International law treats Palestinians as a population under foreign occupation. The Kurds, however, are classified as “national minorities”

Nick Kossovan | Exclusive to iKurd.net

Whether you’re walking through a major Western city, browsing social media, or on a university campus today, you can’t miss it. Stencilled on brick walls, plastered on light poles, draped from balconies, or blasted through megaphones, the slogan is everywhere: “Free Palestine!” It’s become the go-to move for self-proclaimed activists and armchair moralists to virtue-signal their support for Palestinians’ right to statehood, self-determination, and fundamental human dignity.

What you won’t see or hear during your walk or campus visit are flags, painted signs, or chanted slogans for the Kurds; that’s assuming you’re even aware they’re stateless as well. While Western outrage rallies in support of Palestinian self-determination, over 40 million Kurds remain the largest ethnic group without a country of their own. Spread across Turkey, Iran, Iraq, and Syria, they’ve spent more than a century fighting for the same rights as Palestinians: basic human rights and a homeland.

Why does the Palestinian plight provoke wall-to-wall outrage across the West, while the Kurds are treated as a geopolitical footnote?

It’s certainly not for lack of human suffering. After the Ottoman Empire collapsed, the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres promised the Kurds a state of their own, only for Western powers to renege three years later, carving up their homeland into four pieces to satisfy newly drawn borders, without consulting a single Kurd. What followed was a century of horror: Saddam Hussein’s chemical attacks in Halabja, brutal military campaigns and language bans in Turkey, execution squads in Iran, and forced displacement in Syria.

None of this horror moves the Western conscience. The silence isn’t accidental; it’s a calculated blend of geopolitical self-interest, media-driven algorithms, and an open secret: antisemitism rebranded as moral virtue.

Let’s start with the geopolitical game: NATO’s convenience. Turkey, a key NATO ally guarding Europe’s southern flank, treats any hint of Kurdish self-rule as a threat that must be crushed. When Western armies needed ground forces to fight the Islamic State in Syria, they armed Kurdish fighters and praised them as heroic defenders of democracy. Kurdish men and women died by the thousands doing the West’s dirty work. But once ISIS was defeated, Western leaders discreetly withdrew their support, effectively turning their backs on the Kurds and handing the keys back to Turkey.

Western outrage, as much as it may be virtue-signalling, is easy when there’s no invoice attached. Condemning Israel carries almost no real cost; it’s a low-risk, high-reward exercise in self-righteousness. Championing the Kurds, however, requires calling out allies, rattling NATO, and challenging borders drawn by Western powers. The sobering truth for the Kurds: they’re useful on the battlefield but invisible at the negotiating table.

Second, the Kurdish struggle doesn’t fit the cartoonish contrasts that pass for “Western activism.” Today’s protest culture thrives on oversimplified, black-and-white formulas: oppressor versus oppressed, white colonizer versus indigenous victim.

Western media tends to narrate the Palestinian cause through this framework—casting Israel as a colonial outpost rather than a sovereign nation, a narrative that’s then echoed on red carpets, social feeds, and concert stages. It’s a convenient, off-the-rack story that requires neither fine distinctions nor historical literacy.

Applying an ‘anti-colonial’ lens to the Kurds’ struggle quickly falls apart. The states oppressing the Kurds—Turks, Persians, and Arabs—are not ‘Western colonizers.’ They’re native Middle Eastern groups whose right to govern is rarely challenged. Without the fuel of a Western proxy to blame, the outrage simply fails to ignite. Acknowledging that Middle Eastern regimes can be brutal imperialists would undermine the story the Western outrage system depends on.

The double standard is baked into the global diplomatic system. International law treats Palestinians as a population under foreign occupation, granting them the legal right to break away and build their own nation. The Kurds, however, are classified as “national minorities” trapped within existing sovereign borders.

Under international doctrine, Kurds are entitled only to local cultural rights, not to full independence. Sovereign nations guard this legal loophole religiously, not out of principle but out of fear of encouraging their own minority groups to secede.

Recent history is littered with this hypocrisy. Spain still refuses to recognize Kosovo out of fear for Catalonia; Canada’s Supreme Court legally restricted Quebec to internal autonomy in 1998; and when 93 percent of Iraqi Kurds voted for independence in 2017, neighbouring regimes immediately deployed tanks to crush the vote. Protecting lines drawn on a map will always matter more to politicians than human beings’ freedom to self-determination.

Third, 21st-century journalism has an undeniable self-interest: manufacturing rage-driven narratives to keep the lights on. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is media crack—reliable, high-octane engagement for newsrooms and algorithms alike. We saw this circus explode when American rapper Macklemore shouted, “Free Palestine!” on stage while opening for Ed Sheeran. After venue owners allegedly pressured Sheeran to drop Macklemore, Sheeran’s entire lineup—including his long-time backing band, Beoga, and openers such as Finneas—quit the tour in protest.

Seeing a clear monetization opportunity, Macklemore immediately announced his “Free Palestine Tour,” revealing everything you need to know about the rapper’s moral compass. (Yes, I’m aware that Macklemore is calling it a “charitable tour.”) The media eagerly turned the fallout into a viral feeding frenzy, amplifying every tweet, boycott, celebrity stance, and drop in Sheeran’s concert attendance and Instagram followers as social proof of collective outrage.

Beneath newsrooms serving their self-interests lies a demographic reality. Advocacy for Palestinian self-determination commands a built-in global network of nearly two billion Muslims, whose shared identity drives emotional investment across every time zone. It’s a ready-made, transnational megaphone.

No such global alliance exists for the Kurds. Because their struggle is ethnic and regional rather than pan-religious, the Kurdish cause attracts no international bloc, no global movement, and no sympathy on the world stage, much as nobody outside Britons and ethnic Irish genuinely cared about the Northern Ireland conflict.

Here’s where trading in comforting lies needs to stop, and an uncomfortable truth needs to be recognized: the core divide between pro-Palestinian advocacy and the Kurdish fight for self-determination boils down to a simple formula: who pays the price for statehood and who’s allowed to monopolize the world’s sympathy.

If Israel bequeaths an independent Palestine, Jews pay the price. If Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran bequeath an independent Kurdistan, Muslims pay the price. That’s the entire equation. Western performative outrage explodes in the first scenario because demanding sacrifices from others costs nothing, but evaporates in the second because holding Muslim-majority regimes accountable disrupts their neat, selective anti-colonial script.

This divide exposes the selective morality that governs public commentary. While antisemitism remains an undeniable reality, anti-Israel sentiment provides a sanitized front for age-old prejudices. In a politically correct Western society, echoing overt anti-Jewish conspiracy theories, such as “Jews control the banks” or “Jews start wars for profit,” rightly invites condemnation. Disguising those same attitudes as “anti-Zionist critique,” however, earns applause in self-identified progressive circles. Israel has simply become a socially permissible surrogate for targeting Jews.

