[Bilimsel Haber] Book review: Gabriel Piterberg, _An Ottoman Tragedy: History and Historiography at Play_

[Sule Tarakcioglu]

Gabriel Piterberg. An Ottoman Tragedy: History and Historiography at
Play. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2003. xv
+ 256 pp. Index. $60.00 (cloth), ISBN 0-520-23836-2.

*Reviewed by:* Gottfried Hagen, University of Michigan.
*
Published by:* H-Turk <http://www.h-net.msu.edu/%7Eturk> (April, 2006)
Osman II and the Cultural History of Ottoman Historiography

Gabriel Piterberg's study of the historiography of the downfall of Osman
II in 1622 is designed to open new perspectives in Ottoman studies on
several levels: as a cultural study of Ottoman historiography in the
seventeenth century, a sophisticated discussion of the concept of state,
and a thorough critique of theoretical debates and studies in the field.
Tired by the fetishism of archival documents and positivist readings of
chronicles, Piterberg pleads for the linguistic turn in Ottoman studies
as a way to a cultural turn. He argues that Ottoman historiographical
treatment of a specific event in a sequence of historical works
indicates a "battle over the boundaries of knowledge of the Ottoman
state and Ottoman identity," up to the emergence of a "state narrative,"
concomitant to the 'reification' of the Ottoman state in the course of
the seventeenth century (p. 54 and passim).

The book is carefully structured. Chapter 1 outlines the events, from
the first accession of Mustafa I, Osman's predecessor and successor, in
November 1617 to the assassination of Osman, on May 20, 1622. He shows
how disgust towards fratricide and a particular power constellation in
the harem contributed to Mustafa's survival after being deposed, and
also weakened Osman's backing. Osman's lack of political experience led
to an increasing alienation of all crucial would-be supporters, first
and foremost the standing army, the kul. Mounting political crisis led
him to conceive a plan to move the capital to Bursa, Damascus, or even
Cairo, and to get rid of the unreliable kul. Rumors of this plan led to
an escalation of the crisis, to the re-enthronement of Mustafa, and
ultimately to Osman's assassination.

Chapter 2 provides an overview of Ottoman historiography from the
beginning to the seventeenth century. Largely inspired by Kafadar,
Piterberg argues that historiography was "conflictual and deeply
ingrained in the politics and ideological accents of its time" (p. 30)
so that it became intertwined with the history of the Ottoman state.
Drawing on Fleischer and Woodhead, Piterberg maintains that it was
increasingly the scribal service from which the "typical" Ottoman
historian emerged, one who aimed at providing reliable records of events
(often based on documents) in an ambitiously literary form. It is worth
noting, however, that Ottoman high prose culminated in the seventeenth
century in works written by 'ulema, such as Ahizade, Nergisi, Veysi, and
Karachelebizade, rather than works by bureaucrats. On the other hand, to
state that the Ottoman world chronicle of the late sixteenth and the
seventeenth century was written in high prose or Persian is misleading,
as it takes into account only the works studied by Fleischer and
Woodhead, but neglects other works e.g., by Jenabi, Karamani, Koja
Huseyn, and Katib Chelebi, written in Arabic, and/or simple Turkish
prose (p. 38).

On the other hand, the sociology of Ottoman historiography proposed here
is based on a specific selection of authors. True, most of the authors
studied by Piterberg were bureaucrats (the social distinction between
kul and bureaucrat being less clear than is often suggested in the
book), namely (in chronological order) Huseyn Tugi, Hasanbeyzade,
Pechevi, Kâtip Chelebi, and Na'ima (and others). However, this leaves
out contemporary historians of 'ulema background, such as Sa'deddin,
Karachelebizade 'Abdulaziz, Sharihulmenarzade, 'Isazade, Huseyn
Hezarfenn, and Muneccimbashi.[1] In particular, Bostanzade Yahya,
another member of the 'ulema, who dedicated a work specifically to the
downfall of Osman II, is not referred to in this book.[2] It remains to
be seen if the far-reaching conclusions arrived at here hold for 'ulema
historians.

