Acprof Oso 9780190264031.003.0006

Celebrating the Ottoman Past, the Victorious
Second Balkan War and the Reinstatement of

Edirne
University Press Scholarship Online
Oxford Scholarship Online
The Ottoman Culture of Defeat: The Balkan Wars

and their Aftermath
Eyal Ginio
Print publication date: 2016

Print ISBN-13: 9780190264031
Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2016
DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190264031.001.0001
Celebrating the Ottoman Past, the

Victorious Second Balkan War and
the Reinstatement of Edirne
Heralding the Rebirth of the Nation
Eyal Ginio
DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190264031.003.0006
Abstract and Keywords
The short Second Balkan War and the subsequent Ottoman

territorial gains (including the city of Edirne) enabled Ottoman
politicians and publicists to perceive the regeneration of the
nation as a project in realization that had yielded its first fruits
of victory. It allowed the Ottoman army and the CUP
government to claim military victory and expertise and thus to
attempt to rehabilitate their reputation. Chapter 6 examines
the ways in which Edirne, probably the most outstanding
national icon of the Balkan Wars, became the focal point of
Ottoman commemoration of the Balkan Wars and of the
official celebrations that accompanied the reestablishment of
Ottoman rule there. By exploring the celebrations and their
messages, the chapter discusses the Ottoman shaping of
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Edirne
national symbols and a national calendar and their
contribution to the reconstruction of the nation’s boundaries
and ethos.
Keywords: Edirne, Military victory, Commemoration, National symbols,

National calendar, National icon, National ethos
While the First Balkan War offered only scenes of failure and
defeat, the much shorter Second Balkan War (July 1913) and
the subsequent Ottoman territorial gains in Eastern Thrace
enabled Ottoman publicists to perceive the regeneration of
Ottoman society not merely as a futuristic project but also as a
promising and attainable project in realization that had
yielded its first meaningful fruits of victory. Unlike the poor,
failed performances of the First Balkan War, Ottoman writers
maintained, Ottoman soldiers now demonstrated their resolve
and bravery in the face of their enemy and were able to
achieve a meaningful victory, erasing one of the most
agonizing symbols of the First Balkan War: the surrender of
Edirne. This abrupt change was not accidental, the CUP-
affiliated press could assert: it was the primary fruit of the
coup d’état of January 1913 and the new ambiance created by
the CUP leadership who had taken over the reins of
government, and especially thanks to the bravery of Enver
Bey.
Therefore, the CUP government and the various civic

organizations celebrated this achievement in myriad
ceremonies, mostly in Edirne, aiming to convey messages of
resolution, heroism and regeneration. They were addressing
an Ottoman as well as an international audience, always
conscious of history and of the opportunity awarded to them
by the liberation of the second (p.228) Ottoman capital. It
seems that the division of labour was quite clear. Civic
associations, such as the Association of National Defence,
used their administrative and organizational infrastructure
and experience to mobilize the masses, as well as selected
Ottoman and foreign guests, and to bring them to Edirne, the
epicentre of the celebrations commemorating the attainments
of the CUP government and the army. This chapter explores
the celebrations initiated following the city’s return to
Ottoman rule in the Second Balkan War. It is intended as a
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Edirne
case study, exploring the shaping of national celebrations to
convey new messages and agendas after the Second Balkan
War. More than anything else, I will argue, these celebrations
served to highlight the liberation of Edirne as a turning point
in Ottoman fortunes in the battlefield and in the international
arena, and to underscore the ability of the Young Turk
government to guide the Ottoman nation to a better future.
The attempt to celebrate the victory was nevertheless
constructed against the fresh and omnipresent memories of
defeat in the First Balkan War. Sites that witnessed the most
visible and humiliating aspects of the defeat served now both
to mark the victory and to commemorate the Bulgarians’
atrocities. The lion’s share of the official ceremonies paid
tribute to the restoration of those locations that suffered the
most from Bulgarian vandalism and destruction. Many of those
who participated in the official events were invited to
contemplate and to absorb the dimensions of damage caused
by the Bulgarian occupation. Their active part in the
celebration was nevertheless to view the sights, to hear the
testimonies and to deliver them to people all over the Ottoman
state and beyond. As such, the ‘culture of victory’ that
surrounded the liberation of Edirne was an integral part of the
Ottoman culture of defeat that accompanied the First Balkan
War. The horrors of the occupation and the elation of the
liberation were intertwined in the ceremonies that took place
in Edirne.
The proclaimed victory in the Second Balkan War and its

public celebration were meant to focus public attention on
Edirne and Eastern Thrace. Edirne achieved iconographic
significance in Ottoman writings on the Balkan Wars,
representing civilian resolution during the last months of siege
in the First Balkan War and military gallantry during the
Second Balkan War. This of course was not the first time that
the city gained a prominent position in Ottoman history.
Serving the Ottoman sultans as their second capital for almost
a century (1361–1453) and later a favourite place of sojourn
for the sultanic household, the city was adorned with some of
the most impressive Ottoman religious complexes including
mosques, medreses and other emblematic buildings aiming to
proclaim and demonstrate the sultans’ piety and power. The
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Edirne
late-sixteenth-century Selimiye Mosque, built by the famous
(p.229) Ottoman architect Sinan (1489–1588) under the
auspices of sultan Selim II (r.1566–74) and considered by

many the apex of his work and therefore of all Ottoman
religious architecture, illustrated Edirne’s importance in the
sultans’ eyes even following the transfer of the capital to
Istanbul.1 This imperial legacy played a major role in the CUP
ceremonies commemorating the liberation of the city.
Furthermore, putting the Ottoman heritage of Edirne under
the spotlight was also part of the CUP government’s desire to
claim continuity with the great and victorious sultans of the
past. After the Balkan Wars, this Ottoman history of military
victories and conquests was officially celebrated in museum
exhibitions, public performances and holidays. This
celebration of Ottoman history should be interpreted against
the background of the defeat and the related wish to inspire
self-confidence and hope among Ottomans.
For the CUP, Edirne represented both the Ottoman glory of

the distant past and the more recent misfortunes and decline
that culminated in the Bulgarian conquest during the First
Balkan War. Like other inland cities, Edirne declined
considerably during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries
when much of the commerce shifted towards coastal cities. It
endured several brief occupations by foreign armies during
the nineteenth century, and following the establishment of the
Bulgarian princedom in 1878, it lost most of its hinterland and
became a border town. On the eve of the Balkan Wars, Edirne,
despite its status as the administrative centre of a province
(vilâyet), could hardly be considered one of the main
economic, cultural or political centres of the Ottoman Balkans.
Its aggregate pre-war population numbered about 90,000
people. With its ethnic and religious mixture, Edirne
resembled many Ottoman cities. Population assessments
revealed the following breakdown: 47,000 Turks, 20,000
Greeks, 15,000 Jews, 4,000 Armenians, 2,000 Bulgarians and
others.2
The Balkan Wars transformed the image of Edirne: first,

during the First Balkan War, as a symbol of civilian and
military resistance and then, in the aftermath of the Second
Balkan War, as an emblem of the rejuvenation of the Ottoman
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Edirne
nation under CUP leadership. Liberated Edirne provides a
stimulating example of the combined patterns of official
celebrations, sultanic patronage and participation on a
broader social level to achieve political goals. More to the
point, the return of Edirne enabled the CUP government to
stage a long series of ceremonies and popular celebrations.
Celebrations under Young Turk Rule

National celebrations accompanied the appearance of the
modern state in the wake of the French Revolution and the
formation of national identities. The (p.230) need to provide
an alternative to traditional religious rites and ceremonies
connected to the ruling dynasty explains the introduction of
new holidays celebrating the nation and its coherence
according to the master narrative of the ruling elite.
Therefore, the importance of studying state celebrations lies in
their role as a socialization tool, disseminating the political
elite’s narrative and diffusing and legitimizing political
decisions and processes among the masses. For these reasons,
historians studying the formation of the modern state
increasingly pay attention to state celebrations and
ceremonies.3 Pertinent to this argument is the often-quoted
observation of Anthony Smith that ‘national symbols, customs
and ceremonies are the most potent and durable aspects of
nationalism’.4
Matthew Truesdell, for example, who explores the use of

public celebrations under the French Second Empire (1849–
70), argues that such events were a powerful instrument for
legitimizing leaders, regimes and systems. The staging of
celebrations was perceived as an effective tool due to the wide
use of public speeches and emotionally resonant symbols and
images. Celebrations were seen as a powerful instrument
because of their ability to secure the mass participation of
people, even the illiterate among them, who could easily grasp
sought-after messages. This became even more salient,
Truesdell argues, when ‘dealing with a political system based
on universal male suffrage and a society that put ever more
trust in the value of popular opinions’. By creating a new set of
national events, the political elite attempted to impose a
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Edirne
hegemonic narrative and a specific collective memory upon
society.5
Faced with comparable challenges and difficulties of

legitimacy, the newly established CUP regime resorted to
similar techniques in its attempt to manipulate public opinion
and to mobilize society in support of the new regime. After all,
the Ottoman political elite was acquainted with major
European modes of celebrating the nation not only through
their familiarity with the West through visits to European
capital cities or reading European accounts, but also through
the official celebrations of national holidays by the various
embassies and consulates in Istanbul and in other major
Ottoman cities.6 A similar set of symbols and ceremonies
created what George Mosse has defined as ‘the liturgical cult
of nationalism’.7 Eviatar Zerubavel terms the national calendar
‘the most spectacular site of collective memory’, enabling the
historian to study ‘the master narratives constructed by
mnemonic communities from their history’.8 Elie Podeh
remarks, in his study of national calendars in the modern Arab
world, that all Arab states organized a list of commemorative
observances, thus creating an annual cycle of remembrance.
Such a (p.231) national calendar, dotted with holidays and
commemorative events, together with other state symbols
(flag, emblem, anthem, coins, stamps etc.), became an
imperative indicator of being modern, a legitimate member of
the community of modern nations.9 Furthermore, he claims,
such a calendar could serve the state to shape and better
consolidate its national identity, to acquire, maintain or
strengthen the regime’s legitimacy and its agenda, to
demonstrate publicly the regime’s sovereignty and to take
advantage of the emotional power created during national
celebrations (as well as in religious rites) to strengthen
individuals’ sense of belonging to the collective community.10
In the twentieth-century Middle East, each Arab state shaped
its own calendar encompassing ‘modern and Eastern
inventions, as well as Islamic and pre-Islamic traditions, some
of them were adapted to the new reality’.11
A similar and earlier combination of traditional rites of power

combined with new emblematic symbols, often borrowed from
Page 6 of 61
Edirne
the West, can be discerned in the shaping of national holidays
under Young Turk rule. Already following the 1908 revolution,
the new regime constructed a national calendar that reflected
its reformist and modernist agenda. The new celebrations
were significant in the shaping of a new Ottoman patriotic
culture. Their aim was to generate a viable basis of popular
support. Revolution Day, or the National Holiday of the Tenth
of July (10 Temmuz Îd-i Millisi), celebrated on 10/23 July,
quickly emerged as the most prominent event of the new
calendar. It celebrated the newly gained freedom, fraternity
and equality of all Ottomans.12 When Ottoman parliament
members discussed the introduction of such a national
holiday, some of them overtly referred to the French
celebration of 14 July (Bastille Day) as a suggestive example of
the significance of such a commemorative date. Similar
comparisons also appeared in the Ottoman press.13
The urge to establish a new holiday could also be explained by

the new regime’s need to distance itself from the previous
rulers and their symbols. However, until the outbreak of the
Balkan Wars, the new calendar remained rather ‘thin’ and
several major traditional events related to the sultanate were
kept, with some modifications.14 A total break with the past
was not yet regarded as possible or even a desirable option.
Therefore, the reorganization of the national calendar did not
result in the abolition of pre-revolutionary state celebrations
that were connected to Islam and to the sultanic dynasty. The
new calendar had to take into consideration Islamic and
existing Ottoman traditions, as well as those belonging to the
repertoire of modern nationalism. A case in point is the
ascendance to the throne of Mehmed Reşad, the first
constitutional sultan, in April 1909. The revolutionary
government (p.232) approved a long series of ceremonies
based on traditional Ottoman rites of accession to power,
though revised to convey messages of constitutional rule and
modernization. The public display of the new sultan’s
photographs adorned with his tuğra (monogram) served the
purpose of presenting Mehmed Reşad as a modern and
accessible monarch. Such photographs decorated the streets
of Istanbul and postcards as part of the sultan’s coronation
celebrations (cülus-u hümayun).15 David Cannadine’s remark
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Edirne
that ‘even if the text of a repeated ritual … remains unaltered
over time, its “meaning” may change profoundly depending on
the nature of the context’ is pertinent to explaining the
seemingly unreasonable continuity between Hamidian rites of
power, placing the sultan at the centre of the state’s
symbolism, and the Young Turk state rituals.16
In addition, it should be remembered that the Ottoman

government did not hold a monopoly over the celebration of
national holidays in the Ottoman realm. As in the fields of
education, health, law and many others, the European powers
offered some competition with which the Ottomans had to
cope. The different European embassies and consulates staged
public celebrations to mark their national days and thus to
acquire influence, especially in Ottoman port-cities. These
festivals turned into a ‘game of public demonstrations of
power’ with which the Ottomans attempted to compete by
staging their own public celebrations. As mentioned above,
until the Young Turk revolution this meant the anniversary of
the reigning sultan’s ascension to the throne.17
As I will show below, the fact that Edirne was liberated on the
very same day as the revolution of 1908 would enable the CUP
government to turn this date into a double celebration,
commemorating the freedom of the Ottoman nation together
with the liberation of Edirne, both claimed by the CUP
government as achieved thanks to the CUP’s efforts and its
devotion to the nation and the fatherland. Furthermore, the
Balkan Wars inspired the Ottoman government to initiate
additional holidays, thus creating a ‘thick’ national calendar.
Such ‘commemorative obsession’ may indicate the regime’s
lack of self-confidence and legitimacy as result of the defeat
on the one hand, and on the other hand the attempt to sever
any final bonds with the previous regime.18
In the newly invented celebrations, not only the frequency was

