By Nazlan Ertan
Halep (Aleppo, proper name) touches Turkish hearts, minds, imagination, language and, of course, the political rhetoric in a way few cities of the Ottoman Empire do. The southern jewel of the empire, the city has been a touchstone of trade, culture, and storytelling. But, as far as your cheeky columnist is concerned, its true linguistic value lies in being the punchline in one of Turkey’s wittiest sayings: “Halep oradaysa arşın burada”—“If Aleppo is there, the yardstick is here.”
This phrase is more than a geographic observation; it’s a challenge. Based on the oral tale of a man who claimed that back in his great days in Aleppo, he could leap just as high as one could imagine, it’s what you say to someone boasting about their impressive feats in far-off places. “Sure, we can no longer ask around in Aleppo,” it implies, “but let’s see how you measure up here, in the present, with evidence.” In other words, put up or shut up and do not expect us to be persuaded by tall tales.
Keyboard-happy Turks have been rephrasing the saying. “If Aleppo is there, the nationalist boasts are surely here,” they joke, after MHP Chair Devlet Bahçeli has said that the pulse of every red-hot Turk races when he hears the name of Aleppo, which is “Turkish and Muslim to the depths of its soul.” Like most remarks of Turkey’s nationalist-in-chief, it is a dramatic statement, but not surprising. Aleppo has long been more than a city to Turkish politicians; it’s a rallying cry and a geopolitical ambition.
But Bahçeli’s words might recall another idiom: “Halep akçe ile, arşın ölçü ile”- “Aleppo [functions] with coin, the yardstick with measure.” Just like the trade city is no good without some money in one’s pockets, bold talk must be backed by practicality. The city’s reconstruction and Turkey’s broader relationship with Syria must be in line with geopolitical and economic realities, not just nationalist fervor.
Yet, Turks’ affection for Aleppo goes beyond politics. The city lives on in Turkish hearts through its laurel-scented soaps (now part of the UNESCO Heritage), its gastronomic delights and its place in folk memory. As far as literature and linguistics go, it compares more favorably vis-à-vis Damascus. For example, “Ne Şam’ın şekeri, ne Arabın yüzü,” - “Neither the sweets of Damascus nor the face of the Arab,” sounds like a racist chant, but many interpret it as a put-down of Damascus, where both sweets and tradesmen are inferior to those of Aleppo, where Ottoman sultans send their cooks to learn the local cuisine and top tradesmen meet with not just Arab but Jewish and Armenian merchants. Another idiom, “Halep'te ye, Şam'da karnını doyur,” – “You eat in Aleppo, but merely feed yourself in Damascus,” also implies the superiority of the Aleppo cuisine. Worse for Damascus, the Turkish expression, “Şam Babası,” (“Damascus daddy”) simply means a father who takes no interest in his children – an attribution to the local rulers of the city who, out of sheer arrogance, never mixed with the public.
But what happens when much-loved Aleppo isn’t so much “there”? The Syrian civil war turned the city into a symbol of devastation and struggle, its bustling bazaars replaced by rubble over which different groups claim sovereignty. Also, apply the Aleppo-yardstick to the ties: Ankara’s arşın has wavered, and it seems that Bashar al-Assad, the man President Erdoğan first loved, then disliked, and now wants to talk to, is no longer there for the Turkish president when he wants to resume dialogue.
