Young Turks Quotes

A minute later, the young Turk and Howard parted on frosty terms, not much warmed by Howard’s twenty-pence tip, the only extra change he had in his pocket. It is on journeys like this – where one is so horribly misunderstood – that you find yourself longing for home, that place where you are entirely understood, for better or for worse.

Belgian colonial law barred Congolese from reaching senior positions in the army, civil service, judiciary or other organs of state, and by the time the colonialists left, the country had barely a handful of graduates. Control of the Congo fell into the hands not of a cadre of trained, experienced, educated leaders, but of young turks who suddenly found themselves vying for positions of enormous influence.

I did not know it was a crime for a Christian to be found naked in company with a young Turk.

They knew that the “Young Turk” clique which had engineered the coup was made up of Europeanized renegades, many of them not even nominal Moslems, but atheistic Jews.

do so much shit I don’t want anyone else to see, or know about, that I never want to have to explain to another human being. And I want to keep doing them. I enjoy listening to the Young Turks really loud in the bathroom while I take a long shower, then

The angel we named God banned representations of himself, even the writing of his name, trying to halt the process of literalization—but in the end it became inevitable. The angel found himself at the head of a corporation, run by Young Turks who wouldn't respect the line management structure: They rewrote his memos to make the law more rigorous, more confined, more human. He got ousted in a boardroom coup and kicked upstairs. He hadn't realized the power of corporeality, that the minds of men would of necessity alter the mind of their God. Being a deity meant taking on a lot of your subjects' qualities—both profound and trivial.

There was no more reasonable sequitur between “provocation” and “reaction” in the case of the French Revolution than in the case of the Jews and the Nazis, the Armenians and the young Turks, the old Russian regime, the Kerensky interlude and bolshevism, Portuguese colonial rule in Angola and the horrors perpetrated by savage monsters of Holden Roberto’s “Liberation Front,” the Belgian administration in the Congo and the delirious atrocities of Gbenye and Mulele, British colonialism in Kenya and the Mau-Mau. We have to face the fact that man is not “good”—only the extraordinary man is, only the heroic saint or the saintly hero, while the noble savage belongs to the world of fairy tales.

If you are not embarrassed or ashamed of your first version then you are shipping too late’.

A solid defense juror is an older woman. They have the most empathy, the most experience, and they’re less judgmental, and they’re really hard on young punks like Turk Bauer. And beware of Millennials.

Not only were the young Turks unaware of their past, but the Turkish Government was “buying history” at American universities by giving them large endowments to keep its barbaric past from the American university agenda—a past filled with such atrocities that it had inspired Hitler. “Who remembers the Armenians?” Hitler had asked to justify his slaughter of the Jews and other designated enemies of the state. Indeed. And who even knew the Pontic Greeks ever existed?

Carl Franzoni perhaps summed it up best when he declared rather bluntly that, “the Byrds’ records were manufactured.” The first album in particular was an entirely engineered affair created by taking a collection of songs by outside songwriters and having them performed by a group of nameless studio musicians (for the record, the actual musicians were Glen Campbell on guitar, Hal Blaine on drums, Larry Knechtel on bass, Leon Russell on electric piano, and Jerry Cole on rhythm guitar), after which the band’s trademark vocal harmonies, entirely a studio creation, were added to the mix. As would be expected, the Byrds’ live performances, according to Barney Hoskyns’ Waiting for the Sun, “weren’t terribly good.” But that didn’t matter much; the band got a lot of assistance from the media, with Time being among the first to champion the new band. And they also got a tremendous assist from Vito and the Freaks and from the Young Turks, as previously discussed.

as a general lassitude overtakes the sated Turk; then a love of ease and virtue supplants the love for maidens; our Ottoman enters upon the impotent, repentant, admonitory stage of life, forswears, disbands the harem, and grown to an exemplary, sulky old soul, goes about all alone among the meridians and parallels saying his prayers, and warning each young Leviathan from his amorous errors.

