Introduction
In recent times a new word has entered the political lexicon across Europe and beyond—Roma. When the first World Romany Congress met in the London suburb of Orpington in 1971, it would have been hard to encounter the public use of the word outside of a small number of academics and activists. Since the late 1980s, the situation of Roma has risen up national and international political agendas, producing thousands of political initiatives costing hundreds of millions of euros. At the same time, Roma has been transformed into a dynamic political identity championed by hundreds of organisations, thousands of activists and applied to millions of people throughout Europe and beyond.
Economic, social, political and other changes since the Second World War have increased the political saliency of domestic Roma populations. This is most vividly the case in the dramatic impoverishment of large Roma minorities in Eastern Europe following the collapse of Communism, but also expressed in greater public attention given to communities in Western Europe. The politics of Roma has been influenced by migration from east to west, which has encouraged the intervention of transnational political institutions. At the same time, the capacity of Roma people themselves, that is, the subjects of the public discourse about Roma, to participate in public life has increased. Greater numbers, higher education, material and institutional support and other factors mean that Roma can no longer be excluded from the state and society, but have
acquired (greater and growing) agency to engage in public affairs. The degree to which this agency can be expressed reflects a fundamental break with the past, creating much more dynamic relationships between Roma and political authorities than has traditionally been the case.
The political significance of Roma today reflects both pragmatic and ideological needs—to discuss and address objective issues, for example, unemployment, poor housing, discrimination and so on requiring governmental attention, and choosing to do so through a specific, ethnic discourse, which has become discursively and institutionally integrated under the category label Roma. This process is far from complete and there remain many alternative, but associated, identities, yet Roma has become by far the most widely used public identity applied to particular communities throughout Europe.
The evolution of the politics of Roma reached a new stage in 2011 with the adoption of the EU Framework for National Roma Integration Strategies. The Framework brings together specific Roma policy actions from across Europe in a single institutional process and encourages Member States to adopt further Roma-specific measures. Though the objects of policy (the Roma) are vaguely defined and some key countries refuse to use the term for policy purposes, the Framework and associated discourse emphasise and promote Roma as a distinct, collective political identity. In effect, a political community has been defined and institutionalised bringing together highly diverse and diffuse minority populations through political initiatives linked by the Framework.
Addressing Roma politics as distinct phenomenon touches directly on the question—to whom and/or what does Roma refer? At face value it is the politics of a particular group of people called Roma, though it is well recognised among specialists in the field that the Roma people of the European Framework and other institutional documents denote a notional population rather than one defined by sharing a unique or exclusive defining cultural or other characteristic. The integration of the narrative of the Roma people into wider debates about historical and contemporary exclusion arising from ethnoracial difference allows Roma politics to be understood as reflecting both the empowerment of the Roma and the recognition of their needs by public authorities. Ideologically and systemically, this is the Time of the Gypsies and now
only sustained commitment is required to overcome historically rooted prejudices and discrimination for the Roma to finally enjoy equality with their fellow citizens throughout the continent. Roma has become a symbol of the enlightenment of mainstream politics.
This book challenges this conventional conceptualisation of Roma in order to examine the political factors that have produced contemporary politicisation. Rather than assuming Roma as a single and distinct group whose specific characteristics mean that they can and should be treated as a transnational policy object, we choose to emphasise the diversity embraced within Europe’s notional Roma population in order to illustrate on the wider political factors that have determined the politicisation process. We do not make any claim that Roma is not an authentic communal identity, nor that there are no distinct cultural characteristics or exclude the possibility of applying specific and objective criteria (such as Romani language or self-identification) to politically defining who is and is not Roma, but to focus attention on the fact that Roma identity has been mobilised for political purposes.
This book is novel in combining the insights of Ian Law’s work on the racialisation of the planet (Law 2010, 2012; Law et al. 2014; Tate and Law 2015; Zakharov and Law 2016), and the Roma inside and outside Europe with Martin Kovats’ Roma scholarship (Kovats 1996, 1997; Surdu and Kovats 2015) and his experience as Special Advisor on Roma issues to the EU Commissioner for Employment, Social Affairs and Integration during the development of the EU’s Roma policy framework. Informed by global race theory, the book offers a new critical framework for understanding the rise of contemporary Roma politics. For a long time Zoltan Barany’s (2002) The East European Gypsies was the only book about European Roma politics and described the emergence of Roma politics in the early post-communist period. There are several multi-authored books on Roma politics (Guy 2001; Sigona and Trehan 2009; Marsh and Strand 2006) presenting chapter-sized analyses of aspects of Roma politics—case studies, policy analyses and theory. Of single-authored works, Klimova-Alexander’s (2005) The Romany Voice in World Politics focused on elite Roma activists’ attempts to gain recognition for Roma at the United Nations. McGarry’s (2010) Who speaks for the Roma? is based on his doctoral thesis comparing the development of
Roma politics in Hungary and Romania. Vermeersch’s The Romani Movement updates and develops Barany’s east European focus, but with more specific attention given to regional political context and theory.
The book takes the literature on Roma politics to the next level in presenting an analysis of Roma as a distinct and definable political phenomenon, bringing together the politics of Roma in both Eastern and Western Europe, including the growing role of European institutions in promoting Roma policy and politics. It defines Roma identity not as the marker of a distinct people, that is, the Roma, but as a politicised label broadly and variously applied. This allows for analysis and explanation of the characteristic paradox of the Roma political phenomenon: the rapid rise of both Roma self-organisation/interest representation and dedicated Roma integration policies alongside the deterioration and stagnation in the living conditions and life chances of many of the people now publicly defined as Roma.
As David Mayall (2004) has argued, ‘this idea of a single race … allows the group a worldwide identity which unites Gypsies across all national borders’ (Mayall 2004, p. 6). The progressive value of the construction of a Roma ‘people’ facilitates cross-national, cross-group identity formation which can provide a unified form of strategic essentialism, a basis for unified political action, claims for recognition and redress, as well as a narrative for emancipation. Nevertheless, in demonstrating the influence of mainstream governance interests, this book highlights the risk of Roma identity becoming a straitjacket of artificial commonality, submerging diversity and complexity while promoting a necessary essential separation from the rest of the nation or population with its consequences of naming, furthering and reproducing that separation particularly when this has resulted from state activity and when it has become increasingly embedded in political and policy discourse through the interconnections of group and state formation.