The Kurdish fight carries no repackaged malice to propel its narrative into the global spotlight. It’s a localized struggle against neighbouring Muslim states. For governments in Ankara, Damascus, Baghdad, and Tehran, surrendering territory for a Kurdish homeland would mean relinquishing land under Muslim control, a zero-sum compromise no regional power is willing to make.

Furthermore, Kurds in Iraqi Kurdistan and Rojava have established notably secular, modernized systems centred on pluralism and women’s rights. To traditionalist regimes, supporting Kurdish statehood means watching a progressive, egalitarian model thrive at the expense of traditional religious authority.

The final diplomatic nail in the coffin is a matter of regional perception: the Kurds are seen across the Middle East as far too cozy with Israel. In a region where anti-Israel animus is an entry requirement for political legitimacy, any group labelled friendly to the Jewish state is instantly radioactive to surrounding regimes and to Western ideological echo chambers.

Universal values such as self-determination, anti-imperialism, and basic human dignity lose meaning when applied selectively. Deciding who deserves a state based on geopolitical convenience, media hype, or hidden bias destroys the very concept of justice. Loudly demanding freedom for one group while looking away from forty million Kurds isn’t moral courage. It is performative solidarity rooted in double standards.

It’s time for Western governments, cultural icons, media pundits, and street-level marchers to hold their proclaimed moral convictions to a consistent standard. If “Free Palestine!” is the defining rallying cry of today’s selective moral crusade, then moral consistency demands that the uncomfortable question be asked: Why not also “Free Kurdistan!”?

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2026 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The Rojava Revolution Has Lessons for Western Feminism

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Sacrificing the Kurds: How the West Traded Heroic Anti-ISIS Allies for Political Convenience

Nick Kossovan | iKurd.net

In March 2019, the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) raised their flag over the rubble of Baghouz, marking a symbolic victory that Western capitals hailed as the collapse of the Islamic State’s terror regime.

Yet behind the glossy press releases, the truth about those who endured and those who lost their lives in the 2014–2019 conflict remained hidden.

It wasn’t American or European boots on the ground sweeping through the desert dust. It was young Kurdish women and men, fighting alongside local Syriac Christians, Assyrians, and Sunni Arab tribesmen, doing the brutal, door-to-door groundwork Western armies simply lacked the stomach to execute themselves.

The price of that victory, which gave the West a semblance of security, was that more than 11,000 Kurdish and allied fighters lost their lives fighting ISIS, sacrificing themselves to protect the so-called “free world” only to be abandoned in the desert.

Western countries, including Washington and European nations, shifted responsibility for detaining tens of thousands of hardened jihadist prisoners to the Kurds because they lacked the political resolve to repatriate their own radicalized citizens. This arrangement exemplifies Western hypocrisy: let the Kurds bleed for Western security today, then turn a blind eye when regional enemies come for them tomorrow.

Fast-forward to August 2026, and that blood-bought self-governance in Rojava—the autonomous, democratic sanctuary carved out of war-torn northern Syria—has been systematically dismantled. Formally governed by the Democratic Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (DAANES), a decentralized, secular administrative framework that explicitly prioritized women’s leadership, multi-ethnic pluralism, and local self-determination, the region no longer exists.

Trapped in a vice grip between relentless foreign air strikes, aggressive demands from Damascus, and backroom arm-twisting by Western diplomats, DAANES was officially dissolved. Self-defence forces were disarmed, and its institutions were absorbed into the Syrian central government.

This forced surrender exposes a callous, recurring pattern in Western foreign policy. As Washington recruited and then abandoned Hmong fighters in Laos, using them as shields during the Cold War, Western nations continue to repeat the same ‘throw them back to the wolves’ approach in the Middle East.

When Western nations need a dirty job done, they deem secular, heroic partners indispensable. But when the threat recedes, those same allies become an inconvenience, prompting Western diplomats to quickly negotiate with whichever rebranded regime promises central control.

Blood Equity and the Disposable Alliance

The Western-SDF alliance was always an asymmetric marriage of convenience. When ISIS swept across Iraq and Syria, capturing Mosul, threatening Western interests, and destabilizing NATO’s doorstep, Washington urgently needed a reliable local force with real grit on the ground.

The Kurds answered the call. They fought block by bloody block through Kobanî, Raqqa, and Dêrazor, all while building a pioneering governance model grounded in direct democracy, gender equality, and secular pluralism. Yet as the immediate threat from ISIS receded, Western priorities shifted back to calculated self-interest.

The abandonment was gradual, not sudden. In 2018, Turkey, a NATO ally, invaded Afrin, a Kurdish-controlled region, forcing hundreds of thousands of civilians to flee to make way for extremist proxies. By October 2019, President Donald Trump abruptly ordered U.S. troops to withdraw after a single phone call with Turkish President Erdoğan. Trump claimed the withdrawal was to end an ‘endless war’ and save money, but he knowingly green-lighted Turkey to attack local ground partners of the U.S. and the Western coalition.

By late 2026, Western envoys had stopped standing by as Rojava’s autonomous institutions were dismantled to appease central state authorities and regional powers. The core message: Kurdish blood was essential to crushing terrorists, but Kurdish self-governance was a diplomatic inconvenience.

The Rebranding of Extreme Ideology

Perhaps the most troubling aspect of this geopolitical realignment is how quickly Western capitals embraced rebranded warlords, to the detriment of their secular allies.

At the centre of this whitewashing campaign are figures such as Ahmad al-Sharaa. Under his former nom de guerre, Abu Mohammad al-Julani, al-Sharaa led Jabhat al-Nusra—al-Qaeda’s official Syrian franchise—and later commanded Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), an armed group forged in the same ideological furnace as ISIS.

That Western power brokers now court former extremist commanders simply because they traded battle fatigues for tailored suits reveals a glaring double standard: radicalism isn’t the deal-breaker in Western foreign policy; disobedience is.

Washington’s quick willingness to lift terror designations and warmly welcome former warlords highlights a recurring hypocrisy. Changing appearance—trimming beards, wearing Western suits, and using diplomatic language—doesn’t erase a person’s core ideology. Yet Western diplomats eagerly accept these surface-level makeovers in the name of centralized order, while demanding total capitulation from the Kurdish forces who spent a decade taking bullets to stop those same extremists.

Paper Concessions Versus Structural Autonomy

Western rationalizers highlight symbolic gestures from Damascus, such as formal acknowledgment of Kurdish language rights, restored citizenship, and official decrees marking Newroz. But these paper concessions are an insultingly cheap trade. Ink on parchment in Damascus doesn’t compensate for the deliberate destruction of living, self-governing institutions, nor does it shield a population when political winds shift, as they inevitably will.

In a centralized security state, language rights and cultural crumbs granted by decree don’t ensure physical security. Without independent military capabilities or enforceable federal structures under DAANES, regional minorities, including Kurds, Christians, Druze, and Alawites, are left entirely defenceless against state reprisal and violence from local militias. Liquidating the SDF didn’t bring stability; it destroyed the only credible check on centralized dictatorship in northern Syria.

