The following piece was Perihan Mağden's column in yesterday's Radikal. I loved it so much it actually brought tears to my eyes.

Zaman izafi midir?

Fizik dersinde berbattım. En arkada oturup başka şeylerle vakti ‘öldürmeye’ çalışırdım. Öyle zor geçerdi ki fizik dersinde zaman. Açıp açık açık kitabını da okuyamazsın. Yani dersi dinler havasını yaratarak, ne yapılabilirse, öyle geçirmeye çabalamak zamanı... Şimdi bile aşırı sıkıntıyla geçirdiğim zamanları ‘fizik dersi gibi’ diye tasvir ederim.

Oysa gerçekten, samimi olarak, fizikten anlayabilen bir kafam olsun isterdim. O formüller, akselerasyon mesela: Hem gerçekte olagelen şeyler, hem de onca soyutlanarak bir formül halinde -yani bir hap gibi- sana sunuluyorlar. Taş düşüyor işte, işte eğim var, taşın hızı var, hepsini simgeleyen bir işaret var. Sen de yapacaksın hesabını, ama ne önemi var? Gerçi böyle felsefi nedenlerle direnmiyordum fiziğe. İşin içinden çıkamıyordum. Gerçek anlamda kafam basmıyordu işte. Einstein’ın o muhteşem, enerji eşittir formülü. Sonra nasıl Freud sayesinde bilinçaltı ve bilinçdışı olduğunu biliyorsak, Einstein sayesinde zamanın izafi olduğunu biliyoruz.

Zamanın izafi olduğu zamanlar vardı. Kapı çalınırdı. Bir arkadaş sana gelirdi. Sonra bir 24, 36 saat kayıp giderdi. Muhtelif yerlerde yenilir, sokaklarda yürünür, videoda filmler izlenir ve kimseye hiçbir şeyin hesabı verilmezdi. Öle bir durum yoktu. Hesap vermeyi gerektiren bir durum yani. Bir arkadaşın arka odasına kapanılıp üç gün hiç çıkmadan -tabii yemek, içmek ve tuvalet dışında- Shibumi okunabilirdi, diyelim. O zamanlar, yani gençken, zaman izafiydi.

Zaman, içine girilip gönlünce yüzülen bir okyanustu. Rüya görmeye vakit vardı örneğin. Bol bol rüya görülür, onlar hatırlanır, anlatılırdı. Oysa dilediğinizce uyuma hakkı elinizden alındığında rüya da göremez, daha doğrusu gördüğünüz rüyaları hatırlayamazsınız. Zaman, bir hapishane çizelgesine dönüşür. Her saat halletmeniz gereken kalemler, bunlardan kaytarmaya cüret edecekseniz, kendi kendinize vermeniz gereken hesaplar vardır: Dolusunuzdur. Da neyle? Bir sürü hamaliye saçmalıkla. Her gün, listelerle sona erer. Her gün, atlamanız gereken bir sürü engelle donanmış bir koşudur. Siz de iyi eğitilmiş ve yarışmak dışında hiçbir şeye hakkı olmadığını iliklerine kadar hisseden bir yarış atı.

Mekanik bir at üstelik. Her türlü haz duygusundan tasarlanırken muaf tutulmuş. Bazen yangından mal kaçırır gibi, biraz zaman araklamaya kalkarsınız işten güçten. Ne acıklı bir çaba! Bunu faiziyle ödemeniz gerektiğini bilmek, o soluk soluğalık ‘araklanan’ zamanı baştan lekeler. Mükemmel ve el değmemiş bir zaman dilimi, sizin için artık mümkün değildir.

Penang’ta yine üç gün bir ‘otelin’ yatakhanesinde yalnızca aşağıdaki lokantaya inmelerinizle bölünen Dostoyevski okuduğunuz günleri hatırlarsınız. Nerdeyse bir sıla hasretiyle. Bir sürgün duygusuyla. Bir daha böyle günlerin, kapınıza umulmadık bir hediye gibi bırakılmayacağını eşekler gibi bilerek. Eşekler gibi mahzun ve derisi kalın. Gerçek ve derin, ipin ucu koyverilmiş, bedbahtlıklara bile artık zamanınız yoktur. Hiç yoktur.

