Mahfi Hoca wrote for those who mocked him by saying "There were queues in old Türkiye"!

Mahfi Eğilmez, one of Türkiye's most prominent economists, wrote an article titled "There Were Queues in the Old Türkiye" on his blog. He addressed those who mocked the foreign currency shortage and long queues experienced in Türkiye in 1978, explaining the importance of merit by writing about a memory of the late Prime Minister of the time, Bülent Ecevit.

Mahfi Hodja stated the following in his article:

"It was 1978. It was a difficult time: The country was suffering from a foreign currency shortage, and queues for scarce goods were long in front of every grocery store and market.

I was writing a report from an inspection mission I'd just completed. The phone rang, and the Chairman of the Inspection Board demanded I rush to him. At the time, the Ministry of Finance was located in Ulus, in the former Prime Ministry building, and I was working in my office on Mithatpaşa Street, a floor of which had been rented to inspectors. I immediately took a taxi and went. The Chairman handed me a letter with his signature at the bottom, with my name written at the top. On the right side of the paper was the word "Confidential." I read the letter: "I kindly request that the investigations requested in the enclosed letter be conducted by you." Attached to the letter was another letter signed by Prime Minister Bülent Ecevit. This letter, addressed to the Ministry of Finance, was also marked "Confidential." The letter mentioned reports of corruption related to various procurement and tender transactions at the Undersecretariat of Land and Agricultural Reform and requested that the Undersecretariat's transactions be examined by financial inspectors and, if necessary, launched an investigation. Despite having written it to a subordinate, Ecevit concluded the letter with "I submit." Within the government, who should submit a request to whom was as important as the original issue itself. There was even a regulation for this. It was quite interesting that the Prime Minister would end a letter to a minister under his command with "I submit." Although I was surprised, I didn't comment at that point. Ziya Müezzinoğlu was the Minister of Finance. He had referred the letter to the Finance Inspection Board, with the phrase "assignment of finance inspectors." The Inspection Board assigned the task to me and Toper Çağlayan.

We found no corruption or irregularities...

We immediately began our work. First, we reviewed the files at the undersecretariat's Ankara headquarters, then traveled to the Urfa region, where reform efforts are concentrated, to conduct on-site inspections. We examined tenders, purchases, and transfers within the framework of laws and regulations. Aside from minor deficiencies, we found no evidence of corruption or irregularities. After completing our investigations in Urfa, we returned to Ankara. This time, we reviewed all purchases, tenders, hirings, and approvals at the headquarters. Concluding that there was no corruption, as alleged, we wrote our report, concluding, "We have concluded that no action warrants an investigation," and submitted it to the inspection board. Our duties ended there. Toper Çağlayan and I returned to our other tasks.

The Prime Minister called us...

Two days passed, and while I was working in my office, the phone rang. The Chairman of the Inspection Board wanted me to come immediately. When I entered his office, he stood up and said, "The Minister is calling us. We'll go upstairs." I was surprised; normally, a minister wouldn't call an inspector, especially a young inspector like me. I asked, "What's the matter, sir?" He didn't know either. We went upstairs together and entered the minister's office. Ziya Bey was an extremely meticulous and strict man. He would never forgive the slightest mistake in government matters. When he saw us, he stood up and said, "The Prime Minister has called us. Follow me by car. We're going to the Prime Ministry." My surprise intensified. For the first time, I realized that this was related to the Undersecretariat of Land and Agricultural Reform's investigation. Ziya Bey was in the lead car (a Renault 12), and we in the car behind (also a Renault 12), and we set off one after the other for the Prime Ministry. At the time, austerity measures were being implemented, and everyone, from the highest executive to the lowest official, was adhering to them. More luxurious official cars were sold, and the proceeds were transferred to the Treasury. As we were driving, I said to the president, "I think this is related to our Undersecretariat of Land and Agricultural Reform report, sir." He said, "Yes, I think so too."

Ecevit saw us and stood up

When we arrived at the Prime Ministry, the private secretary took us to his office. Ziya Bey was in front, the president behind, and I followed in the back. Ecevit stood up when he saw us, walked past his desk, and stood before us, holding the file containing our report. I thought to myself, "I think we've reached the end of our time in office." Ecevit shook each of our hands and asked how we were. He opened the file, which was full of underlining and notes along the sides. After reading the last sentence of the report aloud, he turned to me: "You wrote this report with a friend, didn't you?" I asked. "Yes, sir," I said, a bit stuttered with surprise. "I congratulate you; you've made an objective assessment without being influenced by anything. I know this undersecretary; he's an honest man, but after receiving reports and complaints about him, I felt it necessary to commission an impartial investigation. You've done so in a truly impartial manner. Thank you," he said, then turned to Ziya Bey and said, "That's what fiscal inspectors are like; they make their assessments without being influenced by anything, as you know." Ziya Bey also confirmed this. He was also a former fiscal inspector. I later learned that Ecevit's father-in-law was also a former fiscal inspector (Namık Zeki Aral).

We asked permission and left. Ziya Bey congratulated me outside and left. We returned to the Ministry of Finance with the president. Later, I noticed Ecevit's correspondence; he concluded by saying, "I will submit all his correspondence." He did this to end unnecessary bureaucratic squabbles and to demonstrate the paramount importance of courtesy. Another thing I later learned was that the Undersecretary had been appointed by Demirel, and the People's Party members, despite Ecevit's refusal, wanted someone from the People's Party to be appointed instead. The report we wrote served as the basis for Ecevit's rejection of the party members' request.

I dedicate this memory from the old Turkey to those who ignored the difficulties and hardships of that period, the oil shocks and the heavy economic and financial embargoes imposed on Turkey after the Cyprus operation, which was carried out in defiance of the US, and to those who mocked them by saying "there were queues in the old Turkey" and who neglected the importance of merit.