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Whose quality is it? Transnational TV flows and power in the global TV market

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Whose quality is it? Transnational TV flows and power in the global TV market

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Content !

Whose Quality Is It?:

Transnational TV Flows and Power in the Global TV Market

by
Şebnem Baran

A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (CINEMA AND MEDIA STUDIES)

August 2018
ii!
Acknowledgments!
!
As my project matured to a point where I was able to start thinking about transforming my findings
into dissertation chapters, I remember imagining the moment I would write my acknowledgements.
While it seemed at once so far away, it was also equally motivating. Motivation is invaluable for
the process of writing, but so are mentorship and guidance.!
!
Therefore, I am deeply grateful for the continuous support of my advisor Dr. Anikó Imre and my
committee members Dr. Ellen Seiter, Dr. Henry Jenkins, Dr. Nitin Govil and Dr. Tara McPherson.
I feel fortunate to have had Anikó’s feedback and support from the beginning of my time at
University of Southern California. She was the first faculty member I met via my Skype interview
before starting the program. Both as my advisor and my committee chair, she has challenged my
thinking and helped me improve my work with her honest and constructive feedback. I benefited
a lot from her expertise in transnational television, quality programming and gender studies while
writing my dissertation. !
!
I am forever indebted to her for what I learned about research and writing during our conversations.
I was also lucky to work as a TA for Anikó; this experience taught me a lot about the
implementation of teaching pedagogies.!
!
I am also incredibly grateful for getting the chance to work with my committee since the
conception of my project. Their feedback on my qualifying exams and dissertation prospectus has
been instrumental for my progress. Like Anikó, they have been very generous with their time and
support. !
!
Discussing theories of power in depth with Ellen helped me to clarify my theoretical framework.
She patiently answered my questions about specific sentences in articles about theory. I was also
fortunate to have invaluable conversations with Ellen about pedagogy and teaching. She helped
me to think more about the in-class applications of my research by assigning me to prepare a
syllabus on global flows of television and discuss it as part of my qualifying exams.!
!
Similarly, my conversations with Nitin about political economy and cultural studies approaches
have been instrumental for me in thinking about my theoretical and methodological accountability.
Nitin kindly shared many articles that became extremely helpful for my research. Moreover, my
interest in the West and East binary can be traced back to his “Imagining Asia” class, in which we
explored questions of identity and globalization. !
!
While I was struggling with the overall structure of my dissertation, Tara provided me with great
examples of textual analysis and helped me uncover the importance of gender and racial
implications of melodrama in the global TV market. This direction claimed a very big presence in
my project as I explored genre in the following stages of my research. Our conversations about
various television texts were very useful for studying content.!
!
Both during his advisee meetings, which allowed students working with him to learn from each
other, and our one-on-one conversations, Henry offered practical advice to answer my many not
iii!
so “quick” questions. Also, his “Fandom, Participatory Culture and Web 2.0” class helped me
explore the difference between “value” and “worth” as well as various forms of participation.
Henry’s feedback for my work for this class became extremely helpful while figuring out how to
approach my case studies about Turkish political quality.!
!
I am immensely grateful for all the support and guidance offered by my committee members. I
feel lucky that I had the chance to work with them and I am truly inspired by their research,
teaching and mentorship. !
!
While talking about all the support and guidance I received, I must mention Dr. Selcan Kaynak,
who advised me during my master’s education at Boğaziçi University. My interest in the intricate
relationship between culture and politics can be traced back to my master’s thesis, which I wrote
under her supervision. I am thankful for everything she taught me about teaching and research.
Her support was instrumental for my application to University of Southern California’s PhD
program.!
!
Throughout my education at University of Southern California, I also received crucial counseling
and administrative guidance from the Cinema and Media Studies Office’s Alicia White, Bill
Whittington and Christine Acham. I cannot thank them enough for leading me through registration,
TA-ship, fellowship and dissertation procedures. I similarly owe thanks to the Graduate School’s
Meredith Drake Reitan and Kate Tegmeyer. They were very helpful and supportive about any
process regarding the Provost Fellowship and Research Enhancement Fellowship that I received
at University of Southern California.!
!
The members of Ellen’s writing group also provided support with their feedback and
encouragement. As members of the group, Amy Murphy, Andrew Myers, Stefania Marghitu, Leah
Aldridge and George Carstocea offered valuable feedback about my work. Moreover, Abby
Comstock-Gay Guner and MaryAnn Murphy provided instrumental feedback about my writing.
Abby’s kind and constructive advice alleviated the arduous nature of writing a dissertation as an
ESL writer. MaryAnn’s “Writing for Publication and Dissertation” class allowed me to re-think
my writing process. !
!
I also feel fortunate to have had the support, feedback and encouragement of Anirban Kapil
Baishya, Darshana Sreedhar Mini, Debjani Dutta, Ezgi Sertler, Eszter Zimányi, Kate Fortmueller
and Sara Bakerman. I am thankful to them all for helping me figure out how I needed to say what
I was trying to say. Their support and encouragement helped me to go on writing whenever it
became hard to do so.
!
My friends and family extended their support from Turkey despite two continents and an ocean
separating us. I am extremely grateful for Ali, Çiğdem, Damla, Didem, Hacer, Işıl, Kayhan,
Mehmet Taner, Melike, Pınar, Sezi, Tomris, Yasemin, Yeşim, and Seyfettin’s as well as my aunts’
and uncles’ continuous support. Their presence in my life is such a privilege. !
!
Similarly, the presence of Güher Çamlıyurt and Beril Kırağası was a vital source of support during
my whole PhD education. Güher, who is to witness my third graduation, has always been very
generous and supportive beyond words. Beril, whom I met at the beginning of my PhD, has always
iv!
been there for me whenever I needed our coffee meetups. My various conversations with both
Güher and Beril were crucial for navigating the challenges of graduate school. I am thankful to
them for their patience, kindness and encouragement. Also, I am tremendously grateful for
Mehmet Güngören’s unending and unwavering support throughout the process of writing. I simply
cannot thank him enough for everything he has done throughout this journey.!
!
Last but not least, I am forever grateful for the support of my parents, who selflessly supported me
and made many sacrifices for my education. As I have always said and I will always say, I am
extremely thankful to my mother Melek Baran, who taught me to work hard, and my father Fehim
Baran, who told me to be brave. Their labor and love will be ingrained in my work forever. !
!
!
!
!

v
Preface!
!
Most people working on television trace their interest back to their childhood fascination with the
medium. I have to admit that my story is similar and not that original. Being an only child raised
in a small town made television a very important source of entertainment in my life. Family
members and friends recurrently refer to my transfixed looks at television as they refer to my
childhood.!
!
What might potentially set my experience apart is the period in which I was growing up. I was
fairly young when the first private TV channel started to broadcast in Turkey, but I was soon old
enough to recognize the difference between TRT, the public broadcaster, and the first Turkish
private broadcaster Interstar during the early 1990s. The latter was more colorful and fun for a
reason I couldn’t describe back then. Having started its life with the help of a legal loophole, this
new channel influenced my relationship with television tremendously. When it cut to CNN to
provide coverage on the Gulf War, I was upset to miss Charles in Charge, which was supposed to
be on air at the time. !
!
Looking retrospectively at my early exposure, despite being overshadowed by the blossoming
private channels, the public broadcaster TRT was equally influential. Since TRT had multiple
agreements with other countries’ public broadcasters, it provided viewers with foreign content
produced in different parts of the world. TRT2 and TRT3 ran many arthouse films which would
have been difficult for a ten-year old to access in other circumstances. I have to say that I learned
a lot about different things from television. And I must say that television meant more during pre-
Internet days—not just for entertainment but also for purposes of learning. !
!
The days of my childhood were very different from my life as a high school student since I am not
a digital native, unlike most of my students at University of Southern California. I started to use
computers when I was in junior high, so I have been fascinated by the pace of change. I specifically
remember the moment when I realized that most people in my college were watching television
shows online. !
!
The internet offered freedom of access on many different levels. However, for someone living
outside the Anglo-American world of TV production, it offered me the chance to find out about
the storylines that were yet to be resolved in Turkey. In addition to learning about the new
seasons—since the Turkish broadcast was usually far behind, it also revealed how viewers from
around the world were as curious about the same shows.!
!
As I explored fan activities online during my college years, I was captivated by the idea of the
devotion and labor concentrating around TV content. For example, following the broadcast of one
of my favorite shows—House MD, someone took time to rip it and upload it online. Someone else
spent time to prepare subtitles and another person made it available on a pirate streaming website.
Many others discussed it in web forums while others wrote lengthy fanfiction stories about it. A
lot of social issues or political problems did not receive such attention. So, I was curious: What
makes TV content that powerful?!

vi
!
This obviously is not a new question, as many scholars have surveyed it before me and will survey
it in the future. Now, there are more cases where devotion to TV content paves the way for political
activism. Therefore, the same question has become more complicated in the last ten years. My
dissertation is the result of my fascination with this question and its ever-increasing complexity. !
!
Although my interest in the subject initially revolved around online sharing and piracy, and
whether these practices altered users’ perception of property and exchange, I ended up looking at
the larger framework of transnational television flows. Since writing my master’s thesis on online
sharing, I witnessed the increasing pressures on pirate streaming websites. New formal online
streaming emerged alongside a high intensity of format flows. Commercialization of the internet
did influence how TV content travelled online. At the same time, more TV formats travelled
internationally, raising a new question about changing power dynamics: Did this mean the end of
the Anglo-American hegemony?!
!
As I surveyed this question, I realized how complying with Anglo-American quality programming
standards is essential for the peripheral content to enter the Northern American and Western
European markets. I wanted to understand what production, distribution (maybe circulation is a
better choice of word if online sharing and piracy are also acknowledged) and consumption (or
reception, depending on how one looks at the agency of viewers) revealed about the power
hierarchies in the global TV market. !
!
Being from Turkey, using the Turkish case was an attractive option due to my advantages of access.
However, I was adamant not to pursue a regionalist approach focusing on the Turkish market and
the success of Turkish exports in the Middle East. This posed a big challenge, for I wanted to
understand the global dynamics. Although the domestic and the regional levels were equally
important, my observations led me to think that there is a more global system of hierarchy. The
difference between the core and the periphery emerged as the main axis of this system. Quality
programming standards allowed me to map how genre, gender and race as well as the platform of
access worked in sync with the core and periphery binary to reproduce Western-centric hegemony. !
!
To survey this system of hierarchy, I set out to study the text and the context together. My initial
plan was to include elite interviews with Turkish TV bloggers to explore the perception of quality
for both Turkish and foreign content. I conducted my first interview with a famous TV blogger
currently running a successful website about TV and I was planning to continue my interviews
when the events of 2016 summer unfolded. The attempted or alleged coup d’etat—as is the case
for the most prominent events in the Turkish history, there is no consensus on what happened
exactly—took place. Thinking that this tense period would not be the best time to conduct
interviews, I returned to the text for the summer.!
!
As I was working on my textual analysis of the Turkish show Son (The End) and trying to figure
out what to do next, two online streaming platforms in Turkey announced their plans for original
shows. Confirming my suspicions, both platforms’ online originals mimicked Anglo-American
quality programming standards—albeit in different manners. This new development allowed me
to explore the relationship between online streaming and quality programming in the global

vii
context. BluTV’s Masum (Innocent) and puhutv’s Fi (Phi) provided complex cases to explore
“globalization” and “glocalization” of quality.!
!
With that, things finally started to fall into their places, giving me the opportunity to study the text
and the context by paying attention to domestic, regional and global levels of analysis for
production, distribution and consumption. In the end, instead of conducting interviews with
bloggers, I chose to focus on two fan activism cases around Behzat Ç. (Behzat C.) and Leyla ile
Mecnun (Leyla and Mecnun) in order to explore alternative notions of quality in Turkey. These
highly publicized incidents of fan activism offered a rich foray into an alternative “Turkish political
quality.” This different form of quality—an alternative to the Anglo-American quality—posed
many questions and gave many answers about the transformation of fan activism into political
participation. Once called spectators or audiences and now called users, producers or prosumers,
fans, these viewers gained visibility and challenged the pre-existing power hierarchies in the
market. The unique political context of Turkey also revealed how they became “publics” with their
political participation. !
!
All these cases helped me address the overall framework of commercialization and participation
debates about the Internet in connection with the global television market. With content from
different parts of the world claiming global visibility via multidirectionality as well as viewers’
newfound agency, the question of power is more relevant than ever.!
!
Building on this relevance, I hope my project contributes to our understanding of power in the
global TV market. !

viii
Whose Quality Is It?:
Transnational TV Flows and Power in the Global TV Market
Abstract
While the digitalization of content has increased the visibility of authorized and unauthorized
forms of online viewing, the last twenty years has also witnessed an increase in the number of
transnational television flows. Although television content has traveled across borders before, the
course and the content of flows has changed dramatically since the 1980s. Increasing numbers of
format adaptations and the rise of new centers of production like Israel, Korea and Turkey have
instigated a new wave of discussions both in academia and mainstream media that question the
impact of this newfound multidirectionality. These discussions have seen the emerging centers of
production as evidence of a change in the global television market long dominated by Anglo-
American production. I argue on the contrary and explain how despite the emergence of new
centers of production, Anglo-American hegemony has retained its power. By exploring Turkey’s
position as a new peripheral center of production, I reveal the role of Anglo-American quality
programming in this process of hegemonic reproduction. My overall aim is to capture the ongoing
transformation of television within the context of digitalization and globalization by considering
the socio-cultural, economic and political repercussions it entails.

My dissertation starts with my aesthetic, narrative and generic analysis of Son (The End)—the first
Turkish television show to successfully travel to Western Europe—to explain the role of Anglo-
American quality standards in filtering transnational television flows. This psychological thriller
gains Westward mobility thanks to its similarity to Anglo-American quality programming.
Although Turkish shows have been popular in the Middle East and the Balkans, Son remains the

ix
only Turkish scripted format that has successfully moved to Western Europe. Its exceptional status
is important in terms of the multidirectionality attributed to global TV markets after the emergence
of new centers of production like Turkey. If the content originating from these centers is mostly
confined to areas outside of Northern American and Western European markets, it becomes hard
to accept the claims of multidirectionality found in academic studies and trade journal articles.
Moreover, if shows which manage to enter these territories do so by mimicking Anglo-American
standards, Anglo-American centers keep their dominance in the global markets. In my second
chapter, I study two different online streaming models in Turkey, BluTV and puhutv, to elaborate
further on the globalization of Anglo-American quality and investigate the role of online streaming
in this dissemination. Both platforms emulate the Anglo-American streaming models and use their
quality programming standards for their online originals. Then, in my third chapter, I introduce an
alternative type of quality within the Turkish context by studying Behzat Ç. (2010-2013) and Leyla
ile Mecnun (Leyla and Mecnun, 2011-2013). This version, which I describe as “political quality,”
offers a non-Anglo-American interpretation of quality programming. This type of quality faces the
risk of extinction as economic competition intensifies due to the increasing prevalence of the
Anglo-American quality model. “Political quality,” which has the potential to instigate activism,
is also threatened by the atmosphere of political oppression in Turkey. I conclude my dissertation
by discussing the possible implications of the globalization of Anglo-American quality
programming for national, regional and global television flows.

x
Contents
Acknowledgments ......................................................................................................................... ii!
Preface ............................................................................................................................................ v!
Abstract ....................................................................................................................................... viii!
Table of Figures ............................................................................................................................. x!
Introduction: Global Television Flows after Digitalization and Turkey as a New
Center of Production .................................................................................................................... 1
Chapter 1 Crossing the Western Borders: Women of Son (The End) ................................... 49!
Chapter 2 Whose Quality is It?: Online Streaming and the Global Spread of Anglo-
American Quality ........................................................................................................................ 86!
Chapter 3 Turkish Alternative: Agency, Activism and Political Quality ............................ 135!
Conclusion: The Cost of Moving to the West ......................................................................... 196!
Bibliography .............................................................................................................................. 242!

x
Table of Figures

Figure 1.1 MIPCOM County of Honor clip from YouTube: Clip title is “Turkish Delight”
Retrieved from: https://youtu.be/GeU62gPceqM ......................................................................... 12!
Figure 1.2 Turkish Airlines promotional campaign: The Middle Eastern fans meet Songül
Öden in the clip. ............................................................................................................................ 15!
Figure 1.3 Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ and fans. Retrieved from:
http://img1.aksam.com.tr/imgsdisk/2015/03/29/290320150057248840083.jpg .......................... 17!
Figure 1.4 Deadline.com Screenshot: Retrieved from: https://deadline.com/2014/04/turkey-
televisioin-industry-formats-on-rise-miptv-711365/ .................................................................... 31!

Figure 2.1 Men chasıng Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ, the star of Gümüş (Noor). The writing can be
translated as ‘The show that causes family problems: Noor.’ ..................................................... 58
Figure 2.2: Simon and his twin brother seen in home video artifacts in opening sequence.
(Screenshot from Vlucht HS13.) ................................................................................................... 62!
Figure 2.3 Newspaper article about Simon becoming a suspect of a terror attack (Screenshot
from Vlucht HS13.) ....................................................................................................................... 62!
Figure 2.4 Aylin (Nehir Erdoğan) (Screenshot from Son.) ........................................................... 62!
Figure 2.5 Leyla (Mehrnoush Esmaeilpour) (Screenshot from Son.) ........................................... 62!
Figure 2.6 Küçük Gelin Promotional Picture ................................................................................ 68!
Figure 2.7 Sıla Promotional Picture .............................................................................................. 68!
Figure 2.8 Analar ve Anneler (Mamas and Moms) (left) Anneler ve Kızları (Mothers and
Daughters) (right). Both shows and their promotional pictures juxtapose urban/modern with
rural/traditional. ............................................................................................................................ 69!
Figure 2.9 Aylin wakes up next to Halil and realizes she still has her wedding ring on.
(Screenshot series from Son.) ....................................................................................................... 71!
Figure 2.10 Aylin on a date with Barış. (Screenshot series from Son.) ........................................ 72!
Figure 2.11 Aylin and Roza in the restroom during Aylin’s date. (Screenshot from Son.) .......... 73!
Figure 2.12 Leyla trying to get an illegal abortion (Screenshot from Son.) ................................. 75!
Figure 2.13 Leyla in jail in Iran after getting caught. (Screenshot from Son.) ............................. 76!
Figure 2.14 Selim following Leyla to her house in Iran. (Screenshot from Son.) ........................ 76!
Figure 2.15 Aylin in her hotel room. (Screenshot from Son.) ...................................................... 78!
Figure 2.16 Aylin in the streets of Iran. (Screenshot series from Son.) ........................................ 78!
Figure 2.17 Leyla teaching Liv how to cover her head. (Screenshot series from Vlucht HS13.) . 80!
!
Figure 3.1 BluTV Screenshot Masum…........................................................................................89
Figure 3.2 puhutv Screenshot. In addition to “Dizi” (Series) and “Film” (Film) tabs, there
is a separate tab for the platform’s first original show, Fi. ........................................................... 90!
Figure 3.3 puhutv Main Catalog with shows ................................................................................ 91!
Figure 3.5 BluTV-Main Catalog with international and Turkish content. ................................... 92!
Figure 3.4 BluTV-Main Catalog with BluTV originals as the first three shows. ......................... 92!
Figure 3.6 Dizilab Screenshot ....................................................................................................... 98!
Figure 3.7 Tarık hallucinates Emel shaking his medicine bottle in Masum. .............................. 117!
Figure 3.8 Selim talking to Emel at the office (Screenshot from Masum.) ................................ 118!

xi
Figure 3.9 Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya) dancing in Fi. .................................................................... 123!
Figure 3.10 Can Manay (Ozan Güven) on his talk-show in Fi. .................................................. 123!
Figure 3.11 Can Manay (Ozan Güven) and Sıla (Özge Özpirinçci) in Fi. ................................. 123!
Figure 3.12 Özge (Berrak Tüzünataç) in Fi. ............................................................................... 124!
Figure 3.13 Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya) and Deniz (Mehmet Günsür) in Fi. ................................. 125!
Figure 3.14 Categorizing peripheral content as soaps or telenovelas ......................................... 127!

Figure 4.1 Behzat Ç. Public Screening ....................................................................................... 148!
Figure 4.2 Harun (Fatih Arıtman) and his soon-to-be fiancee Meliha (Derya Uçar)
in Behzat Ç. ................................................................................................................................. 149!
Figure 4.3 Leyla ile Mecnun promotional poster. ....................................................................... 157!
Figure 4.4 “No chewing gum” sign behind Mecnun resembling “No smoking” signs
in Turkey. .................................................................................................................................... 161
Figure 4.5 Screenshot of mock Leyla ile Mecnun cast interview released on YouTube. ........... 162!
Figure 4.6 Promotional pictures with changing female leads in Leyla ile Mecnun: Ali Atay
(Mecnun) with co-stars Ezgi Asaroglu (Leyla), Muge Boz (Sirin), Zeynep Camci (Sedef)
and the second Leyla (Melis Birkan). ......................................................................................... 163!
Figure 4.7 The Leyla and Mecnun cast and creative team, with medical masks against the tear
gas, during the Gezi Protests ....................................................................................................... 165!
Figure 4.8 Aksak on Ben de Özledim (2013) sharing the intended ending
for Leyla ile Mecnun. .................................................................................................................. 166!
Figure 4.9 Screenshot series from Behzat Ç. Behzat arrives after the police
finish the search and finds Esra trying to pick up her law books from the floor. ....................... 174!
Figure 4.10 Dostoyevsky spoke in Turkish but the show included Russian subtitles
in a tongue-in-cheek manner (Screenshot from Leyla ile Mecnun.) ........................................... 178
Figure 4.11 Split personalities of Behzat represented all together in Behzat Ç. ......................... 180!
Figure 4.12 The real Behzat leaves the others and enters his home in Behzat Ç. ....................... 181!
Figure 4.13 “Kirecburnu Cakallari” re-enacting Reservoir Dogs in Leyla ile Mecnun. ............. 186!
Figure 4.14 Che as seen in Leyla ile Mecnun. ............................................................................ 186!
Figure 4.15 Kill Bill homage in Leyla ile Mecnun. .................................................................... 186!
Figure 4.16 Fans’ petitions for Netflix to pick up Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. .................. 187!

Figure 5.1 El Accidente Cast Promotional Picture ...................................................................... 199!
Figure 5.2 Leyla (Mehrnoush Esmaeilpour) in Son. ................................................................... 200!
Figure 5.3 Leyla (Sachli Gholamalizad) in Vlucht HS13. .......................................................... 201!
Figure 5.4 Lucia (Inma Cuesta) in El Accidente. ........................................................................ 201!
Figure 5.5 María (Berta Vazquez) in El Accidente. .................................................................... 202!
Figure 5.6 María preparing for her trip at the airport (Screenshot series from El Accidente.) ... 202!
Figure 5.7 Maria’s character bio on the Telecinco webpage for El Accidente. .......................... 205!
Figure 5.8 Jean Chalaby’s categorization in “Drama without Drama:
The Late Rise of Scripted TV Formats” (pg. 7) .......................................................................... 219!

!

1
Introduction
Global Television Flows after Digitalization and Turkey as a New Center of
Production

“East, young woman, is always further east than we think. The further we get from the West, the
more unreachable it becomes. Don’t you want to see the sunset? It’s the only beauty around here
that’s bulletproof.”
Son (The End)
The English trailer of the first Turkish TV series sold to Western European countries, Son (The
End), begins with the sentences above. A blindfolded woman sits on a chair with her hands tied.
An English-speaking man addresses the relationship between the East and the West
philosophically as she listens. Written by one of the most famous contemporary playwrights in
Turkey, Son differs from regular Turkish shows. While it is a rare choice in the Turkish market,
the show was released as a limited series. Also, the story defies its chronological order by
beginning with the end. Despite receiving moderate ratings in Turkey, Son ended up becoming the
first Turkish show to be sold to Western Europe. After the Swedish public television channel stv2
purchased the rights to air Son with subtitles, other Western countries started to pay attention.
While the American version, Runner, did not make it to the air on ABC despite the pilot order, the
Dutch and the Spanish versions managed to make it to the television screen.
As the mysterious man suggests in the show’s trailer, in this case also, the east seems to be
further east than we think. As a metaphor of mobility, flow insinuates a seamless journey, which
tones down power implications. However, the example of Son shows that the multidirectionality
of television flows has certain limits, mirroring global hierarchies of power. In this hierarchical
!

2
system, the Anglo-American definition of quality programming becomes a definitive barrier for
peripheral content. Despite the success of Turkish television shows in neighboring countries,
Western Europe and beyond still appear as a desired yet unreachable destination. While Turkish
content creators and distributors publicly express their intention to sell content to Western
countries, television content seems to move in that direction with more difficulty. Shows like Son
might flow easily into certain countries, but they face barriers at the borders of Western Europe
and North America. This project explores what it takes to overcome these barriers, and the role of
quality programming’s flexible definition in legitimizing those barriers.
While the digitalization of content has increased the visibility of authorized and
unauthorized forms of online viewing, the last twenty years has also witnessed an increase in the
number of authorized transnational television flows. Although television content has traveled
across borders before, the course and the content of flows have changed dramatically since the
1980s. The late 1990s then witnessed a new form of content circulation with the newfound
popularity of format adaptations. Oren and Shahaf define format as: “In its most basic, legally
sanctioned, form, it is a program concept: a list of “rules” or conventions that make up the fixed
and distinct aspects of each program.”
1
They also add that formats come with a licensing
agreement and documents depicting how they should be adapted. This package is called “The
Bible” in the trade. When these rules are observed alongside the desire to produce a culturally
specific text, formats provide a unique chance to survey “glocalization” in the global television
market.
Like the increasing numbers of format adaptations, the rise of new centers of production
like Israel, Korea and Turkey has instigated a new wave of discussions both in academia and
mainstream media that question the impact of a newfound multidirectionality of television flows.
!

3
These discussions have seen the emerging centers of production as evidence of a change in the
global television market, which has long been dominated by Anglo-American production. I argue
on the contrary and explain how despite the emergence of new centers of production, Anglo-
American hegemony has retained its power. By exploring Turkey’s position as a new peripheral
center of production, I will reveal the role of Anglo-American quality programming in this process
of hegemonic reproduction.
As a very much contested televisual category “quality” indicates a value judgment, but at
the same time—despite its nature as a value judgment—remains generally identifiable in the
Anglo-American context based on some generic, aesthetic and narrative characteristics.
*
Elliott
Logan summarizes these recognizable indicators as “higher production values, a cinematic
audiovisual style, complex and controversial storylines, genre hybridity, and reflexivity.”
Quality programming has become more influential in the United States market after the
rise of cable, satellite and time-shifting technologies. This emphasis on quality branding and niche
targeting is the major difference between the current period and the network era. In Cable Visions,
Sarah Banet-Weiser, Cynthia Chris, and Anthony Freitas trace this transition to the rise of cable
and the active form of viewership associated with it.
2
According to Banet-Weiser, Chris and
Freitas, no longer limited by the least offensive programming strategies, cable channels were able
to introduce “quality content,” defined as “adult-oriented drama with high production values” as
well as content targeting smaller demographics with niche programming.
3

The widespread use of the Internet further contributed to this trend of niche targeting and
diversification in what Michael Curtin and Jane Shattuc call “the matrix era.”
4
Another scholar,

*
For an extensive discussion of quality television, see: Brunsdon, “Problems with Quality,”; Geraghty,
“Aesthetics and Quality in Popular Television Drama”; Cardwell, Is Quality Television Any Good? and
Thompson, Preface in Quality TV xvii.

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4
Amanda Lotz, uses the term “post-network” to describe what Curtin and Shattuc prefer to call the
“matrix era”.
5
Alongside the increase in number of viewing options, Lotz identifies the increase in
paid viewing as the defining characteristic of the post-network era.
6
The intertwined relationship
between the cost of access and diversification is further demonstrated by the cost of Netflix
subscription and fees associated with integrated technologies like mobile phones.
7

In other words, personalization and niche targeting are similarly associated with new forms
of digital viewership just like they were previously associated with cable technologies. Personal
computers, laptops, tablets and smartphones have increasingly enabled individuals to watch what
they want according to their own schedules. These devices have built upon cable’s emphasis on
niche programming. With multiple paid on-demand video services, diversification has increased
the overall costs of access and instigated a set of concerns in terms of viewers opting out of specific
cable services due to increased capability of online access.
Mareike Jenner maps a similar connection between cable branding strategies and online
streaming models.
8
However, by focusing on the case of Netflix, she argues that despite this shared
utilization of “quality” or “cult” programming for branding purposes, Netflix deviates from
television strategies by shrinking the niche:
In this sense, Netflix may be viewed as part of a television matrix, but, apart from offering
serialised content, it signals a further move away from what is still understood as television.
A key aspect here is Netflix’ independence from branding infra-structures that link
television with online media. Instead, orienting itself more towards much more prolific
online-based companies like Amazon or Google, Netflix builds its own brand, a premium
online channel independent from more ‘traditional’ forms of channel branding in network
and cable television with even smaller ‘niche’ audiences with the autonomy to build their
own schedule. Arrested Development, season 4, shows just how much Netflix ties in with
an already existing discourse surrounding ‘cult’ and ‘quality’ TV and viewer autonomy.
9

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5
Jenner follows Roberta Pearson’s
10
periodization of U.S. television—TVI (the mid- 1950s-the
early 1980s), TVII (the early 1980s-the late 1990s) and TVIII (the late 1990s to present)—to
question whether Netflix is the proof of transition to TVIV:
In the United States, TVI, dating from the mid-1950s to the early 1980s, is the era of
channel scarcity, the mass audience, and three-network hegemony. TVII, dating from
roughly the early 1980s to the late 1990s, is the era of channel/network expansion, quality
television, and network branding strategies. TVIII, dating from the late 1990s to the present,
is the era of proliferating digital distribution platforms, further audience fragmentation, and,
as Reeves et al. (2002) suggest, a shift from second-order to first-order commodity
relations.
11

In this new era of diversification, online streaming has clearly challenged the previous norms of
content distribution and consumption. Its role in globalizing Anglo-American quality
programming standards offers a way to capture how power hierarchies in the global TV market
are reproduced. As the case of Turkish television reveals, these standards influence the course of
content flows originating from new centers of production. At the same time, they transform
domestic production as local streaming platforms in Turkey imitate the quality programming
strategies of the American cable and streaming models.
My overall aim is to capture this ongoing transformation of television within the context
of digitalization and globalization by considering the socio-cultural, economic and political
repercussions it entails.
Therefore, in my introduction, I will move back and forth between the Turkish case and
global television flows literature to explain why Turkey is a good case to study in order to
understand the hierarchy in today’s global television market. Although initially used by Raymond
Williams to describe the continuous nature of television programming—as programs and
commercials follow one another, “flows” has claimed a more transnational meaning in the last two
decades.
12
Denise Bielby and Lee Harrington describe this new meaning as follows: “[...] flow
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6
refers to the movement of television programs and formats through different world markets.”
13

Albert Moran emphasizes the analytical strength of the term by explaining that it unites “carriage
and content.”
14
By utilizing the unique capability of this term, I will map the literature on global
television flows. While drawing connections to the current context of the global television market,
I will explore how “visibility,” “agency” and “multidirectionality” become keywords for
understanding power and hierarchy. As I survey the literature and provide relevant examples about
Turkish television, I will identify important terms and concepts that I will use throughout my
dissertation.
As a new center of production, Turkey emerges as an example of a peripheral content
creator that has achieved exporting power in the region, yet faces challenges in selling content to
the core—which is North America and Western Europe, as revealed by producers in trade journal
and mainstream newspaper interviews. In the case of Turkish television, the original export region
started out as the neighboring Middle East and Balkans. However, as Turkish television producers
have gained expertise and the television sector has matured, the export territories have expanded
deeper into Asia, North Africa and South America. The periphery vs. core binary is very useful
not just because the export territories fit well with the existing core-periphery categories.
Stephen Morton traces this core and the periphery binary back to the seventeenth century
while providing the framework for its academic dominance in sociology, political science and
cultural studies:
15

The distinction between the core and the periphery is a spatial distinction, which has shaped
the mapping of global political and economic power relations from the seventeenth century
to the present. This distinction is often associated with the world-systems theory of the
Marxist economist Immanuel Wallerstein, who has argued that the global capitalist
economy has been expanding since the seventeenth century, and that this expansion has
involved massive economic imbalances between the core, or “the West,” and the periphery,
or “the non-West.” Yet this distinction between “the West” and “the non-West” is also an
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7
invention of the Western cultural imagination in an attempt to assert the dominance of the
core over the periphery.
16

As Morton explains, this distinction is invented rather than being essential. Nevertheless, Western-
centric knowledge production essentializes it to reproduce the power imbalance. My goal is to not
reproduce this imbalance by using the same categories, but rather show how these categories still
influence transnational TV flows and inform the global TV market. The core and the periphery
binary is indeed invented and Western-centric, yet it is at the same time alive and real.
This binary has long been criticized, problematized and deemed to be inefficient for
addressing today’s complex context of the global media sphere.
†
Nevertheless, it is impossible not
to think about the core and the periphery binary considering how the transformation of the global
TV market is discussed in academic and journalistic debates. In the case of Turkish television
exports, the initial success of Turkish shows in the Middle East paved the way for the use of a
similar hegemonic binary to explain the increasing popularity of these shows.
Both academics and journalists alike reference the Ottoman imperial expansion in their
articles discussing the successful performance of Turkish shows in Arabic speaking countries.
When both “the Empire” and “imperialism” claim their presence in these debates, it is hard not to
think about the power implications of media globalization and the core vs. periphery binary.
“Periphery” also serves as an alternative point of reference while discussing the power relations
within countries. Race and gender emerge as other important factors while evaluating what the
periphery means inside the core. While melodramas are deemed to be lesser types of content for
targeting female viewers, peripheral melodramas are quickly exoticized and categorized as “soaps”

†
For an extensive survey of the east vs. west binary, see: Kavoori. “Thinking through Contra-Flows,” 49-
50; Appadurai, Modernity at Large; Bhabha, The Location of Culture; and Morton. “Core and Periphery.”

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8
or “telenovelas.” Emulating the core’s quality standards becomes the key to overcoming these
prejudices and entering the North American and Western European markets. Just like quality
standards, online streaming models are spreading from the core to the rest of the world.
In this picture, since people access content globally and more content originates from the
periphery, the globalization of the television market is a given. Nevertheless, how much power
newcomers like Turkey have is still debated. While “cultural specificity” and “cultural proximity”
surface in both academic articles and mainstream news coverage about the success of Turkish
melodramas with reference to Turkey’s desire to have more power in the region, there is not much
discussion on how the local, the regional and the global interact. “Glocalization” lies at the heart
of this interaction and helps in understanding the hierarchies between the core and the periphery
as well as Anglo-American quality and melodramas. The complexity of Turkish television makes
it a worthy case to study glocalization and power in the global television market.

Why Should We Talk about the Curious Case of Turkish Television?

As mentioned above, Turkish distributors and content creators are now more vocal about their
desire to enter Western European and American markets. Their intention seems to be to create a
buzz around Turkish formats. However, despite acknowledging the promising potential of Turkish
content, Western European and North American producers and distributors are cautious about
Turkey’s potential.
While Turkey continued to increase its influence as a new center of production by
exporting content abroad, the country went through an important political transformation at the
same time. As Turkish melodramas spread beyond the neighboring Middle East and Balkans, the
Turkish television market strengthened after its initial success with melodrama exports in the first
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9
decade of the 2000s. These developments went hand in hand with on-going concerns about
freedom of expression and media censorship. Since the pre-elections period in 2011 and the
following trials against journalists and political activists, these concerns have only intensified. The
Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK) has been criticized for imposing censorship on
content. For example, Behzat Ç. (2010-2013), a politically charged TV show about a maverick cop
in the Turkish capital Ankara, received warnings and fines from the Council multiple times for
depicting alcohol use and profanity. Fans argued that Behzat Ç.’s political storylines and the AKP
(Justice and Development Party) government’s dislike of the show motivated RTÜK’s decisions.
While Fatma Şahin, the Minister of Family and Social Policy, criticized the show for its depiction
of women during the show’s run, Vice Prime Minister Bülent Arınç stated that the show was under
their watch.
17
Problems of censorship (or self-censorship) peaked during the Gezi Events in 2013
when major news channels failed to report the on-going protests in the Taksim Square.
Throughout the time that I have worked on my dissertation, the Turkish television industry
has continued to gain strength, but censorship and political pressures have accompanied that
growth. This political transformation of my home country, Turkey, has made me even more
dedicated to understanding the relationship between media and the political, economic and social-
cultural context of its production. As a female scholar, I find this to be an urgent cause particularly
because the recent political situation in Turkey has severely endangered academic freedoms,
women’s rights, freedom of expression and freedom of press.
The same concerns about censorship and the concentration of media ownership can be
understood better within the context of AKP’s cherishing of the Ottoman past and the system of
one-man rule in the Sultanate. In the international arena, the popularity of Turkish melodramas in
the Middle East has often been compared to the historical Ottoman expansion. The conservative
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10
AKP government’s desire to champion tradition and religion while celebrating Ottoman heritage
has also raised questions about the cultural implications of the political consolidation of the AKP
rule. Scholars pointed at the increasing visibility of pious characters in TV shows, such as Huzur
Sokağı (Peace Street, 2012-2014), on mainstream channels and the thematic incorporation of
Islamic piety in storytelling as evidence of this cultural change.
‡

While debates about the changing socio-political context continue, melodramas maintain
their popularity in both domestic and global markets. Although love stories seem to dominate the
market, politically charged stories emerge in specific cases. Kumru Berfin Emre Cetin names Bu
Kalp Seni Unutur Mu? (My Heart Won’t Forget You, 2009-2010), Behzat Ç. and Kayıp Şehir (Lost
City, 2012–2013) as examples of such series.
18
Famous television critic and sociologist Tayfun
Atay

similarly names Kayıp Şehir, Ağır Roman Yeni Dünya (Cholera street: The New World, 2012),
Suskunlar (The Silent Ones, 2012) and Uçurum (The Cliff, 2012) along with Behzat Ç. as shows
that openly criticize the status quo.
19
While these dramas had smaller yet devoted followings, they
were far from reaching ratings of mainstream shows like Muhteşem Yüzyıl (The Magnificent
Century, 2011-2014) or Medcezir (Tide, 2013-2015).
As the industry grows and gains experience, more shows are produced, yet only the
stronger ones can survive the competition. In a way, consolidation, as well as the issues of
censorship, endangers alternative stories. Apart from incorporating elements of political critique,
the producers of these alternative series are more eager to experiment with non-traditional
storytelling techniques. For example, shows like Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun include extended
dream scenes and hallucinations, going beyond the mainstream standards of Turkish television.

‡
To read more on the representations of religiosity in Turkish television and the politicization of Turkish
dramas, see: Isik, “Parables as Indicators of Popular Wisdom,” 565–581; Oğuz, “AK Parti'ye dirençli
diziler!,”; and Emre Cetin, “The Politicization” of Turkish Television Dramas.”

!

11
Behzat Ç. remains an exceptionally bold case with its depiction of multiple versions of the leading
character in the same scene as he struggles with the death of his wife, who was assassinated. In
my third chapter, I explore how these two shows provide examples for what I call Turkish political
quality.
Possibly due to the recurrence of context-specific cultural and political references, these
programs are also less likely to be exported. As competition gets tougher in the domestic context
with major producers investing in higher production values for shows targeting mainstream
popularity, new shows that experiment with narrative and visual techniques face lower chances of
survival. In other words, both the evolution of the domestic market and the growing emphasis on
exports carry the risk of homogenizing the market both aesthetically and politically. The
globalization of Anglo-American quality standards is another element of this trend towards
homogenization. The global spread of online streaming platforms has a role in the dissemination
of Anglo-American quality.
Therefore, the introduction of local online streaming platforms such as BluTV and puhutv
as well as the entry of global streaming companies like Netflix and Amazon into the Turkish
market complicate the situation. These new players raise the stakes in the competitive domestic
market. In addition to this tough domestic competition, the capacity of foreign exports is an
important consideration. On the one hand, Turkish producers are expanding their exports by
opening up to new territories like South America after reaching success in the Middle East, the
Balkans and Asia. On the other hand, they are trying to become more influential in the North
American and Western European markets. All this is happening while changing political dynamics
influence the Turkish mediascape. In order to explore what that double-sided transformation
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12
entails for Turkey, first it is necessary to understand the rise of Turkey as a new center of
production.

Turkey as a New Center of Production

While Son remains an exception in terms of challenging Western European borders, Turkish
television content has been very popular in the Middle East and in the Balkans since the early
2000s. As such, Son’s exceptional status is understood better with comparison to the regionally
successful Turkish melodramas.
Having started out as a reality format creator, Turkey gained more publicity for exporting
finished melodramas to the neighboring region. In 2015, MIPCOM hosted multiple panels on the
rising popularity of Turkish content with Turkey as the country of honor. Apart from these panels,
Figure 1.1 MIPCOM County of Honor clip from YouTube: Clip title is “Turkish Delight” Retrieved
from: https://youtu.be/GeU62gPceqM
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13
promotional clips featuring Turkish actors, producers and distributors were released on
MIPCOM’s official YouTube channel. One of the most interesting clips, entitled “Turkish Delight:
The Stars of MIPCOM's Country of Honour in Cannes,” alluded to the inescapable Oriental
imagery by calling featured actors “Turkish delights.”
This allusion is only a small part of the ambiguity attached to the rise of Turkey as a new
center of production. Turkey first attracted attention as a content creator in the first decade of 2000s
when Turkish melodramas dubbed in Arabic gained success in the neighboring region.
§
This
success was quickly associated with the newly elected AKP (JDP) government’s desire to have a
stronger say in the region, which was reminiscent of the Ottoman expansion. Therefore, beginning
with the popularity of Turkish melodramas in the Middle East and the Balkans, the success of
television exports started to conjure memories of an imperial past.
In the post-9/11 and Iraq War world, the AKP (JDP) appeared as a moderate alternative.
Western media pointed to the new popularity of Turkish melodramas while celebrating the Turkish
political model. Despite conservative critics in the Middle East denouncing Turkish shows as
immoral and corrupt, the notion of “Neo-Ottoman cool”
**
soon claimed its presence both in
academic surveys and in mainstream publications.
20
Omar Al-Ghazzi and Marwan Kraidy define
neo-Ottomanism elsewhere as “a Turkey-centric policy of projecting Turkish self-confidence
politically and economically.”
21
Considering the Ottoman Empire’s colonial past in the Middle
East, this term hints at the complicated nature of Turkish television exports in the Middle East.
While almost all media coverage focused on the cultural impact of Turkish shows in the
Middle East and offered explanations for these shows’ success in the region, very few of them

§
For more on the importance of dubbing for exports, see Buccianti, "Dubbed Turkish Soap Operas
Conquering the Arab World.”

**
I elaborate more on “Neo-Ottoman cool” in my first chapter.
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14
revisited the initial success of Turkish reality formats in international sales. However, this new
popularity of Turkish melodramas, which started with Gümüş (Noor, 2005-2007), actually
followed the earlier reality format exports. Gelinim Olur Musun? (The Perfect Bride) is the most
famous example of these reality format exports. With a unique emphasis on the role of mothers-
in-law in Turkey, this show followed the Big Brother (1999) and The Bachelor (2002) formats
with a twist. Mothers of six men were placed in the same house with twelve women. With the help
of viewer votes, the mothers were able to eliminate women competing for their sons’ attention.
While many adaptations followed, this format also ended up being the subject of a lawsuit when
Lütfü Murat Üçkardeşler, the creator of the Turkish format, sued Ryan Seacrest, who produced a
similar format, Momma’s Boys (2008-2009).
22

It is important to note that, like Gümüş, this format reinforced a more traditional idea of
marriage. Apart from involving mothers in the process of matchmaking, this format did not leave
much room for negotiation as it situated marriage as the direct result of the matchmaking process.
Gelinim Olur Musun? ended up being exported as a format to many countries including Hungary,
Lebanon, India, Italy and Russia.
23

Selling formats proved to be a big step towards gaining visibility in the global television
markets. As Bilge Yesil also explains, global networking enabled producers and distributors with
new opportunities to market their content.
24
İzzet Pinto, who owns the Turkish company Global
Agency, has identified entry to the global formats market as the necessary step towards selling
finished content in his publicly available interviews.
25
Having established connections, Pinto was
among the first to sell melodramas to neighboring countries. Once international viewers became
familiar with Turkish shows and Turkish actors, a continuous demand emerged. Digital
technologies also played an important role in increasing this demand by making it easier for
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15
international fans to access content and express their devotion. Online sharing and piracy
supplemented authorized circulation by publicizing Turkish programs, and indeed the popularity
of Turkish melodramas in the region has also been driven by the vocal support of online fans. As
they prepare subtitles and circulate content online, these fans help visualize the regional demand.
Also as a result of this visibility, Turkish Airlines used Noor star Songül Öden in a promotional
campaign focusing on the Middle East.
26

Apart from being visible in the online sphere, these fans have become more visible in the
reporting of Turkish media. The increasing number of tourists coming from the region became
associated with the popularity of Turkish melodramas as the shooting locations of these dramas
became touristic destinations. Ignoring the particular differences of these fans’ national origins,
Figure 1.2 Turkish Airlines promotional campaign: The Middle Eastern fans meet Songül Öden in the
clip. Retrieved from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCI-AahMapU
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16
the reporting of the Turkish media continuously referred to them as Arab fans. In other words, they
were categorized in the same group without any consideration. While some of these fans came
from different Arabic-speaking countries, some others were not even Arabic-speaking, such as
fans from Iran.
Therefore, this monolithic categorization shows how international fans from the Middle
East become the “Oriental” other for the Turkish media.
27
This tendency becomes more interesting
once the colonial history of the region is considered. At the same time, this complex relationship
provides an interesting case study for understanding how the current multidirectionality of
television flows configure global power dynamics. The depiction of these international fans in
Turkish media reveals that the result of this change is not a more egalitarian system. Instead, new
layers are introduced in the existing Western-centric hierarchy.
As I explain further in my first chapter, cultural specificity and cultural proximity
explanations are embedded in the discussion of Neo-Ottomanism,
††
which locates Turkey as
“somewhere between the West and the East” in terms of secularism and modernity. According to
these explanations, usually described as a bridge in between the East and the West, Turkey offered
cultural proximity to viewers in the region, which I explore further in my first chapter. However,
the news coverage also included notes about how critics were troubled with Turkish TV shows’
“Western” morals. Still, the worth of exports
*
climbed up from $10,000 to $200,000,000 between
2004 and 2012. The rise of Turkey as a regional center of production went hand in hand with the
Western discourses on Turkey becoming a democratic model for the Middle Eastern countries
after 9/11. While the linguistic similarities are limited, the borders of Turkish melodramas’ success

††
For examples of such discussions, see Al-Ghazzi and Kraidy, “Turkey, the Middle East & the Media”
and Çevik, “Turkish Soap Opera Diplomacy,” 6.

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17
are reminiscent of the borders of the Ottoman Empire. In that context, Turkey’s status as a regional
center complicates the attributions of improvement attached to multidirectionality of flows.
Although Turkish television content rivals Western content in its neighboring countries, it is not
possible to say that this diversity de facto brings cultural democratization. On the contrary, new
flows indicate a new domination replacing the older one.
The increased visibility of audiences further complicates these flows. The popularity of
Turkish melodramas in the region is also driven by vocal support of fans online. The visibility of
these fans transitions from the online sphere to physical space as they come to Turkey to visit the
shooting locations of their favorite shows. The increasing number of tourists coming from the
region has been associated with the popularity of the Turkish melodramas. Therefore, the photo of
Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ fans taking his picture is not surprising news for Turkish media.

Figure 1.3 Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ and fans. Retrieved from:
http://img1.aksam.com.tr/imgsdisk/2015/03/29/290320150057248840083.jpg
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18
However, as I briefly mention above, the discourses around the depiction of these fans is
very problematic as almost every platform hosting the pictures describes these fans simply as
“Arab” fans based on their appearances. Any fan from the region is marked with the linguistic
group of identification. While Arabic language is predominant in the Middle East, it is not the only
language spoken in the region. Besides, ethnic and national identities appear alongside (or instead
of) linguistic identities. Here, the positioning of foreign fans as the “Oriental” other for the Turkish
media supports Daya Kishan Thussu’s warnings against labelling contra-flows originating outside
the West as empowering without taking a closer look at them
28
. Thussu’s critique can be located
within the larger debates around the hierarchy hidden in multidirectionality of television flows in
the age of digitalization.

Global Television Flows and the Question of Multidirectionality

Television flows have long been studied as a way to understand power dynamics between countries
participating in the global television market. Theories of cultural imperialism situate content flows
from core countries in the West to peripheral countries as an extension of hegemonic power.
‡‡

Earlier theories of cultural imperialism had used lack of agency and lack of multidirectionality as
evidence of Western hegemony. Emerging from the critique of neocolonialism, theories of cultural
imperialism described a new form of colonialism replacing the previously exercised politico-
military forms of domination.
29

These theories of cultural imperialism and media imperialism have been criticized for
depicting a monolithic representation of the difference between “the colonial” and “the colonized”

‡‡
For examples of this approach, see Mattelart, Introduction in Communication and Class Struggle;
Roach, “Cultural Imperialism and Resistance; and Boyd-Barrett, “Media Imperialism.”

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19
without considering the interpretive differences surveyed by examples such as the work of Elihu
Katz and Tamar Liebes.
30
However, there have been suggestions from within the discipline to
remedy these shortcomings. For example, while John Tomlinson questions cultural imperialism’s
treatment of homogenization as something unwanted without considering possible positive
effects,
31
Armand Mattelart also acknowledges the polysemy in audiences’ interpretation.
Similarly, scholars like Stuart Hall and Ien Ang emphasize the importance of interpretive
differences.
32
Moreover, the more recent rise of regional centers along with the multidirectional
television flows associated with it have raised questions about equating the movement of content
with hegemony.
In his book Modernity at Large, Arjun Appadurai similarly discusses the shortcomings of
the existing theories of developmentalism and dependency in terms of studying global cultural
economy:
The new global cultural economy has to be seen as a complex, overlapping, disjunctive
order that cannot any longer be understood in terms of existing center-periphery models
(even those that might account for multiple centers and peripheries). Nor is it susceptible
to simple models of push and pull (in terms of migration theory), or of surpluses and
deficits (as in traditional models of balance of trade), or of consumers and producers (as in
most neo-Marxist theories of development). Even the most complex and flexible theories
of global development that have come out of the Marxist tradition (Amin 1980, Mandel
1978, Wallerstein 1974
;
Wolf 1982) are inadequately quirky and have failed to come to
terms with what Scott Lash and John Urry have called disorganized capitalism (1987). The
complexity of the current global economy has to do with certain fundamental disjunctures
between economy, culture, and politics that we have only begun to theorize.
33

After emphasizing the need for a new approach, Appadurai presents his suggestion:
I propose that an elementary framework for exploring such disjunctures is to look at the
relationship among five dimensions of global cultural flows that can be termed (a)
ethnoscapes, (b) mediascapes, (c) technoscapes, (d) financescapes, and (e) ideoscapes.