Karı hissedemezsiniz. Yağmuru. Rüzgârı. Bir nevi izolasyon malzemesiyle tecrit edilmiştir ruhunuz ve bedeniniz. Doğayla ilişkiniz, hayatın doğallığıyla ilişkiniz kopmuş gitmiştir. Zavallı bir memursunuzdur. Artık herkes, bu hayatların her sabah kartını deldirmesi gereken, bitap memurlarıdır. Tüm arkadaşlarınız da sizin gibi enselenmişlerdir. Tesisat işleri, elektrik makbuzu, perdelerin yıkanması, yapılması gereken telefon konuşmaları, ödenmesi gereken borçlardan ibaretsinizdir.

Bazen arkadaşınızla karşılıklı şikâyet ve ağlaşmayla bir yarım saat geçirirsiniz. Yan yana oturup ‘Yüzbaşı Volkan’, ‘Dr. No’ okuduğunuz günlerin zavallı siluetleri olarak. Kavga bile edemezsiniz artık. Şiddetli kavgalar ve ağlamalar çoook gerilerdedir. Vızırdarsınız, cızırdarsınız, laf sokuşturursunuz. Siz artık siz değilsinizdir. Yeni bir insan da değilsinizdir. Zaruretleri yerine getirmekle mükellef bir kılıf. İçiniz boştur. Eskiden kalbin durduğu yerde kırık, imitasyon bir şeyler durur. ‘Şeyler’dir onlar. Gerçek hiçbir şey yoktur artık zira. Olamaz da.

Since the financial markets started recovering already (not by themselves, of course, only when provided by the right incentives), I decided to go back to what I wanted to write about in the first place.

My perfectly flawed country

The story between our prime minister Erdoğan and media tycoon Aydın Doğan has several veins.

Chapter 1 - Government tainted by corruption scandal
A Germany-based Turkish charity (Deniz Feneri) collects money from devout Muslim Turks in Germany, only to send it to affiliated Turkish businesses, such as Kanal 7, a pro-government TV channel. German investigators claim that Turkish authorities applied political pressure for the release of those detained in Germany, and the prime minister's office received some funds from the charity to help tsunami victims. Meanwhile, one of the guys who worked as a "courier" between Germany and Turkey is appointed as the chairman of the Radio Television Supreme Council (RTUK).

Chapter 2 - Freedom of media?
The coverage of the scandal features prominently in Doğan newspapers, which have been critical of the government for a while. In a furious (and public) address at a party meeting, Erdoğan claims that Doğan is seeking revenge because the government didn't agree to the favours he requested for his other businesses. These include the changing of a development license for the land where the Hilton Hotel stands in Istanbul, and an overland broadcasting license for CNN Turk from RTUK. More allegations appear on pro-government newspapers about allegedly illegal practices of Doğan Group. Doğan Group shares fall in the stock market.

Chapter 3 - Political risk: Independence and impartiality of regulatory agencies
Doğan responds that he has not requested anything illegal, he is just seeking his legal rights as a citizen and business man (which is a fair point, I must say.) He goes on to claim that the Energy Markets Regulatory Agency (EPDK) has been denying his oil distribution business Petrol Ofisi a license for the construction of an oil refinery in Ceyhan. He says that Erdoğan told him Çalık Holding would remain the sole license-holder in the port city. Çalık is also building the oil pipeline from Ünye to Ceyhan in a consortium with Italian Eni.

EPDK claims the site proposed by Petrol Ofisi for the refinery belongs to another company, which wants to build a power utility on the same site.

Chapter 4 - Freedom of media?
Çalık Holding, run by Erdoğan's son-in-law, was the sole bidder for our second largest media group, Sabah-ATV. State banks provided financing for the acquisition, and a Qatari investment fund chipped in by buying a 25% stake (the largest interest a foreign entity can hold in a Turkish media company). There were rumors that this limitation (if nothing else!) deterred other bidders, including foreign private equity groups and media companies, from bidding for Sabah-ATV. The government is now planning to lift this rule to comply with EU legislation. Then Çalık could sell Sabah-ATV to one of the foreign suitors for a decent profit.

