Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
Zülfü Livaneli made a clear decision this week. The musician and novelist put an end to the playing of his celebrated composition at opposition rallies protesting the operations that have targeted Ekrem İmamoğlu — and subsequently numerous other mayors and municipal officials — since March 19, 2025.
Haluk Levent is a musician who rose to fame in the early 1990s, performing what is known as Anatolian Rock.
The word of the week is şatafat, and Ankara supplied the visual aid. At the NATO summit, Turkey received its guests with the full vocabulary of Erdoğan-era grandeur: mehter music, ceremonial guards, a turquoise carpet that seemed designed less for walking than for being recorded, and the Erdoğan couple standing before the vast Presidential Complex, its doors polished to a shine usually reserved for furniture showrooms. There was also the choreography.
When Keriman Halis, a 19-year-old of Circassian descent, won the title of Miss Turkey in 1932, she became the punching bag of some of the media. Surely, wrote several columnists, this girl with the round face and jutting eyebrows had only been chosen because her father, a musician, was on friendly terms with the members of the jury, the writers, composers, and the intellectuals handpicked by the daily Cumhuriyet, which used to organize the pageant back then.
Kahramanmaraş Sütçü İmam University launched an investigating after musician Kaan Tangöze altered the lyrics of the song “Baltalar Elimizde” (The Axes Are in Our Hands) during a concert on campus, prompting political backlash.
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.