by Benny Morris
bankers.24
Before the rise of Armenian nationalism, very little connected the Arme-
nian notables of Constantinople to their compatriots in the countryside. The
two groups may have shared a belief system, a language, and a vague sense of
common ethnic origin, but any possibility of unity was undermined by the
economic and social chasms that lay between. Granted, the dichotomy was
not always sharp; Armenian communities in provincial town centers occupied
a middle ground. On the whole, though, the disparate experiences and
Nationalist Awakenings
trajectories of the two groups indicate the preeminence of class over ethnic
solidarity.25
Reform and Proto- Nationalism in Constantinople’s
Christian Communities
Ottoman Armenians and Greeks took diff er ent paths toward nationalism.
While Greeks could seek guidance and a sense of shared peoplehood from a
state beyond the empire’s shores, Armenians had to find their national bear-
ings within the empire. This resulted in relatively low- intensity agitation on
the part of Ottoman Greeks. Until the beginning of the twentieth century,
Ottoman Greeks were basically satisfied with the existence, in the distance,
of the Balkan Greek polity. They respected that state and were proud of its
achievements, but they did not see themselves as belonging to it. From the per-
spective of the Muslim elite, Greece was a part of the empire that had already
been given up.
In the Armenian case, on the other hand, there was no state, not even a lu-
cidly imagined one, and when an Armenian national movement fi nally mate-
rialized, the state it contemplated included heavi ly Armenian regions of the
empire: the six eastern vilayets and Cilicia. Some nationalists extended this
vision to encompass all of eastern Anatolia and the Caucasus, stretching from
the Mediterranean to the Black Sea. Such a state would dissect the empire,
severing Anatolia from the Arab provinces of Greater Syria and Mesopotamia
and separating the Ottomans from the Turkic peoples of central Asia. The
Ottoman elite thus regarded the Armenian “dream” as far more threatening
than anything the Ottoman Greeks might strive for.
The Greek Orthodox Church and faith long served as the glue binding the
Ottoman Greeks together. But during the last de cades of the nineteenth
century, urban Greeks increasingly looked toward Greece itself, which almost
none had ever seen, as a cultural beacon and source of pride. Critical to this
pro cess was “linguistic rehellenization.” Many Greeks, notably in Cappadocia,
spoke only Turkish.26 A vastly expanded Ottoman Greek school system would
teach them the Greek language and the culture associated with its speakers.27
The Kingdom of Greece was instrumental in this effort. Through its
expanding range of consulates, Greece exported cultural and, eventually,
Abdülhamid
II
po liti cal Hellenism to Anatolia.28 The first consulates were installed in the Ottoman Empire in the 1840s; by 1904, there were twenty- two.29 Consuls
toured the countryside, gave lectures, and dispensed Greek- language publi-
cations. They propagated both Greekness and the Megáli Idéa— the Great
Idea—of Greek geopo liti cal expansion. Consuls celebrated the ancient
Athenian and medieval Byzantine empires as models for the reestablishment
of a large Greek polity, perhaps with Constantinople as its capital, on the
eventual ruins of the Ottoman Empire. Under lying the Great Idea was also a
cultural mission “to civilize the East by rising against Ottoman rule, in the
manner of Christ’s rising to save the world,” as historian John S. Koliopoulos
puts it.30 In 1864 King George I of Greece was crowned king of the Hellenes,
hinting at these expansionist dreams and indicating the Greek state’s claim
to represent Greeks wherever they were. Athenian politicians spoke of saving
the “unredeemed portion of the Greek nation.”31 Koliopoulos writes that
most mainland Greeks “viewed the territorial settlement of 1830,” when the
Kingdom of Greece was established, “as nothing more than a temporary ar-
rangement. Successive Greek territorial gains were expected to keep pace
with Ottoman decline.”32
Beyond the official work of the Greek government and its consuls, mainland
cultural and linguistic clubs such as the Athens- based Association for the
Propagation of Greek Letters fostered the national awakening of the Ottoman
Greeks, much as Arab- language groups within the empire were concurrently
promoting Arab nationalist movements. In the 1880s the government in
Athens officially charged the association with “the supervision of educational
and national activities” among the Ottoman Greeks, effectively endorsing irre-
dentism.33 Teachers were sent from the mainland to the far reaches of Anatolia
and Anatolian youngsters were brought to Greece for study. Anatolian
teachers returning from Greece nationalized the curriculum of the com-
munity’s main religious college, the Halki Seminar on Heybeliada, near
Constantinople.34
Despite these efforts to instruct Ottoman Greeks in the Great Idea, their
nationalism was largely cultural rather than po liti cal. The expansion of literacy and the spread of nationalism among Ottoman Greeks had the “peasant and
merchant . . . say, parrot- wise, ‘I am a descendant of Pericles’,” in Arnold
Toynbee’s memorable phrase.35 But it didn’t have them fomenting rebellion.
