In the midst of the global and the local: Neo-Ottoman detectives of Filinta

Significance of the Ottoman past for TV genres

In the course of investigating the hybrids that appear in popular culture and the consumption of history in the pursuit of leisure, Jerome de Groot argues that ‘[h]ow a society consumes its history is crucial to the understanding of contemporary popular culture, the issues at stake in representation itself, and the various means of self- or social construction available’ (de Groot, 2016: 2). Turkey’s relationship with its past has always been problematic. As Yael Navaro Yashin remarks, in the early days of the Turkish Republic, it was essential to describe what was culturally native to the newly established nation. Despite the fact that Turkey was founded following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, the Ottoman heritage was marginalised by breaking the temporal continuity between the past and the present (Yashin, 2002: 11). The narrative of the newly established republic created a disconnection with the recent past to promote a new national identity. As Tanıl Bora explains, exclusion of Islam from the narrative, together with the dismissal of the Ottoman heritage, undermined national identity (Bora, 1996: 185–186). For that reason, Turkish national identity was not only built on ambivalence but also the conception and narration of the past was influenced by this ambivalence.

Drawing on the studies of Ernest Renan, Enno Maessen underlines the significance of national amnesia, in other words, selective usage of memories in creating solidarity within the nation, and finds traces of this tendency in the nation building processes in Turkey’s distant and recent past (Maessen, 2014: 311). This mediation of history opens the floor to various interpretations of the national narrative, shaping the past in its many forms by filling the gaps with personal, social and political intentions. As Enno Maessen argues, it is not only the symbols of Kemalism (the national ideology named after the founder of the Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk) that have been reinterpreted and commodified especially in the 1990s in Turkey, but also the Ottoman past, which has been differently conceptualised by various groups including leftists, intellectuals and pious conservatives (2014).

In her comprehensive study on the rising neo-Ottomanism in Turkey, Nagehan Tokdoğan explains that the governing party in Turkey since 2002, AKP, embraced the neo-Ottomanist discourse vigorously in the 2000s in an attempt to redesign Turkish national identity. What makes the neo-Ottomanist discourse embraced by the AKP in this period distinctive is the exceptional leaning on the societal dimension by making the markers of the Ottoman past mundane and ordinary (Tokdoğan, 2018: 74–75). Parallel to the ‘new’ Turkey discourse, which happens to be a distinctive critic of the ‘old’ republican Turkey, the AKP’s neo-Ottomanism promises the mending of the interrupted relations between society and the state (Tokdoğan, 2018: 82–83). Media became a powerful device for disseminating the banal markers of neo-Ottomanism during that period. Tokdoğan underlines that especially in 2010 and onwards, the Ottoman symbols and motifs constantly circulate on various platforms including TV dramas as a reminder of the past (Tokdoğan, 2018: 91).

Alexander Dhoest states that local television content is not simply a reflection of the societies that it is produced in but also relies on national specificities to construct its imaginaries, simultaneously becoming a part of that imaginary in the process (Dhoest, 2007: 61). In a similar manner, as they build their iconography on the markers of the Ottoman past, Turkish TV dramas appropriate the rising neo-Ottomanism in Turkey while continuously reproducing the past in the present in accordance with their ideological positioning. This positioning leads such series to be easily associated with contemporary political conflicts due to the dominance of national markers in their narratives.

For instance, in his study of a contemporary historical drama, Payitaht: Abdulhamid [The Last Emperor] (2017–present), which is broadcasted on TRT, Emre Can Dağlıoğlu finds various references to current political affairs in the narrative of the series. He explains that instead of depicting the historical period of Sultan Abdulhamid the Second, the series is much more interested in responding to critiques that are addressed to the existing government. Apart from showing current political issues in an ‘as if it happened in the Ottoman past’ scenario, the series depicts Sultan Abdulhamid the Second more like a politician that travelled to the past from the present (Dağlıoğlu, 2019: 49). Dağlıoğlu’s argument about the series does not only support what Çetin (2014) meant by ‘the politicization of TV dramas’, but also exemplify TRT’s continuous vulnerability to governmental interventions. However, it should be noted that such intervention does not only happen on state-run TRT but also extends to other dimensions of making television in contemporary Turkey, mainly resulting in auto-censorship (Tüzün, 2016: 32).

