By Nazlan Ertan
The word of the week is “ihtiyatlı iyimserlik,” literally, “cautious optimism.” A staple of diplomatic jargon, the phrase allows diplomats, speechwriters, and strategists to sound hopeful without making any actual commitment.
Last week alone, the term was trotted out as a reaction to the latest Damascus-SDF agreement, the ever-elusive prospect of a Ukraine-Russia ceasefire, and Syrian interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa’s pledge to establish an independent commission to bring those responsible for civilian killings in Latakia and Tartus to justice. And, yes, we are also cautiously optimistic about PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan’s calls to dissolve PKK and lay down arms, too.
Take the Damascus-SDF deal, signed on March 10, 2025, by Syrian interim President Ahmed al-Sharaa and SDF General Commander Mazloum Abdi. The eight-point memorandum lays out a framework for integrating northeastern Syria into the central state, including placing SDF-controlled institutions—border crossings, oil fields, local administrations—under Damascus’s authority. It also envisions merging the SDF into the Syrian Ministry of Defense, enforcing a nationwide ceasefire, and guaranteeing Kurdish political representation and citizenship rights.
On paper, it’s a breakthrough. In reality, the agreement may be a diplomatic placeholder, considering the new administration's recent actions—such as the exclusion of certain Kurdish factions from the national dialogue and the imposition of disarmament conditions. No wonder both Turkish government sources and Özgür Özel, the opposition leader, leaned on this exact phrase to describe it.
INŞALLAH OF DIPLOMACY
What does “cautious optimism” actually mean? Simply put, it’s diplomatic for: “I won’t rain on the parade just yet, but given the players, the trust deficit, and the graveyard of past deals, don’t expect me to hold my breath.” A journalist friend once called it a diplomat’s inshallah—the verbal equivalent of crossing your fingers. A diplomat, ever the defender of langue de bois, countered that it was a government’s way of signaling goodwill without appearing naive, clueless, or utterly detached from reality.
The phrase thrives in international affairs. Turkish diplomacy spent years declaring their “cautious optimism” about then-UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan’s Cyprus reunification plan as the tireless Annan churned out version after version. The result? Turkish Cypriots, who voted yes to the plan, remain politically and economically isolated, while Greek Cypriots, who voted no, are now EU members. So much for cautious optimism. After three decades of covering attempts to unite the divided island or to end the isolation of the Turkish Cypriots, my position—one I suspect is shared by the Turkish Foreign Ministry—has shifted to weary resignation.
VARIATIONS ON A THEME
France, ever one for reinvention, appears to be nudging the term toward something grander. At the 30th Ambassadors’ Conference on Jan. 7, 2025, French Foreign Minister Jean-Noël Barrot addressed the diplomatic corps in a speech that acknowledged 2025 as a year marked by crisis, conflict, and uncertainty. But rather than embrace mere cautious optimism, Barrot pushed for something more muscular: “optimisme de volonté”—an optimism of the will—insisting that realism should not lead to resignation, nor lucidity to defeatism.
Come to think of it, giving a policy the benefit of the doubt isn’t always the worst strategy. After all, the international community was never even cautiously optimistic about Trump’s grand vision for a “Middle East Riviera” in Gaza—which, to my Turkish ear, sounds suspiciously like Erdoğan’s Canal Istanbul: displace the locals, dress it up for the rich, and cash in. If anything, grandiose projects by Trump and Erdoğan should make us pessimistic due to their sheer recklessness.
