Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: How Can We Build a Kurdish Public Sphere?

In this article, we spoke with Serdar Şengul and Ferzan Şêr, the hosts and creators of BaneşanPodcast. In this text, both creators talk about their journey in starting this project and their main motivations. They also discuss the gap they aimed to fill in the field of Kurdish podcasting. The interview particularly draws attention to their efforts to bring theoretical and academic topics into the public sphere, allowing literature and criticism to move beyond the closed boundaries of academia and actively engage in social discussions. Within the text, critical discussions are evaluated, such as the construction and development of a "literary public sphere" in Kurdish, the role of author portraits, the space for freedom of expression between show segments, and the obstacles that dominant digital algorithms pose to Kurdish culture and publishing.

Engin Ölmez: How did the idea of such a comprehensive show featuring researchers and writers come about for you? What were your motivation and goal with these episodes? What gap existed in the field of Kurdish podcasting that you wanted to fill with this project?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: Both of us are interested in literary theory and criticism, and we love literature immensely. Whenever we came together, our conversations revolved around literature, especially Kurdish literature. One day, Mukrîme Tepe, one of the founders and directors of the Ban Foundation, witnessed our conversation. As Selahattin Bulut puts it in Meşa Kîso [The Turtle's Walk], "Ms. Mukrîme put her shoe on her foot," initiated the project, and pushed us into it. Together with her colleagues at the Ban Foundation, she hosted this program for both seasons. There are many colorful podcasts out there, and most of them are very good and rich in content. We wanted to contribute in a different way. As for us, we are two people mostly known through our writings. Here, we wanted to present that text-centered focus of academia and criticism in an audio format and direct it more toward the general public.

Engin Ölmez: Which segment of society do your podcasts target? When you adapt a deep literary, theoretical, or historical subject into a podcast, how do you strike a balance between academic language and everyday language?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: There are certain theoretical and scientific topics that belong exclusively to the world of academia and scholars, especially in technical and natural sciences. For instance, doctors have a specialized language, and the general public doesn't necessarily need to know it. But the social sciences are not like that—especially fields like art, literature, and culture. Before these sciences existed, these fields belonged to the people; later, experts appropriated them for themselves. We believe part of our effort is to return this forcibly claimed property to its original source and roots, while providing a commentary that doesn't forget how important science itself is. Essentially, our podcasts aim to address anyone who listens to Kurdish content. In other words, they are for everyone.

Engin Ölmez: When you approach Kurdish culture and literature as a line of work, is your primary goal merely documentation and archiving, or is it to create a new space for debate?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: The primary goal is to take theoretical subjects that are surrounded by academics and deliver them to a broader audience in a conversational format, without smothering them in jargon. Through this, literature, its inquiry, and its theory adopt a more inclusive and democratic character by engaging more participants. Furthermore, topics and debates surrounding Kurdish literature are mostly text-centric. Without diminishing the importance of this, there is a need to step outside that text-centrism and sit on a broader social, political, and cultural foundation. We like to think we may have added to that foundation. Our purpose and motivation grew around the idea of attempting, through this perspective, to discuss Kurdish literature and culture by moving it away from a closed, narrow, and specialized domain toward a broader, universal literary context.

Engin Ölmez: How objective and honest are you in your evaluations of writers, researchers, and society? What rules do you set for yourselves to achieve this objectivity?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: Pure and absolute objectivity is simply impossible in any branch or field of science. Naturally, we act according to our intellectual views and perspectives. Additionally, when writing an article or conducting a scientific study, one of the crucial rules of science is both to reflect on oneself—regarding one's position as a researcher—and to include opposing views. More or less, our rules align with our understanding of science in this manner.

Engin Ölmez: From what I have listened to and gathered, you act as two observers and critics, running your show within that framework. As a result of these programs, what shortcomings do you observe in the literary and cultural field?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: In our opinion, the biggest shortcoming is the absence of a spontaneous mass dynamic. Yes, something exists; the wheel of modern Kurdish culture turns, but like a wheel turning under its own momentum, someone needs to push it each time so it doesn't fall. To us, the absence of this spontaneous push belonging to the masses is the greatest limitation.

