Botan Zębarî
2025 / 7 / 11
In the heart of the Middle East, where the blood of history meets the wounds of geography, Kurdistan stands tall—a living witness to one of the greatest human tragedies. It wasn’t just a land to be divided, but an identity to be shattered, a people turned into strangers in their own homeland. After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the Sykes-Picot lines were not mere borders on paper—they were colonial blades that ripped through a living body and reduced a rich history to rubble under fabricated identities. The British and French colonizers forged fragile entities out of emptiness, dressing them with misleading nationalistic slogans like Arabism and Turanism, to conceal wounds that never healed.
“Arab nationalism” was nothing more than an illusion spun by British intelligence officers like Storrs and Lawrence, later rebranded with fake socialist robes by the CIA during Nasser’s era. As for “Turkish nationalism,” it found its ideological father in Moiz Cohen—later known as Ziya Gö-;-kalp—who transformed the Ottoman multi-ethnic legacy into a racist myth designed to serve Atatürk’s purification project. In both cases, the goal was the same: to fracture the region into warring entities, each denying the other, all forgetting that they were victims of the same colonial conspiracy. The Kurd was stripped of his name, language, and history, then forced into artificial molds that forbade him even from remembering his past. In Syria, he became “Arab,” in Turkey “Turanian,” in Iran “Persian”—yet remained a stranger in all of them.
The visible face of the conspiracy was geographic division, but its deeper layer was identity erasure: renaming towns and villages, criminalizing the Kurdish language, falsifying history. How can a people be expected to participate in state institutions built on their denial? How can they accept a fragile “autonomy” handed like charity while their land is looted and their heritage stolen? Taking part in this fake political game is nothing more than legitimizing colonial entities and tacitly accepting the division as lawful.
But the land does not lie, and memory does not die. From Sumer to Media, Kurdistan has never been just a geography—it has been the cradle of civilizations that shaped history. Today, the land cries out from beneath the ruins: in-script-ions in Amed, stones in Duhok, poems sung in Sorani and Kurmanji—all testify to the falsehood of those borders. Recent archaeological discoveries confirm that this land was the cradle of humanity long before its existence was reduced to lines in colonial treaties.
The battle today is not just against the old colonizer, but against his legacy reborn as a new global system. New constitutions, sham elections, even prepackaged “unity” speeches—all are tools of continued subjugation. But the path to liberation begins with recognizing the original crime: that Kurdistan was not divided because it was weak, but because it was strong enough to threaten the invaders’ interests. Real resistance, therefore, is not only armed—it is cultural at its core. Teaching the language, preserving heritage, exposing false historical narratives—these are battles as vital as any political confrontation. A forgotten land will never be reclaimed, and a people who forget themselves will never reclaim their land.
In the end, the Kurdish question is not just a struggle over borders—it is a test of humanity itself. What is the value of international law if it remains silent as a people are prosecuted for uttering their own name? What is the meaning of civilization if it justifies a century-long occupation? Perhaps the day will come when neighboring peoples realize that colonial partition harmed not only the Kurds, but deceived them all. Only then will illusions shatter, and true identities rise from the ashes.
Thus, the only option is unity: unity among Kurds, strengthening diplomatic presence on the international stage, and building a collective consciousness that turns future generations into guardians of identity and justice. The future will not be built by glorifying hybrid entities, but by clinging to roots and fighting for a free, united Kurdistan—from the Taurus to the Zagros—where the people return to the land of their ancestors, victorious over all illusions of division.
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