The Ottoman Turks began producing gunpowder in Istanbul almost immediately after the conquest of Constantinople in 1453. The city's first gunpowder facility operated within what had been the Hippodrome of Constantinople until 1490 — a striking repurposing of a late Roman public space as an industrial site for the empire's military needs.

That facility was eventually replaced, and in 1700 the Ottomans completed a new gunpowder mill at Makriköy — the neighborhood now called Bakırköy — funded through Muqata'ah revenue from Gümüşhane and the Imperial Treasury. The new site was chosen for safety: its position outside the main urban area reduced the risk to the city from the inevitable accidents that came with gunpowder production. The caution was warranted. Fires disrupted operations repeatedly through the eighteenth century.

Throughout the eighteenth century the mill produced approximately 85 to 160 tonnes of gunpowder per year, though the quality was a persistent source of debate and complaint. In October 1791, following a particularly close call with fire, the complex was rebuilt entirely in stone — a structural decision that preserved much of what still stands today.

In 1793, Sultan Selim III took a further step: he ordered the founding of a dedicated Ministry of Gunpowder Mill, establishing an administrative structure to improve production practices. Selim III was a reformist sultan, and his intervention in the gunpowder works reflected the broader Ottoman effort of the period to modernize military infrastructure in response to European pressures. The mill's output mattered strategically; its quality mattered even more.

Among the most interesting chapters in the mill's history is the appointment of an Armenian-Ottoman officer named Dad Arakel as director during the reign of Sultan Mahmud II. His sons, Ohannes and Bogos — who took the surname Dadyan — continued the management after him, overseeing the facility for an extended period. The Dadyan family became significant figures in Ottoman industrial and cultural life of the era.

The effect on the surrounding neighborhood was tangible. Historical records note that after Armenian officers took responsibility for the mill at Makriköy, the Armenian population of the area grew to around 100 households. The complex had its own estate, which included an Ayazma — a holy well — where local children and women would come to drink the water and hold picnics. The industrial site and the community around it were intertwined.

The mill operated through the end of the Ottoman Empire, passing from military control to the newly established Mechanical and Chemical Industry Corporation after the proclamation of the Turkish Republic. Then, in 1955, the complex — which by that point covered four million square meters — was sold to Emlak Kredi Bank. In 1957, residential construction began on parts of the former estate. The Ataköy neighborhood of apartment buildings and boulevards that emerged in subsequent decades overlaid most of what had been the mill's grounds.

In the northern portion of what remained, Bakırköy Municipality restored a group of the mill's historic stone buildings and converted them into the Yunus Emre Cultural Centre in 1993. That cultural reuse was a first step in what would eventually become a broader reclamation.

In 2018, TOKİ — Turkey's Housing Development Administration — transferred a 60,000-square-meter parcel of the former gunpowder mill grounds to Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality. That land was converted into a public park called Baruthane Millet Bahçesi, giving back to the surrounding city a green space where Ottoman industry once operated at industrial scale.

In 2024, Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality completed another phase: the renovation of additional historic mill buildings, converting them into a museum, a theatre hall, and a public library. The library holds 8,000 books and seats 110 people. The old stone walls of the Baruthane-i Âmire now hold reading rooms. The tower near the Marmara shore still stands, visible from the water, a remnant of the centuries when this stretch of coast was about something entirely different.