A Memory of a City: Istanbul’s Liberation from October 6 to the Present
A Memory of a City: Istanbul’s Liberation from October 6 to the Present
Istanbul is not merely a city of stones, bridges, sea, and sky. It is a city that leaves a mark on the heart of every era, carrying both the heaviest burdens of the past and the brightest hopes of the future. That is why each of its days speaks not only to its own people but also to the world. Yet there are certain days to which time grants greater significance. October 6 is one of those days. It is the day of Istanbul’s liberation—a day that marks a nation’s emergence from the shadow of captivity and its reunion with freedom.
The occupation that began with the Armistice of Mudros in 1918 had almost imprisoned the city in its own shadow. Foreign soldiers roamed Dolmabahçe, Galata, Kadıköy, and Üsküdar; on the streets, the face of the Turk was pale, and the heart heavy. Though Istanbul had been the capital of a thousand years, it remained silent in those moments. The minarets still reached for the sky, but the call to prayer sounded sorrowful. For no voice truly resonates without independence. For four years, Istanbul endured such silence. The people were helpless, yet hopeful; sorrowful, yet faithful. That faith was tied to the resistance sprouting in Anatolia. While the War of Independence was fought in the mountains, plains, and battlefields of Anatolia, Istanbul remained like a patient whose heart beat rapidly but whose breath was short. Every day it was crushed under the boots of occupying forces, yet in that very pressure, the birth of an indomitable will was taking place. That will, which sprouted in Ankara, strengthened at Sakarya, and was crowned with victory at Dumlupınar, finally rose over Istanbul like a dawn on October 6, 1923. As Turkish soldiers entered through Dolmabahçe, it was not merely an army returning to the city—it was the honor of a nation. The people flooded the streets; tears flowed, and prayers rose. That day, Istanbul was not only freed; it was reborn.
For this reason, October 6 is not merely a date. It is a bridge that carries a nation from the shame of captivity to the pride of freedom. It is a symbol showing that a people do not bow, do not surrender, and can overcome even the greatest obstacles with patience and resolve. This symbol must not remain only in the annals of the past. October 6 is also a date that speaks to the present. Today, Istanbul stands before us with an entirely different face. A century has passed since the shadow of occupation lifted. Yet the city still reflects the soul of a nation. Millions of people walk its streets, speaking different languages, living different lives in a shared space. Skyscrapers rise into the sky, the two shores of the Bosphorus are connected by bridges, and the city transforms rapidly with technology. Yet amid this change, one question remains: how do we carry the meaning of October 6 into today? Liberation is not merely about driving the enemy out of the city; it is also about ensuring the city is lived in the way it deserves. Istanbul is a responsibility—not merely something to boast about in history books, but a legacy to preserve and pass on. If the city’s history, culture, and identity are not respected in daily life, then the liberation remains incomplete.
Today, Istanbul is a metropolis that draws the eyes of the world. Millions pass through it every day. Yet amid the crowds, whispers of the past can still be heard. In the gardens of Topkapi Palace, under the dome of Hagia Sophia, in the courtyard of Eyüp Sultan, in the shadow of the Galata walls, the trace of that liberation remains. Modern buildings may rise, traffic horns may blare, yet with the wind across the Bosphorus, the voice of October 6 can still be heard. For Istanbul does not forget its liberation. It cannot.
Commemorating October 6 is not merely about holding a ceremony, hanging flags, or listening to a few speeches. To honor it is to recognize the value of a city, to never forget the worth of freedom, and to reaffirm a nation’s pride every day. For freedom grows only when it is remembered; when forgotten, it quietly fades. Thus, carrying the spirit of October 6 into the present is the duty of every individual. The young people walking Istanbul’s streets today may not know what occupation meant. For them, Istanbul is busy, crowded, noisy, but always free. Yet a hundred years ago, freedom was beyond imagination. That is why October 6 must be taught to the young—not only as a history lesson but as a lesson in identity. A nation’s memory lives on only when passed to new generations.
Istanbul’s liberation also tells us another story: the power of unity. On that day, people of different faiths, lifestyles, and dreams came together under one flag. For in the face of captivity, there was only one name for everyone: the Turkish nation. This spirit must continue in today’s Istanbul. The city must be a place of unity and solidarity, not division or polarization. Only then can it stand strong. October 6 is both a memory of the past and a compass for the future. It tells us: if you love this city, protect it. Guard its stones, its water, its air, its history. Do not see it merely as a field of profit, a commercial center, or a crowd. Feel it as the heart of a nation. When this identity is preserved, the meaning of liberation endures.
Today, Istanbul is one of the world’s most important cities due to its economic power, cultural richness, and strategic location. Yet it is also being tested by its problems: traffic, population density, the preservation of historical monuments, and the loss of natural spaces. These are, in fact, the occupiers of today—not with boots, but with concrete, selfish quarrels, and negligence encircling the city. Understanding October 6 also means resisting these modern occupations. For liberation is not only a matter of the past; it concerns the present as well. Just as a nation rejected captivity in the past, it must reject corruption, negligence, and identity loss today. Celebrating Istanbul’s liberation is not just applauding the past; it is defending the present. Therefore, the spirit of October 6 must be felt again in streets, squares, classrooms, and homes. For it is the spirit of freedom and belonging.
Ultimately, October 6 is the city’s rebirth day. On that day, Istanbul began to breathe again. That breath still lives today in the wind across the Bosphorus, in the call to prayer from mosques, in the laughter of children. To preserve that breath, one must remember. To remember is to live. To keep alive is to protect. And to protect is the continuation of true liberation.