former CIA operative, is a senior fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies.
Don’t Gloss Over The Violent Texts
By Tawfik Hamid
In regards to Islam, the words “moderate’” and “radical” are relative terms. Without defining them it is virtually impossible to defeat the latter or support the former.
Radical Islam is not limited to the act of terrorism; it also includes the embrace of teachings within the religion that promote hatred and ultimately breed terrorism. Those who limit the definition of radical Islam to terrorism are ignoring—and indirectly approving of—the Shariah teachings that permit killing apostates, violence against women and gays, and anti-Semitism.
Moderate Islam should be defined as a form of Islam that rejects these violent and discriminatory edicts. Furthermore, it must provide a strong theological refutation for the mainstream Islamic teaching that the Muslim umma (nation) must declare wars against non-Muslim nations, spreading the religion and giving non-Muslims the following options: convert, pay a humiliating tax, or be killed. This violent concept fuels jihadists, who take the teaching literally and accept responsibility for applying it to the modern world.
Moderate Islam must not be passive. It needs to actively reinterpret the violent parts of the religious text rather than simply cherry-picking the peaceful ones. Ignoring, rather than confronting or contextualizing, the violent texts leaves young Muslims vulnerable to such teachings at a later stage in their lives.
Finally, moderate Islam must powerfully reject the barbaric practices of jihadists. Ideally, this would mean Muslims demonstrating en masse all over the world against the violence carried out in the name of their religion.
Moderate Islam must be honest enough to admit that Islam has been used in a violent manner at several stages in history to seek domination over others. Insisting that all acts in Islamic history and all current Shariah teachings are peaceful is a form of deception that makes things worse by failing to acknowledge the existence of the problem.
Mr. Hamid, a former member of the Islamic radical group Jamma Islamiya, is an Islamic reformer and a senior fellow at the Potomac Institute for Policy Studies.
Mystics, Modernists and Literalists
By Akbar Ahmed
In the intense discussion about Muslims today, non-Muslims often say to me: “You are a moderate, but are there others like you?”
Clearly, the use of the term moderate here is meant as a compliment. But the application of the term creates more problems than it solves. The term is heavy with value judgment, smacking of “good guy” versus “bad guy” categories. And it implies that while a minority of Muslims are moderate, the rest are not.
Having studied the practices of Muslims around the world today, I’ve come up with three broad categories: mystic, modernist and literalist. Of course, I must add the caveat that these are analytic models and aren’t watertight.
Muslims in the mystic category reflect universal humanism, believing in “peace with all.” The 13th-century Sufi poet Rumi exemplifies this category. In his verses, he glorifies worshipping the same God in the synagogue, the church and the mosque.
The second category is the modernist Muslim who believes in trying to balance tradition and modernity. The modernist is proud of Islam and yet able to live comfortably in, and contribute to, Western society.
Most Muslim leaders who led nationalist movements in the first half of the 20th century were modernists—from Sultan Mohammed V, the first king of independent Morocco, to M.A. Jinnah, who founded Pakistan in 1947. But as modernists failed over time, becoming increasingly incompetent and corrupt, the literalists stepped into the breach.
The literalists believe that Muslim behavior must approximate that of the Prophet in seventh-century Arabia. Their belief that Islam is under attack forces many of them to adopt a defensive posture. And while not all literalists advocate violence, many do. Movements like the Muslim Brotherhood, Hamas, and the Taliban belong to this category.
In the Muslim world the divisions between the three categories I have delineated are real. The outcome of their struggle will define Islam’s fate.
The West can help by understanding Muslim society in a more nuanced and sophisticated way in order to interact with it wisely and for mutual benefit. The first step is to categorize Muslims accurately.
Mr. Ahmed, the former Pakistani ambassador to Britain, is the chair of Islamic studies at American University and author of “Journey into America: The Challenge of Islam” (Brookings, 2010).
https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052748703369704575461503431290986, SEPTEMBER 1, 2010
Hussein Chalayan in the Lisson Gallery this week, before the installation of his new show
You don’t have to be a regular at the Serpentine Gallery’s achingly cool annual summer party to know that the worlds of art and fashion collude in ever more explicit, and prosperous, ways. Galleries lead the urban regeneration of run-down neighbourhoods that become the new centres of bohemian mischief. Catwalks acquire the kind of audacious conceptual playfulness that would make Duchamp’s experiments look like Constable landscapes. London has led the way in the promiscuous flitting of designers whose chief imperatives are to be loved, to be new and to be seen.
Now at the Lisson gallery comes an exhibition from one of the most daring figures from this twilight world: Hussein Chalayan, purveyor of sci-fi fabrics, wooden skirts, the fashion designer for whom the phrase “ready-to-wear” has never seemed entirely appropriate.
Chalayan’s avant-garde credentials are impeccable, right from his justly famous 1993 graduation show from Central St Martin’s, featuring garments that he had buried in the ground to observe the chemical interaction between the ephemeral and the earthly-elemental (the collection was bought en masse by Browns), to his 1998 “Between” spring-summer display that showed models in various states of undress, covered successively by parts of a chador.
