Remarks by Kani Xulam

World Affairs Council of Greater Reading

March 11, 2026

It is customary in settings like these to acknowledge one’s host, so I want to do just that and offer my heartfelt thanks to David Huyett of the World Affairs Council of Greater Reading for inviting me to engage you in a conversation about my people, the Kurds.

When he offered me the choice of coming here or addressing you via Zoom, I told him I prefer being in the same room with my audience, and I accepted his invitation to visit your city in person. I am glad I did. I hope you too will feel the same—after my talk.

First, let me indulge in a bit of humor and tell you an American joke.

A farmer takes his cow to the market to sell. Another farmer comes by and asks, “Does your cow give a lot of milk?” The farmer replies, “I don’t know if my cow gives a lot of milk, but I do know this: my cow will give you everything she has!”

I like the joke and use it often to make a point. Although I am a Kurd, I am not so sure I know a lot of things about the Kurds. But I do know this—and you can be sure of it: like the farmer’s cow, I will give you everything that I have.

Hopefully, it will be as wholesome and nutritious as the cow’s milk. But if it isn’t, please don’t blame my host. Blame me—the wandering Kurd, still trying to make a case for my people, still working to make the world a friendlier place for the Kurds.

Now, my story.

Think of it as a three-step ladder leaning against a wall. I invite you to climb it with me. On the first step, we meet a fire-and-brimstone cleric in Tehran. On the second, a communist-turned-nationalist in Belgrade. On the third, a furious president in Ankara.

When we reach the top, I hope the experience will be something like climbing Mount Nebo in the Old Testament. The Bible tells us that from its peak, Pisgah, Moses looked out and saw the Promised Land. From my imaginary wall, you too will catch a glimpse of my homeland—Kurdistan.

The Old Testament speaks of a Promised Land “flowing with milk and honey.” In the Kurdish homeland, what flows these days is not milk and honey but tears mixed with blood. I will speak about the authors of our miseries—and, if time permits, try to lighten the mood with another joke, this time about a grinning Kurdish cow.

“Public policy is a letter we write to our children about the kind of nation we want to be,” says Senator Raphael Warnock of Georgia. The same, I believe, applies to presidential visits. President Trump, as your last guest pointed out, has visited Saudi Arabia twice. President Carter, when he moved into the White House, visited Iran once.

As 1977 was coming to a close and the new year was about to begin, Carter offered his host a toast: “Iran is an island of stability in one of the more troubled areas of the world.” Ten days later, protests broke out in Tehran. Thirteen months later, the shah abdicated his throne.

As the doctors among us will tell you, the medical profession is strictly regulated to ensure public safety. That is a good thing. Future doctors take an oath to do no harm. And we believe them—we trust them with our lives. They have secure jobs. We live longer than our parents did.

Politicians cannot say the same about their profession. There is no school for presidents or prime ministers, as far as I know. Future presidents take no oath to do no harm. Adolf Hitler professed concern for animals but not for humans, and on his watch sixty-five million of us—mostly civilians—met violent ends.

So when the Shah left Iran for the last time in 1979, the man who replaced him was not his son but Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, a Persian cleric. The judgment of the American Ambassador in Tehran was that the cleric had the potential to become the Persian Mahatma Gandhi.

As the succeeding days, months, and years would show, the judgment reflected a wish rather than reality.

The Kurds—my people—make up at least 15 percent of Iran’s population, not unlike French Canadians in English Canada. They wanted political space: autonomy in Kurdistan and democracy in Iran. They want the same today. But the Persian cleric would hear none of it.

Instead, he sent us his army and a hanging judge. The soldiers stayed; the hanging judge left. In between, thousands of Kurds met untimely brutal ends.

But what distinguishes Ayatollah Khomeini from other rulers in the world, at least for the purposes of this talk, was his reaction to the news of Iraq’s attack on Iran on September 22, 1980. He viewed it as a gift from heaven.

The two countries battled each other for eight long years. Both sides violated international norms. Iran sent indoctrinated teenage volunteers in human-wave assaults. Iraq used banned weapons to compensate for its smaller population.

Close to a million men became food for fish in the Shatt al-Arab—or fertilizer in the killing fields between Iraq and Iran. And in Washington, the cold calculus of geopolitics could be heard: “It’s a pity both sides can’t lose.”

While the war was raging, Iraq found a patron in Washington and used banned chemical weapons with impunity: first against Iranian soldiers, and later against Kurdish civilians.

In one Kurdish city—Halabja—Saddam gassed as many as five thousand Kurds, thirty-eight years ago this month.

Now let us climb the second step of my imaginary ladder.

If the first killing fields lay in Iran and Iraq, the second would lie in the Balkans—Kosovo, Croatia, Bosnia, and Serbia. A different geography, but the same human tragedy. The spark came on September 3, 1987. A mentally disturbed Albanian draftee in the Yugoslav Army killed four Serbian soldiers.

When the news reached Belgrade, the president of the League of Communists of Serbia, Slobodan Milošević, greeted it as “God-sent”—a gift from heaven.

The Berlin Wall was still standing. The Soviet Union was still intact. In the socialist world—and Yugoslavia was still part of it—enmity was not supposed to run between peoples but between classes.

Yet in those fateful years, nationalism was replacing class struggle, and Milošević cast the Serbs as good and the Albanians as bad—to win favor with the former.

I do not know whether Slobodan Milošević had read John Steinbeck’s American classic The Grapes of Wrath. Whether he had or not, he understood the script Steinbeck so painfully described.

First, persuade ordinary people that they are decent and virtuous—and that the neighbors in their midst are dirty, dangerous, and degenerate. Once that idea takes hold, the rest becomes all too easy: good people must defend themselves.

In Steinbeck’s California, the Californians turned against the Okies. In the Balkans, Milošević urged the Serbs to turn against the Kosovars.

Observing Milošević in person was the independent journalist Milo Vasić. Asked about the Serbian leader, he once told the American ambassador, Warren Zimmermann: “You Americans would become nationalists and racists too if your media were entirely in the hands of the Ku Klux Klan.”

But Milošević did not get away with murder. Pushed back into Serbia proper, his regime was brought down by nonviolent, student-led demonstrations, backed by workers and even the police.

He was taken into custody on April 1, 2001, and eighty-eight days later found himself accused of war crimes in The Hague. He died peacefully—though in a prison cell—a fate he denied to thousands of his victims—Bosnians, Croats, and Kosovars.

I have now come to the third step of my ladder.

The furious president I want you to meet is Recep Tayyip Erdoğan—the leader of Turkey for the last twenty-four years. He was supposed to be a preacher in a mosque rather than the mayor of Istanbul, the prime minister of Turkey, and now its president—some already whisper, perhaps for life.

Presidents for life are, alas, common—especially in the Middle East. Saddam Hussein thought of himself as one. Even Secretary of State Madeleine Albright—who sought to sanction and contain him—once said that “biology would take care of him.”

But then there is the Yiddish saying: “Man makes plans, and God laughs.” …

We all know where we were on the morning of September 11, 2001. I was sitting in a replica prison cell we had built at Sheridan Circle—across from the Turkish ambassador’s home—calling it the Cell of Atonement for Turkey’s Political Crimes Against the Kurds.

My phone rang. A friend from New York said the Twin Towers had been struck. On that day biology moved into overdrive—and the clock began ticking for the butcher of Baghdad.

If that ruptured moment in America’s history took Saddam Hussein to the gallows, it also helped propel Mr. Erdoğan’s rise to power in Turkey. At the time, he was on probation for inciting religious enmity by reciting a poem—“The Soldier’s Prayer”—in a mosque, a call to arms in a country already reeling from political instability.

Unable to run for public office, his party won one third of the vote in the elections of 2002, but two thirds of the seats in parliament. In Turkey at the time, political parties had to clear a 10-percent threshold for their votes to count. In 2002 many did not. Their failure doubled the parliamentary representation of Erdoğan’s party.

But Erdoğan himself could only watch from outside—as a citizen.

Then citizen Erdoğan met President Bush. Ankara mattered to the first; Baghdad was on the mind of the second. For Bush, Osama bin Laden fit the bill as a bad Muslim. Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, his aides suggested, could pass as a good one.

When they met, Bush told him,

“You believe in the Almighty, and I believe in the Almighty. That’s why we’ll be great partners.”

To the Kurds of the Middle East, it must have looked like a grim round of musical chairs. On March 14, 2003, Washington welcomed Mr. Erdoğan—a prime minister whose view of the Kurds left little room for their agency—in Ankara. Weeks later, on April 9, Saddam Hussein—the Kurds’ longtime tormentor—was toppled in Baghdad.