The conceptualisation of racism presented here involves two key breaks with contemporary accounts. Firstly there is a core focus on the ‘colonial genealogy of racialised governmentalities’ (Hesse 2004, p. 26, see also Hesse 2011), constructing racism not as exceptional ideologies, but as a social force at the core of polities and their forms of social administration implemented through specific technologies of racial rule. This challenges
an earlier hegemonic Eurocentric account which failed to problematise Western modernity and its universalist narratives of human rights and democracy. Fundamental recognition of the intrinsic racialisation of liberal democracies is a key starting point here. In Europe and elsewhere racism is being reduced to a problem of human rights and these frameworks and discourse are not only inadequate for the task at hand but are also working to obscure and deny the contemporary power and significance of racism. This argument has been developed fully in research output from a recent three-year EU FP7 research project: Racism, Governance and Public policy, beyond human rights (Sian et al. 2013). This theoretical break derives from the long sociological tradition placing race at the centre of the making of Western modernity, from Du Bois, Cesaire and Fanon to contemporary theorists including Hesse, Sayyid, Goldberg and Winant, and this book examines many aspects and implications of this set of arguments in relation to the Roma, not least in relation to EU Roma policy. This framework carries within it an explanation of the racialisation of the world, a ‘diffusion model’ (Dikötter 2011) whereby racism began in the West and then spread outwards operating primarily with negative attributions of blackness and positive attributions of whiteness subordinating non-Western cultures and cognitive traditions. This model ‘ultimately fails’ as it has a Eurocentric bias and presents a monoracism account making it unable to explain different forms of racial discourse such as anti-Gypsyism which originated inside Europe not through the relations between the ‘West and the rest’ (Miles 1993). Frank Dikötter (2011, p. 24) advocates an ‘interactive model’ for understanding racial globalisation examining the relationships between external structures of racialisation and the active ‘indigenization and appropriation of racist belief systems’.
Roma identity is associated with a wide variety of different communities found across Europe and beyond stretching back more than half a millennium, providing a deep well of social experiences and cultural expressions to inform public discourse. This book focuses on key contemporary political innovations, such as the emergence of Roma activism and the internationalisation of a policy discourse of Roma marginality. Relationality is important here (Goldberg 2002, 2009) and attention needs to be given to the transnational relations between forms of Roma
discourse across differing national and local contexts where a plurality of Gypsy identities and traditions has become aggregated into the overarching Roma account. Polyracism theory (Law et al. 2014) has a set of key implications for opening up critical analysis of the racialisation of Gypsy and Roma categories. It sets up a framework which facilitates the critical interrogation of these processes in pre-modern and medieval contexts. It also opens up the analysis of the construction of Gypsy and Roma categories and policies in the context of other varieties of modernity such as within Islamic, feudal and Communist contexts, extending evaluation of these processes outside Europe, taking a global perspective. Lastly it also breaks the dominant progressive representation of Roma discourse and policy, explaining this as one further problematic type of racialised governance, which requires strategies of deracialisation if it is not to further wrap up these communities in the race-making web of modernising statehood.
As David Goldberg has argued, in the context of a geo-regional mapping of racialisations and a developing theory of racial states, ‘the constitution of “Gypsy” [and Roma] in Europe is a product of state racial management in interaction with group self-formation’ (Goldberg 2002, p. 196). Such racialised governance operates not to provide a framework for emancipation and liberation from racial categorisation but to contain, constrain and fix these populations in differentiated and inferiorised positions. So where this is the case all such constructions, aggregations and objectifications are fundamentally problematic and necessarily work to define and reproduce Roma as a separated, differentiated grouping in political contexts, subject to the continually renewing divisions, segregations and exclusions of nationally inflected racial neoliberalism. As markets drive and reproduce complex structural intersectional social and economic divisions, ‘integration’ remains an absurd political goal in the face of forces and processes that undermine the effectiveness of EU, national and local policy initiatives. Therefore, a theoretical framework drawing on critical race theory and expanded into a global account can provide a foundation for developing a set of positions which inform a fundamental critique of the Roma category and associated policy frameworks which then has a set of transformative implications for progressive change and the envisioning of post-Roma futures.
Placing processes of race and racialisation as a ‘foundational pillar’ (Goldberg 2009) of modernising globalisation enables them to be identified as constituting a new and renewing pattern of modern state and regional arrangements for managing populations. The increasing shift to neoliberal states, where their role becomes one of securing conditions for the maximisation of privatised interests and corporate profits has provided a new terrain for configurations of race. The renewed critical debate on the role neoliberalism plays in contemporary forms of racialisation provides an important dimension in developing analysis of policy and governmentality (Goldberg 2009; Hall 2011; Bhattacharya 2013). Neoliberalism has provided a hegemonic framework within which people have been bound into political projects which carry through a range of strategies and techniques of governance and managerialism involving securitisation, military occupation and penalising the poor.
The transformation to forms of neoliberal governmentality has had profound consequences for those categorised as Roma (van Barr 2012), particularly in Eastern Europe, which include economic restructuring and associated loss of work, governance through decentralisation, privatisation of public services, the mobilisation of civil society agencies and associated claims for neoliberal conceptions of human rights. Huub van Barr confirms that neoliberalism is ‘a flexible and contestable technology of governing that has migrated globally and been re-shaped by different regimes, be they authoritarian, democratic, post-colonial or postCommunist’ (2012, p. 1293) with different consequences for Roma populations. Peter Vermeersch (2012) has also identified the differing ways in which Roma and their ‘problems’ have been conceived in public policy debates across European countries. Therefore the new term ‘polyracial neoliberalism’ (Law and Tate 2015) is used here to denote the variety of contemporary contexts which have driven Roma technologies of rule.
Discussing the breadth of Roma politics across Europe confronts the inconsistency and ambiguity of how Roma identity is publicly applied and requires consideration of the distinction between self and external labelling and between subjective and objective categorisation. In this book ‘Gypsy’ is used (particularly when discussing the past) when referring to communities and organisations that call themselves Gypsy, as well as when reporting how it has been used by others. Following recent
convention and the fact that in a growing number states Gypsies/Roma have been officially recognised as national or ethnic minorities, Gypsy is usually capitalised, though this must not be taken as implying that those referred to as such have enjoyed such a status across time and space. Roma is used more in respect of contemporary identity politics. In order to distinguish between the direct reporting of references to Roma, or selfascribing Roma people or organisations, the word is italicised when used as a discursive category label for a wide range of communities in a political context.
Chapter 1 presents an overview of how Roma emerged as an increasingly significant political subject across the continent. It examines the differences in political development and context between Eastern and Western Europe and the importance of European integration in expanding opportunities for Roma identity politics. Both Gypsy and Roma are used, reflecting the still incomplete process of transition from one inclusive label to another.
Chapters 2 and 3 examine the identities and the diversity attributed to communities included in the broadest, European (political) definition of the Roma and the nature of the historical record and historical narratives applied to a large number of socially, culturally, economically and politically diverse communities for whom there is no universal objective marker of Roma-ness. Chapter 4 discusses the emergence and development of Roma political activism, while Chap. 5 examines the growth and internationalisation of explicit Roma policy and how this has politicised Roma identity in ways that effectively promote economic and social exclusion.
The final chapter (Chap. 6) brings together the discussion of the subjectivity of Roma identity with the apparent failure of Roma policies, the weakness of Roma self-organisation and the public hostility towards Roma to question the dominant narrative that the contemporary politicisation of Roma identity represents an emancipatory break with the past. It argues that since the end of the Cold War, Roma identity has been politicised primarily as a means of justifying and managing poverty and exclusion rather than in order to overcome these, exacerbating the tension between citizenship-based and ethnic/identity politics, but also maps out the prospects and scope for the development of alternative agendas.
References
Barany, Zoltan. 2002. The East European Gypsies, Regime Change, Marginalization and Ethnopolitics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Bhattacharya, G. 2013. Racial Neoliberal Britain? In The State of Race, ed. V. Kalra, N. Kapoor, and J. Rhodes. London: Palgrave.
