There is a class in Turkey that has gone unquestioned for years.
What a capitalist class…
What a political class…
What a hassle…
What a media…
All of them have, at one time or another, been criticized, put on trial, punished at the ballot box, or held accountable by the public.
But there was a group that saw itself as standing above all these mechanisms.
They introduced themselves as artists.
Then they called him an intellectual.
Then they called him a community leader.
Then they called it the conscience of society.
Finally, they saw themselves as having the authority to speak on behalf of the people.
And that’s exactly where the big problem began.
Because as the number of people speaking on behalf of the people has grown, the people themselves have disappeared.
There were people in the squares, but the microphone was in someone else’s hands.
The public was there at the elections, but the same people were the ones speaking.
Poverty belonged to the people, but the podium belonged to others.
The pain was his, but it was others who told the story.
And over the years, a strange routine developed.
A group of people gained immunity by speaking on behalf of the public.
They were the ones who criticized, yet they were the ones who weren’t criticized.
Some demanded answers, but others refused to provide them.
They acted like they were giving lessons in morality, but they never took a hard look at their own moral standards.
Today, that system is crumbling.
Because for the first time, the question is taking a different turn.
For the first time, the people are speaking out.
For the first time, the podium is being set up from the bottom up.
And for the first time, the following question is being asked:
You’ve been speaking on behalf of the people for half a century.
So what have you done for the people?
This question upsets some people.
Because for years they thought that singing songs about poverty was the same as finding a solution to poverty.
It is not.
For years, they believed that reading poetry about labor was the same as touching the lives of workers.
It is not.
For years, they thought that talking about justice was the same as fighting for it.
It is not.
Talking is a different matter.
Producing is a different matter.
Getting applause is a different matter.
Leaving a legacy is another matter.
Today we look back.
Tens of thousands of concerts…
Hundreds of festivals…
Thousands of TV shows…
Countless political statements…
So, what's the result?
How many dorms?
How many scholarship funds?
How many soup kitchens?
How many enduring social institutions?
A work that has changed the lives of how many generations?
This is where a very serious question arises:
Did those who spoke on behalf of the people truly speak for the people?
Or was the public the most valuable asset they used to build their careers?
Because the picture that has emerged in recent years shows that:
They once said, “Art is for art’s sake.”.
Then they said, “Art is for society.”.
But in practice, a completely different approach emerged.
No one gave it a name.
But everyone saw it.
The name of the new movement was:
“Art is for profit.”
THE PRIVILEGED CLASS OF THE FESTIVAL REPUBLIC
Every era has its own aristocracy.
At certain times, this aristocracy draws its strength from its titles of nobility.
At times, from wealth.
At times, because of bureaucracy.
In Turkey, however, a different kind of aristocracy has emerged over the past thirty years.
The cultural elite.
They didn't win any elections.
What a party they threw.
They didn't hold themselves accountable to the public.
But they tried to impose moral control over society.
Because they had microphones in their hands.
Because they were able to appear on screen.
Because the newspapers were reporting on them.
Because municipal stages were open to them.
And over time, an invisible network of privileges emerged.
From festival to festival…
From concert to concert…
From panel to panel…
The same names.
Same faces.
The same circles.
The same applause.
The same political relations.
While millions of young artists in Turkey are struggling to make ends meet, it was no coincidence that the same names have been circulating in the same organizations for years.
This was the result of a cultural system.
A self-contained system.
A system that generates its own references.
A system that applauds itself.
A self-reinforcing system.
And most importantly…
A system that proclaims itself to be the representative of the people.
This is where a major contradiction arises.
Because a significant number of those who speak on behalf of the people no longer live the same lives as the people.
They're talking about poverty.
But they aren’t living in poverty.
They're talking about financial difficulties.
But they don’t have any financial difficulties.
They're talking about the public's anger.
But they don’t live among the people.
They're talking about the people.
But are they turning back to the public?
No, no, no.
Because, over time, they drifted away from the society they claimed to represent.
Instead, they became part of a new community.
The cultural elite.
Municipal circles.
The protocol tables.
Private events.
Centers of political power.
And that is precisely why the debate taking place today is not merely a debate about art.
It is a class discussion.
Because a significant portion of those who spoke on behalf of the people for years have now become spokespeople not for the people, but for the cultural order they themselves have established.
That is why the same people supported the same politicians.
The same people were involved in the same political campaigns.
The same people have gathered around the same centers of power.
And for years, they claimed they were doing this “on behalf of the people.”.
No, no, no.
Not on behalf of the people.
They did it in the name of the cultural sphere of influence they had established.
Today, for the first time, that issue is being examined.
For the first time, the following question is being asked:
You have spoken on behalf of the people for all these years.
So what did the people give you?
And what have you given back to the people?
That is the hardest question to answer.
Because it’s easy to get applause.
It's easy to find a microphone.
It's easy to be hailed as a hero.
The real challenge is to leave behind a tangible social legacy when we look back.
And it seems that those who have been handing out report cards to others for years are now, for the first time, having to face their own.
IT IS NOT THE SONG THAT CHANGES, BUT THE WIND
History can sometimes be very cruel.
Because it has an archive.
Saves photos.
It saves conversations.
He keeps his songs to himself.
