Jujustan

Ve işte daha bir ay dolmadan, son girdiğim işten de ayrıldım/atıldım, tabi ki mobbingle! Yahu, ben 20-25 senedir çalışıyorum, eskiden hiç atılma, mobbing vs yaşamazdım, işverenlerimle ayrılsak da hep iyi bir ilişkim oldu, açıkçası bu yüzden fazla üstüme alınmıyorum ama pandemiden beri, girdiğim her işten bir sorun yaşayarak ayrıldım. Üniversitede ders veriyordum, paramı yatırmadılar bir dönem boyunca, gelecek dönem kadrolusun öğrenciler de bizler de memnunuz diye palavra sıka sıka, dönem sonu resmen parasız çalıştırmış oldular, bir daha da aramadılar zaten kadro madro için... Ya üniversite bu ya, noluyoruz, anlamak mümkün değil.

Sonra birer sene özel sektörde satış diye genelleyeceğim bir iş yaptım, ikisinde de mobbing üstü bir takım hak gaspları, sebepsiz atılma, dava açmaya kalktım, adamlar zaten sanki şirketi nasıl iyi bir mobbing yaparım diye kurmuş gibi, hukuki tüm çıkışları bir güzel bilerek atılmışlar olaya, onu da kovalamayı bıraktım...

Son bir aydır bir işteyim yine, ve 10 kişilik ekibin lideriyle ikinci haftada bir tuhaflık hissettim (böyle başlıyor zaten). Şimdi ben öncelikle suçu kendimde arayan bir şehitlik kompleksi sahibiyim, o yüzden bunları böyle dışsallaştırana kadar inanın kılı kırk yarıyor, öyle kendimi aklayabiliyorum ancak. Hoş bu durumda adam biraz amatör bir de yabancı gelmiş bağdakine mobbing yapacak, biraz yüzüne gözüne bulaştırıyor, gülünç ama sonuçta patronla kanka, kazanacak bir durumum yok...

Böyle pop müziğine böyle kışla kokan bir cinsel hayat tabi ki...

It's better to say all this in English, for obvious reasons, but the new cinematic avant-garde lies in porn production, which has become a veritable public problem, with porn addiction keeping people in their grips. As much as I cannot comprehend how one gets addicted to porn, it would be ignorant of me to deny its existence. It is huge problem among modern-day urban metropolitan youth, it seems, the number of reddit posts on the subject is astonishing! There is obviously no way to fully ban, censure, take out this basic human expression out of our lives, thus the industry should take an embracing approach in order to master the form and genre, allthewhile normalizing it, canonizing it, and rendering it less malignant. Editors should try ways to cut footage in ways that could not only bypass the "addictive x" in it, but to make it reflect the dimensionality and temporality of of actual sexual behaviour, not idealized mariioenette choreography with lots of moans, the form could produce its peaks, there already are some good examples of porn being put to the service of cinema's auteurs: Lars Von Trier, in Melancholia, has managed to make a fully hardcore porno feature film that manages to never get or keep an erection. Ways to encompass and demarginalize porn into human culture has become essential. We cannot go on demonizing it, that approach very quickly showed no open path..

The topic has been discussed at length, though beyond politics, I don't know of any profound insight offered by any thinker on the condition of the human being interacting with other fellow humans in a post-truth world.

We tend to speak as if politics is the reflection of the ordinary person in the public sphere, yet it seems that for some time, one cannot comfortably assert that politics in the form it takes today, truly reflects the will or desires of the electorate. The rising personality cult of leaders and the far right are not clear indicators of anything, especially with the injection of this strange term post-truth.

Notwithstanding the term's current connotations regarding the world of advertising, marketing, neuro-marketing, politics and the like, I want to elaborate on the implicit idea that the Truth has no fixed, overarching value any longer; in fact, do we even consider speaking of the Truth, as an activity belonging to the world of adults?

When I was growing up, honesty among others, was at the top of the list of qualities that an ideal adult should possess. As I became an adult myself, I started to see how speaking the truth is mostly desired, yet is not always an efficient tactic strategically. "White lie" was one concept that was spoken of. Another one was not lying but speaking the truth partially. However, speaking the truth in this instance still remains a religious, ethical, moral priority. Everywhere around me, people chose different shades of one or the other, fabricating reality as they see fit, some more than others. Yet still, the truth was paramount and liars of all kind were shunned to some extent.

Then the 21st century arrives. Suddenly, "perception" is more important; impressions matter more so than content or meaning. The transmission, representation and delivery of the content took precedence. Truth got lost under intention aiming for effect.

Moreover, the public sphere got flooded with a marginal type of individual: those with personality disorders. The quintessential psychoanalytic problem with no solution, "American Psycho," (a psychotic narcissist) suddenly is no longer a horror story, or the stuff of nightmares, but is streamlined into a reader-friendly title like "Diary of a Sociopath," and found its way into the racks of airport bookstores. The insights on modern day capitalism in the documentary "The Corporation" is terrifying at the time of screening (the Sociopathic CEO at the Board of Corporations), yet today, it is only mundane and ordinary. It seems the floodgates holding all the narcissists, borderlines, schizo-affectives of the world that had been somehow pushed back by society, has burst open wide, giving rise to last year's most searched word of "gaslighting," an elaborate type of lying, which personality disorder cases are fond of employing.

Although the victims of gaslighting often speak of manipulation, in the end, lying is what it crudely is. Long discussions of its use and manner only serve to conceal this fundamental fact: As a result, lying is no longer the realm of the vice, the diabolical, the evil... It is human behavior, and at most, is qualified as "toxic." The reader should decide whether "toxic" serves to underline the gist.

I believe all this is a clever way to justify lying and internalize it as public behavior, which belongs to vices only conjecturally. So, the truth becomes more and more situational, and thus is on its way to becoming interchangeable with its opposite. One could assert that all this is playing with words, that this is democratization of all concepts, if you will. Yet, will we ever return to the binary opposition as a criteria to evaluate how a person is "good" or is that situational as well? I'm afraid the answer to this rhetorical question today will be scoffed away by most people. Nobody seems to care about the truth anymore, especially when each individual acquainted with a courtroom will attest to their desire to win their respective case, through the careful manipulation of facts to win an argument, demonstrated by lawyers. Calling the truth out as it is, at the detriment of the speaker, is no longer what a saint or a martyr would do, but what somebody not very bright would do, thereby admitting to lose...

Then, is there nothing lost when the truth has no intrinsic value anymore? Is winning the argument more important, no matter what happens to the truth in the meantime? Honor, integrity, justice, do these concepts remain unchanged when we supplant the truth from their backbones? Will tomorrow's world usher in clashing manipulators of truth in all areas of life, leading to our watching the best of liars and manipulators beat each other in every circle imaginable? With no truth to measure the argument against, do we end up with a reality more and more distant than what we objectively all perceive, eventually getting lost in a maze of clauses and arguments, that uses language to cover and conceal intents and impressions of speakers, making every human interaction, a fiction, in the end? Then what happens to those who cannot afford to dream, who do not have the time to dabble in lying, in all the shapes and sizes it comes in? What of those adamantly wanting to be measured against the divine, the transcendent, even if it is they who lose in the end?

When was the last time you heard someone admit to their mistake?

When was the last time you yourself apologized?

When was the last time you heard an apology?

Have you ever thought of what the world would look like after only those who are able to win arguments, no matter how, survive and lead others?

Do you think you'll be on the winning side all the time?

I shudder at the prospect, and continue to loathe lying; it seems like telling the truth is the only real road to salvation today.

The truth is not lost, nor is it nonexistent, nor a fiction, nor conjecture: Human suffering, pain, anguish, poverty, are still True. Wherever we find "the moan of multitudes in woe" therein lies the truth, battered and bruised, barely making a peep, buried under human corpses of all past millennia.

Here's to all those individuals who are not ashamed of being wrong, weak, apologetic, who have the modesty to beg forgiveness, who still cling to the simple truth that human beings are worthy of compassion, because of our insistence to truth.

As of 2016, after mother died (and my family along with her), I was hit with consecutive blows of treason (according to me, at least) from a close circle of alleged friends. Up to then, I was rather rambunctious in asserting, even boasting, that I had never known or experienced being backstabbed by a friend. This was close to my 40th birthday, so it was truly unexpected, after all these years, and once my mother was out of the picture, at that. It was as if the poor woman had installed security webs that guarded me from falling, or that buffered me against any nasty allegations, which we were both unawares they existed.

