In October 2016 Peter Loo travelled to Rojava*
to volunteer as an English teacher and participate in work within civil
society – the outcome of over 14 months of organising within the Plan C
Rojava solidarity cluster. He is currently working for the SYPG campaign in Qamishlo.
As well as directly offering his skills Peter has been able to visit
places in Rojava and speak to many people as the future of Rojava, and
Syria in general, continues to hang in the air. This interview took
place late in December 2016. First published on Novara.
Hi Peter, we’ve got lots of questions about your experiences so
far but perhaps you could explain a little about the history to date for
some readers who might not know too many of the details.
Well, we should start by briefly talking about the origins of the
revolution. Many people skip over this part but it is vital to
understanding the dynamics of the whole revolution. The Democratic Union
party (PYD) who led the revolution have been active in northern
Syria/western Kurdistan (Rojava is the Kurmanji word for west) since
2003. Before them the Workers’ party of Kurdistan (PKK), who the PYD are
affiliated to, were permitted by the regime to use the region as a base
to organise against the Turkish state until they were ejected in 1998.
The first protests against [Syrian
president Bashar al-] Assad started in early 2011 and by the spring the
PYD had begun to focus effort into organising the Kurdish community,
forming local committees and armed self-defence units (the precursors to
the YPG and female YPJ forces).
This was to be the social basis for the revolution. In the middle of
July in 2012, as the social movement against Assad turned into a bloody
military conflict involving many international powers, these
self-defence forces, bolstered by PKK-trained guerrillas, evicted the
regime from several towns and cities in the north. The PYD’s defence
forces took control of major roads and evicted the regime forces from
key infrastructure sites with very few clashes or casualties.
The uprising had a distinct geography: areas with a predominant
Kurdish population where the PYD had been organising were the ones to
rise up and eject the regime forces. In areas without an overwhelming
Kurdish majority, Assad’s forces managed to maintain a presence. Here in
Qamishlo, where an estimated 20% of the population support the regime,
there was some heavy fighting but the regime managed to hold onto many
of the public buildings. July 2012 marks the emergence of Rojava as a
distinct force in the Syrian conflict. The cantons which were formed
declared themselves to be against Assad (though arguing that he should
be removed through elections not force), yet not a part of the rapidly
fragmenting constellation of Syrian rebels. The relationship between
Rojava and the Free Syrian Army (FSA) – the military forces initially
formed by the rebels – is a complicated one and there have been examples
of both co-operation and conflict between Rojava and different parts of
the FSA since the beginning of the revolution.
This account of the origins of the
revolution as an insurrection is contested by those more critical of the
Rojava revolution and its refusal to join the wider uprising against
Assad. Most publicly in the UK these critics include Robin Yassin-Kassab
and Leila al-Shami, the authors of Burning Country.
In this book, which only briefly touches on Rojava, the authors argue
the withdrawal of Assad’s forces was “apparently co-ordinated” with the
PYD, whose coming to power was a fait accompli, agreed beforehand with
the regime in order to free troops up from guard duty to fight the
rebels elsewhere. These two narratives (fait accompli or successful
insurrection) clash and I don’t have a definite answer – perhaps things
will become clearer in the next few months as the future of Rojava’s
relationship with the regime becomes apparent. However the fait accompli
argument doesn’t explain why there were military casualties in the
initial days, nor why hostilities continue sporadically. A conspiracy
doesn’t seem that likely. Rather, [it’s likely that] recognising the
political reality in Rojava had changed with the insurrection, Assad
renegotiated his political position with regards to this part of Syria,
possibly keeping his options open in the long term.
From this beginning the revolution
has expanded geographically – two of its three cantons are directly
connected (Kobane and Cizire cantons), and fighting continues to connect
these to Efrin canton – and also socially. A political system based
around decentralisation (the confederal system) and the construction of
local-level ‘communes’ has been instituted, an economic system which
prioritises co-operatives and provides for the people’s basic needs is
in place, and a massive shift in gender relations is under way. This is
one of the most exciting political struggles
being undertaken in the world today both in terms of its scale and
scope, made all the more impressive given the conflict continuing to
unfold in Syria and the hostility it faces from neighbouring countries.
