{"id":3503137,"date":"2024-09-04T09:55:22","date_gmt":"2024-09-04T09:55:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/?p=3503137"},"modified":"2024-09-27T10:18:16","modified_gmt":"2024-09-27T10:18:16","slug":"democracy-rising-33-a-democratic-revolution-in-rojava","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/stories\/2024-09-04\/democracy-rising-33-a-democratic-revolution-in-rojava\/","title":{"rendered":"Democracy Rising 33: A Democratic Revolution in Rojava\u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"

Democracy Rising <\/em><\/strong>is a <\/em>series of blog posts<\/em><\/a> on deliberative democracy: what it is, why it\u2019s powerful, why the time is right for it, how it works, and how to get it going in your community. The series originates in the United States but will discuss principles and draw upon examples from around the world. Views and opinions expressed in each post are those of the individual contributor(s) only.<\/em><\/p>\n

Curator\u2019s Note:<\/strong> \u00a0In the midst of the chaos and destruction of the Syrian civil war, a group of peoples in northeast Syria is attempting something remarkable: a revolution in direct democracy. As the following post attests, it\u2019s not easy. The circumstances would not seem propitious, despite the cliches about seeds thriving on disturbed soil and cracks being how the light gets in. Revolutions don\u2019t happen when all is well and tranquillity reigns, so maybe the only miracle here is that the Rojavans have, so far, managed the astonishing feat of not simply swapping one set of autocrats for another, but instead creating something much rarer and more precious. Given the prospects of the unraveling of the global political and economic order over the coming decades, Rojava may be ahead of its time, or it may be a wild anomaly, a unique confluence of ephemeral factors that can\u2019t possibly persist in a zone of political instability. <\/em><\/p>\n

How the Rojavan democracy was made to happen should be of deep interest to everyone seeking a democracy built and nurtured from the bottom up. From the standpoint of this Democracy Rising series, a key lesson of the Rojava experience is that, while the upheaval of the civil war and the conflict with ISIS created an opportunity, the emergence of a strongly democratic culture in a region of autocracies was ultimately the product of years of patient organizing. When the opportunity arose, the groundwork had already been laid.<\/em><\/p>\n

This first-person account by Arthur Pye is a lightly edited version of \u201cHope and Contradictions: My Year in Rojava,\u201d originally published by <\/em>Strange Matters<\/em><\/a>. Reposted with permission. Some broader context on Rojava can be found <\/em>here<\/em><\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

*\u00a0 *\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026\u201d she began, \u201cwhat do you think of the revolution?\u201d I quickly opted for another sip of \u00e7ay (tea). How could I begin to answer such a question? And coming from Newroz Ahmed of all people\u2014the general commander of the Women\u2019s Defense Units (YPJ). In a matter of hours, if all went as planned, I would be crossing the Tigris River from Syria back into Iraq, making my way home to the United States. After a year in Rojava, what did I have to say for myself?<\/p>\n

Heval[1]<\/u><\/a> Newroz exemplified the kind of confidence typical of so many revolutionaries I met in Rojava. And why shouldn\u2019t she? After all, she is something of a legend: a Kurdish woman who grew up in Syria under the double oppression of the Assad dictatorship and a brutally patriarchal society; who went on to help found a revolutionary women\u2019s army and lead it to victory in the war against ISIS; who now served as that army\u2019s highest commander; both a symbol and spokesperson of Rojava\u2019s democratic revolution. But no, that\u2019s not the kind of confidence I\u2019m talking about. Nor would she ever tolerate such self-aggrandizement. Hers is the simple confidence of someone who knows in her bones that freedom is possible, and has whole-heartedly dedicated her life to its realization.<\/p>\n

Like any real revolution, it was a mess of contradictions. Many starry-eyed western radicals have traveled to Rojava only to become disillusioned by this realization. Some arrive desperate to see the society of their dreams, a place where oppression has been eliminated and all people are flourishing equally in their newfound liberation. What they find is a society neck-deep in problems, where many of the revolution\u2019s aspirations stand in sharp contrast to the harsh realities of life in Syria.<\/p>\n

