In 1899, Charles H. Duell, the commissioner of the United States Patent and Trademark Office, famously remarked: "Everything that can be invented has been invented."

This phrase, often misunderstood as a declaration of the end of innovation, was actually a humorous nod to the ongoing evolution and improvement of inventions during a period of rapid innovation and frequent patent applications, highlighting the enduring presence of fresh ideas as technology advances.

History has consistently shown that human innovation and discovery continue to advance, and new possibilities are constantly explored and developed.

Duell’s statement, often cited as a flawed example, serves as a reminder that innovation is an ongoing process and that human creativity knows no bounds. Moreover, inherent to the nature of things, there will always be a forward trajectory.

If something continues to exist, it can only make true progress; the most fundamental aspect of evolutionary existence is manifested best in the survival of the fittest principle. The paranoia surrounding the evils of today stemming from the utterly pessimistic yet widespread attitude is fundamentally flawed – especially considering humanity’s past ups and downs and its inherent tendency to move forward.

Today, we inhabit a world that would have been beyond Duell’s imagination in his time. We have "thinking" robots like Sophia and "writing" artificial intelligence programs like ChatGPT. Even the simplest issues, such as fatal sleeping accidents while babies co-sleep with parents, which used to be one of the major causes of infant mortality in the 19th century, or newborns succumbing to hygiene-related problems, are no longer a big concern.

Tomorrow, we may find ourselves in a world that even a visionary like Elon Musk could not have foreseen.

It’s a certainty that we wake up to a world that is "more advanced" in many ways every day. Can we apply the same creativity? Considering the true meaning of this often-misunderstood sentence by Mr. Duell, I say, why not?

Of course, many do not share my viewpoint. Take, for instance, Batuhan Takış, the managing editor of this very newspaper.

In his recent article, "Welcome to the post-greatness era," Takış contends that despite our longer lifespans, increased knowledge, advanced technology and artificial intelligence, we seem to fall short in creating extraordinary accomplishments in the 21st century. He said that the era of producing exceptional masterpieces, Magnum opuses, celebrated for generations, has ended, and he attributes this shift to a set of highly valid factors.

However, the limits that Takış talks about in his piece are just obstacles to overcome on the path to literary greatness. Many writers, poets and playwrights have overcome similar obstacles and achieved great successes that had been deemed unattainable; nevertheless, Shakespeare did not back down from writing "Hamlet" over fears that he could be yet another forgettable playwright. He knew that there was something rotten in the kingdom of Denmark and he did not stop himself from telling the truth – with his distinctive eloquence.

The root cause for humanity’s tendency to create new and groundbreaking artifacts is its imagination and its capability of imagination. What really makes humans different from all other living beings is their ability to have abstract thoughts. As abstraction is an infinite domain in itself, there can be no perceivable limit to human imagination and artistic creation.

Authenticity or intertextuality?

In addition to all of those, I believe that in its dismantling of established norms, postmodernism has indeed strengthened humanity’s boundless imagination and creative impulse. However, it’s worth noting that not everyone shares this perspective.

For instance, our Culture and Arts editor, Buse Keskin, contends that authenticity has lost its essence. In her article, "Death of Authenticity and Why I can't Bear It Anymore," Keskin metaphorically underscores the notion that "the era of social media has disrupted integrity," particularly lamenting the mindless sharing of identical music tracks on platforms like Instagram without an understanding of their significance. Describing our current age as the "era of uniformity," Keskin poetically expresses her sentiments using a metaphor of John Sartre’s "nausea."

Since we’ve broached this topic, it becomes imperative to delve into the concept of originality.

In his novel "Postscript to the Name of the Rose," the Italian author Umberto Eco posits, "Thus I rediscovered what writers have always known (and have told us again and again): books always speak of other books, and every story tells a story that has already been told."

The prominent director Quentin Tarantino once remarked: "I steal from every single movie ever made. If my work has any merit, it’s in how I blend elements from various sources."

With this perspective in mind, let’s explore the dichotomy between originality and unoriginality.

I share a particular viewpoint with post-modernists: the notion that no absolute originality exists in the realm of art. In fact, especially within the realm of artistry, copies and reinterpretations are the very essence of artistic creation.