We’ll come back to the revolution’s relationship with the regime
later on. So the revolution began as a PYD-led movement, primarily
supported by Kurds?
Exactly. After what we could call the insurrectionary phase of the
revolution – removing the regime from effective control – the next phase
was one of political consolidation and the implementation of a
political programme. This programme has three central planks: a system
of grassroots democracy (which exists in a relationship with formal
political parties and some form of representative system) which goes
under the name of democratic confederalism, a women’s revolution, and an
ecological programme (by far the least developed aspect at the moment).
Building support for this programme beyond both the PYD and the Kurdish
community were the immediate tasks of the revolution.
celebration of the anniversary of the confederal system.
Many smaller political parties are now an active part of the revolution, working together beneath the umbrella of TEV-DEM (Movement for a Democratic Society).
But obviously not everyone is supportive of what is happening. ENKS, a
coalition of 16 parties dominated by Massoud Barzani, president of the
Kurdish regional government (KRG) of Iraq, has been a vocal opponent of
many of the developments here in Rojava. Barzani does not share the
political vision of the PYD, modelling KRG on oil states like Dubai, and
is currently implementing a full embargo on Rojava alongside his ally
Turkey which is causing all kinds of problems. Because of these tensions
Carl Drott from the University of Oxford has argued that “sometimes it
seems that the only consistent policy of the KCN [ENKS] is to oppose
anything that the PYD does.”
More importantly the revolution has
prioritised gaining the trust and support of all the communities here in
Rojava. These communities (Arab, Syriac, Chechen, Armenian, Turkmen,
etc.) are participating in increasing numbers as time goes on and they
see the ideas of the revolution – and its benefits – put into practice
as well as seeing that the regime isn’t coming back. The reasons for
supporting the revolution vary from the more politically motivated, such
as a desire for a free Kurdistan or a belief in the politics of [the
PKK’s imprisoned leader Abdullah] Öcalan
and his vision of confederalism, to the less abstract desire for peace,
security and the provision of basic services which the revolution is
providing. The YPG and YPJ are pretty much universally loved here and
this support has extended to the military alliance – the Syrian
Democratic Forces (SDF) – they have built with other progressive
militias (of different ethnicities) in the region.
The revolution began from within the
Kurdish community and work to build support for it within other
communities is a central priority. This includes working with the
thousands of Arab refugees fleeing the conflict in the rest of Syria who
are being blocked from travelling to Europe by the Turkish state. Part
of my work with TEV-DEM
here centres around building this support across communities. The
Syriac community, for example, is starkly divided between the regime and
revolution, with each faction possessing its own military and police
units. Passing through the Syriac neighbourhoods these division are
quite clear, one street full of portraits of Assad and the regime’s
flag, the next containing pro-revolution checkpoints with revolutionary
slogans on the walls.
Let’s tackle the thorny question of the relationship between the regime and the PYD. In short, what’s going on?
Well, as I said earlier, the revolution didn’t kick the regime out
everywhere. Here in Qamishlo, the regime still has a presence. When
Aleppo was ‘liberated’ recently for example, there were loud, noisy
celebrations for Assad’s victory in some neighbourhoods and the regime
still pays the salaries of some civil servants like teachers.
Occasionally clashes break out in the cities where the regime still has a
presence such as Qamishlo and Hasseke.
As I said earlier the revolution here has constituted itself as a
force independent of the wider rebel movement against Assad (itself very
diverse). It has relied on the support of international social
movements, progressive political parties, and also most controversially
on the support of large states such as the USA and (at times) Russia.