The Iraqi Kurds celebrated the fall of their tyrant.

No such luck has greeted the Kurds of Turkey.

As mayor of Istanbul, Erdoğan earned a reputation for keeping Istanbul clean. As a national leader, however, he soon took on the airs of a dictator—and kept Turkish politics clean of Kurds asking for a seat at the table.

Good doctors make a point of learning from other good doctors. The same goes for dictators. In the West, popular culture has familiarized us with the slogans of strongmen.

Mussolini proclaimed: “Un popolo, uno Stato, un Duce.” Franco echoed him: “Un Estado, un País, un Jefe.” Hitler followed with: “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer.” Each preached the same creed: one people, one state, one leader.

Less often noted is that a Turkish version came earlier—born of Young Turk ideology and tested with deadly consequences on the Armenians: “Tek millet, tek vatan, tek devlet.” One nation, one homeland, one state.

Erdoğan has since expanded the formula. Across Turkey—and sometimes in the Kurdish east—he shouts: “One nation, one flag, one homeland, one state, one leader.”—a warning the Kurds cannot fail to hear.

If we stopped people on the streets of Reading and asked them about Mussolini, Franco, or Hitler, many would know what they did in Europe and some even in Ethiopia. Very few would know what Erdoğan is doing to the Kurds.

In December 2002, when Erdoğan visited the White House as a private citizen, he also traveled to the Kremlin as the guest of President Putin. In Washington, citizen Erdoğan held no press conference after meeting with President Bush. In Moscow, he did.

A Kurdish resident of Moscow was in the audience. Instead of asking a question, he appealed to Erdoğan to address Kurdish concerns and expressed the hope that he might bring an end to their long suffering.

It was a bit like Benjamin Franklin asking King George III to show a decent respect for the opinions of mankind. Erdoğan responded accordingly.

“There is no Kurdish question in Turkey. If you believe there is a question, only then is there a question. If you believe there isn’t a question, then there is no question. If we say there is a Kurdish question, we become part of the problem. For us, no such problem exists.”

By then the Kurdish rebellion against the Turkish state was eighteen years old. Some thirty-five thousand Kurds were dead; Turkish casualties stood at roughly six thousand.

Turkish officials rarely count Kurdish dead. Instead, they speak of “forty thousand victims,” a number in which Kurdish corpses quietly swell the tally of the Turkish dead. All the more striking, then, that Erdoğan showed little respect even for the Turkish dead.

That he said this in Russia—the country that produced one of the greatest readers of human character, Fyodor Dostoevsky—was telling… The Russian novelist knew a thing or two about lying and its corrosive effects on human life.

What the monastery’s elder tells the philandering Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov could, with equal candor, be said of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.

Tayyip, incidentally, means pure and virtuous in Turkish.

Here is what Elder Zosima tells Fyodor Karamazov:

“Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he no longer discerns any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect toward himself and others.

“Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to the passions and coarse pleasures in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality—and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself.”

On July 15, 2016, I was driving with a friend to Cleveland, Ohio, to attend the Republican National Convention. As we made our way along the highway, my Twitter feed suddenly came alive. Turkish army officers were attempting to assassinate the president and install a military dictatorship.

By midnight in Turkey, the coup had fizzled out. A triumphant Erdoğan took to the airwaves. Instead of promising to prosecute the would-be dictators with the full force of the law, he declared, “This is a blessing from God.”

More than a few have since suggested that he knew of the plot all along.

What those officers failed to do—establish a dictatorship—he did himself. He suspended the constitution and ruled by decree for the next two years. During that time, torture—after a brief holiday—returned to Turkey in full force.

Here is how Madeleine Albright, in her book Fascism: A Warning, summarized the purge that followed:

“140,000 government employees were suspended or fired, 16,000 military and police officers cashiered, 6,300 teachers purged, 2,500 journalists sacked, 1,000 businesses seized, 180 media outlets shut down, fifteen universities closed, and one out of every five judges forced to resign.”

Nations are the building blocks of the United Nations, and national politics is supposed to remain within the borders of nation-states. Yet Erdoğan’s ambitions, like his border-crossing soldiers, drones, and fighter planes, ignore those borders.

Integrity, I am happy to note, has begun to cross them as well.

If the history of the American Revolutionary era interests you, you will probably agree that its great chronicler, Gordon S. Wood, is second to none. If Turkey and its turbulent history interest you, the Dutch historian Erik-Jan Zürcher enjoys a similar distinction.

The Turkish government knew this and awarded him its Distinguished Service Award in 2005.

But in 2017, Mr. Zürcher made a remarkable gesture—he returned the award to the Turkish government. Having once supported Prime Minister Erdoğan’s bid for Turkey to join the European Union, he now urged Europe to keep both him and the Turkey he had helped reshape at arm’s length.

True friends of Turks and Kurds welcomed the gesture.

So what should someone like me do—blessed with the liberal education of your schools, endowed with a healthy body, and protected, as you are, in these United States?

What would you do if you were me? …

The easy course would be not to read the news, not to watch Erdoğan’s handiwork, not to care—and to hope that the dark clouds gathering over Kurdistan will one day pass, as they passed over the Soviet Union in 1991.

When the Soviet Union ran its course, fifteen republics declared their independence. Russia, unlike Serbia in Yugoslavia, largely allowed that separation—except in Chechnya, where the demand for independence was met with war.

The principle is simple: every people has the right to decide its own political destiny. The Chechens sought that right and paid dearly for it. The Kurds seek it still. Ukraine is fighting for it today.

For my part, to help bring about the dawn of freedom in Kurdistan—hopeless as it may sometimes seem—I feel compelled to do my part to leave behind a better world. And so I have resolved on a journey—an experiment.

A pilgrimage of love.

A quiet act of faith.

A journey inspired by the belief that love is stronger than hate—and that nonviolent resistance can bring about social change.

Dr. King lived by that faith. In his impromptu speech on the first day of the Montgomery Bus Boycott on December 5, 1955, the young pastor laid out a course for his people—and perhaps for us as well:

“When the history books are written in the future, somebody will have to say, ‘There lived a race of people, a Black people, a people who had the moral courage to stand up for their rights. And thereby they injected a new meaning into the veins of history and civilization.’”

They did.

One day, I hope, the history books will say the same of the Kurdish people: that they learned from the right teachers, that they never rejoiced in the death of their enemies, that they learned to hate the sin but not the sinner—and that by transforming themselves first, they helped transform the Middle East for the better.

They will.

So I invite you to join me on this long walk. The journey will begin at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial in Washington, DC, on March 21, 2026—a day that marks not only the Kurdish New Year but also the sixty-first anniversary of the Selma to Montgomery March.

I will be on the road for fifty-five days, walking 746 miles. With luck—and with your prayers—I will have a companion for every mile: 746 Americans, and fifty-five hosts along the way across four states. If all goes well, I will arrive on May 14, 2026, at the birthplace of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Atlanta.

Again, I want to thank you for making room for my musings this afternoon. But before I sit down, I must keep a promise. I owe you the story of a grinning Kurdish cow.

First, a bit of context.

You live in Jefferson’s America, protected by Madison’s Bill of Rights. You do not face checkpoints on your public highways the way we do when we travel from one city to the next.

Now imagine this: a bus ride in Kurdistan.

A Kurd who has been living in the West returns home to visit family in his town. He boards a public bus. Every ten miles or so, the bus is stopped. Soldiers climb aboard and begin checking identity cards.

The bus falls silent. Passengers reach for their identity cards.

The Kurd is sitting next to a Kurdish farmer. After a few checkpoints, he notices something curious: the farmer flashes his identity card the moment a soldier appears.

After a few more checkpoints, the Kurd turns to the farmer and says,

“Don’t let him think you accept this… Tire him out… Let him see that he is wrong…”

The farmer smiles and replies, “Do you know the story of the grinning cow?”

“A farmer takes his cow to the market to sell. Buyers come by and check the cow’s teeth to judge her age. Before long, the cow begins to grin whenever someone comes to check her teeth.”

The farmer pauses… …

“You see… this republic has made cows… …of us all.”

6 Haziran 2023 Salı günüydü. Şafak sökerken uyandım, bir bardak çay eşliğinde hızlı bir şeyler atıştırdım ve evimden yaklaşık on beş dakika uzaklıktaki Billy Goat Trail’de (keçiyolu) altı millik bir yürüyüş için evimden çıktım. Bunu geçen sonbahardan beri yapıyorum. DC’den Manhattan’a, yani Lincoln Anıtı’nın merdivenlerinden New York’taki Birleşmiş Milletler binasının girişine kadar yürüyeceğim.

