Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
On the ninth anniversary of the July 15 coup attempt, Turkish authorities launched a new wave of raids targeting the Gülenist movement, which Turkey officially labels as the terrorist group “FETÖ.”
Jailed Istanbul Metropolitan Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu was acquitted of charges of “targeting public officials involved in counterterrorism” but was convicted of “publicly insulting a public official due to his duty” and “making threats” in the case concerning Istanbul Chief Public Prosecutor Akın Gürlek. The court sentenced İmamoğlu to one year and five months in prison for the insult charge and an additional two months and 15 days for the threat charge, totaling one year and eight months. If upheld by the appeals court, the ruling could result in a political ban.
Ankara is entering what officials describe as the final phase of the PKK’s disarmament, with expectations that images of surrendered weapons could be released in the coming days.
In Turkey, a köprü (bridge) is never just a bridge. This week, the Bosphorus Bridge—officially renamed the “15 July Martyrs Bridge” after the 2016 coup attempt—became a stage for protest. A group of CHP deputies climbed onto the structure and unfurled a massive banner reading: “Free İmamoğlu” right before the CHP leader and his guests from the Socialist International would cross it. The message was direct: release Istanbul’s elected mayor, jailed on charges widely condemned as political. Only a few hours before that, the members of the Socialist International had raised a similar banner in their meeting.
Though not an official cleric, İhsan Eliaçık drew public attention when he led the funeral prayer for Sırrı Süreyya Önder, a prominent member of the İmralı delegation.
The word of the week is “ayazda kalmak,” literally translated as “being left out in the cold.” This phrase conveys the sting of exclusion, akin to the English “getting the cold shoulder.” It vividly portrays the experience of feeling neglected or overlooked, much like standing outside on a frosty night while others bask in warmth within. This colloquial idiom recently gained attention following a gathering of the CHP's “Big Three” on Feb. 9. CHP Chair Özgür Özel, Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu, and Ankara Mayor Mansur Yavaş convened to discuss whether the party should hold primary elections to determine its presidential candidate (Check Deep Dive for more). The photo from the meeting showed the three seated at a table by a fireplace, their notepads open, smiling convivially—your standard political meeting photo. No official statements were made.
As the world anticipates the outcome of the COP29 summit, which will end this week in Baku, Turkish audiences expect to hear the results of the COP31 bids. Turkey has announced its bid to host the 31st session of the climate summit in 2026. Yet the path to securing the event remains challenging, with its competitor, Australia, currently viewed as the frontrunner. At COP29 in Baku, Turkish officials are making an effort to capitalize on the familiar environment to secure a favorable decision on hosting COP31. While it remains unclear whether the host of COP31 will be decided at this summit, Ankara is actively lobbying for its candidacy, leveraging its proximity to Azerbaijan to strengthen its bid.
Kayyum or Kayyım (trustee, noun) often crops up on the Turkish agenda like an unwelcome ex-chief at a political celebration. The English-language media has translated it as trustee, as in “Turkey sacked three mayors in the Kurdish-majority southeast on alleged 'terrorism' charges and replaced them with trustees.” But as with most things, context is key. The word is actually an exalted name in Islamic theology, describing an attribute of God: the eternal, self-sustaining one, who maintains all existence. The term implies omniscience and omnipotence—qualities far removed from the bureaucratic function of trustee appointments. In more everyday language, it’s also a term for a mosque custodian. But lately, Turkey’s government has repurposed the term, applying it to officials appointed to oversee (or seize) the operations of private companies, foundations, and -mostly- municipalities suspected of wrongdoing. It should not be confused with a guardian (vasi), whose role implies that the person they care for is legally incapable of managing their own affairs. Tanıl Bora, master of Turkish political terms, explains: “A guardian is appointed to a person, a kayyum to property.”
“When good bureaucrats retire, they go to Istanbul,” quipped a Turkish diplomat at his farewell dinner several years ago. He was about to join the steady flow of ex-ambassadors and senior officials who settle comfortably into Istanbul’s glamorous private sector. While these bureaucrats enjoy Istanbul’s cosmopolitan delights and lucrative board positions, politicians with unsatisfied ambitions would do well to think twice. The graceful transition from bureaucracy-laden Ankara to Istanbul’s cultural and economic limelight might be liberating—but for politicians, it often signals the end of the line. Take Abdullah Gül, who leads the parade of high-profile politicians who found themselves in Istanbul once their grip on Ankara slipped. Gül, the soft-spoken Number Two to Erdoğan at the founding of AKP, left the presidency in 2014 with considerable bitterness, feeling sidelined by Erdoğan and his team. Settling first in Tarabya’s Presidential Palace and then in a private villa in Beykoz, he became a figure whom former allies and even foes sought out for advice on new parties, and periodically as a possible challenger to Erdoğan. Yet, Gül never took the plunge, proving that the view from Istanbul is often one of wistful distance from real political clout.
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.
“We certainly have a problem and it is clear we need to be in dialogue with Turkey to solve it,” a high-level German official told me when asked about news stories that Ankara and Berlin reached an understanding to send Turkish illegal migrants back to Turkey. “We told the Germans we are ready to work with them but we have not reached an agreement,” told me a Turkish official.