Bir analist olacak candostuma...

Psikanalizle ilk ilgilenmeye başladığım yıllardı, sanırım 15 ya da 16 yaşındaydım. Birkaç tane Freud devirmiş, "du bakali n'olcek" gibisinden aranıyordum. Ailecek o zamanlarda İzmir Fuarı'ndaki Kitap Fuarına gitmiştik. Görür görmez atladım Yeni Başlayanlar için Lacan adlı çizgi-kitaba (bu arada bu kitapları çok tuttuğumu söylemeliyim - okurun asıl metinlere yol alması için bir giriş niteliğinde kullanıldıkça en azından). Babam sordu bu kimdir nedir diye. Anlatmaya Oidipus Kompleksinden başladım. O'na "oğlan çocuğu Anne'yi arzular, Baba önünde bir engel oluşturduğundan, sembolik olarak onu öldürmek ister" dedim, biraz da onun ilgisini çekmek, önyargılarını kaşımak için. Gerçekten entelektüel olan (ama maalesef Psikanalizle ilgilenmeyen) Babam bir an yerinde durdu, sağ elini bir Osmanlı külhanbeyi gibi kaldırdı ve "böyle heriflere bi koyacaksın bazen!" diye matrak ama bilgelik dolu bir laf etti. Babam bu konuda haklı olmayabilirdi, ama büyük adamdı vesselam!

Syntax and Sociology

Now humor me. As I was putting my daughter to bed, an idea popped up among the now mantra-like lullaby singing. One of the differences in syntax between Turkish and English concerns the position of the relative clause/sıfat-ilgi tümceciği in relation to the subject/özne. While the relative clause usually comes after the subject followed by the action it is performing through the verb in English whereas in Turkish, the clause comes before the subject, turning it into a full-blown adjective that describes it. Moreover in English, relative clauses are usually separated by the main sentence by use of punctuation, especially the comma. In Turkish though they are –again usually- attached to the subject, which waits patiently for the moment in speech to arrive at the verb-al action it sought out to perform in the first place. In English the subject and the verb announces their presence up front, foregrounding the do-er of the action and underlining what there is to be done. The image of the mighty individual, pronouncing its voluntariness and intention to take action towards the world comes to mind. On the other hand the Turkish subject is able to perform its action only after the elements relating to the subject are fully expressed.

Consider these sentences:

TR: Gönderdiğin çiçekler için teşekkür ederim.

ENG: (I) Thank you for the flowers (that/, which) you’ve sent me.

This may sound simplistic, as my attempt here is not to go into linguistic conundrums. However, as a (perhaps too big a) generalization, I think I can posit the relevance of a socio-cultural trait in this linguistic rule. In my opinion, the Turkish language/culture tries to foreground modesty, and even to a significant extent, submission to a higher authority in its usage of language. Perhaps this is why sentences with passive constructions are much favored. The subject of the action is enshrouded, blurred, and the actual verb and what it does to the world takes precedence. This idea resonates fully with Islamic precepts that foregrounds Allah’s will before everything individuals do. The word Islam itself means, “to surrender.” Therefore the subject, though possessing free will, still is under partial (or full, I still am not quite clear on this-this is I think one of the many doctrinal difficulties of Islam) control of Allah. The same goes for the submission to higher authorities. Consider the sacred position of the Caliphate or the Sultan, which can be easily found in collections of folk tales like the Tutiname, or the 1001 Nights. Now on the contrary, I think it is safe to say that Western Capitalist culture foregrounds the individual as a free agent, whose actions are mostly based on their own intentions (this is of course much challenged since the 19^th century onwards). In language use, in contrast to Turkish, English favors the use of active sentence constructions too, positing the defined/implied subject in the beginning of most sentences, clearly delineating who does what. Surrendering to Christ is also present in mostly secularized Continental and Anglo-American culture, however this surrendering I think is very different than the one in Islam, which is a concept too large to discuss in this particular piece. In any case, the said process of secularization is also an interesting point of inquiry.

Take the courtly love tradition, or even the great masters of Continental literature like Dante. Today it is no secret that both these examples are hugely indebted to Ummayad-Andalusian Islam. Sufi masters of the period posit Allah as the Beloved, which can never be reached, maybe only glimpsed at, but “married to” through death. Now consider Dante’s Beatrice in La Vita Nuova, or the way the troubadours shifted these, sometimes almost erotic metaphors onto their understanding of the lover (the Knight for example), or the loved (the Princess in peril for example). There is an excellent book by Robert Briffaut on this subject if anyone is interested (The Troubadours, 1965: IUP). In this sense, the Beloved is transposed onto a mortal agent, though the fact that the Princess/Lover (as in Dante’s Beatrice) is not to be reached, although she remains a Muse for life of the agent. So, what happens then? In comes an action that again foregrounds the agent’s conscious intention towards an action that has the possibility of changing the situation to their own, worldly advantage: The slaying of the Dragon… In this way, Continental troubadour poetry not only secularizes the religious imagery employed by the Sufis, but also posits smack in the middle, an event that requires full, external action based on the agent’s intent to an endeavor in the world, whose consequences are physical…

I know all this sounds too simplistic, but neither is this a dissertation nor am I a scholar. The point is that both languages reflect and affect their own cultural evolution.

There is also the position and function of the author in both languages that helps this argument but I shouldn’t get carried further away. At least, not for now.

All criticism (negative or positive) are welcome.