Observations at the PKK’s ceremony to burn weapons in Iraq.
Observations at the PKK’s ceremony to burn weapons in Iraq.
By Ferdi Tanhan – Deputy Chairman and Diyarbakır Provincial Chairman of the Vatan Party
On July 11, the PKK held a symbolic disarmament ceremony in Iraq’s Sulaymaniyah with a group of 30 members and announced that the organization had been dissolved.
The process, officially referred to as a “Terror-Free Türkiye,” is ongoing. A parliamentary commission, with participation from multiple parties, is reviewing the next steps and the legal aspects of the process. The media and the public continue to follow and discuss developments on a daily basis.
The ceremony, which garnered significant international media attention, was attended by one of the invited guests, Ferdi Tanhan, Deputy Chairman of the Vatan Party and the party’s provincial head in Diyarbakır.
Shortly after the ceremony, Tanhan penned an article sharing his observations and views on the process. We present the article below in its English translation for your interest.
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We set off from Diyarbakır in the early hours of the morning. With me are Zeynettin Bozan, our party’s provincial chair in Mardin, and Yusuf Tuncer, a diplomatic correspondent from Aydınlık newspaper. We’re guests of the Peoples’s Equality and Democracy Party (DEM Party). Our journey will take us to Erbil, and then to Sulaymaniyah. We’re on the road to attend the PKK’s disarmament ceremony.
As the bus glides slowly through the streets of Diyarbakır, it feels as though it carries thousands of stories in its luggage. On the bus are the DEM Party’s leader, senior officials, MPs… Everyone knows each other. Laughter bubbles up, whispers float between seats, greetings are exchanged. We’re the only outsiders.
A long road of ten-twelve hours lies ahead ten, maybe twelve hours. Our seatmates are surprised when they learn who we are. Even parties that have long stood shoulder to shoulder with the DEM Party have turned down the invitation with one excuse or another. But as the saying goes: where there’s a will, there’s a way, and where there isn’t, there’s always an excuse.
As the others lose themselves in the Mesopotamian plains, stretching out like silk divans, I drift into thought. Who stood at the front when the rights of the Kurdish people were trampled? Back then, when so many voices fell silent, Doğu Perinçek, the leader of the Vatan Party, was marching at the head of the uprisings…
We represent a political tradition that, forty years ago, declared armed struggle a dead end. We’ve always advocated resolving the Kurdish issue by rejecting imperialist “solutions.” While others tried to turn the Euphrates into a political and economic border, we were the ones who brought together the miners of Zonguldak in the northern part of Türkiye and the villagers of Botan in the eastern end of the country.
I think of the martyrs we lost to the Gladio. Of our fierce struggle in Bismil shoulder to shoulder with impoverished Kurdish peasants against the landowners. Of the stubborn speeches we gave after the 1991 Gulf War, explaining how the Kurdish issue had been handed over to imperialist powers.
And maybe most importantly, how we refuted the separatist dreams lurking behind the slogan “Kurdistan is a colony!” How we insisted that the national question of our time is, at its core, a struggle against imperialism, how we told for years that separate organizing on ethnic and sectarian basis leads to separation, while organizing together to unity.
I think of those who devoted their lives to the cause of Turkish–Kurdish brotherhood. Bayram Yurtçiçek. Haluk Mihailoğlu, who survived nine PKK bullets. Halit Güngen, martyred in the fight against the Gladio. Muhyettin Öksün, who stood guard under the slogan “Down with feudalism, long live the Republic.” And Zeki Ön, a revolutionary teacher, killed at 32 in a PKK ambush while defending Türkiye’s unity.
So actually, we’re not outsiders. We know the Kurdish question inside and out. For half a century, we’ve pushed for the PKK to lay down arms. And now, we see this success also as our own.
Everyone treats us kindly. They respect our presence at such a crucial crossroads for Türkiye’ future, a party they opposed most. They ask why we are here. We share our thoughts on how peace might be achieved. Not everything we say is embraced, but the very act of sharing a common ground gives us hope.
The first to approach us is Ilknur Birol, a member of DEM Party’s Central Executive Committee. She greets us warmly, genuine and kind. “Welcome,” she says. We introduce ourselves. She tells us our presence here carries real meaning. What makes us glad is that she clearly understands we’re not here merely as observers.
Crossing the border
We had already arrived at the Habur Border Gate. Zeynettin Bozan and I exchanged looks, both surprised at how quickly the journey had passed. Zeynettin said, “If this issue is resolved, these borders will no longer be borders by tribalism, mistrust and discrimination. Brotherhood and trust will take their place. The countries in this region won’t position themselves against each other anymore. They will move toward unity, and the problems will be solved by excluding imperialists.”
We understood how right Zeynettin’s words the moment we crossed the border. We were welcomed by Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) officials. The stance of the delegation including the Governor of Duhok, parliamentarians, and an advisor to Nechirvan Barzani showed clearly that they wanted this process to succeed as much as Türkiye. The US withdrawal seemed to have curbed the regional government’s politics that relied on Western imperial powers.
After a short tea break, we are on the road toward Erbil. We arrived at the hotel very late. We couldn’t get enough of talking about tomorrow and Türkiye’s future. But we knew we’d have to get up very early. When we closed our eyes, the warm night of Erbil seeped inside us, the power of darkness was no match for the light.
From the wavy sea of earth to Sulaymaniyah
Early in the morning, we are on the Erbil-Sulaymaniyah Road by dozens of black vehicles. Before the ceremony begins, I want to jot down my thoughts. Here’s what I write:
“We are passing through a wavy sea of earth cracked by the scorching heat of the sun. A pale yellow, wavy, barren sea stretches out before us. In these black-wheeled boats, there’s nothing to do but think.
