By Aditya Fajrham Kevi
From: Bukittingi, Indonesia
Age: 27 years old

A gazel meditates on writing as conquest, blending calligraphy, love, hurūfism (numerology), and empire. The ghazi shapes meaning through disciplined takva (will), uniting East and West, flesh and spirit. letters become architecture, metaphors garrisons, and unfinished cadence destiny, asserting that deliberate imagination can found both poems and realms across history and desire.

Consider first the ink. It is not merely soot and gum. It is the stubbornness of a will that has stared into the abyss between a night and the dream (ʿOsmān’s). Before this kalem touches the acoustics of a two-dimensional parchment, it exists as pure potential—murky Bosphorus of daydreams contained in a humble well of sustenance. To compose is to commence a conquest; each word is a standard (Sandžak) planted upon the blank, resistant field of the page. The platform itself is Anatolia in the fourteenth century: the beaten pulps of fractured Beyliks, a porous backbone of unresolved loyalties and intrigues of “bad faith” (per Ibn Taymiyya), waiting for a hero to inscribe a moving calligraphy (dīwānī) upon its chaotic emptiness.

The poet’s posture is not that of a rest. Though he sits as a Gazi upon the helping cushion of his own solitude, his spine the obelisk of a universe in self-assembly. The inspiration is not a rocking Muse, but a relentless osmosis from within the breast, a kılıç (saber) of worry seeking its kılıf (sheath) in form. He is not writing of love as a mere sentiment; he is, as series of continuous and fiery gallops of the stallions (al-ʿādiyāt Suresi), a sovereign principle that may organise disparate realms into a coherent state of the heart. The beloved, then, assumes the shy front of his Second Rome: not a cathedral to be sacked, but a world to be harmonized, a prophecy to be fulfilled. To grasp Her is to bridge the gap between the ḥadīth and the gazette.

Begin with the dot (nokta). All meaning condenses into a point of pure, focused will. From this, the first letter emerges—a vertical stroke, a minaret of Meaning against the dawning vantage of vision and gustation. It is the ʾalif (ا), the unwavering affirmation, the sword unsheathed. It stands alone, a declaration of unity. But sovereignty is lonely. It seeks connection, dialogue, the interplay of forces. Thus, it curves into a bāʾ (ب), embracing the ʾalif Austerity. The bâ is the vessel, the womb of all that follows, the just marvel that contains multitudes, as they whisper the first secret of existence: that Majesty requires a medium.

The composition progresses as a campaign of synthesis. One does not merely juxtapose Persian floral imagery with the intoxicating (10%) ode (qaṣīda) of ʿĀshūrāʾ. One marries them. The dīvān is like the paired cupolas of a great külliye: one echoing the semblance of past Caesars, with Romantic proportions that still the soul; the other inscribed with the flowing, vegetal arabesques of Shiraz, a testament to a beauty that grows and entwines. The em dasher, like İskender, knows that true power lies not in erasure, but in the creation of a new whole from profound opposites. The resulting structure is neither fully East nor West, but a moderate, self-effacing Stamboul as testament to a mind that could hold two worlds in a single, tensile thought.

Every metaphor must be weighed, not for mere beauty, but for its numerical metrics. Is the beloved’s eyebrow the new moon? Then calculate the value of hilâl. Does her cheek reflect the rose? Unpack the essence of gül. In this silent numerology, a deeper architecture is revealed. The curve of a mīm (م) is both a closed circle and an open embrace; its value guarantees completion and containment (40). When scattered throughout the poem, these letters are becoming a lot more than just ornaments; it appears, as if, they are garrisons of niyet, holding the spiritual territory of the verse.

A true lover works in registers, moving seamlessly from the tangible to the Qurʾānic. The scent of the beloved’s perfume is both the literal amber brought by Venetian galleys to the ports of Galata and the fragrant proof of IYI. The saltwater that dampens each twist and turn is of tears of human longing or of the Pacific Ocean of a separation that spans centuries. This is where takva is—the integrity that functions on each and every level. It is pragmatic, for it moves the heart; it is symbolic, for it maps the heavens; it is mainstream, for it speaks of puppy love; it is esoteric, for it conceals the sirr of strokes in its sighs.

And what of the prime that causes this entire creation? It is a will that submits only to its own Highest Nature. It is the hilt that chooses its own hand, not out of vanity, but out of a perfect snug of warm recognition. To sign under the pseudonym Avnî—Godsped—is here the ultimate discipline: it is to align one’s personal desire with the eternal ambition that courses through time. It is to feel, in the act of choosing an image or breaking a line, the same formidable certainty that looks upon a crumbling thousand-year-old wall and sees not a barrier, but a summons. This will is the bridge between a certain “the Kid” (Şehzade) of unfortunate expectations and a destiny liberated (futūḥ) in a pack and drags of the Red Apple (Kızılelma).

The final couplet approaches: the final rows of charging mandem and stirred emotions. But great songwriting, like the Great Delusion (1432–1453), must understand the power of the unrealized. The rhyme scheme yearns for closure, yet the most haunting ghazal leaves a resonant, unresolved note hanging in the silent air of the nightingale. It is the stanza not written for Rome, the campaign deferred by the skepticism of lesser kayserler who could not see the horizon as he saw it. This unfulfilled cadence is not a failure; it is the open door to eternity. It is what allows this poem to escape its era, to become a timeless, cosmic aspiration that others, of other ages, will hear as an echo of their own inner imperative.

Thus, this painting is complete. The Ḥurūf, scattered like strategic outposts across the humbled page, now form a silent, yet liturgical testament. The vertical certainty of the Lāms (ل ل ل) guards the flanks of the meaning. The concluding Hāʾ (ه) is not an end, but an exhalation—the release of the breath held during the entire act of creation, the soft sound of arrival at a destination that is also a new beginning. It is a new reality, a mental legacy that may not have been etched on paper, but splashed onto the very air of change.

It proves that to microdelete and/or microduplicate a few lines of verse with absolute intention is to perform the same macrocosm as forging an empire (dawla) from the foremost of a clique of a clan of a Godforsaken populace: both are the art of making the imagined world inevitable, of outcutting infidelity, of acquiring survival over the chains of restraints around what is golden, of bending the pliable wall of circumstance around the unyielding cannonball of İrade.

And in that act, the March of Victory, by what is true, is Ever-Manifest, for or against the Great, Ebü ʾl-Fetḥ am yours truly.

By Rameen Kamran
From: Islamabad, Pakistan
Age: 17 years old

AHMED CELEBI’S FLIGHT OVER THE BOSPHORUS

The Ottoman Empire is often synonymous with the powerful sultans, imperialism, and ornate palaces, but behind this image is an equally significant legacy of contributions in science, arts and learning. As the successors and the continuators of the glorious Islamic empires, the Ottomans carried forward their legacy of learning and made extensive contributions to engineering, medicine, astronomy et cetera. Long before the Wright brothers took their first flight, Hazerfan Ahmed Celebi defied gravity through his intercontinental flight through the skies overlooking the Topkapi in the reign of Sultan Murad IV. For Centuries, humans have been looking for a way to emulate the way birds and other flight animals soar through the endless skies touching the ceiling of the earth but Ahmed Celebi was courageous enough to be the first man who breathed life into that dream. 

BEFORE THE FLIGHT

Inspired by the drawings of Leonardo Da Vinci, Ahmed Celebi devoted himself to the studying of the flight of the birds and then engineered a rudimentary set of wings, imitating wings of the majestic eagle. Hazerfan did not leapt over the Galata the first time. He is said to have carried out various small flights first in different elevations of Istanbul. Ahmed also trained his body to maintain balance, endure the pressure exerted by the winds and to control his breathing during the flight. This was not an easy task. It took focused training and unflinching determination. 

THE HISTORIC FLIGHT

According to the account of Evliya Celebi, an Ottoman traveler, Ahmed Celebi took a leap from the top of Galata Tower, one of the highest points of the city, in 1632. Harnessing the power of aerodynamics and years of practice, he glided over the strait of Bosphorus and crossed Europe to Asia. He landed triumphantly in the Doğancılar district of Üsküdar, surprising the spectators and according to one legend, the adoration of Sultan Murad IV himself. 

