Introduction
Literature “is regarded by all nations as a discipline of great value,” declares Namık Kemal (1840–88), after listing the merits of literature as a key component of world civilization. “Yet,” he adds, “our literature unfortunately lacks almost all of the aforementioned qualities.” This assertion lies at the core of “Lisan-i Osmani’nin Edebiyatı Hakkında Bazı Mülahazatı Şamildir” (“On the Literature of the Ottoman Language”). “Do we have any literary works…worthy of praise,” he asks, “if they were stripped of their linguistic ornaments?” Employing an Enlightenment metaphor prevalent at the time, he continues his rhetorical speculation: “When the sun of knowledge spreads its light everywhere and reveals the true nature of things, how can we hope to save our works, which are filled with fantasies beyond reality and nature, from ruin?” As a starting point for his manifesto, the rhetoric of lack frames the proposal of a systematic reformation of the Ottoman language, which would remedy this deficiency. This rhetoric of lack informs two dimensions of the argument about literature that Kemal develops in the essay: literature is conceived, first, as a national and political resource for building an authentic cultural identity and, second, as a medium for a universal set of aesthetic values that reflects the modern age, defined as “a republic of letters,” marked by the freedom of not being “bound to anyone’s authority,” including that of tradition or the elites.
Kemal’s essay was one of the most important events in the history of Ottoman Turkish literature, although the essay is short, stylistically complex, and sometimes thematically obscure, making it hard to penetrate even for his contemporaries and for scholars of Ottoman literature. Nevertheless, its publication evoked a tremendous response among intellectuals for decades to come.Footnote 1 Published in 1866 in a prominent newspaper edited by Kemal, the essay immediately became a key text of late Ottoman culture and laid the foundations of modern Turkish literature. Kemal was hailed by his contemporaries as the greatest writer of the age (edib-i azam) and by subsequent generations as the poet of the patria (vatan şairi), solidifying his enduring image as the founding father of modern Turkish literature (Faik Reşad; Kısakürek). What were the reasons for the work’s great significance?
A sense of urgency of the rapidly approaching end of the empire was most keenly felt in the second half of the nineteenth century. The Imperial Edict of Reorganization (Tanzimat Fermanı) of 1839, proclaimed the year before Kemal was born, set in motion a series of political and economic reforms for the transition to a modern state. The proclamation of the Reform Edict (Islahat Fermanı) in 1856 went further in introducing legal, religious, educational, and moral reforms that emphasized equality, freedom, material progress, and rational enlightenment. Ten years later, Kemal would write his essay, drawing attention to these values in the literary sphere. In the wake of these state-led experiments in modernization, Ottoman writers and intellectuals began a concerted effort to regenerate the art and language of the Ottoman Empire to represent the changing society and reflect the beginning of a new age. The first task was to develop a national literature on par with the well-established modern European traditions—not only to bear witness to modernizing reforms but also to produce and sustain them. Central to this era were debates on linguistic simplification, education, the reform of literary language, cultural authenticity, and translation and adaptation, which made up a large part of the country’s literary and critical production.
In line with this historical trajectory, the 1860s were marked by four important events in the history of Ottoman Turkish language and literature, all part of what Nergis Ertürk calls “the generalization of the communications revolution” (36). In September 1860, the first fully privately owned Ottoman Turkish newspaper, İbrahim Şinasi’s Tercüman-ı Ahvâl (Interpreter of the Times), appeared in a simplified register. This marked the emergence not only of a new public sphere but also of an increasingly simplified and standardized national language. The second event was the increased activity in translating and publishing European literature. The masters of the serial novel and romantic literature, such as Victor Hugo, Daniel Defoe, Alexandre Dumas, and Eugène Sue, all appeared in translation during this decade. The third event was the first public debate on linguistic simplification and orthography in 1864, to which Kemal refers in his essay. Finally, as the argument about the incompatibility of Turkish and Arabic-Persian compounds and orthography gained traction, calls for vernacularization and simplification in written communication found an answer in the 1869 Statute on General Education (Maârif-i Umûmiye Nizamnâmesi). This educational reform replaced the classical pedagogy with a modern system. All these developments form the backdrop of Kemal’s essay and inform his perspectives on Ottoman language and literature.
