Istanbul — How much can a historic city of the world change in a decade? Many aspects of Delhi, where I’ve lived most of my life, are almost unrecognisable from 2002: a large metro network, reduced pollution levels and construction activity on an unprecedented scale. Istanbul, where I spent a few days this week after ten years, is glowing with far greater good health. A decade ago as Tansu Ciller, Turkey’s only woman prime minister, faded into oblivion the economy was in dire straits. The Turkish lira was falling so fast that shops were shutting down before your eyes; in Istanbul I recall retailers virtually handing out goods at way below cost price. Today, at about 2.2 TL to the euro, the currency is strong — and, compared to Greece, Turkey’s basket case neighbour and old adversary, the economy is booming. It is no longer an inexpensive city. Thirty billionaires, supposedly the fifth-highest number among big cities of the world, contribute to Istanbul’s tax revenues.
I was admiring the neat wads of fresh green turf being laid out in islands between the Blue Mosque and Aya Sofya in the city’s pedestrianised historic centre of Sultanahmet when a Turkish friend brought me up short. “They won’t let natural grass grow and keep changing the turf. You bet someone in local government is making money from the greening contracts.” Outspoken Istanbullus complain non-stop about high corruption (just like Delhi’s citizens) but there is no denying the new prosperity, smooth infrastructure and energetic efficiency of a city of 14 million that hosts more than seven million tourists a year. It was declared Europe’s Capital of Culture in 2010 and is bidding for the summer Olympics in 2020.
Compare this to Delhi, larger, more densely populated and in many ways a worthy competitor in its combination of antiquity and feel-good contemporary buzz, high culture, cuisine and happening suburbs. But Delhi can’t remove mountains of garbage at street corners, is unable to clean the riverfront, struggles to get the Commonwealth Games going and is lucky to host two million tourists annually.
There were plenty of vendors and peddlers at Istanbul’s main sights, even the odd beggar, but I noticed a difference from my last visit: almost all were relatively well clothed and not one was underage. Despite an ongoing influx of rural migrants from poorer parts of eastern Turkey, it is an achievement of the city administration to ensure that children are where they should be — in schools, not on the streets.
Istanbul’s greatest asset is its mesmerising geographic location on the Bosphorus, the 30 km strait that links the Mediterranean to the Black Sea on the cusp of Europe and Asia. From the inexpensive municipal ferry that plies back and forth, stopping to pick up fresh yoghurt on the Asian shore, the parade of vessels is huge — toy sailboats, seven-storey luxury cruisers and gigantic oil tankers. Two hundred million tonnes of oil pass through this stretch of water a year, and informed locals warn of environmental damage, caused by the building boom. To Indian eyes, however, it all looks astonishingly clean, and the densely-forested slopes well preserved.
Much of the credit for turning the city’s — indeed the country’s —fortunes around goes to its former mayor Recep Tayyip Erdogan, who has been prime minister since 2003. The reformist but controlling Erdogan, whose party goes on winning election after election with increased vote share, is a charismatic pragmatist: conservative in his Islamic outlook, progressive in strengthening the economy and foreign relations. His poor record on press freedom and human rights is a stumbling block for Turkey joining the EU and the conflict in Syria threatens a growing face-off. But Mr Erdogan maintains an expert balancing act in the land of the micro-mini and hejab. His is nothing if not ambitious. Vast promotional hoardings outside the Topkapi Palace carry his image and the slogan “Hedef 2023”. It means “Goal to stay in power till 2023.”