Introduction
Direklerarası Street became a focal point for entertainment, performance, socialization and promenade in late Ottoman intramural Istanbul. The street derived its name from the colonnaded arcades in front of a row of shops constructed in the arasta form along the historical Divanyolu axis in the early eighteenth century. This article examines the spatial transformation of Direklerarası Street between the 1880s and 1910s, situating it within the broader dynamics of late Ottoman urban life. It investigates urban interventions such as the demolition and reconstruction of arcade columns, street lighting, pavement reconfigurations and the redesigning of the adjacent square, not merely as outcomes of modern urban regulations but also as processes shaped by the sociopolitical and cultural contexts of the late Ottoman capital.
Recent scholarship has considered space not merely as a physical setting but as a social construct essential for understanding urban life and cultural production.Footnote 1 The spatial turn has redefined spatiality, highlighting the dynamic interplay between space and experience.Footnote 2 Space is now recognized as central to the construction of social relations, embedded in lived realities, rather than a passive backdrop.Footnote 3 As Henri Lefebvre contends, space is not merely a neutral setting for social relations but is actively produced through a complex interplay of social, political and cultural forces.Footnote 4
With the spatial turn in historical studies, the street has become an emblematic object of urban studies. It symbolizes the rediscovery of the value of dense historical centres – what urban planners call ‘the return to the street’.Footnote 5 The distinctive qualities of a street emerge through a complex and multilayered combination of social, cultural, political, technical and artistic elements shaping the historical silhouette of the city. Streets are as mutable as life itself, constantly altered through design or use.Footnote 6 Jérôme Monnet argues that the representative character of the street as a local landmark emerges through portrayals that view it both as a setting and as a dynamic human landscape, a scene where the essence lies in the interactions between users.Footnote 7 Brice Gruet also views the street as a crucial space for social interaction, a lasting witness to life and a mirror of the city’s identity.Footnote 8
The spatial turn has influenced studies on the urban history of late Ottoman Istanbul, fostering space-oriented research and the use of new perspectives and sources. These works have addressed a wide range of issues, such as municipal institutions, urban regulations, European influences and local adaptations, the reconfiguration of urban spaces, citadinité (city life), surveillance, street lighting and transportation.Footnote 9 Nevertheless, the dominance of state-centred narratives of urban modernization has been a key issue in late Ottoman urban historiography. These narratives prioritize the monumental over the non-monumental, legal regulations as textual sources over their practical implementation and municipal-led transformations over those beyond institutional control.Footnote 10
Recent scholarship has demonstrated that the urban history of the late Ottoman cities is far more complex than state-centred narratives imply. Reforms implemented through state apparatus affect the everyday lives of urban dwellers, emphasizing the discrepancies between the state’s intended objectives and the societal reflections of these reforms. Noémi Lévy-Aksu suggests analysing transformations in the urban fabric as part of a broader reconfiguration of power relations and social interactions in nineteenth-century Ottoman cities.Footnote 11 Particularly significant is the role of social actors in shaping spatial transformations, with an understanding that these actors play an indispensable part in the reconfiguration of space.Footnote 12
Scholars began to criticize views of historical change seen through the lens of ‘urban modernity’ for representing late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century European capitals as places where dynamic change occurred. As Stephen V. Ward emphasizes, European countries responded to rapid urbanization and population growth with reformist approaches, turning urban planning into an institutionalized and technical field concerned with public health, efficiency and social organization. Despite the exchange of ideas that resulted through improved transport and communication, national planning traditions developed differently and were shaped by cultural, administrative and political factors.Footnote 13
The interaction between global influences and local dynamics highlights the complexity of Ottoman urban modernization processes. Recent works on the spatial transformation of streets underscore the interplay of political, social and local forces in redefining the urban and architectural fabric of the imperial capital. These studies have examined the diverse functions of streets in Istanbul by focusing on their architectural, social and ceremonial features. Divanyolu is represented as a central thoroughfare shaped by the patronage of the Ottoman pashas, Voyvoda Street as a financial nexus, İstiklal Street as a cosmopolitan symbol, Soğukçeşme Street as an emblem of urban conservation and Direklerarası Street as the porticoed commercial artery of eighteenth-century urban novelty.Footnote 14
This article investigates the transformation of Direklerarası Street from the 1880s to the 1910s through the concept of ‘urban process’, as defined by Spiro Kostof. The term refers to physical changes in space over time, perceptible only through various acts over a period of time.Footnote 15 It examines the street’s architectural and physical features, sociocultural dynamics and usage patterns. It utilizes a diverse body of sources, which enable a comprehensive understanding of both the regulatory framework and lived experiences of Direklerarası Street. It draws upon official archival documents, urban regulations, building laws and waqf registers to trace the administrative mechanisms shaping the built environment, with journalistic descriptions offering ‘insider’ accounts of those who experienced and navigated urban space in varying ways. It situates the street’s transformation within a broader context of urbanization and modernization, highlighting not only the impact of political interventions and urban reforms but also its distinctive architectural-aesthetic features and the interactions of its diverse community. It focuses on the urban practices, perceptions and spatial experiences of shopkeepers, waqf trustees, café regulars and strollers on the street as users of the space who actively participate in and influence the process of change. The article scrutinizes the implementation of urban reforms, the resistance and responses of the public and the negotiations between political authorities and local dynamics.
