Sociologist Engin Sustam told ANF that Kurds are sincere in their demand for peace and emphasized that the Turkish public must become more involved in the process. He remarked that war and fascist propaganda have poisoned multiple generations.

Sustam pointed out that in the new phase, the propaganda of power built on Turkish nationalism must be dismantled. He said there must be a political effort, especially one that sides with the poor, against all fascist narratives, and that both Kurds and Turks carry deep traumas.

This is the third part of the lengthy interview. Part one can be read here and part two here. 

Both sides speak of the possibility that the process could be sabotaged. Who might sabotage it, and what can be done to prevent that?

If you pay attention, the ones who most desire violence in this process are the militarist structures that have profited from it, certain actors, and a dominant white and racist segment that continues to speak from above. These groups are deliberately trying to provoke chaos. What they want is the continuation of war, because they are afraid of losing their positions. They feed on violence and hatred like bloodthirsty monsters. In the end, the most dangerous threat to the process is a return to the language of war.

Instead of building military outposts or walls along every border, instead of stockpiling weapons, what is truly essential now is the legalization of a language of peace that can tear down all social walls. As a founding step, this is critical. What is required is the construction of social peace, the complete dismantling of militarism in Kurdistan, and the full civilianization of public space.

Then, for a democratic process to function, the removal of state-appointed trustees and the return of municipalities to the Peoples’ Equality and Democracy Party (DEM Party) are crucial. These steps could also open certain possibilities for democratizing Turkey and freeing it from racism and fascism. This would include the release of the mayor of Istanbul, Osman Kavala, and those imprisoned in the Gezi Park case, contributing to the sincerity of the democratic reconstruction.

It is deeply saddening that nearly two and a half centuries have passed since Rousseau’s concept of the social contract, and yet we must still remind the state in Turkey of its duty to its citizens, especially when we have, right next to us, an extraordinary democratic social contract in Rojava. Rather than imprisoning dissidents, rather than holding people hostage because of their language or identity, the state as an institution must fulfill its regulatory role.

Including the Turkish public in the process appears to be an urgent necessity

Look, when we examine what is happening in Syria today, we witness the consequences of authoritarianism during and after the Assad dictatorship. The current interim government is made up almost entirely of racist and war-criminal groups. These are factions with dictatorial ambitions, not so different from the Assad era.

If we consider the massacres and attacks targeting Alawites and Druze today, or the constant threats directed at Kurds, more accurately, the persistent use of threatening language against all minorities, as well as the continuation of the Arab Belt policy and the blatant disregard for women’s rights, we can clearly see how dangerous it is to insist on a unitary structure, and how such insistence can lead a region to destruction. This has been true in both phases.

What this shows is that practices of democracy do not come from the state; they are shaped by the street and by the people. Therefore, this process must mean full civilianization of the state, the democratization of institutions, and the purification of the state apparatus from racist and sectarian politics.

Taking steps toward democratization by relying solely on the Kurds and placing the burden of peace only on Kurdish shoulders may actually mean deflecting the problem. The real risk lies in the question: What happens if the state refuses to give up its authoritarian grip on power? War again? That would be catastrophic, a path from which there should be no return.

To prevent this, the Kurdish question must move beyond Kurdish hands and find ground within Turkish society. The Kurdish people are already aware of the process and are observing the disarmament phase with caution, grounded in their own organized strength. That is why it is necessary to take the issue of peace, which has become a tool of blackmail in the hands of the state, away from its grip and turn it into a social issue. At the same time, the Turkish public must be brought into this process. Stripping the Kurdish issue of the contexts of “terrorism,” conflict, and hatred, and grounding it in a new political process, appears to be an area of urgent necessity.

Contrary to many mistaken analyses, the Kurdish political movement has opened the door not only for Kurds, but also for other societies around the world. Since the mid-1990s, it has introduced not only classic guerrilla practices, but also discussions grounded in ecology, humanity, feminism, and a closeness to nature. The slogan “Jin, Jîyan, Azadî” (Woman, Life, Freedom), now central to the global feminist movement, owes its roots to the debates within the Kurdish women's movement of the 1990s.

