A
recent article published by one of the Kurdish nationalist movement’s
media outlets has provided an opportunity to revisit certain aspects of
the movement’s class character and ideological foundations.
In reality, this stance is not new. Throughout Abdullah Öcalan’s years in prison, he has repeatedly produced statements and writings that target socialist experiences and the founders of scientific socialism. These have for some time been highlighted in the movement’s own media.
What makes the current moment significant is that Öcalan is one of the central actors in an ongoing political process in Turkey. The “peace process”—carried out with the open support of the leader of the fascist party and through direct contact between Öcalan, a parliamentary commission, and state officials—has transformed the political environment. At the same time, a former co-chair and current MP of the Kurdish nationalist movement’s party, the DEM Party, declared that the party now effectively serves as the country’s main opposition. All of this signals that the emerging bourgeois political landscape provides fertile ground for the resonance between the Kurdish nationalist movement’s attacks on socialism and the bourgeois politics’ more traditional forms of anti-communism.
Yet the PKK was never, in reality, a genuinely Marxist-Leninist organization. Founded in the late 1970s, a period in which the left dominated Turkey’s political and social arena, the PKK employed Marxist-Leninist terminology and drew from these values, but it was always, at its core, a national movement.
Claims that Öcalan has “surpassed Marxism”—when considered together with his recent statement that he has been “waiting 50 years to be understood”—suggest a line of ideological continuity rather than a merely conjunctural shift.
The Kurdish nationalist movement, now firmly situated somewhere between social democracy and nationalism within Turkey’s political landscape, has strengthened ties with various factions of the bourgeoisie, including some of Turkey’s most prominent capitalist families. Meanwhile, its distance from the republic’s founding principles and from secularism has frequently aligned it with the AKP government not only on current political issues but also on long-term regional strategy. The most recent peace process aimed to formalize this alignment into a strategic partnership tied to a broader regional imperialist project.
Outside Turkey, however—especially in Europe—the movement’s image is refracted and softened within left-wing public opinion. One reason is certainly the complexity of Turkish politics, which is difficult to understand from the outside. But this is not the only factor.
International exposure to Turkey has grown, and it is easier than ever to follow developments due to the country’s increasing visibility in global media. It is therefore hard to claim that these kinds of statements or texts are inaccessible to international audiences. Indeed, the movement’s arguments, as well as interviews with its representatives, frequently appear in European publications.
And some realities speak for themselves. The passages quoted below illustrate this clearly. Before turning to them, however, it must be noted that this “misperception” is also reinforced by the European reading of Turkish politics exclusively through the lens of an “authoritarian Turkish government.” While not wholly inaccurate, this perspective often ignores or obscures class dynamics within Turkey and the AKP government’s alignment with Turkish capital. As a result, many international observers view the Kurdish nationalist movement’s struggle primarily through a liberal “freedom vs. authoritarianism” framework.
Additionally, a long-standing romanticism within parts of the European left regarding the right of oppressed nations to self-determination—regardless of contemporary material conditions—has also contributed to this distortion, something the movement itself has instrumentalized.
Yet during this same period, within the movement’s own press, articles are found accusing communist movements of “defending the system,” equating actually existing socialism with fascism, and claiming that Marxist, Leninist, and Maoist revolutions ultimately became instruments of systemic power:
“The Marxist, Leninist, and Maoist revolutions—built through immense sacrifice and effort—ultimately became entangled with the system and even evolved into its strongest defenders. Lenin’s Soviets, under Stalin, transformed into a form of Soviet fascism, while Mao’s communism was pushed into becoming a major capitalist force. A socialism detached from society cannot become anything more than an extension of the existing system.
For this reason, new and innovative ideas must be developed within socialism, Marxism, Leninism, and Maoism. Socialism needs to be re-evaluated and re-socialized. A viable socialism must be freed from mistaken interpretations and outdated mentalities so that its social essence can emerge. A socialism that does not belong solely to a single class must be approached broadly and rooted within society as a whole.”
The text goes on to declare that socialism does not belong to any particular class, and that Öcalan has brought new life to socialism:
“Within this framework, Leader Apo (Abdullah Öcalan) sought to identify the shortcomings of socialism and to change and transform it into a socially grounded model. By addressing the weaknesses of real socialism and scientific socialism, he introduced a new perspective and, through the development of democratic socialism, aimed to reveal socialism’s core essence.”
And finally, the author “buries” scientific socialism in Rojava—ironically one of the closest U.S. and Israeli allies in the region and a convenient asset in their Middle East strategy—and elevates it as the “first step of democratic socialism”:
“Rojava is the place where this new perspective on socialism has been introduced and developed. Indeed, Rojava represents the final stop of socialism and the first step of democratic socialism.”