Chapter 3 introduces the theoretical framework, which is primarily
inspired by Foucault's concept of discourse and Hayden White's theory of
historical narrative. Piterberg argues that White's theory, designed for
modern European historiography, can be applied to Ottoman historiography
with certain modifications. He is particularly interested in the unity
of form and content, the notion of chronology as a code, and the
formation of discourse from competing narratives. These three elements
guide his analysis of Ottoman chronicles in later chapters. In addition,
he uses the post-structuralist critique of speech act theory and
Ricoeur's separation between speech and writing to suggest a twofold
reading of his fundamental text, Tugi's work, as speech and written text.

Chapter 4 then proceeds to a reading of Huseyn Tugi's account as speech.
It is preserved in a number of manuscripts, four of which are available
in print, in the original Ottoman Turkish or as translation.[3] These
texts show considerable differences, to the degree that the identity of
two of them has not always been noted. Piterberg, who mentions only two
of those printed editions (Iz and Sertoglu), maintains that yet another
text, preserved in a manuscript in Vienna, constitutes the version which
was delivered as an oral address, and is also the text that was used by
subsequent historians, like Hasanbeyzade and Katib Chelebi. The argument
for this selection, together with a discussion of the transmission of
Tugi's work, is missing in the book, the reader is referred instead to
the author's unpublished dissertation (given the crucial nature of this
discussion it is hoped that it will be published separately). Since much
of Piterberg's subsequent assertion hinges on the reading of this text,
rather than of any other of the known versions, knowing the reasons for
his choice is essential. While it is safe to assume that Tugi's text was
read aloud in gatherings, just like many other Ottoman chronicles,
further evidence for its oral character as advanced by Piterberg is not
convincing. That the wording of documents quoted varies between texts
may indicate that there was an oral informant involved, rather than
prove the oral character of the texts as such. The predilection for
direct and unadorned speech is also found in other texts, such as
Na'ima,[4] as are digressions and the standard phrase with which authors
return to their main text. The rather simple poems in Tugi's work do
not, in my opinion, warrant the assumption that he deliberately opted
for a simple style, but was capable of more complex writing (p. 75). On
the other hand, question-and-answer sequences, which underline the oral
component of Ashikpashazade's chronicle, are not found in Tugi.

Guided by Hayden White, Piterberg is particularly interested in the
ordering of Tugi's account, which starts with the culmination of events
in May 1622, and provides additional information in a series of
digressions from the chronology. He distinguishes between a latent and a
manifest layer of meaning, finding that Tugi's account not only takes
the kul's point of view but also presents events in a way that
exonerates the kul from the accusation that they were actually
responsible for them. Piterberg suggests that the kul's and Tugi's
position was that "the padishah's venture had to be spoiled for
considerations that went far beyond the kul's interest and concerned the
well-being of the state as a whole" (p. 87). In other words, he
implicitly attributes to the kul a claim to a right to resist. But
criticism of an unjust ruler does not necessarily justify the rebellion
against him, certainly not within the realm of Ottoman and Islamic
political and historical thought, which clearly informs all historians
under discussion. To postulate such a notion would require more
substantiation, and more context, than provided here. Rather, the
opposition to Osman's pilgrimage plans from the 'ulema as well as the
version of Mahmud Efendi's dream interpretation as given in the Dresden
ms. of Tugi seem intended to prevent unrest, not to justify it.

In Chapter 5 Piterberg presents the two alternative narratives which
will end up forming the discourse, i.e., Hasanbeyzade and Pechevi. He
argues that Hasanbeyzade incorporated Tugi's text more or less in toto,
but did not disclose the source deliberately.[5] Tezcan has pointed out
that Piterberg's selection of manuscripts of Hasanbeyzade is
problematic, and specifically that in the text, which Piterberg uses,
the section from Tugi is a later addition. Instead, according to Tezcan,
Hasanbeyzade did not know of Tugi's work.[6] Thus Piterberg's further
interpretation has to be read with reservations. According to him Katib
Chelebi then used both Hasanbeyzade and his source, as well as Pechevi.
Despite his preference for Pechevi in other instances, however, Katib
Chelebi quotes him here primarily to dismiss his argument. This is
significant, because Pechevi, who had independent informants at court,
displays sympathies towards the protagonists that are very different
from Tugi's.

