Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
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.
In the rich tapestry of Turkish names, few are as paradoxical as 'Satılmış.' Literally translating to 'sold' or 'sell-out,' this name carries a weighty connotation that intertwines cultural beliefs, societal perceptions and individual destinies. In Anatolian traditions, giving newborns names like 'Satılmış' or the female version “Satı” is a protective measure. The name was traditionally bestowed upon children with the underlying belief that by symbolically 'selling' the child, parents could deceive malevolent spirits or fate, thereby safeguarding the child from harm or premature death. This practice reflects an interplay between language, belief systems, and cultural practices in Anatolian societies.
In Turkey, the word “yangın” (fire) has been a literal and metaphorical agent of change, leaving lasting marks on cities, culture, and society. Fires frequently serve as dramatic turning points in Turkish popular culture, from the 1960 film “Fire,” an Ottoman-era period piece in which the daughter of a pasha falls for a tulumbacı (Ottoman firefighter), to the modern TV series “Cranberry Sorbet,” which united estranged lovers after a tragic blaze. Adopting the usual satirical tone for the Word of the Week is impossible as the nation mourns after the Grand Kartal Hotel fire at the Kartalkaya ski resort in Bolu. The blaze, which began in the restaurant section and quickly engulfed the 12-story building, claimed at least 78 lives, including children on winter break, and injured 51 others.
Turkey cannot “design” Syria when others pay the money. The Turkish government lacks the financial resources to put Syria back on its feet. And time is of the essence because, if the new administration is slow in delivering stability, the already big challenges will become even bigger. “We don’t have the money, but we have the capacity,” said a Turkish diplomat. “We need to work for the right model in Syria and use our state capacity to provide our institutional support,” added the diplomat.
I had hoped to welcome 2025 with the word “umut”—hope—dear readers. Yet the somber mood of New Year’s Eve, when deserted streets echoed the gloom on Turkish television, has nudged me toward a more fitting phrase for the times: the 3Ys of Turkey. “Yoksulluk, Yolsuzluk, Yasaklar”- poverty, corruption, and prohibitions.
Two issues will be of priority in Turkish foreign policy in 2025: post-Assad Syria and the war in Ukraine. Both will be closely linked to the policy preferences of the U.S. President-elect Donald Trump. As the U.S. leader is expected to stop the war in Ukraine, Turkey will be watching his efforts closely and will seek a role to facilitate a reconciliation between Ukraine and Russia, and between Moscow and the West.
Silkelemek, or its shorthand version silkmek (shake-up, verb), carries energy, vigor, and occasionally a political punch. From its Ottoman roots to its modern interpretations, silkelemek has evolved into a word that shakes not only rugs and wrestlers but also bureaucracies, political rivals, and even dreams. At its core, silkelemek is a practical term. It conjures up vivid images of traditional housewives shaking rugs over balconies to rid them of dust. In Turkish dream interpretations, shaking a rug suggests a tranquil and orderly life, free of disruptions. It can also signify divine favor or answered prayers. Shake a rug off a balcony, and it symbolizes the achievement of long-pursued goals. Shake a dusty rug? Bid farewell to financial troubles. And if someone else shakes it for you? Expect wise decisions and peace of mind.
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.”
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.
President-elect Donald Trump’s return to the helm in Washington DC will certainly affect the future orientation of NATO and have implications for American-Turkish security perceptions. The first term was occasionally stormy as President Trump publicly blamed NATO allies over a number of concerns and even threatened to pull out of the alliance. This time, he is coming back stronger than ever. The number one guiding factor of Trump's foreign policy is purely America's interests and he was not happy with the Europeans' reliance on American forces and money.
Hats off to Yusuf Tekin, Turkey’s controversial education minister, for cramming all of Turkey’s thorny subjects into a single speech and creating a debate that drew in political party leaders, actresses, and laymen. It was a performance to steal the limelight from Trump, let alone Erdoğan himself. The Erzurum-born minister, who launched a controversial new curriculum last year, traveled from Baku to Batman, where he presents his education strategy to a large audience. On Nov. 17, he attended COP29 in Baku, where he explained how environmental awareness was now part of the Turkish education system. His critics would say he referred to the controversial project called CEDES, an acronym for “I protect my environment and claim my values.” The project does have an environmental focus, but it also has a “religious values” component under which local imams and preachers are assigned to each school in the project to provide spiritual guidance for students.
Maarif (Education, noun) is derived from the basal root Arf in Arabic, meaning knowledge. In the Ottoman Empire and early years of the Turkish Republic, the Education Ministry was called “Maarif Vekaleti.” In 1946, Maarif Vekaleti was rebaptized as “Milli Eğitim Bakanlığı,” using the modern Turkish word for both education and ministry and adding the term “national.”