Tag Archives: Angelos Dalachanis

Digging Jerusalem History in Russia

by Yann Potin

Jerusalem is now become a central point of interest to France and Russia. It is no doubt the object of Russia to subjugate the primitive church of the countries.”
Letter from William Tanner Young, British Vice Consul in Jerusalem to Stratford Canning, ambassador of the United Kingdom in Constantinople, January 8, 1844.

image-de-saint-petersbourg

Since the early surveys, the question of the documentation of the Russian presence in Jerusalem from 1840 constitutes a major challenge for the Opening Jerusalem Archives project. The recently increased and strategic presence of Russia in the Middle East, the presence of the archives both inside Jerusalem and abroad, undoubtedly requires patient investigation, specially because the records are not immediately accessible. Guided by previous research conducted by Elena Astafieva, we decided to identify in the Russian archives some relevant fonds in order to explore the intimate relations between the Russian Orthodox Church, the Russian imperial patronage and the city of Jerusalem.


Between espionage and messianism: the Russian presence in Jerusalem


The pilgrimage to Jerusalem has been indeed of decisive importance for Russian Christianity since the 19
th century, when the mystical value of the pilgrimage as an element of messianic tendencies within the Russian Orthodoxy got more interest. The number of Russian pilgrims to Jerusalem each year is then at least five times as numerous as the Catholic or Protestant pilgrims from Western Europe. Historians have noted and underlined this feature, indicating what strategic role it played in the Eastern policy of the Tsarist Empire (see for example the recent book of Lorraine de Meaux, La Russie et la tentation de l’Orient, Paris, Fayard, 2010, pp. 278-291). Marking its presence in Jerusalem, was for the Empire of the Tsars a way to penetrate the heart of its biggest rival, the Ottoman Empire, which he continuously persisted on eroding the boundaries since the eighteenth century. While until 1917 the Tsars continued to claim their right on Constantinople, sending missionaries to Jerusalem constituted also a form of diplomatic espionage. In parallel, a latent conflict or competition between the Greeks and the Russians took place, following ancient divisions within Orthodox Christianity. That is the reason why it is necessary to investigate the Greek archives (in Jerusalem, Athens or Istanbul) in order to have a better understanding of the Russian presence in Jerusalem. This presence was constantly growing and that’s why, in the 1880s, outside the walls of the Old City, near the hospital Notre-Dame-de-France, a wide hospice, known since then as the “Russian Compound“, was built. It could simultaneously accommodate more than 1,000 patients and pilgrims. It became quickly the first core of a real Russian neighborhood, nowadays integrated in the old part of West Jerusalem, making it not only a pavement in the history of diplomacy, but also a matter of urban development. This complexity raises the question of the scattering of archives regarding the relations between Russia, the Russians and the city of Jerusalem. The situation became even more complicated after 1917 when the Soviet Union seemed to lose interest for the Russian presence in the ‘Holy Land’ and until the pots-1948 concession of the Russian compound to the state of Israel. The eventual location, preservation and the very presence of the Archives in the building are still to be verified. A major Russian emigration to Palestine, also after internal schisms within the Russian Orthodox church, has never stopped during the interwar period, increased by the growing issue of Russian Jews, which formed a decisive part of aliyot to Israel and particularly Jerusalem.

The Russian missionaries and their records

An initial investigation about the first Russian missionaries was prepared during a meeting with Elena Astafieva on March 17 in Paris. Elena Astafieva has already published about the Imperial Palestine Society founded in 1881. Therefore she contributed to identify many records and archives. The first prospecting mission in Saint Petersburg archives conducted by Angelos Dalachanis, Vincent Lemire and Yann Potin took place in April 2016 (18-21).