Dikötter, Frank. 2011. The Racialisation of the Globe: Historical Perspectives’. In Racism in the Modern World, Historical Perspectives on Cultural Transfer and Adaptation, ed. M. Berg and S. Wendt. Oxford: Berghahn.
Goldberg, D.T. 2002. The Racial State. Oxford: Blackwell.
Goldberg, D.T. 2009. The Threat of Race: Reflections on Racial Neoliberalism. Oxford: Blackwell.
Guy, Will, ed. 2001. Between Past and Future, the Roma of Central and Eastern Europe. Hatfield: University of Hertfordshire Press.
Hall, Stuart. 2011. The Neoliberal Revolution. Soundings 48 (Summer): 9–28.
Hesse, Barnor. 2004a. 2011. Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: The Post-Racial Horizon. South Atlantic Quarterly 110 (1): 155–178.
Hesse, Barnor. 2004b. Discourse on Institutional Racism: The Genealogy of a Concept. In Institutional Racism in Higher Education, ed. Ian Law, Deborah Phillips, and Laura Turney. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham.
Klimova-Alexander, I. 2005. The Romany Voice in World Politics, the United Nations and Non-State Actors. Farnham: Ashgate
Kovats, M. 1996. The Roma and the Minority Self-Government System in Hungary. Immigrants and Minorities 15 (1): 42–58.
Kovats, M. 1997. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: Three Faces of ‘Dialogue’— The Development of Roma Politics in Hungary. Contemporary Politics 3 (1): 55–71.
Law, Ian. 2010. Racism and Ethnicity, Global Debates, Dilemmas, Directions. London: Pearson Books.
Law, Ian. 2012. Red Racisms, Racism in Communist and Post-Communist Contexts. Basingstoke: Palgrave.
Law, I., and S. Tate. 2015. Caribbean Racisms. Basingstoke: Palgrave.
Law, Ian with Anna Jacobs, Nisreen Kaj, Simona Pagano, and Bozena SojkaKoirala. 2014. Mediterranean Racisms, Connections and Complexities in the Mediterranean Region. London: Palgrave.
Marsh, A., and E. Strand. 2006. Gypsies and the Problem of Identities, Contextual, Constructed and Contested. Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute.
Mayall, D. 2004. Gypsy Identities—From Egipcyans and Moon-Men to the Ethnic Romany. Oxford: Routledge.
McGarry, Aidan. 2010. Who Speaks for Roma? Political Representation of a Transnational Minority Community. New York: Continuum.
Miles, Robert. 1993. Racism After ‘Race Relations. London: Routledge.
Sian, Katy, Ian Law, and S. Sayyid. 2013. Racism, Governance and Public Policy, Beyond Human Rights. London: Routledge.
Sigona, N., and N. Trehan, eds. 2009. Romani Politics in Contemporary Europe: Poverty, Ethnic Mobilisation and the Neoliberal Order. Basingstoke: Palgrave.
Surdu, M., and M. Kovats. 2015. Roma Identity as an Expert-Political Construction. Social Inclusion 3 (5): 5–18.
Tate, Shirley, and Ian Law. 2015. Caribbean Racisms, Connections and Complexities in the Racialisation of the Caribbean Region. Basingstoke: Palgrave.
Van Barr, Huub. 2012. Socioeconomic Mobility and Neoliberal Governmentality in Postsocialist Europe, Activation and the Dehumanization of the Roma. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 38 (8): 1289–1304.
Vermeersch, P. 2012. Reframing the Roma: EU Initiatives and the Problem of Reinterpretation. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 39 (8): 1195–1212.
Zakharov, Nikolay, and Ian Law. 2016. Post-Soviet Racisms. Basingstoke: Palgrave.
The Politics of Roma in Western Europe
In Western Europe, the politics of Roma is most often explicitly associated with immigration from Central and Southeast Europe. In 1997, the arrival in Dover of a few hundred people seeking sanctuary from the new European democracies of the Czech Republic and Slovakia attracted public attention in Britain. These people became the target of tabloid indignation and exaggeration as the country was assailed by fears of an invasion of scrounging Gypsies (encouraged by television programmes in their home countries) seeking an easy life at the UK taxpayers’ expense. It seemed hard to believe claims that these people were genuine refugees when they came from countries which had only just returned to the democratic fold following the West’s victory in the Cold War. When it was shown that Roma communities were suffering deep poverty and prejudice, the anxiety became even more acute due to the implication that (if something was not done soon) 100,000s more would come.
The UK government responded by posting immigration officials at Prague airport to ‘pre-clear’ passengers heading for Britain so that they would not claim asylum or otherwise breach immigration rules. Though there was no explicit mention of Roma, both the cause and effect of the action led to the widespread perception that this screening was based on a form of racial profiling. In 2004 the government suffered political embarrassment when the House of Lords came to the view that ‘an
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operation like this, prompted by an influx of asylum seekers who are overwhelmingly from one comparatively easily identifiable racial or ethnic group, requires enormous care if it is to be done without discrimination. … That did not happen. The inevitable conclusion is that the operation was inherently and systemically discriminatory and unlawful’ (Lords of Appeal 2004).
In the years that followed, East European Roma ceased to be a subject of national debate. Along with hundreds of thousands of other immigrants, many Roma found work, housing and enrolled their children in school. A study carried out by Equality of Czech and Slovak Roma children in the UK found almost universal fluency in English with standard of numeracy, literacy and science just below the national average. These results had been achieved despite the fact that the children were learning in a foreign language and that 85% of the pupils surveyed had previously been categorised in their home countries as having special educational needs (Equality/REF 2011).
Roma hit the headlines again in 2013 as UK political anxieties about the country’s relationship with the European Union (EU) focussed on fears about immigration from Bulgaria and Romania. Roma initially had a relatively minor role in this debate, such as the dismantling of a number of ‘camps’ in central London (London Evening Standard 2013), but the finding by academics that there were almost 200,000 East European Roma in the UK attracted national attention. Though presented as a ‘conservative estimate’, the publication by the University of Salford implied that that there were a huge number of East European Roma in the country, almost as many as the total number of citizens from the Eastern EU (excepting the Poles who numbered around half a million). The research also found that Roma migrants were seen as having ‘complex needs’ which local authorities found ‘challenging’, and linked this problem with the need for more funding (Brown et al. 2013, p. 8).
The Salford research reflected a common feature of political discussions about Roma—a preference for high population numbers, the association of Roma with social problems and a call for extra resources. More Roma equals more problems requiring more resources to be made available to address these issues. The methodology used to arrive at the estimate was quickly questioned by academics (Matras 2015a,
pp. 29–30) and even the UK government warned that the research should be ‘treated with extreme caution, as they are estimates based on replies from only a third of local authorities and rely on anecdotal information’. Nevertheless, this alarming number was enough to inspire a former Home Secretary to denounce Roma for behaving as if they lived ‘in a downtrodden village or woodland, because many of them don’t even live in areas where there are toilets or refuse collection facilities’ and to talk menacingly of social unrest (BBC 2013).