***
I admire the intricacy of the story, and I think we can recognize several themes here. First of all, the story casts doubt over the independence and impartiality of regulatory agencies, municipalities and state banks. These institutions are clearly open to political influence. The destiny of a business is determined by its relationship to power circles, not its economic efficiency or integrity.

Once we identify this structural flaw as the root problem, it is easy to see why media groups might want to leverage their influence over public opinion to receive favours from the government, or how the government might be able to use these licenses as a stick to punish a media group for its unfavourable coverage. People do things when they are able to.

This is a high price to pay. Journalists play a very important role in the healthy functioning of a democracy. Their job is to raise awareness by providing correct, comprehensive and balanced information and analysis. People can make sound choices and hold decision makers accountable only when they have sufficient information. The independence and freedom of media groups is therefore very important, and media is not just an ordinary economic sector. However, in practical terms, I don't know how we could oblige media tycoons to shed their other business interests in countries where we cannot disentangle politics from business. This would be a second-best solution aimed at curing the symptom of the problem, not the problem itself.

Finally - a word on journalism ethics. Some of the journalists and columnists in Turkey suck. My question is, do these journalists genuinely believe in what they write, or have they lost all respect for themselves, their audience and their job - so that they don't care anymore? Are they aware that they suck?

A costly experiment

I am fascinated by what's happening to Lehman Brothers, Merrill Lynch and AIG. It's like the Titanic sinking. It's like a beautiful facade collapsing because its basis is rotten. It's people taking risks without understanding the fundamentals of the products they were buying into. A machine that should be working smoothly because it is all based on logic and maths - but then, maybe not, because at the end of the day, it was people calling the shots, people looking over important details. Now it is technocrats who have to make really tough choices to minimize the costs. This is like an experiment with real people and real consequances.

I will write more about it soon.

Painting book

I've been thinking about how we give people and events meaning - and professionalism. Yesterday this image came to me - the image of a painting book. I figured we turn a new page every single day. People, events, information appear before us. Then we start painting them according to their importance to us, and some of them don't even catch our eye.

Some people or events make consecutive appearances, they happen or we let them (or make them) happen, and then we can't look over them anymore, even if we did once.

What we considered important once and painted bright red, sometimes turns out inconsequential and disappears completely from our book. We don't even know what color we'd paint them if they were to make an appearance again.

Sometimes, at work, I have to judge something's importance by my colleagues' reactions to it. Sometimes they react very strongly to something I wouldn't consider important, and sometimes they don't seem to care enough about a seemingly important thing. Because they are more experienced and I assume they know better, their reactions affect my views, as well. I find myself talking passionately about small things, and become indifferent to events I would find important in another setting. Market's priorities started to become my own.

Professionalism, then, is to become devoid of emotion? Reactions are censored and over time, feelings are just not so strong anymore. This may be good when it comes to anger, envy, greed, desire or dislike, it sets minimum standards for the quality of your work and conduct.

But it may not be so good when you take that minimum standard literally and just don't feel so passionately about the subject matter of your work, your audience, or your ability to make a difference. Then you become a boring civil servant who treats everyone equally poorly, and start painting everything the same color - gray.

Fear is irrational

I looked at a blue blouse at an Indian (Pakistani? - let's say South Asian to be safe) shop on Wisconsin Avenue once. I told the shopowner I would think about it and come back. He said, "nobody comes back." I went back just to prove him wrong, restore his faith in humanity. The blouse turned out really bad, dying my underarms dark blue.

To be able to buy this reading lamp, I had to go to the Barclays ATM by Spitalfields. We negotiated the price and everything with the young guy selling the lamp, then I took off. On my way to the ATM, I wondered whether he was worried that I wouldn't go back. But then I decided he shouldn't be, because I liked the lamp enough to go back. (The energy-saving bulb he gave me doesn't work, I'd like to add with deep annoyance.)

I went all the way to Stoke Newington for this artist's work.

People go, come back. If they like you enough... Fear is irrational, unnecessary.

How to become a Bobo

I moved into a studio in Marylebone "village". I went to the Farmer's Market on Sunday, and all you could hear was a hushed hum, you could almost see the blue blood running behind serious, charismatic faces picking vegetables and fruits. My mom says the people in this area "don't have battered faces." Their every action, every expression seems measured yet smooth - just right, how it should be. I felt nervous and clumsy. All new reference points - the bar is higher now. My parents hope I'll come out of this more sophisticated.