Salı tıpkı diğer günler gibi olacaktı diye düşündüm. Öyle olmadı.

Keçiyolu, duş ve kahvaltıdan önce yürüyüş veya koşu ile güne erken başlamayı seven Washington tipi insanların uğrak yeridir. Tesadüf eseri, aynı yollarda aynı insanlarla karşılaştığınızda, birbirinizi fark etmeye başlarsınız ve ardından selamlaşırsınız ve sonunda, aynı mekanları birlikte paylaşan seyahatçilerin sıklıkla yaptığı gibi, birbirinizle konuşursunuz.

60’lı yaşlarında bir çiftle bu ritüelin bir parçası oldum. İlkin sessizce birbirimizi farkettik, ardından birbirimizi günaydınlar selamını verdik, o Salı günü de ilk sohbetimize başladık. İki saatlik yürüyüşümü bitiriyordum. Kendileri ise yeni başlıyorlardı ve arabalarının bagajından bir şey alıyorlardı. Beni görünce selamlaştık ve biri bana genç bir kızın fotoğrafını gösterdi ve onu tanıyormusun diye sordu.

Tabii ki hiçbir fikrim yoktu ve bunu yüzümde bir gülümsemeyle söyledim. Genç ve kaygısız bir kızın fotoğrafıydı.

“Genç ve sağlıklıydım,” dedi özlemle.

Onu bir jimnastikçi gibi Potomac Nehri kıyısındaki kayalıklara tırmanırken gördüğümü hatırlayarak, “Hala genç ve sağlıklısın,” diye karşılık verdim.

“Sağlıklı kısmına bile kefil olabilirim, çünkü seni yolda bir atlet gibi terlerken görmüşüm,” dedim.

Daha sonra kendimizi birbirimize tanıştırdık. Margaret onun adıydı. “Benim adım Nancy,” dedi diğer arkadaşı.

Margaret bana bakarak, “Sen de hep bu keçiyolunda yürüyorsun ve sağlığın da iyi,” dedi.

Sağlığım yerinde, doğru, ama beni sabah 4:30’da alarmımın sesiyle uyandıran sağlık endişem değil, şiddetsiz siyasete olan inancımdı. Onlara bir cevap vermem gerekiyordu ama ne diyecektim. Artık Margaret ve Nancy ile bir nevi asansör yolculuğuna çıkmıştım. Toplayabildiğim tüm netlik ve özlülükle onlara şunları söyledim:

“Aslında eğitimdeyim. DC’den Manhattan’a yürümeye hazırlanıyorum.

Nancy şaşırtıcı bir ses tonuyla araya girdi, “Ne için?”

“İnsan hakları için. Özgürlük için,” dedim. Devam ettim, “Yüz yıl önce Avrupalı büyük güçler ve onların Ortadoğu’daki versiyonları Kürdistan’ı, Kürtlerin yurdunu, yani halkımı, ikinçi defa, bölüştüler. İki yeni devlet, Fransız Suriyesi, İngiliz Irakı ve iki eski devlet, Türkiye ve İran’a tapu verildi. Bu devasa yanlışa dikkat çekmek için 330 mil yürüyeceğim. Birleşmiş Milletler’den Orta Doğu’daki 50 milyon vatansız Kürdün içinde bulunduğu bu zor durumu ele almak üzere bir Özel Temsilci atamasını, kendi tüzüğünü onurlandırmasını, istiyeceğim.”

Ağız dolusu oldu biliyorum ama Kürtlerin dayanılmaz yükünü kendileri ile paylaşırken kendimi iyi hissettim. Eski bir atasözü “Paylaşılan bir sorun yarım olur” der.

“Seni destekleyeceğim,” dedi Nancy. Ardından, “Yürüdüğünüz her mil için bir dolar” diye ekledi.

Onlara şimdiye kadarki en büyük gülümsememi verdim ve her biriyle birer kartımı paylaştım. Margaret aynısını tersten yaptı. Nancy bana ona Margaret aracılığıyla ulaşabilirim bakışını verdi. Sonra o gün için onlara veda ettim.

O gün yüzüme bir gülümseme eşlik etti. Margaret ve Nancy’yi ne zaman hatırlasam hala gülümserim. Onur ve özgürlük aşığıysanız, ki yürüyüşümüzün adıdır, aynısı size de olacaktır.

Eğitimim 1 Temmuz Cumartesi günü sona erecek. Amerika Birleşik Devletleri’nin kuruluş topraklarında yürüdükten sonra, Kürdistan’ı halkının rızası olmadan bölen Lozan Antlaşması’nın 100. yılı olan 24 Temmuz 2023 Pazartesi günü Manhattan’a varacağım.

Bu uluslararası komplo, Kürtleri zulüm dolu bir yaşama mahkûm etti. Uluslararası bir çaba onları baskıdan kurtarabilir. Yürüyüşüm, Kürt olan ve ülkeleri Kürdistan olan insanların doğal hakları için yapılan bir çağrıdır.

It was Tuesday, June 6, 2023. I woke up at the crack of dawn, had a quick snack with a cup of tea and darted out of my house for a six mile walk on the Billy Goat Trail about fifteen minutes from my house. I have been doing this since last fall—ever since I got this idea that I should walk from DC to Manhattan—from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to the entrance of the United Nations building in New York.

Tuesday, I thought, was going to be just like any other day—till it wasn’t.

The trail is frequented by Washington types, people who enjoy starting their days early with walks or runs before their showers and breakfasts. As it happens, when you run into the same people on the same roads, you start noticing each other and then greeting one another and finally talking to each other as travelers often do when they share the same spaces together.

I became part of this ritual with a couple in their 60s. Our initial silent acknowledgements, followed by good mornings, led to its first conversation on that memorable Tuesday. I was finishing my two-hour hike. They were just starting theirs and getting something out of their car’s trunk. Seeing me, they acknowledged me and one of them showed me a photo of a young girl and asked me if I could identify her?

I was, of course, clueless, and said so with a smile on my face. It turned out to be hers from her carefree days as a teenager.

“I was young and healthy,” she said wistfully.

“You are still young and healthy,” I rejoined, remembering that I had seen her climb the rocks along the Potomac River like a gymnast.

“I can even vouch for the healthy part,” I said, “because I have seen you sweating on the trail like an athlete.”

We then introduced ourselves to each other. Margaret was her name. “I am Nancy,” her friend volunteered.

Margaret, looking at me said, “You do a lot of sweating yourself and are in good health too.”

I am in good health all right, but it isn’t my concern for health that is making me wake up to the sound of my alarm clock at 4:30 in the mornings—it is my faith in nonviolent politics. Now that I had my elevator-ride moment with Margaret and Nancy, what was I going to tell them about my relentless training that had gotten their attention because of its repetition on their path? With all the clarity and conciseness that I could muster, I told them the following:

“I am actually in training. I am getting ready to walk from DC to Manhattan.”

Nancy interposed with a startling tone, “What for?”

“For human rights. For freedom,” I said. I continued, “One hundred years ago, the European great powers and their Middle Eastern versions in Western Asia partitioned Kurdistan, the land of the Kurds, my people. Two new states, French Syria, English Iraq and two old states, Turkey and Iran were given the title deed. I am walking 330 miles to draw attention to this colossal wrong. I am asking the United Nations to honor its charter by appointing a Special Representative to address the plight of 50 million stateless Kurds in the Middle East.”

It was a mouthful, I know, but I felt good unloading the unbearable Kurdish burden. “A problem shared becomes half,” goes the old adage.

“I will support you,” Nancy said while giving me an emphatic look and glancing at Margaret at the same time. She then added, “A dollar for every mile that you walk.”

I flashed them my biggest smile ever and gave each a card from the cardholder of my phone. Margaret did the same in reverse. Nancy gave me the look of I can reach her via Margaret. I then bid them farewell for the day.

A smile accompanied my face all day that day. I still smile whenever I remember Margaret and Nancy. If you are a lover of dignity and liberty—the name of my walk, the same is bound to happen to you as well.

My training will come to an end on Friday, June 30^th. On Saturday, July 1^st, I will be visiting the Lincoln Memorial at 10:00 AM and start walking across the founding heartland of America to reach Manhattan on Monday, July 24^th, 2023. The date will mark the centenary of the Treaty of Lausanne—the international agreement that sanctioned the dismemberment of Kurdistan.

An international conspiracy condemned the Kurds to a life of subjugation. An international effort guided with the better angels of our nature can free them from it. My walk is a call for the right of a people to call themselves, Kurds, and their homeland, Kurdistan.

