5

GALATASARAY SQUARE

Galatasaray Square is an intersection point located almost midway between Taksim and Tünel squares. Meşrutiyet Avenue from the Tepebaşı side and the Boğazkesen Hill from Tophane meet at this crossroads. Though it occupies a relatively small plot of land, its name carries a weight that cannot be measured by its surface area.

Though it takes its name from Galatasaray High School, still located in the square, it owes the special place it has come to hold in the social memory of the last 20 years to the Saturday Mothers, who meet here every Saturday at 12.00. This is why it is also known as the Saturday Square. A variety of rights-based organizations and initiatives as well as political groups protesting violations in different areas also make frequent use of this space. It is for this reason that a throng of police officers is also often present in the square for security purposes. This army is stationed here at times in order to prevent those in the square from marching elsewhere, other times to stop them from gathering in the first place. That is to say, they don’t actually have much to do with people’s security.

Galatasaray Square appears, in this sense, to have stolen the spotlight from Istanbul’s perhaps most political square, Beyazıt, in the post1980s. The fact that rights and identity-based movements marked the period following 1980 may have played a large part in this. The square takes its name from a barracks/school founded in 1481 in this then unpopulated area by Bayezid II in order to train Inner Palace boys/ servants (“içoğlan”). In other words, the structure built here known as the Galata Palace (“Saray”) lent its name to the entire neighbourhood. Today, this school has been replaced by Galatasaray High School. The Galatasaray Hammam (bathhouse) was also built back then for the hygiene of Palace boys studying here and to sober up drunks. The Galatasaray Post Office built in 1875 functioned as one where residents of Istanbul could access postal and phone services in a historic establishment all the way up to the 2000s. The postal affairs (such as protest wires to the Ministry of Justice and of the Interior, or solidarity messages to prisons) of demonstrations held on İstiklal Avenue were also carried out here. The quotidian relationship Istanbul’s residents had with this historic space was cut off with the decision to convert the building into a museum.

The Çiçek (Flower) Passage located across from Galatasaray High is, in a way, a reference to Beyoğlu’s Russian past. Just like Rejans restaurant, it belonged to white Russians migrating to Istanbul in the wake of the October Revolution. It is also possible to map out the alcohol policies of military and civil fascist, conservative administrations from Ottoman times to present by looking at the historic journey of this arcade. Galatasaray Square has, of course, its fair share of passages or arcades, which are a symbol of Ottoman modernization. One particular attribute of these arcades that make the city roamable is that they constitute the first shopping centers of Istanbul run by non-Muslims. Their hand-over to appointed trustees (kayyum) or to the Treasury is, therefore, an example of the Republic’s transfer of capital from non-Muslims to Turks. The square also houses two sculpted monuments in a city generally devoid of these. The stories of Şadi Çalık’s 50th Anniversary of the Republic (Cumhuriyet’in 50. Yılı) and İlhan Koman’s Mediterranean (Akdeniz) are an artistic manifestation of the clash of Islamist and Westernist politics in Turkey. Finally, of course, the tale of the Saturday Mothers – or Saturday People – appears as a historic symbol of state violence and ruthlessness, and of the impunity of state officials, but also of resistance against this, of human rights and the struggle to attain these.