Engin Ölmez: In your conversations, you frequently use the term "public sphere" (qamû), and we see that the title of your podcast's first episode is The Emergence and Rise of the Literary Public Sphere. Why do you attach so much importance to this word, and can one talk about a Kurdish public sphere today?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: Just as it is our main theme for this second season—functioning as our overarching concept—the more the Kurdish public sphere flourishes, the more the things tied to it flourish as well. Conversely, the political public sphere, which is predominantly Turkish—what we might call the Turkish public sphere of the Kurds—the more its influence is weakened and broken, the more the way opens for the development of Kurdish discussions. Furthermore, among Kurdish actors in this cultural domain, culture is viewed as a specialized branch of science. Just as medical matters are taught in medical faculties rather than in cafes, a similar dress code has been imposed on Kurdish cultural works. If it continues like this, it will eventually be treated as something lifeless.

First of all, one must look at the initial era and emergence of the public realm. When you look at it, you see that there were individuals who did not come from secular or religious aristocracies, nor did they possess property or capital, yet these individuals held independent thoughts and aesthetic standards regarding themselves and the world. That is where the term "public sphere" originates. Over time, just as an independent mass formed outside centralized religious and palace institutions, a realm also emerged in contrast to the modern state where people could express their unique thoughts and opinions.

When it comes to Kurds, parallel to the fragmentation of their geography and sovereign institutions, a social, intellectual, and emotional fragmentation occurred as well. The emergence of the public sphere and our effort to foster more dialogue on this topic in Kurdish—along with our desire and drive—is akin to the myth of Osiris: let us gather the scattered pieces of our body once again and reconstruct our wholeness.

In Turkey, dominant ideologies never allowed the formation of an epistemic community where different ideas and sensory states could coexist. Intellectual space and the literary public sphere consistently took on a monolithic shape modeled after dominant ideologies. Kurds, of course, never found representation in these dominant public realms. On the contrary, barriers and walls were put up before them, and their native institutions were broken and destroyed. Our desire and ambition are to break these barriers, expose them, and naturally lend a shoulder to those attempting to protect themselves from these systems of exclusion and erasure. Caring for this concept and topic is one of the most vital points for us.

Engin Ölmez: Based on your experience and observations, what needs to be done to foster a culture of debate and the study of native Kurdish works?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: According to our observations—which we occasionally draw attention to in our podcasts—generally speaking, we lack institutions and materials. Because of this, the problems we experience cannot leave our minds and be articulated through a native path; in other words, we lack the native institutions and conceptual frameworks needed to build a collective public discussion around them. We are not pointing to the absence of something concrete—it's not like saying there is no Kurdish novel, no Kurdish cinema, or no Kurdish criticism. No. This topic of the Kurdish public sphere is vital precisely because it points to the system that needs to flourish. Most of the inquiries and concepts that make up the current state of our language cloud our theory, which leads us to become strangers to ourselves and to one another. Therefore, as much as possible, we must familiarize ourselves with diverse global experiences and see how these experiences express themselves within theoretical and conceptual frameworks. Through this, we can cultivate a rich theory for ourselves out of our own experiences and the works produced from them.

Engin Ölmez: Are you freer when you have a guest, or when it's just the two of you chatting? Do you comfortably ask your guests everything and any question?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: To tip our hat to Hegel: freedom is being aware of necessities. Doing a two-person show brings its own difficulties and opportunities. Both have their own characteristics. When it's just the two of us, sometimes the conversation flows so well that we regret running out of time. Likewise, we listen to our guests with the same excitement as our listeners, and often, the guest episodes captivate us even more than our solo episodes.