I passed by the Ginger Pig and La Fromagarie, all anxious as I am when I go to Bebek or Nişantaşı -a little out of place. I will stop by later when I'm not by myself.

Knowing myself for this long, I don't think I have a sophisticated bone in me. I will sound fatalistic, but some people are just born with it. Their faces, hair, clothes, they are intelligent, smooth, serious. They are not flashy or overly confident or annoying. They are respectable. They carry everything they own and are with subdued entitlement, and live up to the life they are born into. I, on the other hand, am clumsy, anxious, worried and late. My face shines and I sweat. I'm not smooth, because I think too much and I worry.

After a trip to Waitrose, I decided to venture into the East End. When I lived there I hardly valued or appreciated it enough, but I missed it and fell in love with it when I moved away. First the stalls of Spitalfields, then onto Commercial Street, the Smudge Gallery with commercial graffiti, vintage shops, and finally Brick Lane. I walked into the Up Market in the old Truman Brewery, people sitting on the threshold with greasy Asian food. First food stalls, then I bought a necklace made from "recycled materials", then a silver ring, then I ran into this artist's stall. I liked his delicate work. I got his card, and moved on to get a reading lamp (more on that in the next post.)

I walked around some more with my reading lamp, stopped by and listened to a dirty but cheerful street band right around Vibe, ran into Gokhan from Athena (a Turkish ska band who performed at Bazaar Day once, back in the day), walked on this side street with expensive little Bobo shops, walked into a small art gallery and got a crispy bacon beigel (I think this was the high (low?) point of the day, depending how you look at it). I walked to the end of Brick Lane up to Bethnal Green. Then walked back to Liverpool Street from Shoreditch High Street. For my next move, I want a wooden-floored loft around there. It will be expensive despite the sketchy (not really), dirty (really), but spirited area. Just like a Bobo likes it.

I felt carefree and happy and myself. Excited about what could be lying ahead. Like I do when I walk from Galatasaray to Tunel and then to Galata.

On Monday, I considered getting Banksy's "feisty maid" for my vast empty wall, something I thought would remind me of the things I sweep under the rug. But on Tuesday, I decided to go find the artist in the Up Market. I e-mailed him and he responded promptly: He lived and worked in Stoke Newington. The Turkish area I've never been to.

I took Bus 73 from King's Cross, and passed through Islington. Islington seemed uglier and more run down then I thought, Stokey more cheerful and pretty - especially around Church Street. (High Street is more "rough" around the edges, as Pierre's London for Londoners book observes.) I found his flat/studio on a residential street, his flatmate (looked like he jumped out of Notting Hill with his white undershirt) got the door. The building was like a communal tower with rooms lined along a staircase. One room - storage for all his work, prints on canvases stretched over rectangular wooden blocks, the other an airy bedroom with the blue paintings he's working on. One piece of the three-piece print I got is cracked, apparently he dropped it off the window. Like the stats book that fell off the Healy Building once. He will replace it when I visit him in the Up Market not this Sunday - but next Sunday.

I got my prints, took the bus passing through Kingsland and Dalston and Shoreditch High and Liverpool Street. I saw what's beyond Shoreditch High for the first time.

I find it ironic how my tidy and clean flat has these prints from this artist's studio in Stoke Newington, how it has this reading lamp from the Up Market.

Does this little deliberate civilized adventure qualify me as a Bobo?

Under rug swept

Yesterday I was thinking about the things I don't like talking about, writing about, thinking about. Things I pretend do not exist, things I pretend are of no consequance (as long as nobody notices them). Things that make me feel uncomfortable or guilty or awkward or worthless. Things that would make the blood and meat of any good piece of writing - any good depiction of reality - I avoid. Money, sex, injustice, sickness, senselessness, envy, greed, fear, unfulfilled dreams, failure, deterioration, death. Justification and entitlement.

Then in the Smudge Gallery at Spitalfields, I ran into a reproduction of graffiti artist Banksy's "Sweeping it Under the Carpet."

