Active in many areas of the Kurdish freedom struggle since her youth, Sebahat Tuncel occupies a significant place in Kurdish society and politics.
Having begun her political journey in the youth branch of the People’s Democracy Party (HADEP) in the 1990s, Tuncel has continued her work within the women’s movement, in parliament as an MP, in prisons, and today within the Free Women’s Movement (TJA). She spoke about her own process of self-confrontation and said: “The 1990s were a period of transformation for me. At the same time, they were also a period of questioning. The condition of being alienated from one’s own identity on an ethnic basis naturally led me to question myself.”
When recounting her own life, Tuncel said that she became acquainted with national consciousness through her encounter with the Kurdistan freedom struggle, and that her socialist identity came to be intertwined with her Kurdish identity.
Sebahat Tuncel spoke to ANF about her history of struggle, her experiences, and what she has gained through the process of the Kurdistan freedom struggle.
There can be no freedom without existence
What does Abdullah Öcalan’s statement, “We carried out the patriotism of a people whose very name was not spoken, and the Kurdish reality has been recognized,” mean to you?
This is in fact a very important point; in my view, it is one of the most significant elements of the 27 February call. In assessments regarding the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) dissolving itself, the situation can be expressed in two points. First, the policies of denial, annihilation, and assimilation led to the rebellion of all Kurds. Kurds did not rise up spontaneously; they were driven into such a process because their existence and their very selves were denied.
The second point concerns the assessment of the solution to the Kurdish question. It is stated that, under the influence of the perspective of the right of nations to self-determination and real socialism, the issue was interpreted in the form of establishing a nation-state. As a solution, the declaration referred to as the “Call for Peace and a Democratic Society” is defined as a program. One of the most important elements of that program is the recognition of Kurdish identity. This is a very crucial issue. If the reason for the emergence of war and conflict is the denial of Kurdish existence, then the solution is to put an end to this policy of denial.
The issue you mentioned is addressed in depth in the manifesto. For the Kurdish people, who were stripped of being a people, stripped of being a social and political existence, to recognize themselves once again as a social existence, to be reborn from their own ashes, and to move into a new phase in securing their freedom is extremely important and valuable. Because there can be no freedom without existence.
In my view, this is one of the most fundamental determinations. This is also what has shaped the Turkish state’s policies for a hundred years: the denial of Kurdish existence. If you look closely, the state still does not say “Kurdish existence,” but instead uses the term “of Kurdish origin,” because recognizing Kurdish existence would also mean recognizing their rights and freedoms. Ending this policy of denial is essential for a democratic and peaceful solution, for moving the Kurdish question out of the era of war and conflict. At the same time, it is of profound importance for the Kurdish people themselves.
The Kurdish people constitute a social reality that has proven itself as an existence. The costs have been heavy, but today the entire world recognizes the existence of the Kurdish people politically. Culturally, they have always existed. Declaring a people to be “non-existent” does not make them disappear. Yet in this geography, in Mesopotamia, attempting to erase ancient people with thousands of years of history, denying their language, identity, and culture, is among the gravest crimes against humanity. The process of peace and a democratic society, I believe, also means putting an end to this crime against humanity and making a new beginning.
The 1990s were a period of transformation
How did you first hear the name of the Kurdish Freedom Movement, and how did you begin to take part in the struggle?
I was born into a socialist family. I grew up within a family structure that was Kurdish, Alevi, and socialist; however, there was not a strong sense of Kurdish consciousness. My family’s socialist identity was more prominent. My aunt joined the struggle in the 1990s, at the time when she had just begun university. We were living in the same household then; she was in her final year of high school, while I was in middle school with my older brother. When she returned home during the summer holidays after entering university, she would speak about the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), the Kurdish reality, and Kurdish identity.
She later joined the struggle and was martyred within a very short period of time. Her involvement had a profound impact on me and on the entire family. Culturally, a sense of Kurdishness was lived within the family, but politically neither Alevi identity nor Kurdish identity was fully lived as a concrete reality.
I thought my grandmother was speaking a foreign language
Because my father lived in Germany for many years, we stayed with my grandparents, in my mother’s village of Gürün in Sivas. At that time, only Turkish was spoken. When my father came and we went to our own village, I had difficulty communicating with my grandmother. My mother would say, “Go and ask your grandmother for something,” and I would reply, “She is speaking a foreign language.” Later, however, I came to realize that it was I who had become alienated from my own reality through the struggle. My grandmother was not speaking a foreign language; I was the one who had become estranged.
With the 1990s, this realization brought with it a process of questioning and further reading. Because I already had socialist consciousness, I was reading many books. From primary school onward, I was positioned in a place of questioning the system. During that period, I also began to question Kurdish consciousness: What was happening, and why were the Kurdish people experiencing these problems? In this sense, the process of questioning began for me.
After graduating from university, I began working with the neighborhood commission of the HADEP in Esenler, Istanbul. The transformations I experienced in that period were striking. In my early twenties, I wanted to take part in youth work, but there was also a need for women’s work. During that period, I began reading Abdullah Öcalan’s analyses on women, and my women’s consciousness deepened.
Through engagement and contact, one also comes face to face with the reality of having been alienated from one’s own gender identity. As one engages and comes into contact within the struggle, transformation begins, and questioning is set in motion. This is, in fact, a search. Ultimately, possessing a socialist perspective and consciousness brings with it a constant drive to seek and question a better way of living. At the same time, the difficulties one encounters along this path push one to meet one’s own reality anew.
The 1990s need to be reassessed
As one of the least known generations within the Kurdish movement, what did the 1990s generation experience?
That generation needs to be reassessed. At times, I reflect on how our generation was, in many ways, one that had deeply experienced assimilation. It was a period in which the state’s policies of repression, coercion, and violence prevailed; a period following the fascism of 12 September, when the socialist movement in Turkey had weakened, while the Kurdish movement began to take root in the 1990s. All of these dynamics were intertwined.
On the one hand, there was a political and psychological atmosphere created by the state’s policies of repression and coercion. On the other hand, there were the layers that came with being part of the Alevi community. Maraş had happened; Çorum had happened. There was a perception of danger and threat based on faith, and a perception of danger and threat on the basis of ethnicity. It was such a period. While it was turbulent, weak, and not yet recovered for the socialist movement, for the Kurdish movement it was a time when the struggle expanded most broadly, when participation in the guerrilla ranks surged, and when the struggle reached a high point. This, of course, also had reflections in legal politics.
From the perspective of women’s freedom, the 1990s need to be addressed as a distinct period. The strong participation of women, who had been pushed out of social life, confined to the home, and trapped within feudal relations, in the struggle for freedom; their joining of the guerrilla ranks; their involvement in resistance in prisons; and their leadership of protests in front of prisons were among the defining characteristics of that period.
There were a resistance and struggle against the policies of denial, annihilation, and assimilation imposed on Kurds. This struggle generated a sense of excitement and fervor. In essence, a powerful national demand was on the rise. Alongside this, it is necessary to speak of a process in which women’s consciousness gradually began to emerge. Much of this development unfolded through youth. At that time, the dynamism and participation of young people were very strong.
Within Kurdistan society, the goal of achieving freedom for the Kurdish people created a different excitement and a different social reality. It was a development marked by broad public participation. In this respect, I think it was of great significance. We are speaking of a period in which national consciousness reached its peak for that generation.
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