The sociological and literary legacy of Yaşar Kemal in the study of childhoods

Abstract

“Children are human beings” was a foundational motto underpinning the emergence of the new sociology of childhood movement in Western academia during the 1980s. Childhood sociologists engaged with the notion of children as “human becomings” versus “human beings,” aiming to sociologically problematise and reconceptualise children as social actors. This paper revisits the motto, as an emblem of recognition of children’s agency, through reflections of a world-known childhood author and interviewer from Türkiye, Yaşar Kemal. Drawing on his published autobiographical accounts and interviews, as well as his own interviews with children in 1975, it argues: (1) Yaşar Kemal’s unique ways of recognising children’s agency through his interviewing techniques, highlighting his contributions to the broader academic effort to decolonise the seemingly Western-dominated history of the sociology of childhood and make his earlier work visible; (2) novelties that Yaşar Kemal’s approach offers to contemporary childhood studies, from an “ethnographer” standpoint, advancing the field both theoretically and methodologically; (3) the significance of his work as sociological fiction for both children and adult readers.

Introduction

Like many readers in Türkiye, I grew up reading Yaşar Kemal’s literary fiction. His child protagonists, who endure social, geographical, personal, and historical hardships, stay with many of us throughout our lives, becoming part of our collective memory. Now, as a childhood sociologist, approaching his book Çocuklar İnsandır [Children are Human Beings] (Kemal, 2018 [1975])—a collected edition of his journal columns presenting interviews with children and an interview with himself in Turkish—I noticed striking overlaps between his thinking and conceptualisations in Childhood Studies, which emerged from the sociology of childhood as an initially Western-dominated research discipline. These similarities bring to light his early contributions to the field before it was formally recognised as a sociological subdiscipline in academic literature. Re-reading his approach thus contributes to broader efforts to deconstruct and decolonise Western-centric sociological knowledge, particularly in the social study of childhoods and children’s literature.

Kemal (1923–2015) was a contemporary literary author and journal interviewer who incorporated oral and written folk traditions (Tharaud, 2011), including Mâni (quatrains), ağıt (laments), türkü (folk songs), tekerleme (tongue twisters/rhymed folk riddles), destan (epics), and halk hikâyeleri (folk tales). Translated into more than 40 languages (Çiftlikçi, 2025), his works explore themes of economic, social, and cultural change, corruption, alienation, love and traditions, blood feuds, and the struggles of impoverished villagers. Furthermore, his literary journalism (Yavalar and Çakır, 2021), based on participant observation and interviews, particularly documented the everyday lives of children living on the streets, through the children’s own words.

From the perspective of the sociology of childhood, there is significant value in examining Kemal’s approach to researching with children as an early example of ethnographic research in the 1970s—a time when methodologies in childhood research were still largely oriented toward collecting adult perspectives rather than children’s voices (James and Prout, 1997). Such examination allows for an appreciation of his literary heritage as a significant contribution to the sociological studies of childhood and offers insights into the research practices he developed as a childhood researcher, an “ethnographer,” and an author, bringing to light his substantial advocacy for the visibility of children’s agency.

Furthermore, Kemal’s mastery in merging his research experience as a journalist with his narrative career as a literary author—in other words, in blending non-fiction social facts with fictional storytelling—stands out as a great example of the genre of “sociological fiction” that contributes to the field of childhood research. Rethinking Kemal as a “sociologist” and “ethnographer” can serve as a helpful means of acknowledging his academically valuable contributions and learning from his legacy as childhood scholars.

Drawing on the book Çocuklar İnsandır (Children are Human Beings), which consists of an interview with Yaşar Kemal as both a journal interviewer and literary author, as well as his own interviews with children in the 1970s, I aim to bring into conversation Kemal’s approach to understanding children’s lived experiences from their own perspectives, and the central arguments of Childhood Studies as an established academic discipline. This will allow me to argue the interconnections between the two and make visible Kemal’s published contributions that preceded the “birth” of the discipline in the Western world. To facilitate this, I will include direct quotes from his works, which I have translated from Turkish into English for the purpose of this paper.

I begin by briefly presenting a biographical account of Yaşar Kemal, along with the social and political contexts of Türkiye and prevailing perceptions of childhood during his writing period. I then continue by addressing fundamental debates in the sociology of childhood and the shifts in theoretical approaches to children throughout the historical development of Childhood Studies as an interdisciplinary field within the social sciences. These discussions will be accompanied by quotes and reflections from Kemal on his extensive fieldwork with children, setting the stage for the paper’s objective to revisit Kemal’s standpoint from a sociological perspective. I will then scrutinise Kemal’s work, focusing on his theoretical and methodological contributions to childhood research and sociological fiction, drawing on the aforementioned book.