Read! Read cookbooks, trade magazines — I recommend Food Arts, Saveur, Restaurant Business magazines. They are useful for staying abreast of industry trends, and for pinching recipes and concepts. Some awareness of the history of your business is useful, too. It allows you to put your own miserable circumstances in perspective when you've examined and appreciated the full sweep of culinary history. Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London is invaluable. As is Nicolas Freleng's The Kitchen, David Blum's Flash in the Pan, the Batterberrys' fine account of American restaurant history, On the Town in New York, and Joseph Mitchell's Up in the Old Hotel. Read the old masters: Escoffier, Bocuse et al as well as the Young Turks: Keller, Marco-Pierre White, and more recent generations of innovators and craftsmen.

Present at the first, in October 1927, were the three grand masters who had helped launch the new era of physics but were now skeptical of the weird realm of quantum mechanics it had spawned: Hendrik Lorentz, 74, just a few months from death, the winner of the Nobel for his work on electromagnetic radiation; Max Planck, 69, winner of the Nobel for his theory of the quantum; and Albert Einstein, 48, winner of the Nobel for discovering the law of the photoelectric effect. Of the remaining twenty-six attendees, more than half had won or would win Nobel Prizes as well. The boy wonders of the new quantum mechanics were all there, hoping to convert or conquer Einstein: Werner Heisenberg, 25; Paul Dirac, 25; Wolfgang Pauli, 27; Louis de Broglie, 35; and from America, Arthur Compton, 35. Also there was Erwin Schrödinger, 40, caught between the young Turks and the older skeptics. And, of course, there was the old Turk, Niels Bohr, 42, who had helped spawn quantum mechanics with his model of the atom and become the staunch defender of its counterintuitive ramifications.

Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of the father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spurned the bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the tenets of her religion and taught her to aspire to higher powers of intellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the female followers of Mahomet. This lady died; but her lessons were indelibly impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again returning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem, allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusements, ill-suited to the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble emulation of virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian and remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in society was enchanting to her.

It is possible to get too hung up about this point. In, for example, the genealogical multiple pile-up of Swabia with almost every hill under its own prince, it is possible to imagine a feudal version of Jorge Luis Borges’ infinite library, a world of so many hundreds of rulers that every variation of behaviour is possible, or indeed certain, in any given moment. So somewhere a ruler with a huge grey beard is dying surrounded by his weeping family and retainers; somewhere else a bored figure is irritably shooting bits off the plaster decorations in the ballroom; another is making an improper suggestion to a stable boy; another is telling an anecdote about fighting the Turks, staring into space, girding for battle, converting to Calvinism, wishing he had a just slightly bigger palace, and so on. This dizzying multiplicity makes each of hundreds of castles a frightening challenge – with the possibility of the guide making my head explode with the dizzying details of how the young duchess had been walled up in a tower for being caught in a non-spiritual context with her confessor and how as a result the Strelitz-Nortibitz inheritance had passed, unexpectedly, to a cousin resident in Livonia who, on his way home to claim the dukedom, died of plague in a tavern near Rothenberg thus activating the claim of the very odd dowager’s niece, long resident in a convent outside Bamberg. But it is probably time to move on.

