Aydın Tiryaki and Gemini AI

Television, cinema, and digital broadcasting serve not only as entertainment tools for a society but also as its cultural memory, common language, and aesthetic mirror. However, in recent years in Turkey, this mirror has been rendered so fragile and blurred by commercial ambitions and political interventions that the audience can no longer see its own reflection. From sterile series stripped of local codes to “trustee-like” interventions in scripts; from time theft in movie theaters to algorithmic mobbing on digital platforms, this process has reduced the Turkish viewer to the status of a “Substitute Viewer” in their own homeland. This article aims to lay bare the structural and ethical collapse behind the glittering façade of the broadcasting world.

1. The “Substitute Viewer” Paradox and the Liquidation of Local Humor

While Turkish television broadcasting boasts of breaking export records, it is, in reality, losing its greatest capital: its “cultural soul.” Series are no longer designed according to Turkey’s sociological reality or the taste of the local audience, but rather tailored to the demands of buyers in the Middle East, South America, or the Balkans. In this new equation based on “Dollars and Euros,” the Turkish viewer has been pushed into the role of a mere “test subject” and an “interim financier” to cover costs for the show’s international success.

The biggest victim of this “export-oriented” production model has been “Humor.” Drama is universal; pain sells in every language. However, humor is local; it requires wit and cultural accumulation. Due to the anxiety that foreign audiences might not understand, the subtle intelligence, the sense of “us being us,” and the social satire inherent to Turkish people have been ripped out of scripts. The genuine joy found in the films of Kemal Sunal or Zeki-Metin has been replaced by the sullen, melodramatic, and uniform dramas demanded by the global market. Not only is the audience denied the honesty of a disclaimer stating, “This series was actually designed for Mexico, not for you,” but a mass of viewers has been created who are deprived of their own humor in their own land.

2. The Sledgehammer and The Scalpel: From Censorship to Script Engineering

Commercial pressure is not the only burden on the sector; the “sledgehammer” effect of RTÜK (Radio and Television Supreme Council) and the “invisible hand” of political will are other factors strangling creativity. However, the issue is not merely about blurred wine glasses or cut scenes; the real danger lies in tampering with the genetics of a “living work of art.”

As seen in the recent history with the example of Hatırla Sevgili (Remember Darling), with changes in channel management or the political conjuncture, the “consultant staffs” of series are replaced, and the historical and conscientious balance of the work is transformed into an ideological instrument. Today, similar interventions are observed in current productions like Kızılcık Şerbeti (Cranberry Sorbet). The killing off of a character crafted by a screenwriter through an external “administrative order,” the alteration of their personality, or their transformation into a propaganda tool constitutes a coup against the “freedom of creation” in art. This situation leads to scripts being written not by artists but with a “trustee mindset,” effectively mocking the intelligence of the audience.

3. Execution of the Credits: Labor Theft by Television Channels

Television channels ruthlessly cut the rolling credits (the list of contributors) at the end of films and series to gain mere seconds for advertising slots. The finale of a film is the audience’s emotional harvest time; it is the moment of bidding farewell with music and internalizing the story. Cutting the credits to abruptly insert a loud commercial is not only an aesthetic murder but also a violation of “moral rights” under the Law on Intellectual and Artistic Works (Law No. 5846).

Channel executives believe they are keeping the audience on the screen when they cut the credits. However, the “smart audience” notices this disrespect and leaves the channel the moment the commercial begins. Even the tactic developed by directors to counter this vandalism—embedding names into the final scene of the movie—can be sabotaged by profit-driven broadcasters who choose to cut the film’s finale entirely. This signifies the capitulation of broadcasting, which ceases to be a public service and surrenders to a merchant mentality that disregards both the viewer and the artist.

4. The Digital Curtain and Algorithmic Mobbing

YouTube and digital platforms, often seen as a refuge against the decay in traditional media, unfortunately impose their own form of “technological apathy.” Particularly when classics of Turkish cinema, such as Yeşilçam films, are digitized, the “End Screen” boxes superimposed over the most crucial final scenes massacre the audience’s final emotional connection. The farewell frame, calculated meticulously by the artist, is censored by a “Subscribe” button.