In Chapter 6 Piterberg goes on to argue that Katib Chelebi's version is
the "decisive interpretive junction in seventeenth-century Ottoman
historiography" (p. 114), which ultimately leads to the "sealing" of the
record of the event in what Piterberg calls the "state narrative." This
latter characterization seems to be based on the fact that the last
author in the chain of transmission, Na'ima, was appointed as state
historian (vekayi'nuvis), but without explicit evidence that the text
itself shows a specific "state" perspective. Katib Chelebi largely
adopted Tugi's version of the story, while dismissing Pechevi's causal
explanations as insufficient (rather than invalid, as Piterberg seems to
suggest). Whereas Tugi began with the main event and inserted previous
causes as digressions, Katib Chelebi returned to chronological order.
According to Piterberg, much of Tugi's implicit advocacy for the kul was
eliminated by virtue of this reordering.

This is even more explicit in a fictitious argument that is found
briefly in Katib Chelebi, and more elaborately in Na'ima (Fezleke, 2,
pp. 13-4, Na'ima, 2, pp. 232-3), which is not discussed in this chapter.
On the other hand, having employed Hayden White's theory of latent
meaning (going back to Freud) in his reading of Tugi and Katib Chelebi,
Piterberg at the end of the chapter concedes that it is impossible to
ascertain whether Katib Chelebi intended to produce the meaning that he
did (p. 132). In this case, it is equally impossible to know if this
meaning was recognized by any of his contemporary readers. Meaning,
after all, is not an objective fact, but constructed by the recipient of
the text. A meaning that possibly went unnoticed by authors and readers
at the time and is only uncovered with the help of Freudian psychology
is, I believe, of little relevance to the study of seventeenth-century
discourse.

In the last two chapters, Piterberg turns to the state. Chapter 7
reviews a number of theoretical approaches to the state, from Hegel and
Marx to Timothy Mitchell. Piterberg here inserts a short, but
illuminating discussion of Jack Goldstone's comparison between England,
China, and the Ottoman Empire in terms of socio-economic transformation
in the first half of the seventeenth century, pointing to some
interesting symmetries. Where Goldstone misses a counterpart to the
Academy and the Puritan movements respectively, Piterberg proposes to
look at Ottoman advice literature as a corresponding puritan discourse.
As he breaks the discussion off, announcing that he would pursue this
idea further elsewhere, I would rather suggest to focus on the
Kadizadeli movement which flourished right in this period and has
already been compared to the Puritans.[7]

Among Ottomanist concepts of the state Piterberg rightly criticizes the
way in which scholars in the wake of Inalcik have uncritically viewed
the state as endowed with autonomous agency. Studies that show the
transformation of the state, and the shift of power from the dynasty to
dignitaries' households (Kunt, Hathaway), are adduced to support his
central argument that in the seventeenth century state and dynastic
household became "less coterminous," while households became an
essential part of a "more tightly knitted imperial space" (p. 150). He
sees here a process of "centripetal decentralization" (Salzmann), while
rightly refuting Barkey's endowing the state with autonomy and
intentionality. Piterberg concludes that the state should be understood
as a "constructed reification," which is a helpful concept. However, his
assertion that the Ottomans themselves "constructed the state as an
autonomous and abstract agency, by writing it" leaves out the
complexities of Ottoman political discourse (p. 161). I do not see
Piterberg addressing the implications of the term devlet, a word which
is conspicuously absent from the quotes from his sources. Vatin and
Veinstein, in a study, which is almost exclusively based on a broad
critical reading of Ottoman chronicles, have recently argued that the
state was constructed as embodied in the members of the dynasty only
(and thus disappeared at the death of the sultan, giving rise to all
kinds of uncertainties).[8] Katib Chelebi, on the other hand, writes:
"The term devlet, which means kingdom or sultanate, by a kind of custom
denotes the association of humans.… The body of human society is
composed of four members, and its reins--by means of the notables who
are the natural powers and senses--are given to the sultan, who
represents the rational soul. These four members are the 'ulema, the
army, the merchants, and the flock."[9] This means that Katib Chelebi
includes all of human society in his understanding of devlet, thus
denying the very distinction between state and society which according
to Piterberg indicates the reification of the state. I will return to
the concept of the state below.