I encountered this quality most often in women, and it struck me from the moment I arrived. Such people moved through the world with a subtle smirk on their faces, like they knew a secret that couldn\u2019t be explained, only experienced. The movement even has a name for it: \u201crevolutionary personality.\u201d There are, of course, those who fake it. But when the real thing walks into the room, there\u2019s no denying its presence. It was both inspiring and strangely unsettling.<\/p>\n

I drank my tea slowly, desperate for something intelligent to say as a year\u2019s worth of memories flashed through my mind. Was it really time to leave already? I thought back to the moment I first arrived. When my new friends greeted me with a simple \u201cwelcome to Rojava,\u201d I felt an electrifying sense of possibility. My journal entry for the day simply reads: \u201cI have arrived.\u201d I meant it in every sense of the word.<\/p>\n

Over the following months I would travel to villages and refugee camps across the region, to neighborhood communes, worker cooperatives, community centers, and autonomous women\u2019s structures, as well as military positions on the frontlines with the fascist Turkish army and its Islamist proxies. I would spend time with committed revolutionaries (seasoned fighters, community organizers, movement leaders), as well everyday people from all walks of life. By any practical measure it was a year rich in experiences. But Rojava had a way of leaving me with more questions than answers. It was a place where no assumption went unchallenged and the more I learned, the less I seemed to know. Now, as the sun began to set on my last day in Rojava, I knew I had barely scratched the surface.<\/p>\n

Finding Rojava<\/h3>\n

The decision to travel to Syria was hardly a quick one, but the seed was planted from the moment I first heard about the revolution.<\/p>\n

In late 2014, I was riding in a car full of activists on our way to support striking oil refinery workers. By joining their picket line, we hoped to build solidarity between environmentalists and the labor movement. We had a shared enemy in the oil company, which treated its workers like it treated the planet, as an expendable resource to be exploited for profit. Why not unite forces against the whole capitalist system and build something new in its place? It seemed so simple, yet so far from reach. Whether we admitted it or not, our revolutionary ideals often felt far removed from the daily reality of our organizing. A protest here, some civil disobedience there. Another world may have been possible, but how could we actually get there? As we debated strategy on the long drive, someone butted in: \u201cHave you guys heard about what\u2019s happening in Syria right now?! It\u2019s like the fucking Spanish Revolution all over again! The Kurdish people fighting ISIS are building a stateless feminist society based on local assemblies! They\u2019re reading Bookchin,[2]<\/a> but they\u2019re actually doing<\/em> it!\u201d<\/p>\n

I remember feeling skeptical. It all sounded too good to be true. Looking into it further, my computer screen flooded with images of Kurdish revolutionaries, many of them women, courageously riding into battle with their bright floral scarves and AK-47s. It all had a sprinkling of propaganda in it, to be sure. The images had been consciously cultivated by a movement desperate for international support. But there was an underlying truth that shone through, even for a skeptical onlooker. Something transformational was happening. It wasn\u2019t their apparent readiness to face death that struck me the most, but how full of life they seemed. They looked like they knew what they were fighting for<\/em>. They may have been thrust into combat by necessity, but they weren\u2019t fighting to defend what existed before. They were fighting for the chance to build something new.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t take me long to realize that amid the seemingly senseless chaos of the Syrian Civil War, the most important social revolution of the twenty-first century was taking place. As the country descended into sectarian violence, Kurdish revolutionaries had stepped into a power vacuum left by the government\u2019s retreat, building a radical new grassroots democracy in its place. Guided by a revolutionary political program known as democratic confederalism, the movement began organizing local communities not only to defend themselves, but to govern<\/em> themselves.<\/p>\n

