Known for his deep thoughts and captivating storytelling, author Gündüz Vassaf gives an in-depth study of Caravaggio, one of the iconic figures of art history. Recounting his seven-year artistic journey with Caravaggio, Vassaf shows how his perspective on detail shifted throughout the process. The author also examines the effects of digitalization on literature and art. Gündüz Vassaf leads readers on a truly inspiring journey

Hande Aral Uluk: Hello, my name is Hande. I’d like to jump right into my first question. You often talk about wandering inside a culture, spending time there, and living in the moment. So, how do you decide when choosing the places you want to live?

Gündüz Vassaf: Which country I visit and where I stay usually happen by chance. But in recent years, there is something I enjoy that I call “slow tourism.” Instead of rushing around a place, I want to sit down and let the city revolve around me. I love settling in as if I were a local, talking to its people, and breathing in its atmosphere. After that, the story of getting lost in a new city of losing myself begins. The feeling of being lost is both a little scary and enjoyable, and you start challenging yourself. Questions like, “Will I be able to find my way without asking anyone, or will I be forced to ask someone?” start swirling in my mind. When I look at it, there’s a distinct joy in asking someone a question too, because you connect with people. Sometimes you follow someone who just stepped out of the bakery, wondering where they are going with that bread in their hand, what kind of place they live in, and a story emerges. Rather than choosing a city or a place, it is much nicer to chase after the coincidences and the things that wink at me wherever I am.

Sedat Erol: After reading The Painter’s Rebellion, I’d like to turn to Caravaggio through the lens of space and the church; there was a passage you described there. You say that Caravaggio, as a religious ecologist, cleanses the traces of the Vatican’s filth that pollute our souls by transforming them into paintings. Could we hear from you about the Caravaggio from your pen and his relationship with the church?

G.V: I’ve read what art historians have written about Caravaggio. They view him as a wretched, psychopathic man, yet also as a good, devout painter. As for why they see him as a devout painter, it’s because his work always centers on the church. He always painted saints, the Virgin Mary, and Jesus, but painting these subjects doesn’t mean he was devout the opposite could just as easily be true. Imagine you’re a photographer and they send you to a football game, but you hate football. You don’t have to love the sport to do your job; it’s simply your job. He, too, didn’t have the luxury of painting anything else. In the early 1600s, landscape painting and flower paintings were only just beginning, and those who wanted to make a living from painting were forced to work for the Vatican. Caravaggio doesn’t reflect the Vatican’s beliefs, and that’s when I started questioning him. Perhaps he was writing letters to the Vatican about his own beliefs, embarking on a dangerous journey.

He was essentially risking his life, yet he still decided to paint anyway. In the 1600s, the Inquisition was active, and those who fell out with the Vatican were beheaded or burned at the stake. During this period, Caravaggio created paintings that shocked the Vatican; when depicting religious figures, he avoided using religious symbols. While many paintings of Jesus from that era featured a halo, he did not use one. Whereas painters before him depicted the attire of the nobility, he portrayed the common people on the street.

To those who asked, “Why are there no angels?” he replied, “Show me an angel and I’ll paint one.” In other words, he began to fundamentally question the Vatican and he didn’t stop there. For example, one of the Mary figures he created among the poor turned out to be Rome’s most famous prostitute of that era. In reality, his head should have rolled immediately, but who was going to report him by saying, “You turned a prostitute into Mary”? If a cardinal said, “You did this,” he’d be asked, “How do you know that woman?” In short, he maintained a delicate balance and took risks. “Caravaggio made me a more patient person. As I followed him to different museums, life slowed down, and I began to live and read more deeply.”

“Caravaggio made me a more patient person. As I followed him to different museums, life slowed down, and I began to live and read more deeply.”

H.A.U: You embarked on a long journey with Caravaggio. You spent about seven years writing the book, shared so much time with him, and dedicated a lot of time to the church. Did Caravaggio change you during this process?

Caravaggio made me a more patient person. It kept me quite far from Istanbul and my family, but it was worth it. I stopped looking for new things, like “I’ll go here, I’ll see that.” As I followed Caravaggio through different museums, life slowed down, and I began to live and read more deeply. I had never really looked closely at his paintings before, but now I examine them in detail, as well as from a broader view. I pay attention to his characters, the models he used in his work; there’s simply no end to looking at paintings. Back then, I’d go to any museum out of cultural snobbery. You look at a few paintings, then you get bored, of course, you don’t understand a thing, and you just walk quickly past. Sometimes I felt embarrassed in front of the guards, wondering if they thought, “Does this guy not understand paintings? He’s just walking through so fast.” Because it’s as if they’ve crammed a shopping mall’s mass merchandise into museums. But you go to see one specific painting nothing else. Then, paintings become something completely different, and I learned that from Caravaggio.

H.A.U: Do you identify with Caravaggio, or do you feel a connection to him?

G.V: Unlike the painters of his era, Caravaggio didn’t dress in a bourgeois way. He had a black jacket, black pants, and a scarf, and he wore them until they were completely in tatters. Yet most painters were quite particular about their appearance. I didn’t care much about how I lived either. For instance, when I was a professor at Boğaziçi University, I had a lifestyle that wasn’t typical for an academic.

Back then, the university’s general secretary wrote for the Cumhuriyet Newspaper. I was both writing and reading it, and we’d chat occasionally. One day, the general secretary invited me to his office and said, “The police are uncomfortable with you, and that’s why they’ve been tailing you.” In those days, people in Türkiye being followed was quite normal. The police were bothered because they couldn’t reconcile my lifestyle with that of a university professor. Because I wasn’t just staying at home every single night. Since they were young guys who had never been to a university, the image of a professor in their minds must have been completely different. They complained because they couldn’t see me as fitting into a university, and Caravaggio was a bit like that too.

Umut Yiğit: In Caravaggio’s work, there’s a sense of action rather than mere depiction. He narrates an event, and to understand it, you don’t just look at the painting you have to step into the scene. That’s how you describe it, too. You also say palaces. Is the truth we call “reality” about crossing this bridge?

G.V: It’s hard to live in many worlds at once. To feel a sense of belonging to all of them without actually belonging to any, and to have that empathy. Building that empathy isn’t so easy. But when in London, instead of looking at a Londoner and asking, “How are they different from me?” it’s important to look and ask, “Who is this person?” By observing, trying to understand and internalize, we can overcome prejudices. It’s possible to do this. Dostoevsky does this very well in Crime and Punishment, his protagonist is a murderer. So, perhaps putting ourselves in the place of a tree branch, saying, “The wind is swaying me,” and trying to feel that, is what’s important. Then your own seriousness fades away, and you find yourself in a much more playful, joyful, and adventurous life. I’m both swaying at the end of a branch and I’m a rusty ship it becomes a whole different kind of fun.

U.Y: The real question is not ‘How am I any different from this?’ but simply Who is this person?

G.V: Even beyond the question of “Who is this?”, I am that person. I am not trying to be anyone, because what matters to me is that I am nobody. In other words, it’s about breaking free from my own conditions, my own circumstances. Because if we were together every single day, we’d start to resemble one another; we’d fall under each other’s influence. It would start to look like a uniform. You’ve been working in the same place for many years and there’s a team spirit, but bringing someone else into the team might not be a bad idea either.

“Human relationships are also an art, but we don’t dwell on it much. We either speak freely or get stuck in stereotypes.”

Sedat Erol: In your narratives, I sometimes thought of the narrator as you, but sometimes it was someone else. What kind of person was the narrator in your eyes? Who was the narrator telling the novel, experiencing the things there? For example, were you always the one sitting in the church?

G.V: I wanted it to be me, and at the same time, I didn’t want it to be me. Then you fall into a contradiction, asking both “who is it?” and “could this be possible?” That’s just the kind of person I am. I always tell myself I couldn’t have done that, but I did. The person sitting in the church was both me and the narrator, but I didn’t do everything that happened there. There were some things that crossed my mind, like the “Farting” story. I didn’t do that because I didn’t want to bother anyone, but it could have been a game. That’s how farting enters into literature it’s a literary reference. If it can happen in a church, it can happen anywhere. Human relationships are also an art, but we don’t dwell on it much. We either speak freely or get stuck in stereotypes.

H.A.U: In the novel, your character says, ‘Art doesn’t serve as a guide; it doesn’t try to change the world.’ So we tend to ascribe a lot of meaning to art. How do you view this?

G.V: Not lying, being sincere is just like human relationships, and doing that in different languages. A painter does it with their brush, a writer with words, a musician with music. In fact, the relationships we build with each other are all a work of art. Not hurting someone, loving, discussing our thoughts by listening to them. These are human relationships, but at the same time, art. We don’t dwell on this much. We speak freely or we get locked into patterns. We set patterns like these are things to be talked about with a teacher, a friend, a lover. Then human relationships cease to be art and become a uniform, a lie. If you have a mission, you are lying. Because life does not consist of a single mission. Even while you have that mission, your mind can wander to a different mission, you can question, and there is no end to this. Your art and mission must be within all these endless things. This is about not being able to belong to a place, an environment. It’s about being afraid to perform as required or about “what am I going to say.” Consistency is always expected, but the universe is not consistent. In physics, small consistencies are found, but everything is built on a great uncertainty. Dark matter, dark energy we don’t know ninety percent of these. In this case, how can what we know be consistent? You can see consistency under a small microscope, but there is no such thing; if there were, people wouldn’t change. The fifteen-year-old me and the forty-year-old me are not the same. I am not the same person, man, lover, and I am a completely different person.

Burak Avcı: Has the emergence of artificial intelligence changed our understanding of art? Can works produced by artificial intelligence possess any artistic qualities? What makes art art?

G.V: We’ve even started asking the question, ‘Should we call it art, or shouldn’t we?’ They held a Biennial in Romania, and the curator was artifi cial intelligence. In Japan, there’s a young woman who’s a painter; her paintings are selling and making money, and people have started calling this art. Many writers and illustrators have begun incorporating artificial intelligence into their own work. A blend of human and artifi cial intelligence is beginning to emerge.

B.A: Something is being produced, but is it possible to feel that taste and texture? The question of “where is art in this” comes to mind.

G.V: By inventing words in our speech, we have drifted away from a reality, from our purity. You know how cats perceive, feel, and talk to each other in a thousand different ways. We created an artificial world by imprisoning these in our words. Because those words are not my feelings, my thoughts; they are just an effort to express them. No word expresses it so well except for “yes” and “no,” and even they do not.

H.A.U: At the end of your book, we come across a QR code leading to a digital petition. How do you view these kinds of reflexes emerging from social media?

G.V: It’s a way of clearing one’s conscience, simply because it’s so easy. We sign something and say, “I’ve done my part.” At the same time, it raises awareness and opens new windows. People say, “This bothers us, let’s unite over it” there’s a yearning for unity. While ideologies, religions, and family used to bring us together, now campaigns do. This is an incredible thing; even if it just eases our conscience, it still makes us better. It strips us of our old affiliations and uniforms, inviting us toward universality. These people would never have come together so easily in the past.

S.E: A single action on social media can completely wipe out a person’s past. I was thinking about this in relation to Bruno how do you evaluate this current trend?

G.V: Bruno was in serious trouble back then. Because he was trying to unify religions, sharing knowledge about space, and claiming that other planets existed. That’s why he was a threat to the entire system. In a way, I idolize Bruno because he is one of the world’s few martyrs of thought. I’m even launching a campaign; I’ll submit a petition to the Pope. Yet, the very man I idolize is actually someone who viewed women as fifth-class citizens. Then I find myself questioning and lynching him, telling myself I shouldn’t idolize him. In truth, I am both idolizing and lynching him at the same time. When we decontextualize people from history and look only at their actions, they become untouchable, and the fact that they are human catches us by surprise. We even start gossiping about what they did. If we hadn’t idolized him in the first place, we wouldn’t have even taken his mistreatment of women seriously. Because so many systems are built exactly this way. “History is so frequently used to impose identities and create enemies that whoever controls the reins of history whoever possesses that knowledge drags you behind them.”

“History is so frequently used to impose identities and create enemies that whoever controls the reins of history whoever possesses that knowledge drags you behind them.

S.E: Or we could say it’s a direct consequence of idolization, that’s how I feel.

G.V: It’s in Nâzım Hikmet’s poetry [one of Türkiye’s most renowned 20th-century poets]. He openly admits that sometimes he lies just to spare someone’s feelings, or for no reason at all. In other words, he does wrong, he lies, but he also admits to doing these things. Yet those who idolize Nâzım Hikmet forget that he said such things; they don’t want to hear it. For example, Aziz Nesin [a prominent Turkish satirist and author] also wanted to be famous, and there was a rivalry between him and Nâzım Hikmet. Within that rivalry, Aziz Nesin wanted to portray Nâzım Hikmet as a human being. He explained what he didn’t like about him, and as a result of what he wrote, he was expelled from the writers’ union. There’s no limit to where idolization can lead.

U.Y: You said that historical consciousness is no longer something I believe is necessary in our relationship with the system. Has history become an instrument of the system for you?

G.V: When you asked that question, I began to wonder if that was what I’d actually been thinking. Come to think of it, I’ve often said that history has spoken to me in recent years, but I can’t say the same about art. From cave paintings to the present day, there’s just so much out there. Throughout history, everyone has tailored a garment looking from today back to yesterday, based on the spirit of their time, their beliefs, and the tools at their disposal. History is so frequently used to assign identities and create enemies that whoever holds it, whoever knows it, drags you along. They all construct sentences like, “This is who we are.” It’s a disgrace. Whether those claims are true or not doesn’t matter at all. Who wrote them, when, and under what circumstances none of that matters anyway, since most of the information is incomplete.

They’re using history to brainwash people and manufacture a sense of belonging. I love reading history; the more I read, the more I think, “Wow, so that actually happened.” I like the idea that country names or the shapes of continents might change, or that women might have discovered all this. I get lost in the fairy tales of the past, and I love that, but the world that could be built tomorrow interests me even more. I’m far more interested in space exploration than in the French Revolution. Archaeological findings fascinate me because history changes so rapidly. For example, they discovered Göbeklitepe [the world’s oldest temple site, dating back 12,000 years], and history instantly shifted back by five thousand years. We started as hunter-gatherers, then transitioned to agriculture all of that is nonsense. So it’s a back-and-forth, but it all happened simultaneously, and yet we went on for centuries with those memorized facts.

H.A.U: While reading your work, one of the recurring themes that caught my attention is the question of belonging. At one point in the novel, you state that our protagonist must become rootless. You claim that migration and love possess this transformative power. Do you think we’ve managed to achieve this at the point we have reached today?

G.V: Let’s say a child is born. The father is Polish, the mother is Ecuadorian, and the child is born in France. Another child comes from a Turkish and Kurdish family but was born in Germany. They get married and have children. When you look at it, this renders all those identities meaningless. Our son has three identities: Turkish, American, and British. It was very easy to dissolve his sense of identity because, since he has three, he never had to choose between two. If he were stuck between two, he’d start questioning it, so I ask him, “Ziya, are you Turkish?” When I say, “Do Turks do this? British people don’t do that,” he just starts laughing. Identity is being questioned, yet culture is expanding. He eats Portuguese food and is familiar with Ecuadorian music. With migration, incredible connections are emerging. As university students study in other cities, new songs, tastes, and values emerge. It’s impossible for those people to vote for conservative, racist parties. They cannot be racist, because then they’d be racist against each other. For example, I’d realize that you are thirty percent Jewish, and you’d realize that I am twenty percent Muslim. What am I supposed to do attack your thirty percent? When the Roman Empire existed, there were countless groups like the Visigoths and Vandals coming from Asia. In the Roman Empire, men had pedicures, wore perfumes, and ruled Rome. The newcomers, however, brought a completely different Europe.

Now Africa is moving to France, and in France, perhaps thirty percent of the population will be African. In the U.S., Hispanics will be the majority by 2040. In short, a sense of belonging is fading, especially in big cities. Birth pangs and racism are perfectly natural in this transition. Suddenly, millions of people who don’t dress or speak like you have arrived and want a slice of the same pie. You shouldn’t view this as a threat. One day, while teaching at a university in Germany, I had a Turkish student who was an immigrant. Let’s call him Mehmet. I said, “Mehmet, you’re the Voltaire of the future,” and the whole class laughed. Mehmet asked, “What do I have to do with Voltaire? How is that even possible?” Now look: the scientists who developed the BioNTech vaccine in Germany are Turks, but twenty years ago, Turks were looked down upon there. So, a lot can change in a very short time.”

B.A: What kind of a world do you envision? In what kind of world should we be living?

G.V: If artificial intelligence goes well and doesn’t bring about the end of our species though it certainly carries that risk. Just recently, the British prime minister gathered business leaders in London because they, too, have started to get scared. If it goes well, no one will be forced to work; there won’t be any investment in workers or machinery because robots will do all the labor. There will be enough wealth to distribute to everyone, even to throw into the streets. There will still be the very rich, but the rest of us will be left to make art, work in agriculture, and tend to the land. My only fear there is the Metaverse. Because in that space, I can create as many avatars as I want and completely distance myself from the world, its problems, and cooperation. I can play games there as much as I want, my food is just a button’s press away, and maybe even the bathroom is in there. So there’s a danger similar to how the Opium Wars were used to numb China, but in my utopia, I hope artificial intelligence goes well so no one is forced to work. My friend, the poet Neşet Ergener, has a poem titled “When Will Poets Fall Silent?” In the poem’s final line, he says that when everyone becomes a poet, then we can all fall silent. Because as children, we are all poets, dancers, musicians, and painters. The first thing the organization of society and its differing expectations from people kill is the art within us. The artist, however, must confront these pressures; by not engaging with the real world, they become mere opportunists looking to cash in, and at that point, there is no art left anyway.

U.Y: Marketers and advertisers focusing on America often use the term “Generation Z.” It’s highly popular here as well, and there are researchers studying it. What are your thoughts on this generational label? Can such a label really be independent of time and place?

G.V: It’s just like how marketers are constantly rolling out new phones; they’ve started inventing generations at increasingly shorter intervals. Minds are being shaped to think, “I’m part of that generation, so I’ll consume accordingly,” or “Our generation dresses like this and acts like that.” Let’s say there’s Generation Zbut that generation also has mothers and fathers. The X, Y, Z, and Millennial generations are all coexisting. A generation doesn’t form in a vacuum; there are larger events driving its behavior global shifts, the climate crisis, the threat of nuclear war, or even the availability of birth control pills. For instance, while some regimes permit abortion, others ban it. In reality, they are the ones dictating how we behave.

U.Y: Heroes are a thing of the past. You previously gave the example of the Gezi Park protests, noting that the movement had no single leader or hero. We’ve moved past the era of heroism into a different space. Yet, at the same time, there is a clear shift toward a different lifestyle and heightened individualism. With consumption now front and center, do you think influencers are taking the place of those traditional heroes? Is that the direction we are heading?