Boy, was I in for a nasty surprise! You live and learn, I survived and hopefully learned, at least to cut these fuckfaces out of my life for once and for all, without shedding tears after the little shits. I know I'm a big-ass softie at heart, the problem is, everyone else knows it too, as I take pride in adamantly remaining myself with those whom I take as friends. And though it is obvious that my judgement, at times, is flawed, as any human being, at least I try to remain true and loyal to friends, as much as I can. At least, I know for a fact, it is highly unlikely I shall move the way I describe below. The reader here, is obviously, no one, neither do I write these so the culprits read and see themselves in the lines (they're too oblivious to read anything in English, or that is grammatically complicated, and with the article signed by me, it is doubly likely they would sneer without even casting a quick glance. So who do I write to here? Nobody in particular, perhaps to myself to read later in life, to posterity, as notes of a past, however insignificant they may be, but mostly, and this is the plight I have not been able to have anyone listen and sympathize with, I write because deprived of loved ones who unconditionally love me for who I am, whatever I may have become in time, I faced a truly challenging fact of life I had never known existed before: That is, first of all, society hates mostly its own members, and orphans are among the easiest prey, as their support system is practically nonexistent. So, I write these as a sort of mirror image that counters my thoughts at the time of writing, whose reflection will only take hold once I rest my gaze on these lines, however many years from now onwards. I do not presume to change anyones' opinion about so-and-so, or to become agents of a smear campaign against such-and-such, but wish to understand in later years, where I might have misjudged or misinterpreted.

Although I am not going to fake modesty in such cases, I have had enough of being gaslit into thinking my own judgement is skewed, while crap artists both shat on me and told me I was the one who smelled bad. Before mother's death, there seemed to be weight to my individual voice, integrity when my name was called. And this remains still true in some cases, but in others, who would've known I could've been so hated by those so close? How did I never see this? I do not blame myself any longer, as no one has been able to come up and tell me in my face, whatever fault I may have made. There is plenty of talk in the background, but if you're not telling me such intimate opinions bound to break hearts to my face, but have no qualms about jabbering in the back with others, I feel no responsibility to self-analysis. First stop acting like a 5 year old coward, then we can come to my part to blame. Yet wielding such power over others really blinds certain people, and they would rather die than let go of said power, never mind destroying our relationship.

Moreover, I have to also admit, there is some strange sense of sensationalism to gossiping about my life, which many people are drawn to like moths to a flame, and as if they would discuss the mock history of a super hero, so they take delight in conjuring up lies, exaggerations and other hideous, juvenile untruths when it is me who is the subject. I see this now, I don't understand, nor do I like it, in fact I downright hate this conclusion, and whatever has led to this I wish I could overturn, yet alas, it is solid as stone, and I have had half a century to observe this reality, and it does not help anyone to insist on claiming that anything but the stark truth should prevail

So the first skeleton was later in occurence in fact, wasn't blatantly scandalous at first look, but in retrospect, it is actually among the worst betrayals I have experienced in the nastiness and disgust it unveiled.

This was a surgeon friend, who became first my tutor of english, then the doctor of the various vaginas in my life, including the hands that brought my daughter to this world. Thus, there was heavy emotional investment to say the least.

Yet that was not all. This person and I went through events that bring people closer, invariably knitting tighter knots in their wake, never mind the tragic content of our respective personal histories. There was also much drinking and drugging, sex and decadence, escapism of all kinds of the spectrum, with each to their own excuse and also, to their own preferred poisons. His was booze, mine was narcotics. And though he was the one who had more than 9 veins replaced in the heart, a belly the size of a medieval tub, and a track record of a bottle of whiskey a night. To my mind, his death was and is closer than mine could ever be, and I must admit, I secretly thought his personality and profundity to be lacking to handle anything less stupefying than regular, high-proof, liqueur, never mind the gamut of substances I very heartily indulged in, while he drowned himself in booze. So this was one schism indeed. Yet, I thought, this is ridiculous to hold a grudge for; to each their own, plus, dude your belly is like Pinocchio's nose for fuck's sake, who are you to tell me to smoke less and drink more?

Anyway, the first time I knew something was wrong, was when after my mother's death, I was dumped viciously by my then girlfriend, who had herself proposed me in marriage a month back. She dumped me with others present, and never once took my calls afterwards, avoiding me like leprosy. I never saw her again, nor did I ever see the horde of friends she travelled everywhere with. And this I also couldn't explain to myself. Ok she hates me for whatever reason, unpronounced as of yet, but eventually once things cool down, can be discussed evidently among more adult heads. AT least this had been the way my relations with romantically-charged individuals that came and left in my life. Hadn't this ex met my ex-wife, and the 2-3 ex-girlfriends? Hadn't everyone seen how we could and did remain friends, and that I made this a point, that after 5-6 years of romance, those people are in my life to stay, regardless of the frequency with which we may mingle later in life. What happened that made this fact suddenly change so drastically? And what is wrong with the entourage of my ex, who dogmatically remained glued to her and thus my free time all those years, but couldn't bring a single soul to stand and explain to me the inhumane treatment full of gaslighting, ghosting, manipulations, all the while I kept on mourning my dead. Nobody had the gall to come up and tell me what I had done wrong, but they all had concretely strong sentiments and opinions as to what led to this. Yet, here I was in the middle of storm, cast off from one pedestal to another, without a clue as to what made me persona non grata ultimate! We had not had any screaming fights, nor reproaches from one side to the other, no claims to adultery, no claim to nothing, just a cold-blooded dumping act that took place within a circle of friends. People that knew us were as dumbfounded as I was, yet the script was well written in advance: oh don't you know how unreasonable he can be, don't you think I tried talking sense into him? she and her cronies chimed, and most poeple objected, no, you may very well talk to him, and he says he doesn't know what you're talking about, why don't you let him talk to you? No answer there. I was the unreasonable oaf, the unspeakable peasant, the rude, obnoxious narcotics driven lunatic, from which she had to escape... Who also had, among other factors, a dead mom to mourn, but nobody paid attention to that, or me anyway. Nobody had any patience to listen to any cause to serve to decrease my sentence. I had it all coming for me, oh the way my misfortunes were cherished, celebrated even. The wickedness of harboring such evil towards a person you acted exactly the opposite for years on end...

I will never forget who stood up for me that day. My dealer in charlie, was the one who asked her straight out: When was the last time you asked him how he had been feeling? She paused and couldn't reply. She hadn't, did not care for who knows how long, I wasn't counting the months, but I was very aware of being left so alone, completely unheard, unlistened to by anyone, even my old friends who barely knew this woman. Suddenly they chimed in, ah who knows what she went through with you? What? I'd exclaim, what is it that I put people through to warrant such behaviour, tell me examples from our past. To which the reply, that I know to this day is perfume to cover up a foul stink if there ever was one; oh, if you are still asking, then what good will I be doing pronouncing it? Right... Sometimes people forget how stupid they can be, and how dumb I was considering them my peers... A Turkish saying goes, yeah and if my aunt had balls, she'd be my uncle... A weeping woman always trumps any tragedy, write this into your booklet of famous sayings, folks, this is one solid lesson I can easily state and remain steadfastedly behind as an ugly fact of life at that. There is very little that can resist a grown woman crying, bellowing like a child. Oh the horror she must've gone through!!! yeah, the horror is right here, you're just looking over it. I digress... Where is the surgeon bastard in this story?

I'm coming to him. Now having established our proximity, I would consider him to be a shoulder to cry on, and when I tried to do so, I was immediately cut off, heard my ex being defended as if I had to rein in my rabid impulses, and if not, legal measures would have to be taken. He said in the most cold and dry voice I have ever heard from someone close: You have to stop chasing her (who's chasing?) she is over you, and will not love you ever again (ok? and why do you know all this? I never told you of my relationship?) so cut your shirt short and stop getting in touch.

He never ever asked what I had gone through, meanwhile.

Months went by and I tried to disregard the obvious signs of a cowards' love gone to seed, having turned into some hateful bile, of which the likes I purposefully try to remain ignorant. Yet here was my pal, my pops, my bro, my mate, my captain at sea, my doctor my protector, seething with a hatred whose origins I did not know and couldn't make heads or tails as to the reasons of inception. Yet one dark day, I called him up for medical advice. This was the first and only time I begged his medical know-how to come and help me, that I felt I was to die, yaddayaddayadda. Not to diminish the magnitude of my plight, but the sheer recalling brings me to tears... He literally turned a blind eye to my upcoming death, insinuating I brought this upon myself, and that it was the least I deserved... He added, to the ears of my girlfriend who, in tears with fear of losing me, a sick tale of bizarre persistent immorality, whose origins I had no clue of, but definitely had no relation to my life. He basically was telling her to drop me for dead, take off and never look back...

