By: Dr. Adnan Bozan

I followed and carefully read most of the comments written in response to my previous article, “When Knowledge Recedes, the Tribe Returns: On the Setback of Kurdish Awareness in Kobani.” I was not looking for praise or approval in those comments as much as I was looking for an answer to a question that is far more serious and important: Is there still a part of the Kurdish people that understands that what is happening is not merely a passing social phenomenon, but rather an indication of a profound dysfunction in the course of political and social consciousness for which the Kurds have paid a heavy price?

The truth I came away with from reading those comments was more painful than the phenomenon itself. Most of those who wrote them were not ordinary people, but members of the educated elite, politicians, officials of parties and organizations, and members of the older political generation who experienced repression, imprisonment, persecution, torture, displacement, and exile. They knew firsthand what it meant for a human being to be stripped of the right to express himself, to be persecuted because of his name and identity, to be imprisoned for saying a word, and to be forced to leave his land and homeland. These people, before anyone else, know that a society pushed from politics toward tribalism, from citizenship toward fanaticism, and from thought toward personal loyalty does not move forward; rather, it retreats backward.

Therefore, the real question is no longer: Are we against the return of tribalism? Most of us would answer: Yes. The question that must confront all of us is instead: What have we done to prevent it?

Here the problem begins, and here the Kurdish elite faces its real test. We have become skilled at diagnosing the disease, but incapable of producing the remedy. We know the danger, describe it accurately, write about it, and discuss it in gatherings and on various platforms, and then return to our homes and offices as though nothing had happened.

We know that tribalism is not a modern political project for the Kurds, and that returning society to the logic of the tribe, clan, and local leadership cannot be an alternative to political awareness, citizenship, and institutions. We know that the Kurdish person who has paid with his life and dignity for his political and national belonging cannot be reduced to the name of a tribe, a family, or a position of social prominence. Yet despite knowing all this, we allow this trajectory to expand before our eyes.

Here we must pause for a long while, because the issue is no longer about one tribe here or one family there, nor about an individual seeking to restore his social influence, nor about a local phenomenon in a particular city or region. The issue is much deeper: What remains of Kurdish political consciousness?

What remains of that generation that saw politics as a means of liberating the human being, rather than a means of obtaining a position? What remains of the intellectual who placed the interests of the people above the interests of the party? What remains of the politician who understood that political disagreement does not mean turning society into competing islands? And what remains of the person who saw his future as part of the future of an entire people, rather than as a personal or family project?

We have reached a painful paradox: many parties, institutions, organizations, intellectuals, activists, media outlets, and endless political discourses; yet when the issue reaches a moment that requires a shared political will, we find ourselves incapable even of agreeing on the minimum level of priorities. This is the real predicament.

The problem is not merely the multiplicity of parties, nor the abundance of political figures, nor the diversity of currents. The problem is that Kurdish politics in Syria has, until now, been unable to transform this diversity into an organized political force. Instead, diversity has often turned into division, division into hostility, hostility into mutual accusations of treason, and such accusations into obstruction, while others move forward in building their political and strategic projects.

Here, we must speak frankly, however painful the words may be: no Kurdish party has the right to place itself above the people; no political figure has the right to treat the Kurdish cause as a party possession; no political current has the right to reduce the Kurds to itself; and no party has the right to speak on behalf of all Kurds without genuine political and societal consensus.

The Kurdish reality is not one party, one current, or one project. But the existence of multiple projects does not mean that we must remain prisoners of disagreement.

The Kurds can disagree over the form of the state, the degree of decentralization, the nature of the relationship between the center and the regions, economic and social programs, regional and international alliances, political methods, and interpretations of history. But there are issues that cannot be subject to bargaining or fragmentation: the dignity of the Kurdish person, recognition of Kurdish existence, national, cultural, and linguistic rights, political equality, the prevention of discrimination, guarantees of political participation, protection of the people from policies of forced demographic change, and rejection of turning the Kurds into instruments in the conflicts of others.

These do not belong to any party, leader, or tribe. They belong to the people. Every political force has a duty to treat them as common ground, not as an instrument for political competition or one-upmanship.

More dangerous still is that the Syrian reality is not waiting for anyone. Syria has entered a new political phase, and with it has begun a reordering of state institutions, relations among forces, and the position of different components, while the Kurdish question and issues of rights, representation, decentralization, and the nature of the relationship with the center remain subjects of negotiation and conflict.

At such a moment, the Kurds do not have the luxury of wasting time on internal conflicts. Political vacuums do not remain empty. If we do not fill them ourselves, others will. If we do not define our place on the political map, others will define it on our behalf. And if we do not produce our own political vision, we may ultimately find ourselves inside a vision that we did not create.

What is required is not that we all agree on one party, nor that we abolish disagreement, nor that we return to a rigid political formula under the slogan of unity. What is required is simpler and deeper: that we agree on the interests of the people before the interests of the organization.

This is the starting point.