How to speak about literature became a central concern during this period. Intellectuals sought to develop a critical voice to innovate, modernize, and reform Ottoman culture. Kemal was the first author to give voice to this concern in a systematic manner. The development of a distinct national literature and language was essential for the formation of a strong nation-state, Kemal argues, particularly in the face of powerful Western nations, which represented a model for modernization. The Ottoman language, however, suffered from what he calls the “affliction of dualism,” which arose not only from the gap between spoken and written language but also from the incongruity between the Turkish language and its Arabic and Persian components. This affliction resulted in a lack of correspondence between word and meaning, and ultimately in a literary language that failed to convey an authentic Ottoman reality. The essay lays the groundwork for modern Ottoman Turkish literature as a discipline, a national institution, a textual repository, and part of a universal heritage. His prescriptions for the development of a national literature in the vernacular were realized in the following decades: a critical anthology of prose (Ebüzziyâ Tevfik’s Numûne-i Edebiyyât-ı Osmâniyye [1876; Anthology of Ottoman Literature]), a work of poetics specific to Turkish (Recâizâde Mahmud Ekrem’s Talim-i Edebiyat [1876; Instruction in Literature]), a grammar of the Ottoman language (Ahmet Cevdet’s Tertib-i Cedîd Kavâid-i Osmaniyye [1886; The New Ottoman Grammar]), and a thorough and complete Turkish dictionary, using the spoken language as a standard for establishing linguistic rules (Şemseddin Sâmi’s Kāmûs-ı Türkî [1899; Turkish Dictionary]) all followed Kemal’s manifesto.
The essay reorganizes Ottoman literary history and radically reimagines the nature and function of literature. It redefines literary value in keeping with modern aesthetics, favoring directly communicative, realistic, and secular representation. Kemal declares the linguistic artistry or poetic eloquence of classical literature obsolete, accusing the ancients of unrealistic imagery, exaggerated expression, and irrational content. The classical tradition, which Kemal had learned to admire as a young man, is not so much rejected as reframed, seen as the expression not of a timeless aesthetic doctrine but of its own century. The essay testifies to his commitment to the popularization of literature in the vernacular, promoting a less eloquent and more emotional, less elevated and more lifelike literary expression, no longer based on an elite linguistic authority. It is a promodernization text, a manifesto, driven both by the need for cultural self-preservation and by universalist principles based on humanist ideals of intellectual exchange and heritage. It is also important to recognize as part of its historical and political context Kemal’s strong advocacy for constitutional reform, freedom, and equality.Footnote 2 In this essay, Kemal attempts to develop an authoritative voice to counter that of the elite literati (havas) and the monarchy in order to spearhead changes in the social and political order. Only a year after the publication of this essay, Kemal’s advocacy for change led to a life of political exile that would ultimately culminate in his premature death in Rhodes in 1888, far from the intellectual and political climate he so passionately inspired with his work.
Human elements hasten to disappear
In a work left behind we persevere
Truly, if there is one blessing that can compensate for the fleetingness of life’s pleasures, it is the recovery of that which is lost and its offering as a gift to humanity. One thus becomes useful to humanity, which is indeed the true virtue of life.
Among the works of man, there is no souvenir more lasting than the word. For, even as the wheel of time razes to the ground countries known for their prosperity, a good couplet that lingers in memory is secured from loss, passing from the fascination of the ancestors to the safekeeping of their successors.
Indeed, words serve as vehicles for the exchange of ideas, and this exchange is related to universal civilization, which might be called the embodiment of humanity. As such, human existence requires the use of language, and its future is secured in good literature.
The fine substance of language is divinely bestowed upon us to circulate thought and vision. Even the passing of a thousand years cannot diminish its youthful freshness. To remain fresh, however, a linguistic utterance must have a sound meaning that reflects the dignified maturity of thought. Furthermore, it must have a well-formed figure. Only then can it be cherished by all and remain laudable and coveted forever.
One sometimes expresses a refined thought in a disagreeable form. While such cases do not necessarily point to a lack of literary proficiency, we should still insist that literary works have both sophisticated meaning and clear expression. For when a written work lacks style, it becomes an uncased gem: its truths can easily pass, through sly plagiarism, into the possession of other writers.
