EARLY IDEALIST THEORIES AND THE NEW ECLECTIC METHODOLOGIES
The Ottoman Empire evolved from a politically irrelevant principality to the predominant powerhouse of the Middle East, controlling the Islamic world and gaining hegemony over much of Eastern Europe for centuries. Their decision to conquer Orthodox Christendom, and their place in history as the only Islamic state to do so, creates speculation on their original imperial intentions for the region. Scholars have reached back to the early development of the Ottoman state, in hopes of unearthing new clues that point to possible causes for their meteoric rise and dominance. The chronology of Ottoman historiography in this essay will follow an evolution of two main conflicting methodologies: what I will refer to as the “first generation” (1910s-1930s), which encompasses Western scholars Herbert Albert Gibbons (U.S.) and Paul Wittek (Austria) and their Turkish opponent, Mohammed Fuad Köprülü; and the “new generation” (1980s-), comprised of well-revered scholars Rudi Paul Lindner (U.S.) and Cemel Kafadar (Turkey). Ottoman historiography is mainly centered around two subjects: either the rise of the Ottoman Empire, or its fall. This essay will focus on the former. The works of Wittek, Gibbons, and Köprülü are foundational in the research of early Ottoman historiography, as they each offer unique interpretations that influenced later scholars. A large part of the scholarly debate that developed roughly 70-80 years ago is focused on the Ghazi Thesis, a theory created by Wittek that claims that Ottoman expansionism and warfare was a product of Islamic fundamentalist aggression. The Ghazi Thesis became popular among European historians of the Middle East, but the real value in examining it, apart from identifying it as a past historiographic trend, is in comparing Wittek’s methodology and sources with his critics. Understanding the historiography of the Ottoman Empire provides us with a clear dichotomy between idealist methods that rely too heavily on misinterpreted literary sources, and the “new generation” approach that studies a wider array of aspects of Ottoman culture, with more emphasis on source criticism.
On the one hand, studying Ottoman historiography reveals that European narratives dominated the scholarship for a long time, an unfortunate reality that young historians have observed when researching other cultural histories. However, a possible uniqueness with Ottoman historiography is the relationship between Turkish and Western scholars over time. This dichotomy is not limited to geography: we see it take shape in each sides’ respective writing methods. European Ottoman historians focus on the defense and resistance of the Eastern Europeans to Ottoman rule; conversely, Turkish secondary sources highlight glorious victories and the success of Ottoman conquest and administration. As a result, much of the early Ottoman historiography focused solely on political and military narratives. A consensus that all scholars mentioned in this paper reach, however, is that the primary sources for the Ottoman genesis are dubious at best. Therefore, the selective focus of older methodologies on unreliable primary sources allowed for the development of flawed hypotheses and findings. Luckily, the times have changed and, due to a more comprehensive approach to research and access to new source material, Western and Turkish historians agree on what sources are valid. Therefore, the main difference in later historiography is in interpretation.
The First Generation: Gibbons, Ghazis, and Köprülü
Although Paul Wittek and his “Ghazi Thesis” became the more well-known European “Orientalist scholar”, an earlier contributor to Ottoman history, H.A. Gibbons, laid a methodological framework that Wittek would later follow. H.A. Gibbons was an American journalist and academic, who wrote on the Ottomans 20 years prior to Wittek’s most popular publications. Forced conversion and treatment of non-Muslim subjects of the Ottomans was a seminal topic in Foundation of the Ottoman Empire. Gibbons links both Ottoman cultural identity and military exploits with its relationship with Islam. This is the first time we see a strong connection between the Ottomans and religiosity. His hypothesis on the origins of the Ottomans are different from that of Wittek, but the crux of his interpretation is that religious fanaticism was a notable characteristic of the Ottomans, and that their growth as a nation and empire relied on forced conversion to Islam. The “Islamization” of Balkan Christians by the Ottomans, coerced conversion that otherwise resulted in slavery, was a key element to the administrative rule of the Ottomans. Gibbons’ belief that the Ottomans’ motives in war were primarily religious is a historiographic trend that Wittek’s work built upon. As we will see, Wittek also relies on sources rooted in oral tradition, with some vague material evidence – another method he possibly picked up from Gibbons. Gibbons himself asserts that, “where authenticated facts are lacking, traditions must be examined and carefully weighed.” The overvaluing of vague oral traditions of the Turks became a large point of criticism for both Wittek and Gibbons.