It keeps what was said yesterday.
And when the time comes, it presents itself to a person.
This is precisely what lies at the heart of today’s debate.
Because the collective memory of society sees this:
Those who stood on the same podiums yesterday are acting as if they were strangers to one another today.
Those who were praising the same people yesterday are now putting them in the crosshairs.
Those who applauded yesterday are cursing today.
Those who walked side by side yesterday are acting today as if they had never walked together.
One can't help but ask:
What has changed?
Have the songs changed?
Have the folk songs changed?
Have the terms changed?
Or has the balance of power shifted?
Because there is a growing sense that, for some artists and intellectuals, the wind—not principles—is their true compass.
To turn whichever way the wind blows…
Moving toward the center of power…
To forget old friends when a new center of power emerges…
And then to call that a “moral stance”…
This is exactly what the public objects to.
No one is saying that people can’t change their minds.
No one is saying you can’t criticize.
But when you defend the exact opposite of what you said yesterday, you have to answer for your actions from yesterday.
Because there can be no morality without consistency.
There can be no conscience without consistency.
Without consistency, there is no right to lecture the public.
This is exactly the problem some people are facing today.
For years, they sat in a position of moral superiority.
They decided who was a democrat.
They decided who was progressive.
They decided who was modern.
They decided who was acceptable.
It was as if they had set up a cultural tribunal.
They became prosecutors.
They took control.
They served on the jury.
They made the decision themselves.
But they never took the stand.
It's their first time sitting down.
For the first time, the public is asking:
You’ve been judging everyone for years.
So who will judge you?
You’ve been grading everyone for years.
So who will read your report card?
For years, you’ve questioned other people’s integrity.
So when are you going to answer for your own consistency?
Perhaps that is the reason for the anger we are seeing today.
Because the roles are switching for the first time.
For the first time, the microphone isn't working on one side.
For the first time, those speaking on behalf of the people are facing the people’s questions.
And the most difficult of those questions is this:
Were you being sincere yesterday when you were writing songs for those same people?
Or are you being sincere when you attack those same people today?
Both cannot be true.
Because the truth never changes.
But the situation could change.
And it seems that for some people, it is not the truth that changes, but their position.
That is why the debate taking place today is not a debate about art.
It's a character debate.
It is a debate about consistency.
And perhaps most importantly…
It's a debate about sincerity.
THRONES ARE SHAKING
Every system is founded on legitimacy.
Political systems derive their legitimacy from the ballot box.
Legal systems are based on the constitution.
Economic systems are based on production.
Cultural norms, on the other hand, stem from the respect accorded by society.
That is precisely why a major turning point is taking place today.
Because that cultural prestige, which has been accepted without question for years, is now being seriously questioned for the first time.
For the first time, people are asking:
Who gave you the authority to speak on behalf of the people in this country?
On what basis do you claim to represent the conscience of millions of people in this country?
In which election were you elected?
What kind of social scrutiny have you been through?
To whom did you report?
And most importantly…
How much of the advice you’ve been giving the public over the years have you actually put into practice in your own life?
This is where the real crisis of the cultural aristocracy begins.
Because the routine they were used to was different.
They were the ones speaking.
It was the people who were listening.
They were the ones who judged.
It was others who were on trial.
They were the ones asking the questions.
It was others who answered.
Now the tables are turning.
And this change is causing serious concern for some people.
Because for the first time, the public is shifting from merely applauding to questioning.
For the first time, it appears that artists can be held to the same scrutiny as political leaders, businesspeople, and journalists.
Yet that is exactly what democracy is.
A system where no one is sacred.
A realm where no one is off-limits.
A collective memory in which no one can rewrite the future by erasing the past.
Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu is not at the heart of today’s debate either.
There is no internal party conflict either.
The real issue is much bigger.
The real issue is that a group that has been speaking on behalf of society for years is now beginning to be questioned by society itself.
Because people don't just look at what you say anymore.
It depends on how you live.
It depends on what you produce.
It depends on who you're speaking to and who you're staying silent in front of.
He's looking back on the days when you took risks.
It also looks at the days when you don’t take any risks.
And finally, he passes his own judgment.
Maybe that's why they're angry.
Because for years they believed they were the conscience of society.
But society is telling them something else:
“Conscience is not a matter of claim, but of sacrifice.”
“Representation isn’t achieved simply by declaring oneself a representative.”
“Speaking on behalf of the people does not mean standing above them.”
What is crumbling today is not just the reputation of a few artists.
What is crumbling is a mindset that believes itself to be beyond question.
It’s not just a few careers that are crumbling.
What is crumbling is the moral guardianship that was established over the years under the guise of cultural superiority.
And that is why what is happening is not a debate about art, but a debate about legitimacy.
For the first time, a society is asking itself this question:
“For years, you’ve been telling us what to think…”
”So what have you left behind in this country?”
How many lasting works?
An institutional legacy that has touched the lives of how many generations?
Because at the end of the day, people remember the results, not the songs.
It is not the applause but the works that are remembered.
He remembers the traces, not the slogans.
And as history delivers its final verdict, it poses a single question from which no one can escape:
“You spoke on behalf of the people…”
”So what have you done for the people?”
And so, the day of reckoning for the cultural aristocracy begins with this very question.