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Sometimes, it feels like the past is constantly trailing behind us, never letting go. This feeling can emerge after a major event or even during a casual conversation. In these moments, you might suddenly grasp a realization or understanding that had slipped your mind or that you were never aware of. It’s surprising, and it can be unsettling. But in the end, there’s a sense of relief because you’ve connected the dots, and there’s comfort in finding a cause-and-effect link. I think you know the kind of moments I’m talking about.
In Thomas Mann’s classic novel “Doctor Faustus,” the narrator vividly experiences a familiar sensation as he reflects on his beloved friend, Adrian Leverkhün.
Leverkhün, a man blessed with talent and sharp wit, spends his childhood alongside the unnamed narrator in the fictional city of Kaisersaschern. This small German place, depicted as both mundane and an artistic hub, becomes the setting for the unfolding social and political problems. As their lives progress, the Faustian tale of the protagonist and his friend is meticulously woven together, and Kaisersaschern, according to the narrator, haunts them like a shadow throughout their destiny.
Despite Leverkhün’s musical genius, fate steers him toward theology near the end of his education. Yet the narrator believes this shift was driven by Kaisersaschern’s influence. With a mixture of sorrow and acceptance, he observes: “I told myself that we had both demonstrated we were products of the old Germanic milieu in which we had been raised. Although the scope of our new life had broadened, nothing essential had changed when I, the humanist, and he, the theologian, surveyed our surroundings.”
In this observation, we see how both friends’ fates are influenced by the culture in which they were raised. But does Mann, a vocal critic of Germany in his era, intentionally give this realization to the narrator? Whether or not that was his intent, it’s worth considering. This is because reflecting on the time and place of our birth can provide valuable insights into today’s challenges and even suggest immediate solutions.
Modern science, of course, has its say on this issue, as it does on nearly everything. However, we shouldn’t become fixated on it. When we look at children and youth in Gaza, for example, where education has halted, or in other war-torn or poverty-stricken areas where basic human needs go unmet, we clearly see how one’s birthplace shapes their future. It’s evident that long-term success and prosperity, with few exceptions like the “success stories” popularized in TED Talks, often come from specific backgrounds. Even a quick glance at daily news or reports from major institutions like the U.N., the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), the EU or think tanks like Brookings and Chatham House reveals the enduring impact of income inequality on human development.
Yet, I don’t wish to drown you in statistics or state the obvious – that would be tedious and a waste of time. From this perspective, let’s confront the ugly truth, but with a bittersweet touch.
We’ve all seen “The Godfather.” It’s not hard to analyze Michael Corleone’s drama in terms of birthplace and human relationships. A young, self-made, well-educated man with respectable social standing, Michael is a member of the Corleone family but tries to distance himself from their violent world. However, he soon finds himself drawn back into the very roots he sought to escape.
The Corleones are a Sicilian mafia family with significant power in the United States, and by the film’s end, Michael is surrounded by death, corruption and violence. Despite his efforts to avoid this fate, Michael ultimately replaces his father and becomes the Godfather. While often viewed as a cult mafia film, through this lens, “The Godfather” becomes a desperate and tragic drama about the inescapable pull of one’s origins.
In Turkish filmmaker Zeki Demirkubuz’s recently re-released drama “Hayat,” the relationship between the main character and her circumstances offers another tearful reflection of the haunting ties to birthplace. True to form, Demirkubuz challenges his audience, unafraid to confront uncomfortable truths.
The film follows Hicran, who, under pressure from her father, is forced into an engagement. She escapes her home, endures hardships in Istanbul and eventually confronts her fiance, Rıza. Throughout the narrative, Hicran is in a constant state of flight – fleeing from her father, her fiance, her friends, her struggles in Istanbul and even her child. In trying to escape these external forces, she is also attempting to flee from herself.
At first glance, the movie, Türkiye’s entry for “Best International Feature Film” at the 97th Academy Awards, may initially seem like a conventional exploration of “neighborhood pressure” – a theory popularized by the late sociologist Şerif Mardin; however, it goes deeper. “Neighborhood pressure,” meanwhile, refers to the social forces within communities that shape individuals’ behaviors and identities, often pushing them to conform to local norms and expectations, a phenomenon particularly evident in Türkiye, as loudly raised by Mardin.
Alone in the quiet greenery of her village, she breaks down in tears, seemingly accepting the inevitability of her fate. In the extended, tragic scene, Hicran, as brought to life by actress Miray Daner, weeps silently for several minutes.
No matter how far she runs, her fate shadows her every step. Much like Adam Smith’s “invisible hand” that guides markets, Hicran’s life is influenced by her origins, an invisible force she cannot escape.
‘My identity is geopolitical’
I asked Noor Eman, who left her homeland to pursue a university education in Türkiye, about her experiences and reflections.
“Does my homeland follow me like a ghost? In my case, my homeland is a part of me. Now, does it determine what becomes of me? I don’t know yet. It influences how I think, how I perceive things, and has made me empathetic. Maybe it has shaped my desires,” said Eman.
Eman, 21, comes from Kashmir, a region plagued by chronic conflict involving many major and minor powers, none of which have yet succeeded in finding a resolution. Life in Kashmir is fraught with difficulty, with frequent lockdowns, political tensions and economic hardship.
In her relatively short life, Eman has seen much that shapes her view of her birthplace and humanity. Before moving to Türkiye, she and her family relocated to Bangalore in search of better educational opportunities amid the instability in Kashmir.
“Bangalore marked a significant shift in my perspective on life. Attending school there, I saw a stark contrast in what I would call the priorities of a child,” Eman reflected.
“People saw me as mature, while I saw them as full of life. During the COVID-19 pandemic, while my classmates were panicking, I remained unbothered. Having already experienced multiple lockdowns, this one felt familiar – at least we had the internet and online classes. I completed my A-levels, packed up my life again and moved to Türkiye in pursuit of further education.”
“My identity is geopolitical, like every other Kashmiri’s; I didn’t have a say in that. I believe that environment is one of the most influential factors shaping who we become. Sure, intellect plays a role, but it takes time for intellect to develop, allowing one to understand, comprehend and then diagnose.”
It’s worth noting that Eman is a student of Political Science and International Relations at Istanbul Aydın University. Her choice of major seems rather fitting, doesn’t it?
“As a 21-year-old, I may be a bit young to talk about fate, but in my humble opinion, if we were to list the factors impacting our lives, our homeland would be quite high on it. We can alter our appearance, like changing the shape of our nose, but the traits we inherit are deeply rooted,” Eman says and adds: “Being in constant survival mode teaches you a few things. For me, it was dreaming. In my situation, it was either becoming a dreamer or letting my environment crush me.”
Our backgrounds, whether shaped by literary narratives, cinematic portrayals or real-life experiences like Eman’s education-oriented escape from conflict-ridden Kashmir to Türkiye, undeniably influence our destinies. While modern science and policy aim to mitigate these disparities, the undeniable truth is that our roots run deep, immensely affecting our paths.
At the end of the day, imagine a child in the Um Rakuba refugee camp, struggling to find food and water. Now, picture a child in a Los Angeles penthouse, complaining about the lag in their new iPhone 15 Pro Max while trying to load a game. The gap is huge.
Source
Emil Kovács graduated from the Journalism program at Eötvös Loránd University in Hungary. During his journalism studies, he focused on data journalism, investigative reporting, and multimedia storytelling. He gained experience by writing for the university’s student newspaper, where he gained attention for his articles on social issues. After graduation, Emil began working as a reporter at a European news agency, where he conducts in-depth analyses of international news and current events.