Direklerarası: a street in an arcade arasta design
Direklerarası was constructed in 1728–29Footnote 16 as an arcade arasta, a commercial structure with shops facing each other in two rows,Footnote 17 on the historical Divanyolu which starts at Topkapı Palace and extends to Beyazıt, then branches towards Aksaray and Edirnekapı (Figure 1).Footnote 18 It was built by the innovative grand vizier İbrahim Pasha (r. 1718–30) to generate income for his nearby madrasah complex.Footnote 19 The arcade arasta was named Direklerarası, meaning ‘between the columns’ in Turkish, on account of the porticoed columns in front of the shops.Footnote 20 It included 82 shops, with 37 located to the north, adjacent to the madrasah, and 45 to the south, neighbouring the Old Barracks (Eski Odalar) of the Janissaries.Footnote 21 Beginning at Acemoğlu Square and aligned with the boundary walls of the Şehzade Mehmed Complex (külliye), the length of the street is about 200 metres (m.) in a straight line with a constant width uncommon in the Divanyolu.Footnote 22 The width of the street was 11.25 m. from wall to wall, including the pavements,Footnote 23 and 9 m. from column to column.Footnote 24 A 1910 drawing indicates that the width of the street at its entrance towards Osman Baba Tomb is 12.75 m. (Figure 2).Footnote 25
Figure 1. The location of Direklerarası on the city’s main artery, the historical Divanyolu. Produced from the map of Bilad-ı Selase by Erkan-ı Harbiye in 1911.
Figure 2. The physical layout of Direklerarası Street at the beginning of the twentieth century. Produced from the maps of Atatürk Kitaplığı, HRT [harita; map] 007088, 1910; and Atatürk Kitaplığı, HRT 007340, 1911.
The construction of an arasta street with porticoed pavements, which would become renowned for its aesthetic appeal and role as a pleasure ground along the historical Divanyolu, reflects the growing consciousness of public spaces in the early eighteenth century. Following the return of the Ottoman court to the capital after a long absence, Istanbul became subject to construction, renovation and urban expansion.Footnote 26 Divanyolu, the ceremonial route of the court, was transformed into an arena where Ottoman pashas displayed their power through the construction of mausoleums, madrasahs and complexes from the seventeenth to the mid-nineteenth centuries.Footnote 27 As a tool of urban design, the street shaped residents’ experiences while also serving as a stage where rulers asserted their power.Footnote 28 It seems both symbolically and practically significant that İbrahim Pasha, the grand vizier of Ahmed III (r. 1703–30) who ascended the throne following the janissary revolt in 1703, reorganized the street by constructing an arcade arasta adjacent to the Old Barracks.
Semavi Eyice argues that the architectural style of the arasta revived the ancient typology of colonnaded streets (Figure 3).Footnote 29 In contrast, Uğur Tanyeli highlights the street’s novelty value; it was the first consciously planned artery of Ottoman Istanbul, shaped by baroque influences newly appropriated by Ottoman architects.Footnote 30 Alper Metin complements these readings by emphasizing the unprecedented addition of porticoes, previously confined to enclosed religious precincts, to a linear, open thoroughfare. He further suggests that while the porticoes evoke the city’s Byzantine heritage, the street’s overall layout recalls a medieval Venetian commercial axis. For Metin, Direklerarası embodies a fusion of local and foreign elements, particularly from Italian and Aegean contexts, revealing its experimental and hybrid character within eighteenth-century Ottoman urbanism.Footnote 31
Figure 3. Direklerarası Street at the end of the nineteenth century. Pascal Sébah, ‘Bazar de Diréeklér-Alti à Gahah-Zadé’, http://hdl.handle.net/10020/96r14_ref16651_4ua.
In a late eighteenth-century Kauffer map, Direklerarası is called ‘Belle Rue’ (Beautiful Street).Footnote 32 A late nineteenth-century anonymous author describes the beauty of the city of Bern, with its colonnaded streets, by recalling Direklerarası Street.Footnote 33 It was often referred to as the ‘pleasant street’ in Ottoman periodicals.Footnote 34 The 1812/13 Map of Bayezid Waterway (Beyazıt Su Yolu Haritası) illustrates Direklerarası’s landmarks and surroundings (Figure 4). In the direction of Vezneciler, Direklerarası’s border is defined by the water balance and the fountain in Acemoğlu Square, and in the direction of Şehzadebaşı by the İbrahim Pasha Fountain (sebil), Altmışbir Kapısı and the Tomb of Dervish Osman (d. 1782–83).Footnote 35 Altmışbir Kapısı was one of the important stopover points for the sultan’s sword procession from Eyüp to Topkapı Palace, a procession which was added to the Ottoman accession ceremonies in the early seventeenth century.Footnote 36 The Osman Baba Tomb next to Altmışbir Kapısı, the spiritual symbol of Direklerarası, stands as a gateway to Direklerarası,Footnote 37 and to the south, it is adjacent to the Old Barracks.
Figure 4. Direklerarası in the Bayezid Waterway Map in 1812/13. M.K. Çeçen, II. Bayezid Suyolu Haritaları (Istanbul, 1997).
