BUILDING A TURKISH FAN COMMUNITY: SOCIAL MEDIA, SCHENGEN AND EASYJET JOHN MCMANUS
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John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Building a Turkish fan
community: social media,
Schengen and Easyjet
John McManus
Kick It !
The Anthropology of European Football
FREE Conference
University of Vienna, October 2013
1
John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
This paper is a work in progress.
Please do not quote without
explicit written permission from the author.
2
John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Working paper in progress: Please do not quote without the
author’s permission
Building a Turkish fan community: social media, Schengen and
Easyjet
Introduction
In this paper, I explore the practices of a group of transnational football fans
for Beşiktaş, a Turkish football team. I outline some of the processes whereby
a transnational football community is created. It is my belief that popular
culture practices, both in general and in diaspora communities in particular,
are currently taking shape and acquiring meaning in ways that challenge our
normative notions of “space”, “place” and “identity”. Exploring these
emergent networks of affiliation – such as those surrounding football – can
help us redefine notions of belonging and identity for 21st century football
fans.
I choose to place the emphasis on networks, as I believe it helps us
avoid the over-formalisation and discreteness that often plagues the study of
cultures and societies. When discussing phenomena as diffuse and flowing as
migration and its consequences, I feel it apt to foreground contingency. It also
helps us to augment the literature concerning migrant experiences more
readily with studies of the internet.
Not all scholars of Turkish-speaking diaspora communities1 share the
same desire to foreground networks. Nevertheless, there is much excellent
scholarship on differing Turkish transnational and diaspora networks. Ayşe
Çağlar looks at networks of migrants between Mardin and Essen (Çağlar,
1I will be using the term “Turkish-speaking” rather than the perhaps more common “Turkish” to
refer to the diaspora communities in question. Although more cumbersome, placing the
emphasis on language ensures we avoid homogenising what is in fact a diverse community
containing many “non-Turks” (most commonly Kurds and those from North Cyprus).
3
John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
2010). Ruth Mandel, as part of her exhaustive study of Turks in Germany,
traces the journeys of individuals across Europe from Germany to Turkey
(Mandel, 2008). Elsewhere religious networks such as Milli Görüş (National
Vision) and the Gülen movement and business networks such as MÜSIAD
(Association of Private Industry and Businessmen) have been, or are
beginning to be, the focus of academic attention (Abadan-Unat, 2011; Weller
& Yilmaz, 2012).
What has gathered far less attention are sporting networks. This is
despite the fact that, to borrow from Yael Navaro-Yashin, for many (especially
male) Turks, alongside religion or secularism or other ethnic, political, and
cultural identities, football teams are “a central commodity and symbol of
cultural identity in contemporary Turkey” (Navaro-Yashin, 2002, p. 222). For
the most fanatical, it is the primary identity: Beşiktaş fan first, Turk or Muslim
second.
The same goes for Turkish speakers in the diaspora. Take a walk down
Stoke Newington High Street, or a drive around the outskirts of Basel or
Nuremberg and you will find many dernekler (associations) in the form of
bars and clubs named after, and often painted in the colours of, the main
Turkish football teams. These locations serve as focal points for a wide array
of Turkish-language diasporans. A walk down the same streets when the final
whistle blows in a derby match is to experience hundreds of Turkish men (and
a very small number of women) disgorge onto the street to smoke, chat, argue,
sing and sometimes even fight.
At PhD level, this imbalance has started to be redressed: Emmanuel
Hogg is investigating Türkiyemspor, a Turkish team in Berlin, as part of a
history of football fan culture in Berlin between 1961 and 1989; Onur
4John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Unutulmaz is looking at the array of complexity and communal struggle
represented in Turkish-language football leagues in London. Nina Szogs, who
has helped to organise this conference, is investigating Galatasaray and
Fenerbahçe supporters in Vienna. Alongside these studies I add my own:
investigating diaspora transnational networks of fans for the Turkish team
Beşiktaş.
My focus is on the role of technologies in these fans’ production of their
particular diaspora experiences. We are told almost daily how “technology” is
changing how we live our lives, from our daily employment practices and
routines to how we find our future spouse. Much writing on technology, both
in academia and beyond, often exhibits unquestioned assumptions about what
we mean when we use the term; “Technology”, we are assured, is affecting all
manner of things. Yet few individuals, outside of scholars of technology
studies, pause to consider what we mean when we use the word.