Frankly, breaking away from the hard, centralized, and militaristic practices of Stalinism and Maoism is not something easily achieved. But in this case, it was especially women and the youth who transformed the ideological momentum of the movement from within. Practically speaking, the civilian cooperative models in Rojava, or the municipal governance structures, can serve as examples. The Kurdish Freedom Movement, in this sense, may be the only force that insists on a socialist path more than many leftist experiences in Turkey and Kurdistan, and it has managed to establish stronger ties with internationalist movements.

We are speaking here of a tradition, a structure, that today maintains strong relations with anti-systemic dynamics from Latin America to East Asia, from Africa to Europe, and throughout the Middle East.

Everyone is focusing on whether the Turkish public is ready for the new process. But no one is talking about what the Kurds, who have lived in a war-torn geography for over 50 years, think. What awaits the Kurds, and what needs to be done?

In fact, it’s not just fifty years. If we consider the framework of colonialism dating back to the Ottoman Empire, we are talking about a much longer period. As for the question of what the Kurds want or what they think, I believe the answer is clear. The real issue seems to be with a significant portion of society, though I do not wish to generalize, that still refuses to accept this. A segment that resists acknowledging the Kurds’ right to define their existence on their own terms, and that cannot break free from the whirlpool of Turkishness and Sunni identity.

That is to say, like the Alawites, the Kurds demand that no one make decisions on their behalf, that no one speak in their name, and that no one interfere with their living spaces. Because freedom is something that belongs to their own bodies. Of course, the last fifty years are particularly significant, as they mark a time when the social fabric between Kurds and Turks has been deeply torn. On the one hand, we have the state’s denialist, repressive mechanisms of violence; on the other, the Kurdish Movement’s anti-colonial counter-violence practices have contributed to the creation of a climate of fear and hatred. So this is not a question that can be answered easily.

What kind of struggle needs to be waged, then? On one hand, there is the challenge of persuading a public raised on paranoia, militarism, and racist pathologies. In this, the Turkish left, intellectuals, and democrats have an immense responsibility.

But on the other hand, we are talking about the Kurdish realm, raised under the pressure of racism, hate politics, and even a culture of lynching; shaped by colonial violence, resistance, and collective trauma. And it is precisely they who are the strongest advocates for reconciliation. That’s why, to answer this question, I would say we also need to wait and observe how this process evolves.

There is anxiety among Kurds, and the state still offers no guarantees

We are talking about a spiral of violence spanning more than eight generations. Stopping this cycle, and confronting a century of hate speech, from “bandit Kurds” to “terrorist Kurds,” an unchanging racist discourse, requires a radically different anti-racist and anti-fascist stance. Yet despite everything, I must say this is a historic decision, one that could open the door to democratic and civilian politics.

I say “despite everything” because the ongoing process of militarization remains one of the most active instruments of social trauma and must finally be dismantled. If I may add, we must also recognize the justified hesitation and mistrust among Kurds toward the state, and understand the confusion experienced by Kurds across different political spaces.

Colonialism and the Kurdish question, which have persisted for over a century, are like a live bomb placed before us, a legacy of violence we must face and untangle. We cannot forget the Suruç and Ankara train station massacres of 2015. Today, ultra-Turkish nationalism, retired Kemalist generals, and Turkish racism are fueling a culture of conspiracy, making this issue difficult to discuss and deepening the wounds caused by hate speech.

This is why there is unease and distrust among Kurds following the disarmament decision, because the state has still not offered any real guarantees. It continues to avoid addressing the matter through legal frameworks. And surely, as you will agree, it is clear that the Kurdish side is not the only party to this issue. The other side is the Turkish public, which remains entangled in extreme nationalism and paranoia. This means we must now focus on language, dialogue, and an approach that is willing to compromise on certain positions.

In a society breathing through the emotional world of extreme nationalism, we must ask how to build a democratic space where various political voices and the desire for peace can be expressed openly. This cannot be done without confronting the legacy of 1915 and the Armenian Genocide, without remembering that history (and now they’ll call me a “crypto-Armenian” too), nor without acknowledging the paranoia and hyper-racist reactivity created by the technocratic and Kemalist structure of 1923. The answer lies in practical efforts to organize peace.