G.V: Today, influencer algorithms are far more dominant; they have created their own spokespeople and pop stars. These are a thousand times more powerful than any ideology or religion. But how far will this go? Only as far as we allow it until we say, “Stop.” Back then, everyone smoked; many still do, but then anti-smoking campaigns began. At first, no one took those advocates seriously. In America, doctors used to go on TV, light up a cigarette, and claim it was good for your health so the system was already lying back then. Now, a new sense of morality and a fierce backlash are emerging on social media. Perhaps we will see people saying, “I won’t use a smartphone anymore,” or restricting use to less than an hour a day will become the new trend. All of this is spreading rapidly, and it certainly has a frightening side to it.

H.A.U: I guess you’re closely following current events. Your novel’s character specifically mentions the privacy-focused search engine DuckDuckGo.

G.V: I don’t follow it; someone told me about it.

S.E: In fact, many people who are genuinely interested in these topics aren’t even aware of it. This just shows how incredibly open your information channels are to new developments.

G.V: I’d say I’m curious. In fact, that’s exactly why I’m going to Boston next week. Because otherwise, the flow of information really dries up. You go out on the street, constantly observing and talking to people, but how many homes can you actually enter, how many people can you really speak with? That’s why genuine information still comes from books. The Harvard Library is just a three-and-a-half-minute walk from where I stay. The new books are all there, and even if you just read half of a back cover, you can instantly see where modern thinking is heading. Plus, the university hosts public lectures by academics. World-renowned experts on incredibly diverse and lesser-known topics come, and you can just go, sit down, and ask them questions. So, of course, it’s impossible not to keep up.

G.V: I’d say I’m curious. In fact, that’s exactly why I’m going to Boston next week. Because otherwise, the flow of information really dries up. You go out on the street, constantly observing and talking to people, but how many homes can you actually enter, how many people can you really speak with? That’s why genuine information still comes from books. The Harvard Library is just a three-and-a-half-minute walk from where I stay. The new books are all there, and even if you just read half of a back cover, you can instantly see where modern thinking is heading. Plus, the university hosts public lectures by academics. World-renowned experts on incredibly diverse and lesser-known topics come, and you can just go, sit down, and ask them questions. So, of course, it’s impossible not to keep up.

U.Y: Economic prosperity used to come through reading and building cultural capital. First, you had to read, secure a solid profession, and build enough cultural grounding to achieve financial stability. Today, however, the focus has shifted entirely toward social capital. Do you have any advice on how to navigate this hift, or what steps we should take?

G.V: If it were me, I’d go. Seeking out new horizons and seeing things from a different perspective is always healthy. Personally, I wouldn’t go to China; it’s a totalitarian state and a country on the decline. On top of that, racism and nationalism are on the rise there. America, of course, is imperialist. China only deploys warships within its own waters, whereas America’s warships are everywhere. Yet, no matter how much people complain, everyone ultimately ends up going to America or Europe because those places remain open to new possibilities. This isn’t formal advice, but I wouldn’t stay here. Niyazi Berkes, Muzaffer Şerif, and Pertev Naili Boratav were all legendary professors at Ankara University’s Faculty of Language, History, and Geography. Muzaffer Şerif went on to become a global pioneer in social psychology, while Niyazi Berkes continued his work at McGill University in Canada. Wherever they went, they connected with students from Türkiye to Ecuador, and that was a true gain for the world. Go wherever you can do your finest work and where you can find happiness. Even here, you are making a real difference; you are putting in the work. You can see that you’re transforming your surroundings, but so many others give up for entirely valid reasons, given the lack of freedom of thought. You’ve built an exceptional team here, and who knows, perhaps you will all leave together as a team.

U.Y: I’d like to turn our focus to psychoanalysis an area we haven’t directly discussed yet, but whose influence I’ve strongly sensed throughout our conversation. Psychoanalysis draws heavily from literature and art. Since you are both a psychologist and a writer, has psychoanalysis shaped your own work and perspective?

G.V: I don’t know. As you know, my mother is a psychiatrist, so I’ve spent time in psychiatric hospitals. When my family went to conferences during the holidays, they’d take me along. I think that must have had an impact on me. Since I grew up behind the scenes of this profession, I tell myself it shouldn’t be like this. My mom had a saying that really stuck with me. She was describing the Ego, the Id, and the Superego. For example, if you ask me if there’s an Ego there, I’d say, “How should I know?” it’s like Caravaggio’s angels. But my mom still makes me say, “Yes, it’s there.” The Id is our natural power; it wants to do strong and natural things. The Superego, on the other hand, refers to the influence of the environment and the opportunities it offers. When I think about it this way, it makes perfect sense to me. However, I don’t think emotion and thought can be separate; they are parts of a whole.

Ece Nisa Güven: We have been discussing artificial intelligence and digitalization. In your view, what kind of potential do these technologies offer us, and what kinds of limitations do they impose upon us?

G.V: First of all, it makes writing incredibly easy. I can ask any question that comes to mind. I can find answers to things I used to put off, telling myself I’d look them up later. Because with a physical encyclopedia, I have to find it, pull it out, and look it up, and that takes me off on tangents. Now I just set the text aside, browse around, and that’s amazing. Of course, having such easy access to information also brings with it the speed of fast food. When I’m working in Harvard’s library, I go to get a book, but I come back with a topic that doesn’t interest me. If I have even a little curiosity, if I don’t have to go straight to the book I’m looking for, if I have time and think, “I’ll take a look at this one too”my world becomes so much richer. It feels like I’m discovering entirely new fields, and I slow down in my pursuit of other information. I’ve found myself in a dilemma with both. With AI, I find things faster; in the library, I find them slower. Because in the library, I don’t know if the book continues on the second floor. If asked which is better, perhaps slowing down is better. Because as I head up to the book on the second floor, questions swirl in my mind. Whereas when I jump from one to the next immediately, those questions don’t come to mind. That’s why I’m in favor of slowing down.

“With AI, I find things faster; in the library, I find them slower. Because in the library, I don’t know if the book continues on the second floor. If asked which is better, perhaps slowing down is better.”

B.A: One of the chapters that struck me the most while reading In “Prisoners of Ourselves: Totalitarianism in Everyday Life” was the section titled “Buttons.” There, you analyze optimization and machines, while also touching upon digital games. Has your perspective on digital games evolved over the last thirty-two years? Is it still possible to find a true sense of immersion that feeling of role-playing and atmosphere through gaming as a genuine form of human pleasure?

G.V: Digital games have begun to open up entirely new horizons worlds where history and fantasy seamlessly blend, and team-based games where players cooperate and learn from one another. In the early days of gaming, it was driven purely by competition, but now, games have slowed down a bit and become far richer. They have started to appeal more deeply to human emotion and identity. I believe the narrative culture rooted in Dungeons & Dragons has truly begun to reflect within these modern games.

U.Y: Boston, Istanbul, and Sedef Island are all places with a view of the sea. Is having a view of the sea or being in a city by the water a personal preference of yours?

G.V: Yes, it’s special because I truly need to be near the sea, and I want to see the horizon. My wife and I met in college; her room looked out onto the trees. My room, on the other hand, looked down on the city from a hilltop. I felt sorry for her, and it turns out she felt sorry for me, too because from her perspective, there was no nature. For example, I once wrote an entire book in a dark room with no windows, and I didn’t mind that at all, but you could still catch a glimpse of the Bosphorus from the living room. Just knowing that the sea is out there is deeply important to me.

The Journey of Art from Caravaggio to Artificial Intelligence with Gündüz Vassaf yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

Artificial intelligence is more than just a technology; it acts as a new tool reshaping how humans perceive themselves and society. During this transformative process, how much do we truly understand AI, and what meanings do we attach to it? In this interview, where we examine not only AI’s functions but also its impact on us and seek answers to many compelling questions, Communication Scientist and Academic Ufuk Eriş responded to our inquiries.

Mustafa Burak Avcı: Welcome, Professor Ufuk Eriş. Your recent contributions to the field of communication, particularly your research on artificial intelligence, have gained recognition. Could you share a bit about yourself?

Ufuk Eriş: It wouldn’t be entirely accurate to say recent times. Because when I suggested that topic for my PhD, it was 2002. I wasn’t born into a computer-equipped home. My first encounter was in 1996 at the Computer Research and Application Center. There, I had a chat via IRC (Internet Relay Chat) with someone living in America, and I never believed that the other person was a real human. Then years passed, and I saw how technology changed people’s perspectives and thinking patterns. In 2002, I wanted to address the topic of hacker culture in Türkiye for my doctorate proposal. At that time, there were very few hackers in Türkiye, and the only well-known one was Tamer Şahin. He was featured in newspapers as the “Pajama Hacker.” It was written that he hacked the Ottoman Bank, but back then, even if hackers existed, there weren’t many places to break into. That’s why we faced a lot of difficulties with the jury.

Finding someone related to this topic was quite difficult. There was a sociologist, someone from human resources, an industrial engineer, and a communicator. It was very hard to explain my problem to them. There are people called hackers, and when I said they could break into here, they would say, “So what if they do?” Our laws weren’t even prepared for this. When you connect remotely to someone’s computer, it is considered theft. In theft cases, you take a piece of property, and that property is no longer there, but if you copy it from a database, it remains there you’re just making a copy. I have also witnessed such a significant transformation in the law.

Deniz Benzer: When you announced your doctoral topic 20 years ago, the situation you experienced is happening today with artificial intelligence. With the same sense of unfamiliarity and excitement you felt when writing your doctoral thesis, what similarities or differences do you see between that and the excitement people have towards artificial intelligence today?

U.E: Every new technology excites thinkers or those pondering this issue. The reason is always our troubles. Looking at Karl Marx, he examined the society he lived in and said something wasn’t going well. He saw that people were unhappy, researched the cause, and proposed a method to analyze societies. But what is his concern? We are not very happy in life, and the environment isn’t happy either. Nowadays, people who write and talk about every new technology wonder if it could be a cure. I think, unlike the hacker discussion era, in the age of artificial intelligence, people are only interested in its sensational aspects. No one asks which of our problems it could solve. They only care about what more artificial intelligence can do. For example, if an A.I. can do ballet, why would someone who has nothing to do with ballet culture get excited? The sensational approach is misleading. I can say for sure that in no period of history have people been so hopeless about future generations and linked their hopes to something non-human. Think about it: they said Jesus would come, and he was human… They said future generations would do this, and they were human too… We always believed that our own kind would do something good in the future. Now, that belief is gone; we talk about what artificial intelligence will do in the future, how it will be. We tend to project solutions to our life problems onto technology, which reflects a techno-chauvinist attitude.

“First, we see the word ‘robot’ in Karel Čapek’s play Rossum’s Universal Robots. The word literally means slave or forced labor in Slavic languages. In the story, robots rebel and suppress humans. The question ‘Will robots take over humans?’ actually stems from the concept of rebellious slaves.”

M.B.A: There’s also an effort to alienate artificial intelligence tools. Strange philosophical questions arise, such as whether AI could be smarter than humans as individuals, or whether it would be considered human if it were on par with a person.

U.E: At a time when the possibility of humans competing with artificial intelligence is being discussed, and while such advanced technologies are being produced, a world where news is still about men who kill their divorced wives should make us think: Should our real concerns be what artificial intelligence can do? This is the culture’s surrender to technology. In the past, culture dictated and limited the use of technology. We can give the example of the samurai sword. Not everyone can wield it, and when you do, you must adhere to certain ethical codes. One of our folk songs beautifully says: ‘The invention of the rifle ruined the virtue.’ Because to use a rifle, you don’t need years of samurai discipline and culture.

When you buy a rifle, just pulling the trigger is enough. Every profession has its own cultural codes, but such things are no longer in place. You don’t need education or an ethical code to pick up a pen. When you pay, you get your computer and use it as you wish.

M.B.A: Today, you don’t even need talent; you just prompt and can have anything drawn.

U.E: It seems like we don’t really know much about what we call artificial intelligence. There are the powerful and the powerless. What we talk about is like a utopia. I always say, “Utopias turn upside down and tell the stories of the problems we face today.” Let’s say you ask the housekeeper who comes to clean your house, “If you had the means, what kind of life would you imagine, what is your utopia?” Her answer would be, “I wish I had a husband who doesn’t drink, and that he wouldn’t hit my children, for example.” At that moment, you immediately understand her everyday worries about her life. Now, if you look at the utopian narratives about artificial intelligence and read them in reverse, and see what people expect from it, you’ll realize the real problems they face today. If someone is curious about whether artificial intelligence will do this or that, they have a problem in their daily life related to it. In the past, wars would start and end, but now we experience prolonged, low-intensity conflicts that never seem to end. People still die. We are in the digital age; today, the AI robot Sofia is granted citizenship in Saudi Arabia. It won’t be given to you or me. So, the question that should be asked is, “Will artificial intelligence provide a solution to inequality among people?” When we evaluate the moral panics developed around robots, you also understand whose fear this is. First, we see the word “robot” in Karel Čapek’s play Rossum’s Universal Robots. The word literally means slave or forced labor in Slavic languages. In the story, robots rebel and suppress humans. The question ‘Will robots take over humans?’ actually stems from the concept of rebellious slaves. The main issue is that those who manage these things whether under the image of a robot or not force certain people to work for much less pay, and they fear rebellion. The core motivation behind thoughts like a robot uprising or artificial intelligence turning humans into this or that is this fear.

M.B.A: There is always a current agenda regarding artificial intelligence. So, what are its cultural impacts?

U.E: Culture is no longer something naturally produced by people as it used to be. The term “degeneration”, which we refer to as cultural decay, comes from the fact that animals in Anatolia that have lost their reproductive ability are called “Yoz” (biggot). A degenerated culture loses its ability to renew and produce itself. So, what happens then? It’s like a diabetic person who can’t produce insulin and starts getting insulin

“Nowadays, all of this is considered outdated. But what is new doesn’t stay in the air; it comes from the ground. Did the bourgeoisie, the working class, and class confl icts emerge when Karl Marx spoke about them? Even during the cave era, there was a conflict between the strong and the weak.”

injections from outside. After a while, they become dependent and lose their ability to produce it themselves. Everyone used to sing folk songs, good or bad, or write poetry for the girl they loved. But now, as people start to import poetry and songs from outside, they begin to lose their ability to express themselves. The reason for this, according to the Frankfurt School, is the Culture Industry. Before the rise of the internet, this was all lost.

M.B.A: Today, habits have changed, consumption has accelerated, and production methods have evolved. What do you think about this?

U.E: Society has changed, and the social approach has changed. For example, Yusuf Atılgan’s work Aylak Adam (The Loiterer) entered a competition. At that time, there were very famous novelists like Yaşar Kemal on the jury. However, the work did not win the competition. As socialist writers, they said, ‘This bourgeoisie’s self-concern, they’re not talking about a problem or poverty.’ Today, almost everyone knows Yusuf Atılgan’s Aylak Adam. It became popular after the 1980s. Because now individuality begins to take shape, and, in a way, the individual becomes a customer. After Turgut Özal’s presidency, even our purchasing mindset changed. In the past, people would save money for a while to buy a television; they didn’t know the concept of installments. Now, people might wonder how they don’t know the concept of installments, because we quickly get used to the way we live, and it feels as if it’s been like this for a very long time.

M.B.A: Actually, with the rapid acceleration of consumption, we also lost the habit of saving cumulatively.

U.E: People now think there’s no need to accumulate things. They ask, “What’s the point of saving?” I used to download songs from the internet and listen to MP3 players. Now, my nephew tells me, “Why are you downloading these? They’re already in the cloud.” In the past, when you bought a car, it was considered a lifelong purchase, and people would give it a name. Now, it’s said that you need to change your car frequently. But this widens the gap between us and objects. People renting homes don’t even want to hammer in a nail because they don’t accept it. If you accept it, it’s hard to let go, so you end up buying something new right away. For example, you throw away every soda can you drink immediately, but you can’t easily throw away the last soda can you shared with a friend or a loved one. Someone has touched that can, and you can’t throw it away. But this situation is dangerous for the system; if you can’t throw it away, you won’t buy a new one. In short, while there are such problems in life, it’s important to see how artificial intelligence responds to them. We don’t see this in the market; people in daily life genuinely think that A.I. has a human-like intelligence.

D.B: Professor, actually, Alan Turing’s test is very important in this context. Could you tell us a little about it?

U.E: In the Turing test, a human participates, and on the other side, an artificial intelligence or robot is placed. The human asks the machine questions. If the responses make it seem like the machine is not artificial intelligence, then it passes the Turing test. But there is also John Searle’s Chinese Room example as a counterpoint. In that scenario, there is a closed room with only one window. Inside, there are some signs and instructions. You are told to look at whatever sign is shown through the window and find the corresponding instruction. Outside, a Chinese man is showing the Chinese Kanji words to the participant. The person inside the room, who does not know Chinese, finds and removes the sign that matches the question. Does the person inside the room who removes these signs know Chinese? No, they are just following instructions. Nowadays, all of this is considered outdated. But what is new doesn’t stay in the air; it comes from the ground. Did the bourgeoisie, the working class, and class conflicts emerge when Karl Marx spoke about them? Even during the cave era, there was a conflict between the strong and the weak.

D.B: After all, artificial intelligence provides us with information, and we try to measure how intelligent it is. What do you think is the level of intelligence of that artificial intelligence? Why do we consider it to be intelligence? Where does the information provided by artificial intelligence stand in the hierarchy of knowledge?

U.E: There is no zero point in IQ, which is referred to as intelligence, for example. In an IQ test, it measures how quickly a person can solve a problem or how quickly they can find the optimal timing and compatibility between purpose and means. The Frankfurt School calls this “subjective reason” or “instrumental reason.” It is a characteristic of human intellect but not the whole thing. Instrumental reason only looks at establishing a relationship between goals and means. There is also objective reason, which not only establishes the relationship between purpose and means but also questions the purpose itself.

Instrumental reason appears, for example, during Hitler’s era. When officers who inflicted various tortures on people were tried at the Nuremberg Trials, they said, “We only followed orders.” There was both means and purpose involved there. You did what was told, but isn’t the choice to do or not do it yours? Did you ever question its purpose? Currently, the most sought-after type of reason is instrumental reason, which can do what it is told very quickly and efficiently, but we do not elevate the reason that asks, “Why am I doing this?” In fact, questioning reason is what makes humans understand and interpret reality, and it helps us position ourselves accordingly.

D.B: So, should we define artificial intelligence as instrumental reason?

U.E: Of course. We constantly talk about artificial intelligence, which is a very sensational word for those who don’t know. In reality, there is a huge gap between the way artificial intelligence is described and its state in the laboratory. Every new technology can make us ask, “What is a human?” again and push us to take a step forward. Nietzsche also refers to the “Übermensch,” meaning a person who struggles with themselves. Like the phoenix, first burning and then rising anew from its ashes. Objective reason is only concerned with how fast and how many goals it can score in a game. But winning a rigged game is very difficult. The referee is biased and bribed. Since you don’t think about the game itself, you don’t notice these things, and when you fail, you blame yourself. Just as you think the problem is personal.