The Broader Precedent

What happened to Rojava and DAANES in August 2026 transcends regional borders; it’s a repeated warning to any future ally naive enough to trust Western promises. By abandoning the very people who crushed ISIS to satisfy the immediate whims of Middle Eastern authoritarian warlords, Western leaders are sending a message to freedom fighters everywhere that shouldn’t be ignored: dying for Western security earns warm gratitude while the bullets are flying, but those fighters are disposable once the smoke clears.

Rojava’s destruction underscores the need to challenge the superficial morality of Western diplomacy. Sustainable regional stability cannot come at the cost of sacrificing vibrant, pluralistic democracies to appease autocrats. By trading away the DAANES secular experiment for short-term political gains, Western leaders didn’t secure peace; they merely demonstrated the lethal price local allies pay when Western commitments are treated as disposable currency.

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2026 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The post Sacrificing the Kurds, the West abandoned its anti-ISIS allies for politics appeared first on iKurd News.

Nick Kossovan | iKurd.net

“Despite our suffering, nobody cares about us. We have shared our stories, but even then, they have not done anything for us.” – Leyla Telo, a survivor of the Yazidi genocide.

Some films make you “realize.” Ezda, a short documentary film by emerging Kurdish-Canadian filmmaker Halime Aktürk, in which Ezda, a survivor of the Yazidi genocide carried out by ISIS between 2014 and 2017, opens up about her life while in captivity and her efforts to start a new life for herself and her children in Canada, is such a film.

Through Ezda, Halime does a brilliant job of bringing to life the central defining element of Kurdish cinema—presenting the hardships and traumas experienced by Kurds, being honest about what many Kurds are feeling and thinking without being overly guarded or curated.

Additionally impressive is how Ezda touches on the Kurdish geopolitical dichotomy, a topic hardly discussed in the West. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone outside of the Middle East who knows Kurds are the world’s largest ethnic group—thought to number between 36 million and 46 million—without a country. Kurds have no place to call “home.” As a result of persecution, they’ve been forced to settle, such as Ezda did, wherever they could, resulting in Kurds becoming a diasporan international community that stretches across the globe.

As a Yazidi, Ezda’s story has an additional geopolitical layer. There’s a long-running debate about Yazidi identity among Yazidi communities and scholars. Yazidis are generally considered a Kurdish-speaking, endogamous religious group indigenous to Kurdistan. Therefore, Yazidis are regarded as Kurds and, consequently, experience the same geopolitical circumstances as other Kurdish groups in Iraq.

As a result of my upbringing— a father having experienced the post-World War II geopolitical tensions that created the Cold War, which gradually morphed into détente, and the Western media encouraging an “us versus them” divide with the term “Eastern Europe”—I view the world through its many divides, West vs. East, Political Left vs. Political Right, He vs. Her, War Mongering vs. Peace Loving… you get the picture. I look for and, predictably, see the ongoing power struggles over individual and collective (read: governments) self-interests that keep the world in constant disharmony. Therefore, as I watched Ezda, the geopolitical divisiveness that forced Ezda to be part of the Kurdish global diaspora jumped out at me while also triggering a question—again, thanks to my upbringing—I’ve been thinking about for years.

The question: Why do Jews get the support they do to the point of to the point where, in 1948, they were given a homeland: Israel? (Stay with me.)

Whether you love or hate Jews, everyone knows who they are. Even in Asian countries where few Jews live, and many Asians have never met a Jew, Asians have, irrespective of whether good or bad, an opinion about Jews. As I mentioned, generally, people are unaware of Kurds, let alone Yazidis.

Now, most people will say Jews have “worked at” establishing contacts and influence throughout the Western world. Many will add that Jews are influential worldwide due to their significant contributions across various fields, notably science, technology, philosophy, literature, and social and political movements. My take: Jews have made it a point to spread (share) their history and stories everywhere, which can be argued started with the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Bible.  

The power of storytelling manifests in its ability to connect, persuade, and teach. Well-told stories shape our worldview, foster empathy, and drive change by connecting us with each other and making abstract information accessible and memorable. In films, good storytelling makes the audience feel like they’re a part of the story and can leave a lasting impression long after the film is over, as Ezda did on me.

If for no other reason than global “awareness” and “being educated,” Kurdish stories must be told and circulated. As an example, The Exodus story, the central story in Jewish history and the basis of Jewish identity, as depicted in the Hebrew Bible, depicts the Israelites’ liberation from slavery in Egypt under Moses, culminating in the delivery of the Ten Commandments on Mount Sina, is well-known. On the other hand, how many people know of, even heard of, Mem û Zinm by Ehmedê Xanî, a Kurdish classic love story written in 1692 that shares the same theme as Romeo and Juliet, a story that’s universally familiar and is considered a masterpiece of Kurdish literature?

At the risk of appearing to be “assigning responsibility,” Kurdish filmmakers—Bahman Ghobadi, Bina Qeredaxi, Huner Saleem—his 2013 film My Sweet Pepper Land is a must-see—Yesim Ustaoglu, Yilmaz Güney et al., and now Halime Aktürk—are fortunate, dare I say “privileged” to have a platform with which they can increase Western awareness regarding the ongoing Kurdish struggle to end their statelessness. However, Kurds must first overcome what I see as their biggest struggle; to get their voice heard and taken seriously, unencumbered by the Western media machine, which exists for the most part to serve the West’s self-interests. Without looking too Hollywood, Kurdish filmmakers must leverage film’s visual, audio, and storytelling advantages and make it their mission to promote Kurdish stories throughout the West.

I associate with many artists—okay, most are self-deprecating writers and musicians trying to get above all the noise—I often see how a person’s art reflects their character, as I did with Ezda. Halime embodies everything beautiful about the Kurdish spirit. She’s a soft-spoken feminist intellectual whose determination to tell the Kurdish story is truly admirable. While Ezda is Ezda’s story, it’s also a testament to Halime’s ability to bring the Kurdish struggle of persecution and statelessness to the world stage should she choose to.

Currently, Ezda is making the film festival rounds, having been screened at the Hamburg Kurdish Film Festival (Winner: Best Short Documentary), the Berlin Kurdish Film Festival, the New York Kurdish Film Festival, the Canadian Film Festival, the Chicago Kurdish Film Festival and on April 24^th at the Düsseldorf Kurdish Film Festival.

The trailer for Ezda:

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2025 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The post Kurds Need Filmmakers Like Halime Aktürk appeared first on iKurd News.

Earthquake Illustrates How Governments and the Media Geopolitically Divide, Denying Kurdistan’s Existence

Nick Kossovan | Exclusive to iKurd.net

Since my mid-20s, I have been studying two things that fascinate me:

• How someone uses language—the words they chose.
• How political self-interest creates and maintains geopolitical divides.

I believe humanitarian aid should be accessible to anyone—much more so than military aid, which Western governments incur debt to provide almost instantaneously—regardless of background, ethnicity, or geographical location.