Here was a medical professional who sidestepped his oath for an alleged close friend at that. He chose to exclude me out of the unbiased affection he was trained to show to people much less deserving of care, according to his priorities; if only he'd show the amount of affection he would show a stranger toppling on a sidewalk a few yards away? How could anyone deserve such spite? How guilty could I be, what could I have possibly done to leave me to die, and how can you never even feel the need to check on the coming days after. I didn't die thankfully but I asked, say you came across my obituary the day after? How could you live with this knowledge that you had been the prime cause of eventual death? The silence was worse than a bad answer. How could I have mistaken him for a friend all these years? A friend, who didn't bat an eye to the prospect of an ill-begotten, early, undeserved death of the sole remaining individual of a beautiful family that had perished in most tragic circumstances. A person whom gave you a limb when the need required (this is very much true, I literally embraced horribly injuries that lasted for months only due to his stupidity and inconsideration, to which he admitted countless times. While I was readily giving up vital organs because the captain had ordered it, albeit stark, raving absurdity, he didn't move an inch upon hearing that I may be close to death, total oblivion of which he is very knowedlgeable due to his profession. One whose mother you diagnosed with lethal cancer, who stood by during all the pivotal points that make or break character, he very easily, almost nonchalantly said, I can't, I have dinner with my wife...

There is more terrible nastiness at bay, mind you, for example him casting in front of me a photo of an ex, with his usual, dick-for-brains mischief, his oriental appetite for sex and debauchery that I found juvenile, distasteful, and very much below him, but so is life, we all have some disturbing aspect to our personalities, why should I judge? who am I to say I'm better? Well I am now, I am much much better... I wouldn't and couldn't leave anything to die, if it depended on me for life at that very instant, no matter how much personal hatred I may feel. I will never be able to get over the ease with which he cast down his integrity in my eyes. But now I see that is the crux; my opinions no longer carried any weight with him, even more, he found my presence absolutely disgusting, unbecoming of daily life, my opinions and views gibberish, and my broken feelings? who gives a fuck. Moreover, this was the same fabricated fact that all these skeletons banked on. This erasure of my public personae; they not only did not avert me to it, they relished it, slobbered over it in privacy, gave it form and blew bile into it to exaggerate its proportions, to the point where my feeble defenses did not even make it over to the first round of ears. The opposite trend in my misfortune puffed up big with the high wind behind, mostly created by those I felt were my most loved and cared ones. Nobody cared anymore whom I blamed for whatever indignity I might have felt, because my life was valid in so far as I was a open target for anyone's scapegoating of any fault. There was no defense that could whitewash my sins, no sound by no one would never be enough to draw sympathy in my name... At least, this was and probably still is, their opinion of me, their opinion of an old friend who was ready to give a limb without blinking. If there ever was a counterweight that pushed the scales away from my favour, it was the vague promise of pussy by some wicked demoness... This is all him, all 80 years old wisdom done away with a dick still dripping with pre-pubescent cum (though forcibly flaccid I must add, which was probably another reason why he hated my guts). All his womanizing had to come to an end, and I think now, shit this is not even close to decent punishment to his crimes but I'll still keep it, thank you very much. Even this amount of evil for me is difficult to write, to even think, and I love myself for this, but I also know that this is also a terrible weakness, one that will bite me in the back every single time... Yet, isn't life just one big fucking mistake, if we never trust to the point of risking our own downfall? If we never love with the possible heartache unrequited may bring? Isn't this one of the largest themes of all literature, one that still touches hearts and strums strings of mourning when recalled? Aren't there any broad red lines one must not cross when dealing with affectionate others?

I don't know about you, but I was not the overly confident, jovial, relaxed and in-control individual that I presently hold as my authentic self (!). In fact, perhaps due to my bi-cultural and bi-lingual domestic status, I felt out of place in most environments. Moreover, as blond men/boys are rarely considered men in this grand nation of ours, I also felt that bizarrely condescending look hover over from top to toe, very frequently mixed with a fascination with the exotic, which uncomfortably nudged the discomforting look I mention, over to extremely nebulous ambivalences felt by little ol' me. Thus, as I tried to mirror my counter-party, I unknowingly would drift from misery to acceptance and back at the slightest gesture that would halt their own personal progression of silent domination under the guise of daily interaction.

I mean, don't we all carry these types of indeterminacies from our childhood, where oblivious to the true motive behind the gaze, we had to make up reactions to the unknown, so a double unknown to be tackled...?

Childhood is indeed one hell-hole for some...

Then again, perhaps this is not your experience. Perhaps you were still the total, whole, in-control perfection that you always are? Perhaps I imagine these inconsistencies in character, these shifts of domination in the semi-formed psyche; perhaps I am alone in imagining thus, and most of you were, in general, quite well adjusted human beings? I do hope so, yet I, for one, was not. And though I cannot speak for the larger population, I think I can safely assert that I am not the sole representative of my kind, that there were yet other children, who did not feel wholly themselves, perhaps due to their incompleteness, or perhaps a budding personality disorder in the making...

Here is the original in Turkish, I can't recall its exact date and location of publication, but it would be in a 2024 issue of Sözcükler, a prominent literary magazine published in Türkiye. I will draft my proposal for a translation below the original. As with all poems, this can only be a tentative version, one that could be endlessly reworked. Nonetheless, I find the poem to be sincere and intimate in its form sonority, and regardless of its quirky, absurd flavours it possesses quite well-formed images and concepts, which I have tried to recreate below... You may very well chalk my efforts as being too-hermeneutic :)

The punctuation is as is the original

dev'let

biz devletin masasında

oturduk üç beş cüce çatal bıçak iskemle

sönmüş bir mumu üfledik çok neşeliydik

naylondan bir kalp sol yanımızda,

kanlakarışık salata

biz devletin masasında

ekşi peynir, hurma, arzu ve hal

bir şarkıyı tersten söyledik esas duruşta

ha ha ha ha ha

kimse gelmez sen gel demet de papatya

jelatine sarılı bir ulus-devlet getir yanında

kimse gelmez, sen gel bir rozet, arma, ona benzer

birşey getir bak; boş bir fırtına var yakamda

kimse gelmez sen gel bir yorulursam otur kaldırıma

o kimsesiz çocuklar inan dokunmazlar sana

iyi halden yararlanıp az mı yattık bu ahşap yataklarda

hep hafifletici sebepler bulmadık mı kendimizi yalanlamaya

çark etmedik mi köşeden, dönmedik mi kendi eksenimiz etrafında

ha ha ha ha ha

iyi aile vardır, yemin ediyorum vardır bir ihtimal olarak

iyi dev'let yoktur ama!

ne gerçek ne metafor ne hayal ne randıman

ne sükun ne sükut neyse ne işte

biz devletin masasında

oturduk üç beş cüce çatal bıçak iskemle

ah ah ah ah

Altay Öktem

sitting at a table laid out by the state

sitting together with a handful of dwarves some cutlery and chairs

blew out an unlit candle, oh how we were gay!

at yonder left side a plastic heart

and some salad blood-tossed

sitting at a table at the state's expense

blue cheese dates pets and their stations

recited backwards a song, standing tall at en'shun

ha ha ha ha

all absent you present come bring bouquet bring daisies

come along bring a brand new nation-state, minted cellophane

all absent you present come bring badge bring ribbon or all such

bring whatever, because, look! a vacant storm at my collar

none present but you yes, and just sit on steps when tired

those orphan urchins, rest assured, they shall pass you by

have we not killed enough time on these wooden slabs, spurred on by good behaviour

did we not find ways to self-refute, aided by extenuating circumstance

did we not swing one corner of this state to another, or spin on our own axis around and around

ha ha ha ha

the good family there yet may be, I swear perhaps

even if as a possibility

but a good state, now that, no, ne'er!

not in real nor metaphor neither dreamt nor in yield

not in sound nor silence and neither wherever

we, sitting at the state's table

just passing around some dwarves some cutlery chairs

oh oh oh oh oh

Life is one fucked up affair... We are born into a sensory mess of an universe, kicking and screaming, desperate and yearning for any weapon for self defence, all the while mired in the conviction that this premature, yolk of a human physiology lacks any substantial way to make a proud stand against whatever threat may be lurking on the horizon... We depart somewhat similarly (if lucky, that is), toothless, weak, failing in organs and function that our extensions or appendages may have entailed. All in all, it is a sordid affair from beginning to end. For all of us. Every single one. Yes, there are individual differences that may make one voyage easier to cope than the other, but all in all, from birth to death, there is maybe this one component to life that unites us all, indiscriminately: we are all born into this world in pain, surprise and shock, and die in pain, surprise and shock...