If you are asking from a technical standpoint... Producing podcasts is like a film production. It isn't live. Whatever contribution is made happens collectively. Before the show, we prepare a framework together, but often, without either of us planning it, we step outside our notes and fall into a spontaneous rhythm, which makes it even more enjoyable. When there are guests, we work on them extensively. We discuss questions with each other and sometimes with them beforehand, but spontaneous moments and the unpredictable remain stronger and more dominant. On our part, we dedicate a broad space for the freedom of expression, thought, and interpretation of our guests. Truthfully, sometimes we also wonder where our guest will take the conversation. This keeps our curiosity and interest in the show alive. While our solo episodes offer us more freedom, hosting guests confronts us with our boundaries and puts us on the trail of learning something new.

Engin Ölmez: What kind of feedback have you received from your listeners and supporters so far, and how do you evaluate and implement that feedback?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: So far, we have received wonderful and constructive feedback and criticism. The episode we did with Farangis Ghaderi ("Episode 8: Reflections of Feminist Criticism in Kurdish Literature") made a strong impact. That episode featured diverse examples, sources, and ideas that highlighted the patriarchal dominance prevalent in Kurdish literature. That show prompted us to reflect on ourselves once again, and we believe it drew strong attention to making women's issues more visible in public discussions.

Similarly, the LeWerger episode (Episode 6: An Example of Kurdish Translation Experiences: LeWerger) drew significant attention to the subject of translation. Following the episode with Hesenê Dewrêş (Episode 4: The Representation of Kurds in World Literature), people reached out to express the importance of that episode and of following figures like Hesenê Dewrêş—that is, people who have conducted academic work in this field. After the 10th episode (Writing in Times of War and the Meaning of War for Writers), where our guest was Lokman Ayebe, some listeners noted that the background of writers would interest them more. Some Kurdology professors even suggested using the written transcripts of the shows as course materials.

Things like this energized us for the second season. Of course, sometimes there are criticisms we aren't quite sure how to utilize. Some listeners want episodes to be longer, others shorter; to some, they are too theoretical, while to others, our theory is insufficient. We learn from all of these without letting it diminish our quality or lose our depth.

Until today, theoretical subjects were treated as if they were reserved exclusively for Turkish. When they find their true place in Kurdish—especially when the hierarchy between Turkish and Kurdish is upended by Kurds themselves—it naturally brings excitement and respect.

Just as many people contributed to the Great Return, we want Kurdish to return to its home—meaning to be dominant among its own people, and to be restored to the place that was taken from it. Through feedback and criticism, this Great Return refines its aesthetic and intellectual shape.

Engin Ölmez: Why was there such a long gap between the two seasons? Since you have started the second season of your shows, can we say you achieved your initial goal when starting this work? To what extent have you reached your objective?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: Initially, we planned our project for those 12 episodes. Afterwards, the interest shown by the Kurdish community, along with the validation of its importance, role, and purpose, made us consider another season. Our goal was to prepare for it as quickly as possible; we were saying we would release it around March 2026. However, both personal and general matters regarding our Baneşan team, along with circumstances involving some guests, caused the delay. We realized that many people missed the new episodes—not just as a resource, but asking about it with a tone of fond complaint, just as you are doing. This is a great thing; it indicates that we have achieved our goal and built an audience.

Engin Ölmez: In the second season, unlike the first, you have included author portraits. Why did you specifically want to include portraits?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: Our idea to create episodes with guests is a reflection of that public-minded, pluralistic, world-building philosophy. We wanted to add the voices and perspectives of individuals who remind the Kurdish audience, readers, and public of certain topics and themes. We didn't want our content to consist solely of our bookish experiences and opinions; commentary on books is already dominant. Instead, we wanted human experiences to take their place as a core element within institutionalized activities and literary production. We thought that conveying these experiences under our current circumstances might directly foster unique theoretical stances. In short, creating a show with guests is about building or adding a bridge to that public idea.