However, the neo-Ottomanist symbols and motifs that are reflected in Turkish TV dramas could be approached not only to simultaneously remember and reproduce the past but also as a strategy to localise global generic formulas. In this localisation process, the choice of genre harmonised with neo-Ottomanist iconography becomes an important factor in determining the signification of national markers in the local context. For instance, as Selin Tüzün and Aygün Şen explain, by revolving around intrigues, conspiracies, secrets and envies, Muhteşem Yüzyıl brings the elements of soap opera together with costume drama and action (Tüzün and Şen, 2014: 188). In this way, instead of telling a heroic tale of the Ottoman Empire, the series follows a soap opera plot in a historically familiar setting and becomes ‘a provocative text’ which associates the essence of the Ottoman dynasty with the non-Muslim handmaidens in harem (Tekelioğlu, 2017: 60).

Alternatively, the political ambitions of Diriliş: Ertuğrul could be considered as completely different from Muhteşem Yüzyıl. As Burak Özçetin explains, despite the limited information about Ertuğrul Bey and Süleyman Shah in history, Diriliş: Ertuğrul offers a comprehensive portrayal of both historical figures as well as the members of the Kayı tribe without caring much about historical accuracy, creating a ‘Turkish-Islamic fantasy’ which is aligned with the political discourse of the AKP (Özçetin, 2019: 6). In order to build these kinds of connections, instead of mainly following the soap opera formula, the series is based more on fantasy and action with the intention of creating a heroic saga which is told in a melodramatic and romanticised manner to proliferate nationalist feelings.

The ritualistic dimension of genres, which allows negotiation of cultural norms and values (Feuer, 1987: 109), could be considered as instrumental in the localisation of global generic formulas in the Turkish context. By becoming a mediator of the ‘new’ national markers of Turkish identity, the Ottoman iconography constantly points at the national in the narratives of Turkish TV dramas. The ‘new’ national markers of neo-Ottomanism are not only recognised at the local level in relation to the contemporary political discourse, but also negotiated by conflicting parties with the help of the ritualistic experience that genres offer to audiences. Global generic formulas become localised through this negotiation process by mediating local sensations and disputes.

By being localised in this way, Turkish TV dramas that combine the global generic formulas with Ottoman iconography become familiar and affective for the domestic audiences. However, the same combination could also make these TV dramas relevant and appealing on the global television scene because of the recurrent reliance on generic formulas (Bielby and Harrington, 2008: 85). According to Bilge Yesil, nowadays the imbalance and uncertainty in the home market has led TV producers in Turkey to globalise to secure profit, believing that their TV dramas could be cancelled in Turkey due to unforeseen reasons but would still have a chance in other markets if they are also produced for global audiences. That impulse has led producers to create TV dramas with universal themes (Yesil, 2015: 52).

As confirmation of this, Muhteşem Yüzyıl’s costume designer, Serdar Başbuğ, explains that instead of depicting classical Ottoman scenery, the production company mainly intended to create a stylish setting which would be appealing to the eye (Tüzün and Sen, 2014: 185). What was essentially significant in Muhteşem Yüzyıl, according to Star TV’s Programming Department Executive Büke Ürküt, was attracting the audience’s attention via high production values which could be perceived as a general strategy of Turkish producers in creating local drama with global ambitions. This strategy is evidenced by luxurious cars, houses and chic costumes, all of which helped, according to Managing Director of ITV-Inter Medya, Ahmet Ziyalar to increase worldwide sales of Turkish TV dramas (Tüzün and Sen 2014: 185–186). For Tüzün and Sen, all these initiatives come together in the production of Muhteşem Yüzyıl and reflect an imaginary sense of luxury and magnificence which turns ‘historical objects’ into ‘objects of consumption’ and diversifies the representations of the Ottoman heritage in everyday life (Tüzün and Sen, 2014: 187–188).