The Venetians catalogue everything, including themselves. ‘These grapes are brown,’ I complain to the young vegetable-dealer in Santa Maria Formosa. ‘What is wrong with that ? I am brown,’ he replies. ‘I am the housemaid of the painter Vedova,’ says a maid, answering the telephone. ‘I am a Jew,’ begins a cross-eyed stranger who is next in line in a bookshop. ‘Would you care to see the synagogue?’ Almost any Venetian, even a child, will abandon whatever he is doing in order to show you something. They do not merely give directions; they lead, or in some cases follow, to make sure you are still on the right way. Their great fear is that you will miss an artistic or ‘typical’ sight. A sacristan, who has already been tipped, will not let you leave until you have seen the last Palma Giovane. The ‘pope’ of the Chiesa dei Greci calls up to his housekeeper to throw his black hat out the window and settles it firmly on his broad brow so that he can lead us personally to the Archaeological Museum in the Piazza San Marco; he is afraid that, if he does not see to it, we shall miss the Greek statuary there. This is Venetian courtesy. Foreigners who have lived here a long time dismiss it with observation : ‘They have nothing else to do.’ But idleness here is alert, on the qui vive for the opportunity of sightseeing; nothing delights a born Venetian so much as a free gondola ride. When the funeral gondola, a great black-and-gold ornate hearse, draws up beside a fondamenta, it is an occasion for aesthetic pleasure. My neighbourhood was especially favoured this way, because across the campo was the Old Men’s Home. Everyone has noticed the Venetian taste in shop displays, which extends down to the poorest bargeman, who cuts his watermelons in half and shows them, pale pink, with green rims against the green side-canal, in which a pink palace with oleanders is reflected. Che bello, che magnifici, che luce, che colore! - they are all professori delle Belle Arti. And throughout the Veneto, in the old Venetian possessions, this internal tourism, this expertise, is rife. In Bassano, at the Civic Museum, I took the Mayor for the local art-critic until he interupted his discourse on the jewel-tones (‘like Murano glass’) in the Bassani pastorals to look at his watch and cry out: ‘My citizens are calling me.’ Near by, in a Paladian villa, a Venetian lasy suspired, ‘Ah, bellissima,’ on being shown a hearthstool in the shape of a life-size stuffed leather pig. Harry’s bar has a drink called a Tiziano, made of grapefruit juice and champagne and coloured pink with grenadine or bitters. ‘You ought to have a Tintoretto,’ someone remonstrated, and the proprietor regretted that he had not yet invented that drink, but he had a Bellini and a Giorgione. When the Venetians stroll out in the evening, they do not avoid the Piazza San Marco, where the tourists are, as Romans do with Doney’s on the Via Veneto. The Venetians go to look at the tourists, and the tourists look back at them. It is all for the ear and eye, this city, but primarily for the eye. Built on water, it is an endless succession of reflections and echoes, a mirroring. Contrary to popular belief, there are no back canals where tourist will not meet himself, with a camera, in the person of the another tourist crossing the little bridge. And no word can be spoken in this city that is not an echo of something said before. ‘Mais c’est aussi cher que Paris!’ exclaims a Frenchman in a restaurant, unaware that he repeats Montaigne. The complaint against foreigners, voiced by a foreigner, chimes querulously through the ages, in unison with the medieval monk who found St. Mark’s Square filled with ‘Turks, Libyans, Parthians, and other monsters of the sea’. Today it is the Germans we complain of, and no doubt they complain of the Americans, in the same words.

The German offer remained the best deal on the table, and by the end of August the Ottomans reverted to their special relationship with the Central Powers. That the Young Turks approached the Russians at all demonstrated the lengths to which they were willing to go in order to stay out of Europe’s war.

It’s a myth that an entrepreneur cannot work in a corporation. It’s all in the mindset.

The book is limited in time and space to addressing population policies in the Young Turk era (1913–50) in Eastern Turkey. It begins with the Young Turk seizure of power in the 1913 coup d’état and ends with the end of Young Turk rule in 1950.1 It will describe how Eastern Turkey as an ethnically heterogeneous imperial shatter zone was subjected to various forms of nationalist population policies aimed at transforming the region into an ethnically homogeneous space to be included into the Turkish nation state. How was Eastern Turkey moulded by Young Turk population policies? Why was the Turkish process of nation formation so violent in this region? Why do political elites launch policies to increase homogeneity in their societies? These will be the guiding questions in this book. The focus will be on an account of the implementation of these nationalist population policies in the eastern provinces, in order to discuss the policies in detail. This book argues that the Young Turk nationalist elite launched this process of societal transformation in order to establish and sustain a Turkish nation state. In this process, ethnically heterogeneous borderland regions were subjected to more encompassing and more violent forms of population policies than the core regions. The eastern provinces were one of these special regions. This book highlights the role played by the Young Turks in the identification of the population of the eastern provinces as an object of knowledge, management, and radical change. It details the emergence of a wide range of new technologies of population policies, including physical destruction, deportation, forced assimilation, and memory politics, which converged in an attempt to increase population homogeneity within the nation state. The common denominator to which these phenomena can be reduced is the main theme of population policies. The dominant paradigms in the historiography of the great dynastic land empires can be characterized as a nationalist paradigm and a statist paradigm. According to the first paradigm, the phenomenon of nationalism led to the dissolution of the empires. Centrifugal nationalism nibbled at the imperial system for several decades until the empire crumbled into nation states. Due to their relatively early acquaintance with nationalism, the main force behind this nationalist disintegration was often located among minority groups such as Czechs, Serbs, Greeks, and Armenians. In this interpretation, the Young Turks too, were a nationalist movement that reacted to minority nationalisms by pushing for the establishment of a Turkish state in the Ottoman Anatolian heartland. In 1923, they succeeded when a unitary Turkish nation state rose from the ashes of the Ottoman Empire.