One of the staunchest critics of Gibbons was Mohammed Fuad Köprülü, a Turkish statesman and intellectual. While not professionally trained in History, Köprülü’s work as a Turkish and Ottoman historian is well-received by those in the field, and his research on the Ottomans is widely used by present-day historians. Fellow Ottoman historian Gary Leiser lauds Köprülü as “the father of modern, scientific Turkish research on the culture and history of the Turks.” Köprülü characterizes his European contemporaries, mainly Gibbons, as too dependent on the legendary and mythic sources on the Ottoman inception. This unscientific approach prompted Köprülü to pen Origins of the Ottoman Empire, published in 1935, as a response to Gibbons and as a general critique of Western Ottoman scholars. Köprülü pulls no punches in his criticism of Gibbons: “…[to] attempt to explain such a great and important historical event solely by a religious factor, this is, by ‘a one-sided explanation,’ is contrary to the complexity of historical reality and is always inadequate.” The danger of pigeonholing the Ottomans as just another Islamic state is twofold: first, the overemphasis on the Ottomans as religious warriors delegitimizes their other motives, causes, and reasons for success in their empire-building. Second, it casts a very nondescript portrait of Ottoman culture, which was unique ethnically, administratively, and militarily compared to its surrounding Arab and Turkic neighbors. By ignoring sources and records on various aspects of Ottoman social life, Gibbons fails to create a comprehensive image of Ottoman society, which leaves his conclusions about their philosophy for warfare incomplete. To sum up, Köprülü believes Gibbons’ work is methodologically lazy.
Although Köprülü’s criticism of Gibbons would lead to a larger debate between how sources should be used in Ottoman Studies, Austrian historian Paul Wittek would work in the same framework as Gibbons to create the most popular thesis among European Ottoman scholars. Professionally trained at the University of Vienna, Wittek conducted lectures and researched at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, England, with a focus on China and the Middle East. Wittek made waves in academia with well-attended lectures in France and England in the mid-late 1930s and published the content of those lectures in The Rise of the Ottoman Empire. With this work, he inserted himself in the Gibbons/Köprülü debate, lauding Gibbons for his assessment of the earliest sources as “dubious”. He criticizes Köprülü’s work as lacking in a distinct explanation of how the Ottomans imperialized. His main argument contends that expansion of Islam and conversion of non-believers was the main, if not the sole, reason for Ottoman imperialism. This argument became popularized as the “Ghazi Thesis”: widely accepted and supported among Western academics, but never gained traction among Turkish scholars. “Ghazi”, or “gazi”, is an Arabic term for a Muslim who wages war against “infidels”, or non-Muslims. Wittek uses this term as the name of his thesis due to his identification of the Ottomans as a community of religious warriors, specifically “ghazis”. It is worth noting that the use of the terms “religious warrior”, “ghazi”, and “infidel” are legitimate terms derived from Islamic sources, and not terms fashioned by European sources to further militarize notions of medieval Muslims. That fact aside, how Wittek and his colleagues used the term ghazi still misrepresents their actual role in Ottoman history. Wittek uses the term to place immense importance on the devoutness of the Ottomans, the foundation for his connection between the Ottomans and the term “ghazi”. “In world history this empire of the Ottomans represents, above all, the dominant Muslim power of modern times, from the beginning of the modern period up to recent years,” writes Wittek.
What proof does Wittek have to show the Ottoman-ghazi connection? Wittek first references a primary source, early Ottoman poet and chronicler Taceddin Ahmedi. “Ahmedi gives use a very exact idea as to what the Ottomans felt about themselves and their state – that they were a community of “Ghazis”, of champions of the Mohammedan religion; a community of Muslim march-warriors, devoted to the struggle with the infidels in their neighborhood.” Ghazi’s are not just warriors who happen to be Muslim, their service is bound to Islam and, to use Ahmedi’s words, the “sword of God”. Establishing that religious devotion was an intrinsic part of the Ottoman war machine, Wittek digs deeper by showing how the Ottomans directed this fanaticism in the form of intense conflict with the Christian kingdoms and states inhabiting Western Anatolia and the Balkans. “Here at the frontier, and in the milieu of the ghazis, this [religious] enthusiasm soon took on the forms of a fanatic resolve to war against the infidel.” It was religious zeal that catalyzed the Ottoman invasion of the ailing Byzantine Empire and then the Balkans, posits Wittek. Fundamental conflict with non-Muslims was a key casus bello for the Ottomans.