Kemal’s writing life and the socio-political climate of childhoods in his time

An internationally recognised author, Yaşar Kemal (pen name of Kemal Sadık Gökçeli) was one of the most prominent novelists of modern Türkiye. He was repeatedly nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature (first in 1973) and received many awards, including the French Légion d’Honneur, the International Del Duca Prize (1982), and the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade (1997). He was also awarded honorary doctorates from Strasbourg University (1991) and Bilkent University (1988, 2002), as well as recognition from the Bordeaux Publishers’ Association (1998) and the Turkish Presidency’s Culture and Arts Awards (2008) (Çiftlikçi, 2025).

Kemal’s work was also celebrated nationally. His major breakthrough came with İnce Memed (Memed, My Hawk) (1955), the first of four volumes tracing the life of Memed, a young boy growing up in Çukurova, in a south-eastern region of Türkiye. The novel won the prestigious Varlık Prize, securing Kemal lasting recognition across Türkiye. Widely read at home, it went on to sell over a million copies and has been translated into numerous languages (Çiftlikçi, 2025; Yapı Kredi Yayınları, n.d.).

Yaşar Kemal was born in October 1923 in Hemite, a village in the Çukurova region. His birth coincided with the proclamation of the Turkish Republic and the end of the Ottoman Empire. His childhood and youth unfolded during the early Republican period, when a new national identity was taking shape for citizens. Through his childhood experiences of village life, he observed the emergence of democratic processes, the transition to the Republic, and the transformations of rural society. Kemal described his childhood as a time when neither he nor other children in his village were treated as “children” or lesser beings, realising this only after moving to the city, where children were regarded as “children” (Kemal, 2011).

A Turkish writer of Kurdish origin, as he described himself (Kemal, 2015; The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2025) he grew up in an environment of both hardship and resilience (Tharaud, 2011). He lost one eye in a childhood accident, and his father was later killed in a blood feud. He attended secondary school in Adana but left in his final year, never completing formal education. In his youth, he worked in a remarkable variety of jobs; cotton labourer, tractor driver, rice-field foreman, farmhand scribe, public letter-writer, teacher, and librarian. These experiences gave him an intimate knowledge of the struggles and stories of ordinary citizens, which would later infuse his depictions of rural Anatolian life (Boztilki, 2023; The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2025).

Kemal began publishing in the early 1950s, with İnce Memed (Memed, My Hawk, 1955) quickly establishing him as a leading voice in social protest literature. His first novels were rooted in the Çukurova region, which he knew closely. During this decade, he turned his attention to the conflicts among local landowners (ağa) and the hardships these struggles imposed on the rural poor, children, particularly boys navigating village hierarchies (Kemal, 2011). In 1951, he joined the newspaper Cumhuriyet, first as a proofreader and later as a reporter, opening the way to professional writing and journalism.

Kemal’s literature often features children as protagonists, portraying their experiences and their challenges as social actors. During the early years of the Republic in Türkiye, children were increasingly regarded not only as members of families but also as citizens supported by the state, as Öztan (2013) notes. This period elevated the social value of childhood and of childhood literature, portraying children as bearers of hope and the future. The transition from empire to nation-state also politicised childhood: children were expected to embody civilised, modern traits, reflecting Western ideals and the Republic’s vision of modernity. Kemal’s works, however, focused on the state policies’ shortcomings on protecting the child.

Kemal’s active years overlapped with turbulent periods in Türkiye, including the military coups of 1960, 1971, and 1980. In 1962, he joined the Workers’ Party of Türkiye (Türkiye İşçi Partisi, TİP), serving on its Central Executive Board until his resignation in 1969. He was vocal against state repression, minority rights violations, and censorship, which led to prosecutions and trials. Following the 12 March 1971 military memorandum, he and his family were briefly detained but released within a month (Çiftlikçi, 2025; Kemal, 2011).

Critics have praised Kemal for blending rural oral traditions with modern realist narrative, portraying peasants, including children and young people, as complex social actors rather than passive figures. Despite this acclaim, his outspoken commentary on the state policies led to legal challenges. In 1995, for instance, he faced prosecution over an article in Der Spiegel, and a later piece in Index on Censorship resulted in a suspended prison sentence (Boztilki, 2023).

Leaving a lasting legacy of literary-sociological accounts of childhood in Türkiye, Yaşar Kemal passed away on 28 February 2015 in Istanbul. His works have been discussed as a global phenomenon (Tharaud, 2011), and the contributions of his literature to various sociological fields have been explored elsewhere, including ecosociology (Şeker, 2019a), village sociology and the sociology of the novel (Şeker, 2019b), and social structure and literary sociology (Yalın, 2024).

Theoretical advances in Kemal’s approach to researching with children

Sociological focus on children and childhoods took shape as a distinct discipline, with its own conceptual toolkit, in the early 1980s, with contributions from scholars in the Western world. For instance, James and Prout (1997; UK) played a pivotal role by calling for the recognition of children as social actors with agency. Corsaro (1997; USA) introduced the concept of peer culture, observing how children build unique cultures through interactions with their peers. Qvortrup (1985; Norway) posed the question of whether children are “human beings” or “human becomings,” contrasting the implications of viewing children in different ways within public life. Jenks (1996; UK) argued that childhoods are social constructions, while Mayall (2002; UK) examined the social position of children within generational and gender relations, contributing to the development of the sociology of childhood as a discipline. These contributions critically challenged traditional views of children as passive recipients of socialisation and, conceptually and theoretically, argued that children actively and creatively construct and interpret their social worlds.