As someone who constantly studies the “feel of language,” word usage is extremely important to me, especially when it comes to what words are used and omitted. Therefore, knowing the geopolitical divides that exist in the region where last Monday‘s devastating earthquake occurred and how it serves Turkey, Syria and the West’s interests, it is not surprising that Western media outlets and governments fail to mention that the autonomous region of Kurdistan was also affected by the earthquake.

Mainstream Western media outlets are referring to the earthquake as the “Turkey-Syria Earthquake,” omitting any mention of Kurds even though Kahramanmaraş and Gaziantep, where the epicentre was located, are not majority Kurdish cities but do have a significant Kurdish population. Further east, cities badly affected by the earthquake, such as Urfa and Diyarbakir, the world’s biggest Kurdish city and where the Kurdish movement to declare an independent Kurdistan was born, have a Kurdish-majority population.  

A Moral Compass

I was raised on a Western media diet. (I am not going to say, “I turned out okay.”) It was not until I lived for several years in what is considered “the east” that I saw firsthand the stark contrast in how events are reported. Consequently, I learned that journalism does not have universal ethical standards.

The omission of Kurdistan occurred to me—admittedly not immediately—when Halime Aktürk, a former Kurdish journalist, now an upcoming filmmaker, texted me, “There is no word to describe the pain people are going through in Turkey, Kurdistan and Syria right now.” 

I had used Halime’s words as a moral compass before.

The realization, thanks to Halime, that Western media outlets cherry-picked which regions, geo-cultural territories and ethnicities to mention, and that Kurdish was never mentioned, while disappointing, was not surprising. This was another example of the Kurdish ethnicity being unrecognized. (READ: erased)

In the West, minds are influenced by media-sold narratives in the following way:

Question: After the massive earthquake, how many people changed their bio emoji flag from Ukraine to Turkey, Syria, or Kurdistan’s flag?

Answer: None.

Why?

Because they were not instructed to do so. (We are social creatures and want to conform to the norm.)

Where are all the social media virtue signalling for earthquake victims? There certainly was immediate social media virtue signalling when Russia invaded Ukraine, when Will Smit slapped Chris Rock during the Oscars, and when Iran’s morality police murdered Mahsa Amini.

Since I am on a tangent, I will ask: Why is the US able to send $115 billion in “aid” (tongue in cheek) to Ukraine yet not find some political heart to lift crippling sanctions on Syria, even temporarily, in the wake of the earthquake? 

Geopolitical divides determine whether you are a friend to the US, hence “the West,” or expendable and, in many instances, unrecognized. (e.g., Kurdistan)

Sometimes I feel we are all just selfish pieces of work.

Erdogan’s dichotomy

As I write this, we have, on the one hand, a devasting earthquake that has killed to date more than 33,000 which will inevitably increase and an election scheduled to take place on June 18 in which Turkey’s President, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, is running for re-election. (NOTE: Erdogan had said, prior to the earthquake, that the election might be held as early as May 14.) Talk about a dichotomy! 

History is instructive. In 2011, twin earthquakes near the Kurdish-majority city of Van led to the deaths of at least 600 people. The Turkish government’s aid provision was “questionable,” as officials decided, on a case-by-case basis, who would receive emergency tents. Moreover, the Turkish government systematically prevented aid from reaching Kurdish-majority cities.

Just as in 2011, Turkey’s issue with its Kurdish population is influencing humanitarian assistance to the February 6th earthquake. In response to Erdogan’s cracked down on visible instances of intra-Kurdish solidarity, Kurdish relief foundations have had to work covertly. 

I see Erdogan’s actions as a waste of an opportunity to gain international goodwill, something Turkey desperately needs, especially with Erdogan’s attempts to impose his will on NATO.

However naive, there is an argument to be made that the conditions are right for Turkey and Kurdistan to engage in “earthquake diplomacy” if Erdogan would only see the earthquake as an opportunity to reimage Turkey’s relationship with its Kurdish citizens. (It would be too wild of a stretch to expect Turkey’s government, under Erdogan, also to take a step towards recognizing Kurdistan’s existence.) 

I present this thesis because Greek and Turkish foreign ministers George Papandreou and Ismail Cem capitalized on the earthquake in Izmit near Istanbul on August 17, 1999, which killed over 17,000 people, to reconfigure Turkey-Greece relations. Erdogan’s reputation would be bolstered by a new peace initiative in the run-up to Turkey’s Presidential elections.

Unfortunately, the present situation is very different from that of the 1990s. In 1999, Turkey leaned more towards Europe. Today, Erdogan plays the tension card with the Kurds and anyone who opposes his political ideology and has not forcibly shoved Russia away when it invades Ukraine, away like the West has.

Wishful thinking

I know what I just described is wishful thinking. The above-mentioned can only occur if Erdogan is convinced that his self-interest and political survival depend on a dialogue with Turkey’s estimated 14,000,000 Kurds. Unfortunately, it does not. Turkey’s history, and Erdogan’s personal record, have shown that in the aftermath of natural disasters, more, not less, anti-Kurdish repression is likely to follow. 

Additionally, Erdogan is astute enough to know that the main opposition party, The National Alliance, has failed to convince voters that they are a force for change. Furthermore, millions of Turkish citizens affected by the earthquake are currently homeless; they are far less likely to be able or want to turn out to vote. When voter turnout is low, hardliners profit; thus, a low turnout would give Erdogan’s right-wing coalition a winning edge. 

To show that his self-interests take priority over helping his citizens, in a move meant to bolster rescue efforts and reconstruction Erdogan declared a three-month state of emergency covering the country’s 10 southern provinces hit by the earthquake and then went ahead with Turkish forces bombing Kurdish militia positions in Syria.

Due to Erdogan’s targeting of Kurds, Turkish society has become militarized as well as divisive between Turks and Turkey’s citizens of Kurdish origin. Promoting divisive narratives is an effective political strategy worldwide, not just in the West. Why people keep buying into such narratives has me questioning the nature of humanity.

Furthermore, Erdogan has undermined US-Turkey relations because Kurds in Syria are America’s main ally in a multinational coalition against ISIS, which is why he accuses the West of enabling terrorism, which is why I believe no US administration while Erdogan has been in power, has made any serious attempts to mediate an end to Turkey’s war on Kurds. Optics plays a critical role when it comes to navigating when and how to cross geopolitical divides.

The Turkish government has its self-interests. The US government, which undeniably leads the West, has its self-interests. Here is another dichotomy, if someone sins differently than you, who are you to judge them? The world is full of contradictory truths that keep our discourses alive.

For the moment, the earthquake has relieved much of the mounting political tension for upcoming elections. Besides the blatant xenophobic resentment of Kurdish and Syrian refugees, Turks of all political stripes were finger-pointing at each other regarding Turkey’s hyperinflation, censorship, high housing costs, and security issues. Once the impact of this tragic event is over—reporting on the earthquake is already dimming—becoming I am sure Erdogan will return to evangelizing highly nationalistic and divisive policies that he feels will win him the election.

Puzzling

It is puzzling that Erdogan still fails to recognize the damage his government’s treatment of the Kurds has done to Turkey’s international standing as a democracy and an economic leader.