Like many Young Turk leaders, Talat was not ethnically Turkish; rather he was of Pomak descent, that is, native Bulgarian Muslim.

the Young Turks with a complex nationalist ideology replete with ideas such as “in reality there cannot be a common home and fatherland for different peoples.… The new civilization will be created by the Turkish race.”27

When finally Lawrence and the others reached the culvert, they found one Turkish soldier dead and Farraj horribly wounded, shot through the side. With efforts to stanch his bleeding to no avail, Farraj’s companions attempted to lift him onto a camel, even as the young man begged to be left to die. The matter was rather decided when an alarm went up that a Turkish patrol of some fifty soldiers was approaching along the rails. Knowing the hideous end the Turks often perpetrated on enemy captives, Lawrence and his bodyguards had a tacit understanding to finish off any of their number too badly wounded to travel. With Farraj, this coup de grâce task fell to Lawrence. “I knelt down beside him, holding my pistol near the ground by his head so that he should not see my purpose, but he must have guessed it, for he opened his eyes and clutched me with his harsh, scaly hand, the tiny hand of these unripe Nejd fellows. I waited a moment, and he said, ‘Daud will be angry with you,’ the old smile coming back so strangely to this gray shrinking face. I replied, ‘salute him from me.’ He returned the formal answer, ‘God will give you peace,’ and at last wearily closed his eyes.” After shooting Farraj, Lawrence remounted his camel, and he and his entourage fled as the first Turkish bullets came for them.

For the young Turks, soon to assume power and build a nation-state on the ruins of the Ottoman Empire, Japan provided clear inspiration. These envious outside observers of Japan’s progress did not see the extreme violence of the country’s makeover. Nor did they notice the trends towards conformity, militarism and racism that were later to make Japan a ominously successful rival to Europe’s imperialist nations- by 1942, Japan would occupy or dominate a broad swathe of the Asian mainland, from the Aleutian Islands in the north-east to the borders of India, after booting out almost all the European masters in between. For many Asians in the late nineteenth century, the proof of Japan’s success lay in the extent to which it could demand equality with the West; and, here, the evidence was simply overwhelming for people who had tried to do the same and had failed miserably.

Young Turks Billy left his home with a dollar in his pocket and a head full of dreams. He said somehow, some way, it's gotta get better than this. Patti packed her bags, left a note for her momma, she was just seventeen, there were tears in her eyes when she kissed her little sister goodbye. They held each other tight as they drove on through the night they were so exited. We got just one shot of life, let's take it while we're still not afraid. Because life is so brief and time is a thief when you're undecided. And like a fistful of sand, it can slip right through your hands. Young hearts be free tonight. Time is on your side, Don't let them put you down, don't let 'em push you around, don't let 'em ever change your point of view. Paradise was closed so they headed for the coast in a blissful manner. They took a tworoom apartment that was jumping ev'ry night of the week. Happiness was found in each other's arms as expected, yeah Billy pierced his ears, drove a pickup like a lunatic, ooh! Young hearts be free tonight.Time is on your side, Don't let them put you down, don't let 'em push you around, don't let 'em ever change your point of view. Young hearts be free tonight.Time is on your side. Billy wrote a letter back home to Patti's parents tryin' to explain. He said we're both real sorry that it had to turn out this way. But there ain't no point in talking when there's nobody list'ning so we just ran away Patti gave birth to a ten pound baby boy, yeah! Young hearts be free tonight, time is on your side. Young hearts be free tonight, time is on your side. Young hearts be free tonight, time in on your side. Young hearts gotta run free, be free, live free Time is on, time is on your side Time, time, time, time is on your side is on your side is on your side is on your side Young heart be free tonight tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, yeah