Preceding these arguments prominently raised in the Western world, Yaşar Kemal’s conceptual, empirical, and theoretical contributions offered a creative exploration of these ideas, in various forms, including journal columns, novels, stories, and interviews.

In the 1980s, the debate raised by Qvortrup (1985, 2009) on whether children are human beings or human becomings was pivotal in urging scholars to reconsider the way children are viewed in terms of their present, as well as their future. The perspective that many societies share towards children as a futuristic project, as “unfinished, raw material to be processed” (Qvortrup, 2009: 632), was challenged by this comparative question. It deconstructed traditional notions of children as voiceless, invisible, vulnerable, and as “becomings” rather than “beings.”

The conceptualisation of children as human beings powerfully helped the social studies of childhood gain recognition as a discipline. This decolonisation of the adult view towards children gave momentum to the Childhood Studies as an applied field of social research. It contributed to rethinking children as social actors—individuals endowed with agency, observers, problem-solvers, culture producers, and actors who relationally and contextually respond to situations (Hutchby and Moran-Ellis, 1998; Honig, 2009; Üzümcü, 2022).

While this approach was integrated into the academic platform in the 1980s, the statement “Children are human beings” had already been pronounced, published, and debated by Yaşar Kemal in the 1970s in the newspaper Cumhuriyet, under the very title “Children are Human Beings,” where he included his interviews with children who lived on the streets (Yavalar and Çakır, 2021), highlighting a social phenomenon/problem in Türkiye at the time. Yaşar Kemal also helpfully elaborated on this statement in an interview with Kemal Özer in 1975:

I don’t treat children like children. (. . .) I don’t look at them like children. I don’t look at them as a separate species. Why is this so? I have never believed that children are as childish as adults treat them. They are simply human beings. They haven’t learned many things yet, their wealth of experience is less compared to older people, they have lived fewer years, but they are straightforwardly human. (Kemal, 2018: 17)

Through his first-hand interactions with children—whether visiting them in the hidden corners of the street where they sleep, on the distant coasts of Istanbul where they catch birds for money, or at the Çocuk Karakolu (Children’s Police Station) where they are held for minor theft—he comes to understand that, “These are strong people, strong, weak, pitiful, innocent, cunning. They are human, like humanity itself. . .” (Kemal, 2018: 34).

By his participant observations in different settings and interviews with children living on the streets, Kemal noticed that children perceived and acknowledged the adult view of childhood. Kemal’s interviewer, Özer, also observed this, remarking, “What caught my attention in the interviews is that children also see themselves through the same perspective as adults do.” (Kemal, 2018: 21) Children living on the streets, treated as a source of concern and a problem from the adult viewpoint, mirrored this perspective in themselves. However, following his series of close engagements and interviews with these children, Kemal felt deeply uncomfortable with such a perception and did not find it acceptable or fair, opposing it:

I asked the children themselves, I asked the police, and they all said, ‘They’re spoiled, they won’t amount to anything,’ but they didn’t say anything else. They said, ‘There’s no good in us,’ but they didn’t say anything else. No, I don’t believe it. This is against humanity. This is a thought contrary to the human race. We have taught this thought to children. They mimic the words of adults, saying, ‘We won’t amount to anything.’ (Kemal, 2018: 52)

Indeed, one of the interviewee children, 12-year-old Kadir, who proudly and dedicatedly worked at a blacksmith’s shop to care for his mother, responded to Kemal’s question, “What is your pleasure?” by saying, “What pleasure could I have? What pleasure could a child possibly have?” (Kemal, 2018: 63).

Literature offers a valuable lens for researchers to examine the cultural, social, and political representations within a given society (see, for instance, Bradford, 2011; Wu and An, 2025). In his journalism and literature, Kemal’s vivid depiction of his opposition to the adult view of children living on the streets as worthless, spoiled, or bad, based on first-hand data from his interviews, offers essential food for thought for childhood scholars. The way children view themselves through the adult gaze is indeed a problem that has been argued by other researchers (Üzümcü, 2022, 2025), highlighting the intricate process of negotiation between children and adults in children’s participation in the social sphere.

Kemal further elaborated on this idea, arguing that the adult approach to children differed across geographical contexts. He emphasised that how children view themselves was a process of contextual negotiation. For instance, he observed that in rural contexts, children were acknowledged as agentic beings to such an extent that the distinction between adult and child was often blurred:

In the community, being a child is not belittled. In Anatolian villages, children are put to work from the day they start walking. It’s only bad when they are made to do tasks beyond their strength. As long as they do what they are capable of, they grow up naturally. That’s why children in front of nature are healthier, they are the children of the people. (Kemal, 2018: 21)

Punch (2002c) also later suggested the notion of negotiated interdependence, referring to how, in rural contexts, young people were linked to their broader family relationships by achieving economic independence as active contributors to the household. This connection to family structures allowed them to move in and out of relative autonomy and dependence.