For human beings, it is inner refinement that is universal and enduring. External and physical beauty changes and thus is ephemeral. In contrast, in literary works, while meaning varies, it is form that lasts. By our nature, however, while we cannot change our inner selves, we seek beauty and pleasant expression. So, naturally, only when it combines authentic and sound meaning with fluent and clear expression does a work have lasting quality for us.
The proof of this is that in our century we have many works that attest to the educational progress of our age. In these works, men of contemplation who understand the nature of intellectual progress strongly criticize ancient philosophy to refute and reform that specter of human knowledge. In contrast, many men of letters, wise enough to know the power and virtues of language, instead write laudatory reviews of past literary works in which they merely expound and explain these conscientious products of previous ages.
In fact, in assessing the merits of literary gems, one scholar declares that a literary work’s permanence cannot be guaranteed by its purveyance of copious information or representation of strange incidents or even novelty. He then adds, “these are inessential to men; style, on the other hand, that is what is of essence to men.”Footnote 1
Those who leave a literary work behind therefore entrust their humanity, endowed with an eternal life, to other people. This bestows such honor on the benefactor of that trust that humankind will forever remember them. Even if the revolutions of the world efface the names of good writers from their gravestones, their names will live through their works.
There are other benefits to be derived from language and writing besides leaving a name behind. Language is also a powerful tool in executing one’s will. As world history has proved many times, the impact of rhetoric is such that it surpasses the curved blade of oppression in swaying opinions. Indeed, in the introduction to al-Kashshaf [The Unveiler], al-Zamakhshari states by way of affirming the power of kalām [“logos”] that “during the emergence of Islam, intolerant Arabs stood against the sword of the Sharia, but could not resist the eloquence of the Qurʾan.”Footnote 2 In fact, in places where public opinion holds sway in governance, an intelligent orator can become an influential leader without any need of military power.
Moreover, while literary knowledge is not required for civil service, composition as a branch of literature forms the basis of the production and circulation of documents. Thus, we can argue that literature is also essential for government.
By virtue of its rhetorical power in changing one’s conscience, another major benefit of language and writing is its contribution to public education. If the etymological origin of literature [edebiyat] is adab, then, from a semantic perspective, adab is disseminated through literature.Footnote 3 A literary work that embodies both senses of the term becomes an established reference for good conduct so that everybody willingly follows it and, as a result, it ensures the preservation of moral values.
Literature can also be deemed the primary instructor of the mind because of its role in broadening one’s intellect. For this reason, some scholars judge the progress of universal thought by the progress of literary language. Consider for a moment the fact that almost all the prominent philosophers, whose characters are worthy of praise, are men of letters from nations that improved and embellished their national languages in and through works of literature. If today complex scientific and worldly phenomena can be explained and taught with ease, it is thanks to the application of literary principles such as using clear, concise, and well-structured language. That is why literature should be among the principal subjects of education.
Moreover, unity is the living proof of a people’s civilizational progress, and literature is the language that expresses unity. From this perspective, a nation without literature is like a man without a tongue. If we critically review the history of universal civilization, we see that every developed nation understood the importance of literature for preserving their nationality. As an example, we can look at the Arabs; their governments and education are currently in decline. Some communities have even lost touch with Islam, which should be the binding link among them. Despite this, they have preserved their ethnicity thanks to the power of the Arabic language.
It is because of these many virtues of literature that it is regarded by all nations as a discipline of great value. Our esteem for literature is such that a well-made piece of writing is greatly exalted. Yet our literature unfortunately lacks almost all of the aforementioned qualities. Do we have any literary books that would be worthy of praise if they were stripped of their linguistic ornaments? When the sun of knowledge spreads its light everywhere and reveals the true nature of things, how can we hope to save our works, which are filled with fantasies beyond reality and nature, from ruin?
Common people cannot understand our literary language. Therefore, even if our political system encourages oration, it cannot use the power of rhetoric. In fact, our men of letters have not yet appreciated the importance of linguistic clarity for a simple dialogue, let alone for an oration.
Among our prose works, there is not one in which the ideas and expression are natural enough to impress on the reader’s nature and thus help improve public morality. As for our poetry, it is mostly filled with hypocritical exaggerations and ascetic spirit, inciting moral depravation instead of curbing it. If we were to look for proof that divan [“poetry collection”] is the plural form of dîv, which means “Satan” according to new Persian dictionaries, we could easily show our poetry collections.