LEGACY

Sultan Murad IV, being highly impressed from Hazerfan’s flight, awarded him with gold but later exiled him, fearing that his prowess might endanger the established order. He suffered a fate not unknown to the brilliant minds of the day and age where innovation was considered heresy. But his legacy of being the pioneer aviator lived on. 

CONCLUSION

Ahmet Celebi’s leap has become a symbol of innovation not just limited to Turkey but beyond. His story represents the true essence of scientific curiosity in the minds of the ottomans, human ingenuity and the desire to achieve something great. It served and continues to serve as an inspiration for engineers, dreamers and futurists all over the globe. Long before modern aviation, Ahmed envisioned a world where sky was accessible for humans as a passage. He taught us that the true spirit of innovation begins by cultivating a  mindset by challenging one’s own self to achieve greatness. 

REFERENCES

https://www.egypttoday.com/Article/4/8375/Muslim-pioneers-of-aviation-17th-century-flight-in-Istanbul

https://www.motleyturkey.com/hezarfen-the-first-flying-person/

https://www.aviationfile.com/who-is-hezarfen-ahmed-celebi/

PHOTOGRAPHS

All the pictures used in this article do not belong to me. They belong to their original owners and efforts have been made to find the owners.

Some images used on this blog are sourced from the internet and are assumed to be in the public domain. We make every effort to ensure proper attribution, but if you are the owner of an image and believe it has been used without proper permission, please contact us so we can give proper credit or remove the image as requested.

By Taha Farooq
From: Gothenburg, Sweden
Attending: Software Engineering and Management, University of Gothenburg
Age: 20 years old

One often thinks that greatness, in its purest form, is anonymous. It leaves behind no portraits, no gilded tombs, no books of self-regard. It leaves only traces of intelligence cast into the world: a bridge that endures a flood, a dome that holds the sky, a quiet flow of water that never falters. Mimar Sinan, the imperial architect of the Ottoman Empire, lived to nearly a hundred years and raised hundreds of structures, yet he called himself only el-Fakir (the humble one). And what is humility, if not the ability to build without needing to boast?

Sinan emerged from a system which understood architecture as a form of wisdom. The Ottoman court of the sixteenth century was intensely intellectual, filled with polymaths, mathematicians, cartographers, and scholars of geometry. 

As Gábor Ágoston reminds us, Ottoman technocrats operated in a rational framework, where “practical science served not only utility but imperial dignity.”[1] Miri Shefer-Mossensohn, too, notes in her study Science Among the Ottomans that the boundaries between spiritual and scientific knowledge were far more permeable than modern categories allow.[2]

To walk beneath one of Sinan’s domes is to experience true levitation. To put it poetically, his mosques rise as if the earth itself had exhaled, and the dome hovered where the breath once was. But such weightlessness is hard-won, even in engineering. 

Consider the Selimiye Mosque in Edirne, which Sinan described as the culmination of his life’s work. There he raised a dome larger than that of Hagia Sophia, resting on eight slender piers spaced far apart. It was a daring structural gesture, achieved through precise calculations of thrust and counter-thrust, an understanding of tension and gravity that approached the poetic. Yet, he did that without replicating Hagia Sophia. He rather resolved it. 

Metaphorically, if domes were his poetry, aqueducts were his grammar. Istanbul, the empire’s heart, had long struggled with water. Byzantine systems had collapsed or clogged, and new imperial complexes, like the Süleymaniye Mosque and its surrounding külliye, demanded a purer, more reliable supply. 

Sinan revived and vastly expanded the Kırkçeşme water system, sourcing springs up to 55 kilometres away, which was more than a matter of volume. The water had to descend gently by gravity alone, lest stagnation result in impurity or speed causing overflow.[3] That is, without pumps, without pressure, without haste. The gradient had to be so gentle as to be almost imperceptible, never more than a few decimeters drop per kilometer. Any steeper, and erosion would follow; any shallower, and stagnation. 

To balance the flow over such terrain required an almost prophetic grasp of topography. He surveyed valleys and ridges, then entwined through them conduits so precise they suggest, as Heinz Gaube notes, a “cosmological grammar translated into urban syntax.”[4]

He built channels enclosed in stone, often underground, to keep the water shaded, pure, and cool. Settling basins allowed silt to fall, and covered cisterns stored reserves. His materials were chosen precisely for their capacity to resist contamination: smooth mortar linings, enclosed flumes, lead-tipped fountains. Water, too, had to arrive clean. Sinan designed enclosed channels, covered cisterns, and protective vaults. Settling basins allowed silt to fall, and stones were carefully chosen to prevent contamination.

When the course met ravines or streams, Sinan’s solution was simple elevation. Among the many solutions he devised, the Mağlova Aqueduct stands as a work of sublime balance. Two tiers, more than 250 metres in length and over 35 metres high, the structure had to survive both seismic tremors and catastrophic floods. 

It appears to be a relic of antiquity. Yet it was a modern structure for its time, rebuilt by Sinan after a flood in 1563 using principles that married Gothic verticality with Ottoman seismic realism. He widened the bases of the piers into pyramidal forms, embedded internal drainage conduits, and designed the arches not just to hold but to flex with the weight of water and earth’s occasional trembling.

There is something sublime in the thought that a structure meant to carry water could also carry time. The Kırkçeşme system, capable of delivering over 4,000 cubic meters of water daily, became part of the city’s metaphysical infrastructure. 

Gülru Necipoğlu writes that Sinan’s waterworks functioned as an “extension of cosmic order,” their flow mirroring divine regularity.[5]. They were waqf in motion, more like pious donations in stone and flow. It was a system that merged environmental engineering with moral duty, echoing Tursun Beg’s earlier view that “good rule is known by the building of cities and the restoration of ruins.”[6]

His domes were the inverse of his aqueducts. One rose from earth to echo the heavens; the other descended through land to serve what lay below. Both required the same intelligence: a trust in geometry, a feel for resistance, a willingness to listen to the language of terrain. One might say that where Leonardo imagined flight, Sinan achieved levitation.

He built in a city that trembles. Istanbul, cradled by fault lines, offered no forgiveness for errors in calculation. Sinan’s great mosques, including the Süleymaniye, were fitted with subtle seismic features: hollow corner towers, flexible buttresses, load-distributing half domes, and layered arches designed to dissipate lateral forces. Earthquakes struck in 1557 and again in 1569, yet the structures stood. We measure architects today by how well they beautify a skyline; Sinan must be measured by what still stands after the ground beneath it moved.

His written works, though few, reveal a mind attuned to both metaphysics and mathematics. In Tezkiretü’l-Bünyan, he reflects on domes not only as spatial solutions but as spiritual acts: “By the help of God,” he writes, “I calculated the measure of the dome to rise as a canopy of the heavens, such that it did not collapse even with the trembling of the earth.”[7] It is a statement of humility, yes, but in essence, the voice of a man who knew his dome would not fall because he had made it, like the heavens, to obey order.

Evliya Çelebi, a century later, called him “a second Solomon whose fingers held the pen of geometry and whose soul belonged to prophecy.”[8] Heinz Gaube, writing centuries after that, saw in Sinan’s work a “cosmological grammar translated into urban syntax.”[4] 

His legacy is also pedagogical. He trained over a hundred apprentices, among them Sedefkar Mehmed Agha, who would design the Blue Mosque. He codified a style: domes that hover over unified spaces, courtyards framed by logic, aqueducts that outlive floods. From Bosnia to Baghdad, the curve of his thought can still be traced in stone.

To call him the Ottoman Da Vinci is to make him legible to the Western canon. One might concede that, at times, such a parallel becomes a regrettable necessity, owing to the widely held, albeit often specious, contention that the Ottomans harbored an innate resistance to innovation. 

In essence, however, Sinan did not need to draw Vitruvian men to understand proportion, nor study Galen to understand flow. His laboratory was the city; his manuscripts were bridges. And though we have no self-portraits, no mirror-written notebooks, we have something more durable: the quiet murmur of water still flowing into Istanbul, the steady silence of a dome that has not cracked.