The rise of Direklerarası Street and its reorganization as a public passageway
Widening roads, opening squares, constructing pedestrian paths, lighting streets and regulating buildings were key features of Ottoman urban modernization. These reforms, intended to create healthier and safer cities, were a response to recurrent urban challenges such as fires, epidemics and riots, and reflected the bureaucratic elite’s engagement with a broader contemporary urban imagination informed by European models.Footnote 38 The 1839 Development Policy, introduced shortly before the Imperial Edict (Tanzimat Fermanı), was the first major attempt to redesign Istanbul along Western planning lines.Footnote 39 It set out principles for street layout, including width classifications and the inclusion of pedestrian pathways.
The Commission for the Regulation of the City (İntizam-ı Şehir Komisyonu) was founded in 1856 to control infrastructure, public hygiene, road expansion and lighting.Footnote 40 Subsequent regulations, such as those issued in 1848, 1858 and 1863, categorized streets to ensure communication, spatial order and urban coherence.Footnote 41 The 1863 regulation, for example, classified roads into five categories and designated Divanyolu as the principal artery of the historical peninsula. First-class thoroughfares were required to maintain a minimum width of 15 arşın (11.25 m) and streets already meeting this standard were to remain unaltered, so that their boundaries were legally fixed.Footnote 42 These standards remained in force during the late 1870s and early 1880s, precisely when the destruction of arcaded columns became a subject of debate because of congestion.
As a colonnaded street that retained its aesthetic and architectural features from the 1720s to the 1880s, Direklerarası underwent a series of spatial and functional reconfigurations, among which the demolition of the Janissary barracks to its south after 1826 played a pivotal role. Formerly a Janissary hub, the street was opened to the public, and its role in the urban fabric intensified with the military reconfiguration of nearby Seraskerat Square.Footnote 43 By the 1850s, Direklerarası had become part of a wider entertainment zone centred around Beyazıt Square, with its Ramadan festivities drawing public attention.Footnote 44 As teahouses and literary cafés (modern versions of traditional coffeehouses) began to offer performances, such as theatre, canto, cinematograph and Karagöz, Direklerarası evolved into a promenade with venues for socializing, entertainment and spectacle.Footnote 45 The increasing number of teahouses on the street also led to its designation as the ‘Teahouse Coast’.Footnote 46 Despite restrictions on coffeehouses following the abolition of the Janissary Corps on account of their alleged involvement in political unrest, the number of coffeehouses, teahouses and literary cafés increased significantly on the street towards the late nineteenth century. In 1793, one-quarter of the street’s shops were coffeehouses, rising to one-third by the early twentieth century.Footnote 47 The 1901 Annuaire Oriental registers indicate that out of 63 shops, 23 were categorized as cafés.Footnote 48
In İstanbul Rehberi (Istanbul Guide), Mustafa Suad described Direklerarası as a vibrant and crowded street in Istanbul on winter nights, especially during Ramadan.Footnote 49 Ercüment Ekrem portrayed Direklerarası as Istanbul’s main promenade, comparing it to Paris’ Champs-Élysées, Berlin’s Unter den Linden and Vienna’s Prater.Footnote 50 The rise of Direklerarası as an entertainment hub coincided with the period known as La Belle Époque, which lasted from the late nineteenth century to the beginning of World War I. This era, characterized by social, cultural and economic stability, witnessed the emergence of prominent entertainment districts in several cities, including Montmartre in Paris, the West End in London and Asakusa-Rokku in Tokyo.Footnote 51
Although the spatial boundaries of Direklerarası Street are clearly defined on maps as lying between Vezneciler and Şehzadebaşı streets, its cultural boundaries appear more permeable. The theatrical area extended towards Vezneciler, the promenade reached the police station (karakolhane) across from Şehzade Mehmed Mosque and the music scene expanded towards Beyazıt and Çukurçeşme.Footnote 52 The Letafet Apartment,Footnote 53 built by Serasker Rıza Pasha for his wife on the corner of Acemoğlu Square at the beginning of the twentieth century, was recognized as one of the cultural symbols of Direklerarası in Ottoman documents.Footnote 54
Public spaces such as squares, streets or porticoes functioned as ‘sounding boards’ or ‘resonating boxes’ for political communication, integrating politics into the daily life of the urban community. These spaces were social areas where political news was heard and amplified by the public.Footnote 55 By the late nineteenth century, Direklerarası had been transformed into an arena where political authorities, particularly within intramural Istanbul, both experienced and demonstrated urban modernization practices. From the 1880s onwards, there was a greater concentration of urban interventions such as lighting, pavement design, road widening and square arrangements compared to the rest of intramural Istanbul, signifying the street’s prominence in the city’s layout and its aesthetic, architectural and sociocultural dynamics.
