A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about a religious group in Turkey called the Dönme, after reading an article about them at Forward.com (Jewish news). Before reading that article, I had never heard of the Dönme, but after reading it, I was fascinated and wanted to find out more about them. Little over a week ago, a person who wishes to remain anonymous, sent me a lot of articles about them, hoping that they would help me understand the Dönme better. They most surely did, so here is my follow-up post (due to the length of my article, I have decided to publish in it two parts – part 2 about, among other things, their Lithurgy, Commandments, etc. and the endnotes – will be published tomorrow).
Because you all might not remember my first post on the Dönme, so here is a short introduction to who they are: they are the offspring of Jews who lived in the 17th century and were followers of rabbi Shabbatai Tzevi. Tzevi – and his followers – believed that he was the Jewish Messiah. The Ottoman rulers, however, were not very fond of the idea of having the Jewish Messiah among them and forced Tzevi to convert to Islam in 1666. Soon many of his followers followed suit and moved to Saloniki (then Ottoman, now Greek), where they lived for many generations.
Although they outwardly acted as all Muslims, they privately (or secretly better) “maintained a belief that Shabbatai Tzevi was the messiah, practiced kabbalistic rituals, and recited prayers in Hebrew and Judeo-Spanish.” [1] According to the descendents of the original Dönme living in Istanbul, “the Dönme in Salonika saw themselves as a community apart; fulfilling the commandments of Shabbatai Tzevi caused Dönme to only marry among themselves, avoid relations with Jews, maintain their separate identity guided by detailed genealogies, and bury their dead in distinct cemeteries.” [2] After the Turkey’s defeat in the first World War and the following (successful) Turkish Independence War, the Dönme moved from Salonika (which was, from then on, Greek) to Turkey.
In Turkey, the Dönme continued to adhere to their religion in private, while publicly pretending to be Muslims. On Friday’s they (sometimes) went to the mosque, on all the other days, however, they secretly practiced their own religious customs. In fact, they are so secretive about it no Sabbatean “will ever publicly admit to being one.” Quite amazing is that “the Sabbateans themselves learn their real identities only when they turn 18, when the secret is finally revealed to them by their parents. This tradition of zealously maintaining a double identity in Muslim society has been passed on for generations.” [3]
Although they are called Dönme by outsiders, they call themselves “Sabbateans,” because the term Dönme has a highly negative feeling: “the term implies a conversion that is not genuine” and “there is a stigma attached to to the term dönme, which, like the term kizilbas, tends to connote dissimulation and harbors allegations of heterodox practices often linked to incest.” Besides that, “the term dönme is also used in contemporary Turkish to refer to persons who have undergone a change in sexual idenity.” Needless to say, all of “this adds an additional layer of ambiguity to this already ambiguous term.”[4] This is why I will, from now on, call the dönme as they call themselves: Sabbateans.
The Jerusalem Report (see note 3) had the rare opportunity to talk to a Sabbatean, who does not want to hide his identity. His name: Ilgaz Zorlu. Zorlu is the author of Yes, I Am a Salonikan, “which has been through six printings since its publication earlier this year and which has made its author persona non grata in the Sabbatean community.” Zorlu has had enough of all the secrecy and is “determined to break the silence, to put the issue on the public agenda, and to prove that the Sabbateans are actually crypto-Jews, that their Muslim appearances are nothing more than a sham.”
The reason that he wants to convince the Jewish authorities (so to speak) that the Sabbateans are Jews, is that he wants them to be accepted as such. He wants to be recognized as a Jew – one with strange customs (for Jews at least) – but a Jew nonetheless. Sadly for Zorlu, other Jews do not accept the Sabbateans. They consider them to be neither Jews nor Muslims. Zorlu’s 25-year-old cousin and a student of business administration who wished to remain anonymous when he talked with The Jerusalem Report, “tried twice to pray in local Jewish synagogues, but was kicked out both times.” [5]
All in all, there are an estimated 15,000-20,000 Sabbateans living in Turkey today.
