“It was a scene that couldn’t have been more cliché. One of those autumn nights so typical for this metropolis, cold and windy, in one of the dirtiest districts of the city. I still remember the occasional rain, a fine drizzle, and the dark, shabby alley in which we walked up and down. Nervously I smoked cigarette after cigarette, as I let the monologue of the stranger drip down on me like the rain. I was ready to go, I had said goodbye to everyone who was important to me. I wanted to go to the mountains, we had discussed that, and everything seemed to be clear – until the stranger held out his hand and this one word came up: join.
I had no idea what joining was, what it really meant and where it would take me. The details were uncertain, but the essentials were clear, undeniable. I lived in a world that was necessary to be radically changed, and Kurdistan was the best place to actually do so. Here, in the beast’s heart, things were not getting better, they were getting worse, and we had no realistic perspective of changing that. We were trapped in the status quo.
I already had a problem with the status quo for a long time. The status quo has always been a rotten compromise everywhere. An imposed compromise, a forced relationship, and I struggled to adjust, to fit in. Whether family, school or other institutions, they never had it easy with me. Always insolent, always cheeky, always wanting to have the last word – that was me. It was only much later that I realized that behind many of these early conflicts was more than just the tendency to contradict. In retrospect, even at that time it was about the fundamental questions of social life, especially about justice. As children we had a natural relationship to each other and to the world, we were closer to its truth and universal values. Without the consciousness of the cruel power relations and the norms and rules they impose, without the fear of the consequences of our actions, we were honest, innocent and free. It was passing through the institutions of this system that shaped and changed us and of course also me, forever.
The dimension of these largely negative changes became clear to me only much later, in the mountains of Kurdistan The process of realizing this started a few months before I found myself in a dark back alley when I promised a stranger to dedicate my life to the revolutionary struggle. As honorable as this may sound, it was a deep internal crisis and the unvarnished view of my own reality that brought me to that decision. The emergence of this crisis is inextricably linked with the search for alternatives. The small uprisings of my childhood have turned over the years into full-grown rebellions. Out of individual signs of protest grew the search for like-minded people, discussions and shared experiences that became the first steps into politics.
The contradiction and confusion within ourselves
The initially moderate contradictions with the system intensified quickly, both in theory and practice. The first time in handcuffs, the first stone thrown, the first tangible consequences – all these experiences only solidified the realization that the status quo was simply not an option. At the same time the search for the right way to overcome the prevailing wanted more than just protest, more than to merely denounce the injustice. I wanted to change them, to abolish them. In this spirit, I was drawn to the metropolis, to one of the alleged centers of resistance. I quickly came in touch with the right people, took part in actions and soon organized myself. We were young, willing to take risks and shared common experiences in the streets. We radicalized ourselves in words and practice, widened our fields of work and horizons. We did the right thing and had fun doing it, we lived our lives the way we wanted to live them, but the circumstances remained the same. More than that, as time went on, the reality of the system slowly but inexorable caught up with us.
Our struggle has never been more than just a small part in our everyday life, it was a hobby. The compromises grew and with every step inside the institutions also the willingness to compromise increased. Especially the first international experiences made us realize that we had to find more serious solutions to the urgent questions of that time – we needed a line, a plan, an organization. That was the conviction of at least a few, without much experience and knowledge, but with a lot of motivation. It was precisely at this time that we got to know the Kurdish liberation movement. We were impressed, we were fascinated by the radicalism and the efficiency of this movement. But even more than that we were looking for perspectives – we hoped to find answers to our questions, solutions to our problems.
We approached accordingly, with good intentions but a superficial understanding; we tried to implement in our own practice what we allegedly had learned from the movement. It didn’t take long until our own standards caught up with us. While we focused in our political struggle, mainly on our outcome, the internal contradictions started to intensify as we got deeper into theory, organization and practice. The lack of substantiated common values and beliefs became more and more obvious, but our ability to provide the correct answers did not exist.