Turning history into a spectacle for economic reasons could not be considered a new strategy in the context of TRT. At the beginning of the 1990s, when the competition between the newly established private TV channels and TRT was cut-throat, TRT continued to invest in locally produced content and historical dramas. As Çankaya underlines, in these years of transformation, TRT once again attached importance to big budget productions. In 1991, a film studio was built in a small town near Istanbul and used to produce a grand historical mini-series entitled Kurtuluş [Independence] (1994) which explained the establishment of Turkish Republic between the years of 1921 and 1923. The series, which was one of the most extensive productions that had been ever made in Turkey (Çankaya, 2015: 302–304), turned history into a great televisual spectacle. Despite having ideologically different motivations, a similar kind of economic strategy could be found behind TRT’s production of big budget historical dramas nowadays. The TRT general director, İbrahim Eren, states that as of 2016 TRT earned 70 million Turkish Lira from exports, which mainly consist of historical dramas (Anadolu Ajansı, 2017).

Focusing on contemporary TV dramas such as Ripper Street and Copper, Claire Meldrum states that ‘[t]he recent revival in Victoriana in film and television is one that offers an interesting insight into how contemporary culture views both its past and its own present experiences’ (Meldrum, 2015: 202). The combination of the Ottoman iconography with global generic formulas in Turkish TV dramas offers a similar kind of insight and could be associated in different contexts with various intentions. Whereas the local meanings that are attached to the historical discourse of the series help them localise global generic formulas in the Turkish context, the same touch of Ottoman history offers an alluring picture of a luxurious and interesting lifestyle in a period far away. Both interpretations turn the Ottoman past into a highly significant item in this interplay between the global and the local.

The Ottoman detectives of Filinta

Filinta was first broadcast by TRT in December 2014, and continued for 56 episodes, ending in 2016. Each episode revolves around the adventures of the police force in the Galata district of Istanbul in the second half of the 19th century. The main character Mustafa (Onur Tuna) works side by side with his childhood friend Ali (Cem Uçan) under the leadership of the Islamic judge, Qadi Gıyasedding Hatemi (Mehmet Özgür). The team is regularly helped by the ‘unofficial’ forensic examiner, Abdullah (Kamil Güler), who has a secret laboratory behind his photography shop in the Pera district of Istanbul.

Both Mustafa and Ali were abandoned by their families. They took refuge under Gıyaseddin’s wings and are brought up inspired by his moral standing based on the rules of the Koran. Gıyaseddin is the moral compass of the series arc because he cannot be bent under any circumstances. Apart from actively conducting the investigations, he also serves as a judge in the trials, combining the functions of both law and order. In the trials, after examining the evidence and hearing the testimonies of the witnesses, he comes to a verdict based on the rules that are written in Islamic law. He usually finds peace and wisdom in prayer. Under difficult circumstances, he is seen talking to Allah, asking for help and guidance. When Gıyaseddin is gunned down at the end of the first season, the empty place left by him is never filled for Mustafa and Ali.

In each episode, the characters are seen struggling against the crimes that are conducted by the same enemies. Boris Zaharyas (Serhat Tutumluer) is usually the mastermind behind everything. However, Zaharyas works with international power groups that are willing to destroy the Ottoman Empire by creating several conspiracies. The Masonic Council, which is managed by a serene highness called Kenan Miloş (Suavi Eren), is depicted as operating various forces, including Zaharyas, as well as a group named as ‘the fellowship organization’. By placing their members inside the institutions of the Ottoman Empire, the Council aims to take the empire under its control. Therefore, the investigations that Mustafa, Ali and Gıyaseddin deal with frequently involve not only catching the criminals but also saving the empire. The threat is never completely eliminated, even at the end of the episode.

The Ottoman past shows itself in many different faces in Filinta. On the one hand, especially in the first season, the series localises the global police procedural formula by focusing on what the Ottoman past represents in the contemporary Turkish context. On the other hand, by combining the historical depiction of how the police work is conducted in the past and showcasing Istanbul as a historical tourist destination, the series follows a global trend in genre formation which could be seen as an opportunity to be more visible in the global television scene.

Localising the police procedural genre in Filinta

The generic conventions of the police procedural genre allow Filinta to create an instant familiarity to a global audience. However, the series simultaneously localises these conventions by relying on Ottoman imaginary and the ideological significance of the Ottoman Empire in the Turkish context. Stuart M. Kaminsky et al. (1985), cataloguing the conventions of the police procedural genre, argue that protagonists appear as devoted, streetwise men from the lower middle class who risk everything to restore order in society, usually inhabiting a junglelike city and working side-by-side with fellow police officers to fight against crime.