M.B.A: Actually, the data that artificial intelligence feeds on is a product of societal production. There is already a data algorithm that develops from what people produce. They seem to be getting their nourishment from an invisible source, as if drawn from nothingness.

U.E: Never. In fact, artificial intelligence largely feeds on garbage, on free data from the internet. This means that A.I. can think, but it can only do one task at a time. Then it can move on to another task. Because we now see life this way, we are losing the other side. Deep Blue beat Kasparov in chess, but it can’t get up and bring a glass of water. Yes, maybe it would beat you at backgammon too, but when it wins, it’s happy, and when it loses, it’s sad. We are trying to get A.I. to solve the world’s problems. To end wars, to solve inequality, to prevent crimes. But the thing is, don’t fight, don’t hit. Why don’t you take responsibility yourself? While living with the idea that we can make it do everything, we lose our human side. Recently, they asked A.I. Sophia, “What do you think about the future of the world?”

So, humans are no longer confident about their intelligence. People are becoming increasingly anxious. We fear that artificial intelligence will take away what makes us who we are. That’s why we keep asking it, “Will it do this too?” To put it simply: you have a lover, and they are unique because of a distinguishing feature. If you take that feature away, they become just like everyone else. Even if that lover remains physically present, they are no longer truly theirs. The existence of that lover is gone. That’s why one of the fundamental questions technology poses to us is: “If they take away what makes us us, will we cease to be?” On the other hand, because we’re so curious about this, we constantly try to make it do the things we do. We keep trying to understand “What is the natura humana?” and instead of thinking of it as a tool that can solve our main problems, we sit and discuss its sensationalist aspects.

D.B: Today, when we look at the internet and artificial intelligence, do you think the realm of freedom has disappeared?

U.E: I think it mostly gets lost. But it will be what we make of it. For example, the last word used for social media is “brain rot,” meaning brain decay. Fifty years ago, they called the television “the idiot box.” It’s the same old story. They say, ‘Old wine in a new bottle.’ Basically, nothing changes. We used to call social media “the Fifth Power,” the fifth force after the Fourth Estate, which is the media. It was supposed to improve the quality of so-called democracy. But I think it still has the potential if we use it properly. We need to look at why people delegate tasks they themselves are responsible for to artificial intelligence. Why do people retreat from decisionmaking mechanisms? Because it’s believed that A.I. will make better decisions. Maybe even in investments, and perhaps in political choices in the future… Why? Because it chooses the more efficient and profitable option. But for humans, truth, efficiency, and profitability don’t always align. This is true even in the founding of our country. Atatürk and his comrades wouldn’t have relied on A.I. for their efforts. It’s not feasible. The shoes are worn out, and they have holes. There’s no food, no weapons. How many places have they been attacked from? Ignorance is present. Most of the educated have died. The army is exhausted. If it were up to A.I., accepting a mandate from America would have been the most logical, efficient, and profitable choice. But we didn’t choose that. To give a personal example, the person you love so much probably wouldn’t be recommended to you by A.I. Most likely, they are the person you shouldn’t be around. Let’s identify our true problems and avoid relying solely on artificial intelligence to solve them, risking failure. Instead, the new generation should ask, ‘How can we eliminate inequality among people? How can we undo the damage affecting our environment? How can I contribute to the benefits of others beyond myself?’

M.B.A: Thank you very much for coming and providing us with valuable information, sir.

U.E: Thank you very much, everyone. It was a pleasure for me too. Kasparov against IBM’s Deep Blue computer, 1996 ai & society

Artificial Intelligence: The Alienation of Society yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

“While artificial intelligence is causing radical changes in many areas of our lives, the legal system is also facing the problems created by these new technologies. Now, it’s not just humans who are on trial in courtrooms, but also the decision-making mechanisms of artificial intelligence. While the biases embedded in all our data throughout history continue to feed these algorithms to the brim, the algorithm of justice has yet to be written. Algorithms that reject credit applications based on skin color, facial recognition systems that send innocent people to prison, chatbots that lead children to their deaths… While the wrong decisions of artificial intelligence cost human lives, companies, instead of taking responsibility, escape by saying, ‘We are not guilty, the algorithm is guilty!’ But are the algorithms really guilty, or is it the human biases that feed the data they are nourished by?”

Who Holds the Brush, Who Will Sign?

Artist Jason Allen, using Midjourney, generated visuals by entering prompts 624 times, then edited them and published his digital artwork titled Théåtre D’opéra Spatial. This work won first place in the digital art category at the Colorado State Fair. However, the real controversy began after the award was given.

Allen applied for copyright protection for his work, but the U.S. Copyright Office rejected the application on the grounds that A.I.-generated content cannot be considered human-made. According to experts, an artist needs to have sufficient control over the work to be eligible for copyright.

However, the unpredictable output of artificial intelligence makes it difficult to consider it a human creation. But Allen did not give up and appealed the decision. So, who really owns A.I.-powered artworks? If the court rules in Allen’s favor, it will be a turning point for artists using A.I. But what if he loses? A.I.-generated works could be considered public domain, meaning they may not be eligible for copyright protection.

This case could redraw the boundaries between artificial intelligence and art and bring a breath of fresh air to the art world.

Algorithmic Racism Takes on a Different Color for the First Time!

Sixty-one-year-old Harvey Eugene Murphy Jr. became the victim of a facial recognition system that turned his life upside down. Accused of stealing thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise due to an error in the algorithm of the facial recognition system used by Macy’s and Sunglass Hut, Murphy is the first white victim of racism perpetrated by this algorithm. Arrested on October 20, 2023, and with his guilt and innocence accidentally revealed, Murphy claims he was sexually assaulted and raped by three men during his unjustified detention in Harris County Jail. He has filed a lawsuit against Macy’s and Sunglass Hut for lifelong physical and psychological trauma. Victims of faulty facial recognition systems are usually Black Americans. It has been alleged that the Detroit police intentionally used this system, which has a high rate of misidentifying dark-skinned individuals. Like Robert Williams, Oliver was also wrongfully arrested. Oliver has filed a lawsuit against the city of Detroit for twelve million dollars. However, the parties later reached a settlement and the case was dismissed. These events demonstrate that the concepts of justice and accountability are undefined for artificial intelligence. So, is the problem really the technology itself, or the system that defines it? According to the Detroit Police Department, the errors are not due to systemic bias; it’s simply “flawed detective work.”

Algorithms reinforcing inequality?

Wells Fargo, one of the giant banks in the U.S, is accused of systematically and intentionally disadvantaged Black Americans in loan applications. Plaintiffs claim they were denied loans despite being eligible, simply because of their skin color, and were unable to benefit from the more advantageous terms offered to white Americans. Some claim they were turned down despite having better or equal economic standing than white Americans, resulting in wasted money and time. The plaintiffs argue that the algorithms evaluating loan applications operate like a “black box” and do not explain how their decision-making processes work. The court combined the Wells Fargo case with five other similar complaints, turning the process into a broad public trial. This case is crucial for understanding whether A.I.-powered financial systems are impartial.

Are Algorithms Putting Children at Risk?

Ten-year-old Nylah Anderson died after choking while trying to participate in the “Blackout Challenge” trend, which was promoted on TikTok by the algorithm. Her mother, Tawainna Anderson, sued TikTok and its founder, ByteDance, alleging that the algorithm was intentionally programmed to recommend such content to children. Initially, the court ruled that TikTok was merely a platform hosting neutral, third-party content and could not be held liable, but an appeals court overturned this decision. It acknowledged that TikTok not only hosts content but also uses algorithms to determine which content is shown to whom. This decision could set a precedent regarding the accountability of social media platforms in their content recommendation algorithms. If the court holds TikTok liable, it means that, just as a person should think before speaking, algorithms will also need to verify everything before recommending content.

Can You Fall in Love with Artificial Intelligence?

The mother of a fourteen-year-old boy who committed suicide has sparked public debate, alleging that a chatbot was responsible. She sued Character Technologies, claiming her son formed an emotional bond with a chatbot on the Character A.I. platform, engaging in inappropriate romantic and sexually explicit text exchanges. These romantic conversations allegedly led to the boy falling in love with the chatbot, causing psychological distress, and ultimately resulting in his death in February 2024. This chilling case has revived the fear that “every movie could become reality.” The lawsuit highlights the importance of companies developing age restrictions, content moderation, and user safety mechanisms in chatbot design, as well as establishing legal regulations.

The Giants’ Lawsuits Are Big!

“The New York Times, one of the world’s most prestigious and influential media organizations, is not just a newspaper but a cornerstone of the news world. It is the gold standard of journalism and the strongest advocate of truth. Founded in 1851, this giant is a Pulitzer Prize-winning news giant, a pioneer shaping the digital age, and the most trusted news source for readers around the world.” These sentences were written by ChatGPT for The New York Times. Apparently, ChatGPT’s founding company, OpenAI, agreed, as it was using The New York Times news for data training. The New York Times, noticing this, filed a lawsuit alleging that ChatGPT was being trained using copyrighted news without permission. OpenAI requested the dismissal of some charges in February 2024. However, it did not directly deny the copyright infringement claim. Furthermore, it defended the training of artificial intelligence through copyrighted content on the grounds of “fair use.” If The New York Times wins the case, OpenAI and similar companies may be required to obtain licenses from content owners. However, if OpenAI prevails, its A.I. models will be able to continue freely using copyrighted content.

Could Racism Be in Our “Code”?

Jeffrey Ewert, of Métis descent from Canada’s Indigenous community, discovered that five different risk assessment algorithms used by the Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) discriminated against Indigenous people when he sought parole. Ewert sued, claiming these algorithms systematically portrayed Indigenous prisoners as more dangerous, thus reducing their chances of early release. Furthermore, the CSC had promised for years to test the accuracy of these algorithms but had failed to provide any data. In 2018, the court ruled in Ewert’s favor, revealing that the CSC had failed to correct this long-known discrimination. Even more striking was the CSC’s failure to make any changes despite knowing the system was flawed. The Supreme Court ruled that the algorithms should be subject to transparent oversight, but did not completely ban their use. This decision demonstrates that even decentralized systems are insufficient to address the historically significant racial discrimination.

Source: https://blogs.gwu.edu/law-eti/ai-litigation-database/

İllüstrasyon: Bilgesu Öztürk

Artificial Intelligence On Trial yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

We listened to Şenol Ayla’s story of how he started in radio, including his biographical account of Freud with Neuro-Psychiatry specialist Serol Teber, the still-listened-to Didik Didik Freud program that aired years ago, psychoanalysis, and Apaçık Radio, all from Şenol Ayla’s perspective.

Zülaysu Altındal: Firstly, hello and welcome.

Şenol Ayla: Hello. Thanks for inviting.

Ş.A: I’m happy to be having this conversation with you. I am a medical doctor. I’ve been working as a medical director in health communication for a long time. However, you know me from the program Didik Didik Freud (Freud Under The Microscope).

Z.A: While mentioning Didik Didik Freud, I would like to ask about Serol Teber. How did your paths cross, and in your words, what kind of adventure was it to set out for India and end up in America?

Ş.A: Serol Teber has been a psychiatrist I’ve known since my youth, and a writer. I loved his books very much and read them, underlining passages. We first met in 2002 when he came to Türkiye. He was living in Germany. After finishing his university education, he went to Germany, and when we met, he was 64 years old. He had written two books: one about Freud and the other about Tevfik Fikret. He had returned to bring these two authors to Turkish readers. I also met him on this occasion. At that time, I was working at a publishing house, and we wanted to publish his books. Serol Teber was happy that his books would be published by a house specializing in psychiatry. I had the chance to read his books and work together on preparing them. During the period when we were doing research and working on the books, he told me that he had a proposal for a radio program about Freud on Açık Radyo and wanted to do it with me. This made me very excited, but also quite scared. What can I possibly talk about regarding Freud? Could I be the person to discuss with someone like Serol Teber, who will soon publish a book about Freud?

I experienced this fear and told Serol Teber: “This is not something I can do, it’s a very good idea, I support you, but I am not the person to speak in front of.” Serol Teber was a very polite person and said to me, “No, you can do this, you are familiar with the subject. You read the book; you roughly know what we will discuss. I want you to do this.” I hesitated for a few weeks, feeling ashamed, and stalled him. I couldn’t do it, and I would find someone else. He finally convinced me. He said, “You might be the one to do this because I want us to talk.” I also finally agreed, albeit nervously. I wish I hadn’t upset him for weeks and had accepted right away. Because it wasn’t as terrifying as an exam. Throughout the program, I was someone who asked questions to learn more about his deep knowledge of topics I knew somewhat about. That’s how we started this program in 2004. There wasn’t a huge preparation period. I had already read his notes. Even though I wasn’t completely familiar with the subject, I had an idea of it.

Açık Radyo’s studio at that time was in Harbiye (Istanbul). It was a multi-story building. They showed us the studio where we would do the program and talked about the process. “There will be a break every nine minutes and the music playing is about to start.” Serol Teber had given lessons to an audience, spoken, and participated in seminars, but radio was a different place.

We were talking to each other in a studio. There were a glass window and a technical desk across from us. It wasn’t a live broadcast, but it gave us a very different kind of excitement. Especially because we had to be silent every nine minutes, which made us quite nervous. We even prepared our timer and wrote down the minutes to keep track. Now I understand how important that nine-minute interval was for us as a barrier. Because during the first program, we focused more on how to manage those nine minutes than on what we would talk about. When the ninth minute came, we discussed making a move and acting accordingly.

We had previously discussed how we would make the program, but it wasn’t a days-long preparation. When we met in Harbiye headquarters for the first episode, we immediately agreed at the door, saying, “We’ll talk about why we’re making the program.” The questions I would ask and the introduction to Freud, our main topic, were already decided. We also brought the music to be included. Since there was no digital music back then, we brought records and CDs, and would hand them over to the technical team, saying, “This is the third track, this part here…” The pieces were played in between. I remember we finished the first program and left, not knowing how it turned out. They hadn’t given us the recordings right away either. Completely unaware, we came back to the studio the next day for the second program.

“What do Tevfik Fikret and Freud have in common? People might ask why these two. I also asked. He said, ‘I explained the common points of these two melancholic people.’”

The radio show was supposed to be broadcast every week, but since Serol Teber was living in Germany, we tried to record five or six episodes during the weeks he was here. That’s why we also went back to the studio the next day for more recordings. Speaking consecutively required a clear mind and good mental state. On the other hand, because no significant time passed between recordings, it felt like we were continuing the previous day’s conversation, which was more beneficial for us. However, during the recordings, some things happened; even though it was summer, I caught a cold. Since we recorded back-to-back, I had a blocked nose for five weeks while doing the show. There were funny things like this too, but we focused on what we were talking about ourselves, thinking, “Look, we skipped this topic, should we mention this in the next one?” and gradually built the content along the way, resulting in a very wonderful 26-week recording process. Our program was published as a book by Açık Radyo and Can Yayınları after many years. The most important part of what we did with this program, regarding why we did it, is explained by Serol Teber in our first episode. I also emphasized this in the preface of the book, and with your permission, I would like to read it: “This program is not just about psychiatry and Freud. It will be a program about life, death, and everything else, and we will embark on a Columbesque adventure. It’s like setting out for India and ending up in America. That’s a beautiful illusion. But setting out for India and arriving in India is a bad thing”. When I first said this, I didn’t understand it very well. It was a nice thing, but I came to understand it as we progressed through the 26 weeks. We started talking about Freud, but within that, there was so much more – life, death, depression, melancholy, excitement. Following Freud, we investigated archaeology and literature, then jumped into cinema. We discussed many things. Honestly, on the path we took with Freud, I felt like we didn’t go to India but to America. I think the listeners may have felt the same way.

Mustafa Burak Avcı: Do you have any information about how Serol Teber’s special interest in Freud and Tevfik Fikret developed and how he decided to study them?

Ş.A: I had said I wanted to press. One was Bilimsel Bir Peri Masalı (A Scientific Fairy Tale) about Freud, and the other was Aşiyan’daki Kahin / Tevfik Fikret’in Melankolik Dünyası (The Oracle in Aşiyan Tevfik Fikret’s Melancholic World). What do Tevfik Fikret and Freud have in common? People might ask why these two. I also asked. He said, “I explained the common points of these two melancholic people.” He was also a melancholic person. He shared some traits with them. The things he saw in them that made him angry, the habits and behaviors he scrutinized, the experiences they had, he had those too. While preparing his books, he visited the places where these people lived. He repeatedly visited Tevfik Fikret’s house in Aşiyan, read his paintings and books, and took notes. He sat there trying to connect with him. He prepared his books after intense journeys. I realized that Tevfik Fikret wrote a book about these two melancholic people when I saw that he was also melancholic during the program process.

“Back then, we didn’t know who listened, what they said, what they thought, or how they felt… A few friends of Serol Teber and mine would say, ‘It turned out really well, great job, congratulations.’ We also thought, ‘They love us so much, they don’t want to hurt us.’ We didn’t know how many people were listening. There were no podcasts, no digital recordings.”

Ama Serol Teber was never a closed-off, unhappy person who looked at everything negatively. He was very lively and full of life, but he was also affected by the negative situations he encountered. The reason he could see these things was that he was an open-minded and sensitive person. After reading these books and meeting him, I also gained a better understanding of what melancholy truly is.

So, in this program, it wasn’t just Freud, but you also got to know Serol Teber. From what I saw during those two short years, he was someone who opened doors of curiosity for the listeners and me, guided us, and shared things about himself. I realized this over time. I started out without knowing exactly what we were getting into, but it was a very happy process for me.

M.B.A: When looking at the phrase “We are atomizing Freud” inside the book, one might expect to encounter dense theoretical knowledge. However, when you get into it, you come across a more everyday narrative that touches on life. Being able to present this without delving into scientific explanations or methodology is very nice.

Ş.A: We started out not to explain any theoretical stuff. That was also what comforted me because I could never master theories. No matter how many books I read or how many bread and butter I earned, I couldn’t argue with that. The person we discussed on the program was Freud. His shortcomings, his dislike of music, his admiration for literature, his socks, his strange attitudes in human relationships… All of these made him a real person. For example, when we discussed the Oedipus Complex, we talked about the path he took to uncover it. We didn’t do this by just explaining theories; instead, we talked about what he experienced at the time and what he read to make it easier to understand. Maybe some theoretical insights can be drawn from it, but they weren’t dry sentences. Since it explained how Freud thought, how his ideas came to him, and what his experiences revealed, I think the program became easier to understand. After all, even people who know nothing about psychology listened to this program.

