| reform have been even more so. One of the most difficult tasks of the muhtar is the collection of the village tax - the rates, one might call it in English. Government taxes are collected by government officials, with the muhtar’s official presence, but the money for the village chest is collected directly by him. For these reasons, the job is far from coveted, and sometimes there is even difficulty in finding anyone to take it on. Most of the muhtars I encountered were young men. Mustafa (son of AM) was only about thirty-five, and his predecessor had been even younger. Sometimes a young man like Mustafa, who is fond of his own importance and insensitive to his neighbour’s feelings, actively enjoys his duties, but the more self respecting and the older villagers do not want the job and despite those who do. These young men, who only hold office because their elders and betters have no wish to do so, have no power or prestige in village affairs, outside the carrying out of their duties, and even in these they depend on official support from above. They cannot act as leaders in the village, nor have they any weight as arbitrators in case of disputes and fights. From the point of view of internal affairs the village has no political head. Certain situations lead to a spontaneous consultation and even joint action; for example, a question about the village accounts, which I shall describe below, or a border quarrel with another village, which may lead to an armed expedition in defence. But in these cases the muhtar carries no weight in respect of his office, and has little chance of influencing the conduct of his fellows, except by threatening to call in the gendarms, which he would hardly dare to do without the general support of village opinion. The muhtar’s odd jobs during my stay included a revision of the numbering of village houses, the preparation of the electoral roll for the village, arrangements for the making of a set of school desks, and for the enlargement of the school building, and finding somewhere for me to live. The numbering of village houses is typical of an official order with which, being a conspicuous matter, the village must comply. These numbers serve only the purpose of filling up the column for house number on official forms, the village making absolutely no use of them, since everyone knows where everyone else lives. Yet they all had to find ten piastres (3d.) for a new number plate, provided by the authorities. Small as the sum was, the muhtar had some difficulty in collecting all contributions. In August 1950, throughout Turkey, elections for Muhtar were held. In Sakaltutan, for the first time, an official came out from the town to supervise, and see that a proper election was held. Only once before had an election for muhtar been held, and that some fifteen years ago, to force out of office an |
| unpopular muhtar. The village law lays it down that the muhtar shall be elected by all men and women over eighteen, but in practice the invariable custom, unless an election is imposed, is for an unofficial gathering of the more senior village men to decide on anyone who is willing to undertake the duties. If more than one is willing, then whoever will accept least money is chosen. It is not considered by the village to matter much who is muhtar so long as he does not cause trouble, or attempt undue extortions. The “election” of the new muhtar was of this type in two neighbouring villages where no official showed up to act as supervisor. In Sakaltutan, a model election was held, with a secret ballot. In spite of much talk, when the official arrived in was still not clear who was going to stand. The Lower Quarter had persuaded Selahaddin (BA 4) to stand, in spite of his protests that a poor man could not do the task worthily, and in the end the Upper Quarter, realising, I suspect, that a split vote would mean a Lower Quarter victory, also put forward only one candidate. Though the issue was mainly Upper Quarter versus Lower Quarter, it was also to a limited extent a clash between Haci Ahmet (SA 2), who through his sister’s sons (BA), would have helped and influenced Selahaddin and Haci Ali (DT 1), who will lend similar support and exercise similar influence over Duran, his kinsman. But this issue was comparatively unimportant - without a formal election, Duran would probably have taken office unopposed. Soon after the election had begun, a large party from the Upper Quarter arrived at the school, which was used as the polling booth, and went in to vote. An argument started inside, and soon everyone was talking very loudly at cross purposes. The retiring muhtar, Mustafa, was saying he would willingly carrying on in office on half the allowance, and there was a general cry of “away with elections, let whoever will do the job cheapest, take it”. A large group went off as though intending to boycott the election, but I noticed that they came back to vote one by the one later in the day. In Ac village, a similar disturbance actually stopped the election, and gendarmes were fetched to restore order before it could proceed. This indifference, even opposition, to a properly conducted election for the office reflects clearly its unimportance from the village point of view. The muhtar has, in fact, become simply the government spokesman of the village, and in most villages he is no longer, in any sense, the village leader, nor thought of as such. |
| 3. | The Council of Elder |
| By law, every village must have a Council of Elders of four members, with |