By the middle of 2012, a sizable region comprising the Kurdish-majority north had officially declared itself autonomous, establishing a new society explicitly committed to direct democracy, women\u2019s liberation, multiculturalism, socialism, and ecology. In newly liberated cities and villages, the movement started building thousands of direct-democratic neighborhood communes, local councils, and workers\u2019 cooperatives, federating them together from the local to the regional level. In accordance with Rojava\u2019s new social contract, women were asserting a level of institutionalized political power and participation unprecedented even in the West. At every level of governance, women were guaranteed at least 40 percent representation (now 50 percent) and all positions of leadership were held jointly by two co-chairs\u2014one woman and one man. In addition, women everywhere formed their own autonomous organizations to protect and educate each other and to assert their rights. This included, most famously, the YPJ (Women\u2019s Protection Units), an all-woman army which fought alongside the mixed-gender YPG (People\u2019s Protection Units).<\/p>\n

Needless to say, this movement was not without its enemies. ISIS (the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) set its sights on Rojava early on, rightly seeing it as a direct threat to its Islamo-fascist aspirations. When it threatened genocide against Kurds and Yezidis,[3]<\/u><\/a> the YPG\/YPJ led an historical resistance, turning ISIS forces around at Kobane and Sinjar. In cooperation with a U.S.-sponsored international coalition, they went on to lead the ground war that culminated in the Islamic State\u2019s territorial defeat, losing roughly 12,000 fighters in the process.<\/p>\n

In addition to ISIS, Rojava also faced constant aggression from the Turkish state, continuing to this day. Seeing Kurdish autonomy as a threat to its ethno-nationalist project, Turkey launched a series of invasions resulting in the ongoing occupations of Afrin, Serekaniy\u00ea, and Gir\u00ea Sp\u00ee,6<\/sup> as well as a relentless stream of human rights abuses. As I write these words,[4]<\/a> Turkey is threatening yet another such invasion, as it bombs the region\u2019s civilian infrastructure including power plants, food and water facilities, and even hospitals. \u00a0<\/sup>[5]<\/u><\/a><\/p>\n

Origins of the Revolution<\/h3>\n

However libertarian in spirit, the Rojava revolution was hardly a spontaneous affair. Their new revolutionary political system was the culmination of a decades-long struggle waged by the Kurdish freedom movement. Its origins date back to the 1970s, with the founding of the Kurdistan Workers\u2019 Party (PKK) in Turkey. This moment was preceded by a long history of oppression and resistance since European powers first imposed borders in the Middle East after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. The process resulted in the creation of the countries now known as Turkey, Iran, Iraq, and Syria. These new nation-states were all formed around dominant nationalist identities which, by definition, excluded the Kurdish people. With no state of their own, Kurds living in these countries faced violent and systematic marginalization and were often prohibited from speaking their language or even acknowledging their own existence as a people. In this context, the PKK was founded on the assertion that the Kurds were a colonized people in need of national liberation. Originally a Marxist-Leninist movement in the classic sense, they launched an armed insurgency against the Turkish government in the mid-1980s with the goal of creating an independent Kurdish state.<\/p>\n

After the fall of the Soviet Union, the movement began a period of profound ideological transformation, which accelerated dramatically following the capture of the PKK\u2019s founding leader, Abdullah \u00d6calan, in 1999. After a period of intense study and self-critical reflection, \u00d6calan authored a series of books from prison charting a new course for the movement, which became known as democratic confederalism. In a dramatic turn, he presented a sweeping critique of the nation-state as an inherently oppressive monopoly of power which \u201cdomesticates society in the name of capitalism.\u201d[6]<\/a> He advocated instead for a \u201cnon-state democratic nation\u201d in which \u201csociety governs itself\u201d and \u201call societal groups and cultural identities can express themselves.\u201d[7]<\/u><\/a> Influenced by the work of American political philosopher Murray Bookchin, he now urged the people of civil society to organize themselves into grassroots local institutions which could be woven together into a broader regional autonomy. If Kurds wanted to truly liberate their homeland, they would have to democratize Kurdistan from the ground up\u2014village by village, block by block.<\/p>\n

