What we call a new year is not so much a threshold in the calendar as a temporary stopover in one's own conscience. The year that is left behind is not a simple summation of what has happened; it is the residue of truths that are often unspoken, suppressed, normalized and covered over with silence. What happens throughout the year does not only remain in the news headlines, statistics or the fast-consuming agenda of social media; it shapes our minds, our language and our outlook on life without being noticed. This is why the accounting done as we enter the new year must include not only the question “what happened” but also “why did we remain silent” and “what have we accepted”.
The past year has been a year in which the gap between humanity's claim to progress and its fragility has become a little more visible. We no longer deny that we live in a world that is more technologically connected, more politically polarized, more economically precarious, and yet we act as if there is no other option. Crises are accepted as temporary, injustices as natural, uncertainty as part of destiny. And this is where the unspoken is: We are used to it. Getting used to it has been the strongest and most dangerous emotion of the year. Although it may seem like a reflex that keeps people alive, in the long run it has created a state of numbness that dulls the conscience, lowers expectations and renders objection meaningless.
On the political plane, the past year will be remembered as a period in which words lost their value and concepts became empty. Words like democracy, freedom, security and stability were used a lot, but very few of them were actually felt. For the rulers, reality became a perception to be managed; for individuals, a weight to be avoided. People now prefer to take refuge in narratives that confirm their fears rather than learning the truth. This is not only a political problem, but also a philosophical break: We are in an age where comfort has replaced truth.
This is precisely where the challenges of the new year rise. The biggest challenge is not economic or technological; it is about meaning. As people have more things, they know less about why they live. The future becomes a repository of deferred anxiety rather than a place of hope. Youth is hurried but hopeless, adulthood is tired but obliged, and old age is silent and marginalized. Generations live in the same world but do not believe in the same story. This rupture is deepening not only between individuals but also in the relationship that people establish with themselves.
Concerns will be even more visible in the new year. The climate crisis is no longer an abstract threat; it is a silent determinant of everyday life. Wars, migrations, poverty, poverty, gender issues and inequality are no longer tragedies seen on screens but are becoming the global norm. The most dangerous worry is that none of this will really surprise us. A person who is not surprised turns into a person who does not object. And the person who does not object, in time, transfers his/her responsibility to others.
But despite all this, hope is still possible, because hope is not an optimism based on improved conditions, but the courage to recognize one's own limitations. The most realistic expectation of the New Year is not that everything will be better, but that despite everything being so broken, we can still think, ask and be ashamed. Shame has become one of the most revolutionary emotions of our time, because it is a sign that we have not yet completely surrendered.
Perhaps the new year promises small but sincere ruptures rather than big transformations. To shut up a little where everyone else is talking loudly, to ask the right question where everyone else is silent, to consciously avoid the easy answer that the majority gravitates towards. What is never said is this: The world is not going to change in an instant, but one's relationship with oneself can. And sometimes this is more shocking than any political manifesto.
The most honest wish as we enter the New Year is not to be happy, but to remain conscientious and moral. Because those who remain conscientious and moral are the first to recognize the darkness. And those who recognize the darkness know that eventually a light is possible.
Gürsel Karaaslan