Review of Matthew Teller’s Nine Quarters of Jerusalem: A New Biography of the Old City

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By Arman Khachatryan

Special to the Mirror-Spectator

Matthew Teller’s Nine Quarters of Jerusalem: A New Biography of the Old City (London, UK, Profile Books, 2022, 385 pp., US$27.99 hardcover, ISBN‎ 978-1635423341; US$10.81 paperback, ISBN 9781788169196) can be considered a piece of urban anthropology. While the author obviously did not have academic intentions when writing the book, he attempts to unlock Jerusalem’s gates by combining his background as a traveling journalist with the accuracy of a researcher. Teller grounds the stories in historical facts, not as an end but as a means to explore their effects on the present and future. His reference to the history of the city’s various faces and parts highlights its impact on the existing and future state of urban life, demonstrating the unavoidable influence of the past on the lives of its residents.

Among the many books written about Jerusalem in a similar genre, this one stands out due to two new approaches introduced by the author. In particular, the author’s main goal was to amplify the voices of the ethnically and religiously marginalized communities of Jerusalem, as well as their experiences of living in the city. In the whirlpool of the dominant Jewish and Palestinian presence and narratives, these voices have remained largely unknown to outsiders. To achieve this, Teller first conducts historical research to determine the origins of the traditional division of Jerusalem into four quarters, which he initially subjects to severe criticism. He discovers that the practice of dividing Jerusalem into neighborhoods and quarters on maps became widespread at the start of the 19th century when European countries began entering the Ottoman Empire. Teller notes that the first map of Jerusalem depicting religiously defined quarters was published in 1837 by the Viennese lithographer Hermann Engel. Engel essentially translated into German the map of Jerusalem created two years earlier by the English explorer-architect Frederick Catherwood, while also introducing new elements, such as ethno-religiously defined districts. Teller further points out that the first explicit division of the city into four parts on a map is attributed to chaplain George Williams, who included a map created in 1841 by Aldrich and Symonds in his 1849 edition titled The Holy City.

A map of the old city of Jerusalem (Teller)

Teller sees the traditional division of Jerusalem into four quarters as a consequence of the British Empire’s colonial policy, calling them colonial-era quarters. He argues that, to this day, historians and researchers have legitimized the colonial model of dividing the city into four by continuously repeating this phenomenon without questioning it. Criticizing this approach and aiming to serve as a voice for the small and marginalized religious and ethnic groups living in the city, the author claims that beyond the traditional division of Jerusalem into four colonial-era quarters, the city also includes five lesser-known quarters: Sufi, Roma (Dom or Gypsy), Kurdish, Magharibah (Moroccan), and Bab al-Majlis neighborhood. Teller makes it clear that there may be nine quarters in Jerusalem — hence the title of the book — or even more, as many as there are ethno-religious groups, such as the Karaite Jews living in the Jewish Quarter, who are not considered Jewish by Israel’s Chief Rabbinate (245). His surprise is palpable when questioning which quarter Jaffa Gate falls into — Christian or Armenian: “What a mad question! As if Armenians weren’t Christians” (15).

Maps can express the imaginary, yet they mostly depict rational realities. I contend that the Armenian Quarter of Jerusalem acquired its current shape and structure long before any European country entered Jerusalem during the Ottoman period. In contrast to the author’s hypothesis — that the division of the city is solely a consequence of European colonial foreign policy — he himself acknowledges references to other neighborhoods and quarters of Jerusalem dating back to the 15th century [29]. Turning to the Armenian case, the first evidence of the Armenian Quarter in Jerusalem dates back at least a millennium. The Armenians were among the earliest pilgrims and religious settlers in Palestine, arriving shortly after Christian holy sites were identified in the 4th century, soon after Armenia became the first country to officially adopt Christianity. The discovery of seven mosaic floors bearing Armenian inscriptions, dated as early as the 5th century and found around Jerusalem, confirms that Armenians were among the pioneers in identifying and establishing sacred places in and around the city. From that time onward, Armenian clergy began constructing religious institutions and monasteries, gradually forming what is now known as the Armenian Quarter of Jerusalem. By the time of the Crusades, a well-established Armenian community already existed in what is now the southwestern part of the Old City. Kevork Hintlian, a Jerusalem-born historian and one of Teller’s interviewees, notes in his History of the Armenians in the Holy Land (Jerusalem: St. James Printing Press, 1989) that European travelers such as John of Würzburg, who visited Jerusalem in 1161, testified to the existence of the Armenian Quarter [19]. Another European monk cited by Hintlian mentioned that during the Crusades, the Armenians occupied a substantial section of the city, with a long street known as Ruga Armenorum, a name it had retained since Byzantine times, along with numerous churches [ibid.] The Armenian Quarter expanded over time to accommodate not only local monks residing near Saint James Monastery but also the many Armenian pilgrims and merchants who visited Jerusalem annually—many of whom remained for extended periods.