These have to some extent prevented Assad or, more likely at the moment,
the Turkish state from outright crushing them, but the situation is
still perilous. With regards to the regime, it’s unclear at the moment
how the regime will orientate itself towards Rojava and vice-versa. At
the moment, neither side has the outright military strength to easily
defeat the other. With the defeat of the rebels basically being assured
with the re-occupation of Aleppo this might all change. For example, the
YPG and YPJ in the large Kurdish neighbourhood of Aleppo, Sheiq
Maqsoud, who defended it from rebel attacks (and also aided Assad’s
forces at some points in the fighting) have now pulled out, only leaving
Asayish (armed police) in the neighbourhood.
This ‘relationship’ with the regime has been criticised by many. At
the start of the Syrian uprising the potential for a broader alliance
between Kurds and Arabs seemed possible but failed for a variety of
reasons. These include a latent Arab chauvinism, a by-product of decades
of colonial rule in Rojava by the regime which was one factor in the
unwillingness of both the regime and the rebels to see Kurdish autonomy
established. The rise to pre-eminence of Islamist forces on the rebel
side also blocked a wide-scale alliance between the Rojava revolution
and the rebels. Alliances have been made with forces in the regions that
make up the cantons, the SDF for example, but a broad alliance with the
larger factions on the rebel side did not come about. This missed
alliance, if it was ever possible, has probably significantly shaped the
outcome of the rest of the conflict.
We have seen a rapid expansion of the Rojava cantons, particularly
into areas with a sizeable Arab population. Could you tell us about
your experiences of how the different ethnic groups are accommodated
into the revolution, and how it has been received?
Since 2015 the areas controlled by
the cantons have expanded massively through their offensives against
Isis. It’s undeniable that one reason for this is to build a continuous,
connected system of cantons. These offensives, by a primarily Kurdish
military into primarily Arab areas, have thrown up some problems. I had
the opportunity to visit the front at Salouk in December. As the Raqqa
offensive pushed the front lines further forward people were being
allowed to return to their villages. In the main the villagers I met
seemed broadly supportive of the SDF forces they came into contact with.
However, not all the villagers support what is happening – many, we
were told, had been or still were supporters of Isis. We visited one
Tabur (military unit) which had been the victim of a suicide attack
earlier in the year; the attacker was a frequent visitor from the
village next door.
As the area controlled by the confederal system has expanded, changes
have taken place to accommodate the increasing numbers of non-Kurdish
participants. I’ve mentioned the SDF as a multi-ethnic military
coalition, which marked a positive step forward for the revolution. The
current official name of the region, the Democratic Federal System of
Northern Syria, is an indication of the multi-ethnic project the
revolution is trying to build. We saw one of the co-chairs of the
confederal system, Mansur Salem, who is a Syrian arab, speak a while
back and he was stressing how building this multi-ethnic support is a
key political challenge for the revolution.
To what extent is the ideology of the revolution in Rojava being taken up by ordinary people?
Visitors arriving in Rojava expecting
some kind of transcendental revolutionary experience will be
disappointed. Given the amazing work that is happening, and all the
great media being produced for western audiences this isn’t surprising,
but beyond the front the way the revolution is manifesting itself can
often be quite subtle or even not as developed as one might expect or
hope.
I’ve already mentioned the fact that
spreading the values of the revolution into other communities is a work
in progress. As another example, whilst the higher levels of the
confederal system, especially in cities, are well developed, the lowest
level, the commune –
a neighbourhood level institution in which the most direct
participation in political assemblies and politically-themed committees
takes place – is not as widespread as one might think from the outside.
The reasons for this come back to the origins and dynamics of the
insurrectionary phase of the revolution as discussed earlier.
Counterintuitively, we have the higher levels of this political system
actively trying to expand the grassroots level of political
participation. Lots of work is taking place to expand the numbers of
communes numerically and geographically. It requires finding physical
resources and educating people in the local community about the values
of the revolution and the way the (sometimes complicated) systems work
here. But perhaps the most visible element of the revolution is the role
of women in society here.
That was going to be my next question. The image often projected
of the revolution emphasises women’s liberation and the role of the YPJ
in leading the call to change gender relations. How much does this
impact on daily life in Rojava, and is it really such a fundamental part
of the movement?