1 Temmuz—24 Temmuz, 2023

Asırlık Bir Yanlışı Düzeltmek

Yüz yıl önce “barış” adı altında Kürt halkına karşı büyük bir haksızlık yapıldı. Birinci Dünya Savaşı’ndan beş yıl sonra, 24 Temmuz 1923’te, Avrupa’nın büyük güçleri—Polonya’yı uluslar topluluğuna davet ederken—Kürdistan’ı, sakinlerinin rızası olmadan, işgal altındaki dört bölgesini kalıcı kabul ederek, fiilen ortadan kaldırdılar. İki yeni devlet, İngiliz Irak’ı ile Fransız Suriye’si ve iki eski devlet, Türkiye ve İran, Kürt yurdunun egemenleri olarak ilan edildiler. O zamandan beri, Kürtlerin durumu sadece kötüleşme bazında bir ilerleme kaydetmiştir.

Avrupalı güçler eserlerine Lozan Antlaşması adını verdiler ve bunun “yeni” Ortadoğu’ya barış getireceğini söylediler. Oysa barış asla gelmedi. Onun yerine, Kürtler, yeni yöneticileri tarafından, ikinci sınıf vatandaşlığa tabi tutuldular ya da potansiyel suçlu muamelesi gördüler.

Bugün, 100 yıl sonra, 50 milyon Kürt hala vatansız.

Türkiye’de yasal kovuşturmalara maruz kalıyorlar. İran’da şiddet ve idamla yüz yüzeler. Irak’ta fareler gibi gaza maruz bırakıldılar ve Suriye’de değişen vatandaşlık yasalarına tabi tutuldular.

Kürtlerin karşı karşıya olduğu bu 100 yıllık krize ışık tutmak için, 1 Temmuz’dan itibaren, Washington DC’den (Lincoln Anıtından) New York City’ye (Birleşmiş Milletler Genel Merkezine) yürüyeceğim. Yol boyu bize katılan arkadaşlarımız ve çevrimiçi bize destek sunan dostlarımız ile Amerika’nın kendi özgürlük deneyimini saygıyla anarken Orta Doğu’da sivil söylem ve karşılıklı hoşgörü arayışımızı her fırsatta vurgulayıp Birleşmiş Milletleri Kürt sorununun çözümü için bir Özel Temsilci ataması çağrısında bulunacağız.

Sivil söylem ve karşılıklı hoşgörü aynı zamanda Dr. King ve Gandi’nin uğruna öldükleri değerlerdi. Manhattan’a yapacağımız yürüyüşte bu insanlık dostlarının ilkelerine—herkesi kabul et, herkese saygı göster—bağlılığımızı sergilerken Kürt halkının da bu değerler ailesine dahil olduğunu ama kabul edilmediğini belirtmek isteriz.

Birleşmiş Milletler Genel Sekreteri António Guterres’ten Ortadoğu’daki Kürtlerin haklarını ele almak üzere bir Özel Temsilci atamasını istemek için temsilcilerinizi arayarak, e-posta göndererek veya tweet atarak bize destek sunabilirsiniz.

Orta Doğu’da onur ve özgürlük bayrağını birlikte dalgalandıralım!

Birleşmiş Milletler’de bir Özel Temsilci atanması için seçilmiş temsilcilerinizi teşvik edin

(ABD dışında yaşıyorsanız, temsilcilerinizi de aynısını yapmaya teşvik ederek kampanyamızın bir parçası olabilirsiniz.)

Yürüyüşümüzü destekleyin

Aileniz ve arkadaşlarınızla paylaşın

1 Tîrmeh – 24 Tîrmeh, 2023

Rastkirina Şaşiyeke Sed Salî!

Sed sal berê, li hember gelê kurd şaşiyeke mezin bi navê “aşitiyê” hat kirin. Pênc sal piştî Şerê Cîhanî yê Yekem, di 24ê Tîrmeha 1923an de, hêzên mezin ên Ewrûpayê serbixwebûna Kurdistanê ji holê ra kirin – di demekê de bixêrînana Polandê ji bo nav koma neteweyan kir – ew şaşî jî bi naskirina nexşeya çar navçeyên dagîrkirî wekî nexşeyeke hemîşeyî pêk hat. Du dewletên nû; Iraqa Îngilizî û Sûriya Fransî, û mîratgirên du dewletên kevn; Tirkiye û Îran, wekî serdestên welatê Kurdan hatin damezrandin. Ji wê demê û şûn ve, rewşa Kurdan her roj xirabtir dibe.

Kesên ku destnivîsek bi navê “Peymana Lozanê” îmza kir. Wekî ew ragihand; hêviya wan ew bû ku ev peyman aşitiyê ji bo Rojhilata Navîn a “nû” bîne. Lê tu carî ew hêvî ronahî nedît. Li şûna wê, Kurd li welatê xwe rastê astengiyan hatin û heta niha jî wekî hemwelatiyên asta duyem û sûcdaran tên dîtin.

Îro, piştî 100 salan, hê 50 milyon Kurd bê welat in.

Li Tirkiyeyê, Kurd ji ber “qanûnên tirkan” rastî sizadanê tên. Li Îranê, bi lêdan û darvekirinê re rû bi rû ne. Li İraqê, bi çekên kîmiyayî yên qedexekirî tên kuştin. Li Sûriyê jî, dewleta navendiya Sûriyê gelek ji Kurdan ji mafê welatîbûnê mehrûm kirine.

Ji bo ku rewşa Kurdan baştir bê dîtin, di destpêka 1ê Tîrmehê de, ez ji Washington, DCyê ber bi bajarê New Yorkê dimeşim û di nav navenda damezrîner a Welatên Yekbûyî yên Amerîkayê re derbas dibim. Armanc jî destnîşankirina nûnereke taybet e ji bo çareserkirina pirsa sed salî ya Kurdan. Di rê de, bi alîkariya hevalên ku bi min re dimeşin û yên online ku ji me re serkeftinê dixwazin, em ê rêzê li ceribandina azadiyê li Amerîkayê bigrin. Her wiha em lêgerîna xwe ya ji bo hewildanên medenî û toleransa hevbeş li Rojhilata Navîn berdewam bikin.

Hewildanên medenî û toleransa hevbeş armanca mirovên mîna Dr. King û Gandî jî bûn. Li meşa me ji bo Manhattanê, em bi hûrmet ve rêya wan ji bo dinyayeke baştir digirin û em li benda ewêne ku rêz û hûrmet ji bo hemû mirovan be, Kurd jî di nav de.

Bi rêkên telefon, e-mail an jî tweetan li nûnerên xwe bixwazin ku tevlî me bibin û ji Sekreterê Giştî yê Neteweyên Yekbûyî António Guterres daxwaz bikin ku Nûnerên Taybet ji bo çareserkirina Pirsa Kurdan li Rojhilata Navîn bê destîşankirin.

Ala rûmet û azadiyê li seranserê Rojhilata Navîn bilind bikin!

Ji nûnerên xwe yên hilbijartî bixwazin ku destek bidin ji bo destnîşankirina nûnerekî taybet bi Kurdan li Neteweyên Yekbûyî

(Eger hûn li derveyî Dewlet ên Yekbûyî yên Amerîkayê dijîn, ji kerema xwe peywendiyê bi nûnerên xwe re bikin da ku alîkar bin.)

Piştgiriya meşa me bikin

Bi malbat û hevalên xwe re parve bikin

1893 yılında Rusya’dan bir grup Ermeni üniversite öğrencisi Leo Tolstoy’u evinde ziyaret etti. Osmanlı Ermenistan’ındaki Ermeni yurttaşlarının durumu hakkında onunla görüşmek istediler. Akıllarında yurttaşlarının özgürlüğü vardı. Dünyaca ünlü yazar Ermenilerin özgürlük mücadelesini destekleyecek miydi?

Desteklemedi.

Sohbetleri sırasında konu Kürtlere de geldi. Öğrenciler Kürtleri “barbarlar” olarak niteledi. Türkler de—Kürtlerin dindaşları—aynı derecede gaddardı. Öğrencilere göre Ermenilerin komşularıyla aralarına sağlıklı bir mesafe koymaları gerekiyordu.

Tolstoy her nedense ikna olmuyordu.

Tolstoy’un öğrencilerle tanışmasının üzerinden 130 yıl geçmiş. Kürtler, Türkler ve Ermeniler merak ettiğiniz konular ise, bu dikkate değer tartışmayı sizin de okumanızı tavsiye ederim. Özet olmasına rağmen, entelektüel sohbet insana Platon’un meşhur diyaloglarını anımsatıyor. Bugünlerde düşünce kuruluşlarımızda düzenli olarak yapılan tartışmaların çoğunu gölgede bırakıyor.

