Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
In a surprising move, former Ankara Mayor Melih Gökçek — long accused of corruption but never prosecuted — has been summoned to testify before the Organized Crime Investigation Bureau of the Ankara Chief Public Prosecutor's Office on Sept. 4.
One of the most concrete steps yet in the normalization process between Turkey and Armenia—launched in 2021—has been taken with a move toward direct trade between the two countries. Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan is heading into a June 7 election widely seen as a vote of confidence on his parallel agendas of steering the country toward the West while pursuing peace with Azerbaijan and normalization with Turkey. Turkish Foreign Ministry spokesperson Öncü Keçeli announced on X on May 13 that bureaucratic preparations for the launch of direct trade between Turkey and Armenia had been completed as of May 11.
Some Turkish words are as sharp and clear as a gleam of a knife. Others confuse you. Yakışır is a particular gem in the latter category. Literally, it means “befitting” or “suits well.” But intonation does all the heavy lifting here. With a twinkle in the eye, yakışır becomes high praise: a friend gets a long-deserved promotion? “Yakışır!” A suave female CEO in her sixties starts dating a younger man with abs and ambition? “Yakışır vallahi!” But delivered with a dry brow and pursed lips, the very same yakışır morphs into biting derision, the sort you might lob at a corrupt bureaucrat who gets caught rigging tenders again or the son of one of the president’s close allies landing an ambassadorial job.
Journalist Deniz Zeyrek writes about a closed-door briefing organized by AKP's media and communications chief Faruk Acar, at which Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan spoke to senior editors and Ankara bureau chiefs from pro-government outlets about Turkey's foreign policy. Zeyrek identifies three problems with the meeting.
A district governor in Ankara has been surprisingly reassigned following his religious references, political posturing against CHP members, and social media arguments. Meanwhile, the President of the Constitutional Court addressed jurists with similar religious references while he was demanding they ensure justice through religious frameworks.
A sweeping reshuffle in Turkey’s judiciary and security bureaucracy accelerated following the appointment of Akın Gürlek as justice minister.
MHP Chair Devlet Bahçeli called for a probe into whether a new “parallel” structure has infiltrated the bureaucracy, ahead of criticisms of the judiciary. In comments about juvenile offenders, he recalled how the Gülen Terrorist Organization had established parallel networks within the government to cause chaos.
With checks and balances eroded and power increasingly centralized, Turkey is facing what may be one of the biggest digital scandals in its history. The online signatures of high-level bureaucrats have been compromised, allowing a criminal network to appoint public servants via the e-State (e-Devlet) system, issue fake diplomas and licenses, forge English proficiency test results and sell properties— raising serious concerns about fraudulent graduates.
In Turkish, the term for ambassador has undergone a transformation as sweeping as the empire it once served. The old-fashioned word was “Sefir,” from the Arabic s‑f‑r root meaning “to bear a message,” and the highest rank was Sefir‑i Kebir—the Grand Envoy—complete with embroidered robes and horse-led fanfare. Today, the bureaucratic “Büyükelçi” literally means “great envoy,” yet, put in plain Turkish, it feels a little less illustrious.
In the great Turkish game of semantics, few words do more political heavy lifting than süreç. Literally “process,” süreç is the bureaucrat’s fig leaf, the politician’s magic wand, and the journalist’s catch-all term when no one knows quite what to call a thing. It conjures movement without a very clear or declared direction, change without rupture, action without accountability. You don’t fail a süreç—you just manage it, drag it, or rebrand it.
The former head of Turkey’s media watchdog RTÜK, Zahid Akman, who served as editor-in-chief of pro-government broadcaster Kanal 7 for many years, has been replaced by Kanal 7 Ankara bureau chief Mehmet Acet.
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.