This is because meaning has long been sacrificed for the sake of linguistic artistry. Consequently, the reach of the imagination has gone so far that it can no longer be contained within the bounds of thought. What else but harm could such works bring to the mind, the primary objective of which is to discern truth?
Since literary works, let alone scientific ones, have not been properly compiled in Turkish, it is not possible for men of letters to compose a correct sentence without wasting most of their education by learning Arabic, Persian, and other languages. If all this effort were to be exerted toward other fields of learning, an intelligent person would become a polymath. Admittedly, in this age, eloquent nations are not exempt from the need to train in ancient languages that form the source of their literary language and vocabulary. For us, one can write a grammatically and semantically correct letter only after six or seven years of training in Arabic and Persian. Such is the great damage done to public education by our language.
We are also deprived of the use of literature to promote national unity. Consider the Arabic language: in places where it was disseminated, with its rhetorical supremacy, it overpowered even Greek, a language that had accrued strength thanks to all its scholarly works. In contrast, our Turkish could not even displace languages without alphabets such as Albanian and Lazuri. Because of the lack of literary interaction, for instance, a Bukharan, despite speaking Turkish, cannot find among Turks a person who can understand him even as well as a Frenchman would.
Of literates in Istanbul, perhaps one in ten is capable of comprehending a normally phrased piece of writing or even a state law that guarantees their rights. And the reason is that our literature is overcome with locutions borrowed from several foreign languages of the East and the West, damaging the structure of expression. As a result, the style of composition has deviated from spoken language in its use of particles, in phrasing, and in diction, almost becoming a language of its own. This is true to such an extent that some men of letters would be ashamed to speak as they write or write as they speak. But if one is to feel shame, it should be because of this dualism. In exchanging ideas, we contrive a manner of writing exclusively for the pen, which is different from the language that originates the thought itself.
Because of this affliction of dualism, it is difficult to find a work free from linguistic errors in our language. Such errors result from the difference between abstract rules and established usage, which further complicates the process of establishing linguistic clarity. The journal Tasvir-i Efkar, for instance, was compelled to publish lengthy discussions in order to prove to the public, despite its obviousness, the faultiness of the usage of the well-known expression “mebhûsetün anhâ.”Footnote 4 The style of the written language, for which we sacrifice the spoken idiom, is so strange that its mere mention causes despair in those with a modicum of literary taste. For that reason, it is worth giving here a concise discussion of our language problem.
First, some words that express conjecture and supposition have been used to suggest surety and certainty. And over time, they have lost their authority and power, so that it is no longer possible to articulate thoughts in subtle and intricate ways.
Foreign phraseology is so prevalent in our language that it is more difficult to extract meaning from one of our well-known literary works, such as that of Nergisî, than to understand Gulistān, a work written in a foreign language.Footnote 5 This foreign phraseology persists because the three languages that make up Ottoman Turkish, while coalescing to a great degree in speech, still retain their original forms in writing.Footnote 6 Like the Holy Trinity, they are seemingly uniform but essentially different.
In terms of style, we deem it inappropriate to allow pauses in discourse when explaining a matter in great detail. This results in sentences following one after another like black waves, turning into a dreadful vortex that drowns the mind in anguish.
Furthermore, in our literary works, since the primary objective is to display linguistic artistry and embellishment, meaning, which should form the body of the discourse, instead resembles the wooden sticks used to display clothing items on sale.
What’s more, since the use of hyperbole has exceeded all bounds, our literary works lack natural charm as well as truthfulness.
(An aside: This argument only applies to literary style; it should not be considered an attack on past writers. Despite their deficiency, the works of preceding poets speak to their level of maturity. A writer who lived in the early stages of universal civilization might have had the gift of inventiveness and written unrealistic works; this does not diminish his literary power, just as the divine power is not demeaned by the lack of harmony found in the early stages of creation.)
To return to the subject of this discussion, our Turkish deserves to be considered among the top languages in the world by virtue of its potential qualities. Like a museum organized for displaying nature’s praiseworthy properties, the ground of expression of the Turkish language combines the natural products of three great regions. As our mind flirts around to give form to ideas, Turkish can blend the intellectual fruits of Arab deserts with the literary flowers of Rum and Persian meadows and, thus, adorn its bouquet of expression at its own sweet will.