The arrival of migrants with little or no English from disadvantaged backgrounds produces needs which public authorities have had to respond to and there have been local initiatives developed in cities, such as Manchester and Glasgow, explicitly to support Roma. Yet, Roma has not become an acute or even significant political issue and there are grounds for cautious optimism that the UK may be able to cope with Roma migration relatively well. Though far from perfect, there are wellestablished structures for and experience of assisting new communities, as well as effective laws against racial discrimination which deter media demonisation. The UK economy has created many low-paid jobs which have allowed communities, such as those studied by the University of Manchester’s MigRom project, to work hard, learn English, attend school and also support relatives at home (MigRom 2015).
The prospects for France are less auspicious. Though East European asylum seekers had attracted public attention from the 1990s, Roma became the subject of domestic political debate in spectacular fashion in 2010 following a violent protest by a community of the country’s indigenous Gens du Voyage (a legal categorisation of travellers). In response, the government ordered the demolition of shanty towns and temporary settlements, including the growing number of camps created by groups of migrants from new EU Member States. The ambiguity of whether this action was aimed at the native travelling population or immigrant Roma was soon overcome by the release of a government circular to regional police chiefs ordering that ‘300 camps or illegal settlements must be evacuated within three months; Roma camps are a priority. ... It is down to the Préfect [state representative] in each department to begin a systematic dismantling of the illegal camps, particularly those of the Roma’ (Guardian 2010).
This policy of explicit ethnic targeting and the violence of the clearances sparked protest at home and abroad, but it was the timing of the action that turned it into an international political issue. Instead of processing each person’s case on its merits in accordance with the law, in taking collective action to remove EU citizens the French government’s actions called into question the meaning one of the EU’s four freedoms. The Commissioner for Rights and Justice, Vivienne Redding, made a passionate intervention likening it to the treatment of Jews in Vichy France. The Sarkozy government responded by expressing dismay at the criticism rather than its cause but, to avoid being censured a European Commission investigation, the circular was withdrawn and commitments given to respect the rights of camp residents.
In 2012 the new Hollande government issued detailed guidance to local authorities on what steps they should take when dismantling camps and processing their inhabitants for removal (Carrera 2013). A senior official was appointed to supervise the policy and France also signed a repatriation agreement with Romania. Evictions continued and even increased, with the number of Roma affected rising from 11,982 in 2012 to 13,483 in 2014 (EURACTIV 2015). Having a policy allowed politicians to explain to the public what should happen, but Amnesty International noted that in practice Roma were ‘still being repeatedly chased out of their living spaces without being adequately consulted, informed or rehoused, in breach of France’s international commitments. No effective safeguards to prevent forced evictions have been put in place, and the situation on the ground shows that, in fact, the measures taken by the government so far are insufficient to remedy this violation of international human rights law’ (Amnesty International 2013).
While Interior Minister Valls insisted that Roma should go home and integrate in Romania or Bulgaria (and not in France), the cruel futility of closing down camps and removing people who had a right to return provoked passionate public debate about the treatment of Roma migrants. In October 2013, the removal of 15-year-old Leonarda Dibrani from her school bus and deportation to Kosovo sparked nationwide protest forcing the government to allow her to return to France pending appeal. Nevertheless, greater public awareness of Roma did not alter government policy. In January 2015 Michel Valls became prime minister, Leonarda
lost her appeal, camps continued to be dismantled and Roma returned to their home countries. A recent comparative survey of public opinion found a majority (60%) of the French acknowledging an unfavourable view of Roma, reflecting the impact of France’s aggressive policy on public perceptions of Roma (Stokes 2015, p. 22).
If France’s initial engagement with the politics of Roma created a toxic legacy of state violence and public antipathy, it followed a path already trodden by its southern neighbour Italy. For decades Italian authorities have been locating both Balkan migrants and indigenous communities in ‘nomad camps’, EU enlargement not only increased the number of migrants coming from Romania and Bulgaria but also transformed them into EU citizens. Some of the new arrivals set up home in shanty towns or derelict buildings in various cities around the country, producing concerns about public safety. The murder of the wife of a naval officer in Rome led to an upsurge of public hostility, which eventually resulted in a mob burning down a Roma camp outside Naples.
The issue of Roma migrants got caught up in a wider immigration debate which became a central feature of domestic Italian politics in the run-up to the general election in April 2008. Right-wing politicians competed with each other to express their antipathy towards Roma and demand mass expulsions (Sigona 2009, pp. 290–292). The leader of the National Alliance, Gianfanco Fini, declared that Roma ‘had no scruples about kidnapping children or having children [of their own] for the purposes of begging. To talk of integration with people with a “culture” of that sort is pointless’ (Guardian 2007). Within weeks of its victory, the newly installed Berlusconi government issued a ‘Declaration of a state of emergency in relation to settlements of nomad communities’.
As well as likening the presence of impoverished Roma migrants to a national catastrophe, the Nomad Emergency empowered the authorities to speed up the destruction of illegal settlements and the removal of their residents, as well as to register and fingerprint camp residents, including children (Law et al. 2014). This measure became a cause celebre for international human rights activists and was condemned by the European Parliament which called on Italy ‘to refrain from collecting the fingerprints from Roma, including minors, as this would clearly constitute an act of discrimination based on race and ethnic origin’ (BBC News 2008).
Nevertheless, soon the European Commission announced that it was satisfied that Italy was not in breach of EU law. The Nomad Emergency, described by Amnesty International as an ‘all-time low in Italy’s discriminatory treatment of Roma’ was finally lifted two years after being declared illegal in 2011. It also left a legacy of widespread aversion to Roma with the Pew Foundation research cited above finding 86% of Italians having an unfavourable opinion about Roma (Stokes, p. 22).
Public controversy over the treatment of Roma migrants has not been confined to Britain, France and Italy, but has affected other Western states. In 2009 the Council of Europe’s Human Rights Commissioner condemned plans for the involuntary return of thousands of Roma to Kosovo and urged Germany ‘to prevent any further forced returns to Kosovo, particularly of Roma people, as long as the situation there does not guarantee a safe and sustainable life for returnees’ (Council of Europe 2009). In 2011, Denmark was forced to backtrack on the expulsion of indigent Roma following a legal challenge by the European Roma Rights Centre. Roma migrants have been driven from their homes in Ireland, where the authorities attracted international embarrassment by taking two Roma children into care on the grounds that they were ‘too blonde’ to belong to be the offspring of their East European parents (Guardian 2013).
Outside Europe, Canada has been a focus of Central and Eastern European Roma migration going back to the 1990s. Following a sudden rise in clams for asylum, Canada imposed visa requirements on citizens from Czech Republic, Slovakia and Hungary, causing tension between governments. When the number of claims dropped, the need for a visa was withdrawn, leading to a new spike in applications that resulted in a revision of domestic asylum rules, as well as providing a platform for critical analysis of the situation of Roma in Eastern Europe as claimants sought to justify their applications on the grounds of racism and discrimination in their home countries (Arhin 2013).
