Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
When a Canadian camera was found in a downed Turkish drone in the war in Nagorno Karabakh, the Canadian government canceled the product’s export permit in April 2021. “The use of technology in this way is inconsistent with Canada’s foreign policy and Turkey’s end-user commitments,” said the country’s then-foreign minister.
In the rich tapestry of Turkish names, few are as paradoxical as 'Satılmış.' Literally translating to 'sold' or 'sell-out,' this name carries a weighty connotation that intertwines cultural beliefs, societal perceptions and individual destinies. In Anatolian traditions, giving newborns names like 'Satılmış' or the female version “Satı” is a protective measure. The name was traditionally bestowed upon children with the underlying belief that by symbolically 'selling' the child, parents could deceive malevolent spirits or fate, thereby safeguarding the child from harm or premature death. This practice reflects an interplay between language, belief systems, and cultural practices in Anatolian societies.
The ruling AKP presents the fall of the Assad regime as a success story as well as vindication of its 13-year Syria policy which for many has meant turning the country into a vast migrant camp.
In Turkey, the word “yangın” (fire) has been a literal and metaphorical agent of change, leaving lasting marks on cities, culture, and society. Fires frequently serve as dramatic turning points in Turkish popular culture, from the 1960 film “Fire,” an Ottoman-era period piece in which the daughter of a pasha falls for a tulumbacı (Ottoman firefighter), to the modern TV series “Cranberry Sorbet,” which united estranged lovers after a tragic blaze. Adopting the usual satirical tone for the Word of the Week is impossible as the nation mourns after the Grand Kartal Hotel fire at the Kartalkaya ski resort in Bolu. The blaze, which began in the restaurant section and quickly engulfed the 12-story building, claimed at least 78 lives, including children on winter break, and injured 51 others.
Turkey cannot “design” Syria when others pay the money. The Turkish government lacks the financial resources to put Syria back on its feet. And time is of the essence because, if the new administration is slow in delivering stability, the already big challenges will become even bigger. “We don’t have the money, but we have the capacity,” said a Turkish diplomat. “We need to work for the right model in Syria and use our state capacity to provide our institutional support,” added the diplomat.
Aile (family, noun of Arabic root “awila,” meaning “to support or lean upon,”) may evoke images of warmth, reliance, and shared responsibilities. Historically, the concept of family in Turkey was as expansive as the stone konaks that housed them. The family in the Ottoman era—be it the great dynasties in towns or villages of Anatolia—was a multigenerational affair, spanning grandparents, uncles, cousins, and even distant relatives, all living under one roof.
The political and military cooperation between Turkey and Israel in the 1990s benefited both in terms of their relations with Syria. Following Turkey’s threat to use force, Syrian then-President Hafez Al-Assad decided to end his policy of providing safe haven to PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan.
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.
I had hoped to welcome 2025 with the word “umut”—hope—dear readers. Yet the somber mood of New Year’s Eve, when deserted streets echoed the gloom on Turkish television, has nudged me toward a more fitting phrase for the times: the 3Ys of Turkey. “Yoksulluk, Yolsuzluk, Yasaklar”- poverty, corruption, and prohibitions.
Two issues will be of priority in Turkish foreign policy in 2025: post-Assad Syria and the war in Ukraine. Both will be closely linked to the policy preferences of the U.S. President-elect Donald Trump. As the U.S. leader is expected to stop the war in Ukraine, Turkey will be watching his efforts closely and will seek a role to facilitate a reconciliation between Ukraine and Russia, and between Moscow and the West.
Among the many challenges Turkey will face in Syria three stand out. The first stems from the Arab countries. The “Arab streets” are happy to see the end of the suffering of Syrian Arabs at the hands of a dictator. Yet this joy is hardly shared by their rulers. The survival of the Assad regime symbolized the failure of the Arab uprisings of 2011 as Arab leaders feared the movement of political Islam could hit home to challenge their rule.
Silkelemek, or its shorthand version silkmek (shake-up, verb), carries energy, vigor, and occasionally a political punch. From its Ottoman roots to its modern interpretations, silkelemek has evolved into a word that shakes not only rugs and wrestlers but also bureaucracies, political rivals, and even dreams. At its core, silkelemek is a practical term. It conjures up vivid images of traditional housewives shaking rugs over balconies to rid them of dust. In Turkish dream interpretations, shaking a rug suggests a tranquil and orderly life, free of disruptions. It can also signify divine favor or answered prayers. Shake a rug off a balcony, and it symbolizes the achievement of long-pursued goals. Shake a dusty rug? Bid farewell to financial troubles. And if someone else shakes it for you? Expect wise decisions and peace of mind.