References

1. Gábor Ágoston, Guns for the Sultan: Military Power and the Weapons Industry in the Ottoman Empire(Cambridge University Press, 2005).
2. Miri Shefer-Mossensohn (ed.), Science Among the Ottomans: The Cultural Creation and Exchange of Knowledge (University of Texas Press, 2015).
3. Doğan Kuban, Ottoman Architecture (YEM Yayın, 2007).
4. Heinz Gaube, “Ottoman Town Planning and Urban Design,” Environmental Design, Vol. 1 (1984).
5. Gülru Necipoğlu, The Age of Sinan: Architectural Culture in the Ottoman Empire (Reaktion Books, 2005).
6. C. Max Kortepeter, “Ottoman Imperial Waterworks,” Archivum Ottomanicum, Vol. 1 (1969).
7. Mimar Sinan, Tezkiretü’l-Bünyan (ca. 1580s), quoted in Necipoğlu, 2005.
8. Evliya Çelebi, Seyahatnâme, Vol. I (17th century), trans. Robert Dankoff.

Images and Captions

1. (Left) Believed to be Mimar Sinan: Nakkaş Osman. “Ottoman Figures, Detail from a Manuscript.” 1579. Image. Wikimedia Commons. Accessed July 6, 2025. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MimarSinan-Detail.jpg
2. Selimiye Mosque in Edirne: Rob Stoeltje (13th September 2014) Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selimiye_Mosque_(15051985908)_(cropped).jpg
3. Visegrad Drina Bridge: [Nyča, Julian (J budissin). “Visegrad Drina Bridge 1.” Photograph, August 20, 2007. Wikimedia Commons. Accessed July 6, 2025.https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Visegrad_Drina_Bridge_1.jpg
4. Bust of Mimar Sinan in Istanbul: Gryffindor. (2008, March). Bust of Mimar Sinan. Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sinan_Caferaga_March_2008b.JPG

Some images used on this blog are sourced from the internet and are assumed to be in the public domain. We make every effort to ensure proper attribution, but if you are the owner of an image and believe it has been used without proper permission, please contact us so we can give proper credit or remove the image as requested.

By Emirhan Özkır
From: İstanbul
Attending: İstanbul Medipol University, Faculty of Communication, Public Relations & Advertising
Age: 21 years old

Şehzade Ömer Faruk Efendi hanedanın en güzel prensesleri Neslişah, Hanzade ve Necla Sultanların babası, Dürrüşehvar Sultan’ın biricik ağabeyi, Halife Abdülmecid Efendi’nin yegâne oğlu, Sultan Vahideddin’in damadı ve Sultan Abdülaziz Han’ın torunuydu. Kendi devrinde hanedanın en yakışıklı şehzadesiydi…

Şehzadenin Doğumu ve Çocukluğu

Ömer Faruk Efendi, 1898 senesinde Ortaköy’deki Feriye Sarayı’nda dünyaya geldi. Babası Sultan Abdülaziz’in oğullarından Halife Abdülmecid Efendi annesi Çerkes asıllı Şehsuvar Kadınefendi’dir. Abdülmecid Efendi yegâne oğlunu Mekteb-i Sultânî yani şimdiki Galatasaray Lisesi’ne gönderdi.

Mekteb-i Sultânî’den sonra o zamana kadar hiç alışılmadık şekilde tahsil hayatına Avrupa’da devam etti. Viyana Theresianum Koleji’ni ve Prusya Potsdam Harp Akademisi’ni bitirdi. Prusya hassa alayında üsteğmen rütbesiyle staj yaptı. Alman İmparatoru Kayzer Wilhelm’in muhafız alayına girdi. 1.Dünya Savaşı sırasında Galiçya ardından Verdun cephesinde görev yaptı. Almanya’nın en büyük iki madalyasını aldı.

1.85 boyunda, yakışıklı, entelektüel, zevk sahibi bir şehzadeydi. O dönemin İstanbul’un da kendisini uzaktan yakından tanıyan pek çok hanımın gönlünü çalmıştı. 1920-1924 yılları arasında Fenerbahçe Spor Kulübü başkanlığı da yapmıştır.

Aşk ve İnat: Sabiha Sultan’la Evlilik

Hıdiv İsmail Paşa’nın torunu Emine Fuad Tugay gibi pek çok uygun gelin adayı olmasına rağmen Faruk Efendi ikinci dereceden kuzini olan Sabiha Sultan’a âşıktı. Üstelik Sabiha Sultan Faruk Efendi’den 4 yaş büyüktü. Sabiha Sultan’ın babası o ve sırada padişah olan Sultan Vahideddin ile Faruk Efendi’nin babası Abdülmecid Efendi amcazade oluyorlardı. Sabiha Sultan’ın evlilik yaşı çoktan gelmesine ve onun da pek çok talibi olmasına rağmen sultanda halen evlenmemişti. Bu talipler arasında kimler yoktu ki, İran şahı, Mustafa Kemal Paşa, Müşir Ahmed Paşa’nın yeğeni Mehmed Ali Bey, askerler, diplomatlar ve daha kimler kimler…

Aralarında aşkında en inatçı olan Faruk Efendi oldu ve bu durumu annesi Şehsuvar Kadınefendi’ye anlattı. “Sabiha başka biriyle evlenirse bende intihar ederim!” dedi, yemeden içmeden kesildi. Nihayet Şehsuvar Kadınefendi, kocasının huzuruna çıktı “efendi hazretleri ben biricik oğlumu kaybedemem, ne olursa olsun bu evlilik olucak” dedi. Gençlik yıllarında çok samimi olan Sultan Vahideddin ile Abdülmecid Efendi’nin arasına son yıllarda kara kedi girmiş, birbirlerinden hiç hazzetmez olmuşlardı. Abdülmecid Efendi her bulduğu fırsatta o sırada padişah olan Sultan Vahideddin’in kararlarını tenkit ediyordu. Fakat oğlunun hatırı için istemeye istemeye de olsa saraya gitti ve vaziyeti padişaha izah edip Sabiha Sultan’ı oğlu Ömer Faruk Efendi’ye istedi. En az Abdülmecid Efendi kadar Sultan Vahideddin de olanları işitince şaşırdı, ama artık yapıcak bir şey yoktu…

Abdülmecid Efendi’nin saraya gittiği sıralarda, Faruk Efendi’nin annesi Şehsuvar Kadınefendi de Sabiha Sultan’ın annesiyle görüşmeye gitmiş, vaziyeti başkadınefendiye anlatmıştı. Nazikeda Kadınefendi de kocası gibi şok olmuş “nasıl olur böyle bir şey” demişti. Senelerdir kimseleri kabul etmeyen Sabiha Sultan bu evlilik teklifine müspet yaklaştı ve Faruk Efendi’yle evlenmeyi kabul etti. Nihayet 1920’nin nisan ayında evlendiler. Düğünden önceki gece Sabiha Sultan ve Faruk Efendi yanlarında bazı dostlarıyla beraber vakit geçirmişlerdi. Bunu işiten eski saraylı kalfalar “Mecid soyundan bir sultanla, Aziz soyundan bir şehzade evlenooorlar, birde düğünden önceki gece baş başa vakit geçiriyooorrlarrr, başımıza taş yağacak..!” demişlerdi.

Sultan Vahideddin kızına düğün hediyesi olarak Teşvikiye’de bir konak ve Rumelihisarı’ndaki Tophane Müşiri Zeki Paşa Yalısını verdi. Yeni evli çift umumiyetle kış aylarını Teşvikiye’deki konakta yaz aylarını da Rumelihisarı’ndaki yalıda geçirirlerdi. Düğünden yaklaşık 10 ay sonra ilk çocukları Fatma Neslişah Sultan’ı kucaklarına aldılar. Bu güzeller güzeli bebeğe Fatma adını şahbabası Sultan Vahideddin, Neslişah ismini ise büyükbabası Abdülmecid Efendi vermişti.

Gemi Ambarında Anadolu’ya Yolculuk

Ankara’nın davetine işgal kuvvetlerinin evini sarmasıyla icabet edemeyen Abdülmecid Efendi, 26 Nisan 1921’de oğlunu gizlice Anadolu’ya gönderdi. Bir geminin ambarında seyahat ederek İnebolu’ya geçti. Mustafa Kemal Paşa kendisinin İstanbul’da durmasının daha uygun olacağını bildiren bir telgraf çekerek geri dönmesini istedi.