For the greatest catastrophe to have struck Kurdish politics is not merely partisan division, but the transformation of some parties from instruments for serving the people into ends in themselves. When the party becomes more important than the people, the catastrophe begins. When the leader becomes more important than the cause, the catastrophe begins. When personal relationships become more important than the political project, the catastrophe begins. When external funding becomes more important than independent political decision-making, the catastrophe begins. And when partisan calculations become more important than the future of generations, the catastrophe begins.

And when society returns to the tribe because the political elites have failed to provide a comprehensive national project, this is not merely a problem caused by the tribe. It is an indictment of the failure of the political elite to fulfill its historical function.

We cannot always blame the people. If the political elite leaves the people without a project, the people will search for an alternative. If citizens do not find an institution that protects their interests, they may return to the family. If they do not find a state that protects them, they may seek refuge in the tribe. If they do not find a party that represents their voice, they may look for a local leader. And when people lose their trust in institutions, they will naturally seek the nearest social circle that gives them a sense of security.

This does not mean exonerating tribalism and clan-based politics, but it does explain one of the reasons for their return. Therefore, confronting tribalism cannot be achieved through a moral lecture about its disadvantages; it must be confronted by building the alternative.

Build institutions, and the tribe will recede.
Build politics, and personal loyalty will recede.
Build citizenship, and fanaticism will recede.
Build the rule of law, and the influence of social prestige will recede.
Build a genuine civil society, and the logic of traditional leadership will recede.

But to leave people without a project and then blame them because they searched for an alternative social refuge is not a solution. It is an escape from the root of the problem.

There is another question we must not evade: Why do some forces benefit from returning the people to this condition?

I am not saying that every manifestation of tribalism is externally manufactured, nor should an entire political analysis be built upon conspiracy theory. But it would also be political naivety to behave as though regional and international powers do not exploit social and political divisions.

Every political force searches for points of strength and weakness within the societies with which it interacts. A divided people is easier to contain than a cohesive one. A society preoccupied with family conflicts is easier to influence than a society possessing strong political institutions. And a politician seeking external protection is easier to use than a society that possesses an independent political decision-making capacity.

Therefore, the most dangerous thing we can do is to disagree over everything and then allow others to disagree on our behalf, negotiate in our name, and decide the future of our regions, while we remain preoccupied with the question: Who represents the Kurds more?

The real question is not who represents the Kurds more, but rather:

How can the Kurds represent themselves politically in a way that preserves their diversity while preventing the monopoly of their representation?

Here the role of the intellectual becomes essential.

The Kurdish intellectual is not a public-relations employee for this party or that. He is not required to applaud a leader, attack his opponents on the leader’s behalf, or manufacture political justifications for mistakes. The genuine intellectual must be capable of telling the truth to everyone: to the party he supports, to the party with which he disagrees, to the leadership he knows, to the leadership he does not know, and to society itself when it makes a mistake.

Because the most dangerous moment for any people is not the moment when an external enemy exists; it is the moment when its intellectual elite loses the ability to criticize itself.

We know how to criticize Damascus, we know how to criticize Ankara, and we know how to criticize regional and international powers. But do we know how to criticize ourselves? Do we have the courage to say that part of our predicament was created by us? Do we have the courage to say that Kurdish division is not a fate? That some parties made mistakes? That some leaders made mistakes? That some intellectuals remained silent when they should have spoken? That some politicians turned political disagreement into personal hostility? That some members of the elite, intentionally or unintentionally, contributed to turning the people into a partisan audience rather than citizens? If we do not have this courage, nothing will change.

Acknowledging a mistake is not defeat; the real defeat is knowing that you are walking down the wrong path and continuing along it because admitting the mistake might cost you a position, influence, or political standing.

The Kurdish people in Syria do not need more slogans today; they need a new political mind—one that moves beyond the binary of treason accusations and glorification, beyond the mentality of “with us or against us,” and beyond the notion that the party is the cause, the leader is history, disagreement with the leadership is betrayal, criticism is a conspiracy, and everyone who disagrees with us is working for others. This mentality must come to an end.

We need a politics capable of saying clearly: We disagree, but we do not fight one another; we disagree, but we do not accuse one another of treason; we disagree, but we do not use the people against one another; we disagree, but we do not place the interests of others above the interests of our people; and we disagree, but when it comes to fundamental rights, we stand together. This is not political idealism; it is an existential necessity.

In recent years, there have been attempts to unify the Syrian Kurdish position, but political and organizational disagreements have continued to prevent the establishment of unified Kurdish representation capable of transforming diversity into genuine negotiating power. This, precisely, should compel us to ask: How many more opportunities do we need before we understand? How many more times must we wait before we realize that history does not wait for hesitant peoples?

The Kurds in Syria have endured decades of discrimination, repression, imprisonment, and deprivation of rights. Then came the years of war, bringing displacement, forced migration, division, and regional and international intervention. Today, as the Syrian state is being reshaped, the future of Kurdish rights and the position of the Kurds within the new state are being shaped at the same time. Here, our historical responsibility is greater than ever.

If we enter the new phase divided into parties, tribes, centers of influence, personalities, and regions, others will be better positioned to shape our future. But if we enter it with a unified political mind—not one that abolishes diversity, but one that possesses a minimum common vision—we can become a genuine political actor rather than merely an object of negotiation. This is the difference between a people that possesses a cause and works for it, and a people that becomes a bargaining chip in the causes of others.