You know,” I said as we trudged homeward, “this is an important occasion, and not just because of this great discovery. According to my calculations, tomorrow will be our second anniversary on the island “ “Is this really true?” Elizabeth asked. “I can hardly believe so much time has passed.” “It is true, my dear,” I said. Think of all of the adventures that we have had and that we are safe, well-fed and happy. I am going to declare tomorrow a special day of celebration.” “You mean that we are going to have a party?” cried Francis, jumping for joy. “Oh, I can hardly wait!” Actually, Francis did not have long to wait, for when the morning dawned, Elizabeth and I had the entire day’s festivities planned. Greeting my sons on the lawn beneath Falcon’s Nest, I said, “For the past two years, you boys have been practicing wrestling, running, swimming, shooting and horseback riding here on the island. Now, we are going to determine the champions of these feats.” So, the competitions began, with Elizabeth cheering the boys and Turk and Flora running alongside them. Unquestionably, the highlight of the day was the horseback-riding event. Fritz mounted Lightfoot and Ernest rode Grizzle, but they were no match for Jack’s skillful handling of the wild buffalo. A practiced groom could not have managed a thoroughbred horse with more grace and ease. “Jack, my boy,” I boomed, “I hereby declare you the winner of this contest.” “No, Papa.” interrupted Francis. “You haven’t seen what I can do yet.” Francis rode into the arena, mounted on his young buffalo bull, Broumm, which was just four months old. Elizabeth had made a saddle of kangaroo skin and stirrups that adjusted to Francis’s little legs.

She was kind of a genius. If you got her drunk, she could go a full hour without taking a breath about the demise of labor unions and the mistakes of the counterculture movement, like she was a host on The Young Turks.

When a society strongly supports education, everyone is given a chance, inequality diminishes, and an informed and educated population leads to a better world.

Today, humans continue to progress physically, emotionally, technologically, socially, and mentally, so those who resist change are actually resisting the natural development of a free society.

Speaking of his own country, Konstantinos Stephanidis, Member of the Greek Parliament, had this to say in May 1999: Today, we all realise that, as a result of its limited demographic growth, Greece is doomed to become a small twenty-first-century country comprised of a majority of old and rich people, a country surrounded by an ocean of poverty-stricken youths. In 10 years’ time, the Greek population will most probably still be stagnating at 10 million people that enjoy a Western standard of living, but the Turks will have reached a total of 80 million by then. In other words, we are talking about the presence of 10 million affluent individuals surrounded by 100 million poor ones, almost all of them Muslim. Therein is the real problem that Greece faces today. What is true of Greece also applies to the whole of Europe, but on an even larger scale. Not only are we being invaded from the inside, but are also surrounded by young and prolific countries which covet what we have.

the young Turks followed Dante’s advice to write using clear, elegant, simple words based on colloquial speech:

In the first months of World War I the Young Turks instigated a national effort to exterminate the Armenian population under the guise of modernization, suppressing domestic dissent, and securing Turkey’s borders.

According to the orator Dio Chrysostom, India had rivers of flowing milk and olive oil, its people lived to be over four hundred years old but stayed young and beautiful and had no disease.

When you stifle the flow of information to the people,’ Krishan Kant, the Congress’s one-time young Turk, had warned in parliament, ‘you are blocking the channel of information to yourself.

A self important college freshman was walking along the beach philosophizing to anyone who would listen, when he came across an old man minding his own business in the shade. He made it clear to the old man that it was impossible for the old man's generation to understand the new regime. The new generation, the young Turks. You grew up in a different world, the student said, and a pretty primitive one. The youth of today grew up with television, jet speed travel, space travel, man walked on the moon. We have nuclear energy, super tankers, and smartphones, broadband internet systems, and so much more. The old man thought for a second, and then responded, you're right son, we didn't have those things when we were young, that's why we invented them, for arrogant little shits like you. What have you got planned for the next generation?

bluster—Enver sent Turkish troops to fight in the Caucasus in winter with no overcoats and without even boots—but the increasingly fanatical Young Turk junta looked for someone else to blame for the failure of the Turanian dream. Thus, the infamous Armenian massacres of 1915 were set in motion.