Wittek relies on Ahmedi for much of his “proof”: “the only [Ottoman Tradition] which stands the test of historical criticism [Ahmedi’s chronicle], clearly shows the Ottomans as ghazis and their chiefs as leaders of an ever-growing and powerful ghazi organization.” His next big piece of evidence comes in the form of a religious inscription from a 1337 mosque. “In this inscription, the Ottoman ruler gives himself the following titles: Sultan, Son of the Sultan of the Ghazis, Ghazi, son of Ghazi, marquis of the horizons, hero of the world.” The self-identification of Sultan Orhan, the Ottoman sovereign at that time, as a ghazi within the context of a religious building is specific enough for Wittek.
Both Gibbons and Wittek overvalue the significance of religion in the Ottoman rise. On a more concerning level, Gibbons and Wittek use strictly anecdotal evidence to support each of their individual claims. Neither historians utilize a variety of sources across different social strata to show evidence for their ideas. Their methods lack broader historical perspective. Köprülü discounts their findings by identifying the weaknesses of their main sources. Köprülü reveals that Gibbons cannot read untranslated Turkish works, which means he is strictly using sources available in English. He targets the validity of sources used by Gibbons and Wittek, labelling them “misread and misunderstood texts which are relied upon uncritically.”
It must be noted that Köprülü cannot address the Ghazi thesis as it had not yet been conceived at the time of his writing The Origins of the Ottoman Empire. Still, his criticisms of Gibbons can also apply to Wittek. Bringing up the aforementioned Taccedin Ahmedi among other poets, Köprülü warns that using these literary figures for legitimate research, who “relied themselves heavily on oral tradition or on purposefully fabricated tales” is inadequate. Imagine using the Homeric epics to draw conclusions about Greek culture: they can provide plenty of cultural context, but their place within a chronological historical context is limited. To summarize Köprülü’s argument against Gibbons and Wittek: idealist historians of the west, intentionally or not, have created an overgeneralized view of the Ottomans and used their lack of source material as a cop out. Köprülü goes a step further by identifying Western Ottoman historiography in the early 1900s as, “very poor, simplistic, and usually contradictory”. Essentially, the Ghazi Thesis is an example of misleading history.
What does Köprülü offer in his own approach of Ottoman history? What makes his methodology better than Gibbons or Wittek? He contends that the perceived lack of source material is not a viable excuse for overdependence on unreliable sources. Köprülü finds little value in sources based in myth, religious significance, or of minor military implications. To study these sources, only surface level questions about the Ottomans and their culture may be answered. Köprülü outlines his methodology as such: “[Historians should] do research on the changes of the inner life of this society rather than show the continuous transformations on its surface. We must place more, or at least as much, importance on other kinds of documents [apart from the chroniclers] to create a historical synthesis by trying to determine…the evolution of its religious, legal, economic, and artistic institutions more than its political and military events.” The way in which Köprülü believes that history should be unearthed is much more similar to 21st century trends in scholarship among empire studies. A departure from the research methods of Gibbons and Wittek, with their heavy reliance on religious oral tradition and faulty material remnants, will be a pattern that the next generation of scholars will follow.
The New Generation: Critics of the Ghazi Thesis
An emerging trend over time in mainstream Ottoman Studies was a complete rejection of the Ghazi Thesis. For the reasons why this happened, and where the scholarship began to change, we look two historians: Cemel Kafadar, hailing from Turkey originally and Professor of Turkish Studies and History at Harvard University; and Rudi Paul Lindner, an American scholar who received his doctorate from University of California, Berkeley and is Professor Emeritus at the University of Michigan. Kafadar has written books and essays on a wide array of Ottoman social history, from inter-cultural encounters within the empire to “leisure and pleasure” in early modern Istanbul. His broad focus of studies on Ottoman history enables him to have a pulse on the state of source material availability and what patterns have existed and faded. Kafadar’s 1995 publication, Between Two Worlds: The Construction of the Ottoman State, addresses the methodologies of the first generation and gives a strong analysis of the bigger implications of their disputes and debates. Colleague Suraiya Faroqhi explains his intentions best: “Kafadar is largely concerned with the manner in which facts and intellectual constructs have been discussed by twentieth-century historians.”