Tolstoy 2023 yılında dünyada ahlaki bir devrimin öncüsü olmasından ziyade gerçekçi romanlarıyla tanınıyor. Kendisi hayatını 1881 öncesi ve sonrası olarak iki bölüme ayırır. 1881’den önce, 53 yıl boyunca kendisi, ailesi ve romanları için yaşar. 1881’den sonra 29 yıl boyunca, vejetaryen olup hayvanlar da dahil, hayatını başkalarının mutluluğuna adar.

Sohbet sırasında Ermeni öğrenciler, Tolstoy’un kendi davalarına mesafeli durduğunu hissedince, Yunanlıların bağımsızlık mücadelesini gündeme getirirler. Yunanlıların kendilerini Türk emperyalizminden—biraz da Avrupalı büyük güçlerin desteğiyle—özgürleştirdiklerini ifade ederler ve Tolstoy’a Ermeniler de neden aynı özgürlük kervanına katılmasınlar diye sorarlar.

Tolstoy özgürlükten yanadır ama öğrencilerin davalarını “abarttıklarını” düşünür. Öğrencilere, “Zengin Ermeniler fakir Ermenileri sömürmüyor mu?” sorusunu yöneltir. “Muhtemelen Türklerin ve Kürtlerin fakir Ermenilere yaptıkları, zengin Ermenilerin fakir Ermenilere yaptıklarından daha farklı değildir,” düşüncesini onlarla paylaşır.

Daha sonra öğrencilere sorduğu soruyu kendisi cevaplar: bağımsız Ermenistan’da zengin Ermenilerin fakir Ermenilere baskısı devam eder. Aynı baskının, sözde özgür Rus ve Fransız hükümetleri altında yaşayan fakir Rus ve Fransızlara yapıldığını da ekler.

Başka bir öğrenci, Ermenilerin sadece Türklerden kurtulmak istemediğini, aynı zamanda yoksulluğu sona erdirecek ve insanın insan tarafından sömürülmesini durduracak sosyalist bir cennet kurmak istediklerini dile getirir.

Tolstoy, “Ah, bu konuda konuşmayın,” diye araya girer. “Gülmeden konuşamayacağım!” diye ekler. “Şu anda azınlığın elinde bulunan servetin, elbette bazı zayıflıkları olan sıradan insanlar tarafından yönetilmesi gerekecek,” diyerek devam eder.

Sosyalistler “melekleri davet edip, onları servetin dağıtılmasından sorumlu tutacaklar, değil mi?” diye bir de soru sorar.

Öğrencilerin Tolstoy’un hayali melekleri hakkında ne düşündüklerini bilmiyoruz ama sosyalistlerin 24 yıl sonra, 1917’de Rusya’da neler yaptıklarını biliyoruz. Rus Devrimi, Tolstoy’un öngördüğü ve George Orwell’in daha sonra hicvedeceği gibi, “bazı hayvanların” “diğerlerinden daha eşit” olduğunu gösterdi. Lenin ve Stalin gibi “zayıflıkları” olan insanlar, “sözde” insanın insan tarafından sömürülmesine son verdiler, ancak kendileri ve seçkin yandaşları için devletin zenginliklerini ellerinde tuttular.

Peki Türklerden kurtuluş, Yunanlıların yaptığı gibi, Ermenilerin Ermeniler tarafından sömürülmesine son vermeyecekse ve dönemin devrimcilerinin öngördüğü gibi sosyalizm bir sistem olarak eskisinden daha kötü yeni egemen sınıflar yaratacaksa, Tolstoy’un Ermeni öğrenciler için—ya da bugünlerde aynı sorunlarla uğraşan Kürt öğrenciler için—alternatifi neydi?

Alternatif, “insanın insan tarafından sevilmesiydi.”

Tolstoy’un Dağdaki Vaaz üzerine çalışması onu ellili yaşlarında bir aktiviste dönüştürmüştü ve konuklarına nazikçe “lütfen ‘Hıristiyanlık’ kelimesinden korkmayın” diye bir hatırlatmada bulundu. Onun inandığı Hıristiyanlık akıl üzerine kuruluydu—hem Teslis’i hem de Efkaristiya’yı reddediyordu.

Belki de öğrencilerin yönlendirilmeye ihtiyacı olduğunu hissederek şöyle devam etti: “Özgürlük mücadelesini vaaz eden vatanseverler tüm enerjilerini bu yola yönlendirirlerse bence çok daha iyi ve yararlı olurlar. Daha da ileri gideceğim ve bu yolu izlemenin şart olduğunu söyleyeceğim.”

Tolstoy ne Türklere ne de onların dini olan İslam’a yabancı değildi. Gençliğinde Volga-Ural bölgesinde Türki bir halk olan Tatarların dilini öğrenmişti. Yirmili yaşlarında Çar’ın ordusunda asker olarak Çeçenler, Çerkezler, Osmanlılar, İngilizler ve Fransızlarla da savaşmıştı. Hacı Murat adlı romanı, Müslüman bir savaşçının Ruslara karşı direnişini ele alıyordu.

Aynı Volga-Ural bölgesinde Rus yazarın yolu sosyalistlerin öncüsü Lenin ile 1891 yılında kesişecektir. O yıl o bölgede bir de kıtlık baş gösterir. Devrim için her yolun mübah olduğunu söyleyen Lenin, yerlilerin açlıktan ölmesini olumlu bir gelişme olarak karşılar ve olayın köylülüğü çökerteceğini ve “sanayi proletaryasının [s 318]” büyümesine katkıda bulunacağı tezini savunur.

Öte yandan Tolstoy kollarını sıvar ve Batı’dan gelen hayırseverlerin de yardımıyla açlıktan ölmek üzere olan binlerce köylünün hayatını kurtarır. “Temmuz 1892’ye gelindiğinde, günde 13 bin kişiyi besleyen 246 mutfak ve günde 3 bin kişiyi besleyen 124 özel çocuk mutfağı kurar. [s 444]”

Bu kadar iyi niyete rağmen, Ermeni öğrenciler Tolstoy ile bağlantı kurmakta zorlanıyorlardı.

İçlerinden biri Tolstoy’un “polyannacı” görüşlerine itiraz etti ve araya bir “ama” koyarak şöyle devam etti: “Böyle bir insani öğreti [insanın insanı sevmesi] ancak normal yaşam koşullarında ve … medeni insanlar arasında mümkündür.” Ardından, “Kürtler gibi barbarlar arasında…” diyerek manalı bir suskunluğa büründü.

Hacı Murat’ın yazarı ise onun için hazırdı. “Müsaade edin,” diye araya girdi, “Kürtler de sizin ve benim gibi insan değil mi? Ve bizim onları öldürmeye hakkımız var mı? Neden onların bu çağrıyı [insanın insanı sevmesini] anlamayacağını ve buna değer vermeyeceğini düşünüyorsunuz?”

Tolstoy devam etti, “İnanın bana, bunu birçok bürokrattan çok daha iyi anlayacaklardır—örneğin, Polis Şefimiz Vlasovski’den! Şahsen ben Vlasovski’den çok bir Kürt’e merhameti vaaz etmeyi tercih ederim.”

Sözlerini şöyle bitirdi: “Tekrar ediyorum, Ermeni vatanseverliği de diğerleri gibi paganizmdir ve düşünen herkesin buna karşı mücadele etmesi gerekir.”

Ne yazık ki devir paganizm devriydi. Onun şiddetli bir biçimi olan milliyetçilik ise gelecek yüzyılda dünyayı kasıp kavuracaktı. Albert Einstein’ın milliyetçiliğin “insanlığın kızamığı” ya da George Orwell’in “modern hastalık” olduğu yönündeki uyarılarına rağmen, milliyetçilik hala dünyada tükenmiş bir güç değildir.

Burada şöyle bir soru sormak gerekiyor: Ermeni öğrenciler insanın insan tarafından sömürülmesine son vermek istediyse, Tolstoy’un “insanın insan tarafından sevilmesi” mesajını Kürtlere iletmeyi ve böylece onları Aydınlanma Çağı’na davet etmeyi neden kendilerine yakıştıramadılar?

Her iki fikir de (insanın insan tarafından sömürülmesine son vermek ya da insanın insan tarafından sevilmesini sağlamak) yeryüzünde cennet vaat ediyordu. Üniversite öğrencilerinin alternatif ya da tamamlayıcı fikirlere açık olması gerekmez miydi?

