`Family, Honour, Morality' by Yervant Odian by Eddie Arnavoudian

[Yervant1]

Why we should read...

 

`Family, Honour, Morality' by Yervant Odian

(Selected Works, 796pp, pp5-233, 1956, Armenia)

 

Armenian News Network / Groong

January 21, 2013

 

by Eddie Arnavoudian

 

 

Yervant Odian more famous for his satire 'Comrade Panchooni' wrote

`Family, Honour, Morality', more than one hundred years ago. It

remains today both enjoyable and instructive. A reconstruction of

Armenian life in Istanbul during the late 19th and early 20th

centuries, it is a brutally forthright critique of the corrupt and

dissolute Armenian elite that exercised tyranny over the Ottoman

capital's large Armenian community. This elite of wealthy merchants,

arm-in-arm with the Church hierarchy, both sunk in a moral marsh,

finds its typical representatives in Ghugas Effendi and Father Mikias,

unquestionably two enduring characters of modern Armenian fiction.

 

Like many novels in the realist tradition, `Family, Honour, Morality'

is a stark exposure of the ugly power of money in a society devoid of

egalitarian or democratic structures. In Armenian literature, this

novel has another welcome merit, ironically one born of a certain

flawed narrowness of focus. Depictions of the degenerate elites are

not uncommon in the modern Armenian novel. But Odian's almost

exclusive focus on scenes of immoral and criminal personal and

domestic lives, disregarding the wider social sphere, proves unusually

illuminating.

 

`Family, Honour, Morality' has telling resonance, backwards and

forwards. With this and his other novels of Istanbul life Odian

provides a link in an illustrious tradition - the bold telling of

truths about the Armenian privileged classes - secular and

religious. Then and now they cloak themselves in an aura of virtue and

saintliness only so as to better conceal their misappropriations and

their dissoluteness, and as a means also of retaining the moral high

ground from where to cajole and bully the people into silent

obedience. It is a critical tradition that originates with the 5th

century founders of Armenian historiography and one that is in

desperate need of recovery.

 

Odian's is not however just an acute socio-historic denunciation. The

force of his presentation is sustained by artistic merit that he is

often charged with lacking. A facility for story-telling, simple and

lucid language, a capacity for generating authentic social relations

and characters combined with wit and humour in description, bring

alive Armenian Istanbul along with many a personality, among them the

chief protagonist Ghugas Effendi, a wealthy businessman and sexual

predator who ceaselessly proclaims the virtues of family, honour and

morality, contemptuously tramples upon them all. Even if elsewhere

equalled in modern Armenian literature, Odian's exposure of the

establishment's putrid core has certainly not been bettered.

 

 

I.

 

The contours of elite decadence are visible at the novel's outset when

we encounter the intolerably arrogant and presumptuous Ghugas Effendi

preparing to conduct a vicious vendetta against Satenig, a powerless

and impoverished widow, who had the temerity to detain him on his way

home from chairing a weekly Charity Association meeting. Run together

with this plotline is a constellation of sub-plots, each a window on

Armenian Istanbul's mores, its daily life and most critically on the

immoral physiognomy of its leading lights.

 

Ghugas Effendi is no accidental or isolated figure. Of lowly

beginnings, and a murky past, he is now an influential member of the

Armenian establishment integrated in addition into the highest

echelons of Ottoman society. Mingling with high priest and senior

state officials he is, like them, rotten and crooked to a bone. He is

`wealthy and held ostensibly in great respect' but: `Terrible,

sickening stories circulated about the tragedy of those who had fallen

into the claws of a businessman who had commenced his career as a

usurer and driven by unrestrained greed for wealth had resorted to the

worst possible deeds, especially when dealing with the defenceless,

weak and innocent (p27)'.

