Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
A DEM Party delegation traveled to İmralı Island on Aug. 28 to meet with jailed PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan, the first visit since Parliament formed the National Solidarity, Brotherhood and Democracy Commission.
The DEM Party delegation will visit Abdullah Öcalan, the jailed PKK founder, on İmralı Island on Aug. 28, following weeks of criticism over limited access.
Foreign direct investment (FDI) in Turkey rose 27% year-on-year to $6.3 billion in the first half of 2025, led by inflows from the Netherlands and Kazakhstan, according to the International Investors Association (YASED).
The Caucasus is undergoing a fundamental transformation that could reshape the region’s geopolitical landscape. After decades of failed attempts—such as the 2001 peace process between Armenia and Azerbaijan or the 2009 Armenia–Turkey Zurich Protocols—Armenia and Azerbaijan have now initialed agreements that could pave the way for a historic breakthrough.
Chief of General Staff General Metin Gürak has been retired, and Land Forces Commander General Selçuk Bayraktaroğlu appointed as his replacement. The surprise decision was taken at the regular meeting of the Supreme Military Council chaired by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.
After 47 years, the PKK has decided to disband and lay down arms. According to the group’s founder, Abdullah Öcalan, this marks a paradigm shift: the struggle will now continue through strengthened political engagement. Following what both the government and opposition have called a “historic” decision, change is now expected within the DEM Party—the Kurdish political movement’s representative in Turkish Parliament. As one MP who recently visited Öcalan on İmralı Island put it: “Even the PKK is changing—why wouldn’t the DEM Party?”
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.
This week, Fatih Altaylı joined the list of jailed journalists. A veteran of mainstream media, Altaylı had turned to his YouTube channel as the media landscape shifted. He was arrested over remarks made in his most recent broadcast. The charge: “threatening the president.”
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.
“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 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.