The suffix -scape allows us to point to the fluid, irregular shapes of these landscapes,
shapes that characterize international capital as deeply as they do international clothing
styles. These terms with the common suffix -scape also indicate that these are not
objectively given relations that look the same from every angle of vision but, rather, that
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20
they are deeply perspectival constructs, inflected by the historical, linguistic, and political
situatedness of different sorts of actors: nation-states, multinationals, diasporic
communities, as well as subnational groupings and movements (whether religious, political,
or economic), and even intimate face-to-face groups, such as villages, neighborhoods, and
families. Indeed, the individual actor is the last locus of this perspectival set of landscapes,
for these landscapes are eventually navigated by agents who both experience and constitute
larger formations, in part from their own sense of what these landscapes offer.
These landscapes thus are the building blocks of what (extending Benedict Anderson) I
would like to call imagined worlds, that is, the multiple worlds that are constituted by the
historically situated imaginations of persons and groups spread around the globe (chap. 1).
An important fact of the world we live in today is that many persons on the globe live in
such imagined worlds (and not just in imagined communities)and thus are able to contest
and sometimes even subvert the imagined worlds of the official mind and of the
entrepreneurial mentality that surround them.
34

While underlining the inefficiency of spatial models of explanation, Appadurai identifies five
dimensions of global cultural flows. He also argues that there might be disjunctures and differences
between these different dimensions. Although the complexity of cultural flows is recognized in
the literature, the spatial aspect of the term still retains its importance for television studies.
As another model of media globalization, the “flows model” reflects a similar awareness
of global mobility of television content. While the earlier conceptualization of television flow by
Raymond Williams focuses on the continuous experience of watching programs and commercials,
the more recent use has a more global connotation.
35
Denise Bielby and Lee Harrington elaborate
on this more recent use by giving an example: “[...] flow refers to the movement of television
programs and formats through different world markets. For example, the US daytime soap The
Bold and the Beautiful currently airs in over 100 different markets in at least 45 languages.”
36
As
I previously mentioned, the model of flows uniquely unites “carriage and content” for analytical
purposes.
37
This unification carries more importance in today’s world as digitalization has opened
new forms of circulation. Viewers can access foreign content without waiting for the formal
program sales, which allows international buyers to broadcast TV shows on their channels. In
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21
addition to appearing on television, these TV shows also travel on the internet through legal and
illegal forms of access.
This unification of “carriage” and “content” echoes the predominant perception of
television explored by Nitin Govil, who compares the travelling of television content to films: “[...]
film is about location and place, while television is about space, which is why it, and not cinema,
informs an entire discourse of flow. We continue to presume that, as an object, film needs to be
packaged in order to travel; while, as a service, television travels seemingly of its own accord.”
38

That perceptive difference also reveals the reason for the quick adoption of the flows model by
global television studies.
Although she focuses on image flows, Tiziana Terranova’s discussion of flows as a model
of mobility similarly reveals the model’s capacity to visualize agency and structure by uniting
carriage and content, as suggested by Albert Moran. Terranova explains this dual potential with
an emphasis on image flows:
Image flows are thus no floating signifiers, but they work as material forces by virtue of
their very differentials. They move at different speeds, have different paces, and their
relationship with the world of solids is rather complicated. They do not just ‘smooth’ solids
(as in pebbles or in the solid borders of national territories), but they sort them out (as rivers
sort out different types of stone or as communication channels sort out different audiences).

This explanation works for understanding the changing context of television flows. An awareness
of the possibility of exporting has an effect on content producers’ production processes. Besides,
unauthorized flows via online sharing and piracy appear along with authorized flows. In both cases,
an immediate and increased awareness of television content paves the way for new channels of
access. Digitalization and the increasing levels of internet use have contributed to that awareness,
which supports the enhanced sense of cultural connection associated with globalization. This goes
hand in hand with the online presence of viewers, who use digital technologies for multiple
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22
purposes. These viewers support their favorite shows and actors while expressing their demands
on social media. They resort to unauthorized channels of access online, but also take time to share
the content they acquire or create. They also use the internet for activist purposes, which are not
limited to entertainment-related concerns. The visibility of these viewers suggests an increased
sense of agency, which goes beyond the interpretive power attributed to the audiences via
polysemy.
39

This attribution of agency is similar to the agency attributed to the new regional centers of
production. However, there is no consensus on the exact description of media flows passing
national borders, which might have more complicated power implications. Henry Jenkins, Sam
Ford and Joshua Green explain that they use “transnational” instead of “global” due to the uneven
nature of the flows.
40
Similarly, formats can be described as “global”
41
or “transnational”
42
. Daya
Kishan Thussu further complicates this lack of consensus on categorization.
43
According to his
categorization, “global flows” refers to hegemonic flows originating from the West, while
“transnational flows” and “geocultural flows” provide examples of subaltern flows.
44
After
distinguishing these hegemonic “dominant flows” originating from the global North from the
“subaltern flows” originating from the peripheries, though, Thussu warns against treating subaltern
flows as empowering as dominant flows.
45
According to Thussu, treating both types equally is
problematic since subaltern flows, which Thussu also calls contra-flows, might help reconfigure
the hegemony of Western powers.
46
This warning is important for understanding how the
newfound visibility of global television flows might be mistaken as empowering for new producers,
and moreover, how this visibility veils the continuous lack of production in many other parts of
the world.
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23
In this context, unlike Thussu, I prefer to use “global” interchangeably with “transnational”
to describe television flows including finished programs and formats. While the use of
“transnational” indicates the uneven nature of flows, using “global” helps depict the issues shared
by theories of globalization and the flows model.
As part of the studies inspired by the newfound visibility of global television flows, format
adaptations provide interesting cases for analysis. Although literature mostly focuses on the
relationship between the growth of format adaptations and the increase in demand for content
following the post-1980s’ trends of deregulation and liberalization, Andreas Fickers and Catherine
Johnson also emphasize the pre-existing flows of personnel and technology associated with
circulated programs.
47

Format adaptations, which are also part of this newfound visibility, reveal the need to
address cultural specificities while travelling across borders. As previously mentioned, Tasha Oren
and Sharon Shahaf define format thus: “In its most basic, legally sanctioned, form, it is a program
concept: a list of ‘rules’ or conventions that make up the fixed and distinct aspects of each
program.”
48
According to this definition, there are rules that unite all adaptations through
guidelines incorporated in the “Show Bible” and in the contractual agreements. At the same time,
there are cultural specificities to be considered. In his article “McTV: Understanding the Global
Popularity of Television Formats,” Silvio Waisbord elaborates on this need to balance both
concerns via the processes of “glocalization”: “Because formats are conceived as flexible formula,
traces of national belonging are downplayed and even eradicated. The result is a pasteurized,
transnational product detached from national cultures.”
49
However, this process of glocalization
does not necessarily indicate a trend toward cultural democracy.
50
Joseph Straubhaar similarly
argues that “cultural proximity” enables the flow of content.
51
Regional and linguistic similarities
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24
pave the way for easier acceptance of content independent of the content’s status as a finished
product or a format adaptation. Both “glocalization” and “cultural proximity” arguments will be
revisited throughout my project as I investigate the Turkish case.
In addition to different theoretical perspectives, scholars have approached this new context
of television flows from different methodological angles. For example, while discussing today’s
context of global television flows, scholars like Straubhaar and Waisbord have focused more on
the industry.
52
Their studies pay more attention to the course of flows and elements of production
such as low production costs, the tested success of shows originating from other countries and the
role of trade fairs. Although the role of cultural proximity is acknowledged, aesthetic aspects
receive less attention. The role of genre similarly comes up in studies of what travels better.
53

Rather than being treated as stand-alone subjects, culture, language and narrative are studied as
parameters of production even when the unequal nature of global flows is addressed.
54
These
macro analyses might mention aesthetic implications briefly, yet more extensive surveys of
aesthetics focus on the national context instead of transnational flows. Format studies provide rare
exceptions and address both macro and micro levels of analyses by touching on aesthetics to
discuss cultural specificities.
§§
Looking at format trades also helps to explore categorical
differences between different types of content such as reality formats, scripted dramas and
comedies, while questioning theories of globalization. However, in-depth surveys of aesthetics
mostly remain tangential instead of being incorporated at the center. Even when the narrative and
aesthetic influences of flows beyond format adaptations
55
are discussed, the emphasis remains on
the production perspective rather than the importance of cultural relativity. Studies focusing more

§§
For examples of these studies, see: Oren and Shahaf, Global Television Formats; Chalaby, “Drama
without Drama”; and Chalaby, “Advent of the Transnational TV Format Trading System.”

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25
on cultural relativity take a closer look at content as a text while paying attention to aesthetics.
***

Nevertheless, connections between those macro and micro levels of analyses are not fully explored
in the context of global television flows. This distinction is reminiscent of earlier debates about
political economy and cultural studies. However, it functions more subtly as problems of access
such as language make it harder for scholars to compare content from different parts of the world.
My project is an intervention in this distinction.
The current context of digitalization makes this intervention more urgent. Digitalization
has altered viewing habits. Although many still watch television in their living rooms just like the
first television viewers did, many others access content via their computers. Both networks and
cable channels have followed the lead of paid online streaming services such as Netflix to make
content accessible online. Unauthorized circulation takes place online at the same time, as peer-
to-peer file sharing services, one-click-hosting sites and online streaming sites provide users—
once known as viewers—with new platforms of access. Therefore, content creators now resort to
discourses of quality in order to secure the loyalty of viewers, who now have more options to
choose from thanks to digital technologies. The digitalization of television content, which has
made online circulation easier, has also exacerbated the effects of time-shifting technologies. Once
people deviated from traditional forms of appointment viewing, quality programming became a
strategic solution to re-attract viewers back to television by catering to niche preferences in the
American context.
This interesting relationship between quality programming and digital technologies in the
U.S. context now has global repercussions. The new Turkish online streaming platforms BluTV
and puhutv, as well as their original programming, which I will explore more in my second chapter,

***
For such examples, see Brunsdon, Structure of Anxiety; McCabe and Akass, Quality TV.
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26
provide a chance to see how Anglo-American quality standards are globalizing with online
streaming technologies. When considered alongside the regional success of Turkish melodramas,
these quality programming standards help illuminate the hierarchical nature of global television
markets.
The success of Turkish shows in the Middle East and the producers’ struggle to enter the
Western European and Northern American markets demonstrates a complexity, which allows me
to move between analyses of the domestic and transnational markets while paying attention to the
text and the context at the same time. Turkey provides a rich case study to further explore the
dynamics of content flows originating from non-Western geographies. The lack of interest in
Turkish scripted formats in the American context, despite Turkish producers’ success in selling
finished melodramas to the surrounding region shows another layer of flows within the stratified
system of transnational television flows. The extent of this regional influence is supported by
colonial routes and networks inherited from the Ottoman Empire. As Turkish content travels in a
shared cultural space built on these routes and networks, an important question becomes relevant:
Do television flows originating from Turkey replicate older power structures and hegemonies
rather than challenge them?
With new centers like Turkey emerging and content outside the Anglo-American world
gaining visibility, the emerging centers of productions and their content appear as evidence of
multidirectionality in mainstream media coverage (and in literature). This multidirectionality
appears as a possible indicator of the on-going power shift in global media markets. My goal is to
study multidirectionality by looking at the content and its movement as well as the limits and
barriers faced by the content originating from peripheral centers of production like Turkey.

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Hierarchies of Multidirectionality and Anglo-American Quality

Following the spread of format of adaptations in the early 2000s, television flows started to attract
more attention in literature. The current context of television flows has been described as a
deviation from existing power structures.
56
While post-1980s trends towards deregulation and
privatization contributed to demand for exports, new directions became more visible with the
popularity of format adaptations in the late 1990s. In particular, the success of reality formats
originating from Europe—mostly from the UK and the Netherlands—contributed to the newfound
interest in transnational television flows. After these formats first emerged as cheaper alternatives
to American programs,
57
their success led them to be exported. Scholars soon started to discuss
the importance of cultural specificities for processes of adaptation. This emphasis on production
differed from earlier studies’ focus on interpretative differences.
†††

Moreover, new centers of production challenged earlier models which situated the US
(along with Western Europe) as “the center” while treating the rest of the world as “the periphery.”
In this context, the volume and content of recent flows contributed to globalization discourses,
which treated multidirectionality as evidence against cultural imperialism theories. This new wave
of flows differed from earlier flows like the global circulation of Dallas because content
originating from production centers beyond the US entered the picture. The popularity of Latin
American telenovelas in the early 1990s, the success of Dutch reality television formats beginning
in the late 1990s and the strengthening of new centers of production such as Israel, Denmark,
Korea and Turkey raised questions about Anglo-American hegemony. As content from different
parts of the world gained visibility in the global markets, those who celebrated globalization started

†††
The most well-know examples would be: Katz and Liebes, “Decoding Dallas”; and Ang, Watching
“Dallas”.

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28
to refer to multidirectional television flows as proof of a changing system of power. Mainstream
media and trade journals celebrated peripheral content as a manifestation of globalization and
democratization.
The visibility of these new centers of content creation was mirrored by the newfound digital
visibility of viewers. With digitalization, marginalized communities of fans gained a platform to
voice their opinions. Marketing experts and academic scholars previously tried to understand
audiences by asking them questions using interviews or questionnaires. Thanks to the internet,
more viewers’ voices carried and they were able to share their opinions without being prompted
with research questions. Furthermore, individual use of digital technologies strengthened viewers’
capability to alter and circulate content online. Also, producers started looking to fans’ online
activities to measure their shows’ success. The visibility of viewers/fans contributed to claims of
increased audience agency. Multidirectionality lies at the heart of the connection between the
visibilities mentioned above and the changing power status quo. Therefore, those who see
globalization as a deviation from hegemonic inequalities see both the periphery and the viewers as
empowered actors rather than consumers standing at the passive end of reception.
Nevertheless, the extent of these new centers’ influence is still limited considering that
North American and Western European markets remain resistant to flows originating from new
centers. Despite the ongoing exchange of television content across the Atlantic, the US market is
difficult to breach even for European producers. Western European shows have managed to gain
a foothold in North American markets to some extent, but the platform of access seems to be
decisive for their survival. These dramas–such as Les Revenants (2012-2015) and Broadchurch
(2013-2017)—do moderately well as finished programs on cable and online streaming platforms.
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29
Once they are adapted for network television, though, they fail to get high enough ratings to stay
on air.
While the channel of access emerges as an important variable to evaluate the
multidirectionality of television flows in general, online streaming appears to be the greatest game
changer in terms of making international content more accessible. As the examples of Les
Revenants and Broadchurch show, online streaming platforms house foreign content that would
not otherwise make it on the television screen. On MIP Markets’ YouTube channel, Anette Romer,
Head of Acquisitions & Formats at TV2 (Denmark) and a member of the MIP Drama Buyer
Advisory Board, explains this phenomenon thus: “The advent of streaming means there’s a global
audience for any title.”
58
At first glance, this seems like an opportunity for new centers of media
production, who can sell content to online streaming platforms in different parts of the world.
These new centers of production can also carry their content abroad by expanding their own online
streaming services beyond national borders. However, this theoretical advantage is veiled by the
practical dominance of Anglo-American content and the strong globalization of U.S. online
streaming services. In other words, online streaming continues to work mostly in favor of existing
powerholders in the system. Anglo-American quality content still appears to be the winner in this
context.
Digital platforms like Netflix are particularly effective at disseminating characteristics
attributed to Anglo-American quality shows, since they prefer to cater to niche audiences whom
domestic mainstream channels tend to neglect. In a way, “quality programming” emerges as a
brand marker for these digital platforms of access. What becomes a brand marker in the U.S.
market becomes a global identifier once these platforms expand to new territories around the world.
By providing viewers from different parts of the world easier access, these services also familiarize
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30
global audiences with quality programming. Emerging local streaming services mimic this model
and aim to produce such shows to attract viewers to their platforms by applying the same standards
to their originals. Unsurprisingly, Turkish streaming services BluTV and puhutv follow this route
in terms of branding themselves as quality content providers and marketing their first Turkish
originals, Masum and Fi, respectively, as quality content.
Therefore, exploring global television flows with reference to their adherence to Anglo-
American quality programming standards complicates the assumed correlation between
multidirectionality and empowerment. While the extent of this multidirectionality has been
questioned in terms of the volume and impact of content originating from the periphery, the role
of quality programming discourses in configuring global television flows has not been fully
explored in literature. Quality programming has become increasingly important for the American
market as digitalization has enabled satellite channels and time-shifting technologies. With the rise
of cable, niche programming, which is associated with quality content, gained strength. This cable
connection also frames the interaction between income levels and quality content preference.
These class implications in the American context raise similar questions of access in relation to
global flows of television.
As briefly mentioned above, while quality programming entering the American market
performs better on cable channels and paid online streaming platforms like Netflix, they have
lower survival rates on network television. Moreover, both authorized and unauthorized forms of
online access in different parts of the world are influenced by levels of digital literacy. In other
words, audiences’ capability of access functions as a barrier to global television flows. Income
levels influence cable and online streaming service subscriptions for authorized forms of viewing.
Having internet access and a digital skill set are prerequisites for accessing pirated content online.
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31
These barriers of access interact with the barrier established by the categorical definition of quality
programming. As the example of Son shows, content that complies with the Anglo-American
definition of quality programming enters the Western markets via authorized channels.
‡‡‡

Therefore, people who lack the economic and/or technological means to watch peripheral content
are only exposed to foreign content curated by networks and cable companies. The interaction of
these barriers also provides a chance to survey class implications inherent within global flows of
television.

While the American standards of quality inform what content can enter the American
market, scripted content from new centers of production can rarely pass that threshold. These
centers thrive on reality formats and melodramas, which rarely qualify as quality programming
according to the Anglo-American classifications. Before moving on to how the juxtaposition of

‡‡‡
I will provide a more detailed survey of literature on quality programming in my second chapter.

Figure 1.4 Deadline.com Screenshot: Ultimately, being capable of selling content to the West appears to be the major defining
factor while evaluating the success of new centers of production. Retrieved from: https://deadline.com/2014/04/turkey-
televisioin-industry-formats-on-rise-miptv-711365/
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melodramas and quality programming impacts the course of transnational television flows, it is
necessary to mention melodrama’s already lower rank in the hierarchy of the Anglo-American
world. Associated with female viewership, melodramas and soap operas are seen as low-quality
content
§§§
. Melodramas and soaps originating from different parts of the world bear a similar mark
of “non-quality.” Needless to say, these associations have serious gender and racial implications.
The statement of Kim Moses,
59
the producer of Son’s American version at the MIPCOM panel in
2015, reveals how these implications are exacerbated within the context of global television flows.
While describing how they emphasized the thriller elements instead of the family melodrama
elements in Son, Sanders says they think the show will do well with Latin audiences in the U.S. In
other words, Moses targets “peripheral elements” in the core with “peripheral” Turkish
melodramas.
This explains why the earlier success of Brazilian telenovelas and the current rise of Korean
and Turkish melodramas are also disqualified according to this Anglo-American definition of
quality. Although they have difficulty entering the Western markets, these melodramas circulate
heavily in the periphery. In that context, Israel provides a unique exception as a peripheral content
creator. Israeli producers were able to enter the American market more successfully than content
creators from other peripheral centers could. Nevertheless, the success of finished Israeli programs
and formats has also depended on conforming to the American definition of quality programming.
Examples like In Treatment (2008-2010), Homeland (2011-2018), and its Israeli original Hatufim
(The Prisoners of War, 2009-2012) carry indicators of quality such as complex narrative structures,
higher production values and bolder subject matters. Moreover, Israeli content entering the

§§§
For more on this discussion, see Kuhn, “Women’s genres,” 145-154; and Gledhill, “Relationship
between Soap Opera and Melodrama, 103-124.

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33
American market also incorporates the post-9/11 theme of global terror, which is already prevalent
in American television. Although quality content is more difficult to adapt since it is more
expensive to produce, that concern is less valid for Western producers. Unlike producers in the
periphery who face relatively constrained budgets, American producers have the resources to adapt
quality content.
Therefore, the lack of adaptations as well as the limited numbers of finished programs—
mostly appearing on cable or on streaming platforms rather than network television—are revealing
in terms of the limits of multidirectionality. While it is possible to see quality programming as a
response to increasing digitalization in the American context, “quality” also becomes a mediating
factor of power in the global markets as it defines what kind of content can travel in what context.
Generic labels attached to content travelling around the world are not just about the genre
conventions. These labels insinuate a kind of judgement that is indicative of quality. Therefore,
understanding the rise of quality programming helps explore inequalities embedded in global
television markets.
Scholars
****
have previously contested “quality” as an objective analytical category to
study television. Without a doubt, the definition of quality is clearly informed by subjective
preferences as well as the context of use. It is necessary to question what quality means in different
contexts to avoid prioritizing a hegemonic definition that corresponds to the HBO type of quality
programming. However, understanding that hegemonic definition helps us see how the extent of
multidirectionality is limited by it. Compliance with Anglo-American quality programming
standards dictates the course of television flows. However, building upon what Robert Thompson

****
For more on this discussion, see Brunsdon, “Problems with Quality,” 67-90; and McCabe and Akass,
Quality TV.

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34
says on how quality is defined more by what it is not instead of what it is,
60
I would like to explore
Turkish melodramas—which rarely qualify as “quality.” The rise of this genre in the Turkish case
allows to me to explore how “global” and “local” are intertwined. Format adaptations, increasing
expertise, exposure to international television markets and trends helps trace the global elements
in exoticized Turkish melodramas.

From Sitcoms to Melodramas: Adaptation, Expertise and Maturation in the Turkish Case

Although the popularity of Turkish melodramas in global markets has been studied and the role of
Turkish format exports has been acknowledged in terms of creating new networking possibilities
for producers and distributors, possible connections between this popularity and the earlier success
of format adaptations in the domestic market remain unexplored. For example, Bilge Yesil
mentions the integration of global markets and standards as a prerequisite for Turkish success: “In
light of the volatility of the home market and the prospect of new revenue sources in foreign
markets, Turkish producers have focused on developing the kinds of universally appealing themes
and genre elements [...].”
61
I would like to elaborate further on the role of different forms of
adaptations in improving the quality of production in order to historicize the rising popularity of
Turkish content in the global market. An investigation of improvements in production quality is
crucial to understanding the maturation of the domestic market and the success of drama exports
originating from Turkey.
Melodramas started to claim a bigger role in the domestic market as their international
popularity increased. With their success, an earlier emphasis on sitcom adaptations lost strength.
Possibly due to this transition, the earlier emphasis on importing and adapting formats has received
less attention. Considering the birth of private channels in the 1990s and the popularity of format
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35
adaptations beginning in the late 1990s, a look at the Turkish case reveals that television production
in Turkey mirrored the global trends of privatization and liberalization followed by an increase in
format adaptations until the melodrama boom.
††††

Private channel Star 1 began to broadcast in the 1990s, soon followed by many others. As
the late 1990s witnessed the popularity of format adaptations in content-quenched domestic
markets from all around the world, Turkish television channels experimented with reality format
adaptations such as Biri Bizi Gözetliyor (2000) based on the Dutch format Big Brother (1999), and
various sitcom adaptations. A new wave of sit-com adaptations followed the period of reality
format adaptation. Medyapım’s Dadı (2001-2002), one of the earlier adaptations to become
popular, was based on The Nanny (1993-1999).
The Nanny eventually gained global success as a format and was also adapted in other
countries such as Argentina, Greece, Poland and Russia. The Turkish adaptation brought together
Turkish singer Gülben Ergen and famous theatre actors Haldun Dormen and Kenan Işık. Since the
twenty-minute episodes were too short for Turkish television standards, the production company
and the channel, Show TV, chose to air two episodes back to back in order to adapt to Turkish
runtimes. The popularity of the show inspired many other sit-com adaptations including Tatlı
Hayat (2001-2004) (The Jeffersons, 1975-1985) and Aslı ile Kerem (2002) (Dharma and Greg,
1997-2002). Both the reality format and sitcom adaptations had lower production values compared
to scripted dramas, which enabled burgeoning producers to make them with less difficulty.
Therefore, it is helpful to look at format trades to explore categorical differences between different
types of content such as reality formats, scripted dramas and comedies while exploring the

††††
The following sources provide an extensive summary of this global transformation: Bielby and
Harrington, Global TV; Chalaby, “Making of an Entertainment Revolution”; and Waisbord, “McTV”.

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importance of learning processes and expertise for the rise of new centers of production.
‡‡‡‡
Jean
Chalaby
62
elaborates on that categorical difference as he surveys the economics of production and
distribution for scripted and non-scripted formats. Chalaby’s analysis brings attention to the higher
risk of failure and the more challenging process of cultural translation involved for the scripted
drama adaptations compared to the non-scripted ones.
63

Once the transition from reality format and sitcom adaptations to scripted drama
adaptations is considered, the power of adaptations in increasing production quality and expertise
becomes clearer. Adapting sitcoms contributed to Turkish content creators’ expertise in format
adaptations and as their expertise increased, scripted format adaptations followed a series of reality
show and sitcom adaptations. Doktorlar (The Doctors, 2006-2011), which was based on Grey’s
Anatomy (2005-on), similarly starred another Turkish singer, Kutsi, and became an instant hit.
More recently, the Turkish adaptation of The O.C. (2003-2007), Medcezir (2013-2015), achieved
a big success in terms of ratings. Some of these scripted adaptations such as Medcezir are also
exported as finished programs. The increased expertise in adaptation influences the production
quality, which makes the show more marketable as an export.
Although airing two episodes back-to-back helped solve the runtime difference for sitcom
adaptations, overcoming runtime differences became harder for drama adaptations as Turkish
drama runtimes have continued to increase in the last ten years. While most American dramas run
for forty minutes, Turkish shows’ runtimes fall between ninety to one hundred and ten minutes.
Apart from adding more characters into the mix, Turkish producers resort to featuring full-length
songs to solve this problem. Medcezir, the Turkish adaptation of The O.C., is one of the most

‡‡‡‡
Two helpful articles to map the rise of format adaptations are: Chalaby, “Drama without Drama,” 1-
18; and Chalaby, “Advent of the Transnational TV Format Trading System.”

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37
successful examples of this choice. With a story arc about the female lead wanting to go to a
conservatory despite her mother’s protests, the show introduced an organic way to incorporate
songs in the narrative.
However, adaptations are not the only shows that have runtime problems. Long runtimes
remain a challenge for all Turkish shows in general. The writers, the director, the cast and the crew
face brutal work hours as they fill over ninety-minute-long episodes each week. Also, these
Turkish shows have more than thirty episodes per season, which makes the schedule very
demanding. The recently formed Actors’ Union and Screenwriters’ Association (Senaryo
Yazarları Derneği) have worked to change these standards in the last few years. This length
challenge also paved the way for slow-paced storytelling for Turkish television. Recurring
comparisons to telenovelas, which appear both in industry journals and mainstream publications
discussing Turkish melodramas, can be partially associated with this slow-paced storytelling.
While producers gained expertise by adapting international formats including scripted
formats, another form of adaptation gained momentum with the rising popularity of melodramas.
A series of adaptations of novels became popular around the same time. Beginning with late
Ottoman-early Republican era novelist Reşat Nuri Güntekin’s Yaprak Dökümü (The Fall of Leaves,
2005-2010), more shows based on older novels started to attract attention. Other adaptations based
on novels such as Dudaktan Kalbe (From the Lips to the Heart, 2007-2009) and Aşk-ı Memnu
(Forbidden Love, 2008-2010) became successful both domestically and internationally.
Although the new popularity of these adaptations based on older source material is
associated with the recent claims of neo-Ottoman revivalism,
64
which I will explore below, these
novels had already been adapted for cinema and television in the past. For example, Aşk-ı Memnu
had been previously adapted by TRT, Turkish public broadcaster, in 1975. Unlike the new version,
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38
TRT’s miniseries had preserved the original context of the story, whereas the more recent versions
adapted the stories to the contemporary era. The producers’ comfort in updating the content to a
contemporary time setting instead of adhering to the original setting is evidence of increasing
expertise in adaptations. The success of format adaptations like Dadı (The Nanny), Tatlı Hayat
(The Jeffersons) and Doktorlar (Grey’s Anatomy), which I mentioned above, contributed to this
expertise.
Turkish channels’ preference to experiment with these adaptations is expected considering
the success of Yaprak Dökümü. These adaptations are also important in relation to the industry’s
increasing expertise in reusing and recycling content. While adapting foreign formats requires
attention to cultural specificities, adapting older novels to contemporary context requires a less
drastic but still significant level of cultural analysis. As the producers’ command of the processes
of adaptation strengthened, they began to utilize their expertise in making new forms of adaptations.
In other words, format adaptations helped expanding the content creators’ skill set.
The novel adaptations need to be considered along with television shows based on older
films, which also started to appear more on screen. Earlier examples like Bir İstanbul Masalı (An
Istanbul Fairytale, 2003-2005), which is loosely based on Sabrina (1954/1995), were followed by
other shows such as Gönülçelen (2010) based on My Fair Lady (1964). Older Turkish films like
İffet (1982) were also adapted to the television screen (İffet, 2011) in the early 2010s. These
examples show that the maturation of the Turkish television industry incorporates a multi-sided
expertise in developing adaptations.
Global influence, which is part of the maturation process, can even be identified in
Muhteşem Yüzyıl (2011-2014), one of the most successful regional exports. Apart from the
association with the Ottoman imperial expansion through the export of TV programs, neo-Ottoman
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39
cool gains a thematic layer with this show because of its Ottoman-era setting. Therefore, neo-
Ottomanism becomes visually and thematically embodied in the content, which is different than
its previous association with the spread of content via exports.
Muhteşem Yüzyıl, which is set during the reign of Kanuni Sultan Süleyman, became an
instant success in Turkey after its debut. By embroidering historical facts with fictional details,
this historical drama focused on Süleyman’s relationship with his wife Hürrem and other members
of the court. Beyond its domestic success, Muhteşem Yüzyıl was sold to over forty countries.
65

Discussing the politicization of Turkish dramas, Kumru Berfin Emre Cetin mentions earlier on-
screen adaptations of late Ottoman/early Republican novels before introducing Muhteşem Yüzyıl
as the turning point for the newfound prevalence of historical dramas:
Aside from some earlier examples such as Scrubbird (Calikusu, 1986) and Leaf Cast
(Yaprak Dokumu, 1988), which draw on the dilemmas of Turkish modernization during
the late Ottoman period of the 20th century as a background for the main characters,
Magnificent Century can be addressed as the first drama that focuses on the life of the
Ottoman dynasty.
66

The importance of Muhteşem Yüzyıl is undeniable, yet considering other earlier examples of
historical dramas, raises questions about the direct association of the Ottoman setting with neo-
Ottomanism. For example, the public broadcaster TRT had previously aired a miniseries based on
a play about Sultan Murat IV in 1981. In other words, like novel adaptations, historical dramas
made brief appearances on Turkish television in the past. IV. Murat ran for four episodes, which
is significantly shorter than Muhteşem Yüzyıl’s four seasons featuring 139 episodes. Possibly due
to the higher production costs associated with period dramas, a long running show like Muhteşem
Yüzyıl only became possible after the industry gained strength in the mid-2000s.
Following the success of Muhteşem Yüzyıl, different TV channels including the public
broadcaster TRT invested in historical dramas.
67
The political opposition saw this move as the
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40
continuation of Justice and Development Party’s (AKP) desire to reconnect with the Ottoman
heritage. According to the critics of AKP, the government tried to prioritize the conservative
Ottoman past instead of the secular Republican Revolution. The Republican identity had relied
heavily on reforms to distance itself from the empire. Critics accused the AKP of trying to reverse
that distancing. At the same time, politicians like then Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan
publicly criticized Muhteşem Yüzyıl for misrepresenting the Ottoman past by focusing on intricate
relationships in the harem.
§§§§

Nevertheless, critics continued to associate the new historical shows with the government’s
increased control of TRT and the revisionist agenda mentioned above. One of the earlier examples,
Bir Zamanlar Osmanlı (Once Upon a Time in The Ottoman Empire, 2012) on TRT did not live up
to expectations in terms of ratings, but a following miniseries about a coup attempt against the
Ottoman Sultan Abdülhamit II, Çırağan Baskını (The Raid of Ciragan, 2014), became very
successful. Other examples like Filinta (2014-On), a detective story taking place during the
Ottoman era, and Diriliş: Ertuğrul (Resurrection Ertugrul, 2014-On), a historical fiction show
about Ertuğrul, the father of the Ottoman Empire’s founder Osman I, reached domestic success.
The latter show has been exported to multiple countries.
The coexistence of these programs with Muhteşem Yüzyıl, as well as its sequel Muhteşem
Yüzyıl: Kösem (2015), shows how neo-Ottomanism becomes a platform of contestation as different
interpretations of the Ottoman past compete with each other. While Muhteşem Yüzyıl, like the BBC

§§§§
For news articles on these developments in Turkish, see:
“Başbakan Erdoğan'dan Muhteşem Yüzyıl'a ağır eleştiri,” Hürriyet, 25 Kasim 2012,
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/basbakan-erdogandan-muhtesem-yuzyila-agir-elestiri-22009998
“Arınç'tan 'Muhteşem Yüzyıl' çıkışı,” Milliyet, 7 January 2011,
http://www.milliyet.com.tr/arinc-tan-muhtesem-yuzyil-
cikisi/siyaset/siyasetdetay/07.01.2011/1336199/default.htm

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41
2/Showtime drama The Tudors (2007-2010), prioritizes the lavish life of the Ottoman court, which
is aesthetically marketable, examples like Diriliş focus on the tests and trials faced on the road
leading to the glories of the past. However, claim of authenticity is present in both interpretations
visualized by these two examples despite the acknowledged fictionalization.
The domestic political-economic context provides a rich source to explore the popularity
of historical dramas, but it is important to note that Turkey is not the only place in the world where
we observe an interest in historical stories. These shows depict the Ottoman era, but they need to
be studied in relation to the current popularity of historical dramas in different countries. Once
British-American-Italian co-production Rome (2005-2007) and British-Irish-Canadian co-
production The Tudors (2007-2010) or Korean historical dramas such as Jumong (2006-2007) and
The Princess’ Man (2011) are considered, the importance of global trends appears along with the
influence of the domestic political context on the rise of historical dramas in Turkey. It is also
possible that the popularity of historical shows in different markets has encouraged producers from
all around the world to experiment with this tested genre. Having familiarized themselves with
global content thanks to the increasing international trade, Turkish producers watch new trends
and try them. Therefore, considering the global context of production is as essential as studying
the domestic conditions. This awareness will help in understanding the power of comparison to
study the Turkish case and raise theoretical and methodological questions about the ways in which
we can study the global television market.

Now What?

As discussed above, the Turkish case provides a rich field of analysis to explore national, regional
and global power dynamics involved in television production, distribution and consumption. My
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42
goal is to explore the limits and barriers in transnational television flows originating from
Turkey—a new center of production, which has increased its export capacity in the last decade.
Turkish producers express their desire to go to “the West” while “the West” is still trying
to figure out whether that is possible or not. The success of Turkish melodramas in the Middle
East is covered with references to what audiences want. All these flows provide a chance to
observe what kind of hierarchies exist in the global television markets. While all this is happening,
the Turkish market as well as Turkish politics are going through a fast-paced transformation.
Therefore, the Turkish case offers a unique opportunity to explore how “the global” interacts with
“the local.”
As I follow these threads, I analyze how multidirectionality and “glocalization” help to
illuminate the hierarchies of power in global television markets after digitalization. While doing
so, I move between the text and the context and raise questions about the processes of production,
distribution and consumption. Despite my moving between different aspects of global television
markets, “negotiation” remains an important element in my case studies.
Building upon Stuart Hall’s work on encoding/decoding, Christine Gledhill discusses
“negotiation” by using Julie D’Acci’s feminist survey of Cagney and Lacey.
68
Gledhill explains
the connection between negotiation and meaning-making:
As a model of meaning production, negotiation conceives cultural exchange as the
intersection of processes of production and reception, in which overlapping but non-
matching determinations operate. Meaning is neither imposed, nor passively imbibed, but
arises out of a struggle or negotiation between competing frames of reference, motivation
and experience.
69

After identifying three levels of negotiation as “institutions, texts and audiences,” Gledhill
explores conflicting institutional and textual negotiations present in the production processes
before elaborating on “reception as negotiation”.
70
Moreover, Gledhill underlines the complex
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43
nature of this process by explaining how creators can be in conflict with industry players.
71
She
also warns against the differences between audiences’ “raw” readings and scholars’ concentrated
analysis based on repeated viewings in terms of reception.
72

All these warnings are relevant for my analysis. Like Gledhill suggests, I abstain from
making assumptions about the producers’ intent and the viewers’ readings. This is a thin line to
walk on while engaging with textual analysis and discussing the context of production, circulation
and consumption. Therefore, I would like to emphasize that I am also looking at the interaction
between mainstream media discourses and scholarly literature in tandem with the text. I then
discuss the text in that context.
Therefore, I start my survey in Chapter 1 by looking at Son (The End), the first Turkish
television show to enter Western European and Northern American markets. I begin by exploring
how the text interacts with mainstream identity discourses in Turkey. Then, I explain how the
Westernized identity representation of Aylin allows for the show’s mobility. The juxtaposition of
the two female leads—Turkish Aylin as the Western woman and Iranian Leyla as the “Oriental
Other”—challenges mainstream identity representation on Turkish television. At the same time,
this juxtaposition moves Aylin to “the Western” realm. As the Dutch adaptation of the show
reveals, the simple substitution of Turkish Aylin with Liv in the Dutch version allows the show to
move towards the West. In addition to this juxtaposition, the incorporation of Anglo-American
quality standards contributes to the show’s westward mobility.
Building on this lead, I explore the increasing importance of Anglo-American quality
standards in determining the direction and the platform of transnational television flows in Chapter
2. While doing that, I discuss how online streaming is an important element for the global spread
of Anglo-American quality programming standards. I focus on two new Turkish online streaming
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44
platforms, BluTV and puhutv, as well as their original shows, Masum and Fi, to show the intricate
relationship between processes of globalization and localization. Both platforms’ marketing
strategies signal towards their desire to redirect pirate online streaming back to themselves. Online
streaming traditions become part of the localization challenges. In this context, genre hybridization
emerges as an interesting glocalization strategy to deal with Anglo-American quality standards
that classify peripheral melodramas as “primetime soaps.” I end my chapter by reflecting on the
possible repercussions of this hybridization of Turkish shows’ transnational mobility in the Middle
East and throughout the globe.
Chapter 3 surveys the impact of this global spread of Anglo-American quality
programming on the Turkish market. By looking at the cases of Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun,
I present “political quality” as an alternative Turkish interpretation of quality standards. Despite
lower production values, these shows were cherished by small yet devoted fan groups. While it
was a challenge for these “cult” shows to survive domestic competition, culturally specific content
also reduced the exports potential. Once the content and the creators became vocal in their critique
of the government, both shows ended up being canceled. Although the existing episodes took
refuge in online streaming platforms, increasing political tension, the intense domestic competition
and the online move towards the Anglo-American quality standards threaten the survival of this
alternative local and political interpretation of quality.
The overall goal of my project is to show, despite the newfound multidirectionality of flows,
how Anglo-American standards still determine the course of transnational flows. While Anglo-
American quality programming emerges as an important factor, pre-existing power holders—both
globally, regionally and domestically—work towards preserving their status.

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45

Table of Figures—Introduction
Figure 1.1 MIPCOM County of Honor clip from YouTube: Clip title is “Turkish Delight”
Retrieved from: https://youtu.be/GeU62gPceqM ......................................................................... 12!
Figure 1.2 Turkish Airlines promotional campaign: The Middle Eastern fans meet Songül Öden
in the clip. Retrieved from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCI-AahMapU ....................... 15!
Figure 1.3 Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ and fans. Retrieved from:
http://img1.aksam.com.tr/imgsdisk/2015/03/29/290320150057248840083.jpg .......................... 17!
Figure 1.4 Deadline.com Screenshot: Retrieved from: https://deadline.com/2014/04/turkey-
televisioin-industry-formats-on-rise-miptv-711365/ .................................................................... 31!

1
Oren and Shahaf, Global Television Formats.

2
Banet-Weiser, Chris, and Freitas, Cable Visions, Kindle Locations 173-176.

3
Banet-Weiser, Chris, and Freitas, Kindle Locations 245-252.

4
Banet-Weiser, Chris, and Freitas.

5
Lotz, Television Will Be Revolutionized.

6
Lotz, 249.

7
Lotz, 249-250.

8
Jenner, “Is this TVIV?” 257-273.

9
Jenner, 270.

10
Pearson, “Cult Television,” 105-131.

11
Pearson quoted in Mareike Jenner’s “Is this TVIV?” 258.

12
Williams, Television: Technology and Cultural Form.

13
Bielby and Harrington, Global TV, 151.

14
Moran, TV Formats Worldwide.

15
Morton. “Core and Periphery.” 536-537.

16
Stephen Morton. “Core and Periphery.” 536-537.
17
“Bakan Şahin Behzat Ç.'ye karşı,” 7 March 2012
http://www.radikal.com.tr/turkiye/bakan-sahin-behzat-c-ye-karsi-1081036/

Önder Yılmaz, “Behzat Ç.’ye sıkı takip,” 29 April 2012,
http://www.milliyet.com.tr/behzat-c-ye-siki-takip/gundem/gundemdetay/29.04.2012/1533993/default.htm

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46

18
Cetin, 2014, p. 2478.

19
Oğuz, 2012, no pag.

20
Kraidy and Al-Ghazzi, “Neo-Ottoman Cool.”

21
Al-Ghazzi and Kraidy, “Turkey, the Middle East & the Media,” 2344.

22
Courtney Hazlett, “Scoop: For Ryan Seacrest, Show Must Go on,” Today.com, 16 December 2008,
http://www.today.com/id/28258149#.VoLQx_mLTIV

23
Michela Ardizzoni elaborates on the prevalent male voyeuristic gaze in her survey of the Italian
adaptation:http://flowtv.org/2009/02/reality-television-is-no-ground-breaking-michela-ardizzoni-
university-of-colorado-boulder/

24
Yesil, “Transnationalization of Turkish dramas,” 53.

25
“Gelinim Olur Musun Çin’e Satıldı,” Cumhuriyet, 17 March 2011,
http://www.cumhuriyet.com.tr/haber/diger/230792/_Gelinim_Olur_Musun___Cin_e_satildi_.html

26
Turkish Airlines Middle East Trip to Meet Songül Öden: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCI-
AahMapU
27
Said, Orientalism.
28
Thussu, ed. Media on the Move.

29
Boli and Lechner, The Globalization Reader, 303.

30
Katz and Liebes, “Decoding Dallas.”

31
Tomlinson, “Cultural Imperialism.”

32
Examples of their relevant work are Ang, Watching “Dallas”: Soap Opera and the Melodramatic
Imagination and Hall, “Encoding/Decoding.”

33
Appadurai, Modernity at Large, 32-33.

34
Appadurai.

35
Williams, Television: Technology and Cultural Form.

36
Harrington and Bielby, “Flow, Home, and Media Pleasures,” 834.

37
Moran, New Flows in Global TV, 12.

38
Govil, “Thinking Nationally,” 132-143.

39
Hall, “Encoding/Decoding.”

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47

40
Jenkins, Ford, and Green. Spreadable Media, 259.

41
Ferrari, “National Mike,” 142-161.

42
Straubhaar, World Television.

43
Thussu, Media on the Move.

44
Thussu, 12-13

45
Thussu, 11.

46
Thussu.

47
Fickers and Johnson, “Transnational Television History,” 5.

48
Oren and Shahaf, Global Television Formats, 2.

49
Waisbord, “McTV,” 368.

50
Waisbord, 380.

51
Straubhaar, World Television.

52
Examples of their relevant work are Straubhaar, World Television; Waisbord, “McTV: Understanding
the Global Popularity of Television Formats.”

53
Bielby and Harrington. Global TV.

54
Thussu, ed. Media on the Move.

55
Creeber, “Killing Us Softly,” 21-35.

56
Bielby and Harrington, Global TV.

57
Curtin and Shattuc, American television industry.

58
For the video interview with Romer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=PLwwdjGwnXX8Qz9XxVoXXp1BNxHzkZXEYk&v=GL3ncyPu
BhM

59
For the entire conversation, please see “Trending Topics MIPCOM 2015”via
https://youtu.be/iCzkG70hjOY

60
Thompson, Television’s Second Golden Age, 13.
61
Yesil, “Transnationalization of Turkish Dramas,” 51.

62
Chalaby, “Drama without Drama,” 15.

63
Chalaby.
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48

64
Emre Cetin, “The Politicization of Turkish Television Dramas,” 2462-2483.

65
‘Muhteşem Sektör, Muhteşem Yüzyıl,’ Bloomberg HT, 23 February 2014,
http://www.bloomberght.com/haberler/haber/1309855-muhtesem-sektor-muhtesem-yuzyil

66
Emre Cetin, “The Politicization of Turkish Television Dramas,” 2471.

67
Emre Cetin, 2472.

68
Gledhill, “Pleasurable Negotiations,” 170.

69
Gledhill, 160

70
Gledhill, 169.

71
Gledhill, 170-171.

72
Gledhill, 174.

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! 49!
Chapter 1
Crossing the Western Borders:
Women of Son

While Turkish television shows have been popular in the Middle East, the Balkans, and South
America since the early 2000s, considering their comparatively late entry, Turkish producers have
been less successful in exporting content to the Western European and North American markets.
After receiving moderate ratings in Turkey, Son (The End, 2012) was the first Turkish show to be
sold to Western Europe when the Swedish public television stv2 purchased the rights to air it with
subtitles. Although the American adaptation, Runner, did not make it on air on ABC despite the
pilot order, the Dutch and the Spanish adaptations were filmed in 2016 and 2017, respectively.
Among many other attempts to introduce Turkish shows into these new markets, Son remains the
only successful format to enter North America and Western Europe.
In this chapter, I argue that Son breaches the borders blocking Turkish television flows
with its unique portrayal of a Turkish femininity that allows for parallel East/West binaries, and
its utilization of quality programming characteristics. The show features a lead character, Aylin
(Nehir Erdoğan), that follows her desires, thus deviating from the female identity model anchored
in traditional roles of motherhood. This distinguishes Aylin from the mainstream models of
feminine identity that compete in domestic Turkish mainstream representation: the modern nation-
state model, the more traditional identity associated with the ancient Ottoman regime and the
newly emerging neo-conservative version of the latter. Aylin, who appears to conform to the
modern secular identity model at first glance, emerges as a new model. Iranian Leyla (Mehrnoush
Esmaeilpour), whose Eastern-ness validates Aylin’s Western-ness in terms of Aylin’s deviation
from the mainstream depictions of femininity in Turkey, acts as a crucial element of this identity
!
! 50!
construction. Aylin becomes more Western in Leyla’s presence. This identity construction for
Aylin’s character, which posits her a Western woman less bound to her duties as a mother, ends
up enabling Son to move towards the Western European markets.
The representation of these two women’s femininities also reveals the juxtaposition of “the
Western modern” and “the Oriental other,” providing European viewers an entry from “the
Western” side. The understanding of the East-West dichotomy here is based on discourses of
difference, and in order to avoid reproducing or essentializing these artificial discourses, it is
important to first trace them. Building on Orientalist discourses, such discussions—mostly coming
from the academic fields of political science and international relations
*
—construct the “West” as
civilized, modern, secular, and democratic, whereas the “East” becomes backward, traditional,
religious, and undemocratic. These descriptions, which appear in mainstream media coverage
(such as opinion pieces by Thomas Friedman) and are usually supported by academic expert
opinion like Huntington’s and Fukuyama’s, ignore socio-political context and historical heritage
to attribute the difference between the East and the West to their essences. Nevertheless, there are
also scholars who problematize such distinctions. For example, Ziauddin Sardar and Merryl Wyn
Davies argue that “Secularism remains the product of Europe: its concepts of freedom are to be
assessed and comprehended.”
1
They continue their refusal to accept secularism as an essential
element of democracy and modernist, which they also associate with Western colonialism, by
stating: “[S]ecularism is not a choice, certainly not a choice that arises from within.” However, it
is also necessary to mention that Sardar and Davies are criticized for “Reverse Orientalism” or
“Occidentalism” for reproducing the West vs. the East binary while criticizing the Western-centric

*
For the most well-known examples of this approach, see Fukuyama, “The End of History?” 3-18;
Huntington, “The Clash of Civilizations?” 22-49.
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! 51!
definition of democracy. Therefore, Saeed Ur-Rehman argues that their defense of the East simply
reproduces the same binary by attributing an essential value to Islamic culture.
2

My goal is to not legitimize such discursive differences or binaries, but to look at how
these differences work in nation-state identity configuration and how they appear on television. In
other words, I am interested in the circulation of the binaries between the West and the East, the
traditional and the modern, and the religious and the secular.
Similarly, I am not making any assumptions about the producers’ intentions or the
audience’s reception. Instead, I am investigating the circumstances around the fact that, so far, Son
was the first Turkish show to be purchased as a finished program in Western Europe and the first
one to be adapted for Dutch and Spanish television. The very fact that the first show to enter these
markets—both in the form of a finished program and as a format adaptation—depicts a very clear
juxtaposition of the West and the East makes the show worthy of attention. My analysis builds on
this realization and speculates on what might be the reason for Son’s westward mobility.
Therefore, after a close examination, I argue that the juxtaposition of Aylin and Leyla is
evidence of the delicate nature of the West vs. East dichotomy. Aylin can only be Western in the
presence of Leyla, whose Eastern-ness is similarly proved by Aylin’s presence. This mechanism
helps Son become an easy text to transport to Europe because the show resorts to recognizable
depictions of the East vs. West binary. The exact preservation of this dual representation in Son’s
format adaptations explains how it contributes to the show’s mobility. For example, in the case of
the Dutch adaptation, Vlucht HS13 (2016), simply substituting the Dutch character, Liv (Katja
Schuurman), for Turkish Aylin and preserving Leyla as the “Oriental Other” makes the story work.
Spectatorial expectations work in favor of West-bound flows since Liv and Aylin share Leyla as
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! 52!
their common “Oriental Other;” therefore, making the story more palatable for European
audiences.
This hybrid of family melodrama and political thriller bears resemblance to Anglo-
American quality programming, and alongside the show’s representation of the East vs. West
binary, this plays a role in easing the process of adaptation.
Scholars like Charlotte Brunsdon and Janet McCabe and Kim Akass have previously
contested “quality” as an objective analytical category to study television.
3
Without a doubt, the
definition of quality is clearly informed by subjective preferences as well as the context of use.
Nevertheless, in the Anglo-American context, scholars, tradespeople, and viewers have a similar
image in mind when a program is described as a quality show. Higher production values,
involvement of film directors and actors, in-depth character building, complex narratives, and
social critique are associated with this type of programming, which can also be called “HBO-type
quality.”
4

These generic, narrative, and aesthetic elements of quality programming inherent in Son
increase the accessibility of the text outside of Turkey. The juxtaposition of the West and the East
or the modern and the traditional becomes embedded in these generic, narrative and aesthetic
elements of quality programming. Examples like Homeland (2011) and The Honorable Woman
(2014) reveal how frequently these juxtapositions occur in quality programming.
Moreover, these dichotomies are familiar for European viewers, as Oriental discourses
have been recurrent in European history since the 16
th
Century colonial campaigns, which were
legitimized by the East’s difference from the West. In Turkey, too, the identity of the Republican
nation-state, founded in 1923, was constructed with the help of a similar juxtaposition, which
posited the new Turkish identity as secular and modern in opposition to the Ottoman identity as
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! 53!
religious and traditional. This representation has been visible on television screens throughout the
Turkish Republic’s ninety-four-year history. While mainstream media discourses in Turkey have
painted religiosity as an obstacle to modernity until now, political changes have started to
challenge this hegemonic representation under the rule of the conservative Justice and
Development Party (AKP) since 2002.
5
This increasing visibility of religiosity and the changing
dynamics of media ownership have introduced a new identity discourse incorporating modernism
and religiosity to mainstream audiences. These changing discourses in Turkey may explain Son’s
only moderate popularity domestically. In this new context, the depiction of Aylin does not fit in
well with any of these identity constructions. The Republican modern, the conservative traditional
and the emerging neo-conservative version similarly prioritize the family in women’s lives.
However, by putting her own desire to know before her family’s well-being, Aylin deviates from
all these versions.
By building upon the political context of Turkey’s on-going transformation, I will offer an
ideological textual analysis of Son to show why it, unlike other Turkish melodramas, could travel
towards the West. In order to survey how this happens, an ideological textual analysis is helpful
to connect the text and the context of production. Textual analysis is a flexible method for it
provides a chance to look at the form, style and aesthetics, as well as the meaning these construct
and/or represent. Glen Creeber lists the possibilities this method offers while explaining his interest
in television: “What interests me the most about television studies are questions of aesthetics,
ideology, discourse, narrative, genre, representation, camera work, music, casting, editing, the
script, authorship and soon. In short, I can’t get enough of the text.”
6
As Creeber acknowledges by
mentioning the works of Stuart Hall and John Fiske, the textual analysis method bears the risk of
making assumptions about audiences and reproducing “preferred meanings” or “dominant
!
! 54!
ideologies.”
7
While I am aware of this danger, I believe it is important to remember how these
“preferred meanings” dominate mainstream media coverage and influence what type of content
manages to appear on television screens and travel transnationally. In other words, whether they
are accepted by the audiences or not, these meanings have an impact on production and exports.
Drawing on the works of Douglas Kellner and Stuart Hall, Jennifer Esposito also explains how
popular culture represents and constructs cultural meanings and ideologies at the same time.
8

Esposito similarly argues that “[R]epresentations do not just reflect already determined meanings.
Instead, they help contribute to discursive understandings.”
9
My goal is to use representations to
offer discursive understandings.
What gives Son mobility towards Western Europe becomes the reason for its moderate
performance in the Middle East, therefore, making it a thought-provoking case for analysis. In this
context, I first explore the rising popularity of Turkish dramas in the Middle East. I discuss how
both academic Neo-Ottomanism arguments—which liken the popularity of Turkish shows to the
imperial spread of the Ottoman Empire—and mainstream media coverage attribute this popularity
to the more egalitarian gender configuration offered by these Turkish shows, as well as the cultural
proximity between these countries. Then, I identify how this configuration interacts with identity
discourses and representation prevalent in Turkish Republican history. In the specific case of Son,
the juxtaposition between Turkish Aylin and Iranian Leyla provides an insight into changing
dynamics between the modern/secular/Republican identity representation, the
traditional/conservative identity representation inherited from the Ottoman Empire and the newly
emerging neo-conservative identity representation associated with AKP rule as briefly mentioned
above. This juxtaposition, intertwined with Anglo-American quality programming standards, is
!
! 55!
crucial in understanding why Son did not perform well in the Turkish market and did not gain
popularity in the region, but proved to be the most successful Turkish scripted format in Europe.