Kemal strengthened this argument by remarking that the distinction between adult and child became blurred in contexts where adults would engage in activities considered childish by modern society:

They [adults] dismiss it [flying kites] as child’s play. Yet, they all enjoy flying kites. They all enjoy playing with toy trains. But somehow, they label it as child’s play. And when they grow up, they impose the same restriction on their own children. I have seen many people in my village, many elderly women, join in children’s games. There was no such conditioning. But here, in the city, there is. Either there is no time, or the education system is structured in a way that separates them from children. (Kemal, 2018: 22).

Further reflecting on his observations, Kemal described how children were under pressure from the adult world, particularly in the “majority world” (Twum-Danso Imoh et al., 2019):

For me, the way parents treat their children is an unbelievable form of oppression. They look at them as if they were a different species. They impose terrifying pressures—restrictions, beatings, endless advice that exhausts children. Or they spoil them with excessive affection and indulgence. In both cases, the child is stripped of their humanity. There’s something else I’ve observed in children: all of them want to run away from home. This is my own research. When I delve deeper, I find that every child, even those who seem to have everything, still wants to escape. In our world, a child is an uneasy being. And that is also a problem of our world. (Kemal, 2018: 17–18).

Kemal’s reflections offer a meaningful lens through which to connect the sociology of childhood to parenting studies—particularly by foregrounding children’s experiences of constraint, surveillance, and the pressures of parental expectations. In parenting studies, especially those influenced by sociological and postcolonial critiques, parenting is increasingly understood not as a purely private or apolitical practice, but as one deeply entangled in broader social, cultural, and structural forces (Rosen and Faircloth, 2020; Lareau, 2003; Furedi, 2002). In line with this perspective, Kemal draws attention to forms of parenting that range from authoritarian control to normative moralisation, highlighting how such extremes can obscure children’s humanity. His insights help us understand children’s broader positionality in the world and suggest that experiences of childhood are often troubled by these binary forms of parental control.

To Kemal, children were uneasy beings because they were conditioned in various ways by adults. Studying childhood, therefore, requires acknowledging this dynamic, as research with children often reveals their voices as a product of the complex relationship between how the child experiences the adult gaze in their lives and how they see the world.

Another essential aspect that stands out in Kemal’s works is his clear depiction of the heterogeneity of childhood experiences. As highlighted by Qvortrup (1985) and later extensively explored within Childhood Studies (such as, Taylor and Pacini-Ketchabaw, 2015; Twum-Danso Imoh et al., 2019), Contrary to common societal perceptions, childhood is not a universal experience; it varies across regions, cultures, historical periods, and socio-economic structures. Therefore, childhood should be understood as a social construction (James and Prout, 1997). Kemal’s child interviewees came from diverse backgrounds, each with unique stories and upbringings, and they distinctly articulated accounts of childhood as a socially and contextually varied experience. These included accounts of Metin, who did not know his parents; Zilo, who ran away from home; Sami, who engaged in pickpocketing; Oğuz, who struggled with obesity; Kadir, who worked as a blacksmith; Ertuğrul, who sold birds to earn his living; Erol, who went to prison; and many others (Kemal, 2018).

As children reflected on their lives, Kemal observed that children’s narratives often involved elements of imagination, longing dreams, mysteries, and magic. In listening to them, he found himself drawn into their worlds, where the imagined and the real blended in such a way that they created their own unique stories. According to Kemal, these imaginations served two key purposes for children: (1) they helped children address and come to terms with their desires and longings, and (2) they provided a tool for them to navigate the harsh realities of life on the streets. He remarked that “Children are creatures of deep longing. (. . .) Since they have little experience and remain unspoiled, they transform their longings into reality—into dreams” (Kemal, 2018: 22). For childhood researchers, this is an essential insight to consider: children’s narratives, especially those from challenging backgrounds, often reveal not only their thoughts and reflections but also the aspirations and desires they hold, offering a basis for deeper levels of analysis of how they make sense of their worlds.

Kemal also observed that, for his interviewees, who were abandoned or runaway children, lying was second nature—just another rule of the game. He noticed that “There will be an enchantment, something irresistible in their lives, so they can bear it. They are spellbound, sir—captivated by life itself.” (Kemal, 2018: 33). As he noted, they were enchanted by police brutality, the cold, filth, and suffering. Each child had their own adventure—and those who didn’t, simply invented one.