Central to this new paradigm was the idea that patriarchy, as \u201cthe oldest form of slavery,\u201d was the foundation on which all other forms of oppression had been built. Through this lens, capitalism and the nation-state could be understood as \u201cthe dominant male in its most institutionalized form.\u201d \u201cWithout gender equality,\u201d \u00d6calan wrote, \u201cno demand for freedom and equality can be meaningful.\u201d The only solution was \u201ca radical woman\u2019s revolution\u201d that would take place not only in society at large, but as \u201ca revolution within the revolution.\u201d[8]<\/a><\/p>\n

As fate would have it, the Syrian conflict presented the movement\u2019s first opportunity to put these principles into practice on a large scale. The results were dramatic. In a country where Kurds and other non-Arab minorities had been systematically stripped of their rights, Kurdish children now attended school in their mother tongue, and all communities celebrated their cultures openly. In a society where women had been forced into marriage, confined to their homes, and frequently subjected to sexual violence, they could now participate directly in every institution of society, whether attending school, organizing their neighbors, or taking up arms to defend the revolution. In place of the all-powerful and centralized Syrian state, local communities were now free to govern themselves democratically through the federated communes and councils of the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES), or the Self-Administration for short, which now constitutes a third of Syrian territory and is home to nearly 5 million people.[9]<\/a><\/p>\n

It could hardly be denied. A major social transformation was taking place; a revolution no less significant than the \u201cgreat revolutions\u201d of the twentieth century. Rojava was indeed the Spain of our time, and somehow, I knew I had to go.<\/p>\n

With My Own Eyes<\/h3>\n

Sitting there with Heval Newroz, my mind shuffled furiously through the memories: the meetings and marches, the celebrations and funerals, the singing and dancing; the communal meals, the measureless miles of roads and checkpoints, the countless Kalashnikovs, the golden fields of wheat, the oil derricks, the flags, the graffiti, the infinite variations of yellow, red, and green, the piles of gray rubble that used to be buildings, the underground tunnels, the distant (and not-so-distant) sound of artillery and machine-gun fire, the buzz of drones overhead, the heat, the cold, the boredom, the frustration, the joy, the excitement, the omnipresent smell of tea and cigarettes, and the thousands of conversations that accompanied it.<\/p>\n

I thought back to the first council meeting I attended in Shehba Canton. Thirty people had gathered, men and women, young and old, all representing the various committees of the village, from Health and Education to Logistics and Community Defense. My journal entry from that day reads as follows:<\/p>\n

Today, I finally saw it. It works! The community was truly governing itself. The council meeting today, in all its tedious and mundane glory, was the highlight of my time here. People were coming together, taking responsibility for their community, sharing, discussing, criticizing, debating, deciding\u2026. As I listened to their reports and proposals, something many people would probably find boring, I felt goosebumps. If I never see another structure in Rojava, after today I can at least say with confidence that democratic confederalism can work, because I saw it with my own eyes.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

If there was one impression in my cluttered mind that still shone through with clarity, it was this. People can govern themselves. I had seen it up-close, and I could never unsee it.<\/p>\n

In his foreword to the book Revolution in Rojava<\/em><\/a>, the late David Graeber lamented that<\/p>\n

\u201cmany ostensible revolutionaries nowadays seem to have secretly abandoned the idea that a revolution is actually possible.\u201d[10]<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

He tauntingly dubbed this group \u201cthe Loser Left.\u201d<\/p>\n

For many of these leftists the problem is not so much the fear of losing, but rather of winning: of the messiness and responsibility that comes with achieving any degree of power. To protect their own sense of purity, some would rather carve out a comfortable niche for themselves as a permanent fixture of opposition, than to dirty their hands with the possibility of victory.<\/p>\n