Then I realized, not talking about something doesn't make it go away, disappear. Things you don't talk about make what you talk about less real, what you write about less deep. What is hidden robs what is displayed of part of its truth. Sterile and shallow. In the end, nobody gives you a prize for being that spotless.

People discount blogging as "public confession." There are things in our lives, however, that we can't even confess to ourselves. We just overlook them completely, we don't talk about them even in our heads. Self-censorship prevents one from capturing and depicting reality, one is then left with abstraction -bare bones- and other people's stories.

However disconcerting it is, facing reality with all its details and facets, inquiring beyond what I think I already know is the only way to something real.

A room of my own

I'm learning recently (from my parents) that the most practical thing might not be the best thing, the right thing to do. (In fact, the best things are seldom practical.) Living on my own might be the best thing to do for me now, although it is a bit scary and a more practical solution could be found. But maybe that would just make me put off what I should be doing. Spare time, as scary as it is, might give birth to something valuable.

I'm sitting in my temporary flat next to the railways. Trains pass by in all directions, making electric blue arcs, shaking the building from its foundations. Railways stand on archs, archs made of dirty gray tiles. These tiles cover the buildings, black frames hold windows. This place is like a fishermen's town. I am close to water. And I hope to be anchored soon.

Or maybe I am already anchored. As long as I write.

People change?

The purpose of this post is not to make a judgement on whether Turkey's Constitutional Court should have shut down Turkey's ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) on July 30. I still don't have an opinion on that. I would just hope Turkish people could produce a political movement which does not derive its power from religion (or the lack of, for that matter), but simply its competence in policy making and commitment to pluralism. And if I don't like any of the two sides, I don't have to take sides. Taking sides when both sides are wrong does injustice to the truth, to something better. I don't want to take sides in this struggle. I want out, I want a better, third option.

The purpose of this article is simply to understand why the staunch secularist judges let the AKP survive this. A favorable decision for the AKP was not expected given the judges' track record and the balance of power within the court.

A constructivist would claim that the judges changed their minds about the pay-offs associated with each option. So the calls for a "compromise solution" worked. The judges either perceived the potential costs of shutting down the AKP as higher than they did before, or the costs of letting it off the hook lower. In other words, the judges were either afraid of the consequences of banning a ruling party, i.e. political instability and associated economic costs. Or they realized that AKP is not as dangerous to the secular system as its predecessors, Welfare Party and Virtue Party.

A rationalist, on the other hand, would not expect this outcome, unless something deterred the judges from banning the party by altering their pay-offs. A rationalist would argue that our judges, as far as we know them, would have viewed AKP's long-term threat to the secular state as outweighing any short-term turbulance their verdict could create. Besides, their priority would have been to protect the Turkish constitution, (rather than suggesting that political parties would do well amending it!) Secondly, our judges would have perceived AKP as a credible threat, since it holds the power unprecedented by its predecessors. In short, a rationalist would dismiss the constructivist argument as wishful thinking.

Unless something changed the equation. Something that dawned on the analysts of international banks days before the actual ruling was out.

Whatever the reason of the judges' decision was, this decision signals a shift in conventional sense and expectations. Now we need to make our predictions based on a new formula, since what we took as given turned out to be variable. Maybe this is an all-out power struggle, and we cannot count on precedents anymore.

License to live

I need one. To understand the real consequances of the things I do, how everything I do and say will have consequences for people, how people won't bare with me like my family. Because they don't have to, if they see no point. And maybe I'm the one who's losing out because of that.

People shouldn't have to suffer for taking my word, they shouldn't suffer for counting on me.

I need to grow up.

Standards

sometimes it becomes so hard to live by the standards we set for ourselves. to live up to, to live by that moral code. to be that consistent all the time, to fit in that straitjacket we ourselves have created. trying to be perfect, looking for perfection in others. and staying lonely.

because they are not perfect. and we are not perfect. so we can't even stand our own company. we can't even stand behind ourselves.

don't try to fit me in your straitjacket. and I won't try to fit you in mine. and don't try to fit yourself in your straitjacket.

because it clearly doesn't fit.

we need larger space, where more is acceptable.

Procrastination

I was sitting in a tube station the other day, and looking around me, I got the feeling that everybody was putting off something. They were procrastinating, maybe knowing what they should be doing, but not doing it. Everything they were doing, was not to think about, to forget about what they should be doing.