Even more grave is the “Algorithmic Mobbing” faced by conscious content creators who voice these aesthetic and ethical issues and criticize the platform’s flaws. The system labels the critical voice as a “threat” or “not advertiser-friendly content,” applying digital isolation by lowering view rates or removing the content from recommendations. The viewer exercising their right to criticize is slammed against the cold walls of the algorithm.

5. Time Theft in Cinemas and the Right to “Ad-Free” Viewing

In physical movie theaters, the situation has turned into absolute “Time Theft.” The audience, having paid high ticket prices, is condemned to watch mandatory advertisements for 20-30 minutes from the stated showtime. This is “double taxation”; the viewer pays with both their money and their time.

What is even more painful is the exclusion of “trailers” (coming attractions)—an intrinsic part of cinema art—from the broadcast flow for the sake of commercial ads. The audience is not provided with transparent information regarding ad duration, and those who object are offered “hush money” in the form of “free tickets” instead of a corporate apology. Yet, the viewer’s demand is not charity, but respect. In an environment where ticket prices are so high, failing to offer the viewer an “ad-free (premium) session” or a “lower-cost but ad-supported session” is a usurpation of the consumer’s right to choose.

Conclusion: The Demand to Be the Primary Viewer

All this evidence demonstrates that in Turkey, the viewer is viewed not as a “cultural art stakeholder,” but merely as a statistical datum, a consumption object, and a passive receiver. Our local humor is sacrificed for export goods, our scripts are shaped by political engineering, the names of our laborers are cut from credits, and our time is stolen by advertisements.

The solution lies in transparency, honesty, and respect for labor. It requires explicitly declaring the target audience of series, recognizing the right to ad-free options in cinemas, ensuring digital platforms respect aesthetic integrity, and most importantly, accepting that the viewer is the “Primary,” not the “Substitute.” Because a society’s cultural memory is too precious to be abandoned to the greed of merchants or the blindness of algorithms.

Aydın Tiryaki and Gemini AI
Ankara, December 21, 2025

A MANIFESTO REFUSING TO BE A SUBSTITUTE VIEWER: ON “SCREEN CRIMES” WITH AYDIN TİRYAKİ

Introduction: While the showcase of the Turkish television and cinema world appears glittering, there is a keen eye that sees how respect for the audience, labor, and cultural memory is eroding in the background. We held a striking conversation with author and critic Aydın Tiryaki regarding the corruption of TV series driven by exports, time theft in movie theaters, the “mobbing” of YouTube algorithms, and the “execution of credits” on television.

PART 1: THE SOUL LOST FOR EXPORT AND THE “SUBSTITUTE VIEWER”

GEMINI: Aydın Hocam, today Turkish TV series are breaking sales records globally, from Latin America to the Middle East. The sector presents this as a great victory. However, you view this situation from a different window, more critically. What is the cost of this “global success” to us?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: Beneath this success story lies a serious cultural erosion. I explain this situation with the concept of the “Substitute Viewer.” In the past, series were filmed for us, for our streets, for our humor. Now, scripts are written entirely according to the demands of foreign buyers, based on the Dollar and Euro parity. Producers are essentially filming these series for Mexico or the Balkans; we, the Turkish viewers, are merely positioned as “test subjects” or “interim financiers” who cover the initial costs.

GEMINI: So, we are becoming alienated from productions filmed in our own country, in our own language…

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: Absolutely. Look, drama is universal, but humor is local. Driven by the anxiety that “we need to sell abroad,” they ripped that subtle Turkish wit, that local humor out of our series. They destroyed that sense of “us being us” found in Kemal Sunal films or Zeki-Metin parodies. Because they said, “The Mexicans won’t understand.” The result is technically high-quality but soulless, sullen, and uniform work.

PART 2: THE SLEDGEHAMMER, THE TRUSTEE, AND THE REALITY OF “REMEMBER DARLING”

GEMINI: It’s not just commercial concerns; there is also the issue of the “invisible hand.” Interventions in scripts are being discussed widely, especially in current examples like Kızılcık Şerbeti (Cranberry Sorbet). As someone who personally observed this in the past with the series Hatırla Sevgili (Remember Darling), how do you interpret this?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: The mechanism hasn’t changed, only the names have. 20 years ago, Hatırla Sevgili looked at the Democratic Party era of the 1950s and the leftist movements of the 60s and 70s from a democratic and conscientious standpoint. However, when the channel changed hands and a new political management took over, a “sledgehammer” came down on the series.

