Contrary to expectations, suppressing the memory of its existence as a prison does not seem to be necessary for a comfortable sojourn at the hotel. Although in its initial season, the hotel’s use as a prison was de-emphasized,
the management, having realized that it actually adds to the hotel’s cache, does not try to hide the history of the building. As a matter of fact, nowadays the transformation is touted as a remarkable success story. The well-stocked folder guests find in their rooms contains – in addition to maps, city guides, informational fliers about the hotel’s amenities, and magazine offprints about its award-winning design and service – information about the building’s history as a prison. In a leaflet that describes the conversion as ‘sewing a silk purse out of a sow’s ear’ the building’s previous life is advertised as yet another feature that makes it a unique place to spend an unforgettable holiday. Inside the hotel, the elevator lobbies feature the mosaic tiles of the former prison floor, which had been slabbed over when the dormitories were subdivided into smaller cells. Even more striking is the unhindered display of the etchings made by the inmates on the marble columns of the lobby (Figure 10.5). The guests who are familiar with twentieth-century Turkish history, curiously ask the hotel personnel where Nazim Hikmet, the poet, penned his laments or Ibrahim Balaban, the painter, made his sketches. The memory of the inmates’ ordeal is thus commodified, it becomes just another item for consumption.
Nevertheless, the conversion from prison to hotel was not uncontested, to the contrary, it encountered a significant degree of publicly voiced opposition. When construction began, Mehmed Ali Aybar, the late leader of the Turkish Communist Worker’s Party who spent ‘more years at the prison
10.5
Image of a column in the elevator lobby, with etchings made by inmates
than he could count’, expressed utter disappointment. Aybar stated that the prison had an honourable place in Turkey’s history because many idealist intellectuals who had had the courage to take a critical stance against the government during the formative decades of the Republic had done time at Sultanahmet. Aybar argued that converting the former prison, which had such an important place in the nation’s collective memory, was historically insensitive. The Istanbul branch of the Chamber of Architects of Turkey, spearheaded by its chairman Oktay Ekinci, similarly opposed the project stating that the former prison was a container of Turkey’s architectural, political, and cultural heritage. In a note of dissent, filed alongside the Professional Report on Environmental Impact, the expert witnesses representing the Chamber of Architects noted that the proposed project overlooked the historical and cultural significance of the building and that its potential for growth threatened the integrity of the urban fabric around it.28 Moreover, Ekinci, a public intellectual by avocation, repeatedly critiqued the exclusive nature of the project, in his columns of the left-leaning daily, Cumhuriyet.29 He called for a more publicly accessible use for a building that had a central place in Turkey’s national patrimony.30 A third contingency who opposed the project were Classical and Byzantine archaeologists who decried the expedited issuance of construction permits because evidence strongly suggested that the building site was atop the buried ruins of the Byzantine Palace. Indeed, part of the Byzantine Senate and Archives were unearthed while digging a new basement for the hotel and construction continued much to the consternation of the academic community. Today, the process of uncovering what is estimated to have been the largest palace complex in medieval Europe continues on the vacant portions of the hotel property. As specific requests by some guests to be assigned rooms with a view of the excavation suggest, the archaeological work, itself, has become part of the hotel’s attractions.
As this very brief sampling indicates, every single one of the criticisms raised against the project acknowledged the uniqueness of the building, its architecture, its site, and history as a prison, which, coincidentally, are precisely the attributes the Four Seasons management also promotes to its clientele. Describing the hotel as an ‘an oasis of luxury’ situated at ‘the Cradle of Civilization’ a booklet contained in the guest information packages placed in every room boasts:
As the capital of three great empires and with a history spanning more than two millenia, Istanbul offers the traveller a treasure house of diverse architecture, art and culture. And within the most historic quarter of this truly historic city waits Four Seasons Istanbul.31
Indeed, continuously populated since the foundation of the city, the first hill of the ancient peninsula is a palimpsest of Istanbul’s history under Greek, Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, and modern Turkish rule. And Four Seasons Istanbul is situated so strategically in this district that a short walk in any direction will lead you to one of the city’s most revered monuments. Its proximity to such remarkable historic sites, its unusual story, and the striking views it commands have made the former prison a particularly desirable site for touristic development.
10.6 Luxurious relaxation, inspiring style: Four Seasons Hotels and Resorts poster featuring images from available choices around the world |
Moreover, this relatively smooth conversion of history and memory into marketable commodities in a global emporium highlights the second dimension along which the hotel may be considered a heterotopic site. While the Four Seasons management uses these unique attributes to attract business, it also frames the Istanbul Hotel as just one among the many in its rich repertoire of equally exceptionally appointed hotels. Thus, by the same token, uniqueness is reduced to ordinariness and what would otherwise be priceless is commodified. For those willing to pay the price and go the distance, this is just another luxury hotel offering comparable amenities whether in Istanbul, Bali or Milan – all inflected with incidental details that provide just the right amount of local colour (Figure 10.6).