Donate Now Iason Athanasiadis, for the Pulitzer Center
Istanbul, Turkey
Millions of Muslim break their fast today (Tuesday 29 September) for one last time as the holy month of Ramadan comes to an end and a new moon appears in the skies. But in Turkey, where Ramadan is pronounced Ramazan, this year was not so much a time of reflection, self-denial and prayer as an extension of the political battlefield between secularists and the faithful over public and private behaviour during the holy month.
Photograph by Iason Athanasiadis
In the bastion of secularism that is the capital, Ankara, an alcohol vendor had his store vandalized by vigilantes for not refraining from selling alcohol during Ramadan. In Istanbul, Turkey's westernmost and most liberal city, a demonstration against the banning of drinking in public spaces (that featured public alcohol consumption) turned nasty when the police arrested an organizer.
Turkey is a secular country with a Kemalist tradition that, until recently, banned headscarfed women from studying in universities or working in the public sector.
But much has changed since the religious AKP Party came to power. Societal tensions soared after the law banning headscarves in official places of education and work was rescinded.
Predictably, the political confrontation did not spare Ramadan. Mustafa Akyol, a columnist for the Turkish Daily News, wrote in his column that "Turkey is becoming neither yet another Iran nor another, say, Amsterdam. It is becoming what Turkish columnist Haluk Şahin recently dubbed "ucubistan", or "strangeland."
Akyol tackled the issue of public drinking, a political hot potato in a country that is overwhelmingly Muslim but where alcohol is openly sold and served. He visited one of the entertainment districts on Istanbul's Asian side, where drinkers sit alongside fasters, and commented that the direction this society is heading has been a bone of contention for some time. Secularists see more headscarves around and fear that the country might be destined to become another Iran. Conservatives, on the other hand, are constantly complaining about the erosion of traditional morality and family values and the onslaught of hedonism.
The Pew Research Center threw its hat into this mix by releasing a poll during Ramadan that found just 20 percent of Turks fast for the entire month and rising levels of secularist education and income are driving an increase in the number of people willing to break some of Islam's strictures even while considering themselves Muslims.
On the European side of Istanbul, residents of traditionally cosmopolitan and non-observant areas such as Beyoglu believe that broadcasts of the call to prayer in their neighbourhood have become louder in recent years. Non-Muslims and Muslims alike feel it is increasingly difficult to walk in the streets munching on a snack without attracting reproachful stares. And the drummers that rampage through residential quarters an hour before dawn, rousing fasters for a final meal before another day of abstinence, are allegedly louder and more brazen in their exhortations for people to wake up
"It's a way of saying, 'We know that you're fasting or intending to wake up for the iftar, and we'll wake you up as punishment,'" a foreign resident said.
What most Turks seem to agree on is that their society is ever more polarized: 68 percent of Turkish participants in the Pew poll thought their country is subject to a clash between moderates and fundamentalists. But according to another pollster, Adil Gur of A&G research company, conservatism in Turkey is on the rise only in appearance.
For a fresh arrival, making sense of the layers of complexity surrounding this issue takes time. Sometimes, the smallest signs are the most indicative ones. Last week, I was buying a simit (a round, sesame-seed topped bread snack) right before heading into the Metro stop in the modern Levent neighbourhood. The vendor seemed surprised that I did not want my snack wrapped. I was taken aback that he wanted to wrap a snack. It took a few long stares from passengers around me, as I wondered around the platform idly munching before I realized that public eating, when done, should be a little more understated.