Ahmet Tanpinar - A Mind at Peace

“How, through murder?” İhsan’s mood had soured. Brooding, as if at the edge of an abyss, he recoiled within himself, staring at Mümtaz. Nuran went to Mümtaz and placed a hand on his shoulder: as in an altercation, everybody stood by his most trusted and beloved companion. Only Selim was alone: short of height, his arms crossed, observing the conversation up front with an expression of immense entertainment. Or rather, he resembled an urchin at a neighborhood cockfight.

“There’s no acknowledgment of murder.”

Macide: “Are you crazy, Suad? Why are you discussing such things? Take pity on yourself.” And startled by the word “crazy,” which hadn’t been uttered in her presence for years but had now passed her own lips, she withdrew behind İhsan, her body atremble.

“Not at all, why should I be crazy? I’m explaining the plot of a story. There’s no murder in it, but there is the matter of salvation. The removal of a single intervening obstacle. There’s rejuvenation. Indeed, he rediscovers the world. He’s given himself a period of seven days. For seven days he conceals the crime. For seven days, as if resurrected, he lives among others blithely and empathetically in halos of golden radiance. Just like a god, for seven days… and on the evening of the seventh day, in a state of peaceful reconciliation with nature and life, in a mi’raj of human fate, he hangs himself.” İhsan: “Impossible. How can you account for such a transformation in character? No sense of vengeance, no claim of justice gives an individual the right to kill another. But suppose he assumes this right and murders anyway. How did the transformation come about? The path to self-realization doesn’t pass through murder. . The blood of mankind is taboo. It diminishes and oppresses humanity. Even in the case of social justice, those who mediate through murder are always anathema. The executioner is always a pariah.”

“Within the context of our own morality, yes, but by transcending it. .”

“Morality can not be transcended.”

“Why not for somebody living beyond good and evil? You’re talking about accountability, but my protagonist has no intention to be accountable. He wants liberty. When he attains that he becomes a demigod.”

“No one becomes free by spilling blood. . Blood-stained freedom isn’t freedom, it’s something besmirched and tainted. Not to mention that a person can’t be divine. Man is humane. And this is a station attained through much toil.”

“Do me the favor of defining freedom.”

Suad stared at İhsan for a minute. İhsan was on the verge of responding, but Macide, genuinely anxious, interrupted: “İhsan, you don’t suppose that he plans on killing Afife?” İhsan calmed his wife with a chuckle: “Don’t be childish, good heavens!” He added slowly, “No, don’t be afraid, he wants to vent. . He got a little frustrated, that’s all.” Then he turned back to Suad, awaiting an answer: “I can. It’s the grace and prosperity we wish for others.”

“But what about yourself, what happens to the wisher?”

“By desiring grace for others, I, too, become free before my urges and appetites — ”

“That’s nothing but another form of slavery… each of us exists independently.”

“In one respect, yes, if I don’t sincerely desire the well-being of others. . but think of it as a joint venture, then it’s total freedom. As soon as you say, ‘Each of us exists independently,’ you’ve forsaken everything. Existence is whole and we’re its constituent parts! If the contrary were true, the world would degenerate. Yes, existence is whole, and we’re its transient elements. We might only achieve satisfaction and peace through this mind-set.” Then he smiled. “I’ve made a lot of concessions to you, Suad. . Understand what I’m trying to say; perhaps we could even agree at some fundamental level. Man, one by one, does not become divine; however, if mankind fashioned an ethics suitable to its circumstance, it might become divine! That is to say, it could assume grand qualities.”

Exhausted, Suad withdrew to a corner. He clung tightly to his rakı . Mümtaz simply stared at him. We’re having a bizarre night. . He wasn’t angry with Suad as before. Clearly, Suad was afflicted. But he couldn’t fully empathize with him, either. An aspect of Suad’s character rejected all feelings of pity. One could rather admire or despise Suad, but he couldn’t be pitied. His disquiet closed the human heart to him. Even now, in the parlor under electric lights, he was alienated from each person and from the entire group, ostracized, an anomaly.

“No, this isn’t the issue… You’re conceiving the matter backward. I’m referring to an idiosyncrasy. I’m not referring to a person born into poverty, but to one born into wealth. You’re attempting to apply a general system of order to him. He’s above that. Don’t forget how I started all this. I described him as someone who’s already possessed of all virtue.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I’ll tell you: What others strive to achieve, he already possesses inherently.”

“Among these virtues can we name duty and responsibility?”

Nuran closed her eyes. I wonder what Fatma’s doing now?

“No, not those. He’s completely independent with respect to his surroundings, but he’s generous.”

İhsan asked slowly, “Don’t you now realize where you’ve gone wrong?”

“No, I don’t. . but what difference does it make? Mümtaz should still pen this story.”

İhsan continued: “You’re absolving people of responsibilities to impose certain preconceived and innate virtues. But being human involves a sense of responsibility. All the rest contributes to the wealth of one’s character. In fact, in your account, your protagonist, the demigod that you’ve conceived, undergoes a transformation enabling him to commit a crime as a result of marriage, a lapse of the imagination, or maybe unprovoked hatred. Nevertheless, a sense of responsibility — ”

“The sense of responsibility changes as well. It expands into action. First he’ll destroy all vestiges of morality through a transvaluation of values.”

“He might destroy them, but then he’ll lose his bearings! Because humanity begins from a sense of responsibility.”

Suad shook his head. “Where does that lead?”

“I’ll tell you: He won’t be at peace with others and in society as you suppose. Spilled blood will intervene. To maintain the peace, we each have a reflection of the world and its inhabitants, a fixed and defined persona. Murder, or even the slightest injustice, distorts this reflection. We’d either end up denying the world or the world would banish us!”

“Doesn’t suffering distort this persona?”

İhsan answered without hesitation: “On the contrary, it’s through suffering that one makes peace with humanity. It’s when I’m in anguish that I better understand others. Warm empathy mediates between me and society… That’s when I grasp my sense of responsibility. Our daily bread is suffering. He who avoids pain strikes humanity in its Achilles heel, the greatest betrayal is to shirk suffering. Can the fate of humanity be changed in a single stroke? Even if you do away with misery, if you provide freedom and liberty for all, you still have death, illness, lack of opportunity, and guilt. Fleeing in the face of suffering amounts to destroying the fortress from within. As for taking refuge in death, that’s horrific. That’s simply taking shelter in bestial irresponsibility.”

İhsan paused. He suffered as much as or more than Suad. Perspiration covered his face. He continued, slowly: “Mankind is the prisoner of fate. When confronted by it, humanity has no recourse but faith and, in particular, suffering.”