Shortly before World War I, a secretive and disciplined cabal of young Turkish military officers known as the Ittihad took power in Turkey and brought the country into an alliance with Germany. These were the original “Young Turks,” and their capacity for cruelty and violence still reverberates in that phrase today.

the Armenian genocide of the First World War years, which represented an escalation in intensity, rather than a departure from previous tolerance. Although the regime in power at the time of the actual massacres was the nationalist Young Turks, the actual violence had many resemblances to the Hamidian killings of twenty years earlier. As before, Turkish forces attacked a community believed to be sympathetic to external enemies, at a time when European powers were threatening not just the defeat of the Turkish state, but its partition among rival imperial powers.

To tidy away,” he said once, “is to replicate on a miniature scale what Hitler did with the Jews, the Young Turks with the Armenians, and what the Yugoslavs are doing now to each other. Hence the term ethnic cleansing. Cleansing, cleaning, tidying — all these things are forms of genocide.

Baker’s arrival at the Labs in the late 1930s roughly coincided with the arrival of its future intellectual stars—Shockley, Shannon, Pierce, and Fisk, among others—the men who were sometimes referred to by their colleagues as the Young Turks.

In those days, Baker explained, it was assumed that such studies were done at the world’s great universities. But Shockley and Pierce used Bell Labs’ resources to create “a new kind of science—one that was ‘deep’ but at the same time closely coupled with human affairs.” In Baker’s view, the Young Turks succeeded for the first time in bridging the gap between the best science of the academy and the important applications that a modern society needed.

As they rose to influence, the web of relationships among the Young Turks was hard to discern. There was little doubt that Baker and Fisk, the most accomplished administrators in the group, admired each other; their lengthy private memos to each other from the 1950s attest to a mutual respect and deep trust. Baker and his research deputy John Pierce were even closer, though their temperaments differed greatly: Pierce was antic and impatient, whereas Baker was poised and diplomatic. The two nevertheless discovered that they were companionable.

Constantinople had been changing for sometime before the Young Turks got hold of it. It would continue to change long after they had gone.

One of these was the perception that the Tanzimat had not tried to find compromise between the Islamic heritage and the European reforms and laws. The blind acceptance of European ideas and laws was criticized by members of the Young Ottomans, along with the lack of effort to overcome the differences between Islam and the West. Interestingly, this criticism did not come from conservative elements within the Ottoman society, but rather liberal and secular intellectuals.

One of the Young Ottomans’ most prominent figures, Namik Kemal (1840-1888), derived from early Islamic traditions and practices the idea of a representative assembly that would balance the power of the Sultan. Both the idea that the Sultan’s power needed to be checked along with their support for the enshrinement of Islamic tradition as the core of the Ottoman tradition led the Young Ottomans to see the necessity for the drafting of a Constitution. This Constitution would be the cornerstone of the new Ottoman identity, along with the Ottoman state and institutions.

During his speech, Lord Sydenham warned that the Mandate as being presented by Churchill to the League of Nations, ‘will undoubtedly, in time, transfer the control of the Holy Land to New York, Berlin, London, Frankfurt and other places. The strings will not be pulled from Palestine; they will be pulled from foreign capitals; and for everything that happens during this transference of power, we shall be responsible.’22 When the vote was taken, the views of the anti-Zionist Lords prevailed, with sixty voting against the Balfour Declaration, and only twenty-nine for it. On the following day, Major Hubert Young, a senior official in the Middle East Department of the Colonial Office, who in 1918 had participated in the Arab Revolt against the Turks, warned Churchill that the anti-Zionist vote ‘will have encouraged the Arab Delegation to persist in their obstinate attitude.’ Unless the vote in the Lords could be ‘signally overruled’ by the Commons, Britain’s pledges to the Jews would not be able to be fulfilled.