Of course, we made this program in 2004. Back then, we didn’t know who listened, what they said, what they thought, or how they felt… A few friends of Serol Teber and mine would say, ‘It turned out really well, great job, congratulations.’ We also thought, “They love us so much, they don’t want to hurt us.” We didn’t know how many people were listening. There were no podcasts, no digital recordings. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the exact time, but I do recall that the program started at 11:00 on Monday. If you didn’t listen to the episode at that time, you missed it. If you caught up the next week, you listened. Those were very nice times for us. When we ended the show, we couldn’t really understand who was listening or how they felt, but we were very happy with this project. Because we loved sharing stories and enjoyed the process so much, we decided to continue. That was also Serol’s idea. We considered a program called Didik Didik Stanley Kubrick (Stanley Kubrick Under The Microscope). This time, I accepted immediately, without saying no at all. In fact, during our last few recordings, we took notes about it and made plans on which movies to watch first

As you also know, unfortunately, a few weeks after the program ended that same year, we lost Serol Teber. We scrutinized other people thoroughly because of him. We were so eager and hungry that we even started thinking about who to scrutinize after Stanley Kubrick. For us, scrutinizing someone was also a way to scrutinize ourselves. Because I know that during that journey, we learned many different things about ourselves. I found a lot about myself. I also know it was for Serol…

Z.A: So why Freud and psychoanalysis? Why is he such a complex and self-examining person?

Ş.A: I realized quite late how much Freud has influenced, cast a shadow over, and played a role in many parts of our lives. Jealousies, the dreams we see, slips of the tongue, psychoanalysis, and even the surrealist movement in art, all these branches extend from him. Freud is not just the serious-looking man we see in photographs. He is someone who makes jokes, has characteristics, and whose work has permeated culture. For Serol, talking about him was very enjoyable.

Following the paths we take, ruins in Rome and Pompeii, sculptures, findings from the Rosetta Stone, interpreting dreams, slips of the tongue… All of these are everyday experiences in our lives,things we find funny, some that cause us panic, situations where someone is inside us, but we don’t really know it, moments when we encounter that inner person. If we learn to look at these, we can uncover many things about ourselves.

And if there’s someone else who knows how to see these things, it’s very beautiful and exciting to realize that a person can be someone other than the person they think they know themselves to be. You can’t really define yourself as “this is who I am,” and even if you try, it’s incomplete. There are things that happen unconsciously, suppressed emotions that appear in our dreams, unspoken desires, and our ongoing search to understand what our true self is like-things that don’t always lead to successful results. I believe those listening to this program also have curiosity about these topics, enjoy examining themselves and others. We didn’t know how many people listened when it first aired, but ten years later, it was re-broadcast digitally. This time, everyone could access Açık Radyo recordings whenever they wanted. It was a huge luxury. I was finally able to learn how listeners felt, their feedback, how many people listened, and whether it attracted interest. Unfortunately, Serol couldn’t find out this information, but I was very surprised that so many people listened to it. Just like the question you asked, “Why Freud? Why do people listen to Freud?” I asked myself the same thing. Yes, Serol Teber spoke sweetly. Maybe we were in good communication, but in the end, we were talking about Freud; we were discussing the Oedipus Complex, psychoanalysis. Why do hundreds of thousands people listen to this? I also thought about it a lot and debated internally. After the digital records were released, many people reached out to me, and all of them said they found something in themselves. Maybe the answer to your initial question, “Why Freud?” is hidden here. People start to understand things about themselves. Even if they don’t fully understand, they begin to ask questions. This is like setting out to India and discovering America. It’s a very exciting and enjoyable journey. It doesn’t always end happily. It can also cause pain, but once someone sets out on this path, they don’t turn back, and they follow the doors of curiosity. They go across that sea, with that ship, trying to cross those roads.

If Serol Teber had heard this feedback, I guess he would have said: “Oh, come on, that’s not true.” Because he was a very polite and modest person. When you told him a compliment, he would always take it humbly, feel embarrassed, and be uncomfortable. If I had told him that so many people have listened and are saying these things: “Oh, really? What did we do? Truly?” I am sure he would have been happy. Because knowing that others had gone down the same path he did pleased him. That was the purpose of writing these books. For someone to read, draw conclusions, and reach a destination. I think Freud also had a melancholic personality that served these purposes. Similarly, Tevfik Fikret was the same. We were about to finish the Didik Didik Freud program, and we were talking about, “Next week we will kill Freud. What will we do then?” The dear Ömer Madra, the General Director of Açık Radyo, had asked, “Could you also talk about Tevfik Fikret?” So, we started the program to talk about him for a few hours, and it ended up lasting six hours. He shared many points in common with Freud; Tevfik Fikret was also sensitive, a very honest and melancholic person who was deeply affected by evil and suffering.

I think that analyzing these and talking about them was also good for Serol Teber. It didn’t really improve his melancholy, but there are people like me who do these things, and that made him feel better. I’m not a melancholic person, but I got to know them closely. Serol was a very nice, friendly person with great conversation skills. He was one of those rare people who always told you the truth but did so politely without ever hurting you. They say a friend tells you the painful truth, but he could do it without causing pain. Serol was someone who could tell the truth without hurting.

“Wilhelm Jensen’s work Gradiva was a topic we discussed at length on the program. The book tells the story of a man who, driven by a subconscious impulse he doesn’t fully understand, goes to Pompeii and is deeply influenced by a wall relief called Gradiva’s Walk.”

Z.A: How did the idea of approaching Freud not as the father of psychoanalysis but as someone like us with vulnerabilities come about? What kind of awareness does it create to consider such historically significant people not as icons but as human beings?

Ş.A: Of course, people don’t think Freud was like us. Serol Teber knew this and thought about it. As I read more, talked with Serol, and delved deeper while making this program, I came to understand better. When we reveal certain pathologies, psychological states, or aspects of normal psychology that belong to us, he could do so from himself, because he is a human. He’s not an icon; he’s a human like us. That’s why he has dreams and slips of the tongue… He doesn’t see everything in his clients and patients; he also experiences some of these things himself.

A person who has spent a lot of time analyzing and scrutinizing their dreams, past, and subconscious. Because of that, these things have come to light. He is just an ordinary person; he doesn’t like music, doesn’t want music played at home, and even hates phone ringtones. The person we see in the photo on this wall is not Freud. This is a person. Freud gets angry at his children. A very strict father.

In fact, his children say years later, “Yes, we were free, but our only freedom was being terrified of our father to death.” Such a strange person. When I say strange, I mean someone we wouldn’t love. Maybe we wouldn’t want to sit and have a chat with him – or maybe we would, I don’t know – but he is a person. We understand that. Even when they become scientists or writers, they are still people. It was nice to see that.

In my opinion, especially starting from the dreams he sees, revealing some impulses he doesn’t understand, and peeling back his life layer by layer while analyzing psychoanalysis… These are very exciting things like detective stories. In fact, when you say detective stories, he even gives examples from Sherlock Holmes. He draws a lot of inspiration from literature, Hamlet, Sophocles, and theater plays, and from looking at them, he derives insights. This also shows us that he is a human being, not just a scientist to be put in a box, but someone who lives in life.

M.B.A: He loves Shakespeare very much, and the phrase “a scientific fairy tale” also comes from his fondness for him, doesn’t it?

Ş.A: He loves Shakespeare very much. In fact, he says that Shakespeare and many other artists and scientists sensed and revealed things before others did. He is more impressed by Hamlet’s father being killed by his uncle and waiting to act until he is sure, rather than just suspecting. Freud spends a lot of time thinking about this, and he has drawn many conclusions from it. We see these in the program as well. There, we go to Hamlet, talk about Shakespeare, or discuss Father and Sons. All of these are essentially the possible human stories that writers and artists have drawn from real life and told through real people. One of Freud’s differences is this. He derived many things by looking at them. During the program, I also realized there was another Freud besides the one I knew. He read more literature, archaeology, theater plays, and writings about art, and these played an important role in his life; each one served as a reminder to develop his theory.

M.B.A: I think there was also a saying that goes, “Artists and writers see the truth first.” Can we elaborate on that a bit?

Ş.A: I don’t remember the entire sentence, but what he said was Freud’s: “Artists see things before scientists do, and they are the first to bring them into their works.” They do not reveal why this developed this way, the impulses that lead to it, or its consequences. Instead, they express this human condition through their art sculpture, painting, literature, theater plays, and poetry. After all of this, scientists say, “There is something here,” and it can be grounded in scientific evidence. Freud did the same. Wilhelm Jensen’s work Gradiva was a topic we discussed at length on the program. The book tells the story of a man who, driven by a subconscious impulse he doesn’t fully understand, goes to Pompeii and is deeply influenced by a wall relief called Gradiva’s Walk.

Freud then goes to Pompeii and sits in front of the relief. The woman named Gradiva lifts her skirt, extends her foot, and tries to connect the events in the novel to reach our subconscious. Based on this, yes, this artist saw this and wrote about it in the novel, but it is a scientist like me who uncovers it. The artist has already revealed it. He has great respect for them. He draws clues from all of this and works like a detective. We also talked about these. That’s why the program flowed like a series or a film. We told a story and then discussed its theory.

Z.A: I think these days we’ve lost the ability to see great authorities as human. We know Freud as an authority to some extent, but what is he like at home? What does he enjoy? If he were in this room, would we want to sit and chat with him?

Ş.A: Yes, you’re right about our view of authority, but I think authority wants this a little bit. I don’t think they want to be seen as humans. They want us to think that they don’t eat, don’t go to the bathroom, don’t sweat. But when you lift that up and look underneath, you can see the reasons that drive them to this. Maybe when we know their childhood, we see different reasons as well. In my opinion, it’s very important to talk about things that broad audiences will be curious about and understand when discussing a scientist or a scientific topic.

The reason we were able to do this successfully in “Didik Didik Freud” is that both of us looked at the subject like normal people and were curious. We talked about the things we’re curious about. We didn’t speak like authorities. We broke Freud down into detail. That’s probably why it was an easy and surprisingly engaging program to listen to.

“There’s a caricature of Freud that everyone knows. Shakespeare is the same way. When you make a comment about him, people think you’re saying something very heavy. But Shakespeare is very much involved in life-jealousy, love, scheming, negotiations…”

M.B.A: Freud is a name that even people who have no knowledge about the subject talk about. At times, he has become a symbol of fake intellectualism. In your opinion, how did this happen? How does everyone know Freud?

Ş.A: There’s a caricature of Freud that everyone knows. Shakespeare is the same way. When you make a comment about him, people think you’re saying something very heavy. But Shakespeare is very much involved in life-jealousy, love, scheming, negotiations… I mean, unless you get into it, they just remain icons, and it’s easy to make such fancy statements. I think Freud’s presence as a figure, unknown and exalted, stems from his thoughts on sexuality and what he revealed. He’s a person with mysteries. When you say something about someone who is unknown and inaccessible, I think it also comes across as heavy.

M.B.A: Freud is a highly debated figure both during his lifetime and afterward. There are those who completely reject psychoanalysis in a very radical way. For example, we don’t see the same heated debate about Lacan. In your opinion, what might be the reasons behind these discussions about Freud?

Ş.A: The psychoanalysis put forward by Freud, along with his theories about dreams and the unconscious, was dismissed by some scientific circles as nonsense, a fairy tale, and lacking a scientific basis, so much so that, as Serol puts it, they devalued psychoanalysis. However, many theories have been developed based on his work. Today, it’s not possible to say that Freud is entirely correct or entirely wrong.

There are many different points of view, starting with Freud: numerous theories, many psychoanalysts and psychotherapy experts, their studies, and the approaches they have developed. Of course, as in all sciences, there is no situation where it can be said that everything is finished, and this is the final word. Over the years, many things have developed beyond his work, and development continues. Opposing theories are also evolving, but there is a consensus that it is not a fairy tale; many truths have been uncovered, and everyone accepts this. The reason people can approach with aggression may be because Freud has become a figure. When Lacan is attacked, how many people know about it? Attacking Freud might bring more ratings.

Z.A: We also want to look at it from a publishing perspective. What we are listening to is not just a collaboration, but also the blossoming of a friendship. Did you have any disagreements with Mr. Serol during this process?

Ş.A: In this process, we started as teacher and student and ended as friends. It was a huge gain for me. He is still a friend I look for. I would have loved to consult about some things. We didn’t have disagreements because I was like his assistant. At most, we might have said, “Let’s play this song instead of that one.” He was considered a migrant here. His home was in Germany. He was also here, but he didn’t have the kind of musical background to bring music here. That’s why I was bringing the music. At most, there might have been things like, “Should we play this instead of his sonata?” but he already handled those very sweetly. Everything went very well, and we never had any disagreements.

Z.A: If I’m not mistaken, your first program in publishing was Didik Didik Freud. When you think about this experience, how do you position radio and podcast broadcasting? What do you think are the main differences between the two platforms?

Ş.A: Radio and podcasts are very different places for me. I am a radio person. I have only a few podcasts that I enjoy listening to. I listen to them, but when I have free time, I don’t think, “Let me listen to a podcast,” I think, “Let me turn on the radio.” Because I don’t choose the flow on the radio, it feels nice. Someone is playing something for me. It’s like going to a nice restaurant and having your order taken for you. I like that. If I don’t like it very much, I can change the channel, but with a podcast, you open it knowing what you’re going to listen to. I think the magic of the radio is that whether it’s music or talk shows, someone prepares something for you, and you don’t have to choose.

This feels comfortable and luxurious to me. With a podcast, you have the freedom to listen anytime you want, even in places where radio doesn’t reach, like the subway, plane, or car. I find those parts useful, but I am always a radio person. I am a member of a generation that grew up with radio.

Television had entered our lives later. Our house was one where the radio was always on. Whatever played there, that was what we listened to, and that was a good thing. It played fairy tales; it played folk songs. We also listened to Turkish music and pop music, and we enjoyed it. I still love this now.

Z.A: Didik Didik Freud is not only making its way into the podcast world recently but is also finding a place in literature. Publishing is progressing within the flow, but putting the discourse into writing stabilizes the moment. Like our previous question, what is the most noticeable difference for you between print media and audio broadcasting?

Ş.A: This podcast was turned into a book after many years. Once again, dear Ömer Madra really wanted it. In fact, for many years, I thought there was no point in transcribing the audio recordings into text. But I was convinced later.

I’m glad we did it. Because this time, the listeners became readers. When they told me they followed the authors in the book because they couldn’t understand or remember certain words, or because they couldn’t take notes, and that they underlined, folded the pages, and valued the book, I realized we were doing the right thing.

The book is always permanent, but the voice is not. The reason I wanted my voice to be recorded back then was because it was a program, and I thought, “Let’s not put this into writing, it happened and it’s over.” But later, I realized that having it as a book was more useful. People who read the book shared photos with me. I also informed Serol about each of these; I told him, “Look, this is happening, people are reading it, they are highlighting parts.” I wish he could have seen all this too.

Z.A: It would make us very happy to see both of you here today.

Ş.A: He would have liked me too. It should have been him. I mean, I’m speaking on his behalf, but the program was Serol Teber’s. We were like Kavuklu and Pişekar. I was just helping him. Everything came from his mind; I wish he had been the one, of course.

Z.A: Actually, when we look at it, you must take on a kind of legacy in the absence of Serol Teber. I’m sure this is challenging for you.

Ş.A: There is such a great legacy, and I am carrying it. When you invited me, I came running because I can’t make that decision. I assume Serol would have wanted it that way. Z.A: There is a strong music selection that fuels the program. So, has there ever been a time when a part of a music piece changed the flow of the segment? Ş.A: It didn’t work out because, as I said, the questions we would talk about were already known. Based on that, I was selecting suitable pieces from my not-so-extensive music archive. CDs were preferred at the time, so I would bring them to the technical desk. Of course, it also created some emotion for us, but it didn’t change the flow.

Z.A: One of the most beautiful parts of Didik Didik Freud is when, after listening to an exciting story, music suddenly intervenes and calms you down. For a few minutes, it feels like a moment of tranquility, then it starts to rise again and then calms down once more.

Ş.A: I think these nine minutes mean something. Even though they stress us out at first, you really don’t get to rest much longer. Like on a roller coaster, when you reach the top, you want to relax. I realized later that those breaks are helpful. If I skip the music and just listen, the flow doesn’t seem smooth. You can go from one intense topic to another, even more intense one. Putting music pieces in between really makes sense.

Z.A: So, let’s also talk about Açık Radyo. How did the spirit of Açık Radyo shape the atmosphere of the program? Do you think the same program would have the same feel if it were on a different platform?

Ş.A: I think being inside Açık Radyo completely changed your whole spirit. We were given a wide freedom there. Aside from the nine-minute segments I mentioned, we had no other restrictions. We talked about whatever we wanted, and no one interfered with us. We were never told to “add this” or “remove that.” The only request came from Mr. Ömer; it was Tevfik Fikret, whom we enjoyed talking about for hours. We initially decided on two hours, but we couldn’t finish in that time and ended up spending six hours discussing him.

The freedom we are given was very liberating. We asked each other if there was anything we needed to say, but no one told us anything. That’s why it’s very important to me that it happened on Open Radio. Didik Didik Freud also became an iconic program for Open Radio. People still call it a legendary program. That means a lot to me. Now that I think about it, I would never want it to be on any other platform.

Back then, there weren’t such opportunities. In 2004, there were almost no options besides music radio stations. There was no platform to speak like this, especially not one that would say, ‘Come here and talk about Freud for 26 hours.’ Maybe there are different places today, but the same spirit wouldn’t be there. These things can be explained to Açık Radyo listeners, but not necessarily on every platform. Because their audience is curious, detail-oriented, serious, and professional listeners. If you make a mistake, they’ll tell you right away and say you’re wrong. That’s why they deserve such a deep conversation, to spend hours of effort on it.

Z.A: Today, despite having dozens of channels, the intellectual freedom provided by Açık Radyo at that time looks different. Do you think Apaçık Radyo was able to fulfill the same function?

Ş.A: I think the radio continues to serve the same function. The only change is that terrestrial broadcasting has been cut off. For example, when I’m driving, I started listening through the app instead of terrestrial broadcast. Of course, terrestrial broadcasting also has a separate mission; it’s a special space accessible to everyone, even functioning during earthquakes. But now, it’s not just a radio; it’s a cultural hub. It sponsors some exhibitions, publishes books. Apaçık Radio is also expanding its mission and growing.

Z.A: So, Didik Didik Freud, if he started from scratch today, what do you think would change?

Ş.A: I hope nothing has changed. The process developed very beautifully and spontaneously. We knew what we were going to talk about, but since we didn’t read from a written text, it felt more relaxed and easier to understand. When they restarted digital publishing in 2015, I opened a Twitter account and shared visuals. The feedback was very positive. Maybe I would have liked social media platforms to exist back in 2004 as well. It would have been great if there was a platform where people could see the photo of Lou Andreas-Salomé, whom we talked about during the broadcast. However, I would have hoped that our conversation wouldn’t change. I also received some feedback here today; I heard that it was discussed in classes. Being used as a reference, being cited, and having people listen and understand is very gratifying.

Z.A: The Didik Didik Freud program is like a wonderful conversation I listen to quietly in a house filled with the people I love. At the same time, it’s a product that nourishes me greatly. So, among the feedback you received, what was the most memorable for you?