Roma identity has become the focus of political debate largely due to immigration from Eastern Europe, yet the Western states also have longstanding domestic minority communities which have become included into a pan-European Roma discourse. These communities have been traditionally known by a wide variety of generic or communal names such
The Rise of Roma Politics in Contemporary Europe
as Gypsies, Gitanos (derived from the early belief that they originated in Egypt), or Travellers, Gens du Voyage, Woonwagenbewoners (based on an itinerant lifestyles). There are also communities descended from Romani-speaking migrants that settled in the West decades or even centuries ago, such as German Sinti or Finnish Kale.
Despite having a significant cultural impact on Western societies, for both systemic and demographic reasons, these communities have been largely neglected by public authorities. Allowed to support themselves economically, state intervention has focused on regulating their movement rather than promoting their inclusion in the mainstream labour force. Consequently, levels of education and literacy are low and many communities are socially and culturally isolated from wider society. In terms of numbers, Western Europe’s domestic Gypsies make up a tiny part of national populations. Policies explicitly targeting them to overcome poverty and exclusion have been a more recent development, but one which has become institutionalised now that the EU requires all Member States to have a national Roma integration strategy. Though Gypsies have long been part of Western European states and societies, the politics of Roma in the region is being driven from the East, both in the form of Roma migrants and the extension of Roma governance across the Continent.
The Politics of Roma in Central and Eastern Europe
Western Europe conventionally includes the 15 Member States of the EU prior to 2007 together with the states of the European Economic Area. The terminology for Europe east of this zone is more nuanced and this book deals mainly with the politics of Roma in what is usually known as Central and Southeast Europe, comprising those states (or their successors) which were communist in the Cold War but not part of the Soviet Union (except the Baltic republics). This book reasserts the distinction between Eastern and Western Europe to emphasise the differences between the two halves of the continent in respect of Roma minorities, as well as the historical and political contexts relevant to the contemporary politics of Roma identity.
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Though the word ‘Roma’ is used far more frequently in the East, it would be an inaccurate simplification to distinguish between Eastern Roma and Western Gypsies. In the East there are still many identities other than Roma by which those included within the Roma political phenomenon refer to themselves and are referred to by others. There are also many Romani speakers in the West and there can be close social and cultural connections between communities living in the two halves of the continent resulting from waves of migration from East to West stretching back into the past of which contemporary asylum seekers and intra-EU labour migrants are just the most recent examples.
More important are demographic and economic differences between the two regions. In the East, national populations tend to be much smaller than in Western Europe and are in decline. There is also a marked difference in national wealth, which has a direct impact on the amount of money that can be spent on infrastructure, public services and social policy. The East is also distinct politically due to the relatively late arrival in the region of parliamentary democracy following decades of one party rule.
Half the states in the East are now members of the EU with the rest at various stages of anticipated accession. The region is also characterised by the number of new polities created since the end of the Cold War and the break-up of the Soviet Union, Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia. This recent proliferation of ever smaller states represented a second phase in the process of state fragmentation in the region during the twentieth century, the first occurring in the wake of World War I. Of the region’s 18 states, 14 have been created since 1990. Montenegro declared independence in 2006, Kosovo in 2008. The politicisation of Roma identity in the region has developed at a time of large-scale restructuring of political institutions in close association with national identities.
Comparative accounts of differing national contexts may be insightful but here we wish to emphasise the relational character of racialised Roma governance and dominant discourse and the shaping of Western antiGypsy racisms by the varied forms of racisms, or polyracism, found in Eastern Europe. The concept of polyracism is used here in the context of a new theory denoting the historical development of multiple origins of racism in different regions and forms as opposed to the monoracism arguments positing a linear development of Western racisms from the
classical world onwards and outwards. Dikötter (2011) refers in a related way to the importance of acknowledging the ‘polyphony’ of racial discourse. Arguments for discounting and ignoring an analysis of nonWestern racisms, because they are seen as of lesser importance or because they have been more weakly elaborated and implemented (Frederickson 2003; Eliav-Feldon et al. 2009), are very much open to challenge, particularly in the context of post-communist contexts. The significance of interconnections, interactions and crossings between systems of thought and the operation of racialised regimes and empires further problematise a refusal to understand the complexity of the process of racialisation across the planet offering to render only an incomplete and incoherent account. David Goldberg’s (2009) methodological emphasis on the significance of investigating the interconnections between racism in one place with racisms elsewhere illustrates the value of relational analysis, which opens up new avenues for study which a comparative methodology cannot. This book seeks to establish the relational work that Roma discourse is doing.
Democratisation
Roma may be a new political phenomenon, but its antecedents stretch back centuries in Eastern Europe. Communities now assumed within Roma political identity have been subject to the attention of authorities from the start, not least because Gypsy often denoted a specific legal and social status. The difference now is that Roma people have become active participants in the debate. In order to understand how this has come about in the post-communist period, it is important to consider the impact of the political approaches to Roma between the late 1940s and 1990s.
The first point to make is that Roma itself was rarely the identity used in public. The second is that there was no single communist policy, but a range of strategies were adopted depending on wider political considerations more than the objective conditions of Roma people. The most common aim was to assimilate Gypsies into majority national identities by integrating them as workers and citizens. This often led states to The
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Phot.: Schölvinck.
Konsul Richarz’ Hof.
Regelmäßig Ende Mai, bei Beginn der großen Hitze, pflegte Richarz seine Winterwohnung zu verlassen und auf „Sommerfrische“ zu ziehen. Der Umzug war nicht weit, bedeutete aber doch in seinem Leben einen jährlich wiederkehrenden wichtigen Abschnitt: Er begab sich einfach zwei Treppen tiefer in sein „Särdab“, einen Kühlraum, in den kein Sonnenstrahl drang. Hier unter der Erde verbrachte er den ganzen Sommer, und wer an den kleinen Luken des Särdab vorüber kam, konnte am hellichten Tage die himmlischen Akkorde von
Beethovens Mondscheinsonate aus der Kellertiefe herauftönen hören.
Bei dem Herrn des Hauses traf ich auch meinen prächtigen Freund von der deutschen Westfront Rittmeister Schölvinck, den Adjutanten des Herzogs. An der gemeinsamen Frühstückstafel auf der Veranda des Konsuls in der regenfrischen Morgenluft gab es so ein behagliches Plaudern; im Mittelpunkt der Unterhaltung standen natürlich der vor einer Woche gemeldete Fall von Kut-el-Amara und seine voraussichtlichen Folgen.
Später am Tage sah ich auch meinen lieben Reisekameraden Graf Wilamowitz wieder, der von seinem 800-Kilometerritt von Aleppo her mancherlei zu erzählen wußte. Und nachdem ich den Abend wieder in Konsul Richarz’ Salon verbracht hatte, fuhr ich im Auto des Herzogs nach Hause. Im Licht der blendenden Scheinwerfer hatten Bagdads enge Straßen ein phantastisches Aussehen; die gelben Lehmhäuser mit ihren kleinen, festen Straßentüren und die feierlichen Palmen, deren Federn über die Hofmauern blickten, glichen den Kulissen einer Bühne. Auf den noch nassen Straßen lungerten herrenlose Hunde herum, die den Rädern des Autos nur zögernd und unter grimmigem Knurren ihren angewärmten Schlafplatz preisgaben.
Bagdad.