Saltanat kaldırıldıktan sonra hükümet bütün şehzade ve damatların ordudan atıldığını ilan etti. Mesleğini çok seven, büyük bir tutkuyla yapan ve hakikaten çok iyi bir asker olan şehzade bu habere çok üzüldü. Bu hadiseden birkaç ay sonra halifelik kaldırıldı ve tüm hanedan ülkeyi terk etmek zorunda kaldı. 

İmparatorluktan Sürgüne

Ömer Faruk Efendi ve ailesi önce İsviçre’ye ardından Güney Fransa’nın Nice şehrine gittiler. 1926’da kayınpederi Sultan Vahideddin vefat edince cenaze işlemleriyle Faruk Efendi ilgilendi ve kayınpederinin cenazesini Şam’a götürdü.

Memleketini çok seven bir vatansever olan Faruk Efendi evinin her tarafını Türk bayraklarıyla donatmıştı. 1931’de kız kardeşi Dürrüşehvar Sultan Haydarabad Nizâmı’nın oğluyla evlenip ailenin maddi durumu düzelince Faruk Efendi’de kendine Lancia marka bir araba aldı. Arabasında da tıpkı evinde olduğu gibi Türk bayrağı çekiliydi. Arabayı çok süratli kullanması sebebiyle Abdülmecid Efendi, “Oğlum, sana bayraklı deli diyecekler” diye takılırdı.

Şehzade sert görünüşüne rağmen fevkalade eli açık ve merhametli bir insandı. Büyük kızı Neslişah Sultan’a da zaten hep “kızım âlicenap olacaksın” dermiş. Nice’te cami olmadığından Osmanlı hanedanından vefat edenlerin cenazesini, kadınsa Sabiha Sultan, erkekse Faruk Efendi yıkardı.

Zor Zamanlar ve Kızların Evliliği

1938’de Avrupa’da yeni bir savaş çıkacak endişesiyle ve evlenme çağına gelmiş kızlarına münasip Müslüman talipler bulma maksadıyla Faruk Efendi ailesiyle beraber Mısır’a taşındı. Hakikaten de Faruk Efendi’nin korktuğu olmuş 1939 eylülünde 2.Dünya Savaşı başlamıştı. Savaş başlayınca bankalarla irtibat kesildi, Paris’te yaşayan Halife oğluna para gönderemez oldu. Ailenin bu maddi sıkıntıdan kurtulmasının tek çaresi kızların iyi evlilikler yapmasıydı. Bu vesileyle 1940 senesinde 1 hafta arayla önce Hanzade Sultan sonrada Neslişah Sultan evlendi. İkisi de kendilerinden yaşça büyük Mısırlı prenslerle evlendiler. 

Bir Evliliğin Sonu ve İkinci Bahar

Kızların evlenmesinden birkaç sene sonra büyük bir aşkla evlenen Sabiha Sultan ve Faruk Efendi’nin evliliği üzerinde kara bulutlar gezinmeye başladı. Üç kızını da evlendirmiş, artık torun sahibi olmuş Faruk Efendi 28 senelik evliliğine son vererek 1948’de Sabiha Sultan’ı boşadı.

Ardından kısa bir zaman sonra amcası Yusuf İzzeddin Efendi’nin kızı Mihrişah Sultan’la evlendi. Bu cihetten iki sultanla evlenmiş tek şehzade Ömer Faruk Efendi’dir. İleri ki yıllarda Faruk Efendi kalp krizi, böbrek yetmezliği gibi çok ciddi rahatsızlıklar geçirdi, neredeyse ölümden döndü. Bu dönemde ikinci eşi olan Mihrişah Sultan kendisine çok iyi baktı, bu sebeple Neslişah Sultan babasıyla aralarında geçen tatsız hadiselere rağmen “Mihrişah Sultan’a hep medyun-u şükran duydum, babama çok iyi baktı” derdi.

Fakat hastalıkları atlattıktan sonra Faruk Efendi Mihrişah Sultan’dan da boşandı. Mihrişah Sultan İstanbul’a dönüp ikinci bir evlilik yaptı ve ikinci evliliği de bittikten sonra Taksim’de kuzini Fatma Gevheri Sultan’la beraber yaşadı. 

Vatan Hasreti İçinde Geçen Son Yıllar

Faruk Efendi biriktirdiği az bir miktar parayla İskenderiye’de deniz kenarında mütevazi bir ev yaptırmıştı. Burda tek meşgalesi balık tutmak, Türkiye’den gelen kitapları okumak ve küçük bir el radyosundan Türkiye haberlerini dinlemekti. Kızı Hanzade Sultan’ın Paris’ten gönderdiği parayla hayatını devam ettiriyordu. Masasında hep bir kavanoz içinde vatan toprağı ve ay yıldızlı bayrak duruyordu. Faruk Efendi alafranga görüntüsüne rağmen hususi yaşamında tıpkı büyük dedesi Sultan II. Mahmud gibi Şark usulü yaşamayı severdi. Neslişah Sultan babasının et ve pilavsız sofraya oturmadığını, sakatat yemeyi çok sevdiğini, “tatlının şerbeti boğazımı yakmalı” dediğini anlatırdı. Hanedandan Türkiye’ye kavuşmayı en çok isteyenlerden biri de Faruk Efendi’ydi, son senelerinde Prens Abbas Halim’in İskenderiye’deki evinde misafir olarak yaşadı.

Bir zamanların İstanbul’un da kadın erkek herkeslerin hayran olduğu o yakışıklı, uzun boylu, entelektüel asker şehzade 28 Mart 1969 gecesi 71 yaşında memleket hasreti içinde yaşama veda etti. Vefat ettiğinde şehzadelerin Türkiye’ye dönmesine müsaade eden kanun henüz çıkmamıştı. En büyük hayali İstanbul’da ölüp orada gömülebilmekti. Devamlı masasının üstünde duran vatan toprağının ölünce kabrine konulmasını vasiyet etmişti.

Faruk Efendi vefat ettiğinde o sırada İstanbul’da yaşayan Sabiha Sultan kendisine baş sağlığına gelmeyenlerle selamı sabahı kesti. Neslişah Sultan “anne boşanmıştınız, niçin baş sağlığına gelsinler” diyince, “evet kızım boşanmıştık lâkin amcazadem oluyordu onun içün gelmeleri gerekirdi” demişti. Fakat hakikat şuydu: Onca yaşananlara rağmen Sabiha Sultan hâlâ Faruk Efendi’ye âşıktı. Zaten vefatından önce de Mısır’dan gelen her tanıdığını sıkıştırır “Faruk nasıl ?” diye sorarmış.

Faruk Efendi’nin na’şı 1977’de büyük kızı Neslişah Sultan tarafından Mısır’dan İstanbul’a nakledildi. Büyük babası Sultan Abdülaziz’in de medfun bulunduğu Sultan II. Mahmud Türbesi’ne defnedildi.

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By Ethan Zelko-Yılmaz
From: Paris
Attending: Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes – Université PSL Paris
Age: 22 years old

English & Turkish Translation

This document presents the results of pioneering research into an icon of Turkish duality, namely Islam and Mongolian heritage. From the steppe to the crescent, the pseudomorphoses of civilisation from nascent to declining; as the French orientalist René Guénon so aptly put it. The arrival of the Mongols on the sedentary peoples, although dramatic, obviously left its mark on the region. Once the horde had passed, there’s more to it than just the military expression.

The Hoca Ahmed Yasavi, born in 11th century Sayrām (today Kazakhstan) – died in Yasī (today Turkmenistan), is the man who reconciled Islam with steppe culture. He is the founder of the first Turkish brotherhood (tariqa), the Yasaviyya, and had a profound impact on the religious landscape of Central Asia, where his influence has continued down the centuries. His spiritual legacy also played a decisive role in the formation and evolution of Alevism, testifying to the extent of his impact on the mystical traditions of the region.

Background

The history of Turkic civilization is not merely a succession of military conquests and dynastic empires. It is, fundamentally, a process of spiritual transformation. At the heart of this evolution lies the intersection of Islam and the nomadic traditions of the Eurasian steppe – a synthesis that would leave a deep imprint on the religious landscape of Central Asia and Anatolia. 