While the US most likely will not exert its diplomatic and economic leverage on Turkey in the wake of this week’s natural disaster to advance Turkey socially and economically, which ironically would serve its interests, this does not mean Erdogan cannot put aside geopolitical and cultural divides and view the earthquake as a historic opportunity for Turkey to change course, thus creating a legacy of peace rather than oppression. 

Unfortunately, as with most political leaders, Erdogan’s story is about power. Every politician wants to be seen as a powerful leader in the face of a problem, especially during a crisis. However, millions of people are homeless, looming medical disasters, and a death toll expected to surpass 50,000, according to the UN relief chief Martin Griffiths. This natural disaster is beyond Erdogan’s power. 

However, putting aside differences—Yes, I am putting it mildly—is not beyond his power. It is well with his power to do what’s right for all those within Turkey’s border and its surrounding neighbours who have seen their lives destroyed in a matter of moments. I hope Erdogan soon sees compassion as another avenue to serve his self-interest at home and abroad.

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2023 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The post Earthquake exposes geopolitical divide and denial of Kurdistan’s existence appeared first on iKurd News.

Nick Kossovan | Exclusive to iKurd.net

The views expressed are the author’s alone.

If everyone is guilty of something, is no one guilty of anything?

Morality doesn’t pick sides. It doesn’t care about borders, political ideologies, socio-economic status, religions, genders, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation or whether you like pineapple on your pizza. (Have I covered everything we use to divide ourselves?). 

There’s good, and there’s bad. Bad behaviour is bad behaviour. Yes, it’s that simple—it’s that black and white. However, these days calling out bad behaviour is fraught with self-righteous deflection. 

Increasingly, the following scenario occurs.

You’ll be having a conversation. Perhaps over coffee, a few drinks, or a meal. Inevitably Russia will come up, or Trudeau, or Biden. Your conversation partner bought into the social pressure that they’re a Russian sympathizer if they don’t stand by Ukraine as we’re being told to do.

Finally, you give in to your animal instinct and ask the “elephant in the room” questions. “Obama launched airstrikes in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Libya, Yemen, Somalia and Pakistan. Where was the outrage then?” or “Canada sanctions Russia for invading Ukraine. Why did Canada not sanction the U.S. when it invaded Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Libya, etc.?” 

Yay freethinkers!

Have the nerve to mention the “mistakes,” made by our side, and the blended word whataboutism will be used against you. (Fun fact, “whataboutism” was added to the dictionary in October 2021.)

In philosophy, whataboutism is known as “tu quoque,” pointing out hypocrisy. I’ve yet to meet a person who doesn’t become defensive when their hypocrisy, or their side’s hypocrisy, is pointed out.

When Michael Corleone, in Godfather II, said, “Senator, we are all part of the same hypocrisy,” he eloquently, I would even say artistically, used whataboutism to neutralize any sense of moral superiority Senator Geary felt he had over him.

Michael understood that his hypocrisy served his interests, and his family’s and that the same hypocrisy served the senator’s interests. The hypocrisy the U.S. uses to serve and protect its interests is the same hypocrisy Russia, Turkey, China, U.K.—all nations—use to serve and protect their interests.

As to why Canada didn’t sanction the U.S. when it invaded Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Libya et al.; it’s in Canada’s best interest to take a hypocritical stance of not showing disapproval of its southern neighbour’s wrongdoings and sometimes going as far as supporting the U.S.’s wrongdoings.

Whataboutism was coined during the postwar years when American-Russian relations were rather tense, and the following back-and-forth occurred:

The Soviet Union would commit a crime, according to the West. Washington would call them on it. The Kremlin would then point out that the U.S. was also committing heinous acts. These accusations would contain the phrase “What about …” and point out America’s Jim Crow laws, which until the Civil Rights Act of 1964 weren’t entirely extinct, the U.S.’s bombing sprees, or any other embarrassing facts about the West. The U.S., and its western allies, began responding to the Russian critique by labelling it “Whataboutism.” American intellectuals would later use the term “moral equivalence.”

Whataboutism in action a few years back: Obama laments about Putin’s 2014 invasion and seizure of Crimea. In response, Putin mentions Kosovo and the Scottish Independence Referendum.

Russia’s crimes are well known, as are Western (e.g., Apartheid, Israeli–Palestinian conflict, Turkish-Kurdish conflict, systemic racism, U.S.-led war in Iraq, human rights violations against immigrants, indigenous people, Guantánamo Bay). Conveniently, mainstream scholars have never pointed out that all nations are amoral and capable of committing great evil.

Western countries sell themselves as “developed” and “democratic.” They’re quick to criticize countries they dislike. The world cheered when Ukrainians stocked up Molotov cocktails and took up arms against the Russians. However, when Palestinians and Iraqis do the same thing, they’re labelled “terrorists.”

Whatever you call it: whataboutism, moral equivalence, two wrongs, double standards, it boils down to this: My side isn’t subject to the same moral rules as the other side. My side has excusing factors for what it did. (or is doing) 

What nonsense! There isn’t one moral law for the goose and another for the gander. Moral rules are universal. Whatever your political stance, whatever your geopolitical background, crime is crime, racism is racism, hypocrisy is hypocrisy, and human rights violations are human rights violations.

People who have the courage to be a libertarian thinker understand this: If it’s wrong when Stephen Harper did it, it’s wrong when Justin Trudeau does it. If Trump’s sexual predations were wrong, so were Bill Clinton’s predations. If Russia launching missiles at Ukrainians is wrong, then Turkey’s aerial bombing of Kurdish civilians is also wrong. 

Western media tries to explain why our wrongs are less bad, less evil, and excusable, than the wrongs of “the other side.” Wrong is wrong regardless of who does it. 

Whataboutism doesn’t just point to historical wrongdoings.

Trudeau letting in an unlimited number of Ukrainian refugees begs the “what about” question, why isn’t he doing the same for Afghans, Syrians, etc., refugees? You can draw your own conclusions as to the reasons why.

A question such as this comes across as being centrist. Actually, “what about” questions are far from ambivalent. Moral clarity requires disruptive conversations—uncomfortable conversations. Moral clarity condemns self-interest and the even worse self-serving consensus talk for the high-grade cowardly drivel it is.

Here’s an example. If there’s one thing both sides of Washington’s political divide agree on, and Canadians look at enviously, that is the virtue and beauty of U.S. force projection. Based on their actions Democrat and Republican presidents as far back as Harry S. Truman, seem to have a fondest for bombing poor people in distant lands. Pundits love it. Western foreign policy establishments love it. Western mainstream media love it.

But this is utter insanity. If bombing Americans is wrong, then bombing the people of Yemen is wrong. No one—not even those who speculate on the geopolitical reasons for Russia going into Ukraine—disagrees with condemning the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

However, ignoring that the U.S. has been violating other nations’ sovereignty—Chile, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Argentina, Iraq, Iran, Brazil, Angola, Zaire, Cuba, Libya, Afghanistan, China to name a few—for years is hypocritical.