The community is divided into three subgroups, who have little interaction with each other: the Karakas, Kapanci and Yacobis. Each group has its own agon (rabbi) and synagogue. The synagogues are kept secret – usually just rooms in private apartments or basements – and constantly change location; no outsider has ever been allowed to see one, and not even all the Sabbateans know where they are.[6]
When I read the articles the anonymous person sent to me, I was struck by the identity problem the Sabbateans have. They consider themselves Jews, but are not accepted as such. They consider themselves Turks, but cannot publicly say that they are not Muslims (because they fear that doing will hurt their chances to prosper / succeed). The Sabbateans are “viewed as a community with a double identity. The term itself, “connotes a continuously changing or unstable identity” used by some scholars as a metaphor.[7]
Sabbateans were always very secular (which is quite logical of course). They were educated in a non-religious way and, again logically, strongly supported the revolution by the Young Turks, who wanted to – slowly but surely – make Turkey more secular. When Atatürk became more powerful, and liberated Turkey from the occupying forces, they supported him and his very secular agenda as well.
Once the Turkish Republic was established, “two major events brought Sabbateanism into public view.”[8] These two events were the KarakaÅŸlı Rüşdü affair and the Capital Levy affair in 1942-1944:
In January of 1924, Rüşdü Bey, who belonged to the most conservative group of Sabbateans in Turkey, made an appeal to the Turkish Parliament in which he critiqued Sabbateans for not being “true” Muslims/Turks. This unusual public statement, caused, it seems, by Rüşdü Bey’s excommunication due to his marriage to a person from outside the group, resulted in widespread public debate on Sabbatean identity. Reportedly, many documents were destroyed during this period by families fearing an official investigation, and the KarakaÅŸlı Rüşdü affair seems to have strengthened the resolve of Sabbateans to assimilate.
After the Karakaşlı Rüşdü affair Sabbatean identity faded again from public view until the Capital Levy of 1942. During World War II, the Turkish government instituted a head tax, the declared goal of which was to tax who had made fortunes as a result of the war economy. The Capital Levy, which remained in force between 11 November 1942 and 15 March 1944, had another goal that was not officially stated: to make possible the transfer of capital from the non-Muslim communities of Jews, Armenians and Greek Orthodox to the majority population of Muslim origin. The Capital Levy largely succeeded in replacing the non-Muslim bourgeoisie of the city of Istanbul with a bourgeoisie of Muslim origin.
Although they were officially Muslim, individuals of Sabbatean background were charged higher taxes than Muslims, and treated in the same manner as non-Muslims during the Capital Levy episode. Of the two individuals charged the highest amount of tax during this period, one was Jewish and the other of Sabbatean origin. The Capital Levy was experienced as a great shock by persons of Sabbatean background who identified with the Turkish Republic and Turkish national identity, and who had largely ruptured their ties to a Sabbatean identity. The Capital Levy episode did more than illustrate the exclusionary nature of Turkish national identity; it suggested that anyone can be considered as a potential outsider in a society where the basis of identity is essentially unstable. The deep-seated paranoia and the constant search for the “enemy within” which characterizes Turkish political culture is a product of the Turkey’s modernity project’s refusal to acknowledge the past.[9]
The Capital Levy episode had a severe impact on the Sabbatean community: fear (for) and the experience of discrimination, led many Sabbateans to deny their heritage and to encourage marriages with Turkish Muslims. “As a result, the Sabbatean community has largely ceased to be a separate community, while a wall of silence within the family has created a rift between parents and children.”[10]
It is in that light that we have to look at before mentioned Ilgaz Zorlu: he tried to re-open the debate, but – above all – he tried to appeal “to persons of Sabbatean heritage to acknowledge their ethnic / religious idenitity.” He – at least – succeeded in the former: his work, “combined with the exposure in the media, has turned into a media campaign to bring Sabbateanism into public view as an ethnic/religious identity.” Sadly, however “it has done so in a way that has unfortunately encouraged pre-existing stereotypes about the community to resurface, has played into the hands of anti-Semitic groups, and made it more difficult for individuals of Sabbatean heritage to publicly discuss their identity.”[11]
The Sabbateans also – reportedly – played an interesting role in Turkish politics. According to Sabbateans – “from whose intelligentsia came some of the most active leaders of the revolution” – “were caught up in the great cultural revolution”[12] under Atatürk’s rule. They supported, even embraced, Atatürk’s secular agenda. Quite some Turkish politicians have – the last century – been ‘accused’ of being Sabbatean. One of them is Ismail Cem [1940-2007], Turkey’s Foreign Minister in 1997 (in the 55th administration of Turkey). Cem, however, denied being Sabbatean and died in January of this year.