modified but also the content. It can be argued that while the
celebration of the 1908 revolution was shaped following the
model of modern European civic nationalism, subsequent to
the Balkan Wars additional celebrations mostly represented
the conflation of Islam, Ottoman history and modern
nationalism. An illustrative case is the invention of ‘Red
Page 8 of 61
Edirne
Crescent Day’ in September 1913. The (p.233) Red Crescent,
as shown in Chapter 3, had a visible presence at various public
meetings and gatherings during the Balkan Wars, promoting
highly publicized relief operations for the war’s victims. In late
September 1913, the Red Crescent designated the first day of
Îdulfitr, a three-day Muslim holiday which marks the end of
Ramazan, the Islamic holy month of fasting, to celebrate ‘Red
Crescent Day’ (Hilâl-i Ahmer Günü). The organization hoped to
use the religious aspect of the holiday to boost its fund-raising
efforts, which had begun already during the war. This was also
an opportunity to celebrate the accomplishments of the Red
Crescent and to express the population’s gratitude for its
activities during the Balkan Wars. The combination of both the
religious significance of the Muslim holiday and the newly
invented celebration of a national and international
organization created what Podeh defines as ‘a hybrid event
using both religious and patriotic symbolism’.19
The organization’s major attraction as a national symbol lay in

the fact that more than any other civilian body, the Red
Crescent enabled different segments of Ottoman society to
contribute their share to the war effort from the rear. Public
celebrations could improve the organization’s financial
situation, which depended on public support. Furthermore, the
performance of the Red Crescent was believed to be one of the
few Ottoman organizational bright spots in the First Balkan
War. The CUP government could claim its own share in the
organization’s accomplishments through staging a national
holiday that celebrated civilian mobilization to the war effort
through the mediation of the Red Crescent Organization. The
public holiday also celebrated the unity of the Ottoman nation
and its attachment to the Islamic world. Such a holiday was
not a totally Ottoman invention as the adoption of such a day,
we learn from a public conference, followed similar events
organized on behalf of the Red Cross in many European
countries.20 Such European commemorative days certainly
offered some guidance when Ottoman leaders contemplated
the introduction of the Red Crescent Day. Yet, its occurrence
during a major Muslim religious holiday meant that the
celebration was imbued with religious symbolism.
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Edirne
It may be useful to review the reports in the press regarding
the ‘Red Crescent Day’ and to analyse their contents. The
public celebration was clearly civilian in its character and
therefore represents well the commemorative events that took
place during the First Balkan War. The messages projected by
the accompanying public ceremonies were easily decoded. The
holiday had its own emblematic items—white and red (the
colours of the Red Crescent) flower pins that received the title
of ‘the Flower of the Red Crescent’ (hilâl-i ahmer çiçeği) or
‘the flowers and the cockades (kokart) of the Red Crescent’.
The principal (p.234) objective was to collect public donations
for the organization in return for the small pins. The flower
pins represented ‘tokens of charity’ and stood for the donor’s
status as a patriotic and caring citizen.21 The main distributors
were female volunteers. Photos taken during the first
celebration of Red Crescent Day in Istanbul showed women,
some of them elegantly dressed in high heels and straw hats
adorned with flowers, others veiled, handing out the pins to
passers-by in central sites of Istanbul: in front of the Taksim
public garden, on the Galata bridge or in [Şehid] Muhtar Bey
street near Taksim.22 This choice was not coincidental as such
‘street scenes’ could easily draw public attention. The women
were accompanied by male volunteers who stood aside when
the woman affixed the pin on the donor’s chest. The flower
pins became emblems of patriotism celebrated in poems, short
stories and photos.
The women, all of them volunteers, wore armbands identifying

them as Red Crescent volunteers. The equation of military
service with citizenship may have stimulated the rage for
uniforms among women’s organizations that swept Europe
from the mid-nineteenth century. Accordingly, uniforms also
asserted the professional status, and affirmed the auxiliary
role, of women in periods of war.23 Special devices were
inserted to verify that no counterfeit ‘flowers’ were sold.24 The
yearbooks (takvim) of the Ottoman Red Crescent list the value
of donations collected during Red Crescent Day through the
sale of such symbolic pins.
The yearbook of the Red Crescent provides further

descriptions of the ‘flower of the Red Crescent’ pin, and it is
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Edirne
pertinent to quote a few lines from the entries to help explain
how the organizers of the event hoped to achieve their aims:
On the first day of Îdulfitr, all Ottomans adorned their

chests with those small and pure white and red flowers.
The day of the festival was the “Flowers Day” of the Red
Crescent. There was no Ottoman who did not know what
the flower of the Red Crescent symbolized and how it
provided help; there was no Ottoman who did not carry
this flower on his chest with sacredness and love. To
sport the flower of the Red Crescent means to wrap and
bind the open wounds that the enemy’s weapons inflicted
during the war on the precious bodies of our courageous
and beloved soldiers.25
The combination of the religious aspects of Îdulfitr and the

national aims are clearly present in the statement above.
As befits a national celebration, other public activities

accompanied the event, highlighting its patriotic messages. At
the beginning of the First World War, for example, the
dramatic group of the Association of the Ottoman Navy staged
a play named ‘The Flower of the Red Crescent’. This play
extolled the (p.235) contribution of women to the war effort.
We will just quote a few lines repeated by the chorus (koru):
‘Women are partners in the fatherland/women are also
partners in honour, women are also partners in dying/this is a
right that cannot be denied.’26
Red Crescent Day was not the only festive innovation that
followed the Balkan Wars. The Ottoman press mentioned a
host of other new holidays celebrating the nation and its
military achievements in the past, as the CUP government
continued to introduce new national holidays after the Balkan
Wars. In December 1913, a public debate arose around the
suitable date to celebrate the foundation of the Ottoman
Empire (using the anachronistic term ‘the independence of the
Ottomans’—İstiklâl-ı Osmanî). The Society for Ottoman History
(Tarih-i Osmanî Encümeni) recommended the designation of
27 January as a suitable date. However, it seems that 30
December became a more popular date to celebrate the event,
at least during the First World War.27
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Edirne
The Resimli Kitab published some photographs taken during
the first celebration of the anniversary of Ottoman
independence. The periodical chose to include photos of Talât
Bey, the Minister of Internal Affairs, speaking at the entrance
of the Bâb-i Âli building (the office building of the grand vizier)
and surrounded by young men dressed as janissaries, the
Ottoman elite soldiers. The Janissary Corps, symbolizing
military corruption and obsolete military skills, was abolished
in 1826 as one of the first steps of military reform. However,
almost a century later, these public performances indicate that
they were perceived as symbols of the glorious Ottoman
military heritage. The disguised solders held in their hands a
large standard on which the words ‘the independence of the
Ottomans’ were written. Other photos referred to images
taken before the War Ministry and the city municipality.
Another official ceremony, from which the Resimli Kitab chose
to include photographs in the same issue, was that of laying
the foundation (vazı-ı esas resmi) for the future Islamic
University in Medina.28 It should be also noted that selected
soldiers, dressed as janissaries, played an important part in
the celebrations of 10 July and the liberation of Edirne in July
1913. Their parade, accompanied by old military marches, was
well-received by the viewing audience. Another highlight of
their performance was the enactment of the traditional
ceremony of resim-i geçid (a military review). This historical
reconstruction was initiated by the Association of National
Defence and the Military Museum in Istanbul with the support
of Cemal Bey, the governor of Istanbul.29
In June 1914, the government initiated a public holiday

commemorating the conquest of Constantinople in 1453, ‘one
of the most glorious events in (p.236) Ottoman history’, and
the first public procession (selamlık) of Sultan Fatih (Mehmed
the Conqueror) to the Aya Sofya on Friday at noon, thus
confirming the transformation of the eminent Byzantine
church into a mosque.30 Hence, the conquest of the city was
turned into an official ‘founding moment’ which helped to
define the nation as it constructed its public memory.31
Ottoman victories from the past were used to boost morale,

while public celebrations generated awareness and pride in
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Edirne
this past ‘national’ achievement. Interestingly, several weeks
prior to the introduction of the public holiday commemorating
the conquest of Constantinople, the cinemas of Istanbul
screened a film on the Ottoman conquest of the Byzantine
metropolis—this was probably the French silent film L’Agonie
de Byzance.32 One of the viewers reported on his feeling of
excitement while watching this testimony to the Ottoman glory
days of the past. For him, this was an opportunity to forget the
mournful and painful present for a moment.33 His remark
allows us to assess the significance of this historical event as
conceived in Istanbul following the defeat in the Balkan Wars.
The Prophet’s Birthday (Mevlid-i Şerif) became a formal public

holiday as well. Casting these modern holidays in terms of
traditional frameworks indicates the CUP’s wish to
appropriate holidays that could also connect the regime to
major events in Ottoman history or to religious rites adopted
from the Islamic calendar. By claiming to harbour traditional
Islamic and Ottoman significance, the CUP government could
render these holidays and their messages legitimate and
acceptable.34 These holidays, therefore, exemplify the CUP
perceptions of holidays as a major tool to achieve legitimacy
and to shape communal identities and boundaries.
The celebration of Edirne’s liberation was, therefore, part of a

larger attempt to use holidays as a powerful tool to mobilize
public opinion in favour of the CUP government. However,
before discussing the national celebrations that accompanied
the liberation of Edirne, a brief presentation of Edirne’s place
in the literature of the defeat is needed. This survey will
demonstrate the city’s significance during the siege and after
its capitulation as told and experienced by the Ottomans. This
literature created the grief and the emotional infrastructure
on which the celebrations would later be constructed.
Edirne in Ottoman Writings on the Defeat

The major events that surrounded the five-month siege of
Edirne, and the subsequent Bulgarian occupation of the city,
were recounted in Chapter 1. (p.237) Here, I will explore the
impact of the siege and its horrors as described by Ottoman
witnesses, authors, publicists and others. This is needed in
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Edirne
order to grasp the Ottoman popular awareness of the events
that took place in Edirne during the siege and under Bulgarian
occupation, and thus to understand the significance attributed
to the liberation of Edirne in the celebrations that marked the
city’s return to Ottoman rule.
The siege of Edirne became one of the main symbols of civilian

suffering and resolve to face the enemy’s cruelty during the
Balkan Wars. Ottoman citizens and foreign witnesses
published their memories of the five-month siege in various
languages, reflecting the cultural diversity of the city’s
inhabitants. The press referred to the threat that Edirne’s fate
would indeed be that of the entire Ottoman state: Edirne was
presented as ‘the citadel that is the last safeguard of Ottoman
honour against the Balkan states’ (namus-u osmaniyi
Balkanlar karşısında son muhafaza eden kale).35 Before
Edirne’s surrender in March 1913, the agonies of this
strategic city, particularly during the Bulgarian siege, were
transmitted to the Ottoman population through varied written
and iconographic representations. As the city was under siege
from the beginning of November when the telegraph
connections were severed, the press of Istanbul could not
report on daily life in the embattled city. The Ottoman official
gazette Takvim-i Vekayi published short reports on the
besieged city written in laconic language; ‘with the exception
of exchanges of light artillery fire in the defence belt
surrounding Edirne, nothing worth mentioning occurred’, it
was stated in a report dated 4/17 March 1913.36 Because of
the lack of actual news, the press focused on the city for its
reportage, by referring to the scattered reports of foreign
correspondents, by publishing images of pre-war Edirne and
its glorious past that was now under threat, and by searching
for testimonies from refugees.
As long as the siege continued, the city served as a symbol of

civil and military determination and steadfastness through its
heroic endurance. Edirne’s glory was embodied in the
masculine character of Mehmed Şükrü Paşa, commander of
the city and a former student at the French military academy
in St Cyr. He was extolled for his fortitude and bravery. His
military experiences during the siege were considered to
demonstrate the personal ability and honour of Ottoman
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Edirne
soldiers as individuals, as opposed to the poor Ottoman
military performance during the war. Şükrü Paşa became one
of the major heroes and role models of the Balkan Wars, and
his photos in military uniform appeared in the local press and
abroad, even after the city’s capitulation. His whereabouts
following the surrender were closely followed and reported in
the (p.238) Ottoman press, including the minorities’ press.
Mehmed Şükrü Paşa’s return to Istanbul from his captivity in
Bulgaria in October 1913 was accompanied by formal
ceremonies where he was hosted by the sultan as guest of
honour. Already at the beginning of April 1913, the Ottoman
press reported a female reader’s initiative to raise money
through subscriptions among Turkish women to construct a
monument (âbide) in honour of Şükrü Paşa, ‘the Hero of
Edirne’, in Beyazıd Square in Istanbul.37 Today a statue of him
proudly observes the battlefields of Edirne. Mehmed Şükrü
Paşa is one of the few heroes of the Young Turk period who
was afterwards adopted also by the Turkish Republic.38
While the glory of the city’s defenders was embodied in its

commander’s image, the civil population of Edirne became a
collective national icon that could instil hope and strength of
mind among the Ottoman civil population in general. The
perseverance of the city’s inhabitants and their ability to
confront the enemy’s assaults were vividly channelled through
the images of the civil population, especially through the daily
struggles of women and children to survive under the harsh
siege conditions. In addition to press reports, the drama of
beleaguered Edirne spread around the state in other ways as
well, including popular entertainment. Theatres staged plays
that unambiguously portrayed scenes from Edirne. The
producer Melikzade Fuad included in his play Edirne
Müdafaası yahut Şükrü Paşa (‘The Defence of Edirne or Şükrü
Paşa’) scenes of the Bulgarian siege, of the starvation inside
the besieged city, of the aerial bombardment, of the Bulgarian
atrocities and of loved ones who left for the battlefields.39
Edirne’s eventual fall to the Bulgarian army on 26 March 1913

symbolized for many the abysmal dimensions of the
catastrophe of the First Balkan War, and was equalled to the
collapse of the Ottoman state itself. The Bulgarians’ atrocities
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Edirne
and the collaboration of local non-Muslims were the main
story of the city’s surrender as it appeared in contemporary
reports: accounts of pillage, the maltreatment of Prisoners of
War (especially those detained on the island of Sarayiçi, once
the sultans’ hunting preserve, who were left to perish from
hunger and thirst) and the maltreatment of the non-combatant
civil population, including women, appeared regularly in the
press.40 The saga of Edirne during the Bulgarian siege was the
focus of many accounts of the defeat. Contemplating the
dramatic events, much of the ‘memory work’—to quote Jay
Winter and Emmanuel Sivan—went on spontaneously from
below within civil society, and Edirne played a significant role
in this process.41 Many of these accounts were diffused by the
newly established organizations that assisted the Muslim
refugees from the Balkans, who congested the streets and
(p.239) public buildings of Istanbul. Other accounts were
published by officers who had served in the defeated army. All
the reports were imbued with scenes of misery and failure.
To many Ottomans, the desecration of the Selimiye Mosque by

the Bulgarian army, following Edirne’s surrender in March
1913, indicated the extent of Ottoman defeat and humiliation.
In an opposite manner, this was also true for the Bulgarian
propaganda that celebrated the capitulation of Edirne in
postcards showing the portrait of Tsar Ferdinand against the
background of the Selimiye Mosque with the Bulgarian flag
waving on its cupola.42
Starting from the immediate aftermath of the city’s surrender,