In Chapter 8 Piterberg ties the ends of his arguments together, in order
to show that "the unfolding of the historiographical discourse
simultaneously surrenders the discursive struggle and the fact of
reification." He exemplifies this first on the basis of diverging
representations of Abaza Mehmed Pasha, the governor of Erzurum, who
justified his oppression of the janissaries as a punishment for their
murder of the sultan. In a period in which "bandits [emerged] as a
social category" this representation as rebel or as loyalist governor by
Tugi and Pechevi respectively illustrates the discursive competition
about redrawing the borders of the state. As an explanation why Tugi's
perspective ultimately dominated, Piterberg draws on a term coined by
Kafadar, who described the Ottoman conceptual distinction of core land
vs. frontier as a "schizoid mental topography." Piterberg finds such a
dichotomous mental map to be part of an Ottoman longue duree, manifested
in the distinction between Rumelia and Anatolia, and corresponding
ethnic solidarities in the Ottoman elite (as observed by Kunt). As a
result, partisanship emerged along a divide between "Easterners" and
"Westerners," with the latter winning the day. To argue this, however,
he has to count Na'ima, a third-generation Aleppan, among the
Westerners, together with Tugi and Hasanbeyzade, while Pechevi, whose
nisba points to Hungary, represents the Easterner, probably on the basis
of his service in Anatolia.

It is in the epilogue that Piterberg demonstrates the cultural potential
of his study. After a discussion of the term haile (to be taken up
below), he uses Walter Andrews's concept of the "ecology of the song" to
demonstrate how the assumed speech situation of Tugi's address to the
kul mirrors the poetical situation of the party of the initiated inside,
and the ignorant orthodox critic outside the precinct of the group.
Piterberg finally argues that the "crossing into Anatolia" which he
identifies as the essential phrase, can be understood as a synecdoche
underlying the whole Ottoman discourse around the downfall of Osman II.
While it is less convincing in the light of the objections raised above,
his suggestion to look for other instances of crossings as part of
Ottoman mythical narratives might open new perspectives. The crossing of
the Euphrates, in which--according to Ashikpashazade--Osman I's
grandfather Suleymanshah lost his life, might lend itself to it more
than the passage into Rumelia. I leave it to future studies to explore
the potential implications of the fact that in that case death occurred
as the tribe was about to leave Anatolia.

The outcome of Piterberg's study for our understanding of the Ottoman
state is largely limited to the theoretical concept of the state as a
discursively constructed and contested field. I have noted above why I
do not share his contention that the reification of the state is found
in the writings of Ottoman historians of the period. This is not the
place to advance an alternative theory of the Ottoman state, but I would
like to point out a specific problem, which is inherent in the "field"
metaphor, and elsewhere in Piterberg's rhetoric of the "boundaries of
the state." Piterberg has well demonstrated that Abaza Mehmed Pasha is
depicted sometimes as a rebel, sometimes as an Ottoman governor,
depending (in his terms) on whether he is written as "within the state,"
or "without." Equally, he mentions the celalis as a social category,
subsequently included within the state as sekban troops. These
categories of governor and rebel are used as though mutually exclusive,
thus reemphasizing a rigid dichotomy (although he notes at some point
that the state's boundaries are rendered porous by the rise of
provincial households). I venture that this dichotomy does not do
justice to the social facts of the seventeenth century, since Piterberg,
just like Barkey, runs up against the problem of the seemingly
inconsequent pardoning of rebels and their co-optation by "the state"
(in their terms). Instead, I suggest considering the terms 'asi and
celali as descriptions of a particular state of relations between the
central government and one of its servants, or the armed part of the
peasantry, respectively. Just as a disobedient governor remains a
governor,[10] armed parts of the peasantry can be construed as bandits,
rebels, or mercenaries, depending on the political constellation,
without them substantially changing their activities (the fact that the
bandit, just like the heretic, is constructed by the authorities he
opposes certainly needs to be taken more seriously). It is remarkable
that neither Barkey nor Piterberg seem to be aware of the extensive
literature on banditry and militias (like the derbendci) in the Ottoman
Balkans, which provides numerous examples and approaches of interest for
the Anatolian case (speaking of "schizoid mental topographies"!).[11] In
short, I suggest that terms such as 'asi and celali were shaped by the
perspective of the central government, and were situational, i.e.,
depending on how governors (who increasingly have their own power basis)
and their retinue constantly renegotiate their relation with the
dynastic household.