As long as we continue to witness attacks on public Kurdish music, the imprisonment of dozens of elected mayors under trustee rule, the punishment of students, Kurdish politicians, and other dissidents; as long as the Republic fails to overcome its phobias; as long as Kurdish is not recognized as a mother tongue and normalized within the peace process; and as long as the state continues profiling its own dissidents, the risks will remain ever-present. Because the Kurdish question represents not just the liberation of a people, but the construction of a radically democratic life in this country.

I prefer not to read this through historical references, but rather through the democratic spaces of common life that must be built today. And this is not about those hateful, bitter, retired fascist generals who continue to resist peace, but it is indeed connected to the military and authoritarian remnants of the civilian tutelage regime inherited from the past. Of course, there are other geopolitical risks that also play a role.

Still, I believe the Kurdish Movement is one of the few political forces that has read the current conjuncture in the Middle East accurately and positioned itself accordingly. This, too, contributes to the decision to disarm and create space for democratic civilian politics. That is why this process, risky, uncertain, and fragile as it may be, is moving forward on the strength of those actors who have fought and are now willing to lay down their arms. It advances with the revolutionary emotional commitment of one side, and with hope.

So, do Turks still approach the issue with a colonial mindset, avoiding real conversations about what Kurds want and why they advocate for peace?

If I may, let me finish this thought and then return to the question “What do the Kurds want?” I think what follows is closely connected to that question. The Turkish public must, more than reciting the daily nationalist pledge, begin to build a politics of living together with the Kurds who insist on a shared geography and a common life. This means embracing peace and dialogue with courage, without paying heed to racist actors.

This also means the entire education system and curriculum must be demilitarized and purged of racism. Any language that references only one ethnic identity or a dominant religion must be removed from children’s textbooks. An alternative, institutional pedagogical approach must be introduced to open the path for a new narrative of Turkey, one in which the peace process can be truly effective.

In other words, if Kurdish-language education is permitted but authoritarian, sexist, and racist education continues, we will not be speaking of social dialogue but of continued state authoritarianism. The Kurdish issue must be addressed through an anti-racist lens. Solving the Kurdish issue means demilitarizing the field, democratizing education through pedagogy, eliminating patriarchy, and rooting the curriculum in an anti-racist foundation.

It is clear that Turkish intellectuals today carry a risky yet vital responsibility to communicate peace to society and help construct it. If these issues are not going to be addressed now, through a courageous anti-racist stance, then when will they ever be? The Turkish left, which has long existed within a reality of coups, violence, and racism, must now abandon its hierarchical tone, its habit of speaking down to others, and begin explaining this process in a powerful and accessible way.

Contributing to the resolution of the Kurdish issue and helping to build social peace will also help spread peace to every part of society. Because this process, this war economy, burns the homes of workers and the poor most of all. In truth, peace is also a class issue. It will contribute to the creation of a common labor economy.

In the mainstream media, no one is really talking about the Kurds

Since the dissolution of the armed struggle, no one seems to be talking about the Kurds. Everyone focuses on the concerns of the Turkish public, but in mainstream media, there’s no curiosity about what the Kurds think as subjects in this matter. No one is asking: Why are Kurds uneasy?

Let me tell you this: the thing Kurds know best is how to be uneasy. Generations of us, including myself, were educated every morning under the shadow of the nationalist pledge, and every evening with the national anthem. For Kurds, this is a source of deep trauma. And like Armenian and Alawite students forced into mosque-centered religious education, other communities have also experienced the authoritarian, racist, and exclusionary curriculum as a generator of collective trauma. This must be questioned.

This is why peoples who are rarely acknowledged in Turkey, those treated as outsiders, are always uneasy. In order for Turkey to become a truly democratic, inclusive, and pluralistic society, these conversations must be conducted more openly and more forcefully. Otherwise, as long as journalism and governance remain addicted to the concept of “terrorism,” this issue will not be solved, it will rot even further.

