Turan Kışlakçı
For nearly two centuries, the people of this land have not written their own history with their own pens. Neither Turks, nor Arabs, nor Kurds… The story of the last two hundred years has, to a great extent, been shaped in the libraries of others; most of the books written about these lands did not belong to the children of these lands. These texts, authored by Western minds, did not merely recount the past — they also shaped the present. And what a tragedy it is that the intellectuals of this region have so often tried to understand their neighbors—even their relatives—through these distorted mirrors.
This is not merely an intellectual deficiency; it is a profound historical shame. For history written by others inevitably brings with it the enmities devised by others. In the mental world constructed through Orientalist texts, friendships were broken, kinships were shattered, and the children of the same geography were alienated from one another.
Today, we are talking about the Syrian Kurds. Yet neither Arabs, nor Turks, nor Kurds themselves are unaware of the true hardships faced by the Syrian Kurds. These realities are known. But known truths are often drowned out by the noise of weapons. The PYD/SDG, which represents only a portion of the Kurdish people—not the whole—has imposed heavy tutelage over Syria’s oppressed Kurds, backed militarily and financially by the Assad regime, as well as by Russia, Iran, Germany, the United States, and Israel. Much like the PKK before it, this structure has shown no concern for the social and economic struggles of the Kurdish people; instead, it has suppressed politics under the shadow of the gun.
History is unambiguous on this matter: whether it be a state or an organization, societies in which politicians are subordinate to armed men have always ended in failure. Those who rely on weapons see the world in black and white. Yet politics is the art of the gray. It seeks out the possibilities of coexistence and strives to open paths toward a shared future. Weapons, by contrast, only deepen division.
Regrettably, the Syrian Kurds have become victims of both historical amnesia and political absence. History reminds us: there are historically rooted Kurdish regions in Iraq, Iran, and Türkiye; but in the Syrian context, it is not possible to speak of a Kurdish region in the same sense. It is known that limited Kurdish populations have long existed in Aleppo, Damascus, and certain mountainous areas. Yet some Kurdish groups, lacking this historical awareness, have gone knocking on the doors of the United States and Israel under the pretext of “support for Syrian Kurds”—an act that is not only disgraceful, but also a grave injustice to the long-suffering Syrian people.
After seventy years of being denied identity and citizenship, the Syrian Kurds have finally encountered a historic opportunity. And yet, how blind must one be to squander these hard-earned gains for the sake of the unfounded political ambitions of Israel and the PYD? That a movement frozen in the dusty pages of Lenin and Stalin would sacrifice the Kurdish people’s opportunity—after a hundred years—to build a shared future with the ancient peoples of this region, all in favor of the interests of the U.S., Israel, and a marginal faction… This is not merely shortsightedness; it is a crime against history.
When we return to the issue of the Syrian Kurds, one of the figures who grasped this matter most deeply comes to the fore: Muhammad Kurd Ali. An Ottoman intellectual, Kurd Ali was not merely a historian; he was one of those rare minds capable of reading the future. A thinker with numerous works—including in Turkish—he had profoundly analyzed Syria’s social fabric and ethnic equilibrium.
In 1931, while serving as Minister of Education in the government of Sheikh Taceddin al-Hasani, he visited the newly established Cezire Sanjak. He observed the construction of bridges, roads, and public buildings. Following this visit, he wrote a letter to the head of government, proposing the opening of elementary schools in the region as part of an educational mobilization. Yet this letter was not simply a call for schooling; it was, in essence, a far-reaching historical warning.
In this document, later published in his memoirs, Kurd Ali carefully analyzed the waves of Kurdish migration into the Syrian Jazira region, triggered by uprisings against the state of Türkiye under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. This period, which began with the Sheikh Said revolt in 1925 and concluded with the suppression of Seyid Rıza in Dersim in 1938, saw the Kurdish population in the region multiply rapidly within a matter of years.
Kurd Ali viewed the steep rise in the Kurdish population—from six thousand in 1927 to forty-seven thousand in 1932—as a potential threat to Syria’s territorial integrity. While he supported the idea of settling these migrants, he insisted this must not be done in border areas. Otherwise, he warned, in times of political upheaval, all or a large part of Jazira could be severed from the Syrian state. He went further still: even if the Kurds were incapable of establishing a state at that time, he believed that if they remained committed to the idea of nationalism and kept their aspirations alive, they would one day succeed.
This letter stands as a mental map that stretches from ninety years ago to the present. A historian who was Kurdish by identity and Ottoman-Damascene by belonging foresaw how his own people might, in the future, turn political crises—and even the experience of exile and migration—into a mechanism for state-building.
What is unfolding today is not the fulfillment of Kurd Ali’s prophecy; it is the delayed echo of a warning issued with historical foresight. The real question is this: are we ready to hear that echo?
