Resisting Western Exceptionalism

           Just before he is murdered Enishte Effendi raises some important questions: what is immortality worth, and why must the miniaturists succumb to the Frankish style (i.e. western dominance) to become immortal? Enishte admits that “to have one’s face immortalized is through the Frankish style” (170). He goes on to lament the fact that their methods will essentially cease to exist thanks to the alluring Frankish style people seem to be so enthralled by. And even if the miniaturists do dare to imitate the Franks—risking their lives in the process for the sake of perhaps attaining immortality—their works will ultimately fade away.

            Fast forward about 400 years and we see a familiar picture being painted: Western domination and exceptionalism. Enishte asks his murderer, “In this city, where every three years more books and libraries disappear than those the Mongols burned and plundered in Baghdad, what painter could possibly imagine that his masterpiece might last more than a century…?” (171). Except today it is not the Mongols burning and plundering Bagdad, it is the U.S. burning and plundering Bagdad under the guise of democracy. Nothing was done in the aftermath of invading Iraq to protect its masterpieces, fine art, and artifacts held in the museums and galleries; not only were their lives destroyed, but their culture as well.

            While Enishte Effendi’s Istanbul was not currently being physically destroyed by Western forces, Western exceptionalism was taking its toll on his culture. He explains, “Not only our own art, but every single work made in this world over the years will vanish in fires, be destroyed by worms or be lost out of neglect…” (171). Enishte continues to lament—for an entire page—all the stories that will be lost thanks to the notion that the Frankish style should be more revered than his own. He and the others working on the book for the Sultan risk their lives—and more importantly their own culture—to imitate the Frankish style in hopes of achieving a sort of immortality seemingly only achieved by those depicted (and perhaps painting) in that style. What is this immortality worth to these men? They are obviously not only willing to risk their lives, for Enishte Effendi feels his death is inevitable, but their humanity and, sadly, their culture as well. Or is Western exceptionalism so unavoidable that they feel they have no choice but to succumb to its tyrannical influence and might as well risk their lives in hopes of achieving their own personal immortality? And though My Name is Red’s existence is somewhat immortalizing this style and these stories itself, it seems greater actions must take place to combat the notion of Western exceptionalism that seems to plague the past, present, and future.