A criticism from the left in Europe, as exemplified in a recent article by Gilles Dauvé,
is that the women’s revolution in Rojava is limited to the women in the
YPJ. If it were then Rojava could not be seen to be having a women’s
revolution. After all, the Israeli state conscripts female soldiers and
[Muammar] Gaddafi was famous for having female bodyguards. History is
littered with examples of women playing a significant role in social
struggles or military conflicts, only to be returned to subservient
social positions at the ending of hostilities. But this isn’t where the
women’s revolution stops here in Rojava. Neither does it stop at the
point of ensuring 40% women’s representation in all committees and an
equality of speaking roles (alone a step beyond most western states).
Underpinning all these clearly
visible outcomes is the slow, patient development of the women’s
political movement: political education for women to develop their
skills and build the confidence of future organisers, forms of
(re)education and intervention against abusive men, the activity of
women’s committees at all levels of the confederal system, and the
tireless work of the Kongreya Star (star congress) – the organised expression of the women’s movement here.
Once again, this isn’t a problem-free process; these changes are
being built upon a hugely conservative society where violence against
women, honour killings, forced marriage, an incredibly huge pay
differential, as well as the more humdrum features of patriarchy were
all extremely common before the revolution. The movement is working hard
to bring everyone with them, to be firm and take immediate action where
needed or to take a more long-term approach where this is more
effective.
Like everything here, it shares many
features with western movements but retains many differences. The
political underpinnings of the women’s movement here are collectively
called Jineology,
which means the science of women. Öcalan is, unsurprisingly, a key
jineological theorist and has laid out a broad argument about the
historical roots of patriarchy which overcame a peaceful matriarchal
society. Capitalism is seen as inherently patriarchal and Öcalan, who is
once again the key reference point for the movement, argues “the need
to reverse the role of man is of revolutionary importance.”
First young women’s conference in Cizire canton.
But some parts of this theory will be
more problematic for some feminists in the west. For example, the
Jineological approach to gender seems to be an essentialist one where
definite characteristics are assigned to the genders. Queer feminists
will find this ideology quite challenging. The politics of sexuality are
also quite different than in the west, for cadre sexual relations are
pretty much forbidden and in the rest of society there is a strong
emphasis on abstinence until marriage. In many interviews when queer
sexuality is raised the standard answer seems to be something along the
lines of ‘we’ve never met a gay person in Rojava before’. However this
is something which will hopefully be addressed as time goes on, and I’ve
heard reports of public lectures on LGBT politics taking place in some
areas.
That’s a good point about Jineology not mapping onto western
feminism directly. Could this be said about Apoist movements in general?
Yeah, definitely. Lots of debates
about the PKK built on answering the question ‘are they an anarchist
organisation?’ have gone around in circles because they have failed to
actually analyse the movement itself. In the same way the PKK was never a
straightforward Marxist-Leninist organisation historically, it isn’t an
anarchist movement today. The PKK and its sister organisations
self-define as ‘Apoist’ – a movement built around Abdullah Öcalan and
his, well, quite eclectic work. The movements based on his political
vision are contradictory, especially since the development of the ‘new
paradigm’ since Öcalan’s arrest in 1999. This paradigm significantly
changed many parts of the PKK’s political vision. Although the PKK has
now formally renounced the desire for an independent Kurdish state and
replaced it with its model of democratic confederalism, it is still a
hierarchical movement with strict discipline for cadre and a cult of
personality around Öcalan himself. Its conception of revolution doesn’t map onto those conceptions held by classical revolutionary movements, being:
“…neither the anarchist idea of abolishing the whole state
immediately, nor the communist idea of taking over the whole state
immediately. Over time we will organise alternatives to each part of the
state run by the people, and when they succeed, that part of the state
dissolves.”