Image 0. On the Neva, the Old Building of the Russian Academy of Sciences, founded by Peter the Great © Yann Potin
Image 0. On the Neva, the Old Building of the Russian Academy of Science, founded by Peter the Great © Yann Potin
Image 1. Building of the National Archives in Saint Petersburg © Yann Potin
Image 1. Building of the National Archives in Saint Petersburg © Yann Potin
Image 2. Cover of the edition of the correspondence between Antonin Kapustin and the earl Ignatiev, Moscow, Indrik, 2014. © Yann Potin
Image 2. Cover of the edition of the correspondence between Antonin Kapustin and the earl Ignatiev, Moscow, Indrik, 2014. © Yann Potin

One of the cultural activities of the Company until 1917 consisted in publishing sources and archival documents about the early years of the “Russian presence” in Jerusalem, as Derek Hopwood names it (The Russian Presence in Syria and Palestine, 1843-1914, Oxford, 1969). Historiography retains indeed 1843 as a founding date: this date corresponds to the secret mission held between December 1843 and August 1844 by the Archimandrite Porphyry Uspenski in Jerusalem, followed by a second mission between 1847 and 1854. However, the Russian ecclesiastical Mission in Jerusalem was officially recognized only in 1858, after the Crimean War. In 1865, the arrival of Antonin Kapustin at the head of this Mission opened a long period of activity and sustainable investments, until the death of Kapustin in 1894 (see the article by Lucien J. Frary ). Elena Astafieva indicated several possible accesses to the dispersed fonds of Antonin Kapustin: the Academy of Sciences (see image 0) whose archives collect part of the fonds Dimitrievski (fond 214), former secretary of the Imperial Society; the Historical Archives (RGIA) (see image 1) that gather a relevant part of Kapustin’s diary, including several volumes that are to be edited by the publishing house Indrik (see image 2), and finally the Russian National Library.

Archival oasis: the Archive of the Academy of Sciences of Saint Petersburg

Science Academy archives have been the main place of investigation during this mission (see image 3 and 4). Apart for the fond 214 (Dimitrievski, former secretary of the Imperial Society), we analysed the richness of the archives of Porphyry Uspenski – Fond 118 – following the suggestion of the director of the Academy archives, Irini Tunkina (see image 5), who warmly welcomed us and offered the Open Jerusalem project a guide to these archives (see image 6).

Image 3. Entrance of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Science. © Yann Potin
Image 3. Entrance of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Science. © Yann Potin
Image 4. Reading room of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. © Yann Potin
Image 4. Reading room of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. © Yann Potin
Image 5. Staff and directory of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. © Yann Potin
Image 5. Staff and directory of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. © Yann Potin
Image 6. Inventory of the fonds of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. © Yann Potin
Image 6. Inventory of the fonds of the Archive of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. © Yann Potin

The fond 214 contains some correspondence of Antonin Kapustin (see image 7) in 1865-1874. Most of the letters received were in Russian, but an important part of them are in Greek. Decrypted by Angelos Dalachanis (see image 8), they show a close and complex relationship with the Greek or Arab Orthodox communities. Several letters in French or Italian testify the extension of Kapustin relations with the local society. In total, this correspondence represents nearly 4000 pages. It requires a detailed analysis, and an inventory describing each document would not help us find our way. We should therefore find another way to give value to the historical richness of these records.

Image 7. Portrait of Antunin Kapustin © All rights reserved
Image 7. Portrait of Antunin Kapustin © All rights reserved
Image 8. Angelos Dalachanis and Yann Potin at work in the Archives of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences
Image 8. Angelos Dalachanis and Yann Potin at work in the Archives of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences

The fond 118 is very complete. It is described by a printed inventory from 1891, six years after the assassination of Uspenski in 1885 by Sirku (see image 10). Numerous papers have been published from this fond, starting with the diary, extremely rich, by Archimandrite Porphyry Uspenski (Knyga Bytia moevo, 8 volumes from 1894 to 1910 see image 11 and 12) or several original reports and memoirs (the first in 1844) especially one by Bezobrazov in 1910. However, many biographical material, including official documents relating to its mission, the passport or the original firman (inventory 1, No. 30-31) remained unpublished. Furthermore, the materials on the two missions of Jerusalem are grouped into five registers (inventory 1, No. 32-36), which represent almost one thousand pages.