Turkish Drama Exports and Neo-Ottomanism

In 2012, Son’s release year, the domestic market had already become very competitive as power
dynamics changed following an important rise in Turkish television exports. After being situated
at the receiving end of global television trades for a long time, Turkey gained prominence as a
finished program and format exporter over the last decade. While Turkish reality formats such as
Gelinim Olur Musun? (The Perfect Bride, 2004) started to circulate as templates for adaptation
first, Turkey’s rise became more prominent with the increasing popularity of dubbed Turkish
melodramas in the Middle East. The popularity of earlier examples like Gümüş (Noor, 2005-2007)
paved the way for the new wave of finished exports. Between 2004 and 2012, the worth of such
finished exports climbed from $10,000 to $200 million (Hurriyet Daily News, 2014). Later, the
success of Turkish finished melodramas managed to expand beyond the surrounding region as
depicted by the famous example Muhteşem Yüzyıl (Magnificent Century, 2011-2014), which aired
in over 40 countries.
The Justice and Development Party (AKP) government’s desire to exert more influence in
the region intensified before the 2010s, coinciding with the increase in the number of exported TV
shows. With these new developments, the term Neo-Ottomanism became a recurring reference in
academic and journalistic articles exploring the new regional popularity of Turkish content.
Marwan Kraidy and Omar Al-Ghazzi build upon the notion of Neo-Ottomanism to describe this
popularity as “Neo-Ottoman Cool.”
10
Al-Ghazzi and Kraidy define Neo-Ottomanism elsewhere as
“a Turkey-centric policy of projecting Turkish self-confidence politically and economically.”
11

!
! 56!
This imperial association further contributes to the ambiguity of the Turkish case considering the
early Turkish Republican era’s disdain for the Ottoman past, shared by other countries in the
region. Calling attention to the shared desire to establish a new identity different from the Ottoman
identity, Kraidy and Al-Ghazzi explain in their discussion of “Neo-Ottoman Cool” that
“Ottomanism served as the antiquated Other both for Kemalist Turkey and Arab countries born
from the collapse of the Ottoman Empire.” However, AKP rule conjured up imperial memories
and challenged the other-ization of Ottoman identity in the domestic public sphere while
promoting Ottoman heritage as a way to connect with Middle Eastern countries. Oscillating
between depictions of modernity and traditional values,
12
Turkish dramas seem to mirror Turkey’s
ambiguous identity caught in the middle of the Oriental divide between the East and the West.
According to press coverage,
13
Turkish shows travelling across the borders manage to
remain culturally relevant for Arab audiences while incorporating elements of aspirational
modernism, which provides a proximate version of modernity that does not ostracize religion and
tradition. For example, these Turkish shows present a more egalitarian relationship between men
and women without showing as much sex as American shows do. According to mainstream news
coverage, such depictions inspire women to demand more from their husbands.
†
This aspirational
gender equality is attributed to Turkey’s secular democratic model, which differs from the Islamic
nature of other Middle Eastern regimes. Alongside the Western praise for the Turkish model, the
Turkish Republic’s desire to become more influential in the Middle East endorses Neo-Ottoman
Cool as “modern enough” for the region. In other words, according to these explanations, a less
threatening version of modernity presents an alternative to Western content in the Middle East.

†
For an example of such coverage, see “Turkish Soap Star Sparks Divorces in Arab World,” Al Arabiya,
https://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2008/06/29/52291.html
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These claims of cultural relevance invoke theories of cultural proximity
‡
, which link the success
of exports with the cultural similarities between the country of origin and the receiving country.
The degree to which Turkish television shows have altered women’s expectations from
their partners in the Middle East has also become a recurring topic in newspaper articles about
Turkey’s rise as a new center of production. In this context, how women live and how they are
represented on television becomes an important part of the conversation. Discourses of modernism
and traditionalism
§
are mapped on women’s bodies, which become ideological symbols for
different identities both in domestic and regional contexts. Nilüfer Göle explains the unique nature
of this relationship between women’s bodies and Turkish modernism by comparing it to the
Western European cases:
Whereas in Western European history the public sphere emerged as a liberal- bourgeois
sphere, with women (and the working class) initially excluded and thus also excluded from
the definition of the universal citizen,

in the Turkish mode of modernization women’s
visibility and citizenship rights endorsed the existence of the public sphere.
14

Göle elaborates more on how women’s visibility in the public sphere is one of the cornerstones of
the Turkish Republican revolution.
It is the construction of women as public citizens and women’s rights (even more cherished
than the construction of citizenship and civil rights) that are the backbone of Turkish
modernism. The removal of the veil, the establishment of compulsory co-education for
girls and boys, the guarantee of civil rights for women including eligibility to vote and to
hold office, and the abolition of Islamic family law guarantee the public visibility and
citizenship of women. In other words, women’s bodily, social, and political visibility
defines the modernist public sphere in the Kemalist project.
Hence, Turkish Kemalist modernism cannot be grasped without understanding the
centrality of women, as both agents and symbols of secular modernism. Each revolution
redefines the attributes of an “ideal man,” yet Kemalist revolution represents and idealizes
new women figures in their social roles, public visibility, and Western appearances and

‡
For more discussion of these connections, see Yesil, “Transnationalization of Turkish Dramas,” 43-60;
Straubhaar, “Beyond Media Imperialism” 39-59.
§
For more on this, see Abu-Lughod, Remaking Women; Göle, “The Gendered Nature of the Public
Sphere” 61-81; White, “State Feminism” 145-159.
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ways of life.
15

This “Western” element of the Turkish Republican identity project identified by Göle is the key to
understanding why Turkish television content is deemed “more modern” or “immoral” in the
Middle Eastern context. The element of Western-ness distinguishes Turkish shows from their
Middle Eastern counterparts. The Neo-Ottomanist approach attributes an aspirational connection
potential to these shows because of their modern and Western ways. However, cultural proximity
is still important for this connection. As such, what makes Turkish shows popular is not simply
their “Western-ness.” The success rather depends on the right amount of “modernism” and
“Western-ness.”
Despite Neo-Ottomanism arguments describing Turkish shows as potentially aspirational
progressive texts and mainstream media coverage supporting such an aspirational connection,
**

these shows preserve a conservative understanding of family. For example, celebrated as a female-
oriented drama,
16
Gümüş became a target for
conservative critics including clerics and
religious authorities in the Middle East, who
publicly condemned the show for being immoral.
At the same time, media coverage described the
show as progressive for depicting a strong
female lead.
17
A closer look at the text shows
that this strong female lead is still embedded in
a traditional system of values. While

**
The online article “Noor, The Soap That Breaks-Up Couples” provides a terrific foray into this
aspirational connection by revealing women’s changing expectations from marriage thanks to the show.
(The Observers, 08/11/2008, http://observers.france24.com/en/20080811-noor-turkish-soap-mohannad-
middle-east)

Figure 2.1 Men chasıng Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ, the star of Gümüş
(Noor). The writing can be translated as ‘The show that causes
family problems: Noor.’ Retrieved from www.alriyadh.com via
http://observers.france24.com/en/20080811-noor-turkish-soap-
mohannad-middle-east
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questioning the extent of female emancipation attributed to the series, Selcan Kaynak elaborates
on how Gümüş reinforces traditional family relations:
With respect to gender codes, for example, Noor and the stories of subsequent soaps
involve traditional roles emphasizing obedience to elders and family. Noor’s first episode
starts with her being married off to Muhannad through a family arrangement; through the
rest of the story, she struggles to be accepted by his upper-class family. The older and
religious characters provide the moral anchor; those that deviate from traditional codes find
their punishment in the form of death, loss, or social exclusion.
18

As Kaynak explains, the family patriarch Fikri Bey (Ekrem Bora) almost always has the last say
in family affairs. Female characters are defined by their statuses as wives and mothers even when
they work outside the home. Maybe more importantly, the story, which begins with the arranged
marriage between Mehmet (Muhannad) and Gümüş (Noor), flash-forwards to show all the couples
married with children in the future. In other words, a traditional family remains a celebrated
societal unit even if some traditional elements are challenged.
The preservation of these traditional elements rarely finds its way into the mainstream media
coverage of the popularity of Turkish dramas in the Middle East. While Neo-Ottomanism
arguments describe Turkish modernity as an aspirational model for Middle Eastern viewers, they
do not acknowledge the role of traditional familial relationships in this configuration. In other
words, while a more egalitarian relationship becomes desirable, the point of connection is still the
traditional family structure.
Son’s departure from mainstream Turkish melodramas helps reveal that omission. A
delicate balance between representation of the modern and the traditional is essential for the
aspirational connection attributed to this success. Son’s unique depiction of Aylin and its depiction
of Iran as a cautionary tale distance Turkey from the East by underlining their differences. Aylin’s
deviation from a female identity anchored in traditional roles of motherhood especially raises
questions about the extent of the acceptable difference for such connection. The cultural proximity
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between Turkey and the Middle East—which presents Turkey’s democratic model as close enough
to achieve—gets lost because of these differences when the emphasis on traditional roles gets
toned down. In other words, by challenging the familial roles ascribed to women so prevalent in
regionally popular dramas, Son distances Turkey from the East to an extent that the aspirational
connection is not possible. The same difference also explains the reason for the show’s mobility
towards the West.

Reconfiguring Turkish Identity with Anglo-American Quality

Gender configuration in Son, which is embedded in Anglo-American quality programming
elements, emerges as a key to understanding the show’s domestic performance and global journey.
Son begins with a plane crash, which sets a series of unexpected events in motion. Aylin, who
believes her husband Selim (Yiğit Özşener) died in the crash, finds out that he never got on the
plane. The unfolding story, through flashbacks, reveals that Selim had an affair in Iran years past,
and he was at the airport to pick up the woman he had an affair with—Leyla—and their son. Selim
mysteriously goes missing after that point, leaving Aylin as well as his adopted brothers Halil
(Engin Altan Düzyatan) and Ali (Erkan Can) looking for him. Despite melodramatic elements of
this family drama, the past lives of the characters involved soon give the story a new turn. The
result is a political thriller interwoven with volatile familial relations.
In addition to complex narratives, complicated characters, and heavy use of flashbacks and
dream sequences, this limited series incorporates themes like global espionage and terror—favorite
themes for quality TV. These elements, which underline the show’s similarity to Anglo-American
quality programming, not only help the show travel well as a finished program, but also ease the
process of adaptation as a format. What makes Son a successful finished program export makes it
an easier format adaptation at the same time. In the case of the Dutch adaptation, Vlucht HS13,
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these globally recognizable elements quickly make their way onto the screen. This version is quite
condensed compared to Son’s twenty-five 90 minutes-long episodes. Vlucht HS13 has ten
episodes—all running 43 minutes except for the 83 minutes-long premiere episode. Some
characters and their storylines are omitted for the sake of time, but flashbacks and stylistic choices
such as surveillance technology coverage used in the Turkish version are preserved. The Dutch
version even builds upon quality programming elements and introduces a globally recognizable
trope when Simon (Daniël Boissevain)—the Dutch counterpart of missing Selim—becomes the
suspect of a terror attack.
Post 9/11, with terrorism recognized as a global concern, it is not surprising to see global
references to terror attacks in television content. Globally popular shows like 24 (2001-2010) and
Homeland (2011-Present) are very well-known examples of this trend. Television content and
media discourses around global terror have traveled extensively, and digital technologies have
played an important role in increasing circulation of such content. Both piracy and authorized
online streaming services expose viewers to foreign content which otherwise would not make it to
the television screen. This especially favors quality content not geared towards mainstream
consumption. Digital technologies give niche content the chance to find viewers around the globe,
and the halo effect of increased online circulation paves the way for TV exports and format
adaptations.
Quality programming has become increasingly important for the American market as
digitalization has enabled satellite channels and time-shifting technologies. With the rise of cable,
niche programming, which is associated with quality content, gained strength. Netflix and other
streaming platforms seem to be following premium cable’s lead and reproducing similar standards.
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Although the rise of quality programming has been a popular topic within the domestic U.S. market,
there is not much interest in the global repercussions of this change. Having passed beyond the
regular borders of Turkish influence, Son becomes evidence of the globalization of Anglo-
American quality. While it failed to survive in the U.S. market, the show still managed to travel
there as a pilot adaptation thanks to its globally accessible generic, narrative, and aesthetic
characteristics. Furthermore, this failed American pilot paved the way for two Western European
adaptations—an unprecedented situation for Turkish dramas.
Son’s mobility—both in terms of its capability to travel towards the West as a finished
program and its transnational adaptability as a format—is not solely dependent on the generic,
thematic, and aesthetic qualities associated with easy-traveling Anglo-American quality
programming, however. The show builds upon a unique identity representation which makes it
more accessible to Western audiences both as a finished program and a format adaptation.
Figure 2.2: Simon and his twin brother seen in
home video artifacts in opening sequence.
(Screenshot from Vlucht HS13.)
Figure 2.3 Newspaper article about Simon becoming a
suspect of a terror attack (Screenshot from Vlucht HS13.)
Figure 2.5 Aylin (Nehir Erdoğan) (Screenshot from Son.)
Figure 2.4 Leyla (Mehrnoush Esmaeilpour) (Screenshot
from Son.)
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Interestingly, though, this identity representation, which aids European adaptations, makes the
show less appealing in Turkish context.
By presenting Aylin, a modern Turkish woman in contrast to Leyla, who is constrained by
the traditional Iranian society she is living in, Son does three things at once. First, by situating
Aylin and Turkey at the Western end of the modern/Western/secular vs.
traditional/Eastern/conservative dichotomy, it provides Western European viewers a strong point
of identification with the female lead Aylin. Second, it complicates Aylin’s modern but family-
oriented femininity through her struggle with her roles as a wife and a mother. Finally, Aylin’s
complicated version of femininity, by challenging the modern vs. traditional dichotomy, acts as an
exception to the norm in the domestic market. With such a self-reflexive perspective on identity,
Son captures the complexity of its context of production, which is dominated by a major political
transformation.

Nation-state, Modernism, and Identity Crisis: What’s Wrong with Aylin?

At first glance, Aylin appears to be a happy wife and mother. She lives with her husband Selim
and son Ömer (Emir Geylan) in a rich neighborhood. She owns an architecture firm with Halil—
Selim’s adopted brother and best friend. On the surface, she is a “lean-in” woman who works but
maintains a happy family life. While critics like Angela McRobbie warn against the neo-liberal
implications of this lean-in woman identity, lean-in womanhood has become a popular
representation on television in the West. McRobbie traces an emphasis on neo-liberal feminism in
the West through her study of Revolutionary Road and Sheryl Sandberg’s book.
19
Shani Orgad’s
study of The Good Wife’s optimistic representation of Alicia as a working mother who manages
to have it all also demonstrates the rise of “lean-in woman” identity in media discourses.
20

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In her article on post-feminist TV criticism, Amanda Lotz argues that TV “televises
feminism” as the feminist struggle continues in the U.S. context: “Feminist discourses on
television tend to correspond to aspects of feminism explored by US culture as women’s roles [are]
renegotiated […].”
21
In the Turkish case, the same role renegotiation makes itself visible on
television. However, what appears on television is not just the representation of on-going feminist
struggles. The Turkish Republic’s conscious utilization of women’s images both to legitimize the
Republican Revolution and to provide evidence for the change promised by the same revolution
can be observed via representation of women on screen.
Aylin clearly conforms with the Republic’s definition of modernity as a happily married
working mother. In this context, it is necessary to remember traditional and modern identities are
both anchored in heterosexual motherhood, yet the latter encourages a work life outside the home.
However, a closer look at Aylin reveals that she deviates from the prioritization of motherhood.
Her identity is more defined by her love for her husband Selim than her motherhood. Her son and
family are important for her, but she goes to great lengths to find the truth about her husband’s
disappearance. While doing that, she endangers many lives, including hers.
One of Aylin’s lines anchors her identity in this prioritization. At the very beginning of the
story, Aylin quotes her mother (Episode 03) to describe her own relationship with Selim. She
explains that her mother told her:
There are three types of women in the world, my daughter. Those who are married to their
husbands. Those who are married to their children. Those who are married to their homes.
Be one of those who are married to their husbands, my daughter.

Aylin, then, adds how she followed that advice and put Selim at the center of her universe, so
losing him shakes her to the core. Thinking he is dead and thinking he left her are equally torturous
for her, and she is willing to risk everything to find him.
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Women’s identities commonly emerge as an important part of nation-state building
projects. Family and maternal roles are emphasized in post-colonial nation-state discourses as
examples from Turkey, India, and Egypt reveal
††
. In these cases, women, and their bodies, become
symbols of political transformation and identity reconfiguration. The state’s main priority is to
establish its difference from the previous regime and legitimize its rule. Despite emphasis on
emancipation and modernity, heterosexual marriage and motherhood remain essential for women,
so the main difference between the traditional identity model and this modern one is the latter’s
decision to open the door for work life for women. Nevertheless, even in that case, the modernist-
nationalist discourse requires the act of balancing family life and work life for women. Nukhet
Sirman coins this model as “familial citizenship” and explains:
This [familial citizenship] indicates a gendered discourse in which the ideal citizen is
inscribed as a sovereign husband and his dependent wife/mother rather than an individual,
with the result that position within a familial discourse provides the person with status
within the polity.
22

While establishing the overall framework of her piece on the familial citizenship model, Sirman
traces the birth of this model to the rise of the nation-state in the Turkish case:
Thus, rather than start from the universal discourse of the citizen, this chapter will attempt
to delineate the discourses and practices under which the Turkish nation-state was first
produced. It will argue that the production of an imaginary of the nuclear family took place
in tandem with the creation of the nation-state as modern. This preoccupation with
modernity is what I would identify as the postcolonial condition, which as Hall argues,
means that we have to read the discourses and practices of particular locality in relation to
the “Euro-imperial adventure” […]
23

As Sirman explains, the nuclear family becomes the building block for Turkish nationalism.
Women are important for such imagination as they are the ones responsible for preserving the
unity of the family, which is the basis of the unity of the nation. This concealed conservatism is in

††
For case studies on Turkey, Egypt and India, see Akinerdem, “Between Desire and Truth”; Abu-
Lughod, Dramas of Nationhood; Mankekar, Screening Culture, Viewing Politics.
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line with Kandiyoti’s argument that secular reforms of the Turkish Republic were not enough to
liberate women despite legal emancipation.
24
Following legal emancipation, family emerges as an
important structure that anchors women in conservative gender roles.
This form of familial citizenship promoted by the new Republic is transforming under the
AKP regime. Since 2011, there has been a different type of emphasis on women’s roles as mothers.
Aylin’s character does not conform with this change; her priority is her husband, whom she loves,
and she puts him before her son and her work. She refuses to be confined to a domestic sphere
when she decides to travel to Iran on her own. The family remains the building block for the nation,
yet the women who are supposed to protect that unity are pushed towards a more conservative
domestic realm. President Erdogan, who has been spearheading this change, has been vocal in
encouraging women to have more children. Although he started with calls for couples to have at
least three children, he soon raised the number to five,
25
saying that technology makes it easier to
take care of kids and do housework. Meanwhile, according to Ministry of Family and Social
Policies data,
26
cases of complaints of violence against women heavily increased between 2003-
2016. These developments have contributed to concerns about what this on-going change means
for women’s rights in Turkey.
AKP’s third term is a crucial marker in terms of understanding the shifting discourses of
femininity. The release time of Son follows a tumultuous election year, 2011, and precedes the
Gezi Protests of 2013. The latter marks the beginning of increasing political tension in Turkey.
Around that time, scholars and journalists started to voice their concerns in the domestic context.
Increasing censorship and ownership concentration went hand in hand with Turkey’s rise as a
content creator.
27
The European Union and human rights groups expressed their concerns about
the imprisonment of journalists, and freedom of press was further shaken by firings of critics of
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the government by mainstream newspapers and TV channels during the days leading to elections
in 2011.
These developments continued at a slower pace and became less visible when the AKP
won the general elections. The claims of censorship were not limited to the press; television content
received its share of tightening control. Both the Prime Minister and members of the AKP openly
criticized shows like Behzat Ç. (2010-2013) and Muhteşem Yüzyıl (Magnificent Century). The
Supreme Council of Radio and Television (RTÜK) has enforced stricter rules such as banning the
depiction of cigarettes and alcoholic drinks on screen. Profane language and sexual references led
to large fines.
Amidst this transformation, which paved the way for the AKP’s consolidation of power,
Son aired on pro-government ATV. Unlike overtly political Behzat Ç. and the AKP government’s
least favorite historical drama Muhteşem Yüzyıl (Magnificent Century), it did not attract any
political attention at all. Considering the political undertones of the story, this lack of attention can
be understood thanks to Son’s characteristics. The subtleness of its political critique and the
externalization of the modern vs. traditional dichotomy by imagining Iran as traditional instead of
a domestic imagination separates Son from the other shows. Aylin and Leyla become surrogates
for this juxtaposition of the modern and the traditional.
The major tension within Turkey’s discourses of identity is crystallized as the conflict
between traditionalism and modernism. The Turkish Republic, which needed to distinguish itself
from its predecessor—the Ottoman Empire—built its identity as the modern nation-state
alternative to the traditional empire. In this context, secular emancipation—independent of the real
extent of liberation—becomes a marker of modernism. In other words, introduction of
emancipatory laws is accepted as proof of progress—something the Ottoman rule failed to achieve
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according to the Republican myth. Nevertheless, the extent of liberation secured by these laws is
rarely discussed in relation to women’s rights. Melodrama as a genre fully embraces these tensions
in the history of Turkey. There is a pedagogic and celebratory emphasis on women’s emancipation
by the Republican revolution while traditionalism is criticized. Öncü explains how this tension
becomes visible on television:
Since [the early decades of the Republic] the “backwardness of the East,” continuously
produced and reproduced in juxtaposition to the “developed” West, has become a way of
understanding and explaining decades of stark rural poverty, impoverishment and out-
migration of Kurdish populations. Stereotypes of feudalistic blight among the Kurdish
populations who inhabit the region have always been formulated as a problem of
“backwardness,” rather than exclusion. Thus the notion of “the East” has become a generic
construct, inscribed in dualistic opposition to the dominant order at multiple layers—
geographically remote, backward, unchanging, pre-capitalist, tribal, simultaneously
untamed and rebellious.
28

Unsurprisingly, throughout Republican history, there have been many examples of this pedagogic
juxtaposition, which aims to establish the backwardness of the East as the reason for the Kurdish
conflict. Shows like Sıla (Sila, 2006-2008) and Küçük Gelin (Little Bride, 2013-2015) build upon
this binary between the East and the West to criticize arranged marriages and child brides in the
East. These shows underline the importance of equal education opportunities for girls while also
criticizing illegally practiced polygamy.
Figure 2.7 Küçük Gelin Promotional Picture Figure 2.6 Sıla
Promotional Picture
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This representation of backwardness associated with the East of Turkey also appears in
stories juxtaposing two women. Short-lived shows like Analar ve Anneler (Mamas and Moms,
2015) and Anneler ve Kızları (Mothers and Daughters, 2011) use a dual representation like Son,
but they locate the traditional characters in Eastern Turkey instead of Iran. They juxtapose the
urban and educated woman with the uneducated Eastern woman. This representation is gendered
considering the emphasis on women’s role as mothers, but it is also ethnicized to the extent that
the urban educated woman is almost always blonde.
While these shows present a traditional and religiously conservative picture of the East,
religiosity is usually attached to location in Turkish television and it appears more as the appendage
of a provincial identity. Migrants moving to big cities in the West are represented in a similar light.
Due to Republican attempts to control religious opposition, secular policies not only prevented the
visibility of covered women on television but also avoided presenting a religious identity
independent of geographical origin. Therefore, religiosity becomes a major indicator of
traditionalism in this context.
Nevertheless, such depictions are losing their relevance as the context of production
changes rapidly. Depiction of religiosity has been an important part of this change. Kumru Berfin
Emre Cetin points to Huzur Sokağı (2012-2014) as the first mainstream TV show showing a
Figure 2.8 Analar ve Anneler (Mamas and Moms) (left) Anneler ve Kızları (Mothers and Daughters) (right). Both shows and
their promotional pictures juxtapose urban/modern with rural/traditional.
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covered character in 2012. After years of appearance on conservative channels or what Emre Cetin
calls “ghettoized pious channels,” this move to mainstream television is more telling about the
transformation of Turkish politics than the transformation of Turkish society.
29
Older depictions
of traditionalism are now challenged by representations which say that religion is not an
impediment to modernity. Huzur Sokağı aired on ATV, which belonged to Turkuvaz Medya Group,
run by Erdogan’s son-in-law Berat Albayrak. In other words, religious visibility on mainstream
television coincided with the conservative AKP government’s strengthening ties with business.
With the consolidation of AKP’s power, mainstream discourses of identity started to
change. At this moment of political transformation, traditionalism, conservatism, and religiosity
are no longer de facto indicators of backwardness. A new modern nation-state identity
incorporating these elements is emerging. This change has paved the way for on-screen visibility
for religious women, who have long been ostracized from mainstream channels. It has also made
binary representations confining religiosity to the traditional and non-modern realm less viable.
As explored in Göle’s discussion on the importance of “women’s bodily, social, and political
visibility” for Turkish Kemalist modernism,
30
how women look on television becomes important
evidence of the on-going change while the Kemalist Project is being challenged by the AKP regime.
At first look, Aylin strongly resembles the secular modern identity model for women. A
reference to Aylin’s parents establishes that her upbringing is clearly a secular Republican one.
While talking to her therapist Cem, she tells him how feeling fear is unbearable for her. She says,
“I’m the daughter of a soldier. I was raised not to fear anything” (Episode 07). Her conversation
with Cem does not only reveal Aylin’s complicated feelings or foreshadow what will happen next.
This minor detail also helps us situate her within Turkish society. The army in Turkey has long
been associated with the protection of secular republican ideals. Multiple coup d’etats and
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attempted coup d’etats have raised questions about the ways in which these ideals were protected
by the military. The recent events of July 2016 revealed that the army, itself, was not completely
monolithic in its composition when non-secular groups in the army gained visibility during
political turmoil. Nevertheless, the secular image associated with the army has long survived. The
timing of Son, which was filmed between 2011-2012, coincides with the height of the Ergenekon
trials, which investigated the allegations of a secular nationalist coup d’etat led by army officers.
Aylin aligns well with this secular image attributed to army members and their families.
She does not wear a headscarf. She has a successful work life outside her home as an architect, co-
Figure 2.9 Aylin wakes up next to Halil and realizes she still has her wedding ring on. (Screenshot series from Son.)
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owning her firm with Halil. Aylin is happily married to her husband Selim, a doctor, and they raise
their son Ömer together. On the surface, she fits into the modern representation of women. But as
the story unfolds, she deviates from the family-centric modern nation-state model ascribed for her.
She risks her life to find Selim although she knows that this might rob Ömer of both his parents.
She further challenges familial elements of this secular image by going on a blind date with one
of her friend’s acquaintances, Barış (Kaan Urgancıoğlu), six months after her husband goes
missing. She later goes on to begin a relationship with Halil despite her son Ömer’s protests. In
other words, she challenges Sirman’s “familial citizenship” model by putting her desires before
her son.
31
Therefore, Aylin moves beyond the borders of “emancipation without liberation” in
Kandiyoti’s terms,
32
and she certainly does not fit in the mainstream televisual norms of
womanhood. This deviation makes her less “identifiable with” in the Turkish context.

Figure 2.10 Aylin on a date with Barış. (Screenshot series from Son.)
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Looking at other characters, except for the older couple Ali and Feride (Ülkü Duru), all
characters live their lives without being concerned about what others think. Drinking and partying
are not unique to Son, but what makes Son unique is that it does not pass any judgment on these
specific lifestyle choices, and there is no evidence of these choices being criticized or threatened
in the show. Other mainstream genres such as the romantic comedy Kiralık Aşk (2015-2017) have
such scenes, but these characters refer to the need to hide their actions from their families and
communities.

In short, Son presents a very specific segment of Turkish life in its storylines, though not
an unrealistic or a pretentious one. Although that life experience exists for a small urban population
in Istanbul, since context is a defining factor for viewers’ connection to the text, this privileged
life experience is harder to identify with. In relation to the text and the context relationship for
television shows, while discussing the representations of modernity and tradition on television,
Zeyneb Feyza Akinerdem argues that “for the television fictions, the viewer’s position vis á vis
the text is constructed within wider social context, in which the text itself is also encoded.
33
”
Aylin’s “Western-ness” becomes clearer within the context of identity representations—the
Figure 2.11 Aylin and Roza in the restroom during Aylin’s date. (Screenshot from Son.)
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Republican modern, traditional conservative and neo-conservative—as she deviates from the
emphasis on motherhood prevalent in all three configurations. Therefore, Aylin’s identity sets her
apart from other women on television, making Son a unique example among other Turkish
melodramas.
In this context, Son deviates from mainstream Turkish melodrama representations for two
reasons. First, it does not conform to the secular, modern, and Republican depiction, which still
prioritizes maternal duties. Aylin appears as someone who puts herself and her husband before her
child. Secondly, the “backwardness” in this show is located outside of Turkey, with backwardness
embodied in the depiction of Leyla, from Iran. As an Iranian “Oriental Other,” she externalizes
traditionalism; thus, Turkey’s modernity is taken for granted. Nevertheless, Leyla is painted as a
more complex character than reductionist Orientalist depictions in mainstream melodramas. She
is a lovelorn single mother trying to keep her children with her in the present, but in the flashbacks,
she is also a nurse and a political activist. In other words, Leyla herself is not “backward,” yet the
regime in her country is.

Leyla “The Caged Bird” or Aylin’s Complex Oriental Other

The decision to locate Leyla in Iran and outside of Turkey as the Oriental Other while painting her
as a complex character instead of a stereotype separates Son from mainstream melodramas and
distinguishes it from regionally popular shows associated with “Neo-Ottomanism.” This
difference also reduces Son’s potential for an aspirational connection in the Middle East, which is
prevalent in regionally popular melodramas. As I discussed in relation to Neo-Ottomanism above,
Turkish shows are associated with more egalitarian gender configurations, which challenge
mainstream identity representations in the Middle East. However, Son utilizes Leyla for
establishing Aylin’s privilege differently than domestically and regionally popular Turkish dramas
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do. Instead of depicting Leyla simply as “traditional,” the show places her in a traditional society,
which limits her freedom in multiple ways. Leyla pushes the boundaries in which an Islamist
regime confines her, and she ends up suffering because of these boundaries.
The flashbacks reveal that Leyla faces more
problems with the system after finding out about her
pregnancy. She first tries to get an illegal abortion, but
she cannot bring herself to go through with it. Then she
marries Majid (Philip Arditti), another political activist,
so that she can give birth without getting punished for
being a single mother. Her fake marriage with Majid collapses when Majid can no longer hide his
interest in her, and she decides to flee Iran with her twin sons. Leyla ends up leaving one of her
sons behind in Iran. Later, despite the danger, she goes back to retrieve him. Unlike Aylin, whose
devotion to her husband comes before her son, Leyla is completely devoted to her sons. She is a
mother, not a lover. Leyla is still in love with Selim, who abandoned her years ago, but she has no
hopes of being with him, and she fully embodies the motherhood role both the traditional and the
modern femininities attribute to her. Her priorities also overlap with Sirman’s familial citizenship
model,
34
which confines women into their roles as wives and mothers.
In short, Leyla is a modern woman trapped in a traditional system. Her confinement is
mirrored on screen as she is almost always trapped physically and visually. She spends time in jail
in Iran. She is taken into custody in Turkey. Half the time she is on screen, she is forced to hide
both by Selim and Halil. Besides narrative confinement, visually she is shown in tight frames. We
see her through doors cracked open, and both men and the state monitor and try to control her. In
Figure 2.12 Leyla trying to get an illegal abortion
(Screenshot from Son.)
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an interesting manner, the male gaze alternates with government surveillance and Leyla is exposed
to similar confinement in both the public and private spheres.
Seeing what Leyla lacks helps viewers understand what Aylin has: A protected
independence. At first, this seems to be in line with Neo-Ottoman explanations of Turkish dramas’
popularity in the Middle East. Aylin’s rights and freedoms might function as a model to emulate
for viewers in neighboring countries. However, after a close examination, the difference between
Turkey and Iran does not resemble the proximity defended in Neo-Ottomanism explanations.
Selcan Kaynak’s analysis of Gümüş’s (Noor) success in the Middle East summarizes that
proximity as follows:
Noor offers the desired proximity to wealth and success achieved in a patriarchal and
conservative culture; in this way, the desired modernity, that is compatible with Islam,
promises individual success and wealth without having to compromise moral
righteousness.
35

Son deviates from this model by indirectly arguing for Islam’s incompatibility with modernity.
The Islamic regime in Iran is depicted as a dangerous model—especially for women. Therefore,
the aspirational proximity is annihilated and the East becomes a cautionary tale, somewhere to be
escaped from for both Aylin and Leyla.
Aylin’s experiences especially depict Iran in a way similar to traditional Orientalist
representations—a dangerous, barren place with no law and order, yet run by a repressive regime.
Figure 2.13 Leyla in jail in Iran after getting caught.
(Screenshot from Son.)
Figure 2.14 Selim following Leyla to her house in Iran.
(Screenshot from Son.)
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She herself is no longer a safe median between the West and the East for Middle Eastern viewers.
Aylin becomes the “Western Other” in two steps. First, she deviates from the familial role assigned
to her, which endangers her symbolic proximity to viewers in the region. Without the overlap of a
prioritization of motherhood which both the “modern” and “traditional” models share, Aylin loses
her proximity to the East. Then, when she physically enters the East, she fully annihilates the
potential connection by barely surviving the experience. Her departure from Iran becomes her
salvation and she validates her position as a “Western stranger.” Therefore, she proves Kudret’s
mysterious friend Simon (Martin Turner) right, who previously addressed her (1.01) as someone
not familiar with the region: “The East, young woman, is always further east than you think. The
further we get from the West, the more unreachable it becomes. Don’t you wanna see the sunset?
It’s the only beauty here that’s bulletproof.” This moment of reflexivity clarifies overall dynamics
of identity construction in Son: Aylin belongs to the West. Therefore, Son differs greatly from
domestically and regionally popular Turkish melodramas, and remains an anomaly for the Turkish
market.
With Aylin becoming the “Western” woman, Leyla becomes the “Oriental Other.” Despite
Aylin’s, Simon’s and Kudret’s attempts to help, she cannot survive. While one of Leyla’s sons
eventually dies in Iran, she, herself, ends up being murdered in Istanbul by Halil. Leyla’s origin
becomes the defining force in the course of her life, for being an Iranian woman limits her choices
and her mobility. Although she fights hard to challenge the limits, she ends up failing to leave
Turkey for Norway with her twin sons. In a way, her “Eastern-ness” prevents her from entering
Europe, whereas, despite all the difficulty, Aylin manages to cross the Iranian border back to her
home. The difference between these two women’s lives stands in for the difference between their
geographies.
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The Fish out of Water into the Land of Danger: Aylin in Iran

Aylin’s first moments in Iran depict her looking
for the hotel Leyla recommended for her. She
walks in narrow streets of the city where Selim
and Leyla first met. Farsi written in Arabic script
appears on the walls as a geographical reminder
of the location. After she checks into the hotel and
enters the room, Aylin takes off the headscarf she has to wear in Iran. The headscarf here becomes
the marker of transitioning between the two societies; we see that Leyla doesn’t wear her headscarf
after she makes it to Istanbul.

Figure 2.15 Aylin in her hotel room. (Screenshot from Son.)
Figure 2.16 Aylin in the streets of Iran. (Screenshot series from Son.)
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Aylin wears the headscarf again once she leaves her room in Iran, but her mannerisms reveal how
unaccustomed she is to wearing it. She walks through the city in desperation. Not being able to
find any clues clearly upsets her. As she talks to an Iranian woman in veil, Aylin’s headscarf finally
slides down revealing her hair. The way Aylin acts makes her foreigner status obvious.
Getting no help from the Iranian women she talks to, Aylin ends up wandering on her own.
A man approaches her and promises to lead her to Selim when she is alone. Eventually, it turns
out that the man is an imposter. He tries to rape Aylin, who is later saved by Kudret (Uğur Polat)—
Selim’s childhood friend. Aylin faces the same threat of rape when Kudret’s friend Simon is trying
to smuggle her across the border. Iran and the East appear as dangerous places for women. She
finally understands that her persistence in looking for Selim might cost her her life. As a mother,
she decides that she needs to go back to her son, Ömer. In the end, despite moments of deviation,
she embraces her role as a mother thanks to her experiences in Iran.
Aylin’s unfamiliarity with Iran and the religious rule there provide an excellent template
for the Dutch format adaptation VluchtHS13, in which her Western-ness contributes to the show’s
adaptability. This version spends less time in Iran. The missing husband’s backstory with Leyla is
not shown. Although we don’t see much of Iran and most of the political elements, Majid (Alan
Yedegarian), Leyla’s Iranian husband, becomes the main culprit of all crimes in the Dutch version
although the same character is not physically violent in the Turkish original. While the murderer
in the Turkish original is Aylin’s business partner and her husband’s adopted brother Halil, Vlucht
HS13 goes one step further in imagining the East as a dangerous place by making Majid a merciless
murderer responsible for all crimes.
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In one particular scene, Leyla (Sachli Golamalizad) teaches Liv (the Dutch counterpart of
Aylin) how to cover her head. Once again, women’s bodies become symbolic border checkpoints
as Liv, like Aylin, dons a headscarf. Leyla prepares her for this rite of passage: When Liv asks if
it is okay for some of her hair to be seen, Leyla assures her that it will not be a problem (1.10).
There is a didactic reflexivity in this moment. Like Liv, viewers find out about the acceptable
standards of covering in Iran.
Iran is not a coincidental choice for the representation of the East. Although the Oriental
Other can be mapped on another country in the Middle East, Iran has always been the subject of
such comparisons in the Turkish case. Discursively, it functions as an example of how the modern
vs. traditional can evolve in a predominantly Muslim country. “Will Turkey become Iran?” is a
recurring question in debates about the threats against secularism.
Comparisons between these two countries have long been common not just in academic
surveys but also in daily political discussions. Since both descended from regionally powerful
empires which went through periods of secular reforms, this is a valid comparison. In the Iranian
case, the Khomeini-lead Islamic Revolution in 1979 reversed that process. Looking at the
comparison between Turkish Aylin and Iranian Leyla at this very specific moment in time provides
a chance to zoom in on the link between the representation of women and modernity discourses.
Figure 2.17 Leyla teaching Liv how to cover her head. (Screenshot series from Vlucht HS13.)
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The revolution that led to religious rule in Iran has often been a cautionary tale told by critics of
the conservative Justice and Development Party in Turkey. Therefore, Leyla’s role in the story
emphasizes Aylin and Turkey’s differences from Iran and the East in general. In other words,
Turkey, which has long been described as a bridge between the East and the West, claims its
“Western-ness” and “European-ness” by showing it is different than Iran.
In addition to holding a specific place as a reference within the Turkish context, Iran is a
globally recognizable reference due to mainstream media coverage about the religious revolution
and the Iranian hostage crisis. Betty Mahmoody’s book Not Without My Daughter and the film
based on the book have further crystallized Iran’s identity in the Anglo-American world as an
Islamic state. This identity is also embedded in earlier Orientalist discourses,
36
which depict the
East as an uncivilized place, becoming a token for legitimizing “Western” ways.
Therefore, Son’s positioning of its lead Aylin as a fish out of water in Iran and Leyla as a
woman exposed to the regime’s oppression help non-Turkish viewers identify with Aylin. With
that, Turkey’s “Other” easily evolves into the East—the never changing opposite of the West. Due
to this, the show becomes more relatable as a finished program, and the format adaptation can
simply substitute Aylin with a European woman (Liv as we saw in the case of the Dutch
adaptation). With such adaptability, Son challenges Turkish dramas’ existing borders of influence.
At the same time, it raises questions of what Turkey’s changing identity means for the future of its
drama exports.

Conclusion

As the Turkish political model loses its international appeal due to intensifying domestic
turmoil, domestic television production and television exports have managed to preserve their
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strength. Exporting content beyond the former borders of the Ottoman Empire is the goal for
Turkish producers. As of the spring of 2018, Son is the most successful show in terms of achieving
this goal. It is worth noting that it achieved this while both deviating from a conservative
understanding of the familial unit and still utilizing the dichotomy between the East and the West.
This conservative understanding of family-based identity representation, which remains intact, has
been a successful template for Turkish drama exports in the Middle East.
Aylin’s prioritization of her own desires over her son Ömer for a significant part of the
story allows Son to depict a different model of femininity, even though it unites Aylin’s family at
the end. Both her desire to find her husband Selim and her decision to pursue a relationship with
Halil endanger Aylin’s life. In that context, Aylin deviates from mainstream representations of
motherhood by following her desire to find the truth about Selim instead of creating a safe home
for Ömer. The show’s melodramatic characteristics—such as an emphasis on familial relationships,
personal secrets, and quickly shifting alliances—make it in some ways similar to other Turkish
melodramas. Nevertheless, the quality programming elements that I discussed at the beginning
grant Son a level of reflexivity and a complexity that becomes crucial in the show’s configuration
of feminine identities, making it depart from the norms of other such shows. Aylin, who appears
to be raised at “the modern” end of the modern vs. traditional identity spectrum, can easily be
substituted with another “Non-Eastern” woman. This dichotomy helps the process of adaptation
and consumption in Europe, but the ways in which Aylin challenges conservative remnants of this
modern Turkish identity make her less identifiable within the domestic context. With its moderate
performance in Turkey and the Middle East yet on-going success in Europe, Son shows how the
representation of women is not just crucial for identity construction of nation-states. Indeed, it
becomes obvious that how women act or look not only defines where they go in real life, but also
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determines where they can travel on-screen. In that sense, Son emerges as a unique example for
showing how questions of globalization, mobility and identity are mapped onto the bodies of
women both on screen and in real life.
Table of Figures—Chapter 1
Figure 2.1 Men chasıng Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ, the star of Gümüş (Noor). The writing
can be translated as ‘The show that causes family problems: Noor.’
Retrieved from www.alriyadh.com via
http://observers.france24.com/en/20080811-noor-turkish-soap-mohannad-middle-east ............ 58!
Figure 2.3 Newspaper article about Simon becoming a suspect of a terror attack
(Screenshot from Vlucht HS13.) ................................................................................................... 62!
Figure 2.2: Simon and his twin brother seen in home video artifacts in opening sequence.
(Screenshot from Vlucht HS13.) ................................................................................................... 62!
Figure 2.5 Leyla (Mehrnoush Esmaeilpour) (Screenshot from Son.) ........................................... 62!
Figure 2.4 Aylin (Nehir Erdoğan) (Screenshot from Son.) ........................................................... 62!
Figure 2.7 Sıla Promotional Picture .............................................................................................. 68!
Figure 2.6 Küçük Gelin Promotional Picture ................................................................................ 68!
Figure 2.8 Analar ve Anneler (Mamas and Moms) (left) Anneler ve Kızları (Mothers and
Daughters) (right). Both shows and their promotional pictures juxtapose urban/modern with
rural/traditional. ............................................................................................................................ 69!
Figure 2.9 Aylin wakes up next to Halil and realizes she still has her wedding ring on.
(Screenshot series from Son.) ....................................................................................................... 71!
Figure 2.10 Aylin on a date with Barış. (Screenshot series from Son.) ........................................ 72!
Figure 2.11 Aylin and Roza in the restroom during Aylin’s date. (Screenshot from Son.) .......... 73!
Figure 2.12 Leyla trying to get an illegal abortion (Screenshot from Son.) ................................. 75!
Figure 2.13 Leyla in jail in Iran after getting caught. (Screenshot from Son.) ............................. 76!
Figure 2.14 Selim following Leyla to her house in Iran. (Screenshot from Son.) ........................ 76!
Figure 2.15 Aylin in her hotel room. (Screenshot from Son.) ...................................................... 78!
Figure 2.16 Aylin in the streets of Iran. (Screenshot series from Son.) ........................................ 78!
Figure 2.17 Leyla teaching Liv how to cover her head. (Screenshot series from Vlucht HS13.) . 80!

1
Sardar and Wyn Davies, Distorted Imagination.

2
Ur-Rehman, “Secular Knowledge versus Islamic Knowledge,” 65-80.

3
Brunsdon, “Problems with Quality,” 67-90; McCabe, McCabe, and Akass, Quality TV.

4
Logan, “‘Quality Television,” 144-162.

5
Kürşad Oğuz, “AK Parti'ye dirençli diziler!,” Habertürk, 7 October
2012, http://www.haberturk.com/medya/haber/783053-ak-partiye-direncli-diziler

6
Creeber, “The Joy of Text?” 81.

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! 84!

7
Creeber, 82. Creeber quotes Hall, “Encoding/decoding” and Fiske, Television Culture.

8
Esposito, “What Does Race Have to Do with Ugly Betty?” 521-535. Esposito quotes Kellner, Media
Culture as well as Hall and Mercer, “Black Film, British Cinema”, 27-31.

