TAYT/TIGHTS
The word of the week is tayt, one of those treacherous little linguistic friendships the French call faux amis. It sounds almost like the English tights, though Turkish politely drops the final hiss.
Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
The word of the week is tayt, one of those treacherous little linguistic friendships the French call faux amis. It sounds almost like the English tights, though Turkish politely drops the final hiss.
In Turkish, there is a saying: “to rediscover America,” similar to reinventing the wheel in English. It means to re-examine something that is already known and established. It carries a negative connotation. To those who act in this way, people often ask mockingly:“Are you trying to rediscover America?”
With TRIPP, the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity, dominating global headlines, it feels only right to turn our gaze to its Turkish near-homonym: trip atmak or trip yapmak. No, this is not another geopolitical acronym. In Turkish slang, trip is a native borrowing of English, stripped of tourist connotations and recast to mean sulky attitude. (Do watch the TikTok video for a full explanation) You can atmak (“throw”) a trip, a sudden sulk, or yapmak (“make”) one, meaning a longer, more orchestrated performance with a few dismissive or harsh words thrown in. Both have elbowed aside the more traditional surat asmak (“to pout”).
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.
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.
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.”