This synthesis is perhaps best personified in the figure of Hoca Ahmed Yasavi in Farsi احمد یسوی, (c. 1093–1166), a mystic who did not merely preach Islam to the Turkic peoples but rearticulated it in a form native to their historical consciousness. 

Moreover, his influence is foundational in the Islamisation of the Turkic peoples of the steppe. Through vernacular poetry and public preaching, he propagated a vision of Islam that was accessible, emotionally resonant, and adaptable to nomadic traditions. Yasavi’s method contrasted with more scholastic and legalistic Islam as the Iraqi Hanbalites, instead offering an experiential and egalitarian path to the divine, aligned with the spiritual instincts of Turkic and Mongol tribes.

Legacy and the Roots of Alevism

Yasavi’s impact did not remain confined to Central Asia. His teachings, transmitted through successive generations of disciples and itinerant dervishes, profoundly shaped the mystical and religious landscape of Anatolia, particularly during the Seljuk and early Ottoman periods. These spiritual agents—often known as abdāl, baba, or qalandar—acted as cultural bridges, carrying Yasavi’s syncretic approach into a region already marked by religious diversity and political instability.

Their influence contributed to the development of heterodox Islamic movements such as Alevism and Bektashism, both of which integrated pre-Islamic Turkic customs—such as ancestor veneration, the sacredness of nature, and shamanic healing practices—with the metaphysical framework of Sufi Islam. For example, the Bektashi order, formally institutionalized during the Ottoman Empire, retained many Yasavi-style teachings, including reverence for Ali as a cosmic principle, initiation rituals, and the symbolic use of the number twelve, referring to the Twelve Imams.

Alevism, in particular, reflects many of the foundational principles Yasavi advocated: inner purification over external legalism, veneration of saints (evliya), and a communal, egalitarian structure of religious life. For instance, the cem ceremony—central to Alevi communal worship—combines sacred music played on the bağlama (a long-necked lute), the chanting of devotional poetry (nefes), and the semah, a ritual dance representing spiritual ascent and cosmic harmony. These elements echo the Yasaviyya’s use of Turkish vernacular hymns (hikmet), public spiritual gatherings, and affective devotional practices to create an accessible, emotionally resonant form of Islam.

Moreover, Alevi spiritual guides (dede or pir), much like Yasavi himself, function as mediators between the sacred and the communal, emphasizing personal ethical transformation over juridical compliance. This transmission of Yasavi’s spiritual model into Anatolian soil reveals not merely a diffusion of doctrine but a sedimentation of worldview—a cultural stratigraphy in which older nomadic and mystical patterns persist beneath and within Islamic forms.

In this sense, Yasavi’s legacy mediated not only between cultural systems but also between historical traumas: the Mongol invasions, the marginalization of non-Sunni groups, and the centralization of religious authority under empires. His influence empowered communities to retain a sense of spiritual autonomy and cultural continuity, even under political subjugation. Thus, from the steppes of Turkestan to the mountain villages of Anatolia, Yasavi’s voice reverberates not simply as a transmitter of Islam, but as an architect of a lived, syncretic spirituality.

Pseudomorphosis and Civilizational Transformation

The concept of pseudomorphosis, borrowed from René Guénon and later elaborated by thinkers like Oswald Spengler, is particularly useful in understanding the Turkish case. It refers to a situation in which an older cultural or civilizational form persists beneath a newer ideological or institutional superstructure—creating the appearance of transformation while preserving deep structural continuities. In this light, the endurance of steppe values—tribal loyalty, charismatic authority, martial ethics, and ecstatic spirituality—within outwardly Islamic frameworks can be understood as a kind of cultural stratigraphy ¹.

In the Turkish context, this pseudomorphic layering is especially evident in the enduring fusion of religious and political authority. The ghazi ethos, for instance—embodying the spiritualized warrior in service of Islam—combines both steppe martial traditions and Sufi ideals of self-transcendence. The figure of the warrior-saint,exemplified by historical icons like Hacı Bektaş Veli or Battal Gazi, symbolizes a dual inheritance: fierce tribal independence alongside mystical submission to the divine. Similarly, the widespread reverence for both the warrior-leader (alp) and the contemplative dervish (eren) reflects this hybrid ideal, which continues to shape Turkish political culture, collective memory, and religious identity today.

The encounter between Islam and the Mongol-Turkic world produced more than trauma; it catalyzed a profound religious and cultural metamorphosis. At the heart of this lies the legacy of Hoca Ahmed Yasavi, whose teachings exemplify the enduring blend of mysticism and martial ethos that defines much of Turkish spiritual history. His enduring relevance in Alevism and broader Turkish Sufism is a testament to the power of syncretic adaptation—a transformation that began not in the great cities of Islam, but on the wind-swept steppes where the crescent met the horseman.

Conclusion

The restoration of Hoca Ahmed Yasavi’s mausoleum in 2006 under the impetus of the Turkish Agency for Cooperation and Development (TİKA) stimulated renewed interest in this extraordinary figure in the spiritual history of Turkish-speaking peoples². 

Today, Ahmed Yesevî’s tomb remains an active place of pilgrimage, visited in all seasons. Particularly during the month of Zilhicce, sumptuous ceremonies are organized here by Turkmen, Uzbeks, Kazakhs and Kirghiz. It is believed that those who rest near his tomb will benefit from his intercession, which leads many Kyrgyz and Kazakh families to bury their deceased there.

Footnotes

1Refers to the idea that layers of older cultural beliefs, practices, or identities remain beneath newer ones—much like layers of sediment in geology—revealing how past traditions continue to shape the present.

2 https://tika.gov.tr/wp-content/uploads/2017/YAYINLAR/Faaliyet%20Raporlar%C4%B1/2004/2004%20TIKA_Faaliyet.pdf page 37.

Turkish Translation

Bozkırdan Hilâle: Hoca Ahmed Yesevî’nin Manevî ve Medenî Mirası

Öz

Bu belge, Türk ikiliğinin bir simgesi olan İslam ve Moğol mirası üzerine yapılan öncü araştırmanın sonuçlarını sunmaktadır. Fransız oryantalist René Guénon’un çok yerinde bir şekilde ifade ettiği gibi, bozkırdan hilale, doğuştan çöküşe medeniyetin sözde biçimlenişleri. Moğolların yerleşik halkların üzerine gelişi, dramatik olmasına rağmen, açıkça bölgede iz bıraktı. Sürü geçtikten sonra, sadece askeri ifadeden daha fazlası vardır.

Hoca Ahmed Yesevi, 11. yüzyılda Sayrām’da (bugün Kazakistan) doğdu – Yasī’de (bugün Türkmenistan) öldü, İslam ile bozkır kültürünü uzlaştıran adamdır. İlk Türk kardeşliği (tarikatı) olan Yasaviyye’nin kurucusudur ve etkisi yüzyıllar boyunca devam eden Orta Asya’nın dini manzarası üzerinde derin bir etkiye sahiptir. Onun manevi mirası, Aleviliğin oluşumunda ve evriminde de belirleyici bir rol oynamış ve bölgenin mistik gelenekleri üzerindeki etkisinin boyutunu kanıtlamıştır.

Geçmiş

Türk uygarlığının tarihi, sadece askerî fetihlerin ve hanedan imparatorluklarının bir silsilesi değildir. Esasen, bu tarihsel süreç, derin bir ruhsal dönüşüm sürecidir. Bu evrimin merkezinde, İslam ile Avrasya bozkırının göçebe geleneklerinin kesişimi yer alır—ve bu sentez, Orta Asya ile Anadolu’nun dini manzarasında derin bir iz bırakmıştır.

Bu sentezin belki de en iyi vücut bulmuş hali, Hoca Ahmed Yesevî (Farsça: احمد یسوی, yaklaşık 1093–1166) şahsiyetinde görülür. Yesevî, sadece İslam’ı Türk halklarına tebliğ etmekle kalmamış, aynı zamanda onu onların tarihsel bilinçlerine uygun, yerli bir biçimde yeniden dile getirmiştir.

