The Economist - USA (2019-09-28)

50 Europe The EconomistSeptember 28th 2019

I

t is quitea sight to behold. The piles of a

medieval bridge, each the size of a large

building, rise from the waters of the Tigris

river. Cliffs riddled with thousands of neo-

lithic caves, some still used as homes or an-

imal sheds, some once used as churches,

hover above. Farther up, an ancient citadel,

home to Byzantine ruins, an Ayyubid

mosque and rows of ancient tombstones,

watches over the site from a steep hilltop.

Countless other archaeological wonders

are assumed to be buried beneath.

Hasankeyf, a town of some 3,000 souls

in Turkey’s south-east, has cradled one civ-

ilisation after another for 12,000 years,

making it one of the longest continuously

inhabited places on Earth. In as little as a

few months, it will be no more. A hydro-

electric dam constructed downstream will

soon cut off the Tigris, sending billions of

cubic metres of water flooding into the val-

ley. Other than the old citadel, all of Hasan-

keyf, as well as scores of villages close to

the river, will disappear underwater, part of

a reservoir stretching for 136km (85 miles).

Experts warn the whole project will dis-

place up to 100,000 people. The local gover-

nor has given Hasankeyf residents until

October 8th to evacuate.

An uncertain future awaits them on

higher ground, on the opposite bank of the

river, in a colourless settlement known as

New Hasankeyf. Some locals have already

moved into their replacement homes. In

the meantime, the authorities have hauled

a few monuments from the ancient city, in-

cluding a minaret, a tomb, a Roman gate

and a bathhouse, to the new town, saving

them from the floodwaters. In their old

home, the antiquities overlooked lime-

stone cliffs packed with human history and

alive with the sound of wild birds. In the

new one, they are surrounded by rows of

matching houses and mountain slopes rav-

aged by dynamite.

Most people in Hasankeyf live off tou-

rism, and some off animal husbandry. The

new project threatens to wipe out both,

says Ridvan Ayhan, a local activist, taking

his tea outside one of the caves, watching

the Tigris below. “Most of the people here

will end up having to migrate to the big cit-

ies,” he says. “Their ancestors settled here

because of the water, and now they will

have to leave because of the water.”

Hasankeyf’s extinction has been in the

making for decades. Plans for a regional

dam, part of a vast development scheme for

the restive, poverty-stricken Kurdish

south-east, were first drawn up in the

1950s. Construction began in 2006. Unde-

terred by protests at home and from

abroad, by a decision by three European

banks to withdraw from the project, and by

opposition from Iraq, which fears that the

new dam will cause water shortages down-

stream, President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s

government has pushed ahead. Turkey ex-

pects that the 1,200-megawatt project will

contribute $412m annually to the country’s

economy.

In theory, Hasankeyf could easily be

classed as a unescoworld heritage site,

which might make Turkey think twice be-

fore flooding the town. But there is a catch.

Only national governments can nominate

places for unescostatus. Mr Erdogan and

his ministers are hardly likely to seek pro-

tection for a monument they have already

doomed to extinction.^7

HASANKEYF

A dam threatens one of the world’s

oldest settlements

Tu r ke y

Submerging

history

Time to go

T

he ferriesthat ply the waters

between Helsinki and Tallinn re-

semble floating shopping malls,

equipped with fast-food franchises,

clothing outlets and supermarkets. For

many Finnish passengers the main

attraction is the booze. Like other Nor-

dic countries, Finland levies punishing

taxes on alcohol: for hard liquor, €48.80

($53.61) per litre of pure alcohol con-

tent, or €19.52 in tax for a litre of vodka.

The intent is to suppress the high alco-

holism rates that plague the land of

endless winter nights. Estonia’s alcohol

taxes are far lower, so for years Finns

have crossed the gulf to stock up, im-

bibing heartily along the way.

This pie-eyed pilgrimage shrank

after 2016, when a reformist govern-

ment launched a series of increases in

Estonia’s alcohol taxes. By the start of

this year Estonia was charging a bit over

half the Finnish rate on hard liquor,

making it hardly worth the trip. The

government hoped to raise revenue, cut

down on the less desirable sorts of

tourism and improve public health

through lower consumption. But Esto-

nia’s neighbour, Latvia, failed to match

the rise. Soon it was Estonians who

were crossing the border and returning

laden with booze.

The public-health stakes are high.

Estonia’s domestic alcohol consump-

tion fell as taxes rose, but still rivalled

that in Nordic countries. As of 2018 the

typical Estonian was quaffing 10.1 litres

of pure alcohol per year—a bit below

the Finns, who averaged 10.4. Swedes

and Norwegians drink much less.

Estonia’s previous government had

committed to raising liquor taxes still

further.

That changed in April, when Ekre, a

far-right party, became a junior partner

in the government. Since the 1990s

Estonia has largely been governed by

sober centrists. Ekre are Eurosceptic

populists. The party campaigned on

blocking immigration and curtailing

native-language education for the

Russian minority, but it has yet to do

much about those issues. Its one big

policy change has been a hefty cut in

alcohol excise taxes. As of July 1st, the

tax on hard liquor fell from €25.08 per

litre of pure alcohol content to €18.81.

Estonia prides itself on becoming ever

more like a Nordic country. But Ekre

has made that aspiration more distant.

Sober calculation

Estonian alcohol tax

HELSINKI AND TALLINN

A populist party calls for cheap booze