the story of the siege prevailed in Ottoman literature. It was
first published in daily newspapers and later in books and
chapters written in Ottoman Turkish, but also in Arabic,
Ladino, French, and possibly in other languages used by
Ottomans as well. The Lebanese author Mahmūd Shihāb
claimed that the siege of Edirne was one of the most
significant blockades in history, placing the city alongside
other famous localities that had endured long sieges, like
Sevastopol and Kars (during the Crimean War), Paris (during
the Franco-Prussian War) and others.43 The siege also
triggered interest outside the Ottoman realm. Publications in
Arabic on the Balkan Wars appeared in Cairo describing both
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Edirne
everyday life and military actions during the defence of
Edirne.44 European eyewitnesses published their memoirs of
the siege in French.45 Some of them were translated into
Ottoman Turkish to indicate that foreign bystanders were also
moved by the experiences of Ottoman citizens besieged in
Edirne.
Following the city’s surrender, apparent restraints were no

longer placed on reporting about the defeat. Even the
governmental press searched for witnesses who could
elaborate on their experiences during the siege. The CUP-
affiliated daily Tanin began serializing, already at the
beginning of April 1913, the translated diary of the French
consul in Edirne, which had previously been published in the
French newspaper Le Matin. This apparently awkward choice,
of using a foreign source to describe the Ottoman debacle,
was justified by the urgent need to publish a first-hand
testimony of events. A promise to publish soon the memories
of one who was part ‘of our race and religion’ (kendi ırk ve
dinimize mensub)46 discloses the new boundaries of the
Ottoman nation. Indeed, two weeks later, on 30 April 1913,
Tanin began to publish a short history (tarihçe) of the siege,
based this time on an interview with Halil Bey Efendi, the
governor of Edirne during the siege, who was asked to present
his own explanations of the military rout and to share some of
his moral lessons with the public.47
(p.240) The besieged city of Edirne became the emotional

symbol of the entire Ottoman defeat during the First Balkan
War. The first book to describe the saga of Edirne during the
siege in Turkish appeared in June 1913. Parts of the book were
published in tandem in İctihad. The authors were the then
young brothers Celadet (1893–1951) and Kâmuran Bedirhan
(1895–1978), later to be known as stern advocates of Kurdish
nationalism.48 They called their book Edirne Sükûtu’nun
İçyüzü (‘The Internal Causes of the Surrender of Edirne’),49
and it formed the most detailed account of the siege. It
included ample evidence of the plight of civilians, in addition
to relating the military aspects of the siege. The book
established the main themes of subsequent Ottoman writing
on the Balkan Wars: an introduction that bemoaned the
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Edirne
unprecedented catastrophes that had befallen the Ottoman
nation and Islam; a farewell to the lost Ottoman lands of the
Balkans; a call for revenge, and the hope to secure a better
future. The youth journal Resimli Mekteb Âlemi included this
book in its list of recommended reading for young people,
praising it for being a sincere and fierce account that should
be read by everyone.50
The saga of the siege also appeared in various publications

produced by minority groups, suggesting slightly different
interpretations. The writings by Jewish witnesses to the siege,
published in Ladino and French, are a case in point. The most
famous testimony is a diary written by Angela Guéron, a
teacher in the Jewish Alliance school for girls in Edirne. While
her diary is a rare testimony to the suffering of the civilian
population within the besieged city, it was kept for decades in
the archives of the Alliance Israélite in Paris and therefore
cannot indicate the interest of Jewish audiences in learning
about the siege.51
Much more telling is the publication of other diaries in the

years immediately following the siege. Their appearance in
cities like Salonica and Sofia indicates the wish of Jewish
readers to gather as much information as possible on the
blockade, in languages accessible to them. Reading such
diaries shows that their main point of view presented the siege
as a glorious case of civilian resistance, in which Jews were
equal participants, against the atrocities of a mighty military
power that did not spare any opportunity to harm the civilian
population so as to force it to surrender.
The diary of an anonymous Jewish inhabitant of Edirne using

the pseudonym Ben Israël (Son of Israel) is an illustrative
example.52 The Hirsch hospital in Salonica, the major Jewish
medical institution in this port-city, published the diary at the
beginning of 1914 in its almanach national. As was usually the
case with such publications, the major aim of this almanac was
to attract contributions (p.241) by offering information on the
hospital and its services, practical general information (Jewish,
Julian and Gregorian calendars, timetable of trains serving
Salonica, municipal services etc.), historical episodes that
were deemed to be of interest to the general audience, and
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Edirne
anecdotes. In its issue of 1914, when already under Greek
control, the hospital chose to publish this diary of the siege of
Edirne, written in French. This choice, made by former
Ottoman citizens who had to accommodate themselves to the
new reality of Greek rule, testifies to the significance of the
drama of Edirne’s siege for Ottoman audiences.
The Bulgarian occupation of Edirne did not end the urge to

continue writing on the city. For Ottoman audiences living in
Istanbul and elsewhere, Edirne’s captivity was often
symbolized through images and reports on the violated
Selimiye Mosque. Ahmed Cevad included several images of
the Selimiye in his Kırmızı Siyah Kitab, one of the most
important volumes dealing with Bulgarian atrocities (see the
Introduction). ‘The treasures of our ancestors are under their
feet’ was his title for one of the most famous paintings of the
Bulgarian occupation. It showed the image of a group of
Bulgarian soldiers standing on the Selimiye’s carpets with
their boots on.53 For the author, occupied Edirne was a
prisoner ‘looking at us for its salvation’.54 In tandem, the press
and civil organizations commemorated the memory of those
who fell during the siege. In early April, for example, the
Association of National Defence, through its branch in Beyoğlu
neighbourhood, organized a public reading of the mevlid-i şerif
in memory of all the war martyrs, and especially of those who
sacrificed themselves in the defence of Edirne.55
The agony of the civil and military population remaining in

Edirne under Bulgarian occupation continued to trouble
Ottoman public opinion. Their misfortunes were told and
retold in various publications. Poems, posters and postcards
implored the Ottoman public not to forget Edirne. The
Committee of National Defence was able to transfer money to
the city though the mediation of the Ottoman embassy in
Vienna.56 Like the writing that aimed to mobilize adults to the
war effort, the misery of Edirne’s children unfolded in writing
and other media catering for children. At the beginning of
June 1913, for example, the children’s weekly Çocuk Dünyası
called its young readers to attend a public conference that
would take place at the University. By giving up their Friday
entertainment money and purchasing a ticket for only 5 kuruş,
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Edirne
the advertisement announced, the children could both benefit
their miserable Turkish brothers (türk kardeşlerine) who had
experienced deprivation in Edirne and hear a stimulating
lecture.57
(p.242) Abdülfeyyaz Tevfik [Yergök], as another example,

wrote in the Talebe Defteri about Edirne’s agonies following
the Bulgarian conquest. Showing his young audience the
above-mentioned image of the Bulgarian soldiers standing
bewildered in their dirty battle uniforms inside the Selimiye
Mosque, he tried to instil in them the urge to take revenge on
the Bulgarian foes: ‘Today, yes even today, this is not a place
of worship (ma‘bed); it must become the monument (âbide) of
revenge that will open the Turks’ eyes wide and boil their
blood.’ It was the children’ duty, he reiterated, to eradicate
this stain (leke).58
This survey of Ottoman writings about the siege of Edirne and

the Bulgarian occupation reveals the city’s significance for
Ottoman audiences. It can also explain the prominent place
given to Edirne in Ottoman descriptions of the defeat.
Therefore, it is not surprising to find that Edirne’s unexpected
return to Ottoman rule was received with enthusiasm and
emotional relief that the CUP government was happy to use
for its own ends.
Return to Ottoman Rule: ‘Normalization’ of Life

and Reprisals
The Bulgarian occupation of Edirne lasted only a few months.
With the outbreak of the Second Balkan War in July 1913, the
Bulgarian army hastily evacuated the city in its desperate
attempt to save the capital Sofia from the onslaught of the
Romanian army advancing on it from the north. The Ottomans
ignored European protests; Ottoman units under the command
of Enver Bey, ‘the hero of liberty’, retook Edirne as well as
most parts of Eastern Thrace. In July 1913 the reinstatement
of Edirne (istirdad-ı Edirne), as the Ottoman bureaucracy and
media called the retaking of the city, drew hugely enthusiastic
responses. Many Ottomans who wrote down their memories of
the Balkan Wars elaborated their emotional response upon
hearing the news of Edirne’s liberation. Some of them learned
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Edirne
about this event from reading newspapers, others heard it
while being kept prisoners in POW camps. For Ottomans, the
liberation of Edirne was above all an act of salvation and
liberation. Some of them reflected this sense of redemption in
their writings.
The author Râif Necdet recounted in his memoirs of captivity

in Sofia that when he heard the first rumours of the Ottoman
liberation of Edirne, the Ottoman ‘sacred Alsace–Lorraine’, he
was thrilled. Necdet used the most enthusiastic terms to
describe his feelings when he heard the news of Edirne’s
liberation. Still a POW in Bulgaria, he described that day as
the happiest, the most exceptional and the most significant of
his life. He described his emotions in a language that
borrowed heavily from Islam. For him, the liberation (p.243) of
holy and oppressed (mazlûm) Edirne was a sacred revenge
that was a totally justified and holy act. For him, Edirne was
the sacred kabe of the nation situated on the blessed shores of
the Meriç and Tunca Rivers, which the Bulgarians had turned
into hell.59
Indeed, the adjective ‘sacred’ appeared repeatedly in the

writings and the ceremonies accompanying the restoration of
Ottoman rule in Edirne. The young poet Necmeddin Sahir
[Sılan, 1896–1992] published his poem ‘Edirne’ in the first
issue of Tan, a new Turkish nationalist periodical published in
Izmir. The closing lines of the first verse exclaimed ‘…When
the glorious and sacred army entered Edirne to take revenge,
the cruel enemy retreated and fled defeated.’ The realm of the
sacred, as the anthropologists Sally Moore and Barbara
Myerhoff have demonstrated, should not be regarded as ‘co-
terminous’ with the realm of the religious. For them, the
sacred is, rather, ‘a wider category than the religious’ and this
notion of a realm whose essential quality is its
‘unquestionability’ is crucial for understanding the Ottoman
shaping of the image of Edirne and their claim to an
unquestionable right to rule it.60
The regaining of Edirne was celebrated by the entire Ottoman

press, with variations in nuance and style according to the
journals’ audiences. The pan-Islamic İslam Dünyası celebrated
the conquest of ‘our Edirne’ by the ‘Muslim soldiers’, who
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Edirne
brought an end to the suffering of the whole Muslim world and
all the nations of the East. Indeed, the journal mentioned that
when Edirne surrendered, some Japanese newspapers in
Tokyo published the news in a black border.61 The children’s
press described the Ottoman march on Edirne in a style of
writing assumed to suit children’s taste better. On 23 July
1913, the day Edirne was liberated, the Çocuk Dünyası drew
the attention of its young readers to the city by offering them
a riddle: ‘I am a five-letter beloved place. In just a while, if I do
not stop my march forward, I will fight again. If you omit my
first letter, you will send me to Tripolitania.’ Those clever
children who were able to solve the riddle would get the
answer Edirne (as written in Arabic letters); the place in
Tripolitania alluded to was Darna, one of the major battlefields
of the recent Libyan War where Ottoman soldiers were able to
hold out against the Italians.62
Following the Ottoman army’s entry to Edirne, a kind of

normality began to return after the violent turmoil of the siege
and the occupation. Already on 11 July, Hacı Âdil Bey [Arda,
1869–1935], a prominent Unionist and a former governor of
Edirne, reclaimed that position and announced the return of
security and calm to the city.63 In the following days, other
senior officials of the province returned to Edirne to resume
their functions. This was an opportunity (p.244) for the
governor to reiterate the city’s inhabitants’ need for
governmental assistance.64 The process of ‘normalization’ of
life meant the restoration of damaged infrastructure and the
return of looted property. It likewise included cases of reprisal
and punishment that were described in the Ottoman press as
being conducted in an orderly fashion and according to due
legal process. This was also a crucial time for the boundaries
of the Ottoman community to be redrawn in different arenas
such as the press, law courts, official state agencies, and also
in the streets, during random encounters between accusers
and accused. The religious minorities found themselves
constantly challenged with regard to their alleged behaviour
during the Bulgarian occupation.
While the Ottoman press emphasized the return to routine, it

is clear that the situation remained tense for a while. In early
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Edirne
August the Ottoman press was still reporting the capture of
Bulgarian soldiers who were somehow left behind and
unearthed while trying to hide in Edirne and its vicinity. The
search for such enemy soldiers still continued, cautioned the
Ottoman press.65 Even at the beginning of September there
were still reports of Bulgarian armed irregulars active in the
villages around Edirne. Two children were playing with a
bomb they had found in an empty shop and were severely
injured.66 These incidents got reported in the margins of the
press. The wish to indicate that life in Edirne had returned to
normality following the Ottoman entry to the city had an
urgency prompted by those among the Great Powers who
wished to reverse the Ottoman achievement and return the
city to Bulgarian rule, as determined in the London
Agreement. Such fears subsided by the end of September,
when the peace agreement with Bulgaria acknowledged
Ottoman rule over Edirne. Yet, the Ottoman authorities
remained on alert regarding Bulgarian intentions on Edirne. In
April 1914, the Ministry of Internal Affairs notified the
governor of Edirne that, following an examination of the future
status of the Bulgarian metropolitan church in the city, it was
decided that only a monk (rahib) would be allowed to conduct
religious ceremonies, without receiving any official
recognition.67 Two years after the conclusion of the Second
Balkan War, in September 1915, under German pressure, the
Ottoman Empire had to relinquish the suburb of Karaağaç
(where the railway station of Edirne was located) to Bulgaria
in order to secure its entry to the First Woeld War on the side
of the Central Powers. The Ottoman authorities were alerted
by the Bulgarian decision to rename the suburb ‘Odrin’, the
Bulgarian name of Edirne.68
In mid-October 1913, the reappointed governor of Edirne,

