Jennifer Clapham reports on how the Kurdish Democratic Union Party draws its strength from the people.

The building, big and cream-coloured, is set back inside a courtyard. The atmosphere inside is much more laid back than the grand front steps. It’s obvious that the inhabitants have inherited this building, and they make it their own, sharing floors of offices between several organisations. There are images of revolutionary fighters over once-ostentatious fountains that now sit dry. An easy-going friendliness greets us.

Here in Qamishlo there are a lot of such buildings. It’s one of the biggest cities in North and East Syria, the region commonly known as Rojava and home to the Rojava revolution. The Syrian regime were forced out in 2011, and the local people stepped in and self organised. They used everything available to them, including the buildings of the old regime.

We’re here for an interview with Asya Abdullah, the co-chair of the Democratic Union Party, the biggest political party in the region and a big driving force behind the social organising that is the heart of the movement. She and two other women she works with welcome us and bring water and tea. Ms Abdullah fixes me with a gimlet but twinkling gaze. The whole time we talk, she is warm and shows a lot of humour, chuckling and smiling, but at the same time her strength and clarity are imposing.

We want to know everything. The Rojava revolution has become a magnet and an example for leftists around the world. Coming from Scotland, some things (like the temperature) feel like another planet, but some questions actually feel surprisingly close to home. How do you organise over four million people, from diverse ethnic and cultural backgrounds, with complex histories, to build up a liberated system of self-governance? What does political autonomy mean in the world we live in? How does a minority region carve out independence from a central government?

Ms Abdullah starts by explaining how the Democratic Union Party (PYD) was founded in 2003.

“At that time, Kurdish political organisations were banned. We were working clandestinely. Many people were imprisoned, killed, or disappeared. A lot of them were women… But we saw the need for a party that could play a role for an organised society. This is always the basic force… The party’s role is to develop an ethical and political society. A revolution has to be something of the people, not something imposed from outside. The autonomous strength of the people makes it.”

Perhaps partly because of the clandestine nature of the early days, the PYD has proved itself deeply rooted in this reality of grassroots social organising. When the wave of uprisings known as the ‘Arab Spring’ hit Syria and the government was destabilised, the network they were a part of organised in the north and east of Syria, ensuring that the chaos that erupted elsewhere would not take over. Instead, they were determined to put into practice a political programme many of them had been active in for years: Democratic Confederalism. Proposed by the imprisoned leader of the PKK, Adbullah Öcalan, Democratic Confederalism is a revolutionary alternative to capitalism and the nation state. Taking as its core principles direct democracy, women’s liberation, and ecology, it is a holistic paradigm that has been taken up in many different places,

and is how many local and transnational Kurdish organisations are run. But the region where it has been fully put into practice on the ground is North and East Syria.

The PYD is now one of many different political parties, all with the right to organise and to participate, but the core of democratic confederalism is not party political representation at all. Instead, the region is administrated through a system of neighbourhood communes, local councils and regional assemblies, where everyone has a voice, and the principle is governance ‘from the bottom up, not the top down’.

Back in 2011–12, there was no guarantee that setting up this system would be a success. The Syrian regime had lost control, yes, but there were threats on all sides, and no precedent for this kind of step.

“In 2012 we made the topic of our 5th congress ‘Preparation for revolution’. In the same congress we officially declared the co-chair system.” The co-chair system ensures that every position of responsibility is shared between a man and a woman, and is a core principle across all organisations working in the Democratic Confederalism paradigm.

“Suddenly, we could make our work openly. We went from village to village, discussing with everyone. We said we could make the commune system a reality, that we could defend our villages. People were a bit shocked! They asked how. We held a lot of discussions, and people started to organise themselves. They made communes, and started to take up self defence. At that time, we didn’t have a lot of weapons. People would patrol their villages with a stick! … Some people were saying that we had to ‘go and take power’. Others said we needed to ally with the opposition militia so they would protect us. Still others said, if a state or power from outside doesn’t come and help us, we will be defeated, we need help. But we stuck to our line. We don’t aim to go and take power, we need to organise ourselves. And when war came, no one helped us. If you analyse the world it’s clear – if you can’t defend yourself, you won’t be defended.

“We had a lot of discussions about the situation and our strategy. The goal is a decentralised, democratic system. Yes, we were struggling for the Kurdish people’s political issues, for autonomy. But not to just become another state. And our system can also be a solution across Syria and the whole of the Middle East… We need to become a political presence in Syria itself. But to achieve all that, we need to organise the people. A social agreement and common principles have to be agreed. There needs to be local organising and shared platforms. There needs to be autonomous organisations for women… This is all so society can express itself, solve problems, protect itself. All areas of society need to organise with their own identity.”