In addition to its advantageous location on Divanyolu, the association of the street with popularity, conviviality and entertainment during the reign of Abdülhamid II (r. 1876–1909) led to the implementation of urban regulations and increased political surveillance as a result of concerns about morality, order, crime and gender norms. It could be argued that the censorship policies of the era enabled the rise of Direklerarası. Halit F. Ozansoy describes the month of Ramadan during the reign of Abdülhamid II as a period of relative relaxation.Footnote 56 The controlled freedoms granted during this month, in contrast to the restrictions during the other 11 months of the year, concentrated entertainment and festivities into this period, which boosted the popularity of Direklerarası. However, the Abdülhamid regime, always vigilant about large public gatherings, kept a close eye on the street. In her memoirs, Samiha Ayverdi mentions a special branch of Fehim Pasha’s intelligence organization that was specifically tasked with monitoring Direklerarası.Footnote 57
As it functioned increasingly as an entertainment hub after the 1880s, Direklerarası began to face overcrowding and related urban planning challenges. An Ottoman archival document from 1859 defined Direklerarası Street as a public passageway (memerr-i nas), where pedestrians were given priority.Footnote 58 Urban planning emphasized pedestrian-friendly pavements with appropriate widths. However, as Colin Pooley stated in relation to Britain, by the late nineteenth century urban regulations that normalized the presence of transportation vehicles on the streets reshaped cities, making walking harder and riskier.Footnote 59 The use of public pathways on Direklerarası Street as extensions of teahouses, literary cafés and coffeehouses was one of the significant urban issues encountered as early as the 1860s. While urban regulations required that pavements were designated for pedestrian use, the authorities’ efforts to prohibit café clientele from sitting on stools and chairs placed along these walkways were closely tied to broader concerns about visibility and propriety, especially regarding the presence of Muslim women in public. The restrictive measures of the Abdülhamid II regime, which included limitations on women promenading, reflected the political anxieties of the era. Thus, the regulations defining pavement usage not only sought to reinforce the intended function of these spaces within the evolving urban fabric but also mirrored the prevailing social norms shaped by the political ideology of the period.
During the reign of Abdülhamid II, projects aimed at modernizing urban spaces were also seen as a means of maintaining public order and strengthening mechanisms of social control. Lit-up public spaces not only encouraged night-time socializing and entertainment but also facilitated surveillance and control by political authorities.Footnote 60 The first street within Istanbul’s walls to be illuminated, Direklerarası was brightly lit by gas lamps, which turned night into day and meant that the festivities lasted well into the early hours, particularly during Ramadan nights. The section of the Divanyolu from Vezneciler to Şehzadebaşı Police Station was permanently illuminated by gas lamps in 1880.Footnote 61 As Malumat reported, while Beyazıt and Vezneciler remained in darkness, Direklerarası Street was like a bright tunnel.Footnote 62
Porticoes in question: urban reform, public pressure and imperial will
The deterioration of the porticoed columns became a significant concern, prompting calls for structural intervention. In 1866, the shopkeepers petitioned to repair collapsed sections that blocked their entrances.Footnote 63 As reported by Basiretçi Ali Efendi, the deteriorating state of the columns in Direklerarası was evident not only to municipal engineers but also to all passersby. In 1876, Ottoman officials inspected the porticoes of Direklerarası in preparation for Sultan Murad V’s girding sword procession, scheduled to pass along the route. Two days later, a few of the porticoes collapsed. Given the narrowness of the street and the risk of further collapse, Basiretçi Ali Efendi proposed demolishing the colonnaded porticoes. He argued that these structures lacked historical value, narrowed the street and diminished its aesthetics. Their removal, he suggested, would widen the street and enhance the value of the adjacent shops.Footnote 64 In addressing legal and financial concerns, Basiretçi Ali Efendi suggested that since only the shop interiors were privately owned, the porticoes might legally be removed by the Istanbul Municipality (Şehremaneti). Considering the significant cost of demolition, he proposed selling the stones and charging the shopkeepers who benefitted.Footnote 65 After an inspection, the municipality initially decided to demolish the porticoes but eventually opted for partial repairs.Footnote 66 The newspaper Hayal criticized the partial repair and the repainting of the arcades in a variety of colours.Footnote 67
Following the harsh winter of 1880, newspapers renewed their focus on the need to demolish the colonnaded porticoes.Footnote 68 On 7 April, Tercüman-ı Hakikat reported that demolition work had begun on the columns along Direklerarası, following a state decision to remove hazardous structures. Instead of columns, trees would be planted along the sidewalks to create a more organized street layout.Footnote 69 The formal decision on the demolitions was announced in the Vakit and Tercüman-ı Hakikat newspapers on 12 April. The announcement stated that the severe winter had rendered old buildings unsafe, necessitating the removal of deteriorating and collapsing structures within Dersaadet (the walled city) and the Bilad-ı Selase (the districts of Eyüp, Galata and Üsküdar). According to the Building Regulation,Footnote 70 property owners and relevant municipalities were to be informed of this requirement. If the property owners failed to undertake the demolitions, the government would intervene, carry them out and levy the associated costs on the property owners.Footnote 71 Subsequently, on 17 April, the colonnaded porticoes on the madrasah side of the street were entirely demolished, while those adjacent to the Osman Baba Tomb remained intact, with the exception of those in front of Mehmed Efendi’s literary café, which had been previously dismantled.Footnote 72
The process of demolishing the porticoed columns revealed a notable administrative issue. The northern side of the street was under the jurisdiction of the First Department of Municipality (Birinci Daire-i Belediye), while the southern side was governed by the Second Department of Municipality (İkinci Daire-i Belediye).Footnote 73 The porticoed columns on both sides were demolished on different dates in 1880, with each municipality employing distinct approaches to demolition, debris removal and subsequent renovation. The First Department of Municipality delayed the removal of the debris for several days, nearly resulting in the closure of the street. It appears that the Second Department of Municipality waited for these matters to be resolved before starting to demolish the porticoes. Tercüman-ı Hakikat drew attention to this administrative discrepancy through a tragicomic incident involving a street vendor who sold oranges on both sides of the street. Each time the vendor crossed from one side to the other, municipal officers placed a stamp on his basket, charging him a fee for boundary violations (tecavüz-i hudud). On 29 May 1880, Istanbul was divided into ten municipalities, the boundaries of the municipalities were redrawn and Direklerarası remained within the administration of the First Department of Municipality.Footnote 74
Then on 15 May Tercüman-ı Hakikat announced that the colonnaded pillars, demolished because they were at risk of collapse in accordance with the existing regulation and not intended to be rebuilt, would soon be reconstructed under the order of Abdülhamid II. It was reported that ‘when the demolition of Direklerarası was brought to the attention of the Sultan, the street was ordered to be promptly reconstructed’.Footnote 75 On 2 June 1880, Şehremaneti started the reconstruction of the colonnaded porticoes in their original form.Footnote 76 The reconstruction process of the arcade columns once again revealed administrative ambiguities. Although the columns were initially demolished under the urban regulation by two separate local municipalities, each employing distinct procedures, the decision to reconstruct them was taken under the authority of the Sultan and carried out by a different urban authority, Şehremaneti. This example underscores the complexities and potential inconsistencies in the implementation of urban projects.