 

Having by such means accumulated sufficient capital, `to advance his

banditry' by more legitimate means Ghugas Effendi sets himself up as a

merchant in Istanbul where in a final leap he secures himself the role

of an official supplier to the Ottoman state. In this capacity he

participates enthusiastically in a well-oiled system of corruption and

in `cahoots with dodgy ministers', `begins robbing the state

treasury'. But instead of punishment Ghugas Effendi is repeatedly

decorated for his `honoured services to the state'. Having thus joined

the mainstream:

 

`Parallel to his wealth, his reputation as a clever and honourable

man also rose. Dirty deeds from old times were forgotten, covered

over; no more would the curse of his victims reach the heights of

his honour...' (p27)

 

Eager for a share of the secular elite's plunder, the Church

hierarchy, with one hand holding tight to the merchant's coat tails,

reached shamelessly for his wallet with the other. The merchant elite

was not altogether displeased, for in exchange, the men of god,

abandoning all moral qualm, happily legitimised standing and authority

of the Ghugas Effendis that had taken up leading posts in the

community. Typical among such miscreants is Father Mikias a `senior

priest' `then nearly 60' who has successfully transformed `the

business of chaplaincy to the rich into a personal monopoly'

(p12). `Of course, he expects the full rewards for his services in the

other world' but nevertheless `whilst awaiting heavenly remuneration'

he obtains such material benefits here on earth that `ensure him quite

a luxurious and comfortable life (p12).'

 

Father Mikias is a grisly figure of gross misconduct stalking the

homes of the rich with mind and body ready to leap at profitable

opportunity. Knowing which side his bread is buttered, while `arrogant

and bold towards his inferiors' he is `a hypocrite and crawler' before

the rich and `for this he was loved and respected.' (p12) Ever

calculating profit and loss he has no loyalties. Denied the lucrative

role of intermediary in Ghugas Effendi's plan to marry off his

daughter to the rich Paris-based Armenian jeweller Levon, the slighted

Mikias without compunction turns tables on his former patron. In

expectation of a purse he proceeds to offer his services to the

Samsaryan family also eager to marry their daughter to the same Levon.

 

Thereafter between Ghugas Effendi and Father Mikias tension,

contradiction and animosity surfaces in a silent battle of grasp and

gain. Knowledge of each other's crimes and misdeeds are accumulated as

arsenals of threat and blackmail that produce between the warring

factions of merchant and priest a sort of balance, a peace shame and

fear of exposure that enabled both to better rob everyone else.

 

Protected by contacts in high office and by the hired media happy to

blind public opinion to Ghugas Effendi's crimes and misdeeds and with

wealth and status according him power that `can drown opponents in a

single drop of water', he enjoys virtual immunity when indulging his

depraved sexual criminality. His victims, Satenig, Shushanig, a young

girl he rapes, and Yeranig, his sister-in-law that he abuses, appear to

have no means of redress.

 

 

II.

 

As incident is piled upon incident and revelation follows revelation

in a complex of expertly balanced plot and sub plot, Odian lays bare

the power of money that transforms vice into virtue.

 

Haji Toumig, a charismatic, honest but deceived bar owner in a working

class district together with young and educated Serkis, an energetic

doer and fixer, set about seeking compensation for Satenig whose

reputation Ghugas Effendi has smeared and whose eviction from her home

he has also engineered. Their systematic investigation unearths the

evidence of Ghugas Effendi's rape of Shushanig. Failing to obtain

justice for either, one Sunday morning in a Church courtyard crammed

with worshippers they subject Ghugas Effendi to a humiliating public

denunciation that also brings to light the underbelly of Istanbul's

brothels, pimps and prostitutes that serviced the elite's degenerate

pleasures.

 

Ghugas Effendi however, is only momentarily unbalanced. He has

complete confidence that `money will help cover everything up and

exonerate him'. Indeed as his wife remarks, this would not be the

first time he has `cloaked misdeed with money or influence' (p220). A

short while later we meet him relaxed and content: `I have once again

fallen on my feet, he thought to himself. So here and there they will

eat us up, for a few weeks they will gossip about us. Let them bark as

much as they want as soon as I dispose of a few hundred pounds as a

gift to some orphanage, some hospital or charity, a few pounds to the

newspapers too, I shall then once again become, and even more so, the

honourable Ghugas Effendi (p137)'.

 

Sprawling plot and narrative, conditioned in part by requirements of

serialisation, do frequently test the reader's patience. Thinned out

development, often bowing under the weight of immaterial detail

endangers flow and continuity, while characters do not always stand on

their own two feet, often lacking emotional or psychological

completeness. Shushanig and Satenig, for example, the two main female

characters, are shadows, almost faceless, serving only as highlighters

of Ghugas Effendi's criminal monstrosity.

 

Nevertheless within the terms of the plot, though possessed of a

pronounced limp, characters remain upright and so plot and sub-plots

keep turning, at moments driven by genuine dramatic tension, by

gripping immediacy, biting satire and many a turn of phrase or comment

that captures something revealing not just about the decadent elite

but about the daily life of the common people who contrary to their

elites do live lives of honour and morality; about the position of

mother-in-laws fearful that a son's new wife will undermine their

power and authority; about the transformation of marriage into a

financial transaction where profit and loss account for everything and

love nothing.