Hacı Âdil Bey, estimated that about 35,000 family units (hane)
had been totally destroyed in Edirne, while another 5,000
family units had been partially destroyed. On the (p.245) basis
of calculating five members per family unit, he estimated the
number of those left without housing as about 200,000. The
arrival of refugees further exacerbated the housing crisis.69
We can assume that these significant numbers related to the
whole region of Edirne, including the rural areas that were
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Edirne
damaged the most. Various projects of restoration for
liberated Edirne were initiated by the central authorities.
Part of the Ottoman attempt to claim that their return to the

city meant the restoration of normal life was by their
demonstrations of rejoicing at the reinstatement of Ottoman
rule, as shared by all the civilian population. As long as the
future of Edirne was still debated, the Ottoman authorities did
their best to win over the local non-Muslim populations, other
than the Bulgarians. Examples of this attitude are plentiful.
One telling initiative appeared in the Jewish press a few days
after the Ottoman entry to Edirne. On 28 July 1913 El Tiempo
published a joint communiqué in Ladino translation, by the
Metropolitan of the Greek community, the Mufti, the Chief
Rabbi, and the representative of the Armenian community
(nasión arména). The communiqué was addressed to the
Ottoman grand vizier. In the communiqué the spiritual leaders
denounced the atrocities (atrosidades) performed by Bulgarian
soldiers and authorities against the Muslim and non-Muslim
population of the city during its occupation, and assured the
grand vizier of their ‘attachment to the Ottoman
motherland’.70
The forming of a united front in which all segments of the local

population took part (with the major exception of the small
Bulgarian community, who hurriedly abandoned the city
following the Bulgarian retreat) was further sustained by
another initiative encouraged by the Ottoman authorities. A
delegation consisting of local Muslims, Greeks, Jews and
Armenians was hastily dispatched to Europe to protest against
the Bulgarians’ atrocities and to implore the European powers
to refrain from allowing Edirne’s return to the ‘Bulgarian
yoke’.71 The delegation’s expenses were covered by the
Association of National Defence which, as I will show below,
played an important role in all the events celebrating Edirne’s
return to Ottoman rule.72 However, presenting such a common
front reminiscent of the ‘spirit of 1908’ was not always
maintained. According to the Jewish press, at least, their
Christian co-citizens in Edirne—both Greeks and Armenians—
did their best to defame the Jews by claiming that they
welcomed the Bulgarian occupation. The Jews, for their part,
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Edirne
made similar accusations against the Christian inhabitants of
Edirne.73
The accommodating attitude of the Ottoman local authorities

towards the local non-Muslims apparently changed after the
final decision to leave Edirne (p.246) as part of the Ottoman
Empire in September 1913. The press reported some legal
actions being taken against those assisting the Bulgarian
authorities during their occupation of the city. The reports
underscored the claim that these judicial steps were
implemented in firm adherence to the law. Apparently all
culprits were from the non-Muslim population. In its issue of
January 1914, the province’s official weekly, Edirne, published
a list of several local Christians who were summoned to court
on charges of looting after Edirne’s surrender to the Bulgarian
army. As they all escaped justice, they were given ten days to
appear in court. In the case of no shows, they would lose all
their citizenship privileges and their property would be
confiscated.74
In the face of growing pressure, the remaining non-Muslim

communities (Greeks, Jews and Armenians) did their best to
declare their loyalty publicly to the Ottoman state and to
refute any allegation of cooperation with the Bulgarians
during the occupation. One way of combatting harassment, in
the case of the Jews, was to submit petitions through the
mediation of the traditional Jewish leadership, the Chief
Rabbinate. Thus, for example, La Boz de la Verdad, a Jewish
weekly published in Edirne, reported that a certain Hakkı
Efendi, a high official (kapo komisaryo) in the Edirne
municipality, inflicted a fine (djezá) of 25 kuruş on a Jew,
claiming that ‘during the time of the Bulgarians, you did not
act with mercy towards us’. The Chief Rabbi submitted a
protest against this official. In response, Hakkı Efendi
tendered his apologies and promised to choose his words
better in future.75
The punishment of collaborators with the Bulgarian

authorities was an integral part of Edirne’s reintegration into
Ottoman rule and the wish to settle accounts with those who
had taken advantage of the previous regime. The requests of
Ottoman citizens to receive compensation (tazminât) for
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Edirne
property confiscated by the Bulgarian authorities were equally
reported. An ad hoc commission was established to return
property that was looted during the Bulgarian occupation to
its rightful owners. The Commission for Looted Property
(Emval-i Menhûba Komisyonu) consisted of the local head of
police, the commander of the gendarmerie and a justice of the
peace (the lowest level of the judiciary, sulh hâkimi).76
Later, a special commission in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
assessed losses and took charge of compensation for the
provisions and animals taken by the Bulgarian army in return
for the notorious raspiska during the Bulgarian occupation of
Edirne.77 They evaluated the price of the confiscated items as
approximately 33 million francs.78 The commission, located in
Paris, invited Ottoman citizens to submit claims for
compensation for their looted property. Issues of
compensation and reprisals certainly (p.247) accompanied the
restoration of Ottoman rule in Edirne. However, for the time
being, most attention was given to celebrating the town’s
return to Ottoman hands by sundry commemorative events.
Spontaneous Celebrations
The Ottoman retaking of Edirne was first of all celebrated on a
personal level, as testified in contemporary memoirs. The
press referred to spontaneous expressions of joy that they
witnessed among the liberated civil population. Often
accompanied by impromptu military parades or ceremonies,
local Muslims, Greeks and Jews celebrated their salvation in
small villages and towns. Such, for example, was the
celebration in neighbouring Keşan on 23 July as described by
the Tanin reporter. Soldiers and officers of the Çanakkale
division that liberated Keşan, together with civilians,
spontaneously gathered in front of the government building to
celebrate 10 July. The official announcement of the liberation
of Kırk Kilise and Edirne stirred up the celebrating crowds
further, as ‘thousands of Muslims responded with thankful
voices’ (avaze-yi şükraniyle). However, this joy and the early
scenes of renewal and restoration, the reporter commented,
could not conceal the gruesome remains that testified to the
Bulgarian atrocities.79 Such popular and spontaneous
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Edirne
celebrations characterized the first days of Ottoman rule in
Eastern Thrace.
Celebrating Victory, Rejuvenation and

Purification
The Ottoman Army entered Edirne on 23 July, the Ottoman
national holiday commemorating the revolution of 1908. The
symbolism of this date, which united the return of liberty to
the Ottoman nation and the return of liberty to Edirne,
enabled the Ottoman authorities to stage mass celebrations.
At last, Ottoman journals reported, after two years during
which the national day had been engulfed in sorrowful
mourning and catastrophe, the liberation of Edirne and Kırk
Kilise brought immense enthusiasm which associated 10/23
July, now the day of ‘two national celebrations’, with
spontaneous joy and patriotic ceremonies.80 Different reports
provide evidence of how Edirne’s liberation was integrated
into the discourse of national renewal.
For the Ottoman authorities, Edirne’s liberation offered a

long-awaited opportunity to make a public show of their own
narrative of the Balkan Wars and to prove their claim to lead
Ottoman society towards the future. (p.248) Furthermore, the
entry of Ottoman troops into Edirne did not put an end to the
debate about the city’s future. The celebrations of Edirne’s
liberation, therefore, also aimed to emphasize the Islamic and
Ottoman character of the city and thus to refute any Bulgarian
claim over it. By ‘sanctifying’ Edirne in the name of Ottoman
nationhood and heritage, the Ottomans hoped to place the city
outside diplomatic compromises and debates.
The ceremonies, therefore, were directed both inwards,

meaning to Ottoman society (often only to its Muslim
members); and outwards, to the European powers and in
defiance of their policy of maintaining the Enez–Midye line as
the recognized border of the Ottoman state with Bulgaria. The
ceremonies highlighted the Ottoman resolve and commitment
to keep Edirne under their sovereignty despite intense
international pressure. The idea was to shape a venerated
tradition in which public celebration had a crucial role.
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Edirne
The liberation of Edirne was celebrated through an array of
local events. The ceremonies could also be interpreted as
rituals of legitimacy in which the Young Turk government
attempted to persuade the public of its ability to rejuvenate
the nation by implementing military reforms and initiating a
firm foreign policy vis-à-vis the European powers. The
Selimiye Mosque formed the main and sacred site of national
and religious commemoration. The central theme of the
celebrations in the mosque was related to its previous
desecration at the hands of Bulgarian soldiers and the
subsequent religious purification. Discussing the symbolic role
of military parades, Maoz Azaryahu highlights the ability of
such political rituals to celebrate and confirm such loci as the
symbolic centres of national life. These political rituals should
be seen as the ceremonial structures of national holidays and
belong to the patriotic traditions of modern nationalism. As
such, they serve as a mechanism for both inclusion and
exclusion, legitimating power structures and discourses and
representing relations within society.81 The Selimiye Mosque
provided a similar pre-eminent symbol for the organizers of
the celebrations, as it was turned into the focus of the rituals,
rhetoric and ceremonies of the city’s liberation and
purification and the nation’s rejuvenation.
The festive ceremonies attempted to construct an image of a

victorious nation and its daring and triumphant army,
represented by the young and combative image of Enver Bey.
As such, these ceremonies represented a change in Ottoman
patriotic culture. One teacher, Hasan Urfan, saw the liberation
of Edirne as a step towards the Ottoman return to Rumeli and
the reclaiming of the glorious tradition of conquests that was
seemingly lost in the First Balkan War.82 The comparison
between the ceremonies conducted since 1908 to
commemorate (p.249) the Young Turk revolution and the
ceremonial rituals celebrating Edirne’s liberation is
illuminating. In 1908, popular celebrations meant spreading
the inclusive messages of freedom, equality and fraternity of
all Ottomans. The Edirne celebrations, by contrast, were
constructed according to a clear ceremonial agenda that
provided a sort of ‘meta-narrative’ of purification and
rejuvenation. The different ceremonies were permeated with
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Edirne
religious terminology and rituals. The Young Turk government
allocated a significant role to the incumbent sultan and his
family in these ceremonies. As such they provided a
ceremonial convergence of messages related to Islam, the
Ottoman dynasty and the Young Turk agenda of reform and
independent foreign policy and economy. They also
demonstrated Ottoman defiance of the West and its repeated
meddling in Ottoman affairs. These were new emphases that
were incorporated into the celebrations forming the
ceremonial foundations of the new Ottoman patriotic culture.
Their inception was meant to send a clear message regarding
the Young Turk political, social and cultural agenda.
The celebrations contained two main features: the

philanthropy of the sultan and his household towards Edirne,
and expeditions by train transporting Ottoman citizens to the
city. While the first feature highlighted the role of the sultanic
family, the second was directed towards the masses. Both
features merged around the Selimiye Mosque and other
imperial mosques, as well as their purification and restoration.
In a similar manner, we can find references to both the
members of the sultanic family and to the visiting crowds
regarding their gratitude to the Ottoman army, and to Enver
Bey, for securing the city for the Ottoman nation.
Shaping an Imperial and Islamic Icon

Edirne’s transformation from a mainly civic icon into a
religious one appeared already prior to the entry of Ottoman
troops into the city, when it was not yet clear whether the
Ottoman army would defy the Europeans’ resolve to deter it
from crossing the Enez–Midye line. This trend is exemplified
by the poet Fâik Âli [Ozansoy, 1876–1950], who urged the
army to march on the city. In his poem ‘The Army on the
Routes to Edirne’ (Ordu Edirne Yollarında), he called Edirne
‘the Ka‘ba of Honour’ (Edirne işte bugün Kâbe, Kâbe-yi
namus), thus equating the city with Islam’s holiest site.83
Another poet, Eşref Nesib, published his poem ‘Edirne’ in the
children’s periodical Çocuk Duygusu at the end of 1914. This
poem, originally written a few days after the city’s liberation,
extolled the victory of the Crescent over the Cross.84 The
Muslim heritage of (p.250) the city was proudly displayed on
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Edirne
stamps, as well. During this period, stamps became an
important vehicle for transmitting political messages. The
Ottoman Ministry of Post and Telegraph issued a series of
coloured Edirne stamps to commemorate the city’s recapture
(figure 9). The stamps could be purchased only in post offices
situated in Istanbul and Edirne. They were intended to be used
for postage exclusively inside the Ottoman realm, thus for
Ottoman audiences. For some unclear reason, the stamps
could be used for only one month. All remaining stamps would
later be destroyed.85 The issuing of the Edirne stamps denotes
another change in Ottoman policy following the Balkan Wars,
this time in Ottoman philatelic policy. These were the first
stamps in the brief history of Ottoman philately to depict
images instead of the usual sultan’s tuğra (monogram). The
Selimiye Mosque was chosen to symbolize the liberated city.86
The Edirne stamps were not the only opportunity to use the
Selimiye Mosque as an emblem of the liberated city. As part of
the effort to restore Ottoman suzerainty over Edirne, special
attention was given to the restoration of the city’s imposing
mosques. Indeed, the first Ottoman action in the city following
its liberation was the restoration, or purification, of Edirne’s
mosques, especially the Selimiye Mosque. In reports on the
repair works conducted in Edirne, publicists used medical
language, calling Edirne’s restoration ‘cleansing operations’.
It is interesting to note that indeed, during the restoration of
the Selimiye, the damage of a cannon ball was left untouched
near the sultanic mahfil (a special raised and decorated
platform used for the sultan’s prayer), to commemorate the
intentional damage inflicted upon the mosque by the
Bulgarians. When Atatürk, the first president of the Turkish
Republic, visited the mosque in 1930, he decided that this
relic should be preserved to serve as eternal testimony.87 This
wish reflects the enduring symbolism of the Balkan Wars, at
least in Edirne, to the Turkish Republic.
The Selimiye was not the only mosque to suffer damage during
the First Balkan War. The most visible damage was done to
the fifteenth-century Üç Şerefeli mosque, where the conical
roof of the minaret was demolished. At the beginning of
August 1913 the restoration of the minaret was almost
completed. The renowned Ottoman architect Kemaleddin Bey,
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Edirne
who was then serving as chief architect in the Ministry of
Endowments and was known as ‘the national architect’ (millî
mi‘mar), was summoned to comment on the restoration.88 In
an interview with Tanin he assured the reporter that the
damage caused to the city’s famous mosque was not so serious
and that a limited amount of investment should enable the full
restoration.89 Leading officials (p.251)
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Edirne
and military
officers
contributed
different
items to the
Selimiye:
İsmail Hakk
Paşa, the
army
9. The Edirne stamps showing the

Selimiye Mosque issued by the Ottoman
postage authorities, October 1913.
(Author’s collection).
quartermaster (levazim reisi), donated a valuable plate (levha),

on which the Arabic words min Allah al-tawfīq (‘Success is
from God’) were embroidered on scarlet satin.90
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Edirne
The significance of the imperial mosques for the CUP surfaced
again in a programme that was suggested by its Edirne branch
in 1333 [1916/17] to the CUP annual congress meeting in the
city. The congress discussed the various needs of the province
of Edirne and its significance, due to its political importance.
It proposed various infrastructure projects to do with
transport, agriculture, health, education and administration
that would enable the city to (p.252) provide services to the
whole province and enable the accommodation of further
refugees. Particular attention was given to the restoration of
several imperial mosques through the funds of pious
endowments. In addition, several other mosques in the city
and its province were designated for restoration.91
Notwithstanding the party’s involvement in initiating new
projects in Edirne, it is clear that the main task of restoring
the city’s religious infrastructure was entrusted to the sultan.
Philanthropy by the Sultan