9
Esposito, “What Does Race Have to Do with Ugly Betty?” 524.

10
Kraidy and Al-Ghazzi, “Neo-Ottoman Cool,” 17-29

11
Al-Ghazzi and Kraidy. “Turkey, Middle East & Media,” 2344.

12
Emre Cetin, “Politicization of Turkish Television,” 2462-2483; Kaynak, “Noor and Friends,” 233-253;
Kraidy and Al-Ghazzi, “Neo-Ottoman Cool,” 17-29

13
Owen Matthews, “Turkish Soap Operas are Sweeping the Middle East,” Newsweek,
Last accessed July 29th, 2017, http://www.newsweek.com/turkish-soap-operas-are-sweeping-middle-east-
67403.

14
Nilüfer Göle, “Gendered Nature of the Public Sphere,” 63.

15
Göle, 65-66.

16
Salamandra, “The Muhannad Effect,” 45-77; Çevik, “Turkish Soap Opera Diplomacy,” 6.

17
Mona Moussley, “Turkish Soaps Create Drama in the Arab World,” Al Arabiya, 2 November 2010
(updated). https://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2008/10/13/58148.html.

18
Kaynak, “Noor and Friends,” 241.

19
Angela McRobbie, “Feminism, the Family,” 119-137.

20
Orgad, “The Cruel Optimism of the Good Wife,” 165-183.

21
Lotz, “Postfeminist Television Criticism,” 107.

22
Sirman, “Familial Citizenship in Turkey,” 148.

23
Sirman.

24
Kandiyoti, “Emancipated but Unliberated?” 317-338.

25
“Erdoğan: 3 de Yetmez 5 Tane,” Evrensel, Published in 2012, Last accessed July 29th, 2017.
https://www.evrensel.net/haber/26547/erdogan-3-de-yetmez-5-tane

26
Sebahat Karakoyun, “Kadına yönelik şiddet artıyor destekler yetersiz
kalıyor.” Birgün. 2017. Last accessed July 29th, 2017. http://m.bianet.org/bianet/kadin/126227-sayilarla-
kadina-yonelik-erkek-devlet-siddeti

27
Emre Cetin, “The Politicization of Turkish Television Dramas,” 2462-2483.

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28
Öncü, “Representing and Consuming ‘the East’,” 52.

29
Emre Cetin, “The Politicization of Turkish Television Dramas,” 2474.

30
Nilüfer Göle, “Gendered Nature.” 65-66.

31
Sirman, “Familial Citizenship in Turkey,” 147-177.

32
Kandiyoti. “Emancipated but Unliberated?” 317-338.

33
Akinerdem, “Between Desire and Truth”, 53.

34
Sirman, “Familial citizenship in Turkey,” 147-177.

35
Kaynak, “Noor and Friends,” 241.

36
Said, Orientalism.

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Chapter 2
Whose Quality is It?:
Online Streaming and the Global Spread of Anglo-American Quality

The notion of quality is neither objective nor global. Nevertheless, quality programming conjures
up similar ideas for most scholars, viewers and content creators in Anglo-American markets.
Characteristics that appear as common elements of this type of programming include controversial
storylines, auteur-like showrunners, higher production values, cinematic style, involvement of film
actors and film directors, complex narratives and in-depth character development.
1
Online
streaming platforms like Netflix seem to be following cable networks’ lead to produce quality
shows with these elements to distinguish themselves from mainstream television. With the
globalization of these services and the emergence of local examples in other markets, quality
content is becoming a global standard.
In the first half of 2017, two new Turkish streaming platforms—BluTV and puhutv—
debuted their first online originals Masum (Innocent) and Fi (Phi). The release of these two shows
coincided with the entrance of Netflix and Amazon Prime into the Turkish market. With more
online streaming platforms expanding their services globally, the birth of local examples like
BluTV and puhutv raises new questions about changing power dynamics in global media markets.
In this chapter, via my case study of the Turkish television sector, I explore how digital
technologies have helped spread the Anglo-American definition of quality programming globally.
While doing that, I show how local circumstances influence this process of globalization and how
ultimately, any localizing move works in favor of the same goal of globalization. In other words,
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the result is the “glocalization” of online streaming technologies and Anglo-American quality
standards.
As a regionally successful content exporter, the Turkish market is an interesting place to
study this convergence of the globalization of online streaming and the spread of Anglo-American
quality programming standards. While mainstream melodramas—which do not comply with
Anglo-American quality programming standards—face brutal competition in the domestic context,
successful ones easily gain popularity in the Middle East, the Balkans and Eastern Europe,
although the same shows—both as formats and finished programs—have difficulty entering the
Western European and Northern American markets.
As Turkish shows gain more visibility in the global markets, foreign shows continue to
enter the Turkish market. On mainstream television channels,
*
however, strong domestic
production—including many format adaptations—no longer leaves room for dubbed foreign
shows. Channels airing dubbed and subtitled foreign—mostly American and British—shows can
be found on premium cable services such as Digiturk and D-Smart. At the same time, pirated
online streaming has long been a way to access foreign television shows.
Turkish fans of international content are used to accessing their favorite shows without pay
on pirate online streaming websites. When authorized online streaming platforms such as BluTV
and puhutv enter into this configuration, we see an in-betweenness capturing the Polanyi-esque
“great transformation” of the global media atmosphere. Once easily accessible pirate streaming
websites in Turkey are now inundated with notices of take-downs based on copyright
infringements. Laws and regulations catch up with technology as companies like BluTV and

*
Since Turkey never had the equivalent of the American network system I prefer to use “mainstream
television” instead of “network television” to describe non-paid and non-thematic television channels as
such.
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puhutv push for more commercialization on the internet. The Turkish government and these
companies do their best to control the new terrain of access and circulation as viewers/users enjoy
accessing content on their own terms. While the rules of the market are being consolidated,
different stakeholders such as the state, corporations, producers and even viewers struggle for
power.
In order to explore the complexity of this change, I will focus on BluTV and puhutv’s
models of online streaming. First, I will discuss the similarities and differences between the two
platforms’ brand constructions through a closer look at publicly available interviews with their
CEOs and the platforms’ economic models. Both models are influenced by global examples and
informed by the Turkish context of consumption, which provides a chance to explore the delicate
relationship between globalization and localization in terms of online streaming. These two
platforms’ business models and marketing strategies also help reveal the connections between
online sharing culture and legal streaming models. Then, I will trace the interaction between online
streaming and the globalization of Anglo-American quality programming in order to explore how
BluTV’s Masum and puhutv’s Fi mimic Anglo-American quality programming standards for
branding purposes. Once these two shows are compared, their different interpretations of quality
content reflect the differences between two platforms’ economic models. BluTV’s Masum, like its
paid subscription model, follows the globalized Anglo-American quality standards more strictly.
However, like puhutv’s no-fee subscription model, Fi acknowledges the importance of local
context by embracing the use of melodramatic conventions—a visible characteristic of Turkish
content in the last two decades. Finally, I will conclude with a discussion of what localization and
hybridization in the Turkish case might entail for local, regional and global power dynamics in
today’s media world.
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Online Streaming Models in Turkey: BluTV and puhutv

In 2016, two Turkish online streaming platforms, BluTV and puhutv, started their services. Both
created excitement about the possibility of the change they might bring to the Turkish market.
After all, the growing television sector had been struggling with certain challenges. Cut-throat
domestic competition had led to extremely long episodes with mainstream TV shows airing over
thirty episodes each running for about 90-110 minutes in one season. These runtimes put an
enormous pressure on writers as well as casts and crews, and the lack of thorough unionization
made industry workers more vulnerable to these circumstances. In 2011, Oyuncular Sendikası
(Actors’ Union of Turkey) was formed to address these problematic working conditions.
Unionization efforts introduced a new campaign called “Yerli Dizi Yersiz Uzun” in 2017 when
the Senaryo Yazarları Derneği (Screenwriters’ Association) released a public declaration against
long runtimes. Their slogan alluded to the fact that Turkish shows were unnecessarily long. While
discussing their public declaration, the screenwriters referenced American and other foreign shows
for comparison. For the Turkish sector, the 40- to 60-minute-long episodes of American dramas
was a desired yet almost impossible model. Positioning American—and to some extent other

foreign—TV shows as a standard, these public discussions attributed their quality and success to
their shorter lengths and fewer episodes.
Figure 3.1 BluTV Screenshot Masum
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Therefore, when BluTV announced that their first online original Masum would have 50-
to 60-minute-long episodes,
2
the company managed to position itself as a deviation from
mainstream television standards. puhutv’s first original, Fi, followed the same shorter model. Each
show also had a smaller number of episodes: Masum had eight whereas Fi had twelve episodes.
These choices created an interesting dilemma for BluTV and puhutv. They were clearly following
the U.S. cable model inherited by online streaming platforms. Partially influenced by the shorter
British seasons, the first premium cable channels like HBO, then streaming services like Netflix
have been using the same model for a while. Although BluTV and puhutv emulated these models,
they chose to include “TV” in their names. In other words, unlike the “HBO: Not Television” or
“Netflix and Chill” mottos, these platforms did not dissociate themselves from television. They
acknowledged the TV connection but aspired to achieve an elevated form of it.
Figure 3.2 puhutv Screenshot. In addition to “Dizi” (Series) and “Film” (Film) tabs, there is
a separate tab for the platform’s first original show, Fi.
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However, this shared aspiration
manifested differently in BluTV and
puhutv. BluTV focused on providing
access to foreign TV shows, which had
been mostly accessed via pirate
streaming sites in the past. In his
interviews, the CEO Aydın Doğan
Yalçındağ clearly explained that the
platform targeted Turkish fans of
foreign shows and those who would be
willing to watch Turkish shows if they
were shorter or closer to the foreign TV
show experience. There is an implicit
value hierarchy in his reasoning, as foreign shows and their model are treated as examples of
“quality.” This emphasis on quality appears in interviews with puhutv CEO Ateş İnce too.
†
İnce
similarly expressed how puhutv would give a chance to shows which had a significant following
yet were neglected by the ratings system.
3

Despite the same emphasis on quality, unlike BluTV, the puhutv model focused on
providing online access to Turkish shows aired on TV in addition to their own originals, which
similarly challenged the TV runtimes. Most of the Turkish shows they provided access for had
previously been available on YouTube or their channel’s website. The strong tradition of piracy

†
İnce stepped down from his position in March, 2018.
Figure 3.3 puhutv Main Catalog with shows
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had forced channels and producers to give online access to their content. puhutv aimed to centralize
that online access by bringing various Turkish shows together on their site. Besides their catalogs,
these two streaming platforms thrived upon different economic models. BluTV began its service
in 2017 by charging its subscribers a monthly fee of 9.90 liras in Turkey and 3.90 Euros outside
of Turkey.
‡
While puhutv provides access via free subscription, it is not available outside Turkey.

In publicly available interviews with the CEOs of both companies, both Netflix and piracy emerge
as recurring reference points. Although it is easier to identify the connection between these two
local platforms and the American examples of online streaming platforms—BluTV’s similarity
with Netflix and puhutv’s similarity with the earlier days of Hulu, I would like to discuss the less
visible similarity between these Turkish streaming platforms and Turkish pirate online streaming
sites. The popularity of these pirate platforms and their influence on BluTV and puhutv help
explain the localization of global streaming trends as well as the increasing commercialization of
the Internet.

‡
As of June 2018, the subscription fees are 14.90 liras in Turkey and 5.90 Euros outside Turkey.
Figure 3.5 BluTV-Main Catalog with BluTV originals as the first
three shows.
Figure 3.4 BluTV-Main Catalog with international and Turkish
content.
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“Commercialization” and “Sharing” in “Streaming”

Both BluTV and puhutv provide examples of the global spread of online streaming business
models. The birth of these local examples shows that there is a multilayered process of
globalization which goes beyond the simple expansion of American companies like Netflix and
Amazon in different territories. In other words, in addition to the economic presence of these
companies in new markets like Turkey, their streaming models are being taken and used by local
companies. The latter layer of spread provides a unique chance to observe how globalization and
localization go hand in hand and pave the way for “glocalization.”
These intertwined processes of globalization and localization become very vivid in the
Turkish case. The global spread of the online streaming model is clearer when the local context of
consumption is considered. In the Turkish case, the widespread use of online sharing and piracy—
especially in the form of unauthorized online streaming platforms—poses a unique challenge for
the new models like BluTV and puhutv, which aim to commercialize previously “commonized”
television content. The local twist addressing this situation enables the global commercialization
of the Internet as these models of access aim to replace the free access enabled by piracy.
At the same time, the comparison of these two models also reveals how today’s online
streaming services build upon online sharing and piracy practices. While BluTV offers a fully
commercialized online streaming model, puhutv provides a transitionary model, which more
openly acknowledges local viewing habits. In this section, I analyze both models within the context
of Lawrence Lessig’s discussion of online sharing and commercial economies. Lessig identifies
the difference between commercial and sharing economies
§
as the latter’s refusal of monetary
compensation for an exchange:

§
While Lessig does not introduce “gift economy” as a category in his analysis, it is necessary to mention
other scholars such as Cammaerts, Kollock and Rheingold, who discuss gift economy within the context
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Following the work of many, but in particular of Harvard professor Yochai Benkler,
1
by a
“commercial economy,” I mean an economy in which money or “price” is a central term
of the ordinary, or normal, exchange. In this sense, your local record store is part of a
commercial economy. You enter and find the latest Lyle Lovett CD. You buy it in exchange
for $18. The exchange is defined in terms of the price. This does not mean price is the only
term, or even the most important term. But it does mean that there is nothing peculiar about
price being a term. There’s nothing inappropriate about insisting upon that cash, or making
access to the product available only in return for cash.
A “sharing economy” is different. Of all the possible terms of exchange within a sharing
economy, the single term that isn’t appropriate is money. You can demand that a friend
spend more time with you, and the relationship is still a friendship. If you demand that he
pay you for the time you spend with him, the relationship is no longer a friendship.
4

Lessig’s classification also includes a third type, which combines the characteristics of both
types—a “hybrid.”

According to Lessig’s classification, both BluTV and puhutv qualify as commercial
economies. While BluTV requests money in exchange for streaming services, puhutv does not
directly ask for money from users. It rather finances its service by hosting commercials like
traditional television does. This indirect payment still qualifies puhutv as a commercial economy
since it gets paid for hosting commercials. What makes both models interesting is their intersection
with online sharing practices. In this context, Lessig’s third type of economy, a hybrid economy,
helps to explain how new streaming models build upon the previous pirate versions. Lessig
describes hybrid economies as:
The hybrid is either a commercial entity that aims to leverage value from a sharing
economy, or it is a sharing economy that builds a commercial entity to better support its

of sharing and piracy. By adhering to Belk’s distinction between gift-giving and sharing based on the lack
of reciprocity in the latter case, I will not provide a detailed review of the literature on gift economies. For
more on each scholar’s work, see Cammaerts, “Hegemonic Copyright Regime”; Cammaerts, “Disruptive
Sharing”; Rheingold, Virtual Community; Kollock, “Online Cooperation,”;
and Belk, “Why Not Share?”

For a detailed discussion of the differences between commodity exchange, gift giving and sharing, see
Belk’s article “Sharing.” (Belk, “Sharing,” 715-734.)

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sharing aims. Either way, the hybrid links two simpler, or purer, economies, and produces
something from the link.
5

According to this definition, both BluTV and puhutv “aim to leverage value from sharing.” They
do that by channeling pirate streaming traditions and targeting the communities that were formed
around these pirate sites. BluTV’s and puhutv’s desire to “leverage value” becomes visible in their
CEO’s publically available interviews. These interviews help reveal the brand-making strategies
of both companies alongside their economic models. They also show that piracy is an inevitable
part of the discussion. It appears initially as an obstacle to overcome. However, pirate sites are also
mentioned as evidence of online demand as well as a source of potential viewers. Therefore,
sharing habits embedded in pirate practices appear as discussion topics in interviews with the
CEOs of both companies. For example, BluTV CEO Aydın Doğan Yalçındağ
6
cherishes user
comments while discussing how viewers embraced Masum and BluTV:
We have viewers, who say ‘We’ll make donations for you to produce more shows.’
When we had an issue with our iPad service, they used to say ‘Your iPad application
isn’t working.’ Now they say ‘There is a small glitch in BluTV’s iPad app, but I know
they will fix it.’

Yalçındağ’s emphasis is on BluTV viewers’ willingness to support the new platform. According
to his words, these subscribers
**
provide constructive feedback instead of brutal criticism. What
Yalçındağ shares to express their subscribers’ appreciation and acceptance of BluTV actually
depicts the unique connection between online streaming platforms and their users. Viewers’
offers to make “donations” hints at a deviation from commercial economy. The users of BluTV,
a paid online streaming platform, suggest to donate—not pay—for the company to produce
more shows. In today’s world of Kickstarter campaigns, this willingness can be linked to the

**
Yalçındağ uses “izleyici” (viewer) and “üye” (subscriber or member) interchangeably.
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spread of crowdfunding or to a desire to signal existing demand. Once we take a step back and
look at the pirate online streaming platforms Yalçındağ mentions, a culture of contribution
becomes more visible. In other words, the BluTV CEO praises the devotion of fans that is
deeply rooted in online sharing and piracy practices. The paid online streaming model uses this
devotion to strengthen its brand marketing and capitalize it. In my survey of pirate online
streaming in Turkey,
7
I discuss the donation pages on pirate online streaming sites in the early
2010s and how clicking on ads became a way to support these sites’ services. Yalçındağ’s
mention of donation offers as evidence of user loyalty is reminiscent of this pirate streaming
practice. In both cases, donations function towards crowdfunding. However, there is an
important difference. The donations for these pirate websites aim to preserve access while the
donations offered to BluTV focus on the production of new shows—a capability the pirate
streaming sites lack. This crowdsourcing reflex can also be associated with fan activism that
became globally visible when producers started to use fan support to realize their projects. One
of the best-known examples is the Veronica Mars Kickstarter Project, which helped reviving
the cancelled TV show with a film. BluTV users mimic this behavior in their interaction with a
media company that makes money by providing online streaming service. However, their
willingness to contribute is not unique to BluTV. The users of pirate streaming platforms
previously did the same to help site administrators cover domain costs.
While Lessig disqualifies monetary exchange from the sharing economy, this practice
of donation is an accepted norm in the user communities of pirate streaming sites. In this regard,
Jenkins, Ford and Green’s distinction between “value” and “worth” is helpful to understand why
money can still be part of the sharing economy.
8
While showing the difficulty of converting
“sentimental worth” to “economic value,” this comparison hints at the existence of forms of
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sharing and exchanging beyond the principles of commodity and labor exchange in commercial
economies.
9
“Donation” indicates a sentimental contribution based on worth instead of a
commercial exchange based on value. Therefore, the result is not a commodity exchange, but a
practice of sharing culture.
Within this context, Yalçındağ’s point unearths a less discussed connection between
piracy and paid online streaming practices. Authorized online streaming services present
themselves as fair alternatives to pirate sites. However, these authorized platforms thrive upon
the habits of the users of pirate sites. In other words, there is a continuation between the pirate
sites and the legal alternatives like BluTV based on fan culture associated with online sharing.
While they move to legal options like BluTV, as the reference above reveals, they redirect their
sentimental connections with pirate sites to these new platforms. In other words, a similar bond,
which cannot be explained simply based on commercial exchange dynamics, is replicated.
These new models of streaming are learning a lot from the pirate models, which they are
trying to replace. In a whitepaper from the Convergence Culture Consortium, Abigail De Kosnik
elaborates on how paid models can take lessons from digital piracy.
10
De Kosnik lists easier
navigation (via single search, simple indexing, uniform software and interface), enhanced file
portability and archiving options as well as access to global TV.
11
All these advantages associated
with piracy are combined with the low-cost and commercial-free nature of pirate access.
12

However, De Kosnik considers television piracy as “potentially useful and relevant, rather than
absolutely threatening, to mainstream media” and adds:
Many individuals do not pirate TV just because it is free, but because piracy is the easiest,
simplest, most feature-rich means available to them for acquiring TV by means of the
Internet. Ideally, as television migrates more and more to the Internet, the TV industry will
incorporate some of piracy’s benefits in an effort to offer the highest-quality product
possible to customers.
13

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While De Kosnik focuses on what can be learned from the pirate models, the main goal for BluTV
and puhutv remains to be replacing these pirate alternatives.
The aforementioned pirate online streaming sites have been popular in Turkey mostly
because they provided free and quick access to foreign TV shows. They hosted Turkish shows
from time to time, but with mainstream channels starting their own online platforms, legal
pressure on pirate sites have increased. This pressure has changed pirated online streaming sites
rapidly in the last five years. In addition to both network and cable channels—like Digiturk and
D-Smart—online streaming platforms like BluTV now pursue copyright infringement cases.
This screenshot taken in July 2017 reveals clues about this change:
We couldn’t find the show you are looking for. We had put it somewhere, but it’s gone.
Ouch. Just joking. The [show] was removed because of copyrights. Can we recommend
another one from the popular shows of this week?
14

Removing content because of copyright problems is not new for pirate streaming platforms.
However, previously sites would include only short notes saying the content is no longer
available. Here, Dizilab explains the removal by clearly referencing copyright problems with
some humor. The removed show—The Handmaid’s Tale—is currently on BluTV’s catalog.
This information becomes more meaningful once the company CEO Yalçındağ’s desire to
appeal to online viewers is considered. These removal requests aim to direct online viewers of
pirated content to BluTV.
Figure 3.6 Dizilab Screenshot
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This struggle can be understood better in relation to the impact of digital technologies on
copyrights regimes. Apart from enabling information dissemination and providing new
opportunities for mobilization, digital technologies have challenged the rivalry of intellectual
property. An enhanced capability to store and to copy content digitally has opened up new
networks of sharing content, which had been previously protected by intellectual property regimes.
While unauthorized copying and piracy were not new for music, film and television industries, the
internet connected a bigger group of global “sharers.” This brings us back to the question of
globalization both in terms of the commercialization of the Internet and the spread of online
streaming models, as well as the Anglo-American quality standards these platforms prioritize. To
explain how BluTV and puhutv help re-commodify de-commodified copyrighted television
content, I will first map the debates around the global commercialization of the Internet. Then, I
will discuss how the comparison of BluTV and puhutv models reveals the ways in which
localization works in favor of the global commercialization of the Internet. Finally, I will explore
how these models also spread Anglo-American quality standards with their content.

Hybrid Online Streaming Models and the Commercialization of the Internet

Like any other type of frontier, digital frontiers had an early period of freedom until laws and
regulations caught up with technological advancements. Nevertheless, users changed along with
technology even before regimes of control, like the copyrights system, expanded to the digital
arena. This transformation can also be contextualized within the larger framework of digitalization,
copyrights, and commercialization of the Internet.
††
With the Internet, the increased capability to

††
For more on these debates, see: Andrejevic, “Surveillance in the Digital Enclosure”; Andrejevic,
“Watching Television Without Pity”; Fleming, “Poisoning the Affective Economy”; Lessig, Free Culture.

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create and circulate content online contributed to the way for what Lessig calls “free culture.” He
describes free culture in relation to its capacity to enhance creativity, which also helps
contextualize his discussion of commercial, sharing, and hybrid economies:
A free culture supports and protects creators and innovators. It does this directly by
granting intellectual property rights. But it does so indirectly by limiting the reach of those
rights, to guarantee that follow-on creators and innovators remain as free as possible from
the control of the past. A free culture is not a culture without property, just as a free market
is not a market in which everything is free. The opposite of a free culture is a “permission
culture”—a culture in which creators get to create only with the permission of the powerful,
or of creators from the past.
15

A new property rights regime is an important part of Lessig’s discussion. While he does not call
for a complete erasure of intellectual property rights, he suggests “Creative Commons” as a model
to protect content while making it eligible for being “built upon.”
16
Lessig’s model leaves the
extent of copyright protection to content creators, though he clearly does not condone piracy.
However, other scholars see the sharing capability offered by the Internet as a way to overthrow
existing copyright systems.
‡‡
When intellectual property rights are associated with the capitalistic
market economy, piracy becomes a way to challenge the system by defying these rights. On one
hand, Lessig’s hybrid business models do not carry the same radical potential. On the other hand,
the potential associated with piracy and online sharing seems to be fading with increasing legal
pressure.
Turkey seems to be following the United States’ lead in this legal and corporate fight
against piracy. Despite the initial boom of pirate online websites, the control over online sharing
and piracy has significantly increased in Turkey in the past few years. Pirate streaming websites

‡‡
Three important examples of this celebratory approach are: Arvidsson, “The Ethical Economy”;
Dafermos and Söderberg, “The Hacker Movement”; and Moore and Karatzogianni, “Parallel Visions of
Peer Production”.

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in Turkey were able to survive multiple rounds of attacks in earlier years. However, in 2012,
Diziport.com—one of the most popular online streaming platforms in Turkey—lost a copyright
infringement case against Twentieth Century Fox.
17
The website stopped streaming shows soon
after. Other websites emerged after Diziport.com, but as soon as they gained popularity, they
started to face similar court cases. Despite legal pressures, similar pirate websites managed to
survive until the emergence of BluTV and puhutv. In December of 2016, four popular pirate
platforms, DiziBOX, Dizipub, Dizimag and DiziLAB, were shut down.
§§
The timing is not
coincidental considering the emergence of BluTV and puhutv as well as Netflix’s entrance to the
Turkish market. In that context, BluTV and puhutv CEOs’ recurring references to piracy in Turkey
and their persistence to overcome it become more relevant.
As the notice of take down I shared above reveals, attacks which before had been only
occasional are now replaced with more systematic surveillance. Mark Andrejevic’s work on digital
enclosures resonates in this context. In his article “Surveillance in the Digital Enclosure,”
Andrejevic describes “the model of digital enclosure” as “a way of theorizing the forms of
productivity and monitoring facilitated by ubiquitous interactivity” and continues: “Monitoring, in
this context, refers specifically to the collection of information, with or without the knowledge of
users, that has actual or speculative economic value.”
18
While Andrejevic is more concerned about
utilization of user-generated content and data for monetization, the analogy of enclosures expands

§§
“Dizi” means “Series/Serial” in Turkish.
For news coverage on the shutdown, see:
“Yabanci Dizi Severlere Kötü Haber,” Sputniknews, 30 December 2016,
https://tr.sputniknews.com/turkiye/201612301026567726-yabanci-dizi-internet-sitesi-kapatildi/;
“Dizi Siteleri kapatıldı mı,” Haberturk, 30 December 2016,
http://www.haberturk.com/gundem/haber/1342980-dizi-siteleri-kapatildi-mi ;
“Ünlü Dizi Siteleri Kapatıldı” Odatv, 30 December 2016, http://odatv.com/unlu-dizi-siteleri-kapatildi-
3012161200.html

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to other questions of ownership and copyrights related to the internet. He traces that analogy back
to the enclosure movement in England, which restricted access to communal land to create
ownership in the 16
th
Century.
19
Like the “enclosing” of communal land, communal parts of the
Internet became “enclosed” via commercialization.
Andrejevic’s digital enclosures analogy becomes very important in this context, since it
emphasizes an attempt to privatize, commercialize and control in this digital arena. While it is not
surprising that power holders or dominant actors—such as TV networks, producers or online
streaming companies like BluTV and puhutv—want to reproduce their existing advantages in these
new frontiers, the fact that new technological possibilities and cultural practices paved a way to
question existing systems of property and exchange complicates the situation. Both puhutv and
BluTV are examples which re-commodify what has been de-commodified by users with the help
of digital technologies. In other words, the Internet is no longer a shelter enabling viewers to bypass
the copyrights regime like it was ten years ago. The fact that both companies are owned by two
important media corporations—Doğuş Medya and Doğan Medya—which also own television
channels, also shows the connections between commercialization and online streaming. In other
words, both Doğuş Medya and Doğan Medya are now trying to redirect pirate viewing back to
themselves with BluTV and puhutv.
Although Andrejevic distinguishes digital enclosures from land enclosure in terms of the
threat of force,
20
there are forceful attacks on pirate online streaming websites initiated by
companies like BluTV and puhutv. These attacks are not physical, but legal, and these legal attacks
go hand in hand with the emergence of paid online streaming services. While this consolidation
happened earlier in the United States—possibly due to the earlier birth of such services, it is
currently happening in Turkey. Not only the laws, but also commercial streaming models are
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catching up as the Turkish television industry gains strength. As the reach of laws and regulations
increases, digital gatekeeping of technology companies aid companies like BluTV and puhutv in
their legal battles against pirate online streaming.
***
These strategies increase the risks of pirate
online sharing. In other words, the online protection of the copyrights regime is being globally
consolidated. Up until the moment Turkish media companies decided to enter the streaming market,
despite sporadic attempts to protect the copyrights of foreign shows, pirate online streaming
culture retained its importance. Questions about the possibility of providing paid access to online
streaming in a country where pirate online streaming culture is strong are being answered as pirate
streaming websites are closing one by one.
†††
As local stakeholders are joining the streaming
market, they are also globalizing the online copyrights regime.
However, this increasing emphasis on copyright protection is also related to the
strengthening of the Turkish television industry and its recent success as a content exporter. The
beginning of this transformation can be traced back to the early 2000s. The success in exporting
Turkish content abroad changed the destiny of Turkish television. The maturation of the market
led to the increased control and commercialization of the online circulation of the television
content.

Transforming the Turkish Market: Re-Commodifying the De-Commodified

Turkey, which started to export its TV content to the Middle East and the Balkans during the first
decade of the 2000s, quickly became a strong exporter. Between 2004 and 2012, television exports
increased from $10,000 to $200,000,000.
21
This increasing export potential made the domestic

***
Other examples of such interventions are discussed in the following sources:
Fleming, “Poisoning the Affective Economy”; Lobato and Thomas, “The Business of Anti-Piracy.”

†††
The same questions are also relevant for Russia.
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market more competitive at the same time. Intense competition created an environment where
failure to thrive soon translated into quick cancellations. In addition to this, increasing censorship
and control caused creative restraints. In this context, the Internet appeared a freer environment.
Considering this, these online platforms provided a chance to move niche television content to a
less regulated realm. The fact that both platforms are owned by two of the biggest media
conglomerates in Turkey further complicated their relationship with television. Instead of
competing with mainstream television, these platforms hope to recapture the more educated and
younger audiences who have long deserted mainstream TV channels. In other words, the goal was
to complement their parent company’s services and re-direct some of the piracy back to the formal
economy.
These tendencies became very visible in the media coverage about BluTV’s and puhutv’s
launches. Especially the interviews with both platforms’ CEOs are quite revealing in terms of their
brand strategies. The first interesting element of these interviews is the fact that they always
included references and comparisons to Netflix. With that, the prominence of the Netflix model—
for CEOs, journalists and viewers who are expected to understand these questions—was almost
taken for granted. Another striking point about these discussions is both CEOs’ desires to
acknowledge Netflix’s impact while trying to distinguish their services from it. Aydın Doğan
Yalçındağ’s interview with Cengiz Semercioğlu provides an insight into this delicate act of
balancing legitimacy and novelty for brand building.
22
Semercioğlu’s question about people’s
reaction to BluTV leads to a discussion on Netflix comparisons:
Masum is the first online television show in Turkey. How are the reactions? Is there an
increase in subscriber numbers?

There is a big interest in Masum. Some people in Turkey don’t like longer runtimes.
As a shorter show, Masum attracted that group and was embraced by them. We have
viewers who say, ‘We’ll make donations for you to produce more shows.’ When we
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had an issue with our iPad service, they used to say, ‘Your iPad application isn’t
working.’ Now they say, ‘There is a small glitch in BluTV’s iPad app, but I know they
will fix it.’ There was a demand and BluTV answered it.

Can we position BluTV as the Turkish Netflix?

We can position it as a platform which answers every demand. Because BluTV has
live channels. Netflix does not have that.

Do you believe there is a mass audience for original productions like BluTV’s?

As a team, we believe in that. Think about pirate websites. They have millions of unique
viewers. Kanal D’s website has millions of unique viewers. There is a mass group [of
viewers] consuming Turkish and foreign shows online. With Masum, we target both
consumers of Turkish shows and those who consume foreign shows because of shorter
runtimes and interesting subjects. Masum targets both these groups. That’s why we
believe there will be good feedback.
23

Yalçındağ’s exchange with Cengiz Semercioğlu reveals three important points about online
streaming in Turkey. First, Netflix’s globally recognizable model quickly becomes the major
point of reference. In other words, BluTV’s services are immediately compared to Netflix’s
services. Yalçındağ’s response tries to distinguish BluTV’s services and legitimize its
introduction to the Turkish market as Netflix emerges as a competitor by entering the Turkish
market. The second important reference is the amount of piracy in Turkish context. While
discussing BluTV’s parent company Doğan Medya’s online presence, Yalçındağ acknowledges
the piracy traffic in Turkey and introduces viewers of pirated content as potential target
audiences. With such connection, online sharing and piracy become proof of demand for
BluTV’s streaming services. Finally, Yalçındağ’s emphasis on viewers who prefer shorter
runtimes and enjoy foreign shows indicates BluTV brand’s proximity to Anglo-American
quality. In a sense, shorter runtimes and “interesting subjects” become brand markers for BluTV
in a way reminiscent of HBO and Netflix’s quality branding.
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All three of these references—to Netflix, to piracy and to the fans of foreign content—
are heavily influenced by Netflix’s global expansion and its quality-based branding strategies.
As a torchbearer in online streaming, Netflix becomes a reference point when local examples
like BluTV come to existence. For the same reason, allusions to quality and attempts to
distinguish online viewers from mainstream audiences can be understood as a predictable
strategy. However, puhutv has a different relationship to this type of branding. The CEO Ateş
İnce navigates questions about Netflix and Anglo-American quality by focusing more on the
unique nature of the Turkish market. This preference appears in puhutv’s economic model as
well.
Unlike BluTV, puhutv does not require any subscription fees, but the platform includes
commercials as I previously mentioned. In an interview, puhutv CEO Ateş İnce explains the
reason for providing access to content without payment:

puhutv won’t be a paid service, it will be free. Is that correct?

Yes, it will be free. There are four or five countries in the world that have valuable series.
For example, in France and Germany, their shows are not as prominent in people’s
[daily] lives. The society there does not live with TV shows like we do. In this context
there are four leading countries that are noteworthy [in terms of living with TV shows
like we do]. Turkey, India, Korea and the U.S. But 90% of television services are paid
in the U.S. It is free to watch [TV] series here [in Turkey]. Now, if this habit is built on
not paying, if people are used to watching shows on television in their homes for free, it
is really hard to ask for money and get it. It is a challenge to ask for this from viewers
who have been accessing TV shows without paying for 25 years. This is a journey. Yes,
content should be paid for, but it is hard to achieve that change quickly. This is our
analysis […]
24

According to İnce’s words, their decision to forego subscription fees was a strategic move
to adapt to local conditions. He also emphasizes how viewers are used to free access—since Turkey
lacks a robust cable tradition, unlike the United States—and how unwilling they would be to pay
to watch TV shows online. Therefore, İnce refers to no-pay access to television content in Turkey
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as the major reason for their decision. The free access via pirate online streaming websites is
another element of that free access culture, yet the puhutv CEO does not mention that. Instead of
online streaming—legal or illegal models, he focuses on the comparisons with other TV markets
in different parts of the world.
Although he exaggerates the ratio of paid TV services in the U.S. as part of this comparative
evaluation mentioned above, İnce is correct to say that these paid services are less popular in the
Turkish context. In addition to network channels, there are subscription television such as Digiturk
and D-Smart which provide access to a variety of their own channels—some featuring foreign and
original content. There are also basic satellite subscription services, which include access to some
local and foreign channels. Nevertheless, none of these services match the popularity of network
channels and their television shows.
puhutv aims to navigate this resistance against paid access to content with its free
subscription model. This free subscription model is sustained by advertising fees puhutv receives
from advertisers. The earnings puhutv receives from commercials appease licensing demands of
content creators, which secures a protection that is lacking on pirate streaming sites. Here, the free
subscription is key to converting online streamers to puhutv subscribers. This integration embodies
control and co-optation, too. By bringing online viewers into a legitimate platform of access, the
pirate streaming is challenged.
This complicated relationship between pirate online streaming and legal online streaming
is also visible in Netflix’s brand image, which has a strong influence on the BluTV and puhutv
brands. Different forms of piracy, such as peer-to-peer file sharing protocols, appeared both as
rivals and as a source of inspiration for content selection. The process of choosing shows to host
on Netflix is also influenced by the popularity of content in piracy circles, according the Vice
!
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President of Content Acquisition, Kelly Merryman.
25
Therefore, piracy, which is an obstacle to
overcome, also reveals information about demands. However, what distinguishes puhutv’s model
from Netflix and BluTV in the Turkish context is its decision to forego subscription fees. In other
words, puhutv moves one step closer to the pirate online streaming model by opting for
commercials instead of subscription fees. Nevertheless, having the support of its parent company,
Doğuş Medya, puhutv has something no Turkish pirate online streaming platform has—the
capacity to produce a Turkish original. This power enables puhutv to exclude foreign content from
their portfolio. İnce’s interview with famous TV blogger Ranini is very clear in terms of the
company’s strategical preferences:

So you won’t predominantly include foreign TV shows?

Turkish shows are valuable for us. This is very important content. There are foreign show
emperors in the market. Netflix entered [the market], Amazon Prime entered. HBO and
Hulu may join anytime. We don’t want to enter that category and end up as “the apprentice.”
We don’t have foreign content now, but we might include it as part of our expansion plans
in the long term.”

Once you set this up, how did you decide to produce original content?

Let me explain puhutv logic with the basics. Think about it as a supermarket. A product
can be found in a small neighborhood store or in a big market. We prefer to go to the
supermarket because there is a variety. We buy a product we didn’t have in mind while
looking for another. Everything is before your eyes. Displayed in order and in a clean
manner. You access things easily. We needed an original product to quicken our
introduction process and shorten the time needed to create user habits, and most
importantly to create excitement for the viewers and the sector.
26

The puhutv CEO’s example is overtly capitalistic and commercial. He refers to “the supermarket”
as a mini-model of the Turkish media market. In other words, he clearly stays on the market
analogy.
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At the end of the interview, İnce concludes that in the future, they might offer premium
membership, which would enable viewing without commercials. Then, he states that the current
version will remain at work nonetheless. Unlike Yalçındağ, who argues that there is enough
demand for BluTV and its competitors such as Netflix, İnce avoids comparisons to the Netflix
model.
27
In fact, he strategically mentions Amazon Prime, HBO, and Hulu to prevent Netflix—a
soon to be competitor—from emerging as the sole point of reference for puhutv’s model.
İnce’s statements gravitate towards localization both in terms of business decisions and
marketing strategies. In addition to avoiding Netflix comparisons, he continuously brings up
“viewer habits”
‡‡‡
and his company’s desire to acclimatize their viewers.
28
İnce’s emphasis stays
on the “free access culture” in Turkey while discussing “viewer habits.” Unlike Yalçındağ, as
briefly mentioned above, İnce’s analysis does not acknowledge piracy overtly but his free access
emphasis can easily be understood as reference to pirate online streaming websites. Both YouTube
and more specialized “Dizi” sites enable viewers to reach TV content for free online.
§§§
Once the
widespread use of pirate online streaming sites is considered as above even the mainstream
television habits, İnce’s points about free access gain more relevance.
Considering that puhutv’s first original Fi reached 50 million viewers online,
29
Ateş İnce’s
and puhutv’s localization strategies have paid off. While puhutv started with providing quick
online access to contemporary Turkish shows, the turning point for the platform was the
introduction of their first online original Fi. An analysis of the show reveals how puhutv’s
localization of the online streaming model based on prevalent pirate streaming culture is mirrored

‡‡‡
İnce uses “izleyici” (viewer) instead of “kullanici” (user) or “üye” (subscriber).

§§§
“Dizi” means “series” in Turkish, but a more contextual translation would be “TV series.” Pirate
online streaming sites usually incorporate the word “dizi” in their names such as HDDizi or DiziLab.
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by their melodramatic “glocalization” of the Anglo-American quality standards with their first
original Fi.
Like Fi, which reflects puhutv’s emphasis on localization, BluTV’s Masum reflects the
platform’s more faithful adaptation of the global streaming model and its use of Anglo-American
quality standards. Comparison of the two shows provides a chance to survey the complex
relationship between globalization, localization and hybridization within the context of television
flows. Therefore, in the following section, I will first explore the relationship between Anglo-
American quality programming and the rise of digital technologies. Then, I will locate BluTV’s
Masum as part of the spread of the Anglo-American quality programming through the
globalization of online streaming. Afterwards, I will discuss puhutv’s glocalization of quality by
hybridizing Anglo-American quality standards and Turkish melodrama traditions.

Online Streaming and Quality Programming

In this section, I explore how digital technologies have helped spread an Anglo-American
definition of quality programming globally and I discuss puhutv’s Fi and BluTV’s Masum as
examples of this expansion. After exploring Masum’s application of global quality standards, I
explain how Fi incorporates Turkish narrative and aesthetic elements into the Anglo-American
model. Since puhutv’s economic model and branding strategies acknowledge the specificities of
the Turkish market, the incorporation of the Turkish melodramatic style in their show Fi
strengthens the case for hybridization and localization. Despite this element of hybridization, the
analysis of both shows in relation to the economic model of their online streaming platforms
reveals the convergence between the digitalization and globalization of quality programming. With
examples like puhutv and BluTV, Turkey emerges as a complex case study where the global
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standardization of quality content via online streaming challenges the previously successful model
of melodrama production and exports.

Quality Programming: From Cable to Digital

The popularity of quality programming on American television can be traced back to the rise of
cable technologies. Although Janet McCabe and Kim Akass mention earlier models of quality
television such as The Mary Tyler Moore Show,
30
today’s discussions about quality programming
in the Unites States revolve around what I would like to call HBO-type of quality. This type of
programming, whether we describe it as a televisual mode or a genre on its own, has become
popular first for American cable channels and then for digital platforms like Netflix. Niche
targeting and segmentation associated with cable and satellite technologies continue their influence
on online streaming services. While there are critiques, such as Charlotte Brunsdon’s article
“Problems with Quality,”
31
viewers and scholars do have a common understanding of what quality
television means in the Anglo-American context. As explained by Elliott Logan,
32
controversial
storylines, auteur-like showrunners, higher production values, cinematic style, involvement of film
actors and film directors, genre hybridity, self-reflexivity, complex narratives and in-depth
character development are common elements of this type of programming. These characteristics
distinguish quality programming from the “least objectionable programming” of the mainstream
networks. In this context, quality programming is associated with niche targeting, which aims to
reach a specific segment of the population instead of catering to mass audiences.
Following their analysis of the network era and the least offensive programming targeting
mass audiences, Michael Curtin and Jane Shattuc similarly point out the increasing access to cable,
satellite and home video in the American context.
33
Borrowing Amanda Lotz’s definition of
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“multichannel transition,” they associate this increasing diversity with niche programming and
narrowcasting. Curtin and Shattuc argue that the Internet further contributed to on-going
diversification, which opened up “the matrix era.”
34
Equipped with DVRs, computers and TV sets
that provide internet access, today’s viewers have more options than ever. This transformation not
only increases time-shifted viewing and skipping of commercials, but also enables unauthorized
circulation, which is discussed in relation to piracy and online sharing above.
Lotz uses the term “post-network” to describe what Curtin and Shattuc prefer to call the
“matrix era.”
35
While contrasting the network era with multichannel transition and post-network
era, Lotz points to the increasing cost that resulted from diversification by explaining how viewers
have started to pay more for digital cable, premium channels, HD and DVR services along with
regular cable subscription.
36
She includes Netflix subscription and fees associated with integrated
technologies like mobile phones.
37
This diversification depicts a more personalized and active
form of viewing, which allows viewers to pick and choose more than broadcast television.
A similar change in viewing habits was associated with the cable boom. Along with
technology, viewers changed. In Cable Visions, Sarah Banet-Weiser, Cynthia Chris, and Anthony
Freitas explain this change towards a more active form of viewership.
38
This active viewership
was associated with demand driven by viewers’ preferences replacing broadcast networks’ desire
to appeal to the masses. Being less dependent on advertising thanks to subscription, cable channels
were able to introduce “quality content,” defined as “adult-oriented drama with high production
values” as well as content targeting smaller demographics with niche programming.
39

Personalization and niche targeting are similarly associated with new forms of digital
viewership. Personal computers, laptops, tablets and smartphones increasingly enable individuals
to watch what they want when they want to. These devices build upon cable’s emphasis on niche
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programming. With multiple paid on-demand video services, diversification has increased the
overall costs of access for viewers as Lotz states.
Therefore, considering the niche targeting goals shared by cable channels and online
streaming platforms, it is not surprising that Netflix executives recurrently refer to HBO, a
premium cable channel, as their major competitor for original content. HBO’s introduction of
original programming led to a success similar to Netflix's. As a premium cable channel, HBO
didn’t have to appeal to the masses to satiate advertisers’ preferences.
40
While this allowed for the
introduction of content that would not be aired on network television, the niche targeting still had
to attract enough subscribers.
41
Curtin and Shattuc argue that this goal was achieved by
constructing “quality branding” around “original programming.”
42
Other cable channels like AMC
and Starz have similarly followed HBO’s lead in introducing original programming.
While original programming was introduced by HBO in the early 1990s, the re-branding
didn’t take place until the late 1990s. The critically acclaimed prison drama Oz (1997-2003), the
first one-hour-long original drama of HBO, was followed by The Sopranos (1999-2007). The show
earned multiple nominations and won many awards at awards shows. Following the success of
The Sopranos, HBO focused more on original content. That shift of focus reflected upon the brand
identity of the channel as it started to claim the role of quality content provider. In his discussion
of online dramas and their relationship with previous forms of television content,
43
Glen Creeber
quotes media scholar Toby Miller and The Sopranos creator David Chase to identify the cinematic
elements of HBO content and the strategic emphasis on these elements for marketing purposes:
For Toby Miller, HBO’s production values were also ‘commensurately high – shooting on
film, using long takes, filming at night, cameras on the move, single-camera production to
permit multiple set-ups’ and so on (2008: x). Interestingly, the creator of The Sopranos,
David Chase, professed to profoundly disliking the medium in which he worked. ‘I don’t
watch television’, he has explained. ‘Not a single other show. Just The Sopranos’ (cited by
Stephen Armstrong, 2007: 16). This may help explain why he vowed to make every one of
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its episodes aspire ‘to be a like a movie’.
44

Here “cinematic” becomes evidence of quality for brand marking and marketing. Having built up
this quality brand in the U.S., HBO now provides service to global audiences via partnership
projects, distribution deals, and on-demand video services in different parts of the world. Unlike
most other networks, HBO has not licensed content to Netflix and instead introduced its own online
service, HBO Go.
Netflix’s move towards original programming and the critical acclaim Netflix originals
garnered quickly resembles HBO’s transformation, which can be contextualized in relation to
increasing diversification. BluTV and puhutv are the product of the same wave of diversification.
As part of this global spread of online streaming, they follow Anglo-American quality branding
strategies, which are associated with targeting niche audiences. Like their business models and
branding strategies, these two platforms’ original programming debuts mirror Anglo-American
quality programming standards. However, the comparison of BluTV’s Masum and puhutv’s Fi
reveals the latter’s higher level of localization and hybridization. In order to understand how this
hybridization happens, Jason Mittell’s work on “Complex Television” provides the lead to explore
how genre hybridization becomes an element of “glocalizing” Anglo-American quality
programming in the Turkish case.

Complexity, Genre Hybridization and the Glocalization of Quality

In his book Complex TV, Jason Mittell discusses storytelling strategies which are more common
in complex television shows: “Complex narratives also employ a number of storytelling devices
that, while not unique to this mode, are used with such frequency and regularity as to become more
acceptable narrative norms rather than exceptional outliers.”
45
He identifies these devices as
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“analepses, or alterations in chronology,” “dream or fantasy sequences,” “retelling of the same
story from multiple perspectives,” “breaking of the fourth wall,” and a “more ambiguous use of
voice-over narration.”
46
After comparing these to art cinema’s storytelling preferences, Mittell
argues that despite the danger of becoming confusing, these shows promise a “payoff” for the
audiences, who patiently watch until the end.
47
Mittell also explains the rise of complex television
with reference to the Internet’s contribution to participatory engagement and collective intelligence,
which are important for online fan cultures and active fan feedback.
48

Although Mittell acknowledges the overlap between his notion of complex television and
the quality television elements prevalent in literature on quality TV, he abstains from equating the
two terms.
49
This decision is understandable considering Mittell’s emphasis on not accepting
“complexity as marker of quality.”
50
While discussing Sarah Cardwell’s treatment of quality as a
genre instead of an evaluative category,
51
or explaining his choice to approach melodrama as a
televisual mode instead of a genre,
52
Mittell makes it clear that he focuses on storytelling modes
instead of genre categorizations. Therefore, he does not approach complex television as a genre
and describes it instead as a mode of storytelling that allows genre hybridization.
53

Independent of scholars’ decisions to define complex television and quality as genres or
modes, as Mittell acknowledges, the storytelling strategies he lists are popular in shows classified
in the quality programming category by scholars, journalists, and fans. Therefore, as I mentioned
at the beginning of this section, after an impressive survey of literature, Logan identifies
controversial storylines, auteur-like showrunners, higher production values, cinematic style,
involvement of film actors and film directors, genre hybridity, self-reflexivity, complex narratives
and in-depth character development as common elements of this type of programming.
54

These strategies are commonly used in BluTV’s original Masum and puhutv’s original Fi.
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While Mittell avoids equating “complex TV” with “quality TV,” following Michael Newman and
Elana Levine’s lead, I take complexity as an important indicator to identify quality programming
standards.
55
Newman and Levine also explain how “complexity” becomes a recurring reference in
academic studies and mainstream press coverage about “quality television.”
56
Due to this
contextual connection, in my analysis, I prefer to use “complexity” within the larger framework of
quality standards. Although I use “quality television” as my main analytical category instead of
“complex television,” I find Mittell’s discussion of quality programming, melodrama and
complexity very useful for studying these two shows, which like Mittell suggests, mix genres to
achieve complexity and quality. In this context, I argue that the different levels of hybridization in
Masum and Fi reveal how puhutv demonstrates a more successful example of localization. This
localization of content is in line with puhutv’s preference to adapt its streaming model according
to local habits. BluTV, on the other hand, follows the Anglo-American streaming model and the
Anglo-American quality programming standards more strictly.