Bir başka soru: Hangisi daha önce gelmeli; özgürlük mü, sevgi mi? Öğrenciler özgürlüğü seçtiler; Tolstoy ise sevgiyi. Osmanlı-Ermenistan’ındaki Ermenilerin temsilcileri ise, en azından bir Türk tarihçiye göre, bizzat Osmanlı İmparatorluğu içinde “topraksız bir özerklik” [s 60] istediklerini biliyoruz.

Ancak sultanları İkinci Abdülhamit, Osmanlı yurttaşı olan her Ermeni’de Tolstoy’la sohbet eden öğrenci gibi bir ayrılıkçı görüyordu. Onları susturmaya çalıştı ve 1894’ten 1924’e kadar Osmanlı İmparatorluğu içinde bulunan Ermenilerin sonunu getirmeye çalışan bir olaylar zincirini harekete geçirdi. O an orada olmayan ama aynı sorunlar ile uğraşan ve daha sonra Tolstoy ile doğrudan mektuplaşacak olan bir diğer kişi de Gandi’ydi. O sırada Güney Afrika’daydı ve Hint göçmenlerinin haklarını bir avukat olarak korumakla görevlendirilmişti. Ermeni öğrencilerin aksine, bir Hindu olmasına rağmen, Tolstoy’un mesajına kulak verdi ve özgürlüğe kavuşmak için sevgi yolunu denedi.

“Öldür ya da öldürül” şeklindeki eski kavram, kitlesel ölçekte yeni bir aktör ile, “insanın insana sevgisi” ile tanışacaktı. Bunun sonuçları ise artık tarihsel bir bilgidir. Güney Afrika’da Hintli göçmenlerin hakları, beyazlarınkinden daha az olsa da güvence altına alındı. Büyük Britanya, Hint alt kıtası üzerinde yüzyıllar süren hakimiyetine barışçıl bir şekilde son verdi. Amerika, Dr. King, Gandi ve Tolstoy sayesinde daha hümanist bir ülke haline geldi.

Orta Doğu’nun aynı hümanizme ihtiyacı var. Bazı Kürtler hala Lenin ve yandaşlarından ilham alıyor. Onun yerine Tolstoy’u koyabilirler mi? Bu mümkün mü? Tarih pek de umut vermiyor. Sovyetler Birliği’nde Leninistler kalıcı olarak emekli olmadan önce iflasın kapılarını çalmasını beklediler. Kürdistan’da da aynı hesaplaşma günleri o kadar uzak olamaz.

Tolstoy bugün bir grup Kürt öğrenci tarafından ziyaret edilseydi ne derdi? Kürt meselesi hakkında bildiklerimizi bilseydi; kitaplarını ve öğrencisi Mahatma Gandi’nin kitaplarını okumama dayanarak aşağıdaki noktaları belirteceğine inanıyorum:

1-) Özgürlük içkindir, aşkın değil. Yani toprakla alakası yoktur. Özgür Kürtler olarak Kürdistan’ı özgürleştirmek isteyebilirsiniz, ancak kendiniz özgür olmadan Kürdistan’ı özgürleştiremezsiniz. Eğer tuğladan bir ev inşa etmek istiyorsanız, pişmiş tuğlaya ihtiyacınız vardır. Pişmemiş tuğlalarla ancak geçici bir tuzak, başarısız bir devlet inşa edebilirsiniz.

2-) Eşitliğe giden yol sevgiden geçer. Birini sevdiğinizde, onu kendi konumunuzdan daha aşağı bir yere koymazsınız; karşınızda konumlandırırsınız. Ona eşit muamelede bulunursunuz—çoğu zaman daha iyi davranırsınız. İnsan gelişiminin uzun tarihinde, sosyal (ve bilgiye değer veren) insan her zaman için şiddete meyilli insanın üstesinden gelmiştir. Şiddet içermeyen direniş savaştan daha iyidir.

3-) Kuzey Kürdistan’da Türk devletine karşı savaşta 50 bin Kürt öldü. Güney Kürdistan’da bu sayı genellikle beşle çarpılır. Milliyetçilik denen bir virüs Avrupa’dan bölgeye bulaştı. Hasta bir insanı AK-47 ile tedavi edemezsiniz. Örneğin 300.000 ölü Kürt, öğretmen olarak Orta Doğu’nun kaderini değiştirebilirdi. Dünyaya yön vermek için bir öğretmen, Sokrates, yetti.

4-) Kürtlerin emperyalist bir geçmişi yok. Ayrıca, göreceli olarak, ellerine daha az kan bulaşmış. Türkçe, Arapça ve Farsçayı tüm komşularının toplamından daha iyi biliyorlar. Bu, kullanılmayı bekleyen bir sosyal sermayedir. Düşünün, eğer Kürtler şöyle bir ilke öncülük yaparsa: Ben tamamen eski yaraları iyileştirmekten yanayım; ben asla yeni mezarları kazmaktan yana değilim!

5-) Kürtler, yukarı Ortadoğu’yu Türkler, Araplar ve Farslarla paylaşıyor. Özgür olmayan Kürtler, özgür Türkler, özgür Araplar veya özgür Farslar anlamına gelmiyor. Will Durant’ın belirttiği gibi, gerçek özgürlük ancak “karşılıklı hoşgörü” ile gelir. Birinin bu uluslar hapishanesinin kilidine bir anahtar bulması gerekiyor. Belki Kürtler bu anahtarın sahibidir. Herkes dünyayı değiştirmeyi düşünür ama kimse kendisini değiştirmeyi düşünmez. Her Kürt kendisi ile başlarsa daha iyi eder.

O unutulmaz günde Tolstoy’un evinde servis edilen tek yemek siyaset değildi elbette; edebiyat ikincisiydi.

Tolstoy ziyaretçilerinden birine üniversitede ne okuduğunu sordu. O da “Batı edebiyatı” deyince Tolstoy şöyle cevap verdi: “Mükemmel, Batı edebiyatı çok zengin… İnsan sadece vita brevis, ars longa [hayat kısa, mükemmellik zaman alır] diye hayıflanıyor. İyi, ilginç ve ruha iyi gelen o kadar çok şey var ki, insanın hepsini okumaya vakti yok.”

Burada önceki konuya nazaran herhangi bir anlaşmazlık yoktu. Öğrencilerden biri Tolstoy’un yakın zamanda Guy de Maupassant’ın bazı eserlerinin Rusya’da çevrilmesiyle olan alakasını gündeme getirdi ve geri kalanlar üzerinde çalışıp çalışmayacağını sordu.

“Evet… Bana göre Victor Hugo’dan sonra Maupassant çağımızın en iyi yazarıdır. Onu çok severim ve tüm çağdaşlarından üstün tutarım. Eserlerinin yakında çıkacak yeni baskısı için bir önsöz yazdım.”

Aynı öğrenci tekrar sordu, “ama bazı insanlar adınızın Maupassant’ın eserlerinin popülerleşmesiyle herhangi bir şekilde bağlantılı olmasına oldukça şaşırdı… Bu tür temaları seçen bir yazara sempati duymayacağınız düşünülüyordu…”

“Maupassant’a doğru bir bakış açısıyla bakmak gerekir,” diye cevap verdi Tolstoy. “İlk başta yanlış yaptığı doğrudur… Ama daha sonra hatasını anladı ve adeta yeniden doğdu.”

Tolstoy daha sonra öğrenciye bir soru sordu. “Bir denizcinin kötü şöhretli bir evde kendi kız kardeşiyle karşılaşmasını anlattığı öyküyü hatırlıyor musun [Bir Denizci ve Kız Kardeşi]? Bu hikâye insanı nasıl da düşündürüyor! İnsanın ruhunda ne kadar derin bir iz bırakıyor! Bu tür hikayeler ile, yazar bizi hangi bataklığa sürüklerse sürüklesin, okuyucuda kesinlikle ahlaksızlığa karşı bir sevgi ya da ilgi uyandıramaz.”

Öğrencilerin ayrılma vakti gelmişti. Rus yazarın onlar için veda sözleri şöyleydi: “…Maupassant’ı mutlaka yeniden okuyun! Onda dikkate değer ve son derece öğretici çok şey bulacaksınız.”

Öğrencilerin Tolstoy ile buluşmasından bir yıl sonra Osmanlı Ermenistan’ı, öğrencilerin dilediği gibi özgür Yunanistan örneğini izleyemedi. Osmanlı hükümeti ve onların Hamidiye Alayları’ndaki Kürt işbirlikçileri için bir ölüm tarlası haline geldi.

