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Reading Turks’ minds through ‘Valley’
Experts agree that TV series “Valley of the Wolves,” despite some redeeming qualities, sets a bad example for teenagers with frequent violence and the lack of any demonstration of post-crime remorse. Nothing worked. Due to the violent content of the series, I tried to keep my son away from the television on Thursdays, when my husband, who is normally committed to playing with our son after work, was hypnotized by the “Valley of the Wolves, Ambush” series.
Eventually, I found the solution to be to knock on the door of my next-door neighbor, who was kind of suffering from the same mania, with my son and some slices of cake in hand.
But what is it that draws him and his fellow workers to the series, so much so that Fridays were full of dialogue from the last episode of “Valley”? “The Valley of the Wolves, Ambush,” which will wrap up this Thursday, usually gets the highest ratings, including its re-runs. “It is themselves who they find so appealing in the series; it is their lives and their souls that they find,” says psychiatrist and associate professor Erol Göka, chosen “Intellectual of the Year” in 2006 by the Writers Union of Turkey with his book “The Psychology of Turks.”
“The series is incredibly successful in dealing with the setting, characters and action, and it sums up the state of the emotions of our people very well. The work of fiction also does a good job in making enemies,” says Göka, who also heads the psychiatry clinic of Ankara Numune Hospital.
On that point, İlham Khalilov, a psychologist from the Zen counseling center in İstanbul, agrees with Dr. Göka. “Every character is depicted with a particular feature. For example, İskender, the narcissistic head of an unknown power, has been portrayed so well that his character comes through even in the language he uses.” The characters even evolve as we do in real life, says Khalilov, pointing to Abdulhey, the manliest man, the bravest heart of all, the one no one can catch smiling, as an example. “He was more masculine at the beginning of the series. Now he has turned into someone else.”
Khalilov also links the obsession with strong, masculine characters -- portrayed so well by protagonists Polat, Memati and others -- with the lack of an authority figure at home. In Turkey, he argues, as the father is usually at work, a dependent relationship between the mother and child exists. “For this reason the father figure is usually not prominent in the family, leading the child to look for an authority figure outside of home.” But the argument does not apply to adult men, Khalilov says.
The two experts share the same view on whether the series would ever become a bad example for teenage boys -- who are already busy building an identity and simultaneously trying to adapt to changes brought about by puberty -- because it is a frequent scene of violence in which people kill with no trace of regret on their face. That fact alone would give a false idea to a young mind that killing a person is not serious and that guns are not that harmful after all. Psychologist Khalilov plays down this option but says there are exceptions. Only mentally imbalanced individuals would be motivated by a work of fiction -- say, a movie or a story -- according to him. A healthy adult male can easily differentiate between fiction and reality, and that is the case with “Valley,” Dr. Göka believes.
The series tells the story of an intelligence officer, Polat, whose mission, given to him by men from the deep state, is to infiltrate a gang in order to get rid of it. He then ends up establishing his own gang because of corruption in the system that once employed him. Throughout this entire story, the men in his gang are depicted as heroes in terms of their loyalty to Polat, though their human side is portrayed at times. This characterization of the men as having flaws makes the series likeable, says Khalilov.
A disturbing question, though, continues to bother the mind. It is of no harm to adult men, but what about teenagers struggling to find role models and dealing with raging hormones? That is, would the series have played into the wicked hands of those who want to use the young in their ill-intentioned scenarios like assassinations of prominent public figures such as slain journalist Hrant Dink? The Turkish-Armenian journalist was murdered by a 17-year-old who was later found to have links to a gang. Dr. Göka disagrees with this argument, voiced by many. He even goes further by saying: “No, I don’t agree with that at all. We cannot judge a whole nation by the crimes of a few punks -- That is a crime bigger than crime itself.” What he says then is remarkable: “A Turk’s mind doesn’t understand racism. Though Turks are a warrior community, as all historians agree, they are the nation which has the greatest tolerance in the world.”
Khalilov sees a connection between the socioeconomic background and gangs. “Children of less educated and less wealthy parents are more likely to be involved in gangs. A teenager who lacks those things would look for wealth and power outside his or her family,” Khalilov says.