There are even conspiracy theories alive and well about the political power of the Sabbateans:
Cem has long denied such claims, but he is only the latest target of a conspiracy theory that dates to the founding of the Turkish Republic in 1923. At its heart, two issues: the legitimacy of a secular regime in this mainly Muslim country, and the question of what it means to be a Turk. “The Sabbateans have a monopoly over Turkish society,” claims Mehmet Sevket-Eygi, columnist for the Islamic newspaper, Milli Gazete. “The Turks themselves live like the subject population of British India.”[13]
In this regard too, Zorlu is often criticized for writing his book I am From Salonika. According to some, his book and his claims that certain important people were (and are) from Sabbatean heritage have fed already existing prejudices and created and worsened conspiracy theories:
According to Marc Baer, Turkish historian at Pittsburgh University, the most troubling thing about Zorlu’s work is that “his claims about his community echo anti-Jewish and anti-Sabbatean myths popular in Turkey.” Zorlu’s conviction that “Turkey’s founders were all of of Sabbatean origin” has spurred religious newspapers to run headlines reading “Ataturk studied in a Jewish school” and “100,000 Sabbateans in Turkey.” It is now “common knowledge” that a media mogul and politicians ranging from the wife of the Prime Minister, Bulent Ecevit, through the recently resigned economy minister, Kemal Dervis, to the ubiquitous Ismail Cem, are of Sabbatean origin. “Zorlu has sold his soul to the fundamentalists”, says Rifat Bali.[14]
As mentioned in the quote above, not only did Zorlu’s book feed anti-Semitism and anti-Sabbateanism already existing in Turkey, he also accused several important people of being Sabbateans: Bulent Ecevit’s wife was RahÅŸan Ecevit (Bulent Ecevit passed away in 2006, RahÅŸan is still alive). Whether that is true or not: no one can say. Some even believe that Mustafa Kemal Atatürk himself was Sabbatean (or his father to be more precise, about whom very little is known).[15]
Other famous – alleged – Sabbateans are: “Mohammed Djavid Bey, one of the leaders of the ‘Young Turk’ movement, who for a while was Prime Minister of Turkey,” “Nazhat Fayek (another former Prime Minister), Mustapha Aref (a former Minister of the Interior), and Musleh al-Din Adel, a Deputy Minister of Education,”[16] and, lastly, it is even said that Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the father of Turkey, was of Sabbatean heritage[17].
The reason for this last ‘accusation’ are:
– Atatürk was born and raised in Salonika
– His father – of whom little is known – behaved like a Sabbatean: “outwardly observing Muslim ceremonies while inwardly scoffing at them”[18]
– Itamar Ben-Avi wrote in one of his books that, in 1911, he had a conversation with Atatürk, who was then still known as Mustafa Kemal. During that conversation, Atatürk reported said: “I’m a descendant of Sabbetai Zevi – not indeed a Jew any more, but an ardent admirer of this prophet of yours. My opinion is that every Jew in this country would do well to join his camp.” Furthermore, Atatürk said that he had a little, secret prayer of his own. His most important prayer: “‘Shema Yisra’el, Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Ehad!'” For those who know: this is the most important Jewish prayer[19]
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