GEMINI: What kind of intervention was this? Censorship?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: It was more dangerous than censorship; a sort of “script engineering” was conducted. Consultants with a leftist perspective were sent away, and consultants looking from a right-wing window were brought in. Scenes and lines that were contrary to the nature of the characters, standing out like patches, were added to the series. They tried to tell the audience, “Events are not as you know them, but as we want them to be.” Whatever the forced alteration of characters in Kızılcık Şerbeti is today, that is what was done to Hatırla Sevgili back then. This is taking the deed of the artwork and usurping its soul.

PART 3: LABOR THEFT OF TELEVISION AND THE CREDITS

GEMINI: One of the issues that disturbs you most in television broadcasting is the “cut-off” credits at the end of films. Channel executives claim they do this “not to lose the audience.” Do you think the audience really runs away?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: Broadcasters think they are very cunning and that we are naive. However, we are the “smart audience.” The names rolling at the end of a film are the honor of that work; the labor of the set worker, the gaffer. When the channel cuts those credits to show three more seconds of advertising, they are actually committing “labor theft.”

GEMINI: What do you feel as a viewer at that moment?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: We are torn from our emotional world. Just when we want to be alone with the film’s finale music and digest the story, we are thrown into a loud detergent commercial. They think if they cut the credits, the audience will watch the ad. No, the moment we see that disrespect, we press the remote and leave. Directors have now started burying their names within the final scene of the movie so the channel can’t cut them. This is a defense art developed by the artist against the merchant.

PART 4: DIGITAL BULLYING AND “ALGORITHMIC MOBBING”

GEMINI: We flee traditional media and take refuge in YouTube, but there are problems there too. You are particularly reactive to the “End Screen” boxes in the YouTube versions of Yeşilçam films.

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: Yes, because this is technological apathy. Yeşilçam films usually end with a frozen frame or an emotional farewell. YouTube publishers paste the “Subscribe” button right over the most crucial final second of the film, over the actor’s face. They massacre the finale of a work of art for the sake of a “click.”

GEMINI: When you voice these criticisms on YouTube, you encounter an interesting reaction. You called this “Algorithmic Mobbing.” Can you elaborate on this?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: I make videos where I openly criticize these errors. YouTube’s system may not understand with human-like intelligence like Gemini, but by scanning “keywords,” it sees that I am producing critical content. The system finds this content, which criticizes itself, “risky” and does not recommend me to the viewer; essentially, it makes me invisible. This is digital mobbing that silences the one crying out against injustice.

PART 5: TIME THEFT IN CINEMA AND THE HONORABLE STANCE

GEMINI: Finally, let’s touch upon movie theaters. Your rebellion regarding being made to watch 30 minutes of ads despite paying for the ticket was symbolized by an event you experienced with a distributor. What happened that day?

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: I went to a movie, and I was made to watch advertisements for exactly half an hour. I wrote about this situation on social media in harsh language, stating my time was stolen. The distribution company reached out to me; instead of apologizing or fixing the system, they said, “Let us gift you two tickets.”

GEMINI: So they offered “hush money”…

AYDIN TİRYAKİ: Exactly. And I rejected this offer. Because the issue was not about watching a free movie; the issue was the restitution of those 30 minutes stolen from my life and the return of viewer honor. They need to see us as “humans,” not “customers.” It is now essential that an “Ad-Free” session option be offered as a right in cinemas. A cinema where even trailers are not shown, where only ads are imposed, is not art; it is a commercial house.

Closing: Aydın Tiryaki’s observations are not merely criticisms but a roadmap for a conscious viewer who refuses to be passive. Although the light of the screen blinds us, Aydın Hoca continues to show us the shadows behind that light.

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A Note on Methods and Tools: All observations, ideas, and solution proposals in this study are the author’s own. AI was utilized as an information source for researching and compiling relevant topics strictly based on the author’s inquiries, requests, and directions; additionally, it provided writing assistance during the drafting process. (The research-based compilation and English writing process of this text were supported by AI as a specialized assistant.)