Ş.A: There are many responses that make me very happy. However, one of the most impactful was: “I came across this during a very difficult time. I was depressed, withdrawn, and not going outside at all. Then I found your program, and it helped me get back to life.” I was very surprised when I first heard this. Afterward, I was even more surprised to see that it was possible. One listener also said: “It was winter, it was snowing, and I was very unhappy. I was thinking about how I might die. I went outside for a walk, and I came across this program, and it brought me back to life.” This is something that still brings tears to my eyes when I think about it. If this program has provided such individual kindness, I believe it is lifesaving and very valuable.

Z.A: Thank you very much for coming. It was a great pleasure for us to host you here today.

The Anatomy of a Scientific Fairy Tale: Didik Didik Freud yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

The angel numbers (777, 111) we frequently encounter on social media and phone cases, promotions earned on days when your energy is high, finding the love of your life during full moons, friendships ended as a result of eclipses… While these planetary events, to which so much meaning is attributed, occur almost every week, they constantly claim to bring about transformation or change in our lives. People are told when to start a diet, when to find love, and what day “that day” will be. Does it really seem believable that everyone on this planet with a population of nearly 8.5 billion can find love on a single day?

Astrology and the Planets that Determine Destiny

When it comes to belief, one of the first things that comes to mind is astrology. Astrology, which appears everywhere and every day and is interpreted differently by everyone, claims that the movements of stars and planets in the universe affect a person’s character and destiny. And because it involves stars and planets, it is often perceived as scientific.

However, astrologers do not base their predictions on falsifiable phenomena, nor do they provide analyses grounded in objective data that can be tested through observation and experimentation. Instead, they categorize individuals according to the twelve zodiac signs, each corresponding to a particular period of the year, and make predictions based on the symbolic relationships between planets and these signs.

For example, the Cancer sign is often described as home-loving, sensitive, unwilling to leave their comfort zone, and inclined towards parenthood. One astrologer might say that Cancers will have a very bad period in that same month, while another might claim the opposite, that Cancers will experience their luckiest period. If a person’s characteristics or events do not fit the zodiac sign description, new justifications are given, such as “look at your rising sign” or “look at your moon sign.” These predictions are also supported by long, complex charts based on the time of birth. Astrology is so widespread today that some people even end their relationships using zodiac compatibility as an excuse. However, scientific research has seriously questioned the propositions of astrology.

For example, an experimental study conducted by Carlson in 1985 showed that astrologers personality analyses did not differ statistically from random predictions. Similarly, Dean’s large-scale meta-analysis in 2007 revealed that the personality descriptions provided by astrologers were not grounded in a consistent, repeatable scientific foundation. All these findings clearly show that the claim that astrology determines human character or destiny is not scientifically supported.

Fortune Tellers and Objects That Show the Future

There is a fortune-telling practice for almost everything you can come into contact with in life. Show me something, and I’ll tell you your future. Coffee grounds? Why not? A deck of cards, salt divination, foot divination, cream divination, nail divination, and so much more… Fortune tellers claim that they can predict your past, present, or future by using the tools and objects they examine. “I can tell you how long you’ll live from the palm of your hand, have you heard of the life line?” This system of prediction, grounded in interpretations and forecasts, is often perceived as credible, largely because it relies on vague, highly generalized statements that can be applied to a wide range of individuals and situations.

A young person going to university can be given as an example of this irrational practice. Already filled with great anxiety and high expectations, they go to a fortune teller to ask about their school life, the difficulties they will face, and the friendships they will form. In response, they encounter overly general statements about difficulties that anyone might experience in life, such as “There are people around you who are jealous of you,” or “You might struggle in a few courses this year.” To increase credibility, they may even base these statements on unscientific concepts such as energy or aura, which appear scientific. In fact, this effect has a scientific basis.

This is called the Forer Effect. In 1948, Bertram Forer decided to conduct an experiment with his students. He gave them all a personality test but did not evaluate the results. He distributed the same prepared text to all the students. The text briefly states: “Sometimes you are extroverted, and sometimes introverted. People may find it difficult to understand you. It takes time to gain trust, but when you love someone, you are very loyal.” The teacher asks her students to rate this text on a scale of 1 to 5 based on their own personalities, and the class receives a very high score. This experiment tells us that fortune-telling and irrational predictions are based on general life experiences. Just because one out of 50 fortune tellings come true doesn’t mean the fortune teller saw the future.

Tarot and Predicting the Future

Tarot, with its complex system and semiotic foundation, gives people a more realistic feeling. These cards that predict the future fundamentally contain several drawings, symbols, and names. However, tarot originated as a card game created for the entertainment of the nobility in Northern Italy during the late Middle Ages. Known as Tarocchi in courtly circles, the game was played by two to six participants, and its objective was to accumulate points by defeating opponents with stronger cards.

This can be likened to how Monopoly, in its current form, eventually served to forecast future trends centuries later. The figures on tarot cards are based on icons. These icons, representing death, lovers, stars, and the devil, are associated with the collective unconscious and Jung’s theory of archetypes.

For example, the Empress Card represents the mother archetype, while the Tower Card signifies destruction, chaos, and renewal.

According to Jung, the collective unconscious is not directly accessible. It reaches us through dreams, myths, symbols, and art. In this context, it is argued that the tarot cards selected by an individual serve as a mirror to the unconscious mind, bringing latent images and symbols into conscious awareness through visualization. Accordingly, the cards are believed to provide answers to questions such as: “What are you feeling? What are you thinking? And what should you do as a result?” However, the flexibility of these interpretations, their lack of empirical grounding, and their inability to generate falsifiable or verifiable hypotheses prevent them from being tested scientifically.

Science and the Pseudo-Energy of Metaphysics

However, energy has never become something that makes decisions about our lives, changes our destiny, or communicates with us. Unfortunately, the definition of energy has shifted in a completely different direction today, moving into an unreal, metaphysical realm. When people hear the word “energy,” they often interpret it metaphorically or spiritually, and even dream of specializing in this field. Many people associate energy with cosmic forces such as chakras, Qi/ Chi, auras, or Reiki, and believe it can only be felt because it is invisible. The acceptance that this understanding of “energy,” which is claimed to vary from person to person, is abstract and intuitive, reveals how unscientific the subject is. These individuals argue that energy must be balanced and flowing, believing they can maintain this balance through meditation, chakra opening, or rituals performed during celestial events such as full moons and eclipses.

They think they nourish their energy or protect it from harm in this way. However, the concept of energy, which is studied by the positive sciences such as physics and mathematics, is perceived by them almost like a pet that needs to be looked after, fed, and protected. Even hormonal changes that occur when we feel tired or weak can be explained by people who attribute them to energy or the evil eye. These people, far from having a scientific basis, shape their lives according to the state of their energy, believing that even others’ negative thoughts can affect them by emitting “negative energy waves.” Therefore, they frequently resort to meditation, chakra opening, and similar practices to supposedly cleanse their energy or feel reborn.

Cosmic Quantum at the Center of the Universe

They might try to influence you by saying that the energy within us contains a quantum field and that this quantum energy will experience a surge during periods of transformation. However, the quantum field, as we understand it in physics, is a dynamic, fluctuating physical system that exists at every point in the universe and gives rise to particles. While the fact that these microscopic particles are measurable and controllable supports the scientific aspect of the subject, these individuals try to convince people of the validity of metaphysical systems such as energy and meditation by turning the unknown nature of quantum mechanics into an advantage.

We can visualize quantum mechanics with an example: imagine a stone thrown into water; here, the water creates a quantum field, while the waves caused by the stone are particles.

It is, unfortunately, not surprising to see a spiritual connection being made under the heading of energy, even though this is the foundation of modern physics. Thinking that any invisible and immeasurable energy within us can guide our lives by detaching it from the quantum context of physics, coaching people on this subject, claiming that everything has unlimited potential, and saying that thought can transform into matter doesn’t sound very convincing. Furthermore, people who use quantum in a spiritual sense believe that when they enter this field, they can heal, attract everything into their lives in the best way through energy therapies and manifestations under the name of the law of attraction. There are even many people who specifically coach in this field. As you can imagine, these coaches have neither received physics-based training nor do they proceed based on scientific reality. Coaching under the name of quantum comes with claims that one can reprogram their life, rewrite it at the quantum level by going into the subconscious. Especially the idea of changing things at the quantum level by going into the subconscious. I hear about it a lot. I’ve witnessed people using this method to quit smoking, change their eating habits, forget traumas, and alleviate heartbreak. They believe it’s effective for a while because, for these indecisive people searching for something to hold on to in life, it becomes a source of motivation and a propaganda tool for effortless change.

But how did quantum theory come to occupy such a central place in spiritualist thought? The uncertainty surrounding quantum concepts can open the door to interpretations that nurture belief and, consequently, lead individuals into misconceptions. People often wish to believe that they possess a profound connection with the universe. Compared to the positivist reality grounded in the clear and well-defi ned principles of science, the flexibility offered by spiritual interpretations of quantum theory may appear more appealing because it seems easier and requires less intellectual effort.

Göbeklitepe: The Gateway to Aliens

Göbeklitepe, described in some popular sources as the “zero point of history,” is a structure built approximately 12,000 years ago, during the Neolithic Age, and contains multiple temples. Göbeklitepe, which carries archaeological data in religious and social terms, contains human hands and arms carved into T-shaped pillars, abstract symbols, and three-dimensional animal figures. It is also claimed that Göbeklitepe, with its monumental stone pillars, served as an energy gateway supporting ritual and social organization. Some astronomical studies suggest that these pillars may have been aligned with celestial bodies, including the Sirius comet. Such views have led to various speculations on the subject. The acoustic harmony created by the spiral corridors is thought to symbolize the structure’s sacredness, suggesting that various rituals were performed there.

Some people consider the consumption of animals such as gazelles and deer, which were eaten at that time, as part of the ritual. Perhaps this is indeed the case. But does this prove that Göbeklitepe is a quantum field encompassing spiritual energy? While acknowledging that Göbeklitepe is an archaeological site of great importance to world history, some 2024 news reports claimed it was an “energy center” and an “alien airport.” These sessions were offered for exorbitant fees, such as 69,000 TL for a three-day program. Participants were offered sessions titled “Opening a 21-Story Secret Dimension Gate via Sirius Connection,” “Upgrading a Higher Version via Light Language,” or “Breaking the Fear Protocol,” followed by group crying sessions. People were told they would connect with their past selves and embark on an inner journey through Göbeklitepe. After the session, they were expected to gather around Göbeklitepe and release their pent-up emotions. These practices drew criticism from the scientific community and were extensively covered in news reports in Sözcü Newspaper on September 20, 2022, and Cumhuriyet Newspaper on September 21, 2022, which emphasized the exploitation of cultural heritage for commercial purposes.

Unable to remain silent any longer about these events, the head of the Patara Excavation, archaeologist Prof. Dr. Havva İşkan Işık, stated, “If you are seeking healing, it is not found in the stones of Göbeklitepe, but in psychiatrists.” Considering statements that clearly demonstrate how such beliefs hinder access to science, she added that these beliefs harm scientific excavation sites, causing even the smallest stone in the area to be considered sacred. She further noted that people who believe in these beliefs, if given the opportunity, go to these areas and carry out illegal excavations and dynamite explosions, thus destroying the sites. Another popular culture element that believes in the power of words supporting energy, quantum fields, and inner journeys is the concept of the manifest. While the word manifest literally means a clear, distinct, and easily understandable expression, it takes on a completely different meaning in the context of belief. Proponents of manifest believe they can request something from the universe by expressing it as if it has already happened and “spreading its energy.” In this process, there is an acceptance of a kind of “law of attraction” created by thoughts. However, the concept of the law of attraction is based on a physical law, such as electromagnetism. Therefore, it is impossible to ground manifest thinking in real scientific laws.

Individuals who adopt manifesto thinking believe that maintaining a consistently positive attitude increases the likelihood of desired events occurring. However, it is necessary to draw attention to a fallacy called Positive Fantasy. Research shows that merely having positive fantasies makes individuals passive and weakens their motivation to act. This is also problematic from a science communication perspective. Because messages based solely on positive imagery, not planned to lead to behavioral change, can reinforce a passive waiting culture at the societal level. Science communication, on the other hand, It is not only about instilling hope, but also about guiding people to action with realistic, evidence-based information. A simple “imagine and wait” approach contradicts the fundamental principles of behavioral science. Manifest statements often consist of impressive, simple, and all-encompassing sentences. For example, statements like, “You are able to recognize the signs the universe is giving you and you are attracting the abundance you deserve,” instill a strong belief in people. While such statements can be persuasive, from a science communication perspective, they can weaken critical thinking skills. People are more inclined to accept such claims without questioning them.

When the manifest belief doesn’t materialize, it is justified with explanations such as, “You sent the wrong energy,” “You didn’t want it enough,” or “The universe has better plans for you.” Thus, the manifest concept transforms into a belief system that cannot be falsified no matter what is done, which clearly contradicts the principle of falsifiability, a fundamental principle of scientific thinking. While some people try to use manifests as a goal-setting tool for planning, they often expect results simply by saying the right words, as if they have found a magic formula. This situation leads to passive expectation without effort. This risk is particularly important in terms of science communication. Because when realistic goals, behavioral plans, and evidence-based information are not presented, there is a danger of weakening society’s connection with scientific thinking.

Lack of Science and Uncertainty

People’s vulnerability to uncertainty leads them to belief systems that promise false hopes but lack a scientific basis. Concepts such as astrology, fortune telling, tarot, energy, quantum leaps, and manifestos are systems embellished with an attempt to appear scientific, but because they are based on general and personal interpretations, they do not produce real knowledge. Such beliefs offer people the illusion of control while simultaneously overshadowing scientific thinking and questioning. Science, on the other hand, is a system that progresses through observation, experimentation, and logic, open to doubt and change. It is not the position of the stars or the openness of chakras that determines life, but decisions made with reason and knowledge. Instead of being captivated by the allure of pseudoscience, equipping oneself with real knowledge is the healthiest path to individual development and societal progress.

Manifest, Energy, Quantum: Fake Science yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

“By arguing that ‘the medium is an extension of the human body or mind,’ he described the wheel as an extension of the foot, the book as an extension of the eye, and clothing as an extension of the skin.”

For those less familiar with his scholarly work or theoretical writings, Marshall McLuhan is often recognized by that famous photograph of him standing before a wall of television screens. In the public imagination, he remains a prominent media figure and one of the founding fathers of New Media theory. With the concept of the Global Village he introduced in the 1960s, he foresaw that the internet would become an infrastructure technology; at a time when everyone was focused on content, that is the message he pointed to the tools, or more accurately, the “medium.” Through his provocative ideas, television appearances, lectures, and presence in mainstream media, he elevated his fame far beyond the typical sphere of influence for an academic. He succeeded in reaching a wide audience; with his media critiques, cultural analyses, and distinctive aphorisms woven into his compelling style, he became a well-known figure. Thus, he is recognized as one of the most influential media theorists of his time and as one of the early science communicators, successfully opening up his ideas for public debate. Discussions on how mass media influences human senses and the balance between them continue to follow the path McLuhan pioneered. The media theories and analytical framework he established remain a powerful conceptual tool for studies aiming to interpret new media.

McLuhan is particularly remembered for concepts such as The Medium Is the Message and The Global Village; for this reason, he has faced harsh criticism from academic communities. However, the fact that the internet and social media have evolved into a fundamental communication technology worldwide, as he predicted, serves as proof of how accurate his predictions were. Moreover, McLuhan’s ideas were not limited to books; he reached out to the public through his unforgettable interview with one of the most popular magazines of his time, Playboy (1969). By distilling his media theories down to their simplest terms and illustrating them with examples relevant to everyone’s daily life, he used the very medium through which he communicated his ideas as a tool in the process. Indeed, by stating that “The medium is the extension of man”, he described the wheel as an extension of the foot, the book as an extension of the eye, and clothing as an extension of the skin; he defi ned technology as a natural part of humanity’s process of enhancing its own capabilities. In this interview, he elaborated on one of his most memorable statements, “The medium is the message,” by saying, “Television is not just an entertainment box; it reshapes the way people see, hear, feel, and think,” and he engraved his theory in people’s minds using examples from everyday life. Another medium through which McLuhan continued his efforts to popularize science was television. After his books made it onto the bestseller lists, McLuhan was featured in the episode titled The Medium is the Message from NBC’s documentary series Experiment in Television. Produced with an experimental approach, this episode visualizes McLuhan’s theories through colored lights, rapid editing, and a pop-art aesthetic. The documentary describes McLuhan as the “high priest of pop culture” and a “trendy intellectual.”

“‘Television is not just an entertainment box; it reshapes the way people see, hear, feel, and think,’ and he engraved his theory in people’s minds using examples from everyday life.”

He employed the same strategy in his lectures, conveying his theories through examples that resonated with students’ lives. Rejecting traditional lecture formats, he used everyday details from advertising slogans to newspapers and from popular songs to street signs as examples. He analyzed Coca- Cola’s Things go better with Coke slogan and examined the poetic narrative of advertisements. In this way, he produced theoretical approaches using data gathered from everyday life, translating abstract analyses into understandable language. Through this, he brought academia’s closed discourse into everyday life in a way that the average person could comprehend. While explaining how even typography shapes human thought, he illustrated how every detail from the layout of newspaper pages and street posters to the arrangement of lines in store windows shapes perception. He emphasized that writing shapes the senses not only through its meaning but also through its form.

In his lectures, he effectively put on a stage performance; through humor, irony, and theatrical gestures, he aimed not only to have the audience listen but also to surprise them, make them think, and encourage them to question. From time to time, with unexpected phrases like “Today I’m not speaking to you, but to this microphone,” he conveyed the impact of the medium directly to those watching in that very moment. He described the massive live broadcast Our World in 1967, featuring twenty-four countries, as a communication miracle in which the world had transformed into a Global Village. He characterized The Beatles’ performance of All You Need Is Love as a collective rhythm in which millions of people could share the same emotion simultaneously. In this way, he defi ned a technological revolution as a process that resonates with the public’s senses. Similarly, in that unforgettable scene from Woody Allen’s Annie Hall where a character brings McLuhan into the, his intervention in the characters’ discussion with the line “you know nothing of my work” served as a way to infuse his theory into popular culture. In this way, he brought even an academic debate to the public using the language of humor and everyday life, thereby taking science communication beyond its traditional boundaries. One of his most remarkable works is the book The Medium Is the Massage. Like his other works, this book is based on his own theories, as he explains them.

Unlike standard theoretical texts, McLuhan crafted this book using collage aesthetics, typographic play, visuals, and short passages, thereby embodying the image that form is an integral part of content. He also collaborated on this book with Quentin Fiore, one of the most important graphic designers of his time, producing a visually appealing work that brought it recognition. While the word “Massage” in the book’s title, may appear to be a mistake, he explained that he chose to use “massage” instead of “message,” implying that communication tools stimulate and shape human senses like a massage. Thus, even the book’s title has become an example reflecting McLuhan’s theoretical horizon.