Blick nach Südost In der Ferne der Tigris
Man hatte mir mittlerweile eine andere Wohnung zugewiesen. Das Haus, in das mich am Abend zuvor der Zufall geführt hatte, besaß ein Dr. Endrucks vom deutschen Etappenwesen in Mesopotamien. Er war seit fünf Jahren hier ansässig im Dienst der Bagdadbahn. Jetzt empfing mich ein großer Saal im Gebäude des Oberkommandos der 6. Armee. Seine ganze Einrichtung bestand aus einem Stuhl, einem Tisch, einer Badewanne und dem Feldbett; aber unter der Veranda floß der Tigris vorüber, und was diesem Raum seine Weihe gab, war das Andenken an den Feldmarschall, meinen großen Freund von der Goltz, der hier gewohnt hatte.
Moscheekuppel in Bagdad.
Zehntes Kapitel.
Bagdad einst und jetzt.
Der eigentliche Begründer der Abbassiden-Herrschaft war Abu Dschafar Abdallah al-Mansur. Er bestieg im Jahre 754 den Thron der Kalifen, der Nachfolger Mohammeds, und erwarb sich einen der berühmtesten Namen in der mohammedanischen Welt. Sein Reich war größer als das römische in seiner Glanzperiode; es erstreckte sich von Chorassan, Kandahar und dem Indus bis Aden, Algier und Kleinasien. Während die Omaijaden, die erste mohammedanische Kalifendynastie, ihre Residenz in Damaskus
hatten, verlegten die Abbassiden sie nach Babylonien. Während seiner ersten Regierungsjahre wohnte Mansur in Haschimija bei Kufa; zur Verherrlichung seines Namens aber beschloß er eine neue Hauptstadt zu gründen und wählte einen günstig gelegenen Punkt am rechten Ufer des Tigris. Dort lag ein kleiner, schon seit der babylonischen Zeit bekannter Ort, genannt Bagdad.
Im Frühjahr 762 begann die neue Kalifenstadt aus der Wüste emporzuwachsen. Prachtvolle Paläste und Moscheen, Regierungsgebäude und Festungswerke wurden errichtet, die Kanäle, die den Tigris mit dem Euphrat verbanden, wurden verbessert und Brücken über sie angelegt. Kaufleute, Handwerker und Kolonisten strömten herzu, zahllose Ziegelhäuser wurden gebaut, und bereits vier Jahre später war Bagdad eine Weltstadt, die größte in diesem Teil Asiens, und noch heute ist sie eine der bedeutendsten Städte im größten Sultanat des Islam. Im Jahre 768 war die Stadtmauer fertig. Die Hauptmasse der neuen Schöpfung lag auf dem rechten Ufer. Aber der Kalif ließ auch das linke Ufer bebauen, wohin sich heute der Schwerpunkt des heiligen Bagdad verlegt hat. Dort residierte sein Sohn und Nachfolger Mahdi.
Von der neuen Hauptstadt aus, die er Dar-es-Salaam, Stadt des Heils, oder Mansurije, Mansurs Stadt, nannte, leitete der Kalif mit eiserner Hand sein unermeßliches Reich. Er brachte Ordnung in die innere Verwaltung und erstickte grausam alle Aufruhrversuche. Für sich war er sparsam, aber für Bagdad opferte er unerhörte Reichtümer.
Dachterrasse beim Suk el-Gasl.
Den Beinamen al-Mansur (Almansor), der Siegreiche, trug er mit Recht. Er regierte mit rücksichtsloser Kraft und regierte selbst, nicht durch andere. Keiner seiner Nachfolger hat ihn an Herrschergaben übertroffen. Seinem Sohn gab er einmal den Rat: „Schlafe nicht; dein Vater hat auch nicht geschlafen, seit er das Kalifat errang. So oft auch der Schlaf seine Augen beschwerte, ist sein Geist doch wach geblieben.“ Er war von größter Mäßigkeit, nicht zum wenigsten in seinem Verhältnis zu Frauen; Wein trank er nie, und er duldete am Hof weder Gesang noch Musik, da beides zur Liederlichkeit verführe. Er konnte wie ein wildes Tier gegen Aufrührer und verdächtige Personen rasen, war aber mild und freundlich zu Kindern und Sklaven. Er wird als ein großer, magerer Mann
geschildert von hellbronzebrauner Gesichtsfarbe mit dünnem Bart und gilt als der größte arabische Redner. Die jährlichen Wallfahrten nach Mekka leitete er gern selbst, und auf solch einer Fahrt starb er, mehr als sechzig Jahre alt, am 7. Oktober 775 etwa eine Wegstunde von der heiligen Stadt entfernt, der Heimat seines Geschlechts; in ihrer Nähe liegt er auch begraben. Aber Bagdad ist das vornehmste Denkmal, das er sich errichtet hat.
Junge Türkin in Bagdad.
Mansurs Enkel Harun er-Raschid (der Gerechte) regierte dreiundzwanzig Jahre (786–809) und führte die Dynastie der Abbassiden auf die Höhe ihrer Macht. Das Reich blühte, doch mehr
dank der weisen Regierung des Großvaters, als dem eigenen Verdienst des Enkels. Als er 803 die persische Familie der Barmekiden, deren Macht er fürchtete, hatte ermorden lassen, fühlte er sich in Bagdad nicht mehr sicher und verlegte seine Residenz nach Rakka am Euphrat. Gemeinsame Interessen in Spanien und dem babylonischen Reich brachten ihn mit Karl dem Großen in Verbindung. So drang sein Ruhm auch nach Europa. Noch heute strahlt sein Name in seltenem Glanz, denn er war ein Beschützer der Kunst und der Wissenschaft, und Sagen und Legenden, vor allem die Märchen aus Tausendundeiner Nacht sichern ihm die Unsterblichkeit.
Brücke über den Tigris
Harun er-Raschids Sohn Mamun mußte Babylonien zurückerobern, da es durch Bürgerkriege verloren gegangen war, und residierte seitdem wieder in Bagdad. Sein Nachfolger und Bruder Mutasim (833–842) aber scheute die Nähe der aufrührerischen Perser und gründete als neue Residenz Samarra, das wir später besuchen werden. Er war es, der zur Niederwerfung von Aufständen türkische Söldnerscharen warb, die von da an zu immer mächtigerem Einfluß gelangten. Erst der Kalif Mutadid kehrte
891 wieder nach Bagdad zurück, das dann bis zum Untergang des Kalifats die Hauptstadt blieb.
Der Verfall des mächtigen Kalifenreichs begann schon in der zweiten Hälfte des 9. Jahrhunderts. Am 17. Januar 1258 wurde Bagdad von den Mongolen unter Dschingis-Chans Enkel Hulagu erobert, geplündert und niedergebrannt, dann aber wieder aufgebaut und zum Sitz eines Statthalters erhoben. Die Gräber der Abbassiden hatte Hulagu zerstören lassen, und auch ein anderes kostbares Kleinod, der Mantel des Propheten Mohammed, ging in diesen Kämpfen verloren.
