TRT’s digital content platform, tabii, has struck a chord with its latest series, Gassal. Directed by Selçuk Aydemir and scripted by Sümeyye Karaarslan, the series has captivated Turkish audiences with its exceptional storytelling, authentic settings, and compelling performances since its debut on December 21. But perhaps most strikingly, it has left viewers pondering a profound question: “Who will wash me when I die?”
From a technical and narrative standpoint, Gassal breaks away from conventional TV productions. By placing the inevitability of death at its core, the series delivers a philosophical reflection that challenges societal norms. It also positions tabii as a much-needed alternative to the cultural hegemony established by private TV channels in the 1990s—a dominance often prioritising shallow, repetitive storylines over meaningful narratives.
The Story of Baki: Solitude, Mortality, and the Quest for Meaning
The first season of Gassal comprises ten episodes, centring on Baki, a middle-aged mortician who lives alone and takes great pride in his work. Early in the first episode, Baki survives a mock stabbing by local troublemakers at a cemetery. The experience leaves him with a thought-provoking question: “Who will wash me when I die?”
This question becomes the series’ backbone as Baki confronts his solitude and the inevitability of death. Throughout the season, he asks his friends to perform this duty, but everybody he asks this passes away individually. This darkly poetic sequence underscores the series’ overarching themes of isolation and mortality.
Gassal captures Baki’s attempts to connect with those around him by blending moments of humour with heartfelt drama. Yet, his journey extends beyond mere relationships; it becomes a profound meditation on embracing death as a fundamental part of life. By acknowledging his mortality, Baki embarks on an existential quest for self-awareness, defying societal expectations or confines of social conformity along the way.
One particularly poignant scene involves Baki burying a dead bird for his friend’s children, who had been told the bird was merely asleep. Initially hesitant to confront the subject of death with the kids, Baki ultimately performs a ceremonial washing, wrapping, and burial—just as he would for a human. This act exemplifies his deep acceptance of mortality and his willingness to share this truth with others.
Heidegger’s Philosophy and Gassal: Death as Liberation
The series echoes the existential philosophy of Martin Heidegger, particularly his seminal work Being and Time (1927). Heidegger argued that confronting death is essential for living an authentic life. According to him, modern individuals often lose themselves in the distractions of daily routines, avoiding the reality of mortality. Yet, it is only by facing death that one can reclaim personal freedom and live purposefully. Paraphrasing Heidegger’s thought, Thelma Zeno Lavine says:
“If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life—and only then will I be free to become myself.”
Baki’s journey aligns with Heidegger’s philosophy. The mock stabbing at the cemetery becomes a turning point, forcing Baki to confront his own mortality. Despite his role as a mortician, Baki hadn’t internalised the profound connection between his work and the reality of death. It’s a bit like Marx’s idea of how repetitive labour alienates workers—not just from their work, but from themselves. This moment of reckoning transforms him, leading him to reject societal conventions in favour of a life rooted in authenticity.
For example, when pressured to marry, Baki critiques the societal expectation of marriage as merely a way to escape loneliness, devoid of genuine love or mutual affection. Similarly, when a neighbour suggests he tidy up his garden to appease onlookers, Baki dismisses the idea, refusing to conform to superficial societal norms. For Baki, it does not matter how his garden is seen from the outside; he could tidy up and organise his garden only if he would like to do so. This rejection of social conformism is explained by Heidegger as the individual realises das Nichts, from which nobody has the power to save us.
Tabii: Breaking the Monotony of Cultural Hegemony
Beyond its existential themes, Gassal highlights the broader significance of tabii as a platform. Since the privatisation of Turkish television in the early 1990s, audiences have been inundated with formulaic content—recycling themes of immorality, violence, and sensationalism to chase ratings. This “one-dimensional” cultural dominance mirrors Herbert Marcuse’s critique of mass media, which he described as an instrument for indoctrination and conformity:
“The means of communication, the irresistible output of the entertainment and information industry carry with them prescribed attitudes and habits, certain intellectual and emotional reactions which bind the consumers to the producers and, through the latter to the whole social system. The products indoctrinate and manipulate; they promote a false consciousness which is immune against its falsehood…Thus emerges a pattern of one-dimensional thought and behaviour.”
One-Dimensional Man, Herbert Marcuse, 1964
At this very juncture, when we examine snapshots of Turkish television over the past thirty years, we see a one-dimensional cultural hegemony that has kept society glued to screens for over three hours each week—laughing and crying at the same things, driven by ratings and commercials. However, this dominance is beginning to crack with series like Gassal and platforms like tabii that provide them a space. In this sense, tabii offers an alternative and, in a way, restores the freedom of choice that has long been gradually stripped away from us. Moreover, it does so not through definitive judgments or a monotonous vulgarity where everyone sees and understands the same thing but through a richly layered lead character and storyline with different meanings for different people. In this regard, TRT deserves credit for tabii, as it offers Turkish society the rich and conscious alternative it has long deserved.
Here’s hoping the second season evokes similar sentiments.