Üstelik onun etkisi, bozkır Türklerinin İslamlaşmasında kurucu bir rol oynamıştır. Halkın diliyle yazdığı şiirler ve halka açık vaazlarıyla, İslam’ı ulaşılabilir, duygusal olarak etkileyici ve göçebe geleneklerle uyumlu bir şekilde sunmuştur. Yesevî’nin yöntemi, Iraklı Hanbelîler gibi daha skolastik ve hukukçu İslam anlayışlarından ayrılır; bunun yerine, deneyimsel ve eşitlikçi bir ilahi yola öncülük eder ve bu yol, Türk ve Moğol boylarının manevi eğilimleriyle uyumludur.

Miras ve Aleviliğin Kökleri

Yesevî’nin etkisi Orta Asya ile sınırlı kalmamıştır. Onun öğretileri, ardılları ve seyyah dervişler aracılığıyla nesiller boyunca aktarılmış; özellikle Selçuklu ve erken Osmanlı dönemlerinde Anadolu’nun mistik ve dini yapısını derinden şekillendirmiştir. Bu manevi öncüler—abdâl, baba ya da kalender olarak bilinenler—Yesevî’nin senkretik yaklaşımını, zaten dini çeşitlilik ve siyasal istikrarsızlıkla yoğrulmuş bir bölgeye taşımışlardır.

Bu etki, Alevilik ve Bektaşilik gibi heterodoks İslami hareketlerin gelişimine katkı sağlamıştır. Bu hareketler, İslam öncesi Türk geleneklerini—atalara saygı, doğanın kutsallığı ve şamanik şifa pratikleri gibi—Sufi İslam’ın metafizik yapısıyla harmanlamışlardır. Örneğin, Osmanlı döneminde kurumsallaşan Bektaşi tarikatı, Yesevî tarzı birçok öğretiyi sürdürmüş; Ali’ye kozmik bir ilke olarak duyulan hürmet, inisiyasyon ritüelleri ve On İki İmam’a atıfta bulunan sembolik unsurlar bu anlayışta varlığını sürdürmüştür.

Alevilik ise, Yesevî’nin savunduğu birçok temel ilkeyi doğrudan yansıtır: dışsal hukuktan ziyade içsel arınma, evliyaya saygı ve toplumsal, eşitlikçi bir dini hayat yapısı. Örneğin, Alevi ibadetinin merkezi olan cem töreni; bağlama eşliğinde kutsal müzik, nefes adı verilen ilahi şiirlerin söylenmesi ve semah adı verilen, kozmik uyumu ve ruhsal yükselişi simgeleyen ritüel dansı içerir. Bu unsurlar, Yeseviyye’nin halk diliyle söylediği hikmetler, toplu manevi toplantılar ve duygusal bağlılığa dayalı ibadet pratiklerini yansıtır.

Ayrıca, Alevi inanç önderleri olan dede veya pir’ler, tıpkı Yesevî gibi, kutsal ile toplum arasında birer aracı olarak işlev görür; hukuki uyumdan ziyade kişisel ahlaki dönüşümü vurgularlar. Yesevî’nin bu manevi modelinin Anadolu toprağına taşınması, yalnızca bir doktrin aktarımı değil, aynı zamanda bir dünya görüşünün yerleşmesidir—yani İslami formların içinde ve altında varlığını sürdüren eski göçebe ve mistik kalıpların birikimi olarak görülebilecek kültürel bir stratigrafidir1.

Bu anlamda, Yesevî’nin mirası yalnızca kültürel sistemler arasında değil, tarihsel travmalar arasında da bir aracılık sunar: Moğol istilaları, Sünni olmayan grupların dışlanması ve imparatorluklarca dini otoritenin merkezileştirilmesi gibi süreçlerde. Onun etkisi, topluluklara siyasal baskı altında bile manevi özerklik ve kültürel süreklilik duygusunu koruma gücü vermiştir. Bu nedenle, Türkistan bozkırlarından Anadolu’nun dağ köylerine kadar Yesevî’nin sesi, yalnızca bir İslam taşıyıcısı olarak değil, yaşanmış ve senkretik bir maneviyatın mimarı olarak yankılanmaktadır.

Psödomorfizm ve Uygarlık Dönüşümü

René Guénon’dan ödünç alınan ve daha sonra Oswald Spengler gibi düşünürlerce geliştirilen psödomorfizm kavramı, Türk örneğini anlamakta özellikle işlevseldir. Bu kavram, eski bir kültürel ya da uygarlığa ait yapıların, yeni bir ideolojik ya da kurumsal üst yapının altında varlığını sürdürmesini ifade eder—görünürde bir dönüşüm yaşanırken, yapısal sürekliliklerin korunması anlamına gelir. Bu açıdan bakıldığında, bozkır değerlerinin—kabile sadakati, karizmatik otorite, savaşçı etik ve vecd hâlindeki maneviyatın—görünüşte İslami çerçeveler içinde devam etmesi, kültürel bir stratigrafi olarak değerlendirilebilir.

Türk bağlamında bu psödomorfik katmanlaşma, dini ve siyasi otoritenin sürekli iç içe geçmesiyle kendini gösterir. Örneğin, gazi ethosu—İslam uğruna savaşan ruhani savaşçı anlayışı—hem bozkırın savaşçı geleneklerini hem de Sufi özveri ideallerini birleştirir. Hacı Bektaş Veli veya Battal Gazi gibi tarihî figürlerde cisimleşen savaşçı-veli tipi, hem sert kabile özgürlüğünü hem de ilahi teslimiyeti yansıtan ikili bir mirası temsil eder. Alp (savaşçı lider) ile eren (derviş) figürlerine duyulan yaygın saygı, bu melez ideali günümüz Türk siyasi kültürünü, kolektif hafızasını ve dini kimliğini şekillendirmeye devam etmektedir.

İslam ile Moğol-Türk dünyasının karşılaşması yalnızca travmalar doğurmamış; aynı zamanda derin bir dini ve kültürel dönüşümü tetiklemiştir. Bu dönüşümün merkezinde, mistisizm ile savaşçı ethosun kalıcı birleşimini temsil eden Hoca Ahmed Yesevî’nin mirası yer alır. Alevilik ve genel olarak Türk tasavvufundaki kalıcı etkisi, bu senkretik uyumun gücüne bir tanıklıktır—öyle bir dönüşüm ki, İslam’ın büyük şehirlerinde değil, hilalin süvarilerle buluştuğu rüzgârlı bozkırlarda başlamıştır.

Çözüm

2006 yılında Türk İşbirliği ve Kalkınma Ajansı (TİKA) tarafından başlatılan Hoca Ahmed Yesevî Türbesi’nin restorasyonu, bu olağanüstü manevi şahsiyet hakkında Türkçe konuşan halklar arasında yeniden bir ilgi dalgası yaratmıştır.

Günümüzde Ahmed Yesevî’nin türbesi, yılın her mevsimi ziyaret edilen aktif bir ziyaretgâh olmayı sürdürmektedir2. Özellikle Zilhicce ayında, Türkmenler, Özbekler, Kazaklar ve Kırgızlar tarafından burada görkemli törenler düzenlenmektedir. Türbenin yanında ebedî istirahate çekilenlerin, Yesevî’nin manevi şefaatinden fayda göreceğine inanılmakta; bu nedenle pek çok Kırgız ve Kazak ailesi, vefat eden yakınlarını burada defnetmeyi tercih etmektedir.

Notlar

1 Geolojideki tortul katmanlara benzer biçimde, eski kültürel inançların, uygulamaların veya kimliklerin daha yenilerinin altında varlığını sürdürdüğü fikrine atıfta bulunur. Bu katmanlar, geçmiş geleneklerin günümüzü nasıl şekillendirmeye devam ettiğini gözler önüne serer.
2 https://tika.gov.tr/wp-content/uploads/2017/YAYINLAR/Faaliyet%20Raporlar%C4%B1/2004/2004%20TIKA_Faaliyet.pdf sayfa 37

Some images used on this blog are sourced from the internet and are assumed to be in the public domain. We make every effort to ensure proper attribution, but if you are the owner of an image and believe it has been used without proper permission, please contact us so we can give proper credit or remove the image as requested.