For others, though, the world simply feels hopeless. Ours is an age of crisis and cynicism. The problems we face, from ecological collapse to rising fascism, feel almost inescapable. Confronted with this reality, many leftists have limited their efforts to one or another form of \u201cpragmatic\u201d reformism, symbolic \u201cactivism,\u201d or cathartic acts of \u201cresistance.\u201d Rebellion, maybe. But revolution? Not a chance.<\/p>\n

Above all else, Rojava\u2019s greatest significance may be as a counterpoint to this cynicism\u2014as living proof that revolution is indeed still possible in the twenty-first century. Its continued existence serves as a reminder that every crisis represents not only threats, but opportunities. This lesson could hardly be more relevant today, as we find ourselves in a time of unprecedented crisis and instability. As the prevailing world system weakens, cracks are opening up where both the left and the right can push for radical alternatives. Rojava serves as an example of how a well-organized revolutionary movement can insert itself into these cracks at the right moment and open a door to new, emancipatory possibilities. But in order to do that, we have to believe in the possibility of an alternative in the first place.<\/p>\n

The Kurdish freedom movement has a saying: \u201cHope is more precious than victory.\u201d For them, hope is the very ground on which a revolutionary movement is built: something to be kept alive at all costs. If we define hope as the simple belief in another possible future, we have no choice but to see it as indispensable. We can recover from defeat, but not from hopelessness.<\/p>\n

In a time when capitalism threatens to drag humanity off a cliff and fascists the world over are vying for power, hope is not only a choice, it is a responsibility of any principled leftist. Cynicism is a luxury we simply can no longer afford.<\/p>\n

I once asked a foreign YPG volunteer why he had come to Syria to fight.<\/p>\n

\u201cRojava created hope,\u201d he told me. \u201cToday a lot of people are hopeless. Even revolutionaries. They say, \u2018We\u2019ll fight but there\u2019s not actually any hope of making real changes.\u2019 Rojava showed that it\u2019s still possible.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

As I faced the reality of returning home, I felt especially grateful for this lesson. If nothing else, Rojava had left me with a newfound sense of revolutionary possibility that could no longer be shaken.<\/p>\n

But What About the Problems?<\/h3>\n

I struggled to convey all this to Heval Newroz\u2014the hope, the possibility, the gratitude. As we sat together on the floor, sharing tea and conversation, it felt like a small answer to her gigantic question. She smiled generously, but seemingly unsatisfied. \u201cThat\u2019s great,\u201d she said, \u201cbut what about the problems? What are your criticisms?\u201d<\/p>\n

I was reminded of my own cynicism. She wasn\u2019t testing my loyalty, nor did she see our meeting as a formal courtesy before my departure. She saw it as an opportunity for us both to learn something. To do so would require more than praise and gratitude, however genuine. It would require honesty, not only about the revolution\u2019s strengths, but about its many shortcomings.<\/p>\n

Contrary to the picture painted by some of the revolution\u2019s most loyal enthusiasts, the Rojava I came to know was far from a utopia. Like any real revolution, it was a mess of contradictions. Many starry-eyed western radicals have traveled to Rojava only to become disillusioned by this realization. Some arrive desperate to see the society of their dreams: a place where oppression has been eliminated and all people are flourishing equally in their newfound liberation. What they find is a society neck-deep in problems, where many of the revolution\u2019s aspirations stand in sharp contrast to the harsh realities of life in Syria.<\/p>\n

Upon encountering this reality up close, most internationalists quickly lose any romantic notions of utopia that may have accompanied them across the river. For some, their idealized expectations reveal themselves as hopelessness in a hidden form, a fetishization of the unattainable. From there they must make a choice: either reject the revolution for its failure to live up to their own expectations, or open themselves to a more expansive understanding of what a revolution is in the first place: a dynamic process where contradictions between transformation and survival, structure and consciousness, leadership[11]<\/u><\/a> and masses, all live in a state of constant tension and delicate balance.<\/p>\n

