Every era creates its own language of freedom. In one period, state-building becomes the name of liberation; in another, the focus shifts to transcending the state. Some peoples see separation as the final threshold of resistance; others try to invent new ways of coexisting. However, especially in complex, multi-identity, and historically suppressed geographies like the Middle East, the real question now is not only how peoples will live together, but how they will achieve freedom together.
Living together, being alone, is meaningless. If this life lacks equality, justice, and organization, what will be reproduced is not freedom, but domination. Freedom is not only an individual right; it is a social construct. And this construct is possible not within existing state forms but through new social organizations woven by the will of the people themselves.
In his Manifesto for Peace and a Democratic Society, Leader Apo (Abdullah Öcalan) offers an unconventional answer to this historical question:
Positive integration is a concept that enables peoples to unite without homogenization, build a social system without glorifying the state, and create a common ground of freedom through diversity.
1. Positive integration: Social power against the center
In our first article on this subject, we discussed positive integration as a platform where different peoples can live together without losing their identities. The issue is no longer what the concept is, but what it does: How does positive integration create a tension line with centralized structures, and how can this tension transform into social subjectivity?
Öcalan frames this intervention within the theory of the “democratic nation.” In this view, integration is not about peoples being absorbed into the state, but about creating an organized way of life that connects the state with society. Thus, positive integration is neither retreat nor an invasive imposition. It is constructive. It does not reject conflict, but it is not destructive. It rejects passive harmony and proposes active self-reconstruction for society.
This is not just about existing, but about transforming existence into political power. Positive integration is the capacity for peoples to appear on the scene without denying themselves and while pushing the boundaries of the system. It’s not about “joining the state,” but building a balance that places society at the center.
However, this balance depends not only on the flexibility of the political system but also on the organized power of the people—their social capacity. Positive integration is unsustainable for a society that has lost its self-power. Because an unorganized existence cannot protect its distinctiveness and will eventually be absorbed by the system rather than transforming it. In such a case, the claim of integration easily shifts into negative integration, that is, assimilation and passive participation.
That’s why positive integration is not just an outward-facing political strategy; it is also an inward-facing structure of freedom. Without people’s will to govern their own lives, their ability to build institutions, and their capacity to defend their identity, integration becomes a mere illusion of visibility. Without self-power, there is no freedom; without organized will, there can be no social equality.
2. Worldwide experiences: Being different without separation
Of course, the theoretical framework of positive integration offers a solution on its own. But to show that it is livable, applicable, and sustainable, historical examples are vitally important. Because the power of a concept lies not only in its definition but in how it finds resonance in the world.
Various experiences in different contexts today show that peoples can build societies without becoming states and transform systems without fully integrating into them. Though each example may be flawed, contradictory, or limited, they demonstrate that positive integration is not just theory—it can become political practice.
The Quebec model
Quebec is a notable example in this context. This region in Canada has been able to maintain its existence by constitutionally preserving the French-speaking population’s language, education system, and cultural identity. Integration here did not occur through centralization or homogenization, but through the institutional recognition of difference.
The Canadian state did not see Quebec as a “threat” but accepted it as a difference within itself. As a result, the region became part of the federal system while maintaining its historical and linguistic identity. In this model, being “Canadian” does not exclude remaining French.
Quebec highlights this key aspect of positive integration: enabling pluralism within the state, not despite it. This allows people to remain visible, legitimate, and organized with their own identity—without needing to reject the state.
The Bolivia model
But positive integration can also take the form of a deeper intervention—redefining the very structure of the state. Bolivia is a striking example. Under Evo Morales, Indigenous peoples were not only recognized but became constitutional subjects. The state’s character was redefined as “plurinational.”
Here, positive integration went beyond cultural rights; it aimed to transform power structures. Indigenous groups established their own systems in areas such as language, education, healthcare, land use, and local governance. This institutionalization eroded the monolithic structure of the state, prompting it to renegotiate its relationship with society.
Bolivia shows that positive integration can be not just a demand for rights, but a participatory process in re-establishing the state. Integration here does not mean conforming to the system, but expanding and transforming it.
The Catalonia model
Another remarkable example is Catalonia. While Bolivia pursued internal transformation, Catalonia’s experience unfolded through a more conflicted dynamic. Despite pushing for independence, Catalonia established a structure that practically surpassed Spain’s autonomy limits with its own parliament, language, education system, and economic institutions.
In Catalonia, positive integration was not a mutual agreement but a long-standing legitimacy struggle with the state. Here, integration means neither total acceptance of the central authority nor enforced separation. On the contrary, this example shows that forms of positive integration can exist through conflict and tension.
The Scotland model
However, positive integration doesn’t always stem from conflict. Sometimes it evolves within a stable constitutional framework at an institutional level. Scotland is the clearest example of this. Approaching the “state within a state” model, Scotland functions as an independent political entity within the UK through its own parliament, legal system, healthcare, and education policies.
Although the 2014 independence referendum yielded no change, the process showed that the Scottish people could develop a distinct collective will while remaining part of the central system. This is a powerful example of how positive integration can be built not just at the cultural or administrative level, but at constitutional and institutional levels as well.
3. Is a positive integration model possible in Rojava and Syria?
It’s also worth discussing the Rojava experience in this context. This system, based on popular assemblies, women’s liberation structures, and local self-organization—unlike classical state institutions—is not a state model, but a society-centered life structure. Rather than internalizing the boundaries of the nation-state, it aims to erode them. Rojava stands out as a non-state but political form of positive integration.
But today, the question is no longer just what Rojava has built—but what and how it will integrate into. As Syria’s reconstruction proceeds controversially, how Rojava will be defined within the new constitutional order will be a decisive issue for positive integration.
The Scottish model may serve as a limited source of inspiration: institutional autonomy within the state and a sustainable but contradictory relationship with the central structure. However, Rojava is not the result of a negotiated compromise like Scotland—it is a revolutionary rupture. Therefore, positive integration here is not a “return” but an effort to transform the state by building society outside and beyond it.
In the new Syria, Rojava’s role may not be to move toward the center but to socialize the center. In this context, integration does not mean becoming part of the central system, but being recognized as a historical subject that challenges the boundaries of that system in favor of the people.
Conclusion
In conclusion, positive integration is not merely a political strategy for the Kurdish people—it is a platform for transforming their passive acceptance into historical subjectivity. This platform does not mean dissolving into the state, but reorganizing society with its own structures.
Öcalan’s approach should be read not only as a pursuit of rights within existing borders, but also as an imagination of new political alliances beyond borders. It offers a path for the Kurdish people to participate in regional solution processes—not by being confined to a separate state, but without denying their identity, history, and distinct society.
Today, the issue is not how much Kurds will integrate into the system, but how much they can build their own social system. Therefore, positive integration is not just the language of coexistence—but of co-liberation, co-creation, and co-transformation.
For Kurds, this language must no longer be one of defense, but one of political founding.