This is partially true when it comes to exploring the structuring and
articulation of diasporic identities. “Technology” has mostly been collapsed
into “media”. Emerging recently in anthropology is an ever-growing field
exploring how identities, representations and imaginaries are being altered
through engagement with digital technologies – work such as the study of
diaspora and information technologies (Bernal, 2006) or indigenous
representation (both self and otherwise) through digital media (Srinivasan,
2006; Wilson & Stewart, 2008). This work augments a deeper history of
explorations of the role of the “established” media of television, radio and
newspapers in the diasporic experience. In terms of Turkish-speaking
communities, Kira Kosnick’s ethnography of a Berlin Radio station (Kosnick,
2007) and Kevin Robins and Asu Aksoy’s studies of television and Turkish
5John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Cypriots in the UK (Aksoy & Robins, 2000, 2001) are insightful works in this
mould.
Yet there is a need to update our ideas of Turkish migrant identity
formation in line with recent technological developments, arguably the most
significant being the mass adoption of technologies relating to the internet. As
I explain in due course, I would caution us from attempting to understand
media through just looking at media: a host of other “technologies” are also at
play in the production of the diasporic identity experience for Beşiktaş fans.
After giving some background to Beşiktaş and its fans, I begin my
argument by constructing a definition of “technology” that does not solely
relate to media, or even digital technologies. Armed with this broader
conceptual lens, I then progress to give ethnographic examples of some of the
forms of association and connection that have been enabled by new
technologies in the case of diaspora Beşiktaş fans. I finish by proposing that
my conclusions have wider import, suggesting processes of technology use
and identity construction for football fans more widely.
Background
Before plunging straight in, though, I would like to take a step back and
explain the particulars of my ethnographic research. I have spent almost two
years investigating a network of diaspora football fans for the Turkish football
side Beşiktaş.
For those unfamiliar with Beşiktaş, they are a Turkish sports club
founded in 1903 and based in Istanbul. Along with Galatasaray and
Fenerbahçe, they are one of the üç büyükler (big three) football teams in
6John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Turkey. These teams are widely supported across Turkey and Turkish
diaspora communities in Europe. Aside from a few surprise incursions from
Anatolian teams, these three teams have divided amongst themselves the
airwaves, the winning of trophies and the allegiances of most football fans in
Turkey. Beşiktaş normally finish in the top 3 or 4 of the Turkish league; as a
result they qualify ordinarily for European football competition.
Çarşı is the name of the fan group. Its meaning (from the Turkish for
“market place, town centre or shopping centre”) emerges out of the downtown
area and shopping centre in the Beşiktaş district of Istanbul where the
founders – a group of teenage boys in 1983 – hung out. Since its humble
origins, it has grown to become the umbrella term for the most fanatical
Beşiktaş supporters and is widely considered, even grudgingly by fans of rival
teams, to be the most well-organised and fanatical fan group in Turkey.
European-based offshoots of the Çarşı fan group also exist. Some
supporters of Beşiktaş across Europe have taken it upon themselves, at no
behest from the group in Turkey, to set up supporters’ groups. The names
given to their creations seem to serve two purposes, signifying a geographic
particularity at the same time as laying claim to part of a larger transnational
Turkish whole: Carşı Londra, (Çarşı London) Carşı Berlin, Carşı Israel,
Isviçre Kartalları (Swiss Eagles2) and Hollanda Kartalları (Dutch Eagles) to
name a few. The groups differ dramatically in terms of size, membership,
organisation and relation to the main Çarşı group in Turkey. Neverthless, the
“hardcore” is actually small, numbering only hundreds.
These fans are mostly interested in the “away” games in Europe. That
is, the fixtures where Beşiktaş are playing away from Istanbul. These matches
2 The Eagle is the symbol of Beşiktaş.
7John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
vary in location: from Portugal to Moscow; Italy to Norway. At the games, the
“European” fans normally outnumber the fans from Turkey. Strict visa
requirements combined with costly airfares act as a significant barrier to large
numbers of fans from Turkey attending most games.
I wish to outline in more detail the make-up of these “European” fans.
Fan groups are characterized by diversity, be it ethnic, class or religious. A
broad range of occupations is present, although the groups are predominately
working-class. A sizeable minority are migrants from Turkey, yet from no
particular region. As with Turkish communities in Europe more generally,
minorities are over-represented, with many Kurds and Alevis from Eastern
Anatolia or the periphery of the large cities of the West. Yet there are also
Sunni Muslims and those from less familiar places (northern Cyprus, for
instance).