By Yavuz Tandoğan
From: Trabzon
Attending: Boğaziçi University, İstanbul
Age: 21 years old

Introduction

Crete, the largest island of modern Greece, stretches like a narrow strip along the southernmost edge of the Aegean Sea. Today, it is recognized as one of the Mediterranean’s most prominent tourist destinations, celebrated for its natural beauty, archaeological heritage, and cultural diversity. Throughout its long history, the island has come under the control of numerous civilizations, evolving into a key port and trade center frequented by peoples of diverse origins. Its cultural environment, shaped by this multilayered past, reflects elements of Mycenaean, Minoan, Roman, Hellenic, Byzantine, and to a lesser extent, Arab influence. During the Middle Ages and into the early modern period, this cultural foundation was further enriched by a pronounced Venetian presence. The final contribution came with Ottoman rule, which added another dimension to the island’s cultural synthesis and gave rise to the distinctive Cretan identity that still endures as a unique expression of Mediterranean heritage. 

In the 17th century, Crete’s geopolitical and economic significance placed it at the center of escalating Ottoman-Venetian tensions, which ultimately led to a prolonged military campaign that paved the way for the island’s eventual integration into the Ottoman realm.

The Conquest of the Island by the Ottomans

During the early 17th century, the island of Crete remained under Venetian control, despite rising tensions between Venice and the Ottoman Empire. The Venetian authorities had failed to fulfill their tax obligations pledged during the reign of Sultan Murad IV. Moreover, the governor of Crete was complicit in aiding pirate factions operating in the Aegean Sea, whose activities directly undermined Ottoman maritime trade and regional security.[1] In response to these provocations, Sultan Ibrahim ordered a military campaign to seize the island, appointing his son-in-law, Silahdar Yusuf Pasha, to lead the offensive. In 1645, a combined Ottoman naval force, comprising 80 galleys accompanied by an additional 50 ships from the Algerian fleet, launched an assault on the city of Chania, located in the western part of Crete.

After a siege lasting two months, the city was successfully captured. This victory sparked widespread celebrations in Istanbul.[2] The campaign subsequently advanced eastward under the leadership of Gazi Hüseyin Pasha, who had been appointed governor of Crete.[3] In 1646, he successfully seized Rethymno and spent the winter there with the army.[4] The long-term objective of the campaign, however, was the capture of Candia, the administrative and military center of Venetian Crete. Concurrently, the Venetian blockade of the Dardanelles disrupted Ottoman supply lines, and the expected reinforcements failed to arrive, rendering the conquest of the city unachievable at that stage.[5] Isolated due to internal developments in the capital, such as a change in sultanate, and logistical constraints, Hüseyin Pasha nevertheless managed to maintain control over the previously captured territories and effectively besieged the Venetians within Candia Castle.[6]

In 1657, the Ottoman fleet under the command of Grand Vizier Köprülü Mehmed Pasha broke the Venetian blockade and reestablished control over the Dardanelles.[7] Despite this success, the protracted siege of Candia could not be prioritized due to the concurrent military engagements with Austria. Following the cessation of hostilities on the Austrian front, Grand Vizier Fazıl Ahmet Pasha assembled a renewed expedition in 1667, departing from Istanbul with the navy, which was subsequently reinforced by the Egyptian fleet en route to Crete.[8] The ensuing military confrontations around Candia were intense and drawn out, lasting nearly a year. Despite sustained efforts, the fortress remained unconquered. This was largely due to military assistance provided to Venice by France, the Knights of Malta, and the Papal States. Consequently, the Ottomans postponed further assaults, choosing instead to bolster their forces and wait out the winter.[9] Hostilities resumed in the following season with renewed vigor. Over time, discord within the enemy coalition led to the withdrawal of the French, significantly weakening Venetian resistance. Realizing that they could no longer hold out, the Venetian forces offered peace and the city of Candia was ultimately surrendered to the Ottoman army in 1669, bringing an end to one of the longest sieges in history and marking the complete Turkish conquest of Crete.[10] Following the capitulation, the Ottomans undertook efforts to rebuild and revitalize Candia, which had fallen into disrepair, while also granting the island’s minority populations the right to own property. Unlike in many other provinces of the empire, the timar system was never introduced in Crete.

Cretan Muslims

In his 17th-century accounts, the English diplomat and historian Paul Rycaut observes that the Orthodox Christian population perceived the Ottoman arrival as a liberation from the repressive governance of Roman Catholic Italian authorities. He further notes that this shift in power led a portion of the island’s native population to gradually convert to Islam.[11] These individuals, known today as Cretan Turks, were in fact ethnic Greeks who adopted Islam over time. There was no considerable migration from the Ottoman mainland to Crete, nor was there a pre-existing Muslim community on the island.[12] By the early 19th century, it is estimated that approximately half of Crete’s population was Muslim.[13] However, this proportion steadily declined due to growing hostility and acts of persecution by the island’s Christian Greeks. The Muslim presence on Crete came to a definitive end in 1923 with the compulsory population exchange formalized by the Turkish and Greek governments, resulting in the resettlement of the island’s remaining Muslim inhabitants.[14] Many of them eventually settled along the Aegean and Mediterranean coasts of Turkey, particularly in towns such as Ayvalık and Bodrum, as well as in major cities like İzmir and Adana. In addition to these communities, earlier waves of Cretan Muslim migrants who had relocated to Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Libya, and Egypt also constitute a substantial segment of the Cretan Muslim population and are often regarded as part of today’s broader Turkish diaspora.

Political Events in Ottoman Crete

The first remarkable turmoil on the island of Crete emerged during the Russo-Turkish War of 1768–1774, as part of a series of rebellions across the Aegean instigated by Russians. This initial revolt was swiftly suppressed by Ottoman forces.[15] Throughout the 19th century, Cretan Greeks, motivated by a long-standing desire for unification with Greece and increasingly influenced by the rise of nationalist ideology, repeatedly rebelled against Ottoman rule. A major revolt erupted in 1821, coinciding with the outbreak of the Greek War of Independence. In response, the Ottoman government sought military assistance from the powerful governor of Egypt, Kavalalı Mehmed Ali Pasha. With Egyptian support, the uprising was rapidly quelled.[16] A second major insurrection occurred in 1831, following the establishment of an independent Greek state. Once again, Egyptian forces intervened and succeeded in restoring Ottoman control.[17] As part of the subsequent power struggle between Istanbul and Cairo, Crete was temporarily ceded to Egyptian administration. However, after the British intervention on behalf of the Ottoman Empire, Egyptian forces were defeated and under the terms of the 1840 Treaty of London, Egypt agreed to withdraw, and Crete was formally returned to Ottoman sovereignty.[18]

In 1866, a new uprising was launched by Cretan Greeks, who asserted that the reform program previously promised to non-Muslim subjects, under European guarantees, had not been put into effect.[19] Anticipating patronage from Britain, France, and Russia, approximately 12,000 armed Greek separatists began attacking and massacring Muslim communities across the island. In response, the Ottoman Empire, invoking the principle of territorial integrity as outlined in the Treaty of Paris (1856), declared that any foreign intervention in the matter would be regarded as interference in its domestic affairs. To address the crisis, Mustafa Naili Pasha was appointed governor of Crete and dispatched to the island.[20] Although Ottoman forces conducted successful military operations against the insurgents, a decisive outcome could not be achieved.[21] Meanwhile, the favorable diplomatic atmosphere generated by Sultan Abdulaziz’s European tour, combined with the firm stance of Ottoman statesmen on the Cretan issue, pressured the European powers into backing down.[22] Thereafter, a ceasefire was declared. Subsequently, Grand Vizier Mehmed Emin Âli Pasha personally traveled to Crete, where he implemented a series of conciliatory measures.[23] These included tax reductions and the establishment of local administrative councils composed of both Christian and Muslim representatives.[24] 

However, in 1875, the Greeks launched yet another revolt. Following the Ottoman Empire’s defeat in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–78, substantial new rights were granted to non-Muslim populations under the provisions of the Pact of Halepa. As part of these concessions, Crete was granted a semi-autonomous status, and its administration was entrusted to Christian pashas. In the ensuing years, the island experienced growing unrest, largely fueled by armed groups targeting the Muslim population. In an effort to restore order, the Ottoman government deployed military forces to Crete.[25] Sultan Abdulhamid II, responding to the escalating violence, went a step further by declaring martial law on the island, in defiance of European diplomatic pressure. 

