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Ani, a disputed city
Haunted by history
Jun 15th 2006 | ANI
> > From The Economist print edition
The ruins of a contested capital are still hostage to geopolitics
WHATEVER you think about ghosts, it is hard to speak of this desolate
plateau on Turkey's eastern edge without using the word "haunted". A
millennium ago, Ani rivalled Byzantium as one of the great cities
of the Christian world. At its height, the Armenian capital had
over 100,000 inhabitants. Now all that stands is an impressive wall,
and the gaunt but beautiful remains of churches and mosques randomly
scattered across a vast expanse of grassy earth. On a hot day in early
summer, with flowers blooming and birds swooping through the ruins,
the place is utterly empty.
Ani's location at one of Eurasia's nodal points, where rival
civilisations either clash or co-operate, has been both a blessing and
a curse. The "silk route" linking Byzantium with China ran through
it. But less than a century after it became the Armenian capital in
961, the city began falling victim to waves of conquerors, including
Seljuk Turks, Georgians and Mongols. In 1319 it was devastated by
an earthquake.
Even as a ruin, Ani has been a disputed city. In 1921 when most
of the site was ceded to Turkey, the Armenians were dismayed. They
have since accused the Turks of neglecting the place in a spirit of
chauvinism. The Turks retort that Ani's remains have been shaken by
blasts from a quarry on the Armenian side of the border.
Turkey's authorities insist that they are doing their best to conserve
and develop the site. "By restoring Ani, we'll make a contribution
to humanity," says Mehmet Ufuk Erden, the local governor. "We will
start with one church and one mosque, and over time we will include
every single monument." The culture ministry has listed Ani, with
an Armenian church on an island in Lake Van, among the sites it is
keenest to conserve. For a country that was reluctant, until recently,
to accept the cultural heritage of non-Turks, this is a big change.
But some scholars say more is needed. "Piecemeal restoration is no
substitute for a master plan for Ani as a whole," argues Stefaan
Poortman of the Global Heritage Fund, a California-based conservation
group that helps to manage endangered historic sites. And making
a master plan for a site straddling two countries is impossible
unless they co-operate. Could it happen? In September, some 14 Black
Sea countries hope to meet in Istanbul to dicuss their cultural
heritage. So Turks and Armenians will get a chance to talk about Ani,
if history's ghosts can be exorcised
Haunted by history
Jun 15th 2006 | ANI
> > From The Economist print edition
The ruins of a contested capital are still hostage to geopolitics
WHATEVER you think about ghosts, it is hard to speak of this desolate
plateau on Turkey's eastern edge without using the word "haunted". A
millennium ago, Ani rivalled Byzantium as one of the great cities
of the Christian world. At its height, the Armenian capital had
over 100,000 inhabitants. Now all that stands is an impressive wall,
and the gaunt but beautiful remains of churches and mosques randomly
scattered across a vast expanse of grassy earth. On a hot day in early
summer, with flowers blooming and birds swooping through the ruins,
the place is utterly empty.
Ani's location at one of Eurasia's nodal points, where rival
civilisations either clash or co-operate, has been both a blessing and
a curse. The "silk route" linking Byzantium with China ran through
it. But less than a century after it became the Armenian capital in
961, the city began falling victim to waves of conquerors, including
Seljuk Turks, Georgians and Mongols. In 1319 it was devastated by
an earthquake.
Even as a ruin, Ani has been a disputed city. In 1921 when most
of the site was ceded to Turkey, the Armenians were dismayed. They
have since accused the Turks of neglecting the place in a spirit of
chauvinism. The Turks retort that Ani's remains have been shaken by
blasts from a quarry on the Armenian side of the border.
Turkey's authorities insist that they are doing their best to conserve
and develop the site. "By restoring Ani, we'll make a contribution
to humanity," says Mehmet Ufuk Erden, the local governor. "We will
start with one church and one mosque, and over time we will include
every single monument." The culture ministry has listed Ani, with
an Armenian church on an island in Lake Van, among the sites it is
keenest to conserve. For a country that was reluctant, until recently,
to accept the cultural heritage of non-Turks, this is a big change.
But some scholars say more is needed. "Piecemeal restoration is no
substitute for a master plan for Ani as a whole," argues Stefaan
Poortman of the Global Heritage Fund, a California-based conservation
group that helps to manage endangered historic sites. And making
a master plan for a site straddling two countries is impossible
unless they co-operate. Could it happen? In September, some 14 Black
Sea countries hope to meet in Istanbul to dicuss their cultural
heritage. So Turks and Armenians will get a chance to talk about Ani,
if history's ghosts can be exorcised