TURKEY CAMPAIGNS FOR FAO DIRECTORATE GENERAL
Turkey has launched its campaign to lead the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) after nominating former Agriculture Minister Mehmet Mehdi Eker for the position of Director-General.
Analysis
In-Depth Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
CONCEPT OF THE YEAR: DIGITAL CONSCIENCE
Culture and Tourism Minister Mehmet Nuri Ersoy said, “digital conscience” was selected as the Word/Concept of the Year for 2025 following a public vote organized by the Turkish Language Association (TDK), despite the term not being widely used in daily language.
MERCİMEK/LENTILS
In Turkish culture, mercimek turns up everywhere: in the copper pot of the humblest esnaf lokantası cafe and the gleaming bowl of a New-Nordic fusion spot; in the taxi driver’s midnight soup as a welcome alternative to pungent tripe soup, and the dietician’s protein plan. If quinoa is aspirational and bulgur nostalgic, mercimek is foundational: a pulse that has nourished this land since it was the Fertile Crescent.
KEDİ
The word of the week is kedi, or cat, the agile, intuitive feline who is supposed to have nine lives. The Turkish word kedi ultimately goes back to Late Latin cattus (“cat”), with an intermediate form in Byzantine Greek gati (γ α τί, “kitten”) from which it passed into Ottoman Turkish as kedi. So why is it the word of the week? Because of the Istanbul Biennial, the must-see flagship event of the Istanbul Foundation for Culture and Arts (IKSV) that continues until the end of November.
TATİL
In Turkey, tatil (holiday) is a prism through which one can observe culture, class, and politics. It conjures images of mosque courtyards and family dinners or bustling resort towns thrumming with booked-out hotels and overpriced beaches.
BOYKOT
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.
YANGIN
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.
HALEP
Halep (Aleppo, proper name) touches Turkish hearts, minds, imagination, language and, of course, the political rhetoric in a way few cities of the Ottoman Empire do. The southern jewel of the empire, the city has been a touchstone of trade, culture, and storytelling. But, as far as your cheeky columnist is concerned, its true linguistic value lies in being the punchline in one of Turkey’s wittiest sayings: “Halep oradaysa arşın burada”—“If Aleppo is there, the yardstick is here.” This phrase is more than a geographic observation; it’s a challenge. Based on the oral tale of a man who claimed that back in his great days in Aleppo, he could leap just as high as one could imagine, it’s what you say to someone boasting about their impressive feats in far-off places. “Sure, we can no longer ask around in Aleppo,” it implies, “but let’s see how you measure up here, in the present, with evidence.” In other words, put up or shut up and do not expect us to be persuaded by tall tales.
CULTURAL OCTOBER
“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
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.