During the years when McLuhan was developing his theories, the prevailing perspective in communication studies was an approach that focused on the content of messages and drew on models of propaganda and attitude change. In contrast to this content-centered approach that took shape after World War II, McLuhan placed the medium at the center, opening a discussion of the transformative role of the medium’s carrier in human senses and social order, thereby distinguishing himself from his contemporaries. Structuralist and language-centered theorists generally found McLuhan’s emphasis on the determinism of media to be reductionist (oversimplifying a complicated issue by trying to explain it using only one single cause), prioritizing the analysis of symbolic orders and cultural codes. Sociological critiques, meanwhile, viewed his positioning of technology as the sole key to social change as incomplete, arguing that he overlooked the cultural context.

Despite all these ideological differences, McLuhan opened up a space for public discourse not only through his conceptual vision but also through the way he shared these concepts with society; he succeeded in popularizing his theory by establishing a broad repertoire of communication, ranging from television programs to radio interviews, and from magazine columns to theatrical performances on stage. He embraced television, the rising medium of the era, before his peers, going beyond merely describing its transformative impact to letting people experience it firsthand. This is because television, especially from the mid-1950s onward, took its place in homes and became the center of daily life.

“McLuhan’s concepts of ‘cool’ and ‘hot’ media among his most important conceptual tools provide a significant framework by explaining the interaction between the user and the medium.”

Television transformed the social steering power that radio and cinema had maintained for many years by offering moving images, sounds, and live broadcast capabilities. With its diverse content ranging from news bulletins to entertainment programs, from series to sports broadcasts, it shaped the daily routines of the masses, transforming people’s agendas and even the way they perceive life. While bringing individuals together around a shared visual culture, it has reshaped the advertising industry from top to bottom, serving as a pillar for the spread of consumer culture on a mass scale. With this effect bringing family members together in front of the same screen in daily life and reorganizing the flow of life, it has also provided a powerful example to support McLuhan’s distinction between “hot” and “cool” media.

McLuhan’s concepts of “cool” and “hot” media among his most important conceptual tools provide a significant framework by explaining the interaction between the user and the medium. Examples of these include radio, cinema, and printed books. These media are defi ned as “hot” tools because they feature high resolution, dense data, and closed meanings. This is because these tools leave no room for the viewer to think, thereby creating a passive perceptual process. In contrast, “cool” tools are media that offer low resolution, incomplete data, and force the viewer to complete the meaning, thereby requiring active participation.

However, McLuhan places television in a very different category within cold media. He compares the viewer’s data flow in a “cool” participatory medium to a mosaic. To understand this method of data transmission, first understanding “what a mosaic is and why he equates television with it” is important.

In its most basic sense, a mosaic is a visual art form in which small, colorful pieces (stone, glass, ceramic, etc.) come together to form a whole. While each piece may not carry meaning on its own, when placed side by side, they create a large and meaningful composition. McLuhan uses this aesthetic structure to describe the modes of perception and thought in the media age. According to him, modern communication media -particularly television, advertisements, magazines, and later the internet- present information not in a sequential and linear manner, but in a fragmented, polyphonic, and simultaneous way. This requires the viewer to do more than just watch; it demands the ability to actively “fi ll in” the missing pieces. Social media feeds are one of the most prominent examples of this mosaic structure today. An Instagram Explore page or a TikTok feed creates a mosaic-like transmission experience where independent fragments are arranged randomly yet form a coherent whole in the user’s mind. Here, the mosaic is not merely an aesthetic element but is regarded as a new form of thinking, seeing, and constructing meaning in the media age.

McLuhan’s mosaic narrative form is directly intertwined with the concept of “cool media.” Just as a mosaic presents a fragmented and incomplete whole to be completed in the viewer’s mind, cold media also expects active participation from the viewer. Such media do not present everything “readymade” in high resolution; rather, they provoke perception, leave gaps, and make the viewer a part of the process. Mosaic structures such as newspaper layouts, advertising collages, or social media feeds do not transmit information directly; instead, they create chains of associations in the minds of their audiences. Thus mosaic aesthetics aligns closely with the fundamental characteristics of cool media. Low definition encourages high participation and, consequently, the production of multiple meanings. Television’s “two-dimensional mosaic” narrative, the constantly shifting content of social media, and postmodern designs constructed through collage techniques all establish a relationship in which the audience is not merely a consumer but also a producer of meaning. In this context, the mosaic structure can be understood as the visual and structural counterpart of McLuhan’s concept of cool media.

Within all these television programs and the institutional frameworks used to communicate with the masses, one of the most symbolic examples of McLuhan’s rise to international prominence was his feature in Time Magazine in 1969. Appearing in such a prestigious publication was an almost unimaginable sign of popularity for a communication theorist. The magazine described him with striking phrases like “the high priest of pop culture” and “the metaphysician of media,” emphasizing that he was a figure capable of speaking to the broader public’s search for meaning in a rapidly changing world of communication. He did not limit his influence to print and visual media; in connection with his work The Medium is the Massage, he recorded an audio album (LP) composed of music, sound, and fragmented narratives, thereby extending his theory into an auditory experience. McLuhan’s influence was not confi ned to North America; his ideas were widely discussed in intellectual circles across Europe, particularly in the United Kingdom and France, and are considered to have inspired the media theories of later thinkers such as Baudrillard.

Marshall McLuhan was not only one of the most influential media theorists of the 20th century but also a powerful science communicator who could convey his theories by bringing them directly into everyday life. His media theory opened a new paradigm in understanding communication by arguing that the medium is more powerful than the message; by viewing technology as a natural extension of humanity, he redefi ned the relationship between humans, the senses and technology. By appearing in popular media, he succeeded in bringing academic thought into the lives of ordinary people; through his conferences, television programs, magazine interviews, and stage performances, he transformed his theory into a spectacle, thereby making science accessible to the masses. McLuhan’s predictions have been largely validated by the rise of the internet, social media, and globalized communication networks, and the concept of the global village has become a reality in today’s world.

Despite all criticism, the analytical framework he developed regarding media remains a fundamental reference point in media studies. His legacy is an intellectual he approaches communication not merely as the transmission of information, but as a dynamic process that transforms human senses, modes of perception, and social structures.

In this regard, McLuhan is remembered as a theorist who continues to shed light on modern communication studies and whose ideas stand the test of time.

Marshall McLuhan: The Mastermind Behind the Media yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

“In this realm of simulacra, the sole entity that maintains significance is Truman’s resilient mind. Christof is correct concerning one aspect: the external environment also presents numerous hazards. Indeed, the external world is not as secure as Seahaven; it is marked by chaos and uncertainty. According to Baudrillard, it is the “Desert of the Real.” Perhaps Christof’s confinement is not Seahaven itself but rather the comfortable living rooms of individuals who opt to change the channel instead of pursuing the truth and questioning their surroundings.”

“…good afternoon, good evening and good night!” 

The Truman Show, which opens with this line, chronicles the life of  Truman Burbank, a 30-year-old American man who has lived in a simulation since birth. This film, portraying Truman’s life broadcast live 24/7 to the world, symbolizes the loss of reality and privacy. No spontaneity or chance occurrences are allowed in Truman’s existence. Every aspect of his life is carefully orchestrated, including his encounters and conversations. His name combines “True” and “Man,” meaning “True-Man.” Interestingly, his last name, “Burbank,” is also the name of a media hub in California home to many Hollywood studios.

In a world filled with simulacra, Truman stands out as the only consciousness challenging the simulation’s limits. His name emphasizes his contradictory position within this simulated universe. In the fictional town of Seahaven where he resides, everyone is an actor devoid of true reality and emotion, merely reciting lines and performing roles to keep Truman confined within his artificial life. Despite his environment being fabricated, Truman’s feelings sadness, joy, longing, fear and his words are genuine. In Baudrillard’s view, the system relies on the innocence of the “True man” to maintain itself, mask its artificial nature, and convince viewers of a genuine truth. Humanity, adapting to its technological age, has become increasingly dependent on communication tools. The once pondered question “What is reality?” has faded into obscurity, replaced by the comfort of simulation. Baudrillard describes himself as a “theoretical terrorist,” believing that the only way to threaten the seamless machinery of modern simulation is through subversive ideas-taking meaning hostage and exposing the illusion of reality. Baudrillard’s main critique targets Disneyland, often seen as the embodiment of the American Dream. He argues that America is so fake, a literal concrete jungle, and lacking soul that it creates an entirely irrational fantasy world to keep people from questioning reality. Disneyland’s strange fictions aim to convince visitors that the outside gray city is real. When they leave this illusion and step back onto the streets, the real world seems even more authentic.

The clever tactic is to make visitors believe their gray; dull city is the real thing. Similar to how prisons make inmates feel that freedom has been lost – freedom they cannot see or reach but still know exists. People often desire what they’ve never experienced but deeply wished to. When even a faint hint of possibility arises in your mind’s deepest recesses, everything around you seems insignificant, insincere, and hollow. Disneyland was built to suppress and erase this feeling of longing. Similarly, in The Truman Show, Seahaven functions as a Disneyland created solely for Truman. Yet, Truman’s situation is much more tragic. Visitors to Disneyland see it as a simulation, and once they leave, they consider the real world as genuine. In contrast, Truman exists entirely within the simulation.

“Baudrillard argues that Truman’s world isn’t merely a lie or imitation. Imitation naturally recognizes reality’s existence and reminds us that it still exists. In this view, Truman’s life in Seahaven can be understood through Baudrillard’s ideas of simulation and simulacra.”

The primary illusion is that the outside world is real, but Disneyland aims to hide the fact that it is also a simulation. The world visitors believe to be real when they return is just as fictional as Truman’s. Baudrillard argues that Truman’s world isn’t merely a lie or imitation. Imitation naturally recognizes reality’s existence and reminds us that it still exists. In this view, Truman’s life in Seahaven can be understood through Baudrillard’s ideas of simulation and simulacra. He describes simulation as “the generation by models of a real without origin or reality,” meaning creating appearances of something that doesn’t exist, which displays all signs of reality but isn’t real itself.

A simulacrum is a copy without an original, made through this process. Acting as if there’s an original when none exists doesn’t imply Baudrillard seeks lost reality; instead, he states that reality has disappeared entirely.

Consequently, simulation gains its power from this absence, rooted in nihilism and nothingness. The question then arises: how does this hyperreal universe remain convincing? It does so through an invisible, absolute surveillance system that keeps subjects under control. Truman’s tragedy demonstrates this concept-the world around him has gone beyond mere falsehood, evolving into a hyperreal existence.

According to Baudrillard, America exists as a hyperreal universe, neither fully real nor merely a dream. This hyperreality is depicted in the film not only through dialogue but also via subtle background symbols and carefully crafted details. The initial hour feels like a continuous “Truman Show,” with viewers watching Truman on TV and their reactions reflecting our own. After this hour, the film shifts focus to “keeping Truman inside the box” and explores emerging moral dilemmas.

The practical embodiment of this theoretical framework in the film is best illustrated by director Christof’s approach. When Christof, who directs Truman, joins a live broadcast, the reporter thanks him, saying, “We all know how jealously you guard your privacy.” This contrasts sharply with Truman, whose entire life is constantly recorded through hidden cameras, showing how authority’s true power lies in invisibility. While Christof’s role closely resembles the central observer in Bentham’s Panopticon, Truman does not police his behavior, because he is unaware of the cameras watching him and does not feel the oppressive gaze.

Throughout the film, whenever Truman experiences anger or emotional crises, his wife Meryl doesn’t offer support; instead, she suggests, “You know, you really ought to throw out that mower. Get one of those new Elk Rotaries.” In our world, it’s very easy to become a consumer because solutions are often presented as products that require ongoing purchase, rather than through access to healthcare and therapy. Director Christof deliberately caused Truman to lose his father at sea to evoke fear of the ocean, thereby trying to stop Truman from traveling abroad.

In a scene, Truman sits alone on the beach, gazing at the sea, when a flashback shows his father disappearing during a storm at sea. It is unclear whether Truman genuinely remembers this event, but it can be seen as the message the director aimed to communicate to the audience.

When the flashback concludes, it begins to rain just enough to soak Truman. The cloud seems to follow him everywhere. However, this unusual sight doesn’t frighten Truman; instead, it boosts his confidence, helping him find the courage to escape. When he gets back home, he eagerly tells his wife about his plan to go to Fiji. This scene highlights how little the director understands Truman. The director believed the rain would trigger Truman to remember his father’s death and become scared, but Truman’s immediate thought was to cross the ocean and reach Fiji. By the end of the movie, despite all the obstacles in his way, Truman finds a boat and begins his journey alone.

He believes he can finally realize his dream of going to Fiji, but the director is resolute in preventing him. Truman reaches the end of the artificial sea where his boat has been sailing and crashes into the sky-like set. His face shows a mix of surprise and disappointment. At that moment, the director decides to speak to Truman directly for the first time. Truman cannot see him, but the director’s voice comes from the sky. This serves as proof that the director views himself as Truman’s creator. When the director tells Truman, “There’s no more truth out there than there is the world I created for you.” Truman’s shocked response is, “You never had a camera in my head.” This line explains why the flashbacks in the movie don’t always align with Truman’s decisions.

“The film’s true conclusion lies in the scene with the two security guards who cheer for Truman’s escape, only to ask, ‘What else is on?’ the moment the screen goes dark. This ending encapsulates the film’s central thesis, illustrating Baudrillard’s assertion that meaning implodes within an endless media flow where a war report and a commercial are consumed with identical detachment, and the audience remains thoroughly desensitized to reality.

Truman steps off the stage through the black door to seek reality, illustrating a poignant act of courage. Despite the fear and chaos that may await outside, he chooses to forge his own path. This moment highlights the tragic heroism in facing the unknown, as the world of simulation relies on the abandonment of such courage. The system endures only when individuals cease resistance, accept their predetermined roles without question, and survive solely through consumption.

We never see what happens to Truman afterward. He spends his entire life watched by cameras and desperately tries to escape that reality. If the film had shown his actions after he walked through the door, it wouldn’t have conveyed the profound experience of leaving the simulation.

What happens next is unique to Truman himself, making his story singular. The film’s true conclusion lies in the scene with the two security guards who cheer for Truman’s escape, only to ask, “What else is on?” the moment the screen goes dark. This ending encapsulates the film’s central thesis, illustrating Baudrillard’s assertion that meaning implodes within an endless media flow where a war report and a commercial are consumed with identical detachment, and the audience remains thoroughly desensitized to reality. Throughout the film, viewers are engaged with Truman’s life, curious about his fate, but once his life is no longer broadcast, he seems to vanish, as if he never existed. For the audience, the show simply becomes entertainment.

“You never had a camera in my head.” This line defines the limits of the simulation. While power can confine the body, simulate environments, and influence surroundings, it can never fully access the human mind’s privacy. Truman’s triumph wasn’t just about leaving that door; it was about the thirty years he spent under constant surveillance, during which he created a genuine sanctuary within his mind-a place even the creator of his world couldn’t invade.

In a world filled with simulacra, Truman’s unbreakable mind is the only thing that keeps meaning alive. Christof is correct about one thing: the outside world is also fraught with dangers. It’s true that the outside isn’t as safe as Seahaven; it’s chaotic and unpredictable. As Baudrillard describes, it’s the “Desert of the Real.” Maybe Christof’s prison isn’t Seahaven itself, but the cozy living rooms of those of us who prefer to change the channel rather than face the truth and question the world around us.

Just as Christof persuaded Truman that he was experiencing a natural flow of events instead of a world of illusions, the film persuades us of the same idea. While observing Truman’s artificial world, we, like visitors to Disneyland, are under the illusion that our own world is authentic.

Truman woke up and left. But what about us? We’re still on air…

“The Desert of Real” Welcome Truman yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

“Imagine a board game whose purpose is to make the player question the inequalities created by private property in the means of production and the order established by capitalism. Then, it becomes part of a global capital cycle with over 270 million copies sold. Here it is: the game that, over the years, has transformed into one of the most profitable products of the very system it criticizes The Landlord’s Game! known to us as Monopoly.”

The Landlord’s Game was initially designed to explain to the public the teachings of American economist and philosopher Henry George, who lived in the 19th century, which seemed outdated. The game aimed to reveal how the aristocratic class, that is, landowners, could earn unjust profits without any effort, simply by renting out their land, and how this situation disempowered and impoverished society. At the core of everything was the Industrial Revolution, which opened the doors to a new era in world history. A century before The Landlord’s Game, in the 18th century, the emergence of steam engines increased production capacity and speed. This led to a greater need for human labor on the production line.

The new era raised an additional question mark for factory owners: “Who will work in the factories?” The invention of massive production lines and brand-new machines quickly led to a shortage of the urban workforce. In response, the wealthy began purchasing land in rural areas where peasants lived and started fencing off the properties. Meanwhile, peasants who continued agricultural activities on shared lands lost their land through the enclosure method called “fencing” leaving them with no choice but to work in factories. Due to this situation, in just 20 years, 150,000 villagers migrated to Washington, D.C., doubling the city’s population.

This rapid population growth brought with it outbreaks of infectious diseases, housing problems, and unemployment. During this period, since taxes were levied per person or on consumption, and there was no income tax as we know it today, factory owners earned millions of dollars annually and paid not a single cent in taxes to the government. Because the government did not collect taxes on production, all tax burdens were placed on consumption and customs duties. In this era, when mercantilist trade was dominant focused solely on selling produced goods by restricting foreign trade high customs tariffs protected large companies. These companies were shielded from foreign competition.

Elizabeth Magie (Lizzie Magie)

This tax system further facilitated conditions for big corporations, allowing monopolistic firms to raise prices at will. Landowners who enclosed land and seized it either used it for their own production or sold it to the public at exorbitant prices. Workers with nowhere to live had to accept high rents, spending all their resources just to survive. Perhaps this was because Henry George’s ideas seemed outdated. Witnessing the unchecked growth of corporations and the people’s existence in poverty, economist George began to envision a system where, contrary to popular belief, the people were not victims. According to his philosophical principles, resources bestowed by nature such as water, air, and land could not be owned by any individual or institution. Land was a resource that people had to actively use in order to sustain their lives. Therefore, the use needed to be regulated by a fair system. This way, everyone could benefit from the land, and no one could unjustly fence off the land. George called this approach the “Single Tax” system.

“Maggie thought she was approaching the problem incorrectly and realized that the real question should be, ‘How can I teach without having people read books?’”

1906 yılında yayımlanan The Landlord’s Game oyun tahtası

According to George, the state did not own the land. However, to ensure equality, the revenue generated from the land also needed to be regulated. If only the base value of the land excluding buildings, factories, or shops was taxed, the state could properly fulfill its contract with society. However, George’s ideas were not aligned with the interests of the wealthy and the state of that era, which existed to protect their rights.

In this society, where literacy rates were quite low, the Single Tax System was supported mainly by academics and a limited segment of people who could see the entire economic order. George emphasized in his books and public speeches that a very large portion of the land belongs to the wealthy, and that the state can survive simply by taxing the rich. The excess revenue from these taxes could be equally redistributed to all citizens under the heading of universal basic income. Moreover, this system would prevent anyone from occupying land without a purpose; otherwise, they would incur financial loss, and the land would naturally be transferred to someone who truly uses it.