If one could wrestle with these contradictions, Rojava presented invaluable opportunities for learning. It was a living laboratory of revolution where new institutions were being built and experimented with, and where critical lessons were being learned in real time as the movement faced the kinds of challenges any real-life revolution must ultimately confront.<\/p>\n

Revolution at the Speed of Consciousness<\/h3>\n

One of the most striking problems I encountered was the uneven development of public consciousness and participation. One often flowed from the other. Forming structures of local self-governance was one thing. But getting people to see themselves as responsible <\/em>for their own community, and for the revolution, proved another thing altogether. In most communities, the speed of structural change had far outpaced changes in public consciousness.<\/p>\n

This presents a unique challenge for any movement attempting to transcend the state. In a statist revolution the question of structure is primary. The will of the people matters only insofar as it affects the power of the state. But if the goal itself is for power and initiative to flow from the bottom upward, then as a rule the revolution can only proceed at the speed of popular consciousness. For a community to truly govern itself, a critical mass of its people need to want<\/em> to govern themselves in the first place, and they need to share some fundamental assumptions about what that means and why it is important. True democracy cannot be given, it can only be practiced. It has meaning and substance only insofar as it flows from the people themselves. Nowhere is this truism better demonstrated than in Rojava.<\/p>\n

\u201cArmed struggle is the easy part,\u201d a community organizer named Baran once told me. \u201cTo pick up a gun and go to the front is simple. What\u2019s difficult is to organize society, to build a new system.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Many movement veterans were eager to point out that the conditions for a successful revolution were largely absent in 2012. The advent of civil war had made revolution possible, necessary even, but the stage was nonetheless set for serious challenges.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe revolution was rushed, and this led to many shortcomings,\u201d Baran confessed. \u201cWe were starting at zero. The people were generally not ready for it.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The liberation of territory had opened up new physical and political space for society to \u201cgovern itself,\u201d as \u00d6calan had envisioned. But success in realizing this possibility would require convincing the region\u2019s diverse communities to adopt the values and ideas of democratic confederalism as their own, no small task. Unsurprisingly, the communes generally took hold the strongest in Kurdish communities where the movement had been organizing for decades. Outside these areas, especially in Arab-majority regions, many communes struggled to foster and maintain participation. Some existed in name but not in substance.<\/p>\n

Religious and ethnic divides, violent and patriarchal tribal structures, conservative social values, and sectarian political allegiances all presented serious obstacles to democratic confederalism. On top of this, the conditions of endless war and economic embargo created a climate of fear, mistrust, and material insecurity contributing to a slow attrition of public engagement. In Baran\u2019s words,<\/p>\n

\u201cThe enemy has colonized the mind of the colonized. Sectarian violence has been normalized. Many people still reject education and they\u2019re afraid to participate.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Revolutionaries often expressed this sentiment. Beyond the revolution\u2019s loyal supporters was a general public too often stuck in internalized patterns of passivity, patriarchy, and prejudice\u2014all manifestations of what the movement refers to as a \u201cstate mentality\u201d (zinyeta dewlet<\/em> in Kurdish) that both accepts and perpetuates domination. Hence the movement\u2019s emphasis on the importance of popular education, best exemplified in the mantra \u201cPerwerde, perwerde, perwerde!\u201d (\u201cEducation, education, education!\u201d), repeated daily by people leading political education workshops throughout society.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to bring them together as human beings. We have to organize them,\u201d Baran insisted. \u201cIt\u2019s very difficult, but we have no choice.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

As I shared my thoughts on these issues with Heval Newroz, I caught myself reassuring her that I knew these were not simple problems with simple solutions; that of course the movement had inherited an almost impossible situation.<\/p>\n

She paused for a moment. \u201cIs that it? Nothing else? No other criticisms?\u201d She was challenging me to dig deeper. In Kurdish revolutionary culture, couching your criticism in a compliment or an excuse is seen as a sign of dishonesty and liberalism. It should instead be treated as a gift, as something essential. \u201cBe direct,\u201d her tone seemed to suggest.<\/p>\n