Conforming to these conventions, Filinta’s Mustafa and Ali appear as uniformed, lower middle-class police detectives, trying to make ends meet and working under the command of Gıyaseddin together with other lower ranked police officers in the Galata precinct as a team. Istanbul is depicted as a vibrant, cosmopolitan, urban setting where crime is rife. The streets of this old Istanbul crawl with various kinds of people. The diversity of social, religious and occupational backgrounds is shown through the variety of costumes. For instance, whereas some men are depicted as wearing fez or turbans over their suits some others wear melon hats. In a similar manner, covered and uncovered women are seen sharing the same public space side by side.

The law and order rhetoric, which could be considered as the foundation of police procedural genre’s ambition to emphasise the struggle between the right and the wrong (Pethick, 2012: 7–8) in a conservative manner, constitutes the basis of each episode of the series, especially in the first season. In the black and white universe of Filinta, Mustafa, Ali and Gıyaseddin maintain order by relying on the Islamic law as it is written in the Koran. In this universe, the opposing sides are strictly polarised. Whereas the true believers and followers of Allah are always right, the ones who desert Allah’s path are always wrong. Besides, since the law and order rhetoric of the series relies on the justice and fairness of Allah the punishment does not complete in the mortal world but also continues in the presence of Allah in the afterlife. Gıyaseddin is frequently seen as commenting on the ideology behind the law and order rhetoric of the series and points at Allah as the only being that is fair and just. He usually states that local courts, or mayor’s court, could punish the criminals for petty crimes, but the crimes that are overlooked in this world are going to be punished by Allah. In this way, in Filinta, there is no place left for doubt concerning the punishment of the criminals.

Apart from an Islamic worldview, the Ottoman imaginary carries great significance in localising the police procedural genre in the series. In a general sense, the series glorifies the culture and values of the Ottoman Empire as virtues that are lost in contemporary Turkey. By using the law and order rhetoric of the police procedural genre, the series aspires to build a political discourse about the reasons behind the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the role that external as well as internal forces played in this event. In this way, similar to Turkish TV dramas such as Diriliş: Ertuğrul and Payitaht: Abdulhamid, in pointing at the past, the series aims to create a direct connection with the political rhetoric of the current Turkish government.

Transmitted by the public broadcaster, TRT, Filinta was seen as an extension of the Turkish government’s nation building process from the beginning. The extremely big budget allocated to the series could be seen as a marker of governmental support. The deputies of the main opposition party, Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi (CHP), brought this issue forward in several occasions. In 2015, CHP Istanbul Deputy Umut Oran claimed that TRT paid 5 million dollars to the production company of the series ( Radikal, 2015). The next year, CHP Niğde Deputy Ömer Fethi Gürer officially demanded TRT to be transparent about the budget that is allocated for Filinta. The inquiry revealed that the production company was paid 57 million Turkish Liras for the two seasons (T24, 2016), an exceptionally large amount for a Turkish production at the time. Along with this, in a very symbolic manner to show governmental support, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan was seen visiting the set of Filinta and sitting in the director’s chair (Medyafaresi, 2015).

As part of the nation building process of the AKP government, Ottoman iconography is used in the series to redefine the narrative of the nation and point at the Ottoman Empire as the true origin of the Turks. The culture, values and vision of the Ottoman Empire is glorified in the series at every opportunity. The emphasis that is put on educating young pupils, the technological and scientific discoveries that are made by the Ottoman geniuses, the welfare network that is operated by the Ottoman bureaucracy as well as the tolerance to cultural and religious diversity, are shown to underline the power and the magnificence of the Ottoman Empire in an exhibitionist manner. With all these markers underlining the greatness of the Ottoman Empire, Filinta aims to redefine the past by telling a heroic story with a nationalistic flavour.

Additionally, the subtle connections that are established between the fictive conflicts in Filinta and real-life political disputes in contemporary Turkey build a historical and sentimental continuity that points to a timeless national legacy. Together with the ‘us’ and ‘them’ dynamic that shapes almost every episode of the series, the Ottoman iconography indicates the persistence of the ‘new’ national markers which are loaded with contesting meanings in the narrative and allows the localisation of the police procedural genre in the Turkish context both at a visual and discursive level. Consequently, Filinta provides direct evidence of how the Ottoman past is used in popular culture as a way of responding to contemporary and conflicting definitions of the national narrative.

