Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
In Turkish, çocuk simply means “child” — a small, willful person who believes the world should bend to their will. But in political life, çocuk is more than a noun: it is a litmus test. Unlike evlat, the solemn, Arabic-rooted term for “offspring,” çocuk suggests an individual, complete in themselves, not just a branch on a family tree. No surprise, then, that the AKP prefers evlat — a word that keeps people firmly tethered to family, lineage, and duty.
t has been seven months since MHP Chair Devlet Bahçeli extended a hand to DEM Party members, and two months since PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan called on his organization to lay down arms. The PKK, which announced it would comply with the call, made its first request for Öcalan to be allowed to communicate with the organization in order to hold a dissolution congress. However, no concrete progress has been made on this request, which requires government action. This has led some to ask if the process is stalling or whether there is a problem between the AKP and the MHP.
In Turkish politics, few words are as loaded—or as likely to provoke presidential rage—as “cunta.” From its etymological roots in the Spanish resistance to Napoleonic rule (junta, meaning a council), cunta has acquired a sinister sheen along the way. Today, it conjures images not of patriotic committees, but of tanks on boulevards, generals behind microphones, and constitutions suspended by decree (Bet you’ve heard that last one before). So when CHP Chair Özgür Özel recently accused the ruling bloc of staging a “civilian coup”—sivil darbe—and likened the government's tightening grip to a junta mentality, it landed like a Molotov cocktail in Turkey’s ever-combustible political arena.
In contrast to Finance Minister Mehmet Şimşek’s positive messages following the EU - Turkey High-Level Economic Dialogue, the meeting, which took place after a six-year hiatus, ended without a substantial road map to revive relations. As developments in transatlantic relations appeared to be raising Turkey’s value as a geostrategic asset, Ankara hoped to seize the opportunity to improve relations with the EU. Yet, European enthusiasm towards Turkey’s military strength remained limited, while the arrest of Istanbul's Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu has made life difficult for those favoring a speedier rapprochement.
Every time Turkey takes a big step backward and away from democratic rule, those familiar with Turkish-EU relations tend to also blame the Merkel-Sarkozy duo, who reined back Turkey’s accession talks in the mid-2000s at a time when the AKP was undertaking sweeping reforms to reach universal standards. It was the most serious and bitter wake-up call for those who still had faith in European values, that no matter what Turkey would do, it would never be considered a member of the European family, despite its NATO and Council of Europe membership.
As you drive from Yerevan to the Turkish border, which takes approximately 50 minutes, the stunning view of Mount Ararat becomes clearer. It goes without saying that if Mount Ararat were a human being, its face would be looking toward Armenia while its back would be toward Turkey.
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.
The phrase of the moment in Turkey is “abesle iştigal,” the very expression that the country’s word-savvy Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan used to dismiss U.S. President Donald Trump’s plan to "take over Gaza" and transform it into the “Riviera of the Middle East.” In the colorful mosaic of Turkish, “abesle iştigal” conveys the sheer futility of engaging in pointless endeavors. The expression is even featured in Lûgat365, a project dedicated to preserving beautiful but near-forgotten words in Turkish.
When a Canadian camera was found in a downed Turkish drone in the war in Nagorno Karabakh, the Canadian government canceled the product’s export permit in April 2021. “The use of technology in this way is inconsistent with Canada’s foreign policy and Turkey’s end-user commitments,” said the country’s then-foreign minister.
Turkey, a major fossil fuel importer, will walk a fine line as Donald Trump’s return to the presidency sees the U.S. reviving its “energy dominance” policy—a policy widely anticipated to disrupt global energy dynamics. Characterized by ramping up fossil fuel production and expanding energy exports, the restored agenda, now under the new Energy Secretary Chris Wright, a prominent figure in the petroleum industry, will double down on fossil fuels, reversing the Biden administration’s renewable energy priorities.
The political and military cooperation between Turkey and Israel in the 1990s benefited both in terms of their relations with Syria. Following Turkey’s threat to use force, Syrian then-President Hafez Al-Assad decided to end his policy of providing safe haven to PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan.
The term “arabesk” (arabesque) originates from the Italian “arabesco,” (“in the Arabic style,”) initially describing ornate patterns featuring interlacing foliage and geometric designs. In Turkey, however, “arabesk” evolved beyond its artistic origins to signify a deeply emotive genre of music that emerged in the 1960s, blending Middle Eastern melodies with themes of longing, despair, and resilience.