The concept of true originality has never truly existed. Everything we encounter today – be it stories, films, books or even the content flooding social media – is essentially a reconfiguration of existing material. This reconfiguration involves cleverly amalgamating these elements in unique ways or, conversely, crafting them in opposition to the source material. It’s akin to each thesis engendering its own antithesis, yielding a continual cycle of reinvention. Crucially, the key lies in presenting this amalgamation or opposition in a distinct and personal form.

Indeed, social media is rife with instances where individuals emulate the work of others. However, even an individual who does not "create" something entirely novel will, over time, curate disparate elements into fresh and distinct content.

Absolute uniqueness remains an elusive ideal. Postmodernism has effectively deconstructed the traditional notions of originality and authenticity, giving rise to the concept of intertextuality. In this paradigm, an artist infuses their own interpretation into the textual material they have received, thereby shaping and enriching the narrative landscape.

In reality, many famous authors and scientists have celebrated the boundless potential for discovery and innovation throughout history rather than suggesting that it has ended. They have embraced the idea that there are always new frontiers to explore in science, literature and creativity. And "unoriginality" has been a recurring theme in literary history. In this context, I believe it’s more pertinent to shift our focus from the concept of originality to what, in my opinion, can be better described as frailty. This shift is essential because, akin to the principle of "survival of the fittest" in Darwin’s evolutionary theory, it was the weaker creative endeavors that faded away, leaving behind a legacy of magnum opuses and "genuine" works. Much like Keskin’s critique of contemporary trends, these feeble elements will likewise dissolve within the flow of history, leaving only the robust and magnum opuses that will continue to resonate with future generations.

‘You’ll do anything remarkable’

Lastly, I’d like to touch upon a YouTube video I recently watched titled "You Will Never Do Anything Remarkable." Despite the seemingly negative connotation of the title, it serves as a source of inspiration. It provides insight into the emotions we grapple with in the existential crises that our contemporary age frequently brings about.

In the video’s opening, there’s a statement: "History is full of wonderful and great oddballs, many of whom we have forgotten. And none of them are you because you’ll never do anything remarkable with your life. Sorry ... about that."

As the video progresses, it raises a question: "What makes a great person of history?" Is it being born at the right time and place? Having good parents? Perhaps a bit of greatness? Yes, this is impossible because there is no such thing as greatness.

Throughout history, numerous individuals have taken action and made discoveries or created masterpieces. They stumbled upon the initial versions of today’s more intricate tools, and in many cases, we don’t even recognize their names, or if we do, they are only familiar to specific circles. I would wager that these individuals didn’t have a damn clue about what they would accomplish.

If they knew the challenges ahead, they might never have ventured forth. This is because most of them never received the recognition they deserved during their lifetimes. The majority remained obscure, and sadly, a significant portion endured the sting of humiliation.

Long story short, as far as art or innovation goes, the world is anarchy, and while you may have convinced yourself that there’s no point trying to do anything groundbreaking or novel because someone has done it better already, obviously, the greats that you respect had the same doubts and they pushed through it anyway.

In my opinion, pessimism is the plague of our era: It not only prevents us from creating but also makes the very thought of it daunting. Notions like the impossibility of creating new masterpieces and the demise of authenticity, though not necessarily malevolent, cast a negative shadow over the creative journey.

Humanity will always engage in creation as long as it continues to exist. Years later, upon reflection, we may discover that even works from our own era, which were once overlooked and underestimated, hold significant value. There will inevitably be individuals who claim that there is nothing new left to create, echoing statements like "it’s all been done before" and "there’s nothing new under the sun."

If an artist, writer, scientist or anyone is driven to create, they will create. Perhaps distractions may occur, but they can never fully halt the creative process. That work will invariably come into being, and that discovery will inevitably be made. It might not garner immediate appreciation; perhaps no one will read it, or it could even face criticism. Nevertheless, these challenges should never deter us from pursuing our creative endeavors.

It may be helpful to remember the words of Brian from "Family Guy" about his book: "Not everybody will get that. That’s just for the scholars 100 years from now."