They were, however, remarkable observers of the world and how relationships functioned. For example, Kaya, a 14-year-old boy, who, while recounting a conversation with his boss, was careful to clarify: “If I ever thought he was mocking me, I wouldn’t look him in the face for a second.” He then shared his insight: “Once a person stumbles, there will always be someone to mock them” (Kemal, 2018: 41). As in Kaya’s case, children develop their own life lessons and visionary conclusions based on their experience and observations. Expanding on this, Kadir, a 12-year-old boy, reflected on how his family treated him “like a dog” before he started working and earning money. He recalled that once he began to make money, his mother kissed him first, then his father, and then his sister. His family, now eager to show him respect, made sure he had the best cuts of meat and fresh bed sheets. “Aaaaaaah, this world,” he exclaimed, “it’s a world of self-interest” (Kemal, 2018: 65). Similarly, 20-year-old Oğuz, who had lived on the streets since he was seven, learned through hardship never to trust anyone (Kemal, 2018: 163). Meanwhile, 10-year-old Muhterem, acutely aware of the abuse and exploitation he has endured, continued to work as he saw fit, holding onto the hope of a better future. Children, as careful observers, drew lessons from their experiences and made thoughtful decisions, reflecting a keen awareness of the social dynamics around them. In other words, they exercised relational agency in response to evolving dynamics of their relationships and contexts (Üzümcü, 2024).

Methodological advances in Kemal’s approach to listening to children’s voices

Yaşar Kemal’s research participants were from a particular group. The children he interviewed were those who had run away from home due to economic hardships or unrest within their households in Istanbul, Türkiye. Some were orphans, or their mothers had left, leaving them alone. These children survived by eating scraps from restaurants, sleeping in railway cars, by city walls, or early morning coffeehouses. Kemal brought to light the everyday life of children living on the streets, spending time with them from morning till night. Through longitudinal observations, he examined their peer cultures and the ways they constructed meaning (Corsaro, 2003; Christensen and James, 2017).

Kemal’s fieldwork technique exemplifies what is known in social sciences as multi-sited ethnography (Boccagni, 2019; Falzon, 2009). He visited various locations where the children lived, as he noted: “I met and befriended children in Sirkeci, Harem, on trains, on ferries, in Kumkapı, Yenikapı, Beyoğlu, at the vegetable market, and in front of the New Mosque. I also saw them at the Children’s Bureau, where I spoke with them and became their friend” (Kemal, 2018: 35). Through exploring new sites and using snowball sampling, he reached more children. He wandered around Florya from morning until evening to find his child friends and meet new ones. He visited the same places repeatedly over many days, in various weather conditions and at different times. For instance, he reported having talked with Selim many times “against the rising sun by the shore” (Kemal, 2018: 263).

Rather than conducting formal interviews, Kemal engaged in sohbet—casual, contextual, open-ended conversations—allowing children to talk freely about life, interests, love, friendship, or anything else they wished to share. He employed unstructured, open-ended interviews to facilitate conversation. He posed simple, primarily one-sentence 5W–1H questions and incorporated Yes/No questions for verification. Furthermore, he added follow-up inquiries, such as, “Well, what happened then? And now?”

Kemal adopted a natural yet intentionally one-on-one interviewing style, speaking directly with children rather than relying on adult accounts about them (Christensen and James, 2017). He met with the children individually, without adults present, even in challenging times. For instance, during a series of his interviews at the Children’s Bureau, ¹ one day the Bureau Director eventually intervened, informing Kemal that he was no longer permitted to speak with children alone due to an order from higher authorities. Rejecting this restriction, Kemal refused to conduct interviews in the presence of an adult and discontinued his engagement under those conditions. Instead, he continued his interviews with children in other settings, where he could engage with them without the presence of adults. This approach was later recommended by childhood researchers as a means to capture children’s reflections in their own words and to mitigate the potential power imbalances between adults and children (Punch, 2002b; James et al., 1998).

Given the challenging experiences and backgrounds of the children, Kemal developed techniques to facilitate deeper discussions during interviews. Some children were reluctant to talk about themselves and their lives, so he encouraged them to share stories about their friends instead. He observed that they openly conveyed their own experiences through their friends’ lives (Kemal, 2018: 35). For instance, when he asked 14-year-old Kaya about his friends, he became animated, recounting one adventure after another. In all these stories, the siblings of his friends missed them dearly, expressing that one day they would search for them and plead for them to come back home. Kemal noted that children project their longings, unfulfilled desires, and feelings of shame onto other children (Kemal, 2018: 51). This technique Kemal employed offers valuable insights for researchers working with children, particularly those from socially disadvantaged backgrounds.

Kemal positioned himself to encourage children to approach him rather than directly initiating contact, as Corsaro (1997), a childhood ethnographer, did later in the 1980s. By fostering their interest, he ensured that the children engaged with him voluntarily. This non-invasive, grounded approach enabled him to connect with children in meaningful and profound ways. For instance, he recounted an episode with Zilo in which, when she stopped talking, he chose not to ask further questions to avoid imposing on her. However, noticing his silence, she resumed sharing her life story (Kemal, 2018: 151). Once their conversation concluded, Kemal mentioned that he would be interviewing other children, Zilo argued that the other children were untrustworthy, stating, “They would stab a big man like you when they see you” (Kemal, 2018: 153), creatively attempting to dissuade him not to leave her.