Masum: Globalization of Anglo-American Quality

With its hallucination scenes, dream sequences and almost absurdist imaginary singing scene,
Masum is quite different than mainstream television content. These characteristics quickly help to
classify the show as a quality show according to Logan’s definition and an example of complex
television according to Mittell’s categorization.
****
The story begins with a troubled cop going
back to his hometown to solve a crime. Yusuf (Ali Atay) is a divorced father of an adolescent
daughter. When his ex-wife and her new husband complain about Yusuf’s attempts to get her new

****
Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun are two TV examples that exceptionally resort to these strategies, but
their production value is far below Masum’s.
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husband arrested, Yusuf’s chief sends him to small seaside town to help solve a murder. Further
complicating the matters, the crime involves his family and his best friend Taner (Serkan Keskin)
from childhood.
This crime thriller is written by Berkun Oya, whose Son (The End) remains the most
successful Turkish scripted format export in Western Europe, as discussed in Chapter 1. Oya, who
is well versed in Western literary and stage traditions, adapted the show from his own stage play
“Flag.” Considering Son’s success in the Western Europe, BluTV’s decision to have Oya write
their first online original is not surprising.
††††
BluTV’s economic model is similar to that of Netflix,
and its similar branding strategy reveals an emphasis on quality programming. Also, Oya’s ability
to create a text that travels to the West makes him an appealing choice since the platform clearly
aimed to align itself with Turkish fans of foreign shows. Both as the origin of production and the
destination of exports, the West is associated with quality.
Like Son, Masum bears many of the indicators of “quality” or “complexity”
identified by Logan and Mittell. For example, the famous playwright Berkun Oya emerges as a
showrunner since the show’s marketing
materials almost always refer to him. The
show’s director Seren Yüce is an award-
winning film director, and contributes to the
cinematic aesthetics of the show. The show’s
cast includes acclaimed actors such as Haluk
Bilginer, Nur Sürer, Ali Atay, Okan Yalabık, Serkan Keskin and Tülin Özen. The show’s

††††
Oya also adapted the American format Revenge (2011-2015) as Intikam (2015) for Kanal D. Although
the show did not survive beyond its second season, it provides more evidence for Oya’s familiarity with
the Western formats and strategies.
Figure 3.7 Tarık hallucinates Emel shaking his medicine bottle
in Masum.
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composition of a famous cast and crew further aligns the program with the Anglo-American
quality standards discussed by Logan. Like Mittell’s examples of complex television, the show
also hybridizes two genres: crime thriller and family melodrama. However, crime thriller elements
are much more dominant in comparison to the melodramatic elements. Therefore, Masum does
not fully embrace an intense level of genre hybridization as much as Fi does. Despite this lighter
version of genre hybridization, alterations in chronology via flashbacks, dream sequences and
hallucinations as well as the telling of the story from multiple perspectives place Masum in
Mittell’s complex television category.
As Mittell explains, such storytelling strategies can appear on mainstream television,
‡‡‡‡

but not to the extent of their appearance on
“complex” or “quality” shows. Masum is a
contemporary story, but it oscillates between
different periods of time with flashbacks and
dream sequences. It has a slow pace, which
would make it more fitting for Scandinavian or
French television than the Turkish screen. In Masum, Tarık’s (Okan Yalıbık) mental health issues
create the opportunity for the use of recurring hallucinations. After his wife Emel’s (Tülin Özen)
death, Tarık continues to see her ghost. Similarly, Emel’s co-worker Selim’s (Bartu
Küçükçağlayan) obsession with Emel enables the inclusion of fantasy scenes. In one of these
scenes, Selim imagines serenading Emel in the work place. An elaborate musical sequence with
everyone at the office singing and dancing interjects the narrative in an absurd manner. Selim

‡‡‡‡
Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun use some of these strategies and they make up for the lack of
production value with the contemporary political criticism.
Figure 3.8 Selim talking to Emel at the office (Screenshot from
Masum.)
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accesses more information about Emel by recommending his therapist sister to her. He then
secretly records Emel’s sessions.
There are some plot details that would speak to Turkish viewers more clearly, such as
Tarık’s imaginary conversations with his military commander. Turkish audiences, familiar with
the traumas of mandatory military service, will make more sense of these exchanges. Nevertheless,
the ways in which these scenes are filmed still mimic Anglo-American quality programming
aesthetics. In other words, the subject has Turkish elements but the visual and narrative language
is not very Turkish. This difference makes itself visible as soon as the show begins. The beautiful
aerial shots accompanied by a techno-folk soundtrack make the show’s opening credits look a lot
like the opening credits of European crime dramas.
Considering the history of crime television in Turkey, Masum stands out as an exception.
There have been mainstream police melodramas like Arka Sokaklar (The Backstreets, 2016-2017),
foreign format adaptations like Galip Derviş (2013-2014)—based on Monk (2002-2009)—and
politically critical Behzat Ç. (2010-2013) in the last decade. However, these shows follow a
procedural format. Masum is a standalone series that revolves around the same case during its
single season run. This limited format further contributes to Masum’s difference from mainstream
Turkish shows. Apart from several adaptations like Çıplak Gerçek (The Naked Truth, 2012) and
20 Dakika (20 Minutes, 2013),
§§§§
the limited series is a rare format for Turkish television.
Like Masum’s difference from Turkish crime shows, its similarity with recent examples of
globally travelling crime thrillers is hard to miss. Deep Waters (2016) in Australia, Top of the Lake
(2013) in New Zealand, and La Treve (The Truce, 2015) in Belgium are shows similarly setting
the story around a cop going back to his or her hometown. Like Yusuf in Masum, these cops end

§§§§
Çıplak Gerçek (The Naked Truth) was based on an Israeli format. 20 Dakika (20 Minutes) is based on
the American film The Next Three Days (2010).
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up facing their pasts as well as the crimes committed. These global applications of the same trope
are not surprising considering the global nature of crime itself. Crime shows are globally relevant,
as is crime, and this global familiarity creates a necessary condition for the globalization of the
crime genre. While melodramas, action stories and physical comedies are identified as globally
viable choices for content exports,
57
this genre also is familiar to viewers from around the world
thanks to the rich history of crime literature.
Building on this literary basis, detective shows have long been circulating across borders.
Earlier examples like The Avengers (1961-1969) and Columbo (1968-1978) were succeeded by
contemporary examples like Sherlock (2010-2017) or the more procedural CSI: Crime Scene
Investigation (2000-2015) in global circulation. However, the Anglo-American hegemony over
the global flows of the genre has been challenged first by Scandinavian and then by other European
examples. The increasing mobility of British shows, which was an influence in spreading the
limited series format and shorter seasons, and the recent popularity of Scandinavian crime shows,
which increased exposure to the crime genre, are other components of this globalizing turn.
Swedish Wallander (2005-2013), Danish-Swedish co-production Bron/Broen (The Bridge, 2011-
On) and Belgian Les Temoins (The Witnesses, 2014-2017) and Le Treve (2015) are recent non-
English examples of this change. Despite the historical British connection, New Zealand-set Top
of the Lake is yet another example of newcomers beyond the North American and Western
European territories.
All these shows are similarly categorized as quality programming due to slow-burning
narratives, in-depth character building, meticulous cinematography and strong acting. They can be
produced by public broadcasters in their home countries, but they usually end up on cable channels
or online streaming platforms in the United States. These shows’ popularity in the U.S. and in the
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U.K. creates publicity, which furthers global demand. Scholars like Glen Creeber argue the same
popularity is the reason behind the production of shows such as True Detective, which mimic the
noir shows’ aesthetics.
58

Local examples like Masum indicate the emergence of a global trend, if not a globally
constructed genre.
*****
Masum and the other shows also tactfully combine crime with
melodramatic elements. In a way reminiscent of Tara McPherson’s categorization of 24 as a
masculinized melodrama,
59
these shows can be described as crime dramas wrapped in Anglo-
American quality standards. Quoting Newman and Levine,
60
Mittell explains the same situation
as using melodramatic modes of storytelling while mixing genres and masculinizing melodramatic
seriality to enhance complexity.
61
Mittell also argues that the popularity of serial melodramas
might have contributed to the incorporation of melodramatic elements in “traditionally masculinist
genres.”
62
Either way mixing genres is an indicator of complexity according to his categorization.
In this context, Masum’s genre hybridization remains very mild. While family melodrama
elements are incorporated, the crime thriller characteristics of the show remain dominant. In
addition, Masum is not completely “odorless” according Koichi Iwabuchi’s categorization of
transnational television flows, since the show bears several cultural marks.
63
Iwabuchi argues that
globally circulating content usually is devoid of strong cultural markers and becomes culturally
“odorless” in that sense.
64
Masum includes details that would be more accessible to Turkish
viewers. But these details, such as the reference to mandatory army service, are small enough to

*****
These shows usually feature cast members from around the world while the stories also move between
borders. For example, Midnight Sun (2016) takes this globalization one step further by globalizing the cast
and the story. The French lead goes to solve a murder in Sweden. The show, which is created by the
producers of Bron/Broen (2011) is a French-Swedish co-production. Similarly, another crime series
Fortitude (2015) is a British produced TV show set in Norway and filmed in Iceland. Although Masum
does not have such form of cast globalization, Oya’s former show Son did incorporate a multi-national cast.

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avoid distraction from non-Turkish viewers. Nevertheless, they include a tinge of political
criticism visible for educated audiences in Turkey. This way, Masum mimics the complexity
element of Anglo-American quality programming, which involves incorporating controversial
socio-political narratives. In other words, the use of these cultural details still conforms to the
complexity and quality expectations in the Anglo-American context. Moreover, Masum abstains
from using stylistic choices, such as sound effects accompanying close-up shots of emotional
reactions or long sequences overpowered by non-diegetic music, which are strongly associated
with Turkish melodramas. Fi, however, embraces these choices and provides a stronger case for
glocalizing the Anglo-American quality by incorporating Turkish melodrama characteristics into
the show.

Fi: Glocalization of Quality via Genre Hybridization

Like Masum, Fi bears quality or complexity characteristics listed by Logan and Mittell. For
example, Fi incorporates mental illness and therapy in its narrative like Masum does. However,
Fi’s setting is more urban compared to Masum’s rural setting. Fi’s story is about Can Manay’s
(Ozan Güven) obsession with young ballet dancer Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya). Manay, who has a Dr.
Phil-type talk show on television, is a famous therapist. He notices young Duru while looking for
a new place to live. He immediately moves into the house to be Duru’s neighbor. Can Manay soon
finds out that Duru is with Deniz (Mehmet Günsür). As Manay’s obsession grows, the viewers
find out that his past is way darker than anyone can imagine.
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The show is based on Azra Sarızeybek Kohen’s trilogy Fi, Çi, Pi. The story, which
takes place in Istanbul, revolves around Manay’s love for Duru and a young journalist’s desire to
uncover Manay’s dark past. Fi remains a very
urban and mostly upper-class story. Those who
come from less advantaged backgrounds enter the
story in connection with their encounters with
upper-class Can Manay and Duru. For example,
Can Manay’s student Bilge is on scholarship, but she attends a private college. In addition to
Manay’s colleagues and acquaintances, Duru’s friends from the dance school belong to a small
privileged section of the population.
Considering this urban class element in the story,
Fi becomes an appropriate text for quality programming
purposes. Manay’s self- help guru image as a therapist fits
well with Anglo-American quality programming
expectations. Partially because of HBO’s success with
The Sopranos and In Treatment, therapy and
psychological narratives have become popular indicators
of more complex storylines. Can Manay functions as the embodiment of this complexity. This
character is a successful and popular therapist with a
TV show. His occupation as well as his mysterious
past—including the period he spent in a mental
institution—contribute to the complexity. In
addition to the complexity associated with these
Figure 3.9 Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya) dancing in Fi.
Figure 3.10 Can Manay (Ozan Güven) on his talk-show in
Fi.
Figure 3.11 Can Manay (Ozan Güven) and Sıla (Özge
Özpirinçci) in Fi.
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psychiatry-based narratives, there is an inevitable potential of global circulation in Fi. Both
Manay’s TV therapist appeal and Duru’s dancing career can be moved to any big city in the world.
In other words, the subject matter becomes globally recognizable. At the same time, the show also
targets educated younger viewers in Turkey, who are more familiar with Anglo-American quality
standards.
Narrative and aesthetic choices of the show also include bolder depictions of sex as well
as the introduction of a gay main character, Özge
(Berrak Tüzünataç), in the story. While RTÜK
(Supreme Council of Radio and Television) prohibits
sex scenes on television, online streaming platforms are
not subject to these strict broadcast rules. The latter
choice of a gay character is a rare case for Turkish
television. Except for vague and minor references and depictions, a gay main character is a rare
thing on Turkish television. The most prominent example would be Zekeriya (Emre Karayel) in
Bir İstanbul Masalı (An Istanbul Fairytale, 2003-2005). Zekeriya’s sexuality is briefly mentioned
in a conversation with the show’s lead Selim (Mehmet Aslantuğ), who happens to be Zekeriya’s
best friend. A less successful example was Mahmut (İstemihan Tuna) in Kampüsistan (2003). The
visibly feminine Mahmut ended up impregnating his best friend Mine, which put an abrupt end to
the gay storyline. There are more negative representations such as Osman Sınav’s Kılıç Günü (The
Day of Sword, 2010), which revealed one character in bed with his partner. Sınav later commented
that the scene aimed to reveal the immorality of gay people.
65

A more recent depiction of gay characters happened when Behzat Ç. featured a murder
story about a gay couple (Episode 76). However, this representation was part of the weekly case
Figure 3.12 Özge (Berrak Tüzünataç) in Fi.
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of the procedural. Politically charged Behzat Ç., which endured political pressure during its three
season run, is clearly an exception. Since 2013, after the consolidation of AKP’s (Justice and
Development Party) power, both gay characters and overall inclusion of sex scenes visibly
decreased on Turkish television.
Therefore, compared to most mainstream television shows during the conservative AKP
(Justice and Development Party) rule, Fi’s treatment of Özge’s sexuality pushes the show as a
Turkish counterpart of the premium cable realm in the United States.
†††††
As an online show, it
manages to sideline RTÜK regulations and offers viewers what they cannot see on mainstream
television.
The show’s bold scenes and its popular cast—most of the leading characters are portrayed
by actors who are famous in Turkey and the Middle
East—drew more attention and a bigger fan
following than Masum. Although both shows
conform to Anglo-American quality standards, the
major difference that distinguishes Fi from Masum
is that the former carries traces of melodramatic
aesthetics associated with Turkish television dramas. There are several “zoom-ins” on the faces of
main characters during tense encounters throughout the show,
66
and with one of the major settings
of the story an art school, lengthy music and dance performances are scattered throughout the
episodes.

†††††
Although Özge’s interactions with Murat Kolhan (Osman Sonat) were criticized by Ozan Geçmiş for
depicting Özge’s sexual orientation as something simply changed by the right man (“Kurban-Avcı
İkileminde Bir Taciz Öyküsü: Fi” Kaos GL, 24 June 2017, http://www.kaosgl.org/sayfa.php?id=24083).

Figure 3.13 Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya) and Deniz
(Mehmet Günsür) in Fi.
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! 126!
In other words, despite mimicking elements of Anglo-American quality, Fi bears unique
marks of the Turkish market at the same time. Every week two 60-minute-long episodes are
released on the same day. Although there is an emphasis on shorter runtime, this two-episode
release model follows 90-to-110-minute-long mainstream television standards. Moreover, the
show pays an homage to Turkish melodrama conventions by incorporating longer musical
scenes—which are very rare for Anglo-American quality shows. Both these observations prove
puhutv’s decision to “transition smoothly.” The show localizes Anglo-American standards with
slight adjustments. The fact that its producer Ay Yapım is a domestic and regional production
company explains this awareness of Turkish context.
Fi’s popularity among Turkish viewers might be because of these examples of
melodramatic televisual choices, to which Turkish viewers are accustomed. At the same time, it is
necessary to mention that the story revolves around an urban and educated group of characters
who seem to be immune to society’s moral pressures. Privileged enough to seek therapy, to commit
their lives to art or to choose whichever partner they want, the show’s characters paint a picture
which can be transplanted to any other metropole in the world. Their stories will be more relevant
to a Parisian viewer than a rural Turkish viewer. Despite Fi’s storytelling revealing its Turkish
accent in a few places, its essence remains closer to the language of Anglo-American quality
programming.
In other words, what sets Fi apart from Masum is its success in genre hybridization. Fi
does not only achieve complexity and quality by hybridizing melodrama conventions with
psychological thriller elements. It also manages to bridge two different target groups: Quality
content consumers and melodrama fans. This is a crucial move considering the success of Turkish
melodramas in Turkey and in the export markets outside of North America and Western Europe.
!
! 127!
Considering how peripheral content is more easily categorized as primetime soap operas
or telenovelas and how soaps in general are pushed out of the quality programming categories,
67

the masculinizing of this Turkish melodrama is a very important aspect in the overlapping of
geographical and gender hierarchies. First, soap operas, which are mostly associated with female
viewership,
68
are deemed as lesser examples of television content.
69
Then, peripheral content such
as Brazilian telenovelas, Turkish melodramas,
‡‡‡‡‡
and Korean dramas are usually mentioned with
reference to their melodramatic or soap-ish characteristics.
§§§§§

‡‡‡‡‡
For example, Muhteşem Yüzyıl (2011-2014) aired on the Spanish-speaking channel MundoMax
(formerly known as MundoFox) in the U.S. market in 2014. Telemundo adapted another Turkish format
Aşk-ı Memnu as Pasión Prohibida (2013). Also, in 2015’s MIPCOM, Kim Moses of Sanders and Moses
Production company stated that they believe Turkish content would resonate well with Hispanic audiences
in the U.S.

§§§§§
Cynthia Littleton, “Turkish Telenovelas, Korean Soaps Join Latest Wave of Global TV Exports,”
Variety, 4 April 2016, http://variety.com/2016/tv/columns/globalization-tv-business-fatmagul-
1201742167/

Figure 3.14 Categorizing peripheral content as soaps or telenovelas. Retrieved from:
https://variety.com/2016/tv/columns/globalization-tv-business-fatmagul-1201742167/
!
! 128!
Fi retains its melodramatic elements, which did not prevent Turkish shows’ transnational
success. In other words, the show holds onto what was accepted as part of the television exports
originating from Turkey first in the Middle East and the Balkans and then in Central Asia and
Latin America. However, incorporation of the psychological thriller elements and a male
protagonist—Can Manay—masculinizes its content and elevates the status of its genre. Once
combined with bolder sex scenes, the show deviates from the Turkish mainstream television
standards. While preserving its melodramatic appeal with its stylistic choices and popular casting,
which promise a certain viewership base in Turkey and in the Middle East, the show also utilizes
“HBO style” quality elements that fall in line with online streaming platforms’ marketing emphasis
on quality programming.
This unique example of glocalization provides a new chance to observe how national,
regional and global market standards interact with each other. Therefore, it will be interesting to
observe if examples like Fi increase the “local” in “glocal” to create a competitive edge in a way
reminiscent of 1960s and 1970s arthouse films competing in festivals. puhutv CEO Ateş İnce
explained that the production company Ay Yapım owns Fi’s international rights.
70
International
format and finished program distributor Ecco Rights already purchased the international
distribution rights to Fi. At the show’s launch party, Ay Yapım owner Kerem Çatay told the press
that they were in talks to sell Fi to six countries.
71
Only time will tell whether the show can
transcend borders of Turkish television exports and enter the Western European and Northern
American markets—on English speaking channels. In October, the show was sold to South
Korea’s GTV and became the first Turkish show to enter the South Korean market.
72
Another
important question is how Middle Eastern audiences—who according to mainstream media
coverage and the Neo-Ottoman arguments
73
explored in my introduction and Chapter 1—like
!
! 129!
Turkish content for its appropriate mix of modernism and traditionalism—will react to this bolder
version of melodramatic expression. We are yet to see if any Arabic language channels will
purchase the rights of the show and air it after censorship. However, a quick Google search reveals
a lot of non-Turkish fans are sharing access links to the show as well as subtitles prepared by
fansubbers. In other words, like the Turkish case itself, the show’s global journey offers a complex
vista of transnational television flows in the age of digitalization.

Conclusion

With the growing global accessibility of American and European online streaming platforms and
the emergence of local versions like BluTV and puhutv, these quality programming standards are
slowly consolidated in other markets. A closer look at Masum and Fi, two Turkey-based
applications of these standards, reveals how digitalization helps to globalize the Anglo-American
definition of quality programming now more than ever. Still, Fi’s relative success over Masum in
attracting viewers by continuing to incorporate the melodramatic components associated with
Turkish television underlines the need to find the golden ratio between Anglo-American quality
standards and Turkish televisual traditions to achieve domestic success while producing globally
mobile shows.
Although BluTV’s CEO Aydın Doğan Yalçındağ
74
had specifically said in an interview
that Masum was not going to air on TV, the show started to air on Kanal D in August of 2017.
Kanal D is not a surprising choice since it is owned by the same parent company that owns BluTV.
Soon after this transition, rumors about Fi moving to Show TV began. The mobility between online
streaming platforms and television channels is not unheard of, but the speed of this move in the
Turkish case is noteworthy.
!
! 130!
With Netflix and Amazon Prime entering the Turkish market, only time will tell if puhutv’s
hybrid model will gain success and secure its survival or will simply help transition viewers to a
competitive market of paid online streaming. Whether or not this Turkish model manages to
compete with global streaming services will give us clues about the intricate web of relations
between multidirectionality, online streaming and quality programming in global television
markets.

Table of Figures—Chapter 2
Figure 3.1 BluTV Screenshot Masum ........................................................................................... 89!
Figure 3.2 puhutv Screenshot. In addition to “Dizi” (Series) and “Film” (Film) tabs, there
is a separate tab for the platform’s first original show, Fi. ........................................................... 90!
Figure 3.3 puhutv Main Catalog with shows ................................................................................ 91!
Figure 3.5 BluTV-Main Catalog with international and Turkish content. ................................... 92!
Figure 3.4 BluTV-Main Catalog with BluTV originals as the first three shows. ......................... 92!
Figure 3.6 Dizilab Screenshot ....................................................................................................... 98!
Figure 3.7 Tarık hallucinates Emel shaking his medicine bottle in Masum. .............................. 117!
Figure 3.8 Selim talking to Emel at the office (Screenshot from Masum.) ................................ 118!
Figure 3.9 Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya) dancing in Fi. .................................................................... 123!
Figure 3.10 Can Manay (Ozan Güven) on his talk-show in Fi. .................................................. 123!
Figure 3.11 Can Manay (Ozan Güven) and Sıla (Özge Özpirinçci) in Fi. ................................. 123!
Figure 3.12 Özge (Berrak Tüzünataç) in Fi. ............................................................................... 124!
Figure 3.13 Duru (Serenay Sarıkaya) and Deniz (Mehmet Günsür) in Fi. ................................. 125!
Figure 3.14 Categorizing peripheral content as soaps or telenovelas. Retrieved from:
https://variety.com/2016/tv/columns/globalization-tv-business-fatmagul-1201742167/ ........... 127!

1
Logan, “‘Quality Television’ as a Critical Obstacle,” 144-162.

2
Masum’s creator Berkun Oya alludes to the harsh conditions of the sector while discussing the shorter
runtime of the show: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SItFITuipPw

3
“Ateş İnce: ‘Turk dizisi ulkemizin en degerli ve basarili urunu, puhutv’nin misyonu da bu urunu
desteklemek’,” Ranini TV, 2 July 2017, http://www.ranini.tv/roportaj/22314/1/ates-ince-turk-dizisi-
ulkemizin-en-degerli-ve-basarili-urunu-puhutv

4
Lessig, Remix, 118.

5
Lessig, 177.

6
Cengiz Semercioğlu, “BluTV tüm sektörü heyecanlandırıyor,” Hurriyet, 12 February 2017,

!
! 131!

http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/yazarlar/cengiz-semercioglu/blutv-tum-sektoru-heyecanlandiriyor-40362685

7
Sebnem Baran, Yayınlanmamış Yüksek Lisans Tezi (Unpublished MA Thesis), Boğaziçi Üniversitesi,
Istanbul (2012).

8
Jenkins, Ford, and Green, Spreadable Media.

9
Jenkins, Ford and Green, 86.

10
De Kosnik, “Piracy is the Future.”

11
De Kosnik, 5-11.

12
De Kosnik, 12.

13
De Kosnik, 16.

14
Retrieved from Dizilab.com.

15
Lessig, Free Culture, xvi.

16
Lessig, 282.

17
“Diziport’a açılan korsan yayıncılık davası sonuçlandı,” MediaCat, 1 November 2012,
http://www.mediacatonline.com/diziporta-acilan-korsan-yayincilik-davasi-sonuclandi/

18
Andrejevic, “Surveillance in the Digital Enclosure,” 295-317.

19
Andrejevic, 302.

20
Andrejevic, 305.

21
“Turkey World’s Second Highest TV Series Exporter After US,” Daily News, 26 October 2014,
http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/turkey-worlds-second-highest-tv-series-exporter-after-us-73478

22
Cengiz Semercioğlu, “BluTV tüm sektörü canlandırıyor,” Hurriyet, 12 February 2017,
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/yazarlar/cengiz-semercioglu/blutv-tum-sektoru-heyecanlandiriyor-40362685

23
Original conversation:
“Masum”, Türkiye’de internet televizyonculuğunda yapılan ilk dizi. İlgi nasıl? Abone
sayısında artış oldu mu?

-“Masum”a çok ilgi var. Televizyon dizilerinin süresi uzun olduğu için bazı insanlar bundan
hoşlanmıyor. “Masum” kısa olduğundan o kitleyi kendine çekti ve çok sahiplenildi. “Size
bağış yapalım da daha çok dizi yapın” diyen izleyicilerimiz var. iPad servisimizde bir sorun
olduğunda “iPad uygulamanız çalışmıyor” derlerdi. Şimdi “BluTV’nin iPad uygulamasında
küçük bir hata var ama düzelteceklerini biliyorum” diyorlar. Bir açık vardı ve BluTV bu
ihtiyaca cevap verdi.

BLUTV, HER TALEBİ KARŞILAYAN BiR PLATFORM

!
! 132!

BluTV’yi Netflix’in yerlisi gibi konumlandırabilir miyiz?

- Her talebi karşılayan bir platform olarak tanımlayabiliriz. Çünkü içinde canlı kanallar da var.
Netflix’te bu yok.

- Türkiye’de BluTV gibi orijinal yapımları takip eden bir kitle olduğuna inanıyor
musun?

- Ekip olarak buna inanıyoruz. Korsan siteleri düşün, milyonlarca tekil ziyaretçileri var. Kanal
D’nin internet sitesinin aylık milyonlarca tekil ziyaretçisi var. İnternetten yerli ve yabancı dizi
tüketen büyük bir kitle var. “Masum”la hem yerli dizi tüketen hem de süresi ve çekici
senaryosu nedeniyle yabancı dizi tüketen kitleye hitap ediyoruz. “Masum” o iki kitleye de
hitap ediyor. O yüzden iyi bir geri dönüşünün olacağını düşünüyoruz.

24
“Ateş İnce: ‘Türk dizisi ülkemizin en değerli ve başarılı ürünü, puhutv’nin misyonu da bu ürünü
desteklemek’,” Ranini TV, 02. 07, 2017, http://www.ranini.tv/roportaj/22314/1/ates-ince-turk-dizisi-
ulkemizin-en-degerli-ve-basarili-urunu-puhutv

25
Tim Worstall, “How Clever, Netflix Monitors to Purchase Content,” Forbes, 16 September 2013,
http://www.forbes.com/sites/timworstall/2013/09/16/how-clever-netflix-monitors-bittorrent-to-purchase-
shows/

26
“Ateş İnce: ‘Türk dizisi ülkemizin en değerli ve başarılı ürünü, puhutv’nin misyonu da bu ürünü
desteklemek’,” Ranini TV, 2 July 2017,
http://www.ranini.tv/roportaj/22314/1/ates-ince-turk-dizisi-ulkemizin-en-degerli-ve-basarili-urunu-puhutv

27
Cengiz Semercioğlu, “BluTV tüm sektörü canlandırıyor,” Hurriyet, 12 February 2017,
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/yazarlar/cengiz-semercioglu/blutv-tum-sektoru-heyecanlandiriyor-40362685

28
“Ateş İnce: ‘Türk dizisi ülkemizin en değerli ve başarılı ürünü, puhutv’nin misyonu da bu ürünü
desteklemek’,” Ranini TV, 2 July 2017, http://www.ranini.tv/roportaj/22314/1/ates-ince-turk-dizisi-
ulkemizin-en-degerli-ve-basarili-urunu-puhutv

29
“Puhutv’nin ilk orjinal içeriği Fi, elli milyon izlenme sayısına ulaştı,” Ranini.tv, 7 June 2017,
http://www.ranini.tv/haber/24917/1/puhutvnin-ilk-orjinal-icerigi-fi-elli-milyon-izlenme-sayisina-ulasti

30
McCabe and Akass, Quality TV.

31
Brunsdon, “Problems with Quality," 67-90.

32
Logan, “’Quality television’,” 144-162.

33
Logan, 31.

34
Logan.

35
Lotz, Television Will Be Revolutionized.

36
Lotz, 249.

37
Lotz, 249-250.
!
! 133!

38
Banet-Weiser, Chris and Freitas, Cable Visions, Kindle Locations 173-176.

39
Banet-Weiser, Chris and Freitas, 245-252.

40
Curtin and Shattuc, American Television Industry, 136.

41
Curtin and Shattuc.

42
Curtin and Shattuc, 137.

43
Creeber, “It’s Not TV, It’s Online Drama,” 591-606.

44
Creeber, 594.

45
Mittell, Complex TV, 48-49.

46
Mittell.

47
Mittell, 50.

48
Mittell, 35.

49
Mittell, 216.

50
Mittell, 290.

51
Mittell, 212.

52
Mittell, 233.

53
Mittell.

54
Logan, “Quality television’,” 144-162.

55
Newman and Levine, Legitimating Television,

56
Newman and Levine, 15.

57
Bielby and Harrington, Global TV.

58
Creeber, “Killing Us Softly,” 21-35.

59
McPherson, “Technosoap,” 173-190.

60
Newman and Levine, Legitimating Television.

61
Mittell, Complex TV, 246.

62
Mittell, 248.

!
! 134!

63
Iwabuchi, “From Western Gaze to Global Gaze,” 256-270.

64
Iwabuchi.

65
“Olay sahnenin yapımcısından çok tartışılacak açıklama,” Haberturk, 20 September 2010,
http://www.haberturk.com/medya/haber/553417-olay-sahnenin-yapimcisindan-cok-tartisilacak-aciklama

66
Feuer, “Melodrama, Serial Form and Television Today,” 11. In her study of Dallas and Dynasty, Feuer
identifies this as a melodramatic convention (11). She also mentions “holding a shot on the screen for at
least a “beat” after the dialogue has ended […] usually in combination with shot-reverse shot cuts
between the actors’ locked gazes” (10). Feuer includes acting, editing and musical understanding as
possible melodramatic factors (10).

67
Joyrich, Re-viewing Reception; Gledhill, “Speculations on the Relationship between Soap Opera and
Melodrama,” 103-124; Geraghty and Weissmann, “Women, Soap Opera and New Generations of
Feminists,” 365-368.

68
Kuhn, “Women’s Genres,” 145-154.

69
Mittell, Complex TV, 246.

70
“Ateş İnce: ‘Türk dizisi ülkemizin en değerli ve başarılı ürünü, puhutv’nin misyonu da bu ürünü
desteklemek,’ Ranini TV, 2 July 2017,
http://www.ranini.tv/roportaj/22314/1/ates-ince-turk-dizisi-ulkemizin-en-degerli-ve-basarili-urunu-puhutv

71
Erdi Yilmaz “Internet harcatmadan altı ay Fi’yi izletecek,” Yenisafak, 25 March 2017,
http://web.archive.org/web/20170331125012/http://www.yenisafak.com/gundem/internet-harcatmadan-
alti-ay-fiyi-izletecek-2633526

72
“Fi Asya’ya açılıyor” NTV, 2 October 2017, https://www.ntv.com.tr/yasam/fi-asyaya-
aciliyor,CxPsle1iNkeUZDO-oFmDJA

73
Al-Ghazzi and Kraidy, “Turkey, the Middle East & the Media,” 2341-2360.

74
Cengiz Semercioğlu, “BluTV tüm sektörü canlandırıyor,” Hurriyet, 12 February 2017,
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/yazarlar/cengiz-semercioglu/blutv-tum-sektoru-heyecanlandiriyor-40362685

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! 135!
Chapter 3
Turkish Alternative:
Agency, Activism and Political Quality

The rapid political transformation of Turkey in the last decade has had visible repercussions for
Turkish television. Two Turkish TV shows, Leyla ile Mecnun (Leyla and Mecnun) and Behzat Ç.,
are highly publicized casualties of this change. Revealing the intricate relationship between
television and politics, power, and participation, these two shows even ended up entering the
parliamentary debates. In August 2013, Leyla ile Mecnun’s fate became the subject of a
parliamentary discussion when Candan Yüceer, a member of the Turkish parliament, addressed
the Deputy Prime Minister Bülent Arınç. Yüceer asked why Leyla ile Mecnun, one of the most
popular TV shows in the world according to IMDB, had been cancelled.
1
She continued by asking
if the show was cancelled due to the cast and the crew’s open support for the Gezi protests,
doubting any logical reason for the cancellation of a show, which had also been chosen as the best
comedy by Tomorrow’s Leaders Turkish Student Council with more than four million votes.
2
This
was not the first time a television show had been brought up for discussion in the parliament.
Behzat Ç., another show with a devoted and vocal fan following like Leyla ile Mecnun, had been
part of similar debates since it started to air in 2010.
Following the right-wing Nationalist Action Party PM Bülent Belen’s bill of complaint
about Behzat Ç. based on the extramarital relationship between Behzat and Esra (Belen specifically
underlined the fact that one of them was a cop and the other one was a prosecutor), the Minister
Responsible for Family and Social Politics, Fatma Şahin, expressed her dislike of the show’s
depiction of women.
3
In 2012, Bülent Arınç, the Vice Prime Minister of the Justice and
!
! 136!
Development Party (AKP) government, also responded by mentioning the fines issued by the
Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK) and added: “We are watching it carefully.”
4
Like
Leyla ile Mecnun fans, Behzat Ç. fans quickly organized public screenings to show their support
for this politically charged detective story and criticize censorship. These cases of fan activism
around Behzat Ç., and Leyla ile Mecnun provide critical information about the context of
production and help reveal why “political” emerged as an indicator of quality in Turkish television
between 2010-2013.
As quoted by many other scholars, Robert Thompson’s conclusion about the definition of
“quality programming”—“Quality TV is best defined by what it is not. It is not ‘regular’ TV”
5
—
is the guiding factor for establishing the status of Behzat Ç., and Leyla ile Mecnun as quality
programming. Under the increasing control of the AKP government over media, these shows
claimed their difference from others by expressing political critique on television. While fan
activism first aimed at securing the survival of these two shows, which were struggling to match
the higher ratings of mainstream television content, the nature of the activism and critique changed
with the escalation of political tension in the country. Eventually, the collaboration between the
fans and the creators, based on a Brechtian use of intertextuality and self-reflexivity, became more
political. This politicization provides an example of an alternative interpretation of quality
programming. Despite some narrative, generic and aesthetic overlaps between these two categories,
Turkish political quality differs from Anglo-American quality programming due to its overt
political motivation.
By depicting the intersection of fan activism and political participation, the cases of both
Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun reveal how audiences can transform into publics due to this
politicization. Intertextuality and self-reflexivity in both shows created high levels of spreadability
!
! 137!
for both shows, paving the way for young, educated and internet-savvy fans to circulate show-
related content. This online visibility enabled these fans to challenge the existing powerholders in
the television market when their shows faced with threats. While this challenge began with
challenges to the television industry in general regarding what was allowed to appear on television
and stay there based on ratings, when the government increased its control over television, the fans’
struggles became more political. By incorporating implicit and explicit political critiques in their
work, the cast and the writing/production teams contributed to this transformation of fans from
audiences into publics, inherently political in nature. In this context of changing platforms,
changing fans, and growing political pressure, the cases of Behzat Ç., and Leyla ile Mecnun show
how Turkish political quality appeared as an alternative to Anglo-American quality in this specific
point of time in Turkish history.
Faced with the risk of cancellation, the devoted and vocal fan followings of both shows
made themselves visible on social media and in mainstream media coverage with their fan activism.
While trying to prove that these shows were worthy of survival, the Behzat Ç., and Leyla ile
Mecnun fans used their activism to challenge a value hierarchy based on the ratings system. In
addition, the political and cultural relevance of the content, as well as the political critique
incorporated in both shows, set them apart from mainstream shows on Turkish television.
Especially considering how the AKP (Justice and Development Party) government began to attack
its critics more openly in the period leading to the general elections of June 12
th
, 2011, these two
shows stood out among the others with their bold criticism of the government.
Bilge Yesil explains this turning point with reference to the AKP’s success remaining in
power: “The AKP’s election victory in 2002 and consecutive wins in 2007 and 2011 created an
amenable setting for it to establish electoral hegemony and deepen the existing authoritarian
!
! 138!
neoliberal order.”
6
The problematic turning point was also manifested by the 2011 Broadcasting
Law (Law No. 6112), which not only “failed to address ownership issues, monopolies, and
concentration and continued to relegate to the RTÜK (The Radio and Television Supreme Council)
the role of censorship” but also “during times of crises […] gave the prime minister the authority
to impose a temporary ban on radio and television broadcasts.”
7
Other articles also included
“potential restrictions on freedom of speech.”
8

Yesil’s work is extremely useful for discussing how political quality emerged at this
specific time. While media was constantly facing the threat of censorship, Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile
Mecnun’s creative teams’ brave moves on and off-screen distinguished them from mainstream
media actors. With the AKP’s authoritarian tendency peaking during the Gezi Protests in 2013 and
mainstream media outlets avoiding covering the big protests—which started in Istanbul and spread
to other cities—the political nature of the country changed further. Unsurprisingly, Leyla ile
Mecnun creators’ support for these protests cost them the survival of the show. Prior to the Gezi
events, Behzat Ç. had already suffered from many RTÜK fines as part of the increasing control
mentioned by Yesil. Media regulatory authorities such as RTÜK and TİB/Telekomünikasyon
İletişim Başkanlığı (Telecommunication Communications Presidency) lacked autonomy, making
them both vulnerable to political influence.
9
Therefore, the bolder political commentary achieved
using intertextuality and self-reflexivity also marked the difference of these two shows from the
others. Once the political transformation of the country made it impossible for these shows’
critiques to continue, Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun’s fans activism gained a more political
character.
While this context of political oppression made the political connotations and activism
exceptional for the circumstances, the mocking of Turkish mainstream cultural products—once
!
! 139!
again via intertextuality and self-reflexivity—also functioned to separate these shows from the
others. Since Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun’s ratings could not match mainstream shows, making
fun of the culture industry—which was producing popular shows—became a way to challenge an
understanding of quality and success based on ratings. At the same time, the references to global
pop culture, which was sometimes mocked in a way reminiscent of the Turkish television culture—
marked shared cultural knowledge as status of the fans and the creative team.
In this context, these shows’ claim to quality overlaps with Anglo-American quality
programming indicators such as low ratings, difference from commercial television and younger
audiences.
*
They also share narrative, aesthetic and generic similarities with Anglo-American
quality shows. However, the use of these elements for political purposes distinguishes Turkish
quality programming from the Anglo-American version.

Moments of Resistance
Before elaborating more on what “political quality” entails narratively, aesthetically and
generically, I will first explain the rise of political quality with reference to fan activism around
Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun and how both cases of activism were informed by the Turkish
political context between 2010 and 2013. This context of production is essential for exploring how
fan activism transformed into political participation. The AKP government’s desire to control
media had a significant role in this transformation. The story of Behzat Ç. provides a way to map
this relationship.

*
For an extensive discussion of these indicators, see Steve Jenkins, “Hill Street Blues”; Brower, “Fans as
Tastemakers.”

!
! 140!
In late 2012, Emrah Serbes, the writer of the Behzat Ç. novels, criticized the AKP
government on a television program.
10
Serbes also announced that the eightieth episode of the TV
show based on his books would be addressing the highly controversial KCK (Koma Ciwaken
Kurdistan–Kurdistan Communities Union) trials against Kurdish activists. While Serbes’ harsh
critique of the government generated attention and led to many debates, the show Behzat Ç. had
already been a recurring topic for political discussions. Despite the frequent penalties issued by
the Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK), never-ending criticism by the government
and on-going debates about censorship in Turkey, Behzat Ç. nevertheless managed to continue to
incorporate contemporary political debates in the storyline with the support of its devoted fans.
The show, which finished after its third season despite relatively moderate ratings, provides an
interesting case study. Behzat Ç. reveals a unique picture about participation and engagement as
the series challenged the mainstream political discourse in media despite increasing pressures.
Behzat Ç. is named after the main protagonist, Behzat, a homicide detective. While his
peers have climbed to the upper echelons of bureaucracy, Behzat’s unwillingness to follow orders
leaves him as the head of the homicide department of the Ankara police. He obsessively pursues
murder cases and breaks laws along the way. His failed marriage has left his relationship with his
daughter strained, and his social life revolves mostly around his older brother and his police
colleagues. A chain smoker and a regular drinker, he is a man whose failures in life have led him
to focus almost exclusively on his job.
The series, which is based on novels by writer Emrah Serbes, goes beyond weekly murder
cases and who-dunnit stories, and ended up challenging the political authority as well as the media
dynamics by introducing a rather radical discourse to the mainstream TV channel. This unique
capability was the result of a collaboration between the fans and the creators, based on a Brechtian
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use of intertextuality and self-reflexivity for political purposes. This use, which I will later describe
and discuss as Turkish political quality, can only be understood by looking at the intersection of
fan activism and political participation. The case study of Behzat Ç. depicts an example where fan
activities transform into political activism, providing an interesting perspective on the relationship
between politics, power, resistance and participation.
Fan activism is a much-debated concept because of its commercial associations. Behzat Ç.
and Leyla ile Mecnun, however, provide examples of more direct connections between fan
activism and civic participation. In doing so, they rebut critiques of the linkage of fan activism and
civic participation. This line of critique, which coincides with surveys of fan labor and exploitation,
mostly targets the capitalistic nature of the participated production and circulation via fan activities
and fan activism. For example, referring to Enzensberg’ work, Christian Fuchs criticizes the
possibility of achieving participation via fan activism, arguing that democratic participation, by
definition, cannot be pursued in a corporate capitalistic environment.
11
Fuchs, here, alludes to the
capitalistic nature of the culture (and media) industries. While criticizing Jenkins’s work on
spreadability, Fuchs dichotomizes cultural and political participation. He attributes democratic
participation to the latter realm.
12

Repeating the questions of the critics, Brough and Shresthova (2012), depict the attributed
paradoxicality to fan activism:
How is it that fans can both participate in a commercial pop culture space, and at the same
time resist or attempt to change the status quo within or through the same hegemonic space?
When and how does commercial consumption become civic or political participation?
13

Then, they explain how fan activism can achieve participation:
Fan participation in and through commercial entertainment spaces is not predetermined to
be resistant or complicit—in fact, it is often both—but its political significance lies in part
in the changes in relations of power that may occur through such participation.
14

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In other words, participation and resistance do not have to be isolated and juxtaposed. They can
co-exist. It is possible for participation to lead to resistance. As the online sharing example depicts,
certain forms of participation—such as participation in circulation—directly challenge the existing
system of property and exchange. In a way, resistance comes from within while it uses the
capitalistic infrastructure. Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun are examples of this because they
incorporate political critique in their narratives while also being aired on mainstream commercial
television channels.
The notion of media spreadability considers this set of complications while looking at fan
activities. In this context, “spreadability” helps depict the connection between fan activism and
political participation. Building upon Jenkins’ work on participatory culture,
15
Jenkins, Ford and
Green survey the relationship between networked communities and media circulation.
16
These
networked communities exist within a networked media context. Not only are the lines between
producers and users blurred in that context, but the interactions between different parties also
appear both on online and offline platforms. As multiple actors are involved in the production,
circulation and consumption of media and content, their interactions influence and challenge each
other. The power struggle between them includes moments of collaboration and cooperation
adding up to the situation. Because of this, the analysis of the on-going transformation requires an
equal attention to moments of opposition and moments of cooperation.
Therefore, Jenkins, Ford and Green’s treatment of fan participation prioritizes the
engagement aspect over the possibility of exploitation:
The material emerging from DIY or fan communities provides a vehicle through which
people share their particular perspectives with the world, perspectives often not represented
in mass media. When audience members spread this content from one community to
another, they do so because they have a stake in the circulation of these messages. They
are embracing material meaningful to them because it has currency within their social
networks and because it facilitates conversations they want to have with their friends and
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families. We should thus describe such audience labor as “engaged” rather than
“exploited.”
17

After looking at the nuances of collaboration, participation and resistance, the writers establish
that fan engagement and participation can transform audiences into publics.
18
Since media
circulation is crucial for participatory fan culture, the characteristics of the circulated material
become essential to encourage further participation. Parody and references, as well as unfinished
content, mystery and the existence of timely controversy and rumors appear as strong cultivators
of spreadability.
19
All these characteristics are present in Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun
considering how their timely intertextual references caused the viral spread of clips and the media
coverage about the shows.
Spreadability thus helps map the link between fan activism and participation, for it is
crucial for the transformation of the audience into a public. Both Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun
fan communities gained visibility by “spreading” show-related content online. Then, they used
their visibility to challenge the mainstream rating system, which endangered the survival of their
shows, as well as the increasing political control over media. In other words, these fans used the
internet both to access content and circulate it. The intertextuality and self-reflexivity of both
shows, which will be discussed in detail, is also instrumental for understanding how the narrative,
aesthetic and generic characteristics of the content contribute to this spreadability.
Furthermore, the comparison of public and audiences is useful in studying the transition
from fan activism to political activism in the cases of Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun.
†
With a
closer look, the ways fan communities function and pursue activism reveal similarities with the

†
For more on fan activism, see Brough and Shresthova, “Fandom Meets Activism”; Henry Jenkins,
“'Cultural Acupuncture'; and Jenkins, Ford, and Green, Spreadable Media.

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analysis of democratic participation in the public sphere in literature.
‡
According to these
discussions, an inclusive public sphere that fosters discussion and deliberation is necessary for
providing a platform for participation and activism. Dayan’s survey of audiences and publics helps
see how fan communities can function as publics. Dayan explains:
Publics have other options. In particular, they can construct an alternative frame of
reception, a counter-frame. By so doing, they transform the proposed ‘imagined
community’ into an object of investigation, a theme for reflection. By so doing, they
question the values incorporated in the frame, and raise the Brechtian question of how such
values could ever be defended, if at all.
20

This capability of constructing alternative frames of reception and the questioning of the values
attached to those frames helps observing the transformation of audiences into a public which
challenges the power status quo by participation. Dayan’s categorization focuses more on
traditional forms of participation, however there is no consensus on that definition. Although a
similar hierarchy of participation is visible in Carpentier’s categorization of participation as
“participation in institutionalized politics,”
21
Jenkins presents engagement and interaction as
evidence of participation
22
. Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun are interesting because they pass
Dayan’s and Carpentier’s more strict definitions of participation. In other words, these shows’ fans
do become “publics.”
The creative teams of both Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun seem to share a desire to
transform their “audiences” into “publics.” This goal is evidenced in their publicly available
interviews. In an interview with PRI in late 2012, the executive producer of Behzat Ç., Tarzan
Karlıdağ, said that they were aiming at reaching an audience that does not read newspapers.
23
The

‡
Some examples of these analyses are: Dayan, “Mothers, Midwives and Abortionists”; Habermas, The
Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere; Fraser, “Rethinking the Public Sphere”; Livingstone,
“On the Relationship between Audiences and Publics”.

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show writer Ercan Mehmet Erdem and Emrah Serbes, the writer of the original Behzat Ç. novels,
similarly expressed their deliberate decision to include political issues in the storylines. Leyla ile
Mecnun cast and writing/producing team took this mobilization goal to another level when they
openly supported the political protests during the Gezi events in 2013. The cast released a mock
interview video in support of the protestors, which eventually caused the cancellation of the show
by the public broadcaster TRT.
The examples of fan activism from different parts of the world similarly depict how these
communities discuss, debate and deliberate through investigating and reflecting upon on-going
events and current discourses. Through the example of Harry Potter Alliance, Jenkins elaborates
on how fan activism can bridge micro and macro levels of politics.
24
While Kligler-Vilenchik et
al. survey both Harry Potter Alliance and Invisible Children via the narratives of the members,
25

Hinck studies how the Harry Potter story initiates public engagement.
26
Moreover, Jones explains
how X-Files fans organize to support the charities supported by the show’s star Gillian Anderson.
27

As these examples show, cases of fan activism vary among themselves. Some of them
involve mobilization for the continuation of the series, as the examples of Veronica Mars and
Jericho show.
28
Some other cases of fan activism are born out of the fan community’s use of the
solidarity within as it can be seen via Jenkins’ analysis of Harry Potter Alliance and Cochran’s
work on the link between Joss Whedon’s blog and Equality Now Movement.
Nonetheless, the review of the literature and the survey of examples above depict how fan
activism can ultimately challenge existing power dynamics. Audiences transform into publics as
they question the discourses surrounding them. While Leyla ile Mecnun’s story provides an
example where the show gradually caught up with the politics amid Turkey’s political
transformation, Behzat Ç.’s strong narrative emphasis on politics causes a more direct route
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between fan activism and political participation.