Benny Morris ve Dror Ze’evi’ye göre, “1894’ün başlarında toplu katliam havadaydı[s 72] ve 1896’nın ortalarında en az 100.000 Ermeni, Türkler ve Kürtler tarafından birbiri ardına korkunç katliamlarda vurularak, bıçaklanarak ve baltayla öldürülmüş olarak yerde yatacaktı.”

1915 yılında, dokuz yıl sürecek bir başka şiddet olayında, ölen Ermenilerin sayısı bir milyonu aşacaktı[s 636].

Bu dehşet verici yıllarda başka bir şey daha oluyordu. Türkler, bazen de Kürtler, mahkûm edilen Ermeniler arasından güzel kadınları eş olarak seçiyorlardı. Belki bir gün bir Türk Maupassant, “Bir Denizci ve Kız Kardeşi” gibi “Bir Türk ve Annesi” adlı bir roman yazar.

Belki o roman Türkleri ve Kürtleri ihtiyacımız olan yeni bir düşünce yoluna koyar. Belki dedelerimizin hayatta kalan Ermenilerin ruhunda bıraktığı derin yaralar gibi bizim ruhumuzda da derin izler bırakır. Belki Almanların hayatta kalan Yahudilerle alçakgönüllülük ve dürüstlükle yüzleştiği gibi bizler de Ermeniler ile nihayet, sağduyulu insanlara yaraşır bir şekilde yüzleşebiliriz.

Bu gerçekleştiğinde, belki de İslam dinini paylaşan Türkler ve Kürtler barış masasının etrafında daha kolay toplanabilir. Aslında bu Müslümanlığın bir gereğidir: Kur‘an 49:13, “Ey insanlar, gerçekten, biz sizi bir erkek ve bir dişiden yarattık ve birbirinizle tanışmanız için sizi halklar ve kabileler kıldık. …” der.

Bu olmadığında, Kürtler yönlerini Tolstoy, Gandi ve Dr. King’e vermeli. Bu insanlık abideleri Güney Afrika’da, Hindistan’da ve Amerika’da özgürlüğe giden yolun sevgiden de geçebileceğini ispatladılar. Aynısını Kürtler Ortadoğu’da denemeli. Vergilius haklı, “Sevgi her şeyi fetheder.” Eşitlik ve özgürlük getiren tek fetih sevgidir.

İngilizceden çeviren: Kubra Sagir

Kani Xulam @AKINinfo Bu makalenin orijinali CounterPunch.org web sitesinde de yayınlandı.

In 1893, a group of Armenian university students visited Leo Tolstoy at his home. They wanted to talk to him about the plight of their Armenian compatriots in Ottoman-Armenia. Their emancipation was on their mind. Would the world-renowned author support their struggle for freedom?

He didn’t.

During their conversation, the Kurds also came up. The students described them as “barbarians”. The Turks, the coreligionists of Kurds, were equally unsavory. The Armenians, they argued, needed to put a healthy distance between themselves and their neighbors.

Tolstoy wasn’t moved.

It’s been 130 years since Tolstoy met the students. If Kurds, Turks and Armenians are subjects of your curiosity, I highly recommend the remarkable give and take. Although condensed, the intellectual bantering brings to mind Plato’s famous dialogs. It leaves in the shade many of the discussions that regularly take place in our think tanks these days.

Tolstoy in 2023 is better known for his realistic novels than his later preoccupation to ignite a moral revolution in the world. He himself divided his life into two parts—pre and post 1881. Before 1881, for 53 years, he had lived for himself, his family, and his novels. After 1881, for 29 years, he lived for all—including the animals by becoming a vegetarian.

The Armenian students, noting Tolstoy’s indifference towards their cause, brought up the case of the Greeks. They had freed themselves from their Turkish oppressors—with some help from the great powers of Europe. Couldn’t the Armenians, they put forth, jump on the same bandwagon?

To be sure, Tolstoy was for freedom, but thought the students were “exaggerating” their case. Weren’t the “wealthy” Armenians, he asked his guests, exploiting their fellow Armenians? It was probably no worse than what the Turks and Kurds were doing to them, he told them.

He then elaborated on his own question: in the liberated Armenia, the oppression of the poor Armenians by the rich Armenians would continue. The same, he added, is happening to the poor Russians and French under the supposedly free Russian and French governments.

A student then made a comment that the Armenians didn’t just want to free themselves from the Turks, but also wanted to establish a socialist paradise that would end poverty and stop the exploitation of man by man.

“Oh, don’t talk about that,” Tolstoy interjected. He added, “I can’t speak of it without laughing!” He went on, “The wealth now held by the minority will have to be administered by someone, who will, of course, be an ordinary human being with certain weaknesses and defects.”

He then voiced a question of his own: the socialists “aren’t going to invite the angels to come and attend to the distribution of wealth, are they?”

We don’t know what the students thought of Tolstoy’s angels, but we do know what the socialists did in Russia 24 years later in 1917. The Russian Revolution, as Tolstoy had predicted, and as George Orwell would later satirize it, showed “some animals” were “more equal than others.” Men with “weaknesses and defects,” such as Lenin and Stalin, ended, “supposedly,” the exploitation of man by man, but kept a tight rein on the wealth of the state for themselves and their select cronies.

So, if liberation from the Turks, the way Greeks had done it, would not end the exploitation of Armenians by the Armenians and socialism as envisioned by the revolutionaries of the time, as a system, would create new ruling classes worse than the old ones, what then was Tolstoy’s alternative for the Armenian students—or the Kurdish ones who may be grappling with the same issues these days?

The alternative was “the love of man by man.”

Tolstoy’s study of the Sermon on the Mounthad transformed him into an activist in his fifties and he gently chided his guests, “please don’t be frightened at the word ‘Christianity.’” The Christianity that he believed in was founded on reason—he rejected both the Trinity and the Eucharist.

Perhaps sensing that the students needed some direction, he continued, “If all the energy of the patriots who preach the struggle for emancipation were directed into that path, it would in my opinion be far better and more useful. I will go even further and say that it is essential to follow that course.”

Tolstoy was no stranger either to the Turks or to their religion, Islam. He had learned the language of Tatars, a Turkic people, in the Volga-Ural region in his youth. As a soldier in the tsar’s army, he had also fought the Chechens, Circassians, Ottomans, Britons, and the French in his twenties. His novella, Hadji Murat, takes up the resistance of a Muslim fighter against the Russians.

In fact, he and Lenin (a better-known Russian to Kurdish students who think of emancipating the Kurds) would cross paths in the same Volga-Ural region during the Russian famine of 1891. Lenin, apparently, “welcome[d]” the starvation of the Bashkirs and thought it would break down the peasantry and contribute to the growth of “industrial proletariat [p 318].”

Tolstoy, on the other hand, rolled up his sleeves and with the help of philanthropists from the West set out to save lives. “By July 1892, he had set up two hundred and forty-six kitchens, feeding thirteen thousand people daily, and a hundred and twenty-four special children’s kitchens, feeding three thousand daily [p 444].”

Notwithstanding this self-evident goodwill of Tolstoy towards all, the Armenian students were having a hard time connecting with him.

One of them took an exception to Tolstoy’s “pollyannish” views and interposed with a “but” and continued, “such humanitarian teaching [the love of man by man] is only possible under normal conditions of life, and among … civilized people.” He then declared, one suspects after an affected pause, “Among barbarians such as the Kurds…” The author of Hadji Murat was ready for him. “Allow me,” he interrupted, “is not a Kurd a man like you and me? And have we any right to kill him? Why do you suppose he will not understand this [the love of man by man] appeal and will not value it?”

Tolstoy went on, “Believe me, he will understand it a great deal better than some bureaucrat or other—say, for instance, our Chief of Police, Vlasovski! Personally, I would sooner undertake to preach compassion to a Kurd than to Vlasovski.”

He ended by saying, “I repeat that Armenian patriotism, like every other, is paganism, against which all thinking people must struggle.”

Alas, paganism was in the air. Its predatory form, nationalism, would cause havoc in the world in the next century. It is still not a spent force notwithstanding Albert Einstein’s admonition that nationalism is “the measles of mankind,” or George Orwell’s that it is “the great modern disease.”

A question is in order: If the Armenian students wanted to end the exploitation of man by man, why was it beneath them to practice Tolstoy’s message, “the love of man by man,” on Kurds—while also educating them, and thereby welcoming them into the Age of Enlightenment?

Both ideas (ending the exploitation of man by man or kindling the love of man by man) promise paradise on earth. Shouldn’t the university students be open to alternative or complimentary ideas?

