Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
The informal meeting of NATO foreign ministers, which will take place in Antalya on May 14, will put the international spotlight on Turkey as it will be the first meeting attended by Western leaders after the arrest of the Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu on March 23.
The informal meeting of NATO foreign ministers, which will take place in Antalya on May 14, will put the international spotlight on Turkey as it will be the first meeting attended by Western leaders after the arrest of the Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu on March 23.
In the 1970s, Turkey was plagued by deadly street clashes that claimed at least 10 lives a day. One of the bloodiest moments came in 1977, when the May Day rally in Istanbul’s Taksim Square turned into a massacre after shots were fired into the crowd, killing over 30 people. The ongoing ban on May Day rallies in Taksim dates back to that tragedy. As the violence escalated, conventional media outlets repeatedly asked, “Where is Turkey heading?” The era came to a close with the military coup of September 12, 1980.
This section is reserved exclusively for registered users of our site. Our members have access to special content in this section that is not available to the general public. This content includes in-depth analyses, reports, and expert opinions. By becoming a member, you gain unlimited access to all the information on our site and enjoy a more privileged experience. Unfortunately, if you are not a member, you cannot access the content in this section.
In Turkish, “turp gibi” means “healthy as a horse'—literally, as fit as a turp/turnip. But this week, the humble vegetable shed its healthful connotations and marched into politics with muddy boots. At a raucous rally in Yozgat—where over a thousand farmers formed a tractor convoy in defiance of mounting government pressure—a farmer stood before the crowd and bellowed: “The country cannot be ruled with turnips and radishes. It is governed by justice and law” or rather, with the local accent, “A country cannae be ruled wi’ neeps an’ deeshes.”
“Those trying to undermine ties between Türkiye and the Turkic world through manipulation will not succeed,” Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan said finally, weeks, even months, after four Central Asian Republics accredited ambassadors to Greek Cyprus. While Ankara continues to argue for two separate states to solve the Cyprus issue, it remains unmoved by recent diplomatic setbacks.
In Turkish, “normal doğum” refers to vaginal birth. But the term itself is anything but neutral. By naming one method “normal,” it quietly casts others — cesareans in particular — as “abnormal”. For women who undergo C-sections, whether for medical reasons or out of their own choice, the implication is clear: you failed to deliver the “natural” way. In fact, a Health Ministry ran a public ad two years ago that did just that: in a clumsily-shot clip, a baby just delivered by vaginal birth tells the mother that they “succeeded.” The contested term has once again taken center stage — not in a hospital, but on a football pitch.
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.
The word of the week is—surprise, surprise—“boycott.” This word has its roots in Ireland but was readily adopted by the Ottoman Empire as “boykotaj” in the early 20th century. It all began with a stubborn man and a group of angry farmers. Charles Boycott, the eponymous land agent in 19th-century Ireland, refused to lower rents. In return, local tenants refused to acknowledge his existence—no violence, no slogans—just pure, icy silence. Labourers wouldn’t work his land, shopkeepers wouldn’t serve him, even the postman changed routes in what was the forefather of today’s cancel culture. Boycott became so isolated that his name turned into a verb.
The cancellation of the Istanbul mayor’s diploma, followed by his arrest, came two days after President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan spoke on the phone with U.S. President Donald Trump. For many, this was not a coincidence. This telephone conversation was underreported, according to Steve Witcoff. “Good news is coming from Turkey,” added Trump’s special envoy on March 22, when thousands had taken to the streets to protest the blatant assault against Turkish democracy.
“Devletin Başına Devlet Gelecek” (The State Will Have Devlet as Its Leader). Do we still remember this slogan? How many of us do? It was the most important slogan the MHP created for their leader, Devlet Bahçeli. It has been more than ten years, maybe even longer, since this slogan was last heard. Many have linked its disappearance to Bahçeli’s and, consequently, MHP’s strong and open support for President Erdoğan since 2016. That might be true, but it cannot be explained by this alone.
Turkish-Russian relations have their own dynamics. Yet, it goes without saying that Turkey’s relations with the West have always influenced them. The deterioration in relations with the West usually is followed by an improved relationship with Moscow and vice versa. But while Turkey’s relations with the West have taken a nosedive in the past decade, one cannot say Ankara and Moscow have been on a honeymoon during that period. Still, there is no doubt that the Kremlin has managed its relations with Ankara much better than the West managed its relationship with its ally Turkey.