While Ottoman poets, authors and painters and also politicians
certainly contributed to the focus on Edirne’s historical and
religious attributes, it was the incumbent sultan and the
sultanic family who were able to boost the image of the city as
an emblem of Islam and the Ottoman Empire. This imperial
philanthropy towards Edirne drew upon a well-established
tradition of imperial endowments and construction, going back
all the way to the conquest of Edirne by Sultan Murad I.
Thanks to this continuous imperial investment, Edirne was
endowed with some of its most impressive mosques, medreses
and libraries. However, as Edirne’s fortunes declined for
various reasons from the eighteenth century onwards,
imperial philanthropy was channelled elsewhere. Thus, for
example, Abdülhamid II, who used public philanthropy widely
to boost his image as a pious ruler, did not invest much in
Edirne. Later Ottoman construction in the city was initiated by
the state, rather than the sultanic family, and highlighted
Edirne’s role as the administrative, military, communication
and transport hub of a vilâyet.
Edirne’s liberation enabled the sultan’s family to return to the

spotlight. Hakan Karateke points out that war was
traditionally used by Ottoman sultans as a way to legitimate
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Edirne
their power. The dynasty used military victories to celebrate
the image of the incumbent sultan as ‘a brave champion of
Islam, who captured new territories for the Faith’. This
promotion of the Ottoman sultans’ martial image continued
even when Ottoman victories became obsolete. Departures to
war and returns from military fronts were celebrated in
Istanbul through public festivals offering all kinds of
entertainment to the people of the city.92
The ceremonies around the return of Edirne celebrated the

image of the sultan not as a warrior, but as a benefactor who
distributed assistance and care to Edirne’s inhabitants and its
Islamic heritage. The sultan did not claim any part in the
military and diplomatic achievements; they were related
exclusively (p.253) to the army and its commanders, and to
the CUP leadership (which of course included some of the
senior military commanders). However, the sultan and his
household played a major role in the restoration of the city’s
Muslim and Ottoman heritage. This was his only niche in the
celebrations. The Ottoman family’s devotion to the city was
publicly manifested in a series of donations and charitable acts
on behalf of Edirne’s poor, and the recapturing of the city’s
lost Muslim legacy. While one report published in the local
Jewish press reported the sultan handing out charity to the
poor of all religions, his philanthropy was mainly directed
towards sustaining Edirne’s Muslim character through
investing in the restoration of the city’s largest mosques and
libraries—all testimonies to the commitment of previous
sultans to glorify the city.93 Equally important were the official
visits of senior members of the sultan’s household to Edirne.
Official correspondence and press reports enable us to follow

the sequence of sultanic bequests to the liberated city. At the
centre of the sultan’s philanthropy was the restoration of the
Selimiye Mosque and its Islamic treasures. The Sultan himself
sent new carpets and a Qur’an from his private collection,
which arrived in the city by special train. On 25 September
1913, the reappointed governor of Edirne, Hacı Âdil Bey,
notified the Ministry of Internal Affairs that a photograph of
the sultan’s portrait (tasvir-i hümayun), adorned with the
sovereign’s emblem, had been donated. The sultan conferred
his portrait as a special token of appreciation towards the city
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Edirne
and its inhabitants.94 As will be discussed below, the sultan
himself did not come to visit Edirne but dispatched some of
the senior members of his household. Sending his official
photograph to the people of Edirne was probably meant to
serve as a kind of modern substitute reflecting his respect for
the city. Another means of indicating the sultan’s favourable
attitude towards the city’s inhabitants was to receive a
delegation of the city’s representatives, headed by the local
mufti, who arrived in Istanbul to thank the sultan for his
generosity. As an additional sultanic favour, a special carriage
from the sultan’s stables was dispatched to convey the mufti
to visit the Hırka-i Saadet, the palace room in which the
mantle of the Prophet and other sacred relics were kept,
where the mufti received a decoration of honour and ten
handkerchiefs (destimal) that were kept in this most sacred
part of the palace.95 Before returning to Edirne by train, the
delegation met with Talât Bey, the Minister of Internal
Affairs.96
Additional sultanic presents continued to arrive. About two

weeks later, the governor of Edirne informed the Ministry of
Internal Affairs of the imminent arrival by train of a few
carpets which the sultan bestowed upon the Muradiye (p.254)
mosque in Edirne, built in 1435 by Sultan Murad II (r.1421–44

and 1446–51).97 The contamination of carpets in the mosques
by the Bulgarians’ muddy boots was one of the potent symbols
of Ottoman defeat in the First Balkan War. The refurbishing of
the mosques with carpets offered by the sultan was intended
to erase the memory of the rout and to compensate the city for
its looted cultural property.
Among the pillaged sacred items were manuscripts. In

December 1913, the Ladino newspaper El Tiempo published a
short report about a ceremony in the Selimiye Mosque
celebrating the return of a famous manuscript donated by
Sultan Murad. The manuscript, kept in the mosque’s library,
had been plundered during the Bulgarian occupation and lost.
After it was found in Vienna, the sultan paid 3,000 francs for
its purchase and eventual return to Edirne.98 Another treasure
stolen from the Selimiye Mosque, which also found its way to
auction in Vienna, was an embroidered cloak (hırka or hilat).
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Edirne
The Ottoman Embassy in Vienna recaptured (bilistridad) the
cloak and delivered it to the Ministry of Endowments.99 It was
claimed that Bulgarian officers put the cloak up for auction in
Vienna.100
The relations between the CUP and the sultan regarding the
Edirne celebrations are not easy to determine. How much of
the sultanic philanthropy was initiated by the sultan and his
entourage, and how much actually stemmed from
governmental agents? To be sure, the CUP governments used
the image of Mehmed Reşad, the incumbent sultan, to
promote their agenda already before the Balkan Wars. His
nomination as sultan in April 1909 instead of his dethroned
brother, Abdülhamid II, was an outcome of the Young Turk
revolution. Therefore, it is not surprising to find that his image
was constructed from the beginning of his rule as the latter’s
opposite. Sultan Mehmed Reşad represented the genre of
enlightened, constitutional and modern sultan; while his
brother embodied all the evils of the previous despotic ancien
régime.101 Following his accession to the throne, the new
sultan visited the old Ottoman capital cities of Bursa and
Edirne. Probably more significant was his official tour of the
Ottoman Balkans in the summer of 1911, which can serve as
one illustrative example of how the CUP hoped to use the
sultan’s visit to calm the ongoing turmoil in Macedonia and
Kosovo.102 More to the point, we know that the Ministry of
Internal Affairs closely monitored these ceremonies organized
by the palace in Edirne and endeavoured to collect as much
information as it could from local officials. Keeping a watchful
eye on the charitable activity of the sultanic family may
indicate the CUP’s ambivalent attitude towards the sultan’s
charity: on the one hand, his public philanthropy in (p.255)
Edirne could glorify the victory achieved by the CUP

government and promote the Ottoman claim over Edirne; on
the other hand, the sultan’s growing presence in the official
celebrations accompanying the city’s liberation could put the
CUP government in the shade.103 However, if such concerns
did exist, it is clear that the benefits of sultanic philanthropy
were perceived as contributing to the Ottoman cause, and
were thus publicly promoted and supported in the CUP press.
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Edirne
Enver Bey and the Liberation of Edirne
Whereas the liberation of Edirne emphasized the sultan’s
image as a pious ruler, it also strengthened Enver Bey’s image
as a brave and smart military commander and diplomat. For
many, Edirne imparted the lesson that only the use of military
force could save the empire. Enver Bey, in one of the
interviews he gave the press after his nomination to the
Ministry of War at the beginning of 1914, tellingly ridiculed
the former anti-CUP grand vizier, Kâmil Paşa, for putting his
trust in the British during the First Balkan War.104
Enver Bey was not the first Ottoman commander to owe his
glory to his military service during the Balkan Wars. As shown
above, Şükrü Paşa symbolized the army’s determination to
defend Edirne during the long siege. However, while he was
certainly perceived as a symbol of bravery, his fame was
nevertheless related to defeat and captivity (and in any case
he was kept prisoner in Bulgaria until October 1913). Rauf Bey
[Orbay], the commander of the light cruiser Hamidiye,
received much fame thanks to the ship’s successful exploits
during the Balkan Wars.105 However, Enver Bey could claim
the recovery of lost Ottoman territory, an achievement that
had been totally unknown for a long period.
The Second Balkan War brought on a new type of victorious

hero whose achievements were translated into restoring
Ottoman and Islamic rule and liberation. Naim Turfan rightly
observes that by reclaiming Edirne, the Young Turk officers
could claim valour and heroism. This single victory ‘appears to
have negated at a stroke any blame which might justifiably
have been attributed to the military for the preceding losses in
the Balkans, including that of Edirne’.106 Enver Bey was able
to reconstruct his image, thanks to his ability to promote
himself as the best-known representation of the victorious
officer among the people. He could claim such a victorious
image because of the decisions he made during July 1913. The
celebrations of Edirne emphasized Enver Bey’s role as the
city’s saviour. His moustachioed portrait against the (p.256)
background of Edirne’s landscape appeared on posters,

postcards and other visual items. For Enver Bey, these were
additional feathers in his cap, as he was already known as ‘the
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Edirne
hero of liberty’ due to his role during the 1908 revolution. It is
clear that the CUP hoped that Enver Bey’s image as the
liberator of Edirne would touch a deep chord in the popular
imagination. Indeed, in May 1914, when Enver was promoted
to the Ministry of War holding the military title of Paşa, İctihad
celebrated this nomination with an interview conducted by the
editor, Dr Abdullah Cevdet, with the new minister. In its
introduction, the editorial extolled Enver for his role in
liberating Edirne, ‘the only significant remaining Turkish city
in Europe’. The liberation of this holy city, with its sacred
heritage for the Islamic world and Turkey (Türkiye), was
achieved only through Enver’s bravery and cleverness. Dr
Abdullah Cevdet was happy to reiterate Enver’s words upon
the city’s liberation: ‘For the Turks, to withdraw alive from
Edirne is not an option’ (Artık Edirne’den Türk için diri olarak
çıkmak yok).107
Constructing a Patriotic Pilgrimage

The other main feature of the celebrations, based on mass
participation, was the train expeditions to the liberated city
organized by the Association of National Defence. These visits
to the liberated city were staged as a patriotic pilgrimage
imbued with both patriotic and religious meanings. As is often
the case with religious and secular pilgrimages, the idea was
to create a journey ‘to a landscape saturated with meaning,
and return home to an everyday world, exhausted but
renewed, altered or strengthened by the experience’.108
Although they were only visitors, their ‘patriotic pilgrimage’
expressed deep attachment to the city and commitment to the
Ottoman cause.
The sultanic household played a major role not only in

distributing charity to the inhabitants of Edirne, but also in
supporting these expeditions, often described as patriotic
pilgrimages, for which the members of the sultan’s family
were certainly the guests of honour. However, these
pilgrimages catered for much larger audiences representing
the Ottoman nation. The practice of supporting public
celebrations had a long heritage in Ottoman history.
Traditionally, Ottoman sultans staged public celebrations to
mark religious holidays, significant moments in the dynasty’s
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Edirne
life cycle (circumcisions of princes etc.) and military victories.
This was true also of other contemporary Islamic dynasties.
Discussing public religious rituals during the late Qajar period
and their support by the ruling elite, Kamran Scot Aghaie has
indicated (p.257) that an analysis of these rituals can ‘give
glimpses of social, cultural, and political discourse during this
period’.109
The organized visits to Edirne were a means of bringing

together the army, the Ottoman dynasty and the population in
the framework of a political ritual. They were highly
formalized performances and impressive spectacles. These
trips provided the visitors with the intensive experience of
emotional identification with the victims of the Bulgarian
atrocities. They reflected unity and loyalty. Already on 25 July
1913, El Tiempo reported that Salih Paşa, first aide-de-camp
(ser-i yaver) of the sultan, and İbrahim Bey, the CUP Minister
of Justice, had left the previous evening on board a special
train to Edirne. The sultan ordered Salih Paşa to transmit to
the Ottoman soldiers his feelings of satisfaction at the taking
of Edirne. According to the schedule, İbrahim Bey would
perform the Friday prayers in the Selimiye.110 This first
expedition also included Hacı Hakkı Bey, the secretary of the
sultan’s Privy Purse (ceb-i hümayun), who was entrusted by
the sultan to deliver 2,000 lira to the poor of Edirne, following
the prayers in the Selimiye.111 This was the sultan’s first act of
philanthropy towards liberated Edirne.
The Ottoman Crown Prince, Yusuf İzzeddin Efendi (1857–

1916), and Prince Ziyaeddin, the incumbent sultan’s eldest son
(1873–1938), visited Kırk Kilise, another major site of the First
Balkan War, a few days later before continuing to Edirne.112
This was the climax of the official visits to liberated Edirne.
The journalist Muhyiddin Bey, working for Tanin, accompanied
the Crown Prince and his entourage of 43 dignitaries on the
train journey to Edirne. This was an opportunity to conduct a
long interview with the Crown Prince, in which he emphasized
Edirne’s Ottoman legacy, the Ottomans’ right to hold the city
after its salvation from the hands of their enemies and their
determination to defy all adversaries.113 The Ottoman press
followed the honourable visit of a senior member of the
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Edirne
sultanic family, reported on the Crown Prince’s reception and
visits in the city, and published the correspondence between
the Crown Prince and the sultan in which the joy and the
gratitude of the local population was presented at length. The
last stop on the Crown Prince’s visit was the Selimiye Mosque,
already the symbolic focal point and mandatory for any visit to
the city. It is clear from this report that unlike the earlier
constitutional period, the figures of the sultan and other
members of his household once again embodied the Ottoman
nation and were active participants in the ceremonies that
redefined its new boundaries.114
Edirne witnessed the continuing arrival of high officials. On 8