It doesn’t matter what gets hashed out in bipartisan meetings; ethical standards are universal.

The Ukrainian resistance and the civilian victims of Russia’s invasion are given sympathetic coverage by Western media. This raises the “what about” question of why there hasn’t been a comparable response when the victims aren’t white, Christian Europeans or when the aggressor is the U.S. or a U.S. ally? The double standards and resulting hypocrisy coming out of Washington, and the West, is obvious.

A recent example: President Joe Biden asserted that “nations have a right to sovereignty and territorial integrity.” He is 100% on point! However, the U.S. is the only government to formally recognize Israel’s illegal occupation of Syria’s Golan Heights and Morocco’s annexation of the entire nation of Western Sahara, both seized by force in defiance of the United Nations. See the hypocrisy?

Another recent example: Despite the decree issued by Joe Biden on October 7, 2021, Washington didn’t react to Turkey’s attacks targeting civilians in Rojava. Such blatant hypocrisy invites “what about” questions.

Two Nations Clinging Onto ‘What Once Was.’

Regardless of your political stripes, it’s easy to see two declining superpowers—a corrupt and morally bankrupt America and the crumbling oligarchy of Putin’s Russia—trying to hang onto what once was. Today the U. S. is an imploding republic whose global influence is dwindling, while Russia is a rusted-out autocracy that can barely project strength outside of its neighbourhood.

These different “Rome is burning” scenarios don’t give Washington the right to one set of moral laws and Moscow to another set. The moral arc of the universe doesn’t bend that way. When Washington accuses Russia of hacking America’s elections, then moral seriousness demands it addresses U.S. interference in past Russian elections.

If it’s wrong for Iran to oppress women, then it’s wrong for Saudi Arabia to oppress women. If China is barbaric for using capital punishment, so is the U.S. If the U.S. recognizes the Republic of Kosovo, it should recognize Kurdish self-determination in Kurdistan and Rojava as well.

Isn’t all oppression of women wrong? Isn’t all capital punishment barbaric? Shouldn’t the desire for self-determination be listened to empathically and at the very least applauded?

Only when self-interest is removed from the equation will the answer be a universal “Yes!”

Whataboutism is the complaint of the intellectually lazy. One person’s whataboutism is another person’s pointing out similar cases to support an analogy. Someone who say, “That’s whataboutism!” doesn’t like the connecting of dots.

Those who use the term whataboutism do so to deflect the hypocrisy being pointed out, especially if it’s hypocrisy the West benefits from. As long as there are double standards that serve our interests, there’ll always be those who’ll say, when asked a “what about” question, “That’s whataboutism!”—what can you do?

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2022 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The post ‘Whataboutism,’ Is There Such a Thing? appeared first on iKurd News.

Nick Kossovan | iKurd.net

It began with growing up in an unhappy home in Istanbul.

My mother was a sad alcoholic, my father a bookkeeper for a local manufacturer of men’s shirts.

More than once, when we were alone, my father advised me, “Get an education, Burak. Work smarter—marry better than I did.”

Being an only child, my father gave me permission to adopt one of the many stray dogs which roamed our district, Gazi Mahallesi. The dog I chose I named Hêvî, the Kurdish word for “hope.”

I wouldn’t hazard a guess what breed or mix Hêvî was. For months, on my walk to and from school, I would see him wandering alone, not with the packs the other strays would keep themselves with. His fur was dirty and matted; however, I could tell he was golden brown. I imagined what he would look like after I bathed him. His eyes were wide, constantly darting back and forth, his ears were flat. Somehow, I knew Hêvî, and I would get along.

Hêvî and I started our friendship in early October when I dropped my lunch pail right in front of Ovacık Market while taking my usual route to school. Inegol kofte and kisir, leftovers from last night’s dinner my father had made while my mother was out at our local meyhane, where her tolerance for raki had become legendary, spilled on the sidewalk. Hêvî happened to be sniffing around the garbage bin next to the market.

The metallic clang the lid made caught Hêvî’s attention. He looked up in my direction. For a moment, we stared at each other, then Hêvî looked at the spilt food and back at me. I crouched down.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I can’t eat this now. You can have it.” I then stood up and pointed to the mess I had made.

Hêvî scrutinized me with wondering eyes, his head tilted to the right. I bent down and picked up my lunch pail and lid.

“I’ve got to get to school, so this is all yours—enjoy!”

Hêvî eyes followed me as I walked past him to continue my walk to school. I was a few metres away when I heard Hêvî noisily lapping up the food. I turned around and watched Hêvî satisfy his hunger with the meaty meal.

“That’s a boy, Hêvî!” I called out. It was the first time I called him “Hêvî.” He raised his head, glanced in my direction, barked and went back to eating. Knowing the other strays would soon be catching the scent of the food and start congregating on it, I accept Hêvî’s brief thanks and let him go back to finishing his meal.

Over the following months Hêvî, and I got to know each other. After much pleading on my part, I would spend the few liras my father would occasionally give me as spending money on dog treats. This required me to go to Istanbul’s better districts, such as Besiktas, Kadikoy, and Maltepe. I imagined my mother sitting with middle-aged businessmen at the upscale bars in these districts, sipping red wine while giving a smile of approval to the attention given to her.

On the last day of January, Istanbul received snow. A week later, another snowfall blanketed the city. It was time to take Hêvî home, which my father said I could as long as he slept on the balcony. “As it is, your mother has a lot to deal with already. This dog will be entirely your responsibility. At night he’s to sleep on the balcony. You are only to feed him our table scraps. He’s to eat in the kitchen, and you are to walk him as needed. Do you understand?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

My father brought home a bag of scrap material from his work, which I lined the bottom of a wooded fruit crate I had found. This would be Hêvî’s bed. I placed it on our narrow balcony. A few days later, I saw Hêvî sleeping in a doorway. I woke him and asked if he would like to come home with me. Hêvî barked, which I took as a “Yes!”

“Well then, let’s go,” I said, and Hêvî followed me home. It was that easy.

For my mother, Hêvî was the best thing ever to happen to her. I never spoke to her about Hêvî, only to my father, who must have told her about my plans to bring him home to live with us. When I walked in with Hêvî, her first words were, “He needs a bath right now.”

The bath, which was a struggle, proved I was right; Hêvî fur was golden brown. With her permission, I used my mother’s shampoo, which made Hêvî smell of lavender. When I brought Hêvî out into the living room, my mother, with a glass of Kentucky bourbon in her hand, asked, “Where’s he’s going to sleep?”

“You haven’t noticed the bed Burak made out our balcony?” answered my father from the kitchen.

“I can’t recall the last time I went out on the balcony—it’s been cold for weeks.”

Hêvî decided to bark right then.

“Even the dog agrees it’s cold. He’s sleeping in here. Burak, place—what’s his name?”

“Hêvî”

“Place Hevi’s bed in the kitchen, next to the pantry.”