Kemal also focused on building relationships, establishing meaningful connections, and forming friendships with children in his approach to them. He emphasised that he saw them as human beings rather than merely “children,” contrasting with how society often perceives them: “I don’t treat children like children. If I have a relationship, a friendship with a child, they are my friend, not a child. I don’t see them as a child. I don’t view them as a different kind of human being” (Kemal, 2018: 17). He observed that once they became friends with him and trusted him, children spoke openly and fearlessly about everything: “I became friends with them. They want friendship. There is nothing they won’t tell me. (. . .) They share everything, from the worst to the best. (. . .) And they trusted me. Trust comes from friendship” (Kemal, 2018: 24). Building rapport with children was also later extensively adopted and recommended in research with children by childhood scholars (Corsaro, 1997; Punch, 2002a).

Expanding on this, Kemal mentioned becoming very good friends with 11- to 12-year-old Sait, whose bird-keeping morning he joined in Florya, Istanbul. He expressed, “I am really sad that I met this man so late” (Kemal, 2018: 80), reflecting his regret at not having spent more time with him. By referring to Sait as “man,” he challenged the societal perception of children as merely “child-like.” Similarly, another friend of Kemal, Metin, referred to him as “friend” and remarked, “Everything in the world is fleeting, but friendship is eternal. (. . .) I don’t call you uncle, elder brother, or sibling; I call you friend. Because friendship is above all, and that’s why I call you friend” (Kemal, 2018: 222). In Turkish culture, it is common to informally address an older man as “brother” or “uncle” (Emiroğlu, 2012). However, Metin, while acknowledging these culturally available terms, emphasised his deliberate choice to call Kemal “friend.”

Kemal’s style of listening to children was lateral, engaging with children as almost equals to genuinely understand their perspectives rather than imposing an adult hierarchy. A notable episode he mentioned illustrates his approach. He felt a deep sadness for 10-year-old Muhterem, whose hard work was clearly being exploited. However, after a brief conversation with Muhterem, Kemal realised that the boy was aware of his situation and did not wish to change it. Consequently, Kemal opted not to offer advice but to seek understanding, recognising that this was key to respecting this young person.

Indeed, children confided in him to such an extent that they shared their personal experiences, from being harassed to stealing and being chased by the police. Kemal noted that children reciprocated the friendship and closeness he showed them, establishing meaningful connections. So much so that when the interviews ended, some children expressed sadness at the thought of not seeing him again, as Kemal described: “I was involved with them” (Kemal, 2018: 34). It was the depth of Kemal’s engagement with the children that fostered their connection.

The children’s interest in Kemal’s friendship and interviews was evident. For instance, an episode involving a boy whom Kemal had not yet interviewed effectively illustrates the success of his techniques in approaching children, listening to them, and forming close relationships. After a long hesitation to approach Kemal, the boy finally exclaimed, “It struck a raw nerve when you didn’t ask about my past! Damn it, I thought to myself, am I not a human being? Sabo [his friend that Kemal had interviewed] is a human being, but am I not?” (Kemal, 2018: 231).

At the same time, he was aware that building a true peer friendship was not possible due to the differences in age and body size (Corsaro, 1997). He was deeply reflexive of his position, as Davis (1998) later argued that reflexivity should be integral to the research process with children, where researchers critically examine their role. He reflected on this through an expression he heard from a child talking about him:

“Brother, Ali, brother, come on, wake up, look, our friend is here.” There was a hint of mockery in the child’s voice. “Oh, look who’s here!” Kemal wondered why he was being mocked by being called “our friend.” Couldn’t he genuinely be their friend? He questioned this uncertainty: “I couldn’t, could I? Metin knew this. This seasoned boy surely understood that I couldn’t be their friend under these conditions and at this age. Perhaps that’s why he smirked when he called me a friend. Isn’t that so?” (Kemal, 2018: 231).

Kemal was also highly aware of the ethical considerations involved in conducting research with children. He took great care to anonymise their identities to safeguard their privacy, stating, “I changed their names and did not take any photographs. Even when they wanted me to, I did not take any.” (Kemal, 2018: 25). He narrates an episode with boy: “For example, there was a 15-year-old who is a notorious pickpocket. He begged me to write his name down. I told him I couldn’t. You can sit down and write your own life story or ask someone else to write it for you, but I can’t reveal your name in this interview.” (Kemal, 2018: 25).

In giving pseudonyms to children, Kemal consulted to children themselves. This served as a meaningful way to acknowledge their agency and advocate for his approach of conducting research with children rather than on children (Christensen and James, 2017). He explained this as “I gave each child a new name, and I named them in collaboration with them.” By way of example, he shared an anecdote about a boy from the South who thoughtfully chose the name “Garip” for himself, which means “orphaned” or “odd” in Turkish. Another child pleaded with him to use his real name and document his life adventures verbatim. However, after careful consideration of which name would best suit the boy’s character, Kemal decided to call him “Oğuz” in his writings. Another child expressed frustration about the necessity of using different names for his friend, insisting that no other name could possibly fit him. Unable to come up with an alternative, they ultimately agreed to refer to him as “that child” (Kemal, 2018: 178).

