ANKARA – The news, when it splashed across the New York Times’ front page, had all the makings of a major diplomatic crisis: Syria test-fired three Scud missiles on May 27, including one that broke up over the Turkish province of Hatay and sent debris plummeting to earth near the villages of Golbas and Mahmutlu.

Thankfully, there were no injuries or property damage. But the incident could easily, and justifiably, be interpreted by Turkish authorities as recklessness on the part of the Syrian military, or a provocation by the Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad.

And yet, the Turkish reaction has been … quiet. Real quiet.

The Turkish Foreign Ministry summoned the Syrian ambassador, Khaled Raad, and demanded an explanation. Shortly thereafter, the ministry issued a statement: “Syria said in response that the incident occurred due to a technical fault during military training exercises and expressed the government’s regret over an unintentional incident caused by individual error and apologized to the Turkish government.” The statement added that Syrian authorities were taking measures to avoid a repetition.

The incident was mentioned, briefly, in the Turkish newspapers – covered calmly, dispassionately, relegated to brief, dry articles.

Now, this is an affair for the two countries to work out, and the way the issue is resolved and covered in the Turkish press might be seen, as the They Might Be Giants song “Istanbul (not Constantinople)” goes, as “nobody’s business but the Turks.”

But it’s a little weird to see a traditionally pugnacious, proud, take-no-crap-from-anybody member of NATO reacting so laid back to flying and exploding missiles. It’s particularly bizarre when one thinks of recent events that have set passions ablaze around here.

When the outgoing American ambassador to Turkey, Eric Edelman, was asked in March about an upcoming trip by the Turkish president, Ahmet Sezer, to Damascus, he politely sidestepped the direct inquiry. Instead, he said that the international community was united behind a United Nations Security Council resolution urging the withdrawal of Syrian forces from Lebanon. He went on to say, “We continue to believe that this approach is the best course for stability in the region. We hope that Turkey will also join in that international consensus, by supporting a thorough and immediate Syrian withdrawal from Lebanon … How Turkey wants to reflect the international community’s general position is for Turkey to determine.”

Pretty mild stuff. But to say the Turkish press overhyped that statement is to say the disclosure of Deep Throat’s identity has caused a bit of discussion around Washington. A thunderous roar of outrage came from the Turkish press and more than a few government officials, decrying Mr. Edelman’s run-of-the-mill declaration as an implied suggestion that Mr. Sezer should cancel his trip to Damascus. It was meddling! An attempt to derail Turkish-Syrian relations! An arrogant order to Ankara how it should handle its foreign affairs! How dare he!

That brouhaha blew over eventually. But about a month later, the public’s passions were stirred again, when some Kurdish youths in Mersin were caught on videotape, attempting to burn the Turkish flag. The entire country erupted in a burst of defiant patriotism, waving their flag from every window and building. The only comparable sight in recent memory was the omnipresent Stars and Stripes back in America in the weeks after September 11, 2001.

Keep in mind that the Turks aren’t usually shy about a conflict, and as recently as 1998, they came to the brink of war with Syria over suspicions that Damascus was sheltering members of the outlawed Kurdistan Workers’ Party, the PKK. The crisis was resolved after Syria expelled PKK leader Abdullah Ocalan and signed a security deal with Turkey, pledging to stop supporting the PKK.

So innocuous comments about getting Syria out of Lebanon generate a week of furious columns and protests outside the American Embassy, and somebody trying to set fire to the flag brings out more patriotism than a Lee Greenwood concert. But fire a missile over Turkish territory and have little rocket pieces land all over a farmer’s field?

The reaction seems to be “Don’t worry! No big deal!”

What, did somebody slip Prozac in the raki? Has the famous thick and powerful Turkish coffee been switched to decaffeinated?

Maybe there’s more going on behind the scenes. But right now, it looks like Syria is the odd beneficiary of a Turkish Republic that, at least at times, seems newly mellow.

Mr. Geraghty lives in Ankara.