Written by: Burz Kohi
Translated by: Ruzhn Baluch
It is said that the nations that picked up arms in history either became empires or ended up in graves. The Kurdish struggle is a long scream caught in between this tradition, one that became neither an empire nor a grave, but was instead buried in a “new agreement.” The PKK, which for years we perceived as a metaphor, is now trying to free itself from that very symbol. Those who once slept on mountaintops with eyes wide open are now trapped in the dreams of cities. This is not merely the surrendering of arms, but the demobilization of an entire ideology, in which mountains, women, identity, and revolution have all been buried under the wall of a “social contract.”
Some may call this retreat a process of democratic evolution, a sign of mature political wisdom. But it is neither evolution nor wisdom. It is the ideological breakdown of an organization that, having passed through the prisons of leadership, the compulsions of narrative, and the sweet poison of global establishment, has now transformed into a “moderate” ally.
After years of armed resistance, the Kurds have declared that they are now willing to accept principles of equality, cultural autonomy, and democratic participation within the state. What they now call “democratic confederalism” is, in fact, an escape from the very idea of homeland that once lay at the heart of their struggle. But the real question is: why would a nation that for decades saw itself as existing beyond the state now choose to reconnect with that very state?
The answer lies neither in fatigue nor in a naive desire for peace, but in a deeper process of consciousness, where the resistance’s ideological clarity was so entangled by state strategies, global deceptions, and internal intellectual fragmentation that the nation ended up redefining the very meaning of its identity.
The Kurdish national resistance, particularly under the leadership of the PKK against Turkey, is considered one of the most organized, ideological, and enduring movements in the Middle East over the past half-century. This movement emerged at a time when Kurdish identity in Turkey was not only declared illegal but was also erased from language, culture, and land. In response to this vacuum created by state repression, the PKK established itself not merely as a military organization, but as an institution for the reorganization of Kurdish society. It sought to provide Kurds with a unified identity across military, social, educational, and ideological domains, and to a large extent, it succeeded.
But what once becomes a symbol of strength can, in the next phase, turn into a chain. Over time, as the PKK entered the arena of global politics, it faced a silent tension between internal organizational autonomy and external geopolitical pressure. This tension laid the groundwork for the seeds of retreat.
The PKK’s current position, where it has abandoned the demand for full independence and agreed to become a “peaceful partner” within Turkey’s constitutional framework, is not merely a political tactic but an ideological choice shaped by multiple layers of transformation.
The first factor was the prolonged fatigue of war, caused by relentless state aggression, the absence of internal stability, and organizational bloodshed. More than forty years of armed struggle placed a heavy burden on the collective psyche, leaving generations with inherited, unfulfilled dreams. Eventually, the leadership was forced to ask: Can this price still be paid?
The second, and most delicate factor, was the movement’s increasing dependence on a single individual after the arrest of Öcalan. The thinking that once held the movement together had now undergone a transformation shaped by the solitary experience of imprisonment, becoming more pragmatic, abstract, and aligned with the “universal language” of global discourse. Öcalan’s ideological writings, which once flowed like a river of revolutionary philosophy, had now begun to be recast into more “acceptable” demands: human rights, local governance, and cultural equality.
The third decisive point was the global stage, where the PKK was recognized as an effective force against ISIS in Syria. But this recognition came at a cost: it dug up the ideological foundation of the movement. Western support, though a temporary strategic necessity, brought the PKK to a place where it had to trade its demand for independence to become “practical” and “acceptable to the West.” They were told that insisting on statehood was outdated, and that in the new world, “autonomous units” are the modern face of politics. The PKK accepted this, and that was the moment the struggle shrank from a national liberation movement to a handful of district councils.
The Baloch nation, standing at a similar crossroads, must not only ask what the Kurds have gained or lost, but also what we might lose. The current Baloch freedom movement, now in its third and most intense phase of resistance, must determine where it positions itself within the triangle of ideological consistency, military advancement, and public support.
So, what can the Baloch learn from this?
In my view, the Baloch must now shape their narrative not through words, but through decisions. We must avoid every strategy that begins to resemble that of the enemy. Negotiation tables, international diplomacy, and democratic participation can only be fruitful when they are rooted in one undeniable truth: the Baloch are a nation, and the survival of nations depends not merely on equality but on sovereignty. The PKK let go of this point; the Baloch movement must hold it close to its heart. Because without sovereignty, there can be no guarantee of equality.
We must structure our organizational framework in a way that even if tomorrow our leadership is chained by the enemy, the movement will not only survive but grow intellectually stronger. We must reject every narrative that treats sacrifice as the currency of peace. We must cultivate the awareness that no organization in the world remains unconquerable unless its ideological core is aligned with its actions on the ground. The PKK abandoned that alignment, and that moment will mark the beginning of its historical regret.
The Baloch must learn from the Kurdish downfall that the enemy does not only attack with guns and artillery, but also with intellectual cunning. When they tell you that freedom is an outdated idea, your response must be We will not become old slaves of your new world. When they advise you to preserve your identity only within the bounds of culture, you must reply that identity without authority becomes nothing more than ritual.
The Kurdish fate is a page of history that the Baloch must read closely. We must seek the future of our movement along the margins of that page, in the lines not written but echoing in the consciousness of the reader. We must know who we are, where we are headed, and at what cost. It is this awareness that will guide us on a path where there is no retreat, no defeat, only a journey, and a journey that stops at nothing short of freedom.
This raises an important question: What should the Baloch position be on the PKK and the Kurdish national question today? We are witnesses to the historic sacrifices of the Kurds—their courageous and noble struggle commands our respect. But respect and imitation are two different things.
The Kurdish decision was their own, their land, their enemy, their circumstances. From them, we can learn when bending becomes dangerous, when dialogue with the enemy is laced with poison, and when the battlefield of narratives becomes more perilous than the battlefield of war. But our path will not follow in their footsteps, it will be carved in our own blood. The Baloch nation does not seek a place in the corner of a UN map. It seeks a freedom worthy of the price paid by its martyrs.
Therefore, we must adopt a tone that is neither submissive nor arrogant but dignified enough that the enemy feels the sting of a dagger when they hear it, and the ally sees a mirror when they listen. We will choose neither silence nor noise. Our tone will be the one that echoes behind the rifle of a national army and beats in the chest of a nation’s history.
The Baloch must make it clear: we acknowledge the past sacrifices of the Kurds, but we maintain an intellectual and strategic distance from their recent political trajectory. This distance is not hostility, it is dignity. We must not become a movement that folds its flag for global acceptance, but one that stands firm on its principles, even if scarred by wounds. The Kurdish outcome is before our eyes. We must now decide that our destination must be different from their end.
We should have no hesitation in saying that the Baloch national movement remains an uncompromising struggle for complete independence. We will reject every compromise that attempts to bury the idea of freedom beneath the cloak of “local autonomy” or “democratic reforms.” And we must learn this: whenever the enemy state sets the table for negotiations, there are always weapons hidden beneath it.
The PKK’s retreat is not a moment for Baloch criticism, but a lesson. A lesson that if leadership is imprisoned, if the narrative begins to mold itself to the will of global powers, if sacrifice is traded for political legitimacy, then freedom becomes nothing more than a dream. The Baloch nation must choose its own path. A path that does not emerge from the enemy’s approval, the ally’s convenience, or global “acceptance,” but from national existence, historical understanding, and an uncompromising resolve.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Balochistan Post or any of its editors.