Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
Hours before parliament’s “National Solidarity, Brotherhood and Democracy Commission” was to listen to the views of mothers whose children were lost to PKK or state violence, a white Renault 12 Toros — long remembered as a symbol of Turkey’s unsolved killings in the 1990s — was set on fire at Parliament’s Çankaya gate.
Some Turkish words are as sharp and clear as a gleam of a knife. Others confuse you. Yakışır is a particular gem in the latter category. Literally, it means “befitting” or “suits well.” But intonation does all the heavy lifting here. With a twinkle in the eye, yakışır becomes high praise: a friend gets a long-deserved promotion? “Yakışır!” A suave female CEO in her sixties starts dating a younger man with abs and ambition? “Yakışır vallahi!” But delivered with a dry brow and pursed lips, the very same yakışır morphs into biting derision, the sort you might lob at a corrupt bureaucrat who gets caught rigging tenders again or the son of one of the president’s close allies landing an ambassadorial job.
The name of Beşir Atalay, a founding member of the ruling AKP and a former interior minister, has been removed from a university campus in Kırıkkale, causing controversy within the party.
Although NATO remains the cornerstone of Turkey’s security architecture and the European Union still accounts for roughly half of its foreign trade, Ankara’s relationship with Beijing has become increasingly complex, strategic, and — in many respects — inevitable.
Before Twitter, there was the tellal: the Ottoman town crier. Walking and shouting past the wooden houses of the empire, he announced fermans (imperial edicts), grain prices, and fresh recruitments for the wars to come. Among these more theatrical criers was the felaket tellalı—literally, “disaster crier.” Think of him as a roaming mashup of breaking news, folk panic, and your neighbourhood uncle who thinks every cloud means war.
Altan Öymen passed away this week at the age of 93. Throughout his long life, he always carried two umbrellas—journalism and politics. He journeyed nearly 75 years under both. One could have said “he wore two hats,” but “umbrella” suits Altan Öymen’s life better. A hat is for one person alone; an umbrella is something under which many can take shelter, from the sun and rain. That’s why Öymen chose not hats, but umbrellas. And under his umbrella, there was always room for more than just himself.
The German government has dropped its veto on the sale of 40 Eurofighter Typhoon jets to Turkey, thanks to the requests of the Turkish opposition, claimed Özgür Özel, the head of the CHP. While Berlin has been dragging its feet on talks for the warplanes, which are built by a consortium of Germany, Britain, Italy, and Spain, a news report suggested in April that the German government had decided to keep blocking the sale due to the arrest of Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu on March 19. While such a decision was never officially confirmed, İmamoğlu tweeted from his prison cell, objecting to the veto and Özel kept the issue on the agenda during talks with his German counterparts.
Hopeful for the disarmament of the PKK after the ceremonial burning of arms, the Turkish government is observing developments on the ground while efforts to establish a commission in the parliament look set to drag into next week. Parliament Speaker Numan Kurtulmuş visited MHP and CHP chairs, but the commission’s structure and name were not finalized. Now, he is expected to meet once again with the parliamentary group deputy chairs. The meeting, initially planned for July 25 is expected to be postponed to July 28 at the earliest. After the framework is set, commission members will be appointed. While the head of Turkish intelligence, İbrahim Kalın, toured all the party groups in the parliament, the media tracked a tempest in a teapot after MHP Chair Devlet Bahçeli confirmed reports that he proposed appointing two vice presidents—one Kurdish and one Alevi.
Amid renewed calls for unity during the ongoing peace efforts with the PKK, and following President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s recent emphasis on solidarity among Turks, Kurds, and Arabs, MHP Chair Devlet Bahçeli has confirmed reports that he proposed appointing two vice presidents—one Kurdish and one Alevi—in a closed-door party meeting.
As the crackdown on CHP municipalities deepened with the detention of even private drivers, the party has remained defiant—pressing forward with rallies, contesting disinformation, visiting imprisoned members, and calling for early elections, which it frames as a fight against a “civilian coup.”
All eyes are on Sulaymaniyah in northern Iraq, where the first group of PKK members is set to disarm on July 11 — the organization’s first act of disarmament since its founding nearly 50 years ago. This symbolic ceremony follows the PKK’s May 12 announcement of its decision to disband. Depending on when subscribers opt to read this issue, the footage may have already surfaced.
I had every intention of writing about düğün/wedding this week. Who could resist, after all, the cinematic absurdity of Jeff Bezos’s Venetian wedding extravaganza? It was the sort of wedding you'd rage over for its sheer insouciance over war, poverty, and environmental concerns: a three-day floating carnival of tuxedoed billionaires, Brazilian butts and a $2,000 bottle of tequila airlifted across continents because, apparently, Venice no longer has liquor stores. The bride wore archival Dolce & Gabbana; Ivanka looked pretty in pink and a German-Turkish Bezos lookalike desperately wanted to meet the couple and present a wedding gift. I was far too ready to bitch about arrogant extravagance and muse on Turkish weddings, those long, loud, gold-pinned affairs where uncles compete in folkloric footwork and everyone pretends the damat's family is not agonizing over the costs…