Not that we couldn’t find the right words or analyze the problems – the problem was our life itself, how we lived and who we were. The better we understood the system, the more our own involvement became clearer – we were no longer children, no longer honest, free and innocent. Although we had written the slogans of the struggle on our flags, tattooed them on our skin and screamed them out on the streets, we had to recognize early how deep the supposed enemy lived in our heads and hearts. Our existence was deeply schizophrenic, our personalities divided – being radical in the meetings, thoughts and papers but in our daily life, in the institutions, in our feelings and our private life at best reformist, often enough apolitical and opportunistic, far too often even reactionary. Even in our supposed community of beliefs we only got into one of the many roles we had to play in our lives. The scene, the group, most of our social contacts were at best communities of purpose, our relationships with each other pragmatic, calculated and focused on our own individual benefit. Because we were unable to show our true selves even in our closest surrounding without fear of rejection, disregard or exclusion; the only hope to escape the eternal loneliness and coldness was the search for the one, perfect person.
The search for love
The one person who could give us everything that society denied in us: affection, closeness, sympathy, tenderness, strength, trust, safety and appreciation, in other words: Love. It was precisely in these, our closest relationships, that revealed the ugliest parts of our personalities: Envy, jealousy, claims of domination and possession were the rule, not the exception. Just as we de facto accepted and continued our role as exploited and exploiters in relation to the state and capital, we willingly reproduced these relations again and again in our own relationships. Our affection to each other often consisted of mutual objectification and what we called love was usually nothing more than the ultimate promise of satisfaction of one’s own needs. We didn’t love others, we loved ourselves first and abused others as a means to an end. We gave to get. On this basis we weren’t able to live true friendship, true comradeship or even true love, quite seeds for humiliation, disappointment and mutual harming.
To find a revolutionary way of dealing with all these problems would have meant to change our personalities and ourselves as a collective, our relationships and our life without compromises: to free ourselves from all the supposed constraints of the system, to resist its temptations and seductions, to no longer numb ourselves, deny ourselves, prove ourselves. The truth is, most of us weren’t ready for that.
I had to painfully realize that I became a part of this whole oppressive thing by myself, that I fed and lived it, accepted, approved and actually even enjoyed it. This realization was at first even more a vague feeling, a side effect of shame about my own mistakes, pain and disappointment in view of the absence of a revolutionary way of dealing with this reality of all of us, but also my reality. That led me into a deep crisis. A crisis of meaning, literally. In this situation it was the thoughts and analyses of Rêber APO, that turned the feelings into understanding, which cleared up doubts and ambiguities. It was the philosophy of the Kurdish liberation movement that made me understand my own reality, held up a mirror and called me to take responsibility, but without moralizing, without condemning. It was the PKK that showed a viable alternative to the eternal circle of oppressing and being oppressed.
Understanding the meaning of Revolution
While we became drowned personally and politically in a lack of perspective, senselessness and complicity with the system and only strengthened the prevailing conditions through our way of life, the friends of the PKK were in a merciless struggle for survival, but despite their sacrifices they kept going forward, towards victory. The heroic resistance of these people against a hostile world and the cruelest fascism was already enough to appeal to conscience and revolutionary responsibility. But not only morally, also politically and strategically, the assessment was clear: although we desperately tried not to lose confidence and hope for a better world completely, there was no real chance of success in the metropolises, not as long as we all benefit from the imperial exploitation.
The revolutionary potential of this world is in the Global South, and there was a movement that had proven in theory and practice to be able to mobilize this potential. They had managed to show the whole world an alternative to barbarism, to give hope. PKK was and still is for me the opportunity of our time – the ray of hope on the horizon, the hope to pool the fragmented, revolutionary forces of this world and a realistic possibility to create a real chance for the realization of our dreams of a liberated society. From a revolutionary view, that necessarily means that a global perspective, internationalism, conviction and strategic necessity in the struggle against a hegemonic system, is not a matter of personal preferences, but a basic requirement for any serious endeavor for change. Those who claim to be committed to the global revolution but are practically unwilling to move out of their own comfort zone should better keep silent about overcoming nationalism and individualism.
Back then, in that dark alley, it was not a question of choice as it is now. No decision between real options. When the true nature of the system and your own involvement in it is recognized for the first time, then there can be no more excuses. There is no alternative to resistance, struggle and liberation. To accept the oppression and exploitation, and to legitimize one’s own participation in it despite existing alternatives, means nothing different than a compromise and practical solidarity with the prevailing conditions. I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready to deny myself, to accept and integrate neither to my own status quo, nor to that of this world. I was also not ready to just stand on the safe edge and applaud, to leave the filthy job only for those who have always done it for us.
On that autumn night there would have been many arguments, but especially excuses, to reject the stranger’s outstretched hand.
But I’ve had enough of this.”
https://ok.ru/video/4914350852655
Source: Nûçe Ciwan