So, when faced with certain challenges that make life more difficult than it already is, I hope that I, personally, will be able to maintain a shred of human dignity in accepting even failure, and even if I am to admit my fault and recognize my failings in the affair, I would like to trust in the inherited human experience to cushion the fall, to show me a timeless tolerance to the human condition, to the recognition of its imperfections, inconsistencies, its weaknesses...

Because a large part of life is making mistakes. Those who are truly wise, says a Chinese proverb, are not those who have succeeded the most, but the ones who have made the most mistakes in their life.

So, when I reach a difficult point in my life whose posterity leaves me in ruins, I trust that humanity will be there to guide me in understanding that this isn't really the end yet, that anything prior to death, can be alleviated, forgiven, even ameliorated upon. Possessing this outlook has made my days easier to handle, and will probably -for the lack of a better word- help me in the future as well. Transferred over to a context of human relations, we all know that some people are to enter your life, and similarly, are to depart too, before we make our own final departure, and it is best to make each departures as painless as possible. This good wish may be realized or it may not. Yet, once the separation takes place and the mourning ends after some time (however much time that relationship requires), we pick up the pieces off the floor and move on... We all know that separation is both tough to tackle but also in many cases, best for both parties involved. No separation is easy for neither party, and regardless of any pain the relationship may have suffered from, as we grow old, these issues become less daunting to handle, or at least that's what I aspire to say when I grow up (!).

However, there are a handful of situations, which, perhaps due to my lack of experience or sheer, dumb luck, I still find very difficult to process, endure, and move beyond, one of which is called 'ghosting.' I count myself lucky in that I only experienced this horrid condition once or twice, and only once, in the context of its bearing the quality of life-altering. And although on this damned occasion, the relationship in question was an intimate one, the experience that has led me to write all this 'drivel' is (thank god!) neither one of intimacy, nor has it taken life-altering characteristics so far. In fact, it takes place within the people in my life that I share no romantic side themes with. This in itself is peculiar for me, as I did not think it possible for 'friends' (again, for the lack of a better word) to ghost each other. Until I began to understand that ghosting is a one-way attitude, that it says nothing about your shared relationship, but says everything about the party that ghosts. I wish I could say that this attitude is among the "timeless tolerance to the human condition," unfortunately, it is by far the closest one comes to pure evil, an evil that one should be thankful to have been kept at the distance where ghosting has eventually become your share of that persons' terrible influence, hopefully ending there with the end of the relationship. All in all, I think this is one of the most repulsive behaviors that humans exhibit, and encountering it within the sphere of 'friendly acquaintances' is both stomach-turning, and blessedly of good luck. And to anyone left to remain with the doer of the ghosting, even if we had no direct beef, I wish you perish in your fucking hell, man. People who know me, know I do not wish evil onto people, and I would have wished good things for you and yours even if we were to part ways, now I cannot stop myself from hoping that you and yours suffer. May you dry up and cry desperately for anything and forever. May your death be long and hard, making the world a pit of pain in which you have fallen headfirst, with your ass up in the air, and a row of donkeys and camels wait in line to fuck you in the butt, dry. May your final croaking be one of bestial smut, with animal semen making your speech incomprehensible. I hope you and your significant other's dainty organs are destroyed by said pack of herd animals, and you hear no consolation from familiar lips, only gurgles and slurps from moaning beasts, who are making lunch out of your vital functions.

AHem! OK, now that's out of the way, I'd like to keep a cooler head in contemplating the concept, and the psychological condition that precedes or supersedes this cardinal sin (!).

I said ghosting is a footnote to the ghoster and not for both parties involved nor for the third party in question, that is the nature of the relationship itself. Most relationships end in varying degrees of sadness; this is well-expected, yet it also is a fact of life, and the necessity of 'closure,' what ghosting namely robs one of, is not a perennial obligation or a mandatory prerequisite, a categorical imperative, but a display of of understanding gentleness, a deliverance from cruelty that the break may very well tumble into. It displays how both parties have chosen to remain human and honor their presently failing camaraderie. Ghosting should be done to people who cannot remain as people in ones' portfolio of humans. Unless one is deserving such behavior (to which very few would own up to), one simply has no need for such barbaric customs for such a human undertaking as separation. So, if ghosting is present in the relationship, it goes to show that one party was never there to begin with as an equal human being. I do not mean to say that animosity doesn't exist, I simply state that even the worst enemy deserves to be treated humanely, and ghosting in this sense, is rather shallow a word denoting such a dehumanizing, narcissistic and odious practice. I for one, could not part ways by ghosting, anyone whom I would have counted as a friend. In fact, this discrepancy between the profundity of human relationships and the gravity of evil that ghosting entails, makes the practice so much more visceral, the experience so hateful. It carries the worst adjectives one can think of the other, all the while telling how sinister the ghoster had been up to then. Are we to really believe that there was nothing to be said between the two, that you had to ghost your way out?

It is the work of the coward and immature; only the shallow and superficial ghosts. It speaks how one party kept hidden in their bosom an arrogance and cruelty of personality, that surpasses all other qualities. The ghoster does not know human kindness, perhaps only in form as they are masters of hypocrisy by nature, but their sociopathic personality seethes out of the gesture, and leaves deathly silence in its wake, much like the black calm after trench warfare devastates a landscape.

Moreover, ghosting is a prelude to another bizarrely sadistic concept currently called gaslighting, another modern invention of nastiness. The person who is ghosted, is already gaslit into the suffering imagination of the ghoster. They have already been tried, judged and found guilty by the ghoster, sentenced to suffer for some crime that they may be wholly unaware of. In fact, in this sense, ghosting is a blessing in disguise, in that the ghoster keeps the ghosted away from their evil coup de grace, by uniting them with a pale version of evil that hadn't released itself upon the ghosted as of yet, and thank god, thus becoming their final interaction. Who in the hell could conceive of the shit a ghoster is able to display? It may be sadistic, yet perhaps this is the way the figurehead of evil (!) in this context, saves the other from what hell s/he had in store for them in the future?

I got to watch The White Lotus after hearing it from a good friend, whose intelligence has been proven globally to be of the highest order. I have to admit, after the first season and halfway through the second, I had doubts; I began to think that the whole glamour aspect of the series was what made my friend enjoy it, as the social class in question is closer to hers than to mine. Then something happened halfway through the second season. I usually skip the credits, but somehow I forgot to skip it and ended up watching intently the whole beginning credits. By the end of the short sequence, I was in tears.

What makes the White Lotus valuable for me, it seems, is what it says to me outside of the time spent on the series itself. That's what good art is after all, isn't it? When the artwork produces enough material that keeps you occupied at a higher order of meditative cognition, can we speak of art being eternal...? The credits of The White Lotus kept bringing to my mind Kipling's The White Man's Burden, and Brueghel's "On the Flight of Icarus." The first, because as today, the rich classes can easily give in to the discourse of anti-fate based capitalism, that their wealth is definitely well-justified, that anyone who hasn't attained it the same way, are either lazy, or just did not know what to aim for. Moreover, Brueghel's painting reminds us how life goes its own pace for each creature alive, regardless of what bombastic event may be taking place in the background. The truth of the matter lies somewhere in between all of this, and that is what makes life so inadvertently obscure, where every goddamn ridiculous thought, as long as it has its justifications somewhere, can find itself aligned with Truth, until we notice for some other being, somewhere, Truth is both valid for them and unknown to us, just like our first Truth was for the second Subject.

Get a load of this post above... If for some reason it doesn't appear, it is one guy (I think?) who confesses that as an addiction counsellor, he smokes weed heavily every day at work. Then go read the responses! Holy beJeezus, I knew this issue to be controversial, just hadn't seen an instance where people had no qualms about unloading their extreme prejudices towards this hypocrite (!).

I find the issue as being fertile for thought, and nowhere near as clear-cut as the responders posit, who mostly asked for the person's head be severed from host's body, after being shamed (and mud-slung at) for being such an ethical failure etc.