Pursuing Justice, Challenging the System: The Bizarre Tales of Behzat Ç.
The activism of the Behzat Ç. fandom was evident from the beginning, although the show
premiered with only humble ratings and continued with a similar performance. When the network
changed the show’s slot from Sunday night to Monday, then to Tuesday late night in a very short
span of time, the fans vocally expressed their concerns. Changing the day and time of broadcast
gave rise to rumors about a possible cancellation, because when Turkish channels resort to similar
moves, it is commonly followed by a further decline in the ratings. Disgruntled fans’ protests of
the last move forced STAR TV to go back to the original programming.
29
Fans of Gençlerbirliği,
the soccer team Behzat supports on the show, showed support for the series during a game.
30
Fans
called STAR TV and sent emails to prevent cancellation and expressed plans for protests via online
forums and websites such as ekşisözlük
31
. This fan activism attracted more attention to the series
and the popularity of the show started to increase. With the continuation of the TV series, the
network prioritized the engagement of existing viewers rather than the number of viewers, as
Jenkins, Ford and Green suggests.
32
It is possible to compare this first wave of fan activism to the
American counterparts mentioned above, such as Veronica Mars fans sending Mars bars to the
network to prevent cancellation. Another similar example would be Chuck fans buying Subway
sandwiches to show that the sponsorship was working for the benefit of the company.
33
What
makes the case of Behzat Ç. different, though, was the spread of this activism to a more directly
political platform due to the involvement of political actors and inclusion of political issues.
Therefore, when the Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK) fined the show for
alcohol use and profanity, fans saw the reason for the decision to be the conservative government’s
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dislike of the show. In fact, following the end of its first season, between 2011-2013, the series
aired with +13-rated warning after 10:00 pm. Still, the profane language was censored as well as
the bottles of alcoholic drinks and cigarettes. As also mentioned above, Fatma Şahin, the Minister
Responsible for Family and Social Politics,
34
and Bülent Arınç, the Vice Prime Minister of the
Justice and Development Party government, publically expressed their negative comments about
the show.
Another incident of serious reaction by a political actor followed towards the end of Season
Two. Behzat’s interactions within the series recurrently hinted at the conservative nepotism in
police organization and in larger framework of bureaucracy. The depiction of a prosecutor with
special competencies with a mustache (associated with conservativism) enraged Şamil Tayyar, a
PM from AKP.
§
Tayyar responded to the series on his Twitter account referring to Behzat as the
“alcoholic cop,” to which the creator of the show, Emrah Serbes, replied rather harshly, telling
Tayyar not to watch the show.
35

The show received further warnings and fines by the Radio and Television Supreme
Council many times due to its broadcasting without protective warnings of content that “might
harm the physical, mental and moral development of children and youth” in time slots when
children and young people may be exposed to the content. Another warning was directed at content
encouraging the use of alcohol, tobacco products and gambling. The warnings resulted in a fine of
273,170 TL (approximately 150,000 $ at the time).
36
Due to the amount of bleeping and blurring
necessitated by this censorship, as well as the late time of broadcast, fans reacted harshly.
Following the last fine, fans protested all of the developments by organizing an event to support

§
A highly controversial position, whereby prosecutors with special competencies are granted trials
handled by Courts with Special Competencies. These special competencies are criticized for threatening
fair trials.
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the show. In addition to changing their social media profile pictures with posters saying “Don’t
touch my Behzat Ç.,” fans organized a series of public screenings in Kızılay in the Çankaya district
of Ankara to watch the show together. The Çankaya Municipality supported the events, which were
joined by creator Emrah Serbes and the show’s screen writer Ercan Mehmet Erdem. Ankara’s
Çankaya municipality has long been held by the CHP (Republican People’s Party) while the
metropolitan municipality and the most other municipalities are run by AKP (Justice and
Development Party) mayors. In other words, the anti-government sentiment of the protests was
supported by the main opposition party.

Although the series received support from the CHP (Republican People’s Party) mayor, the
show did not hesitate to criticize the main opposition party, CHP, and the politics associated with
it. When questioned about the references about the Ergenekon trials,
**
the rather vocal creator of
the show publicly explained that Behzat Ç. was also not siding with the CHP, the main opposition

**
Trials against alleged members of the alleged secret organization planning to overthrow the
government.

Figure 4.1 Behzat Ç. Public Screening. Retrieved from:
http://www.milliyet.com.tr/behzat-c-ye-sahip-cik-eylemi-magazin-1546025/
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party, who had elected parliamentary members who were at that time in jail due to the Ergenekon
trials against the alleged secret secularist ultra-nationalist organization.
37
Serbes argued that they
believed in a third option instead of siding with AKP or CHP. Indeed, the show’s treatment of the
CHP politics was also critical. Two of the episodes criticized the anti-headscarf stance associated
with the party, and the storyline included Harun’s engagement with a scarfed young woman Meliha.
Once Meliha’s headscarf was frowned upon, Harun reacted against this. This reaction was
seen as Serbes’ way of saying they did not endorse CHP associated anti-headscarf politics. In
another episode, both metropolitan municipalities of Ankara and İzmir, which respectively had
AKP and CHP mayors, were criticized for their never-ending subway constructions—which served
as another indicator of the shows’ critique of mainstream political actors in general. In other words,
Serbes and the rest of the Behzat Ç. creative team did not only criticize the AKP policies; they
rather challenged the borders of mainstream political debates.
In this context, Behzat Ç. fans’ protests also revealed the complexity of the relationships
among the fans, the creators, the network and the political actors. Christine Gledhill explores the
role of “negotiation” in meaning making by building upon Stuart Hall’s work on
encoding/decoding and using Julie D’Acci’s feminist survey of Cagney and Lacey.
38
Referring to
Figure 4.2 Harun (Fatih Arıtman) and his soon-to-be fiancee Meliha (Derya Uçar) in
Behzat Ç.
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the same show, Gledhill explains how the writing/producing team faced conflicts with CBS
executives and the advertisers.
39
Behzat Ç.’s creative team similarly took a side when the fans
decided to protest the increasing political pressure and censorship. The attendance of Emrah Serbes
and Ercan Mehmet Erdem at one of the public screenings shows the solidarity between fans and
the creative team. In a way, they collaborated for the continuation of the series without censorship.
The role of the TV network was more complicated with reference to that collaboration since with
the help of the fans, the creative team gained leverage, leaving the network caught in-between the
fans, the creative team and the Radio and Television Supreme Council. Possibly due to the
channel’s desire to prevent more fines, the show’s slot was moved to late Friday night during its
last season. Moving the show to a later time at night was an attempt to escape fines based on
protection of the children from bad influence. Besides blurring alcoholic drinks, the names of the
drinks were also censored. Despite providing some protection against the fines, these measures
caused reactions from fans. The network ended up airing the uncensored versions on its website
two days after the original airing. This compromise also depicted a shift from the previous
approaches towards ratings. By encouraging online viewership, the network compromised
between the pressures of the fans and the Radio and Television Supreme Council.
In 2012, as mentioned at the beginning, the writer of the novels, Emrah Serbes, criticized
the government on a TV program and also said that an upcoming episode regarding the Kurdish
issue might be censored, so he asked the support of the fans.
40
This led to a press release from the
production company. The release stated that the writer was not affiliated with the show. While this
indicates that there was a break between the original creator and the producers on the surface level,
the show’s screenwriter Ercan Mehmet Erdem’s interview where he openly discussed the role of
the political issues in this police procedural,
41
showed that the production company did not
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ostracize the political aspects deeply since he also stated that the detective story is a means of
surveying political issues. Therefore, the collaboration of the creative team and the fans indicated
a resistance against the traditional media measurement systems through the fans’ participation. At
the same time, the political aspects of the story depicted the attempt by the creative team to foster
a public discussion beyond the mainstream media discourses. The network chose to air the series
not for the sake of contributing to that discourse, but for the sake of prestige and economic gain
provided by the show.
This complexity of power relations was enhanced more in the midst of Turkey’s political
transformation between 2010-2013, which I mention in my introduction and first chapter. While
both Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun struggled to stay on air despite increasing competition in the
domestic television market, the political associations of the shows also made them vulnerable to
the increasing political control of the AKP government.
In the case of Behzat Ç., fans’ engagement and support enabled the continuation of the
series on a mainstream TV channel for a while. It is necessary to mention that the channel was sold
by Doğan Media to Doğuş Media during the break between the Season 1 and Season 2.
Interestingly, the show’s producers had already agreed to transfer the show to Doğuş Media, which
was originally planning to start a new entertainment channel. When they bought STAR TV instead
of starting a new channel, the show remained there. Prior to that, Doğuş Group focused its attention
on their popular news channel, which went through a big transformation around the time of the
last elections amidst the rumors of political pressures. As Doğuş Group tried to adapt to the
changing political context, they opted to experiment with entertainment content. The group did
have entertainment outlets, such as CNBCE—which aired economy-related programs during the
day and aired non-Turkish shows with subtitles in the evening. However, the group had avoided
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producing fiction content in Turkish. This choice gave them a unique brand identity and
distinguished them from other media conglomerates. Their difference aligned well with Behzat
Ç.’s difference from mainstream shows. Therefore, their decision to pick up the show was not
surprising for those who were familiar with the dynamics of Turkish media.
Despite this critical rescue, the show ended up making its finale in May 2013 following its
third season. After the show’s cancellation, Behzat Ç. made a move towards the big screen with
the movie installation Behzat Ç.: Ankara Yanıyor. In spite of the lack of direct references, the story
is set in the context of nation-wide protests similar to the Gezi Events. Unlike Behzat Ç.’s creators,
the Leyla ile Mecnun team, which was caught off guard, did not have the chance to make a proper
finale for the show when their support of the Gezi movement caused the abrupt cancellation of the
show. While Behzat Ç.’s strong narrative emphasis on politics created a more direct route between
fan activism and civic participation, Leyla ile Mecnun’s journey provides a different example
where the show gradually caught up with politics in the midst of Turkey’s political transformation.

Fans: Audiences, Publics or Powerless Elites?
As Leyla ile Mecnun fans campaigned against the cancellation of their favorite TV show, they
blamed the state channel (TRT) on which the show aired on for making a decision based on the
cast and crew’s participation in the anti-government Gezi Protests. TRT responded to these
critiques by stating that Leyla ile Mecnun’s ratings were too low, even despite higher numbers of
streaming on the internet.
42
Fans started online petitions and quickly organized a protest at the
shooting location, during which they “waved their hands” at TRT.
43
Later, sit-in protests were
organized in different cities while hashtags supporting the show trended on Twitter. These
practices of fan activism were not new for the show, which became famous after the fans
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campaigned to get it on IMDB’s list of highest-rated shows to overcome the threat of low ratings.
Nevertheless, fans were not able to overturn the cancellation. In other words, exactly when
the fans were invited to become publics instead of audiences—by entering the political realm as
Dayan describes, they were punished by the government and as its extension the public broadcaster
TRT. The fans’ failure to ensure the show’s survival, which was contextualized in economic
references such as low ratings, is reminiscent of Tulloch’s conceptualization of fans as powerless
elites. In his survey of Doctor Who fandom, Tulloch describes fans as “powerless” elites:
In terms of their cultural capital (i.e. their phenomenal knowledge of the series which they
can draw on to fill in gaps in the storyline) these fans are an elite among readers of the
series. But in an important sense, they are a powerless elite, because their show depends on
ratings, and therefore on viewers ‘outside the Society’.
44

The elite status derives from these fans’ extensive knowledge of the content, while the lack of
power is associated with not having the capability to ensure the survival of the show. Tulloch
elaborates further on this lack of power by explaining that the fans cannot control the production
or direct the preferences of what Tulloch describes as “the wider viewing public.”
45
Despite having
the cultural capital, these fans cannot provide protection for their favorite TV show because the
economic model for television thrives on ratings and success requires a mainstream popularity.
This vulnerability was visible in both cases of Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç., where fans had to
campaign for the survival of their favorite shows. For a while, the respective channels of the shows
kept the programs on the air despite the low ratings due to the visible and vocal fan activism.
Nevertheless, it was not the low ratings, but the political pressures that caused the end of both
shows.
Despite their ultimate failure to prevent the cancellations of their favorite shows, the cases
of both Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. reveal that fans may not be as powerless as Tulloch argues
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that they are. Tulloch’s conceptualization has been challenged by the transformation of the current
context of media. For example, Hadas and Shifman elaborate on how the internet challenges both
the elite status and the powerlessness of fandom.
46
They also underline the changing context of
media production with reference to Web 2.0, which granted the fans with new capabilities of
production and circulation of the content by complicating the contextual differences beyond the
structural configuration of television industries.
Drawing on O’Reilly’s conceptualization of Web 2.0
47
and the discussion of participatory
culture by Jenkins,
48
Hadas and Shifman argue that collective intelligence and collective action
possibilities enabled by the rise of digital technologies including the internet change the power
dynamics between fans and producers.
49
This shift of power in favor of fans is accompanied with
the opening up of fandom’s resources to larger groups, which leads Hadas and Shifman to question
the “elite status” Tulloch attaches to fans. The empowerment of fandom becomes visible in
different cases of fan activism with Hadas and Shifman’s example of Joss Whedon mobilizing
Buffy and Firefly fans to keep Dollhouse on air.
50
Considering the initial success of Behzat Ç. and
Leyla ile Mecnun fans in protecting their shows against cancellation despite low ratings, these
cases also provide evidence for changing power relations between fans, producers and broadcasters.
This change is due to the new opportunities for mobilization that the Internet offers.
Therefore, the concepts of collective intelligence and collective action appear within the
context of fan activity after digitalization, just as in the case of political participation.
Unsurprisingly, what the digital technologies give fans to empower them is the same as what these
technologies give citizens in terms of political participation. The ability to create and circulate
content online and the visibility these capabilities entail are critical for challenging mainstream
media discourses. In other words, there is an overlap between the empowerment of the fans and
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the public.
Therefore, with the increasing visibility of fan activism, the possible passage between fan
activism and political participation has received more attention in the literature. In that context,
drawing on Nicholas Abercrombie and Brian Longhurst’s comparison of “fans, cultists and
enthusiasts” with “voters, party volunteers and party representatives,”
51
Liesbet Van Zoonen
addresses the similarities between fans’ communities, activities and investments.
52
This similarity
is important not just for understanding fan behavior, but also for determining if that engagement
can be translated into the political realm. This is exactly what happens with Behzat Ç. and Leyla
ile Mecnun. Their fan activism evolves into political participation when their creative teams’
critiques of the AKP government threaten the survival of these two shows.
Nevertheless, this increasing “politicization” becomes the turning point for Behzat Ç. and
Leyla ile Mecnun fandoms. While Erdal Beşikçioğlu mentioned StarTV’s support for the show
during the earlier days in 2011,
53
TV critic Ali Eyüboğlu quoted the producers of the show and
said that the RTÜK fines made it impossible for Behzat Ç. to be picked by any channel in 2013.
54

The impact of this politicization between 2010 and 2013 especially becomes evident when
considered with TRT CEO İbrahim Şahin’s earlier support for Leyla ile Mecnun and the show’s
creator Burak Aksak’s later statement linking the cancellation with their support of the Gezi
Movement. While these audiences’ fans activism was tolerated, their anti-government political
participation was not welcome. Therefore, the changing political context made previously
desirable young, educated and internet-savvy audiences—associated with quality—no longer
desirable.

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“Acceptable” vs. “Non-acceptable”: Leyla ile Mecnun Fan Activism
Leyla ile Mecnun provides a strong example to map how the politicization of fan activism became
unacceptable as the political climate of Turkey changed between 2010 and 2013. At the same time,
it offers a chance to see how the strengthening of the Turkish television market made it hard for
shows like Leyla ile Mecnun to survive brutal competition in the domestic market.
The Turkish TV industry has expanded tremendously since the early 2000s, becoming one
of the biggest exporters of the region. These exports include more than seventy shows marketed
to over fifty countries, bringing in 150 million dollars.
55
TRT, the state channel Leyla ile Mecnun
appeared on, maintained its monopoly until 1990. Following the introduction of the first private
TV channel, many others joined the industry. The late 1990s and early 2000s witnessed an
increased demand for TV content with the increasing number of channels. The Turkish case reveals
a similar trend in terms of the global TV markets, as reality shows and contests started to be
adapted around the same time. Sit-com adaptations soon followed. The expanding industry focused
more on melodramas after the mid-2000s. Starting with the popularity of Gümüş, which was
released as Noor in Middle East, many Turkish melodramas were exported to the region. Around
the same time, older Turkish classics, both novels and films, became sources for adaptations,
which were also successfully exported. Furthermore, the Turkish adaptations of American shows
such as Desperate Housewives were marketed in the region instead of the original shows, which
were accepted as more risqué.
This flourishing of the industry transformed the conditions of production by diminishing
the chances of shows with smaller groups of viewers. Having experienced the mainstream success
of stronger shows, network executives were less willing to wait for shows to strengthen their fan
bases. The importance of ratings made it harder for new shows to survive. In this new configuration,
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the state channel/public broadcaster struggled to compete with private channels. With multiple
attempts to rebrand itself, TRT experimented with new TV series along with other programs to
regain some power. These attempts became successful to some extent, yet none of the TRT shows
performed as well as the popular melodramas of the private channels.
Leyla ile Mecnun was one of these new shows that struggled due to its lower ratings among
the more popular TV shows, yet the vocal group of fans managed to prove its popularity online.
This controversial show is an absurdist comedy based on a traditional Middle Eastern story which
tells the tragic tale of Layla and Majnun. Majnun falls in love with Layla and loses his mind once
her father refuses to give her hand in marriage. While he spends time in the desert writing poems
for Layla, she dies after becoming ill possibly because of the heartbreak. Their tragic tale, which
has inspired many poems and other works of art, is very well known in Turkey.
With a comedic twist, Leyla ile Mecnun tells a similar story
in which Mecnun tries to woo Leyla. The modern-day Leyla and
Mecnun are born in the same hospital and end up sharing the same
crib, inspiring their parents to name them after the star-crossed
lovers Leyla and Mecnun. When he is twenty-five, Mecnun decides
to find Leyla and marry her. Her father is not willing to let this
happen because Mecnun comes from a poor family. As Mecnun
tries to win Leyla’s love, the unusual characters from his
neighborhood get involved in the story. Ismail, the fool of the neighborhood who can nevertheless
be wiser than the others, Yavuz the thief, Aksakallı Dede, the mythical elder from Mecnun’s
dreams, along with Erdal Bakkal, the greedy shop owner, all find their ways into the story. Then,
the story of Leyla and Mecnun continues with the interventions of their families and friends.
Figure 4.3 Leyla ile Mecnun
promotional poster.
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Despite the low ratings, TRT was initially happy with the show’s success due to its online
presence and the viral effect. Like Behzat Ç.’s ability to survive despite its moderate ratings, Leyla
ile Mecnun’s survival was made possible by the broadcaster’s desire to establish a “quality” brand
targeting young viewers. İbrahim Şahin, the CEO of TRT, expressed that they were particularly
pleased with the show’s ability to attract younger viewers, who had long abandoned the state
channel.
††
The show’s online popularity functioned as an indicator of its younger following
according to Şahin.
56

The show premiered on TRT, the Turkish state channel, in 2011. It lasted for three seasons
with 103 episodes until its abrupt cancellation. Following the broadcast of the first episodes, a
devoted following formed around the show, but the ratings remained quite low compared to the
more popular shows. Nevertheless, the visibility of the show on social media was hard to ignore.
As the first season was wrapping up, TV critics like Ali Eyüboğlu

were surprised by the
discrepancy between ratings and social media visibility since almost each episode became a
trending topic on Twitter while the show barely made it among the top fifty programs of the night
for the AB category.
57
The show’s ratings were even lower in the general category of viewers, but
nevertheless the show came to win best TV show awards on digital platforms, which led Eyüboğlu
to state that the show did not deserve this title.
58
The fans of the show soon started to voice their
anger against the critic, and brought up the fact that Leyla ile Mecnun was among the top ten shows
on IMDB’s Highest Rated TV Series list. The fans’ attempts to mark the importance of the show
despite the ratings provides an example of struggle against the powerlessness inherent in Tulloch’s

††
Therefore, TRT supported the show during the scandal, which involved a physical fight between the
leading actress Ezgi Asaroğlu who portrayed Leyla and two other actors. After the departure of these
three actors, the show managed to use its absurdist nature by bringing two new female leads to replace
Leyla. After receiving the organs of Leyla, Şirin and Sedef joined the story as possible love interests for
Mecnun, who was devastated by Leyla’s death. As these two characters departed the series after the
second reason, the show introduced another Leyla played by Melis Birkan.
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model.
59
Here, via this IMDB ranking, digitalization provided an alternative indicator of “quality”
as fans tried to keep their favorite show on air.
Like Behzat Ç., Leyla ile Mecnun had a devoted fan following that was very visible online.
Nevertheless, despite the show’s popularity on social media, the importance of ratings remained a
valid concern for its future because the growth of the Turkish TV industry coincided with the rise
of shows with massive ratings. For example, compared to the widely popular Magnificent
Century’s share of over twenty-six percent in primetime, Leyla ile Mecnun could not manage to
go over five percent.
60
Behzat Ç. oscillated between six and twelve, but the show’s share was
between seven and eight for the most part.
61
The domestic popularity of Magnificent Century was
accompanied with larger regional success, which Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. also lacked.
Therefore, fans’ struggles to get the quality of the show acknowledged in order to secure its
survival was challenged by the prioritization of mass viewership due to the transformation of the
Turkish television market and its export capabilities. While fan activism managed to overcome
ratings pressure, the politicization of the creative teams was the tipping point for the ultimate
demise of the shows.
TRT CEO Şahin had brought up Leyla ile Mecnun in many different occasions in reference
to TRT’s rebranding strategies. The focus on rebranding is understandable once the political
atmosphere is considered. The previous unpopularity of the state channel was later coupled with
the speculations about the government’s influence on the channel. TRT faced challenges due to
the strong competition in the domestic market—where private channels and their mainstream
melodramas dominated. The public broadcaster could not escape criticism of bias either due to its
organic links with the state and the government. The third term of the AKP (Justice and
Development Party) government contributed to the rise of concerns about freedom of press and
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censorship as journalists opposing the party lost their jobs before the general elections in 2011 and
the number of journalists

in prison also increased. Both the Prime Minister and the members of
AKP openly criticized shows like Behzat Ç. and Magnificent Century.
62
The Supreme Council of
Radio and Television enforced stricter rules, such as banning the depiction of cigarette and
alcoholic drinks on screen. Profane language and sexual references led to big amounts of fines.
In other words, as AKP’s political power became consolidated between 2010-2013, the
government started to have more say on what appeared on television. Leyla ile Mecnun creator
Burak Aksak relied on the absurdist nature of the show to bypass and mock all the rules stemming
from this desire for control. When asked about his strategies to overcome censorship, Aksak
mentioned both the rules of the broadcaster—which reflect the rules of The Supreme Council of
Radio and Television—and his mother:
They don’t smoke in the show, but chew gum. Instead of alcoholic drinks, they fall in grapes
or figs. Although this is a love story, they just kissed once in space. But no one finds it
weird. How do you manage that?

The two of them not kissing wasn’t the result of self-censorship. Mecnun couldn’t kiss
Leyla for different reasons and would always ask “Can I kiss you once?” The reason why
they could kiss in space was two lovers giving each other their last breaths in a silly
situation.

As for alcohol, we had a problem with RTÜK (Supreme Council of Radio and Television).
That’s how the figs and grapes came up. The same thing with swear words. They once
censored “lan”.
‡‡
I couldn’t understand why it would be bleeped. We started to use “[big]
water bottle, shower curtain”. The cursing was my mom’s censorship. When she said “Can
Mecnun say 'Allah belani versin (God damn you)’ less?,” Iskender started to curse Erdal
saying “Hope you hit the table’s leg with your pinky toe.”
63

Aksak’s reference to self-censorship is noteworthy considering the context of the show’s
production. The period leading to the elections in 2011 included many debates about self-
censorship.
64

‡‡
“Lan” is almost an impossible word to translate. It is used to address people in slang.
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As the AKP government’s desire to control the mediascape increased, the absurdist nature
of the show allowed a coy resistance on the public broadcaster TRT. In other words, the show was
able to criticize the state on the state channel thanks to the absurdist elements.
In addition to other mildly political references such as a quick allusion to Prime Minister
Erdoğan’s words about Turkey giving a
loan to IMF (International Monetary
Fund), Leyla ile Mecnun brought self-
reflexivity and political criticism to
another level by mocking the TRT
(Turkish Radio and Television) taxes in
Episode 40. One of the main characters,
small-shop owner Erdal Bakkal, realizes his electricity fees include an amount for TRT—the
public broadcasting services. He decides to petition against it saying he does not watch TRT
channels. His journey takes him to the TRT building, where he—and the viewers—see familiar
faces from TRT programs. In the end, Erdal is referred to another office where he is faced with
many bureaucratic requirements. The state bureaucracy is visibly mocked and criticized
throughout the episode. However, as the political tension in the country escalated, such critiques
became no longer welcome on TRT.
Figure 4.4 “No chewing gum” sign behind Mecnun resembling “No
smoking” signs in Turkey.
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After the cast members appeared in a mock interview supporting the Gezi Movement, the
show was abruptly cancelled. Fans protesting the cancellation of the show argued that the cast and
crew’s open support of the Gezi protests was the reason behind that decision. Apart from the mock
interview, in which the cast members criticized the situation in character, the creative team and the
actors supported the protests on social media.
65
Furthermore, they were photographed participating
in the protests.
66
In August 2013, the show’s creator Burak Aksak openly confirmed that they
agreed with the fans on the cause of Leyla ile Mecnun’s cancellation: “Of course, the reason, we
think, is us going to Gezi.”
67
The cast member Ahmet Mümtaz Taylan similarly confirmed the
reason for the show’s cancellation as their support for the Gezi.
68

Figure 4.5 Screenshot of mock Leyla ile Mecnun cast interview released on YouTube.
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The Gezi protests began with a small number of young protestors camping at Gezi Park in
order to prevent the trees from being cut for the construction of a shopping mall. The ongoing
urban gentrification of Istanbul has been accompanied by concerns about the impact on the
environment. The police’s harsh attack on the protestors paved the way for a quick escalation and
the events first spread to all of Taksim Square when more people showed up against the police
brutality. Soon the events spread to other squares and other cities, yet the mainstream media did
not provide coverage of the events. Social media became the major source of information as well
as mobilization and youth were praised for circulating information on digital platforms that they
had been heavily using.
Figure 4.6 Promotional pictures with changing female leads in Leyla ile Mecnun: Ali Atay (Mecnun) with co-stars Ezgi Asaroğlu (Leyla),
Müge Boz (Şirin), Zeynep Çamcı (Sedef) and the second Leyla (Melis Birkan).
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The role of youth in the protests attracted attention because their participation defied the
stereotypical representations of post-1980s apolitical youth. Both the prevalent use of digital media
and the visibility of politics of humor were associated with the youth involvement.
§§
Following
the coup d’etat of the1980s, the political mobilization of young people became less visible. The
new constitution limited the possibilities of mobilization while the immense violence paved the
way to a culture of political abstinence in following generations as families tried to steer their
children away from political activism. The succeeding neo-liberal policies further contributed to a
new cultural climate. This transformation resulted in the widespread image of an “apolitical”
generation uninterested in political activism. The effects of the coup d’etat are still felt and the
constitution of 1980 remains effective. Although the effects of the 1980s persist, the apolitical
youth image of the post-coup era has been challenged by the participation of youth in the Gezi
protests. Furthermore, this new image has significant overlaps with the images of Turkish political
quality TV fans.
Despite the spread of the events beyond the younger groups of protestors, the prevalence
of the urban youth participation, which was followed by white collar professionals’ participation,
hinted at the class implications of the protests. In that context, while Cihan Tuğal argued that this
was not a working class movement, he connected the whitecollar participation to a lack of
fulfillment rather than the impacts of exploitation.
69
He also stated that participation provided these
protestors with social capital.
70

However, it is essential to realize that these white collar professionals also belong to the
lower level of the bourgeois class, since they work for the owners of the means of production rather

§§
For a more extensive discussion on the politics of humor and the Gezi protests, see Alemdaroğlu,
“From Cynicism to Protest”; Dağtaş, “The Politics of Humor and Humor as Politics during Turkey’s Gezi
Park Protests.”

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than owning the means of production. In a way reminiscent of Tuğal’s arguments, referring to
KONDA’s research, Kirisci underlined the middle class composition of the protestors while
focusing on the younger participants:
[...] it should also be said that these youth represent neither the majority of contemporary
Turkish youth nor the Turkish population at large. As shown in the Konda poll, the
protesting youth display a much higher level of education than the public in general; most
of them are also the children of older Turks who received more education than their
contemporaries.
71

Unlike Tuğal, he argued that this elite group of younger people managed to mobilize a larger group
although the events mostly calmed down after the summer:
Nevertheless, if the large crowds that they have attracted to Gezi are any indication, these
youth have succeeded in earning the respect of a large segment of Turkish society. Their
occupation of Gezi Park has been given support by a large number of citizens; during the
first two weeks, their site was visited by thousands, ranging from high school students to
the middle aged.
72

These scholars’ descriptions of the Gezi protestors are surprisingly similar to the TRT CEO
İbrahim Şahin’s description of Leyla ile Mecnun fans.
73
The same cultural capital used to challenge

the ratings system when Leyla ile Mecnun’s worth was debated was used against the oppressive
government in the Gezi protests. The mild political criticism—such as the episode where Recep
Figure 4.7 The Leyla and Mecnun cast and creative team, with medical masks against the tear gas, during the
Gezi Protests. Retrieved from: http://www.radikal.com.tr/hayat/leyla-ile-mecnun-gezi-kurbani-mi-1144559
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Tayyip Erdoğan’s claim that the country was giving loans to IMF instead of getting them was
lightly made fun of, or the one where the Minister of Interior İdris Naim Şahin tells a greeter to
take a tumble to show how happy they are to see the Minister—in Leyla ile Mecnun also gives
clues about this possible overlap. Therefore, neither the participation of the creative team of Leyla
ile Mecnun in the protests nor the fan support for the creative team is surprising. Aided by
education and technology, the younger group had access to globally circulated content and
information. While they challenged the status quo—whether it was embodied by the ratings-based
system of content production or by the oppressive state apparatuses —they defined their own forms
of participation without being confined to the institutionalized sphere of politics or the public
sphere.
Although Leyla ile Mecnun fans’ petition
74
to overturn cancellation did not achieve its goal,
the issue was publicized enough to find its way into parliament. Once the same creative team
started to work on a new project with the same cast, they were able to incorporate a way to share
the writer Burak Aksak’s intended ending for the show. In an unconventional way, the intended
ending

was revealed by having Aksak as a guest star in the new series and making him tell how
the story was supposed to end as the montage of his story played.
75

The creators’ efforts to provide a proper wrap-up for the fans can be understood in relation
to the increasing visibility of fan practices and how this visibility contributes to the agency of fans
Figure 4.8 Aksak on Ben de Özledim (2013) sharing the intended ending for Leyla ile Mecnun.
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within the networks of entertainment markets. This ability to provide closure despite the show’s
cancellation reveals that fans might not be as “powerless” as Tulloch says they are. However, the
repression of the Gezi Movement and the cancellation of the show signaled a turning point which
made it clear that political fan activism was not welcome in “new” Turkey. This moment also
indicated the end of a brief period of politicization for Turkish television shows.

Politics, Turkish Television and Turkish Political Quality
The increasing youth political activism mentioned above coincided with the introduction of more
mainstream coverage about the events of the coup d’etats in 1960, 1971 and 1980 in the last decade.
The new generation started to show more interest in Turkish political history as TV series and
films about the past events started to rise to prominence. With that exposure, the symbols of past
struggles became available for utilization in a new struggle against the system.
Mainstream media coverage of the past struggles, mostly in romanticized stories such as
Çemberimde Gül Oya (2004-2005) and Hatırla Sevgili (2006-2008), went hand in hand with the
European Union accession process. The reforms aiming at demilitarization and the protection of
human rights created a suitable situation for revisiting of the history. More people were exposed
to the Marxist-Leninist student movement tradition and its icons such as Deniz Gezmiş and Mahir
Çayan. The romanticization of these figures was further enabled by the AKP’s stance against the
army. While condemning the coup d’etats, Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan drew parallels
between the army’s oppression of the political Islamists and the leftists like Deniz Gezmiş, who
was executed by hanging with Hüseyin Aslan and Yusuf İnan for attempting to overthrow the
Constitutional order. In that context, political history, which was previously confined to an area of
cinematic representation rather than a televisual one, found a more mainstream space on television.
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Kumru Berfin Emre Cetin provides an informative overview of this politicization. While
discussing the politicization of Turkish television dramas, Kumru Berfin Emre Cetin builds upon
her previous work and identifies four trends: “(1) dealing with contemporary political issues, (2)
settling accounts with the past, (3) neo-Ottomanism, and (4) piety and the Islamic worldview”.
76

Emre Cetin elaborates further on this politicization with reference to the transformation of Turkish
political context:
Dialectically, the politicization of dramas has allowed alternative voices to flourish in a
variety of productions that brought social issues to the agenda. Dramas such as My Heart
Won’t Forget You, Behzat Ç. (2010–2013), and Lost City (Kayip Sehir, 2012–2013)
suggested critical understandings of various social issues including military coups, the
murder of women, crime, and migration, while giving voice to underrepresented,
marginalized groups. On the other hand, the decreasing audience interest in dramas such
as I Loved Him So Much, which are characterized by preaching protagonists with long
political manifestos, indicate that explicit politicization may be unpopular and, hence, not
long-lasting. Nevertheless, it is difficult to consider the politicizing process of television
dramas in a positive way that has contributed to the making of a multivocal television
culture. Instead, the intervention of politicians and public institutions, as well as reactive
audience responses, indicates the shrinking borders of press freedom that encroach on the
television entertainment market, particularly with regard to dramas in the Turkish context.
77

Emre Cetin’s foresight is proven right considering the fates of Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun.
However, the difficulty these shows faced as soon as they engaged with contemporary politics and
not the nostalgic politico-historical exploration of the past helps explain why quality TV claims a
more “political” nature in the Turkish case. When censorship and control pushes the critiques of
the AKP government out of the mainstream media sphere, these shows’ political criticism grants
them a “quality” which sets them apart from mainstream Turkish television shows. This political
quality is achieved through the narrative, aesthetic and generic characteristics associated with
Anglo-American quality television, complex television and cult television.
As I briefly mentioned in my introduction, Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun’s claim to
quality is demonstrated by a desire on the part of fans and creative teams to distinguish themselves
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from mainstream television. The activism of these two shows’ fans provides the first step in that
direction. Alongside this claim to quality by distinguishing themselves from other shows via
activism, the two shows also reveal narrative, aesthetic and generic similarities with Anglo-
American quality programming. Such characteristics, as well as the increased engagement of fans,
are also associated with cult television and complex television in the literature. Drawing on Hills’
work on cult television and Mittell’s work on complex television,
78
I share both writers’ emphasis
on the fact that cult TV and complex TV are not de facto examples of quality programming.
Nevertheless, both Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun rely heavily on intertextuality and self-
reflexivity, which are overlapping indicators of cult, complex and Anglo-American quality
programming—in addition to increased fan engagement—as revealed by the literature. Therefore,
it is not surprising that puhutv—the Turkish online streaming platform that currently owns both
shows’ streaming rights in Turkey—categorized them as “cult.” This is not only an example of the
overlap between cult, complex and quality categories. This specific use also helps reveal how, due
to the lack of a profound quality programming definition or category in Turkey, “cult”—a more
global cinematic category—becomes a substitute to describe quality in the Turkish context.
Therefore, in my survey to explain the similarities and differences between Anglo-
American quality and Turkish political quality, the narrative, generic and aesthetic characteristics
associated with cult, complex and Anglo-American quality programming become relevant for
understanding how fans as audiences transform into fans as publics in the Turkish case.
Intertextuality and self-reflexivity help explain the transformation of initial fan engagement into
full-fledged political activism. Nevertheless, the strong political purpose of the Turkish quality
marks its difference from Anglo-American examples and makes it an alternative.
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Making an Alternative Public with Behzat Ç.:
Brechtian Goals, Intertextuality and Cultural Specificity
In 2012, during an interview with PRI (Public Radio International) the executive producer of
Behzat Ç., Tarkan Karlıdağ, said that they were aiming at reaching an audience that does not read
newspapers.
79
The show not only provided access to information that was becoming less and less
available via mainstream media in the midst of AKP’s consolidation of power; it also approached
the political issues differently by giving a voice to marginalized groups. In this way, the show
questioned the authority of the state and the government through its stories with the help of
intertextual references, which result in an overall challenging of the dominant discourses. This
desire to challenge the mainstream discourse becomes more meaningful when Emrah Serbes’
emphasis on a political alternative beyond the AKP government and main opposition party CHP
(Republican People’s Party) is considered. Like Karlıdağ’s words, Serbes’ comments reveal the
intentionality of political intertextuality in the show.
Despite the presentation of the series as a detective story, it includes powerful political
references. Unlike other popular Turkish TV series, Behzat Ç. takes place in Ankara, the capital of
Turkey, which provides a closer look at the state and the bureaucracy. The first episode introduces
us to the main characters in Behzat’s life. His brother Şevket is quite comfortable with the
bureaucracy in the capital unlike Behzat. He is the manager of a big shopping mall and is well
acquainted with high-ranking bureaucrats. Behzat had initially tried to follow in their father’s
footsteps and have a military career, yet he became a police officer after being thrown out of the
military academy. His main team consists of Harun, a goofy younger cop; Hayalet (Ghost) who is
well known for tracing suspects and witnesses without being recognized, and Akbaba (Vulture)
who knows about corpses at least as much as a coroner. All three have working class backgrounds.
The department also includes Selim, who leaves the department after the first season and Eda, the
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only female member in the department, who is mostly left in the office rather than being taken to
out to pursue cases. Selim is a newcomer, whose upper middle class background causes the others
to call him a snob. A young agricultural engineer, Cevdet, later joins the team when he applies to
become a police officer after trying and failing to find an engineering job.
In the first episode, Behzat tries to uncover the apparent suicide of a young girl only to be
pressured to close the case despite the prosecutor Esra’s support. This is the first glimpse that the
series provides into the corruption in Ankara’s bureaucracy. The episode ends with Behzat’s
daughter falling down from the same rooftop that the girl in the case fell from, despite the fact that
she and Behzat were mending their relationship. His daughter’s death leads to Behzat mental
breakdown and he is hospitalized, where we witness him meeting two other important characters:
Bahar, his leftist former love who had left Behzat when he decided to join the police, and Şule, a
young girl who later moves in with him. The show mixes the intricacies of Behzat’s life with
contemporary political critique.
The show’s creative team was not hesitant to share this political element openly as revealed
by the executive producer Tarkan Karlıdağ and the novelist Emrah Serbes—the original creator of
the character—in the words mentioned above. This political element also reveals the intertextual
potential of the show. In 2012, Ercan Mehmet Erdem, the screenwriter for the show, explained the
four axes he worked with while developing the story: 1) The Deep State; 2) third page murders; 3)
the season serial killer; and 4) political stories.
80
While the weekly murders and the relationships
between the characters serve dramatic seriality, some episodes focus on overtly political topics. As
the series progressed, more political critique was incorporated in the main story arc, which
revolved around Behzat and his arch-nemesis Ercüment Çözer, a sadistic killer with lots of money
and friends in the higher echelons of the state. This character paved the way for criticism of the
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relationships between the mafia, army, police and the state. These illegal relationships are
summarized by the term “Derin Devlet” (Deep State) in Turkish. Despite the existence of rumors
before, when a car carrying Abdullah Çatlı, the wanted mafia leader, Hüseyin Kocadağ, the
headmaster of a police school and Sedat Bucak, a member of the parliament had an accident near
Susurluk in 1996, the debates around Derin Devlet became more public. The protection of
Ercüment Çözer by state officials depicts a similar web of relations in the series.
The show’s intertextuality is further enhanced by individual cases and shorter storylines
addressing many other political issues. During the earlier episodes, Bahar and her activist friends
are exposed to police violence during protests. A murder of a professor whose work on minorities
had caused him being tried for 301,
81
closely resembled the assassination of Armenian journalist
Hrant Dink. There is still an on-going investigation about the police’s negligence and involvement
in the murder of Hrant Dink. Similarly, in the series, Behzat witnesses the protection of the suspect
by the other cops. Another episode focused on the issue of urban gentrification, which had been
troubling the slums of the bigger cities in Turkey. Police violence against transsexuals is shown in
one of the episodes. Cumartesi Anneleri, which is a collective seeking justice for those who went
missing under the police custody, are recurrently mentioned. Behzat personally finds the bones of
a man tortured and murdered under police custody, giving peace to the Kurdish-speaking mother
of the victim. The series includes Kurdish dialogue when necessary, which is a rare choice for
mainstream Turkish TV series. Therefore, the show brings many issues that usually occupy
minimal space in mainstream media onto mainstream television.
These examples can be expanded. For example, in the eighth episode, the story of the arrest
of an academic in relation to the KCK (Koma Ciwaken Kurdistan – Kurdistan Communities Union)
case, which targets Kurdish opposition, was included on the show with the real-life name of the
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professor; “Büşra” was simply changed to “Kübra” in the story. A long story arc in the second
season was devoted to the increasing rate of violent crimes against women. The same season ended
with a critique of the judicial system as the Prosecutor Esra was incriminated with false evidence
following her insistence on uncovering the shady deals behind a government contract. The
handling of the case reminded many people of the Ergenekon case, which dealt with the claims of
conspiracy to overthrow the government. The trials against the alleged secret organization with
ties to the military also targeted many politicians and journalists, who were vocal critics of the
AKP government and its leader Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.
***
The Ergenekon trials were marred with
violations of due process and problematic evidence as they continued.
82
In 2015, President
Erdoğan himself indirectly admitted to these issues when he said that he was deceived by the Gülen
Movement, which misdirected the justice system.
83

Since the similarity between the real-life version of these cases and Esra’s storyline was
hard to miss, one specific conversation between Behzat and his prosecutor wife Esra instantly
became viral on social media after the episode aired on July 10
th
, 2012.
In this episode, Behzat comes home to find the police searching their house in relation to a
case against Esra. Behzat enters Esra’s study at home and finds her trying to tidy the room after
the police made a mess during the search. She is visibly upset and angry as she continues to pick
up her books from the floor. Right behind Esra, viewers can see thick blue volumes titled “Hukuk

***
The AKP government later blamed the Gülen Movement for tempering with evidence and obstructing
justice during the trials. Having initially backed the judged and district attorneys handling Ergenekon,
Erdoğan changed his stance after his alliance with the Gülen Movement was broken followıng the
Corruption Scandal of 2013.

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Davalarında Görev ve Yetki Hukuku Sorunu” (Authorization and Task Problems in Legal Cases).
Upon Esra’s insistence of continuing her legal quest against the corrupted, despite Behzat’s pleas
to her to drop it, Behzat shouts at her, saying that “Law as you know it is over!” (Episode 68).
Within the context of the politically charged cases of Ergenekon and KCK, this conversation is a
bold critique against the government, who openly defended the police, prosecutors and judges
against the allegation of bias and political persecution.
As explained by Aydin-Duzgit and Keyman, both cases showed that “the existing
legislative provisions [were] being used to violate the right to free speech when the government’s
Figure 4.9 Screenshot series from Behzat Ç. Behzat arrives after the police finish the search and finds Esra trying to pick up
her law books from the floor.
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authority and/or its Kurdish policy [were] being challenged.”
84
The Ergenekon case, which was
named after the alleged secularist ultra-nationalist organization working to overthrow the AKP
government, and the KCK case named after the Kurdish political organization similarly targeted
many journalists raising criticism on freedom of speech.
85

Intertextuality in this case allowed viewers to understand the overlap between real life and
fiction. In this way, Behzat Ç. could say things unspeakable in news programs. Unsurprisingly,
supporters of the government criticized this scene, whereas critics of the government cherished it.
This contemporary culturally specific and politically relevant reference contributed to the
spreadability of the show.
Apart from referring to current political issues, by utilizing current controversies including
the ones around the show itself, the creators end up increasing spreadability as proven by many
Behzat Ç. clips becoming viral. The political references and the complex storylines also enhance
the drillability of the content. Drillability, introduced by Mittell with reference to Jenkins’s
discussion of spreadability
86
and echoed by Mittell’s later work on complexity, alludes to the
material’s capacity of encouraging further engagement. Mittell explains that capacity as follows:
They encourage a mode of forensic fandom that encourages viewers to dig deeper, probing
beneath the surface to understand the complexity of a story and its telling. Such programs
create magnets for engagement, drawing viewers into the storyworlds and urging them to
drill down to discover more.
87

Therefore, the political critique in the show increased both spreadability and drillability. People
talk more about the show and the political issues it brought up. As mentioned above, social media
and the internet were flooded with references to the show following such references. However,
this was not merely about the circulation, but also about deliberation, since online forums such as
ekşisözlük showed how fans discuss political issues as well the mysteries unfolding in the storyline.
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The show’s use of intertextuality and self-reflexivity allows Behzat Ç. to “spread” and
make it “complex” or “drillable” enough to generate engagement are two characteristics also
shared by Leyla ile Mecnun. The links between intertextuality and fan engagement have been
surveyed in the literature before. Matt Hills’ work on cult television and Jason Mittell’s work on
complex television mention intertextuality as a factor for increased fan engagement.
88
Logan’s
inclusion of controversial storylines, self-reflexivity and complex narratives as elements of quality
television similarly hints at the connection between intertextuality and quality programming.
89

While Hills and Mittell similarly emphasize that cult TV and complex TV are not de facto
examples of quality programming, both Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun rely heavily on
intertextuality and self-reflexivity, which are overlapping indicators of cult, complex and Anglo-
American quality programming as revealed by the literature.
What makes Behzat Ç.’s use of intertextuality—like Leyla ile Mecnun’s use demonstrated
by the mock interview supporting the Gezi movement, which I will discuss later—different than
cult TV and complex TV’s intertextuality is the Turkish version’s political motivation to challenge
the mainstream public discourse and encourage political participation. Because of this political
motivation, I describe Turkish political quality as Brechtian. This Brechtian quality is further
depicted by Behzat Ç.’s and Leyla ile Mecnun’s narrative and aesthetic self-reflexivity.

Self-Reflexivity and Brechtian Aesthetics in Turkish Political Quality
While narrative self-reflexivity revolves around both shows’ references to themselves, aesthetic
self-reflexivity is demonstrated by Behzat Ç.’s and Leyla ile Mecnun’s use of Brechtian alienation.
Although the compatibility of Brechtian strategies with television has been contested in the
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literature
†††
, Brecht’s desire to incite viewers to question the power structures around them made
its impact on the medium’s storytelling. For example, Billy Smart quotes John Caughie and
Stephen Lacey to elaborate further on Brecht’s influence on television. Smart’s discussion of
Caughie’s work is instrumental in mapping Brecht’s infiltration into the public broadcasting
system:
Caughie sees this process of mental agility needed to construct meanings and resonances
from television drama as fulfilling an important role of the public service remit of British
broadcasting, encouraging the viewer to act as Brecht’s questioning ‘active spectator.’
90

Like Brecht’s intended audience, Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun fans are expected to be “active
spectators” who understand the intertextual references and think about them in the context of
power relations. Alongside the intertextuality used for this purpose, self-reflexivity in Behzat Ç.’s
and Leyla ile Mecnun is similarly used for bringing audiences into an awareness by prompting
them to “question” power structures around them.
Therefore, while responding to the current critiques of Behzat Ç. via stories depicted, the
creators of the show end up mixing self-reflexivity and intertextuality. For example, when the PM
Bülent Belen criticized the show, in the bill of complaint mentioned above, for “putting a dynamite
at the foundations of the institution of family” with the extramarital relationship between Esra and
Behzat, the show made a reference within. Harun, who finds out that a victim and his girlfriend
were living together, used the same expression to define the situation only to be scolded by Behzat.
While this moment of humorous self-reflexivity plays a crucial role in taking the viewer out of the
state of immersion, the show employs Behzat’s moments of insanity for a stronger Brechtian
alienation effect. Despite the difference of genre, John Caldwell’s discussion of Pee-Wee’s

†††
For such examples, see: Smart, “The Life of Galileo and Brechtian Television Drama”; Silberman,
“Politics of Representation: Brecht and the Media”; Müller, “From Public to Private,” 41-55.