Kafadar begins his chronicling of 20th century Ottoman historiography by echoing Köprülü’s sentiments towards Gibbons’ lacksadaisical approach: “Gibbons not only used parts of Ottoman historiographic tradition but even chose to rely on a particularly dubious element of it for his most pivotal argument.” To elaborate this argument against Gibbons, Kafadar references an incriminating quote by Gibbons: “In the absence of contemporary evidence, we must make our own judgement about Osman and what he accomplished.” The hypocrisy of Gibbons is revealed in full: Gibbons relies on dubious sources when convenient for his assumptions and dismisses sources that are unhelpful to him. Köprülü’s methodology is much more empirical by comparison.
In addressing the Ghazi Thesis, Kafadar brings context to the state of scholarship during Wittek’s time. “To present Wittek’s thesis as the consensus of the whole field, as some of his critics tend to do, would be to overlook the scholarly community in Turkey and to some extent the Balkans, where the Köprülü -Gibbons controversy was more important.” As for the Ghazi Thesis itself, Kafadar takes aim at Wittek’s sources. Kafadar mentioned Wittek’s two main sources, Taccedin Ahmedi and the 1337 mosque inscription that label the Ottomans as “ghazis”. He believes that Wittek’s use of these two sources, often claimed to be the earliest Ottoman records, unveils a dangerously selective approach to source analysis. Kafadar seems to agree with the critics of the Ghazi Thesis that the idea of ghazis playing a large role in the creation and evolution of an Ottoman identity and state is wildly idealistic. Lindner more directly targets the source usage of Wittek in his 1983 book, Nomads and Ottomans in Medieval Anatolia. Lindner asserts that the 1337 mosque inscription does not reflect “the true stimulus behind early Ottoman history”, and was used by later historians to “romanticize the pragmatism” of early Ottoman rulers.”
Turning now to Köprülü, Kafadar identifies the stark differences in methodology between Köprülü and his two Western contemporaries. Köprülü clearly is not in alignment with Wittek or his emphasis on the ghazis as a critical backdrop for the formation of Ottoman ethnic identity and their imperial aspirations. “Köprülü looked on [14th century Anatolia] as a broad canvas composed of a variety of social forces (tribesfolk, warriors, bureacrats, scholars, etc.), all of whom made their own significant contribution to the state-building potential of the Turco-Muslim principalities, [which includes the Ottomans].” As mentioned before, Köprülü looked for expanding scholarship beyond the politico-military obsession of the Western scholars to create a most “synthetic” history of the Ottomans. Kafadar qualifies his analysis of the first generation or historians by pointing out the nationalistic milieu that overshadowed their work in the early 20th Century. Kafadar is not alone in this observation: Lindner also believes that Wittek’s thesis “accords well with certain popular notions during the interwar years [in Central Europe].” Even Köprülü’s perspective is not absolved of bias. After all, Köprülü himself was descended from the Ottoman Grand Vizer Köprülü Mehmed Pasha on his father’s side.
What Kafadar sees in Köprülü is the early introduction of a new methodology in studying Ottoman history: one that is critical of sources, looks at various facets of Ottoman social and cultural life, and delineates from the generalized, unscientific observations of Wittek and Gibbons. Kafadar’s main problem with Wittek and Gibbons is that they create open-ended ideas and theories that are proven only from the use of selective facts or sources. In fairness, Kafadar claims that in a more comprehensive historiography, the Ghazi Thesis is not totally useless. “It can be incorporated into a matrix of factors that included material ones even if Wittek himself seemed reluctant to do so.” He concludes that while over-significance placed on ghazis and religious warfare is problematic, it still has a place in the Ottoman story. A coexistence between the scientific approach of Köprülü and ideological elements of Wittek and Gibbons could therefore still contribute meaningfully to create a fuller portrait of Ottoman historiography.
State of Scholarship: Recent Collaborations and Developments
By the time of Kafadar’s Between Two Worlds, many historians had already detracted from the Ghazi Thesis and opted for a more broad-based approach. Another reason why the old style of narrative history had waned was because Turkish and Western scholars began to work together more closely. Understanding that the Ottoman Empire met its end as recent as the 1920s, it makes sense that the earlier historians were more reluctant to work together with postwar European/Balkan/Turkish nationalism affecting the perspectives of East and West. Consensus among methodologies has not been reached, but the volatility and lack of productive communication between differing perspectives has since given way to more collaborative approaches. New discoveries and wider access to source material, such as the Ottoman archives, became available to historians in the mid-1900s. Many new volumes of Ottoman history have emerged as a result of multinational efforts from Western and Turkish historians. This cooperation provides more apolitical analyses of Ottoman history.