So I brought up the economy, and how concerned I was that so many people were still struggling to meet their basic needs. Gains had certainly been made in the overall standard of living (relative to other parts of Syria), but the Self-Administration\u2019s limited price controls, subsidies, and labor unions had proven insufficient in addressing material inequality. While the movement was making a concerted effort to build a \u201csocial economy\u201d through the creation of worker cooperatives, after ten years of revolution these new anticapitalist enterprises still represented only a marginal part of the overall economy. Despite redistribution of property previously owned by the regime, much of the economy remained in the control of wealthy local landlords and employers.<\/p>\n

Rojava\u2019s economic strategy seemed less about transforming the existing economy and more about introducing new cooperative forms alongside the old. In this sense the \u201csocial economy\u201d was contending with the capitalist economy more in terms of moral legitimacy than in terms of real power. If new breakthroughs could not be made, I worried that these shortcomings, along with the continued prioritization of the war economy, could contribute to a slow backsliding away from socialism and erode support for the revolution among the general population.<\/p>\n

I also raised concerns about public engagement. In many places people were hardly participating in their communes, and the higher councils of the administration ended up functioning (however reluctantly) as a de facto state, even if out of necessity. In this context, the Asayish (internal security forces) in a particular community could be accountable to the people only at those administrative levels where the councils were actually functioning, making them a de facto police force which reproduced aspects of state power. Democratic confederalism required initiative to flow from the bottom upwards. If the movement failed to foster more public engagement from the base, these problems could eventually pose a serious threat to the integrity of the revolution.<\/p>\n

Ultimately these problems were not separate, but compounding. The lack of participation was only made worse by the economic insecurity most families continued to face. For direct democracy to truly take hold in society, people would need to experience the revolution not only as an opportunity for political engagement, but as a vehicle for materially improving the conditions of their own lives. As long as people struggled to meet their basic needs, only the movement\u2019s most loyal converts could be counted on to actively and consistently participate.<\/p>\n

She smiled in mournful agreement.<\/p>\n

\u201cI share these concerns as well,\u201d she said. \u201cWe have a long way to go to accomplish our goals. But we\u2019re talking about a [state] system that has existed for five thousand years. The revolution has existed for only ten [years]. We have many shortcomings, but until our people can become more conscious and self-organized these problems will not be solved. The most important war we are fighting is the war against ourselves, against our own mentalities, against centuries of oppression. People have to come to see that they are<\/em> the autonomous administration. It\u2019s going to take a long time.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Find Your Own Way<\/h3>\n

Rojava has much to teach us, if we only open ourselves to its complexity. I went there in search of a real-life libertarian socialist revolution. What I found was different from what I read about in books; it was messier and more human than I ever imagined. Like the people who gave it reality, it was flawed, but it was also alive.<\/p>\n

The experience challenged me to question my own assumptions about what a revolution actually entails. How do we define a free society? What are the characteristics of an effective revolutionary movement? What is it that unites people and spurs them into action? What are the challenges every successful revolution must face? What are the inherent limitations in a given set of conditions? How do you respond to a power vacuum without becoming a state? How do you democratize a society where oppressive social values are dominant? How do you make necessary compromises while maintaining your integrity? How do you address internal power dynamics like gender, while maintaining the broader unity of your movement? How do you balance the sometimes competing needs of transformation and survival?<\/p>\n

Most of these questions were left unanswered. But more often than not, asking the right questions was more fruitful than finding the \u201ccorrect\u201d answers. Perhaps therein lies the lesson. After all, the revolution would never have been possible if the Kurdish freedom movement had not been willing to question their previous assumptions in the first place. If movements in the West want to learn from their example, we can start by asking ourselves the same kinds of questions.<\/p>\n

