By Nazlan Ertan
In Turkish, ağır abi, literally “heavy-weight bro”—is not your run-of-the-mill elder sibling. He is a stoic, charismatic figure who commands respect with the mere arch of an eyebrow. He doesn’t talk much; he doesn’t need to. His presence alone does the heavy lifting. And if anyone currently embodies the essence of an ağır abi, it’s Hakan Fidan, Turkey’s inscrutable foreign minister.
Fidan, poker-faced and perpetually unruffled, has become the leading man in Turkey’s diplomatic theater, even overshadowing the usual stars, such as President Erdoğan and the minister of defense. He seized center stage after the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria, stepping up to the podium in Doha with all the composure of a man placing bets in a high-stakes poker game. His words called for an inclusive transition in Syria: “The new administration must be established in an orderly manner. There must never be a desire for revenge. It is time to unite and reconstruct the country.”
And, with a parting shot that no doubt made Washington sit up, he added, “As for us talking to the YPG”—Turkey’s shorthand for the pro-Kurdish groups in Syria—“they’ll have to change.” A message he will undoubtedly deliver again when he meets his American counterpart on Dec. 13.
THE MINISTER WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD
Before donning the mantle of foreign minister in 2023, Fidan served as the chief of Turkey’s National Intelligence Organization (MİT) for over a decade. He was the silent orchestrator of clandestine operations and talks with unlikely bedfellows - a man whose demeanor could give a locked diary an inferiority complex. Even during the chaos of the 2016 coup attempt—engineered by the Gulenist network, which had him in its crosshairs—Fidan remained unflappable, his loyalty to Erdoğan never wavering.
Since his transition from the shadows to the diplomatic spotlight, Fidan’s mystique has only grown. His style is a study in contrast: Gone is the cheesy chattiness of his predecessor, Mevlüt Çavuşoğlu, who alternated between joviality and temper tantrums behind closed doors. Fidan, by contrast, is a man of few but measured words—and even fewer smiles.
His tenure has also introduced a palpable air of security consciousness at the Foreign Ministry. Telegrams now circulate less freely; software updates keep communications tightly locked and diplomats think twice before talking to critical journos, even socially. As my colleague Barçın Yinanç has reported in Turkey in Depth, some diplomats, particularly those married to foreigners, grumble about heightened scrutiny as if they were suspected of slipping state secrets between the sheets. But others insist that Fidan’s pragmatism prevails: he values competence over ideology, mending bridges with professionals his predecessor had cast aside, even while simultaneously bringing in apparatchiks from MİT and pro-government think tanks.
KALLAS, KURDS AND CRACKS IN FACADE
Not everyone appreciates a man who treats small talk like an unnecessary luxury. “He doesn’t speak unless it’s absolutely necessary,” quipped one foreign diplomat. Fidan’s photos with visiting dignitaries are a masterclass in cool detachment, his expression as animated as a statue’s. But even the steeliest ağır abi has his moments.
At the height of the Syria crisis, Fidan met with Kaja Kallas, the EU’s new High Representative for Foreign Affairs, during a marathon of back-to-back meetings. In a rare departure from his trademark stoicism, the resulting photo captured him—gasp—smiling, one leg crossed over the other. Kallas, animated and clearly on a roll, seemed to have cracked the code, perhaps with some clever flattery about Turkey-EU relations. Whatever the magic formula, it was a reminder that even the iciest facade can melt under the right blonde sunlight.
But the mask slipped in a far less convivial setting this week. Fidan was addressing Parliament during the budgetary talks on Syria when pro-Kurdish DEM deputies interrupted, attempting to link the crisis to Turkey’s own Kurdish issue. That’s when Fidan, usually the epitome of composed gravitas, snapped: “To you, the whole of Syria is Kurdish, and the entirety of Kurds are from the PKK. Try to see the whole picture. This is a country where there are Druze, Arabs, Turks, Kurds, Alevites, and Sunnis. Stop being fixated on a single point.” Then came the fight over just who was “Kurdophobic” and suddenly, the top diplomat who called for “rationality,” turned red: “Stop the third world rhetoric and update [in English] yourself - what on earth is this attitude?” he chided, giving the glimpse of the fiery soldier that he must have been in his twenties. (Read more in the Foreign Affairs section of the newsletter)
In the labyrinthine world of Turkish politics, showing a flash of fire might not be a liability. If Fidan has ambitions to succeed Erdoğan, a little passion strategically displayed and a surly tone to a political opponent could go a long way.
For now, Hakan Fidan remains the man of the moment, wielding his ağır abi mystique on the world stage. Stoic yet strategic, aloof yet occasionally human, he is the top diplomat who came in from the cold—and stayed cool.