One such collaboration was the 2010 publication The Cambridge History of Turkey, a comprehensive, four-volume history that spans from the Byzantine Empire’s occupation of Anatolia to the development of Turkey as a Republican nation-state. In an ironic twist, English editor Kate Fleet is a member of the same institution, the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in London, that employed Wittek decades prior. Chapter 4: Anatolia, 1300-1451, written by the aforementioned Rudi Paul Lindner, will be used to contextualize how methodology and hypothesis about Ottoman origins have changed. Lindner had written about the Ottomans for decades before this publication and is one of the historians who originally led the shift away from the Ghazi Thesis.
The confidence with which he dismisses the methodology of Wittek’s ideas in the much later 2010 contribution to the Cambridge History are representative of how much the field has changed. “The framework we have lost is that of Professor Paul Wittek, followed by many and in recent years adjusted slightly in the hope of responding to a larger base of evidence and avoiding certain claims that now appear dated.” Lindner writes, “it is probably safe to suggest that at the moment there is no agreed point of reference about which most scholars gather, and that a more eclectic approach, resting more on the sources than on scholarly tradition, holds the field.”
Lindner begins his history by identifying the focus question of his research: of all the Turkic beyliks in Anatolia in the 1300s, why were the Ottomans the most successful? Lindner clarifies that early Ottoman source material is scant and unlikely true. He adds that cross-referencing any early Ottoman sources with the sources from the Byzantines or other neighboring beyliks provide little clarity. Lindner has no interest in discursive tangents regarding what tribe the Ottomans descended from: he shares assumptions from a few different sources on their possible inception. Wittek, Köprülü, and Gibbons all gave differing ideas about the ethnic origins of the Ottomans, bickering perhaps senselessly over which specific tribe of Turkish nomads Osman I had descended from. Lindner, maybe in the interest of time and word count, forgoes a deep dive and decides that “Ottoman history begins with Osman I”, and not a small Turkish tribe displaced from the Eurasian steppe. Lindner seems to rely on Byzantine primary sources, tempering their validity with other records or evidence otherwise. Lindner shies away from using the most dubious primary sources as the foundation for his history. With the knowledge of a 21st century Ottoman scholar, he simply knows better: “A problem arises from the nature of the early Ottoman chronicles, which, it is now clear, contain a fair amount of folk tradition.” Lindner follows a methodology more similar to that of Köprülü. He creates a synthetic narrative that includes economic, religious, and social sub-questions: What was the economic status of Osman and his army? What sources are there for early Ottoman administration? Is there any surviving early Ottoman art from this period (1300s)? What was the religious orientation of the Ottomans and the inhabitants of their land? He strictly examines how the surrounding circumstances could have influenced Ottoman tendencies and their eventual success as an empire. His framework, while not perfectly outlined for us, appears more modern and eclectic, and less idealist.
According to Ottoman historian Virginia Aksan of Canada, the scientific approach suggested by Kafadar and Lindner is becoming common across the scholarship. In her 2014 article, What’s Up in Ottoman Studies? Aksan gives her encouraging assessment of the direction of research methodologies. “Cultural conversations are important, negotiations acknowledged in all periods, and most importantly, non-Muslim and Muslim individuals exist, have agency, and do experience change. Thematic approaches bring new reflections on the east/west circulation of peoples, material culture, and ideas.” Aksan shows that the latest focus of Ottoman history is more akin to that of Kafadar and Lindner than the first generation. “Power, processes, and violence continue as topics in global history, and may be one way historians, at least, cope with the simple horror of current events, but the shift is very largely to the human side of history—what happens to peoples across time.”
Analysis and Conclusions
A fitting Sherlock Holmes quote pulled by Ottoman historian Colin Imber reads “it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.” Lacking synthesis and full of generalizations, the Ghazi Thesis has lost the idealistic appeal it had when nationalistic politics were at play. Another unfortunate observation when reading Wittek and Gibbons is that the European and American historians respected their Turkish colleagues but did not value their contributions. The shift away from regressive ideas about the Ottomans and Islam is not a phenomenon limited to Ottoman historiography across the timeline covered in this essay. The dissipation of friction between the Turks and Westerners occurring in the decades after Köprülü, Wittek and Gibbons is unique in circumstance, but the collaboration between Turkish and non-Turkish historians today is also a by-product of the progressive evolution of the field itself.
