Ahmet Tanpinar - A Mind at Peace

“Fine, but what’s the relationship between this and the concept of humanity or spiritual man that you just mentioned? You’re talking about nothing more than transforming life’s material means.”

“People are also a material part of life. Haven’t you read Charles Péguy? What a turn of phrase. Searing. Poverty makes man more decent and noble. But destitution makes him primitive and impoverished of soul. It destroys the human in humanity. Human honor is only possible with a given level of welfare. A level of welfare that enables employment! I’m not referring to the welfare along the Thames or to American enterprise, of course. My point is that a society that has reached the meager welfare we’ve been able to foster is certain to resort to the very gods that it appears to have cast aside. Social life discovers the values around which it orbits, and a guiding principle anticipates a community that has turned to face contentment. In place of certain haphazard individual efforts, the collective fosters a sense of responsibility.”

As he spoke, his expression changed. Mümtaz was pleased that they were conversing like old times.

“One of our poets claims that it would have been great had Sultan Selim III learned a little political history in place of studying geometry. We might add that it would have been great had the men of the Tanzimat known something of political economy. Not to mention that there was quite an interest in learning about it. But by whom? Sultan Abdülhamit learned from Münif Pasha. It’s unclear what the latter knew, and the former was an unfortunate man embalmed in his own paranoia, a sultan mad for power who incarcerated himself in a palace for thirty years until 1908. He was Turkey’s public enemy number one. You know those unfortunates sentenced to a hundred and one years. He was one of them! What came afterward is well known. Suddenly we pass on to the dictates of historical events. We remained under such influences until the national victory in the early twenties.”

Orhan stretched lethargically. The sunshine was quite exquisite and comforting!

“Okay then, won’t all of this come about on its own over time? Or rather, aren’t these developments that will happen in time?”

“Impossible, because time changes according to context. The time of the growing child is different than that of the ill. We’re outside universal time. What I mean to say is that we must change our pace of time. We must catch up to the world. My perspective promotes our participation and progress as part of the procession even if we’re at the end of the line, so that from one particular path we might reach the promenade. Time is, doubtless, a factor, but one that’s different for the world and different for nations that have joined in the global workforce, and completely different for us in our present-day circumstances. If we just leave it alone, it won’t serve our interests but will pull everything down into the depths, as with others in our predicament. Instead of giving us wings, it’ll shackle our feet. No, as Shakespeare said, we have to sprint toward time. We have to grapple with it. We must persevere through our willpower. First we must acknowledge our circumstances. Then we must prioritize our tasks. Slowly and surely we must emerge into the global market. We must open our own markets to our own production. We must remake the family, houses, cities, and the village. . As a consequence, we shall also remake humanity. Till now we haven’t been able to focus on the human factor in a constructive way; rather, we’ve pursued numerous social and cultural reforms. We’ve been trying to achieve the freedom of establishing political opposition within our society. From this necessity we now need to awaken to greater and more essential challenges. One can’t just keep on leveling the field. We need to erect an edifice on that field. What will this edifice be? Who knows the capacity of the new men and women of Turkey? We only know one thing: the necessity of relying on established roots. If we fail to do so, we won’t be able to move beyond a state of duplicity. Treaties and agreements are always risky. Tomorrow we might have to pay for the ease that they provide today through the obstacles they cause. We must be very explicit.”

Nuri was unable to restrain himself, “What do you mean by ‘explicit’? The situation strikes me as being so baffling that — ”

“On one hand we’re for better or worse attempting to appropriate a certain technique, to become people of a contemporary mind-set. As we adopt that mentality, by dint of circumstance, we have to discard traditional values. We’re exchanging models of social relations. On the other hand we don’t want to forget the past! What role does this past play within our present-day realities? Apparently, it’s only reminiscence or a nostalgia of sorts for us. . It might ornament our lives! But what other constructive value could it possibly have?”

By ‘explicit,’ what do I mean? he thought. Then he raised his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Besides, if I knew what should be done, I wouldn’t be here talking to you, my friend. I’d go down to the heart of the city and gather everyone around me. I’d shout like Yunus Emre, ‘I’ve come bearing your reality for you.’ This isn’t a matter that can be resolved by the first person who contemplates it. But, here as well, we can find a few things that need immediate attention. First, bring everybody together. So be it if the standard of living among them varies, it’s enough that they feel the urge for the same New Life. . Suffice it that one group isn’t the mangled remnant of traditional culture and the other newly settled tenants of the modern world. We need a synthesis of both.

“Second, we need to establish a new relationship to our past. The former is relatively easy, we can achieve it by more or less transforming material conditions. But the latter can only be achieved through cooperation between generations.

“If we neglect the past, it’ll jut into us like a foreign object throughout our lives. Like it or not we have to make it part of the grand synthesis. It’s the source from which we must emerge. We need this notion of continuity even if it’s an illusion. Not to mention that we weren’t born just yesterday. The past constitutes our starkest reality. Now then, onto which of these roots do we make our graft? The folk and folk life are at times a treasure trove, at times a mirage. From a distance it appears like a limitless expanse. But on closer scrutiny, you’re limited to five or ten motifs and modes; or you’ll enter straightaway into fixed life forms. As for Ottoman classical or elite culture, we’ve broken free of that in many respects… and anyway, the civilization to which it was bound has been destroyed.”

Mümtaz said, “This is precisely what I see as the impasse; because, as you’ve said, the past has no legs upon which to stand. Today in Turkey we wouldn’t be able to name five books that consecutive generations read together. Except in rare instances, those who take any pleasure in older authors are increasingly fewer in number. We’re seemingly the last link. Soon poets like Nedim or Nef’î, or even traditional music, which is ever so appealing to us, will join a category of things from which we’ve been estranged!”

“There are obstacles. But it’s not an impasse. We’re currently living through reactionary times. We despise ourselves. Our heads are full of comparisons and contrasts: We don’t appreciate Dede because he’s no Wagner; Yunus Emre, because we haven’t been able to cast him as a Verlaine; or Bâkî, because he can’t be a Goethe or a Gide. Despite being the most well-appointed country nestled amid the opulence of immeasurable Asia, we’re living naked and exposed. Geography, culture, and all the rest expect a new synthesis from us, and we’re not even aware of our historic mission. Instead, we’re trying to relive the experiences of other countries.