Why do we immediately assume that the addiction therapist is overstepping boundaries, committing workplace fraud, along with murdering thousands of mothers worldwide, just because they admit that either they are a) still using the substance(s) they claim to be helping others with, or b) are in recovery and relapse every now and then? Isn't this the most normal behaviour we'd expect from someone in active recovery? Why do we automatically infer that since they perform therapy in the field of addiction, they must be "beyond" that problem in their own lives? And even if they were, what is the flame that triggers such extreme reactions? Such intolerance?

That obviously has to do with the hypocrisy of the responder, however, as I said, there is an interesting point to think about?

Psychology, psychiatry and other areas of mental illness induced behaviour have to constantly be balancing on a tightrope that hovers above a surface replete with eggshells: If they act as if the therapist is in a position of authority, where the said problems have been seen/experienced/talked of/studied before therefore one has to steer clear of them at all time, they are charged with acting presumptuously; arrogance and pomp are two words that will be tossed around... Yet if they drop their level to Everyman, siding with those who still may be stricken by such disorders, then they are quacks who can't practice, or who try to practice what they preach and fail! The two positions are both irrational, unrealistic, and shameful for those who respond similarly, and they display the public's bias towards these areas of medicine, which, being more recent in human medical history, simply haven't had the chance to convince enough people in the diverse objections that arise to the field, as of yet. Since the issue is replete with icky emotions as well, the confusion and misapprehension is all too blatant unfortunately. Moreover, the public does not seem like it will be appeased any time soon, as the responses portray.

In any case, some of the more coolheaded handling of the issue may be posited thus:

First of all, the assumption that the councillor in mental disorders has seen and treated all related ailments, or knows the end of any process therein is terribly wrong, not only medically (as they are even more personalized than any other physiological ailment, thus do not carry treatment formulas that fit all who suffer) nor is it very humane to charge the therapist with a quasi-godlike stance, making them less susceptible to the said disorders. Not only are they are also human and complex like their fellows, the field actually has a self-therapeutic process for each therapist to undergo, called supervision. So the field already admits to the reality of the issue, but the public choose to ignore this obvious conclusion. Moreover, (probably thanks a bit to CBT) the field's incomplete self-analysis does not offer skill in the form of having gone "beyond" any of these ailments, but asserts that the trained therapist knows how to create an environment in which the analysand is provided with the safe, structured, methodical space in which they can work their own treatment out, not assume that they have already been treated successfully by the therapist and are thus guided through... This is very important in understanding how the field operates; so the therapist who "confesses" to the ethical dilemma, is actually not even in a position to be criticized in my opinion. The therapist isn't the one in rehab, do we have to be sure that they have already stopped taking substances? What is it to us in the end? If no one is able to tell that they are high, therefore aren't triggered, why are we hurling the proverbial stones at the poor councillors? We are the ones being treated, not them. At least not in said instance...

The other point is the actual discussion, which I think is still open by the way. Namely, does an addiction therapist need to have stopped using substances in their prior personal life, in order to treat anyone presently afflicted? If such were definitely true, then it goes to show that we should also expect all addiction therapists to have used, if not abused, these substances in order to begin treating their related disorders previously. Yet we all know that this is not the case (heck, I remember one shrink go, "LSD? Isn't that a type of TV?) Now this is a point I somewhat have an opinion that assumes that yes, each addiction specialist, must have had some experience with mind-altering substances, before attempting to treat their sufferers. This may not need to be in the form of a fullgrown IV heroin habit for decades, but I think it is fair to expect that they know what it is to get "high" at least? An eating disorder or addiction is very different than a disorder concerning narcotics. We cannot say that they are all addictions and leave it that. At least, in light of current research, I believe narcotics make a category of their own, under the title addiction.

Şimdiki kuşağın anlamadığı nokta şu: Vesayet rejimi vs deniyor ya, birincisi bir Çin'e gidin de vesayet görün, ikincisi, öyle ya da böyle insan yerine konma yolunda bir mesafe katetmiştik ülkece. Bazı iş yapma şekillerinde standartlar oluşuyordu ve gözetilen altın çıta insanlık adına iyi bir şey çıkarmaktı. Belki çok iyimsersin diyeceksiniz, evet ama iyimser olmak için sebep vardı, şu anda çok uzun zamandır karanlık bir tünelde yaşıyor olduğumuz için bunun nasıl ilginç ve nefes alması daha kolay bir ortam olduğunu anlayamamayı görebiliyorum ama o tarihlerde batının yaşam standartlarındaki bazı mantıklı koşulları kendimize mal etmemiz gerçekten bir başka Türkiye nin mümkün olduğunu hatırlattı. Şu anda ise o kazanımların tümü çöpte ve bir daha geri çıktığını benim görmem mümkün olmayacak korkarım. İdeolojilerinizle, namazınızla, ezanınız, batı karşıtı yasaklarınız ve yüksek vergilerinizle önümüzdeki 50 seneyi cehennemde geçireceğimiz belli artık, hayırlı olsun herkese... Ve de yolda yürürken, berbat kaldırımlarda sekerek arabalara çarpmadan kendinizi sağ salim yaya yoluna attıktan sonra kafanıza düşen saksı sizi öldürürse, sizi sevenler bunun üzüntüsüyle mahkeme vs koşturup, arkada bu hatayı işleyenler iki yüz bin tl yi tokaladığı için öldüğünüzle kalındığı zaman umarım bunları kastettiğimi bildiğinizi söyleyerek geleceği kucaklarsınız. Çünkü malesef batı hayat tarzı diye o kadar lafı edilen modern şehir hayatında vatandaşın böylesi dangalaklıklar karşısında haklarının olması da paketin içinde yer alıyor, artık o paket de hacamat oldu. Kısa dönemde kar eden olduysa afiyet olsun, ama pamuk ipliğine bağlı yaşam ancak çok geç olduğunda lanet kaldırıyor. Dişlerinizi sıkıp insan değil, böcek gibi öylesine güçlünün her daim çiğneyebileceği sıradan bir piyon olmayı sindirmeyi öğrenmek gerekecek. Reddit gibi platformlardaysa gençlerin aksine fazla vatandaş olmayı istediğini görüyorum. İsyanları daha yeni başladı...

Herşeyde kısa dönem karı ve hiç durmadan düdüklenme tehlikesiyle uğraşıp hayatımızı harcamaya devam o halde... Her köşe başında ya bizi dürtmek için esnaf, ya kendi iş kolumuz dahilindeki türlü simsarın ya da yakın arkadaşlarımızın bize geçirmesini seyretmek istemeyeceğiz haliyle ama artık işimizi gücümüz bunları def etmek olacak.

Şahsen en yakın arkadaşlarımdan dev kazık yemem acaip yakın zamanda oldu, hem de "40 ımı geçtim daha dost kazığı yemedim" diye gerine gerine gezdiğim yılın sonu küt diye 3-4 dev kazıkla kendime geldim.

İşimiz kültür-sanat yazı çizi diye sanırsın daha şerefli insanlar, emeğe saygı gosterip işleri bir şekilde düzgün yürütmeye gayret ederler sanırsın değil mi? Aksine, en pis kazık aklı çalışan tiplerin attığı kazıktır. Bir kaç dev kazık içerisinden beni en çok yaralayanı yazayım:

Bir yayınevi var, sahibi sözde-arkadaşımdı, batıyordu yayınevi, beraber çevirisini benim yapacağım bir kitabı basacak parası çıkışmıyordu, telif haklarını ben aldım, sonra hesaplaşırız dedik. Çeviriyi yaptım, gayet de iyi oldu, hatta yayınevi sahibi piyasada o kitap sayesinde yayınevinin batmaktan kurtulduğunu söylüyordu her yerde. Peki bana ne verdi? Çeviride anlaştığımız parayı veremeyeceğini söyledi, en sonunda elim mahkum, belli bir meblağ da karar kıldık, son birkaç yüz lirasını kitabın kopyalarıyla ödedi. Kitap aslında bayağı popüler oldu ancak kaç baskı olduğunu dahi bilemiyoruz, zira yayınevi sahibi, kültür bakanlığına her baskıda ekstra vergi vermemek için ilk baskı 2000 ise 8000 adet bandrol satın alıyor (nasıl yapıyorsa artık) ve müteakip baskıları birinci baskıymış gibi bandrolleyip piyasaya sürüyor. Yani belki 5, belki 6 baskı yaptı, hadi parasını geçtim, itibarını bile çok görmüş oldu bana... Kitap bir üçlemenin birincisiydi, ikinciyi o yaptı, şükür ben düzelttim, üçüncüyü bana sormadan haber vermeden harçlık ödemesi dahi yapmadığı bir üniversite öğrencisine yaptırmış, anca çıkarken haberim oldu, sorduğumda, "ticari bir öngörüde bulundum" gibisinden birşey geveledi... Kitap hala benim çevirimle -ve şükür ki hala ismimle- çıkıyor, umarım öyle kalır.