As noted earlier, these are not new arguments. Öcalan’s own writings over the years contain many such analyses. His letter to the PKK’s 12th Congress—held last May, where the organization decided to dissolve itself—provides an especially distilled summary of this worldview and, in effect, rewrites the history of class struggle:
“Historical materialism should replace class struggle with ‘the commune.’ It is more accurate to revise Marxism through this concept. History is not a history of class struggle but of conflict between the state and the commune.”
He continues:
“The fundamental contradiction begins with the conflict between the masculine and feminine elements in society. It does not originate from class. Marx’s class-based conflict theory is the main reason real socialism collapsed.”
He even criticizes Marx for “not being Marxist”:
“Marx, to live with his wife, sells his coat. He says, ‘Let me write this book so it earns money and saves my marriage.’ Is this what Marxism is supposed to be?”
These quotes demonstrate that Öcalan’s approach is neither new nor incidental: it has deep roots in the ideological history of the movement.
Why, then, is it important to accurately understand the PKK’s non-Marxist character now? As stated at the outset, Öcalan’s analysis now fuels a new wave of anti-communist discourse in Turkey. His claim that the PKK was founded on the basis of “real socialism,” but became dysfunctional once real socialism collapsed and could not find a replacement, mirrors the government’s own narrative that absolves the state and blames “the left” for past conflicts. In response, the TKP Central Committee emphasized that the PKK was never a Marxist organization and stated that, at a moment when the PKK is contemplating its own dissolution, the government’s effort to shift historical responsibility onto revolutionaries and socialism will not be allowed to stand uncontested. The statement underscored that a nationalism interwoven with liberalism—and political alliances with the United States or Israel—cannot in any form be reconciled with Marxism.
Assuming this approach—rooted in anarchism and other petty-bourgeois ideologies, such as liberalism—within the left spectrum represents, from a leftist standpoint, a form of self-negation. Let us recall that in the same letter, Öcalan references Kropotkin and states, “Lenin should have listened to him,” even though Lenin, in the Marxist-Leninist tradition we inherit, criticized Kropotkin and the anarchist currents of his time for petty-bourgeois romanticism and utopianism. In this light, it is no coincidence that the author of the initially cited article remarks that Rojava reminds him of Thomas More’s works.
There are, of course, certain limits to treating these theses with full theoretical seriousness. This is largely because they do not form a coherent whole, but rather consist of arguments drawn from various theoretical backgrounds and combined in an eclectic manner. Nevertheless, this movement has a significant social base and is still regarded in many parts of the world as a progressive or socialist force. For this reason, we need to address this somewhat misleading image with greater care and clarity.
If we accept that Marxism cannot be stretched to the point of severing it from its class foundations, it becomes evident that this nationalist movement—whose ideological roots lie in pre-Marxist and non-Marxist traditions—must be approached without romantic lenses. In terms of realpolitik, tolerance for alliances with the United States and Israel or participation in expansionist neo-Ottoman projects, and, on the ideological plane, tolerance for petty-bourgeois currents and the new wave of anti-communism, are matters for those who have already abandoned the target of socialism—not for those committed to it.
Yet the PKK was never, in reality, a genuinely Marxist-Leninist organization. Founded in the late 1970s, a period in which the left dominated Turkey’s political and social arena, the PKK employed Marxist-Leninist terminology and drew from these values, but it was always, at its core, a national movement.
Claims that Öcalan has “surpassed Marxism”—when considered together with his recent statement that he has been “waiting 50 years to be understood”—suggest a line of ideological continuity rather than a merely conjunctural shift.
The Kurdish nationalist movement, now firmly situated somewhere between social democracy and nationalism within Turkey’s political landscape, has strengthened ties with various factions of the bourgeoisie, including some of Turkey’s most prominent capitalist families. Meanwhile, its distance from the republic’s founding principles and from secularism has frequently aligned it with the AKP government not only on current political issues but also on long-term regional strategy. The most recent peace process aimed to formalize this alignment into a strategic partnership tied to a broader regional imperialist project.
Outside Turkey, however—especially in Europe—the movement’s image is refracted and softened within left-wing public opinion. One reason is certainly the complexity of Turkish politics, which is difficult to understand from the outside. But this is not the only factor.
International exposure to Turkey has grown, and it is easier than ever to follow developments due to the country’s increasing visibility in global media. It is therefore hard to claim that these kinds of statements or texts are inaccessible to international audiences. Indeed, the movement’s arguments, as well as interviews with its representatives, frequently appear in European publications.
And some realities speak for themselves. The passages quoted below illustrate this clearly. Before turning to them, however, it must be noted that this “misperception” is also reinforced by the European reading of Turkish politics exclusively through the lens of an “authoritarian Turkish government.” While not wholly inaccurate, this perspective often ignores or obscures class dynamics within Turkey and the AKP government’s alignment with Turkish capital. As a result, many international observers view the Kurdish nationalist movement’s struggle primarily through a liberal “freedom vs. authoritarianism” framework.
Additionally, a long-standing romanticism within parts of the European left regarding the right of oppressed nations to self-determination—regardless of contemporary material conditions—has also contributed to this distortion, something the movement itself has instrumentalized.