I’ve been able to see a lot of North and East Syria while I’ve been here. Now, when you visit neighbourhood councils, workers’ co-ops, unions and civil society groups, women’s councils, or youth projects, it all seems obvious. Complex, far from perfect, and often messy, but something established and solid, and drawing its strength from ordinary, working class people. I try to imagine what it took to have faith in that vision when none of it was here yet, when everyone had lived for years under an authoritarian government and the brutality of neoliberal economics, with society divided and turned on itself. To work as an organiser in that time meant to believe something different could be built, that the system could change, and that people can change with it.

Arin Mirkan square in liberated Kobane, pivotal in the fight against ISIS. Photo by the author.

Ms Abdullah smiles again as if she knows what I’m thinking.

“Our philosophy,” she says, sounding every bit as down to earth as when offering us tea, “is that we make the revolution on our own autonomous strength, and through the revolution we also transform. There is an external and an internal revolution. We are fighting capitalism, monopoly and oppression. All of these have a mentality. We also need to fight the dominant male mentality. Gender equality is a crucial element for democracy.”

The Kurdish movement’s approach to gender equality is firmly embedded in an analysis for structural change. You cannot isolate ‘women’s issues’ or ‘gender liberation’ from the wider struggle. It’s also essential to always understand gender liberation as a collective question, to understand women as a class. As Ms Abdullah puts it,

“In the dominant system you might have individual women at the high levels, but what do they represent? Who has their back? … It should be a litmus test of democracy that we ask of any decision, what impact does it have on women’s situation in society as a whole?”

And what do we mean by democracy? Does she mean the kind of representative systems we have in the West? That gets one of her deep laughs, her eyes alone able to convey how absurd that would be.

“You can’t understand real democracy just as a word. It has to be a culture. It means accepting each other, different colours coming together in diversity, within our movements and between movements. Bringing real justice. Democracy must mean the opposite of capitalism, mercantilism and individualism. The content and meaning is what makes something democratic, not the framework.”

If you’re inspired by the Rojava example, it’s easy to approach it in a mechanistic way. How big are communes? How often do they meet? But we can’t copy and paste a system. The point is the values, core principles and perspective that the system is built on.

Back in 2014 before the referendum, many of us connected with the slogan “Another Scotland is possible”. We argued for independence, but it had to mean more than just getting out own mini Westminster, or a saltire draped over the same old lethal economic system. What strikes you in North and East Syria, or when hearing Ms Abdullah speak, is the conviction that their system can really be an alternative, and not just locally. The level of grassroots organising is stunning, as is the sincerity and seriousness with which organisers commit to be of the people. Autonomy, independence, or any kind of social change, is meaningless unless it’s embedded in an organised, politicised society. I wonder what it would look like if, as questions of independence come onto the agenda again in Scotland, the left was able to ask these more radical questions. If, whether or not we are a part of Britain, we felt a responsibility to spread a transformative, truly democratic system from the local to the global.

“We knew it was big task. A long haul, very hard. But it was necessary, and historic. So we took up the responsibility,” Ms Abdullah says. You get the impression they simply saw no other option.

The future is very unclear for the project in North and East Syria. The Turkish state, bordering the region, is still engaged in regular, heavy attacks with shelling, drones, and proxy gangs. Civilian infrastructure has been intensely targeted. The embargo on Syria chokes the economy and hinders the development of co-operatives and alternative economic projects. Despite all this, the autonomous administration and all the groups and parties in the region are looking to the future. Local elections were held in May 2024, with quotas for the representation and participation of minorities and women supplementing the votes. Discussions are continuing about reworking the Social Contract, a people’s constitution that was made in 2014 after lengthy consultation across the whole society. Any changes will be made the same slow, genuine way.

It’s tempting to look at all this work in the most difficult circumstances and compare disparagingly to movements for change in Europe, where we supposedly have it easier. But while we might not be in the middle of active war, the destruction of communities, economic crises, and a loss of hope, ideology and direction are their own obstacles. Nonetheless, Rojava shows us what’s possible. And it’s not about making a hierarchy of struggle and then directing our pity and charity to those who have it roughest. It’s about finding common ground, learning from each other, and building true international solidarity. When you sit with Asya Abdullah you don’t for a moment feel like she’s asking you for help – and you’re ready to take her advice, follow her lead, and start to help yourself.

For more information on the movement in North and East Syria, the Kurdish Women’s Movement, and the system of Democratic Confederalism, find this article on our website.

Jennifer Clapham lives in Glasgow, and recently spent two years in Rojava, working with the Kurdish Freedom Movement.