Bitmedi.... Bu yayınevinin bir çizgiroman serisi var, ingilizceye çevrilecek, hay hay dedim, parayı da yabancılar veriyor belli miktar, bir şey diyemedi verdi hepsini, ama aylar sonra beni arayıp "şu şu sayının düzeltmeleri geldi bir bakar mısın" dedi, hay hay dedim, açtım baktım, bu benim çevirim olamaz, korkunç bir ingilizce, ben yapmamışım ki bunu dedim, künyeye göz attım bir de ne göreyim? Benim ismimi kullanmış iyi mi? Aynı insanlara bir ton çevirim var, hiçbiri düzelti isteyerek geri dönmedi, buysa benim ismimde ama bilmediğim bir metin... Aradım sordum, pek utanmadı, aynen benim ismimi kullanmış, ya kabul ederler kolay olur diye öyle yaptım dedi... E kolay olmamış, geri gelmiş, dedim, evet işte bir baksana dedi... Daha fazla yazarsam tansiyonum yükseliyor, anlamışsınızdır skandalın boyutlarını umarım... Kendi dilini benimki gibi yutturmaya çalışmasının ne gibi bir faciaya dönüştüğünü görmüş olsa ve biraz özür dilemeye çalışsaydı... ama nerdeee...

Bakın bu adam benim hem emeğim hem itibarımdan ekmek yemeye devam ediyor, ve pek bir yaptırımım yok, bu hem düzenin eksikliği hem de kendisinin pişkinliği... En baştan arkadaşım olarak gördüğüm bu adam gece yarıları bilmediği konularda çeviriler alıp bana sorardı ve bırakın konuya bilmemeyi, dili bilmeyen bir insan ama sürümden tonlarca sayfa çeviri yapıyor hala, her kitabı hatalarla dolu, ama köşeleri kapmış, ne anlamı var itirazım ben de bilmiyorum.

Bunu yapmaya tenezzül edeceğini düşünmezdim hele hele yayınevi sahibi olan birisiyse bu... Ama işte Eski Türkiye filan diyoruz ya, bu adam iyileşebilecek bir potansiyeldi artık sadece bu şekil yürütüyor muhtemelen işi, ona da bu cesareti veren işte bu ülkedeki konjonktür... Ben bunu neden burada yazıyorum? Çünkü yavşak herif bir özür dilemeyi dahi çok gördü, dediğim gibi, birkaç baskı sonra benim ismimi de silecektir kitaptan... Ben de en fazla bulduğum yerde yapıştırırım bir tane, ki zaten bu pezevenk de ilk olmayacak bu tehdidi ettiğim...

Belki ben abartıyorumdur ama günümüz Türk toplumu benim şimdiye dek içinde yaşadığım en "toksik" toplum... Daha önce değindiğim dejenerasyon, bozulma, çözülme motiflerinden birinin daha incelemesi gibi olacak bu yazı haliyle sitem ve nostaljik bir geçmişe öykünme barındıracak, uyarıdır!

Zira öyle ya da böyle vatandaş yaratarak giriştiği toplum mühendisliğine bir tür fırsat eşitliğini galiba oturtmaya bir hayli yaklaşmışken son 20 senede bu kavramın da algısının da içi dışında çıkarıldı, zaten sorunlu bir medeniyet algımız vardı ve toplum hayat içi adab-ı muaşeretimiz muhtemelen osmanlı'dan beri iyice değişmiş olmanın yanı sıra, inanılmaz kötüye evrildi. Öyle ki, makul vatandaş olmanın hiç ama hiç bir teşviği kalmamasını bırak, şu anda parmakla dalga geçmek üzere gösterilecek hale gelindi. Zamanında vergi vermek, herhangi bir standardize sınav, mülakat vs de kendi bileğinin hakkına güvenip yarışma arkadaşlara başarılar dilemek? Geçmişe mazi... Artık torpilini kullanmamak enayilik, vergisini vermek salaklık, arkadaşını dahi ayaküstü düdüklememek, günümüz düzenine ayak uyduramamış ihtiyar pinpon diye taşak geçilmeye kapı aralıyor. Aynı şekilde, gayrimeşru hayat sürmek istemeyen, sıradan, düzgün vatandaşlık yapayım diyen kişi bunu kimseye söylemeden sessizce hayatında savrulmadan, hedefe konup söğüşlenmeden yaşayıp ölebildiyse, ne mutlu diyerek gidecektir bu dünyadan... Bir zamanlar sosyo-ekonomik sınıflar ötesi bir "efendilik" kavramıyla büyüyen nesiller, şu anda mafyatik racon kesmeyi beceremeyince, evlenecek kız bile bulamayacak hale gelmiş olabilir. İşin kötüsü bu düzene sesini çıkarmayanlar, şu anda bir şekilde işleri rast gidenler (yani düzenden nemalanmanın bir yolunu bulmuş ve saygınlık haketmeyen bir şahıs), ancak ne kadar çabuk işlerin tersine dönebileceğini ve hedefe konanın kendisi olabileceğini anlamakta yavaş... Daha da kötüsü, iş yaptığı için kimse ödüllendirilmeyip aksine bastırıldığı veya önü kesildiği için, tel tel ülke her yerden dökülüyor, her dakika kelle koltukta yaşıyoruz. Eskiden de kısmen bu vardı, ama şimdi görüyoruz ki 2000 ler öncesi eski türkiye maşallah bugüne nazaran Lüksemburg'muş....

Artık çukura mı düşeceğiz, hastaneler arası bir tezgaha mı kurban gideceğiz, gerçekten işimiz allah'a kaldı, ki laf aramızda ben allah olsam biraz bozulurdum Türkiye müslümanlarına. Sürekli ona referans verilmesi allah kavramını biraz sekreteri gibi kullanmaya benziyor, bu kolaycılığı sanki tapılan ilah görmeyecekmiş gibi ona havale ediyoruz, ona bırakıyoruz vs vs. Sanki işi gücü yok hababam de babam türk milletinin dayısını yengesini ispiyonlamasıyla uğraşacak. Bir de meşru bir islamcı hükümet de işin cılkını çıkarınca artık ülkenin ofisboyu yaptılar allahlarını ama bunun kimse farkında değil...

Bu konuyu mutlaka daha önce de ele almıştım, ama bağlantının kaçınılmaz olduğunu düşünmeye başladım. Eski Türkiye'den modern-öncesi Yeni Türkiye'ye yaptığımız sekme, birey olma yönündeki medeniyet hamlesini sekteye uğrattı ve aslımıza rücu ettik, yani feodal tebaa içindeki isimsiz biat eden özneye doğru bir hareket başlattık diyorduk. Bu mesele haliyle sadece insanın kendisiyle ilgili bir tanımlama karmaşasından ibaret değil, aksine, zaten bu tersine hareketin aslında kendi üzerine katlanmayı deneyen cogitonun bunu reddetmesiyle başladığını varsayabiliriz. Bunun toplumsal hayattaki bir karşılığı için de özür dileme veya hata kabul etme, hatadan öğrenme, kendini düzeltme gibi modern faziletleri elimizin tersiyle reddetmeyi göstermiştik. Bana sorarsanız mesele burasıyla sınırlı değil, maalesef böylesi bir tersine hareketin bilinçdışı dahi olsa, farklı farklı izdüşümleri, gösterdikleri mevcut, ve sonuçlar sadece özür dileyen özneyi unutmamızla kalsa yine iyi dedirtecek türden... Zira, kendi üstüne katlanmayan cogito dışarıya daha çok bakacaktır diyebiliriz, çoğunlukla da kimlik konularında bir referans aramak için, ya da psikoloji teriminde kullanıldığı şekilde "identification" için....