Abdülhamid II’s decision to rebuild the columns of the Direklerarası arcade can be evaluated within the broader framework of urban and monumental conservation policies in late Ottoman Istanbul. The 1866 initiative to restore the Column of Constantine in its original formFootnote 77 and the restoration of the city walls after 1894, despite earlier proposals to demolish them,Footnote 78 reflect the modernizing capital’s engagement with its pre-Ottoman heritage. By the nineteenth century, Divanyolu had a palimpsestic urban landscape,Footnote 79 where architectural layers from various periods were deliberately showcased.Footnote 80 This indicates that preservation extended to multiple Ottoman layers, including Direklerarası, reinforcing its place in the city’s cultural heritage. Despite the initiatives for preserving historical structures, Zeynep Çelik has argued that no formal regulations existed in this regard until 1917, since the Antiquities (Asar-ı Atika) laws of 1869, 1874 and 1884 focused only on archaeological artefacts.Footnote 81
The renovation of the porticoes lining both sides of the street was largely completed by 1881, except for those Mehmed Efendi had previously removed without permission to allow more light into his café.Footnote 82 On 27 May 1881, the trustee of the İbrahim Pasha Foundation submitted a complaint, asserting that Mehmed Efendi had unilaterally removed the colonnaded porticoes and now intended to rebuild them in a design differing from the uniform plan applied to the other 75 shops in the arasta. Footnote 83 The complaint emphasized that his proposed reconstruction posed a structural risk to the vaults of the arcade and could compromise its architectural cohesion and historical significance. Additionally, the petition highlighted the antique value of the porticoes, referencing the imperial decree of 1880 that had mandated their reconstruction in their original form.Footnote 84 The state authorities, in considering the demands of both the waqf trustee and Mehmed Efendi, rejected his request to construct a single portico but granted permission to rebuild two porticoes in harmony with the existing architectural style, albeit without a column.Footnote 85
In the following years, some newspapers continued to raise the issue of demolishing the columns to widen the street because of increasing traffic congestion. Although periodicals linked the demolition of the columns in 1880 to widening the street, the columns were demolished because of their deterioration and the potential danger identified by the relevant regulations. In 1886, an official document proposed standardizing the width of Şehzadebaşı, Direklerarası and Vezneciler streets, emphasizing that Direklerarası Street already measured 15 arşın (11.25 m.) wide.Footnote 86 Another document dated 1888 proposed adjusting the width of Vezneciler Street to match the 12 arşın (9 m.) width of Direklerarası Street, measured from one column to the next. The document also indicates that the plan to expand the road to 17 arşın (12.75 m.) was postponed to a future date because there were insufficient funds to expropriate all the shops needed for the project.Footnote 87 This suggests that road widening projects were financially burdensome and even though plans were developed on paper, their realization was often delayed over time.
Opening the square: the removal of the water balance and the fountain from Acemoğlu Square
Public squares, as key elements of urban planning, perform many functions such as regulating traffic, promoting social interaction and hosting cultural events. Urban reforms in late Ottoman Istanbul proposed creating new squares and reorganizing existing ones. However, many of these projects remained only partially implemented, reflecting the period’s broader aspirations. The 1882 Building Law sought to develop and enhance the aesthetic appeal of Istanbul, a city renowned for its natural beauty and strategic location, by creating organized main roads, avenues and public squares, thereby placing it alongside the contemporary capital cities and other advanced urban centres of Europe.Footnote 88 The reorganization of Acemoğlu Square can be analysed through Ward’s concept of ‘selective borrowing’, which refers to the process of adapting planning models to local needs and conditions.Footnote 89 It reveals how modern urban planning concepts in Ottoman Istanbul were not merely imported but reconfigured through the existing urban fabric and local reform initiatives. Furthermore, it offers a lens through which to understand the mediating role of local authorities in this process.