London seemed like a huge entertainment park (not even that entertaining), but moving so fast, so that nobody has a chance to stop and think what it is they are really doing, and what they should be doing. Just trying to catch up with everything else happening around them. Barely catching up, keeping themselves occupied. An occupation in itself.

"Some people feel like they don't deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps in the past." Into the Wild, 2007

Being an only child

After years of having all the love and pampering all to yourself, one day, quite suddenly, you wake up and realise that you have some responsibilities that all those years were supposed to prepare you for. Although nobody told you, you were fed and loved and looked after for this moment. It's like taking a huge loan without knowing it was a loan, and then having to pay it back.

You have to keep your act together. You have to be strong. You have to be happy, because you have no reason not to be. Which in itself, I'm telling you, is a big responsibility. Having to be happy, having to end up happy.

I know how spoilt I sound, I'm sorry. I'm just a little overwhelmed with noone to help.

In my quest to build my self-standing, sustainable life. And be happy.

Somebody else's problem

My boss, apparently, had a library at the back of the office. I caught a glimpse of the books before, it was all cute and respectable, but today I got to carry them. Books, many of them, and folders - folders fulfilling their duty to their utmost limit. (I think the work of his last eighteen years or so. So years have weight.) Since my boss is on vacation, the lady who is responsible for our office expansion designated me as his next-of-kin. And the books, apparently, had to be carried now as the space downstairs would better be used now as they were paying for it now. (Although the workstations that will take the place of my boss's library won't arrive until August.)

And as I made probably 20 trips up and down the staircase (which is literally in the middle of the office) with my arms full of books and folders, my colleagues (most of them men) just carried on with their work. They were wearing their "somebody else's problem" shield. The only people who were sympathetic were the movers.

This happens on the train. People don't move their shit from the empty seats unless and until you ask them.

Now, the stupid thing about me is that I will move my shit away when I see someone walking up and down the aisle. I will propose to help if I see a coworker carrying stuff. Maybe I wear my somebody else's problem shield sometimes, too, in which case I wouldn't even realise that I'm doing so, but most of the time I see the problem and take it upon myself. And I don't ask people to do stuff for me unless I really have to. I just don't.

Then I get angry.

Out of nowhere

I finally saw Sex and the City. It was fun, very shallow, with a few slightly "deeper" moments. At times I felt like I was watching a TV movie, a soap opera. Mr. Big's plastic face, his very childish freak-out when Miranda tells him he and Carrie are crazy to get married, Samantha's stalking of the man-next-door, prompting her to leave her first 'love,' Carrie deciding to make her wedding bigger when she decides to wear a bigger dress, the assistant girl going crazy when Carrie gives her a real Louis Vuitton... It's OK when it's on TV, it's not OK on the movie screen. All of it seemed like a lot of hot air, a colorful inflated balloon. The only character I could relate to was Charlotte, who was afraid of losing the blessings she had when her friends, who were all good people, were unhappy.

Then my friend pointed out something, which I think explained all this shallowness. None of these people in the movie had families. We saw no declining parents, no less glamourous siblings, cousins, aunts or uncles. Even in the TV series, the only parent we saw was Steve's mother. (Steve, by the way, is the only normal, real person in the whole show.) These people seem like they have nothing to worry about but their relationships! Nothing holds them back, makes them question their way of life, lose their balance. They have a light and two-dimensional existence. There is no past, only now, only future. Only going forward. Without thinking about, feeling for much else but themselves. This makes me a little motion-sick.

Irreconcilable differences..?

As I'm completely uninspired to do anything else, I might as well write a few words...

I'm reading Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie, partly because of the Indian people I know... There's an air of humility and depth around (most) Indian people, even the most intelligent (maybe because they are so intelligent), something I find endearing and easy to relate to.

But the book itself is not our topic now, I'm sure I'll write about it later. An Indian friend of mine opened a random page the other day, and started picking out random names and explaining them: "Filmfare is the equivalent of People magazine, Polly Umrigar is a very attractive actress and so and so many people live in Kerala of which so and so many live under $2 a day..."