Ancak, kendimizi yakınsadığımız öznenin de kendimiz gibi hatadan muaf, özür dilemez, affetmez ama aynı zamanda kendimiz gibi derinlikten de yoksun olduğunu varsaymaya meyilli hale geliyoruz sanki. Böylece aslında batını oyununu bozmuyor, aksine uzun vadede toplumsal huzursuzluk fitilin ateşleyecek bir küstahlık yerleştiriyoruz birbirimizle olan ilişkilerimizde. Bireyselin olmadığı yerde öncelikle kimsenin özgün bir fikri, isteği, talebi, düşüncesi olamaz diyoruz bir yerde: "Sen zaten maşasın, dışarıdan fonlananlar, yerli işbirlikçiler" vs. gibi kalıpları düşünün. Herhangi bir konuda kimsenin dışarıdan bir fiştek yemeden bir fikirle çıkagelemezmiş gibi, sağı solu fondaşlıkla suçlarken aslında insanların bireysel özgünlüklerini, "agency" lerini hiçe sayıyor, tanıdık bildik bir düşüncesi yoksa, yani aynı yerde yaşıyor olmamıza rağmen aynı şeyi düşünmüyorsak hayretlere dahi gark olmadan doğrudan başkasının etkisinde kalmış olduğunu öne sürüyoruz. Bunun aslında ne kadar seviyesiz, küstah, çocukça ve ahlaksız bir sav olduğunu görebiliyor musunuz? Yetişkinliğimizin elimizden alınması gibi bir durum bu, sen oy veriyorsun ama, biz senin kalbini ciğerini biliyoruz ne de olsa tavrı, ilk başta çirkin olmasına çirkin bir yargı, ama daha sonra, düşüncenin mantıksal sonucunu aradığımızda faşizan her tür toptancı uygulamaya çanak tutacak ideal ortamın ihtiyaç duyduğu insan tipine doğru hep beraber evrilme adımları atıyoruz gibime geliyor benim. Örneğin X de özellikle rastladığım bir eleştiri kalıbı, beğenmediği bir yargı içeren yazı hakkında ilk satırı dahi şöyle bir göz atıp, "sonrasını okumadım" diyerek yargının ne olduğunu bilse de bilmese de hakaretamiz bir muhalifliği utanmadan gün be gün dolaşıma tekrar tekrar sokuyor. Karşısın da neye karşısın be adam? Okuman lazım hiç olmazsa nefretini hakedecek bir yargı olduğundan emin olman adına dahi olsa...

Hazır 90'lara hazin bir dönüş yapmışken, bu mesele üzerine üç-beş kelam edeyim istedim, zira hem yakın zamanda şaşırtıcı derecede hayatıma müdahalesi oldu bu bağlamın, hem de sanırım bu konuyu önünde sonunda hep beraber, toplum olarak irdelemek zorundayız, çünkü Türkiye hakikaten zoru başardı ve geriye doğru evrilmeyi becerebilen tarihteki tek tük milletten olabiliriz... Ne demek istiyorum? Bugünün gözde deyişiyle, "şimdi, şöyle söyliim ben size...":

Ahlaksızlık dediğimiz olgunun bugün çok revaçta olduğunu söylemek moda, ve maalesef ben de katılıyorum, ancak ahlaktan kastımın ne olduğunu ve Yeni Türkiye'de ki ahlak konusunda değişen kodlardan benim gördüklerimden bahsetmek istiyorum.

Yalan söylemek (konuşmak da deniyor nedense ama ben hala eski halini tercih edeceğim) artık sadece toplumca kabul gören bir davranış değil, aynı zamanda istenilen bağlamda kullanabileceğiniz bir silah adeta... Karşı çıkacak olmayacaktır, ancak "algı yönetimi" yaptığınız veya kalabalıkları arkanıza aldığınız ölçüde... Eski Türkiye'de yalan hala toplumsal kabul görmeyen, ayıp sayılan, büyüklere, efendi insanlara yakışmadığı düşünülen bir insani davranışken bugün yalan son derece normal, her yerde herkesin durumu kurtarmak için başvurmaktan çekinmesinin gereksiz olduğu, doğru yerde kullanılıp işinizi gördüğü takdirde, "helal olsun" almasanız da, kimsenin dönüp sizden kötü bahsetmeyeceği bir mesele olmuş çıkmış gördüğüm kadarıyla... Başta kız çocukları babaya yalan söylemeye o denli alışıyor ki çocukken, ileriki yaşlarda bu davranıştan vazgeçmesi zaten zorken, bir de toplumsal kabul olunca işin içinde, kimin size nerede yalan söyleyeceği belli olmuyor hale geldi. İşin kötüsü, en baştakinden en alttakine herkes bunu yapıyor artık, ve benim gibi enayilerin dürüst kalma konusundaki ısrarı nedense hiçbir değer taşımıyor kimsenin gözünde. Olsun varsın, bence halen dürüst olunmalı, ancak siz dürüstsünüz diye maalesef benzerlerinizden bunu beklemek anlamsız, aksine, çoğu insan en iyi ihtimalle "abartmak" suretiyle size yalan söyleyecektir, arada size de enayi demeyi ihmal etmemeye gayret edecektir. Bundan korunmanın yolunu ben bilemiyorum, 24 saat tetikte olmak gerekiyor desem, hayat böyle geçmez, ama aklınızda olsun, yalan söyleyecek bir çok insan olacak artık... Bunların üst kademede olanlarından korkmak lazım, hakim, savcı, avukat, doktor vs.. gibi... Diğer davarların yalanları? Artık kısmet diyeceğiz... Bir de tabi tek başına yakalarsanız yalancıyı, işiniz kolay; korkak insanlar olduklarından ekseriya, hemen yüzleştiğince baklayı ağzından çıkaracaklardır, ama arkasından bu yalanın kötü duruma düşürdüğü insana kıl olan başkaları da meseleye şahitse, bilin ki bu yalan alınıp evrilip çevrilip sadece size karşı kullanılmayacak, mümkün mertebe nüfusunuza işlercesine somutlaştırılmaya çalışılacaktır. Eh, yalancı yalancının şahitliğine her zaman ihtiyaç duyacak, o yüzden o kozu kaybetmemek için o yalana katılıp gaslighting in allahıyla karşılaşırsanız şaşırmamalısınız. Burada dedikoduya da değinmek gerekiyor. Eski Türkiye'de yine dedikodu, gıybete dönmedikçe nispeten zararsız bir insan davranışı olarak görülmeye meyilli olduysa da, günümüzde dedikodu = gıybet diye düşünmek gerekiyor. Dahası, bu gıybetin de muhtemelen bir yalan olma ihtimali de yüksek. Gıybetin doğası ne kadar sansasyonelse, bilin ki o kadar tutacağı kesin... Belki zararını görmezsiniz, eğer şanslıysanız, ancak o gıybetin hiç beklemediğiniz çevrelerce orada burada seslendirilip kuyunuzu kazmaya and içmiş birileri tarafından kullanılma olasılığını da mutlaka bir kenara yazın. Yeni Türkiye gıybete bayılıyor dostum, ve yapacak pek bir şey de yok. Bir şey yok derken kastettiğim aklınızda yer etmesini engellemeniz filan değil, o zaten sizin derdiniz, asıl dikkatinizi çekmek istediğim, hayatınıza o gıybet çok rahat yön verebilir hale gelecek, geldi... Yani iş başvurunuzda olsun, mahkemede olsun, olmadık yerde karşınıza çıkabilir ve kanıtlanmasa bile kimsenin kanıt arayacağınız sanmıyorum, hele ki ecnebilerin deyimiyle "juicy" bir gıybet ise... Bir gıybet peşinde yıllarımızı kaybetmemiz son derece olası maalesef... Nazar kavramı hiç bu kadar gerçekçi bir tını edinmemişti sanırım...

