Translated from Cins Dergi, a monthly culture magazine published in Turkey.
Interviewer: We actually came to know you mostly through your work Islam and the West. Later, you became known as the Prime Minister’s chief advisor, and today as the Presidential Spokesperson. It’s not hard to imagine how busy your schedule must be. Yet, despite that, you’ve published numerous translations, research works, and original writings—many of which would normally take years even if one were only writing full time. Let me begin with the question everyone is curious about: even for your latest book I, the Other and Beyond, one would need to retreat for at least several years. What’s the secret behind this? We’d love to apply it ourselves…
Kalın: It’s essential to use time with discipline. I have a reading and working discipline that goes back to my university years, and I try to apply it effectively in my official duties. I avoid idle activities. I follow television, the internet, and social media only when necessary and mostly for work-related purposes.
There is a saying: “If you want something done quickly, give it to a busy person.” “There’s no time” is often little more than an excuse. If a person knows what they want to do and is persistent, they can accomplish a significant portion of their goals. In that case, lack of time doesn’t become an obstacle—it becomes an opportunity. Time is one of the greatest blessings given to humanity. We must appreciate its value and use it wisely.
We’ve forgotten the concept of the blessing of time in the modern world. We’ve fallen into the illusion that all hours of the day carry equal weight. In fact, every part of the day—morning, midmorning, noon, afternoon, night—has its own rhythm, its own taste, its own blessing. How you use each segment of time is of utmost importance.
Interviewer: There also seems to be something about a multidisciplinary approach here. You’re a history graduate. You’ve written works on politics and philosophy, and you’ve translated texts on Sufism. You’re one of the rare intellectuals who understands both Western and Islamic philosophy. You also have a connection with music…
Kalın: It’s very important for a person to cultivate themselves in a multidimensional way and nourish their mind from various sources. The core prototype of our civilizational tradition is based on polymaths.
People who are gifted in multiple areas, who have command over different disciplines, who can engage with various aspects of life and produce a reasonable, legitimate, and productive synthesis from all of this—these are the types of individuals who formed the cultural and intellectual environment of Islamic civilization.
Farabi was not only a great philosopher, logician, and political thinker, but also a musician. Ibn Sina was known as the prince of philosophers and was also an exceptional physician. Ibn Rushd was both a philosopher and a distinguished jurist and judge in Cordoba. Nearly all of the Ottoman sultans were poets. Many of them were also skilled in music, calligraphy, illumination, carpentry, hunting, and similar arts.
Hezarfen Ahmet Çelebi, Mimar Sinan, Matrakçı Nasuh, Dede Efendi, Kazasker Mustafa Izzet Efendi, and Ahmet Cevdet Pasha—these great figures of our civilization should be seen as manifestations of this deep and expansive worldview.
Long before the West coined the term “Renaissance man,” Muslim scholars, administrators, commanders, travelers, architects, poets, and musicians were already building a world civilization as polymaths. We need to remember and revive the rich, multifaceted legacy of our own civilization.
Interviewer: We’ve also heard that around the time you were preparing to go abroad for your doctorate, you received an offer from Fenerbahçe Sports Club. This isn’t widely known by the public—apparently, you were a professional basketball player.
Kalın: I played basketball on my high school team, and continued during university. I spent some time in Fenerbahçe’s youth development program. I believe I was in my second year of university at the time. Eventually, I had to choose between school and sports, as practices and games were beginning to take up a significant amount of time. Naturally, I chose university—and I’ve never regretted it. I made up for it by continuing to play basketball. While doing my doctorate in the United States, I played street basketball. We played tough matches with very good players—African Americans, Latinos, Asians, Bosnians, and others from various backgrounds. Even today, we have a solid basketball team, and when time allows, we play once a week. Just like our soul, our body is also a trust given to us. We must honor and take care of the trusts we’ve been given.
“There is beauty in order, and order in what is beautiful.”