Having won the Cross of St. George as a dashing young cavalry officer in the war of 1877 against the Turks, Sukhomlinov believed that military knowledge acquired in that campaign was permanent truth. As Minister of War he scolded a meeting of Staff College instructors for interest in such “innovations” as the factor of firepower against the saber, lance and the bayonet charge. He could not hear the phrase “modern war,” he said, without a sense of annoyance. “As war was, so it has remained … all these things are merely vicious innovations. Look at me, for instance; I have not read a military manual for the last twenty-five years.

Alan Kay: They just were so brain-dead and so unable to understand anything about any process that was not simple business. Alvy Ray Smith: Did they make a mistake? From a corporate point of view probably not. After having started two companies myself and having had all the Young Turks come to me and say, “Alvy, we should do this, this, this, and this,” it becomes quickly evident that you can’t do every bright idea that comes down the pike. You just can’t. You have to prune the tree. And your job as management is to prune the tree and stick to what you know. I still think they blew it, though. Bob Taylor: It’s pretty clear that Xerox fumbled the future.

That is why we do not know where Mama is buried, or if she has a grave at all. The Turks had dragged her away earlier in the day, when we were packed on the roasting quayside; thousands and thousands of terrified people, with the water full of bodies in front of us, and the roaring of the great fire behind. I wish I could forget it; the thunder-heat of the flames, and the sound of the screaming as the Turks took away the young girls and the pretty women, and shot and bayoneted the husbands and fathers and brothers who tried to stop them.

Former slaves and natives. Eskimos and Hiroshima people, Amazonian Indians and Chiapas Indians and Chilean Indians and American Indians and Indian Indians. Australian aborigines, Guatemalans and Colombians and Brazilians and Argentineans, Nigerians, Burmese, Angolans, Peruvians, Ecuadorians, Bolivians, Afghans, Cambodians, Rwan-dans, Filipinos, Indonesians, Liberians, Borneoans, Papua New Guineans, South Africans, Iraqis, Iranians, Turks, Armenians, Palestinians, French Guyanese, Dutch Guyanese, Surinamese, Sierra Leonese, Malagasys, Senegalese, Maldivians, Sri Lankans, Malaysians, Kenyans, Panamanians, Mexicans, Haitians, Dominicans, Costa Ricans, Congoans, Mauritanians, Marshall Islanders, Tahitians, Gabonese, Beninese, Malians, Jamaicans, Botswanans, Burundians, Sudanese, Eritreans, Uruguayans, Nicaraguans, Ugandans, Ivory Coastians, Zambians, Guinea-Bissauans, Cameroonians, Laotians, Zaireans coming at you screaming colonialism, screaming slavery, screaming mining companies screaming banana companies oil companies screaming CIA spy among the missionaries screaming it was Kissinger who killed their father and why don’t you forgive third-world debt; Lumumba, they shouted, and Allende; on the other side, Pinochet, they said, Mobutu; contaminated milk from Nestle, they said; Agent Orange; dirty dealings by Xerox. World Bank, UN, IMF, everything run by white people. Every day in the papers another thing! Nestle and Xerox were fine upstanding companies, the backbone of the economy, and Kissinger was at least a patriot. The United States was a young country built on the finest principles, and how could it possibly owe so many bills? Enough was enough. Business was business. Your bread might as well be left unbuttered were the butter to be spread so thin. The fittest one wins and gets the butter.

None the less some of the young men of the day had begun to turn away from Islam as a political, as distinct from a religious, force. In its place was arising a new concept of nationalism, which put race before religion and saw Turks, for the first time, as Turks. Hitherto the name of Turk had been used, even among Turks themselves, as a term of contempt applicable only to the more menial strata of the Anatolian peasantry. There was even a certain conscious irony in the coining by Kemal, years later, of the patriotic phrase, 'Happy is the man who calls himself a Turk'. But now the name was acquiring a new and more noble significance. Young Turks, in their search for fresh roots, began to reach back to a racial past in the Central Asian steppes. Here, where they were Turks before they were Ottomans and Moslems, they would surely find a common social and cultural heritage on which to build a common future.