As for the Turkish-speaking people, they live in a golden part of the earth: its skies are unmatched in beauty. And the resounding waves of its seas bend into feathery clouds of spring morning, looking like polished mirrors crafted from heavenly matter. How rare it is that nature brings its two types of artistry, subjective and objective, together in the same place!
In our literature, therefore, the beauties of three languages are merged and the mature mind of our time is married to the pristine imagination of our land. Consider, then, the heights our literary works should reach to be rightfully deemed the products of this environment!
To sum up, is not our literature among the areas of deficiency that require reform? If so, in my humble opinion, there are a few ways to reform it: the first is to compile and organize a faultless grammar of the language; the second is to map out our vocabulary in line with the established patterns of use; the third is to lend unity to the components of the language in terms of spelling and semantics; the fourth is to revise and renew the written and spoken styles in accordance with the nature of the language itself; and the fifth is to free the language from cumbersome linguistic artistry blocking its naturally pleasant expression.
This is how these five means of reform can be achieved:
The first step is to revise and complete Kavaid-i Osmaniye, our existing grammar, to standardize it and teach it before Arabic and Persian grammars and sample texts.Footnote 7 If one receives literary education in a foreign language, their works, written in their own language, cannot escape the suspicion of imitation. It goes without saying that renewal means innovation.
The second is to compile a well-prepared and complete dictionary of Turkish. Such a need has been publicly felt for some time now. In fact, there have been a couple of attempts to combine Kamus and Burhan into a new dictionary organized in alphabetical order.Footnote 8
According to the claims made in Tasvir-i Efkar, if one nation’s idiosyncrasies cannot apply to another, then dictionaries compiled for Arabs and Persians, regardless of how they are reorganized, cannot be accepted as the standard of eloquence and fluency for Turkish. Such a dictionary would be inadequate because it would not include Turkish, the primary component of the Ottoman language and the language of current scientific terminology, which reflects the progress of our age. Moreover, we decline Arabic vocabulary in many forms (including but not limited to verbal nouns; active participles; past participles; stative adjectives; adverbs of time and place; nouns of instrument; hyperbolic, superlative, comparative, and diminutive adjectives; and sometimes past and present tenses) and inflect each form in accordance with number and gender or as a geminated verb. The method followed by Kamus is to record the root word and then list exceptional cases that do not conform to the primary meaning or established forms of the word.Footnote 9 Now, let us imagine that Kamus is reorganized alphabetically. Someone without a knowledge of Arabic will still be unable to find a word from its declension and different forms in use. Then, what help will this new solution offer other than eliminating the need to search a few hundred dictionaries?
In addition, there are many Arabic or Persian words that are known in Ottoman Turkish in only a few of their senses, while Kamus or Burhan give their countless and contradictory definitions. That being the case, what could a dictionary that combines these two languages offer Turkish speakers other than to muddy their minds?
What’s more, why should we further enable lexical anomalies, which are one of the biggest causes of our literature’s deficiency, by preserving many unused Arabic and Persian words in an Ottoman dictionary?
For these reasons, the idea of procuring a Turkish dictionary out of Kamus and Burhan by changing their organization is absolutely unviable. That would be like trying to incorporate Arabs and Persians into the Turkish nation by making them wear fezzes. If a dictionary is to be compiled for Ottomans, it should be in line with their needs.
The third step entails choosing established usages or what is called popular linguistic errors over their correct or primary variants. This results from the demand shown by men of letters. In fact, our language’s progress in this matter is due to the effort of a few reformist writers like Akif Pasha.
As the fourth step, we should assemble and teach in schools a critical anthology of writing chosen from existing works that possess naturally pleasant expression. One can find many examples among the works of past and current writers like Akif Pasha and the historian Naima. Veysi would be a good example in prose and Nef’i in poetry, especially if we exclude some of their works written in outdated styles with extreme hyperboles and lexical anomalies. However, among us, what is understood by prose is the style of composition favored among state officials—a misconception that has become a generally accepted principle and a deceptive presumption. As long as state officials favor the current prose style, its renewal is not possible.