Interviewer: Though today we’re often surprised when someone embodies multiple disciplines or pursuits, as you mentioned, this was actually common among classical scholars in our tradition. Hoping to find at least one field you’re not involved in—do you have any interest in cosmology, for instance?
Kalın: God has bestowed upon us many blessings—intellect and talents among them. If we can use them properly, there’s much we can accomplish. We must reject the “average person” model that modern consumer culture tries to impose on us.
• Those who exist solely to consume—who are turned into objects of a culture of entertainment and pleasure—don’t, and often can’t, pursue self-development across different fields.
Just as unhealthy food harms the body, feeding the mind and soul from corrupted sources weakens and sickens them over time. Our intellectual and spiritual security is no less important than our physical well-being. The beauty of our mind and soul is more significant than the car we drive, the house we live in, or the clothes we wear. And it is this inner beauty, which we carry, nourish, and cultivate, that gives meaning and aesthetics to all of these things. We must protect, nourish, and develop it as a sacred trust.
A person should never let the evils of the world darken their inner world.
While drawing from different disciplines, we must never lose sight of the perspective of tawhid—unity. The principle of “unity in multiplicity” is not only a metaphysical idea but also a political, cultural, aesthetic, and intellectual one.
Perceiving and understanding the meaning underlying the infinite variety of forms—and expressing that meaning, that unity and wholeness, through intellectual and artistic tools—these should be the guiding principles of our journey in knowledge and art.
Yes, I’m also interested in cosmology, but not just physical cosmology. I try to keep up with modern cosmological theories. As Koyré put it, we need to properly understand the transition from a “closed world” to an “infinite universe.”
But reducing cosmology—the study of order and beauty in the universe—to merely the physical attributes of things is to sacrifice meaning for form. The word cosmos means both “order” and “beauty.” Even the word cosmetic, which has lost much of its original meaning today, comes from the same root. There is beauty in order, and order in what is beautiful.
This is a subject I tried to explore a bit in Reason and Virtue: how can something possess both order and beauty simultaneously, and where does this fit in our quest for meaning and freedom?
To put it another way: how can we have a just and beautiful order without eliminating our pursuit of meaning and freedom?
This is one of the dichotomies modernity presents us with—that in order to be free, we must abandon meaning. In the Weberian sense, being free means making choices completely detached from any constraint, boundary, or context—based solely on personal desire and the freedom to choose.
This understanding of freedom has led to a major crisis of meaning in the modern era and has fueled nihilism. But in seeking a meaningful and moral life, we don’t have to give up our freedoms.
Freedom itself is a great blessing granted to us. However, the mere freedom to choose—when devoid of meaning, virtue, and purpose—does not truly make us free. On the contrary, it can enslave us to other things: desires, instincts, animalistic impulses, consumerism, material goods, capitalism, and so on.
In short, it is possible to live a life that is both meaningful and free. We can construct the intellectual, moral, aesthetic, and cosmological foundations for such a life. In this effort, symbolic and spiritual cosmology can offer significant contributions.
Interviewer: Beyond your books and public talks, we’re in touch with you through another avenue as well: music. It’s said that you make the bağlama “speak,” and your interpretations are remarkable. That in itself stands as a whole different discipline. We’ve also heard that you’re quite good at playing the guitar—and that during your time in the U.S., you even formed a band with some friends.
Kalın: My interest in music goes back to my high school years. I started out with the guitar, but once I held a bağlama in my hands, I never put it down again.
Folk music is one of the most refined expressions of our wisdom and philosophy of being human. It’s a mistake to view music as just a hobby or entertainment. Music is an art. It elevates souls that yearn to rise. People are drawn to music that reflects what already resides in their soul. Music can either open you up or close you off. Whatever lies hidden in the inner realm (bâtın) inevitably reveals itself on the outside (zâhir).
Music is a journey—a departure, a voyage. And just like any important and meaningful journey, it cannot be undertaken without direction, discipline, and a guide. For us, that guide is the Anatolian musical tradition. This profound body of wisdom—an irfani understanding of existence elevated to high art—has lived for over a thousand years and will continue to live on.
