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Istanbul residents rally around their beloved stray dogs
As part of Istanbul's modernization push, the government wants to
kick its dogs off the streets and into parks. Some city residents are
howling.
By
Alexander Christie-Miller, Correspondent /
October 31, 2012
Few aspects of
Istanbul's
government-driven gentrification efforts have caused as much angst as a
scheme to do away with the city's legions of stray dogs and cats.
In recent weeks, several thousand people have marched through
Istanbul and other Turkish cities in protest of a draft law that
envisions the rounding up and relocation of stray animals to
specially-created "natural habitat parks."
The law pits efforts to
revamp the booming city against a mindset that remains strong within
older districts, where street animals are seen as legitimate denizens of
the city.
"These
are the neighborhood's dogs," says Hamit Yilmaz Ozcan, as he sits with
Chico, an elderly Alsatian, and Hercule, his younger, rust-colored
companion, two strays that reside near his clothing shop in the
neighborhood of Cukurcuma.
"They protect us and everyone loves them."
The
government has expressed bafflement at the hostility, insisting its aim
is to protect strays from the danger and hunger they face on the
streets.
Authorities say the dogs and cats will be fed and cared
for at the new "habitat parks" situated on city outskirts, where they
will be visited by school children and available for adoption.
"The
proposed law aims to make animals live," the Ministry of Forestry and
Water, which drafted the bill, said in a statement last month. "The aim
is to prevent bad treatment of animals, clarify institutional
responsibilities, and to strengthen the mechanisms of animal ownership.”
Currently
Turkey's
strays are rounded up by municipal authorities, who generally vaccinate
and spay or neuter them before releasing them back onto the streets
with ear tags.
Animal rights activists are suspicious of government motives.
“The
intention is to massacre these animals in a place where people will not
see it,” says Emel Yildiz, a film actress and one of Turkey’s most
prominent animal rights activists.
Street
animals have been a part of Turkish culture for generations, and many
Istanbul residents believe they have as much right to inhabit the
streets as humans.
In the central Beyoglu district, a shopping and
nightlife hub popular with tourists, stray dogs and cats are a fixture
of the crowded, narrow streets. They are fed and often groomed by local
businesses and residents. Some even become local celebrities.
One
such character is Nazli, an obese Rottweiler mongrel who spends her days
waddling between cafés, butchers, and fishmongers off Istiklal, the
city’s busiest shopping street.
“Everyone loves her,” says Kubilay
Bircan a café worker on Hazzo Pulo Passage, where Nazli often sleeps at
night. “The shopkeepers feed her with different things: fish and meat
mainly. We all take care of her,” he says.
Four years ago, local
tradesmen, concerned about the length of her toe nails, wrestled Nazli
to the ground so a veterinarian could clip them, recalls Rita Cindoyan, a
shopkeeper in the passage. “You couldn’t just take [Nazli] to a new
place because she has been here all her life and she is looked after,”
she says.
At Coskun butcher’s shop in the nearby Fish Bazaar,
where Nazli is better known as Zehra, manager Ibrahim Ersoy is blunt
about the proposed law.
“We would not let it happen,” he said. “In
our language we have a saying that the one who doesn’t love animals
can’t love people.”
Opponents
of the latest scheme see echoes of the "Great Dog Massacre of 1910," an
event embedded in the city’s folklore. Ottoman authorities rounded up
most of Istanbul’s 60,000 stray dogs and dumped them on the deserted
island of Sivriada, a tooth of rock that lies in the nearby
Marmara Sea. The dogs slowly starved to death.
That cull too took place amid a campaign to modernize the city, and
was met with fierce resistance. The Western-oriented Young Turk
government wanted to "Europeanize" Istanbul, and saw the strays as an
embarrassment.
The government has even grander ambitions today: to make the city into a global hub, like
New York or
Tokyo. Turkey
is riding high after a decade of economic growth in which per capita
income tripled. A wave of urban renewal schemes in Istanbul and other
major cities have seen vibrant, ramshackle neighborhoods razed and
replaced with luxury housing projects, while former inhabitants have
been
shunted to tower blocks on the urban fringe.
“Strays
are often seen as representing tradition or backwardness and associated
with poor communities,” says Chris Pearson, a historian at the
University of Liverpool
who is studying the urban history of dogs. “For a city to appear
modern, it must have clean, orderly streets, where shoppers and
businessmen are not harassed by strays.”
In
Paris and
London,
the tide turned against street dogs in the mid-1800s, fueled mainly by
modern ideas of public health, but also by other factors, including the
rise of pet ownership. But many people fear the changes are destroying a
traditional social fabric, of which street animals form a part.
“Istanbul
is going through a huge modernization, and in the new living spaces,
animals don’t have a place,” says Tolga Sezkin, a photographer who cares
for several street dogs.
Minister
of Forestry and Water Veysel Eroglu, whose department is responsible
for the draft law, argues that the proposal is more humane than
practices in many other countries.
“This law does not aim to kill and destroy animals. Rather it aims to keep them alive,” he said,
according to Turkish newspaper Sabah.
“In
the Western countries animals are killed in these kind of places,” he
said, referring to the proposed "habitat parks." “For us such a course
is not an option."
The ministry also pointed out that the draft
law includes measures that would criminalize the abuse and torture of
animals for the first time in Turkey.
The bill has supporters. “There are too many [strays],” says Abdullah Yilmaz, 64, who sells
simit – traditional Turkish bagels – from a stall on Istiklal Street.
“I
walk 50 meters from my home to the bus stop every morning, and 10 dogs
follow me. They are annoying for tourists. When there is a big group of
dogs I can see them get scared.”
The furor has prompted an
indefinite postponement of the parliamentary vote on the draft law, but
the street animals' patrons are already taking precautions against a
possible round up.
Two weeks ago in Cukurcuma, Mr. Ozcan fitted Chico and Hercule with new collars bearing their names.
“If they come and grab them in the night when no one’s around, they will see the collars and think twice,” he hopes.
Labels: Animal Stories, Companions, culture, Social-Cultural Deviations