December El Tiempo reported that Prince Halim Paşa, the new
grand vizier, accompanied (p.258) by the Minister of the
Interior and Justice, were received in Edirne. Their visit
celebrated the recovery of another lost treasure looted by the
Bulgarians. The honourable visitors arrived on Friday at the
Selimiye Mosque to pray and to attend the ceremony of the
restoration of the famous cloak, mentioned above. Among the
invitees were the local Muslim personnel and representatives
of the local non-Muslim communities, including the Chief
Rabbi of Edirne, Haim Bidjarano (1846–1931).115 A gala
reception was held on Saturday evening at the Municipal Hall
in honour of the Grand Vizier. The Ladino journal was glad to
inform its readers that during the banquet the Chief Rabbi
proclaimed the happiness of the local Jews at being again ‘the
children of our cherished fatherland’.116
However, not only high dignitaries honoured the liberated city

with their official visits-cum-pilgrimages. One of the major
modes of celebration was the organization of public tours
around the liberated city. With the assistance of the
Association of National Defence, the Ministry of Internal
Affairs under Talât Bey transformed the city into a major site
of popular pilgrimage. Islam often provided the language and
the imagery for the ceremonies. The Islamic weekly
Sebilürreşad employed during those glorious days terminology
that was clearly related to the hajj pilgrimage to the holy
places to Islam in Hejaz: ‘to visit a capital city of Islam, the
sublime place of worship [built by] Sultan Selim, that was
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Edirne
saved by divine favour from the Cross’s claws of oppression, is
a duty, an obligation incumbent on every Muslim who is
capable of performing it’.117 This type of public pilgrimage and
commemoration was closely related to the complex issues of
national identity and shaping of the wars’ memory—to borrow
from David W. Lloyd’s discussion of the battlefield tourism
that developed in Britain following the First World War.118 The
archives of the Ministry of Internal Affairs in Istanbul and
press reports enable us to follow the schedule of these events
in detail. The Association of National Defence organized train
tours to the liberated city from the end of July.119 These
expeditions, called ‘the National Defence Trains’ (müdafaa-yi
milliye treni), offered well-planned itineraries (that were not
devoid of delays and time miscalculations, according to at
least one testimony).120 The revenues were distributed to
impoverished widows living in Edirne, without ethnic or
religious discrimination.121 Indeed, these tours’ proclaimed
purpose was to ‘enliven with such expeditions the helpless
local inhabitants who were kept destitute for long months and
especially to strengthen and reanimate their moral forces by
providing them with assistance’.122 However, these tours also
had another aim—to counteract the sense of defeat and to
restore the government’s legitimacy.
(p.259) For these ‘Edirne tours’ (Edirne seyahatı), special

trains were dispatched from the capital on celebratory
expeditions. Leading political and military personalities joined
the rejoicing crowds on the station platforms and on board.
While the train trips were orchestrated with cheerful music
and fireworks, they also offered direct confrontations with
scenes of misery caused by Bulgarian cruelty (encounters with
widows, wounded soldiers and visiting destroyed mosques and
burned-out villages). For one author, the route to Edirne was
mostly an endless and boundless cemetery where Muslim
victims had been hastily buried.123 The journalist Behcet Kami
published his impressions from his train journey to Edirne in
the Resimli Mekteb Âlemi. He described slow nocturnal travel
through devastated landscapes that constantly reminded him
of the defeat, the powerless and the Bulgarian atrocities—but
also of the revenge taken on Bulgarian soldiers. Before his
eyes he could see the ghosts of fallen Bulgarian soldiers who
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Edirne
were left behind, appearing to him like solid bodies. This
terrifying scene was for him a sign of vengeance inflicted
against the barbaric enemy, and this comforted him. He could
not conceal his excitement, shared by all his companions,
when the train approached ‘our Edirne’ (Edirnemiz) two hours
after sunrise, and he could discern the silhouette of the
Selimiye’s minarets.124 All the passengers ran from window to
window, impatiently vying for a better view.125 The first
encounter with liberated Edirne was portrayed by Ottoman
publicists as an emotional moment, one of the climaxes of
their visit.
Upon arrival in Edirne, the visitors were invited to witness,

with their own eyes, the damage caused by the Bulgarians and
to attend what we might call ‘ceremonies of purification and
pledge’, including public prayers in the restored mosques to
commemorate the liberation. The public ceremonies of
purification of the mosques—physical and spiritual—were
designed to obliterate the Bulgarian conquest, to usher in the
regaining of Ottoman confidence and to herald new directions
for the Ottoman nation.126
Encouraged by the success of the first train expedition to

Edirne, the Association of National Defence offered a second
such expedition. This time the tour coincided with the
beginning of the month of Ramazan. The committee planned a
special tour which enabled state employees to take advantage
of the holiday and stay in Edirne for a full day. Specific
measures were also taken to enable women’s participation in
this festive expedition.127 Indeed, the general intention was
also to introduce women to the atrocities that took place in
Edirne and to demonstrate the commitment of Turkish women
to the city. The motto of the women’s expedition was ‘as long
there are Turkish women living, beautiful great Edirne will
remain Turkish’.128
(p.260) Another joyful train arriving in Edirne was that of

Darülfünûn students. In Chapter 4, we saw the significance of
youth in the debate over the rejuvenation of the Ottoman
nation, and so the young students’ expedition was intended to
represent their role in society. The festive parade started at
the building of the Law Faculty in Istanbul. Marching through
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Edirne
Istanbul’s main streets, the students’ parade to the Sirkeci
railway station was accompanied by music and banners. In the
early hours of the following day, the students’ train reached
Edirne. On arriving at the city’s railway station in the suburb
of Karaağaç, the student delegation was received by Edirne’s
governor. In their turn, the students read aloud a long speech
explaining the reason for their visit to Edirne. In addition, they
recited manzume poems. Then they all proceeded to march
from the station to the municipality, accompanied by music,
where they were received by the city’s notables and heads of
the religious communities. During the afternoon they attended
prayers in the Selimiye Mosque. Later they organized a mass
public meeting in the Abacılar Square, ‘where all the
inhabitants of Edirne were present’. At the meeting it was
announced that the square would be renamed Darülfünun
Square in the students’ honour. The following day another
meeting took place in the newly-renamed Darülfünun Square,
where the students joined with local high school pupils and
other Muslim and non-Muslim dignitaries to declare their
public commitment to safeguard Edirne, ‘the old and great
capital of Ottomanism’, as an Ottoman city.129
The journalist Ömer Fevzi [Eyüboğlu, 1884–1952] joined the

students’ train to Edirne, and shared impressions from his
Edirne tour with the readers of İctihad. His description was
full of regard for the city which was ‘certainly a Turkish city,
much more than Istanbul’. For him this was also a journey into
the Turkish soul. His remark concerning his journey
companions is worth noting. He felt that this was an
opportunity for any young Turk, and especially for the
students, to express their gratitude towards the martyrs and
to acknowledge the Anatolian blood that was woven into the
city’s earth (Edirne’nin zavallı Andoluluların kanıla yoğurlmuş
toparğında ağlaya ağlaya i’tiraf etmek). Nevertheless, he could
not refrain from comparing his fellow travellers to Bulgarian
students. He wanted to believe that the remorse for their
previous indifference and the enthusiasm that his companions
showed during the journey was indeed an honest testimony to
their awakening, which had been absent at the beginning of
the war.130
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Edirne
Other joyful delegations marking the liberation of Edirne
continued over the next months. An Arab delegation (Arab
heyeti) arrived in Edirne to proclaim the shared destiny and
fraternity of Arabs and Turks. One of the delegates (p.261)
used the opportunity to assert that Arabs and Turks could not
and never would be separated. In return, the local şeyh Esad
Efendi declared that nationalism (milliyet fikri) did not
correspond with Islam and that according to the holy law
Arabs and Turks were brothers. Furthermore, the Arabs were
eternally bound to the sultanate and to the caliphate. The
catastrophe in Rumeli, he concluded, had caused much
excitement in Arab lands (Arabistan).131 These declarations
were probably meant to rebuke the increasingly loud calls for
Arab national rights heard in Egypt and Paris, and to
demonstrate the loyalty of Arab leaders to the Ottoman
cause.132 The CUP government responded to such
manifestations of loyalty with the distribution of medals and
other public honours.133
The official tours were not directed exclusively towards

Ottoman audiences, but also to European journalists, authors
and diplomats who were invited to join the tours. The Ministry
of Internal Affairs monitored the arrival of foreign reporters
and offered them—with the assistance of the Association of
National Defence—tailored excursions to view Bulgarian
atrocities in the hope of creating a supportive public opinion in
Europe for the Ottoman claims on Edirne. The aim, as
expressed by the Association of National Defence, was to
‘dispatch foreign reporters to Edirne and its area to show in
situ the atrocities performed by the Bulgarians in the area and
to assist the reporters in informing Europe by telegraph
transmissions about the full scale of these acts of carnage’.
The Committee likewise took upon itself to collect
photographs that testified to the atrocities that had taken
place and to gather them in booklets that would be distributed
in Europe.134 Equally welcomed were foreign authors who
supported the Ottoman cause in the international arena.
Pierre Loti’s visit was a special opportunity to host one of the
Ottomans’ main supporters in the West and to thank him for
his sympathetic writings during the Balkan Wars. The visit of
the ‘big visitor’ (büyük misafir) to Istanbul and Edirne was
Page 44 of 61
Edirne
planned to its last detail. The Ottoman daily press covered the
visit with much attention.
The liberation of Edirne also represented a propaganda tool

for reaching Muslim public opinion in the Arab provinces and
outside the Ottoman lands. The fact that the holy month of
Ramazan began that year on 4 August created an opportunity
to commemorate this manifestation of Muslim unity: the press
and telegrams that arrived at the Ministry of Internal Affairs
on behalf of the sultan reported the joy reigning in the Muslim
world on the occasion of Edirne’s liberation and the national
festival of the 1908 revolution. The city’s return to the abode
of Islam became ‘a day of rejoicing for the Ottomans (p.262) in
particular and for Muslims in general’, to quote from a
telegram dispatched by Abdullah, the mayor of Amare
(al-‘Amāra, in Iraq), on behalf of the town’s inhabitants and
tribes.135 Similar reports arrived from Anatolia, the Arab
provinces, as well as from Muslim communities in Bombay,
Cape Town, Durban, Rangoon, and other distant places.136
The liberation of Edirne, therefore, was celebrated in a
Muslim context as the deliverance of an Islamic population
and religious heritage from a Christian yoke; a military
achievement that would bolster Muslim solidarity inside the
Ottoman Empire and outside its realms. Indeed, one
anonymous ‘expert and knowledgeable’ contributor to Tanin
wrote about Edirne’s military significance for the security of
Istanbul. However, one of his remarks on the city’s
significance for the Muslim world is pertinent to our
discussion:
There is no pair of scales on the earth or in the sky that

could weigh the material and moral significance of this
blessed city to Ottomanism. Furthermore, the
significance of our beautiful Edirne, the old capital city
of the Ottomans that only forty days previously was still
trodden under the dirty boots of the Bulgarians, is not
only assumed by those who live in this land, but is also
an ideal (mefkûre) to the holy Muslims who live in India,
in China, even to those in Albania.137
Page 45 of 61
Edirne
One Year Later: The First Anniversary of
Edirne’s Liberation
Were the celebrations of Edirne’s liberation meant to invent a
new national day of commemoration? By following the events
planned for the first anniversary of the liberation, in July 1914,
we can gain some insights about the development of this
commemorative date. First, it is clear that at some stage it
was decided to separate ‘Edirne Day’ from the national holiday
of 10/23 July, celebrating the 1908 revolution. In July 1914,
the Edirne events were rescheduled to the so-called ‘9 July’,
now the fixed day of Edirne’s liberation. While newspapers
extolled the significance of Edirne’s liberation not only for the
Ottomans, but also for the whole Turkish and Islamic worlds,
the celebrations had a much more local character,
emphasizing the significance of this date for Edirne and
Thrace, although distinguished guests arrived from Istanbul
and from Egypt. For one thing, only the inhabitants of Edirne
observed ‘9 July’ as an official vacation day. The localization of
the event was also reflected in its main speaker, who was Hacı
Âdil Bey, the city’s governor. Yet, it should be noted that the
separation of the two commemorative days did not mean a
severing of ties between the two, but rather a continuity that
reached its peak during the national day of 10/23 July.
(p.263) The main ceremonies of the first anniversary followed

a well-planned trajectory of major sites connected to the war
and to the Bulgarian atrocities, such as Sarayiçi Island where
thousands of Ottoman Prisoners of War were starved to death.
The main ceremony took place in the Selimiye square. The
chief purpose of the commemorative day, according to an
official announcement, was to celebrate Edirne’s
reinstatement and its inhabitants’ rescue from the chains of
captivity (rıbka-i esaret). Young people played a major role in
the celebrations. Delegations representing various youth
movements and clubs led some of the ceremonies, declaring
their commitment to defend the nation and take revenge on its
enemies. Thus, for example, the delegation of Türk Gücü from
Gallipoli (see Chapter 4) led the singing of patriotic and
revenge hymns. The public joined them in calls for revenge.138
Page 46 of 61
Edirne
To conclude, the Second Balkan War enabled the CUP
government, at last, to celebrate a military victory and
significant territorial gains. The recapturing of some of the
major sites of Ottoman defeat during the First Balkan War was
certainly significant. However, it was the regaining of Edirne
that dominated the Ottoman perception of the Second Balkan
War. While the city’s liberation was achieved without combat,
it nevertheless illustrated the government’s determination to
defend the empire’s interests even by defying European
pressure. Therefore, it is not surprising to find that the CUP
government used this unexpected diplomatic act of daring and
achievement to turn Edirne into the focal point of official
celebrations consisting of collective ceremonies of
purification, commemoration, rejuvenation and celebration of
Muslim unity and national awakening, defined increasingly in
Islamic terms. Prominent literary figures contributed to this
effort by glorifying the victory in poems and short essays. This
new optimism marked the end of the feelings of defeat from
the First Balkan War and its ensuing pessimistic writing. A
new, confident discourse prevailed in writing and in public
ceremonies.
The celebration of the newly regained city was imbued with

religious messages that characterized the Ottoman
authorities’ shift from all-inclusive Ottomanism towards a
more Islamic-oriented Ottomanism, thus indicating the wish to
combine their modern national identity with Islam. Edirne, the
largest city of the liberated region, which could boast
impressive Muslim prestige and Ottoman heritage, was at the
centre of these public spectacles. However, now it was the
city’s Muslim character and Ottoman legacy, rather than its
civil population, that prevailed in official propaganda. The
incumbent sultan positioned himself at the top of a hierarchy
of beneficence towards the liberated Ottoman capital and its
Islamic heritage. Yet, the public celebration (p.264) also
highlighted the Ottoman army’s achievement in liberating
Edirne. This was a triumph that the CUP government was
determined to appropriate fully. Their attendance was widely
publicized in the press.
The religious and imperial emphasis prevailed in the

ceremonies. Most of them were set in locations closely
Page 47 of 61
Edirne
associated with the city’s Ottoman and Islamic legacy. The
Selimiye Mosque represented the symbolic locus of both
Edirne’s Ottoman heritage and also the brutality of the
Bulgarian occupation that had temporarily violated its
sanctity, at least according to the Ottoman narrative of the
war. In addition, these public ceremonies also celebrated the
military achievement and the future of the nation. To a large
extent, they promoted the popular association between nation
and army by focusing attention on the army’s commitment and
ability to defend the nation’s interests.
The celebrations that accompanied Edirne’s reinstatement to

