By: Dr. Adnan Buzan
The question confronting the Kurdish political movement in Syria is no longer a passing question that can be postponed or circumvented. It has become a political and existential question directly connected to the future of the Kurdish cause and the position of the Kurds in the Syria of tomorrow: Why, despite decades of political struggle, sacrifices, and accumulated experience, has the Kurdish political movement failed to produce a unified political project capable of convincing Kurdish society while, at the same time, presenting the Kurdish cause as a Syrian national issue rather than merely a collection of fragmented partisan demands?
Raising this question does not mean questioning the legitimacy of the Kurdish cause, denying the policies of denial, discrimination, exclusion, and attempts to erase Kurdish identity to which Kurds in Syria have been subjected, or diminishing the sacrifices made by Kurdish activists, intellectuals, and political figures over the course of decades. Nor does it mean placing all parties, political forces, and political personalities in the same category, since their experiences, responsibilities, and choices differ. But defending the Kurdish cause does not mean defending everyone who speaks in its name, and respecting the history of struggle does not mean exempting the present from criticism and accountability.
The cause is one thing, and the party is another; the people are one thing, and the political leadership is another; history is one thing, and the political project for the future is something else.
This distinction appears more necessary today than ever before.
History has demonstrated that the justice of a cause alone is not sufficient to achieve its objectives. A cause may be just, yet the tools used to articulate it may be weak. A people may possess a clear historical right, yet the forces entrusted with defending that right may be incapable of transforming it into a viable political project. From this perspective, the crisis of the Kurdish political movement in Syria is not so much a crisis of the cause itself as it is a crisis of political capacity—the capacity to manage the cause and transform it into a coherent project.
Perhaps the most striking paradox is that Kurdish national consciousness within Syrian Kurdish society has become more firmly established than the ability of political forces to produce a political framework capable of accommodating that consciousness and translating it into a practical program. Kurdish society knows that it has historically been subjected to discrimination; it knows that it has been deprived of fundamental rights; and it knows that its national identity has been subjected to attempts at denial. But today it wants to know something else: What does the political movement intend to do with this history? What does it seek to build for the future? What kind of relationship does it seek with the Syrian state? What will be the position of the Kurds in a new Syria? And what tools can be used to achieve these objectives?
This is precisely where the problem begins.
A significant part of the Kurdish political discourse in Syria has remained trapped in the framework of historical victimhood. Victimhood is neither an illusion nor a political invention; it is part of a historical reality that cannot be denied. Yet victimhood, however legitimate, cannot by itself become a political project. History explains the roots of the issue, but it does not, on its own, chart the path toward a solution. Memory preserves pain, but it does not build institutions. Victims give a cause its moral legitimacy, but politics also requires vision, a program, and effective instruments.
The tragedy explains why the Kurds resisted, but it does not by itself answer the more important question: What do they want to build?
This is precisely the transition that the Kurdish political movement in Syria needs today: a transition from a discourse primarily rooted in the past to a political discourse capable of building the future.
A movement that confines itself to reminding its people of what they have suffered, without offering them a clear vision of what they are going to achieve, gradually transforms itself from a political movement seeking to change reality into a protest movement content merely to describe it.
The difference between the two is profound.
A protest movement says: We have been subjected to injustice.
A political movement says: We have been subjected to injustice; we understand its causes, we define our rights, we possess a political project, we know how to negotiate for it, and we also know how to transform it into a political, legal, and institutional reality.
Here, one of the greatest problems facing Kurdish politics in Syria becomes apparent:
“The absence of a unified political project.”
Kurds have multiple parties, political currents, political and civil figures, and a wide range of political and civil institutions. Yet this pluralism has not, so far, been transformed into a unified political force, even around a minimum set of strategic objectives. Difference in itself is not a problem; rather, it is natural and healthy in any society seeking to build a democratic political life. The problem begins when differences evolve from a plurality of visions into a conflict of interests, and from competition over programs into a struggle over representation, legitimacy, and influence.
The question has increasingly become: Who represents the Kurds?
Whereas the more important question should be: What do the Kurds want?
When political conflict becomes a struggle over who has the right to represent the cause, the cause itself becomes an arena for partisan competition. Each party becomes more concerned with proving that it is the legitimate representative than with demonstrating that its project is the one most capable of serving society.