The hopes in our hearts are strong enough to turn even this landscape green. Yet still, these barren lands remind me of a scarcity: a scarcity of social hope.
Today, the concrete effects of the decline of the US in our country are openly felt, so much so that the PKK, whom the US once called their “land force”, is now laying down arms.
Yet, those who should be celebrating and raising morale in the face of this event are instead drowning in pessimism. Even this pale-yellow sea of earth is more fertile than their hearts. The scarcity of social hope is a bigger problem in our country than terrorism itself.
Of course, every person carries both hope and fear. But those who only fuel fear secretly wish for what they fear most to come true. Don’t you see the reality that there are those who don’t want the PKK to lay down their arms?
What overcomes fear is the joy of life born from hope. Every program, every movement that claims to beautify the future should be measured by the life enthusiasm it creates. Today, we must ensure that the wave of rising social hope transforms into a life force that will determine Türkiye’s destiny.”
The Cesena Caves and rebellion against imperialism
We stand on the edge of a cliff. The saying “The path to the summit passes through cliffs” echoes in my mind. When we arrive at the ceremony area surrounded on three sides by mountains, we see the high-level security measures taken by Iraqi intelligence, the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) security units, and Türkiye’s intelligence service MİT. We find a place in the front row, right across the group who will make the declaration.
The ceremony is calm, disciplined, modest, and without any showiness. Bese Hozat, one of the leaders of the PKK lists several reasons, causes, explanations, historical interpretations… You can debate all of these. But in the end, together with other PKK members, she throws the weapons which were provided to them by imperialists into the fire. The speech by Mr. Doğu Perinçek on June 4, 2024, runs through my mind:
“There is only one honorable solution: to give up betraying your homeland, to give up betraying your nation, to throw away the weapons of the US and Israel.”
An honorable ceremony is taking place. There are young women in their twenties, there are ones who have been part of the movement since the foundation. We are most happy that these young women and men choose life, laying down their arms by their own free and voluntary will. All of them are citizens of the Republic of Türkiye. The value of opening a path for these citizens to return to their homeland is priceless.
They will likely hold onto some of their ideas after coming back to the homeland. However, as long as they no longer cause deaths, do not take up arms, and do not serve as puppets of imperialism, harmful ideas can change over time. We all know from life experience that those who make mistakes sometimes choose more virtuous paths than those who do not. Remember the story of Prophet Muhammad appointing Ikrima, a pagan, as governor of Mecca. Or Atatürk welcoming with a red carpet those who had signed his death warrant. And what Mao Zedong said to Chiang Kai-shek’s generals who killed his own comrades. All these historical examples stand right before us, rising from the smoke over the burning weapons.
The ceremony ends and former PKK members, calling themselves now the Peace and Democratic Society Group, head back toward the Cesena Caves they came from. We turn to our vehicle.
We meet Serhat Eren, DEM Party’s Diyarbakır MP. “The process is now in your hands. You need to explain to the public what you witnessed here. Your telling this will be more effective than us” he says. We respond, “This will be the success of all of us.” We acknowledge the great and difficult task ahead of us.
We want to take a photo with Zeynettin Bozan among these mountains. We meet two locals dressed in traditional clothes. We ask them in Kurdish why this cave is a touristic place. They say these caves were where Sheikh Mahmud gave madrasa education. I ask, “Sheikh Mahmud Berzenci?” They reply, “Yes.” At that moment, we understand why the ceremony was held here. It’s a reference to the historical Turkish-Kurdish alliance.
Right after taking the photo, I share it with this caption:
“The Cesena Caves, where the PKK laid down arms, is a well-thought symbol. Locally, it’s also known as Sheikh Mahmud Cave. Sheikh Mahmud Berzenci was a leading figure of Kurdish resistance against the British occupation after World War I and a prominent ally of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. After World War I, Mustafa Kemal Pasha sent Özdemir Bey to assist Sheikh Mahmud Berzenci, who continued fighting the British and used natural shelters like these caves. Laying arms down here is a rebellion against imperialism.”
We get into our vehicle. We start talking with Abdülkadir Güleç, President of the Diyarbakır Bar Association. I tell him these caves were where Sheikh Mahmud Berzenci ran his struggle. He is well-informed about the topic. He recommends me to listen to the “Sheikh Mahmud” song by the dengbêj Kawis Axa.
As soon as I get internet access, I listen to it while leaving the Cesena Caves behind, surrounded by that pale, yellowish sea of soil. Sheikh Mahmud Berzenci, who fought against British imperialism, failed because Türkiye was far away, and regional tribes abandoned him. That’s why these words from the song hurt me deeply:
“Belê fayde nîye hewar dikem hewarê turka gele dûre…”
(Yes, shouting is useless, the Turkish people are far away…)
Return to Diyarbakır
We begin the journey back to Diyarbakır. On the bus, we share ideas with the people we met. I clarify our stance by saying that what will happen to those who lay down their arms, citizens of the Republic of Türkiye, cannot be left ambiguous. Ms. İlknur appreciates our strategic approach and lawmaking efforts.
We share our thoughts about the future of the world. I say the world is in the era of national states. She, on the other hand, poses a question: “Could the system be moving toward smaller city-states?” As our conversation comes to an end, she smiles and says, “I never would have imagined having such a deep conversation with a member of the Vatan Party.”
On the morning of July 12, we arrive in Diyarbakır from the scorching heat of Erbil. We have breakfast and say goodbye to everyone we traveled with.
We return from Sulaymaniyah with determination and hope to bring this process to a successful conclusion.