Yet during this same period, within the movement’s own press, articles are found accusing communist movements of “defending the system,” equating actually existing socialism with fascism, and claiming that Marxist, Leninist, and Maoist revolutions ultimately became instruments of systemic power:
“The Marxist, Leninist, and Maoist revolutions—built through immense sacrifice and effort—ultimately became entangled with the system and even evolved into its strongest defenders. Lenin’s Soviets, under Stalin, transformed into a form of Soviet fascism, while Mao’s communism was pushed into becoming a major capitalist force. A socialism detached from society cannot become anything more than an extension of the existing system.
For this reason, new and innovative ideas must be developed within socialism, Marxism, Leninism, and Maoism. Socialism needs to be re-evaluated and re-socialized. A viable socialism must be freed from mistaken interpretations and outdated mentalities so that its social essence can emerge. A socialism that does not belong solely to a single class must be approached broadly and rooted within society as a whole.”
The text goes on to declare that socialism does not belong to any particular class, and that Öcalan has brought new life to socialism:
“Within this framework, Leader Apo (Abdullah Öcalan) sought to identify the shortcomings of socialism and to change and transform it into a socially grounded model. By addressing the weaknesses of real socialism and scientific socialism, he introduced a new perspective and, through the development of democratic socialism, aimed to reveal socialism’s core essence.”
And finally, the author “buries” scientific socialism in Rojava—ironically one of the closest U.S. and Israeli allies in the region and a convenient asset in their Middle East strategy—and elevates it as the “first step of democratic socialism”:
“Rojava is the place where this new perspective on socialism has been introduced and developed. Indeed, Rojava represents the final stop of socialism and the first step of democratic socialism.”
As noted earlier, these are not new arguments. Öcalan’s own writings over the years contain many such analyses. His letter to the PKK’s 12th Congress—held last May, where the organization decided to dissolve itself—provides an especially distilled summary of this worldview and, in effect, rewrites the history of class struggle:
“Historical materialism should replace class struggle with ‘the commune.’ It is more accurate to revise Marxism through this concept. History is not a history of class struggle but of conflict between the state and the commune.”
He continues:
“The fundamental contradiction begins with the conflict between the masculine and feminine elements in society. It does not originate from class. Marx’s class-based conflict theory is the main reason real socialism collapsed.”
He even criticizes Marx for “not being Marxist”:
“Marx, to live with his wife, sells his coat. He says, ‘Let me write this book so it earns money and saves my marriage.’ Is this what Marxism is supposed to be?”
These quotes demonstrate that Öcalan’s approach is neither new nor incidental: it has deep roots in the ideological history of the movement.
Why, then, is it important to accurately understand the PKK’s non-Marxist character now? As stated at the outset, Öcalan’s analysis now fuels a new wave of anti-communist discourse in Turkey. His claim that the PKK was founded on the basis of “real socialism,” but became dysfunctional once real socialism collapsed and could not find a replacement, mirrors the government’s own narrative that absolves the state and blames “the left” for past conflicts. In response, the TKP Central Committee emphasized that the PKK was never a Marxist organization and stated that, at a moment when the PKK is contemplating its own dissolution, the government’s effort to shift historical responsibility onto revolutionaries and socialism will not be allowed to stand uncontested. The statement underscored that a nationalism interwoven with liberalism—and political alliances with the United States or Israel—cannot in any form be reconciled with Marxism.
Assuming this approach—rooted in anarchism and other petty-bourgeois ideologies, such as liberalism—within the left spectrum represents, from a leftist standpoint, a form of self-negation. Let us recall that in the same letter, Öcalan references Kropotkin and states, “Lenin should have listened to him,” even though Lenin, in the Marxist-Leninist tradition we inherit, criticized Kropotkin and the anarchist currents of his time for petty-bourgeois romanticism and utopianism. In this light, it is no coincidence that the author of the initially cited article remarks that Rojava reminds him of Thomas More’s works.
There are, of course, certain limits to treating these theses with full theoretical seriousness. This is largely because they do not form a coherent whole, but rather consist of arguments drawn from various theoretical backgrounds and combined in an eclectic manner. Nevertheless, this movement has a significant social base and is still regarded in many parts of the world as a progressive or socialist force. For this reason, we need to address this somewhat misleading image with greater care and clarity.
If we accept that Marxism cannot be stretched to the point of severing it from its class foundations, it becomes evident that this nationalist movement—whose ideological roots lie in pre-Marxist and non-Marxist traditions—must be approached without romantic lenses. In terms of realpolitik, tolerance for alliances with the United States and Israel or participation in expansionist neo-Ottoman projects, and, on the ideological plane, tolerance for petty-bourgeois currents and the new wave of anti-communism, are matters for those who have already abandoned the target of socialism—not for those committed to it.
* Cansu Oba is a member of the TKP Central Committee