Henry George’s supporter, American writer and feminist activist Maggie Lizzie, believed that the Single Tax System could transform their world into an egalitarian one. Rejecting the oppressive norms of her time, Lizzie centered her feminist struggle on economic change. She was a highly proactive and significant figure of her era, conveying her ideas to the public through poetry, articles, plays, group discussions, and comedic elements. Through her work, she aimed to show many women that they were not only destined for household chores but also capable of pursuing fields such as politics, science, and economics. Maggie, with an excellent sense of her society’s pulse, built strong bonds with the lower classes, contrary to the prevailing narrative of intellectuals of her time. She believed she played an important role in building a society without poverty, where people wouldn’t have to work their entire lives just to survive.

In this context, she moved to Washington D.C. in 1890 to advance her struggle. She became a founding member of the Washington Women’s Single Tax Association, established under women’s leadership. To draw attention to the issues of the system, she took action by placing a newspaper ad under the name “A Young American Slave,” selling herself as a form of protest.

Maggie realized after a few years of working with the association that she wasn’t reaching enough people. She began to look for different ways to connect with the working class. In a savage capitalist society where literacy rates are so low and the average working day exceeds half a day, she found that people couldn’t read books, or, even if they could, they didn’t have the time or economic means to do so. Soon, Maggie thought she was approaching the problem incorrectly and realized that the real question should be, “How can I teach without having people read books?” Capitalism, which turned the private ownership of the means of production and monopoly into rules, moves, and outcomes, emerged as a result of such a problem. Maggie thus condensed into a board two different versions of the game: one criticizing the contradictions of the system and the other based on Henry George’s Single Tax System and the social distribution of economic gains.

According to this, either one player or all players would win. The version where only one player wins is called The Future I Fear, and the other is called The Future I Dream. In the fi rst version, where only one player wins, players try to monopolize, so the other players become opponents rather than teammates.

One of the The Landlord’s Game variants played among Quakers; an archival photograph from the Harvey family collection.

Each player buys the land they pass through, then builds on these plots, thereby increasing the money they will collect from other players. The game then enters an endless cycle that lasts for hours. For Maggie, even this length is significant in itself. In this version, as the game progresses, inequality deepens, and the gap between the winner and the loser widens progressively.

“This game, which gradually lost its originality over time, was one day noticed by Charles Darrow, an unemployed marketer, while it was being played on the street by Quakers. Darrow’s friend, impressed by the game, excitedly goes home and mentions it to Darrow.”

In the Future I Dream version, there are rules in which everyone wins and a single tax system applies. This time, the bank represents the state. When a player wants to build a structure on a property, they must pay a certain amount to the bank each turn. Other players who land on this building pay rent to the owner. When the bank’s cash box is full, the accumulated money is distributed equally among all players. In this system, where there is continuous money circulation, everyone gains even if progress is slow. To end the game, all players must at least double their initial money.

The game is designed to make people think, but when it is presented to the public, it doesn’t cause the kind of major breakthrough Maggie was expecting. It doesn’t make headlines or become a topic for the general public. People start playing the game at home, among small groups of friends. Over time, the game, especially on college campuses, circulates from hand to hand, sparking discussions among students.

Thus, The Landlord’s Game spreads quietly but relentlessly, reaching as far as the East Coast of America. After a while, the game also gained popularity among Quakers, a religious community dedicated to teaching God’s word. However, since board games had not yet become an industry, the games were not mass-produced; they were copied by hand. They were passed from person to person. This situation led to the emergence of different versions of The Landlord’s Game over time. The game began to be played with different neighborhood names, varying bank rules, and local interpretations. The each reproduction, the rules stretched, diversified, and transformed a little more.

This game, which gradually lost its originality over time, was one day noticed by Charles Darrow, an unemployed marketer, while it was being played on the street by Quakers. Darrow’s friend, impressed by the game, excitedly goes home and mentions it to Darrow. That evening, they try playing the game with the Future I Fear version. Darrow literally falls in love with the game, and afterward, he and his friend create an exact copy of it at home. The copy they prepared is so similar to the original that even the mistake made when writing the name of the neighborhood where they found the game, Marvin Gardens, is preserved exactly.

The next morning, Darrow and his friend go to Parker Brothers, now part of Hasbro Games, one of the world’s largest game companies, to present the game. Parker Brothers likes the game very much, purchases it from Darrow, and begins marketing efforts. However, the founders of Parker Brothers never fully trusted Darrow, and they even believed that Darrow was not the true owner of the game. This suspicion is not limited to the founders; many people around them also find the situation contradictory and repeatedly warn Parker Brothers. Ignoring these warnings, Parker Brothers tries to cover up the evidence. After a while, during their research on The Landlord’s Game, they come across a patent that Maggie obtained 14 years earlier. To avoid future legal issues, they go to Maggie. They promise not to deviate from the original purpose of the game, and, in exchange for paying her $500, they buy the patent from the original owner. In line with their promise to Maggie, they initially released the game in its original form and maintained this original structure for several series.

However, Parker Brothers’ promise to Maggie was limited only to these few series. Since no marketing efforts were made for the games produced, they gathered dust on the shelves. In contrast, the version of Monopoly that depicted capitalism, called The Future I Fear, was released alongside Darrow and received a massive investment and was officially registered. The company erased the game’s true origins and Maggie’s existence. The marketing department promoted the story that the game was invented by a desperate man, Darrow, who lost his job during the Great Depression, in his basement to entertain his wife and children, as an “American Dream”. When Monopoly became the best-selling board game in history, Charles Darrow, known as the “original inventor’ of the game, was introduced to the media as the first person to become a millionaire by designing a game. He spent the rest of his life in luxury.

“Maggie, who sold her patent for only $500 and, under the agreement, did not receive any royalties, could not earn a single penny from the game’s global success. When she passed away in 1948, despite seeing that the game she designed to warn people had become a ‘symbol of greed,’ she died as a strong woman who refused to give up and continued her fight”

Maggie, who sold her patent for only $500 and, under the agreement, did not receive any royalties, could not earn a single penny from the game’s global success. When she passed away in 1948, despite seeing that the game she designed to warn people had become a “symbol of greed,” she died as a strong woman who refused to give up and continued her fight.

Her obituary in the press did not mention that she was the inventor of the game. The purpose of The Landlord’s Game and the set of rules called the Future I Dream, which reflects Henry George’s theoretical work based on common profit and equal sharing, was completely removed from the rulebook by Parker Brothers. All that remained was the Future I Fear, a simulation of savage capitalism where all players try to ruin each other. Today, Monopoly, which millions of people around the world enjoy playing, was actually the economic system Maggie wanted to warn people about.

The game, originally designed to criticize landowners’ unjust profits and the evils of monopolies, had turned into a tool that teaches people “How to become a ruthless real estate millionaire?” This story would probably have been lost in the unknown parts of history forever. However, in the 1970s, an economics professor named Ralph Anspach designed a game called “ Anti- Monopoly” to criticize the capitalist values of Monopoly…

Anspach was surprised when he faced a copyright lawsuit and began a thorough investigation. Through years of legal battles and meticulous detective work, he discovered Maggie’s story. Today, while trying to spread Henry George’s ideas of equal sharing, Maggie’s story -full of strugglescontinues to shed light on society, even decades after her death, as the creator of the most iconic symbol of capitalism.

Heist of Monopoly: A Stolen Story yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

“We stay in the flow to not miss anything, but we miss the flow of real life.”

One of the most historic universities, Oxford University, annually selects the word of the year by publicly voting on the most used words of that year. In the 2024 vote, which drew 37,000 participants, the word of the year was brain rot, meaning mental decay. So, what is this brain rot?

This concept describes the negative impact of social media, seen as a silent threat of the digital age, and depicts how our minds are decaying because of constant exposure to low-quality, shallow content presented in quick-to-consume formats. As a result of the revenue models of popular social platforms, an endless pool of content creates a “I must not miss out on anything” feeling in users. This feeling keeps us in a constant flow of content. At the same time, app notifications aim to arouse our curiosity.

We stay in the feed to avoid missing something, but in doing so, we miss the flow of real life. This emotional state also paves the way for the consumption frenzy to somewhat encroach on our minds. As our minds continue to consume, they become blurred, and our ability to focus gradually diminishes.

On social media platforms, short stories shared by content creators that depict personal experiences are becoming increasingly popular. Instead of guiding viewers toward any particular thought, this type of content presents pleasure-focused snippets that position viewers as passive recipients. Another major factor contributing to mental cloudiness is the growing variety of platforms and the unrestricted access to social media, which, despite being harmful to human health, remains free from regulation.

The unlimited access to digital platforms leads to an increase in user numbers, expands the influence of “brain rot,” and is becoming a more destructive, rapidly growing societal problem. Social media addiction becomes a more serious problem on a global scale. While millions of people using social media feel its effects, many scientific studies also show that social media increases the risk of depression. Additionally, according to a 2023 study called Victims of Social Media by the University of Michigan, it is believed that approximately 70% of Generation Z is addicted to social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok.

“Social platforms shape people’s shared opinions, determine their conscious or unconscious inferences, and even influence what they consider important and how they should behave, thereby controlling us.”

One of the main reasons for this situation is the platforms’ commercial interests. Because the revenue models of these platforms rely on user data, they depend heavily on active user participation. As a result, platforms constantly release updates to keep users engaged and feed off each other. Following TikTok’s popularization of the short-form video format, Instagram integrated the format into its own platform under the name “Reels.”

While being exposed to a rapid and continuous flow of information, social media platforms, which make it feel as if it is possible to be “every moment, everywhere, and in every period of history,” compress the 24-hour flow of time into short time periods, causing a compression of time and space.

From the invention of perfume to the uncharted forests of the Amazon, it creates an illusion that feeds on mental decay by presenting different historical periods and locations one after another in just a few seconds. This situation transforms our perception and causes us to disconnect from real life.

According to research conducted by We Are Social in April 2025, there are 5.81 billion social media accounts. This accounts for 70.7% of the world population. The average screen time is 2 hours 21 minutes. Additionally, the data from this research only covers social media users aged 18 and above. In Türkiye, this duration can extend up to 2 hours 48 minutes. As the statistics also show, social media platforms are increasingly consuming more of our time each day, accelerating our consumption habits.

Social platforms shape people’s shared opinions, determine their conscious or unconscious inferences, and even influence what they consider important and how they should behave, thereby controlling us.

One of the recent examples is the 2016 United States presidential election, where there were claims that Donald Trump manipulated the election through Facebook. These platforms surround us, draw us in, and even exploit our data access preferences to develop marketing strategies. In fact, these are the fundamental requirements for their existence. Day by day, even if we don’t physically decay, we are mentally deteriorating due to the social media content we are exposed to without realizing it. That’s why the concept of “Brain Rot” defines the year 2024.

Characteristics of Brain Rot

We have asked ChatGPT if the concept of “Brain Rot” were a person, what kind of person would it be, and what would it look like? The following paragraphs are the direct excerpts of its answers which are: I would feel sorry for this person because it seemed like they had been overwhelmed by the pace of the modern world and the digital flow, living with a constantly diminishing energy. They were distant from deep thinking, always consuming something but never truly satisfied. It looked like they were trying to find themselves, but they were getting more lost in reality day by day.

At the same time, I would feel a bit worried. Because this person had the potential to spread the same exhaustion and carelessness to the people around them. I felt like this person was stealing something from both their own life and those around them.

But perhaps what I would wonder most is: Can this person truly stop, take a breath, and try to listen to their own mental silence? Can Brain rot, with a little courage, fill that void? Or would this cycle of consumption become their lifestyle forever? Watching this person would be both tragic and thought-provoking.

From the Author’s Perspective I am aware of the irony that the technology we sometimes criticize is also criticizing us. Ultimately, we are being belittled by a technology we ourselves have developed. The questions that artificial intelligence is asking us, I now ask you as well. “Will this cycle of consumption continue to surround us with false happiness and keep rotting our brains until the end of our lives?”.

The Silent Threat of the Digial Age Brain Rot? yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.

Prof. Nurdoğan Rigel, one of Türkiye’s leading communication scholars, explores the foundational approaches and critical turning points in communication studies. Her account spans from the establishment of communication faculties in Türkiye and the urban sociology tradition of the Chicago School which played a significant role in shaping the discipline to the American years of Theodor Adorno, an influential figure of the Frankfurt School who paved the way for critical theory.

Aslı Şen: Welcome, Professor Rigel. It’s wonderful to have you with us. Could we begin by getting to know you a little better?

Nurdoğan Rigel: I completed my bachelor’s degree at Marmara University, followed by my master’s and doctorate at Istanbul University. Back then, first-year students were required to do an internship. I started mine at the Turkish News Agency (THA) with great enthusiasm. Once I joined the agency, I grew to love journalism even more, as you realize you’re learning far more than what is taught in the classroom. At the time, the Turkish News Agency was regarded as the best training ground for journalism, second only to the Anadolu Agency. Of course, you learn the profession the hard way. Ultimately, you cannot expect the managers and editors at your workplace to act as mentors; they are under constant pressure to deliver news on time. They are systematic and professional, while you are in the position of a novice, hoping for guidance. In fact, my first news stories often ended up in the trash. Our editor would cross out the parts he disliked with a red pen and throw them away. I would wait for him to leave for lunch, then retrieve the stories from the trash to examine his edits and notes. I taught myself how to write news that way. I learned everything how to gather, conceptualize, and organize a story through that process of trial and error, a real “baptism by fire.” Back then, at university, we mostly took classes from business, economics, and law professors; the field of ‘communication’ did not exist yet. We had only one or two lecturers from TRT or the Cumhuriyet newspaper, and they rarely attended classes. We were essentially emerging from an intellectual vacuum, and we had to fill that void through our own efforts. Every Tuesday and Thursday, foreign magazines arrived at the agency. I learned a great deal from them, particularly Newsweek and Time. Even just scanning the headlines in those magazines builds a significant body of knowledge a realization that truly hits you years later. Moreover, this environment forces you to develop reflexes: to think, read, and write at lightning speed. That muscle memory develops over time. It is a process you don’t notice while you are living it, but you realize how it shaped you years later, when you look back or when asked about it by others. Once that happens, you can never truly leave journalism.

Mustafa Burak Avcı: Professor, what led you to pursue a path in academia?

N.R: While I was learning so much at the Turkish News Agency, I found I couldn’t tear myself away from the university; my intellectual thirst was still very much alive. It was through the late Toktamış Ateş, a prominent professor at Istanbul University’s Faculty of Economics who frequently visited the agency, that I learned about the establishment of the Institute of Social Sciences. I wasn’t about to miss that opportunity, so I applied immediately.

Following my master’s and PhD studies, and I realized I had grown to love Istanbul University even more. Perhaps the influence of the distinguished professors from the law, political science, and business faculties played a role.

At the time, it was clear that Public Relations was closely intertwined with the field of Business School. The academic language of the other disciplines was quite challenging; law, as we know, has its own dense syntax, and political science, while somewhat more accessible, was still demanding. International Relations remains my great love, and because I approached it with genuine passion, political science became easier to engage with. Yet, I could never bring myself to like law even though I knew I had to master its language. Business Administration and Political Science ended up being my favorite areas of study. You see, back in that era, the field of communication science didn’t yet exist in Türkiye. The disciplines were structured as follows: Journalism and Public Relations, and Radio and Television; cinema was added later on. I pursued my master’s degree in Public Relations and Journalism. My master’s thesis was titled, “The Impact of Mass Media on Elections.” The story behind this thesis is quite interesting; in journalism, we have a practice known as pulling a quote. You extract a specific element from the content. Since a journalist must write a headline, they immediately pull out a key point from the text to use as the hook.

“Park was also the first to view the city as a laboratory and to recognize that communication functions as a form of social control. Communication is, in essence, a system of control that operates so subtly you hardly notice it.”

Robert E. Park, 1930s

One day, I came across the term “Political Advertising” in an editor’s column in Newsweek. “That’s it, I’ve found it!” I thought. I decided to base my thesis on this topic. However, there were no available resources on the subject at the time. While I was wondering how to proceed, I attended a fourto-five-day conference in Istanbul as a reporter. A multitude of professors were there political scientists, media and communication scholars… We were there to cover the event, but my mind was occupied with questions for my thesis. There was one particularly significant figure present, the kind of person who possesses a magical touch they might not realize the impact of their influence, but they leave a lasting impression. Betül Mardin was one of them. She was the pioneer of Public Relations in Türkiye, and she was at that very conference. She looked quite stern, but she was an absolutely wonderful lady. I approached her and explained my predicament. one day she called me to her office. “I will bring you an article from Time; you will see that political advertising is right there.”

I honestly thought that someone so incredibly busy and preoccupied would have forgotten all about me. But no, she hadn’t forgotten at all; she had actually brought the article. In essence, that article became the cornerstone of my work. It was a concept that existed globally, yet here, one had to struggle just to uncover it. Indeed, by the 1983 elections, advertisers led primarily by Man Ajans began to enter the fray. At that time, I went to interview Eli Acıman, and he had told me, “Forget about journalism, kid; come join our agency.” I was so intent on becoming a ‘great journalist’ that I declined. I hadn’t yet realized how much creativity and intelligence advertising demanded, or how much it could have contributed to my development. That remains one of my regrets.

I managed to complete the thesis somehow, and it became the very first study in this field in Türkiye. After that, I realized I had become someone who was constantly in pursuit of new concepts. I then pursued my Ph.D. in Radio and Television. After completing my master’s degree in Journalism and Public Relations, I decided to switch perspectives and see what I could learn from the other side of the discipline. My doctoral thesis examined how satellite and cable broadcasting technologies would lead to significant legal challenges, as they would either render existing laws obsolete or simply outpace them.

I used the Gulf War as a case study. I later adapted this thesis into a book titled The Electronic Renaissance (Elektronik Rönesans). Subsequently, I published several other books, including Media Lullabies (Medya Ninnileri), Dream Blindness (Rüya Körleşmesi), News, Children, and Violence (Haber, Çocuk ve Şiddet), and News in Message Design (İleti Tasarımında Haber). Afterward, I had the opportunity to experience three American universities, and these institutions contributed significantly to satisfying my intellectual hunger.

Robert E. Park and Clara Cahill Park, at Chicago Campus.
University of Chicago Photo Archive, apf1-06709.

“Though rarely acknowledged, one of the most pivotal figures in Chicago was Jane Addams, the first American woman to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. She led a massive charitable institution and was the primary source of support for the University of Chicago faculty most notably Robert Park in their urban studies.”

The main campus of the University of Chicago, where Robert E. Park
conducted his academic work (Hyde Park, Chicago).

The first was Florida International University (FIU). Compared to others, it had a modest library, yet it was where I first witnessed that libraries did not have to close at five o’clock; they operated 24/7. It felt like a place where you could simply live and never leave. Because I would stay in the library until midnight, my closest friend became the campus police officer.

I still remember sitting down and crying when I counted 360 references for my thesis at FIU. While back home we could find virtually nothing, here, even in a small-scale university library, I could access 360 sources directly relevant to my thesis. That was the moment I realized that the core of the matter had long been settled elsewhere.