Acemoğlu Square, located at the end of Direklerarası Street near Vezneciler, was not a geometrically planned square, as illustrated in the early nineteenth-century Bayezid Waterways map. The square derived its name from its proximity to the Janissary Barracks and was located at the intersection of four roads. An archival document about the levelling and enlargement of Vezneciler, Direklerarası and İbrahim Pasha streets stated that such streets would naturally end at the square.Footnote 90 A water balanceFootnote 91 and a fountain were situated in the square, not precisely in its centre, but closer to the northern side of Direklerarası Street (Figure 5). Over time, the presence of these structures came to be seen as an obstruction to pedestrian movement. Basiretçi Ali Efendi recommended their removal in 1873, drawing a parallel with the lion statues in Aksaray, which had been removed for similar reasons.Footnote 92 He argued that the fountain no longer supplied water and suggested relocating the water balance to the edge of the square if necessary, adding that there was no doubt the square would open up beautifully if both the water balance and fountain were removed (Figure 6).Footnote 93
Figure 5. The location of the water balance and the fountain in Acemoğlu Square. ‘Projet d’etablissement d’une ligne de Tramway allant de la place du Sultan Bayazid a Ederne Kapou. Plan des élargissements’, Atatürk Kitaplığı, HRT 005159.
Figure 6. The water balance and the fountain in Acemoğlu Square. J. Strzygowski, Byzantinische Denkmäler, vol. 1 (Wien, 1893), 26–7.
In 1880, shortly after the columns were demolished, Tercüman-ı Hakikat announced that the water balance and fountain in the square, which obstructed the middle of the road, would be moved to another location, a decision made by the Council of State (Şura-yı Devlet).Footnote 94 However, after the columns were rebuilt by the Sultan’s order, no attempts were made to demolish the water balance and fountain. Even after the 1888 fire in Acemoğlu Square, which destroyed several shops and houses and intensified discussions about expanding the square, no further action was taken regarding their removal.Footnote 95
The demolition of the water balance and the fountain became a matter for the Ottoman political authorities in 1894. An archival document indicated that removing the water balance and the inactive fountain from the square would enhance the street’s prestige.Footnote 96 These structures, already scheduled for demolition, were significantly damaged in the earthquake on 10 July 1894Footnote 97 and were demolished immediately afterward by Şehremaneti (Figure 7).Footnote 98
Figure 7. The porticoes of Direklerarası damaged in the 10 July 1894 earthquake. Atatürk Kitaplığı, Alb_000184–C. 2, 17.
Between 1900 and 1903, correspondence between the Şehremaneti, Evkaf-ı Hümayun Nezareti (the Ministry of Waqfs), Dahiliye Nezareti (the Ministry of Internal Affairs) and Şura-yı Devlet revealed that the removal of the fountain and water balance led to a complex administrative problem. Following the earthquake, the local municipality removed the water balance from Acemoğlu Square to facilitate pedestrian flow. However, it cut off water from the Nuruosmaniye Complex, ultimately causing a water shortage for the mosque. Evkaf-ı Hümayun Nezareti raised the issue, requesting either the reconstruction of the water balance or the installation of iron pipes to restore the water supply.Footnote 99 In response, Şura-yı Devlet acknowledged the problem caused by the removal of the water balance and noted that the Nuruosmaniye waterways had been temporarily supplemented by the Halkalı water routes of the Süleymaniye Waqf and the water balance near Atik Ali Paşa Mosque on Divanyolu. Nevertheless, Şura-yı Devlet declared that the permanent transfer of water between waqfs was not in accordance with Sharia law and therefore decided to install iron pipes.Footnote 100
This case illustrates the contradictions within the late Ottoman reform process, particularly with the existing waqf system, which had played a central role in Ottoman religious, social and urban life for centuries. Waqfs were autonomous under Sharia law in both administration and finance.Footnote 101 With the rise of modern urban governance focused on the welfare of the public, tensions emerged between the principles of waqf administration and the state’s new focus on public benefit. The Ottoman state’s efforts to reconcile these conflicting demands and to preserve public benefit in an Islamic and a modern state led to the development of pragmatic solutions and negotiations.Footnote 102
The transport-oriented city layout: ‘sacrificing’ the arcade for the tramway
During the Second Constitutional Period (1908–18), Direklerarası remained a popular entertainment hub but attracted criticism for its disorderly appearance. A. Mazhar condemned its dilapidated columns and muddy pavements, noting that they had persisted for 15 years, despite the rise of wider, cleaner and more modern venues in Istanbul.Footnote 103 Similarly, in 1909, R. N. described Direklerarası as ‘narrow and uncivilized’, portraying its congestion as chaotic and incompatible with the modern age. He argued that a nation with a constitutional monarchy should observe Ramadan nights with greater seriousness, avoiding frivolity and idle pursuits.Footnote 104
In the early twentieth century, as an aspect of modern urban planning, streets were organized to accommodate transportation vehicles, with pedestrians confined to pavements.Footnote 105 In 1907, Société des tramways de Constantinople proposed the expansion of the tram network throughout Istanbul and the extension of tramlines running from Eminönü to Fatih via Beyazıt Square (Figure 8).Footnote 106 The proposal included removing the colonnaded porticoes in Direklerarası along with demolishing shops to widen the street (Figure 9),Footnote 107 but the plan was not implemented.
Figure 8. Map of the tramway network in Istanbul at the beginning of the twentieth century. Produced using the map from BOA/Plan, Proje ve Krokiler (PLK.p.) 4272, 26 Mar. 1913.
Figure 9. Draft plan for the widening of the street from Bayezid Square to Saraçhanebaşı. ‘Eminönü – Beyazıd – Saraçhanebaşı’na giden cadde istikameti haritası’, İBB Atatürk Kitaplığı, HRT 007340 (31 May 1911).