Ottoman rule were the main expressions of the Ottoman claim
to overcome those faults that had caused their defeat during
the First Balkan War. For the CUP government, this was an
opportunity to trumpet their new political ability to win victory
and make territorial gains. No longer feeling the need to
exercise control behind the scenes and mediate experienced
senior officers and statesmen, they could now claim their
rightful place at the forefront of Ottoman statehood as they
proved their merits. It seems that through these celebrations
and projects of restoration, the Ottomans hoped to rid
themselves of the memory of their humiliating defeat and to
reinforce the continuity with their distant Ottoman past and its
victories. The designation of religious edifices as patriotic
memorials was meant to indicate the government’s
commitment to patriotic and Islamic missions. The emphasis
on commemorating the Second Balkan War as a military
victory that connected the CUP government to the glorious
sultans of the past aimed to convince the Ottoman populace
that the period of decline, defeat and retreat was over. A new
and bright horizon awaited the Ottomans under the guidance
of the CUP, the true modern heirs of the great Ottoman
sultans whose achievements the Ottomans were now invited to
celebrate. The outbreak of World War I only a few weeks later
was to put these claims to the test.
Notes:
(1.) Godfrey Goodwin, A History of Ottoman Architecture
(London: Thames and Hudson, 1971), 261–70.
Page 48 of 61
Edirne
(2.) Alexandra Yerolympos, ‘A Contribution to the Topography
of 19th Century Adrianople’, Balkan Studies 34:1 (1993), 52.
(3.) See, for example, Alain Corbin, Noëlle Gérôme and

Danielle Tartakowsky (eds.), Les usages politiques des fêtes
aux XIXe-XXe siècles (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne,
1994).
(4.) Anthony D. Smith, National Identity (Reno: University of

Nevada Press, 1991), 77.
(5.) Matthew Truesdell, Spectacular Politics: Louis-Napoleon

Bonaparte, and the Fête Impériale, 1849–1870 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1997), 3–4.
(6.) Vangelis Kechriotis, ‘“Allons, Enfants de la …Ville”:

National Celebrations, Political Mobilization and Urban Space
in Izmir at the Turn of the 20th Century’, in Maurits H. van den
Boogert (ed.), Ottoman Izmir: Studies in Honor of Alexander
H. de Groot (Istanbul: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije
Oosten, 2007), 123–37.
(7.) George L. Mosse, ‘Mass Politics and the Political Liturgy of

Nationalism’, in Eugene Kamenka (ed.), Nationalism: The
Nature and Evolution of an Idea (London: Edward Arnold,
1976), 39–54.
(8.) Eviatar Zerubavel, ‘Calendars and History: A Comparative

Study of the Social Organization of National Memory’, in
Jeffrey K. Olick (ed.), States of Memory: Continuities,
Conflicts, and Transformations in National Retrospection
(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2003), 316–17.
(9.) Elie Podeh, The Politics of National Celebrations in the

Arab World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011),
285.
(10.) Ibid., 286. For a general introduction on the significance

of national celebrations to the formation of the modern state,
see ibid., 1–33, esp. 19–24.
(11.) Ibid., 287–8.
Page 49 of 61
Edirne
(12.) On the institution of 10/23 July as the major Young Turk
holiday, see François Georgeon, ‘Temps de la réforme,
réforme du temps. Les avatars de l’heure et du
calendrier à la fin de l’Empire Ottoman’, in Georgeon and
Hitzel (eds.), Les Ottomans et le temps, 258–9.
(13.) Sanem Yamak, ‘Meşrutiyet Bayramı: “10 Temmuz Îd-i

Millisi”’, İ.Ü Siyasal Bilgiler Fakültesi Dergisi 28 (2008), 327,
334.
(14.) The almanacs of 1329 (14 March 1913–13 March 1914)

anticipated only three national holidays: 14/27 April: the
coronation of Sultan Mehmed Reşad; 10/23 July: Constitution
Day; and 20 September/3 October: the birthday of Sultan
Mehmed Reşad. See, for example, Almanach national au profit
de l’Hôpital de Hirsch 5 (1913), 17.
(15.) Hakan T. Karateke, Padişahım Çok Yaşa! Osmanlı

Devletinin Son Yüz Yılında Merasimler (Istanbul: Kitap
Yayınevi, 2004), 45.
(16.) David Cannadine, ‘The Context, Performance and

Meaning of Ritual: The British Monarchy and the ‘Invention of
Tradition’, c.1820–1977’, in Eric Hobsbawm and Terence
Rangers (eds.), The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1983), 105. Selim Deringil, The
Well-Protected Domains: Ideology and the Legitimation of
Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876–1909 (London: I.B.
Tauris, 1998), Chapter 1.
(17.) Kechriotis, ‘National Celebrations’, 123–37. The annual

celebration of the sultan’s accession day was itself a rather
late invention, going back to the reign of Mahmud III (r.1808–
39) and part of the sultan’s attempt to create an image of a
modern ruler. See Karateke, Padişahım, 40–45.
(18.) On ‘thick’ versus ‘thin’ calendars and their relations to

legitimacy, see Podeh, Politics of National Celebrations, 290–
91.
(19.) On festivals in the Arab World as a reflection of such a

‘hybrid political culture’, see Ibid., 287–8.
Page 50 of 61
Edirne
(20.) Besim Ömer, Hanım Efendilere, 90.
(21.) This term is borrowed from Sarah E. H Moore, Ribbon

Culture: Charity, Compassion, and Public Awareness (New
York: Palgrave, 2008).
(22.) Besim Ömer, Hanım Efendilere, 92–7.
(23.) Barton C. Hacker and Margaret Vining, ‘From Camp

Follower to Lady in Uniform: Women, Social Class and
Military Institutions before 1920’, Contemporary European
History 10:3 (2001), 357.
(24.) ‘Çiçekkler ve Kokartlar’, Tanin, 1676, 17/30 July 1913.
(25.) Osmanlı Hilâl-i Ahmer Cemiyeti—Hanımlar Heyet

Merkeziyesi, Takvim (Istanbul: Ahmed İhsan ve Şürekâsı
Matbaacılık Osmanlı Şirketi, 1919), 77. The almanac of 1919
quoted the following revenues collected through the
distribution of ‘those small flowers’: 1329 [1913/14]: 549
Ottoman lira; 1330 [1914/15]: 1,518 Ottoman lira; 1331
[1915/16]: 2,255 Ottoman lira; 1332 [1916/17]: 1,450 Ottoman
lira; 1333 [19171/8]: 3,249.72 Ottoman lira; 1334 [1918/19]:
2,140.50 Ottoman lira. See ibid., 78.
(26.) Osmanlı Donanma Cemiyeti, Hilâl-i Ahmer Çiçeği

([Istanbul]: Matbaa-yi Arşak Garoyan, [1914]), 4. 1914 is
mentioned as the year of publication in the catalogue of
Princeton University where this booklet is kept. However, as
the Caucasus front is mentioned in this booklet, its true date
of publication must be 1915 or later.
(27.) On the significance of these dates, see Georgeon, ‘Temps

de la réforme’, 261.
(28.) Resimli Kitab, August–September 1913. However, as this

issue included references to events that had taken place in
January 1914, the date of publication must have been later
than September 1913.
(29.) ‘10 Temmuzda Yeniçeri Bölüğü’, Tanin, 1672, 13/26 July

1913. On the Military Museum in the service of the Young
Page 51 of 61
Edirne
Turk regime, see Wendy M. K. Shaw, Possessors and
Possessed: Museums, Archaeology, and the Visualization of
History in the Late Ottoman Empire (Berkeley, CA: University
of California Press, 2003), 188–207. For the representation of
the janissaries in the new exhibition gallery, established in
1910, and on the employment of men as live mannequins
representing janissaries, see ibid., 194–5.
(30.) For the celebrations and various ceremonies that took

place in Istanbul during this holiday, see Tanin, 1665, 30 May/
12 June 1914; 1666, 31 May/13 June 1914.
(31.) On the term ‘founding moment’, see Alev Çınar,

Modernity, Islam, and Secularism in Turkey (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 2005), 148–9. See also her
discussion regarding the use of public commemorations of the
conquest of Constantinople by Islamist circles in the late
1990s: ibid., 151–63.
(32.) Louis Feuillade (1873–1925) directed L’Agonie de

Byzance in 1913. The Olympia cinema in Salonica screened
L’Agonie de Byzance, ‘a superb film in three acts’, in January
1914. See their advertisement in L’Actualité Juive 5, 30
January 1914. According to official statistics of the
municipality, in 1330 [1914/15] Istanbul boasted 25 cinemas,
14 of them situated in Beyoğlu neighbourhood. See İstanbul
Şehir Emaneti, 1330 Senesi İstanbul Beldesi İhsaiyat
Mecmuası (Istanbul: Arşak Garoyan, 1331 [1915/16]). 300–
302.
(33.) ‘Sinematografda: İstanbul’un Fethi’, Çocuk Duygusu, 27

March/9 April 1914.
(34.) In this paragraph I borrow from the discussion of

Eickelman and Piscatori on the use of Islamic tradition to
legitimate development and social and political changes, See
Dale F. Eickelman and James Piscatori, Muslim Politics
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), 25–8.
(35.) Celadet Bedirhan and Kâmuran Bedirhan, Edirne

Sukûtunun İçyüzü (Istanbul: Serbesti Matbaası, 1329
[1913/14]), 108.
Page 52 of 61
Edirne
(36.) Takvim-i Vekayi, 5/18 March 1913.
(37.) ‘Şükrü Paşa için’, Tanin, 1560, 22 March/4 April 1913.
(38.) On commemorating fallen soldiers in the Balkan Wars

through the erection of monuments, see Klaus Kreiser, ‘War
Memorials and Cemeteries in Turkey’, in Farschid et al. (eds.),
The First World War, 183–202. On war memorials, see also
Winter, Sites of Memory, ch. 4.
(39.) Quoted in Niyazi Akı, Türk Tiyatro Edebiyatı Tarihi, vol. 1

(Istanbul: Dergâh Yayınları 1989), 212. See also Duman,
Balkanlara Veda, 271–4.
(40.) See, as one example, ‘Tunca Dertleri: Saray İçi Faciası’,

Tanin, 1677, 18/31 July 1913. On the atrocities that took place
there during the Balkan Wars, see also the report composed
by the Carnegie Endowment Inquiry on the events that took
place in Edirne during the siege and following the Bulgarian
occupation of the city: Carnegie Endowment, Report of the
International Commission, 109–23.
(41.) Jay Winter and Emmanuel Sivan, ‘Setting the

Framework’, in eidem (eds.), War and Remembrance in the
Twentieth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1999), 16.
(42.) See for example Dinç, Mehmed Nail, 234.
(43.) Mahmūd Shihāb, Tarīkh al-Harb, 102–3.
(44.) See for example al-‘Aqqād, Tarīkh al-Harb, vol. 3, 30.
(45.) Gustave Cirilli, Journal du siège d’Andrinople

(Impressions d’un assiégé) (Paris: Librairie Chapelot, 1913); R.
P. Paul Christoff, Journal du siège d’Andrinople: Notes
quotidiennes d’un assiégé (Paris: H. Charles-Lavauzelle,
1914).
(46.) Tanin, 1576, 7/20 April 1913.
(47.) Tanin, 1586, 17/30 April 1913.
Page 53 of 61
Edirne
(48.) On these two brothers, see Hakan Özoğlu, Kurdish
Notables and the Ottoman State: Evolving Identities,
Competing Loyalties, and Shifting Boundaries (Albany, NY:
SUNY Press, 2004), 100–102.
(49.) Bedirhan and Bedirhan, Edirne Sukûtunun.
(50.) Resimli Mekteb Âlemi, 11, 14/27 December 1913.
(51.) Angela Guéron, Journal du siège d’Andrinople, 30

Octobre 1912—26 Mars 1913 (Istanbul: Isis Press, 2002).
(52.) Ben Israël, ‘Journal du siège d’Andrinople’, Almanach

national au profit de l’Hopital [sic!] de Hirsch (Salonica:
Acquarone, 1914), 148–201.
(53.) Ahmed Cevad, Kırmızı, 24–5. However, the inquiry held

by the 1913 Carnegie Endowment did not rule out the
Bulgarian claim that the carpets were damaged by the Muslim
families who found refuge in the mosque during the siege. See
The Other Balkan War, 115–16.
(54.) Ahmed Cevad, Kırmızı, 12.
(55.) ‘Müdafaa-i Milliye Mevlid-i Şerif-i Nabavi Kıraati’, İkdam,

5788, 21 March/3 April 1913.
(56.) Müdafaa-i Milliye Mecmuası (Istanbul: Matbaa-i Hayriye,

1329 [1913/14]), 23.
(57.) ‘Edirne’deki Kardeşlerimiz’, Çocuk Dünyası, 13, 6 June

1329/19 June 1913.
(58.) Abdülfeyyaz Tevfik, ‘Edirne—Sultan Selim Camii’, Talebe

Defteri, 4, 4/17 July 1913.
(59.) Necdet, Üfûl, 171–2.
(60.) Sally Moore and Barbara Myerhoff, ‘Introduction:

Secular Ritual—Forms and Meanings’, in eadem, Secular
Ritual (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1977), 3.
(61.) Abdürreşid, ‘10 Temmuz ve Edirne Bayramı’, İslâm

Dünyası, 13/26 July 1913.
Page 54 of 61
Edirne
(62.) ‘Bilmece’, Çocuk Dünyası, 18, 10/23 July 1913.
(63.) ‘Edirne Valisi’nin Telegrafi’, Tanin, 1672, 13/26 July

1913.
(64.) ‘Edirne ve Kırk Kilise’, Tanin, 1678, 19 July/1 August

1913.
(65.) Tanin, 1682, 23 July/5 August 1913.
(66.) Tanin, 1712, 24 August/6 September 1913.
(67.) BOA, DH.ŞFR 40/20, 3/16 April 1914.
(68.) BAO, HR.HMŞ.İŞO, 62/50, 27 January/9 February 1916.

