Iron Heel

It was the summer of 1984 when I read Jack London's The Iron Heel. The subjects in the book had so intrigued me and had caused me to focus on the struggle of the working class with the employer class that I had come up with topics to think deeply about.

I remember very well that I came to the conclusion that the class struggle I read in the novel was actually a contradiction that could never be resolved. However, the contents of the book affected me far beyond being just a novel. I remember asking my father and mother questions at home because of the inexperience of being 13 years old and some concepts that had not yet settled in my mind. However, the most crucial question I asked was what profession I should choose in order to deal with the things described in the book.

At that time, my father, who was a faculty member at Istanbul Technical University’s Faculty of Business Administration, was my best resource. I remember very well that I took my first economics lesson from him at a dinner table. I also remember trying to understand concepts that seemed extremely abstract to me at the time, but I couldn’t figure it out. I also remember that I focused on these issues for a long time and tried to read every book and newspaper article I saw on topics related to social politics.

In the mid-1980s, I witnessed the September 12 coup, experienced the fear of a bomb banner exploding in front of me as I entered Istiklal Avenue, which was open to traffic at the time, from the Tünel side, heard about the changes that Gorbachev would likely create in the USSR from family discussions, and began to believe that I had an increasing interest in social issues. My adventure, which began with The Iron Heel, resulted in my decision to study economics. Then, Upton Sinclair's Chicago Slaughterhouses (The Jungle), and the books I read on Glasnost and Perestroika in the following years, brought me to a certain formation.

No one had any influence on my decision. My father also said that studying economics would not be the right thing to do, that studying engineering and doing a business master's would be much more beneficial. This idea bothered me for a while, but the result did not change. Thus, we both found ourselves as graduates of Kabataş Boys High School and Istanbul University Faculty of Economics. Moreover, despite all my father's efforts to prevent such a result.

I studied economics. Since I spent my childhood constantly on university campuses, a vein of academic perspectives emerged somewhere in my brain over time. I used to go to my mother’s law office a lot, but I was never affected by that environment. I used to say that if there was no mathematics and literature involved, then I was out. However, law, despite having a mathematical structure, did not make me experience mathematics itself, and in this respect it did not appeal to me. In addition, I did not want to do a job that included words such as izale-i şuyu, zilyedlik, ecrimisil, Sicilli Kavanin.

When I saw rows of files in courthouses and clerks smoking among those files, I had the idea that I should definitely avoid studying law. Although I discovered that I had wrong ideas, I never regretted this decision.

During my university years, while I was a chorister at the Istanbul State Opera and Ballet, I thought about studying at a conservatory, but since no one in my family had ever been involved in art professionally, I thought I wouldn't be able to get any support in the future. I gave up on the idea of a conservatory. Later, I thought that this idea of mine was also very wrong, but I didn't feel any regret, except for the momentary manifestations of my mood when I was very depressed.

Photo: Tunca Family archive.

Now, what I wrote above is just a memory. Today, sometimes at the dinner table, sometimes while having coffee or drinks, my father and I have a conversation. Of course, our topic is not always economics, but we often get into economics. When I was very young, I would sit on my father’s knees, curious about what he was doing, and try to understand what he was writing. I remember the rows of books in front of him, the light of only the study lamp, the hanging bookcase on his desk, his cigarettes, and myself from those days.

The Iron Heel is unforgettable in my life.