To address the portraits: as you've seen, guests focus more on the concepts we discuss first with ourselves and then re-examine with them. Portraits have a different character. Just as all human activities are public, literature is also a public activity—even at its most individualistic level. The moment a text reaches its first reader, it assumes a public character. The presence of guests and portraits reflects our appreciation for that individuality, recognizing its place within the public sphere and wanting to understand it further. Contrary to established notions, the public sphere is not built on the rejection of individuals; it is a dynamic, living structure where the individual freely enters into dialogue and constructs themselves. With this format, we want to establish a dynamic that operates not from the perspective of a single person, ideology, or group, but grounds itself on a distinct intellectual and aesthetic stance. Together with guests, portraits, and the critiques we receive, these elements join the process of construction step by step. Guests and portraits should be considered essential elements of our identity.

Engin Ölmez: What criteria do you use to select participants?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: We try to host figures who have produced works relevant to their topics, who possess sufficient research and experience in that area, and who promise something new to us, delivered in a colorful and unique style.

Engin Ölmez: How many people listen to you, and from where? In your observation, how successful has Kurdish podcasting been in drawing the new generation's attention to literature and research-based debates?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: It might be distant from our scientific approach, but we haven't approached podcasts with the mindset of the new age's algorithms. We must admit that we haven't done such a thing yet. We act through classic models; more or less, the feedback written and spoken about us, the things we observe, or the opinions we gather shape the reception of the show.

Kurdish podcasting, like other Kurdish endeavors, falls victim to dominant algorithms. Rather than asking "does it attract the attention of the new generation?", it is more important to ask "what are the dominant systems doing to prevent it from attracting the new generation?". We saw this recently with the story of Pirtukakurdî and Trendyol. What you search for dictates what appears before you. Therefore, in every field, even a single Kurdish word is important for breaking through these dominant algorithms.

Engin Ölmez: Do you have new projects or dossiers you are working on or hope to create in the future?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: Let us announce the good news of the third season right now. We have already started producing some episodes. We hope it will reach our listeners' ears by late autumn. We criticize ourselves for the delay of the second season. Due to certain health and social reasons (for instance, during the siege of Kobanî, neither we nor our guests had the morale to sit down and record a show), unintended changes occurred, resulting in several of our female guests being unable to participate. This made the representation of women appear lower. In the third season, we will make every effort to increase women's voices and participation.

Additionally, in the third season, we will turn our attention slightly toward classical literature and discuss works of that nature.

During the production process—as Deleuze notes regarding the importance of being in a state of "becoming"—the engagement of our listeners, along with the views, attitudes, and critiques we receive, will serve as an avenue for us to change, improve, and grow.

Furthermore, the institutional vision of the Ban Foundation, which was decisive in bringing this show to life, will continue actively.

We express our gratitude to Engin Ölmez and the BotanTimes family for giving us this opportunity and allowing us to share a glimpse into the inner workings of Baneşan, so that our listeners can get to know us a bit better.

Engin Ölmez: Where do you see the future of digital publishing and Kurdish podcasting within the media ecosystem, given that you chose to reach people through podcasts?

Serdar Şengul, Ferzan Şêr: The world's dominant ecosystem, much like global politics, possesses its own asymmetry. This dynamic holds sway everywhere. We mentioned this in the first episode: no matter how many opportunities exist—such as email, PDFs, Spotify, or YouTube—platforms that initially appear democratic reveal many contradictions upon closer inspection, proving to be even harsher in terms of inequalities than before. Today, Google doesn't highlight blogs as much; I believe five years ago, information about Kurds on websites was far more visible on search engines. Therefore, the future of Kurdish podcasts shares the fate of every Kurd. If Kurdish hasn't fallen in this past century, it won't fall now.

In Ciwanmerd Kulek's Zarokên Berçem [Children of Berçem], there is an episode featuring the sound of a tape recorder. That sound reminds readers of the act of recording voice and memory. We believe that Kurdish podcasting right now carries a similar purposeful dimension.

Translations on Botan Times are assisted by Gemini AI. All content is thoroughly reviewed and approved by an editor before publication.