Quite importantly its critique of
capitalism, or capitalist modernity in its own terminology, whilst quite
opaque (an opacity which isn’t helped by the lack of movement works
translated into English) certainly isn’t as fundamental as those coming
from the Marxist tradition. Whilst the Apoist movement corresponds with
many of the values of socialist and anarchist traditions it is something
distinct and different.
There was an article by two other international volunteers
who self-define as anarchists on the Plan C website a short while ago.
The article makes some useful and important points about the complicated
practicalities of showing solidarity here and for that it should
definitely be read. They make the (uncontroversial) point that working
in Rojava is not neutral. The choices of who and how we work with here
will strengthen some groups, individuals and dynamics rather than
others, and we need to be aware of this.
I read this as making the implicit
argument common to many on the anti-authoritarian left to support the
people or the social movements rather than organised parties. A
particular problem with that perspective here is that the Apoist
movement has transcended the boundaries of its political parties and is
also a mass social movement with elements of self-organisation beyond
the parties. I’d argue that the revolutionary left needs to be
supporting the PYD and Apoist movements across the Middle East rather
than some loosely defined, potentially fictitious unaligned ‘people’.
They are a very large, possibly the largest, progressive force in the
Middle East and a large part of their politics resonate strongly with
our own. Demonstrating a serious commitment to real solidarity work,
which once it moves beyond writing articles starts to become very
challenging, helps to build the platform from which to engage in
discussion with these movements. There are parts of the Apoist vision
which I’d love to critically debate with them (for instance definitions
and critiques of capitalism) but this will probably only happen
meaningfully when one can demonstrate a track record of sorts.
Going back to the communes, how important are they?
At the local level they are important for solving small problems,
highlighting big ones, and function as the most local transmission belt
of the ideas of the revolution. As well as running the local meetings
and committees, the lower levels of the system serve as centres to
mobilise people for self-defence or for demonstrations and rallies. When
we go to political events we usually leave in large convoys of buses
from our neighbourhood’s Mala Gel (People’s House – basically a social
centre) and when we organise events the local communes are a vital
resource for directly connecting with people. I haven’t seen enough of
this quite complex system to judge to what extent the ideas from the
base of this system are listened to higher up the federal system through
the various elected delegates and thematic committees.
It’s quite funny, I met a European Marxist-Leninist here who was
convinced the anarchists had got the entire revolution wrong and that
the communes had a very peripheral role in what was going on. For him,
the revolution was dominated by the PYD with the YPG and YPJ providing
the muscle behind it. When he met one of the
international Marxist-Leninist parties
here doing consistent community work promoting and actually setting up
communes his whole attitude completely changed. Perhaps some on the left
are a bit optimistic about how developed the commune system is but it
definitely exists and is growing, we just shouldn’t confuse our desires
with reality.
The Economy Question: One of the most important questions for many on the left is what kind of economy is being built?
Northern Syria was historically deliberately underdeveloped by the
Syrian regime and treated like an internal colony. Arab settlers were
encouraged to move into the region and alongside the exploitation of oil
reserves found in the area, the other main sector, agricultural
production, was strictly managed. What is now Efrin canton had its many
forests replaced with olive plantations whilst in the 1970s the regime
spread the rumour that a particularly vicious tomato blight was
spreading from Turkey in order to encourage the conversion of
agricultural production in Cizire canton completely to wheat. In winter,
driving through the endless empty fields which make up the countryside
in Cizire canton is quite a bleak experience. Efforts are now underway
to diversify agricultural production for both ecological and economic
reasons.
So the revolution did not inherit
much in the way of large scale means of production. The few large
productive sites that exist have been socialised. I think these are a
concrete factory, the oil wells, and, since the Manbij campaign, the
Tishrin dam. Here in Qamishlo there are about 60 ‘factories’ with a
maximum size of 20 employees. Some of these are private initiatives,
some run as co-operatives. The commercial and logistical side of life in
Rojava is also on the small scale. When the regime was evicted there
was little in the way of large scale logistics systems – transport
systems, or the integrated logistics systems large supermarket chains
possess – which could be socialised. The tiny rail system is out of
commission and the regime holds the airport in Qamishlo, which only
hosts an infrequent internal route to Damascus.
