The Illusion of Kurdish Unity

Kamal Chomani's photo

Kamal Chomani

Amargi Columnist

3 minutes read·Updated
A young girl holding a doll remembers the revelry during the blossoming cherry trees festival

Following the Syrian Kurdish uprising in 2012, Kurdish forces affiliated with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) took control of Kurdish-majority areas that Kurds commonly call Rojava. Kurds often lament that they are the largest people without a nation and talk about aspirations for Kurdish solidarity. While at a popular level Kurds celebrated Rojava’s establishment, Masoud Barzani’s Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) in Iraq was far less enthusiastic.

For 14 years, the KDP has sought to isolate Rojava by closing the Semelka border, the only border Rojava had with Iraq’s Kurdistan Regional Government. Despite a demand by the Kurdistan Parliament in 2014 to recognize Rojava, Barzani has refused. Moreover, his KDP has cooperated with Turkey in Syria to undermine the legitimacy of Rojava’s Kurdish administration.

With such jealousies and cynicism paramount, is Kurdish unity possible or just an illusion?

Recognition that disunity was an Achilles’ heel has permeated Kurdish literature and collective memory.

Recognition that disunity was an Achilles’ heel has permeated Kurdish literature and collective memory. Ahmad Khani, one of the founding figures of Kurdish nationalism, wrote over three centuries ago, “If only there were unity among us, and we would obey one another, then all of the Ottomans and Arabs and Persians would become our servants.”

While Kurds once blamed lack of unity on the division of their lands by foreign powers, today many Kurds recognize that Kurdish leaders and their parties bear much responsibility for their lack of unity.

National unity is essential, but it must be built on a foundation of a democratic vision; tribal structures inherently sow division. Today, when Barzani calls for national unity, he does not advocate for a unity that would be grounded in a democratic constitution, the rule of law, universal human rights, or the principles of liberty and equality for all Kurds. Instead, he seeks a unity that demands submission to the Barzani family’s will. He demonstrated this a decade ago when he imposed an embargo on Rojava as it battles the Islamic State, simply because Rojava’s egalitarian model clashed with his own conservative tribal order. The juxtaposition between Rojava and Barzani-ruled territory is striking. One of Rojava’s major achievements has been elevating the role of women in political life. In Iraqi Kurdistan, in contrast, young journalist Sardasht Osman was assassinated 15 years ago for writing a satirical article in which he mentioned Iraqi Kurdistan’s nepotism and patrimonial system and mentioned Barzani’s daughter, which provoked Barzani into a tribal response.

Despite their internal fissures, Kurds have enjoyed short periods of unity over the past century. The problem is that such unity did not naturally emerge within Kurdish political culture but instead was imposed due to external threats. When those threats passed, unity collapsed because Kurdish political leaders never genuinely internalized it. True unity requires voluntary submission to a broader democratic national framework, not a survival mechanism to preserve the privileges of political elites.

For example, in 1986, the Iranians pushed the Kurdistan Democratic Party and its rival Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, as well as other Kurdish political parties, to unite and form the Kurdistan Bloc. Then, after 1991, the Kurdistan Region gained international protected status and established a parliament due to pressure from the international community. However, because the Kurdish parties lacked a genuine commitment to democratic values and partisan and family interests predominated, a civil war erupted in 1994 over revenues and resources.