The majority of fans were not born in Turkey and have never (officially)
“been” Turkish but were instead born in Western European countries. Indeed,
it is their status as European (as opposed to Turkish) citizens, with their
British passport, German Personalausweis (identity card) or Dutch salary,
which grants them the freedom to hop on a plane and be present at a game in
Portugal in a few hours.
How is this process unfolding? How do individuals organize, coalesce,
support and then disperse? It is evident that these small groupings of fans in
the UK, Germany or Holland feel themselves part of transnational
community. A Turkish-language brotherhood based around football. What
resources are being drawn upon in order to allow this diasporic identiy to
occur? What issues are present in the process of figuring oneself as an
“overseas” supporter for Beşiktas?
8John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Evidently, there are many different aspects to the creation of a
community. The role of masculinity, ethnic and religious diversity and
political persuasion are all important factors in the operations of these fan
clubs. Yet the most cursory of glances calls attention to the role that
“technology” is playing in this process. Time and space considerations,
combined with personal proclivity means I will devote the rest of this paper to
exploring the “technological” dimension of these communities.
Technology defined
At the outset, I propose two reconfigurations of “technology”. Firstly, I wish to
conceive of technologies rather than an amorphous “technology”. Speaking in
the plural seems to capture more accurately the “polymedia” environment in
which we find ourselves increasingly operating (Miller & Madianou, 2012).
The catch-all moniker of “technology” masks this complexity of different
technological usage and consequently blunts attempts to try and tease out the
relationship between technological practices and cultural production.
Secondly, I wish to argue strongly for viewing peoples’ interaction with
technologies as a process of mediation. Putting the stress on a process rather
than a “thing” helps us avoid the essentialist tendencies of much of the writing
about “global culture”(Mazzarella, 2004, p. 355). Emphasising mediation also
helps prick the bubble of exceptionalism surrounding modern digital
technologies. If we view all relationships as intrinsically mediated, then we are
compelled to view mass media less as instituting “unprecedented” processes
but simply an or the contemporary element of the ongoing constitution-
through-mediation of identity and culture. As Tom Boellstroff notes, from
9John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Greek plays to the printing press, and from postage stamps to telephones,
human communication has always been mediated (Boellstorff, 2008, p. 55).
The conception of “technologies” has been narrowed unnecessarily by
the failure of many diaspora studies to consider sufficiently the diachronic
aspect of technological production and its role in mediation. Victoria Bernal,
for instance, examines the increased involvement of diasporan Eritreans in
homeland politics as a result of the internet, but fails to consider the possible
impact of increased air routes and cheaper flights to Eritrea, altered
immigration law or passport technologies (Bernal, 2006). Gabriella Coleman,
having limited her discussion of technology simply to “digital media”, then
laments the fact that “the evidence remains unconvincing that digital media
are the sole or even the most important grounds for producing a shared
subjectivity or a wholly new sensorium” (Coleman, 2010, p. 490).
One way of achieving a wider scope is to take on board ideas
propounded by Actor Network Theorists. Pioneered by Michel Callon (1986),
Bruno Latour (2007) and John Law (1992), Actor Network Theory (ANT)
suggests that the impact of technology is neither due to its intrinsic qualities
nor the sociology/politics of the situation but rather a networked combination
of the two. Facts, truth, knowledge and technical capacity are all a
combination of elements held together in a network. Crucially, this is a
heterogeneous network, comprising alliances of two elements: human
(“actors”) and non-human (“actant”). Objects do not just reflect the social,
they transcribe and displace the interests of people and things. Taken together
with Madianou and Miller’s idea of “polymedia” (2012), we can glimpse a
drive to view technology use in the plural. My study echoes this sentiment.
10John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Technologies and Beşiktaş fans
To return to my specific case study, if we take on board ANT’s desire to
“flatten out” and consider the wider range of actants that affect what humans
are doing then we can build up a more complex image of the role of
technology in structuring the experience of transnational football fans. This
specific phenomenon of diasporic football support is, of course, reliant on
processes made possible by the internet and mobile phones. Yet what emerges
when we extend our field of vision further is a host of other “technologies”
that are contributing to the construction of fandom but which are often
ignored. For instance, the rise of budget airlines, the Schengen agreement,
machine-readable travel documents and cheap T-shirt printers.
The final section of my paper is devoted to exploring these elements in
more detail. By adopting a wider frame, the role of these technologies is
thrown into more stark relief, allowing us to view their use as inherently
conservative. We glimpse how people are using the potentials of the these
technologies “as a means to repair allegiances to religion, nation and family,
rather than trying to escape from them” (Miller & Slater, 2000, p. 18).