Yeni Türkiye, modernlikten vazgeçmiş bir Türkiye, benden söylemesi: Modernlik, bir çok tanımının yanı sıra bence en fazla bireyin birey olma yolunda kendini analiz edebilme yetisinin ön planda olduğu bir toplumsallık öngörür. Cogito'nun kendi üzerine kıvrılabilmesi biliyorsunuz Kant'tan beri zaten ön planda bir felsefi yetkinlik, ve bana sorarsanız, modern dediğimizi insan/ulus, öncelikle kendi davranışlarını ve şahsiyetini yansız/nesnel şekilde inceleme, değerlendirme ve gerekirse hatasını/yanlışını düzeltme/görme gibi çağdaş medeniyetin olmazsa olmaz birkaç gelişmiş insan faaliyetini kapsıyor. Tabi bunun altında öncelikle feodal yapıdan çıkmış insanların, insan hakları sahibi vatandaşlar olarak herkesle eşdeğer bir kıymete sahip olduğu varsayımı yatıyor, ve sanırım Yeni Türkiye bu değerden vazgeçti. Hoş, birey kendisini hem birey hem vatandaş saymasına sayıyor, ancak haklarını sayma konusundaki isteği nedense sorumluluklar söz konusu olduğunda ortalık bir anda çöl gibi ıssız bir hale bürünüyor. Hakları bağırmakta beis görmüyor hiçbir vatandaşımız ancak sorumluluklarımız konusunda sesini çıkaran pek yok. Her neyse, bu işin başka bir boyutu, ancak işin özü, Yeni Türkiye'de insanın kendi kendisini ölçüp, biçip, nesnel şekilde tartma mevhumu, en iyi ihtimalle enayilik olarak görülüyor. Bu yüzden, hiçbir yerde hiç kimsenin ne hatasını kabullendiğini görüyoruz, ne de özür dilediğini... Bu iki -eskiden olsa- insanın olgunluğuna işaret eden davranış, günümüzde en hafif tabiriyle godoşluk olarak görülüyor... Hepimize geçmiş olsun, zira hiç bir şey olmasa çok sinir bozucu bir durum, herkesin her konuda her şekilde haklı ve geri tepmez olması.... Nezaket zaten egoist bir çerçeveye yerleşmiş çarpık bir pragmatizmin prizmasından ışığın geçmesi misali kırıla kırıla elde avuçta en fazla sessizce telafuz edilen "e tamam hadi haklısın kes" gibi bir kabullenişe evriliyor, o da özür dileyecek özneyi tek başına yakalarsan... Kalabalıkların gücüyle ayaktaysa ve hatasını kabul etmesini bekliyorsan vay haline... Hele hele özne bir erkek ve arkada destekçisi bir kadın mı var? Unut gitsin, hatta terket ortamı, zira olay senin bacağına emanet takılana dek devam edebilir, sen can hıraş ortalıkta debelenirken, artık ambulans gelir de seni alır da kaybetmezse (geçen hafta ortaya dökülen yenidoğan skandalını hatırlayalım) nezaket borcu beklediğine bin pişman olmak garanti...

Güzel ülkemizde bağımlılık çalışmalarının (addiction studies), ya da daha patolojik bir alt dalı olarak "madde kullanım bozukluğu"nun hali ortada: Esrar kelimesi kah eroin için kah marijuana için ama mutlak suretle 'anarşit/k' bir faliyete dahil olarak anılan bu tabu sosyal mesele bize aslında hiç yabancı değil. Öte yandan, devlet babanın ısrarla salladığı parmağı zevkle yemek suretiyle toplumun keyifle konuyla ilgili çıkan her tür yasaklayıcı faliyeti sorgusuz sualsiz benimsemesi sonucu, ne hukuki pratiklerdeki korkunç çıkarcı yaklaşımlara ses çıkarılabiliyor, ne de oluşan binlerce mağdurun haykırışlarını duyuyoruz. Bir tarafta genç bir mühendislik öğrencisinin üzerinde yarım cıgara bulunduğundan neredeyse tüm ailenin telef olduğu trajediler var, diğer taraftaysa bir siyasi şahsiyetin oğlu, 3 ton maddeyi kişisel kullanım diye saydırıp mahkemeden serbest çıkıyor.

Ya bir dış güç olarak ancak yabancı memleketlerden ithal bir dert, ya da bu görüşün mikro yansıması olarak ancak "bir arkadaş" yüzünden aile bireyimizi kurban ettiğimiz, suçun her zaman başkasında olduğu bir talihsizlik örneği. Aslında dünyanın her tarafında olduğu gibi Anadolu'da da insanlık tarihi kadar kadim bir gerçeklik, hem de yakın geçmiş dahil, dünyanın gidişatında rol sahibi olduğumuz ama bilmiyormuş gibi takılınan bir realite.

Sabah-akşam haberlerde "yasaklı madde" kelimesinden öte bilgisinin verilmemesi acaba merakı arttırmak için mi? Ya bipleniyor zanlıların maddeyle ilgili sözleri, ya da mikrofona konuşan başka şeye dikkat etmese de "yasaklı madde" demeyi ihmal etmeyecek denli korkuyor bu konuda herhangi laf etmeye çalışan... Yine de sabah programlarının çılgın marjinal suç dünyalarında eksiksiz artık her vakada bip olarak duyduğumuz bir konu...

Öte yandan, bu kimyasalların meşruluğu o kadar tartışmalı bir konumda tutuluyor ki devlet tarafından, bu maddelere benzer eczane ürünlerini tüketmek durumunda kalan hasta ve hasta yakınları hem ilaçlarını bulmada korkunç zorlanıyor, hem de devletin bu titizliğini kendine dert edinen muhafazakar bazı eczacılarımızın, soran her müşteriye potansiyel terörist gibi bakmasına kadar tuhaf önyargıları sanki bu devlet bile bile besliyor, büyütüyor. Böylece aslında olan biteni konuşmaya başlamadan, bir kuru gürültü çıkartan tartışmalarda vakit kaybedip, bir süre sonra köşemize çekilmeyi tercih ediyoruz. Artık bu işe bulaşanları ise ancak Allah kurtarsın diyebiliyoruz...

Bunları söylemenin yaşlılık olduğunu söyleyip küt diye engel koydu küçük yavşak! Engel koymanın halen bende bir duygusal yükünün olması bir yana, bir insanı önce haddin olmayan sıfatlarla niteleyip açıklamasını beklemeden siktirip gitmek, sonra da varlığını senin için silmek, pek öyle "gençlik" "cool"luk filan değil, basbayağı denyoluk! Bu yeni gelen neslin bence en çirkin tarafı bu tutarsız, ölçüsüz, arsız kaypaklığı... Sürekli beni söylemediğim bir cümleyle yargılar, iyi de bunu ben söylemedim ki sen söylüyorsun sürekli diyince de "alıngansın!" (+ engel). İnsanlar arası iletişim yeni keşfetilmiş birşey değil, ya da z kuşağı ortaya çıkana kadar karanlık çağlarda değildik iletişim bilimlerinde. Artık bu benden öncesi de, sonrası da Tufan kafasının biraz fazla faydacı olup her kulba uymadığını birilerinin söylemesi lazım. İletişimi yanlış kavramışsan bunu belirtmek "alınganlık" veya "yaşlılık" değil, ama ne kadar da kolay fırlatıveriyorlar böyle lafları ve etkisinden en ufak bir haberleri olmasın diye de iyice cüretkar takılmaları gerekiyor. Ama sen onların hoşuna gitmeyen bir tarafını iletirsen vay haline! Eğer adam yerine koyar da lafını dinlemeye kalkarsa sıkılıp basıyor engeli daha ortasına gelmeden cümlenin, ya da baştan dinlemeyip bunu da bir tür muhalefet olarak gördüğünü belirtiyor. Sanırım şöyle büyük bir fark var z ve ondan önceki kuşaklar arasında: Diğer kuşaklarda insanın içinin boş olduğu ve zamanla bilgiyle, tecrübeyle dolduğunu öne süren bir varsayım hakimken, z kuşağında, biraz canım o an ne istiyorsa bende var zaten diyen, herşeyin en iyisini zaten onun anlamış, bilmiş ve öne sürmüş olduğu önyargısı fazlasıyla ön planda. Öğrenmeye değer pek birşey yokmuş gibi davranıyorlar, tabi böylece "gelenek" ten bihaber görünüyorlar. Sinema mı, "kimseyi seyretmiyorum, etkilenmek istemem!" Edebiyat mı? "Aman o beni okudu mu ki?" ...

Diğer kuşaklar olarak, yazılı bilginin bir şekilde dünyada "kaldığı," medeniyet denilen dizgede bir birikim yarattığını hepimiz kabul etmiş gibi kitaplardan başımızı kaldırmazdık. Nasıl ki kitap okumamız arttıkça cehaletimizin de sürekli genişlediğini anlıyoruz, benzer bir paradoks, z kuşağının yazıyla ilişkisinde de mevcut: Ben, bu bireyin ve temsil ettiklerinden o denli nefret ediyorum ki, onun herhangi bir üretimini de onun bir parçası sayıp, kaydadeğer dahi bulmuyorum. Ama, onu yenmek için de onun taktiklerini öğrenmem gereken yer de yazıları. Ama onlardan -ve dolayısıyla yazılarından- nefret ediyoruz ve okumuyoruz. Peki nereden öğreneceğiz karşı olmak istediğimiz fikirleri?

İnsan ilk gençlikte hakikaten bayağı iğrenç bir şahsiyet oluyor, kafa göz yararak iletişim, sürekli hakaret, suçlayıcı yargılar ve sızlanma, ancak kesinlikle kendisine toz kondurmama... Hiçbir konuda eşitlik hoşlarına gitmiyor sanki hep bir ezen-ezilen arama, kurban