| four reserves to take the place of any of the four full members who for any reason are unable to attend the meeting. Since their names have to be reported to the nahiye, and have to appear on every document that is sent from the village to a superior authority, they have to be appointed. They should, by law, meet once a month in any case, and whenever else there is any business for them to transact. They should supervise the muhtar, audit the village accounts, and discuss all village business. In practice, they never meet as a council at all. Each has a stamp made of his name, which the muhtar keeps and uses at his own discretion. The muhtar did, on occasion, ask them individually their opinions on certain matters, if he was in doubt. He also asked their help in time of emergency. One night a man struck a female cousin of his with an axe, because she had used his ox cart without permission. Mustafa, on his way to see what had happened, called in and took Nazim (DT 3), who was one of the members. But normally the muhtar takes any decision and carries out any duties entirely on his own responsibility. When any important business arose, the word would go to the muhtar’s oda to discuss it. Once, visiting the muhtar for another purpose, I found a large gathering in his oda of people not normally in his social group, and discovered that there was trouble over the village funds. This group was the largest and most vociferous I came across, but similar groups formed to discuss such matters as the arrangements for the general election, and the election of muhtar. The Council of Elders, with the muhtar and the village schoolmaster, does in fact have one important function, namely the assessment of villagers for contributions to the village chest, - the rates. For this function, so likely to lead to disputes, it is essential that all the main kabileler should feel themselves adequately represented on the council, and for this reason the four members are chosen from different kabile, and distributed over the whole village. The council should be elected, member by member, by the adult suffrage of the village. In the past they have been decided on in much the same way as the muhtar. In the past they have been decided on in much the same way as the muhtar. In the formal election of the muhtar which I have just described, each candidate for the office of muhtar simply chose eight men, in consultation with his kin and neighbours, and people voted for these en bloc, |
| when voting for muhtar. The candidate had written out lists of them for use as ballots, and the only way to vary the list would have been to write out one’s own list, impossible for most of the village; and no one seems even to have thought of so doing. Both candidates placed the names of Osman (AG 1) and Sevket (VA 4) among the reserves on their list, and so, with votes for both sides, these two became first and second members of the council; but it makes little difference, for, as I have said, the council has only one important duty - the assessment of contributions of the village chest. |
| 4. | Funds and Contributions |
| In the eyes of the village, the most important responsibility of the muhtar is care of public money, called literally the “Village Chest”. apart from minor or special sources, such as rent from anthropologists, this money is contributed by all households according to an assessment carried out by all households according to an assessment carried out by the Council of Elders. The village households are divided into five classes, the maximum legal contribution that can be demanded of the household in a year being 20 T.L. (£2.10s.). In Sakaltutan the contributions for 1949 were said to have been 15, 12, 10, 8 and 5 lira respectively for the five classes. The total contributed came to approximately 800 T.L. (#100). The amount collected varies annually according to needs. Poverty following the bad harvest, and the income from letting a part of the school meant much reduced contributions for 1950. From this sum the muhtar takes his own allowance, meets government charges for stationery supplied to the village, buys the watchman’s clothes, and also meets special village needs, such as school desks, improvements to the water supply, and so on. The only person in the village who both understood sometimes of how to work the books in which the accounts were supposed to be kept, and took any interest in village affairs, was Ali Osman (BK 1). The accounts should have been kept by the muhtar and checked monthly by the Council of Elders, but since the Council never troubled itself, and the muhtar could not read or write, Ali Osman did what was necessary. The muhtar previous to Mustafa (AM) had been Ali (SC 1), Haci Ahmet’s (SA 2) adopted son, who although barely literate had handled |
| the accounts himself. Some months after he had given up the job, he was called upon to hand over the books and the funds. He declared that he had spent all he had collected and that the balance of 500 T.L. was still uncollected. This occasioned a mass meeting of village elders and a lot of shouting and bad temper. Ali Osman found disorder in the accounts, and Ali (SC 1) refused to account in detail for his expenditure. But it all died down, and Ali Osman told me that Ali had paid over 24 T.L. He said there was more to it than that, and that the same sort of thing was true for past years. But, he explained, to press the matter would have meant a serious break in the village, and no one wanted that. In fact, the only way to bring pressure to bear on Ali would have been to have called in the authorities, and the village would be solidly against embroiled itself in a public enquiry into its finances, in which too much might come to light, and which would bring disgrace on the village among its neighbours. It was said that all muhtars profit by their office, and with so haphazard a system of accountancy, it would be hard to prove that this is not the case. Apart from this system, invented and imposed for above, and mainly used to meet official expenditure, there are traditional contributions which do not pass through the village chest, but go direct to the persons concerned. The watchman, the village imam, and the herdsmen all collect their own reward household by household, which is usually paid, and often assessed, in kind, and gathered in annually at the time of threshing. |
| 5. | Other Village Functionaries |
| Every village has by law a watchman, who is responsible for messenger duties, and public menial tasks. In theory he should also act as village policeman. The remuneration of these watchmen is so little that only those who, in spite of serous poverty, do not go to town to work, are prepared to take on the job. The watchman tends to be one of the poorest and most feckless people in the village. He is treated by the muhtar as a personal servant, not only waiting on guests, but also doing other menial tasks less obviously connected with the muhtar’s public duties. His tenure is annual, but the present watchman in Sakaltutan has held office for two or three years, and seems likely to continue unless a new muhtar objects to him. In AC village the |