As a final remedy, we need an instructional text on balāgha, the Islamic science of eloquence, written specifically for our language. It is generally assumed that for those who attempt to produce such a work, discussing rhetorical arts will create some level of discord. The reason is that some men of letters known for literary taste desire the continuity of the rhetorical arts, while others cannot tolerate them. The former opinion stems from a fascination with Arabic works, while the latter is induced by European ideas. Indeed, eloquent expression is charming in and of itself. Comparing it to aesthetic embellishments would be like comparing internal goodness to external ornaments. Nevertheless, in Arabic, which constitutes the biggest component of our language, lexical forms are completely established. It is perhaps possible to adorn the literary works of Turkish without sacrificing its pleasant simplicity. It is also more difficult to compose a beautiful work of literature free from artistic devices like rhymed prose and parallel meter. Why, then, should we condone limiting our sphere of expression to the imitation of foreign languages? If a meaning is pleasing, who would not accept its style of expression? As long as, of course, the original nature of the subject at hand is not wiped out by the use of cumbersome anomalies. Does not everything look good on a beautiful woman? Other than, perhaps, certain crimes of beautification that could only be liked by those street coiffeurs with no taste—crimes like certain colorful face powders and golden or silver hair leaves that render common brides grotesque?
According to a well-known French essayist, just as every man of intelligence and decorum dresses not to embellish but to cover himself, a man of letters should use words not to decorate his language but to expound his ideas.Footnote 10 Personally, I think, just as tasteful dress in accordance with convention does not amplify or diminish the contrast between our internal selves and external appearance, so some linguistic embellishment that does not transgress the bounds of natural expression does not harm the charm of the discourse. Nor does it bring any substantial change to its fluency and clarity.
Therefore, there is no need to banish the rhetorical arts from our language. We must align our literature with the following dictum: “the most propitious word is the one that is understood by the public by virtue of its simplicity and appreciated by the select for its truth.”Footnote 11 This can be achieved by ending the impact of Persian style on our language. This is how our works can be saved from faults like exaggeration and obscurity, which are inimical to truth and hostile to nature. As those of you familiar with it know, most Persian writing resembles its painting. Just as the colors are delightful in the latter, so are words radiant in the former. One is unsuitable for illustration and the other for discourse, since both are in conflict with nature. In fact, if we look at a Persian illustration, we see that the moustache of a stalwart man is longer than his spear; and if we look at a panegyric poem a spear’s length seems longer than the abstract distance between the moon [mah] and a fish [mahi]. In this age of civilization in which knowledge has reached its peak, how can men of literary taste consider such devisers of dreadful images to be their like-minded fellows? Could there be any mature man on earth who could enjoy listening to these ghoulish tales?
A final declaration on style:
Exaggeration is acceptable if it is logically probable and conventional. (We call this type of exaggeration “teblig.”)
It is tolerable if it is logically probable but contrary to convention. (We call this “igrak.”)
It is aberrant if it is logically and conventionally improbable without any possibility of redirecting it to the second level. (This degree of exaggeration is called “gulüvv.”) The justification for the use of the third level of exaggeration, if there is any, arises from an understanding that does not follow natural proportions. Such a use would mean going against and surpassing the works of the Divine Power. Whoever makes such a claim is not a man of morals.
Let us come to the conclusion. To achieve this reform, what is needed in our nation is intellectual progress. To lay the groundwork, it is necessary to establish one or two major associations that will bring the aforementioned conjectural measures into reality. These associations should be formed by men of letters who enrich their good taste with the jewels of knowledge. And the needs of these associations should be supplied by the state.
Unlike its European counterparts, however, such an association should not regard the dictionary that it is going to compile as the word of the Qurʾan or the principles and examples that it lays down as the decrees of the Sharia. If it does, it can perhaps renew our literature as desired; but since it will limit the public sphere to the character and knowledge of forty or fifty people, it might do more harm than good. The duty of such associations is not to rule over the men of letters, but to serve them. Among current literary values, freedom holds great importance. In fact, because they are not bound to anyone’s authority, the entirety of literati is now called “a republic of letters.”
Given this context, whoever draws attention to the measures required for such a lofty objective as reforming our language, which evidences our nation’s power of speech, there is no doubt, will become a reformer whose good name will be forever commemorated. Such an honor of course befits the state more than anyone else.