Nach mehr als halbtausendjährigem Bestand war so die Macht des Kalifats vernichtet, und Bagdad war und blieb seitdem eine Provinzstadt. Später wurde es Residenz der Il-chaner, die das Mongolenreich für den Großchan verwalteten. Im Jahre 1401 stand der furchtbare Timur-Lenk, Tamerlan, vor seinen Toren; er nahm die Stadt im Sturm, plünderte und vernichtete alles außer den Moscheen, ließ die Bevölkerung niedermetzeln und baute Siegespyramiden aus 90000 Menschenschädeln.
Dann folgte eine Zeit wechselnder Kämpfe zwischen Tataren und Türken. Im Jahre 1534 nahm Sultan Suleiman die Stadt ohne Schwertstreich. 1623 wurde sie vom Schah von Persien, Abbas dem Großen, zurückerobert. Erst nach mehreren erfolglosen Vorstößen setzten sich die Türken in Bagdad wieder fest; 1638 belagerte Sultan Murad IV. an der Spitze eines gewaltigen Heeres die Stadt und erstürmte sie trotz ungeheurer Verluste. Er ließ alle Perser töten und das Tor zumauern, durch das er als Sieger seinen Einzug gehalten hatte.
Straße im Christenviertel von Bagdad
Im Jahre 1732 lag Nadir Schah, der Eroberer Indiens, acht Monate lang vergebens vor Bagdad, das der tapfere Ahmed Pascha hartnäckig verteidigte. Dann wurde es mehrmals von Wahhabiten und Muntefik-Arabern bedroht und genoß erst seit 1800 eine Zeit ziemlicher Ruhe, die jedoch öfters durch Pest, Überschwemmungen, Beduinenangriffe, Hungersnöte und Mißwirtschaft aller Art gestört wurde. Im Jahre 1837 berechnete man die Einwohnerzahl auf nur 40000. Midhat Pascha, der in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren
des vorigen Jahrhunderts Generalgouverneur war, brachte Ordnung in die Verwaltung und führte Bagdad zu neuer Blüte.
Dunkler Basartunnel
Da trat im Jahre 1917 zum erstenmal ein Volk des Okzidents auf den Schauplatz. Bagdad wurde von den Engländern erobert. Es gibt zwar naive Leute, die versichern, nunmehr werde die Furie des Krieges nie mehr über Mansurs Stadt dahinbrausen und Bagdad erst jetzt und für alle Zeiten mit Recht seinen Ehrennamen Dar-esSalaam, Stadt des Heils, des Friedens, führen. Aber ihre Stimmen sind wie Spreu vor dem Wind. Wenn der nächste Weltkrieg über die Erde stürmt, sind die Gräber dieser Propheten von heute vielleicht längst vergessen, und niemand fragt mehr nach ihrem Glauben. Englands Absicht, über Südpersien hinweg seine Verbindung mit Indien zu befestigen, kann nicht verwirklicht werden ohne einen
neuen Kampf auf Leben und Tod mit Deutschland und der Türkei, deren Ziele durch die Bagdadbahn festgelegt sind.
Was ich im vorigen Kapitel erzählte, war mein zweiter Einzug in die Stadt der Kalifen, die ehemals als Haupt eines mächtigen Reiches, als Wiege der Märchen aus Tausendundeiner Nacht so weltberühmt war und heute als Ziel deutschen Unternehmungsgeistes, als Knotenpunkt der Bagdadbahn nicht weniger in aller Munde ist. Dreißig lange Jahre vorher hatte ich ihr meinen ersten flüchtigen Besuch abgestattet. Wer hätte damals ahnen können, daß ich drei Jahrzehnte später zurückkehren würde zu einer Zeit, in der die Welt vom Steppenbrand des größten aller Kriege heimgesucht wurde! Damals war ich durch Persien von Buschehr aus mit dem großen englischen Fahrzeug „Assyria“ nach Basra und von dort mit dem Flußdampfer „Medschidije“ über Korna, Esras Grab, Amara, Kut-el-Amara, Ktesiphon und Seleucia nach Bagdad gekommen.
Am Abend des 4. Junis 1886 war die „Medschidije“ vor dem Zollgebäude vor Anker gegangen. Vom schmucken Haus des französischen Konsulats hatte die Trikolore geweht. Bei Sonnenaufgang war ich ans Land gerudert, und der alte englische Kaufmann Hilpern mit seiner ehrwürdigen Gattin — oder war ich damals nur so jung? — hatte mich mit ausgesuchter Gastfreundschaft aufgenommen. Drei nach indischer Art möblierte Zimmer standen mir zur Verfügung, und sein türkischer Sekretär Vabib Schika führte mich umher, so daß ich trotz der mörderischen Hitze und der verödeten und staubigen Straßen während des Ramasan alle Sehenswürdigkeiten Bagdads gründlich betrachten konnte. Wo mögen die Freunde von damals jetzt sein? Wahrscheinlich tot. Aber auf den Kreuzen des christlichen Friedhofs suchte ich ihre Namen vergeblich.
Jetzt wanderte in Bagdads Straßen ein neues Geschlecht, eine neue Generation. Die Kinder, die ich damals an den Ufern des Tigris spielen sah, standen jetzt in der Blüte ihrer Jahre, und wer damals die Mittagshöhe des Lebens erreicht hatte, beugte sich jetzt unter der Bürde des Alters.
Am Ufer des Tigris.
Ein Meheile fährt am Ufer entlang. In der Ferne das englische Konsulat.
Auch die Stadt hatte manche Veränderungen erfahren. Eigentlich war alles neu; denn auch die besseren Häuser hier halten sich selten mehr als fünfzig Jahre, da das Ziegelbrennen primitiv und schlecht geschieht. Im Winter setzen Regen, im Frühsommer Überschwemmungen des Tigris den Gebäuden arg zu. An Bauwerken, die mir vor dreißig Jahren bemerkenswert erschienen waren, standen noch das Minarett Suk-el-Gasl, Sobeïds Grab, eine alte Karawanserei im Basar und das Missionshaus der
französischen Väter Unter den neuen am Ufer des Flusses fielen jetzt vor allen die Gebäude auf, die zur Bagdadbahn gehörten; dann das neue englische Konsulat, das schönste Bauwerk der Stadt, das offenbar dazu ausersehen ist, einen mächtigen Eindruck auf die umwohnenden Araber und die nach Kerbela und Nedschef wallfahrenden Perser zu machen. Die alte Schiffbrücke war noch ganz wie früher. Aber die Wasserräder waren aus der Nähe der Stadt verschwunden und durch Motore ersetzt, die in ihre asiatische Umgebung gar nicht hineinpaßten.
Am linken Tigrisufer
Der Hauptteil Bagdads liegt auf dem linken Tigrisufer. Die vornehmsten Häuser, darunter alle Konsulate, stehen unmittelbar am Wasser; unter ihren langen, offenen Veranden flutet der lautlos dahingleitende Strom. Nur das englische Konsulat ist durch einen
schmalen Hof von seinem Kai und seiner Landungstreppe getrennt. Seit der Bau der Bagdadbahn begann, wuchsen auch am rechten Ufer Neubauten empor, und wahrscheinlich wird sich der Schwerpunkt Bagdads in Zukunft dorthin verschieben. Der Strom durchflutet die Stadt von Nordwesten nach Südosten, das rechte Ufer hat daher während der heißesten Stunden des Tages Schatten, während die Veranden des linken Ufers fast immer in praller Sonne liegen.