In a great interview by Janet Biehl, the adviser for economic development in Cizire canton discusses the ‘three economies’
functioning in parallel in Rojava. You can read about it yourself but
in short these are the ‘war economy’, the ‘open economy’ (i.e. the
private economy) and the ‘social economy’. At the moment the war economy
– subsidised bread and oil for example – dominates with the social
economy of co-operatives being pointed out as a future hope. Obviously
the danger is if/when the embargo is lifted and private investment is
allowed in – especially for expensive infrastructure like oil refineries
and heavy industry – that the social economy is completely outcompeted.
I wouldn’t want to venture a
prediction about the future of the economy here, though the future
challenges seem quite clear, but I can say it’s disappointing that some
on the left aren’t supporting what is happening here because of the
persistence of private property, commodity production and the wage
relation. This is a kind of ‘all or nothing’ purism which often comes
from such an abstract place, seemingly removed from an acknowledgement
of the difficulties of actual social change. No revolution so far has
managed to abolish capitalist relations – let alone in the space of a
few years, during an international proxy war, whilst also under embargo!
Whilst the Apoist critique of capitalist modernity is certainly not a
Marxist one, here in Rojava its economic strategy is broadly a
progressive one – albeit with question marks over the future – which
deserves our solidarity.
To withhold support because
capitalism will still function in some form for the foreseeable future
seems short-sighted. It’s interesting that we often support
non-communist social struggles right up to the point that they attain
the ability to significantly change the world, at which point many of us
withdraw our support. We need to take a longer term view of social
change which recognises it as a contradictory and complicated process.
Just because the revolution here isn’t immediately implementing
communism doesn’t mean we shouldn’t support it.
What is the dominant political make-up of international
volunteers? What kind of expectations do they come with, and in what
ways are those confirmed or subverted?
In general, the people who arrive
here are a mixture of the starry eyed and those expecting something a
bit more realistic. At one point, based on internet coverage alone, it
seemed as if the majority of volunteers were adventurers, well-meaning
liberals, or even more right-wing people just here to fight Isis. But
whilst this might have been the case at one point it certainly isn’t
now. The YPG has noticed the problematic views and behaviours of some of
its volunteers and has started to be more selective when it comes to who is volunteering.
Unsurprisingly, there are many
volunteers from the Kurdish diaspora but beyond this the majority of
volunteers I’ve met or heard about here are leftists. There is a
relatively large presence of Turkish comrades from Marxist-Leninist and
Maoist organisations for example. The other volunteers here are mainly
from Europe and north America, and the majority are in military units.
This includes a dedicated international Tabur – the International Freedom Battalion – people at home have probably seen some of the great pictures from their English-speaking ‘Bob Crow Brigade’.
Due to language barriers, and the
difficulties of travelling here and finding a placement where one can be
useful, there aren’t that many international volunteers in civil
society. Hopefully this will get easier as time goes on. At the moment
if people want to volunteer here they should think about what skills
they have or can get before they travel. For example, if people are
interested then training up to be an ESL (English as a secondary
language) teacher is a great way of being useful here as the demand for
lessons is very high.
What do you think the presence of international volunteers adds to the movement?
Sometimes specific skills which are
in high demand here, medical staff for instance. If not, at the very
least volunteers work as a link between Rojava and the rest of the
world. The people here know they aren’t alone and the rest of the world
gets to find out a little more about what is happening. This is
obviously a big responsibility for those with the ability to report back
and portray an entire revolution based on their experiences. Those of
us doing this need to try to be honest about what we’ve seen, what we
think, and the limits of our personal experience.