Here is the Full Text of That Letter/Document:
In a letter written in 1931 to Prime Minister Taceddin al-Hasani (Memoirs, vol. 2, pp. 440–442), Muhammad Kurd Ali wrote the following:
“I was greatly pleased by the significant works I observed in certain areas of the Cezire Sanjak. Previous administrations had not laid a single stone upon another in this region. The newly built bridges, the roads opened, the schools and government offices established are all clear indicators that this new sanjak is finally receiving the attention it deserves. Wisdom demands that this attention be further increased: that ten elementary schools be opened next year at a cost not exceeding ten thousand Syrian pounds, and that a grand mosque be built in Ayn Dîvar.
The activity of the people in the Jazira lands is even more noteworthy. Just six years ago, Hasakah was little more than a village; today its population has reached around five thousand. Similarly, Qamishli—once consisting of just a single house and a mill—now stands out with its population of twelve thousand, its geometrically designed layout, electrically lit streets, and tree-lined avenues. Tomorrow, Ayn Dîvar and other settlements will surely join in this development.
As you are aware, most of those who have migrated to these regions are Kurds, Syriacs, Armenians, Arabs, and Jews. Yet the majority of the migrants consist of Kurds who have settled in the border areas. In my view, this population should henceforth be resettled in areas far from the frontiers of Kurdistan, for their presence along the border may, in the near or distant future, give rise to political complications that could result in the separation of the whole or a large part of Jazira from the Syrian state. Even if the Kurds are not presently capable of founding a state, if they continue to pursue their demands and uphold their national consciousness, they may well succeed over time.
The same applies to the Turks concentrated in the Sanjak of Alexandretta. Their density in that region may, in the future, provoke discomfort among Syrians. It would therefore be more prudent to distribute land from state holdings in the regions of Homs and Aleppo to those Turks and Kurds who request it. Kurdish and Armenian migrants, in any case, should be settled in villages in the central parts of the country together with Arabs, and not in the border regions—as a safeguard against any potential threat. We are now at the dawn of peace, and we have the chance to think and act with foresight.
Another financial matter that will have an impact this year is the census of sheep. Animal husbandry is the most vital source of income in the Cezire Sanjak. When the prices of wool, butter, and livestock drop, those most affected are the people whose livelihoods depend solely on sheep and camels. While we levy a tax of forty-five qirsh per sheep, Iraq collects twenty, and Türkiye forty Turkish qirsh (approximately twenty-five Syrian qirsh). If we were to halve this tax, then, as in previous years, many tribes from Iraq and Türkiye would once again enter and settle in our lands. We would also eliminate the widespread smuggling witnessed in past years.
Moreover, in the Qamishli district, the value of a one-year-old sheep can reach one hundred and fifty Syrian qirsh, whereas in the Ayn Dîvar district, this figure does not exceed one hundred. This discrepancy must also be taken into account, for transporting livestock hundreds of kilometers to centers where a live market might be established is extremely difficult.”
Damascus, November 18, 1931
Minister of Education, Muhammad Kurd Ali
In essence, the Kurdish people will not be able to build a real future unless they liberate themselves from the narrow horizon of armed struggle and the short-term calculations of imperial powers. History has whispered the same truth to this land time and again: deliverance does not lie in the designs of others, but in the will to live together.
Today, as the artificial geographies that the West constructed a century ago with rulers begin to unravel, the ancient peoples of these lands once again stand at the threshold of history. For the peoples who breathe the same winds—Turks, Arabs, and Kurds—and share the same sorrows, a new beginning is possible. But this opportunity comes neither by force of arms nor by the grace of foreign intervention; it can only take root in the shade of shared memory, collective ethics, and a faith sustained for centuries.
The Kurdish question can only be resolved when it is brought to ground where weapons fall silent and politics, reason, and wisdom are allowed to speak. For politics exists not to divide, but to multiply the possibilities of coexistence. Every sincere bond forged with the region’s ancient peoples renders meaningless every artificial alliance imposed by foreign powers. Imperialist projects gain momentum only when internal unity weakens.
What must be done today is to revisit history’s warnings—and finally take its long-postponed lessons seriously. The dangers Muhammad Kurd Ali pointed out ninety years ago are also the name of a possibility: a future not built on violence, not defined by hostility, but shaped by justice and law. To squander that future would be a loss not only for the Kurds, but for all who inhabit this region.
For now that history has once again opened the door, we must not repeat the mistakes of the past—but learn from them, and carve a new path forward. This path is not one of separation, but of a shared sense of destiny. And if this path is taken, then for the first time in a very long time, this region may awaken to a future written not by someone else’s pen, but by its own will.
Footnotes:
1. Haseke – The location referred to in the text is Haseke. In earlier usage, the letter “k” was sometimes pronounced like “c.”
2. Qamishli – This has been the district’s official and historical name since its foundation. The alternative name “Qamishlo,” often cited by some Kurdish circles, lacks historical grounding.
3. “Kurdish Regions” – As defined by Muhammad Kurd Ali, this term encompasses the southern areas adjacent to the Türkiye–Syria border and certain parts of northwestern Iraq.