Throughout the book Piterberg engages with earlier scholarship on
Ottoman history, and ultimately sets out to propose new perspectives and
approaches for the field. However, in forcefully criticizing older
"Orientalists" he seems to have only a limited segment of that field in
view, as in his bibliography the entire literature which he uses for
more than mining for factual information is in English. The rest of the
field of Ottoman studies has disappeared behind the language barrier,
without even an acknowledgment of its existence, not to mention a
discussion. The infamous "decline paradigm," which he presents as still
dominating Ottoman studies, has not seriously been supported by more
than a generation of scholars, since the seventies. (On the other hand,
Piterberg seems not to be concerned with the fact that the notion of
decline originates from some of the Ottoman historians he is writing
about.)

Furthermore, although I wholeheartedly agree with Piterberg's rejection
of document fetishism, a reading of chronicles only as repositories of
factual information, and orientalist reductionism,[12] I am troubled by
the number of inaccuracies in the book, which as a whole jeopardize his
argument for the significance of the vak'a-i haile, for his plea for new
perspectives in Ottoman studies, and for a linguistic turn in particular.

His assertion that the chronicler Ashikpashazade "threw in his lot" with
Mehmed Chelebi during the interregnum 1403-1413, seems unlikely, since
the chronicler, writing in the 1480s, can only have been a teenager at
that time (p. 32). "Nizam-i alem," world order, is not a metaphor (p.
146). Several arguments are based on extensive interpretations of
individual phrases, at odds with Ottoman grammar and usage. Piterberg's
treatment of the phrase that inspired the title "An Ottoman Tragedy" may
serve as an example. The downfall of Osman II is recorded by Katib
Chelebi (and by Na'ima) as vak'a-i haile-i Osmaniye. Piterberg notices,
correctly, that haile assumes the meaning of "tragedy" only in the late
nineteenth or early twentieth century (he has a point in stating that
the incident has certain tragic elements). Prior to the nineteenh
century the word is, as he demonstrates, only used as an adjective,
meaning "terrible, frightful." Still, throughout the book, Piterberg
refers to the incident as "The Haile-i Osmaniye," regardless of the fact
that such a phrase would be either anachronistic (haile as noun, meaning
tragedy), or grammatically wrong (haile as adjective without a noun as a
referent). Moreover, "Osmaniye" does not necessarily have to mean
"Ottoman." Thus, the vak'a-i haile-i Osmaniye most likely is not a
"strange, or terrible, Ottoman event" but "the terrible event that
befell Osman" II (p. 188).

In passing, Piterberg suggests that the use of haile for "tragedy" might
have been introduced into Turkish by poet and playwright Abdulhak Hamid
Tarhan. He refers to a poem by Abdulhak Hamid discussed by Alessio
Bombaci, stating that the title is "Haile," and criticizes Bombaci for
taking too much liberty when translating this title as "alcove."
However, Bombaci cites the poem as Hajle (Hag`le in his transliteration)
which means just that.[13] The word haile, which has no relation to the
content of the poem, is nowhere to be found (unless it comes from
another text which is not referenced). True, this instance is hardly
relevant for the argument of the book, but is puzzling nonetheless.

Piterberg attributes particular meaning to the fact that a particular
action is expressed not "in the 'normal' active or passive voice" but in
the causative form (p. 95). It should be clear that the causative in
Turkish is a form just as normal as any, and moreover, is not an
alternative to active or passive voice, but compatible with either of them.

Piterberg translates the phrase muttefikan hucum ettiler as "they
assaulted … in agreement" (p. 130, from Na'ima, 2, p. 252), and goes on
to speculate that this agreement might be a scheme of the kul together
with Mere Huseyn Pasha, the grand vizier. However, none of this is in
the text, and becomes even less likely when one translates,
idiomatically more correctly, "the sipahis and janissaries launched a
joint assault."