This is where the cause gradually begins to become detached from society.
A Kurdish citizen may believe deeply in the national cause, remain committed to his rights, and be convinced of the necessity of recognition of his identity, yet not necessarily be convinced by the party claiming to represent him. He may defend the Kurdish cause while having no trust in its leaders. He may believe in national rights while rejecting the transformation of those rights into a means of imposing partisan tutelage over society.
This does not mean that the people have abandoned their cause. Rather, it may mean that society has become more capable of distinguishing between “the cause and those who manage it.”
Here, political parties must stop interpreting the erosion of public trust in them as evidence of declining national consciousness or weakening commitment to the cause. The problem may lie somewhere entirely different: in the widening gap between society and the political class.
Ultimately, trust is not something that can be demanded from citizens; it is something that must be built together with them.
A party cannot ask society to trust it simply because it has carried the banner of the cause for decades. Trust requires transparency, accountability, institutions, renewal, clarity, and the willingness to acknowledge mistakes.
When citizens hear speeches about democracy but find no genuine democracy within political organizations, they begin to ask questions. When they hear calls for unity while witnessing partisan, regional, and personal divisions, the political discourse loses part of its influence. And when they hear about freedom but see disagreement with the leadership treated as an accusation or an act of disloyalty, slogans become less convincing.
A democratic movement cannot be built with a mindset that does not tolerate criticism.
A political movement that seeks to build a democratic state in Syria must begin by practicing democracy within its own institutions. A party that calls for judicial independence, accountability, and transparency must be prepared to apply these principles within its own structures. And a leadership that calls for the peaceful rotation of power should not regard its positions as permanent privileges.
Criticism is not hostility, disagreement is not treason, and opposition is not a conspiracy.
Indeed, a movement that does not allow internal criticism gradually becomes an institution that hears only its own voice. When it hears only its own voice, it loses the ability to see its mistakes; and when it loses the ability to see its mistakes, it loses the ability to correct its course.
Here, another problem emerges: “the ossification of political elites and the delayed renewal of leadership and ideas.”
Kurdish society in Syria has changed dramatically over the past several decades. New generations have emerged that are more open to the world; educational attainment has increased; migration has expanded; and new groups of academics, intellectuals, professionals, entrepreneurs, media figures, and activists have emerged. At the same time, the tools of political and social communication have undergone radical transformation.
Yet political discourse continues to operate with the tools of a different era.
The young Kurd today does not ask only about the national cause; he also asks about his own personal future. He asks about education, employment, the economy, freedom, justice, and dignity. He asks whether it is possible to build a normal life in his own country instead of having to search for a future outside it.
For this reason, young people do not want to be merely a political audience, electoral fuel, a tool for mobilization, or a number on party lists.
They want to be partners in shaping decisions.
Those who fail to understand this reality will find themselves facing an ever-widening gap between themselves and the new generations.
Kurdish society in Syria is also not a politically homogeneous entity, and it should not be treated as such. There are ideological, political, social, regional, and generational differences, and this is entirely natural. The objective is not to eliminate these differences, but rather to manage them politically within a common framework.
Unity does not mean that everyone must become members of a single party. Nor does it mean eliminating opposition or abolishing differences.
True unity means that political forces may disagree over the means while agreeing on a minimum set of common objectives and fundamental principles.
Parties may disagree over the form of the political system, yet they can agree on constitutional recognition of the Kurdish presence and its rights. They may disagree over the tools of political action, yet they can agree on rejecting any return to policies of denial and discrimination. They may disagree over the details of their relationship with other Syrian political forces, yet they can agree that the future of the Kurds must be an integral part of the future of a democratic Syria.
This is precisely where the political movement must move “from the unity of parties to the unity of the project.”
The Kurdish cause in Syria does not necessarily need a single party, but it does need a common political vision and a negotiating framework capable of expressing the minimum level of Kurdish consensus.
This leads us to the most important question: What does the Kurdish political movement in Syria actually want?
Does it seek a decentralized system? A federal system? Self-government? Broadly empowered local administration? Or another formula within a democratic Syrian state?
Disagreement in itself is not the problem. The problem is that Kurdish society needs to hear clear answers, rather than merely general slogans.