Nationalist Awakenings
One moderating factor was the relatively open atmosphere in the Ottoman
Empire generated by the Tanzimat and its ideology of Ottomanism. This view
facilitated the spread of particularistic identities by holding that one could be
Ottoman while celebrating one’s Greek, Armenian, or other affiliations.36 For
some, this meant there need be no contradiction between Greek ethnicity and
Ottoman nationality. Moreover, in the de cades immediately preceding World
War I, the focus of official Greek irredentism was on Macedonia, not Asia
Minor.37 The Orthodox clergy also proved a tempering influence. Clerics de-
veloped the Greek school system and helped disseminate Greek culture and
language, but, until the beginning of the twentieth century, church higher- ups
opposed the propagation of pan- Hellenic nationalism as “irresponsible.”
Joachim III, who served as Greek Orthodox patriarch between 1878 and 1884
and again from 1901 until 1912, feared that the spread of nationalism would
undermine the position of the patriarchate and bring catastrophe down on
the Ottoman Greeks. But younger members of the fin de siècle Church
brass— such as Chrysostomos and Germanos, the future bishops of Smyrna
and Amasya, respectively— supported the Great Idea.38
Still, the spread of Greek nationalism in Asia Minor was slow and hesitant.39
As evidence, consider that between the 1820s’ Greek War of In de pen dence—
which might have provoked strong irredentist tendencies— and the fall of
Abdülhamid in 1909, Ottoman Greeks and Turks managed largely to avoid
confrontation.40 In 1863 the British consul in Smyrna predicted as much.
“The app
eal to arms will not have much impression upon the minds of the
[Greek] subjects of the Porte,” he anticipated.41 Greek nationalism in Asia
Minor may have appealed to “the most enlightened and liberal . . . the med-
ical, legal and literary” professionals and to the rising middle class, especially in large cities and provincial towns. But it was opposed by the “ancient [Greek]
nobility, the superior clergy, the lay dignitaries of the church, and the wealthy
merchants.”42 What ever the extent of nationalism’s hold on Ottoman Greeks
at the end of the nineteenth century, it failed to stir concrete po liti cal activism.
The trajectory of Ottoman Armenians would prove diff er ent. Armenian
nationalism was in its own way nurtured by outsiders, such as American mis-
sionaries. But it was motivated by domestic exigencies, not by a foreign king-
dom’s yearnings for a lost imperial glory. Whereas Greek nationalism was
cultural and intellectual— wistful, even— Armenian nationalism was much
Abdülhamid
II
more immediate, galvanized by urban Armenians’ growing awareness of the
wretched conditions under which their rural brothers and sisters lived. One
effect was a more conflictual relationship between the Ottoman state and Ar-
menian nationalists than that between the state and Greek nationalists, re-
sulting in the vio lence of the 1890s, years before the Turks systematically
turned their guns on the Greeks in their midst.
We can trace the initial development of Ottoman Armenian nationalism to
the Greek revolt of 1821. In response to that revolt, Constantinople stripped
Ottoman Greeks of titles and official responsibilities. Much of their influence
passed into the hands of the amiras. The amiras, in turn, used their increasing
wealth and authority to foster partnerships with the Armenian Patriarchate
in Constantinople: rich Ottoman Armenians would pay church expenses and
invest in philanthropy and education, and, in return, the patriarchate would
recognize the civil leadership of the amiras. Thus Pezciyan Amira, the director
of the imperial mint, renovated the patriarchal headquarters; built schools,
churches, and drinking fountains; and in 1833 Constantinople’s Holy Savior
Hospital. In recognition, the patriarch gave him the title of azgapet, designating the head of the community.43 A similar situation prevailed in other
cities, such as Smyrna.44 The fifty or so exclusively Armenian esnafs of
Constantinople also funneled money from guild taxes and donations to the
church and the community, increasing their power and esteem. Amiras and
esnafs competed for community leadership and in 1834 elected a joint
committee for the administration of the schools.45
These efforts mark clear steps in the evolution of national consciousness.
By committing their fortunes and influence to the concrete needs of Ottoman
Armenians, amiras and other notables helped to demarcate a distinct civic
community. In doing so, they asserted that Ottoman Armenians did not just
pray to the same God and perform the same religious rites but also consti-
tuted a social grouping that cared especially for its own in this life. At the same time, the imprimatur of the church helped to universalize the elites’ appeal,
affirming their roles as leaders not just of par tic u lar guilds and geo graph i cally bound populations but of Armenians generally.
At this point, during the first de cades of the nineteenth century, there was
still no Armenian in de pen dence movement. At most, elites sought a stronger
sense of community and additional civil liberties, perhaps culminating in
Nationalist Awakenings
equality with their Muslim neighbors. But the growth in civil leadership was
the beginning of an impor tant shift in power that facilitated nationalist ideas:
away from the patriarchate and toward lay authorities.