The one point of agreement each of the secondary sources mentioned is the unreliability of early Ottoman sources. Coming to grips with the reality that very few of these sources in the 1300s can be trusted was spurred on by the work of the first generation. It was Köprülü, Gibbons, and Wittek who each made that analysis in their own separate ways, and the new generation now hail this as factual. Among the new generation’s contributions, there is a sullen tone of futility in the discussion of early Ottoman sources. Instead of making ambiguous claims about the genealogical origins of Osman I, today’s Ottoman scholars look for distinct evidence along economic, social, and cultural lines to learn more about the Ottoman success. Current historians in the field are far less presumptive. They offer qualified interpretations of cloudy events, yet are more transparent with their approach. If the question cannot be approached scientifically, then their analysis is qualified to avoid being labelled as “conjectural”. Most readers would agree that the more eclectic and honest methodologies of the new generation lend to a more enriched story of the Ottomans.
Aksan, Virginia H. "What's Up in Ottoman Studies?" Journal of the Ottoman and Turkish Studies Association, vol. 1, no. 1-2 (2014): 3-21. Accessed December 1, 2020. doi:10.2979/jottturstuass.1.1-2.3.
Faroqhi, Suraiya. Approaching Ottoman History: An Introduction to the Sources. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999.
Gibbons, H.A. The Foundation of the Ottoman Empire. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1916.
Kafadar, Cemel. Between Two Worlds: The Construction of the Ottoman State. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995.
Köprülü, M. Fuat. The Origins of the Ottoman Empire, translated by Gary Leiser. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992.
Lindner, Rudi Paul. “Chapter 4: Anatolia 1300-1451.” In The Cambridge History of Turkey. Edited by Kate Fleet. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013.
Lindner, Rudi Paul. Nomads and Ottomans in Medieval Anatolia. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983.
Wittek, Paul. The Rise of the Ottoman Empire. London: Royal Asiatic Society, 1966.
 Faroqhi, Suraiya. Approaching Ottoman History: An Introduction to the Sources. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 2.  Gibbons, H.A. The Foundation of the Ottoman Empire. (Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1916). 60.  Ibid., 61.  Ibid., 10  Köprülü, M. Fuat. The Origins of the Ottoman Empire, translated by Gary Leiser. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992). xi.  Ibid., xxiv.  Ibid., 5.  Wittek, Paul. The Rise of the Ottoman Empire. (London: Royal Asiatic Society, 1966). 4.  Köprülü, The Origins of the Ottoman Empire, 88.  Wittek, Rise of the Ottoman Empire, 1.  Ibid., 14.  Ibid., 14.  Ibid., 31.  Ibid., 34.  Ibid., 15.  Köprülü, The Origins of the Ottoman Empire, 16.  Ibid., 20.  Ibid., 15.  Ibid., 24.  Faroqhi, Suraiya. Approaching Ottoman History: An Introduction to the Sources. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 199.  Kafadar, Cemel. Between Two Worlds: The Construction of the Ottoman State. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995). 33.  Ibid., 34.  Ibid., 42.  Ibid., 57.  Lindner, Rudi P. Nomads and Ottomans in Medieval Anatolia. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983). 4.  Kafadar, Between Two Worlds, 37.  Lindner, Nomads and Ottomans, 4.  Kafadar, Between Two Worlds, 38.  Vizer – chief advisor to the Sultan.  Köprülü, Origins, xi.  Kafadar, Between Two Worlds, 58.  Ibid., 59.  Faroqhi, Approaching Ottoman History, 199.  Lindner, Rudi Paul. “Chapter 4: Anatolia 1300-1451”, In The Cambridge History of Turkey. Edited by Kate Fleet. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013). 103.  Ibid., 104.  Beylik is the Turkish equivalent of emirate or principality.  Lindner, Anatolia, 107.  Ibid., 117.  Ibid., 118.  Ibid., 117.  Aksan, Virginia, “What’s Up in Ottoman Studies?”, Journal of the Ottoman and Turkish Studies Association, volume 1, no. 1-2 (2014): 3.  Ibid., 4.  Faroqhi, Approaching Ottoman History, 199.