The video of that not uncontroversial show makes riveting viewing, and could easily have been part of a gallery installation, festooned with portentous labels over Chalayan’s genuine interest in east-west dialogues, rather than part of a simple fashion collection.
But then the words “simple” and “fashion” rarely come together in descriptions of the Turkish-Cypriot designer’s work. “I have always been ideas-led,” he tells me over coffee in Clerkenwell. “I have never thought of a garment differently from the way I think of, say, a film. I give them both the same attention. I used to think of fashion as an industrial process, whereas art is supposed not to be. But art is going that way too.”
Perhaps surprisingly, but not to those who follow his unpredictable ways, his new piece at the Lisson is not directly related to fashion. “I am Sad Leyla” is an installation that features a performance of a traditional Turkish folk composition by Sertab Erener, one of Turkey’s most successful female singers, accompanied by an Ottoman orchestra.
The work mixes audio, film, sculpture and musical notation. Hussein says he is interested in picking apart the various cultural influences – Persian poetry, Greek orthodox chanting, central Asian motifs – at play in the work. A de-construction of his ethnic heritage? “That’s too obvious a word. I like the image of a piece of music as a body. And I am disembodying it. It is such a layered piece, you can detect 10 to 15 different cultural things going on.”
It is also a reminder that being Turkish “is a political, not a racial definition”, he says. “The piece comes from hundreds of years of migration, cross-breeding.”
Chalayan is more than familiar with the strife that ethnic cross-pollination can bring. He was born in Nicosia in Cyprus in 1970, moved to England with his parents, but returned in 1975, by which time the city had been divided in the wake of the previous year’s Turkish invasion of the island. “We only grew up with the smell of it,” he says of those clamorous events, “but it was very much in our lives.”
I ask if the Lisson installation refers back to some of those childhood memories. “They are innate,” he replies. “I was inspired by what I remember of Turkish culture back then – how everything was imbued with this institutional feel. It was to do with the Kemalist state, everything was geared towards this sense of nationalistic precision. There was something Soviet about it.”
He describes it as a “stripped-down show”, not overtly related to his fashion work, but not without its visual moments either: “It is almost as if each moment should be enjoyed like a piece of jewellery.” He leaps to another analogy: “It is a framing device, framing something that already exists. How you choose to frame something: that is what a lot of my work is about.”
London is both the perfect home from which to explore these issues, and the perfect venue for the show, he says. “Being here helps me dissect where I come from. It is like crossing to the other side of the road to see an amazing building.”
His adopted city also hosted Chalayan’s most important exhibition so far, last year’s expansive survey of his work at the Design Museum, which also toured to Tokyo and is currently on show at Istanbul Modern. He seems a little bit in love with the city that bestrides the Bosphorus (“it’s the best city”), and a little disenchanted with London (“it never seems to hang on to its own talent very strongly”).
I ask how he combines the worlds of art and fashion, and his rapid-fire response suggests it is a question that plays permanently on his mind. “Well, you have touse clothing. So something can be conceptual, or narrative, or visually charged, but it also has to be an item that you can use. But right from college, I didn’t just want to do nice tops. I wanted to work in a more monumental way.”
But the imperative to sell consistently surely made fashion a more challenging environment?
“The business side of fashion is super-difficult,” he confesses. “You have to rely on the loyalty of buyers. If you don’t sell one season, the next one is difficult. And the worst part of it is that fashion’s existence is based on the seasonal calendar, which is absolutely absurd.”
For someone like him, who loves to experiment with fabric technology (he is currently creative director of the sport and leisurewear company Puma), “you can’t keep coming up with entirely new things twice a year. There are techniques that you will use for a few years. If you want to take techniques further, you just can’t jump around that fast.
“I think our lives are a lot harder than [those of] artists. We have to constantly produce, we have financial restraints, we have to fund the production. It’s really tough.” Chalayan has already had to liquidate his company voluntarily once, when he split from a previous partner. “If you are asking me if I get a return, culturally speaking, the answer is ‘yes’, but as a business we are relatively small. It depends what you want from life.”
He is, in any case, perfectly happy with the blend of his activities. “I must be the only person who can sell a film to a collector, and then put the money into a new [fashion] collection” – both of which have brought him acclaim. He was British Designer of the Year in 1999 and 2000, and represented Turkey in the Venice Biennale of 2005. He attributes his cross-disciplinary approach to his education in London. “Central St Martin’s was a proper art institution, fashion just happened to be one of its departments. It was a fantastic place in which to understand the body in a cultural context. We were like body artists, but we also had to learn how to make our clothes sell. It’s like someone who wants to be a film-maker but has to go into advertising to survive.”
Of the worlds of art and fashion, he says they are “as cliquey as each other. I used to put the art world on a pedestal, but it is so market and money-driven now. You meet more interesting people in the art world, because fashion people tend not to question the world around them that much. But they are as power-driven.”
There is a rare pause as he considers his upcoming exhibition. “You know as far as my fashion business goes, if it can just run itself I am happy. But I do just love doing these projects.”
‘I Am Sad Leyla’ by Hussein Chalayan is at Lisson Gallery, London, September 8 – October 2.www.lissongallery.com