Therefore, I say it with complete clarity: enough waiting. Enough waiting for a solution to come from outside. Enough waiting for others to reach agreement on our behalf. Enough waiting for one party or one leader to save us. Enough waiting for a regional state to take up our cause. Enough waiting for Washington, Moscow, Ankara, or Damascus to decide for us what we want.

No one will carry our cause on our behalf. International powers may help us, their interests may intersect with ours, and they may recognize our rights at one stage and pressure us at another. But states act according to their interests, not according to national sentiment toward us. Therefore, the first lesson in politics that we must understand is this: an external friend matters, but internal decision-making matters more; international assistance is useful, but political unity is stronger; and alliances are necessary, but without a project of our own, they can turn into dependency.

As for us, we still waste a great deal of our energy on a futile question: Who is the most patriotic Kurd? No one can monopolize patriotism. Patriotism is not a party card, the cause does not belong to an organization, Kurdish identity is not a certificate that one party grants to another, and disagreement over political vision does not strip a person of his belonging.

Let us leave this old language behind and move toward a new political language based on responsibility rather than accusations of treason; on the project rather than the individual; and on the public interest rather than organizational loyalty.

We are facing a new generation that has not necessarily lived through all the experiences of repression endured by the previous generation, but it lives in a different world—a world of the internet, migration, open borders, geopolitical transformations, the decline of traditional parties, and the rise of new forms of politics and society.

If we do not offer this generation a modern political and intellectual project, it will search for another project. If we do not give it a meaning of belonging, the tribe may give it that meaning. If we do not give it an institution, it will search for an individual. And if we do not give it political hope, it may search for a path to emigration.

Therefore, the issue is far more serious than merely the return of certain manifestations of tribalism; it is a question concerning the future of an entire people.

The real struggle, then, is not between the tribe and the party, but between awareness and regression, citizenship and fanaticism, institutions and personal leadership, modern politics and traditional loyalties, and a project for the future and nostalgia for the past.

If we reject the return of society to the past, then we must offer it something with which to move forward. It is not enough to tell a young person, “Do not be tribal”; we must ask ourselves: What alternative have we given you? It is not enough to tell people, “Do not divide”; we must build for them a political framework in which they can come together. It is not enough to say that Kurdish unity is important; we must transform unity from a slogan into institutions, mechanisms, decisions, and shared interests.

From here, what the Kurdish elite needs today is not another gathering of photographs, statements, and speeches, but a new Kurdish political compact—a compact that does not seek to unify the parties, but to unify priorities; that does not eliminate disagreement, but organizes it; that does not abolish diversity, but transforms it into strength; that does not impose a single leader, but establishes the principle of the rotation of responsibility; and that does not seek complete consensus, but a clear national minimum.

The most important foundation of this compact must be agreement that the interests of the Syrian Kurds cannot be held hostage to any regional or international axis.

We are part of Syria, but we have our national, cultural, and political rights. We want a modern and democratic Syrian state that guarantees equality, but we reject the use of the unity of the state as a pretext for denying our existence and rights. We want a balanced relationship with all Syrian components, because Kurdish rights should not be built upon the denial of the rights of others.

And we want the Kurds to have a clear political position in Syria’s future, but this position cannot be built by excluding other Kurds or monopolizing representation.

This is the politics we need: a politics that does not seek the victory of one party over another, but the victory of the people over its own crisis.

Finally, I say to everyone who wrote a comment on the previous article, and to every Kurdish intellectual, politician, official, activist, and member of the Kurdish struggle: If you all reject the return of tribalism, if you all understand its danger, if you all know that division serves others, and if you all know that this is a dangerous moment, then what are we waiting for? What are we waiting for before we act?

Are we waiting for the map to change once again? Are we waiting for the negotiations to end? Are we waiting for others to decide our future? Are we waiting for the new generation to lose its trust in us? Are we waiting for the tribe to become stronger than the institution? Are we waiting for migration to become the only project available to young people? Or are we waiting until discussion of Kurdish rights becomes merely a chapter in a history book?

I do not want to be pessimistic, but neither do I want to deceive myself with gratuitous optimism. Peoples do not lose only when others defeat them; sometimes they lose when they recognize the danger and do nothing.

The Kurds in Syria today do not need more speeches that reassure them; they need a discourse that awakens them. They do not need someone to tell them that everything is fine; they need someone to tell them that time is running short, that opportunities do not come repeatedly, and that disagreements that may appear partisan today could turn into historical losses tomorrow.

Therefore, what is required of all of us—parties, intellectuals, organizations, social actors, elites, and independent figures—is to move from the logic of “What will this project give me?” to the logic of “What will this project give my people?”; to place the cause before the party, the people before the organization, the future before the past, reason before emotion, wisdom before impulsiveness, politics before the tribe, awareness before fanaticism, and the public interest before personal and regional agendas.

Because if we do not do so now, the question tomorrow may no longer be: Why did the tribe return? The harsher question will be: How did we all know what was happening, and yet allow it to happen?

And this is the question we must not leave to history.