It’s not surprising but it is
disappointing to see criticisms of the majority of volunteers as
‘orientalist adventurers’, ‘closet islamophobes’, or ‘fantasists with a
hero complex’ which have arisen in some parts of the left. Whilst a few
people do fit this bill, most volunteers – especially politically active
comrades who have responded to calls to volunteer – aren’t like this at
all. The YPG is also now taking steps to filter those kinds of
volunteers out. It’s quite astonishing how even what I’d call an
uncontroversial historical value of the communist movement –
internationalism – is coming under fire from those who also see
themselves as part of the left. It feels like there are more left
volunteers from pre-existing structures here now, or perhaps they are
just using media channels more effectively. Either way, hammering home
the point that this is a progressive struggle which is demanding the
support of the international left and which sees itself as part of an
international movement is massively important and is a political task we
can all be involved with.
What do you think has been the most significant impact of the revolution so far?
For the people of the region the
revolution has liberated them from the domination of the Assad regime
and Isis. It has also made massive progress in terms of women’s
liberation and direct democracy. Internationally the revolution has
given a massive boost to the struggles north of the border in Bakur and
Turkey and to revolutionaries further afield. Although we need to be
cautious, there are many lessons we can learn from this revolution. At
the very least Rojava serves as a reminder that revolution is always a
possibility where revolutionaries are organised, committed and prepared
to risk their lives.
Our two volunteers in Qamishlo
Any final comments?
The revolution here does not map onto
the perfect fantasy of some revolutionaries in the west. It wasn’t the
spontaneous uprising of the overwhelming majority of the people, they
haven’t abolished the state (if that is ever possible) or capitalism,
and there are still problems to be solved. Despite the fact that this
isn’t full communism right here and right now, this revolution needs to
be applauded and supported. Like all revolutions, this one has not
emerged fully formed but is being built on the fly in the face of much
opposition. Unlike many revolutions this one is quite hard to define:
labels like ‘anarchist’ or ‘stateless revolution’ obscure more than they
reveal. What we do know is that this revolution is pushing forward
forms of popular democracy, women’s liberation and some form of
solidarity economy. Life in Rojava is better for more people than most
parts of the Middle East.
For those afraid of revolutionaries
having real power to make change rather than maintaining ‘resistance’
forever, I’d like to quote Murray Bookchin (whose influence on the
struggle here is definitely overstated in certain quarters).:
“Anarchists may call for the
abolition of the state, but coercion of some kind will be necessary to
prevent the bourgeois state from returning in full force with unbridled
terror. For a libertarian organisation to eschew, out of misplaced fear
of creating a ‘state’, taking power when it can do so with the support
of the revolutionary masses is confusion at best and a total failure of
nerve at worst.”
Those taking an ultra-left position
on Rojava, and rejecting it out of hand, show us more about the
weaknesses of their own politics than of the revolution taking place
here. A real revolution is a mass of contradictions which must be fought
through. That the revolution is doing that here without resorting to
the dictatorship of one political party makes this a particularly
important revolution for the libertarian left to be supporting.
There are more ways for the left to
express solidarity with Rojava, and the wider struggle it is part of
here in the region, than writing articles or sharing things on Facebook.
Getting information out about what is happening here is important of
course, but the obligations for political organisations who support the
revolution here, and who have the capacity, must be much higher. For
example in the UK Plan C’s Rojava solidarity cluster works with
Kurdish-led structures organising discussions and demonstrations, has
raised money for things like a school bus and medical supplies, and is
now sending volunteers for civil work.
There are a few hardworking Kurdish
solidarity groups in the UK also doing great work. When compared to
long-running solidarity campaigns, like the Palestinian solidarity
campaigns for instance, Kurdish solidarity campaigns are still in their
infancy in the UK. The massive intensification of Turkey’s
counterrevolutionary role both within its state borders and beyond,
potentially spilling into Iraq this year, make this solidarity even more
important. Effective national solidarity structures need to be
established or joined, and federated together internationally. It’s a
bit cliched but we can’t forget the slogan ‘solidarity isn’t a word,
it’s a weapon’.
* ‘Rojava’ is used instead of the
Democratic Federal System of Northern Syria – the area’s official title –
as both a shorthand and as the name many in the west are more familiar
with.
