He was a deep thinker. But his thinking was not merely a contemplation closed in on itself; rather, it was an effort to understand the person in front of him. He did not talk much. Instead, he listened carefully, understood, and quietly recorded what he heard in his memory. He had a way of concentrating that blended his consciousness into his spirit and his spirit into his consciousness. It was as if he were like water flowing from the depths to the surface, and from the surface back into the depths.
With his deep blue eyes, tall stature, and composed posture, he gave the person facing him a sense of trust without them even noticing it. His careful choice of words when speaking, his forming of sentences with thought and concentration, strengthened that trust even more. He was calm. Even in the face of the heaviest internal and external problems, he did not lose his composure. Because he was a revolutionary who acted only after passing both his thoughts and feelings through a filter of self-reflection.
Whenever I saw him, spoke with him, or even sometimes argued with him, I would ask myself the same question:
“Can a person really be this gentle?”
Doesn’t a person usually have a nerve, a sensitive point? It was as if both of those strings had been removed in him. He did not become harsh, he was not hurtful, and he rarely became angry. He did not fall into sectarian attitudes or build walls between people. Of course there were moments when he became upset or felt an inner reaction. But even those moments were brief, and after a while he would return to his calm and balanced state.
He was one of those people who lived the deepest form of comradeship. Even when he believed a comrade was wrong, he would not express it in a harsh tone. He would wait for the right time and ground. Then he would explain the issue with a few sentences, almost with a kind of embarrassed delicacy. He weighed every word and chose every sentence carefully so that no one would be hurt.
Some people misunderstood this attitude. Some called it liberalism, some called it compromise. Others thought it meant “settling for what exists.” But in truth it had nothing to do with that. He had a way of thinking that placed comradeship above everything else.
“If comradeship carries a sacred meaning for us, then we must think accordingly, speak accordingly, and act accordingly,” he would say.
Then he would add:
“Comradeship is the deepest form of existence for us. People can be friends with each other, they can be companions, they can even fight in the same trench. But that does not always mean they are comrades. Comradeship is a way of life that is shared in ideology, in spirit, and in consciousness.”
Then he would smile lightly and say:
“I know this is very difficult. But what matters is already to achieve what is difficult. Our movement exists precisely to achieve that.”
He was a modest revolutionary. Simplicity existed both in his life and in his character. He avoided showiness. He avoided unnecessary words. His life was simple, his style was simple, and his belief in the revolution had the same simplicity and clarity.
He was not one of those who became convinced later. From the very beginning he had joined the caravan of those who believed—a revolutionary of consciousness and conviction. Because of this, I never saw him fall into pessimism. Even in the hardest moments his thinking remained clear and his belief unshaken.
In a sense, he had grown up in Europe. He knew the European system, its lifestyle, and the great contradictions it carried against humanity very well. What led him to struggle against the system was precisely this awareness.
If he had wanted, he could have lived very “comfortably.” He could have earned without working and lived within the comfort offered by the system without lifting a finger. But he rejected that. Because he had seen how cruel, how exploitative, and how blood-sucking capitalist modernity is.
One day during a training session we attended together, he stood up and said:
“The capitalist system is the most detestable system among all hegemonic systems. Previous systems were not polished; when you looked from the outside you could also see their inside. But capitalist civilization is not like that. From the outside it looks bright and attractive; once you enter it, you realize how corrupt and immoral it really is.”
When this awareness combined with the patriotic feeling he had received from his family, his path became certain.
When he first joined the movement, he gave these words:
“I swear on my honor and dignity that I will struggle for Kurdistan and for the Kurdish people until the last drop of my breath.”
And he truly stood by his word. He remained in struggle until the very limit of his life. He taught those who came the relations of comradeship, the philosophy of the movement, and the depth of the Apoist ideology, and he paid no attention to those who left. In the hardest days of the struggle, when many people said, “This is finished,” he always said the same sentence:
“No. This struggle will continue until the Kurdish people are free.”
He was not just any revolutionary. There was a deep unity between his thought, his life, his speech, and his practice. His essence and his word, his action and his discourse were one. In this sense, he was a true revolutionary.
He had the capacity to work in every field. But the field to which he gave the most effort was the free press. For more than twenty years he worked in every area of the press—visual, written, digital. In short, his labor was present on every front of the press.
The last time I saw him, with a heavy calmness he said to me:
“I know I will not recover. I know I will die. A revolutionary normally does not know where or how they will die. Maybe in a clash, maybe at a position, maybe in prison. But because of this illness I know where I will die.”
Then there was a short silence.
“Every revolutionary accepts in advance that they may die when they join the struggle. But my end will be like this.”
I cannot forget the depth in his eyes when he said this. At that moment the heaviest form of emotion was reflected on his face.
Then he added one more sentence:
“I fully embrace both the previous paradigm and the current paradigm, the process, and Leader Apo’s February 27 manifesto exactly as they are. My trust in the Leadership is limitless. Even if I do not see it, we will definitely win.”
A word is honor, and we will not allow honor to be trampled.
With respect, reverence, and gratitude…
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