Karaağaç, like all Ottoman territories west of the Meriç River,
was given to Bulgaria in 1915 with the proviso that the final
borderline would be determined by a joint Austro-German-
Swiss commission after the end of the war. Following the
signature of the Neuilly Accords (November 1919) at the end
of the First World War, these small territories were annexed to
Greece together with other parts of Western Thrace. However,
in 1923 Greece transferred Karaağaç with two other adjacent
villages to the Turkish Republic in lieu of paying
compensation. The remaining parts of Western Thrace
remained under Greek suzerainty. On the agreement to cede
territories situated on the western side of the Meriç River to
Bulgaria, see Gerard E. Silberstein, Troubled Alliance:
German-Austrian Relations, 1914–1917 (Lexington, KY:
University of Kentucky Press, 1970), 124–6.
(69.) ‘Şimdiki Edirne’, Tanin, 1732, 5/18 October 1913.
(70.) ‘La Populasión de Andrinópola i las Atrosidades

Búlgaras’, El Tiempo, 28 July 1913.
(71.) ‘Delegasiónes de Andrianópola Partiran por la Evropa’, El

Tiempo, 28 July 1913.
(72.) Müdafaa-i Milliye, 34.
(73.) ‘Señor Pier Loti y el Gran Rabíno Bidjarano’, El Tiempo,

29 August 1913.
Page 55 of 61
Edirne
(74.) Edirne, 1676, 9/22 January 1914. Unfortunately, this is
the only issue of this journal that I was able to consult.
(75.) La Boz de la Verdad, 7 May 1914.
(77.) Razpiska (raspiska in the Ottoman script) means ‘a scrap

of paper’ in Bulgarian. Ottoman sources defined the raspiska
as an ostensible receipt handed over by Bulgarian soldiers to
Ottoman civilians in exchange for their confiscated property.
While some of them were official endorsements, other such
notes were written on the spot by Bulgarian soldiers and did
not have any value. See ‘Yeni bir Lûgat: Raspiska’, Tanin,
1678, 19 July/1 August 1913.
(78.) BOA, HR.HMŞ.İŞO, 40/14, 20 November/3 December

1913. See also the ad hoc amnesty given to residents of the
Edirne and Çatalca provinces who failed to pay their taxes to
the Ottoman state for the tax year of 1328 [1912–13], but who
received the raspiska from the Bulgarian occupation
authorities in return for confiscated property: Takvim-i Vekayi,
1816, 1/14 May 1914.
(79.) ‘Trakya Mektubları’, Tanin, 1682, 23 July/5 August 1913.
(80.) ‘10 Temmuz’, Tanin, 1671, 12/25 July 1913.
(81.) On the construction of patriotic rituals, see Maoz

Azaryahu, ‘The Independence Day Military Parade: A Political
History of Patriotic Ritual’, in Lomsky-Feder and Ben-Ari
(eds.), The Military and Militarism, 90–92.
(82.) Hasan Urfan, ‘Rumeli’ye doğru’, Çocuk Duygusu, 20,

17/30 October 1913.
(83.) Tanin, 1668, 8/21 July 1913.
(84.) For the full text of the poem, see Okay, Meşrutiyet
Çocukları, 103.
(85.) ‘Edirne Hâtırası’, Tanin, 1728, 1/14 October 1913.
Page 56 of 61
Edirne
(86.) D. M. Reid, ‘The Symbolism of Postage Stamps: A Source
for the Historian’, Journal of Contemporary History 19:2
(1984), 223–49.
(87.) http://vdb.gib.gov.tr/edirnevdb/kultur/
selimiye.html#sec121, accessed 17 December 2013.
(88.) Yıldırım Yavuz, Mimar Kemalettin Bey ve Birinci Ulusal

Mimarlık Dönemi (Ankara: ODTÜ Mimarlık Fakültesi, 1981),
16. For his label of ‘national architect’, see Peyam, 17, 17/30
January 1914.
(90.) ‘Levha İhdası’, Tanin, 1678, 19 July/1 August 1913.
(91.) Edirne Heyet-i Merkeziyesi, Program: İttihad ve Terakki

Cemiyeti (Edirne: Edirne Vilâyet Matbaası, 1333 [1917/18]),
11–14.
(92.) Hakan T. Karateke, ‘Legitimizing the Ottoman Sultanate:

A Framework for Historical Analysis’, in Hakan T. Karateke
and Maurus Reinkowski (eds.), Legitimizing the Order: The
Ottoman Rhetoric of State Power (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 42–6.
(93.) ‘Korrespondénsia de Andrinópola’, El Tiempo, 1 August

1913.
(94.) BOA, DH.MTV 31/23, 12/25 September 1913.
(95.) On the late Ottoman sultans and their motivation for

gathering relics to emphasize the dynasty’s sacrality, see
Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains, 35–7.
(96.) ‘Zat-ı Şahane ve Edirne Ahalisi’, Tanin, 1714, 26 August/8

September 1913.
(97.) BOA, DH. MTV 31/24 I [3], 29 September/12 October

1913.
(98.) ‘Andrinópola’, El Tiempo, 8 December 1913. According to

the Edirne yearbook of 1317 [1899], the mosque’s library
Page 57 of 61
Edirne
included more than 2,600 books, most of them endowed by
Sultan Selim II. See Salname 1317, 311–12.
(99.) BOA, HR.HMŞ.İŞO 31/3, 13/26 November 1913.
(100.) BOA, HR.HMŞ.İŞO 41/23, 14/27 October 1913. On the

pillage of the mosque’s library during the first days of the
Bulgarian occupation, see also the report by the Carnegie
Endowment, The Other Balkan War, 115–16.
(101.) See, for example, A. R., Sultan Mehmed Han-i Hâmis

Hazretleri: Hayat-i Maziye ve Hususiyesi (Istanbul: Kütüphane-
yi İslam ve Askerî, 1324 [1909]. This booklet was published
following the enthronement of Mehmed Reşad. It concentrates
on the differences between the two brothers and Mehmed
Reşad’s maltreatment during Abdülhamid’s tyrannical rule.
(102.) Erik J. Zürcher, ‘Sultan Mehmet V’s Visit to Kosovo in

June 1911’, in idem, The Young Turk Legacy, 84–94. On the
sultan’s visit to Salonica as a major stop on his tour of the
Balkan provinces, see Julia Phillips Cohen, Becoming
Ottomans: Sephardi Jews and Imperial Citizenship in the
Modern Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), ch. 4.
(103.) See for example BOA, DH.MTV 31/24 I [3], 29

September/12 October 1913.
(104.) ‘Harbiye Nazırımız Enver Paşa Hazretlerile Mülakat’,

İctihad, 103, 24 April/7 May 1914.
(105.) See Ginio, ‘Shaping a Symbol’, 91–108.
(106.) Turfan, Rise of the Young Turks, 338.
(107.) ‘Harbiye Nazırımız Enver Paşa Hazretlerile Mülâkat’,

İctihad, 103, 24 April/7 May 1914.
(108.) This quotation is taken from Bruce Scates’ discussion of

another patriotic pilgrimage: the journey of Australians to
Gallipoli. See Bruce Scates, ‘In Gallipoli’s Shadow: Pilgrimage,
Memory, Mourning and the Great War’, Australian Historical
Studies 33 [119] (2002), 2.
Page 58 of 61
Edirne
(109.) Kamran Scot Aghaie, The Martyrs of Karbala: Shi‘i
Symbols and Rituals in Modern Iran (Seattle, WA: University
of Washington Press, 2004), 43.
(110.) ‘Partensia de Salih Pasha i de Ibrahim Bey por

Andrinópola’, El Tiempo, 25 July 1913.
(111.) ‘İki Bin Lira’nın Tevzii’, Tanin, 1672, 13/26 July 1913.
(112.) ‘Su Alteza el Prínsipe Eredador en Andrinópola i en

Kirk-Kilise’, El Tiempo, 1 August 1913.
(113.) Tasfir-i Efkâr [Tasvir-i Efkâr], 27, 17/30 July 1913;

Tanin, 1678, 19 July/1 August 1913; 1680, 21 July/3 August
1913; al-Jarīda, 30 July 1913; İkdam, 5924, 5/18 August 1913.
(114.) Özbek, ‘Defining the Public Sphere’, 802.
(115.) On Rabbi Haim Moshe Bidjarano, see Yom Tov

Bohmoiras, Toldot Ishim (Sofia: Ha-Mishpat, 1935/6), 27–32.
Chief Rabbi Bidjarano’s contribution to the Ottoman cause
during the Bulgarian occupation was also acknowledged in the
Turkish-language press, See, for example, Resimli Mekteb, 50
(August–September 1913).
(116.) ‘Andrinópola’, El Tiempo, 8 December 1913.
(117.) ‘Edirne Mektubları: İstanbul–Edirne’, Sebilürreşad, 256,

25 July/7 August 1913.
(118.) David W. Lloyd, Battlefield Tourism: Pilgrimage and the

Commemoration of the Great War in Britain, Australia, and
Canada, 1919–1939 (Oxford: Berg, 1998), 157–65. The first
Turkish travel guide dedicated exclusively to Edirne, published
in Ottoman Turkish in Edirne in 1920, devoted one chapter to
depicting the experience of the Balkan Wars as endured in the
besieged city. See Rifat Osman, Edirne Rehnüması (Edirne:
Vilâyet Matbaası 1920), 77–84.
(119.) The first expedition left Istanbul on the evening of 31

July. The travellers were offered tickets for travel in three
classes (the fees were 5, 3, or 2 Ottoman liras respectively).
See ‘Edirne’ye’, Tanin, 1675, 16/29 July 1913; Müdafaa-i
Page 59 of 61
Edirne
Milliye Mecmuası (Istanbul: Matbaa-i Hayriye, 1329), 24;
Takvim-i Vekayi, 21 July/3 August 1913.
(121.) Müdafaa-i Milliye, 24.
(122.) Takvim-i Vekayi, 21 July/3 August 1913.
(123.) Rumeli Muhacirîn-i İslâmiye Cemiyeti, Türk Katilleri, 5.
(124.) Referring to the city as ‘our Edirne’, invoking the

communal self, was common in the writing on liberated
Edirne. The idea was certainly to evoke the Ottomans’
personal connection and commitment to the city.
(125.) Behcet Kami, ‘Edirne Seyahatinde’, Resimli Mekteb

Âlemi, 3, 15/28 August 1913; 4, 1/14 September 1913.
(126.) See, for example, ‘Edirne Mektubları: Edirne ve Kırk

Kilise’, Tanin, 1680, 21 July/2 August 1913; Sebilürreşad, 256,
25 July/7 August 1913.
(127.) Tanin, 1695, 5/18 August 1913.
(128.) Tanin, 1694, 4/17 August 1913.
(129.) Tanin, 1693, 3/16 August 1913. For the program of the
students’ tour, see Emre Dölen, ‘Darülfünun Öǧrencilerinin
Balkan Savaşı Eylemleri ve Edirne Seyahatı’, Osmanlı Bilim
Araştırmaları 6:1 (2004), 72.
(130.) ‘Edirne Mektubu’, İctihad, 76, 15/28 August 1913.
(131.) ‘Arab Heyeti’, Tanin, 1714, 26 August/8 September

1913.
(132.) See Chapter 3.
(133.) See, for example, Frederick F. Anscombe, The Ottoman

Gulf: The Creation of Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1997), 139–40.
(134.) Müdafaa-i Milliye Cemiyeti, 34.
Page 60 of 61
Edirne
(135.) BOA, DH.MTV 34/59, 10 July 1329/23 July 1913.
(136.) See for example ‘Âlem-i İslâmda Galeyan: Hind

Müslimanları ve Edirne’, Tanin, 1679, 20 July/2 August 1913;
‘Âlem-i İslâmda Meserret’, Tanin, 1680, 21 July/2 August 1913.
Some of these telegrams were published in the Ottoman
official gazette and are also kept today in BOA, DH.MTV 34/59.
(137.) Tanin, 1707, 17/30 August 1913.
(138.) ‘9 Temmuz: Edirne’nin Istirdadı’, Tanin, 2005, 9/22 July

1914; ‘Edirne’de 9 Temmuz’, 2007, Tanin, 12/25 July 1914.
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Celebrating the Ottoman Past, the Victorious

Second Balkan War and the Reinstatement of

The Ottoman Culture of Defeat: The Balkan Wars

Print publication date: 2016

Celebrating the Ottoman Past, the

Abstract and Keywords

The short Second Balkan War and the subsequent Ottoman

Keywords: Edirne, Military victory, Commemoration, National symbols,

Therefore, the CUP government and the various civic

The proclaimed victory in the Second Balkan War and its

auspices of sultan Selim II (r.1566–74) and considered by

For the CUP, Edirne represented both the Ottoman glory of

The Balkan Wars transformed the image of Edirne: first,

Celebrations under Young Turk Rule

Matthew Truesdell, for example, who explores the use of

Faced with comparable challenges and difficulties of

A similar and earlier combination of traditional rites of power

The urge to establish a new holiday could also be explained by

In addition, it should be remembered that the Ottoman

In the newly invented celebrations, not only the frequency was

The organization’s major attraction as a national symbol lay in

The women, all of them volunteers, wore armbands identifying

The yearbook of the Red Crescent provides further

On the first day of Îdulfitr, all Ottomans adorned their

The combination of the religious aspects of Îdulfitr and the

As befits a national celebration, other public activities

In June 1914, the government initiated a public holiday

Ottoman victories from the past were used to boost morale,

The Prophet’s Birthday (Mevlid-i Şerif) became a formal public

The celebration of Edirne’s liberation was, therefore, part of a

Edirne in Ottoman Writings on the Defeat

The siege of Edirne became one of the main symbols of civilian

As long as the siege continued, the city served as a symbol of

While the glory of the city’s defenders was embodied in its

Edirne’s eventual fall to the Bulgarian army on 26 March 1913

To many Ottomans, the desecration of the Selimiye Mosque by

Starting from the immediate aftermath of the city’s surrender,

Following the city’s surrender, apparent restraints were no

(p.240) The besieged city of Edirne became the emotional

The saga of the siege also appeared in various publications

Much more telling is the publication of other diaries in the

The diary of an anonymous Jewish inhabitant of Edirne using

The Bulgarian occupation of Edirne did not end the urge to

The agony of the civil and military population remaining in

(p.242) Abdülfeyyaz Tevfik [Yergök], as another example,

This survey of Ottoman writings about the siege of Edirne and

Return to Ottoman Rule: ‘Normalization’ of Life

The author Râif Necdet recounted in his memoirs of captivity

Indeed, the adjective ‘sacred’ appeared repeatedly in the

The regaining of Edirne was celebrated by the entire Ottoman

Following the Ottoman army’s entry to Edirne, a kind of

While the Ottoman press emphasized the return to routine, it

In mid-October 1913, the reappointed governor of Edirne,

Part of the Ottoman attempt to claim that their return to the

The forming of a united front in which all segments of the local

The accommodating attitude of the Ottoman local authorities

In the face of growing pressure, the remaining non-Muslim

The punishment of collaborators with the Bulgarian

Celebrating Victory, Rejuvenation and

For the Ottoman authorities, Edirne’s liberation offered a

The ceremonies, therefore, were directed both inwards,

The festive ceremonies attempted to construct an image of a

The celebrations contained two main features: the