My other friend, who has read the book himself, said that we foreigners can make out things as we read along. I wasn't that optimistic, remembering the times I wondered how a foreigner could appreciate an Orhan Pamuk book fully.

At least we don't know what we are missing.

The next day, we went to a karaoke place with my Indian friend and his friends. Karaoke (an experience like no other - hearing your own horrible trembling singing voice, it's like seeing yourself naked from outside) deserves its own post, which will come soon. At one point they started talking about social networking events that are exclusive to South Asians. I asked whether they would date non-Indians. One of them said issues arise when they do. The other one questioned the rationale behind that, pointing out that Sikh men can be annoying, and everyone else can be quite nice.

There are some truths that are common to everyone. That's what makes a good book a good book - universally. That's what will make me like Midnight's Children, and an Indian like Orhan Pamuk. Because deep down, we are similar.

But we are also different, and the importance of this difference is hard to rationalise. That feeling of recognition when you hear music, when you see a gesture, when you go to a place, the landscape, when someone talks about something you both know, even a TV show, a celebrity, a politician. An inside joke. Those names. Specifics.

These differences enrich our lives, and we try to hang on to them. Smells, sounds, tastes, the sunlight and the colors, there is only one home. It's irrational. Like love. Belonging can only be justified by differences.

But then, I have lived in a few places, and I miss them, too. With time and knowledge one can make a new home...

Would we be missing anything?

The real deal on Turkish economy


At times like these, it seems redicilous to talk about economics. The latest detentions under the Ergenekon investigation are perceived as the government's response to the closure case brought against it in the Constitutional Court. The investigation has completely lost the credibility it once had in the eyes of the public, and the detainees are viewed as victims, not suspects. How can anyone feel safe and secure in a country when one cannot trust the police, the justice system? These detentions are just the tip of the iceberg. People who are anonymous to all but their loved ones are detained all the time, we just don't know about them. Our government has demonstrated that they are no different from all those who held power in the past. God help the powerless, the weak in this country.


The feeling of justice, safety and security is the fundamental condition of a thriving economy. People find ways to survive in any country, but they can go beyond survival only when they feel safe, only when they know that their lives and efforts are not left to the whims of those who hold power. Let alone attracting investment and technology from abroad, the best and the brightest people in our country will leave at the first chance they get, because they rightly feel that they are not getting what they work for, what they deserve.

Our economy has been performing well from 2002 to 2006 simply because macroeconomic conditions improved. Better fiscal discipline allowed inflation figures and interest rates to drop to more acceptable levels, banks were better regulated. Favourable global economic conditions helped us attract FDI and borrow cheaply, enabling us to finance the growing current account deficit. Now that the actual performance of the economy has caught up with its potential, growth rates have been slowing down. Now the question is how to increase the potential of the economy and achieve real growth, which is desperately needed to create jobs for millions of unemployed. And we have to achieve that in a more difficult global environment, when portfolio investments will be more easily reversed and foreign borrowing will be more expensive.

The real issue is the real economy. It is about how to increase savings and investment. People will save and invest only when they feel they are not striving in vain. They will build something only when they know that it has a potential to grow, that it stands on solid ground. Potential investors will consider the quality and credibility of institutions and laws, the quality of the workforce. If potential risks outweigh potential returns, undesirable decisions will be made all the time. Money will flow to high-return financial instruments and bank accounts instead of the real economy. Banks will lend to the government to get high interest instead of lending to entrepreneurs. As the current account deficit grows, macroeconomic policy will fall hostage to the whims of foreign investors and lenders instead of responding to the needs of the real economy.

Unfortunately, more sound macroeconomic management, supported by foreigners' strong appetite for our assets, was not enough to achieve sustainable growth. Economics is not enough to achieve a strong economy. Cheatsheets and equations will not give us the solution. What we need is decency and competence.

Balance of Payments cheat sheet

It's been a long time since my last post about the Turkish economy, so an update is long overdue.

First of all, a cheat sheet to guide me through a qualitative analysis. The equations below are taken from the Balance of Payments Manual published by the IMF. Most of it is quite intuitive, but I like to keep the formulas in sight. Please refer to page 21 of the report.