This shift was reinforced by the fracturing of the Armenian religious com-
munity, which had begun some years before the rise of the amiras. Starting in
the late eigh teenth century, vari ous Catholic clerics attempted to re unite the Armenian Church— also known as the Apostolic or Gregorian Church— and
the Catholic Church, from which it had parted in the fifth century.46 After a
small group of Armenians aligned itself with the Vatican, Pope Benedict XIV
formally recognized the Armenian Catholic Church. In 1829 the sultan gave
Catholic Armenians permission to form a separate millet and to appoint arch-
bishops of their own in Constantinople and Lebanon. In 1867 the two sees
would be united, with a patriarchal residence established in the capital along-
side the Gregorian Patriarchate, emphasizing the widening religious divisions
within the Ottoman Armenian community.47
At about the time the Catholic Armenian millet was formed, Protestant mis-
sionaries began making inroads among Gregorian Armenians. The sultan
prob ably would have preferred to keep these outsider missionaries away from
his subjects, but there was little he could do to prevent their admission. Caught in a tangle of geopo liti cal fears, debts, and strategic commitments to Eu ro pean patrons, the Ottoman elite was forced to acquiesce in these foreign inroads.
Thus, in the 1774 Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca, the tsar was recognized as the
official protector of all Orthodox communities in the Ottoman Empire. Soon
afterward France, the Ottomans’ main Eu ro pean strategic partner, was allowed
to intercede on behalf of the empire’s Catholics; the French frequently repre-
sented Catholic interests in the Holy Land and Lebanon. The missionary
presence would grow substantially, especially after the Crimean War. All the
government could do was ban the missionaries from targeting Muslims. As
long as the missionaries preached only to Jews and other Christians, the
Ottoman authorities regarded them with benevolent disdain.
The first Protestant missionaries were Anglicans admitted in the 1820s as
a condition of Britain’s agreement to provide Sultan Mahmud military assis-
tance. In the early 1830s, the Anglicans were joined by Americans sent by the
American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. The missionaries
or ga nized parishes, built churches, and established networks of schools,
Abdülhamid
II
hospitals, welfare institutions, and small industries throughout the empire,
with a focus on the Turkish heartland.48
This missionary activity caused a crisis in the Armenian community, as the
Gregorian Patriarchate excommunicated the converts to Protestantism. Some
of the new Protestants were forced out of their guild jobs or trades. But two
Tanzimat edicts, in 1847 and 1850, came to the converts’ aid by sanctioning
freedom of conscience and recognizing the Armenian Protestants as a new
millet, with a status akin to that of the Gregorians. The consequence was
continuing growth in the Protestant element and growing divisiveness in
the community as a whole. In the eastern provinces, where most Armenians
lived, there were about 1,300 Protestants in the 1860s. By 1914 there were
some 50,000 Protestant Armenians in the empire, most of them in eastern
Anatolia.49
The rise of Armenian Catholicism and Protestantism pushed the Grego-
&
nbsp; rian Patriarchate toward reform. The Gregorian Patriarchate had tradition-
ally invested little in education, but as dissentients multiplied, it responded
by establishing schools and colleges— with the aid of the amiras. Thus, in the
pro cess of asserting itself as spiritual leader, the patriarchate turned to civic institutions, further empowering them. At the same time, Tanzimat reforms
were elevating a civic sphere understood as explic itly distinct from religious
authority. Some of the new legal structures reduced the autonomy and pre-
rogatives of traditional religious- ethnic leaders. For example, Armenian pa-
triarchs were banned from exiling community members and inflicting corporal
punishments. And in 1840 the Armenian millet was required to establish a
council comprising four clerics and four amiras to conduct the millet’s affairs
and represent it in dealings with the government. Although the council was
appointed by the patriarch, it formalized power- sharing between religious
and lay leaders.50 This was followed by the 1847 imperial edict, which also
ordered the heads of the millets to elect two separate and in de pen dent
governing bodies, one civil and the other spiritual.
The new civic leadership, referred to as the Armenian National Assembly,
took its role seriously. In 1853 it founded the first Armenian Educational
Council, administered not by clerics but by fourteen lay gradu ates of Eu ro-
pean universities. Directing its efforts toward Armenian language reform, the
publication of Armenian lit er a ture, and the study of Armenian history, the
Nationalist Awakenings
council contributed perhaps more than any other institution to the growing
sense of national identity. In its first year, the council published an Armenian
grammar book by Nahapet Rusinian, one of the draf ters of the eventual Ar-
menian national constitution. The publication sought to replace the archaic
ritual syntax and lexicon with a modernized vernacular. The patriarch tried,
and failed, to ban Rusinian’s book and to bring the budding printing industry
under his control.
While Armenian communal leadership was taken over by the laity, the
younger generation increasingly came into contact with Western ideas. This