Presumably the translation of caiz degildir as "not obligatory" is due
to a simple confusion of texts (p. 75, after the Vienna ms., unavailable
to me). Piterberg contrasts this with the wording of the Dresden ms.,
translating "not permitted", where the text in fact has farz degildir.
However, it makes a difference if one translates padisahi kul taifesine
dusman edip Anadolu semtine gitmek istedigine sebeb olanlar as "what the
causes were for the enmity between the padishah and the kul corps, and
for his wanting to go in the direction of Anatolia" (p. 82) or,
correctly, as "those [persons] who caused the enmity between the
padishah and the kul, and made him want to go in the direction of
Anatolia." The difference between naming an abstract cause, or naming
morally responsible persons, is significant in the context of Ottoman
political-historical discourse, and is by no means negligible.

Beneath such instances of inaccuracy there seems to be a larger problem.
The corpus of texts analyzed here is an extremely small section of
Ottoman literary production of the period, and Piterberg hardly ever
ventures beyond it. This does not only raise the question of whether his
findings will hold up in the light of other sources. More importantly,
everybody who has learned Ottoman knows to what degree Ottoman
vocabulary is loaded with implicit meanings and associations which are
not necessarily given in the dictionaries, but are fully understood only
by those familiar with the broader cultural context. Thus the phrase
mazlum-i bi-gunah, which is used several times for Osman's brother
(Tugi) as well as for Osman himself (e.g., Na'ima, 2, p. 231), evokes
the vast discourse of justice and oppression ('adl vs. zulum), ethics of
rule, and ultimately royal legitimacy. Justice is also at the heart of
the kul's complaints against Osman II. None of this is taken up by
Piterberg.[14]

Closer to his argument, consider the following phrase with which Katib
Chelebi and after him Na'ima begin their accounts of the vak'a-i haile:
cun bu alem-i esbabda her seyin sebebi mukadder ve musebbibu l-esbab bir
yuzden tasarrufunu izhar etdigi mukarrerdur bu vak'anin dahi esbab-i
mute'addidesi tedric ile subut bulub vaktinde vak'a dahi zuhura
geldi.[15] It can be translated as: "Since it has been ordained that in
this world of [secondary] causes[16] everything has to have a
[secondary] cause, and since he who makes [secondary] causes take effect
[i.e., God] certainly displays his power in one way, the various
[secondary] causes of this incident, too, became manifest one by one,
until, in its time, the incident itself took place." This sentence holds
the key to the problem of the relation between divine preordainment,
worldly causality, and human agency in the understanding of Ottoman
historians.[17] According to Piterberg, "the human factor and what is
divinely designed simply coexist," with no indication that their
coexistence might be problematic (p. 89). He overlooks that the quoted
phrase is informed by the pertinent theological and philosophical
debates about free will, predestination, and determinism; moreover, it
also harks back to another, more explicit text, in which none other than
Katib Chelebi explains how it is incumbent upon man to actively prepare
for causes, but it is up to divine will to actually will create the
causal link and let the result of the cause come into being. In
addition, God will directly interfere to support the just and punish the
unjust.[18] Piterberg's suggestion, that for Katib Chelebi "astrological
causation was supplementary, rather than contradictory," to worldly
causes therefore misses the point, also because for a scholar like Katib
Chelebi there was no astrological causation: astrology is only a way to
gain insight into what is divinely preordained (p. 124).[19] Worldly
causality and predestination/divine causation do not simply coexist in
Ottoman thought, but are actually related to each other as in a complex
concept, as the outcome of a theological-philosophical debate.
Piterberg's caution not to measure what he reads in the text by modern
notions of logic and rationality thus appears unwarranted, and even
condescending.

For similar reasons, several of Piterberg's interpretations of events
and accounts, which he seems to take for granted, seem questionable to
me, or in need of further supporting arguments. Thus, although certainly
a harsh critique, I find Na'ima's characterization of Osman II by no
means the condemnation Piterberg makes out of it. Rather, Na'ima
acknowledges human weaknesses in the face of a task that is generally
recognized as requiring almost superhuman qualities. Nor is Osman's
fateful dream to be understood in the sense that Osman's reign had
"failed both spiritually [whatever that may mean] and materially," or
that God had rejected Osman as the spiritual imam and political leader
(pp. 86-90 passim). There is no point in pondering what the dream
"really meant." The two conflicting interpretations found in the
sources, by Osman's teacher Omer Efendi and Sheyh Mahmud Uskudari
clearly show that the meaning is determined by context and by the
interests of the interpreters. To some, the dream criticizes Osman''s
lack of personal piety in abandoning the plan for the pilgrimage, to
others it predicts his downfall. This is a truly tragic aspect of the
plot: either the sultan will forfeit salvation for abandoning the
pilgrimage, or he will be overthrown because of the rebellion his plans
cause. In this sense the dream can be said to mirror the clash of two
principles of seventeenth-century Ottoman legitimacy, the sultan's
personal piety, and justice in the sense of taking care of the needs of
his subjects at all times.