The increasingly volatile atmosphere on Crete culminated in the major Cretan rebellion of 1895. As armed Greek insurgents intensified their attacks, large numbers of Muslims were forced to flee their homes and seek refuge in major cities such as Chania and Candia. Aiming to accelerate the annexation of the island, the Greek government deployed 10,000 troops under the command of Prince George. In the wake of this intervention, violence against the Muslim population escalated significantly. To prevent direct Ottoman military involvement and stabilize the situation, a multinational fleet namely the International Squadron, comprising British, French, Russian, Italian, German, and Austro-Hungarian naval forces, was deployed to the island. The intervention successfully halted the widespread violence. Although the Allied powers advocated for the full-scale evacuation of the Muslim population from Crete, the Ottoman government firmly rejected the proposal. Instead, the remaining Muslim inhabitants withdrew behind designated safe zones under protection.[26]

Dissatisfied with the outcome in Crete, Greece began provoking tensions along the Ottoman border. In response, the Ottoman Empire declared war on Greece. The conflict quickly turned in favor of the Ottomans; after inflicting a decisive defeat on Greek forces and advancing toward Athens, the Ottoman army halted its offensive following Russian diplomatic intervention, which led to the declaration of a ceasefire.[27] In the negotiations that followed, Crete’s autonomous status was formally recognized, and the island’s continued allegiance to the Ottoman Empire was reaffirmed. It was agreed that a Christian governor would be appointed to administer the island for a period of five years. In the aftermath of the conflict, Ottoman troops departed from Crete entirely. Sultan Abdulhamid II established the city of Al-Hamidiyah on the Mediterranean coast, within the territory of present-day Syria, as a refuge for some Cretan Muslims. Named in honor of the Sultan, Al-Hamidiyah remains predominantly inhabited by descendants of these migrants, and the Cretan Greek dialect is still widely spoken within the community today.

In 1905, a political dispute emerged between the island’s High Commissioner, Prince George, and Cretan cabinet member Eleftherios Venizelos, who would later serve as Prime Minister of Greece, regarding the island’s annexation to Greece. A strong proponent of enosis (union with Greece), Venizelos launched the Theriso Rebellion shortly after his dismissal.[28] However, lacking the expected support from the Greek government, the uprising was brought under control through the intervention of the European powers. Following these developments, Prince George resigned from his post, and former Greek Prime Minister Alexandros Zaimis was appointed as the new High Commissioner.[29]

In 1908, during Zaimis’s absence abroad, the Cretan Assembly unilaterally declared union with Greece. This move was intended as a preemptive measure against the potential rise of nationalist policies following the proclamation of constitutional monarchy in the Ottoman Empire. The declaration of union was not immediately recognized by the Greek government. It was only ratified by the Greek Parliament upon the outbreak of the First Balkan War.[30] The final and legal annexation of Crete was accepted by the Ottoman government as a consequence of its defeat in the Balkan Wars. In 1913, Crete officially ceased to be an Ottoman territory, marking the end of 268 years of Turkish rule on the island.[31]

Ottoman Legacy in Crete

Over the course of more than two centuries of Ottoman rule, Crete underwent a series of developments. The ports of Chania and Candia were repaired and new shipyards in Souda were established. Numerous fountains, mosques, baths, and madrasahs (religious schools) were built across the island, contributing to its urban landscape and social life. Notable examples of Ottoman religious architecture in Crete include the Hamidiye, Kara Musa Pasha, Küçük Hasan Pasha, Valide Sultan, Veli Pasha, and Yeni mosques, along with the Chania Mevlevi Lodge, an Islamic sufi center. The Topana and Rethymno hammams exemplify the Ottoman bathhouse tradition on the island, while the Rethymno Girls’ Junior High School (Resmo Kız Rüştiyesi) stands as a representative of the empire’s educational modernization efforts during the Tanzimat period.

Notes

[1] Solakzade Tarihi, vol. II, p. 563; Naîmâ, Tarih, vol. IV, p.92.

[2] Solakzade Tarihi, vol. II, pp. 564-565; Naîmâ, Tarih, vol. IV, pp. 129-150; Tayyib Gökbilgin, İbrahim, vol. II, p. 882.

[3] Solakzade Tarihi, vol. II, pp. 566-567; Münir Aktepe, Mehmed Paşa (Sultanzade, Civan, Kapıcıbaşı), vol. VII, pp. 606-607.

[4] İsmet Parmaksızoğlu, Hüseyin Paşa (Deli), vol. I, pp. 652-653; Cemal Kukin, Girit, vol. I, p. 974.

[5] İsmet Parmaksızoğlu, Hüseyin Paşa (Deli), vol. I, pp. 652-653; Cemal Kukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 794.

[6] İsmet Parmaksızoğlu, Hüseyin Paşa (Deli), vol. I, pp. 652-653.

[7] Solakzade Tarihi, vol. II, pp. 633-637; Vahid Çabuk, Köprülüler, pp. 27-35.

[8] Tayyib Gökbilgin, Köprülüler, vol. VI, p. 900.

[9] Tayyib Gökbilgin, Köprülüler, vol. VI, p. 900; Vahid Çabuk, Köprülüler, pp. 122-126.

[10] Silahtar Tarihi, vol. I, pp. 519-523; J. Von Hammer, Devlet-i Osmâniye Tarihi, vol. XI, pp. 220-223; Tayyib Gökbilgin, Köprülüler, vol. VI, p. 901.

[11] Nabil Matar, Islam in Britain (1558-1685), p. 25, Cambridge University Press.

[12] Molly Greene, A Shared World: Christians and Muslims in the Early Modern Mediterranean, p. 87, Princeton University Press, 2000.

[13] William Yale, The Near East: A Modern History, The University of Michigan Press, 1958.

[14] A. Lily Macrakis, Cretan Rebel: Eleftherios Venizelos in Ottoman Crete, Ph.D. Dissertation, Harvard University, 1983.

[15] Theocharis Detorakis, Turkish Rule in Crete, 1988.

[16] Vak’anüvis Ahmed Lütfi Efendi Tarihi, vol. X, pp. 114-115.

[17] Cemal Tukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 796.

[18] William Yale, The Near East: A Modern History, vol. IX, pp.129-145, The University of Michigan Press, 1958.

[19] Cemal Tukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 796; Enver Ziya Karal, Osmanlı Tarihi, vol. VII, pp. 17-18.

[20] Cemal Tukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 796-797; Enver Ziya Karal, Osmanlı Tarihi, vol. VIII, pp. 20-21.

[21] Cemal Tukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 797; Enver Ziya Karal, Osmanlı Tarihi, vol. VII, pp. 26-27.

[22] Vak’anüvis Ahmed Lütfi Efendi Tarihi, vol. XI, pp. 61-62; Enver Ziya Karal, Osmanlı Tarihi, vol. VII, pp. 25-26.

[23] Cemal Tukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 797; Enver Ziya Karal, Osmanlı Tarihi, vol. VII, pp. 26-27.

[24] Stanford J. Shaw, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu ve Modern Türkiye, vol. II, p. 193; Cemal Tukin, Girit, vol. IV, p. 797; A. H. Ongunsu, Âli Paşa (Mehmed Emin), vol. I, p. 338.

[25] Ahmet Şimşirgil, Kayı (Osmanlı Tarihi), vol. X, p.129.

[26] Ahmet Şimşirgil, Kayı (Osmanlı Tarihi), vol. X, p.129-130.

[27] Ahmet Şimşirgil, Kayı (Osmanlı Tarihi), vol. X, p.131-135.

[28] Jean Tulard, Histoire de la Crète, p. 117, University Press of France, 1979.

[29] Theocharis Detorakis, History of Crete, p. 416, Iraklion, 1994.

[30] Samuel B. Chester, Life of Venizelos, p.125, London, 1921.

[31] Robert Holland and Diane Markides, The British and the Hellenes: Struggles for Mastery in the Eastern Mediterranean 1850–1960, p. 81, Oxford University Press, 2005.

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