 

`Family, Honour, Morality' is additionally generous with the images of

Istanbul life, its coffee and wine bars, its Armenian café owners and

artisans and its white collar workers - accountants, clerks and

secretaries. Interestingly, the manual working class however - the

porters, fire fighters, fishermen, carpenters and others who appear in

numbers in Yeroukhan's short stories - are largely absent.

 

Two thirds into the novel, in a series of twists, turns and secret

negotiations all the plot's knots appear to have been cut, albeit in

somewhat romantic fashion. Ghugas Effendi has once again escaped

justice having paid out a private settlement to Shushanig. Satenig is

a widow no more, happily married to her one time lodger Karekin, while

Shushanig ties the knot with Serkis who has become her champion. Levon,

and Ghugas Effendi's daughter, Rozig rush off to marry in Paris where

they are later joined by Levon's mother.

 

 

III.

 

At this point the reader cannot but fear that the remainder of the

novel will be intolerably dull. But not so! Out of the blue, as if he

has suddenly remembered an important omission, Odian turns now to a

dramatic account of Ghugas Effendi's entrapment and sexual abuse of

his sister in law Yeranig, an account that not only completes the

picture of the man's utter depravity but additionally underlines the

barbarism of women's oppression within the highest reaches of society

too.

 

Yeranig is a significant contrast to Ghugas Effendi's other two female

victims. Whilst Satenig and Shushanig do eventually escape Ghugas

Effendi's grasp, it is only through the efforts of men, of Serkis,

Karekin and Haji Toumik. Yeranig however is no passive victim. A

powerful woman caught in impossible economic straits, when driven to

the edge she summons the will to resist the man who has planned `to

keep her as an object for his pleasures.' (p203) Her self-driven

revolt is a fine affirmation of human independence and dignity even at

the precipice of total disintegration.

 

Demonstrating ability, and not for the first or last time, to delve

into emotional and psychological depths, Odian movingly communicates

that `unusual energy and will power' that Yeranig feels once having

determined to assert her dignity. (p207). Soon after her `decisive

arrangements' to break from her tormentor `a sort of spiritual ease

and joy' descends upon her. Touched by a sense of exhilaration and

pride she thinks it `impossible that anything in the world could

possibly stop her from carrying out her decisions (p215).' In these

same passages Odian offers us some sharp images of Ghugas Effendi's

impotent rage when his rich man's sense of entitlement is thwarted by

challenge and disobedience of those occupying a lower social station

than his own. A fine reflection indeed of the arrogance and

presumption of the privileged.

 

`Family, Honour, Morality' reaches an entirely satisfactory conclusion

when Ghugas Effendi dies, days after a night of debauchery during

which he is stabbed in a dispute, maybe with a pimp, at one of his

favourite brothels. Despite previous public exposure, despite the

sordid circumstances of his life and death, in an act of

self-preservation the entire Armenian establishment with an outpouring

of false grief and sickening glorification, coalesce and solidify

around Ghugas Effendi.

 

Ghugas Effendi's crimes are but the tip of an iceberg of establishment

degeneration. To protect itself, to preserve its moral mask and to

fend off criticism or challenge from society, Ghugas Effendi's life

must once again be whitewashed, refurbished and wall-papered. So his

funeral became a celebration of collective hypocrisy and deceit with:

 

`All well-known merchants and capitalists, as well as foreigners

holding important positions in the commercial world present. The

ceremony was led by the Patriarch, together with six Bishops, 14

reverends and 30 parish priests. The oration was given by the

Patriarch, who as his theme opened with the Biblical phrase `A man

after the heart of God.' (p230)

 

Engraved upon Ghugas Effendi's tombstone was an encomium in verse

written by none other than Father Mikias who was rewarded handsomely

so for the privilege.

 

The entire affair is parcelled and wrapped up by the press that

enthusiastically fills column upon column with encomiums to a man

`whose passing' it is claimed `represents an irrecoverable loss' for

the community, to one who though a `modest man' was of `high

intellect', to a `model husband and father' who `brought up two

beautiful daughters' who can proudly `decorate the Armenian nation.'

 

 

IV.

