In Turkish, we do have many different words for different types of coups, because our experience similarly demands it. It’s a matter of life or death,” the linguist Willem DeReuse told New Scientist. (The claim had been disputed, but the latest research affirms it.) “These people need to know whether ice is fit to walk on or whether you will sink through it. The Inuit have many words for snow-because their experience demands that kind of exactness. That’s dangerous, because language is a tool of survival. Part of the problem is that we haven’t developed linguistic precision to put a name to it all-not just to what’s been happening since November, but to the processes within which it’s embedded. The incoherence and incompetence of the attempt do not change its nature, however, nor do those traits allow us to dismiss it or ignore it until it finally fails on account of that incompetence. Coup may not quite capture what we’re witnessing in the United States right now, but there’s also a danger here: Punditry can tend to focus too much on decorum and terminology, like the overachieving students so many of us once were, conflating the ridiculous with the unserious. Trump has been broadly acknowledged as “norm shattering” and some have argued that this is just more of his usual bluster, while others have pointed out terminological issues with calling his endeavors a coup. It’s true, the whole thing seems ludicrous-the incoherent lawsuits, the late-night champagne given to official election canvassers in Trump hotels, the tweets riddled with grammatical errors and weird capitalization. Much debate has ensued about what exactly to call whatever Trump is attempting right now, and about how worried we should be. The technical term for attempting to stay in power illegitimately-such as after losing an election-is self-coup or autocoup, sometimes autogolpe. In political science, the term coup refers to the illegitimate overthrow of a sitting government-usually through violence or the threat of violence. I went out to secure transportation for us-this airport was not going to be safe either-while she and my 7-year-old son went to retrieve our luggage. The other woman and I nodded at each other, becoming an immediate coup pod. I told the airline employee that we were not getting on that plane, destined for the Istanbul airport, which I knew would be a primary target. Zeynep Tufekci: America’s next authoritarian will be much more competent “This must be your first,” she said to the young woman behind the counter, who was still shaking her head.
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Some routine transport of troops, perhaps? If so, I asked her, where is the prime minister? Why isn’t he on TV to tell us that? Another woman approached the counter. * It must be a military exercise, she shrugged. Over three decades later, I walked up to a counter in Antalya Airport to tell a disbelieving airline employee that our flight would shortly be canceled because the tanks being reported in the streets of Istanbul meant that a coup attempt was under way. Turkey is the land of coups this was neither the first nor the last coup it would face. But my mom, of course, had immediately understood what his advice must have meant. The neighbor was aghast-he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what was coming. “Oh, another coup,” she immediately groaned. He told her to stock up on bread and rice. O n the evening of September 11, 1980, my mom was approached by a neighbor who held rank in the Turkish military. She studies the interaction between digital technology, artificial intelligence, and society. About the author: Zeynep Tufekci is a contributing writer at The Atlantic and an associate professor at the University of North Carolina.