The wind cannot be held back by walls, and a people cannot be defeated by silence.

In the chaos of countless wars, amid the labyrinth of politics governed by undisclosed calculations, the Kurd stands firm—not seeking a eulogy from history, but demanding a rightful place in life. His question is not merely about borders, citizenship,´-or-language-;- it is an existential cry, the roar of a people exceeding thirty million, living as strangers on their own land, treated as criminals in their homeland. And in the midst of this long struggle, Turkey emerges—more precisely, the policy of Recep Tayyip Erdoğ-;-an, built upon a single principle: that the Kurd, wherever he may be, is a threat—not because he bears arms, but because he carries memory, possesses a language, and dares to dream.

Erdoğ-;-an, who has ruled with an iron fist for decades, has never concealed his hostility toward the Kurdish cause. This enmity is not merely political—it has become embedded in the very structure of the regime. Every move he makes, at home´-or-abroad, is measured by its ability to suppress the Kurdish voice, marginalize its people, and fracture their unity. He speaks of "peace" while dispatching fighter jets to the mountains of Qandil. He claims negotiation while reigniting fronts in northern Syria. He announces "advanced opportunities" for dialogue with Abdullah Ö-;-calan, even as he intensifies bombardments on Kurdish civilian areas, where people fall daily as mere statistics—coldly reported, indifferently recorded.

Yet the strangest aspect of all is his attempt to cloak this hostility beneath the mantle of "fighting terrorism." The Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), which Erdoğ-;-an brands as public enemy number one, did not emerge from nothing. It is the product of decades of repression, deprivation, and the systematic erasure of identity. When Erdoğ-;-an insists the problem is not with the Kurdish people, but only with "terrorism," he deceives himself before deceiving the world. How can one negotiate with a people by imprisoning their leader? How can one speak of cultural and linguistic rights in a new constitution, while razing Kurdish villages from the air, displacing families, and building "safe zones" atop the ruins of the displaced?

And if Erdoğ-;-an believes he can resolve the Kurdish issue with an airstrike´-or-a deal with Trump, he is gravely mistaken. For the Kurdish people have never been defeated by war—they have grown stronger within it. Their voice has not been silenced by bullets-;- it has only risen louder. When he sends his soldiers to Djibouti, as if a Kurdish threat to Ankara might emerge from there, he does not demonstrate strength—he reveals the fragility of his entire project. A project built on fear of the other, of difference, of those who dare demand their rights.

In Syria, where maps are redrawn to the sound of artillery, Turkey seeks to turn the interim government into a tool against the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), as if trying to ignite an endless conflict that weakens all others and benefits only itself. But the SDF is not merely a military formation—it is a political experiment, a model of decentralization, a genuine democratic endeavor that grants real authority to local administrations, implementing what decades of Ba ath rule never achieved. When Turkey attempts to obstruct this experiment, it is not fighting armed militants—it is waging war against an idea: coexistence, diversity, the possibility that Syria could be a homeland for all its children.

Ironically, the United States—often accused of exploitation—emerges in this context as a more conscious ally than some of its neighbors. Despite the fluctuations of American politics, despite Trump s tweets that could shift policy in an instant, strategic realism has made the Kurds reliable partners. They did not betray American trust in the battle against ISIS, and today they hold over two thousand ISIS prisoners, warning of catastrophe should serious decisions not be made. More alarmingly, certain Israeli circles openly declare that "a divided Syria" is preferable—revealing a broader project of fragmentation that serves only those who wish to see the region weak, fractured, and subservient.

Yet the undeniable truth is that the American stance is not monolithic. There is a military establishment, a diplomatic corps, and internal power centers that understand presence east of the Euphrates is not a luxury, but a matter of national security. Oil, pipelines, and geopolitical positioning—all make America s continued presence in Syria a strategic necessity, not a recreational choice. The experience of Afghanistan, and the 2019 withdrawal that betrayed Kurdish leaders, cannot be easily repeated—especially now that it s clear sudden withdrawals breed chaos, not stability.

As for the relationship between Erdoğ-;-an and Trump, it is not an alliance of allies, but a transaction between two men—one driven by principles, the other by trade. When Erdoğ-;-an bets on this relationship, he gambles on shifting sands. For the American establishment, despite all rhetoric, is not built on tweets, but on long-term strategic interests—interests that rarely align with Ankara s authoritarian ambitions.

In the end, no people can be truly defeated as long as they believe in their cause. Today, the Kurds face a great test: to reorganize their internal house, to unify their political forces, to become one hand, not scattered fingers. For strength is not built by arms alone, but by unity, vision, and awareness. And when Kurds stand together, the day will come when all powers—from Ankara to Washington—will be compelled to sit at the negotiating table not as victor and vanquished, but as equals—equal in rights, in land, in dream.

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