And instead of asking Kurds directly what they want, some continue to rely on voices shaped by the nationalist paranoia of Turkishness. Certain media platforms, like A Haber, or the secular “White Turkish” elite still present the issue in terms of “terrorism” and “separatism,” but such framing has no meaning in the region.

This process clearly signifies a break not only from racists like Yılmaz Özdil, Tanju Özcan, and Ümit Özdağ, but also from Kurdish-region figures such as Mehmet Metiner and Şamil Tayyar, who have carved out spaces for themselves through clientelist and opportunistic networks. It also signals the decline of many other toxic writers and public figures whose platforms have long depended on war rhetoric and victimhood narratives.

These figures have not only blocked progress, they have, quite frankly, helped create the hyper-paranoid generation we see today. The blatant anti-Kurdish sentiment seen in some recent anti-AKP rallies was far from encouraging. The social rise of such a deeply racist structure is nothing short of an invitation to fascism. As psychiatrist Wilhelm Reich once said in reference to the Nazis: “Racial theory is not the invention of fascism; on the contrary, racism is the psychological foundation that gives birth to fascism.”

That is why reconciliation becomes almost impossible in social layers where there has been no reckoning with racism. There is a kind of masochistic pathology at work in these segments of society, one that is not interested in what Kurds want, but rather in what they themselves desire through their own hatred.

Of course, there are interesting shifts both within the Republican People’s Party (CHP) and the far-right Nationalist Movement Party (MHP), which played a major role in initiating this crisis. But when we reflect on historical memory, the legacy of fascism and the ongoing insistence on Kemalism are hardly reassuring.

First and foremost, Kurds want recognition of their existence

Kurds want freedom, but above all, they want recognition of their existence, perhaps as a precondition. They want to be educated in their mother tongue, to express their language freely and democratically in public spaces, to have a say over matters concerning themselves, and to see the removal of names, slogans, and nationalist speeches imposed on their mountains and plains. They want to stop being forced to say “How happy is the one who says I am a Turk” every morning or evening.

Decolonization means healing a region, its cultural memory, and its language from all forms of colonial domination. It is clear that Kurds are demanding that all of these be placed under constitutional guarantee. The issue must no longer be approached with the politics of delay or dilution, as in the past. It must be taken seriously. Recognition and reckoning are the foundations of partnership, and we are already discussing how these must be secured as constitutional rights.

The region needs to be demilitarized, not through more outposts, border walls, troop build-ups, or intensified militarization, but through a democratic process that opens the path to humane and life-centered politics. The constitution must be democratized. Racism must be criminalized. The demands of Kurds should not be feared, but protected by a framework of inclusive, democratic constitutional law.

To speak frankly, this process requires the emergence of a powerful anti-racist social dynamic in Turkey. That could give real momentum to this issue. Because what we are witnessing in Kurdistan today is not only classical colonialism. It is also intense assimilation (suppression of the Kurdish language, banning of cultural activities), economic exploitation, ecological destruction, poverty, collective trauma, and militarized, patriarchal violence targeting women and children.

Many generations in Turkey have been poisoned by hatred 

Of course, many of these proposals are only macro-level first steps. The real work begins after that. One of the key pillars of social peace is the establishment of justice: justice for the Saturday Mothers, for the children who were killed, like Roboski and Uğur Kaymaz, for Taybet Ana, for the victims of femicide, for those who lost their lives in Suruç, the Ankara train station massacre, and many others.

On the other hand, as you know, many generations in Turkey have been poisoned by hatred, racism, and extreme nationalism. Most of them are now experiencing a form of collective paranoia. Far-right groups such as the Victory Party operate like sworn interpreters of hate, constantly spreading propaganda to keep social hatred alive and to maintain hostility toward Kurds and migrants.

Racism is still not recognized as a crime in Turkey. This shows that social peace must be pursued with courage and that racism must be constitutionally defined as a crime. Only then can effective measures be taken against xenophobic politics.

Racism must now be treated as a criminal offense. Doing so would also allow Turkey to begin healing from its deeply rooted far-right and ultra-nationalist memory.