The main obstacle to the construction of the tramline was the Osman Baba Tomb extending towards the street (Figure 10).Footnote 108 Çelik has highlighted the divisions caused by relocating cemeteries dispersed throughout the city to accommodate road expansion. The initiative was met with opposition from the Muslim community on account of religious sensitivities.Footnote 109 One article, which seems to have been written to address these reservations and legitimize the transfer of Osman Baba Tomb in the eyes of the public, argued that Muslim societies do not leave the graves of their ancestors underfoot and do transfer them to appropriate places, and claimed that there was no religious prohibition regarding the relocation of the graves.Footnote 110 For some, the extension of Osman Baba Tomb towards the street was highly peculiar. The renowned poet Mehmet Akif Ersoy used the well-known case of Osman Baba Tomb in Direklerarası to illustrate the absurdity of placing Midhat Pasha’s statue in Basra.Footnote 111
Figure 10. The entrance to Direklerarası Street in the direction of Şehzade Mosque, with the Osman Baba Tomb on the right and the fountain on the left (Abdullah Frères). İstanbul Üniversitesi Nadir Eserler Kütüphanesi, http://nek.istanbul.edu.tr:4444/ekos/FOTOGRAF/904-76–0034.jpg.
On 1 November 1910, the newspaper Stanboul announced that Suphi Bey, Istanbul’s mayor, had relocated the Osman Baba Tomb within a few hours without causing any disruption to traffic.Footnote 112 The tomb was transferred to the garden of the Şehzade Mosque, located directly opposite its previous location, at the corner of the pillar that Evliya Çelebi described as the centre of Istanbul. Malik Aksel claimed that the public did not welcome this relocation, explaining that while the theatre had been closed because of the presence of a saint in earlier years, the Osman Baba Tomb was removed from the side of the Fevziye Literary Café, a musical entertainment venue, under the pretext of widening the street. The tomb, which once marked the beginning of Direklerarası Street, now remained behind a wall and existed only in people’s memories (Figure 11).Footnote 113
Figure 11. Part of the preparations for the tramway route, this document shows the measurements of the Osman Baba Tomb and Sebil side of Direklerarası Street. İBB Atatürk Kitaplığı, HRT 007088, 1910.
In May 1911, Servet-i Fünun announced that new tramlines were being introduced and one tramline was being extended to Şehzadebaşı.Footnote 114 The Aksaray Fire of 23 July 1911,Footnote 115 which also affected Direklerarası and its surroundings, accelerated the road widening works in Direklerarası. The newspaper Tanin announced on 12 August that the First Department of Municipality would start demolishing the colonnaded porticoes of Direklerarası Street within a week,Footnote 116 and on 22 August Stanboul reported that the columns that gave Direklerarası its name had been demolished (Figure 12).Footnote 117 The porticoes, earlier rebuilt by sultanic decree, were now permanently removed to make way for the construction of the tramline. Periodicals in the Ramadan month of 1911 discussed the demolished colonnaded porticoes of Direklerarası. Afacan welcomed the demolition of the porticoes but asked what the street would now be called, referring to it as ‘former Direklerarası’.Footnote 118 The humorous magazine Karagöz suggested the name ‘kazıklararası’ meaning ‘overly expensive’ on account of the increasing tea prices being charged in Direklerarası teahouses.Footnote 119
Figure 12. Direklerarası after the demolition of the porticoed columns in 1911. Birinci Daire -i Belediye (Istanbul, H. 1328 / 1912–1913), 165.
The demolition of the colonnaded porticoes because of the tramway aroused significant criticism, particularly during the early Republican period. Ercüment Ekrem argued that Direklerarası, once an arasta built on sturdy columns and equipped with elegant domes, had been dismantled and transformed into a district conforming to Western standards.Footnote 120 The newspaper Dersaadet accused Şehremaneti of forgetting its duty, which was not only to make Istanbul a clean and civilized city but also to protect its historical beauties.Footnote 121 According to Ahmed Rasim, the destruction of the porticoes, which had offered a refreshing view of the street, turned the arasta into a ‘bald street’.Footnote 122 About 15 years after the demolition of the porticoed columns of Direklerarası Street, harsh criticism came from Ahmed Muhtar:
For instance, it is highly likely that he [Cemil Pasha] failed to recognize and appreciate the era of Nevşehirli Damad İbrahim Pasha, a period akin to a Renaissance in our country. Upon returning after seven years abroad, I witnessed the destruction of the colonnaded porticoes of Direklerarası. This architectural masterpiece, built by İbrahim Pasha and inspired by Rivoli Street in Paris, as vaguely described by Yirmisekiz Mehmed Efendi, could have been restored with minimal effort. Unfortunately, the historical and arguably the only original street of our city was destroyed, leaving it in its current dismal and unattractive state, which profoundly distressed me.Footnote 123
In the passage addressed to Cemil Pasha, Ahmed Muhtar criticized the destruction of an innovative and aesthetically pleasing street for the sake of widening it, especially since it was constructed during the period that he regarded as the Renaissance of the Ottoman Empire. Ahmed Muhtar’s perception of the early eighteenth century aligns closely with Ahmed Refik’s views on the Tulip Period (1718–30) as ‘a period of brilliant awakening for the Ottomans, marking the initial phase of the widespread influence of European civilization in the Orient’.Footnote 124 Ahmed Muhtar’s claims about the street run into obvious problems in terms of historical chronology; Cemil Pasha was not the mayor at the time the columns were demolished and the Rivoli Street in Paris, which he claimed was the inspiration for Direklerarası Street, was built for the commemoration of Napoleon Bonaparte’s victory at Rivoli in 1797. Ahmed Muhtar’s description of Direklerarası as ‘the city’s historic and perhaps the only original street’ also suggests that he was probably unaware of the total demolition and reconstruction of the porticoes in 1880.