 

`Family, Honour, Morality' is a fine novel, as literary work and

social history. It is marked however besides its artistic limits - the

incompleteness of character, the frequently insubstantial plot and a

damaging generality, that we need not turn to here - by too many other

troubling issues to earn space on the same shelf as Yeroukhan's

classic novel of Armenian Istanbul `The Amira's Daughter'.

 

Throughout there is a deeply inauthentic chord, a constant

undercurrent of contempt for the poor, a persistent misrepresentation

that depicts them repeatedly, and with little or no qualification, as

an undeserving, parasitic class lacking any pride or ambition, and in

which benefit cheats and fraudsters form a substantial percentage.

Were these the views of Ghugas Effendi alone one would not bat an

eyelid. But they are presented as those of the common people too and

seep in addition into authorial commentary. Yet the one poor person we

actually meet defies such representation.

 

The widowed Satenig is `poor' but she is `at the same time proud.' `Oh

my god, can such incongruity really be imagined?' asks Odian.

Evidently not by Odian himself! So much so that he presents Satenig as

an exceptional figure, as one who proves the rule as it were. Satenig

is poor. But she is `an extraordinary poor person' (p47), one so

unusual that even `the other poor did not look upon (her) with a

friendly eye.' She is even set apart in her social status, not one of

the mass, but a teacher's wife. Perhaps these Victorian prejudices

that swarm through the volume tainted the more privileged Armenian

middle and higher classes of Istanbul into which Odian was born. It

bears future pondering.

 

The most eye catching pothole however is the narrowness in the

depiction of Ghugas Effendi and the Armenian community in which he

lives. Indubitably a powerfully ugly, arrogant, vice-ridden presence,

Ghugas Effendi's portrait is limited to his private life and to his

relations within an isolated and almost ghetto-like Armenian

community. Both are as a result left lop-sided. In the Ottoman capital

the Ghugas Effendis and indeed the wider Armenian community co-existed

with Turks, Greeks, Jews and others. Abstracted from this wider

context, neither community and nor more specifically elite can be

adequately comprehended, especially in the era the novel is set.

 

Through the Ottoman Empire and in Istanbul particularly, the Armenian

business class existed alongside and was indeed critically fashioned

and defined by competitive war with representatives of other national

economic units. Yet we never see Ghugas Effendi in his relations with

his Turkish, Greek or Jewish business counterparts. Indeed we even

have no idea of the concrete nature of his own business. Nor do we see

him in those bent and subservient political relations to the Ottoman

state that Armenian merchant capital largely adopted, even as the

Armenian nation was being systematically destroyed and Armenian

capital undermined. As significant is the silence on the Armenian

elite's complicated relations to the Armenian National Liberation

Movement.

 

Odian is not of course required to reconstruct the merchant elite in

its totality. Indeed his preferred ambit is suggested in the novel's

very title `Family, Honour, Morality'. But set in an age of

accentuated nationalist ambitions and economic antagonisms that were

to lead to the Armenian genocide and the confiscation of Armenian

capital, narrowing its scope to private lives leaves us in the dark

about the manner in which the wider and more decisive tides and forces

shaped the fate of Armenian capital and its Ghugas Effendis. Perhaps

for the finality of the genocide, Ghugas Effendi's portrayal would

have been completed in a sequel.

 

In his private persona however Ghugas Effendi has been caught well as

the wealthy but intemperate, egotistical, vengeful, smirking,

self-satisfied, scheming monster possessed of a decisive, quick and

sharp mind but at the same time morally degenerate and almost

psychopathic. Here a parvenu representative of the elite possessed of

deepest contempt for the common people who resents rubbing shoulders

with them even in Church where all are supposedly equal before their

God.

 

A significant literary work despite shortcomings and lacunae, `Family,

Honour, Morality', as an exposure of moral decay does not fail to

remind us of our own shameless businessmen, politicians and public

figures who also bray on about the sanctity of family, virtue and

morality whilst mocking them in their own lives. A story of money and

status protecting sexual predators beyond the very grave, the novel

can hardly fail to additionally remind us of the countless moral

scandals that surface from among the rich and wealthy in every age.

 

 

--

Eddie Arnavoudian holds degrees in history and politics from

Manchester, England, and is Groong's commentator-in-residence on

Armenian literature. His works on literary and political issues

have also appeared in Harach in Paris, Nairi in Beirut and Open

Letter in Los Angeles.