Another question: what is a greater good—freedom or love? The students opted for freedom. Tolstoy urged them to consider love. The Armenians of Ottoman-Armenia themselves, according to a Turkish historian at least, were trying to secure a “landless autonomy” [p 60] within the Turkish Empire itself.

But their sultan, Abdul Hamit II, saw in every Armenian a potential student that was conversing with Tolstoy. He proceeded to silence them and put in motion a chain of events that sought their extirpation as a distinct group within the Ottoman Empire from 1894 to 1924.

One man who was not present at Tolstoy’s house, but was grappling with the same issue, and later would correspond with Tolstoy directly, was Mahatma Gandhi. He was in South Africa at the time and was tasked with the job of safeguarding the rights of his compatriots as an attorney. Unlike the Armenian students, although a Hindu, he heard Tolstoy and heeded him and experimented with his message of love to find freedom.

The age-old concept of “kill or be killed” for freedom was going to meet a new player—on a mass scale, “the love of man by man.” Its results are historical knowledge now. The rights of Indian immigrants, though less than those of the Whites, were secured in South Africa. Great Britain peacefully ended its centuries old domination of the Indian subcontinent. America became a gentler place because of Dr. King, Gandhi and Tolstoy.

The Middle East is in need of urgent gentleness as well. Some of its Kurds are still inspired by Lenin. Should they replace him by Tolstoy? Is that even possible? The record is not good. In the Soviet Union, the Leninists waited for bankruptcy to knock on their door before their permanent retirement from “public” service. In Kurdistan, the days of reckoning can’t be that far.

What would Tolstoy say if a group of Kurdish students were to visit him today the way the Armenian students did in 1893? If he knew what we know of the Kurdish question, I believe, based on my reading of his books and those of his inimitable student, Gandhi, he would have made the following points:

1-) Freedom is within not without. Meaning it is not territorial. As free Kurds, you may want to free Kurdistan, but you can’t free Kurdistan without being free yourself. If you want to build a brick house, you need baked bricks. With the unbaked ones, you can only build a temporary trap—a failing state.

2-) The road to equality goes through love. When you love someone, you don’t place her or him, below you. You place them across yourself. You treat them equally—the same or even better. In the long history of human development, the gregarious has always overcome the predaceous. You are better off with nonviolent resistance than with war.

3-) In northern Kurdistan, 50 thousand Kurds have died battling their Turkish oppressors. In southern Kurdistan, that number is often multiplied by five. A virus called nationalism has infected the region—from Europe. You can’t cure a sick person with an AK-47. 300,000 dead Kurds, as teachers, for example, could have changed the face of the Middle East. It took one, Socrates, to give directions to the world.

4-) Kurds don’t have an imperial past. They also, relatively speaking, have less blood on their hands. They are more knowledgeable in Turkish, Arabic, and Persian than all their neighbors combined. That is a huge social capital waiting to be tapped. Imagine individual Kurds vowing, I am for healing old wounds; I am not for digging new graves!

5-) Kurds share the upper Middle East with Turks, Arabs and Persians. Unfree Kurds hasn’t translated into free Turks or Arabs or Persians. As Will Durant notes, only “mutual tolerance” can do that. Somebody has to unlock this prison of nations. Perhaps Kurds will. Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing themselves. Start with yourself.

Politics was not the only dish that was served at Tolstoy’s house on that memorable day. Literature was the second.

Tolstoy asked one of his visitors what he was studying at college. When he said, “Western literature,” Tolstoy exclaimed, “Excellent, Western literature is very rich… One only regrets that vita brevis, ars longa [life is short, excellence takes time]. There is so much that is good and interesting and acts beneficently on the soul, one has not time to read it all.”

There were no disagreements there. One of the students brought up Tolstoy’s recent association with the translation of some of Guy de Maupassant’s works in Russia and asked him if he was going to work on the rest of them.

He responded, “Yes… In my opinion, next to Victor Hugo, Maupassant is the best writer of our time. I am very fond of him and rank him above all his contemporaries. I have written a preface for a new edition of his works which will appear shortly.”

The student then asked, “but some people are rather surprised that your name should be in any way connected with the popularization of the works of Maupassant… It was thought that you would hardly have sympathized with a writer who chose such themes…” “One must look at Maupassant from the right point of view,” Tolstoy said. “It is true that at first he went wrong… But he afterwards understood his mistake and was, as it were, reborn.”

Tolstoy then asked the student a question: “Do you remember the story in which he describes a sailor’s encounter with his own sister in a house of ill-fame [A Sailor and His Sister]? How that story sets one thinking! What a deep trace it leaves on one’s soul! Such stories certainly cannot evoke in the reader any love of or interest in profligacy, no matter into what slough the author may lead us.”

The time had come for the students to leave. The Russian writer’s parting words for them were, “…By all means reread Maupassant! You will find much in him that is remarkable and highly instructive.”

A year after the students’ meeting with Tolstoy, Ottoman-Armenia didn’t follow the example of free Greece—as the students had ardently hoped it would. It became a killing field for Turks and their Kurdish collaborators in the Hamidiye Regiments.

According to Benny Morris and Dror Ze’evi, “By early 1894 mass murder was in the air [p 72], and by mid-1896 at least 100,000 Armenians lay dead—shot, stabbed, and axed to death by Turks and Kurds in a succession of horrific massacres.”

In 1915, in another bout of violence [p 636] that would last nine years, the number of dead Armenians would go beyond a million.

Something else would happen in those gruesome years. Turks—alas, some Kurds too, would pick the good-looking women as wives among the condemned Armenians. Perhaps one day a Turkish Maupassant will write a novella of his own, “A Turk and Her Mother” like “A Sailor and His Sister”.

Maybe it will put the Turks and Kurds on a much-needed new path of thinking. Maybe it will leave deep traces in their soul the way their grandfathers left deeper wounds in the psyche of the surviving Armenians. Maybe it will finally lift them up to their feet the way Germans were able to get on theirs with atonement—relative to the surviving Jews.

When that happens, the Turks and Kurds, the coreligionists of Islam, will have an easier time to gather around the table of peace. It is, after all, an injunction of their faith, Quran 49:13, “Human beings, We created you all from a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes so that you may know one another.”

Barring that, the Kurds should hitch their wagon to Tolstoy, Gandhi, and Dr. King. These friends of humanity showed the way to freedom through love in South Africa, India, and America. We would be wise to follow their example in the Middle East. Virgil is right, “Love conquers all.” It is the only conquest that delivers equality and freedom.

Kani Xulam @AKINinfo

This essay first appeared on the website of Counterpunch. Its Turkish translation appeared on the website of Rudaw.

July 1–July 24, 2023

Righting a Century-old Wrong

A century ago, a great wrong was committed against the Kurdish people in the name of “peace”. Five years after World War I, on July 24, 1923, the great powers of Europe effectively did away with Kurdistan—while welcoming Poland into the community of nations—when they recognized its four occupied-zones as permanent without the consent of its inhabitants. Two newly created states, British Iraq and French Syria, along with two old ones, Turkey and Iran, were declared the rulers of the Kurdish homeland. Since that time, the plight of the Kurdish people has only taken a turn for the worse.

The European powers called their handiwork the Treaty of Lausanne and hoped it would bring peace to a “new” Middle East. It never did. Instead, the Kurds have been treated as second class citizens or potential criminals by their new rulers.

Today, 100 years later, 50 million Kurds are without a homeland.

In Turkey, they face legal prosecution. In Iran, they face beatings and hangings. In Iraq, they have been gassed like rats. And in Syria, they have been subjected to varied citizenship laws.

Beginning July 1, I am walking from Washington, DC to New York City through the founding heartland of America to call attention to the plight of Kurds and urge the United Nations to appoint a Special Representative to address this 100-year-old injustice. Along the way, with the help of friends walking with me and those online wishing us well, we will pay homage to America’s own experiment in freedom as we highlight our own quest for civil discourse and mutual tolerance in the Middle East.

Civil discourse and mutual tolerance were the goals of Dr. King and Gandhi as well. In walking to Manhattan, we honor them fondly and seek to emulate their example for a better world that accepts and respects all, including the Kurds.

Join us in by calling, emailing or tweeting at your representatives to ask António Guterres, the Secretary-General of the United Nations, to appoint a Special Representative to address the rights of Kurds in the Middle East.

Unfurl the flag of dignity and liberty across the Middle East!

Contact your elected reps for the appointment of a Special Representative at the United Nations

(If you live outside of the United States, you can still be part of our campaign by urging your reps to do the same.)

Support our walk

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