Göka, who deals with the community psychology of Turks in his book “The Psychology of Turks,” discusses the argument that it addresses Turks’ need for guns and that it is for that reason popular among a nation famous for its gift of forming armies. What he says is nothing new: Turks are a military society. “The well-known trio, ‘At-Avrat-Silah,’ [Horse-Woman-Gun] is of great importance in our ‘historical psychology.’ The point is that it is not only the weapons, but also our ‘warrior state of mind.’ I do not know how other societies are, but Turks are like that. And we can never analyze anything correctly without realizing this feature of ours. Turks are well known in history for their warrior features. Turks, fighting without gender discrimination, fought not only for their nation; they were employed as warriors by other nations’ armies because of their well-established war tactics. Therefore it is not this relation between Turks and guns which make ‘Valley’ a must-see on Tuesdays,” Göka says, giving another perspective on Turkey’s “deep state.” “The major part of the success of the series lies in the fact that it can make us ask questions about some issues in order for them to come under the spotlight in a country in which a great deal of secret and suspicious business has taken place.” “To some extent, it helps to calm our paranoia [or the skeptic within].”
On the other hand, Zekayi Altun, a fan of the series, says, “I don’t think it is about the guns.” What he finds so spellbinding in “Valley” is its scenario, which ties the latest developments in Turkey with fiction. He also dismissed the idea of guns being a “bad example” by invoking Memati’s drug problem. Memati, a picture-perfect example of a strong man in the series with his courage, is forced to use drugs during his captivity by the antagonists of the series. Polat then comes to his rescue, but by then, Memati is already a drug addict. On that point, Polat’s father, a mosque preacher, tries to encourage him to quit. The pious man functions as a messenger throughout the series, says Polat. Therefore, the series can balance its violence with a message about the results of the guns.” He adds: “For instance, in the latest episode, at least 10 minutes were spent explaining the harms of drugs. I am sure those with a tendency to imitate the crimes in the series also take their cues from what Polat’s father, who is even good to his enemy, preaches and models with his role.”
The series’ fans are not all men. Fatma Yeler, 85, used to watch it when Elif, Polat’s ill-fated lover in the series’ first season, was alive. The scriptwriter killed her in a tragic car accident. “They fight less and are less entertaining,” Yeler says. “They have not filled the gap that Elif’s absence has left,” says another former fan, Nevin Öztürk, a 40-year-old housewife from one of İstanbul’s upscale districts.
The series is rated “seven and above” by the Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK). I ask Zekayi if his wife and young daughter watch it. “No,” he says. The series’ season finale is this Thursday. Though the questions asked above still remain unanswered, there is something for sure: Zekayi’s wife, children and I will finally catch a breather from this show this summer.
Read the bold
Reading Turks’ minds through ‘Valley’
Experts agree that TV series “Valley of the Wolves,” despite some redeeming qualities, sets a bad example for teenagers with frequent violence and the lack of any demonstration of post-crime remorse. Nothing worked. Due to the violent content of the series, I tried to keep my son away from the television on Thursdays, when my husband, who is normally committed to playing with our son after work, was hypnotized by the “Valley of the Wolves, Ambush” series.
Eventually, I found the solution to be to knock on the door of my next-door neighbor, who was kind of suffering from the same mania, with my son and some slices of cake in hand.
But what is it that draws him and his fellow workers to the series, so much so that Fridays were full of dialogue from the last episode of “Valley”? “The Valley of the Wolves, Ambush,” which will wrap up this Thursday, usually gets the highest ratings, including its re-runs. “It is themselves who they find so appealing in the series; it is their lives and their souls that they find,” says psychiatrist and associate professor Erol Göka, chosen “Intellectual of the Year” in 2006 by the Writers Union of Turkey with his book “The Psychology of Turks.”
“The series is incredibly successful in dealing with the setting, characters and action, and it sums up the state of the emotions of our people very well. The work of fiction also does a good job in making enemies,” says Göka, who also heads the psychiatry clinic of Ankara Numune Hospital.
On that point, İlham Khalilov, a psychologist from the Zen counseling center in İstanbul, agrees with Dr. Göka. “Every character is depicted with a particular feature. For example, İskender, the narcissistic head of an unknown power, has been portrayed so well that his character comes through even in the language he uses.” The characters even evolve as we do in real life, says Khalilov, pointing to Abdulhey, the manliest man, the bravest heart of all, the one no one can catch smiling, as an example. “He was more masculine at the beginning of the series. Now he has turned into someone else.”
Khalilov also links the obsession with strong, masculine characters -- portrayed so well by protagonists Polat, Memati and others -- with the lack of an authority figure at home. In Turkey, he argues, as the father is usually at work, a dependent relationship between the mother and child exists. “For this reason the father figure is usually not prominent in the family, leading the child to look for an authority figure outside of home.” But the argument does not apply to adult men, Khalilov says.