While Tugi struggles to exonerate the kul as tools in God's hands in
punishing Osman II (poem in Dresden ms., Iz, "Eski duzyazinin gelisimi,"
p. 140), later historians can judge with the benefit of hindsight.
Ultimately, their criticism is based on the fact that Osman's politics
led to the uprising of the kul--this is the unspoken premise of their
argument, but this is by no means to say that the kul were right to
rebel. Piterberg's assertion that "moving into Anatolia" was considered
detrimental as such, because there is no explicit argument otherwise (p.
179), neglects how cultural consensus can dispose of explicit
explanations, a point he is well aware of in other instances.

In the end, despite the claims to the contrary, the corpus analyzed in
the book remains largely deprived of its literary and intellectual
context. Piterberg repeats Abou-El-Haj's suggestion that Na'ima's use of
the "biological metaphor" of the human body for the state is indicative
of a new self-consciousness of the bureaucracy in Na'ima's time. Broader
study of the context would have shown that Na'ima took the metaphor from
Katib Chelebi's Dusturu'l-'amel, from where it can be traced back to
Kinalizade 'Ali's Ahlak-i 'Ala'i, written in the sixteenth century.[20]

Beyond the study of social origins of Ottoman historiographers, the
social context or Sitz im Leben of historiography too, is largely
absent. The question, why and for whom Ottoman chronicles were written,
is never seriously raised. For instance, the title of some versions of
Tugi's work, 'Ibretnuma, suggests that history was studied as a series
of political lessons, or examples. Piterberg's suggestion that Katib
Chelebi's phrase vak'a-i haile could have been inspired by a similar
term used by Sa'deddin in his Tacu't-tevarih seems to miss the realities
of the time: given the breadth of Katib Chelebi's education, who was,
after all, probably the most avid reader of his time, the search for the
source of such an inconspicuous phrase is pointless.

The writing of cultural history requires an effort to attain the "fusion
of horizons," as Gadamer described the process of hermeneutical
understanding (Piterberg, p. 60). I have pointed out some individual
instances of hermeneutical problems above. Moreover, all that Piterberg
uses to trace the horizon of his five authors is a very small corpus of
texts (in addition to the fact that some of these texts may not be what
he takes them for). To take the "fusion of horizons" seriously, however,
requires a broader approach to seventeenth-century intellectual life,
which is much more complex and variegated than this segment. As a
result, one can question if the findings about Ottoman historiographical
discourse presented here are really the most pertinent ones, or if other
leads in his corpus would have been more illuminating. While the
underlying motivation and approach of this book have much potential to
enrich the field, a broader and more solid empirical foundation is
needed to make them fruitful.

Notes

[1]. Piterberg seems unaware of Rhoads Murphey, "Ottoman Historical
Writing in the Seventeenth-Century: A Survey of the General Development
of the Genre After the Reign of Sultan Ahmed I (1603-1617)," Archivum
Ottomanicum 13 (1993-4): pp. 277-311.

[2]. Baki Tezcan, "The 1622 Military Rebellion in Istanbul,"
International Journal of Turkish Studies 8, nos. 1-2 (2002): pp. 25-43.

[3]. Midhat Sertoglu, "Tugi Tarihi," Belleten 43 (1947): pp. 490-514;
Fahir Iz, "Eski duzyazinin gelisimi: XVII yuzyilda halk dili ile
yazilmis bir tarih kitabi--Huseyin Tugi: Vak'a-i Sultan Osman Han," Turk
Dili Arastirmalari Yilligi Belleten (1967): pp. 119-155; Danon,
"Contributions a l'histoire des sultans Osman II et Mouctafa I," Journal
Asiatique 11e serie, 14 (1919): pp. 69-139, 243-310; Galland, La Mort de
sultan Osman ou le retablissement de Mustapha sur le throsne. Traduit
d'un manuscrit turc, de la Bibliotheque du Roy (Paris, 1678). All older
texts are mentioned by Iz.