I glanced at my father, who was now standing in the kitchen doorway. He looked defeated. “Do as your mother ask.”

When I brought Hêvî’s bed into the kitchen, my mother was placing a bowl of water and a plate of minced meat on the floor.

“I hope the meat won’t be too spicy for Hêvî,” she said as she reached for the bottle of bourbon on the counter and began pouring herself another drink. She then poured what seemed to be a generous amount of bourbon into the bowl of water. “He’ll sleep better, this being his first night here.”

The minced meat gave Hêvî gas which I heard him letting off throughout the night. My mother was right; the bourbon made Hêvî sleep peacefully—he just snored and expelled gas. It was probably the most fitful sleep Hêvî had in a very long time.

My mother insisted she looked after Hêvî’s diet. My only responsibility was to walk him after school. However, every day I would come home to find Hêvî alone, my mother having gone to the meyhane or was passed out on her bed or our couch. I often would have to wake Hêvî’ and try to walk him, while mostly be stumbled, around the block at least once. “What is she doing to you?” I would ask as Hêvî tried to relieve himself without falling over.

For the first time, I could vividly recall my mother being happy. Hêvî made her happy, and she started bringing him to the meyhane. “You don’t have to walk him now, and everyone at the meyhane loves Hêvî. A few of the regulars bring treats for him. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Taking Hêvî with you is okay—it’s you giving him alcohol that bothers me,” I said.

“Why? It keeps him calm.”

“It keeps him drunk, and he makes messes throughout the apartment that Burak has to clean up,” injected my father, trying to defend me.

“He’ll get used to it,” replied my mother.

Two months shy of what would have been her thirty-seventh birthday, my mother went to the meyhane and did not come home. I guess Hêvî did not make her as happy as much as I thought.

Since I did not give Hêvî alcohol, he went into withdrawal. His sleep became restless. Our relationship changed. I was now just someone who fed and sheltered him.

Today, at fifty-two, I’m single and unemployed.

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2022 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The post Hêvî Come Home! appeared first on iKurd News.

Nick Kossovan | iKurd.net

There’s no one size fits all feminism.

Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, Naomi Klein, and Tarana Burke, who started the #MeToo movement back in 2006, et al. have done a condemnable job analyzing and criticizing the effects the remains of Western patriarchal society have on women not having equal participation and more importantly access to, opportunities men take for granted.

Even Simone de Beauvoir, credited with paving the way for modern feminism, book “The Second Sex” (1949) was finger-pointing without offering solutions. Western feminism has never had a solid mandate and therefore continues to be rudderless.

Then there’s Kurdish feminism which I first encountered when I met Halime Aktürk, a former Turkish journalist. I know several self-proclaiming “feminists.” However, I’ve never known, nor do I believe I ever will, a self-identifying feminist who has the conviction Halime has. Halime knows her terms and projects a strong sense of “self,” which earned my utmost respect.

My truth: Most of my ‘life guidance’ and ‘life lessons’ have been from women. This is likely why I have a romantic view of the human condition.

Having read western feminists’ writings, and Norman Mailer for the “other side” perspective, I know feminist activists have clarified many questions for women. However, as Halime pointed out to me, simply asking questions isn’t enough for Kurdish women—they’re in a crisis.

The Ottoman Empire collapse created a crisis for Kurdish women

History, like all stories handed down, is a complicated bargain.

The crises Kurdish women are experiencing today began with the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in 1922. The downfall divided the Kurds’ territory among three newly established countries: Iraq, Syria, and Turkey. Since then, each country has been attempting to impose its dominant ethnic identity as the respective country’s “national identity” and, therefore, eliminate any Kurdish identity. This has resulted in a Kurdish narrative that challenges Iraq, Syria and Turkey’s respective assimilation policy of imposing one identity over their territories’ ethnically and culturally different inhabitants.

On July 24, 1923, the Treaty of Lausanne was signed. The treaty led to the international recognition of the sovereignty of the new Republic of Turkey as the successor state of the Ottoman Empire and gave Kurdistan back to Turkey while failing to recognize Kurds existed.

That same year some 65 laws aimed at destroying Kurdish identity by renaming them “Mountain Turks,” outlawing the use of the Kurdish language, making Kurdish celebrations illegal, changing Kurdish names of streets, villages, businesses, etc. to “proper Turkish names,” confiscating huge tracts of Kurdish communal lands and eliminating all Kurdish or Kurd-sympathetic organizations or political parties.

Holistically the entire epic of the Kurdish people is their struggle to liberate themselves to create their own society. Kurds, especially those who live in Kurdistan (“Land of the Kurds”), a loosely defined area bordering Iran, Syria and Turkey, carry the hope of one day becoming emancipated slaves.

Today, roughly 32 million Kurds are spread across Armenia, Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey. Kurds, caught up in bad faith geopolitics that has oppressed them for generations, constitute the world’s largest stateless nation. Using intersectional lens clarifies that Kurdish women are subjected to a “dual oppression” based on ethnicity and gender; thus, being the ideology architect for Kurdish feminism.

Halime’s strong feminist convictions (Only the hard and strong can call themselves a Kurdish feminist.) are the by-product of her experiences being Kurdish in Turkey, where along with Kurdish cultural oppression, patriarchal cultural hands are constantly present to keep women in their place.

Something extraordinary is happening in Rojava

There’s a revolution in northern Syria, led by Kurdish feminism (aka. Jineology), that challenges everything the West has bought into about economics, government, society, and above all freedom.

The revolution is a fight to experiment with unconditional democracy—to create a way of life that values feminism, direct democracy, ecological stewardship, ethnic, linguistic, and religious pluralism.

The structures of oppression, rooted in the state, nationalism, capitalism, cultural conventions, and patriarchy—disguised as “assimilation policies”—are what the “Rojava Revolution,” which began on July 19, 2012, is seeking to surmount.

Rojava, the Kurdish name for western Kurdistan, is an autonomous region in northeastern Syria that has exercised autonomy since the breakout of the Syrian Civil War in 2011. Cradled between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, Rojava is considered the breadbasket of Syria. It’s a little-known story that defies the usual depictions that find their way to the west regarding Syria or Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS).

Rojava, home to approximately 2.5 million people, is divided into three districts (Afrin, Jazira, and Kobanî). It’s governed by a coalition of six political parties called the Movement for a Democratic Society (TEV-DEM), headed by the Democratic Union Party (PYD).

They practice a governance model called Democratic Confederalism (democracy without a state), a kind of libertarian socialism theorized by imprisoned Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) leader Abdullah Öcalan. This “governance model” began an extraordinary project of self-government and equality for all races, religions, women, and men. This project has led to the Rojava Revolution, which by default challenges domination by Western colonial powers and Syrian president Bashar al-Assad’s regime.

In 2011 the civil uprising in Syria, known as the Arab Spring, escalated into the Syrian Civil War. The Syrian state withdrew from northeastern Syria, and the Kurdish liberation movement saw their window of opportunity.

