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UGLY SIDE OF A BLACK SEA CITY OBSESSED WITH THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
By Vincent Boland
FT
February 8 2007 02:00
One evening last week, as a snowstorm arrived from the Black Sea to
envelop the Huseyin Avni Aker stadium, the people of Trabzon had
something to celebrate. Trabzonspor, their beloved football team,
earned a deserved 1-0 victory in the quarter-final of the Turkish
FA Cup.
The win lightened the mood in this city of 500,000, on the coast
of north-eastern Turkey. Bars and restaurants filled up despite
the atrocious weather. Post-match analysis dominated the local
airwaves. The team has to travel south to Gaziantep later this month to
play the second leg, and qualification is not assured. But the victory
was at least a distraction, because these are bizarre times in Trabzon.
Since the murder in Istanbul on January 19 of Hrant Dink, a
Turkish-Armenian journalist, and of Andrea Santoro, an Italian Roman
Catholic priest, at his church not far from the Trabzon stadium a
year ago this week, Turkey's gaze has turned on this city as never
before. Anguished that the chief suspect in each case was a teenage
boy from this city, Turks have only one question: what is the matter
with Trabzon?
In their search for answers, experts have seized on the city's alleged
status as a hotbed of ultra-nationalism and ultra-Islamism, the fiery
nature of Black Sea Turks, the rise of organised crime and gun culture
(a sign in the arrivals hall at the airport reminds people to collect
their guns), and educational under-achievement.
There is substance to these arguments, but anecdotal evidence
suggests Trabzon is no more nationalist or conservative than other
Turkish cities.
And these are symptoms, not causes. Trabzon's problem, many here say,
is economic decline and social stagnation.
Other cities in Anatolia - especially Ankara, Kayseri and Konya -
are booming and vibrant places where people are flocking to live. But
the economic revival that Turkey has enjoyed since 2002 seems to have
passed Trabzon by.
There may be no better barometer of that decline than Trabzonspor,
the fading giant of Turkish football. The city's self-image is
wrapped up in the club, as if it were a national team representing
an independent republic.
"Half of Trabzon's brain is Trabzonspor," says Sadan Eren, president
of the chamber of commerce.
Selahattin Kose, vice-rector of Black Sea Technical University,
laments: "We have seven newspapers and five television channels in
Trabzon, and 90 per cent of what they cover is football." Karadeniz,
a local paper, devoted nine of its 24 broadsheet pages to football on
the day of the Gaziantepspor match. Another paper had seven reporters
at the game.
A football club cannot be held responsible for the emergence of
murderous teenagers. But Trabzonspor's waning fortunes - it won
six league titles between 1976 and 1984 but is now flirting with
relegation from the Super League - are part of the psychological
make-up of the city. They add to the sense of grievance of a part
of Turkey that once believed itself able to compete with Istanbul,
at least in footballing terms. This puts Trabzon out of step with
modern Turkey. The city is not only hurting from a failing local
economy dependent on agriculture. As a port it has felt the impact
of declining maritime traffic in this part of the Black Sea. Strung
out on a narrow strip of land stretching many kilometres from east
to west and hemmed in by 2,000m-high mountains to the south and by
the sea to the north - from which its inhabitants are cut off by a
new highway - the city feels cramped and brooding.
It seems to have no horizon. "It's hard work living in Trabzon,"
says Volkan Canalioglu, the mayor.
Trabzon has its attractions: spectacular landscapes, forests and an
active cultural life. An Armenian play has been running every Friday
at the city's Arts Theatre for the past two months. But the obsession
with football seems incurable. Ahmet Sefik Mollamehmetoglu, a local
journalist, says: "If the main institution in a city is a football
club, the main topic of conversation is football, not the city's
economic and social problems."
Cenk Altug Atalay, Trabzonspor's spokesman, does not agree that
the club is too dominant for a small city. But he appreciates the
umbilical link between the two. "It's true that people here live for
Trabzonspor," he says.