Globalising Filinta’s Ottoman detectives

The Ottoman heritage, which appears as a highly significant factor in localising the police procedural genre in the Turkish context, could also be seen as a particular asset to be offered to global audiences. While discussing the transnational aesthetics of BBC’s costume drama/police procedural, Ripper Street, Elke Weissmann states that the images of the past that are reflected from popular costume dramas like Downton Abbey (2010–2015) and Pride and Prejudice (1995), are constructed as ‘transnational commodities’, offering a touristic portrayal of Britain (Weissmann, 2014: 5). Filinta’s depiction of the Ottoman past could be considered in a similar framework. Even before being broadcast, the transnational production team behind Filinta was heavily promoted and connoted as a marker of high production values. Bobby Roth, famous for his work in TV series such as Revenge (2011–2015), Prison Break (2005–2009 ) and Lost (2004–2010), was frequently mentioned as the consultant. The team that was responsible for the action scenes was announced as coming from ‘Hollywood’. The stunt team was led by Dusan Hyska, popular for his work in films like Spider-Man (2002) and Saving Private Ryan (1998) and promoted as being behind training the actors for the fight scenes. Apart from these, the contribution of the make-up artist, David Craig Forrest, who worked in films such as Charlie’s Angels (2000), and Basic Instinct (1992), is particularly noteworthy (Daily Sabah, 2015).

All these names, which are associated with Hollywood, contributed to the promotion of the series as going beyond the achievable in production in the Turkish context (Yeniden Haber, 2016). It was taken as a victorious sign that the television industry in Turkey could finally compete with American and European productions in terms of value, expressing the fulfilment of the desire to become a major player in the global television market. Emphasising the global ambitions of the series, the general coordinator of Filinta, Mehmet Çoban, stated that the target audience of Filinta is not only limited to Turkey and the Middle East. He particularly noted that Filinta is willing to tell a story that would reach to Europe and the rest of the world, and in order to address target audience, the producers try to focus on telling stories with universal themes which would be accessible to people from different religions and cultures. Çoban also underlined the role of ‘police procedural’ as a genre in attracting buyers from Europe, since this genre has a potential marketability in this region (Gönül Kültür ve Medeniyet Dergisi, 2015).

In the case of Filinta, apart from the police procedural genre, ‘Ottomanness’ is marketable both in the local and the global context in a way that has parallels with the case of British costume drama. De Groot explains that, especially in the 1990s, the rising popularity and budgets of costume dramas created an urge to construct a marketable form of ‘Britishness’, supporting their spread to overseas, being broadcasted in umbrella titles and sold in DVD sets. For de Groot, this spread caused the detachment of the costume dramas from their original television contexts and national origins, being reduced to caricatures of Britishness and a marketable form of national identity (de Groot, 2016: 185).

Filinta offers a similar kind of marketable national identity based on the ‘new’ national markers of Turkey. Mehmet Çoban explained that the main intention in the series was not to give a particular message but make a comparison between the past and the present (Gönül Kültür ve Medeniyet Dergisi, 2015). He underlined that there are a lot of things that Turkish people do not know about the Ottoman past, including the everyday life, the sense of justice and the trade relations. This includes shaping the good and the evil characters in such a way that would correspond to contemporary types. Çoban underlined that their main intention was to depict the life at the Ottoman Empire truthfully. He stated that they did not intend to glorify the Ottoman Empire, because showing ‘how it actually was’ was enough to illustrate its grandiose nature. For him, achieving this requires an effort to hold on to the realities of the Ottoman past, to narrate the ‘true’ version of the history in a fictionalised manner and not to ‘over’ fictionalise (2015).

The accuracy that Çoban emphasises in the interview has an undertone that amplifies a neo-Ottomanist version of history, which reimagines and reproduces the past from an ideological standpoint. So, the portion of fictionalisation that Çoban admits to, the drive to tell an everlasting story based on binary oppositions of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and the willingness to focus on universal themes that would be common for all religions, could not only exemplify the idea of timelessness and continuity attributed to the Ottoman Empire but also show strategies that are adopted in creating a television content with global ambitions. Instead of creating a historically nuanced depiction of the Ottoman past, the series draws a portrait of the period which would not require an audience to have prior knowledge of that history to follow the events, but places the global audiences in an imaginary location. Conveniently, throughout the first season, every episode of the series starts with the disclaimer that the audiences are about to see police stories which have nothing to do with the real historical figures and events. In this way, Filinta does not only emphasise the genre of the series but also that to follow the narrative the audiences do not need prior knowledge of the history.

