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.
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.
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.”
Kumar (Gambling, noun) derives from Arabic and is forbidden in Islam, as spelled out in Surah al-Maidah of the Quran, where gambling is condemned alongside wine and idolatry. The aim? To incite enmity, foster distraction, and veer Muslims away from prayer. Fast forward to modern-day, secular Turkey, where gambling has made headlines once more. This time, TV personality Mehmet Ali Erbil and pop singer Serdar Ortaç, notorious for their sketchy reputations, were busted for illegal betting. The outcome? House arrest—a promising move for Erbil, an alleged serial harasser.
İmam nikahı, or dini nikah (religious wedding), has long been a battleground for women’s rights activists who strongly oppose religious marriage and support strict penalties for imams and muftis (Muslim clergy) who conduct religious unions without first ensuring that the couple has undergone a civil ceremony. Turkey’s laws on marriage are regulated by the 1926 Civil Code, which abolished polygamy, introduced civil marriage, and mandated that any religious ceremony—should citizens of the newly established secular state choose to hold one—must follow civil registration in a municipal office. In villages, chieftains (elected officials) conduct the ceremony, while consular officers perform civil ceremonies for Turks abroad. Under the 1926 laws, religious officers—whether imams, priests, or rabbis in Turkey’s multi-faith society— had no authority to perform official weddings, as they cannot verify the legal requirements, such as the age of the would-be spouses or whether they are already married.