Politics is not built solely upon ultimate objectives; it is also built upon the path leading to them.
If certain objectives require long-term processes, it is the responsibility of politicians to explain those stages and to distinguish between the strategic objective and what is politically achievable, between principles that cannot be abandoned and issues that can be negotiated.
A serious political project must answer specific questions: What do we want? Why do we want it? How can we achieve it? What are our tools? Who are our allies? What are the limits of negotiation? What can we accept, and what can we never accept?
Merely relying on general statements about rights, freedom, and democracy, without translating them into a political program, leaves the cause confined to the level of rhetoric.
Therefore, the Kurdish political movement in Syria needs to redefine the cause itself.
The Kurdish cause is not merely a question of borders, land, or identity; it is also a question of citizenship, rights, dignity, democracy, and justice.
Kurds do not need merely to prove that they are part of Syria; they also need to articulate their vision of the Syria in which they want to live.
This is a question of profound importance:
“What kind of Syria do the Kurds want?”
Do they want a return to the centralized state from which everyone has suffered, albeit to varying degrees?
Or do they want a new Syria founded on political and administrative decentralization, the distribution of power, participation, justice, and recognition of national and cultural diversity?
If the Kurdish political movement wants to be part of shaping the new Syria, it cannot limit itself to presenting Kurdish demands. It must also offer a comprehensive vision for the Syria of the future.
Here, the Kurdish cause moves from “a particular demand” to becoming part of a broader national project.
This does not mean abandoning Kurdish national distinctiveness; rather, it means connecting that distinctiveness to a broader democratic project.
National rights and democracy are not contradictory causes.
Indeed, national rights require a democratic environment that protects them, and genuine democracy cannot be built upon the denial of the rights of a fundamental component of society.
Therefore, the best political project the Kurdish political movement can offer is one that brings together “Kurdish national rights and the building of a democratic, decentralized Syria founded on equal citizenship and recognition of national, cultural, and political pluralism.”
Such a project would be far more capable of convincing both Kurds and Syrians alike.
However, this also requires a greater degree of autonomy in political decision-making.
The Kurdish cause in Syria lies at the heart of an exceptionally complex region in which the interests of numerous regional and international powers intersect. It is natural for political forces to seek external relations and alliances; this is part of political action. Yet external alliances should serve the Syrian Kurdish political project rather than become a substitute for it.
External support may provide the movement with political space, but it cannot grant it lasting popular legitimacy.
International power may help protect certain interests, but it cannot build a cohesive political society.
A decision that is not grounded in an internal social and political base remains fragile, regardless of the scale of support it receives.
Therefore, the question the Kurdish political movement should ask is not merely: Who stands with us?
It should also ask:
“Do we ourselves possess sufficient political and institutional strength to defend our interests?”
Strength here does not mean military power alone. It means an organized society, institutions, education, an economy, media, diplomacy, culture, the capacity to produce knowledge, and the ability to build alliances.
A cause without institutions capable of carrying it forward remains hostage to circumstances.
A cause without an economic and social project remains trapped within political rhetoric.
A cause without media capable of addressing both domestic and international audiences remains unable to defend itself in the battle over the narrative.
And a cause without young and renewed leadership will eventually find itself incapable of dealing with the future.
For this reason, what is needed today is not the addition of another party to the long list of Kurdish parties in Syria. What is needed is the creation of “a new political idea that transcends the mindset of the traditional party.”
The required transition is:
From the question “Who represents the Kurds?” to the question “How do we represent the interests of the Kurds?”
From “Who leads?” to “What project leads us?”
From struggles over leadership to competition over political programs.
From consuming history to creating the future.
From a discourse of victimhood to a discourse of rights.
From a discourse of rights to a project of institution-building.
From waiting for external actors to building internal strength.
From unity of slogans to unity of interests.
From the unity of parties to the unity of the project.
Here, it must be emphasized that the Kurdish people in Syria are not responsible for the weakness of the political movement. It is unreasonable to ask citizens to bear the consequences of partisan divisions and then accuse them of being indifferent to the cause. Nor is it fair to demand their loyalty to political parties simply because those parties raise national slogans.
Citizens want to see the cause reflected in their daily lives.