The sort of touristic time travel that Filinta offers to the Ottoman period is supported by the association of the series with tourist attractions, promoted on different platforms with the intention of emphasising Turkey’s Ottoman heritage in a certain way. In the May 2015 issue of Global Connection which is devoted to tourism, Filinta is addressed as ‘the first Ottoman crime drama’ and listed among the national attractions that you could find as a tourist in Turkey. The promotion of the series particularly focuses on the setting of the series in ‘the most westernised part of Istanbul at the time. It was one of the first places in Turkey to have telephone lines, electricity, trams, a municipal government and even an underground railway’ ( Global Connection, 2015).

However, the promotion does not only concentrate on the alluring images from the Ottoman past that the series promises to the audiences but also mentions ‘the largest sets ever built in Europe for the show’ ( Global Connection, 2015) which is commissioned by TRT and open to the use of production houses around the globe. Additionally, apart from being heavily publicised in the promotion film in 2015 in Mipcom (the annual trade market which is devoted to global media and entertainment industry) when Turkey was selected as the country of honour (Yıldız, 2015), at the time it was broadcast Filinta was included in the inflight entertainment of Turkish Airlines.

Eylem Yanardağoğlu explained that since the ‘coincidental’ popularity of Turkish soap operas in the Middle East in 2008, Istanbul has been visited by more and more tourists from this region. Istanbul has turned into a place which fulfils fantasies of Arab audiences and the polished images of the city that are shown in Turkish TV dramas have contributed to its reconstruction as this fantasised location (Yanardağoğlu, 2014: 60). Filinta fuels this image of Istanbul by mediating the historical markers of the Ottoman Empire to appeal to global audiences. The series conveniently chose Galata district, a well-known historical neighbourhood and a tourist destination in Istanbul, as its main setting, showing off the Ottoman ships anchored in the waterside of Karaköy as well as the Galata Tower in its glory. The historical peninsula with the images of Topkapı Palace and Hagia Sophia are also shown in the establishing shots as a part of the main attraction. In this way, Filinta does not only point at the Ottoman Empire as the national heritage of Turkey but also intends to offer something appealing to the global audiences in an almost exhibitionist manner.

Conclusion

Depending on genre, the Ottoman past shows itself in many different shapes in the narratives of Turkish TV dramas, derived from being the setting of intriguing love stories in popular soap operas or heroic tales of nationalistic action series. The combination of universal themes and genre conventions, together with the local significations of the Ottoman heritage, allows us to examine these TV dramas by positioning them in the intersection of the local and the global.

The rising neo-Ottomanist values promoted by the AKP government since the 2000s to define the ‘new’ narrative of the nation have been taken as a major influence on the meanings that are attached to the Ottoman past in the Turkish TV dramas in the local context. By being frequently related to the current debates that preoccupy the Turkish political discourse, Turkish TV dramas that choose the Ottoman Empire as their setting have become substantial mediators, disseminating the AKP’s political agenda. This close affinity has contributed to the localisation of the global generic conventions in the Turkish context by generating locally significant meanings.

As a hybrid of historical drama and police procedural, Filinta has become a significant example of these intersecting dynamics in the local and the global contexts. Where it uses Islamic rules and values to localise the law and order rhetoric of the police procedurals, the various significations of the Ottoman past allows Filinta to build a connection with the ‘new’ national narrative of Turkey, creating an additional level of familiarity for local audiences. Alternatively, the global ambitions of the series’ makers, together with the guarantee of quality provided by the transnational production team, ensure that the depiction of the Ottoman past is at the same time ahistorical, almost a touristic attraction to audiences worldwide.

Consequently, as the examination of the text and context of Filinta shows, apart from being a mediator of conflicting debates in real life politics, the representation of Ottoman heritage in Turkish TV dramas could be approached as an intersecting point of local and global dynamics, contributing to localise global genres and to make them appealing in the global television scene at the same time. Further research could be conducted by focusing on the audience reception of Filinta both at the local and global level to understand additional meanings that are attached to the usage of the Ottoman past in different contexts.