Without drawing from this great tradition, it is not possible to create anything authentic, serious, or lasting. But relying on tradition doesn’t mean blindly copying it or resting on its achievements. To keep a tradition alive, we must remain within it, lean on it, and yet strive to uncover “what has not yet been said.” That’s the kind of connection I try to cultivate through music.
Interviewer: Just as we’d love to explore your musical journey in more depth, we also want to touch on as many dimensions of your life as possible. So, with your permission, let’s move on. We know you’re also involved in photography on a more professional level. You travel all around the world for various programs—do you ever get the chance to step back and press the shutter?
Kalın: I truly love photography. It’s a deeply educational, enriching, and horizon-expanding art form. I’ve never claimed to be a photographer—but there was a time when I was seriously engaged with it. There were even moments when I asked myself, “Could I ever take photos like Ara Güler, İzzet Keribar, Ansel Adams, or Steve McCurry?” (laughs)
With effort and dedication, people can accomplish many things. Talent alone is never enough—you must give your labor its due. That principle is something I remind myself of in everything I do, whether it’s music, photography, scholarship, or public service.
These days, I don’t take photos as much as I used to. But sometimes I go out shooting with my daughters or with Harun Tan—or at least, we try to! I would say this: if someone wants to understand the importance of perspective, they should take up photography. Photography gives us clues about the subtle relationship between the visible (shahādah) and the unseen (ghayb). On a human level, what is visible and what is invisible depends on your point of view—on where you’re looking from.
Photography can also be incredibly instructive when it comes to understanding the ‘ālam al-khayāl—the imaginal world. This is a realm we’ve largely forgotten today, though it touches every moment of our lives. It lies somewhere between the visible and the invisible—between what is clearly manifest and what remains concealed. It consists of levels of being that we can sense but not mathematically express, realities we feel but cannot put into words. And this in-between realm makes up a vital dimension of the grand order of existence.
Art is, in a sense, the effort to discover and explore these intermediate levels of being.
Interviewer: We also know that you have a passion for collecting—especially when it comes to pens and prayer beads.
Kalın: Yes. I have a close friend and an expert guide in this area—İbrahim Tenekeci. He’s been a loyal companion in my modest journey with fountain pens and prayer beads. I don’t think I need to say more.
When it comes to pens, I must also mention Nabi Avcı. Beyond all his admirable qualities, he is someone who makes you fall in love with the pen, with paper, and with writing itself.
As for prayer beads, Mehmet Çebi deserves great credit. Through his work in reviving and reinterpreting traditional arts, he has made valuable contributions to the art of prayer beads as well.
Let me also add this: there are truly outstanding craftsmen in Türkiye today when it comes to prayer beads. The best method is to source materials—such as amber, precious stones, ebony, sandalwood, agarwood, snakewood, or tamarind—from abroad, and then have them crafted by Turkish masters.
My modest collection of fountain pens and prayer beads owes much to these dear friends.
Interviewer: Lastly, let us ask about your new work. Is there a book you’re currently writing—perhaps during hotel stays or long flights?
Kalın: There is. I’m currently working on a book about civilization. It’s a concept we often speak about, yet rarely understand deeply—either intellectually or spiritually. A concept with a wealth of perspectives, both for and against.
I’m trying to offer a framework that helps us better understand the civilizational tradition to which we belong, while also proposing a vision for today and tomorrow. I hope it will be in the same spirit and tone as Akıl ve Erdem (Reason and Virtue) and Ben, Öteki ve Ötesi (The Self, the Other, and the Beyond).
Every book is a journey.
I do have some ideas about the destination. But what we encounter along the road, where we begin and where we end up… What the reader ultimately takes from it—or doesn’t… All of that is hard to predict. But perhaps that’s what makes it so exciting.
May the Divine grant us all the wonder and thrill of dwelling in the maqam al-hayrah—the station of awe.
September – 2017