Kemal was attentive to children’s consent before using their life stories in his writings, especially because they often shared personal secrets with him. For instance, Zilo told him a particular experience and she firmly requested that he keep it confidential. Although Kemal believed the information was not inherently sensitive and that Zilo would never see his work, he respected her request not to disclose it, stating that he would never share what she confided in him.

Sociological advances in children’s fiction by Kemal

Having explored the commonalities between sociological research and Yaşar Kemal’s works, as well as his contributions to the sociological studies of childhood, I propose examining his literary writings—rooted in his interviews with children—as a form of sociological fiction. Watson (2022) defines sociological fiction as a genre of literary fiction that conveys sociological meaning and fosters public engagement. This form of storytelling links research with fictional narratives, offering authors a creative way to connect with audiences and convey their sociologically significant findings.

Kemal skilfully brought the voices of the children he interviewed to the public through his fiction. He wrote several novels and stories based on these interviews, capturing the essence of each child’s experience. His insights have laid the foundation for his novel series Kimsecik (Kemal, 1980, 1985, 1991) and the story collection Allah’ın Askerleri (Kemal, [1978] 2020). He expressed his commitment to write about children and young people’s lived experiences. His research-based writings have been engaging broader audiences through a sociological literary craft.

The characteristics of his writing in these pieces share clear similarities with the genre of sociological fiction. He primarily drew on his systematic participant observation and interviews, presenting them as fictional narratives in his texts. Thinking of Kemal’s research-based works as sociological fiction helps recognise his creative contributions to childhood studies, elevating these pieces as vital documentation of childhood experiences and invaluable resources for childhood researchers. They enrich the limited archive of children’s voices, particularly those from minority and marginalised groups, such as children living in the streets, advancing our understanding and knowledge of researching with children.

By way of example, these excerpts clearly demonstrate how Kemal’s writings scrutinise the social significance of ordinary childhood experiences through his distinctive literary voice. In this story, Kemal focuses on Oğuz, a boy who lived in a state orphanage until he was sent out to work. In Kemal’s writing, Oğuz’s everyday routine and play become a lens for understanding social problems and interactions. Oğuz, having faced much unfairness while navigating working life at a young age, from selling newspapers to apprenticing as a shoemaker, finds solace in playing marbles and soon becomes remarkably skilled at it:

Playing marbles and winning is a dizzying delight. There is truly nothing in the world above playing marbles. And marbles are beautiful. There are all kinds of marbles. Marbles, that is, bilye. . . Why do they call bilye “misket” in Istanbul, I don’t know, there must be some reason. I asked Oğuz, perhaps the greatest, the most skilled, the most talented marble player in all of Istanbul, and he doesn’t know either why they call it misket. If I had asked one or two more people, perhaps they would have known. But once Oğuz didn’t know, I felt no need to ask anyone else. If such a marble player does not know, with such unmatched mastery. . . (Kemal, [1978] 2020: 87).

As narrator and researcher, Kemal notices, questions, and interprets the social knowledge and practices embedded in Oğuz’s daily life. While narrating seemingly mundane activities, Kemal reveals the significance of play as a site of social learning and identity formation. The excited and almost fantastical tone of his voice draws the reader closer to children’s worlds. Sociological fiction often foregrounds such social patterns drawing on a social research method through fictionalised storytelling, and in this respect, Kemal’s work can be read as sociological fiction. His reflexivity mirrors ethnographic observation coupled with face-to-face interviews with children. Moreover, his choice not to consult anyone beyond Oğuz and to take Oğuz’s words as the most valid, signals Kemal’s approach to interacting with children, treating them seriously and valuing them as full human beings.

Similarly, in the following excerpt, Kemal recounts what he heard from Metin: the story of Selim, a tiny boy with a vast world of hardships, living on the streets, driven by his fears, navigating daily challenges through deception and petty theft, and blurring the line between dream and reality in the way he talks:

They told me such stories about Selim that I was left astonished. How can a person live through so many events at such an age? How can fear drive someone so far, at such a young age? They say the police could catch anyone in the world, even Pire Memed, but when it came to Selim, fffft, viz-zo, they couldn’t even get close to him. Metin says, Selim will die soon. No heart can endure such speed, such fear, he says. Metin says, if Selim does survive, he’ll be the fiercest of men, the sultan of this great Istanbul. And he says it with his hand placed on the Quran. (Kemal, [1978] 2020: 162).

Kemal’s writing carries elements of reportage, with the attentiveness of a journalist; systematic inquiry, like that of a qualitative social scientist; and fictional storytelling, as a literary author. In this way, he obscures the boundary between fiction and sociological observation, producing what can be called a sociological fiction. The description of Selim’s extraordinary endurance and Metin’s framing of his fate through the Qur’an connect personal struggle with broader cultural and institutional forces. What emerges is not simply a social account but a literary exploration of how social conditions at the time marked young lives. Kemal thus employs fiction to convey sociological insight, showing the reader how childhood and youth are deeply embedded in social and political conditions and norms.