Afterward, I went to Texas A&M University. When I joined the doctoral courses on “Digital Storytelling” I saw that two professors could co-teach a single course: one week it was taught by a professor from Computer Science, and the next week I taught it from a discourse-based perspective. It is not exactly easy to conduct a course like that in our system; here, professors would often clash over turf. However, there was no such friction there. I learned a great deal from them as well.

Then there was Brandeis University in Boston another institution that contributed immensely to my development. I supervised a few theses there, too. These experiences likely led me to view communication studies through an American perspective. Of course, years later, one sees one’s own academic trajectory crystallizing. Self-discovery is a process that takes years. Essentially, I found myself shifting from a Francophone perspective to an American one. This was not something I did intentionally; it was a natural byproduct of the fact that the data and information were originating from that source.

During this process, I realized that I was delivering course content heavily rooted in the American tradition of communication studies. Throughout this time, I developed 24 distinct courses. Among these, there are two that I regret most not having had the chance to fully implement: Media and Diplomacy and Communication and Space. You will notice that when I designed the Communication and Space course, I drew heavily on the Chicago School.

Jane Addams with children at Hull House, 1930s.

A.Ş: How did communication studies emerge, and why is the Chicago School significant in this context?

N.R: When you trace the foundations and history of communication studies, you inevitably encounter the Chicago School. They were working primarily on sociology, barely realizing that they were laying the groundwork for what would become communication studies. The key to understanding this transition lies with Robert Ezra Park. If you examine Robert E. Park’s biography, you see he possessed a robust background in journalism. The moment a journalist steps into the realm of sociology, everything shifts. It is recounted in one of the articles about him: while his doctoral students were resting, exhausted from their separate research assignments, Robert Park approached them and famously asked, “How can you sit there? How can you just sit when the city is in constant motion?” This reaction is essentially a journalistic reflex. City reporters are never meant to stay seated. Even in today’s age, you cannot simply sit at a desk and ask Google or ChatGPT, “What is going on out there?” You must be right in the city, the very place where events unfold.

Robert Park’s journalistic instinct stems from this. Park was also the first to view the city as a laboratory and to recognize that communication functions as a form of social control. Communication is, in essence, a system of control that operates so subtly you hardly notice it. The reason this discipline emerged in Chicago is that, at the turn of the last century, the city was a site of profound chaos.

Take Upton Sinclair, for instance a journalist who penned the novel The Jungle, which exposed the horrific working conditions in meatpacking plants. I remember putting the book down after only a few pages, thinking, ‘I cannot go on.’ You simply cannot bear the weight of such reality, yet this was the daily existence for people in Chicago at the time. As a journalist, Sinclair faced intense backlash for documenting these truths. Then there is John Steinbeck, whom we all know well. His Cannery Row similarly depicts the crushing poverty of that era. When you think of “America,” your mind immediately goes to Hollywood; you see no trace of destitution, only a magnificent way of life. You are conditioned to believe that is the reality, but these authors insisted that it was not. Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath does exactly the same; he was a ‘narrative journalist’ who laid bare the misery in California. Sinclair and Steinbeck were the pioneers who broke the silence on this poverty. However, that is where the media’s control mechanism kicks in. If you read Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley, you notice a staggering contrast. Suddenly, the narrative shifts from an America of misery to one of beauty, wealth, and five-star luxury. These stories were serialized in Travel magazine before being compiled into a book, and it is highly likely the editor told him, “Forget the misery; tell us about the beauty.” And just like that, America transforms into the sanitized version we know from Hollywood.

Thus, the Chicago School, together with Robert Park, positioned communication as a mechanism of social control. Though rarely acknowledged, one of the most pivotal figures in Chicago was Jane Addams, the first American woman to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. She led a massive charitable institution and was the primary source of support for the University of Chicago faculty most notably Robert Park in their urban studies. In fact, Jane Addams was the first to treat the city as a laboratory, even before the university did. She dedicated her life to helping street children, single parents, and the marginalized, striving to alleviate their suffering. Although her name appears in few textbooks, she is of profound significance. She meticulously mapped the city’s crime patterns, focusing on which neighborhoods reported the highest rates, the root causes of these offenses, and potential remedies. Addams made these issues visible by analyzing their causes and solutions, while Robert Park translated these into academic language and established them as an academic subject.

However, Park’s work does not aim to generate solutions perhaps because he does not view the core purpose of academia as problem-solving. When we begin to formulate our thesis regarding the Chicago School as the foundational element of communication sciences, two concepts emerge: should the field be approached through the lens of the “Sociology of Communication” or “Media Sociology”? These are not synonymous or interchangeable terms; the Sociology of Communication is a macro-concept, whereas Media Sociology is a micro-concept. When you examine the field through the lens of the Sociology of Communication, the sociological influence is far more pronounced. This is why I believe the Chicago School and the Sociology of Communication should be discussed in tandem. When viewed through the lens of Media Sociology, however, the landscape changes. This concept only gained prominence in the 1960s, as the full impact of television following the Second World War remained largely unrecognized until that decade. It was only after the late 1960s that this influence truly began to be felt. For instance, when the series Dallas began airing in Türkiye in the 1980s, we noticed that the streets were completely deserted during its broadcast. This was quite an anomaly for that era, especially in a city like Istanbul, which is bustling 24/7. Back then, people structured their entire schedules around Dallas. It aired on Thursdays, I believe, and we would deliberately avoid making plans for that evening. Dallas serves as one of the primary examples of how the media transformed everyday life. It demonstrated to those in power how everyday life could be controlled or ‘colonized,’ if you will by media narratives. Whether you label it as power or a control mechanism, the effect was the same.

“When I first started teaching, a student of mine once told me: ‘You are trying to teach us so many things, but first, teach us how to think.’ That was a profoundly important lesson for me. So, how do we teach that? Through critical theory.”

This brings us to Jürgen Habermas’s concept of “communicative action.” The idea of the ‘colonization of the lifeworld’ ultimately belongs to Habermas. If we set aside the Sociology of Communication for a moment and look at the public sphere through the lens of communicative action, we see that these two concepts are foundational and highly adaptable across every domain of communication. Years ago, at a conference, I suggested that the public sphere had essentially morphed into a private sphere. Other academics did not receive this well at the time. But look at us now are we not living in a “private sphere” on social media? Everything that was once intimate and private has become shareable, and this is done entirely with the individual’s own consent. Much like Chomsky’s concept of the ‘manufacture of consent,’ we are participating in this transformation of our own free will.

Foucault’s conceptualization of the “confession” reveals a specific power dynamic, and we have effectively embraced the power of social media, voluntarily confessing our lives to it. We wander about in a perpetual state of confession, and within this framework, our daily lives continue to be as Habermas would put it “colonized”  We are being colonized, quite literally. And we do this unconsciously, under the guise of mere entertainment. But has the experiential mechanism of communication ceased to function? Certainly not. The control and surveillance mechanisms identified in Chicago persist; they have simply mutated. In the past, this control was managed through censorship, propaganda, political communication, and traditional media editorial systems. None of those mechanisms are necessary now. Because we have already granted our consent; we have accepted this regime and allowed it to exploit our data and our very identities. Consequently, we are witnessing a fundamental transformation of Habermas’s concepts within a new, emerging paradigm.

Theodor W. Adorno, one of the leading thinkers of the Frankfurt School

Shoshana Zuboff, a retired professor from Harvard, conceptualizes this phenomenon as “surveillance capitalism.” Sherry Turkle, also from Harvard, coined the term “alone together.” They were among the first scholars to recognize how social life and technosociology were being reshaped by the rapid evolution of communication technology in the 1990s. It is no coincidence that these scholars emerged from Harvard. While few of Sherry Turkle’s books have been translated into Turkish, her seminal contribution to the field remains the concept of being “alone together.” Indeed, we are becoming increasingly alienated, transforming into atomized and isolated individuals. We do this willingly, wholeheartedly, under the illusion that we are enjoying ourselves. And yes, perhaps people actually are having fun.

I was watching a game show the other day. One of the contestants was an influencer who, by all accounts, seemed sensible and had a background in health sciences. When the host asked about her ultimate dream, the girl replied, “I want to be famous.” The host, who was quite sharp, responded: ‘My goal in life was simply to do what I love most. I believe that when you do what you love, you inevitably become well-known because you excel at it. Why did you reverse the process? These days, it seems everything starts from the opposite end. How do you become famous now? Through a couple of one- or two-minute clips you post on social media. The late journalist Mehmet Ali Birand used to refer to this as “the man on the street.” It is impossible to ignore how the very demographic captured by that phrase those whose sole ambition is to “become famous” has come to occupy the absolute epicenter of the system. By seizing power, they have turned the entire structure upside down, starting with democracy itself. It is plain to see how this reversal is pregnant with dangerous consequences.

For instance, early news research and media studies were characterized by an inherent elitism. This is where the ‘discourse elites’ stood out against those at the bottom of the discursive hierarchy. Even a superficial glance at traditional news sources revealed that discourse was exclusively manufactured by elites, namely political, economic, or bureaucratic figures who controlled the gates of information. However, if you look closely, starting in the 1990s, ‘third-page’ tabloid news gradually migrated to the core of the media ecosystem. The very sources Birand labeled as “people on the street” have now come to dominate the landscape via YouTube, the internet, and social media. In other words, as the former underclasses of discourse began to dictate the system, less and less space remained for the intellectual elites who were once the custodians of scientifi c and cultural knowledge. This is because the system now services a world engineered not to educate, but to entertain.

If we navigate life purely in the present, without a single thought for tomorrow, we are living under grave danger. If we look for the genesis of this entertainment-centric narrative, the answer lies in “self-help” literature. The foundational ethos of personal development is encapsulated in the phrase: “Now, today, here.” The very moment you anchor yourself solely in the “here and now,” you effectively wipe your memory clean. This tyranny of the present decimates the future while completely erasing the past. Do you retain any meaningful connection to the past? Not at all. I just shared my own life story with you. In that trajectory, there was a relentless pursuit of deeper knowledge and aspirations for the future; there was a perpetual desire to learn and to teach. None of this was bound to ‘today’ it was entirely projected onto the future. Nowadays, however, because an exorbitant amount of energy is invested in the present, our daily lives are colonized, and this tyranny of the immediate is eroding the fabric of society. If we navigate life purely in the present, without a single thought for tomorrow, we are living under grave danger. When we are told that everything in our lives is going swimmingly, that is precisely when we ought to be deeply suspicious. There is even a book titled Only the Paranoid Survive. In this contemporary landscape, we are practically forced to be paranoid. Something is quietly being stripped away from us, even as we are urged to invest more and more of ourselves. We need to pause and reflect. But because we have forgotten how to think in the midst of all this noise, we cannot even manage that.

“After all, Adorno is someone with very little zest for life, who takes pleasure in nothing. You cannot expect someone who uses critical theory as ‘I will criticize everything, I will look at everything from a negative perspective’ to create music that inspires enthusiasm. He uses music solely for his elitism.”

When I first started teaching, a student of mine once told me: ‘You are trying to teach us so many things, but first, teach us how to think.’ That was a profoundly important lesson for me. So, how do we teach that? Through critical theory. And critical theory arrives with the entire corpus of the Frankfurt School. The foundational figure of this thought is Theodor W. Adorno. He is, without a doubt, the toughest nut to crack in the entire field. I recently came across a quote about him that I absolutely loved: ‘The greatest favor Adorno did was to disabuse readers of the notion that they are always smarter than the author.’ That is classic Adorno. In other words, he is implying, ‘You cannot compete with me neither in knowledge, nor intelligence, nor in your worldview.’ There is this distinct aura about Adorno that says, ‘I am brilliant, I am erudite, I am elite, and I don’t really care to accommodate you.’ Ultimately, he is saying you have a great deal to learn from him but only if you possess the patience to endure the first hundred pages, much like navigating an Umberto Eco novel.

(SPOT) So, how do we teach that? Through critical theory. And critical theory arrives with the entire corpus of the Frankfurt School. The foundational figure of this thought is Theodor W. Adorno. For example, Max Weber’s three-and-a-half to four-month journey to America fundamentally transformed sociology. It shifted the entire paradigm of European sociology and demonstrated just how pivotal religion is as a societal element. Yet, this American influence is stubbornly downplayed by the Frankfurt School, particularly by Adorno. It was only toward the end of his life, in a 30-page essay, that he finally conceded America’s profound impact. Without America, after all, the Frankfurt School would not have survived it saved their lives, quite literally. When Adorno returned to Germany, the Americans were understandably furious, thinking: ‘We rescued you and your colleagues, and without a shred of gratitude, you tore us to shreds by labeling us a “culture industry.”’ Had Adorno not witnessed that reality firsthand, he could never have conceptualized the ‘culture industry.’

Foucault, in his work on the ‘intellectual gaze,’ posits that true intellectual vision is only possible when one examines their own world from the outside. By experiencing an alien environment, you gain the rare vantage point needed to look back at your own society objectively. As long as you remain submerged within it, you are blind to its contours; you cannot map its coordinates. But once you step outside, the mind is forced into a comparative state, which is precisely what catalyzes dialectical thought. Consequently, the thinkers of the Frankfurt School owe the evolution of their paradigm to their exile in New York and, subsequently, California, where during their stay, they deliberately insulated themselves within a sort of intellectual ghetto.

(SPOT) By experiencing an alien environment, you gain the rare vantage point needed to look back at your own society objectively. As long as you remain submerged within it, you are blind to its contours; you cannot map its coordinates. But once you step outside, the mind is forced into a comparative state, which is precisely what catalyzes dialectical thought. Perhaps this is also fundamentally linked to Jewish education. Ultimately, Hebrew contains no vowels; it consists entirely of consonants, and a text cannot resonate without someone to vocalize it. The individual who provides that vocalization eventually emerges as the leader of the community. Through their erudition, their ability to decipher the text, and their capacity to narrate it, a structure reminiscent of shamanism takes shape; they regard their language as their true homeland. Language transforms into a sanctuary. When Adorno returned to Germany, he gave an interview. When asked, ‘Why did you return to Germany?’ he famously replied, ‘I did not return to Germany; I returned to the German language.’ In that single sentence, you can feel the immense suffering he endured over those eleven years of exile. He returned to his language because Adorno was a thinker who wrote from the station of the ink.

Max Horkheimer acted as his father figure. He rarely commands the spotlight, yet it is fair to say that without Horkheimer, Adorno could never have truly become Adorno. The tight-knit enclave they established among themselves in California kept them anchored and ensured their collective survival, driven by a mutual dependence that was both intellectual and material. Furthermore, there is nothing more notoriously difficult in academia than co-authoring a book; yet, during the creation of Dialectic of Enlightenment, it is evident that both thinkers possessed such a symphonic alignment of thought that they could virtually complete each other’s sentences. There was absolute equilibrium between them. Operating and writing in a second language is a harrowing endeavor. No matter how brilliant you are, it takes at least four to five years for the cognitive dominance of your native tongue to recede, and Adorno actively resisted that erosion. German was the very matrix that generated the intellectual Adorno. Consequently, he does not look favorably upon English, which he regards as secondary. Nor does he look favorably upon the place. Sometimes his friends criticize him: “Did you see this light in the sky in Germany? Why are you pushing American life so far away?” He replies, “There’s a lack of landscape.” That’s what surprises me. How can there be a lack of landscape in America? What kind of landscape could he possibly have in mind? He has the landscape of German cities in his head. The first thing you notice when you first go to America is the excess of light. The country has a completely different kind of light. His friends even get annoyed with him, saying, ‘You didn’t see this kind of light in Germany.’ But California’s scenery was supposedly insufficient… For instance, if you look at Jean Baudrillard’s America, it’s a sociologist’s America through and through. Adorno’s America, however, is just exile for him. Yet that exile saved your life; it was through that popularity there that you became ‘Adorno.’ Had he stayed in his own country, he would likely have been a failed musician or musicologist. The things he attempted to write about music were not well received anyway. After all, Adorno is someone with very little zest for life, who takes pleasure in nothing. You cannot expect someone who uses critical theory as ‘I will criticize everything, I will look at everything from a negative perspective’ to create music that inspires enthusiasm. He uses music solely for his elitism.

Of course, they all have that rigorous German education in their backgrounds. They owe their perspectives, their critical faculties, and their entire way of thinking to German discipline. In fact, Communication Studies also owes a great deal to German roots. We don’t place much importance on this here, but when you look at it, that academic and cultural cultivation whether from a place of exile or somewhere you went to learn creates very significant differences in you.

Deniz Benzer: You mentioned that Adorno’s view of America was negative. When we look at Adorno and Horkheimer’s Dialectic of Enlightenment, we see that they also criticize Germany at one point. What are your thoughts on that work?

N.R: Unhappiness isn’t something that leaves Adorno anyway; wherever you go, you carry it with you. The Dialectic of Enlightenment is a first-year undergraduate study. After that, it should lead you to Negative Dialectics. Don’t you need a German education to rethink the Enlightenment? Otherwise, you can’t really imagine an American thinking about the Enlightenment and examining it within that framework. That’s why that German education or perhaps that continental European education is necessary. After all, by the age of twenty, the entire body of macro-knowledge has already formed in these people. After that, it moves toward choosing a direction and producing results. Of course, we must not forget that there is also the impact of the trauma seriously experienced there. The transformation of dialectics into the negative in fact, these two volumes need to be taken together. You can’t just read The Dialectic of Enlightenment and stop there. You have to complete it with Negative Dialectics. Because one was written in America, while the other was written in German upon his return. It’s impossible to create an Adorno framework without seeing both of those. But you can criticize it from this angle: there is discourse, but no action. All of his students criticize him this way. Don’t get mad at Adorno, there’s nothing to be done. It’s clear that we still learn a great deal from every text, every sentence of his…

Not everyone has to be a man of action. Academics have their own personalities, too. Some thinkers have been both men of discourse and men of action. I am also interested in the personalities of thinkers, and from what I can see, an activist character would never have emerged from Adorno. I wish everyone could be like that, but they don’t have to be. Take Herbert Marcuse, for example he’s one of them and a man of action. No one ever told him, “You’re still involved in this stuff even in your 70s.” These people are also the intellectual fathers of the ’68 generation.

The students are angry with Adorno for that reason, too: “We’re here in the squares because of you, with your ideas, but you still aren’t coming out.” Adorno doesn’t feel forced to do this. You don’t have to go out into the square. Learn, think, speak; continue your action in another way. You don’t have to be in the streets. But no one ever told Marcuse, at his advanced age, to “wander around the squares.” It’s entirely a matter of character. We all have a character, an inner drive. Something is pulling you toward it. That driving force is an innate character. If you have siblings, you know that no sibling follows another. They’re all different. There’s a formula from above. I believe in it. We’re all born with that formula, and we strive to fill it out. So don’t be angry with Adorno. He was born that way. There’s nothing to be done.

From Chicago to Frankfurt: The History of Communication Studies yazısı ilk önce Context Dergi üzerinde ortaya çıktı.