Sports channels, the internet and smartphones
One of the most salient consequences of the emergence of digital technologies
in the past decade has been the proliferation of television channels. Digital
television channels require lower bandwidths, meaning that digital
broadcasters can provide more digital channels in the same space. A result of
this proliferation has been the emergence of dedicated sports news channels,
broadcasting content strictly related to sport, usually football. In the UK, Sky
Sports News is the most common; in Turkey there is NTV Spor (NTV Sport), a
11John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
channel also watched keenly by Turkish-language diasporans. In addition,
there exists a dedicated BJK TV (Beşiktaş TV) channel.
Increased focus on sport requires greater amounts of content,
especially at times when no live sport is taking place. One consequence of this
need to fill airtime is a renewed interest in news stories about fans. Before
games, at the airport or in the pub, it is not uncommon to see official news
cameras circulating through the crowd and microphones being pushed in the
face of prospective news-worthy individuals. For most fans, the recording of
an interview or news story is an event of much excitement. Following its
broadcast, fans often scour the internet for the footage produced. When it’s
located, more often than not it is shared, the most common way being through
posting it on their Facebook pages, or as a link on a Beşiktaş fan
messageboard.
For all the talk of a recent democratisation of media production, the
activities of Beşiktaş fans show that the rise of social networking has not
“replaced” traditional media. There is a distinct hierarchy: being broadcast by
NTV Spor results in far more kudos than being filmed by your friend on an
iPhone and put on Facebook. The media-making activities of fans take place in
continual relation to “traditional” media; home-made video is an empowering
outlet for fan creativity, but is also often produced in the hope that it will be
picked up and broadcast by “traditional” media, or that its creators will
achieve such notoriety as to warrant an interview from “proper” media
sources.
The development of smartphones – mobile devices that allow for
relatively inexpensive and quick internet use – has lent these processes a quite
astonishing instantaneousness. Those fans who are not physically present are
12John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
able to be folded into events, conversations and interactions in real-time (or
something very close), via a phone’s onboard camera, an internet connection
and a few swipes of a user’s finger. An important part of the match experience
for many fans is the documentation of their adventures and the elicitation of
commentary upon it via social networking websites, the most common being
Facebook.
To give an example: in October 2011 I was sitting with three friends,
having a coffee in Kiev on the morning of a match. My friends were a bit bored
and so decided to take a photograph with their phone of myself and one of my
friends making silly poses. The photograph was taken, straight away uploaded
to Facebook, given a caption and added to my friend’s Facebook wall. As
usual, the photograph elicited comments from other friends on Facebook who
were not physically present with us. A quick glance at the timings of these
comments revealed how people were commenting almost instantly. Each
comment announces itself as a notification in a user’s Facebook account and
my friend duly kept picking up his phone and relaying these comments back
to us gathered around the table, as they came in one by one.
Not simply are those fans who are not physically present being made to
feel “a part” of the match-day experience. More significantly, they are
influencing its course. Smartphones and extensive 3G (telephone data)
networks allow for those physically at the game to document their activities
quickly and easily, and the medium of Facebook “affords” (Hutchby, 2001)
individuals who are not present the opportunity to respond in real-time to this
content. The process is mutually referential and generates what Miller has
labeled an “unprecedented simultaneity” of experience (Miller, 2011, p. 209).
Indeed, Miller argues that Facebook’s capabilities do not just allow new social
13John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
connections and networks to be formed but actually contribute to a changing
notion of space and time “as a social medium” (Ibid.).
Easyjet, Schengen and stash
Yet there are a host of technologies away from digital media which are no less
important to the structuring of the fan experience. The first is cheap
transportation. The majority of fans are extremely cost-conscious.
Transportation to these games consists of searching for the cheapest flight or,
where possible, choosing to drive. From London, travel to matches has been
exclusively on budget airlines such as Ryanair, Easyjet and Wizz Air. I have
attended 10 games at an average cost of £60 per game for transport. The
ability to travel to a match for such a small amount is a crucial determinant in
peoples’ choice of attending.
As is EU border policy. The enactment of the Schengen Agreement in
1995 created the Schengen Area, a composite of 22 EU countries and 4 non-
EU member states in which internal border controls were eliminated. The
increased ease of mobility across European countries (excluding the UK and
Ireland) facilitates the experience of fans coming together for games. Not only
is travel visa-free, but for most Beşiktaş fans does not even require extra
documentation: the identity card or driver’s licence which is normally present
in their wallet suffices as the only documentation required. These factors help
minimise the cost, preparation time, and difficulty of travel and hence are
important elements allowing fans to coalesce around matches.