Furthermore, Kemal’s approach to children’s literature mirrors his unique attitude towards children themselves. He views the categorisation of “literature for children” as an expression of undermining their agency, stating, “I don’t believe in children’s literature. Children’s literature in the world emerged by belittling children, by treating them as mere children” (Kemal, 2018: 21).

Kemal’s readers encompass both children and adults. He believed that wholesome literature understood by adults could also be grasped by children; he only aimed to write in a simpler and less complex style for younger audiences. He explained that parents typically buy books for their children only if they are classified as children’s literature; otherwise, they may not permit their children to read his other works. As a result, he labelled some of his writings as children’s literature to align with this parental perspective, making them accessible to children. Therefore, his sociological fiction is distinctive in its consideration of children as readers, moving from children and young people as human becomings to children and young people as human beings in a sociologically significant composition.

Concluding remarks

Publicly known as a journalist and literary author, can Yaşar Kemal also be considered a social researcher, ethnographer, childhood sociologist, or a writer of sociological fiction? In this analysis, I have highlighted the value of examining his research techniques with children and his fictional works through the lens of childhood studies and sociological fiction. This perspective has allowed to uncover and appreciate the broader contributions of his style and works to these disciplines that remain relevant.

Kemal’s storytelling, deeply embedded in Türkiye’s socio-political realities at the time, foregrounds children’s voices from marginalised backgrounds—such as those living on the streets or in institutional care. He demonstrates these children’s agency to make a living on their own, cope with difficulties of street life. In doing so, he expands the scope of childhood studies beyond Western models of socialisation, education, and family structures, contributing to more nuanced understandings of childhood situated in contextually specific social conditions. He argues that children are not passive recipients of adult care or social policy, but human beings with their own problems, strategies, and perspectives.

Kemal’s approach to interviewing with children and his literary writing showcases a wide range of sensitivities he employed throughout various aspects of social research. This spans from preliminary fieldwork before interviewing children to finalising research and producing publications. His insights and techniques are particularly significant, especially given the limited research conducted with socially disadvantaged groups that have historically been marginalised, ignored, and excluded. Furthermore, the challenges in reaching and connecting with these children—who often lead unstable and mobile lifestyles and come from difficult backgrounds, such as being evicted from their homes—underscore the importance of his work. His interviews with children are not just data-gathering exercises but also children actively contribute to the narrative, enrich contexts of encounters. This aligns with contemporary participatory ethnographic methods that seek to decentralise the researcher’s authority and recognise the co-construction of knowledge.

Moreover, by putting the sociology of childhood mottos into dialogue with quotes from Kemal’s interviews, I have highlighted Kemal’s early contributions to the field—predating its establishment in the Western world. This approach challenges the Western-dominance in defining and sourcing knowledge in the social sciences. The paper further calls on scholars to recognise the contributions of both academic and non-academic figures from the majority world as part of a broader effort to enhance inclusivity and decolonise the Western-centric orientation of academia in knowledge production.

Kemal passed away in 2015, leaving behind a remarkable legacy that childhood scholars continue to cherish and celebrate. By merging participant observation with literary storytelling, Kemal’s work stands as an early example of what might now be sociological fiction, one allows children’s experiences to contribute to the narrative structure itself through Kemal’s own literary skill set. Given the limited scholarly and literary interest in children during his time, particularly in 1970s, he urged other authors and thinkers to engage with children and address their issues, believing that such efforts could help save a part of the world (Kemal, 2018: 25). He advocated for approaching children with kindness and humanity, emphasising the importance of understanding their perspectives.

There are certain limitations to this paper’s discussion, particularly regarding the consideration of Kemal’s works within the framework of conventional social research as well as the scope of this study. Firstly, while the paper suggests that Kemal’s approach aligns with that of a social researcher, Kemal identified primarily as a columnist, journalist, and literary author. He stated that his research was driven by personal curiosity.

In his interviews, he emphasised the ethical considerations he carefully applied. However, there is no indication in his book, of having obtained formal ethics approval from a university in the conventional sense. Nevertheless, for the series of interviews and participant observations for both his journalistic columns and fictional writing, he mentioned that he was granted the necessary permissions to speak with children in institutional contexts, such as the Children’s Bureau.

Finally, this paper draws exclusively on the book Çocuklar İnsandır, that includes Kemal’s interviews with children, his observational notes, and an interview in which he discusses his research. A more in-depth analysis, particularly a discourse analysis of his novels featuring child protagonists through the conceptual framework of childhood studies, is needed for a comprehensive discussion of his wider contributions to childhood studies through fiction.

Literary writing was central to Kemal’s way of narrating his observations and interview data with children. Therefore, I would like to conclude this paper in his spirit, giving space to his literary voice in his longitudinal observational conclusion: “Shall I tell you one more thing? Children are human beings” (Kemal, 2018 [1975]: 52).