Ahmet Tanpinar - The Time Regulation Institute

Halit Bey pulled a little notebook from his pocket, flipped it open, and, referring to his notes, explained his ideas. The institute had been established to study social behavior using avant-garde methods, he explained, and so it was only natural for an institute of this scope to require fixed personnel, among other things.

“We have a director and an assistant director. Additionally, we’ll require a publishing division, an administrative head, an office supplies manager, and a head of office operations. For now, these positions will make up our Absolute Staff.”

The Absolute Staff was to be supported by a technical team structured to reflect the workings of a clock; it would regulate itself in much the same way clocks regulated our everyday lives: the Minute Hand, Pin, and Spring Departments would complete the first division, while the second division would include Social Coordination and Labor Statistics.

“All of these teams will be led by highly qualified specialists. Hayri Bey will be in charge of Labor Statistics. And I will be managing the Social Coordination group myself. In fact this is where we believe our main revenues will come from. In this way we can ensure that the director’s and assistant director’s salaries will not exceed the salary scale as set by law. Naturally an institute of this scale would never fit into this building. It would be best if we had a new building that was purpose-built.”

“We’ve already made a note of that, Halit Bey. But don’t you think we have one department head too many? I mean, along with the staff you’ve mentioned — as you say, the Absolute Staff.”

“That’s right, sir. Each department will have its own team working under it. A kind of organizational or organic skeleton.”

“I had no idea. How clever of you to come up with this idea of a permanent staff. It’s just that an administrative head seems unnecessary. In fact even a head of office operations seems a bit much.”

For some time Halit Ayarcı insisted on these two positions, explaining that the work would be too taxing otherwise. But finally he sacrificed the administrative head, and once he had made this concession, the principle of an Absolute Staff was officially accepted.

It was impossible to be unmoved by the mayor’s sensitivity to all the issues. There was not a single sacrifice he wouldn’t make for the smooth operation of our institute, while he was clearly doing his best to slim down the budget. At one point he asked for my opinion on a matter. Halit Ayarcı jumped in on my behalf.

“Hayri Bey is always ready to sacrifice himself for the nation and for public service.”

By now I had a grasp on how all this worked and so I finished his thought:

“In other words I am ready to tackle the job.”

My enthusiasm was met with effusive thanks from the mayor. Whereupon Halit Ayarcı added:

“Ah, but if not for you, never in the world would I have charged myself with such a lofty endeavor.”

And so, after being forged in a man’s imagination piece by piece, I had become the axis around which this great organization revolved. Surely this was what our forebears knew as valor and esteem — such words allowed for matters to be seen in the most favorable light. Ah, I thought, if only it were possible, if only I could read the entire history of the world.

When it became clear that we were all more or less agreed, the mayor expressed his final reservations.

“Where will you find so many specialists?”

“That’s the easy part. Hayri Bey and I will see to that. As a matter of fact, Hayri Bey has an extremely effective plan for this. We shall train our own personnel. In this Hayri Bey is absolutely right. In making this effort, we shall ensure that they are much more reliable in their work.”

But now I knew what to say: I’d had plenty of time to practice thinking like Halit Bey when hunting flies in the office.

“Perhaps foreign specialists could be engaged?”

Halit Ayarcı rejected this idea outright.

“This enterprise on which we have embarked is most delicate. Our dirty laundry will be exposed for all to see. Oh no, we can’t have foreigners here. They’d ruin the whole exercise — make a mess of it. They simply wouldn’t understand.”

The mayor seemed both pleased and taken aback.

“Frankly, I don’t want foreigners either. One, it’s difficult just to make yourself understood; and, two, their finding everything so strange is simply unbearable. They simply cannot adapt, not even to the most natural situations.”

Halit Bey didn’t even bother to listen. It was his way or the highway.

“We’ve no need for foreigners. This isn’t the kind of work they would understand. We shall train our own specialists from our own people.”

He spoke with such decisiveness, showing no regard for what the mayor or anyone else might think. What if the mayor wanted but a few foreign specialists to set an example? Had I been in his shoes, I would have acted more cautiously; I would have given due consideration to the mayor’s ideas. And I’d have continued to mull them over afterward. Whenever I am engaged in official proceedings, I acquire a tired and bedraggled look and become evasive, allowing my interlocutor his full say on the matter and deciding for myself later on, because in such situations the actual decision isn’t what really matters but, rather, how people shape it. Man is not a noble thing for naught.

“I’m of the same mind. But will the public place sufficient trust in us? We’ve become so dependent on foreign specialization that—”

“And just for that very reason we shall not include them. What have we become? Must we learn everything from them? Will the young boys of our country ever attain positions of any real import? Halit Bey’s system has promised us so much. We shall see this to the very end. And the public will soon see that we do.”

The mayor clapped his hands and cried:

“Now, here’s where I disagree. For I am no longer of an age when I can relish things that make life any more difficult than it need be.”

Ever magnanimous and realistic, Halit Bey chose not to take the comment personally.

“If only we could be sure of their making a real difference,” the mayor continued, “we might just be willing to make sacrifices…”

Halit Ayarcı suddenly became stern:

“No, sir. Our own people must train our personnel. Did we march all the way to the gates of Vienna with foreign specialists? In those days everyone was a specialist, because we had faith in ourselves.”

Ah, such lofty language, such irrefutable analogies! Whatever could the mayor say in the face of Süleyman the Magnificent and his army of who knows how many hundreds of thousands, not to mention their armor, their cannons, their guns and spears? His only hope was a proud retreat.

“Yes, the very heart of the matter.”

“In fact we have many people. Hayri Bey has just completed the list.”

The mayor still seemed to have his hesitations.

“It’s just that, as we all know, in these kinds of affairs… To find such a diverse staff so suddenly… I mean, people will gossip and soon they’ll claim favoritism.”

Halit Bey dismissed his fears with a simple wave of his hand:

“We’ve already thought of that. Unknown entities and applicants without proper references shall be refused admittance to the institute. In this respect our principles are quite sound. Half our staff will be made up of people from our own families and people we know personally. And the other half will come to us on the recommendation of esteemed individuals in whom we have complete trust. Thus we will nip all gossip in the bud. Each and every employee will enjoy a public guarantee.”

The mayor seemed quite pleased with all this.