The final “technology” I would like to draw attention to is the
merchandise of fans. Glance at the crowd at a Beşiktaş match in Europe and
arguably the first thing that attracts your attention is the array of different
14John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
scarves, hats, T-shirts and banners you see in the club’s colours (black and
white). Official club merchandise, purchased in Turkey or via the online
website, is prevalent but what holds higher caché is fan-produced
merchandise. Normally limited to small runs (anything from 20 to 150) these
fan-produced items range from scarves, to coats, T-shirts, hats, flags and
banners. Items normally carry a geographical brand (Çarşı Londra, Çarşı
Israel) which, as touched upon above, simultaneously emphases exclusivity
(we’re from London) and fellowship (we’re from Beşiktaş/Çarşı).
An important point often missed is that the sartorial is as much a
method of communication for fans as text messages or Facebook posts.3 As
Dick Hebdige has noted, subcultural items such as mod scooters or punk
safety pins act as a uniform, the outward manifestation of one’s fanaticism
(Hebdige, 1979). There is a significant amount of one-upmanship amongst
Beşiktaş sub-groups for what is considered the “best stash”.
Objections to merchandise being labeled a “technology” can perhaps be
diffused if we linger briefly on the technologies behind the creation of such
items. One fan explained to me that he produces his elaborate banners with
the aid of an online application. You upload a picture to the website, it then
scales it to the required size and maps it onto sheets of A4 paper. The user
then simply has to print the image off, line up the sheets of paper and trace
the image. Furthermore, the process relies on increasing sophisticated T-shirt,
scarf and banner printing equipment, as well as the falling cost of materials
and their production.
3And indeed, the two are inextricably linked: a great deal of Facebook postings are designed to
show off a particular item of merchandise.
15John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
Conclusion
In a recent working paper about webcam technology, Danny Miller and
Jolynna Sinanan suggest that humans “have always possessed the cultural
ability to imagine ourselves as others see us and strive to work on that
appearance. What has been lacking is the technical facility that matched this
cultural facility, other than the static mirror” (Miller & Sinanan, 2012, p. 4).
What I have attempted to do in this paper is two-fold; firstly, to use the
example of diaspora football fans to argue that these “technical facilities”
should not simply be limited to digital media technologies, and secondly to
then point out the wider chain of connections and insights, the redefined
notions of belonging and identity for diaspora communities that we glimpse if
we broaden our focus.
It is possible to view diasporic football support as a form of intimacy
between individuals and in relation to an idea of “homeland”. As Miller and
Sinanan note elsewhere: “all forms of intimacy [are] thoroughly dependent
upon the construction of particular conditions of ambience that allowed
people to experience this feeling of togetherness as natural”. What
technologies such as mobile phones, planes or T-shirt printers have done is
draw attention how much work it takes to “culturally create the conditions of
feeling natural and close” (Ibid., 5).
Indeed, this feeling of being natural and close is at the heart of the
match-day experience for Beşiktaş fans. Sometimes this feeling is exalted,
such as in a moment of transcendental union of coordinated singing and
movement. Yet just as often attention is being drawn to its absence, in the
form of disagreements over who is in charge, a lack of coordination in the
chanting or actual physical violence amongst Beşiktaş fans.
16John McManus: Department of Anthropology, University of Oxford
As such, the entire phenomenon of transnational Turkish football
support illustrates the width of the gap that these particular diasporans are
trying to bridge. Extreme geographical dispersion across Western Europe, a
diversity of cultural backgrounds in Turkey and a multitude of differing
migration experiences are just a few of the many elements which disrupt and
complicate the generation of an ambience of togetherness.
Consequently, peoples’ use of technologies in this process is not
“emancipatory”, designed to liberate people from conceptions of place and
space but actually far more conservative and mundane. Fans drum up funds to
print a set of T-shirts, scour the internet for cheap flights and coalesce for a
few days on the other side of Europe not to “escape” their backgrounds at
Turkish-language diasporans, their allegiances to a nation, family or
background, but instead to repair them. Technologies (broadly defined) are
resources that are drawn upon as an organising device used to “create the
conditions of feeling natural and close”. Viewing the role of technologies in
this manner allows us to better understand popular culture practices – such as
football support – in diaspora communities and hence notions of belong and
identity in the 21st century.
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