Deep sycophancy, selfishness, and the New Constitution

My late father, Bedi Yazıcı, was an important businessman. When he returned to the country in 1939 after receiving a master's degree in business administration from Columbia University (New York), business administration had not yet become a separate scientific discipline even in England, which is historically and undoubtedly the cradle of trade. He first started working at Milli Reasürans and teaching insurance courses at the Higher School of Commerce. Then, in 1948, he founded Genel Sigorta and later Tam Sigorta. 

My father, whom those in the know remember as one of the founders of our country's insurance industry, was also a man of routine. He would return home around 14:00 every day, sleep for a while, and then go play bridge. Shortly after the May 27, 1960 coup, he had become the president of the Istanbul Chamber of Commerce. During his usual afternoon nap, the phone by his bedside rang bitterly. The caller was a famous businessman who was a member of the Chamber of Commerce board. “Bedi, good news, our esteemed President Cemal Gürsel Pasha has finally accepted our invitation. Our Chamber is hosting a dinner in his honor at the Karaköy Liman Restaurant this evening at 19:00. I assume you would like to be there too.” Before my father could speak, he let out a colorful curse emphasizing the sycophancy of the person on the other end of the line, followed by, “You son of a……, how can you invite the President without the knowledge of your chamber president!”  

However, by this time, it was already 17:00. My father lowered his sails, dressed in a hurry, walked briskly to the Kadıköy Pier, boarded the ferry, and walked through the door of the Liman Restaurant at exactly 18:45. And what did he see? Cemal Pasha was early and was in a heated conversation with the country's leading businessmen, including the one who had broken the news of this invitation to my father a few hours earlier. He approached the group and was about to say welcome when the Pasha took the words out of his mouth. “Oh, Mr. President, welcome. I understand that you were not very pleased with my coming here this evening.” My father, understandably, was very surprised. He muttered a word or two along the lines of, “God forbid, where did that come from,” and quietly left the group. He pulled up to the windows and started smoking while looking at the sea.  

A short while later, he sensed someone approaching him. When he turned around, what did he see? Cemal Pasha had left the group and was standing next to him. This time, there was no trace of the sarcasm from earlier. “Bedi, my son, I know these men very well too. I got to know them even better when they snitched on your anger today. Now I have a proposal for you; let's teach them a lesson they will never forget. You know, the restaurant has an extension that runs perpendicular to the sea, on the street side.  Tell the waiters to prepare a small table there just for the two of us. Let's toast as two presidents. Oh, and don't forget, you will sit facing the sea, and I will turn my back to them.” 

The late economics professor/businessman Cihat İren was the first Minister of Trade after May 27. He was both my patient and a friend with whom I had a friendship that I still remember with great joy and respect, and whom I still miss. He also had a memory about Cemal Gürsel quite similar to what I heard from my father. The Pasha would complain to those around him: “Friends, please, stop trying to kiss my hand all the time. My elbow is sore from pulling my arm away from your hands, I swear.”

My father spent his whole life trying to establish an effective life insurance system in his country. He was very saddened that he could not succeed in this. However, shortly before he passed away, on his sickbed, he made a confession to me: “Hasan, for years I tried to establish an effective life insurance system in this country, but I could never succeed. Life insurance, on one hand, ensures an individual's humane living, and on the other, makes a great contribution to the country's wealth. My initiatives in this direction always remained fruitless. I wrote articles, I entered into countless debates with those who govern the country and my colleagues. None of it worked. Until today, I always thought there were two leading reasons behind this failure: 1. Lack of legal legislation; 2. Inflation that never lets go of our collars. But now I understand. I was always wrong. The main problem is deeper. Look, my son, the basic philosophy of life insurance can be expressed as, ‘You will make such savings that the savings of those savings will not belong to you.’ Unfortunately, the minds of my countrymen just cannot grasp this.” I understood well what he meant. My country was in a spiral of selfishness born from widespread distrust in one place, and a distrust deepened by this very selfishness. 

I cannot help but mention this. In recent days, our appetite for a new Constitution is whetted again. Let us not forget. Throughout history, no constitution has ever found a remedy for deep sycophancy and selfishness.