Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
The PKK’s disarmament is set to begin, two months after the group announced its dissolution on May 12—marking the symbolic end of nearly half a century of armed conflict. Attention is now turning to Turkey’s Parliament, which political parties across the spectrum have identified as the proper venue to address the Kurdish issue.
“We’re from Adana, we’re God’s men.” If you ever visit Adana, you’ll hear this phrase—it’s on the lips of nearly every local. It’s like a common slogan, spoken across party lines, and always in the distinct Adana dialect. Adana Mayor Zeydan Karalar, arrested in this week’s wave of detentions targeting CHP municipalities, often uses this saying himself. He even printed posters featuring the phrase and released a video claiming it originated among troops from Adana during the 1915 Battle of Gallipoli.
After shaping Turkey’s Pravda-style media landscape as head of the Directorate of Communications since 2018, Fahrettin Altun has been appointed chair of the Human Rights and Equality Institution, a move that looks like a demotion.Deputy Foreign Minister Burhanettin Duran replaces Altun.
The Defense Ministry announced that 12 soldiers died on July 6 from methane gas during a search of a cave previously used as a hospital by the PKK in northern Iraq. Opposition parties called for a parliamentary commission to investigate whether the necessary precautions, including the use of gas masks and detectors, were taken when the soldiers entered the cave, but this proposal was rejected by AKP and MHP votes.
A new front has been opened in the judicial assault on the main opposition CHP, shifting the focus from Istanbul to the party’s stronghold in Izmir. The latest set of raids came as Izmir fought off forest fires and as the CHP prepared to hold a major rally in Saraçhane—home to Istanbul's Municipality—marking the 100th day of Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu’s pre-trial detention. They also followed hard on the heels of a court hearing that could have annulled the party’s 2023 congress.
The Hamas terror attacks on Oct. 7, 2023 gave Netanyahu a golden opportunity to eliminate Israel’s adversaries in the region.
Ali Koç is the president of Fenerbahçe, one of Turkey’s “big three” football clubs, alongside Galatasaray and Beşiktaş. Recently, he was seen eating baklava ahead of Fenerbahçe’s EuroLeague basketball final match in Abu Dhabi. Former minister and current ruling party MP Mustafa Varank was feeding him the baklava, which had been brought from Turkey. Varank said the baklava had been “prayed over,” to which Koç responded with an “amen.” In Turkey, when something is said to be “prayed over,” it means it has been blessed.
In Turkey’s grand narrative, Izmir is the perennial contrarian. While Ankara governs and Istanbul dazzles, Izmir lounges by the Aegean, sipping its coffee with a secular smirk. Affectionately dubbed “Güzel İzmir” (Beautiful Izmir) by admirers and “Gavur İzmir” (Infidel Izmir) by detractors, the city has long been a cultural outlier—a place where minarets share the skyline with bell towers, and where the sea breeze carries whispers of both rebellion and repose.
Say it with the right nasal twang — Lozann — and you’ll have unlocked the secret handshake of the Turkish political subconscious. Treaty of 1923. Not a historical detail but a question of national identity, psychological posture, and dinner-party risk assessment.
The great poet Nâzım Hikmet begins his epic poem The Epic of the War of Independence with the line, “We have seen fire and betrayal.” Ahmet Türk has stood at the very heart of politics for fifty years—right in the midst of what could only be called a political firestorm. What he has witnessed is a story of Turkey and the painful fortune of these lands.
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Bülent Arınç. Most recently, he stirred controversy with his criticism of the cancellation of Ekrem İmamoğlu’s diploma and his detention. “Neighborhood” has become a widely used concept that reflects the deep polarization in Turkish politics. There’s an “AKP neighborhood,” we say, and there’s an “opposition neighborhood.” But with his remarks, which carried a tone of self-criticism, Arınç managed to draw a backlash from both his own neighborhood and its direct opposite. For those who know him, Arınç’s remarks came as no surprise. Throughout the AKP’s 23 years in power, he has been one of the few — perhaps the only — figures to voice such open dissent from within. Why? He puts it this way: “I have a certain weight of my own. I’m not like the others.”