Wenn abends die wagerechten Strahlen der untergehenden Sonne das Gewirr von Bagdads grauen Häusern purpurn färben, und die Stämme der Palmen unter dem Gewölbe der Blattkronen feuerrot leuchten, scheint das wie ein Abglanz all der Herrlichkeit, die einst Mansurs Stadt umgab; man lebt aufs neue in den Märchen aus Tausendundeiner Nacht, denkt der wunderbaren Reisen des Seefahrers Sindbad und der Lieder, die die Dichter zu ihrer Ehre sangen, und glaubt das alte Bagdad zu seinen Füßen zu sehen, das Herz des weiten Kalifenreiches, dem Karawanen von Osten und Westen zuströmten und dessen Gassen Harun er-Raschid verkleidet mit seinem Wesir Dschafar durchwanderte, um den Reden des Volks zu lauschen und seine Wünsche zu erforschen. Aber dann geht die Sonne unter, der Glanz verlischt, Hausdächer, Kuppeln und Minarette erhalten wieder ihren gleichmäßigen schmutzigen Farbenton, und die Kronen der Palmen ballen sich zu dunklen Wolken über der Stadt zusammen. Das ist die Gegenwart — dies Häuflein Steine ist der dürftige Rest, der noch von der Stadt der Märchen übrigblieb! Man mag im Staub nach Spuren des Alten suchen, nach vergessenen Erinnerungen an die Zeit der Kalifen vergebens! Nichts als Zerstörung! Eingeborene sammeln und verkaufen Antiquitäten, aber zu erzählen wissen sie nichts mehr. Man wartet geradezu darauf, daß irgendetwas eintrete, was an die Vergangenheit erinnert — vergebens! Bagdad liegt öde da in schläfrigem Traum am Ufer des Tigris. Was man hört sind nur die Mächte der Zerstörung, die niemals müde werden, Menschenwerk zu vernichten.
Auch die Menschen selbst tragen zum Verderben bei. In Bagdad gibt es nur noch wenig zu zerstören, aber selbst dies wenige ist dem
Untergang verfallen. Die türkischen Gouverneure scheinen von unersättlichem Bedürfnis nach Stadtregulierungen besessen zu sein. Durch die alten Städte Babyloniens werden breite, gerade Straßen gezogen, die alles, was im Wege steht, dem Boden gleich machen. So auch in Bagdad. Mit welchem Eifer wurden die Häuser niedergerissen, als für die nach Halil Pascha genannte Straße Platz geschafft wurde! Es war lebensgefährlich, in die Nähe zu kommen, und mächtige Wolken Kalkstaub verkündeten schon aus der Ferne die häßliche Zerstörung. Wenn man wenigstens neue Häuser an Stelle der alten gebaut hätte! Aber damit hatte man keine Eile. Wie die neuen Straßen in Aleppo und Mosul sah auch diese aus: als hätte ein Erdbeben ihr Bahn gebrochen. Es war gewiß nicht viel damit verloren, und besonders die Straße Halil Paschas hatte des Ortsverkehrs wegen ihre Berechtigung. Aber die engen Straßen sind einer der charakteristischsten Züge Bagdads; sie sind absichtlich wie schmale Korridore angelegt, nicht aus einem Bedürfnis des engeren Zusammenwohnens, sondern um die Sonne auszuschließen und Gänge zu schaffen, wo der Schatten bleibt und die kühle Luft nicht durch jeden Windzug wieder vertrieben wird. Diese Bauart hat natürlich auch den Nachteil, daß der Regen im Winter und das Überschwemmungswasser im Frühjahr schwer trocknen und einen furchtbaren Morast verursachen.
Die Hauptstraße von Bagdad mit Halil Paschas Haus (links).
Enge Gasse im Christenviertel.
Der sonst so kluge Midhat Pascha ließ die alte Stadtmauer aus der Zeit der Kalifen, eines der vornehmsten Denkmäler Bagdads, niederreißen, weil eine moderne Stadt in ihrer Entwicklung durch eine Mauer gehindert werde. Als ob neue Stadtteile nicht, wie in Jerusalem, außerhalb angelegt werden könnten! Von altersher war diese alte Mauer der beste Schutz gegen Überschwemmungen; seitdem sie beseitigt ist, liegen mehrere Teile der Stadt offen da. Im Winter 1914 wurde Bagdad von einer ganz unerwarteten Überschwemmung heimgesucht, denn der Strom steigt sonst nur im Frühjahr; der Stadtteil Bab-esch-Scheik stand metertief unter
Wasser, ganze Straßen fielen in Trümmer und lagen verlassen da, darunter die Straße, die nach Abd-el-Kaders stattlicher Grabmoschee führt, und man fuhr durch die Stadt auf Kähnen, wie in Venedig. Diesmal hatte die Überschwemmung zwar die Stadt selbst verschont, aber die Felder nordöstlich davon in einen uferlosen See verwandelt und dadurch die Heerstraße über Bakuba nach Chanikin und Persien abgeschnitten, so daß man die Truppennachschübe auf Fähren und Flößen, Booten und Guffas über die weite Strecke seichten und sumpfigen Wassers bringen mußte. Von Bagdads Stadtmauer sind heute nur noch unbedeutende Fragmente übrig, darunter die festen Türme an den alten Toren Bab-esch-Schergi, dem Osttor, Bab-el-Gherbi, dem Westtor, Bab-el-Bastani, dem Mitteltor, und Bab-el-Talesm, dem Talismantor, das von einem der alten Abbassiden-Kalifen zu Anfang des 13. Jahrhunderts stammt.
Bagdad hat sechs christliche Kirchen: die chaldäische — die vornehmste und zugleich Kathedrale —, die syrische, die lateinische, die jakobitische, die armenisch-katholische und die armenischorthodoxe.
Phot : Schölvinck
Bab-el-Talesm, eines der alten Stadttore von Bagdad
Die Kathedrale führt den Namen „Die sieben Schmerzen“ oder „Mater dolorosa“. Der Gottesdienst wird in chaldäischer, nicht in lateinischer Sprache abgehalten. Die Gemeinde muß ziemlich vermögend sein, denn der Priester, der mich herumführte, berichtete, der Bau der Kirche, der 1898 vollendet wurde, habe 16000 türkische Pfund gekostet; für eine Kathedrale ist das nicht viel, wohl aber für eine kleine Gemeinde in dem abgelegenen Bagdad. Ein Prachtbau konnte dafür nicht geschaffen werden; sowohl innen wie außen ist die Kathedrale einfach und anspruchslos. Die alte chaldäische Kirche aus dem Jahr 1843, die ich 1886 besuchte, ist jetzt eine Schule. Beide sind durch einen kleinen, mit Ziegeln gepflasterten Hof getrennt. Von außen fallen sie ebensowenig auf wie die übrigen Kirchen; sie liegen alle in dem am dichtesten bebauten Stadtteil, wo die Straßen so eng wie Korridore sind.