[4]. Na'ima's quotes of direct speech provided numerous examples of
"vulgar Ottoman" for Erich Prokosch, Studien zur Grammatik des
Osmanisch-Tuerkischen unter besonderer Beruecksichtigung des
Vulgarosmanischen (Freiburg: Klaus Schwarz, 1980).

[5]. The circumstances under which historians indicate their sources
deserve a separate study. Transparency as a scholarly virtue is
certainly only one possible reason. For a study of how one Ottoman
author, namely Katib Chelebi, selected, indicated, and criticized his
sources, see Gottfried Hagen, Ein osmanischer Geograph bei der Arbeit:
Entstehung und Gedankenwelt von Katib Celebis Gihannnuma (Berlin: Klaus
Schwarz Verlag, 2003), pp. 291-307. Piterberg has only speculations to
offer (see also p. 119).

[6]. Tezcan, "1622 Military Rebellion," pp. 31-32.

[7]. Ahmed Yasar Ocak, "XVII. yuzyilda Osmanli Imparatorlugunda dinde
tasfiye (Puritanizm) tesebbuslerine bir bakis: Kadizadeliler hareketi,"
Turk Kulturu Arastirmalari 17-21, nos. 1-2 (1979-83): pp. 208-225.
Kadizade Efendi was even marginally involved in the events of 1622.

[8]. Nicolas Vatin and Gilles Veinstein, Le Serail ebranle. Essai sur
les morts, depositions et avenements des sultans ottomans XIVe-XIXe
siecle (Paris: Fayard, 2003).

[9]. Dusturu'l'amel, printed as a supplement to 'Ayn 'Ali, Kavanin-i
Al-i Osman, (Istanbul, 1280/1863-4), pp. 119-40, 122.

[10]. I do not see any evidence that the noun 'isyan, corresponding to
'asi, should denote an "official rebellion" or coup d'etat against the
ruling dynasty, as Piterberg suggests.

[11]. An excellent overview is Fikret Adanir, "Heiduckentum und
osmanische Herrschaft. Sozialgeschichtliche Aspekte der Diskussion um
das fruehneuzeitliche Raeuberwesen in Suedosteuropa",
Suedost-Forschungen 41 (1982): pp. 43-116. A useful array of sources has
been published in Aleksandar Matkovski, Turski izvori za ajdutsvoto i
aramistvoto vo Makedonija, 4 vols. (Skopje, 1961-1980), covering the
years 1620 to 1810.

[12]. I can not help noting, though, that reading intellectuals like
Pechevi, Katib Chelebi, and Na'ima primarily as representatives of group
interests, is a form of reductionism, too, albeit a common one.

[13]. Alessio Bombaci, Storia della Letteratura Turca (Firenze: Sansoni,
Milano: Edizione Accademia, 1969), p. 433.

[14]. See for instance Bogac Ergene, "On Ottoman Justice:
Interpretations in Conflict (1600/1800)," Islamic Law and Society 8, no.
1 (2001): pp. 52-87.

[15]. Here taken from Na'ima, 2, p. 209 because of the numerous
typographical errors in Fezleke, 2, p. 9).

[16]. I translate sebeb as "secondary cause" (Mittelsursache) in keeping
with the theological argument that such causes are not causing anything
by themselves, but only through the will of God, who is the primary
"causator" (musebbib).

[17]. It also provides an explanation for why Katib Chelebi, in contrast
to his source Tugi, then goes on to enumerate those causes in
chronological order, a problem Piterberg discusses at length.

[18]. Tuhfetu l-kibar, Istanbul 1913, p. 164; for a German translation
of this crucial passage and a detailed interpretation see Hagen, "Ein
osmanischer Geograph," pp. 338-339, 375-378.

[19]. See his discussion of astrology in Keshfu'z-zunun, and Hagen "Ein
osmanischer Geograph," pp. 386-389.

[20]. See Gottfried Hagen: "Legitimacy and World Order" in M. Reinkowski
and H. Karateke, eds., Legitimizing the Order. The Ottoman Rhetoric of
State Power (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2004), pp. 63-64.