Less than three years later, the Kurdish movement had transformed their revolutionary vision into a revolutionary society by liberating Rojava’s three districts: Cizîre, Kobanî, and Afrîn.

In January 2014, the regions united to issue a declaration of democratic autonomy manifesting their unique political ideology, grounded in Öcalan’s writings and ideas.

People fighting to experiment with their own path to all-inclusive democracy makes the Rojava Revolution an interesting Middle East phenomenon—the political character doesn’t fit familiar pigeonholes. The revolution isn’t a nationalist Kurdish initiative for an independent state, doesn’t evangelize socialism, nor is fueled by religious or ethnic motives.

Instead, it attempts to establish an autonomous society based on democratic autonomy, environmentalism, feminism, and gender equality principles. In 2021 attempting, at the feet of oppressors, to create a democratic society, which incorporates all differences and gives women an equal place, is seen by many as naive.

Here in the west, we’ve become cynical to the idea that anything can really change. So, conducting an experiment in unconditional freedom in one of the most dangerous parts of the world against enemies who are absurdly repressive and violent would appear to be a Hollywood invention.

Besides aiming to create a genuinely all-inclusive democracy, the Rojava Revolution is unique because women and feminist teachings have a crucial role in the territorial, political, cultural, and ideological liberation of Rojava.

Women often lead the fight on the front lines, sacrificing their lives against the most archaic and anti-woman enemy: ISIS. This display of female martyrdom makes, in my opinion, the Rojava Revolution the most defining feminist activism the world has ever witnessed.

Unfortunately, other than occasionally portraying Kurdish women as fierce fighters combating ISIS oppression, the revolution is hardly ever brought to light in the west.

An important aspect of women’s liberation in Rojava has been the Women’s Protection Units (YPJ), founded on April 3, 2013, as an all-women brigade of the People’s Protection Units (YPG). When they shoot at ISIS fighters YPJ fighters often make a high-pitched hollering sound to make them aware they’re being attacked by women. In Islam, it’s believed if you’re killed by a woman, you’ll not get into paradise.

Since the nineteenth century, and before that, in the broader Middle East, the female body has been one of the most crucial symbolic battlegrounds between modernizers and reactionaries.

On a side note, much of the Middle East’s hatred against Israel stems from the freedom it gives women to be equal to men, recognizing the LGBQT community, and allowing gay marriage. (Israel is the only country in the Middle East to do so.)

The Rojava model is based on two main pillars. The first pillar is direct democracy as the basis of a communalist system—citizens actively participate in decision-making and manage their neighbourhood and city, and government. (READ: self-government) The second pillar is the denial of the nation-state structure and viewpoint.

In Rojava, many different religious and ethnic groups—Arabs, Armenians, Chechens, Christians, Turkmens, Yezidis—live together with the Kurdish majority. By officially and insistently denying the nation-state and creating administrative structures that incorporate these different citizens, the Rojava model gives minorities a participatory role unprecedented in the Middle East—a role as equals in managing their community.

Could this attempt to effectively integrate the different ethnic groups and religions in one participative democratic system that respects people and the environment ever succeed in reality?

History has shown that many such attempts either faded ingloriously or ended in carnage. The Spanish Civil War would be equivalent to Rojava’s current situation (July 17, 1936 – April 1, 1939), when the Democrats tried to set up something different. While many disagree, there are many parallels between the Kurdish women fighters today and those who were ‘Mujeres Libres.’ (Spanish women fighters)

Unfortunately, the Spanish revolution bathed Spain in blood, and the country entered a dark period that lasted almost forty years. Many other examples throughout history would suggest that sooner or later, all this goodwill and this willingness of the people in Rojava will fail. Reasons range from human nature, leftist dogmatism being unpalatable to the pointlessness of war and the number of fatalities becoming overwhelming.

Jineology fuels the Rojava Revolution

Everything in Rojava seems to be in a grey area, somewhere between the old Syria and something new that has yet to take shape. The dichotomies created are between tradition and modernity, gradual change and revolutionary overthrow, and war and peace.

Rojava is comparable to a living laboratory where everything is on a long road towards being violently created.

As mentioned earlier, the Rojava Revolution isn’t defending a political ideology or seeking to create a nation-state. It’s a struggle for gender equality and bringing to fruition a just society.

The fuel for this ongoing struggle is jineology, a women’s science created by the Kurdish Women’s Freedom Movement. Jineology, developed in 2008, places women at the center of a battle against patriarchy, cultural legacies, capitalism, and the state.

For those of you hearing about jineology for the first time, jineology, composed of two words: jin, the Kurdish word for “woman,” and logos, Greek for “word” or “reason,” is both an outcome and a beginning.

It is the outcome of the dialectical progress of the Kurdish women’s movement and a start to respond to the contradictions and problems of modern society, economics, health, education, ecology, ethics, and aesthetics. Arguably jineology is a form of feminism suited to the region it was developed in and may not easily transition to the west, even as an appendage to Western feminism.

While Western feminism has questioned the issues jineology is trying to address, they remain influenced by the reigning social arching conventions heavily influenced by the many agendas western capitalism requires. As a result, Western feminists have distorted the problems at hand, particularly the relationship between men and women. Jineology proposes a new analysis of these fields, starting with women not being viewed as isolated beings, that socialization begins with women.

In staying true to jineology, the Kurdish movement has set up 40% women quotas in their organizations. In addition, they’ve created women-only organizations parallel to mixed-gender ones and women’s neighbourhood assemblies, academies, and cooperatives and introduced a co-leadership system with one woman and one man at the head of any administrative body including in municipalities under the control of pro-Kurdish parties.

The dilemma with other women’s movements

When a different paradigm, or to think from a different perspective, is proposed, Western feminists feel their feminism is being replaced. This isn’t the case. Differing perspectives and divisive opinions are seen in Western feminism, like when black feminists criticize white feminists for taking only one—middle-class white—perspective and trying to solve all the problems women face worldwide with the same methodology.

One method of advocacy won’t apply to many of the issues women face within their respective region. A queer feminist theory may be listened to or even adopted in Europe but forbidden in Egypt, Iraq, or Nigeria.

The women risking their lives in Rojava are fighting to create a stateless society based on ideals of freedom and equality as they resist fanatic butchers seeking to kill every one of them. For the YPJ/YPG women fighters, the Rojava Revolution is a zero-sum game.

Western feminists question the gender inequality of our social norms and is slowly eroding them, which is to be applauded. However, they’re not fighting a diehard enemy and therefore never had to approach their “activism” as a zero-sum game, which makes me wonder if they shouldn’t.

Halime showed me a different way of thinking, and everything in my life began to change. Maybe if Western feminists adopted a different way of thinking (I’m not saying jineology is the answer.), the equality that Western feminists have been seeking for well over 100 years would be our social norms today.

Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto. You can follow Nick on Twitter and Instagram @NKossovan. He is an occasional contributing writer for iKurd.net.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.

Copyright © 2021 iKurd.net. All rights reserved

The post The Rojava Revolution Has Lessons for Western Feminism appeared first on iKurd News.