"Perhaps if we won more often, people might be more relaxed."
By Vincent Boland
FT
February 8 2007 02:00
One evening last week, as a snowstorm arrived from the Black Sea to
envelop the Huseyin Avni Aker stadium, the people of Trabzon had
something to celebrate. Trabzonspor, their beloved football team,
earned a deserved 1-0 victory in the quarter-final of the Turkish
FA Cup.
The win lightened the mood in this city of 500,000, on the coast
of north-eastern Turkey. Bars and restaurants filled up despite
the atrocious weather. Post-match analysis dominated the local
airwaves. The team has to travel south to Gaziantep later this month to
play the second leg, and qualification is not assured. But the victory
was at least a distraction, because these are bizarre times in Trabzon.
Since the murder in Istanbul on January 19 of Hrant Dink, a
Turkish-Armenian journalist, and of Andrea Santoro, an Italian Roman
Catholic priest, at his church not far from the Trabzon stadium a
year ago this week, Turkey's gaze has turned on this city as never
before. Anguished that the chief suspect in each case was a teenage
boy from this city, Turks have only one question: what is the matter
with Trabzon?
In their search for answers, experts have seized on the city's alleged
status as a hotbed of ultra-nationalism and ultra-Islamism, the fiery
nature of Black Sea Turks, the rise of organised crime and gun culture
(a sign in the arrivals hall at the airport reminds people to collect
their guns), and educational under-achievement.
There is substance to these arguments, but anecdotal evidence
suggests Trabzon is no more nationalist or conservative than other
Turkish cities.
And these are symptoms, not causes. Trabzon's problem, many here say,
is economic decline and social stagnation.
Other cities in Anatolia - especially Ankara, Kayseri and Konya -
are booming and vibrant places where people are flocking to live. But
the economic revival that Turkey has enjoyed since 2002 seems to have
passed Trabzon by.
There may be no better barometer of that decline than Trabzonspor,
the fading giant of Turkish football. The city's self-image is
wrapped up in the club, as if it were a national team representing
an independent republic.
"Half of Trabzon's brain is Trabzonspor," says Sadan Eren, president
of the chamber of commerce.
Selahattin Kose, vice-rector of Black Sea Technical University,
laments: "We have seven newspapers and five television channels in
Trabzon, and 90 per cent of what they cover is football." Karadeniz,
a local paper, devoted nine of its 24 broadsheet pages to football on
the day of the Gaziantepspor match. Another paper had seven reporters
at the game.
A football club cannot be held responsible for the emergence of
murderous teenagers. But Trabzonspor's waning fortunes - it won
six league titles between 1976 and 1984 but is now flirting with
relegation from the Super League - are part of the psychological
make-up of the city. They add to the sense of grievance of a part
of Turkey that once believed itself able to compete with Istanbul,
at least in footballing terms. This puts Trabzon out of step with
modern Turkey. The city is not only hurting from a failing local
economy dependent on agriculture. As a port it has felt the impact
of declining maritime traffic in this part of the Black Sea. Strung
out on a narrow strip of land stretching many kilometres from east
to west and hemmed in by 2,000m-high mountains to the south and by
the sea to the north - from which its inhabitants are cut off by a
new highway - the city feels cramped and brooding.
It seems to have no horizon. "It's hard work living in Trabzon,"
says Volkan Canalioglu, the mayor.
Trabzon has its attractions: spectacular landscapes, forests and an
active cultural life. An Armenian play has been running every Friday
at the city's Arts Theatre for the past two months. But the obsession
with football seems incurable. Ahmet Sefik Mollamehmetoglu, a local
journalist, says: "If the main institution in a city is a football
club, the main topic of conversation is football, not the city's
economic and social problems."
Cenk Altug Atalay, Trabzonspor's spokesman, does not agree that
the club is too dominant for a small city. But he appreciates the
umbilical link between the two. "It's true that people here live for
Trabzonspor," he says.
"Perhaps if we won more often, people might be more relaxed."