his second volume completes Uğurluel's portrait of Abdülhamid II, turning from his personal life to his reign, his Pan-Islamist policies, and his lasting institutional legacy. Together with the first book, it presents a convincing case for Abdülhamid as a visionary, well-intentioned ruler caught between tradition and modernity. Though occasionally repetitive, it remains an accessible and compelling read.
This is the second volume in a two-part series about Sultan Abdülhamid II. While the first book focused more on his upbringing and personal life, this one turns to his reign, his policies, the reasons behind his decisions, and ultimately, his downfall.
The tone of this book is the same as the first. It is easy to read, well-structured, and never too complicated. Much of the text is supported by photographs taken by the author himself, which adds a unique personal touch. As I mentioned in my review of the first volume, Uğurluel writes in a way that feels like a mixture of travelogue and history book, which makes the narrative both informative and engaging.
This volume does a very good job of explaining why Abdülhamid chose to pursue Pan-Islamist policies as a response to the rise of nationalism. It shows where he succeeded and where he failed. The author often gives the reasoning behind Abdülhamid’s policies, whether positive or negative, and presents them in a mostly objective way. Just like the first book, this one is clearly pro-Ottoman and pro-Abdülhamid, but it is convincing in how it makes its case.
I have always believed that Abdülhamid II was a tragic figure, a man with vision but without the means to fully achieve it. The first book convinced me of that, and this second one only strengthened my view. Many of the essential institutions we have today were built on the foundations he laid, and this book reinforces that point. It talks about his reforms in education and the new schools and universities he opened, his attempts at military modernization and infrastructure, and his diplomacy and dealings with Europe.
Together, the series paints Abdülhamid not as a perfect ruler, but as a well-intentioned man who struggled to bring his vision to life. There is no real improvement or decline in the writing style from the first book to the second. They are almost the same in tone, but each offers different information. Read together, they present Abdülhamid II as a visionary and help readers understand the dilemmas of an empire caught between tradition and modernity.
One thing missing is a direct connection to the political debates Türkiye faces today. The book does not make those links for the reader, but anyone even slightly interested in politics will be able to see the parallels. In many ways, this story feels like a mirror of our own society.
I do have a few gripes, and they explain why my rating is four stars instead of five. At times the book is repetitive, going over the same arguments without adding much new depth. The author also sometimes strays from the topic of the chapter, which can make the structure feel a little unfocused. These parts are not bad, but they do break the flow and make the book feel less tight than it could have been. Still, these flaws do not outweigh the strengths.
Rating: 4/5
This is a strong conclusion to Uğurluel’s two-volume work on Abdülhamid II. I recommend reading my review of the first book before this one, since the two really belong together. Read side by side, they give an accessible and convincing portrait of one of the most debated figures in Ottoman history.