From the ancient alleys of Mardin to the bustling streets of Istanbul, Turkey’s Assyrian community is sharing a story that is as much about profound loss as it is about deep-rooted belonging. In a moving series of testimonies, Assyrians are breaking their silence on a century of migration, survival, and the bittersweet longing for a home that often feels like it no longer recognizes them.
The latest work of journalist and writer Serdar Korucu, published by İstos Publications, tells the transformation of the Assyrian society in the last century, from the shadow of unknown murders to re-ignited hopes of a future. In this interview, he explains his motivation for writing the book titled "We Belong to This Land". "What I am trying to do this time is to convey what the Assyrian society has experienced in about 100 years by following the footsteps of the news in the mainstream press and literature, from its own language", he explained.
The book contains interviews with 38 different Assyrians, both from Turkey and the diaspora. "I still miss my hometown so much. Believe me, I even miss that dry soil," says one voice, echoing a sentiment shared by thousands who were forced to leave their ancestral lands in Southeast Turkey (Tur Abdin).
A former member of the Turkish Parliament notes the historical decline of their political presence. While the Ottoman Parliament once had multiple Assyrian representatives, it took decades for the community to find a voice again in modern Turkey. This political marginalization is mirrored by physical displacement.
One local from the region points to a painful irony in the city of Mardin: "We call it the 'Assyrian Quarter,' but there are no Assyrians left in it! It works like a mint generating tourism money, but it’s not the Assyrians who are earning from it."
The testimonies do not shy away from the darker chapters of history. Descendants recall the horrific stories passed down by their grandmothers regarding the Pogroms of September 1955, describing scenes of extreme violence and fear that left deep scars on the community’s collective memory.
Others speak of more recent tragedies during the conflicts of the 1990s. Families recall losing loved ones to landmine explosions and unsolved killings, still seeking justice and clarity decades later. "I want to know where the killers are," remains a common, yet often unanswered, plea.
Today, while "Assyrian wine" and "Assyrian silver" (Telkari) are popular tourist attractions in Mardin and Midyat, community members warn that the culture is being commercialized without its people. Many products sold today under the Assyrian name have little to no connection to the actual community. Despite the scars of the past—the forced migrations to West Europe and the loss of properties—the underlying message remains one of connection. Whether through memories of historical visits by state leaders or the evocative music playing at family gatherings, the community asserts its place in the mosaic of Anatolia.