Conclusion
In light of the spatial turn in urban historiography, this article has approached Direklerarası not merely as a site of physical interventions but as a socially produced space, shaped by regulatory decisions, cultural practices and public negotiations. As Lefebvre theorized, space is not a neutral container but a dynamic product of social relations and historical processes. The transformation of Direklerarası unfolded through such a dialectic: between state-led regulations and public use, between symbolic representation and everyday practice and between efforts to modernize and desire to preserve. Thus, the case of Direklerarası illustrates how spatial change in the late Ottoman capital was not only imposed from above, but also actively experienced, reinterpreted and negotiated by diverse urban actors.
The colonnaded porticoes of Direklerarası were first destroyed after a harsh winter in 1880, the water balance and the fountain were removed from Acemoğlu Square following the 1894 earthquake and the porticoed columns were demolished after the Aksaray Fire of 1911. At first glance, it seems that natural disasters brought about the decline of Direklerarası Street. However, these disasters merely accelerated the need for political authorities to address long-standing urban challenges. Contemporary periodicals had already framed these issues as urban problems before state action was taken. This suggests that it was most likely public discourse that influenced the spatial transformation of Direklerarası Street. Furthermore, while Ottoman official records lack documentation on the demolition and reconstruction of the porticoes, newspapers extensively chronicled the process, capturing public opinion and reactions and providing detailed discussions of potential solutions. Indeed, evidence from these periodicals reveals that the porticoes, later praised as original, had in fact been reconstructed in around 1880.
Each attempt to reorganize Direklerarası Street was shaped by a range of contexts and concerns beyond urbanism alone. Despite calls in periodicals in the 1880s to remove the columns to expand the street, they were reconstructed by imperial decree, indicating the precedence of central authority over emerging visions of urban reform. Similarly, Ottoman periodicals viewed the removal of the water balance and fountain in Acemoğlu Square as an urban issue focused on functionality and public benefit. However, later correspondence between state institutions revealed that the removal of the water balance was a more complex matter, involving different state agencies and highlighting a conflict between the modernizing state’s new urban responsibilities and the principles governing the traditional waqf system. While both the state and the waqf sought to promote public benefit, the autonomous administration of waqfs, based on Sharia law, prevented the water supply of one mosque from being supported by the water routes of another mosque’s waqf. In the same way, the efforts by political authorities to prohibit sitting on the chairs placed on the pavement not only reflected the modern urban belief that ‘pavements are for pedestrians’ but also echoed a traditional vision preventing the observation of passers-by, particularly women.
The decline in the popularity of Direklerarası Street coincides with the loss of its spatial and architectural characteristics. However, it remains difficult to determine whether the street’s decline was a result of the loss of its architectural attributes, or whether its deterioration led to the neglect of its aesthetic components. Political, social and cultural shifts during the Second Constitutional Era redefined its image. Increasingly regarded as a spatial remnant of the Abdülhamid II regime, Direklerarası came to be perceived as incompatible with the ideals of the constitutional period and its vision of modern urban identity. Factors such as the proliferation of theatrical performances and entertainment across the city, a perspective that increasingly sanctified Ramadan, evolving standards of civility and a new urban order prioritizing public transportation contributed to the transformation of Direklerarası from a centre of attraction to a less prominent area.
The priority in the city layout was given to public transportation and the distinctive features and aesthetic values of the street were secondary to its function as public passageway. Direklerarası lost its character as an arcade with the demolition of its porticoed columns and one of its hallmarks with the relocation of Osman Baba Tomb. While the nostalgic literature of the early Republican period described Direklerarası as endowed with cultural heritage, with the emphasis on its antique and historical value, contemporary periodicals reflected little public reaction to the destruction of colonnaded porticoes. The street, which had largely retained its spatial configuration from the 1720s to the 1880s, underwent a series of significant transformations beginning in the 1880s, as it developed into a lively promenade and entertainment hub and ultimately lost its architectural integrity and spatial coherence by 1911. As this article has demonstrated, this transformation was shaped by a complex interplay of urban reforms, public reactions and the spatial practices of those who engaged with the street.
Acknowledgments
The author expresses sincere gratitude to the members of the project team – Ahmet Yaşar, Onur Güneş Ayas, İzzet Tugay Tatlı, Cansu Kılıç and Mert Gezici – for their valuable contributions, with particular thanks to İzzet Tugay Tatlı for his assistance in preparing the maps. The author also extends appreciation to the journal’s anonymous peer reviewers, whose insightful comments have significantly enhanced the quality of this article.
Funding statement
This work was supported by the TUBITAK – The Scientific and Technological Research Council of Türkiye under Grant ARDEB 1001 – Project No: 121K990.
Competing interests
The author declares none.
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