Turkish Drivers and the Concept of Risk

Do not attempt to drive in Istanbul. Do not attempt even to cross the street. To say that Turkish drivers are insane would be a fantastical understatement. If Turkish drivers could somehow induce their cars to drive up lampposts, the sides of buildings, human flesh, trees, the air…if they could drive straight upwards, out of the Earth’s atmosphere and into the heart of the Sun, they would do so without hesitation. They simply do not care. There are rules, laws and police, but somehow they do not adhere to actual people in actual cars. This may be because the police, when they appear, restrict their role mainly to shouting authoritatively into a megaphone, barking commands like: “Stop talking on that cellphone and drive!” Also, all traffic police are bribe-able, so in the event that a driver is stopped for, say, running a red light while driving on the sidewalk, 50 lira (about $30) will usually put him back on the right side of the law.

People say that New York drivers are crazy. New York drivers are not crazy. They will, for example, stop if a person enters the road in front of them. Here, the pedestrian does not have the right of way, and if you should die under the wheels of a taxi, the taxi driver’s conscience will not be disturbed, because you are the idiot that stepped out in front of him. Seriously. It is NOT his problem.

You can cross the street in front of cars if, and only if, you are in a very busy, heavily trafficked area where the cars are moving slowly and there are a lot of pedestrians. In that case, there is a kind of uneasy negotiation between walkers and drivers—an edgy détente of sorts in which cars nudge forward and people nudge across, almost, but not quite bumping into each other.

Turkish drivers will, and frequently do, drive the wrong way on a one-way road. My father-in-law, while doing this, explained to me: “In Turkey, we can do this, if it is only for a short distance. In America it is not possible. Turkish people like risk.”

Indeed. Turkish people seem to like risk almost as much as Americans dislike it. One huge cultural difference between Turkey and America is that, in America, the legal system—more specifically, the litigation system—works very very well, whereas in Turkey it is almost non-existent. This is the reason that it is possible, in America, to have a sign on the wall at a public swimming pool that reads: “Management is not responsible for the discoloration of swimming suits due to chlorinated water.”

In Turkey, on the other hand, you are free to injure or destroy yourself in any manner that suits you. Should you wish, for example, to burn a heap of explosive solvents in your front yard, or fumigate your livingroom with gaseous clouds of poisonous insecticide, you are free to do so. Should you die in the process, Turkish society will mourn your passing as a regrettable but inevitable twist of fate. “Ah, what can you do?,” they will say. “He was a good man…but this Summer was so damp, and there were so many mosquitoes…The climate was not like this when we were children…”

As an American in Turkey, I have mixed emotions about this risk-oblivious culture. What I like about it is the freedom. In America, elaborate safety precautions stand between you and everything fun. It sometimes feels like you are living your life inside a giant condom. The thing is, you want the freedom for yourself, because you know you are trustworthy, but not for the other guy, because the other guy can kill you. That’s the dilemma. There’s a lot of unwarranted trust in Turkey, and a lot of unwarranted paranoia in the States...

At any rate, I implore you: stay off the roads in Turkey. Take planes, boats, balloons, whatever—but do not drive or try to cross the street. If you have ever seen “Road Warrior,” or “Mad Max—Beyond Thunderdome,” you have some idea what it is like. Remember Mel Gibson, clad in black leather, shooting at improvised jeeps with an improvised bazooka. Remember the molten, smoking heaps of twisted metal fulminating by the roadside. Think of the massive, wizened-headed vultures hunching over the carcasses of those who were not Man or Mad enough to survive that apocalyptic highway and you will understand that you are better off staying at home…