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foto di Lorenzo Guerra |
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Law, society
and habits Istanbul no smoking
When the law prohibits smoking like
a Turk. by Stefano Gianuario
Translation from italian by Stef Bottinelli and Matt Muir |
>
discover the PDF file ![](images/pdf.jpg) |
The expression “To smoke like a Turk” is one of the most abused clichés
in history. And rightly so: Turks really do smoke like Turks, that
is a lot.
Beyond word games and perceived truths, real or imagined, it's fair
to say that an expression loses credibility when undermined by a fundamental
paradox. In this case the paradox can be found in a piece of legislation
enacted in July 2009 which bans smoking in all indoor public spaces.
Whilst this has by no means pleased the Turks, it has done little
to disturb their natural aplomb and the phlegmatic nature of the people.
A few months in from the law being passed, though, and there are no
signs of it being flouted.
It's not that the penalty for breaking the law are likely to deter
people, given that it consists of a fine of around 70 Turkish lira
(circa 30 Euros). It's a long way from past times, when Turkish smokers
were given a really hard time.
To give you an example of a slightly more onerous law, at the beginning
of the 17th Century sultan Muradiv decided that smoking should be
punishable by decapitation; they weren't big on subtlety in those
days. It's unlikely, then, that this little fine will have much of
an effect on the Turks who are used to literally risking their necks
for a smoke.
Returning to modern Turkey, one of the reasons for the ban being observed
is almost certainly the hot summer during which it came into effect,
as well as the natural predisposition of the Turks to socialise outdoors.
Perhaps this will change come winter, as they flock to tabac café
for the regular, interminable rounds of backgammon during which smoking
is considered a subset of the standard rules.
Not that it matters. A people is also defined by its vices, which
are not always directly proportional to its virtues. And if the Turks
can be said to have the twin vices of smoking and consumption of litres
of cay (traditional Turkish tea), they have the virtue of being able
to cope with things, of bending the rules with a smile, and turning
their contradictions into an art form. In the alleyways of Istanbul,
for example, amongst its overcrowded residential areas, sprawling
across two continents, contradiction has truly found a home.
It's certainly easier to say what Istanbul is not, given that
defining it is a struggle even for those Turks who live there (not
that they would care to do so, in any case). It's a place where opposites
can coexist peacefully, given that there's space for everyone.
Where it's possible to find oneself drunk on raki in the mid afternoon
only to lift one's eyes and see a majestic mosque, whilst beautiful
women with flowing hair flaunt their looks as they pass arm-in-arm
with other women wearing the veils prescribed by Islamic law.
In a city where one can quickly move from Sultanahmet, an historic
area, home of sultans, full of mosques and tradition, to Beyoglu,
home of artists and musicians and full of late-night life which puts
Barcelona's Las Ramblas to shame. A place where besuited businessmen
can mix with those who'd do almost anything to avoid having a 'real'
job.
Like flogging tickets to unlikely lotteries from café to café, taking
a pair of scales into the street to weigh passers-by, catching poisoned
fish from Galata Bridge, offering the opportunity to shoot air rifles
at strings of balloons tied to the banks of the Bosphorous, challenging
improbable winds...
A country like this can happily maintain the highest rate of tobacco
consumption in the world whilst at the same time passing legislation
banning smoking in all indoor public areas. Nothing strange, nothing
contradictory; it's simply Turkey. Stefano
Gianuario was born in Milan, Italy, in 1985. He works as a freelance
journalist, writes upon tourism and music. He plays in the noise
band Hezel. In 2004 he published the novel Le cose di Jack |
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