Image 9. Printed inventory of The Uspenski Papers (Fond 118) in the the Archives of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences © Vincent Lemire
Image 9. Printed inventory of The Uspenski Papers (Fond 118) in the the Archives of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences © Vincent Lemire
Image 10. Portrait of Porphyr Uspenski. © All rights reserved
Image 10. Portrait of Porphyr Uspenski. © All rights reserved
Image 11. «Le livre de ma vie [knyga bytia moievo]», by Porphy Uspenski. © All rights reserved
Image 11. «Le livre de ma vie [knyga bytia moievo]», by Porphy Uspenski. © All rights reserved

There are many account (otchets), memories (zapiska), drafts minutes and accounts (tetrad) mostly unpublished, which at least deserve a new investigation. They document mostly the period 1848-1854, corresponding to the second mission of Uspensky funded up to 10,000 rubles a year by the Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs Charles Nesselrode. There are glimpses of the many “gifts” made to the Greek Patriarchate, the attempts to purchase or rent some buildings in Jerusalem (including a development plan), but also the episode of 1854 that shows Uspensky convincing the Greek Patriarchate Orthodox to establish an Arab printing press and the implementation of a seminary. These records require deep analysis, to distinguish what has already been published. Certainly this fond will be of considerable interest from the Open Jerusalem research program.

Image 12. Vincent Lemire and Yann Potin at work in the Archives of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences
Image 12. Vincent Lemire and Yann Potin at work in the Archives of the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences

After this first survey in the Russian archives (see image 13), the team, guided by Lora Gerd, professor at the Historical Institute in Saint Petersburg, will continue the work in the archives of Moscow and Saint Petersburg. A second OJ mission is therefore organised from Sept. 11 to Sept. 16, 2016.

Review of “Ottoman Izmir”

Sibel Zandi­-Sayek,
Ottoman Izmir: The Rise of a Cosmopolitan Port,
1840–1880
Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press for Architecture,
2014

Review by Angelos Dalachanis

This review originally appeared on ABE Journal, 6, 2014

Izmir is a somewhat privileged case, among the “cosmopolitan” port cities of the Ottoman Eastern Mediterranean, in terms of the number of studies devoted to it. However, although scholars dealing with Izmir’s history almost unanimously cite its cosmopolitan
character, most of them examine the city from the perspective of individual ethnic and religious minorities. An obvious disadvantage of such an approach is that it ignores the relational dimension of group formation: minority communities coalesced in relation and
opposition to one another. Another disadvantage is that it downgrades the multicultural character of the city’s diverse population –an aspect historians of such cities are careful to point out– and its interactions with the Ottoman administration. Usually, approaches tending to encompass all minorities focus on the end of the Ottoman era, namely the first two decades of the twentieth century and especially 1922, when the city was burned. In most Turkish, Greek, Armenian, or other national historiographies, the image of Izmir in flames has become a symbolic signpost, announcing the end of the city’s cosmopolitanism.

Sibel Zandi-Sayek’s study addresses the abovementioned issues with considerable success. She goes back to the time when Izmir’s cosmopolitanism was forged, providing a fresh view of the phenomenon. Her study, situated at the crossroads of urban, social, and political history, discusses Izmir’s cosmopolitanism as an outcome of constant negotiation between its diverse population, the city’s institutions, and the multifaceted urban reality from the 1840s to the 1880s, a period of especially rapid political, social, and urban
change. Unlike most historians of 19th century cities, Zandi-Sayek does not blindly accept institutionally defined ethnoreligious categories. Her contribution to the debate consists in interrogating the urban space for responses to issues concerning identity and belonging.
The author argues that social categories, which were designed by Ottoman institutions, were reconfigured by the everyday use of the urban space and citizens’ routine behaviors.
The author’s use of “the urban space and spatial practices as a lens,” shifting the focus to the porosity of institutional and group boundaries, enables her to capture a world in flux and “hinged on delicate balances”. Indeed, nothing is static in Zandi-Sayek’s Izmir. Everything is dynamic, fluid, and in constant (re)negotiation: people, groups, urban practices and space as well as institutional policies. Being “the West of the East and the East of the West,” the city itself is part of a broader dynamic Levantine/Mediterranean universe. Izmir’s urban space is not only defined by its permanent residents but, to a great extent, by the mobility of its population. This mobility was a salient feature throughout the period under scrutiny, enhanced by the region’s history as a favorable setting for the transfer of resources, goods, and people. This fluidity inevitably etched itself into the urban landscape. The author manages to capture this permanent flux, the force behind continual urban transformations and the definition of new social, class, and ethnoreligious borders. Zandi-Sayek‘s writing style, also fluid, contributes to highlighting the ever-changing urban and social environment and makes the book accessible to any reader, specialist or not. The structure of the historical narrative, divided into four chapters that follow on from a rich introduction and precede a strong and summative epilogue, is an ideal channel for this essential fluidity.