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Playhouse is useful to survey the Brechtian effect in Behzat Ç.
91
Referring to Peter Wollen’s work
on Goddard and Brecht,
92
Caldwell surveys Brechtian elements with reference to televisuality.
In his analysis of the show, Caldwell identifies intransivity, estrangement, foregrounding,
multiple diegesis, aperture (or lack of closure), displeasure as well as “ruptures and manipulations
of reality” as Brechtian elements in the show.
93
Caldwell mentions “direct addresses,” “ironic
facial expressions,” and “ironic gazes and reactions” as examples of such ruptures and
manipulations. He also argues that when these strategies work at the expense of a third party being
criticized, they contribute to the viewers’ bonding with the show: “Ruptures of reality like these,
then, are less counteractive and disruptive than they are tactics intended to seal an alliance with
the viewer-consumer.”
94

Similar examples can be observed in Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun when moments of
intertextuality work with self-reflexivity. In addition to Harun’s reference to Bülent Belen’s words
mentioned above, Leyla ile Mecnun Episode 73 includes a conversation between Erdal Bakkal and
Dostoyevsky. As Dostoyevsky tells Erdal his pitch for a TV show, which resembles the Leyla ile
Figure 4.10 Dostoyevsky spoke in Turkish but the show included Russian subtitles in a tongue-in-cheek manner
(Screenshot from Leyla ile Mecnun.)
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Mecnun story too much, Erdal discourages him, saying that no one would watch it. This is a clear
allusion to Leyla ile Mecnun’s low ratings. This moment of self-reflexivity is furthered by Erdal’s
tongue-in cheek comments about the difficulty of being a screenwriter. Once again, the viewers
face a moment of rupture, which reminds them that this is a TV show.
However, there are also more serious examples when these ruptures signal the heightening
of tension. Behzat Ç. provides some of the boldest uses of these techniques on Turkish television.
For example, having suffered rounds of mental breakdown, Behzat shifts between moments of
sanity and insanity. Hallucinations of his dead daughter’s childhood haunt him throughout the first
season as well as the beginnings of the second season. During his second stay in a mental institution,
he also starts to hallucinate insects. These serve as ruptures and manipulations of reality as
Caldwell calls them.
95

The highest point of ruptures come when Behzat’s personality split leads to conversations
between multiple selves. Prior to the last season premiere, the audience saw five Behzats talking
to each other two times. The first occasion was when Behzat tries to evaluate his dead friend’s role
in helping Behzat’s arch-nemesis, Ercüment. The scene questions the notions of loyalty as Behzat
debates with himself whether he can forgive his friend, Tekin. At the same time, multiple selves
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discuss whether Behzat could betray his job and his friends if his daughter was threatened. The
longer version of the conversation, which is released as a webisode on the show’s application
hosted by the sponsor, surveys the issues of honesty and loyalty with reference to religion and god.
The second conversation among the selves is observed prior to Behzat’s wedding to Prosecutor
Esra as multiple selves debate whether to marry or not. The last appearance of the multiple selves
is the most impressive and the longest one. At the end of the third season premiere (Episode 70)
the audience realizes that everything done by Behzat during the episode actually showed different
possible courses that he could pursue after his wife’s death. One of the selves has totally retreated
to his inner world. He sees insects everywhere. One of them has become a drug addict. One of
them is suicidal and the other one has become a killer. When the selves come together, they discuss
Figure 4.11 Split personalities of Behzat represented all together in Behzat Ç.
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the death of Behzat’s wife and what to do next. After sending them all away, Behzat tries to decide
about his future actions. Before he chooses not to do any of the things the other four do by deciding
not to kill his wife’s alleged murderer at the last minute, we see that the unbalanced Behzat is being
institutionalized, the addict one overdosing, the suicidal one killing himself and the killer Behzat
being caught by the police. At the end, Behzat chooses to pursue his wife’s killers through the
Figure 4.12 The real Behzat leaves the others and enters his home in Behzat Ç.
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justice system rather than killing them for revenge.
Behzat’s loss of touch with reality originates from his personal tragedies. His first mental
breakdown comes after his daughter’s alleged suicide. The second one follows when he finds out
that his illegitimate daughter is responsible for his daughter’s death. The last one is after the
assassination of his wife, Esra. However, even when instigated by pain and trauma, Behzat’s
moments of insanity provide the viewers with a chance to observe his inner dilemmas that usually
revolve around the notion of justice. The multiple perspectives and arguments presented by Behzat
reflect the multiplicity of perspectives on justice as well as law, democracy, politics, religion,
morality and ethics. This multiplicity becomes a tool for giving a visibility to all present discourses
on screen. By depicting the other sides’ views as well as the alternative they present, the creators
contribute to the construction of a new public sphere. Therefore, it is not surprising that this strong
moment of break down (and personality split) comes right after Behzat’s wife becomes a victim
to a political conspiracy.
From that perspective, Behzat’s mind represents both the collective conscience and the
collective consciousness of the public, which is encouraged to be informed about the political
issues. By challenging the mainstream political discourses and the main axis of political discussion,
the show tries to expand the public to include marginalized groups. Participation is encouraged by
increasing the visibility of alternative discourses. These elements of alienation might be the
Brechtian link for bridging fan activism with direct political participation and civic engagement.
Through the utilization of the detective/cop genre, these elements contribute to the spreadability
and drillability of the content via the mysteries and socio-political critique involved. Alongside
moments of self-reflexivity, the use of intertextuality contributes to the potential spreadability and
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drillability of content. Both the cases of Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun also depict how these
elements can be prioritized over the overall production value.

Globalizing Intertextuality and Mocking the Pop-Culture/Mainstream Culture
As the screenshots above reveal, the production value of these two shows is lower when compared
both to mainstream Turkish melodramas and Anglo-American examples of quality programming.
In other words, substance is prioritized over production. Possibly because of these shows’
relatively low ratings compared to the mainstream Turkish melodramas, the budget suffers and
impacts the allowed production costs—another element marking Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun’s
difference from other shows. The shows’ creators are also aware of this difference.
Therefore, further building on intertextuality and self-reflexivity, both Behzat Ç. and Leyla
ile Mecnun make humorous references to other pop culture texts both from Turkey and abroad.
For example, in an earlier episode, when asked who they are, Harun calmly replies “CSI Dikmen”
referring to a neighborhood in Ankara. In another incident, he says he and Behzat are “CSI Miami.”
By combining the name of the globally famous CSI franchise
96
with the name of an Ankara
neighborhood, the writers give clues about their target audiences. Like Caldwell suggests, this
reference helps “seal an alliance with the viewer-consumer.”
97
The intended audiences are Turkish
pop-cosmopolitans , who are both familiar with the products of global pop culture and culturally
specific intertextual references within the Turkish context.
The absurdist nature of Leyla ile Mecnun similarly provides a unique opportunity to
incorporate many mocking references to global pop culture as well as Turkish pop culture. This,
along with both shows’ use of intertextuality and self-reflexivity for political purposes and the
activism of their fans, becomes a fundamental element of Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun’s claim
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to “quality.” While the increasing political oppression makes brave political connotations and
activism exceptional for the circumstances, the mocking of Turkish mainstream cultural products
functions as an attempt to separate these shows from the others. At the same time, references to
global pop culture mark the shared cultural knowledge as a status of the fans and the creative team.
These references—as well as references to the fans’ devoted activism— also contributed to
media coverage about the shows, which strengthened the shows’ “quality” brand by emphasizing
their difference from mainstream shows. This difference relates to what Robert Thompson said
about this vague category, “quality TV is best defined by what it is not. It is not ‘regular’ TV .”
98

This is how Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun lay their claim to quality. The devotion of their small
fan followings, the political and cultural relevance of their content as well as the political critique
incorporated in both shows set them apart from mainstream shows on Turkish television.
As it became harder to challenge the AKP government in news media, the political and
activist elements came to the foreground as indicators of quality for TV shows between 2010-2013.
Alongside the political critique, since Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun’s ratings could not match
shows like Muhteşem Yüzyıll (Magnificent Century) and Arka Sokaklar (The Backstreets), making
fun of the culture industry—which was producing popular shows—became a way to challenge an
understanding of quality and success based on ratings.
While Behzat Ç. devoted one episode (Season 3 Episode 18) to criticizing the working
conditions of the television sector, thanks to its absurdist nature, Leyla ile Mecnun made more
frequent references to Turkish television. In addition to Episode 72 (Season 3 Episode 11), which
re-enacted popular shows like Muhtesem Yuzyil with Leyla ile Mecnun cast, other new and older
shows like Arka Sokaklar, Cennet Mahallesi and Doktorlar (Doctors)—the Turkish format
adaptation of Grey’ s Anatomy—were mocked on different occasions. All these incidents placed
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Mecnun or other cast members in circumstances where they encounter characters who are visibly
similar to the characters of the shows mentioned above. These tongue-in-cheek references are not
unique to dramas or comedies. Reality show and commercial references appear in Leyla ile
Mecnun in a similar way, which mocks the mainstream cultural elements as well as the
culture/media industries producing them. These references not only signal or expect an awareness
from “active audiences” in the Brechtian sense, but they also aim to underline Leyla ile Mecnun’s
difference from this mode of cultural production. In other words, the show distinguishes itself from
the distraction associated with television by emphasizing they are not that kind of television.
These culturally specific intertextual and self-reflexive commentaries on Turkish popular
culture also set Leyla ile Mecnun—as well as Behzat Ç.—apart from shows like Masum and Fi,
which mimic the Anglo-American quality programming standards to brand themselves as quality
programming. As I explained in Chapter 2, shows such as Masum and Fi have less cultural bearings
and this grants them a more global mobility. However, culturally specific knowledge is needed to
appreciate Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç.
Nevertheless, as shown by Harun’s recurring references to the CSI franchise in Behzat Ç.,
access to global pop culture is also essential to appreciate this second level of intertextuality. Once
again, the absurdist Leyla ile Mecnun carries this second level of intertextuality to a higher point.
More global references like Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill or references to globally famous figures
like Che Guevara and Dostoyevsky appear throughout the show as the leading characters encounter
them during their fantastic adventures.
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In all these cases, the aesthetic replication of these global images works for two things at
once. First, like Caldwell argues with reference to Brechtian strategies in Pee-Wee’ s Playhouse,
these intertextual references reinforce the bonding between the creative team and the viewers;
hence, establishing an alliance based on shared knowledge. This alliance is also crucial for the
transformation of fans from audiences into publics since the creators use the same alliance to share
political critique—with the hope of action for change on part of the audiences. Secondly, again in
a Brechtian sense, these images contribute to the self-reflexivity of the show as well as the breaking
of the fourth wall not just for the show but also the culture/media industries in Turkey and in the
world. In other words, this moment of alienation/distanciation show the constructed nature of
Figure 4.15 “Kirecburnu Cakallari” re-enacting Reservoir Dogs in Leyla ile Mecnun.
Figure 4.14 Che as seen in Leyla ile Mecnun. Figure 4.13 Kill Bill homage in Leyla ile Mecnun.
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televisual and cinematic reality. This awareness of “construction” or “stitching” serves the
Brechtian purpose of making power implications visible. Like the alliance between the creative
team and the fans, the alienation and awareness attached to it are crucial in terms of fans becoming
“active spectators” and “publics.” This transformation becomes a crucial factor for defining what
Turkish political quality is. Nevertheless, the same transformation is the reason why shows like
Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. could not survive the increasing political tension in Turkey.
Although the fans’ final attempts to prevent their cancellation failed to become successful, the
hope for revivals remained strong. Due to freedoms associated with the Internet, online streaming
platforms appeared as likely saviors.
Conclusion
Despite fans’ petitions asking Netflix to pick up the cancelled Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç.
following Netflix’s decision to enter the market, the Turkish streaming rights were bought by
Figure 4.16 Fans’ petitions for Netflix to pick up Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç.
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puhutv. Like in the United States, online streaming is seen as a place of refuge for “quality
programming.”
‡‡‡

While Netflix added Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. to its catalogue in the United States,
puhutv—the new Turkish online streaming platform—added the shows to its catalogue for
streaming in Turkey. puhutv categorized both under “Cult Shows,” which is another indicator of
the two shows’ quality associations. While as of April 2018 there are other shows in this category
on puhutv, such as Kardeş Payı, Medcezir, İşler Güçler, 46, Acayip Hikayeler, Ben de Özledim,
and Şubat, none of them use intertextuality and self-reflexivity for political purposes to the extent
that Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. did. When Leyla ile Mecnun director Onur Ünlü’s later show
Beş Kardeş (Five Brothers) attempted to incorporate political critique in a stronger manner, it also
faced cancellation after its thirteenth episode.
99
Despite fans’ online reaction, the cancellation did
not generate an activism that could be compared to the cases of Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç.
Considering the political consolidation of AKP power, it is not surprising that Turkish political
quality is no longer welcome on mainstream television. As Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. fans’
requests reveal, they still hope to have new episodes online. However, this will be a tough goal to
achieve.
Following the events of June 15
th
, 2016, Emrah Serbes—the writer of the Behzat Ç.
novels—announced that he is working on a sequel, Behzat Ç.: İmamların Öcü, focusing on the
power struggles around the alleged attempted coup d’etat event.
100
Having previously criticized
the Gülen Movement associated with the coup d’etat attempt during the initial run of the show,
Serbes said that doing that required bravery back then since the AKP government was close to the

‡‡‡
I elaborate more on the connection between online streaming and quality programming in Chapter 2.
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Gülen Movement.
101
With Emrah Serbes subsequently in jail for manslaughter after a car accident,
the plans seem to be off the table.
102

With the move towards an Anglo-American understanding of quality on Turkish online
platforms as revealed by the examples of Masum and Fi, and the brutal domestic competition of
Turkish television leaving no room for smaller shows with lower ratings and devoted fan
followings like Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç., another attempt seems less likely. Alongside these
industrial conditions, the AKP’s determination to suppress political critiques against their power,
political quality television—with its anti-government sentiment—is a harder goal to achieve.
Nevertheless, fans at least have access to these shows’ existing episodes thanks to puhutv.
Only time will tell if Turkish political quality will be back on mainstream Turkish television
with new examples or if it will remain as an exceptional case that happened during the complex
political context between 2010 and 2013 in Turkish history. For now, as demonstrated by the cases
of Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç., with its utilization of intertextuality and self-reflexivity for
political purposes while encouraging the transformation of fan activism into political participation,
Turkish political quality remains as a nostalgic memory.
Table of Figures—Chapter 3
Figure 4.1 Behzat Ç. Public Screening. Retrieved from:
http://www.milliyet.com.tr/behzat-c-ye-sahip-cik-eylemi-magazin-1546025/ .......................... 148!
Figure 4.2 Harun (Fatih Arıtman) and his soon-to-be fiancee Meliha (Derya Uçar) in
Behzat Ç. ..................................................................................................................................... 149!
Figure 4.3 Leyla ile Mecnun promotional poster. ....................................................................... 157!
Figure 4.4 “No chewing gum” sign behind Mecnun resembling “No smoking” signs
in Turkey. .................................................................................................................................... 161!
Figure 4.5 Screenshot of mock Leyla ile Mecnun cast interview released on YouTube. .......... 162!
Figure 4.6 Promotional pictures with changing female leads in Leyla ile Mecnun: Ali Atay
(Mecnun) with co-stars Ezgi Asaroglu (Leyla), Muge Boz (Sirin), Zeynep Camci (Sedef)
and the second Leyla (Melis Birkan). ......................................................................................... 163!
Figure 4.7 The Leyla and Mecnun cast and creative team, with medical masks against the
tear gas, during the Gezi Protests. Retrieved from:
http://www.radikal.com.tr/hayat/leyla-ile-mecnun-gezi-kurbani-mi-1144559/ ......................... 165!
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Figure 4.8 Aksak on Ben de Özledim (2013) sharing the intended ending for
Leyla ile Mecnun. ........................................................................................................................ 166!
Figure 4.9 Screenshot series from Behzat Ç. Behzat arrives after the police finish the
search and finds Esra trying to pick up her law books from the floor. ....................................... 174!
Figure 4.10 Dostoyevsky spoke in Turkish but the show included Russian subtitles
in a tongue-in-cheek manner (Screenshot from Leyla ile Mecnun.) ........................................... 178!
Figure 4.11 Split personalities of Behzat represented all together in Behzat Ç. ......................... 180!
Figure 4.12 The real Behzat leaves the others and enters his home in Behzat Ç. ....................... 181!
Figure 4.13 “Kirecburnu Cakallari” re-enacting Reservoir Dogs in Leyla ile Mecnun. ............. 186!
Figure 4.15 Kill Bill homage in Leyla ile Mecnun. .................................................................... 186!
Figure 4.14 Che as seen in Leyla ile Mecnun. ............................................................................ 186!
Figure 4.16 Fans’ petitions for Netflix to pick up Leyla ile Mecnun and Behzat Ç. .................. 187!
1
“Leyla ile Mecnun Meclis gündeminde,” Hurriyet, 21 August 2013.
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/magazin/magazinhatti/24564713.asp

2
“Leyla ile Mecnun Meclis gündeminde,” Hurriyet, 21 August 2013.
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/magazin/magazinhatti/24564713.asp

3
“Bakan Şahin Behzat Ç.’ye Karşı,” Radikal, 7 March 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalDetayV3&ArticleID=1081036&CategoryID=77

4
Önder Yılmaz, “Behzat Ç.’ye sıkı takip,” 29 April 2012, http://gundem.milliyet.com.tr/behzat-c-ye-siki-
takip/gundem/gundemdetay/29.04.2012/1533993/default.htm

5
Thompson, Television’s Second Golden Age.

6
Yesil, Media in New Turkey, 72.

7
Yesil, 85.

8
Yesil.

9
Keyman and Aydın-Düzgit, “Transforming Turkey-EU Relations,” 136-136.

10
“Emrah Serbes’ten eleştiri yağmuru,” Radikal, 10 November 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalDetayV3&ArticleID=1108410&CategoryID=41

11
Fuchs, “Against Henry Jenkins.” Fuchs also quotes: Enzensberger, “Baukasten zu einer Theorie der
Medien,” 159-186.

12
Fuchs, “Against Henry Jenkins.”

13
Brough and Shresthova, “Fandom Meets Activism,” para. 4.1.

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14
Brough and Shresthova, “Fandom Meets activism,” para. 4.9.

15
Jenkins, Textual Poachers.

16
Jenkins, Ford and Green, Spreadable media, 2.

17
Jenkins, Ford and Green, Spreadable Media, 63.

18
Jenkins, Ford and Green, Spreadable Media, 166-167.

19
Jenkins, Ford and Green, Spreadable Media, 202.

20
Dayan, “Mothers, Midwives and Abortionists,” 47.

21
Jenkins and Carpentier, “Theorizing Participatory Intensities,” 265-286.

22
Jenkins and Carpentier, “Theorizing Participatory Intensities,” 269.

23
“Turkish TV Show Behzat C Draws Ire of Censors, Adoration of Public,” PRI, 3 December 2012,
http://www.pri.org/stories/arts-entertainment/turkish-tv-show-behzat-c-draws-ire-of-censors-adoration-
of-public-12250.html

24
Jenkins, “‘Cultural Acupuncture’,” para. 1.4.

25
Kligler-Vilenchik et al. “Experiencing Fan Activism.”

26
Hinck, “Theorizing a Public Engagement Keystone.”

27
Jones, “Being of Service.”

28
Cochran, “Past the Brink of Tacit Support,” para. 1.4.

29
“Behzat Ç. Izdırıptan Kurtuldu, Eski Gününde,” Haberler.com, 4 December 2010,
http://www.haberler.com/behzat-c-izdiraptan-kurtuldu-eski-gununde-2394945-haberi/

30
“Behzat Ç.’ye tribün desteği,” Habertürk, 26 November 2010,
http://www.haberturk.com/medya/haber/575267-behzat-cye-tribun-destegi

31
A very popular collaborative online “dictionary.” For more on Ekşi Sözlük, see Dogu, Ziraman and
Ziraman, “Web Based Authorship in the Context of User Generated Content, An Analysis of a Turkish
Web Site: Eksi Sozluk” available at
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/242100750_Web_Based_Authorship_in_the_Context_of_Us
er_Generated_Content_An_Analysis_of_a_Turkish_Web_Site_Eksi_Sozluk

32
Jenkins, Ford and Green, Spreadable Media, 116.

33
Jenkins, Ford and Green, 122-123.

34
“Bakan Şahin Behzat Ç.’ye Karşı,” Radikal, 7 March 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalDetayV3&ArticleID=1081036&CategoryID=77

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35
“Behzat Ç.’deki özel yetkili savcı göndermesi Şamil Tayyar’ın sinirini bozdu,” Sol Portal, 11 June 2012,
http://haber.sol.org.tr/medya/behzat-cde-ozel-yetkili-savci-gondermesi-samil-tayyarin-sinirini-bozdu-
haberi-55790

36
“RTÜK’ten Behzat Ç.’ye yine ceza,” Medya Tutkunu,10 June 2012,
Retrieved from: http://www.medyatutkunu.com/2012/06/10/rtukten-behzat-c-ye-yine-ceza/

37
“Star’ın Behzat Ç.’si kimin adamı?,” Gazeteciler.com, 26 April 2011,
http://www.gazeteciler.com/medya-kosesi/behzat-c-akpye-de-chpye-de-karsi-33938h.html

38
Gledhill, “Pleasurable Negotiations,” 166-179. Gledhill quotes: D’Acci, “The Case of Cagney and
Lacey,” 203-26; Hall, “Encoding/decoding.”

39
Gledhill, “Pleasurable Negotiations,” 170-171.

40
“Emrah Serbes’ten eleştiri yağmuru,” Radikal, 19 November 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalDetayV3&ArticleID=1108410&CategoryID=41

41
Bahar Çuhadar, “Polisiye Benim İçin Araç,” 2 December 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalDetayV3&ArticleID=1110189&CategoryID=41

42
“Leyla ile Mecnun’un.” Medyatava, 20 August 2013,
http://www.medyatava.com/haber/leyla-ile-mecnun-un-yayindan-kaldirilmasiyla-ilgili-trt-
den aciklama-karar-haftaya-dizi-bizde-izlenmiyor_94907

43
“Leyla ile Mecnun Fanları TRT'ye El Salladı!” Gazeteciler.com, 9 August 2013,
http://www.gazeteciler.com/gundem/leyla-ile-mecnun-fanlari-trtye-el-salladi-69603h.html

44
Tulloch, 'But He's a Time Lord!',” 141.

45
Tulloch, 151.

46
Hadas and Shifman, “Keeping the Elite Powerless,” 277.

47
O’Reilly, "What Is Web 2.0.”

48
Jenkins, Convergence Culture.

49
Hadas and Shifman, “Keeping the Elite Powerless,” 277-278.

50
Hadas and Shifman, 278.

51
Abercrombie and Longhurst, Audiences.

52
Van Zoonen, Entertaining the Citizen, 60.

53
Aysegul Savur, “Sansürsüz Behzat Ç.'yi göreceksiniz,” Radikal, 2 Mart 2011.
http://www.radikal.com.tr/eglence/sansursuz-behzat-c-yi-goreceksiniz-1041570/

54
Ali Eyuboglu, “Behzat C. Icin Tek Yol Final,” Milliyet, 7 March 2013
http://www.milliyet.com.tr/yazarlar/ali-eyuboglu/-behzat-c---icin--tek-yol--final---1677559/
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55
“Dizi İhracatı 150 Milyon Doları Aştı.” Radikal, 22 January 2014.
http://www.radikal.com.tr/ekonomi/dizi_ihracati_150_milyon_dolari_asti-1172092

56
Aykan Çufaoğlu, “TRT Genel Müdürü Şahin'den Çarpıcı Açıklamalar,” Habertürk, 11 August 2012,
http://www.haberturk.com/medya/haber/767055-trt-genel-muduru-sahinden-carpici-
aciklamalar

57
Ali Eyüboğlu, “Leyla ile Mecnun ve Absürt Bir Durum,” Milliyet, 28 June 2012,
http://cadde.milliyet.com.tr/2012/06/28/YazarDetay/1559736/leyla_ile_mecnun_ve_absurt_
bir_durum_

58
Eyüboğlu.

59
For the IMDB list:
http://www.imdb.com/search/title?num_votes=5000,&sort=user_rating,desc&title_type=tv_series
60
“Leyla ile Mecnun Reytingleri,” Reytingler.biz, 17 June 2013.
http://www.reytingler.biz/Leyla_ile_Mecnun_Dizi/reytingler/

“Muhteşem Yüzyıl Reytingleri,” Reytingler.biz, 19 June 2013.
http://www.reytingler.biz/Muhtesem_Yuzyil/reytingler/

61
“Behzat Ç.,” Reytingler.biz, 15 April 2018.
http://www.reytingler.biz/Behzat_C_Bir_Ankara_Polisiyesi/reytingler/

62
For more on freedom of press and censorship, see the Committee to Protect Journalists’ report,
“Turkey’s Press Freedom Crisis”: http://cpj.org/reports/2012/10/turkeys-press-freedom-crisis-appendix-i-
journalists-in-prison.php

63
Emel Gulcan, “Leyla İle Mecnun: Gönüllerin Dizisi,” Bianet, 28 Nisan 2012,
http://m.bianet.org/biamag/sanat/137938-leyla-ile-mecnun-gonullerin-dizisi
Original Conversation:
Dizide sigara içmiyorlar, sakız çiğniyorlar. İçki yerine üzüme, incire düşüyorlar. Aşk
hikâyesi olmasına rağmen bir kere uzayda öpüştüler. Ama kimse yadırgamıyor. Bunu nasıl
sağlıyorsunuz?

Öpüşememeleri otosansür değildi. Mecnun, türlü nedenlerle Leyla’yı öpemiyordu ve her
defasında “Bir kere öpeyim mi?” diyordu. Uzayda öpüşebilmelerinin sebebi, iki aşığın uzayda,
saçma bir durumda son nefeslerini birbirine vermesiydi.
İçki konusunda RTÜK’le ilgili bir problem var. İncir ve üzüm bu yüzden ortaya çıktı. Küfürler de
öyle. Bir bölümde “lan” lafı biplenmiş. Neden bipleneceğini kafam almadı. Onun yerine
“Damacana, duş perdesi” demeye başladık. Mesela beddua annemin sansürüydü. Mecnun çok
fazla “Allah belanı versin demese” deyince İskender, Erdal’a “Serçe parmağını masanın ayağına
vurasın” gibi sevimli beddualara başladı.

64
Esra Arsan, “Sivil İtaatsizlik Bağlamında Bir Araştırma: Gazeteci Gözüyle Sansür ve
Otosansür,” Cogito 67 (2011): 1-29.
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65
For the Leyla ile Mecnun cast’s mock interview on the Gezi Protests, see:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGABerzC4lw

66
“Leyla ile Mecnun 'Gezi' Kurbanı mı?” Radikal, 2 August 2013,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/hayat/leyla_ile_mecnun_gezi_kurbani_mi-1144559

67
Aysen Guven, “Nedeni bizce elbette Gezi’ye gitmemiz,” Gazeteciler.com, 25 Agustos 2013,
http://www.gazeteciler.com/haber/leyla-ile-mecnunun-senaristi-olan-biteni-anlatt/226573
68
“Taylan: Leyla ile Mecnun, Gezi videomuz yüzünden bitti, artık yayınlanmayacak,” T24, 31
August 2013, http://t24.com.tr/haber/taylan-leyla-ile-mecnun-gezi-videomuz-yuzunden-bitti-artik-
yayinlanmayacak,238338
69
Tuğal, “Resistance everywhere”: The Gezi Revolt in Global Perspective,” 167.

70
Tuğal.

71
Kirisci, “Turkey Protests,” 8.

72
Kirisci.

73
“TRT Genel Müdüründen Samimi İtiraflar.” Radikal, 15 March 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/turkiye/trt_genel_mudurunden_samimi_itiraflar-1081903

74
For the petition, see: https://www.change.org/p/trt-leyla-ile-mecnun-dizisi-yayından-
kalkmamalı/u/4412245
75
For the scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGABerzC4lw
76
Emre Cetin, “The Politicization of Turkish Television Dramas,” 2478.

77
Emre Cetin.

78
Hills, “Defining Cult TV”; Mittell, Complex TV.

79
“Turkish TV show Behzat C draws ire of censors, adoration of public,” PRI, 3 December 2012,
http://www.pri.org/stories/arts-entertainment/turkish-tv-show-behzat-c-draws-ire-of-censors-adoration-
of-public-12250.html

80
Bahar Çuhadar, “Polisiye Benim İçin Araç,” 2 December 2012,
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalDetayV3&ArticleID=1110189&CategoryID=41

81
Penal Code Article 301 makes it a crime to insult “Turkishness.” Dink was tried on the violation of this
code prior to his assasination.

82
Rodrik, “Ergenekon and Sledgehammer,” 99-109.

83
“Erdoğan’dan Ergenekon ve Balyoz itirafı,” Sozcu, 20 March 2015,
http://www.sozcu.com.tr/2015/gundem/erdogandan-ergenekon-ve-balyoz-itirafi-777944/

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! 195!

84
Aydin-Duzgit and Keyman, “Transforming Turkey-EU Relations,” 133.
85
“Turkey: PEN International to Observe KCK Trial,” PEN International, 2 July 2012, http://www.pen-
international.org/newsitems/turkey-pen-international-to-observe-kck-trial/
86
Jenkins, “If It Doesn’t Spread, It’s Dead.”

87
Mittell, “To Spread or to Drill?”

88
Hills, “Defining Cult TV,” 509-523; Mittell, Complex TV.

89
Logan, “’Quality television’,” 144-162.

90
Smart, “The Life of Galileo and Brechtian television drama,” 117. Smart also quotes Caughie and
Lacey in his discussion. (Caughie, Television Drama; Lacey, “Becoming Popular,” 198–214.)

91
Caldwell, Televisuality.

92
Wollen, “Godard and Counter Cinema,” 79-81.

93
Caldwell, Televisuality, 200-202.

94
Caldwell, 205.

95
Caldwell.

96
For Harun’s funny introductions, see:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KceJnxOd4AI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_-SA6xCMhg

97
Caldwell.

98
Thompson, Television’s Second Golden Age.

99
“'Hırsız’ dediği için sansürlenen Beş Kardeş final yapıyor!” Birgun, 3 August 2015,
https://www.birgun.net/haber-detay/hirsiz-dedigi-icin-sansurlenen-bes-kardes-final-yapiyor-86066.html

100
Ceren Çıplak, “Behzat Ç.: 'İmamların Öcü' dizisi geliyor,” 20 August 2016,
http://www.cumhuriyet.com.tr/haber/sokak/587820/Behzat_C.___imamlarin_Ocu__dizisi_geliyor.html

101
Çıplak.

102
“Türkiye'nin konuştuğu kaza böyle gerçekleşmiş!” Hurriyet.com, 29 September 2017,
http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/turkiyenin-konustugu-kaza-boyle-gerceklesti-40594908

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Conclusion
The Cost of Moving to the West
Despite the increased visibility of peripheral content in the global television market, the core-
centric system of transnational television flows continues as homogenization and
commercialization go hand in hand with localization. Ultimately, thus, this “glocalization” still
favors the West, because it both contributes to the spread of Western economic models and also
perpetuates the content hierarchies established in the core markets. The various narrative, aesthetic
and generic filters control the form (such as finished program flows or format flows), the direction
(circulating within the periphery or towards North American and/or Western European markets)
and the platform (television, cable television and online streaming—legal or pirated) of
transnational television flows. The resulting multi-tier system of flows depicts how gender, race
and genre emerge as intersecting axes of influence in determining how television content travels
around the world. In this system, the Anglo-American definition of quality programming works as
a discursive element of filtering for the selective entry of television content into the core markets.
Aside from this function, the same definition spreads via online streaming and therefore,
contributes to the globalization of commercial online streaming models as well as threatening
alternative interpretations of quality. Even in the case of hybridization (or glocalization), this
globalization reproduces the hegemony of older power holders in the global television market
despite the increasing visibility of new centers of production such as Turkey.
Media theories relying on the core and periphery binary have been criticized for their
failure to address complex changes in the production, distribution and consumption of television
content brought about by globalization and digitalization. Nevertheless, the intersecting axes of
influence mentioned above demonstrate the continued relevance of the core vs. periphery binary.
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An analysis of power based on the multidirectionality—or lack thereof—of transnational television
flows shows that the core still determines the rules of the game. In that context, the Anglo-
American interpretation of quality programming reproduces the power of the core by classifying
much of the content originating from the periphery as non-quality melodramas.
In this framework, the case of Turkish television reveals more details on how Anglo-
American quality programming standards as well as the stereotypical juxtaposition of the West
and the East contribute to this hierarchy of power. For example, the case of Son (The End) depicts
how the westward mobility of Turkish content depends heavily on its narrative (thematic), generic
and aesthetic reproduction of the West vs. East binary. In other words, the show’s success both as
a finished program and a format export is possible because it builds on this binary, which attributes
modernity to the West. Masum (Innocent) and Fi (Phi), two other Turkish shows that debuted on
two different Turkish online streaming platforms—BluTV and puhutv—similarly reproduce the
core-centric system of power by mimicking Anglo-American quality programming standards.
Although Fi (Phi) and its streaming platform revise this model based on the domestic specificities
of the Turkish market, both Masum (Innocent) and Fi (Phi) signal towards the increasing
commercialization of the online sphere as well as the global spread of the Anglo-American quality
model via online streaming. As this model gains momentum in Turkey, Turkish political-quality
programming faces the risk of extinction amid increasing competition and political oppression.
The demise of Behzat Ç. (Behzat C.) and Leyla ile Mecnun (Leyla and Mecnun)—two examples
of Turkish political quality—becomes evidence for this increasing homogenization. In this context,
the Turkish political quality—an alternative interpretation of quality television—loses its chances
of survival.
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Along with the evolution of the television sector in Turkey, the global journey of Turkish
finished programs and formats provides clues about the multiple intersecting hierarchies inherent
in the global television market. The Spanish adaptation of Son, named El Accidente (The Accident),
makes these intersecting genre, gender and race hierarchies even more visible. As this format keeps
moving towards the West, the North American and Western European core maintains its power
narratively (thematically), aesthetically and generically. While the original format Son built the
main story on the juxtaposition of Turkey as the West and Iran as the East, the Spanish adaptation
El Accidente uses Turkey as the East in relation to Spain—the West. In other words, the cost of
westward mobility for Turkish television is that it ends up being representationally confined to the
Oriental mold, which Son previously used for Iran to establish Turkey’s difference from the “East”
on screen.
Therefore, in this concluding chapter, after briefly discussing how El Accidente—the
Spanish format adaptation of Son—confirms my suspicions about genre, gender and race
hierarchies in global television flows, I will explain why the core and periphery binary remains
useful in analyzing the unequal flows of exchange in global television markets. Utilizing this
binary framework not only allows for the exploration of the intersecting axes of influence such as
genre, platform of access and target audiences, but also helps identify the role of Anglo-American
quality programming standards in maintaining the core-centric nature of the global market. In
addition to surveying how online streaming spreads these quality programming standards, I will
summarize the three different interpretations of quality—the strict adaptation of Anglo-American
quality, the “glocalization” of these standards with Turkish melodramatic sensibilities and the
culturally specific Turkish political quality—that I came across in the case of Turkish television.
As part of my concluding discussion, I will also mention some possible future directions that might
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contribute to our understanding of global television markets—such as comparative studies of new
centers of production; studies focusing more on piracy in transnational television flows; and
studies introducing different interpretations of quality alongside the possible role of public
broadcasting in such differentiations. Finally, I will conclude with a summary of my findings on
the limits of multidirectionality in global television markets and some questions about the future
of Turkish television.

El Accidente: The Cost of Selling Son to “the West”

Telecinco finally debuted El Accidente—the Spanish format adaptation of Son—this past October.
In addition to the failed American adaptation attempt, Runner, starring Paula Patton and Adam
Rodriguez, the format based on Son was previously adapted in the Netherlands as Vlucht HS13.
This international interest in format adaptations for Son was initiated by the show’s broadcast in
Sweden as a finished program. With two Western European adaptations and two more in the
Figure 5.1 El Accidente Cast Promotional Picture
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process of being made,
*
Son remains an exception in terms of challenging the Western borders of
Turkish television exports.
The Spanish version, El Accidente, provides particularly telling evidence of the role of
genre, gender and race hierarchies in defining the course of transnational television flows. Once
taken into consideration alongside the increasing globalization of Anglo-American quality
programming standards (mostly because of online streaming) and how this expansion might be
paving the way for homogenization of television content across the world, these genre, gender and
race hierarchies also help to map the multi-tier global system of TV flows.
In other words, the Spanish adaptation of Son, El Accidente, emerges as another example
of how existing power relations inform transnational television flows and how—despite claims of
increasing multidirectionality—the previous power hierarchies are maintained. The most
prominent hierarchical binary present in this system is the
West vs. the rest binary. This binary informs narrative,
thematic, generic and aesthetic qualities of television
around the world. For new centers of production like
Turkey, reaching Western markets becomes an imminent
goal with the growth of the sector. In a tautological manner,
resembling—if not looking exactly—Western becomes the
key to achieving this goal. Therefore, in the Turkish case
of Son (The End), the ability to travel towards the West was
first determined by the show’s identification of Turkey as “the West.” While this overlap enabled
a very easy process of adaptation for the Dutch version Vlucht HS13, simply substituting Turkish

*
For more on the format, see the show’s page on the Eccho Rights website:
http://ecchorights.com/formats/the-end
Figure 5.2 Leyla (Mehrnoush
Esmaeilpour) in Son.
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Aylin (Nehir Erdoğan) with the Dutch Liv (Katja
Shuurman) while keeping Leyla Iranian (and Mehrnoush
Esmaeilpour in Son), the dynamic became more
complicated when the show travelled more towards the
West. In an unexpected manner, the Spanish version El
Accidente substituted Turkey for Iran and sent the leading
characters to a dangerous journey there. The ambiguous
identity of Turkey becomes less ambiguous when it moves
further away: It is the East with no question. While the East
vs. West binary in the story enables European format adaptations in the initial stage, in this Spanish
adaptation, Turkey soon becomes an exotic land.
In other words, the Spanish El Accidente does not mimic the East vs. West binary as strictly
as the Dutch Vlucht HS13 does. The story once again revolves around Lucia (Inma Questa), who
starts to learn more about her husband Jose’s (Quim Gutiérrez) secrets. Jose also has a lover, María
(Berta Vázquez).
Nevertheless, the show makes a unique
move in terms of uncoupling “the East” as a
dangerous place and “the Eastern woman” as
the victim. In the Spanish version, Iranian
Leyla of the Turkish original and the Dutch
adaptation is replaced by María—a Portuguese
woman of Angolan origin. Although she is
removed from Turkey “as the East,” María is
Figure 5.3 Leyla (Sachli Gholamalizad) in
Vlucht HS13.
Figure 5.4 Lucia (Inma Cuesta) in El Accidente.
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still confined into a colonial identity. Furthermore,
once again, “the Other” is a racially marked female.
Therefore, women’s bodies—both from the
perspectives of gender and race—become the field of
negotiation to evaluate “modernity.”
Like Leyla, María lacks the autonomy the
Western women like Son’s Aylin, Vlucht HS13’s Liv
and El Accidente’s Lucia have. Moreover, her body
becomes a marker of the difference between the East and the West when María “dresses up” before
travelling to Turkey. Similar to Aylin and Liv wearing headscarves in Iran, María—a black woman
and a war orphan—ends up wearing the veil to go to there. This transformation is depicted in a
long sequence.
Figure 5.5 María (Berta Vazquez) in El Accidente.
Figure 5.6 María preparing for her trip at the airport (Screenshot series from El Accidente.)
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Later, when she is in Turkey (Episode 2), María has a very intense conversation with the
border control at the Turkish airport in Antalya. She is scared and alone as she is questioned by
the officer, who is surprised to see her travelling alone. As the circumstances around María and
Jose’s journey unravel, the viewers find out the dangerous destination they were heading towards
was Turkey. María’s time in Turkey is similar to Aylin’s experience in Son’s imagination of Iran.
The East is perpetuated as a dangerous desert-like place where women are in constant danger.
Therefore, when Son—a format that imagined Turkey as the West—is adapted in Spain, Turkey
becomes “the East” of Spain. This transformation is instrumental in depicting how “Western-
ness”—an arbitrary identity considering there is a West to every East—informs the power
hierarchies in transnational television markets.

Multidirectionality and Hierarchies of Power:
Race, Gender and Genre of Transnational Television Flows

The imagination of the East as well as María’s overlap with the stereotypical Orientalist
representations of gender and race in El Accidente reveal how the East vs. West binary that I
discuss in Chapter 1 is still relevant for surveys of Son’s mobility as a format. The role of this
binary in enhancing the format’s mobility is instrumental for showing how multidirectionality is
not de facto proof of increasing peripheral power. It is also necessary to look at the power
implications of representations that enable westward mobility. While the role of gender in this
representation is similar for all three versions—Son, Vlucht HS13 and El Accidente, María’s race
emerges as an example of how the representation of race and gender can easily overlap when
television is trying to show the difference between “the West” and “the rest.” Here, the way El
Accidente throws María—a European citizen of African origin trapped in an unhappy marriage to
an older man—to Turkey, a visibly dangerous place according to the show’s depiction, reveals
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how the West—or in this specific case, Spain—is at the top of the power hierarchy on every level.
The other, which I would describe as “peripheral” instead of “Eastern,” is once again feminized
and racialized.
Due to María’s Angolese origin, the modern/secular/Western vs. the traditional/religious
(conservative)/Eastern binaries, rooted in Orientalism and visible in both Son and Vlucht HS 13,
become more colonial in the case of El Accidente. This slippage is an awakening moment for
seeing how the West vs. East binary easily evolves into a West vs. the rest juxtaposition, which
places the West as well as Western elements at the top of the global value hierarchy. It also signals
towards the discursive and non-spatial inequality between the core and the periphery. María
emerges as a “peripheral” character in the West due to her country of origin. Moreover, her
“peripherality” is further accentuated by her gender. María’s character bio on the Telecinco
website provides a chance to see how race and gender get intertwined in this peripherality.
†
The
first words used to describe her are “attractive, exotic and intelligent”, while her Angolese origin
is underlined. Her femininity and her country of birth are used as main components of her character
bio.
Even when the Spanish adaptation deviates from the original and the Dutch version’s use
of the Iranian “other” Leyla, El Accidente finds another way to represent the hierarchy between
the two female leads. Once again, the Oriental stereotypes that I elaborate on throughout Chapter
1 find their way into this hierarchy. The various forms of this juxtaposition of the West and the
East as well as their levels of modernity rely heavily on gender and race as depicted by the
representation of Aylin and Leyla in Son, Liv and Leyla in Vlucht HS13 and Lucia and María in

†
Accessed via https://www.telecinco.es/personajes/maria--el-accidente/
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El Accidente. This coupling of race and gender to emphasize the difference of “the West” from
“the rest” is also relevant for the ways in which peripheral content is categorized as “soap operas”
and “telenovelas.” As I discuss in Chapter 2, shows associated with “melodrama” aesthetics and
feminine consumption are usually accepted as “non-quality programming.” The literature review
provided in Chapter 2 also reveal how these genres or narrative and stylistic modes are
“masculinized” via hybridization to claim quality.
This gender aspect of quality becomes visible in the domestic context when other quality
shows I analyze in my dissertation are considered. For example, Masum and Behzat Ç. are crime
shows—a genre with masculine associations. Although Fi features more melodramatic
conventions than the others, it compensates for this “feminization” by using a male lead. Moreover,
Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun have predominantly male casts, leaving themselves vulnerable to
critiques of sexism. In all these cases, gender appears as an indicator of value and power,
eventually infiltrating hierarchies between television genres as a masculine association that makes
the genre more likely to be categorized as quality content.
Figure 5.7 Maria’s character bio on the Telecinco webpage for El Accidente. Retrieved from:
https://www.telecinco.es/personajes/maria--el-accidente/
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As revealed by Kim Moses’—the American producer of Son’s American adaptation
Runner—explanations (Chapter 2) of the strategy to reach Latino audiences with adaptations of
Turkish shows in the United States reveal,
‡
peripheral content is also used to target the periphery
in the core. In other words, television content originating from the periphery—and the genre of the
content by extension—is racialized. In the failed United States adaptation of Son, the choice of
non-white actors Paula Patton and Adam Rodriguez is another element of that racialization in
addition to María’s Angolese origin in the Spanish adaptation El Accidente. Considering Kim
Moses’ comments about the Latino demographics in the United States along with the mainstream
representation of content coming from outside North America and Western Europe as “soaps,” the
question of multidirectionality becomes multi-tiered. The generic, aesthetic and narrative
characteristics of television content appear as variables influencing the course of transnational
television flows along with audiences targeted based on the platform of access in the receiving
country.
In other words, hierarchies embedded in domestic markets are reproduced by the definition
of Anglo-American quality programming in the transnational television market as well as the core-
centric unequal system of TV flows. What is seen as a lesser form of televisual text in domestic
markets and transnational market seems to overlap. While the Anglo-American definition of
quality programming becomes a discursive tool to reproduce these hierarchies, the generic,
narrative (and thematic), and aesthetic analysis of traveling content shows how that reproduction
happens on the textual level. At the same time, surveys of target audiences alongside the platform
of distribution/circulation and the context of consumption help demonstrate the overlapping
hierarchies of genre, gender and race in domestic and global television markets. Moreover, the

‡
For the rest of this talk, see: https://youtu.be/iCzkG70hjOY
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connected hierarchies between the local—which can be national or regional—and the global levels
are also revealing in terms of why our understanding of the core and periphery binary needs to be
revised. A less spatial (or non-spatial) and a more discursive version of the core vs. periphery
binary will allow us to address the complicated production, distribution and consumption habits in
today’s global and digital media context.
Moreover, the newfound popularity of Turkish television shows in South American
countries such as Argentina and Chile also reveals that the question of multidirectionality cannot
be solely discussed with reference to the ability of Turkish shows to move West in the Turkish
case. While North America and Western Europe emerge as desired destinations for Turkish
producers who have success in South America, I argue that the core vs. periphery framework
would be more fitting for discussion. Unlike other scholars, I use these categories to denote power
rather than geographical categories echoing spatially framed theories of cultural flows.
Theories focusing on the core and the periphery binary have been criticized for their
inability to address the complex nature of today’s media flows. Daya Kishan Thussu’s survey of
contra-flows is one of these critiques, and warns against equating multidirectionality with a more
egalitarian global cultural atmosphere. As mentioned in the introduction, Thussu categorizes the
“US-led Western media” as dominant in global flows.
1
He categorizes flows originating from
outside this realm as contra- and subaltern flows with sub-categories of transnational flows—
regionally successful centers with global aspirations—and geo-cultural flows—which thrive upon
linguistic and cultural similarities of the globally dispersed audiences.
2
Thussu strongly argues that
transnational and geo-cultural flows might as well contribute to the U.S. hegemony.
3

“Glocalization” and “hybridity” might explain how that contribution can happen as Thussu
explains: “Glocalisation strategies exemplify how the global can encompass both the transnational
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and geo-cultural by co-opting the local in order to maintain the dominant flow.”
4
In that case,
“hybridity” becomes merely a tactic for expanding commercial viability instead of empowerment.
5

Thussu’s suspicions are confirmed considering how the global spread of online streaming
paved the way for the globalization of Anglo-American quality standards. As I discuss in Chapter
2, the Turkish online streaming original Masum follows this model more strictly to claim “quality.”
Another online streaming show, Fi, on the other hand, hybridizes the model by incorporating
Turkish televisual melodramatic style to reconcile this global interpretation of quality and the
mainstream appeal of the Turkish melodramas in the domestic market. However, despite this
difference based on the desire to target different group of viewers, both shows’ platforms follow
the global trend towards commercialization as they try to lead audiences away from piracy.
The Turkish case also supports the regional associations of Thussu’s subaltern—
transnational and geo-cultural—flows. Thussu explains transnational flows as flows originating
from centers with regional influence, while geo-cultural flows self-evidently rely on linguistic and
cultural similarities.
6
The initial success of Turkish melodramas in the Middle East and the Balkans
is associated with the former Ottoman rule in the region both by neo-Ottomanist academic
explanations and by mainstream media articles as I discuss earlier in my dissertation. However,
the further expansion of these shows into Central Asia and South America reveals that “the
regional” might not be the best framework to study the popularity of Turkish shows in these
territories. While Thussu mentions the similar “[…] success of telenovelas outside the ‘geo-
linguistic market’ of Spanish and Portuguese consumers” as evidence of the “complexity of
consumption patterns,” I find both examples less complex than what Thussu suggests. There is a
peripheral tier of television flows that allows melodramatic content flows outside the North
American and Western European markets. The complexities Thussu identifies can be explained
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when this peripheral tier is acknowledged. This peripheral level helps illuminate, for example, how
melodrama consumption in the periphery and within peripheral and marginalized communities in
the core can simultaneously co-exist in Thussu’s transnational and geo-cultural flows categories.
In the Turkish case, these melodramatic shows initially did well in neighboring Middle Eastern
countries, but they now have a bigger following that extends to South America—a peripheral
region, which is also familiar with melodramatic narrative, generic and aesthetic conventions.
This peripheral tier becomes even more visible in the United States journals’ coverage of
peripheral content as “soaps” or “telenovelas,” as evidenced by the Variety article mentioned
above. While Gümüs (Noor), one of the earlier examples of Turkish drama exports to the Middle
East, aired during primetime in Turkey, the show debuted on MBC with the episode-per-day
“telenovela” schedule in 2008.
7
However, the increasing popularity of the show caused its
ascension to primetime soon after.
The soap opera and/or melodramatic narrative and aesthetic choices (as explained by Jane
Feuer) in Gümüs are hard to miss. Feuer identifies these elements in her study of Dynasty and
Dallas as “holding a shot on screen at least a ‘beat’ after the dialogue has ended,” “shot-reverse
shot cuts between actors,” “dramatic burst of music” and “the use of zoom-ins”.
8
Unsurprisingly,
these are elements that Anglo-American quality programming tries to avoid. Such aesthetic and
narrative differences further underline the role of the quality TV vs. melodrama divide in informing
which TV content travels in the periphery or enters the core markets.
The popularity of Korean melodramas in Turkey and in Iran as well as the popularity of
Turkish shows in Pakistan and in India are other examples of television flows happening in the
“peripheral” level.
9
The course of these flows is clearly different than Son’s journey in Western
Europe. Its closer alignment with Anglo-American quality standards—as well as its difference
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from mainstream melodramas—is the reason for Son’s stronger westward mobility. In other words,
the way to challenge the confinement of Turkish shows to the lower, peripheral level of global
television shows is “to be more Western”.
10

Therefore, I propose to use the “core vs. periphery” binary as a way to understand the multi-
tier global television markets where genre, gender and race, as well as the platform of access,
function as intersecting axes of influence. However, I use “the core” and “the periphery” more as
indicators of power imbalance than spatial categories. This allows me to depict the influence of
pre-existing hierarchies of power while addressing the complexities within global television
markets.

The West vs. the Rest and Power Comparison

The core and the periphery binary, which I have noted throughout my project, stands strong despite
the more recent critiques of spatial explanations used to survey global television flows.
For example, preferring Michael Tracey’s “image of a ‘patch-work quilt’” over Karla
Nordenstreng and Tapio Varis’s “‘one-way street’ metaphor,” John Sinclair, Elizabeth Jacka and
Stuart Cunningham take a more regionalist approach.
11
As such, they argue against the West vs.
the peripheral “Third World” model and state that there are multiple regions with their own
dynamics. I do agree with their warning against the oversimplified “the West vs. the rest” model
and acknowledge the value of regional perspectives—as clearly evidenced by the neo-Ottomanism
debates about the rise of Turkish dramas in the Middle East. However, the problem with the
oversimplified “West vs. the peripheral Third World” model is the fact that the new centers of
television production are not actually the Third World. According to Wallerstein’s categorization,
the new centers of production such as Turkey, Israel, South Korea and earlier example Brazil are
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all semi-peripheral countries. In other words, these countries are situated in an intermediary
category, which allows them to mimic—or aspire to mimic—some of the production models in
the core. This unique position shared by new centers of production requires more attention in terms
of studying increasing multidirectionality and its repercussion on power in global television market.
As mentioned in my introduction, mainstream publications and trade journals share a
tendency to compare new centers of production with each other in order to make sense of the
possible implications of their emergence. However, there is still room to expand the depth of these
anecdotal comparisons by comparing content as well as their contexts via academic studies. I
believe such comparative studies are critical for the field’s future.
New centers of production have long attracted attention as they have challenged media
imperialism theories.
12
Brazilian telenovelas raised questions about the end of Anglo-American
dominance even before the popularity of the Dutch reality formats. Similarly, scholars and
journalists alike have been discussing the new visibility of Israeli formats, Korean dramas and
Turkish melodramas as evidence of an on-going change in the global television markets. As
content from different parts of the world becomes more visible, theoretical and methodological
questions arise for the study of transnational television.
The power of comparison is just one of these methodological questions, and it deserves
more attention. For example, Turkish case studies address political
13
, economic
14
and cultural
imperatives by mostly focusing on domestic conditions and the dynamics of the neighboring
Middle East and Balkans regions.
§
However, it is necessary to consider the spread of Turkish

§
In addition to the previously mentioned work on Neo-Ottomanism in the introduction of my dissertation
as well as in Chapter 1, Bilge Yesil’s work on Turkish media provides a great foray into the political
economy of Turkish television. To read more on this, see Yesil, Media in New Turkey; Yesil,
“Transnationalization of Turkish Dramas,” 43-60.