C = private consumption expenditure

G = government consumption expenditure
I = gross domestic investment

S = gross saving

X = exports of goods and services

M = imports of goods and services

NY = net income from abroad

GDP = gross domestic product

GNDY = gross national disposable income

CAB = current account balance in the balance of payments

NCT = net current transfers

NKT = net capital transfers

NPNNA = net purchasses of nonproduced, nonfinancial assets

NFI = net foreign investment or net lending/net borrowing vis-á-vis the rest of the world

GDP = C + G + I + X - M

CAB = X - M + NY + NCT

GNDY = C + G + I + CAB

GNDY - C - G = S

S = I + CAB

S - I = CAB

S - I + NKT - NPNNA = CAB + NKT - NPNAA = NFI

And the rest of our cheat sheet comes from Wikipedia (I know this is lazy but I'm still officially on vacation and here it's 35 Celsius.)

Current Account = Balance of trade + Net factor income from abroad + Net unilateral transfers from abroad

Financial Account = Increase in foreign ownership of domestic assets - Increase in domestic ownership of foreign assets

= Foreign direct investment + Portfolio investment (equity and debt) + Other investment

Capital Account is the transfer of nonproduced, nonfinancial goods (capital goods.)

Balance of payments identity

Current Account = Capital Account + Financial Account + Net errors and emissions

X - M = Capital outflows - Capital inflows

And the following equations come from a Deloitte report on Turkish economy:

Financing Needs = Current account deficit + Debt servicing (public and private debt)

Resources for Financing Needs = FDI + Portfolio Investments (Equity) + Debt (private and public loans) + Banks' assets in hard currency + Net errors and emissions + Reserves

Özgürlük

Önce lütfen şu yazıyı okuyun. Okuduğumda özgürlüğün ne demek olduğu, kadınların ne kadar özgür olduğu konusunda düşünmemi sağladı.

Özgürlük kavramı, yazıda da çok güzel anlatıldığı gibi, seçimlerin nasıl yapıldığını, yapılan seçimin doğru olup olmadığını sorgulama gerekliliğini ortadan kaldıran, düşünce tembelliğine yol açan bir paravan haline geldi. Herkes özgür, herkes istediğini yapar, saygı duymak lazım! Demokratik yaşam budur, karşılıklı hoşgörü budur.

Ancak kadınlar niye bu seçimleri yapıyorlar? Çünkü çevrelerinde onlara "başarı modeli" olarak sunulan, "olması gereken" diye gördükleri referans noktaları var, onlar da rekabet içine giriyorlar. Bu muhafazakar kesim için iyi bir koca bulmak, iyi bir ev hanımı olmak olabilir. Bu liberal, şehirli kesim için kariyerinde başarılı olmak, bir yandan da heyecanlı bir özel hayata sahip olmaktır. Gerçekten istediklerinin, kendileri için en anlamlı seçeneğin ne olduğunu düşünmeden, içinde bulundukları gruba ayak uydurmaya, herkes kadar iyi olmaya çalışıyorlar. Üstelik "olması gereken" gibi olmadıklarında, parkurun dışına çıktıklarında en büyük eleştirmenleri kendi hemcinsleri oluyor.

Peki kadınların yaptıkları seçimler her zaman doğru mu, iyi mi? Türban takmak iyi bir şey mi? Ya da öbür uçta, porno filminde oynamak, hadi onu da bırakın plajlarda göbek atmak iyi bir şey mi? Bunlar kadınları gerçekten mutlu ediyor mu? Aslında iyi kızlar da, kötü kızlar da erkeklerin taleplerini karşılıyor. Ama içinde bulundukları parkurdan çıkmak gibi bir seçenekleri olduğunu düşünemiyorlar, düşünseler bile buna cesaret edemiyorlar, çünkü o zaman o çok ihtiyaçları olan onaylanma, kabul edilme duygusundan vazgeçmeleri gerekecek. Ama ne de olsa özgürler, kendi seçimlerini yapıyorlar!

Ancak şu da var: Gerçekten özgür olmaya her kadın kendisi karar verebilir, cesaret edebilir... Tabii ki kadınların önündeki fırsatların, seçeneklerin artırılmasına çalışılabilir, ama yine kadınlara kalıyor bunları değerlendirip değerlendirmemek...