A falseness that is truly indistinguishable

Dr. Adem Şentürk

Works of art—whether a film or a novel—are not merely a flat narrative, but also a reinterpretation of life. An artist, in a work fictionalized based on real life, reveals their own perspective and their own voice. For this reason, art is not just an object of consumption; it is a tool for the individual to question themselves and their society.

In today's age of hyper-communication, individual voices are becoming increasingly blurred; everyone looks different but says similar things, defining themselves by metrics that reduce success to numbers, such as likes and follower counts. In this environment, artists with original voices and their works become even more valuable.

Last week, I went to the wedding of a family I hadn't seen in a long time. I didn't recognize the people I met after years at first glance, but I recognized them by their voices. The voice is unique; it gives away who it belongs to. Think about it: A world where everyone speaks with the same voice... That would be a dystopia in itself. Today, although the forms look different, the content is monotonous: People suppress their own voices and mistake the voices of others for their own self.

The transformative power of art comes into play right here. In a conversation I had with a film critic, they told me, “If directors read some of what is written about their films, they would say, ‘I didn't tell this.’” I replied as follows:

“Art cannot be reduced to the director's intention. As Jacques Tati said, the film begins after it leaves the cinema. The task of art is not consumption, but transformation. When a critic opens up new areas of questioning with their own interpretation, the danger of the audience becoming homogenized disappears. Even a wrong idea is valuable; because it triggers thinking. The purpose of criticism should not be limited to repeating or explaining the director's view; if it were, the director would convey what they wanted to tell in a text after the film and prevent ‘wrong’ interpretations.”

I am reminded of an interview with İnci Aral in 2015. She had attended a book signing at a book fair. Next to her was the publishing house stand of an author named A, who was at the top of the bestseller list at the time. She asked the officials, “Why don't you organize a book signing for your bestselling author?” They replied, “There is no such author,” and added: “We collect the posts that get the most likes on social media; three or four editors make a collage of these and we publish it under the name X.” İnci Aral was very surprised.

This situation is also seen today on the shelves of chain bookstores or on the “bestseller” lists of websites, especially in the popular psychology category. While writing and art are a method for a person with a claim to understand life, change society, and make their own voice heard; nowadays, it can turn into a fake and hollow tool of satisfaction that tells people what they want to hear. Is the idea of art, which has ceased to be an end and has been reduced to a means, not a dystopia in itself?

If all the works in all the museums were replaced with fake copies overnight, most visitors would likely not notice. This situation reminds us that art has now turned into a showcase object consumed under the guarantee of authorities. The famous Louvre Museum was founded after the French Revolution, and works consistent with the ideas of the revolutionary authority were exhibited. Is this not putting thinking into a mold? How much freedom is it to think within a mold that passes through the filter of a certain authority? Yet, art should transform and liberate the human being. Otherwise, it only turns into a spectacle tool that provides an appearance of elitism.

For this reason, my goal in my articles will be to be a sincere voice; to contribute to the betterment of society and to open up inquiries about “truth” based on works of art. Because a robust society consists of questioning individuals.

How does the individual emerge? First of all, by questioning the patterns they are accustomed to. The fact that the fake and the real can be equated so easily today perhaps stems from the fact that the value of labor is not sufficiently recognized. As in Aleksey German Jr.'s film Dovlatov, people who live in difficult conditions and put the problems of their society into writing are often excluded. Despite this, they want to join the union and have their writings published; but they are mostly met by intellectuals who “do not get involved in anything,” taking refuge in abstraction with the claim of transcending their era.

When the falseness of the image replaces the reality of producing, people who occupy influential positions because they are compliant emerge in this system that becomes mediocre, as in the film. The character who evaluates Dovlatov's works—who is actually a urologist and is only interested in writing for the image—talks nonsense, and Dovlatov leaves the environment. Just then, this person says, “Come for a prostate exam if you need one.” Dovlatov asks mockingly, “Is this a new criterion for joining the writers' union?” The urologist closes the subject by saying, “No, I'm already a urologist.”

This situation should make us think about this: The discrediting of a value earned with labor points not only to the fake, but also to the absence of a social consciousness that will distinguish it. If the value of labor is not known, showiness replaces truth; noise replaces meaning.

A real intellectual life is only possible with the existence of individuals who have found their own voices. Otherwise, there are only hollowed-out symbols, repeating slogans, and thoughts that imitate each other. And we find it increasingly difficult to find the truth within this noise.