Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
The word of the week is vibratör (vibrator), because Turkey has reached that stage of public life where even a small vibrating object of adult pleasure may require a prosecutor’s attention. Here, a vibrator is not merely a device; it is a small object with the bad manners to expose the size of the state.
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.
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.
The word of the week is operasyon, which is hardly surprising. Ahead of the NATO summit, Turkish authorities announced an operation resulting in hundreds of detentions.
So our word of the week is soygun, robbery - as in art heist. On a quiet Sunday morning in Paris, the world’s most visited museum turned into a crime scene. In under eight minutes, thieves hit the Louvre’s Galerie d’Apollon (the home of France’s Crown Jewels) and fled with royal pieces tied to Empresses Marie-Louise and Eugénie, and Queens Marie-Amélie and Hortense. Investigators say the crew used a lift to breach an upper window. Ministers Rachida Dati and Laurent Nuñez confirmed that the alarm tripped and police arrived within minutes. The symbolism stings more than the price tag. (Think eight figures.)
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.
Here at the tail end of the tourist season, the word of the week writes itself: konukseverlik, hospitality, or, in its Ottoman-tinted oldspeak, misafirperverlik. Every guidebook swears Turks are preternaturally welcoming; the national branding machine isn’t shy about it either. Yet while “hospitality” is the country’s trusty calling card, the numbers are more than brochure copy. Turkey received 23.6 million foreign visitors in the first half of 2025, marking an increase of 15.9% year-on-year, as tourism revenues hit a record $24.6 billion. By July, official arrivals had topped 31.2 million, the second-highest January–July tally on record.
The word of the week is Grok — not a Turkish word by birth, but one that, thanks to recent events, has become a household name from Izmir to Iğdır.
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.
The word of the week is “ihtiyatlı iyimserlik,” literally, “cautious optimism.” A staple of diplomatic jargon, the phrase allows diplomats, speechwriters, and strategists to sound hopeful without making any actual commitment. Last week alone, the term was trotted out as a reaction to the latest Damascus-SDF agreement, the ever-elusive prospect of a Ukraine-Russia ceasefire, and Syrian interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa’s pledge to establish an independent commission to bring those responsible for civilian killings in Latakia and Tartus to justice. And, yes, we are also cautiously optimistic about PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan’s calls to dissolve PKK and lay down arms, too.
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.
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.