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Residing and practicing their faith in Jerusalem for centuries without interruption, Armenians have made significant contributions not only to the city’s religious life — enjoying equal rights with Greek Orthodox and Catholic communities at major sanctuaries — but also to its economic and cultural spheres. They established schools, a printing press, a library, and even a museum, and were pioneers in printing, ceramic art, and photography. Over time, the Armenian Quarter gradually assumed its distinctive shape, ultimately encompassing one-sixth of the city. The entire area — from its core to its borders, including all churches, sanctuaries, and buildings in the southwestern corner of the Old City—belongs to the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem, and has historically been inhabited by Armenians, as noted by the author [30, 40]. Thus, the Armenian Quarter’s existence was not the product of a purely colonial, outsider-imposed construct. Rather, its formal designation was a recognition by the British of an already existing reality — albeit one that, as the author suggests, was later mobilized for colonial purposes.

However, the author does not approach the biography of the city solely from a historical perspective. Teller walks his reader through all of the city’s well-known and hidden sanctuaries, back alleys, and neighborhoods, delving into their history and the lives, worries, and feelings of its current inhabitants, creating a magical bond between the past and present across space and time. The famous prophets and ordinary people who shaped Jerusalem’s history are all part of the same mosaic. Some are pivotal enough to become landmarks in global history, while for others, whose stories are rarely heard, the author takes it upon himself to speak about their personal experiences, such as the social and educational Roma activist Dom Amoun Sleem.

It is here that the author begins to open the gates of Armenian Jerusalem, at least to a certain extent. Teller pays tribute to the Armenian community by acknowledging their enduring contributions to the city’s history and destiny, including the presence of Armenian queens during the Crusader era. He also highlights the Armenians’ pioneering achievements in photography and ceramics. The stories of master craftsman Tavit Ohannessian — who brought the art of ceramics from his native Kütahya to Jerusalem following the Armenian Genocide — and photographer Kevork Kahvedjian, whose work has significantly shaped the visual history of Jerusalem, serve as compelling examples of how the lives of individuals can illuminate a city’s complex past. Simultaneously, Teller offers a contemporary Armenian portrait of Jerusalem, initiating a discussion on the concerns and challenges faced by today’s Jerusalemite Armenians and their lived experience in the city.

Frontage of an Armenian restaurant on Armenian Orthodox Patriarchate Road, decorated with the Armenian national flag and a banner in Armenian, English, Arabic and Hebrew marking the centenary of the Armenian genocide (Teller, page 255)

He chooses the famous musician Apo Sahagian as the voice of the Armenian community in Jerusalem, who claims, “My local identity is Jerusalemite. I’m not Palestinian, and I’m not Israeli” (256); and while he considers Armenia his homeland, Jerusalem is the home of his spirituality. Despite all the difficulties and inconveniences of living in Jerusalem, Apo concludes that “Jerusalem has religious value and national value. It’s part of Armenia, so you have to take care of it” (257). Teller concludes the book by referencing the work of art dealer Jack Persekian, who employs art as a means to dismantle the internal boundaries of the most conservative and religious city, thereby liberating individuals from constraints and enabling them to express themselves freely.

Portraying the city through the life of a single individual is a significant strength of the book, highlighting the deep connection between person and city and their mutual impact on each other’s destinies. Jerusalem, according to Teller, is like an iceberg: what we can see is only the tip, but the city’s real, millennia-old essence is concealed in the minds and hearts of the regular people who live there. “Jerusalem is a jagged dislocation between appearance and reality. Whatever you see here is not what’s really going on” (3), he remarks.

A sports trophy cabinet in a community center inside the Armenian convent (Teller, page 348)

Teller engages with Jerusalemites from diverse backgrounds, emphasizing the profound emotional bonds they maintain with the city — attachments that often transcend rational explanation. To vividly present Jerusalemite experiences, Teller quotes the residents directly, without alteration or interpretation. The city’s tangible essence — its smell, color, taste, and sound — is unveiled by the author through food, clothing, music, photography, art, and crafts. In parallel, Teller clearly illustrates that Jerusalem is a city with both a holy and a human form, full of conflicts, miracles, and disappointments—ultimately, a city filled with both hate and love. Living in a multi-ethnic and multi-religious city, a Jerusalemite sometimes holds multiple identities that coexist, as Musa Qous mentions: “I am Black, and Arab, and Muslim” (179).

Topics: anthropology

Another layer of the book explores the ongoing conflict in modern Jerusalem. The Israeli authorities’ policy towards other ethnic and religious communities lead Teller to conclude that this aspiration jeopardizes the thousand-year tradition of peaceful coexistence in Jerusalem. Simultaneously, Teller presents the human and everyday mosaic of the holy city, exposing the strong internal walls between the ordinary Jerusalemites who have lived side by side for centuries, yet whose diverse backgrounds set them distinctly apart. Contempt, rejection, hatred, and, in some cases, an insatiable desire to physically annihilate their neighbors are all lurking beyond these walls. Matthew’s Jerusalemites assert that the city forms an integral part of their identity, where Islamic, Jewish, Christian, Armenian, Greek, and other Jerusalems exist side by side. However, the Jewish historical narrative of Jerusalem, as well as the role and significance of the city of peace in Jewish identity, is treated somewhat superficially, which I believe constitutes one of the book’s flaws.

(Arman Khachatryan is a Ph.D. student at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev (Israel) and a researcher at two leading institutions in Armenia: the Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography and the Armenian Genocide Museum-Institute. His dissertation focuses on the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem and the Armenian community in Palestine during the Late Ottoman and British Mandate periods and he specializes in the history of Armenians in the Holy Land.)

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