The two experts share the same view on whether the series would ever become a bad example for teenage boys -- who are already busy building an identity and simultaneously trying to adapt to changes brought about by puberty -- because it is a frequent scene of violence in which people kill with no trace of regret on their face. That fact alone would give a false idea to a young mind that killing a person is not serious and that guns are not that harmful after all. Psychologist Khalilov plays down this option but says there are exceptions. Only mentally imbalanced individuals would be motivated by a work of fiction -- say, a movie or a story -- according to him. A healthy adult male can easily differentiate between fiction and reality, and that is the case with “Valley,” Dr. Göka believes.
The series tells the story of an intelligence officer, Polat, whose mission, given to him by men from the deep state, is to infiltrate a gang in order to get rid of it. He then ends up establishing his own gang because of corruption in the system that once employed him. Throughout this entire story, the men in his gang are depicted as heroes in terms of their loyalty to Polat, though their human side is portrayed at times. This characterization of the men as having flaws makes the series likeable, says Khalilov.
A disturbing question, though, continues to bother the mind. It is of no harm to adult men, but what about teenagers struggling to find role models and dealing with raging hormones? That is, would the series have played into the wicked hands of those who want to use the young in their ill-intentioned scenarios like assassinations of prominent public figures such as slain journalist Hrant Dink? The Turkish-Armenian journalist was murdered by a 17-year-old who was later found to have links to a gang. Dr. Göka disagrees with this argument, voiced by many. He even goes further by saying: “No, I don’t agree with that at all. We cannot judge a whole nation by the crimes of a few punks -- That is a crime bigger than crime itself.” What he says then is remarkable: “A Turk’s mind doesn’t understand racism. Though Turks are a warrior community, as all historians agree, they are the nation which has the greatest tolerance in the world.”
Khalilov sees a connection between the socioeconomic background and gangs. “Children of less educated and less wealthy parents are more likely to be involved in gangs. A teenager who lacks those things would look for wealth and power outside his or her family,” Khalilov says.
Göka, who deals with the community psychology of Turks in his book “The Psychology of Turks,” discusses the argument that it addresses Turks’ need for guns and that it is for that reason popular among a nation famous for its gift of forming armies. What he says is nothing new: Turks are a military society. “The well-known trio, ‘At-Avrat-Silah,’ [Horse-Woman-Gun] is of great importance in our ‘historical psychology.’ The point is that it is not only the weapons, but also our ‘warrior state of mind.’ I do not know how other societies are, but Turks are like that. And we can never analyze anything correctly without realizing this feature of ours. Turks are well known in history for their warrior features. Turks, fighting without gender discrimination, fought not only for their nation; they were employed as warriors by other nations’ armies because of their well-established war tactics. Therefore it is not this relation between Turks and guns which make ‘Valley’ a must-see on Tuesdays,” Göka says, giving another perspective on Turkey’s “deep state.” “The major part of the success of the series lies in the fact that it can make us ask questions about some issues in order for them to come under the spotlight in a country in which a great deal of secret and suspicious business has taken place.” “To some extent, it helps to calm our paranoia [or the skeptic within].”
On the other hand, Zekayi Altun, a fan of the series, says, “I don’t think it is about the guns.” What he finds so spellbinding in “Valley” is its scenario, which ties the latest developments in Turkey with fiction. He also dismissed the idea of guns being a “bad example” by invoking Memati’s drug problem. Memati, a picture-perfect example of a strong man in the series with his courage, is forced to use drugs during his captivity by the antagonists of the series. Polat then comes to his rescue, but by then, Memati is already a drug addict. On that point, Polat’s father, a mosque preacher, tries to encourage him to quit. The pious man functions as a messenger throughout the series, says Polat. Therefore, the series can balance its violence with a message about the results of the guns.” He adds: “For instance, in the latest episode, at least 10 minutes were spent explaining the harms of drugs. I am sure those with a tendency to imitate the crimes in the series also take their cues from what Polat’s father, who is even good to his enemy, preaches and models with his role.”
The series’ fans are not all men. Fatma Yeler, 85, used to watch it when Elif, Polat’s ill-fated lover in the series’ first season, was alive. The scriptwriter killed her in a tragic car accident. “They fight less and are less entertaining,” Yeler says. “They have not filled the gap that Elif’s absence has left,” says another former fan, Nevin Öztürk, a 40-year-old housewife from one of İstanbul’s upscale districts.
The series is rated “seven and above” by the Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK). I ask Zekayi if his wife and young daughter watch it. “No,” he says. The series’ season finale is this Thursday. Though the questions asked above still remain unanswered, there is something for sure: Zekayi’s wife, children and I will finally catch a breather from this show this summer.
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