Towards a Homeland Not Built on the Ruins of Identity: Between Federalism of Rights and the Fantasies of Theory

At a moment when the wind crosses paths with memory, and stones fall silent under the weight of years, a voice rises from the depths of geography, reminding us that a people were never meant to be forgotten — no matter how hard others may try. At the Sulaymaniyah Forum on August 28, 2025, some individuals delivered a statement that was not merely a political opinion, but a clear rejection of the federal model for which the people of Iraqi Kurdistan have struggled for decades. They dismissed it as “classical,” proposing instead the so-called “Democratic Nation Project” as a supposedly advanced model suitable for the Middle East. But can a philosophical theory, no matter how profound, truly replace a legitimate national right achieved through decades of blood and sacrifice? Can liberated lands, established institutions, and internationally recognized rights be exchanged for an experimental project tested only under exceptional circumstances and surrounded by artillery from all sides?

Those who deny the federal rights won by Iraqi Kurdistan do not merely diminish the sacrifices of an entire generation-;- they reproduce the very mentality that sought for decades to erase Kurdish identity. This model they label “classical” was not a gift from the heavens, but the fruit of blood shed in Halabja, of slow, heavy steps along the path of demanding rights, and of a patience measured only by the standards of peoples who have lived under tyranny and discrimination. As for the “Democratic Nation,” as proposed by Abdullah Ö-;-calan based on Murray Bookchin’s ideas of democratic confederalism, it is a theory centered on cultural pluralism, grassroots democracy, and women’s liberation as the foundation of societal freedom. These are undoubtedly noble ideas, carrying deep humanistic values. Yet, even at their highest, they remain an intellectual project — one that cannot replace real, recognized, and concretely achieved rights.

In Rojava, some attempted to implement this model. Yes, there was a serious effort to build a society based on popular participation, women’s empowerment, and respect for ethnic and religious diversity. But can we ignore that this experiment was born amid an existential war, economic blockade, and daily threats from a regional state that sees any Kurdish autonomous organization as a -dir-ect threat to its security? Can we evaluate a state project under such extraordinary conditions as if it were a safe democratic laboratory experiment? And who guarantees that a people, having lived for centuries under a centralized state, suffering from a poverty of political culture, and trapped in tribal and sectarian conflicts, can suddenly leap from “tribe” to “democratic municipality” without a long process of education and enlightenment? How do we convince a society that knows democracy only by name to manage its affairs through local councils, while it still refuses to acknowledge that Kurds inhabited these lands a thousand years before others?

We, the people of Western Kurdistan, speak with one voice: These proposals do not represent us. They do not reflect our aspirations, embody our suffering,´-or-express our history. We who have offered thousands of martyrs for freedom, who stood bare-chested against ISIS, who protected diversity in Syria — we refuse to see our legitimate right to a federal state guaranteeing our national rights replaced by vague slogans´-or-untested theories. We believe in Syrian unity, but a unity built on justice, genuine partnership, and recognition of the other. And here stands the Kurdistan Region of Iraq — despite all challenges — as a successful, inspiring model, a pillar for every Kurd who dreams of living with dignity on their land.

The Kurds of Rojava are closer than ever to realizing their dream, as if history itself has opened a window of light after a long, dark night. But we warn you: O you who sing praises to the “Democratic Nation Theory,” beware of drowning your own blood in silent betrayal. Beware of repeating the fate of Hassan Khairi, the Kurdish MP during Atatürk’s era, who was promised peace and met with bullets, promised belonging and had his very existence denied. His life ended on the gallows, but before his last breath, he said in a tone unbearable to hear: “Dig my grave on a road where Kurds pass, so they may spit on me as they walk by.” As if he already knew that betrayal of identity is harsher than death itself.

Are we today facing a project that reproduces this betrayal in the language of philosophy?´-or-are we seizing a real opportunity to build a homeland not built on the ruins of identity, one that does not elevate theory over blood? We hold fast to federalism — not because it is fashionable, but because it is a just, realistic, and applicable framework that ensures we Kurds are partners in Syria’s future, not merely a footnote in a philosophical text. We do not reject thinking, nor do we fear innovation. But we refuse to trade our rights for a beautiful dream that feeds no hungry, returns no stolen land, and -restore-s no erased identity.

We have lived long in the shadows. Now that light begins to seep in, we will not allow anyone to extinguish it in the name of “modernity”´-or-“intellectual progress.” For we know, through our ancestors’ blood, that a homeland is not built on theories alone, but on rights, blood, and memory.

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