The first chapter, entitled “Defining Citizenship: Property, Taxation and Sovereignty,” deals with the articulation of the legal status of individuals and groups in relation to ownership rights and taxation. After presenting different aspects of Ottoman legal pluralism, the author turns our gaze to the tensions that arose when the Ottoman state tried to impose economic and legal control over individuals and groups, through legislative measures and the establishment of the cadastre. In a place where the foundations of citizenship and legal status were often shifting, language, religion, and culture constituted the main demarcation lines between different groups.

“Ordering the Streets: Public Space and Public Governance” is the title of the second chapter, which discusses the establishment of a modern institutional apparatus when Izmir expanded during the period under scrutiny. Here, citizenship matters most because
foreign protection is of significant importance in the city’s streets, troubled as they were by fire, epidemics, and crime. Despite divisions between private and public interests, protected and unprotected individuals, Ottoman administrators and foreign consuls, Izmir is viewed as a whole. The author argues that in Izmir, “physical and administrative structures mutually inform one another,” a finding that offers, according to her, a model to be used to analyze modernization in different cities around the globe.

The title of the third chapter, “Shaping the Waterfront; Public Works and Public Good,” is highly evocative of its focus. The state-of-the-art design of the new port of Izmir, built between 1869 and 1875, symbolizes the city’s passage to modernity. The construction of such an infrastructure provides an interesting background to examine different views of the city’s diverse population regarding not only the question of public good and private interest but also the physical interaction of the different groups along the 3.2 kilometers of the new quay.

The final chapter of the book, “Performing Community: Rituals and Identity,” demonstrates how public rituals, feasts, and ceremonies contributed to the forging of a sense of urban community among Izmir’s diverse minorities. This form of citadinité constituted the cultural core of the cosmopolitan universe Zandi-Sayek discusses here. Within it, the urban landscape emerges as an additional actor in this story. Accordingly, the author aptly underlines the political dimension of the use of public space. In this perspective, she does not view the city as a static construction but as a system of multiple
spaces, appropriated to different degrees by the local population, Muslim or non-Muslim.

Nevertheless, the use in the title of the rather ambiguous, if not problematic, term “cosmopolitan” should have been addressed in the introduction. This description has been often associated with an elitist, rosy image of the Eastern Mediterranean cities. The author
could have employed the term, which has fuelled a nostalgic literature, more tactfully. Instead, she utilizes it as an umbrella term from above without much consideration as to precisely whom it may be referring to. The interrelatedness noted by the author –which
could be considered to be a synonym of cosmopolitanism– seems to concern a particular part of the city’s population: that is, the most privileged social strata. In this respect, a more detailed discussion of the city’s social stratification might have clarified some blind spots and enriched the discussion with a view from below, which is sometimes missing.
Overall, this work provides a fascinating account of Izmir’s glorious cosmopolitan past. Zandi-Sayek astutely documents her study with a variety of Ottoman primary sources, French and British consular documents, and articles from the local press. The bibliography, which draws on works in Turkish, French, and English, is more than
satisfying. Moreover, the book is illustrated with a valuable collection of maps, plans, engravings, printed advertisements, and pictures, which make for enjoyable reading and remind us of the author’s specialization as a historian of art and architecture.