With this series, I hope to make my own small contribution to this task. Over the course of a year, I traveled from one end of Syria to the other, talking with people who work every day to make Rojava\u2019s revolution a reality. By sharing our conversations, along with my own observations, I hope to bring to life both the revolution\u2019s accomplishments and its shortcomings, while searching for the kinds of lessons and unanswered questions that can challenge would-be revolutionaries in the West to improve their own theory and practice.<\/p>\n

As my conversation with Heval Newroz began to wind down, she asked me what I planned to do when I got home.<\/p>\n

\u201cMany want to come to Rojava but cannot, so you have a duty to share your experience,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat is important to us is that when internationalists return to their homes that they continue the struggle in their own way, that they see this as their responsibility.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I told her I wanted to help people in the West better understand the revolution, so that we could take lessons from it to strengthen our own movements.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot everyone is up to such a task,\u201d she said, \u201cbut it is a very important one.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I took it more as a challenge than as encouragement.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake what you learned as an example. But you can\u2019t just copy what we do here and try it in your own country. It won\u2019t work. You have your own society, with your own history and culture. You have to find your own way.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

*\u00a0 *\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

[1]<\/a> Kurdish for \u201ccomrade\u201d or \u201cfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n

[2]<\/a> Murray Bookchin: An American political philosopher, historian, and libertarian socialist most known for his theory of social ecology<\/a>.<\/p>\n

[3]<\/a> A Kurdish-speaking ethnic and religious minority living in Iraq and Syria.<\/p>\n

[4]<\/a> The original Strange Matters<\/em> article was published in March 2024.<\/p>\n

[5]<\/a> See Rojava Information Center report \u201cTurkish Assault on NES Humanitarian Infrastructure\u201d, October 2023:https:\/\/rojavainformationcenter.org\/2023\/10\/turkish-assault-on-nes-humanitarian-infrastructure-october-2023-update-report\/<\/a>.<\/p>\n

[6]<\/a> Abdullah \u00d6calan, Democratic Confederalism<\/em>: https:\/\/www.freeocalan.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/09\/Ocalan-Democratic-Confederalism.pdf<\/a>.<\/p>\n

[7]<\/a> Ibid.<\/p>\n

[8]<\/a> Abdullah \u00d6calan, Liberating Life: Women\u2019s Revolution<\/em>: https:\/\/www.freeocalan.org\/wp-content\/up<\/a>.<\/p>\n

[9]<\/a> Population estimates for Northeast Syria vary wildly, as data from the region are less than reliable due to the war. The higher estimates are almost certainly the more correct ones, the population having increased dramatically from the start of the war due to refugees arriving from other parts of the country or being integrated after the campaigns against ISIS. For one example of a 5 million estimate, see Dan Sabbagh, \u201c\u2018We deserve support\u2019: Reinvented north-east Syria strives for stability,\u201d<\/a> in The Guardian<\/em>, 2 October 2019.<\/p>\n

[10]<\/a> Michael Knapp, Anya Flach, and Ercan Ayboga, Revolution in Rojava: Democratic Autonomy and Women\u2019s Liberation in Syrian Kurdistan <\/em>(London: Pluto Press, 2016); p. xii; https:\/\/dl1.cuni.cz\/pluginfile.php\/1173463\/mod_resource\/content\/1\/Abdullah%2C%20Asya_Ayboga%2C%20Ercan_Biehl%2C%20Janet_Flach%2C%20Anja_Graeber%2C%20David_Knapp%2C%20Michael%20-%20Revolution%20in%20Rojava.pdf<\/a>.<\/p>\n

[11]<\/a> Strange Matters<\/em> hopes to publish further articles on Rojava, including one on the revolution\u2019s leadership.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

How the Rojavan democracy was made to happen should be of deep interest to everyone seeking a democracy built and nurtured from the bottom up.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":128238,"featured_media":3503140,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[251208,251209,79720,213535],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3503137","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-democracy_rising","category-democracy_rising_featured","category-society","category-society-featured"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3503137","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/128238"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3503137"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3503137\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3503140"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3503137"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3503137"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.resilience.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3503137"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}