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exports beyond these neighboring regions. The later spread to Asia and South America raises a
vital question: Can regional success be an indicator of maturation, a measure often considered a
prerequisite for global expansion?
Maturation arguments recur in transnational TV literature.
**
Comparison of new centers of
production is an effective way to explore the theoretical framework of maturation as a necessary
characteristic for global expansion. From a comparative perspective, the size of an industry’s
domestic market is a strong starting point. Nevertheless, even when the growth of the industry is
considered, the comparative size of the Turkish market receives less attention. With a population
of 75.9 million, the domestic market in Turkey is very large compared to Israel’s population of 8.2
million and the Netherlands’ population of 16.9 million.
15
Considering the size of the Turkish
market, it is not surprising to hear Kerem Çatay, one of the leading producers from Turkey and the
CEO of Ay Yapım, say that his priority remains in the domestic market.
16
While exploring the
political economy of the Turkish TV market, Bilge Yesil explains that exporting their shows gives
producers a chance to break even when shows fail domestically.
17
Although having a backup
option might incentivize exports, domestic success remains crucial for Turkish producers.
With a comparable population of 50.4 million and similar success with melodramas, Korea
offers an interesting case for a comparative study in this context. As an emerging center of
production, Korea shares a similar history of post-coup d’état economic liberalization with Turkey.
Privatization following the respective coup d’états—in Korea in 1979 and in Turkey in 1980—
paved the way for new channels and media companies. Both countries have enjoyed a television
boom since the mid-2000s. The national film industries similarly gained strength in the mid-1990s.

**
Some noteworthy examples are Moran, TV Formats Worldwide; Bielby and Harrington, Global TV;
Chalaby, “Drama Without Drama”; and Iwabuchi, “From Western Gaze to Global Gaze.”

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Shim identifies the success of Im Kwon-taek’s Sopyonje in 1993 as the turning point for the Korean
film industry.
18
Both the film’s plot, which is about a family of pansori—a traditional form of
musical storytelling—performers, and the timing of its success can be compared to the success of
Eşkiya in the Turkish context. While surveying the links between the growth of television and film
industries, Melis Behlil names Yavuz Turgul’s Eşkıya (1996), which tells the story of a man
released from prison after thirty-five years, as the turning point for Turkish cinema.
19
His journey
to Istanbul depicts a tension between tradition and modernity in a way reminiscent of Sopyonje’s
juxtaposition of modernity and tradition. This fascination with the tension between modernity and
tradition is fitting considering the semi-peripheral aspirations of development for both countries.
A comparison of Turkish and Korean television content’s global flow reveals other
similarities. For example, both Turkish and Korean dramas maintain a strong online presence as
fans depict their devotion on social platforms and access content online. Moreover, programs
originating from these countries feature melodramatic themes such as love stories. Alongside
Turkey and Korea’s similar struggles with militarization and neoliberalization preceding the rise
in television exports, all these similarities would provide interesting points for comparing
production context.
Despite its smaller population, Israel’s television sector depicts a similar trajectory of
maturation. Having experienced deregulation and economic liberalization in the late 1980s, the
media industries in these three countries similarly bloomed at the end of 1990s. However, the
transnational mobilities of their content have differed. Although circulating heavily on the internet,
Korean dramas have had difficulty entering Western European and Northern American TV
markets. Similarly, Turkish shows travel well in the Balkans and the Middle East, but have trouble
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moving beyond Eastern Europe. Israel provides a unique exception in that context. Israeli shows
were able to enter the U.S. market more successfully than content creators from other centers could.
All these similarities and differences raise pressing questions about the ways in which new
production centers can be studied: How can comparative studies help us identify new
characteristics of the global television market? Which genres and formats originate from new
centers of production? How can we study content and context together? How global is the
influence of online technologies on television? How do we define the global and the regional in
different contexts?
While the answers to these questions are beyond the scope of my work, it is necessary to
mention that the comparative studies of new centers of television production will help us learn
more about the details of the lower tier of global television flows.

The Core and the Periphery as a Non-Spatial Discursive Model of Explanation

The brief comparison of the status of these countries as television content exporters reveals enough
to argue that the core and periphery binary is influential in the rise of new centers of production.
Countries that are designated as semi-peripheral attempt to mimic Western production standards
and they achieve some success, since they have more power compared to the rest of the periphery.
In other words, these countries’ relationship with the West situates them economically—and
sometimes politically—at a more advantaged place to produce and export their own television
content. The initial phase of such exports can target neighboring regions, but the ultimate goal is
usually to achieve full global mobility and reach Northern American and Western European
markets.
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However, the unequal exchange between the core and the periphery cannot be solely
explained as spatial. As Saskia Sassen argues, the global, the regional and the national can all exert
influence at the same time. Although she mentions the dominance of the global over the national,
Sassen hints at the survival of the nation state as an actor in systems of power as she questions the
binary tension between “the global” and “the national:” “[T]he global—whether an institution, a
process, a discursive practice, or an imaginary—simultaneously transcends the exclusive framing
of national states yet partly inhabits national territories.”
20
Similarly, Tiziana Terranova surveys
the relationship between the global, the national and the regional: “[T]he global appears as a site
of accumulation of resources that manifests itself as a mass, which distorts the homogeneous
informational milieu by exercising a kind of gravitational pull that draws in other spatial scales
(such as national or regional) to itself.”
21
In other words, the global has a strong influence, yet that
influence does not annihilate other categories. Manuel Castells situates that influence at the core
of global power relations:
But there is a fundamental form of exercising power that is common to all networks:
exclusion from the network. This is also specific to each network: a person, or group, or
territory can be excluded from one network but included in others. However, because the
key strategic networks are global, there is one form of exclusion – thus, of power – that is
pervasive in a world of networks: to include everything valuable in the global while
excluding the devalued local. There are citizens of the world, living in the space of flows,
versus the locals, living in the space of places. Because space in the network society is
configured around the opposition between the space of flows (global) and the space of
places (local), the spatial structure of our society is a major source of the structuration of
power relationships.
22

This tension not only maintains difference between the spatially defined core and periphery, but
also creates the “periphery in the core” and the “core in the periphery.” In other words, the spatial
basis of power inequality is challenged when people from different parts of the world, the “citizens
of the world,” as Castells calls them, share more with each other than with “the locals living in the
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space of places.” The result is a core and periphery binary which can no longer be solely defined
spatially. This shift does not challenge the existence of the binary, though. There can be non-spatial
cores and peripheries, yet they are still cores and peripheries nonetheless.
There are other critiques of the spatial theories of explanation for transnational TV flows
which challenge the preexisting definition of the core and periphery binary. For example,
Anandam Kavoori explains the mainstream definition of “contra-flows” and then complicates this
mainstream definition:
In its most immediate referent, the term ‘contra-flows’ is used to refer to that mass media
programming that reverses the dominant (Western, First World) direction. But there are
other equally important elements that are not usually focused on. These include the
development of alternate technologies (the Internet, the cell phone, gaming), divergent
institutional arrangements (cross-pollination between media and education industries, for
example) and capitalist strategies (emergence of regional and national corporations with
transnational affiliations); emergence of hybrid texts and the development of cultural
formations that draw little sustenance from older social/national orders.
23

Drawing on the works of Edward Said and Michel Foucault, Kavoori uses post-colonial theory
and transnational cultural studies to discuss the shortcomings of “contra-flows.”
Quoting Shome, Kavoori introduces “discursive imperialism” as an alternative to theories
of cultural imperialism.
24
Similarly, Kavoori relies on Arjun Appadurai’s emphasis on
deterritorialization and Homi Bhaba’s discussion of heterogeneous identities challenging the
binary between the colonizer and the colonized in order to problematize spatial implications of
“contra-flows.”
25
Although Kavoori abstains from using dependency and developmentalist
approaches to explore the context of cultural flows,
26
as I briefly discuss above, the core vs.
periphery binary can be used beyond its usual spatial framework. Whether it is politico-economic
or discursive, there is an unequal relationship between the core and the periphery. No matter how
this relationship is defined, there is an insinuation of power and that power is inevitably hegemonic.
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In other words, the discursive power of the core overlaps with its politico-economic power.
These terms associated with developmentalist and dependency theories are still relevant within the
context of discursive power. Therefore, I argue that like Kavoori’s critique of contra-flows, the
basis of Kavoori’s arguments—Appadurai’s work on global cultural flows—can similarly be
reconciled with the use of “the core” and “the periphery” to understand the current context of
television flows. As I briefly mention in my introduction, Arjun Appadurai explains the
shortcomings of the existing theories about global cultural economy before introducing his
stance.
27
The main tenet of Appadurai’s approach is his emphasis on deterritorialization.
28
This
deviation from the spatially rooted models of media flows is even more urgent as digitalization
offers new platforms of access and circulation for content. At the same time, exploring what type
of content travels in which direction, on which platforms and targeting which segment of viewers
is helpful for observing changing power relations.
For example, content flows on the internet challenge the global television market with their
enhanced multidirectionality through the globalization of online streaming services, which I
explore throughout my dissertation. Similarly, piracy also challenges the former system of flows
by providing access to content globally beyond what networks, cable channels and online
streaming platforms offer. In other words, viewers can watch foreign content online without
waiting for the official purchase of broadcast rights. This not only allows fast access, but also
circulates niche content otherwise highly unlikely to achieve transnational mobility. Alongside
contributing to enhanced global circulation and exposure, piracy practices influence commercial
models. In Chapter 2, I explore how the desire to attract viewers to online streaming platforms and
away from piracy informs BluTV and puhutv’s brand marketing strategies. At the same time, both
platforms were influenced by pirate online streaming traditions in Turkey.
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Therefore, while it is beyond the scope of this project, the role of piracy in connection with
online streaming will contribute more to our understanding of today’s global content flows in
future studies. Despite these digital challengers, though, the pre-existing Western-centric system
of TV flows still remains strong. In particular, the traditional television sector beyond online
streaming platforms remains resistant to content from new peripheral centers of production. This
selective entry based on the platform divide is another axis of influence in global television markets.
In connection with target audiences, the selective entry signals towards a core-centric system of
power that reproduces Western hierarchy with the help of the quality programming vs. melodrama
divide. At the same time, target audiences provide a chance to observe how “elite” viewers in
different parts of the world might have more in common with each other than with the mainstream
audiences in their domestic markets. This connection is also instrumental in revising the spatial
definition of the core and periphery binary. By looking at the platform of access for travelling
content as well as the target audiences of quality programming around the world, it becomes
evident that the core in the core is connected to the core in the periphery via quality programming.

Platform of Access and Target Audiences: Finished Programs vs. Formats

The platform of access (or entry) and the form of entry are especially revealing when considering
peripheral television flows formally entering the core markets. As I mention in the introduction,
format adaptations have been more frequent since the late 1990s. In the case of U.S. network
television, format adaptation is the only form of entry in terms of reality shows and scripted dramas.
Foreign content with dubbing or subtitling is non-standard for the four networks ABC, CBS, FOX
and NBC, except for news, sports events and rarely for documentary purposes. Cable channels are
more welcoming to foreign dramas and comedies in their finished program form. Online streaming
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platforms have taken this cable trend further by welcoming foreign content even more. Therefore,
the platform of access along with the finished program vs. format adaptation difference become
significant variables that help reveal the limits of multidirectionality claims. At the same time,
these variables provide more clues about the multi-tiered nature of global television markets. Just
like peripheral melodramas travel easily in the periphery while struggling to enter North America
and Western Europe, non-American content has higher chances on cable channels and online
streaming platforms in their finished program form. In the case of cable, these finished programs
are quite likely to be from Canada, the United Kingdom or Western Europe.
Jean Chalaby’s study of the rise of scripted drama formats reveals which scripted formats
entered the United states market through network television.
29

Figure 5.8 Jean Chalaby’s categorization in “Drama without Drama: The Late Rise of Scripted TV Formats” (pg. 7)
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Chalaby argues that the prevalence of drama adaptations is a matter of maturation and that
non-American scripted drama formats became more frequent on U.S. television after the success
of reality format adaptations.
30
Chalaby’s analysis attracts attention to the higher risk of failure
and the more challenging process of cultural translation involved for scripted drama adaptations
compared to non-scripted ones.
31
These risks become more tolerable with maturation according to
Chalaby. In other words, he introduces a maturation-based hierarchy between scripted drama
adaptations and other formats. However, Chalaby does not fully account for the survival rates of
these format adaptations either. While there are attempts to adapt foreign formats, very few achieve
success. These attempts, along with the platform of access differences I mention above, provide
information to take into consideration about hierarchical implications.
In another article, “The advent of the transnational TV format trading system: a global
commodity chain analysis,” Chalaby uses the “global commodity chain/global value chain”
approaches of Immanuel Wallerstein and Gary Gereffi to discuss how the transnational format
trade reproduces pre-existing inequalities in trading systems.
32
While Chalaby’s work provides
valuable information about the core and the periphery difference in terms of format sales, it is
possible to expand this inequality even further to finished program exports.
While Chalaby establishes the existence of tiers for format trades and explains this
hierarchy based on the pre-existing trade system, he does not elaborate on the discursive aspect of
the system’s reproduction. In other words, he proves the unequal flows of formats originating from
different parts of the world and identifies three tiers of TV format exporters: The first tier is Britain
and the United States; the second tier is “a group of seven mid-sized exporters,” which Chalaby
lists as Australia, Argentina, France, Germany, Japan, the Netherlands, and Sweden; and the third
tier includes “smaller exporters:” Denmark, Canada, Italy, Norway and Spain.
33
Chalaby also
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mentions Belgium, Colombia, Israel, South Korea and Turkey as new exporters in the market.
34

Like he does in the other article, Chalaby explains format exporters’ rise to maturation. Therefore,
he argues that “Once acquainted with formats, many territories begin to look at their position in
the global TV format commodity chain, seeking to move from Stage 1—(re)produce foreign IP,
to Stage 2—create local IP for local consumption, to Stage 3—export local IP.”
35

While discussing “the issue of power,” Chalaby addresses quality as a factor of influence
on the relationship between broadcasters and their suppliers. However, he defines quality based
on “a format’s ratings record, its originality and complexity, broadcasters’ purchasing power and
the supplier-broadcaster ratio.”
36
This perspective does not analyze more discursive elements, such
as the juxtaposition of Anglo-American quality programming with peripheral melodramas.
Although Chalaby brings up online streaming platforms, he also does not discuss the differences
between these platforms and network or cable channels in terms of accepting content of “foreign”
origin. Furthermore, because he focuses on formats, Chalaby’s analysis does not provide much
information about the differences between finished program and format exports. All of these
missing aspects are crucial for exploring the double-sided transformation of the Turkish television
sector, which Chalaby identifies as one of the newcomers. This transformation depicts the
evolution of the domestic market and the export capacity at the same time. While producers seek
ways to create exportable content, production in Turkey also changes. Therefore, as adhering to
Anglo-American quality becomes a defining factor in global televisions flows—especially in terms
of entering the core markets, content mimicking such characteristics claim a stronger presence
even within the Turkish domestic market. Because of that, Anglo-American quality programming
standards help discursively reproduce the existing power imbalance between the West and the rest.
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A close analysis reveals how these standards operate on multiple axes and create a multi-tiered
global television market.

The Role of Quality in the Transnational TV Market: What is Quality Anyway?

Charlotte Brundson’s famous article “Problems with Quality” is recurrently used to acknowledge
how the notion of quality indicates a value judgment, which is not immune to hierarchies of power
in the context of production.
37
These value judgments and tastes are informed by the socio-cultural,
economic and political status of the “judges.” Therefore, it is impossible to offer an objective
universal definition for quality or quality programming. Nevertheless, the quest to understand what
quality television is has continued even after this acknowledgement of the elusive nature of its
definition. After noting how academics take part in reproducing value hierarchies with their
definition of quality, in her article “‘Quality Television’: ‘The Sopranos is the best television
drama ever [...]’,” Robin Nelson quotes another scholar to understand what quality means: “Robert
Thompson has pointed out, ‘quality TV is best defined by what it is not. It is not ‘regular’ TV.’
38
”
Elsewhere, Thompson himself argues that “quality” has become a super-genre, “a formula unto
itself.”
39
Similarly, Sarah Cardwell identifies quality as a generic category.
40

On their similar quests to address the complexities of “quality TV,” Robin Nelson and
Elliott Logan, whose summary of quality programming indicators guide my discussion throughout
the dissertation, mention “cinematic” as an element of this type of programming.
41
Nelson also
compares today’s definition to the earlier British definition:
Aesthetic values, though structured in societies, are subject to change as shifts in the social
formation impact upon the taste formation. Hence ‘American Quality TV’ drama is
favoured today where an authored literary drama with a theatrical heritage was valorised
in the early to middle years of British TV drama.
42

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In other words, non-televisuality emerges as another identifying characteristics of quality on TV.
This clearly echoes Thompson’s statement that quality is not regular TV.
Acknowledging this ambiguity, Christine Geraghty focuses mostly on the British context
of production to discuss quality. After a thorough discussion of quality and televisuality with
references to melodrama and realism as two major televisual modes, Geraghty concludes that: “In
a multi-channel environment, quality drama becomes a product targeted at a niche audience and
judgment is a matter of taste and social class.”
43
However, she rightfully asks for aesthetic
indicators to identify what quality programming entails.
Geraghty’s words on niche audiences are useful in exploring the role of target audiences
in the process of defining what quality is. While revisiting Bourdieu’s work on media and cultural
production, David Hesmondhalgh refers to quality television to explore how Bourdieusian analysis
can be used to study contemporary television.
44
As he explores the shortcomings and the
prospective contributions of Bourdieu’s work, Hesmondhalgh touches upon the link between niche
targeting and quality programming.
In establishing this link, Hesmondhalgh focuses on quality programming to raise new
questions about Bourdieu’s work—especially in terms of acknowledging the complexity of large-
scale media production. Therefore, Hesmondhalgh brings up Todd Gitlin’s study of Hill Street
Blues:
Todd Gitlin’s classic study of the production of prime-time television analysed the role of
the three distribution networks of the early 1980s (CBS, NBC, ABC) in the creative process;
and argued that the overwhelming imperative for these networks was to make programmes
which were ‘safe’, unlikely to disturb advertisers, lobbyists and domestic audiences,
envisaged by TV executives as undisturbable. But Gitlin also analysed the emergence of
the cop show, Hill Street Blues, which he describes as embodying ‘the energy of American
liberal-middle-class ideology turned in on itself’ (Gitlin, 1994: 307). The show registered
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the difficulty, if not impossibility, of implementing the ideals of the 1960s in a society
presented as riddled by social deprivation, inequality and selfish hedonism. How did Hill
Street Blues emerge and survive, given its low ratings in its first series? Gitlin’s analysis
suggests that it was necessary for the distribution networks to give autonomy to creative
producers to make at least some shows that would gain prestige among the wealthier and
more educated demographic groups. The show was not unprecedented: Feuer et al. (1984)
showed how the emergence of MTM Television (the makers of Hill Street Blues) in the
late 1960s and early 1970s was predicated on the making of ‘quality television’, such as
The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Lou Grant for this market niche, as advertisers became
more interested in addressing specific market segments through television, rather than an
undifferentiated prime-time mass market.
45

Both Gitlin’s work and Feuer, Kerr and Vahimagi’s analysis of MTM Television, which Gitlin
quotes, illustrate the niche connections of quality programming dating back before the cable era.
46

As I mention in Chapter 2, the rise of quality television and its relationship with the increasing
importance of niche programming following the cable boom and digitalization are expansively
surveyed in literature.
††

Once considered alongside the value judgment aspect of the quality television debate as
evidenced by Brundson’s work and the other scholars’ responses I share above, this niche
connection provides yet another way to define quality television based on its target audiences.
Bourdieu’s class-based explanation of cultural value and taste and quality programming’s affinity
for distanciation techniques—to a lesser degree in the Anglo-American context and in a stronger
and politically motivated manner in the Turkish case—are important components of this definition.
Like quality programming’s goal to distinguish itself from mainstream television,
according to the literature, distanciation is associated with a desire to move away from mass culture.

††
For more on this connection, see Lotz, Television Will Be Revolutionized; Curtin and Shattuc, The
American television Industry; Banet-Weiser, Chris and Freitas, Cable Visions, Kindle Locations 173-176.
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For example, John Fiske mentions critiques of realism
‡‡
and brings up how the works of Brecht,
Joyce, Sterne and Kafka are thought to save the audience from the “subjectified consumer role.”
47

This stance is apparent in Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun, which are examples of Turkish political
quality. As I note in Chapter 3, both shows emphasize their narrative, aesthetic and generic
difference from mainstream Turkish TV shows and build upon that difference to establish a quality
branding. In other words, both quality programming and distanciation target niche audiences.
Inevitably, this overlap brings in the class-based value hierarchies explored in Bourdieu’s work.
In this context, Nicholas Garnham and Raymond Williams discuss Bourdieu’s critique of
Brechtian distanciation with reference to the technique’s contribution to the dominance of the
dominated class.
48
Garnham and Williams quote Bourdieu to elaborate further on this connection:
Brechtian “distanciation” can be seen as the movement of withdrawal by which the
intellectual affirms at the very heart of popular art, his distance from popular art
intellectually acceptable, that is to say acceptable to intellectuals and, more profoundly, his
distance from the people, a distance that this bracketing of the people by intellectuals
presupposes.”
49

This connection between distanciation and intellectuals becomes the stepping stone for surveying
the class implication of quality programming from two different angles. Both target audiences and
scholars writing about quality share characteristics with Bourdieu’s intellectuals. Therefore, both
groups are vulnerable to the hegemonic implications of quality programming. The same
vulnerability and connection between these two groups brings forth a different aspect of the core
vs. periphery binary that I mention above. With the North American and West European core
located at the top of the transnational system of television flows, the Anglo-American definition

‡‡
Such as Parkin, Class Inequality and Political Order; Ellis, “Semiology, Art and the Chambers
Fallacy;” Lemon and Reis, Russian Formalist Criticism; Barthes, Mythologies.

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of quality programming helps act as a gatekeeper against the entrance of peripheral content, often
labeled as telenovelas or soaps due to their melodramatic style. However, at the same time, quality
programming also creates hierarchies on the domestic level. For example, both in the United States
and in Turkey, quality programming is distinguished by its capability to narratively (and
thematically), aesthetically and generically go beyond the mainstream norms of television. Despite
the unequal exchange between the core and the periphery, the core of the periphery—or the viewers
of Turkish political quality in the Turkish context—shares consumption habits similar to the core
of the core—or quality programming viewers in the United States. Nevertheless, this sharing does
not change the fact that the core in the periphery will be exposed to more core content than the
periphery in the core will be. In other words, the unequal nature of the television content exchange
is maintained on that level too.
Pierre Bourdieu’s work is essential for a discussion of how shared consumption habits can
veil this unequal exchange of flows in the global level like they conceal power hierarchies between
the dominant classes, the intellectuals (or the dominated fraction of the dominant) and the
dominated classes in the domestic sphere. With reference to this complex set of relations, John
Frow emphasizes the role of education in changing these relations years after Bourdieu wrote about
them.
After discussing Bourdieu’s omission of television in his analysis, following the same
connection between intellectuals and cultural production as well as hegemonic reproduction, John
Frow points towards the changing relationship between “high” and “low” culture. Despite echoing
Bourdieu “in understanding value to be relational and practical,” Frow rejects the idea that “the
primary function of aesthetic text is that of status distinction.”
50
He instead argues that it is no
longer possible to understand aesthetic culture as a unified and hierarchical system of value.
51

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More importantly, building upon these points, Frow underlines that “high culture is more tied to
the educational institutions rather than directly to a class.”
In the case of Turkish television, this statement is crucial to understanding how Turkish
political quality targets the young, tech-savvy, possibly English-speaking viewers of Behzat Ç. and
Leyla ile Mecnun. These young people—who made themselves very visible during the Gezi
Protests—are different from the older upper middle class, white cable subscribers in the United
States context in terms of their economic capital. However, they share enough cultural capital to
appreciate the same content. This alignment is similar to the relationship intellectuals have with
culture as explained by John Frow. Both groups feel the urge to distinguish themselves from the
masses. Fans’ attempts to keep Leyla ile Mecnun on air provides more evidence on the use of
bringing Bourdieusian analysis back into the discussion.
This need to return to Bourdieu similarly resurfaces in Joseph Tulloch’s discussion of fans
as elites. Tulloch mentions how Adrian Mellor follows Bourdieu and points to differences within
the bourgeois class by quoting Mellor:
[…T]he dominant fraction […] is concerned with the sphere of production and […]
reproduces itself through material capital and, on the other hand, the dominated fraction
[…] exercises symbolic power, and therefore reproduces itself through the use of cultural
capital.
52

Although they may lack enough material capital to utilize in power struggles against the status quo,
the latter group is not devoid of cultural capital. Tulloch further elaborates on the distinctions
within the bourgeois class by pointing out inner tensions: “Given the dominant fraction’s
orientation to economic production and the dominated fraction’s (intelligentsia’s) defense of the
legitimacy and value of cultural capital, this latter group ‘always exists in tension’ with its
masters”.
53
Therefore, this interest in Bourdieu’s work establishes yet another element of the
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power implications of televisual categories. These categories are essential for investigating how
inequalities of power are reproduced both on global and national levels. In addition to pushing
peripheral melodramas to a lesser level in the transnational television market, the production and
consumption of quality programming reproduce hierarchical differences between mass audiences
and niche targeted elites—whether they are defined as intellectuals or fans.
To elaborate on the power implications of cultural production, Bourdieu presents three
forms of cultural capital: the embodied state of cultural capital, the objectified state of cultural
capital and the institutionalized state of cultural capital.
54
While the objectified state refers to
objects like paintings and sculptures that are “transmissible in their materiality”, the
institutionalized state refers to cultural capital objectified as academic qualifications.
55
Both forms
are related to the embodied state, which refers to the overall process of cultivation or acculturation
acquired via belonging to a certain social class.
56
Bourdieu also mentions social capital, which
refers to the networks of relationship accompanied with recognition.
57
Although Bourdieu’s main
emphasis is on the influence of social class over taste formation, both cultural capital and social
capital indicate how power configurations are not simply negotiated through economic capital.
According to Bourdieu’s classification, education is a powerful element of cultural capital, yet it
is not enough on its own to ensure class mobility. Here, Mellor’s discussion of the differences
within the middle class becomes relevant in order to acknowledge how the educated—the
intelligentsia—might reproduce the status quo due to an illusion of shared “culture.”
Therefore, education is a fundamental signifier of cultural capital as it also provides access
to a repertoire of content that might not be available to the masses. Access to digital media and the
ability to use digital technologies are accompanied by knowledge of foreign languages—which is
mostly English in the Turkish case. Both media literacy and foreign language knowledge are higher
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among the younger generations due to changes in the education system which included these in
the curriculum more prominently as the length of mandatory education increased. Still, the
importance of class is hard to ignore, since continuing education after the mandatory length of
eight years depends heavily on social class. In other words, eventually Mellor’s lower fraction of
middle classes that have power due to cultural capital rather than economic capital emerges as a
group of viewers and/or users who have a stronger grasp of global cultural products.
This group is reminiscent of the group Jenkins, Ford and Green describe as “pop
cosmopolitans who seek cultural difference and help to educate others about content they’ve
discovered from other parts of the world.”
58
Henry Jenkins describes pop cosmopolitanism as “the
ways that transcultural flows of popular culture inspires new forms of global consciousness and
cultural competency.”
59
This same instinct to separate from mainstream media products becomes
visible in the case of Masum—and to some extent in the case of Fi—as the streaming platforms
producing these two shows highlight their similarity to shorter American television shows. In other
words, likeness to “foreign” emerges as an indicator of quality while an awareness to recognize
that likeness and appreciate it becomes a desired characteristic for the targeted audiences. The
viewers of these shows are also pop cosmopolitans. Whether mocking global pop culture like
Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun or aspiring to mimic its characteristics like Masum and Fi, Turkish
quality demonstrates an awareness among viewers of the cultural products originating from the
“core.” Such awareness is not matched by the viewers in the West.
Underneath the similarities between target audiences, there still lies an unequal flow of
exchange which maintains the core-centric system of power in global TV markets. Turkish quality
viewers can be understood as located in the “core” in Turkish context, thus they might share more
with the quality programming viewers in the United States than they do with Turkish mainstream
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melodrama viewers. Similarly, the marginalized peripheral segments in the United States market—
such as Latino viewers—might have overlapping tastes with Turkish melodrama audiences.
However, neither possibility changes the fact that Turkish content lacks the mobility of U.S.
content in terms of entering other markets.
Whether they are targeted or not, target audiences or viewers who end up consuming the
content provide a chance to address the socio-cultural hierarchies affecting the definition of quality
programming. This perspective aids the study of the generic, narrative (thematic), aesthetic
characteristics of quality programming. Therefore, audiences associated with different types of
programming can illuminate the genre and gender implications of quality programming for all
these hierarchies’ contributions to the core-centric domination in global TV markets.

Quality and its Genre and Gender Implications

Once again, the genre and gender implications of TV content, which become visible in my study
of transnational television flows, need to be revisited in the discussions on the definition of quality.
In her article “HBO and the Concept of Quality TV,” Jane Feuer brings up Todd Gitlin’s work and
identifies genre hybridization—while acknowledging that only some combinations qualify—as a
characteristic of quality programming:
Since reality TV is arguably no more or less ‘original’ than HBO drama and since both
genres have their authors and geniuses, why should one form have so much more artistic
status than the other? Both are what Todd Gitlin called ‘recombined’ forms of television
(2000). The reality show merges certain forms of documentary with the game show and
the soap opera. Quality drama merged soap opera with an established genre such as the cop
show or the medical series. HBO drama merges series or serialized TV with postmodern
theatre or art cinema. And there’s the rub. To the interpretive community that writes about
TV, and who share a field of reference with those who create quality TV but not reality
TV, only certain re-combinations matter.
60

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This genre hybridization also has a gender aspect. As previously mentioned, genre hybridization
usually means “masculinization”.
§§
Feuer elaborates more on this process of hybridization while
discussing The West Wing, arguing that quality programming can be a “soap opera narratively”
and lack melodramatic style.
61
In other words, these elements can be hybridized. Jason Mittell also
argues that “the pervasive spread of serial melodrama has added an effeminate layer to traditionally
masculinist genres such as crime dramas, espionage thrillers and science fiction.”
62
Considering
how melodramas—which are associated with female viewership in the global television
industries—travel better transnationally, these processes of hybridization become even more
interesting in terms of value hierarchies.
Denise Bielby and Lee Harrington summarize genre’s impact on transnational flows in
their book Global TV: Exporting Television and Culture in the World Market. They explain that
melodramas—because of the universal nature of familial problems and love—and action stories—
because of the physicality of their narrative—travel well.
63
While physical comedies are capable
of travelling, verbal humor is culturally specific and very hard to export.
64
Format adaptations are
a solution for addressing such cultural specificities. Bielby and Harrington’s argument also helps
explain the global popularity of American soap operas and primetime soaps. Similarly, Brazilian
and Mexican telenovelas’ mobility fits in well with the enhanced global mobility of melodramas
in television markets.
However, when it comes to peripheral content entering core markets, the same mobility is
not possible. Although niche cable channels and online streaming (as well as piracy) have
challenged this resistance, content produced in the periphery rarely enters the core markets via

§§
The following scholars elaborate extensively on the gender aspect of genre hybridization: Mittell,
Complex TV; Hills, “Defining Cult TV,” 509-523; Kackman, “Flow favorites”; Newman and
Levine, Legitimating Television; McPherson, “Technosoap,” 173-190.

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mainstream television. When it does, such content usually enters as formats instead of finished
programs. Moreover, as the case of Son revealed, scripted drama formats have better chances of
achieving that mobility if they demonstrate similarity to Anglo-American quality programming.
At the same time, the global availability of online streaming platforms also perpetuates the
Anglo-American interpretation of quality. Following the niche targeting strategies of cable
television, online streaming platforms like Netflix have pursued an HBO-style quality branding
with their original shows. The expansion of their services alongside the exposure caused by
piracy—as well as the birth of the local examples mimicking their economic model—spread this
Anglo-American quality notion. Turkish streaming services BluTV (with Masum) and puhutv
(with Fi) are examples of this spread. However, the latter show hybridizes this model with Turkish
television’s storytelling strategies. This choice stems from puhutv’s desire to appeal to mainstream
Turkish audiences. The melodramatic version also reflects Turkish melodramas’ success in the
Middle East, the Balkans and in South America. Although Masum’s westward mobility is stronger,
Fi is likely to have better success in the territories I mention above.
Nevertheless, both interpretations of quality thrive upon high production values, which
distinguish them from what I call “Turkish political quality.” Under increasing political pressures,
this type of quality, exemplified by Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun, focuses more on contextual
relevance than on production values. The anti-government nature prevents this type from surviving
on television, yet puhutv provides online access to both shows. Once again, despite its difference,
this type of quality aligns well with online streaming platforms’ brands.
Furthermore, the Brechtian aesthetics and motivation of Turkish political quality might
also be instrumental in mapping the role of European public broadcasting in generating alternative
interpretations of televisual quality. This survey needs to be expanded beyond the BBC-PBS
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relationship in the Anglo-American context. Therefore, as part of the future directions that can be
followed in the field, European public broadcasting quality does require more attention. In this
context, referencing George W. Brandt’s work, Robin Nelson compares the popularity of what I
call today’s Anglo-American quality with earlier examples of the more theatrical quality tradition
of British drama: “Hence ‘American Quality TV’ drama is favoured today where an authored
literary drama with a theatrical heritage was valorised in the early to middle years of British TV
drama.”
65
Nelson attributes this earlier interpretation of quality to the educative purposes of public
television in the UK.
66
Milly Buonanno similarly locates an alternative interpretation of quality in
Italy and traces it back to the country’s public broadcast history.
In her article “The transatlantic romance of television studies and the ‘tradition of quality’
in Italian TV drama, Buonanno compares Italian quality television with American quality
programming. She describes Italian quality as more mainstream than Anglo-American using
Robert Thompson’s discussion of quality television’s target audiences:
It should be understood that the differences are equally numerous – among them, distancing
oneself from seriality and critical disapproval rather than acclaim on the Italian side – but
the main dividing line is without doubt the audience to be addressed. Thompson writes that
‘quality TV’ ‘attracts an audience with blue chip demographics. The upscale, well-educated,
urban-dwelling, young viewers advertisers so desire to reach tend to make up a much larger
percentage of the audience of these shows than of other kinds of programs’ (Thompson
1996: 14). By contrast, Italian television drama’s ‘tradition of quality’, which was built on
and remains ingrained within the cultural logics and communicative strategies of public
service broadcasting, is characterized by its success with the extended and composite
formations of the general viewing public. It should more appropriately be defined as a
tradition of ‘quality mainstream TV’.”
67

While analyzing quality television in Israel and Flanders, Noa Levie and Alexander Dhoest
similarly mention the importance of public broadcasting and regulations in shaping quality
standards.
68
Although they find a lot of resemblance between their cases and Anglo-American
quality television, this public broadcasting link is noteworthy.
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All these examples are important for thinking about alternative interpretations of quality.
Like the studies by Levie and Dhoest reveal, the commercial broadcaster of Behzat Ç. and the
public broadcaster of Leyla ile Mecnun similarly targeted the internet-savvy, younger and educated
viewers with their “quality programming.” Moreover, Nelson’s emphasis on this earlier form of
theatrical British quality is fundamental for tracing the Brechtian nature of Turkish political quality
and how political critique is prioritized over production values. Research in this direction will help
prevent the concern Buannonno voices about “validating processes of unilateral canonization
which end up overshadowing the range of different conceptions and traditions of quality that exist
in different televisual cultures” by solely focusing on American—or as I prefer to use Anglo-
American—quality programming.
69

As part of this attempt to acknowledge other interpretations of quality, I would like to re-
state the variations that are visible in the case of Turkish television, which I discuss above (and
throughout my dissertation). My case studies enabled me to identify three different categories of
quality for Turkish television (and online streaming), which I summarize below:
1-) Strict adaptations of Anglo-American quality programming standards. Masum is a
relatively strict adaptation of Anglo-American quality programming standards. It provides
an example for how these standards are being globalized. The same showrunner Berkun
Oya’s previous work Son is an earlier example of the same influence.
2-) Anglo-American quality hybridized/globalized with Turkish melodrama. Fi is more
evidence of the spread of these standards. However, in this case, Anglo-American quality
standards are hybridized/glocalized with Turkish melodramatic sensibility.
3-) Turkish political quality. Despite some overlaps—as Buannono idenitifies in the case
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of Italian quality—Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun offer an alternative interpretation
quality television. This alternative, which I call “Turkish political quality,” is informed by
the socio-cultural, economic and political specificities of its production context.

Conclusion: Limits of Multidirectionality and the Future of Turkish TV

Based on my research, the current state of global television markets can be characterized by the
following findings, based on my research: 1-) The multidirectionality of television flows is
influenced by pre-existing hierarchies of genre, gender, race and platform of access; 2-) The
resulting system reproduces the unequal exchange of television content between the core and the
periphery. Similarly, previously mentioned complexities in the literature can be addressed by a
more nuanced interpretation of the core and the periphery binary which acknowledges the core in
the periphery as well as the peripheral elements in the core; 3-) In this context, Anglo-American
quality programming standards emerge as a defining factor in direction and platform of global
television flows since these standards embody the intersecting axes of influence such as genre,
gender, race and platform of access. Therefore, adhering to the Anglo-American quality
programming standards becomes crucial—as the case of Son and its format adaptations reveal—
in terms of entering the core markets both for European television and peripheral television sectors,
whereas peripheral content—quickly categorized as melodramas, primetime soaps, or
telenovelas—travels more seamlessly in the periphery. The latter group has trouble entering the
core markets except when part of niche targeting channels’ and online streaming platforms’
catalogs. In other words, mainstream television follows a multi-tiered system of television flows,
which is slightly challenged by satellite and digital technologies; 4-) At the same time, the
globalization of online streaming spreads these Anglo-American quality programming standards
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across the world as local streaming platforms emulate quality-based branding strategies associated
with cable and online streaming in the United States. This globalization endangers different
interpretations of quality programming such Turkish political quality, as seen in cases of Behzat
Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun; 5-) These alternative interpretations of quality programming and the
influence of public broadcasting on these require more attention. Similarly, piracy—and
particularly pirate online streaming—will provide more information about the television flows
between the core and the periphery. More importantly, comparative studies with new centers of
production such as Israel, South Korea and Turkey—semi-peripheral countries—will reveal the
pre-requisites for claiming more presence in global television markets. 6-) The West vs. East
binary not only informs the West-bound flows originating from new centers of production such as
Turkey, but also influences regional exports, as evidenced by Neo-Ottomanism debates. Global
and regional circulation as well as national production are not immune to pre-existing hierarchies
of power; 7-) In light of these, the case of Turkish television reveals, the multidirectionality of
television flows and the emergence of new centers of production might reproduce the existing
power imbalance between the core and the periphery. The globalization of Anglo-American
quality programming standards, evidenced by examples like Masum, as well as the glocalization
of these standards with hybrid models like Fi via local online streaming models such as BluTV
and puhutv, reveal how commercialization and homogenization occurs despite diversification and
multidirectionality.
Recent developments in the Turkish case complicate some of these findings even more.
The Supreme Council of Radio and Television (RTÜK) announced in March 2018 that they will
start to control online broadcasting soon.
70
This poses a big threat to Turkish online streaming
platforms like BluTV and puhutv as well as global companies like Netflix and Amazon, which
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expanded their services to Turkey recently. In other words, the global spread of online streaming
and Anglo-American quality programming is challenged by domestic political transformation,
further complicating questions of power, multidirectionality and homogenization in the global
television market.
This political transformation will also have repercussions for the definition of “quality
audiences.” The changing power dynamics will challenge the pre-existing hegemonies and
hierarchies, which inform Bourdieusian class distinctions. These changes will inevitably affect the
class-influenced categories of viewers of mainstream content and the niche targeted audiences of
quality programming.
With the possible political implications of The Supreme Council of Radio and Television
(RTÜK)’s decision—in the midst of the increasing authoritarianism of the AKP regime led by
Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the fate of Turkish political quality is even more in danger than ever. This
development will definitely concern puhutv’s Behzat Ç. and Leyla ile Mecnun and BluTV’s new
original show Dudullu Postası—an absurdist comedy with harder-to-grasp political undertones
created by Leyla ile Mecnun director Onur Ünlü. However, any shows on these platforms—
including the foreign shows on Blu TV’s catalog—might be subject to control. Similarly, Netflix
and Amazon’s catalogs might face RTÜK’s censorship and control. In these cases, the censorship
is more likely to be based on depictions of sex scenes and profanity instead of the political critique
inherent in Turkish political quality programming. Nevertheless, shows like Masum and Fi, which
emulate Anglo-American quality programming standards in different degrees, will still suffer from
The Supreme Council of Radio and Television (RTÜK)’s control.
Up until now, the commercialization of online streaming in tandem with niche targeting as
well as the growth of the export market has allowed the Turkish television sector to retain its power
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under AKP’s increasing control over the media. In other words, economic liberalization has
retained its power in spite of political deliberalization. Nevertheless, the Turkish television sector
is now at a crossroads and only time will tell what the political transformation of the country will
mean for domestic production, peripheral exports and the producers’ desire to break into the core
markets in North America and Western Europe.

Table of Figures—Conclusion
Figure 5.1 El Accidente Cast Promotional Picture ...................................................................... 199!
Figure 5.2 Leyla (Mehrnoush Esmaeilpour) in Son. ................................................................... 200!
Figure 5.3 Leyla (Sachli Gholamalizad) in Vlucht HS13. .......................................................... 201!
Figure 5.4 Lucia (Inma Cuesta) in El Accidente. ........................................................................ 201!
Figure 5.5 María (Berta Vazquez) in El Accidente. .................................................................... 202!
Figure 5.6 María preparing for her trip at the airport (Screenshot series from El Accidente.) ... 202!
Figure 5.7 Maria’s character bio on the Telecinco webpage for El Accidente. .......................... 205!
Figure 5.8 Jean Chalaby’s categorization in “Drama without Drama: The Late Rise of Scripted
TV Formats” (pg. 7) .................................................................................................................... 219!

1
Thussu, Media on the Move, 11.

2
Thussu, 12-13

3
Thussu, 21.

4
Thussu, 19.

5
Thussu, 25.

6
Thussu, xx.

7
Buccianti, “Dubbed Turkish Soap Operas.”

8
Feuer, “Melodrama, Serial Form and Television Today,” 10-11.

9
For more on Korean dramas in Turkey, see “K-Dramas Around the World.” Daehandrama, 17 July
2016. http://www.daehandrama.com/kdramas-around-world-turkey-and-middle-east/

For more on Korean dramas in Iran, see “Iranians hooked on Korean TV drama,” PRI, 20 December 2009
https://www.pri.org/stories/2009-12-20/iranians-hooked-korean-tv-drama

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For more on Turkish dramas in Pakistan, see Abdul Hadi, “10 Best Turkish Dramas in Urdu,” WebPk, 30
May 2017 https://ww.web.pk/2017/10-best-turkish-dramas-in-urdu/

For more on Turkish dramas in India, see “Why Turkish Shows Are Invading Indian TV and Winning
Hearts,” The Quint, 23 August 2016. https://www.thequint.com/entertainment/why-turkish-shows-are-
invading-indian-tv-and-winning-hearts-feriha-fatmagul

10
Unlike Thussu, I use “global” and “transnational” interchangeably as I explained in my (Dissertation)
Introduction.

11
Sinclair, Jacka, and Cunningham, New Patterns in Global Television, 173. Sinclair, Jacka and
Cunningham also quote Tracey, “Popular culture and the Economics of Global Television,” 9-25; Varis,
"Global Traffic in Television,” 102-109.

12
Yesil, “Transnationalization of Turkish Dramas,” 45-46.

13
For an extensive survey looking into the political elements of Turkish media’s transformation, see
Yesil, Media in New Turkey.

14
For more on this, see Yesil, “Transnationalization of Turkish Dramas,” 43-60.

15
“Data, Total population,” World Bank, retrieved on 20 December 2015,
http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.POP.TOTL

16
“Turkey Country of Honour: Dialogue with the Americas- MIPCOM 2015,” mipmarkets YouTube
Channel, published on 5 October 2015, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDbPqN-
t2DU&index=24&list=PLwwdjGwnXX8T5N2saJvFcanPo1dDmp2qK

17
Yesil, “Transnationalization of Turkish Dramas,” 248.

18
Shim, “Hybridity and the Rise of Korean Popular Culture in Asia,” 31.

19
Behlil, “Close Encounters?”

20
Sassen, “Places and Spaces of the Global,” 79.

21
Terranova, Network Culture, 49.

22
Castells, Communication Power, 50.

23
Kavoori, “Thinking through Contra-Flows,” 44-45.

24
Kavoori, 51-52. Quoting Shome, Kavoori introduces “discursive imperialism” as an alternative to
theories of cultural imperialism (p. 51). Similarly, Kavoori relies on Appadurai’s emphasis on
deterritorialization and Bhaba’s discussion of heterogeneous identities challenging the binary between the
colonizer and the colonized in order to problematize spatial implications of “contra-flows” (p. 51-52).

For more on these sources, see: Appadurai, “Disjuncture and difference in the global cultural economy,”
295–310; Homi Bhaba, “Postcolonial criticism”; Shome, “Race and popular cinema,” 502–18.

25
Kavoori, “Thinking through Contra-Flows,” 51-52.
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26
Kavoori, 46.

27
Appadurai, Modernity at Large, 32-33.

28
Appadurai, 37.

29
Chalaby, “Drama without Drama,” 3-20.

30
Chalaby, 15.

31
Chalaby.

32
Chalaby, “Transnational TV Format Trading System,” 460.

33
Chalaby, 468.

34
Chalaby, 470.

35
Chalaby.

36
Chalaby, 465.

37
Brunsdon, “Problems with Quality,” 67-90.

38
Nelson “Quality TV Drama,” 38-51.

39
Thompson, preface to Quality TV by McCabe and Akass, xvii.

40
Cardwell, Is Quality Television Any Good? 19-34.

41
Logan, “’Quality television’,” 144-162.

42
Nelson, “Quality Television’,” 63.

43
Geraghty, “Aesthetics and Quality,” 41.

44
Hesmondhalgh, “Bourdieu, the Media and Cultural Production,” 221.

45
Hesmondhalgh, 221-222.

46
Hesmondhalgh. Hesmondhalgh quotes Gitlin’s Inside Prime Time (Gitlin, Inside Prime Time).
Hesmondhalgh also quotes Feuer, Kerr, and Vahimagi, MTM: Quality Television.

47
Fiske and Hartley, Reading Television, 130.

48
Garnham and Williams, “Pierre Bourdieu and the Sociology of Culture,” 219.

49
Garnham and Williams.

50
Frow, Cultural Studies and Cultural Value.
!
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51
Frow, 13.

52
Mellor (“Science Fiction and the Crisis of the Educated Middle Class,” 39-40) as cited in Tulloch,
“Changing Audiences of Science Fiction,” 55.

53
Tulloch, “Changing Audiences of Science Fiction” 55.

54
Bourdieu, Distinction, 47.

55
Bourdieu, 50.

56
Bourdieu, 48.

57
Bourdieu, 51.

58
Jenkins, Ford and Green, Spreadable Media (Google Books Version), 297.

59
Jenkins, “Pop Cosmopolitanism,” 114.

60
Feuer, “HBO and the Concept of Quality TV,” 157-158.

61
Feuer, “HBO and the Concept of Quality TV,” 149.

62
Mittell, Complex TV, 248.

63
Bielby and Harrington, Global TV, 51-54.

64
Bielby and Harrington, 54.

65
Nelson, “Quality Television’,” 63.

66
Nelson, 63.

67
Buonanno, “Transatlantic Romance of Television Studies,” 183.

68
Lavie and Dhoest, “‘Quality television’ in the Making,” 64-74.

69
Buonanno, “Transatlantic Romance of Television Studies,” 175.

70
“RTÜK Üyesi Ersoy: ‘Youtube’u değil Netflix’i denetleyeceğiz,” Sputnik Turkiye, 2 March 2018,
https://tr.sputniknews.com/turkiye/201803021032471248-RTÜKRTÜKRTÜKRTÜKRTÜK-sansur-
hamit-ersoy-youtube-netflix/

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Asset Metadata

Creator Baran, Şebnem (author)

Core Title Whose quality is it? Transnational TV flows and power in the global TV market

School School of Cinematic Arts

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Cinematic Arts (Critical Studies)

Publication Date 08/15/2020

Defense Date 08/15/2018

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag format adaptations,global TV market,globalization and television,multidirectionality,OAI-PMH Harvest,online streaming,quality TV,transnational television flows,transnational TV,transnationalization,Turkish dramas,Turkish melodramas,Turkish television,TV formats

Format application/pdf (imt)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Imre, Anikó (committee chair), Govil, Nitin (committee member), Jenkins, Henry (committee member), McPherson, Tara (committee member), Seiter, Ellen (committee member)

Creator Email sbaran@smith.edu,sbaran@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c89-72188

Unique identifier UC11672150

Identifier etd-BaranSebne-6764.pdf (filename),usctheses-c89-72188 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-BaranSebne-6764.pdf

Dmrecord 72188

Document Type Dissertation

Format application/pdf (imt)

Rights Baran, Şebnem

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA