Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
İp (noun, rope, as in noose) made a dramatic entrance into Turkey’s political lexicon this week when the İyi Party’s new-ish leader, Müsavat Dervişoğlu, hurled a noose at MHP leader Devlet Bahçeli. This came in response to Bahçeli’s suggestion that PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan could be granted certain privileges—potentially even addressing Parliament—if he were to publicly call for the PKK’s dissolution. (For details, see last and this week’s Deep Dive.)
“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.
“When Turkish politics become too repetitive, I turn to the country’s art scene,” a European diplomat told me three years ago. “There is certainly more variety and more originality.” This year’s tension-wrought political rentrée, where debates revolved around “did they rise or did they not, for the president,” somehow made me follow her advice: When politics go wrong, seek consolation in art and culture.
Lokma (noun): Literally translated as “morsel,” lokma is a fried sweet dough covered in syrup. Part of Turkey’s colossal street food culture, its shape, size, and sweetness change according to the region. Izmirians maintain that it has to have a hole in the middle, whereas Istanbuliots say it should be in the shape and size of a dove’s egg. People of Gaziantep, whose Unesco-registered cuisine is on festival mode until Sept. 22, call it pisik daşşaa (“cat’s balls” in the local accent) and sprinkle it with crushed pistachios. Greeks have loukoumades, which they serve with honey and heated arguments on its Greek origins. In Turkey, when a loved one dies, people distribute lokma in their sweet memory, when a small lokma-van pulls on the street in front of the family home and distributes little cartoon cups of half a dozen lokmas to neighbors and passers-by.