Ramazan, in this spectacle, becomes the month when diplomats discover how many dinners can be fitted into a single week. Let me be fair, some iftar invitations are offered in friendship, community, and with the principle of sharing what you have. I’m talking about the other kind, recurring calendar events with excessive food, ritual and repeated remarks, and the sense that everyone is attending because everyone else is attending.

And yes, dinner has a particular meaning in a diplomat’s life. It’s where you host the colleague who may be your partner on Monday and your adversary on Tuesday. It’s semi-formal by design, the sentences are longer and can sometimes even be lyrical, and the disagreements wear a silk glove. That’s why an invitation that is also an iftar fast-breaking is hard to refuse, especially when hosted by fellow diplomats. But when iftar is absorbed into the diplomatic dinner ritual, then you enter the realm of calorie diplomacy. Identical menus, identical speeches, identical photos, and eventually identical regret of having eaten excessively dominates the week.

Ramadan is an education in unseen discipline and social attention, so if you want to do cultural diplomacy with integrity during this month, the goal is not to host the most, or to attend each and every one.

In Turkish tradition, Ramazan is never just a meal. In late Ottoman Istanbul, places like Direklerarası became famous precisely as Ramazan hubs, crowded after prayers with performance, talk, laughter, and the kind of public sociability modern cities keep trying to rebrand as “festivals.”

A better Ramazan calendar could involve fewer dinners, and more events such as the following, as well as quiet giving. Consider this article, then, a survival guide: a way to practise diplomacy without turning Ramazan into a cardio-free buffet marathon.

LIGHT IS LANGUAGE: MAHYA

Mahya is Ottoman style public communication. Messages written in light are hung between minarets. It is also, inconveniently for modern life, the kind of “content” that cannot be scrolled past.

The core idea is simple, the messages are sent using light, a city speaking to itself through atmosphere. If you must host something during Ramazan, host meaning and message rather than another seating plan. Use light as the medium for your cultural diplomacy, you can even create your own mahya-in-progress. There are drones or lasers to prepare your message. Remember, light travels faster and further than invitations. It also leaves fewer leftovers.

SATIRE: KARAGÖZ, MEDDAH, ORTAOYUNU

Karagöz and Hacivat, the shadow theater, is a timeless satirical take on life. The puppets act out stories of vanity, pretence, and the eternal confidence of men who think they are in charge of reality. As it is cited in the introduction of every Karagöz play, the curtain is the mirror of truth on which the stories are told. Besides Karagöz, there is also meddah (storytellers) and ortaoyunu (improvisational theater) that turn streets and coffeehouses into stages and put a wide smile on faces.

The diplomatic translation of satire is not complicated. Host a short performance on your embassy premises. You would support art forms that are quietly vanishing, you diversify the cultural life of your city, and you avoid another dinner where everyone repeats “our friendship is strong”. Have no doubt: your guests will remember laughter. Especially when it contains truth.

RAMAZAN MARKET WALK-VISIT

There is a pre-iftar hour when cities turn into slow-moving choreography or bad traffic. The narrow streets are filled with queues, errands, the soft panic of time, and the sweet smell of warm Ramazan pidesi announcing that the day is about to break.

So do the obvious thing, schedule a Ramazan market walk-visit. Call it “public diplomacy through daily life” if you need to justify it in a memo. In reality, it covers your daily 10,000 steps, cultural literacy, and the rare privilege of seeing a society reorganise itself around restraint. Also, walking is free, which should appeal to finance departments in every ministry of foreign affairs.

DİŞ KİRASI: CHARITY AND SOLIDARITY

If you want to honor the month, do something useful quietly. Provide food support, school supplies, and help for those under strain. Partner with a credible local initiative. Let humility be your guiding principle.

You can even give a modern meaning to old Ottoman etiquette: diş kirası, the post-iftar parting gift offered as gratitude for accepting hospitality. The point was not extravagance. Modern diş kirası does not need to be a pouch of coins. It can be a discreet act of solidarity, done without a press release.

Ramazan is the month when society slows down on purpose. It teaches limits. Modern diplomacy in its digital format, is an anxious search for visibility. So don’t fall into the trap of turning Ramazan into a weekly dinner schedule. Resist that instinct. Borrow from the Turkish traditions for turning evenings into public culture, not merely private consumption.

Give Ramazan what it deserves, meaning, humility, and just enough humor to keep the whole thing honest.

*Can Öztaş, LL.M., Ph.D, is a retired Turkish diplomat and jurist who writes on international law, Turkish foreign policy, and the politics of narratives. He teaches Turkish foreign policy and international law at Bilkent University in Ankara and contributes regularly to Turkey in Depth and the Critical Legal Thinking platform.

This article was originally published in Turkey in Depth.