They want to know what national rights actually mean for them.
What will they mean for their children?
For their language?
For their education?
For their university?
For their employment?
For their freedom?
For a fair judiciary?
For their security?
For their future?
Therefore, a political project that cannot answer the questions of everyday life will remain distant from citizens, no matter how compelling its rhetoric may be.
People do not live on slogans.
They live on hope, dignity, justice, security, employment, education, and freedom.
For this reason, the Kurdish cause must be capable of offering a better future rather than remaining merely a continuous recollection of the past.
The most dangerous thing that could happen to the Kurdish cause is for it to become nothing more than a political memory.
A living cause is one that produces a project.
A living project produces institutions.
Institutions produce trust.
Trust produces political strength.
And it is this strength that can make the Kurdish cause a meaningful force in shaping Syria’s future.
Therefore, the Kurdish political movement in Syria needs a comprehensive political reassessment, not another party conference that ends with yet another statement.
It needs an honest review that asks: Where did we go wrong? Why have we failed to unify our position? Why has part of society become distanced from the political parties? Why have we failed to produce a clear political project? Why have organizational disputes remained stronger than national interests? Why have we failed to renew the political elites? And why does political discourse, in some of its aspects, remain trapped in the vocabulary of the past?
Genuine self-review does not mean self-flagellation. It means having the courage to correct course.
A movement that does not examine itself will repeat its mistakes.
A leadership that refuses to acknowledge its mistakes will lose the trust of its society.
And a party that considers itself above criticism will eventually become incapable of evolving.
Kurds in Syria do not need someone to tell them that their cause is just; they already know this.
What they need is someone to tell them:
“How do we transform this justice into a political right? How do we transform that political right into institutions? And how do we protect those institutions within the new Syria?”
That is the purpose of politics.
Ultimately, the real question is no longer: Does the Syrian Kurd believe in his cause?
Rather:
“Can the Kurdish political movement transform that belief into a political project?”
The facts indicate that the gap is not necessarily between the people and the cause, but rather between the people and the forces that claim to represent the cause.
And the solution does not lie in demanding greater loyalty from the people, but in rebuilding trust.
It will not be achieved by adding more slogans, but by producing a vision.
It will not be achieved by entrenching personal leadership, but by building institutions.
It will not be achieved by eliminating differences, but by managing them democratically.
It will not be achieved by weakening political parties, but by placing the cause above the parties.
The Kurdish cause in Syria is greater than any party, greater than any leader, and greater than any particular political phase.
Therefore, the party must be a tool for serving the cause, rather than the cause becoming a tool for serving the party.
Leadership must serve society, rather than society becoming a base for protecting the leadership.
And politics must be a means of achieving rights, not an end in itself for preserving positions and influence.
The era of merely defending existence has ended—or, at the very least, it should end.
The next stage must be the stage of “shaping the future.”
This stage requires a new political mindset, a new discourse, new leadership, new institutions, and a new relationship between society and the political movement.
What is needed is not for Kurds to become more attached to a party, but for the party to become more deeply connected to society.
Nor is it for politicians to ask the people to follow them, but to present them with a project worthy of being followed.
And the political movement should not simply declare, “We represent the cause,” but should prove through its actions that it serves it.
Only then can Kurdish politics in Syria regain the trust of its society. Only then can the Kurdish cause move from a long history of victimhood and resistance toward a political project capable of influencing Syria’s future.
The Kurds in Syria possess a cause, a history, a collective memory, and significant human, cultural, and political resources.
But possessing a cause is not enough.
“What is missing is the project.”
A clear, democratic, realistic, and inclusive Syrian Kurdish political project—one that transcends party, leader, and division; places the Kurdish individual at the center of politics; connects Kurdish national rights to the building of a democratic, decentralized Syria; speaks to Kurds in the language of the future; speaks to Syrians in the language of partnership; and speaks to the world in the language of interests, rights, and law.
Only then can the Kurds in Syria acquire political weight commensurate with the scale of their cause, their history, and their sacrifices.
Only then can the cause be transformed from a slogan into a project, from a project into political power, and from political power into reality.
“The crisis does not lie in the Kurdish cause; the crisis lies in a political approach that has, so far, failed to transform that cause into a project worthy of bringing everyone together around it.”